Archive of Our Own

‡‡

“He registered a washlet from TOTO?” Minho can’t help but laugh as he reviews the items that Jisung chose to add to their wedding gift registry. 

Considering that they’ve been living together in their own house for almost two years already—and that isn’t even acknowledging the fact that they’ve lived together as roommates, even before they became an official couple—they don’t really need a lot of the typical house appliances and furnitures a newlywed couple would expect to receive from friends and family. It also figures that Jisung would ask for an electronic bidet considering he’s been raving about it ever since their holiday trip to Japan almost a year ago; Minho finds it funny anyway.

“Your boyfriend is ridiculous,” Seungmin comments, barely looking up from his phone. The two of them are having lunch near Seungmin’s workplace so that the latter can update him on how wedding planning is proceeding so far.

“Fiancé,” Minho automatically corrects; even now, four months after their engagement, calling Jisung that still gives him ticklish flutters in his stomach. He can’t believe he’s that type of person now – the kind who cares about the difference between referring to his partner as fiancé vs. boyfriend. “What’s so ridiculous about a washlet?” he snorts. “It’s very convenient. And now you and Changbin have an excuse to get it for us!”

Seungmin scoffs, finally locking his phone and putting it away so that he can be more present. “It’s expensive,” he points out.

“Nothing your combined salary with Changbin can’t handle!” Minho points out with a grin. He’s teasing, of course—he doesn’t expect anything from his best friends, especially considering how much they’re already helping plan the ceremony, but he also knows they would get him and Jisung something useful while extravagant for their wedding. Seungmin is the type to make sure of it.

Overall, he has been a really big help in planning Minho and Jisung’s wedding—no doubt that what Seungmin is busy with on his phone  is either a client from work, or him finalising orders related to the wedding. He had even taken time away from work that morning to help Jisung register gifts for them, and considering some of the bizarre items on the list that Minho is looking at (the washlet is actually on the more practical side, what with Jisung registering for things like a two feet tall ceramic model of a fish man and a year’s supply of gourmet popcorn), he’s sure Seungmin’s patience had worn very thin. 

Their lunch orders soon arrive, and Seungmin updates him on how the planning for his wedding is going. The two of them have oftentimes had a pretty contentious friendship, especially since Minho has always been Changbin’s best friend and Seungmin’s relationship with Changbin has had its fair share of ups and down, but when it comes down to it, they consider each other good friends, and Minho is truly thankful for his help. He knows that he and Jisung are lucky to have someone so organized like Seungmin in their lives; if it was up to just the two of them, they’d probably end up with a sloppy ceremony, with music playing from someone’s iPad while guests are fed with endless appetizers, and no entrees. He would feel apologetic, since Seungmin has to squeeze in all the planning between his busy lawyer schedule, but he also knows Seungmin enjoys planning these things. Nevertheless he makes a mental note to express genuine gratitude to Seungmin when the wedding is over.

“So. You’re getting married in a little over two weeks,” Seungmin states the obvious with a sly grin as he finishes his salmon. “Have you written your vows yet?”

Minho momentarily freezes; thinking about his vows is something that he has pushed to the furthest recesses of his mind. It isn’t that he has a hard time coming up with reasons as to why he wants to spend the rest of his life with Jisung—he's in abundance of those, quite frankly. The problem is that he has no idea how to put words together, how to even begin to express these reasons.

There are just too many of them, and every time he attempts to organize his thoughts on the matter, he feels quite overwhelmed.

“Nah,” he answers, his tone deadpan on purpose. “I’m just going to wing it when the day comes.” Seungmin looks horrified enough that Minho has to laugh and play it off as a joke. “Don’t worry,” he assures his friend. “All I have to say is I Do!”

The first time that Minho met Jisung was when he was 21, and Jisung, 19. He had been hanging out with Changbin on a Friday night, which more accurately was really just him bothering his friend in Changbin’s solo dorm room, while the latter tried to cram a final paper that he was already late in turning in. It was in the middle of that incredibly slow and boring evening when one of the freshmen on Changbin's (who was a resident adviser) floor had called. Suddenly Changbin was ushering him out of his room and asking if Minho wouldn't mind driving off campus so he could pick up some drunk freshmen.

“Of course I mind,” Minho had answered, mostly teasing because he grabbed his keys and his jacket anyway. He barely said a word as Changbin voiced out directions to where they were headed to.

“We could have been the ones getting wasted,” he commented after Changbin ordered him to pull up by the sidewalk. Across the street was a guy who, at the time, Minho only vaguely recognized (a guy who he knows quite well now, as it was Seungmin) helping Changbin's childhood friend, Hyunjin stand upright. On the sidewalk were two more of their friends, practically sprawled on the ground next to each other. Minho couldn't help but laugh.

“You mean you could just as easily be the one about to be picked off the ground,” Changbin retorted as he pushed the passenger door open. “And yet you chose not to,” he added, and it was true, because it wasn't as if Minho had any schoolwork he needed to do at the last minute. He just didn't want to go partying without his friend — not that he would readily admit as much to Changbin, at least not back then.

House parties were all the same anyway, if you've been to one, you've been to all of them.

He followed Changbin as he crossed the street, curiosity getting the better of him and prompting him to inspect the two drunk freshmen on the ground while Changbin approached Seungmin and Hyunjin to help them.

This is the state Jisung was in when Minho first saw him: eyes glossed over, and with a silly smile that spread across his face after Minho curiously poked one of his soft, round cheeks with his finger. He had grinned, and then, very randomly, he had snapped his teeth at Minho – it was surprising, but it made Minho laugh.

“I'll take care of this one,” he announced, chuckling to himself as he tried to help the boy up. Jisung had whined, but he was also quick to lean against Minho once he was up on his feet. He was so close, to the point that his warm, alcohol scented breath was fanning against Minho's neck.

“Fucking prince,” he had whispered—at least Minho thinks that is what was said. Ten years later, he still couldn't be sure thanks to the way Jisung slurred his words — then again, ten years later it hardly mattered. He was greatly endeared anyway, and he had needed to bite his tongue so he could hold back his own giggling.

