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“Minho-ya… Kibummie’s drunk~” Kibum announced as he pushed the door open, not thinking to stop it from banging loudly against the wall as he stumbled into Minho’s bedroom and let himself fall onto the small bed ever so gracefully. Kibum had a habit of doing this—getting absolutely wasted out of his mind with his friends, almost always at some grimy gay bar tucked away in the sketchy, touristy part of Itaewon, and if he didn't end up getting lucky, subsequently barging his way into Minho’s room in the middle of the night. Minho didn't seem to mind his intrusions too much, so Kibum had built a routine.
Minho suddenly tensed and woke up from the shock of a 150-pound man launching himself onto his peacefully sleeping body, but relaxed when he realized it was just Kibum. The older man had latched himself onto Minho like a bear, throwing his right leg over Minho and wrapping his arms around his chest. Besides Kibum’s announcement, he could tell Kibum had been drinking out somewhere by his scent—one of his musky cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and sweet cocktails. Kibum himself didn't smoke, saying that it was only for “assholes who want to look cool”, but it seemed all of the men he surrounded himself with did.
“Hello to you too, Kibum-ah,” Minho mumbled, voice froggy from being barely awake. He blinked quickly to remove the lingering sleep from his eyes, and turned his head slightly to see Kibum looking down at him, face and neck flushed carnation red with a smile shining on his face.
“You should come out and have a drink with me sometime,” Kibum slurred, his speech slightly affected by the way his face was smushed into Minho’s shoulder. “You need to loosen up a bit really, come and have some fun for once, you're always so…” he added, trailing off his thoughts into an incoherent sound that Minho could somehow still understand as Kibum’s uniquely special way of calling him chronically wound-up. It wasn't necessarily wrong per se, as much as Minho liked to pretend it was. Being an idol didn't give him, or any of them, time to relax and be young adults.
“I do have fun! Plus, I don't think I’d like the places you go to. You’d say I’m killing your vibe,” Minho replied, eliciting a little huff of almost-annoyance from Kibum, one he could feel brush the nape of his neck and make the small hairs on it stand up. Minho was never really one for the sorts of clubs and bars Kibum frequented, hidden places in the shadows of the city bustling with all sorts of people, and with that came all sorts of sex things Minho would rather be oblivious to. The last time he had tagged along with Kibum, he had naively thought that the men’s bathroom would actually be for use as a bathroom, and promptly left after hearing a couple… heavily enjoying themselves in the handicap stall.
“You never know unless you try. And I mean really try, that time you dipped after fifteen minutes doesn't count,” Kibum responded with an air of uncharacteristic sageness, especially considering how inebriated and sleepy he was.
“I left because I walked in on two guys loudly getting it on in the bathroom!” Minho fought back, letting out a sigh of slight annoyance.
“Honey,” Kibum started. “You went into the bathroom. At a bar. A gay bar. Those bathrooms are for everything but taking a piss.”
“Unfortunately, I didn't know that. Plus, I wouldn’t enjoy seeing a bunch of dudes sword fighting with their dicks regardless of the area of the bar, because you know damn well that behavior is in no way confined to the bathroom.” Kibum couldn't help but let out a giggle like a schoolgirl whose crush just looked at her upon hearing Minho.
“That's not true! We have some level of decorum. It's a public space after all.” Kibum replied, bewildered by Minho’s… creativity with words. If he were honest and not absolutely lying out his ass right now, Kibum would not be surprised at all if he saw two guys dickfighting at any of the places he was a regular at. “That only happens on Fridays,” he added, just to fuck with Minho a bit more. If there actually were Dickfighting Fridays, he would be going a hell of a lot more than he did already.
“What even is a– no, I don't want to know. Spare me.” Minho conceded.
“Good choice,” Kibum said, stretching out his tired muscles. “God, I’m going to be so hungover tomorrow. I can already feel it.” He slowly got up from the bed, surprising Minho with the sudden loss of his body heat against his back.
