Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jisung is the first one to bring it up, which is a little funny considering Minho has been thinking about it for ages without saying a word.

That’s just how they roll, Minho supposes. 

"Didn't you want to go to the sea?" Jisung asks, tilting his head towards Minho. The spring storm outside is going strong and they’re huddled together under a thin blanket that doesn’t do much except keep them close. Minho hums and looks away from the movie to meet his best friend’s eyes.

"I've been to the sea?" he asks more than states and Jisung waves his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, but family trips don't count," he says. Minho hums again and turns his attention back to the screen where an explosion goes off, the hero barely escaping its reach. "They're all... stiff. And a little boring, once you're out of elementary school. No, I mean, our own movie-like getaway. You and me and— well, the others. Hyunjin would join for sure."

"Then Seungmin would want to come as well," Minho frowns a little. "And my car is cramped as it is with just the two of us."

"Hmm, well," Jisung sighs. Minho spares him a glance from the corner of his eye and he's quick enough to catch Jisung biting his lip. “I mean, it’s not a perfect idea…”

“I didn’t say we shouldn’t go.”

Jisung perks right back up.

"It could be just you and me," Minho continues. He can hear Jisung's shaky inhale and stomps down a rising smile. "That’s a little more ‘movie-like’, no? Two best friends, on a trip of a lifetime?"

"Are you planning on dying sometime soon?" Jisung laughs, just a little breathless. Minho leans in just a tad bit closer, pressing their shoulders together.

"You never know," he answers and raises the movie’s volume, effectively finishing the conversation.

It comes up again after a month or so, when Minho exits his last final and meets Jisung at the mall. 

"You're a free man!" Jisung congratulates him and Minho laughs, ignoring the fistbump and going straight for the hug. Once he's in Jisung's arms, the younger doesn't seem intent on letting go.

He does, eventually, and they sit at a table in the corner, celebrating the occasion with some ice cream.

"So, what now?" Jisung asks. A bit of chocolate is smeared on his chin.

"Sleep for as long as I can," Minho answers, reaching over to wipe it off. Jisung instinctively leans in. "And then I'll dye my hair pink. And then we'll go on our trip." 

“Wait, we’re really going?" Jisung stares at him for a moment and then slams his palms on the table. Minho is glad this time he doesn't have a cup in one of them. "No, pause, hold on, you wanna dye your hair pink?"

"It's a ‘yes’ to both, I guess," Minho smirks around the spoon in his mouth. Jisung stares at him with a half-open mouth for a moment longer before swallowing and looking down.

“Okay, sure,” he says, fiddling with his empty bowl. “When do you want to leave?” 

Minho hums as he finishes his own dessert.

“As soon as possible,” he says and stands up. “Let’s go buy that hair dye?”

Jisung splutters for a moment, blinking up at Minho, then jumps out of his seat, no more uncertainty clouding his expression. 

“Well, you’ll clearly need my help,” he says and Minho rolls his eyes when Jisung winks at him.

Minho grumbles when Jisung pulls at his hair slightly as he dries it with a towel. Dries is a generous word, to be honest, and Minho’s lucky if more than half of his hair is left on his head after this treatment. It was his own idea, though, so he can’t really complain.

“Sorry,” says Jisung, except he doesn’t sound sorry at all; more like a child hopped up on sugar on his way to buy more candies. 

Minho’s mom really likes that gray towel, Minho thinks as he watches himself in the mirror through half-lidded eyes. She got the whole set for Christmas and there’s delicate white outlines of flowers tracing the edges. It’s stained bright pink now, in ugly, uneven streaks that will probably never wash out again and she surely won’t be happy when she finds out.

“Oh,” Jisung gasps when he removes it from Minho’s head. Minho blows at the strands that fall over his eyes, still too damp despite the torture, and, instead of looking at himself, he follows the expressions on Jisung’s face. It’s an amusing journey; from shocked then awed then satisfied with his own handiwork to excited, where his grin finally settles. All twinged with just the slightest aftertaste of longing.

Minho finds he doesn’t care what his mom thinks about the towel, as long as Jisung is smiling like this.

“Looks good,” he says, carding a hand through his newly pink hair.

“Looks good, ” Jisung chokes out a laugh, resting his hands on Minho’s shoulders and leaning forward. The pendant of his necklace lays on Minho’s head, heavy. “Looks amazing , more like. You look actually cool. Wow.”

“Don’t lie, I was always cool,” Minho reaches up and flicks the side of Jisung’s neck. “Anyway, we have some dye left. Want me to give you a couple highlights or something?” 

The towel is already ruined anyway. And pink would fit Jisung.

“Maybe I very much do,” Jisung squeaks out, his grin somehow even wider. Minho laughs and looks back to the mirror to find Jisung’s eyes already on his, sparkly as they always are.

“Your mom let me in,” Jisung says instead of a hello, falling with his whole body onto Minho’s bed. Minho groans, loud and whiny, when he notices Jisung managed to hit bullseye on the clothes he’d put there. “Said you we’re having an ‘existential crisis’.”

“You’re about to have a not-existing-anymore crisis, if you don’t lift your gross ass from my nicely folded clothes,” Minho mumbles.

“I’ll have you know I showered before I came here,” Jisung scoffs but slides down to sit on the ground between two boxes filled with books. “How much are you packing anyway? It’s just a few days.”

“I know,” Minho sighs, taking yet another notebook and wondering whether he’ll need notes on medieval France as a dance major. “Mom said she wants to do some cleaning or whatever while I’m gone, so I’m throwing stuff out. But it’s…”

“Hard,” Jisung finishes. Minho nods and envelopes the whole stack of notebooks close to his chest, then drops them to the Throw the Hell Out pile. It’s smaller than it should be. Probably. Minho doesn’t have much experience with these things.

“It’s a big change,” Jisung says and Minho kicks his outstretched leg.

“What do you know about those?” he asks and decides to leave the rest of sorting for future Minho. “Have you even gone through puberty yet?”

Jisung mocks his words with a deepened voice and Minho laughs, opening a suitcase. He takes the slightly mangled clothes from the bed and carefully transfers them.

“We’ve been friends for quite some time now,” Jisung says, a little out of the blue, while Minho tries to decide which pair of jeans he should take, if any at all. 

“We have,” he says and looks to find a book in Jisung’s hands. It’s the photo album from elementary school times, when he and Jisung met. “Kinda wish that wasn’t true, but…”

“Do you?” Jisung asks without lifting his head. Minho drops a pair of jeans into the suitcase and another to the side, not even looking, before kneeling next to Jisung. His knees bump into Jisung’s leg and he moves instinctively so they both can see the pictures.

“You wouldn’t be in my room if I didn’t want you to be,” Minho says, watching as Jisung brushes careful fingers over Minho’s second grade portrait. Next to it is a picture of them both, in front of their school; back then, Jisung had a couple centimetres on Minho. It changed fast, though.

You wouldn’t be in my heart, he wants to add, though it’s only half true anyway. Minho doesn’t hold much power over that.

“God, your haircuts were despicable,” Jisung sighs and closes the album. Minho laughs as their eyes meet. He still looks a little unsure and Minho wants to get on the road already, before there’s any more doubt. 

“They’ve gotten a little better, haven’t they?”

“Hmmm, colourwise, maybe,” Jisung says and breaks into laughter. Minho giggles, ruffling his hair.

“Same could be said for you,” he says. Jisung’s hair, usually boring and natural, had a drastic change a few weeks ago when he bleached it and then again, less than a week ago, when Minho clumsily smeared left-over pink on the ends. It came out better than he’d hoped for, somewhat of an edgy, but still cute look, and, well. That fits Jisung fairly well.

“Get on with your packing, you lazy ass,” Jisung rolls his eyes and pushes Minho, but his entire body is starting to vibrate with excitement.

Minho does move, much faster than before. The road trip being right by his fingertips is electrifying, so he hurriedly throws in the rest of his belongings and watches Jisung from the corner of his eye as he coos and awws over Minho’s toddler photos.

