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An angst stricken I wish you back is already at the tippy tip tip of Jisung’s tongue when his throat decides to close up on him. Thorns curl around it, piercing, winding tight. He chokes. What comes out instead is something cracked and scratchy. The thorns tighten. It’s unpleasant. He takes a step back from the microphone stand, looks to the side, and coughs. Behind him, laughter.
“You guys are assholes,” Jisung grumbles, avoiding eye contact with all of them. He flops himself down onto the floor and sits cross-legged, slouching. Minho’s the first one to stop laughing, his face emerging from behind the drums to shoot Jisung a wicked grin. Yongbok on the bass next, then finally Jeongin, keyboards, who was already on the floor before. He wheezes softly, chest rumbling with remnants of laughter. Jisung glares and demands, “Can you give me a goddamn break.”
“No,” Jeongin easily answers. “Are you still hung up—”
Jisung lets out a sound of distress from the back of his throat and another bout of laughter comes around and he’s this close to reach out for the stand and throw it across the room. Watch it break into two against the wall. But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he settles with burying his face in his palms. And suddenly it’s wet.
Jisung was nineteen when he met Seungmin. Metalmouth smile, windswept hair, and a heart too big. They share most classes together—Music, English, Physics—and it’s natural the way they gravitated towards each other in their small little neighbourhood right at the outskirts of Seoul, bonding over school and their favourite bands and singers. Maybe that was enough reason why Seungmin and Jisung were never meant to be from the very start. He was just comfortable with Seungmin; he wasn’t in love. He was just comfortable. Yeah. Yeah.
“Who are you kidding,” Jeongin says through a mouthful of burger. The lamp hovering over their heads flickers. There’s mustard at the edge of his mouth and Yongbok, like clockwork, licks their thumb and wipes it off. Minho makes a face. Jeongin continues, “Sorry for making you cry, hyung. But really if you’re still hung up on him—then, maybe, you know? Talk to him?”
Another flicker. Jisung looks up and wonders if it’s broken.
“For closure,” Yongbok adds and Jisung looks at them. The three of them nod.
“I’m not hung—” The way the three of them stare at him, added with the flickering lamp light in a diner booth is a little unsettling. Jisung pouts. “I’m not hung up on him.”
“Yeah, you’re not,” Minho agrees, nodding before rolling his eyes. Despite what’s coming out from his own damned mouth, Jisung knows he’s still painfully hung up on the boy who left him nothing but his crushed up heart in his palms a week before their first day of university.
Flicker, flicker.
Jisung’s staring at his palms instead and it’s not until Minho licks his fingers clean does he realise he has not touched his cheeseburger yet. He picks it up, takes a bite, and chokes on a sob.
The light goes out.
A lot of things are easier said than none.
Jisung types out Kim Seungmin in the search bar of his KakaoTalk after three bottles of grape flavoured soju. His profile picture still hasn’t changed: a picture of him looking at the camera, head tilted to the side. He’s wearing his favourite Nike windbreaker. Jisung wonders if it’s still his favourite.
It’s three in the morning and in his haste, accidentally pressed call on his profile instead of chat and it fucking goes through. He stares and stares and a small hopeful little part in him wishes Seungmin would answer. On the third ring he realises his mistake and shakily ends the call with a click. He chucks it to the end of his bed and pulls the covers over his head.
(The next morning Jisung wakes up to five KaTalk messages. He reaches for his glasses on his bedside table and slides it on his face. One from Yongbok (studio at 8 tonight, ok?) and three from Kim Seungmin (Jisung? / Sorry i missed your call / What’s up?)
Fuck.
It’s too early, so Jisung doesn’t reply to any of his messages and heads towards the bathroom.)
The thing is…Jisung wouldn’t say Seungmin and him dated per se but what they had (had had had) definitely wasn’t of the friendly sort either. They cuddled, they kissed, they held hands, and Jisung even almost had his hands down Seungmin’s pants once. Seungmin let out the prettiest sigh. But it was an almost because Seungmin heard the sound of the front door unlocking and shoved Jisung off him.
Seungmin laughed and so did he.
They didn’t date per se, says Jisung, but it still hurt when Seungmin held his hand and said sorry, I can’t do this and Jisung’s face was pinched. Hurt. He wanted to, desperately wanted to say: can’t do what? What are we doing, Seungmin-ah? Seungmin didn’t kiss him this time around but what’s Seungmin without breaking his fragile little heart even more? He leaned down and kissed the corner of Jisung’s mouth and left him breathless.
Any sane person would’ve just told the person they’ve been in love for almost half a year now that they love them. Maybe if Jisung had just fucking pulled Seungmin’s arm back and made him look at him, like really look at him, maybe Jisung would be kissing Seungmin underneath him right now and not fucking Kim Sunwoo from CS. Kim Sunwoo uses the same cologne as Seungmin’s and he smells so, so sweet.
“Seungmin-ah,” Jisung sighs into Sunwoo’s mouth and freezes. His fingers curled around Sunwoo’s collar loosen and he inches back back back until his back meets the wall and he can’t see Sunwoo’s face. He desperately wants out. He says, “I’m sorry.”
Any sane person would’ve at least tried to get over unrequited love. Jisung’s no sane person.
