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Jisung slaps Minho’s thigh, right above his knee.
“Ow!” Minho yelps. “That hurt.”
But he stops jiggling his leg, so Jisung returns his eyes to the road and doesn’t say anything back.
The vibes in the car are rancid. Jisung is the type of person to get affected heavily by the moods of those around him and it just so happens that his best friend is a bundle of nerves in the seat beside him.
Minho wanted to drive to the office by himself, but Jisung convinced him to let him drive. Minho had to study a little bit anyway, which is what he’s currently doing. He flips through the flashcards a little too fast to be actually reading them. He’s also jiggling his leg again, and Jisung bites back a remark.
Minho gets a free pass today. He’s about to take the aptitude test and do the final interview at his dream company. Jisung is confident that Minho will get it (there’s no competition, he’s kind of a genius) but Minho gets weirded out sometimes.
He was the same way when they were applying for colleges back in high school. Senior year, they both applied to the top business school. They hit ‘apply’ at the same time, side by side on Jisung’s twin size bed. For Jisung, it was honestly a reach, and Minho probably had it in the bag, but Minho was actually more nervous about it than Jisung was.
They both got in.
And now Minho was possibly even more nervous about this job. Jisung supposes the stakes are slightly higher. But Jisung still thinks he’s freaking.
Jisung gathers up the courage to poke the lion.
“You’re going to get it.”
Minho lets out an annoyed huff and doesn’t deign his attempt at encouragement with a reply.
Jisung puts his hand on his thigh again, and he leaves it there this time, trying in vain to stabilize the shaking.
“I’m going to fail the test,” Minho says, monotone and void of all emotion.
“No you aren’t.”
“The drug test then.”
“You did the whole cleanse thing plus you chugged a billion waters.”
Jisung glances at Minho. He’s turned away from Jisung, and Jisung wishes he could see his face.
They pull into the lot and park. The office building is massive, all marble and glass. Jisung admits that it looks intimidating.
When they get in, they have to check in with security and take photos for their visitor passes. It’s a whole thing.
The security officer gives them instructions to get to the interview and Jisung pays attention as best as he can, because he predicts that Minho probably has enough on his mind.
Jisung feels good because he’s stepping up and taking on some of the responsibility that, by default (due to his maturity and general know-how), usually falls to Minho. But Jisung thinks he’s doing a great job supporting his best friend. When Minho gets the job, he will be so thankful and appreciative of everything Jisung did to help him out.
Generally, they have a good roommate partnership worked out. They’ve been officially living together ever since freshman year—when Jisung was the de facto president of socializing and campus events while Minho was in charge of dorm room maintenance and stocking their cabinets with canned coffee and snacks.
Now that they share a little 2-bedroom house (they rent it), their responsibilities have naturally shifted here and there, but Jisung figures it’s still about 50-50. Maybe 60-40.
But today Jisung feels 100% responsible and focused on making sure everything goes well for this interview and test. Wait, did the security guard say 14th floor or 15th?
Jisung mashes a button in the elevator and figures they can always try the other floor if need be. Minho looks uncharacteristically dog-like, with wide eyes and a crease between his eyebrows.
“Let’s stop by a bathroom on the way,” he says.
Jisung nods, but privately thinks he should make it to the HR office first, and then ask to be excused. Just in case he picked the wrong floor. But they have plenty of time.
Jisung leads the way to the best of his ability, but strangely, when they make a right, Jisung is expecting a different room to be at the end of the hall, so then he retraces his steps, and he makes a left, but they don’t pass the elevator again, which he was kind of expecting, so he isn’t sure if he should go straight or go right now.
Jisung glances at Minho. He’s looking back, doubtful of their path through the labyrinthine halls.
“Let’s go straight!” Jisung says, making his mind up to exude a positive atmosphere. He has to be strong for Minho.
Minho looks very uncertain. He checks the time on his phone. “Can we hurry up, please?”
Jisung also checks the time. “At least we got here super early!”
Minho gives him a curt nod, and obligingly follows Jisung. They walk through the pristine, bright white marble halls. Their footsteps are the only sound and they almost echo. The doors are all shut and the end of the hallway is always either a dead end or a branch, a choice to go left or go right. Jisung remembers from his computer science class that you should stick to one side of the wall to solve a maze, but this shouldn’t really be a maze, it’s just an office building.
He goes left.
And they walk.
And walk.
And walk.
