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"Hannie! Can you come over here for a sec?"
Jisung puts down the old Readymade patchwork bag he was sorting for the third time, under Richard's watchful eye to make sure he won't forget anything.
The only actually important things are his phone and passport anyway. Anything else can be bought in New York or Chan will have spares, still so used to corralling seven men with different degrees of forgetfulness even if they have gotten better at it.
He crosses the short corridor to the main bedroom to see Minho frowning at the floor length mirror on the wardrobe door facing their bed. At least he assumes his big baby is frowning. It's kind of hard to tell between the black cap, and the sunglasses, and with him fiddling with the mask at the bridge of his lovely nose.
Minho finally pulls the mask down and turns to him lips pursed, hands on his hips, "Be honest, do I look like a stalker?"
Jisung can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of him, making Minho pout even harder. Well. Minho doesn't not look a little suspicious, decked in all black like that. But if he was a stalker he would be quite the luxurious one with the expensive fabric and shiny accessories he's supporting.
Even covered from head to toe the way he is now Minho doesn't really blend into the shadows. He never can. Though it's not about the clothes so much as the effortlessly gorgeous man wearing them.
Jisung should be used to the sheer presence Minho can exude through nothing but his eyes after so many years together, but every time he looks at the other man his breath still catches.
It's not a surprise, Lee Minho would draw attention in a burlap sack.
A very brand logo covered sack.
"You look like a Gucci catalogue threw up on you."
Minho nods, at least a little satisfied. Some of the boys have contractual obligations with the brands they are ambassadors of for public appearances, though Minho is the most careless with it.
He likes comfortable and efficient clothes. He'd live in his breathable exercise shirts and loose dancing sweatpants if he could. Even the more athletic Gucci shorts he likes to wear around the house, and drive Jisung crazy with when they ride up those toned thighs, aren't really airport send-off appropriate.
So he just throws on anything he can find with a recognizable design and calls it a day.
Jisung is the one who sometimes suggests one sweater or jacket over the other, or makes Minho pick a different, but still Gucci, bag on their way out.
Jisung is the one who cares more about both of their outfits on any occasion he knows they'll be photographed. Even on off-schedule personal outings, because he likes looking put together regardless of who else sees it.
He enjoys thinking about what pieces he'll wear where, pleased when seemingly disjointed items come together surprisingly well. It's fun to pick out his rings and bracelets for the day. A cute hat, some nice shoes.
The tiny gold Chrome Hearts drop earrings that he always puts on last, as if the last piece of his armor clicking into place before he steps outside.
He scans Minho up and down again, head tilted to the side considering. Goes to their vanity and rummages around, letting out a satisfied grunt when he manages to untangle the exact necklace he is looking for.
He twirls his pointer finger in the air, and Minho dutifully turns around.
Jisung presses against his back, delighting in the way the older's broad shoulders relax, and loops his hands around him to place the silver chain with two very distinctly stylized crosses around his neck. Admires the way the bright jewelry across the simple black shirt visible between the open sides of his jacket draws the eye to Minho's chest in the mirror.
It's not exactly the same as Jisung's, but he is wearing two different cross necklaces from Chrome Hearts as well, and it's matching in style just enough.
It always has to be, just enough, but not too much.
It was more acceptable when they were rookies, and the same designer items had to be re-worn by everyone in the group at one point or another, like the Brotherhood of Traveling Luxury Brand Jackets. Now that Stray Kids has hit their stride, and each member has more than enough fancy clothes whether bought or gifted, it's noticeable if any of them share.
Then it becomes a choice, more than a necessity.
It could be chalked up to living together, but the other roommate duos don't wear matching clothes and accessories like Jisung and Minho do. The way they have always done. Countless matching shirts, beanies, tank tops, caps in inverse colors. Always each other's yin and yang.
Because they make a choice to, every time.
The choice to split pairs of earrings for them to wear one each. The choice to almost miss a flight because they wanted to stop and buy volcanic stone bracelets with their birth stones on their way out of Jeju.
