Chapter Text
Minho had met him running through the campus to get to his next class, his hands clutching to his bag that is now hitting the side of his legs with every new step. No, He hadn’t just bumped into the guy. No, that would be too easy. He had collided with him, flattened him, taken him down like they were in the middle of a sports field and not a university hallway. He just ran right at him.
And the worst part? The guy had seen him coming .
Minho knew it. Their eyes had met for a full second before impact. Long enough for any normal person to sidestep, to move out of the way, to do anything but stand there like a deer in headlights. But the boy hadn’t moved an inch.
When Minho’s body crashed into him making both of them fall onto the floor, his body weight crushing the boy under him he didn’t even wince. Not a single sound of pain. Just a face fully shocked, eyebrows going up, mouth falling open.
The boy had big brown eyes, cheeks full, tiny lips somewhat chapped from the chilling air outside. Honey colored dyed hair that fell on top of his eyes, a tiny mole on his left cheek.
‘’Holy…’’ Minho mutters unknowingly.
‘’Shit? Crap?’’ the boy asks, cocking an eyebrow where he lays. ‘’Fuck? Hell?’’
‘’Yeah, one of those. I’m sorry, are you okay?’’ Minho says apologetically.
‘’I could be better, If maybe you moved.’’ the boy says now groaning.
‘’Right, oh my… Sorry.’’ Minho says, pulling himself off of the boy. ‘’Sorry.’’
‘’That’s way too many sorries. I’m okay.’’ the boy utters.
Minho scrambles to his feet, offering a hesitant hand to the boy still sprawled on the ground. The boy takes it, his grip cold as the winter air outside, and allows Minho to pull him up.
Now standing, Minho gets a better look at him. The boy is shorter, maybe by an inch or two, and despite just being flattened to the school corridor he manages to look effortlessly calm and collected. His hoodie slightly rumpled from the fall, he dusts himself off.
"Okay, so," the boy starts, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Either you’re late for something, or you just enjoy tackling strangers for sport. Which is it?"
Minho feels his face heat up. "Uh, first one. Definitely the first one. I’m really sorry."
The boy smirks. "We’re good stranger. Stop apologizing." the boy teases, his voice laced with something both amused and dangerous in a way Minho didn’t yet know how to handle.
Minho opens his mouth to respond, maybe explain himself further, maybe apologize again, but the clock at the wall behind the boy hitting the quarter past has him jolting. He was so late.
"Shit," Minho mutters, glancing over his shoulder. "I have to— I’M REALLY SORRY."
Minho hears a faint chuckle behind him as he starts running once again. And for some reason, even as he ran, he couldn’t shake the image of honey-colored hair and big brown eyes staring up at him in shock.
Minho could not make it to class, even against his best efforts. When he opened the door to his lecture the professor pointed towards the clock and reminded him of the fifteen minute rule.
He lets out a pained groan and turns around, closing the door behind him. His heart was still racing, not just from running, but from him .
The boy with honey-colored hair.
Minho finds himself walking back outside while completely zoning out, not even caring enough about the class he just missed because his mind was now polluted with the boy.
Who just lets themselves get tackled like that? And then laughs about it? Like it was the most entertaining thing to ever happen to him. He replays the moment again, the way the boy’s lips had curled into a smirk, the teasing lilt in his voice. We’re good, stranger.
It was embarrassing. He had completely flattened a guy and barely managed to form a coherent apology. Or at least a good one.
But, at the same time… the interaction stuck with him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. It stuck with him so much that he didn’t even care he was missing the last lecture before exam week where their professor was going to do a quiz from the topics that most definitely would be on the exam.
Minho groans softly as he walks outside, kicking a stray pebble on the floor in frustration as he runs a hand through his hair.
A soft oof and the sound of someone turning around makes Minho snap out of his thoughts.
“Okay you gotta explain what I did to you, stranger. First you tackle me now you stone me?”
Minho freezes in his place.
No way .
He looks up, and there he is… Honey-colored hair, brown eyes, same damn smirk.
Minho feels his soul leave his body.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes widening in horror. Minho’s brain short-circuits for a second too long. “I— No— That was an accident! I swear!" He gestures at the pebble like it had betrayed him. "I didn’t even see you there!”
‘’Ouch, now I’m not even interesting enough for you to notice me. That hurts more than the tackle or the rock.’’ the boy says, grabbing at his heart dramatically.
Minho groans, already feeling the warmth creeping up his neck.‘’I— No! Oh God… I’m sorry.’’ Minho says with a pout.
‘’Aren’t you supposed to be in class? Didn’t you tackle me just to get there?’’ The boy asks amused.
“Actually,” Minho exhales, rubbing a hand down his face, “I’m not in class because I tackled you. Fifteen-minute rule. ”
‘’Ugh, must suck. Wanting to be at a class so badly you would commit a crime against a complete stranger.’’ the boy chuckles.
‘’Crime?’’ Minho scoffs.
“I was flattened. That’s gotta be at least 3rd degree assault , ” the boy quips.
