Archive of Our Own

Minho could already tell that his arm was bound to become sore by morning ― but his head was pounding, throbbing with an unexplainable pain that only worsened throughout what seemed like a never-ending array of schedules that they had to go through that day.

He nuzzled his nose closer into the warm juncture of his elbow, stare fixated onto the small screen of his phone, brightness a little too high for his comfort. He didn’t have it in him to move even one single inch though, so he simply squinted his eyes, ignoring the familiar sting he got whenever he spent one too many hours awake, time passing unknowingly as he let whatever side of YouTube he came across that night on autoplay.

It was unlike him, as he would often even pride himself with his actually functional sleeping schedule. But there were also those moments when he could only do so much as toss around until eventually settling for a somewhat cosy position, blankets hazardously thrown around him, one leg kicking out of them, hands bunched up around one of the multitude of pillows he had laying on his bed and bloodshot eyes wide open ― then the process would start from the beginning, Minho tossing and turning and cursing under his breath and wanting nothing more than to just sleep .

It was one of those nights again, only Seungmin’s quiet snoring blended with the muffled background music coming from his phone’s speakers cutting right through the otherwise silent room. 

He pouted to himself, letting out a frustrated huff as he finally decided that it would be a good idea to lift his head off his numb arm. He tried to shake out the tingly sensation that surged through his muscles, but to no avail. He plopped himself carelessly on his stomach, propping up his phone against the cat plush toy he had brought with him from his last visit home. His thumb hovered above the search bar, mind raking through possible ideas of videos he could watch, as he somehow managed to end up with some clips from a French interior design related show, that he barely understood anything from.

“Hyung?” 

His head jerked towards the side of his bed, a shadowy figure barely visible through the black fabric of his curtain. Minho’s idle fingers carefully pushed it aside, only to be met by Jisung’s wistful smile, cheeks bunched up and a sheepish look written all across his face.

“Jisungie?” he breathed out airly, slightly tilting his head to the side. For them, it usually was the other way round, with Minho slipping inside the younger’s bedroom at night and greeting him with a quick flick of his wrist before he was already draped out across his pig plushie, cuddling close next to it while Jisung continued working on whatever song he was composing, or going onto one of his usual National Geographic marathons.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jisung supplied guiltily, “My earphones broke earlier this morning and Jeongin’s snoring way too fucking loudly.” he shuddered with a grunt. 

Minho couldn’t help himself from laughing, shaking his head at Jisung’s grimace. He scooted to the other side of the bed, until his back was pressed up against the cold expanse of the wall, “Come here, you big baby.” he patted the empty spot next to him.

Jisung scoffed, though commenting no further as he unceremoniously threw himself onto the limited empty space Minho had created for him, shuffling underneath the covers with a smug curve forming at the corners of his lips. The elder watched him as he tried to suppress his smile, eyes trailing along the exposed skin of Jisung’s collarbones, where his oversized t-shirt had fallen loosely, tousled hair sprawled messily across the white of his sheets, cheek bunching up lazily where his face was squished up against the mattress. 

He was quick to avert his gaze, rolling onto his back and resuming to stare back up at the upper-bunk, unoccupied as Chan must have long gone to Felix and Changbin’s shared bedroom instead. The faint sound of someone talking still played in the background, YouTube video now already forgotten as Minho could only concentrate on how close Jisung’s body felt next to his, on how he could feel the hotness of his breath against his exposed skin, where he could swear the slightest drops of cold sweat began to form. 

He was so close, that he was sure if he dared turn his head, they would easily find each other only few centimeters apart, noses touching and knees pressed together underneath the blacovers ― but Minho was a coward, so he was only left to look up at the bottom of Chan’s mattress without another word.

Jisung was right there besides him, and yet he never felt further away ― just barely there, right out of his reach, like the most precious of things falling out of the fearful grasp of his trembling fingers.

“I’m hungry.” Jisung declared out loud, already occupying himself with his attempts of hogging Minho’s side of the blanket. 

The latter could only do as much as snort, watching Jisung from the corner of his eye, “And what do you expect me to do about that?”

Jisung pretended to think for a moment, bottom lip jutting out and index finger tapping slowly against his chin, before he broke into a final grin, “How about you cook me some ramen?” 

“When did I become your personal cook, huh, Han Jisung? I cooked you ramen the other morning already!" he whisper-shouted, sock-clad foot prodding at his shin.

Jisung barely put any effort into hiding his smug grin, as he kicked Minho back, legs tangling together, “You know I only said it as a joke, then.” he said pointedly. He had only just woken up, earlier than usual, bumping into an equally as tired Minho while on his way to the bathroom. The older provided nothing more than a simple I’m making breakfast , to which Jisung playfully retorted that he should prepare some for him as well ( “Come on, hyung, don’t you want to do something nice for your favourite dongsaeng today?” ). It wasn’t unexpected that he was simply met with an unimpressed glare, and a slur of words muttered underneath his breath ( “Who said you were my favourite?” ). 

What Jisung didn’t expect was coming back into the kitchen, wet towel wrapped around his neck, hair only half dried, where Minho stood hovering above the small wooden table they bought on a whim from one of the smaller furniture stores when they saw that it was on sale, back craned as he dug into his food, another bowl full of ramen and a pair of chopsticks which seemed only recently washed placed neatly right in front of the opposite chair from him. 

“That means you must like me a lot. Are you like― obsessed with me or something, hyung?” Jisung laughed cheekily.

“I think about you every single day and night. I eat, and the first thought that crosses my mind is you. I can’t even go outside without wondering about where you are and what you are doing.” Minho deadpanned, lips pressed in a firm line. In the end, he finally broke into a loop-sided smirk of his own, eyebrows raised playfully, “The one obsessed here would be you, though, Jisungie. Always asking me to do things for you like that, it’s as if you can’t get enough of me.” he tsked, arm reaching out to take a hold of his phone and finally shut it off, Jisung’s features now undecipherable in the darkness the small dormitory was drowned into.