The real clincher, however, had been the day after. 

Minho had woken up early for a jog, far too energized compared to the rest of the campus who had spent the night before celebrating the end of term by getting smashed — much like the freshmen from the night before, he had thought. Sweet, summer children.

Still, he had found himself gravitating towards his favorite coffee cart near the Humanities building, and that was where he had seen Jisung again; this time his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and an obvious hangover, while his dirty blonde hair was sticking out in a very comical manner.

Cute, had still been the first thought in Minho’s head, and maybe that should have been the first indication of just how bad he was going to have it for the younger male. 

“Hey, what's up?” Hyunjin's voice crackles through the phone line when he picks up Minho's call, and he has to wince.

“You're breaking up,” Minho answers.

“Oh, wait a sec,” Hyunjin pauses, and Minho hears a bit of shuffling on the other end before Hyunjin speaks again. “How about now?”

“Better.”

“So—why'd you call?”

It's Minho's turn to pause; he knows why he's calling, but his ears grow warm at the thought of having to explain himself out loud.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, “Just checking if you're still flying in, the Thursday before the wedding?”

“Yeah, nothing's changed, don't worry.” Hyunjin laughs. “Nakko and I booked tickets two months ago, we'll be at your wedding for sure, Minho.”

“Okay.” Minho nods, even though it's a voice call and Hyunjin can't see him across the line.

“Is that all?” Hyunjin prods; they have known each other long enough that Minho is sure that Hyunjin is aware there's more to the call than such a mundane question.

Minho chuckles softly; he called Hyunjin for this, so he might as well just ask, right? “No, uh—”

“Minho?”

He laughs; the fact that he's making such a big deal out of this is just adding onto the embarrassment so he takes a deep breath and decides to just spit his question out. “How did you write your wedding vows?”

“Ah.” Hyunjin chortles. “Is that it, Minho? Are you having trouble with your vows?”

Minho remains quiet; he exhales softly, in disbelief at how he has resorted to asking Hyunjin for his advice on this — it shouldn't even be shameful. Hyunjin is the only married one in their friend group, the only one who has written his own vows; who else is Minho supposed to ask if not him?

Minho was there for Hyunjin's wedding, of course. It was a pretty nice ceremony; far more grand than the intimate beach wedding that Minho and Jisung have planned. Still, the way Hyunjin had expressed himself—had expressed his love, and his desire to be with his bride for the rest of his life had touched something within Minho. Maybe it was something in the way that Hyunjin had been very earnest with his vows, despite the words being incredibly sappy.

He's a little envious, frankly. He tells himself that Jisung knows how he feels; that even if he wings it, like he had told Seungmin he would, Jisung wouldn't care.

And yet here he is, caring way too much.

“Minho,” Hyunjin begins, his tone staid, more concerned than teasing. “Personally, I watched a wedding vow compilation on YouTube—” he snorts, as if he knows his own action to be ridiculous; Minho has to mentally agree. “I also looked up romantic poems, and then I tried cherry picking good lines to add to my speech—” his laughter grows. “I ended up with a really stupid speech that Seungmin scolded me for. At the end of the day, I just quoted a couple of lines from Nakko's favorite poem, and expressed my real feelings. That's all you need to do, Minho. Just express how you really feel.”

It sounds so simple, and Minho is sure that it is that simple.

“Sounds like a joke,” he says anyway, laughing as he tries to make light of the conversation; he doesn't want anyone to know just how anxious he's starting to feel about his wedding vows.

Just express how you feel.

The problem is that Jisung is the one who has always been good with words; Minho is a man of deeds—of actions. He shows he cares through acts of service, but he knows that Jisung is going to hit him hard with poetic words, and for once— just once , he wants to be able to turn the tables back on his fiancé.

“I know you.” Jisung, voice hoarse and tired, had greeted Minho like this when the two of them ran across each other at the coffee cart, that first morning after so many years ago. “How do I know you?”

He looked so pained in his attempt to make his brain work, but Minho found it amusing and adorable. He paused and stared, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent his own smile from forming, and he waited to see if Jisung's memory would be jogged. Two beats, three beats, five beats passed and Jisung just continued to glower at him.

“Last night,” he prompted; maybe a simple hint would help Jisung remember.

The puffy faced boy's eyes widened, and Minho laughed. There you go, he had thought, assuming that Jisung finally remembered.

"Shit!” Jisung winced, his face turning into a deep shade of crimson. “Did I—did we—? Did I make a fool of myself in front of you?” He stepped closer and lowered his voice into a whisper before he continued, “Did we, um—did we make out or something?”

The incredulity and genuine confusion in his tone only served to make Minho laugh harder. “Yes to the first one,” he answered, his tone steady but with a hint of amusement, “you wish, to the second one.”

"Hey!” Jisung frowned. “I—” he stopped and once again took a step back; his eyes roamed across Minho from head to toe, clearly appraising him. “You're not that out of my league.”

Minho had kept laughing. The comment was strangely confident yet self-deprecating at once. “I'm Changbin's friend,” he finally explained. “I was with him when your friend—Seungmin? When he called to be picked up.”

“Oh.” Realization finally dawned on Jisung's features. “ Oh.”

“Yeah.” Minho couldn't help but let out a snort. “ Oh. Next time maybe pace yourself on the drinking, yeah?” he chuckled; that was highly hypocritical of him, considering how hard he partied during his first year in university, but Jisung didn't need to know that. “I'm Minho, by the way.”

“Errr. Uh.” Jisung smiled sheepishly. “Ji—”

“Jisung Han,” Minho finished for him. “Changbin mentioned last night.” He failed to clarify that Changbin only mentioned after he had specifically asked for his name.

“Oh, uh. Sorry you had to see me like... well. How I was,” Jisung apologised.

“Don't be,” Minho said with a chuckle. “My Friday night was boring until you and your friends provided ample entertainment.”