Minho throws in the ruined grey towel as well, almost like an afterthought, and then closes his suitcase with a thud.

It’s almost half past eleven on a sunny Tuesday when they finally secure their seat belts and leave in Minho’s silver Toyota. Jisung waves at Minho’s mom as they pull away and then turns to the radio the moment she’s out of sight.

“Oh, it still doesn’t work.” Minho scrunches up his nose. “I didn’t manage to get it fixed in time.”

“Ugh, gross,” Jisung pouts. Minho shrugs, glancing at his friend and then back to the street. 

“I think I have some CD’s in the glovebox, you could look for them. The player still gets weird sometimes, but at least it works."

Jisung grins at that. Minho smiles back and grips the steering wheel tighter, feeling the excitement course through his veins.

After a little while, just as they’re passing through the suburbs, Jisung exclaims happily and Minho turns to him. There’s an old, dusty leather CD case in Jisung’s hands. His hair softly moves in the wind from the cracked window, shiny in the morning sun. He looks really happy. 

Minho’s fingers twitch on the wheel. His heart speeds up, eager.

“Anything good?” Minho asks, swallowing hard and looking back to the road to pass another car. The sky is a perfect stretch of blue, the bright sun somewhere to the right behind Minho where it’ll hopefully stay for a while.

“Uh,” Jisung sounds a little disappointed and Minho spares another glance towards him to find his brow furrowed. “There’s only one CD,” he says and pulls it out. It’s a blank one, coloured sunflower yellow with “mix.” written in the middle in thick black marker.

“Huh,” Minho reaches over to take it. “Hopefully it’s good.”

It takes a few moments and then the first notes finally play. Jisung laughs out loud, and turns the volume up.

“Oooh, you make me live,” he sings, grinning wide, and Minho giggles, joining in. He rolls the windows down a little lower. They leave the last house of the city in the dust as the car speeds up.

They sing along to the song, maybe a little too loud, maybe a little off key, but it doesn’t matter. Jisung has his eyes closed, head thrown back, and Minho taps to the beat on the steering wheel.

“You’re my best friend ,” Jisung shouts, poking Minho’s shoulder and he blindly bats at him. Jisung oooh’ s, sticking his head out the window and Minho chuckles, pulling at his shirt.

“Get back inside,” he scolds and immediately regrets it when Jisung leans straight into his ear to sing, his breath warm on Minho’s cheek. It tickles just a little and makes Minho giggle even more. He feels light as he looks at the road ahead.

The sun heats the air slowly but steadily and far away the highway glints as if wet. Minho rests his elbow on the car door, rubs at his eyebrow, taps the wheel, glances at Jisung.

He has tired himself out with some more songs and now is quietly leaning against the window, watching trees pass. The sun shines from behind him, making the silver around his chain sparkle.

Minho blinks hard, looks back to see a small rest stop and makes a decision.

Jisung perks up as Minho turns the car.

“Let’s take a break,” he says before Jisung can ask and parks. It’s just a rectangular stretch of pavement near the road, but that’s the best they have until the next gas station. “You hungry?” 

Jisung yawns and rubs his eyes before nodding.

Minho turns around to rummage on the backseat while Jisung climbs out and stretches up.

They lean against the hood, watching cars speed past as they munch on the sandwiches Minho’s mom packed. It’s a little busier than Minho anticipated, but nothing horrible. Even with the sun shining on them, it’s less stuffy than in the car, and unfolding their legs feels amazing.

“Are you having fun so far?” Minho asks, elbowing Jisung. He hums for a moment.

“It’s good,” he says with his mouth stuffed full and Minho pokes his cheek, making him frown. “We could have invited the others too, though.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough?” Minho pouts. “Don’t forget, I’m the one who drives.” 

He laughs when Jisung sticks his tongue out. 

“On second thought, this is perfect,” Jisung hums and stands up, stretching his arms up again. 

Minho takes his time finishing his sandwich as he looks Jisung over, from his white sneakers and striped socks to blue jean shorts and yellow t-shirt. He seems to already have regained his energy, bounding off closer to the road.

“Look!” Jisung exclaims and squats down. Minho dusts his hands off and comes to join him.

Along a crack in the pavement, there’s a stretch of delicate flowers, thin stems rising high with tiny petals in blue and purple.

Jisung picks a couple almost immediately and answers to Minho’s raised eyebrow with a shrug.

“Someone will drive over them anyway,” he justifies.

“I guess so,” Minho muses, looking down to carefully brush his fingers over the forget-me-nots. “A little funny, though, how—”

The rest of his sentence dies in Minho’s throat when Jisung’s own fingers brush against his ear; just as careful, if not more, barely a touch Minho can feel.

He glances up to find Jisung’s face close to him, lips parted open as he concentrates on securing the flowers. Minho regrets the breeze that was so welcome just moments before, the way it brushes Jisung’s subdued breaths away from his skin. But it also ruffles his pink-ended hair just enough, makes it sway across Jisung’s forehead. He looks as gentle as his fingers are on Minho.

“All done,” Jisung sighs, leaning back. Minho blinks at him, willing his heart to slow down. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek. Jisung’s gaze is so open, so full of love that Minho struggles to breathe under its rush. He wonders if Jisung knows that.

“It’s nothing,” he brushes off and reaches up to hover around his ear, scared of messing up Jisung work.

And oh so tempted to do it on purpose, just to have Jisung lean back in.

“What’s up with these?” Minho asks, letting his hand fall back by his side. Jisung grins.

“I thought the colours would look nice with your hair,” he shrugs, a stroke of smugness in his smile. “And they really do.”

“Oh,” Minho tilts his head, all too aware of every movement and the way it drags Jisung’s eyes away from his back to the flowers. His throat feels a little dry. “Well then, would you like one too?..”

There’s a beat of silence before Jisung laughs and jumps up, a beat during which Minho fights so hard to contain the longing to tilt just a bit forward and connect their lips. 

The beat passes. Jisung hovers over Minho.

“Let them grow,” he says and stretches a hand out to Minho. Minho rolls his eyes and takes it. Jisung’s palm is soft and warm under his own.

The forget-me-nots flutter in the breeze that flows through the halfway open windows. He’d stuck them behind the sun visor after they got back in and the flowers fell into his lap. Jisung pouted a little, hands already reaching out to secure them back behind Minho’s ear. Minho just rolled his eyes and reminded him of the seatbelt.

“They’ll just fall again,” he reasoned, both to himself and to Jisung. 

Barely minutes later, Jisung is already on the brink of dozing off, despite the earlier burst of energy. 

Minho glances at him as often as he can, with so many cars on the road. He’s slouching towards the window, thumbing through his phone, though Minho is pretty sure there’s hardly any internet with the fields surrounded by fields that they’re driving past. Some strands of pink brush below his eyebrows but Jisung can’t seem to bother pushing them away. His face is slightly flushed, a sheen of sweat starting to show, and the corners of his lips are drooping a little low.

Their eyes meet for a moment and Minho immediately focuses his attention to the sign right behind Jisung.

“There’s a gas station close by,” he announces as if that’s what he’s been looking for this whole time. Jisung lets out a low woohoo and Minho sighs.

The air hangs heavy even with the wind and the quiet is pushing into Minho’s brain too. He reaches over and the opening snaps of “Killer Queen” fills the car easily.

He looks up and finds he can see some of his own hair in the rear view mirror, ruffled by the wind, right next to the flowers. The colours really do go together nicely and it makes him smile a little.

Jisung hums along to the song for a moment before slumping down even harder.

“I want cheesecake,” he whines, childlike, and Minho has to bite his lip to not burst out laughing.

“Maybe they’ll have some.” He tries to sound hopeful but it comes out pitiful.

“Why didn’t we take any with us?” Jisung rolls his body towards Minho, eyes sorrowful.

“As if it wouldn’t be gone in the first five minutes.”