 Jisung sputtered incredulously, “How is that even supposed to work?” he said as he propped himself up on his elbow, staring down at Minho with a look of disbelief.

“You tell me.” he shrugged, tossing his phone to the other side of the bed, “Now if you’re done being a pest, go and make your own ramen.” Minho leaned closer to the younger boy, nudging his shoulder, strong enough only to budge. 

“But, hyung,” Jisung whined with an exaggerated sigh, fully standing up on his knees to stare down at Minho, both hands placed upon his chest dramatically, “no ramen in this world is better than yours.”

“Are you really trying to bribe me into cooking you food by boosting my ego?” Minho quirked a challenging eyebrow at him, blinking slowly.

Jisung’s lips broke into a smile, and Minho had to internally curse himself for letting his heart skip yet another beat, “Is it working?” he asked.

Minho supplied no verbal answer, instead only sitting up. The younger was quick to catch up on his actions, face completely overtaken by a grin of achievement. His hands balled into fists as he let out a small cheer and rolled out of Minho’s bed with a huff.

“You are something else, Han Jisung, did you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you very much.” Jisung whipped his head around and stuck his tongue out at him, Minho’s hand coming into gentle contact with his butt in retaliation. 

They slowly made their way outside of the bedroom, careful not to wake the two other boys up, sound asleep and unaware of their presence. Jisung even went as far as tiptoeing across the floor, which caused Minho to breathily laugh at the younger boy’s antics. 

He chose to ignore the tightness that formed in his chest, and the way that his headache had long become forgotten, or the fact that he was embarrassingly fast to take notice of how Jisung was sporting mismatched fuzzy socks, gray sweatpants that he must have been wearing for over a week by then, which have characteristically ridden up enough to reveal the smoothness of his sun-kissed calves, where he could make out the faint contour of a faded childhood scar, or how his―

Nope. He certainly didn’t notice any of that.

He pulled up the hood of his sweater, feet dragging against the wooden floor indolently, Jisung presumably already having reached the kitchen. With no warning, he felt a quick jab in his shoulder, the unexpected commotion nearly causing him to double over.

Before he had the time to say anything, eyebrows furrowing together as he looked up at the person he had bumped into, Felix’s familiar teddy-bear pyjama pants came into his peripheral vision. The younger boy was standing in front of him with a sleepy look on his face, eyes nearly closed as his hand barely gripped the half-full glass he held to his chest, “Yongbokkie? What are you doing up?”

“Water.” he explained, as if it was the answer to all questions. There was a heavy lilt to his voice, deep Australian accent slurred from the heaviness of complete and utter exhaustion, evident in the way his shoulders slumped. 

Minho hummed with a small smile, while he reached out to ruffle Felix’s blond locks ― they had been getting rather long recently, “Get some rest, okay?” 

Felix only nodded, mumbling a quiet okay, before he already was strolling down the hall towards his own room, with Minho’s eyes watching him silently before he could no longer make out the contour of his figure. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand once he heard the light click of a door being shut close.

When he arrived into the kitchen, it came as no surprise to him to already see Jisung perched up on his tiptoes, hand blindly searching through their cupboards, almost one step away from climbing up on the counter. But he knew him too well to already be aware of the fact that he wouldn’t actually do that, his pride and dignity too big to do such thing. Especially not when Minho watched him with amusement, back propped up against the door frame and arms crossed over his chest.

“I bet you’re enjoying this right now.” Jisung mumbled, cheeks puffed out in frustration, as he blindly tried to raise his arm even higher. 

He watched the slope of his nose, softly scrunched up in determination, a sheer stripe of skin exposed from the way his t-shirt was lifted up, uncombed strands of hair falling messily onto his forehead. There was a faint glimmer somewhere in the inkling darkness of his eyes, reflecting the moonlight filtered through the small space that their made-up curtain couldn’t quite reach. 

Minho had no way of describing him other than beautiful , so painfully beautiful, in his most familiar of ways ― he had always known that, something a little out of this world hiding behind the gentle curve of his lips and the flush coating the apples of his cheeks, behind the slight crook of his pinky finger and the scattered moles covering the entirety of his body which he was sure he could trace the contour of constellations out of, or perhaps behind the way his voice always went an octave higher whenever he became enthusiastic about something and the warmth of his hugs that always lingered a second too long.

And he was right there, within an arm’s reach. He could feel him at the very tips of his fingers.

He stuffed his fidgeting hands in the pockets of his hoodie, willing the frantic beating of his heart to cease, “Oh, I surely am.” he teased, laughing at Jisung sticking his tongue out at him, “Continue to entertain me, court jester.”

“If I weren’t in the middle of something extremely important right now―” Jisung threatened, with no real bite to his tone.

Minho scoffed, raising his eyebrows cheekily, “Ohh, I am so scared. Please have mercy on me.” he drawled, walking until his chest was nearly pressed right up against Jisung’s back. His face morphed into something a little like a glower, more so of confusion rather than anything, as he peered over the younger’s shoulder, “Are you sure there is any ramen left?”

Jisung immediately turned around, still on his tiptoes, the extra few centimeters his stance added to his height making them almost equally as tall, “Hyung,” he began seriously, “we are eight men, in their early twenties, living in a one hundred square meters apartment, with no sleeping schedules and with practically no free time. Not having ramen is impossible.” he stated sternly, with no place left for argument.

“Well, it is possible.” Minho said simply, “I saw Hyunjin eating some before we went to that photoshoot, it might have been the last pack for all we know.” he added with a careless shrug of his shoulders, “That’s the only place we keep ramen in, so if it’s not there then it isn’t anywhere else either.”

