SBB 2015 ENTRY #20: The Usual Suspects (6/7)
Title: The Usual Suspects
Pairing: Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: R
Warnings: mild to moderate (mis)use of cursing and commas, violence, non graphic mentions of self harm and abuse
Final Word Count: 63,620
Things were different out in the light. The next morning, without the mesmerizing effects of the lights or the woozy influence of alcohol or the feeling of being trapped between the plush leather sofa and Minho’s arms, the only thing Jonghyun felt was scared. Seconds after opening his eyes and realizing he was in bed - alone, thank god - Jonghyun was hit with a wave of blind panic. Oh god, what the fuck had he done last night. He’d kissed Minho. He’d kissed Minho.
Jonghyun had finally given into his heart and he’d actually fucking kissed the other boy and now there was no going back. No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t wake up to heartbreak, because the minute Minho remembered what they did - if he even remembered at all - Jonghyun was fucked.
Minho didn’t like him.
Minho didn’t like him and Jonghyun was not gay. This had been a recipe for disaster and Jonghyun was never drinking again because clearly he fucked up and did stupid things and even people like Choi Minho weren’t exempt from that. Minho didn’t like him because Minho didn’t like boys, so clearly this was the influence of alcohol at work; not to mention, Jonghyun definitely wasn’t gay and so Minho, like Jonghyun, was going to come to the terrible realization that they had made a mistake.
Because Jonghyun couldn’t kiss boys, he couldn’t want to kiss boys. And Minho had never wanted to in the first place. So it was just something in that room last night, the atmosphere and the lights and the way it felt to be sitting next to each other. Minho hadn’t kissed Jonghyun because he’d wanted to, no way.
Jonghyun’s mini panic attack was interrupted by a slow, dull throb in his head. He hadn’t drunk that much last night - yes, you did, his mind convinced him - but his head was turning into a disgusting boiling pot of thick goo, sticking to the inside of his head. It dragged him down, made him feel weak and helpless, like he was a weak elementary school kid cowering in front of his angry dad after a bad report card. No, he didn’t want to think about his dad - he didn’t want to think about anything.
There wasn’t a problem. Jonghyun wasn’t gay and neither was Minho and no one would find out because Jonghyun wasn’t going to tell anyone. Minho probably didn’t remember, anyway. Who would care about remembering something like that, right? And besides, maybe Jonghyun’s addled brain just made it up. He was lacking sleep and he’d be drinking and all of that so maybe…maybe it hadn’t even happened. Jonghyun’s brain perked up weakly at that.
Dragging himself into the shower, Jonghyun decided that he’d just forget that yesterday night had even happened at all. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d see Minho and they’d both act like normal - because it was a normal, regular, not in the least bit out of the ordinary day - and then they’d go hang out with the guys and everything would be cool. They wouldn’t talk about it because there was nothing to talk about.
The reality didn’t flow as smoothly as the scene Jonghyun had painted in his head.
He ran into Minho as he was coming out of the bathroom. Minho’s hair was a mess and his boxers were bunched around his thighs and Jonghyun’s resolve almost crumbled right then and there. But he could do this, he could move past this and he wouldn’t think about the shadows dipping between the muscles on Minho’s chest or his arms or his legs. And he would absolutely, under no circumstances, think about Minho’s lips, puffy from sleep, and how he could kiss them again, already knowing what they felt like.
Yeah. None of that would be happening.
And as always, Minho dashed those expectations without even trying. It was stupid because he didn’t even hardly look at Jonghyun, his eyes squinted and swollen from sleep, but when he brushed past Jonghyun to get in the bathroom he managed to shake him up even worse. Jonghyun stepped out of the way just enough for Minho to get in and he thought he was in the clear until Minho’s hand came up. Jonghyun belatedly thought that Minho hadn’t even realized what he was doing as he sidestepped Jonghyun, his hand coming up across Jonghyun’s hip as he moved around him.
If it was just that, Jonghyun would have been okay. But it wasn’t, and Minho’s hand slid across Jonghyun’s stomach, just above the top of his shorts, as he walked into the bathroom. The door was unceremoniously shut and Jonghyun was left standing stupidly in front of the bathroom, brain thrown into chaos and muscles all tensed up, ready to snap back like a rubber band.
After that he played the riveting game of “let’s avoid all questions about last night”. Minho didn’t seem like he needed to bring it up really, seemed comfortable enough with himself and everything that didn’t happen, but there were still little cues that Jonghyun pretended to miss. The worst of it came that afternoon, when Minho came into his room to let him know something Jinki had said.
“Hyung wants to meet up at his house, today.”
Jonghyun was sitting at his desk, browsing the internet aimlessly and was thoroughly unprepared for Minho bracing his hands on the back of Jonghyun’s chair and leaning over him. The back of Jonghyun’s head bumped against Minho’s chest and then Minho’s face was right next to his, up close and personal and not, like, eighteen feet away like Jonghyun needed it to be.
Jonghyun’s heart was drumming away erratically in his chest as he made a noise of acknowledgement and tried to lean away as subtly as he could.
And instead of moving away like any other functioning, normal human being would, Minho proved his absurd, alien-like nature by continuing to stand right there, right behind Jonghyun. It must have been about three minutes of silent, uncomfortable stillness as Jonghyun distractedly clicked around on his computer. He could feel Minho’s unwavering attention focused on him. Jonghyun was about ten seconds away from breaking out in a nervous sweat when Minho finally moved.
“Hey,” He murmured, warm hand curling against Jonghyun’s shoulder. “I was thinking tonight maybe we -“
“Oh!” Jonghyun wrenched his body around, interrupting Minho and dislodging his hand. “You should ask Taemin to show you that video he was talking about.”
Minho was staring at him strangely and Jonghyun couldn’t blame him. He was fully aware of how much he was avoiding the issue at hand, but he really could not deal with any of it.
“It was really funny,” he added lamely.
“O-okay.” Minho face showed confusion and maybe, just behind that, a little bit of hurt. Jonghyun tamped down on the guilt and turned back to his computer.
He knew what Minho was trying to do - or, at least he thought he knew what Minho was trying to do. He was probably just a little embarrassed and he felt bad that he’d allowed Jonghyun to kiss him and now he was trying to make things less awkward. But honestly, Jonghyun would just rather sweep the whole thing under the rug and forget it had ever happened. If it was never going to happen again, what was the use in dwelling on it?
But Minho was never one to play into Jonghyun’s plans. He leaned in, maybe to tell Jonghyun something, maybe to kiss him, maybe for some other reason that Jonghyun’s malfunctioning brain couldn’t comprehend. Jonghyun acted on instinct, frightened mind taking control as he turned his head away.
“Hey!” He exclaimed, like it had been a coincidence and he totally hadn’t actually noticed what Minho had been trying to do. “Look at this! This corgi is so fat!”
Jonghyun shoved his computer in Minho’s face. For the life of him, Jonghyun couldn’t tell you how his fingers had even cooperated in typing, let alone that he’d managed to think of something other than “how do you know if you’re gay” or “how to get a boy to kiss you”.
Minho left it alone after that.
By the time they left for Jinki’s place, several hours had passed and Minho was cautious around him. He was keeping his distance, no more almost-maybe-kisses, no more touching Jonghyun’s stomach or arms or back, or pushing his way into Jonghyun’s space. Jonghyun knew that this looked strange; the sudden tension, to anyone else, seemed to come out of nowhere and Jonghyun was in no hurry to fix it. He wouldn’t even know how to if he tried - he wasn’t going to address the thing from last night because it shouldn’t have happened and it wouldn’t again. The two of them would just have to get over it eventually.
They met Kibum and Taemin just outside and when Kibum texted Jinki, they headed to a small fitness park just around the block. Jonghyun preferred this park to any of the others because children were less likely to be running around. He liked kids - just not when they all went out together. It wasn’t just a matter of watching their mouths, they had to watch everything they did. And Jonghyun really needed a smoke right about now.
They settled themselves on a low set of parallel bars and then Jonghyun decided he couldn’t wait any longer.
“Jinki,” he said, keeping his head low and close to the other boy’s.
There must have been something in his tone; that, or Jinki had just known him long enough to read his behavior, because he pulled out his pack and tapped one out for Jonghyun. With a pleased sigh, Jonghyun slipped it between his lips, cupped his hands around the flame as Jinki lit him up.
Jinki held a cigarette between his own lips and was about to slip the pack back into his pocket when Taemin spoke up.
“Yo,” he said, making grabby motions with one hand. “Gimme one.”
Taemin leaned over Jonghyun as Jinki held the lighter out for him and soon the air was smoky, a bitter haze filling in the oppressive silence. Kibum rolled his eyes at them, phone practically glued in his hands. (No surprise there.) Minho, on the other hand, was staring at them disapprovingly, his nose scrunched up and his face stony. (No surprise there either.) In an act of vindictive childishness, Jonghyun exhaled his smoke in Minho’s direction.
None of them were really sure how it happened, how exactly the word got out, but it seemed that whenever the five of them went out together that’s when the other gangs started showing up. Off the top of his head, Jonghyun couldn’t think of one time that they’d been approached separately. Well, whatever.
This one was a measly group, just two scrawny looking guys, and Jonghyun’s mind immediately started to wander as he gauged whether it would even be worth it to stand up for this. Jonghyun was about to push off the bars, Taemin raring to go at his side, when one of the guys stepped forward.
The first thing Jonghyun noticed was that first impressions were deceiving and this guy was not nearly as stringy as he looked from farther away.
The second thing he noticed was that he wanted to punch the guy’s face in.
He knew this guy. It was the guy that just a few weeks ago he’d pounded into a pulp for fucking up Minho’s shoulder. Jonghyun didn’t know where the other members were and he really didn’t even give a shit because once he recognized the guy’s slimy mug, his blood was boiling.
The fire turned into ash in two seconds flat.
“Which one of you is Minho?”
Beside Jonghyun, the others turned to look at each other curiously, their faces casually questioning. People didn’t usually have beef with anyone other than Jonghyun - because he was the leader - or Taemin (because he was a cheeky little shit that they couldn’t best).
Minho stood up, his hands in his pockets as he stared down his nose at the guy.
“So you’re his boy, then?” The guy said, nodding his head at Jonghyun. Minho glanced back at him, perplexed, and Jonghyun’s stomach dropped all the way to his knees. “He fucked me up good for you, didn’t he?”
The guy was advancing, shoving at Minho’s chest tauntingly. “He your guard dog? Hmm?”
Jonghyun watched, frozen, as Minho’s eyes widened in confusion with each push. This wasn’t happening. No way this was real. Behind him, Taemin stubbed out his cigarette, eyes straight forward; Jonghyun distantly felt his own fall from his fingers, everything seeming like it was happening in some sort of soupy, slow motion.
“Are you just his fuck buddy or are you really his boy?”
And that’s when things sped back up, crashed in Jonghyun at triple speed. His heart-brain-body stuttered and he shoved past Minho, grit out “what the fuck are you talking about? I’m not fucking gay, you fuckhead.”
