Chapter Text
It was a quiet night in his leader’s studio save the inconsistent, yet recurring text notifications sounding every few seconds. They had been doing no favors for his intent to concentrate as he sat isolated, late into the night. He needed to concentrate on his words, the music, the vision– whatever that meant now. Concentration was key. The incessant ringing should have brought an onslaught of aggravation had his intent to focus on his work proved to be in effect; however, some nights the hope of focus was no more than a disappointing reverie. Tonight had been the ladder.
Jisung’s pencil scraped across the rugged, slightly creased pages of his notebook that had indisputably seen better days. The result of being carelessly lugged around the world in his janky backpack for the majority of its time spent in the rapper’s possession. Most producers at his level had turned to modern technology to write and compile whatever creative bile they had elected to spew into the industry, but frankly, Jisung couldn't be bothered. None of the ramblings that inhabited within the lines of his crimped notebook pages held any value to him. His own word bile was nothing more than that– a purge of anything to keep his mind from wandering for too long. Therefore, the state of his notebook pages, despite containing some of the most revered compositions in the music industry, didn’t concern him in the least.
Truthfully, the words flowed easily and, conceivably, was one of the perks of being a so-called ‘ace’. He put little to no effort forth in order to write the basics of a song. A talent that he had learned to hold in high regard as it was perhaps the only reason he remained in the industry for as long as he had.
So, that’s what he did.
He wrote and provided the foundations. A foundation that Chan would compose a beat to and Changbin would then master to ultimately release as a top selling song for their group. That was their dynamic– a perfectly greased cog that pumped out hit after hit for nearly a decade. They had it down to a science.
Jisung had been out of touch lately, though. Fortunately, even during these times, there was no shortage of words. The pages were always full and flipping endlessly, but the depth of his works ended precisely there. Void of any real content or value, Jisung’s lyrics were nothing more than a cacophony of words. Alas, they were enough to keep the company appeased and decent enough to allow his fellow subunit members to expand on; however, that was all Jisung had been aiming for these days– decent. Because that’s all he was capable of. When it came to him, that’s all he’d ever be.
Decent.
Decent got by. It was subtle and never questioned. No one worried about anyone being ‘decent’. So that is where Jisung lingered– in the blank space between null and decency.
He wasn’t exactly sure when they had stopped, but noting the silence that now filled the studio, the rapper was finally prompted to glance up from his notebook and over to his cell phone that sat on Chan’s mixing desk. His gaze was met with only that of a blank, darkened screen, indicating that it stopped receiving messages awhile ago. A sigh left his lips. Whoever was trying to reach him must have finally come to the conclusion that it was not worth the effort. When it came to him, it never was.
Jisung required effort to like– something he was despondently self-aware of. Nothing about him came off as readily as the other members he affiliated himself with. He was given no innate sunshine-magnetism nor altruistic charm that caused people to flock and dote upon him. He was exactly who he was and by many’s standards, that was hardly anything at all. There was little appeal to a homebody riddled with copious and indomitable amounts of apprehension towards the world. And try as he might, Jisung found no resolve that comforted him in these moments of darkened thought. After years and years of mental torment in his adolescence, Jisung finally found a meager amount of solace in writing. The more rapidly his pencil moved across the page, the less his mind had time to centralize on any bleak thoughts. So, he actively sought to pursue a lifestyle that could allow him to write for hours on end in hopes to quiet the deep hurt that inhabited his subconscious. Jisung looked forward to the moments when he could finally put down his pencil.
It was in those pages of lyrics that Jisung found his one source of confidence. While he felt he lacked in every other area in his life, he knew the songs he wrote were good. Damn good , even. One couldn’t make it as far as he had in the idol industry without having something favorable to their advantage. Jisung wasn’t modest enough to deny that. He knew he held his own in the industry with what he brought to the table; however, often he felt his contributions ended precisely there. His merit was strictly ‘professional’. Anything he provided as content for the group was received extremely well, so the company would be foolish to not benefit from him and his ability to contribute to the group’s success. Or simply put, Jisung made the company money– big money ; therefore, as long as he could continue to bring in capital, he would remain comfortably employed under the JYP label.
