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let's go our pace (but, like, hurry and hold my hand)

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Jisung was cool as fuck. 


He was the most talented rapper in JYP (in case someone asked. Jisung didn’t need to let them know that in fact Changbin and Chan were still unbeatable to him, lightyears ahead. But yes, if someone asked, Jisung would say he was the best, ‘cause that’s how life and training and confidence work, clearly), not to mention he wasn’t a bad vocalist either, not bad at all. Jisung was handsome and he never failed to be funny. He had female trainees giving him fluttering eyelashes and girls giggled and gushed among themselves after he’d pass them in the hallways. Jisung could basically feel his shoulders growing in width. Actually it was a blessing he didn’t have a gravelly deep, illegally attractive voice like Changbin, otherwise he could be charged for murder as girls would drop dead before him. But still, Jisung thought he was pretty fucking cool.


Jisung was in 3RACHA, he had great chances of debuting within a year or two and he could get the prettiest girl just by blinking. The only problem was this one guy. The “illegally attractive voice deep as the blackest oceans”, as they said about him, which, by the way, had zero effect on Jisung, none at all. Shivers didn’t run down his spine whenever he’d speak a bit too close to his ear in the mornings, goosebumps didn’t rise on his arms whenever they’d be practicing their new lyrics, faster and deeper (haha...ha) than before. And his looks, black hair and piercing eyes, jawline sharp enough to cut your finger on...nope, not affected. Jisung was Cool okay, not the one to have a worthless, stupid crush on his co-worker, on one of his closest friends. 


“You’re not that cool, dude.” 


Jisung almost fell down from the windowsill he was sitting on and fake gasped, “Changbinnie, bin-binnie, why would you assert things like that, I’m hurt!”, he crossed his arms and pouted at Changbin, pretending he hadn’t just given Jisung a heart attack by surprising him. Pretending his heart didn’t beat faster just by being near him. Fucking hell.


“For fuck’s sake, stop calling me that, I’m still your hyung!” 


“A cute, tiny hyung!” Jisung cooed and tried to grab Changbin’s cheeks. Changbin put all his tiny self into trying to murder Jisung with his glare. 


“Who raised you, you brat,” Changbin murmured lowly just as Chan entered the room. “Ah, speaking of which…” Changbin smirked knowingly at Jisung, Jisung trying to protest, whining about how Chan hyung did not raise me, I raised my own damn self!. Chan shook his head at the two, laughing. A bunch of idiots. Cute idiots. My idiots. 




So Jisung had basically since day one known he wanted to kiss Changbin. Wanted to hold his hand (which he did at every given opportunity) and cuddle him when his bed felt too empty and cold, and get his hair played by him. Jisung had had his throat go dry because of Changbin’s voice and his dark glances and cute giggles. He had gotten used to it, had learned where the line went and taught himself how not to cross it (hand holding every other day: Ok. Asking for pets wordlessly, by pushing your head into Changbin’s lap: A bit questionable, but goes. Cuddling: Only during day time, only when both tired enough for it to be too comfortable to complain -- Jisung hasn’t dared to ask for full-on night time cuddles yet. Maybe never will. -- Kisses: Not okay, Jisung, get your head into the game.)


And since Jisung was known as an overly affectionate person, this didn’t raise any eyebrows, not even from Chan. Things were good, going smooth. Sure, maybe sometimes (or like, a lot of the times) Jisung craved for more, but damn, he also knew how to be professional. Only when Changbin himself grabbed his hand totally out of the blue, casually while they were waiting for their food to arrive at 2 am as the three of them tried to write new lyrics, proceeding to softly play with Jisung’s rings-- then Jisung’s poor heart would have a hard time trying to beat at a normal pace, then Jisung had trouble swallowing down small rays of hope, thoughts like Maybe he likes me back, maybe he wants me like I still, still can’t stop wanting him . Eventually Jisung always succeeded, had to succeed, in order not to get his heart broken. He knew how this worked.


Or that’s what he thought. Then came the others.


