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The arcade had been loud the second they walked in, all neon and noise and the kind of chaos that made it easy for a group of college boys to disappear into. Music from a rhythm game bled into the clacking of plastic tokens, into the shrieks from the claw machines, into the constant jingle of winning sound effects. It smelled like popcorn and sugar and that faint metallic tang of coins and old machines.
Minho thought it smelled like teenage nostalgia, which was funny, because they were all definitely too old to be that invested in winning a plushie Rilakkuma from a rigged crane game.
"Okay," Chan announced, clapping his hands once like they were about to start a practice session instead of burning through twenty dollars of tokens. "We're splitting teams for air hockey. Me and Jeongin against-"
"Unfair," Jeongin cut in, already grinning, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. "You just want me because I never get tired."
"You never get tired of losing, maybe," Seungmin said blandly, arms crossed over his chest, his expression already hovering somewhere between amused and done.
Felix was bouncing on his heels next to Hyunjin, eyes shining under the blinking arcade lights. "Can we do DDR first? Please? Hyun, please, I want to beat my score from last time."
Hyunjin flicked the hem of his cap up with two fingers, looking Felix up and down like he was sizing up a challenger. "You mean you want to lose. Publicly."
"We literally tied last time," Felix protested.
"Which is basically a loss, for me," Hyunjin said. "My standards are higher."
Changbin, clutching a plastic cup full of tokens like it was an Olympic medal, rolled his shoulders. "All of you are cowards. Real men play the boxing game and break the punching bag."
"You almost broke your wrist last time," Seungmin reminded him.
"I did no such thing."
"You asked if we thought it was fractured," Seungmin said, not missing a beat. "And then asked if hospitals gave arcade punch champions a discount."
The group dissolved into laughter. It rolled over Minho like background sound, warm and easy.
Next to him, Jisung laughed too, shoulders shaking under his oversized denim jacket. The light from the racing game marquee painted his hair in streaks of pink and blue, catching on the little silver hoop in his ear. His grin pushed his cheeks up, eyes crinkled, and Minho watched him a second too long.
He always did.
"Which one are you gonna destroy first?" Jisung nudged his elbow into Minho's side, tokens jingling in the cup he held. "Boxing game, right? Gotta prove your manliness to the nation."
"To the nation?" Minho echoed, arching a brow.
"Yes. The nation. The world. The galaxy," Jisung said seriously. "They need to know about your top-tier punching form."
Minho tilted his head, lips tugging into a smirk. "You just want me to hurt myself so you can laugh about it for the next six months."
"Eight," Jisung corrected, eyes bright. "I'd laugh about it forever."
"Romantic," Minho said dryly. His chest felt stupidly warm.
They drifted with the tide of their friends. Chan successfully herded everyone to the token machine, delegating who held which cups like they were about to enter a battlefield instead of a glowing, sticky-floored arcade.
Minho let himself be tugged along, staying close enough that Jisung's shoulder occasionally brushed his arm. Each little touch was nothing in the eyes of anyone watching-just two friends in a crowd-but Minho felt every one of them like a tiny static shock.
They weren't exactly a secret, he supposed. They hadn't sat the group down and announced anything, hadn't declared titles, but they also hadn't... denied anything. They just hadn't confirmed it. It was one thing to kiss Jisung in the back stairwell of the dorm, or in Minho's car when they were parked outside the convenience store at midnight. It was another to say the words out loud in front of everyone and watch their faces change.
And anyway, it'd only been a few months. A few months of late-night ramen in Minho's kitchen, the TV playing something neither of them watched, Jisung's socked feet tucked under Minho's thigh on the couch. A few months of shared headphones and shared hoodies and hands on each other's waists when no one was looking.
His thumb brushed against Jisung's as they both reached for the same token.
"Cute," Jisung said softly, just for him, eyes flicking up.
"Shut up," Minho muttered, also just for him. His mouth twitched.
They started with the racing games. Hyunjin and Felix claimed one machine each, dramatic in the way they chose their cars, as if choosing a neon green sports car over a red one had any bearing on their skill. Jeongin and Chan took the machines next to them, bickering over who got the motorcycle instead of the car. Changbin shouted commentary over everyone's shoulder, and Seungmin recorded the chaos on his phone.
Minho and Jisung shared a machine.
"Two player," Jisung said, already sliding in the tokens, tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth in concentration as he punched the buttons. "Come on, we'll co-op this."
"Since when do you co-op in racing games?" Minho asked, dropping into the plastic seat beside him.
"Since now," Jisung said. "We'll share the glory."
Or the humiliation, Minho thought, but he didn't say it. Not when Jisung leaned in close enough that Minho could smell the faint sweetness of the bubble tea they'd stopped for on the way there. Not when Jisung's knee bumped against his, and neither of them moved away.
The game started. The countdown beeped, and then they were off, plastic steering wheels jerking in their hands as the screen flashed neon cityscapes at them. Jisung narrated every turn like a sports commentator.
"Okay, okay, sharp left, sharp left-Minho, don't crash into me, what was that? Are you trying to kill me? This is a co-op, you traitor-"
"It's every man for himself," Minho said, laughing under his breath, eyes flicking sideways to catch the way Jisung's hair fell into his face as he leaned forward.
Somehow, Minho won. He blamed years of reaction training from dodging flying objects in the dorm.
"You cheated," Jisung declared, slumping back dramatically, arms flopping to his sides.
"There's literally no way to cheat in that game," Minho said. He wanted to reach over and fix Jisung's rumpled jacket, smooth down the collar that had flipped up. "You just suck."
