Drunk confessions

Minho wasn't entirely surprised when Jisung stumbled through the door that night, his cheeks already flushed from whatever little alcohol he'd had. But there was something different about the way Jisung was that night. He wasn't his usual, overly giggly, touchy self. Instead, he looked... defeated, his usual playful spark replaced with a frustrated tension. Minho watched him as he wandered over and dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, his body slumping beside Minho's.

"Jisung, you look ridiculous," Minho teased, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly. He knew how to coax a laugh out of Jisung, usually with a simple poke or prod, but tonight was different. Jisung didn't laugh. Instead, he looked at Minho, his gaze lingering, half-faded yet intense, his brows knitting together in frustration.

"You don't get it," Jisung muttered, his voice low, almost angry. He buried his face in his hands, mumbling to himself, "Nobody gets it..."

Minho tilted his head, intrigued. "What are you even talking about?"

Jisung sat back, letting his hands fall to his sides, his fingers curling and uncurling as he tried to find the right words. "You! I mean, I can't... I don't know why it's so... difficult!" He huffed, frustration coloring his words, mixing with the faint slur in his voice from the alcohol. He looked up at Minho with a pained expression that tugged unexpectedly at Minho's heart. "It's like... you're right here but also... like miles away."

Minho's smirk softened as he watched Jisung struggle, his usual mischief subdued by the weight of Jisung's mood. He felt something stir inside him-a quiet, unspoken urge to close the distance between them. But he held back, playing it safe. "What's gotten into you tonight?"

"Nothing," Jisung snapped, his frustration bubbling up again. He kicked the leg of the coffee table, barely making a sound, but his face twisted in a mixture of anger and something else Minho couldn't quite identify. "It's just... I try, you know? I try to tell you things, and... and you just look at me like I'm some... some joke."

Minho's eyebrows knitted together. He couldn't tell if Jisung was upset at him, or at something else entirely. Part of him wanted to brush it off, chalk it up to the alcohol, but another part-one that he usually tried to ignore-kept him rooted in place, listening carefully.

"Who's treating you like a joke?" Minho asked, his voice softer, more genuine. "Is it... about us?" The words slipped out before he could stop himself.

Jisung's head jerked up, his eyes widening as he processed Minho's question. For a moment, he looked caught, like a deer in headlights, before his face crumpled, a mixture of relief and frustration pouring over him.

"Maybe it is!" he said, his voice wavering. "Or maybe... maybe I'm just a coward. Or maybe I'm stupid, and you're just... too... too..." He stopped, looking like he was searching for a word, his face twisting in frustration again. "You're too close and too far away at the same time, and it's messing with my head!"

Minho's heart skipped a beat, the weight of Jisung's words hanging in the air. He could feel something shifting between them, a tension he couldn't quite put a name to but had felt for a long time. Yet, instead of facing it, he did what he always did-he turned to teasing.

"Well," he said, reaching over and pulling a few brightly colored hair clips from the drawer nearby, "maybe you'll feel better with a new look."

He started placing the clips in Jisung's hair, one by one, as if they could somehow lighten the moment. Jisung barely noticed, lost in his own world of frustration, his lips forming a pout that would've looked cute if he wasn't so visibly upset. Minho took his phone out, snapping a few photos of Jisung's flustered, pouty face, but his usual amusement felt hollow. It was a distraction, something to keep his own heart from racing out of control.

Jisung, noticing the clips now, groaned in frustration. "Can you stop? I'm... I'm trying to be serious here." His voice was small, breaking slightly as he looked away, his fingers twisting together anxiously.

Minho's teasing faltered as he took in the sight. Jisung's face was flushed, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his fingers curling tightly in his lap. For the first time, Minho realized how serious this was for him. He reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on Jisung's shoulder.

"Jisung..." he started, his own voice unusually soft.

Jisung swallowed, his eyes finally meeting Minho's with a vulnerability that felt raw and overwhelming. "Can't you see that I'm trying to tell you how I feel about you?"

The words were barely a whisper, but they hit Minho like a punch to the gut. Jisung's face crumpled, his frustration giving way to a fragile, unguarded sadness that made Minho's heart ache. He wanted to say something, anything, to reach out and pull Jisung into his arms, but before he could, Jisung's eyelids drooped, and he finally slumped back, his exhaustion pulling him under.

Minho sat beside him in stunned silence, watching the slow rise and fall of Jisung's chest, the memory of his words echoing in his mind. Jisung was always the one he gravitated toward, always the one who seemed to fill the quiet spaces in his life, but he'd never let himself think too deeply about why. He'd brushed it off as friendship, affection, anything but what it might actually be.

After a while, Jisung stirred, his eyes fluttering open, still hazy with sleep and drink. He blinked up at Minho, his gaze softening as a sleepy smile spread across his face. It was as if the intensity from earlier had faded into something warm and comfortable.

"Minho..." Jisung murmured, his voice light and teasing, as if none of the previous frustration had happened. His fingers reached up, tangling gently in Minho's hair, and he started petting him like a puppy, laughing softly to himself. "You're so... cute..."

Minho froze, his ears burning as Jisung's fingers played with his hair, soft and unsteady. His heart was pounding, and he knew his cheeks were probably as red as Jisung's had been. He wanted to brush Jisung's hand away, to make a joke, but he couldn't bring himself to move, too caught up in the gentle, absentminded way Jisung's fingers danced over his hair.

Jisung's gaze drifted to Minho's reddening ears, and with a dreamy, drunken smile, he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to one ear, then the other.

Minho's breath hitched, his heart feeling like it might explode. He stayed frozen, his entire body tingling at the warmth of Jisung's gentle, innocent kisses. When Jisung pulled back, he looked up at Minho with a sleepy, satisfied smile, his eyes half-closed.

"Goodnight, Minho..." he whispered, snuggling into the couch cushions, his face peaceful and content.

Minho stayed there, unable to move, the lingering warmth of Jisung's kiss seared into his skin. He knew that things would be different from this moment on, that the walls he'd built between them had cracked open just enough to let something new slip through. And for the first time, he found himself hoping that maybe, just maybe, they didn't need to pretend anymore.