Chapter Text
He looks at the contact in his phone. It’s not like he actually needs it anymore. He knows the number by heart. Besides, he and Minho don’t actually speak anymore.
Sometimes it feels like Minho never actually liked him at all, that he just used him to pass the time. Hell, he’d said it himself. “I don’t like Han, he just likes me.” Sure, they’d both laughed about it afterwards, an obvious joke.
But once you start repeating things in your head, they become stronger, until they completely overtake you. It’s like it’s the only things he can remember now, all the times Minho pushed him away when Jisung wanted a secret kiss, all the rejections, all the annoyed sighs. It’s like he’s completely forgotten about all the times Minho initiated it, or the way he’d look at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. Or when he confessed that he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with him.
So he deletes the contact.
He doesn’t need it anymore.
He doesn’t need him.
Jisung wakes up pressed between Hyunjin and Changbin, almost suffocating. But it’s nice, and he could lie here forever, if it weren’t for his phone buzzing in the pocket of his sweats.
He’d been so out of it last night that he hadn’t even bothered taking it out as he fell asleep in Hyunjin’s arms. God, his eyes still feel swollen. He blinks hard as he reaches inside his pocket. He finds his pills first, and takes one, because priorities.
With some effort he manages to break free from Hyunjin’s grip and rolls onto his back, unlocking his phone.
<unknown> 6.08am
- we need to talk
<unknown> 6.19am
- please
<unknown> 6.30am
- meet me on the roof. i left the escape door open.
Jisung checks the time and finds the messages are only from a few minutes ago. He doesn’t need to think hard to realize who they’re from. Hyunjin snores softly next to him and Jisung watches him sleep for a moment, weighing his options. He wonders if he should wake up his friend and ask him what he should do, but he’s done bothering people for now.
So he climbs out of bed and goes to the top floor.
There’s a chilly draft as soon as he leaves the elevator, and he belatedly realizes he should’ve worn a jacket. But there’s no going back now. He finds a brick holding the escape door open and climbs through the opening, his small body fitting through the gap in a way that’s almost laughable if it weren’t so sad.
The gravel under his feet announces his arrival, so Minho turns his head from where he’s sitting, close to the edge and his knees pulled up to his chest. He doesn’t look like he got much sleep.
Jisung approaches without words. When he’s next to him he peeks over the edge. It’s dizzying. The sun isn’t up yet so he can’t see everything, but they’re up so high. Why isn’t Minho terrified? What the fuck is happening?
“I got over my fear of heights,” Minho explains, as if he can read his mind.
A lot can change over six years, Jisung figures as he sits down next to him. The gravel hurts his butt, but he ignores it, staring at the orange glow of the sun rising over the forest instead.
“That’s–that’s good. It was your biggest fear, wasn’t it?” Jisung tries to sound friendly.
“It wasn’t,” Minho says, voice strained. This makes Jisung’s head turn. Minho’s eyes are dark and heavy, locked on him. “My biggest fear has always been you.”
Jisung’s mouth falls open, speechless. The suggestion of that alone is ridiculous, and the more he thinks of it the less it makes sense. Jisung? Scary? He hoped he would make Minho feel comfortable, happy, safe even. Not terrified.
“You’re confused,” Minho observes.
“Yeah, no shit,” Jisung huffs, picking at one of his nails to keep his hands busy.
“I’ve never wanted anyone more than I wanted you, Jisung,” Minho struggles saying the words, Jisung can see that, but he continues anyway, “do you know how terrifying that is?”
Jisung hums, because he knows fear. He knows it.
“I pretend to not get attached to things, so I can make it seem like it hurts less when I lose them,” Minho continues.
“I know,” Jisung says, because he does. It’s one of the few things Minho has ever trusted him with.
“Jisung–it was so hard to pretend with you.”
Jisung hums again, and blinks hard, tears escaping his eyes. But he doesn’t interrupt. Not yet.
“It hurt less to just slowly drift apart,” Minho says as he finally breaks eye contact, looking at the sun creeping higher on the horizon, “I wouldn’t have to be scared of breaking your heart.”
“You flatter yourself too much,” Jisung jokes, wiping a stray tear off his cheek.
Minho turns to him again. His smile is sad. “Come on, isn’t this the face of a heartbreaker?” Then, “I never forgot about you though. I thought about you every day.”
Jisung just sighs, and then lets his lungs fill themselves with the crisp, morning air. He thinks about it, or at least he tries to. There’s just too many things going on in his head, and in his heart. “We’re both fucking cowards,” is what he settles on.