And so, Jisung felt his position within the group fell short of being Stray Kid’s ‘lead rapper’ or ‘main producer’ and instead his position could merely be defined as ‘profitable’. It wasn’t like he could blame his other member’s for only seeing him essentially as a fellow co-worker. Jisung couldn’t say he earned the right to be anything more meaningful than that to them. In his earlier pre-debut days, he had been aggressive and haughty– the fear of failure fueling him more than the passion for the industry. Insecurity had become his biggest vice, causing Jisung to act out and instigate senseless drama when he felt suffocated beneath the constant pressure. To this day, it surprised him that Hyunjin could even stand to look at him let alone live beneath the same roof. Perhaps, that was all within those same formalities though– ‘ It’s nothing personal, it’s business .’
Hyunjin wasn’t spiteful enough to jeopardize his own career over the petty arguments shared between them in their trainee days. Even still, Hyunjin had every reason to hold Jisung’s words against him.
Despite this, the rapper was just grateful that his members could at least acknowledge the caliber he brought to the group. He was still a necessary cog in the machine that kept them functional as a band. Fundamental, yes, but undeniably and inevitably replaceable.
He knew the way his members relied on him would never amount to how much Jisung desperately relied on them. There was no way he could have possibly achieved his level of success without the adamant dedication of the other members.
Chan had been there since day one, perhaps Jisung’s biggest saving grace. Changbin was swept into his entourage not long after finding him and thus forming the very start of their careers. Before too long, their trio had expanded exponentially to the formidable eight members they had now. As to be expected, each new member brought in their own unabashed and unique element to the group’s dynamic. Chan and Changbin with their leadership. Felix with his magnetic energy. Seungmin and Jeongin with their prodigious voices. Hyunjin with his talents and artistry. And Minho–
Undefinable with how much the second eldest in the group truly provided for them. Minho brought everything. Determination. Skill. Balance. Intensity. And in his own deviant way, compassion. The elder was an enigma. He could be the hottest coal in the fire when he wanted to be, or the relief of water to tranquilize the flames. It was something that came with a level of self-assuredness that Jisung admired the most about their lead dancer.
As if summoned by his internal monologue, there was a knock on the studio door, breaking Jisung from his thoughts causing his pencil to skate involuntarily across the page he had been working on. With a quick curse under breath as he recollected himself and eyed down the soils of his now ruined page, he called out, “Who is it?”
“Jaigya–”
Jisung stilled, blinking for a moment before his hand reached for his phone on the desk. Electing to ignore the notifications at the bottom, the screen illuminated to reflect the time, confirming Jisung’s assumption that it was well into the night. Certainly too late for Minho to be at the company building. Perhaps his dance rehearsal had been extended– to which Jisung would have to have a stern word with him if Minho was opting to over-exert himself so late.
“Han-ah?”, the voice beyond the door called out for a second time, sounding less quipped yet ever insistent.
In lieu of a response, the rapper stood from his chair and moved to open the door, revealing the taller, dark-haired man standing just outside the doorway– a plastic, convenience store bag in hand and a pointed, unblinking stare to meet his own.
“Hyung, it’s late.” Jisung stated obviously as Minho eased his way past the smaller man into the studio and unceremoniously plopped himself onto the couch against the wall. The elder merely offered a raised eyebrow and a quick flutter of his eyelids in response, as if to impose the statement directly back towards Jisung.
At the lack of formal response, but understanding the irony of his own words nonetheless, Jisung silently closed the door and returned to his previous spot at Chan’s desk. Spinning the chair to now face the newcomer on the couch, he tried again, but this time more specifically.
“You should be back at the dorms at this hour now, hyung. Not rehearsing. Sitting and writing lyrics is one thing, but for you be pushing your body so late into the night–”
“I wasn’t rehearsing.'' The elder cut him off with a noncommittal wave of his hand as he continued to hold Jisung’s gaze, his expression offering nothing in regards to his unexpected arrival. Though, Jisung had begun to deduce that it might not have been as unexpected if he had the decency to check his phone.