“Slander!” Jisung protests. Minho spares another glance, eyes sliding down to where Jisung’s shirt rides up his waist. “It would take me at least ten minutes to remember I had it.”

“Five minutes here or there, what does it matter?” Minho keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead.

It’d be embarrassing to fold now, when the end goal is so close he can almost taste it on his tongue, salty just like the sea and sweet just like the cheesecake Jisung is making him crave.

“That’s definitely not something she said,” Jisung giggles.

Minho takes the sharp turn, enjoying the way his friend gasps.

“You idiot!” Jisung slaps his shoulder when they’re parked by the gas pump. Minho cackles. “What if,” he slaps Minho again, but it’s not hard enough to interrupt his laughter, “I died? Or got hurt,” another hit, “or something?”

“But you didn’t!” Minho grabs Jisung’s wrist. “This time.” He winks at Jisung and scrambles to get out of the car when the boy raises his other fist.

Jisung gets out as well, the glint of murderous intent still in his eyes and Minho hurries to remind him of coffee’s existence.

While Jisung works the self-service coffee machine, Minho tops off the fuel tank. They get ice cream to eat by the beat down plastic table in the corner. There's only two flavours; Minho takes the vanilla and Jisung grabs the chocolate. It doesn't matter anyway. They keep taking spoonfuls from each other's cups until both of the desserts are a muddled mix.

"Don't fall asleep now," Minho pokes Jisung's cheek once they're back in the car. "Gotta keep me entertained and awake so I don’t kill us both."

"Are you saying dying together with me wouldn't be an honour?" Jisung bats his eyelashes and dodges another poke to the cheek.

Right before he turns back into the highway and speeds off, Minho takes a glance towards the billboard further ahead. The watch on his wrist shows almost exactly midday. There's still plenty of time and Minho doesn't even debate the thought.

"Hey," he turns to Jisung, who's busy fiddling with the CD player. "Wanna go to the zoo?"

Jisung’s eyes widen and his mouth forms an O as he nods enthusiastically; from the car speakers, Freddie Mercury cries out about wanting to break free.

“Turn left in one-hundred meters,” the calm female voice of the GPS speaks up and Minho glares at the device.

“There isn’t anything on the left to turn into!” he almost shouts and Jisung convulses with laughter, no more sound escaping his throat since the last time they had to turn around.

“I think I’m gonna die, oh god,” he chokes out somehow.

“Turn left in fifty meters.”

“So will this piece of crap,” Minho grits through his teeth. 

The supposed place he has to turn into is a building, so he keeps going forward—met with a ”Turn around.” of course—and then turns left much further.

“Maybe she just thinks you have an extremely long car,” Jisung offers, looking through the window.

Minho just grumbles, looking at the changed route that insists he turns around. Before he can give in and try again, Jisung tugs on his sleeve and points towards a giant poster off to a side on a building’s wall.

It displays an arrow at the bottom that turns up and big, bold letters talking about zoo relocating. Visit us! it exclaims and Minho groans, stepping on the pedal.

“I’m trying to,” he mumbles. 

“Turn arou—”

There are few things as satisfying as finally shutting that pesky voice up.

The zoo is open and busy. Minho is glad to find a parking spot under the shade and by the time he gets out, Jisung is already halfway through the parking lot. Minho laughs as he catches up, Jisung’s quick feet stopped by the queue at the ticket booth.

“Don’t get lost,” he cautions, stepping close to Jisung and pulling out his wallet.

“I’ll try,” Jisung says and pushes Minho’s hand down. “Also, I’m paying.”

“It was my idea,” Minho argues. “At least let me pay for myself.”

“Nope,” Jisung shakes his head. “Fully my treat. It’s only fair.”

Minho would argue, considering he’s the one between them that had something resembling a job, but Jisung has that twinkle in his eye that means he will publicly embarrass Minho if he keeps pushing. 

“Fine,” Minho shrugs, stuffing his wallet back in. “But then you’re buying lunch too.”

“Oh, well, I hope you like water, because that’s all I’ll be able to afford.”

Minho chuckles, looking away. The big family at the front must have moved on, leaving a wide gap and he’s late to move, so Jisung takes his hand and drags him forward.

Minho startles a little at the contact, even though it’s nothing new for them; Jisung is touchy and needy and Minho likes to indulge him. Right now, though, he’s a little on the edge from their trip so far and everything that lies ahead.

And yet, Jisung’s hand is a comforting weight Minho didn’t know he needed.

He interlaces their fingers and when Jisung raises an eyebrow at him, Minho meets it with a full-on smirk. 

“Gotta make sure you don’t stray away.”

Jisung tries to hide the blush high on cheeks by turning away but the twitch of his fingers in Minho’s says it all and more.

There’s just one more family in front of them, two parents and toddler twins. The father with carefully slicked back hair throws them a disgusted glance as they walk away with their tickets. Minho can see him mouthing an insult before he’s out of sight, but he does his best to ignore the pang of anger and upset in his chest. He just grips Jisung’s hand tighter.

They’re handed two tickets with dark green silhouettes of animals and a big map that’s mostly green, so bright it’s almost neon, with horrible cheetah pattern borders.

“They don’t even have cheetahs here,” Minho tuts in mock disgust once they step past the gate.

“False advertisement,” Jisung shakes his head before pointing to a small table in a corner. “Oh! Look! We could totally make it to a sea lion feeding!”

“Well then let’s go!” Minho swings their still joined hands a little and lets Jisung pull him along the path. “Hopefully you’re better at reading maps than my GPS.”

“Cut her some slack,” Jisung says, pulling them through a group of what looks like kindergartners. “Maybe the maps just weren’t updated yet.”

Minho wants to argue more but his attention is occupied by all the enclosures they skip right past. 

“Oh, we have to go back here later, I think I saw bunnies.”

“Where?” Jisung stops, turning back, before shaking his head and continuing. “We will, we will, but this first.”

“Of course, watching sea lions eat is very important,” Minho agrees with the most serious voice he can muster, making Jisung chuckle.

They make to the rocky pool with a couple minutes to spare, and squeeze in close to the fence around the moat. There’s a sign with the sea lions’ names and Minho giggles, tugging Jisung closer and pointing at one of them.

“'Freddie, after the legendary Freddie Mercury.’ ” Jisung reads out loud and laughs. “Oh wow, he’s really following us everywhere, isn’t he?”

Minho doesn’t get a chance to quip back because the workers with buckets appear and Jisung’s attention is already with the sea lions. He giggles and awws with the crowd as they follow the workers and twist around, and it is a cute visual, but Minho’s gaze strays towards Jisung himself. The way his eyes almost squeeze shut with glee, the way sunrays, now coming from straight above them, bounce around in the blond roots of his hair, the way he turns to Minho all sparkly-eyed.

Jisung whines quietly when the workers say goodbye and the sea lions dive back into the water. Minho squeezes his hand and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Bunny time?”

Once they take a million pictures of the bunnies, they head towards the buildings. They spend a fair amount of time inside; it’s much more pleasant than the constant wave after wave of heat outside, with not enough empty space for anything more than a subdued breeze. 

They go for the terrarium section first, Minho quietly following as Jisung bounds from one display to another. The delight on Jisung’s face when he notices every chameleon, the way he excitedly reads facts to Minho, so fast they can barely be understood, the joyful noises at seeing the turtles—it’s all so much, so close that it’s almost impossible for Minho to focus on the animals themselves and not the boy besides him.

There’s aquariums too, in a round room, and the dim light washes over Jisung’s face with blue, an occasional ripple drawing a swirl or two on his skin. He looks almost ethereal, eyelashes fluttering as he watches fish swim, using their linked hands to point towards the ones whose names he knows.

Minho finds it hard to swallow as he focuses on where their skin meets, somehow staying connected through all the wandering so far. There’s a feeling in his gut, heavy and uncomfortable. Minho wonders if Jisung feels it too.