Jisung stared up at Minho, unamused, the frown on his face quickly dispersing into a small pout, “Let’s go and buy some then.” he added, words coming out just above a whine, as he stared at the older boy expectantly.

Minho’s eyes might as well have bulged right out of his head, not quite understanding whether he truly was serious or merely poking some fun at him to hide his own disappointment, “Let’s go and buy some― Jisung, are you hearing yourself right now?” he gaped at the younger, who in return offered no sign that he was joking.

“Some ramen. Let’s go and buy some ramen. There’s that 7-eleven at the end of the street, pretty sure they’re still opened.” he countered while nodding, self-assured, as if it was the most usual thing for him to say.

“Sungie, it’s literally,” he glanced towards the bright red numbers displayed on the small microwave barely just next to them, “almost one in the morning.”

“And?” Jisung asked, not once looking away at anything other than Minho, as if he was soaking into the look of disbelief painted all across his face.

Minho’s eyes widened, “And it’s late! We should be sleeping right now, not,” his hands moved with agitated gestures, “go to the convenience store for ramen. At one in the morning.” he stumbled over his words, sputtering as Jisung simply brushed right past him, shoulders bumping while the younger strided outside of the kitchen.

“Han Jisung!” he whisper-shouted after him, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He rushed after him and into the living room, where the younger was already zipping up his vest over his denim jacket, a satisfied hum leaving his lips. 

“Sung-ah, you can’t be serious right now.” Minho gawked at him.

Jisung responded by smoothing out his hair underneath his beanie and securing the fluffy scarf around his neck, “Why wouldn’t I be?” he feigned innocence, padding in all his bundled up glory down towards the entrance door.

“Are you listening to yourself right now?” 

“Of course I am, hyung. And if you think about it, I’m doing you a service.” he argued as he put on his sneakers, stuffing in his shoelaces lazily, “If everybody else woke up tomorrow and noticed there was no ramen, you or Changbin-hyung would have to walk all the way to the store before your brain even properly wakes up.”

And with that, he was gone, one last grin before he easily slipped through the door, shutting it as quietly as possible behind him.

Minho blinked, once, twice, three times, weariness forgotten as he stood silently in the middle of the living room, staring across the end of the hall. He let out a shaky breath, seconds counted in his head as he waited for Jisung to walk back inside and continue with his complaints while they snacked on whatever leftovers they found when rummaging through the refrigerator, watching some cheap horror movie off whatever sketchy-looking website popped up first in the search bar. 

All he wanted was to go back to his bed, resume his obscure YouTube videos marathon to which he paid at least less than half of his full attention to, and at least pretend that he was on the verge of lulling himself to sleep.

But no. Han Jisung just had to want fucking ramen, the only thing they did not have.

Not once would he have thought, when he returned from dance practice that evening, that barely a few hours later he would find himself in a position as such ― yet there he was, old baggy sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hoodie two-sizes too large bunching up uncomfortably underneath a long puffer jacket he grabbed on a whim, not even sure if it was one of his own or if one of the members have accidentally thrown it across his clothing rack in a hurry.

“Minho-hyung? Where are you going?”

Already recognizing Felix’s voice, groggy and rasp at the edges, he put no effort into looking up at the younger boy while he squinted his eyes, trying to at least properly tie the shoelaces of his boots.

“Jisung is an idiot.” he supplied with a scoff, to which Felix hummed in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, but you’d still risk your entire life for him.” Felix laughed, innocently, and in a matter of seconds his feet were shuffling towards the direction of the bathroom, long cotton pants dragging across the floor quietly.

Minho’s movements stilled, that same, previous tightness taking its rightful place at the pit of his chest yet again. He could feel the distant thrum of his blood rushing to the expanse of his neck unannounced.

You’d still risk your entire life for him.

He swallowed dryly, resorting to stuffing the tangled shoelaces inside his combat boots, just like Jisung did earlier. He was quick to jump onto his feet and walk outside of their shared apartment, making sure to lock the door behind him.

If the way he was desperately searching through his pockets for even the smallest of coins he could find, as he carelessly skipped every two stairs that came in his way, nearly tripping more times than he would admit, was anything to go by, then yeah ― he would. 

In a heartbeat. No questions asked.

He was mindlessly counting the money he managed to fish out of the untidy depths of his coat ― yet again, hopefully it was his ― that he barely took any notice that he already had made it to the reception of the apartment complex, a frigid breeze grazing at the exposed nape of his neck and hearty laughter coming right from ahead of him. 

“Hi, hyung!” Jisung beamed brightly, disheveled hair sticking out from underneath his beanie, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that almost left Minho’s weak little heart breathless.

“Thought you’d have made it to the store by now.” Minho huffed out, genuine confusion in his words.

“Wanted to wait for you, that’s all.” he said it like it was the easiest thing, already twirling around on his heels and towards the exit, leaving an even more bewildered Minho to stroll behind him quietly.

Only when he caught glimpse on the playful upturn of Jisung’s lips did he finally figure out what the younger meant, two and two put together with the way he left no place for further questions. Minho groaned in disbelief, fist coming into contact with Jisung’s shoulder as he hit him, the action still soft regardless of his ever-growing glare.

The younger yelped in surprise, jumping to the side and already putting both his hands up in retaliation, ready to spare back at any moment. The smug grin on his face had not once faded away as he threw a fake punch in Minho’s way, the older avoiding it with ease.

Jisung burst into laughter, Minho left to gawk at him incredulously, “You― you’re really testing my patience, Han Jisung, did you know that?” he sighed, bringing his coat closer around his slightly shivering body. 