Jisung had loved those things. To have something they could call just theirs, when so many things were not, felt important enough that after Jisung's bracelet tragically snapped, Minho dragged him to get another sturdier matching beaded bracelet on their very next trip.
The sapphire he had saved from that first broken bracelet now sat next to Minho's old opal one still on its string, together on a display shelf in Jisung's room. Along with their cheap but priceless tangerine glasses, and all the other trinkets they've collected together on tour or gifted to each other after separate vacations over the years.
Minho likes nice clothes too, downy fabrics and pastel colors just as much as harsh silhouettes and black leather. He likes elegant necklaces, cool piercings. But for all his varied hobbies, his interests don't lie in fashion like Jisung's does.
Jisung is the one who fills their closet with twin items of different colors, intentionally. He let's people guess at that exact truth when they show up in them at different times, if not sometimes bold enough to wear them together.
Double cozy sherpa jackets in raven and maroon. Same numbered cargo pants in light and dark. Identical Boston bags in brown and black.
Wouldn't be easier if they just shared one? People would try and excuse it as one of them using the other's out of convenience since they live together. But where is the fun in that?
They might not know how much he relishes in dressing Minho. And that Minho enjoys being dressed and fawned over by Jisung in return. Putting on the things Jisung picks out with care and striking ridiculous poses in the mirror to make him laugh.
Sometimes it's not even twin articles, but gifts he buys for Minho alone that some fans immediately associate more with Jisung's style. Luxury streetwear, like a Satoshi Nakamoto shirt he got thinking it would look great stretched across Minho's pecs, when fans noticed Jisung wearing shoes from the same line earlier. Interesting Korean brands too, Amou hoodies and Not4Nerd sweatpants that he knows Minho would find comfortable to walk around or even dance in, when Jisung was spotted in their designs first.
The evidence stacks up, if one is looking for it. And Jisung looks. Dozens of pictures of them in paired clothes side by side shared online that he secretly saves in a folder for further inspiration.
A compilation of things he can't say out loud, but can hint at through soft fabric and shiny metal.
He presses a kiss on Minho's nape right over where he clasps the chain together and murmurs, "You don't look like a stalker, darling."
He steps around to face Minho instead of his pretty reflection and obnoxiously winks, "But if you were mine, I wouldn't mind."
Minho pinches at his waist, "Don't even joke about that."
Jisung watches his scary, and awfully stylish, stalker go to the vanity and throw on a few more random rings from their joint collection.
The most important one that Minho never takes off hiding in plain sight between all the other silver. He wiggles his cute little fingers in the air at Jisung.
"Everything look good, jagiya?"
Jisung doesn't say "Yes, yeobo" even though the word loudly clangs through his head every time he looks at Minho, and his eye catches on that shiny double banded ring on his pinky finger.
If he says it out loud even once, he'll slip up and say it somewhere again. God forbid in a live. The rest of the group will have to start jokingly calling each other yeobo to cover their ass, not that Changbin wouldn't revel in the opportunity, but it'll be a mess.
They are too grown to be scolded, but that won't stop the company.
It used to terrify him when he was younger, and it felt like everything they built could be snatched out of his hands at any moment. The slightest mistake Jisung made, in music or in love, potentially spelling doom for seven other boys.
It doesn't quite feel like that anymore. There are still days where the anxiety gets to him, like it's all a dream he'll wake up from to find himself alone and angry in front of a panel of judges again, but he shakes off the melancholy quicker. Experience of a more senior idol settles over his shoulders easier.
Jisung can wear more revealing tops to flash his tattoos at the right moments, can say provoking things during ments, and take the consequences on the chin prouder. Emboldened by the fact that Minho will widen his eyes and press an unsettling grin against his cheek, ready to back his soulmate up all the way. That the rest of their members will stand by them too no matter what.
But it doesn't mean there won't still be a few terse meetings about what's "plausible deniability" and what's a "scandal waiting to happen".
