Chapter Text
Ten years.
It had been ten years. And ten years was a long time, especially in the beginning. Those first few months felt like ten years as it was.
The day was cold. He was heading back to work. He had only stepped out to take a walk.
Jisung never thought he would be standing on the corner of the street, his eyes connecting with his.
Ten years later.
At first, he thought he'd imagined it. He really thought his mind was playing tricks on him. It had been a while since he had daydreamed about him.
But he looked almost the same as he did ten years ago. His smile was nowhere to be found on his face. His dark eyes watched him carefully.
He had turned away so quickly that Jisung began running across the street before he could even think. The light was still red. The cars were still moving. He knew it was stupid. But he had to know if it was really him.
He had to know.
He could hear the car horns. He could hear the people screaming at him. But he kept going, even though he knew it was dangerous.
His head turned to see a car screeching to a halt, and he braced himself. He knew he had been reckless before, but he really messed up now.
He clenched his eyes shut. He felt his body moving. But it wasn’t painful.
“Are you out of your fucking mind, Jisung?”
He looked to see him. He had yanked him back, his jacket in a fistful of his hand. They were on the side of the street now. His eyes were wild. And this had to be a dream.
“M-Minho.”
He looked so conflicted, but he didn’t seem surprised to see him.
The people around them were staring. Minho gripped his hand then, pulling him down the street. He could barely keep up, his feet skidding across the pavement as he dragged him. His hand felt like it was on fire.
He was still in shock. Following him without question, because he still couldn't believe it.
Ten years.
It had been ten years.
He pulled him to an alley. He looked around cautiously. Jisung noticed his face had a scar that he couldn’t remember being there before. It was striking through his left eyebrow and down his eyelid.
He definitely wasn’t the scrawny kid he used to know, either. His muscles ripped through his black dress shirt. His hair was dyed, cut short, and styled back.
He looked absolutely breathtaking. But his boyish face was still the same, just as he remembered it. His lips were pink and frowning. Just like usual.
His demeanor confused him, the panicked looks over his shoulder worried him. He looked like he was trying to hide from something, or someone.
“Shit,” he swore, grabbing him again. “We have to go.”
“What?” Jisung’s voice cracked as he clenched his fingers around his wrist.
Before he knew it, they took off running so fast that Jisung could barely keep up. And he had so many questions. He wanted to know why he looked so panicked and why he didn’t seem as surprised to see him as he was. He had no idea why he was tugging him down the street and into a random basement building.
It was a restaurant that he hadn’t recognized. It was busy, and the hostess looked confused at their sweaty foreheads and heaving chests.
“For two?” She asked, and Minho nodded calmly.
“Please.” He smiled at her, with a glance over his shoulder again.
She returned a grin, beckoning for them to follow.
The restaurant was dimly lit, and Jisung could hear him asking for a corner booth.
She placed menus in front of them, and Jisung stared at him, confused. Minho’s anxiousness was clear on his face.
He had so many questions, but before he could get anything out, Minho was staring at him with earnest eyes and grabbing his wrist.
“Listen to me. I’m going to leave, and you’re not going to follow. Do you understand?” His voice was dark and demanding.
“W-What?” he panicked. He was leaving? He couldn’t. He couldn’t leave already.
Ten years.
“Jisung. Listen to me, right now. Promise me. Please promise me you won’t follow.”
Jisung could feel the tears welling in his eyes. He was so disoriented. He had no idea what was happening right now.
“But why? You’re…You’re here. Why are you…what’s going on?” Tears brimmed his eyes.
“Fuck.” He swore, pressing his fingers to his own eyes as Jisung gave him such a desperate look.
“Minho. Please. Don’t leave. Just…Can’t we talk?” he begged.
Jisung’s breath hitched as he felt his hand caress his cheek.
“Don’t follow. Promise me right now.”
Jisung didn’t want to promise that. He couldn’t leave him. Not again. Not again without an explanation.
“You can’t…You can’t just leave again. I have…so many things I need to say. I have to know why...”