‘’I— Hey! If you had moved like any normal person would, I wouldn’t be here.’’ Minho says, scrunching his face up in annoyance.
The boy gasps, clutching at his chest again as if Minho had just delivered a fatal wound. “Wow. Victim blaming? Unbelievable. You could get cancelled for that.”
Minho rolls his eyes. “You saw me running toward you. Why didn’t you move?”
The boy grins. “I was curious. Wanted to see if you’d actually run into me.”
Minho’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.” The boy rocks back on his heels, clearly enjoying Minho’s growing frustration. “Honestly, I was expecting you to stop at the last minute. Maybe swerve. But nope. You committed. Gotta respect it.”
Minho crosses his arms, leveling him with a glare. “Right. Well, next time do me a favor and move. So that I can make it to the most important class of the semester.”
The boy hums, tilting his head as if considering it. “Mmm, so you plan on having a next time? What should I prepare myself for? A punch? A slap? A kick?’’
Minho groans. Why was this guy like this? “I was thinking of launching you into orbit, actually,” he deadpans.
The boy laughs, an actual, bright laugh that Minho really didn’t need to find as nice as he did. ‘’Okay but come on, admit it. This—’’ he gestures between himself and Minho. ‘’This is way more fun than whatever the most important class of the semester was going to be like.’’
Minho gives the boy a dead stare as he keeps a smile on his face. It was impossible not to smile looking at his smiling face… He throws his head back slightly with a smile. ‘’Yeah— Yeah. Whatever… I’ll give it to you.’’
‘’So stranger, when will you give me your name? Should I keep calling you stranger?’’ the boy asks, cocking an eyebrow as he starts walking.
Minho looks after him watching him leave with his heart pounding on his chest for some unknown reason. The boy looks back at Minho over his shoulder and he scowls. ‘’What are you doing?’’
‘’Wh— What do you mean?’’ Minho asks hesitantly.
‘’Why are you standing there? Walk with me.’’ the boy says, shaking his head like the answer was so obvious.
‘’Oh—’’ Minho quickly starts walking, catching up to him. They start walking side by side, the chilly air biting at Minho’s skin, but for some reason, he barely notices the cold cutting through his skin.
His mind was too preoccupied with the fact that he was still here, still talking to this guy he didn’t even know the name of, yet somehow couldn’t seem to shake.
"So?" the boy nudges him lightly with his elbow. "Are you gonna tell me your name, or?"
"...Minho."
The boy grins like he had just won something. "Minho," he repeats, like he was testing it out. Then, he nods, satisfied. "Nice."
Minho scoffs, shaking his head, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. His name in the boy’s raspy voice sounded like it was the best thing he has heard all his life. "Right. Well, since we’re sharing, what’s—" He stops mid-sentence.
Because the boy was already grinning at him, head tilted in amusement.
Minho narrows his eyes. "You’re not gonna tell me yours, are you?"
"Wow. Look at you catching on so fast. I like you, you’re smart…" the boy teases, nudging him again.
Minho groans. "And you’re stupid…"
"I think you’ll survive," the boy says lightly. "Isn’t this fun?"
Minho rolls his eyes. "Yeah, super fun. Love not knowing what to call the guy who keeps crashing my life."
The boy chuckles softly. "Crashing your life? I can disappear just as quickly as I make my way into it."
‘’Huh?’’
‘’Maybe I just want to see how you’d call me without a proper name.’’ And before Minho could respond, the boy abruptly takes a turn, walking backwards down another path, his eyes still locked on Minho leaving him at the crossroads. ‘’I’ve got places to be Minho , goodbye.’’
‘’Oh— Uh— Goodbye,uh— honey?’’ Minho says in a panicked voice, holding his hand up in a wave but then scrunching his face at the fact that he called him honey.
The boy looks at him stunned for a second but starts laughing immediately. ‘’I like it!’’ he says, turning around now facing away from Minho.
Minho stands frozen at the crossroads, watching as Honey —because apparently, that was what he was calling him now—disappears into the distance, his laugh still ringing in Minho’s ears.
What. The. Hell.
Minho groans, dragging a hand down his face. Honey? That was the best his brain could come up with? The embarrassment hit him full force, and he wanted to rewind time just to smack himself in the face before he could say something so unbelievably stupid.
And yet.
The image of his amused expression, the way his eyes lit up at the nickname, played in Minho’s mind on repeat. He had liked it.
Minho exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before turning in the opposite direction.
His class was already a lost cause—might as well get some coffee before heading back to his flat in the city. He needs a moment to breathe, to process, to not think about a stranger with honey-colored hair and a laugh that made Minho’s heart do things he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Too bad that seemed impossible.
Week Later
Minho had just begun to doze off when an all-too-familiar yet not-so-familiar voice jolted him awake. It was the voice that rang in his head for the past week, but hadn't actually heard.
‘’So, since the exam weeks are over, do you want to hang out?’’ the familiar face with chubby cheeks says as he sits down next to Minho on one of the picnic benches he was laying down at.
Minho startles upright, blinking against the sunlight as he turns toward the unexpected visitor.
