Work Text:
They still meet at the bus stop.
Sometimes.
Minho’s classes aren’t as magically compatible as they used to, but it’s okay. Even if they don’t align in the mornings, they have plenty of opportunities to meet during the day.
At first, Jisung misses the familiar presence in the bus next to him, the half-asleep conversations and the sight of Minho sipping his coffee with a slight scoff. He misses listening to Minho’s morning playlist as they nod off on each other’s shoulders. Without Minho’s presence, it’s easy to drift off into dreamland and miss his usual stop, but he learns to keep his focus again.
(Minho misses the morning rides too – Jisung’s bright smiles and liveliness that easily woke him up, the warmth of a body pressed against his side, and the smell of Jisung’s fruity shampoo when the younger laid his head on his shoulder as he nodded off. It was a very nice semester, he has to admit, in Jisung’s company as not just a stranger but a companion.)
They start meeting at the campus, instead.
It’s awkward at first, trying to catch Minho’s attention as he rushes from class to class. Not because he wouldn’t spare a minute for Jisung (in fact, Minho is very happy for the fleeting moments when he can stop and absorb Jisung’s words instead of thinking about assignments), but the campus is huge and not all professors take mercy on the late coming students.
They make it work, eventually.
Jisung asks for Minho’s schedule and learns the pattern. Soon, they are meeting up four times a week, each time between different lectures. Sometimes Minho has a window and they can walk around the campus park, other times they only have time for a quick hello, waving at each other as they both rush to their classes. But it’s perfect, either way – just seeing Minho between classes makes Jisung feel all giddy and energised.
(Minho appreciates Jisung’s effort to match their schedules. He often rushes out of the lecture hall just to be a little early to their meeting, hoping to see Jisung already standing at their meeting spot, waiting.)
It’s Minho who picks the meeting spot – it’s technically settled as the middle point between their usual buildings, but Minho points to the fountain with a purpose.
He hopes Jisung doesn’t catch on to his thought of wanting to admire the younger among the flower bushes.
(Jisung connects the dots when he first catches Minho staring with the fond intense stare he is now so used to.
The older’s ears turn pink when he realises he’s been spacing out, quickly shifting their conversation to something hopefully more entertaining – Jisung takes the bait, though he never stops thinking about the blush that sits on Minho’s beautiful cheekbones.)
On Tuesdays, Jisung often runs late. He shows up panting, bent in the middle and supporting his arms on his knees, barely catching his breath but already stuttering out excuses. Minho still smiles and waves him off, offering a seat next to him.
Jisung plops down and immediately relaxes, letting their conversation flow into peculiar directions. He loves hearing Minho’s giggles when he says something even remotely ridiculous – he strives off the angelic sound.
(Minho loves listening to Jisung ramble about just anything. The younger’s honey-like voice brings him peace and he enjoys watching as his face lights up in animated emotions.
Sitting at the fountain with Jisung is so relaxing. It feels as if the world around them switched off for a short moment, and Minho’s chest is filled with glee instead of stress. He can’t help but giggle in content when he thinks about it like that.)
On Wednesdays, they meet in the early morning. Jisung enrolled in a morning class, which he regrets weekly, but he needed the credits. At least Minho is there to keep him company while he regains his sanity after an hour and a half of listening to Professor Yang’s monotone voice.
(Minho takes the earlier bus on Wednesdays, knowing Jisung will be tired and lonely that morning.
The bus is packed like never, with passengers pushing each other and fresh air nowhere to be found, but he makes the sacrifice of getting onto it every week anyway.
Jisung’s face lighting up notices he sees Minho at their meeting spot is absolutely worth it.)
On Thursdays, their windows align. Minho’s afternoon philosophy class is at five and Jisung’s classes start around the same time, too. That gives them half a day to waste on each other.
(Jisung won’t admit that he looks forward to Thursdays all week because of it.)
On this day, they take a walk around the campus park. Jisung’s eyes keep falling towards their hands idly brushing against each other, but he doesn’t have enough confidence to change that. He wonders how it would feel to have Minho’s palm pressed against his own, fingers intertwined – then Minho turns to look at him, and he quickly dismisses the thought, averting his eyes.
Minho hums and continues walking as if nothing happened. And he’s right, nothing happened.
(Minho stays silent for the rest of their walk, but his mind keeps returning to the mental image of Jisung’s blush spreading across his round cheeks. He wonders if he would see more of it.)