Jisung swears they have seen this hallway before, and turned left at least 3 times in a row, so he’s about to suggest that perhaps this is just one big circle, like a square-shaped building with a central courtyard, and maybe they should go down one of the other paths?
But the second set of footsteps suddenly stops and Jisung turns to see Minho, eyes wide, knees slightly bent, and two hands covering his crotch.
“I need to pee,” he chokes out.
“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Jisung says. He checks his phone again. “We still have plenty of time. No big deal, you’re fine!”
Jisung is being overly reassuring and it’s annoying even to himself. He can only imagine how annoying he must sound to Minho.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Minho asks.
Good point.
Jisung has no clue, but he walks back to where Minho is clenching himself, steers his shoulders around and marches them back the way they came. Jisung swears he saw a bathroom a few minutes ago.
They wander, hallway after hallway. Jisung can’t tell if it’s been 30 seconds or 30 minutes. Minho is kind of hunched over now and they haven’t seen a soul since they exited the elevator. Jisung thinks for a moment that they may have taken the broken elevator that transports you to another dimension, or perhaps the elevator fell down the shaft and this is hell.
Minho keeps stopping to squeeze his legs together and do a little squat-dance-bounce type thing.
“Jisung, I really, really, have to pee,” he says.
“We’re almost there, it’s okay. Just hold it a little bit longer.”
“I’m going to pee my pants.” His voice is stone cold.
“You’re fine, it’s just up ahead.” Jisung doesn’t know if that’s true, but Minho just has to believe it’s close; to believe that there’s hope. “Just tell yourself you don’t have to pee.”
“But I do have to pee!” Minho says shrilly, cold calmness evaporated just like that.
“It’s like tricking your brain. If you say it enough, you’ll stop having to go,” Jisung insists.
Minho huffs. “That’s not how it—”
Jisung steers them right, on a whim, and miraculously, at the end of the hall, there’s a small sign sticking out with a modern-looking icon of a man.
“See?” Jisung starts walking (pushing Minho) faster.
They get to the door and nearly fall on it, ramming into it with their combined body weight.
It doesn’t budge.
Minho flips around and leans his back to the door, and Jisung puts both hands up to help him push.
“It’s just—“ Jisung pushes harder. “Stuck!”
Minho slides down to sit on his heels. “I’m going to pee my pants,” he repeats.
“Stop saying that! You’re fine! Let’s just find another.” His voice sounds shrill. Jisung is getting affected by the vibes again; he’s barely holding back full-on panic. But has to try to stay calm for Minho and keep the goal in mind.
He yanks Minho up as best he can, but Minho is hunched over nearly at a right angle. Jisung has the fleeting thought that he might sprain his back, but he knows the only way to solve the problem is to keep walking. They can’t stop.
They go down another fuckass hallway that somehow leads to another dead end.
He pauses and Minho falls to his knees again. He folds over himself and rests his forehead on the white marble floor.
“Minho-yah, think straight!” Jisung is speaking slightly above normal volume, but it sounds super loud in these echoey hallways.
“I’m peeing my pants.” He moans.
“No you’re not. You can hold it. Just hold it!” Jisung might be kind of freaking out. This is not going how he wanted today to go. He was supposed to be the responsible one! He can’t lose control of the situation. To lose it now would be admitting—no, welcoming—failure.
Minho unfolds himself and pulls up the flap of his suit jacket that’s covering his crotch. “No really. Look…” Minho sounds so tired.
Jisung drops to his knees to see. There’s a tiny little spot on the front of his trousers. His suit is charcoal gray, so it’s almost impossible to see, but it’s there.
“Minho, you can hold it. Let’s just—“ Jisung whips his head around; they’re in a dead end and there’s marble everywhere he looks. “There must be a potted plant somewhere or a trash can to pee in. Let’s go find one.”
Jisung pulls at Minho’s arm and stands up. Minho is clutching to his front. “Jisung…” He moans.
“Just think straight! You are not peeing your pants.”
“I’m going to piss all over myself and ruin the interview and fucking fail and never get a job.” He’s rambling now.
“Stop it! You are not!” Jisung pulls Minho along the wall, trying to make any progress at all. It’s hard with the dead weight hanging off of him. Jisung wishes he worked out more.
“Will you support me when I’m unemployed? No, that wouldn’t be fair. Just kick me out and make me homeless, then I’ll pee my pants all day every day. They’ll call me the pee man around town…”
Jisung can’t help but laugh at that. “Minho! What are you talking about, it’s fine. I’m not kicking you out.”