First it was fine: the cute Jeongin with braces, bear-like Woojin, asshole Hyunjin who he kinda just pretended to hate, you know, for the laughs (but like, still really wanted to punch every once in a while) and finally Seungmin, who looked like he grew up with chandeliers or maybe swimming pools and private tutoring but turned out to be a total nerd and the funniest kid in the whole of JYP. That was all fine, they were all fine. No problem. Jisung’s life would’ve been a hell lot easier if that was all. 


Jisung remembers the day he first walked in, hunched in on himself, speaking in broken and stuttering korean, big bright eyes, freckles and dark, fluffy hair. Small and unsure, but as Jisung introduced himself with a kind smile and Felix found out he knew quite a bit english, Felix came out of his shell must faster than Jisung expected. His laugh, it spread like wildfire and swope Jisung with it everytime. His voice, a worthy challenger to Changbin’s. His bright, innocent personality that made Jisung want to protect him from the world. And Felix was almost as cuddly as Jisung was. And Felix came to like Changbin almost as much as Jisung did. 


Jisung didn’t really know how to feel about it: happy that they got on so well, jealous that Changbin gave Felix more cuddles than to him, glad that Felix looked more and more comfortable in the practice room with them, jealous that Felix went to sit next to Changbin more often than he came to Jisung. And in the middle of all this, Jisung’s eyes stopped on the two of them sitting on the floor, Felix’s head on Changbin’s lap, more often than maybe normal or acceptable, just admiring the sight they made. Soft and hard, black and white. They were like a puzzle, completing each other. Jisung wondered where he fit into that puzzle. Whether he’d fit at all.


Maybe Felix partly stealing his place next to Changbin was what caused Jisung to start clinging to Minho as much as he did. At least that’s what Jisung likes to think, to cover up the fact that he most probably would’ve tried to hang out with Minho, the handsome, funny, witty Minho just as much even without Felix. 


It wasn’t like Jisung only thought Minho was pretty, or a great dancer (though those were facts about him he really, really appreciated. Or hated, depends on how you look at it). Minho and Jisung fit. They matched so well right from the start that it got Jisung rethinking his opinion on big words like soul mates or love at first sight. ( Yep, nope, still cringy as hell. )


Jisung had always known he wanted to kiss Changbin. Now he knew he wanted to kiss Felix and Minho as well. If things went south like this everytime he met a pretty boy...oh dear. Jisung was fucked. 


But for now, all that was left was to not get caught. Easy.




Lacking sleep is basically the same as being drunk, they say. 


It makes the lines all blurry, gets people relax enough to say stupid shit. It makes them clingy. So late night practices really weren’t Jisung’s friend. They just made him cling to the closest person next to him, climb on their laps and lay his head on their chests. Late nights made Jisung whiny, or extra loud, sleepy or too full of energy. But most of all he started to notice the stars on Changbin’s eyes, or the cute little smirk Minho always did, or how deep Felix’s voice actually was. Late nights made him forget why couldn’t he kiss his members, why couldn’t he get them.


It was currently 2:14 AM and Jisung was laying on Changbin’s lap on the floor of their practice room, giggling uncontrollably at nothing in particular. He looked up at Chanbin, quieting down, and suddenly he really wanted to see if his eyes really sparkled or not. He pulled at Changbin’s sleeve and when Chanbin did look down at him, he made a high squeak in his throat, amazed by how good he looked; his black hair messy, brushing his dark brown eyes, which did sparkle a bit in the corners, if you looked carefully. Jisung grinned up at him as Changbin raised a questioning eyebrow. 


Jisung decided he hadn’t kissed Changbin in too long. Or actually ever. But that could be fixed. He threw his arms around Changbin’s neck, starting to drag him down. Changbin laughed at him, only slightly confused, too used to Jisung being weird. 


Minho looked at the pair from distance, silently laughing at Jisung giggling and poking at Changbin to get his attention, then getting serious and proceeding to trying to drag the other on top of him, all the while never ceasing to stare at Changbin’s eyes. Minho cocked his head, trying to read the intense look in Jisung’s eyes. 


Minho had noticed a long time ago how Jisung looked up to his 3RACHA hyungs. He had caught Jisung staring at Changbin when he practiced his raps or when he was just sitting down, doing nothing. He had noticed the way Chan’s word had a calming effect on Jisung, how often he hugged Chan and cling to his side. But this, this look Jisung had in his eyes looking straight at Changbin, it was different. It was more. 


