They stand in the hall outside the dance practice studio, sipping from water bottles and chatting lightly about anything from rehearsals to where they want to get dinner tonight. Minho listens attentively as Jisung tangents about whether he wants tteokbokki or udon when they leave later. Jisung absentmindedly stretches his legs while he faces Minho, ever full of energy despite the last hour of high intensity dance rehearsal.

A door opens from a bit down the hall and Minho recognizes three staff members exiting a meeting room, chatting amicably among themselves. They walk in Minho and Jisung's direction, probably to reach the exit on the other end of the hall.

Jisung doesn't seem to have noticed them yet, still lost in his stretches and thoughts of dinner. He's blocking a good portion of the hallway and Minho doesn't want to interrupt him, but he also wants to make sure the staff can pass without issue.

Giving it little thought, Minho reaches out to place a hand on Jisung's waist to pull him out of the way. When he rests his hand into the gentle curve, Minho realizes with a start just how tiny Jisung's waist is. Just resting his palm and fingers on him, Minho's hand covers nearly half of the small circumference of Jisung's waist. And even through his thin shirt, Minho can feel how soft and warm the skin there is. This is far from the first time Minho has touched Jisung here and despite it no longer being a new experience, Minho feels the familiar buzzing sensation that only touching Jisung seems to bring. He feels it in his fingertips, his palm, practically shooting up his arm and into his brain. Just a pleasant buzz of warmth and excitement.

It's been happening more and more recently. What is happening to him? And why can't Minho bring himself to mind the strange buzz when it means he gets to hold Jisung?

Against his will, forbidden thoughts of what it would feel like to wrap his other hand around Jisung's waist flood his mind. Would his fingertips meet at his back if he squeezed him tight enough? Would he be able to feel the push and pull of Jisung's breathing under his hands? How easy would it be to pull Jisung impossibly closer, or even lift him up off the ground?

Minho forces himself to breathe normally as he schools his expression into something neutral despite his less than savory thoughts–though his delight at getting to hold Jisung so intimately feels nearly tangible in the air, like he could choke on it.

Jisung hardly reacts to the touch, unaware of Minho's mental distress and letting himself be led gently out of the way of incoming staff and crew. Jisung smiles sweetly at them while Minho offers a quick nod and no one spares them a second glance as they pass, the staff more than used to the casual, frequent touching among their group–something Minho appreciates.

Minho drops his hand now that they've passed, no longer able to hold him without cause. He instantly mourns the loss of Jisung's pleasant warmth under his hand. Jisung's eyes follow the hand as it falls back to Minho's side, his mouth scrunching up a bit–cute, Minho thinks unhelpfully–as his gaze lingers there for a moment. Minho quirks a brow and almost asks, but Jisung recovers quickly and launches back into whatever he'd been saying moments before, as if the last few moments didn't just cause Minho an entire mental crisis.

Chan pokes his head out into the hall not long after that to call them back in from break and Minho is almost relieved to have something productive to do to distract himself from thoughts of Jisung and his tiny waist and what it all means.

The remainder of rehearsal goes smoothly and Minho is feeling tired but accomplished as they wrap up for the evening. He's all but forgotten about his earlier mental panic as he sits on the floor, finishing his cool down by stretching his legs. The others flit around the room, some stretching like him, others gathering their clothes and bags while they chat and laugh amongst themselves. It's peaceful, Minho thinks, the easy way they all exist with each other, playfully teasing and comfortable and familiar all at once.

He pulls himself down over his leg once more, feeling a pleasant stretch in the back of his thigh. His eyes are closed as he leans into the stretch, releasing a breath and allowing his eyes to flutter open as he slowly leans back up. He reaches up, stretching his back out one last time before exhaling and flopping down to lay back against the floor, in no real hurry to get out of here.