Minho stops in his tracks, stopping Jisung as well since they are half hugging, half walking, leaning against the wall for support.
“Jisung.” His fingers dig into Jisung’s biceps. “How many trash cans have you seen on this floor?”
Jisung doesn’t say anything. They both know the answer.
“How many plants?”
Jisung can’t make his voice work. This is indeed very dire.
A shiver wracks through Minho’s body, and he says, “I can’t hold it anymore.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m going.”
“Wait!” Jisung grabs Minho’s crotch and squeezes with all his might.
Minho’s eyes shoot open. “Jesus Christ, what?”
It’s a split-second decision. But it’s the only response that will do. Jisung must take responsibility for the situation he caused. He won’t let Minho down.
“Pee in my pants!” Jisung says, quick, and all in one breath. He stares into Minho’s eyes, and he doesn’t blink.
Minho’s eyes get impossibly wider.
He takes a shallow breath. “If you’re going to wet your pants, wet mine.”
Minho seems to be short-circuiting. Jisung continues.
“You’ll still be able to go to your interview. Plus your suit is vintage Gucci and my cargo pants will be much easier to clean. Please, Minho. Pee in my pants.”
To make sure Minho knows he’s serious, Jisung unbuttons the top button of his pants. He loves these pants; they were perfectly baggy, and they had a big red logo on the butt that made him feel the perfect amount of slutty, but they will be fine in the washer. The light tan color would certainly show wetness, but he’ll never come here again, so who cares if a few people see a little bit of a wet mark on his pants? Jisung ignores the surge of blood in his dick when the thought crosses his mind.
He is cool, he’s unaffected. This is fine. He’s being the cool dependable roommate for his best friend in his moment of need. It’s actually normal to have one or two dick throbs when thinking about peeing. Jisung is pretty sure of that.
“We just have to trade pants really quick. Take yours off, too.” Jisung feels weird, telling Minho to undress, but anything is better than the feeling of failure.
Jisung is still gripping Minho’s crotch in a pitiful attempt at stopping the waterfall (which Jisung is very cool about, by the way), so Minho swats Jisung’s hand away from his crotch and begins unzipping himself.
This is actually more than cool. This is just two bros, switching pants in the hallway of one of the bro’s future workplace. There probably aren’t any cameras, right?
“Fuck— the zipper!” Minho is struggling, so Jisung continues undoing his pants with his right hand and grabs Minho’s zipper with his other hand.
(If Jisung’s frequent nights at the club taught him anything, it’s how to quickly get someone’s fly open, even with only one hand.)
Jisung’s fingers brush against something warm and soft in Minho’s underwear, and the fabric is damp, humidity almost radiating off of the forbidden—
Jisung physically shakes his head to clear the thought. He cannot be thinking about Minho’s steamy, piss-damp cock right now. This is an emergency.
But again, he flounders. Jisung can’t hide his confusion at Minho pulling their crotches closer together and pulling at the little flap on the front of Jisung’s briefs.
“Minho! We don’t need to switch underwear, too?” His voice rises almost hysterically at the end. Jisung is starting to panic and his dick is half-hard already.
Minho’s little paws are still prodding and pulling at Jisung’s underwear. “What?” He asks distractedly.
“We have to switch pants while you pee, and then we can switch back—“
“I can’t hold it.” Minho’s gotten his cock out of his briefs and is scooching closer to Jisung.
Jisung feels desperate himself, though not from his bladder. What if Minho sees his dick? Judging by the hefty thing currently pointing at Jisung’s crotch, Minho outsizes him by more than a few centimeters. It’s at least 15 and it looks soft. Floppy.
Jisung erases that thought.
Minho pulls back his foreskin and inserts his cock into Jisung’s underwear. In the flap of Jisung’s underwear.
Alright, so this might not be cool anymore. He has no clue how to respond. So he just lets it happen.
The piss starts splattering over Jisung’s dick almost immediately. It’s as hot as bath water, and now Jisung is incredibly hard; Minho pawing at his crotch was bad, but his cock mere centimeters from Jisung’s dick is too much to bear.
“Sorry, I couldn’t—“ Minho hisses. “Hold it— ngh.”
Jisung shudders. The piss is quickly soaking the thin fabric of his briefs. This is not what he had meant when he suggested Minho pee his pants. He can’t believe how warm it is.
