Chapter Thirteen

Still no response.

Minho hasn't forgotten about it. He wishes he had. It's been five weeks; an entire month and one week.

"Hyung."

He hates how he still - regularly checks their chat to make sure the discreetly yearned message hasn't slipped through his notification's banner on its own. He hates how he misses Jisung's presence. He hates how bare his days have been feeling without Jisung to brighten them with his stupid knock knock jokes.

"Minho hyung."

He hates how much he likes Jisung.

"Minho-yah."

And he hates the fact that he himself knows that whenever Jisung decides to show up, Minho won't be able to stay mad at him for long.

However, hate is a strong word.

Maybe it's more of a dislike? An ick perhaps? Red flag?

Whatever. It's not like it matters now.

"Minho!" Changbin shouts in the latter's ear.

The boy jumps at the abrupt yell. Minho turns to stare at his colleague with murder written all over his already stern expression. "What?" He grumbles.

"I've been calling your name seven times now."

"And?" Minho snaps back, clearly not in the mood to be disrupted. The senior returns to his coffee shop duties, finishing the effortless latte heart he's started pouring with the foaming milk.

Shrugging, Changbin says, "'don't know. You've just been a bit off recently."

Minho sucks in a deep breath and shoves his teeth down into his lower lip. "Yeah. Maybe I have." He's sure Changbin has noticed by now. And he hates that too.

"Sensitive subject?"

The elder hums.

Changbin nods along with the confirmation, eyebrows knitted together as he ponders. He then nudges Minho's shoulder with his own. "I'm here, y'know."

"I know," Minho says with a softening gaze, although not moving it from the now finished latte he places on the pick-up counter. "I'm just not really in the mood right now, 'Bin."

Nodding once again, Changbin chimes in a comforting tune. "Whenever you're ready, hyung."

A penetrating throb nibbles at Minho's eyes, menacing them with a cosmic spasm of tears. But he manages to swallow them, devouring the extensive emotions along with it. "Thanks."

"'The least I could do." Changbin smiles, bright teeth on display as his eyes squint in the gesture. Minho grins back, letting the beam reach his eyes.

The two colleagues return into their usual pace of afternoon customers, along with their habitual - somewhat domestic - banter.

***

"Do I really have to?"

Chan sighs. "Yes, Jisung, you promised."

"But," Jisung begins. "Hyung, I need to finish other things and and-" he begins to whine with pursed lips.

"No buts." Chan interrupts with a demanding tone. "You promised me you'd do this and that's final."

Without much left to defend, Jisung shoves his shoes onto his socked feet and sighs. "Chan- hyung," he calls. "I really don't feel like doing this right now."

The elder bites at his cheek, trying not to give in to his instincts that're telling him to let Jisung stay at home. "Jisung-ah, I know," he says softly. "But you've been in a lyrical slump more than normal recently, and hibernating in your bed all day long isn't going to help."

Jisung's breath hitches and he suddenly feels desperate. He stands up, half his shoe laces left undone as he bargains. "I just need more time!"

"I've given you plenty of time."

"But I just-!"

Chan snaps his gaze towards Jisung, and the elder's eyes force his mouth to go numb. "Need more time to do what, Jisung?" Chan's body turns to face Jisung's, not much of a distance left between them.

They both know what Jisung's trying to do, but neither says it aloud, so Chan continues. "To mellow in your emotions till you eventually evaporate? Sad to break the news, but that's not how the world works. I care about you, Sung. I'm not going to watch you lose something you fought to achieve."

Again, they both know Chan's not talking about music.

Silence envelops them, and so do their arms around each other.

***

Minho and Changbin near the JYP building, gleefully chit-chatting.

"I swear to god I would've punched him in the face if I got the chance," Minho bitterly mumbles, clenching his fist as he reminisces the memory.

The younger boy huffs out a laugh. "I doubt it."

With a sharp snap of his neck, Minho stares at Changbin with his eyebrows suddenly furrowed and a lethal gaze. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're just like-" Changbin's words halt on his tongue as he catches Minho's eyes, and he swallows firmly. "No offence Hyung, but you're sort of..."

"Sort of? ..." Minho prompts as he watches his dongsaeng with a daunting peer.

"Like a kitten?" Changbin says, tone wavering between uncertainty and fright. "But your looks would never reveal that! You look really cool! But your voice is sort of like ... 'nya'."

Minho simply stares at Changbin, eyes wide at the sudden reenactment of- he doesn't even know what to call it.

All he knows is that he wants to die after hearing it, that's for sure.

But after a rather prolonged awkward pause, he bursts out into laughter and Changbin dares to allow his lips to fall into a cheesy sneer. The laughs follow them all the way into the building, and they find themselves lapsing into a heartening silence.

They take the elevator to the second floor, where they walk through the corridor of studios as they make their way to the recording apartment in hopes of reaching the dance rehearsal rooms.

However, soon enough the soothing noise-tranquillity shatters when Changbin asks: "Hey, have you seen my jacket?" He inquires as he frantically begins searching his body and then his shoulder bag.