Minho tilts his head to the side, eyes flitting about the studio as he searches for Jisung on instinct before he even realizes what he's doing. He finds him in one of the corners, head thrown back in a laugh as he chats with Changbin and Jeongin about something Minho can't quite make out. He shuts his eyes again, allowing Jisung's sweet laughter to echo through the room and into his skull. Between the exercise, stretching, and sounds of happiness from Jisung, Minho is feeling blissed out and tired. He's content just to lay here in the studio for however long until someone either kicks him out or lets him fall asleep here, though that's pretty unlikely.

He must doze off for a moment, because the next time he opens his eyes, the studio is quiet and empty, save for the person peering down at him and nudging a shoe into his side.

"I want udon, get up." Jisung says through a smile, nudging his side again for emphasis.

Minho grunts sleepily, slapping away the offensive shoe. "Don't touch me with your dirty sneakers," he chides, pushing himself into a sitting position and covering a yawn.

"My sneakers aren't dirty!" Jisung says, offering a hand to pull him up despite the bickering.

Minho just hums neutrally, too tired to argue at the moment. He accepts the hand, clasping his own around Jisung's smaller one and allowing him to help pull him to his feet. Minho tries not to think about how Jisung's soft hand seems to fit perfectly within his own, like it was designed to do so.

They release each other and Minho grabs his belongings as he slowly wakes up, tolerating Jisung's complaints at his relaxed pace and how he's starving and how if he passes out from hunger it's his fault. Minho fixes him with an unimpressed look as they exit the studio, flicking his forehead for being annoying and chuckling when Jisung squeaks indignantly. Minho promises to treat him for dinner tonight and that seems to placate Jisung enough to quickly get over it and excitedly grab Minho by the arm as he rushes them out of the building.

Minho lets himself be led and fails at trying to hide the content smile that lights up his face, buzzing pleasantly all over as Jisung fastwalks them in the direction of the restaurant.

Jisung nurses his bubble tea against his chest, half full, the straw resting lightly against his lips as he leans heavily onto Minho's shoulder. They sit next to each other on the train back to the dorm, Minho feeling more awake and alert after eating dinner and Jisung evidently having the opposite reaction as he struggles to keep his eyes open, his head lolling to the side every few moments as the train gently rustles them together. Minho had felt fine to walk the distance back home, but observing Jisung basically dead on his feet leaving the restaurant left him with no choice but to herd him to the closest train station, lightly chastising him along the way for picking a restaurant so far away from their dorm.

Minho eyes the drink in Jisung's hand, Jisung having taken full advantage of Minho's offer to treat and ordering a bubble tea to go. Now, as the younger boy seems to slip in and out of consciousness, Minho sighs and reaches over to grab the mess waiting to happen out of his hand before Jisung can spill it all over himself and the train.

Minho nearly drops the drink himself as their fingers briefly brush against each other and that all too familiar buzz of warmth travels up his arm. He scolds himself internally for the strong reaction, having only his quick reflexes to thank for not dropping the cup entirely.

He sits back against his seat with a sigh, Jisung finally seeming to fall into a deeper sleep as his thick eyelashes twitch and close, his head coming to rest on Minho's shoulder. His face looks peaceful–unfairly cherubic and sweet and beautiful all at once, even under the harsh fluorescence of the train lights. Even with his cheek smooshed into the shoulder of Minho's denim jacket. He's adorable.

Minho isn't sure how much more of this he can take.

It had started out so simple, just an innocent friendship. Their group got along pretty well from the very beginning, for which everyone was grateful. But even beyond that, Jisung had taken to him almost immediately, despite Minho's cold exterior and somewhat aloof personality. Jisung had sought him out, pestered him and teased him until Minho couldn't help but feel a growing fondness for the younger boy. He considered him to be like the younger brother he'd never had, just as he considers the other six boys in their group–with the exception of Chan, who acts more like an older brother or even a parent, on occasion. The longer they worked together and the closer they all got to each other, the easier it was to embrace them as more than just coworkers. They're Minho's family now. It's a wonderful thing and it's more than Minho ever expected to get out of becoming an idol.

But this thing with Jisung, it feels… different.

