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“But once in a while the odd thing happens,
Once in a while the dream comes true,
And the whole pattern of life is altered,
Once in a while the moon turns blue.
—W.H Auden
***
Minho’s new roommate is a strange little creature.
Strange in many, many ways. Not the same kind of strangeness as Minho but strange enough to endear himself to everyone around him at an alarming speed, Minho included. It barely took any time for the guy to squirrel his way into Minho’s jagged edged affections. Minho’s own brand of weird is either off putting or a fun story to tell at a party. It toes the line between neurodivergent spiciness and keeping a knife under your pillow just in case. People don’t really know what to do with him and that’s how Minho likes to keep it.
He’s not mysterious, he’s autistic. People have yet to catch that nuance.
Whatever.
Han Jisung, on the other hand, is a coiled little ball of anxiety and cockiness. He’s either the most energetic person in the room or he’s about to fall asleep in the middle of a sentence and there’s no in between. He saunters into places like he knows he’ll own them some day but then he hides behind his best friend Chan like he’s afraid people might actually talk to him.
He’s a funny little thing, Han Jisung, and Minho likes him quite a bit. Even if he’s pretty sure the guy is also a little homophobic. Nothing actually harmful, just… Minho gets this vibe about him; like when a family member sees two guys kissing in a TV show and their face shutters. It’s not outward and it is never discussed but there’s something there that makes Minho squint his eyes and wonder.
It’s even more surprising because Jisung is surrounded by queer people. Minho, his roommate of six months now, is a raging homosexual. Chan and Changbin, Jisung’s best friends and coworkers, have been a couple for… well, Minho thinks they’ve always been together. Felix and Hyunjin, two of Jisung's same year buddies have been together for a couple of years now. And let’s not even discuss whatever is happening with Seungmin. Minho is pretty sure he’s rage-baiting Chan and Changbin into becoming their third.
Jeongin is ace and refuses to even engage with straight people at all.
All of this to say that Minho is surprised, if not lightly amused, by the clear emotional journey Jisung goes through every time Minho either brings home a dude or informs Jisung that he has a date. It’s not outward disgust and it’s not reproach, it’s something else entirely and Minho isn’t quite sure what’s going on.
Shame really, because Jisung is Minho’s type to a T and he would have loved to destroy a few horizontal surfaces in their shared apartment. His big brown eyes, his heart-shaped smiles, and his utter lack of spatial awareness have charmed Minho beyond reason. It’s been a while since Minho got his head so turned by a pretty boy but here he is nonetheless; utterly besotted.
It’s particularly annoying to like -like a straight boy but somehow Jisung makes that offending trait almost endearing.
It doesn’t help that, past the initial awkwardness of living with a virtual stranger, they fell into each other like long lost soulmates. Minho loves taking care of people and Jisung loves to be taken care of, and it’s never been as easy, as natural to take care of someone as it has with Jisung.
They fit quite well together considering the fact that Minho is a gay guy with an insatiable sexual appetite and Jisung is a possibly homophobic straight dude who can barely talk to a woman without passing out. They watch horror movies together, with Jisung's entire body curled tight against Minho’s; his head hidden in Minho’s neck and whimpering the most outrageous sounds. They enjoy going out to eat together, so much so that Jisung has started a sort of culinary map of all the best places in Seoul to eat and it’s become a reference for their friend group. They share a passion for music through their work, resulting in Jisung visiting Minho at the dance studio almost weekly and Minho dropping by the 3racha studio just as much.
It was almost like stepping into his childhood bedroom, getting to know Jisung. They fell into each other like they were always meant to, which makes Jisung’s… weirdness around Minho’s sexuality all the more strange.
But it’s there, Minho isn’t making it up; he’s sure of it. At first, he really thought he was imagining the side-eyes and the pursed lips and the stiffness of Jisung’s shoulders but it’s been months now and the pattern hasn’t changed. Jisung is a terrible liar, his face is a canvas for all of his emotions and he paints them in bold fucking colours. And Jisung’s face whenever Minho mentions his love life? Fucking red. Not in the literal sense but rather the emotional sense.
It bothers Jisung that Minho is banging dudes and Minho can’t pinpoint why.
He asked him once, after a few weeks of cohabitation, after Jisung had completely shut down when Minho told him he’d be bringing someone home tonight.
“You have a problem with it?”
