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The living room was a chaos of crumbs, soda cans, and half-hearted competition. Jisung was sprawled across one end of the couch, controller in hand, socked feet digging into Felix's legs. The TV screen flashed with vibrant colour as their characters zipped across a neon racetrack, but Jisung had mostly given up trying to win.
"I swear, I'm going to be the only one who can't drive," Jisung groaned, flinging his head dramatically over the armrest. "At this rate, I'll be thirty and still taking the bus like a school kid."
Felix snorted from the floor, where he was half-sitting, half-lying with his back propped against the other sofa. "You make it sound like a terminal illness."
"It is," Jisung shot back, eyes wide with mock anguish. "An affliction. A social handicap. I might as well start knitting while I wait for the 325 to roll up fifteen minutes late."
Felix chuckled, not taking his eyes off the screen. "You're being dramatic. Buses are fine. Trains are fine. Walking's good for you."
"Okay, grandad," Jisung muttered, chucking a crisp at him. "Easy for you to say, you've got your brother to cart us around like toddlers."
"Exactly," Felix grinned. "Why learn when I've got a free chauffeur?"
Before Jisung could respond, a new voice cut in, dry, amused, and far too close for comfort.
"I could teach you to drive y'know"
Jisung flinched so hard he nearly dropped his controller. He twisted around and nearly choked.
Minho stood just inside the doorway, towel slung around his neck, his tank top clinging to his chest like a second skin. Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, dark with sweat in places, his arms still glistening slightly from the gym. His hair was damp, pushed off his forehead, jaw tense like he'd just finished a set and hadn't quite come down yet.
Jisung's brain completely short-circuited.
Oh. No. Not fair. Absolutely illegal.
He'd had a thing for Minho since he was sixteen, maybe even before that, if he was being honest with himself. It had started with fleeting glances, a stupid crush formed during awkward sleepovers when Minho would float through the kitchen late at night, shirtless and disinterested. It had only gotten worse over the years. Minho had always had this presence, a kind of sharp, quiet confidence that made Jisung feel both ten years younger and weirdly aware of his own heartbeat.
And now he was standing there, sweaty and gorgeous, offering-
Wait, what?
"You what?" Jisung asked, blinking rapidly.
Minho raised an eyebrow. "Driving lessons. I'll teach you. I'm already sick of being your personal Uber."
"I..." Jisung floundered, clutching at some part of his logic that hadn't melted like microwaved jelly. "I can't afford that. Proper lessons are expensive, aren't they?"
Minho chuckled, deep and careless. "I didn't say you'd pay me. It's payment enough if I never have to drive the pair of you to another 11pm snacks run again."
Felix made a noise of protest from the floor. "Oi, you love those."
"Not at nearly midnight when I've got work the next day," Minho said, rolling his eyes. His gaze flicked back to Jisung. "So? You in?"
Jisung's heart was doing gymnastics. Somewhere in the background, his game character was being flattened on the track by a rolling boulder, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Minho was looking at him. Waiting.
"I... Yeah. Sure. If you're serious."
Minho smirked, turning to head towards the stairs. "First lesson's tomorrow morning then. Try not to kill me."
He disappeared from view, leaving Jisung's mind in chaos in his wake.
Jisung lay back against the couch, dazed.
Felix glanced over and raised an eyebrow. "You good?"
"Totally fine," Jisung said faintly. "Just wondering if it's possible to die from second-hand hotness."
Felix snorted. "Gross. That's my brother."
__________________
A sharp knock rattled his bedroom door, jerking Jisung from the thin veil of sleep he'd barely managed to wrap around himself.
"Get up," came Minho's voice, muffled but unmistakable. "We're leaving in twenty."
Jisung let out a wounded groan and flopped backwards into his pillow like a man sentenced to death. The ceiling stared back at him, indifferent to his suffering.
No. Absolutely not. This isn't happening.
For a good ten seconds, he lay there in limbo, desperately hoping the knock had been a dream, just like everything else from last night. Because that had been a dream, hadn't it? No way Minho, of all people, had offered to give him driving lessons. That was just some sleep-deprived hallucination, conjured by too many sour sweets, not enough hydration, and the cruel tricks of his subconscious.
...Except now Minho was walking away, his footsteps fading down the hallway, and Jisung could hear cupboards opening in the kitchen.
He groaned again, dragging a hand over his face.
"What the hell have I done."
He barely remembered falling asleep, just lying in bed, replaying that moment over and over again: Minho, still glistening from the gym, casually offering to teach him how to drive like it wasn't the most unfairly attractive thing a person could do. His voice had been low, amused, a bit teasing. Like it was nothing. Like Jisung hadn't spent years quietly losing his mind over him.
And now he was expected to concentrate?
To sit behind a steering wheel and operate a moving vehicle with Minho in the passenger seat, casually telling him to check his mirrors while looking like the cover of a fitness magazine?
It's fine. I'll die. We'll crash into a tree, and it'll all be over.
Jisung rolled out of bed with the grace of a damp sock and trudged towards his bag, pulling on the nearest hoodie and pair of joggers that didn't smell like last week. His hair was a mess, eyes still puffy from sleep, but whatever. If he was going to embarrass himself, he might as well commit to the full aesthetic.
As he stumbled out into the hallway, he caught the faint sound of Minho humming from the kitchen, low and tuneless, but weirdly pleasant. Jisung paused for a second outside the door, considering running back to bed and faking a cold. Or death.
Instead, he walked in.
Minho looked up from where he was filling a travel mug with coffee. He was dressed in jeans and a loose grey hoodie this time, hair still damp but neater, face clean and fresh. Unfairly decent for half eight in the morning.
"Morning," Minho said, holding out a second mug. "Thought you might need this."
Jisung took it, blinking. "...Thanks."
He didn't dare ask if this meant the lesson was actually happening. The keys jangling in Minho's hand already told him everything he needed to know.
"Come on," Minho said, heading for the door. "We'll start somewhere quiet. No pressure."
Jisung followed, sipping the coffee with trembling hands and one repeating thought bouncing around his brain like a pinball:
This is fine. Totally fine. Just me, and Minho, and two tonnes of metal. What could possibly go wrong.
______________
The inside of Minho's car smelled faintly of cotton and something warm and woodsy, like cedar or sandalwood, though Jisung couldn't place it exactly.
Minho climbed in, tossing the keys into his palm and catching them smoothly before slotting them into the ignition. He reached for his seatbelt with one hand, tugged it across his chest, and glanced at Jisung without turning his head.
"We'll go to one of the side roads near the park. It's basically empty in the mornings, good place to get a feel for things without panicking about other drivers."
Jisung nodded mutely, not trusting his voice yet.
The car rumbled to life beneath them, smooth and quiet, and Minho pulled away from the kerb like he'd done it a thousand times, because he had. Probably more, in fact. One hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the gearstick, casual and confident, his forearm flexing subtly every time he shifted gears.
Jisung swallowed hard and looked out of the window, pretending to be interested in the rows of familiar houses blurring past. His mind, however, had completely abandoned him.
It's fine. This is normal. He's just driving. People drive all the time. Hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, just like everyone else. You're the weird one for staring.
Still, his eyes kept flicking back.
The way Minho's fingers curled around the gearstick, it shouldn't have been anything. It was just muscle and movement. But it made Jisung's stomach tighten in a way he absolutely did not appreciate this early in the morning.
Even worse was how Minho's gaze moved, sharp and instinctive, a rhythm he probably didn't even think about anymore. Eyes to the wing mirror. Back to the rear view. Then the road ahead. It was fluid, efficient. Like his body knew the car. Like he was a part of it.
Jisung had to bite his inner cheek to stop himself from making some sort of noise. His hoodie felt about three degrees too warm.
Minho caught him looking once, just a brief glance, corner of his mouth twitching. "Nervous already?"
"What? No," Jisung lied badly, yanking his eyes away to focus on the glove compartment like it held the meaning of life.
Minho smirked but said nothing, turning onto a quieter road lined with trees, where the houses were spaced out and the pavement looked barely touched.
They slowed as they reached a small residential street, practically empty save for one distant parked car. The engine dropped to a hum as Minho parked on the side of the road and unbuckled his belt.
"Alright," he said, stretching an arm across to adjust the rear view mirror slightly. "Your turn."
Jisung blinked. "Right now?"
Minho raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "Well, yeah. That is why we're here, unless you just wanted to watch me drive for the next half hour."
Jisung flushed and quickly unclipped his seatbelt, clambering out and circling round the front of the car. He could feel Minho watching him as he slid into the driver's seat.
The steering wheel felt impossibly large under his hands.
This was fine. Totally fine. Just a lesson.
With Minho.
Sitting right next to him.
Jisung shifted awkwardly in the driver's seat, hands resting uselessly on his thighs. Everything suddenly felt far too real. The steering wheel looked bigger from this side. The dashboard had so many buttons. And Minho was right there, casual in the passenger seat, one arm resting along the windowsill, like this was just any other morning.
He gave Jisung a once-over that was half amusement, half expectation. "Right. First things first, before you even think about turning the key, there's a few things you always check."
Jisung nodded mutely, doing his best impression of someone whose brain wasn't currently made of soup.
"Start with the seat," Minho said. "If more than one person uses the car, it's never going to be set exactly right. You need to be able to reach the pedals comfortably, and push them all the way down without straining."
He gestured down. "Try it. You want your leg to be slightly bent when the clutch is all the way down."
Jisung pressed his foot down and immediately realised he was sitting too far back. He reached for the adjustment bar beneath the seat and gave it a tug, wiggling forward with a loud click-click-click.
Minho watched, perfectly composed. "Too close and your shins and ankles will ache like crazy after just a short drive."
"Helpful," Jisung muttered, tapping the clutch again until it felt about right.
"Good," Minho said, nodding. "Next, mirrors. Rear view, then wing mirrors. You need to make sure you've got full visibility before you move. Not after."
Jisung reached up to adjust the rear view mirror, but Minho beat him to it, leaning over slightly to tug it into place with quick precision.
"There. That should be fine."
His arm brushed Jisung's shoulder as he pulled back.
It wasn't a lingering touch. It wasn't even meant to be anything. But Jisung felt it anyway, like static crackling down his skin, and suddenly the air inside the car felt very, very warm.