Before Minho could complain, Kibum spoke. “Relax, I just don’t want to sleep in full leather. Pajamas are a thing for a reason.” Minho’s head was still turned towards Kibum, who was now undressing down to his boxers and rifling through Minho's drawers. It wasn't unusual for them to be like this—half-nude and sharing clothes, when you lived in a dorm with four other boys it was bound to happen. Still, Minho couldn't help but admire Kibum—his soft, milky legs that led up to his perfect ass, a slim waist and slender hands, not that Minho was capital-A-attracted to Kibum in that way, of course he wouldn't be, he was just… acknowledging Kibum’s objective attractiveness.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Kibum quipped, snapping Minho out of his trance. Kibum didn't mind that Minho was staring, in fact he quite enjoyed the attention on him, he just enjoyed to watch the younger man turn red in embarrassment at being caught. It was cute. This was a fact Minho had become precisely aware of over the years, which he didn't enjoy at first considering he took it as Kibum enjoying to humiliate him, but eventually grew to not mind as much.
Once he had dressed himself in one of Minho’s T-shirts that were just too large on his slender and shorter frame, and only that T-shirt as Minho had so precisely observed, he climbed back into Minho's bed and resumed his position of latching onto Minho like a koala.
“I’m sleepy and I’m going to be insanely hungover tomorrow,” Kibum mumbled, already half-asleep. “You better not wake me up. Please.”
“Of course,” Minho assured. “Get some rest. Goodnight, Bummie,”
Kibum made a noise that sounded vaguely like a goodnight, but trailed off into slumber as he spoke.
When Minho woke up the next morning, Kibum was still sound asleep on top of him. Some time in the night, he had shifted so now he was fully on his stomach and Kibum to his side, his face close enough that he could feel the soft puffs of his inhales and exhales on his shoulder. He looked like an angel when he was like this, with his long eyelashes and cherubic expression.
Though it was seemingly obvious that Minho was capital-A-attracted to Kibum in some capacity from the start, it took him nearly a decade for him to do anything about it. It went nearly the same way, just like those nights years ago;
One Night in 2018:
Kibum stopped drinking. Or at least he did, until a couple months ago. While he hated the hangovers and head-pounding that it brought upon him, he now deeply understood why his younger self would drink so often. Especially with everything going on. This time, he had stumbled into Minho’s apartment, not as drunk as he used to be, but still a bit affected, and not even knowing if Minho would be home. He punched in the doorcode to the flat; 0923, his birthday of course, and opened the heavy door with the weight of his shoulder.
“Minho-ya!” He called, making his way slowly towards the first soft object he saw—Minho’s sofa—and promptly flopping himself down onto it, pulling a blanket on top of him. It was comfortable and warm, just like Minho had been all those years ago. Kibum heard a door open with a soft click behind him, and there Minho emerged. His hair was slightly damp, like he had taken a shower some hours ago, and he was wearing only a pair of sweatpants and a towel on his shoulders, because of course fucking Choi Minho would be walking around his apartment flaunting his stupidly hot and sexy body.
“Kibum? Is everything okay?” Minho asked, making his way over to the Kibum-shaped blob in the living room. He looked down at the older man, face flushed from alcohol, spreading down his neck and onto his ears. He was drunk and made his way to Minho—something he hadn't done for years, not since they were both immature twenty-somethings who were just trying to figure it all out.
“Everything’s great. Amazing, even,” Kibum said, though Minho could not tell for the life of him whether he was being incredibly deadpan while sarcastic or was truly serious. “Went to the bar with some friends. I drank even though I wasn't planning to. Where else do I come but to you?”
That last part was true. Even in times where they had more rough patches in their friendship, Kibum had always made his way to Minho when he was in need, regardless of if there was a problem needing to be fixed or not. It touched him, to be honest, that Kibum trusted him that much. He couldn’t name any person outside of his family that he did.
“Do you need anything? Water, food…” Minho asked, trailing off. Kibum only shook his head and reached for Minho, his hands concealed by the blanked but Minho received the message nonetheless. He moved himself over towards Kibum, embracing him with his left arm as he rested his head on his shoulder. He soothingly rubbed Kibum's back, a habit of Minho’s that he thoroughly enjoyed but would never admit to.