Even though he is well aware that they’re staying in the same city, that there’s no real separation happening besides the fact they won’t meet at school anymore, this summer still feels like a ticking clock towards something. Some kind of breaking point. A change. 

And the truth is, though Minho is excited for the future and all the good it’s bound to bring, he wishes time could just stop, right now, right here. Both of them suspended in the light that dyes them blue, with hands clasped tight together. He wishes so hard his chest aches with a wordless prayer. 

Minho lifts his eyes up and they meet Jisung’s dark ones. He wonders if the wish is clear in them, just as if not more than the glass that keeps the water and fish from spilling onto the floor. The love that swells in Minho’s chest surely would spill straight into Jisung, if they were any closer, if their longing lips were allowed to touch.

Neither of them moves a muscle until they look away, so still they barely breathe. 

The gaze they shared feels like the quietest confession.

But time moves on, and Minho laughs when Jisung compares his hair to a pinkish coral, lets him lead them into the outside while they argue about shades and hues. 

They eat lunch at a table outside by a pond where ducks waddle around begging for scraps. Despite his threats by the gate, Jisung buys actual food and later on a seed mix to feed the birds.

“Look, look,” Jisung leans in close, fingers wrapped around Minho’s upper arm, pointing to a couple of big white birds, floating towards them. “Swans!”

“They’re so pretty,” Minho smiles and Jisung hums.

“Did you know they mate for life? So they’re probably a couple,” he muses and Minho throws him a side-glance before looking back at the birds crowding by his feet.

“A couple of besties! Just like us,” he smirks and Jisung lets out a laugh before tugging on a strand of Minho’s hair.

“You’re not pretty enough to be a swan,” he teases.

“Maybe not, but neither are you,” Minho shoots back. A duck quacks as if agreeing and he raises an eyebrow. “And I would pass purely because of my meanness.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Jisung tugs harder till Minho turns his head and pretends to bite his hand. “You’re not mean at all. You’re just a big soft kitten.”

“The biggest. I’m a whole mountain lion.”

“Oh, you mean a cougar? You’re a cougar?” Jisung’s mocking tone doesn’t last long before he breaks into laughter. Minho rolls his eyes.

“I could eat you in one bite,” he threatens. “You’re just, what, a tiny squirrel? A little rodent? That’s not even enough for a snack.”

“Ugh, you wish you were half of a snack that I am,” Jisung scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Sorry, I personally don’t want to get eaten,” Minho turns to laugh at Jisung. Both of their cocky facades fall as soon as the swans reach the stairs that rise from the pond.

“I don’t want to get beaked either, so, uh, let’s go check out that monkey enclosure?” Jisung offers, already out of his seat, reaching out a hand towards Minho. 

Minho pretends he doesn’t see the flicker of surprise in his eyes when he grabs Jisung's hand and intertwines their fingers again.

“Let’s,” he says and they both hasten their pace as one of the swans takes the smallest step towards Minho, giggling as they scurry away.

They collapse inside the car a couple hours later, sweaty and tired and the tops of their noses a little sunburnt. Jisung had insisted they can’t leave without visiting the gift shop, which is why Minho has a bucket hat to throw into the back seat. It’s a boring sandy color with silhouettes of animals circling it, not unlike the ones on the tickets. It’s also probably the ugliest thing he’s ever bought.

“No,” Jisung whines, watching it disappear between car seats. “Why won’t you wear it?”

“It’s gross!” Minho protests. “And a waste of money! I can’t even let myself wear it when no one besides you can see.”

“It’s not that gross,” Jisung rolls his eyes. “You’re just spoiled. I’d even say you look cute with it.”

“Soon you'll look real cute on the side of the highway. Besides, easy for you to say,” Minho gestures vaguely towards the t-shirt Jisung is wearing. It’s pure white with no and given written in the front in light brown, between them an outline of a fox head. It’s slightly too big for him, in an almost intentional way. “Yours is lame but it’s not all that ugly.”

“You could have gotten one of these then,” Jisung lights up and for a moment Minho is worried he will run right back there and buy one for him too.

“Eh, that’s the only decent pun there,” Minho sighs and leans back to navigate out of the parking spot. Jisung tears open the giant pack of gummy animals he bought and Minho gives him the side-eye, but opens his mouth when he offers one. It’s shaped like a lion’s head.

“Oh!” Jisung jumps up, patting his pockets frantically.

“Good god, don’t tell me you forgot your phone,” Minho groans, pressing on the brakes for a moment as he watches Jisung search.

“No, no,” he shakes his head and grins once he finds it. “I got this! Isn’t it adorable?”

It’s a keychain of a plushy chipmunk, barely half the size of Jisung’s palm.

“It is,” Minho admits. Jisung struggles to hang it on the rear-view mirror, but by the time they’re out of the parking lot, the plushie is swinging along, big black eyes sparkling.

Minho grins as he thinks to the other sparkly eyes besides him.

“You think we’ll get lost again?” Jisung asks, mouth full of gummies. Minho opens his mouth in silent plea and gets a shark shaped one.

“Can’t get lost if you don’t have a destination,” Minho shrugs and Jisung frowns.

“We do! The sea! Did you forget?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t,” Minho laughs. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it.”

“We better,” Jisung pouts. “I don’t want to miss the sunset.”

Minho’s heart flutters. Right. The sunset. On the beach. That is the plan.

He doesn’t even notice as he speeds up.

The hour hand of Minho’s watch is halfway towards five; they’re long past the zoo. The sun is still bright and strong, but this particular patch of the road flows through a forest. There’s only one or two cars every once in awhile now and the air is cool and fresh, keeping both of them awake and alert.

For a while now, Jisung has been recounting all the dumb things he and Changbin had did, interrupting himself to sing along to Queen.

Just as he’s belting out a very emotional rendition of the intro of “Don’t Stop Me Now”, Minho slams on the brakes with all his strength.

Jisung chokes on his words. 

“cause I’m having a good time, having a good time,” the music goes on without him.

Minho immediately whips his head towards the younger. He’s glad to find it’s not the seatbelt and just surprise, but still, he rubs a hand over Jisung’s thigh, squeezing the muscle the slightest bit.

“You okay?” Minho asks, a little breathless. Jisung’s widened eyes meet Minho’s as he nods and then they both look out towards the road. 

There, almost on the road, stands a moose. It doesn’t have a leg out of the grass, frozen, head turned towards the car. Minho wonders if it’s actually that giant or if his mind is playing tricks on him.

“I’m gonna go, go, go, there’s no stopping me!” the song continues and it could be funny if Minho’s brain had the capacity for funny right now.

“Lucky it didn’t run out,” Jisung says, his voice trembling and quiet.

“Too close for comfort still,” Minho mumbles back, his hands shaking. He presses down on Jisung’s thigh harder.

Neither of them move; the car and the moose stay in a standstill.

Minho flexes the fingers on Jisung one last time before putting his hands back on the wheel. Jisung’s breaths still come a little irregular, so Minho tries to give him some space, biting his lip as he waits for the moose to do anything.

“I’m having such a good time, I’m having a ball.” Truly, the best time, Minho thinks as his foot twitches.

“What do we do?” Jisung finally asks, his voice back to normal. Minho sighs.

“...I’m not sure. Maybe if I drive real slowly—”

“No!” Jisung gasps, one of his hands coming to lay on Minho’s. “You can’t do that! What if spooks it even more and it runs into the road?”

“I’m a rocket ship on my way to Mars on a collision course—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Minho growls out, slipping one hand from under Jisung’s warm, comforting one, and pushes the play button. “Not now.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung’s fingers brush over Minho’s skin. The edge of anxiety creeping back into in his voice grabs onto Minho’s frustration and settles it.

Jisung, as worried as he is, shouldn’t be comforting Minho as he bristles at the CD with the worst timing ever. It should be the other way around.

But the truth is, Minho’s just as distressed.

The car suddenly feels too quiet. Minho almost regrets turning the song off. 

