Work Text:
say goodnight
(i'll go towards you with no hesitation
and give all of me to you)
Jisung hadn’t realised how good Minho was at dancing. The extent of his expertise was confined to the grinding they did in the clubs, and the goofy dancing they did in one of their apartments at ridiculous times of the day with some music playing in the background and the lights off.
Sure, even during these times, Jisung knows Minho is a good dancer. Can tell by how Minho swivels his hips, how neatly he spins and lands on both feet, how far Jisung can push his legs up against his chest. But – Jisung has never seen Minho truly performing, in his element on stage, all dolled up and with moves armed to kill.
So when Minho invites him to one of the showcases his dance studio is putting on, Jisung accepts immediately.
“You might be caught on camera,” Minho says, tapping on his phone to show Jisung a past video his studio has recorded before. “We – the dancers – can invite anyone we want, so they just sit around the sides like this… and we go up in turns to dance.”
“This has millions of views!” Jisung exclaims, pressing on one that’s a cover dance of Physical and scrolling along the video until it’s Minho that’s dancing. There are two other dancers in the frame on either side of Minho, two paces behind him and from the cheers that go up as they start to dance, Jisung can easily see how good Minho must be for even professional dancers to cheer him on like that.
Jisung can’t tear his eyes away.
Minho hits each move precisely, flowing from one movement to the next with such ease that he makes it look effortless. He alternates between soft and hard movements, makes the transition seamless, moves from one to the next like the continuous motion of waves. Watching him dance is breath-taking.
He’s about to agree to go and watch Minho perform, mouth ready and open to say the words when the video ends –
And the rolling credits catch his eye. Choreography by Im Mina and Lee Minho. He had missed the opening screen where they credited the team.
Choreography by Im Mina and Lee Minho.
Lee Minho. The same man sitting in front of him on his own bed with a shy, expecting smile and bright eyes, swathed in a large sweater and legs bare with how his shorts have ridden up. The very same man who had his cap pulled low and sleeveless shirt flashing strips of skin in the video that is playing on the phone right now.
“So… what do you think?” Minho asks when the credits finish rolling and Jisung puts his phone down. “Do you want to come and watch?”
“You look so happy dancing there,” Jisung says thoughtfully, turns to Minho and leans into his side.
Minho blinks a few times in his confusion but curls an arm around Jisung; is this his habit to blink so rapidly? Jisung has seen him do this so many times already. Or has he just been looking at Minho a lot more now, conscious of his actions?
“I want to see you being this happy.”
“You see me happy very often already.”
“I still want to see you happier… I’ll go to your performance, baby.”
The smile on Minho’s face is something he sees every day, but it is still so special, no matter how many times he sees it.
“Thank you!”
He wants to see it for the rest of his life.
The studio is buzzing with excitement and adrenaline when Minho and Jisung walk in. It’s late in the morning, and Minho’s spent part of the morning going over his dancing and then part of the morning drawing his eyeliner before jamming a cap on his head.
“No one can see your eye makeup, baby,” Jisung says, pulls Minho in for a kiss.
“My eye makeup is for me,” Minho replies, then giggles as he wipes a little lip tint off Jisung’s mouth. “My mouth is wet, star. Leave it for a bit then kiss me again.”
Jisung laughs, sits back on Minho’s bed to let Minho change. When he’s done, he cashes in on Minho’s promise and they had set off for the studio after that. Now that they’re actually in the studio, Jisung can’t help but let the excitement affect him too, squeezing Minho’s hand tightly as they make their way through the crowd of people.
“Minho!” One of the dancer cries, comes and greets them. “You’re here! And – oh, is this the man you’re always talking about?”
“Noona!” Minho hisses as Jisung suppresses a laugh.
“I’m Han Jisung, it’s nice to meet you,” Jisung says, offers a hand for her to shake.
“I’m Kang Seulgi,” The woman says, smiling back at him and shakes his hand. “I’m one of the dancers here at the studio too! You’re here to support Minho, right?”
“Yes,” Jisung says, squeezes Minho’s hand once more. “Please take care of us, we’ll be in your care!”
“Of course, don’t worry about it!” Seulgi says, “Do you want to meet more of the dancers? I’m sure Minho will introduce them to you – we still have half an hour until the recording starts, so feel free to mingle around the room.”