A nod of his head was all Jisung found himself capable of responding with in regards to Minho’s lack of clarification– though the gesture was more so to break away from the elder’s unrelenting gaze that Jisung seemed to be locked in since the moment the other had arrived. It was something that Jisung never grew accustomed to with Minho, even after knowing each other for as long as they had. While Jisung vigorously avoided making eye contact at all costs, Minho always seemed to be actively seeking it out. It seemed his eyes would not be satiated until they fell into accord with another’s. It was a quality about the elder that Jisung could never tell if it was meant to be intimidating or endearing. Either way, it never fell short of intense.
“I texted Chan and he had said you hadn’t made it back from the studio yet.” Minho offered eventually, his attention turning to the plastic bag he had brought with him once Jisung’s eye flitted away. A silence fell between them again, only the crinkle of the plastic bag sounding as the elder rifled through its contents. After a moment, Minho’s hands extended out towards Jisung in a silent offering, holding a pink milk carton in one hand and a yellow carton in the other. The younger blinked a few times in confusion at the milk cartons presented before him. When Minho remained stationary, looking towards Jisung expectantly, did he finally realize Minho was waiting for him to make a choice.
A timid finger lifted and pointed towards the pink bottle. “Oh, uh, strawberry.”
Minho gave a single nod and handed him the pink carton wordlessly before he set the yellow one on the couch cushion beside him. His attention returning back towards his plastic bag, he sifted through it once more before pulling out two rolls of wrapped kimbap, once again silently extending one of the rolls out to the other.
A small snort of air pushed through Jisung’s nostrils as he gave a tight lipped smile, taking the offered kimbap and nodding his appreciation. “Thanks, hyung.”
It was only then that Minho turned his full attention back to the younger man, offering a small, returned nod and hum of content as he gathered his own snack and shifted more comfortably against the cushions of Chan’s couch. Unwrapping the foil and biting into the first piece, Minho gave another hum of satisfaction this time before reaching a hand forward to extract his phone from the confines of his front pocket. Minho chewed his food silently as his thumb pressed against his phone screen repeatedly before it languidly began to swipe up across the screen, clearly the start of a mindless social media scrolling session.
A confused expression gathered on Jisung’s face as his fingers toyed with the excess of foil on the rim of his milk carton, eyeing the elder suspiciously as he evidently had no intentions of interacting with Jisung further.
“Hyung?” Jisung tried carefully, to which Minho’s eyes immediately looked up to meet his own, once again blinking repeatedly as if he couldn’t fathom why someone would interrupt him in the midst of his brainless scrolling.
“Is something the matter, Hannie?” the elder responded through a bite of his food.
“What? No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I just– did you come here with a purpose?” Jisung’s lips pursed, a hint of uncertainty to his tone.
Minho’s staccato blinks seemed to be the only form of communication the elder was capable of for a moment, until finally. “Ah, not really, no?”
Jisung frowned. “No?”
“No, I just– decided to come.” Minho reiterated, face stoic as ever though his legs shifted slightly against the couch cushions as though preparing to stand up and make his retreat if the other had deemed that Minho’s presence was unwelcomed. “Is that okay?”
“Why?” Jisung spewed the word out before his brain could begin to process if it were really a necessary question to have asked.
Minho’s eyes locked on the ground for a moment in silent contemplation before he simply shrugged his shoulders. “I was bored. I wanted a snack. Figured maybe you would too. “ his eyes looked back towards Jisung, giving another quick succession of blinks. “If you’re busy, I can leave.” he offered, his hands consciously beginning to re-wrap the packaging on his kimbap and reaching over to collect the plastic bag he had left discarded beside him.
“Ah, no, you don’t have to leave. “ Jisung quickly interjected, his hand automatically reaching out to stop Minho from gathering his belongings. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like I wanted you to leave. I just– I’m just writing is all. It’s not really entertaining or anything. I kinda just sit here in silence and you know, get into this sort of headspace that I just–” he let the shrug of his shoulders finish whatever was left unsaid.
Minho paused his cleaning efforts, his eyes slowly looking over Jisung’s face for any indication that he was lying. Jisung always had an unfathomable amount of patience when it came to Minho’s mischievous antics and clingy behaviors, so in return, Jisung could tell the elder was always trying to be conscious of never infringing on Jisung’s creative space. He knew that Jisung’s writings were as much of an outlet as it was a job for him. Once he concluded, however, that Jisung’s eyes held no traces of misleading evidence, the elder simply offered a hum in response and eased back into the cushions.
