Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When two soulmates exist amongst a throng of people, how could you ever tell? Well, that’s not an issue when your soulmate may be the clumsiest person to walk with those people. In a world where every bone that cracks, every cut that bleeds, and every scar that stays in and on your soulmate’s body stays in and on yours, too, it’s impossible to not be annoyed sometimes.

He first experienced it when he was barely 6 years old. Minho had been sitting in his garden like the good boy he was, playing with the soil in his mum’s flowerbeds and poking at worms whilst cooing at his neighbour's cats (who would always sit on the wall and watch him) when he heard a crack in his left arm. It did not hurt him, but he was startled by the sound having never heard it before. He didn’t cry, even as his arm lay helplessly by his side. He tried to move it because, again, he felt nothing, but it was almost refusing to cooperate with him. He was confused, so he padded off to find his mum in the house.

“Eomma?” he’d said quietly, poking at her thigh as she sat on the sofa.

His mum had peered down at him with the same soft eyes she’d always regarded him with, ready to give into her son's quizzical exploration of the world, always the curious explorer. With one look at his little face, downturned and almost worried, she reached down to lift him onto her lap.

“What’s wrong, bun?”

“I cannot move my arm!” he huffed, his shoulders slumping as he held the useless limb by his side. “It doesn’t hurt… but it won’t move.”

She had been concerned, eyebrows furrowing as she reached to take her son's arm, before withdrawing with a gasp at seeing the bone almost protruding from thin, fragile skin. She was no stranger to soulmates, she had a husband, but it was unusual for them to be paired from being young. Usually, you would get your first cut or bruise at around 14 and begrudgingly accept that you’d have to wait to ask your soulmate why they’d decided climbing that tree days before you had prom was a good idea. But her little boy was so young.

Though he had not been in pain, hadn’t screamed or cried as one would with this type of injury, she’d packed him up into the car and taken him to the closest hospital. He’d needed surgery – the second surgery of his life after his endurance as a child leaving a scar on his tummy. They’d put pins and rods into his arm to stabilise the bone and wrapped it up in a big blue cast, which all his friends at school signed. But when they asked him how he did it, he just shrugged and carried on playing.

His mum had hoped it was a one-time thing, a child being a child, but when her son kept turning up at home with bruises and cuts spanning the whole of his body, her concern was turning fragile. She hoped her son's soulmate was okay and just incredibly clumsy, but it upset her that she could never see the soft, unblemished skin she was used to again. She couldn’t help but treat Minho like glass because, even though it didn’t hurt him, it always looked like it should.

It carried on for years, by the time Minho was 16, he had had a total of 6 painless broken bones, hundreds of bruises, and a very hurt ego. He was sick of the questions it would prompt from his friends who had also started to find their soulmate connections, and he hated feeling like he needed to be even more careful just so he didn’t add to the canvas his soulmate was painting just fine without him.

He had spent most of his life shying away from things that could hurt him such as heavy-contact sports, but he could never put away his passion for dancing. He’d been dancing since he was little, even littler than his first soulmate-related bone break at 6 years old. His mum had enrolled him at a proper dance school when he was 8. It had originally been for leisure, but it quickly became his whole life. And he was good. Really good. He was being scouted all of the time, but he was not allowed to go anywhere as he couldn’t let it affect his studies. So now, at 16, he was positively brimming with the need to prove himself and let dance be his life. He focused on school, ate well, even started a bit of vocal training, just so he could graduate with good grades, and please his mother, whilst working on his dream – to become a dancer on stage.

Up until the age of 19, he was in small productions put on by his dance team whilst doing daily auditions online, submitting headshots and small freestyles. Until one day, it wasn’t so small.

“Eomma!” he cried, taking the stairs 2 at a time as he emerged from his bedroom to find his mum. He always went to his mum first, she always knew what to say.

His mum was startled by the sudden calling but didn’t have time to even stand before her grown son came barrelling in. He’d come to be so handsome, with feline eyes and a beautiful personality. She felt herself melt with fondness and pride every time she looked at him. She allowed herself to feel this as she looked at him now since his eyes didn’t convey any sort of sadness. He seemed almost… ecstatic, actually.

“I’m going to dance for BTS,” he whispered, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She felt herself gawp at him, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She wasn’t exactly up to date on the new groups emerging every year, but she sure had heard of BTS, dominating the charts globally. She tried to speak but wasn’t sure how to eloquently express herself. Instead, she opened her arms and held her son as he cried.

He started preparing quickly, dancing until his heels bled and his hair was nothing but a matte against his head. He changed his diet, which his mum wasn’t too fond of, started learning the choreography with a proper instructor, and then he started packing his bags.

The time neared quicker than his mum could keep up with, wiping at her eyes as she rubbed Minho’s back just before he departed for the airport, a car outside waiting to take him. Her baby felt so grown in her arms.

“I’ll call you all the time, promise,” he whispered. Now, when did he start looking after her?

“Okay, my baby. I love you, have fun out there,” she’d said back, eyes crinkling as she pushed her fingers through his hair one last time for a while.

He had waved at her from the window until he was out of sight, smiling the whole time.

She had a feeling he’d be just fine.

As the tour went on, Minho found out how much he loved the stage, the people he worked with, and dancing. It was so tough he found himself nearly passing out from exhaustion at some points, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He made so many friends as he toured Japan and even got friendly with some of the BTS boys during the limited time their paths would cross before they were ushered away. It made him crave the idol lifestyle, singing and dancing with friends was all he could ever hope for.

About halfway through the tour though, the worst happened.

“I’m sorry Minho, it’s broken,” the doctor muttered, pulling up the x-ray of his foot.

He cried a lot that night, sobs muffled by his pillowcase as he felt the heaviness of yet another cast weighing down his foot. He talked to his mum on the phone and told her he hated his soulmate, that they had done nothing but ruin his life. She’d listened intently to his rambling, humming at appropriate times, until he had nothing left to say, just soft cries echoing down the phone.

“Love, they’re your soulmate for a reason,” she said quietly, not even sure if he was listening as the sobs had died out now. “You will love them so much that you won’t even remember the hurt they’ve caused you. You won’t be able to take your eyes off them, you’ll want to protect them from the world.”

It was quiet for a moment, before Minho sighed, “Yeah? Well, I don’t want to protect someone who can’t even keep a bone unbroken for a few months.”

Then he ended the call, turned his phone off, and cried some more until he finally slept.

So, his time on stage had been cut short, but they let him stay as part of the crew because he was good. They kept him there to coach the others and keep the understudies up to date if they needed to take on new choreography quickly because he was a good teacher, too. He saw out the whole tour with them technically, but a part of him felt numb.

When he got back from the tour, he sat cradled in his mum's arms for hours, devoid of emotion, stoic and statue-like. He denied food, but he drank tea. He let his mum sing him to sleep like she did when he was little, trying to find anything to make him feel even a little better.

It went on like that for a while, his foot was still healing, and he couldn’t dance, so he spent most of his time searching idol companies. He wasn’t even sure if he could go through with it now since he would end up having to sit out every few months due to his chronic condition of having a soulmate. He just hoped they’d be understanding as he uploaded his videos and audition tapes.

It all happened so quickly. He was almost fought over amongst companies as he’d put his management from the tour down for reference and they must’ve gone all out recommending him, despite his absence from the last two weeks of the actual tour. He got so many offers that it was almost overwhelming.

Upon making his decision, his mum felt a sense of déjà vu as she watched him pack his bags. His foot had fully healed by this point luckily, so he was able to forego his crutches. She kissed his forehead and cradled one of the cats that Minho had rescued close to her as he ambled into his taxi. He waved at her the whole way, once again.

Upon arrival to where he’d be staying with the other trainees, Minho unpacked his bags and freshened up before heading over to the company building they’d been told to go to. He made his way through multiple similar-looking halls, opting to follow behind the other lost puppies. There was loud chatter coming from a lot of the rooms, potentially debuted idols, or meetings with the heads of the company; he felt that foreign excitement beginning to simmer in his bones once again.

Being at the company was difficult in the first week. He found it hard to talk to people, the choreography was more challenging than he was used to, and the strenuous use of his voice was almost suffocating. However, things started to get better after a while as he found his footing. He found some other dancers he could fit in with and he didn’t feel as much of an outsider as he once did.

Well, until he was hunted down by a preppy guy with a dimple and an interesting accent.

“Hi, I’m Chan,” he’d greeted. Little did he know that this guy would change his life.

Minho cocked an eyebrow, taking the extended hand and shaking it, “Minho, nice to meet you.”

“What is it I hear about you being the best dancer in this place?” Chan had said cheekily. He had Minho in his grasp from there on.

Chan had gone on to explain that he was putting together a group. Not just any group he said seriously, eyes sparkling. He insisted on a brotherhood, a group of people who could work together, and top the charts, whilst looking after each other. Minho had asked for more information; this would mean debuting within two months of even joining the company. Was he ready for that?

“Chan-ssi,” he began.

“Hyung,” Chan corrected straight up, nodding his head to show he was listening.

“Chan-hyung, I don’t know if I’m ready yet,” he admitted, worrying his lip between his teeth.

Chan barely suppressed a giggle as he looked at Minho, ruffling his hair with the confidence Minho himself wished he could find, “Here, let me take you to meet the guys, maybe they can change your mind?”

Upon walking into the room containing 5 other guys, Minho felt all eyes fall on him. Some were young and some were frightened. He frowned at this; he didn’t understand where the fear was coming from.

Chan got around to introducing everyone. Minho could see why he chose them. They all already looked so perfectly mismatched, that it was hard not to smile. They exchanged formalities, agreeing to make their speech more casual as it would settle the tense atmosphere.

“Jisung and Felix will be here soon,” Chan began, taking a seat next to a shorter guy, Changbin.

“Could you show us one of your dances, Minho-hyung?” Jeongin, the maknae, asked. His eyes were sparkling, his face so young and hopeful. Minho was almost dazed by the innocence in those eyes.

He shrugged, finding himself standing up to a few cheers and fleeting glances. He told Jeongin which song to put on and started to dance. It was a new one he and the other trainees had been working on, but it was difficult for some of them to keep up as they had only started dancing upon arrival at the company. He smiled as he heard the ‘whoops’ as he moved, his hips unforgiving as the music pulled him in.