"Wing mirrors?" Minho prompted, giving him a sideways glance.
"Right. Yeah. Got it."
Jisung reached for the left-hand adjuster and squinted, trying to ignore the way Minho sat perfectly composed next to him, lips slightly parted, eyes lazily tracking his every movement.
Once the mirrors were set, he fumbled for the seatbelt, clicking it into place. It locked with a sharp snap, which somehow made the silence that followed feel heavier.
Minho nodded, tone more serious now. "That's the pre-start check. If the car's been used by someone else, especially if it's not your car, you always do those. Seat. Mirrors. Gets your head in the right space too."
Jisung nodded, fingers twitching slightly on his thighs. He wasn't sure his head could be in the right space when Minho was talking to him in that calm, velvety voice, like some sort of hot, unbothered driving instructor who just happened to be built like he belonged on a fashion billboard.
"Any questions?" Minho asked, leaning back again.
"Um. No." Jisung cleared his throat. "I think I'm good."
"You think?" Minho raised an eyebrow.
"I am good," Jisung corrected quickly, gripping the steering wheel to give his hands something to do. "So what now?"
Minho smirked faintly. "Now you start the car. And try not to kill us."
Jisung muttered something incoherent under his breath and turned the key.
The engine came to life.
Unfortunately, so did the butterflies in his stomach.
The engine hummed beneath them, quiet but undeniably on. Jisung stared down at the gearstick like it might attack him.
"Okay," Minho said, voice calm and steady. "Clutch down, all the way."
Jisung obeyed, pressing his foot to the floor.
"Now first gear."
He slid the gearstick forward. It felt weirdly stiff, more mechanical than he expected, like he was operating something far more serious than a car. Minho's hand hovered near the handbrake but didn't touch it.
"Don't fight it," Minho said, nodding toward the gearstick. "It's not about brute force. If you push it too hard, you'll end up in the wrong gear without realising." He reached across, his fingers briefly brushing Jisung's as he guided his hand to the correct grip. "You want a light but definite touch, like this. Here's how your hand should sit depending on the gear." He moved Jisung's wrist gently, showing him each angle, before letting go. "Alright, your turn."
Jisung mimicked the motion, adjusting his grip with a bit more confidence now.
Minho gave a small nod. "Better. And don't worry about anything above second gear today, we're not going fast enough for that. Just focus on getting moving."
"This next bit's important," he said. "You need to find the bite point. That's when the clutch and the engine start to connect. If you don't get it right, you either stall or bunny-hop down the road like a lunatic."
"Great," Jisung muttered, "no pressure."
Minho smirked. "Foot slowly off the clutch, slowly, until you feel the front of the car dip slightly. That's your bite point."
Jisung nodded, releasing the clutch bit by bit until... There. The nose of the car dipped, and the engine noise shifted just enough to make it feel like the car was holding its breath.
"There," Minho said. "Now hold it."
Jisung did, his whole body suddenly stiff with concentration.
"Good. Now, before we move off, what do you do?"
Jisung blinked. "Er... Seatbelt? Wait, no, we did that already."
Minho gave him a look. "Observations, Sung. You don't just go blindly into the road."
"Right. Yeah." Jisung glanced around, heart thudding. "Mirrors?"
"Mirrors, yep. Centre, then both sides. And don't forget to check your blind spot, over your right shoulder."
Jisung awkwardly craned his neck, peering through the rear side window like he was looking for an ambush.
"There's no one there," he said.
"There will be one day," Minho replied. "You still check every time. It has to be habit."
Jisung nodded. "Okay. And then I just... Go?"
"Almost. If there are other road users, cars, bikes, even pedestrians, you indicate before pulling away. Right signal. Even if it's empty, like now, it's good practice."
Jisung flipped the indicator up. A soft tick-tick filled the silence.
"Now," Minho said, sitting back slightly, "handbrake off, and ease off the clutch while giving it just a little gas."
Jisung took a deep breath, handbrake down, clutch easing up, too fast. The engine spluttered, jerked once, and promptly died.
The car gave a dramatic little shudder and stopped.
There was a beat of silence.
Jisung blinked. "...What?"
"You stalled," Minho said simply, reaching forward to turn the key again, pulling the handbrake back up as the engine sputtered back to life without ceremony.
"I know I stalled, but why? I thought I had the bite point!"
"You did, but you let off the clutch too quickly and didn't give it enough throttle."
Jisung groaned, slumping back against the seat. "This is hell. I'm in hell. And I've dragged you with me."
Minho chuckled under his breath. "Trust me, this isn't even close to hell. You should've seen my friend's first lesson. Apparently he forgot which pedal was which and then hit the windscreen wipers instead of the indicator."
Jisung laughed despite himself, tension easing slightly in his shoulders.
"Alright," Minho said, more gently now. "Let's try again. Clutch in. Find the bite. Take your time."
Jisung nodded, jaw set, eyes fixed forward. This time he was going to do it properly.
Hopefully.
Jisung took a breath, one of those deep, shaky ones that felt like it didn't go quite far enough into his chest, and pressed the clutch in again. He found the bite point more carefully this time, feeling the slight dip of the bonnet, the subtle shift in the engine's tone.
"Good," Minho murmured, eyes on his hands. "Now, handbrake off... Little bit of gas... And ease off the clutch slowly."
Jisung did as instructed, and this time, the car jerked forward, but didn't die. It wobbled, rolled, and then, miraculously, kept moving.
"Yes!" Jisung hissed under his breath, knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Holy... Okay, okay, I'm doing it."
"Bit bumpy," Minho said, mouth twitching, "but you're moving. We'll call that a win."
Jisung didn't respond. His brain was now firing on all cylinders, much like the car. His leg trembled slightly on the clutch, nerves winding his body tight. His eyes flicked from the rear view mirror to the left wing mirror to the road to the right wing mirror and back again like a desperate game of visual ping-pong.
They were barely crawling, five, maybe six miles an hour, but it felt like the whole world was rushing past.
"Alright," Minho said, calm and unbothered. "You're gonna shift into second. Same idea, clutch down, gently, then slide it into gear."
Jisung nodded stiffly, pressing the clutch again with his still-shaky foot and guiding the gearstick down.
When he lifted the clutch, the car gave a bit of a lurch, enough to make his stomach do a loop, but it didn't stall.
"You're fine," Minho said, eyes on the road ahead. "Bit rough, but you got it. Try not to lift the clutch too fast, yeah?"
"Sure," Jisung muttered, feeling like his heart was now beating directly behind his eyes. "Easy for you to say."
Minho gave a soft chuckle but didn't push it. "Eyes on the road. Junction coming up."
Jisung looked ahead, sure enough, the end of the road loomed just a few metres away.
"Start braking now, light pressure. Clutch in as you slow down in case you need to stop for traffic."
Jisung obeyed, foot hovering over the brake and easing into it. The car slowed with a few little bumps along the way, like it was slightly offended at being asked to stop.
"Indicator," Minho reminded.
Jisung flicked it on, feeling another spike of panic in his chest.
"Good. Now watch the kerb. You'll want to start turning the wheel just as the bonnet lines up with the curve of the pavement. Left hand pulls down, right hand feeds it through."
Jisung did as told, slowly, carefully, and to his own amazement, the car turned without clipping the kerb or swinging out into the other lane.
They rolled onto the next stretch of empty residential road, the turn clean.
He exhaled, loud and shaky. "Okay. Okay, that wasn't horrible."
Minho glanced at him with the faintest hint of a smile. "Didn't even hit anything. You're practically a natural."
Jisung snorted, muscles still tense. "You say that, but my leg's shaking like a bloody leaf."
"You'll get used to it."
Jisung wasn't so sure, especially with Minho's voice sitting so warm and close in his ear. But he'd take the win.
The quiet road stretched on ahead, framed by identical rows of semi-detached houses, bins lined up neatly like sentries. Jisung's grip on the steering wheel had loosened slightly, he was no longer white-knuckling it, though his shoulders were still hunched like he was expecting the car to explode at any second.
Minho's voice broke through the silence, calm and measured. "Next junction, you're turning right. Same thing as before, just reversed."
"Reversed," Jisung muttered. "Great. Sounds terrifying."
"You'll live." Minho leaned slightly forward, eyes on the approaching junction. "Start indicating now."
Jisung flicked the indicator on, heart doing its now-familiar thudding in his throat.
"When the front of the car is about a metre from the centre of the side road, that's your turning point," Minho continued. "Not after, otherwise you'll end up too tight on the kerb. Too early and you're halfway into oncoming traffic."
"Comforting."
Minho gave a quiet snort of laughter. "Ease off the gas a bit, good. Clutch in... Now start turning."
Jisung turned the wheel slowly, feeding it through just like Minho had told him. The car dipped slightly as it made the turn, but it stayed neat, just the right distance from the pavement.
He breathed out. "Did I do that?"
Minho nodded. "Still alive, aren't we?"
Jisung managed a small, shaky grin.
They continued on in relative silence for a minute, Jisung glancing between the mirrors with a little more ease now, a little less panic. It still felt strange, unnatural, to be in control of the car, and he never went above 10 miles an hour, but it wasn't quite as terrifying as it had been at the start.
"Alright," Minho said after a moment. "Pull over on the left when it's safe, just past that red car."
Jisung felt his nerves spike again. "Okay... What do I do?"
"Same checks, mirrors first, shoulder checks, then indicate."
Jisung did as told, his hand moving with only minor hesitation this time.
"Now steer gently toward the kerb, not too sharp. Start braking slowly."
The car rolled toward the edge of the road. Jisung guided it into place, heart thudding again as the kerb loomed.
"Straighten the wheel... Good. Now clutch in, brake to stop, yep, there."
The car came to a stop, slightly bumpy but in one piece.
Minho leaned in just a little. "Now, handbrake on first, then gearstick into neutral. Then you can lift off the clutch."
Jisung nodded, following each step exactly. The car gave a little sigh as he finished, like even it was relieved.
Minho sat back. "Not bad."
Jisung blinked, heart racing and staring at the dashboard as if waiting for some official medal to appear. "Did I... Actually do it?"
"You did," Minho said. "Bit wobbly, but no kerbs were harmed. And I still have both legs."
Jisung let his head fall back against the seat with a groan. "This is the most stressful thing I've ever done in my life."