When Jisung had succeeded to get Changbin close enough to his face, he promptly closed his eyes, sighing a little. Minho watched as Changbin glanced down at Jisung’s lips, swallowing nervously.


Changbin was close enough to feel Jisung’s breath, close enough feel his heartbeat under him, Jisung warm and pliant on his lap. Changbin’s body didn’t quite know what to do, his heart beating irregularly and too loud, slowly realising Jisung was waiting for him to kiss him.


Changbin raised his head and met Minho’s gaze. There was a second, a moment where they just stared at each other, asking wordless questions neither knew the answers to. Then Changbin snapped out of it, laughing awkwardly and prying Jisung’s arms away from him, basically throwing him onto the floor in his hurry to get away. 


“Ow!” Jisung pouted at Changbin from the floor, the other getting up quickly, mumbling about how they should continue their practice, even though they had given up on perfecting their choreo half an hour ago, their legs too tired to continue. And Chanbin’s legs did look a bit unstable, Minho noticed. A smirk spread on his lips as Changbin turned to glance at him once more, quickly turning his head away at the knowing look on Minho’s face. He didn’t need it right now. 


When Minho turned back to Jisung, he had already managed to get Felix to lay down with him, both pointing at the ceiling like they were star gazing, their free hands intertwined together. This time Minho didn’t bother hiding his laughter. 


Still Minho couldn’t get the image of earlier out of his head, sure there was something more in there, something that came out between schedules, between practices, growing in the cracks of pure friendship and brotherhood. Something more.








“Are you in love with Changbin.”


Jisung had never whipped his head a full 180 so fast before. He felt light-headed. “I--What?! Of course fucking not!” Jisung sputtered out, eyes wide with shock.


Minho only chuckled, “Oh yeah?”, raising a eyebrow at him and smirking at Jisung’s pure panic. “Just staring a hole into his side view for no reason? On a daily basis?”


Jisung turned back to where he had been staring at for the past...too long. Damn it. “Oh, yeah, no.” Jisung said smartly. Changbin and Felix had their legs tangled together, Felix giggling at something Changbin had said and Changbin biting his lip so he wouldn’t grin too big and obvious. They looked cute. Happy. Jisung sighed.


“Or is it Felix? He’s pretty cute,” Minho poked Jisung’s side and made him squirm.


“N-no! Hyung, just. Shut up:” Jisung’s hands were covered in cold sweat and his eyes searched for the fastest way out. Fuck, fuck.


“Wow, rude.” Minho got more comfortable on the floor, laying his head back on Jisung’s thigh. “Don’t worry, Jisungie. I won’t expose your secrets.”




“Should I like...practice some..aegyo or something? I mean, that’s what all the rookies do, right?” Felix laughed nervously, his cheeks a bit pink, last sun rays of the day making his skin glow.


Jisung giggled and pushed his shoulder playfully, “You don’t need practice, you’re already a natural. Born to be cute.” Jisung smiled fondly at him, amazed how Felix’s eyes shimmered in the dusk light as his cheeks got even pinker and he buried his face into his palms. 


Jisung startled out of it when Minho laughed from the other side of the sofa. Minho had a gleaming in his eyes as well, but in a different, “I know something you don’t”- kinda way. Jisung gave him a heavy, warning gaze. Shut up, hyung, it said.


“True, our Yongbokie is soo cute. I bet half of JYP wants to kiss your cute freckles,” Minho smirked and winked at Jisung. Jisung groaned internally and tried to get the sofa to swallow him whole while Felix stuttered out a “Stop, h-hyung~”. Cute . Goddammit. 


When Chan came home to find Felix and Jisung asleep on the sofa, Felix’s head on Jisung’s chest and Jisung’s arms around his sleeping frame, Jisung’s every breath moving a stray of Felix’s hair back and forth, he didn’t have the heart to wake them up, instead he just covered them up with a blanket, a fond smile on his face. 


Jisung only slightly panicked when he woke up, borderline too hot but god, so comfortable, drooling on Felix’s left collarbone. But fuck, if he didn’t want to wake up like this every day. 




