Work Text:
Han Jisung doesn’t date. Don’t waste your time.
I heard he has erectile dysfunction.
He’s weird.
Never seen that dude with a hickie.
I’m gonna break him.
Why do they care?
Minho really doesn’t get it. He kind of feels bad for the guy. Always being talked about like he’s a lab experiment. A conquest. Something to be broken into. Trespassing is a crime, don’t they know?
Minho heard all that shit against his will, you know? Apparently, everyone wants a piece of Han Jisung. Always talking about him like he just came out of a documentary, some sort of newly discovered animal they have no information on, elusive. Minho is so tired of these people, way too nosy. Way too gossipy. He just wants to focus on nailing this latte art.
He doesn’t even know who Han Jisung is.
He doesn’t even care. He doesn’t care about people. He’s actually tired of them.
He slides the latte over the counter as he calls out a random name. A guy walks up to him and gives him an once over. Great. Minho bares his teeth at him, but he only smirks. One, two…
“Can I have your number?”
Exhibit A. Minho doesn’t care about people because they always, always want to get in his pants.
“Do you like your arms?” Minho asks.
“Yeah.” The guy flexes. Bile rises up Minho’s throat.
“Go away and you can keep them.” Minho smiles sweetly, like a dagger dripping with strawberry jam. He cracks his fingers.
The guy grabs his coffee and scurries away. Good.
Minho leans on his hands against the counter and hangs his head. He heaves a sigh. He needs to stop contemplating murder during work hours. He needs to be friendly, nice, maybe customer service was a bad idea.
He looks at Hyunjin, who’s side-eyeing him as he rings an order.
“I’m taking five,” Minho says.
Hyunjin waves him off and Minho stalks to the back. He sits on the floor in front of the bags of coffee grains and takes out his vape pen from the pocket of his apron. He brings it to his mouth and sucks on it. It tastes burnt. Great.
He stares at the pen in his hands. He needs to buy a pack of cigarettes.
“You okay?” he hears Hyunjin ask. His voice is close. Minho lifts his eyes and sees Hyunjin leaning against the doorframe with a cup of Iced Americano in his hand.
“Need a pack of cigarettes,” Minho says, lifting his pen. “It burned.”
“Shit.” Hyunjin purses his lips. Eyes Minho for a second before saying, “I can cover for you.”
“You’re my favourite,” Minho says as he jumps to his feet. He walks up to Hyunjin and Hyunjin hands him the cup. Minho takes it and brings the straw to his mouth, he chews on it for a second before taking a sip. His entire body relaxes when it goes easily down his throat, soothing the burn of bile.
“I’m your only,” Hyunjin quips and goes back to work.
Yeah, he is, isn’t he? It’s not like Minho can stand anyone who isn’t Hyunjin for more than five seconds. Not willingly, anyway.
Minho rips off his apron and folds it as he walks to his locker. He opens it and stashes it inside before grabbing his wallet and his phone. He shoves them in his pockets and makes his way back to the cafe. He walks around the counter and leaves, his fingertips aching for something to fiddle with, gums itching for something to chew on.
The closest convenience store is a five minute walk from the cafe. Minho grabs the hem of his shirt and bites on the straw of his coffee as he drags his feet over the pavement. Listening to the scrape of his shoes against it.
He’s so tired. He can’t quit, though. Not when he’s saving up for a tattoo gun. He doesn’t even go to that university, he doesn’t go to any university at all. Didn’t really see the point of suffering through academic hell when he knew he’d never get the accommodations he deserved. He was also too scared to ask for them, not that he ever would, considering he never applied in the first place.
Hyunjin hooked him up with that barista job last year. And, since he started, all people seem to talk about is Han Jisung. He doesn’t understand the obsession, really. He doesn’t quite get the need for gossip. He takes what people give him. Keeps everything to himself, he doesn’t think people’s lives should be discussed when they’re not present to tell him themselves. He doesn’t get people, and he stopped faking interest a long time ago.
He can see the outline of the convenience store when he lifts his eyes from his shoes. His left shoe is scuffed. He probably needs a new pair of sneakers, but he doesn’t want to go through the hassle of breaking them in. His own pair does its job, and it’s comfortable. He’ll get a new pair when the soles detach themselves from them.
He walks up to the door, pushes it open with his shoulder and takes a deep breath. It smells like stale ramyeon inside, and cheese, a hint of burnt sausage. It cleanses him of the smell of coffee. Makes him a little more centred. Maybe he should get some ramyeon, he hasn’t had lunch yet. He nods to himself and makes his way to the ramyeon aisle, trips on some feet. Wait. He crashes to the floor with a grunt and flips whoever is laughing off. God.
He pushes himself to a sitting position, blowing his fringe out of his eyes.
“Sorry about that,” someone says and Minho squints at the hooded figure on the floor next to him. They’re sitting with their legs drawn to their chest against the shelves of ramyeon. Minho squints harder. He can see a face in there. Round cheeks, glinting eyes.
“Huh?” he asks. Very smart.
The figure huffs, sliding their hood down and Minho almost swallows his tongue. He’s never seen such an intriguing face before. Wide doe eyes, no sharp angles. He looks soft, with round cheeks and a heart shaped mouth. Minho tucks a strand of long hair behind his ear and blinks.
“Sorry for making you trip on my feet.” He smiles, cheeks getting rounder. His voice is deep, honey-like, just like his skin. He’s pretty. Minho isn’t used to finding people pretty. “I forgot I’m not the only one who comes here at this time.”
“It’s fine,” Minho says, scrunching up his nose and rubbing his arm.
“What’s your name?” The guy asks.
“Minho,” Minho offers. Clears his throat. “Lee Minho.”
“Nice to meet you, Lee Minho.” The guy smiles. “I’m Han Jisung.”
“Do you have erectile dysfunction?” Minho finds himself blurting out. Oh god. Why would he say that?
Jisung barks out a laugh. “So you’ve heard about me, huh?”
“Sorry,” Minho says. “No brain to mouth filter.”
“Dope,” Jisung says. “I suffer with the same disorder, and, no, my dick works just fine. I just don’t see the point in using it.”
“Oh,” Minho says. “That’s interesting.”
