minsung fluff

dancing with you

Hey.

Basically the story is Minho and Jisung have been hanging out all evening after MAMA in Japan, and they don't get a lot of time to spend together, so the idea that they have to leave really bothers Minho. I'm just putting this note in because I didn't want you to think I was one of those writers who makes all their characters cry constantly (not that there's anything wrong with that. You do you.)

----------------------------

"You stepped on my foot."

Jisung stomps on Minho's foot harder.

They're standing in the middle of Minho's room, ballroom dancing in their sweatpants and pyjama shirts. The whole production — Jisung's hand on Minho's waist, Minho's hand on Jisung's shoulder, their other hands clasped together in the air. Beauty and the Beast was on the hotel's TV and it inspired them.

"I think we're supposed to be moving," Minho suggests.

"Move, then," Jisung replies, and he steps on Minho's foot again — by accident, this time.

Minho just sighs, taking his hand off Jisung's shoulder and kneading his head. "We're dancers, Jisung," he says disbelievingly.

Jisung laughs, perching Minho's hand back on his shoulder and straightening his posture. "I know. But let's see this through, yeah?"

"Fine," Minho mumbles, staring at his feet as he steps in a diamond sort of scheme. Jisung matches his movements with Minho's, until it makes sense.

"Ha!" Minho exclaims triumphantly as they dance. He finally looks up and locks eyes with Jisung, who is smiling contently. Minho grips his hand tighter.

"What are you thinking?" Minho asks.

"This is fun," Jisung answers, sliding his hand around Minho's back, pulling him closer. "Very... couple-y."

"I agree," says Minho. He steps away and spins Jisung in a lopsided circle. Jisung laughs, finding his way back into Minho's arms. Minho hugs Jisung like he's afraid to let him go.

Then they're just swaying. Not dancing, really — just moving in a slow rhythm, not even matching the music playing quietly in the background.

"If I was wearing a dress, that would have been majestic," Jisung says into Minho's shoulder.

"It was anyway," Minho replies, closing his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Jisung trailing his fingertips lightly up and down Minho's back.

"How suspicious would it be if I moved all my stuff into your room?" Jisung asks a moment later.

"Very," Minho says. "Not efficient, either. We're leaving soon."

Jisung groans. "Don't remind me."

"I won't if you won't," Minho proposes.

"Deal," Jisung replies, kissing Minho's neck. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Minho wrinkles his nose. "Skip breakfast. Too much work."

"Too much work to eat?" Jisung laughs, shaking his head. "I'll get you a snack for the plane."

Minho rolls his eyes. "You will not."

"I will."

"I won't eat it."

"You'd let me waste my money?"

"I didn't tell you to buy me food."

"You're insufferable."

Minho hugs him tighter. "Suffer me," he says softly.

"Always," is Jisung's reply.

So they stand there — rocking like two old willow trees, hands linked behind each others backs and sleepy eyes closed. It's a good way for it — this vacation from life — to end, Minho thinks. He clears his throat shakily with the prospect, constricting his grasp around Jisung's ribs.

Jisung breaks the silence. "My legs are sore," he says, shifting his weight.

Minho pulls away from their embrace, his messy hair falling in front of his eyes. His hand drifts down Jisung's arm and twines their fingers together. Wordlessly, he and Jisung walk back to Minho's bed. They curl up under the heavy, white comforter, and Jisung pulls Minho's arms around him again.

Minho keeps just a little distance between them, so he can look at Jisung. It still surprises him. He'd seen Jisung everyday for years — always with a distance between them, over arms length, and they never touched, not at the beginning. He knew him as Jisung, a fellow trainee. Jisung, a friend. Jisung, a crush.

But seeing him here — close enough to kiss, his hand patting Minho's back, his heart beating against Minho's chest — it's like every wistful, unreasonable fantasy Minho hadn't known he needed to come true, came true.

Jisung, his boyfriend...

Jisung brushes the hair out of Minho's eyes, and a small gasp escapes him. He just pulls Minho closer, wiping away the stupid, stray tear from where it rolled down Minho's cheek.

"Minho," he says comfortingly, and nothing else.