Romantic, poetic Minsung drabbles

Balloons

Things were never exactly right between the two

Maybe right wasn't the best word

Normal.

Everyone in the group had a special bond, and smaller bonds amongst each other.

But something felt incredibly different between Minho and Jisung.

It wasn't necessarily electricity, nor was it fire

It was a swelling pressure

Like a balloon ready to pop

The friction of rubbing two balloons together

One is bound to explode

But for now they just remained tethered

Their strings connected and sometimes intertwined, but never letting the pressure lead to something you can't undo

You can't fix a balloon after it pops, lying in tatters on the floor

Seungmin was holding a live, various members coming up in conversation or making an appearance in person

The two were on the bed, often obscured from the camera

But the pressure was there

It was sucking the air out of the room and the walls felt smaller

Poor Seungmin.

One excused himself, the tether following close behind

Jisung climbed into Minhos bed

Just to sleep of course. They sleep in the same room. They don't sleep together. This is fine.

Minho thinks Jisung has fallen asleep, just as Jisung floats over to him, narrowing the distance between the two sharing that bed

Minho lays staring at the ceiling, trying not to combust

The pressure has always been unbearable. Imagine feeling like you're locked in a room with the air being sucked out, yet you enjoy every second of it

Minho swore his heart stopped in that next moment. He was lost in his own thoughts that he had no time to react when Jisung closed the space between them completely. He nuzzled his head into the crook of Minho's neck, letting his unconscious, sleep controlled body move him without thinking.

Except Jisung was awake

Despite the two laying and holding their breaths in total darkness, Jisung didn't dare open his eyes. He was tricking himself that he was controlled by sleep too, of course. There's no way this could happen in the daylight. The moment even the very ends of his hair touched Minho's neck, his whole body flushed with fever. He thanked the blanket draped between them that Minho wasn't touching any part of his chest, as his heart racing and pounding would have given up the whole charade.

The two froze, both voluntarily, but Minho didn't know that. The vacuum they existed in was just getting smaller and smaller, despite the room standing still.

Jisung thought it wasn't too late to roll over. A restless sleeper. Balloons on a windy day.

But he felt his hot face get even hotter. The warmth of Minhos fingertips, gently holding his chin and moving Jisung's face to tilt towards his own, gently looking down at his tether. The movement was both quick and calculated yet slower than time had ever felt for Jisung.

Jisung knew nothing of butterflies, it felt as if the only thing that had fallen into his stomach was his own heart. He couldn't control his eyelids if he tried, fluttering open immediately to meet Minho's. He couldn't define his pupil, couldn't tell you the color of his eyes in the moment, or how long his eyelashes may be, but the shadows felt like they were demanding his attention, sucking him in, like static electricity.

Minho, without hesitation yet with gentle fluidity, caught Jisungs lips in his own. It was the lightest touch either had ever experienced. It felt like only the very final cells of their skin had touched, like two fingers passing a small spark between them. Jisung swears he heard the noise that static makes when bouncing from surface to surface.

There really was no air left, neither dared to breath. Jisung was dying to gasp, to release the pressure, to-

*POP*

Anything under too much pressure eventually explodes, just as Jisung pressed his lips back into Minhos, this time with every cell and every inch of each other touching, impossible to find a gap. The two simultaneously took in a sharp inhale, before Minho quickly deepened the kiss, moving his lips but not daring to leave a single spot untouched, even for a moment. The two shared the second part of their deflation, exhaling into the kiss as Jisungs hands made their way into Minhos hair.

When balloons pop, the sound of the stretched and torn material must go somewhere. The sound pushed against their pressure, against their vacuum, suddenly expanding the room and filling every corner with the sound of the two breathing in one another, light sounds coming from the movement of their lips.

Jisung didn't need air anymore. He found it while exploring Minhos mouth, feeling like he could take all the air from the older just to feel closer to him. Minho would gladly oblige.

What goes up, must come down. The two eventually parted, but didn't get very far. The pressure was still there. But rather growing from inside each boy, it grew around them, pushing them closer and closer together, embracing and drifting to sleep in that dark, shadowy room.