He was so distracted, that he didn’t hear the creak of the door and the presence of two new people who took their seats, also watching in curiosity as Minho finished up the dance.

“This is why we want you on our team,” Chan said before Minho even had a chance to sit down. The blush on his cheeks was blamed on the exercise he’d just been doing. Chan ignored it, smiling softly as he turned to the newcomers. Minho was so startled by their presence that he stopped halfway down to his seat, eyes trained on the large eyes of a new boy. He was so cute, cheeks bunched up as his lips wrapped around the straw of a half-empty iced americano. However, the scowl he was giving him was not so cute. He coughed a tiny bit, fully seating himself before turning to the other boy that had come in.

“Hi, I’m Felix,” he said shyly. His skin was beautifully tanned, and he had freckles dotted all over his cheeks. His accent was strong. “My Korean isn’t the best, but I’m making progress. Nice to meet you, Minho-ssi.” He bowed his head slightly, accepting the shoulder pat off Chan.

“Please, call me Hyung. It’s lovely to meet you, Felix.”

“And this one is Han Jisung,” Chan said, gesturing over to the squirrely boy with his thumb.

Jisung just gave him a short wave, more interested in his phone than Minho. Minho didn’t mind though.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with the group, learning more about each other, their interests, and their aspirations. He found himself laughing a lot and leaning into them, quickly forming friendships. The only one who didn’t budge was Jisung who stayed quiet (and drank more caffeine than anyone needed).

By the end of it all, he agreed to try with the group, letting Chan book him in for meetings and such to establish their ground. He found himself appreciating Chan’s company a lot, even opting to stay with him for longer in one of the recording rooms so he could get a feel for Minho’s voice. He complimented him aggressively, making him feel safe and less nervous as he sang different notes and riffs – some of which Chan even ended up copying into a song.

After recording, they sat down on the comfy couch in the studio for a bit before Minho was going to head back, just to talk more.

“I think you’re the final piece,” Chan said confidently, patting Minho’s knee. “You’re talented, Minho.”

“You’re going to be a sensational leader, I can tell,” Minho told him truthfully. He squirmed under the intensity of Chan’s gaze, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable by his words like he usually would with sentimentality.

Chan blushed, his dimple popping out as he repressed a cheesy smile.

“By the way, ignore Jisung. He’s not usually like this, it’s just with the survival show and things approaching, he has been on edge,” Chan started.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ve dealt with worse,” Minho smiled.

By the time Minho was returning to his room, it was dark out and the building was quiet. He would soon be moving across into the ‘StrayKids’ dorms, as Chan had eloquently called them, so he let himself fall onto his uncomfortable bed for one of the last times, a smile gracing his lips permanently.

Minho moved into the dorms a week later with the help of Chan, Changbin and Hyunjin. He didn’t own much, but he felt touched by their gesture, so he tried his best to find something they could all help him carry. Hyunjin didn’t question why he’d been handed 20 oranges in a box to carry, he just took it into his arms and cradled it like it was special.

They all helped Minho settle into the dorm, showing him round the small place and pointing out his bed which was in the same room as Hyunjin and Seungmin. He felt happy with this as he had quickly formed a bond with Hyunjin over dancing and Seungmin was just an easy person to be around, he didn’t feel the need to refrain from bad jokes or even silence whilst he was there.

Felix called a customary movie night now that they were all together, in which they all settled into the sofas, basically on top of each other, and picked a Korean film to watch with English subtitles to further Felix’s Korean. Though Minho felt a special piece of his heart melt away for Felix to occupy, he did sometimes struggle to communicate with him as Felix needed repetition and Chan wasn’t around to translate all the time, so Minho loved that they all did this for Felix, to help him feel more comfortable.

They went for some cheesy drama that he wasn’t all too interested in watching, preferring to stew in his emotions for a while, letting himself feel lucky to be surrounded by his new friends in a safe home with further potential. His eyes drifted around the room, landing on each person as he went, appreciating their uniqueness, their beauty, and their kindness. Once he landed on Jisung, he was startled to find him already looking, head tilted curiously. He had his legs thrown over Hyunjin’s lap, his shin being held by Hyunjin’s hand. He almost wanted to pull a face of what? but this was more than he’d ever had off the boy, so he’d take it. He sent him a small smile before moving on to the next person, but he still felt his stare burning holes into the side of his face.

Once the film was finished, some retreated to their separate rooms to sleep, read, or sit on their phones for a while, apart from Hyunjin, Jeongin, Seungmin and Jisung who stayed in the living room. Minho climbed into his bed, noting that it was slightly comfier than his old one had been, and whipped up his phone to reply to his mum’s message. He texted her everyday as promised, updating her on everything going on with the boys and the company. She was so proud of him, it made Minho happy to know he was making her proud.

“What’re you doing?” came a voice from beside him. He jumped slightly, throwing his phone on the side of his bed. He whipped his head around to see Jisung stood there, a cocky smile on his face. “Ah, something you shouldn’t be?”

Minho rolled his eyes, retrieving his phone for added effect as he mouthed texting my mother. Jisung giggled slightly, hiding his smile behind his hand. He didn’t know why, but it made Minho frown on seeing this. He patted the area beside him on the bed, a risky move considering the limited space, but Jisung clambered up behind him, peeking over his shoulder as he sent his text.

“Did no one tell you it’s rude to stare?” Minho mumbled, a smile tugging the corner of his lips.

“Did no one tell you it’s rude to invite someone to sit with you and go on your phone the whole time?” he quips back, his eyes opened wide. That makes Minho chuckle, finishing up his message before putting his phone aside.

“I’m all yours now,” Minho says, smiling as the boy flusters in front of him. He fakes pain when he gets swatted at, too, catching Jisung’s hands in his own, letting go after a few seconds.

They spend time like that together almost every night up until the survival show, giggling away at memes and videos on their phones, Jisung even introducing Minho to some of his favourite documentaries. There are a few times they end up falling asleep, crowded up in Minho’s bed, but Jisung is always gone the next morning.

They build a beautiful friendship, often found sitting close in the living room with a film on, cooking together, or simply taking strolls around the neighbourhood when the other boys are busy.

That’s why, when Minho gets eliminated, Jisung almost crumbles in front of him. Minho himself feels numb as Jisung approaches before anyone else even dares to move a muscle, crowding into him to throw and arm around his neck.

“We were meant to do this together,” Jisung whispers into his neck which he is dampening with his tears. Minho smiles slightly; Jisung is stupid if he thinks that’s the end of them. The rest of the boys join in soon, Chan apologising over and over for pulling him into this. Minho reassures him countless times that he’d say yes over and over again, even if he knew the outcome.

They make it back to the dorms and the silence is so loud, just tired feet dragging across the floors and the occasional murmur amongst them. You’d think there was an apocalypse outside with how defeated the boys seemed. Jisung was still sniffling occasionally and he didn’t know how Minho’s heart was breaking, and it wasn’t even because of his elimination. Its because, any form of sadness on his Jisung’s face makes him want to bring him a snowflake from the highest mountain if it would crack even the faintest slither of a smile he has come to love.

Minho takes Jisung by the hand that night and pulls him to his bed, wrapping him up in his arms.

“Jisung, I promise you. This isn’t ending. Just because we won’t share a stage doesn’t mean we won’t share our lives,” he murmurs into his friend's hair. The hand squeeze he gets in return is enough to satiate him, letting him fall asleep. Jisung is still there in the morning.

Jisung is also there when they get a call telling them that Felix and Minho will be coming back. He’s more excited than either of them it would seem, his eyes wide and bright again as he hugs both of them exceedingly tight.

With all of it going on, Minho realises he forgot to even worry about his soulmate. All of his bones have remained firmly in place, and he has barely any bruises or cuts on him, which is surprising. Well, that’s until he wakes up one morning with a bruise on his thigh the size of a football. He knows it wasn’t him because he can’t feel it. But it brings back all the bad memories once again, it makes him doubt his place as an idol, it makes him consider ringing JYP and telling him he was right when he eliminated him. Because how is he expected to debut with his new group, when he might end up bringing them all down with him?

Well, that’s what he was thinking, until he made his way into the living room and saw Chan sitting on the sofa with Jisung’s legs in his lap, holding an icepack up to a football-sized bruise on his thigh.

Well, fuck.

Chapter Text

Minho is still frozen in his place when Chan finally catches sight of him – he must look like he’s seen a ghost by the way Chan raises his eyebrow in question.

“What happened, Sungie?” Minho chuckles uncomfortably, pulling at the fabric of his pants, seemingly clinging to where he knows a blue mark is forming on his thigh. Jisung doesn’t notice his awkwardness, opting to turn his watery eyes on Minho. Minho hates seeing him hurt.

“I walked into the table,” he huffs, wincing as Chan adjusts the ice pack on his thigh, fingers clenching into the fabric of Chan’s jumper sleeve. Chan grimaces at him apologetically. “I forgot we’d moved it last night for the games night and forgot to turn on the lights.”

“How’d you get a bruise that big from that?” Minho asks in disbelief, shuffling towards the sofa to look at it up close. He felt the same shock to actually see it up close, to know he had the exact same mark on his own skin. The idea of Jisung being his soulmate is not as surprising as it probably should be, but it still has him reeling.

Jisung shrugs, sighing again in exasperation.

“Our Jisung is perpetually clumsy,” Chan supplies with a shake of his head. “He has had more broken bones than he knows what to do with.”

Whilst it’s a joke, Minho feels his jaw clench as he recalls the nuisance his soulmate – Jisung – has caused in his life, long before they even knew of each other’s existence. Minho holds back from snapping, however, as his soulmates eyes are still glistening with unshed tears clinging to his waterline, cheeks pink with strain. He sits beside Jisung and allows the boy to lean back into him, holding him round the middle so he can take over Chan’s job of holding the icepack against the sore skin. He won’t tell; not yet. His friendship with Jisung is precious, much more important than Minho’s selfish resentment. Chan rolls his shoulders back, jaw dropping in a barely concealed yawn.

“Did you sleep, hyung?” Minho asks him, ignoring the way Jisung nuzzles his head back into his shoulder.

