pairing: seungmin x minho
synopsis: seungmin is sure of one thing. he will never be good enough. not for school. not for finding a job. and certainly not for minho.
genre: angst, fluff, college au
wc: 2,000 | masterlist
Another rejection.
He can’t say that he didn’t expect it but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It had been weeks of “Thank you for your interest, but you’re not quite what we’re looking for at this time” and “We will get back to you later” with no response later. Despite all the places that Seungmin had applied to, hoping that he would score an internship for his last semester of university, nothing seemed to be working out.
Sighing, Seungmin just stared at his phone screen as it faded to black. This was one that he really thought could work out. He knew that he wasn’t the most qualified applicant but still. He thought that there would maybe be someone who could see his potential and be willing to take a chance with him.
It had been multiple minutes since the call had ended yet, he stayed seated in the study room where he had taken it. He wasn’t quite ready to face the world outside of the safe haven he had created in that room. Outside there were plenty of his peers who were getting somewhere with this. They had easily gotten whatever jobs or internships that they wanted but Seungmin just couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing wrong. His resume was good, maybe not perfect but it was good enough. He thought that he presented himself well in both his application and on these calls.
But they all ended the same way. Rejection.
Seungmin would be lying if he said that it wasn’t starting to bother him.
It was.
Thoughts that he had worked so hard to prove wrong seemed to come back full force. The only difference was that this time, he found himself believing them.
He wasn’t good enough for any of these positions. He wouldn’t find somewhere that wanted him. He would be stuck where he was forever. His degree was going to be pointless because he wasn’t enough. He wasn’t qualified. He wasn’t good.
He started to accept all of these things as true. There was nothing that was proving them false. Despite all of the effort he had put in to rid these thoughts, they were stronger than ever. To the point where they were bleeding over into other aspects of his life.
He will never be good enough for his boyfriend. Minho will see how you really are eventually, there’s no hiding it. Minho is so good and all Seungmin was doing was dragging him down. No matter how much effort he put into being better, Minho would always deserve better than him.
Minho was too good for him.
Eventually, Seungmin was able to pull himself out of his head enough to pack up his belongings and finally leave the study room. His classes were over for the week and he and Minho had plans to go on a date that weekend. The plan was for Seungmin to go over to Minho’s apartment after class and just spend the weekend there. He had even packed all his clothes and brought them to his class so he didn’t have to go back to his own apartment.
However. he found himself hesitating. Before he could convince himself not to, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
From Min <3: hey minnie, work is running a bit late today so you’ll probably beat me to my apartment
From Min <3: i know you have your key but i just wanted to let you know anyways
From Min <3: can’t wait to see you later <3
From Seungmin: okay, be safe. heading over to your now, i’ll see you soon <3
With that, he pocketed his phone and started on his way to Minho’s. The pair had been together all four years of university and Seungmin had gone apartment searching when looking for this apartment. It was basically a second home. He was there just as much as he was at his own apartment. They had talked about moving in together but decided that they wanted to wait until they were both graduated. Even being a few years older, Minho had only graduated about a year before.
Part of Seungmin had always felt guilty, that he was making Minho wait for him as he struggled to keep up. He knew that his thinking was irrational but it didn’t stop those thoughts from popping up from time to time.
His walk to Minho’s apartment was one of those times.
Since he knew that route to the apartment like the back of his hand, he was able to let his mind wander.
He couldn’t help but think that Minho saw Seungmin as something holding him back. It had never been a problem when they were both students, both of them bound to the area around the university. Now, however, Minho had free range of the entire world but Seungmin was still stuck. After graduating, Minho had picked up a job at a local dance studio, teaching dance lessons. Seungmin knew that he loved his job but it wasn’t what he wanted to do forever. He had always talked about opening up his own studio in a big city somewhere. That fit perfectly with what Seungmin wanted – to work at a big law firm somewhere.
Minho was free.
Seungmin kept him stuck right where he was. Restricting his abilities to accomplish his dreams.
When he was finally able to shake the thoughts from his head, he was already at the door to Minho’s building. He chose to take the stairs up as Minho only lived on the third floor and the elevator was currently on the fifth.
Seungmin let himself into the apartment like he had done time and time again. He set his backpack on the kitchen counter and made his way into Minho’s bedroom. Unsure of how much time he had until Minho got home, he grabbed an extra pair of his clothes that he kept in the apartment and decided to take a shower.
Mid shower, he heard the front door open.
“Hey Minnie, I’m home,” he heard Minho call out from somewhere in the apartment.
“In the shower, I’ll be right out.” He yelled back.
Quickly, he finished up his shower and changed into the fresh set of clothes. Exiting the bathroom, he found Minho sitting on the bed waiting for him.
“Hi baby,” he greeted from the bed, looking up from his phone. “How was your day?”
“It was fine, how was yours?” Seungmin responded with a shrug before taking a seat next to Minho. He was deliberate with the space he left between them, unsure if Minho even noticed.
“It was really good. I had my 3 to 4 year old class this afternoon and they were surprisingly really good listeners today. I was able to get through a good amount of the number that we are going to do for their recital.” Minho told him. “Then my teens solo is coming along really well. I really think that she has the potential to place in some competitions this season.”
Seungmin tried to smile and nod along when appropriate but he knew that his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes. He really did care about his boyfriend and how his day was but he couldn’t ignore the little voice in the back of his head telling him that he was just holding Minho back, that he would be achieving so much more without Seungmin in his way.
Minho seemed to notice how preoccupied Seungmin was, despite him trying his best to hide it. Minho knew him better than that. He always knew.
“Did you hear back from that place that you applied to the other day?” he asked, hoping that the change of topic would help Seungmin refocus on their conversation.
“Yeah.” He didn’t offer anything more.
“How did that go?”
“They said that they didn’t think that I would be a good fit for the company.”
“Oh love, I’m really sorry. Did they say why?”
“Do they really have to?” Seungmin’s voice rose along with his anger. He wasn’t even sure why. He knew that he was misplacing his anger and that Minho had been nothing but supportive throughout the entire process. “I’m not fucking good enough for any of these companies. I’m not what they’re looking for. They all want someone with experience but I don’t even know how to fucking get experience because everyone is turning me down. I’m fucking stuck here.”
It was all bubbling over.
The weeks of phone calls that got nowhere. The weeks of rejection email after rejection email. The weeks over seeing everyone else in his life accomplishing things while he was stuck in the same cycle that he was never going to get out of.
It had finally become too much for him to handle.
“I know this process has been so long and so hard on you but you’ll find somewhere. The right place just hasn’t come along yet.” Minho tried to pull Seungmin into a hug but the younger fought him and was eventually able to pull away.
“You don’t get it, Minho!” He was unable to stamp down any of the anger that had flared. “I’m just wasting everyone’s time. I’m wasting all these companies' time with these stupid phone calls. I’m wasting my own time on this stupid degree that I’m never going to get anywhere with. I’m wasting your time by keeping you here and making you deal with all my shit! I don’t get why you don’t hate me. Why can’t you just hate me? It would make everything so much easier. You could finally see that you deserve more than this. You are so, so good and I’m just holding you back from the rest of your life.”
“I could never hate you.” Minho stated it as if it were fact.
“I’d hate me if I were you.” Seungmin knew that he was just fighting to fight, his words didn’t hold as much venom anymore. “I’m the reason you’re stuck here for another year.”
“I’m not stuck anywhere. I’m choosing to stay here with you for one more year. Everything that I want in life, I want to do it with you by my side.” Minho had finally managed to pull Seungmin onto his lap, holding him close as if he were going to run away. “I like where I am now. I like my job, my apartment, and I love my little life with you. It’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life but it’s exactly where I want to be now.”
“You could be doing so much more.”
“I don’t want to. Not right now at least.” He placed a kiss onto Seungmin’s forehead. “There is nothing about my life I want to change right now.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time seeing why I’m worth it to you.”
“I wish I could show you the Minnie that I get to see everyday. The one that wakes up extra early so that you can make me breakfast and pack my lunch before you go to class. The one that always makes sure I’m taking care of myself and will help me do so on the days where it’s hard. The one that always thinks of me. The one that I am so excited to know for the rest of my life.”
“You just deserve so much more.”
“I don’t want more, Kim Seungmin. I want you.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Please let me spend the rest of my life showing you why I love you.” Minho grabbed Seungmin’s chin and turned his head so they were looking each other in the eye. “You are the only thing I want in this life. Why can’t you let me show you how much I love you?”
“Is this really worth it for you?” Seungmin asked, hesitantly.
“You are worth everything to me. You always will be.”
Minho stomps his way towards the door, the stupid cat-themed slippers lightening the sound of his stomps with only irritates him more. He can feel the vicious glare taking over his eyes, mouth set in a firm straight line.
The doorbell rings again, and Minho rolls his eyes as he unlocks the latch and yanks the door open.
Seungmin stumbles back a step in shock and Minho takes in a sharp breath, eyes wide when he takes in the scene in front of him.
Kim Seungmin— his husband, is standing in the doorway with a kid tucked into his arms.
Seungmin and Minho tiptoe around an unspoken sweetness that might shape their tomorrow.
