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Boyfriends.
The word still sends a rush of butterflies through his entire nervous system… closely followed by a small swarm of noisy mosquitos.
He should be happy. And he is.
Jisung makes him laugh like nobody else, makes him feel safe in a way he didn’t even know he needed and he couldn’t imagine calling anyone else his best friend, his soulmate and now also his boyfriend. This is everything he ever wanted.
He’s happy. He’s so very happy to call Jisung his boyfriend.
But most of all, he’s nervous. Nervous in a way that’s bone-deep, almost electric, like his body can’t quite decide whether to thrill or freeze at the thought.
But then again, it’s his first relationship. His first boyfriend. His first everything actually.
So, it should be okay to feel this way, right? To be jittery, maybe even a little scared?
It’s normal to be nervous about new things. Everyone’s nervous about new things. Hell, he even remembers how nervous and anxious Jisung was when he went on a first date with a new guy a few years back. At least that’s what Minho’s been telling himself over and over again for the past two weeks, ever since Jisung asked him to be his boyfriend.
The scene has been playing back in his mind more often than he’d like to admit, no matter how much he tries to brush it off as something casual. It was during one of their many movie nights, the end credits of the second movie had just started rolling across the screen. Minho, already half-asleep from the warmth of Jisung’s hoodie and the weight of the blanket they were sharing, had let himself further melt against Jisung’s chest with his head comfortably resting there.
He had blinked up at Jisung, sluggish and soft and Jisung had blinked back, his eyes just as fond but at the same time there was something unreadable. Minho doesn’t know what it was about that particular moment, maybe it was the domestic atmosphere, the rhythmic heartbeat against his ear or the gentle buzz of the TV in the background. Maybe they’d been dancing around this moment for weeks or months, just waiting for one of them to be brave enough to speak.
Either way, it didn’t really matter, not when two seconds later Jisung had swallowed audible and then, with his voice barely above a whisper, asked “Do you... want to be my boyfriend?”
Just like that.
To outsiders, the question might have seemed sudden but both boys knew they’d been dancing around it for months now. It was there in the way their hands lingered just a second too long when they passed snacks during late-night dramas. It was in the way their laughter felt warmer when they were together, the way they shared inside jokes with a joy that only deepened with time. It was in the quiet moments too, the comfortable silences, the way they’d glance at each other and smile for no particular reason. Nothing had happened yet, of course. Both boys had been too shy to push past the unspoken boundary between best friends and something more. Until now.
The words hung in the air, trembling and uncertain and Minho had sworn that the entire world stopped spinning. For a split second, it was just the two of them, the rest of the universe falling away as Jisung stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes and his own cheeks tinged a soft pink.
Jisung had swallowed again but he hadn’t looked away. Instead, he kept his gaze carefully focused on Minho, if it wasn’t for the nervous fidgeting of his fingers with one of his grey hoodie strings and his quick heartbeat right under Minho’s head, you would believe that it was just another ordinary question.
“You don’t have to answer right now,” he had added quickly, his voice still just as soft but now tinged with something vulnerable, “I just... I thought you should know how I feel. That I - I want this. If you want it too.”
Minho’s heart had stuttered in his chest, his breath catching somewhere in his throat with a quiet hiccup. Jisung had always had the talent to be bold, to blurt out the most unexpected things in the most random moments. But looking back at it, it probably wasn’t all that unexpected.
Nevertheless, Minho had found himself quickly blinking up at Jisung, his mouth opening and closing one, two, three times and then unable to hold Jisung’s steady gaze for any longer, his own embarrassment blooming hot across his face, he had ducked his head and pressed his burning face into Jisung’s hoodie, biting his lip and nodded shyly in the soft fabric.
“Yes,” Minho had whispered, the word so small it was barely audible against the fabric of the hoodie, “I - I want that too.”
This was it. This was the moment Minho had thought and dreamt about way too often in the past. He didn’t even need to think twice, he knew he loves Jisung. Knew that Jisung is the most important person in his entire world. Still, he never imagined that his dream of Jisung feeling the same way would come true on a random Tuesday evening.
After he had nodded his answer in Jisung’s hoodie, Minho felt how the boy’s arms tightened around his torso, followed by an audible gasp breaking the quiet of the room. And when Minho felt brave enough to look back up, surely still with an embarrassingly flushed face, he was met with the purest expression of relief and joy on Jisung’s face.
The way Jisung’s arms had tightened around him in that moment, followed by a rushed kiss right on the top of his head and shortly after on his forehead, made his chest ache, the feeling both euphoric and something he couldn’t quite name.
That ache hasn’t gone away since.
~~~~
The thing is, Minho wants to be a good boyfriend. That thought has been his constant companion ever since Jisung’s arms wrapped around him that night on the couch.
But now, two weeks into their relationship, he finds himself staring at the ceiling late at night, his chest tight with a feeling he can’t quite name. Is it fear? Doubt? Guilt?
Jisung deserves someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who’s confident, someone who can match his flirty energy and someone who doesn’t act like a silly teenager whenever their faces get too close, shying away from the expected touch of their lips. Someone who isn’t so obviously… inexperienced.
But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Because in a way, Minho is exactly that. A silly, clueless teenager trapped in an adult body, who has no idea how to act, what to expect or even how to feel.
How is a good boyfriend supposed to act? What is expected of him?
No scratch that.
What does Jisung expect from him?
Because surely, now that their friendship has grown into an actual partnership there must be new expectations, new requirements, right?
Is he supposed to hug Jisung tighter when they see each other?
Should he add a heart emoji to the squirrel one in Jisung’s contact name?
Is he supposed to kiss him hello? But they haven’t kissed yet, so wouldn’t that be too casual? Too sudden?
Should he have kissed Jisung back on the couch two weeks ago when Jisung asked him to be his boyfriend? Probably. Because boyfriends are supposed to kiss…
So, there it is. His first mistake… but can you actually do a relationship the wrong way?
Minho sighs, frustrated with himself more than ever. He had expected the nervousness. He’s never been anyone’s boyfriend before, never kissed anyone, never even thought seriously about what dating might mean. He was prepared for awkwardness and uncertainty. What he hadn’t prepared for was how the nerves would only grow stronger and how being around Jisung now would make his chest flutter and his thoughts spiral in a way that wasn’t only giddy excitement about having a person he loves finally so close to him.