“People seem to think it’s strange.” Jisung rubs his nose. “That’s why I’m the talk of the town, apparently. The guy who doesn’t pull out. The guy who doesn’t date. Weird guy who doesn’t seem to find anyone worthy of his time. I bet you’ve heard some buff guys saying they want to break me. Maybe you’ve heard something I haven’t yet.”
“That pretty much covers it, to be honest,” Minho says. “They don’t seem that keen on creativity.”
“Well.” Jisung squints an eye. “I don’t know why they’re so obsessed with me. I’m just… a dude. I’m not even conventionally attractive.”
“That’s not true,” Minho argues. “You’re pretty.”
“Eh.” Jisung makes a so-so gesture with his hand. “There’s more interesting people on campus. They’re wasting their time trying to crack me open like a nut. I don’t even entertain them, that’s why I’m here.”
“Hiding?” Minho asks.
Jisung just smiles at him. “What brings you here?”
“My vape burned,” Minho says. “So I’m buying a pack of cigarettes.”
“In the ramyeon aisle?”
“I need to have lunch,” Minho explains.
“Same,” Jisung says. “Wanna grab some ramyeon and talk about the oppression omegas face in the workforce?”
Minho squints. “Are you flirting with me?”
Jisung rolls his eyes. “I don’t wanna sleep with you, Minho. But I take it you’re used to people only talking to you to get in your pants. Can relate, but you can rest assured that’s the last thing on my mind.”
“Huh,” Minho says. “That’s a first.”
“I bet,” Jisung says. “So?”
“Sure.” Minho nods.
Jisung jumps to his feet and offers his hand to Minho. He wiggles his fingers until Minho takes it and hauls him up. He doesn’t look that strong, but Minho guesses his hoodie does a good job at cover-up. It’s pretty big and it hangs off his frame like a weighted blanket.
“You’re strong,” Minho points out.
“Perks of having a personal trainer as a best friend.” Jisung grins and lets go of Minho’s hand. He turns to the shelves and grabs a cup of Shin ramyeon.
“Not into spicy food?” Minho asks when Jisung makes a face as he grabs a pack of buldak.
“Don’t understand you people,” Jisung says. “That shit makes me break out severely, I’m just a baby.”
Minho smirks and walks to the counter. “Too bad.” He grabs a styrofoam bowl from the stack and places it in front of him. Jisung grabs the electric kettle and fills it with two water bottles he produced out of nowhere.
Minho watches.
They take up a table by the back of the convenience store. Minho sits in front of Jisung and blows over his bowl as he grabs his chopsticks and pulls them apart.
Jisung’s cheeks are bulging from a bite too big for his small mouth.
“You look like a squirrel,” Minho says.
Jisung snorts, chewing his food aggressively. He’s cute. In a kind of disgusting way.
Jisung swallows. His Adam’s apple is shaped like a heart. Like his mouth. He’s heart shaped, Minho guesses as he looks at him.
“You’re not curious?”
Minho brings some ramyeon to his mouth. Chews. Swallows. “About what?”
“The reason I don’t have sex with people,” Jisung explains.
“Not really my business.” Minho shrugs.
“I’m asexual,” Jisung says. “I’m only telling you because you didn’t ask. People always ask. It’s refreshing to know someone who doesn’t pry the moment I tell them who I am.”
“I don’t really care about people that much,” Minho says. “Don’t understand the need to talk about them when they’re not there to defend themselves. I mean, I don’t care for gossip. Never did. That’s probably why I only have one friend.”
“Mm,” Jisung hums, drumming his chopsticks against the lip of his cup. “I have, like, five close friends, but they don’t go to uni. I’m considering dropping out and taking my roommate up on his offer to join him at the tattoo shop.”
“You an artist or a piercer?”
“Artist,” Jisung says. “I mean, I used to be. Haven’t picked up a pencil in a while. I miss it, though.”
“Huh,” Minho says. “I’m saving up for a tattoo gun.”
“For real?” Jisung asks, eyebrows raising. “I can talk to Jeongin, if you want. He has some spare ones at home.”
Minho squints. “Do you have nefarious intentions?”
“Yes,” Jisung says, nodding seriously. “I want your hand in marriage.”
“I thought you were asexual,” Minho says.
Jisung barks out a loud laugh. His spit reaches Minho’s face. Minho blinks, wiping his cheek with his hand. Cute, in a very disgusting way.
“You don’t know a joke when you see one?” Jisung asks. “Besides, me being asexual doesn’t mean I can’t get married. Contrary to popular belief, there’s more to a relationship than just sex.”
“I mean, porn culture is alive and well.”
“Porn addiction is a serious condition.” Jisung nods. “An orgasm isn’t even that nice. Toe curling? Sure, but, I swear to god, why would people be so obsessed with something that lasts only five minutes? Bingeing anime is more fulfilling than having a dick up my ass. Or being balls deep in someone. Tried that once, it felt too stifling, why was it so tight? I developed claustrophobia when I lost my virginity.”
Minho lets out a startled laugh. “You’re so peculiar. In a very refreshing way.”
“It’s probably the autism,” Jisung says.
“Ah.” Minho nods. “Explained why we clicked. Birds of a feather.”
Jisung perks up. “You’re autistic?”
“Did me not picking up on your joke indication enough?”
“Actually, not really.” Jisung shakes his head. “My jokes don’t land that often.”
Minho nods solemnly. “Yeah, they need some workshopping.”
Jisung pouts. “You don’t think I’m funny?”
Minho smirks.
Jisung kicks his shin under the table, making him snicker. Jisung whines and tosses one of his chopsticks in Minho’s face. Minho bursts out laughing.
“Forget about my offer,” Jisung huffs. “You’re so mean.”
“No!” Minho shouts through giggles. “Let’s get married!”
Jisung crosses his arms and pouts aggressively. He squints at Minho. “I don’t want to marry you.”
Minho blinks prettily at him. “Why not? I’m pretty.”
“Being pretty is irrelevant when you have no manners.”
“Yah!” Minho kicks him. Jisung breaks into a smile. “I have manners!”
“Sure.” Jisung nods seriously. “I can see that.”
“How old are you, by the way?”
“Twenty four,” Jisung says.
“And I have no manners,” Minho scoffs. “You’re treating me like shit when I’m your hyung!”
“I didn’t know that!” Jisung yells, arms flailing so hard his chair tips over and he goes down with a yelp. The laugh that rips out of Minho’s throat is so loud it echoes in the empty convenience store. He doubles over, choking on his own saliva and coughing as he laughs. There’s a stitch in his side. He doesn’t even want to smoke anymore.
