Chapter Text
“Felix, what if this all goes sideways?” Jisung asks. He fidgets nervously with the hem of his Halloween costume while Felix crowds up against the mirror, doing his own eye makeup. He spares Jisung a cursory glance, eyes trailing up and down his body, then smiles brightly.
“Don’t worry, my Jisungie! It won’t go sideways. We talked about this, remember?”
They did talk about it. At length. They planned contingencies and back up plans and back up plans to the back up plans. They offered to host Halloween at their place – a small, two bedroom walk up as opposed to Chan and Changbin’s sprawling penthouse for a reason. So Jisung could be safe, and be comfortable, and be home in case anything goes wrong.
Jisung’s palms feel sweaty. So does the back of his neck. And the backs of his knees. “I just–”
“Ji,” Felix says, turning towards him suddenly. He drops his makeup brush in favor of wrapping his hands around Jisung’s, which he’s been wringing together nervously without realizing. “You don’t have to do this. I just thought– I know I’ve been–”
“It’s not your fault!” Jisung interrupts. Felix talks over him.
“This was my idea, is what I’m saying. You are in no way obligated to go through with it.” Felix levels Jisung with a knowing look, and – yeah. Fair. There’s a reason, of course, that he’s dressed up as a maid right now. Felix squeezes Jisung’s hands. “So I’m asking, again. Do you want to do this, Jisung? You know I’m here for you either way. You have all the clothes in your closet to be Billy Joe Armstrong. I can even do your eyeliner.”
Jisung takes a deep breath, thinking it through seriously because he knows Felix would want him to. Part of him – most of him, probably – is nervous. Not about being around his friends in a maid costume, god knows Felix wears whatever the fuck he wants all the time and no one bats an eye, but for the reason behind it.
He’s not ashamed, really, of what he needs. And Jisung knows he’s only feeling nervous because it’s been so long – too long – and his body and mind are wound up tight, like a live wire crackling and popping, waiting to explode.
“Can you run me through the ethics one more time?” Jisung asks. That’s what he’s caught up on – involving his friends, involving friends of his friends, in Jisung’s… quirks.
Felix smiles softly at him. “You’re worried about involving other people in kink? I get that. But remember what we said. You’re not going to slip. You’re just going to feel better. You’re going to get what you need and at the same time have fun with your friends at this party. You’re going to be a magnificent host – diligent, attentive, helpful – and in the end everyone is going to benefit. It’s not sexual, Jisungie. That’s not what this is for you, right?”
Jisung shakes his head. The need to – to be helpful, to be needed, comes from something else entirely. He and his therapist are working on it. But it’s not sexual. It never has been sexual, which is the only reason he’s let Felix help him out for so long. Until he finally started dating Chan, of course. Immediately after their official first date Felix had dragged him down onto the couch and, almost tearily, explained that he couldn’t dom for Jisung anymore. Even though he told Chan about it right away and Chan said it was fine, especially if it helped Jisung get out of his head, Felix didn’t feel right about it.
Which is fine. Jisung is fine. He’s just not really sleeping and his fuse at work is growing shorter and shorter, and something has to give.
Cue: Felix’s bright idea.
They would host Halloween at their place, automatically giving Jisung the excuse to be an attentive host. He could offer more drinks, clean up after their guests, and ask if he could be helpful in any way without it drawing too much attention. Their entire friend group knows that Jisung is a bit of the “mom” friend, but have chalked it up to being practically raised by Chan, who is undisputedly the group dad. Felix suggested taking it a step further with the maid costume. Their friends like to take the piss at each other, and Felix said it was a surefire way for Jisung to get lightly bossed around without slipping into space.
“Doesn’t that sound good?” Felix had asked, one hand in Jisung’s hair while they lounged on the couch. “Tell me if it doesn’t. I’m serious, Jisungie.”
Jisung had immediately gone along with it, the prospect of finally getting to give, to serve, after so long driving his approval. But now, standing in a short dress and long socks in Felix’s bedroom, he’s nervous. What if someone catches on, and calls him out and thinks he’s disgusting? What if he slips into space and needs aftercare? What if, what if, what if?
Jisung feels Felix’s hand in his hair, snapping him back to reality. Felix’s eyebrows are pulled together, his eyes concerned. “Ji, what are you thinking? Do you want to change?”
Jisung takes a deep breath. He’s nervous. But he aches at the thought of not getting what he needs. “No– no. I’m good. I’m just nervous, a little. But I’m good.”
Felix smiles softly and ruffles Jisung’s hair before stepping back towards the mirror. “Tell me immediately if anything changes, yeah? I’ll kick everyone out if you need me to. You know that.”
Jisung smiles. He does. “I do.”
Peeking at himself in the part of the mirror Felix isn’t using, Jisung fiddles with his stockings, making sure they sit perfectly. The maid costume isn’t the highest quality, but he thinks he looks good. It’s definitely a little short and the chest is a little tight, but he’s not wearing it to look good, per se. He’s wearing it to be good. Which he will be. And then he’ll be able to sleep tonight.
There’s a knock at the door, and Felix, with his mouth dropped open as he perfects his eyeliner, mutters, “the door, Jisungie.”
Jisung’s eyes snap towards him. Felix hasn’t given him an order in months. The familiarity of it settles something warm in the bottom of Jisung’s stomach. Felix smirks at him through the mirror. “I talked to Channie. Just a little something to get the others on board.”
Jisung nods enthusiastically and hurries to answer the door. Chan and Changbin are on the other side, and where Chan smiles delightedly at Jisung’s costume, Changbin’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. But Jisung was watching. He noticed.
Jisung opens the door fully and motions inside with a flourish. “Welcome to our humble abode.”
Felix walks out of his room as Chan and Changbin are kicking off their shoes, and Jisung cackles happily when he finally puts together what Chan and Felix’s couples costume is.
“You like it?” Felix asks, toying with the long straw-like skirt Chan is wearing over his pants. Changbin glances over and must put it together as well, because he lets out a long-suffering sigh.
“A witch and his broom,” Changbin says. He’s grimacing, but his voice is fond. “You two are gross.”
“Don’t act like you aren’t dressed like a slutty pirate just so you can have your tits out, Bin,” Chan says, leaning down to press a kiss to Felix’s temple. Changbin starts stuttering, obviously searching for a comeback and coming up empty.
“I’m not a slutty pirate, I’m just a pirate,” he settles on eventually. As he says so, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin push their way into the apartment, each of them holding a case of beer. Hyunjin’s eyes immediately zero in on Changbin’s exposed chest, and Changbin turns bright red.
“Y’look like a slutty pirate to me,” Hyunjin mutters. Then he slaps one of Changbin’s pecs on the way to the kitchen. Hyunjin himself is dressed as Levi from Attack on Titan, with a harness pressed tightly against his chest and a few more buttons on his top undone than is canonically accurate.
Jisung makes eye contact with Felix, who raises his eyebrows and looks towards the kitchen, where Seungmin is methodically opening up the cases of beer and shuttling them into the fridge.
“Let me help you with that!” Jisung says brightly, stealing two cans of beer directly from Seungmin’s hands. Seungmin glances at him a little oddly but lets him take over, and Jisung is glad for it. He already feels the tightness in his shoulders loosening as he pushes things around in the refrigerator to make the beer fit.
“You look pretty, Jisungie hyung,” Jeongin says. He’s perched on the kitchen counter, drinking a warm beer. Jisung wrinkles his nose when he sees it, but preens at the compliment anyway.
“Thanks, Ien-ah.” He glances at Jeongin’s costume – he seems to be some sort of budget Jareth from The Labyrinth. The only reason Jisung knows who he’s supposed to be is because of the amount of bulge he’s showing off. Seungmin seems to be the only one of their friends so far that isn’t dead-set on winning the Sluttiest Costume Contest at the end of the night. He’s dressed respectably in jeans and a baseball jersey Jisung knows he already had.
More people filter into the apartment as Jisung takes care of all the cases of beer. He has the fleeting thought of what Minho might come dressed up as. Will he be in a revealing costume, too? Or something more like Seungmin’s? Jisung supposes it doesn’t matter. Minho always looks hot. He carries himself with confidence, and his voice is always a little domineering, and when he dances he just looks like he could eat someone. Jisung has wondered before if maybe, just maybe, Minho would be a good stand-in for Felix. Someone who would tell Jisung what to do, how to act, make it so he doesn’t have to think so hard all the fucking time–
“Cute costume, Jisungie.”
