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“Where did you even get these?” Minho asks, staring as Jisung locks their wrists together with a pair of handcuffs—fluffy ones with pink leopard print design to boot. 

“Hyunjin,” Jisung answers, simply and matter-of-factly, like it's the most obvious thing and Minho shouldn't have bothered asking.

Minho snorts. “You do realize what he probably uses these for usually, right?” he asks, lightly tugging at the restraint as if to check how loose it is.

Jisung laughs. “He swore that these are brand new and never before used,” he says. “I don't care what he does with them after we're done with them.”

“I can imagine what,” Minho comments mischievously.

“And you're free to imagine all you want,” Jisung declares. “Just keep it yourself. Don't share with me.”

Minho tsks; clicks his tongue in faux disapproval. “You're lame.”

“Not wanting to think about Hyunjin's sex life is not lame, it's normal.”

Minho laughs. “Who said anything about his sex life? Maybe I was talking about Hyunjin dressing up as a policeman for Halloween.”

“First of all, who still dresses up as a policeman? ACAB!” Jisung comments with a huff. “Second—with pink leopard print handcuffs?!”

“Well it's Hyunjin. One, he is a bastard, and two, he'll go as a sexy version for sure,” Minho counters.

Jisung purses his lips and bites back laughter. “So what you're saying is that you find pink leopard print sexy,” he remarks.

“Not me,” Minho argues in a sensible tone. “Hyunjin."

Jisung laughs. “Of course.”

Comfortable silence takes over for a couple of seconds; Jisung's gaze lands on their now connected wrists before glancing at the camera that's attached to a gimbal being held by his free hand.

“So.” He flashes a smile at Minho. “Let's go?”

The latter simply laughs and nods. “Lead and I'll follow.”

“I need good ideas.” 

It was only a little over a week ago when Jisung had made this announcement to an audience of two: Jeongin, from the dorm room across the hall, who was sprawled on Jisung's bed instead of his own, thumbing through a volume of ‘The Promised Neverland’ that he had pulled off Jisung's shelf, and Felix, Jisung's former roommate and their common friend whose attention was only half on him because he was too engrossed in the movie that he was watching on Jisung's tablet while he gobbled up the cookies he had baked and brought over to share.

“Sure you do,” Jeongin had answered absentmindedly, eyes focused on his reading material. “It's because you only ever have bad ones, right?”

“Get out,” Jisung immediately told him, pretending to feel insulted despite knowing well enough that Jeongin's sharp tongue is more often harmless than not.

In return, Jeongin finally looked up from what he was reading and flashed a sickly sweet smile at him. “Just telling it like it is.”

Jisung rolled his eyes and turned to Felix who also looked up from the tablet in his hands.

“What kind of ideas, ‘Sung?”

He shrugged. “Something new,” he said. “Or something old that I could bring back and popularize. Anything fun, really! I've done most of the recent trends but I'm fast approaching 300k subs so I want to do something fun for my, err, fans.”

It still felt weird to Jisung that he had fans. He had started his YouTube channel halfway through his freshman year in university, and at first it was mostly movie reviews and whatever challenges were trending. It was never supposed to become a big deal, but apparently people liked what he offered; his channel was now going on for three years but he only really started earning money over the last year or so, after his 8 minute recap-slash-reaction video to Howl's Moving Castle went low-key viral. His friends told him it was because he was funny and well-spoken, but he always gathered it was probably the image of a (mostly) grown man shedding tears that did it. 

Either way, what really mattered was that Jisung was able to upgrade that minor success to a (so far) semi successful career as a YouTuber, uploading more funny review-reactions regularly (content that made people stay and subscribe), while also expanding his repertoire to the occasional vlog (content that made his followers feel like they knew him) and even challenge videos and KPOP covers (content that helped people find him to begin with). Who knew people were actually interested in following the life of a pop culture nerd who wasn't even done with school yet?

Reaching 300,000 subscribers right before graduation was very opportune though, especially since he was actively trying to pivot to a full time career in YouTube after he was done with college. All the more reason he needed an idea that would satisfy his subscribers.

“Why don't you do something with Minho-hyung?” Felix suggested. “Your videos that feature him have the highest view count right?”

He was right, of course. Jisung would even wager that it was an understandable phenomenon because Minho, his best friend, is objectively gorgeous. Jisung wouldn't tell him to his face but frankly, he's the most beautiful man that Jisung has ever laid his eyes on.

Minho was a notable part of Jisung's YouTube journey. Not only had he been there when Jisung first started messing around on the platform, he also helped with the behind the scenes post-production like editing videos. More than that, for every 6 movies out of 10 that Jisung reacts to, it was likely that he saw them with Minho. The proof was in the fact that half of the jokes he told on his videos are ones that Minho came up with—because that was another thing, not only was Minho unforgivably pretty, he was funny as well. But Jisung would digress because the thing was—actually getting Minho to appear in front of the camera was not a very easy feat. If it was, the channel would have been a joint venture between the two of them to begin with.

To be fair, he had already made a few cameos on Jisung's channel, mostly on his vlogs, when Jisung would film them while they hung out. And there was that one time when Jisung managed to convince him, a dancer, to teach the choreography to some trendy dance songs— that particular video had blown up overnight with a huge chunk of the comments gushing about the handsome dancer. It would have been annoying if not for the fact that 1) Jisung agreed with the sentiment, and 2) more views meant more revenue.

“I don't know.” Jisung had sighed in response to Felix, initially skeptical of his suggestion. “I'm gonna have to twist his arm if I want him to film a video with me—and before I invite him, I still need an idea for what it should be. Your run of the mill vlog or reaction content feels lacking for a subscriber milestone offering.”

Jeongin, expectedly, being a natural contrarian, let out a snort. “Well, first of all, Minho-hyung doesn't know how to say no to you—”

“Not true!” Jisung argued. “When it comes to YouTube content he always plays hard to get.”

“He plays hard to get, doesn't mean he's actually hard to get,” Jeongin countered. “At least not for you.”

Jisung hand waved the argument. “Look, I know Minho-hyung quite well, okay? If he wants to do something, he'll do it.”

Jeongin laughed. “No one said anything about him wanting to do your YouTube videos. But he'll do them anyway. For you. All you have to do is ask and bat your eyes, and he'll pretend to be stubborn and that he doesn't want to—and then you'll pout and poof! Suddenly he's very malleable.”

Felix had hummed in agreement, and Jisung was all set to keep arguing, except,

“You can do the 24-hour handcuff challenge!” Felix suddenly suggested, and the gears in Jisung's head immediately began to turn. “It's perfect for you and Minho-hyung, and your viewers would love that,” he added.

“Right!” Jeongin (surprisingly) agreed. “Beomgyu did that with Yeonjun a few months ago. He doesn't have as big a following as you do, but if I recall correctly Yeonjun's channel got a pretty good boost from that.” He grinned mischievously. “Meanwhile Beomgyu came out of the experience with a boyfriend. If you're lucky maybe the same'll happen to you.”

Jisung scoffed. “What are you talking about! I'm not trying to win myself a boyfriend, I'm trying to give my subscribers a nice gift for accompanying me throughout my YouTube journey!”

“Right!” Felix chirped happily; he seemed like he was genuinely trying to back up Jisung's claims, but irrationally, Jisung heard it as sarcasm anyway.

“I'm being serious!” he huffed defensively.

“Okay?” Jeongin cackled, taunting and almost smug, at least to Jisung's ears. “And we're giving you a good idea just like you asked. Besides—you can do this challenge in your sleep. It's not as if you two are ever without each other, the only difference is you're gonna have to be literally tied together.”

“Well he's not here right now is he?” Jisung spat out petulantly.

Still, he took pause; he had to admit that their idea could make for amusing content. He and Minho always had fun when they were together, and he knew that his subs love to see him with his best friend. 

“Alright I'll ask him,” he decided out loud. “But he'll probably say no. And if he does I won't push it.”

“Okay.” 

Sure enough, not even five hours later, Minho was saying yes, just like that. He hadn't even given Jisung time to explain what a 24-hour handcuff challenge was. Jisung asked and he simply agreed.

Jisung had gawked, genuinely surprised. “Really?!”

He wasn't completely clueless; he knew Minho had a soft spot for him—they were best friends after all. Still, Jeongin was right and Minho usually liked to pretend at first, play a little push and pull before ultimately caving to Jisung's whims. That awareness was also why Jisung didn't often ask him for anything he didn't think Minho would have to force himself to do—which typically included sharing too much of himself with thousands of strangers on the internet. Minho enjoyed his privacy and Jisung respected that.

“Sure.” Minho shrugged.

“But—?”

“But?”

“It's always like pulling teeth when I ask you to do things for my channel!” 

“That's not true,” Minho countered. “I'm always appearing in your vlogs.”

“Those hardly count. Most of those are just small appearances, from whenever we happen to be hanging out and I film a little of us.”

“I also did that choreo tutorial—”

“Which my subs want more of, by the way,” Jisung pointed out.

“—and I did that one video where we recreated some Ghibli dishes with Lix,” Minho continued, opting to ignore Jisung's interjection. “I've also done a few TikTok challenges with you.”

Jisung huffed. “You like cooking,” he pointed out. To be fair, that had been fun content; messy and chaotic, but worth it for the delicious food and the amount of views it raked in. A perfect example of why Jisung would love to do more content with Minho. “And TikTok isnt YouTube.”

Minho laughed. “Okay, so do you want me to say no, then?”

“Of course not!”

“Then take the win, 'Sung.”

“Okay.” Jisung beamed; relieved but also absolutely delighted. “When are you free to film? Next week, I have finals, but I'm projecting that I won't actually hit 300k until 2 weeks  from now. The video can be a little late.”

“Sure,” Minho agreed. “You know I'll go by your schedule. I'm not the one with finals.”