“I’ve been working on the debut song,” he says in lieu of answering the question directly. This is when Minho notices the laptop open on the coffee table. His sad anger is replaced by concern for his bandmates, he hopes they’ll learn to look after themselves more.

“Go and sleep for a bit, we don’t need to head out for a few hours. I’ll watch Jisungie,” he offers, using his toe to poke at Chan’s thigh. Chan looks ready to protest until he seems to register how tired he truly is. His hair is a curled mess atop his head and his eyes are tired and dull. Chan nods, patting Jisung’s good leg before standing up and trudging off to his room.

They sit in silence for a while, Jisung dozing off against his shoulder as Minho holds the icepack. He wonders why Jisung had always broken his bones growing up because, to Minho, he never seemed to put himself in the line of danger. The boy spent most of his time at a computer desk, writing lyrics.

As it was still early morning, Minho also found himself fighting the closing of his own eyes, warm and comfortable with the weight of Jisung against his chest. After a while, he stopped fighting it and let himself sleep, grip tight around the small waist under his arms. He pushed a pillow under his hand so he wouldn’t lose the icepack as he slept, and pulled the sleeping body impossibly closer to him, burying his face in sleep-scented hair, inhaling before getting as comfortable as possible, “Sleep well, Jisungie.”

When he stirred awake again, he found they’d been covered by a blanket and the sound of some of the other members pottering about was a comforting back noise as he came to. His hand had gone slightly numb from the ice pressed against it, but the warmth of Jisung contradicted the slight sting.

“You’re awake?” Jisung murmured, trying to turn his head to look at Minho but ultimately giving up after registering their position properly.

Minho considered his answer, he could probably say he was still dreaming with the new information plaguing his mind, but he sleepily nodded instead, resisting the urge to press a kiss to Jisung’s shoulder, “What time is it?”

“8am-ish.”

Minho resisted a groan, peeling the blanket away from their right side to look at the bruise on Jisung’s thigh. It seemed a lot less red and inflamed now and he allowed himself to trace the outline of it with his finger, “How is it?”

“Feels a lot better, thanks hyung.”

They finally moved when Felix came barrelling into the room, jumping on top of the two to cuddle close, albeit uncomfortably. It filled Minho’s heart with soft joy as he ruffled Felix’s hair, who complained half-heartedly as he had just managed to tame it after his shower. He felt at home with these boys, he allowed himself to feel free.

He left the near-twins cuddling together so he could leave to the kitchen to get coffee for them all – hot chocolate in Felix’s case. He leaned against the side waiting for the water to boil as he contemplated everything he’d learnt that day. Despite his shock at Jisung being his soulmate, he felt a peaceful contentment with it, too. Because he knew it would be easy to love Jisung, in theory, he probably already did, but he also knew it would be hard. They couldn't date in their predicament and they were already set for debut so it’s not like one of them could pull out. Whilst soulmate connections weren’t necessarily romantic, he had a feeling his would be. What his mum had said to him was ringing in his ears.

You will love them so much that you won’t remember the hurt they’ve caused you. You won’t be able to take your eyes off them, you’ll want to protect them from the world.

He supposes it’s true, really, because Jisung and him just clicked. He thinks that, if he had his way, he would spend his life wrapping Jisung up in bubble wrap so he didn’t hurt the way he had his whole life. He was still pissed, but in the end it worked out. He hadn’t had any breaks that had fucked up his chances of being a dancer, in the end his tour injury didn’t withhold any opportunity from him, it helped him in fact. And clearly, it wasn’t done with malice, Jisung really was just fucking clumsy. He smiled as he poured their drinks into mugs and took the boys theirs before returning to get his own. He sipped at it whilst sat on the armchair across from them, reluctant to weasel his way back into the comfortable hold Jisung and Felix had found themselves in. They looked adorable, all glassy-eyed and rosy-cheeked from sleep, Felix curiously rubbing at the bruise taking up the whole of Jisung’s small thigh.

“This is almost impressive,” he remarked, giggling at Jisung’s eye roll.

“I wish I saw it that way,” he mumbled. And it made Minho consider his soulmates hardships in life. Not only had he broken 7 bones, but he felt every single one of them. Every break in precious skin and Minho knows it must’ve hurt from the surgeries he himself had had to go through to manoeuvre the bones back into their place. Jisung was just breakable and that wasn’t his fault.

They lounged around for a while until every member was bustling around the place to start preparing for the day. They bickered as usual over their allocated bathroom times, who was going to prepare breakfast for who, and what cars they would take to the company. Minho just watched on fondly, offering himself up as the last bathroom user to allow his friends as much time as they needed.

They made it to the cars after a surprisingly reasonable time of preparation, even their manager seemed confused as they climbed in just a bit after their expected time. The day was warm and most of the members had opted for shorts, but Minho found himself clad in full-length pants so no one would see the suspiciously unpainful mark on his thigh. The ride was loud, the members were all excited for debut having been working on their skills for many months, learning new choreographies and lines. Minho usually kept to himself during these times. He could be one of the loudest members if he wanted to be, but he preferred to stay quiet and smile as the younger boys of the group chatted animatedly. He was happy to see them happy; this is what he’d always wanted. To be part of a group who had fun together and loved each other, dearly.

Once they reached the company, they made their way to their practice room. Since they knew the dance, they didn’t need a dance teacher with them, so they all trusted Minho to help them polish up where they needed to and they listened to Chan as he discussed upcoming schedules that they needed to abide to. The atmosphere was intense in the best way possible, magically overwhelming.

They danced to their hearts content, but as the day went on, Minho found it harder to concentrate with the onslaught of heat. He’d taken his hoodie off by this point, but all good things must come to an end - such as his short-lived relief period.

Jisung took another tumble in practice, whacking his arm against the floor as he went. Minho flinched as he remembered the feeling of the plates and rods, he’d had in that arm, too. Jisung laughed about it, but everyone else was instantly concerned, Chan rubbing at the bridge of his nose before heading off to grab yet another ice pack.

A bruise formed quickly, meaning Minho was left to shrug his hoodie back on with tears in his own eyes. He quickly wiped them away and assisted in helping the others with the dance as Chan tended to Jisung’s arm. Luckily, it wasn’t major, and he started to dance again after half an hour of icing the area. He supposes he had to take special care since his bones were probably fragile and easier to break.

Minho found himself unable to continue, choosing to sit against the cool mirror as he sweated his ass off, his skin tasting salty where he worried the area around his nail in between his teeth.

Chan eventually called a break, letting the boys rest and drink their water. Minho found himself with a lapful of Jisung quite quickly, the other boy draping his body against him with intent. Minho grumbled, “Too warm, Sungie.”

“Take your jumper off, hyung?” Jisung suggested innocently. Minho was watching the pull of his neck as he downed the water in his bottle, feeling his own mouth go dry. He wanted to wipe away the droplet running down his chin.

“Minho, can you come with me to revise your rap in District 9?” Chan’s voice came from above him. Minho was about to protest because he’d gone over it hundreds of times, but a stern look from their leader had him backpedalling on his words. He released a complaining Jisung from his hold, carefully patting at his hair and depositing him off onto Changbin before following the leader through the hallways to their recording studio. The door was pulled open and then locked behind them.

The silence was awkward until Chan fixated on him, “Take off your jumper, Minho.”

“Aish, that’s a bit forward, Hyung,” he tried to joke, but the sweat on the back of his neck turned cold as Chan stared at him.

“Seriously. Take it off,” he said, eyes narrowing. Minho hesitated, biting his lip. He didn’t want anyone to know because that would mean confronting the issue at hand, but Chan was their leader, so he couldn’t really say no, either.

“It’s a bit too cold for that, don’t you think?” he tried. Chan didn’t reply to him, just crossed his arms and sighed in a mother's way of saying I’ll stand here all day.

Minho could’ve screamed with the anxiety he felt. He was tugging at the bottom of his hoodie, really weighing the benefits and risks of him just up and leaving. Unlocking the door and fleeing from the company building, preferably to a cold mountain where he could drown himself in the snow. Chan wasn’t letting up though, and he knew he’d find out one day.

With shaky hands, he reached for his hoodie, giving Chan an apologetic glance before pulling it off. Instantly, Chan’s hands were poking at the bruise on his arm. He thought about pretending to flinch, but Chan was always a step ahead of him.

“Jisung, huh?” Chan smirked, poking more insistently at the bruise as if to mock the way Minho didn’t feel a single thing. Minho was confused by the way he said it. There was no anger or worry on the leader's face, just pure smugness as if he’d been the one to personally solidify their soulmate bond.

“I guess…” Minho hesitated, folding his arms. “Where’s the lecture?”

Chan tensed up at that, a sad crease forming between his eyebrows, “I should say congratulations, right? There’s no lecture. I trust you.”

“He doesn’t know,” Minho admitted. “I only found out when I woke up with the new piece of art on my thigh.”

“Can I see?” Chan asked. He seemed nervous for the first time since Minho had met him. He realised that, whilst this was new for him, it was also new for Chan. He’d never been the leader of a pre-debut group before, who were already growing a solid fanbase. The company legally couldn’t do much about it since soulmate connections were random and unbreakable, of course, unless they dated before their dating ban was over, not that they would do that anyway.

Minho nodded slowly, moving to check the door was locked before pulling down his joggers where he wore the mark.

“Incredible,” Chan whispered, kneeling to inspect it. He’d been the one to ice Jisung’s all morning so Minho supposed it must be strange to Chan to see the exact same mark on his other friend's leg. “Are you going to say anything?”

Minho thought about it, but he shook his head, “Not for a while.”

“I respect your wishes. We really need to get you into something that won’t have you passing out from heat exhaustion, though,” he muttered, beginning to pace his small studio. “I have a spare long sleeve in my bag. You will still be warm, but that’s unavoidable unless you go in there like that.”

Minho couldn’t think of much worse, so he waited for Chan to return to the dance room to retrieve his spare and bring it back for Minho. He accepted it gratefully, pulling off the t-shirt he had under his hoodie and replacing it with Chan’s long sleeve.

Once satisfied, Chan patted his back and led them back to the practice room where the others were all waiting for them. No one questioned his outfit change which he was grateful for, instead, he started calling the boys up one by one to watch them do the choreography so he could give personal pointers.

