Chapter Text
The decision to move in together was made very casually. When the members had all agreed to move out on their own and gave themselves a deadline to find their respective homes, Jisung nodded along like the rest of the group.
It wasn’t until a week before the move-out date that Minho had asked him how his search for an apartment had been going. It hadn’t, Jisung replied.
Jisung did not find a place of his own. Truthfully, he didn’t even care to look and didn’t care to get a real estate agent, either.
That was very much in keeping with how Jisung dealt with the most pressing matters in his life: he left it until the last minute to make a decision. So, when Minho offered his place until Jisung found himself a home.
Jisung agreed, mainly because it made sense, but a small part of him was excited to live with Minho again. After all, they had been separated in different dorms long ago. The idea of being near his friend again on a daily basis was appealing. Not that they rarely saw each other. On the contrary, Minho and Jisung were inseparable. Soulmates. Jisung liked the idea of having found such a friend so early on in life. After ten years of friendship, Minho continued to be his favorite human.
In the beginning of the new arrangement, they spent much of their time together, as usual. Minho had always been the member with whom Jisung spent most of his time. It had been much easier than Jisung ever thought it would be to adjust to life at two. After all, blending into each other’s lives happens seamlessly when you wake up and go to sleep with one another.
Do not get Jisung wrong; he had his own bedroom. Minho’s place was certainly big enough for all of the members to live with him, but Jisung found that, on most nights, the king-size bed in Minho’s room was the most comfortable.
Minho never said a word about it, being a man of actions more than words. He also hoped Jisung would feel comfortable in the new home. Living alone was a big change for all of them, so Minho did his best to make Jisung well adjusted with the relocation.
Two years later, Jisung had not moved out. He was fully installed in Minho’s apartment. Why change something so good? Content with their arrangement, and since Minho had never kicked him out, Jisung stayed and stayed.
They truly lived like a married couple, sans the intimate part. Minho cooked, and Jisung cleaned. Jisung played his guitars, and Minho sang. Minho was away for Gucci events, Jisung called him. They split the bills, split the food, split the chores. None of the members commented on it. It seemed as though that was the most natural course of things for Jisung and Minho. They’d inevitably end up together, in their minds. However that may be.
Two years in, in a well-established routine, Minho suddenly did what Jisung thought was unthinkable: He said something to him that was so out of brand for Minho and their relationship that it had left Jisung frozen.
“I’d like to sleep alone tonight, Jisung-ah,” he had said without looking at Jisung, making his way under the blankets.
Jisung, who hadn’t spent a single night in his own bedroom for at least six months, just nodded along, took his cellphone charger, and left Minho to his own devices.
Jisung did not sleep that night. He tossed and turned endlessly in his own, now foreign, bed.
On the next morning, Minho, with dark bags under his eyes, seemed to have had a sleepless night, too. Jisung didn’t comment, and neither did Minho. They went on about their days as if nothing strange had happened.
A few days later, Jisung, who had made his bedroom his own again, was trying to take an afternoon nap when he received a text from Minho.
“I won’t be home for dinner. Can you make yourself something to eat?”
This was particularly disruptive, added to the sleeping alone request, mainly because, first, Minho always cooked for Jisung and second, Minho always let Jisung know what he’d be doing if he was not home.
Jisung replied with a thumbs-up, microwaved some frozen food, and went to his room alone for the rest of the night.
He heard Minho coming back home late that night, the living room door closing quietly. Jisung could only hear it because he was spending another sleepless night in his bed.
Then, he heard Minho's footsteps, close—so close to his door that he thought Minho would come into his room. A sparkle of excitement reached his heart, but in vain. The next few steps were far away, then another door closed—Minho’s bedroom door. Silence.
The next few weeks were followed by lonely, sleepless nights and several single-serving microwave meals. Was this their new normal? What happened? Jisung wondered in his new discomfort.
Outside of that, however, everything else seemed to be ok between them. Minho continued their dynamics as usual; they’d drive together to the company, they’d split the chores, Jisung would call Minho when he was away, and Minho would answer.
In his anxiety and fear of confrontation, Jisung didn’t question Minho. Who was he anyway to question his friend for wanting alone time? After all, when they do everything together, Minho is certainly entitled to request alone time, right?
Jisung, however, had never wanted alone time, certainly not from Minho. Sure, he was a man who didn’t like going out, big crowds, or making plans. But with Minho… Jisung had always welcomed Minho into his life. The most mundane things were done as two. He was used to that, and he didn’t want to give up on it. Something was missing now, and it was something big. In his darkest moments, he could swear he felt his heart breaking.
His internal questioning and overthinking came to such lengths that he had to pose himself the question, why?
Why didn’t he want to be separated from Minho? Why couldn’t he sleep alone? Why didn’t he like to eat alone? Why, after all these years, was Minho still his favorite person to spend time with?
Jisung gripped his pillow, lying in his preferred fetal position. He bit his lips so as not to cry. Jisung hated being without Minho. Being away from Minho felt wrong. It felt like a part of him was missing, and he didn’t know why. Friends come and go, so why was he not okay with Minho drifting away, too?