“I’m fine,” he sighs and turns his hand over their fingers can intertwine. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. “ We’re fine.”

“We are,” Jisung answers and meets Minho’s gaze with a small smile.

Minho swallows and looks back ahead, but the animal is already gone.

“Let’s keep going?” he asks Jisung, voice gentle. Jisung bites his lip, looking back out.

“Yeah,” he says and fixes the forget-me-nots that almost slipped off from behind the visor. “We gotta.”

The rest of the drive through the forest is tense. Minho goes much slower, both of them quiet as they look out towards the trees. The wind seems to have picked up, rustling the tops of the trees. Every time a shadow, just a tad too big, moves, Jisung startles.

It’s not the way he usually does, fully involved like with everything; now it’s subtle, barely a tilt of his head or a lift of a shoulder or a twitch of a knee. Minho catches every cue and makes sure to reach over and comfort him with a touch of some kind.

After the third time, he gives up and just leaves his hand on Jisung’s thigh again.

It feels like hours by the time the fields are there again and Minho has never been more happy to see emptiness. He’s on the lookout for a gas station, feeling the heaviness of his eyelids.

The hand on Jisung’s thigh stays there.

There’s no gas station to be seen yet and both of their stomachs are making themselves known, so Minho turns into the first little restaurant he spots.

It’s small, but cozy, all wood tones and plenty of plants. Besides the two of them, there’s only a family, loudly packing up. A younger boy asks when will they finally reach the sea and Jisung turns to Minho. 

“Family trip, eh?” he asks, grinning as he bumps their shoulders together. Minho hums.

“Looks like fun times to me,” he says, following Jisung as he picks a table. It’s next to a window, a small vase with a couple leafy plants, probably fake.

“Elementary school,” Jisung states, pulling out a chair. Minho smiles a little, remembering spring. It feels ages ago. Nowadays, a couple months might as well be. 

He turns back just as the family walks to the door.

“The girl seems like middle school.”

“No,” Jisung shakes his head and picks up the menu. It’s a single laminated page, dark brown with white text. “Latest year of elementary. Trust me.”

Minho hums. “I could go ask? They’re still in the lot.”

“Uh, maybe don’t,” Jisung chuckles. “Can’t drive us if you’re arrested for being a creep.”

The waitress walks up to them. She smiles at them softly, wrinkles deepening, as she takes their orders. 

“On your way to the sea, are you?” she asks when she brings their coffee and Minho nods politely. “Last kick before uni, I know the type,” she hums. “Well, hope y’all have fun!”

Minho mutters an awkward thanks, wishing the coffee was cold so he could down it already. Jisung stays quiet, just staring at his own cup, so Minho kicks his shin lightly when she leaves.

“We should have asked about dessert,” he speaks up and Jisung tilts his head.

“You think they’d have cheesecake?” he asks and Minho can hear the hope buried deep in his voice.

“Worth a try,” Minho shrugs. Jisung gives him a small smile.

Silence falls again; somewhere, maybe in the kitchen, there’s music, because some guitar strums, barely there, still reaches them. Minho’s not sure what to say and Jisung seems pretty content with just looking at the coffee.

“So, uni, huh?” he finally says and Minho blinks at him.

“Yeah?”

“How’s the applications going?” Jisung catches Minho’s stare for barely a second before leaning his cheek on a palm and letting his gaze fall.

“Oh!” Minho perks up. The rush of getting back emails easily comes back to him and he can taste the pride in the back of his throat. “You won’t believe, I got so many acceptances, even from the ones I applied without any hope.”

“Really?” Jisung mumbles, picking up the teaspoon and sticking it into the cup.

“This big school in America said yes, can you imagine?” Minho giggles a little but quickly scrunches up his nose. “Not that I’d go there. But I got quite a few offers around Europe too.”

“Wow,” Jisung looks at him through his eyelashes and the corners of his lips turn up. “Guess you’re worth something, huh?”

“Apparently!” Minho beams and then he thinks about the university in their hometown, the small flat he has already picked out. How perfect it could be for two people.

He almost vibrates with the need to ask Jisung, but it’s too soon, way too soon. Besides, they have to get to the beach first.

“What about you?” he kicks Jisung lightly again. “Did you start thinking?”

“Kinda,” Jisung shrugs. “There’s a couple in our city—”

Minho lights up, wondering if one of them is the same one as his; he’s about to ask when the waitress comes back with their food.

“Ah, excuse me,” he calls to her the last moment. Jisung lifts his head, wide eyes taking in Minho’s every movement.

“Yes, dear?” she asks, coming back closer.

“You wouldn’t happen to have cheesecake?” Minho asks, sparing a glance towards Jisung to find a small smile on his lips.

“Only the best one this area can offer,” the waitress beams before walking away. “Lucky for you!”

Minho raises his eyebrows at Jisung. “Told you it’s worth it.”

Jisung laughs for a moment before quieting down.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pushing food around his plate with the fork. “About uni…”

“Maybe... let's not,” Minho interrupts him, reaching for the salt. His tongue itches to ask; would you come live with me, would you want to, there’s two bedrooms but we could make one into a studio for you, wouldn’t that be perfect?

It’s way too soon, though, so he just says: “A little later, okay?” and decides to leave it at that. Jisung just nods and then stuffs his mouth full.

The cheesecake practically melts in their mouths and Minho lets Jisung have half of his portion.

"Maybe this trip was a good idea after all," Jisung mumbles through a full mouth and Minho kicks his shin.

"Wait till we finally get there," he laughs. Jisung looks up, a little surprised like he didn’t expect Minho to hear him, but the look quickly disappears. He puts his fork down.

"It feels like we've been on our way for forever," he whispers. Minho subconsciously leans forward to catch his words. "But at the same time, I hope it never ends."

Minho chuckles and picks up Jisung's fork.

"I thought you’d be tired of the driving already," he asks, feeding a bite to the younger. Jisung shrugs as he swallows.

"Yeah... but still."

"Endings are scary," Minho muses and Jisung nods, looking at him. Something in his eyes that Minho can't quite translate, so he just lifts another forkful of the dessert towards Jisung’s lips.

Minho takes the next bite himself, mind starting to wander in the silence that settles. He can’t deny the truthfulness of the statement; if endings didn't terrify him, why else did he keep putting off taking that next step in their relationship for so long?

He’s well aware of how Jisung feels. He could see it clear as day since way back when, and if Jisung has been paying attention, he must know too. In Minho’s opinion, his own feelings are barely hidden, bubbling right under his skin. So, admitting them out loud to each other should come naturally to them. The way everything else does—just like how they became best friends days after meeting. 

But that's the thing, isn't it? They've been friends for so long, have settled so deeply into the same routines, that a change in their relationship seems almost too improbable and pretty scary. In the end, that’s just the way all change can feel, even the good kind.

And yet, Minho can see the potential so clearly; all of the possibilities linger under his eyelids, so solid, so tangible, he could swear they're just memories from a past life.

Besides, even things that seem scary can be exciting, and Minho's more than eager to finally tell Jisung just how much he cares. To finally find out how Jisung’s lips taste.

"What are you thinking about?" Jisung asks, kicking Minho and stealing the fork from his hand. Minho startles a little, kicks back instinctively.

“Ah, I’m just wondering…” he trails off, looking through the window at the trees gently swaying in the wind. “I swear, there was a case full of CD’s in my car. Not the leather one you found.”

“Oh,” Jisung shrugs. “I didn’t see much else in the glovebox.”

Minho hums and crumbles up a napkin. “Maybe it’s in the trunk.”

“What, are you bored of Queen already?” Jisung smirks. The fork clatters against the empty place. 

“No,” Minho scoffs. “Isn’t variety the spice of life though?”

“I can give you variety,” Jisung raises an eyebrow and Minho recognizes the look in his eyes, hurrying to press a palm over his mouth. Jisung still tries to share his rendition of the “Numa-Numa”, albeit very muffled.