Jisung lets out a pathetic little sound and Minho hiccups. He can’t stop laughing.
“Stop laughing!” Jisung whines from the floor. He lets out a groan. “Shit, I hit my elbow so hard I think I broke it.”
Minho giggles.
Jisung gets to his feet and picks his chair from the floor. He’s glaring at Minho. He’s so, so cute. Minho wants to cannibalise him a little.
Jisung takes a seat and drops his forehead on the table, some soup specks hitting him in the face when he jostles his cup of ramyeon. “That was embarrassing.”
“That was cute, actually,” Minho says, taking a deep, stuttering breath. “Wish I could’ve recorded it.”
Jisung sobs. Minho pats his head.
Jisung lifts his head and pouts. His hair is all over the place. Minho itches.
Minho takes his phone from his pocket and goes to his camera app. He takes a picture of Jisung.
Jisung’s eyes widen. “Did you just take a picture of me?”
“Contact pic,” he offers, tapping out of the app and going to his contacts. He sets Jisung’s picture and taps in squirrel boy 🐿️ before handing it to Jisung. Jisung is staring at him like he’s Cerberus. Last time he checked, he was more like a cat than a three headed dog.
He shakes his phone when Jisung shows no indication of taking it. “Come on, give me your number.”
Jisung squints. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Me?” Minho points to himself with wide eyes. “Flirting with my fiancé? How scandalous.”
Jisung rolls his eyes but grabs Minho’s phone. “I rescinded my proposal.”
“No take backs, darling,” Minho sings. “If you take it back you’re a coward.”
Jisung huffs as he types. “Here.” He gives Minho his phone back. “I need to head back to campus.”
“Finish your ramyeon first,” Minho says, grabbing his own chopsticks.
Jisung pouts. “It’s cold.”
“Consuming cold food builds character,” Minho argues and brings some noodles to his mouth.
Jisung rolls his eyes but goes back to eating.
When they’re done, they walk out of the convenience store together.
“Weren’t you gonna buy cigarettes?” Jisung asks as they start making their way back to campus.
“Don’t feel like smoking anymore,” Minho says and bumps their shoulders together.
Jisung presses his shoulder to Minho’s. “Good, that shit can kill you.”
Minho smiles and pokes Jisung in the ribs, making him let out a sound akin to a dying whale. Minho giggles to himself.
“You look chipper,” Hyunjin comments when Minho walks out of the breakroom as he ties his apron.
“Met Jisung,” Minho says.
Hyunjin raises his eyebrows. “Han Jisung? He actually exists?”
Minho barks out a laugh. “Apparently he’s not just a disembodied entity this campus has an obsession with.”
“Huh,” Hyunjin says. “Is he cute?”
“In a very disgusting way,” Minho says with a nod.
Hyunjin snorts. “Did he try to get in your pants?”
“Nah.” Minho slides his hair tie from his wrist and ties his hair into a ponytail. “He’s asexual.”
“Oh!” Hyunjin claps his hands. “Perfect for you!”
Minho makes a face. “I’m not asexual.”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes and pats Minho’s shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Minho frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When was the last time you actually enjoyed having sex, hyung?”
“Uh, never?” Minho says. “I don’t see the point in it, really. Too uncomfortable. An orgasm isn’t even worth the hassle.”
Hyunjin makes a face.
Oh. “Oh,” Minho breathes out. “I just thought I hadn’t found the right person.”
“Maybe,” Hyunjin says. “Or maybe Han Jisung is the right person. Someone who won’t force you into something that makes you uncomfortable. You look happy, you never look happy during work hours. Food for thought!” he chirps, pinching Minho’s nose.
Minho swats at his buzzed head and Hyunjin giggles.
Someone clears their throat.
“Hello!” Hyunjin greets, sauntering to the register. Back to his customer service voice. “What can I get you?”
Is Minho asexual? Guess he has a conversation starter with Jisung now. Not now, though. He still has some coffees to make, unfortunately.
Minho is brushing his hair in the shower when it hits him. He was never too keen on sex. He thought he was a late bloomer, didn’t really get it when his classmates were talking about losing their virginity in lulls during lunch break in high school. The composition of fungal growth was more interesting than the size of someone’s dick to him.
He thought it was because he was gay and straight sex wasn’t his ball game. But, even when he lost his virginity at twenty one, he still didn’t understand the hype. But people would always say first times always suck, you should try again. Then you’ll understand. The moment you find a good partner, it clicks into place.
His first partner was good. Or so Minho thought. He did all the right things, hit all the right spots, but it felt so… weird. Detached. Minho wasn’t into it.
He tried more. Tried different kinds of men. Different kinds of positions. He tried everything but it never clicked.
Now that he thinks about it, Minho doesn’t even remember if he was ever horny. Like random boners would happen, of course. He can get hard with the right stimulation. But he’s never really felt like pouncing on people, never really felt like using his dick, even when he was hard.
Sexual attraction has always been foreign to him. Naked people don’t evoke anything in him, he doesn’t “thirst” over people. They’re just… people. Bodies. Stomachs are pretty enough, but they don’t make him feral. Nipples are kind of funny. Bellybuttons, though. He likes them. For some reason. But it isn’t sexual, they’re just cute.
People are just cute. Not sexy. Not whatever horny adjectives people use to describe them. He’s never gotten it. Not when Hyunjin would go on rants about the guys he sleeps with. Not when he saw a sex scene during a movie. Not when he was having sex. He tried to get it, he really did. He thought there was something really wrong with him for a while there.
It’ll never click for him, he realises. And it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s a relief, really.
He can finally stop trying now.
He smiles to himself and washes off the conditioner from his hair. He finishes his shower with that smile still glued to his face.
