Minsung Oneshots

The next birthday

12:02 pm, 25th October, 2018

"What. . . are you doing?"

Jisung jumped halfway through the air, spinning around so fast he probably got whiplash, only to see Minho standing in the doorway of the tiny dorm kitchen, an unimpressed eyebrow raised at him.

Jisung couldn't blame him, honestly. The kitchen did look like a nuclear bomb had gone off, what with the modern art of eggshells, sugar, and chocolate painted all over the countertops, and a single, lone, spatula balanced amidst the mess like the eye of the storm.

Jisung gulped, suddenly all too aware of the mess he had created. “Making a mess?"

The eyebrow floated higher, threatening to disappear into Minho's hairline.

"You planning on cleaning it up?"

The clock chimed. The oven dinged. And Jisung spun right around, busily getting to work in extricating the lopsided cake remains from inside the softly smoking oven.

After a longer than required minute, Jisung turned, a nervous smile on his face as he held up the chocolate cake. It looked rather like a brick, with slightly too dilute icing and a colour far too dark to be obtained from an acceptable amount of cocoa powder used. Nevertheless—

“Happy birthday, hyung.”

Minho stared. His world seemed to tilt for a second, as he gazed at the earnest younger standing in front of him— scared, nervous, yet trying his best.

“For— for me?” He choked out, after a minute, still looking like he’d been smacked across the face with an aggressive love letter. Gone was the facade of sarcasm. Instead, a foreign, fluttery feeling enveloped him— something he had not felt in a long while.

The smile dimmed from Jisung’s face, giving way to his signature sarcastic smirk Minho had seen, oh so often.

“Well I don’t happen to know anyone else who’s birthday is on such a cursed day, so, yep.”

The older blinked, lips twitching upwards. “Did you just insult my existence?”

“I’m preparing for war in case you decide to diss my cake.”

The older laughed. Not a scoff or a chuckle or a mockery; a proper laugh of amusement and admiration. He came up to the defiantly waiting younger, picked up a fork and against all his better judgement and logic, took a bite out of the cake— which, in all its actuality of being slightly burnt and slightly more biscuit like than cake like, didn’t taste all that bad.

In fact, if he had to speak in metaphors and poetry, Minho would have said it tasted more like affection than chocolate.

“Diss tracks are more your area of expertise, Han.”

And Jisung smiled, suddenly witness to the softer side of Lee Minho.

An hour after they had cleaned the kitchen, the two sat side by side on the tiled floor against the kitchen cabinets in companiable silence. The air smelled like burnt sugar, and one of the steel handles of the drawers dug into their backs, but neither minded.

Minho didn't look at Jisung as he finally broke the silence with a whisper. "Thank you."

Jisung looked up, a half smile on his face. "For celebrating a day that's literally all about you?"

The joke fell flat as the older turned to him. "For caring enough to make an effort."

Jisung looked away, slightly surprised. "Least I could do," He murmured, fiddling with his fingers.