He could feel him freeze against his skin. His eyes were cold. He couldn’t read his emotions. But he seemed nervous.
He bit his lip, conflicted, but he spoke gently, stroking his cheek.
“If you promise me you’ll stay here and eat, I’ll come find you again.” He told him then, and Jisung found himself nodding slowly. He had no idea if he could believe those words. But Minho looked so serious, he was afraid to say no.
Before he could say another word, he was out of his seat and heading for the exit. It took everything in him not to chase after him. His heart shattered as he disappeared from his sight.
He felt the pain tearing through him, and he clenched his fingers so hard he thought he would break the skin on his palms.
“What can I get for you?”
He smiled at the waitress the best he could. His heart was hammering in his chest from the adrenaline and from seeing him again. But he listened to him, because he needed to see him again, and so he ordered something.
“I’ll have your soup special.”
He wasn’t hungry at all.
He was supposed to be back at work.
And he wasn’t expecting to run into his ex-boyfriend, who had suddenly disappeared ten years ago.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Changbin asked, and Jisung snapped back to reality after zoning out again.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He apologized. They were hanging out at the bar they frequented down the street from their work. He had suggested they get a few beers after they finished up the day, and Jisung needed something, anything to distract him.
It had been two weeks since he had run into Minho. He hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
He couldn’t get his panicked face out of his mind. He felt sick that he couldn’t ask him any questions. The pain from all those years ago resurfacing.
“You’ve been really distracted lately,” Changbin mentioned with a frown on his face.
“I’m okay, I’m just feeling a little tired these days.” He smiled at him. He had been working with Changbin for a couple of years at his teaching job. He was a college professor now.
He knew Changbin could tell something else was wrong, but he must have decided to let it go because he was moving their conversation back to work. He was once again talking about how he couldn’t wait four more weeks until the semester was over.
He received a text from Chan then, asking when he would be home. He hadn’t told him about Minho’s sudden appearance either.
Mostly because Chan would probably worry about him, after he disappeared, Chan had taken on the burden of taking care of Jisung.
He was grateful to him. Because when Jisung was drowning himself in tears, refusing to eat, and trying to drop out of college, Chan was there to help him and push him through it.
It was always Chan who was picking him up from the depths of his depression. He had moved in with him after his disappearance, and they had lived together ever since.
The three of them were high school friends.
And Chan knew how much Jisung loved Minho. He knew how hard it was for him when he suddenly disappeared. He saw how it destroyed him.
After a few years, it became a little easier, but the pain always lingered, and some days were worse than others.
“Chan’s asking what time I’m coming home,” He mentioned, and Changbin gave him a suggestive smile.
“Are you sure you guys are just friends? He cares about you an awful lot.” Changbin smirked, and that made Jisung wince.
Their relationship was definitely complicated. Because they weren’t together. But they’ve slept together. He couldn’t tell you the number of times Chan made him forget about his pain just for the moment.
His kiss was a comfort to him. And Jisung knew Chan felt something for him. After Minho left, Jisung realized just how much Chan liked him. He knew it was wrong for him to use him, but he would fall apart without him. But Chan had kissed him first. He had laid him down, pressing into him, devouring his lips.
Jisung never made the first move, but it was easy to follow his lead. It was simple to drown in his love.
Chan never pushed him for more. A relationship between them was impossible. Because he knew how Jisung felt, he knew about their history, and they never talked about it.
After he left, it was easy to take advantage of his feelings. Jisung felt guilty. He really did. But Chan never complained. If Jisung was by his side, it seemed it was enough for him.
“We’re just friends,” he assured him, and Changbin rolled his eyes.
“Oh, come on. You’ve lived with this guy for what, ten years?”
“We went to high school together. We’re childhood friends.” He shrugged, and Changbin shook his head.
“And he texts you every day, asking if you’ve eaten, asking if you’re coming home on time, and asking where you are when you’re late,” he pointed out.
Jisung sighed. He had no desire to explain his relationship with Chan to him. He wouldn’t understand. Especially because he had no idea how Minho had destroyed them.