He cuddles up to Dori after he puts on his pyjamas. Dori lets out a trilling sound and headbutts his hand as he pets him. He brings his phone to his face, sitting with his back against the pillows and starting a thread with Jisung. Dori makes himself comfortable on his stomach.
me
How did you find out you were asexual?
squirrel boy 🐿️
21 questions?
no fair i wanted to go first
me
You didn’t have my number
squirrel boy 🐿️
[Selfie of Jisung pouting with his fringe in his eyes]
me
Compelling argument
Answer the question
squirrel boy 🐿️
waa waa
well
i don’t really have an answer
just didn’t think sex was all that interesting
so my best friend was like “maybe ur asexual”
and i was like huh
turns out it made sense
i didn’t like sex
didn’t really get horny
didn’t understand the hype
my psychiatrist thought it was my antidepressants
pulled me off them for a while
nothing really changed
i only turned into a cry baby
but i wasn’t numb anymore
and i still wasn’t horny
so… it wasn’t like a big revelation tbh
some people were like “maybe u haven’t found the right person”
but tbh SO WHAT WHY DO U EVEN CARE
SEX ISN’T ALL THAT STOP BOTHERING ME
anyway☝🏻🤓
me
I think I’m asexual
Like
It hit me in the shower I don’t find people hot or sexy etc
I don’t want to have sex with them
I just thought I HAD to because people overestimate this type of thing
Think you’re weird if you’re not getting your dick wet for some reason
I honestly don’t understand why people care so much about other people’s sex lives
It doesn’t make any sense
What are they getting out of knowing?
squirrel boy 🐿️
beats me
guess they like to live vicariously thru other people
i don’t get it either
so many other interesting things to talk about and they want to talk about how big and girthy a dick is
who CARES
anyway
did u know kurapika in portuguese can be translated to heals dick or like dick cure
i was thinking about that in the shower
uk what’s funny
i don’t like sex but making sex jokes is funny
bc i’m not the target audience
ironic
i love that
it surprises people sometimes
when they Know
i don’t go around saying i’m ace tho
i’m dark and mysterious
me
Do you make a lot of dick jokes?
squirrel boy 🐿️
fuck around and Find Out Baybeeeeeeee
or maybe not fuck around
considering
me
Ha ha
Wait
You speak portuguese?
squirrel boy 🐿️
eu tento
me
What the hell
I don’t know what you just said
squirrel boy 🐿️
giggle
i said i try
my cousin moved there
and she’s been teaching me some words
especially cuss words
love that shit
FILHA DA PUTA!!!!!!!!!!
me
Did you just cuss at me
AT YOUR HYUNG?
squirrel boy 🐿️
😝😝😝😝😝😝😝😝😝😝😝😝😝
wait ny wrist hurts
can i call?
me
Is that an excuse to hear my voice
squirrel boy 🐿️
i actually want to have phone sex
me
I’m making a face at you right now
You think you’re adorable don’t you
Call me then
His phone starts ringing the moment Jisung reads his message.
“Do I need to prepare myself psychologically for your sex jokes?” he asks when he accepts the call. He puts it on speaker and places his phone on his chest.
“Who said it was a joke?” Jisung asks, tone amused. “What are you wearing?”
Minho barks out a laugh. “Your skin.”
“How did you manage to skin me without me noticing?” Jisung asks. “That explains why I feel so exposed now. No flesh to cover me up. You took my innocence, how dare you? What if I was saving myself for marriage?”
Minho smiles to himself. “It was pretty easy. I sedated you, because I’m not an animal. And skinned you with a blunt knife. Your skin is actually so cosy. Thank you, kind sir.”
“A blunt knife?” Jisung asks, shocked. “Why would you make it more difficult than it needs to be?”
“I like a challenge,” Minho says, scratching Dori behind the ears. He purrs. Loudly.
“Wait,” Jisung says. “Is that a cat?”
Jisung disconnects the call. His phone starts ringing. He picks it up and laughs. Jisung is FaceTiming him.
He accepts it and Jisung’s face comes into view.
“Show me the kitty,” Jisung demands, his eyes wide and excited.
Minho grins and flips the camera. He points it to Dori. Dori squints at him.
“So cute,” Jisung coos. “You’re so pretty, hi. What’s your name?”
“That’s Dori,” Minho says. “He’s sleepy.”
“I asked him, not you.”
Minho laughs. “Dori doesn’t talk to strangers, he’s shy.”
“Are you calling me a stranger? After I bought you ramyeon and gave you a sexuality crisis?”
Minho rolls his eyes. “You didn’t give me a sexuality crisis. My best friend did.”
“Oh?”
“He asked me when was the last time I actually enjoyed sex,” Minho offers. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Jisung this, maybe because he’s the only one he knows who can really get it. Hyunjin must get it too, considering he was adamant on Minho being asexual. But he doesn’t get it, in the way an actual asexual person would.
“What did you say?”
“Never. I said I’ve never enjoyed it,” Minho says. “Didn’t see the point in it. That it was too uncomfortable. An orgasm isn’t even worth the hassle.”
“Mm,” Jisung hums. “And you thought you couldn’t be because maybe you just haven’t found the right person?”
“Are you in my walls?” Minho asks.
“Fondling them as we speak,” Jisung sings.
Minho stifles a laugh.
“Lemme see your face,” Jisung says. “I wanna see if there’s any traces of laughter on it.”
“No,” Minho says.
“Come onnnn,” Jisung whines, jutting out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes. “Let me see your face, hyung.”
Minho flips it back to his front camera. Glares at it.
“I can see faint laugh lines around your eyes,” Jisung says. “Made you laugh.”
“Or maybe I’m just old,” Minho says.
“Mm, I don’t think you told me your age.”
Minho fakes a yawn. “Yawn,” he says. “Look at the time. Goodnight.”
Minho disconnects the call in the middle of Jisung’s hyuuuuuuu. He locks his phone and laughs when it starts buzzing. If lights up to several notifications from squirrel boy 🐿️.
He unlocks his phone.
squirrel boy 🐿️
U HUNG UP ON ME
ON UR OWN FIANCE
HOW DARE U
UR SO EVIL
TELL ME UR AGE
TELL ME UR AGE
TELL ME UR AGE
I WONT STOP BOTHERING U UNTIL U DO
TELL ME UR AGE
TELL ME UR AGE
me
God. FINE.
I’m twenty six
Goodnight.
squirrel boy 🐿️
wasn’t so hard was it?
me
Goodnight.
Minho plugs his phone and places it on his nightstand. He claps and snuggles into his blanket. He falls asleep with a smile on his face. Disgusting.
Minho is completing a crossword puzzle against the counter when a hand enters his field of vision. He straightens up and fakes a smile, which turns more genuine when he registers Jisung’s face.
“Good morning, handsome,” Jisung purrs, leaning into the counter.