Jisung whips around from where he was reorganizing jello shots to find Minho leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. He’s got his arms crossed over his broad chest, and Jisung’s brain is having a hard time trying to compute what he’s looking at – not just because of the- the tasks.
Minho is in a tight black tank top, of all things, showing off his strong shoulders and arms. He has his boxing gloves tied together and thrown over one shoulder, and worst of all, he’s wearing boxing shorts. Boxing shorts that seem to barely fit around his thighs, which means they’re kind of tight, and Jisung has a hard time ignoring Minho’s thighs in pants and now they’re just out–
“Y-you too,” Jisung says, blinking quickly to break himself out of his skin-induced reverie. He looks back at Minho’s face and finds that he’s smiling at him, a knowing look in his eyes. Jisung swallows roughly, then notices that Minho’s hairline is a little damp, and his bangs are stuck to his forehead. “Did you… just come from the gym?”
Minho shrugs. “Had to get some sort of pump going before this shin-dig. Jeongin has his entire dick out, and Bin-ah has Jut and Dwae on full display. I needed to be able to compete.”
Jisung laughs, and Minho’s soft smile turns into a full-on grin. Minho walks the short distance between them and reaches out, messing with the frilly apron tied around Jisung’s waist. “How’d you land on this? I have a feeling Lixie picked it out.”
“He did,” Jisung replies, trying to breathe through his mouth. Listen – he’s just a man. And Minho is his hottest friend, and he’s sweaty, and there’s a reason Jisung works out alone. He hasn’t even had a drink yet and he feels drunk on Minho’s presence in front of him. He wants to run Minho a bath. He wants to pick out his favorite bath bomb and add it to the water. He wants to light a candle and help Minho undress and wash his hair for him and– “I’ve got to be a good host, after all.”
Minho smiles, then reaches around Jisung to grab a jello shot. He holds it out to Jisung before grabbing one for himself. Jisung has already decided not to get drunk tonight, to really make sure he has control over himself, but he figures one jello shot won’t hurt. Not when it’s red – his favorite – and especially not when Minho says, “take a shot with me, Sung-ah.”
And who is Jisung to say no?
They both run their pinkies around the outer rim of the cup to loosen the jello, and then Minho playfully taps his cup to Jisung’s. When they’ve both swallowed their jello, Minho turns towards the trash bag hanging on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
“Oh! I’ll–” Jisung snatches the cup from Minho and tosses it away himself, even though Minho is arguably closer to the bag. Minho looks at Jisung like he’s a little odd, and maybe Jisung is. He definitely is. He just smiles brightly and says, “I’m the host, hyung. Let me take care of you.”
Minho blinks once, twice, then three times. Jisung has known him long enough to know that means that Minho has thoughts about something and is debating on if he should say anything. He must decide that no, whatever crossed his mind isn’t important enough to bring up, because he merely shrugs and turns towards the exit to the kitchen.
“You coming, Sung-ah?” He asks as he steps towards the living room. Jisung glances around the kitchen. There isn’t much for him to do here anymore. Maybe if he goes out, he can see who needs another drink. Maybe he can carry around the tray of jello shots – no. That would be weird. He’s dressed like a maid, not a butler.
Jisung looks back to Minho, who seems to be watching Jisung very carefully. “Yeah, hyung. I’m coming.”
☆
Jisung feels it a few hours into the party. He’s more relaxed than he has been in weeks. He’s diligently cleaning up after everyone, he’s gotten a few people drinks under the guise of just “heading to the kitchen anyhow!” and Felix has somehow easily convinced their friends that Jisung needs to be bossed around. Something about making sure his costume is accurate. Jisung wasn’t really paying attention to the excuse, he was more focused on waiting for Hyunjin to finish shotgunning a beer so he could offer him a napkin and take his can to the trash.
Now, he’s sitting on the couch, waiting, because Jeongin was in the middle of telling him a story and got pulled away, but not before he said “wait right there, hyung! I’ll be right back.”
It’s been close to twenty minutes. Jisung doesn’t think Jeongin is coming back, but he was told to wait, so he’ll wait. When he feels the couch dip beside him, Jisung turns to find Minho relaxing back against the cushions next to him. Jisung’s brain feels slow, and his eyes feel kind of unfocused, so it takes him a minute to realize Minho is trying to talk to him.
“--sung? Are you okay?” Minho has leaned forward into Jisung’s space, and is holding his hand up tentatively like he’s going to check Jisung for a fever.
Jisung blinks slowly. He needs to respond, but he feels – he feels good. He doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t want to assess how he’s feeling aside from good, and floaty, and – oh shit.
Oh shit.
He hadn’t meant to fall this far. He was specifically supposed to not fall at all. And now he’s sitting in the middle of his own party and he can’t think right. He hopes he just looks drunk.
“Jisungie?” Minho asks again, his hand coming to rest on Jisung’s forehead. “Talk to me, Sung-ah.”
An order. Right. He can do that. It doesn’t mean his brain is going to move much faster, though.
“... Felix?” He manages to say, his mouth forming the word at what feels like a snail's pace. If he can get Felix, Felix will know what to do. He always knows what to do. He said he’d kick out the entirety of the party if Jisung needed him to. “Wh– where is Felix?”
“In his room with Chan hyung. I…” Minho grimaces, like merely saying the words has put all kinds of visuals in his head he doesn’t care for. His hand slips from Jisung’s forehead to his jaw, gently cradling his face. “I don’t think you want him right now.”
Jisung’s eyes slip closed. If Minho doesn’t think that Jisung wants Felix, he’s probably right. Minho is right about a lot of things. “You– you’re right. I don’t want him right now.”
“Jisung, what?” Minho asks, and Jisung quickly shakes his head to bring himself out of his reverie. It dislodges Minho’s hand, but Minho quickly wraps it around Jisung’s bicep, pulling him closer. “Are you okay, Sungie? What’s going on? Did something happen? You didn’t drink that much – did anything taste funny? Do you still have your cup?”
Jisung squeezes his eyes closed. It’s too much. He can’t think, he can barely talk, and Minho just asked him so many questions in a row. He’s just waiting for Jeongin. Why is Minho asking him so many things? “Too– too many questions. I– I can’t. I can’t think. I’m waiting for Innie.”
Minho gently tightens his hand around Jisung’s bicep. “Why are you waiting for Ien-ah, Sungie? Can you tell me that?”
“Because he– he told me to. Wait. He told me to wait. I’m waiting for him.” Jisung opens his eyes only to find Minho staring back at him, looking – Jisung can’t really tell. He doesn’t look concerned anymore, really, or like he’s worried one of his closest friends spiked Jisung’s drink. He just looks… like he knows something Jisung doesn’t.
“Okay, Sungie, that’s… that’s good, that you’re waiting for him.” Jisung preens under the praise, but then Minho keeps talking. “But I think he may have gotten distracted, and he doesn’t know you’re still waiting here for him. I think we should go to your room for a minute.”
Jisung makes an upset sound when Minho pulls on his arm, moving him off the couch. He told Jeongin he would wait. He has been waiting. Jeongin needs to know that Jisung has been good and patient. “But–”
“Jisung,” Minho says, his voice suddenly different. It makes Jisung stand up a little straighter. It makes him want to ask Minho if there’s anything Jisung can do for him. Get him a glass of water, tie his loose shoelace, change the oil in his car – it doesn’t matter. Jisung would do it all. “I want you to come with me now, please.”
“Y-yeah. Let’s go,” Jisung says, his words coming out almost slurred. Minho moves his hand from Jisung’s bicep to his hand, intertwining their fingers together. Jisung follows him across the apartment like a faithful lamb to his shepherd, feeling himself slip father even as he does his best to keep his head above water.
Minho is just so perfect. He’s a little bit taller, a lot wider, and he commands every room with such gentle authority that it’s really a wonder that Jisung hasn’t slipped into space around him before.
Minho guides Jisung gently into his room and shuts the door behind them. The sound of the party outside muffles as he does so, and Jisung thinks that’s a little bit like how his brain feels right now. Muffled to any higher executive function.