Han Jisung has always been an affectionate person. 


At first, the hugs that came out of nowhere at odd times surprised the others, but they soon got used to the arms circling around them and the nose nuzzling into their neck, shy fingers tugging at their sleeves in an attempt to get attention (and maybe more hugs) or picking on their fingers until the victim got the not-so-subtle hints and intertwined their fingers with Jisung's, a wide smile spreading on Jisung's face at the warmess that spread from his fingertips all the way to his toes, relaxing his muscles on the way. 


And as they, Stray Kids now, got closer and started to trust each other with everything they got somewhere along the way, spending every waking moment together, Jisung’s body just kinda went “okay, you’re close now, let’s cuddle and hold hands and oh yeah, I’d like some kisses too, actually all the kisses!”. Jisung had a hard time keeping it quiet, catching himself from staring at Felix’s lips as he chatted with Chan, or from leaning in, a bit too close, to Minho’s face. 


And Jisung really, really had no idea how or when had it happened, but at some point he just kind of realised that it wasn’t just the three of them. That on a thursday Jisung would find himself thinking about how he wanted to push Hyunjin against the practice room’s mirror and kiss him senseless, that little brat, give him back for daring to scold him during dance practices. It didn’t help that Hyunjin walked around looking like that. And on a friday he’d be wondering whether their baby Jeongin had ever been kissed. On a saturday about how it’d feel like to be completely ingulfed in Woojin’s arms for the whole night straight, how his breath would feel like against his skin. On a sunday Jisung would be admiring the way Seungmin’s eyes crinkled at the corners and how his whole face lit up when he smiled, and on a monday he just really wanted to cling to Chan and never let go. 


Jisung could feel himself slipping. He started to sit on Chan’s or Minho’s lap more often than not, with no excuses. 3RACHA still stayed up until sunrise on most nights, writing lyrics, and Jisung blamed the lack of sleep for how he laid splayed on both of his hyungs, jabbing Changbin’s cribs with his head and whining when he would take a second too long to start combing his fingers through Jisung’s hair, the movement and Changbin’s voice lulling him towards deep sleep. They had to eventually wake Jisung up, complaining about how he was too heavy to carry anywhere (Jisung was a bit disappointed they wouldn’t carry him. It’d probably be much more comfortable than walking into your lonely bed by yourself.)


Before Jisung would basically run to his bed and fell dead asleep within seconds, but lately his steps had gotten slower and slower on the way home, not willing at all to let go of Changbin’s hand, it’s comfortable warmth (although he was already pretty warm, thanks to Chan’s oversized hoodie he had stolen from him. Chan was too soft for him to scold him for it). Jisung didn’t like it at all, everything in him against sleeping alone when he had 8 people just laying around, perfectly capable of cuddling him to sleep. 


It was just. Jisung was pretty sure asking someone to sleep with him every night from then on was on the “not okay”-side of their, his, rules. So Jisung sucked it up. He tossed and turned in his bed, cold and feeling empty, huffing annoyed when sleep wouldn't come even after endless dance practices and rap training and writing sessions. But he had no choice. He wasn’t ready to give up his last pieces of dignity quite yet. The others probably wouldn’t even agree.




“Jisung-ah? Why are you still awake?” Changbin’s half-asleep voice rasped, eyes barely open as he paddled into the living room slash kitchen area on their dorm at 3 am. 


Jisung was sitting in the corner of the sofa, notebook on his lap, the small lamp illuminating the top of his head. His head had shot up as he heard Changbin’s voice but Changbin had still seen the way Jisung’s head had been drooping with sleep. He cocked his head at Jisung’s dark form on the sofa, curled into himself.


“Binnie? I, uhh, I was just writing some lyrics, you know….when the artist gets an idea, it doesn’t wait, and all that,” Jisung laughed awkwardly. 


The truth was that he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed. Day by day Jisung had been avoiding going to sleep, by himself, in his own bed, pushing sleep farther and farther, and as stress of the upcoming debut build and build, Jisung started feeling more and more anxious just by the idea of trying to sleep completely alone. Jisung knew he was being stupid. Actually he liked being alone, writing lyrics or listening to music while walking by the river. He hated depending on anyone. He was completely able to do everything in his life alone. Everything except sleep, apparently. 


