Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend. —Theophrastus

 

 

Knock.

A brown-haired boy lifted his head, stopping in the middle of flipping a worn out page.

Knock, even softer this time.

He looked at his cat, staring at the front door to make sure it wasn’t just his imagination, before standing up. He paced softly, the book still in his hands.

His eyes met with much older, wiser ones. The silhouette standing in front of him was familiarly small, with silver strands slipping away disobediently from under the hair clip.

— Oh, hello. — A smile has formed on his lips.

— Good morning, Minho.

The boy opened the door completely to let the guest in, but the older lady refused kindly, not moving an inch. The boy balanced on his heels, waiting for an explanation that has not come. He hesitated before asking if he could be of any assistance.

— Actually, I think I’ve got something for you, sweetheart.

An even wider smile brightened the male’s features, only to start to falter the next second. He raised an eyebrow at the little neat package he received. The golden embellishment on the top of it was almost shining in the daylight, contrasted by deep ocean blue of the box. Where has he seen it before?

He was about to ask the lady, but then the realisation hit him. Unable to speak, he stared at the little gift, an unbearable amount of questions already forming in his head. The woman exhaled a breath that must’ve been held for long, while the younger suddenly felt out of air. She must’ve seen how his expression changed, dropping her head a bit.

— Please come by — she said with a smile that did not reflect in her eyes — if you want to talk. Take good care, Minho.

The boy only nodded a little and closed the door, still speechless.

 

***

 

— Hey, Minho, could you help me?

The boy looked away from the large piece of bristol board, searching for where the sound came from. He spotted his friend trying to hang a poster that was probably half of the boy’s size. He looked rather pissed off. The angry expression combined with his eyebrow slit and undercut raven hair would probably scare off all of the most brave people around the campus, but Minho knew too well he will be whining about how life’s hard for short men if nobody helps soon. And that’s exactly why he didn’t even intend to.

— Not really, use the ladder. — he shrugged, the corner of his mouth forming in a mischievous smirk.

— I’ll remember that, you .

Minho’s smile grew bigger, even though he was already back to cutting the paper. He wasn’t a fan of events that obliged him to perform any activities in his supposed-to-be leisure time, and getting the university decorated in bats, fake spider webs and Jack-o’-lanterns was undoubtedly on the blacklist now. Why did he have to do it when he wasn’t planning to attend it anyway?

Clang. A sharp metallic sound made him jump in his seat. Clink.

— Damn, Changbin, what the hell — he turned around abruptly to scold his friend, but stopped in the middle of the sentence. Much to his surprise, the black-haired male wasn’t the one who caused him to almost lose his finger.

No wonder I couldn’t hear any complaining, he growled in his thoughts, glaring at the unfamiliar face. His eyes met with a boy’s not much taller than Changbin, who was trying to find a stable place for the ladder. The rings on his fingers clashing with the metal only adding to the unpleasant noise. He was waiting for some sort of an apology, but the stranger’s wide smile made his eyes nearly disappear instead. He tried his best to activate his hidden superpower and kill the blond with his stare while he heard Changbin suggesting to move it “to the left, Jisung, my left”.

Jisung? Minho furrowed his eyebrows at the unknown name. He wondered why this boy had the audacity to help in the first place. He and raven-haired only had a few friends, and they all were mutual. Or did he miss something?

— My arms are too short. Minho, get your in here —the boy let out a loud sigh. Minho made sure to make an exaggerated eye roll before standing up and send the taller male an extra judging look. He stood there, hands in his pockets. Eventually, Changbin he noticed Minho’s now more questioning look.

— Oh, right, you don’t know each other, sorry. He’s a freshman. — he introduced, pointing to the boy called Han Jisung, with whom apparently his friend was in science this semester. Minho could already tell his contagious smile with a slightly crooked teeth was too bright for his liking.

— I haven’t seen you around.

— How nice. You never really notice people, do you. — Changbin voiced a statement rather than an authentic question, the slit eyebrow cocked. — Now move.

Minho’s face dropped as he bit his lip, the confidence he was sporting seconds ago nowhere to be found. Something about the set equipment made him shiver.

— I, um… — he trailed off, his gaze shifting nervously from bottom to the top of the silver steps.

— I’ll do it — Jisung offered, his converses already making screechy sounds on the metallic surface. His smile changed to a soft one when their eyes met — Hand me the pins.

Minho swallowed the gulp in his throat. He held the ladder in place maybe a bit too strong, his knuckles white. Maybe, he thought, maybe the blond boy wasn’t that bad after all.

 

*

 

Han Jisung always found his way to people’s hearts quickly. The energy he spread simply lifted up the mood, his talkativeness making the conversations comfortable and effortless to get lost in them.

And so he did find a way to Minho’s.

Although the older boy tried his best not to get under his spell, they somehow became attached at the hip. It was easy, being with him was easy. They shared hobbies, both of them were interested in music, but so he did with Changbin – yet he could sense it wasn’t going exactly in the same direction.

