Chapter Text
Jisung leans back and spins idly, bumping into Chan for the hundredth time in twenty minutes, as he stuffs his cheeks with another handful of Cheetos.
Chan huffs and reaches out, latching onto the back of the chair mid-spin. “Stop fidgeting or I’m gonna chuck you outside, mate,” he says gruffly, obviously getting a bit tired of the repeated interruptions.
Jisung slowly turns to look at him over his shoulder, eyes wide, cheeks bulging, lips puckered. He gives a subtle nod of understanding and apology.
Changbin scoffs in disgust at the cuteness. “How can you be mad at that face?”
Jisung nods in agreement, exaggerating his pout in Chan’s direction for added effect.
“If he got any cuter, I’d have to strangle him,” Changbin adds.
Jisung stops nodding, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. He quickly swallows and hollows out his cheeks. “Maybe don’t,” he suggests with a shrug before turning his chair to face his desk and scooching under it for protection.
Changbin chuckles to himself, turning back to his computer. “Suit yourself.”
Jisung tries to refocus, wiggling his mouse to bring his screen back to life. The light flashes and he squints, eyes already unadjusted. Damn, how long was he spacing out? Blinking his vision back to normal, he notices the traces of orange dust on his mouse. Gross. Too comfortable folded up in his chair to go wash his hands properly, he opens a side drawer and extracts a pack of wet wipes, the kind with the baby powder scent that sends him into nirvana. After thoroughly wiping down each finger, trying to absord as much of the heavenly scent into his skin as he can, he takes a couple extra deep breaths with it pressed to his nose.
“Are you alright over there?”
Jisung looks to his right where Chan’s working at his adjacent station to see a very curious expression on Chan’s face. “Don’t judge me,” Jisung huffs as he chucks the evidence of his shame into the bin under his desk.
Chan rolls his eyes and returns to his screen, mouse clicking away manically. Until the room is suddenly filled with incessant gurgling and squeaking.
Jisung has the straw of his drink between his pouted lips, scraping up and down through the opening of the lid as he sucks every last remaining atom of life out of the cup.
Abruptly, the cup disappears from his hand, straw nakedly dangling from his lips, followed by a clamor of empty plastic skittering across a wooden floor.
Chan, with an intimidating calmness, lowers his hand and leans forward, elbows resting on his thighs. “Hey, what’s up buddy? You doin’ okay?”
Jisung chokes, straw dropping from his lips. “Are you?”
Chan smiles, eyes squinting. It makes him even more intimidating. With an eerily cheery and patient tone, he says, “I’ll be fine when you let out whatever’s going on in your head so we can get back to work.”
Jisung gulps. Maybe he has been a bit too in his head. And maybe he’s been a bit too unaware of himself today. He’s folded up in his chair like a pretzel, remnants of his snacking littering his desk. And his lap. There are Little Debbie wrappers in the pocket of his hoodie. He’s still in the same hoodie he pulled out of the dryer three days ago. He’s still in his pajama pants and he’s pretty sure these are yesterday’s socks. He can’t remember if he took them off before he fell asleep scrolling TikTok. Thinking about it now makes him cringe and his feet suddenly feel like they’re suffocating.
“I think I’m a bit out of it,” he concludes, yanking off his socks and tossing them across the living room.
Chan’s head cocks to the side, smile still creepily frozen on his face, as if to say “you think?” Jisung gets the message either way.
“Yeah, okay, I get it. I’m sorry. I’ll stop,” Jisung says, hands up in surrender. “Let’s get back to work.” He swivels back to his screen, darkened again from inactivity.
Chan shakes his head and reaches forward, grabbing the arms of Jisung’s chair to swivel him back around to face him. “I don’t think so. Not until you let some of it out.” He taps the side of Jisung’s forehead as way of defining it.
Jisung pouts out his bottom lip, which Chan immediately snaps at playfully, causing Jisung to rear back.
“I’m fine,” he huffs, blowing a stream of cheeto breath into Chan’s eyes to fend him off.
“We can tell,” Changbin says sardonically over his shoulder as Chan wriggles away from Jisung’s chair.
“Dental hygiene is a privilege, Jisung, one you shouldn’t neglect.” He fake gags, waving the foul air out of his breathing space. “I get you haven’t macked anyone in a hot minute but we still have to share oxygen with you.”
Changbin hisses and finally pulls away from his work, turning in his chair to check Jisung’s reaction, which flickers from mild disconcertment to offense-fully-taken. Chair legs groan, wheels squeak, a loud smack on a firm back, and Chan shouts, “YA!”
When Chan whips around to face him, a finger waggles directly in front of his face. “That was not very mindful. Not cutesy. Not demure.” Changbin fixes him with a disapproving scowl.
Chan blinks at the finger, then glares past it at the offender. His lips thin out in a flat smile before grasping the waggling appendage and twisting it, the attached arm and body contorting along with it. Changbin hollers for mercy as he slaps every surface within range to tap out. When Chan releases him and turns back, Changbin childishly sticks out his tongue and both middle appendages.
Jisung, in the meantime, returned to his computer screen, now alive and brightly displaying the most recent composition he’d been working on before he zoned out into the cheese-dusted foil bag. He tries to remember what part he was attempting to edit until a socked foot connects with his calf with a dull thud that actually kinda hurts a little.
“So you’re still upset about Keeho?”
“Jesus, dude!” Changbin sighs, reaching over to whack at the back of Chan’s shoulder again. “You are such an Australian!”
Chan’s eyebrows scrunch together. “I’m just checking on how my friend’s doing after his breakup!” he whines, grimacing as he rubs at his shoulder.
“Yeah, well, your friend is Korean. He’ll talk if and when he wants, probably drunk. And act up about it in silence until then.”
Jisung cocks his head with a “yeah, pretty much” expression.
“That’s stupid,” Chan responds, bewilderment painting his face. “We’re all friends and none of us subscribe to that toxic masculinity bull shit here.” He gives them both stern looks to emphasize this is not a read on personalities but a firmly held law of the apartment.
Changbin starts to say something that would probably start another round of whack-a-dumbass but they both pause and turn at the sound of a sharp inhale.
Jisung takes an audible deep breath, eyes closed and hands poised on the edge of the desk for dramatic pause before pushing slowly away from his desk. The seriousness of it is baffooned by the crinkling of one of the Little Debbie wrappers that’s fallen on the floor to be run over by the chair wheels. Jisung’s eyes crack open and blink a few times before he releases his big-boy-feelings sigh in a rush through puckered lips.
“I’m not upset about Keeho.”
“Told you you should have backed off,” Changbin says smugly, sticking his tongue out again. Chan returns the gesture.
Jisung clears his throat. “I’m not upset,” he emphasizes loudly, commanding their attention back on him. “It is about Keeho.”