Jisung frowned, his face turning redder, and Minho just laughed, yet again. And then he moved to step around Jisung so he could order coffee from the guy manning the car. “One americano,” he said, before handing over a few bills. “And I'll pay for whatever he had,” he added, jerking a thumb towards Jisung.

“Wait—!” Jisung attempted to protest, but Minho simply shot him a look over his shoulder and Jisung proceeded to shrink away.

“Here,” Minho handed him his drink after; both of them had ordered the same Iced Americano, less ice, with Jisung asking for an extra shot of espresso on his.

“Thanks,” Jisung mumbled, straw in between his teeth as he sipped on his drink.

“One would think you'd still be in bed in your room right now,” Minho commented when the two of them fell into step together; technically, he hadn't finished his jogging route. “So why are you up so early?”

Jisung's face contorted into a very displeased expression. “My IntroPol prof is a fossil living in the previous century,” he grumbled. “He refuses to let his students submit final papers through e-mail, and since he was already out last night when I finished my paper, I had to get it in this morning or accept a fucking zero.”

Minho nodded. “Professor Chang?”

Jisung turned to him. “Yeah! How'd you know?”

“Had him last year,” Minho explained, laughing. He had the guy for History of Governance instead of Introduction to Politics, but he had to suffer through the same outdated teaching techniques. “Does he still just literally spit out fact after fact during class?”

Jisung made an even more disgusted expression, and Minho had to hold back from cooing and reaching over to pinch his cheek; the boy's face was amazingly expressive and dynamic. “ Literally, yes!” Jisung practically yelled. “So glad I never liked sitting in the front—he's always raining spit on the nerds sitting up there.”

“Raining sp—” Minho couldn't even repeat the entire phrase without laughing harder. “I used to sit at the front—first two weeks of class, and then I very gladly relocated to the back because of that exact reason.”

Jisung's grin was smug and cocky; a normal person would probably have found it annoying, and yet to Minho, it was attractive— charming. That morning had gone by quickly, because Minho only really remembers looking at his watch and realising it was time for lunch. He and Jisung spent the entire morning chatting about ridiculous professors, with Minho sharing which electives were worth taking. Conversation was easy, and the banter was comfortable despite the two of them having first met not even twenty-four hours earlier. 

“He missed you,” Chris comments with casual amusement.

Minho makes a face, but he doesn't really pry Felix off of him until the latter readily disengages. “Missed you too, Lix,” he deadpans. To be fair, while they saw Chris last year when he traveled to California for work, the last time they had seen Felix was over two years ago when Hyunjin got married.

“Next time you guys come to Sydney instead, when Chris gets married,” Felix comments, as if reading Minho's thoughts. His words have Minho and Chris exchanging looks, though.

“Didn't realise Chris even had someone in this life he's considering marrying?” Minho asks, eyebrow lifted.

“That's because Chris,” the oldest among them points at himself, “doesn't.”

“Pfft!” Felix scoffs and slings an arm around Chris' wide shoulders. “There'll be someone soon enough. You're too perfect to remain single for too long.”

Minho notices the tips of Chris' ears turn pink; he makes a mental note to mention that Jisung later — his boyfriend has always had suspicions about those two, but Minho goes back and forth considering they've all known each other a decade, and if something was going to develop, then it should have already happened by now. (Every time he points this out, Jisung just laughs in his face. “It took us six years,” he always points out, and touché, because he makes a point that Minho can't really argue with.)

“Anyway!” Chris clears his throat, and Minho starts leading them out to the airport parking lot. “We're here for Minho and Jisung's wedding—can't believe you two are actually gonna make it official, man! Never would have thought!”

Minho throws him a narrowed gaze. “Is that your way of saying you didn't think we would last?”

“Mate—” Chris laughs. “More like my way of saying I was beginning to think you would never actually get together! By the time I left for Australia, you still hadn't gotten your shit right. If you asked me back then, I would have put all my chips on Seungmin and Changbin being married by now.”

“Oh, I'm sure they're not far behind,” Minho comments.

“Oooh—” Felix's eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Do you know something we don't?”

Minho shrugs. “Not really, but they're stronger than ever. They moved in together last month, and they seem pretty happy. You should see their house—” he laughs, “—and you will, because that's where we're having dinner tonight!”

“Seungmin's cooking?” Chris asks, brow furrowed.

“And if I say Changbin—?”

Chris's expression morphs into a horrified one, which has Minho bursting into laughter; as someone who lived with Changbin for a good number of years in their early 20s, he knows better than anyone how Changbin can barely even tell a wok apart from a frying pan. A disgrace to his Asian roots, and Minho never lets him forget it.

“Don't worry,” he assures his two Australian friends. “Changbin can toss a mean salad now—but Jisung and I ordered dishes from our favorite restaurant. We'll pick them up on the way.”

They finally reach his car, and he opens the hatchback so they can squeeze Chris and Felix's luggage into it.

“Shotgun!” Felix announces, bright and energetic, and it makes Minho smile; whenever they all get together he feels like he's 20 again, at the cusp of his youth, and looking forward to a bright future. It's a pretty good feeling, and quite appropriate considering he's about to get married – the future couldn't be any brighter than that.

“You know,” Chris begins, not complaining as he climbs into the backseat of Minho's car. “There's something that Jisung used to always say about you—and maybe that should have clued me in on betting for the two of you, instead of against.”

Minho gets into the driver's seat and pulls his door shut; he looks at Chris through the rearview mirror, one eyebrow lifted. “This is hurting my heart, Chris,” he deadpans; it isn't really, and the way both Felix and Chris laugh in response is proof enough that his friends know him pretty well. “But I'll bite,” he continues as he turns the ignition. “What did he used to say?”

“He used to say that it's never boring with you,” Chris answers.

“Ah!” Felix nods eagerly, chuckling. “He used to tell me the same thing. One time, I asked him why he liked you so much—” from the periphery of his vision, Minho notices him wrinkling his nose, a habit that Felix has when recalling less than fond memories.

