Chapter Text
The streets are bathed in the faint orange light of streetlights as Minho walks with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. The cold wind bites at his skin, but he barely notices it over the thoughts swirling around his head.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and considers what to do. It’s late and he doesn’t want to see anyone else, so he opens up Jisung’s chat.
‘Can I see you? I just need to talk to someone.’
Jisung’s reply doesn’t come immediately, and Minho continues walking aimlessly for a while before his phone buzzes.
‘Where are you?’
Minho exhales a sigh of relief, his breath visible in the cold as he looks around, trying to figure out the answer to that question. It seems he had automatically been heading toward Jisung’s house.
‘5 minutes away,’ he texts back.
He arrives at Jisung’s house, and the lights are all off, which is to be expected for early hours of the morning. Minho goes around the back and sees Jisung waiting there, hoodie pulled over his head, his face pale and concerned under the glow of the streetlight.
“Hey,” Jisung says softly, taking one look at Minho’s face and frowning. “What happened?”
Minho shrugs, not trusting himself to speak yet. He gestures for them to start walking and Jisung falls into step beside him. They don’t say anything at first, the breeze rustling the leaves and the sound of gravel crunching beneath their shoes are the only sounds filling the silence.
It’s only when they pass a convenience store that Minho stops, glancing at the brightly lit windows. “You hungry?” he asks, his voice slightly hoarse.
Inside, the fluorescent lights are too harsh after the warm, soft lighting of the night outside. Minho grabs a couple of instant noodle cups and two banana milks and pays without much thought. He hands one of each to Jisung as they head back outside, the contrast between the store’s warmth and the cold wind is clear.
The two of them find a park nearby and sit side-by-side on a bench.
Jisung waits patiently for Minho to start speaking as he shovels noodles into his mouth.
“They don’t care about anything I do,” Minho sighs, staring into the distance. He doesn’t want to look at Jisung because then he might chicken out of finally opening up.
“The competition is in less than two months and I need the entry fee and I promised I’d pay them back, but they just said it’s a waste of money. I told them how important it is – I mean, scholarships, opportunities, but they didn’t even look at me when they said no.”
Jisung takes another bite of his noodles, not interrupting.
“They don’t care about my dancing. They don’t care about anything I do, really. It’s like I’m just… there. A slight inconvenience they have to remember to feed,” Minho sets his cup down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands. “It’s not even about the money, I’m just so sick of feeling like nothing I do matters.”
Jisung doesn’t respond immediately. He first takes a sip of his milk, sets the container aside and leans back against the bench. “You matter.”
Minho turns to look at him, an expression of exhaustion and disbelief.
“I mean it,” Jisung continues, meeting his gaze. “Your parents might not see it, but you do. It’s obvious to anyone paying attention.”
The words settle heavily between them, sinking into Minho’s mind. He feels that strange fluttery feeling he always gets in his chest when he’s around Jisung, and the tension in his shoulders loosens a little.
Jisung smiles faintly and nudges him. “And, if you need help with the entry fee, I’d be happy to pitch in. You know I have the money.”
Minho blinks, startled by the offer. Something feels wrong about accepting money from a friend like that. “I can’t ask you to do that-“
“You didn’t ask, I offered,” Jisung interrupts. “Just…think of it as a last resort. I’m not letting you back out of that competition.”
They finish their noodles and milk in comfortable silence, the air between them less tense than before. When they start walking again, Jisung keeps the conversation going and Minho just listens, smiling softly and enjoying the sound of his voice. By the time they part ways for the night, Minho is feeling a little less alone. He almost believes it – that he matters, at least to Jisung. And maybe that’s enough.
☆ ~ { 🚬 } ~ ☆
Minho stands in front of the mirror, surrounded by his teammates as the music starts. The base vibrates through the studio floor and for a moment, Minho is able to lose himself in the beat. Dance has always been his escape – his way of drowning out everything else, but tonight, his focus wavers.
Jisung’s face keeps flashing through his mind. His laugh, the way he shovelled noodles into his mouth like it was his last meal. Jisung seemed to really let his true colours out last night, so much brighter and more vibrant than Minho expected. It’s not like Minho to fixate on someone, not like this. But Jisung is different. Unpredictable, grounding but distracting at the same time.
His feelings make him nervous, especially as his mind starts wandering to other thoughts, like how pretty Jisung looked in the soft orange glow of the streetlight.
“Minho, you’re on the wrong beat!” Yeji’s sharp voice snaps him out of his thoughts.
He freezes for a second, realizing he’s a step ahead of everyone else. The others pause and Yeji cuts off the music and fixes him with a pointed stare. “What’s with you today?”
“I’m fine,” Minho replies quickly, avoiding her gaze.
“No, you’re not,” Yeji presses.
“I said I’m fine,” Minho repeats, his tone much sharper than he intended. The room is too quiet and he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to meet Yeji’s eyes. “I’ll get it right this time,” he says, softer.
Yeji hesitates, but nods. “Okay. You need to focus.”
The music starts again and Minho throws himself into the choreography, determined not to mess up. His movements are precise, but the emotion feels forced and his flow is uncomfortable. Either way, he manages to continue without error. His mind continues to pull him back to Jisung as much as he tries to force it away. Jisung’s started to fill a space in Minho’s life he didn’t know was empty, and it scares him.
By the end of practice, Minho is drenched in sweat. The atmosphere feels tense, but he’s not sure if he’s just making it up. Yeji gives him a pat on the shoulder as she walks by to take a drink of water. “Whatever’s going on, figure it out,” she says, calm but firm. “You’re too good to let something like this distract you.”
As the others leave, Minho nods but doesn’t reply.
When Minho gets home, he tries to sleep but ends up just laying on his back in his bed, mind rushing with thoughts.
He feels too strongly for Jisung too quickly. It’s like he fills a void in Minho’s life he didn’t even know was empty, and it makes Minho feel uneasy. He can’t be so dependent on Jisung.
Minho wasn’t meant to get attached, they weren’t even meant to be friends, just people who occasionally smoked together.
He sighs. He can’t feel like this.