Jisung didn't stay for the afterparty. He'd had his fill of wedding day bliss and felt thoroughly socialized. He was surfing a sugar crash too.

All sorts of college friends and acquaintances shook his hand goodbye, and Sangkyu's mother gave him a bear hug. Soobin and Sangkyu waved from across the room where they were downing shots and tugging at their bowties.

Minho eventually met him outside, and they walked to the bus station together, processing in silence. Jisung appreciated the time to think. Well, he wouldn't have minded talking, but Minho didn't, so he didn't either. They said goodbye outside his apartment with a hug that tortured Jisung until the small hours of the morning.

His week is eerily normal. Eating and sleeping and working, no Minho, no newlyweds, no unexpected dance numbers. The wedding seemed like such a momentous event — and it was. Just for different reasons than expected.

He's on the bus, pretending to scroll his phone, when a text pops up. The contact is saved as a heart and a dancing emoji. Oh shit.

Hey, are you free? I have to show you something

Then an address across town.

Jisung was on his way home. But he scrambles off at the nearest stop and grabs a bus heading in the opposite direction.

The buildings shrink and the sun ducks behind the horizon. Jisung watches out the window, bees buzzing in his stomach. Minho could be leading him anywhere. He doesn't want to take any guesses or let his expectations fly too high. Just Minho texting him seems too good to be true.

Jisung gets off and wanders the street looking for the right address. He jolts to a stop at a storefront with a big grungy sign that reads CUSTOM ORTHOTICS. The windows are covered with black plastic, but the door is propped open by a ratty sneaker.

He peeks inside. Tall ceilings with exposed pipes, floors with threadbare carpeting and scattered debris, and in the middle of it all is Minho, kneeling and ripping up carpet. (Sleeveless, in an undershirt, which makes Jisung glitch for a solid five seconds.)

"Hey," says Jisung.

Minho looks over his shoulder. A smile dawns on his face.

He gets to his feet, brushing his hands off. "Well? What do you think?"

"Of...?"

"My new studio."

Jisung's jaw drops open. He marches up to Minho and shoves him. "Get the fuck out, really?"

"Day after the wedding, I met up with Soobin's business friend." He shrugs. "We hit it off."

"What are you going to do?"

Minho dives into an animated plan of action: "The desk over here is a waste of space, so I have some demo guys coming tomorrow. I'm thinking of getting lights that flash and change colour, that'd be cool, right? I have to get mirrors, blinds, a new sign, a good sound system, and clearly the carpet is at death's door, but the floor under it is really beautiful. God, I feel so lucky." He amends, "No, scratch that. Luck has nothing to do with it. This is all because of you."

Jisung fakes a modest pshaw. "It was nothing."

"It's everything to me. Thank you."

His voice is so earnest, his eyes are so soft — it makes Jisung want to say something stupid. Instead he says "No problem."

Minho smiles, hands in his pockets.

"So...," Jisung says to fill the silence. "People will be dancing here soon."

"Yeah, hopefully."

"Is it weird I want to sign up?"

Jisung thought Minho would laugh, but he just shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. "You can do whatever you want." Then an idea quirks his lip. "We should christen the place."

"Huh?"

Minho is scrolling his phone. He sets it on the desk and tinny ballroom music whirls into the room.

He bows and says "May I have this dance?"

Jisung gladly takes his hand.

Touching Minho isn't anything new. Jisung is used to the feeling of his gentle hands, calluses and all. But there will never be an end to the thrill of having Minho's eyes on him, his unbroken attention. Jisung soaks it up like sunlight.

He knows what comes next. He presses his hand to Minho's back.

"Posture," he says.

Minho straightens out, smiling dryly. "Much appreciated."

"The waltz is a wedding dance, you know."

"I've had weddings on the brain lately. I did catch the bouquet."

"Right. Understandable."

"Any thoughts since you made it out alive?"

"Just that I don't regret it. And lying can be kind of fun."

"Oh? I thought the moral of the story was supposed to be, you know, moral."

"Nope. Lying was the right choice and had no setbacks."

"But you telling the truth scored me a studio."

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Stop being perfect."

"You know I can't help it."

He leads Jisung into a twirl, and Jisung twirls him too. They meet again and easily fall back into the routine.

"So," says Jisung. "Think you'll miss anything about the gym?"

"You mean having a studio with no sound system? Losing three quarters of the profit? Sharing a space with that prick yoga instructor?"

"I meant the students."

Minho scoffs. "You mean yourself?"

"No."

"Sure, I'll miss the class. But if they want, they can sign up here and I won't have to miss them."

"Maybe they will sign up."

"Maybe they will."

"Unless you don't want them to."

"Are we still talking about the class or...?"

"Why don't you want me to sign up?"

Minho tips his head back, laughing. "I don't know! Okay okay, because... I don't want to be student and teacher anymore. I want to be friends."

Jisung doesn't know whether to smile or frown at that. "Oh. Yeah, sure. Friends."

"You're good with that?"

"Yeah. Promise you won't replace me with some newbie though."

"You say that like you were my star student or something."

"Wasn't I?"

He pointedly doesn't answer that. "How could I replace you?"

"What if someone asks you to pretend to be their date to an ex's wedding?"

"Who in the world would ask me to do that? I mean, who else in the world would ask me to do that?"

"I dunno. But if anyone does, say no."

"Jealous?"

"Yeah."

Minho hears the truth in his voice. Their eyes meet.

"I want to be the only idiot in your life." Jisung laughs a little, to fill that familiar expanse between them. "Or something."

Minho nods slowly, swallowing. "Okay. Then I promise I won't pretend-date anyone else. And I won't have a great time with them, or dance with them, or kiss them, and pretend it didn't mean anything when it... did."

"It meant something?"

"I dunno. Did it?"

"I thought it was for show."

"I wanted it to be."

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid that if I kissed you, I'd fall in love with you."

Somehow they're still dancing. They haven't missed a beat.

"Oh. I-I didn't think you'd be one to be afraid of... something like that."

"Yeah, well. I'm not as perfect as I say I am. Sometimes."

"So... what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you fall for me?"

And Minho looks at him, every confident and passionate, uncertain and vulnerable part of him brimming in his voice. "God, how could I not?"

Warmth blooms beneath Jisung's skin. So this is what it feels like.

"Can I kiss you?" he says.

But Minho kisses him first.

Their waltz slows to a sway and the space between them draws to nothing.

Minho smiles idly against his lips. "Not friends then?"

"Dear God no."

"And you won't sign up for my class?"

"As long as you give me private lessons." Jisung cringes. "I know how that sounded, don't say it."

Minho blinks innocently. "I don't follow, how did it sound?"

"Nope, fuck you, changing the subject. Let's go out. When are you free?"

"You can come back tomorrow, help smash the shit out of the front desk? Then lunch afterward, just you and me. What do you think?"

Jisung can't help his smile. His heart feels like a rising flame, too big and bright. "I do."

"What was that?"

"Uh, I do... want to eat with you."

"Weddings on the brain?"

"Well. I did catch the bouquet."

"Technically it rebounded off your head."

"I made first contact."

Minho laughs, skeptical. "I don't think that's how it works."

"Still. I think the universe is smiling on me."

"How's that?"

"I'm here with you."

"That's all?"

"Yeah." Jisung shrugs, crossing his arms behind Minho's neck. Minho's arms wrap around him easily. "It's more than enough."

—

that's the end~

thank you for reading!