Meanwhile, Minho is groaning and whimpering, and somehow he’s right next to Jisung’s ear, so his warm breath is tickling Jisung and Jisung has the crazy thought that he might cum from getting pissed on. He feels dizzy.
“Nng— Are you,” Minho grunts. “Are you hard?”
Jisung glances down, and yes, his treacherous little boner is sticking straight out.
“No. Shut up,” Jisung whines.
“Ahh— fuck, fuck,” Minho is back to his attack on Jisung’s ear. “I feel so good. Hah— so much better.”
Jisung is squirming. It feels like Jisung is peeing his pants, but he’s not. Minho’s piss is torrential, warmth tumbling down over his penis, soaking his briefs, and puddling around the fabric below his balls.
The strange sensation that he’s also peeing must be some kind of psychological trick, a caveman instinct or something; probably engrained in his mind before his memory began.
It’s trickling down his legs now, and he can feel his ankles start to get warm, his socks soaking up the piss before it patters to the floor.
Jisung hisses. “Ah— Hyung… that—that took the edge off, right?”
Minho merely grunts in reply.
“Can you hold the rest? It’s getting on my legs.”
Minho moans at that.
“Can’t stop,” is all he says.
Jisung looks down. The front flap of his briefs is tented, stretched thin from his dick, which is harder than Jisung has ever experienced it to be. The fabric is almost translucent, and he feels embarrassed that his dick is so painfully, obviously hard. It’s like a smoking gun; he’s caught red-handed. Why is he hard? This is so not the right time to be hard.
He can’t believe this is how Minho is being introduced to his dick. It was always different in Jisung’s imagination. A lot less… pissful…
Minho pinches his dick to stem the flow. Jisung thinks it’s finally, mercifully, over but Minho just adjusts his aim, so that the head of his cock is pointed at Jisung’s pubes, and lets loose again.
Now the piss is creeping up the front panel of his briefs, up to the waistband. It’s spreading fast, darkening the light camel fabric of his pants around the buttons, and while it probably would have been visible no matter what, it almost seems like Minho is purposefully marking the front of his pants like some sort of fucked up cat.
Jisung’s dick lets out an unauthorized drop of precum. He figures it won’t be visible—what with all the piss, and also, it’s not like Minho was going to bend over and look at his soaked, dirty panties.
Another unauthorized dribble.
Jisung can feel the flow begin to weaken. His briefs are so drenched with piss that Jisung is sure they can’t hold a drop more, and his wet socks feel squishy in his shoes.
Jisung glances down self-consciously, and realizes Minho is also gazing down, watching the dark spots grow under his careful aim. The piss stains are so obvious, everyone is going to think that Jisung pissed his pants. He feels embarrassment hot in his throat, and his dick flexes once, reflexively. Betraying his inner thoughts about this turn of events.
“Hyung, don’t look!” Jisung whines and tries to use his hand to cover up his boner.
“It’s okay, jagi. Hyung is hard too.”
Jisung’s mouth actually falls open when he looks, really looks, at Minho’s cock. It’s certainly big. Jisung thinks it might be bigger than before, but he’s not sure. Because he wasn’t really looking. Because, like, why would he look at his best bro’s dick?
Minho tugs a few times at his dick, which is still slotted between the flaps of Jisung’s briefs. Jisung has the fleeting sense of disappointment that he can’t see the head of his cock, the foreskin bunched around the ridge, pulling and scrunching with each careful tug. The shaft is beautiful, thick, and is that a mole on the top side? Wait, no. He’s not looking.
“It felt so good, Hyung feels so good,” he continues.
Jisung can’t believe his eyes. They’re standing in this hallway, he’s got Minho’s piss all over him, and now Minho is slowly, casually jerking his dick into his soaking wet panties.
Minho’s grip on his arm tightens.
“Jagi,” he breathes and his lips are brushing against Jisung’s cheek. “I can’t take the test like this.”
Jisung’s cheeks burn. What was Minho saying?
“I gotta get rid of my boner.” He breathes into Jisung’s ear.
This is a line. A little piss between bros, emergency situations, sometimes life calls for pissing in your roommate’s pants. It was the only responsible course of action. But if Jisung lets this happen… if he lets him… Jisung won’t be able to keep being chill. Or pretend like this never happened. His eyes burn with …tears? Why is he crying?
“Please, jagi, let Hyung come.” Minho sounds desperate.