“You really do like me a little too much, hm? I knew you couldn’t leave me all by myself, no money and on the verge of starvation, roaming the empty streets of Seoul with nobody to turn to.” he said with a dramatic lilt, putting his hand to his chest and gripping the thick fabric of his vest.

Minho scoffed, “So all I am to you is a walking money-bank now?” 

“Precisely.” Jisung said, leaning onto Minho’s side and sneakily circling the older boy’s arm with his own. 

Minho blinked again, clearing his throat and looking to the other side of the road, illuminated only by the same orange tint of the streetlights. Jisung’s grip had not once lessened, if anything the two only gravitated closer towards each other as they stumbled messily in tandem. Silence fell between them, save for the occasional tire scrunch across the pavement and the continuous squeak coming from Jisung’s platform converse, which he, for some reason, deemed as perfectly reasonable for the freezing cold winter weather.

He held back his smile, because that was the most Jisung thing that one could ever do, so he had no idea why it ever came as a shock to him anymore.

He basked into the quietude of the night, which somehow found itself more and more apparent in their lives ― they had moments when they wouldn’t do anything more than lounge on the couch together, whatever psychological thriller anime Jisung was watching playing in the background, sound lowered almost to zero, while Minho read one of his newer literary acquisitions as Jisung busied himself with tapping aggressively on his phone, words over words flowing naturally. Or when Jisung would shuffle tiredly into the kitchen, chin resting gently atop of Minho’s turned shoulder as he carefully stirred the boiling vegetables, raising the spoon to Jisung’s waiting lips and receiving nothing more in return than a satisfied hum and an encouraging thumbs up, before he already was dragging himself back to the confinements of his bedroom, leaving Minho with that same fluttering sentiment deep within his chest and with the lingering wish that he would have stayed there, with him, for a minute or too longer. There also were the times when they would cuddle into each other’s sides, whenever whoever was responsible that day forgot to turn the heating on, listening to whatever song came on shuffle while they shared the same pair of earbuds, saying nothing, simply just enjoying each other’s presence.

It was nice. Comfortable, in a way Minho has never experienced with anybody else, ever before in his life.

That must have meant something, right? No matter how much he always dismissed the thought nearly as fast as it came.

He could hear Jisung trying to stifle a yawn, as he huddled up to him, their thighs brushing with almost every move from the moment they turned at the corner, the large 7-eleven sign coming into view ― it felt a little too fast, but Minho had to remind himself that the store was only five minutes away from their dorm building. 

Still . He didn’t feel quite ready to let go of Jisung yet, already missing the warmth radiating off his body coddled underneath what could approximately be counted as at least four different layers of clothing before it was even gone. 

“Hyung-ah?” Jisung breathed out softly.

“Hm?”

“I wanted to say thank you.” he continued, peering from behind his tousled mop of hair up at Minho, “For coming with me, I mean.”

“Ah, so now you decide that I deserve some thank you’s, huh?” he retorted, but with one better look at Jisung’s bashful expression, he quickly caught on that his gratitude was genuine, “You know there’s nothing to thank me for. Even though you did technically abduct me―”

“I didn’t do anything, you came after me out of your own free will!” Jisung defended himself.

“Because I know you wouldn’t survive without me for longer than five minutes. Ten if you’re lucky.” Minho countered, as they walked across the empty parking lot, weather gradually becoming a little foggier than the weathercast he read in a rush earlier that morning, before they were already hurried into the black minivans waiting for them at the front of their apartment building, predicted.

“Stop acting all macho, you wouldn’t survive without me either. I’d give you fifteen minutes at max, just because I’m feeling generous today.” 

Jisung was right ― he wouldn’t, he most certainly wouldn’t, words left unspoken between the two of them, as Minho didn’t have to voice such thoughts for them to already be aware of the truth they held.

The rest of the walk they spent it in the same silence from before, welcoming and reassuring, until Jisung suddenly halted in his steps, dragging Minho with him, tumbling back into his chest at the unexpected stop. 

“I didn’t mean it only for tonight.” the younger began carefully, a slight flush creeping up the base of his neck, “I meant it for all the other times you went with me to the store, for midnight snacks or whatever.” he mumbled the last few parts, voice drifting off as his small hand travelled down Minho’s arm, fingers curling into the sleeve of his jacket and clinging onto it tightly, “So, yeah― thank you. That’s all.” he finished off his spontaneous speech, as his eyes finally met Minho’s own, a certain shyness in them that the latter couldn’t recognize lying beneath the galaxies he held in them.

Sometimes he found himself wondering how long it would take him to count all the stars in Jisung’s eyes, to memorize every single wrinkle at the corners whenever he smiled so bright that he, in a lack of better words coming from the parts of his mind that he would much rather keep to himself whenever he laid awake at night with nothing else to do, or other times whenever it was three in the afternoon and they were in the the middle of vocal practice ― it went both ways, truly ―, could put the literal fucking sun out of business.

“Again, don’t thank me.” Minho brushed it off with a shake of his head, “I know you don’t like going out in the dark alone.” he added, earning a nudge from Jisung. He didn’t need any explanation to know that that was just his way of showing affection whenever he was flustered about something.

He’d keep that in his thoughts, for some other time later.

“Now let’s go and get some ramen. I’m starving.” Jisung lamented, tightening his hold on Minho’s sleeve, his attitude flipping right back around in seconds.

He could only hope that the fondness in his smile wasn’t visible, underneath the flickering lights of the old 7-eleven that had been there ever since he could remember, numb fingers from the cold finding Jisung’s wrist and wrapping it around it comfortably as he tried to catch up with him.

“Hyung, do you think we could also get chocolate? As a sign of eternal love and appreciation for your favourite person in the world.”

“Keep testing me and I’ll leave you outside to freeze.”