“I didn’t come here to be entertained, Hannie. I simply came to just be here. With you.” the elder responded as if it had been obvious, his words coming out far too casually that Jisung was certain he misheard them.
With you.
The way his words had affected Jisung, however, went unnoticed by Minho as he continued,“I was at the dorms, but Innie and Yongbokkie were arguing over some video game they were playing. Seungmin was only adding to the chaos by yelling at them to keep it down.“ A snort left the elder as he recalled the moment from earlier that day, his tone laced with annoyance, but the fondness in his smirk unmistakable. Minho lifted a hand from where it rested in his lap to point towards the unopened kimbap that laid in Jisung’s. “Eat.”
Jisung’s eyes widened momentarily as he craned his head down to examine whatever had been referenced to in his lap before nodding his compliance. Scooping up the roll, he carefully began to unwrap it and take a bite of the first piece. “You didn’t want to join in on their game? I thought you liked gaming with them.” he questioned, the food in his mouth rolling to the sides of his cheeks and rounding them out as he spoke.
Minho watched him eat, a slight grin on his lips before he shook his head with a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “No, I didn’t want to play with them tonight. My schedules were long today. I just wanted to relax.”
Jisung nodded at that, understanding the need for peace after a tiresome day more than anyone.
“When I didn’t hear back from you, that’s when I messaged Chan.” Minho supplied with a quick glance in Jisung’s direction before he averted his attention back to the phone in his hand, fingers aimlessly swiping across the screen with no real intent. It was evident to Jisung that Minho had selected his words with caution, in an attempt to avoid it sounding like he was accusing Jisung of ignoring his texts.
Jisung frowned, his gaze drifting over to his own mobile device that sat neglected on the desk the entirety of the night. In all fairness, Jisung had been unaware of who he had been ignoring when the texts came flooding in earlier. Knowing now it was Minho, a rock settled in his stomach with heavy guilt. Jisung’s expression dropped to something apologetic. “I’m sorry, hyung– I was working on this song and just–”
“You don’t need to apologize, Hannie. You’re working. I get it.” Minho looked back up towards him, smiling in understandment. “That’s why I messaged hyung. I figured you were busy and not paying attention to your phone.”
“I mean, sure I’m working, but that really isn’t an excuse to not respond. I heard my phone ringing, but—“ Jisung’s head hung low, working hard to take the accountability that Minho seemed unwilling to give him.
“Hannie–” Minho said with purpose, causing the younger to look up and meet his gaze. “You’re working, you have no obligation to respond to me when you’re working. You have no obligation to respond to anyone, ever, in fact . Truthfully, I’m just glad you opened the door. “ he chuckled. “I wanted somewhere comfortable and quiet to spend my evening, so I selfishly invited myself to partake in your comfort and quietness.”
“My comfort?” Jisung repeated, unable to stop the scoff that escaped his lips as he spoke. ‘Comfort’ was a word Jisung would never have associated with himself. In fact, it was quite possibly one of the last words he would ever use in his own regards, followed closely behind with amicable , collected and most notably, lovable .
“Yes, yours.” Minho responded straightforwardly, his brows furrowing slightly. “Why do you sound surprised?”
Jisung grimaced, not intending for Minho to have read further into his questioning. “Aish, nothing– I mean, I’m not– I didn’t mean–” the younger’s words, of course now, coming up short despite having spent the entirety of the day producing them rampantly with no issue.
Minho stared him down, all too knowingly regardless of Jisung’s attempt to reconcile the intentions of his words. “Sungie, I value any time spent with you. Perhaps the most out of anyone. I hope you know that.”
At that, Jisung’s eyes flickered up to meet Minho's again, perhaps his gaze wider than he intended. The elder’s tone had been flat, gruff even, with a sincerity that Jisung hadn’t expected. A dull ache began to throb deep within the younger’s chest as if his heart was now begging, pleading , for Minho’s words to hold the smallest amount of resounding truth. Because, no, Jisung did not know that.