“Are you stalking me?”
“I don’t kiss and tell,” Jisung bats his eyelashes.
“Do you kiss at all?”
“Yes, actually,” Jisung grins. “Only vaguely sexual activity I’m partial to. I enjoy it, even.”
“Do you now?”
“Makeout sessions are my specialty.” Jisung winks.
Minho looks over Jisung’s shoulder and sees everyone in the cafe watching them. Oh boy.
“You’re aware everyone is staring at you, right?”
“I can feel their eyes burning a brand on my back,” Jisung grins. “I’m used to it. Love me some attention.”
“Attention whore?”
“Only whore I can be,” Jisung quips.
Minho laughs. “Can I get you anything?”
“Iced Americano, please.”
“Coming right up,” Minho knocks his knuckle against the counter. “Don’t even think about it,” he says when Jisung grabs his wallet.
“What?”
“On the house,” Minho says. “For the ramyeon.”
“Nice,” Jisung says, pocketing his wallet. “I’ll never refuse free anything.”
Minho grins. “Good.”
He slides Jisung’s coffee towards him when he’s done. Jisung hasn’t moved from the counter this whole time.
“Not gonna take a seat?”
“And get stared down to death without some close-up eye candy?” Jisung asks. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m eye candy?”
“Objectively.” Jisung nods. “Subjectively, you have a nice bone structure.”
“Isn’t that still objective?”
“No, I feel some type of way about it,” Jisung says. “You’re nice to look at. Aesthetically pleasing.”
Minho snorts. “Okay, whatever you say.”
“You said I’m pretty yesterday,” Jisung points out.
“Your point?”
“We have eyes,” Jisung says. “Just because we don’t want to have sex with people doesn’t mean we automatically think they’re all unattractive. I think you’re attractive and I kinda want to kiss you.”
Minho chokes.
“I mean, only if you said yes,” Jisung says. “Maybe you’re the type of asexual person who doesn’t do kissing.”
“I mean,” Minho scrunches his nose. He looks at Jisung. His eyes travel to his mouth. He kind of wants to know how they’d shape around his own. What it’d feel like to kiss a heart. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“Sick,” Jisung says. “Wanna come over after your shift?”
“I’d rather you come over,” Minho says. “I need to feed my cats.”
“Cats? Plural?” Jisung perks up. “Awesome, text me your address.” He taps the counter, bringing his straw to his mouth. “See you soon, hyung,” he says with a grin and skips to the exit.
Minho’s world tilts on its axis a bit. Huh.
Hyunjin clocks in a few minutes later and Minho is still having a bit of a crisis.
“You look like you swallowed bleach,” Hyunjin quips.
“I think I have a makeout appointment with Jisung,” Minho says.
“A makeout appointment?” Hyunjin raises a pierced eyebrow. “Huh. That’s interesting. Why do you look scared?”
“Making out usually leads to sex,” Minho says.
Hyunjin huffs out a laugh. “Not really. I make out a lot without having sex. It’s not a prelude to anything if you don’t want it to be. You don’t need to freak out, hyung. You know he isn’t looking to hook up with you.”
“Still,” Minho says. “What if he wants to have sex with me?”
Hyunjin makes a face. “You’re traumatised, aren’t you? Jisung is asexual, hyung. He doesn’t want to have sex with you. Do you want to have sex with him?”
“No,” Minho says.
“Then,” Hyunjin grabs Minho’s face. Squishes his cheeks. “You don’t need to be scared.”
“This is so weird,” Minho says when Hyunjin lets go of his face.
“Weird is nice,” Hyunjin quips, patting his head before making his way to the register. Minho stays glued to his place, squinting at the wall. Okay. Okay.
Jisung stops by the cafe when Minho has just clocked out.
“What are you doing here?” Minho asks, hiking his messenger bag up his shoulder. He fiddles with the strap.
Jisung leans against the counter. “Thought I’d offer you a ride home.”
“How presumptuous of you,” Minho says, his lips twitching.
“You don’t wanna be my passenger princess?” Jisung pouts.
Minho rolls his eyes. Rolls his wrists. “Lead the way.”
Jisung has a New Beetle. Green.
“How fitting,” Minho teases. “You look like a bug.”
“I thought I looked like a squirrel,” Jisung says, opening the passenger door for Minho.
“You do,” Minho says. “You’re a squirrel-bug hybrid.”
Jisung makes a face. “That probably looks horrendous. Are you calling me ugly?”
Minho slides into the passenger seat without answering. Jisung smacks his door closed with a high pitched whine. Minho smiles to himself, sinking into the seat after he buckles his seatbelt.
Jisung gets in the car. Minho can feel his glare on his face as he snaps his door closed. He turns to him and grins.
“So you think I’m ugly,” Jisung pouts. He crosses his arms. Minho wants to eat him. What’s with him wanting to cannibalise Jisung? Cuteness aggression?
“You’re putting words in my mouth.” Minho smiles sweetly at him. “I don’t even know how you came to that conclusion.”
“You called me a squirrel-bug hybrid,” Jisung says, still pouting. “Basic addition isn’t hard.”
“You’re cute,” Minho says, pulling at one of Jisung’s cowlicks. Jisung squeaks, grabbing his wrist and squeezing. Minho snickers.
“You’re so evil,” Jisung says, squinting his eyes.
“I’m gonna need my arm back,” Minho says.
“Why?” Jisung asks.
“Because it’s mine?”
Jisung slides his hand up. Threads their fingers together. A ball of fur gets stuck in Minho’s throat. He fights the urge to hack it up. He’s never held hands with anyone but Hyunjin before. Jisung’s being the second hand he’s ever held makes him feel some type of way.
Jisung looks at their joint hands and hums. “Your hand is pretty small.”
Minho tries to wrench his hand from him, but Jisung tightens his hold.
“Ah, ah,” Jisung chides. “Your hand is mine now, I kidnapped it and I’m gonna condition it to develop Stockholm syndrome.”
Minho gapes. “You probably broke several unspoken rules right now.”
“Eh.” Jisung shrugs, placing their interlocked hands on his thigh. “I’ve never been really good with social etiquette, so.”
Minho laughs despite himself. “Just drive.”
Jisung winks at him and starts the car.
Jisung keeps his hand hostage the whole drive to Minho’s place.