He regretted it the second it left his mouth but a rage of guilt and terror was building up inside of him, something burrowing its way into the back of his brain, and it filled him with chills.
Jonghyun wasn’t entirely sure what happened next but his knuckles were bloody by the time Kibum and the other boy were pulling him off the guy. Minho was nowhere to be seen. If anything, that only added to Jonghyun’s delirium, piling up the anxiety high high high until he was sure his eyes were going to roll up into his head and he was going to hit the ground, scramble his brain into a million more pieces than it already was.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Taemin demanded, pulling him away and spinning him around. Jonghyun felt the ground lurch and almost tipped over right there.
“Hey!” Taemin snapped his fingers in front of Jonghyun’s face. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I can’t -“ Jonghyun’s chest felt tight and he collapsed against the metal bar structure.
Minho didn’t like him, Jonghyun was convinced of that. The only reason he’d kissed Jonghyun was because he’d been drunk and now for sure he was fucking pissed at Jonghyun. For some reason, this made all the sense in the world to Jonghyun and it scared the shit out of him.
Jonghyun wished he could take back what he said, but it was one thing to like another guy and it was a whole other thing to be capital “g” Gay and crushing on one of your best and oldest friends. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of hyperventilating, the world swimming before his eyes as Taemin steadied him.
“Guys, I think we need to get him home,” Taemin called, brows furrowed as he kept a firm grip on Jonghyun’s arms.
Jonghyun couldn’t remember much of the rush home. His head was bombarded with accusations, hissed angry phantom words in his ears, and he was scared, so scared.
He came to himself when they pushed him into a chair, faces crowded around him in worry. Jonghyun almost didn’t realize what was going on for a moment, before it all rushed back to him and, oh yeah, there had been other people there too. Hours of apprehension had already passed by in his head and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know how, but what he’d said had hurt Minho, had bothered him enough to disappear and Jonghyun could have punched himself. He hadn’t meant a word of what he’d said, as much as that frightened him.
“Where’s Minho?” was the first thing he asked.
The others passed a look between themselves and Jonghyun felt out of place for one long, wearisome moment.
“He split before you went ape shit,” Kibum said, not one to sugar coat things. “What’s up with you, Jonghyun?”
“I just - need a minute. To myself.” Jonghyun looked around at them almost frantically. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Or never.
“Sure,” Jinki agreed. He patted Jonghyun’s hand comfortingly and Jonghyun had never felt more like a wounded animal than he did in that moment. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, I just - yeah. I’ll be good. Fine. I’ll be fine.”
Kibum aimed another look at Jinki, but the older boy just shook his head. With a few murmured reassurances, they waved and headed out the door, Jinki looking back once more when he thought Jonghyun wasn’t looking. Jonghyun really needed to find Minho.
Taemin caught his attention, a sharp but gentle hand coming down on his shoulder.
“Take care, man,” he told Jonghyun quietly. Jonghyun could only nod at him in response.
He took a moment to collect himself, to push the thoughts away for the time being so that his head would be quiet, cleared. He tried to think; where would Minho have gone? Jonghyun tried calling him first, his call going straight to voicemail and that only intensified his worries. Minho always picked up, even if no one else did.
Then there was a light creak from down the hallway. Jonghyun perked up just the tiniest bit - that had to mean that Minho was there. He gathered himself up, pushing away from the kitchen table with an unpleasant screech. Jonghyun winced; he had never cared about the floor before but now his brain was latching onto things to distract himself from what he was about to do.
He knocked on Minho’s door softly, hand shaking.
“Minho?” Jonghyun’s voice wavered as he called out.
He was met with a soft thump and then a thick silence that pressed down on his chest until all Jonghyun felt was a hollow cave in the middle of his body. He stepped away from the door, feet tripping over each other as he listlessly trudged into the bathroom.
Jonghyun could smell the cigarette smoke emanating from his body in this tiny, enclosed room. His disjointed mind made a creaky connection to Minho being mad and him hating the smell of cigarettes and before Jonghyun knew it, he was standing in the middle of the shower. But he didn’t have the strength to even turn it on, too exhausted to keep standing, and he sank to the tiles, legs pulled up to his chest. He buried his face in his knees and the smell was almost overwhelming enough to distract him.
The smoke was in his clothes, in his hair, and all Jonghyun wanted to do was scrub himself raw until he couldn’t smell it anymore. Maybe then Minho would at least come near him then.
-
In hindsight, the way Jonghyun went about it was probably the worst way he could have picked. It made sense at the time: Minho was avoiding him and Jonghyun wanted to talk. Somehow, in Jonghyun’s mind the situation had warped into the complete opposite of what it really was; Jonghyun wanted to apologize and since Minho was being completely irrational and never showed his face, Jonghyun was totally in the right when he started getting pissed. Boy, was he wrong.
Jonghyun had started hanging around, sticking to wherever Minho was like some sort of disease. He couldn’t even recognize the fact that Minho was slowly getting more and more frustrated with him because - in completely reasonable, rational logic - he was trying to create a situation where he could apologize and they could be friendly again.
By the time they finally reached a catalyst, they were both at their boiling point.
“Minho, come on, please,” Jonghyun whined. He chucked miniscule wads of paper in Minho’s direction petulantly, trying and failing to catch his attention. “At least say something.”
Jonghyun had been particularly roundabout in his excursions to jumpstart a conversation. He couldn’t just come right out and say he was sorry, he needed the right mood going - or, in the very least, he needed Minho to break his silence and just fucking say something to him. Anything, even just one word.
For the way Minho was acting, Jonghyun may not have even existed at all. He tossed his book to the side and walked down the hall, passing Jonghyun like he wasn’t there but still managing to avoid his reaching hand. Jonghyun heard a door slam and then the sound of water rushing.
A rush of breath left Jonghyun, an angry heat rising to his cheeks. Why wouldn’t Minho just talk to him? How the fuck was Jonghyun supposed to apologize to him if Minho wouldn’t even fucking look at him? Jonghyun knocked his heels against the edge of the couch vindictively, taking a rueful satisfaction out of the dull thudding sound it made. His irritability grew steadily with each minute the dull roar of the shower continued.
Unfortunately for both of them, Jonghyun’s short fuse was ready to blow when the water finally switched off.
By the time Minho opened the door, Jonghyun was standing there, arms crossed and face hot as he fumed. Minho stared back at him dispassionately. His hair was wet, dripping onto his bare shoulders, steam wafting past him as he and Jonghyun stared each other down. Jonghyun wanted to punch Minho in his stupid, inexpressive stone face.
Clearly, the stare down became boring to Minho and he pushed past Jonghyun like Jonghyun wasn’t even there, like the space he occupied was so insignificant that Minho didn’t even need to step around him. Their shoulders knocked painfully and Jonghyun’s hand shot out, wrapped around Minho’s arm in a grip that threatened to bruise.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jonghyun growled.
“Let go of me, Jonghyun.” His voice was dull, flat, lifeless. Minho wouldn’t even look back him, the bastard.
“We need to fucking talk!”
“Let go of my arm!” Minho roared, wrenching his arm from Jonghyun’s hold.
For all intents and purposes, Minho looked calm as he made his way into his room, if not for the tense set of his shoulders and the ways his hands curled into tight fists. Jonghyun stalked his way after the other boy, hand slamming against the wood of the door as Minho tried to close it. That got Minho’s attention and he finally looked at Jonghyun again, anger sparking in his eyes.
“What do you want?”
“Just fucking talk to me,” Jonghyun demanded. He wasn’t going to take any more of this ignoring bullshit. They were going to talk and Jonghyun was going to apologize and Minho was going to accept it and they’d get on with their fucking lives, whether they liked it or not.
“About what, Jonghyun?” Minho asked, voice raising a little. “There is nothing to talk about.”
He pushed at the door and Jonghyun’s arm gave a little before he threw his weight into it and the door flew open. Minho stepped back, not giving in, but just ignoring Jonghyun once more. It was like Jonghyun had turned into some sort of mild annoyance. His face burned.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Jonghyun asked, hands balling into fists. “Why is there such a problem with what I said?” As if you didn’t regret it yourself, his own mind hissed at him. What a hypocrite.
“Really?” An angry flush spread across Minho’s cheeks. “You’re really fucking asking me that?”
His hair was starting to curl around his ears and Jonghyun wanted to throw himself under the bus because Minho still looked fucking attractive and that was the whole problem.
“Yeah? Then just tell me what the problem is because apparently I’m too fucking stupid.” Jonghyun pushed his way into Minho’s space, teeth bared. Minho shoved him back, eyes fierce.
"Can we not have this conversation while I'm in a towel?"
Jonghyun took a step back, stunned as he took in the state Minho was in. Even with his staggering attraction, he’d been so angry that he hadn’t hardly even noticed, hadn’t caught the way that Minho’s towel had slowly been unravelling from its tight knot and was inching its way down his hips, hadn’t seen the way the drops of water from Minho’s hair ran in tiny rivers down his chest. For some strange reason, this stoked the fire in him even higher. Jonghyun couldn’t control himself even while Minho kept his cool in nothing but a towel.
Jonghyun’s distraction allowed Minho to strong-arm the other boy towards the door, his fingers tight around Jonghyun’s biceps. Jonghyun felt so small and weak and ridiculous. A firecracker of guilt started to crack inside him.
“Pro tip,” Minho said angrily, pushing the Jonghyun out into the hallway. “If you want to apologize to someone, it’s best not to be a demanding asshole about it.”
The door slammed in Jonghyun’s face, the thundering boom of a fucked up chance.
-
Minho had started running again. He left early in the mornings, sometimes just as Jonghyun was going to sleep, and he slipped out the door without a word. Jonghyun could hear him, when he was still awake, and he held onto the soft padding of Minho’s feet down the hallway, the muted, heavy sound of the door closing like they were lifelines. Lately, they were the only proof that he had that Minho was even real; with the way he acted, it was like he and Jonghyun didn’t even live on the same plane anymore.
He was gone too, when he was scheduled for work. Jonghyun would hear the way Minho stopped for longer at the door to tie his work shoes. He could imagine what Minho looked like, the same as that day in the dressing room, white button down shirt all done up, black work vest hanging off his broad shoulders. Something in Jonghyun ached that he couldn’t be out there straightening out Minho’s uniform before he left for the day.
But sometimes their paths crossed and it was the most awkward fucking thing, to run into Minho in the hall and sidestep him like they were strangers.
Somehow, everything had spiraled out of Jonghyun’s control and it wasn’t even slipping through his fingers anymore, he had just lost it all entirely. His head flittered back to the slow, easy smiles Minho had slipped him, the feel of his strong hands pounding against Jonghyun’s back. A queasy sort of guilt churned in his stomach as he recalled the press of Minho’s lips against his and how Jonghyun had not only fucked that up, but he’d fucked up their years of friendship too.
Jonghyun slept worse when Minho wasn’t talking to him. His racing thoughts kept him up night after night, festering in his head until the sun was rising and he hadn’t moved for hours, hadn’t been able to think about anything but how badly he wanted Minho to even just look at him again. His anxiety levels were shooting through the roof and his hands shook, the bags growing under his eyes day by day.
