The moment stretched between them like honey dripping from a spoon—sweet, heavy, terrifying. Jiho stared at Minjae, his request hanging in the air between them. Kiss him again? Jiho felt frozen in place, heart hammering against his ribs.
Finally, when the silence had grown almost unbearable, he found his voice.
"W-What?! Are you insane?!" Jiho practically leapt backward like Minjae had suddenly grown horns.
Minjae's lips curled into that infuriating grin of his. "I'm just asking for a favor. One tiny kiss. Just here—" He pointed to his cheek, then at the last second, his finger drifted to his lips, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"YOU—!"
Jiho snatched the nearest pillow and hurled it straight at Minjae's smug face.
Minjae's laugh rippled through the room as he half-dodged, then lunged forward. "Come back here, you coward!"
They tore through the living room, knocking into furniture, sending magazines flying off the coffee table until they both crashed onto the sofa in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter.
Minjae landed flat on his back with Jiho sprawled on top, both panting, faces flushed.
And then everything just... stopped.
Jiho's palms pressed against Minjae's chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat beneath his thin t-shirt. Their faces hovered inches apart. Minjae reached up, tucking a stray strand of Jiho's messy hair behind his ear, fingers lingering just a moment too long.
Their eyes locked.
Then, like gravity pulling them in, their gazes dropped to each other's lips.
The air grew thick. Heavy.
Jiho couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move.
Minjae's playful smile had vanished, replaced by something so intense it made Jiho's stomach flip.
Just when the tension became unbearable
Minjae's hands shot up, grabbing Jiho's cheeks and squishing them together like a fish.
"Boop. Gotcha," he grinned, eyes crinkling.
"I hate you!" Jiho shrieked, scrambling off with his face burning red while Minjae collapsed back onto the couch, howling with laughter.
The doorbell cut through the chaos.
DING DONG.
"M-MY MOM?!" Jiho bolted toward the door like his life depended on it.
Behind him, Minjae sat up straight, smoothing his rumpled hair and folding his hands in his lap, the perfect picture of innocence—like he hadn't just been seconds away from making Jiho's heart explode.
The second the door swung open, Jiho's mom stepped in, arms loaded with grocery bags—and there was Minjae, sunshine and politeness personified, rising to his feet with a deep, respectful bow.
"Hello, ma'am. I'm Minjae. It's really nice to meet you."
Jiho's mom blinked once before her face lit up. "Oh my god! You're so handsome!
Are you Jiho's friend? My Jiho has such a good-looking friend and never told me?!"
"It's not like that..." Jiho muttered, shuffling his feet.
His mom waved him off, still beaming at Minjae. "Why didn't you tell me you were bringing someone over? I would've changed out of this old thing and at least put on lipstick!"
Minjae laughed—a genuine sound that reached his eyes. He glanced at Jiho, who looked like he was mentally drafting his own obituary.
There was something in the way Minjae watched the scene unfold—the easy warmth, the way Jiho fidgeted under his mother's attention, the honest affection coloring her voice. It was worlds away from his own home, where dinner conversations felt like business meetings even when they weren't.
"You're staying for dinner, okay?" Jiho's mom clapped her hands decisively. "And if it gets too late, just stay over. Jiho has spare blankets in his room!"
"No, no, no," Jiho cut in, panicked. "He's not staying. He has to go."
Minjae turned up the charm, his voice softening. "But why? I want to stay, Aunty. You're so pretty and welcoming—I feel right at home."
Jiho's mom giggled like a schoolgirl. "Aigoo, such a sweet talker. I like him."
Jiho groaned while Minjae shot him a victorious smirk.
---
The dining table barely fit the three of them, but the food seemed endless. Jiho's mom kept shoveling more onto Minjae's plate like she was personally responsible for fixing whatever neglect she sensed in his life.
"Ah, Aunty, it's so delicious," Minjae said between bites. "I haven't had a meal this warm in... a while."
He didn't elaborate, but something in the quiet drop of his voice made Jiho look up, catching a flash of something unguarded in Minjae's expression.
"Eat all you want, okay?" Jiho's mom urged. "Come over anytime. You're always welcome."
Minjae smiled—not his usual cocky grin or practiced charm. Something softer, almost raw around the edges.
---
They sprawled across Jiho's bedroom floor later that night, surrounded by blankets and empty snack wrappers. Jiho scrolled mindlessly through his phone, hyperaware of Minjae lying close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
"You're lucky, you know?" Minjae said softly.
Jiho glanced over. "What?"
"Your mom. This house." Minjae gestured vaguely around them. "The way you can yell at her and she still looks at you like you hung the moon."
He paused, gaze fixed on the ceiling.
"I forgot what it feels like... to have someone care that much."
Jiho set his phone down, suddenly not knowing what to say. This wasn't the Minjae he thought he knew—the one who strutted through school hallways making girls swoon and teachers sigh.
This was... real. Unfiltered.
Minjae rolled onto his side, facing Jiho directly. "Today's dinner? That was the best I've had in months.
Not because of the food—but because of the noise. The warmth. The... chaos."
Jiho's heart stuttered in his chest.
"So yeah," Minjae's grin returned, softer at the edges. "I'm staying over. Whether you like it or not."
"Tch. You're such a pain," Jiho rolled his eyes, but his cheeks flushed pink.
"And yet, you haven't kicked me out." Minjae winked.
Jiho said nothing—because, well, he really didn't want him to leave.
---
The room was dark except for the dim glow of Jiho's night lamp. They lay side by side, listening to the quiet hum of the night. Jiho had abandoned his phone hours ago. Minjae stared at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head like he was contemplating the universe.
"Ya... Jiho-ya," Minjae whispered.
"What now?" Jiho mumbled, half-drifting into sleep.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You're already asking."
Minjae shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Jiho's face.
"Why do you always act like you hate me?"
Jiho's eyes fluttered open, his heart skipping a beat.
"Because you're annoying?" he offered weakly.
"Liar." Minjae's smile was barely visible in the dim light. "You don't hate me. You just... don't know what to do with me."
Jiho pushed himself up a little, turning to face him properly.
"And you think you know what to do with me?" Jiho asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Minjae gave a low laugh. "No. That's why I keep coming back. Trying."
The silence between them felt loaded with unspoken words.
"You make me feel something real," Minjae continued. "And that's scary. But also kind of addicting."
Jiho's breath caught. He looked away, teeth sinking into his lower lip.
"Do I scare you too?" Minjae asked.
"...Maybe," Jiho admitted so quietly it was almost inaudible.
Minjae leaned closer—not touching, just there, close enough that Jiho could feel his warm breath.
"Then I won't kiss you tonight."
Jiho blinked, confused. "What?"
"Because I want it to be when you're not scared." A soft smile played on Minjae's lips before he rolled over, pulling the blanket over himself with a satisfied little hum.
Jiho sat there, flustered, staring at Minjae's back.
"Idiot... now I want you to," he muttered under his breath.
"I heard that," Minjae's voice carried a grin in the darkness.
Jiho lobbed another pillow at his head.
Minjae just hugged it tight and fell asleep with a smile on his face.
---