Chapter Text
It starts off as nothing.
Actually, what’s less than nothing? Does that exist?
If so, that’s how Hyunjin and Jisung start. The two of them, as a unit. As enemies, when you get down to it, because they were the furthest from friends you could possibly get, in the beginning.
Hyunjin doesn’t like confrontation. To the point that he actively avoids fights, only getting dragged into one kicking and screaming. In some cases, the kicking and screaming is quite literal, given the nature of teenage trainees driven by hormones, caffeine, and the desire to debut.
As a JYP trainee, Hyunjin avoids conflict any chance he gets. His main goal, after all, is to debut. Preferably with a group of people he clicks with and that will take care of him. Because, to be honest, he can be sensitive and puts too much stock in others’ opinions of him.
“A gentle soul,” Changbin had called him as they sat in the living room of his sprawling mansion during a break period. Hyunjin couldn’t dispute his fragility, not that it mattered because Changbin was one of his mentors and already knew him extremely well.
And yet, regardless of Hyunjin’s disdain of conflict, he bickers with Jisung constantly.
At first, it’s harsher than simple “bickering.” Ask anyone, especially Chan. They’re at each other’s throats, critiquing each other’s dancing and rapping, even appearances when tempers really flare.
But fast forward to their debut and everything changes.
As with most things, their relationship doesn’t shift overnight. It’s a gradual process. By the time two years have passed, two years of Hyunjin and Jisung struggling through the same grueling idol life, a tentative friendship blossoms.
It’s unlikely, to say the least, but the “rap-dance duo” fights of their past become a running joke. Their hatred, too, becomes a mere memory—albeit an unpleasant one when Hyunjin dwells on it.
But the thing is—the thing is—
Hyunjin never meant for more to come of it. He never thought he and Jisung would cross the threshold of a “nothing” relationship.
Let alone the cryptic beyond that Hyunjin stupidly begins to crave.
“Wow, you’re so flexible!”
Jisung’s booming exclamation echoes in the dance studio. Hyunjin does what he does best in this situation and ignores the hell out of Jisung, bending over to touch his toes.
Today marks another day of practicing choreography for the next comeback. Hyunjin truly loves dancing and has no qualms with living in the studio. It’s like his home away from home. Or, rather, his home away from his second home—the dorm.
Their instructors (and Chan) are adamant about proper stretching before and after a practice session, but Hyunjin gets it. The last thing he or any of them need is an injury, especially with a slew of new performances in their future.
“Don’t slack over there, Jisung,” Chan calls from his spot by the mirror. His naturally wavy hair softens his features, but there’s no mistaking the commanding edge to his voice. “I won’t have you getting hurt on my watch.”
Jisung shoots him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes. Only Jisung could get away with teasing Chan the way he does. It’s not quite disobedience, but it’s definitely on the brink of that. Most of them would be subjected to a stern lecture if they spoke to Chan the way Jisung occasionally does.
The boys have spent many long hours together lately, both here and at the recording studio. The lack of sleep wears on everyone’s nerves, and Jisung, like the rest of them, gets slap-happy when he’s exhausted.
Jisung starts at the opposite side of the room from Hyunjin, slouched on the bench along the far wall in his oversized Nirvana shirt and baggy black sweatpants that barely hide his chunky sneakers. As they circle up and cycle through their usual group stretches, though, he finds his way to Hyunjin. Who decides today is the day to give Jisung a taste of his own medicine.
In a low voice, Hyunjin sings, “Why you so obsessed with me?”
Jisung nearly falls over, barely catching himself before he faceplants.
Hyunjin stifles the urge to cackle. He puts on a purposely indifferent expression and continues to stretch, hunched over to the left with one leg bent and the other extended out to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Jisung adjust himself, assuming his earlier position.
“Wh—” Jisung scoots closer. “What was that for?”
“You’ve been following me.”
“I have not.”
Hyunjin huffs. “Okay, then why did you go out of your way to claim this spot in the stretching circle, hm? You’re telling me this is mere coincidence?”
Jisung tenses, his eyes going round for a second, but then he chokes out a laugh.
“What?” Hyunjin prompts.
“I was just gonna ask you to be my stretching partner.”
Now it’s Hyunjin’s turn to freeze mid-stretch. They’ve previously been paired up, but it’s been a while. Chan was usually the person who kept a (not so) subtle eye on them after shoving them together. Hyunjin can imagine that, in the beginning, it was an effort to improve their teamwork, their relationship.
But now, having Jisung go out of his way to pick Hyunjin…
“Me?” Hyunjin points at his chest, seamlessly maintaining his balance. “Why me?”