Fresh friendships are always like this, Minho thought, getting to know a person is always consuming you whole. Discovering their personality feels like painting a new picture step by step, starting with a sketch of a first impression. Little did he know about how it would change with time, how slowly added parts first altered the shades, tones and then even hues of the whole image.

Little did he know it wouldn’t be the picture he wanted.

One time he realised he truly enjoyed the boy’s company, he had his eyebrows furrowed, taking in the manner that his ever ring-covered fingers were following unconsciously the beat flowing from the café’s speakers. Jisung was sitting beside, sipping on his latte. Their project was still opened on his laptop, pieces of paper scattered around but long forgotten. Even though they know they wouldn’t do much this late anyway, they strolled down the snow-covered streets only to find themselves in the cosy coffee bar again, which somewhere in the process became their favourite spot. Minho has already lost count of the evenings they had spent in its corner to finish an assignment or just to grab a morning drink they both desperately needed.  The place’s interior was simple but compelling at the same time. The two wooden tables they always chose were petite, but had a grey sofa on both sides so there was always enough space to drop the backpacks. It wasn’t habitually crowded, however the thin partition wall right behind the backrest of the sofa, covered with abundant ivy garlands made the atmosphere more intimate. With nearly inaudible chatters, the elder felt like they were alone. The privacy allowed his gaze and thoughts to wander freely.

Minho observed. His eyes moved unhurriedly from the surroundings to his friend. Time passed fast. They’ve known each other for over a year now, so why the blond boy was still so captivating? The warm lights danced on his hair, creating reflexes, turning certain somewhat darker strands into light copper. Minho couldn’t deny, he made fun of it sometimes, but only to cover up how much he liked that contrast to his tanned skin. It resembled caramel in the slightly dimmed lights.

He decided it was better not to look at him. He moved a bit tad closer and leaned his head on the boy’s shoulder. Minho was happy he didn’t mind the proximity. He seemed to be perfectly calm, serene even, while Minho could hear his own heartbeat quickening its pace.

— Tired, hm? — the soft voice made him resurface from the deep of his thoughts.

The brown-haired only shrugged, looking down. If there was silence, it was rather soothing than awkward. Or at least it should be, Minho wasn’t so sure of it now. He let out a faint sigh. What was he getting himself into?

— They’re closing soon, we should get going.

— Okay, I’ll gather stuff.

Minho lifted his head, still taken aback by the mess inside of it. He waited, gently tracing the growth rings on the table. Maybe he could afford a short moment of weakness after all.

 

 

*

 

Minho didn’t drink much, but it was Changbin’s birthday and he wasn’t accepting a simple ‘no’. It was close to one of those parties you could see in a movie. There was everything – a big house, loud music and litres of alcohol filling disposable cups. The raven haired made sure to invite enough people so all of them would have fun and make the most of the freedom his parents granted him by leaving for the weekend.

It was perfect. A toast at the beginning of the party? Check. Chasing after their Birthday Boy and decorating his face with cake frosting – also check. Minho didn’t let the occasion of insulting him in front of his crush slip, too. They ensured to make the boy the happiest he could be at the moment. However, they weren’t so sure he  would remember it all the next day.

Drinking with Changbin was a challenge. It turned out to be an even tougher one when he suggested playing beer pong. Minho’s sense of distance was always a little off, not mentioning the additional buzz which probably messed it up more, but he couldn’t reject the offer. Especially not when he was paired up with overly excited Jisung. All he needed was a smile brighter than the sun and a hand wrapped around his wrist to change his mind. He could feel his guard dropping slowly, inch by inch with every shot.

— You told me you’re good at this? — Minho couldn’t believe his eyes. They really at the game, both of them.

— It’s my first time, okay? — the younger boy raised his hands in a defensive manner. — I just wanted to play with you.

At this rate, Minho could feel he’s going to reach his limits fast. Maybe he could do better, only if he hadn’t been distracted this much by Jisung rolling up his sleeves. He brushed the tingling feeling off though, blaming it on the alcohol and the fact he didn’t see him in a button-up shirt for almost a year.

Minho unquestionably needed a break from downing so many cups. To his delight, there was still enough room for dancing to the hottest hits of the summer. The upbeat music vibrated through his body, the pounding of bass sending shivers down his spine. He moved swiftly to the rhythm, enjoying the heightened sensations. His steps were smooth, satisfying to watch. The way he flexed his muscles showing he was much more than just a decent dancer. He was so lost in the moment he didn’t notice a pair of deep cinnamon eyes taking in every move of his in a silent appreciation. He also missed it when the owner of those eyes has approached him deliberately. The elder boy looked everywhere but into the Jisung’s eyes, not sure what his liquor-fogged mind would whisper to him. He didn’t trust himself. Not when the room was crowded, not when he could feel the blond boy’s body heat radiating. Something about the nigh distance (perhaps it was how the awareness of being watched made his own pulse accelerate, breath shorten; or it was those eyes, which shade seemed a tad darker) reminded him he should be on his guard.  