Jisung looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “With what? You dating dudes?”
“Yeah,” Minho replied, something murky and mean bubbling in his chest. He could deal with homophobes but he wasn’t sure he could live with one.
“Of course not,” Jisung said but his response came slowly. “Why would I care?” He added, his tone strange.
Minho wasn’t convinced but he shrugged off the interaction. He could only take Jisung’s words at face value and hope for the best. He’d gone through too many shitty roommates to jeopardise what had started to look like the perfect cohabitation.
That was almost six months ago and while Minho and Jisung are truly on their way to forging an unbreakable friendship, Jisung is still shit at hiding the fact that Minho’s sexuality bothers him on some level. It’s… Truthfully, it’s whatever . For all Minho knows, Jisung is going through a personal journey that will lead to enlightenment at the end. Who is he to stop heterosexual men from achieving openness of mind?
“Going out?” Jisung asks the day everything changes. He’s leaning against Minho’s door frame, watching as Minho puts on one of his date shirts and his tightest jeans.
Minho turns to him as he buttons his shirt and quirks an eyebrow. “Some of us have love lives to explore.”
Jisung manages to scowl and pout at the same time. What a tragedy that someone who looks made to bottom was made to be straight.
“I go out!”
“Jagi, locking yourself in the studio until the wee hours of the night and then coming home to jerk it to heintai isn’t going out,” Minho teases only to watch Jisung turn bright red and avert his eyes. God, Minho would chew on him given half the chance. “I’m just joking, Jisung-ah. I’m going to a bar to meet up with some of my dance friends.”
Jisung flicks his mousy gaze to him and says, “but you’re wearing one of your date shirts.” He blushes when Minho smirks. “What, you have patterns and I’m very observant.”
Minho continues getting ready as they talk. Shirt buttoned, belt notched up and now it’s time for cologne. He sprays Fleur D’Oranger 27 (an expensive gift from his ex who was a shitty person but had exceptional tastes) on his wrist before rubbing the scent on the sides of his neck. Jisung is watching all of this happen with a sort of intensity that itches right under Minho’s skin. Breathing through the urge to back him into a wall and kiss Jisung breathless, Minho offers a crooked smile.
“You should still come, meet new people, make new friends. I think Hyunjin said he’ll drop by.”
“I don’t need new friends, the ones I have take up enough of my energy.” Jisung’s fond grin belies his words.
“And poor Jisungie has so little energy to spare,” Minho teases again, making Jisung giggle.
“Baby only needs sleep and food.” Minho hums as he checks his hair in the mirror. “You look good,” Jisung says after a moment, voice hushed. Minho’s eyes fly to him. “Hyung always looks good.”
Minho’s smile comes slowly and he’s sure it looks all sorts of arrogant and mischievous but really, his heart did a backflip hearing that compliment from those lips. “Thank you, Hannie.”
He almost learned to live with the way Jisung made his tummy swoop but there are moments when it’s hard to forget nothing will ever happen between them. Butterflies are such a strange thing to deal with at the ripe age of twenty-six, yet here Minho stands, tiny wings flapping at the sight of the shy smile playing on his straight roommate’s lips.
Ears hot, Minho returns his gaze to the mirror and, satisfied with what he sees there, he starts to head out of his room. On the threshold, Jisung shifts, back plastered to the door frame as he looks at Minho through his lashes. Minho smiles at him and tickles his chin, and tries not to linger on the fact that Jisung smells like the both of them, that he’s wearing Minho’s hoodie or that he looks particularly sweet with his glasses perched on the tip of his cute nose.
It’s a constant battle to resist Jisung’s appeal and the worst part is that the younger man doesn’t even seem to notice the havoc he wreaks on Minho’s life simply by existing.
“Hyung?”
“Hm?”
Jisung looks at him, eyes searching and beseeching. A question in them that Minho doesn’t quite hear or can’t understand. He frowns. “Everything okay?”
Jisung licks his bottom lip, a swift stroke of his tongue that has Minho’s gut clenching, and shakes his head. “Yeah.” He looks down at his socked feet and shakes his head again. “Yeah,” he sighs, looking up. “Forget it. Have a great night.”
Minho tilts his head and, after only a slight hesitation, cups the underside of Jisung’s jaw and pulls his face up. “I could stay home, if you want,” he offers without an ounce of remorse. His friends and his possible hookup can do without him. If Jisung needs company, Minho will gladly provide.