Jisung blanches, clearly not having expected to be asked. He clears his throat and joins the rest of the group as they shift to the opposite side in sync. Cracking bones and popping joints can be heard throughout the room, along with pained groans and forced laughter.
“Because…” Jisung refuses to meet Hyunjin’s gaze. “Because you’re stretchy.”
Because you’re stretchy.
“As if Lix isn’t right over there.” Hyunjin shakes his head. “Or Minho-hyung, honestly. You two stretch together a lot.”
“Sometimes I like to mix things up!”
“Really living on the edge, I see.”
Jisung finally makes eye contact. “We don’t have to, you know. It was just a suggestion.”
Hyunjin prepares another teasing remark, but it dies in his throat. The problem is that Hyunjin’s not opposed to the idea and can’t formulate a legitimate reason to reject Jisung. It’s a stretching exercise, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he proposed marriage or something.
Plus, when they’ve been paired up in the past, they’ve actually made a pretty good team.
“No, I…” Hyunjin mentally smacks himself for turning this into a big deal. “I don’t mind. We can be partners.”
Jisung beams, then, and the full force of it is enough to make Hyunjin weak in the knees. Jisung’s entire face lights up like the damn sun. As warm and alluring as the sun, too, as it draws Hyunjin in. Maybe it always kind of has.
But Hyunjin’s not going to unpack all of that right now.
Collectively, they finish running through the group stretches. They’re sufficiently pliant at this point, having completed individual stretches. Hyunjin shakes out his limbs and does his best to act unbothered by Jisung, blatantly staring as they await further instructions.
As expected, they’re told to find a partner.
Jisung is there in an instant, sporting that same thousand-watt smile. He looks like he’s been through a windstorm, his dark hair tousled and cheeks rosy. It’s objectively—emphasis on the objectively—a very cute look on him.
“Hyunjinnie, do you want to—oh.” Changbin comes to a halt in front of Jisung and Hyunjin, glancing between the two of them. “Are you guys…?”
“Looks like you’ll have to pick another partner, hyung,” Jisung drawls, positively simpering. “How about Lix?”
Changbin narrows his eyes at Jisung before rounding on Hyunjin. He pouts, opting for the cute persona that usually sways Hyunjin. “You wouldn’t rather have me?”
Hyunjin looks them over. It’s ironic that there’s a drastic height difference between him and the two people vying for the role of his stretching partner. Although that’s the case for a majority of the team.
“I promise we can be partners next time, okay?” Hyunjin ruffles Changbin’s hair.
To his relief, Changbin seems satisfied for the time being, preening under Hyunjin’s attention. He does, however, shoot a glare at Jisung before skipping—yes, skipping—over to Felix.
“He’s going to kick my ass later, isn’t he?” Jisung sidles up to Hyunjin, watching Changbin as Felix traps him in his embrace. “I’m telling you, I should get the same privileges as the rest of the 2000 line.”
“You do.”
“I do not,” Jisung insists, positioning himself in front of Hyunjin as they get ready to start. “Changbin-hyung acts totally different around the three of you. I’m like another species to him, I swear.”
“A quokka, maybe? Or a squirrel?”
Jisung glowers at him.
Hyunjin sighs. “He might show his affection differently, but he definitely still cares about your dramatic ass.”
“Dramatic?” Jisung copies their instructor, propping his hands on Hyunjin’s shoulders. “Pot, meet kettle.”
“What I’m saying is that he cares,” Hyunjin says, “even if he shows it in subtle ways.”
Jisung hums uncertainly but goes silent, then, as Hyunjin crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward, using Jisung as support. It’s a common exercise, but Hyunjin still isn’t used to putting complete trust in another person, letting them hold his body up. In some ways, it’s similar to a trust fall except that it’s between two people and they’re facing each other.
Of course, when Hyunjin leans in, Jisung grins wickedly at him.
“You’re doing great, baby,” Jisung cheers, drawing surprised laughter from Felix and Changbin off to their right.
Baby. Jisung calls all of them ‘baby,’ and does it casually, like it’s a typical nickname amongst friends. It’s a pet name, for all intents and purposes, but Jisung doesn’t treat it like one.
(Unless that’s what he’s doing. Then, he has some serious explaining to do.)
Hyunjin found it weird at first. Mostly because he was accustomed to Jisung scarcely speaking to him at all and, when he did, terms of endearment were out of the question. Hyunjin was lucky to be called anything besides ‘you’ and ‘that one dancer.’
“Yeah?” Hyunjin decides to play along.