The first time Minho properly meets Seungmin is on a Tuesday in the middle of Brazil, except that’s not what name he’s going by and he won't know his real name until a few years later. He doesn’t know it yet but this man is going to change his life. At that moment, he’s nothing more than someone he’s supposed to save from their own stupidity.
Or: Minho and Seungmin are spies.
summary: 'their names are jinki and minho. minho's the one in blue. jinki's out back trying to fix the ship. they crashed.'
'you talked to them.'
'no, they're telepathic. just - beamed it. right into my head,' taemin says, his eyes sparkling with mockery. 'yeah of course. i even introduced you too.'
(earth girls are easy, onkey (and 2min) style.)
pairing: onew/key, taemin/minho
notes/warnings: some fluffy alien romcom for this valentine’s day.
can be found on ao3 here.
———————————————————————
there is a spaceship outside of kim kibum's salon. it was not there last night, and it has no right to be there now.
this is, coincidentally, the least of kim kibum's problems. he is a colored-in shade of human misery, from breaking up with his on and off (permanently off) boyfriend, and ritualistically categorizing all the places in his life he has yet to cleanse of his presence; to the impending foreclosure of his business; to the sniffing bloodhounds of the other competitors in the area, ready to acquire his, frankly, absurdly sizeable space.
(it is absurdly sizeable, to taemin's key observation, because there's hardly ever customers. it's a hard market to break into, temperamental and not temperamental enough, in equal measure.)
the apartment he occupies above the space is tiny, made tinier with taemin's form crowding the couch, and kibum is mulling the utter dead end that his life has become, when a great collision rocks the dumpster.
and. it is a spaceship. it is definitely a spaceship, almost cartoonishly so. it's about the size of a parade float.
it's probably a parade float, is the second thought. some idiot drunkenly taking it for a joyride down an alley. look, there's an opening, light beaming out before it's blocked out by one body, then another. two figures that are probably human, beneath their bobbled helmets, their thick, stuffy jumpsuits.
this neighborhood gets all sorts of characters. it's why kibum chose it a little over a year ago, taking a chance on the already crowded area, the unfriendly lease agreement, the questionable landlord. these are just two more characters, talking in a garbled tongue that kibum just isn't hearing right.
it's 4am, anyway, and kibum doesn't have time for this. so he throws on his headphones, viciously tugs off taemin's socks in a pique of spiteful vengeance, and heads to his bed to mull over ways to make his bank account stretch even thinner.
--------------------------------------
'hey kibum, there's someone banging on the door. hey. hey, kibum.'
kibum is sleeping, he would be horrified to recognize, halfway on his laptop, lodging a canyon of a line across his cheek. when he scrambles up, his joints aching from the unnatural position he had dozed off in, he finds the time on his phone - 7:17 am.
'do you mind? i'm trying to sleep.' taemin says, nonchalant.
'god you are just the worst,' kibum says. he is looking down at his phone, checking his email when the reminder comes up - bank visit 730.
FUCK. SHIT. goddamn it. the bank, his loans for the space, seeing if he's using the space as intended and isn't secretly - something? insolvent? incompetent? kibum is certainly something, something sharp and biting and near-poisonous in proximity, as he throws on his clothes and tries to arrange his hair into something presentable. taemin holds up his bar of deodorant as he passes and kibum grabs it and pauses to apply it, unwilling even in his panic to let the stink of body odor be his signature scent.
he hurtles downstairs, his shoes sliding off at the heel as he careens down the stairs. in the salon he can see the banker (? is that even the term - auditor? realtor? pain in the ass, really) standing outside the door. whoever it is, is an actual asshole, because it's only 7:27 and he's been at the door for 10 minutes, chomping at the bit to rob kibum of his pride and joy. what a miserable bastard.
he is flipping on the lights, and taking one last duck into the bathroom when he spies them. the aliens. the parade floaters. whoever. they're just standing there, one of them a good 4 inches than the other, helmets still on like they're robbing him. one of them has a device in his hand that looks halfway between a smartphone and a gun.
holy fuck he's being robbed. he has literally negative to give, and he's being robbed.
or
or
he's desperate, is his excuse. he puts his hands together, and extends them out.
'look. i will give you anything you need, if you can just let me pretend you are customers for 15 minutes. just to get his asshole off my back? alright? just - ' he nods, looking between the two of them. the shorter one on the left, clad all in yellow, makes a jerky motion that might be a nod? he'll take it, especially when he moves to put away his gun phone. kibum makes a reckless motion to grab his hand and lead him out. the other one in blue is following when kibum glances over the top of the yellow-tinged helmet. the one whose being tugged along, his grip is loose, almost skittish, but kim kibum is not a quitter. he maneuvers both of them into chairs and holds out his hands again.
'just - stay there. and play along. please.'
before they can respond, or decide kibum's meager wealth is worth the charade, he turns away and schools his features as he strides to the door, popping it open with a cool, professional 'good morning'.
'mr. kim,' the bank asshole says, like he's the one being inconvenienced in every aspect of his life. 'am i interrupting?'
'actually, you are,' kibum replies, opening the door wider. 'i had some urgent client requests to handle this morning, so we'll have some company. i hope that helps you make an informed determination on our operations.'
he's impressing even himself with his handling. the asshole is looking at the two, weird as they are, like they aren't random intruders. which, no, of course not. of course. kibum moves forward to make the case more persuasive.
'i think we're ready to take that off now, sir,' he says to the one in yellow, whose gripping the ends of the chair like he's terrified. still, he doesn't make any motions when kibum moves towards the - neck latch? of the helmet - where it clicks into his get-up. when kibum fumbles with it, he gently moves his hands aside to do it himself, releasing the catches and lifting it up off his head in a smooth, practiced motion.
and, well. shit. kibum doesn't really have time to dwell on how gorgeous one of his assailants is, with sweet, expressive brown eyes. there's a discoloration to his cheeks, a yellow blush brought out by the vibrant tones of his clothes. his nose is thick, straight, and sharp cheekbones and jawline that together are really affecting his ability to make this whole thing believable. he clears his throat and meets those eyes with his own eyes wide, encouraging and asking for forgiveness as he moves to run his fingers through his hair.
his purple hair. it's one of the nicest dye jobs he's seen in a while, perfectly and naturally applied like it had grown out of his scalp like that. if his robber is from one of his competitors, coming in here and scaring the hell out of him, he's going to be monumentally pissed, but at that point he'll have to concede he's outskilled. it's not even fried out, it's almost inhumanely soft. perfect styling, too, framing his face - jesus, that face - like art.
he plays with it for a moment - a half-second - too long, but hides it with a murmur of consideration.
'excellent, i think this is about what you were expecting?' he turns the chair around to face the mirror and the man growls, like he's surprised, or scared, by the motion - like he's never been in a spinning chair? goddamn everyone loves these chairs, it's weird. but it tapers off when kibum steadies it at the stop, his black-painted fingernails resting at his shoulders.
(he can feel them shift slightly beneath his touch, and he's keyed up on panic, chalking his noting of that up to panic)
the man is just staring, silent now, at his reflection, and the asshole is still watching them. his (gorgeous, awkward) robber must have stage fright, so kibum smiles wide in the mirror, meeting his eyes. after a moment he follows the silent instruction, crinkling his eyes, breaking his face into an all new level to kibum's panic, with a wide, warm smile that feels like sunshine. he looks like sunshine, all in yellow, like a lavender flower blooming.
'great!' he says, chirpy in a way that sounds unbelievable to his own ears, but he's moving onto the other one, who is already moving to take his helmet off.
well, fuck, they're both good-looking. this one is a hell of lot less tolerant of kibum's performance, spinning himself around, moving away from his hands as he goes to check out his hair (black, surprisingly close to standard, especially in comparison). it's short in the nape of the neck and when he makes a motion to get up, kibum pinches, hard, giving himself a moment of surprise to push down, his hands full-weighted against his trapezius muscles.
at that point, he goes with the program; his smiling motion is a little quicker, but kibum has already picked his favorite and it's too little, too late, robber asshole.
'we can settle up after we're done, okay, guys? thanks again!' he hates his customer service voice - he doesn't even use this voice for real clients - but bank asshole seems like the type of guy who says 'the customer is always right' so he rubs it in extra sweet. he takes his time settling in, setting his shoulders down and back, lifting his chin high as he plays the part.
'these were just two of the clients we have booked today. actually - they were multi-day appointments, follow-up to ensure all their services were to their exact requests. performers, you know?' he knows he doesn't know. and he knows that bank asshole knows he doesn't know, that he has no idea what's trendy, or stylish, or experimental. helmets for protecting hair? why the fuck not. he'll sell that line all day long if he has to.
he doesn't have to. bank asshole is taking photos - without even asking! - and making notes on his phone. he made the case that he could make, and it was better to have someone here than not. even if they were a little difficult and a little criminal.
'well, thank you for your time,' bank asshole says suddenly. he moves to stand and shakes kibum's hand. when he turns, the two - instead of waiting in their chairs - are standing shoulder to shoulder, their helmets at their hips, expressionless, like a low-rent daft punk. he squares his shoulders like everything's normal here, and sees the asshole out with a cool nod.
as soon as he leaves -
he exhales, letting his shoulders and his head drop, releasing a moan to start, and then turning it into a yawn as the adrenaline starts to settle. the lack of sleep, the push to herd his brain into performative professionalism, on top of negotiating his own robbery.
oh. right. he's being robbed.
giving less than a fuck (but not zero fucks), he turns and resigns himself.