“It’s really not like that.”
“Whatever you say, bud.” He slammed back the rest of his beer, and he knew he had to head home. Chan had noticed his odd behavior recently, and he would always worry whenever he would get like this.
“Look, I have to go, but I’ll see you on Monday.” Jisung quickly paid their tab, and Changbin ruffled his hair in thanks before he could head out into the cold night.
It was mid-November, and it was freezing. He pulled his jacket around him and fixed his hat over his ears before making his way back to their apartment.
It wasn’t far from his work or from the bar. But he took the long way, heading down the street, thinking maybe he would see him again.
He hovered around the street lamp for a little longer than he should have. He felt the pit of pain deepening inside him as he kept walking. He knew it was ridiculous of him to think he would come back.
He had no idea what had happened to him after he disappeared.
He hadn’t seen it coming. One day, he was gone, and he never heard from him again.
When he returned home, he hung his coat and his nose was bright red from the sting of the wind.
Chan had been waiting for him, getting up from the couch.
“You’re cold,” he said, rubbing his palms on his cheeks.
“It’s cold out.”
“I could have picked you up.” He frowned, and Jisung pulled away from him. Ever since he had seen Minho again, he couldn’t help dodging his touch. Chan must have noticed, because the sadness spread to his eyes.
He shrugged. “It was a short walk. It was fine.”
Chan sighed. “Jisung.”He spoke his name so softly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
The thing about Chan was that he could never hide his feelings from him. But he couldn’t tell him. It would be pointless, especially if Minho would never show up again. There was no reason to worry him.
“Nothing is wrong.” He tried to smile at him, but Chan just pulled him closer, wrapping his hands around his wrists.
“Don’t lie,” he pleaded, because he knew how much Jisung hated talking about his feelings. He loved to bottle them up, which was why he just let him kiss him instead. He couldn’t talk when his mouth was on his.
It was easier this way.
He met him thirteen years ago, when he transferred to his school district. He was quiet, and he always had a frown on his face. No one really talked to him, but that didn’t deter Jisung. He had noticed he was writing lyrics in his notebook, which piqued his interest.
“Do you like music?” he had asked with a smile, and he looked up at him with an unfriendly expression. But Jisung didn’t mind.
“Not really.” He responded, and Jisung knew he was just shy, guarding himself. He could tell by the way he blushed.
“My friend and I play in a band together. Well, it’s not really much of a band with just a singer and a guitarist,” he explained, and Minho had looked completely uninterested, but Jisung could tell that behind that hard exterior, he was happy someone was talking to him.
“Why don’t you come to the band room with me? You can hear us play,” he offered, and he was totally expecting to be denied, but Minho had bit his lip.
“Would that be okay?”
That made a giant smile form on Jisung’s face.
“Absolutely.”
He learned that he was staying with foster parents. But Jisung never pressed him for any details. He was pretty private about his home life. He barely spoke to others, but with Jisung chatting his ear off, he didn’t have time to talk to other people anyway.
Chan liked him too. Minho actually had a decent voice, and he would brainstorm with him and Jisung when writing lyrics for their songs.
He was extremely kind, even if he tried to hide it. He would bring Jisung lunch from the lunchroom when he knew he was skipping, writing lyrics in the band room. He would let him sleep in his lap when he stayed up too late studying. He was the only person he would smile at, and the day Jisung earned a small laugh from him was the day that sparked his heart.
He found he really liked that smile of his. He also liked the soft touch of his skin on his whenever he would reach out to grab him. He liked his kindness. He liked how cute his face was. He liked being around him.
But he was always getting into trouble. He would smoke on school grounds. He would skip class constantly. Jisung never knew where he was or where he would go. He would never tell him. He hated it when Jisung questioned him about it.
Minho was seventeen when his foster parents kicked him out. He was seventeen when he started disappearing for days at a time. He was eighteen when he kissed Jisung for the first time. He was eighteen when he took Jisung’s virginity. He was eighteen when he told him he loved him. He was eighteen when he disappeared.