“Why do I have a feeling that this isn't a good thing?”

Felix laughs. “Because it wasn't a discussion that was had at a good time,” he explains; Minho isn't surprised because Felix and Jisung were roommates for years, and if there was anyone witness to Jisung's side of the early ups and downs of their history, it would be him. “All things considered though, it's a part of the past that doesn't really matter anymore—but we had this conversation after— well. Remember that time he caught you with—God, Minho, I can't even remember who you were with that time!”

“I think it was Yeonjun,” Chris interjects, which has Minho squinting at him through the mirror again.

“How do you know?”

“Gossip travels fast,” Chris shrugs; Minho scoffs.

“Yeah.” Felix chuckles. “It was around then—and Jisung was so—he wasn't even angry. He was just frustrated. And I told him that he should try and just move on—” he pauses, biting his cheek and glancing at Minho as if nervous about this admission. Not that he should be, because even though he's glad that Jisung ultimately didn't move on from his feelings for him, Minho doesn't really blame Felix for giving such advice. “Anyway, Jisung said that even if he was hurt, that didn't mean he didn't want you in his life anymore—he said he was always going to want you in his life, because—well, because he never feels bored with you.” Felix laughs, and adds jokingly, “My boy sure has his priorities straight!”

Chris hums. “It just so happens that some of these never boring, exciting moments included a bit of heartbreak,” he muses.

It prickles at Minho's heart; he wants to snap because he would like to think that he's been nothing but a good boyfriend to Jisung over these last three years that they've been together. Sure they still have arguments here and there, but they've been very open with each other in ways that they weren't when they were younger.

“We're past that now,” he points out, trying to sound unaffected, but the shakiness of his tone isn't lost even on him.

Chris smiles. “Everyone can tell,” he points out, proud and encouraging. “Which is why we're bold enough to joke about your past shortcomings now,” he teases, breaking into laughter as he leans forward to clap Minho on the shoulder. “Congrats, Minho, you're about to get married.”

“With the love of your life!” Felix screeches, a little too loud that it makes Minho wince.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, pretending to be annoyed, but the smile tugging at his lips easily betrays him to his friends.

It was during his junior year that Minho moved into an off-campus apartment with Changbin – and because there was space, and they were all broke university students, with Changbin came Seungmin and Hyunjin. 

Jisung stayed at the school dorms, but with his friends doubling as Minho’s roommates, it wasn’t long before their friend groups seamlessly blended together. Jisung, along with his roommate Felix, were regulars on their couch; Seungmin sometimes complained about them cleaning out their pantry but overall they were always welcome guests.

Minho and Jisung only got closer with this new setup, the two of them frequently watching movies in the living room, or sometimes in Minho’s room if any of his other roommates beat them to the couch.

If Minho is going to be frank, he would admit that the attraction had been strong even then—but this wasn’t something he was ready to be upfront about in his early 20’s. The closer he and Jisung got, the more he kept the attraction at bay. He dated around freely, and he’s pretty sure, considering the amount of times Felix crashed at the apartment because Jisung had a ‘guest’ at their dorm, that Jisung was far from celibate himself.

As close as they were, discussions on their romantic and sexual endeavours were strangely taboo. Minho didn't know who was waiting for whom — at the time, he would press that it was neither; that was a lie though because he was always waiting, he just didn't know what he was waiting for.

It wasn't until around Jisung's 21st birthday that he found some answers. Jisung was only a day older than Felix, and a week older than Seungmin so it made sense that the three of them celebrated together.

Changbin offered up their apartment as a party venue, and Minho didn't care enough to protest. Besides, it was one-thirds for Jisung, and how could he say no to that?

Alcohol was free-flowing thanks to Changbin's AmEx card, and Minho felt bold enough to chug drink after drink, losing count of the amount of shots he continually took through the night. It was a party at his own home, and he had no excuse or reason to hold back. (Getting wasted totally had nothing to do with how Jisung brought a female friend with him and Minho assumed she was his date—to this day Minho would absolutely deny it; maybe even more so today that he knows Seoyeon is nothing but a friend; even more so now that Seoyeon's presence that night was the catalyst for Hyunjin meeting his future wife. Minho isn't the jealous type—that's what he'd like people to assume anyway.)

“Lee Minho!” Jisung had stumbled into the kitchen when Minho had been looking for a spare bottle opener; the rest of the party was in the living room but the walls were thin enough that the loud bass of the music playing only helped to amplify the thrumming of Minho's heart at Jisung's sudden presence.

“Don't creep up on people like that,” Minho had mumbled, turning away from Jisung; uncapping his beer was a flimsy but good enough excuse.

It was hard to look at Jisung when the apples of his round cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, complementing the rosiness of his lips which in turn kept drawing Minho's line of sight towards them. The fact that he was drunk as a fish meant he didn't have enough self-control to keep his long brewing attraction at bay.

“Boo!” Before he knew it, Jisung was suddenly right behind him, close enough that Minho could feel his warm breath against his ear; it made him shudder, but nothing could compare to the electricity that passed through him when Jisung wrapped his arms around him from behind and he squished his cheek against Minho’s his shoulder.

“Jisung.” He could barely react; even the way Jisung’s name slid off his tongue sounded a little slurred.

“Minho,” Jisung whined; he was clearly as inebriated as Minho felt, if not more. “I’m drunk.”

“You think you’re special?” Minho laughed. “So am I.”

He tried prying himself away from Jisung, but he made the grave mistake of turning around to face the younger boy—made the grave mistake of allowing their eyes to meet. The tension in the air grew so thick in that moment that even the party noises in the next room seemed like they completely faded away. Minho vaguely remembers swallowing quietly; he was always the type of drunk who remembered everything.