“You’re flexible.” Jisung purses his lips comically and chuckles when Hyunjin pretends to retch. “Don’t you remember? I pointed it out earlier.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“But you do remember.”
“You’re the worst.”
Hyunjin is more than happy to switch places. Part of him wonders what would happen if he suddenly let go of Jisung during the stretch, but then realizes where Jisung would fall—directly into his chest instead of the floor—and that shuts that train of thought down fast.
Just as Hyunjin did, Jisung folds his arms over his chest and lets Hyunjin bear the brunt of his weight. Although it isn’t much, in terms of weight, since Jisung’s stomach seems to be a black hole. He inhales food and desserts but barely gains a pound—it’s certainly enviable.
Of course, he has a unique way of approaching the exercise.
“Let’s get it,” he blurts in English, tongue poking out of his mouth.
Hyunjin snorts and rolls his eyes, once again toying with the idea of dropping Jisung before reminding himself it’s a terrible idea.
That is until Jisung leans in with his trademark kissy face.
“Hyunjinnie,” Jisung mewls, the name garbled. “Baby.”
“Are you—Oh my god.” Hyunjin pushes harder on Jisung’s shoulders. “Are you crazy?”
“Crazy in love, maybe.”
And Hyunjin is an entire idiot for the way Jisung’s mushy bullshit makes him blush.
“I’m going to drop you,” Hyunjin warns. “I swear.”
Jisung doesn’t need to know it’s an empty threat.
“Baby, baby, baby,” Jisung babbles as Hyunjin loosens his hold enough to scare Jisung. “Baby, help me!”
Felix is outright cackling at this point. He’s leaning in towards Changbin, who has taken to observing Hyunjin and Jisung with an inscrutable expression. Chan seems to be laughing, too, but Hyunjin can’t pay much attention to his surroundings. He doesn’t actually want to drop Jisung.
“I don’t know if I should.” Hyunjin adopts a mocking voice similar to Jisung’s. “Hm, Jisungie?”
Jisung makes obnoxious kissy noises at Hyunjin, who remains unfazed.
Although he isn’t sure where his next taunt comes from: “Should I help you, baby?”
Jisung’s reaction is immediate. Blood rushes to his face, and his eyes bulge in a way that’s cuter than it is funny. Those puckered lips part around a distressed wheeze that Hyunjin barely hears over the other members. He peers up at Hyunjin through his lashes.
“I say you drop him,” Minho hollers from across the studio. “It’ll toughen him up.”
Jisung holds Hyunjin’s stare for another second before wrenching away, yelling at Minho over his shoulder. “This is why I didn’t pick you as my stretching partner!”
“How do you know Hyunjinnie wouldn’t drop you?” Jeongin appears oddly peaceful for someone supporting another person’s weight.
Seungmin, his gremlin of a stretching partner, adds, “He wouldn’t.”
Hyunjin would love to prove him wrong, but he seriously doesn’t want to let Jisung fall, even if the platform-shoe-wearing bastard does have a penchant for embarrassing him. Curious, Hyunjin attempts to gauge Jisung’s expression, but he doesn’t appear to be coping well.
Hyunjin feels like he can still taste the word on his tongue. Baby.
“Would you?” Jisung asks in a tone far too serious for the occasion. “Drop me if I was messing around and you got pissed off?”
Yes, Hyunjin wishes he could say, if only for the sake of keeping the situation light-hearted. But Jisung’s soft, sincere voice and glossy eyes have Hyunjin caving embarrassingly fast.
“No, dumbass,” Hyunjin sighs. “I’m not that cruel. Wouldn’t want to let you get hurt before practice or a performance or something.”
And maybe it’s worth it for the pleasantly surprised grin that tugs at Jisung’s lips, bunching up those ridiculous cheeks.
Hyunjin plans to keep that particular piece of information to himself, stored away with every other moment he has yet to unpack.
With the recent comeback, cooking as a team has become a regular thing.
Hyunjin has always enjoyed cooking, but not to the extent of other members in the dorm. Felix and Minho frequently occupy the kitchen, using their title track promotions as an excuse to cook whenever and whatever they want. There are failed attempts—especially on poor Felix’s part—but primarily everything is edible.
Not that Hyunjin’s complaining; it means free home-cooked meals.
It also becomes a customary topic in interviews and, recently, their livestreams.
Felix and Seungmin have filmed various cooking videos in the past, and, of course, plenty of game shows thrive on incorporating food into their regimen. But along with the comeback also comes a greater push for videos shot in the kitchen or while the members are cooking.
(Thanks, ‘God’s Menu.’)