Minho had always been a constant in his life, the one person who stayed by his side. Members would sometimes approximate themselves to one another for a certain period of time, sometimes due to new-found interests, but Minho was not like that. Minho was always there, and in Jisung’s mind, he’d always be there no matter what.
Jisung never had to question whether Minho needed space, wanted to be alone, or preferred doing things on his own. The fact of the matter was that Minho and Jisung naturally gravitated towards each other during the survival reality show and never fell distant. Science couldn’t explain it; they just were.
So, no, Jisung did not know how to behave, what to feel, or what was appropriate when Minho asked for these atrocities. Space? What is space when you’ve always been glued together? Such words did not exist in their vocabulary until now.
When morning came, Jisung, who thought that most things were better left alone and slept them off, had a resolution: this was their new normal. They did not have to do everything together. Jisung would adjust for Minho. He’d adjust to keep Minho happy and hold on to whatever was left of their friendship. After all, everything else seemed to remain the same.
Minho didn’t give Jisung an explanation, nor did he seek Jisung's help restoring things to their former state. So did Jisung, who tended to follow his friend and seek advice for most matters. He’d do it as Minho did now, too.
With time, however, Jisung, not knowing how to behave, couldn’t help but put even more distance between them. Even when Minho was home, he’d be confined to his room. Even when Minho cooked, Jisung left to eat takeout in his car. Even when Minho suggested driving them to the company, Jisung stayed behind and took a cab.
In Jisung’s eyes, Minho did not seem to mind whatever Jisung was doing. He went along with it, which made Jisung even more apprehensive and disappointed. Did he not care that their friendship, the one thing left of normalcy in their lives, was falling apart?
But Jisung did not know how to confront Minho, or if he even had the right to do so. Putting more distance between them seemed the only response to whatever Minho started himself. And since he didn’t question Jisung, Jisung kept on slipping away. Further and further away, until:
“Hyung, I’m going to move out.”
Minho, who was eating alone in the living room, paused for a moment, carefully placed his chopsticks on the table, and looked up.
Jisung’s stomach was about to come out through his mouth, so much anxiety that he had at telling Minho this piece of information. He watched Minho from the other side of the dining room, fists clenched by his side.
What else was left for him to do? Could he keep on living with Minho if Minho did not care to be with him?
With a calm voice, Minho asked, “Why would you do that?”
Jisung took a deep breath and looked at his friend in the eye. Why would Jisung do that? Was it not obvious? Was Minho so oblivious to what Jisung had been going through? Was he blind to Jisung’s discomfort?
He took all the courage he needed to say, “It seems like the right thing to do.”
I’m an adult, right? I should be able to live alone, do things alone, and not depend on you for emotional support or anything else.
Minho, who was still as a rock for several long seconds—seconds when Jisung thought to jump on his neck and plead for Minho to ask him to stay. But Minho just nodded—one hard and restrained nod.
“Whatever makes you happy, Jisung-ah,” he finally replied, eyes back on the bowl before him, picking up the chopsticks again.
A dismissive ending to years of friendship and companionship.
Jisung watched Minho for a while longer until he strolled down to his room, tears falling down his eyes, his mouth slack in silent desolation.
Jisung moved, albeit to a much smaller place not too far from Minho’s neighborhood and close enough to the company. It was a weird day for him. He didn’t care about leaving his bedroom, the apartment, or the home he made for himself at Minho’s. He cared exclusively about Minho and how they’d gotten to such a situation.
With a heavy heart full of misunderstood feelings, he took the last bag from his bedroom, the one with bathroom items and enough clothes for the day, and strolled down the hall towards the living room. That was when Minho entered the apartment, as Jisung was two steps away from the front door.
They stared at each other. Minho eyed the bag, Jisung, and some random point across the room.
Is everything okay between us? What did I do wrong? What happened for you to be okay with me leaving your life like this? I thought we were friends. Thoughts permeated Jisung’s mind. There were too many thoughts, too many questions, and not enough strength to voice any of them.
Minho, who still had his hand on the door handle, looked back at Jisung, a still silent yet confused Jisung, and said, “Do you have everything?”
Jisung’s eyes went wide, and then he collected himself and nodded.
“Right,” Minho replied to the simple nod, looking away again.
Jisung wanted to scream at him, shake him, claw at his skull. Why are you being like this? Let me understand you! I thought we were friends. I thought we were friends. I thought we were friends.
“Min-,” Jisung opened his mouth to speak but cut himself off.
Minho looked at him. And if Jisung didn’t know him this well, he wouldn’t have noticed the tinge of expectation in his eyes. It died as quickly as it had appeared, though.
Jisung shook his head, gripped the bag's strap hard, and walked towards the door where Minho stood. "Thanks for having me all this time.”
Minho, giving space for Jisung to walk through the door, gave him another forced nod.
The only thing that comforted Jisung at that moment was that, besides having become distant at home, Minho behaved the same way in public and at work.
Minho still laughed at Jisung’s jokes during interviews, stayed as late as necessary at the recording studio with Jisung, and treated him with utmost preference during dance practices.