She leaves then, responding to someone that is apparently calling for her, and Jisung leans in to whisper in Minho’s ear.
“You’ve been talking about me?”
Minho rolls his eyes, tugs Jisung alone further into the crowd. “Yes, about how your apartment is always a mess and you never pick me up on time for your dates.”
“Aww,” Jisung says, then lets go of Minho’s hand to curl an arm around his waist instead. “Wanna say that again?”
“Without hesitation,” Minho says, but Jisung can feel the line of his shoulders melt, and he strokes the side of Minho’s waist comfortingly.
“Soonyoung-hyung!” Minho calls, and a man with a shock of blond hair looks up from where he’s fiddling with a laptop.
“Minho!” Soonyoung cries, bounds over and gives Minho a hug. “You’ve arrived! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I texted the chat,” Minho says, laughing, “but I think you haven’t read it yet. Hyung, this is Jisung – Jisung, this is Soonyoung-hyung.”
“Oh, the Jisung you’re always talking about?” Soonyoung says innocently, and Jisung tries not to laugh again.
“I’m the one,” Jisung says and then shakes Soonyoung’s hand too. “It’s nice to meet you! Minho’s been telling me stories about you.”
“Only good things, I hope?” Soonyoung says with a shake in his voice like he’s about to start laughing.
With Soonyoung to accompany them, more and more dancers are introduced to Jisung, who hadn’t thought that his face-name recognition would be tested to the limits today. Still, thirty minutes passes relatively quickly, and then the dancers and the spectators are told to separate so the recording can start.
“Good luck, and have fun, baby,” Jisung says quietly, presses a quick kiss to the corner of Minho’s mouth, stained red with tint.
“I will!” Minho says, already beaming, and then he disappears into the myriad of dancers, leaving Jisung to pick out a spot in the audience near the back of the studio.
He chats to some of the people sitting around him, making easy conversation as they wait for the dancers to finish setting up. Some of them are new dancers in the studio, some of them are like him and here to support their friends or partners, and some of them are other dancers that have decided to sit out for this performance.
There’s an amiable and excitable tension in the air, and then someone shouts a, “The recording has started!” as the dancers take their place, and a chorus of cheers goes up in the air.
The first pair to go up is Soonyoung and another dancer called Mijoo, and the beginning of Exhale starts to pump through the speakers. Like they’re channelling the electrifying atmosphere of the studio, they move through the moves easily, hitting each pose with their own flair that makes the room cheer for them again.
They finish up – and then it’s Minho’s turn. He goes up with Seulgi, and Jisung can’t help himself, cheers loudly along with the crowd.
Even though Minho has his cap pulled low, Jisung can make out his assured expression, and he tries not to smile too much. Then Minho starts dancing, and his jaw drops.
Sure, he’s seen Minho dancing before, has watched basically all of the videos on the studio’s channel that feature Minho, but that was through a screen. To sit here and actually watch Minho dance – that is completely different.
The energy that Minho gives off is ridiculous.
Perhaps Jisung is biased, but he thinks Minho’s dancing is the best. There is confidence in how he smirks for the camera to record; there is strength in his thighs and he hits each move; there is fluidity in between the transitions and the way he catches his cap when it falls off. He does everything so easily that it’s sexy, and it bleeds into the energy of the room, raises the tension even more.
There is a charisma and smoothness to Minho’s dancing that Jisung can’t take his eyes away from, and he finds himself cheering for Minho throughout the whole segment, and when Minho finally finishes, Jisung’s cheeks and throat hurt from both smiling too widely and cheering too loudly.
The rest of the recording goes by in a blur, and when it does finally end Jisung makes a beeline for Minho. He has to squeeze through the thronging of the crowd that is congratulating and complimenting the dancers, and when he does find his baby, he’s surrounded by a bunch of dancers.
“You were so cool up there,” One of the younger dancer gushes, “hyung, you dance so well! Can I have your schedule again, hyung? I want to attend one of your workshops!”
Minho laughs, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Shy, Jisung recognises, and smiles. He hangs back, waits a little – he has the rest of the day with Minho.
“Sure, I’ll send it to you! Thank you for coming today, I hope it’s been entertaining for you.”
