Clashing Chords | MinSung

10. Syncopation

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹

The next day rolls around, bringing along a tedious dance practice. Jisung had taken some painkillers to soothe the insistent ache in his body, but the slight limp was visible with each step.

His hand ghosts over the door knob, the same one that he had no problem twisting at midnight. Flashes of memories flood his mind, not that they ever left. He exhales sharply before entering.

Minho's gaze instantly settles on his frame, perforating, heavy. Jisung tries to hide the quiver of his hand when he settles his duffel bag in its usual spot.

The tension could be cut with a knife, so dense it is and replete with the aftermath relish of their adventure. Tonight's actions weigh down on both men, tormenting their minds with questions about the unforeseen future.

"How are you feeling?" Minho's voice takes Jisung by surprise as he realizes the elder walked up to him.

"Good. I'm good."

"Good."

Jisung hums, pursing his lips in an awkward smile. Minho's expression is as blank as always, except for the enigmatic glow spreading over his face.

"Should I teach you 'Taste' choreo?"

The question is a subtle hint at Minho's wish to include his song in their shared album. Jisung's eyes widen.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Minho breathes out, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Jisung only nods, stretching his arms above his head.

The popstar's gaze lingers on Jisung's body, but it feels different this time. It conveys something more profound than before, something keen.

It takes quite some time for Jisung to get the steps right, as the choreography is more intricate than it initially looks. There are lots of details embedded into it and even more sharp, certain body part isolations.

He's lucky that Minho's patience stretches boundlessly today. He explained the same move over ten times without rolling his eyes or sighing exasperatedly - as he usually does. His tone is soft, airy, and it offers a sense of reassurance to Jisung, who is struggling because of his aching lower body.

Perhaps that's the reason behind Minho's tolerance.

Jisung kneels, rolling until he's facing the front, arm above his knee. Minho shakes his head, dissatisfied.

"I can't get it right!" Jisung complains.

"It's because you're too tense. This is also the first time you learn the choreo; try not to focus on the details. Let the rhythm of music guide you."

Jisung isn't entirely sure about what Minho meant, but he lets the tension release from his rigid limbs. When the melody starts playing again, Jisung messes up once more. He lies on the floor, discontented.

"Dance for me." Minho asks blatantly. "You're messing up because you're too focused on watching yourself in the mirror. Your confidence falters whenever you don't get a step perfectly. But dancing isn't about perfection. It's about...emotion." Minho rambles while crouching beside Jisung. He nudges the rockstar's arm. "So, dance for me."

There is a glint in Minho's eyes, almost pleading, or perhaps it's just Jisung's mind playing tricks on him; either way, he stands up with a wave of motivation coursing through his veins.

Minho stands before him, blocking his view of the mirror. The irony.

Jisung closes his eyes, sighing. It makes him feel like he's part of a cringy musical type of movie.

The sensual rhythm plays yet again, and he focuses on it, letting his body loose. When he opens his eyes, they instantly lock with Minho's insistent ones.

Jisung sees Minho's silhouette from last night in the back of his mind, rolling his hips so exquisitely, body hitting every beat.

Then his limbs move on their own as flashes of choreography dance behind his eyelids. Jisung's body is sailing on a wild sea, and he suddenly understands Minho's words: let the music guide you.

With a fugitive look, he checks the elder's reaction. His glare is shrill, posture stern. Jisung descends on his knees in one smooth movement, getting into position. They lock eyes.

His heart beats feral against his ribs when his hips elevate, thrusting upwards. His shirt slides up, revealing the band of his boxers poking from under his gray sweats. Jisung catches Minho's gaze flicking down, and his feet almost buckle under him. He manages to finish the choreography sequence of the refrain, breathless but proud of himself.

"So, how did I do?" He asks, reaching for a water bottle and chugging its contents down in one go. Minho's reply, though, refuses to come. He's only staring at Jisung, teeth sunken into his lower lip. Jisung's lip twitches when he notices the rosy tint dispersing over Minho's cheeks. "Minho?"

He flinches, blinking fast like a lost kitten, and Jisung finds himself chuckling at the duality of the elder.

"Sorry, I zoned out."

"I asked how I did?"

Jisung repeats the question, stepping closer, the distance shrinking between the pair. Minho's blush ripens, spreading over the tips of his ears.

"Good! You did good! Really good." He stammers, avoiding Jisung's gaze at all costs. His gaze accidentally falls on the gray pants, and his mind wanders. Jisung is quite amused, even a tad confused, when Minho snaps his head away, searching to look at anything except Jisung. The floor can't be more interesting than Jisung's face, now can it? Minho surely makes it seem like it totally can.

"Thanks." At that, Minho only nods, uttering something about the dance practice being over for the day.

A paradoxical mix of relief and anxiety washes over Jisung; relief because he can finally rest his aching muscles, anxiety because he still needs to address a topic that burdens his mind.

He's not sure how to approach Minho about it. He could bring it up casually, but when was it ever casual between them? He could just ask Minho blatantly: 'What are we?' - but he's not sure his heart could take the blow if Minho threw one. He could also avoid it altogether, but that would eat him up whole, bite and swallow his nerves slowly but surely, until he'd be a complete emotional mess.

"Minho?" He calls the elder's name after an impulsive thought crossed his mind. For a second, he thinks Minho didn't hear him, but then he turns with a questioning quirk of brow.

"Huh?"

It's now or never.

"About last night..." He trails off, voice faltering. Air seems to be stuck in his lungs, which start to ache with a burning sensation. Jisung fiddles with his fingers.

"We shouldn't talk about it now." The words feel like a jab to his heart, aiming for his weak point. The disappointment can most probably be read on his face because Minho reaches forward, sliding his fingers into Jisung's hand. "Our comeback is in about two weeks; we have to focus on that now."

The explanation isn't alleviating, but Jisung settles on: "You're right.", before turning to leave. Once again, he feels like he can't stand in this cursed practice room, especially not in Minho's presence. They could've at least talked it out to settle the waters. But no, Minho is stubborn like that. Jisung can't lie; it hurts. It hurts because he let himself get led on by...Minho. The man that he supposedly hates. The man that he turned into an enemy just to be able to suppress his attraction towards him. The man who hates him.

"Jisung?" Minho's tone is faint, almost flying past Jisung's ears. The rockstar spins his head just enough to signal that he's listening. His knuckles turn white around the doorknob. "Don't overthink it."

And as much as Jisung tries to follow that advice, he fails miserably. That sentence is like a two-faced blade, sharp on both edges. Is that Minho's way of saying: 'Don't fall for me, you were just a fling.' or is it a promise, a foreshadowing of an upcoming conversation?

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