As much as Minho wants to be able to categorize his feelings as nothing more than brotherly and familial with Jisung, he is beginning to realize that he just… can't anymore. It isn't Minho's nature to lie to himself; to delude himself. Yes, his feelings for Jisung had started that way–innocent and brotherly. But somewhere along the way, the more deep conversations and late night practices and difficult, emotional nights in the dorm they shared…somehow those feelings evolved past what could be shoved under the umbrella of "just family" or "just friends."

Minho likes Jisung.

No, more accurately, he adores Jisung.

He adores the way Jisung eats with vigor, talking with his mouth full despite frequent scoldings. He adores how passionate Jisung is about producing music, how he raps and the tenor to his voice. He adores that Jisung can somehow always read the room, adjusting his tone and volume to speak with him or the others in whatever way they need him to. He adores Jisung's work ethic and his constant desire to improve himself and the group as a whole. He adores how kind and sweet Jisung behaves with the fans, always allowing time for one more photo or autograph, despite the staff trying to pull him away. He adores the way he lights up the room and makes others around him feel at ease. He adores his snark and his fearless attitude and he adores his bubbly laugh and the way his eyes squint when he smiles. He adores his pouty lips and perfect teeth and impossibly warm, chocolate brown eyes. He adores his soft but deceptively strong hands that reach for Minho frequently. He adores his body and the confident way he uses it when he moves and dances. And he adores his ridiculous tiny waist that feels far too good under Minho's hands.

He just… adores Jisung. More than he knows what to do with. And it's too much. It's too much and it's far too much and it's to the point where Minho feels likely to explode if he doesn't do something about the overwhelming feelings of it all.

He never meant to develop feelings for Jisung. He never meant to fall in love with Jisung. It's not often that Minho feels helpless, but he's heard enough love songs to know that in this matter–matters of the heart–he can only sigh and accept that it's far, far out of his hands now.

Minho is pulled out of his big gay panic by the chime over the train intercom alerting that they're nearing the stop closest to the dorms. He elects to stop feeling feelings for the moment so he can focus on getting a very sleepy Jisung back to their home safely.

Speaking of sleepy Jisungs, the boy dozing on his shoulder is properly out and waking him up could be a challenge. Minho debates just carrying him, but dismisses the idea quickly when he remembers they're both wearing backpacks and he's still holding Jisung's tea.

Minho worms his free arm behind Jisung's back, through the straps of his backpack, until his hand wraps around his waist over top of his jacket. He gives the younger boy a few quick squeezes, leaning forward to speak softly near his ear.

"Wake up, Sungie. Our stop's coming up."

Jisung groans lightly, stubbornly pushing his face into Minho's neck to avoid the harsh lights of the train car and the reality of having to wake up. Minho barely represses a shiver when he feels the two soft, warm imprints of Jisungs lips against the skin of his neck. Jisung whines lowly about being woken up and it takes every ounce of Minho's self control to remain absolutely still as his mouth vibrates against his neck.

Minho squeezes his side again, more insistently, as the train begins to slow.

"I know, I know. Come on, up. Up, Jisungie."

Minho stands as the train comes to a halt, pulling Jisung up with the arm still wrapped tightly behind him, fingers gripping into his side and holding a majority of his weight as Jisung adjusts to the sudden change. Jisung grumbles, but allows Minho to lead them off of the train and up the stairs to the surface, where it's just a few blocks walk to the dorm.

Jisung doesn't pull away from Minho as they begin their walk, still sleepy and probably craving the extra warmth that being held provides. And Minho is happy to provide it and have an excuse to keep holding Jisung, so that's how they spend the next several minutes, occasionally speaking softly about plans for tomorrow and how eager they are to shower after all the dance rehearsals today. It's not super late, but it's later than they usually stay out on a weeknight so it's completely dark out, save for the frequent streetlights and convenience store lights scattered along the path towards home.