“It’s okay,” Sunwoo replies. He’s off Jisung’s bed in a second, shrugging back on his discarded jacket from the floor and shoots Jisung a sad smile. Jisung wants to feel bad so bad but he doesn’t. He doesn’t feel bad at all. Sunwoo leaves his dorm at 3.34am and at 3.35am, Jisung reaches across his bed for his phone and opens his chatroom with Seungmin.
He types in seungmin i miss you and doesn’t press send.
If Jeongin, Yongbok, and Minho realise how sad and angst driven most of the recent songs Jisung has been writing for the past year, they don’t say anything. Actually Jisung has to be thankful they don’t say most shit because the alternative would be confronting him about it. And—and well Jisung would’ve denied it again and again and again and gone back to clutching his phone and never pressing send.
At the two hour mark of their jamming session, one of Minho’s drumsticks clips through his fingers and Yongbok starts plucking their strings. Jeongin presses on one key too hard and a little too long and stares and stares and stares. Jisung lets his guitar strap carry the weight of his guitar and takes out a crumpled piece of paper ripped off from his notebook. It’s filled with words and doodles of the sun and the sky and he tells them that he wants to try out a new song. Jeongin says, “This is getting a little unhealthy.”
Jisung has never whipped his head around faster than he just did.
“What is?” Jisung asks but he knows. He knows. They all know.
“This,” Jeongin says, widely gesturing to everything—Minho on the drums, Yongbok on the bass, Jisung on the guitar, smack dab in the middle of everything and finally himself, keyboard. “You think projecting on all your songs is healthy, hyung? All we’ve been singing are break up songs and they’re all fucking sad, Jisung-hyung.”
Jisung gets it. Jeongin only recently found the courage to ask Yongbok out and then—and then he’s forced to hear and play this almost everyday.
Regardless. Break up songs are supposed to be fucking sad. Jisung narrows his eyes at Jeongin. Punk rock asshole Yang Jeongin. Minho already has his fingers pressed against his temple.
“All break up songs are fucking sad, Yang Jeongin,” Jisung bites back. He did not go through a break up though. Not at all. To break up, there must be something. Something to break. Some love.
He didn’t have any.
“Yes, because that’s exactly what I want to hear every single time I’m in the studio with my partner,” Jeongin snaps and walks out of the studio. The door slams shut behind him and Jisung hears Yongbok sigh softly.
“Jisung-ah, he didn’t mean that. We’re doing okay, I promise,” Yongbok says, squeezing his arms one last time before they follow Jeongin out. Jisung feels like crying.
Jisung pre-Seungmin writes about love so stupidly; he writes about sticky hands holding onto each other despite the summer heat. He tries to replicate the feelings in him when he watches Howl and Sophie on screen, when Ponyo jumps into Sosuke’s arms, and when Jiro sends a paper airplane to Naoko. And then he meets Seungmin and his world turns upside down because—because he learns that love can also be this: talking about their favourite bands, sneaking kisses before dropping the other off back home, and finding comfort in each other’s arms, voice, and kisses.
Because they may not be Howl and Sophie, but they could be Jisung and Seungmin.
Jisung post-Seungmin is…something else. He’s blue and broken. Raw, hurt, betrayed. Every song is written with the intention to move on. Six and a half songs later you would think he’d move on three songs ago. Jisung remains stagnant, still at the front door of Seungmin’s apartment with his heart crushed by his feet.
Han and the Boys is what Jisung had named them circa summer ‘19. Jeongin threatened to leave effective immediately, so now they go by The Heart Quartet, which is cringe and terrible. He remembered that Seungmin liked their band name, which made it worse. And The Heart Quartet sounds like a tryhard band too popular to be recording their music in the tiny studio owned by the bassist’s older brother. But it works, so.
When Jisung comes by Chan’s studio to record a track after class, Yongbok greets him with a kiss on the cheek and the biggest smile he’s ever seen. Jeongin never stays mad for long. As soon as he spots Jisung by the door, he lets Jisung press himself against his side on the sofa, cheek against his shoulder. Jeongin sighs and he thinks it’s fond.
“I’m sorry, hyung,” he says. Yongbok’s chatting with their brother across the room and Minho’s already in the recording booth because once the drums are inside, he’s never leaving. He also suspects another reason but that’s not his place to poke it out of him. Jisung pats Jeongin’s thigh. “I like your songs. ‘m just worried is all. Promise.”
“I know. It’s okay, Iyen-ah,” he says, closing his eyes, “I wish I could do something about this, too.”
Once recording ends, they tell Chan their goodbyes before making their way out of the studio. Yongbok and Jeongin have a date, so it leaves Jisung with Minho. They stop by a convenience store for ice cream and sit by the pavement, waiting for the sun to set and for the traffic to ease out.
“You didn’t look that happy when Yongbok said they were going on a date,” is what Jisung starts off with. Minho bites the corner of his ice cream bar and stares ahead. He didn’t mean to look but as Yongbok and Jeongin made their way across the street while swinging their linked hands, Jisung saw something familiar in Minho’s eyes and the set of his jaw. It takes a while to get a response out of Minho and Jisung would’ve settled even without. Because this was enough of an answer and he’s glad he isn’t alone.
“I know what you’re doing, Jisung-ah. It won’t work out.”
“How would you know?”
“I’m not taking this from you out of all people.” Minho doesn’t snap but it cuts across Jisung just the same. He takes a bite of his cone and nods, understanding.
