A Funny Coincidence

by talay_verse

Summary:

“So this is the thirty-four-year-old guy you found again?” Minho asked, his dark eyes flashing with an indecipherable expression, somewhere between amused and utterly stunned. “An old man, as my little brother keeps calling me?”

or: In which Jisung loses the phone number of his dream guy, accidentally bumps into him months later as his new dance teacher, and runs into one major problem—he's Felix's thirty-four-year-old older brother.

The sound of sweat-glistening skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, a fast, warm rhythm broken only by Minho’s deepening moans.

Jisung kept a firm grip on Minho’s bare hips, his fingers digging into the warm flesh as he tried not to lose the beat. His lungs burned with every breath and his legs trembled from the exertion, but the intense heat coiling at the center of his chest told him he was seconds away. He was right on the edge.

“Don't stop, baby... you’re so good, you make hyung feel so good,” Minho murmured against the pillow, his voice cracked with pleasure, turned soft and completely pliable beneath him.

Those words hit like a strike to the heart and a surge of pure adrenaline. Jisung had always been drawn to older men, fascinated by the air of confidence and experience they carried, but finding someone willing to yield control to him was an almost impossible feat.

Yet Minho—twelve years his senior, with a mature elegance and beauty that had taken Jisung's breath away back at the bar—was surrendering entirely to him, letting Jisung make him come. Feeling that validation, having total control over a man like him, made Jisung lose all restraint.

With one final deep thrust, he let go, stifling a sharp cry into the crook of Minho’s neck while he felt the other’s body contract tightly around his own at that exact moment, swept away by the very same wave of pleasure.

He began tracing light kisses along Minho's neck, slowly moving up his jawline. Minho took Jisung's face in his hands to gently turn him toward himself, seeking his lips in a slow, deep kiss, lingering on his lower lip and grazing it lightly with his teeth. They stayed like that for a while, suspended in that intimacy, until the rhythm gradually faded into a quiet, motionless embrace.

Jisung stayed there for a long moment, draped over him, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Minho turned slowly toward him, his eyes tired yet glossy in the dim light of the room. He stroked Jisung's cheek with his thumb, a terrifyingly sweet gesture, before leaving a light, almost lazy kiss on his lips.

They drifted off to sleep a few minutes later, curled against each other, wrapped in the distant sound of summer rain tapping quietly against the windowpane.

Jisung slept unbelievably well. His body was drained of all tension, sunken into a feeling of warmth and safety he hadn't felt in a long time. Having Minho beside him granted him a deep, nightmare-free sleep.

It was the sunlight, pushing insistently through the gaps in the curtains, that finally woke him. Jisung opened his eyes with difficulty, stretching with a still-groggy smile. He turned toward the nightstand to check the time on his phone, but the screen remained stubbornly black. He pressed the power button repeatedly, but it was no use, the battery had completely drained overnight.

A sense of unease began to creep in. He sat up and fished his wristwatch from the bottom of his backpack, which lay abandoned on the floor. When he flipped it over and saw where the hands were pointing, the blood froze in his veins.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, eyes widening.

His train back home was leaving in less than two hours, and the bus stop for the station was on the other side of town.

Panic took over. Jisung began scrambling for his clothes scattered across the floor, his hands trembling so hard he put his shirt on inside out in his haste before fumbling to flip it back.

He paused for a second to look at the bed. Minho was still sound asleep on his stomach, the sheet slung low over his lower back and his dark hair messy against the pillow. He was stunning, completely bathed in that morning calm, totally unaware of the chaos unfolding a meter away.

Jisung desperately wanted to wake him, to touch his face, kiss him softly, and maybe lose themselves in breakfast together, but time wasn't granting him a single second.

He grabbed a crumpled slip of paper from the table and a pen from the bottom of his bag. He wrote in quick, jagged strokes, almost scratching the paper: 

"I have to run to catch my train or I'll miss it! My phone is dead. Call me as soon as you can: 010-1*40-9*25"

He placed the note right on the nightstand, next to Minho's dead phone, making sure it was in plain sight. He cast one last long look at the man in bed, heavy with resentment toward the cruel timing, held his breath, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and bolted out of the apartment, running at full speed into the fine morning rain.

Over an hour and a half later, sitting on the train seat with his breathing finally returning to normal, Jisung was at last able to let out a sigh of relief. He had made it by the skin of his teeth.

He reached into the outer pocket of his jacket to find a pack of tissues to dry his damp hair, but his fingers bumped into a small ball of crumpled paper instead.

Confused, he pulled it out and slowly unfolded it over his jeans.

His heart stopped in his chest.

It was his note. The paper with his phone number and the message for Minho.

In the morning chaos, convinced he had left it on the nightstand, he had scooped it back up along with his keys and shoved it into his pocket without even realizing it.

Jisung sat staring at those handwritten numbers while the train car swayed rhythmically on the tracks. No number left behind. No way to ever find him again.

He desperately rewound his memory, but they had exchanged almost nothing personal, just names, glances, and the burning sensation of his hands on skin.

He slumped back against the headrest, closing his eyes as a bitter, incredulous laugh escaped his lips.

Summer was over, and he had just lost the only person capable of turning his world completely upside down like that.

Returning to the city was a cold shower. Jisung spent the first three days staring at his bedroom ceiling, caught between anger at himself for the stupid mistake with the note and a sudden wave of longing every time his thoughts drifted back to Minho’s scent and his groans.

By the fourth day, Felix left him no choice. He showed up at his door unannounced, dragged him out by force, and cornered him at a table in their favorite café, tucked away in a quiet corner with a cup of coffee and a steaming hot chocolate milk between them.

“Alright, Han Jisung, spill it,” Felix began, leaning his elbows on the table and staring at him with wide eyes. “You came back strange. Quieter than usual, and your head is constantly somewhere else. I want to know everything. You met someone, didn't you? Tell me yes.”

Jisung let out a long sigh, stirring his spoon in the cup. He knew he couldn't keep anything hidden from him for long; Felix picked up on everything at first glance.

“Yeah... I met someone,” Jisung murmured, feeling his cheeks burn at the mere memory. “But it's complicated.”

“Complicated how? Who is he? How old is he?” Felix’s questions fired off in rapid succession.

“He's thirty-four,” Jisung replied with feigned casualness, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

Felix froze mid-sip, his mouth agape in an expression of pure, dramatic disapproval. “What?! But he's my brother's age! Jisung, are you kidding? Thirty-four? He's practically an old man!”

“He's not an old man, Felix!” Jisung cut in immediately, laughing at his friend's usual overreaction, even as a part of him burned with the need to defend Minho. “Listen to me... he was incredible. Breathtakingly handsome, mature... and crazy experienced. You know how hard it is for me to find someone I actually like who doesn't demand to take control, right?”

Felix leaned in closer, his curiosity completely washing away any banter. “Wait... he let you top? A guy twelve years older than you?”

“He didn't just let me,” Jisung continued, lowering his voice. A lopsided smile, brimming with nostalgic sweetness, curved his lips. “He was completely devoted, Lixie. I've never seen such a captivating man melt like that... a single whisper from me, the slightest touch was enough to make him shiver. He gave me an immense sense of security, but in that bed, he was entirely mine and I was his.”

Felix stared at him speechless, visibly moved by the tone Jisung was using to speak of him. “Damn... you really did find someone special. So why have you had that kicked-puppy face ever since you got back?”

Jisung's smile vanished instantly, swallowed by deep bitterness. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper he had been carrying around like a curse, laying it on the table between their cups.

“The problem is that I'm an idiot,” he murmured, staring at his own handwriting on the page. “The morning I left, I was in a total panic about my train. I wrote him a note with my number to leave on the nightstand while he was asleep... but in my rush, I picked the paper back up with my other stuff. I didn't leave him anything, Felix. I don't know his last name, I don't know what he does for a living, I don't know where he lives. All I know is his name.”

Felix looked at the crumpled note on the table, then at his best friend’s hollow gaze. His cheerful energy faded into a grimace of genuine sympathy.

“Oh, Ji... I'm so sorry.” Felix reached across the table, squeezing his wrist. “Still, the city isn't that massive... who knows, maybe fate will bring you together again.”

“Yeah, right,” Jisung whispered with a bitter smirk, taking the note back to tuck it safely into his pocket.

Another couple of weeks passed. Jisung’s life had been reduced to the monotonous commute between home and university, interrupted only by Hyunjin’s constant whining.

His friend had been nagging him for days to accompany him to a dance academy. Hyunjin had developed a crush on a guy who attended a class there, and to avoid looking like a stalker by going alone, he had badgered Jisung relentlessly to serve as his moral support.

“Please, Jisung! Just one class!” Hyunjin begged him for the umpteenth time as they walked down the academy hallway. “I just need to figure out if he notices me. You just have to stand there, support me, and pretend to follow the steps.”

“If I end up twisting an ankle, you’re buying me dinner for a whole month,” Jisung grumbled, pulling up his oversized t-shirt before pushing open the glass door to the mirrored studio.

The room was massive, already filled with students stretching. Jisung immediately squeezed into a corner at the back, leaning his shoulders against the wall with his arms crossed, completely uninterested. Then, the office door at the back opened.

“Alright guys, everyone to the center! Let's start with warm-ups,” said a sweet voice, yet firm and terrifyingly familiar.

Jisung’s mouth went bone dry. He snapped his head up, his heart quite literally lodging itself in his throat.

Minho.

Standing in the center of the hardwood floor, wearing gray sweatpants and a soft t-shirt that draped over his shoulders, Minho was rolling his sleeves up to his forearms.

Jisung froze, unable to even breathe. Of all the dance schools in the city, the instructor had to be him.

Minho kept talking for a few seconds, guiding the first few exercises, until his eyes, scanning the room through the mirror, caught on the rigid figure in the back. His gaze locked onto Jisung. He stopped mid-sentence, his lips parted in surprise, pure disbelief in his dark eyes.

“Are you alright, teacher?” one of the students asked upon seeing him hesitate.