By the end of the day, they were all tired and hungry, deciding to head home where Minho could make them something tasty for their dinner. He settled on a fried rice with some meat on the side, humming to himself as he prepared the ingredients. Minho always had the younger members hanging off him as he cooked, particularly Jeongin who had taken an interest in the elder, watching him. He asked careful questions about cooking and Minho felt himself swell with pride as the younger displayed interest in learning these life skills he felt were so cruelly ripped away from him at such a young age.

“Are you nervous about debut, Minho-hyung?” he asked. It was the first insecurity he’d heard from the younger and it made him frown.

“I am,” he said truthfully. “But I know we’re ready. I know it’s scary, Jeongin-ah, but we will get through it together.” He struggled with sentimental words, but he knew it was appreciated by the younger boy. The cooking went on in a comfortable silence for a while until the rest of the maknae line came barrelling in followed by Hyunjin, having finished their showers, and getting ready to eat. They all set the table together and put each person's drink at their assigned seat, already familiar enough to fall into an easy rhythm.

Minho dished up the food with the help of Chan and ushered the kids to take their seats as he placed their food in front of them with a cheery, “Eat well!”

Once he was sure everyone was settled, even Chan, he took his own seat beside Seungmin. They all thanked him for the food, and they tucked in, hums of appreciation being the only sound amongst them. Minho felt so safe and happy, surrounded by his members, his unbeknownst soulmate, and the domesticity of the large table. He smiled to himself.

Debut came quickly and unforgivingly, all of them wiped off their feet with exertion as they made their way through gruelling schedules. They were too tired to do much in-between, using their sparse moments to eat together and discuss their worries, and achievements, with each other. It was all exciting and new; Minho knew the exhaustion would be worth it. But he knew each member took it differently. Felix was thrown into a world he never could have prepared for back in Australia. He was still developing his language skills so found himself lagging in interviews, Chan had the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes, worrying more for others than himself, the younger members balanced school and performances and expectations exceedingly well and Minho had never felt pride like it. He could see it wearing on them, though. Debut had been a massive, painful blur and the conflicting emotions were so much to handle for even someone like Minho, who had unfairly been labelled as the ‘cold’ one of the group, which hurt him more than he let on. The other members adored him, and knew he had a heart too big sometimes, and it hurt them, too, to see their member struggle with his new image.

“It’s not true,” Jeongin had defended angrily, his pout so cute that Minho wanted to squish his cheeks between his palms.

“It’s okay,” Minho smiled softly. They were all sat round in a circle in their dorm, full and satiated from the large celebratory meal they’d eaten. “As long as the right people know who I am. Besides, it makes people less invasive.”

He knew he was only saying it to reassure the younger because he didn’t want people to think that of him, but he also knew that his members loved him a lot. And it’s not to say the fans didn’t, some of them went crazy for him, and he knew every member was having their personality picked apart, too. Chan was the assertive leader, Felix was sunshine, Seungmin was sarcastic, and Minho was mean. They shared pre-debut stories with the fans, some of the stupid arguments that had occurred, and the rivalry between Hyunjin and Jisung that had arisen as nerves got the best of them. They were all still young and hormonal, they’d figure it out.

They had months of this which turned into a year, constantly working and improving and changing. Their looks changed as they got older, they all became sharper, stronger, and more muscular. Changing from boyish good looks into masculine, handsome young men. They grew and grew, their fanbase multiplying day-in and day-out. Luckily, Minho’s well-kept secret stayed to himself, Jisung never found out about their bond because Minho was far too careful to not bruise his own body and all of the members had bumps and scrapes appearing on them, so no one looked into it too closely.

Well, until they did.

Minho had been out with Chan, eating at a low-key restaurant near the company where they could keep to themselves. They were talking about their latest comeback, nearly a year after their original debut, when he felt it. He’d become attuned to his body more, having to put so much careful control into it when dancing that every new sensation he felt didn’t go unnoticed. So, he did feel a slight twinge in his back, the locking of a muscle and the slight shift of something. He stopped eating suddenly, making frantic eye contact with Chan.

“Jisung is hurt,” he muttered, pulling himself away from the table and dragging Chan outside. Chan looked like he’d seen a ghost, eyes quizzical. Minho essentially ran to the dorms, letting them in and calling for the others.

“Jisung!”

“In here!” Came a reply from Changbin. They entered the living room to find Changbin kneeling on the floor beside Jisung who was lying down, a pillow cradling his head. He was crying desperately.

“What happened?” Minho breathed, joining them, and reaching for Jisung’s hand who gripped at him tightly.

“I don’t know,” Changbin replied, eyebrows creased in worry. “We were just talking, and he fell. He won’t talk to me.”

“Sungie, baby,” Minho began, pushing his fringe away from his head. “It’s your back, right? What happened?” he tried.

“Hurts,” was all he got. Seungmin came running in then, a bowl cradled in his hand which he placed beside Jisung who gagged before leaning over to throw up into it. Minho held his hair back, giving a look of desperation to Chan who seemed shocked by the display before him.

“Chan, call someone!” He prompted. The leader looked scared; this was his first responsibility where one of the members was in proper peril. He snapped out of it quickly though, muttering quietly to one of the managers on the phone.

“It’s from the pain,” Seungmin said quietly. He’d turned to comfort Minho, rubbing at his shoulder as Jisung finished with the bowl.

“How many times has he thrown up?” Minho said, helping to readjust Jisung into, what he hoped was, a comfortable position.

“Just twice,” Changbin confirmed. He held Jisung’s other hand as Chan finished up on the phone, informing them someone would be coming to collect Jisung and take him to the private hospital.

Everyone fell quiet apart from the quiet sobs of Jisung, worry taking over all of them.

“The others are at the company and Felix is at his language lessons,” Seungmin said, answering Minho’s next question before he even had time to ask it. Minho rubbed at Jisung’s earlobe, having discovered it was a good way to calm his anxiety pre-debut when his nerves were heightened.

“Wait,” Changbin said, locking eyes with Minho who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “How did you know to come?”

Minho didn’t think about how he’d exposed himself, too worried about the injured boy. He searched frantically for an answer but came up with nothing. He sighed, nodding at Chan, then looking back at Changbin.

“I guess it was just an instinct.”

Chapter Text

The company ends up sending some transportation from the private hospital for them, worries of causing further injury to Jisung plaguing their minds. They really don’t know what’s wrong, what could’ve led to the rapper being muted with pain. He’s barely conscious as the medical staff arrive. They ask Changbin and Seungmin questions about what happened as they put a needle into Jisung’s arm to give him a strong pain medication, they ask Chan to dig around in the drawers to pull out Jisung’s medical and personal records which they had all had to provide upon entering the company for situations like this.

They’re quick on getting him onto a stretcher after the pain medication kicks in, asking who will be joining him. Chan pulls one of the paramedics aside, glancing at Minho as he speaks. He sees the paramedic nodding along, a look of almost surprise on his face as he follows Chan’s eyes. After some silent communication, the paramedic approaches Minho and informs him he will have to come, too, and Chan grabs Minho’s folder from the drawer. His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I’m fine,” Minho says seriously. “I’m coming anyway to look after him, but I don’t need to be seen?”

“You do,” Chan pushes. “We don’t know what this is, Minho.”

He leaves no room for argument and Minho is so tired.

The drive to the hospital is tense between Chan and Minho. The paramedic stands by Jisung, keeping an eye on his vitals. The boy in question is almost high on the painkillers, watching with rapt fascination at the continuous drip into his arm from the IV. He’s watching as the bag swings slightly from the moving vehicle, pupils shifting side to side with it. Minho worries it will make him dizzy.

Once they arrive, they’re taken into one of the rooms reserved for private guests and handed over to the doctors who take notes on their own computers from the paramedics.

“This is stupid,” Minho hisses as he is looked at once again. “Jisung is the one who needs help here.”

“Minho,” Chan sighs, his façade breaking. The circles under his eye appear even darker than they had been a few hours ago. “This could be a surgical matter, or it will need therapizing at the least. You might not feel it, but you have the exact same injury.”

Minho knows, he just feels like being difficult for a while longer. He is torn between that selfish resentment and worry once again.

The doctor arranges both Jisung and Minho for urgent scans and bloodwork, which Minho tries to argue against until Chan himself holds Minho’s arm still for the doctor to look for a suitable vein.

The issue of getting Jisung into his gown arises quickly. Whilst the boy was not in as much pain anymore, they still worried they would cause more damage and he was still relatively close to being knocked out, so they decided cutting his shirt off would be the most suitable option. He did protest a little bit, not far from acting like a child, but a lot of the nurses seemed to find his pout adorable, one even going as far as to pinch at his cheek as the scissors cut through his thin shirt. He barely repressed a shiver as it was carefully manoeuvred away from his body. Minho was on the constant edge of tears as he watched him struggle, Chan not far from the same emotion. Chan hadn’t really let go of Jisung’s hand the whole time, whispering reassurances to him when he’d reach a peak moment of pain. Minho had changed into his own gown long before they finally had Jisung ready to be taken down. They insisted on putting Minho on a bed because he wouldn’t be able to tell if his injury was worsening with the lack of pain signals. He was grouchy the whole time, tempted to completely disregard the doctor’s orders out of spite, but he wanted to get home quickly and feel sorry for himself there.

However, things did not go the way he had planned.

He sat in agonising silence as he waited for their scans to be reviewed, their wait time was drastically cut by their status which made Minho sad in a way as he didn’t see the need to be prioritised. They’d placed him and Jisung in separate parts of the private wing as he still didn’t want Jisung to know, meaning Chan had called for someone to come and keep him company. He resisted the help, but Chan insisted that he didn’t want to have to keep leaving either of them if he split his time between the pair.

Lucky for him, it was Seungmin who later joined him in his room with comfier clothes for him to change into and a lack of questions. He did give him looks as if he knew, but he guessed everyone would know by now. Unless he faked that he’d also had a freak accident.

Their brief conversation about their upcoming dance practice arrangements was interrupted by the opening of the door and the doctor announcing his arrival. The look on his face was similar to that of the doctor who had once told him his foot was broken at one of the peak times of his upcoming career. He braced himself for it, even going as far as to grab Seungmin’s hand (who usually blanched at physical affection).

