Work Text:
He's so soft, is Minho's only thought as he lazily pulls the sniffling man deeper into his arms.
Really, it's not like he's going anywhere, anyway. Minho's not scared that this man will leave him. He knows that his hyung is the type of guy who would write a cute message on a pad of rabbit-themed sticky notes and stick it endearingly on the bed side table in case he needed to leave to be somewhere else.
But the security of knowing that Jinki chose to be with him, fills Minho's head with so much lovesickness that he really thinks he'll burst. But on mornings like this, where Jinki is warmly pressed to his side, he finds it hard not to think so much about this precious gift that stirs beside him.
The fans- no, the world knows that Jinki is clumsy, adorable and lacking grace as he trips and hops everywhere he goes, pulling laughter onto people's faces the way even a dosage of serotonin can't.
But the world isn't ready to know that Jinki has literally tripped his way into Minho's heart, and thank goodness Minho has a seemingly infalliable poker face. Because Minho is scared that one day, someone will look at him and catch him off guard and realize how much he actually loves Jinki.
No, he doubts even Jinki understands how deeply ingrained he is in the mechanism of Minho's being. It's pretty ridiculous, the hold his hyung has on him.
Minho wasted too much time when he was younger; so tense, always so angry, playing the distant, quiet, princely role the company set upon him. Always lingering behind; Jinki pulling on his own mask nearly every day in those debut days; those magical days where the five of them were just boys trying to make it in an industry that had yet just barely existed.
And Minho watched, amongst doing other things. He watched Jinki exude his Onew characteristics, watched him fall badly and shrug it off with a smile. Always just watched as Jinki mediated, negotiated, placated, comforted the others. Then, at some point, watched as he withdrew into himself, refusing to share his thoughts or feelings, constantly smiling and nodding like everything was alright.
It made Minho stew in rage, back in those days. Already the second youngest in the group, feeling very worthless when he got injured during a shooting of Dream Team all those years ago, feeling like a baby when he was supposed to be an adult; it was the unpleasant feeling of growing out of clothes, but not having the resources yet to get new ones. Even worse, Jinki didn't want to share his problems with Minho. Why would he, anyway? Before that point, all Minho had done was watch and obey and get moody and shut his mouth, rarely stepping in to offer a hand, even though his fists clenched and his eyes stung and his head throbbed and all he had wanted to do was hold Jinki against himself and never let him go.
And really, Minho should have known. He should have known that, whatever thing he felt for Jinki, was no normal feeling a group member, nor a friend, would feel for another.
It was earth shattering for Minho, but he still couldn't quite understand when or how Jinki had managed to seemingly pick away at his guard, or when exactly his vision started tunneling and all he could see was JinkiJinkiJinki and all he could think was JinkiJinkiJinki and he ached to find the line that separated Jinki and Onew and he wanted all of him, Jinki and everything that made Jinki, Jinki. And the line between Jinki and Onew blurred and sometimes Minho couldn't differentiate if it was Jinki or Onew staring back at him so intensely.
They always say Minho is passionate. They don't even know half of it. Because Minho has never half-assed anything in his life. He's the type who, when he really wants something, will chase after it as if his life depends on it. Jinki was no exception. His heart always thudded at a speed that worried him whenever he was near Jinki, made him want to package all of his height into a tupperware container, hoping that no one would see just how much he was freaking out.
Because Minho isn't scared now for how he feels about Jinki, but before, it felt too intense. Too heady. Too much. He just felt too much for Jinki, all the time. A boy, not even a man, rendered helpless by a glimpse of that smile, a line of lyrics, a simple melody. Looking back on it, Jinki had seduced Minho even from their pre-debut days. Jinki's subtle drive, his longing as he sang In My Room.Maybe that had been the initiation that had first kicked Minho's heart into a stuttering beat, startling his slowly growing interest towards a boy who knew nothing of love and yet sang like he had lived a thousand lifetimes.
Even now, after so many years of debut, Minho still didn't understand. How had Jinki sung with so much passion, just so much everything? A boy who must have known nothing of that dragging, longing love, who had unknowingly and unintentionally planted that relentless seed into Minho's own body, neither boy knowing of just how strong that feeling would grow and shoot up outside of their awareness.
The deep impression of a deceivingly unimpressive boy with a voice that mere mortals would never be able to create, a soft caress of the recording microphone, neat yet damp papers spread along a music stand, and curled up hands and closed eyes and Minho thought he had seen an angel that day. He's still convinced that Jinki must be part angel. A trance, it was really a trance and it's been 13 years and Minho hasn't woken up from the spell which Jinki had cast with his unmistakable voice.
His dream is now his reality and he has never woken up from the melody that hangs off of Jinki's lips.
Everyone tells Minho he's like a piece of work that should be displayed in an art museum. But he begs to differ. A statue, too, he's been called. Yet, Minho thinks that what's even more stunning than a statue is a live-moving piece, a submersive experience. Nothing is more interesting than bits and pieces of Jinki shining through on stage, shaking hands with Onew and bringing to light the parallels, the similarities and Jinki's lessening need to hide his true self behind a well-stretched grin. And Jinki had been the main person who looked past Minho's appearance and dug up a warm-hearted man with abundant feelings and motivation.
Jinki's so untouched, so precious in this cut throat industry and Minho would take him away, if only he didn't know that Jinki is actually the strongest of all of SHINee. Minho has no right to move Jinki from his place; a pillar, an unmovable mountain, or rather, maybe a peaceful floating island.