It wasn’t like this before. Back when they were just best friends, everything felt so easy. So what changed?
It’s thoughts like these that keep him awake late into the night, long after reading the sweet goodnight message Jisung sent him. He rereads it three, maybe four times, smiling faintly at the string of emojis Jisung always adds at the end. But now, instead of writing a silly quick message back he finds himself typing and deleting his response over and over, agonizing over every word. Should he add one heart or two at the end? Would a simple “Goodnight, Jisungie” feel too plain? Should he add something more? Something like… “I love you”?
But no. That’s a milestone, a big one, Minho knows at least that much. It’s something you’re supposed to say in person, when the timing is perfect, with some grand romantic gesture to make it special. At least, that’s what all the movies say.
Still, it’s the only thing Minho knows with absolute certainty. He loves Jisung. More than anything in the world.
And yet, somehow, even that feels like something he might mess up.
~~~~
Things shouldn’t have changed just because they put a different label on their relationship. But there’s no denying the fact that at least for Minho, things have changed. Drastically.
The question of what is expected of him never quite leaving his mind.
While Jisung seems as relaxed as ever in their new relationship, Minho finds himself overthinking every tiny gesture, every action. What once felt natural and easy between them now feels loaded, as if every moment carries the weight of what should come next.
When they stand side by side, Minho’s hand itches with the thought that he should hold Jisung’s.
When they cuddle on the couch, he finds himself hyper-aware of the space between them, feeling like he needs to press closer, to close the gap.
And when their faces are close, closer than they ever used to be, Minho’s mind spirals into one inevitable conclusion: that the next step has to be a kiss.
And it scares him.
All the beautiful things they have shared before they became boyfriends, the casual touches, the easy laughter, the moments of quiet comfort, have suddenly become things he is hyper-conscious of. Things he overanalyzes to the point of exhaustion. Well, maybe minus the kissing, they didn’t do that as friends.
The weeks that follow don’t make things easier. If anything, they add fuel to the fire of Minho’s unease.
Every time Jisung leans in a little too close, every time his hand lingers on Minho’s arm for a second too long, Minho feels his stomach flip not with the rush of excitement he thought he should feel, but with a nervous, twisting dread. His heart races but not in the swooping, excited way he’d read about in books or seen in movies. It races with panic, with a sharp-edged discomfort that makes him want to pull back, to shrink away
He tells himself it’s just because everything is new. That anyone in his shoes would feel the same. But no matter how many times he repeats the excuse, a quiet, insistent voice at the back of his mind whispers something far more terrifying: What if this is just who you are? What if there is something wrong with you?
And yet, slowly, so slowly, it does start to get easier.
The first cracks of light come when Minho allows himself to notice the things that haven’t changed.
Jisung is still Jisung.
They still laugh at the same dumb jokes, still share lazy evenings binge-watching their favorite dramas, still eat meals together while joking around. Most importantly, Minho still feels safe and comforted by Jisung’s presence, the way he always has.
It is that sense of safety that finally gives him the courage to say what had been weighing on his mind. Minho has tucked his trembling hands beneath his thighs, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor as he mumbles, quietly, ashamed, that he wants to take things slow. His voice shaking and his heart pounding with the fear that his request might be met with laughter, or worse, a playful tease about his inexperience.
But none of that happens, of course it doesn’t. Instead, a flicker of guilt sparks in his chest at the thought that he ever doubted Jisung. Thinking that Jisung would respond with anything but pure understanding and sincerity.
Jisung only quietly pries one of Minho’s sweaty hands from where it’s hidden and wraps it in his own, squeezing tightly while quietly telling him that “it’s absolutely okay to take things slow. Don’t worry hyung, we can do everything at your pace and if you ever feel uncomfortable you can tell me, okay?”
Jisung waits until Minho responds with a small nod before adding in a whisper “I just want you to be happy”.
And that’s that.
“I just want you to be happy”
And he is. He is so happy.
Jisung’s reassurance, his nearly incomprehensible patience, loosens the tight coil of pressure in Minho’s chest. For the first time in weeks, Minho allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t have to meet some invisible standard of what a boyfriend is supposed to be.
With the weight of expectations eased, everything between them feels a little easier again. Jisung is still the same. Minho is still the same. And together, they have time to figure it all out.
~~~~
They tell their friends about the new development of their relationship during their next hang-out dinner.
It’s sweet and gentle.
Jisung carefully takes Minho’s hand and announces proudly, with his signature heart-shaped smile practically glowing, that “as of now, I am officially the happiest person on the planet because -” he pauses for dramatic effect looking around the table “- my lovely Minho hyung is finally my boyfriend!”
To no one’s surprise, it only takes five seconds before Minho’s entire face is blushing a deep red but even he can’t deny that he’s happy. He’s so, so happy to call Jisung his boyfriend.
The reaction around the table is exactly what Minho expected, bright smiles, enthusiastic cheers and a bold, sarcastic “Finally” from Seungmin, who gives them both a knowing look that has Minho ducking his head.
But soon enough, everything settles down again. Minho notices a few grins still aimed in their direction, especially from Felix and Jeongin, but the conversation quickly shifts back to its usual lively chaos.
Hyunjin is trying to convince Changbin that they should definitely visit that new museum with impressionistic art, while Changbin just frowns and grumbles about how boring it sounds. Jeongin is attempting to invite himself as well and not because he has any interest in the art but because there’s a new video game store right next to the museum. Which, naturally, leads to Changbin suddenly deciding to tag along but firmly stating that he’ll skip the museum and go straight to the store, which leaves Hyunjin dramatically flailing his arms and glaring at him.
Chan is grilling the meat on the small barbeque grill and dumbing small pieces on Seungmin’s plate. Meanwhile, Jisung keeps telling them about this new intern at the production company he works at who’s apparently a spitting image of that one actor from a new movie.
Minho mostly listens, quietly enjoying the warmth of the moment and listening in on all the different conversations. It isn’t until he feels a light nudge at his side and is met with Felix’s bright, beaming face. The blonde boy is grinning ear to ear, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he tilts his head towards Jisung and winks.
