LOSE MY BREATH

LMB 32

32: Reverie.

Minho was indeed there among the teenagers doing handstands, looking so incredibly unbothered with the effortless show of power that made Jisung twitch. His robes were tied to the body in a way that stopped them from dropping and showing anything. His face wasn’t even red.

And he was copying the rules in such perfect handwriting that Jisung could not match it, even when he concentrated all of his efforts while clearly not upside-down.

The rest of the disciples there, three of them, juniors, clearly could not focus on their own work. They were definitely red and a little shaky, the position actually trying their balance.

They also spent a lot of their energy just straight up staring at their Master Minho, who presumably had not ever, or at least during their disciple years, been punished for anything. This must have felt like a fever dream to them, something unbelievable and insane.

"Minho," Jisung said, and the brush movements stopped on the paper.

Minho could not realistically turn to look at him without breaking his neck or leaving the position, neither of which he was likely to do while the punishment was still in effect. However, Jisung came here for a reason.

He went to sit there before Minho, on his knees all proper, ignoring the curious looks the kids sent his way. He wanted to lean his forehead on Minho’s back, but refrained.

“Minho, you once said there’s no need for apologies between us. But you apologised first just then, so.” Jisung inhaled, then touched his forehead down, palms on the floor doing jeol. “This one apologises for his shameful conduct and begs for Master Minho’s forgiveness.”

“Jisung,” Minho said, and it sounded almost like he was shocked by Jisung’s act. Jisung kept his head down, waiting for his forgiveness.

“Jisung,” Minho said, more insistent. “There is no need.”

“If Minho has to do handstands, then Jisung has to jeol,” Jisung insisted. “The blame is either on us both or neither.”

“...”

“I would do handstands as well, if it wasn’t for that I could not keep it up for more than ten seconds without a wall helping me keep balance,” Jisung said. “Also, I don’t know how to tie my robes like that so, uh, there would be a lot of skin showing.”

One of the juniors snorted.

“Minho, I really was in the wrong,” Jisung said then, quieter, so that only Minho would hear. “It really got to me, our talk back then. About not being able to come back. So I was acting out.”

Minho placed his pen down. Then suddenly swung his legs down gracefully next to Jisung and stood up. Jisung stood then as well, meeting the searching look of Minho with a guilty one of his own.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hello,” replied Minho.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung said, and the other shook his head.

“No need,” he said. “It is done.”

“I still feel bad about it.” Jisung pursed his lips. “Minho, we have been over this so many times. Are we both so stuck in our ways that we will still be here in a few months, arguing over the stupidest things?"

Jisung thought there was something in particular rubbing Minho the wrong way with Jisung’s misbehaviour, and Jisung knew for certain that he himself took it extremely badly if Minho showed strong disapproval towards him nowadays.

At first, it had been fun to get any kind of attention from Minho, and Jisung even liked it just a little bit when Minho got angry, but not in this way. Not in the way where feelings got hurt.

Not when soon he wouldn’t be able to see him at all.

“We are not,” Minho stated, sounding very weary with it all. “Jisung. Our time together is not infinite. I would not spend it the way we have been doing for quite some time."

Jisung knew what he meant. The silence hangs heavy in between conversations. All the words unsaid. The feelings Jisung didn’t voice and Minho seemed to bury.

He sighed and leaned his forehead on Minho’s chest, and Minho let him. Didn’t even stiffen.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. We have so little time. Let’s not waste it like this, okay?”

“Mn.”

Jisung then recalled that there were other people in the room who were wringing their necks to get a glimpse of Master Han, the Rouge Cultivator, who was resting his head on their revered Master Minho's chest. These people were not able to hear their low murmurs, but they were watching them with their eyes.

Jisung cleared his throat and pulled back, and perhaps that is when he caught Minho's gaze and managed to smile. He could only muster the tiniest one, but it was genuine.