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It isn’t unusual for Minho to find himself melting into the mattress of Jisung’s bed. They have a long tradition of occupying each other’s nests, with or without letting the other know first. But it is new this time – because that’s what he’s doing, melting. Letting the surface beneath him give out under his weight until he feels like he’s fallen into the deep ocean of softness and warmth.
Jisung’s gentle voice leads him through the relaxation like a waft of summer breeze he longs to chase. And he could, Jisung is right here, somewhere above him or maybe sitting by the edge of the bed, but his body doesn’t move on his command. Half because it only listens to Jisung’s orders now, and half because he’s scared to break the spell.
“It doesn’t matter if you haven’t done this before,” the younger told him earlier that day, the palm of his hand spreading warmth through Minho’s thigh in an attempt to make it stop twitching. He’s been pent up lately, which is no surprise considering their busy schedule. Jisung himself isn’t much calmer, but somehow, he manages to keep himself together. When seeing the older struggle, he was more than happy to introduce him to his own technique.
Relaxation wasn’t exactly what Minho had in mind when the younger invited him to his room, expecting a simple cuddle session – no talking, no real world behind the curtains. Or maybe a kissing session if they were lucky enough to not be interrupted.
“You might feel out of place at first, but I promise the relaxation does wonders,” he whispered to him as he laid Minho into his bed, stretching out his limbs and making sure there was nothing distracting in the sight. Then he instructed him to close his eyes, going a step further when he leaned down to give a fluttering kiss to each of Minho’s eyelids. “Just don’t rush anywhere and let yourself enjoy what you think about. Alright?”
He nodded, puckering his lips in a silent request to get a kiss before they started. Jisung obliged. Chuckling when Minho chased after his lips, he once more lowered Minho down and shuffled away to start the session. At least he promised Minho to kiss him more once they’re done.
Minho thought that would be it, having a short session of relaxing, whatever that really meant, and then resuming their usual chilling. Now, though, he finds himself pleasantly surprised with how much he enjoys it. Both Jisung’s voice lulling his restless mind and the feeling of slowly fading tension.
“Think of a place,” the younger’s voice echoes impossibly close to his skin. “It could be anywhere, real or dreamed up. A place where you feel safe, or that you wish to see.”
Minho knows a handful of places he’d love to visit, and he misses his home lots in these stressing times, but another place makes itself at home – a more immediate one. The place he always wants to find himself at because it provides comfort, it puts him on ease. The place is a person, and the person has a place that Minho’s grown familiar with over the last year.
When he dreams, he thinks of what Jisung looks like right now besides him, wonders where exactly he sits by the rustling of sheets that accompany his soothing voice. He thinks of the sweet smile he must be wearing. The warmth of his embrace, soft pressure of his lips on Minho’s head – all the things he could have for real if they were just hanging out right now.
He remembers the faint smell of tulips lingering in Jisung’s hair, embraces himself in the phantom memory of Jisung’s body around him. It’s hard to school the muscles on his face into a relaxed expression when all he wants is to smile wide at the pleasant memory.
“As you walk around the place, looking around, there are many objects around,” Jisung continues, and Minho wishes he’d be stroking his hair, wishes he could rest his head on Jisung’s lap as he lets himself imagine the exact same. “Try to find an object that you’d like to personify with.”
He doesn’t have to search for too long, already knowing where he stands in the picture.
“Where is the object? What is the object thinking? What is its role in your dream?”
Easy. Minho is just where he should be, where he wishes to be whenever he isn’t in the dance practice room, with the person he craves to have by his side. He isn’t thinking about much. Doesn’t have to when he’s with Jisung because the younger reads him like a book. And his role? To be held and to be there for Jisung the same way the younger is always there for him.
“Think of something your object would like to tell the other objects in the room, or just in general.”
“I love you,” he lets it out as an exhale, unable to stop himself from forming the words on his tongue.
He can hear the hitch in Jisung’s breath clearly and feels his own body blooming with warmth that spreads from his very core to the tips of his fingers. Jisung told him earlier he doesn’t have to answer his questions out loud – he isn’t doing it on purpose either. Letting the words slip past his lips freely feels heavenly.
“How do the other… objects react?” comes the next question, veiled with glee and a hushed smile. “Would they pull you closer, hold you tight? Would they let you know they feel the same?”
Minho thinks of exactly that, being held close to Jisung’s solid chest, enveloped by his arms, and caressed softly as Jisung peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. He knows he could ask for it, and that he doesn’t have to because Jisung wants it as much as he does.
It’s their safe space, it’s how they work.
Hold me, he thinks, and suddenly, the mere memory isn’t enough. With a weak hand, he reaches out to where Jisung must be. He doesn’t get far, both because his limp arm is shaking with effort and because Jisung gently places it back down.
As if he understood the request, he intertwines their fingers and shuffles around, presumably to lie down beside Minho. The older would love to roll to his side and cross the distance between their bodies, but it’s no use. His body is too weak to move.
He feels at peace, any remaining stress long gone. The only thing that’s left is the desire to have Jisung’s arms around him, to feel their bodies melt into one just what happened with the sheets earlier. It’s magic. He wants it to happen again and again, until they are one.
“Alright, take a last look at the place around you and when you’re ready,” the words are whispered into his ear, making him shudder, “let yourself wake up or fall asleep,” one hand drapes itself around Minho’s waist, he hums in approval, “and when you open your eyes, you’ll be back here.”
When Minho lets his eyes flutter open, nothing changes. The same walls bleed through the memory, the same ceiling greets him when he looks up, and the same Jisung lies beside him, a fond smile decorating his already pretty lips.
It takes all of Minho’s energy to roll over and fit himself into the crook of Jisung’s body until he’s completely pressed into the younger. “Did it work? Do you feel any better?” Jisung whispers against his temple. He nods weakly. “Glad to hear that, glad I could make you feel better, love.”
Minho doesn’t have enough control to find his voice, instead letting out a pleased whine, shuddering when Jisung brings his arms to encircle his waist and pushes him deeper into the sheets until the only thing left in Minho’s mind is his warmth.
“Call me whenever, okay?” he assures Minho. “I’ll be here. I have a few more if this wasn’t ideal.”
Minho shakes his head slowly, pressing his puckered lips to Jisung’s neck in a weak attempt of a kiss. Slowly, he feels energy returning into his body, a gentle buzz of electricity that wakes up under his fingertips and guides his hands to rest on Jisung’s cheeks. It still takes some effort to lean in for a kiss, but that never stopped Minho before. “T’was perfect.”