“Lyrics?” Changbin yawned, “You should go to bed, Jisungie. Sleep, important. Good. Yes,” Jisung chuckled at Changbin’s mostly-asleep state. He wanted to ruffle his night-black fluffy hair. And cuddle him. And-- 


Jisung sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll go sleep. Don’t worry, Binnie.”


Minho woke up the next morning to find Jisung asleep on the sofa, hugging a pillow to his chest. His notebook was laying on the floor, open on a page filled with lyrics full of words like warmth and loneliness and hopes and wishes and wrong.


Minho closed the notebook and set it down on the table, petting Jisung’s hair, a knit of worry between his brows. 




“Ugh, Jisungie, you’re heavy,” Hyunjin complained and squirmed a bit under Jisung’s weight. Jisung just shushed him lazily and laid his head back on Hyunjin’s chest, wrapping his arms tighter around his shoulders. He sighed contently and opened his mouth to ask for pets but fortunately caught himself right before any sound came out. Bad Jisung, he scolded himself.


It didn’t take long, though, for Hyunjin to start combing his fingers through Jisung’s hair without prompting. Jisung was half-asleep within seconds, basically purring against Hyunjin. Hyunjin chuckled, smiling fondly down at the mop of brown hair.


“Okay, breaktime is over! Let’s practice!” Chan clapped his hands together and people started to get up, only groaning quietly.


“Hyung! Save me. I think Jisungie is asleep,” Hyunjin called for Chan.


“Jisung? Sleeping during practice? That doesn’t sound like him,” Chan frowned and started to softly pet Jisung in an attempt to wake him.


“He has been going to sleep much later than us, recently,” Changbin said.


“And he hasn’t been going to his own bed either. I’ve seen him sleeping on the sofa twice in a row now,” Minho added, and as Jisung still wasn’t showing any signs of awakening, he grabbed him from the waist and started to gently pull him up.


“Mhmmhg, ‘m awake!” Jisung mumbled, turning around in Minho’s hold so he was now facing him. Jisung threw his arms around Minho’s neck, his eyes refusing to stay open, and let him pull him to his feet. 


He wasn’t ready to let go of Minho, though. “Jisungie, love. It’s practice tiimee~” Minho ran his hands up and down Jisung’s back, his frame slumped against him. 


“Mmh, okay.” Jisung mumbled against Minho’s neck, but didn’t move. Minho giggled and decided it wasn’t going to work the soft way. He attacked Jisung’s sides with his fingers and Jisung shrieked, finally coming back to his senses completely. “Okay, I said okay! Hyung, stop!”


Jisung withdrew from Minho but stopped in front of his face, looking into his eyes, then glancing at his lips. Minho swallowed thickly, his body refusing to move, as Jisung slowly started to lean closer, twisting his head just a bit to the left, his eyes falling shut again.


After just a few seconds Jisung snapped out of it, stepping away from Minho like he had burned his skin, coughing awkwardly and staring holes into the floor. 


Minho stood still, frozen, disappointment crawling over him. At the same time, somewhere under the feeling of disappointment, there was hope. Unexpected hope. Minho had thought he could read Jisung clear as day, seeing how Jisung felt for Changbin or maybe Felix, but this. He had been blind enough not to see it coming. Blind enough not to notice how he wanted it to happen. Or maybe he had been reading him wrong all along, maybe Jisung really just was that affectionate. Maybe that didn’t mean anything. Minho shook his head, swallowing down his feelings of confusion, hope, disappointment, want. Now wasn’t the time or place for that. 


“Right, so, practice. Let’s go?” Jisung said, a bit too loudly to cover up his slipping. Fucking fuck, Jisung. You fucked up. 


Chan gave him a look but decided to shrug it off for now. “Right, yes. Practice.”



Chapter Text

Jisung’s eyelids felt heavier than probably ever before, the dorm’s floorboards cold under his bare feet, the overwhelming quietness rising anxiety somewhere deep in his bones. He walked as carefully as he could, afraid he’d make a noise and the members would find him awake in the middle of the night. Again.