"Incredible," Jisung said faintly. "The betrayal. The disrespect."
Minho's hand twitched. He curled his fingers around the steering wheel instead.
They bounced from game to game after that. The punching bag, where Changbin nearly dislocated his shoulder trying to beat his own score while everyone chanted "Bin! Bin! Bin!" at ear-splitting volume. The basketball hoops, where Chan went weirdly quiet and focused and then sank shot after shot until Jeongin accused him of having a second secret life as a professional player.
"Is this why you do late-night practices?" Jeongin demanded, eyes narrowed, holding a basketball like he might throw it at Chan's head.
"Yes, Jeongin," Chan said dryly. "I'm secretly trying out for the NBA."
Felix and Hyunjin took over the DDR machine, feet flying over the plastic arrows while a crowd of middle schoolers watched in awe. Hyunjin's ponytail whipped behind him when he spun, Felix's laughter audible even over the pounding music.
At one point, Minho looked up from trying and failing to beat Seungmin at a light reaction game and saw Jisung standing off to the side, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, just watching everyone. There was a small smile on his face, soft around the edges, eyes crinkled.
Minho's chest squeezed.
He abandoned the game, ignoring Seungmin's victorious noise, and crossed the few steps to Jisung's side.
"What," he said, because that was safer than any of the other things his brain had queued up.
"Nothing," Jisung said. His voice was warm. He bumped their shoulders together. "Just... this is fun."
It was. The kind of fun that felt like being sixteen again and escaping curfew, like the world had shrunk down to the glow of game screens and the echo of laughter.
"Yeah," Minho said. "It is."
They played until their wrists ached and their throats were raw from yelling. Their pockets got lighter, cups emptying until only a few stray tokens clinked at the bottom. Chan, ever the responsible one, checked his phone and winced.
"Okay," he said, loud enough to cut through the noise. "We should head out in, like, twenty? Last bus past the main road is at midnight, and I am not paying for all your taxis."
"Twenty minutes?" Changbin said, outraged. "That's not nearly enough time for me to reclaim my title."
"You never had a title," Seungmin said.
"My title as the strongest, most ripped-"
"Changbin," Chan said warningly.
"-most humble member of this friend group," Changbin finished, grinning.
Felix tugged on Hyunjin's sleeve. "Let's do one more DDR run."
"We already did three," Hyunjin said, but he let himself be dragged, rolling his eyes fondly.
Jeongin started counting their prize tickets, frowning in deep concentration. "If we combine everything, we can totally get that giant shark plushie."
"Who voted you treasurer?" Minho asked.
"I did," Jeongin said. "Democracy."
As everyone drifted toward the prize counter, Minho felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked down.
Jisung's fingers were hooked in the fabric of his hoodie, knuckles pale where he was holding on. He looked up at Minho with his head tilted, eyes big.
"Hey," Jisung said. "Can we-" He jerked his chin toward the back corner of the arcade, where the lights were dimmer and fewer kids ran underfoot. "Wanna check that out before we go?"
Minho followed his gaze. Tucked behind a row of older machines-a pinball game that seemed perpetually broken, a dusty basketball hoop-was a small photo booth. Its sign flickered occasionally, a little screen on the outside cycling through example strips of photos: friends cramming into the frame, couples with their faces pressed close together. The plastic curtain hung half-open, a little crooked.
It looked almost forgotten, pushed away from the bright center of the arcade. Which meant it was more private.
Something fluttered in Minho's stomach.
"Yeah," he said, trying to sound casual. "Sure."
Jisung's hand slid down from his sleeve to his wrist, fingers circling it lightly for a second, like a thank you. Then he let go, stepping ahead through the crowd. Minho followed, weaving through kids and machines until the noise dulled slightly and the light dimmed.
Up close, the booth looked even more old-school. There was a little stool inside, a screen with a cracked corner, and a slot at the bottom where the photo strips spat out. The instructions were printed in bright pink font above the screen:
1. Insert tokens.
2. Choose your layout.
3. Pose for the camera!
4. Collect your photos outside!
"You like these?" Minho asked, watching Jisung peer inside, brushing the curtain aside with the back of his hand.
"Are you kidding?" Jisung said, voice half echoing in the tiny space. "I love these. They're so cheesy." He hopped onto the stool and spun once, legs bumping the side. "Come on, Min, live a little."
"I literally live with you most days," Minho said, and then immediately cursed himself internally. That sounded way too much like an admission.
Jisung's mouth twitched. "And yet, we have no fridge pictures to prove it."
Minho sighed, but it was pointless resistance. He stepped into the booth, letting the curtain fall closed behind him with a soft shhhk. The air inside was warmer, the world outside muted. It smelled faintly like plastic and that weird artificial perfume that clung to things that had been wiped down with cheap cleaner.
The stool was not really designed for two fully grown boys, but they did their best. Jisung scooted over until he was practically in Minho's lap, legs pressed close. Their thighs were solid lines of heat against each other.
"Too close?" Jisung asked, tilting his head, his hair brushing Minho's cheek.
Minho swallowed. "It's fine."
"Mm." Jisung smiled, small and knowing, before turning his attention to the screen. "Okay, how many shots do we get?"
Minho squinted at the text. "Looks like... four per strip, and you can do up to two rounds if you hit 'yes' at the end."
"Perfect," Jisung said, already slotting in a few tokens. The machine clinked, lights flashing.
