Chapter Text
“Hyung, not now,” Jisung sighed again and watched Minho back away, suspicious, lips retreating from their puckered expression. As they entered the stadium, the blistering sun's efforts quickly subsided, and the scorching pavement was replaced with dull tiles of vinyl, speckled with red and grey. They were what Jisung tried to keep his eyes on as they walked.
He counted the steps in between each square of flooring and paid attention to how it felt when the balls of his feet hit the soles of his shoes again, and again, and again. He could hear his bandmates chattering, laughing, and teasing Changbin again, something about him having hit his elbow climbing out of the van.
Jisung forced himself to keep his attention on his feet.
Left. Right. Left. Right. That was 4 steps.
Left. Right. Left-
“Hannie.” He snapped his head up and met the sweet face of Felix, where worry was knitted between each star within the galaxy of his cheeks. “What’s so interesting about the floor?” Felix glanced down to see what Jisung was so preoccupied with. “You good?”
Jisung nodded before he could fully register the question. “Y-yeah. ‘M fine. Just…focusing on the performance.” He avoided a glance at the concerned Minho beside him, knowing if he looked, he wouldn’t fight the urge to escape into the comfort of his arms.
Felix knew that it wasn’t only that night’s concert that made his eyes so glazed and his heart so heavy, but he also knew of Jisung’s anxious tendencies, so if Jisung didn’t wish to speak of it, he’d let it be. Felix simply nodded in sympathy, turning back to the teasing of their members so Jisung’s eyes could observe the tile again, where he felt Minho’s presence as they walked.
When Minho pulled him to walk on the inside of the sidewalk, Jisung couldn’t resist moving against him to feel the static between their arms as they brushed.
The dressing rooms were a good size, and they contained enough chaos to keep Jisung distracted from the sweat accumulating between the creases of his palms. Beelining to the newly obtained iced americanos, Jisung snagged the slice of cheesecake that sat alone on the catering table. He didn’t have to think about who ordered it for him. Minho always knew exactly what he needed in times like these.
Jisung’s anxiety swung rapidly between barely there and hardly bearable, with episodes lasting as long as weeks and symptoms crashing down in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t unusual for him to be quiet during a performance; the members would let him cling to his boyfriend and lose himself in his headphones, trusting in the process that usually got him back on his feet. Only now, he wasn’t participating in either method. Jisung was alone and subject to the busy soundscape of pre-concert jitters. Something was wrong. And he was drowning the feeling in cheesecake.
“Jisung-ah,” a cautious Chan approached him. “You’re acting different…what’s wrong?” He sat down next to the younger, watching the cake be shovelled into his squirrel-like cheeks, bite by bite. Though Jisung tried to ignore his leader, his body shifted slightly under the added weight on the couch cushions, forcing him to look at Chan.
The tension in the room was thick and waxy; it covered Jisung’s consciousness with the malicious intent of heightening his anxiety, but as the pressure grew thicker, it did not go unnoticed by the members. They were worried about Jisung, and he knew he couldn’t suppress his feelings for much longer.
“Lino is worried about you, Hannie,” Chan coaxed again, placing his left hand on his member’s shoulder. “You’re acting stranger than usual. Are you willing to talk about it?”
“I’m fine, hyung. I just didn’t get enough sleep.” Jisung brushed the comforting hand off, relishing the last moments of the physical contact he secretly desired.
This surprised Chan. Jisung was known to be among the touchiest of members, always initiating skinship to show his affection, and times when he was anxious were no different. Jisung’s stubbornness was enough motivation for him to press the issue further.
“We both know that’s not true, Sungie.”
“It is, hyung.”
“Let us help you-”
“I said I was fine, Hyung! Now let me go.” Jisung abruptly stood up, tossing his near-finished cake back on the coffee table and storming away, hot tears threatening to fall with every step. Jisung weaved in and out of rushing staff members, cautious of his timid expression and aware of his running thoughts as he looked for a private place to let it all go. After a short walk, he met a series of rooms he knew were makeup stations.
He could hide.
Jisung quickly sneaked into the small room, where he became grateful for the arena’s preference for doors over curtains. Jisung slumped against the cool wood as he locked it, trying not to break before he had to go onstage.
Letting a small sigh out, his head fell onto his arms, and he hugged himself quietly, becoming a bundle of tears and irritation. Jisung knew he needed help, and he had always accepted the comfort before, but he snapped at Chan, who was worried and trying to help.