This time he had tried to sleep. He really had. He had brushed his teeth early, put on the most comfortable shirt he had (it was Chan’s and still smelled like him. It didn’t help, only making him feel more lonely) and went to his own bed. That was five hours ago. 


The walls of the quiet dorm felt daunting to him, the cozy sofa only reminding him of the sound of their warm, familiar laughter, their hands resting on his knee or calmly petting his hair. Jisung looked at the clock and sighed, his eyes closing on their own accord. Four AM. They had a late morning the next day so he’d still have time to sleep, if he went now. He was so tired. He was tired of avoiding sleep. He was tired of not being able to climb into Minho’s or Chan’s bed and cuddle close to them, their steady breaths and maybe even quiet humming lulling him to sleep within minutes. He knew he could do that. He could sleep, if only. He could go to them, if only. 


Jisung felt his eyes get wet, tears of frustration wallowing inside him. He stared at the ceiling for a while, angry at himself, at his stupid tears, and decided to fuck it. He trudged towards a room he knew wouldn’t turn him away, wouldn’t laugh at him. Where he knew warm arms would wait for him, whenever. His steps were stiff, slow, as his his body was waiting for him to turn around at any moment.


He ended up standing in front of Chan’s bed, twisting his ring on his finger nervously (the one he never really took off, as being without it made him feel uneasy, too bare, vulnerable). He hadn’t really thought farther than this; he couldn’t just wake Chan up in the middle of the night just because he couldn’t sleep alone. But he really, really didn’t want to turn back around either. 


When Jisung had been standing still for too many, too dragging, slow minutes, he heard Chan’s breathing rhythm switch slightly. 


“‘Sung?” Chan’s rough voice asked, so full of sleep it was barely there, but it was, and Jisung couldn’t have been happier.


“Hyung,” Jisung whispered, his voice more air than anything else, “couldn’t sleep,” he forced himself to whisper, his eyes on the floor.


Chan didn’t say anything anymore, just lifted the corner of his blanket, waiting. Jisung was pretty sure he wasn’t very awake at all. 


After a few more seconds of anxious fiddling Jisung sighed and let himself go, let himself get what he wanted, needed so badly. He took the blanket Chan was holding, slipping himself under it, the heat from Chan’s body instantly hitting him, comforting his beating heart. He felt his muscles relax as he positioned himself so his back was to Chan’s chest.


“Tha’s my shirt,” Jisung heard Chan mumble, hugging his arms around Jisung’s frame and pulling him closer against his chest. Jisung blushed at the reminder but couldn’t deny how comfortable he felt in Chan’s arms. He felt Chan’s breath even out once again and Jisung sighed contently, shifting slightly even closer against Chan’s chest.


Jisung could feel Chan’s calm heartbeat, his breath hitting his shoulder lightly, his muscles on his arms relaxing and weighing him down, down towards the bed, the floor under it like a warm ocean Jisung didn’t mind drowning in. Jisung felt safe. Utterly, completely safe. 


It was less than five minutes and Jisung was deep asleep.




Jisung didn’t meant to do it. He didn’t mean to start avoiding Chan after waking up in his arms, the other still dead asleep, Jisung’s hand holding Chan’s fingers loosely in his grip. But he couldn’t help feeling too embarrassed to look at him when Chan finally did wake up and paddled into the kitchen. Jisung couldn’t help getting restless as he watched Chan’s back as he poured himself coffee, being reminded of how easily he melted against his chest the night before, how easily he gave up on pretending not to love sleeping in his bed. 


So when Chan plopped down next to him, patting his head lightly like he always did as a ‘ good morning, did you sleep well? ’, Jisung all but flinched from the soft touch and almost spilled the rest of his orange juice ( what, i’m still a child!) in his hurry to get up. 


So that’s how Jisung came to miss Chan’s disappointed, hurt expression staring at his retreating back, Changbin raising an eyebrow at him and Chan shaking his head quietly as an answer. 




He had really, truly fucked up this time, Jisung soon came to realise. 