His mouth parts slightly in disbelief and he narrows his eyes at his face.‘’I haven’t seen you in a week… I thought— I thought I imagined your existence.’’ Minho says in an unimpressed voice.
The boy chuckles, utterly unbothered. ‘’Told you I had places to be, didn’t I?’’
‘’For a whole week?’’ Minho asks in sheer shock.
‘’Nope. I was around, I just— I didn’t want to bother you during your exam week.’’ the boy says, shrugging his shoulders.
‘’Aww, how thoughtful of you honey. ’’ Minho says with a smirk pulling at his lips, bringing his hand up to ruffle his hair.
The boy flinches backwards, closing his eyes, holding Minho’s arm in the air. It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t teasing. For a split second, there was something else entirely in his expression. Something sharp and guarded. Then, just as quickly, the boy smiles, letting go of Minho’s wrist like nothing happened.
‘’You know the previous two incidents where I accidentally hurt you were actual accidents right? I’m not making a habit out of hurting you’’ Minho says with a cocked eyebrow and an awkward chuckle.
‘’Yeah, I— Can’t be too careful with you, right?’’ the boy says with a warm smile that reaches all the way up to his eyes. Minho gives him a questioning glare but the boy starts speaking instantly. ‘’Do you want to hang out or not? Where do you live?’’
Minho scoffs, crossing his arms. ‘’Ah absolutely not. I don’t even know your name and you expect me to give you my address?’’ Minho says with an eyebrow cocked.
Who asks where someone lives without even asking them for their phone number? Without really getting to know them?
The boy just lets out a bright laugh. ‘’Ah but Minho, I really really like it when you call me honey.’’
Minho rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch into a playful smirk. ‘’I can keep calling you honey if you want it that badly, just tell me your name you creep.’’
‘’Hmm, If I tell you my name would you be more inclined take me to your house?’’ the boy says with a heartwarming smile.
‘’I might be. Why do you want to go to my place so badly? You don’t even know me, I could be a murderer.’’ Minho asks with a cocked eyebrow.
The fact of the matter is, Minho didn’t know him either. But for some unknown reason the boy sitting next to him just makes him want to open the doors of his house. It was borderline idiotic of him to do so. But still…
‘’I could be a murderer too.’’ he says deadpanning.
Minho stares at him, then slowly looks him up and down, unimpressed. ‘’Yeah… Right. What a threat you are. You don’t even move out of the way when someone’s running full speed at you. If you tried to murder me, you’d end up skewering yourself on your own knife.’’
He lets out an adorable giggle that surely would play around in Minho’s brain for the rest of the week, if not forever. ‘’I’ll take my chances. Name’s Jisung.’’ the boy says as he hesitantly extends his hand initiating a handshake.
Minho blinks, the name settling in his mind like it belonged there all along. Jisung.
It felt strange finally knowing it. Giving a name to the boy who was occupying his brain for the past week.
Jisung wiggles his fingers. “You gonna leave me hanging, or…?”
Minho hesitates for a fraction of a second before clasping Jisung’s hand hanging in the air waiting for Minho’s handshake. His grip was freezing cold but steady, grounding in a way Minho didn’t expect out of him.
“Minho,” he says absentmindedly.
Jisung’s lips curl into something softer than a smirk this time. “Yeah. I know that already. You’re really ditzy.”
‘’Ditzy?!’’ Minho scowls at the boy.
‘’Okay, okay. I’m sorry.’’ Jisung chuckles softly. ‘’Now, Minho, will you let go of my hand?’’
‘’Oh— Oh, I’m sorry.’’ Minho says in realization as he lets his hand go and awkwardly starts cracking his knuckles. ‘’Your hands are so cold.’’
Jisung shrugs, rubbing his hands together briefly before stuffing them into the pocket of his hoodie. “It’s winter,” he says simply, as if that explains anything.
Minho frowns, watching the way Jisung curls into himself just slightly. “Do you not have gloves? Or a winter coat for that matter.”
Jisung huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I do. But winter jackets are always too big and stuffy. It feels a little claustrophobic.”
Minho scoffs. “You’ll freeze. Here—” Minho pulls one of his gloves off his hand and extends it to the boy. ‘’You can wear one of mine, that way at least one of your hands will be warm.’’
Jisung’s eyes flicker down to the glove Minho was holding in the air in between them. He was looking at it like it was the weirdest object he has seen in his lifetime. His lips parted the same way they did when Minho had slammed into him that day, eyebrows going up in shock once again. Then he gives a small smile hesitantly taking the glove and putting it on, on his right hand as he gets up from his place.
‘’Come on, I can’t wait to be murdered by you stranger.’’ he says with a soft smile as he holds his left hand out for Minho. Minho gives him a questioning look.
Is he really asking me to hold his hand?
‘’Well this way, you have the left hand inside the glove, I have my right hand. Your right hand can warm up my left. You wouldn’t want me to freeze would you?’’ He asks cockily with an eyebrow raised.