"You're doing fine."
Jisung glanced over at him, just for a second, and immediately regretted it.
Minho was relaxed, calm, one hand draped casually over his leg, the other resting against the door. His expression wasn't smug, not quite. Just watchful. And a little pleased.
God, how is he just... Built like this?
Jisung tore his eyes away, cheeks burning. "So... What now?"
Minho straightened slightly in his seat. "We pull off again. Keep going for a bit."
Jisung made a face. "Seriously?"
"You need more time with the bite point and gear changes," Minho said, already switching back into his low, instructor voice. "We'll just loop around the area a few times. No pressure."
No pressure, he says, like Jisung's brain wasn't still melting from the sight of his forearms alone.
Still, he nodded, clutch in, ignition on, and repeated the process again, this time with slightly less panic. The car juddered but didn't stall, rolling forward with a bit more confidence than before. Minho let out a quiet hum of approval that made something warm spark in Jisung's chest.
They made loop after loop through the quiet residential streets, houses blurring together in soft brick and wooden fence repetition. Jisung fumbled the odd shift, occasionally grinding the gear or letting the clutch out too fast causing the car to judder slightly, but Minho never snapped, never mocked. Just calmly corrected, sometimes with a subtle nudge of his hand guiding Jisung's wrist back into the right position.
Every time Minho leaned closer to point something out, Jisung's brain fizzed like soda. It was almost unfair, the mix of authority in his tone and the patience behind it. Like he'd done this a hundred times, like he knew exactly how to keep control even when Jisung clearly didn't.
Eventually, as they rounded yet another corner and coasted down a familiar road, Minho spoke again.
"Alright, Sung. Pull over up ahead. Just past that lamppost."
Jisung nodded, already scanning his mirrors, indicating out of habit now. He brought the car in gently, better than before, and stopped with only a slight bump.
"Handbrake. Neutral."
He did as told, and then let go of the wheel with a sigh of pure, unfiltered relief. His shoulders slumped.
Minho unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. "Swap seats. I'll take us back."
Jisung blinked. "Wait, that was it?"
"You drove for thirty minutes," Minho said with a small, almost-smile. "Pretty decent for your first time."
Jisung hesitated. "Seriously? I feel like it's been just five minutes."
Minho opened his door, glancing back at him. "Well you know what they say... Time flies when you're having fun."
Jisung scrambled out, trying not to look as proud as he felt. They swapped sides at the pavement, briefly brushing shoulders as they passed, just a moment of contact, but it made his skin prickle.
Back in the passenger seat, he buckled in, the world feeling oddly still after half an hour of controlled panic.
Minho adjusted the seat and mirrors back, then started the car smoothly, checking the mirrors with casual precision.
And Jisung, now free of responsibility, allowed himself a second to just... Look.
Strong hands, that easy confidence, the way Minho's brow creased ever so slightly when he checked his blind spot. It was ridiculous, he knew it was ridiculous, but that didn't stop the way his stomach flipped anyway.
He looked away again, out the window this time.
Maybe next time he'd stall less.
Or maybe not.
_____________
Minho pulled smoothly into the driveway, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearstick. His movements were so fluid, so automatic, it made Jisung feel clumsy just watching him.
How could he make driving look like second nature? Like breathing?
Jisung stared out the window as they rolled to a gentle stop, the engine barely making a sound before Minho cut the ignition. He doesn't even think about it, Jisung thought, chest still a little tight from residual adrenaline. He just... Knows. All of it. Like it's part of him.
They climbed out of the car, and Jisung trailed slightly behind as they made their way up the drive and into the house. His legs felt like jelly, his body heavy in that weird post-stress way, like he'd just finished a full gym session without any of the satisfaction.
The door clicked shut behind them. From the living room came the faint clink of spoon against ceramic.
Felix sat on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, a bowl of colourful cereal in his hands. His hair was sleep-flattened on one side, his oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder. He looked up as they walked in.
"Oii, how'd it go?" he asked, grinning with his mouth half-full.
Minho didn't answer, he just gave a lazy nod toward Felix and wandered towards the Kitchen.
Jisung dropped onto the couch beside Felix with a groan, letting his arms flop dramatically across the armrest. "I'm aching. My legs, my arms, my neck, everything. Holding the clutch at the right point is like some kind of full-body isometric exercise. I didn't realise my calf muscles even existed until today."
Felix snorted into his spoon. "You didn't crash, though, right?"
"Nope. Not once." Jisung tilted his head, pride creeping into his voice despite himself. "I stalled once at the start, but after that I actually drove. For like, thirty minutes. On real roads."
Felix grinned, slurping up the last bit of milk from his bowl. "Watch out, world. You're gonna be the next Charles LeClerc."
Jisung waved him off with a groan. "Oh, sod off. I couldn't even stay in second gear without the car sounding like it was about to choke."
"Still," Felix said, nudging his shoulder, "I'm impressed. Minho doesn't offer to teach just anyone."
At that, Jisung's stomach gave a quiet, inconvenient flutter. He busied himself with adjusting his hoodie sleeve, not quite ready to unpack that particular comment.
"Yeah, well," he muttered. "He probably got sick of being our unpaid chauffeur."
Felix smirked. "Or maybe he just likes your company."
Jisung shot him a look. "Don't."
Felix's grin only widened, maddeningly innocent. "Didn't say anything."
"Exactly. Don't."
Just then, Minho walked into the room, passing Jisung a bottle of water.
"You like the lemon ones, right?" he asked, tone casual, eyes already flicking toward the TV screen.
Jisung blinked, fingers closing around the chilled plastic.
He did like the lemon ones. But... Had he ever told Minho that?
His mouth opened, maybe to ask, maybe just to say thanks... But nothing came out.
From the other end of the couch, Felix squinted over. "Oi. Where's my bottle of water?"
Minho didn't miss a beat. "There were only two left," he said with a shrug, already halfway out of the room.
Felix groaned dramatically as Minho disappeared down the hall. "He's such a gremlin."
Jisung just hummed noncommittally, twisting the cap of the bottle. His palms were a bit sweaty, though that might've been more to do with Minho's voice still echoing in his ears than the room temperature.
How did he even know that? About the lemon ones?
He took a sip, frowning faintly at the bottle like it might hold an answer.
It didn't.
_______________
A week later, Jisung found himself sitting in the car with Minho again, this time in an empty car park just off a quiet industrial estate, early enough that the nearby shops hadn't opened yet and there wasn't another car in sight.
Minho leaned back in his seat, arms folded as he looked around the space. "Alright. Reversing today."
Jisung nodded slowly, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
Minho gestured toward the open space ahead of them. "You've got loads of room here. No pressure. Just get used to the way the car moves in reverse before we add anything tricky."
"Right," Jisung said, already anxious despite the complete lack of obstacles. "Because driving forwards wasn't difficult enough."
Minho just gave him a look that somehow managed to be both amused and fond. Then he started the engine again. "Watch first."
He shifted the car into reverse with that usual effortless motion, then turned his upper body to look out the rear windscreen. One arm reached behind Jisung's seat, his hand resting on the back of the headrest, just inches from Jisung's shoulder.
The other hand stayed lightly on the wheel. Calm. Controlled.
Jisung tried to pay attention to what he was doing. Really, he did. But his focus kept betraying him.
Minho's forearm was right in his eyeline, the muscle tensing subtly as he twisted, veins just visible under his skin. His jaw looked even sharper from the side, like something carved, impossibly defined at this angle, with a single stray lock of hair falling across his temple.
And his voice, still that low, patient tone, was explaining the turning radius of the car and how to keep it steady, but Jisung was only catching every other word.
His brain had completely short-circuited.
God, I'm a menace. I'm going to crash this car and die and it'll be entirely because I can't stop thinking about his arms. His arms. Who the hell has arms like that?
The car rolled smoothly backwards, a slow arc through the open space. Minho adjusted the steering wheel with tiny movements, glancing between mirrors and the back window, completely relaxed.
He brought the car to a soft stop, then turned back around, his hand brushing briefly past Jisung's shoulder as he returned to his seat properly.
"There," he said simply, pulling the handbrake back up. "Now you."
Jisung blinked. "Right. Yep. I saw. I mean, I was watching."
Minho tilted his head slightly. "You sure? You looked like you were halfway to the moon."
Jisung let out a breathy, nervous laugh. "Yeah, no, I was totally present. Mentally. In every way."
Minho raised one eyebrow, like he didn't believe a word of it, but didn't push. "Alright then. Your go."
Jisung swallowed, dragged in a breath, and shifted in his seat.
Reverse. Simple. Just do what he did. Except not while actively imploding from proximity.
No big deal.
They swapped seats in silence, the clunk of the doors shutting the only sound between them. Jisung settled in behind the wheel, blowing out a slow breath like he was about to perform open-heart surgery rather than slowly drive backwards through an empty car park.
"Alright," Minho said, shifting in beside him, buckling up again with one smooth motion. "First things first, what do you check before moving?"
Jisung blinked, brain stuttering. "Uh... Mirrors?"
"All of them," Minho nodded. "Rear view. Wing mirrors. And don't forget your blind spots. Quick shoulder checks, both sides. If you forget those on your test, it's an automatic fail."
"Right," Jisung muttered, turning his head left, then right, just slightly exaggerated. "Blind spots. Got it."
"Good," Minho said, voice level. "Now put it in reverse."
Jisung grabbed the gearstick, pushing it to the side and down.
Nothing happened.
He frowned and tried again. It still wouldn't go.
Minho leaned over slightly, not close, but close enough, and pointed. "You've got to lift it a little. There's a catch. Up and over."
Jisung nodded, trying again with the new instruction. This time, it slid into gear with a soft click.
"Okay. Clutch down, find the bite point, gently now," Minho said.
Jisung obeyed, tension high in his body again. His leg was already shaking a bit from nerves, but he focused on the feel of the clutch, how it caught slightly-
And then the car jerked backwards, a little too fast.
"Argh!" Jisung yelped, foot flying to the brake.
The car rocked to a halt with a thump, his heart hammering in his chest.
"I-was that-did I just...?"
"It's fine," Minho said calmly, like Jisung hadn't nearly launched them into the next dimension. "That was just a bit too quick coming off the clutch with a bit too much gas. You overdid it, but that's normal."
