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“Lee Know, please, just stop.”
It ran over and over in his brain replaying it, hearing the pain or anger, he wasn’t sure which, in Jisung’s voice. He knew it was a bad day for his friend but as usual, he pushed. Why could he never see his limits? He was softer with others, Jeongin and Yongbok (everyone was soft for the young Australian), why couldn't he be with Jisung? Was this his own version of sabotage? He felt in his heart it would only be a matter of time before he hurt the person he cared about most in the world. Was he trying to give Jisung an excuse to part or was Minho making the decision for him?
So he left. To the place he felt the safest - the practice room. He knew it would be empty and he’d be alone. Dancing was how he could think clearly, or in the alternative, which was exactly what he needed now, not think of anything. He didn’t care if this wasn’t included in the rest he was ordered for his hand; If he did hurt himself, it would be some cosmic punch for being an ass. Peeling off his top layers down to his tee-shirt, he kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks; He wanted to feel the flooring under his feet.
Next he stood at the computer finding the compilation of music he wanted; Searching for one with the right beats per minute he felt the moment called for. Then, camera and mobile setup, on the off chance he hit on some choreography that he could use later.
Walking to the middle of the room, his bare feet making a soft patting sound, he sat and began to stretch. Cosmic punch aside, it really wouldn’t do him any good to get hurt now - hurting his hand on personal time was dicey enough. The sound of the first song filled the room, Hyunjin’s soft voice crooning over the track Chan expertly worked around the lyrics. Don't love me anymore, don't drive me insane With that gaze of yours, full of hurt Right before the chorus, the music stopped. Glancing over, thinking that something was already wrong with his plan, he saw Seungmin.
He let out a heavy sigh. “What?” he asked to his interruption, not hiding his irritation.
“Drink first,” he said as he rolled a water bottle, somehow precisely to Minho’s hand. He could be annoying that way. “Don’t cramp up. And should you even be doing this?” Acting more and more like a hyung every day, Minho thought.
Unwilling to admit that Seung was right, Minho picked up the bottle and opened it, a scowl on his face. As he drank, he held up his wrapped hand; it was more or less a boxing wrap but it would, in theory, protect him, pausing to reply “I’m good.”
“Are you? Or are you just being an idiot?” It was also annoying that Seungmin had somehow become immune to the patented ‘Lee Know stare’. He blamed overuse or virtue of them living in such close proximity. “You know he didn’t mean it.”
“I’m not taking life advice from a puppy,” he said before taking another long drink, emptying the small bottle.
“Good thing I’m not giving it,” he said. “I’m just saying you’re being an idiot and pouting.” Instead of answering, Minho chucked the bottle in Seung’s direction, who caught it, aggravating Minho even further. “Don’t break anything,” he said as he turned to go.
“Turn the music back on!”
“No.” The soft sound of the door closing meant he was alone again.
He continued his stretches, extending limbs and holding them in place until the slight burn went away, muscles warming with the actions. Muttering, he stood and returned to the computer and started the music again, rolling his head and stretching his neck. Rooting around in one of the cabinets, he found a blindfold he liked to use - it was a long disregarded ear muff but it worked for him. With it around his neck, he moved back to the center of the room. He took in his sight lines, pulled the muff over his eyes, and just began to move with the music.
Without visual markers, he could concentrate on the feel of his movements instead of seeing his reflection in the wall of mirrors he faced. He could let the music dictate how he danced, how he moved his body, instead of what he thought he should be doing based on what he saw.
Song after song after song played and he danced, not thinking or planning, just reacting. There was a freedom in this exercise - so much of his life was choreographed to the step but now, he just let his body move. Before long, he heard the door slowly open and quiet footsteps indicating someone came into the studio and closed the door behind them. He could rule out a few by the lack of interaction. Channie hyung, Binnie, Seung (if he returned), and Innie would all say something to him; Jinnie, Yongbok, and Jisung would stay quiet until he stopped. The longer the silence continued, the more he was convinced it was Jisung.
He let out a long slow breath as he lowered to his knees; he was drenched and breathing heavily. Before he could say anything, he heard Jisung.
“I never get tired of watching you dance,” he said quietly. “It’s different from Jinni or Felix.”
Pulling the fabric away from his eyes and over his head he looked toward the voice - Jisung was on the floor, his back against the wall, his knees to his chest, and his arms circling his legs making himself into a small ball. “We learned differently,” he said simply. A part of him just wanted to run away, not have these feelings for his friend and being blunt in replies was his first step in ending a conversation before it started.