Minho inputs the code with his other hand still interlocked with Jisung’s. It’s a new record for him, holding hands for twenty minutes and counting without wanting to rip off his skin and chew it like a rubber rainbow lego.
Jisung is tapping a random rhythm on the web between Minho’s thumb and index finger. Minho finds it grounding. He’s never found other people’s movements grounding, they usually grind on his nerves. Jisung is proving to be quite the enigma, really a newly discovered animal no one has information on, elusive.
That doesn’t bother Minho, though, it actually triggers his Sherlock Holmes senses. He wants to solve Jisung. He wants to unravel him without taking off his clothes. He wants Jisung to want to be read, and not force him into vulnerability. He wants Jisung to be comfortable, to share whatever he wants, whenever he wants.
He doesn’t want to pry anything from him, information tastes sweeter when it’s shared willingly. It tastes sweeter when it comes from the source. He’s never felt the urge to know someone so viscerally in his life before. It throws him off a little, but he’s starting to realise he kind of likes it.
Jisung is interesting. He’s weird, yes. Endearingly so. He understands why Hyunjin thinks Minho’s own antics are so cute now. Even though he’s loath to admit he can be cute to anyone else.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jisung asks, squeezing his hand. “Or maybe 100k won for your thoughts. They seem expensive.”
Minho side-eyes him. “Do you have 100k won at hand right now?”
“Why?” Jisung blinks prettily at him. “You want to be bribed?”
Minho rolls his eyes, pushing his door open with his foot. “Get in.”
He doesn’t wait for Jisung to move, he walks into his apartment and drags him along by the hand. Kicks his door closed, kicks off his shoes. Jisung does the same. He’s wearing crocs. Green crocs with Pokémon jibbitz.
Everything he’s wearing is green today. Pastel green cardigan with nothing underneath, exposing the handlebars of his clavicles. Interesting shape. Moss and sage green checkered pants. Green, green, green. He’s very… forest-y. Which seems fitting. Jisung makes no yet so much sense at the same time.
“You’re in your head again,” Jisung comments. “Should I up my bid to 200k?”
“You’re willing to lose that much money to understand the inner workings of my brain?”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, no hint of a joke in his tone. Huh.
“Huh,” Minho says. “Let’s feed my cats first.”
“Where are they, by the way?”
“The moment I get the food, you’ll find out.” Minho grins and drags Jisung to the kitchen. He bypasses it and goes straight to his laundry room.
Jisung is quiet next to him.
“You gonna let go of my hand?” Minho asks as he opens the pantry.
“Do you need it?” Jisung asks.
“Yes, actually.”
Jisung whines dramatically but untangles their hands. Minho snorts and grabs the huge tupperware where he keeps their food. He shakes it. One, two… Dori comes barreling into the room, trilling as Doongie follows right behind him. He shakes it again. Soonie peeks his head into the room before stepping carefully into it. He squints at Jisung, who’s staring at the three of them with something akin to awe in his expression.
Jisung coos and crouches down when Dori headbutts his shin.
“Hello, Dori-ssi,” Jisung says. “Remember me?”
Minho snorts. “Dori-ssi.”
“He deserves the utmost respect,” Jisung says seriously as he scratches behind Dori’s ear. “I actually developed a parasocial relationship with him the moment he meowed on call.”
Minho laughs as he scoops some food with the ladle he keeps inside the tupperware. He fills the bowls carefully, laughing when Doongie headbutts his hand away. He replaces the lid and walks back to the pantry, stashing the plastic container back in its place.
“Okay, my job here is done,” he says. “Living room?”
“Living room it is,” Jisung says.
Jisung grabs his hand again.
Minho stares at him.
“Your hand is warm,” Jisung explains.
Minho’s heart does a complicated backflip in his chest.
“Whatever you say,” Minho says and drags Jisung out of the laundry room, biting into his bottom lip to push his smile back to the depths of hell.
Minho deposits Jisung on the couch. He pushes him down on it, rather. And Jisung goes down with a huffy laugh.
“Manhandling me so soon in our relationship,” Jisung sighs dreamily, placing a hand on his forehead. “So big and manly.”
Minho rolls his eyes and settles himself a cushion away from Jisung.
Jisung turns to him, stretching his legs and poking Minho with a socked toe. “You’re too far,” he whines, bottom lip jutting out. His fringe is in his left eye. He looks emo. And cute. The urge to cannibalise him intensifies.
Minho grunts.
Jisung pouts more aggressively.
Minho makes a face. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Can I sit in your lap?” Jisung asks.
Minho’s eyes almost bug out of his face.
“No nefarious intentions,” Jisung says, raising his hands placatingly. “Your thighs are, like, really big. They look comfy. I love being comfy.”
Minho lifts a sceptical eyebrow. “Is that all?”
“For now,” Jisung says.
Minho scoffs. “For now?”
“I want to kiss you in a bit,” Jisung says. “But for now, I just want to test the sturdiness of your thighs.”
“Do you have a crush on me?”
Jisung tilts his head and smiles. “Duh.”
“You barely know me,” Minho argues.
“I might be asexual but I’m not aromantic,” Jisung says. “And you get it, you know? Get me. I yearn for connection and fall extremely easily. You came into my life at the right moment. Yeah, I know. Fate is stupid, but I don’t know? You’re someone I want to get to know, I can’t say that for anyone else.”
“You want to get to know me,” Minho says, chewing the notion. He chews it some more. “I don’t think anyone has ever wanted that, except Hyunjin. But we grew up together and were kind of forced to interact, since our moms are best friends and all.”
“You’re intriguing,” Jisung says, inching closer to him. His knee grazes Minho’s thigh and Minho feels the sudden urge to let out a blood curdling scream. “You’re extremely funny. Very pretty. You don’t think I’m bad weird. You don’t judge me. I know we just met, like, I do. But, I don’t know. I just feel… like… fuck. I’m so bad at this.” He buries his face in his hands. Lets out a drawn out groan. “I like you. Or I’m infatuated with you, and, like, I don’t want to waste any more time. I’ve wasted so much time trying to keep everyone out. I don’t want to keep you out. I want you to keep you in. Shit, that sounded wrong.”
Minho giggles despite himself, despite the lump in his throat.
“Sorry,” Jisung’s hands fall from his face and he winces. “That was a lot.”