Jisung smiles at him but it’s a mere shadow of the real thing. “Don’t be silly, Hyung,” Jisung says as he shakes off Minho’s hold. “You look too nice to stay in.” The smile he gives then is a little bit realer, shines just a little brighter. Minho settles back into himself and nods.
“Okay. There’s food in the fridge but don’t watch any new episodes of One Piece without me,” he points a finger at his face and Jisung rolls his eyes before patting it away.
“Whatever,” he gripes but follows Minho down the hallway and to their small entryway where Minho slides into his brown suede chelsea boots and his bomber jacket. Jisung watches him do it in silence, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“You sure, you’re okay?” Minho can’t help but ask again even though he hates to nag. It’s just that Jisung isn’t usually one to ponder out loud. He either yaps away until he talks his way into the solution to whatever’s plaguing him or he lets his thoughts consume him until he has no choice but to face the issue in question.
To see him so… nervous without expressing it is throwing Minho for a loop.
Jisung’s face drops a little before a certain determination settles over it. “Hyung, have you ever been confused?”
Minho can’t help the amused curl of his mouth. “By life? Every other hour, baby.”
Jisung snorts before saying. “Yeah, but also like… by yourself, you own mind?”
Minho frowns slightly. “Elaborate.”
Jisung huffs and fidgets for a moment, before he squares his shoulders and grabs Minho’s hand. “You can be a bit late, right? Won’t be the end of the world,” he says, more likely talking to himself than Minho. Without looking back, Jisung marches out of the entryway and leads him to the living room where he gently nudges Minho to sit on the sofa before he starts pacing the length of the living room.
He looks at Minho apprehensively, making his knuckles crack as he walks back and forth in front of Minho.
“You’re gonna give me whiplash,” Minho says.
Jisung huffs. “This isn't easy, Hyung,”
Minho takes off his jacket and shoes, pushing them both aside, and relaxes back against the couch. “Take your time.”
Jisung makes a frustrated noise, hand fisting in his hair. “Wish you’d kept the jacket on,” he grunts. A quick look over Minho's body preceding a whine. "Fuck, your arms and your thighs!"
Minho is utterly lost. “Okaaaay... What’s going on?”
Jisung huffs a rather aggressive sigh before coming to a stop and facing him. “Have you ever questioned who you were, like, as a person?”
Minho wants to joke again and maybe laugh but Jisung looks genuinely distraught so Minho takes the word in and tries to give an earnest answer. “I mean,” he shrugs. “Don’t we all? Isn’t this what being a human being is all about? Growing older is just like buying a very old, very strange house, right? Every other month, you discover a new room or a flight of stairs and you have to go explore where they lead.”
Jisung’s face softens. He comes to kneel in front of Minho, takes off his glasses and puts them on the coffee table before leaning his forehead on Minho’s thigh. Minho stops breathing. Then, after a shaky, uncertain moment, he understands the gesture for what it is; a plea for comfort. So, with trembling hands, his mind finally catching up to the seriousness of the situation, Minho cards his fingers through Jisung’s thick hair.
“Some rooms are big and airy and fun, some are dark and messy and frightening. Some stairs creak like the ghosts of older generations and some make you stumble. There will be rooms you don’t even want to explore but you don’t really have a choice. It’s either lie to the world and yourself or find a way to be happy but you can’t have both.”
Jisung lets out a noise that Minho has never heard before. He continues to stroke his hand through the soft curls. Jisung melts into the touch and sighs out something sweet yet heavy.
“But what if you made yourself at home in one of the rooms?” His voice is small when he finally speaks and Minho craves to gather him fully into his arms and keep him safe. “What if you thought this was the most comfortable and best room in the house and then one day, someone else enters the house and you feel like that room is suddenly too small?” He looks up, chin digging in Minho’s knee; his pretty eyes wet and pleading. “What if,” he clears his throat with difficulty, searching for the right words without once looking away from Minho. “What if you suddenly can’t breathe in your old room but you also can’t breathe whenever you’re with this new person?”
Minho’s heart squeezes in his chest but he ignores it, ignores the silly hope bursting in his chest as he leans forward and brushes Jisung’s bangs aside. “What kind of breathlessness is it, Jisung-ah? There’s a difference, right?”