'thank you,' he says firstly, pointing it towards the one in yellow. 'ironically you probably saved my ass.'
the one in blue rumbles, like a whiny drunk, before it turns into a questioning 'ass?' the one in yellow turns to him, sharp, an obvious look of dismay on his face. he gestures, hurky, at his gun-phone - kibum tries to take a look at it, but suddenly takes several steps back as the one in yellow - not blue, it would have been easier if it were blue - raises it and aims it at him.
'whoa whoa, just - wait, i can get you - i can get you whatever money, i just have to go upstairs - ' and he squeezes his eyes shut as the one in yellow squeezes his hand, and it fires -
nothing happens. well, not nothing - there's some odd, light noise, like chimes, like the rounding noise of a balloon being blown up, and kibum dares to open its eyes and there are bubbles, iridescent in a way that doesn't quite look right, black and purple and green and red, stringing from one color to the next in a rhythm that's shifting, like it's looking for the perfect hue to settle on, shrinking and expanding out with little explorative tones that feel, inexplicably, like sticking your tongue out to taste the air, except with sound.
it doesn't look real, so jury's out if he's now suffering visual hallucinations, but he glances at the other two and finds the one in yellow is looking at him, with increasing levels of horror.
he opens his mouth and shrieks, incomprehensible syllables that make kibum want to cringe in on himself, but he's also still looking at him long enough to see his eyes shift, from the human brown to an alien orange.
alien.
spaceship.
he's not proud of it, but he passes out. at least in unconsciousness, he doesn't have to worry about dignity.
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when he comes to, he's propped up in one of the salon chairs. across from him, taemin is sitting on the counter, playing with a pair of scissors. honestly, it's one of the most disconcerting things he can think of, and that's before the blue alien walks into view. taemin beams at him, and gets a smile in return, more tentative than earlier, more genuine.
'taemin,' he says, urgent and undecided about whether or not he needs to risk his life for his worst friend. 'what are you doing?'
'waiting for you to wake up. eating cereal.'
he doesn't have cereal. he ignores this discrepancy and slowly starts to get up. the one in blue doesn't stop him from steering taemin away so they can have this conversation slightly more privately. he still doesn't know where the one in yellow is.
'this is going to sound crazy. but these guys - they're not human - i don't think so, anyway.'
taemin puts his finger on his lips to shush him - to actually shush him, like he's a child and not the most rational, most human individual in the building.
'i know. they showed me their ship outside. it's pretty cool, actually.'
he turns to retrieve a box of cereal from behind the nearest mirror. this would explain kibum's ant problem. his arm goes elbow-deep as he takes a handful and starts eating it dry, talking around it.
'their names are jinki and minho. minho's the one in blue. jinki's out back trying to fix the ship. they crashed.'
'you talked to them.'
'no, they're telepathic. just - beamed it. right into my head,' taemin says, his eyes sparkling with mockery. 'yeah of course. i even introduced you too.'
'kibum,' says a new voice behind him. taemin keeps munching his cereal. kibum turns.
jinki looks infinitely more composed from earlier, which is impressive considering he looks like he's been actively rooting around in an engine, dark smears across his forehead, his gloves covered in something undeniably gooey. unfortunately nothing has really changed the actual look of him, and kibum - who will need therapy - chokes around his first 'hi' like an idiot.
the second one comes out a little smoother. it's hard to hear himself over taemin's chewing.
'kibum,' jinki says again.
'what?' he asks.
'that's all we've managed so far,' taemin says from behind him. when kibum turns to look, he shrugs and puts the box down, licking his fingers clean. 'but it's impressive, right? i'm probably going to be in history books.'
'lucky us,' he hisses. 'you don't even know they're peaceful.'
'um, you've been passed out for at least 30 minutes. and they left you alone and put you in that chair. i was up for leaving you on the floor. they're better than me.'
'low. fucking. bar.'
minho has moved to their side, looking between them like he's unsure whether to intervene or not. kibum turns away in a huff. so now he gets to handle aliens. he can't just leave them to taemin.
with a start, he realizes how much brighter it is outside, and, checking his phone, realizes he's near to the opening hours. he can't afford to leave the little he has, to take up recreational alien-babysitting. he also has, like, an obligation as a member of the human race to not have their ambassador be taemin.
he takes what he thinks is a discreet glance at the other three, and finds jinki looking back at him, patiently waiting. he flashes a nervous smile and looks back down to his phone.
ok.
plan.
small kernel of a plan. jinki is working on their ship. he can keep an eye on him from the salon, with the back door popped open. and he'd rather keep both aliens handy, but if he has them both down here, then taemin will undoubtedly lurk around too. so.
'go back upstairs,' he orders the pair of them. minho doesn't understand him, but he jabs his finger up to communicate the general spirit of it. taemin shrugs, but grabs minho's hand all the same.
his human-looking hand. he must have taken off his gloves at some point, which means that jinki's hands are probably similar.
it's traitorous or selfish or maybe just horny if he wonders what the chances are of the rest of their bodies being human like.
anyway.
jinki turns to follow them, but kibum reaches out to grab him by the sleeve. jinki looks at him, confused, and then takes his own gloves off - and, yes, they are human-like too. he clips them to his belt and grabs for kibum's hand, his grip still as light as earlier. outside of the glove, his hand feels terribly small and delicate, easy to dwarf in kibum's.
'your ship,' he starts, then falters. taemin has already disappeared up the stairs. he starts moving back towards the alley, prattling about taemin's ability to preoccupy people, for lack of anything else; jinki keeps pace beside him, his eyes kept trained on kibum's face, dipping down to watch his lips move. kibum tries valiantly to ignore what that does to him.
he pushes out into the alley, where the ship is opened up, a couple pigeons perched on its antennae.
'you can work on it,' he says, semi-helplessly gesturing towards the ship with their still-joined hands. 'and i'll be inside - ' he puts his free hand to his chest and then nods his head towards the path they just took. ' - if you need anything.' he lets go of jinki's hand and tries to reiterate with slightly more smooth motions.
jinki seems to get the gist of it, at first, but he grabs kibum's hand again and brings it up between them. bizarrely, kibum thinks he's about to kiss the back of it, he just has a gentle, warm look in his eyes that doesn't belong at all - but he doesn't. instead he meticulously opens his fingers, one by one, and then puts his gun-phone against his palm, and wraps his hand around to close it again. he maneuvers kibum's fingers into a series of motions, clicking a switch here, and there, until one of the screens lights up, with a series of lines running seamlessly from left to right.
jinki meets his eyes seriously and brings the device to his mouth. he speaks, clear and decisive: 'jinki'.
then, he moves it back to kibum and nods encouragingly.
'um, okay,' he says. he leans in, and clears his throat. 'kibum.'
jinki nods again and releases his hold. he clutches his hands together in mimicry of kibum's own posture, and mouths silently.
'you want me to talk into this,' he holds it closer to his mouth again, and, in doing so, notices the lines from earlier spiking with each syllable. oh. okay. translation device. or recording device. or... communicator? either way, it's not like it can do any harm. probably, anyway. his life is suddenly full of probabilities, when he had felt dead set on the certainty of failure.
'okay,' he says, deliberately slow, into the device, and is granted with a wide, happy smile from jinki.
he starts backing away from jinki, out of his own preservation instincts and the need to get the salon opened on time. he keeps his eye on the alien, on the off chance he has misunderstood, but jinki is also turning away, casting one last glance back at kibum, and nodding encouragingly when kibum clicks the button and says 'goodbye' into it. if it sounds a little sappy, well, there's no one here to call him out on it.
when he steps back into the building, he takes a few deep breaths and buoys himself up to start the day. everything else before this moment won't count for a good 10 hours.
--------------------------------------
he can't hold it the entire time, it's just not possible. but he does keep it on whenever he has one hand free, from greeting customers and employees as they arrive to clock in. he puts it aside when he's intent on a cut, or a wash, conscious at all times of when he's left it alone, peeking more often down the back way. occasionally he catches a glimpse of yellow, and once he saw jinki staring upwards towards the sky, lost in thought.
it twangs something in his chest, that he has to push aside.
he manages to get through the majority of his day like this, when his stomach suddenly and angrily growls. one of his stylists is nearby, and quirks an eyebrow at him.
'don't even start,' he says, and she sticks her tongue out, making him laugh. why not, he has to take a break at some time. he'll run upstairs and make sure minho and taemin are fine, and drag jinki along with him, and make sure he has something to eat to.
the question of what aliens eat is a good one, and kibum doesn't know, but he can at least ask. they're aliens, they can probably figure out if something will kill them.
'jinki,' he calls as he heads outside. there's a great clatter from the spaceship and jinki pops up, his lips parted and he lets out a pleased bark. kibum, fighting his own smile, motions for him to come down and simultaneously says 'let's eat some lunch, okay?' into the device.
'okay,' jinki repeats amiably, and kibum is positive he doesn't know what he's saying, but he isn't about to object to his sweet agreeability. especially considering they're going upstairs.
he waits semi-patiently for jinki to come down and then sneaks them both inside after looking, shooing jinki up the stairs.