“Meow,” Minho says. Jisung giggles nervously. “Sorry, I need around five minutes to digest that.”
Jisung nods, eyes wide. Wet cow eyes. Pretty. “I need to get something from my car. What’s your code?”
“2510,” Minho blurts out.
“You a scorpio?” Jisung asks as he gets off the couch. He places one hand on his hip and tilts his head.
“Triple,” Minho offers.
“And autistic,” Jisung says, nodding seriously. “Good to know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Minho asks, squinting.
Jisung just winks at him and saunters off.
Minho stares at his retreating back.
Okay. So. Jisung wants to date him. If his long-winded rant is anything to go by. Minho draws his knees to his chest. Rolls his wrists. Weighs the pros and cons. The most glaring con is that dating implies vulnerability. Implies communication. Minho is spectacularly bad at both. But… for Jisung? He can see himself trying, can see himself shedding whatever defenses he has up. Because Jisung is honest, and earnest, and sweet. And cute. And Minho wants to eat him.
Minho has never really wanted to date anyone, not really. Even when he was dating. Felt too forced, too unnatural for him. Too scripted. Too sexual, even. His boyfriends would always expect him to touch their dicks, even when Minho was clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
They never really forced him, but their expectations did. Minho was supposed to want to have sex with them. Minho was supposed to make them feel wanted. Because, apparently, the only way you can want someone is by letting them inside you. Or letting you inside them. Minho never really got that. Never really wanted that.
That’s why he broke every cue stick from the dating pool two years ago, so he couldn’t play it. So people couldn’t guilt him into playing it. Not that he’s implying people are manipulative and gaslit him into a relationship. But… it gets to a point.
Jisung, though. He doesn’t expect anything from him. He didn’t even expect an answer, just rolled with it. Let Minho do his thing. Gave him space. No one has ever given him space. They’ve always wanted to get all up in it. Touch him without asking, because apparently consent is only reserved for sex. If you refuse someone’s touch, you’re rejecting them.
Or so it felt like it. When people would call him rude for brushing their touch off, when their smile would fall. Minho doesn’t like to be touched. He only allows Hyunjin to because he’s his best friend and his touch doesn’t sting, doesn’t hurt. He knows how to touch him.
Jisung. Jisung also knows how to touch him. His touch burns, but it burns just right. Minho wants his touch. Wants his hand in his. Wants Jisung. He wants Jisung so bad. But not in any carnal, biblical way. He wants him close. He wants to be with him. Fate might be bullshit, but Minho yearns. He yearns for connection. And Jisung was right. Minho came into his life at the right time, just like Jisung came into his life at the right time.
Minho is also tired of wasting time.
He hears his door beep. Blinks once, twice. Jisung comes into view carrying a box. It’s green, just like the rest of him. Minho is starting to believe Jisung’s skin might be green, like he’s an alien who’s good with a concealer. He laughs to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Jisung asks as he makes his way to Minho’s dining table. He sets the box down and turns to Minho, crossing his arms.
“Is your skin green?”
“When I’m sick, yes.” Jisung nods.
“So you are an alien,” Minho muses.
Jisung grins. “Busted.”
Minho rolls off the couch, his feet thumping against the floor as he makes his way to the dining table. He eyes the box. “What you got there?”
Jisung taps his shoulder before reaching for the box. He pulls the flaps open and gestures for Minho to come closer. Minho inches closer. Peers at the box. There’s another green box inside it, rectangular. Minho makes a noise in the back of his throat.
“You can take it,” Jisung says.
Minho reaches for the box. Sets it on the table and opens it. There’s a tattoo gun inside it. Pink. A Cheyenne Hawk Pen. Minho’s eyes go wide. He looks at Jisung. Jisung is grinning wide at him.
“Jeongin had this one laying around,” Jisung says. “Asked him if I could have it. He said yes, got even excited about it. I told him it was for a friend, and he got even more excited. He wants to meet you, by the way.”
“Yes,” Minho says.
Jisung raises an eyebrow.
“I want to be kept in,” Minho says, inching closer to Jisung and grabbing his face. Jisung’s eyes widen. He stares at Minho. “And I want to keep you in.”
Jisung opens his mouth, but Minho swallows whatever he was going to say with his own. Jisung squeaks, but wraps his arms around Minho’s waist, brings him closer. Their chests bump and Minho laughs against Jisung’s lips. He pulls back. “You’re stuck with me now. Any complaints?”
Jisung shakes his head and leans in, kissing Minho’s top lip. “I’m in your hands,” he whispers.
Minho purrs and pulls back. “Still want to test out the sturdiness of my thighs?” Minho asks.
Jisung nods enthusiastically and Minho laughs, letting go of his face to grab his hand and drag him back to the couch. He takes a seat and Jisung follows, scrambling to climb into his lap. He plants his butt on his thighs and lets out an appreciative noise.
“Nice,” Jisung says. “Good cushioning, stellar even. Ten out of ten. Could live here.”
Minho laughs and pulls him closer. Jisung falls into his chest with a huff.
“Weren’t you gonna kiss me?” Minho asks.
Jisung sits back in his lap. Wraps his arms around his neck as Minho envelops his own around his waist. It’s tiny. So cute. Minho tilts his chin up and Jisung leans down, capturing his lips with his own. No ounce of rush to his movements. He threads his fingers through Minho’s hair and kisses his top lip, his bottom one before prying his lips open.
Minho melts into the couch, letting Jisung lick into his mouth unhurriedly. Minho squeezes his arms around him and tangles their tongues together. This is nice. Jisung isn’t pushy, he gets what Minho gives him, kisses him like he has all the time in the world. Doesn’t get ahead of himself, it feels like he’s savouring it, the taste of Minho on his tongue, swallowing Minho’s purrs slowly. His hands walk down to Minho’s jaw, tilting his head so he can get more of him.
Minho has never been kissed like this before. Like he’s only getting kissed for the sake of kissing. Jisung does it for the love of the game, not because he wants anything out of it. He’s not demanding, he just licks into Minho’s mouth like there’s nothing better he could be doing with his time. Minho feels cherished, appreciated, dare he say loved.
