WHEN WE WERE YOUNGER. banginho

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Mango.

Mango and strawberry.

Minho never used to like either fruit, quite honestly. Strawberries were always too sweet, and mangoes too tangy. There was never a perfect combination of the two.

Except for maybe Jisung Han. Snarky, with the right amount of kindness, he might've been the only person in the world who could make the two flavors work well in a chapstick.

Minho sat up a little bit, separating them. "Are you sure you don't wanna talk about it?"

Jisung stared up at him, chest rising and falling steadily. He smirked gently up at Minho. "We can talk later." 

Minho gave him a skeptical look, moving away. Jisung's smile fell and he grabbed onto Minho's sleeve pleadingly. "I just got a low grade on my test, s'all. Please. Kissy buddy. You're supposed to help me out here."

Once look at Jisung's sheepish smile and Minho gave in.

They were friends. Weird friends, but friends nonetheless. Ever since Chan left years before, Minho had a hard time making best friends. He still didn't know if he had one, but if he were to guess, Jisung would be the closest thing to it.

No, they didn't like each other. 
They liked kissing each other. 

Being hormonal teenagers had its perks. Wanting a not alone buddy just happened to be one of them. So that's what they were. Lonely. They were just…. less lonely together.

It wasn't right, they knew that, but something about the way Jisung's mouth felt on his- the way his hands perfectly fit against the side of his face and in his hair- it was entirely addicting. 

Jisung's hand roamed along the back pocket hem of Minho's skinny jeans, and could feel when he shivered at the touch. Minho felt him smile softly, and rolled over off the couch, a grin on his own lips. Jisung peeked over the edge at him, and Minho made grabby hands.

"Okay I see how it is." 
Jisung slid off the sofa and laid down on the carpeted floor beside Minho. "I don't know. I'm comfortable now. Do I really want to kiss you?"

"You're a douche." 

"I know." Jisung said, linking their hands. The two of them stared up at the cream painted ceiling, calming down in one another's presence.

Maybe they were just really out of it, or maybe Minho's parents were trying to be sneaky. Either way, they were supposed to be at work and they weren't.

Minho let his eyes fall closed to the feeling of Jisung gently rubbing his thumb across the skin of his wrist. He would've drifted off if not for the shocked gasp that came from the doorway of the family room.

He felt Jisung's hand rip away from his own and the floorboards creaked from where the other male had been laying.

Minho's eyes flew open. Jisung was standing up, eyes widened at the entryway. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to form words. "Hi, Mrs. And Mr. Lee."

His heart hammered in his ears. Minho knew they weren't paying attention to Jisung. He could feel their gazes burning holes into him as he sat up. Still, he couldn't lift his eyes to look at them. He and Jisung had only been holding hands, barely even touching, but their lips were probably swollen and their hair mussed. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"Minho just offered to have me over today, and we were tired, so,"

With every word that came flying from Jisung's lips, Minho felt himself shrinking more and more.

"Jisung?" Minho's father cleared his throat and finally addressed the blabbering teen. Jisung froze like a deer in the headlights. "Kindly excuse yourself, please."

Jisung shot an apologetic glance down at his friend whose breathing was becoming shallow and irregular. As much as he wanted to be there for Minho, it really wasn't his place. He'd benefit him more by leaving. He grabbed his schoolbag and hurried past the Lee's without another word.

Minho knew it was best that Jisung had left, but he felt as though he was drowning and the last lifeboat just rowed away. Finally, he gathered the courage to look up, forcing a deep breath into his lungs and praying he didn't burst into tears.

The look on his parents faces was just.. indescribable.

A mix of horror and shock and, for lack of a better word, betrayal.

They sat in tense silence. No one dared to say anything that they may regret later; they didn't know what they would say if they could.

Minho dealt with it as long as he could, but he was getting desperate. He felt as though he was suffocating under their harsh gazes and his mind was rushing a million miles a minute.

"Can I just-" Minho hated the waver in his voice as he stood up, pushing past his parents.

"Minho-" His mom started, but was held back by his dad. They watched as he took the stairs three at a time, trying not to stumble.

Once in the safety of his room, Minho whipped out his phone and with shaky hands, managed to type in his password.

There was only one person he could think of at the moment.
Only one person he needed.
Minho slunk into his closet and sank to the floor against the closed door to the ringing of the phone.

Finally, they picked up.
"Hey." Was all Minho could manage, too choked up to think properly.

"Hiya stranger."

His knight had an Australian accent now.

- - - - - - - -

:3

Zoom? Idk her sorry.

Stream painkiller by ruel for the minsung vibes here 😔✌ we stan platonic buddy bros that kiss sometimes-