Kibum took in a shaking breath before he spoke, though Minho couldn't tell why he seemed so nervous like this. “Minho? Can I… tell you something?” he asked tentatively, not expecting an averse reaction but hesitant nonetheless.
“Of course you can, you know you can always tell me anything.”
“I went out to the bar today. You know that… the current events have been pulling us all down, so I thought I would go out and try to bring my spirits up. I danced with a few guys, but I just couldn't click with anyone. Minho, they weren't you.”
Kibum's words hit Minho like a gymball to the stomach. He wanted to say something, to rip all his feelings from his heart and bare them on a table for Kibum to see, but only one word could escape from his mouth.
“Kibum–”
“You know I’m not good with relationships. I could only keep a guy around for so long. You know why? I kept comparing them to you, whether I realized it or not. I hated all your girlfriends, even the sweet ones, because I was jealous. So, so, fucking jealous,” He continued on, unable to even look at Minho.
“Kibum-ah,”
And I know you're straight, and you probably think that I’m crazy, but it feels untruthful to hide it from you. If you don't want me like that too, I’ll deal with it. I love you, Minho. As a friend, as family, as anything and everything, I love you. God, this is so sappy, what am I even–”
Minho cut Kibum off with a chaste kiss to the lips, one cautioned and careful. Kibum froze in shock at first, then easily melted into the kiss, wanting to feel Minho closer to him, to become one soul, one being.
“Minho, do you–”
“Kibum, I love you. I’ve been waiting for this for so long, way too long, I thought you would never be interested in me like that. I want this as much as you do,” Minho confessed, looking Kibum in the face even when the older man closed his eyes.
“You– you're–” Kibum attempted to respond, but was at a complete loss for words. In all the instances he imagined this moment—a lot more than he would ever admit—he never thought he would get this far.
“I like people. Male, female, whoever. You are the person that I like, the person that I love. I want to be with you. To be yours.”
“I–” Kibum held back a catch in his throat, trying not to cry but still having a tear drop down the side of his face. Minho, being the stupidly handsome and perfect man he was, wiped the tear with his thumb and left a soft kiss on Kibum’s cheekbone.
“I’m here, it's all okay,” Minho soothed, tightening his embrace of Kibum. “I want this. I want to be your boyfriend, your partner, your other half. I’ll give you everything. I know we both want this.”
“Yes,” Kibum whispered, voice slightly froggy from the soft crying he had tried and failed to conceal. This time it was Kibum who initiated the kiss, smiling into it as he felt Minho on his body, on his hands everywhere.
“Damn it. I should have known it. It was so obvious,” Kibum said, attempting to hold back soft laughter.
“Known what?”
“That you were into me. Last time I came into your space like this, you were totally ogling my ass!” Kibum replied, softly play-hitting Minho.
“You do have a banging ass,” Minho mused, sounding so pensive for a man talking about ass.
“You can bang my ass tomorrow. I’m tired, god,” Kibum responded with a yawn, stretching out his limbs. It was well past midnight at this point, and he was four moments away from falling asleep on the couch.
“Bed?” Minho asked, getting a hum of approval from Kibum. The younger man picked him up bridal style, eliciting a groan and a “You're so extra” out of Kibum. Regardless of how much he complained, Kibum loved this treatment, being pampered by someone. In some moments he was lowered down onto the bed and tucked into the covers by Minho, who joined him on the side.
“This is real, right?” Minho asked, latching himself onto Kibum just like the older man did so many years ago. Kibum responded by pinching Minho’s arm with his sharp nail, causing him to yelp in surprise.
“What was that for?” Minho whined, pouting at Kibum, who couldn't see his face but could mentally visualize the big puppy eyes he was putting on behind him.
“You're not dreaming, it's real.” Kibum responded. “I should be dreaming right now. I’m so tired. Goodnight, Minho.”
“Goodnight, Kibummie,” Minho replied, leaving a kiss on Kibum’s cheek. He could feel the apples rise in a smile, and smiled himself knowing Kibum was happy. They fell asleep like that, limbs interlaced in affection and a newfound love for each other.