They looked at each other in silence for several long seconds before Minho looked away, moving to sit differently, taking his ankle into his hand and massaging it. Jisung spoke again. “I know I’m hard to deal with sometimes,” he said quietly.
“Who told you that?” he fired back, his eyes back on Jisung, angry that someone would even suggest that.
“No one has to. I just know,” he replied with a shrug. For all the confidence Han Jisung had, there were moments of crippling doubt. “I get anxious and I don’t know how to fix it. Then the panic comes in and I say things and I never consider they might hurt people I care about.” His words came out in a rush as he tightened his arms around his legs, making himself seem even smaller. “I push away the people I want around me the most.”
Slowly standing, he walked over to the younger man and offered his hand. “Off the floor,” he ordered, waiting for Jisung to take his hand. Tentatively Jisung took it, never taking his eyes off Minho and didn’t fight the pull that brought him to his feet. Without letting go, Minho walked to the seating along the wall, only letting go when Jisung sat. He then went to get a towel and more water, bringing over two.
Everyone close to them knew what personal hell Jisung went through with the Five Star comeback and it was then where Minho did his deepest dive to learn about anxiety and panic attacks. “There are times,” Minho started quietly as sat and used the towel to wipe the perspiration from his face and hairline. “When I’m not sure what you need when the panic hits. I’m trying to learn and I know too many people asking what’s - ”
Jisung cut him off. “You so often do exactly what I need. I don’t think you get that,” he said, taking the water bottle and a drink. “You stop the attack before it grabs hold and I need that. I want it to be you,” he added, lowering his voice. “I never want to lose that.”
After putting the towel down next to him, Minho said “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”
And just like that, Jisung smiled his bright smile at Minho. It was as if those words unlocked whatever had gripped him so tightly. “Promise?” he said, holding out his pinkie finger, turning slightly as he leaned closer
Before he met the other seven, Minho would have fiercely argued that he wasn’t a fan of skinship, but now? He understood the concept more than ever. There was a comfort in the contact. Jisung was close, his chest touching Minho’s shoulder, wiggling his pinkie and looking more and more like the Han the world knew. He glanced sideways and linked his pinkie around Jisung’s. “Promise.” Jisung held it tightly.
“I’d hug you but you’re all sweaty,” he said, this time his turn not to let go.
“I should get cleaned up,” he said, somewhat absently, looking at Jisung.
“Yes. Yes you should. Because I really want to hug you,” he said with a laugh. Releasing their pinkie grip, Jisung instead took Minho’s hand, pausing for a moment, brushing his fingertips against the inside of Minho’s wrist. “But I need to tell you something,” he said, his voice going serious again. “I lied before.”
Minho took a slow breath, trying to not let his heartbeat race again, but he tried to pull his hand away. “When?”
“No, no,” Jisung whispered, sensing the concern in Minho’s voice, holding his hand now with both of his. “When I said you were always around me.” Confusion must have been evident on Minho’s face. “With Changbin, on ‘Two kids’, saying it was too grand to say you’re like air. That was the lie,” he said, as he turned Minho’s hand over, tracing the lines on his palm, watching his fingers and not looking at Minho. “You are like air. I need you. When you’re not around, I feel like I can’t breathe,” he continued, his voice now a whisper.
When Minho didn’t speak, Jisung continued. “And I want you to be able to come to me when you want to relax or need comfort. I want that. I want that for us.”
Instead of continuing, the smaller man stood, still holding Minho’s hand and simply said, “C’mon,” before backing up, pulling the other to his feet. “Dance with me.”
“You said I’m all sweaty and the music is off.”
“I don’t care, and Lee Minho, I know for a fact that you always have music in your head,” Jisung said with a light laugh, taking Minho’s free left hand and putting it on his hip, pulling their joined hands to his chest, then wrapping his other arm around Minho's strong shoulder. Jisung then began to hum as he swayed softly. Minho recognized it immediately - he helped write the song.
Before he could protest or pull away, Jisung began to sing softly.
I wonder if the cold days were difficult
Do you think I don't know how you felt? Ah
You were the light in the shade
Reach out so I can hold your hand
'Cause I'm right here, waiting for us
At times, I was afraid
I didn't think you'd ever come again
So I'll tightly hold your hands
No matter what moment comes
I won't let you go