The others had come over the other day and it had been a grade-A disaster. Jonghyun had considered turning them down, faking sick - as much as he had to fake it, anyway - so that he wouldn’t be shoved into the same room as Minho. It was one thing if Minho ignored him in solitude, it was another entirely if Minho ignored him to his face in a room full of other people.
There was a brief, shining moment of hope where they’d been watching a movie and Minho had turned to him from across the room, a wide smile on his lips passing over the heads of everyone else and straight to Jonghyun. Unbidden, a smile rose to Jonghyun’s own lips and for just a second it was like everything was back to normal. And then what was happening hit him and Jonghyun could just see the moment it registered on Minho’s face as the smile dropped off his face.
Jonghyun felt a sweeping splash of cold run through him. It was a smile that had been meant for him and Minho had taken it back, just like that.
Taemin had taken him aside after that, as Jinki and Kibum proposed a late night food run that Minho had agreed to tag along for. Jonghyun had turned them down, exaggerating a yawn that didn’t need much prompting as he said he’d hit the sack early. He had no doubt in his mind: sleep still wouldn’t come easy because he was strung all high and tense. But still, they bought into the lie almost too easily.
All except for one, that is. Taemin waved a hand at them, said he’d “crash on the couch for the night or something”, and the minute the door had shut he’d rounded on Jonghyun.
“Look,” he said, backing Jonghyun into a corner. “What the hell’s going on with you and Minho?”
And for once in his life, Jonghyun didn’t have an answer for that. He hadn’t been sure where he and Minho stood for a while now and it was only getting murkier as each day passed. Hell, Minho hadn’t even glanced his way as he’d left - Jonghyun had no idea when he’d be back or if he’d even be back at all.
In lieu of an answer, he gave a halfhearted shrug.
“You guys need to get your shit together,” Taemin warned him. He pushed a finger into Jonghyun’s chest, one hand on his hip. “It’s infuriating watching you two chicken shits pussyfoot around each other.”
“Yeah, well, if you can figure out what his deal is, come talk to me,” Jonghyun grumbled. He knew he was in the wrong but with Minho all but turning into a ghost, apologizing proved to be a near impossible task.
“How are you two so incompetent at simple conversation?” Taemin muttered under his breath, exasperated.
Jonghyun took offense to that. “Hey,” he said, drawing himself up. “I’ve already tried to talk to him. It’s not my fault if he won’t fucking listen.”
“Stop being so damn cocksure all the fucking time!” Jonghyun drew back. Taemin hardly ever actually shouted at him. “You don’t even have a clue why he’s upset do you?”
“Well…” Jonghyun floundered.
He didn’t. He didn’t know and it was driving him up the wall. Why should Minho care if Jonghyun “wasn’t” gay? He didn’t like Jonghyun and he hadn’t even been sober when they’d kissed.
“Get your head out of your ass. You’re not the only one in this Jonghyun!”
And despite the fact that Jonghyun had convinced himself of all these things about Minho, it was Taemin’s words that brought to light the fact that, no, he really didn’t know anything. He’d never asked Minho, he’d just assumed what he wanted to and focused on himself. While Jonghyun had been moping in misery on his own…maybe Minho had been too.
Tears had always come too easily to Jonghyun and big fat drops were rolling down his cheeks before he even realized it.
“A-are…are you…crying?” Taemin sounded strained. He tipped his head to get a better look and Jonghyun dropped head to his chest, quiet, shuddering sobs wracking his body.
“You are. Fuck, man, come on.” Taemin grabbed his shoulder and shook it lightly. “Just go talk to him. I mean really talk to him. He’ll come around once you apologize.”
“I don’t - know - how,” Jonghyun managed through his heaving breaths.
“Just get him to listen to you. Don’t yell at him, you know how much he hates that.”
An overwhelming feeling of helplessness crowded Jonghyun. He couldn’t get Minho to listen to him, much less be in the same room alone with him. No matter what Taemin promised, Jonghyun wasn’t sure if he could do this.
“Hey.” Taemin’s voice was gentle, like he was trying not to scare away a baby bird. Jonghyun looked up and was met with a soft look on Taemin’s face. “He doesn’t want to be mad at you, you know.”
Jonghyun wanted to ask how Taemin could possibly know that but he couldn’t get the words to form on his tongue.
“Talk to him.”
He made it sound so simple.
-
Jonghyun couldn’t remember the last time he’d passed Minho’s room and wasn’t met with the disheartening barricade of a closed door. He’d taken what Taemin said to heart but he couldn’t act on it, just turned it around in his head over and over again as he tried to figure out what to do.
How did you talk to someone you couldn’t even see?
And then the thought struck him that maybe he didn’t actually need to say anything - maybe he could just write it instead. (Writing had always been a little more his strong suit anyway.) He grabbed his phone, ready to put things into action, but he still spent another thirty minutes turning it around in his hands, screen still blank. Maybe he would just start small.
Sent 9:25pm
hey minho
Sent 9:25pm
can we talk? i have something to tell you
No answer.
(But then again, Jonghyun hadn’t really been expecting one.)
He could hear the groan of Minho’s mattress springs as Minho shifted around. Well, he was definitely in his room. At least there was that.
Sent 9:32pm
can i come in and talk to you?
Sent 9:33pm
it’s really important
Jonghyun felt anxious, flipped his phone back and forth just to give his hands something to do even though his mind couldn’t focus on what was in front of him. He had no idea if Minho was even checking his phone. Maybe he was, maybe he just saw Jonghyun’s name on the screen and he ignored it, maybe he turned it off and set it aside. Jonghyun had no idea if his words were even reaching him.
Sent 9:46pm
do you want to run away with me?
Sent 9:46pm
(this is a serious suggestion if you want it to be)
Not a minute later, Jonghyun’s door slammed open.
“What the fuck is this?”
Well, he’d finally gotten Minho’s attention.
Minho stood in the doorway, phone raised accusingly in Jonghyun’s direction. Jonghyun watched the screen dim and then turn black, his eyes flicking up to Minho’s messy hair and tumultuous expression. It looked like he hadn’t been able to decide between irate and perplexed, and though his brows were furrowed and his mouth was a tight line, his eyes were wide and open.
Jonghyun had missed his face. He’d missed all of him.
When he realized that Minho actually expected an answer, Jonghyun just tipped his head to the side, half a shrug, half inviting. They kept eye contact for a long moment as Minho seemed to assess him. Jonghyun felt picked apart, exposed, but he guessed it was probably about time for that. The ball was kind of in Minho’s court now.
To his immense surprise, Minho’s expression smoothed out and he walked towards Jonghyun’s bed with deliberate, measured steps. Jonghyun’s breath seemed to be stuck in his throat as Minho sat down right at the very foot of the bed.
Jonghyun stared at the ceiling so that he wouldn’t have to look at Minho. He could feel a prickling heat spreading itself across his jaw, his cheek, his neck, and he was sure Minho was staring at him. He knew that he had to make the first move but now that Minho was sitting right in front of him again, all the words he ever knew seemed to have grown wings and taken flight right out of his head.
In the end, after an agonizingly long minute, it was Minho who spoke first.
“Jonghyun, what are you doing?” he asked softly, a tired sigh slipping past his lips.
“Trying to get you to talk to me…” Jonghyun muttered helplessly.
But Minho shook his head. “No, I don’t mean right here. I mean, what are you doing?”
Jonghyun looked up and was met with the largest, saddest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. It hit him again, seeing it right in front of him, how much he wasn’t the only one hurting here; Jonghyun had been stuck in his own miserable head and while, distantly, he knew that Minho had been affected too, it was different to see it laid out right in front of him. Minho had a hand loosely fisted in the edge of the sheet, like he was trying to anchor himself. Jonghyun was afraid that he was going to float away instead.
“You’ve been all over the place for weeks and I can’t figure you out.” Minho stared him down like they were in a battle. “Why are you doing this?”
There was an unspoken to me, to yourself dangling off the end, the thread holding it together frayed and unravelling.
Jonghyun didn’t have an answer for him. It wasn’t even that he didn’t have a good one; he just didn’t have one at all. Or maybe - he did have one small truth, stashed away in a locked and buried box in the lost corner of his mind. Jonghyun knew what was in it, but he didn’t have the courage, the strength, to tell Minho that. He needed to let Minho in, but that just scared Jonghyun more than anything.
And that was just it. He was scared, plain and simple. He should tell Minho the truth, but how could he when he couldn’t even admit it to himself?
“Jonghyun -“
“I’m sorry.” He glanced at Minho and then away again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Minho didn’t say anything. He was silent, just staring, long enough that Jonghyun started to regret saying anything at all. Minho’s eyes bore into him and Jonghyun picked at the edge of his sheets, apprehensive.
“Okay.”
That…was not the response Jonghyun had expected. Good or bad, he’d at least expected it to be longer and he was unsure what exactly Minho’s answer meant.
“I didn’t mean to say those things.
“But did you mean them?”
“No!” Jonghyun was shaking like a leaf.
Minho seemed hesitant. He drew in a shuddering breath and then pushed on. “Did you mean what you did?”
And how Minho could meet Jonghyun’s eyes when he was just as scared practically knocked Jonghyun over. Minho was terrified too, but here he was, holding firm and pushing to find out the truth even if it meant he had to stand alone.
“Yeah,” Jonghyun managed, voice coming out as barely more than a whisper of air. “I meant that.”
It was the hardest thing he’d ever admitted, to himself, out loud, to another person. It felt like a confession and it set his nerves ablaze once more, bubbles of uncertainty popping and fizzing throughout his veins.
Then, with a buzz and a crack, Jonghyun’s single light called it quits. The room was plunged into darkness and, with it, Jonghyun’s heart.
He was so much more aware of Minho when he couldn’t see him. The bed creaked and Jonghyun held his breath, waiting for the mattress to spring back up as Minho’s weight left it, waiting for light to flood the room for one brief moment, waiting to be left alone in the darkness.
But instead, the bed dipped as Minho shifted and crawled up the bed. Minho’s hand landed on Jonghyun’s calf and he murmured a quiet sorry, adjusted his position as Jonghyun curled in on himself. Jonghyun ducked his head into the pillow as Minho settled down next to him, and he breathed carefully, counting the time in between each inhale, trying to slow his racing heart.
His pulse jumpstarted when Minho’s hand fumbled in the dark and laid over his deliberately.
There seemed to be a ringing in the room as Minho’s thumb rubbed lightly across the back of Jonghyun’s hand. He didn’t know what this meant; did Minho forgive him? What was he trying to tell Jonghyun? His eyes adjusted just enough to make out Minho’s silhouette right in front of him and he tried not to reel back, kept steady and still.
“I don’t want to lose you, Minho. I can’t do that.”
“I can’t do that either, Jonghyun,” Minho sighed. “But I can’t do this if you’re going to keep changing your mind.”