Jisung shifts in his lap and Minho feels something against his thigh. His brain reels when he realises it’s Jisung’s dick. And he’s hard. Fuck. His fight or flight lags. He freezes, goes completely still. Sirens are blasting in his head. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s going to have to do something about it, isn’t he? Jisung might have said he doesn’t feel like doing anything with his dick, but what if he’s lying? What if he’s going to gaslight Minho into touching him? What if–
“Woah,” Jisung says, pulling back. He looks down at Minho. Minho stares wide-eyed at him. Panic rushing like ice water down his entire system. He’s freaking out. “You look like you’re spiralling. Everything okay?”
“You’re hard,” Minho squeaks.
“Ah,” Jisung says. He nods, like he understands. “Right type of stimulation does that. I don’t wanna do anything about it, though. Are you going through the five stages of grief? Wondering if I lied to you this whole time?” Minho makes a pathetic little sound. Jisung’s eyes soften. He brushes Minho’s fringe out of his eyes gently. “I’m not offended, okay? I get it, hyung. But I wouldn’t lie to you to get in your pants. I don’t want to get in your pants. My dick just functions properly. You don’t need to worry about that. I promise.”
Minho bites his bottom lip. Jisung chuckles, pressing a kiss to his hairline. “It’ll go down soon enough,” Jisung says, brushing Minho’s cheek with his thumb. “I can get off your lap if it makes you more comfortable.”
Minho tightens his arms around him. Jisung squeaks like a toy. Minho lets out a breath, tilting his head back against the couch. Jisung runs his fingers over his face, maps out the contours of his nose.
“Wanna cuddle?” Jisung asks after a beat. “Watch something?”
“I just started Hunter x Hunter,” Minho croaks.
Jisung gasps. “You’ve never watched it?”
Minho breathes hard through his nose. “No.”
“We need to change that,” Jisung says, clambering off his lap and grabbing his remote. Minho takes it from him and sets up the TV.
Jisung falls on the couch and scooches forward, leaving space for Minho behind him. Minho lies down, fits his chest to Jisung’s back and wraps his arm around his waist. Jisung turns around in his arms and throws a leg over his hip. Minho drops the remote and grabs his ass. Kneads it.
“You’re an ass man?” Jisung asks.
Minho meets his eyes and purrs. “Mmhm.”
“My ass is yours,” Jisung says.
Minho pinches it and Jisung yelps out a giggle.
“Aren’t you gonna watch the anime?” Minho asks when they’re around five minutes in.
“Mm,” Jisung cuddles closer to him, slinging his arm around his neck and burying his face in his chest. “Comfy.”
Minho laughs and kisses the top of his head. Jisung lets out a trilling sound and bites his chest, making Minho laugh harder. “Ow?”
“Let’s take a nap,” Jisung says.
Minho hums and looks at the screen.
Minho blinks his eyes open when he hears his door beep.
Feet shuffle on the carpet as they come closer.
“Oh,” he hears Hyunjin say.
He squints in his direction.
“Jisung?” Hyunjin asks, pointing at Jisung clinging to Minho like a baby koala in his sleep.
“Mmhmm,” Minho says.
“Are you two dating?” Hyunjin asks.
“Mmhmm,” Minho says.
“Good,” Hyunjin says and makes his way to the kitchen.
He and Jisung have a sort of routine going on. It’s been two weeks since they started dating, and, ever since they agreed they wanted to keep each other in, Jisung has taken upon himself to be Minho’s chauffeur. Taking him home after work every day, their hands tangled together the entire drive to his place, tangled together as they make their way to his apartment. Tangled together as Jisung uses his other one to pet any available cat in his vicinity.
Minho finds it comforting. Having someone so close.
Jisung brought him fake skin and ink two days into their relationship. He’s been giving Minho pointers and watching him tattoo with rapt attention. They always end up making out after it. They end up making out all the time. Jisung still gets hard every time, but Minho only finds it adorable now. How reactive he is. Jisung pouts every time and Minho kisses the pout off his face. Jisung gets hard. Rinse, lather, repeat.
He met Jisung’s friends last week, brought Hyunjin along. Hyunjin took a liking to Jisung’s roommate and they started dating yesterday. It was… something. Jeongin fits seamlessly into their lives. Just like Chan and Changbin and Seungmin and Felix. They all took Minho in like he was supposed to be one of theirs the whole time. Minho has never felt more welcome in his entire life.
He doesn’t even overthink it too much. Doesn’t expect the other shoe to drop.
He’s finally at ease.
“100k for your thoughts?” Jisung asks, their legs tangled together in Jisung’s bed.
“I love you,” Minho blurts out.
Jisung’s eyes widen.
“I mean,” Minho says, scrunching his nose. “That wasn’t what I was thinking, but it isn’t any less true.”
“Hold that thought,” Jisung says, untangling himself from Minho and rolling off his bed. Minho’s heart thumps in his chest. Jisung comes back a moment later, sliding back into bed and sitting in front of Minho. He’s holding a measuring tape.
“Give me your hand,” Jisung says.
Minho gives him his hand, watches Jisung wrap the tape around his middle finger with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
“What are you doing?” Minho asks.
Jisung just grins at him. “You’ll see.”
“I come bearing gifts!” Jisung announces as he steps into Minho’s apartment one saturday.
Minho is in the kitchen dicing chicken into cubes. “In the kitchen.”
He hears Jisung running in his direction and grunts when he pounces on him. They go down to the floor, the knife skittering all the way under the counter.
“Good evening?” Minho says.
Jisung rolls Minho on his back and climbs into his lap. Minho sits up and raises an eyebrow.
“Give me your left hand,” Jisung says as he sticks his hand in his pocket. He produces a black ring out of it.
Minho frowns but gives him his hand. Jisung slides the ring into his middle finger. He has a matching one on his left hand. Minho watches him with a big question mark on his face.
“Asexuality rings,” Jisung offers, tangling their fingers together. “Also, promise rings, if you want.”
Minho smiles and brings him into a kiss by the back of his neck. “I want.”
Jisung smiles against his lips. “Good. Love you.”
Minho screams. Jisung kisses him until he’s laughing.
Han Jisung isn’t interesting anymore.
He’s dating some guy, did you hear?
He’s weird.
He’s dating but still doesn’t have a hickie.
I still want to break him.
Why do they care?
If he has to keep listening to these people talk shit about Jisung, he’s going to prison for mass murder.
He quits his job five minutes later and takes Jeongin up on his offer so he never has to hear anyone gossiping about his boyfriend ever again.
He still doesn’t get the need for gossip.