“I’m really happy you two got your shit together” he says cheerfully in Minho’s face and even though he’s a bit startled by the direct comment, Minho can’t help himself and return the big sunshine smile right back at him.
“I’m happy too, Lixie” he replies softly and immediately stuffs a spoonful of rice into his mouth to distract from the slight warmth creeping into his cheeks.
But Felix isn’t done yet, “how is it, though?” he asks, his grin widening “finally having a boyfriend? Did you kiss yet?” His tone is light and teasing but there’s an unmistakable curiosity in his voice. “I mean, I’d be surprised if you two haven’t kissed. With the way you guys were dancing around each other.”
Minho chokes. On his rice. On his own breath. Possibly on his entire existence. The sound that escapes him is somewhere between a gasp and a strangled cough and for a horrifying moment, he’s convinced he’s going to die right here at the dinner table, surrounded by his laughing friends and an overly curious Felix.
When the air finally comes back into his lungs, along with what feels like half a grain of rice lodged in his throat, he just stares at Felix with big shocked eyes.
“Uhhh I – I…” he stammers “we didn’t really… not yet” and only continues to stumble over his words. He’s sure the others are listening in now, at least the blabbering from Jisung’s side of the table got quieter.
It can’t get any worse he thinks but Felix, bless his pure, sunshine heart, doesn’t seem to notice Minho’s panic. Instead, he tilts his head curiously, his expression innocent and open “oh, really? I would’ve thought you guys had at least kissed by now,” he adds, as if he’s talking about the weather and not Minho’s rapidly unraveling composure.
Felix doesn’t have an ounce of malicious intent in his body. The boy wouldn’t hurt a fly and yet the casualness of the comment feels like a punch right into Minho’s already fragile confidence in his relationship skills. It’s not just the words, it’s the implication behind them. Should they have kissed already? Was it weird that they hadn’t? Is Minho messing this up somehow?
It doesn’t help that he can feel the amused glances of their other friends on him - not mocking, just curious - lingering on him like a spotlight.
Jisung’s voice cuts through the haze in his brain “Felix” he says lightly, though there’s a hint of something protective in his tone “don’t make hyung choke again. I’d rather keep him around for a while.” His hand slides over Minho’s under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Minho exhales slowly, his shoulders loosening just a little at the warmth of Jisung’s touch. He still feels like crawling under the table and hiding there forever but at least the conversation moves on after that.
Nevertheless, Felix’s question lingers in his mind.
“Did you kiss yet?”
“I would’ve thought you guys had at least kissed by now.”
At least…
Minho swallows hard, his eyes fixed on the half-empty bowl of rice in front of him. What does that mean, anyway… at least kissed? Is that what everyone expects? A kiss, then... what? More? When? How fast? How slow? He can’t even think about it without his chest tightening, the unease curling in his stomach like a restless knot.
It’s not like he hasn’t thought about kissing Jisung, how could he not, with how much he cares about him, how beautiful Jisung looks when he’s laughing or smiling or even just sitting quietly, lost in thought? But every time he thinks about actually doing it, the nerves outweigh the curiosity. The logistics of it all, where to put his hands, how to tilt his head, what it’s supposed to feel like.
Worse than that is the gnawing fear that he’ll get it wrong. That it’ll feel awkward, or uncomfortable, or, even worse, that Jisung won’t like it.
The thoughts and worries continue to float around his head all throughout dinner and the entirety of the two movies they watch together. Even when he and Jisung walk home together he finds himself only partly listening to what Jisung is telling him. It’s not until Jisung gently stops at a corner and tugs at this jacket that he snaps out of it.
“Hey” Jisung says, “Are you okay? You’ve been awfully quiet”
“Yeah” he says quickly, too quickly, but the way Jisung tilts his head tells him he’s not convincing anyone.
“If something’s bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?” Jisung adds quietly.
Minho hesitates, the words caught in his throat. He wants to say it, wants to tell Jisung about how Felix’s comment made him feel, about the doubts it stirred up but it feels too raw, too vulnerable. What if Jisung thinks he’s overthinking? What if he really is overthinking?
But then Jisung squeezes his hand again and the warmth in his eyes is so genuine, so patient, that Minho finds himself taking a deep breath and saying, “it’s just... the thing Felix said earlier. About us - about kissing.”
Jisung’s expression softens further, a small understanding smile tugging at his lips. “Ah” he says simply like that one syllable explains everything.
“I just... I don’t know if I’m doing this right” he admits quietly, staring at the floor “I don’t know what’s normal or if we’re supposed to be... further along or... I don’t know.”
“Oh hyung” Jisung sighs softly, “there’s no supposed to be or a relationship timeline or whatever you’re thinking. We’re exactly where we are supposed to be!”
And somehow Jisung manages to say the last sentence with such honest sincerity that the knot which has been forming itself in his stomach over the course of the evening begins to loosen again.
“I’m just happy to be here with you, wherever that might be. I just want you to be happy:”
~~~~
Minho had always assumed that kissing would feel magical.
Movies make it look that way, the Korean dramas he and Jisung watch together even more so, breathless and passionate with romantic music in the background and sparks flying between the people on screen. Kissing is supposed to feel good, like something he’d want to do again and again.
But the truth is... it doesn’t.
The first time Jisung kissed him, Minho had frozen. Not because he didn’t care about Jisung or because he didn’t want to kiss him; he did. He wanted to kiss him. Jisung is his boyfriend, after all. But the press of Jisung’s lips against his had caught him off guard. It was softer than he’d expected, warm and careful but it still felt foreign and a bit weird. Strange, like something wasn’t quite connecting the way it was supposed to.
Nevertheless, Jisung had pulled back with the sweetest smile and flushed cheeks, his eyes crinkling with happiness in a way that made Minho’s stomach flip. “You okay?” Jisung had asked softly, his thumb brushing Minho’s cheek.
And Minho had nodded, because how could he say no when Jisung looked so damn happy? And he was okay. He wanted to kiss Jisung.
“It’s just... new,” he had said and that wasn’t a lie. It was new. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he just needed more practice.
But even now, weeks later, the kisses still don’t feel right.