Jonghyun could feel it, that subtle shift in the air as the conversation took on a slightly different meaning. It was electric and Jonghyun’s skin buzzed. He wondered if it was the same for Minho.
Carefully, like a question, he settled his hand in the junction of Minho’s neck.
Minho’s shoulder was a mountain in front of him and Jonghyun’s eyes traced the way the line dipped into his waist, swept up and out and all the way down to his legs. In fact, Minho’s entire existence was like a mountain to him, one that he had recently struggled to climb. How had he let things get this bad?
“I really was serious,” Jonghyun whispered into Minho’s shirt. “about what I said earlier. If you ever wanted to, I’d go with you.”
Minho’s arms tightened around Jonghyun and he laid his chin on top of the other boy’s head.
“I’ll think about it,” he said easily. Minho was teasing him, Jonghyun realized with a start. He could hear the smile in Minho’s voice and he snuggled in against him, seeking for things to be back to the way they were before.
-
Growing, dramatic music filled the room along with the sound of popcorn being crunched. Minho, having accepted Jonghyun’s apology, had suggested that they have a regular day in and just hang out. They picked a movie, made some popcorn, and had been settled on the couch for the last forty minutes. For the most part, they didn’t speak but it was a companionable silence instead of the stilted, forced one from before.
The bowl of popcorn had migrated from between them to Minho’s lap because he had a black hole in the middle of his body instead of a stomach, and Jonghyun had gotten distracted by the movie. He’d lost track of how long he’d been absentmindedly playing with Minho’s free hand (for), bending his fingers and running his fingertips over Minho’s nails. The skin on Minho’s hands was rough, a little dry, but his wrist was smooth as silk. Jonghyun ran his thumb back and forth over the thin skin, only distantly aware of the action, eyes trained on the television.
His attention was called away briefly when his thumb snagged on Minho’s bracelet, catching under the chain. Eyes back on the television once more, Jonghyun switched his focus to the small metal loops. He raised Minho’s hand from his leg and brought it closer to him, rested Minho’s arm in both hands as Jonghyun braced his elbows against the back cushions. Jonghyun turned Minho’s bracelet around and around on his wrist, the pad of his thumb bouncing over the loops as he twirled it.
He vaguely registered that the crunching sounds had stopped, but the movie in front of him was more important, stealing away almost all of his attention.
The room was hot, the fan not doing a whole hell of a lot, and the thought came unbidden to Jonghyun’s mind that maybe Minho’s bracelet would be cool. Though he’d been touching it already, Jonghyun guided Minho’s arm up just a little higher to check, distracted mind deciding that, since his hands were occupied, he’d have to check another way.
The metal was cool as it touched his lips and he opened his mouth slightly, let the links slip in to rest between.
He ran the bracelet over his mouth, the cold of it feeling pleasant as he shifted Minho’s arm closer. But then he could feel Minho’s arm tense, feel Minho’s fingers curl into a fist underneath his hands. Jonghyun froze. The bracelet fell from his lips as he turned his head and met Minho’s wide eyes.
“Jonghyun.” Minho’s voice was low and throaty and a flash of heat went through Jonghyun as he dropped Minho’s hand.
Minho’s hand fell on his leg, fingers so close to the inside of Jonghyun’s thigh. He braced his hand, right there on Jonghyun’s thigh, and leaned forward.
And Jonghyun freaked out. He was frozen just long enough for Minho’s face to come within centimeters of his own, and then his hands were on the firm chest in front of his. He pushed, hard. Minho was thrust back against the couch, shock leaking into his expression. Jonghyun stared back at him, eyes wide with fright. His heart was pounding so fast in his chest that he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest and lay there, beating, on the floor in front of them.
Jonghyun really didn’t want to fight with Minho again but it was like he was watching himself from the outside as he just kept messing up every chance he was handed. He was so scared, the fear in him so deeply ingrained that even though his heart was telling him one thing, even though his body readily agreed, some tiny little nagging part of his mind snuck in and hissed in his ear.
“Minho. I -“
“No, Jonghyun. Not again. We’re not doing this again,” Minho growled. He pushed himself off the couch, face shuttered in anger. Jonghyun watched, helpless, as Minho stalked down the hall and slammed his door shut. Jonghyun sunk to the ground and dropped his head into his hands, feeling sick. He’d fucked up again.
-
There weren’t words to describe the tension in the air over the next few days. It came to a head the day that Jinki, Kibum, and Taemin invited themselves over to laze around before the summer started coming to a close. If Jonghyun had had a way to turn them down without sounding like a complete asshole, he would have done it in a heartbeat. As it turned out, he’d been unable to do anything but weakly agree, no feasible excuses in his arsenal.
It didn’t matter anyway - they’d made their discord obvious enough to the others by sitting as far away from each other as possible. It threw their normal seating arrangement into disarray and the others had shuffled themselves around, shooting silent glances of confusion at each other.
Jonghyun sit back and let everyone else take control of the day; he wasn’t in the mood to be chipper and play into their jokes, couldn’t bring himself to partake in their teasing. He could tell that it wasn’t helping the situation - probably was just making things worse - but he was just so fucking tired of it all. He wished he wasn’t, wished he could join in and be happy but Minho’s stoicism and stony looks fed the heavy weight in Jonghyun’s stomach.
Jinki and Taemin decided on video games and, on the outside, the atmosphere in the room seemed to relax into something casual and friendly. But Jonghyun could feel the crackling tension rolling off of everyone in the room. He tried to stay as long as he could, made ribbing comments on the others’ gameplay, but when he finally just couldn’t take it anymore he got up and left, mumbling a vague comment about the bathroom to anyone that was listening.
Jonghyun went to his room instead and melted against his bed. It was really too damn hot to be in such a closed off area but he needed to be alone. Every once in a while it just became a little too…stifling…to be around the others. Jonghyun needed to get his head on straight and he couldn’t do it with all of the guilt clouding his head in the other room.
A pair of slow, steady footsteps made their way down the hall and stopped in front of his door. Jonghyun shot up like his spine had been electrified. The door was pushed inward and Minho’s face appeared around the edge. When the rest of his body came into view and he was standing in the middle of Jonghyun’s room, Jonghyun’s fight or flight instinct kicked in and his head flew into a panic.
He bolted. Jonghyun was almost out the door when Minho caught his wrist and the force of the stop caused him to careen backwards. The thought oh shit was the only thing to pass through his mind before he hit Minho’s chest hard. They stumbled and then Minho’s arms were coming up to steady Jonghyun, keeping them both on their feet. It felt like a cage.
Jonghyun started struggling and Minho’s arms tightened. He had to get away.
“Jonghyun. Jonghyun!”
The words fell on deaf ears as Jonghyun continued to squirm violently in Minho’s arms.
“Minho, let me go.” Even Jonghyun could hear the irrational panic in his voice but he didn’t care; the only thing that mattered to him was getting away.
“Why do you keep doing this shit?”
“Because I’m fucking scared!”
“Then just fucking talk to me!”
“I can’t!”
“Why not, Jonghyun?” Minho cried. His voice was hoarse and Jonghyun could hear the hurt laced through every word. “How am I supposed to help you if you won’t tell me anything?”
And it was fucking awkward because the others were just out in the other room and Jonghyun was sure that they could hear him, but their voices just kept raising higher and higher and they couldn’t stop it.
Jonghyun felt like he was completely losing it.
His head felt light, dizziness crashing into him as the room swam before his eyes. His arms were weak as he pushed against Minho’s hold and there was a rushing in his ears. It might have been the sound of his blood rushing to his head. He might be about to pass out. Jonghyun didn’t know anything but that he needed to get away.
“Fucking talk to me!”
“Make me!”
Summoning up everything he had, Jonghyun shoved Minho away with a strength he couldn’t understand. Minho tripped backwards and hit the wall with a heavy thud that seemed to rattle the walls. He met Jonghyun’s fearful eyes for just a moment before Jonghyun turned to run out of the room once more.
He hadn’t expected Minho to tackle him to the ground.
“Get off of me!” Jonghyun screamed, rolling to try and dislodge Minho.
Minho was knocked to the side and Jonghyun scrambled to get up, tried to kick away from Minho so that he could get away. But Minho grabbed his ankle and pulled, and Jonghyun’s chin struck the floor, scraped against the carpet as he was dragged back. That was what snapped something in him - Minho wouldn’t let him leave, not unless Jonghyun made him.
He spun around, knocked Minho back against the floor and aimed for his chest. Jonghyun’s fist struck true and Minho wheezed, the wind knocked out of him as Jonghyun threw another punch. Minho’s hips bucked up, disrupting the path of his punch and knocking Jonghyun off. Jonghyun didn’t have time to roll away before Minho was on him.
And for the first time, Jonghyun was met with the fire in Minho’s eyes that he always saw when he was fighting. It reminded him of why he’d always thought Minho was beautiful when he fought. He had never been on the receiving end of this look before and Jonghyun felt a brief zing of excitement zip through him all the way to his toes before Minho’s fist buried itself in Jonghyun’s solar plexus.
Jonghyun coughed and brought up his arms, blocked Minho’s next punch and grit his teeth at the force behind it. He’d known it, but it was different this way, feeling just how angry Minho was. Jonghyun channeled his own frustration into his fists, fighting back seriously with everything he had. He could tell that Minho was doing the same and they both traded off the advantage, gaining and losing the upper hand several times.
Jonghyun had just managed to grab and secure Minho’s wrists when the other boy was pulled off of him. Hands grabbed at his own shirt and the two were dragged away from each other, practically kicking and screaming. Jonghyun had never been this angry at Minho before. They’d had their spats before - it was only natural, knowing each other as long as they had - but Jonghyun couldn’t recall ever feeling this kind of rage build up in him, directed only toward Minho.
“Just fucking talk to me!” Minho screamed at him, fighting against Jinki’s hold.
A dark flush spread across Jonghyun’s face, burning all the way up to his ears. Oh no - they were not having this conversation in front of the others. Jonghyun almost broke free from Taemin’s and Kibum’s arms with his thrashing.
“Just fuck off!” He shouted back, the words ripped out of him like a tornado.
“You can’t keep doing this Jonghyun.” The words were growled at him, rumbled deep in Minho’s throat and it just pissed Jonghyun off even more.
“What the fuck do you care?” Jonghyun hissed, struggling against the hold on him.
“Damn it, don't you get it, you idiot?” Minho surged toward him, face livid as Jinki lost his grip. And then he was right in front of Jonghyun, the fight surging through Minho’s body as he towered over him, looking more stunning than Jonghyun had ever seen. “I love you, you fucking asshole!”
He was breathing heavily as Jonghyun froze, stunned. Taemin and Kibum moved him then, wrestled Jonghyun onto his bed and held him there until Jinki had taken Minho from the room. And then all of it drained out of him, the anger, the energy, the fear, and all that was left was exhaustion.
Jonghyun sagged into the mattress and after a tense moment, Kibum and Taemin released their hold tentatively. They didn’t need to worry - the front door slammed, signaling Minho’s departure.