Minho scoffs with a smile. ‘’How could I?’’ Minho says, holding his outstretched hand as he gets up from his place. Jisung’s fingers twitch slightly around Minho’s hand before coming into a comfortable grip, the cold of his skin already pressing against the warmth of Minho’s own. He stuffs their hands inside his pocket as they start walking.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
‘’Are we there yet?’’ Jisung whines tugging at Minho’s hand like their destination was his responsibility.
‘’No, and if you tug at me one more time, I’m leaving you here stranded.’’ Minho says half-annoyed. Jisung tugs at his hand as soon as Minho’s sentence finishes.
Minho’s eyes flick to him, unimpressed. "Feeling daring, are we?" He loosens his grip like he was about to let go, but Jisung quickly tightens his hold, locking their fingers together.
"Sorry, sorry," Jisung says unbothered, his grin gave away how not sorry he was.
‘’We’re here.’’ Minho stops and points at the apartment building he lives in, taking out his keys from his pocket.
‘’Ooh, It’s a tall building.’’ Jisung says quietly, letting go of his hand, tilting his head up to take in the sight.
‘’Yeah, don’t worry. I live on the second floor. Not the biggest fan of heights.’’ He winces slightly at the thought, pushing the door open and holding it for Jisung. Jisung ducks slightly and runs under Minho’s arm that is holding the door. Minho follows him behind, as they start climbing the stairs.
‘’How do you afford your own place?’’ Jisung asks as he climbs the stairs with careful steps, holding onto the railings.
‘’I have a scholarship and I work part-time.’’ Minho answers. ‘’Where do you stay?’’
‘’Ah, my parents live close by. Unfortunately.’’ Jisung answers, stopping at the second floor. He waves his pointer finger in between the two apartment doors facing each other in a silent question.
Minho nods his head to the right and opens the door for the boy.
‘’You go ahead, make yourself comfortable. I need to check on granny.’’ Minho says with a sigh.
‘’You live across from your granny?’’ Jisung asks as he takes his shoes off looking at Minho.
"Not mine. Just a granny," Minho says, ringing the elderly woman’s doorbell while motioning for Jisung to head inside. "Her grandsons asked me to check in on her, so I do."
Jisung hums in understanding. Then, with an exaggerated nod, he steps inside Minho’s apartment and disappears from sight.
After a riveting (not at all) conversation with the granny about her granddaughter marrying someone in Scotland and abandoning this beautiful land, Minho finally made his way back into his apartment.
Jisung was sprawled on the floor of the living room, giggling to himself. Or rather, giggling at the sight of Doongie making himself comfortable on Jisung’s tummy, kneading at his sweater like it was the softest bed he’d ever found.
Minho raises an eyebrow. ‘’Wow. That’s the fastest Doongie decided someone’s tummy needs to be his new cat bed replacement.’’ Minho says taking off his shoes and coming to the living room sitting on the carpet next to where Jisung has laid on the floor.
‘’I am honored. I might cry.’’ Jisung says, voice filled with faux sentimentality as he runs gentle fingers through Doongie’s fur. The cat purred in response, already halfway to dreamland.
Jisung hums, eyes flicking to the shelf on the wall. ‘’What’s the trophies are for?’’ Jisung asks, pointing towards the shelf.
Minho follows his gaze though he really doesn’t need to. He knows what the boy is referring to. ‘’I used to dance. All through middle-school until the last year of highschool.’’ Minho says, shrugging while joining in on patting Doongie’s back.
‘’Wow. That’s cool. Did you stop?’’ Jisung asks, turning his head towards Minho with a cocked eyebrow.
‘’Yeah. I needed to study.’’ Minho says, pressing his lips into a thin line.
‘’That sucks. What do you major now?’’ Jisung asks.
‘’Psych.’’ Minho answers swiftly and very much unenthusiastically.
Jisung blinks. "Well… that’s cool too. Just—" he pauses, then tilts his head, "judging by your lack of enthusiasm, I’m guessing you would’ve preferred to keep dancing?"
‘’It's complicated. It’s better this way. It’s harder to make a living out of art.’’ Minho says biting on his lips.
Jisung hums. "Is that what you think, or what your parents think?" He leans down to press a dramatic smooches to Doongie’s forehead. Minho slowly lays down on the floor next to Jisung.
‘’Bit of both. Like I said. Complicated. What about you? You’re not very enthusiastic about studying as far as I’ve seen.’’ Minho quips and Jisung’s lips grow tight around his smile as he laughs.
‘’I’m afraid we’re in a similar predicament stranger. I wanted to do something else but I got stuck with medicine.’’ Jisung says with a smile.
Minho blinks, propping himself up on his elbow. "How does one just get stuck with medicine? You must be smart smart." He sighs, flopping onto his back. "Do you smoke, doc?"
Jisung holds his hands up to Minho’s face. Minho looks at him curious. ‘’Is this something suggestive?’’
‘’No, you can always tell if someone smokes or not by their fingernails.’’ Jisung says with an eye roll and grabs Minho’s hand from the floor and lifts it up. "Mmm. Yep. You smoke. Smoking kills, you know."