“Yes... yes, sorry. Let’s start over,” Minho replied, his voice slightly deeper, without taking his eyes off Jisung for even a second.

From that moment on, the class turned into absolute torture.

Minho demonstrated every movement with a captivating grace and discipline. But every time he turned toward the mirror, every time he bent down or moved to the beat of the music, his eyes systematically sought Jisung out through the reflection.

Jisung, on his part, was completely incapable of coordinating his feet. He moved his legs aimlessly, his mind thoroughly clouded by the heat radiating through his chest. He remembered the feeling of those shoulders beneath his fingers all too well, Minho’s muffled moans against the pillow when he yielded to him... and now he saw him right there, as an elegant and rigorous instructor, just a few feet away.

Halfway through the class, Minho began walking between the rows to correct posture. Jisung felt the other’s footsteps approaching, his chest beginning to heave heavily. He pretended to focus on an arm movement, but Minho stopped right behind him.

The proximity was utterly undoing. Jisung could feel the wave of heat emanating from his body and that unmistakable scent that had made his head spin during the summer.

Minho reached out and, with a firm and slow grip, placed his hands on Jisung’s hips to adjust his stance.

“You’re too tense... Jisung,” Minho murmured close to his ear. His voice was a whisper that sent a shiver straight down his spine. “Relax your shoulders. And try not to lose the rhythm.”

Jisung swallowed hard, struggling for air. Minho’s fingers lingered on his hips a second too long, before slowly letting go.

When Minho walked back to the front of the class, their eyes locked once more in the large mirror. Minho licked his lower lip with the faintest hint of a smile, a dark glint in his eyes promising that once class was over, they would have plenty of settling up to do.

When the music faded and Minho announced the end of the session, the room filled with the chatter of students gathering their bags. Jisung remained completely still.

“Jisung, you were amazing! I mean, you messed up pretty much every step, but you looked so intense!” Hyunjin exclaimed, walking over with his water bottle in hand. “Anyway, I found out that guy’s name is Jeongin and—”

“Hyunjin,” Jisung interrupted him, placing a hand on his shoulder with a grip that was far too firm, his voice trembling. “Listen to me. Go ahead without me. I... I just need a second. I need some air, my head is spinning.”

Hyunjin looked at him, bewildered, then raised his hands. “Alright, alright! Let’s talk later for details!”

Jisung waited. He stayed put as the room slowly emptied out, watching the other students leave one by one through the door.

Minho, at the back of the room, was putting away the sound system and organizing some equipment, but every single movement was slow, clearly meant to stall until they were completely alone.

When the last student crossed the threshold and the door shut with a dull thud, an almost surreal silence fell over the large mirrored room.

Minho turned around slowly. He took a few steps toward him, hands tucked into his sweatpant pockets, his gaze fixed on Jisung. The closer he got, the denser the air in the room seemed to become.

“So... dance lessons, Jisung?” Minho began, stopping just a meter away. His voice was deep, a mixture of subtle irony and a barely contained tension. “I didn’t know you were so passionate about it.”

“I... I didn’t know you taught here,” Jisung managed to say, swallowing dryly. The words almost died in his throat. Seeing him right there, so close, his chest still slightly heaving from the workout and dark hair damp with sweat against his forehead, sent him flying straight back to that summer night.

“You owe me an explanation,” Minho said, stepping even closer. Now, barely a few inches separated them. There was a dark shadow in his gaze, a note of vulnerability he was trying to hide. “You left before I woke up. No goodbye, no number... nothing. I spent weeks wondering what I had done wrong, convincing myself I was just a summer fling for a kid who just wanted to have some fun.”

“No! No, Minho, I swear to you it didn't go like that!” Jisung explained immediately, speaking almost without taking a breath, a tone of pure desperation in his voice. “I was late for my train, my phone was dead... I wrote you a note! I wrote my number on a slip of paper and wanted to leave it on the nightstand for you, but in my panic to run out, I accidentally grabbed it back with my stuff and shoved it in my pocket. I only realized when I was already on the train! You have no idea how much I hated myself, I spent weeks thinking about you and calling myself an idiot!”

Minho stared at him in silence for a few seconds, deciphering every single nuance on Jisung's face. Then, the stiffness in his shoulders dissolved, and a small, incredulous, yet infinitely sweet smile curved his lips.

“You really are a mess, you know that?” Minho murmured.

He reached out, his fingers brushing Jisung’s cheek, slowly tracing upward until they tangled in his hair. The contact was like an electric shock. Jisung instinctively leaned his head into that warm palm, closing his eyes for a second before snapping them open to lock onto Minho’s.

The tension accumulated over the entire hour of class exploded. Jisung closed the distance, grabbing Minho by the hips and pulling him in fiercely, while Minho cupped the back of his neck, pressing his lips against Jisung’s in a desperate, hot kiss, brimming with all the desire suppressed for weeks.

The taste of Minho was exactly as he remembered, and hearing his quiet, muffled moans against his mouth made Jisung lose all control.

He pushed him backward until Minho's shoulders hit the large mirrored wall. The sound of the vibrating glass echoed through the empty room. Jisung’s hands slipped quickly beneath Minho’s t-shirt, seeking the warm skin of his hips, while Minho wrapped his arms around his neck, instinctively spreading his legs to welcome him closer between them.

“Jisung...” Minho murmured between kisses, his voice cracked with heavy breath. “W-we can’t... not here. The cleaning crew is coming in soon.”

“I don't care,” Jisung breathed against his skin, trailing a path of kisses down Minho’s jawline to his neck, where he felt his pulse racing out of control.

Minho let out a shaky sigh, his fingers gripping Jisung’s shoulders tightly to anchor himself, before finding the strength to gently push him back.

“No, seriously,” Minho said, trying to compose himself while his gaze still burned with want. He stroked his hair with a gentleness that made Jisung melt. “Come to my place. My apartment is ten minutes from here.”

Jisung looked at him, his eyes still clouded with desire and his chest heaving wildly. “Yeah. Let’s go right now.”

The drive over was another form of torture. Minho drove with one hand firm on the wheel, while the other rested with casual ease on Jisung’s thigh. His thumb traced slow, small circles over the denim of his jeans, a warm, and reassuring touch that sent the fever in Jisung’s blood spiking with every kilometer.

Every time they stopped at a red light, their eyes met in the dark interior of the car, making the air grow hotter and hotter.

Then, the car turned into a very familiar tree-lined avenue and pulled up in front of a building.

Suddenly, the blood in Jisung’s veins seemed to freeze solid.

His eyes went wide as he stared at the entrance of a residential complex he knew all too well. Minho’s hand, which until a second ago had been caressing his leg, froze on impact, distinctly feeling Jisung’s muscles suddenly tense up beneath his fingers, the boy's whole body going rigid like a wire about to snap.

Minho turned off the engine and turned toward him. The playfulness in his gaze instantly faded into an expression of attentive concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah... yeah, I’m fine,” Jisung lied, his voice a notch higher than usual, swallowing dryly as he tried desperately to pull himself together. He stared at the terracotta facade of the building with a subtle sense of vertigo before turning back to Minho. “Is... is there anyone else home?”

Minho let out a low, sweet laugh. He mistook the hesitation for the natural anxiety of a younger guy worried about being caught by roommates.

He reached out to gently stroke his chin, forcing Jisung to meet his gaze, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“No one. We have all the time in the world, baby,” he murmured in that velvety tone that sent Jisung’s heart back into overdrive.

The use of that pet name, spoken so naturally, swept away the surge of panic. Jisung let out a long breath, feeling the heat flush violently back into his cheeks.

He’s probably just a neighbor.

They got out of the car and headed up to the third floor.

No, wait... okay, maybe not.

Wait... 

Fuck!

His name… is Minho.

Oh…

Oh.

As soon as the apartment door shut behind them with a definitive click, the darkness of the entryway swallowed them whole. Minho reached out to flip the light switch, but Jisung didn't give him the chance.

By now...

He grabbed him by the lapels of his t-shirt and pushed him firmly against the wooden door. Minho let out a surprised sound, instantly smothered into a low groan as Jisung's lips claimed his with desperate eagerness, craving only to erase the weeks of void between them.

“Someone is definitely in a hurry...” Minho murmured between kisses. His hands slid quickly to Jisung's hips, gripping them tightly to pull him even closer against himself.

“You said we had all the time in the world,” Jisung whispered against his mouth, his voice raw with desire, as he slipped his fingers under Minho’s sweatshirt to find the warm, sculpted skin of his back once more. “And I don't want to waste a single second.”

Minho took his hand and led him down the dark hallway toward the bedroom. As they crossed the threshold, Jisung barely caught a glimpse of a room with a cozy atmosphere before the door was shut, leaving them wrapped in the dim light.

They collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of heavy breaths and hastily discarded clothes. Their garments hit the floor one after another. When Jisung found himself straddling him, with the faint light tracing the perfect contours of Minho's body, his broad chest and sculpted abdomen rising and falling wildly, he allowed himself a second to look at him.

Minho was simply breathtaking, powerful, yet entirely vulnerable to his touch.

“Look at you...” Jisung murmured, his voice husky as he slid his palms from Minho’s chest up to his neck. “You're beautiful, hyung.”

A visible shiver ran across Minho’s shoulders at that name. A light blush painted his cheekbones as his fingers dug into Jisung's hips, dragging him lower.

“Don't talk... come here,” Minho whispered, his cracked voice betraying how deeply that compliment had hit him.

Jisung smiled, instantly seizing his surrender. He reached out toward the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of lube that Minho pointed out to him by feel. He poured a generous amount onto his fingers and leaned over him, capturing his lips in a deep, possessive kiss, while his other hand slowly descended between Minho's legs.

When the first finger slowly slipped inside, Minho arched his back against the mattress, letting out a warm breath against Jisung's lips.

“Easy... relax for me,” Jisung murmured against his jawline. He added a second finger, moving with extreme slowness and rotating his wrist slightly to find the exact spot on his prostate that he knew would drive the older man crazy.