Minho had graduated the year before with a degree in Computer Engineering—not that he had taken a job in the field. His experience in the university dance team instead landed him a job at a nearby studio, teaching dance classes to children; that, alongside a part-time stint as a waiter at a three-star restaurant allows him to make ends meet. 

Jisung, on the other hand, did all the heavy lifting for his degree in Communications at the start of the school year, during the previous term, which included finishing and defending his undergraduate thesis. He already knew that he was angling for a career as a YouTuber anyway, so he made sure to keep his last term at school light so he could focus on creating more content. Frankly, if it wasn't for the cheaper student accommodations, he would have finished early instead of leaving a few unearned units for the current term.

“Okay. Next weekend, then? I only have a final paper to turn in and an oral exam on Friday.”

“Where you lead, I'll follow,” Minho assured him, and Jisung could only grin, especially as an idea sparked in his head.

“I know what we should do,” he declared excitedly.

“Hm?” Minho regarded him curiously.

“I need to find somewhere to move to after I leave the dorms at the end of term, right?”

“Mhm.”

“How about we go apartment hunting on the day we cuff ourselves to each other?” he suggested.

Jisung's plan had been to crash at Minho's until he found a place for himself. Minho has always said that he was welcome to stay for as long as he wanted to, but he lived in a cramped one bedroom apartment that was too small for both of them, especially since Jisung was going to need space to film his videos. Besides, he was starting to make decent money off of YouTube, so he could afford somewhere nice and more spacious.

The real goal was to somehow get Minho to think that living with Jisung in a two-bedroom flat was most ideal; to get Minho to think to ask Jisung to move in together on his own—so really, looking at apartments while filming themselves handcuffed was hitting multiple birds with one stone.

He paused, half expecting Minho to falter and hesitate, but that wasn't what happened.

“Alright.” Once again, Minho had been uncharacteristically easy to convince. It made Jisung wonder if he should just tell Minho that he wanted to find a place for both of them; if he should just tell his best friend that there was nothing more he wanted than for the two of them to live together, but he bit his tongue because he really wanted Minho to think it was his idea.

“And then in the evening you'll cook for me?” he prodded instead, even batting his eyes playfully. Minho seemed to be in a good mood so while he refused to reveal all his cards, he figured he would take what he could while he could.

Minho stared at him, piercing yet with an underlying fondness.  “You're really pushing your luck today, aren't you?”

Jisung, in turn, smiled the cutest smile he could muster, and it was almost physical, the way Minho visibly softened, his shoulders—his entire countenance—relaxing, and that was how Jisung knew he got him.

“Fine,” Minho agreed, with feigned exasperation. “But I'm choosing the menu. And we're not filming this part.”

Jisung laughed and nodded eagerly. Anything Minho would make was bound to be delicious anyway.

“We can film us going grocery shopping instead,” he added cheekily, and Minho could only laugh.

“Why are we in the suburbs?” Minho asks.

Here they are now, staring at a single-storey craftsman style house from across the street at a residential area that's around a twenty minute commute away from their university and a ten minute drive going downtown. There's a FOR SALE sign displayed in the yard, complete with the number of the realtor (a plucky looking blonde with bright red lipstick and a dimpled smile, at least based on the photo featured on the sign) attached.

Their wrists are still tied to each other with the handcuffs, and their fingers are loosely intertwined, while Jisung's other hand films their every move with his camera.

They had left Jisung's dorm exactly like this; within campus grounds they had barely gotten any strange looks, which was understandable considering most students vaguely knew of Jisung thanks to his channel. It was a bit more difficult during the commute—Jisung had insisted they take public transportation during the day instead of driving around in Minho's car, and this earned them a few annoyed grumblings on the bus even though they both made sure not to cause too much of a disturbance.

Jisung generally hates the attention from a crowd of strangers; funny considering that's how he earns money. But it's easier when he doesn't actually see the crowd; when they're all just stats and numbers and faceless comments on the internet.

Frankly, it used to be that he hated any kind of attention at all, but this was something he actively sought out to remedy by majoring in Communications. Ironically, it turned out that he was really good at expressing himself to an audience, but too physical eyes on him still made his skin crawl, which is why he prefers filming content within the four walls of his dorm room. When he's with Minho, though, it's always nice and comfortable even when they're outside. His best friend's calm, collected and come what may attitude helps ground his own anxiety, and so, not for the first time, it helped him ignore the looks thrown their way as they made their way through town with a recording camera.

“Because we're house hunting,” Jisung answers matter-of-factly.

“I thought we were looking for an apartment,” Minho counters. “You can afford a house?” He looks confused but also impressed. “Maybe I should pivot to a career in vlogging too.”

“You should.” Jisung laughs before staring directly at the camera. “Everyone will gladly subscribe to you, won't you guys?”

Minho winces; grimaces at the camera which makes Jisung laugh. He knows this is another reason why Minho does not particularly enjoy filming content with him. He doesn't like interacting with an imaginary audience; he had Minho over for a livestream once and he was far more comfortable engaging with the live comments.

“But no,” Jisung continues, “I can't afford a house— yet— but I figured it would be fun to look at some. I looked it up and apparently there are a couple of open house showings around here today, but later this afternoon Chris is showing us a couple of studio apartments uptown.”

To the camera, he explains who Chris is—a friend that both of them knew throughout college, and an aspiring music producer who for now is financing his musical aspirations by moonlighting as a realtor.

"He composes a lot of the music you hear on my videos!” Jiisung cheerfully adds as he and Minho make their way across the street to the open house, the backs of their hands lightly brushing against each other.

They're hit with the delicious smell of freshly baked cookies as soon as they enter (“I hear that's a trick some realtors do,” Jisung whispers to the camera, “because the delicious smell lures you into thinking the place feels like home.”), while Minho focuses his attention on the blonde woman who smiles at them and asks them to list their names down on a signup sheet.

Jisung temporarily turns the camera off so he can let her know who he is—a few days ago when he first saw the open house listing, he had called ahead to make sure that they could film inside the house. He had explained who he was, and the agent—the same plucky woman pictured on the sign outside, who is also welcoming them now—while clearly knowing nothing about his channel, had been quite accommodating. She had agreed to let him film, even letting him know of another house that he was welcome to view, with the promise that Jisung will make sure to advertise her real estate company on the finished video and with the assurance that Jisung will responsibly edit out anything that could identify the owners of the place.

“Come on—” Minho tells him, after the greetings are over. They're served a massive chocolate chip cookie each (almost the size of Minho's face) and Jisung's camera is back to recording. “I want to see the kitchen.”

“The kitchen, of course.” Jisung rolls his eyes at the camera, but his tone is fond even if cheeky. “If you've been watching this channel for a while now, you probably know that cooking is one of Minho's hobbies.” Even if Minho has been picky about showing his face on camera, the food he makes has featured more than a few times on Jisung's channel—often because Jisung has an on-off corner where  Jisung eats notable food from some of the films that he reviews, and it's always Minho who recreates those dishes. “Guys—he cooks, he dances, he—”

“—puts up with Han Jisung!” Minho interjects.

Jisung rolls his eyes, ignoring him. “And!” he continues, “he has a degree in Computer Engineering. What can't this man do? Ladies, gents, he's free and single by the way!”

It's Minho's turn to roll his eyes at that; he pinches Jisung's cheek and then covers the camera playfully with his free hand. “Kitchen, come on,” he declares, threading their fingers together as he tugs at Jisung to follow him.

Jisung doesn't really have much interest in the kitchen setup or the appliances, so he keeps talking to the camera while Minho goes around inspecting everything and marveling at the apparently state of the art setup.

“He's a cooking nerd,” Jisung stage whispers to the microphone.

Minho laughs. “What? As opposed to you, who is an everything nerd?”

“Touché,” Jisung caves. The two of them flash a smile at each other, Minho's bright and blinding.

Not for the first time, Jisung's heart skips a beat.

Jisung first met Minho near the beginning of freshman year when the latter had handed him a flier advertising a student group for Korean-American students.

His breath had automatically caught. Minho has always been a beautiful man—his hair these days is always styled short, with a two block cut, but it had been longer at the time, held away from his face with a (in Jisung's very humble opinion, sexy) top knot. His angles were also sharper, and his eye bags were darker thanks to sleepless student nights, but the tiredness didn't diminish the loveliness of his feline smile, or the prettiness of his big eyes, framed with long, thick lashes.

“You're Korean, right?” was how he greeted Jisung before shoving a piece of flier in his hands. A bit presumptuous, but he wasn't wrong either. “Come to our orientation this Thursday,” he said. “There's free food.”

Jisung had only gawked, and even after Minho winked at him and moved on to handing his flier to the next student passerby, he couldn't really say anything.

Still, despite that, he hadn't really planned on attending the orientation. He was even more of a homebody back then, and crowds filled with strangers did nothing but give him anxiety. But he was lucky enough to have been assigned to a dorm room with Felix, who was (still is) his opposite in a lot of ways, all sunshine and socialization. He had convinced Jisung to go with him; insisted that he would stick to Jisung's side for all of it if needed because ‘wouldn't it be nice to meet people we already know we share something in common with?’ 

Put like that, Jisung had softened at the idea. He reminded himself that one of his goals in university was to become better at socialization, so he had cautiously but willingly tagged along after Felix. 

The orientation, as it turned out, was more a casual get together than anything else. Felix started out glued to his side as promised but Jisung felt guilty and it wasn't long before he released his roommate from the obligation. He figured he was in college, he was a big boy, and he could handle being by himself for an evening.

Despite telling himself this, he had slinked in the background instinctively, at least until,

“I know you, don't I?” Minho had come up to him with no other preamble, curious but matter of fact in his tone.

Jisung was taken aback, and had initially wanted to shrink unto himself but Minho's smile was warm and blinding. Not judging, but just casual—as if Jisung was a long lost acquaintance instead of a complete stranger.