The screen brightened, showing them a live preview. The sight of them crammed into the frame-Jisung basically on Minho's knees, Minho half hunched to fit-was somehow a little disarming. Minho saw his own face, eyebrows faintly raised, hair a little messy from static and sweat. Jisung was in front of him, cheeks pink from the heat, his grin wide and unguarded.
He liked them, Minho thought suddenly. He liked them like this.
"Okay, we have ten seconds before it starts," Jisung said, tapping the countdown. "Theme for round one: chaos."
"Isn't that your default setting?" Minho asked.
"Rude, but true," Jisung said cheerfully. "Come on, first pose."
The screen beeped, a little countdown from three starting to blink.
"Peace signs," Jisung ordered, throwing his hands up, fingers in a V on either side of his face, tongue poked out.
Minho mimicked him, half amused despite himself. He leaned in, shoulder pressed to Jisung's back, and looked straight at the tiny camera.
Three... two... one-
The flash went off. The booth filled with a burst of white light, leaving little afterimages dancing in front of his eyes.
"Okay, okay, second one," Jisung said, squinting at the screen as the next countdown started. "You do something cool."
"Cool?" Minho repeated, deadpan.
"Yeah," Jisung said. "Brooding. Mysterious. Give the camera your best 'I secretly have feelings but refuse to admit them' face."
Minho felt his mouth twitch. "That's oddly specific."
"Wonder why," Jisung hummed, then immediately crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out when the flash went off again.
Minho snorted so hard his "brooding" face was probably just him trying not to laugh.
The third photo, Jisung grabbed the tiny prop hat sitting on the side shelf-why was there a tiny prop hat?-and jammed it onto Minho's head at the last second. Minho batted at him, and the flash caught a blur of movement, Minho half-smiling, Jisung beaming as he clung to his wrist.
In the fourth, they both leaned back, cheeks squished together as they tried to both fit in the center of the frame, Minho's arm wrapped around Jisung's waist to keep him from falling off the stool.
"Okay but that last one is gonna be so cute," Jisung said, breath a little warm against Minho's jaw. "We look like we actually like each other."
Minho raised a brow. "We don't?"
"I plead the fifth," Jisung said.
The screen blinked, displaying tiny previews of the four shots they'd just taken. They scrolled through them quickly, laughing at their own faces. Jisung leaned even more into Minho's side, his shoulder solid, his laughter making his entire body shake.
The little question popped up: "DO YOU WANT ANOTHER ROUND? YES/NO"
"Obviously yes," Jisung said, stabbing the "YES" button with his finger.
Outside, completely ignored by both of them, a small screen mounted on the exterior of the booth lit up. It was the "preview" display, meant to entice people walking by to use the booth by showing the last strip's photos in real time.
The first strip started to print inside with a mechanical whir. Outside, the first photo appeared: Minho and Jisung doing peace signs. A second later, the second photo slid into place, replacing it, then the third.
At the prize counter, Jeongin, having successfully collected all their tickets into one ridiculous crumpled bundle, glanced up absently-and did a double take.
"Uh," he said, squinting. "Guys?"
Felix, elbows on the counter while he haggled over whether they could get two smaller plushies instead of one giant one, followed his gaze. His face lit up instantly.
"Oh my god," Felix squeaked, voice going up an octave. "Look."
On the tiny outside screen, the fourth photo popped up: Minho with his arm around Jisung, their cheeks pressed together, both mid-laugh. The quality wasn't incredible, all blown-out by the flash, but the way they were pressed together looked inherently... soft.
Hyunjin abandoned his dramatic sulk over not having enough tickets for the lava lamp and walked over. Chan, halfway through counting bus fare in his head, shifted to see what everyone was staring at.
"Are those...?" Chan started, leaning forward.
"It's them," Jeongin said, sounding both delighted and betrayed. "They're in the photo booth."
Changbin, who had been testing his grip strength on one of those springy hand exercisers, looked over too. "Wait," he said slowly. "Is that-"
Inside the booth, oblivious to the gathering audience, Jisung bounced a little in place.
"Okay, second round, we need a theme," he said. "We did chaos. Now we do... hmm. Cute."
Minho snorted. "Is that not also your default setting?"
Jisung slapped his thigh lightly. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Okay, first one: heart pose."
He lifted their hands, forcing Minho to curve his fingers into a clumsy heart shape. They held it up between their faces, foreheads almost touching, the countdown beeping in their ears.
The flash went off, catching them mid-smile.
Outside, the tiny preview screen replaced the last photo with this one: two boys pressed close, hands forming a heart, Jisung's nose crinkled, Minho looking down at him with a softness that was very, very difficult to misinterpret.
Felix's hands flew to his mouth. "Oh my god," he whispered behind his fingers. "They're so... Look at them."
"I'm looking," Hyunjin said, which sounded more like a threat than anything. His eyes were wide, amusement sparking. "Are they-did we miss something? Have they been dating without telling us?"
"Would they do that?" Changbin asked, then answered his own question. "Yes, they absolutely would do that."
Chan's mouth opened, then closed. "Okay, okay, let's not jump to conclusions," he said, but his voice was already wavering with a smile that he was obviously trying to hold back. "Maybe they're just... being affectionate."
Jeongin turned slowly, tickets hanging forgotten from his hands. "Chan-hyung," he said, voice flat. "If you and anyone else ever did that and called it 'just affectionate,' I would call the cops."
Inside the booth, the countdown started again for the next photo.
"Second pose," Jisung said. "I'm gonna do the 'flower' pose. You do whatever you want."
He tucked his hands under his chin, elbows out, eyes big and ridiculously cute, lips pushed into a soft pout. He tilted his head slightly, the overhead booth light catching the brown in his eyes and the faint dusting of freckles across his nose.