“You have a herniated disk in your back,” he explained, bringing up the scans and pointing out areas to him.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he said through gritted teeth.

“We can give medication to reduce the pain and discomfort and see if it clears up but…” the doctor seemed scared to carry on. “Since yours doesn’t cause you pain, we won’t be able to tell if it’s getting worse over the usual 6-week assessment period.”

“Then just bring me back in for regular scans,” Minho whispered. He could tell where it was going. “Monitor me through Jisung’s pain.”

“The thing with soulmate injuries is that you can only cause the initial injury to each other, but the progress of healing isn’t affected by that. This is your injury now and how you and he heal separately depends on your own body. The acceleration or deceleration of your injury doesn’t correlate,” he explained.

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, you need to have surgery.”

***

He had sat in stunned silence for a long time after the doctor left. Seungmin didn’t leave his side but had turned a few shades paler.

“Minho- “, he’d tried, but he shushed quickly at the look on Minho’s face. He opted to not let go of his hand instead and comforted him that way.

They waited for what felt like an eternity before Chan came into the room.

“We can go home,” he said without really taking in the down-turned faces of his friends. He stopped when he did notice, frowning. “That’s what we wanted, right? Why do you look so sad?”

Minho didn’t care for soft right now. He moved to stand up before the grip on his hand made him relax again. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before meeting the leader’s gaze.

“I’m not going home, Channie-Hyung,” he whispered before he let the first tears fall. He curled in on himself as he cried. Seungmin climbed onto the bed beside him, holding him close.

“Huh?” Chan whispered, also appearing at his side to rub his shoulder to try and help calm him down.

“He has to have surgery,” Seungmin said quietly over the top of Minho’s head who shook more violently at this. “Said it’s too risky to try and monitor him when he doesn’t have the pain signals.”

“Oh,” was all Chan breathed out, shocked into silence.

They carried on comforting him as the sound of sobbing became the only sound in the room. Minho felt utterly defeated – he wondered whether his life would ever be not like this. He didn’t want to hate Jisung, and he really didn’t think he did, but there was a piece of him, an ugly piece, that didn’t see reason. Jisung hadn’t even been doing anything, he’d just been standing when years of becoming an idol and then being an idol had caught up to him. His body mourned what it could’ve been as he sat helpless in a hospital bed, preparing for surgery.

Eventually, Chan and Seungmin had to leave. They couldn’t take Minho’s pain with them; they had to leave it in the eerie room where Minho had a full view of it.

They wanted to bring Jisung in to see him before they took him home, but he worried about what he might say, seeing Jisung walking out with nothing, a mere prescription clutched between his fingers and allocated weeks of rest, could make the ugliness bubble. And don’t get it wrong, because Minho could cry with happiness that Jisung was okay, that he would be fine, but the idea of a knife slicing into his own back was enough to halt those tears. So, he told them not to, to take him home and tuck him in. Not to tell him.

“What will we say?” Chan was exasperated.

“Tell him nothing,” he repeated, ending his questioning with a quick flick of his hand in the direction of the door.

So alas, Minho was alone and scheduled for surgery in the early morning.

***

The next morning, he was still awake. His eyes were burning and the sun coming in through the tiny window drove him insane. At least he’d get a long rest when the doctors knocked him out. He was receiving texts left, right and centre from the worried members. Chan had told them the truth about what was happening, and he didn’t need to see or hear their reactions to it. Jisung was the only one in the dark. Though he hadn’t replied to it, he had seen Changbin’s message reassuring him that Jisung was okay. He cared, he swears he cared, but he also didn’t really.

At around 8:30am, nurses were letting themselves into his room to prepare him for surgery. They were already dosing him on painkillers to help with the pain afterwards, trying to reassure him that everything would be fine. He didn’t feel fine. He stayed quiet as the surgeon came in to talk about the procedure and the risks associated with it. All he could hear in his brain was you will never dance again. Of course, he didn’t actually say that, but he might as well have.

“Minho,” the surgeon said, disrupting his thoughts. Minho looked at him with bleary eyes, the constant sheen of moisture starting to get uncomfortable. “You will be okay. I know you’re an idol, but after this surgery, you will have essential recovery time, but you will be able to perform again. If anything, you can wave goodbye to your career altogether if you don’t have this surgery.”

Minho nodded stoically.

After he signed consent forms and had been confirmed fit for surgery, he was wheeled down to the room where they would distribute the anaesthetic to him. Before long, he had a mask over his mouth and was counting back from 10… 9… 8…

***

The lights in the room were blinding as he peeled his dry lids open, the beep of monitors could’ve been mistaken for the usual alarms he would hear going off around the dorms if he tried hard enough.

“There you are! Good morning, sweetheart,” one of the nurses said sweetly. He could faintly feel her stroking her thumb over his hand. He tried to smile slightly, shifting a tiny bit, before squealing and freezing in position.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His back felt like it was on fire.

“The healing will take a couple of weeks,” the nurse said sympathetically as she fiddled with one of the IV’s connected to him, hooking up a bag of what appeared to be painkillers and fluid.

They took him away from the recovery room to one of the surgical wards, wheeling him into a private room on the side and putting his IV bags on a different pole.

“Your friend will be here soon. We’ve let him know you’re out,” the nurse told him. “Poor thing rang a lot of times whilst you were in surgery. We usually wouldn’t allow visitors so quickly, but I think he’d break in here himself anyway.”

Minho felt his heart swell with affection for, who he assumed was, Chan. He realised how difficult it must be for him as a leader to see one of his own hurt.

“Thankyou,” Minho said quietly. His throat was dry from where he’d been intubated, and his back was still painful; he hoped the painkillers would kick in soon. The nurse helped him to drink some water before leaving him be after fluffing up his pillows. He made a mental note to get the staff a card and some flowers for looking after his difficult self.

She only reappeared when she came in with Chan. His hair was messy and his eyes dark, as if he hadn’t slept a wink. His clothes were comfy and oversized, his face covered by a mask.

“Hi, Minho,” he breathed upon entering, heading straight to his bedside. He hesitated, his arms twitching at his side. Minho held his own arm out in invitation, giving him a side hug best as he could without moving his back. When they pulled back, Chan pulled up a chair and reached for Minho’s hand.

“It hurts quite bad,” Minho said without Chan having to ask. “I haven’t seen a surgeon yet to see how it went, but the nurse said the pain is normal.”

“We’re all so worried about you,” Chan said; his grip was tight, like a lifeline. “Jisung, he… he wants to see you.”

Minho blew out a breath through his nose, his heart twitching painfully.

“You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“Well, no,” Chan started, biting his lip. “But he saw your surgical scar.”

“He doesn’t have to know its me.”

Chan rolled his eyes, he’s sure he’d be getting a slap if he wasn’t in a hospital bed, “Minho, you disappeared from his bedside the other day and now haven’t returned to the dorms. The other members are worried, of course, he knows something is up. Then he saw the scar this morning and he just wanted to see you.”

Minho tried to hold the scowl of his face, resulting in a grimace instead. Chan noticed this and his eyes turned concerned for another reason, “you don’t, like, hate him, right?”

“I don’t hate him,” Minho rushed. “But Chan, do you know how many broken bones I’ve had? How many surgeries I’ve gone for? How long I’ve had to be so fucking careful that I’ve often forgotten how to live?”

“It’s not his fault. He’s been crying ever since he found out.”

Minho relapsed to silence and Chan didn’t push. They sat and waited for the surgeon to come by, who told him the surgery had gone well and he’d be able to return to the dorms two days later, after a bout of physical therapy to make sure he could walk.

“You can’t dance for at least 6 weeks though,” he warned. “I know, it’s not what you want to hear, but if you cause any damage or undo the surgery, you won’t be able to dance at all.”

Minho thanked the surgeon and after a beat of quiet, turned to Chan, “bring him here.”

“Jisung?”

“Yes.”

***

So, that’s how he ended up seeing his best friend again. The nurse had wheeled Minho outside to the top balcony of the hospital for some fresh air, later returning with Jisung beside her, too. She left them alone for some privacy and Minho struggled to look him in the eye.

“Hyung,” he whispered, his lip wobbling. Minho resisted the urge to reach out and touch it.

“It’s okay, Han-ah,” he said, trying to school his coldness into something warmer. Because he still felt his body light on fire when he looked at his soulmate, he still urged to touch him, hold him, and love him. He still wanted to see his doe eyes sparkle and his full cheeks bunch up around his smile. He wanted to hear Jisung’s beautiful voice and his poetic lyrics. He still wanted Jisung so bad, that it hurt more than his back ever could.

Jisung started sobbing immediately, placing himself beside Minho on the bench so he could lean into him. Minho tried to move his arms around him as much as he could, his heart was hurting to hear the cries. They didn’t speak much, even after Jisung’s cries became sniffles and the sun was starting to set on the horizon. When he pulled his head away from Minho’s shoulder, he looked into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Minho.”

Minho smiled gently – almost too gently for his cold self to process. He moved his finger up to trace across Jisung’s cheek, following around his jawline until he could drag his hand down to place it over Jisung’s heart, “Mine.”

Jisung was stunned, his lips pulling up shyly. Minho’s hand came back up to play with his earlobe and cup his jaw. Jisung placed his own hand over Minho’s.

Minho had feared seeing Jisung – he was scared he’d lash out, ruin everything they’d built between them, and that every longing glance would turn to ash. But looking at him, all he could feel was their bond strengthening, now that they both knew they could have each other, safe in the knowledge that they were literally two halves. He couldn’t even remember why he was so scared when all he felt was complete in Jisung’s presence.

“What do you want us to be? What do you want this to mean, Sungie?” he held his breath as he waited, he hoped Jisung wanted him back just as bad.

“I want-“ Jisung paused to flick over Minho’s face once more like he always did. This time was different though; this time Minho wore permission in his features, his beautiful eyes open with honesty and love, so blinding that Jisung had to fight against the urge to pull away. “I want to be the reason you feel safe, Hyung.”

Minho visibly melted at his words, tears that he’d been violently repressing gathering at his lash line.

“Jisung, I’ve never felt anything but safe in your arms.”