Jisung nods. “One of them is suffocating and the other is like… like that belly swoop in a rollercoaster just before the ride dips down. That one moment when you are airborne and you think you’re going to take flight.”
Minho smiles softly. “I don’t go on rollercoaster rides, I’m deeply afraid of heights.”
Jisung grins back, eyes molten. “Me too. But I still go with Chanie-hyung because he loves them so much.”
They stare at each for a moment until Minho realises he’s all but cupping Jisung’s face, his thumb stoking his cheek, their faces mere inches apart. He breaks the moment by leaning away, but not too far. He doesn’t want Jisung to take distance for rejection or disinterest. Whatever’s plaguing him, he trusts Minho enough to invite him in and Minho won’t do anything to jeopardise that.
“You know you have all the time in the world, right? There’s no actual time limit on these things. Life would be morbidly boring if we had everything figured out by the time we turn twenty.”
The words seem to wreck Jisung. His face crumbles, as his bottom lip trembles. “But what happens to the past version of me? What happens to my old room now? What happens to all the rooms that will now disappear?”
Minho’s heart breaks a little but he keeps his tone gentle and his voice steady.
“We carry every version of ourselves wherever we go. You’ll still love cheesecake, you’ll still want to watch Howl’s Moving Castle even if you just watched it yesterday. You’ll still be a musician. You’ll still look the way you do. You’ll still be you .”
Jisung swallows. “Not really though. I don’t even seem to know myself as well as I thought.”
“That’s not such a bad thing, Hannie.”
Jisung turns his face away and rubs his fist under his eyes. He sniffles and asks, “how so?”
“You’re lovely, Jisung-ah,” Minho lets too much tenderness slip into his tone but he doesn’t waver when Jisung snaps his head back to him. “You’re a good, kind, considerate, and intelligent person. I don’t think any new room you’ll discover will change that. As for the rooms that are now inaccessible, it’s okay to be sad about having to close them forever. Whatever it is that you need to grieve to become a new version of yourself, a happier you, that’s okay.”
Jisung nods quickly and Minho looks away, giving him privacy as he wipes more tears.
“Have you ever had to close doors?” Jisung eventually asks, his voice shaky and wet with more unshed tears. His gaze is almost imploring when he turns it back on Minho.
In answer, he gives a humourless laugh. “Many, yeah, but I don’t regret it. There are so many things I had to give up or that I had to try, for myself, you know? Like when I decided to really pursue dance. When I failed all my auditions for entertainment companies. When I broke up with my first serious boyfriend. When I walked away from bad friendships… these are all rooms with closed doors that never really disappear but I also don’t necessarily feel the need to go check on them, you know?” Jisung’s eyes clear and he smiles gently up at Minho. He brings a hand to Minho’s and holds it. Minho watches the way they fit, the tan of Jisung’s skin against the paleness of his. Jisung’s slightly crooked, yet longer fingers intertwined with Minho’s shorter and thicker ones.
He likes it.
He likes them like this.
He likes this bizarre conversation that seems to cut him open but makes his heart flutter. He continues, gathering words that he never really said to anyone.
“Or when I came out to my parents,” Minho ventures tentatively, locking eyes with Jisung who seems to have stopped breathing. “They were supportive and kind to me but there were a few weeks, even months where we all had to adjust to this new reality. I had to let go of the guilt I carried for not being the son my parents wanted me to be and they had to let go of the future I could no longer give them.”
Jisung gulps. “Do you regret it?”
“You mean do I miss the straight version of myself?” Jisung nods, eyes shining with a galaxy of unbridled emotions. He really is so lovely. “I can’t regret a version of me that never really existed you know? I can only heal from a world that made me feel shame and fright for being who I am.”
Jisung’s face goes through another series of emotions before he lays his cheek back on Minho’s thigh. “Have you healed?”
Minho smiles down at him, patting his head. “It’s an uphill battle but some days are better than others. You wanna know a very poorly hidden secret?” Jisung nods, his puffed up and red cheek rubbing against Minho’s jean-clad thigh. “The world is only as scary as you let it be. The more steps you take into it as yourself, the easier it gets.”
“Fuck everyone else?” Jisung tries.
“Basically, yeah. And you’re not… wrong for taking your time with it. It’s your life, your journey. I won't say you only owe happiness to yourself, because that's not true. But you still owe yourself happiness. A fair amount of it.”