“Mmh... Jisung... ah,” Minho tilted his head back, his lips parted and his eyes glossy as they sought Jisung's in the dim light. His grip on Jisung's shoulders grew almost desperate. “Like that... you make hyung feel... so good...”

Hearing such a captivating and mature man completely yield under his touch, shamelessly seeking his approval, sent a devastating rush through Jisung's body. He prepped him with care, adding a third finger until he felt him grow entirely soft, welcoming, and trembling with desire beneath him.

Positioning himself between Minho's thighs, Jisung aligned his length with Minho's entrance. He kept his gaze locked onto those dark eyes as he slowly pushed inside, allowing Minho to adjust to the sensation of fullness.

Minho let out a high-pitched moan, long and delicious, closing his eyes as his legs instinctively wrapped around Jisung's waist to pull him even deeper. “Fuck... Jisung...”

Jisung held still for a moment, the breath catching in his throat at the intensity of that warm tightness. He leaned down to kiss Minho's eyelids, then his cheeks, before beginning to move with slow, deep, and steady thrusts.

“Look at me, Minho,” Jisung demanded. Minho forced his eyes open, his gaze hazy with pure pleasure.

“You're doing so well... taking everything so well,” Jisung praised him, quickening the pace. With every thrust, the sound of their sweat-glistening skin echoed through the quiet room. “Look how perfect you are for me.”

Minho buried his face in the crook of Jisung's neck, letting out increasingly loud, broken groans, unable to contain the tide crashing over him. “Y-yes... Jisung, don't stop... come inside me, please...”

Hearing him beg like that shattered every remaining trace of self-control in Jisung. He picked up the speed, driving hard and deep, holding Minho's hips firm with both hands. The rhythm grew frantic, a surge of hot ecstasy rushing up both their spines.

Jisung threw his head back, letting out a guttural sound as he felt Minho's body contract violently around his at the peak of the orgasm.

A few seconds later, overwhelmed by that visceral heat and the sound of Minho groaning his name, Jisung let himself go entirely, coming deep inside him with one final, long thrust.

He collapsed onto him, his chest heaving wildly, his forehead pressed against Minho’s damp shoulder. They remained united for long minutes, wrapped in a peaceful silence, as their heartbeats slowed down in unison.

When his breath finally settled back to normal, Jisung remained lying on top of Minho, soaking in the warmth and weight of the other's body, before slowly sliding off to the side.

Minho let out a soft sound of protest at the lost contact, but immediately turned toward him. He reached out to pull the light sheet over both of them and used his other hand to gently brush the sweat-soaked strands of hair from Jisung’s forehead.

“You alright?” Minho murmured, his voice beautifully raspy. His dark eyes shimmered in the bedroom's dim light, filled with a sweetness that made Jisung’s heart leap all over again.

“More than alright,” Jisung replied with a small smile, burying his face in the crook of Minho’s neck to breathe in his scent deeply.

Minho chuckled softly, a low vibration against his chest that Jisung felt distinctly. He began stroking Jisung's back in slow, circular motions. “You have no idea how many times I replayed that night from our trip in my head. Or how much I called myself an idiot for not asking for your number right away before falling asleep.”

Jisung raised his head to look at him, resting his chin on Minho's chest. “I swear to you I really meant to leave that note. When I found it in my pocket on the train, I literally wanted to throw myself out the window.”

“Thank goodness you didn't,” Minho said, smiling as he gave him a quick, affectionate kiss on the tip of his nose. “In the end, look at us. Fate brought you straight into my dance class.”

“Yeah... an insane coincidence,” Jisung murmured, cuddling even closer to him.

The heat of Minho’s body relaxed him immensely, melting away almost every trace of the shadow of tension he had been carrying since recognizing the building's facade.

Almost.

Minho continued to trace his fingertips down Jisung's spine, sending pleasant shivers through his body. He turned slightly toward the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of water to take a sip before handing it over to him.

“Here, drink a bit.”

Jisung propped himself up on his elbows, taking the bottle and greedily gulping down a few sorsi. He looked at Minho, who was watching him with an unbelievably soft and satisfied expression.

“What is it?” Jisung asked, feeling his cheeks warm under those dark eyes locked onto him.

“Nothing,” Minho replied, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek and pull him back down toward himself, trapping him in a tight hug beneath the sheets. “It’s just that I really love being with you. I missed you.”

Jisung rested his head on Minho’s chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. He smiled in the dark, letting himself be wrapped in that feeling of safety that only this man could give him.

“I missed you too, hyung... so much,” Jisung whispered, before closing his eyes and surrendering entirely to the moment.

The following morning, Jisung woke up before Minho. He slowly rose onto his elbows, watching the older man still sleeping on his stomach, serene and gorgeous with his hair disheveled on the pillow.

He smiled instinctively, but as soon as he slid out of bed barefoot, a sudden surge of unease crept in, making him feel subtly anxious. Without dwelling too much on that thought, he carefully gathered his clothes scattered across the floor and dressed quickly, trying not to make the slightest sound to avoid breaking the quiet of the room.

Before leaving, he caught sight of a slip of paper and a pen on a small table. With a quick hand, he scribbled a short message:

“I have to run to class!! Leaving you my number for real this time, call me when you wake up <3”

He made sure to place the note on the nightstand, right next to Minho, and cast one last uncertain glance at him. He padded across the room softly and walked down the hallway, almost holding his breath. Reaching the entrance, he slipped past the front door and closed it with extreme caution. Only once he was out on the landing did he put his shoes on, letting out a breath of relief, and hurried down the stairs to put distance between them as fast as possible.

A couple of hours later, Jisung found himself at their usual table in the campus café with Felix, clutching an iced Americano between his hands.

The moment Jisung set his cup on the table, Felix stopped scrolling through his phone screen. He scrutinized him from head to toe with hawk-like eyes, taking in the rigid posture, the slight blush on his cheeks, and his friend’s visibly shaken aura.

Felix’s mouth dropped open, and he slammed a hand on the table. “You had sex!” he exclaimed far too loudly, causing a couple of students at the next table to turn around.

Jisung jolted, nearly choking on his own saliva. “Ssh! Do you want to shout it louder? There are people here!”

“Don't change the subject!” Felix said, leaning forward with a devious grin and bright eyes. “I know that glow, Han Jisung. It’s written all over your face! You look like someone who slept two hours and is thrilled about it. Who was it? A guy from your course?”

Jisung’s heart took a sudden nosedive. For a second, panic threatened to choke him completely.

He decided to stay vague, launching into a desperate half-truth.

“Yeah, well... about that...” Jisung stammered, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding his gaze. “I might... I might have run into the guy from this summer again.”

Felix froze completely, his eyebrows shooting up in shock. “What?! That guy? The one whose number you lost?!”

“Yeah, him,” Jisung admitted with an embarrassed, strained smile, feeling his cheeks burn.

“How is that even possible? How did you find him again?” Felix asked, curiosity sweeping away everything else. “You told me he was a lost cause, that you didn't even know where he lived or what he did for a living!”

“It was pure luck... a crazy coincidence,” Jisung replied, trying to weigh every single word so as not to give himself away. “We bumped into each other by chance in the city yesterday afternoon. When we saw each other, we were both completely shocked. We talked, cleared up the whole note misunderstanding, and... well, one thing led to another, and I ended up at his place.”

Felix shook his head with an expression caught between disbelief and amusement. “I can't believe it. Fate really is something else. So you hooked up with the old man again?”

“Don't call him an old man!” Jisung snapped back playfully with feigned sternness, chuckling nervously as cold sweat washed over his back. “I swear he’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. It’s not just the sex, Felix... I genuinely feel good with him. He makes me feel safe, he listens to me... he’s sweet, but when we’re alone, he knows exactly what he wants.”

Felix watched him for a few seconds, his teasing smirk softening into a genuinely happy expression for his best friend. “Well, I can tell you’re head over heels for him, Ji. Your eyes have been sparkling ever since you sat down. I'm happy for you, really... even if it still feels weird to think he's my brother's age.”

At those words, Jisung had to exert every ounce of willpower not to spit out the coffee he had just sipped. He broke into a violent coughing fit, nodding weakly.

“Yeah... your brother’s age,” Jisung murmured, his voice barely a breath as he swallowed a gulp of air. “A really... funny coincidence.”

The following days flew by in a sort of golden bubble. For Jisung, the monotonous university routine had suddenly transformed into something tolerable, even light. Lecture hours passed quickly between half-taken notes and his phone screen continuously lighting up at regular intervals.

Minho would send him photos taken on the sly between dance classes, short voice messages with his usual sweet, tongue-in-cheek voice that made Jisung smile to himself like an idiot in the middle of the classroom, or seemingly random questions about what he felt like eating that evening.

They saw each other almost every day. Sometimes they carved out a couple of hours for a quick dinner at some quiet little restaurant tucked away in the alleyways behind campus, peaceful spots where they could sit in the most private corner, brush knees under the table, and exchange knowing glances over a bowl of piping hot ramen and a shared dish.

Other times, though, they went straight home. And for Jisung, every time he crossed the threshold of that apartment, the outside world simply seemed to cease to exist.

There was always, it was true, that precise second when a sharp spike of anxiety pierced his stomach. But all it took was for Minho to turn toward him, the lazy touch of his fingers on the nape of his neck, or a warm, unhurried kiss pressed to his temple, for any fear or guilt to fade into the background.

One evening, after having dinner ordered in, they found themselves on the living room sofa. The room was lit only by the faint glow of the television and a corner lamp. Jisung was curled up against Minho’s side, his head resting on Minho's chest, while Minho’s fingers moved in slow circles through his hair in a hypnotic, soothing gesture.

Jisung silently observed Minho's profile, his sharp jawline, and the relaxed expression he showed only in those moments of intimacy. Then, feigning a completely casual curiosity to deflect the weight of his own thoughts, he decided to bring up the subject.

The flicker of the TV illuminated the dark living room in bursts. Jisung lay with his back against Minho’s chest, carried away by that sense of warm torpor that almost made his eyes slip shut. Minho’s fingers brushed against his hip under his t-shirt in a slow, automatic motion.