Why was he like this? He had a show tonight. His performance would never be good enough if he didn’t accept their concerns for him, his singing would be raspy without a warmed voice, and he would be ugly without clear eyes. Who was he to push the people he loved away? Who was he to think he could get through this by himself? He was nothing but selfish and cruel and untalented and terrible and-
“Jagi?”
Jisung’s brain went silent.
It was Minho.
In the black makeup chair in front of him sat Jisung’s worried boyfriend, whose attention quickly turned to Jisung panicking on the floor. It didn’t take long for Minho to rush to his side, where Jisung could fall into his arms by force of habit.
The lovers didn’t speak as Jisung cried. Miinho hummed Piano Man by Billy Joel and let Jisung’s quiet tears dampen the shoulder of his favourite hoodie, but he didn’t mind the feeling. He was there to run his fingers through his black hair and cuddle his worries away.
“Talk to me, my love.” A kiss was placed on top of Jisung’s trembling head as the tears slowed.
“I can’t- I don’t-” Another sob is choked out, and a long pause followed as Jisung collected his thoughts. “I’m not…not lovable, hyung.”
A startled Minho gasped. “Oh, baby, no…”
“And I feel like my anxiety is just so much of a burden for everyone to worry about. I mean, I’m almost 25. I should be able to control how I act, but I’m just so selfish that I push everyone away and focus on myself,” Jisung’s voice broke.
“Hey, hey, hey, love…calm down, okay? Nobody says you’re selfish.”
“But-but everyone thinks it,” Jisung sniffled again. “I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”
“Sungie, I need you to look at me.”
Jisung looked up at him with his big, tear-filled eyes and a small pout on his lips that Minho had to fight not to kiss away.
“You are so loved.” Minho left a peck on his nose. “The members love you more than you could ever know, and I, especially, love you.” Another kiss is left on his forehead. “Okay? I will never think of you as a burden. You are the light and love of my life, Han Jisung. Nobody could take that away from me, not even you.” Minho pressed their lips together, forever marvelling at how his larger top lip slotted perfectly in harmony with Jisung’s smaller one. He tasted like his cheesecake, and Minho caught a few crumbs off his mouth, humming in amusement at the predicament.
No matter how many times he confirmed it, Jisung’s stomach still swarmed with butterflies every time he heard Minho loved him, and this time was no different. With a quiet, satisfied whimper and a small smile, Jisung managed to speak again, eyes filled with starlight when he looked up.
“I love you, too, hyung.”
Minho knew from the look in his boyfriend's eye that his boyfriend wasn’t telling the whole truth about his feelings. There was a glimmer of secrecy behind his pupils that the time did not call to dissect, but what Minho could do was distract him from the pain he was hiding.
With a slight tilt of the head, Minho let his breath ghost over Jisung’s lips, their mouths barely bumping atoms, the carbon dioxide between them frolicking in the scent of their desire. The elder let out a quiet laugh, the vibration ringing in Jisung’s ears and bouncing around in the place he had reserved for him in his heart.
“Kiss me, Lee,” he whispered.
Minho chuckled again, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. “So demanding, baby.” His right hand grazed the side of his face as he looked into his eyes, cupping his cheek so gently that Jisung got shivers down his spine. “You gonna beg?”
“If you don’t kiss me right now, then I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” Minho teased.
“I’ll just have to do it myself.”
“Bold today, are we, Han?” Minho pressed their foreheads together, falling into Jisung’s eyes again, smiling at the perspective the close contact showed. Caressing his face, Minho closed his eyes and leaned in, giving the younger what he craved.
Their lips met impatiently, Minho’s tongue slipping between the crack of Jisung’s lips almost too soon, making the younger let out a small noise of contentment.
He whispered secrets of love into his mouth, complimenting his pretty neck when he went lower and kissing his forehead when he went higher, and Jisung sat pliantly, letting the worries of his mind slip away with every breath Minho stole.
Every moment stretched, a delicious eternity where nothing else mattered but the connection they shared. He could feel the flutter of his heart, the way their bodies always fit so perfectly together. The world outside faded into a distant murmur, the urgency of reality collapsing into silence as they refuged this familiar intimacy.
Minho was acutely aware of every movement that was reciprocated, each exhale mingling in the air, the electricity between them sparking the hairs on his arms. The rhythmic dance of their lips was nothing short of poetry, sweet like honey and enough to slow time.
As the blur of the outside world finally began to call back, Jisung reluctantly spoke up. “Hyung…hyung we have to go…they’re…mph..calling us…”
Minho let go with an annoyed little “Hm,” his lips swollen and voice hoarse. He stayed close to Jisung, their noses brushing ever so slightly.