“But isn’t it… lonely?”
Minho’s hand freezes in Jisung’s hair. “Yeah, sometimes. But there are always people who will feel at home in your house, you know? There are doors that are meant to be opened so that you can invite others in.”
Jisung melts against him, still softly rubbing his cheek against Minho but he seems less tense, less scared. They breathe together for a long time, one of Minho’s hands in Jisung’s hair and the other held tightly by Jisung. Heavy as the words have been, Minho feels somehow lighter for having said them.
“Sorry for having a meltdown on your fuck-me-jeans.”
Minho bursts out laughing. Jisung looks up, shit-eating grin on his pretty face.
“I do the fucking, honey,” Minho grins lecherously.
Jisung, predictably blushes but just as predictably, he doesn’t look away. Always that odd balance between shyness and confidence that is so incredibly enchanting.
“These are still fuck-me-jeans,” he grins up at Minho, without shame.
Minho can’t really deny that. “Feeling better?”
“Getting there,” Jisung answers, his smile softening. His gaze turns shy and hesitant again before he asks, “there’s just one more thing.”
“Sure, jagi. What is it?”
Jisung takes a deep breath and locks it in, his mouth trembling as he lets out the frail question.
“Can I kiss you?”
Minho’s mouth falls open as his heart turns over in his chest.
“What?”
Jisung squeezes his hand and his eyes turn pleading. “Six months ago, I was straight. I went on dates with women, I enjoyed sex with them and I never really thought about men that way,” he exhales out a long breath and licks his lips. “Then, I moved in here with you and you…,” he shakes his head and laughs, bemused. “You infiltrated all of my thoughts. Hyung ,” he says urgently, straightening his position and kneeling up, bringing himself closer to Minho whose brain has yet to reboot. “Hyung, you are so, so beautiful. S-so h-hot. Fuck , this is so hard. I’ve never found other men hot, not like I find you hot. It’s driving me crazy.”
“What?” Minho says again. “I thought you were a homophobe,” is the next stupid thing to leave his mouth.
Jisung frowns. “Me? Are you insane? I am the token straight guy in a group of flaming queers.”
“Nothing straight about this,” Minho gestures between them.
“Yeah, well. I’m getting there, aren’t I?” He scowls. “You really thought I was homophobic? What the fuck, Hyung,” he grouches, slapping Minho’s arm with his free hand.
“In my defence, you acted all weird whenever I talked about my dating life.”
Jisung’s face clears before he blushes bright red. Embarrassment and shame fight timidity for a spotlight on on his face.
“I, uh… Yeah, about that. So I was acting weird but only because I felt weird every time you talked about other guys. I couldn’t fucking explain why I hated it so much. It never happened to me before. All my friends date and I’d never felt such… distaste for it. It was freaking me out. I tried to be cool about it but I guess I failed. I’m really sorry… Why are you smiling? Stop! Stop laughing!”
Minho clutches his belly as he giggles wildly. “You were… You were jealous , Hannie!”
Jisung huffs. “Can you not be so happy about my existential crisis?”
“Come here, you idiot,” Minho laughs, pulling until Jisung scrambles up and straddles his lap.
Time stills. Minho’s heart races as his thoughts quiet down. There’s something ethereal about this boy’s beauty, something sweet that sticks to Minho’s throat and chest, like honey sticks to fingers. Jisung looks at him with his pretty eyes that seem to hold all the secrets of the universe, settling a hand on Minho’s nape and suddenly, it’s not so funny anymore.
“Yes,” Minho breathes.
Jisung swallows harshly as he settles more comfortably on his lap. His eyelashes flutter as Minho cups his hips and holds him down.
“Yes what?”
“You can kiss me, Jisung-ah. I’ve only been waiting for it from the moment I met you,” he confesses. A bruise for a bruise, right? Jisung shows him the underside of his heart, it’s only fair that Minho does the same.
Jisung’s smile could light up the entirety of Seoul. “A new room?”
Minho takes hold of his face, fingers quivering, and relishes the way Jisung leans into the touch. He’s so cat-like, this boy. So gentle and deserving of care. Made to be loved and caressed.
“Let’s open the door together,” Minho whispers before bringing Jisung in for a sweet kiss.
The first of many, many kisses.
The first of many, many doors they’ll open together.
F I N