That's what both grates at and kind of thrills Jisung. Even behind closed doors with those in the know, they are something waiting to happen. Contingency plans and press statement drafts shifting in tone over the years, but never completely discarded.
Like Jisung and Minho are inevitable, like no one even questions the if anymore but the when.
It might not be for a few more years still, maybe not even for another decade.
There are people who are way past their idol days but still active in entertainment singing, acting, hosting, that people consider "such good friends" with their former group members. Constantly showing up in each other's lives and reality TV segments. The kind of open secret in the industry so obvious to everyone that it's not even worth the Dispatch article anymore.
He doesn't know what their lives will look like by then, though he imagines he'll still be making music and Minho will be dancing or teaching it. The rhythm is too strong in both of their blood, he can't imagine being completely away from it.
They will probably be living somewhere else without a decoy bedroom, hopefully have more pets, but they'll still be attached at the hip. Of that Jisung has no doubt.
It's not all just waiting for a nebulous future that changes its colors every other day in his fantasies though.
Jisung loves his life now, loves his job too. Being on stage, with his best friends, doing what he was born to do, is a high like no other.
He doesn't think of it as trading loving Minho openly for the fame of their group. He gets to have both. Why shouldn't he? They might not be able to show it in the exact way others approve of, but this life is theirs.
It has its unique challenges, but they are happy. Jisung can't actually remember if he's ever been happier, or more at peace with who he is and what he is doing.
He'd die for the incredible rush of performing on stage, the sheer joy of singing in front of thousands of people who shout his lyrics right back at him. The attention and love Stay pour out so easily when they talk about their music, when they understand his vision just the way he intended it even if he couldn't explain it in too many words.
But he'd live for the way after the adrenaline dies down he gets to go home and relax with the person he loves the most in the whole wide world. A cheerful smack on his butt telling him good job at the end of the day, a steady hand around his neck rubbing the tension away.
He doesn't feel deprived of anything. Doesn't view it as some grand sacrifice he's making. There is so much love surrounding him. Fans, friends, family.
And his best hyung.
Minho, his other half. Right across that long stage, for him to point at when a fan holds up a cheeky sign, something easy to dismiss as a joke. Across that short corridor between their rooms, hands warm and mouth even warmer, the realest sensation he knows.
Minho who looks at him the same way he did when they first met, all these years later. Still just as hungry, with single-minded focus, like nothing and no one else exists. He doesn't look at anyone else that way. And Jisung doesn't look back at anyone else with the same stars in his eyes, body folding towards the other the moment Minho's hand makes contact with him under the spotlights.
Aren’t unspoken truths still truths?
They aren't truly hiding, not that they were ever good at it.
Jisung can, somehow, control the urge to be plastered to Minho 24/7. He throws himself at the other members, exaggeratedly begs for kisses. The kind of fan-service that comes so easy when he enjoys friendly affection. Not any less real just because he's playing it up a little for the audience, but not the way love naturally bleeds out of him as soon as he's in Minho's orbit.
Minho is actually worse at it then him, constantly hovering a step behind, gaze intense as always. Sulking like an annoyed cat when others touch Jisung more than he can tolerate no matter who's watching. A proprietary hand on Jisung's waist, or more regularly his ass, where he thinks people can't see, even if everyone can assume.
Jisung watches all the edits he can find and thinks Yes, you see it, we are right here, it's real.
But the safety only remains as long as it's not real to everyone out there, not until one of them turns to the camera and says "We are together" like everything has to be spelled out explicitly all the time.
Like Jisung didn't look into that ever familiar recording red light and blurt out "We live together" in the same cadence he would have said "We are together". The closest he could have gotten away with. It might not have been much, but he still feels giddy every time he thinks about it.
In the present, in the very bedroom they share, his thumb crosses over his palm to scratch at the base of his own pinky finger, turns the ring with the little square pink stone.