“Stop,” Minho laughs and Jisung doesn’t even bother pulling his hand away, just keeps mumble-singing like that.

“Your check?” 

Minho moves away so fast he would have toppled down to the ground with the chair if not for Jisung grabbing his wrists.

“Thank you,” Jisung says and he has enough dignity to have shame redden his cheeks. The waitress wears a small smile on her face as she watches them bicker over who should pay. When Minho finally wins and pushes the bills, a generous tip included, towards her, she just gives him a quick wink.

“Good luck,” she says before leaving and for a moment Minho wonders whether she means the rest of the trip or what waits at its end.

They get back into the car and before Minho can turn the key, Jisung pokes his shoulder.

“There’s a connection here! We should send a selfie to the groupchat,” he giggles, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“They’ll be so jealous, won’t they?” Minho bats his eyelashes and Jisung scoots closer, pulling Minho by his sleeve.

“Absolutely,” he answers. “I can already see the pouts.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Minho chuckles and puts his chin on Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung opens up the camera app, already starting to pose but Minho stops him, reaching for the screen.

“Is that a photo of me?” he asks, squinting at the small thumbnail. It seems like a picture of him behind the wheel and he wonders when Jisung managed to take it.

“Uh, no,” Jisung answers, sounding like a total liar and moves his hand higher, quickly pressing on the capture button so the thumbnail is now a blurry photo of them. “You saw nothing.”

“No creepy photos of your best friend?” Minho asks, watching Jisung’s side profile. Their faces are so close, he could nuzzle Jisung’s cheek. He can smell Jisung’s grape-scented shampoo and the chocolate from the cheesecake still lingering, can easily count every eyelash, can see the reddened skin—from the sun or their closeness, or maybe both. Could lean in and kiss Jisung’s face the same way the sun has been doing this whole day.

Instead he sticks out his tongue and touches Jisung’s cheek with it.

“What the hell?” Jisung shrieks and Minho cackles as he moves away.

“It’s payment!” he shouts before licking his lips. “Mmm, salty.” 

Jisung pretends to gag.

“Can we take one normal photo?” he complains and Minho, still laughing, moves back into the frame.

They end up taking a million weird selfies and not one in any way serious, but that’s fine with Minho. Jisung picks out one or a couple and sends them out, finally letting Minho start the car.

“Will you show me the creep shots?” he asks as he turns back into the highway. Jisung freezes for a moment, in the middle of putting his phone away. 

“Sure,” he answers, turning to grin at Minho. “Eventually.”

They stop at the next gas station anyway, to take a bathroom break. Jisung goes first and is already outside by the time Minho exits, so he takes the time to buy a chocolate bar.

Jisung is leaning against the car, staring down at his nails, the corners of his lips turned down. He looks a little gloomy, or maybe more wistful. The breeze has rustled his hair up into an almost quiff, and the building throws a dramatic shadow over his face, making the white shirt stand out even more in the bright sunrays. He kicks his foot out a little; a small habit Jisung had since the first day they met, and every time Minho sees the movement, it triggers the memories of those early days, when it was all so easy and they spent their summers climbing the trees growing by their old school.

Actually, Minho has gone back there, a couple days after Jisung dyed his hair. The trees still stood there, but they no longer seemed giant or unconquerable, and he easily got up to the very top. Despite his wobbly knees and racing heart, it was worth it. That’s when the image of their possible future became the clearest to Minho. Every fear he had trembled in the face of the height; unlike the tree that Minho could barely trust, whose branches could bend and break and send him tumbling down, his friendship with Jisung had withstood every test, so what could three more words or a new kind of touch between them change that the biggest fights and the passage of time didn’t?

And though Minho still had his doubts, though he still carries some anxiety in the pit of his stomach even now, the resolution was as solid in his head as the wood under his limbs. It’s just as real now, like the concrete under his feet as he runs towards Jisung and knocks their bodies together.

“Gotchu something,” Minho says, grinning, and Jisung’s eyes light up as he takes the chocolate.

“How did you know I was craving it?” he asks, laugh tinted with disbelief.

“I just did,” Minho shrugs as he walks around the car.

That’s just how they roll, he supposes.

“Horses, horses, horses, oh my god, Minho, look, there’s a baby!” Jisung chants, almost shouting, blindly batting a hand in Minho’s direction. His nose is glued to the window and Minho doesn’t need to see his face to know his eyes are as wide as they can be, taking in every detail they can catch.

“I am!” He laughs and catches Jisung’s flailing hand. “You’re a safety hazard and a half.”

“But horses,” Jisung whines, craning his neck as they pass the field.

It’s a little past six, according to Minho’s watch, and the random Queen song the CD has graced them this time is “Bicycle Race” which made Minho giggle a while back when they passed a cyclist.

“What do you think the “mix.” means?” Minho wonders out loud and Jisung turns to him. Minho’s fingers around his wrist are loose but he doesn’t pull his arm away, letting it rest between their seats. “Like, are there any more songs but they’re all after Queen, or is that the only thing on it?”

“Oh, you mean the CD,” Jisung laughs. “I dunno, didn’t you make it?”

“Definitely not me,” Minho shakes his head. 

“Well,” Jisung shrugs. “We could just skip a few and find out.”

“Nah,” Minho is quick to refuse before Jisung can reach for the player. “It’s more fun like this.”

“Whatever you say,” Jisung giggles and looks back out. The arm in Minho’s hold twitches. “Oh! Look! Cows! They have a baby too, oh my god!”

Minho bites his lip but the smile still breaks through. 

The sign by the road tells them they’re only forty or so kilometers away from their destination. Jisung makes the fact well known by shouting it at Minho, despite the fact he’d pointed the sign to Jisung himself.

Minho holds back a yawn and throws a glance at his watch. It’s almost seven, and they’ve got plenty of time till sundown.

“Coffee?” he offers to Jisung and he nods excitedly.

“We’re so close!” he exclaims and Minho laughs, taking the exit towards the city. It’s not the one they’ll be staying at, too busy and only with a couple beaches; their destination, actually, is just a small town where they’ll rent a room that boasts a view straight to the sea.

Still, they will definitely visit this city often too, especially since they’ve come just in time for the sea festival, as it’ll happen tomorrow. The preparations are happening as they drive further in, and they can see colourful banners being hung and streets, already closed, being decorated.

“Hey,” Minho nudges Jisung as they stop by a red light. He points to a billboard on a building. “Should we visit?”

It’s an ad from the sea museum, announcing a new collection.

“Uh, of course,” Jisung scoffs. “Maybe let’s use the old timey maps this time, though.”

Minho hisses at the GPS that sits innocently on his dashboard.

“I will throw you straight into hellfire,” he threatens the inanimate object and Jisung cackles.

They take their iced coffee to go and drink it leaning on the hood of the car. High above, seagulls are screeching and the air already weights differently in Minho’s lungs. 

He chose this cafe for a reason—there’s a river flowing right past it and he watches as Jisung gapes, the coffee in his hand forgotten, when the bridge right in front of them splits open.

“Have you never seen that?” Minho asks, not bothering to conceal the amusement.

Jisung shakes his head enthusiastically. “I’ve never been to this city,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“Really?” Minho raises an eyebrow and then grins with realisation. “So you’ve never been to the sea festival either?”

“Nope,” Jisung pulls the orange straw back into his mouth.

“Oh, you’ll have the time of your life,” Minho bumps their shoulders together. “I can promise.”

“Guess I’ll have to hold you to it,” Jisung answers and smiles when their eyes meet, taking a long sip from his cup.

Minho smiles back and drops his eyes down, suddenly far too aware of his speeding heart beat. The tips of their sneakers are touching; Minho pushes his foot against Jisung’s just a little harder and gets a small kick back. The air is still warm, the sun barely starting to hide behind trees and buildings and painting streets in long shadows, but there’s a cool breeze that keeps it light and Minho can only imagine it’s a hundred times better by the water. His heart skips five beats at the thought of what waits. 