“Let me make it better,” Jisung whispered. He slid the hand on top of Minho’s down his hand, then his arm, all the way to the back of his neck. He inched forward so the space between them was practically nothing. “Tell me if I’m not making it better.”

Then he used the gentle hand on the back of Minho’s neck to pull him slightly forward so their lips could connect. The kiss was unhurried, just a gentle exploration of each other’s space. Their tongues pressed together, but it wasn’t desperate, not really. It was safe. Minho felt Jisung’s world opening a bit more to him. He felt pain in it, he felt sorrow and regret. He felt a promise.

They pulled away after not too long, weary of their location, but they had matching beats to their hearts, the same naivete in their bodies and eagerness to explore.

They sat and talked for a while after that, about Jisung’s past injuries. He told Minho that he had been a clumsy child, so much so that doctors worried about whether he was being mistreated. However, after careful testing, they’d diagnosed him with something called Osteopenia.

“It’s not as severe as Osteoperosis, but it means my bone density is lower than most people’s – that paired with how clumsy I am means I have broken a lot of bones.”

“I hated you,” Minho says after that, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “I told my mum I hated my soulmate,” he looked into Jisung’s eyes again. “She told me I’d love you so much, that I didn’t care when I met you. Jisung – it was an understatement. I was scared seeing you after this surgery would make me say some horrible things that I didn’t mean; it’s only made me realise how indescribably in love with you I am. I love you, I wish I could make everything better. I wish I could take your pain. I’m sorry I ever even thought that, I feel so lucky to have you that I’d take a broken bone every single day of my life if it means you’ll let me love you.”

Jisung didn’t say any words, he kissed him, though. This time deep and slow, a few whimpers slipping from him as he felt Minho’s arms grip his waist. They just kissed until the sky was dark and the stars were twinkling. They kissed until Chan came up to find them because the doctor would be making his final round soon. Kissing Jisung was like being invincible, it feels impossible, but everyone wants it. It sure made Minho feel pretty invincible.

Chan didn’t even tease them as he helped Minho back into his wheelchair and started pushing him back to his room. Jisung didn’t let go of his hand the whole way.

***

The next morning, Minho attended physical therapy where they tested his leg strength and made sure he could walk comfortably. Only Chan had come to the hospital that day as he would most likely be able to go home. He had a bit of support using Chan’s shoulder at first while walking, but eventually, he could walk by himself. It was still painful, he was slow and wobbly, but the doctor was satisfied that his recovery would be much more beneficial at home. They discharged him with the same prescription as Jisung and then booked him in for a check-up, then sent him on his way home with warnings to rest.

When they reached the dorm, it was quiet.

“I sent the kids to the company to practice so they wouldn’t all be crowding you,” he explained. Minho appreciated it, but he did feel sad that his dongsaengs weren’t there. He understood that they could cause him some damage if they got too excited about his return, though.

Just then, he heard the padding of socks along the floor. He looked up to find Jisung in the doorway, clutching at a blanket around his shoulders.

“Apart from that one,” Chan smiled fondly. “He’s also on bed rest until he can be comfortable without his painkillers.”

Minho smiled and gestured for Jisung to come towards him. He felt Chan steady him with a hand on his back, as he was still quite wobbly, when Jisung got to him, hugging him tightly.

“Everyone has made your room as comfy as possible,” he smiled, holding Minho’s hand and leading him and Chan to the room Minho shared with Hyunjin and Seungmin. Upon entering, he found get-well soon cards all over his bedside table, flowers in vases and some of his favourite chocolates and snacks on the side. His bed had been made up with the comfiest blankets in the dorm, most of them belonging to Felix.

He couldn’t hold his smile back.

“Chan-Hyung, thank you for being with me at the hospital and things, even when I was being annoying as fuck, you’ve really proved yourself to be the sensational leader I said you would be,” he hugged Chan, rubbing his back. “Now, please get some sleep before you head to see the others.”

Chan nodded softly, kissing the side of Minho’s head affectionately before leaving him in Jisung’s capable hands.

Jisung seemed shyer today, but he helped Minho over to his bed before settling him in.

“I’m going to get your medicine, I need to take mine, too,” he said, before leaving the room for a minute to return with the small pills and water.

“Cheers,” Minho joked, throwing the pills into his mouth and taking them with the water he was handed. After they’d taken them, Jisung took the water off him and made a move to tuck Minho into his bed before he was stopped with a hand on his arm.

“Join me?” Minho smiled, patting the space beside him. “Cuddling is a painkiller.”

Jisung rolled his eyes but climbed in beside Minho. He pulled the blankets round them both before turning to place his head against Minho’s chest. This way, both their back were protected from each other, but they could still be close.

“I love you, Hyung,” Jisung whispered into the quietness of the room.

“I love you, soulmate.”

Chapter Text

Minho wakes from his nap, cold and alone. His back is burning and, as his eyes adjust, he notices how dark it is outside. He must’ve slept for a while. He works on pulling himself up, wincing at every rub of his surgery wound on his t-shirt. He ends up just pulling it off in the end.

He manages to pull himself up and take his first hesitant steps towards the door. He can hear the rest of his friends in the living room, giving him the final push to join them. His steps are still slow and all he wants is some painkillers and to be surrounded by warmth again.

He opens the door as Chan walks down the hallway from his room. He notices and scowls, instantly steadying him and taking most of his body weight.

“You’re meant to be resting,” he scolds lightly, leading him carefully towards the living room. 5 pairs of eyes turn on them as they enter, a mixed bag of worry and happiness. No one moves to crowd him as Chan helps him to one of the empty sofas.

“Looking buff, Hyung,” Changbin smirks, flexing his own arms muscles at him. Minho rolls his eyes, not able to hold back the small smile pulling at his lips.

“T-shirt was rubbing too much,” he explains, getting comfier as his rests back into the couch.

“How’re you doing?” Felix is the next to speak, his words hesitant as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to speak about it.

“Better now.”

Chan smiles at that, finally leaving his spot from where he’d been helping Minho to settle, to sit in-between Felix and Jeongin again, the latter of which is quiet. Minho hates worrying him.

“Jisungie was making you food,” Felix smiles. Minho had pretended to not notice the lack of the boy in the room, since he wanted to focus on the other members, too.

On cue, Jisung enters the room looking positively flustered with a tray, lips drawn into a small pout as he moves towards Minho.

“You weren’t meant to wake up before I was back,” he whines, taking the empty seat beside Minho whilst carefully balancing the tray. He nuzzles into his shoulder slightly with a sigh, before moving back to secure the tray over Minho’s lap. Minho could cry with happiness at the sight of the little pills in the corner.

He begins eating as he waits for Chan to start his fatherly talk, repressing an eye roll whilst he chews on meat and rice.

“The doctor said Minho and Jisung will be able to rejoin dancing after 6 weeks as a minimum. I need everyone to give them space, keep them comfortable, and be attentive to their needs – as we always are. Minho will need help changing his surgery pads for a few weeks until they can be taken off,” he explains. Minho wants to coo at the widening of all the younger member’s eyes as they listen to his instructions. “We need to ensure their full recovery, but that means we need to make some changes. Minho has insisted he won’t let us cancel the upcoming stage we have, but it’ll be obvious about their connection if we seat them both.”

Some giggles fall out between the younger members at the soulmate implication, Hyunjin even wiggling his eyebrows at Jisung who blushes furiously and scoots a bit further away from Minho. That hurts more than it should.

Chan smiles fondly at their childish antics, before moving on, “That being said, we need a seated routine that involves more than just Minho and Jisung to pull it off.”

Everyone nods enthusiastically, already overlapping each other in their discussion of what they could do to make the concept work. Minho carries on eating as he listens to some of the suggestions, taking his painkillers as he finishes up his meal. Jisung is also just listening to them, nodding occasionally at their ideas. He takes Minho’s tray off him once he’s done, but he keeps a distance between them that Minho is aching to fill. He won’t though, he wants to respect the boundaries.

After their discussions and Chan writing a few ideas down, they turn away from the idea of work and think about watching a movie instead, something stupid and cartoonish that they can all appreciate without having to think too much. Jisung would usually cuddle up to him at this point, but he doesn’t. He stays back against the sofa. The distance feels like it’s burning him.

At some point, Chan says that it’s time to change the bandages on his wound. The idea sounds like something Minho doesn’t want to do.

“Don’t be difficult,” Chan smiles knowingly before he even has time to open his mouth in protest. He widens his eyes a little, Cupid's bow becoming prominent with his pout. Chan retrieves all the things, turning the light on again momentarily to show everyone what to do in case they have to do it at some point. There are many questions from the band members as Chan pulls the dressing off and wipes around it, making sure to measure the area of redness that they must monitor for signs of infection. He explains the creams they need to apply, how to cut and place the cover, and how to make sure it’ll be as comfortable as possible for Minho during the process. He catches sight of Jisung as the wound is revealed, his teeth pulled between his teeth and arms crossed. Minho notices it as anxiety. He wishes he could take it all away.

Once they're finished up and everyone has asked all the questions they wanted to, they turn the lights off to resume the movie, settling into their positions once again. Jisung seems even further away if that’s possible. Minho sighs, kicking his legs out on the sofa, trying to get comfortable as the feeling of a new bandage is strange and foreign to him. He hopes they’ll be okay, more than anything.

**

The next few days are spent choreographing and arranging a sit-down number. It leaves Minho, Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin all sitting down whilst the others dance around them in an almost haunting manner. It turns out to be an amazing number, perhaps even better than the original plans. Minho can see the weight leaving Chan’s shoulders as he takes it in when they watch the recordings back. Minho feels slightly useless on a chair. Chan tells him in passing one day, that he knows people will question why the lead dancer is one of the ones chosen to sit on the chairs, but he hopes people will like the concept enough to not be angry.

Throughout the time it takes them to learn the number, Jisung is keeping his distance. They’d not touched since the nap they’d taken when Minho had gotten back from the hospital. They’ve talked, of course, but it feels different and strained; like Jisung is holding back. Most of the members have had their turn changing Minho’s bandages, apart from Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. The younger two had been away from the rest of the band more often as they were being dragged through torturous amounts of vocal lessons for the upcoming stage. Jisung, however, just never seemed to be around when it came to it. Jisung was injured himself, so Minho assumed maybe that was why, but it seemed suspicious to him with the way he’d been behaving the other days, too.

