MINSUNG ONESHOTS

strong hold

his stare lingers like the eye of a hawk— he's the prey, hunted by a predator. his stare lingers— not just in his mind, but in the marrow of his bones, the quiet ache of his heart, the depths of his very soul. the seconds stretch, unfurling like thread pulled too thin, binding them in a gaze too heavy to break. it holds them captive, breath hitching, thoughts dissolving, the world beyond them fading into irrelevance.

it's impossible to look away, impossible to breathe, impossible to think of anything else. it overwhelms— burning and soothing in equal measure, a contradiction that feels like both a question and the answer buried within it. he is held at gunpoint, not by force, but by something far more damning. his eyes, unblinking, are statuesque in their devotion, locked onto a single point with nowhere else to go.

the other cocks up an eyebrow, sending chills down his spine as his hands trembled with an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability, a rawness he isn't sure how to mask. the slight arch of an eyebrow shouldn't hold this much power, shouldn't unravel him like a thread pulled from a fragile seam— but it does.

his hands tremble, fingers curling as if to grasp onto something, anything, to steady himself. the chill that runs down his spine is neither fear nor cold, but something far more dangerous, something that coils in his chest and threatens to consume him whole.

his ears block out all noise, his vision blurring the world into nothing but a distant, meaningless haze. all his senses slip away, untethered, leaving him adrift in the silent abyss of his own gaze. he follows it, lets it guide him, lets it hold him in a moment where nothing exists but the weight of what lingers between them.

the soft music of the cafe slowly turned down as his ears were suddenly turned off for the day. he lost all of his senses— touch, taste, smell, hearing— everything but his sight. though, his sight only had one focus, one goal; and that was the male in front of him.

he blinks, the world around him warping like a dream disturbed. the café's golden light flickers back into focus, no longer a distant blur but something real, something present. voices are familiar, distinct, filtering in like radio static tuning back to clarity.

his fingers twitch against the cup as recognition creeps in. seungmin's voice, low and amused. hyunjin's, more animated, laced with something teasing. a laugh sounded— felix? the sound is bright, effortless.

his stomach twists.

since when were they there?

his breath stumbles in his chest, a delayed reaction to the sudden, crushing awareness of his surroundings. the tension that had swallowed him whole, the quiet abyss in which only he and those eyes had existed, is now cracked wide open, exposing him to the laughter, the chatter, the very world he had unknowingly abandoned.

his gaze flickers, betraying him, dragging itself back to the one who had held him captive, unwittingly or not.

was it the same for him? did the air still hum between them, or had it all been one-sided?

his ears burn. his grip tightens. the weight of the unspoken settles deep in his bones.

his pulse thrums beneath his skin, a steady, insistent beat that does nothing to ground him. every breath feels stolen, drawn too carefully, as if the mere act of inhaling too deeply might shatter the delicate equilibrium between them.

the warmth of the café presses in around him. it was soft and familiar. though, the air between them is different, charged, humming like a held breath waiting to be released. he swears he can feel it, the heat of the other's gaze, not just on his skin but beneath it, sinking into him like ink bleeding through fragile paper.