Regardless of who it had been to utter those words, Jisung’s mind floundered in its attempt to understand why anyone could find anything remotely redeemable about himself– much less if that person was Minho. Even with the words having distinctly left the elder’s mouth mere moments ago, Jisung could only shake his head solemnly in response. It was a notion that Jisung’s mind simply rejected. So, not only did he not know that, but he refused to believe it.
Because that was Minho– the Lee Minho . A man that took zero effort to love because he was simply that lovable. A face to be put in films. A voice to be made into songs. A physique to be performing on stage. And above all, a mind strong enough to never falter. Minho was quite literally what Jisung would describe as perfection. A level of sanctity that Jisung could never even dream of achieving in all his life, and yet that Minho had been seemingly graced with it from the start.
“I can’t imagine why you would.” Jisung mumbled before cursing himself mentally. There was no reason for him to be so abrasive towards the sentiments Minho was expressing, but he supposed old habits die hard. Much like his trainee days, Jisung still clearly clung to defensiveness when provoked with his own vulnerability.
A hum came from the elder, who seemed completely passive to Jisung’s reaction, almost as if he had been expecting that response.
“Jagi –” Minho’s tone was soft, almost inaudible, but laced with something Jisung could only assume was pity. It made his stomach churn as he forced his eyes to lock on to the long-forgotten kimbap roll that had gone warm in his hands. With a sigh, he moved to set it and the milk carton on the desk beside his phone and averted his eyes as far away from the other’s as possible as an unsettling amount of anxiety began coiling deep within the rapper’s abdomen. In his peripherals, Jisung could see the way Minho was slowly shifting his posture in hopes of catching the younger’s eyes, never relenting to gain that connection; however, Jisung refused to let him find it this time. Minho’s soft, far-too-sympathetic eyes of whatever commiseration he was feeling towards the younger would inevitably be Jisung’s breaking point. It was too much.
Swiveling in his chair, he turned himself back towards the desk and away from Minho, electing to ignore the insolence of his action towards his hyung. Jisung sat stiff in his chair, his breathing shallow as he waited idly for Minho’s response to his curt reaction to his sentiment; however, only another lull of silence fell between the pair.
The air fell thick– each in-take of breath weighing heavy into Jisung’s lungs. Knowing that Minho sat soundlessly behind him, expecting a response from the younger, but only to receive blatant disrespect, tugged at the innermost coils of his chest. A rush of blood flooded his now too-warm cheeks and ears as his limbs fell ice cold– his body desperately trying to regulate the swelter of emotions that threatened to burst.
Minho remained silent, though, Jisung wasn’t sure if he would have been able to hear him if the dancer had said anything anyways with how the sound of thick blood was now pulsing behind his eardrums. It wasn’t until he felt his eyes fall heavy with hot moisture that Jisung gained enough wits to stop himself from spiraling. Instinctively, he reached for his pencil and notebook, flipping to a random page and immediately starting to write.
It could have been all unintelligible scribbles for all he knew. Not a single word could cohesively formulate in his mind while knowing Minho had yet to say anything– had yet to even move . The course lead of Jisung’s pencil began to scrape harder, deeper against the page as he wrote, hoping the sound would drown out the deafening silence of the dancer that sat behind him.
The rapper's desperate attempt for respite was cut short, however, once he heard the muffled creak of the leather cushions sighing their relief as weight had been alleviated off of them.
Minho had finally moved which inadvertently caused Jisung to hold his breath again, his stomach dropping.
Another beat of silence settled before the soft padding of footsteps could be heard against the carpeted floor, causing Jisung’s heart to now drop alongside his stomach. Minho obviously had his fill of sitting on the studio couch, and given that Jisung occupied the only other chair in the room, it only meant one thing. Minho was leaving– finding the need to escape the intolerable atmosphere Jisung had created in the small confines of Chan’s studio.
Jisung’s chest tightened painfully, knowing all too well that he caused this. The tension in the air had been completely unnecessary, yet Jisung still found the need to instigate something and put it there. Because that’s all he could ever do. That all his mind would ever let him do. The version of himself that he had created in his mind was so incapable of being loved and being in love, that he couldn’t accept it in any capacity. Friendly, platonically, romantically — none of it was possible. If he couldn’t see anything of value in himself, then there was no reason for anyone else to.