“That’s fair,” he says. The sky’s more vibrant now, the blues turning darker and darker as the orange glow bursts through the horizon. A car honks, a child cries, and Jisung and his best friend are both torn by love. He takes another bite. “Jeongin?”
Minho laughs. Then, a small nod.
“We’re going to be okay,” Minho grumbles, more like a whine than words of comfort. He’s done with his ice cream stick and attempts to get up, palms pushing against his knees as he does so. He groans like an 84-year-old man. “And that was a threat.”
Jisung laughs, head thrown back, and watches the sky change colours bit by bit by bit. The sky swallows the sun and he thinks he’s going to be okay.
Jisung and Seungmin first kissed right after The Heart Quartet performed at their very first booked gig at an underground music cafe in Hongdae. It was summer and Seungmin’s sticky hands on his cheeks felt like brands on his face. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush post-performance. Maybe it was because Seungmin looked up at him from the crowd like he was god. Or maybe it was something silly like love.
Seungmin then proceeded to break his heart the weekend before the start of university, the same weekend Jisung was going to ask Seungmin out to be his boyfriend. Picture this: Jisung, 20, in love and at the footsteps of Seungmin’s front door. The only light coming from the end of the hallway, flickering intermittently. On, off, on, off. Next, Seungmin, recently 20, and cruel. On, off, on, off.
Both stand opposite each other. There are two beating hearts and both belong to Seungmin.
“Sorry,” Seungmin said and Jisung’s heart fell through his ribcage and rolled down towards Seungmin’s feet, right next to his heel. “I can't do this anymore.”
And okay, okay, to be fucking fair it wasn’t Seungmin’s fault what happened to them happened but it was also his. But it was just as much as his as it is Seungmin’s.
Seungmin shouldn’t have let him kiss him. Jisung shouldn’t have pulled Seungmin closer. Jisung liked playing this stupid game because he was nineteen and on fire. He was nineteen and in love and stupid. Seungmin gave him an inch and he took the yard. And more and more and more.
Maybe they had something, maybe they had nothing. Who’s to say.
He should fucking get over Seungmin already.
Jisung presses send.
After love, no one is the same as they were before.
Jisung can’t walk past his old high school without thinking of fingers brushing against each other in the Physics labs. Whisperings of ridiculous Shakespearen quotes and even more ridiculous idioms and similes. He looks at the rundown building, paint peeling off its sides and thinks, something happened here. Something that was once nice, real nice. At university he avoids walking through the quad or any open field like the goddamn plague because he’s so fucking scared he’ll see snatches of Seungmin—of his stupid dyed brown hair, his stupid face, and his stupid metal smile. He can’t listen to Day6 anymore. He no longer performs at the music cafe in Hongdae. His fingers feel foreign because they were once running through Seungmin’s hair and cheeks and now they’re not.
Jisung presses his palms against his cheeks.
“You’re so distant,” Minho points out. They’re both lying on Jisung’s bed in his dorm, legs propped up over the wall and heads hanging off the bed. Their faces are red and Jisung struggles out a grumble.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks and slides his hands off his face and holds them across his stomach. The table fan on his desk whirrs loudly.
Minho hums and stretches his hand over his head and his fingertips brush against the wooden floor. On Jisung’s laptop is Minho’s playlist on loop. He never questioned why it’s named heartsick bastard. The next song plays.
“It’s like you’re here but at the same time, you’re not, you know?” Minho says, shrugging. No, not really, Jisung thinks. He doesn’t like where this is going. Minho turns and looks at Jisung. He’s all red from the blood rush. “Your eyes are empty, like—” he pauses, gnawing on his bottom lip before his voice goes lower, softer. “It’s Seungminnie, isn’t it?”
“Stop!” Jisung snaps, immediately sitting up. Seungmin Seungmin Seungmin and Minho’s asking him if it’s Seungmin like he doesn’t know the answer is of-fucking-course because who the fuck else? Minho, startled, does the same and sits up on the bed. He doesn’t want to hear the stupid name again. And his head hurts. Hot boiling anger and frustration bubbles and bubbles, spilling over the brim. “I’m not—don’t fucking say his name.”
“Han Jisung,” Minho starts, firm and scolding. It almost sounds like when they were kids again and Minho had scolded him for climbing a tree when he’s told him a thousand times to not. This might be a similar case. “Do you think I like seeing my best friend miserable? It’s been over a year, Jisung-ah. I’m worried, okay? Just…just try to get over him or, god, just text the kid.” Jisung feels like a kid again. Filled with rage and not knowing why. Softly, Minho adds, “It’s not fair if you’re the only one suffering here. It’s not healthy.”
“Oh, like making a whole playlist about being in love with two people is better than my ways,” Jisung snickers. Minho’s face falls and Jisung regrets. Shit. Shit shit shit.
“Oh,” Minho says, voice void of any emotion. “I didn’t know you were a fucking asshole.”
Minho untangles his legs and flattens his feet on the floor. He stomps across the room and slams Jisung’s laptop shut, a little too hard, and Taeyeon’s voice gets cut off. Fuck fuck fuck.
“I was trying to be a nice fucking friend.”
Jisung hesitates, watching Minho grab his backpack off the floor. He tries. “Hyung, I didn’t—”
“Fuck you,” he spits and it’s quickly followed by the sound of his door slamming shut. Jisung takes a deep breath and presses his forehead against the wall.
Silence.
And for the first time in a while, he feels completely alone.