Jisung sat there, wide-eyed, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. "I felt it in my teeth."
Minho chuckled. "You didn't hit anything, the car's intact, and you stopped it safely. Not a disaster."
Jisung exhaled hard, half relief, half mortification. "You say that like I didn't just give myself heart palpitations."
"You'll get used to the feel of it," Minho said, still maddeningly unbothered. "That's what practice is for. Ready to try again?"
Jisung looked over at him, saw the way Minho's posture was still totally relaxed, elbow resting against the door, legs loose, one hand casually draped on his thigh, and something in him clicked.
Minho wasn't worried. At all.
That shouldn't have made him feel better. And yet...
He nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Let's go again."
"Okay," Jisung muttered, taking a moment to breathe.
Clutch down, hand on the gearstick. He lifted it gently this time, like Minho had instructed, slotting it smoothly into reverse. His shoulders relaxed a millimetre.
Minho nodded. "Good. Now just ease the clutch out slowly, feel for that bite point."
Jisung did as he was told, more deliberate this time. The car gave a soft jolt, then started creeping backwards.
Not smooth, but better.
"Nice," Minho said. "Now look where you want to go. Don't just stare at the mirrors. Turn your head, check the rear window. Steer gently. It's all low-speed."
Jisung twisted slightly, left hand keeping light pressure on the wheel while his right hovered by his side.
It was awkward. His movements felt jerky, exaggerated. But the car obeyed. Wobbly, uneven, but moving.
And best of all, he hadn't panicked this time.
Minho gave the faintest nod. "That's it. See? You're not sending us into a lamppost or anything."
"Yet," Jisung mumbled, eyes flicking between the rear view mirror and the open car park behind them.
They continued slowly, Minho giving small corrections. "Bit more to the right, yeah, now hold. Keep the wheels there... Good. Stop."
Jisung pressed the brake. The car stilled.
"I did it," he said, blinking. "That was... Okay. Wasn't it?"
"Better than most on their second try," Minho replied, and Jisung tried very hard not to let that go directly to his head.
They kept going, short, slow reverses in different lines, slight curves, little stops. Each time, Minho's voice guided him: calm, measured, confident. And each time, Jisung felt a bit less like he was wrestling a metal beast and more like he was actually driving.
His thighs were burning from keeping steady pressure on the pedals, his brain overloaded from the checklist running constantly in his mind, mirrors, clutch, steering, brake, again and again.
After maybe twenty minutes, Minho leaned forward slightly. "Alright, last one. Then we'll park up."
Jisung did as he was told, once more easing the car into reverse and moving slowly, eyes flicking to the side mirror, then the rearview. His movements still weren't elegant, but they were his. No panic. No accidental lurch.
He stopped the car cleanly, breath shallow from concentration, then pulled the handbrake and slipped it into neutral without needing to be reminded.
Minho nodded, pleased. "You're getting the hang of it."
Jisung grinned, his exhaustion laced with something warm and fizzy in his chest. "I think I'm growing calf muscles just from this."
Minho chuckled. "Driving: the overlooked leg day."
They sat there for a second, the silence not awkward for once, just... Still. Comfortable.
Jisung flexed his foot slightly and let his head fall back against the seat. "Alright. When do I get to do donuts in an abandoned car park?"
Minho scoffed. "When you can reverse in a straight line without looking like you're defusing a bomb."
Jisung snorted. "Rude. Accurate. But rude."
____________
The next six weeks passed in a blur of gear changes, indicator clicks, and nervous laughter.
As Jisung spent more time driving, the lessons progressed from thirty minutes, to sixty.
Driving slowly stopped feeling like walking a tightrope in a windstorm. Jisung was still cautious, still clutched the wheel a little too tightly, still double-checked every mirror, but the fear had started to ebb. Confidence took its place, small and stubborn and real.
They moved from sleepy side streets to more active roads. Minho had taken to sliding into the passenger seat the second they left the house without comment now, tossing him the keys like it was the most natural thing in the world. The first time Jisung had caught them one-handed and felt absurdly cool for about three seconds before promptly stalling the car again.
He'd started driving over 20mph, had made it up to third gear on multiple occasions, and hadn't given either of them whiplash from a sudden brake in weeks. Each small win was marked with a smirk or nod of approval from Minho, and Jisung had never known something so mundane could feel so addictive.
Occasionally, he still made small mistakes. Nothing dangerous, just enough to leave him cringing for hours afterwards and replaying them in his head like a blooper reel from hell.
One afternoon, it was something as simple, and horrifying, as reaching for the gearstick and mis-judging it. They were parked at a red light, sunlight slanting low through the windscreen, Minho relaxed in the passenger seat with one leg splayed lazily toward the centre console.
Jisung reached sideways without thinking, aiming for the gearstick, and grabbed something else entirely.
His palm met solid muscle, warm and firm under the thin fabric of Minho's joggers. His brain shorted out instantly.
"Oh my god-I'm so sorry!" Jisung yelped, snatching his hand back like he'd touched fire. His face was already burning, ears hot with shame. "I wasn't-I wasn't looking, I thought it was the-God, I swear I didn't mean-"
Minho, to his credit, didn't burst out laughing or pull away dramatically. He just blinked, glanced down, then cleared his throat. "It's... It's fine," he said, eyes fixed out the window. "Honest mistake."
But Jisung caught it, just barely. The way Minho's fingers flexed against his own knee. The faint, traitorous red blooming at the tips of his ears.
The light turned green, and they moved on, neither of them saying much for the rest of the drive.
But that night, lying in bed, Jisung's brain betrayed him again. It returned, not to the embarrassment, but to the feeling. The heat. The firmness. The way his hand had fit awkwardly, fully, against Minho's thigh.
How solid it had been.
He groaned and pulled a pillow over his face.
A week passed, and he still couldn't forget it.
Not the mistake, but the reaction.
Minho hadn't pushed him away.
And that meant something... Didn't it?
____________
By week eight, he could navigate small roundabouts without sweating through his shirt. He even managed lane changes without needing to rehearse it five times in his head first.
And then came the seagull.
They were driving along the coast road, early morning, the sky still pale with sunrise, when the bird launched itself directly into their path like it had a death wish.
There was a loud thunk, a flurry of feathers, and Jisung slammed on the brakes.
"Oh my god-was that-did I just-did I kill it?!"
His voice cracked on the last word. He stared out through the windscreen in horror, hands frozen at ten and two, heart pounding like a war drum.
Minho blinked. Then burst out laughing.
"I-Jisung-it's fine. You clipped it. It flew off. Birds are suicidal, especially seagulls. It'll probably mug someone for food in ten minutes."
Jisung turned to stare at him, still pale. "That was not funny. I nearly had a heart attack."
Minho was still grinning. "Welcome to driving."
Jisung groaned and let his head fall dramatically onto the steering wheel, embarrassment pouring off him in waves. But Minho just shook his head fondly. "You handled it well. Panicked a bit, but you didn't swerve or do anything reckless."
"I froze."
"You braked. Safely. That's what matters."
Jisung didn't answer, but he sat up a little straighter after that.
By week nine, the clutch didn't feel like a ticking time bomb. Hill starts weren't immediate death sentences. And then came the final boss: parallel parking.
They were back on a quiet residential street, hazard lights blinking gently as Minho leaned back in the passenger seat and folded his arms. "Alright. Let's see what you've got."
The first try was... Okay. A little too far from the kerb, and he oversteered slightly at the end.
But the second try?
Clean.
Smooth.
Perfect distance. Perfect angle. The car settled in like it had always belonged there.
When Jisung turned to Minho for feedback, Minho was already smiling, wide, warm, genuinely impressed. "That was textbook. Seriously."
Jisung's breath caught.
It was just a smile. Just teeth and lips and crinkles at the corners of Minho's eyes. But something about it, about knowing he had put that smile there, made something crack open in his chest.
He wanted more of it.
He wanted Minho to be proud of him. Wanted to see that reaction again and again. Not just with driving. With everything.
And suddenly, it hit him like a freight train: this isn't just a crush anymore.
He wanted Minho.
The thought lodged itself somewhere behind his ribs and refused to budge.
______________
The following week, Jisung had to perform an unplanned emergency stop.
They hadn't even practiced them yet.
He had been driving along comfortably at nearly 50 miles an hour, when a car darted out from a side road without warning, and instinct took over. Jisung's feet slammed hard on the brake and clutch, the tyres screeching as the car jolted to a dead stop. The seatbelt yanked him back just in time, the force throwing both him and Minho forward in their seats. His heart thundered in his chest like it was trying to punch its way out, hands frozen on the steering wheel, eyes wide and unblinking. For a split second, everything was still, the hum of the engine, the rush of passing cars, but inside the car, it felt like time had stopped completely.
Jisung's hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, breath caught high in his throat. He could still see the other car, the one that had pulled out without warning, gliding obliviously away in front of them.
"Jisung-hey," Minho's voice cut through the fog, sharp with concern. "Are you okay?"
A hand landed on his shoulder, firm and grounding. Jisung jumped slightly at the contact, or maybe from the leftover adrenaline, and blinked rapidly, forcing himself to nod. "Yeah. I just-yeah. I didn't even see it until-God..."
"You reacted fast," Minho said, his tone already shifting from alarm to reassurance. "Perfect response. Clutch and brake together. You stopped clean."
"Stopped hard," Jisung muttered, chest still heaving.
"Well, yeah, but... That's the point of an emergency stop, Sung" Minho offered a dry smile, though his hand still hadn't left Jisung's shoulder.
Jisung finally turned his head, meeting Minho's gaze. It was unnerving, how quickly his expression could flip from unreadable to that. That soft, open concern that made Jisung feel both fragile and held, like someone had peeled him open.
His heart pounded, whether from the near miss or from Minho's touch, he couldn't say. Probably both.
Minho's fingers squeezed gently. "You alright now?"
Jisung nodded, slower this time. "Yeah. Just... Shaking a bit."
"That's normal." Minho's eyes didn't leave his. "It's a shock to the system. But you did exactly what you were supposed to do. You kept us safe."
The weight of those words hit harder than Jisung expected. You kept us safe.
He hadn't even thought. He'd just acted, legs moving on autopilot, instincts kicking in. But hearing it said aloud, and from Minho, of all people, made something twist deep in his gut.