Jisung turned his head slightly upward, tracing the line of Minho's jawline with his gaze.

“Hyung?”

“Mmh?” Minho didn’t even open his eyes, merely tapping his fingers twice on Jisung's waist.

“Do you... always live here?”

Minho half-opened one eye, looking down at him with an expression somewhere between sleepy and amused. “Why? Do you hate the couch?”

“No, dummy,” Jisung chuckled, giving him a gentle nudge with his elbow, even as his heart took a little leap in his chest. “It’s just... I don’t know. It feels strange to me. We’ve been staying here for days now, but it doesn’t quite feel like your place. Your stuff isn't even around, except for your dance clothes.”

Minho let out a long sigh, dropping his head back against the backrest.

“Because my place is a total construction zone,” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep. “They tore down the bathroom and kitchen three weeks ago. Dust everywhere, construction workers at eight in the morning... a total nightmare.”

“So you’re staying here?”

“So I set up camp at my brother’s,” Minho replied nonchalantly, resuming stroking his hair. “Besides, he’s always out and about between uni, his boyfriend like he is now, and friends, and this place is ten minutes from the academy. Much more convenient than commuting from the suburbs.”

Jisung froze for a fraction of a second. He swallowed hard, immediately hiding his face against Minho’s neck so he wouldn't see the look that must have been on his face right then.

“Do you and your brother look alike?” Jisung asked, trying to keep his tone as neutral and uninterested as possible.

Minho chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through his chest beneath Jisung’s cheek. “Not a chance. He’s much younger, your age. Why the sudden curiosity?”

“Just because. To know who I should thank for the couch.”

Minho grabbed his chin with two fingers, forcing him to look up at him. In his dark eyes was a warm, playful, yet tremendously sweet light.

“Thank me for keeping you on it,” he breathed, just inches from his lips, before leaning in to steal a slow, deep kiss that robbed Jisung of every remaining breath and thought.

“You’re distracted again tonight, though,” Minho murmured, his fingers now playing lazily with Jisung’s dark hair, lightly scratching the nape of his neck.

“I’m not distracted,” Jisung lied, looking up to stare at the sharp profile of Minho's jaw. “I’m just... thinking.”

“About what?” Minho asked, turning his head to lock his dark, piercing eyes onto the younger boy’s. A lopsided smirk tugged at his lips. “Good things, I hope. Or do I need to try harder to make sure your head is completely empty when you’re with me?”

Jisung felt a rush of heat shoot straight to his cheeks. Beneath that mature, reassuring aura, Minho knew exactly which buttons to push to make him feel exposed and entirely at his mercy.

“You’re an idiot,” Jisung muttered, hiding his face against his neck to deeply inhale his clean scent. “I was just thinking about how strange all of this is. How we lost touch on vacation and how I found you again by pure chance. Sometimes I’m almost afraid it’s all too good to be true.”

Minho stopped stroking his hair for a moment. His hand moved down to Jisung’s cheek, forcing him to turn his face back toward him. Minho’s expression had turned frighteningly soft, filled with a genuine sweetness that sent Jisung’s heart racing at a million miles an hour.

“There’s nothing strange about it, sweetheart,” Minho said in a deep, velvety voice, brushing his thumb against Jisung's lower lip. “I searched for you all over the city for weeks, too, you know? I thought I was going crazy. I have no intention of letting you slip away a second time.”

He tilted his head slightly, and his lips sought Jisung’s in another slow, warm kiss. Jisung let out a soft sigh against his mouth, reaching his arms around Minho's waist to pull him even closer.

In those moments, buried in the arms of a man who knew exactly how to make him feel desired and safe, the weight of the secret he carried sank into nothingness.

At least until Jisung’s phone lit up the coffee table with a sudden beep.

The display turned on, showing a notification from Felix:

"Hey Jisungie! Dinner at my place tomorrow night? My brother’s will be there too, so come by so I can finally introduce you to him and you can stop making that face every time I mention his name!"

Jisung pulled away from the kiss abruptly, his breath catching in his throat as if he had swallowed a piece of ice. His eyes widened as he stared at the words printed on the screen. Minho looked at him in confusion, noticing the sudden drain of color from his face.

“Everything okay, Jisung?” Minho asked, knitting his brows slightly. “Who is it?”

Jisung swallowed hard on nothing, instinctively reaching out to cover the phone screen with his palm before Minho could read the text.

“N-Nothing!” he exclaimed, his voice a pitch higher than normal. “Just... just a friend of mine. He was asking me something about tomorrow’s classes.”

Minho scanned him for a few seconds with a look somewhere between incredulous and amused, sensing his strange nervousness but choosing not to press further. He fondly ruffled Jisung's hair and stood up from the couch.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” he said, extending a hand to help him up. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

That night, however, Jisung barely slept. He lay awake staring at the shadows on the ceiling, listening to Minho’s calm, steady breathing beside him, consumed by a rising tide of panic. Declining Felix’s invitation would look suspicious, but accepting meant walking head-first toward the gallows. In the end, exhausted by anxiety, he sent a terse message of agreement before dawn broke.

The following day passed in an agonizing blur. When evening came, Jisung found himself frozen in front of Felix’s apartment door. His palms were slick with sweat, and his heart was pounding so hard against his ribs that it drowned out every sound on the landing.

Take a deep breath, Jisung. Act natural. You can do this.

He squared his shoulders and knocked.

After a few seconds, the door swung open, revealing a beaming Felix wearing a slightly goofy cooking apron and holding a ladle in his hand.

“Ji! Finally! Come in, come in!” Felix said, pulling him inside by the arm and shutting the door behind him. “You’re right on time. I’m almost done preparing, I was just—”

Stepping past the entryway, the view of the living room opened up completely.

Minho was there. Standing next to the table with the sleeves of his dark shirt rolled up to his forearms and a glass of water in hand. At the exact moment Jisung crossed the threshold, Minho looked up, relaxed, ready to greet his brother’s guest.

“Minho, this is Jisung, my best friend!” Felix announced enthusiastically, pointing at him with the ladle.

In a single second, the atmosphere in the room froze solid.

Minho’s eyes went wide, locking in mid-motion with the glass still suspended in midair. His usual composed expression crumbled instantly, replaced by sheer shock as his dark eyes darted between Felix and Jisung.

Jisung’s heart stopped. He felt the blood drain from his face, but he knew he couldn’t afford to break down. He had to deliver the performance of his life.

Before Minho could let slip even a single incriminating syllable, Jisung took a swift step forward. He forced a tight, far too formal smile and extended his hand toward him with rigid courtesy.

“Nice to meet you, Minho,” Jisung said, making a massive effort to keep his voice from trembling. “Felix has told me so much about you.”

Jisung’s gaze was a silent, desperate plea: Please, play along with me.

Pretending nothing had ever happened, greeting him like a stranger with a cold handshake, was pure torture. Not even a day had passed since he had been lying in his bed; he couldn’t erase the memory of those same hands caressing him, holding him with passion. Those nights spent together had been without a doubt the most intense of his life... and now he had to pretend he had never even laid a finger on him.

Minho remained motionless for two long seconds, staring first at Jisung’s outstretched hand and then into his terrified eyes.

Then, like the adult he was, he slowly composed his expression, though a flash of profound confusion continued to gleam in his eyes. He reached out and shook Jisung’s hand. The touch of his warm skin sent an electric jolt straight down the younger man’s spine.

“Nice to meet you, Jisung,” Minho replied in a low voice, holding his grip a second longer than necessary. “It’s... really a pleasure to meet you.”

Throughout dinner, Felix bustled back and forth from the kitchen, entirely oblivious to the static electricity that made the air in the room almost unbreathable. He kept talking a mile a minute, sharing anecdotes and asking for opinions on the food, while Jisung desperately tried to swallow a few bites without choking.

Every time their eyes met across the table, Minho stared at him with a depth and intensity that made Jisung’s hands shake.

For his part, Minho was in a state of complete shock. He had never talked to Felix about Jisung. They had a twelve-year age gap, and Minho had never felt comfortable sharing the details of his sex life with his little brother, who to him would always remain the baby of the family to be protected. Never in a million years could he have imagined that the guy who had turned his head upside down that summer, and who only the night before was whispering his name between the sheets as he penetrated him, was none other than Felix’s inseparable best friend.

When Felix got up from the table to head into the kitchen to make coffee, a heavy, leaden silence settled over the room.

Minho leaned slightly across the table, dropping his voice to a husky whisper. “Jisung.”

Jisung flinched, tightening his grip on his napkin and staring at him wide-eyed. “Minho, please... I’ll explain everything later, I swear.”

“So this is the thirty-four-year-old guy you found again?” Minho asked, his dark eyes flashing with an indecipherable expression, somewhere between amused and utterly stunned. “An old man, as my little brother keeps calling me?”

A burning blush crept up Jisung’s face, spreading from his cheekbones right down to his neck. “I never called you that, it was Felix! I swear to you that to me you’re the most—”

“It’s almost ready!” Felix’s voice shouted from the kitchen, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Minho leaned back against the headrest of his chair, but a lopsided, distinctly mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“After dinner,” Minho murmured under his breath just before his brother stepped back into the room, “we’re going to my place. And you’re going to explain to me in detail why you went to all this trouble to avoid telling me who you were.”

When dinner finally came to an end and they finished clearing the table, Jisung’s first desperate avenue of escape opened up.

Minho placed the last glass in the sink, dried his hands with a dish towel, and looked at his brother. “Lix, I’m heading out. I need to get back to my place tonight; I have a couple of errands to run in that neighborhood tomorrow morning.”

“Already? But it’s early!” Felix protested, before his eyes landed on Jisung, who stood stiffly by the door with his hoodie already half-on, ready to bolt. “Wait... Ji, you live around there too! Minho, you can give Jisung a ride, right? That way he doesn’t have to catch the bus alone at this hour.”

Jisung’s heart leaped into his throat. “N-No! Don't worry about it, Felix, there's really no need!” Jisung rushed to say, waving his hands in panic. “I’ll take the bus, really! I don’t want to bother your brother, he must be tired and...”