Not only was he sure that trying to sleep alone would only feel that much worse now, even more impossible, but he didn’t even have to wait for the night for the problems to arise. Not only could he not look into Chan’s eyes without blushing furiously and wanting to hit his head against the nearest wall, but everything, every innocent touch was a bit too much for him. Minho reaching out to play with his ripped jeans got Jisung to gulp, his body instantly starting to lean closer, closer, closer to Minho, wanting to feel the warmth of his body on his skin, wanting to feel his arms around him, his hand in his hair or playing with the soft hair on his nape. Jisung had to constantly stop his body from doing anything stupid, had to internally yell at himself to focus. 


That’s why Jisung did the only thing he could at this point, the only thing that would protect himself from getting hurt, the thing that kinda, maybe, trained his body to the fact that no,  Jisung, you can not sleep in someone’s bed every night . He avoided all of them, slipped his hand into his pocket when he noticed someone reaching for it, pretended to be busy during any freetime they got, kept himself distracted, sat by the window on their minibuss, and definitely, definitely not on someone’s lap like he had a habit of doing these days. He didn’t look at Changbin’s fingers messaging Felix’s scalp, didn’t lay down on the floor for the fear of getting attacked by Minho or Hyunjin and their hugs. And he really, really didn’t think about the night to come. Or like, did he’s best not to, but give him a break, he was around his members around the clock after all, which meant endless possible moments to slip.


Jisung hadn’t really even expected to get off the hook so easily, but he was still surprised when Minho sat on his bed that night, the look in his eyes telling Jisung he wasn’t going anywhere before explaining himself. 


Jisung sighed, reluctantly sitting next to Minho after a minute of Minho trying to wordlessly get him to sit down with his intense gaze. 


"You didn't sit on my lap in the car today. Or chan's. Or Woojin’s. Or-” Jisung groaned at him, hoping he’d just get on with it and stop reminding him about how clingy he usually was.


“Or anyone else’s,” Minho continued, frowning, “and you didn't even hold our hands today, not even once. All you did was mope around the whole day. Is everything okay, Jisungie? You seem a little off," Minho’s frown deepened as he reached out to grab Jisung’s hand and Jisung covered away from him, for the fourth time that day.

"Huh? Yeah, everything's fine, just you know. Bit busy," Jisung tried to shrug it off. There was no way he could even try to explain to Minho why he had been avoiding them. What was he supposed to say? Oh yeah, I just can’t sleep by myself haha, oh and can I kiss you? Yeah, nope.


Shit, he was fucked. Even now, in the almost-dark, Minho's hair looked too soft and fluffy not to put your fingers through it, his eyes too deep not to get lost in, his face too pretty not to fall for, body too warm not to unconsciously lean towards. Shit, shit, shit, focus, Jisung!

Minho huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jisungie, love, you're clearly acting. And you’re not even good at it." Jisung pretended his heart didn't jump in his chest at the pet name, opening his mouth to complain.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Minho continued, now softer, impossibly gentle. He reached out to comb his fingers slowly through Jisung's hair and Jisung couldn't, just couldn't tell him to stop, instead letting his eyes close, sighing contently. Minho smirked. Their very own personal cat, could never turn down pets. "Talk to me," Minho whispered, like a small wish you say only in your head upon seeing a shooting star.

Jisung shook his head slightly, sighing. “Sorry, hyung. I won’t try to runaway from you all anymore,” he promised, and meant it, even if it’d make things harder for himself. He didn’t want to upset or worry his hyungs. He also knew he couldn’t have kept this up much longer, anyway.


It wasn’t the answer Minho had wanted, but he took it, for now. Jisung would explain, when he’d feel like it.


“Uh, hyung?” Jisung asked quietly after a while, Minho’s hand still in his hair, comforting him and making him brave. “Can you, like, maybe, uhh…” Jisung let out a breath and tried to collect himself, “Can I sleep with you tonight?” Jisung had his eyes down, cheeks burning.


Minho only laughed at him, cooing over how cute he was, “Of course, Jisungie. C’mon, let’s go, hyung’s bed is bigger and more comfy than this tiny one,” he said, gesturing down at Jisung’s bed, and taking Jisung’s hand to pull him up. Jisung was forced to meet his eyes and couldn’t help but beam at him when he found nothing but warmth in Minho’s eyes.