Minsung Oneshots

Touch me not

Stepping into Chan's party felt like entering an alternate reality. Strobe lights, overdressed people, shouts about playing beer pong on a table tennis table— the usually downbeat house had all of it tonight.

After the second hour, Jisung felt his head swirl at the overwhelming noise. And the light. And the fact that a certain sharp-jawed man in black was very clearly not meeting his eyes.

It didn't start out like that.

Hell, it wasn't supposed to start out at all, considering the fact that Jisung had determinedly denied the invitation for the party in the first place. Thrice.

At the end of the day however, overactive hormones kicked in and he found himself glued into a dark corner of the obnoxiously lit room, pretending he didn't have his entire emotional stability rearranged over the pretty eyes of a man who wouldn't even look at him.

Lee Minho was flirting.

At least, it seemed like it to Jisung, if the death grip he had on his plastic punch cup was anything to go by.

Well, maybe not flirting. But the fact that his supposed best friend wasn't even looking at him in the first place did piss him off to a large extent (Not the flirting. Definitely not the flirting).

The final straw hit, however, when some tall, dark and handsome idiot draped an arm around Minho's shoulder, all smooth talk and black suits (in a fucking party, might I add), and Minho didn't seem to mind the intrusion at all.

Meanwhile, Jisung, unfortuantely, was left to seething in private.

"You look like you need a drink" Seungmin's trademark sarcasm seemingly materialised out of thin air, next to him. Wordlessly, the boy thrust another cup into Jisung's hand, and it was a testimony to his inner turmoil that Jisung didn't even check the cup before downing the whole thing in one go.

"Jesus" He heard Seungmin mutter. "Minho's getting it today."

Another hour and Jisung found himself sprawled across the couch, a half finished bottle of soju in hand and a brain that just wouldn't quiet down.

Why?

Because seeing Minho on normal days was hard enough as is. But seeing him like this? With lights glowing across his face, occasional flashes of that godforsaken smile of his, and that tiny habit of him rubbing his neck all the time that Jisung was pretty sure even Minho himself didn't know he had?

Yeah. That was way worse than being fucking wasted.

Unfortunately, Jisung couldn't do anything much about it apart from downing the rest of his liquor.

Sometime between random couples loitering off upstairs to god knows where and Jisung close to passing out, Minho took the empty spot on the couch next to the younger.

"About time" Jisung muttered, drunk and delirious.

"Didn't seem safe for you to stay alone anymore considering the sheer amount of alcohol you ingested." Minho glanced towards Jisung out of the corner of his eyes, taking in the younger's flushed cheeks and half open eyes. His heart fluttered and he looked away quickly.

"How kind of you." Jisung smiled sarcastically, oblivious to the older's palpitations. Minho just pulled Jisung closer against him, shaking his head fondly.

Jisung snuggled in closer, resting his head against the crook of Minho's neck and sighing.

"You smell good" He murmured after a while. Minho tensed, not sure if he heard Jisung right.