'taemin, minho, have you guys eaten anything yet?' kibum calls out as he turns the key - there's no click, taemin didn't even bother locking - and enters. he waves jinki inside and takes a quick scan to make sure everything is in order. it looks like there's plates in the sink, the TV is loud from around the wall, but neither taemin or minho are anywhere to be seen. but, if they ate, then that speaks positively towards jinki being able to eat something. he clicks the button and starts talking.
'i'm going to give you some water. food...normally i'd just run out to GS25 and grab something, but i should have some packets here...taemin! what did you eat, i'm trying to feed for four here....' he trails off as he realizes he hasn't heard much of anything since coming in except the TV. he abruptly turns and jinki senses the sudden change in his mood, setting his shoulders back and walking with more caution into the underlit apartment.
it's a small place, with a hole of a bedroom and a bathroom split off from the hybrid kitchen/sitting area. there's only so many places for people to lurk. kibum throws open the door to the bedroom, half-expected taemin to have taken over his bed, and minho resigned to the small desk in the corner, his helmet a pillow. but no such find waits for him there. which means they've either left, and they're altogether fucked, or -
jinki, following kibum's example, apparently is already turning the handle on the bathroom, and when he opens it he jumps back with a noise kibum can't even properly describe - it's like a gasp, gurgled through a mixer of soju and rock salt. when kibum takes the three steps necessary to arrive at his vantage point, minho is turned away, shoulders hunched in, his right arm in an all-too-human motion, and taemin is wiping his mouth and looking exceedingly - exceedingly - unapologetic.
'tell me you did not just suck an extraterrestrial dick, taemin, jesus!'
jinki makes some more noises that kibum trusts has the same energy.
kibum has always known about taemin's hobgoblin-esque exploratory promiscuity. he only asks that his friend be safe, perfectly unbothered that his metaphorical line in the sand is the human race.
he, understandably, never expected to have that sanguine understanding stress-tested.
while he's been busy engaging in a one-sided staring contest, jinki has pulled minho out into the hallway, and is having a furious conversation that sounds halfway between static and muzak. kibum has to consciously tune them out, has to do something to communicate that this cannot happen again, and also - how the fuck did this happen?
'how the fuck did this happen?' he yells. 'i left you alone for a morning, and you put him in your mouth? you don't know where he's been!'
'space,' taemin says. 'and this apartment.'
'you don't even speak the same language, you - you asshole - how can you even call that consensual?'
'hey,' taemin looks genuinely offended. 'i gave him some porn first and showed him how to turn it off and turn it back on. he found a blowjob one and had a boner. i asked and made sure he was good with it. c'mon, hyung, i'm not that guy.'
'fine. you are still the guy who just sucked a dick without having any idea of what it could look like, or what - what it was like when he came - or if the - if it was okay for you to swallow.'
'i didn't swallow,' taemin looks incredibly pleased with himself for his foresight, and holds his hands up in the universal sign for obviously. 'it's fine.'
'it is no way fine,' kibum hisses. 'you are such a dumbass.'
as he lets out the invective he turns and faces the other pair, who have stopped their own discussion and are now looking at him with expressions of apology and confusion - jinki - and...resolve? consternation? whatever. minho doesn't look nearly apologetic enough for kibum's mood.
'you're a dumbass too,' he hisses, stabbing a finger at minho.
'dumbass?' he parrots tentatively, pointing at himself, and then taemin. kibum rubs his temples.
'yes, exactly. both of you. glad we're all on the same page.'
'dumbass?' jinki asks, quieter, and pointing at himself.
'....no,' kibum responds, shaking his head. he can't even be bothered to try to explain, he just heads back to the kitchen. 'c'mon let's eat something. taemin, you are gargling and brushing your teeth first.'
'ok, but that means i have to use your toothbrush.'
the only respite kibum can take is that jinki helps him as best he can in the kitchen, monitoring the water he sets to boil and handing out the chopsticks when the convenience store ramyeon is done cooking.
--------------------------------------
he doesn't have much of a choice except to leave minho and taemin again. jinki seems much more opposed to it, pausing in at the bottom of the stairwell. he gestures towards kibum's pocket, where the edge of his device is poking out. at the motion, kibum pulls it out.
'sorry, i forgot to use it upstairs. don't think you'd want to remember much of it, to be honest.'
jinki shakes his head, and silently holds his hand out. kibum passes it over, watching as he holds it up to the side of his head, and presses a smaller button. the device says 'jinki', then 'kibum', and the rest of all the little pieces of conversation kibum has had throughout the day, speeding up until it's completely unintelligible, spitting noise into jinki's waiting ear. when it finishes, jinki nods, a small smile.
'thank you,' he says, clearly, carefully watching kibum's face.
'oh,' he replies faintly. 'you're learning? that helps you speak?'
jinki narrows his eyes in effort, and kibum realizes it's limited just to what has been recorded. has he talked about learning today, with the elderly mrs. park, or the chatty server from down the street? probably not. 'thank you' is thrown around so much in customer service, no wonder it's the first thing he picked up.
'you're welcome,' he says back, and jinki's smile is a quickly blooming thing that smacks kibum right across the face. he takes a step closer and presses it back into kibum's hand.
'use it more,' he asks softly. 'please.'
--------------------------------------
it's stupid, but he does. he memorizes the feel of pressing it just enough so it activates, and what it's like when his finger slips. he finds a little clip and fashions an attachment to his apron, so it's sitting on his collarbone. when there's an odd question about it, he says he's taking better notes of his day for record-keeping, and that seems to work well enough, though one or two stylists keep giving him odd looks. he doesn't acknowledge them.
at the back of his mind, he knows he's doing this for more than just improved communication, that he likes the way jinki smiles at him, the cadence of his voice when he says his name - the proud look in his eyes when they managed to exchange just a few words. he likes his steady, reserved presence. he has a sweet temperament that smooths down kibum's rough edges, just by being.
it's a crush. kibum brooks no self-deception. it hasn't been a week since he's broken up with his last boyfriend, and jinki is an alien, an actual alien, preparing to leave the planet, that he's known for all of nine hours. and he has a crush on him.
maybe when they lift off, he'll get burned up in the rocket fumes. frankly it's the only satisfiable outcome kibum can see from this.
he has one last appointment for the day, an older lady of the neighborhood who likes to talk, even when kibum doesn't. for once, this anticipated division doesn't bother him much, because it can be put to good use. he makes sure the button is pressed down and secure and leads mrs. choi to the chair, nodding along as she starts laying out her day, her impending anniversary, her entrenched drama with the other salon down the street (the cause for her patronage of kibum's location). it's all much formless noise to him, to be certain. luckily for him she doesn't need a partner to have a conversation, and he's lost in the focus of trimming when there's an unmistakable 'kibum?' from his right.
both he and mrs. choi turn to find jinki standing there, lavender hair a stringy mess, coated through with goop. kibum almost swears in dismay, stopping himself only in the nick of time. he looks down at mrs. choi and, before he can say anything, she swats up at him like they're friends. important to note that they are not friends, but kibum needs the money, and also needs jinki to stay undiscovered.
'jinki,' he says cautiously. 'what's wrong?'
visibly uncertain on how to proceed, jinki raises his shoulders, and lets them drop.
'it's a mess,' he says, and, yes, kibum did call a few things a mess today. 'i need to clean up. upstairs. okay?'
'oh honey,' mrs. choi says, feigning an unwarranted level of camaraderie. 'you really do. are you kibum's boyfriend?'
'friend,' kibum hastily corrects. he doesn't need to get himself into a fake-boyfriend scenario for further emotional torture. he looks square at jinki and nods. 'okay. take my key and go upstairs. wash.'
jinki nods, and kibum is grateful, glad that he managed to phrase it in a way he could understand. he excuses himself to go to the desk and pulls out the key ring, wiggling out his apartment key. jinki saw him use his key earlier, right? he should be able to figure it out. he takes a moment to send a text to taemin too to warn him.
'thank you,' jinki says again, and kibum dips his head back, oddly formal, and familiarly warm with pleasure when jinki turns with a small smile.
mrs. choi should go back to her old stylist, he'll lose her business gladly, because she greets him with a loud 'how handsome your friend is! you must be close, to let him use your shower.'
she says the last part with a relish to her voice, and god, kibum could kill her so easily. he laughs, hollowly, and she continues on.
'he's very polite too. have you known him long?'
'no.'
'mmmm, well. if you don't mind me saying, you shouldn't let him get away. and he seems to like you too!'
'well it doesn't matter who we like. can't really help that he's leaving town soon,' he says tightly.
she lets out a hiss of disappointment. he could give her a terrible asymmetrical cut in return.
'well, that's too bad. he seems to like you well enough, and well enough could be, well, enough to get him to stay!' she laughs gaily.
'ha ha,' he says.