“Let’s finish this,” he sighs, straightening his back, feeling the eagerness pool in his fingertips. Jisung falters for a moment, freezing as he stares at the pavement.

“Yeah,” he finally moves, letting go of the straw, a heavy indent where he bit it. “I guess we should.”

Minho’s surprised he manages to drive; he’s surprised even more that Jisung doesn’t comment on his restlessness, the way he can’t settle on a speed or keep his fingers still.

The CD player pauses for a couple moments the way it always does between songs and Minho prays for something rhythmic and fast so the tapping of his fingers could find some kind of pattern.

But the mix is unrelentingly cruel and instead “Can anybody find me somebody to love?” flows out from the speakers.

Minho spares a glance towards Jisung. He’s been quiet since they got into the car in the coffee shop parking lot, but “Somebody To Love” has always been the song he enjoyed belting out.

He doesn’t even react to it, head leaning on the closed window. Minho swallows and looks back at the road. The space between two towns is filled with forests but the shock from their earlier encounter has already settled and the sight of trees, though still uncomfortable, doesn’t make him all that uneasy.

Minho wonders for a moment if Jisung is the same and then calls out, tentatively.

“Jisung?”

He startles at that, turning his head towards Minho just a little.

“Yeah?” Jisung mumbles. He doesn’t look tired, his face instead an echo from the look at the last gas station stop. Wistful. Sad. 

Minho’s heart aches and he reaches out a hand, gently pressing just the tips of his fingers into Jisung’s thigh. He regrets the fact he has to keep his eyes on the road, he regrets not having anything sweet to offer Jisung, he hates that their natural connection doesn’t reach deep enough for him to know Jisung’s feelings without needing words.

Of course, he can make an educated guess that it’s connected to the end of their trip. But Jisung doesn’t seem keen to offer him more than that and Minho is still unaware of the bigger underlying reason.

He settles on asking: “Is everything okay?” though he knows he won’t get a substantial answer.

After all those years of friendship, Jisung still manages to surprise him.

“I really, really don’t want this to end,” he whispers and Minho snaps his hand to the player, not turning it off but just quieting it, so the words aren’t lost to the music.

“It won’t,” he answers, returning his palm back to Jisung’s thigh and rubbing the muscle. “This is just the beginning. And we could stay for as long as you want. The whole month, even. I’m sure you’d get homesick soon enough.”

“No,” Jisung groans and lolls his head back to the window, hitting it with a quiet thud. “Not the trip. Or… maybe the trip too.”

He looks frustrated, angrily biting down on his lip and Minho keeps his mouth shut, looks forward to the approaching town and waits for Jisung to work his thoughts out.

They’re driving past the main square, Minho trying hard to remember the directions he was given, when Jisung opens his mouth again.

“I don’t want to think about it right now,” he whispers and meets Minho’s gaze. 

Minho’s heart flutters, low in his abdomen where it had dropped from the first sight of Jisung being upset.

The evening feels amiss and off balance and Minho isn’t sure whether he should keep going the same path. But he doesn’t resent his best friend for the switch in his mood at all; it wouldn’t be fair, and Jisung’s allowed to have his own worries, his own carousel of emotions. Minho’s plans can wait a little; it doesn’t have to be the first night of the trip, never had to.

Besides, it already feels like he’s been on the verge of spilling for a lifetime, what’s a couple more days compared to that?

“We don’t have to go to the beach tonight,” Minho murmurs and turns into a street, relieved to see the house from the pictures right in front of him. “We could have a chill evening inside, get out early tomorrow.”

“As if I’m waking up early in summer,” Jisung scoffs and Minho is relieved at the sincere sound of his laugh. “And I promise, it really is fine. I’ll just... talk to you about it later.”

“Just like you’ll show me the photos?” Minho quirks a smile and turns to Jisung once he parks. Jisung rolls his eyes.

“A little earlier than those,” he says and Minho laughs.

He looks away, turns off the CD player, runs a hand through his hair when his eyes catch on the chipmunk keychain, still gently swaying under the mirror. Its black eyed gaze looks almost encouraging and Minho wonders for a moment if he’s going insane.

“Okay,” he turns to Jisung with a sigh. “If you pinky promise, then we can go to the beach.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow but agrees, lifting up a hand. 

“Pinky promise,” he says when Minho links their fingers together. Their eyes meet for barely a moment but Minho catches the yearning, flickering in the brown of Jisung’s iris. The rays of the sun, already turned orange, fall from behind the car, dying Jisung’s skin in bold stripes where the shadow doesn’t cover. The flowers get touched by them too, delicate and looking just as fresh as they did in that crack in the pavement, despite hours in a heated car. Jisung’s eyelashes, dark against his cheek, flutter just as the petals do as he struggles to not look at Minho again.

Minho doesn’t know whether that’s good or not, because right now, all the love that his young body can carry is surely concentrated on his face. He can feel its burn on his skin and from behind his eyes and on the roof of his mouth; like taking a sip of a too hot tea, a sharp sting at first and the tingly ache that follows.

If Jisung didn’t realise before, he without doubt would now. And Minho almost wants him to, he wants to see the realisation flood his expression, wants to take the cowardly route and drop his fancy idea of confessing as the sun sets all together.

Jisung doesn’t, however, lift his eyes, just smiles a little with trembling lips and climbs out of the car.

The landlord, a middle aged lady with bright red hair, is nice and pleasant and tries to talk to them, but Minho is too out of it to register most of the conversation. Their room has two beds, he notes a little sorrowfully, and then all of their bags are laying on the floor and they’re back in the car.

It seems like barely seconds have passed between now and the last time Minho sat behind the wheel, but the watch on his wrist and Jisung being both literally and figuratively on the edge of his seat are telling him otherwise.

“Seatbelt,” Minho reminds him, waits for the click with bated breath and then turns the key.

There’s a click that startles them both a little and the CD player comes alive.

Minho frowns and reaches to press the off button again.

Jisung’s voice reaches him before he can, softly doubling over the song. “This thing,” he sings, “called love,” and Minho puts his hand back on the wheel. “I just can’t handle it.”

Jisung has his head almost out the window and Minho lets him enjoy it for a couple minutes before tugging on his shirt.

“All of your body stays inside,” he warns, but it’s hard to even pretend to be mad when Jisung sticks his tongue out at him, eyes sparkling with joy again.

His moods seem to swing just like the chipmunk under the rear-view mirror. Minho supposes it’s fine as long as he ends up back on happy often enough.

They park near a sparse pine tree forest, and Minho leans back into the chair, taking a deep breath.

The beach is right there, sand spilling over onto the wooden path, golden sun escaping from between trunks. Jisung climbs out first and Minho expects him to already be halfway there, towards the water, but when he opens the door, a stretched out hand waits, palm side up, open and inviting.

Minho trails his eyes up the arm to Jisung’s face, the frown slipping off his face when he finds Jisung’s hopeful smile.

“So you don’t get lost,” he says and Minho scoffs, grabbing the offered hand.

“It’s so you don’t,” he retaliates and barely has time to throw a small bag over his shoulder before Jisung is pulling him forward.

The beach is absolutely empty, only a couple of people in the sand dunes, but that’s not where they’re headed anyway.

Minho bemoans over having to carry his shoes, but Jisung grabs his free hand as soon as he can, intertwining their fingers, and the complaint dies in his throat. He lets Jisung set the pace and they both sprint until the cool sand under their bare feet turns damp. They drop their shoes and Minho’s bag there and Jisung leaves Minho for a moment while he rolls up his jeans.

“It’s so cold!” Jisung screams and Minho lifts his head to find him jumping around the edge of the waves, laughter coming out squeaky and choked up. The blue sea seems endless behind him, waves rising high and crashing loud and foamy, shimmering in the sun as it hovers above horizon, Jisung’s silhouette stark against hues of orange and pink.