Jisung doesn't wear his ring all the time. He is prone to fiddling with it too much, and is too afraid to lose it somewhere.
Minho is the one who doesn't take off his ring anymore besides to go to gym, shower or sleep. Or when they are dressed by the stylists before events.
He remembers when Minho came back from his Nylon Japan photoshoot with several new Boucheron pieces, but only one that he didn't take off days in a row. Which meant it wasn't just a gift from the brand he was working with, worn out of courtesy for some additional candid pictures, but something he chose to get for himself.
Jisung noticed, because he noticed everything about his hyung.
He looked it up, trawling through the catalogues online until he found the exact ring, and almost cried when he saw it was a "Godron Platinum Wedding Band".
On the wrong finger, for now. But the placement didn't change the intention. Minho didn't do things by accident.
He didn't even click out of the tab before running out of his room, almost falling flat on his face with mismatched socks sliding on the floor without a rug. He cornered Minho against the kitchen counter in the middle of making dinner, "Yes, by the way."
"Watch it— Yes to what, honey?"
Jisung grabbed Minho's left hand and kissed the junction where his pinky finger met his palm, fuller bottom lip pressed onto the skin warmed metal.
"You didn't ask, but I would have said yes."
Minho dropped the spoon in his other hand, flushing to the tips of his ears. His body always so honest.
"I just… saw it and thought of you. Of us. Wanted something. Tangible, I suppose."
Minho has never been insecure about their relationship.
Hyung knows who he is, what he wants. Such confidence despite his humility has always been something Jisung envied and appreciated in equal measure. A listening ear and a guiding light when Jisung didn't yet know who he wanted to be.
It isn't fun, technically lying about parts of their life, especially for someone who is as straightforward as Minho. But he always said it didn’t matter, that his parents knew, so did his closest friends which was the most important to him. He had known chosing to be a pro-idol that there would things he wouldn't be able to say or do openly.
Jisung is the one who is more prone to sentimental overtures, the wistful romantic. The one who still occasionally dreams about elaborate weddings when Minho would have run into a courthouse in between music shows if they could.
The location doesn't matter either though, Jisung would have cried either way.
He knows they can't get married, not even secretly in a country that allows it, cute as it could have been. There would always be witnesses, a necessary paper trail that they cannot risk. But Minho was right, it shouldn't matter. They don't need pieces of paper to tell them that this is it.
Till death do us part.
But he has always liked the idea of physical reminders. Friendship bracelets. Promise rings.
"Oh baby, I know." Jisung rubbed his thumb over the ring smiling, then slid his fingers though Minho's to swing their hands side to side with each word, "Well, you are basically a married man. Intellectually, emotionally, spiritually—"
"Why are you like this?"
"You love me. You wanna marry me—"
Minho pushed him off then, backed him up against the opposite counter. Kissed him with an inch of his life, a consummation of its own.
The very next day, sore but glowing, Jisung went out to buy a ring for himself.
For an engagement no one would be able to celebrate.
Searched for something that reminded him of Minho as soon as he saw it. He settled on a handmade Harang square-cut pink cat's eye gem ring. It was beautiful, the chatoyancy that created the optical illusion of a bright band of light like a cat's eye. He read later that the stone was supposed to strengthen intuition, bring good luck. A stone of love, of emotional healing. All things that resonated with how he felt about Minho's influence on him, wrapped in pretty pastel pink.
He almost bought a matching one in mint green, but decided perhaps there was such a thing called as being too obvious.
He didn't say anything either. Didn't ask the question he was tempted to blurt every morning when he opened his eyes, and Minho's sleepy face was right across from his already watching.
Falling down on his knees in front of Minho was the most natural state of things. In dark and cramped backstages, where they can't even see anything. In spacious hotel rooms, more and more fancy over the years as they got more successful.
In his personal studio with the low mood lighting, in their kitchen that gets sunlight just right in the early afternoons.