Minho looked at him, really looked at him.
He'd seen that pose before. Jisung did it when he was being particularly whiny about wanting something, when he wanted Minho to let him eat the last piece of chicken or stay over even though Minho had class early the next morning. He did it when he was half asleep and wanted Minho's hoodie, when he wanted to get away with something, eyes all wide and pleading.
But here, with the soft light and the cramped booth and the ridiculous little heart icon blinking in the corner of the screen, it hit different. Jisung looked... stupidly adorable. Soft hair falling into his eyes, cheeks puffed, lips pink.
"You're not posing," Jisung said, breaking Minho's brief spell. "Three seconds, Min, come on, do something."
Minho's brain short-circuited for a heartbeat. There was the option of doing some kind of stupid face, to keep the energy light. He could cross his eyes, stick his tongue out, ham it up.
Or-
The countdown blinked: 3... 2...
Minho's mouth moved before his brain fully caught up.
He leaned in.
Their noses brushed first, the angle slightly awkward with how they were squished together. Jisung's eyes widened, a tiny breath hitching between them. Minho's hand found his cheek, thumb catching on the corner of those soft, stupid lips.
Then Minho kissed him.
It was not planned. It was not carefully thought out. It wasn't even particularly graceful. It was just instinct, something in his chest snapping and sending him forward, his lips crashing into the pout he'd been staring at for far too many nights.
The world narrowed down to the warmth of Jisung's mouth against his, the surprised little sound Jisung made that turned into something softer as he leaned in too. Jisung's hands dropped from his flower pose, one landing on Minho's shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.
The flash went off, bright and blinding, somewhere in the edge of Minho's perception. He didn't care.
Outside, the screen updated.
The heart pose disappeared. In its place, a new image: Jisung mid-flower pose, hands falling, eyes wide, and Minho leaning in, one hand on his cheek, their mouths pressed together.
It was a perfect mid-kiss snapshot.
There was a beat of absolute, stunned silence around the booth.
Felix made a noise that sounded like a balloon screeching. Hyunjin's jaw dropped. Jeongin's brain visibly shorted out, the tickets slipping from his fingers to pool on the sticky floor.
"Oh," Seungmin said mildly, appearing at Chan's shoulder with a small bag of gummy worms. "Huh."
Chan blinked. Once. Twice. "Okay," he said, voice strangled with an emotion that was definitely not just surprise. "Okay, that's... that's a thing."
Changbin was the first to recover enough to act. "Wait, we're watching this in real time," he hissed, already gesturing wildly for everyone to get closer. "We have to-don't let them know, don't spook them, just-"
"They're in a photo booth, what are they gonna do, run?" Hyunjin muttered, but he still stepped in, crowding around the tiny screen with the rest of them.
Inside, Minho hadn't yet remembered the existence of the outside world.
He'd kissed Jisung in front of his face before. He'd kissed him pressed up against the kitchen counter, in the quiet of Minho's room, on the back stairwell landing where the light flickered.
But this felt different. It was cramped and hot and weirdly unbalanced, his knees half hanging off the too-small stool. Jisung's hand on his shoulder tightened, his other hand sliding around to the back of Minho's neck, fingers brushing the hair there.
He kissed back, mouth opening under Minho's, and Minho felt like someone had flicked a switch in his chest.
He pulled back a little, just enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together. Jisung's eyes were half-lidded, lashes dark against his cheeks, lips kissed pink and parted.
"What was that for?" Jisung asked, voice barely above a whisper, somewhere between teasing and breathless.
The booth beeped at them, the countdown starting for the next photo.
"I told you," Minho said, voice coming out rougher than he intended. "You're annoying when you're cute."
Jisung huffed a tiny laugh, breath fanning against Minho's mouth. "So you kiss me to punish me?"
"Yes," Minho said solemnly.
The next flash went off just as Jisung burst into a grin and pressed another quick peck to the corner of Minho's mouth. The photo caught them mid-laugh, faces close, Jisung's hand still curled at the back of Minho's neck.
Outside, the new photo replaced the kiss shot. Hyunjin slapped a hand over his own mouth this time.
"They're gonna kill me," Felix whispered, eyes wide and shiny. "I'm so happy. I'm also so betrayed. It's complicated."
"Plot twist," Seungmin said. "They've been flirting this whole time and we weren't imagining it."
"You knew," Jeongin accused him.
"I suspected," Seungmin corrected. "Knowing implies evidence. This is the evidence."
Chan dragged a hand down his face, but he was smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Do we... say something?" he asked, voice helpless. "When they come out?"
"Obviously," Changbin said, scandalized. "How can you even ask that? Look at them."
The final flash went off inside, the machine whirring as it printed out.
Minho finally remembered, as the little chime played, that they were in a public place.
"We should probably... go back out," he said, reluctantly letting his hand drop from Jisung's cheek.
"Right," Jisung said. He wiped at his mouth quickly with his thumb, then realized what he was doing and laughed at himself. "Before they think we got murdered in here."
"Yeah," Minho said. "Murdered."
By feelings, maybe.
The machine spat out two identical strips with a whine. Jisung grabbed them, holding one up so they could both see.
They were... something.
The first strip: chaos. Peace signs, bad brooding faces, a blurry moment of Jisung jamming a hat on Minho's head, their cheeks squished together, Minho's arm around his waist.
The second strip: soft. Heart pose, their hands shaky but adorable; Jisung's too-cute flower pose; the surprise kiss; the laughing, breathless almost-kiss after.
