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Jisung doesn’t initiate conversation as they get into the car, nor when he’s left alone with Minho while Changbin confirms their registration at the counter and navigates them to the correct room at the end of the main hall.
He does say a tiny thank you to the staff member who shows them the ins and outs of using the karaoke machine, but that’s about everything that leaves his mouth outside of gentle giggles.
Minho can’t be blamed for being fooled into thinking this boy is mute. And honestly, he wouldn’t mind, already eager to figure out a comfortable way in which they could communicate, be it the simple point and smile. That’s how they worked for months.
(Now that he thinks about it, that must have been extremely frustrating for the other, not even given a chance to respond vocally after what Minho considered enough time to confirm he wouldn’t.
But Jisung still smiles at him when their eyes meet and he hadn’t pushed Minho away once ever since he started flirting, so he probably hadn’t caused much harm – he meant to make things easier for Jisung, since the younger had troubles finding his voice anyway.)
And yet, he finds himself incredibly pleased with finding out Jisung has a voice – a pretty one, smooth around the edges and not too harsh despite being deep.
Way deeper than he imagined.
Too quiet to really do anything in front of a singing machine, but he deserves his rounds.
Maybe he’s wrong about that, too.
When Jisung’s first round comes around, just after Changbin had finished screaming his lungs out to some Ariana Grande, the boy hesitantly approaches the machine. He silently chooses a song as the two behind him conspire about what he should pick.
Thinking out loud, Minho suggests as the only soft song that comes to his mind. It’s one of the songs his dance team is using for their next showcase, and while he doesn’t understand much of the lyrics, he finds the melody soothing – just like Jisung’s voice, maybe a little less.
Changbin shakes his head in apparent disapproval, smirking as he mouths, Amor fati. Way too wild in Minho’s opinion, but he doesn’t argue. Jisung is free to pick whatever song he likes, they’re not here to actually judge him – that’s the role of the machine, anyway.
The younger straightens up when the machine kicks in and the first tones of the song start rolling in. He looks more confident with a microphone at his lips, eyes determinedly set on the screen.
Minho doesn’t recognise the song he chooses, so he isn’t sure what to expect. A calming voice to lead the melody? Maybe. Angel-like vocals and feeling his chest swell with pride? He certainly wasn’t expecting that, but he’ll take it.
Minho watches with held breath as Jisung belts out to the high notes, swinging his body with the song once he warms up enough. He’s a little clumsy, but the sight is precious. Needless to say, Jisung aces the performance, leaving Minho in a stunned silence, unable to utter a word even after he’s done, and the machine had evaluated his score (higher than the two of them on their warming up rounds).
"Now who's the one that can't get out a word, huh," Changbin teases him as the younger shyly returns to the couch and fits into Minho's side with a proud smile.
He averts his eyes, instead looking at Jisung whose eyes are boring into his, waiting for a reaction. Of course he’s going to give him one. For sure he will. He’d just appreciate a few more minutes to process. Changbin’s obnoxious laughter makes it hard to focus on forming words.
Now, under the intensity of Jisung’s curious eyes, he can pretty much understand what has the younger shut his mouth and keep everything bottled in – especially when there’s no order to his thoughts, no content except for being enamoured with what he’s just witnessed.
No one told him Jisung is a good singer – no one told him he has a voice in the first place – and getting to experience it with his own ears is more overwhelming than it should be. Then again, Jisung’s voice is beautiful, out of this world even. Jisung is beautiful, adorable, an unpredictable bundle of stress… and currently, he’s also staring. At him. Minho’s cheeks flush pink.
“Good one,” he stumbles out, blushing harder at how incoherent that must have sounded with his voice barely there. Jisung takes it, anyway, lips spreading into that heart-shaped smile.
“Only for you,” Jisung whispers into his shoulder, equally as flushed. And right then, Minho knows they’re on the same note. He might be in love.