Work Text:
Beautiful You
It just feels so good to be with Changmin. So, so incredibly good.
A dusty, sparkling speck of light flickers over the heavy duvet the two entangled bodies are covered with, travelling across the frills of the long, ivory-coloured curtains dancing chillily just beside the bed. It falls on Minseok's pale yet rosy cheek and slips on to the eyelids of the boy lying tight next to him, long arms, muscular legs bending all over, embracing the younger's small body as the other buries his face deeper into the crook of his burning, svelte neck, inhaling his peachy scent to get drifted just even further into the hazy restlessness of his blazing, vibrant dreams.
Changmin nowadays always dreams very hard.
Minseok's tender gaze idles over the older's enticing features. His lower lip twitches with that tiny fleck of light wandering away, his curls falling back on to the thin, elastic material that Minseok had dressed in – a long-sleeved turtleneck all feeble of the sublime tone of babyblue, Changmin's truly beloved favourite – as he quietly breathes out. The sudden, hot waft of air abruptly hits Minseok's neck and he shivers, goosebumps running down his throat to spread swift and soon, for an eyeglimpse-like moment, cover his entire body.
It's not like he's not used to being like this, no, lying with Changmin's warm, nice chest pressed close against his own is, in fact, very usual to him, very familiar – very pleasant – and it feels just as amazing as it did the first time, when their nights still only consisted of nothing but falling into sleep together tired, eyes and lips heavy, dreams entwining like their clumsy, timid fingers seeking one another on the clean white linen as their thoughts began to muse of each other even while their hearts beat the same synchronizing, bewitching melody under the velvety veil of their colourful duvet.
Changmin might not make him feel that dizzy and somehow charmingly anxious anymore, not that Minseok could complain – Changmin might not make him feel like that but he makes him feel like the happiest person on Earth.
There's a slender bottle of coke standing emptied half on the top of the tall drawer stuck into the corner at the end of the bed and the sparkling speck of light crawls up perfectly on its marvelously craved, glass-coloured neck, widening to explore then shrinking again to leave its body that's glowing from being dipped in the cosmic hue of the tardily arriving blueberry twilight. Minseok tugs the duvet further over Changmin's shoulder that's all stiffed from the stress and frustration university burdens him with – it's not so easy to be a med student and the strain reflects hard in the weary shade of thunder grey spreading under his tightly closed, hooded eyes. He's too young – too pure, Minseok concludes, too dear – to be this worn, to be this strung out.
Minseok's fingers dig into the silken fabric drawn upon them, leaving depthless ruffles that smooth out again flawlessy as the song singing through the speaker connected to the TV chokes out into the following, foreign tune that, fortunately, sounds much more melodic and he reaches for the handset to seek something familiar, something at least slightly interesting. He moves slow and careful – he really has no intentions of walking the peacefully sleeping, distressingly fatigued Changmin. They'd just accidentally caught while skittering from chanel to chanel on the remote control and ended up watching the encore to a show the older adressed as a magnificent piece from a Deep Purple concert-circle – just another band adding to his favourites –, psychedelic chords tangling up one another as Minseok idly began to grow familiar with the croon of a loudening guitar that everyone – according to the older, at least – should've been able to recognize.
"That's Smoke on the Water, hyung, that song" Minseok mumbled against Changmin's arm. "Isn't that?"
It took a bit too long for Changmin to comprehend, but just as first words touched the head of the microphone placed in front of the singer he breathed out again on to the blue fabric that covered the younger's lean neck. "That's Smoke on the Water, baby. I'm so proud" hummed the boy. "Seems like you have spend a bit too much time with me."
Minseok laughs softly but he knows, oh, he knows so well – there's just not enough time in this world that would be too much to spend with Changmin.
There's just no time in this world that would be enough to spend with Changmin.
The chords died away and yet Minseok could barely hear the wind cackling on the window anymore as he got lost again, his thoughts rushing astray in the hazy light of the older's shimmering eyes. Changmin's just beautiful, Minseok said to himself, he's so beautiful.
Minseok wanted to tell Changmin, to tell him he's perfect, to tell him he's beautiful, to tell him that it's going to be all right and that he deserves much more, that he'll watch over his every dream but the words got stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth and Changmin had long fallen asleep.
It's gotten cold outside and the chilly wind that's howling against the window paints a thin veil of frost on the double panes that face the blurred panorama capturing the last sunlit smudges of the softly dusking city – Minseok's body's pressed hot and perfect under Changmin's erratic heartthrobs and he barely recognizes what's going on around him, not caring about anything anymore and just basking in the feeling of Changmin, basking in the feeling of being loved and inhaling what's left and stuck from the scent of the newly-bought shower gel on his skin, on his shoulder and arm, on his whole being. At first, Minseok did not like the idea of replacing the previous, tasteless brand; he feared it would take away all that inimitable fragrance of the older's beloved body.
He's beautiful.
Minseok likes when Changmin's sleeping like this. He always feels like, when Changmin's clinging this tight to him, that he has Changmin and Changmin's his, it's giving him that tingling pleasure that he's the only one the boy loves like this, the only one he trusts like this, with all his mind, with his heart all open and his eyes all closed.
He likes it when Changmin's sleeping like this but Changmin soon wakes up and when he wakes up, his lips hum a soft and wondrous love song against the touch of Minseok's adoring fingertips – he's still just in his dreams, the boy whispers to himself, still just in his dreams and so am I.
But the dream he sees is very, very much of real, it's all in his head yet it's all around them in that cramped, cozy room that's lit to a perfect hue by the artificial sparkles dancing on the ever-trembling screen of the old television. It's all around him, it's all in Changmin, in his shapeless, beautiful lips, his playfully curling, hazel locks of hair, his closed, warm and loving eyes that often just stare as though they'd see through Minseok – it's all in Changmin and the younger's quietly throbbing heart grows tame at the thought it's truly real, it's truly possible that he could love someone so, so unbelieveably and passionately much.