‘’You don’t need my nails to know I smoke. You could’ve inferred it from me asking you out of nowhere.’’ Minho says, lifting himself up mildly, leaning towards the coffee table and taking the ashtray next to him. ‘’Or from the ashtray, or probably the lingering stench around the apartment.’’
Minho takes out the pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jeans and pulls one out putting it on his lips but stops just before lighting it up. ‘’Do you mind?’’
Instead of answering Jisung lifts his hand up towards Minho holding out his index and middle finger up, silently asking him to give him one as well. Minho arches an eyebrow but doesn't question it.
He plucks the cigarette from his own lips and places it directly between Jisung’s instead. The boy stills for a second, pink dusting his cheeks before Minho grabs another one for himself.
At the sound of the lighter flicking, Doongie suddenly perks up, jumping off Jisung’s stomach, and trotting off to the kitchen, where he promptly began aggressively munching on food.
Minho barely had time to register that before Jisung leaned in.
Close.
So close that their cigarettes nearly touched.
Jisung tilts his chin up, catching Minho’s gaze as he brings his cigarette to the same flame. His eyes locked onto Minho’s—his gaze deep, steady, and so intense that for a brief moment, Minho forgot to breathe.
Jisung pulls back first, exhaling smoke as he flops onto the floor again, his expression somewhat smug.
Minho blinks a few times, his own cigarette forgotten between his fingers. Only when the silence stretches for a beat too long does he remember to inhale.
He takes a slow drag, letting the smoke curl from his lips before glancing down at Jisung, who was still lying flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling with a cigarette resting between his fingers.
Jisung, now lying back on the floor again, takes a long drag from his own cigarette before tilting his head slightly to glance at Minho.
His expression is unreadable, but there’s something almost lazy in the way his lips part to release the smoke, something confident in the way he holds himself, stretched out like he belongs here.
Like Minho almost didn’t need to tell him to make himself comfortable, like this was where he needed to be all the time. It’s silly. It’s a silly thought.
‘’Aren’t you supposed to be all about staying alive and being healthy.’’ Minho muses, tapping the ash to the ashtray next to him but then bringing it in between them.
Jisung snorts, letting his head loll to the side. ‘’Who says I want to stay alive?’’ His gaze flickering toward Minho, his eyes hazy with something unreadable.
Minho watches Jisung carefully, the boy’s words lingering in the air like the smoke between them. There’s that teasing lilt, sure, but something about the way he says it—the way his eyes flicker, dim for just a second—makes Minho uneasy. It’s subtle. Barely there. But it’s enough.
Minho takes another slow drag, exhaling as he tilts his head toward Jisung. ‘’You say that like you mean it.’’
Jisung hums, rolling onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. He taps his ash into the ashtray. Then, just brings the cigarette back to his lips, inhaling deeply. His gaze flickers across Minho’s face, thoughtful, before he exhales the smoke directly at Minho’s face.
‘’What if I do?’’ he asks, voice light, too light. Like it doesn’t really matter.
Minho rolls onto his side facing towards him, propping his head up with his hand in a similar fashion. He tilts his head slightly and squints his eyes at the boy studying his face.
‘’Hm. Isn’t that a little too honest, honey.’’ Minho says with an amused tone taking a drag out of his cigarette.
‘’What if it is? You make me want to be honest.’’ Jisung says his voice is soft and vulnerable.
‘’You don’t even know me.’’ Minho says letting the smoke out slowly towards his face. Jisung’s eyes flutter and he opens his eyes giving Minho deer in headlights look. ‘’I still might murder you.’’
‘’I told you, I’ll take my chances.’’ Jisung says as takes a short drag out the cigarette and lets it out quickly. He bites down on his own lips as he taps his ash into the ashtray.
Minho exhales slowly, watching the way Jisung’s teeth press into his lower lip, the way his fingers tap idly against the cigarette like he’s grounding himself. The boy’s words echo in his head. You make me want to be honest. It’s the kind of thing people say when they don’t have anything to lose. Or when they wish they had more to hold onto. Way more to hold on to.
Minho hums, flicking the ash from his cigarette into the tray before leaning in just slightly. ‘’You’re weird, you know that?’’ His voice is quieter now, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile.
Jisung grins, but it’s softer than before, less of a smirk and more like he’s tucking something away. ‘’Yeah, I’ve been told.’’
‘’So what is it, then?’’ he asks, voice casual, but his fingers tighten around his cigarette. ‘’You actually don’t want to be alive?’’
Jisung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes another long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a beat before letting it spill past his lips. ‘’Dunno,’’ he says eventually, voice just above a whisper. ‘’Guess it depends on the day. Right now, I’d rather be alive.’’
Minho nods with a knowing smile, his eyes locking in with Jisung’s.‘’Good. Let’s keep it that way. I don’t want the police at my door questioning me about the death of a boy I barely know.’’
"So what's your deal?" Jisung asks, eyeing Minho with a raised eyebrow. "You're pretty lonely, aren't you? I haven’t seen you with any friends."