“Jisung.” the sound of his own, actual name startled the younger from the depths of his thoughts, the voice dripping with warmth coming from close behind him. Jisung swallowed a lump in his throat as reality began to settle back in around him. His eyes flickered down to his notebook noting that the page was practically empty, the pencil held limply in his hand. He hadn’t even noticed that had stopped writing. Dropping the pencil from his grip and letting it fall against the sheet of paper, a shaky hand raised to slowly inspect a new warmth of salty liquid that ran down his round cheeks and collected in the corner of his lips. He hadn’t even noticed that he had begun to cry.
Before he could even collect himself as the moment settled, a pair of thick, muscular arms snaked across his shoulders from behind followed by the warmth of something pressing delicately against the crown of his head. Jisung trembled beneath the embrace. Minho hadn’t left.
“You are my favorite source of comfort.” Minho’s breath warm against his scalp, Jisung now realizing it was the elder’s lips that had nestled so softly into his hair.
The words all but punched the oxygen from Jisung’s lungs, his lips parting in response as he fought for a single brain cell to think of something, anything to say.Yet his eyes had been quicker than his mouth, as he felt the next wave of tears fall from the corner of his eyelids.
A ragged intake of breath was all Jisung could manage as the overwhelming warmth of Minho’s embrace encompassed him. But all too soon, the weight of Minho’s arms had slipped out from around him, leaving Jisung to fold in on himself in the elder’s absence. Instinctively at the loss, his own arms coiled around his middle as he slowly sunk deeper into himself, oblivious in his own pity to notice his chair being turned to face towards the couch again. .
The warmth of Minho’s contact returned then, but this time in the form of nimble fingers slowly skating over the tear stains on Jisung’s face.
”Jagiya, look at me.” the elder gently coaxed.
Jisung immediately shook his head, curling further into himself. He couldn’t meet Minho’s eyes– couldn’t stand to see the way that he was undoubtedly watching him with so much compassion and understanding. Jisung didn’t deserve it.
“Okay.” Minho responded simply, his fingers continuing to glide across the planes of his cheeks and up to tuck a few strands of hair behind the younger’s ear. “Then just listen for now. “
A single nod was all the younger had offered in return.
“It pains me to know that your mind is never kind to you. I can see the way it torments you and seemingly convinces yourself that you are undeserving of even the simplest bouts of kindness.” The elder paused, his head shifting lower to try and find Jisung’s eyes that the younger was adamant on keeping hidden from him.
“But it’s so unnecessary, Jisung…”
With the sound of his own chaste name again, Jisung found his emotions spiraling once more.
Since the start of their friendship, Minho was seldom serious, always opting for pet names and playful terms of endearment in a forever attempt to embarrass the younger. And of course, Jisung was intolerably susceptible. His kittenish names were always diabolically timed, catching the rapper off guard and provoking a dusting of pink to blossom across Jisung’s rounded cheeks as a victorious, cat-like grin spread across Minho’s. Overtime, however, the dancer’s casual flirtations had become so second nature to Jisung (the rapper eventually adopting the habit himself) that the use of their actual , given names often felt more intimate.
The touch of careful fingers pulled Jisung from his thoughts as Minho brought his hand down his face to fall just beneath his jaw, gently coaxing the younger’s head up. Leaning forward, the elder placed a gentle but resounding kiss to the younger’s cheek. Jisung’s bleary eyes widened as he felt the warmth of Minho’s lips make contact with his skin, sending a shrill shiver down his spine to then resurface as goosebumps against his forearms.
“You are so worthy and so deserving of it all. Every ounce of kindness and love you receive is given with purpose because it’s meant to be there– given specifically to you, because of you. “ Minho’s breath was still hot against Jisung’s cheek as the dancer held his grasp on Jisung’s chin and continued to pepper his tear stains with reserved kisses.
“I could never be worthy of yours, hyung…” Jisung finally mustered out through a broken sob, his heart constricting painfully in his chest as he melted into the unrelenting warmth of Minho’s touches against his face. “You…You’re so perfect. In every way. It’s people like you who deserve it.”