“What bother!” Felix cut him off, practically shoving him by the shoulders toward Minho with his usual overbearing affection. “He lives two blocks from your place! Come on, go with him and stop being difficult.”

Minho watched the scene with an intensely amused gaze, visibly enjoying seeing Jisung flounder in panic. “No bother at all, Jisung,” Minho said, emphasizing the name with a far too formal note. “I’d be happy to drive you.”

“Thanks for dinner, Lixie! I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” Jisung called out, practically fleeing out the door while Felix waved goodbye, completely oblivious to the fact that his best friend was getting into the car with his brother to go straight home together.

No sooner had the two of them found shelter inside Minho’s car than Jisung didn't even have time to buckle his seatbelt before Minho turned off the interior lights, leaned over him, and pinned him against the seat. His hand settled on the nape of Jisung’s neck, gently curling into his hair as their eyes met in the dim light.

“Nice to meet you, Minho,” the older man teased, using the exact same rigid tone Jisung had used back in the apartment. His voice was deep, vibrating with amusement and barely restrained tension. “Truly an outstanding performance, baby.”

“Minho hyung, please!” Jisung protested, his face on fire and his heart hammering wildly against his ribs. “I was in total panic! I had no idea you were his brother until I walked into that building the first time, and then... and then when I figured it all out, it was too late, we had already slept together and I was terrified of how Felix might react if I told him just like that!”

Minho listened in silence, letting the younger boy vent all his built-up anxiety. Then, his expression softened. He let out a low, velvety laugh that vibrated through Jisung’s chest, tilting his head to press a warm, slow kiss right against the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a mess, Han Jisung,” Minho murmured, brushing his thumb against his cheek. “Do you really think I give a damn about what my brother says? I wanted you. And I want you now.”

Relief washed over Jisung like a warm wave. All the paranoia, fear, and tension from the past few days vanished in an instant before Minho’s unwavering confidence.

“Let’s get one thing clear, though,” Minho added, leaning close to his ear with a husky whisper that sent shivers straight down Jisung’s spine. “We’re going to my place now. And you’re going to make it up to me for shaking my hand like I was a random stranger.”

“Right away, hyung,” Jisung answered with a lopsided smile and his breath already short, reaching his hands out to grip Minho’s hips as the car finally pulled away toward home.

The car pulled to a stop in the building’s underground garage, and for the entire long elevator ride up to the third floor, neither of them said a single word. Minho kept his fingers firmly laced with Jisung’s, running them across his palm in a slow, methodical rhythm that ignited a visceral warmth all through the younger boy’s body. The floor numbers ticked upward on the display, marked only by the tempo of their ragged breathing.

The moment the apartment door clicked shut definitively behind them, Minho didn’t even have time to reach for the light switch before Jisung grabbed him by the collar of his dark shirt and pulled him in hard, closing every inch of distance between them and devouring his lips in a ravenous kiss, desperate for relief after the grueling wait of all those hours spent pretending they were strangers.

Minho let out a low noise in the back of his throat, letting the keys drop onto the entryway table with a metallic clatter in the dark. His hands instinctively slid up Jisung’s hips, gripping him tight and lifting him a few inches off the floor to press their hips flush together.

“Someone’s eager to be forgiven, aren’t they?” Minho murmured between kisses.

“Shut up, hyung...” Jisung gasped against his neck, sinking his teeth gently into the warm skin of Minho's jawline, feeling his body shudder and flex beneath him. “Take me to the bedroom. Now.”

Minho chuckled softly, a warm vibration against Jisung’s skin, before swiftly guiding him toward the bedroom.

They tumbled onto the large bed in a frantic mess of limbs and half-removed clothing. Minho’s shirt ended up on the floor along with Jisung’s hoodie, exposing bare skin beneath the dim, silvery moonlight filtering through the window.

As Jisung straddled his hips, he paused for a moment to look down at the older man lying beneath him. The moonlight outlined the perfect contour of Minho's chest, rising and falling rapidly.

“You’re so handsome, Minho hyung,” Jisung said, his voice husky as his hands slid down Minho's abdomen, coming to rest at the waistband of his pants. “Look at the way you’re looking at me... it’s driving me crazy.”

A faint flush dusted Minho’s cheeks as he tilted his head back against the pillow, letting out a shaky breath at the praise. “Do... do whatever you want, Jisung. I’m yours.”

Jisung didn't need to be told twice. He stripped Minho out of his remaining clothes and shifted lower down his body, lingering at his chest first. Leaning down, Jisung caught one of Minho’s sensitive, hardened nipples between his lips, sucking on it firmly while flicking his tongue over the peak.

Minho arched off the mattress instantly, his hands tangling in Jisung’s hair as a high, desperate gasp broke from his lips. “Ah—Ji... Jisung...”

Jisung hummed against his skin, pleased with the reaction, and rolled his thumb and forefinger over the other nipple, pinching it gently before switching sides to give it the same ravenous attention. Every flick of his tongue and pull of his lips sent sharp tremors straight through Minho’s lower body, causing his hips to twitch upward in search of friction.

Sensing his readiness, Jisung slid further down, pressing soft kisses along Minho’s stomach until he reached his aching length. Taking Minho into his hand, Jisung leaned in and took the sensitive tip into his warm mouth, swirling his tongue around it before taking him deeper, setting a slow, deliberate pace.

Minho’s breath hitched, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him. “F-fuck... Jisung... that feels so good...” Minho moaned, his composure completely unraveling under the heat of Jisung’s mouth.

Jisung looked up through his lashes, savoring the sight of Minho completely undone beneath him, head thrown back, lips parted, breathing coming in ragged hitches. He stroked him with his hand while bobbing his head with steady, wet friction, making Minho whine softly and arch his back.

After taking him to the very edge, Jisung slowly pulled back, leaving Minho slick and panting desperately for more.

Reaching over, Jisung retrieved the bottle from the nightstand and set about prepping him with careful, patient thoroughness, continuing to lean down to suck and bite at Minho’s nipples to keep him distracted by pleasure. He savored every muffled moan the older man tried in vain to stifle against the pillow, until he felt him grow soft, yielding, and completely eager beneath his fingers.

Positioning himself between Minho's thighs, Jisung pushed into him in one slow, deep motion. Minho arched his back off the mattress, his legs wrapping instinctively around Jisung’s waist to pull him even deeper as a high, delicious gasp escaped his lips, filling the room.

“Fuck...” Jisung swore under his breath, taking a firm grip on Minho’s hips and setting a steady, relentless rhythm that made them both tremble.

“Don’t stop... ahh, good boy, you’re doing so well...” Minho pleaded beneath him, abandoning all defense, letting himself be guided and completely dominated by the boy twelve years his junior. “Please...”

Minho’s praise and sweet submission pushed Jisung past his limits. Every thrust grew more intense, every moan from Minho a confirmation of his complete control over this captivating man.

Jisung leaned down over him, capturing his lips in a possessive kiss as he picked up the pace, until ecstasy swept over them both in a warm, lingering climax that left them utterly exhausted, collapsed against one another in the newfound quiet of the bedroom.

When both their breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, Jisung settled with his head resting on Minho’s bare chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Minho pulled the sheet up over them both to block out the chill of the night, before his fingers began gently stroking Jisung’s still-damp hair, tracing small, soothing circles through the dark strands.

Jisung closed his eyes, letting out a long, contented sigh. Every lingering trace of tension had completely evaporated, replaced by that unique warmth only Minho’s arms could give him.

“So...” Minho murmured after a while, his voice lazy, warm, and thick with sleepiness. “When are you planning on telling Felix?”

Jisung stiffened slightly at the name, but the slow touch of Minho’s hand trailing down his spine instantly melted the tension away. He made a faint face against Minho's skin, chuckling softly.

“Maybe not tomorrow,” Jisung answered with a lopsided smile, raising his head from Minho's chest to meet his dark eyes in the dim light. “First let me process the fact that my ideal man, the guy who completely turned my world upside down this summer... is my best friend’s overprotective brother.”

Minho smiled, an infinitely soft expression warming the corners of his eyes. He reached up to place a warm palm on Jisung’s cheek, brushing his thumb against his lower lip before leaning in.

“Take all the time you need, baby,” he whispered against his lips, pressing a sweet, deep, lingering kiss that sent Jisung’s heart racing all over again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jisung returned the kiss, then buried his face back into the crook of Minho’s neck, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him even closer. Minho lightly licked the top of his ear, making him squeak with a quiet giggle, before wrapping his arms tight around him and closing his eyes.

The following days rushed by, but Jisung’s peace was destined to be short-lived.

It was a rainy late afternoon, and the dance academy class had just ended. The students were clearing out of the room while Jisung lingered near the stereo under the pretense of helping Minho put away the equipment, savoring those few minutes of knowing glances and stolen touches before saying goodbye.

Right at that moment, the studio's glass door opened with a squeak.

“Hey, Minho! I brought you those documents you forgot on the—”

Felix’s voice cut off mid-sentence.

Standing on the threshold with an envelope in his hands, Felix’s eyes went wide, his gaze darting in disbelief between his brother and his best friend. Jisung, towels still draped over his shoulders and a water bottle in hand, froze on the spot, feeling the blood drain from his face all at once.

Felix took a step forward, pointing an index finger at Jisung. “Ji?! What are you doing here?”

“I... I...” Jisung stammered, his mind completely wiped blank by panic.

“You told me you started a dance class with Hyunjin, but you never told me you came here!” Felix exclaimed, as the confusion on his face gave way to a sudden moment of revelation. Felix gasped, slapping a hand against his forehead. “Oh. My. God.”

Minho kept a completely impassive expression, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the scene with a subtle, amused smirk he could barely hold back. “Any problem, Lix?”

“Dinner the other night!” Felix continued loudly, ignoring his brother and locking his eyes on Jisung, who looked ready to faint. “That’s why you were so stiff! That’s why you shook his hand looking like a man on his way to the gallows! You’re taking lessons from my brother and you were embarrassed as hell!”

Jisung caught his breath, realizing only in that second the direction Felix’s thoughts had taken.