They aren’t bad, he isn’t repulsed or disgusted, exactly, but there’s something about the feeling of Jisung’s lips against his, the way their mouths move together, that leaves him feeling... off.
And then, the first time when Jisung’s tongue gently brushes against his lips and shortly after against his tongue, seeking permission to deepen the kiss, the unease grows sharp and undeniable. Minho’s body tenses, his breath catching in his throat as Jisung’s tongue lightly meets his own. It’s such a small thing, barely even an actual touch, but it sends a jolt through him like a sudden wave of static.
Minho draws back with a choked gasp “a-air. I just need… need some air” he’s embarrassed how he stumbles over the words followed by a big inhale and a nervous chuckle, that somehow makes everything feel even worse. God, why can’t he be normal…
If it’s weird, Jisung at least doesn’t mention it and only grins dopily at Minho with his heart-shaped smile before burying his head in Minho's brown hair, trying to hide his own blush.
“Yeah, that was a bit more than before” he laughs softly, “but I liked it”.
Jisung pulls back just enough to meet Minho’s eyes, his smile growing mischievous, “who even needs air when I can have you by my side, hm? You make me so happy hyung!” he adds with a teasing smirk as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
And yes, it’s lovely. It’s freaking adorable how much Jisung seems to like him, how much he seems to enjoy being with him. But right now, that’s a thought so far away from Minho’s mind it might as well be in another galaxy. Because seriously, who even needs air? Minho certainly does.
He takes another shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but his mind spirals anyway. Who actually enjoys licking another person? Because that’s what kissing is, isn’t it? Licking. Sure, there’s the lips and the closeness and all that but at the end of the day, you’re putting your mouth on someone else’s. And why stop at lips? Why not just lick a stripe down Jisung’s entire face while you’re at it? Or better yet, his stomach. At least his stomach is probably cleaner than his mouth.
Even during that second-long touch of their tongues, he could taste the herby flavor of Jisung’s green tea he sometimes drinks. Minho doesn’t even like green tea. The flavor lingers, bitter and sharp and all he can think is why do people enjoy this? Why does Jisung look so happy right now, his eyes sparkling like this was the best thing in the world, while Minho feels like he’s unraveling?
He forces himself to look back at Jisung, to take in the way his boyfriend is practically glowing. Jisung is so happy and it makes Minho feel both guilty and relieved at the same time. Guilty because Jisung deserves someone who can match that joy without hesitation and relieved because, at least for now, Jisung doesn’t seem to notice how weird Minho feels inside.
It isn’t Jisung. Minho knows that. Jisung is gentle, always careful to gauge Minho’s reactions, never rushing him into anything he isn’t ready for. It isn’t Jisung’s fault that Minho’s stomach churns every time their kisses become more intense, that the feeling of a tongue in his mouth makes him want to pull back and rub his lips like he’s bitten into something unpleasant.
Jisung seems to enjoy it, though, if his flushed face and giddy smiles are anything to go by.
The problem is him.
Because shouldn’t he want this? Shouldn’t he be thrilled that someone as amazing as Jisung wants to kiss him? Minho knows how lucky he is. Jisung is warm and funny and understanding and Minho adores him. He wants to be a good boyfriend, someone who can match Jisung’s energy and affection.
And once again, Minho finds himself awake late at night, staring at his laptop screen. The latest drama they have been watching together plays quietly in the background, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face. He watches as the two lead actors lean in, their lips meeting in a perfect, choreographed kiss.
It’s the first time that he actually pays attention to the kiss. Normally, he found himself looking away, instinctively avoiding watching anything remotely romantic, no matter if it was on TV or in person, happening in front of him. Kisses and romantic gestures feel private, intimate. Moments meant for just the people involved, something you shouldn't pry into.
But this time, he forces himself to watch. He studies the way their lips move together, the way their hands cup each other’s faces, the way the music swells in the background. It feels so natural, so effortless… so much more intimate than anything he and Jisung have done.
A strange, uncomfortable feeling settles deep in his chest as he continues watching and replaying the scene over and over again. He feels awkward, like he’s intruding on something personal, like a creep sneaking into the private lives of two people he doesn’t even know. But it’s just a drama, two actors playing their parts in a storyline meant to be seen by millions.
And yet, their kiss feels more genuine than any of the kisses he and Jisung have exchanged. Why can’t he kiss Jisung like that? Why can’t it feel as natural and effortless as it looks on screen? Why does it seem so easy for actors, who probably don’t even love each other, to make it look so intimate and right, while every kiss with Jisung feels like he’s still learning how to make it work?
So, when Jisung leans in again one night, their movie forgotten on the screen, Minho forces himself to smile and meet him halfway. He ignores the tension coiling in his chest as their lips meet, ignores the creeping sense of wrongness when Jisung tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Minho tries to focus on the parts he likes, the softness of Jisung’s hands on his waist, the quiet hum of affection Jisung makes against his mouth.
But the harder he tries, the worse it feels.
When Jisung pulls back, grinning, Minho feels the guilt hit him all at once.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jisung teases gently, his fingers brushing a strand of hair out of Minho’s face.
Minho forces a laugh but it comes out too thin, too tight. “Yeah. Not bad.”
The words taste bitter in his mouth and the knot in his chest only grows when Jisung kisses him again, lighter this time and whispers, “you’re getting better at this, you know.”
Better. The word makes Minho’s stomach sink. Is that what he’s supposed to be doing? Getting better? As if kissing is a skill he needs to practice, something he needs to work at until it starts feeling the way it’s supposed to?
Maybe he really just needs to get used to it. Get better at it.
That night, Minho lays in bed staring at the ceiling, his chest tight with a mixture of confusion and shame. Again, the kiss hadn’t been downright awful, Jisung isn’t doing anything wrong.
But it still doesn’t feel right.
He doesn’t feel closer to Jisung because of it. If anything, he feels further away, like every kiss is another step towards a lie he doesn’t know how to stop telling and he doesn’t know how long he can continue to keep up the facade.
~~~~
Jisung had noticed the way Minho hesitated the first time he reached for his hand in public. It wasn’t a big hesitation, just the briefest pause, almost unnoticeable, before Minho’s fingers curled around his own. If Jisung hadn’t been paying attention, he might not have noticed it at all.