It all came to a head one day when everyone but Chan, Minho and Jisung were out of the dorm. Minho and Jisung often stayed home to rest when they weren’t working and practising to make sure they didn’t aggravate their injuries and Chan was working on songs in the dorm’s make-shift studio most of the time.

It got to around the time Minho’s bandages would need changing. He’d been in his bed, a heat pack against his back and almost crying in pain. The wound was suffocating to him. He worried it was getting infected with the constant flames he felt on his back, the fire it inflicted him with. He couldn’t bear to wear shirts in the dorm, using his moments of freeness to lie on his stomach with his wound facing upwards, completely free of fabrics and friction. Jisung knocked hesitantly at his door and pushed it open. In his hands, he was carrying the bandages and antiseptic.

“Mind if I help?” he asked dubiously, setting foot into Minho’s room.

“’Course not,” he mumbled. He knew he looked horrendous, face puffy and eyes red from the constant tears running from them.

“Oh Hyung,” Jisung sighed, welcoming himself beside Minho to catch some of the tears.

He worked in silence on the wound, feeling his heart clench every time Minho flinched, whimpered, or cried.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung said through strained words. His fingers were gentle as he measured the redness. He applied the creams and the bandage again before making a note of the numbers. “Hyung, I think you need antibiotics.”

Minho didn’t miss the wobble in Jisung’s voice. He made a move to leave before Minho caught his wrist.

“Stop blaming yourself.”

Jisung shook his head, “It’s my fault you’re hurt.”

Minho felt hollow at his words, forgetting the pain as it moved towards his heart instead, “Don’t say that, Sungie. I told you already, I’d take this a thousand times for you.” All he truly wanted was him close.

“I’m nothing but trouble.”

“You’re the love of my life,” Minho said finally after a moment of pause. “Jisung – look at me.”

Jisung tried to avoid Minho’s gaze, but was ultimately unsuccessful, as if he was being drawn towards him.

Minho smiled gently, reaching up his finger to trace the roundness of Jisung’s cheek, “There you are. Care to tell me why you’re avoiding me?”

Jisung looked hesitant, pupils shifting side-to-side as he looked between Minho’s eyes, “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you again; I was going to try everything to keep you safe.”

“It hurts me more to not be holding you. Jisung, we’re fated together. And not because of a stupid soulmate bond, but because we’re us. I would choose you so many times over. I want you near me, you help me feel less pain. I like to see you smile, I want to love you,” Minho whispered.

“I want you so badly,” Jisung breathes. He moves his hand down over Minho’s uncovered torso, tracing the lines of his body. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“My body can be fixed, but my heart can’t.”

Jisung seems to startle at the words, a soft mix of realisation and love overtaking him. He continues his gentle exploration of Minho’s upper body, drawing patterns into the skin, tracing around the scar on his stomach that Jisung himself didn’t have due to Minho getting it before their established bond. Minho watches on fondly, giving Jisung his time to come to terms with the injury. He knows Jisung will always feel slightly responsible, but he holds no grudge personally.

Finally, Jisung traced further up the sensitive skin of Minho’s neck, so softly Minho had to gulp back a whimper, over his chin, to pull at his lips. Minho sparsely nodded before he was blessed with gentle lips against his once again. Minho lay on his side so Jisung could copy him, pressing the curves of their bodies together once again. Jisung’s hold on his face was gentle, his fingers occasionally flicking at Minho’s ear. Minho had his hands placed securely in the dip of Jisung’s waist, squeezing lightly to encourage his kiss.

---

“Minho,” Jisung pulled back slightly to whisper, their lips still brushing together. Minho hummed in understanding. He moved his hand down slightly to Jisung’s hip, using his hold to push their hips together. Jisung rolled into him, gasping against Minho’s lips.

“Okay?” Minho asks him, still helping his movement. He feels the way they press together, aligning perfectly, the feeling almost overwhelming with the amount of love he has towards the younger boy. Jisung nods, a gentle yes slipping between them before they’re kissing again. The movements are faster now, but still cautious with their injuries.

“Can I see you?” Minho finally asks.

He helps Jisung get his top off before he’s worshipping his body with his lips. The position is awkward so he can only get so far, managing to suck a pathetic little mark into Jisung’s collarbone before moving back up his neck. He makes one just under his jaw and then below his ear, “You’re so beautiful, my love.”

Jisung blushes at his words, shying away before Minho turns him back with a two-finger hold on his chin. They convey their feelings with moments of eye contact, both flushed and eager.

“I wish I could have you properly. I’d show you how much you mean to me; I’d love those insecurities right out of you,” Minho says. His fingers are tracing over the abs on Jisung’s stomach, feeling the hard muscle beneath the tips of them.

“I think I already know,” He smiles properly. “I love you, Min.”

They carry on undressing each other, drinking in new skin as it’s revealed. Minho concludes that he loves everything about Jisung, every mark and every scar. Every fibre of his being is Minho’s. Jisung’s mouth waters at the sight of Minho’s bare thighs, rubbing at them with a dainty hand, pressing into different points to hear the intake of breath. The slow roll of their hips resumes, the feeling so intimate and raw it has tears springing to their eyes. Holding each other in the comfort of Minho’s bed, their bond gets stronger and stronger until they can feel each other’s emotions, intensifying their own feelings.

“Please,” Jisung breathes, breath hitching at a particularly hard clash of their hips. Minho senses Jisung’s breaking point, moving a hand to wrap around them both encouraging Jisung to carry on moving his hips, to chase the feeling.

Jisung cums with Minho’s name on his lips, tears falling down his cheeks now. Minho leans forward to kiss them away, tugging a few times before adding to the mess in between their stomachs.

---

They bask in the afterglow together, sharing small kisses and words of affirmation, discussing what they liked and how it made them feel.

“I wouldn’t change anything about it,” Jisung says. He’d been idly rubbing at Minho’s arm, trying to keep him warm.

“Me neither. You were everything, and more, than I could’ve hoped for.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jisung smirks. Minho prepares himself for what he’s going to say.

“Where have you been hiding this this whole time?” Gesturing down Minho’s body, towards his dick that is mostly covered by the blanket they’d thrown over their bottom halves.

Minho slaps him, burning bright red as he hides in Jisung’s chest who is still cackling.

“You’re awful,” Minho whines.

“And you love me.”

“I guess I do.”

**

After a while, they decide to head to the shower. Jisung helps wrap Minho’s wound in the protective plastic wrap and they put towels around their waist before attempting to sneak into the bathroom without being caught.

Once inside, they warm the shower up before stepping in, taking care of each other’s bodies as they get clean, taking a while longer than usual as they stop to kiss often. They wash their hair and Jisung shows Minho places he’d written in the condensation in the shower that still appeared when it was being used. Minho giggles as he points out a stupid little dinosaur in the top corner.

“How’d you reach all the way up there?” He smirks. Jisung whines at that.

“You’re not even that much taller.”

“Well, we’re not called ‘tall kids’ for a reason.”

Once they’re all done, they tie the towels back around their waists and head out. Luck isn’t on their side this time as Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin are all sitting around in the living room, looking at them with the click of the door. Hyunjin sends the same smirk to Jisung that he had done that day in the living room and Jisung throws a middle finger up at him before grabbing Minho’s hand who takes them back to his room. He lends Jisung some clothes to sleep in, he himself staying shirtless and just pulling his sweats on. They decide to stay in Jisung’s bed that night as the sheets need washing and they both can’t find the energy.

“Why does Hyunjin keep looking at you like that?” Minho asks as they settle into the bed.

“It’s embarrassing, you don’t need to know,” Jisung mumbles, cheeks heating up. Minho giggles, allowing Jisung to get comfortable in their sideways hold. He kisses the top of his head gently and squeezes him.

“All the more reason for me to know, Jagiya.”

Jisung scoffs, biting Minho’s chest where his head is conveniently placed. He sucks a mark into it.

“That distraction’s not working,” Minho breathes.

“I think it is,” Jisung smirks, before pulling himself up to eye level with Minho who is already watching him. Jisung sighs, “I told Hyunjin about a tiny crush I might’ve had on you since the day I walked into that room and you were just there dancing before I’d even had a chance to say hello. What happened to buying a boy dinner first?”

Minho cackles at that, “Liked what you saw, huh?”

“Everyone did! I think even Seungmin wanted to eat you alive, and he’s Seungmin!” Jisung whines. “Any how, when we came back from the hospital, and I still didn’t know about the soulmate connection, I ended up sleeping in Chan’s bed ‘cause I didn’t want to be by myself and he wanted to make sure I was taking my painkillers during the night as he was up anyways. I asked where you’d gone, and he said you had a family emergency.”

“What does this have to do with Hyunjin?”

“Well, the next day I’d had a heating pad stuck on my back, so I kept my shirt off as it was too warm with it, but I stayed in Chan’s bed for a while because it was comfy, and I was in pain. He kept stepping out to make phone calls and then one of the times he said he’d be going to collect you. He wanted me to go to sit with the other guys, so he helped me out to the living room. Hyunjin was the first to see me and he asked how long I’d had a surgical scar on me. I said I didn’t… and I made him take a picture of it to show me.

“Chan was obviously on edge when I looked and I kind of just realised and connected the dots. Like when I fell in practice and you put your jumper back on even though you were on the brink of heat exhaustion; when I bruised my thigh and you were the only one in the dorm not wearing shorts,” Jisung reached to wear Minho was holding his waist to trace his arm again, “This faint surgery scar from where you would’ve had surgery on your arm at 6-years-old that most people could never notice.”

“You’re really something, Sung,” Minho said quietly.

“Well, it made me wonder why you tried to hide it from me – I know now that you thought you’d hate me – but I spoke to Hyunjin about it, and I told him that I was scared you just didn’t want me like that, so he called me an idiot,” Jisung frowns at that memory. “I told Chan I wanted to see you before he left for the hospital, so he told me to get ready. Hyunjin came to help me since I still couldn’t stretch properly to get dressed, and he told me that he could tell you loved me. Hence his looking at us like that,

“When he first looked at us like that, it was the day you got back from the hospital and, even though we’d already confessed to each other, and kissed, I still felt I needed to keep my distance to keep you safe, even just until you were healed. I vowed to myself that day when I saw the wound on your back, saw the amount of pain you were in, that I would do anything for you, even if that included breaking my own heart in the process.”