“On second thought,” Minho hums and takes a step back. Jisung laughs even harder and runs up to grab both of his hands. The breeze is much colder than it was in the city, and Jisung’s skin is hot against Minho’s.

“No, no, if one suffers, so does the other,” his eyes glint with mischief. Minho’s vigorous headshake isn’t enough to stop Jisung from pulling him closer and closer to the water.

“Who said that?” Minho exclaims in despair as his feet sink deeper in the cool, wet sand, sending shivers up his spine.

“You did!” Jisung cackles. “Don’t you remember? We made a long-ass oath and everything, back in fourth grade. Would have sealed it with blood if my mom hadn’t walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” Minho has vague memories of that day but Jisung’s mother’s scandalized face is still clear in his mind. “She even called my parents.”

“Gave me an hour long lecture,” Jisung groans. Minho chuckles.

Jisung takes advantage of Minho’s wandering thoughts and swings him straight into the sea. Minho gasps, stumbling, and he’d have fallen face first if Jisung didn’t grab his waist, steadying him. The waves rush high between Minho’s bare calves and a shiver passes over his body, so strong it goes straight to his teeth.

“You’re the worst,” Minho cries out and Jisung giggles, leaning forward till his forehead is against the nape of his neck, the warm exhale slipping past the collar of Minho’s shirt. The hands on his waist slide further, wrapping him in a tight hug and Minho instinctively places his fingers on Jisung’s wrists. The mood shifts, quick just like the water flowing back into the sea and the chuckle dies in Minho’s throat.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Jisung whispers. His voice, dripping with fear, blends with the roar of the waves almost perfectly, but it’s so familiar to Minho, he’s able to easily isolate it. “I mean, I will always be proud of you, all I could ever want is for you to be happy, but…” 

“I’m— I’m not leaving?” Minho asks, furrowing his brows in confusion. He wants to turn around but Jisung just holds on tighter. “I’m going to the uni in our hometown.”

Jisung goes rigid and Minho can almost feel the flutter of his eyelashes over his skin. He wraps his fingers around Jisung’s hands.

“You’re not?” Jisung asks, doubt overtaking his voice.

Minho shakes his head and tightens his fingers for a moment; there’s a bitten off laugh stuck deep in his throat as he watches the waves pull the sun down, tugging it lower and lower into the waters.

“I could never leave you,” he says, voice dipping into a barely audible whisper.

Minho feels the deep breath Jisung takes more than he hears it. The arms, wrapped around him, are almost shaking.

“Good,” Jisung murmurs. “Good. Because I don’t think I could let you go.”

Minho makes a decision and then puts up a fight; past his own beating heart to take a breath first and then against Jisung’s firm hold, until they’re standing nose to nose. Jisung’s arms stay loosely around Minho and he can see him swallow.

Minho’s hands come up to rest on Jisung’s shoulders. He spares half a glance to their intertwined shadows in the sand behind Jisung and takes another shaky breath.

“Minho?” Jisung drags his attention back to his worried eyes. Minho wonders if he’s just imagining the hope deep inside them. Suddenly, everything he was so sure of seems blurry and undefined. Unstable, like running on sand.

The setting sun catches one of Jisung’s shoulders and the side of his cheek. The air is salty and fresh but Minho can still catch whiffs of grapes. He can almost hear the ticking of the clock; maybe this is what it’s been counting down to.

“I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want, if it’s too much,” he starts, a little too hurriedly, has to clear his throat, all the while Jisung watches him with careful eyes. The water ebbs and flows around their feet, no longer stinging with cold. “So, feel free to stop me at any moment,” Minho continues. “But I’ve been waiting for so long to tell you just how much you mean to me. And… I know, I’ve known for a while now, that you must feel like that too,” Jisung shudders at his words, eyes widening just a bit and Minho smiles at him reassuringly. 

“It just never seemed like a perfect time to bring it up. To be honest,” Minho breathes an almost laugh. “It doesn’t feel perfect now either, but I figure I have kept you waiting long enough, haven’t I?”

The only answer Minho gets is a quick flutter of Jisung’s eyelashes, a tightening of the arms around him, a quiver of his lips.

Minho closes his eyes for a moment and finally gives in to the yearning behind his skin.

“I could never leave you. I love you,” he whispers, their lips moments apart. Minho opens his eyes to Jisung’s closed ones, wetness clinging to his dark brown eyelashes. “I’m sorry. I love you,” Minho repeats, just a little louder; his tongue stumbling over these words he was never brave enough to say so loudly. “Can I kiss you?”

Jisung leans the last inch forward and time stumbles, forgetting to move on.

His lips are somehow even softer than they look, and they take no prisoners. Jisung brings one hand up to hold Minho’s head steady, presses their chests together. Minho lets him take the lead, relaxes as the constant ache in his heart finally subsides. 

He still feels like an overflowing cup full of love, but maybe that’s just his natural state now.

Minho’s still dimly aware of the crashing waves around them and the stray droplets that reach his otherwise dry skin. The air still tastes of salt but he can only feel Jisung’s sweetness. The heat of the sun fades from his skin as it sets lower and lower, and so Minho pulls back. 

They’ve stumbled a bit with the kiss and Minho can see the last sun rays play on Jisung’s face. He looks like he’s glowing from inside.

“Why are you sorry?” Jisung asks. “I love you too,” he continues, and the words come so naturally to him, as if he’d practiced them a million times.

“For making you wait so long,” Minho answers and Jisung smiles a little, leaning back in.

“I could have spent a million years waiting,” he murmurs and puts the words inside Minho’s mouth as well. “As long as you were by my side.”

They lay down the grey towel on the dry sand and watch the colours of the sky slowly fade one into another and darken, a comfortable silence between them. Minho keeps Jisung’s hand on his lap, running his fingers over the soft skin. Jisung leans his head on his shoulder and the tips of his hair tickles Minho’s neck, but he doesn’t mind.

His heart seems to have found a new rhythm to follow, just a little faster than before and Minho wonders if Jisung’s matches his. He turns his head to press a soft kiss into Jisung’s hair, then wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in even closer. 

The seagulls screech and the sea roars and the breeze carries the last remnants of the heat away from their skin. Jisung’s hand is heavy in Minho’s, and they swing them slowly on their way back to the car. They leave the sunken sun behind, asleep on the seafloor.

Minho kisses Jisung again and again, now that he can; on his cheeks and his nose, against the car and then again inside it, promising himself it’s just one more and then he’ll get to driving, but then Jisung cups his cheeks and he gives in again.

“C’mon, we have to get going,” Minho sighs, but keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“Okay,” Jisung answers. Neither of them move for a moment longer and Minho sighs again, gives Jisung one last kiss and then keeps his words.

Jisung fiddles with the CD player while Minho turns the car around. They both freeze when the song starts and then Jisung breaks, laughing as he turns up the volume.

“Guess now we know what comes after Queen, huh?” he asks. Minho snorts.

“Took it long enough,” he says and Jisung leans over to poke his shoulder.

“Oh, look who’s speaking!”

Minho bats his hand away. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” he scoffs. “You’ll just use my heartfelt words against me, won’t you?”

“I’m the only one who has the right to,” Jisung sticks his tongue out and giggles.

Before Minho can retaliate more, Jisung starts belting almost straight into his ear. He rolls his eyes and plays annoyed, but by the time the chorus rolls around, Minho’s joining in as well.

“I love you, baby,” they shout more than they sing, the windows rolling down all the way. 

It must echo down the darkened streets, against the purple sky and yellow streetlights and the half asleep houses, but neither of them cares. 

The wind rushes inside the car, rustles the forget-me-nots and makes the chipmunk keychain spin, ruffles their matching hair and sweeps Jisung’s warm exhales from Minho’s skin, but it can’t take away the soft press of lips against skin, can’t cool the burning of love under Minho’s skin. 

He doesn’t wish for time to stop again; doesn’t need to, when everything that he’s been waiting for is right behind a corner.