Minho finally lifted his hand from Jisung's shoulder, the warmth of it fading slower than it should have. "Alright," he said, voice steady but not unkind. "We're kind of sitting in the way now. When you're ready, let's get moving again."
Jisung blinked, nodded. His fingers twitched against the steering wheel as he forced himself to focus, mirrors, indicator, clutch, bite point. He eased the car back into motion as if on muscle memory alone, merging smoothly with traffic. Perfectly, in fact. But the flawless execution barely registered.
Because all he could think about was the feel of Minho's hand, the weight of it, the calm it offered, the quiet care in the way he'd spoken to him.
You kept us safe.
His stomach churned with something electric and unfamiliar, his brain flickering between panic and wonder. He'd never been looked at like that before. Not like he was something steady. Not like he was worth trusting.
He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the road. Minho sat quietly beside him now, giving him space, but Jisung could still feel him there, that constant presence just within reach.
And no matter how tightly he gripped the steering wheel, it was his heart that felt most out of control.
___________
Felix's room smelled like body spray and laundry detergent, and the speakers on his desk were pumping out some rap playlist he swore helped him focus, even though he'd spent the last hour doing absolutely nothing productive. Jisung was stretched out on the floor, fiddling with the loose frays on the hem of his jeans, half-listening while Felix scrolled on his phone.
"So," Felix said eventually, flipping the device face-down. "How're the driving lessons going?"
Jisung glanced over, lips tugging into a small smile. "Surprisingly... Good?"
Felix's brows shot up. "Good good? Or 'I haven't stalled in two lessons' good?"
"Like... Actually good." Jisung rolled onto his back, arms sprawled out like a starfish. "I mean, I don't have to think so hard about what I'm doing anymore. Gear changes don't feel like solving a Rubik's Cube. I know the engine sounds now, I know when to shift without thinking about it. Parallel parking isn't a disaster. And roundabouts? They don't send me into a cold sweat."
Felix laughed. "You sound proud."
"I am proud." Jisung grinned up at the ceiling. "Driving doesn't feel like a nerve-wracking chore any more."
Felix nudged his foot. "Well, look at you. Won't be long before you don't need lessons at all."
The comment was so casual, so innocently tossed out, that it shouldn't have hit the way it did.
But it did.
Jisung's smile faded slightly. "Yeah," he said, voice a bit quieter. "I guess not."
He stared at the ceiling again, a pit blooming somewhere deep in his stomach. It should have been a relief, an accomplishment. Ten weeks ago, he could barely get the car to move. Now he could navigate traffic without panicking, pull off smooth turns, park with confidence. He was close. Really close.
But instead of excitement, all he felt was dread curling in his chest.
Because once the lessons ended... That was it. No more scheduled time with Minho. No more quiet conversations in the car, or quick glances that lasted just a second too long. No more subtle smiles over the dashboard. No more excuses.
He considered, very briefly, stupidly, whether he could start making mistakes again. Just a few. Hesitate at a junction. Overshoot a turn. Forget to shift gears at the right time.
Anything to keep those sixty-minute slices of time.
But the idea soured instantly. It was reckless. Dangerous. Selfish. And he'd never forgive himself if he put either of them at risk just to cling to a one-sided crush.
Still, the thought lingered, stubborn and aching.
He didn't want it to end.
Not yet.
___________
The morning of his next lesson, Jisung woke earlier than usual, the soft light slipping through the curtains stirring a flutter of excitement in his chest. Over the weeks, he'd gotten used to these early starts, more than that, he looked forward to them. The thought of spending time with Minho made his stomach do somersaults, even after ten weeks.
After a quick shower, he stood in front of the mirror, tugging on a fitted white T-shirt that hugged his biceps just right. For a fleeting moment, he hesitated, reaching for the small bottle of perfume he'd bought ages ago but never used. A quick spritz, nothing heavy, just enough to maybe catch Minho's attention.
When he finally padded into the kitchen, Minho sat nursing a black coffee, eyes hooded with morning calm. But when Jisung appeared, Minho blinked twice, clearly caught off guard. His gaze flicked up and down, lips parting slightly, as if words were just out of reach.
They weren't meant to set off for another hour yet. Felix was still asleep upstairs, oblivious to the quiet tension filling the kitchen.
"I was just going to make some toast before we leave," Jisung said, voice light but uneven.
Minho shook his head, pushing his cup aside. "I'll make breakfast. You shouldn't be starting the day on an empty stomach."
Jisung flushed but tried to sound casual. "It's not necessary, really."
Minho's eyes twinkled with something unreadable. "It's fine. I want to. Besides, I could do with eating as well."
Jisung settled onto the breakfast bar stool, watching Minho move around the kitchen with easy confidence. He was making pajeon, an oversized one, flipping it expertly in the pan. When it was done, Minho cut it neatly in half, placing both portions on one plate.
Returning to the bar, Minho sat down close enough that their knees brushed. They shared the plate between them, the quiet scrape of cutlery filling the space.
Jisung couldn't quite explain it, but something about sitting this close, sharing this simple meal, felt unusually intimate, like a secret they were both quietly holding.
Breaking the silence, Jisung gave a small, teasing smile. "Maybe you should teach me to cook next. If your driving lessons are anything to go by, I'm in good hands."
Minho chuckled softly, the sound warm and easy. "Sure, I could do that. You're a good student. Anything else you wanted me to teach you?"
Jisung's cheeks flushed instantly, heat creeping up his neck as his mind scrambled to block out the exact things he'd been thinking. "Er, well... I think I'm good for now," he said quickly, forcing a laugh to cover the flutter in his chest. But his eyes flicked up to Minho's, and for a moment, the unspoken hung between them, heavier than words.
Minho smiled at him, slow and easy, almost like he knew exactly what Jisung was thinking. Jisung fought the urge to let his gaze drift down to those lips, smooth and inviting. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly much heavier than before.
Quickly, he finished the last bite of his half of the pajeon, trying to steady his racing heart.
Just then, Minho's hand gently squeezed his knee, warm and reassuring. Rising from the stool, he said softly, "Right, let's get going then."
Jisung nodded, still flushed, but something inside him felt lighter, like maybe this was more than just driving lessons after all.
____________
The lesson ended with Minho's rare, genuine praise. "That was a perfect drive, Jisung. Honestly, it's impressive how quickly you've picked everything up. I think you're nearly ready to take your test. You uh... Probably don't need me any more."
Jisung's chest swelled with pride at the words, his hard work finally paying off. But beneath the elation, a quiet pang settled in, the thought of losing these lessons, these moments with Minho, gnawed at him.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Minho shifted slightly in his seat, breaking the quiet with a hesitant suggestion. "How about we do some driving at night? It's not really necessary for the test, but good practice for when you get your licence."
Jisung practically jumped at the offer, relief flooding through him. "But wait... Don't you have, like... A girlfriend or something you spend your evenings with?"
He knew he was prying, but couldn't stop himself.
Minho stifled a barked laugh. "Uh... No, Jisung. Definitely no girlfriend. Honestly, most evenings I'm at the gym or watching TV. This would be a nice change of pace. Productive. And the company wouldn't be bad."
The ease in Minho's tone, the hint of something unspoken between them, made Jisung's heart race all over again.
Jisung's breath caught, and without thinking, he said quietly, "Then... I'd like that. Very much."
Their eyes locked, the air thick with something nameless and electric. Jisung wondered, Why isn't he looking away? His heart hammered against his ribs, like it was desperate to break free.
Minho held his gaze for a moment longer before clearing his throat, the spell broken. He shifted back in his seat, turning to face the front of the car.
"Anyway... We should probably head back," he said, voice steady but softer than before.
Jisung nodded, his fingers trembling slightly as he quietly switched the engine back on and eased the car out of the parking spot. The journey back was smooth, but the silence between them was charged, every glance felt heavier, every breath more deliberate.
They pulled into the driveway, and Jisung cut the engine, the sudden stillness making the space inside the car feel like static. Neither moved, both caught in the moment.
Minho's hands rested casually on his thighs, and Jisung's heart thudded painfully as a ridiculous, impulsive urge bloomed inside him, to reach over, to lace his fingers through Minho's.
He caught himself, wondering what that would feel like. The thought lingered, tempting and wild, before reality gently settled back in.
Jisung slowly pulled the key from the ignition, his fingers curling around the cold metal before he extended his hand, palm up, towards Minho.
For a heartbeat, Minho didn't move, then, almost hesitantly, his fingertips brushed lightly against Jisung's palm as he took the key.
A shiver raced up Jisung's spine, his breath catching at the simple, electric contact.
Minho's hand curled tightly around the key, the brief warmth of their touch lingering, before he reached out and grasped the car door handle, breaking the moment as he slid the door open.
Jisung led in bed later that night, eyes wide open as the moments from the car replayed over and over in his mind. The way Minho had suggested the night drives, meaning more time together. The way he hadn't rushed out of the car, lingering just a little longer. The way his fingers had brushed against Jisung's palm when taking the keys, a touch so brief, yet searing.
Was he overthinking it? Or did Minho feel that same strange, electric pull?
The thought was enough to drive him mad with anticipation and confusion, heart pounding as sleep slipped further away.
___________
The next driving lesson arrived faster than Jisung expected. As evening settled in, the sky dimmed to a soft twilight, the streets quiet but alive with the distant hum of city life.
Jisung pulled on his jacket, nerves fluttering as he made his way to the car. Minho was already there, leaning casually against the hood.
"Ready for tonight's lesson?" Minho asked, his voice low and easy, but something unspoken hung in the air between them.
Jisung swallowed hard, sliding into the driver's seat, the familiar warmth of the car mingling with the thrill of something new, something electric, and as Minho settled beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his side, Jisung felt the darkness press in closer upon them both.
Jisung drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel despite the current of nerves humming beneath his skin. The world outside the windshield was bathed in shadows, streetlights casting long, golden streaks across the road, headlights of the occasional passing car flashing like lightning in the dark.
Minho's voice broke the stillness every so often, low and smooth.
"Left here."
"Next right."
"Third exit at the roundabout."
Each instruction was delivered calmly, but every word felt amplified in the silence, as though the quiet around them made space for something else to bloom, something heavier, denser, unspoken.