A couple weeks ago, they split into teams and filmed a casual competition in the comfort of their own dorm. It was a welcome change, hosting a contest without having to be shuttled to a set somewhere across town. Hell, they could even film in their everyday clothes, although they were too afraid to go barefaced.
After that particular livestream, group dinners become routine (when schedules allow). And, no, not takeout, ordered from various restaurants and treated like a family meal.
“I want to try and make that pasta dish again,” Felix announces while munching on his salad during lunch one day. “And I swear to fuck it’s going to be better than last time.”
They’d laughed good-naturedly at Felix’s remark, but deep down, they knew he had been kind of pissed when he lost. He was more competitive than a lot of people probably realized. Plus, he was sick of being pigeonholed into the baker role.
Whether he was joking or not, they end up packed into the kitchen again.
Felix takes to his position as head chef with ease like last time. Although now he has a dedicated crew at his disposal.
Well—
“Please?” Changbin shuffles into the kitchen, whining at Felix like an ornery toddler. “I can help!”
Felix raises a brow at him.
“I mean,” Changbin backtracks, “I can try to help.”
Felix eventually relents and orders Changbin to assist Seungmin with the pasta. Minho has already claimed his spot at Felix’s side with the cutting board and array of ingredients, ready for prepping. Jisung has wedged himself between Felix and Minho, gawking at the bundles of veggies. Chan watches from a distance, mostly operating as the cleaning crew and human wrangler, while Jeongin harasses Changbin and Seungmin.
Hyunjin lounges by the dinner table with his hip propped against a chair. He originally thought he might help, but the other members volunteered more readily than him. And you know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen.
(Whoever coined that term must’ve witnessed Stray Kids squeezed into a kitchen together.)
Of course, Hyunjin can’t help but observe Jisung, who’s been coaxed over to an open burner. Hyunjin watches as Minho slides a pan onto the stove, loaded with freshly chopped veggies. Jisung stares at the contents of the pan with his brows furrowed, lips pursed cutely.
Wait, cutely?
“How long until he notices the burner isn’t on?” Seungmin whispers in Hyunjin’s ear.
Startled, Hyunjin looks over at Jisung again and notices that the burner hasn’t been switched on. The frying pan is simply sitting there, holding the vegetables. It’s funnier, too, when Hyunjin remembers it’s a repeat of what happened during the livestreamed competition.
“I don’t know if he will notice,” Hyunjin answers Seungmin, keeping his voice low so Jisung won’t overhear them.
“You should probably go over and help him.”
“He’s got plenty of help. I’m sure Felix or Minho-hyung will notice soon and save him.”
Seungmin squints, assessing Hyunjin.
“What?” Hyunjin pats his cheeks. “Is there something on my face?”
“No,” Seungmin hums, “I just think you should be the one to do it.”
Hyunjin regards Seungmin with confusion. “Why me?”
Seungmin scoffs and returns to the group gathered around the oven and kitchen sink. Hyunjin gapes at his back as he saunters away. That cryptic little bitch, Hyunjin thinks bitterly.
He returns his attention to Jisung who, unsurprisingly, has yet to turn on the burner. Instead he gawks at the chopped garlic and tomatoes, wearing a concentrated grimace. He half-heartedly pokes at the veggies with a spatula.
Okay, okay. Hyunjin pushes off from the table and steps up behind Jisung like he did last time. Without Jisung’s platform shoes, their height difference is really prominent. Jisung comes up to Hyunjin’s nose, making him the perfect height for Hyunjin to use as a chin rest.
So, Hyunjin does. For some unknown fucking reason.
Jisung barely flinches, mumbling a greeting under his breath. Hyunjin peeks over Jisung at the tragically raw vegetables.
“You didn’t learn anything from last time, huh?” Hyunjin jokes. “I would’ve at least thought Minho-hyung taught you how to properly use an oven.”
“Wh—Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Jisung shifts, but Hyunjin manages to hold him in place. “I know how to use the oven!”
“Then, why haven’t you turned on the burner yet?”
Jisung stiffens, and Hyunjin feels it in his chest where he’s pressed against Jisung’s back. “Wait… It has to be on. I swear I turned it on.”
“Nope,” Hyunjin replies snarkily. “You definitely didn’t or we’d be able to smell roasting garlic by now.”
Jisung inches back from the stove, and Hyunjin moves with him, offering enough space for Jisung to duck and inspect the array of knobs on the front of the stove, over the oven door.
Hyunjin chuckles fondly and urges Jisung to step aside. “Here.”
He briskly cranks up the dial to a medium heat setting and, moments later, the distinct aroma of garlic fills the kitchen, a smell that has everyone singing its praises.