"It isn't in your bag?" Minho questions, turning to look at his friend.

"Fucking shit," Changbin mumbles. "I think I left it in Recording studio number three."

"Then go get it?"

But Changbin's shoulders drop and his expression turns tired. "I just went to the gym, can't you go get it for me?"

Minho stands with his back straight, astonished at his muscled friend's laziness. "Are your muscles just like a bunch of balloons or something? Aren't those supposed to be practical?"

"Yah!" Changbin suddenly shouts. "I just used up their energy to get even stronger!"

"Well I'm not the one who forgot it there, which equals = I'm not the one who should go get it."

With another few whines from Changbin, Minho sighs as he mumbles, "useless." And walks towards Recording Studio number three. It's not far, merely a few steps, only boosting further onto the claim of Changbin being useless.

It was all a trick.

His feet freeze in their tracks as he pushes the door open. His face goes pale, a cold shiver flooding through his bones. But the minute he tries to turn around, Changbin pushes him inside and shuts the door.

Fiddling with the bolt, Changbin locks the door.

Minho immediately glances at the puffy-faced boy sitting on the couch, wide-eyed and dumbfounded by the situation, abruptly disturbed from the notepad sitting in his hand.

But he pays him no attention, yet. Instead, Minho pivots 180 degrees and begins banging at the door, tugging at the handle although it's locked.

"CHANGBIN YOU BETTER OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR," Minho shouts, evidently agitated.

Shrugging, although he's hidden behind the door, Changbin says, "Ill let you go once you've both talked about whatever the fuck is going on between you two."

A heavy sigh that can probably be heard from behind the door escapes Minho's lips, but he doesn't care. He throws his own shoulder bag onto the carpeted floor and pushes his back against the door as he slides down, knees close to his chest as he hugs them closer, still not looking at the dumbfounded boy on the sofa.

The air is palpable, thick enough for Jisung to merely grab at. It's undeniably gruesome and only grows more atrocious for each passing second. It's pathetic, really.

But this is what they wanted all along. To talk it out.

Isn't it?

"You don't want to see me that bad?"

"What?" Minho looks up, finally staring at the boy sitting on the couch. There are faint bags under Jisung's eyes, his hair is tousled, pointing in every direction. Being dressed in grey sweatpants and a white tank top isn't helping his case as they only make him look softer. Minho swallows the urge to pepper the boy's face in therapeutic kisses

No matter how bruised Minho's heart has become after these past few weeks, the younger's breathtaking appearances will never cease to tame his mind.

However, on the contrary, they don't help to tame his sudden ill temper, either.

Jisung doesn't speak again, he stays silent as his fingers hug the pen in his hand, squeezing it tightly.

Scoffing, Minho watches the boy as he scrunches his nose. "Now I'm the one who doesn't want to see you? What the actual fuck, Jisung?"

The boy sighs, mumbling out a small, "nevermind," placing the notebook and pen on the sofa, then getting up to sit on the wheeled chair in front of the large DJ mixer.

"No," Minho firmly begins to state, standing up from the floor and walking over to the swivelling chair and turning Jisung around in his seat. "You don't get to just 'Nevermind' this. I haven't been hurting for a month straight just for you to say 'Nevermind'."

"Listen, Minho," Jisung bargains, voice clearly drained of its energy. "I'm-"

"Sorry?" Minho prompts with a raised eyebrow. "If those aren't the first few words I hear coming out of your mouth right now, then I don't want to hear it." Jaw tensing, Minho continues speaking. "I've been trying to contact you every fucking day." He looks down, avoiding eye-contact, shunning away from the prickling pain itching itself at his eyes.

"Minho-"

The elder snaps his head back up, but there's a glossed barrier shielding his darkened pupils. "No. You don't get to have it your way this time," Minho asserts, and with trembling fingers he fists at Jisung collar and suddenly tugs him up from the chair. His eyes prickle with itches, but he doesn't care.

"For five weeks straight you've been dodging me as if I'm some fucking exorcist coming to kill you to hold a satanic ceremony. I'm not a witch who needs to be burned at the stake, I'm Minho, your hyung. Someone you were supposed to be able to trust."

Jisung eyes dart between Minho's, eyebrows creasing and mouth going dry. "Minho it's just that I- ..."

"You what, Jisung?!" He suddenly shouts, a cold bead clumping at his eye, gently rolling over the edge and down his cheek. The start to a rapid waterfall. "I can't read your fucking mind! If I've hurt you or done something, I need you to tell me, you can't just go and hide forever."

"Minho."

"Everyday I try to convince myself that you're just busy with exams and don't have the time to message me. Maybe it's just bad timing, I think. But a coincidence can only happen so many times."

"Minho hyung."

"But still, that 'what if' is what allowed me to stay in a sufficiently decent mood for the entire day. Even though it fucking hurt. And it still does." Minho's head feels dizzy, light and empty of air. But still, he proceeds. "I should've seen the signs. I don't know what I did wrong, but tell me, I want to help, I want to make things right." His cheeks and ears bloom with red as he tightly presses his lips together between words, trying to regain the strength to continue.