For this he could have knelt anywhere, but it was because he couldn't that he chose not to. Chose to wait instead. For the day he would be able to ask even on the street, put the ring on the right finger this time. Maybe that's exactly what Minho had been thinking too when he didn't ask. They had always been in sync.
So Jisung just kept wearing his ring, on his pinky finger just like his not-husband. Wondering if the thing could possibly fit on Minho's ring finger too since his hands were smaller. Minho looked at him so softly when he noticed the repetition, cheeks bunching up with the force of his bunny-toothed smile.
Wearing the rings they bought for each other but couldn't exchange on their own hands is a convoluted way of showing their dedication. But idol life is convoluted. They are used to it by now.
He wasn't always good at separating Han the artist and Jisung the person. Distinguishing what parts of his life he wanted to showcase, which moments he needed to protect. He has gotten better at hiding his most vulnerable flesh, sharing funny anecdotes people can easily dismiss as close friends being silly but still showing pieces of who he is deep down.
Because he does want people to know him. In his lyrics. In his jokes. In his fashion.
Jisung doesn't have any restrictive contracts so he can do what he likes, and he tries to be deliberate with his own styling. The companies he chooses to buy from, that he'd like to use again and again over the years. Brands that even if not explicitly queer, alternative enough with their designs and messages that people like him flock to.
A shared silent language in style.
He reads more, learns more, follows other artists. His own style is an ever evolving thing, jumping from aesthetic to aesthetic the way his songs switch genres when the inspiration strikes.
Gray coats paired with fuzzy hats or sleek sunglasses. Colorful cardigans that shows off his wider shoulders, loose button down shirts that accentuate his silhouette when the light goes through the fabric just right. Puffy sports jackets and sneakers. A simple tank top but bedazzled pants low on his hips.
Complement and contrast.
Brief as the walks are at the airport, it's no one's runway but his own, and he has fun with it.
Today is no different.
While Minho does the final checks around the house, because Jisung will ask "Wait did we leave the stove on?" five minutes after they leave even though they didn't even cook anything today, Jisung goes to his room to get his bag.
And say goodbye to Richard. Again.
Minho leans against his doorway arms crossed when he concludes his tour, "You already said goodbye to her three times last night. Quite tearfully I might add."
Jisung sniffs, just for dramatics and definitely not because he might have a cold, "Do you think she'll miss me? Oh god, what if she's mad her daddies abandoned her when we get back?"
"We'll only be gone for a few days. And Jooyeon will take excellent care of her, you know that."
Jisung had briefly considered asking Seungmin to come by and feed her, but the other was on strict rest. Besides he couldn't be sure Seungmin wouldn't somehow worm his way into Richard's good graces, just to brag about how he was liked better than her actual step-dad if nothing else. They couldn't risk it.
And he hadn't wanted to give a key to a manager either. It wasn't out of the ordinary for staff to come and go into the dorms before, but that was when they were younger and needed more supervision. When their rooms felt like shared spaces still and not a private home.
Neither Jisung nor Minho were okay with just anyone being able to fully see into their sanctuary anymore.
So, Jooyeon would be dropping by to check on Richard. There were detailed instructions in Minho's unique handwriting on a notepad on the kitchen counter, and a post-it with the most important bullet points Jisung wrote including "Tell her Jisung loves her" taped to the side of her terrarium. He will probably still pester his friend through text whenever he gets a chance, in case Richard is in a good enough mood to appear for a picture.
"It'll be fine, jagi. She's the most spoiled lizard on this side of the planet."
He gasps scandalized, "So you think there are lizards more spoiled than her on the other side of the planet?"
Minho blinks at him twice then huffs out a surprised little laugh, which had been Jisung's entire goal. A little pick me up for the road. He flutters his own eyelashes back preening. Richard can't blink, because she has no eyelids, but she flicks her tongue against her eye like she is in on the conversation.
"You look alike you know," Minho bends down and presses a kiss against the skull studded cap Jisung put on minutes ago, "My two wide eyed pretty princesses. Now come on, get your pretty ass up. We need to leave soon."