Minho smirks, glancing up at him. "You’ve been keeping track of me?"
"I— I mean... I—" Jisung stumbles, clearly caught off guard.
Minho leans forward with a teasing grin. "Have you been stalking me?"
"No! Just answer my question, don’t deflect," Jisung fires back, rolling his eyes.
Minho shrugs nonchalantly, his smile never fading. "Well somewhere down the line I may have burned a few bridges accidentally but I have friends. It’s just been a busy week. I could introduce you to them, if you’d like. Then you wouldn’t be so lonely and want to die."
Jisung scoffs, dismissing the suggestion. "I have friends of my own. I’m not lonely."
He flicks his cigarette out, standing up and stretching, ready to leave the conversation behind. Minho, suddenly feeling like he’s stepped too far, sits up and quickly puts out his own cigarette. "Wow, okay. I’m really sorry. You don’t need to go."
Jisung lets out a small chuckle as he heads toward the hallway that leads to the rest of the house. "I’m gonna take a piss. Stop apologizing to me!"
‘’Yeah, sorry. Third door on the left!’’ Minho says wincing at his place as he watches the boy go off to the bathroom. Jisung groans in agony as he enters.
Minho sits down on the couch, his mind racing through the last few exchanges. Jisung’s words linger— I have friends, I’m not lonely —but the way he said it, the way he moved, almost as if trying to convince himself more than Minho, left a strange feeling in Minho’s stomach. Something close to pity.
If Jisung says he has friends he actually might have friends, but there’s something deeper there, something about him that doesn’t quite align with the claim. Maybe he’s the type to feel lonely in a crowd, or maybe he doesn’t believe anyone truly gets him. Or maybe he’s one of those people that would push people off to protect himself. Minho isn’t sure, but he gets the sense that this is a sore spot for Jisung, one that can’t be glossed over too easily.
With a sigh, Minho shifts in his seat, fingers tapping absently on the armrest until he hears a rattling sound. Coming from Minho’s own bedroom. He furrows his eyebrow in confusion as he gets up to check. When he opens the door of his room he sees Jisung sitting on his bed with his electric guitar.
Minho had a roommate for a year and he had left his guitar behind. Minho had kept it in his room for aesthetic purposes. It was a pretty pink color that matched Minho’s soft decorations around his room. The untouched guitar was now being played by Jisung.
Jisung hums to himself with a scowl as he tunes the guitar, but when Minho coughs to get his attention Jisung jumps in his place.
‘’Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I couldn’t resist. I’m sorry. I swear I’m not a stalker!’’ Jisung lets out stumbling over his words.
‘’What did you say you wanted to do instead of med school?’’ Minho asks with a cocked eyebrow.
‘’I never said it.’’ Jisung says with a grin. ‘’It’s a shame to let this sit out though.’’
‘’I’m sorry I don’t have an amp.’’ Minho says softly.
Jisung lets out a little laugh. ‘’You’re the worst rhythm guitar owner.’’
‘’I thought it was a lead guitar. It wasn’t mine. My old roommate left it. He’s worse.’’ Minho says with a chuckle.
‘’Oh.’’ Jisung says awkwardly looking at Minho. ‘’Okay come sit.’’ Jisung says, patting on the edge of the bed, as if it’s his bed and he’s allowing Minho to simply just sit. At his own bed.
Minho, however, obeys silently and sits at the foot of the bed.
‘’Actually nevermind, get on your knees.’’ Jisung says in a firm tone. Minho’s breath hitches for a second looking at Jisung in confusion and wide eyes.
‘’W– What?’’ he utters.
‘’Get on your knees. Please. Thank you.’’ Jisung says and Minho gives him the same wide eyed look.
‘’Oh god, not in front of me, get on your knees right where you are. Just on the floor.’’ Jisung says with a smile on his face.
‘’Oh.’’ Minho utters while getting on his knees, still very much confused.
‘’Bite.’’ Jisung says.
‘’Okay, now you’re doing it on purpose, I swear.’’ Minho says annoyed. ‘’How— What else does this mean other than the sexual context?’’
‘’I mean bite the headstock,’’ Jisung says impatiently.
Minho closes his eyes in pain for what he’s about to ask. Jisung however beats him to it.
‘’You’re going to ask me what the headstock is… Unbelievable. Truly… Here—’’ Jisung says, tapping the end of the guitar with his finger. Minho leans in with an ashamed look on his face and bites softly on the headstock .
He should’ve thought twice before putting a guitar in his room for aesthetic purposes. He should’ve guessed he would one day bring someone home who can play the guitar.
He’s kneeling awkwardly on the floor, mouth holding the guitar’s headstock, completely still as Jisung strums. The vibrations hum through his teeth, through his core.
Jisung watches Minho with a slight grin, clearly enjoying the surprise that’s flickering across Minho’s face. The amused smile lingers, but there’s something else there too, something quieter, like he’s aware of how vulnerable this moment feels. Minho can feel it—a thin thread connecting them through the music, through the strange, intimate silence between each strum.