Minho was speechless. Jisung seemed awkward in the silence, pressing his head to Minho’s chest.

“That’s a lot for one person to handle on their own,” Minho finally said.

Jisung shrugged, “Worked out in the end, hm?”

“I guess it did. Just, please talk to me in the future.”

“I will.”

**

It had been 5 weeks since Minho and Jisung got hurt; the day they’d been preparing for had come at last. They were in the dressing room, being fussed over by makeup artists and hair stylists as they neared their performance time.

Minho and Jisung were both healing well. Minho had had a course of antibiotics after Jisung had told Chan about the spreading redness he’d found upon changing Minho’s bandages, but apart from that it was getting easier. Minho could wear anything over his wound without it hurting and Jisung had no issues stretching and changing anymore. They still couldn’t dance for at least three weeks, maybe even longer for Minho, but they were getting their spark back that had been dimmed with the whole situation.

“You look hot,” Jisung grinned as Minho was finished having his hair and make-up done. They’d dressed him in an overly tight, mesh black shirt, see-through at the top, tucked into leather pants.

Minho smirked at him before sitting by his side, squeezing his thigh with a strong grip, “And you look eatable.”

Seungmin groaned from where he’d been sat across from them, rolling his eyes, “And I’m trying to eat.”

Jisung stuck his tongue out at Seungmin childishly before manoeuvring himself until he was practically lying on Minho’s lap. Minho pulled him up until he was seated properly, pressing a discrete kiss to the side of his head. The muscle of Minho’s thigh was sturdy under him, showing no signs of struggling with Jisung’s added weight. Minho hugged his middle, hooking a chin over his shoulder to resume his conversation with Chan. Jisung settled back into his warmth, sighing happily out of his nose. He never imagined he would feel this loved and never imagined feeling like he deserved it either. His whole life, he felt sorry for his soulmate, he felt even worse when he found out who it was and just how badly he was affecting his life, but then seeing how Minho adored him in spite of it, his heart felt full.

They sat like this until their manager called them to the stage, explaining their cues. Though they’d heard it all in soundcheck, they listened just as attentively, nodding to show they understood it.

“Now, go out there and break a leg. Well, not literally,” he smirked, glancing at Jisung then Minho pointedly.

“You’re not funny, Hyung,” Jisung giggled, relishing in the short shoulder rub their manager gave him before sending them off to take position. Jisung jogged up the stage stairs until he felt Minho’s hand land on his ass in a ringing smack. He stopped to throw a look over his shoulder that made Minho grin.

“Good luck, baby,” Minho said quietly from behind him, just as they reached the edge of the stage. Jisung sent him a small heart behind his back before making his way to the chair he was starting in.

During the stage, the standing members had to flirt with the sitting members, performing what could almost be a lap dance, depending on how literally people took it. Jisung had Felix grinding next to him, offering his hand, and then pulling it away. They were trying to represent desperation and longing, always being on the edge of getting what you wanted but not being able to take the final step. Jisung was facing Minho’s chair during it, and he felt irrational jealousy about how Hyunjin was looking Minho up and down, his rhythmic hips moving a bit too close to his boyfriend’s crotch for his liking. Not that they’d labelled it yet, but it was sort-of obvious. They had to touch their partners arms, too, to show initiation and mutual want. Minho had his hands on Hyunjin’s ribs before he pulled away as if he was burned. As it got to the seated member’s vocal parts one-by-one, they had to stand and kneel to the ground. Jeongin went first, his raw voice caused silence in the room as if you could hear a pin drop; everyone was entranced by him. He fell to his knees as his note hit a crescendo, then followed by Seungmin, Minho, and then Jisung. On the ending notes, each person’s partner stepped forward to kneel behind them in a back hug, the ending of the song indicating the ending of pain and separation. Jisung caught Minho and Hyunjin looking comfortable in their hug. See, Minho was not a soft person. He loved his members, but he showed affection in different ways like cooking their favourite foods when they were sad or sick, picking up little gifts because he thought they’d like it, or ruffling their hair to make them laugh. Jisung was the only one he really showed physical affection to, with the exception of Felix who cuddled everyone when he could, so seeing Minho so comfortable in Hyunjin’s arms was unsettling for him. He knew he couldn’t be rationally jealous over it since they were all in similar predicaments with different members and he’d agreed to the performance, but he’d only just gotten Minho in the way he craved him for years. He knew it was an ugly emotion, so he repressed it with all his might.

After the show, they were taken back into hair and make-up where they were cleaned up, got to shower, and allowed to get back into their comfy clothes. Jisung felt relieved for Minho as he knew the tight pants must’ve still been uncomfortable on his back. Once ready, they crowded together to go to the cars taking them back to the dorms. Jisung and Minho were being discreetly separated by the managers to try and hide their corresponding injuries, so Jisung wasn’t surprised to see Minho being pushed into the opposite car as him. Hyunjin was hanging off one of Minho’s arms playfully and Jisung could see the cat-like smile on his mouth. Such an ugly emotion.

**

Jisung was quiet on the ride back, insisting he was just tired whilst leaning against Changbin’s strong shoulder. It didn’t feel as comfortable as Minho, and it didn’t have the comforting scent of Minho’s body wash clinging to it, but it would do for the time being. He was lulled to a gentle sleep eventually.

Upon arrival at the dorm, he stumbled out of the car, following the rest of the members inside. He was greeted instantly by warm arms around him and a familiar kiss on his cheek.

“You did so well,” Minho murmured to him. Jisung nuzzled further into his safety, reaching to clasp at his neck. He went for gentle, but a bit of possessiveness leaked in, telling of the sour mood he’d encountered towards the performance.

“You did,” Jisung sighed – he was embarrassed at how hard he had to hold back tears. He told himself he was just overwhelmed until Hyunjin tried to reel them into conversation, an impromptu games night, and he felt awful hostility towards one of his best friends.

“I’m going to head to bed, you go and play, Hyung,” he said, untangling himself from Minho’s arms. He headed to his bedroom, trying to get comfortable in his bed, failing miserably when all he could imagine was being held. He had his eyes firmly shut, approximately 100 sheep flying past his eyelids before a gentle knock on the door followed by a creak roused him to open them.

“You’re not subtle,” Minho said softly, trying to move Jisung back to make room for himself to climb in beside him. He opened his arms and Jisung was on him in an instant.

“Are you mine?” Jisung asked him, face pushed against Minho’s neck so hard that the words were almost too quiet to hear.

Minho chucked, “Well, nobody belongs to anyone-“, he started, earning a small kick in his shin. “But I am as much yours as you are mine.”

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Obviously, but what’s brought this on, love?” Minho said in concern, trying to get Jisung to remove his face from his neck to look at him. He pulled back with red-rimmed eyes, sniffling pathetically.

“I don’t want to share you. You overwhelm me in the best way possible and I don’t want to still be wondering in 5 years if we’re not actually in love enough to put a label on it.”

“Labels don’t need to mean anything. Jisung, I’d be honoured to call you my boyfriend, but I don’t think anyone needs us to say that to be able to tell how irrevocably in love with you I am. You’re more than my boyfriend,” he said, words quivering as his voice got so hushed that Jisung had to strain to hear. These were words for just the two of them. “I love you. You’re my soulmate and my home.”

Jisung smiled tearfully, guiding his boyfriend into a passionate kiss, their tongues meeting in the middle. It felt like their first one all over again, on a warm balcony at the hospital. There was no fighting for dominance as their tongues worked over each other, taking selfishly for themselves until they felt like one being.

---

That night, Minho took Jisung fully apart in his arms. He whispered praise to him as he opened him up with his fingers, he told him how beautiful he was, how he felt like the luckiest person in the world. He stroked over his sweet spot until Jisung was shaking with pleasure. Their lips rarely left each other, but their eyes were always connected when they did. If safety had a name to Minho, it was Han Jisung.

Minho slid into him once he was ready, connecting their bodies beautifully and wholly. Minho’s name was always on Jisung’s tongue, the delicious drag of their skin against one another ignited sparks between their beings. It was like a practised dance.

“Your fucking thighs are illegal,” Jisung had moaned at one point, on the precipice of full bliss. “Fucking dancers. How do you even move your hips like that?” Despite Jisung’s slightly delirious state, Minho basked in his praise, giggling to himself as it reignited his determination. He held tightly onto Jisung’s waist as he drove home until they were both panting into each other’s mouths and reaching their highs.

“You’re incredible,” Were Jisung’s first words, letting Minho explore his mouth again as they both calmed down. They opened windows in Jisung’s bedroom to air it out, cringing at the thought of Jeongin having to come in there to sleep afterwards, and cleaned themselves up with towels. They stripped Jisung’s bed before moving into Minho’s, cuddling up together to sleep their exhaustion away, happy and so in love.

---

The next morning, they admired the matching bruises on their bodies.

“It’s a bit weird to think marks I made on you whilst fucking you are now on my body,” Minho grimaced, tracing over the backwards fingerprints on his waist.

“It’s sad to think you had to get those marks but couldn’t feel what it was like to be fucked by you,” Jisung laughed, speeding out of the room, away from Minho’s grabby hands as he cackled. Minho chased him to the living room, but they stopped in their tracks as all the members were sat on the couches. They must’ve slept there after their games night – a few soju bottles were littered around.  He felt their gazes all over their naked torsos, everyone showing different levels of emotions. Jeongin and Seungmin gagged, Chan seemed grossly fond, and he’d probably spout some bullshit in English about ‘true love’ later on, whilst Changbin, Felix and Hyunjin were all giggling. Jisung felt any jealousy towards Hyunjin melt away as his friend seemed so happy for them. He felt a bit sheepish about it in fact, following Minho to throw a hoodie on before returning to sandwich themselves between the others for a lazy morning. Though their marks were hidden now, when Jisung caught Minho’s eye from the other side of the room, he knew they were there. And in the future, he knew that if he broke another bone, or took another tumble in practice, Minho would help him glue the pieces back together.

They weren’t broken like Jisung once thought they would be. They were whole.