“Now we’re in business,” Changbin chortles, and Felix shoves a spoon into his hand, shutting him up.
“Fuck.” Jisung reassumes his position. Now, sizzling sounds rise from the pan when he pushes the veggies around. “I feel like such a dumbass.”
As much as Hyunjin delights in giving Jisung a hard time, he settles on reassurance. “You’re not. It’s just that you’re not used to this kitchen.”
“I guess not.”
Hyunjin reclaims his position behind Jisung and leans in closer, whispering directly into Jisung’s ear. “Think of it this way. You can’t be any worse than Changbin-hyung.”
Fortunately, that seems to do the trick. Jisung laughs, the characteristically goofy kind of laugh that makes Hyunjin’s insides squirm pleasantly.
For the next few minutes, Jisung babysits the vegetables. Hyunjin occasionally pipes up with a suggestion or tip to make sure Jisung doesn’t accidentally ruin his portion of the meal. Jisung obediently follows Hyunjin’s instructions and, if he isn’t mistaken, seems to sink further and further into Hyunjin’s pseudo-embrace the longer they stand there.
Once the vegetables are ready, Hyunjin slips past him to remove them from heat. He moves the pan to a vacant burner and inspects the contents, double-checking that Jisung cooked them properly.
“What do you say, chef?” Jisung teases. It’s his turn to press up against Hyunjin, but his height bars him from using Hyunjin as a chin rest. Instead, Jisung wraps his arms around Hyunjin’s waist and peeks around him to watch.
“I think they’re passable,” Hyunjin answers, pretending to scrutinize the tomatoes and onions. “Not sure what the head chefs will say, though.”
Right on cue, Minho and Felix descend upon them.
“Passable sounds right,” Minho says, studying Jisung’s work. “I’ll take these.”
Once Minho and Felix remove Jisung’s sole task for the evening, he’s left to amble aimlessly in front of the oven, watching the others work.
“Hey,” Jisung singsongs, and oh—he’s still clinging to Hyunjin.
“What?” Hyunjin sways with Jisung, who loosens his hold enough for Hyunjin to turn in his arms. “Quitting your job already?”
“It was never full-time. I knew they would fire me eventually.”
Hyunjin giggles. “I can understand why.”
“Hey now.” Jisung moves his hands to Hyunjin’s shoulders, prompting Hyunjin to do the same. “Isn’t my cooking passable? Don’t tell me you lied.”
“‘Passable’ probably wouldn’t fly if you were working full-time in Minho-hyung’s kitchen.”
“For your information, my honey lets me help him all the time.” Jisung calls out to Minho. “Isn’t that right, hyung?”
Minho grunts noncommittally.
“See?”
An unfamiliar feeling swirls in Hyunjin’s gut, but he ignores it, along with the maelstrom of perplexing emotions he’s feeling. “Oh, yeah. So much confidence in hyung’s voice.”
Jisung adopts a tone, then, that Hyunjin recognizes from his impersonations. “Oh, honey, how you wound me!”
Hyunjin flinches. Did he... Is he quoting a line from the drama that Hyunjin’s been watching? Hyunjin didn’t realize Jisung had seen it.
“Me? Me?” Hyunjin recites. “You’re the one always hurting me.”
“I would never.”
They twirl in a circle, spinning and staggering through the kitchen, passing the fridge with each turn they make. Loud chatter fills the space around them along with the familiar symphony of sputtering, clinking and thuds orchestrated by the cooks. Listening to his groupmates joke around, domestic and easygoing, is an irreplaceable comfort.
Hyunjin would be lost without their little group of misfits.
“Baby!” Jisung whines, and Hyunjin’s heart does something strange inside his chest, regardless of whether this is dialogue from a show.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” Hyunjin raises his voice a couple dramatic octaves, emulating the female lead. “I’ve heard enough.”
Jisung bends his elbows, bringing their bodies closer together, and Hyunjin’s breath catches in his throat.
“Don’t leave me, baby, please.” Jisung’s eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lighting. “I’d be lost without you.”
Hyunjin’s heart does that awful, strange thing again. He licks his lips and subconsciously squeezes Jisung’s shoulders, reminded once again that Jisung has been hitting the gym with Changbin and Chan.
“You’d be fine,” Hyunjin insists, like the lead does, but the act suddenly feels too real. “Maybe you’d be better off.”
Jisung seems to suffer, as well, with his lips turned down in a frown. There’s a heart-broken, glistening sheen to his eyes that’s eerily similar to the main actor in the drama, too. Worse yet, Hyunjin knows Jisung’s talent for impressions doesn’t carry over to legitimate acting. The pain reflected back at Hyunjin feels sincere.