Minho’s breath catches for a moment as he watches Jisung’s fingers move deftly over the guitar, creating sounds that feel more tangible than his past failed attempts at making the guitar sing in his own amateur hands. The sound, the vibrations, the sensation—they’re all so much more than what he expected.
When the music fades, Minho pulls the guitar away from his mouth, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and confusion. He sits down still in his knelt position.
"That’s..." Minho begins, unsure of how to put the overwhelming sense of amazement into words, "That’s so cool actually. You’d certainly be a better father to the guitar than me."
‘’I’m experimental with instruments.’’ Jisung says with a shrug and a wide smile as he gets up to put the guitar back to its place where it will surely sit and look pretty and not do what it did just seconds ago.
He sits back down on the bed but right in front of Minho where he was still on his knees. Minho looks up at him and Jisung looks down with a soft smile and pats Minho’s head softly. Minho’s heart starts racing so fast that he has to look down for a second to collect himself, red flush coming across his face. He looks up once again and sees a grin across his face.
It’s one he has seen before and it takes a second before he understands it.
Minho tilts his head in an annoyed smile. ‘’Was the biting really necessary?’’
Jisung laughs in amusement ‘’Wow. Look at you catching on— well not so fast this time.’’
Minho’s shoulders slump down on themselves. ‘’Why?’’ he whines.
‘’Just cause.’’ Jisung shrugs. ‘’I wanted to see you on your knees biting down on something. You take instructions well.’’
Minho gasps in disbelief. ‘’Yeah?’’ Minho says getting up on his knees from the seated position. ‘’I can stay on my knees and bite down on something other than the guitar you asshole.’’
He opens his mouth and moves towards the boy’s crotch in a threatening manner. Minho looks up in shock when Jisung doesn’t move an inch and looks down with a cocked eyebrow.
‘’No, you wouldn’t.’’ Jisung says, putting his hand on Minho’s hair and ruffling it. He then brings his hand under Minho’s chin and tilts his head up in a force that Minho feels a little weak on his knees now looking at Jisung in shock.
‘’You have the prettiest face I have seen on anyone.’’ Jisung says looking a bit dazed if anything. Minho feels breathing getting harder and harder the way Jisung was looking at him. Like he has meant every word of what he had said. Minho opens his mouth slightly and lets out a staggered breath and then chuckles softly at the compliment, the blood rushing to his face. He cocks his head back and he gets up from the floor with another soft chuckle and sits next to him on the bed.
‘’You liked that?’’ Jisung asks, looking at Minho with a smile.
‘’Who doesn’t like it when they’re complimented?’’ Minho says, scrunching his face a little.
Jisung points to himself. ‘’I wouldn’t say, I enjoy it necessarily.’’
Minho cocks his eyebrow with an unbelieving look on his face.‘’So if I complimented you, you wouldn’t like it?’’
‘’I wouldn’t. Are you allowed to diagnose me yet my psychologist?’’ Jisung muses with a smile.
‘’Oh I’m your psychologist now? I thought I was still stranger .’’ Minho says jokingly.
‘’You can be anything you want. Stranger, my murderer, my psychologist, my Minho, ’’ Jisung says with a smirk and an eyebrow raised, throwing himself at Minho’s bed. Minho looks at him stunned for a second.
‘’You’re coming on too strong.’’ Minho says with a chuckle.
‘’Right, what was the nickname you called me with?’’ Jisung says with an amused smile. ‘’Honey?’’
‘’Well that’s because your hair is honey colored, not because you’re my honey .’’ Minho explains with a frown.
‘’Oh… That makes sense.’’ Jisung says with a pout as he closes his eyes. He looks… sad?
‘’Hey, if you— Well, you’re a clingy one aren’t you?’’ Minho says, poking his side to make him look up.
‘’No I’m not.’’ Jisung mumbles with a pout.
‘’Wow you’re practically a huge baby.’’ Minho says laying next to him on the bed.
Jisung glares at Minho through half-lidded eyes, but there's no real heat behind it. "I'm not a baby," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest like he's preparing for some kind of battle. "Can’t you just act like you gave me a cute nickname?"
Minho grins, propping his head up with one hand, elbows digging into the bed. "That’s very desperate of you"
‘’I am not!’’ Jisung argues in a whiny tone. Jisung turns his head away with a dramatic huff, his honey-colored hair falling over his face. He looks more like he's trying to ignore Minho than anything.
Minho, unable to resist, shifts closer, nudging him with his elbow. "Sure, you’re not. Keep telling yourself that, honey "
Jisung snaps his head back, the slight flush creeping up his neck gives him away.
‘’You like that don’t you… You don’t like compliments but you like it when I call you honey? Wow you’re so so so weird. Not you obsessing over the guy you talked to twice.’’ Minho jokes.
‘’You’re evidently much more weird. Not you inviting the guy you talked to twice into your home.’’ Jisung retorts.
‘’To murder.’’ Minho says turning his body to playfully punch at the boy but Jisung winces slightly as Minho’s punch meets his shoulder. In a similar fashion he did when he held Minho's hand in the air when Minho was about to ruffle his hair.