<< Part Five | Part Seven >>
Pairing: Jonghyun/Minho
Rating: R
Warnings: mild to moderate (mis)use of cursing and commas, violence, non graphic mentions of self harm and abuse
Final Word Count: 63,620
Things were different out in the light. The next morning, without the mesmerizing effects of the lights or the woozy influence of alcohol or the feeling of being trapped between the plush leather sofa and Minho’s arms, the only thing Jonghyun felt was scared. Seconds after opening his eyes and realizing he was in bed - alone, thank god - Jonghyun was hit with a wave of blind panic. Oh god, what the fuck had he done last night. He’d kissed Minho. He’d kissed Minho.
Jonghyun had finally given into his heart and he’d actually fucking kissed the other boy and now there was no going back. No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t wake up to heartbreak, because the minute Minho remembered what they did - if he even remembered at all - Jonghyun was fucked.
Minho didn’t like him.
Minho didn’t like him and Jonghyun was not gay. This had been a recipe for disaster and Jonghyun was never drinking again because clearly he fucked up and did stupid things and even people like Choi Minho weren’t exempt from that. Minho didn’t like him because Minho didn’t like boys, so clearly this was the influence of alcohol at work; not to mention, Jonghyun definitely wasn’t gay and so Minho, like Jonghyun, was going to come to the terrible realization that they had made a mistake.
Because Jonghyun couldn’t kiss boys, he couldn’t want to kiss boys. And Minho had never wanted to in the first place. So it was just something in that room last night, the atmosphere and the lights and the way it felt to be sitting next to each other. Minho hadn’t kissed Jonghyun because he’d wanted to, no way.
Jonghyun’s mini panic attack was interrupted by a slow, dull throb in his head. He hadn’t drunk that much last night - yes, you did, his mind convinced him - but his head was turning into a disgusting boiling pot of thick goo, sticking to the inside of his head. It dragged him down, made him feel weak and helpless, like he was a weak elementary school kid cowering in front of his angry dad after a bad report card. No, he didn’t want to think about his dad - he didn’t want to think about anything.
There wasn’t a problem. Jonghyun wasn’t gay and neither was Minho and no one would find out because Jonghyun wasn’t going to tell anyone. Minho probably didn’t remember, anyway. Who would care about remembering something like that, right? And besides, maybe Jonghyun’s addled brain just made it up. He was lacking sleep and he’d be drinking and all of that so maybe…maybe it hadn’t even happened. Jonghyun’s brain perked up weakly at that.
Dragging himself into the shower, Jonghyun decided that he’d just forget that yesterday night had even happened at all. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d see Minho and they’d both act like normal - because it was a normal, regular, not in the least bit out of the ordinary day - and then they’d go hang out with the guys and everything would be cool. They wouldn’t talk about it because there was nothing to talk about.
The reality didn’t flow as smoothly as the scene Jonghyun had painted in his head.
He ran into Minho as he was coming out of the bathroom. Minho’s hair was a mess and his boxers were bunched around his thighs and Jonghyun’s resolve almost crumbled right then and there. But he could do this, he could move past this and he wouldn’t think about the shadows dipping between the muscles on Minho’s chest or his arms or his legs. And he would absolutely, under no circumstances, think about Minho’s lips, puffy from sleep, and how he could kiss them again, already knowing what they felt like.
Yeah. None of that would be happening.
And as always, Minho dashed those expectations without even trying. It was stupid because he didn’t even hardly look at Jonghyun, his eyes squinted and swollen from sleep, but when he brushed past Jonghyun to get in the bathroom he managed to shake him up even worse. Jonghyun stepped out of the way just enough for Minho to get in and he thought he was in the clear until Minho’s hand came up. Jonghyun belatedly thought that Minho hadn’t even realized what he was doing as he sidestepped Jonghyun, his hand coming up across Jonghyun’s hip as he moved around him.
If it was just that, Jonghyun would have been okay. But it wasn’t, and Minho’s hand slid across Jonghyun’s stomach, just above the top of his shorts, as he walked into the bathroom. The door was unceremoniously shut and Jonghyun was left standing stupidly in front of the bathroom, brain thrown into chaos and muscles all tensed up, ready to snap back like a rubber band.
After that he played the riveting game of “let’s avoid all questions about last night”. Minho didn’t seem like he needed to bring it up really, seemed comfortable enough with himself and everything that didn’t happen, but there were still little cues that Jonghyun pretended to miss. The worst of it came that afternoon, when Minho came into his room to let him know something Jinki had said.
“Hyung wants to meet up at his house, today.”
Jonghyun was sitting at his desk, browsing the internet aimlessly and was thoroughly unprepared for Minho bracing his hands on the back of Jonghyun’s chair and leaning over him. The back of Jonghyun’s head bumped against Minho’s chest and then Minho’s face was right next to his, up close and personal and not, like, eighteen feet away like Jonghyun needed it to be.
Jonghyun’s heart was drumming away erratically in his chest as he made a noise of acknowledgement and tried to lean away as subtly as he could.
And instead of moving away like any other functioning, normal human being would, Minho proved his absurd, alien-like nature by continuing to stand right there, right behind Jonghyun. It must have been about three minutes of silent, uncomfortable stillness as Jonghyun distractedly clicked around on his computer. He could feel Minho’s unwavering attention focused on him. Jonghyun was about ten seconds away from breaking out in a nervous sweat when Minho finally moved.
“Hey,” He murmured, warm hand curling against Jonghyun’s shoulder. “I was thinking tonight maybe we -“
“Oh!” Jonghyun wrenched his body around, interrupting Minho and dislodging his hand. “You should ask Taemin to show you that video he was talking about.”
Minho was staring at him strangely and Jonghyun couldn’t blame him. He was fully aware of how much he was avoiding the issue at hand, but he really could not deal with any of it.
“It was really funny,” he added lamely.
“O-okay.” Minho face showed confusion and maybe, just behind that, a little bit of hurt. Jonghyun tamped down on the guilt and turned back to his computer.
He knew what Minho was trying to do - or, at least he thought he knew what Minho was trying to do. He was probably just a little embarrassed and he felt bad that he’d allowed Jonghyun to kiss him and now he was trying to make things less awkward. But honestly, Jonghyun would just rather sweep the whole thing under the rug and forget it had ever happened. If it was never going to happen again, what was the use in dwelling on it?
But Minho was never one to play into Jonghyun’s plans. He leaned in, maybe to tell Jonghyun something, maybe to kiss him, maybe for some other reason that Jonghyun’s malfunctioning brain couldn’t comprehend. Jonghyun acted on instinct, frightened mind taking control as he turned his head away.
“Hey!” He exclaimed, like it had been a coincidence and he totally hadn’t actually noticed what Minho had been trying to do. “Look at this! This corgi is so fat!”
Jonghyun shoved his computer in Minho’s face. For the life of him, Jonghyun couldn’t tell you how his fingers had even cooperated in typing, let alone that he’d managed to think of something other than “how do you know if you’re gay” or “how to get a boy to kiss you”.
Minho left it alone after that.
By the time they left for Jinki’s place, several hours had passed and Minho was cautious around him. He was keeping his distance, no more almost-maybe-kisses, no more touching Jonghyun’s stomach or arms or back, or pushing his way into Jonghyun’s space. Jonghyun knew that this looked strange; the sudden tension, to anyone else, seemed to come out of nowhere and Jonghyun was in no hurry to fix it. He wouldn’t even know how to if he tried - he wasn’t going to address the thing from last night because it shouldn’t have happened and it wouldn’t again. The two of them would just have to get over it eventually.
They met Kibum and Taemin just outside and when Kibum texted Jinki, they headed to a small fitness park just around the block. Jonghyun preferred this park to any of the others because children were less likely to be running around. He liked kids - just not when they all went out together. It wasn’t just a matter of watching their mouths, they had to watch everything they did. And Jonghyun really needed a smoke right about now.
They settled themselves on a low set of parallel bars and then Jonghyun decided he couldn’t wait any longer.
“Jinki,” he said, keeping his head low and close to the other boy’s.
There must have been something in his tone; that, or Jinki had just known him long enough to read his behavior, because he pulled out his pack and tapped one out for Jonghyun. With a pleased sigh, Jonghyun slipped it between his lips, cupped his hands around the flame as Jinki lit him up.
Jinki held a cigarette between his own lips and was about to slip the pack back into his pocket when Taemin spoke up.
“Yo,” he said, making grabby motions with one hand. “Gimme one.”
Taemin leaned over Jonghyun as Jinki held the lighter out for him and soon the air was smoky, a bitter haze filling in the oppressive silence. Kibum rolled his eyes at them, phone practically glued in his hands. (No surprise there.) Minho, on the other hand, was staring at them disapprovingly, his nose scrunched up and his face stony. (No surprise there either.) In an act of vindictive childishness, Jonghyun exhaled his smoke in Minho’s direction.
None of them were really sure how it happened, how exactly the word got out, but it seemed that whenever the five of them went out together that’s when the other gangs started showing up. Off the top of his head, Jonghyun couldn’t think of one time that they’d been approached separately. Well, whatever.
This one was a measly group, just two scrawny looking guys, and Jonghyun’s mind immediately started to wander as he gauged whether it would even be worth it to stand up for this. Jonghyun was about to push off the bars, Taemin raring to go at his side, when one of the guys stepped forward.
The first thing Jonghyun noticed was that first impressions were deceiving and this guy was not nearly as stringy as he looked from farther away.
The second thing he noticed was that he wanted to punch the guy’s face in.
He knew this guy. It was the guy that just a few weeks ago he’d pounded into a pulp for fucking up Minho’s shoulder. Jonghyun didn’t know where the other members were and he really didn’t even give a shit because once he recognized the guy’s slimy mug, his blood was boiling.
The fire turned into ash in two seconds flat.
“Which one of you is Minho?”
Beside Jonghyun, the others turned to look at each other curiously, their faces casually questioning. People didn’t usually have beef with anyone other than Jonghyun - because he was the leader - or Taemin (because he was a cheeky little shit that they couldn’t best).
Minho stood up, his hands in his pockets as he stared down his nose at the guy.
“So you’re his boy, then?” The guy said, nodding his head at Jonghyun. Minho glanced back at him, perplexed, and Jonghyun’s stomach dropped all the way to his knees. “He fucked me up good for you, didn’t he?”
The guy was advancing, shoving at Minho’s chest tauntingly. “He your guard dog? Hmm?”
Jonghyun watched, frozen, as Minho’s eyes widened in confusion with each push. This wasn’t happening. No way this was real. Behind him, Taemin stubbed out his cigarette, eyes straight forward; Jonghyun distantly felt his own fall from his fingers, everything seeming like it was happening in some sort of soupy, slow motion.
“Are you just his fuck buddy or are you really his boy?”
And that’s when things sped back up, crashed in Jonghyun at triple speed. His heart-brain-body stuttered and he shoved past Minho, grit out “what the fuck are you talking about? I’m not fucking gay, you fuckhead.”
