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Summary
For a moment, Han’s heart jumps to his throat. It’s a feeling he’s only ever had about dance— that utter excitement and adoration that he can’t control, not to save his life. Minho stares back at him, drenched in sweat, his eyes sparkling brilliantly. Han squeezes his hand and gives him a thankful smile. Minho just winks and looks back out at the crowd, waving before leading Han off stage with a skip in his step.
As soon as they’re out of sight, Minho whoops, hoisting Han into a tight hug, “we fucking did it!” he says and Han giggles like a goof, his heart alight. He slaps his hands over Minho’s shoulders like he’s playing a bongo and grins.
“You caught me!” he says, because it’s all he can think about after how flawless their performance had been, “I was so scared you’d drop me.”
Minho sets him back on his feet and shakes his head, “of course not,” he says, like it’s a given, “how many times have I caught you before?”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“I’ll always catch you, Ji. Always.”
or: Han and Leeknow are best friends. They can’t be anything more… not, at least, unless they’re dancing.