“Jisungie,” Minho says, stepping closer to him. Jisung hums in response. Minho is going to ask something of him, Jisung just knows it. And then Jisung is going to provide and it’s going to be so good. He’s going to be so good. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
And that’s – that’s a hard request to fulfil right now. But Jisung is going to try. He takes a few deep breaths and tries to search for the right words. “I’m… helping. Everyone.” Minho nods, but there’s something in his face that Jisung can’t quite read. Oh fuck, he’s disappointing Minho. He needs to come up with a better answer. “Sorry, I– I mean, I’m just–”
Minho rests a hand on Jisung’s upper arm. “Why are you sorry?”
“B-because you asked me a question and I– I’m having trouble, I think– that’s a hard question–”
“Okay, okay, Sung-ah.” Minho shushes him gently. Then, he pulls away, regards Jisung very closely and says, “let’s get you into something more comfortable, yeah? Then we can talk.”
Jisung nods gratefully, but makes no move towards his closet. Minho nods, seemingly to himself, and then reaches for Jisung’s dresser. Jisung watches as Minho carefully selects his clothes, going for Jisung’s comfiest sweats and his biggest, rattiest t-shirt. He lays them both on the bed and then asks, “can you change into these for me, Jisung?”
Jisung hurries to comply, ripping the maid's costume over his head in one easy motion. He kicks off the stockings and leaves both items of clothing in a puddle on the floor, then steps into the sweats and pulls on the shirt. As soon as he’s dressed he looks towards Minho for approval, and Minho smiles softly at him.
“Can we sit together for a bit, Sung-ah?” Jisung crawls into bed and Minho follows close behind him. He doesn’t say anything when Jisung presses tightly up against him, craving the comfort, and Jisung is thankful.
He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to come out of it. All he knows is that Minho keeps asking him easy to answer questions (Wanna see pictures of the babies? Was tonight fun? Did you see Changbin try to do a handstand?) and then he’s suddenly feeling much clearer, more level headed, and the tension in his shoulders has almost disappeared.
Until he remembers why the tension is gone in the first place.
Jisung sits up abruptly and pulls away from Minho so violently that he almost crashes into the wall behind him. Minho sits up too, reaching for Jisung, looking concerned, but Jisung pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his hands around them tightly. He wants to disappear. He needs Minho to leave, like right now, and forget everything he saw.
“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Jisung says, and oh shit – he’s going to cry. He had 30 seconds of reverie in feeling relaxed, finally, and now he’s going to fucking cry. “So– sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Jisung, don’t apologize, you’re fine–”
“It’s not, it’s not fine!” Jisung runs his shaking hands over his face. Oh God, Minho probably thinks he’s so weird, and now he’s going to tell their whole friend group, and then everyone but Felix will think he’s weird – or maybe Felix will also think he’s weird, has always thought he’s weird and not told him–
“Jisung, look at me,” Minho says quietly. Jisung sniffs and rubs tears from his eyes, but he’s powerless to do anything but listen. He needs more aftercare. He thinks he might shake apart. Minho reaches for him again, and Jisung is so desperate for a kind touch that he lets Minho pull him back across the bed, practically into his lap. Jisung buries his face in Minho’s neck to hide his tears even though Minho told Jisung to look at him. Jisung can only hope Minho won’t be disappointed. “You’re okay, we’re okay. I just want to know what’s going on, Ji, so I can help. Is me holding you helping?”
Jisung nods, but doesn’t say anything otherwise. Minho runs a gentle hand up and down the length of Jisung’s back. “That’s good, Sung-ah. Really good. Can you explain to me now what you were feeling? I’m sorry for asking too many questions in a row, before.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jisung murmurs into Minho’s neck. “I just– I just wanted to feel better. I’ve been so stressed and Felix can’t help me anymore and he thought– he thought this would help and I’m sorry–”
“Please stop apologizing–”
“I didn’t mean to fall so far,” Jisung cries, pulling back to look Minho in the eyes so Minho can see that he means it. “It’s just– it helps, helping other people and not– not having to think so much and I– I’m just sorry I made you so uncomfortable–”
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Minho interrupts softly. He pushes a loose strand of hair away from Jisung’s face. “Can you take a deep breath for me? Yeah, just like that.” Jisung follows along with Minho’s own breathing for a few minutes until he’s fully calmed down, the tears tacky and dry on his cheeks. Minho pulls him impossibly closer, holding onto Jisung tightly. “You’re okay, Jisungie. We’re okay. You want to put on a show?”
Jisung nods, and Minho quickly pulls up a random youtube video on his phone. He hands it to Jisung and then pulls them both down until they’re laying on the bed, Jisung curled into Minho’s side. Jisung holds the phone so they both can see while Minho cards his fingers through Jisung’s hair.
Stupid, Jisung thinks to himself. He’s an idiot for thinking Felix’s plan would ever work. It’s been so long since he entered space, of course he was going to slip the second anyone told him what to do.
At least Minho is the one who found him. Safe, strong, soft, Minho, who always seems to know exactly what Jisung needs, sometimes before Jisung even knows himself. Jisung curls closer, and Minho throws his free arm around Jisung’s waist. It blocks Jisung’s view of the phone, but he finds he doesn’t care. He can’t care about much of anything when Minho is wrapped around him like this, warmth radiating between them, Minho’s slow breaths tickling Jisung’s forehead.
Before he knows it, Jisung is fast asleep.
☆
Jisung wakes up alone in his bed, tucked neatly under the covers. His phone is plugged in on his nightstand, beside it a cup of water waits for him. Jisung drinks it in one gulp, feeling hungover despite not having anything to drink the night before. He glances blearily around his room, finding it tidier than it was the night before; his maid costume, instead of being a heap on the floor, is draped nicely over the back of his desk chair.
“Oh fuck,” Jisung yelps, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth. Memories of the night before slam into him like a bag of bricks – Felix’s plan, the costume, the hosting, the slipping, the Minho. Jisung moves his fingers away from his lips just to put them back in his mouth as he starts to anxiously chew at his fingernails.
Jisung grabs his phone with his free hand and powers on the screen, just to find – yeah. A text from Minho.
Morning Jisungie, how are you feeling?
Jisung chews thoughtfully on his fingernails. He should lie, probably. Say he’s fine and definitely doesn’t remember anything weird happening between them. Maybe Minho won’t bring it up? Who’s he kidding – Minho is his most communicative friend. It’s more of a surprise his first message didn’t call Jisung out outright.
Jisung sighs and goes for the truth.
better. thanks hyung. sorry again
No need to apologize to me, glad you’re feeling better
Jisung waits for the next text to come through, moving onto the next fingernail. There’s not a chance that Minho just… lets him off, right?
Do you want to talk about last night?
no thank you!
We should talk about last night
And Jisung – stupid, spacey, Jisung – feels his heart sore and his brain fuzz a little bit at the command. He shakes his head and focuses back on his phone, which has buzzed with another notification.
Meet you at the coffee shop near my place? Noon?
sounds good hyung
Jisung glances at the time. He has two hours to come up with some sort of… cover story. Some reason why he’d gone into space during a fucking party. Maybe he could lie, say it had never happened before and he didn’t know, but he’d admitted last night that he hadn’t meant to slip so far. Jisung lays his head in his hands and screams.
“Where is it!?” Felix yells, bursting his way into Jisung’s room. He’s holding one slipper over his head, scanning the room fervently for what, Jisung’s assumes, is a spider. “I’ll save you, Ji, tell me where it is.”
“If by it you mean big fat idiot, he’s right here,” Jisung mutters, falling back against his pillow. He hides his face in his hands and groans. “Felix, I’m so fucking stupid.”
With his eyes closed, the memories become so clear – Minho leading him back to his room with a firm hand on his waist, Minho picking out his sleep clothes, Minho bringing him back up to the surface and holding him while he broke down. Every time Jisung tries to clear the memories, Minho pops back up like a particularly beautiful – no, annoying – fly.
Felix’s arm drops back to his side. He pads across Jisung’s room, his one bare foot slapping loudly against the floor. “Why do you say that?”
Jisung peeks between his fingers. “I slipped last night. Bad.”
Felix’s face falls. His slipper hangs limply from his hand. “Why didn’t you come find me?”