Chan throws a smug wink over his shoulder before turning fully again to face Jisung. “What is about Keeho?”
Jisung’s head drops to the back of his chair. “I don’t know, I can’t really figure out what’s bothering me so much about it. I guess that’s why I’m so distracted.”
He pauses to think about how to explain, his face bunching up like his thoughts taste sour.
“We weren’t even that into each other anymore. I think we were just together to be together. There was no spark left, we hardly even had sex anymore. But we had each other.” Jisung’s head slowly comes back up and he looks down at his hands in his lap, curled up halfway in the sleeves. “It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good. I guess it was just comforting knowing he was there. It’s been a long time since I’ve been single, and he was my longest. It’s just hard to…not have someone, you know?”
Chan and Changbin nod, exchanging looks. They both know Jisung, know that he’s a lover. Not just romantically, he also loves his friends deeply. He was born to give attention and affection and to make people smile and laugh.
Chan reaches out and gives him a soft pat, two pats, and a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “It makes sense.”
Jisung looks up at him with soft eyes, upturned eyebrows.
“After so long of having someone to give that side of yourself without restraint, suddenly not having that place, an outlet, would be a loss. Especially if it wasn’t bad. Even if it was for the best.”
Jisung nods, a little shrug. “Isn’t it a little pathetic? Being so codependent that I want someone just so they’re there, even if they don’t love me?”
Jisung’s chair is turning and Chan is in his air bubble again in a heartbeat. “It’s human, Jisung. You’re human to enjoy affection, even when it’s platonic.”
Jisung scoffs. “We’ve talked about this. I’m an alien.” He rolls his eyes for effect, an attempt at diffusing the sentimental scene.
Chan laughs under his breath. “Then I guess aliens like affection, too.”
“Maybe you just need to get laid.”
Chan’s head jerks back.
“Are you offering?” Jisung retorts, wriggling an eyebrow and smirking, sending Changbin an air kiss with a flirty wink.
Changbin cocks his head, looking up as if considering the idea. “I mean, if it would help you get out of this funk so we can get back to work.”
It’s Chan’s turn to smack and Changbin expectedly wails as if he’s been struck by a paddle, non-errotically.
Jisung rolls his eyes and dips a foot to the floor, mindlessly pushing into a spin as his head lolls back again. “I think I’m gonna take a break, actually.”
Chan and Changbin, giggling, pause their playfighting and look back at him with matching questioning expressions.
“A break from fucking Changbin?” Chan looks back at the man under his arm and in all seriousness asks, “when did you two start fucking?”
Changbin shoves Chan back into his chair, which whips around before sharply colliding with the edge of his desk. “Dude! For real?”
Chan can’t hold in his laugh but holds his hands up placatingly. “Hey, I’m not judging!” Chan shrugs as he continues. “But, I mean, it’s you. I don’t know who of us you’ve gotten around to.”
Changbin opens his mouth, looking like he’s ready to educate about something.
“And I didn’t ask!” Chan closes his eyes as if that will stop his ears from working and holds his hands out in front of him as if they can stop sound.
“I wasn’t-,” Changbin starts, cutting himself off with a huff. “Jisung and I have not fucked. And quit making it sound like I’m whoring around our whole group chat.”
Jisung actually cracks a smile this time, head tilting to aim a bombastic side-eye at the man. “If the shoe fits, Cinderella.” He pushes off into another spin.
Changbin grabs the pink pig-nosed bunny plushy from his desk and hurls it at the side of Jisung’s head, which makes contact with a soft thud and bounces off to the floor. Shocked and appalled, Jisung picks up the tiny toy and chucks it back, finally laughing.
Changbin catches it, his features softening with relief at seeing his younger friend smile. “Taking a break from what, Hannie?”
Jisung shrugs deeper into his chair, feeling the expiration date of bearing this kind of attention rapidly approaching. “From relationships, I guess. I don’t want to feel dependent on someone. I wanna know that in the future I won’t settle just out of fear of being alone or having to start over.” He wrinkles his nose at his own vulnerability and pushes into another spin.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually,” Chan says as he turns back to his monitor, catching the signs of Jisung trying to make himself small. “You’ve pretty much been cuffed since before we started school. Your longest break was what? A month?”
Jisung looks up, searching through his mental history of trists, flings, and romances. “Yeah, something like that.”
Chan whines in desperate fool.
Changbin gives him a curious scowl, looking him up and down as if he’s seeing a full-size clown. “The fuck you upset about? You’re married to your work, that’s on you.”
“I can still be jealous.” Chan backhands Changbin’s shoulder and then grips the back of his chair, forcefully spinning him to face the other way back towards his own computer. He turns back to Jisung. “So, yeah. Might do you some good to learn how to be on your own. To self sooth.”
Jisung rears back his head, nose wrinkling in disgust. “Don’t call it that. Ew. And I know how to masturbate, thanks.”
Changbin chokes from the force of the laughter that burst out of him, doubling over his keyboard.
“That’s not what I-.” Chan wipes a hand down his face. “I just meant taking care of yourself.”
“Yeah, I got that. And I take care of myself just fine!”
Chan struggles to speak, mouth opening and closing, expression showing the internal malfunction. “Yeah, I’m sure you do. How do you-?”
“Jesus, Chan, what kind of kinky shit are you wanting to know about my ‘self-care’ routine?”
Changbin is hugging his abs, pained gasps now coming out between bursts of laughter.
Chan’s hands fly around gesturing wildly in exasperation. “You literally just said-! The fuck-? How did I become-? I’m not asking-! -like some pervert?!”
Jisung’s straight face finally folds, his cheeks puffing out and sputtering trying to hold in his laughter until it breaks loose and he’s laughing just as hard as Changbin.
Chan’s eyes narrow, his cheeks flushed and chest still heaving from trying to defend himself. “Fuck you,” he says before whipping back to his monitor with a sour pouty face.
Jisung, after a few moments of wheezing and sighing as he tries to regain his composure, scoots closer to Chan. “Sorry, hyung.” Jisung adorns a puppy dog face and lays his head on Chan’s shoulder. “If by learning to self-sooth…,” he starts, pausing to suppress another bout of giggles, “you mean being able to deal with loneliness without trying to cuff up just for the cuddles and sex?…Yeah, you’re right. I do need to learn how to do that.”
Changbin on the other side of Chan is still wiping tears from his eyes. “You know you can just have casual sex and platonic cuddles, right?”
Without moving from his spot on Chan’s shoulder, Jisung replies, “what you do with Felix is your business. I’m happy to cuddle him 24/7, but with the utmost respect and brotherly love, my dick will not be going where your dick has gone.”
Chan’s entire body spasms, tossing Jisung off of him, and he turns to glare at Changbin.