―

“Nacho Cheese,” Jisung trailed off, “or Roasted Chicken?” he asked, putting up the two bags of Doritos he held in each hand, moving them around to catch Minho’s attention. who was too occupied with figuring out if they had enough money to pay at least for the packs of ramen without him wasting all of his monthly savings ― the jacket turned out to be his own after all, he concluded as he noticed the familiar logo stitched to the front ―, or if they had no other choice than make a run for it.

Not the best option, but with the way Jisung kept throwing pack after pack of snacks in the little shopping cart Minho’s worn out arms pulled with little enthusiasm, it seemed like it was the only one left.

He couldn’t say no to Jisung though, despite how hard he tried to keep up his front and deny it. Sue him, it wasn’t his fault he had a weak heart.

“Roasted Chicken.” Minho answered.

Jisung wrinkled his nose, a disgruntled gasp leaving his lips as he threw the bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos along the rest in the cart, “Full offense, but who the fuck chooses Roasted Chicken over Nacho Cheese? Who chooses Roasted Chicken over anything?”

“Why would you ask me then if you already knew what you wanted to get!” Minho shot back, reaching for the package of Roasted Chicken Doritos, snatching it right out of Jisung’s grasp, and throwing it along with the rest of their so-called grocery. He did it more so out of animosity, rather than anything, not wanting to back down from their new-found banter-worthy argument. 

“You― you can’t tell me you like Roasted Chicken. Like, willingly.” Jisung gaped at Minho, flailing his arms around as he gripped the bag back and put it next to the others on the shopping rack.

“Why else would I like it?” Minho directly looked at him as his hand already found the same poor bag of chips, letting it reclaim its place along with the rest of their snacks, “If I have to suffer you and your stupid Nacho Cheese doritos then you will also have to suffer my own.”

“Unbelievable!” Jisung exclaimed with a heave, loud enough for the old lady behind the counter to eye the two boys questioningly. Minho bowed his head politely, a little exaggerated to make up for Jisung’s apparent lack of manners ( he whispered to the boy as much while scurrying him off to one of the aisles in the back, ignoring his rambling about how his taste in Dorito flavors was just as bad as his taste in anime villains. Minho would remember that for a different time ).

“Our soulmate bond is broken, by the way.” Jisung scowled at him, “All because of you.”

“One, we’ve already been over this for the past five minutes, so now please move your ass over here and help me decide on what ramen to buy― because, if I may remind you, this is what we came here for in the first place.” Minho argued back, squinting his eyes as he tried to read the small writing on the ramen packages, as the realization that his glasses had been left behind at their dorm from the very beginning only then hit him.

Jisung said nothing, hesitantly bending down next to Minho and looking through the different flavors displayed on the racks, scanning for the usual ones they would go for whenever they indulged themselves some well-deserved midnight snacking. Minho felt their elbows touch each others’ gently, for just one split of a second, but he said nothing of it.

“And two?” Jisung asked simply, taking the package in Minho’s hand and standing up with a groan to place it in the cart.

Minho peered at him, “Two?”

“You said that one was that we still had to choose what ramen to buy, because that is what we came here for. What is two?”

Minho’s lips curved in a cheeky grin, as he pretended to dust off his sweatpants while he stood up, “Two, my dear Sungie,” he said with a playful emphasis on his words, “is that no matter how hard you could ever try to rid yourself of me, it would be impossible, both theoretically and practically.” he laughed, trapping Jisung in a half hug as his arm wrapped around his shoulders, “Our soulmate bond is forever.”

Jisung grimaced in faux disgust, responding with a playful elbow to Minho’s ribs, “You’re lucky I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Minho’s stomach dropped, breath catching somewhere in his throat. Jisung tended to do that a lot, turning serious in the middle of their usual bickering, only for him to jab back a comment to whatever Minho said and for the atmosphere to turn to the playful and lighthearted one they both knew all too well. 

He brought Jisung closer, patting his shoulder as he started making his way towards the counter at the front, “Let’s go and pay for all of this before the manager tracks us both down and drags our asses back to the dorm.” he hoped the lump in his throat wasn’t noticeable as he spoke, covering it up with a forced chuckle. 

His eyes trailed down to Jisung, eyelashes fanning across the darkened apples of his cheeks, lips slightly parted in a pout as both his hands found their way right next to Minho’s own onto the handle of the cart. It would be so easy to move just his pinky finger and touch his, to thread their fingers together like he’d wanted to for longer than he could remember. To memorize the feeling of each of his palm’s calluses, from hours and hours of writing in his old ratty notebook or from the guitar strings he hadn’t once changed before.

“I hope it’s already a given that manager-hyung won’t know anything about this, right?” Jisung asked, succinct, giving Minho a pointed look. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Minho jutted out his bottom lip, “You know I’m not a snitch.”

Jisung puffed out his chest and looked up straight ahead, “After finding out you are a Roasted Chicken enthusiast, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” 

“I thought we were over this already.” he rolled his eyes, removing his arm from his shoulders, once they were finally face to face to the cashier who only smiled at them sweetly, greeting them with a nod of her head.

They paid for everything ― technically, it was Minho who took care of that, while Jisung distracted himself with throwing everything into the elder’s eco bag carelessly, crumbled from the way it was stuffed in his pocket the entire time ( Minho didn’t fail to notice, going on an entire rant of how his tote bag deserved much better treatment and to be shown a least a little bit of respect. He didn’t press any further though, the thought of how Jisung had managed to take it from him before he left the dorm not once running through his mind ).

Jisung occupied a seat at one of the empty tables set against the window, patting the chair next to him once Minho came back from preparing and heating up all their food. He plopped down with a theatrical huff, which made Jisung let out a small laugh while he impatiently reached out for his cup of noodles.

