mishiuiui
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“I’m not a brat,” Jisung mutters. This isn’t going how he hoped.
Minho just raises a brow.
“I’m not,” Jisung insists again although this time it comes out more like a whine.
“You’re not in a position to decide that, but I would be remiss as your handler to not acknowledge the work you’ve put in these past few weeks.”
Jisung’s eyes go wide. Minho offers him a genuine smile and well, Minho is beautiful and Jisung is just a man. The thought of Minho noticing him in a positive fashion makes him pulse in a new way. He shifts in his seat.
“You think I’ve been good?” Jisung asks.
“Don’t fish for compliments, it’s unbecoming of a prince.”
OR: Jisung is sent to a faraway kingdom for the summer to strengthen his diplomacy skills. Minho is appointed as his handler.
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Minho sighs. “Put yourself in my shoes, Bin. You see incriminating photos of your best friend. You realize you’ve been in love with your best friend for ages. You can’t stop touching your dick while thinking about your best friend— and now you’re just supposed to hang out with your best friend like everything is fine?!”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Changbin’s voice moves away from the receiver. Like he’s taking a lap. Minho doesn’t blame him. “You’re literally, like, the stupidest, gayest motherfucker I know.”
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“Jisung,” Jeongin called before he left the room. “This is super cliché, but—I believe in soulmates. Sometimes, life gets hard and weaves them apart, and it might take a few lifetimes to cross paths again, but in the end, they always find each other. When they’re together, that connection is undeniable. I’m just curious, but—do you think that’s true?”
Jisung felt his throat close up, and the tears he was trying to hold back broke free.
“I think it could be.”
Or what happens when Jisung and Minho meet again after eight years.
Bookmarked by mishiuiui
12 Oct 2024
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In a split second he’s whipping the material, slapping it against Jisung’s thigh with a crack. He whimpers in pain and Minho has to twist his other hand into a fist to stop himself from grabbing him.
“Hyung’s mean,” Jisung mumbles as he gets back into position, reaching forward to grab the handles of the weight machine. Minho makes his way up behind him, back against his chest, and lays his chin on the younger’s shoulder.
“Hyung will be nice,” he mutters up against the younger’s ear, relishing in the shiver that travels down his spine. “Just be good.”
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It’s natural—the way a volcano is natural, an ever-present threat, even when dormant, and yet people continue to build homes and lives around it. The way they don’t escape from it, only prepare as best as they can so that when fire and lava come flowing down, they’ll be ready.
Minho can only ever hope for that.
or: a study of color, fire, and love.