Seungmin replies back with a Jisung! / i miss you too
no / seungmin-ah / i miss you. He turns his phone off and turns around in bed. He falls asleep.
Minho doesn’t talk to Jisung for a week even during their jamming sessions, even when their dorm rooms were just across from each other. He deserves it, so he stays silent. Yongbok, ever the worrywart, slings their bass guitar to their back and approaches Jisung the moment Minho leaves for the bathroom.
“Did something happen between you and Minho-hyung?” Yongbok doesn’t look angry but they look frustrated, eyebrows pulled together and face suddenly more shapes and lines. Harsh ones. Jeongin looks between them, tilting his head to the side. They’re waiting for an answer. Yongbok prods even further. “Hyung won’t say anything when I and Iyennie asked. Is there something we can do? Or…”
Yongbok and Jeongin both look at him expectantly. Minho could walk in any damn second. He’s in love with the both of you. Jisung swallows.
“Nothing, Bok-ah, really,” is what he settles with and squeezes their shoulder. Yongbok doesn’t look convinced, not even a little. “I’ll…I’ll talk to hyung later.”
Jeongin tells him nicely, “Fix whatever this is, yeah, hyung?”
Jisung nods and Minho walks in with four cans of Orange Fanta.
Jisung doesn’t expect a reply, really. It was Seungmin that ended whatever they had anyway, so Jisung doesn’t expect a reply. But if anything can come back just by missing it, maybe Seungmin will reply.
It's been two weeks since Minho stormed out of his dorm room and it's getting a little tense in the studio. They meet every Thursday to practise for their booked shows at a few cafes and bars and every other day whenever just to jam. So far, Jisung has only met up with them once. On Thursdays.
Minho snaps.
“Are you not going to fucking say sorry?”
Yongbok and Jeongin are out for a bit, under the pretence of getting more snacks or whatever the fuck. He knows better. It’s either they’re making out at an empty parking lot or they’re actually out to buy snacks, just so Minho and him could talk.
Jisung gnaws on his lower lip because if he doesn’t, he’ll just cry. He had drafted multiple texts to Minho over the weeks, through blurry eyes riddled with typos. He doesn’t want to lose his best friend.
“I’m sorry,” he says and looks up. Minho is still frowning. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was a low blow.”
Minho nods, crossing his arms. “It was,” he says, hurt laced thickly in his voice. Jisung feels like he should grovel. “I was trying to be a nice friend, Jisung.”
Jisung swallows down a sob. Mumbles, “I know. It’s…it’s unhealthy.”
“It hurts seeing you like that, you know. I was just trying to help.”
“I know.”
“Jisungie,” he calls out gently. Jisung looks up. Minho’s shoulders are less tense now. “It’s okay to still like Kim Seungmin. I wish you just talked to him instead.”
Jisung blinks and blinks and suddenly it’s getting a little hard to see Minho. Him, now a blob. A stray tear makes its way down his cheek.
“Hyung,” he begs and takes a step back. He reaches a hand up to wipe his tears away, stopping it before it turns worse. “I don’t—”
Minho clamps his mouth shut. “Okay,” he says and takes a step forward. Then, another and another. He pulls Jisung into a hug, a rare tight hug. Jisung sobs, pressing his face against Minho’s shoulder. He’s pathetic. “It’s okay, Jisung-ah. It’s going to be okay.”
Jisung writes a two page letter to god—mostly why’d you make me like this, partly Seungmin, and a small fraction of I still love him. He crumples it in his hands and screams. He misses the dustbin by a good metre. He cries.
Seungmin’s reply comes a little too late. Can we meet? Please? / I don’t want to do this over text.
What is love? According to the first result on Naver it’s one of Twice’s hit title songs. Jisung closes the tab and laughs. Seungmin’s message has been left unread for a good two (2) days. He still hasn’t decided if he wants to meet him or not. Maybe he should. Maybe he shouldn’t.
Jisung knocks on Minho’s door at 6am on a Saturday, piss drunk and scatterbrained. He thought getting drunk last night was fine, that it was going to be okay. He keeps thinking of Seungmin Seungmin Seungmin and the heart he doesn’t have anymore, his hands, his face, his stupid fucking face, his hair—
Minho throws the door wide open and behind his ridiculous bed hair and lack of sleeping shirt, he sees Jeongin and Yongbok sleeping on Minho’s twin bed, both legs spilling out of the side of the bed. Yongbok’s face is pressed against Jeongin’s neck. He notices there’s a small amount of space behind them. They look in love. Jisung looks at Minho.
“So…”
“It’s six in the fucking morning,” Minho grumbles, running a hand down his face, “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” he grins, wide and dopey and stupid. “Just wanted to bother you.” Then, he nods his head towards Minho’s bed. “Everything okay?”
It’s not until Jisung pointed it out that Minho really, really noticed, seemingly forgetting about the two boys in his bed. The tip of his ears turn bright red and he starts to sputter.
“We talked,” Minho says, looking anywhere but Jisung’s shit-eating grin. He closes the door behind him, softly, and stands in the hallway with Jisung. Just as the sun rises over the horizon, Minho smiles shyly. “They told me. That they, urm. They love me too. Both of them.”
“Oh, hyung!” Realistically, he would be screaming but because it was six in the morning, he gathers Minho in his arms and squeezes the life out of him. Minho laughs, open and happy, right in his ear. “Hyung, I love you. I’m so happy for you.”