For the most part they ate in silence, not wanting to disturb the quietude of the store any longer, since, besides themselves and the kind cashier from earlier, the 7-eleven was entirely empty. 

“How are you feeling?” Jisung suddenly spoke up, mumbling through mouthfuls of ramen, wiping the corner of his mouth with the pads of his fingers. 

Minho stared up at him, dumbfounded, chopsticks left mid-air. He tilted his head to the side, “Good? How else am I supposed to feel.” he hummed, directing his attention back to his food.

Jisung shrugged, “I’ve noticed you were kind of out of it today.” he admitted, leaning over the table, sleeves nearly dipping into the spicy red sauce. His chopsticks instantly started stirring through Minho’s own cup, ignoring his silent protest as he stole some of his ramen, “You were pretty tired ever since we got back from dance practice.” he explained, munching away happily.

Minho took one pointed glance at him, willing away the obvious way his heart began to jump leaps in his chest ― that surely wasn’t good for his health, “What do you mean?” he winced at the way his voice cracked at the end.

“Well, you usually always spam the group chat with pictures of your cats or random texts, which you didn’t today, even when we got to the dorm. You also didn’t go to the gym, which you always do in the evening, and you didn’t exercise with Changbinnie-hyung or Innie either. And I know these― Ah, I don’t know.” Jisung put his head in his hands, “I know you’re not obliged to do this kind of stuff daily or whatever, but they’re your kind of thing. You also didn’t stop to pet the stray kittens you always go to feed when you think nobody sees you slip out of the dorm, and you were also awake at this hour, which is pretty unlike you as well.” he exhaled softly, peering at Minho from behind his fingers.

“Am I that predictable?” Minho laughed, though a part of him was still processing the entire situation.

Jisung remembered all those little things about him, small habits that to anybody else would have seemed like the epitome of insignificance. 

“No, I just pay attention to you, hyung. I can do that too, you know.” Jisung’s voice was low, something in his tone that Minho couldn’t quite put his finger on. He blinked at him with big, sparkling eyes, as if scanning for any type of reaction from him.

“Oh.” he breathed, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to hide somewhere underneath the ground and never have to come out again. 

Jisung paid attention to him. To him.

Alright, he didn’t say that he paid attention to him specifically, but the simple knowledge that he even did so to begin with was enough for Minho to remain frozen for an undetermined amount of time. 

The muted artificial lights above them flickered, and he could catch a glimpse of the reddening shade of Jisung’s ears ― he was in no place to comment on that, though, if the heat that spread all across his neck was anything to go by. His fingers tapped against the plastic surface of the table, silver rings clinking quietly together, accompanied by the blend of an electric guitar and the faint notes played on a piano coming from the store’s radio player.

“You’re always there for me when I need it the most.” Jisung mumbled, with such sincerity in his voice Minho wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it, “I don’t even have to say it, you just know .”

“That’s what soulmates are for, right?” Minho wordlessly slid his half-empty cup of ramen towards the younger boy.

Jisung only groaned, cheek squishing up adorably from the way he now rested his chin in his palm, both elbows propped up on the table, “Could you please accept my attempted compliments, at least for once?”

Minho stifled his affectionate laughter, hand reaching out to swipe out Jisung’s hair fondly, underneath his beanie, tousling it in the process. It ended with Jisung’s arms swatting at him with a giggle. 

It made his entire being swell with adoration, and if he could, he would record that sound and play it on repeat over and over and over again.

He didn’t care about how over-sentimental and downright cheesy that must have sounded, or about how his food was probably going to become cold at any time, sooner or later, as he joined him in his fit of laughter. 

He didn’t mind that it was late at night, both still shivering just slightly from the cold outside, bundled up in a ridiculous amount of mismatched clothing layers.

He couldn’t even remember what his mind was so occupied with earlier that night that kept him awake, or whatever had happened throughout the rest of their day that had tired him as much as it had.

All that mattered was the boy in front of him, a small splotch of red right at the bottom of his lip, mouth stuffed with the remains of his instant ramen and a smile so beautiful and bright Minho was sure pretending the fondness in his stare didn’t exist was of no use any longer.

“I didn’t say anything, though!” Minho said, putting up his hands in defense.

Jisung glared at him teasingly, pointing his chopsticks in his direction, “Here I am, trying to be nice and grace you with my company, and this is how you repay me? Unbelievable.” he clicked his tongue, “Just wanted to do something sweet for you, since you seemed so stressed out the entire day.”

Minho’s eyebrows rose with interest, “So you mean to tell me that your way of doing something sweet is by carrying me out of my bed, dragging me all the way to the convenience store in sweatpants when it’s literally less than zero degrees outside, and making me spend all my money on food?” 

Jisung glared at him, kicking the calf of his leg underneath the table, “Where did your manners and basic human gratitude go, huh?” he continued hitting him for good measure, to which Minho countered on an instant, leading to a very intense game of footsies, while they simultaneously finished off their few leftovers.

He was grateful, beyond that even. Not only for his way of showing how much he cared, in his own, Jisung-esque fashion, but for him. 

Sure, that also crossed all possible limits of cheesiness, but there was no place left for denial.

Minho was thankful for Han Jisung’s entire existence in a way he found it hard to express through words, because even then it simply wouldn’t be enough ― he hoped the way he carefully interlaced their fingers underneath the table, hands atop of his knee, was good for now.

The gentle squeeze he received in return let him know as much. 

―

“It’s snowing! Hyung, it's the first snow of the year!” Jisung exclaimed, wide eyes looking up at the sky above them.

“How perceptive of you, Jisungie.” Minho retorted, shifting the bag of snacks they hadn’t yet finished to his left hand, right one shoved into his pocket in an attempt to warm it up a little before he would make the switch again.