Jisung puts his shoes on and decides to forgo a jacket. It's hot out today, and he runs warm anyway. The planes get pretty chilly but they'll have those scratchy blankets, or he'll just borrow Minho's jacket. Tuck his nose into the collar where Minho's new fruity perfume will lull him into a nap, and return it before they de-board and get caught.
Minho is by the door, grabbing a bottle of that medicinal drink from the box there to put in his bag, which he definitely won't be able to finish before they have to go through security. Jisung will drink half of it for him, and giggle about indirect kisses like they are high school boys with crushes and not in their late twenties almost together for a decade.
The older puts away his phone after a final check, "The car should be here in five."
Plenty of time. Jisung presses him against the wall, right next to their twin suitcases waiting in the hallway, in different colors. Those were just on a buy one get two sale actually, not a couple's statement.
Minho skillfully dodges the incoming, very much direct, kiss.
"Aw come on, we won't have any privacy for like the next 20 hours, jagi. Can't I just make out with my huuuusband a little?"
Jisung hasn't bothered shaving for the last couple days while recuperating at home since he'll have to groom once they land anyway, but it's not like anyone would be able to see the stubble burn when Minho never bothers lowering his mask for reporters or fan-sites while they are traveling.
"We aren't legally married—"
"Semantics."
"—and it's because you are sick, idiot. Can you imagine the meltdown if I so much as clear my throat after you cough?"
Minho pushes his head away with one hand squishing his cheeks, and rummages in his jacket pocket with the other until Jisung hears the crinkle of something. Then a lozenge is pushed into his mouth. Minho's fingers remain pressed to his mouth for a moment longer, eyes expectant. He actually looks tempted to pinch Jisung's lips together as if the younger is one of his unruly cats prone to spitting their medicine out.
Instead of laughing Jisung obediently sucks on the cough drop, "Oh. Mm. Honey lemon. I like these ones."
"I know."
He can hear more wrapper noises when Minho stuffs his hand back in his pocket. Little pieces of his partner's quiet but attentive care, that warms him from the inside out. Makes his eye water and throat tingle more than the menthol.
"Thank you, Hyung." Baby, darling, jagiya, yeobo—
"You're welcome, Han-ah."
They walk out the door hand in hand. Jisung doesn't let go of Minho's hand in the car either, rings occasionally clinking together, until they have to step out at the airport entrance.
New York is always nice.
Not that Jisung will have a chance to walk around and take in any sights besides the inside of their hotel until after the festival. He sends quick arrival messages to their fans on Bubble, and takes a few mirror selfies for Instagram because his outfit is too cute to waste, before hopping in the shower to wash hours of travel off.
Him and Minho don't officially room together. There will be SKZ-Talkers filmed during the entire Governors Ball trip, including moments in the hotel pre and post-show, but everyone knows they will sneak into each others' rooms when the cameras turn off.
Jisung sprawls over Minho's bed already in his comfy pajamas, while the other is taking his own shower. He absentmindedly scrolls through Twitter, laughing at every zoomed in picture of the rings on their hands. Of their not quite matching cross necklaces.
More pictures re-shared from previous times they were caught wearing the same items, each occasion Jisung fondly remembers.
He knows it's a precious thing that there is so much record of their relationship, at least the public facets of it, over the years. Even moments Jisung himself forgot, between the nerves of those early performances and just the general chaos of being on stage, immortalized digitally. Years later, when his own memory of now grows fuzzier, he'll get to see everything again just a click away.
Being perceived so much the way they are isn't a light weight to carry, but there are some parts of it he has come to appreciate.
Moments tucked into yet another secret folder, and his heart, to look back on fondly.
It's the small things. Declarations made in accessories to no one but to each other. And apparently half their fanbase, who have a sharp eye for fashion and are prone to romanticism. Jisung's kind of people.