But Jisung always pays attention to Minho.
It wasn’t like Minho didn’t want to hold his hand. Jisung could tell that much from the way Minho’s thumb brushed over his knuckles a few moments later, like he was silently reassuring himself it was okay. Still, something about the hesitation stuck with him.
It continued to be like that with a lot of things. A second’s pause before returning Jisung’s hugs. A small, nervous laugh whenever Jisung leaned in too close. Minho never outright pulled away, but there was something unspoken in his body language, something unsure, like he wasn’t entirely comfortable, but didn’t want to say so.
And the thing is, it only started after he asked him to be his boyfriend. They already cuddled plenty before, huddled together on the couch with their legs entwined and heads close to each other. They never were shy to hug each other, whether it was a hello-hug, a goodbye-hug or just something in-between. Heck, they even held hands before.
At first, Jisung chalked it up to nerves. Minho had told him this was his first relationship, after all. His first boyfriend. It made sense that he’d be a little shy, maybe even unsure of what to do.
But as the weeks went on, Jisung starts to wonder if there’s something more to it. Minho’s hesitation isn’t going away, if anything, it seems to deepen the closer they get.
It isn’t that Jisung minds waiting. He adores Minho, the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs, the quiet snark that always manages to catch Jisung off guard, the way he seems to care so deeply even when he tries to hide it. Jisung doesn’t need kisses or anything physical to feel loved. He’d wait as long as Minho needs.
But he also doesn’t want Minho to feel like he has to force himself into something just to make Jisung happy.
So, one night, curled up together on Jisung’s couch, Jisung decides to bring it up. The movie is playing in the background but Jisung isn’t really watching it. Minho is tucked into his side, looking as small and warm as a cat dozing in a sunbeam. His head is resting on Jisung’s shoulder, his breathing even and calm and for a moment, Jisung debates whether it’s worth disturbing the peace.
But then he remembers the hesitation, the fleeting tension he’d seen in Minho so many times before and he knows he has to say something.
“Hey,” Jisung murmurs softly, keeping his voice light.
Minho hums in response, his eyes half-lidded as he glances up at Jisung.
“You know you can tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable, right?” Jisung asks, his thumb brushing idly over Minho’s shoulder. He keeps his tone as gentle as he can, not wanting Minho to feel cornered.
Minho blinks at him, his brows furrowing slightly “you don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Jisung smiles but there’s a hint of concern in his eyes “I mean, like... if there’s ever something I do, or something I want and it’s not something you’re ready for. Or even something you don’t think you’ll ever want. You can tell me that.”
Minho opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again, his expression flickering with something Jisung can’t quite read.
“It’s okay,” Jisung adds quickly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything just because I want it. I just... I just want you to be happy, you know? And if you’re ever not, I hope you’ll tell me.”
Minho is quiet for a long moment, his gaze dropping to where his hands are curled in his lap. When he finally speaks, his voice is small. “I just... I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You won’t,” Jisung reassures him immediately, his voice firm. He tilts Minho’s chin up gently, so their eyes meet. “I promise, you won’t. You being you is already perfect, okay? We’ll figure the rest out together.”
~~~~
After that conversation, Minho feels better yet worse at the same time.
He can’t stop thinking about how Jisung has clearly noticed his hesitation, how he had taken the time to assure him that everything is okay, that he doesn’t need to force anything. But despite that reassurance, Minho feels a nagging guilt in the pit of his stomach. Jisung doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to feel like he’s doing something wrong, or worse, that he’s pressuring Minho into something he isn’t ready for.
Minho's heart aches when he replays Jisung’s words in his mind: “I just want you to be happy.” The guilt only grows heavier with every thought of Jisung worrying about him, about him possibly thinking he’s the problem, that something about their relationship isn’t right. But Minho knows, deep down, he knows, the problem isn’t Jisung. It’s him.
He's the one who is unsure. He’s the one who can’t get the kisses to feel right, the one who hesitates every time their faces come close. Jisung isn’t doing anything wrong. He’s gentle, patient, understanding. Minho is the one who keeps stumbling over his own feelings, the one who can’t meet Jisung halfway without second-guessing himself.
Still, despite the guilt clawing at him, Minho can’t ignore the comfort that comes with Jisung’s gentle words. The idea that he doesn’t have to rush, that he doesn’t have to force himself into a mold that doesn’t feel right, brings a small sense of relief. He doesn’t have to be perfect for Jisung, he just needs to be himself.
But then again... how long can he take before Jisung starts getting frustrated?
What if Jisung starts feeling like something is missing? What if Minho’s hesitation, his constant second-guessing, makes Jisung grow bored or impatient?
He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to lose Jisung, who’s everything he never knew he needed. But the longer this uncertainty lingers, the more Minho begins to fear that maybe... just maybe... he isn’t good enough for this kind of relationship after all.
So, he lies awake at night, staring at the ceiling, thoughts spiraling. The reassurance Jisung gave him has helped, yes, but it hasn't taken away the growing pressure. Eventually, he has to be okay with everything, right? Eventually, he has to figure this out. He just doesn’t know when that day would come... or if it ever would.
But if it doesn’t, Minho can’t shake the feeling that he might lose Jisung along the way.
~~~~
Nevertheless, in Minho’s professional opinion, it really gets better after that talk.
Even though the kisses still feel just as foreign as before, he finds himself relaxing a bit more into the touch, concentrating on Jisung’s soft touch, the way his fingers gently trace over his cheeks and thinking about all the happy memories they shared together or memories they had yet to make.
With each kiss, he lets himself settle into the warmth between them, trying not to overthink it, getting used to it. He focuses on the closeness, the gentle pressure of Jisung’s lips against his, the way their hands find each other naturally.
But it isn’t the actual kissing that got better, not really. It’s the hesitation. It’s lessening, ever so slowly. And in that quiet, imperfect way, that feels like progress. At least the fear of messing up isn’t so paralyzing anymore.
Or so Minho thinks.
It happens when Minho freezes for just a moment too long before remembering he has to actually move his lips against Jisung’s and with that, the damage is already done. Jisung slowly pulls back and stares at him with furrowed eyebrows and a concerned glint in his eyes.