“Minho hyung found me first. Waiting for Innie on the couch. I asked for you but you were ah- busy.”
Felix at least has the decency to blush. Jisung is sure Chan is still asleep in Felix’s bed, as it’s the only place he ever seems to fall asleep at all. Jisung sits up again, his fingers finding their way back into his mouth.
“Fuck, Felix. Hyung, he– he brought me back up. And then I cried on him for like, ten minutes. He wants to meet at noon. What am I gonna do?”
“Well, was he good at it?” Felix asks, and Jisung stares at him, blinks once, twice, three times, a habit he picked up from Minho. Jisung shakes his head. “I’m just saying–”
“I’m not asking Minho hyung to–”
“It could solve all your problems–”
“No, Felix!” Jisung shouts. Felix blinks at him, and Jisung lowers his voice when he says, “I can’t do that. I already involved him once without his permission. He’s probably– he probably thinks I’m insane. I don’t know how I’m even going to explain myself today, much less ask him to do it again.”
Felix sighs, resting a hand on Jisung’s blanket-covered knee. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I just think that, if given the chance, Minho hyung would take a literal bullet for you, Jisungie. This doesn’t seem like a huge ask. You asked me, before.”
“You’re – well. You’re you,” Jisung says. “Hyung is hyung.”
Felix nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. He ruffles Jisung’s hair before leaving the room with a promise to make breakfast. Jisung falls back against his bed and curls up under his blankets. His bed still smells faintly of Minho, and Jisung sighs.
He’s probably overreacting, making whatever happened last night out to be more than it is. It’s just – his crush on Minho is Jisung’s most well-contained secret, aside from the, y’know, subspace thing. The only person who knows is Felix, but if the way Hyunjin raises his eyebrows in the way and Seungmin scoffs at him constantly, Jisung is sure that the others have picked up on it. Minho is either blind, or polite enough to not acknowledge Jisung’s obvious thirst over his best friend.
The slipping complicates things exponentially, because even though Jisung hates to admit it, Minho was good at taking care of him. He kept a gentle hand on Jisung’s back until he fell asleep, tracing nonsense patterns against his skin. He’d picked out Jisung’s most comfortable pajamas without Jisung having to ask. He’d kept a firm grip on Jisung as he’d led him through the apartment, refusing to let him stray too far. He was perfect, without Jisung even having to explain anything to him.
The truth of the matter is that, ever since the first time they met, Minho has made Jisung feel understood. Something about Minho just gets Jisung, and Jisung gets him in return. They don’t have to talk, or overexplain. They just know. The thought settles Jisung’s anxiety, if only marginally. Minho gets him. He’s not going to cast Jisung aside just for this one thing.
Hopefully.
☆
Minho is already waiting at their usual table when Jisung gets to the cafe. There’s two coffees and a slice of cheesecake in front of him. Minho is looking at his phone when Jisung approaches him, but looks up with a small smile when Jisung scoots his chair out loudly against the floor.
“Hey, Sungie,” Minho says. He pushes the cake and one of the coffees towards him. “How are you feeling?”
“You asked me that already this morning,” Jisung says quietly to avoid telling the truth – he’s nervous. He’s never nervous around Minho, but right now he’s terrified. The conviction he’d felt earlier that Minho wouldn’t cast him aside is gone, replaced with a stomach full of butterflies now that he’s actually here. Minho fixes him with a look, and Jisung wets his lips before he whispers, “I’m really nervous.”
“Jisungie,” Minho says sadly. He reaches his hand across the table, palm up. Jisung’s are hidden under the table, where he rips at the skin around his fingernails away with his thumbs. “Why on earth would you be nervous? It’s just hyung.”
Jisung glances around the cafe. There’s a couple a few tables away from them, talking quietly with their heads bowed together. Near the entrance, there’s an older woman drinking tea and completing a crossword. They’re somewhat secluded in their little section, but they’re definitely not alone.
Jisung curls into himself a bit. “I– I just…”
Minho waits patiently, but Jisung doesn’t continue. Instead, he looks down at his hands and presses his thumb into the side of his finger where blood has welled up under his ministrations.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Minho asks quietly, curling his hand closed. Jisung nods, and Minho quickly gathers their drinks and the packaged cheesecake. He stands, and Jisung follows suit. “Let’s go to my place, yeah? Can you carry this for me?”
Jisung nods again and takes the coffee Minho is holding out, and then, to try and prove he’s a fully functioning adult, takes the cheesecake too. Minho smiles at him, and Jisung’s heart flutters. Good. He’s making Minho happy.
Minho curls his arm into Jisung’s, leading him out of the cafe with a firm hand on his bicep. It’s reminiscent of the way he led Jisung through his own apartment just yesterday, and Jisung feels himself starting to loosen. Leaning into the feeling of someone else taking the lead.
Jisung follows just behind Minho, falling into step diligently. He holds tight onto his coffee and cake, not wanting to drop them, not wanting to waste Minho’s money or, God forbid, disappoint him. He nods along easily to whatever Minho is talking about – Jisung doesn’t really know. He just knows that he feels happy, relaxed, and that his heart flutters in his chest every time Minho turns to smile at him.
It’s not until they’re in the hallway of Minho’s apartment building that Jisung thinks to himself, oh fuck. It’s happening again.
Minho opens the door and steps inside, and Jisung takes a deep breath to steel himself. It’s okay. He’s going to go inside this apartment and have a hard conversation while feeling a little floaty and out of it, but that’s okay. It’s going to be okay.
“Sung-ah, you coming in?” Minho asks. He’s bent over untying his shoes, so he thankfully can’t see the way Jisung violently shakes his head to try and clear the fog from his brain. It doesn’t stop him, however, from noticing Jisung’s lack of reply. “Jisungie?”
“Sorry hyung! I’m coming!” Jisung yelps, stepping into the apartment. He quickly kicks off his shoes, but in his rush, some of the coffee sloshes out of the open mouth of the cup onto the floor. Minho immediately moves to the kitchen to grab a rag, while Jisung stares at the spill, trying his best not to hate himself.
This is it, he thinks. He can’t act normal around Minho for even a second, and now look what he’s done – made a mess. Jisung feels his eyes start to sting, and blinks rapidly to try and get it to go away.
“Watch out, Jisung, don’t step in it with your socks on,” Minho warns, bending down to clean the small spill.
“S-sorry,” Jisung mutters, stepping away from the spill. He has his coffee and cake clutched to his chest like armor, like maybe if he holds on tight enough, Minho won’t notice anything amiss. As long as he can collect himself before Minho looks up from the floor, maybe everything will be okay.
“Why are you– oh, Jisung?” Minho asks, looking up at Jisung from his place on the floor. Jisung looks up at the ceiling, blinking quickly. Minho moves towards him and gently takes Jisung’s chin in his hand, forcing him to look back down. Minho’s eyes scan his face quickly. “Is it happening again?”
“Sorry,” Jisung whispers, his voice thick with emotion. The coffee cup shakes in his grip.
“No, no sorries. Come sit with hyung,” Minho says softly, leading Jisung to his couch. Minho takes the coffee and the cheesecake and sets them down on the coffee table before guiding Jisung down onto the couch and giving him a pillow to clutch instead. “Was it something I did?”
“No!” Jisung shouts, how could he make Minho think this is fault? “It’s just – I’m sensitive, and I– you– I want to make you happy.”
Minho nods slowly, his lips pursed in what looks like confusion. Jisung isn’t explaining himself well. Before he can try and stutter over another explanation, Minho asks, “is it because I asked you to carry something for me?”
Jisung thinks it over before nodding pitifully. That’s probably when it started, this time. With the gentle request for Jisung to carry his own items. God. Jisung closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Eyes still closed, he adds, “and you– you led me here. Like yesterday.”
“Okay, okay,” Minho says quietly. Jisung feels the couch dip, and then there’s a hand on his back, tracing the same nonsense path it did the night before. “I’ll try not to… tell you what to do anymore, yeah?”
Jisung nods. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Jisung,” Minho says. He sucks air in through his teeth. “Sorry.”
Jisung laughs a little wetly and leans more heavily into Minho’s hand. The room around them is quiet while Jisung gathers himself, and eventually he opens his eyes to find Minho already looking at him, a furrow between his eyebrows.