“It hasn’t been like this in so long.” Jisung murmured in awe, shoving at the snow in their way with the sole of his sneakers, “It’s already started setting.” 

“It’s good though, right? For the environment and all.” Minho pointed out, easily falling into step with Jisung.

Jisung tapped his chin, “You’re right, actually. For the climate system and all that.” 

“When am I not?” Minho commented with a laugh, “Though you’d get used to it by now.”

Jisung flipped him off with a light slap to his arm, though the entire time he was beaming from one ear to another, “You give yourself too much credit.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.” Minho retorted teasingly, before he suddenly felt the usual pressure of his leather boot slowly loosening around his ankle. Looking down, he noticed his shoelaces being unceremoniously hauled through the thin layer of snow, and he resisted the urge to let out a grunt of frustration, “Sungie, do you think you could please hold this for me?” he pleaded softly, giving the bag to Jisung who took it without protest.

He mumbled out a small thanks , bending down and forcing his freezing fingers to cooperate while he struggled with looping the shoelaces around. At the indistinct sound of some kind of shuffling, he raised his head, expecting to be met with Jisung’s form slowly walking away from him and leaving Minho all by himself to catch up later on.

Oh, was he wrong.

He felt the hit before he could even wrap his head around what was happening, eyes closing tightly at the contact. He braced himself on his palms, hissing at the freezing surface of the ground, as he tried to regain his balance and not stumble all the way down on his back. 

Minho could already feel the snow begin to melt, droplets running down across his cheeks, while Jisung just stood there, clenching his stomach with his arms while he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at his predicament.

He should have seen that coming, quite frankly. 

He wasted no time, instantly gathering as much snow as he could in his calloused hands, blinking rapidly as he got used to the orange light surrounding them again. He threw the small snowball at Jisung, who expertly managed to dodge it just in time, barely grazing the side of his jacket.

“So that’s how you want to do it?” Jisung shrieked when Minho was already preparing for his second attack of the night, “It’s not fair like that, it should be my turn now!”

Minho smirked deviously, “Life isn’t fair, deal with it.” a loud thud followed, “Plus,” thud, “you brought this upon yourself.” thud, thud.

Jisung tried to shield himself with his waving arms, Minho’s movements too agile and precise for him to miss the couple following times. The younger yelped as one of the snowballs hit him right in the back of his head, legs giving out underneath him as his body was sent falling down helplessly.

Shit. 

“Sungie!” Minho coaxed out breathlessly, as he jogged the couple few meters of distance that were between them. He crouched to the ground, where Jisung was curled into himself, “I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean for that to happen.” he whispered, genuine concern in his voice as his wandering fingers started rubbing the sore spot at the back of his neck in a circular motion, “Are you oka―”

Thud.

A hand full of snow, right in his face, as he plummeted backwards, landing onto the small of his back.

“You said it yourself,” Jisung said, mimicking Minho’s voice to the best of his abilities, “life isn’t fair.” he mocked, voice wavering with playfulness as he was gone before the older boy could even scramble back on his feet. 

He wiped the side of his face with his sleeve, taking a deep breath before he started running in the same direction, “Ya! Han Jisung―” Minho called out after him, “Come back here, you little―”

Even from afar, he could still hear the continuous echo of giggles, that undoubtedly belonged to Jisung. His heart did that thing, again, which made him feel like all the oxygen was sucked right out of his lungs.

Even when they were feigning teasing annoyance at each other like this, bickering like middle school children ( as Seungmin oh so sweetly once decidedly put it ), he couldn’t bring himself to truly be the slightest bit mad at him ― the concept felt foreign to him, overpowered by the immeasurable amount of affection he had harbored for the younger boy throughout the time they have known each other.

That’s when he realized, as they were dashing down the street and towards one of the multitude of parks in the area, looking like headless chicken to anybody who had the misfortune of walking past them, heavy snow falling down and everything else around them long forgotten, that he wouldn’t trade it for the world either. 

He would give up everything for moments like these.

He would give up everything for Jisung.

It all came crashing down upon him. 

Quite literally, as right when he finally was just behind the younger, train of thoughts reaching a decisive conclusion he had known for a long time was on its way coming, the latter stopped without warning, causing Miho to actually crash into his back, sending them both rolling into the freezing grass. They tumbled messily, Jisung’s loud screeching faltering the moment they fully collapsed onto the ground.

His head was turning, and his chest was ungracefully heaving. His eyelids were shut close, body limp and heavy while he could barely catch his breath.

“You alive?” Jisung chuckled, tapping at Minho’s temple that was pressed up against his chest. The younger was pinned down beneath him, sprawled out onto the ground, his voice a little bit hitched from the way Minho was pressed up against him.

“Not in the slightest.” Minho whined, “You?”

“Take a guess.” he snorted, words interrupted by a faint cough. Minho felt the vibrations of his chest, quickly replaced by soundless laughter.

He forcefully steadied himself on his elbows, looming above Jisung, as he had no intention of crushing the boy underneath him for any much longer, “Hi.” he greeted him with a sheepish smile at the unexpected proximity between them.

“Hi.” Jisung returned cheekily. 

His eyes blinked up at him, large, with a certain glimmer that Minho could gaze at forever. The most delicate of snowflakes caught onto his lashes, and God, he never wanted to cross that space between them more than he did in that exact moment, to reach out to Jisung and see if his lips felt just as soft as they looked.

To not be afraid anymore and finally, finally―

“I already know I’m handsome, hyung, no need for you to stare.” Jisung stated, tilting his head to the side.

“You are, though.” Minho breathed, “Handsome, I mean. And beautiful.”