Changbin stutters, “I haven’t-!” Chan turns back to face his monitor, eyes squinting shut as if he’s trying to reset before the memory becomes permanent. Changbin leans back to glare around him at Jisung. “I didn’t mean Felix.” He then lowers his voice to a whisper that can still clearly be heard by anyone in the entire room. “Get your own!”
Two hands smack down on the wood, rattling everything on all three desks and the four walls. “I think it’s time to order something for dinner, yeah?”
Changbin grips Chan’s shirt and yanks him back down into his seat, who huffs, his eyes still straight ahead burning holes through his monitor screen, before addressing Jisung again. “What I meant was you can have like a fuck buddy and still be working on your independence. Just don’t get too needy.”
Jisung gasps dramatically, hand over his heart. “Me? Needy? I would never.”
Chan scoffs. Jisung whips a sweater paw at his arm.
“Yeah, sure. Not Han Jisung,” Changbin says rolling his eyes. “All I’m saying is you can still get what you miss in a relationship without the strings, as long as everyone’s on the same page. That way you don’t end up in another situationship just cause you’re too desperate to say no.”
“Ya! I’m not desperate! And I’m not desperate enough to need a fuck buddy.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” questions Changbin, getting defensive.
“I’m not judging how you do you,” Jisung quickly reassures. “I just don’t think I can do that. I need some kind of connection.”
Changbin narrows his eyes. “What do you think a fuck buddy is?”
Jisung looks at him suspiciously. “A booty call?”
Changbin snorts. “Hannie, no. There’s a difference. A booty call is someone who’s phone number you keep when you want a hookup without the work of going and finding one.” Jisung’s brows knit together and Chan’s head turns slightly, both now intrigued. “A fuck buddy is someone who you know and have good sexual chemistry with, but neither of you wanna date each other, probably don’t wanna date period, but you like sex and get together to fulfill each other’s needs. Mutually beneficial.”
Chan looks at Jisung, both suddenly impressed by Changbin’s enlightenment on this topic. “So what about friends with benefits?” Chan asks, turning back to Changbin. “Is that the same as a fuck buddy?”
Changbin scratches the back of his neck, eyes suddenly darting around the room as a nervous laugh sneaks up out of his chest. “Not exactly. Friends with benefits, like for real, is pretty rare. It’s someone who’s an actual friend. Someone who, without the sex, you would still get along and hang out with. But you also like having platonic sex with each other.” He shrugs with another nervous laugh and turns back to his monitor, suddenly busying himself with his project.
Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up and he’s hit by comprehension, but decides this time to keep it to himself and save Chan the discomfort of their teasing. “So, why is it rare?”
Changbin responds, still staring at his screen, “It’s hard to keep casual for long. It almost always gets messy. Someone gets their feelings involved and wants more. Someone gets uncomfortable and backs out. Things get weird and they stop being friends. Someone gets too dependent on it and the other gets a partner, leaving the first one hanging. Messy,” he ends with a shrug.
Chan nods along in agreement. “Maybe that’s not the right fit for you, Hannie.”
“Hey!” Jisung snaps, feeling offended. He isn’t even sure why. That’s exactly what he said, he gets attached, wants a connection, becomes dependent. Which is exactly what he doesn’t want to be anymore. He wants to be able to get his work done during the day without losing focus thinking about why someone doesn’t want him anymore, someone he doesn’t even want either. He wants to be able to go to a party with his friends without feeling self-conscious because someone didn’t want to come with him. He wants to be able to go to sleep at night without having to scroll for three hours on his phone hoping someone will text asking to spend the night with him. He wants to not be moping around in old jammies and snack wrappers just because he doesn’t have someone to snuggle him after work.
Chan’s giving him that are you really going to argue? look, waiting for a follow-up. Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “No, yeah, you’re right. I gotta learn to self sooth.”
Chan grimaces. “Yeah, that does sound wrong, now that I hear it coming from you.”
Jisung whacks him with his sweater paw again.
Changbin suddenly shoots backward, chair wheels skidding across the floor as he spins to face the other two. “Well, then, if we’re now entering Jisung’s single era, we should celebrate! Have the crew over for a party.” He rubs his hands together like an evil mastermind ready to do crimes.
Jisung perks up, happy for an excuse that isn’t his to get a buzz on. They both turn to Chan who’s head drops onto the back of the chair. “Binnie, it’s Wednesday. We’re not having a party on a Wednesday.”
“It’ll also give him a reason to clean up and put some real clothes on,” Changbin adds, gesturing up and down at the state of Jisung. Jisung wants to be offended but he wants to get drunk with his friends more so he rolls with it.
Chan looks at Jisung with a look that says he’s considering that might actually be a good point, but inevitably shakes his head. “How about we just plan on Friday?”
Jisung and Changbin exchange mischievous looks. They both scoot their chairs closer, little micro scoots, inch by inch by inch, closer and closer. Chan watches them, head darting to one then the other. “Guys. No. C’mon, it’s Wedneday.” He can’t help the laughing, as much as he tries to stay serious and hold his resolve. They continue creeping closer, scoot scoot scoot, puppy dog eyes and pouted lips aimed at their fragile victim. Chan’s laughs come out full force now as he tries to bat them away, now surrounding him and caging him in his chair, the back against his desk. “No, guys, c’mon, be for real!” When they start tandem whining in unsynchronized fluctuating pitches, Chan loses the room and gives in.
Minho straightens, running a hand through his mussed-up locks, sweat dripping down his face. His chest heaves as he takes a few breaths, steadying himself, his blood still pumping. “How do you feel?” he asks, a cocky grin spreading across his face.
“Feels good,” one of the women responds weakly between panting breaths.
“My whole body is sore,” says another, bent over on the floor. “But worth it,” she adds with a smile up at Minho. He nods back at her, feeling a little proud of how well she kept up today.
“Nnggh.” The new guy rolls over and sprawls out on his back in front of him. Shit, Minho can’t remember his name. He did surprisingly well, very flexible. He definitely stretched out before they started. “Looking forward to next time,” he says, holding his hand out to give Minho a thumbs up.
Minho winks at him. “Glad you joined us, today. You did pretty well keeping up with my girls.”
The man looks away and Minho could swear he sees a blush before he ducks his face. The man groans as he flexes his core to sit up, and Minho can’t help but admire the outline of his abs through his sweat-drenched shirt. When the man looks back up, Minho flashes him a grin. He’s used to people wanting him, and if it gets them to keep coming, he might as well use his charms.
Minho reaches out a hand to help the man up, who takes it with his own pretty smile. Now face-to-face with Minho, he looks flustered again for a brief moment before clearing his throat and backing up a half step. “I was actually wondering,” he says, instinctually reaching up and scratching through his damp, slicked back hair, “could you show me that move you did with your hips?”