“Hannie, my love has been yours since the day I met you. It’s always been yours. It couldn’t belong to anyone else, even if I wanted it to. “ Minho hummed, his confession imbued with something so genuine that it finally had convinced Jisung’s to raise his head to meet Minho’s gaze.
The cat-like eyes of the dancers flickered between Jisung’s, his lips spreading into a wide, beautiful display of perfect, bunny-like teeth. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Jisung hiccuped back.
The pair sat content in each other’s matching whiskey eyes, Minho’s fingers lifting to tuck more strands of hair behind Jisung’s ear. He could tell the elder was carefully studying him, analyzing every falter in his gaze and shuddery in-take of breath that the rapper took.
“You still don’t believe me.” The dancer whispered, not a question but a statement of observation.
Jisung hated how easily his hyung could read him.
The tiniest sliver of a grin graced the dancer’s lips before he released a small puff of breath. “Ah, my sweet Hannie , may I show you then?”
Fear subdued by the sentiments found within Minho’s words, Jisung nodded.
Both of the dancer’s hands found Jisung’s face in that moment, cupping his full cheeks as he gently pulled the younger towards him, allowing their lips to finally meet. The kiss was soft, simple– Minho not pressing for anything more than a lingering peck as Jisung’s breath caught in the back of his throat.
Much like he did for his cheeks, Minho continued to gently pepper Jisung’s lips over and over again to slowly ease the tension from the younger who was stunned into stillness and unable to reciprocate in the moment. “Tell me to stop and I will–” Minho whispered.
The words must have finally awoken Jisung from his trance as his body gave a quick shudder before his hands instantly reached forward and latched to the front of Minho’s shirt, gripping tightly and pulling Minho further into his space.
“Don’t stop.” he whimpered as his brain finally caught up with reality. Jisung’s eyes tightly closed causing the last remains of his tears to fall down his face as he finally pressed back into Minho’s onslaught of kisses.
The most beautiful, buttery laugh fell out between Minho’s mouth and against Jisung’s lips as the rapper finally fell present into the moment. It made Jisung’s heart flutter a million times over, the sound of Minho’s laughter more melodic than any song that could ever be written. It was beautiful. Minho was beautiful.
“You…you love me?” Jisung gaped once the pair had parted briefly to catch their breaths. “Like, love me, love me?” his tone small with complete uncertainty and disbelief.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Minho reassured nonchalantly, placing a kiss on the corner of Jisung’s mouth before nodding. “I have been in love with you for a long, long time and I don’t plan on stopping any time soon. I plan on being in love with you at least until forever.” he smirked, sounding all too smug with his answer. “I hope that’s okay with you?”
With those words, Jisung held back no longer. The rapper nodded furiously as the tears down his face doubled. Launching himself forward into the confines of the elder’s arms, Jisung clutched to Minho desperately as he sobbed against his chest. “ Hyung –” he voice came out wet and garbled between the emotion and proximity against the dancer.
Even if Jisung could never understand it, Minho’s words released a wave of something so validating within the younger that the happiness he felt within his chest tightened into something so overwhelming.
Minho loved him. Lee Minho loved him . The world’s most lovable man loved him .
Love – something he always felt was so unattainable and would drift away and leave him all too soon, so he never gave into the temptation of it. Only capable of writing love in terms of loss and pain and inevitable heartbreak. But now, Minho’s words offered so much clarity into realizing that the companionship that he and Jisung treasured so immensely together was that of unadulterated love . A concept that filled Jisung with so much newfound passion that he almost felt guilty that none of his music had been written about the elder. A muse so obvious and at the ready. A man to be written into love songs. Jisung couldn’t wait to pick up his pencil.
He loved Minho, too.
“It’s okay...” Jisung whispered, hiding his face against Minho’s chest with no intention of ever removing himself from the warmth, “...but, only if it’s okay if I love you until forever too?”
“Nothing would make me happier.” Minho’s embrace tightened around the younger one in his arms, cradling him against his chest and nestling his lips into Jisung’s hair. “I love you, Jisungie. You are so lovable. When it comes to you, that’s what you’ll always be.”
♡