Remembering the previous conversation where Jisung had looked at him with that concerned gaze before telling him in his stupid soft voice that “I just want you to be happy” Minho’s brain goes into overdrive. He can’t allow himself to have Jisung doubting everything again. What if this is finally his last straw?
Before Jisung even gets the chance to voice his concern, Minho presses his lips in a sloppy panicked way back onto Jisung’s. For a moment it seems to work, there’s a quiet sigh coming from Jisung’s mouth and Minho feels how the grip on his waist slightly tightens. But that’s it, a fleeting moment. Because of course stupid, compassionate, lovely Jisung can’t just forget the concern he had felt for Minho shortly before.
“Hey” Jisung says softly, pulling back just enough to search Minho’s face, his eyes filled with concern “are you sure you’re okay?”
Minho’s heart races in his chest, the words he had been holding back threatening to spill out but yet helplessly sticking in his throat. He wants to tell Jisung he’s fine. He wants to say that everything is okay. But it isn’t, is it?
Jisung tilts his head, his expression concerned but gentle “you can tell me if something’s wrong, you know. You don’t have to pretend for me.”
The weight of Jisung’s words hits Minho like a punch to the chest. His mouth going dry and before he can stop himself, the truth comes tumbling out in a shaky, fragile whisper “I don’t know if I like it. Kissing... it just... it doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to.”
Jisung doesn’t say anything right away and Minho’s stomach instantly twists into a cold knot of panic, the fear that he has broken something between them seeping into his chest, the sticky knot in his throat threating to move up behind his eyes and making itself known in clear salty tears. But then Jisung reaches for his hand, his grip warm and steady.
“Thank you for telling me,” Jisung says quietly, his thumb brushing over Minho’s knuckles. The simple gesture feels like a lifeline pulling Minho from the anxiety that is threatening to overwhelm him.
“You’re not mad?” Minho asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course not,” Jisung replies “I’m just glad you’re being honest with me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Minho’s chest tightens, again, but there was a little less weight there, a little less tension. The shame still lingers, hovering at the edges of his thoughts but Jisung’s reassurance is like a healing balm on his wounds.
“I just... I feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m a bad boyfriend because I don’t like it” Minho confesses, the words escaping before he can hold them back.
Jisung’s gaze softens and he shakes his head slowly, his hands still warm as he holds Minho’s. “You’re not a bad boyfriend, Min. Relationships aren’t about fitting into some perfect idea of what people think they should be. They’re about us. And if kissing, or anything else, doesn’t feel right to you, then that’s okay. I like you for you, not for what I think you’re supposed to be.”
Minho swallows, his fingers tightening slightly around Jisung’s “but… what if it never feels right?” He hates how small his voice sounds, how fragile the words feel coming out of his mouth. “What if I never figure out how to… how to be the kind of boyfriend you deserve?”
Jisung’s brows furrow, and his lips press into a thin line for a moment, like he’s thinking carefully about what to say. Then, with a soft sigh, he shifts, leaning his forehead against Minho’s. “Min,” he murmurs, his voice steady, unwavering, “I don’t need you to ‘figure it out’ for me. I don’t need you to be anything other than who you are.”
Minho squeezes his eyes shut. He wants to believe that, wants to let Jisung’s words settle into the cracks of his doubts and smooth them over, but there’s still a knot in his chest, still a nagging fear that won’t quite let go.
He thinks about the sleepless nights, the seemingly endless cycle of worry and doubt playing on repeat in his head. He thinks about all the times Jisung had looked at him with quiet concern, gently asking if everything is okay, if something is wrong, if there is anything he doesn’t like. He thinks about how every time, he had forced a smile, reassured him with a quiet “Yeah, everything’s fine, you don’t have to worry,” even as his own mind screamed the very thoughts that kept him awake at night.
And despite it all, despite the honest conversations, despite the small moments where it finally felt like things were getting better, despite knowing with absolute certainty that Jisung would never push him into anything he didn’t want, he still finds himself trapped in the same spiral. Still stuck in the same questions, the same anxieties, the same fear that maybe, maybe, things aren’t actually getting better at all.
And it’s that realization that finally gives him the strength to speak. Because deep down, he knows that if he keeps lying, to himself, to Jisung, there will come a point where everything will crumble under the weight of his silence. And as terrifying as it is to put his feelings into words, to sort through the mess in his head, the thought of losing Jisung, the one person who has always made him feel safe, is far, far worse.
“It’s just that something feels wrong” he starts with an unsure whisper, “this just doesn’t feel right”.
Jisung’s eyes widen and for a brief, gut-wrenching moment, Minho sees the flicker of heartbreak, the raw hurt that flashes across his face. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared but Minho still feels the sting of it, like a phantom ache in his own chest.
“What do you mean, wrong?” Jisung asks, his voice smaller than usual, careful in a way that makes Minho’s stomach twist “do you not want… us?”
Panic flares in Minho’s chest, and he shakes his head so fast his hair flops into his eyes. “No! No, that’s not - Jisung, I want us. I want you” he squeezes Jisung’s hands tightly, desperate to make him understand, “that’s not what I meant. I just…” he exhales shakily “something about this, about kissing, about the way I feel when it happens, it doesn’t feel right.”
Jisung’s shoulders relax just a little, but his eyes are still searching, still laced with concern. “Okay,” he says slowly, like he’s really trying his best to understand and piece together what Minho is trying to tell him “then… what does it feel like?”
Minho swallows. He hadn’t let himself put it into words before, hadn’t dared to give the feeling too much thought because what if it made it more real? But now, looking at Jisung, who is still here, still listening, he forces himself to try and say it.
“I… I don’t know how to explain it,” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just—there’s something wrong with me… I think” he hesitates, his fingers twitching in his lap “and it’s not you. It’s never you. You’re perfect, Jisungie. I just… I don’t know why I feel so weird and you don’t deserve this. I-” his voice catches, frustration and helplessness tangling together until it spills out in a frantic rush “this is such a mess, I’m such a mess. I’m so sorry.”
The moment the words leave his mouth, he feels the first tear slip down his cheek, warmth trailing against his skin before he can stop it.