Minho suppresses a giggle because, honestly, the guy is cute. “Yeah, you mean this one?” He steps closer to the man and turns so he can monitor them both in the mirror, then spreads his feet, squatting down slightly, and fans his arms out as his feet shift back and forth.
He nods and tries to repeat the steps but his hips aren’t quite matching what Minho’s are doing. Minho turns to face him, asks him to go again. He does but seems a bit stiffer now. So, he definitely has a thing for Minho. Minho circles him to stand behind him, doing the steps with him again so he can watch Minho in the mirror. He’s blushing. Minho tells him to take a second while he grabs a drink, an excuse so the man doesn’t see Minho crack a smile he couldn’t hold back anymore.
Not that it would ever happen, Minho doesn’t fuck around with his students. Bad for business and a rule they all agreed on when they opened the studio. Sometimes Minho wants to turn people away just so he isn’t tempted, or so he can make a move without breaking the rule. But they get so few guys in here he made it his own personal rule never to turn a man away for a quick fuck. Just not worth it. He lets out a long sigh, resigned to enjoying flustering the man for as long as he attends Minho’s classes.
He grabs his water bottle, takes a couple gulps, and turns to watch the man, still practicing in the mirror. He’s not a lost cause by any means, but he’s neglected his hips like most men. He sets the water bottle down and crosses back towards him.
“We’ll have to stop here for today, but I think you’ll just need to work on your hip mobility.” Minho approaches him from behind, watching him in the mirror. It’s like he can see the man start sweating again and Minho looks down to hide the grin trying to break out. Only thing worse than him being so damn irresistible is that he can’t even be cool about it. He gets a kick out of torturing them, but then ends up making himself flustered when it works.
“I’m gonna touch you, if that’s okay?” Minho raises his hands to either side of the man’s hips, eyeing him again in the mirror, waiting for his response.
The man’s eyes flinch wider for a split second and Minho, the picture of professional, pretends he doesn’t notice. “Uh- yeah, that’s fine.” The man remembers his physical existence outside of the mirror and looks down at Minho’s hands before looking over his shoulder at the man in real life.
From this angle, Minho can see his post-workout flush hasn’t dimmed in the slightest. He flashes him another quick smile before nodding back toward the mirror and resting his hands on the man’s hips.
“I want you to do some hip stretches to get these looser and better at responding to what you want them to do.” Minho coaxes his hips into a figure eight, helping him keep his balance and feel the distribution of his weight. “Do these for a few minutes before you start dancing or any other type of exercise.” He now leads him into a four-point rotation going in one direction, then the other. “I can tell you’re flexible, so add this to whatever other stretches you're doing.”
Minho checks on the man’s attention in the mirror. His eyes are fixed on Minho’s hands and slightly glazed over. Shit, he’s gotta let up or the guy’s gonna be too afraid to come back.
Minho lets his hips slide back into a neutral position and pats his sides. “You should also look up the frog position and incorporate that, as well.”
The man looks up and Minho could swear a flash of disappointment crosses his face before his eyebrows furrow slightly. “Frog? What’s that?”
Minho looks up at the clock hanging above the door, definitely not dodging the very strong likelihood he’s about to ask Minho to show him. He pats him on the shoulder as he nonchalantly steers him towards the exit into the hall. “It’s like a yoga move, helps open things up.”
The man’s eyebrows shoot up, and Minho again pretends he can’t read him like a book. Shit, what was his name?
“See you Friday, Seonsaengnim! It was nice meeting you, Seonghwa.”
“Have a good night, Seonsaengnim! Bye, Seonghwa.”
The two girls, Yeji and Ryujin, wave excitedly at Minho and the man, Seonghwa. Minho gives them a genuine, grateful smile and waves back.
Seongwha waves to them and turns to back out the door himself. “Thank you, Seonsaengnim,” he says sweetly, bowing to Minho. Minho returns the bow. He really is adorable. “I’ll work on my hips and try to learn the rest of the dance before Friday.”
Minho nods and smiles again. “I look forward to seeing you back in class.”
The pink that had been fading returns to Seonghwa’s cheeks before he bows again, waves, and ducks out the door.
Minho finally lets himself laugh as he crosses the room to grab his duffle bag, feeling his cheeks flush and his ears get warm. The man, Seonghwa, thank you Yeji, is extremely attractive. Stunning, even. Blessed, most definitely. Surprising to Minho that a man that pretty would get flustered over him.
The two women used to get flustered around him, too, but they’ve been coming together since the beginning and always giggled about him pretty openly with each other before and after class. Minho pretended not to notice, which was obvious, and they would have to have known that or he’s seriously misjudged their intelligence. They eventually calmed down enough after a few weeks and are now able to talk to him in whole sentences without falling into a fit of giggles and teasing each other. He really loves his job.
From the hall, Minho hears a series of muffled slaps, a high-pitched whistling squeal, and a groan from whoever’s being assaulted. Minho rolls his eyes and throws the strap of his bag over his head. “I’m throwing out the rule!” he hears from one of the approaching men, likely the assailant.
“You say that every time you see a pretty face,” the victim scoffs.
“Did you see that Adonis, though?” the assailant grunts as he rounds the corner and comes into the studio.
“The only Adonis in this building is you, gorgeous,” Minho says as he struts toward the two.
Hyunjin blushes and bats his eyes. “You’re just saying that cuz you want in my pants.”
Minho shrugs and walks past him, hand flinging out to slap his butt as he passes. “Obviously.” He looks up at his angel’s face, basking in his ever-radiant glow, and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “How’s my fourth kitten doing, today?”
Felix rolls his eyes but his face splits into a smile brighter than the sun. “Can’t complain.”
“He got up to gold today,” Hyunjin loudly whispers in Minho’s ear.
Minho gasps, turning to look at Felix properly as if he just invented water. “Gold?” he says mockingly.
Felix reaches past Minho to slap at Hyunjin, who dramatically grabs his arm in false agony. “It’s not that big of a deal!” he sneers at both of them.
Hyunjin, recovering from his faux injury, whispers again, “he hasn’t shut up about it all day, it’s a big deal.”
Felix ducks out from Minho’s arm and gives Hyunjin a warning glare of approximately 0.08 seconds before the ferret, eyes wide even as a smile splits across his face, turns and bolts across the gym, Felix hot on his heels. “Don’t let me catch you, Hyunjin!” he shouts, leaping over and dodging around obstacles.
“Or what, you’ll tickle me?” Hyunjin teases, weasling around stacks of chairs and mats and baskets of used towels, laughing with pure joy.