“It’s– I’m–” Jisung takes a deep breath. The hand on his back never stops moving. “Have you heard of sub space?”
Minho nods, and Jisung tries valiantly to ignore the tightness in his chest as Minho’s knowledge. Who taught him this before? Why does he know? Has he done this for other people before? Jisung licks his lips nervously. “Okay, that’s… that’s what this is.”
“Okay,” Minho says quietly. “That’s great, Jisungie. Thank you for telling me. Is… am I helping you? Come up?” When Jisung nods, Minho smiles. Jisung’s stomach does a happy tumble. “That’s good. You’re doing good, Jisung.”
Jisung’s heart sings, and then he cringes. “Maybe, ah– don’t, with the um, praise.”
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry,” Minho says. It’s quiet for a few moments, and then Minho asks, “can I ask you some questions? Is that okay?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Jisung says. He’s already starting to feel more clear-headed. A few more minutes of Minho’s gentle touch and he should be right as rain.
“Why’s this happening all the sudden?” Minho asks. “I lead you around all the time. I’m pretty sure Seungmin speaks in nothing but commands.”
Jisung nods. That’s a fair question. “I, um, usually have someone help me. But I haven’t gotten to um, drop, in a while, and so it’s just– I’m just sensitive, I think.”
“Someone?” Minho asks, wrinkling his nose. “Not a stranger, right?”
There’s something in Minho’s tone that Jisung’s brain tries to latch onto, but can’t get a grip on. It sounds – disappointed? Concerned? Jealous, maybe? Jisung can’t put his finger on it, his brain is moving too slow.
“No! It’s um, it’s Felix. But with Channie hyung finally making a move, Felix said he couldn’t help anymore. Which is fine! It makes sense, and I um, respect that, I just– I’ve been kind of, pent up, I guess, and when I go too long it just gets… easy. To fall.”
Minho nods again. “So the maid costume, the helping, it was… on purpose?”
“Not exactly,” Jisung admits. “I didn’t mean for it to… go so far. I just wanted to feel better.”
Before he knows it, Jisung is tearing up again, because it’s just that simple – he just wanted to feel better. And now he’s subjected Minho to taking care of him, twice, because his stupid brain can’t regulate on its own and he needs someone else to take the reins of his life sometimes. Wordlessly, Minho pulls Jisung into his side and holds him tight. Jisung curls into him and grips Minho’s shirt, burying his face in Minho’s neck.
“Thank you for trusting me, Jisungie,” Minho says quietly.
“Thank you for not… hating me,” Jisung responds.
Jisung feels Minho shake his head in disbelief. “As if I could ever.”
The tension in Jisung’s body immediately drains out of him, and he slumps against Minho like a puppet with the strings cut.
☆
Jisung’s back hurts. He’s been hunched over his computer for hours, trying desperately to figure out why his beat isn’t working like he wants it to. His eyes sting because he’s not wearing his glasses and his contacts started bothering him a while ago. Even his ears hurt from the press of his headphones against them, but he has to keep working. He has to get this done.
His phone keeps buzzing near his elbow, notifications from his group chat with his friends lighting up the screen every few moments. He’s supposed to be at Hyunjin’s right now, eating ramen and drinking with his friends, but instead he’s alone in the studio agonizing over the same sixteen measures. Even Chan is out of the studio, but Jisung is pretty sure that has more to do with the fact that Felix came and got him than it does with Chan’s own ability to drag himself away from his work.
Jisung reaches out to flip his phone over, but as soon as he touches it, it starts buzzing with a call. Jisung slips his headphones off his ears with a sigh.
“Hi, hyung,” he says.
“If you don’t get your perky ass to Hyunjin’s in the next twenty minutes I’m sending Minho hyung after you,” Changbin says, his voice too loud even through the speaker. Jisung cringes away from his phone, holding it a safe distance away from his ear. Now that he’s not staring at his computer screen, he’s noticing the dull ache around his temples. How long has it been since he drank water? He looks around for his discarded water bottle, only finding empty coffee cups on his desk.
Jisung rubs at his eyes. “I’ve got to get this song done–”
Changbin interrupts him with a heaving sigh. “The song will still be there tomorrow–”
“That’s exactly the problem–”
“Minho hyung!” Changbin screams, not having the decency to pull his mouth away from the receiver. Jisung cringes. “Jisung is arguing with me!”
Jisung hears rustling as the phone is obviously handed to a new person, and then Minho’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Jisung-ah. Why are you still working?”
There’s something about Minho’s voice, even warped as it is through the phone, that makes Jisung feel more at ease. Some of the tension rolls off his shoulders, and he slumps back in his chair. He’s starting to realize how tired he is.
Jisung sighs. “This song, hyung. It’s not working.”
Minho hums thoughtfully. Jisung can picture the face he’s making, lips pursed, eyebrows a little furrowed. “Channie says you’ve been stuck on the same bit for days.”
Jisung glares at his computer screen. It shines back at him a menacing blue. “Yeah, and I’m– I’m close to a breakthrough, I know it. I can’t leave right now.”
“I think you should come to Hyunjin’s,” Minho says, and Jisung’s brain immediately agrees. If his Minho hyung wants him there, he should definitely go. He’s going to pack up his stuff right now and–
“Hyung, that’s not fair,” Jisung whispers, as if there’s anyone else in the studio to hear him.
The line is quiet for a few moments. “Right. You’re right, Sung-ah. Stay and work as long as you need, okay? But promise you’ll come to the next one, yeah? And text hyung when you head home.”
Jisung takes a deep breath. He can do that. He tells Minho as much, and Minho makes a pleased sound before hanging up the phone. Jisung rubs at his eyes and turns back to his computer screen.
When he finally leaves, he makes sure to text Minho. The message has been delivered for less than a minute before Jisung’s phone is buzzing with a reply.
headed home, hyung!
Good.
Jisung shivers.
☆
Jisung lays on Changbin’s couch, pillow clutched to his chest, his eyes closed. Changbin and Hyunjin are in the kitchen, arguing over something inane. Jisung is pretty sure that arguing is their way of flirting with each other, so he doesn’t step in to mediate – plus, he’s so tired. The only reason he’s here right now instead of at the studio is because he made a promise to Minho to come to their next friend get together, and Jisung regrets it.
After he’d finally turned his last song over to the artist, his manager had called with another producing opportunity that Jisung just couldn’t turn down, even though the deadline was tight. He’s been in the studio this week even more than he was the week prior, eating little and sleeping even less, and he feels exhausted. He doesn’t have much energy for much of anything, much less socializing, but he promised. So here he is.
Jisung hears the front door open and more of his friends tumble into the apartment, all laughing about something. He immediately picks up on Minho’s squeaking laugh, and a part of Jisung – eases. He’s not sure when his body started acknowledging Minho as his safe person, as a presence that means Jisung can relax, but Jisung finds he doesn’t mind. He does feel safe with Minho.
“Are you sleeping, Jisungie?” Jisung squints an eye open to find Minho hovering over him. Jisung shakes his head, and Minho smiles. “Good – we’re putting in orders for Thai. What do you want?”
Jisung blinks up at Minho, turning the question over in his head. What does he want? He’s been making decisions all day – overlay that beat here; no, this section doesn’t need autotuned; yes, he’s sure; there should be a rap section inserted before the chorus – and he doesn’t feel like making one about his dinner.
Jisung shrugs. “Decide for me?”
Minho nods and turns back towards the kitchen, before stopping in his tracks. He turns back to Jisung and asks very quietly, almost in a whisper, “you feeling okay, Sung-ah?”
Jisung nods and sits up on the couch. “Yeah, just tired. I’m okay, hyung. Do you– would it be better if I decided? I can come look at the menu.”
Minho shakes his head and reaches forward to pat down a section of Jisung’s hair that must be mussed up. Jisung leans into the touch, letting his eyes flutter closed. “I can decide, don’t worry about that. Just… let me know if you need anything, yeah?”
Jisung nods, his eyes still closed. Minho pats his head before making his way back to the kitchen. Jisung overhears him telling Changbin their orders, and Jisung slumps against the back of the couch. He just wants to sleep.