Minho felt his ears go hot.
Jisung stared at the second strip for a long second, the corners of his mouth lifting slowly. His thumb traced over the kiss photo, the small glossy rectangle shining under the booth's light.
"I like this one," he said quietly.
"Yeah?" Minho asked, watching his profile.
"Yeah," Jisung said. He turned, tilting the strip slightly. "Do you?"
Minho looked at it. At them. At how obvious it all was.
"Yeah," he said. His voice came out softer than he meant it to. "I do."
Something in Jisung's expression shifted, like a tension unwinding. He slid one strip into his jacket pocket, patting it twice, then held the other out.
"For you," he said. "Proof."
"Of what?" Minho asked, taking it.
Jisung's eyes sparkled. "Of your crimes."
Minho snorted, but his fingers tightened around the photo strip like it was something fragile.
They pushed the curtain aside together.
The noise of the arcade rushed back in, louder than before, or maybe Minho was just more aware of it now that his heart was hammering at double speed. He stepped out first, Jisung close at his heels.
He expected the group to be scattered. Maybe still at the prize counter, arguing about stuffed sharks versus bouncy balls. Maybe halfway to the exit.
He did not expect them to be standing in a loose semicircle around the booth, all facing it like they were waiting for a show to end.
For a brief, surreal second, Minho thought, This is what a firing squad looks like.
Felix's eyes snapped to them immediately. His whole face lit up, like someone had turned on a switch.
"There they are!" he squealed, voice a little too loud. "Wow, you guys were in there for a while."
"Nice photos?" Seungmin asked, sounding innocently curious, which meant he was absolutely not innocent.
Minho's brain, halfway between blissed-out and stunned, suddenly felt like someone had thrown it in a blender. He froze, photo strip clutched in one hand.
Jisung blinked. Minho could feel, without looking, the second Jisung's instincts kicked in too. He saw it in the way his shoulders squared a little, the way his mouth curled into something breezy.
"Y-yeah," Jisung said, voice hitting a slightly higher register before he cleared his throat. "Just, you know. Photographic evidence that Minho can smile."
"Hey," Minho said, automatically. "I smile."
"Do you?" Hyunjin drawled.
He drifted forward, hands in the pockets of his long coat, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. He stopped by the little screen outside the booth and tapped it with one finger.
The screen, dutifully, was replaying the last few shots on a loop. The heart pose. The flower pose. The kiss. The laughing almost-kiss.
Jisung's words died in his throat.
Minho stared.
For a long, horrible heartbeat, the world narrowed to that tiny glowing rectangle. To his own face, slightly grainy, eyes half closed as he leaned in. To Jisung's, stunned and soft, hand dropping, body angling into the kiss. Over and over, the images cycled, like the world's most incriminating GIF.
"Oh," Jisung said faintly.
"Yeah," Seungmin said. "That's what we said, too."
No one spoke for a second.
Then Jeongin exploded.
"HOW LONG?" he practically yelled, voice cracking with the force of his outrage. He threw his hands up, tickets forgotten on the floor. "HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON? WHY DIDN'T WE KNOW? WHY DID I FIND OUT FROM A PHOTO BOOTH?"
Felix, bouncing in place, looked like he was about to either cry or combust. "They're so cute, oh my god, I knew it, I sort of knew it, but also I didn't, and now I do-"
Hyunjin made a long, impressed sound. "I have to say, the drama of it all? The reveal? Ten out of ten. Very cinematic. You gave us a live broadcast of your romantic arc."
"Of all the ways I imagined this going," Chan said weakly, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "this was not... on the list."
Changbin crossed his arms over his chest, trying and failing to look stern. "You two," he said, pointing between them. "Did you think we wouldn't notice? Or were you planning on, I don't know, just casually getting married one day and being like 'surprise'?"
Minho opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked at Jisung.
Jisung was staring at the screen, cheeks flaming red, eyes very, very wide. Slowly, like his consciousness was rebooting, he brought his hands up to his face, hiding half of it.
"That screen was showing it?" he asked, voice muffled behind his fingers.
"It's been showing it," Seungmin confirmed. "For the past... what would you say, two minutes?"
"Exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds," Jeongin said, because he apparently had been counting.
"Oh my god," Jisung groaned. He dragged his hands down his face, smearing his expression into something agonized. "I want to uninstall my life."
Minho's own shock finally jolted into something resembling thought. His instinct was to retreat, to deflect, to joke it off. He could make some crack about dare games, about accidentally tripping. He could laugh, say something like, "Yeah, yeah, okay, you caught us being stupid, it's nothing."
He looked at the screen again.
At himself, kissing Jisung, hand on his cheek. At them both, smiling into it, even if they hadn't realized.
Then he looked at Jisung, who was still blushing so hard it looked like it hurt, hovering halfway between embarrassment and some kind of stunned happiness. And he thought about late-night ramen, and shared hoodies, and the way Jisung had said I like this one while staring at the printed strip.
Something in his chest settled.
Minho took a breath. It came out shaky, but he made himself meet their friends' eyes.
"It's been a few months," he said. His voice sounded too loud in his own ears, even though the arcade was still buzzing around them. "Since... midterms, I guess."
There was a beat, like the group needed a second to update their internal timeline.
"Midterms?" Felix squeaked. "MIDTERMS? That was four months ago!"
"Four months and... three weeks," Jeongin supplied immediately, because of course he would.
Chan blinked. "That long?" he asked, sounding shocked and, weirdly, a little impressed. "How did you hide it?"