Eighteen-year-old Minho was the one who lived in his memories.
He never knew why he left. He broke his heart, and he had no idea why.
And it had been three weeks since Minho had appeared in front of him suddenly.
His hope was dissipating with every passing day. He knew he couldn’t rely on his word. He probably hadn’t wanted to run into him, but he almost killed himself trying to get to him. He had to save him from getting seriously hurt. He probably regretted it and was trying to get rid of him, once again.
On Sunday mornings, Jisung liked to visit the bakery down the street and work out at the gym after getting a coffee. He found that having a routine forced him out of the house.
He ordered his regular black coffee and smiled at the barista as she handed it to him.
“Oh, sir.” She called out before he could leave. He looked back over his shoulder at the younger girl. “Someone asked me to give this to you.”
He looked at her, confused as she handed him a note that was folded.
“Me?” She just nodded, walking away instantly to help another customer.
309 Fifth Ave, floor 16, room 34 - Min
His heartbeat instantly picked up, and he ended up leaving his coffee on the counter, accidentally forgotten as he bolted for the door.
He had never run so fast in his entire life, asking Siri to direct him to the address on the paper, which he had crumpled in his hand.
His adrenaline pumped through his veins. It was a ten-minute walk, but he knew it was faster to keep his legs moving. He couldn’t risk missing him.
He didn’t even apologize as he pushed and bumped into strangers. He didn’t care about their complaints.
He probably looked insane as he ran through the front doors. The elevators were busy, but he slammed the button over and over again. The woman next to him stared at him like he had lost his mind.
The lift was too slow. It was way too slow, and he barely waited for the doors to open before he bounded out onto floor 16. He quickly followed the arrows, directing him to the proper room, and before he could bring himself to knock, he froze.
Because Minho was back. He was here. Right behind that door. He came to find him. Like he had promised.
He knocked gently, and it felt like an eternity before it slowly opened a crack.
“Min—” Before he could finish, he was tugged through the small opening, the door handle slamming into his stomach as he was pulled in. He was pushed into the room, the lock instantly put into place, and the latch secured.
Minho turned, and Jisung gasped at the bruise on his face and his busted lip. He looked exhausted, and Jisung’s heart was beating so fast he thought he was going to pass out.
Because here he was. In the flesh, and his voice was caught in his throat.
“Han Jisung.” His tone was hard to read, and Jisung felt the tears threatening to spill past his eyes.
It almost felt surreal, and he felt he had to touch him to see if it was really him and not his imagination.
“Minho…” he breathed out.
Minho reached out to him, pulling him to his chest. His hand wrapped around his head, his other arm pressed to his back.
The overwhelming feeling of his hands on him shook him to the core. He could barely breathe. His throat constricted with choked breaths.
But Jisung was frozen, not hugging him back.
Because even though he was so happy to see him, his anger was starting to boil. Because he had no idea what was happening. He had no idea why he had disappeared all those years ago. He didn’t understand why he showed up out of the blue. The panic in his eyes when he saw him for the first time in ten years. The certainty in his voice when he told him that he couldn’t follow him that day. The note he left him. The bruises on his face.
It took everything in him to push him back, but he did, his eyes spilling with angry tears.
“What the fuck is going on? Why are you here? Where did you go? Why did you leave? What—what is happening?” He sobbed, his questions all tumbling out at once. He cried even harder when Minho pulled him in again, resting his forehead against his.
“I don’t have much time. If they find me here…If they know about you…” He spoke softly, like he was afraid someone was listening.
“What? What are you talking about? Who?” Jisung was so confused, and he wanted to know why he had left him all those years ago. But new questions were piling up as he kept talking.
“This is all my fault. I got too close, and I knew I shouldn’t have.” He sighed, and Jisung felt his heart clench when he finally pulled away.
He wished he would just tell him what was going on, but he was clearly refusing to answer any of his questions.
“Please, Minho. Please tell me what’s going on. What happened to your face?” he pleaded, reaching out to touch the dark mark, but Minho’s eyes locked on his, his face stern.