He thinks I was embarrassed just because he’s my teacher.

“E-Exactly!” Jisung rushed to play along, clinging to that excuse like a lifesaver in the middle of a storm. “Lix, I swear... I’m a disaster at dancing! When I found out the teacher was your brother, I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. The other night at dinner I didn’t know how to tell you—I was mortified to look so terrible in front of a professional like him!”

Felix shook his head, letting out a laugh.

“You’re such an idiot, Han Jisung!” Felix chuckled, stepping closer to give him an affectionate shove on the shoulder. “My brother sometimes can seems mean, it’s true, but it’s not like he’s gonna eat you! I mean... unless you mess up the steps twenty times in a row.”

Minho let out a quiet, deep chuckle, flashing Jisung a loaded look that sent a burning blush straight up the younger man’s cheeks.

“Actually, Jisung does pretty well,” Minho interjected smoothly, his gaze fixed on Jisung’s eyes. “He’s just a little tense. We need to work a lot on his posture... and his flexibility.”

At those words, spoken in that bold double entendre, Jisung had to exert tremendous willpower not to choke on his own spit.

“See?” Felix said, completely oblivious to the sultry subtext that had just passed between the two. “Anyway, next time just tell me right away, okay? At least we would’ve avoided that whole awkward comedy routine at dinner!”

“Yeah...” Jisung murmured with a strained smile, while behind Felix’s back, Minho slowly licked his lower lip with a distinctly mischievous air. “Next time I’ll tell you right away.”

“Anyway, since I’m here,” Felix began, breaking the standoff as he handed the envelope to Minho, “Mom told me to give you these house documents. And I was thinking: why don’t the three of us go get bubble tea together? Since I know you two know each other now!”

Jisung’s mouth went bone dry again. The thought of going out as a trio with his best friend and the man he was sleeping with sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Minho took the envelope, glancing briefly at the contents before offering Felix a calm, flawless smile.

“I’ll pass, Lix. I need to take Jisung through some extra stretching before we lock up the studio,” Minho replied casually, crossing his arms. “His back muscles are still too stiff, and if I don’t fix it tonight, he’s going to hurt himself during the next lesson.”

Felix looked at his brother, then at Jisung, making a face of mock pity for his friend. “Ah... poor Ji. I guess he’s really singled you out. Well, I’m off then! See you at home tonight, Minho. Bye Ji, don’t let him kill you!”

“Bye Lix...” Jisung mumbled, waving a trembling hand until the glass door closed and Felix’s footsteps faded down the hallway.

As soon as silence returned to rule the mirrored studio, Jisung let out a long, exhausted sigh of relief, dropping his head back.

“We made it by a hair... I swear I was about to pass out,” Jisung whispered, opening his eyes again.

But Minho didn’t answer with words. He was already moving.

In a few feline strides, he closed the distance between them, grabbing Jisung by the hips and pressing him firmly, yet gently, against the large mirrored wall. The cool glass against his back startled Jisung, but it was the immediate warmth of Minho’s body that stole his breath entirely.

Minho leaned over him, digging his fingers into his waist and brushing his lips against his ear.

“So I’m a ‘mean’ instructor, am I?” Minho murmured, his voice dropped to a whisper that sent shivers straight down Jisung’s spine. “And were you really that ashamed of me?”

“Minho, please...” Jisung gasped, making a weak attempt at resistance that melted the moment Minho’s lips found the sensitive spot on his neck, leaving behind a warm kiss and a light bite. “It was the first thing that came to my mind! What else could I have told him?”

“You have an incredible imagination, sweetheart,” Minho whispered right against his skin, his lips trailing up to Jisung’s chin before fixing him with a gaze that flickered with a dark, dangerously attractive glint. “But we’re alone now. And since I told my brother we needed to do extra stretching... I’d say we shouldn’t disappoint him. And he was wrong about one thing—I am going to eat you up.”

Jisung let out a breathy laugh, grabbing Minho by the lapels of his shirt and pulling him close to erase those last few inches between them. “You’re shameless, hyung.”

“Only with you,” Minho whispered, before capturing his lips in a deep, possessive kiss that made Jisung forget every fear, every secret, and any thought of tomorrow.

The next few days flew by. Jisung and Minho did their best to maintain their usual safe distance in public, but the intimacy between them couldn't help but leave small cracks, invisible to everyone except those who knew them really well.

The first real alarm bell went off one afternoon at the campus coffee shop.

Felix and Jisung were sitting at their usual table between classes, buried under crumpled notes and cups. Jisung was leaning back in his chair with an openly distracted air and a soft smile playing on his lips as he typed a reply under the table.

When he looked up, his eyes met Felix’s. His best friend was staring at him over his coffee cup, his eyes narrowed in a strangely focused expression.

“What?” Jisung asked, instinctively shoving the phone into his pocket with a motion that was a little too quick.

“Nothing,” Felix replied, tilting his head. “It’s just that this is the third time today you’ve zoned out staring into space with that dopey look on your face. The last time you were this distracted was right after you got back from vacation.”

Jisung felt a dull thud in his chest and his throat went dry. “Come on, I’m just exhausted, Lix. I stayed up late last night...”

Felix leaned forward slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Late with who? Does it have something to do with that guy? The older one, thirty-four?”

Jisung felt a sting of anxiety tighten in his stomach. He immediately bent over his bag on the floor, pretending to search desperately for something just to break eye contact. “Look, we’ve seen each other a couple of times, but really... there’s nothing to tell, we just want to take things slow,” he brushed it off, his voice tight, before coming back up and grabbing a random sheet of paper. 

“Anyway, did you understand anything from the last history chapter? I don’t even know where to start studying for the exam.”

“Jisung, don’t change the subject,” Felix chuckled, though his brows knitted together slightly a moment later, as if an unexpected piece of a puzzle had lodged itself in his mind. “Speaking of last night, though... my brother didn’t get home until late. He said he had to fix some equipment at the academy, but he was in a strangely... gentle mood. Usually when he works that late he’s ready to bite off the head of anyone who crosses his path.”

For a fraction of a second, Jisung froze, his spoon halting over his cup. He swallowed a sip of scalding tea to buy time, hoping the steam was enough to hide the sudden heat flushing his cheeks and the uneven rhythm of his breathing.

“Well... good for him, right?” he mumbled, shaking his head and fidgeting with the corner of his notebook to hide his trembling fingers. “Maybe classes are going well.”

Felix stared at him for a few more agonizing seconds, picking up on his strange nervousness but misinterpreting the reason behind it. There was no concrete suspicion in his mind yet, the thought that his best friend and his brother might be involved hadn't even crossed his mind, but his intuition was picking up on a subtle false note in the air.

“Yeah, maybe,” Felix said at last, dropping the topic as he went back to scrolling through his phone. “Anyway, next time you see each other in class try not to act so guarded. The other night at dinner it looked like you were afraid he’d jump down your throat any second.”

“I’m not afraid of your brother,” Jisung muttered under his breath, letting out a tiny sigh of relief as the danger seemed to pass.

But deep down, Jisung knew all too well that continuing to hide was becoming an increasingly dangerous gamble. Every stolen glance, every clumsy attempt to dodge the topic, and every subtle gesture,if done in front of Felix, risked becoming the final clue that would bring the whole house of cards crashing down.

In the late afternoon, Jisung was over at Felix’s apartment to study. The two of them were stretched out on the living room rug, surrounded by scattered books and loose papers, when the metallic click of a key in the lock announced the front door opening.

Minho walked in, dropping his keys into the usual dish by the entryway. He was dressed in comfortable workout clothes and had his gym bag slung over one shoulder.

“Hey,” Minho called out, stepping into the hallway.

“Hey, hyung,” Felix replied without taking his eyes off his notes. “How was class?”

“Brutal. Those kids are wearing me out,” Minho muttered, pausing for a second beside the couch.

His eyes inevitably drifted toward Jisung. Though he was doing his best to maintain a neutral expression, his gaze softened for a split second. It was an imperceptible shift, but enough to make Jisung jump slightly, immediately ducking his head over his books to avoid giving himself away.

“Jisung,” Minho said, his tone formal yet overly calm. “You left your water bottle in the gym office the other day. I put it in your backpack, remember to grab it before you leave.”

“Ah... right! Thanks, Minho-ssi. I forgot all about it,” Jisung stammered, keeping his eyes down to avoid making eye contact.

Minho gave a slight nod and vanished toward his bedroom to take a shower.

The second the bedroom door clicked shut, Felix pushed himself up on his elbows and turned slowly toward Jisung. His usual cheerful, playful demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a strangely focused look.

“Since when does he call you 'Jisung' instead of 'Han-ssi' or 'Felix's friend'?” the younger asked, narrowing his eyes. “And since when does he care about bringing you things you forgot?”

The blood ran cold in Jisung’s veins. Minho’s thoughtfulness, however innocent in intention, had felt completely out of place to an observant brother.

“What? It’s nothing... he probably just recognized it was mine during class the other day and thought he’d bring it back since he knew I was here,” Jisung lied, attempting a little laugh that sounded painfully fake.

“Yeah, but my brother never does those kinds of favors for anyone,” Felix countered in a low voice, almost thinking aloud. “The other night at dinner you were as tight as a guitar string. Today you’re exchanging these weird looks... and you still won’t tell me who this damn thirty-four-year-old guy you’re seeing is.”

Felix fell silent for a few seconds as the pieces in his head began to inexorably draw closer together. The coincidence in age, Minho’s unusual gentleness, Jisung’s constant jumpiness. The idea that his best friend was sleeping with his brother still seemed too absurd to entertain, but the doubt was now a visible crack.

“Ji...” Felix murmured, locking eyes with him with disarming intensity. “You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?”

Jisung’s heart slammed violently against his ribs. He felt his palms go cold as he tried desperately to hold his friend’s gaze without breaking.

“Lix... what are you talking about?” Jisung stammered, forcing a bewildered smile as he grabbed a highlighter off the floor to give himself something to do. “What would I hide from you? I told you, the guy I’m seeing is someone I met this summer... it’s still fresh, I just want to see where it goes before I start making introductions or telling everyone about it!”