Then before Minho can add anything else, there is a deluge of compliments from Soonyoung as well, who tackles Minho into a sweaty hug. The words soon merge into one another, and Jisung can only be happy – how can he not be? Minho, having had so much fun and now complimented endlessly for it that he’s smiling so brightly; this is Jisung’s heaven.
“You were so fucking handsome up there,” Jisung murmurs, voice low when they’re alone in the bathroom together later. Minho had said he wanted to change out of his sweaty clothes before they left to eat lunch, but now they’re pressed up against the sink together, Minho shirtless. “You danced so incredibly well, baby, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“You had fun?” Minho asks, still a little breathless.
“What do you think?” Jisung says, runs his hands down Minho’s arms and feels the muscles shift there. “God, I’ll ruin you when we get back.”
“Food first,” Minho says, pushing Jisung away slightly to wear a clean shirt. The tips of his ears burn red.
“Food first, bed later?” Jisung follows up, kisses the space behind Minho’s ear where he knows Minho is sensitive. As expected, Minho shivers with the action, and Jisung feels Minho’s nod with his mouth.
“Food first, bed later,” Minho repeats, a promise.
It’s over a lunch of bulgogi among various dishes that Jisung starts unloading his compliments and his whole experience in the studio as Minho listens, wide-eyed and inhaling the meat. He laughs when Jisung tells him how he clapped too early multiple times, and beams when Jisung says he’s had so much fun today.
“Well, you can always come again,” Minho offers. “The other dancers know you now as well, so you can come and watch one when you’re free! I’ll tell you about any recordings that we’re doing so you can see if you want to come.”
“I’d love to,” Jisung says, and holds Minho’s hand over the table.
They stop by another shop to share bingsu after lunch, and they have a back-and-forth as to whose apartment they should go to, and finally settle on Minho’s, just because it’s closer. The bingsu is flavoured with mango and cheesecake, and it melts so sweetly on Jisung’s tongue; it’s almost the same flavour as when he kisses Minho twenty minutes later in his apartment, but he still thinks Minho tastes sweeter – all the better for his sweet tooth.
They spend another night together.
The sheets that once smelled so new are now familiar to Jisung; the eyes that once held so many mysteries are now clear to Jisung; the hands that used to be a stranger to his own now fits perfectly like a perfect indentation has been made since the night they met.
Almost like a routine, Jisung kisses over the moonlight that dots Minho’s face when the night sets in. These silvered drops kiss Minho’s skin until it’s pearly even though his skin feels so warm under Jisung’s fingers and mouth.
“Kiss me,” Minho requests like he did ten months ago, and Jisung obliges, just like he did ten months ago.
They fall back into the home-familiar sheets once more, and the night blankets them protectively. For everything that they have found in each other, for the home that they have carved into each other, for the nights spent both together and alone - the night will always be their haven to return to.
It’s when Minho doesn’t wake up first that Jisung knows something is wrong. For all the nights that they have shared, Jisung can count on one hand how many times that I was him and not Minho that woke up first. He remembers them all because he spends the few minutes admiring Minho, then immediately attacking Minho’s face with kisses until Minho wakes up and shoves him away playfully.
Now, Jisung is about to do the same after he’s rubbed all the sleep out of his eyes – except that as his hand moves to cup Minho’s cheek, there is unnaturally warm heart radiating from his face. Like… a fever.
“Baby,” Jisung calls gently, threads his fingers through Minho’s messy hair. “Baby, wake up.”
“Mmh?” Minho groans, nuzzling further into Jisung’s chest.
Jisung tries not to let that get to him. “Your face is really warm, baby – are you feeling feverish?”
“So you finally admit I’m hot?” Minho asks, rolling over onto his back and cracking his eyes open just a little to look at Jisung.
“Thought we established that last night when I –“
“Okay!” Minho screeches, pulls the pillow from near his hips to throw at Jisung’s face. “It’s – nine a.m.! What do you want?”
“What do I want?” Jisung pretends to ask, throws a leg over Minho’s hips until he legs bracket Minho, palms braced beside Minho’s shoulders. “I want…”
Then Minho’s eyes widen, completely devoid of sleep now, and his mouth parts even though he says nothing; it’s a face Jisung has come to recognise very well these days. He just saw this face last night, when they were pressed together in the dimly lit stairwell of Minho’s apartment, kissing.