“I wouldn’t,” Jisung murmurs, losing the teasing lilt to his voice. “I would be miserable.”
“Bleh.”
Jeongin’s disgusted reaction pulls Hyunjin back to reality, his gaze flicking away from Jisung. Sure enough, Jeongin loiters by the fridge with a dirty cutting board and rag.
“Get a room already,” Jeongin says, punctuating the request with a groan. He slips by a dumbfounded Hyunjin and Jisung, making a beeline for Seungmin. “I swear, not even the kitchen’s safe anymore.”
“We were—”
“But it’s just—”
Jisung and Hyunjin speak at the same time. Shocked, they lock gazes, mouths agape.
“Let them be,” Minho sighs, waving at Hyunjin and Jisung like he’s shooing a couple pesky flies. “They’re better off flirting than attempting to help with this.”
Flirting. Flirting?
“Hyunjinnie isn’t a bad chef, you know,” Seungmin adds as he accepts the cutting board from Jeongin. “But I also get what you’re saying.”
I’m literally standing right here, Hyunjin wants to say, but he’s still caught on the ‘flirting’ accusation. Is that what they think? That Hyunjin and Jisung are flirting?
Fuck, have they thought Hyunjin and Jisung have flirted in the past?
A younger Hyunjin would’ve died on the spot if he were accused of flirting with Han Jisung. But present day Hyunjin has grown since then. When he considers it, he’s not nearly as repulsed as he would’ve been then. Worse accusations could be made. It’s not like Jisung is unattractive. He’s also talented and one of the funniest people Hyunjin has ever met.
But did that mean—that couldn’t possibly mean—
Does Hyunjin actually have… a crush on Jisung?
“You’re just jealous,” Jisung chides with a smug smirk, but Hyunjin catches the way he wavers. “Also, we’re quoting a scene from ‘A Broken Heart,’ you uncultured fools.”
“You say that like I haven’t watched that drama with you,” Minho sighs, and Jisung’s cheeks flush.
That same weird emotion rises up Hyunjin’s throat, combined with full-blown panic. The thought of Jisung watching shows with Minho has never bothered Hyunjin before, or at least not to an obvious extent. Maybe. He doesn’t think it has.
But this feels a lot like jealousy.
Shit.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Seungmin adds, glued to Jeongin’s side like the hypocrite he is. “I’m also aware that only one of you dorks can put on a convincing act. Well, for the most part, at least.”
“Hey!” Jisung squeaks, the pink on his cheeks deepening to red. “I take offense to that.”
“But you know it’s true, hm?” Felix giggles.
“Lix.” Jisung tilts his head back to look at Felix. “I thought we had something special.”
“I’m just saying!”
“All twins do is lie,” Jisung grumbles.
Hyunjin listens silently to their exchange. While the terms ‘flirting’ and ‘crush’ circle around inside his head, he’s also stupefied by Jisung’s firm grasp on his shoulders. He hasn’t removed his hands, not even when their groupmates ribbed them for their acting stint. His palms are warm, his grip solid but gentle.
“Carry on, carry on.” Minho waves them off again. “I want to see how this rendition compares to the real thing.”
“No,” Jisung replies, “you ruined the mood. The scene is over now.”
Hyunjin’s heart sinks.
“It is?”
Hyunjin smacks a hand over his mouth.
Jisung turns on him with wide eyes, his heart-shaped mouth forming an ‘o.’ He blinks at Hyunjin, his gaze quickly flitting around Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin can only imagine what expression he must be making, but he’s apparently lost control over his own body.
“I… Do you wanna keep going?” Jisung trills, and Hyunjin slowly removes his hand from his mouth.
“I mean, it was—” Hyunjin pauses to clear his throat, carding his fingers anxiously through his hair. “I was having fun.”
“Okay. Okay, okay,” Jisung replies with a nod. “Let’s continue, then, shall we?”
Hyunjin ignores the distinct sound of gagging from the general vicinity of the kitchen sink. He places his hands on Jisung’s shoulders and glides to the right, pleased to see Jisung follow suit so they can resume their spinning.
And Hyunjin shoves all thoughts of a possible crush to the back of his mind.
When Hyunjin eventually decides to talk to someone, it isn’t their fearless leader.
The last thing Hyunjin needs is Chan blowing this situation out of proportion. He also loathes the idea of their leader offering him romantic advice. Hyunjin doesn’t exactly like feeling forced and, as much as he appreciates Chan’s help, he’ll drop dead before anyone coerces him into saying something to Jisung.