“Do you?” Jisung had shot back, uncharacteristically coy. Maybe it was the one cup of beer he'd had at that point, but shaky confidence had coursed through his veins. Even when they were strangers, Minho's mere presence had lent him self-assurance. “Or do you just want to get to know me?”

Minho laughed at that; shook his head, and leaned against the wall next to Jisung.

“I'm Minho,” he introduced himself. “And that really wasn't a line, but it could be if you want it to be.”

The flirtation was smooth, easy—for that entire night, Jisung found himself glued to Minho's side, talking about anything and everything until Felix found him again and they had to go because the freshman dorms had a midnight curfew.

As Jisung slowly became more active in the Korean-American student organization in the months that followed, the shallow flirtation with Minho grew into a close friendship at an impressive rate. 

Most of that development is a blur to Jisung now; the attraction he initially felt towards his best friend has long been shoved into a box, sealed tightly and marked with caution. Life without Minho is too hard to imagine, too difficult to grasp and therefore too dangerous to risk.

“The wallpaper is nice,” Minho comments.

They're at their second open house, another listing from Plucky Blonde Realtor's company, but overseen by another agent. This one doesn't have cookies but they have free lemonade. 

They're not supposed to go into private spaces, but Minho and Jisung had snuck into one of the bedrooms anyway; at least Jisung had enough foresight and respect to turn off the camera and not film while they basically invaded a poor stranger's privacy.

The room looks like it belongs to a teenager; posters of various KPOP groups and anime are pinned on the walls, covering what looks to be aging pink and yellow floral wallpaper.

“The posters are nice,” Jisung counters. “I like how she managed to put up a poster of SHINee on the ceiling so that the last person she sees before falling asleep is Fiery Charisma Minho.”

They're on the bed, on top of pink cotton sheets, shoulder to shoulder with their hands—their fingers loosely joined between them.

“I'm surprised the poster isn't BTS,” Minho comments.

“She must have been into KPOP for a while now, though, considering she has SHINee and SNSD on her walls,” Jisung points out.

“I think the owner of this room is away at college, actually,” Minho concludes. “The old KPOP and these dusty sheets are kind of a dead giveaway.”

“Not to mention despite all the posters, there's no album collection on display,” Jisung adds, gesturing towards the half empty shelf above the desk at the other side of the room.

“Also the empty laundry hamper next to the door,” Minho muses, chuckling. “This reminds me of how my own mother left my room in the exact same state for the four years I was in college—it wasn't until last year that she finally accepted that I had no plans of living back home again, at least not in the near future.”

“I know.” Jisung laughs. “Now your old room is a playroom for your cats.”

“Soonie and Doongie deserve it. I'm fine sleeping in the guest room whenever I go home.”

Jisung grins cheekily as he turns his head to face Minho. “Remember when she was cleaning out your room and she texted me to tell me she found your porn mags?”

Minho groans and winces. “She's so ridiculous,” he complains, but there's a tinge of longing in his tone. “And embarrassing.” He shakes his head. “She loves you too much.”

“I know.” Jisung keeps grinning. “Can you blame her? I love me too.”

“A little too much.” Minho elbows him, a little too hard, and Jisung yelps, instinctively curling into himself and inadvertently pulling harshly at Minho's wrist in the process.

“Hey!” Minho cries out.

Jisung laughs, even as he automatically leans closer to Minho, free hand rubbing the latter's arm. “That was your fault, mister!”

Minho huffs, and for a brief second, comfortable silence envelops them like it always does. 

“You know what we should do?” Minho is the one to break it.

“Hm?”

“Check under the bed.”

Jisung snorts. “So you wanna find this girl's porn?”

Minho laughs. “I just think it's interesting what teenagers hide under their beds.”

“That's just you.” Jisung clicks his tongue. “When I was a teen the only things you would find under my bed was dust and maybe some old homework that I didn't want my parents to see.”

“Why not? As if your nerdy ass ever scored anything below an A-,” Minho teases.

“You mean the Asian F.” Jisung laughs.

“Isn't the Asian F a B?” Minho wonders aloud.

“For you and your parents, maybe!” Jisung huffs. “Mine would never accept anything under an A.”

Minho laughs and purposefully tugs harshly at their wrists. “That's because your parents think you're a genius. That's on you for scoring like a genius on that IQ test.”

“I was eight when they made me take that test,” Jisung grumbles, almost regretting ever sharing that bit of his past with Minho. (Only almost though, because in truth he likes that Minho knows so much about him.) “And for the record, it was touch and go for a while there with AP Calculus. All those letters suddenly with the numbers, man!” He sniffs and shakes his head. “I got a couple of cursed B's around that time.”

Jisung is playing it up, but the truth is that he really did do quite well in school. While pressure from his parents played a part in his grades, school was also just something he excelled at. It also helped that he didn't have much of an active social life back in the day, so he spent a lot of time satisfying his curiosity about various fields, which helped his education a lot.

“Fucking nerd,” Minho teases, but there's no bite or malice in his tone; Jisung doesn't mind it. 

“You love me for it,” Jisung retorts, turning his head to face Minho and bat his eyes; the latter exhales and laughs softly in response.

“Sure. I guess. Whatever.” He sounds petulant, but weirdly Jisung finds it adorable. Maybe because Minho usually seems calm, steady and uncaring—especially around their other friends. But with Jisung he has never held back from showing this side of himself. 

“Alright, let's look,” Jisung segues back to the original point of the conversation. He rolls over closer to the edge of the bed, and Minho, of course, wiggles after him. When Jisung leans over the side, Minho ends up pressing his chest against Jisung's back so that he can look over the latter's shoulder.

Jisung's breath hitches at the close contact, but he covers for it by immediately taking a deep breath. He reaches under the bed with his free hand and feels around, laughing when the first thing he manages to grab is a wad of stapled papers.

“Told ya!” He rejoices, laughing even more at the blood red mark on the upper right corner of the first paper that he immediately spots. He shoves the bunch of papers over his shoulder, to Minho. “Calc homework. Not very interesting.”

Minho laughs along. “There's an Actual F here,” he observes as he flips through the papers with one hand; quite easily since he's ambidextrous. 

“Aha!” Jisung lets out a soft cry of success as he pulls out a shoebox, with a cover that has been wrapped in shiny pink paper. He attempts to sit up and places the box on his lap, wobbling a little thanks to restricted movement. Being literally stuck to Minho has made his cuffed hand 50% useless and rendered his general movement a little stilted.

It's Minho who takes the lid off the box, and they keep laughing when they see what's inside—mostly a bunch of silly keepsakes a teenager would save, ranging from a dried corsage (yellow carnation, Jisung, who had a brief fascination with botany and horticulture in his high school years, identifies easily) to a few KPOP photo cards.

There's also a small notebook with a broken lock buried underneath all the other junk-slash-trinkets.

“Do you think it's her diary?” Minho asks as he points at the last item.

“Should we look?” Jisung ponders.

“Maybe we shouldn't,” Minho answers. “Let's respect her privacy.”

That has Jisung laughing all over again; for some reason, Minho's deadpan delivery makes everything funny to Jisung. “It's a little too late for that isn't it?” He gestures around them before giving Minho a pointed look; a silent reminder that they shouldn't even be in this room to begin with.

“There's nothing wrong with remembering our limits,” Minho declares with faux solemnity.

“You're so fucking weird,” Jisung cant help but tell him; he knows though, just as he doesn't mind when it's Minho calling him a nerd, Minho doesn't mind when it's Jisung who tells him that he's weird.

“No I'm not.” That doesn't stop Minho from arguing, though.

“So invading a girl's room and checking for porn under their bed is completely appropriate, but you draw the line at reading a literal stranger's diary.”

“Yes,” Minho answers easily.

Jisung lets out a sigh, feigning exasperation. “Luckily, I like weird.”

“True. I’m super weird,” Minho returns, suddenly changing his tune and agreeing. “I’m ideally weird.”

Jisung groans and slaps his arm with the notebook before dropping it back into the box, which he then places down on the floor and slides it back under the bed.

“We really should—” go, is what Jisung is about to say except,

“Jisung,” Minho is suddenly saying his name at the same time, tone soft but determined. It's a genuine type of solemnity, not the kind that Minho fakes when he's deliberately being obtuse or annoying.

“Yeah?”

“I got a job offer.”

“Eh?” Jisung looks at him closely, strangely; he didn't even know that Minho had been looking for another job. “Is this on top or in place of the two you already have?”

Minho hums. He's fiddling with a loose thread from the knee rip of his jeans; he's using the hand that's connected to Jisung's so it's a little distracting and it prompts Jisung to steady him by clasping their hands together.

“The latter,” Minho answers.

“Ah.” Jisung nods. “Are you like—going to be a computer engineer now or something?” He playfully teases; he figures if that's the case then the pay is probably better, which should be good news, but for some reason he still feels nervous. He knows it's probably because of the way Minho sounds so serious. Minho is never this serious.

Minho shakes his head. “I actually got an offer to teach dance full time.”

“This is at Studio Dawn?” Jisung legitimately gasps in excited surprise; but then he falters when Minho remains blank-faced. “Or—I’m guessing not?”

“The job is in Seattle,” Minho murmurs.

“Eh?” Jisung does a double take, unsure if he heard right. Immediately, his heart dives down his stomach. “Seattle?” he repeats. “In Washington? The west coast? Almost 3000 miles away?” He blinks.

Suddenly it all makes sense; why Minho had been so earnest and agreeable and accommodating, agreeing to Jisung's every whim and all without the usual teasing or playing hard to get.  It was because of this; because he knew he wanted to share this news with Jisung today, and was probably considering how Jisung would react.

Minho snorts, finally showing a bit of soul in his features again. “Yeah,” he confirms. “That Seattle—are there other ones?” He even sounds a little teasing now, and Jisung habitually lets out a huff. “It's—the job—it's a really great opportunity. It comes with opportunities to choreograph because the studio also does choreographies for celebrities—I hear they even get demos from KPOP agencies. Apparently small to mid-sized agencies outsource a lot from beyond Korea because it's cheaper than hiring someone local and in-demand. My boss at Studio Dawn recommended me for the open position. I thought it was a long shot so I didn't say anything until now.”