"Minho," Jisung sighs for the third time.

"I feel like I'm going mad, Jisung," he mumbles. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," He mumbles softly, wanting to continue on further, but Minho's choked with tears. The lump in his throat thickens as he tries to blink away the tears.

A tender hand with slim fingers comes to cup the side of his face, and Minho subconsciously leans into the touch while his tears bundle at the end of it. The other rolls around the elder's waist, faintly bringing their bodies together.

"Minho," Jisung whispers, again, but softer this time.

The mentioned boy does nothing other than faintly nod.

"I got a 78 on my maths exam."

Right as Minho tries to speak with his eyes lightening with realashing adoration and joy, Jisung presses a gentle kiss to his lips, successfully silencing him.

"I know you're satisfied with those results, baby. But I wasn't. And I'm still not," Jisung mumbles with a meek tone.

"Jisung, listen to me," Minho says, moving his hands to instead rest on Jisung's shoulders, interlocking them behind his head. His face is still puffy and eyes are somewhat swollen from crying. "That's a 550% increase in your results since your last exam where you got a 12 and failed. That's phenomenal and more than I could've ever asked of you."

Jisung sighs. "I know, I know, I should be happy. But hyung, you told me I'd only get to take you out on a date if I got above 90."

Minho merely stares at Jisung, eyes wide and mouth left agape. "Is that why you started avoiding me?"

Nodding, Jisung mumbles, "I was embarrassed. I felt ashamed and didn't dare to face you." Jisung remembers the memory so vividly that it's almost excruciating. It's been torturous ever since the results of his exam was published.

The elder feels a pang of guilt strike him and he suddenly understands everything. The unanswered messages, the hiding, the avoiding, everything.

"I'm sorry, Jisung. I never meant to put so much pressure on you, I just meant it as a little internal joke. But when I look back at it now, I can see how that constant challenge could've easily burdened you, which was never my intention."

"I know." Jisung smiles, creases under his eyes following along. "I did feel that at the time too, but I didn't want to trouble you so early in our friendsh- whatever it is we had."

"And still have."

Jisung chuckles, a gentle bridge of gloss covering his pupils. "Yeah."

Minho presses a gentle kiss to his nose. "Don't ever think you'll trouble me with your emotions. I want to know everything about you, even your deepest, darkest thoughts."

"Promise?" Jisung inquires, big doe eyes staring right at Minho.

"Promise."

Placing a soft peck on Jisung's lips, Minho speaks again. "Let's do something else as the reward next time," Minho says, his hot breath fanning over the younger boy's mouth.

The suggestion that there'll actually be a next time excites Jisung. He's thrilled to see what the future has in store for them. "Like what?" Jisung asks, curling an eyebrow.

"I'll treat you to a good meal after every tutoring session for studying so well," Minho proposes. His wallet can probably take it, worst case scenario, he'll have to cook the food himself. But something tells him that Jisung would probably appreciate that more than eating at a fancy restaurant.

Grinning, Jisung says, "That sounds good."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," Jisung sing-songs. They meet halfway for a soft kiss. It starts with a few pecks as they're just pressing their smiles against each other, but soon enough it turns into a saliva get-together. It's gentle, a familiar dance they've practised before, but this time, they take their rhythm at a slower pace.

"Min," Jisung calls, pulling away. The nickname registers in Minho's brain and it makes his heart flutter. It's the first time Jisung's called him by a nickname.

The elder hums, fondly gazing at the latter. Minho has an exceptional expression he uses around Jisung. It's reserved for Jisung and Jisung only. It's this enamoured, softened gaze where his whole face melts at the mere sight of the boy. His lips quiver into a subtle smile, cherishing the entrancing visuals of the man.

"We have a concert this Saturday," Jisung reveals.

"3Racha?"

"Yeah."

"That's nice," Minho says, threading his fingers through the black hairs by Jisung's nape.

Jisung bites down on his lower lip. "I was wondering if you wanted to come. You can bring Hyunjin, Ryujin, Yeji- the whole group, y'know?"

Groaning, Minho complains. "Do I have to bring them?"

"Be nice, hyung," Jisung chuckles.

"Yeah, yeah." Minho rolls his eyes. "I'll dump them in a river so I can have you all for myself."

A bubbling laugh manages to flee Jisung's lips as the boy slaps Minho's arm. But the older man just watches him with a smile. "Don't be mean."

"Fine," Minho agrees, pressing another kiss to Jisung's nose.

"Good."

The pair find their lips reattaching, drowning in each other, drowning in the way their balms mix together. There's something so intoxicating about sharing their smell, taste and time. There's something so intoxicating about them being paired. Of it being Minho and Jisung. No matter how much Jisung jokes about them being soulmates, there'd always be a second voice in their minds asking for its credibility.

Once they run out of oxygen, Minho suggests they go home and watch a movie, which leads them to cuddling the rest of the evening, waking up to face the next day together.

"Mission accomplished," Chan and Changbin chime in unison.