If Jisung couldn’t count on his friend in any other part of his life, at least he had that. If he couldn’t have all of Minho, at least he had Minho-the-SKZ-member.
Or so he thought.
“Hyung, I can’t do this move, can you show me again?” Jisung pleaded in front of the mirror. He was trying to get this one specific dance move for the fourth time and failed miserably.
“Sorry, Jisung-ah. I don’t have time right now. Just watch the practice video later,” was all Minho said before moving on to the next steps they needed to learn for the next verse of the song.
Jisung was left looking at Minho’s back, mouth slack, in pure disbelief.
“Can you sing that line again? A little more breathy now,” Jisung asked from the other side of the glass in the recording studio days later.
Minho didn’t say anything for a long moment, looking at the lyrics again, until, “Why don’t you ask Seungmin to record this part? He’ll be better at it anyway.”
With that, Minho took the headphones off, his phone, opened the booth door and left, leaving Jisung looking at the empty space again, in pure disbelief. Chan put a hand on his shoulder, in a silent questioning, but nothing came out. From neither of them.
The last bit was particularly hard for Jisung. He and Minho had this thing where they’d always sit together during interviews. It was just how they did things. There was an unspoken agreement that they’d sit next to each other no matter what. It happened without fail at this point.
Until this one interview with Buzzfeed, when Jisung sat down and waited for Minho to sit next to him, as he always did, only to see Minho waiting for Chan, Felix, and Hyunjin, also part of the interview, to sit down and then find his own place on the other far end of the row of chairs.
Minho knew, more than anyone, how to control Jisung’s anxiety during interviews. He knew that Jisung would shake his leg involuntarily, he knew that Jisung’s heart would pound during the first 60 seconds, and he knew that Jisung needed him next to him. His silent companion was needed during these public appearances. But Minho decided to break their pact this time. Jisung wanted to cry. He didn’t, but it certainly felt like it.
Needless to say, that interview was a disaster. Jisung barely spoke. He kept glancing at their manager, behind the camera and took Chan’s hand in a desperate gesture, almost cracking his fingers so much he pressed their hands together. Minho did not spare him a glance.
No words, no touches, no eye contact. That’s how Minho left the interview room and the studio, ultimately getting in his car with his manager.
The certainty that he must have done something wrong took over Jisung’s thoughts. Otherwise, why would Minho behave like that? From friends to soulmates to strangers.
In his distraught state, a new line of questioning came to mind. Had no one else noticed what was going on? Did they not care? Was Jisung seeing things, over analyzing this? Was he going mad?
With a racing heart, he decided to pose the question to the one person who was bound to be honest and not make a joke.
“Have you noticed anything weird about Minho lately?” he asked Felix in the car on his way back to the company later that day.
Felix thought briefly and put his phone down, sensing Jisung’s tension.
“Not really, why?”
“He’s just…” how could Jisung even put it? He’s just not glued to me all day long anymore. We don’t sleep on the same bed. We don’t eat meals together. We don’t call every day when we’re not in the same room. He doesn’t help me in dance practice. He doesn’t sit next to me. He doesn't make an effort during my recording sessions. He doesn’t even look at me properly. He is a stranger now. And I miss… I miss my best friend. “He’s just really quiet nowadays.”
“Haven’t noticed, to be honest. But we’ve been really busy, he could be just stressed out. You live with him; is he ok at home? Is he sleeping enough?”
That took Jisung aback. Did no one know that Jisung had moved out? Jisung didn’t recall telling any of the members. Mainly because it hurt him too much to even say the words, almost as if he had failed miserably at the most important relationship of his life. But Minho, to have him not say a word to anyone else either was indeed puzzling. So puzzling that this almost took Jisung out of his frenzied state of anxiety.
“Right, yeah, I think he isn’t. Maybe that’s it,” Jisung replied, wanting to end the conversation he had started himself so that he could have more time alone with his thoughts.
Right, because that’s what he needed.
Jisung, of course, had many days of overthinking after the interview. So much so that the only solution to his sleepless nights in his lonely apartment was to go to the company after hours, where he’d have the recording studio for himself. No one would bother him there. He could put these awful feelings of self-loathing into beautiful songs. He could sleep there. He could spend a couple of hours not thinking about Minho for a change.
On the third night, instead of finding a dark recording studio, he saw the lights on as he made his way down the hall towards the room.
His first thought was that Chan or Changbin must have had the same idea as he did and were recording something late at night, too. He almost got excited at the thought of having company at that time of night. The time when his overthinking was particularly bad, when his brain kept screaming Minho at him, followed by the words soulmate, hurt, cry, closeness, hurt, cry, soulmate. It was a nightmare.
But his tinge of excitement died down pretty quickly, and it was replaced by immense sorrow when he opened the door to reveal Minho on the couch, in a fetal position, hugging that stupid Spotify pillow that Chan had left there years ago. The pillow that undoubtedly smelled like Jisung now because that’s what he had been using to sleep when morning came after his long recording sessions in the middle of the night.