“Wow…” Jisung swallows thickly, processing everything. “Wait, so—does this mean you already took it? The job?”

“I have until Monday to give them an answer,” Minho explains.

“Aaah.” Jisung forces the biggest smile he can muster because he knows that this is a great opportunity. Despite spending four years studying computer engineering, dancing is Minho's real passion and Jisung knows that better than anyone, because he knows Minho better than anyone. And if Minho can make a living doing something that he loves and consumes him in the best way possible, then of course Jisung thinks that he should go for it. “I'm excited for you,” Jisung adds, secretly proud when his voice doesn't quiver at the half-truth.

“Yeah?” Minho looks uncertain, which makes Jisung feel bad; he thinks Minho was probably able to notice his own apprehension at the news and he couldn't have that.

“Dude, of course!” Jisung insists, laughing even more as he lightly punches Minho's arm. “This is the best news, why wouldn't I be excited?”

“Right,” Minho agrees, and there's relief in his tone, yet somehow Jisung can't help but notice that the joy doesn't quite completely light up his eyes.

Friends who know both of them have always said that Minho (interestingly) leans on Jisung more than the opposite. Frankly, while he never actively debunks the assumption, Jisung has never understood this perception.

Changbin, who knew Minho for a whole two years before that fateful day at the University quad when Jisung first ran into Minho, is the main perpetrator of this persistent analysis of their dynamic.

“There’s something about the way he is when it's the two of you together,” he shared with Jisung once, when they had shared an elective and they had ended up pulling an all nighter for a joint end of term project. While they managed to be somewhat productive, part of the night was also spent with pizza, beer and gossip regarding their common friends—Minho being one of them. “He lets his guard down. He never thinks to—um, what's that word—filter! He never filters himself with you like he still does with me.”

“Really?” Jisung had never really thought about it before that night. “You're very close with him though?”

“We are.” Changbin shrugged. “As close as anyone can get to Minho—at least that's what I thought. Until I saw him with you. Minho used to have this really uptight, closed off energy. But that's not really the case anymore, especially when you're around.”

“Oh.”

“And I know he comes to you when he's stressed.”

“He does?” That observation had also surprised Jisung, but it also made sense once pointed out. “He does,” he agreed belatedly.

“So yeah, that's cool,” Changbin decided. “You're cool, ‘Sung,” he added, and Jisung was so sure that Changbin was drunk at that point, but he appreciated the compliment; accepted it with pride. “You aren't the type to rely on anyone, you're so sure of yourself.”

And Jisung had burst into laughter at that because it was the complete opposite of what he felt oftentimes—but in a way he was also glad. He was already three years into college at that point, and it felt like he had succeeded at building his own confidence; by faking it all along, he had actually made it. It was one of the goals he had set for himself as a freshman and it felt good to hear the words from someone like Changbin who always seemed so sure of himself from the moment Jisung met him.

Still, it was funny. His friends only knew him as someone self-sufficient and bursting to the brim with pride and confidence; they had no idea how much they—as his friends—contributed to his evolution as this person; more than that, they had no idea how much Minho's grounding and supportive presence in his life really helped him bloom into the man he had become.

Before that moment of enlightened realization, Jisung himself had lacked awareness.

He has said time and again that most of his friendship with Minho has been a blur because they had bonded so quickly, but frankly that was a lie—most memories of their friendship, quite honestly, are sharp and vivid.

Like—

That time Minho came back from Thanksgiving break with an acorn he had found in his parents’ backyard, which he had secretly left under Jisung 's pillow for him to discover. When he did; when Jisung confronted him about it, confused but amused, Minho had laughed, and had simply said, “It reminded me of you.”

Also, that time Jisung took Minho home to his parents' for Christmas break, and Minho bonded with his mother as he helped out in the kitchen, making a scrumptious Christmas feast; and that time Minho took Jisung to stay at his parents for New Year's Eve, and they had bathed Minho's mischievous cats so they could welcome the incoming year fresh and clean.

And of course, that time when Jisung 's first viral video had made rounds on the internet and he very nearly had a panic attack because of how nervous and anxious he was at the idea that thousands of people were watching him, and probably finding his face ugly, and his jokes unfunny—Minho was there; he had taken him out to eat at their favorite KBBQ restaurant; had told him, “For now let's enjoy this delicious meat!” while choosing the most expensive set. Somehow, after the meal, when Jisung had opened his phone again, looking at the still rising amount of views on the video finally made him feel proud, even excited, with his nerves finally calmed.

All their cafe dates and study sessions; that time Jisung helped Minho move into his off-campus studio apartment; all the times that Minho had watched movies with Jisung, helping him pick the best ones to recap and review for his channel.

He remembers them all with well-defined clarity.

Clearest of all, though, was the moment when he realized how important Minho was to him.

It was two years into their friendship, the end of the final term of Jisung's second year at university. They had been in a corner of the library; it wasn't even only the two of them—Jeongin, a freshman at the time, had tagged along, but he had fallen asleep, using a stack of textbooks as a pillow, while Minho and Jisung diligently pored through their respective review materials.

It was Minho's final year; he was graduating in a few weeks and this was what had been running through Jisung's mind when he glanced up and his gaze landed on his friend. Distracted from his Sociology 101 notes, he had ended up staring at Minho long and hard; his brain was mush at that point, and his filter was non-existent. “You know, I think you're probably my soulmate,” he ended up blurting out; a harmless fact that he knew to be simple and true.

Minho had looked up, met his eyes directly, and let out an amused chuckle. “What?”

Jisung could only laugh as he shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “I think my brain is broken.”

And the two of them had to keep their laughter muffled so as to not disturb everyone else in the room desperately trying to cram for finals; what was important was that Jisung had escaped that embarrassing slip unscathed.

But the truth was, in his chest, his heart had been thundering; raging against his rib cage because at that moment he just knew. 

He was in love with his best friend.

That afternoon, as Jisung planned, they leave the plucky blonde agent and her colleague, and exchange them for Chris, who they first meet at a burger place uptown where he regales them with (very boring, Jisung has to be honest) tales about the ups and down of the real estate market. Jisung films the entirety of their late lunch, but he's pretty sure most of it is going to be cut.

Afterwards, just as Jisung had asked him to do days ago, Chris takes them to see a few apartments in the area that fit Jisung's budget.

“Okay.” Minho seems to be in awe as Chris shows them a spacious three-bedroom. “You can't afford a house, but you can afford to seriously consider a three bedroom?”

“This area is up and coming,” Chan, who overhears them, inserts himself into the conversation. “But most of the apartments are still going at a reasonable price right now, which is why I suggest you take it before anyone else does.”

“Um.” Jisung winces, more than a little hesitant. This is supposed to be the part where he lays it on thick and he tries to push Minho into suggesting they become roommates.

Jisung had even planned it all mentally ahead of time; he was going to casually ask questions about Minho's lease—supposedly to compare so he can make an ‘informed’ decision, but truth is that he is well aware that Minho’s lease is due to expire the following month. If that passive-aggressive tactic didn't work, he was resigned to giving in and just asking Minho directly if he would be interested in rooming together and splitting the rent, but his best friend's news has changed all of that.

He can't exactly ask Minho to be roommates if Minho is going to be working 3000 miles away. Clearly, the commute would be awful. (Har har, he can't even bring tomorrow to mentally laugh at his own lame joke.)

“‘Sung?” Minho calls to him, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you in there?”

“Huh?” Jisung blinks. “Err—yeah.”

Minho shakes his head, flashing him an exasperated but amused smile. “You want me to hold the camera for a while? Chan was saying there's a nice view from the master's bedroom.”

Jisung shakes his head, instead tightening his grip on the camera stick and turning his extrovert mode on by flashing a bright smile at the camera.

“Let’s look at this famed view then!” he agrees, sounding a bit too enthusiastic; it's obvious that he catches Minho slightly off-guard with the way his countenance bounces from 0 to 100 in a quick second, but he adjusts quickly, clearly used to how Jisung easily switches his YouTuber mode on and off. “Maybe that will be the tipping point, the reason I sign the lease,” Jisung surmises as he circles around the living area, making sure to capture every inch of the empty room, and dragging Minho along with him in the process. “But for the record, this is definitely the best apartment we've seen so far today—and also the last. Maybe that's the sign?” 

Minho laughs. “Personally, I think the fully furnished kitchen is the best feature,” he talks to the camera as well; he's been trying his best to be natural at talking to Jisung's audience and Jisung appreciates it, even though he can't help but feel like Minho is doing so only because he knows it'll probably be the last time. “But—it's not as if Jisungie will need a roasting oven to boil water for ramen, which as you all know by now is the extent of his culinary prowess.”

Jisung hits his shoulder. “Hey! I can scramble eggs too!”

“Maybe you should be the one to cook our dinner tonight then,” Minho teases; to the camera he adds, “After this we're going shopping and heading over mine to make dinner. You're going to witness Jisung's hopelessness in the kitchen again—aren't you excited?” He snickers, no doubt remembering the last time he had agreed to film cooking content for Jisung 's channel.

It was the famed “Recreating Studio Ghibli Food — Try Not To Eat!” episode; they had rented cooking space for the material, and it had been a complete hit in terms of views, but also a complete mess in terms of actually filming. Frankly, it was one of Jisung's favorite videos that he made  despite everything.

“Whatever,” he waves dismissively, and flashes the cheekiest grin he can muster. “Even more exciting—Minho's apartment reveal!”

Minho snorts. “That really isn't as exciting,” he says, mimicking Jisung's expressive hand wave. “I live in a tiny apartment in a shittier part of town, guys,” he tells the camera. “Unlike—” he holds up his and Jisung's still handcuffed hands, “—this one here and all his fancy real estate choices.”

