The lights dim and a hush follows, punctuated only by their static pants through the speakers and a few excited whispers. Jinki closes his eyes and draws his nails against the surface of his seat, his own breathing heavy but less laboured than usual.
He counts: one, two, three, four, five.
The volume in their mics cuts out and Jinki takes the cue to jump down onto the stage. As his groupmates take similar action, lifting themselves off the floor, the crowd of girls before them supportively cheer, waving balloons and all. He smiles appreciatively, a reminder of another performance down; another hour of sleep during a long commute; and another round of lactic acid, building up in their all but aching muscles. It’s nearly incapacitating, the evidence proving undeniable even at this exact moment.
Jinki smiles wider, sacrificing a few minutes of sleep as he halts meters away from the stage exit. Squatting down, back facing the crowd of fans much too anxious to watch his every move, Jinki’s eyes are met with the sight of long lashes and an excessively handsome face. Sharp jawline, round lips, the small but ideal face, Jinki wants to punch Minho in his plastic nose sometimes.
But, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea.
Jinki instead opts to giggle obnoxiously, lifting a single finger and hammering it square down in the center of a firm abdomen. (Although, he wants to punch that too sometimes.)
“Wake up!” Jinki pokes his finger down on every beat. “Wake up!”
Minho’s face scrunches, looking too unreasonably cute and contrastive of the deep grumble that follows.
“Just a few more minutes mom.”
“Call me mom and you can forget me agreeing to go out with you for a drink ever again.” Jinki smirks as he gives a particularly hard jab.
Large eyes shutter open, locking with Jinki’s as his wise-ass smirk is reflected right back.
“Like I actually have time for that anymore hyung.”
It’s cheeky and it stings, a little.
Minho pleads, his exaggerated pout almost driving Jinki up a wall.
If only he knew how to say no.
Jinki extends his hands forward, ignoring the warmth that rises to his cheeks as Minho sits up, crinkling eyes with a horrendously wide smile. Cold fingers rest in his palms and Jinki grasps them tightly, using his knees for leverage as he pulls the taller man up. It’s only in hindsight that Jinki thinks he probably should have put a little more thought into his offer.
Minho takes advantage as Jinki loses balance from the orthostatic pressure, wrapping long arms around his shoulders and pressing Jinki’s back against his chest.
The sudden movement makes Jinki cringe, holding his breath as he anticipates the strain of his neck to overpower the numbing effect of his medication. Yet, with the slight amount of leverage and support of Minho’s weight, Jinki blinks while standing still, noticing the cautiousness of their position. His injury goes unharmed and Jinki’s lips purse, feeling hot air stirring the hairs on the back of his neck.
“Told you sitting on the pimp chair would help.”
Jinki turns his head back slowly, catching sight of playful eyes, round lips hidden yet all too aware of them, barely grazing his skin.
A squeal erupts, followed by the few gasps of overjoyed girls.
Jinki snaps to reality, mustering the effort to glare forcefully at Minho while staving off a furious flush. Wrapping a hand around the two resting against his collarbone, Jinki pulls the man off stage.
“Are you insane?” Jinki hisses, once he feels a safe enough distance from the stage.
“They couldn’t see hyung.” Minho’s arms are still wrapped around his shoulders. “It was too dark. And I was behind you.”
Minho lets go of him, moving forward to study Jinki’s face with sincerity. Not even a split second later, Minho relaxes, a grin on his lips and eyes shining happily.
Because of course, Jinki isn’t.
Despite being caught, Jinki continues to frown deeply, grasping Minho’s shoulders before pulling the man down. Their lips collide and Jinki’s facade breaks, smiling into the kiss as he hears Minho’s soft moan. Not that the guy deserved it, Jinki feeling cool air brush against the saliva on his neck.
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