“Hyung!” Jisung squeaks.
“Your pants are already so dirty, baby.” He begs. “What’s a little cum going to do?”
Jisung feels weak in the knees; this is too much, and Minho doesn’t stop. “Your pants are soaked, maybe even ruined.” He’s still jerking off into Jisung’s soaked underwear. Minho grunts. “So— wet. And— Fuck.”
“Wait!” Jisung says.
Minho freezes immediately, but doesn’t retract his dick or let go of Jisung’s arm.
“I have to go, too.” Jisung says. His eyes sting with tears, and he blinks two, three times. But he looks up pleadingly at Minho through his wet lashes.
Minho resumes jacking off just as fervently as he had been. “Of course, honey, of course. Go ahead,” he says. He sounds almost blissful. Relieved.
“No, Hyung! It’s too dirty…” Jisung whines. His underwear feels cold now, and the fabric is itchy where it clings to his ass and waist.
“Jagi, respectfully, your pants are already covered with my piss.” Minho laughs.
“Hyung!”
“It’s okay, jagi, just go. Nobody will be able to tell now. You can blame it all on Hyung, even if it’s your piss too.”
Jisung looks into Minho’s eyes. His best friend. Roommate. Would this change their relationship? There was no guidebook for this, no WikiHow. He had no clue what you were supposed to do when your friend pisses in your pants and then asks to cum on your dick.
But Jisung’s dick is saying what he is too afraid to say out loud—he liked it. He liked it so, so much. This is one of those things that he would think about sometimes, when he was alone, dick in hand. But he has never admitted that he has a full blown… piss kink. Nor did he ever think his fantasies might become reality.
Jisung steels himself, scrunches his eyes shut, and pushes.
His bladder throbs. He wasn’t lying about needing to pee. But his dick is painfully hard, so it’s a bit difficult to get the pee out.
“I’m too hard,” Jisung says, and he drops his eyes to their crotches.
Minho is still jerking off. He shifts slightly, so his dick is rubbing up against Jisung’s. The tip of Minho’s dick is sliding along Jisung’s shaft, and it’s surprisingly slippery. Jisung feels sticky everywhere else, probably from drying pee. But their dicks are sliding together nicely now, slick with precum.
Jisung lets out a little ‘ha’ when the pressure on his dick begins to feel really good. He’s momentarily distracted from having to pee, and the desire to give in and cum overpowers his aching bladder (and his common sense).
Jisung shoves his hand into his briefs.
If he’s going to be pissed on and came on, he is going to get something out of it, too, god damnit!
Jisung wraps a hand around himself, and his knuckles brush against something warm and squishy. A shiver of electricity vibrates through his hand and up his arm. His skin breaks out into goosebumps, and it’s from more than just the cold fabric clinging to his skin. He clenches his eyes shut again.
“Minho,” he says, a warning in his tone.
“Aww, I liked it when you called me Hyung,” Minho says, fake disappointment light in his tone.
Jisung burns red. They’re the same age, he doesn’t know why he even called him that. And Minho went along with it, too. God, how embarrassing. He increases the pressure of his hand. His fist nearly covers his whole length, and his index finger and thumb make a tight ring on the head of his dick as he moves his hand over himself. Jisung can’t help but moan.
“Close already, baby?” Minho teases, but he starts moving his hand faster. “You were hard the second I put my dick in your panties.”
Jisung whines and matches Minho’s speed with his own hand.
“You liked it when Hyung pissed on your little boner?” He continues. “Did you like feeling dirty?”
Jisung’s orgasm comes fast. Faster than he expected, and it’s almost painful, his bladder contracting with the muscles in his lower stomach. He feels a sense of relief as the cum pushes through the fabric of his underwear. He pants as he looks down at the white cum oozing out.
Minho slowed down when Jisung came, but he begins stroking in earnest when Jisung’s hand comes to a halt, still wrapped around his dick.
Jisung finally speaks, throat hoarse from all of his erratic breathing. “I liked it.”
He looks up at Minho’s face.
“And I liked when Hyung begged me to let him come,” he adds.
“Hnng— Please, jagi, please, please, please. Let Hyung come, please, pl—” Minho starts babbling.
“I told you! Jagi has to pee first!” Jisung says, cutting him off.
Jisung pulls his briefs down with his other hand and angles his dick so that it’s on top of Minho’s (still raging) boner.