“I love you too,” Minho says, laughing. “Also your breath smells like peach soju.”
That night, they sing one of Jeongin’s original songs, something happier and more upbeat, and almost get kicked out from the bar. Management strictly said: NO ORIGINALS! JUST COVERS! Jisung says sorry, sorry and watches Minho run off, both hands holding onto his loves.
Jisung’s downed two and a half shots of soju when he presses a man against a wall and giggles into his mouth. He calls him Seungminnie and misses his mouth. Seungmin’s not this short.
“Not, urm, Seungmin,” not Seungmin says and Jisung peels himself off the man, suddenly awake. It’s like he’s been burnt. His hands red, his tongues tied. He blinks again and again until he makes out a face. It’s not Seungmin. His lungs burn.
“Oh, yeah,” he says and laughs dryly. He feels like fucking crying. “Sorry, shit. I’m sorry.”
But before not Seungmin could even answer, he’s stumbling back into the side of the bar where Yongbok is. Yongbok has a cup of water in their hand instead of liquor. They have a smile on their face as they watch Minho and Jeongin from afar on the dance floor and only look away when Jisung shoves his face against their shoulder.
Yongbok giggles. “Yes, baby?”
“I miss Seungmin,” he spits out, slurred. “I miss—I miss him so much. I miss him so much, Yongbok-ah.”
“Okay,” he hears Yongbok. He really does. But they sound so far away. “Okay, Jisungie. You’re drunk. Wanna go home?”
He frowns. Grumbles, “Want Seungminnie.”
“Maybe one day, hmm?” They run their hand through Jisung’s hair. Comforting and calm. “When you talk to him.”
“Okay.”
Suddenly his body goes limp and gravity drags him by the ankles. Down, down, down. A second later another pair of arms are around him. He hears laughter.
“Let’s go home, Jisungie,” Minho says, helping him out of the bar.
Jisung cries in Minho’s backseat, watching the city lights turn blurry by the second. Jeongin’s hugging Yongbok’s bass guitar case and looking at him warily. Yongbok by the passenger seat thrums his fingers against the dashboard. The song on Minho’s speaker is sad. Sad in the way that makes Jisung want to cry even harder. So he does just that.
Jisung has his feet propped up on his desk when his phone pings from a notification. He drops his notes on his lap and reaches out over his legs for his phone. It buzzes and buzzes and finally stops when Jisung gets a hold of it. Kim Seungmin: Two (2) Unread Messages.
Jisungie?
I’m sorry.
okay let’s meet up
Jisung hates platitudes but it is what it is.
“Are you sure?”
Jisung’s shrugging his shirt on, one hand through. “Yeah,” he answers. Minho’s looking at him from his bed like he’s glass. At the brink of being broken. He goes through the other arm. “Minho-hyung,” he calls out and Minho blinks back. “I’ll be okay.”
“Can I believe you?”
“Of course, you can.”
“Everytime you get drunk, you’ll cry,” he points out. Jisung flinches. “Talk to him, okay? Don’t close up.”
Jisung finishes buttoning his shirt and flattens his palms against his chest.
“Okay,” he says and tries not to feel empty. “Okay.”
Jisung doesn’t close up. He has his hands out on the table, cool underneath his palm. Seungmin, sitting right across from him, has his fingers intertwined on his lap. They’re at a cafe a little further away from campus with little less traffic and customers lest Jisung break down, there would be no spectacle. He smiles bitterly.
It’s not like Jisung and Seungmin has been complete strangers. They still follow each other on social media, even though it pains Jisung to watch his Instagram stories and posts. It’s almost as if it never affected Seungmin. Seungmin took off his braces earlier this year. He’s grown more into his clothes, filling up sweaters with broad shoulders. Seungmin looks put together, grown. He’s afraid he can’t say the same about himself.
“Jisung-ah,” Seungmin begins and his name feels so safe tucked in his mouth. So nice. He should keep it there forever. “Jisung, I—”
“Don’t say sorry,” he quickly cuts him off gently. He finally gets the courage to look up and really, really look at Seungmin. His dumb face and stupid hair. His heart hurts so much. “It’s okay.”
Seungmin presses his lips into a thin line and stares at his hands.
A beat later, Jisung opens his mouth again. He picks on a loose thread on the rip of his jeans.
“You know, Seungmin-ah,” he starts. He looks at Seungmin this time. His eyes are wide, like he can’t believe Jisung’s saying his name. He hopes it’s safe in his mouth too. “You’re really hard to get over.”
Jisung laughs, watching Seungmin’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink.
“The weekend we broke it off—”
“I,” Seungmin cuts him off, “I broke it off.”
“Yeah.” Jisung takes a deep breath. “That weekend. I was really looking forward to seeing you again, you know? I thought we were gonna talk about our plans in university. Maybe even living in the same dorm building. And then I—” he clears his throat and looks at his hands, smiling pathetically, “—I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend.”
A beat passes. “Oh.”
Jisung marches through. Says, “I know what we had was short and silly. We didn’t talk about what it was. We were just two dumb teens. I—I get that. But I just…I want to know why. Was it—”
“Jisung,” Seungmin says, leaning forward between them. Jisung stares. “I wanted more.”
Jisung balks. “What?”