“You got that right,” Minho agrees.
The sun finally fully rises over the trees, shrouding them in a golden glow. It’s warm and blinding, pulling the ache from Jisung’s bones and from his heart. He thinks he could sit here forever, just like this, enjoying this moment in idleness.
Minho’s hand on his cheek is almost as warm as the sun, his lips on his even more so.
Jisung is the one to pull away first now, the touch of Minho burning on his lips. He wishes he wasn’t so numb from the pills, he wishes he could feel it more.
Minho looks at his lips, and then back to his eyes. He looks scared, so scared and vulnerable. Jisung remembers that he loved him, and that he has never stopped loving this man. So he just smiles, at a loss for words, no idea of how to bring this across.
His friend seems to understand, because suddenly it’s like they go back ten years in time, to when things were much simpler, and yet somehow much more complicated. Minho closes his eyes and says,
“Your turn.”
“Jisung!” Hyunjin catches him in the hallway after he gets dressed for the wedding ceremony, pulling Jisung into the hotel room by his tie.
Within a second a phone is being held up to his face, and Seungmin waves at him through the screen, smiling brightly. Jisung waves back, a little speechless. He did not expect a FaceTime ambush.
“How are you?” Seungmin asks, and his voice lags a bit with the way his mouth moves. His friend hasn’t changed much either. The only new thing about him is a tuft of grey hair on the side of his part, that he probably never decided to dye again. Their stylists cursing Seungmin’s genetics to grey early probably made him love that little detail about himself. His friend tended to be stubborn like that.
“I’m–” Jisung pauses, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. Then, he decides, “I’m alright, I think.”
“You look happy!” Seungmin’s words shock him.
Does he? Hyunjin giggles at the confusion on his face and nods at him, confirming what Seungmin said. Jisung doesn’t believe it, because it isn’t true. He’s not happy. But he’s… he feels lighter than he did the day before. He feels like there might be hope for him. And the fact that someone thinks he looks happy, warms him beyond belief. He loves it. He wants it to be true so bad. He finally thinks he might deserve it.
Apparently Seungmin wasn’t just calling them to check in, because Hyunjin actually brings him to the ceremony hall, holding the phone up so their friend can be there as a guest as well. Felix excitedly chats with him, updating him about his life with the biggest smile, until some aunties hush him for being too loud.
Minho is almost late, uncharacteristically so, but then again, he’s had quite a morning. Jisung gets a funny feeling in his chest when Minho tells Changbin to move seats so he can sit next to Jisung.
They don’t say anything to each other, but Jisung gives him one look and realizes they don’t have to.
Hyunjin cries during the ceremony, because of course he does. Which in turn makes Felix cry too. Jisung huffs a quiet laugh when he watches Chan give him an awkward, supportive pat on the shoulder. He can’t see if Jeongin is crying, since he’s wearing sunglasses. Weirdo, Jisung thinks fondly.
Jisung doesn’t cry, has shed all his tears already, but he’s still moved. Their manager looks happy, and his wife even more so as they renew their vows. Jisung wonders what it must feel like to be with someone for ten years. How it must be to have that other piece of your puzzle, to be complete.
Almost on instinct he lays his head on Minho’s shoulder, instantly quieting his thoughts as he watches husband and wife kiss each other.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. There’s food, so much food. And small talk, way too much small talk. Jisung thinks he can’t stand to hear another old person tell him about their own marriage before drowning himself with champagne until he knocks out.
Minho keeps his distance a bit, which is nice. He has always been good at that, gauging Jisung’s social battery and staying away if needed. Jisung knows they still have lots to talk about, lots to work out if they want to–God, he doesn’t even know what he wants at this point, what he could ask of Minho. But for now it’s good like this. They’ve been patient for six years, so they can take it easy for a bit longer.
Minho and Chan leave first, at the end of the afternoon, since they both have work early in the morning. Chan gives everyone a tight hug, ears flushed from embarrassment as he promises to reach out to them soon. Jisung doesn’t know if he’s telling the truth, but Jisung decided that even if he’s not, he’ll try to make contact first this time.
He’s nervous about saying goodbye to Minho, but it turns out he doesn’t have to be. Minho winks at him from where he’s standing by the open door of the driver’s seat of his car. It’s cringy and kind of awkward, but it makes Jisung laugh as he winks back at him. The gesture is light, easing all the heaviness from his heart. Jisung loves that about Minho.
Saying goodbye would’ve felt final, but this–this gives him hope, like an open ending to a story.
