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Minho used to think that the house parties would stop after college, but if anything they became more frequent. People didn’t want to go clubbing, they wanted to get wine drunk with their friends in comfortable clothes and sit on a couch instead of lean against a sticky bar with a stranger’s hot breath in their ear. He was happy with this – there was a time and place for a club, but cargo pants and leather beneath his ass was preferable for most weekends. He could conserve his energy and not worry so deeply about losing Jisung in crowds.
Unless, of course, the house parties were at Changbin’s apartment.
“Kind of surprises me every time,” Jeongin said awkwardly, squeezing onto the couch next to Minho, “just how many people Changbin-hyung knows.”
Minho hummed his agreement and sipped his shitty beer. “It surprises me he likes enough people to fit into his palace. If you paid me to fill this place I’d have to go onto the street and hire strangers.”
Jeongin laughed and punched Minho’s arm gently. “You don’t mean that.”
Minho rolled his neck and lolled his head, eyes on Jeongin’s dimpled smile. “Name ten people I like being around.”
“Me,” Jeongin started. “Hannie-hyung. Chan-hyung, Hyunjin-hyung, Lix-hyung, Seungm-“
“See, you could only think of five. I don’t know who that last guy is.”
Across the room, as if sensing the slight, Seungmin looked away from his conversation and flipped Minho off. Minho sent him a finger heart that made Seungmin shudder.
Jisung was across the room, wedged between Chan and Changbin, exactly where Minho knew he wanted to be. He was drunk, already floppy and red, all contagious smiles and too-loud laughter. Cutie.
Minho lifted his own beer to his mouth and watched the conversation a while. He didn’t need to know what they were talking about – it was inconsequential. What mattered was when Jisung noticed Minho watching and his flush deepened. He made a concerted effort not to look over and lasted maybe thirty seconds before glancing over.
“Cutie,” Minho mouthed.
Jisung scowled and looked at the floor, blush rising to his hairline.
“Everyone’s rejecting you today, hyung,” Jeongin said blithely. “Wanna get another drink?”
Minho joined him, happy for the excuse to brush past Jisung and slide his hand over Jisung’s lithe waist. The embarrassed heat was radiating from him; he tangled their hands together before Minho was out of touching distance.
-
Minho ended up back on the couch three beers later, this time with Jisung between his legs, leaning back against his chest. Jisung lifted their entwined hands to point at a stranger in the press of the crowd.
“See that guy?”
Minho hummed. The stranger was tall. His hair was brown. His face was fine.
“He asked me out to coffee.”
Minho hummed again.
“Should I go?”
“Give me a kiss.”
Jisung tilted his head back obediently, eyes big and sweet as he pouted. Minho kissed him gently, barely more than a press of their lips before he went back to considering the stranger.
The comparison was laughable, but pit Jisung against anyone else and the comparison would always be ridiculous. Like anyone else could ever compare – in looks, intelligence, humour, kindness, spirit. The stranger looked fine. Fine was better than bad but worse than good. Minho wasn’t sure he’d ever consider anyone good in relation to Jisung, but that was a thought for sober minds.
“Hyung?”
“What does he like about you?”
“We talked about music. He thinks I’m cute. He said we’re sweet.”
Minho felt his brows rise, staring at the back of Jisung’s head, his loose curls. “We?”
“I asked if it would be an issue. How close we are, I mean. He said he understood, and that he’s not the jealous type.”
He’d turn out to be. They all did. Minho used his free hand to grip the inside of Jisung’s thigh and shift their bodies into a more comfortable slouch. He pinched Jisung’s skin through his jeans when Jisung grumbled, resulting in a soft laugh that sounded close to a moan.
“What do you think?”
Minho kept his eyes on the fine stranger. He was conversing with Yongbok, his eyes unfocused and flicking around the room. He smiled when he caught sight of Jisung, but the happiness faded slightly when he met Minho’s eyes over Jisung’s shoulder.
“Hyung needs another kiss,” Minho murmured.
Not jealous. Laughable, really, that this decidedly average man had positioned himself firmly into the camp of the doting date. He wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last in the long line of failed relationships that couldn’t understand what Jisung and Minho had – friendship, sure, but something so deep it felt like bone marrow. If Minho wanted a kiss, boyfriend or not, he’d get one. If Jisung wanted anything, boyfriend or not, Minho would kill or die to provide.
Jisung turned to face Minho fully, eyes alight. “Silly hyung,” he murmured, pushing Minho’s freshly bleached hair back from his face. “Stop pissing up my leg.”
He kissed Minho anyway. Soft, sweet pecks, one, two, three, and then the tiniest slip of his wet tongue.
“Are you being serious, Jisung?”
They broke apart slowly, but Jisung barely turned to face the fine stranger. He blinked up at him. “What?”
“You told me that the two of you are friends.”
“We are.” Jisung frowned. “I told you we’re close.”
“Besties,” Minho sang, hooking his chin on Jisung’s shoulder. It was easy to smile genuinely when he still had Jisung’s spit on his lips.
The guy shook his head, a muscle in his neck twitching. “You’re either lying or fucked in the head. Are you sleeping together?”
Jisung laughed. “No, dude. What the hell? Friends kiss all the time – you know Lix. Name a friend of his that he hasn’t kissed.”
“He doesn’t kiss friends like the way the two of you kiss.”
Changbin was watching them from the edge of the room, severe and cautious. He didn’t respond when Minho winked.
“You’re not – I’m not doing this. I’m not signing up to be a cuck to your weird friendship.”
“Okay,” Jisung said easily. “I get it.”
That drew the guy up short. “Do you?”
“Sure. I understand that not everyone would get it – that’s why I warned you. I’m not changing my friendship for a potential date, though. Hyung is important to me.”
Minho squeezed Jisung’s hand.
The stranger looked directly at Minho. “You can’t scare everyone off forever. One day someone will want him as much as you, and you’ll have to sit back and deal with the fact that you’re not the one fucking him to sleep and making him breakfast every day.”
“I look forward to the day Jisungie meets his match,” Minho said. He meant it, too, despite the lump of burning coal in his stomach. The lines they didn’t cross were few and far between, and their mutual friends were too used to them to make a point of it anymore. No fucking, no staying over. Odd, wriggly, faded lines, but lines nonetheless. Just because they wouldn't cross those lines didn't mean Jisung was undeserving of someone that could cross them with him.
The stranger looked like he’d say something else, but after a moment he shook his head and shoved his way through the crowd.
"Well," Minho said mildly. "At least I didn't waste time learning his name."
Jisung slumped back against Minho with a sigh. “That was pathetically short lived.”
Minho held him tighter. He thought of waking up next to a sleep-blurred Jisung. He thought of feeding him, fucking him. Kissing him in public without the vague annoyance of an average stranger throwing a tantrum. “Don’t worry about it, jagiya. Are you so desperate to find a boyfriend?”
Jisung scoffed. He kissed Minho again, this time without prompting. “Why would I be? I have you.”