Jisung dozes, listening to his friends talk and laugh in the kitchen. No one seems bothered by the fact that Jisung isn’t truly participating in their weekly hangout, but for that, Jisung is grateful. The conversations act a bit as white noise, even when Changbin yells randomly, and it lulls Jisung to sleep. He only stirs when he hears conversation surrounding him.
“He’s drooling.”
“Ayen, don’t take a picture, c’mon.”
“Should we wake him up for dinner?”
“I can carry him to my room and he can nap in my bed – he’s been working too hard.”
“He should eat, I think.”
Jisung blinks his eyes open to find his group of friends all staring at him in various stages of endearment. Chan and Felix are clutching each other, looking one second away from grabbing Jisung’s cheeks. Seungmin stands with his takeout in one hand and chopsticks in the other, shoveling food into his mouth like Jisung isn’t even there.
“Food?” Jisung asks, voice gravelly. Minho nods and hands him a black takeout box, chopsticks resting delicately on the top. Jisung glances into the box. Pad Thai. His favorite. Jisung smiles appreciatively at Minho, who tries to wink at him, but it comes across as more of a blink.
They all hunker down in Changbin’s living room to eat, and Jisung, admittedly, floats in and out of the conversation. He’s happy to be with his friends, but exhaustion still clings to his every movement. Beside him, Minho keeps glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.
When the others get distracted trying to pick a movie, Minho leans in close and whispers, “Sung-ah, doing okay?”
Jisung nods sleepily. “Fine. I told you, hyung, just tired.”
“Tired, or…” Minho trails off, but Jisung knows what he’s suggesting and quickly shakes his head. No, he’s not slipping in public again. Minho nods and licks his lips, sparing a glance over his shoulder before turning back to Jisung. “Chan hyung and Binnie say you’ve been spending extra time at work again, is that true?”
Jisung groans, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah, my manager is trying to kill me, I think. But I’ll be okay.”
“Jisungie,” Minho says, and Jisung opens his eyes to find Minho very close to him. “If you ever– if you need– I can–”
“Spit it out, hyung,” Jisung teases. He’s never seen Minho this tongue tied.
Minho reaches out and pinches Jisung very lightly on the stomach. “I’m trying to say that if you ever need to… you know.” He gives Jisung a very serious look, and Jisung’s brain finally gets with the program. Is Minho offering–? “I’d… help you. I’d take care of you. If you needed someone.”
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
“Hyung–”
“You don’t have to say yes, I just wanted to put it on the table,” Minho interrupts.
Jisung’s tired brain is reeling. Minho is offering to drop him? Right here in front of all their friends? “Why?”
“Because I– because you’re stressed, Sungie. And if I know what will help, I want to help,” Minho says. He licks his lips again. “But like I said, no pressure.”
“Yes,” Jisung blurts, surprising even himself. Before Minho can respond, Jisung keeps talking. “Please, hyung. I– I would love– it would be really helpful– I– please.”
Minho smiles a little bit, and Jisung doesn’t know how to read it. All he knows is that Minho is offering to drop him, and there’s nothing in the world that Jisung wants more. Minho reaches out and pats Jisung’s cheek affectionately.
“We’ll talk about it more soon, okay? I need to do some reading before we jump right into it,” Minho says, and Jisung deflates. In his mind he thought that maybe Minho would start telling him what to do, and would start making decisions for him, right away. He already has, with the dinner choice – what’s a few more small commands to really turn Jisung’s night around? Minho laughs softly and pokes Jisung’s bottom lip. Jisung hadn’t even realized he’d been pouting. “Soon, Sungie, I promise.”
☆
Jisung hovers outside of Minho’s apartment, biting at the skin around his thumb. He’s practically buzzing with nervous energy. He almost called Minho and cancelled their meeting today. But he’s been so stressed, and his brain knows what it needs – which is to not think for a little bit. And Minho is going to help him.
Minho opens the door without Jisung having to knock. “Hey, Sungie, are you gonna come in?” He asks, peeking his head into the hallway. Jisung can’t help but notice how soft Minho looks. His hair looks freshly washed and fluffy; he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a too-big shirt. The sleeves come down almost to his forearms. It’s a rare thing, seeing Minho like this. Usually he’s at least partially put together, or has an air of confidence around him that suggests he won’t be fucked with. But right now he just looks… cozy. Warm. Like something Jisung could melt into.
“Hi, Hyung," Jisung replies, trying to smile. He’s sure it comes off like more of a deranged grimace. He’s just so nervous. He knows Minho offered and would never, ever, judge him, but – still. There are butterflies wreaking havoc in Jisung’s tummy.
Jisung just keeps reminding himself that he trusts Minho more than anyone in the world. Even before the first… incident… Minho has been safe, for Jisung. He’s taken all his oddities and quirks in stride. He’s never made Jisung feel weird, or othered, and Jisung keeps telling himself that this won’t be any different. Minho is going to take care of him, just like he always has.
Jisung follows Minho into the apartment, kicking off his shoes. He moves them onto the shoe rack, noticing how neatly Minho’s are all aligned next to the door. When he straightens back up, JIsung finds Minho looking at him a little – proud? Is that the right word? He’s looking at Jisung like Jisung did something right, and good, and it makes Jisung’s heart flutter in his chest.
“Come sit for a minute?” Minho asks, motioning towards the couch with his chin. They’d already talked about the scene beforehand, over the phone, because Jisung thought he’d be less likely to slip with Minho not physically in front of him. They’d decided that Jisung would help Minho clean his apartment – an easy task for his body to complete on auto pilot while his brain takes a vacation.
Jisung is quick to oblige, moving to the couch and sitting down on the edge of it. Nerves keep his back ramrod straight. Minho sits down next to him, looking infinitely more relaxed than Jisung feels.
“I just wanted to talk about something really quickly, before we get started. Is that okay?” Minho asks. Jisung nods, already somewhat affected by the tone Minho is using to talk to him. Minho reaches out and puts a gentle hand on Jisung’s thigh. “I need you to stay up with me while we talk, Jisungie. Tell me you will.”
“Y-yeah, hyung,” Jisung says, his brain already moving slower. It’s going to be hard, with Minho talking to him like that, but Jisung is going to try his best. He’s going to do good. “I will. I promise.”
“Good. Thank you,” Minho says. The butterflies in Jisung’s stomach take flight once more. “I was doing some research, and I’d like us to use the traffic light system so I can keep track of how you’re doing, okay? Green means–”
“Go, yellow means pause, red means stop,” Jisung finishes. He beams when Minho smiles at him. He’s doing so good.
“Exactly. But if you feel like that’s too much, I want you to tap me, okay? One tap for green, two for yellow, three for stop. I think that’s important in case you get too… overwhelmed… to speak. Like at the party. Does that sound good?”
“Yeah, hyung, that sounds good,” Jisung breathes. It sounds more than good. It sounds like Minho did his research, and that he cares, and it’s making Jisung’s brain fuzzy. He clears his throat. “I think… is that it? I think– this conversation– it’s making me a little–”
Minho smiles softly at him. “Two sentences and you’re already slipping? My Jisungie has been so stressed, hasn’t he?”
Jisung nods, his mouth falling open dumbly. He has been stressed. He’s been at the studio at least ten hours everyday for the past two weeks; Jisung thinks maybe he’s started to become one with his office chair. Because of the long hours, he hasn’t been eating well, and because he hasn’t been eating, it’s hard to sleep, and because it’s hard to sleep it’s hard to wake up, and – it’s been weighing on him. Heavily.
Already, Jisung feels some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders. He doesn’t have to think today – his Minho hyung is going to do it for him.
Minho reaches out and pets Jisung's hair. Jisung leans heavily into the touch. “That’s okay. We’ll get you feeling better in no time. Want to help hyung with the dishes?”
Jisung nods again, feeling his conscious self retreat further into his brain. He doesn’t need to think. He just has to obey. Jisung stands from the couch, a little wobbly on his feet already, and follows Minho into the kitchen. The dishes in the sink are sparse, all plastic, and Jisung feels something inside of him preen. Minho knew Jisung might be a little unsteady. He knew not to use good glass or ceramic for their little day together. The idea makes Jisung feel dumb in the best way.
“Do you want to wash or dry?” Minho asks, and Jisung blinks at him. He doesn’t want to decide. Jisung shakes his head, and Minho seems to get the hint. He smiles. “Let me wash, yeah? Then you can dry and put them away. I’ll tell you where they go.”