--------------------------------------
'hey, it's me,' he calls through the door. knocking on his own door is just the way to end this day, tired and more emotional than he ever cares to disclose. 'let me in already.'
he hopes taemin hasn't gotten so far as to fuck minho. or let minho fuck him. or let minho suck his dick. if there's any chance they're incompatible, then spitting could hardly have been the apex of protection. taemin could be rotting from the mouth in, or minho from the dick out.
a small, tiny part of him thinks they'd deserve it. a larger part says if that happened, his crush on jinki would have the shit topper of misfortune it deserves. just to round it out perfectly.
he knows jinki must still be up there - because he checked out back before locking up, and the ship was half-dissembled, with jinki nowhere to be seen even when kibum called out - but he did not expect it to be jinki opening the door. he also did not expect jinki to be wearing some of his clothes, an oversized sweatshirt that makes him look like a college student.
'hi kibum,' he says, and he beams when he says, 'welcome back.'
it's so cute, is the thing, so exceedingly domestic and homely that kibum may not survive its cruelty, knowing it won't last.
'i washed,' he continues as kibum sets down his things blindly. 'taemin gave me clothes.'
'good,' he croaks. he fishes out the device before he can forget, hands it over to jinki's obvious pleasure. he holds it up to his ear, and kibum just watches his face, his eyes closed, as he learns. it's not fair, is it? life's not fair, is what they always say, but they're talking about things like losing your job, being left behind by the people you thought were you friends. not being teased with happiness, with love, and having it literally leave for the stars.
well, maybe there's an astronaut or something who can relate. whatever. kibum isn't about to argue technicalities with his own feelings.
'where's taemin and minho?' he asks, instead, when jinki has finished and is setting the device back down in the table. kibum presses the button before he asks, leaning back against the couch. he might as well keep giving his words, it's all he can do.
'they went out,' jinki says. 'for food.'
'okay,' kibum says. he's tired, but jinki looks like he's on the precipice of a question, and kibum knows he's going to have to say goodbye, so he doesn't wave it off.
'earlier,' he starts. 'taemin and minho. what are they doing?'
trust him to ask the hard question.
'sex,' he says. he hasn't said it at all today, it's not something you talk about with your customers. he's open, but he's not that open. he casts his mind back to some of the idle chatter from the afternoon. 'they kissed. taemin was making him happy.'
'oh,' jinki says. he sounds unfinished. he brings his fingers to his lips, and asks in confirmation. 'kissed?'
kibum nods.
'okay,' jinki says, then repeats it to himself. 'kibum?'
'yes?'
'does kissing make you happy?'
he snorts.
'sometimes.'
jinki tilts his head, his brows gone quizzical. there isn't enough vocabulary between them to explain it, but something in his eyes feels compassionate, and - kibum is just sunk. there's no way he's getting out of this without some damage.
'you're good,' he says, plain and honest. kibum flushes and turns away, but jinki continues speaking. 'you're good to us and to others. you should be happy.'
'i want to be,' kibum confesses to his hands. 'i want to be happy.'
jinki moves to his side, the couch arm between them.
'"sometimes"', he says back to him. he touches his lips, and then reaches out, stopping short of touching kibum, but pointing towards him all the same. 'tonight?'
kibum looks at him, and considers a thousand things that don't matter, because he's already saying 'yes', already watching jinki go down on one knee, then the other, folds his arms across the couch until his hands are resting on kibum's upper arms. he smells like his soap, but in this light his brown eyes spark orange once more, and there's a buzzing beneath his touch that hasn't been there before, and then he can see every star in his eyes, can see countless worlds in every freckle, and he surrenders at the first brush of jinki's lips against his.
it's only a momentary touch, but it lives past its occurrence. isn't that a thing? like the light shining down well after the sun had exploded, kibum can still feel his lips after he moves away.
jinki asks.
'are you happy?'
the light is blinking out.
kibum shakes his head, manages to smile a little.
'not tonight.'
--------------------------------------
he closes the salon the next morning, contacting the few appointments by phone call to make sure they get the notice. minho and taemin both slept on the couch overnight, wrapped up in each other, while jinki slept on the floor. the blanket kibum had lent him wrapped tightly around his form. it turned out his bathroom was hosting their suits, the helmets on the floor of the shower, so kibum just washed up the best he could with the sink, brushing his teeth with his finger on the recollection of taemin's earlier use.
apparently minho had also lent his device to taemin for a similar purpose, so the morning was filled with a lot more korean than he was used to, most of it full of minho's innocently profane conversations.
'you had to corrupt him,' he had wearily warned taemin after minho had given an enthusiastic definition of a rimjob to jinki.
'it was educational,' taemin retorted, and in a way, it was. it was certainly more straightforward than anything kibum had given jinki. but still, jinki had cast him his own looks, alternating between amusement and confusion. kibum shrugged helplessly and tapped their shared device reassuringly.
for now, it was much of the same as yesterday, minho and taemin keeping each other company while jinki worked on the ship. kibum was stewing over his business, trying to think past today, or tomorrow, to the return to his regular life.
it was much easier when jinki wasn't calling him out, excitement laced through his voice.
'kibum! come here!'
he gets up and heads out to the back. the ship looks great, with jinki perched atop the cockpit, half his body hidden inside.
'good news?' he asks, careful to have the button clicked.
'yes! very good!' he yells joyfully back. 'come here!'
'how?' he asks, because he doesn't feel like possibly cracking his back from falling onto the pavement. jinki laughs, the slightly alien rhythm of it, and extracts himself, climbing down with no problem at all. when he meets kibum, he turns to present his back and leans forward slightly.
'get on,' he says.
'it's called a piggyback ride,' kibum says uncertainly. he reaches out to touch the broad expanse of his back, before retracting. 'are you sure?'
'yes!' jinki says.
well, when it's said like that, kibum does his best, hopping awkwardly up and wrapping his legs around his hips. jinki grabs at his ankles and starts up, so that kibum is sitting further up on his back. he still smells like kibum's soap, even back as he is in his suit, and it's making the whole experience that much more surreal as jinki clambers easily back up to where he was.
'um, jinki, it's a little small,' because the entry is. looking into it, he's not sure how jinki expects both of them to fit, when he must have just had enough room to squeeze his lower half into the porthole-sized space. jinki shakes his head.
'it's not small,' he explains, without explaining. 'watch.'
he starts squeezing himself in, getting to his earlier position of being cut off at the waist. when he moves to slide down further, his upper half disappears in a blink, leaving the gap empty.
'what the fuck - jinki!' he yells, looking down and also watching his own step, now paranoid about being transported god knows where.
'it's okay!' comes his voice from - inside? kibum peers closer and can't see him at all. anxiously, he dips one toe into the space, but nothing happens. as though entering a cold pool, he starts to clamber in, toe, foot, knee, then the other. all of the sudden he can feel a grip around his ankle and shrieks in fear, starting to kick out before jinki's voice calls out again.
'it's me, i'm here.'
'okay,' he says, chanting it to himself, once, twice - on the third time he bends his knees to go lower, and just as the metal siding brushes his belly button he can feel something wrap around him, like a squeezing flash of warmth, and then he really is being squeezed, by jinki's solid arms, the alien smiling at him reassuredly.
'not small,' he says, and releases him so kibum can see he's now inside a spaceship a good three times bigger than it was on the outside.
'yep. you're right,' he concedes. 'not small.'
'i want to show you something,' jinki says, and he takes him to the front. out of the window he can see the entry into his salon, and beneath it is an expanse of controls. on the far left, there's a screen with another alien, his helmet off, pink hair almost cartoonishly bright.
'jonghyun,' jinki says, with clear affection in his voice. 'kibum.'
'hi,' kibum says, waving. jonghyun waves back, but doesn't speak, clearly turning to look at jinki to translate.
he's gotten so used to jinki talking in korean that it's disorienting to hear him let out those indiscernible noises again, and to hear jonghyun respond back in kind, but he doesn't want to interrupt the clearly happy reunion. jinki is smiling wide, and jonghyun's a bit softer, but obviously genuine.
they're talking about his coming home. kibum wraps his arms around his torso and waits, because what else can he do? this was an accident, after all, and accidents get fixed.
they are talking for a while, it seems, their tones shifting into something more serious - as best kibum can tell - so he takes a step back and begins looking around. the ship is bigger than outside, but clearly was only ever meant for two - two seats, two beds towards the back. there has to be some food for their journeys, kept somewhere, or maybe they were fed nutrients, like in the matrix, until it was time to wake up. it's a big universe, and jinki is meant to be somewhere else in it. not here. not with kibum.
'done,' jinki says, cutting through kibum's thoughts. when he turns back, jinki is looking at him, so he comes forward. from the screen, jonghyun looks pleased to have jinki (and minho, but - you know - fuck him, he goes in the same bucket as taemin) coming back soon.
'done?' he asks and jinki nods, pleasure evident on his face. he performs a complex little signal with his hands that jonghyun reciprocates, and then reaches out to turn it off.
'can we go outside?' kibum asks, because he doesn't think he can stand to be in this ship anymore, with its two seats, two beds, and engine ready to leave. he moves aimlessly back towards where jinki caught him, and jinki lets out that alien laugh, richer for having talked to jonghyun, high off of his happiness.