"We didn't hide it, we just... didn't make a big deal about it," Minho said, trying not to fidget under everyone's eyes.
"Minho wouldn't hold eye contact with me for two days after I asked if anything was going on," Seungmin said thoughtfully. "That was a clue."
"Oh my god," Minho muttered.
Jisung finally lowered his hands fully, taking a small step closer to Minho like he was instinctively seeking cover. His shoulder brushed Minho's, his hand brushing Minho's knuckles.
"We were gonna tell you," Jisung said, looking at everyone with an awkward, hopeful little smile. "Eventually. We just... wanted to... you know. Figure it out ourselves first."
Felix made the squeaky balloon noise again. "That's so soft," he said, voice wobbling. "Why is that so soft."
Hyunjin sighed, but it was the fond kind, the one that said you guys are idiots but you're my idiots. "Could've spared Jeongin from the photo booth heart attack, though."
"I'm fine," Jeongin lied immediately. "I'm fine. This is fine. I'm just-" He gestured wildly. "Best friends privilege revoked. Retroactively. I demand emotional compensation. So many compensations. There will be terms."
Jisung's mouth twitched. "Terms," he echoed. "Okay. We can negotiate term payments."
"Term payments?" Minho repeated, brow furrowing.
"Boba," Jeongin said promptly. "At least three times. Each."
"Each?" Jisung yelped.
"You committed fraud," Jeongin said gravely. "Romantic fraud."
Chan finally lost it, laughter spilling out. It broke the tension like a bubble popping. Everyone else followed, the humor catching and spreading until the whole group was laughing, some more wheezy than others.
Felix lunged forward suddenly, wrapping both Minho and Jisung in a hug at once. "I'm so happy for you," he said into Jisung's hair, his arms a surprisingly strong vice around both of them. "You're so cute, I hate you. But I love you. But I hate you."
"Can't breathe," Minho said, muffled against Felix's shoulder.
"Let them live," Hyunjin said, but he reached out anyway to squeeze Jisung's shoulder once, his hand warm and reassuring. "Seriously, though. You do realize we're not... mad, right?"
Jisung peeked up, eyes a little shy now that the worst of the shock had passed. "You're not?"
"Why would we be mad?" Chan asked, stepping closer too, his familiar big-brother calm wrapping around them like another layer of safety. "We're happy for you. I mean-" He gestured helplessly at the screen. "Look at you. Anyone could tell."
"Plus," Changbin added, smirking, "now I win the betting pool, so really, I'm thrilled."
Jisung whipped around. "There was a betting pool?"
Seungmin shrugged. "It was informal. But yes."
Jeongin gasped. "I wasn't in the betting pool. I am personally offended."
"We thought it would be too obvious if we invited you," Seungmin said.
"I hate all of you," Jeongin declared, voice shaking. "Equally."
Felix finally released them from his crushing hug, wiping at his eyes dramatically. "Okay, okay, we have to commemorate this."
"Felix," Hyunjin said. "We literally just did. There's visual evidence. That's the whole problem."
"No, no, I mean like-" Felix pointed to the photo booth with an air of extreme determination. "Group photo. All of us. And then they"-he gestured between Minho and Jisung-"have to do one more couple shot. But this time they know we're watching."
Jisung made a strangled noise.
Minho considered, then found that the idea made his heart beat a little faster, but in a good way. If they were going to be caught, if the secret was out, maybe it could be a little on their terms. Maybe he could choose to lean into it.
"Fine," he said. "But you're paying for the group round."
Felix gasped. "You have a boyfriend and you're still cheap," he accused. "Incredible."
"Unrelated facts," Minho said.
The next five minutes were chaos.
It took actual logistical planning to fit eight people into the tiny booth. Chan grumbled about being too old for this as he bent his head to avoid hitting the top. Changbin insisted on flexing in every shot, which meant both Hyunjin and Seungmin took turns smacking his arm when he blocked their faces. Felix, somehow, always ended up front and center, eyes shining. Jeongin stretched his long limbs over everyone's shoulders, making stupid faces.
Minho and Jisung got squeezed into the back corner, half standing, half sitting on the edge of the stool. Jisung twisted so his back was against Minho's chest, Minho's arms automatically bracketing him in so he didn't topple forward when someone shifted.
"Ready?" Felix said, thumb hovering dramatically over the start button.
"No," Seungmin answered.
"Yes," Jeongin said at the same time.
The first flash went off while half of them were still talking, capturing mid-complaints and mid-laughter.
By the last shot, they'd managed something resembling a normal photo: everyone vaguely facing the camera, most eyes open, most mouths smiling instead of yelling. Minho looked down over Jisung's shoulder at the little screen, seeing their ridiculous, crowded reflection.
He felt... weirdly full. Like his chest couldn't contain everything.
They spilled out of the booth in an ungraceful tangle, collapsing against each other as they laughed, blinking against the outside lights again.
Felix grabbed the printed group strips with a triumphant noise. "I'm putting this on the fridge," he declared.
"Which fridge?" Hyunjin asked.
"All of them," Felix said loftily.
Everyone started arguing over who got which copy. In the middle of the chaos, Seungmin reached out and tugged gently on Minho's sleeve.
"And you two," he said, nodding toward the booth. "Go on. Couple's round."
Jisung's face went red again. "Must we?" he asked.
"Yes," Jeongin said emphatically, pointing. "I need closure. I need a kiss photo that I witnessed in person to heal from the first one."
"That's not how healing works," Chan sighed.
"Debatable," Jeongin said.