Their shoulders brushed slightly each time they rounded a corner too tightly. Minho didn't shift away. Jisung didn't dare to.
The radio played quietly in the background, some late-night indie station drifting through melancholy vocals and soft guitar chords. It matched the mood too well.
At a red light, Jisung glanced sideways. Minho's face was dimly lit by the glow of the dashboard, his expression unreadable, but his lips were parted slightly, as if he were about to speak.
He didn't.
Instead, when the light turned green, he just nodded gently. "Straight ahead."
They turned down another residential street, the road empty save for a cat darting across the pavement and the occasional flicker of a porch light. Jisung's knuckles were tight on the wheel, but his eyes kept flicking to Minho.
It had been like this for the last twenty minutes. Quiet. Not their usual, comfortable quiet. Not the silence filled with the low hum of the engine and the occasional instruction. This one felt heavier. Thoughtful. Distant.
Jisung bit the inside of his cheek, then glanced sideways again.
"You okay?" he asked finally, voice low.
Minho looked over, brows lifting faintly. "Yeah. Why?"
Jisung shrugged one shoulder, keeping his eyes on the road. "You're just... Quieter than usual. Kinda tense. I dunno, it's not like you."
Minho was silent for a moment, then gave a quiet exhale. "Sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."
Jisung nodded slowly. The indicator clicked as he prepared to turn. "Wanna talk about it?"
Minho's sigh was soft, but it felt heavy in the quiet of the car. His gaze was fixed out the window, watching the passing rows of streetlights blur into gold streaks against the night.
"I appreciate it," he said eventually, his voice low. "Really. But it's not something you can help with."
Jisung tightened his grip on the wheel. "You don't know that."
Minho looked at him then, and something in his eyes flickered, surprise, maybe, or guilt. Or something heavier, like he wished he could hand it over. Share it. Let it go.
But he didn't.
Instead, he gave a small shake of his head, his voice quieter than before. "You're sweet. But it's complicated."
That word lingered.
Jisung exhaled slowly through his nose. He wanted to push. Wanted to understand. But he also knew Minho well enough to recognise the end of a conversation when he heard one.
"...Okay," he said finally. "Just... If you change your mind."
Minho gave him a faint smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know."
They drove on in silence, the air between them filled with all the things they weren't saying.
And still, Jisung couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was weighing Minho down... Somehow had something to do with him.
Minho cleared his throat, fingers tapping lightly against the inside of his thigh. "So... Have you booked your test yet?"
Jisung gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, eyes fixed on the quiet road ahead. The question wasn't unexpected, he was ready, more than ready, but something about it still made his heart drop.
He shook his head slowly. "Not yet."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Minho glance at him, his brow creasing just slightly. "Why not? You're driving well enough."
Jisung hesitated, pulse hammering. "I wanted to spend more time with you."
The words hung there in the car, suspended in the low hum of the engine.
There was a choked sound from Minho, low and barely formed, like a sentence that caught in his throat and never quite made it to the surface.
Jisung's stomach flipped.
"I mean, doing lessons," he blurted out, heat rushing to his face. "I just... Want to make sure I'm completely ready. That's all."
Silence.
Minho didn't look at him, not right away. Just nodded once, slowly, gaze fixed somewhere out the windshield. "Right. Makes sense."
But there was something unreadable in his voice.
Jisung drove them back in near silence, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between them. When they finally pulled into the driveway, he switched off the engine and turned to look at Minho.
Minho's eyes met his, voice low and steady. "Book the test, Jisung. You're ready."
Jisung's breath caught, but he didn't respond.
Then, almost imperceptibly, Minho reached out, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind Jisung's ear. The touch was gentle, tentative, his hand lingered for a moment too long before snapping back like he'd startled himself.
Jisung's heart hammered fiercely in his chest, warmth spreading from where Minho's fingers had touched, a confusing mix of hope and nerves flooding through him.
Minho cleared his throat and gave a small, almost forced smile. "Go on. You should go inside. I've got somewhere to be."
They both climbed out of the car at the same time, and Jisung walked toward the front door. Jisung's eyes didn't leave Minho as he slid into the driver's seat. Minho sat back, head resting against the headrest, eyes closed for a moment.
Jisung watched him take a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly.
Then Minho started the engine, reversed smoothly off the driveway, and disappeared quickly down the road.
Jisung stood frozen for a beat longer, heart still racing wildly, not just from the lesson, but from that single, electric touch lingering in his skin.
Jisung trudged inside, the quiet of the house wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. Upstairs, he slipped into his room and dropped onto the bed, his thoughts swirling like a storm.
He reached for his laptop, fingers trembling slightly as he opened the browser and navigated to the driving test booking site.
Minho's touch, the way he tucked that stray hair behind his ear, played on repeat in his mind. Surely, that meant something. There had to be some kind of pull between them.
But tonight had felt... Different. Turbulent. Like Minho was holding something back, or had already made a choice Jisung didn't know about.
Why else tell him to book the test now? Was it a gentle push away?
Jisung scrolled through the website, clicking through the available dates until he found one just a week away. His breath hitched as he confirmed the booking and the confirmation email landed in his inbox.
He exhaled slowly, a heavy mix of relief and sadness flooding him.
Maybe it was finally time to stop clinging to the fantasy, even if it was the last thing he wanted in the world.
____________
Jisung was jolted awake by a sudden crashing noise downstairs, loud enough to shake the windows. His heart leapt in his chest. He knew Felix would probably sleep right through it, heavy sleeper that he was, but Jisung couldn't ignore the disturbance.
Throwing off the covers, he hurried quietly down the stairs, every sense alert in the dim light.
At the bottom, he found Minho standing unsteadily near the hallway, cheeks flushed a deep, unnatural red. The coat stand lay toppled across the floor, its hooks tangled with scarves and hats.
Minho blinked up at him, gaze glassy but unmistakably relieved to see Jisung.
"Minho... What happened?" Jisung asked, stepping closer.
Minho's lips moved, but the words came out as a soft, slurred mumble, broken and confused. "Sorry... I'm so sorry..." he whispered, his voice rough.
"It's okay," Jisung reassured quickly, moving to take Minho's jacket off. "I'll sort out the coat stand, don't worry about it."
Minho's eyes flickered with something heavy and urgent as he shook his head slowly. "No... Not the-not the coat stand."
Jisung frowned, confusion knotting his brow. "What do you mean?"
Minho's gaze dropped, his jaw tightening as if trying to push words past some invisible barrier, but no further explanation came. Instead, a shadow of pain flickered across his face, fleeting but unmistakable.
Without another word, Minho reached out, his fingers curling tightly around Jisung's waist like a lifeline. His grip was almost desperate, as if clinging to something steady was the only thing keeping him upright.
Jisung swallowed hard, feeling the raw weight of whatever Minho was holding inside, and gently guided him toward the living room.
"Come on, let's get you settled," Jisung murmured softly.
Minho leaned heavily against him, his movements sluggish, the pained expression never quite leaving his eyes. As they reached the couch, Minho sagged down and pulled Jisung closer, his arms wrapping firmly around Jisung's waist as he dragged him to lie beside him.
The tightness of the embrace sent a ripple of conflicting emotions through Jisung, confusion, concern, something tender.
Minho's face was strained, brows knit as if wrestling with an invisible storm. His breath hitched faintly, and Jisung could almost feel the weight of the silence pressing down on them.
Jisung reached for a bottle of water from the end table next to the couch, his hands trembling slightly as he brought it to Minho's lips. Minho took the water with a shaky hand, then leaned even closer, his body molding against Jisung's as if searching for comfort.
"Hey... It's alright," Jisung whispered, voice low and steady. "You're safe here."
Slowly, Minho's grip loosened, his breathing evening out as exhaustion claimed him. His head found rest against Jisung's chest, and before long, he slipped into sleep.
But as Jisung held him, in the quiet darkness he caught faint murmurs, broken words whispered through soft breaths.
"Can't... Shouldn't... Not right..."
Jisung's heart clenched tight, aching to understand, yet the meaning remained just beyond reach, like a secret whispered on the wind, fragile and elusive.
Jisung brushed Minho's hair out of his face before gently running his fingers through it. Minho sighed into his touch, his facial features finally starting to relax. Jisung continued to stroke his fingers through Minho's hair until he finally stopped mumbling.
Jisung hesitated, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Should he try to gently pull away and slip back to bed, careful not to disturb Minho? Or should he let himself stay, savouring the rare closeness, the way Minho was wrapped so tightly around him, as if holding on for dear life?
He knew this wouldn't happen if Minho were sober. This fragile vulnerability was a side of him he'd never seen, and Jisung wasn't sure what it meant, but he didn't want to let go just yet.
His body was heavy with sleep, eyelids drooping despite the tension in his chest. The warmth radiating from Minho's embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the quietness of the night pulled him under.
Without another thought, Jisung allowed himself to drift off, wrapped in a silent, tentative connection that neither of them fully understood.
___________
The room was bathed in soft grey light when Jisung stirred, his eyes blinking open slowly. For a brief, drowsy moment, he didn't quite remember where he was, only that he was warm, cocooned, the steady rise and fall of breath against his side grounding him.
And then he remembered.
Minho. Wrapped around him.
Still wrapped around him.
Jisung held completely still, barely daring to breathe. Minho's arm was draped around his waist, his hand splayed across Jisung's side as if it belonged there. His head was tucked in just beneath Jisung's chin, lips barely brushing against the collar of his shirt. He was fast asleep, his face soft, far younger somehow in sleep. Peaceful in a way Jisung rarely got to see.
For a few minutes, Jisung let himself have it. Just... Have this. The stillness. The warmth. The silent ache of a wish so close it almost didn't hurt anymore.
But eventually, reality crept in around the edges.
Carefully, inch by inch, Jisung slid out from under Minho's arm, making sure not to jostle him too much. As he eased off the couch, Minho shifted slightly, a small noise escaping him, but didn't wake fully. His hand curled briefly in the air where Jisung had been, before settling back onto the cushion.
Jisung stood there for a beat, heart tugging at the sight, before quietly padding to the kitchen.
By the time Minho woke, eyes squinting, face scrunched against the morning light, Jisung had water waiting for him on the counter.
Minho sat up slowly, rubbing his temples with a low groan. "Ugh... What the hell did I drink last night?"