'there,' he guides kibum to one of the circles decorating the floor, hand gently clutching at his elbow. 'wait.'
that bright, warm flash and kibum is on top of the ship, with taemin and minho looking up at him from the blacktop. before he can make an excuse for his expression - because he can feel it - he can feel the pressure of tears at the corner of his eyes, jinki appears as well. he turns and leans forward again, inviting kibum to ride his back once more, and kibum - he's not proud of this at all - he clutches jinki in a hug from behind, before jumping up into the piggyback.
they climb down together, kibum burying his face in jinki's neck. he's sure he can feel a snotty tear or two, and wipes it across his yellow suit before sliding off.
'ready?' minho asks, anticipation evident in his voice.
'ready,' jinki says. in unison they make that hand signal jinki just shared with jonghyun, and kibum clears his throat.
'thanks for - thanks for crashing into our planet,' he offers, with a respectable command of his voice.
'it was our pleasure,' jinki says.
'literally,' taemin interrupts, elbowing at minho, and the taller alien blushes with a greenish tint. he steps forward to be side by side with jinki, and they each bow forward to taemin and kibum, from their waist, in perfect form.
then, jinki turns to minho:
'i've spoken to jonghyun about the return, and he is prepared,' and he turns to taemin, who - kibum is now noticing - has a bag over his shoulder. 'i have marked all foods that can be eaten. do not stare at the stars too long; you will burn your eyes out.'
'what,' says kibum.
'i brought sunglasses,' taemin argues.
'that's not enough,' minho says, and jinki is handing him his helmet, and minho is moving to place it over taemin's head, and jinki is taking off his suit, revealing one of kibum's old t-shirts, and some sweatpants, and -
'what,' says kibum.
'i want to stay,' jinki says. as he steps out of his suit, he stumbles, and minho catches him with long practice. he moves forward and kibum instinctively turns away from minho and taemin's gazes, trying to find some privacy, to find some equilibrium, because jinki is talking like -
'i like you,' he says.
'you don't know what that means,' kibum says, but jinki smiles.
'yes, i do,' he says, gentle, always gentle. 'i'm not leaving town.'
mrs. choi, and kibum's fingers on the button, keeping it on. jinki pressing the device against his ear, listening carefully and telling kibum he should be happy.
'it's not fair to you,' kibum says again, because he is selfish, he has always wanted more for himself, and in his experience what he wants, doesn't agree to be had. 'your planet - '
'my planet doesn't have you.'
jinki closes his hands over his.
'kibum,' he says. 'will kissing make you happy today?'
'yes,' he whispers, and jinki smiles. there are stars in his eyes.
the space between them closes, their lips pressed together, the world is shaking, rumbling like it never has before and jinki is holding him close as the ship lifts off, taemin pressed against the window like a bug. behind him, minho waves, the light bouncing off his helmet.
jinki is pressing another kiss to kibum's hair as he watches the ship become smaller and smaller, until it's little more than another dot of white among the clouds.
period drama!shinee where minho tries to train taemin but not really.
i’m sorry if this is terrible but i enjoyed writing it, which is strange for me because i never usually write 2min LOL. i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting!!
“What do you mean you can’t train me today?”
Taemin is whiny, which he knows Jonghyun can’t stand but he can’t believe his hyung is doing this right now.
Jonghyun groans, having known Taemin was going to pull the baby card and try to make him move. “I’m fucking sick and just the thought of having to get up and sword fight makes me feel like throwing up.” He angrily turns over in his bed, spooning the extra pillow next to him.
Taemin pouts. “I don’t wanna train with Kai or Kibum hyung. And Jinki hyung went to talk to the king in Baekje. They don’t train me like you do.”
Jonghyun heaves a heavy sigh. “Train with Minho then. He’s free and frankly, much better than I am. Stop bugging me.” He’s sounding groggier and groggier so Taemin lets it go. He stands up, brushing off his hanbok before leaving Jonghyun’s room. Minho’s is right next door. Taemin lightly taps it and then enters.
Minho is sharpening a sword when Taemin practically barges in. He wrinkles his nose. “I thought you were training with Jonghyun hyung today.”
“He has the flu so he sent me to you. Can we train?” Taemin asks meekly.
Minho smiles, nodding kindly. He stands up, grabbing two swords from the neat set on the adjacent wall he was leaning against. He hands one to Taemin and they head out into the courtyard.
Taemin hates training with Minho though, and he wishes that he could have told Jonghyun that. He doesn’t necessarily hate Minho himself, he just hates how his heart speeds up when he sees him or how his hands get really sweaty, even when it’s freezing cold outside.
Minho is completely oblivious to Taemin trailing reluctantly behind him. He leads the younger out to the courtyard before turning around and assuming a fighting position. Taemin sloppily copies him. Minho starts first and Taemin does a weak job of defending himself.
“Pivot. Pivot your ankle,” Minho instructs. He grunts when he sees Taemin jump back out of fear instead. He drops his arm, gasping for breath.
“Sorry,” Taemin mumbles. “I’ll try harder.”
Minho smiles weakly. “Don’t worry. You’re close. When your opponent goes for your left shoulder, pivot on your right ankle and go for an under strike. You’ll get it, seriously.”
Taemin nods tentatively, fiddling with his thumbs through his sword. Minho resumes position and Taemin copies. Minho thrusts his sword towards Taemin’s left shoulder and the younger tries to pivot his ankle. Instead, he pivots it too hard and ends up tripping over his own damned feet. Minho catches him as if he’s trust falling just before Taemin hits the ground. He looks up at Minho’s rather flustered looking face.
“I’m- hyung I, I’m sorry,” Taemin stutters. He’s so embarrassed that he’d rather be caught walking around in his underwear by Jinki again than suffer through this.
Instead of helping Taemin stand up, Minho lowers him carefully to the ground as if he’s the equivalent of a precious glass art. He makes sure Taemin’s legs are straight before he removes his boots, sliding his body around to get a better look.
“What are you going?” Taemin asks quietly. He chews on his lower lip.
“Checking to see if your ankle is broken,” Minho replies. He bends his right ankle carefully back and forth, then slides up to check Taemin’s leg alignment. When he looks up to meet eyes with the younger, his face is barely three inches away.
Taemin leans in a little bit closer and then Minho closes the gap. It’s a light kiss and it’s short but Taemin’s heart is pounding and Minho can feel his ears turn red. He immediately stands up.
“God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that,” Minho says quickly. His face is red and he hates that Taemin looks shocked but he himself wants to do it again.
Taemin seems to read his mind. His face is tinted pink as he steps on his tiptoes and kisses Minho again, only this time, his arms have looped around his neck and it’s much longer. Minho wraps his arms around Taemin’s waist.
“Hey Taemin, Jonghyun hyung said- Oh shit.”
Minho and Taemin immediately break apart, Taemin shoving Minho aside. The older folds his hands behind his back, standing right next to Taemin and facing Kibum, of all people.
“Oh, um, hyung. It’s not- Minho hyung and I weren’t- aren’t! Really it’s just-” Taemin is sputtering like a broken engine.
“I kissed him first, Kibum,” Minho interrupts. He looks too stoic to be saying something as dramatic as that.
Kibum shakes his hands, almost dismissing it. “No no, don’t worry. I just came to see if your training was going well because Jong hyung said you wouldn’t stop whining. Seems like it’s going… good. Resume.” He leaves, managing a rather uncomfortable smile.
Minho shrugs and turns back to Taemin. “Can I train you tomorrow as well?” He bites the inside of his mouth shyly. “Jonghyun hyung may have the flu for a while.”
“For you, of course,” Taemin whispers. He peppers another kiss on Minho’s cheek. “Can we get dumplings?”
Minho nods, admiring how cutely Taemin is grinning as he looks up at him. His eyes look like little stars and Minho knows he’ll keep getting lost in them. As cheesy as it sounds, forever, of course.
Can I request Minho with prompt 27, please? 😄- “ Dance with me! ”
-Anon
27 for 2min please!! -Anon
Taemin looked so good
He sat there pouting, stirring a crappy mixed drink with too much vodka in it. He’d agreed to go to this wedding with Taemin because he was a good friend, because Taemin promised to not leave his side, and also because he was pretty much in love with the younger boy. It’s not that he didn’t want to go, he just didn’t feel like attending a wedding reception as his ‘date’ as Taemin had phrased it. He didn’t want to go on a ‘date’ especially if it wasn’t for an actual date.
Taemin was currently on the dance floor. He was doing a line dance with a ton of his relatives, as his cousin had gotten married and his entire family was there. Minho watched the younger boy carefully, not missing a kick, a sway of the hips, and definitely not missing the sudden eye contact between them both.
Minho froze, was he just caught watching Taemin? Was Taemin creeped out? Should Minho just go wait in the car for Taemin to be done?
Taemin smirked and threw a party in his head when he noticed the older boy watching him dance with his family. He must care to some degree, right? Taemin approached Minho, who was still panicking internally. “Minho! Come on! Dance with me!” He said, grabbing Minho by the arm and dragging him onto the dance floor, just as the line dance music was ending.
Taemin waited for the next song to start, and screamed quietly in his head as the music turned out to be a slow song. Minho chuckled when he saw Taemin’s confident air falter a bit. He took the younger around the waist and pulled him close. Taemin hesitantly wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck, clasping his hands together behind the elder, and they fell into a quiet step, holding each other tightly and each of them savoring the moment.
A/N I know the 1st anon asked for just Minho, but I figured I could combine with no problem. Thanks!!