Minho strokes Jinki's hair away from his face, gently tucking it behind his hyung's ear, pulling the man even closer so that he feels they resemble ying and yang, all space taken up by two bodies that it's absurd to imagine a time when they weren't one. The dark days, Minho remembers. He knows what it's like to be completely in over his head for Jinki. Really, he's still like that now, where sometimes he gets struck by nostalgia and younger days and less complicated times when life was just about debuting. Now, he believes he has a better grip on handling himself.
So really, he sympathized with Taemin. If it was intense for Minho, who is two years older than their maknae, how was Taemin possibly enduring? Their sweet maknae and the sweetest, oldest hyung who was ever so attentive and indulgent towards their youngest. Hyung's attention was like the radiant beams of the sun on a dreary, cloudy day and Taemin and Minho especially had withdrawal symptoms when Jinki's attention was not affixed onto them.
Until one day it all stopped and Jinki turned away and could not indulge in one of Taemin's requests, and Taemin just... A puppy love, maybe? No matter how Taeminnie denied, Minho knew that he had truly loved his eldest hyung, even as that love was romantically fruitless and instead bore a different kind of produce in the strengthening of a brotherly bond. Yet, Minho knew the sincerity of the youngest boy's feelings. How could he possibly not? And although Taemin and Jinki had sorted it all, and secretly, Minho had been pleased that Jinki's trait of spoiling Taemin had its limits, there Minho was, once again drowning in feelings, crashing waves in the middle of an ocean pulling him under yet he swam deeper still, lulled by the call of a siren who held the voice of one Lee Jinki telling him to eat before their manager came.
And the bottom of the ocean?
It was calm.
And Minho realized the greatest love of all. It doesn't make your heart thud and your palms sweat and your eyes rapidly blink. Maybe a crush, maybe the earliest stages of a relationship. That thrill will pass eventually though, until it fades into mere nothingness and people try to excuse it by saying they fell out of love. Minho didn't buy it, just as he didn't believe Taemin those many years ago when he said what he had for Jinki was simply an infatuation. Taemin couldn't bare it, Jinki couldn't see it, or chose to remain ignorant, and so, Taemin cultivated it into something else. But no, what Minho and Jinki have is so much more. Their love is content and it is home.
Love is Jinki. It wasn't Jinki's stares that made him anxious; instead, it was what Jinki might find. Being around Jinki made him feel like his most honest version of himself and that's what made him uneasy. But not Jinki, Jinki made it feel natural to be himself. Jinki, who had a hard time himself with showing who he was, but who spared bits and pieces of himself to Minho until Minho had arranged his own life like art piece of Jinki in his mind. The best, most alluring artwork he would not allow the world to view.
And there was nothing sweeter, Minho thought, then being loved by Jinki. Minho ached for his attention, studied Jinki like he was a strategic soccer team plan that Minho would execute to reach victory. So many years, so many experiences, so much knowledge and that initial pull towards Jinki never declined; it simply heightened. Minho, who was always running, always of elevated heart beat, always competing and getting fired up, yet Jinki taught him that sometimes, life is better to be viewed as a marathon, or even a light stroll, rather than a race.
It was one of the hardest things Minho had had to learn, where the all-consuming attraction and obsession towards Jinki had only served to drive the older man away. Younger Minho's confession, his sudden profession, his flame of passion, had blown up in both his and Jinki's face; it had been entirely too much for Jinki to cope with, the poor man who had not even at that time considered being with someone of the same gender. Minho's confession had been like a catastrophe and the aftermath had been an eerie silence that had been devastatingly painful and terrible to burden, especially as it had been in the middle of a hectic promotion schedule. Minho had taken away Jinki's peace and privacy, which were both extremely important to Jinki's well-being.
Minho had come to the terrifying conclusion that he had only been thinking of himself. What Jinki had felt could be likened to an empty road, only to be violently struck by a vehicle. That was the impact of Minho's carelessness; a drunk confession after the end of a 3-day concert. He had treated his secret truth as well as Jinki as a loose-lipped after thought that once it had slipped through his mouth, had no way of stopping. He had disrespected Jinki, giving him a half-assed confession that went against everything Minho was and was way less than Jinki had deserved. He had repaid Jinki's gentleness with his stupid, reckless actions.
There were victims everywhere, and Minho shouldered these casualties as the sole driver of his emotional destruction.
It took months of re-kindling and failing words and faltering gestures and lingering affection until Minho and Jinki had been alright again. It had been different from Taemin's fall; Jinki and Taemin had bonded again quickly and although sometimes Taemin stared at Jinki with affection unbefitting their friendship status, Jinki had been generous to help Taemin pick himself up again, even though Jinki bore a responsibility, which looked more like a scar, in his guilt in not returning Taemin's affections.
But hyung's generosity had not extended to Minho after that collision; Jinki was clearly not ready and was clearly afraid, as well as ashamed and guilty of indulging his stranger feelings towards Minho that he had simply not had for Taemin, or any of the other group members, or really, any body at all.
And so, the boys, now men, with the help of those around them, took their precious time redefining, or rather modifying, their perceptions of the other until finally they came to fit around best with each other, despite the years and following months of tension and blundering.
And although Jinki is not some cheap prize to be won, Minho still feels like the ultimate winner when he wakes up and goes to bed with his only Jinki-hyung in the world by his side.
"Minho..." Jinki suddenly groaned, as Minho continued to softly brush his hair away from his face, two eyes slowly opening and captured in a sleepy haze.
"Mmh?" Minho hummed lazily, simply admiring the view.
"Please go back to bed." Jinki mumbled, snuggling into Minho.
And who was Minho to deny the one whom he loved most?
He couldn't think of a better place to be than right next to Jinki.
And so, he laid down once again, pressed against Jinki, their breaths slowing down and finally merged into a single, rhythmic pattern as the sun rose high in the sky, covering the lovers in the light of the sun's glow.