Minho looked at Jisung. Their eyes met, and for a second, it felt like the whole world paused around them again. Their friends' voices faded into a background buzz. The booth loomed there, the curtain slightly crooked, the little screen still glowing.
"Are you okay with that?" Minho asked, voice low.
Jisung bit his lip, then let it go slowly. He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Are you?"
Minho thought of secrets, and of the way it had felt to kiss him with the knowledge that they were alone. Then he thought of how it felt now, to have Felix's happy tears and Jeongin's dramatics and Chan's quiet support wrapping around them like another kind of safety.
He took Jisung's hand, lacing their fingers together.
"Yeah," he said. "I am."
Their friends whooped like they'd just scored the winning goal.
They ducked back into the booth, this time deliberately pulling the curtain shut behind them. It felt different now-not because the space had changed, but because they had. The air seemed charged, aware.
"Okay," Jisung said, exhaling a small, nervous laugh. "This is somehow more embarrassing than the first time."
"The first time you didn't know it was being live-streamed to our friends," Minho said dryly. "That's an entirely separate genre of embarrassment."
Jisung groaned. "Don't remind me."
He jammed a few tokens into the slot with more force than strictly necessary. The machine whirred obligingly, the screen lighting up again with their reflection.
They looked different now too, Minho thought. Maybe it was just that he was looking with new awareness, but there was something more... settled about the way they stood. Jisung was still between his knees on the stool, but now Minho's hand rested easily on his waist, fingers splayed. Jisung leaned back into him without hesitation.
"Okay," Jisung said, blinking at the countdown as it appeared. "First pose."
"What is it?" Minho asked.
Jisung glanced back at him over his shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. "We could just... be normal."
"Define normal," Minho said.
"Like this," Jisung said, reaching up to take Minho's hand from his waist and bringing it up, their fingers interlacing in front of them, held in the middle of the frame.
Three... two... one-
The flash caught them with their hands held up, fingers entwined, Jisung's smile soft, Minho's chin resting lightly on his shoulder.
"Okay, now we're definitely getting a frame for that one," Jisung said.
"You're getting a frame for every one," Minho said, but there was no bite in it.
The second shot, Jisung turned fully to face him, knees bracketing Minho's thighs on the stool. He hesitated, biting his lip, then lifted his hands to cup Minho's face.
"This is very cheesy," he warned.
"You literally love cheesy," Minho reminded him.
"Yeah," Jisung said. "I do."
He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Minho's forehead just as the flash went off.
Minho's heart did a weird little flip.
"Third one," Jisung said, voice wobbling slightly now like he was finally letting the weight of the moment sink in. "We should... um."
"Actually look at the camera?" Minho suggested, amused.
"Shut up," Jisung said, but he was smiling.
They both turned to face the screen, shoulders touching, heads tipped together. Jisung lifted one hand and flashed a small peace sign, the other still curled loosely around Minho's waist.
The flash captured them mid-smile, eyes bright.
The fourth shot's countdown started.
Jisung exhaled. "Okay," he said. "We have to do it, right?"
"Do what?" Minho asked.
"Redeem the kiss," Jisung said. "You can't let my flower pose be my legacy."
Minho huffed a soft laugh. "Your flower pose was top tier."
"Stop," Jisung said, but he was blushing again, eyes shy. He wet his lips. "I mean... let's just... do it properly."
Properly.
The last few seconds ticked down.
This time, there was no surprise, no awkward angle. Jisung shifted closer, his knees bumping the booth's wall, his hands sliding to rest on either side of Minho's neck. Minho's hands found his waist on instinct, thumbs pressing lightly into the soft cotton of his jacket.
"You ready?" Jisung asked, voice barely audible over the hum of the booth.
"Yeah," Minho said. He pulled him in.
The kiss was slower this time, less of a collision and more of a meeting halfway. Their mouths fit together neatly, familiar now. Jisung's fingers flexed at the back of his neck, his mouth moving against Minho's like they'd practiced-not that they'd call it that, but that's what it felt like. Something learned and relearned in a dozen quiet moments.
The flash went off, but Minho didn't care about the timing. He kissed him through it, only pulling back when the afterimage of white started to pulse behind his eyes.
"You're such a sap," Jisung murmured against his mouth, even as he followed when Minho tried to lean back.
"You kissed my forehead," Minho pointed out. "Glass houses."
"Shut up," Jisung said, and kissed him again, quicker, punctuating the words.
They collected their new strip, Jisung immediately cooing over it.
"Look at us," he said, holding it up so Minho could see. "We're disgusting."
Minho smiled. "We really are."
He slipped the first strip into his wallet, behind his ID. The second, he let Jisung tuck carefully into his jacket.
When they stepped out again, their friends were waiting, of course.
Felix was practically vibrating. "Show me, show me, show me," he begged, hands reaching.
Jisung held the strip to his chest protectively. "No, this one's for us," he said, nose scrunched. "You already got the live broadcast."
"Unfair," Jeongin complained. "I want season two."
"We'll consider releasing a DVD box set," Minho said.
Hyunjin snorted. "You two are insufferable now. I hope you know that."
"Now?" Seungmin asked.
They lingered around the booth for a few more minutes, everyone talking over each other, working the reveal into every possible joke. Eventually, though, Chan checked the time again and made a herding motion.
"All right, lovebirds and supporting cast," he said. "If we don't leave now, we're going to be sprinting for that bus."
"You didn't sprint for your last romantic revelation and I refuse to sprint for this one," Jeongin grumbled, stooping to finally pick up the pile of prize tickets.
"Just walk," Chan said, exasperated. "Please."