The shorter firecracker stops in front of the wiley ferret, both crouched and ready to pounce, leering at each other with sinister grins. “Oh, when I get my hands on you, it’s not gonna tickle,” he says devilishly.
Hyunjin cocks one eyebrow, goading him on. “Sounds sexy, I can’t wait.”
Felix makes to pounce, Hyunjin’s head tilting to the side in anticipation, and Minho clears his throat. Frozen and panting, they both turn their attention to him, still standing by the door.
“Sorry to interrupt. Were you two about to fuck? Right here on my studio floor?” Hyunjin and Felix exchange looks, giggle, then straighten up. “I’m all for watching,” Minho continues with a smirk, “but three-racha just texted the chat. Party at their place.”
“Yes!” Hyunjin exclaims, fist-pumping the air.
Felix hops over the small pile of mats between them and punches Hyunjin’s arm before heading back across the room to Minho, Hyunjin falling in behind him like a leashed puppy. “Party on a Wednesday? Did they say why?”
Minho shrugs and turns his screen to face them. They both lean in, cheek-to-cheek, to read the chat messages.
[chan change your name]
binnie: partyyyyyy everyone bring yo sexy asses over here!
meongmeong: Wednesday my guy, I got morning classes
foxy: same….but yes
meongmeong: but no
j.one: seungminnie cmon do it for mee~ ^^
meongmeong: why would I do anything for you?
j.one: TT
meongmeong: maybe if you beg
j.one: damn that’s hot
meongmeong: nvm
j.one: please :’)
binnie: pleeeease
j.one: pleeeeeeease
binnie: pleeeeeeeeeease
foxy: pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease
meongmeong: Jeongin you traitor
foxy: *shrugs in idgaf
meongmeong: fine i’m in
foxy: y party?
binnie: hannie is entering his single girl era
binnie: must initiate him properly
foxy: i support
j.one: BRING ME CAKE
“Shit, I gotta hurry and go bake a cake,” Felix says, grabbing Hyunjin’s arm and dragging him toward the hall. He abruptly stops, Hyunjin tumbling forward past him, and turns to wave to Minho. “We’ll see you over there?”
Chuckling at the adorableness that is Felix Lee when he gets excited, Minho smiles and waves back. “Yeah, just gonna get cleaned up and I’ll head over.”
They say their goodbyes and Felix and Hyunjin head out. Minho checks back through the messages in the group chat, then taps j.one, going to their private messages.
[quokka]
minho: single girl era, huh?
minho: initiation party? hope it involves a couch and a camera ;)
minho: fr tho, you good?
Minho slides the cover of the lock pad up and punches in the door code. With a little jingle, he opens the door and goes in. He toes off his shoes and swings his duffle into the entry closet. He can hear the hair dryer running in the bathroom as he pads across the living room towards his bedroom.
His bedroom is pretty simple, modern, dark tones, some old movie posters in cheap poster frames spaced out on the walls. There’s a TV that almost never gets used on the dresser and his laptop on the desk in the corner. But the most prized artifacts in Minho’s room are curled up in a pile on the bed.
Pausing at the door to slide his phone out of his pocket, silently and stealthily creeping forward, he holds the phone up and pulls up the camera. He tries to angle it so he can get all three faces in frame when Soonie starts to move. Minho freezes, hoping he settles back into his spot without disturbing the other two. He holds the camera still, waiting, afraid to move and risk being caught. They never let him take a good picture of them. Then suddenly, Soonie’s head tilts back, her mouth opens wide, and she lets out a big yawn followed by a tiny squeak. And he got it! Sliding the phone back into his pocket, he pounces on them, the cuteness aggression taking over.
He rolls his face in their fur and they meow agitatedly at him as he coos at them. “Who’s daddy’s little babies? You are,” peck for Soonie, “you are,” peck for Doongie, “and you are!” Big peck for Dori. One by one, they scramble to get out of his grasp as he continues nuzzling and peppering them with kisses. Once Dori has managed to get free from his grasp, he sighs and flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.
His butt cheek vibrates. And it vibrates again. He arches his back to get to his phone as it vibrates a third time.
[quokka]
quokka: you wish
quokka: ya, just wanna drink and act up about it
quokka: u comin?
He’s so tempted. He maybe even writes a few things out before deciding against it and smashing delete. Jisung is going through a breakup and Minho can be mindful.
Cutesy.
Demure.
Dammit, he hates this trend.
[quokka]
minho: for you? always
Fuck.
Minho decides he can try being mindful tomorrow. Tonight, he has to help his best friend get over a breakup with a guy that wasn’t even satisfying him in bed anymore, anyway.
Minho slaps himself for that one cause damn. He loves Jisung and gets that he’s a serial monogamist who struggles with being alone. It’s not his place to say how someone should get over a breakup, even if it had been doomed for months and everyone else saw it coming.
Minho slaps himself again. Get it the fuck together, girl. He rummages through his drawers, finds something that’ll make him feel sexy, and heads out to the bathroom.
Knock knock knock
“What?”
Minho, setting his little pile of clothes aside, kneels down, positioning himself on his knees in front of the bathroom door. He clasps his hands out in front of him and shouts through the wood, “please, Master Seungmin, I beg of you! Won’t you let me in so that I may freshen up before the party?”
The door clicks and slowly swings inward. Seungmin glares down at the man on the floor.
“What? I thought this is what you’re into now,” Minho says seductively.
Seungmin smirks down at him. “I could show you what I’m into but I’m afraid you’d be traumatized.”
Minho’s eyes blow wide, fully stunned, as he raises to his feet. “Damn! Puppy’s got bite!” He looks the man up and down then nods in approval. “I think living with me is really paying off.”
Seungmin shoves him and laughs, then turns to grab some things off the counter before turning it over. “You can have the bathroom, but promise me I’ll never have to see you on your knees again,” Seungmin says, cringing with his whole body.
“I can’t make any promises,” Minho says with all seriousness.
“I’m moving out as soon as I graduate.” Seungmin trudges toward his room, sighing dramatically.
“C’mon. It’s not that bad. Free room and board and you get to see all of this whenever you want,” he says, striking a sexy pose and gesturing down his body.
Seungmin shields his eyes. “I don’t want, that’s the problem!”
Minho pouts out his bottom lip, sulking childishly. “Ouch. That hurts my feelings, Seungminnie.”
A slipper that was a moment ago in Seungmin’s pile of bathroom supplies zips past Minho’s head, who just barely dodges it, and wetly slaps against the wall behind him. Minho turns to see a dark splatter at the level of his face.
“The fuck?”
Seungmin nearly drops the pile from doubling over laughing.
Minho narrows his eyes and wiggles a finger at him. “You scary, Kim Seungmin. You know that?”
Catching his breath, Seungmin straightens up, his eyes still crinkling in the corners. “I mean, maybe living with you has been paying off.”
Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. Group policy is typically if Seungmin gives you a compliment, it doesn’t matter what it’s about, you take it. It’s too rare, too priceless, and must be treasured. He cocks his head to the side with an apprehensive smile. “Thank…you?”
Seungmin laughs again and disappears into his room while Minho grabs his pile of party outfit off the floor and sets it on the counter. “How are classes going?”
A door closes and Seungmin reappears in his doorway. “Good. I think it’s going really well. Still adjusting to being back but I’m getting there.”
Minho crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. “That’s good. Let me know if you need help with anything.”
“You’ve done enough. And thank you for-.”
Minho makes a retching sound like he just smelled something rancid and waves his hands at Seungmin, signaling him to stop talking.
Seungmin laughs, nodding his head. “Right, got it.” He takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “So, party on a Wednesday.”
Minho nods. “The damsel is distressing.”
“What?”
Minho laughs under his breath, mentally slapping himself again. “Nothing, I’m being an ass.”
“What’s new?” Seungmin tosses over his shoulder as he crosses to the kitchen.
“Ya! That’s not very nice.”
Seungmin’s back is turned as he starts to rummage through the fridge, but Minho can hear him chuckling. “Jisung’s the damsel, I assume?”
“Do you know anyone else entering their single girl era?” He uses air quotes for emphasis and does not mean to roll his eyes so hard.
Seungmin turns back around with some containers of leftovers, grabbing a plate from the cabinet. “It’s about time, honestly. Has that boy ever been single for more than a week? Do you want some?” he asks, gesturing to the food with a fork.
“Not since I met him,” Minho replies. “Yeah, sure.”
Seungmin gives him a pointed look that makes Minho blink before he pulls out another plate. “Why do you think he’s distressing, though? Sounds like he’s getting over it.”
Minho wanders forward and perches on the back of the sofa. “Cause it’s Jisung.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows twitch up and he looks off to the side like he’s thinking some things loudly but restraining himself from saying them. “Okay, and he just went through a breakup. Why do we have a problem with him distressing?”
“It was hardly even a relationship. What is there to be distressed over losing?”
“Coming from the antiromantic,” Seungmin scoffs as he turns to put the first plate into the microwave.
“I’m not-,” Minho starts, stopping himself to furrow his eyebrows. He looks at Suengmin, then down, then back up. “I’m not antiromantic.” Seungmin laughs under his breath. “I’m not! I just don’t see the point in all the feelings if it’s not the one.”
Seungmin really laughs now, leaning on his hands against the counter. “Of course you wouldn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Minho queries, his face bunched in confusion, unsure if he’s being insulted and should be offended.
Seungmin opens his mouth but pauses, closes it, looks off to the side, and starts again, clearly pivoting from what he was about to say. With an even tone like he’s explaining something fairly simple to a dumbass, Seungmin says, “Some people like the warm and fuzzies even when they know it’s not going to work out.”
Minho’s head rears back. “That’s stupid.”
Seungmin nods. “Yeah, it kind of is,” he agrees.
“That’s just hurting yourself,” Minho says incredulously.
“But for that time, it feels good.” Seugnmin shrugs. The timer on the microwave goes off and he switches one plate with another.
“But then when it inevitably ends, you shouldn’t even be hurt.” Minho looks dumbstruck.
Seugnmin sighs in exasperation. “It’s the same with people who hookup just to have sex, even if it’s bad.”
“Cannot relate,” Minho says solemnly, shaking his head.
Seungmin chokes up a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure you can’t.” Minho winks at him and he rolls his eyes. “But they still want it. So to make the wanting stop, they go get it, right?”
Minho’s brows scrunch together even closer as he shrugs. “I guess.”
“Even if the relationship isn’t great, the feelings aren’t really there, and the sex is lacking, for some people, it beats the feeling of wanting and not having.”
Minho’s eyebrows soften, his eyes rapidly blinking as he processes. He thinks Seungmin may be a genius or something.
“Are you gonna eat first or shower first?” he asks, gesturing to the steaming reheated plate of food.
“Shit.” Minho bounces up off the couch and jogs to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
“Alrighty, then.” Seungmin pulls the plate closer and digs in.
[quokka]
minho: [image.jpg]
quokka: omg my babies are so cuuuuuuute <3
minho: ^^
Jisung spins and hurtles himself toward the sink, eyes watering, retching and dry heaving.
Changbin laughs maniacally.
Chan sniffs the empty cup Jisung passed to him, then coughs and throws an arm across his nose for protection. “That is foul, Binnie!”
“Fuck you!” Jisung wails, the sound reverberating from the basin.
Changbin chuckles even louder, an evil grin splitting his face. “You said you wanted to pregame.” He takes the cup from Chan. “You want one, too?”
Chan’s eyes widen, darting to the youngest straightening with a pained expression. “Fuck no.”
Changbin pauses with the cup pointed toward him. Jisung is panting, recollecting himself and his insides. They stare at him waiting.
Chan shrugs. “Yeah, gimme one.”
“Alright, lessgo!” Changbin turns back to the island littered with half-filled bottles of all different types of alcohol and gets to work.
A series of beeps come from the entry, followed by a short jingle and clicking, and the front door opening.
“The prince is here!” a sing-song voice calls out.
Changbin stops mid-pour, face brightening with a smile. “Hyunnie, I’m making you a drink!” he shouts. Chan, fully affronted, smacks his arm. Changbin laughs and grabs a second plastic cup. “I’m about to make you a drink,” he amends.
Jisung pushes off the counter, bouncing around the corner to greet the newcomers. “Felix, baby! I missed you!” He slips across the floor in his fresh socks, sliding right into Felix’s open arms.
“Good thing I put the cake down,” Felix laughs into the crook of his neck.
“Did you say cake?” Jisung whispers into his hair.
Felix nods and Jisung hugs him tighter, making Felix groan. Then suddenly he’s being lifted and bounced. Felix giggles, wrapping his arms tighter around his neck. “Okay, okay, you’re welcome!” Jisung sets him back down then twirls him around before finally releasing him, both men radiating pure joy.
“It’s nothing special, just baked it with what we had at home after work, but it is cake.” He bends down to grab the handles of a tote bag and hands it to Jisung.
“Then it’s perfect! Thank you, baby,” he says affectionately, looping a finger through Felix’s jeans to pull him closer, pecking him on the cheek.
Felix blushes and returns the favor as the door beeps again behind them.
Minho and Seungmin enter, look at the scene in front of them, and Seungmin turns to Minho. “Someone beat you to the damsel.”
Minho backhands Seungmin’s upper arm and Seungmin’s mouth pops open in a silent scream, grasping his bicep. Minho turns back to them with a plastered on smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes.