He closes his eyes softly looking like he’s on the verge of sleep. The silence lingers in the air and stretches in the moment. Jisung then turns his head slightly to look at Minho.
‘’I hear you’re quite the player. From the way we met I never would’ve guessed.’’ Jisung says out of nowhere. Minho is so taken aback by the question that he chokes on his own spit, sending him into a coughing fit.
The boy chuckles lightly at Minho’s reaction.
‘’I’m not a player, those are all lies.’’ Minho says half-defensively.
‘’I wouldn't know. I just know you got a reputation. I only heard your name around in the context of sleeping around.’’ Jisung says with a cheeky smile.
‘’That’s slander. I— Is it a crime to have some fun on the first two years of your college life?’’ Minho says, shrugging.
‘’Guess not. I’m not bothered by the rumors. I know people like to talk.’’ Jisung says with a soft smile. Minho nods his head softly in acknowledgement.
Then once again the air fills in with the comfortable silence. This time Minho closes his eyes, the exhaustion of the day oozing out of his body down to his bed.
‘’Would you kiss me?’’ Jisung asks all of a sudden. Minho’s eyes snap open with shock once again.
Jisung’s question hangs in the air, casual in tone but heavy in implication. Minho can only stare at him, the exhaustion in his bones momentarily forgotten. Before Minho can allow his mind to run laps inside he tries to change the topic.
‘’You know you ask really out of pocket questions…’’ Minho mutters, turning his gaze towards the boy now taking in all his features slowly. His hair falling over his big brown eyes looking at Minho in an expectant manner. His cheeks puffed out in awkwardness.
‘’I know.’’ he answers, squinting his eyes for a second but letting them go back to their original round form. ‘’But would you? Would I be one of the people you’d have fun with?’’ He bites down on his lower lip nervously.
Minho exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "That’s—" He stops himself, the words failing before they even reach his lips.
Minho realistically could say yes. There was a time when he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. He did have a life of the party attitude for the longest time. He had his fair share of fun. He was that guy. The guy that entertained every self-indulgent thought that passed by his head. No second thoughts if it meant it would be entertaining.
But this year has been different. Simply just not that fun. Life had settled into something heavier, more real. He didn’t have the energy to chase that kind of fun anymore. Everything was a little bit more serious, everything was a little bit more boring . He had too many responsibilities to entertain a carefree lifestyle. Or maybe… maybe he just didn’t want to anymore. Not after —
But none of those were the real reason he was hesitating with his answer. The real reason is lying next to him, looking at him with something unreadable in his gaze, something uncertain.
Jisung doesn’t ask his questions like someone who’s just flirting for the hell of it. He asks like someone who’s trying to prove something to himself and was way too fearless with them.
Minho hates how much he wants to understand who he really is.
‘’Okay’’ Jisung says softly, nodding his head and turning it back towards the ceiling.
‘’I do somewhat enjoy your company though.’’ Minho says softly, trying to give him a peace of mind.
Jisung scowls in return and sits up on the bed. ‘’Somewhat.’’
Okay, maybe his attempt at consoling him had failed. Minho watches as Jisung pushes himself up from the bed, the warmth between them vanishing like it had never been there.
"Jisung," Minho sighs, propping himself up on his elbows.
‘’Can’t you just—’’ Jisung starts with a scowl and a pout but stops and shakes his head jumping down from the bed. ‘’Nevermind, I’ll leave.’’
Minho blinks, caught off guard. ‘’What are you—’’ Minho gets up from the bed trying to follow Jisung who’s now making his way towards the living room with a pace too quick for Minho’s liking. ‘’Hey— Wait.’’
Jisung stops and pushes his hand inside the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out Minho’s singular glove and throws it towards Minho. Minho catches it in the air with wide eyes.
‘’Okay— You’re being a little too crazy.’’ Minho says with a sigh.
Jisung narrows his eyes and steps closer. Before Minho can react, Jisung slips his hand into Minho’s jeans pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighter.
Minho jerks back. “What the—”
‘’I’m stealing.’’ he says in a very calm manner.
He doesn’t stop Jisung as he places a cigarette between his lips, doesn’t stop him as he slips his shoes on, doesn’t stop him as he flicks the lighter and inhales.
The smoke curls between them as Jisung exhales slowly, then tosses both the lighter and pack at Minho. They hit Minho’s chest, fall to the floor, but Minho doesn’t move.
He just stares at Jisung.
Jisung gives Minho who’s clutching at the glove he has thrown before a glance.
‘’I’m sorry.’’ Minho says softly.
Jisung scoffs and nods softly. ‘’We’re good stranger.’’
Jisung closes the door behind him.
Minho exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he stares at the door like he can somehow make Jisung turn back around. But, of course, he doesn’t. Minho doesn’t even know why he wants him to come back either.
Instead, Minho is left standing there, a cigarette pack and lighter at his feet, a single glove clenched in his hand like some kind of pathetic metaphor he thinks he doesn’t have the knowledge to understand yet.
We’re good.