minsung one shots

you look good in golden light

ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ
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fluff / 4088
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minho and jisung had only been dating for a month, but already, they felt like something older. not old in the way that things get worn down or tired, but old like a song you forgot you loved until you hear it playing faintly from another room. that kind of old.

the kind that settles into your bones in a quiet way and makes you feel like maybe you've always known each other. maybe, in some other life, they'd already done all this before.

they'd started slow. or rather, minho had wanted to take things slow - careful and measured, like someone learning the steps to a song he didn't want to mess up. and jisung, all bursts of energy and impulsive affection, had learned to match that pace. not because he had to, but because he wanted to do things right with minho.

because from the very first time minho had shyly offered him his hand during a movie night with friends, pink ears and eyes flicking quickly to the screen, jisung had known: this could be something real. something worth protecting. something worth waiting for.

they hadn't said "I love you" yet. hadn't even really talked about the future. there were no big conversations, no declarations whispered late at night. but there were other things - quiet things that said just as much.

minho had a drawer in jisung's apartment now, half-full with rolled-up socks and a soft grey hoodie that jisung kept stealing. jisung had started leaving his charger at minho's place on purpose, a flimsy excuse to come back the next day.

they shared playlists made up of old songs and dumb remixes, walked side by side on late night grocery runs, and sent each other voice notes of weird thoughts and terrible puns. sometimes, they didn't even listen to the messages right away - just knowing there was something waiting felt nice. warm.

when one walked into a room, the other always looked up. not in a dramatic, movie kind of way, but in the small, involuntary light that sparked in their eyes. like they were remembering something sweet. like they were seeing something they'd missed, even if it had only been an hour.

so when jisung messaged minho one sleepy sunday morning with, "come to my apartment and help me dye my hair. dirty blonde. life or death.", minho didn't really question it.

well. okay. he questioned the dyeing hair part. a lot.

he stared at his phone screen for a full minute before replying, still half-buried in his blankets, hair sticking out in every direction and pillow lines creased into his cheek. the words dirty blonde felt like a threat somehow.

"...what happened to just trimming it?" he texted back.

jisung's reply came instantly, like he'd been waiting with the phone in hand:
"trimming is for cowards. we're doing a full rebirth. a reinvention. a soft reset. please bring gloves."

minho sighed, dramatic and fond, and dragged himself out of bed. twenty minutes later, he was on jisung's doorstep holding a tote bag with gloves, a towel he didn't mind ruining, and two canned coffees from the corner store.

ೋ˚⊹

jisung let him in with no warning, door already cracked open like he'd been pacing the entryway. he was in pajama pants and a too-big sweatshirt - one of minho's, in fact, stretched a little at the sleeves and hanging loose around his collarbones. his hair was messy, a pair of hair clips hanging off one wrist like he'd meant to use them but forgot. he looked chaotic. he looked beautiful.