“I wanted more with you. I never, urm, I never told you but what we had was good. It was the best, Jisung-ah, but I wanted more and I thought that—”
“I wouldn’t want the same,” Jisung trails, dumbfounded. Never in a million years he would’ve thought that his Seungmin wanted more, that it was just as painful as it was for Jisung to end what they had. That Jisung, all this while, was also holding onto Seungmin’s heart.
“But you did,” Seungmin says softly.
“But I did,” he chokes out and looks away. “Seungmin-ah, I think this was a mistake.”
“No, no, no,” he says and stands up, dragging his chair behind him. It screeches loudly against the floor but none of the workers care. The music in the cafe increases in volume.
For the first time in a long fucking while, Jisung feels Seungmin’s touch against his skin. He grabs Jisung by his wrists and pulls them close to his chest as he sits back down, eyes glassy.
“Jisungie. My Hannie,” he says, smiling, “This isn’t a mistake. Did you think you were easy to get over too?”
Oh. Oh.
Oh.
“I miss you all the time and you’re right—we were both dumb. I should’ve—I should’ve talked to you instead of thinking you wouldn’t want me the same way.”
“I always want you,” he says quietly. He feels his lips start to quiver and presses them together.
“I know that now, baby,” he says and Jisung’s heart flips. He pushes his hands up to reach Jisung’s and laces their fingers together. He squeezes them once, twice. It’s nice. “I just—look, it’s stupid, I know but—but you were the lead singer of a band. You play the guitar and you look so good on stage. You’re so cool, Jisungie. My superstar. I never thought you’d want someone like me to be with you.”
Jisung lets go of one hand and punches Seungmin’s arm. He laughs as he rubs his arm.
“You’re stupid,” he says. Then, quietly he adds, “Have I ever made you feel that way? That I didn’t want you?”
Seungmin shakes his head. “No, it was all me. I was just…you have to understand, Sung-ah, that to me you were going to hit big. You weren’t just meant for a few booked gigs. I thought to myself, like, who am I to someone like you? It was just me. I was scared,” he says, bringing a hand up to cup Jisung’s cheek. “You were the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
This time, Jisung lets himself cry. Seungmin wipes them away.
“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me too, Seungmin-ah,” he chokes out because he needs to let Seungmin know. He’s afraid Seungmin will listen to his brain more than him once more. “I don’t—I don’t care about anything else. Even if I do hit big, I would’ve still wanted you. You, the nerdy guy who transferred to my class in the middle of the year. I would’ve tried finding you and your stupid metal smile in everyone. It’s always been you.”
Seungmin laughs, knocking their foreheads together.
“I know that now,” he whispers between them. Jisung reaches up and holds Seungmin’s wrist.
“Now that you know,” he says, “What do you want, Seungmin-ah?”
“I want to try again. Better, this time.”
Jisung’s mouth is left dry. There was no hesitance, no paused moment, but an immediate answer. Here is Seungmin, asking, wanting and Jisung? Jisung wants it too.
“Okay,” he says, smiling despite it all because he’s so fucking relieved. His chest feels free, no longer caged, and allows the butterflies to flutter against his ribcage. Seungmin wants him and Jisung wants him too. He presses their foreheads together and lets out a shuddering breath. They’re so…stupid. “Okay. Let’s try again.”
They try again, better this time.
Seungmin asks him out on a date, a proper one, right after he picks Jisung up from his evening class. It’s at the Hongdae music cafe and Jisung chokes on a laugh because he’d never thought he’d step foot in that place ever again. He says yes and lets Seungmin drag him away for coffee.
Jisung holds the mic steady and takes a deep breath.
Except he doesn’t sing straight away because—
Seungmin’s here. He sticks out like a goddamn sore thumb from the crowd with his bleached bangs and sky blue sweater. Jisung can’t help but break into a grin seeing him wave.
Hey, Seungmin mouths, Good luck!
Jisung still can’t believe this is real, that this all isn’t just a fever dream. They’re not boyfriends yet but they’re getting there, slowly, date by date. His breath gets caught in his throat the moment Minho does a count. He raises a hand to motion for him to stop. He gets confused looks from the crowd, from Seungmin, and Jeongin lowers his mic to ask him, “What the fuck, hyung?”
“I, uh, have something to say,” Jisung says, hands gripping tight around the mic to ground himself. “This song means so much to me. It’s for…” he trails, eyes finding Seungmin’s. “For someone I love. Enjoy.”
And then he’s singing and it’s so much pain and it’s so raw, beating heart laid out bare for the crowd and Seungmin to hear. His chest feels lighter, not empty and hollow, and it’s nice. It’s nice. He doesn’t cry when he sings about a love that can melt his bones, constantly returning to his one person, and how no matter what, Seungmin will always be the brightest star in his eyes.
He doesn’t look for Seungmin until he’s left the stage, until Minho and Yongbok are urging him on to go find his lover boy. He packs his equipment quickly, dumps it in the back room of the cafe and heads out to find Seungmin. On stage, another band gets ready for their own set.
It’s easy to find Seungmin. His bleached bangs and sky blue sweater is the first thing he sees, pressed against the wall right at the back of the cafe. When Jisung locks eyes with him, his heart hurts. There’s a sudden ache in his chest. Seungmin’s crying, eyes red and glassy.
“Seungminnie,” he calls out softly. The band’s performing something more upbeat than theirs. Seungmin whines and covers his face with his hands. Jisung can’t help but laugh. “Why are you crying?”