He regretted it the second it left his mouth but a rage of guilt and terror was building up inside of him, something burrowing its way into the back of his brain, and it filled him with chills.
Jonghyun wasn’t entirely sure what happened next but his knuckles were bloody by the time Kibum and the other boy were pulling him off the guy. Minho was nowhere to be seen. If anything, that only added to Jonghyun’s delirium, piling up the anxiety high high high until he was sure his eyes were going to roll up into his head and he was going to hit the ground, scramble his brain into a million more pieces than it already was.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Taemin demanded, pulling him away and spinning him around. Jonghyun felt the ground lurch and almost tipped over right there.
“Hey!” Taemin snapped his fingers in front of Jonghyun’s face. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I can’t -“ Jonghyun’s chest felt tight and he collapsed against the metal bar structure.
Minho didn’t like him, Jonghyun was convinced of that. The only reason he’d kissed Jonghyun was because he’d been drunk and now for sure he was fucking pissed at Jonghyun. For some reason, this made all the sense in the world to Jonghyun and it scared the shit out of him.
Jonghyun wished he could take back what he said, but it was one thing to like another guy and it was a whole other thing to be capital “g” Gay and crushing on one of your best and oldest friends. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of hyperventilating, the world swimming before his eyes as Taemin steadied him.
“Guys, I think we need to get him home,” Taemin called, brows furrowed as he kept a firm grip on Jonghyun’s arms.
Jonghyun couldn’t remember much of the rush home. His head was bombarded with accusations, hissed angry phantom words in his ears, and he was scared, so scared.
He came to himself when they pushed him into a chair, faces crowded around him in worry. Jonghyun almost didn’t realize what was going on for a moment, before it all rushed back to him and, oh yeah, there had been other people there too. Hours of apprehension had already passed by in his head and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know how, but what he’d said had hurt Minho, had bothered him enough to disappear and Jonghyun could have punched himself. He hadn’t meant a word of what he’d said, as much as that frightened him.
“Where’s Minho?” was the first thing he asked.
The others passed a look between themselves and Jonghyun felt out of place for one long, wearisome moment.
“He split before you went ape shit,” Kibum said, not one to sugar coat things. “What’s up with you, Jonghyun?”
“I just - need a minute. To myself.” Jonghyun looked around at them almost frantically. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Or never.
“Sure,” Jinki agreed. He patted Jonghyun’s hand comfortingly and Jonghyun had never felt more like a wounded animal than he did in that moment. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, I just - yeah. I’ll be good. Fine. I’ll be fine.”
Kibum aimed another look at Jinki, but the older boy just shook his head. With a few murmured reassurances, they waved and headed out the door, Jinki looking back once more when he thought Jonghyun wasn’t looking. Jonghyun really needed to find Minho.
Taemin caught his attention, a sharp but gentle hand coming down on his shoulder.
“Take care, man,” he told Jonghyun quietly. Jonghyun could only nod at him in response.
He took a moment to collect himself, to push the thoughts away for the time being so that his head would be quiet, cleared. He tried to think; where would Minho have gone? Jonghyun tried calling him first, his call going straight to voicemail and that only intensified his worries. Minho always picked up, even if no one else did.
Then there was a light creak from down the hallway. Jonghyun perked up just the tiniest bit - that had to mean that Minho was there. He gathered himself up, pushing away from the kitchen table with an unpleasant screech. Jonghyun winced; he had never cared about the floor before but now his brain was latching onto things to distract himself from what he was about to do.
He knocked on Minho’s door softly, hand shaking.
“Minho?” Jonghyun’s voice wavered as he called out.
He was met with a soft thump and then a thick silence that pressed down on his chest until all Jonghyun felt was a hollow cave in the middle of his body. He stepped away from the door, feet tripping over each other as he listlessly trudged into the bathroom.
Jonghyun could smell the cigarette smoke emanating from his body in this tiny, enclosed room. His disjointed mind made a creaky connection to Minho being mad and him hating the smell of cigarettes and before Jonghyun knew it, he was standing in the middle of the shower. But he didn’t have the strength to even turn it on, too exhausted to keep standing, and he sank to the tiles, legs pulled up to his chest. He buried his face in his knees and the smell was almost overwhelming enough to distract him.
The smoke was in his clothes, in his hair, and all Jonghyun wanted to do was scrub himself raw until he couldn’t smell it anymore. Maybe then Minho would at least come near him then.
-
In hindsight, the way Jonghyun went about it was probably the worst way he could have picked. It made sense at the time: Minho was avoiding him and Jonghyun wanted to talk. Somehow, in Jonghyun’s mind the situation had warped into the complete opposite of what it really was; Jonghyun wanted to apologize and since Minho was being completely irrational and never showed his face, Jonghyun was totally in the right when he started getting pissed. Boy, was he wrong.
Jonghyun had started hanging around, sticking to wherever Minho was like some sort of disease. He couldn’t even recognize the fact that Minho was slowly getting more and more frustrated with him because - in completely reasonable, rational logic - he was trying to create a situation where he could apologize and they could be friendly again.
By the time they finally reached a catalyst, they were both at their boiling point.
“Minho, come on, please,” Jonghyun whined. He chucked miniscule wads of paper in Minho’s direction petulantly, trying and failing to catch his attention. “At least say something.”
Jonghyun had been particularly roundabout in his excursions to jumpstart a conversation. He couldn’t just come right out and say he was sorry, he needed the right mood going - or, in the very least, he needed Minho to break his silence and just fucking say something to him. Anything, even just one word.
For the way Minho was acting, Jonghyun may not have even existed at all. He tossed his book to the side and walked down the hall, passing Jonghyun like he wasn’t there but still managing to avoid his reaching hand. Jonghyun heard a door slam and then the sound of water rushing.
A rush of breath left Jonghyun, an angry heat rising to his cheeks. Why wouldn’t Minho just talk to him? How the fuck was Jonghyun supposed to apologize to him if Minho wouldn’t even fucking look at him? Jonghyun knocked his heels against the edge of the couch vindictively, taking a rueful satisfaction out of the dull thudding sound it made. His irritability grew steadily with each minute the dull roar of the shower continued.
Unfortunately for both of them, Jonghyun’s short fuse was ready to blow when the water finally switched off.
By the time Minho opened the door, Jonghyun was standing there, arms crossed and face hot as he fumed. Minho stared back at him dispassionately. His hair was wet, dripping onto his bare shoulders, steam wafting past him as he and Jonghyun stared each other down. Jonghyun wanted to punch Minho in his stupid, inexpressive stone face.
Clearly, the stare down became boring to Minho and he pushed past Jonghyun like Jonghyun wasn’t even there, like the space he occupied was so insignificant that Minho didn’t even need to step around him. Their shoulders knocked painfully and Jonghyun’s hand shot out, wrapped around Minho’s arm in a grip that threatened to bruise.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jonghyun growled.
“Let go of me, Jonghyun.” His voice was dull, flat, lifeless. Minho wouldn’t even look back him, the bastard.
“We need to fucking talk!”
“Let go of my arm!” Minho roared, wrenching his arm from Jonghyun’s hold.
For all intents and purposes, Minho looked calm as he made his way into his room, if not for the tense set of his shoulders and the ways his hands curled into tight fists. Jonghyun stalked his way after the other boy, hand slamming against the wood of the door as Minho tried to close it. That got Minho’s attention and he finally looked at Jonghyun again, anger sparking in his eyes.
“What do you want?”
“Just fucking talk to me,” Jonghyun demanded. He wasn’t going to take any more of this ignoring bullshit. They were going to talk and Jonghyun was going to apologize and Minho was going to accept it and they’d get on with their fucking lives, whether they liked it or not.
“About what, Jonghyun?” Minho asked, voice raising a little. “There is nothing to talk about.”
He pushed at the door and Jonghyun’s arm gave a little before he threw his weight into it and the door flew open. Minho stepped back, not giving in, but just ignoring Jonghyun once more. It was like Jonghyun had turned into some sort of mild annoyance. His face burned.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Jonghyun asked, hands balling into fists. “Why is there such a problem with what I said?” As if you didn’t regret it yourself, his own mind hissed at him. What a hypocrite.
“Really?” An angry flush spread across Minho’s cheeks. “You’re really fucking asking me that?”
His hair was starting to curl around his ears and Jonghyun wanted to throw himself under the bus because Minho still looked fucking attractive and that was the whole problem.
“Yeah? Then just tell me what the problem is because apparently I’m too fucking stupid.” Jonghyun pushed his way into Minho’s space, teeth bared. Minho shoved him back, eyes fierce.
"Can we not have this conversation while I'm in a towel?"
Jonghyun took a step back, stunned as he took in the state Minho was in. Even with his staggering attraction, he’d been so angry that he hadn’t hardly even noticed, hadn’t caught the way that Minho’s towel had slowly been unravelling from its tight knot and was inching its way down his hips, hadn’t seen the way the drops of water from Minho’s hair ran in tiny rivers down his chest. For some strange reason, this stoked the fire in him even higher. Jonghyun couldn’t control himself even while Minho kept his cool in nothing but a towel.
Jonghyun’s distraction allowed Minho to strong-arm the other boy towards the door, his fingers tight around Jonghyun’s biceps. Jonghyun felt so small and weak and ridiculous. A firecracker of guilt started to crack inside him.
“Pro tip,” Minho said angrily, pushing the Jonghyun out into the hallway. “If you want to apologize to someone, it’s best not to be a demanding asshole about it.”
The door slammed in Jonghyun’s face, the thundering boom of a fucked up chance.
-
Minho had started running again. He left early in the mornings, sometimes just as Jonghyun was going to sleep, and he slipped out the door without a word. Jonghyun could hear him, when he was still awake, and he held onto the soft padding of Minho’s feet down the hallway, the muted, heavy sound of the door closing like they were lifelines. Lately, they were the only proof that he had that Minho was even real; with the way he acted, it was like he and Jonghyun didn’t even live on the same plane anymore.
He was gone too, when he was scheduled for work. Jonghyun would hear the way Minho stopped for longer at the door to tie his work shoes. He could imagine what Minho looked like, the same as that day in the dressing room, white button down shirt all done up, black work vest hanging off his broad shoulders. Something in Jonghyun ached that he couldn’t be out there straightening out Minho’s uniform before he left for the day.
But sometimes their paths crossed and it was the most awkward fucking thing, to run into Minho in the hall and sidestep him like they were strangers.
Somehow, everything had spiraled out of Jonghyun’s control and it wasn’t even slipping through his fingers anymore, he had just lost it all entirely. His head flittered back to the slow, easy smiles Minho had slipped him, the feel of his strong hands pounding against Jonghyun’s back. A queasy sort of guilt churned in his stomach as he recalled the press of Minho’s lips against his and how Jonghyun had not only fucked that up, but he’d fucked up their years of friendship too.
Jonghyun slept worse when Minho wasn’t talking to him. His racing thoughts kept him up night after night, festering in his head until the sun was rising and he hadn’t moved for hours, hadn’t been able to think about anything but how badly he wanted Minho to even just look at him again. His anxiety levels were shooting through the roof and his hands shook, the bags growing under his eyes day by day.