Plus, the whole Minho thing—
No, nope. He won’t think about that right now.
He owes Seungmin his attention, anyway, since he’s the one who sought Seungmin out.
“You’ve got my curiosity piqued,” Seungmin comments from his perch on the bottom bunk. “Although I’m not sure it warranted me skipping dinner with Innie.”
Hyunjin is well aware he should be grateful; not many people can rob Seungmin of the chance to hang out with their feisty maknae.
“I promise it’s important.”
“Really? You said the same thing the last time you spilled soda on your white pants.”
“Uh, yeah? And your point?”
Seungmin blinks, expression turning blank. “Okay, let me shoot Innie a messa—”
“Fine,” Hyunjin hisses, trapping Seungmin’s hands around his phone where his thumbs are poised to type. “Fine. It’s more serious than that.”
“I’m not sure if I believe you.”
“I picked you because I didn’t think you’d be this difficult.”
“I know,” Seungmin says, “I’m surprised you didn’t go to Changbin-hyung.”
Hyunjin worries at his bottom lip. Frankly, he chose Seungmin over Changbin because, between the two of them, Changbin was closer to Jisung. That would easily complicate this conversation, and it was already pretty fucking complicated as it was.
(There’s also the whole issue of Changbin being insanely protective of Hyunjin.)
“I couldn’t talk about this with him.” Hyunjin shifts nervously where he sits, cross-legged on the floor between their bunks. “I’m not sure how he would take it.”
“You don’t think he would take it well?”
“Well…”
“It’s Changbin-hyung. He’s honest and straightforward, but he would never say anything to hurt your feelings.”
Seungmin’s defensiveness initially catches Hyunjin off-guard, but Changbin’s close to all of them—the trouble children born in 2000. He spent countless hours listening to their problems and sorting out petty squabbles between members when they were relatively new to living together.
“Believe me, I know,” Hyunjin says softly. “But you’ll understand after I explain, okay?”
Unfortunately, Seungmin doesn’t look convinced. But he offers a small nod as a gesture for Hyunjin to continue.
Where does Hyunjin begin? How does he phrase this?
Well, Seungmin, I think I might have feelings for Jisung. Yes, our Han Jisung. Yes, that’s right, the person I almost punched in the face before we debuted. And, yes, the same person I habitually friend-zone even though we were set up as a married couple in one of our most popular group skits. No, no, not entirely platonic. At least I don’t think so? I’m pretty sure the ‘feelings’ might be a little romantic at this point, but who knows because we’re all so close at this point. Hence the, you know, panic. But don’t freak out! Because it could still be platonic. Maybe.
Fuck.
Opting for honesty, as is always best when dealing with Seungmin, Hyunjin says, “I don’t know where to start.”
Seungmin regards him carefully, tilting his head with that trademark charm that’s suspiciously canine. Besides Changbin, Seungmin truly is one of the best listeners of the group. Even now, he refrains from being pushy, his features softening when his eyes meet Hyunjin’s.
“Okay, well, take your time. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“No, I—I want to. I really need to get it off my chest.”
Seungmin’s brows draw together.
“So…” Hyunjin stares into his lap, twiddling his fingers. It’s now or never. “I think I have feelings for someone.”
“Oh. Oh, well that’s not too big of a deal, I guess. You’ve been coached on how we have to handle relationships in this line of work.” Seungmin snorts. “I don’t need to give you the ‘Dad Chan Speech.’”
Hyunjin wishes it were that simple. “I mean for someone… someone in the group.”
The silence that follows is downright deafening.
“Right,” Seungmin drawls. The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “I can play along. Who?”
Ugh. Hyunjin overlooks the annoyance bubbling in his gut. Time to rip off the bandaid.
“It’s Hannie, okay? It’s Jisung.”
And Hyunjin was wrong; this silence is infinitely worse.
“Han… Jisung. Our Jisung,” Seungmin replies haltingly.
Hyunjin braces for impact—for Seungmin's dreaded version of the 'Dad Chan Speech.'
But instead Seungmin bursts into laughter.
“Oh… my g…” He can barely breathe. “Very funny! You really have a great sense of humor, hyung!”
For a second, Hyunjin considers letting it go. Maybe life would be easier if Seungmin took this as a joke. Hyunjin could keep this secret, could carry it with him to the grave, and no one else in the group would be the wiser. He wouldn’t have to sit through one of Chan’s speeches. He wouldn’t have to try explaining his feelings to Seungmin or any of his other friends. And, if he were really lucky, his feelings would fade away with time.