Unexpectedly, Jisung leaned forward. Minho instantly froze. The hand that was placed on the elder’s shoulder burnt the skin through the fabric of the shirt. The room suddenly lacked oxygen. The closer they were to each other, the more suffocated he felt. The grip on his shoulder moved to his nape and tightened, spreading goose bumps all over his body. Hot air brushed his ear when the younger asked if he wanted to get some water. Minho nodded hastily, hoping Jisung didn’t notice how out of breath he was because of the simple action. The intoxication was no good for him.

What was he expecting? He mentally urged himself to get a grip before following to the kitchen.

Jisung managed to find a clean cup and poured them water. The fresh feeling of a cold liquid helped to clear his mind a little. The peace couldn’t last forever, although after Changbin stormed in and propped himself up on the kitchen’s table with slightly hooded eyes, the elder prayed quietly for just one more second of it.

— Oh, Minho? I’ve been looking for you.

Oh no.

— I wanted to introduce you to someone.

Minho knew this phase of drunk Changbin all too well. He didn’t want to spend another hour or two listening to the same embarrassing stories over and over again. He’s got fooled once and he promised himself to never, ever go through this torture again. He met Jisung’s questioning gaze. Minho tried his best to convey his message nonverbally and look the most panicked he could manage, hoping the younger would understand the signs.

— Actually, Minho’s not feeling well, he needs some air — It was his lucky day. Jisung was quick to act on.

They excused themselves, leaving the raven haired boy dumbfounded. As soon as they were out of his vision they both burst into laughter the moment their eyes met. Jisung had always been a great partner in crime. Eventually, they found their way up the stairs, to the balcony on the first floor. Minho’s been to Changbin’s so many times he could probably get around with his eyes closed.

The night air brushed their faces in a pleasant, almost caring way.

— Thanks for saving me.

The blond waved his hand dismissively while walking up to the railing. Minho didn’t dare to take a step further, his back touching the wall. He commended himself to keep track of his thoughts, to stay focused. He observed how the younger boy’s hair, a shade darker in the moonlight, danced delicately in the gusts of wind. Then he pulled something rectangular from his front pocket and Minho quirked an eyebrow.

— I didn’t know you smoke.

— From time to time. — he responded while lighting up a cigarette.

Minho looked at the way the younger’s lips curled while the first semi-transparent cloud was exhaled. It was an oddly comforting view, he thought, it suited him nevertheless. The elder decided it was better for him to sit down, it wasn’t really that cold. He clenched one hand in a fist and was relaxing it in a steady pulse. He looked at the smoke, clearly visible on the background made of steel blue sky. It disappeared, fading away gradually. He wish he could compare it to the feelings that made him nauseous.

— Are you afraid of heights? — the blonde boy’s voice was low but strong, followed by another exhale.

—  How do you know?

Jisung rolled his eyes theatrically to accentuate how much it was showing. He finished his cigarette and turned around to face Minho with a mysterious look. His expression is typically easy to read, but the older male couldn’t pinpoint it this time. He felt like he could see right through him with piercing yet gentle eyes. It was something in between hesitance and confidence, bravery and uncertainty. Finally, he must’ve decided as he took a step forward to sit beside him.

They stayed still for a long while, their arms touching, while Minho counted the brightest stars he could spot. The only things he could hear were the muffled sounds from the inside and his own heartbeat, ringing frustratingly quick in his ears.

Breathe in, breathe out.

—  Are you scared now? —  Jisung turned his head before asking in a hushed tone.

Was the throbbing in his ribcage so loud that the younger could hear it?

Minho couldn’t tell anymore if the question was about the balcony or what he felt for him. He didn’t know the right answer either.

He looked into the younger’s eyes like he was trying to find it out; as the solution was buried deep inside of them, hiding in the outermost corner of his mere existence. Maybe if he would look carefully enough, he would see his own reflection. So many questions appeared in Minho’s head, swirling messily. Which one should he find an answer for first? The blond boy’s soft gaze was inviting to just get lost in it instead of thinking. Simply hypnotising. Minho wasn’t able to identify if his heart raced because of where he was or how he felt Jisung getting closer and closer with every raise of his chest, in a painfully measured pace.

The air was electrifying, Minho swore he could almost see a spark when they closed the gap.

His head was spinning in the opposite direction their lips moved in a slow tempo. Jisung’s lips were chopped but warm, cottony against his own. The younger’s hand made its way to the nape of the other’s neck, brushing the short hair with such tenderness, it made Minho melt under the touch. He leaned into it, forgetting the world around him. He wasn’t sure if he’s sobered up in those sheer seconds or got even more drunk off of the sensation. A shiver ran down Minho’s spine as Jisung brushed his fingers against his cheek, where they lingered a little longer. The elder was left out breathless once more that night.

— Please do this more often. — the elder spoke up, his voice merely a whisper.

Jisung only smiled a small smile before pulling him close yet again.

Minho thought Jisung made it easy to get used to the taste of the cigarettes.