Jisung smiles and stations himself next to the sink with a rag. He watches as Minho pulls on his dishwashing gloves and soaps up the sponge, letting himself slip further into himself. The last time Felix had dropped him, Felix had been doing his makeup. Between the gentle touches to his face and the quiet commands to turn this way or close your eyes or look up now, baby, Jisung had receded so far into himself that he almost went non-verbal.
Jisung takes the dishes that Minho offers him and dries them one by one, taking extra care to make sure no wet spots are left behind. He doesn’t want to leave water marks and disappoint his hyung.
“Second cabinet, first shelf, Jisungie,” Minho says, handing Jisung a new plate to dry. Jisung dries it slowly, his movements starting to become more labored. As he turns to put it away, he stumbles slightly, his limbs feeling too big for his brain to control. Jisung makes a panicked sound, not wanting to drop the plate. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it won’t break, or, even if it did, Minho wouldn’t be upset with him. But that part feels too far away to grasp, and Jisung clutches the plate to his chest instead of making any move to balance himself.
Suddenly there are wet hands on his waist, steadying Jisung easily. Jisung can feel Minho’s breath on the back of his neck from where he’s standing so close.
“I’ve got you, Jisungie,” Minho mutters, and Jisung almost doesn’t hear him for how good he feels. His brain is empty, just the sensations of the plate in his hands and Minho’s hands around his waist tethering him to the earth. Minho isn’t even that big here, but his hands make Jisung feel small, small, small. “Go ahead and slide that into the cabinet and we’ll be done with the dishes.”
Jisung does, almost reluctantly. He doesn’t want Minho’s hands off of him. He wants Minho to hold him, maybe to guide him around with a hand on his waist. Maybe on the back of his neck. He doesn’t want to think about what comes next or where to go or how to be. Jisung wants to let Minho make all those decisions for him.
“Good bo– job, Jisungie. Good job,” Minho says when Jisung shuts the cabinet door. Jisung turns diligently towards Minho, waiting for his next command. Minho tilts his head a little bit, his eyes sparkly. Jisung hopes Minho knows how pretty he is. Maybe he’ll tell him, when he feels capable of forming a coherent thought again. “You’re in pretty deep, huh, Jisungie?”
Jisung could answer. He could. A simple yes, hyung, would be easy. But Jisung’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, his brain feels soupy and slow, and so he reaches out to gently tap Minho on the arm, just once.
Minho looks surprised. “Oh, are you– really? Okay. Okay.” Minho seems to take a deep breath, and Jisung almost worries that he’s being too much. He’s too deep. He should say something. Jisung scrunches up his face and opens his mouth, trying to find words, something placating, but he can’t. Minho must notice his distress, because he’s quick to remove his dish gloves and cup Jisung’s face in his hands. “You don’t have to speak, Jisungie. It’s okay, hyung was just surprised. Thank you for trusting me so much.”
Jisung snaps his mouth closed with an appreciative hum. Minho runs his thumbs over Jisung’s cheekbones before pulling away. Jisung barely has time to mourn the loss before Minho is saying, “let’s go change my bedsheets. It’s laundry day.”
Jisung nods and thinks that Minho is going to turn and walk toward the bedroom, but then – then Minho is reaching out and grabbing onto Jisung’s bicep. He tugs gently, and Jisung follows, faithful as a dog.
His brain is somewhere else entirely. There is only the feeling of his feet on the floor, and Minho’s hand on his arm. Jisung floats throughout the stripping of Minho’s bed, his mouth hanging open dumbly. He feels good. So good. Minho leaves him, only momentarily, to start the washer, while Jisung stares at the new linens, trying to figure out how to put on the fitted sheet. His hands feel like they’ve lost all dexterity. They’re probably no better than having paws.
Jisung shivers.
“Cold, Jisungie?” Minho asks, stepping back into the room. Jisung shakes his head, albeit slowly. Minho looks down at the unmade bed and tuts. “Couldn’t figure it out by yourself? Need hyung to help you?”
Jisung blinks dumbly, his brain taking in the somewhat condescending nature of Minho’s tone. Felix never talked to him like this, always calling Jisung angel and baby and sweetest boy. Jisung shivers again.
“Hey, Jisungie, okay?” Minho asks, rounding the bed. He holds out his hand. “Give me some taps, please.”
Jisung reaches up and taps once in the middle of Minho’s hand. Then he laces their fingers together and steps into Minho’s personal space, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder. Minho’s free hand immediately comes up to rub his back.
“If we make the bed again we can lay down for a little bit. Would you like that?” Minho asks, his voice soft. Jisung squeezes Minho’s hand one time. “Okay, you have to let go of me so we can do that. How about I put on the sheets and you put on the blankets?"
Jisung stands back and watches, floating somewhere else entirely, as Minho makes the bed again. When it’s his turn to do the blankets, Jisung moves slowly, draping and redraping the blankets across the bed until he thinks they look perfect.
When he’s done, Jisung turns to Minho, waiting.
“Good job, Jisungie,” Minho says easily. Then he pulls Jisung down onto the bed and draws him in close. Jisung curls easily into Minho’s side, feeling so small pressed up against him. Minho runs a hand across Jisung’s back, those same nonsense patterns from before.
Jisung feels his eyes start to droop, and he falls asleep to the sound of Minho’s gentle praises in his ear.
☆
After the first time – the first official time – Jisung starts to feel greedy. He wants Minho to drop him all the time. The nap he took at Minho’s house was the best sleep he’d had in a long, long while, and Jisung would be lying if he said he didn’t want that again. If he said he didn’t long for the feeling of being a little dumb, of letting someone else take the reins.
Felix immediately notices a change in him, and Jisung thanks the Gods above that he and Chan finally worked their shit out, because Chan is just distracting enough that Felix never manages to pin Jisung down to force him to talk about it. It’s not that Jisung doesn’t want Felix to know about Minho, it’s just– it feels nice, having this thing that’s just his. A special bond with his hyung that’s just between the two of them.
Jisung thinks he does a pretty good job at acting normal, especially now that he’s gotten what he needs. He no longer slips into that place between here and there when Minho so much as grabs onto him, and he’s been sleeping and eating like normal. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss the feeling of not having to think though.
It begins again almost unconsciously.
They’re at dinner, all eight of them, crowded around a barbecue table with Minho and Chan taking turns manning the grill. Jisung is squished between Minho and Changbin, and even though they’re all about the same height, Jisung feels so small shoved between them. Because Minho is kept so busy by the grill, Jisung takes it upon himself to dutifully refill Minho’s water cup, to bring pieces of meat to his awaiting mouth, to pass Minho extra banchan and napkins whenever he needs it.
Jisung doesn’t think he’s being obvious, but across the table, Seungmin points a chopstick at him accusingly. “What are you, his manservant?”
Jisung, who’d been refilling Minho’s nearly-full water glass, startles and drips some onto the table. He immediately balks at his wrongdoing, flashbacks of spilling coffee in Minho’s apartment rushing over him in a wave. Fuck, he’s doing it again.
“N-no,” Jisung chokes, reaching for a pile of napkins to clean his spill. Beside him, Minho is still distracted by the grill. He’s about to put his elbow in the puddle of water.
“Yah! Maybe Jisung just respects his hyung,” Hyunjin says, pointing a chopstick at Seungmin. “You might be able to learn some things from him!”
As they bicker across the table, Jisung takes care to wipe up his spill and discard the napkins. Beside him, Minho mutters, “okay, Jisungie?”
Jisung takes a minute to think. He knows what Minho is asking him, at this point. Does he feel floaty? The answer is… inconclusive. Jisung feels like, with the right kind of attention, he’d easily slip over the edge, out of his conscious self and into something else. He also feels like, if he tries hard enough, he can keep himself from slipping at all.
Jisung must take too long to answer, because Minho turns fully away from the grill to look at him. And – yeah. He’s feeling a little glossy-eyed. Minho scans carefully over his face before he turns nonchalantly back to the grill. In one hand, he picks up the tongs, while the other slides under the table to hold firmly onto Jisung’s thigh.