“Stop!” Jisung huffs in a show of exaggerated petulance, and pulls their hands back down. “Minho's place is actually very nice! We're going to do a live stream later while we cook, so I guess by the time I actually drop this video some of you will already have seen it.” Despite Minho's original declaration that they won't be filming him cooking them dinner, he was the one to suggest live streaming their kitchen adventures, and who is Jisung to say no to such promising content? He points his pointer finger down. “Comment below what you think of Minho's apartment!”

“Okay, but Jisung's scrambled eggs are worth more comments and likes, right?” Minho chimes in, laughing.

“Oy!” Jisung pinches the back of Minho's hand. “No one cares about my scrambled eggs—they're all tuning in to watch you prepare a nice meal for me.” He turns to face Minho and bats his eyes.

Minho rolls his eyes, even sighing dramatically as if exasperated, but once again he doesn't really bother arguing. “Fine, fine!”

Jisung hands the camera stick to Minho as he takes his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to tweet and ask what our dinner should be,” he tells their imaginary audience as he pulls up the Twitter app, Minho peering over his shoulder. “Make sure you choose wisely!”

Because it's gonna be my goodbye meal, he almost adds, but he realizes at the last second that the words might put an awkward spotlight on his honest sadness about Minho leaving—and he can't have that energy in the video; never mind that he could probably edit it out if he wants. 

It's going to be a celebratory meal, he also almost says instead—but even those words refuse to slide off his tongue. They didn't film Minho telling him about the job offer anyway, and he doesn't want to have to explain what they're supposedly celebrating. 

“Come on,” Chris interrupts again, and Minho automatically swings the camera towards his direction. “Thought you guys wanted to see the view!”

“So, today, we're going to be making braised pork short ribs!” Minho announces to the camera that Jisung has set up on a mini tripod in Minho’s tiny but well furnished kitchen.

Just as they had planned (and announced to Jisung's subscribers in advance), they had turned on an Instagram livestream for Jisung's followers to tune into. In part, it was to (of course) satisfy Jisung's subscribers, but it was also so that Minho can more naturally interact with a live audience.

“One of my favorite Korean dishes! So thanks for choosing so wisely.” Jisung tells the audience, squinting at the barrage of comments that pour in.

“Very good!” Minho gives them a thumb up with his free hand. “Always remember that when we're faced with decisions in life, we have to choose wisely!”

Jisung beams, only to start cracking up at some of the comments that come in. “They're saying that anything you cook is my favorite,” he tells Minho.

Minho laughs at that. “Or maybe our Jisungie is just not very discerning when it comes to food. He likes to eat anything and everything!”

“Hey! Not being picky is a good thing!” Jisung huffs. “And I don't like everything. I can't eat anything spicy. My brother used to tease me about that. He would tell me he was going to get my Korean card revoked because I couldn't handle fire noodles. Is it my fault if I prefer my taste buds not burnt?!”

Minho keeps laughing, shaking his head. 

“Someone’s asking how well you can handle spicy food,” Jisung reads aloud next, smirking as he elbows Minho. “He's bad at it, too,” he answers confidently. 

Minho shakes his head. “I handle it fine. I like spicy food!” He chuckles and flashes two thumbs up at the direction of the camera, Jisung's wrist limply dangling next to his hand as he gawks at Minho.

“Why are you lying?!”

Minho laughs. “I'm not! I love spicy food! Fire noodles can be intense but I can handle them.”

“But—” Jisung squints at him. “I never see you eat spicy food!”

Minho shrugs. “I don't order spicy food when we're together,” he explains succinctly without going into detail.

“Wait—because of me?” 

Minho chuckles; shrugs. “We always share when we eat out—and you just said you prefer your taste buds unburnt.”

“Oh.” For a brief second Jisung is speechless; warmth spreads across his chest as the thoughtfulness of what Minho has been doing all along settles. And then he remembers that they have a live audience and he laughs. “That's our Minho!” He tells the camera. 

“Anyway!” Minho declares, dispelling the sudden tension in the air between them by grinning at the camera and lifting their joint wrists to show it to the audience yet again. “Our Jisungie has no choice but to help me with today's meal!”

“But I'm in charge of reading everyone's comments!” Jisung whines brattily.

“Well you just have to learn how to multitask,” Minho tells him; with his free hand he gestures at the items spread out across the table in front of them. “We already made sure to have everything ready and within our reach,” he explains to their streaming audience, “obviously because running around the kitchen is going to be a hassle.”

With that, he starts identifying all the ingredients and kitchen tools that they’re going to be using; every so often Jisung would interrupt with a silly quip, or with a question or comment that he reads from the tablet screen that's set up next to the camera.

Minho gives him easy to follow instructions—but every step is still a little complicated to pull off if only because they have to do every single task together, with Jisung acting as the right hand, while Minho, in all his ambidextrous glory,  acts as the left.

“Careful before you peel my skin off!” Minho barks at him at one point when they peel potatoes together.

“Don’t chop my finger off!” Jisung returns some minutes later, when he holds steady a large radish that Minho is about to cube.

“Are we boring our watchers yet?” Minho asks playfully at one point, when they both become so engrossed in preparing the needed ingredients that they both almost forget about the live stream.

Jisung glances at the tablet, and if the quick scrolling of the viewers' comments are something to go by, their audience seem to actually be enjoying watching their teamwork even if they've completely neglected addressing their audience in favor of their natural banter with each other.

Jisung squints and attempts to read more comments, only to flush at some of them. “They're accusing us of having our own world,” he says.

Minho scoffs. “If that's true anyway, then should we just end the stream now?” he asks, smirking at the camera and using a mischievous tone.

A barrage of emphatically capitalized NO's ping across the tablet screen and both of them laugh at that.

“It's very important to be focused when you're cooking. We don't want to burn down our homes!” Minho points out.

They're almost done with prep either way, and soon Minho is just placing the pot over the stove so that they can start boiling the meat; he recites out loud the initial ingredients that are to go in with the meat—onions, ginger, peppercorns—and then he shows the audience as he sets his phone timer to alarm in 20 minutes.

“Should we answer more questions while we wait for the meat to boil?” Jisung asks in his affected announcer tone; once again comments ping one after another, but this time Minho also curiously reads through the words speeding by.

“Someone just asked why I like you so much,” Minho says out loud; Jisung had seen that as well but he chose to ignore it. That Minho had not makes his face feel warm, but he laughs anyway.

“Why do you like me so much, huh?” Jisung asks, turning to look at Minho. He figures if he uses a joking tone, it wouldn't be too obvious that he's just as curious—and strangely nervous—about what Minho would answer.

“Tch.” Minho clicks his tongue. “Changbin, is that you?!” He asks brashly, which makes Jisung laugh.

“Changbin?” He doesn't know why their friend is even being brought up—has Changbin asked Minho this question before? Is that why? Jisung is confused, but still, he can't help but find the way Minho says it funny.

“Let me make this clear,” Minho gestures towards the camera, before shaking their joint hands, “he's the one who likes me!”

Jisung feels heat cover his entire face at that, and he hopes the audience will assume that it's because it's hot in Minho's kitchen, and not because Minho's words are ringing too true.

He lets out a lengthy exhale, and then he makes a show of scoffing. “He's the one who's always hanging around me!” he claims in an argumentative tone. “I only like him because he has inundated me with his presence. He gave me no choice—he Stockholmed me into liking him!”

“Wow, he really just compared our friendship dynamics to a hostage taker and their victims,” Minho deadpans. “This is what I have been reduced to.”

They turn to look at each other, and when their eyes meet the two of them burst into cacophonic laughter. 

Their friendship truly means a lot to Jisung; the way they ride each other's wavelength comes so naturally and he almost wants to correct the viewers himself—it's not that Minho likes him a lot; just like Minho said, it really is the other way around.

It's Jisung who likes Minho perhaps a little too much; Jisung who appreciates that Minho has made himself so accessible to Jisung; Jisung who enjoys the fact Minho is always hanging around him.

And then he remembers that Minho isn't going to be around him for much longer and he has to fight not to let his smile falter.

“Let’s play a game,” Jisung suggests.

After dinner, they had left the dirty dishes in the sink, deciding together that they would just wash them the next day once their hands were freed from each other.

Instead, they settled in the living area, moving their camera set-up there. At first they put on a movie—a random B-grade horror flick that was on Minho's Netflix suggestions—and filmed their reactions to it for around half an hour before Jisung  turned the camera off and they simply watched the rest of it, pressed close together and making silly remarks at the plot's silly trajectory.

But now the movie is over, and it's barely ten in the evening—it's been a long day yet somehow they still have ten hours left remaining on the challenge.

Hence Jisung's brilliant solution: a game. 

The suggestion is not an impromptu one; playing games while drinking together is right there, near the bottom of Jisung's list of Things To Do during this 24-hour challenge with Minho. There was even an asterisk next to the bulleted point, a note in bright red ink reminding him not to get too carried away with the alcohol, lest he end up with mostly unusable content.

“Drunk mission jenga,” Minho immediately suggests with a sly glint in his eyes. Jisung hadn't shared his list of Things To Do with him, but as usual he's quick to follow along, making the suggestion as if he's been waiting all day to give it.

Jisung snorts. “No!” He's quick to veto. “I know you have the drunk jenga set somewhere in your room but there's a reason we hardly ever play that game even with our friends!” A few years ago, Minho and Jisung were in charge of Game Night at their student organization, and among other things, they had bought a jenga set and proceeded to write custom missions on the blocks; the game has since seen a fair amount of usage, especially when there's alcohol involved.

Minho snickers. “Do your fans know about your drunk jenga shenanigans?”

“Of course not!” Jisung grimaces. “What am I supposed to tell them? That I kept getting Twerk X Amount Of Times, because that was pretty much the only thing written on half the blocks? The rest were mostly variations of Down X Shots?”