“Minho,” Jisung called for him again, his voice dropping to a low and infuriatingly sexy whisper; he was so close that Minho could smell the alcohol in his breath but he found that he didn’t mind. Too many other things were running through his alcohol-addled brain, not least among them the fact that he so badly wanted to kiss his friend. It didn’t help that Jisung’s eyes were trained on him, wide, mesmerizing and silently daring him to make a move. “I’m drunk,” Jisung repeated, and for some reason that was what finally did Minho in.

That was the trigger that caused Minho to throw all his carefully built caution to the wind, and had him pulling Jisung to him; had their mouths eagerly crashing together. It was obviously a moment that both of them were impatient for, if the way the kiss is quick to escalate—lips, tongue, teeth mashing together—is any indication.

Somewhere in the back of his head, the sane, sober part of Minho was screaming; berating him for acting like he was the protagonist of some shitty teenage drama. Minho had always thought that TV teens were stupid in how they always seemed to be slaves to their hormones, and yet there he was—in his 20s and falling headlong into the same trap.

Jisung’s kisses were intoxicating, twisting his thoughts more than any kind of alcohol he had imbibed that night. He wanted them so bad, and Minho was desperate and drunk enough that all his inhibitions were easily kept at bay.

With Jisung busy overseeing an upcoming exhibit at the gallery he works at, Minho, who is more or less his own boss, is left to pick up and entertain their friends as they fly into the city one after another. 

Jeongin is the next one to arrive, and even though it’s impossible, Minho thinks he looks an inch or two taller than the last time they met. He wonders if that’s because Jeongin is the youngest among their friend group, so every time they don’t see each other for a prolonged amount of time, there’s an illusion that he’s grown.

“Innie!!” He yells as soon as he spots his friend; he waves both hands in the air, laughing. Something about Jeongin being the youngest also has Minho always acting shameless and silly, like an older brother vying for the youngest brother’s attention; out of habit, he supposes. Remnants from their university years together.

“Minho!” Jeongin grins, his eyes disappearing completely into half moons. They don’t hug because they aren’t as starved for skinship as some of their other friends, but instead they regard each other quietly for a few seconds before they both break out into matching grins.

“Why couldn’t you have arrived the same day as Chan and Lixie did?” Minho clicks his tongue as he helps Jeongin pack the excessive amount of luggage he has in the trunk of his car. He has flown in straight from Seoul where he had spent the last six months because of work placement. “Instead I’ve had to deal with airport traffic twice in a single week.”

He’s complaining but he doesn’t really mind. Jeongin knows it too, because he simply laughs and rolls his eyes. “You’re the one getting married, Minho. Your friends wouldn’t be converging here if you weren’t!”

“Jisung’s the one who wants you all here, not me,” Minho jokes.

Jeongin snorts. “You know you missed us,” he comments as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“You’ve grown up to be a pain in my ass,” Minhon retorts, taking his place behind the wheel. 

“I learned from the expert,” Jeongin says. “His name is Lee Minho.”

Minho laughs. “Maybe I did miss you a little,” he admits; he adjusts the rearview mirror before he starts backing out of his parking spot.

Jeongin grins. “I’ve got good news for you then!”

“Should I hold my breath?”

“I’ve been thinking about moving back here,” Jeongin shares, ignoring Minho’s teasing remark. “I truly miss the sun, and there's an opening in my company's office here. I asked my boss to recommend me.”

“Yeah?” Minho glances sideways at him; he has to admit, he’s pleasantly surprised but it’s welcome news and he’s sure it shows on his expression. “What about your girlfriend?”

“We’ve been doing long distance longer than we haven’t,” Jeongin explains. He had met his current girlfriend at Hyunjin’s wedding, and even then, Jeongin had been based in a different state as her. “But we’ve been talking about making changes regarding that now that I'm back for good and she’s open to moving here. What do you think?”

Minho taps his fingers against the steering wheel, humming. “I think that’s great, Innie. Would be nice to expand our social lives outside of Seungmin and Changbin.”

Jeongin chortles. “Nothing’s set in stone yet though, but I’m hopeful. I think she’s excited for the possible change, actually?” He turns and looks at Minho, his expression much more thoughtful now. “If Jisung had thought of moving out of state in the past, would you have followed?”

Minho doesn't even have to pause and think about it, but the speed in which the answer comes to him does make his cheeks flush.

“I'm marrying the guy,” he points out; the happiness that simple statement brings him is truly embarrassing so he does his best to seem nonchalant about it. “What do you think?”

Frankly, he would probably follow Jisung to the ends of the Earth if Jisung asked him to; the mirth in Jeongin’s laughter tells Minho that Jeongin—and likely the rest of their friends—is very much aware of this.

The morning after their first kiss, Minho was met not just with a colossal hangover but also with news that two of his roommates had finally gotten their act together – Seungmin and Changbin were a couple in the making for just as long as as Minho and Jisung had been at that point. 

“Congratulations,” Minho had told his best friend; he didn’t sound as enthused as he genuinely felt, but that was more because his mouth was as dry as sand, and his head felt like it was pulsating every five seconds or so.

Jisung was nowhere to be found in the apartment, something easily explained when Minho checked their group chat on his phone. Apparently he and Felix had gone back to their dorm that morning; strange because neither of them were above staying entire weekends at the apartment even without prior invitation but whatever, Minho thought.

If Jisung (or Felix, for that matter) missed their cramped dorm room so much that they had to go back at twilight o’clock without waking anyone else up, he was okay with that. He was more than fine with that! And if the reason happened to skew more towards Jisung being uncomfortable or unprepared to talk about what transpired the night before, then Minho could get behind that. 

Besides, he had been drunk—they both were. Past experience from his high school years had taught him that bro friends aren’t above making out when drunk; it isn’t a phenomenon that’s unique to them so if Jisung wanted a pass, Minho could give him one.

All these thoughts had run around his head, not really helping the terrible hangover he had, so he chose to take a couple of Advils, buried his head under his pillow and slept most of the day away. He woke up late in the afternoon, only to walk into Seungmin and Changbin looking suspiciously cozy on the living room couch—and he really should have figured that was a preview of his immediate future.