“No, I’m not.”
Jisung coos, fingers wrapping themselves around Seungmin’s wrists. He pulls his hands away and sees Seungmin’s tear-tracked face, red and splotchy. He pouts, then hiccups.
Oh, Jisung is fucked. He loves Seungmin so, so much.
“Your song,” Seungmin confesses, “It’s really nice.”
“Yeah?” Jisung smiles. “I thought you’d like it. You know, since I wrote it for you—”
“Can I kiss you?” Seungmin cuts him off, eyes wide like he didn’t mean for that to come out.
But Jisung doesn’t answer. He cups Seungmin’s cheeks instead just as Seungmin reaches for his waist and finally finally finally pulls him into a kiss. Over a year later, Jisung gets to kiss Seungmin again.
Seungmin’s giving him a proper kiss, a kiss that can melt his bones and feels like home. Seungmin pulls away, mouth slick, and pulls Jisung closer in his arms. Jisung strokes Seungmin’s tear-tracked cheek with his thumb, grinning dumbly and tells him to kiss him again.
He feels like exploding and bursting into flames when Seungmin licks into his mouth but it also feels like home. So so much like home. He is kissing Seungmin. He is kissing Seungmin. He whimpers into Seungmin’s mouth and drags him impossibly closer.
He pulls away, giggling and out of breath when he realises they’re in public. He’s glad the cafe is crowded since there was a whole lineup of bands performing tonight. Seungmin looks at him, starry eyed, and smiles dopily.
“I missed you so much,” Seungmin chokes out, “You don’t know how happy I was when I saw your missed call that day.”
Jisung, overwhelmed with love, leans back in for a kiss. Seungmin laughs.
“I missed you too,” he says, feeling his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. “We’ve been on three dates and this is our first kiss. Is it too soon to ask you to be my boyfriend?”
Seungmin looks like he’s conflicted between crying and laughing. He chokes out a laugh and groans as tears steadily make their way down his cheeks. Jisung finds Seungmin the cutest boy on earth. He continues to wipe his tears away, waiting patiently.
“Fuck, why am I crying so much,” he grumbles and playfully glares Jisung. Pinches his waist. Jisung yelps. “This is all your fault! Why would you say that before singing the best song in the entire world?”
“It’s for the best boy in the entire world!”
Seungmin’s face colours. “Jisung!”
“Seungmin!” Jisung screeches back, laughing. “So? Are you my boyfriend or what?”
Seungmin scoffs. “Are you stupid? Of course, I want to. You’re stuck with me forever,” he says and locks his arms around Jisung’s back. He pecks the tip of Jisung’s nose. “Mine.”
Jisung rests his head on Seungmin’s shoulders and sags his entire weight in Seungmin’s arms; his home.
“Hmm,” he says. The singer on stage is singing something softer this time. Seungmin sways them both side to side. “I love you, Seungmin.”
“Cringe.” Jisung pinches his cheek. “Ow. Okay. I love you. I loved you then and I love you now.” He pulls back and looks at Jisung straight in the eyes. “And I want to love you forever.”
Jisung lets out a strained noise at the back of his throat and lets Seungmin shut him up with a kiss.
“Do you want to eat ramen?”
Jisung stops in his tracks and Seungmin stops too since they’re holding hands. After the gig ended earlier, Seungmin asked Minho, Yongbok, and Jeongin if he could steal Jisung away for the night. Jisung should be offended at how quickly they shooed them out but Yongbok throwing two thumbs up his way and Jeongin and Minho giving him a knowing grin made something warm settle in his chest. He can see the tips of Seungmin’s ears burning bright red. He can’t believe this.
“Kim Seungmin,” he says, whistling lowly. “Who the hell taught you that?”
“What? Is that a crime? Do you know how many times I’ve practised saying that before I asked you? Do you know how much I want to die right now?”
Jisung can’t help but laugh in disbelief. Practising asking Jisung if he wanted to have sex is so…Seungmin. And he’s in love with him. Shit.
“I’d love to,” he says and links his arms with Seungmin’s. “But I’ve never, you know.”
“Had ramen?” Seungmin teases with a glint in his eye.
Jisung shoves Seungmin off of him.
“What makes you think I have,” Seungmin blurts out. Jisung squeezes his arm. “But as long as you want—”
“I do want it. With you.”
“Okay,” Seungmin smiles. All cheek and excitement. “Let’s have ramen then.”
Seungmin’s dorm room is a few streets away from his, closer to the social science college since that’s where his classes are at. It’s almost the same size as his own dorm, just a different room layout. Seungmin’s sheets are blue. As soon as the door closes, Seungmin shoves Jisung against his door and kisses him again.
“Sorry,” he says between kisses, between busy hands roaming all over Jisung’s body. “I don’t have ramen.”
Jisung still can’t believe this is happening; doesn’t believe that it’s Seungmin licking into his mouth and pushing him down against his bed, that it’s Seungmin that’s crawling into his lap, nosing his cheek and begging Jisung to fuck him. Jisung feels like he’s dreaming.
“It’s not a dream, baby, I promise you. But can you please just—”
Jisung grabs underneath Seungmin’s thighs and flips them over. Seungmin yelps, hands coming up to wrap around Jisung’s neck. He’s all pink in the face with glassy eyes and bitten lips. He wants to eat him alive.