“Hey, there are at least two SKIP blocks,” Minho argues. “Also one Spell Your Full Name With Your Butt. Oh and also Give The Next Player A Smooch! But that one was Changbin’s doing when he was still trying to actively get into Hyunjin's pants. Fun times.”

“Not sure it'd be much fun when Changbin watches this and he sees all the slander you have been bringing to his name all day.”

Minho laughs and playfully—also exaggeratedly—bats his eyes at Jisung, leaning so closely that their noses are practically touching. “Only if you promise to keep all mentions of him in the final footage,” he snarks.

Jisung rolls his eyes and leans away, just a tad. “Whatever, but the bottom line is my subs are never gonna see my dreadful twerking.”

“Awww Jisungie,” Minho coos in a deliberately annoying way. “You have a nice perky butt perfect for it!” 

“So what you're saying is that you're obsessed with my ass,” Jisung retorts. “Gotcha.”

Instead of answering, Minho looks directly at the camera. “You all wanna see, right? If you do, just leave a comment—and then make sure to like this video and subscribe to our Jisungie's channel!”

Jisung groans and suspiciously squints at Minho for not even trying to deny; at the same time, a smile uncontrollably tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Pft. Anyway!” he huffs. “This is my channel and what I say goes,” Jisung declares. “We’re playing Never Have I Ever. Easy, basic—well, not as basic as Truth or Dare, obviously, but it's a game that everyone knows and is easy to play with two people. And—” Jisung scrolls through his phone, laughing. “My followers actually sent in a bunch of Never Have I Ever suggestions a few days ago when I asked them to.”

Minho laughs along, pressing even closer next to Jisung as he tries to catch a glimpse of his phone screen. “Are we allowed to drink in front of your audience though?”

Jisung hums, and picks up one of the tall glasses on the coffee table in front of them that's already filled to the brim with amber liquid. “Why wouldn't we be allowed to drink ginger ale?” he jokes before taking a small sip. Truth is, he's feeling bold because he knows he can simply edit it out if they end up spilling too much for comfort. “Remember when I did a collab video with Yeonjun on his channel once, and we tried a bunch of different flavored beers?”

Minho cackles. “I remember that. The Asian flush on both of you was quite a sight. You were literally a shot away from being drunk by the end of that shoot—which brings me to,” he grins slyly, “Never Have I Ever drunk dialed my best friend!”

Jisung groans, but he does take a larger gulp from his glass; afterwards, he gives Minho a pointed look. “You do realize that you're not supposed to incriminate yourself right?”

“Well I wanted to drink too.” Minho laughs and chugs down about as much as Jisung did. “Your turn.”

“Never Have I Ever...” Jisung purses his lips as scrolls down the Twitter app for suggestions from his followers, “played hooky at school—or work.”

Minho lifts an eyebrow, and takes another drink. “What happened to not incriminating yourself? We both know you've played hooky more than just a few times.”

Jisung chuckles; wipes his mouth with the back of the hand that's connected to Minho's after he drinks. “It's true, I have,” he admits, rolling his eyes. “And most of those times were with you! I never skipped a single class in high school—but meeting you changed me,” he says with dramatic solemnity. “Clearly you're an awful influence.”

Minho laughs even more. “Are you complaining? Do you not always have fun whenever you choose my stellar company over boring lectures?”

“That doesn't change the nefarious nature of your influence!”

Minho cackles. “At least you have a great time.”

“Fine. It's true. The devil does know how to show us mere mortals a good time.”

Minho grins; thoughtfully taps a finger against the side of his glass. “Ah—Never Have I Ever gotten busted using a fake ID.”

Jisung groans at the reminder. “That fake ID cost me a fortune and it didn't even pass the shitty scrutiny of a fifty year old gas attendant,” he grumbles as he takes a sip.

“He was a freshman,” Minho relays to the audience. “And he spent a fortune on a fake ID because he wouldn't listen to me when I told him that I knew someone who could get him one with a big discount.”

“How was I supposed to know that Seungmin had a fake ID business on the side?!”

Minho starts cracking up; he slaps Jisung's arm with his free hand. “You better edit that out or Seungmin is gonna off us both.”

Jisung grins cheekily at the camera; he knows he really is going to have to edit out this part but that doesn't stop him. “That's right, our friend Seungmin who is headed to law school this September—his side hustle was making fake IDs!”

“Since high school, to boot,” Minho echoes. Jisung sometimes forgets that Minho had gone to the same high school as Seungmin; generally he forgets that Minho had a life before they met, but in his defense he forgets this about himself a lot as well.

Jisung keeps giggling, buzzing with joy. He's pretty sure he's nowhere near tipsy yet; he just gets naturally excitable with Minho.

“Okay!” he declares. “Never Have I Ever… tried eating my pet's food before!”

Minho wrinkles his nose and looks at him with incredulity. “Do I look like my name is Hyunjin Hwang?”

Jisung tilts his head and gives him a pointed look in return. “Minho,” he says simply, pointedly, and at that Minho grumbles softly and takes a small sip of his beer.

That cracks Jisung up; he reaches over with his free hand and lightly flicks Minho’s bright red ear.

“I was ten! We just got a cat for the first time and I wanted to check if their food tasted good!” he defends himself hotly.

Jisung just keeps laughing. “Yeah, yeah. You were being cute and responsible.”

“Tch.” Minho scoffs. “Whatever.” At the camera, he adds, stoically, “For the record it tasted like bland tuna.”

Jisung's laughter, which had already been petering out, comes back in full force to the point that his drink almost comes back up his nose.

Minho, looking proud, grins at him. At first he tries to pound Jisung's back to calm him down with the hand that's still cuffed to Jisung's, but it proves more effort than worth it when Jisung winces after having to twist his arm in an attempt to make the gesture work. Minho ends up patting Jisung on the thigh, under the coffee table, away from the camera's line of sight. It's a bit of an erogenous zone for him, which he absolutely doesn't expect Minho to know, so he can't be blamed when Jisung feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention because of the touch.

He keeps coughing, for different reasons now.

“I’ve never had to do the walk of shame barefoot after I hooked up with a closeted asshole who made me go out through the fire exit at 6 in the morning after their roommate sashayed into their apartment, doing their own version of the walk of shame.” Minho immediately and completely attacks once Jisung's wheezing completely dies out; he's certainly playing now.

“That is so fucking specific.” Jisung pretends to glare at Minho; he's had his fair share of bad decisions when it comes to men, to be frank. He snorts before taking a drink. “Do you think I should cut that bit out? Preserve Voldemort's dignity?”

Minho laughs. “No, make the asshole squirm,” he huffs. “But I guess you can censor the last half of the statement. Like—Never Have I Ever had to do the walk of shame— BEEP! BEEP! BEEEEEP!”

At that Jisung can't help but crack up yet again; only Minho can make the reminder of less than stellar parts of Jisung's dating history funny.

“Anyway.” Jisung sniffs; turns and narrows his eyes at Minho. “Never Have I Ever pretended to be drunk after two shots of vodka just so I can give one of my friends a lap dance.”

Clearly, they're doing away with the fan suggestions now and being more personal and targeted.

Minho gasps sharply, and then he shakes his head before picking his drink up and taking a large swig off it. “Technically it was two shots of tequila,” he corrects after he puts his now near empty glass back down. “Maybe I shouldn't have drank.”

Jisung snorts. “Touch move!”

“I’m not sure that's how you use that phrase?” Minho chortles. “And anyway, it was Hyunjin's birthday. That lap dance was his birthday gift—” he looks at the camera. “You're welcome Hyunjin! I know you know that was the best present you received last year!”

Jisung guffaws. “Hey! You've never given me a lap dance!” He huffs, pretending to be petty and salty—but also, maybe a small part of him isn't really pretending.

Minho lifts an eyebrow and gives him a questioning look. “Are you saying you want me to give you one?”

“Well Hyunjin got one!” Jisung actually pouts, and he wants to think that it's the alcohol; that it's actually starting to get to him. He's not exactly a heavyweight when it comes to drinking.

“What—you want one now?” Minho teases, playful as he starts to get up from his sitting position.

“No! This is a PG-13 video!” Jisung huffs; pulls Minho back down on the floor a little too sharply. Frankly, the dance Minho gave Hyunjin on his birthday is still fresh in Jisung's memory even though it happened an entire year ago. Something about the roll of Minho's hips had been extremely mesmerizing and unforgettable. He feels hot even now, just remembering it.

“Ow!” Minho yelps. “You said we can edit things out!” he points out.

“So now you've moved on to pretending to be drunk after a glass of beer so you can give your best friend a lap dance?”

Minho blinks; and then he starts laughing. “Well that was a last chance offer. Your loss.”

And then, without warning he leans over Jisung so he could reach for the plate of chicken nuggets that happen to be closer to Jisung's other side.

It shouldn't be a big deal, really, except their joined hands—which had been resting on Jisung's lap—move in the process, lightly— accidentally— grazing against Jisung's crotch area.

Minho doesn't seem to notice at first, preoccupied with moving the plate of nuggets closer to him.

Except Jisung freezes, and that doesn't escape Minho's attention.

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing—” Jisung quickly answers.

But maybe he answered too quickly, too defensively, because then Minho glances down and immediately sees that Jisung is— embarrassingly— semi hard in his pants. Fuck, he thinks, because he's always been very much a horny drunk and Minho is well aware of this fact. It's not his fault that a simple brush is stimulating, especially if the memory of his best friend being ridiculously sexy was already playing in his thoughts.

“Oh.” Minho blinks; slowly brings his gaze back up to meet Jisung's directly. “Do you like—need help with that or something?” Minho asks, playful, taunting—because it's just like Minho to give Jisung hell for this.

There's only a brief moment of awkwardness before the two of them simultaneously burst into laughter.