Minho grabbed his wrist, gently pulling his hand away.
“I kept my promise, I came to find you. But after today, we can never see each other again,” he told him so definitively, and Jisung’s eyes went wide.
“What? No. No!” he yelled.
Minho’s hand slapped over his mouth. His eyes were serious as Jisung breathed heavily against his palm.
“You need to be quiet. Please, Jisung,” he pleaded.
Jisung could see his tears dripping down the back of his hand. He let it drop back to his side after he calmed down, but Jisung shook his head.
“You can’t go. You haven’t told me what the hell is going on, or why you left.” He cried, and Minho sighed deeply. His hand was on his face again, brushing the tears from his puffy cheeks, but he remained silent. So Jisung spoke again.
“I never forgot you. I still…I still love you. I still think about you all the time. Why did you leave? I don’t understand why,” he rushed out, thinking if he didn’t say it now, he never would get to. The pained look on Minho’s face made his heart ache even more.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Before I knew what I was getting into, it was too late,” he told him, his eyes sorrowful. But Jisung still had no idea what the hell he was talking about.
“What? What do you mean?” He gripped his shirt then, and Minho stiffened at the touch.
“Do you remember when I would disappear for days at a time? Do you remember how I would never tell you where I was?” he asked him, and Jisung nodded, clenching his hands in his shirt.
“I got mixed up with some bad people. People who do a lot of illegal things. People who will kill others to make money,” he told him.
Jisung’s eyes went wide. “W-What?” he stammered, because those words terrified him.
“They wanted me to be a part of it. I had done one job with them to make some money after I was kicked out of my foster parents' house. I needed it. I had nowhere to go, and they took me in. The boss really liked me, and once he believes you’re a valuable asset, it’s hard to get out,” he explained.
Jisung’s mind was spinning. He had no idea. But it was starting to make sense. His sudden change. His dissociation. His disappearance.
“So, what…you’re…part of a gang?” he questioned, and Minho sighed.
“I’m higher up in the ranks now. But back then…if they knew how much I cared about you…who knows what they would have done to you. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you, Jisung,” he admitted.
Jisung’s heart felt heavy.
“So…you just left? Why didn’t you tell me?!” He was yelling again, and Minho gave him a pointed look.
“I was afraid you’d come look for me. I thought…if I hurt you, you could move on easier,” he told him, his fingers digging into his shoulder.
Jisung couldn’t help it. He slapped him across the face. The tears falling, and his chest heaving.
“How could you…How could you fucking do that to me?!”
Minho just closed his eyes, grabbing Jisung’s wrist.
“Jisung, please calm down.” He tried to shush him, but Jisung pushed him in the chest.
“You told me you loved me. You slept with me, and then you left me. The next fucking day you left me!”
The words he told him that night flooded back—how much he loved him, how he would never meet someone else like him, how he would never love someone this much again in his lifetime. It stung him when the next day he left him a note saying he had made a mistake.
“I left because they would have killed you. They would have destroyed anything and anyone I loved just to break me,” he told him.
Jisung shook his head. He pushed him even farther back, because right now he needed to breathe. He needed the space to walk in circles as he tried not to scream.
“I know you’re upset. I know you’ll probably never forgive me. But I didn’t have a choice,” he breathed out, stepping closer, and Jisung couldn’t stop his sobs.
“I hate you. I fucking hate you for making me feel like this. For ten fucking years, I wondered what I did wrong.” He cried into his hands, shivering when Minho wrapped his arms around his waist.
“It was never you, Jisung. It was me. This is all my fault,” he whispered to him.
Jisung finally broke, wrapping his arms around his neck, tugging him so close he thought he might snap it.
He never thought he would feel this again. The touch of him. The feel of his hands.
Jisung cried into his shoulder, and he couldn’t tell how long he was pressed to him. Minho let him cry, soothing his hands over his back.
A knock on the door startled him, and Minho just smiled.
“It’s just Hyunjin. I met him around the same time I joined the organization. He’s a really good friend of mine. He’s keeping a lookout,” he said.