Jisung and Felix both look at them, eyebrows furrowed, heads cocked to the side, like the twins that they are.
Minho steps forward, ruffling Felix’s hair affectionately. “I smell cake and booze.”
“The cake is me,” Felix says, pointing at the bag in Jisung’s hand.
“The booze is me,” Jisung says, using his free hand to check his breath and grimacing at the results.
“The Seungmin is me,” Seungmin says, raising his hand, “and if Seungmin has to be here, Seungmin wants the booze.” He toes off his shoes and waltzes through them straight for the kitchen.
Before the rest of them can follow, the door lock goes off again and the door opens.
Without hesitation, Minho dips down. Jeongin’s eyes go wide. “Not again!” he whines, followed quickly by giggling as he’s lifted into the air.
Jisung and Felix laugh, watching the spectacle.
“Hyung, put me down!”
Minho bucks Jeongin higher up on his back, wrapping his legs around his torso. “Maknae has arrived! Now it’s time to party!” He trots off for the kitchen, Jeongin bouncing and laughing the whole way.
Felix nudges Jisung. Jisung blinks and his eyes refocus. Was he staring that hard? He looks at Felix. Felix smiles at him a little too suggestively. “I’m sure if you asked he’d give you one, too,” he says with a twitch of his eyebrow and a wink.
Jisung nudges him back. “Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes and drags Felix to the kitchen to join everyone else.
When they enter, Hyunjin’s spitting something into the sink and Changbin and Chan are cracking up. Poor Hyunjin, Jisung thinks, laughing to himself.
He takes the cake box out of the tote and opens it, adding it to the mostly-alcoholic collection of refreshments. Someone pulls out a fork and they all take turns passing it around, taking bites, as they continue picking out bottles of variously colored liquids for Changbin to mix into near-poisonous cocktails.
After a while, everyone has a drink in their hands and at least a few shots of something in their system, the cake has been half picked off, and everyone is in a good mood. Jisung is feeling floaty and it’s making him feel a lot better. Only thing that could make it better is cuddles, he thinks, smiling to himself. Shit, no. He shakes himself mentally. He can go without cuddles. He’s a strong independent woman and he don’t need a man! But he needs to distract himself then from Felix and Changbin tickling each other because it’s just not fair.
“Let’s play a game!” he shouts over everybody, raising a neglected red cup filled with liquid death they all decided was beyond OSHA regulations.
Hyunjin immediately perks up, Jisung’s party rock. He’s always down for anything and Jisung loves him for it. “What game?” he asks excitedly.
“Never have I ever?” Changbin suggests with an evil smirk. He’s always down for getting people in trouble.
Felix immediately starts bouncing like a hyper bunny. “Yas, oh my god, I love that game!”
Hyunjin laughs at him adoringly, nodding in agreement.
Seungmin and Jeongin exchange looks as if debating how much they want to go to their classes tomorrow. After a brief silent conversation passes between them, they both agree to join.
Chan picks up his glass and looks to Minho on his right. “What say you, auntie? Since it’s always down to us two.” He nudges him with his elbow and holds his cup out.
Minho looks to Jisung, who’s beaming at him hopefully. A quiet laugh bubbles up in Minho’s chest and his lips quirk up. He sticks his cup out to “clink” with Chan’s. “You’re goin’ down tonight, old man.”
Everyone migrates to the living room, claiming seats on the sofa, the recliner, the old bean bag chair, and after a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors, Changbin ends up with the cushion on the floor. Chan took the recliner, Jeongin and Felix share the bean bag, and the rest are smushed on the sofa. Jisung sets his freshly filled cup on the coffee table and squeezes in between Minho and Seungmin.
“Who’s going first?” Felix asks the room.
“Let baby bread start us off,” Hyunjin coos. Everyone chimes in with agreement.
Jeongin cringes at being called the baby, even though everyone knows he loves it. It doesn’t do anything to make him any less cute.
“Never have I ever been pegged in the back of a car in the parking lot of a public park.”
That might do it.
“During the day,” he adds with a smirk.
The entire room erupts. Everyone is roaring.
“What the actual hell Jeongin?”
“That’s where we’re starting?”
“I feel attacked.” Everyone bursts out laughing as Chan takes a drink. He lowers his cup and looks around the room expectantly. “What, nobody else? Just me?”
Jisung, gripping his sides from laughing so hard, replies, “we wouldn’t wanna take that title from you, buddy.”
Chan throws him the bird and gestures to Felix. “Next, please. And feel free to take it down a notch or several.”
Felix narrows his eyes, licks his lips, and looks at Jeongin. After whatever silent conversation they’re having now, Felix looks around smugly. “Never have I ever unintentionally hooked up with my professor’s son.”
Another uproar and Jisung is jabbing his elbow into Minho’s ribs, trying not to burst out laughing. Minho points at Felix with slitted eyes, then raises it to cross his throat, promising his future demise. Felix just winks and sends him an air kiss.
Jisung shifts forward and grabs Minho's drink to hand it back to him. Minho glares at him.
“I didn’t say it!” Jisung whines, holding his hands up for mercy.
Minho takes his sip and hands it back to Jisung, who sets it back down. Minho leans back, resting his arm on the back and sighing. “My turn?” He has an evil smirk and Jisung feels a rush of anticipation course through him.
“Bring it down, please,” Seungmin pleads from the other side of Jisung.
Minho blinks for a moment then leans forward to look at him. “Did Seungmin just beg?” he asks incredulously.
“I heard it, too,” Jeongin whispers in astonishment.
“Sounded like begging to me,” Chan says with raised eyebrows.
Hyunjin leans back against the arm of the sofa to look at him in bewilderment. “Kim Seungmin, what has gotten into you?”
Seungmin rolls his eyes as hard as he can. “I just want to drink so I can keep putting up with all of you.”
“Aw, poor minnie-,” Changbin starts.
“Never have I ever masturbated.”
There’s a pause in the room as everyone processes, then collectively look at Minho.
Minho shrugs with a cocky grin. “He begged, I had to oblige.”
Seungmin laughs, bringing his cup to his lips. “Fuck you,” he says affectionately before taking his drink.
Everyone else breaks into hysterics and raises their cups, Jisung passing Minho’s back to him again.
Jisung takes a drink, noticing the alcohol starting to make him giddy and giggly, feeling more bold and wreckless and sinister.
“Meh heh heh heh,” Jisung cackles mischievously. The others turn to him, amused and waiting. “Never have I ever been in love with my best friend.”
Everyone “ooooohhhh”s and ducks their head, each looking in a different direction around the room, trying not to laugh.
Everyone except Chan, who’s mouth is a thin line, staring up at the ceiling, and Jisung who’s watching him with a smug look on his face. “You gotta drink, Chan.”