They filed out into the cool night air, the arcade door swinging shut behind them, muting the neon chaos. The streetlights painted the pavement in washed-out yellow, and their breath puffed faintly in the chill.
The bus stop was a five-minute walk away. They fell into loose clusters as they walked: Chan in front, already counting heads like a frazzled parent; Felix and Hyunjin bickering about who had the higher DDR score; Changbin and Seungmin squabbling over the ethics of betting pools.
Minho and Jisung hung back a little, steps automatically syncing.
Their shoulders brushed, then stayed pressed together. The photo strip in Minho's wallet felt like a small, solid secret that wasn't really a secret anymore.
"Well," Jisung said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "That was... not how I expected tonight to go."
"No?" Minho asked, glancing down at him.
"I thought maybe I'd get a keychain," Jisung said. "Or a small plushie if I was lucky. Instead I got outed by a photo booth."
Minho chuckled. "Could be worse."
"How?" Jisung demanded.
"We could have gotten outed by, like, the dorm group chat," Minho said. "With gifs and memes."
Jisung considered that, then shuddered. "Okay, yeah. This was better."
They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of their friends ahead of them a comfortable background noise. Their breath clouded lightly in front of them.
Then Jisung said, more quietly, "You... meant it, right?"
"Meant what?" Minho asked, even though he had a pretty good idea.
"Telling them," Jisung said. He scuffed his shoe against a crack in the sidewalk. "You could've, you know. Played it off. Said it was nothing. You didn't have to... say it's been months."
Minho thought about the second after they'd stepped out of the booth, seeing their kiss on the screen, everyone's faces turned toward them. He thought about the impulse, sharp and familiar, to deflect. To throw up a joke like a shield.
Then he thought about how heavy his wallet felt now, the photo strip pressed against the leather. He thought about the way Jisung had held his hand and asked if he was okay with it.
"I meant it," Minho said. The words felt surprisingly easy now that he'd already said so much. "If they were going to find out, I didn't... want it to be some half-truth. Or some accident we pretended wasn't real."
Jisung looked up at him, eyes wide and a little shiny in the streetlight. "You're such a sap," he repeated, but there was no bite in it this time at all.
"You keep saying that," Minho said. "I'm starting to think you like it."
"Maybe I do," Jisung said. He nudged their hands together-just the backs, brushing once, twice. "Thanks. For, you know."
"Kissing you in a photo booth?" Minho asked.
"For choosing to... not hide it," Jisung said. "Even when you could've."
Minho shrugged, looking away for a second because eye contact suddenly felt like too much. "You're worth the drama," he said lightly.
Jisung laughed, soft and delighted. He slid his hand down, fingers finding Minho's and curling around them, firm. He didn't let go.
"Come on," he said, tugging gently as the bus stop came into view ahead. Their friends were already clustered under the shelter, Jeongin waving their combined shark plushie like a flag. "Let's go catch our ride, boyfriend."
Minho's steps stuttered for a fraction of a second at the word. It wasn't new, not exactly-they'd said it before, quietly, in the dark. But hearing it out here, on a public street, with their friends' laughter and the bus headlights approaching...
He squeezed Jisung's hand.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's go."
They reached the others just as the bus pulled up, brakes squealing. There was the usual scramble for seats, Felix insisting on the window, Changbin refusing to sit still, Jeongin complaining when he got squished in the middle.
Minho slid into a seat near the back. Jisung followed, their hands only breaking apart long enough to navigate the narrow aisle before finding each other again above the shared armrest.
Seungmin, dropping into the seat ahead of them, twisted around. "By the way," he said conversationally. "If you think we're not going to tease you about the photo booth thing for the next decade, you're wrong."
"Can we get a copy?" Felix called from a few rows up. "For... archival purposes?"
"No," Minho and Jisung said in unison.
"We'll trade," Hyunjin offered. "One group strip for one kiss strip."
"We're in the group strip," Jisung pointed out. "That's not a trade, that's extortion."
The bus lurched into motion, carrying them along through the city streets, the arcade's neon glow fading behind them. The chatter continued, rising and falling, full of in-jokes and freshly rewritten memories.
Minho leaned his head against the window, watching their reflection trembling faintly in the glass. Jisung's head tilted, finding his shoulder, hair tickling Minho's jaw. Their joined hands rested between them, a quiet, solid point of contact.
In his pocket, Minho's wallet pressed against his leg. Inside, the small strip of glossy paper held a frozen moment: a cramped booth, a cheesy heart, a reckless kiss.
Outside, on the dim bus, everything was still moving, changing, unfolding. But one thing felt anchored now, clear and unshakable.
They were no longer something half-said, half-hidden. They were Minho-and-Jisung, and everyone knew it, and the world hadn't ended. In fact, it felt a little brighter.
"You know," Jisung murmured, eyes half-closed, "next time we go to an arcade, we're unplugging the outside screen first."
Minho chuckled, low. "Next time, I'm charging admission."
Jisung snorted, his shoulders shaking. "You're the worst," he said affectionately.
"And you're still here," Minho said.
Jisung squeezed his hand. "Yeah," he said. "I am."
The bus rolled on through the night, carrying them back toward the dorm, toward their shared routines and stupid inside jokes and whatever came next. Behind them, in a little corner of the arcade, the photo booth screen probably looped their captured moments a few more times before resetting to a stock slideshow.
But Minho had the real version right here-warm shoulder against his, fingers intertwined, quiet laughter humming through his bones.
And he knew, without a doubt, that this was one memory that didn't need a flashing screen to make it real.