The following weeks after the party mostly featured Seungmin and Changbin growing increasingly closer. “I was honest with him,” was his best friend’s simple explanation that persistently ran through his thoughts whenever he and Jisung were in the same room.

But Jisung kept mum—he acted like he remembered nothing from that evening; he smiled at Minho like nothing had changed, so Minho followed his lead.

By the time Seungmin and Changbin make their relationship official a month or so after that fateful night—by the time Seungmin and Changbin had elevated their PDA to shameless newlywed style level, Minho and Jisung had simply settled right back into their old habits. Regular coffee hangouts in between their classes and impromptu movie nights here and there.

To be fair, Minho found himself having less and less casual hook-ups—and by ‘less and less,’ he really meant zero casual hook-ups to the point when he had gone a couple of months completely celibate. Not a very fun state to be in considering all his roommates—Hyunjin included—were in new relationships.

“I’m dying here,” was a message he frequently sent Jisung. “Seungmin and Changbin are all over each other in the living room, while Hyunjin is in his room with his gf. SOS.”

“Coming to your rescue!” Jisung was always quick to hit him back. “We can microwave popcorn and throw kernels at Seungmin and Changbin every time their faces come within an inch of each other.”

Or,

“Come and chill with me at my dorm instead,” he would say. “You can take a break from your honeymooning roommates and we can Netflix here.”

Minho always leaned into it—always accepted Jisung’s heroic offers. A small part of him knew he was waiting again, and deny as he might, by then he knew exactly what he was waiting for. But it was that same denial that drove him to overcompensate.

One night, during the end of term, friends from his major invited him to go out clubbing. “We need a fucking night out after that damn project,” Yeonjun, his project partner, had insisted. Considering his laptop had almost given in when coding that term’s final machine problem, Minho figured he deserved a little celebration. So when Jisung asked if he could come over and watch movies with him, he texted him back with a brief apology and a rain check.

That night’s lesson was something that was going to stay with him for a long time yet: alcohol is a truly strange thing. Sometimes it’s good to him—great in the way it lets him lessen his inhibitions and great in the way it lets him grab opportunities he otherwise wouldn’t dare reach for; a lot of the time, however, it doesn’t really do him any favors.

He woke up the next morning, a naked Yeonjun next to him in bed, and he was pretty sure that alcohol fucked him over again. 

Except—not really, because he was pretty sure it was his own choice to grind against Yeonjun on the dance floor; his own choice to pull his project partner towards him; his own choice to push any and all thoughts of Jisung out of his head. Celibacy wasn’t doing him any favors, and ultimately it was his choice to succumb to his own raging lust, and his own choice to bring Yeonjun home with him.

“Hey Minho, we need to—!”

And then Jisung had charged into his bedroom that morning looking pretty gung-ho and determined to talk to him, only to stop short at the sight that had greeted him; Yeonjun, miraculously (and maybe fortunately, all things considered), kept sleeping through the minor ruckus.

In that moment, that small voice at the back of Minho’s head had started back up, laughing at him because he truly had become the protagonist of his own little teen soap.

But it wasn’t a teen soap—it was real life, his life, and Minho will never really forget the way Jisung’s expression had gone from a hundred to zero in a split second; will never forget the mixture of anguish and embarrassment as he sputtered out an apology and he hurried back out of Minho’s room.

“So. You’re getting married tomorrow,” Changbin muses out loud; it’s just the two of them seated next to each other on the back patio of Minho and Jisung's beachfront house. 

The rest of their friends are inside, catching up over drinks, and having a fine time because their entire friend group (including plus ones in some cases), are finally complete again after years. It's only Minho and Changbin who had excused themselves to have a few beers on their own. Minho has known Changbin the longest out of everyone, which is why he's his Best Man.

“Fuck.” Minho laughs. “Can you believe it?”

“Not really,” Changbin deadpans; a beat passes before the two of them lock gazes and simultaneously break into laughter. “Dude,” Changbin wheezes. “I can, and I can’t.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Well things were pretty touch and go for a while, weren't they?”

Minho snorts. “When did we move to talking about your relationship?”

It’s Changbin’s turn to snort, and Minho’s turn to flash a smug grin; true enough, both of their relationships have experienced a lot of ups and downs. Curiously, hardly ever at the same time, at least when they were younger; at least until a couple of years ago when the stars finally aligned in both their favors.

“That’s a valid comeback,” Changbin admits. “But hey, look where we’re both at now.”

Minho grunts; his ears feel hot, because look where they are now.

“You would have thought the universe had a rule against both of us being happy at the same time, huh?” he murmurs.

“Hey!” Changbin cackles as he punches Minho’s shoulder lightly. “Don’t jinx it.”

Minho hums. “But it really was touch and go for a long while, huh?” He exhales quietly, a montage of the past replaying in his head.

“Honestly, there was a time when most of our friends assumed the two of you missed your window of opportunity.” Changbin smirks before taking a swig of beer. “Except me. I had complete faith in you, man.”

Minho laughs. “I thought I missed the window too—for the longest time I figured that was the case.” He shrugs, mirroring Changbin and lifting his own drink to his lips; he’s a little buzzed now and he has always been more honest with Changbin than with anyone else, bar Jisung. “For a while I even had myself convinced that it was fine, as long as we remained at each other’s side as friends.”

“As friends,” Changbin echoes, his tone almost mocking. “You weren’t fooling anyone but yourself. I doubt even Jisung was fooled—he was just as much in denial. What a pair of idiots.”

Minho laughs. “Our youth is all about denial, okay? A person’s early 20s is that time in their life when they’re allowed to be stupid.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“You know I don't have to. You already know.”

Changbin chortles. “Once again a valid comeback.”

Silence takes over briefly, both of them staring at the open ocean; after a while Minho uncaps the next round of beers and he exhales shakily.

“It’s always easier to be myself when I’m with Jisung,” he admits softly. Changbin gives him a curious expression, but he remains silent; he doesn’t make a teasing remark, which is his way of encouraging Minho to continue. “Wanting to always have him in my life made it harder to take risks.”