Felix didn't stop staring at him. There was no anger in his face, only deep perplexity. 

“I don’t know, Ji,” Felix said finally, his voice dropping, tinged with a subtle disappointment. “We’re best friends. If there’s something making you uncomfortable, or if you’ve gotten yourself into a weird situation... you know you can tell me, right?”

“I know! Of course I know,” Jisung rushed to reply, feeling a sharp pang of guilt right in his stomach.

Just then, the sound of the bathroom door opening cut the conversation short. Minho stepped out, his hair still damp, wearing a dark t-shirt and loose pants. Effortlessly casual, he walked past the living room toward the kitchen, leaving behind a distinct trail of his body wash. The exact same scent Jisung had been wearing since that morning.

The precise moment Minho brushed past them, Felix’s eyes darted from his brother’s figure to Jisung’s neck, and then back toward the hallway.

Jisung noticed and froze. Instinctively, he adjusted the collar of his hoodie to cover a specific spot on his collarbone where the fabric had slightly shifted. The gesture was so fast and so blatantly defensive that Felix didn't miss it.

An imperceptible shift passed over Felix’s face. His eyebrows raised just a fraction, but he didn't say a word. The suspicion was taking on an all-too-clear shape.

“Anyway... it’s getting late,” Felix murmured with a sudden, unnatural calmness, beginning to gather his papers from the rug without looking Jisung in the eye anymore. “Maybe it’s better if we keep studying tomorrow at campus.”

“Yeah... you’re right,” Jisung said softly, stuffing his books into his bag with hands that trembled slightly. “See you tomorrow, Lix.”

As Jisung stood up to head for the entrance, Minho peeked out from the kitchen, meeting his gaze with a questioning look, picking up instantly on the sudden tension in the air. Jisung gave him a tiny shake of his head before crossing the threshold and shutting the door behind him.

Minho’s apartment was wrapped in a muffled silence, broken only by their ragged breathing as it gradually slowed down. The faint glow of the streetlights filtered through the slats of the blinds, tracing soft golden stripes across the bare skin of their still-warm bodies.

After the tension that had built up with Felix the day before, the intimacy of this night had been almost desperate, a visceral need to take refuge in each other, to find that perfect alignment where guilt and the rest of the world faded into nothingness.

Jisung was lying face down on the bed, his forehead buried in the soft pillow, his muscles completely limp. The surrender after climax had been total; his mind, finally free of paranoia, was letting itself be lulled by a sweet, heavy numbness. His eyelids were weighted, far too tired to stay open.

Minho, lying beside him propped up on one elbow, couldn't take his eyes off him. In his dark gaze, there was only boundless, devoted affection. He reached out and slid his fingertips down Jisung’s back, following the delicate line of his spine all the way to the curve of his hips, brushing against skin scented with his fragrance.

“Do you want hyung to change your clothes?” Minho asked in a low whisper, letting his velvety voice resonate in the dim room.

“....no.....” Jisung mumbled into the sheets, letting out a lazy little grumble. He tried to tug the edge of the sheet over himself, too exhausted and consumed by laziness to even lift an arm.

Minho chuckled softly, a warm sound that vibrated in the air between them. His hand moved lower, resting his open palm against Jisung’s bare thigh. He stroked it with an almost reverent slowness and care, savoring the warmth of his skin and that striking contrast between the boy’s vulnerability and the absolute hold Jisung had over him.

“I'll change your clothes for you..” Minho whispered with infinite tenderness. Leaning down slightly over him, he placed a soft, lingering kiss on Jisung’s bare shoulder, lingering to taste his skin before reaching for the chair beside the bed to grab a soft t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

With careful movements, Minho began to dress him, gently lifting his arms so as not to wake him completely, running his hand over him with every movement, handling him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

Meanwhile, just a few blocks away, the sound of Felix’s quick footsteps echoed on the pavement.

His shift at the venue had ended an hour early, and he had decided to make a quick detour to his brother’s apartment. In his hand, he held a bag containing a few items Minho had asked him to bring over, along with a copy of the spare keys. Before heading out, he had sent him a text to let him know he was dropping by, but Minho hadn't replied yet, he was probably in the shower or tied up with something.

As he turned the corner, Felix pulled his phone from his heavy jacket pocket to check for any updates. Shortly before leaving work, he had also texted Jisung to ask for advice on a study note for a university course, but his best friend hadn't answered either.

Strange that they’re both unreachable at the exact same time, he thought with a shrug, chalking it up to a simple coincidence.

He glanced up at the third-floor windows of Minho’s building. Sorting out the correct key from his ring, he prepared to walk up and simply leave the bag by the entryway before heading home.

The metal key turned in the front lock with two sharp clicks.

Felix stepped across the threshold, shutting the door quietly behind him. The entryway was dark, but two scattered details on the floor instantly caught his attention: a pair of sneakers he immediately recognized as Jisung’s, left haphazardly near the door, and his brother’s jacket tossed over the back of a chair.

A tight knot gripped his throat. His mind instinctively searched for an innocent explanation—maybe Jisung got a ride here, maybe they went out together—but the heavy silence enveloping the home told a very different story.

Felix took a few stealthy steps down the hallway of his brother’s apartment. The door to Minho’s bedroom was standing ajar.

Inside the room, Minho was carefully pulling the sleeve of a t-shirt over Jisung’s limp arm. The younger boy was fast asleep, his head resting against Minho’s chest, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist even in his sleep. Minho gently brushed through his messy hair with endless sweetness, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to his temple before pulling the blanket all the way up over his shoulders.

Just as Minho shifted slightly to adjust the pillow, his dark eyes caught the shadow standing in the doorway.

Felix was right there, frozen on the threshold of his brother’s apartment.

Felix’s gaze shifted from Jisung’s body, that was wrapped in one of Minho’s oversized t-shirts, hair tousled and face completely relaxed in sleep, to his older brother. His face, usually bright and lighthearted, was a mask of pure shock. All the suspicions, the half-truths, the evasive glances, and the excuses of the past few days instantly aligned into one undeniable picture.

Minho froze for a moment, his arm still resting on the bed. His usual mask of composure flickered for a fraction of a second, but there was no panic in his eyes. Leaning calmly over Jisung, he made sure the boy was still sound asleep, then brought a finger to his lips, giving Felix an imperceptible nod toward the hallway.

Felix took a step back, breathing heavily as if the air had been knocked straight out of his lungs.

Minho stepped out of the room barefoot, closing the door with millimeter precision so as not to make a sound, before turning to his brother.

“Felix...” Minho murmured in a low voice, his deep, calm tone echoing in the dim hallway.

“You two...” Felix whispered, his voice trembling slightly with disbelief. “How long has this been going on?”

Minho remained still for a few seconds, meeting Felix’s firm yet hurt gaze. The older brother’s natural composure didn't falter, but the sheer gravity of the moment was clear in his dark eyes.

“Let’s talk in the living room,” Minho said softly, gesturing with his head toward the living area to move away from the bedroom door.

Felix followed him with rigid steps, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of the jacket he hadn't even taken off. As soon as they were far enough away to avoid waking Jisung, Felix spun around, his brows knitted together in an expression of pure bewilderment.

“Seriously, hyung?” Felix whispered, his voice cracking with anger and disbelief. “He’s my best friend! He’s been coming over for years, and you... the two of you were seeing each other behind my back?”

“Felix, listen to me,” Minho cut in, his tone firm yet peaceful as he took a step toward him to try and calm him down. “It’s not what you think. There was never any intention to make a fool out of you or play you.”

“Then what was it? A game?” Felix shot back, shaking his head. “All those excuses, that summer story, the fact that he wouldn't tell me who he was seeing... You were playing right along with his lies, hyung! You looked at him at dinner as if he were a complete stranger when you knew damn well who he was, and not as his teacher!”

“Jisung didn't know I was your brother,” Minho revealed, cutting through the chaotic stream of Felix’s words.

Felix froze, blinking. “What?”

“We met this summer, purely by chance,” Minho explained, keeping his eyes locked onto the younger’s. “Neither of us knew the other’s last name or our connection to you. We lost touch and only ran into each other again recently. When he realized who I was, he was terrified of how you’d react. Everything he did was out of fear of ruining his relationship with you.”

Felix stayed silent, swallowing a heavy breath. The revelation deflated his immediate anger, replacing it with an even greater sense of bewilderment.

“And what about you?” Felix asked after a long pause, staring at Minho with a serious, mature look. “What is this to you, Minho? Is it just some fling, or are you serious?”

Minho didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second. His usual detached expression softened, grounded in unshakeable conviction.

“I would never play around with him, and certainly not with you,” Minho answered in a deep voice. “I really care about him, Felix. More than I thought was possible.”

Felix let out a long sigh, running a hand over his tired face. He looked toward the closed bedroom door at the end of the hallway, where Jisung was still sleeping blissfully unaware of everything, and then turned back to his brother.

“Tomorrow morning,” Felix murmured, shaking his head, though his tone had softened considerably, “I want to be here when he wakes up. And the two of you are going to explain everything from the beginning, without skipping a single detail.”

The next morning, Jisung woke up slowly, stretching lazily beneath the warm sheets. For a few seconds, he savored the complete sense of relaxation enveloping his body, his skin still carrying the faint scent of Minho’s fragrance. Then, noticing the spot beside him was empty, he sat up and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes.

He was still wearing Minho’s oversized t-shirt that the older man had dressed him in the night before. Sliding out of bed barefoot, he yawned and opened the bedroom door to look for Minho.

As soon as he took a couple of steps into the hallway, the rich aroma of fresh coffee guided him toward the kitchen.

“Hyung...” Jisung mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he peeked around the doorframe. “Did you make—”

The words caught squarely in his throat. The blood froze in his veins.

Seated at the kitchen table was not just Minho. Sitting across from him, holding a steaming mug with an expression that was a mix of disbelief, shock, and amusement, was Felix.