“Just hit me with the worst boner killer image you can think of,” Jisung demands, groaning as he reaches behind him to grab one of the couch pillows, using it to cover the embarrassing tent in his pants.

Minho, meanwhile, hardly lets him finish his sentence. “Changbin’s attempt at turkey roast last Friendsgiving,” he immediately suggests.

That doesn't exactly do the trick but it does manage to pull shallow laughter out of Jisung, which is a start. His reaction has Minho grinning smugly.

“Definitely high up there when we're talking awful images,” Jisung concedes.

Minho chuckles. “Okay, so I read somewhere that if you forcefully flex a large muscle actively for around thirty seconds to a minute, a boner goes away,” he offers instead. “I’ve never tried it though.” 

The soft, concerned way he looks at Jisung isn't really helping either, and Jisung has to clench his eyes shut. He tries to think of nothing else but the disaster that was their friend's attempt at cooking, while he shifts to a squatting position, consciously flexing both his thighs while he does it.

Miraculously, the trick works; even more miraculously, there is no trace of awkwardness between the two of them at all after that. Or, Jisung ponders, maybe that isn't really a miracle; it's just how he and Minho operate. They bounce back easily from anything and everything, including but not limited to impromptu boners, and it's part of why Jisung has never dared chase after more.

Minho is his best friend, his safe zone, and any kind of real change to their dynamic might lose him that comfortable net. And so, as usual, despite that hint of something more; something daring in Minho's tone upon offering so-called ‘help,’ Jisung retreats and brings them back to familiar, even ground.

They keep throwing more targeted Never Have I Ever statements at each other, but they stop once they finish four bottles of low-alcohol beer between the two of them. The goal was never to get drunk but to pass time and generate content.

Afterwards, they leave the empty bottles on the kitchen counter and the empty glasses and extra dishes in the sink—to be washed in the morning with the rest of the dirty dishes from dinner.

The real struggle comes as they try to wash their faces and brush their teeth, because for some reason even with all cameras off, they're still staying true to the 24-hour handcuffed challenge.

“Should we just take these off so we can change into more comfortable clothes?” Jisung finally suggests after they somehow finish brushing.

“What?” Minho looks legitimately affronted. “No way! After everything we've already gone through today, now you want to cheat?!”

Jisung whines. “But what if I need to do number one?”

Minho pauses and gives him a half judging look. “Do you?”

Jisung sighs. “Not really,” he admits. “But no one will even have to know. I already turned the camera off!”

“We’ll know!” Minho argues. “Are you a cheater?”

“No.” Jisung huffs. “Fine. Remind me again why I asked you to do this with me?” 

“Because you love me,” Minho answers simply. “And your fans love me more,” he adds, teasing.  

Jisung's wrist is feeling quite chuffed by now, and even though he and Minho had made fun of the pink fuzz decorating the bracelets, he's actually a little thankful for them.

Minho's bed isn't foreign to him; he's fallen asleep on it a few too many times over the years that the two of them have been best friends, but it feels a little uncomfortable for the first time ever.

Maybe it's the way they're both laying on their backs, shoulder to shoulder, because it's a little hard to curl against each other like they usually do with their still joined hands.

When long minutes pass and Jisung feels as awake as ever, he wonders why he didn't push harder on unlocking the cuffs; maybe it would help him sleep if he could position himself however he wanted.

He slowly tries to shift and turn to his side, but he inadvertently ends up pulling his wrist a little too hard; as a result he hears a soft, whiny grunt come from the person next to him.

Oops.

“Minho?” he whispers carefully. “Are you awake?”

The other man only hums in response, and Jisung gives up squirming around to find the most comfortable position.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “Couldn't sleep.”

A few quiet beats pass, and then he feels Minho's fingers intertwine with his, before sheets rustle and Jisung realizes that Minho has turned on his side to be able to face Jisung.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Minho questions. “Or is something in your mind bothering you?”

Jisung shrugs.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Does he? There are a lot of things floating in his thoughts; he wants to sort them out and organize them but having Minho in such close proximity is honestly distracting him too much. Before he can make up his mind whether or not he wants to share, Minho lets out an impatient sigh. 

“Never mind,” he mutters, and rolls onto his back once more. “It's okay if you don't.”

The dismissal makes Jisung frown; he can tell there's something underlying with the shortness of Minho's tone but he isn't sure what.

“I’ll talk about it,” he blurts out; then, without waiting for Minho to respond, he adds, “I don't want you to go. To Seattle, I mean.” 

He winces the moment the words are out of his mouth. Hearing them out loud, he can tell that he said them wrong.

“I mean—” he scrambles to correct himself. “I don't—I don't want to let you go.”

He's pretty sure that isn't a much better way of expressing his feelings. He's also pretty sure that he's an idiot.

There's prolonged silence, one that increasingly lends tension to the air as seconds tick by. It's strange and Jisung is unused to it, but Jisung remains frozen, his free hand clenched.

“That's bullshit,” Minho mumbles.

“Excuse me?”

“Bullshit,” Minho repeats, this time louder.

“What… is?” Jisung cringes; he reads Minho's words as a dismissal of some sort and it stings.

“You,” Minho answers firmly. “You suddenly saying that you don't want to let me go. That's BS.”

“I know.” Jisung sighs, ashamed. He really does know; his jaw tightens. Knowing doesn't necessarily equate to being rational. “I know I'm being selfish and ridiculous, so please forget I said anything.”

“No—” Minho sounds conflicted. “It's not that—” His breath hitches. “I mean. Yes, you're right, but—” he sighs. “You know what? Never mind. You'll be fine, ‘Sung. Our friends always say that I need you more than you need me— so. Yeah. You'll be fine. But I'll be fine, too, because it's about time I do something about my dependency on you, and maybe this opportunity is it.”

Jiaung frowns, his confusion only doubling due to Minho's words. “What?”

“I guess… I'm just saying, don't say things like you don’t want me to go.” Minho inhales deeply, and when he exhales, it's shaky and nervous. He loosens his hold on Jisung's hand and that makes Jisung nervous as well; but all he can do is wiggle his fingers and grasp at air. “‘Sung—you know… you know that I like you a lot. I like you so much more than you probably like me. And it's unfair to yank me around like you do, to suddenly just tell me that… that you don't want to let me go, when you've—when we've had years of dancing around each other. Every time we get close to crossing a line, you dial things back—and I can't fault you for your boundaries, but I'm—” Minho groans, clearly frustrated. “I'm just—just trying to break that cycle and move along.”

“I kn—” He had been all set to agree; to reiterate that he does know he's being unfair, but the rest of Minho's words register and suddenly he's befuddled. “Wait. What? Like… me? More?” Jisung blinks in the dark; and then he scoffs because what the fuck? He always thought that he and Minho were on the same wavelength; had the same understanding. That they were both toeing the line because what they have was too precious to risk. He didn't realize how much Minho had been misinterpreting him all along.

But—he supposes that it's true, in a way. Time and again, their friends have joked; have pointed out that Minho relies on Jisung a lot; that Minho only goes to Jisung when he needs a pick-me-up. Jisung has always laughed at the allegations, but he has never really denied any of them.

Maybe because, in a way, he has always reveled in the idea that someone like Minho—someone as self-sufficient and as collected as Minho—needed him, of all people. Especially when the truth is that he had always needed Minho just as much if not more.

This time, he's the one who shifts and rolls onto his side so he can face Minho. “You know that's what's bullshit, right?” he asserts with a frown.

“Huh?”

“You… you thinking like that,” Jisung huffs. “You believing what everyone else says about you needing me more—” he snorts. “I almost have to laugh.”

Once again, Minho turns so that they're face to face. The room is dark, but they're so close to each other that it's not hard to make out each other's features.

“Seungmin once made a passing comment,” Minho starts, “he said I can't live without you. It was a joke, I guess and I told him to piss off but—” he shrugs. “There was truth to it, I suppose, because I could easily see how it could seem that way sometimes. Most of the time.” He swallows, and Jisung feels the tension in the air thicken. “I always want to be around you ‘Sung, and I started thinking that maybe that's not fair of me. When we first met you were still green. A little bit naïve and so, so anxious and I guess I took you under my wing in part because of that. But these days, it's as if you've bloomed into a very confident person, ready to take on the world—and I'm so proud of you, but I still want to be near you all the time that I think I started coming to you for everything. In a way, I conditioned myself to lean on you more and more—too much, even. And I wasn't this person before you, ‘Sung—”

“No—” Jisung tries to cut him off. “I mean yeah, I'm a lot more confident than I used to be. A lot more self-reliant than I used to be, but a lot of that is actually because of you.” He frowns. “Minho, it's because you're always near me that I feel like I can be me with no worries.”

“I don't think you need me to feel that way anymore,” Minho says softly.

“Maybe not,” Jisung admits. “But I don't believe that you rely on me any more than I lean on you. Besides, I enjoy when you rely on me. It makes me feel useful—like I'm giving back everything you gave to me. Are giving to me.”

Jisung thinks he notices Minho smile faintly; it's too dark to really tell but he hopes, anyway. 

“Maybe not,” Minho echoes. He shifts onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “Maybe it's something else entirely that I'm running away from.”

“Minho…”

“I’m in love with you Jisungie,” he says simply. Out of the blue, seemingly random, but also not really. He says the words like the meaning is a given; expected; known. “So,” Minho continues, “maybe you need me as much as I need you, but you don't want me as much as I want you.”

There's more silence. Pregnant, uncomfortable. And then Jisung bursts into loud, obnoxious laughter.

“Minho,” he wheezes; he really wants to cry now. “You're a fucking idiot.”

Just like every other memory Jisung has of Minho, the first time they actually got drunk together, just the two of them, is very clear in his head; sharp, vivid, 4k quality.

That night, Minho had just won a six-bottle set of different flavored soju from a raffle at a winter event that their Korean-American student group had held, and Jisung had tagged along to his apartment because he wanted to “taste test and review all the soju flavors!” 