“Six years, though.” Changbin clicks his tongue. “Took you six damn years.”

“Yeah. Six years filled with bad decisions, and even worse timing.” Minho laughs; it isn’t as if they didn’t have opportunities in the six years they knew each other before they finally confessed to their feelings for one another. 

For one, their first drunken make-out had certainly not been their last; it had not been the first time they had allowed themselves to act on their feelings only to shrink back and choose the safe option once the haze of alcohol was lifted.

It didn’t help that whenever one of them felt ready to take hold of their feelings; whenever one of them felt sober and genuine in their decision to take the next step, the other would pull away—would fall back into the arms of someone else who never lasted in their life for more than a month or two; three, at most. A part of him had always wondered if the reason why Jisung never had a serious relationship was because he was waiting for Minho—it was quite narcissistic of him, but the reality of it was that he never dated anyone for real because he was waiting for Jisung. It was funny how well they got along—how in sync they were in most things except when it came to acting on their own feelings.

It was frustrating, but like Minho just told Changbin—they were young and therefore understandably foolish.

“Look, I'm sure it was frustrating for everyone else to watch us dance around each other,” he admits. “But in those six years, we had a lot of growing to do, and we let ourselves do that on our own terms. He feels so, so warm—and he doesn't know if it's from the alcohol or from his own embarrassment; he usually doesn't like getting into his feelings but he finds that he's been doing just that these last few weeks. "Jisung was patient with me through all those six years. He stayed by my side as my friend, and he never tried to change me or pressure me. And then one day we were just ready to be together. And that's why—“ his voice has been lowered to a soft and gentle whisper at this point, “—I’m the best version of myself when I’m with him. Because all those years filled with frustration taught me that he’s always going to be there for me, but not at his expense, or that of my personal growth.”

“Damn.” Changbin laughs. “Bro, you’re fucking whipped.”  

Minho groans, his back sliding down in his chair. “Fuck, I am, aren’t I?” He laughs along and shakes his head. “No fucking point in denying it.”

“Cheers to that!” Changbin agrees, practically cackling as he lifts his beer bottle. “Cheers to that.”

When they eventually— finally— got together, there wasn’t really much fanfare.

Six years, give or take, had passed since the first time they met; their feelings for each other had stewed that long, but more than that, those years had been spent getting to know each other—inside and out, both the good and the bad.

Somewhere along those six years—after university became a memory of the past, and they all set off on the path of adulthood—Jisung had moved into Minho and Changbin’s apartment. It wasn’t really a big deal; Hyunjin long ago moved out to live with his long-term girlfriend, while Seungmin moved out because things had gone sour between him and Changbin. Jisung’s own roommate had moved back to Australia to be with his family, and moving in with Minho and Changbin was the obvious, practical thing to do.

Changbin likes to refer to that time in his life as his peak third-wheeling era; Minho likes to flick his forehead every time he expresses as much.

Nevertheless, he wasn't completely wrong. Minho and Jisung's close friendship had only deepened when they lived together; they were always doing things together and it didn’t help that Changbin had chosen to throw himself into his work after his own break-up. 

“Kinda sucks, doesn’t it?” Jisung was telling Minho as the two of them hung out. They had a big bowl of popcorn between them, while some lame horror film they found on Netflix played on the television; they were barely paying attention though, and instead they were more focused on gossiping about their third roommate who was doing overtime at his office for the third time that week. “Bin’s never around because he’s choosing to sulk at work, and Seungmin seldom hangs out with us. I think he thinks it's awkward because we live with Changbin. Probably feels like we chose him or something,”

“Seungmin isn't that much of an idiot,” Minho countered; he knew there was probably some truth to what Jisung was saying though. “He might feel that but he’ll know it’s not true. Although—maybe you should invite him to go out this weekend or something. You're closer to him than I am.”

“Hmmm.” Jisung nodded as he stuffed his face with more popcorn; Minho remembers this vividly, if only because he couldn't bring himself to look away from Jisung's puffed up cheeks. “You're right, I might do that.”

Minho had sighed quietly; he had attempted to focus on the movie, but he had kept glancing at Jisung. Seungmin and Changbin's troubles were in his thoughts more than he cared to admit; the way they could barely be in the same room together—the way their friends felt torn even though both of them had assured them all that there was no need to take sides. The possibility of this happening was why Minho had always been so scared to move forward with Jisung, and yet—he couldn't help but still feel envy at his best friend's broken relationship.

At least they had one.

“Hey Minho.” Jisung had said his name under his breath; barely a mumble and yet it was effective in cutting through Minho's thoughts.

“Hm?”

“I just want to say,” he began; he even cleared his throat. “You're one of my best friends. The person I'm most comfortable with, and I hope there never comes a day when we become like Seungmin and Changbin.”

Minho had frowned at that; he wasn't sure what Jisung was trying to say and he had turned to meet the younger's gaze, only to find that Jisung himself seemed to be struggling. His expression was that of unease.

“I mean—” Jisung laughed nervously. “Obviously things are different with us. Seungmin and Changbin were together after all—but. I just thought it was worth saying to you that—”

“Jisung, stop,” Minho interrupted him sharply. The younger man's words felt heavy, if only because they sounded resigned; sad, even. And it was in that moment that Minho realised how pointless it was to keep denying them both of their feelings. He was tired of keeping his own feelings at bay, and he felt too old for the drama that being in denial brought; more than anything else, he just wanted to be with Jisung. At the time he wasn't sure if he was ready for all the trappings that came along with that, but he also knew that he was never going to find out if he didn't take his chance.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbled.

“Don't be,” Minho assured him. “Because I agree. I don't want us to reach a point where it hurts to even be in the same room—you're the person I'm most comfortable with too, Jisung. But—” his breath hitched, and he had reached over, fingers lightly brushing against Jisung's cheek. “I don't want to just be one of your best friends either. I don't want to be just best friends.”