But Hyunjin… he can’t.
Seungmin laughs for another solid minute before he finally realizes Hyunjin hasn’t joined in.
Gradually, he settles down, sagging against the wall with his socked feet suspended in midair. He looks at Hyunjin and furrows his brow. “Why aren’t you…”
Hyunjin merely stares back.
“Oh.”
Yeah, ‘oh,’ is right. A grand understatement—the understatement of the century.
When Seungmin stays quiet, his mouth hanging open, Hyunjin blurts out the explanation trapped in his chest.
“I know, it sounds like a joke. I get it. I still think—sometimes I hope that’s all it is. It’s so dumb—so dumb. I mean, it’s Hannie, and… me. It’s us. We’re such an unlikely match and—” Hyunjin takes a second to breath before charging on. “We’re in the same group, which is dangerous enough. And I love everyone in this group, of course, but—I just. Plus we’re both men, and that scandal of mine that’s starting to—”
“Okay, okay, stop.” Seungmin moves from his spot on the bed, sliding down to the floor where Hyunjin has curled further into himself. “Relax, alright?”
How am I supposed to relax?
“I’m really sorry,” Seungmin says gingerly, “I didn’t mean to laugh. I shouldn’t have laughed, I—shit. It was just… unexpected. I thought you might be messing with me.”
Hyunjin slumps against Seungmin.
“So, let me get this straight.” Seungmin lets out a helpless chuckle. “Straight… Anyway, your feelings. For Jisung.”
Hyunjin winces. “This was a mistake.”
“It most definitely was not. I’m happy you chose me to confide in.”
“Now do you get why I didn’t tell Binnie-hyung?”
“Yeah.” Seungmin laughs. “Yeah, I get it now.”
Neither of them speak right away after that. Seungmin takes to brushing his fingers through Hyunjin’s hair, having removed Hyunjin’s hair tie when he first slid down to the floor. As much as Hyunjin complains about skinship, he can’t deny Seungmin and, if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t mind skinship from his groupmates anymore. They’ve known each other—lived together—for long enough at this point that it’s practically second nature, especially with the members who particularly love it, like Changbin and Felix.
“How long has this been going on, huh?” Seungmin’s voice drops to a comforting rumble. “I honestly had no clue.”
A beat.
“Well, maybe an inkling,” Seungmin admits. “But I don’t like making accusations. I just have fun teasing you guys.”
Hyunjin inhales and holds his breath, letting it out slowly. He can do this.
So, Hyunjin tells him everything. From the turning point in his relationship with Jisung, to the months of inner turmoil after he begrudgingly admitted he liked having Jisung around. He recounted several panicked moments, even when Seungmin almost called them ‘gay panic’ moments and permanently lost his ‘Sharing Time’ privileges.
Hyunjin goes through it all, detail by painstaking detail.
It’s awful, just as he suspected, but it could’ve been worse. Seungmin maintains his composure and treats the issue seriously, making harmless jokes when Hyunjin’s tense posture calls for it.
“So,” Hyunjin sighs, once he’s finished baring his soul, “that’s that. What do you think?”
“What do I think?”
“I mean, I don’t know… what to do.” Hyunjin groans. “This is so embarrassing. I’m really hoping it’ll pass.”
“It might,” Seungmin humors him with a shrug. “Feelings are like that. And you’ve been through a lot recently.”
(If only Hyunjin and Seungmin knew how much Hyunjin would go through.)
“That’s true. I’m probably blowing this out of proportion.” Hyunjin pulls Seungmin’s hand into his lap, playing with his fingers. “It’s a crush, that’s all.”
Even so, the words feel wrong. Like Hyunjin is overlooking something deceptively important.
“Right,” Seungmin chirps, fingers gone pliant in Hyunjin’s grasp. “Crushes don’t always last.”
“And if it doesn’t go away, well, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”
“Exactly.”
“Actually…” Hyunjin sits up straight and swivels to face Seungmin. “Now that we’re sitting here discussing crushes—”
“Nope,” Seungmin deadpans.
“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that!”
“I have nothing to contribute to this conversation.”
Hyunjin simpers. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Nothing related to a certain… maknae—”
Seungmin jerks to his feet. “Absolutely not. We’re done here.”
Hyunjin whines and flops on the ground, reaching uselessly for Seungmin’s retreating legs. He giggles and rolls over, staring at the ceiling. His usual over-the-top behavior isn’t working on Seungmin, but Hyunjin doesn’t care, satisfied to trace listless patterns with a finger extended toward the ceiling.
At least a weight seems to have been lifted off his shoulders.