“I want… to know if you’re feeling feverish,” Jisung finishes cheerfully, moves until he’s sitting next to Minho instead. “Your face feels hot, baby, I want to take your temperature.”
“You’re no fun,” Minho says, pouts a little as Jisung gets up to grab the thermometer in the adjacent bathroom.
“As I recall, we had a lot of fun last night,” Jisung says when he returns, eyes the hickeys dotting Minho’s neck. “C’mon, let’s take your temperature.”
Minho obeys, sits up and lets Jisung put the thermometer in his mouth and they wait for the little beep! to sound first before Jisung checks it.
37.9°C.
“I think you’ve got a cold,” Jisung says, showing Minho the thermometer reading. “How do you feel? You've been working so hard for the performance, I think it's taken a toll on you.”
“Kind of tired,” Minho admits, “and my nose feels a little blocked.”
Jisung grins, wants to hide it but Minho catches it anyway.
“I’m tired not from last night, perv! I mean – I feel like I don’t have energy… I can’t remember the last time I fell sick though.”
“I was teasing you, baby. You should rest now,” Jisung says, leans in to kiss Minho’s forehead. “I’ll make something for you to eat, then let’s see how you feel, yeah?”
Minho sighs, nods, then settles back against his pillow. He looks a little restless.
“I’ll take care of you, baby,” Jisung says reassuringly, pulls the blankets up to Minho’s chin.
Minho bits down on his bottom lip, looks up at Jisung. “It’s… not exactly nice work, you know.” It may have been a long tine since he fell sick, but he remembers how his mother used to fuss over him, and how ill he really got. Jisung doesn’t need to see him like that.
“Not to me,” Jisung says, kisses Minho’s forehead again. His lips are cool against his heated forehead. “Not if it’s you.”
Then Jisung gets up, opens the windows to let fresh air in but closes the blinds so its sufficiently dark enough for Minho to rest. He leaves the bedroom door slightly ajar, and the gold of sunshine from outside squeezes in through the gap.
It feels oddly like love, Minho thinks, then goes back to seep in a dark room lit by just a soft beam of sunshine.
Jisung does not cook often. That is a fact. Jisung can also follow recipes pretty well. That is another fact (and a fact verified by Minho, thank you very much). Which is why he decides to make porridge and bean sprout soup for breakfast. Or lunch, by the looks of it. It should be something easy for Minho to eat, especially seeing that he’s down with what seems like a cold.
He misses Minho’s presence more than he thought possible as he starts cooking, even though he knows that Minho is just resting in the other room.
He misses the random things Minho suddenly says to him, something from the news or something that had happened at work. He misses the way Minho teaches him how to chop garlic or peel carrots easily. He misses how Minh would wrap his arms around his waist and kiss the lobe of his ear as their meal simmered away on the stove.
Jisung shakes the thoughts out of his head and focuses on his cooking. Both to stop his silly pining and also to make sure the food is good, so Minho can get better faster.
The porridge and soup are just about done when his phone starts ringing from its perch on the bar counter. Jisung hurries to get his phone, mindful that he could be disturbing Minho.
“Hello?” Jisung answers without looking at the contact, going back to the pot of soup that’s boiling away happily.
“Jisung? Where are you? We said we’d meet at 11, right?” It’s Chan. Fuck.
“Oh – shit. Hyung, I’m so sorry but I don’t think I can make it into the studio today. Minho woke up feverish today and I think he’s down with a cold, so I’ve been taking care of him.”
“Oh, Minho is sick? That’s fine, don’t worry about it! Do you need any help? I can drop by later and bring something over if you want.”
“But I don’t want you to get sick as well, hyung.”
“Then do you need any groceries, or any medicine? I can drop them outside your apartment!”
“Let me check… oh – yeah, we do! I’ll text you the things we need hyung, and please drop them outside Minho’s apartment, thank you! And I’ll send you the lyrics you need for today later, I just need to change it a little before it’s done.”
“Okay, sure – see you later, Jisungie! Take care of Minho, yeah?”
“Of course,” Jisung says, then hangs up. He stirs the porridge thoughtfully, adds a little bit more salt then turns the fire down to its lowest heat, leaves it to simmer.