Minho ended up deciding that he liked peach the best—because it was perfect for soju bombs, apparently.

Jisung, meanwhile, had preferred grapefruit—that was the sweet, stinging flavor he tasted on Minho's lips. Because in a moment of drunk daring, they had kissed.

Minho's face had been so, so red, flushed because of the alcohol; the apples of his cheeks almost cherry in color and distracting Jisung from everything else. They were playing Dare or Drink, and without much thought or consideration Jisung had blurted out,

“I dare you to kiss me!”

Like he was in a silly teen romcom from the 2000’s. His own face had heated up immediately but he didn't really get the chance to feel real embarrassment because Minho had been quick—almost instant—to respond.

“I dare you to make the first move,” he shot right back.

The game was not supposed to be played that way but at that moment Jisung didn't really care. He acted swiftly, throwing his arms around Minho and practically lunging at his best friend.

And then they were kissing; Jisung was tasting Minho, seeking entrance into his mouth and licking inside and realizing that he was having a taste of something that he could never get enough of.

And then Minho felt like he was everywhere; under Jisung's touch, all around him, and he was kissing Jisung harder, deeper, with a need so fervent and urgent; as if stopping could make the moment somehow disappear—and Jisung understood it completely.

But the thing is, Jisung might have boxed his attraction to and his feelings for his best friend; might have pushed them to the furthest recesses of his mind, but it was still there. Quiet, looming—and every now and then Jisung's heart would dare open it; would dare peek and try it on for size, and every single time it would feel too big, too immense, too overwhelming so he would shove them right back into the box, where they feel safe, guarded.

The day after the kiss, neither of them really talked about it.

When they wake up in the morning, Jisung's left arm feels dead but he doesn't really care, because the first sight he sees is that of Minho's peaceful, sleeping face and it makes him smile.

“Minho,” he whispers, so softly because he's not sure if he actually wants to wake him, or if he wants the chance to stare at his handsome face some more.

“Jisung,” Minho whispers back, which renders whatever decision Jisung would have made moot. “Stop staring,” Minho murmurs sleepily. The corner of his mouth twitches though, the sign of a smile trying to make itself known.

I'm in love with you too, you moron. 

Those were the words that Jisung had thrown back at Minho the night before. Words conveying feelings that he had been hiding for so long because he was scared of being too greedy; of breaching boundaries that apparently were only in his head. For all that he was scared of losing Minho by asking for more, not trying for more had ended up exactly the reason why he almost lost his best friend; why he almost lost the opportunity to turn his best friend into something more.

Minho was going to move away to move on from Jisung, when all that Jisung himself wanted was to keep him at his side; for the two of them to move forward together, not apart.

But here they are, literally still tied to each other, and finally, very clearly and openly, of the same mind.

“What time is it?” Minho asks.

“8, I think.” Jisung nods towards the digital clock on Minho's bedside that's displaying 8:09 AM in bright red.

Minho groans. “So still an hour of this?” he complains, holding up their cuffed hands.

“Yep. You're still stuck with me.”

Minho snorts. “Still stuck with you,” he agrees.

They had finally fallen asleep around 2 in the morning; maybe close to 3, arms and legs tangled together as they gave each other lazy kisses in between I love you's whispered into each other's mouths, on each other's skin, ranging from desperate to sweet to matter-of-fact, each one uttered as if to make up for all the time they spent depriving each other of their feelings for one another.

They never did get to really talk once the mutual confessions were uttered, and right now, in the broad daylight, Jisung suddenly feels like their relationship is balancing on an imaginary tightrope; they could fall off and reset, pretend nothing was said or done; or they can carefully tread across the line and start something anew.

“Do you want me to unlock the cuffs now?” Jisung asks.

“No—we only have an hour left, why are you suggesting that again?” Minho replies groggily.

Jisung chuckles. “So it'll be easier to move around and make coffee, for one.”

“They do say that anything worth having requires a little bit of effort,” Minho returns, a bit more awake now if the hint of cheekiness in his tone is anything to go by.

“Tch.” Jisung huffs; he looks at Minho, apprehensive yet intense. “I was thinking we should have a conversation.”

“Oh? What kind?” He sounds like he's being purposefully obtuse, and something tired and weary thumps in Jisung's chest.

“Minho—”

But then Minho's pretty lips curve into a mirthful smile, and he leans in to kiss Jisung on the mouth. Immediately that calms him down; reassures him.

“I don't want to stay here,” Minho says gently. “If that's what you want to talk about. The job in Seattle is a very good opportunity and…”

“Yeah.” Jisung exhales softly. Despite what he said the previous night, he really wouldn't want to hold Minho back from opportunities that are presented to him. “Of course you should go.” The smile that curves on his face this time is bittersweet, but still genuine. “I just—I want to try despite the distance.”

Minho stares at him blankly and Jisung wonders if he had said the wrong thing. Does Minho not want the same thing? Is Jisung wrong in assuming that they have finally arrived at the same page?

“‘Sung,” Minho finally begins to respond. His voice is steadier now, clearly more awake than he was just a few minutes ago. “Ask me instead if you can go with me.”

It's Jisung's turn to stare. “I—” he blinks; he's reminded that he is graduating pretty soon. Most of his peers and same-aged friends are also going to be moving on with their lives, and for the first time, he begins to consider that despite the life he has built for himself in this city over the last four years, it doesn't actually have to be permanent. He has always figured that after graduation, he would be staying put; the biggest perk of chasing after a career as a YouTuber is that he can do it anywhere but he hadn't even considered going back home to his parents, to the town he had grown up in. Deep down, though, he knew his plans of staying had always been because out of everyone he has met in his adult life, Minho is the one who feels the most like home. And Minho was here, in this little college town of theirs that has been home to both of them for the last handful of years. But he supposes that's allowed to change, just like everything else. “I—” he stutters, “would you have me?”

“If you want to.” Minho smiles, soft, shy, fond. “I mean–we can get a nice two bedroom apartment to start with, and then we can turn the extra room into your filming studio. Maybe even find a place that allows pets so we can adopt a cat—we can afford that, I think.”

“Yes—” Jisung immediately answers. “Yes!” He laughs and lightly swats Minho's chest with their joined hands. “I have been trying to get you to ask to be roommates with me,” he admits, “but this… it's even better. Will you really let me go to Seattle with you?”

“It's actually what I want more than anything,” Minho admits, his ears a bright shade of red.

“Alright.” Jisung beams. It's so simple, the way the pieces of their individual lives naturally and seamlessly slot together, like the sum of their parts is a beautiful panoramic picture.

It dawns on him how silly he has been all this time; how Minho has been the same. Neither of them should have been so afraid of anything, because this is how they are—there was never anything to lose, because no matter what, they mold and fit into each other so perfectly.

ꕥ

“And that's the last of my things!” Jisung announces as he films Minho hauling the last of his boxes into the U-Haul truck they have rented together for their big move.

Things have suddenly been moving really fast for both of them. Jisung finally got his diploma a little over a week ago, and Minho is expected to start his new job in a couple of weeks—but in the meantime, an almost impromptu (decided on the night of Jisung's graduation, frankly) cross country road trip.

Once again, Jisung had convinced Minho to let him film this adventure for his channel. “It marks the start of bigger and better things for me!” he reasoned. “I wanna show that transition to my audience.”

This time Minho had pretended to hem and haw and whine, very dramatic and pointed, but as usual, in the end he had caved and actually seemed quite happy to do so.

“Just make sure that you get my good angles,” he even joked.

“You only have good angles,” Jisung teased, flirty yet genuine, and he had sniggered at the way Minho's ears had glowed bright red.

“You know I used to really dislike seeing us together in your videos,” Minho then proceeded to admit. 

“Huh?”

Minho had shrugged; had tried to seem casual and nonchalant. “I always felt like I was very obvious,” he admitted. “Like your audience could somehow tell that I… to you… you know. Yeah.” He was stumbling over his own words, and his ears were their telltale shade of red. 

As Minho's words slowly settled, Jisung had passed through various emotions in a span of a few seconds, from confused to surprised to ridiculously endeared.

He couldn't help but smile finally, as warmth spread through him. “You know, some fans do comment stuff like ‘Minho whipped!’” he teased. He wasn't lying—those kinds of comments were always in abundance, but he purposefully ignored them before, not really wanting to make a big deal out of them lest it affected his friendship with Minho. He had no need to do that anymore.

Minho huffed at him. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “It was embarrassing.”

“And true, apparently.” Jisung had grinned and kissed Minho on the cheek, a genuine attempt to comfort.

Now, after they finish hauling the rest of their luggage into the truck, Jisung rounds over to the car and slides into the front seat where he attaches the camera overhead. As he pulls his seatbelt, he can't help the soft yelp that escapes him when Minho suddenly throws something on his lap.

It takes him a beat before he realizes what it is—Hyunjin's pink handcuffs. 

“I stole them,” Minho declares when Jisung gives him an incredulous look. He grins cheekily, pulling his own seatbelt over his chest.

“What?” Jisung laughs. “You into this kind of thing now?” he asks, holding the item up with two fingers.

Minho snorts. “It's a keepsake now so I figured we should keep it. It's a reminder that you're cuffed to me now.”

Jisung groans. “So corny! Why are you so weird! It's like you've only gotten weirder after we got together.”

“Have I?” Minho chortles as he sticks the key into the ignition; he pauses before turning it, glancing at Jisung's direction to wink at him. “Guess it's a good thing you like weird.”

Jisung laughs and shakes his head. “Guess that's true. I do like weird—and I love you. It can't be helped.”

Minho beams and he leans in, giving Jisung a sweet peck on the lips before he finally starts the engine. “On to our new life,” he announces.

“New life,” Jisung echoes, beaming with joy. A new start, he thinks, confident and excited — because he knows it's going to be great as long as he has Minho still attached to his side.

ᶠⁱⁿ