Jisung’s expression changed, unreadable and distant, heavy silence settling between them. Minho bit the inside of his cheek nervously, the lack of response being enough of an indication to him that he should have kept his mouth shut instead of throwing all caution to the wind, just like that ― they had years of friendship between them, and he was stupid for ever risking what they had over some stupid feelings that shouldn’t even have been there from the beginning. The future of their careers was on the line, and even the smallest of mistakes could cost them everything they had ever known.

He reluctantly began to scramble off Jisung with an apologetic smile, when the sudden weight of Jisung’s palm sprawled across his neck, icy-cold fingertips pressing into his skin. 

“You’re beautiful too, hyung. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” Jisung whispered, that same look of bashfulness he’d seen one too many times before replacing the flash of confusion and shock from earlier.

“Ah.” Minho furrowed his eyebrows, the sound of his own voice strange, “Cool.” he settled, with an embarrassed clear of his throat.

“Smooth.” Jisung remarked teasingly, his other hand slowly travelling to his defined cheekbone. His thumb stroke the skin there, with such delicacy and affection that Minho melted into his touch, breath catching somewhere in his throat and eyes swelling with a look of complete fondness that he hoped communicated all that he found too difficult to put into words.

Minho placed his hand atop of Jisung, interlocking their fingers and tightening his hold tentatively. They were both trembling, but neither made any effort of pulling away from each other. 

“You must like me a whole lot, hyungie.” Jisung noted, back craning more towards Minho, “By now, you would’ve already had my face planted into the snow while complaining about how your sweatpants are ruined and how long it would take to get the dirt out of them.” 

You must like me a whole lot. 

Minho inhaled sharply, “You’re right.” he interjected, before Jisung could say anything else, before his unusual surge of confidence was gone and forgotten just as fast as his courage slowly started creeping somewhere from the back of his mind, “I do― I do like you. A whole lot.” he timidly ran his thumb against the back of Jisung’s hand, mimicking his gesture from mere minutes before, “You don’t have to say anything about that, by the way. It was just an observation.” he added quietly, too afraid to maintain the eye contact between them any longer. 

“Rich of you to assume that I don’t have anything to say about it.” 

Jisung closed the gap between them in one swift motion, and their lips collided in one gentle brush, soft and just barely there.

Oh.

Oh.

Before Jisung had any chance of pulling away, Minho gripped at his checkered scarf, pulling him back in and kissing him with fervor and more intensity, of a million unspoken confessions and emotions, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was real, bringing their bodies even closer together. His lips were the slightest bit chapped from the cold, the hint of green apples and chocolate milk and the familiar taste of ramen lingering somewhere at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t the most divine of combinations, but to him it was perfect, and so effortlessly Jisung that the warmth spreading in his chest was almost too much more than he could physically handle. 

Their kiss was messy, teeth clumsily clashing and noses bumping into one another’s in the bliss of pure eagerness, breathy giggles shared in unison as they just continued losing themselves in each other.

Minho couldn’t care less that they were both most likely to become the objects of endless of scolding from their managers when they turned out with a cold sometime in the very near future, or that his precious tote bag he had spent such a long time searching for when he first bought it from one of the small vintage shops on the outskirts of Seoul was currently buried somewhere in the snow, fabric soaking wet.

He couldn’t care about anything other than Jisung, and the way he could still feel his smile pressing against his own.

“I like you too, hyung. But I mean…” Jisung trailed off, vaguely gesturing between them. 

Minho’s cheeks began to strain from how much he was smiling, huffing out a laugh and pressing a sloppy peck to his cheek. Jisung nuzzled his nose in the crook of his neck, trailing a couple kisses at the few moles that could be found there, making Minho’s head spin with dizziness and heart ache to never have to let go of him, to soak up into the bliss of the night with him by his side, snowflakes falling like the world was crashing down around them. 

As long as they had each other, it might as well have. 

Jisung pulled away, head tipping back. Minho ducked down, planting a tender peck to the tip of his nose as well, which the younger gratefully accepted as his arms looped around his shoulders.

“We should probably talk about this.” Jisung exhaled, fingers gripping softly at the hair at Minho’s nape.

“Yeah, we really, really should.” Minho sighed, pressing his forehead against Jisung’s, “Later, though?” 

Part of him was still scared, vulnerable, the simple thought of an actual conversation somehow unnatural and terrifying to him.

With them, they never had to talk ― not in that way. Everything always came easy, in the shape of iced americanos and pinky promises in the dark over the smallest of things, of breathless laughter muffled by their hands whenever they lost track of time and stayed awake for too long watching badly directed horror movies. Of inside jokes nobody else but them understood and Jisung always borrowing Minho’s chapstick under the pretext that he lost his own. Of pictures of Minho’s cats they would both be cooing over while waiting in the line to another restaurant and video games played together that always ended up with tickle fights and throwing all the cushions off the couch at each other.

Of convenience store runs at one in the morning and stupid debates over what was the best flavor of Doritos, of impromptu snowball fights and showing how much they cared for each other in their own, particular ways, that simply just made sense.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got time.” Jisung assured him softly, puckering his lips in the process in an overexaggerated way that had Minho laughing.

He indulged his wishes, puckering his lips and mirroring his expression as he stole another kiss from him, this time the both of them ending up in a fit of giggles that they didn’t bother to suppress anymore, loud and genuine, filled with so much happiness and maybe something that seemed a little bit like love.

“We should probably go back soon, though.” Minho proclaimed.

“Soon, but not right now.” Jisung pointed out.

And who was Minho to argue with that logic?

He surged down, Jisung meeting him somewhere in the middle, and for once, Minho wasn’t afraid. 

They still had to talk. They still had a lot to sort out. But not right now.

Right now, he was a little too busy welcoming the feeling erupting in his chest with open arms, warm and familiar and out of their world, like the way Jisung carefully interlaced their fingers and they both finally realized that their hands truly did fit perfectly together.