He makes his way into the bedroom, opening the door slowly to not wake Minho up prematurely. Minho is sleeping – and sleep talking. Jisung tries not to laugh; he’s more than well-acquainted with Minho’s sleeping habit. He’s been woken up in the middle of the night by Minho’s random, nonsensical mutterings or loud yells more times than he can count. Usually, it’s fine and he can fall back asleep straightaway; sometimes it’s irritating because he’s already running low on sleep; but right now –
It’s endearing.
It might be because of his fever, but Minho’s sleep talking is even more ridiculous than usual. He’s murmuring about “dancing” and “ice cream” and “stop tickling me!”. Oh – maybe it does make sense.
Jisung sits down beside Minho and frowns; Minho’s forehead is matted with sweat and his face is visibly flushed even in this three-quarters dark bedroom. The fever has probably set in, from the looks of it.
“Baby,” Jisung calls softly, pats Minho’s cheek lightly. “Baby, wake up – you need to take some panadol and eat.”
“Hmm?” Minho says sleepily, still not quite awake. Jisung really wishes he didn’t need to wake his baby up at all.
“Medicine, and food.” He lets Minho wake up at his own pace and take his own time to sit up, arms almost giving way when he does so.
“I… don’t feel good, Sungie,” Minho whispers, lets Jisung put another pillow behind his back. “It’s so hot…”
“You gotta eat something first, then take your medicine, okay? It’ll make you feel better baby, I promise.”
Minho nods, looks a little out of it.
Jisung brings in some soup and porridge on a tray, sets it on their side table. He’s about to stand up again to open the blinds when he feels a small tug on the end of his t-shirt.
“Where are you going, star?”
“Baby, I –“
“Star, stay…” Minho says, words trailing off and he’s curled into himself, looking so lost for a moment that Jisung sits back down again.
“I’m going to open the blinds for light,” Jisung says, cups the back of Minho’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere, love.” Then he realises what he’s just said.
But Minho just nods, sinks back into the pillows and lets go of Jisung’s shirt.
Jisung quickly opens the blinds and starts coaxing Minho to eat the porridge. Minho’s hands are shaking, so Jisung helps him, guides his hand and makes sure Minho doesn’t spill the hot food on himself. Minho gets through most of the soup and some porridge before putting his spoon down; Jisung kisses his forehead and takes the tray away.
“Medicine, baby,” Jisung says as he walks back in with a glass of water and some tablets in his hand.
“Thank you, star,” Minho says, eyes already slipping close. He takes the medicine without fuss and insists on walking around for a bit, because, “I don’t want to get indigestion!” He also goes outside for a while to sit with Jisung, accompanying him to eat. He finally relents to go back and rest when Jisung finishes eating.
“Your cooking was really good,” Minho murmurs sleepily when Jisung manages to tuck him in. “You couldn’t even cook ten months ago…”
“Learned from the best, baby,” Jisung whispers. “Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“I know you will,” Minho says, words already blurring together. “But thank you for taking care of me, star…” His voice trails off towards the end as he falls asleep, and Jisung smiles, heart full to the brim with adoration. He’s about to lean down and kiss Minho’s forehead again when he hears it –
I love you. The three words just barely whispered and completely slurred together, but Jisung still makes it out.
He leans in, closes the gap and presses a kiss to Minho’s forehead there.
They haven’t said anything about what they are. They don’t have title or labels – they are just two people who like each other. Two people who go over to each other’s places a lot; two people who spend their free time together; two people who make plans to go out together that they happen to call dates. They are – just Minho and Jisung. More than titles, ‘baby’ and ‘star’… these names are what suits them.
Jisung gets up and leaves Minho to sleep. He doesn’t quite close the door fully, and a beam of sunshine makes it way into the bedroom.
(they are minho and jisung.)
He’ll stay.
(“take me out when i’m better.”
“silly baby. i’ll take you out any day. now – take your medicine.”
“promise, star?”
“i promise you.”
a kiss on the forehead, and then one on the back of a too-warm hand.)
Jisung thinks he likes this part of Minho too. The one that isn’t afraid to ask him to stay; the one that everyday Minho calls slightly selfish behaviour. He also thinks that it’s so easy for this like to become love, and not just for this side of Minho.
(he stays until minho’s fever breaks, then a bit more. if one could call a bit more forever.)