more than enough ; minsung

han jisung did not keep it together

After ten minutes weeping in a bathroom stall, Jisung's tears run dry. He's sitting with the lid down — several layers of toilet paper as insurance — and staring at the tiled floor with his face in his hands. His lips taste like salt.

He's the picture of success right now.

He just wants to go home. He doesn't even know what he came here to do. Torture himself? Torture Sangkyu? Prove himself to someone who doesn't care whether he lives or dies?

Maybe he got caught up in Minho's enthusiasm, in his ease. The promise of spending more time with him.

Jisung never should have gotten Minho involved. He should have ripped up the invitation as soon as he got it. He should have done a lot of things. Now he has tear stains on his suit. His brand new suit.

He hears the bathroom door open, and then a pair of shoes stop outside his stall. Shiny shoes with little silver buckles.

"That you?" Minho murmurs.

"Yeah."

"Hiding out?"

"I guess."

"You okay?"

"Not really."

"What can I do?"

"I don't know."

"This conversation is extremely vague."

Jisung scrubs his face. He thought he had run out of tears. "I'm really sorry, Minho."

"Can you just come out? Or let me in? Something?"

Jisung sighs and unlocks the door. Minho opens it, closes it behind himself, and looks Jisung up and down. His eyebrows raise.

"I know," Jisung groans. "I'm a fucking disaster."

"No, you're not. I just wish you would have come to save me — I was on my own out there. Some second-cousin-twice-removed actually asked about the BMW, I mean, fuck me in the ear."

Jisung laughs. It wobbles out his mouth.

"What happened out there?" Minho asks.

"I don't know. Feelings. Sad ones."

"Hit all at once, didn't it? Seeing them up there?"

"Yeah."

Minho leans back against the stall door, hands in his pockets. "You're still in love with him."

"No."

"No?"

"I wasn't ever... in love with him, really. I loved him. You know, enough."

"Okay. Then..."

"Then why am I so fucked up?"

Minho shrugs.

"He told me once... he didn't want to marry anyone. Ever. He didn't 'believe' in marriage."

"You would've married him? Even though you weren't in love with him?"

"I... I thought it would've worked. We could've made it work. But he's marrying some other guy now, so obviously he just didn't want to marry me." Jisung swallows something hard and sad, dragging his hands through his hair. "I guess I'm just fucking un-marry-able."

Minho snorts.

"Don't laugh."

"Sorry."

"It's a valid concern."

"No, it's really not."

"Then why aren't I married yet?"

"Why aren't I married yet?"

Because your exes must be idiots. "I don't know?"

"Because it just hasn't happened yet. For either of us."

"Do you want to get married?"

"Whoa whoa, let me see the ring first."

"Y-you know what I mean."

Minho smiles. "Someday maybe, with the right person. I think it'd be nice to know there would always be someone waiting for you at home."

Jisung nods slowly. "Yeah. I get that."

A beat of silence.

"So," Minho says. "Are you coming out or what?"

He groans. "I don't want to. I've been gone too long."

"If anyone asks, we'll just say you have a UTI."

"Minho, I swear to God."

He laughs and takes Jisung's hands, pulling him up off the toilet. "C'mon, you look too hot in that suit to give up."

"You can't be serious."

"I am serious. You're always going to wonder if you jump ship now. Besides, I saw the cake and I'm not leaving without getting a piece — a generous one."

Jisung groans again, though it's closer to a whine. He's about to admit defeat when the bathroom door opens again. They both freeze, eyes locked. The footsteps approach, stall outside their door, and then scuttle back out in a hurry.

The door slams shut, and Minho and Jisung descend into laughter, faces burning red.