"Knock knock, you've knocked on my heart with your ticklish whispers."
(x)
...
A sheen of sweat forms on the panes of his sculpted chest, forming rivulets from various pockets of heat, and Taemin is beginning to find the room to be at least twice its actual temperature-- he too is beginning to feel heat blanketing him, and yet he's hardly followed any of Minho's workout suggestions. Why he thought going to the gym with his insanely sexy crush was a good idea is completely beyond him because it's impossible to accomplish anything while fighting the beginnings of a boner.
He nearly curses aloud as he tears his gaze away from the flexing, bulging muscles of his 'best friend' as he bench presses some ridiculous weight that would crush himself, and focuses on the boring, beeping treadmill directly ahead.
Don't think about it, don't think about him. He repeats the mantra in his head as he speeds up the pace, doing his best to keep his mind blank by really feeling the burn of exertion in his calves and thighs. If he could just not think about the nearly-shirtless and handsome devil beside him, he'd be okay.
Actually Taemin really wishes he had a crush on anyone but Minho- the person who's straighter than a ruler, and no, not the bendy kind. If the younger had a crush on Jonghyun, he would easily be able to confess; after all, the brunette isn't one to shy away from romance or sex or anything of the sort.
He only has one problem, and that being the man next to him, grunting with every upward push of the weights.
If he could just get over it, he could be with another handsome guy, or maybe even a pretty girl, actually. But his sights have unfortunately locked onto Minho, meaning every single time the blonde goes out dancing or drinking, he doesn't feel right with anyone else. He doesn't feel a connection, he doesn't click, and it never gets past the making out stage.
It both infuriates Taemin and makes him feel stupid. He's known his entire life that his hyung has a strong attraction to women, and women only. In the third grade, he had his first kiss with Sulli, a pretty girl with silky long black hair who lived in their neighborhood at the time. Not even once while growing up has Minho shown an inclination to men-- pretty or otherwise, much to Taemin's dismay.
Even though he knows his hyung only sees him as a friend, maybe even a little brother, he still craves his every touch. A fleeting embrace, long fingers ruffling his hair, a surprise tickle attack, the occasional cuddle. They all set Taemin's nerves on fire, leaving his skin tingling and his heart pounding. Once it's physically gone, the lingering feeling invades his thoughts and it becomes the only thing he can think about.
So many nights of sleep have been lost thanks to Minho and more specifically, his imagination. Those lingering feelings push him into a realm of 'what ifs' and 'if he dids.' He begins to create scenarios in his head, different nearly every time.
He imagines every dip, every plane, every chiseled muscle of Minho's chest as he strips before ordering Taemin to do the same. He'll imagine his hyung being dominant and bossy sometimes. On other nights, he creates a softer, romantic fantasy of making love, or even Minho giving himself to Taemin... Or perhaps sweet cuddling on the couch leading to something more.
No matter the creation in his head, they all lead to the same conclusion; Taemin and his hand. Because Minho wants a woman, and Taemin can't be a woman even if he tried.
He lets out a long huff of frustration, masked by his heavy breathing of his workout. The treadmill is actually up quite high, and it's a new record for him. He still speculates that it doesn't compare to Minho's, (the guy is into every physical activity there is) but he's fairly proud of himself. His stamina is improving and the tones muscles in his abdomen and biceps are giving him so much more confidence.
Once he's dabbed his face with a towel and chugged down some of his water, his eyes automatically drift back to his 'best friend,' who's still lifting weights. The sight is unfortunately not helping his situation, and he's reminded why he never invites Minho to join him on his daily workouts. It's impossible to tear his gaze away when he's so painfully attracted to him. He's sweating more now, sweat dripping down his arms as he lifts and letting out sinful groans in the process.
Taemin's thankful that his crush can't even notice him from where he is, because that boner issue hasn't completely been resolved yet.
He thinks about using an excuse to go to the bathroom or something to take care of himself but the thought of cumming with only a wall separating him from Minho sends a shiver down his spine. What if he heard? What if he heard him moan his name? The sheer embarrassment would kill him. Not only that, but how on earth would he explain? It's not even like him to be so desperate and that's another thing that upsets him.
So he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, turning his back on the muscular man and deciding to move onto sit ups, praying it'll be enough to distract him from vulgar thoughts.
One, two, three. It's hard to focus at first, but as he keeps count in his head, it gets a bit easier to ignore his crush. Time seems both infinite and equally short whenever he's working out like this so he can never accurately judge time. But on the 57th crunch, he starts to see Minho walking up to him, a small smile on his sweaty, handsome face.
Taemin's trying to keep his sole focus on counting the sit ups, but holy crap, why are there warm hands touching his ankles? He ceases his movements and arches a brow at his hyung who's spreading the younger's feet apart in almost a teasing kind of way. Somehow his heart pounds even harder in his chest, and his crunches become less rhythmic because Minho's touch is very distracting indeed, especially when he's vulnerable like this.
"Your knees are too close together, Taemin," he corrects with an airy chuckle, his hand moving slightly up his calf, sending little electric shocks up his leg. The blonde presses his lips together, sucking the bottom one beneath his teeth, biting down on it and wishing it could distract him enough to not have a response to the teasing touch.
"Why are you so tense?" Minho asks, peering down at him with an inquisitive glance, leaving his hand on his kneecap, carressing the skin softly.
Taemin sits up this time and stays up, thankful that the flush on his face can be excused by his workout. "Ah, sorry hyung... I'm just really focused," he says, though he thinks Minho can tell he's not being completely truthful (an unfortunate side effect of knowing one another for so long). "You'd make a great personal trainer, ever thought of it?"
Thankfully, if Minho has any doubts, he doesn't voice them, he simply laughs it off. "Sure, it's crossed my mind. But I'd rather be an actor, you know that!"
Yeah, of course Taemin knows. There's nothing he doesn't know about Minho, his best friend, his hyung, his ultimate crush. It's hard not to know everything when Minho is so open and honest about himself, too. As a matter of fact, one of the things the shorter admires most about him is his open and genuine nature... not many people have that these days.
"I know," he answers with a small smile, leaning back down to resume his crunches. He feels even hotter under the gaze of Minho's deep brown eyes, but he tries to ignore it and continue the work out so he doesn't get a scolding- playful or not.
By the time he's finished a set of 100 crunches, his abs are burning from the exertion. He lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he lays down with his back pressed against mat. "How do you do that?" he asks breathlessly, not really expecting an answer. Minho's workout routine is and always has been more intense than Taemin's.
"Practice," his hyung answers, a strangely playful tone in his voice. Curious, Taemin opens his eyes to look at him, as if that'll give him a better understanding of why he's in such a good mood.
"You had to be born part demi-god or something," the younger murmurs, rolling to his side to stretch his already aching abdominal muscles.
"Nope, I'm 100% human, but feel free to call me Godho if you like!" He smiles widely, nudging the smaller's shoulder gently.
"Pfft, I'm not one of your ex-girlfriends! I'll stick to boring hyung," Taemin counters, an equally wide smile on his lips as well. The playful banter is one of his favourite things to do, because it's in these moments where it doesn't matter if it's friendship or something more, he enjoys it no matter what.
"Boring? I'm not boring!" Minho's lips turn into a frown, and he pokes the younger's stomach in a ticklish spot.
Taemin can't help but giggle at the ticklish feeling, automatically cradling his stomach and trying to push his attacker away. "Minhoooo, stop!" he half says, half laughs as the taller begins to use both hands, pinning him down against the mat with one.
"Not until you take it back!" Minho says with a dazzling grin, and Taemin's absolutely helpless beneath him. Laughter falls from his lips endlessly, and he can't get rid of the smile because being tickled by his favourite hyung isn't so bad. It makes him feel relaxed and carefree, almost like when they were just kids playing together after school.
"Okay, okay!" he gives in, unable to take any more of the light touch on his tummy. Tears leak out of his eyes from laughing so hard as the brunette finally stops but oddly enough, keeps him pinned on the floor.
After a few moments, Taemin's eyes meet Minho's questioningly, slightly nervous and confused in this position. From this angle, he could clearly see the beautiful curve of his slightly parted pink lips, and god, they look so plush and kissable. He wonders what they would feel like against his own. Would it be natural, like how every other touch felt? Or would it be like playing with fire, seductive and hot, powered by his pent up lust?
His heart is beating harshly in his chest as his handsome hyung leans closer and closer, putting more of his weight on him. Suddenly they're not in the realm of playful friends anymore, and the blonde is so very aware of every little touch. His mind is spinning as he looks to Minho's chocolate coloured eyes, lost in them for a moment before those pink lips catch his attention again. He wants to kiss them with every fiber of his being. But to his knowledge, Minho' isn't bisexual or curious or anything of the sort, and it would be so wrong to steal a kiss from him. If the blonde boy wasn't pinned, he would pull back and apologise for invading his personal space like this... but he can't.
Instead he tries to clear his mind and calm his thudding heart... but in the one second that his eyes fall closed for a blink, Minho's breath tingles his lips and oh god, that's it. Taemin can't help himself and closes what little distance there is between their faces, and it feels so different from any kiss he's had before. It feels right. He can feel their smooth, firm form against his lips and it's even better than he imagined. He holds himself back from deepening the kiss, subconsciously terrified of what'll happen when their lips part.