“I’ll never stop falling in love with you, you know that? Every time I think I can’t love you more, you prove me wrong.”
Jisung’s brain was silent for once. The intrusive thoughts, the negative feelings, the unhealthy desires, they all seemed to wash away into the whirlpool of Minho. He may never know if he was worth all of this, but Minho was enough to convince him to try to understand it all. It was truly art to be in love with someone who loved you right back.
“Jisung-ah,” Minho coaxed him out of his head. “The makeup team is starting to get frustrated, baby.”
Jisung nodded, letting Minho pull him up out of their seated position, not opening the door without one last peck. It was a little reminder that no matter what Jisung felt tonight, he would come home to safety and endless love.
As they sat, the two were captivated by each other, lost in the love they shared. The makeup artists, with gentle nudges, urged them to face forward, yet their laughter danced in the air, bubbling with delight. Each stolen glance felt electric, the warmth of blushing cheeks painting a glow across their faces. Love wrapped around them like a silken veil, and as the makeup enhanced their features, Jisung found himself falling deeper, enchanted by the beauty that radiated not just from the colours on their skin but from the affection shimmering in their eyes.
The last stroke of eyeshadow was dabbed, and the two headed to the dressing room to change into their first outfit. Slipping into the small room together, they gasped at the new set they had been given. It was a black leather, sleeveless dress with silver and gold accents that danced across its detail. As beautiful as the outfit was, neither one admitted to wanting to change yet, giggling as Jisung was backed into a wall.
It wasn’t long before their lips connected again, more urgent this time, and neither of them could care for the loss of time. Minho’s mouth drifted lower, catching every noise in his heart and channelling it back into the marks he left on Jisung’s chest.
“Hyung, please,” he begged. “Just…hurry. Please…”
That’s all Minho needed.
Jisung let out a noise of surprise as he felt a familiar hand brush his growing bulge, the tent in his pants only making the situation more painful. Minho took it as a sign to continue, slowly contouring the younger’s length, Jisung’s breathy moans filling his mouth.
In one skilled and comforting motion, Minho reached into his boxers, freeing Jisung from the oppressive confines of the clothing. Jisung bit back a cry, battling the surge of sound, praying to erupt from him. It just felt so good.
"Jagi-ya, you can't let them hear you, hm?" Minho's voice, a low, playful tease, as his thumb stroked the swollen head of Jisung’s cock. A pearlescent bead of precum trembled, then dribbled out, a pulsing rhythm matching the twitching skin. Minho hummed, then, with a primal grace, brought his hand to his lips, letting a drop of saliva fall into his palm before resuming his insistent ministrations on his lover.
Jisung’s knees buckled at Minho’s quickening movements, his hand pumping faster than anticipated, and Jisung realised he may be closer to his climax than he originally thought—the sound of wet skin vibrating through Jisung's pleasure.
Catching Minho in a passionate kiss, Jisung began to buck his hips desperately into his hand, his breath becoming more ragged and his eyes twisted shut in concentration.
“Hyung-”
“You can come, baby,” a steady anchor in the swirling storm.
A muffled sob, swallowed by a desperate hand clamped over his mouth, as silken white ropes erupted onto Minho’s skin. Jisung’s climax was a work of art to him, the way his forehead gleamed with sweat, the way his moans fell out of his mouth so easily; he could watch it again and again and never become bored with his beauty.
"There we go, love," Minho cooed, cleaning off his hand with a tissue once Jisung had softened, his body slowly returning to earth. "Now, let's change, hm?"
The crowd was electric from the start, their enthusiasm palpable, which soon began to overwhelm Jisung. His anxiety crept back in, creeping up like a sinister shadow. He missed a note. He fumbled a dance move. And he could feel Minho’s gaze on him, sharp and concerned.
Right before their encore, he confronted him.
“Speak to me, Hannie,” he ordered.
“My cue-”
Minho raised his eyebrow. “Something is wrong, and you’re not telling me. It’s not just your anxiety, baby. I know you and know something’s up. Speak to me.”
“Can we discuss this later?” Jisung’s eyes darted from the stage back to Minho, panic rising. He had time before his cue, but he wasn't ready for this conversation.
“Jisung—”
“Minho.”
“I just want to keep you safe.”
“And I want this concert to go well!” Jisung tried to pull away, desperate to avoid the conversation he dreaded, only to be yanked back.
Minho tightened his grip on Jisung’s arm, turning him around to stand by his side. And then, in a moment that felt both surreal and electric, he kissed him.
Lee Minho kissed him.
In front of sixty thousand people.