Jeongin lets his bodyguard get his car, since he doesn’t trust the valet with it. When an obnoxiously orange Lamborghini rolls around the corner, Jisung understands why. Changbin whistles at it, calling it sexy, and Hyunjin dramatically rolls his eyes.
They all agree to meet again soon, and Jeongin promises them tickets to his next concert. He shares a look with Jisung, and there’s understanding in it. And then with the roar of an engine, he’s gone.
Felix is already loading his carry-on into the trunk of Changbin’s car when he stops him. “Actually, Lix, would you mind if Hyunjin drove you to the airport?” Changbin asks.
Jisung is halfway through climbing onto the passenger's seat already, and looks back confused as Felix closes the trunk, making the car shake. They had decided Changbin would bring Felix to the airport and then drop Jisung off home, so why the sudden change? He doesn’t get to ask about it though, because Felix leans into the car to give Jisung a hug goodbye, and then gets into Hyunjin’s car.
They drive off and Jisung’s stomach is unsettled.
Changbin gets behind the wheel next to him, face tense. He doesn’t dare to ask him what’s wrong, because his friend is never like this. When he’s angry, he usually just tells him what’s going on, not the type to bottle things up. Or at least Jisung thinks that he isn’t.
They drive in silence and it’s awful. Changbin’s hands are tight around the steering wheel and it stresses Jisung out. Nerves just roll around in his stomach as his hands begin to shake. And then, there’s that annoying feeling again, pulling all his attention to the pain in his body, tricking his mind into thinking it’s getting worse by the second. So he does the only thing he can, and takes a pill.
Changbin takes a shaky breath and changes lanes. And then again. And again until he’s pulling over into the emergency lane, stopping the car completely.
Jisung turns in his seat and watches him, scared. He’s never seen him like this. Changbin still has his hands on the wheel, but his eyes are closed as he tries to calm his breaths. “Are you gonna kill me, Bin?” Jisung jokes, to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.
“I can’t do this much longer, Jisung.”
He doesn’t say what ‘this’ might be, but he doesn’t have to. Jisung knows.
Panic settles in his chest. He needs Changbin. More than that, he needs Changbin’s family, who own a hospital, who have the power to keep handing him his meds. He knows it’s illegal, that it’s technically fraud with the way they fake the labels and misplace someone else's drugs. He knows that Changbin practically has to beg his parents to keep on providing his pathetic friend.
He never wanted to even imagine how guilty Changbin must feel to take part in his best friend’s self destruction. But now, Changbin turns to him, eyes red from holding back tears, and he can see it. Can see all the pain he’s causing everyone around him. How he’s dragging everyone down.
“My father told me there’s a new surgeon,” Changbin’s voice cracks, “this is the last option I’m giving you, Ji. After this, I’m–” Changbin’s chest shakes with a quiet sob, “I’m out.”
Jisung nods, feeling his bottom lip shake. But he holds it in. He doesn’t deserve to cry right now.
Changbin starts the car again and wordlessly pulls back into traffic, leaving it at that.
Jisung lets his head drop against the window as his pill slowly sets in, calming his nerves. He watches the light poles cast their glow against the night sky, the lights blending into a string of colors with the speed they drive past them.
He doesn’t think he can do this much longer either.
He doesn’t want to hurt everyone around him anymore. He’s sick of living in fear, of being idle, stuck in time like glue. He wants people to tell him he looks happy, and when they do, he wants it to be true.
It terrifies him. The thought of that being a possibility. Of allowing himself hope, allowing himself progress. Fuck, the most terrifying part of it is a future where he doesn’t have any pain anymore. No pain means no pills. He can’t get away with calling this a habit anymore. His fucked up moment with Minho last night proved as much. It’s an addiction.
The realization leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He feels gross, absolutely disgusting. He wants to be clean, in more ways than one.
But more than that, he just doesn’t want to be terrified anymore. Of anything. Ever.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, seeing a message from an unknown number. His chest warms at the content of the text. He adds the number to his contacts again, a little heart behind the name. Not that he has to, he knows the number by heart, but because he wants to.
He pockets his phone without replying. Soon, he promises. Not now, but soon.
“Changbin,” he asks, voice small and unsure, “you can put me in touch with that surgeon, right?”
His friend doesn’t say anything, but the smile that breaks out on his face tells him enough. He reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. Not softly this time, not one bit careful. No, his grip is so hard that it hurts, even through the morphine.
Jisung thinks he’s finally ready to feel again.