Minho feels a buzzing in his back pocket and swiftly shoves Jisung's tea back into his hands, who whines but then seems to be ecstatic to remember he had tea to begin with, sucking it down happily. Minho rolls his eyes at him but smiles anyway as he pulls his phone out, glancing at the name on screen before accepting the call and bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Chan."

"Hey, Minho. Do you have Jisung with you?"

"Yeah, he's with me. We're walking back to the dorms, just a few blocks away."

"Oh, okay. Good. I was starting to get worried. It's getting late. And I'm pretty sure I remember telling all of you to text me if you're gonna be out past 9pm."

Minho grimaces but manages to hold back a groan. There's an edge to Chan's voice, but it's not anger. Minho has known Chan long enough to know when he's actually angry and this isn't it. He was likely just anxious since Minho didn't let him know where they were. That's his bad.

"Yeah, you did. I forgot. I'm sorry, Hyung." Minho apologizes, cringing a bit. He rarely calls Chan by Hyung, but he does it now to show that he's properly sorry. Because he does respect Chan and he does feel at least a little bad for worrying him by getting back so late. Actually, he has no clue what time it is, pulling his phone away briefly to check.

9:02pm

Minho can't help but smile. Only Chan would call two minutes after curfew to make sure they're okay. Anyone else would give them maybe ten, fifteen minutes–but not Chan, the self proclaimed father of seven who's always looking out for his "kids." It doesn't bother Minho though. It's nice to have someone looking after them.

"It's okay, I'm just glad you two are okay. Just try not to make it a habit, yeah? You'll be back soon?" Chan sounds more relieved now, like his normal happy self.

"Yep, Jisungie and I will see you in just a few."

"Cool, thanks Minnie. Bye."

"Bye."

Minho pockets his phone after hanging up, tugging Jisung just a bit closer to his side. They're pretty close to the dorms now, so Minho wants to make the most of the time they have left alone. Not in a weird way. Just…it's not every day that Jisung so eagerly seeks out Minho's arms. Though it is most days.

"Are we in trouble?" Jisung asks with a smirk. They all have a healthy amount of respect for Chan and his rules, but Jisung and Felix tend to be the ones who give him the hardest time about it, constantly looking for ways to test his patience. All in good fun, of course.

"Nah. He's not mad." Minho shrugs, giving Jisung's side a purposeful squeeze. "You need to remind me to text him though, next time we're out late. I always seem to lose track of time when I'm with you."

It's a casual enough admission, but Minho's heart still skips a beat at the small confession. Though Jisung won't see it that way, of course. But it's as honest as he'll allow himself to be right now, regarding those feelings he's doing his best not to feel right now.

Jisung laughs, as expected, then turns his face up towards Minho's, resting a cheek on his shoulder. Minho glances down at him, but keeps his chin facing forward, feeling somehow exposed under Jisung's attentive gaze.

"I bet you say that to everyone you get dinner with," Jisung says softly, humor dancing in his eyes.

"No. Just you." Minho replies honestly.

Jisung hums knowingly, but doesn't comment. Instead, he wordlessly brings the straw of his boba tea up to Minho's lips, offering him some.

Minho takes a sip, not because he particularly wants some, but because Jisung is offering it. Most of the ice has melted so it's less sweet and milky, but it's still decent.

"It's good. Maybe I'll get one too next time."

Jisung seems content with that, humming appreciatively as he finishes the remainder of the drink.

"I'll treat you next time, okay? It feels like you're always the one treating me recently," Jisung says, reaching a hand around to pat Minho on the chest.

Minho's heart skips a beat at the attention and the promise of a next time. He wants to tell Jisung that he treats him because he's worth it. That spending time with him alone is something he looks forward to every day. That he'd happily treat him every single day if it means he gets to spend an extra fifteen, thirty minutes, an hour getting to monopolize Jisung's attention all to himself.

But he can't say any of that. Not yet, at least.

Minho settles on, "Sure thing, Sungie," and holds him just a bit closer, the remainder of the walk home spent in comfortable silence.