Careful to make sure none of his piss gets on Minho’s pants, Jisung lets his bladder free. It feels so good, so disgusting, he’s still half hard, everything is sticky. His piss comes out a cloudy mixture of cum and pee at first, but it quickly clears up into a transparent stream.
Minho and Jisung’s heads are glued together, both of them staring intently at Jisung’s little cock spurting piss onto Minho’s huge dick as he jacks off into the soiled fabric below Jisung’s balls.
Their breaths are fast and heavy, something floating and mixing between their bodies.
Jisung is pushing out the last few dribbles, about to tell Minho that he can cum, when Minho resumes his garbled half-whispered babbling.
“You did so well, perfect, so good for me.” He pulls tight and fast near the head of his cock. “Hyung is going to come now,” he moans. “Can I? Please?”
Jisung shakes his dick to get out the final drops of piss, making sure they land on Minho’s hand.
“Fuck—agh!” Minho cries. “I can’t— hold it!”
A massive spurt of cum erupts from the head of Minho’s cock. It sprays across Jisung’s dirty panties. Minho moves his dick slightly, and lets out another rope of cum across Jisung’s hand and now-softening penis. He continues, marking Jisung’s entire crotch with cum.
When it seems to be slowing down, Jisung takes Minho’s dick in hand, and pulls it, milking the last few drops and wiping it onto the front of his pants. The white globs look incredible against the piss-soaked dark brown fabric.
Jisung feels like he’s thinking through cotton. He vaguely registers that he’s holding Minho’s dick. In his hand. And milking it for cum.
They’re both panting, half laughing, all blissful and giddy. Riding the high for now, in this strange marble hallway.
Jisung gathers himself to say, “I can’t believe we didn’t get caught!”
He looks up at Minho, grinning.
Minho is looking back at him, just as happy.
“Thank you, Jisung.” He says, simply.
“Of course. I’d do anything for you, Minho.” Jisung says.
Minho starts stuffing his monster cock back into his pants.
“Here,” Jisung says. “Wipe your hands on my pants.”
Minho smirks. “Thanks. They are pretty dirty already,” he says.
They both wipe the cum from their hands as best they can on the parts of his pants that aren’t covered in pee. Jisung uses his clean hand to help Minho zip back up, and shockingly, there wasn’t a drop of pee or cum spilled on Minho’s vintage Gucci suit.
They start down the hallway again on wobbly legs, because Minho still has a job interview, and they don’t have much time left anymore to find the right floor.
“It’s so lucky I was here!” Jisung remarks.
“I can never thank you enough,” Minho says, pulling Jisung into his side with an arm around his shoulders.
Jisung blushes, and feels so pleased that his quick thinking was able to save the day.
“Seriously,” he continues, pushing his lips into Jisung’s hair. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Hyung,” Jisung says.
Minho laughs. “You don’t have to keep calling me Hyung anymore.”
“I like ‘Hyung,’ though.” Jisung mumbles.
“I like you too, jagi.” Minho laughs.
Jisung’s heart is thudding so loudly, he’s sure it's echoing off the marble walls.
They arrive at the end of the hallway.
Jisung gasps.
Magically, miraculously, an exit door leading to a stairwell sits directly in front of them.
“I can’t believe we didn’t find this earlier!” Jisung says.
Minho nods, and pushes the door open. “Yeah, that would have been so much easier,” he responds. Jisung can’t read his tone, though.
Minho doesn’t let go of Jisung, even when they have to awkwardly shuffle around the landing of the stairs. When they exit the stairwell, everything is different. The floors are carpeted, walls are painted; the place is lush, full of art and plants and soft white light. Not a slab of marble in sight.
And there are people—people everywhere! Right away, someone comes to them and asks if they’re here for the interview. Minho smiles and shakes their hand, and Jisung politely ducks over to the bathroom, content to wait for Minho in one of the stalls.
He locks the door behind him. A pleasant hum of contentment settles over his body.
Despite his initial hesitation, and his worries about crossing a line, Minho seems completely normal about this. He seems just as happy as Jisung feels. And he said he likes him? Was that real?
Maybe everything will be different, and maybe everything will feel the same. As long as they are happy, does it really matter?
One thing is for sure: Minho will definitely get this job, and it’s all thanks to Jisung’s quick thinking. Minho is going to be forever grateful.
Maybe while Minho is at the interview, Jisung can brainstorm all the ways Minho can repay him.
Jisung smiles, and waits.