Changbin spits, choking out a laugh. “Brutal.”
Chan lowers his head and stares straight at Jisung, straight through him, as he slowly brings the cup to his lips and takes a drink.
Jisung puckers his lips and winks at him suggestively.
“Just so we’re clear,” he says cooly, lowering his cup, “I had a crush on you four years ago. I’m over your punk ass now.”
“You love my punk ass.”
Chan scoffs, looking through Jisung again with a smirk on his lips. Then he turns to Seungmin with feigned enthusiasm. “Who are you taking a jab at?”
Seungmin smiles. “I’m going after Changbin.”
Changbin straightens up across the table. “What? Why me? Stick to those two sluts,” he whines, gesturing between Chan and Minho.
Jisung laughs, looking back at Minho. He sees Minho still has his cup and tries to take it from him but before he can, Minho’s other hand latches onto his shoulder and yanks him back, tucking him into his side.
Jisung giggles, looking up at him under his lashes. Minho looks down and smiles at him softly. Jisung wiggles into a comfortable pocket, leaning his head against the side of his chest and tucking his feet up under him.
Fuck, this feels good. Fuck not needing cuddles. It’s not his fault, he didn’t ask. He wasn’t needy. This was Minho. He’s still an independent woman, but he’s not about to turn down cuddles from his bestie when they’re forced on him.
The party carries on and they keep going around, everyone getting hit and getting more drunk. Fortunately-unfortunately, they’ve played this enough times that they all know how to get someone to drink if they’ve gone too long without. The cups are closing in on empty which means it’s close to time to decide who tonight’s loser is going to be.
Jisung stopped keeping track of who said what a while ago. He’s so far gone and the room spins when he closes his eyes. He’s not sure where the pillow went and whatever he’s sitting on is not the couch. It’s lumpy. And firm. His butt is falling asleep. He tries to remember where he’s sitting but all he can think is sofa. It’s definitely not the sofa. Right?
He looks behind himself to check. Oh, it’s Minho! Minho smiles up at him cheerfully, eyes squinting and nose scrunching. Cute! Jisung is overcome. He leans back and squeezes the man’s cheeks between his hands.
“You can’t smile like that, you look like a fucking bunny. You’re so goddamn cute!”
Minho bursts out laughing, cupping Jisung’s hands. “And you are so goddamn drunk.”
Jisung hears other people laughing to his left. Changbin is on the bean bag chair and Hyunjin’s legs are draped over his lap. “At least he’s not sulking.”
That’s a weird thing to say. Why would he be sulking? He tries sulking, pouting out his lip, hunching over, to see how it feels. He sees his feet, propped up on the sofa, which do not have socks on them. Where did his socks go? He wiggles his toes. Toes are funny. He bursts out laughing, what a stupid thing to think. Toes. He laughs harder.
Jisung feels something heavy around his waist getting tighter, pulling him closer to something. It feels good. Oh, it’s Minho again. It’s Minho’s chest. It’s a firm chest. He should put his hands down. Jisung looks at him and smiles. Damn, he’s pretty. Jisung slips down a little, making himself more comfortable and bringing himself level with Minho’s face. Cause shit, he’s pretty.
“It’s about time to get him to bed.”
Is that Chan? Yeah, it’s gotta be dad. That was such a dad thing to say. Jisung pouts, sloppily shaking his head back and forth, whining in protest. He feels Minho’s chest shake as he laughs. When did he close his eyes?
“And separate the soulmates?”
Hyunjin. Jisung’s rock. Hyunjin gets it. Jisung pumps his fist in the air in agreement. People laugh which makes him smile, feeling warm.
“Okay, I got one,” someone says from the other end of the sofa. Jisung opens his eyes, willing the fog to dissipate enough for him to rejoin the game. He sits up straight again, feeling a hand raise up to his back. He looks back to find Minho watching him. Minho smiles. Jisung can’t help the cuteness aggression that strikes him again. He ruffles Minho’s hair, whose smile gets wider, giggling, letting Jisung do what he wants.
“Never have I ever,” Seungmin starts, “been caught by my entire class wearing a vibrating butt plug.”
Jisung’s eyes pop wide open now, a modicum of sobriety washing over him as he scans the room. He’s drunk, very drunk, he knows recall is fuckery at the moment, but he genuinely doesn’t think he knows who this could be about. His eyes dart between each of them, who are also looking around questioningly.
“Wait! Who did that?” Felix asks, sitting up in the recliner.
“Kim Seungmin, I’m never telling you anything again.”
Jisung’s hand flies up to his mouth. The room takes a collective inhale, too stunned to speak.
Raising from the floor, grabbing a pair of sunglasses off the coffee table and slipping them on, Jeongin smugly says, “you all can call me Daddy Toast from now on.”
Pandemonium erupts as everyone raises their arms to bow to him, congratulating and cheering him on as he downs the last of his cup. He upends the cup over his head triumphantly before tossing it across the room to skitter across the floor.
Jisung grips his sides, sore from laughing too hard again.
“Jeongin-ah!” Felix yanks Jeongin into his lap. “Our big loser! I never thought we’d see the day. He’s gotten so big and naughty,” he coos, pinching his cheeks.
“We’ve corrupted him well,” Hyunjin says, wiping fake tears from his eyes.
“I don’t know that Jeongin was the loser, though,” Changbin chimes in, staring into his cup with a sly grin.
Hyunjin whacks his arm. “Let him have this one.”
Changbin pokes Hyunjin’s side causing him to fold over in giggles. “Oh, he’s still the winner for tonight, big boy blew us all away!” he says, winking at Jeongin. Daddy Toast nods approval, still wearing his sunglasses and perched comfortably on his Felix throne.
“Yeah, Jeongin wins, but he wasn’t the real loser, was he?” Chan asks from the floor next to Hyunjin, eyeing Jisung with a cocked eyebrow.
Jisung tilts his head, eyebrows scrunched. What did he do? Wait. Not him. He turns and looks at Minho questioningly. Turns back. “Minho? What did Minho do?”
“Didn’t do,” Changbin corrects.
“Hannie didn’t either,” Seungmin adds, kicking at one of Jisung’s feet.
“Didn’t what?” Jisung asks, head spinning again.
“Hannie wouldn’t think like that, he’s going through a breakup,” Hyunjin says with a motherly tone.
“You guys are way off base, anyway. Jeongin lost fair and square.”
Jisung’s head whips around at hearing Minho speak up. He’s so confused. He pouts, his eyebrows furrowed. Minho looks down at him, his face turning worried.
Changbin laughs. “That’s literally why Keeho broke up with him.”
Minho’s head snaps up. “Stop.”
“What!?” Jisung turns so fast his whole body twists and the floor-