Jisung leaned casually against the counter, doing his best to keep his voice even. "No idea. You were already home when I found you. Just helped you get settled."
Minho blinked blearily at him, frowning. "I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"
There was something uncertain in his voice, a faint wariness that made Jisung's stomach twist.
Jisung shook his head, managing a small smile. "No. Nothing like that. You just knocked over the coat stand. All good now."
Minho relaxed slightly, sighing. "God. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Jisung said, more gently than before. "You were clearly having a night."
Minho took the water with a mumbled thanks, and Jisung turned away under the guise of rinsing a glass, hiding the ache that had bloomed in his chest.
Minho didn't remember.
And maybe that was for the best.
Jisung lingered by the sink, fingers drumming lightly against the rim of the glass. He kept his eyes on the faint suds circling the drain as he said, casually, or at least he hoped it sounded casual,
"I did what you said, by the way."
Minho, still holding the glass of water, looked up from where he was hunched on a stool. "What do you mean?"
Jisung turned then, drying his hands on a tea towel. His voice was light, but his heart skipped all the same. "I booked my driving test."
Minho blinked. For a moment, something unreadable flickered in his expression, surprise, maybe. Or something more complicated. Then he nodded, slowly.
"Oh. That's... Good." His voice sounded careful. "That's really good."
"Yeah," Jisung said, forcing a smile. "There was a slot for next week. I figured I might as well, right? You said I was ready."
Minho gave a small huff of a laugh, setting his glass down. "You are. You'll pass. Easy."
But the way he said it, not distracted, exactly, but distant, made something twist in Jisung's chest.
There was a pause. A silence that settled over them like morning fog. Jisung waited, hoping maybe Minho would say something more. Anything more.
He didn't.
Instead, Minho pushed himself off the stool and gave him a faint smile. "I'm gonna shower. Headache's still doing laps in my skull."
"Right," Jisung nodded. "Of course."
And just like that, Minho disappeared down the hall, leaving Jisung alone in the quiet kitchen, staring at the half-empty glass of water still on the counter.
___________
The rest of the morning passed in a strange sort of haze.
Jisung found himself moving on autopilot, making toast, aimlessly scrolling through his phone, picking up a book he didn't actually read. Every now and then, he'd catch himself staring off into space, thoughts trailing back to the image of Minho disappearing into the hallway, the soft click of the bathroom door shutting behind him.
It shouldn't have stung. He'd done the right thing. Didn't press. Didn't ask. Didn't make it weird.
So why did it still feel like something had quietly come undone between them?
Later, Felix stumbled into the kitchen, hair a mess, hoodie barely clinging to one shoulder. "Why are you up so early?" he asked through a yawn.
"I've been up for hours," Jisung replied, forcing a grin. "I'm evolving into a morning person. Terrifying, I know."
Felix snorted, grabbing the cereal box. "Is this because of driving?"
Jisung hesitated. "Speaking of... I booked my test."
Felix perked up instantly, eyes wide with excitement. "No way! Dude, that's awesome! When is it?"
"Next week."
"Holy crap, that's soon!" Felix grinned at him, mouth full of cereal. "You're totally gonna pass. You've been killing it lately according to Minho."
Jisung nodded, smiling back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Felix squinted at him. "Wait. You don't seem happy about it."
"I am," Jisung said quickly. Too quickly. "I'm just nervous. Y'know. Test nerves."
Felix tilted his head, clearly not buying it. "You sure?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course."
He looked down at the table, heart thudding a little too loud in his chest. He could have told Felix the truth. Could have finally said aloud the thing he'd been carrying for weeks now. How every compliment from Minho hit deeper than it should. How he'd started to hope. Stupidly, quietly, desperately.
But what would be the point?
Even if Minho did feel something, he clearly wasn't going to act on it. The way he'd pulled back. The way he'd looked at him this morning, like whatever had happened the night before had been a mistake he would never repeat.
So Jisung kept his mouth shut.
Because it was easier that way.
_____________
The glow of the television flickered softly across the dim living room, casting muted light onto Jisung's face. He sat curled up on one end of the couch, a bottle of water resting loosely in his hands, the opening theme of some half-forgotten anime playing in the background. He wasn't really watching it, the characters blurred and shifted across the screen without anchoring in his brain.
His thoughts were too loud. Too insistent.
Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined himself behind the wheel tomorrow, the examiner in the passenger seat, every roundabout and signal turning into a potential disaster. And behind it all, quieter but still unmistakable, the thought that tomorrow might be the last time he had an excuse to spend time with Minho.
The front door opened with a soft click.
Jisung startled slightly, heart lurching before the familiar sound of footsteps followed, the quiet thump of gym shoes being kicked off, the low rustle of keys landing in a bowl.
He barely had time to sit up straighter before Minho appeared in the doorway, towel slung around his neck, his shirt clinging damply to his chest and shoulders.
"Oh," Minho said, eyes flicking toward the screen. "Didn't expect anyone to be awake."
"Couldn't sleep," Jisung muttered, shrugging as if it didn't matter.
Minho stepped into the room, his presence heavy in the low light. "Nervous?"
Jisung gave a small, humourless laugh. "Is it that obvious?"
"A little," Minho said, and his voice was softer now. He hesitated for a second, then gestured toward the other end of the couch. "Mind if I sit?"
"Yeah, of course," Jisung said quickly, scooting to give him more space.
Minho dropped down with a sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him. He smelled faintly of soap and sweat and that cologne Jisung could never quite name but had come to associate with every memory that made his chest ache.
For a moment, they just sat in silence, the anime continuing to play quietly in the background.
"You're ready, you know," Minho said suddenly, not looking at him.
Jisung looked down at the bottle of water in his hands, gripping it a little tighter. "I know. It just... Doesn't feel real yet."
Minho nodded. "It will. Tomorrow. You'll see."
Jisung turned his head, letting himself look at Minho in the dim glow of the screen. His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable. But there was something tired in his eyes. Something soft.
He wondered, not for the first time, what Minho would do tomorrow, after the test. After Jisung didn't need him anymore.
Would this all just... End?
Minho's voice cut into his thoughts again, quieter this time. "You should get some rest."
"I tried," Jisung murmured. "Didn't take."
Minho tilted his head slightly. "Then stay down here a bit longer. I'll keep you company."
Jisung's breath caught, but he nodded. "Okay."
They didn't speak much after that.
But Minho didn't leave the room either.
The anime played on, forgotten. Jisung's fingers toyed with the label on his water bottle, his leg bouncing slightly where it tucked under him. He could feel the question forming in his throat before he was ready to ask it, but it slipped out anyway, tentative and small.
"Will you come with me?"
Minho's head turned toward him slowly. "To the test?"
Jisung nodded, eyes fixed firmly on the bottle now. "Yeah."
A beat passed. Then, softly, "Do you want me to?"
Jisung swallowed. "I do."
There was no hesitation in Minho's answer this time. "Then of course I'll come."
Jisung finally looked up at him, heart thudding so hard he was surprised Minho couldn't hear it. Minho's gaze was steady, his expression unreadable again, but there was warmth there, unmistakable.
"Thanks," Jisung whispered, his voice almost cracking around the word.
Minho smiled, small and tired but real. "Try to sleep, yeah? Big day tomorrow."
Jisung nodded slowly, and Minho stood, stretching out the tension in his shoulders before heading for the stairs.
_____________
The car park of the test centre was oddly still, the early morning light casting long shadows across the rows of parked vehicles. Jisung sat in the driver's seat, staring ahead, trying to steady his breathing. His hands were folded tightly in his lap, fingers white-knuckled from the grip, and his left leg bounced restlessly, heel tapping against the car mat in a frantic rhythm.
He felt like he was going to combust. From nerves. From pressure. From the knowledge that everything, all those weeks of learning, every quiet moment in the car with Minho, had led to this.
Minho sat quietly in the passenger seat beside him, arms folded loosely, watching him. He didn't speak at first, just let the silence exist, like he knew Jisung needed a moment.
Then, gently, "You're ready, Jisung."
Jisung swallowed hard, still not looking at him.
"I wouldn't have told you to book it if I didn't think you were."
There was a brief pause. Then Minho reached out, his hand coming to rest firmly on Jisung's thigh, right above his bouncing knee. The pressure stilled him instantly, not just physically, but something deeper, too. His chest eased, just a little.
Minho's hand lingered for a beat, warm and steady. And then, slowly, it slid down, fingers brushing against Jisung's wrist before curling around his hand, their palms pressed together.
Jisung finally looked over.
"You can do this," Minho said, voice low but certain, like it was a truth he was offering rather than reassurance. "I'll be right here waiting for you to come back and tell me you passed."
The sincerity in his eyes made something burn behind Jisung's ribs. He nodded, not trusting his voice.
Minho squeezed his hand once more, then let go, but the warmth of it stayed.
Jisung glanced at his watch again, heart stumbling in his chest.
It was time.
He stood slowly, legs feeling like they didn't quite belong to him. Minho moved beside him, falling into step as they approached the reception desk together. Jisung filled in the paperwork with trembling fingers, name, date of birth, licence number, his signature at the bottom a little more jagged than usual.
Minho stayed silent, standing just behind him, the quiet presence grounding him in a way nothing else could. When Jisung finally finished and handed the clipboard back, the examiner appeared, a middle-aged man with a friendly but unreadable expression. He gestured for Jisung to follow him out to the car.
But before Jisung could take a step, Minho caught his hand again, fingers firm around his wrist, pulling him gently to pause.
"You can do this, Jisung."
His voice was soft, steady. Certain. There was something behind it, lingering just on the edge of his expression. Like he wanted to say more, needed to. But nothing else came. He held Jisung's gaze for a breath longer, then let go.
Jisung's fingers twitched at the loss of contact.
He swallowed hard, nodded, and followed the examiner out into the bright morning light.
The car gleamed in the sunlight, looking painfully ordinary and yet suddenly the most intimidating thing Jisung had ever seen. As they walked across the lot, the examiner stopped and pointed to a nearby vehicle.
"Before we begin, could you read the number plate on that blue car ahead for me?"
Jisung blinked, startled by how dry his mouth felt. He squinted for a moment, then read the letters and numbers aloud without issue.
The examiner gave a small nod. "Perfect. Let's head to the car."