Almost unconsciously, Jisung feels himself unwind further. His brain doesn’t go anywhere else, but his body feels – safe. Comforted. He sits quietly and lets Minho pay him special attention, giving him the first slices of meat off the grill or preparing him little bits of ssam that he feeds to Jisung out of his own hand. It’s all very normal, from the outside looking in – all their friends like to dote on each other like this – but it makes Jisung feel extra cared for in this moment.
Chewing on his food, Jisung glances up, feeling eyes on him. At the other end of the table sits Felix, almost entirely in Chan’s lap, and he’s looking at Jisung. Like – looking at him. Like he knows something Jisung doesn’t. Felix’s eyes flitter between Jisung and Minho, and then he raises his eyebrows suggestively.
Jisung shakes his head but can’t help the blush on his cheeks. Of course Felix would find him out – it only makes sense, with the way that Jisung has been so much less stressed these past few weeks.
Jisung feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he pulls it out to see a text from his best friend.
i know what you are
Jisung looks back up and Felix sticks his tongue out at him, but then gives him a look that very clearly states we’ll talk about this later.
For now, Jisung opens his mouth for Minho’s awaiting chopsticks and lets himself get lost.
☆
This time, when Minho drops Jisung to that far away, floating place, Jisung thinks to himself, there has to be a way to pay him back. His Minho hyung has been so good to him, leading Jisung through a simple recipe and even feeding it to him afterward, and now Minho is rubbing Jisung’s back and whispering soft praises into his ear. There has to be something Jisung can do for him, in return.
When it was him and Felix, Jisung knew that Felix got pleasure from bossing Jisung around. They never did anything together, but Jisung knew that taking care of him was just as much a release for him as it was for Felix.
As he lays in Minho’s bed, Jisung thinks back to the most recent dinner they had, all eight of them together, where Minho had lamented a series of bad hookups. The conversation had happened while Jisung was hovering in that space between here and there, and he doesn’t remember why it had come up, but it dawns on Jisung, then, what he can do for his hyung.
Sure, Jisung has never found subdrop particularly sexual, but that doesn’t mean that Minho doesn’t enjoy it – enjoy him – in the same way Felix had. Jisung could– Jisung will offer to get Minho off, as repayment. It’ll be good for everyone! Even if Jisung doesn’t get off, it’s bound to feel good, right? Taking care of someone else for a change.
“What are you thinking about, Jisungie?” Minho asks, threading Jisung’s hair through his fingers.
Jisung looks up at him, positively beaming. He’s come up with the perfect plan, and he’s going to make his Minho hyung feel so good – he’s going to be so good. He’s going to make Minho come however Minho wants him to. He’s going to make Minho feel safe and cared for the same way Minho does for Jisung. It’s perfect.
“Hyung,” Jisung says. His speech is still a little slow, his brain still moving a few beats behind normal, but he can’t wait to tell Minho his plan. Maybe he’ll just offer right now. That’s perfect. He can start showing his appreciation right away. “Do you want me to get you off?”
Under his head, Jisung feels Minho’s legs tense. Jisung refocuses his eyes – when had he started to stare off? – to find Minho looking at him, his face a little pinched. Oh no. What did he do? Minho doesn’t say anything for long enough that Jisung starts to feel distressed. He sits up in bed, one foot in, one foot out of the soft floaty space, and asks, “Hyung?”
“Why– why would you do that?” Minho asks. He won’t look Jisung in the eyes.
“Um, I thought–” Fuck, Jisung’s brain is moving too slowly for this. What is happening? His Minho hyung usually always understands him. Jisung never has to explain himself, not to Minho. Jisung moves to crawl off the bed, his legs wobbly underneath him. Does Minho just not want that? Or does he not want Jisung? Has Jisung over stepped? Has he proven himself to be too much? “N-never mind. I’m gonna go, I think.”
“Jisung, wait a second,” Minho says, crawling off the bed after him. “You can’t leave like this.”
Jisung keeps making his way towards Minho’s front door. Fuck, he feels weird. Like his body is split between that happy, floaty place, and reality. “I- I’m fine, hyung. I’m okay.”
“Jisungie, let me explain,” Minho says, but Jisung ignores him in favor of putting on his shoes. He’s got one of them tied when Minho says, “Jisung, stop.”
Jisung immediately stops tying his shoes and looks up at Minho, feeling his world gloss over once more. Minho told him to stop, so he will. He has no other choice. Minho– Minho knows what’s best.
“Fuck, Jisung, just – listen to me, yeah? For just a second,” Minho says. “You– you offered something that I don’t think you really mean.”
Jisung shakes his head. He wouldn’t have offered it if he didn’t mean it. He wants to – no, needs to – do something to pay Minho back. And he knows exactly what Minho needs, because Minho has already told him. Why won’t Minho just let him help?
“No,” Jisung says. He stands up and shakes his head. “I– I want to do something for you. You help me… so much. And I want to– I want to make you feel good too, hyung.”
“Sungie, just being with you makes me feel good,” Minho assures. “And I– I couldn’t do that with you, not while you’re… like this.”
Oh. Right. Okay.
Minho is still talking, saying something about consent and power differentials, but Jisung can’t really hear him. There’s a buzzing in his ears that’s counteracting the floatiness in his head. All he knows is that Minho doesn’t want him, not when he’s like this. But Jisung is just Jisung, all the time. There’s no other this for him to be.
“I’m going home,” Jisung says, fumbling for the doorknob. He still has one shoe untied.
“Jisung, you really shouldn’t go home like this–”
“I’m fine,” Jisung spits out, then he runs out of Minho’s apartment.
☆
If he’s honest, Jisung isn’t quite sure how he gets home. All he knows is that he feels split in two. A horrible sense of emptiness has overtaken him, and as he unlocks the door to his and Felix’s apartment, he feels exhausted.
He plans on immediately crawling into bed and sleeping it off – whatever this is – but Felix is on the couch when he enters the apartment, and when he looks at Jisung, his face immediately becomes filled with concern.
“Jisung? What’s wrong?” Felix asks, standing from the couch. Jisung immediately feels himself crumble, tears pushing at the backs of his eyes. Felix rushes over to him and takes Jisung’s face in his hands, looking over him carefully. “Sung-ah, look at you. You’re all out of sorts. Did you walk home like this?”
Jisung opens his mouth to respond, but instead chokes on a sob. He’s so sad, all of the sudden. Not just because Minho didn’t want him, but it also feels like the rest of the world is bearing down on him. He suddenly remembers that he has to go to fucking work tomorrow and try to put together another stubborn track, and that he has to shower and change into his pajamas, and fuck, eat something, and there’s so many decisions to be made all at once and his brain can’t handle it–
“Come here, come here, angel,” Felix says softly, pulling Jisung towards the couch. Felix drops onto the cushions and drags Jisung down with him, pulling and pulling until Felix is laid out beneath him, Jisung draped over him like a wet rag. Felix immediately gets his hands in Jisung’s hair. “Can I touch you? Is that okay?”
“Please,” Jisung sniffs. He still feels horrible, but it’s starting to subside with each gentle tug of Felix’s small fingers in Jisung’s hair.
“You’re okay, Jisungie, sweet boy. You’re doing good,” Felix praises. “Once you’ve calmed down we’ll have some chocolate and some water, yeah? Does that sound good?”
Jisung hiccups on a cry, but nods anyway. Felix continues to quietly praise Jisung, seemingly for everything and nothing at the same time. He praises Jisung for getting home safely, for picking out a cute outfit, for being a nice heavy weight on top of him. Felix praises and praises until Jisung finally stops crying.
Felix leaves Jisung alone only long enough to grab the promised chocolate and a bottle of water. When he sits back on the couch, he looks deathly serious. “So, good job on getting through your first sub drop, Jisungie.”
Jisung’s brain is still moving a little slowly, so he doesn’t respond. Felix doesn’t seem to mind. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Jisung looks down at the chocolate in his hand, slowly melting against his palm. He knows, logically, that if anyone is going to understand him, that it would be Felix. Jisung knows he could trust Felix with his life, and that Jisung’s sub space is nothing new to him. On the other hand, though, Jisung is mortified. Moreso that he offered or that he got turned down, he doesn’t know. But he doesn’t want to talk about it. He just wants to forget.
Jisung shakes his head and shoves his melted piece of chocolate in his mouth.