Jisung’s eyes had widened; had filled with hope as they stared at Minho and he struggled to put together what the words meant. “Minho...” he started, only to trail as he seemingly tried to gather his thoughts.

Minho could feel his ears heating up. "You feel the same right?"

Jisung laughed. “Are you an idiot?”

“No?” Minho tried laughing, but the longer Jisung didn't give him a straight answer the more he felt anxious. “Yes? I've been told by Changbin numerous times as much, and maybe he's right—don't tell him though—”

And then Jisung had sighed before he reached forward, grabbed Minho by the ears—which was strangely sexy, but he would digress—and pulled Minho towards himself. The kiss was heated as soon as their mouths crashed together; it wasn’t their first, but it was still filled with years of compounded emotions; with ardent yearning; with unyielding resolution.

“I really don’t want to be just best friends either,” Jisung had whispered breathless, once he managed to pull away; panting, whiny, yet absolutely firm and decided.

“Yeah—” Minho could only laugh, unable to keep at bay the joy that had bloomed in his heart. “I could tell.”

A few things:

One, Minho bought a pair of engagement rings after his small start-up company received a generous funding extension from a venture capitalist firm. It was completely spontaneous because marriage wasn’t something that he and Jisung had been actively discussing, yet, upon paying for it didn’t feel like that at all – it felt like it had been a long time coming, and it was a purchase that he deemed well spent.

For a while he didn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t care much for being described as romantic, but deep inside, Minho had always considered himself to be a romantic guy, and he kept the rings a secret because he wanted to pick—no, he wanted to plan the perfect moment to ask Jisung. 

Two, the morning of the day he had mentally marked as the day he was going to propose—he had planned for it too, fancy evening dinner and wine and an embarrassingly romantic scenario all set-up—he had early morning breakfast where his boyfriend, over very unromantic soggy cereal, asked, out of the blue, “Hey Minho, wanna get hitched?” 

Minho had almost choked on milk, while Jisung looked surprised at his own words—like his joke had fallen flat, or rather, like his joke had rang a little too true.

“Did you find the rings?” Minho asked, in between coughs.

“Huh? What?” Jisung’s own confusion had only grown; as if he was trying to process Minho’s words on top of his own. “What rings?”

Minho blinked, swallowed the overly chewed food in his mouth, and then he quietly padded out of the kitchen, only to return a few minutes late. He held out to Jisung the small velvet box he had kept hidden in his gym bag for the last two weeks, unable to keep the smug grin that spread across his face when his boyfriend’s eyes had widened like saucers. 

“Are you fucking real?!” Jisung had squawked after he took the present, and he caught a glimpse of what was inside. 

Minho laughed, stepped closer, and planted a chaste kiss on the corner of Jisung’s mouth. “Guess now you know if I want to get hitched—do you?”

Three: It’s a sunny day when Lee Minho and Han Jisung get married.

It happens on the beach, in a small sheltered bay very close to the waterfront property that they jointly own and live at. The guest list isn’t very big; intimate and mostly family and friends that they’ve had and shared for a long time.

Seungmin, who helped plan and coordinate at least 90% of the wedding was also the one standing at the end of the aisle, looking incredibly proud and happy as their wedding officiant.

(“You should quit your job and start a wedding planning company,” Jisung had joked once.

“That’s right, you should be paying me,” Seungmin was quick to bite back. “You willing to do that?”

Jisung had laughed in response, and so had Minho; to be fair, they’re extremely grateful and Seungmin doesn’t know it yet—won’t know until right before Jisung and Minho leave for their honeymoon, but they did book Seungmin and Changbin a weekend staycation at one of the city’s nicest hotels.)

Minho initially stumbles when he starts on his vows, but Jisung keeps his eyes on him, bright, loving, happy, and it lends him enough courage to get the rest out, even though his face is embarrassingly warm and his ears are ridiculously hot.

“Han Jisung,” he begins. “I think most of our friends were shocked when we told them that we were going to get married—I think they all assumed we were going to continue living in sin—as if we don’t think about all the tax perks married people have—?”

“Yah—” Jisung interrupts him, eyes narrowed, but still with a silly grin that he obviously couldn’t wipe off his face even if he tried. The audience laughs, but Minho doesn’t really care—all he could see was Jisung, ecstatic.

“But—” he swallows, only to exhale shakily; the grin on his face is unmistakable, however. “But here we are now,” he says. He’s nervous because he never really ended up finalising his vows; he tried writing it as a list – things he loves about Jisung; things he wants to promise Jisung, and things he wants to tell Jisung. He knows them all in his heart, and in the end, here he is, winging it, just as he had said he would. He knows he’s an idiot, but Jisung doesn’t seem to care if he stumbles all over his words. “I think I’m meant to make promises to you, but—most of what I want to tell you, you already know.”

“Minho—” Jisung laughs, and squeezes their joined hands; Minho’s heart swells just from the simple action.

“Han Jisung,” he murmurs, “there are really only a few things I can truly promise, and they all begin with—I vow to always be by your side like you have always been by mine. I vow to always be a version of myself that I can be proud of, after all, how can I expect you to like me if I can’t like myself?” He chuckles softly, and as his confidence grows, it’s his turn to squeeze Jisung’s hands in his. “Han Jisung, I vow to just be myself—the person you chose to be with, and the person who chose to be with you. I love you, Han Jisung.”

His face feels so warm; in a way his words probably sound incredibly smug and self-satisfactory. I promise to be myself, who says that to their groom? But the way Jisung laughs and beams at him—Minho knows he gets it. 

(Jisung’s vows are much more poetic; much more confidently delivered, with just the right amount of wit and humor mixed in with the sincere, genuine message of loving Minho forever. Minho expected as much; nevertheless, it doesn’t stop him from internally swooning.)

Finally: He will deny if asked, but Lee Minho always knew—he was always going to marry Han Jisung, it was only ever just a matter of when.

(The important thing is—Han Jisung knows; and Han Jisung would gladly tell as much to anyone who asks.)

fin.