It’s quick work after that. After their clothes and underwear are tugged off and are left onto the floor, Seungmin takes Jisung’s fingers in his mouth and sucks on them as Jisung finds the lube underneath Seungmin’s mattress. Jisung wants to die. Seungmin licks between his fingers and moans, grinding his cock against the knee Jisung slots in between his legs.
“Impatient,” he teases, when he pulls his fingers out of Seungmin’s mouth and pours lube on them. Seungmin whines but spreads his legs wider anyway. “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses Seungmin’s knee briefly as he teases a finger against his rim. “My baby. My Seungminnie.”
“Hnng, baby—”
Seungmin tells him to hurry up, cock already leaking precum against his stomach when Jisung works three fingers in him. But Jisung doesn’t want to stop because Seungmin looks so beautiful begging for more, hands gripping onto Jisung’s shoulders and eyes a little hazy with lust. Jisung curls his fingers inside him and Seungmin whimpers, letting go of Jisung’s shoulders to try and pull them out.
“Jisung.” He tries to sound intimidating but all that comes out is a whine as Jisung removes his fingers, finally.
“Baby, we don’t have condoms.”
“Jisung, just fuck me already,” Seungmin groans, hips wriggling down to get Jisung’s cock to nudge his empty hole. Jisung forgot about himself for a second and groaned at the friction. “Wanna come on your cock, Jisung-ah. Please, please, please—I’m clean and you must be too since we’re both fucking virgins and we can get tested together after but baby, please—” Seungmin begs, pulling Jisung closer for a hungry kiss, almost like he really will eat Jisung up. “Please fuck me.”
Jisung lets out a laugh in disbelief. He can’t believe he scored the most impatient and horniest man on earth. He aligns himself with Seungmin’s hole and slowly pushes inside, the both of them holding their breaths until he bottoms out.
He’s kissing Seungmin, both hands planted flat on either side of him when Seungmin tells him to move. Jisung does and pulls away to register every expression that dawns over Seungmin’s face in his memory.
“Such a good boy for your baby, hmm?” Seungmin moans, fingers running through Jisung’s hair as he takes slow, measured thrusts. They’re both nervous, both trying to test which buttons to push. Seungmin tugs on his hair and he whimpers. “Oh, my baby likes that.”
“Seungmin—”
“You feel so good hnng—”
Jisung hooks Seungmin’s leg over his shoulders and slams inside Seungmin harder and faster that has him drop his mouth open in a silent cry. He whines and whimpers, hands grabbing for Jisung and pulls him closer.
“I’m not gonna last—”
“Me too,” Jisung pants against his mouth. “You’re so—you’re so fucking tight around me, baby.”
Seungmin clenches around him and Jisung finds himself making sounds he doesn’t even recognise. God, Seungmin. His Seungmin on his cock, tight and sweet.
Jisung snaps his hips harder, telling Seungmin that he’s going to come and barely manages to pull out before he comes right on Seungmin’s cock. Seungmin cries at the feeling, the warmth making his cock twitch and leak even more. Jisung strokes his cock with his cum and Seungmin’s precum once, twice, before he comes, spurting hot and white over himself.
Seungmin looks like a wet dream coming down from his high, flushed and covered in his own cum and Jisung’s. He shoots Jisung a tired smile.
“Fucking hell,” Jisung pants out and lets himself collapse into Seungmin’s open arms. Seungmin then grabs his chin to kiss him some more, more slow, more sated, more lazy. Just wanting to be close. “I love you.”
He feels Seungmin smile between kisses and gives Jisung one last kiss, longer than the rest.
“I love you too.”
Seungmin comes over Jisung’s house for Christmas Eve because they agreed that they’d have Christmas day’s dinner with Seungmin’s family. When they were planning this in the aftersex haze in Jisung’s bed, he can’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of doing this for the rest of his life. He introduces Seungmin as his boyfriend and kicks his older brother in the shin when he asks, “Hasn’t he always been your boyfriend?”
Dinner goes well because his parents have always loved Seungmin from the very beginning, from when he was only his lab partner and nothing more. Jisung’s brother still can’t believe they weren’t dating the whole entire time. Jisung honestly can’t believe that either.
“I can’t believe I get to have you like this,” Jisung says as he takes a seat on Seungmin’s lap. They’re alone in the living room, his parents going out to take a short stroll and his brother having plans with his own friends. Jisung thinks it’s adorable that Seungmin will always unconsciously tuck his hand underneath Jisung thighs when he sits on his lap. Seungmin hums and does exactly that.
“I get to have you like this too, isn’t that crazy,” Seungmin smiles, pulling him in for a short kiss. “Gross. I love you so much.”
Jisung scrunches his nose and leans back in for another kiss. “Ew, I love you so much.”
Seungmin laughs and digs his fingers in Jisung’s waist. He yelps and jumps off Seungmin but Seungmin is quick to pull him back down on his lap, peppering kisses all over his face.
“Let’s have a date on New Year’s eve,” Seungmin asks against his lips. Jisung feels like his smile is going to break his face. His heart flutters in excitement.
“Aw does Seungminnie want to be my New Year’s kiss?” He teases, rubbing his fingers under Seungmin’s chin.
“I want to be your New Year’s kiss next year and forever.” Seungmin says with so much conviction that Jisung’s knees feel weak. He’s glad he’s sitting down.
“Good,” Jisung says and squishes Seungmin’s face between his palms, “because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”