He's about to pull away and apologise when the tip of Minho's tongue slides over his bottom lip, meaning only one thing. His mind goes blank and Taemin gives into his desires; parting his lips and cupping the older's slick neck. It all feels too good, too right, too hot. The way his tongue teases him makes him dizzy and he craves more already. His hand slides through the short, soft hair greedily as he playfully pushes his tongue back, lost in the heat of the moment.
It's not unreciprocated, either. Minho's eagerly kissing him back, his grip moving down Taemin's side to his hip, and it sends a whole different form of pleasure through his body. The feeling is everything he’s needed, and wanted for so long. It feels right and wrong all at the same time. He suddenly remembers that his hyung was supposed to be straight, and this makes no sense. The realisation throws him off, and he breaks apart from Minho, turning his head away in both embarrassment and mild fear.
What should he say or do now? This moment suddenly exposes him and everything he’s been feeling, and now he’s struggling to make sense of it all.
His thoughts are halted when Minho’s lips brush across his cheek, moving over to the shell of his ear. “Taemin,” he murmurs in a husky, breathless voice that makes more of the blood run south, his sensitive member forming a tent in his pants. “I know how you feel about me.”
That voice- it shouldn’t turn him on so much, let alone in a public place... and yet, here he is, absolutely putty in his hands despite it all. He swallows thickly, at a loss for words and silently hoping that Minho will continue to explain. His hand moves to rest on his smooth, defined bicep as he continues to avoid his gaze- not sure of where to touch that isn’t too intimate.
“I heard you talking to Kibum,” Minho whispers, his thumb dipping beneath his shirt, gently rubbing his hip bone, and fuck, Taemin’s so close to just forgetting his thoughts and going with the moment. He wants to let go of his worries and just be with him, even if it’s just the one time. That thought gives him the courage to turn and face him, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he catches the look in his eyes as he utters, “I like you too, Taemin.”
His control snaps upon hearing those words; there are so many questions he needs to ask, but his body wins out over his mind. His arms move to wrap around Minho’s neck as he nips his bottom lip, subconsciously arching his back to pull him as close as possible. It's thrilling and wonderful and his heart feels like it's ready to burst as he holds his hyung's against his. It feels so right and natural just like all of their other touches- except this is so hot, he feels like his blood is boiling beneath his skin.
It doesn’t take long before Minho takes back control of their liplock, exploring the younger’s mouth with clear experience that makes him weak. He's thrilled by every touch of those wandering hands, those warm, long fingers sending little electric pulses into the skin of his stomach. A moan slips from the back of his throat as those fingers turn to gentle claws, returning down lower to his abdomen.
It’s the older who pulls away this time, a bit of a smirk on his lips that drives the younger crazy. “This is long overdue… let’s get out of here.” He offers his hand, which Taemin takes gratefully, and is pulled to standing. The younger is blushing and has no clue what to say to him, so he follows him to the locker room without a word, wishing he could regain control of his hormone-crazed body. His mind is reeling in both mild shock and confusion- he’d never expected Minho to actually return even a fraction of what he felt.
Now that it’s clear there’s something on Minho’s end, too, he can’t stop the fleeting thought of this being the beginning of a relationship from invading his mind. He really doesn’t want to get his hopes up because he suspects it won’t be easy, but after years of wondering ‘what if’ he can’t help but want that to come true.
He’s shaken from his daze when Minho let’s go of his hand to lift off his shirt, shamelessly stripping in front of the younger with a grin. At the sight of the naked, muscled chest in front of him, his teeth automatically sink into his bottom lip, and after being frustrated for so long, it's hard to not respond to the sight. He so badly wants to feel each of those muscles with the pads of his fingers and mark the beautiful unblemished skin of Minho’s neck. There's so much he wants to do that he's unsure of which to do first.
He almost doesn’t care that someone could come in at anytime… and if Minho was already his boyfriend, he really wouldn’t care. The only thing stopping him is that he doesn’t want their first to be in the gym locker room, rushed and quiet. He wants it to be something more intimate than that, and he’s pleased Minho seems to feel the same.
As the older puts on fresh clothes, Taemin can’t help but stare… he’s suddenly so obvious with his crush, but judging by the look in Minho’s eye as the younger undresses, it’s equally reciprocated. As the blonde boy bends down to pick up his shirt, he feels the brunette’s hand cupping the curve of his ass and he can’t resist the urge to smirk- it feels good knowing that Minho is attracted to him, too.
“You always wear such tight jeans,” the words are a frustrated whisper as he squeezes the jean-clad flesh, and Taemin does his best to hold back any sounds threatening to escape his lips. “God I want you so bad-” The words send a shiver down his spine, but he manages to hold onto just enough composure to pull back.
“Patience is a virtue,” he says teasingly, standing up straight with his shirt in hand before turning to Minho, showing him the smirk on his lips before bringing his lips to his ear as his hyung did to him earlier, wanting to tease him back and curious to see his reaction. “I want you to fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk in the morning-” Judging by the sigh that escapes Minho’s lips, his teasing has done the trick... and he's discovered that his hyung likes dirty talking.
“Careful what you wish for,” Minho smirks, mirroring the playfulness before bringing a hand to the younger's chin and connecting their lips again. This kiss is just as heated as the rest; after a moment, his bare back meets the lockers behind him, and the chill catches him by surprise, making him pull away from the kiss with a small laugh, resting his head against the strong shoulder in front of him.
“We should go before we get carried away,” the blonde murmurs, the heat from the kiss lingering in his cheeks as he looks up to meet his hyung’s gaze.
“Let’s go then,” Minho grins, stepping back from the blonde, clearly every bit as frustrated as Taemin. It’s a relief in a way- it’s like all of his worries vanish in the blink of an eye because it’s so clear: Minho wants him. His guilt over carrying a painful crush vanishes, too. Because he’s not crazy for wanting Minho like this.
Neither of them waste any time getting to Taemin’s studio flat.
minho is workin at a convenience store when suddenly,,,
(((((i replaced jonghyun w minho cuz i dont have many 2min fics)))))
warnings: food, cursing, robbery
Minho sighs, leaning against the counter as he blows his 37th bubble of tasteless, stale gum, flicking through some boring gossip magazine. Only two people had come into the convenience store the entire day, and if he has to read one more article about the latest date Sistar’s Soyou and Dasom went on, he’s going to flip.
The front door’s bell jingles, signalling the arrival of a customer, and Minho immediately perks up. His prayers have been answered. It’s that cute boy. That really cute boy who comes in once a week, or so, to buy Red Bull and Funyuns.
Minho obnoxiously chews on his bubblegum as he, not so subtly, watches the cute boy meander around the store, lazily searching for his dinner of choice. He’s got bags under his eyes today, and his blonde hair is a little messy, but that doesn’t change the fact that he looks damn good in those tightass jeans. He winks once he catches the boy’s gaze, receiving an eyeroll and an annoyed huff, but he won’t let this reluctance discourage him. It’s only a matter of time before his good looks, flirty winks, and witty one-liners get to the boy.
Minho blows another bubble, mulling over which pick up line to use once he comes up to the register. Last week, when the boy complimented his sweater, he hit him with the classic, “thanks, it’s made of boyfriend material”, and the week before that, he said, “much like your questionable purchases, you’re looking like a whole snack today”, earning himself a shy giggle.
The boy saunters up to the register, looking a little more nervous and shifty than usual, Red Bull and Funyuns in hand, and holy shit his legs in those jeans.
And that’s when it hits him.
The jeans. There’s a bulge near his right pocket. Just under the hem of his baggy sweatshirt.
Minho is a genius.
He leans forward as the boy deposits his snacks on the counter, smirking.
“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
“”Wh- what? A gun? I...” the boy gulps, eyes wide.
“Um, yeah. You know,” Minho coughs awkwardly, realizing that he should have set up the joke a lot better, “A gun as if you were robbing me, or something- because, uh, convenience stores get robbed...”
“Oh, well in that case, yes. It’s a gun,” the boy whips a revolver out of his pocket and smiles sweetly, and under any other circumstances, Minho would have blushed.
“Um- uh, I don’t-” Minho stutters, raising his hands and blinking rapidly.
“Empty the register,” he says, and when Minho just continues to stare at him confusedly, he thrusts the gun forward, taking on a completely different demeanor than the shy, adorable boy Minho is used to, “Now.”
“S- sure. No problem,” he jolts into action, scrambling to empty the register, sliding what little cash it contained towards the boy. He accepts it, shoving wads into his pockets, maintaining his gun’s position.
“See you around,” he smirks, turning on his heel to walk out.
“W-wait!” Minho stammers, “You forgot your snacks...” The boy snorts, jogs back over to swipe his things, and winks at Minho.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
“No problem...” Minho mumbles. He watches the boy leave, and feels a little guilty over how he’s more focused on his ass than on calling the police, or whatever you’re supposed to do with adorable, hot criminals that you may or may not still have a crush on, despite being scared shitless only moments earlier.
~
“Hey.”
“Hey...”
“You didn’t just steal a couple hundred bucks, last time.”
“What?”
“You stole my heart, too.”
“...I’ll just take the Funyuns and Red Bull today, thanks.”