Minho comes out of the bathroom in a billow of steam and nothing but a towel around his hips. And his ring. Like he put it on by habit as soon as he was out of the shower instead of forgetting it on the marble counter. Like Jisung did earlier in an identical room.
Jisung tosses his phone to the side and sits up by the edge, making grabby hands in the air until Minho stands right in front of him so he can touch his shower-warm damp skin.
"What have you been giggling at, hm?" Minho rubs a thumb over his throat, which is doing fine thank you, then tickles under Jisung's chin eliciting even more laughter, "I heard you even through the water."
"Our fans," Jisung presses his grin into Minho's stomach, valiantly battling the urge to take a bite out of the soft flesh, "Did you know they think we secretly got married?"
A gentle hand cards through his own still slightly damp hair, it's getting longer.
"You wish."
Jisung does. He has married Minho a million times in his head. In every country they traveled to on tour, on every holiday or special occasion at home. In love songs he hasn't been able to record yet, in sappy fanfics he denies reading to this day.
"They think these are our engagement rings," he links their pinkies together. And Minho bends his wrist to complete the gesture with a press of their thumbs.
It's always been a promise. Rings or not.
"How astute. Sometimes our fans are scary intuitive."
While Minho gets dressed for bed, which is a generous statement as he only puts on a skimpy piece of underwear, Jisung keeps reading him the posts.
"Hah. This one says 'minsung has never been more real let’s all live'." Thank you. Scroll.
"Just string of crying and heart emojis with the pictures of our rings from their websites— ah, they got mine wrong though." Someone will find the correct one soon. Scroll.
"Wait— oh, no this one's about my hair. I don't think Stay can eat all the scissors in the world."
"They should," Minho finally settles behind him. Chin hooked over his shoulder so Jisung can show him his screen better, with all the pictures of their clothes and accessories in high definition.
"Look, look, this person attached a screenshot from your last interview. 'Do you have any jewelry that you treasure deeply and have been wearing for a long time? My favorite is a ring that I can wear casually in my every day life.'"
Jisung snorts, "Casually, he says. Hyungie, you haven't been casual a single day in your life."
Not about Jisung at least. Not since their eyes met for the first time across a sweaty training room eight years ago.
Minho shows how serious he is about them every chance he gets, in his own peculiar way. Though there are moments in private when his hyung, who is usually so self-assured and blunt, grows shy and embarrassed.
A more tender Minho who tucks his blush hot face into Jisung neck and whispers, "I do though, treasure it deeply. You know that, right?"
His breath ghosting across Jisung's skin tickles. Water seeps into his ratty sleep shirt from Minho's wet hair which is sure to annoy him later. Jisung is so, so in love.
He turns his face to land a clumsy kiss on the side of Minho's head, "I do."
I do, I do, I do.
Matching black and white tuxes, a real wedding picture he can keep. Pink and green flowers on every table, an assortment of their favorite desserts instead of one big cake. Ridiculous toasts from their family, blood and found through a shared dream.
Someday.
Tonight, it's just Jisung and Minho in yet another city across the ocean, playing around on their phones until they have to turn in, too tired to do anything but snuggle in the wide hotel bed. Flights this long are always draining but Jisung wasn't feeling his best in the first place, and they need all the rest they can get before the performance tomorrow.
He's looking forward to it though, festivals have a unique energy and he loves the hyped up crowds. He's gonna bring his all, the way he always does.
He leans over to plug his phone and turn off the bedside lamp while Minho does the same on his side. When they meet in the middle again Minho rolls him around to hug into his chest, and slips a thigh between Jisung's legs. An arm thrown over his waist, the hand moving slower and slower over his stomach as sleep takes them both under.
He's sure the post-show energy will carry them into desecrating several surfaces in this room, or Jisung's, later but for now this is enough.
They are both still wearing the rings.
They won't tomorrow for the concert, too unrelated with their stage outfits, too dangerous to loose with all the jumping around.
They don't take them off for bed though.
At least not for tonight.