Jisung sniffled as Minho ran his fingers through his hair.
“Jisung, I’m so sorry. For everything,” he told him, his voice sounding final, and Jisung felt his heart drop.
“No. No, you can’t go. Please. Please don’t leave,” he begged, but Minho shook his head.
“I’m not risking you getting hurt. It’s not safe for you. I want you to live your life happily, okay? Chan will take good care of you, and I’m sure he’s waiting for you at home,” he said.
That made Jisung look at him skeptically.
“How do you know we live together?” he asked.
Minho blushed slightly, but before he could deflect, Jisung asked him again.
“How do you know that?” he hissed.
Minho sighed. “I know you thought I was gone…but I never left you,” he admitted, and Jisung’s heart stuttered in his chest.
“What do you mean by that exactly?” he questioned again, and Minho closed his eyes with a soft sigh.
“I had to watch you…to make sure you were safe.”
Jisung’s breath hitched. The thought of him being there the whole time was enough to make his heart snap in half.
“You were watching me…?” He breathed out in disbelief, and Minho nodded carefully. He couldn’t believe that he had been around…all this time.
“It was a comfort to me too, to know you were safe…and loved,” he told him, the last part making Jisung glare at him.
“Nothing is going on between Chan and me, if that’s what you’re trying to imply here,” he snapped.
Minho smiled softly. “He loves you. He always did.”
Jisung was getting pissed again, because Minho had no right.
“I don’t feel that way for him. I loved you. I love you.” He cried, and Minho shook his head.
“He can give you what I never could.”
“You’re wrong! I don’t…I don’t want him like that.”
“Jisung, you need to forget about me,” he said sadly.
Jisung just pulled him closer, because he could feel him trying to end this. He could feel him getting farther away. He wasn’t ready to let go again.
“No, please…I can’t.”
Jisung leaned forward, his lips hovering over his, the feel of his breath on his face sending him back in time to that night.
When he kissed him softly at first, and then slammed their lips together.
When they admitted they both liked each other.
When Minho said he was beautiful.
When Minho told him he loved him.
“I miss you. Please. I’ve missed you for so fucking long. Please don’t leave me again.” A fresh batch of tears fell down his face, and Jisung’s words must have been enough to break him, because he grabbed his hips and pressed his lips to his.
It was quick, but Jisung needed it to be longer. He could barely remember the feel of his mouth on his from all those years ago. And he needed more of it.
“Baby,” Minho whispered against his lips, Jisung's heart shattering. The memories flooded his mind.
“Minho,” he murmured, and before he could attach to him again, someone entered the room.
“Minho. We have to go. Now.”
Minho looked so distraught that it pained him.
Hyunjin g;anced at them with a sorrowful look. He was pretty, his lips full with dark brown eyes. His hairstyle was similar to Minho’s. But he looked younger. Before Jisung could protest, Minho was pushing him back.
“No. No, please. Don’t go. Don’t fucking go.”
Hyunjin knelt to the ground, grabbing something from his bag.
“I know you don’t want to use it, but he’s not going to listen,” Hyunjin said, like Jisung wasn’t even in the room.
Minho just sighed. “I know.”
“It’s safer for him this way. That way, he won’t follow us.” He zipped up his bag, and when he stood, Jisung could see him hiding something in his shirt sleeve.
“What are you talking about?” Jisung asked nervously.
Minho grabbed his chin, and he melted when he pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
“Han Jisung. I love you so much more than you even know,” he whispered.
Jisung shook his head.
“Minho don’t—”
His words were cut off as Hyunjin grabbed his neck, and he could feel a harsh pinch and some pressure.
“Hey, shh, you’re okay.” Minho clutched him as he tried to flail away.
“W-What…What was that?” he panicked, slapping his hand to his neck.
“I need you to sleep a bit for me, Jisung. When you wake up, I need you to go back home. Forget me, and go back to Chan, okay? Promise me.”
Jisung could feel his mind slipping, and his consciousness fleeting. His body felt weak, and before he could say anything else, everything went black.