It’s three months into the second semester when he and Minho kiss for the first time.
The weather that day is rainy, the grey skies prompting Jisung to take an umbrella with him just in case the downpour turned from pleasant to deadly.
Minho shows up in a pastel sweater that day, which makes him look unbearably cute with the way the sleeves fall below his wrists and create little kitty paws. Jisung wants to coo when he notices, but he doesn’t. He isn’t ready to explain why he finds the older cute.
Not yet, anyway.
He keeps the thought to himself throughout the day, promptly distracting him from the classes.
(Minho is just as distracted, thinking about how cute Jisung looked in his oversized scarf.)
When they see each other after classes, it’s by chance.
Jisung’s afternoon class is cancelled that day and he takes the opportunity to catch Minho and ride the bus with him – maybe they could get lunch together.
The Engineering building is on the opposite side of campus, but he doesn’t mind the slight downpour. Actually, he likes walking in the rain. Letting the refreshing drops cool him off, it’s like the skies gently kiss you across your face. Thousands of tiny kisses.
He spots the older seeking shelter under the front terrace of the building, noticeably grumpy. He is informed that Minho forgot his umbrella that morning.
Jisung shrugs at the sullen comment. “It’s not that heavy, you can walk in it just fine.”
“It will soak my bag,” Minho grumbles, but Jisung is already pulling him onto the open air. (And he doesn’t even want to complain because Jisung’s palm rests in his and it’s warm.)
Jisung’s heart is beating fast when he pulls Minho by the hand, so he does what he can do the best – closes his eyes and lets himself be carried away.
They dance, Jisung twirls around and Minho awkwardly follows after him, tightening their hold before he regains composure and joins Jisung in the fun. Soon, they’re both laughing. (Minho is laughing at the top of his lungs. He never felt this carefree before.)
Unlike before, Minho seems happy. He doesn’t protest when Jisung sets their bags down onto the nearest bench, even if they’re both aware the contents won’t be intact by the time they return home. Jisung watches him with starry eyes, admiring how his bangs stick to his forehead messily and as the raindrops roll down his face, making his skin glister. His radiant smile makes Jisung’s heart soar.
It happens that Jisung stumbles right into Minho’s chest.
He freezes, and his first instinct is to look up – he’s met with an intense gaze. Neither dares to move. Jisung listens to a heartbeat that hammers in either of their chests, he can’t be sure whose. Then he realises Minho is, too, holding his breath and…
The kiss is simple. It lasts three seconds before Jisung hastily pulls away and walks backwards until his foot steps right into a puddle, the splashing sound ruining their little moment. Minho cracks a laugh at him. Jisung stares at him with held breath for a moment longer before he lets out a laugh, too.
Minho isn’t running away.
(Minho does feel like running, actually. The tension that has been building up in his chest for agonising months is now gone, flew out of the window the moment their lips touched. He feels so light. He wants to run as far as his feet carry him, screaming his lungs out in happiness.
He doesn’t, of course. Looking at Jisung’s sparkling eyes and wide heart-shaped smile grounds him well enough.)
The first time they meet after the kiss, Jisung isn’t sure how to act. They haven’t talked about it when it happened either, and now it feels stupid to bring up. He doesn’t even know how.
Maybe it meant nothing to Minho. (Okay, even he realises how stupid that sounds, but the worried thought doesn’t leave his mind anyway.)
Minho doesn’t talk about it either, automatically tuning into what Jisung has to say about his classes and sharing his own anecdotes. It feels natural and easy, just like any other day. Jisung notes how cheerful Minho seems to be today, eyes full of the intense fondness and voice more animated than usual.
He cannot keep his hands to himself either, reaching out to where Jisung has a leaf stuck in his hair, then letting his hand fall atop Jisung’s. Squeezes lightly.
Jisung feels his heart thunder and before he knows it, he’s opening his mouth.
“The kiss,” he says, uselessly direct.
Minho misses a beat, then lets out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, the kiss. I liked it.”
Then he looks at Jisung intently, waiting for a confirmation of feeling the same. Jisung’s throat turns dry, so he nods instead. It’s just what Minho was hoping for, it seems, because he doesn’t waste any more time before leaning in to peck Jisung’s lips.
The kiss is different from the one they shared in the rain, much softer. Jisung loves it even more.
(Minho loves it equally, just like the next one. And the next. And every other kiss that comes after.)