They reached it in silence. Jisung walked around to the driver's side, nerves gnawing at his spine. He remembered Minho's voice, You can do this, and took a breath as he settled into the seat.
Seatbelt. Mirrors. Check.
Observations. Clutch down. First gear. More observations.
And then-
He froze. His foot hovered above the clutch, his mind suddenly blank.
The engine. He hadn't even turned it on.
He wanted to scream at himself. How the hell had he forgotten that?
The examiner, thankfully, didn't make a big deal of it. He offered a gentle smile and said calmly, "When you're ready, start the engine."
Jisung let out a shaky breath, trying to shove the embarrassment aside, and reached for the key.
His fingers trembled just slightly.
Okay. Breathe. You know how to do this. You've done this a hundred times. With him sitting next to you.
But Minho wasn't here now. It was just him, the examiner and the wheel.
He twisted the key. The engine purred to life.
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.
Now... It was time.
The engine hummed beneath his fingertips, but Jisung barely noticed it over the thrum of his own pulse.
The examiner glanced at his clipboard, then to Jisung. "Alright, we'll begin with a standard route. I'll give you directions as we go. Just drive as you normally would. If I need you to perform an emergency stop, I'll say the word 'Stop' clearly. I'll make sure it's safe before I do so, alright?"
Jisung nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay."
They set off.
The first fifteen minutes were a blur of left turns, junctions, and roundabouts. Jisung found his rhythm slowly, clutch control steady, gear changes smooth. His eyes flicked constantly between mirrors, hands locked to ten and two on the steering wheel. His mouth was dry. Every word the examiner said felt like it echoed too loud in the quiet space of the car.
He approached a roundabout, third exit, and almost missed the signal. He flicked the right indicator on late, just as he passed the first exit, and bit the inside of his cheek.
Stupid. Not too late, but almost.
They carried on.
About twenty minutes in, he noticed the examiner begin to glance around the road behind them, turning slightly in his seat, checking their surroundings more than usual.
Jisung's stomach sank. Emergency stop's coming.
Sure enough, after another twenty metres, as the road stretched clear ahead and no cars were behind them-
"Stop."
Jisung hit the brakes, but not like he should have. His brain had anticipated it, and his foot hesitated, too controlled. The car slowed to a stop, but not as sharply as it should have. Too long. Too smooth. Too wrong.
He knew it instantly.
He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight.
He'd done this perfectly just a few weeks ago when that idiot had pulled out in front of him. That had been instinctual. Sharp. Immediate. Exactly how it should be.
This... Wasn't.
The examiner simply nodded. "Thank you. Drive on when ready."
Jisung restarted the car, shaking his head slightly as if he could jolt the mistake out of his brain.
The route continued. He turned when told, navigated traffic, managed a tight uphill start without slipping back, a moment of pride fluttering in his chest, but the emergency stop still lingered like a bruise in his mind.
Just two minutes from the test centre, after waiting at the traffic lights, he stalled.
No. No, no-
But this time, the panic didn't consume him.
He pressed the clutch, calmly restarted the engine, did his observations again, and pulled out when it was clear. The examiner said nothing.
Okay, Jisung thought. Shake it off. Just finish strong.
Back at the test centre, the examiner glanced at him. "Final manoeuvre: I'd like you to reverse bay park into any of the free bays on the left, please."
Jisung's heart slammed back into overdrive. He nodded, pulling ahead to line up the car.
There was a slight curb lip to roll over, just enough resistance that he'd need more throttle than usual to get moving backward. He hated it. His left leg shook with adrenaline as he tried to hold the clutch and give just the perfect amount of gas with his right. He could see the metal fence behind the bays in his mirror. Too fast, and he'd hit it. Fail.
He breathed. Turned the wheel. Moved slowly.
The curb jostled beneath the tires. The engine grumbled, but didn't stall.
His leg shook harder.
One meter. Half.
Straighten the wheels. Ease it back.
He stopped the car dead centre of the bay.
Perfectly within the lines.
He exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and shut off the engine, hands falling limp in his lap.
The examiner didn't speak at first. He tapped methodically at his tablet, fingers moving slowly, deliberately. The silence stretched on just long enough to let doubt start to fester.
Jisung stared at his own hands, palms clammy. His knee bounced despite himself.
Finally, the examiner looked over. "Would you like your instructor to be present for the feedback?"
Jisung's heart plummeted into his stomach.
He's failed. He'd failed, and now Minho was going to sit beside him while he was told in cold, clinical terms just how badly he'd messed up.
He swallowed and shook his head. "No... That's okay. I'll just... I'll just hear it now."
The examiner gave a neutral nod and resumed tapping at his screen. "Alright. Let's run through a few points then."
Jisung braced himself.
"Your indication at the roundabout was slightly late, still within acceptable margins, but do make sure to signal your intention as early as possible."
He nodded. Fair.
"There was an issue with the emergency stop. The braking wasn't quite forceful enough. If that had been a real emergency, you might not have stopped in time to avoid an accident."
I know. God, I know.
"You also stalled once near the end of the route. You handled it well, restarted the car calmly, made the necessary checks, but still something to note."
Jisung could barely breathe.
"And on your reverse bay park, while the final position was correct, you didn't make quite as many observational checks as we like to see, particularly just before the car began moving."
The disappointment settled in his chest like a stone. His shoulders slumped.
There it was. All laid out, mistake by mistake.
He'd failed.
He blinked down at his hands, throat tight, lips pressing together to keep himself composed.
The examiner took a breath.
"Well," he said. "That said... I'm pleased to tell you that you have passed."
Jisung blinked. Slowly looked up. "What?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of the examiner's mouth. "You passed. You made a few small errors, but nothing that exceeded the limit for faults. Overall, your driving showed competence and calm under pressure."
"What?" Jisung repeated, more breath than word this time, his voice cracking with disbelief. "Seriously‽"
The tablet was turned toward him for a moment, and there it was, his name, and the word Passed in clean, undeniable text.
Jisung stared at it, his eyes stinging. Happy tears welled up, the kind that came so fast he didn't have time to blink them away.
"I-thank you," he breathed. "Oh my god. Thank you."
The examiner gave a polite nod and got out the car, heading back inside to finalise the paperwork.
Jisung sat there, alone in the car, hands trembling in his lap.
He'd done it.
He'd actually done it.
He looked back toward the test centre, eyes zeroing in on the familiar silhouette just outside the door.
Minho.
Jisung saw him instantly, shoulders hunched slightly, arms crossed as he waited, his gaze scanning the car park until it landed on Jisung. Their eyes met.
And suddenly, the joy bubbled up so fast and so fierce that it couldn't be contained.
Jisung shoved the car door open and stumbled out, the force of his grin threatening to split his face in two. He took a few quick steps toward Minho and then, unable to hold it in any longer, broke into a semi-run, laughing breathlessly as he called out, half-shouting, "I passed!"
Minho's expression shifted in an instant, his mouth falling open, eyebrows lifting in delighted surprise. But before he could even say a word, Jisung launched himself forward, all but leaping into his arms.
Minho caught him without hesitation, strong arms locking around his waist, spinning him in one clean motion that made Jisung feel like the world had tilted on its axis. He laughed again, sharp, euphoric and disbelieving, and when Minho finally lowered him back down to the ground, their faces were suddenly so close.
And then it happened.
Minho leaned in and kissed him.
Soft. Sure. A moment that held no hesitation until it was already over.
Jisung froze, stunned, not out of fear, but out of sheer, raw wonder. Minho's mouth against his was warm, and brief, and perfect in a way that made Jisung's heart stop altogether.
But the kiss ended almost as quickly as it had begun.
Minho pulled back like he'd just been shocked, hands still loosely resting on Jisung's waist but already beginning to fall away. His eyes were wide, panic starting to bloom behind them. "I-shit, Jisung, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"
But Jisung didn't give him the chance to finish.
He surged forward, grabbing a fistful of Minho's shirt and yanking him back down. "Don't," he said, voice shaking with something halfway between laughter and relief. "Don't apologise."
And then he kissed him again.
Longer this time.
Firmer. Surer.
It was messy and desperate and made of months of held breath, of quiet tension and charged silences and sleepless nights. Minho let out a quiet, broken sound against his mouth, hands returning to Jisung's waist and gripping like he didn't quite believe this was real.
But it was.
It was happening.
And Jisung didn't care if the whole world saw.
Minho pulled back again, just slightly, only enough to put an inch or two of space between them, though Jisung's fist was still clutching the fabric of his shirt like a tether he couldn't bring himself to release.
Minho's eyes searched his face, wild and conflicted. His hands, once confident, now hovered uncertainly at Jisung's waist, unsure whether to let go or pull him closer.
"We shouldn't," he said, voice low and unsteady. "I shouldn't. You're Felix's best friend. I'm-" he broke off with a quiet breath, jaw clenching. "I've been trying so hard not to cross that line. Because it's not... It's not right, Jisung."
Jisung's heart pounded, still racing from the test, from the kiss, from Minho's arms around him. He stared at him, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.
"Why?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why isn't it right?"
Minho blinked, visibly flustered. "Because I'm older, and I've been teaching you, and Felix would kill me if he knew I-" He let out a short, frustrated breath. "I didn't think you'd ever feel the same. I thought it was just me, wanting something I wasn't supposed to want."
Jisung huffed a shaky laugh, disbelieving. "You idiot."
Minho's eyes snapped to his, startled.
Jisung shook his head, his grip on Minho's shirt tightening. "I've had a crush on you for years. Literal years. I used to come over just to catch a glimpse of you. I've been trying to get over it this entire time because I thought you didn't feel anything."
Minho looked like he'd just been punched in the chest. "You... What?"
"I don't care about right or wrong or whatever weird rules you made up to stop yourself. I passed my test. This isn't a lesson anymore." Jisung's voice trembled with a mix of nerves and defiance. "I don't want to pretend there's nothing here when clearly there is."
He stood on his toes then and tugged Minho down by the collar of his shirt, not waiting for a response.
And kissed him again.
It was slower this time, more certain, and Minho melted into it, like a dam finally giving way after holding back for far too long. His hands returned to Jisung's waist, fingers curling there like they belonged, and his lips moved against Jisung's with a quiet desperation, like he was making up for every second they'd wasted pretending.