The others had come over the other day and it had been a grade-A disaster. Jonghyun had considered turning them down, faking sick - as much as he had to fake it, anyway - so that he wouldn’t be shoved into the same room as Minho. It was one thing if Minho ignored him in solitude, it was another entirely if Minho ignored him to his face in a room full of other people.
There was a brief, shining moment of hope where they’d been watching a movie and Minho had turned to him from across the room, a wide smile on his lips passing over the heads of everyone else and straight to Jonghyun. Unbidden, a smile rose to Jonghyun’s own lips and for just a second it was like everything was back to normal. And then what was happening hit him and Jonghyun could just see the moment it registered on Minho’s face as the smile dropped off his face.
Jonghyun felt a sweeping splash of cold run through him. It was a smile that had been meant for him and Minho had taken it back, just like that.
Taemin had taken him aside after that, as Jinki and Kibum proposed a late night food run that Minho had agreed to tag along for. Jonghyun had turned them down, exaggerating a yawn that didn’t need much prompting as he said he’d hit the sack early. He had no doubt in his mind: sleep still wouldn’t come easy because he was strung all high and tense. But still, they bought into the lie almost too easily.
All except for one, that is. Taemin waved a hand at them, said he’d “crash on the couch for the night or something”, and the minute the door had shut he’d rounded on Jonghyun.
“Look,” he said, backing Jonghyun into a corner. “What the hell’s going on with you and Minho?”
And for once in his life, Jonghyun didn’t have an answer for that. He hadn’t been sure where he and Minho stood for a while now and it was only getting murkier as each day passed. Hell, Minho hadn’t even glanced his way as he’d left - Jonghyun had no idea when he’d be back or if he’d even be back at all.
In lieu of an answer, he gave a halfhearted shrug.
“You guys need to get your shit together,” Taemin warned him. He pushed a finger into Jonghyun’s chest, one hand on his hip. “It’s infuriating watching you two chicken shits pussyfoot around each other.”
“Yeah, well, if you can figure out what his deal is, come talk to me,” Jonghyun grumbled. He knew he was in the wrong but with Minho all but turning into a ghost, apologizing proved to be a near impossible task.
“How are you two so incompetent at simple conversation?” Taemin muttered under his breath, exasperated.
Jonghyun took offense to that. “Hey,” he said, drawing himself up. “I’ve already tried to talk to him. It’s not my fault if he won’t fucking listen.”
“Stop being so damn cocksure all the fucking time!” Jonghyun drew back. Taemin hardly ever actually shouted at him. “You don’t even have a clue why he’s upset do you?”
“Well…” Jonghyun floundered.
He didn’t. He didn’t know and it was driving him up the wall. Why should Minho care if Jonghyun “wasn’t” gay? He didn’t like Jonghyun and he hadn’t even been sober when they’d kissed.
“Get your head out of your ass. You’re not the only one in this Jonghyun!”
And despite the fact that Jonghyun had convinced himself of all these things about Minho, it was Taemin’s words that brought to light the fact that, no, he really didn’t know anything. He’d never asked Minho, he’d just assumed what he wanted to and focused on himself. While Jonghyun had been moping in misery on his own…maybe Minho had been too.
Tears had always come too easily to Jonghyun and big fat drops were rolling down his cheeks before he even realized it.
“A-are…are you…crying?” Taemin sounded strained. He tipped his head to get a better look and Jonghyun dropped head to his chest, quiet, shuddering sobs wracking his body.
“You are. Fuck, man, come on.” Taemin grabbed his shoulder and shook it lightly. “Just go talk to him. I mean really talk to him. He’ll come around once you apologize.”
“I don’t - know - how,” Jonghyun managed through his heaving breaths.
“Just get him to listen to you. Don’t yell at him, you know how much he hates that.”
An overwhelming feeling of helplessness crowded Jonghyun. He couldn’t get Minho to listen to him, much less be in the same room alone with him. No matter what Taemin promised, Jonghyun wasn’t sure if he could do this.
“Hey.” Taemin’s voice was gentle, like he was trying not to scare away a baby bird. Jonghyun looked up and was met with a soft look on Taemin’s face. “He doesn’t want to be mad at you, you know.”
Jonghyun wanted to ask how Taemin could possibly know that but he couldn’t get the words to form on his tongue.
“Talk to him.”
He made it sound so simple.
-
Jonghyun couldn’t remember the last time he’d passed Minho’s room and wasn’t met with the disheartening barricade of a closed door. He’d taken what Taemin said to heart but he couldn’t act on it, just turned it around in his head over and over again as he tried to figure out what to do.
How did you talk to someone you couldn’t even see?
And then the thought struck him that maybe he didn’t actually need to say anything - maybe he could just write it instead. (Writing had always been a little more his strong suit anyway.) He grabbed his phone, ready to put things into action, but he still spent another thirty minutes turning it around in his hands, screen still blank. Maybe he would just start small.
Sent 9:25pm
hey minho
Sent 9:25pm
can we talk? i have something to tell you
No answer.
(But then again, Jonghyun hadn’t really been expecting one.)
He could hear the groan of Minho’s mattress springs as Minho shifted around. Well, he was definitely in his room. At least there was that.
Sent 9:32pm
can i come in and talk to you?
Sent 9:33pm
it’s really important
Jonghyun felt anxious, flipped his phone back and forth just to give his hands something to do even though his mind couldn’t focus on what was in front of him. He had no idea if Minho was even checking his phone. Maybe he was, maybe he just saw Jonghyun’s name on the screen and he ignored it, maybe he turned it off and set it aside. Jonghyun had no idea if his words were even reaching him.
Sent 9:46pm
do you want to run away with me?
Sent 9:46pm
(this is a serious suggestion if you want it to be)
Not a minute later, Jonghyun’s door slammed open.
“What the fuck is this?”
Well, he’d finally gotten Minho’s attention.
Minho stood in the doorway, phone raised accusingly in Jonghyun’s direction. Jonghyun watched the screen dim and then turn black, his eyes flicking up to Minho’s messy hair and tumultuous expression. It looked like he hadn’t been able to decide between irate and perplexed, and though his brows were furrowed and his mouth was a tight line, his eyes were wide and open.
Jonghyun had missed his face. He’d missed all of him.
When he realized that Minho actually expected an answer, Jonghyun just tipped his head to the side, half a shrug, half inviting. They kept eye contact for a long moment as Minho seemed to assess him. Jonghyun felt picked apart, exposed, but he guessed it was probably about time for that. The ball was kind of in Minho’s court now.
To his immense surprise, Minho’s expression smoothed out and he walked towards Jonghyun’s bed with deliberate, measured steps. Jonghyun’s breath seemed to be stuck in his throat as Minho sat down right at the very foot of the bed.
Jonghyun stared at the ceiling so that he wouldn’t have to look at Minho. He could feel a prickling heat spreading itself across his jaw, his cheek, his neck, and he was sure Minho was staring at him. He knew that he had to make the first move but now that Minho was sitting right in front of him again, all the words he ever knew seemed to have grown wings and taken flight right out of his head.
In the end, after an agonizingly long minute, it was Minho who spoke first.
“Jonghyun, what are you doing?” he asked softly, a tired sigh slipping past his lips.
“Trying to get you to talk to me…” Jonghyun muttered helplessly.
But Minho shook his head. “No, I don’t mean right here. I mean, what are you doing?”
Jonghyun looked up and was met with the largest, saddest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. It hit him again, seeing it right in front of him, how much he wasn’t the only one hurting here; Jonghyun had been stuck in his own miserable head and while, distantly, he knew that Minho had been affected too, it was different to see it laid out right in front of him. Minho had a hand loosely fisted in the edge of the sheet, like he was trying to anchor himself. Jonghyun was afraid that he was going to float away instead.
“You’ve been all over the place for weeks and I can’t figure you out.” Minho stared him down like they were in a battle. “Why are you doing this?”
There was an unspoken to me, to yourself dangling off the end, the thread holding it together frayed and unravelling.
Jonghyun didn’t have an answer for him. It wasn’t even that he didn’t have a good one; he just didn’t have one at all. Or maybe - he did have one small truth, stashed away in a locked and buried box in the lost corner of his mind. Jonghyun knew what was in it, but he didn’t have the courage, the strength, to tell Minho that. He needed to let Minho in, but that just scared Jonghyun more than anything.
And that was just it. He was scared, plain and simple. He should tell Minho the truth, but how could he when he couldn’t even admit it to himself?
“Jonghyun -“
“I’m sorry.” He glanced at Minho and then away again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Minho didn’t say anything. He was silent, just staring, long enough that Jonghyun started to regret saying anything at all. Minho’s eyes bore into him and Jonghyun picked at the edge of his sheets, apprehensive.
“Okay.”
That…was not the response Jonghyun had expected. Good or bad, he’d at least expected it to be longer and he was unsure what exactly Minho’s answer meant.
“I didn’t mean to say those things.
“But did you mean them?”
“No!” Jonghyun was shaking like a leaf.
Minho seemed hesitant. He drew in a shuddering breath and then pushed on. “Did you mean what you did?”
And how Minho could meet Jonghyun’s eyes when he was just as scared practically knocked Jonghyun over. Minho was terrified too, but here he was, holding firm and pushing to find out the truth even if it meant he had to stand alone.
“Yeah,” Jonghyun managed, voice coming out as barely more than a whisper of air. “I meant that.”
It was the hardest thing he’d ever admitted, to himself, out loud, to another person. It felt like a confession and it set his nerves ablaze once more, bubbles of uncertainty popping and fizzing throughout his veins.
Then, with a buzz and a crack, Jonghyun’s single light called it quits. The room was plunged into darkness and, with it, Jonghyun’s heart.
He was so much more aware of Minho when he couldn’t see him. The bed creaked and Jonghyun held his breath, waiting for the mattress to spring back up as Minho’s weight left it, waiting for light to flood the room for one brief moment, waiting to be left alone in the darkness.
But instead, the bed dipped as Minho shifted and crawled up the bed. Minho’s hand landed on Jonghyun’s calf and he murmured a quiet sorry, adjusted his position as Jonghyun curled in on himself. Jonghyun ducked his head into the pillow as Minho settled down next to him, and he breathed carefully, counting the time in between each inhale, trying to slow his racing heart.
His pulse jumpstarted when Minho’s hand fumbled in the dark and laid over his deliberately.
There seemed to be a ringing in the room as Minho’s thumb rubbed lightly across the back of Jonghyun’s hand. He didn’t know what this meant; did Minho forgive him? What was he trying to tell Jonghyun? His eyes adjusted just enough to make out Minho’s silhouette right in front of him and he tried not to reel back, kept steady and still.
“I don’t want to lose you, Minho. I can’t do that.”
“I can’t do that either, Jonghyun,” Minho sighed. “But I can’t do this if you’re going to keep changing your mind.”