“Okay hey, Min,” Jisung interrupts softly, his voice steady and soothing, cutting through the spiral before it can pull Minho under “it’s okay. You’re okay” he reaches up, carefully dabbing away the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie before his hand settles back in Minho’s.
“How about this?” Jisung suggests gently “I’ll ask a few things and you can just nod or shake your head. No pressure, no expectations. And if it helps, maybe we can figure out how to put it into words together.”
Minho nods hesitantly, his throat too tight to speak. Jisung gives his hands a gentle squeeze before continuing, his voice light and careful, like he’s testing the weight of each word before letting it out.
“Okay” Jisung starts, “let’s go with something simple first. Do you feel weird only when we kiss or are there other times too? Like when I hug you? When we cuddle?”
Minho hesitates for a second before shaking his head, it’s not exactly the act of hugging or being close that led to the anxious feeling bubbling up in his chest “no… I like that. I like being close to you.”
Jisung hums softly, nodding as he processes the answer “okay, that’s good. What about when I hold your hand? Or when I touch your face?”
Minho blinks at him, then lifts one of their joined hands between them “I like this,” he murmurs “I like when you touch me like this. It’s comforting.”
A small, relieved smile flickers across Jisung’s lips “that’s good too” he reassures him. “Okay, so it’s not directly all physical contact. Is it something about kissing specifically? Do you think it’s the feeling of lips against yours?”
Minho bites his lip, thinking “maybe? I mean… it’s not completely bad, but it doesn’t feel right either.”
Jisung nods again, not rushing him “what about… the tongue? Is it that part that makes you uncomfortable?”
Minho grimaces slightly, his grip unconsciously tightening around Jisung’s fingers “I really don’t like that all that much,” he admits in a small voice “it makes me feel… off. Almost-” he cuts himself off, looking down, embarrassed.
“Almost what?” Jisung asks gently, rubbing soothing circles over Minho’s knuckles.
Minho exhales, the words tasting bitter in his mouth “almost gross,” he whispers, barely audible. “Not because of you! Just in general. It’s like, it’s wet and weird and I don’t understand why people enjoy it.”
Jisung blinks at him before a quiet chuckle escapes “I mean, if you think about it, kissing really is kinda weird,” he laughs, his tone thoughtful rather than teasing “like, who decided that smashing our mouths together was supposed to be romantic?”
Despite everything, Minho lets out a small, watery laugh and Jisung beams at him. “See?” he says “it’s not weird that you don’t like it. You just… don’t. That’s okay.”
Minho breathes in slowly, the tension in his shoulders unraveling bit by bit. But Jisung isn’t done yet.
“Is it just deep kisses?” he asks carefully “or do you feel weird even with small ones?”
Minho lifts his gaze to meet Jisung’s, his voice steadier this time as he admits, “I like it when you kiss my forehead.”
Jisung’s eyes soften, his lips curling into a warm, affectionate smile “okay,” he says simply “that’s good to know because I like doing that a lot too.”
Minho notices the slight hesitation in Jisung’s expression, the way his brows furrow just a little before he finally speaks again.
“Please tell me if I’m reading too much into things,” Jisung says carefully “I mean, you just said that hugs and being close are fine, but… sometimes, I feel like you hesitate with those things too?”
Minho exhales shakily, fingers curling slightly against Jisung’s hand. How does Jisung always seem to notice all the tiny things Minho does?
Minho swallows, his throat suddenly dry “it’s not that I don’t like it,” he says slowly, trying to untangle his thoughts as he speaks “I do like being close to you. I like hugging you, holding your hand… but sometimes, even then, it just starts to stress me out and feel wrong from one moment to the next and I don’t even exactly know why.”
Jisung is looking at him with an encouraging smile and a gentle squeeze of his hands. Somehow this last question feels like the tip of the iceberg, the question which could help untangle all the mess in his mind.
He hesitates, gaze dropping to their joined hands “I think it’s not the act of being close itself. It’s more like… what comes after. Or what I think is supposed to come after.”
Jisung nods, his grip on Minho’s hand steady and patient. He doesn’t rush him, doesn’t push, just listens.
Minho exhales sharply, forcing himself to keep going “it’s not just the thought of what comes next,” he admits, barely above a whisper “it’s… it’s now. I feel tense even now. Even when I want to like it, my body just… doesn’t. I really don’t get it. I like being close to you and I want to be close to you. I want to hold your hand and hug you and cuddle with you but then sometimes, when it gets more, I feel like I’m trying to force myself to enjoy something I don’t” his voice wavers at the end and he grips Jisung’s hands tighter, as if bracing for impact.
Jisung is quiet for a beat, but there’s no hesitation when he responds “then we won’t force it,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I don’t need kissing to feel close to you. I don’t need anything specific to feel close to you” he pulls back just enough to look Minho in the eyes, his lips curling into a small smile.
“You know what I do need?”
Minho shakes his head slightly, his breath still uneven.
Jisung grins and pokes Minho’s forehead gently “I need you to stop worrying so much and just tell me when there’s something you don’t like or even better when there’s something you do like, okay? I want you to tell me when things like that take up your mind”
Minho blinks at him, stunned for a second, before huffing out a small, almost disbelieving laugh “you make it sound so simple.”
Jisung hums, tilting his head “because it is simple. I like you, Minho. You like me. That’s really all that matters in the end” he squeezes Minho’s hands once more before tugging him forward, wrapping him up in a tight, warm hug. His chin rests on top of Minho’s head, his fingers splayed across Minho’s back, holding him like he never intends to let go.
And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that’s the whole point.
Minho exhales, letting himself melt into Jisung’s embrace, letting his shoulders finally - finally - relax. Maybe it doesn’t have to be perfect. Maybe he doesn’t have to have it all figured out.
Still, despite the relief that comes from Jisung’s words, the quiet weight in Minho’s chest remains. He can’t help but feel a small flicker of fear. What if his hesitation continues? What if he never figures out how to truly feel comfortable in this relationship and Jisung eventually grows tired of waiting?