Jisung froze on the spot, his eyes wide as saucers. He stared at Felix, then at Minho, who was watching him with absolute calmness from his chair, and then back at Felix.

“F-Felix?!” Jisung stammered, his voice jumping three octaves in pure panic. Suddenly hyper-aware of what he was wearing, he instinctively yanked down the hem of Minho’s oversized t-shirt, attempting to take a step back and bolt for the bedroom. “What... how long have you been here?!”

Felix set his mug down on the table with a sharp click, resting his elbows on the wood as he looked his best friend up and down.

“Good morning to you too, Ji,” Felix said, pronouncing the name deliberately as his eyes drifted from his brother’s ridiculously large shirt down to Jisung’s shoulder, where a faint dark mark on his skin betrayed exactly what had happened the night before. “Nice shirt. Very comfortable, I assume.”

Jisung turned bright red, from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. His heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he could hear it echoing in his temples.

“I... I can explain!” Jisung squeaked, clutching the hem of the soft cotton in tight fists. “Lix, I swear I wanted to tell you, it’s just that—”

“Sit down, Jisung,” Minho interrupted in his usual calm voice, pouring some hot coffee into a third mug and pushing it toward the empty chair next to his. “Felix knows everything. I explained what happened this summer and why you were afraid to tell him.”

Jisung approached the table with the caution of someone treading through a minefield. He sank into the chair Minho had pointed out, keeping his knees pressed tightly together and his head bowed, not daring to look Felix in the eye.

“So...” Felix began after a few seconds of ghostly silence, crossing his arms over his chest. “The famous 'thirty-four-year-old guy' who was fantastic, sweet, made you feel safe, and knew exactly how to take care of you... was my brother.”

At those words, the exact same words Jisung had confided in him during a moment of vulnerability at the campus, Jisung covered his face with both hands, letting out a groan of pure desperation.

“Please, just kill me now,” Jisung mumbled from behind his fingers.

Minho let out a velvety laugh, effortlessly reaching a hand under the table to rest it on Jisung’s thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure him and give him strength. It was a spontaneous gesture, carried out with such complete naturalness that it made Felix’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Stop being so dramatic, Ji,” Felix said, and for the first time, a small, crooked smile tugged at his lips, melting away all the built-up tension in the room. “I’m mad because you guys lied to me and made me look blind for weeks... but I’m also your best friend. And I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him.”

Jisung slowly lowered his hands from his face, looking at Felix with wide, shiny eyes. “Really... you’re not mad at me?”

“Am I disgusted by the thought of you two making out while I was in the other room? Yes, absolutely,” Felix joked, making a funny face. But then, a sudden flash of insight crossed his mind, and his expression froze for a second.

His eyes went wide as he stared at Jisung.

“Wait a minute...” Felix murmured, his voice rising an octave in sheer disbelief. “All those... details about sex you kept telling me about the 'older guy'... were about my brother?”

Jisung’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he froze on the spot, choking on a cough.

“Oh my God,” Felix continued, throwing his hands into his hair as the realization fully crashed over him. “The fact that... that Minho is the bottom?! You literally described to me how—!”

“Shut your mouth, Felix!” Minho cut him off sharply. Within a single second, a bright, fiery crimson flushed from his neck straight up behind his ears, burning hot on his cheeks. He glared at his younger brother with a murderous look before shooting a completely flabbergasted glare at Jisung. “And you—have you lost your mind?! Since when do you tell him things like that?!”

“I tell him everything!” Jisung defended himself, throwing his hands up in surrender, his voice squeaking in panic with cheeks just as red as Minho’s. “And well... I certainly wouldn't have if I’d known he was your brother!”

“Good lord, Han Jisung,” Minho muttered through gritted teeth, burying his face in his hands for a second before emerging, still visibly flushed.

“Anyway, my brother and my best friend… I’m happy for you guys,” Felix chimed in, barely holding back a burst of laughter at the scene before regaining a shred of composure. 

“Just promise no more secrets from now on. And above all, hyung...” Felix turned toward Minho with a gaze that tried its best to be serious and protective, even though his lips were still trembling with amusement, “treat him right, or I swear I’ll slash your car tires.”

Minho shook his head, a lopsided smile breaking through despite his remaining embarrassment. “I happen to like my tires, Lix. Message received.”

Jisung let out a sigh of relief so long and dramatic that it made both brothers laugh, while under the table, Minho’s hand slid over to tightly intertwine his fingers with Jisung’s, holding them with a firm, comforting squeeze.

The warm, golden late-afternoon light streamed through the wide windows of Minho’s apartment. In the air, quiet after the chaotic bustle of the renovations, there was finally the settled, cozy feeling of home.

Jisung was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back slightly curved as he tried to pull on his socks. In a little while, they were supposed to meet Felix at the bar for a drink; now that everything was out in the open, those three-way hangouts had become a strangely enjoyable routine.

Minho crossed the bedroom threshold barefoot, moving with his usual feline grace. He was carrying two steaming mugs. Instead of speaking right away, he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, watching the younger boy in silence.

“Your thoughts are loud enough to hear from over here, sweetheart,” Minho murmured, breaking the quiet with his deep, velvety voice as he walked over to the bed.

Jisung looked up, letting out a soft sigh that lifted his shoulders. “I was just thinking about earlier... when Felix asked me for the hundredth time if we’re officially 'dating' or what. Every time he asks, I end up stumbling over my words because I never know what label to use.”

Minho set the mugs on the nightstand. Then he leaned down slightly and slipped his hands between Jisung’s knees, gently yet firmly parting them to position himself right in the space between his legs. His hands slid slowly up the younger boy’s thighs, pressing through the lightweight fabric of his pants.

Jisung parted his thighs instinctively, welcoming him in, and let his hands slide up onto Minho's shoulders, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

“And do you really need to give him an answer?” Minho asked in a low whisper, tracing the line of Jisung’s jaw with his fingertips to force him to lift his head and look him straight in the eyes. “Do you need a label slapped on us to know what we are?”

Jisung stared at him in silence for a long moment, letting the older man’s words settle deep into his chest.

He thought back over the whole absurd journey that had brought them to this point: their overwhelming first encounter over the summer; the desperation of losing each other because of his own slip-up; the paralyzing panic of crossing paths again at the dance class and realizing that the man who had stolen his heart was his best friend’s brother. He thought back to the nights spent hiding, and how Minho had held him tight every single time.

“No,” Jisung admitted barely above a whisper, a spontaneous, lopsided little smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Honestly, no. It feels like any official label would be... far too small to hold all of this.”

“Exactly,” Minho said, his expression softening into a boundless sweetness, a pure affection reserved solely for him. “When I searched for you for weeks after that night, I wasn't looking for a 'boyfriend.' I was looking for you. And when I saw you again in that practice room, with panic in your eyes, I didn't care about the age difference or about labels. We’ve never needed to make official announcements, and certainly not now that we don't have to hide from anyone anymore.”

Minho’s thumb slowly brushed over Jisung’s lower lip.

“I don't need you to put a label around my neck to know you’re here with me,” Minho murmured, tilting his head slightly. “You’re mine, Jisung. And I’m yours. It’s been that way since day one. Everything else is just noise for that brat of a brother of mine.”

Minho leaned forward, closing the last few inches between them and resting his lips against Jisung’s in a slow, warm kiss. Minho’s lips moved against his with unhurried, infinite patience; Jisung closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh against his mouth, wrapping his arms around Minho’s hips to pull him even closer until their chests were pressed together.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths were still mingling in the narrow space between their faces. Minho brushed the tip of Jisung’s nose with his thumb, making him chuckle softly.

“You’re terrible when you do that,” Jisung whispered, his voice trembling slightly with emotion as he let his head drop forward until their foreheads rested together.

“When I do what?”

“When you say things like that with a completely straight face,” Jisung answered, letting out a muffled little laugh that melted against Minho’s skin.

Minho chuckled, a low sound that vibrated directly against Jisung’s chest. Then his hands slowly slid up the younger boy’s neck, his fingers sinking into his dark hair with a firm, possessive grip. The kiss that followed was no longer tentative; it instantly grew deeper, hungrier, ignited by a sudden spark of desire that made Jisung gasp.

Minho gently pushed him back onto the pillows, settling his weight between Jisung's legs. Jisung let out a small, muffled sound against his mouth, instinctively wrapping his legs around Minho’s waist and pulling him close with a sudden rush of fervor. The heat between them flared in an instant, sending Jisung’s heart hammering wildly in his chest.

“Hyung...” Jisung panted against his lips, his hands sliding under Minho’s t-shirt to feel the warm skin of his back. “Let’s just stay here... please, let’s make Felix wait.”

Minho let out a warm breath against his neck, burying his face in the crook of Jisung's shoulder and leaving a slow, lingering kiss right above his collarbone. The temptation to give in was unmistakable in the way his fingers gripped Jisung’s hips tightly, but with a massive effort of willpower, Minho checked his movement.

“I love you, Jisung,” Minho murmured against his skin, his voice reduced to a husky, intimate whisper that sent a shiver straight down Jisung’s spine.

At those words, Jisung’s eyes widened slightly as a wave of overwhelming warmth surged right through his chest.

“I love you too, Minho,” Jisung replied without a single second of hesitation, his voice cracking with a disarming sweetness as he stroked the back of Minho's neck. “I love you so much.”

Minho lifted his head to look him in the eye, his gaze so loaded with affection and barely restrained desire that it made Jisung’s knees feel weak. He gave him one last deep kiss before pulling away reluctantly, straightening up with a long breath and a tight smirk.

“If we keep this up for another ten seconds, we’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow,” Minho said, reaching out a hand to help him sit up on the mattress. “Drink your coffee and finish getting dressed. If we’re late, Felix is going to start complaining, and this time there'll be no stopping him.”

Jisung looked at him, still slightly breathless and with his cheeks flushed, but with a broad smile spreading across his face. He intertwined his fingers with Minho’s, giving his hand a firm squeeze.

“Let’s go, hyung,” Jisung said, getting up and letting himself be led toward the entryway, ready to live their story exactly as it was, wonderfully theirs.