Jonghyun could feel it, that subtle shift in the air as the conversation took on a slightly different meaning. It was electric and Jonghyun’s skin buzzed. He wondered if it was the same for Minho.
Carefully, like a question, he settled his hand in the junction of Minho’s neck.
Minho’s shoulder was a mountain in front of him and Jonghyun’s eyes traced the way the line dipped into his waist, swept up and out and all the way down to his legs. In fact, Minho’s entire existence was like a mountain to him, one that he had recently struggled to climb. How had he let things get this bad?
“I really was serious,” Jonghyun whispered into Minho’s shirt. “about what I said earlier. If you ever wanted to, I’d go with you.”
Minho’s arms tightened around Jonghyun and he laid his chin on top of the other boy’s head.
“I’ll think about it,” he said easily. Minho was teasing him, Jonghyun realized with a start. He could hear the smile in Minho’s voice and he snuggled in against him, seeking for things to be back to the way they were before.
-
Growing, dramatic music filled the room along with the sound of popcorn being crunched. Minho, having accepted Jonghyun’s apology, had suggested that they have a regular day in and just hang out. They picked a movie, made some popcorn, and had been settled on the couch for the last forty minutes. For the most part, they didn’t speak but it was a companionable silence instead of the stilted, forced one from before.
The bowl of popcorn had migrated from between them to Minho’s lap because he had a black hole in the middle of his body instead of a stomach, and Jonghyun had gotten distracted by the movie. He’d lost track of how long he’d been absentmindedly playing with Minho’s free hand (for), bending his fingers and running his fingertips over Minho’s nails. The skin on Minho’s hands was rough, a little dry, but his wrist was smooth as silk. Jonghyun ran his thumb back and forth over the thin skin, only distantly aware of the action, eyes trained on the television.
His attention was called away briefly when his thumb snagged on Minho’s bracelet, catching under the chain. Eyes back on the television once more, Jonghyun switched his focus to the small metal loops. He raised Minho’s hand from his leg and brought it closer to him, rested Minho’s arm in both hands as Jonghyun braced his elbows against the back cushions. Jonghyun turned Minho’s bracelet around and around on his wrist, the pad of his thumb bouncing over the loops as he twirled it.
He vaguely registered that the crunching sounds had stopped, but the movie in front of him was more important, stealing away almost all of his attention.
The room was hot, the fan not doing a whole hell of a lot, and the thought came unbidden to Jonghyun’s mind that maybe Minho’s bracelet would be cool. Though he’d been touching it already, Jonghyun guided Minho’s arm up just a little higher to check, distracted mind deciding that, since his hands were occupied, he’d have to check another way.
The metal was cool as it touched his lips and he opened his mouth slightly, let the links slip in to rest between.
He ran the bracelet over his mouth, the cold of it feeling pleasant as he shifted Minho’s arm closer. But then he could feel Minho’s arm tense, feel Minho’s fingers curl into a fist underneath his hands. Jonghyun froze. The bracelet fell from his lips as he turned his head and met Minho’s wide eyes.
“Jonghyun.” Minho’s voice was low and throaty and a flash of heat went through Jonghyun as he dropped Minho’s hand.
Minho’s hand fell on his leg, fingers so close to the inside of Jonghyun’s thigh. He braced his hand, right there on Jonghyun’s thigh, and leaned forward.
And Jonghyun freaked out. He was frozen just long enough for Minho’s face to come within centimeters of his own, and then his hands were on the firm chest in front of his. He pushed, hard. Minho was thrust back against the couch, shock leaking into his expression. Jonghyun stared back at him, eyes wide with fright. His heart was pounding so fast in his chest that he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest and lay there, beating, on the floor in front of them.
Jonghyun really didn’t want to fight with Minho again but it was like he was watching himself from the outside as he just kept messing up every chance he was handed. He was so scared, the fear in him so deeply ingrained that even though his heart was telling him one thing, even though his body readily agreed, some tiny little nagging part of his mind snuck in and hissed in his ear.
“Minho. I -“
“No, Jonghyun. Not again. We’re not doing this again,” Minho growled. He pushed himself off the couch, face shuttered in anger. Jonghyun watched, helpless, as Minho stalked down the hall and slammed his door shut. Jonghyun sunk to the ground and dropped his head into his hands, feeling sick. He’d fucked up again.
-
There weren’t words to describe the tension in the air over the next few days. It came to a head the day that Jinki, Kibum, and Taemin invited themselves over to laze around before the summer started coming to a close. If Jonghyun had had a way to turn them down without sounding like a complete asshole, he would have done it in a heartbeat. As it turned out, he’d been unable to do anything but weakly agree, no feasible excuses in his arsenal.
It didn’t matter anyway - they’d made their discord obvious enough to the others by sitting as far away from each other as possible. It threw their normal seating arrangement into disarray and the others had shuffled themselves around, shooting silent glances of confusion at each other.
Jonghyun sit back and let everyone else take control of the day; he wasn’t in the mood to be chipper and play into their jokes, couldn’t bring himself to partake in their teasing. He could tell that it wasn’t helping the situation - probably was just making things worse - but he was just so fucking tired of it all. He wished he wasn’t, wished he could join in and be happy but Minho’s stoicism and stony looks fed the heavy weight in Jonghyun’s stomach.
Jinki and Taemin decided on video games and, on the outside, the atmosphere in the room seemed to relax into something casual and friendly. But Jonghyun could feel the crackling tension rolling off of everyone in the room. He tried to stay as long as he could, made ribbing comments on the others’ gameplay, but when he finally just couldn’t take it anymore he got up and left, mumbling a vague comment about the bathroom to anyone that was listening.
Jonghyun went to his room instead and melted against his bed. It was really too damn hot to be in such a closed off area but he needed to be alone. Every once in a while it just became a little too…stifling…to be around the others. Jonghyun needed to get his head on straight and he couldn’t do it with all of the guilt clouding his head in the other room.
A pair of slow, steady footsteps made their way down the hall and stopped in front of his door. Jonghyun shot up like his spine had been electrified. The door was pushed inward and Minho’s face appeared around the edge. When the rest of his body came into view and he was standing in the middle of Jonghyun’s room, Jonghyun’s fight or flight instinct kicked in and his head flew into a panic.
He bolted. Jonghyun was almost out the door when Minho caught his wrist and the force of the stop caused him to careen backwards. The thought oh shit was the only thing to pass through his mind before he hit Minho’s chest hard. They stumbled and then Minho’s arms were coming up to steady Jonghyun, keeping them both on their feet. It felt like a cage.
Jonghyun started struggling and Minho’s arms tightened. He had to get away.
“Jonghyun. Jonghyun!”
The words fell on deaf ears as Jonghyun continued to squirm violently in Minho’s arms.
“Minho, let me go.” Even Jonghyun could hear the irrational panic in his voice but he didn’t care; the only thing that mattered to him was getting away.
“Why do you keep doing this shit?”
“Because I’m fucking scared!”
“Then just fucking talk to me!”
“I can’t!”
“Why not, Jonghyun?” Minho cried. His voice was hoarse and Jonghyun could hear the hurt laced through every word. “How am I supposed to help you if you won’t tell me anything?”
And it was fucking awkward because the others were just out in the other room and Jonghyun was sure that they could hear him, but their voices just kept raising higher and higher and they couldn’t stop it.
Jonghyun felt like he was completely losing it.
His head felt light, dizziness crashing into him as the room swam before his eyes. His arms were weak as he pushed against Minho’s hold and there was a rushing in his ears. It might have been the sound of his blood rushing to his head. He might be about to pass out. Jonghyun didn’t know anything but that he needed to get away.
“Fucking talk to me!”
“Make me!”
Summoning up everything he had, Jonghyun shoved Minho away with a strength he couldn’t understand. Minho tripped backwards and hit the wall with a heavy thud that seemed to rattle the walls. He met Jonghyun’s fearful eyes for just a moment before Jonghyun turned to run out of the room once more.
He hadn’t expected Minho to tackle him to the ground.
“Get off of me!” Jonghyun screamed, rolling to try and dislodge Minho.
Minho was knocked to the side and Jonghyun scrambled to get up, tried to kick away from Minho so that he could get away. But Minho grabbed his ankle and pulled, and Jonghyun’s chin struck the floor, scraped against the carpet as he was dragged back. That was what snapped something in him - Minho wouldn’t let him leave, not unless Jonghyun made him.
He spun around, knocked Minho back against the floor and aimed for his chest. Jonghyun’s fist struck true and Minho wheezed, the wind knocked out of him as Jonghyun threw another punch. Minho’s hips bucked up, disrupting the path of his punch and knocking Jonghyun off. Jonghyun didn’t have time to roll away before Minho was on him.
And for the first time, Jonghyun was met with the fire in Minho’s eyes that he always saw when he was fighting. It reminded him of why he’d always thought Minho was beautiful when he fought. He had never been on the receiving end of this look before and Jonghyun felt a brief zing of excitement zip through him all the way to his toes before Minho’s fist buried itself in Jonghyun’s solar plexus.
Jonghyun coughed and brought up his arms, blocked Minho’s next punch and grit his teeth at the force behind it. He’d known it, but it was different this way, feeling just how angry Minho was. Jonghyun channeled his own frustration into his fists, fighting back seriously with everything he had. He could tell that Minho was doing the same and they both traded off the advantage, gaining and losing the upper hand several times.
Jonghyun had just managed to grab and secure Minho’s wrists when the other boy was pulled off of him. Hands grabbed at his own shirt and the two were dragged away from each other, practically kicking and screaming. Jonghyun had never been this angry at Minho before. They’d had their spats before - it was only natural, knowing each other as long as they had - but Jonghyun couldn’t recall ever feeling this kind of rage build up in him, directed only toward Minho.
“Just fucking talk to me!” Minho screamed at him, fighting against Jinki’s hold.
A dark flush spread across Jonghyun’s face, burning all the way up to his ears. Oh no - they were not having this conversation in front of the others. Jonghyun almost broke free from Taemin’s and Kibum’s arms with his thrashing.
“Just fuck off!” He shouted back, the words ripped out of him like a tornado.
“You can’t keep doing this Jonghyun.” The words were growled at him, rumbled deep in Minho’s throat and it just pissed Jonghyun off even more.
“What the fuck do you care?” Jonghyun hissed, struggling against the hold on him.
“Damn it, don't you get it, you idiot?” Minho surged toward him, face livid as Jinki lost his grip. And then he was right in front of Jonghyun, the fight surging through Minho’s body as he towered over him, looking more stunning than Jonghyun had ever seen. “I love you, you fucking asshole!”
He was breathing heavily as Jonghyun froze, stunned. Taemin and Kibum moved him then, wrestled Jonghyun onto his bed and held him there until Jinki had taken Minho from the room. And then all of it drained out of him, the anger, the energy, the fear, and all that was left was exhaustion.
Jonghyun sagged into the mattress and after a tense moment, Kibum and Taemin released their hold tentatively. They didn’t need to worry - the front door slammed, signaling Minho’s departure.
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