As if he’s sensing the shift in Minho’s thoughts, Jisung pulls back slightly, enough to meet his gaze directly. His eyes are soft but determined and he waits until he has all of Minho’s attention before he softly speaks again, “I’m gonna say this now, very clearly, Min, so that you don’t even get the chance to get the wrong idea or start overthinking it again, okay?”
Minho nods, his throat tight as he braces himself for whatever comes next.
“I don’t care about how a relationship is ‘supposed’ to be. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks or says about us. I don’t care if we maybe don’t fit the so-called ‘norm’ in how we approach things” after each sentence Jisung makes a small pause and squeezes Minho’s hand as if he wants to make sure his words really register with him.
“I don’t care if we’re not perfect. I really really don’t care what we do or don’t do. I also don’t care if you never change your mind about the things we’ve talked about. And if you do? Well, that’s fine too. But I want you to know that I’m not here expecting you to change your mind. Actually, I don’t really expect anything from you, except to tell me how you feel or if something is bothering you because you know what?”
He stops, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips and Minho’s eyes flicker to his face. He can see the quiet determination in Jisung’s gaze, the certainty in his words and it hits Minho in a way that makes his chest feel both lighter and fuller.
“I just want you to be happy,” Jisung says softly, but with that same unshakable confidence “and I’ll be happy as long as you are. That’s all I need to know. The rest of it? We’ll figure it out together. No pressure. Just us.”
~~~~
That conversation marks a shift, not a dramatic transformation, not an instant fix, but something quieter, something that lingers. The weight on Minho’s chest doesn’t disappear directly but it feels a little easier to carry. Things still aren’t perfect. There are still moments of hesitation, still questions he doesn’t fully know how to answer, still times when doubt creeps in without warning. But now, he at least doesn’t feel like he’s drowning in it alone.
Because now, when the thoughts start to spiral, when his brain whispers that maybe he isn’t enough, or that Jisung will eventually grow tired of waiting, he has something to hold onto. He has Jisung’s words, unwavering and full of warmth. He has the way Jisung squeezes his hand just a little tighter when he notices Minho getting lost in his head. He has the quiet, grounding presence of Jisung beside him, never pushing, never expecting, just there.
And somehow, talking about things isn’t as terrifying anymore. Maybe because Jisung makes it so easy. It’s not always deep or serious, sometimes, it’s just Jisung flopping onto his bed with a dramatic groan, face smushed against the pillows as he rants about his day, “…and then, as if my life isn’t hard enough, the vending machine just ate my money, Min. It just stole it! Gone. Vanished.”
Minho snorts, stretching out next to him, their shoulders brushing “that’s tragic. You should file a police report, get your money back, get some justice”.
“I should, right?” Jisung huffs, shifting onto his side so he can look at Minho properly. There’s a familiar glint in his eyes when he grins “Oh, by the way, are you okay with me cuddling you right now?” His voice is casual, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, like he’s just confirming whether Minho wants extra sauce with his meal.
Minho exhales, shaking his head fondly as a small smile tugs at his lips and his heart does that annoying little flip in his chest, “yeah, of course,” he murmurs, his voice quieter, softer.
Jisung hums, satisfied, before promptly throwing an arm around Minho’s waist and tucking his face into the crook of his neck and mumbling something about “getting my daily dose of Minho cuddles”. His breath is warm against Minho’s skin, his presence grounding and Minho lets himself relax into it, the weight of the day melting away.
Other times, it’s Jisung sprawled out across Minho’s lap like a particularly lazy cat, his phone held high above his face as he scrolls and laughs or chuckles quietly at whatever is playing on his phone once in a while. Though, he’s been quiet for a while, which usually means he’s found something dumb and is waiting for the perfect moment to show Minho.
Sure enough -
“Oh, oh, this one, this one is so you,” Jisung laughs loudly, shoving the screen into Minho’s face.
Minho barely glances at it before sighing “do I even want to know?”
“Too late,” Jisung teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he shoves his phone even closer. The video shows a grumpy-looking cat quietly putting up with another cat snuggling against it.
“Look! It’s literally us.”
Minho huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head “you’re ridiculous” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. He doesn’t deny it, just leans back against the couch, letting the warmth of Jisung’s weight settle against him. Jisung doesn’t move and Minho doesn’t make him. He never does.
Or it’s the two of them in the kitchen, attempting to cook dinner together, though Jisung is more of a chaotic presence than an actual helper.
“Careful, careful, don’t drop the eggs!” Jisung yelps dramatically, leaning over to watch as Minho fumbles with the carton.
“When did I ever drop the eggs?” Minho deadpans, rolling his eyes. He carefully cracks an egg into a bowl, pretending not to notice how Jisung is sitting on the counter, swinging his legs like a kid and clearly not planning on helping with dinner any time soon.
Jisung hums and just continues to watch him with exaggerated concentration, before his hand quickly shoots out and snatches a piece of grated cheese from the cutting board.
Minho doesn’t even look up, “I saw that.”
“No, you didn’t” Jisung smirks, unbothered.
“Yes, I did.”
Jisung grins wider, popping the cheese into his mouth “well, that’s impressive. Maybe you do need those glasses after all.”
Minho just sighs, shaking his head but there’s a fondness in his expression that he doesn’t even bother hiding anymore.
And then there are the quiet nights, the ones that don’t need any excuses or explanations. When Jisung shows up at Minho’s door, his hoodie too big, his hair slightly messy like he’s just rolled out of bed.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just rocks back on his heels, hands hidden in his sleeves and looking at Minho with big, expectant eyes.
“Can I stay over?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer.
Minho doesn’t even pretend to hesitate anymore. “Yeah,” he says, stepping aside to let Jisung in.
Jisung grins, ducking past him, already toeing off his shoes like he belongs here. And maybe he does. He always has.
Because it’s easy now. Not always, not in every moment but definitely easier than before. Because Minho doesn’t have to force himself to be anything he’s not. Jisung is here, patient and steady, meeting him exactly where he is.
It’s not about fixing anything anymore. It’s not about trying to fit into some idea of what a relationship should be. It’s about them. About what feels right. And as long as Jisung is here, looking at him like he’s the most important thing in the world, Minho knows they’re going to be just fine.
~~~~
“Are you happy?”
“With you always!”