coincidental | minsung

05

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Jisung almost didn't go back to the dance group.

He didn't need to, not really. Especially not a dance class led by another student. All of his professors, his peers, his social media following - they were made up with nothing but praise for Jisung, and so he could have easily let it slide, convinced himself of his own perfection.

And he was still furious with Minho. Furious with the way he had been picked out of the group, critiqued and criticized almost to the point of self-doubt.

If Jisung had asked Chan or Changbin for their advice, they would've warned him to stay clear. They would've told him the last thing he should do is poke at the sleeping bear, try to irritate Minho, try to play with him.

Good thing Jisung had never asked.

When he breezed into the studio, this time a minute before the start time, he made a conscious effort not to look for Minho. He just threw his stuff into a pile by the far wall, and began stretching lightly.

It would have been easy to find Minho had he been looking. The older boy was stood up by the front of the room, and was yet to notice Jisung's arrival. When Jisung glanced up, he saw Minho was talking to- what?

Hyunjin.

Jisung had only met Hyunjin a handful of times, the tall blonde closer friends with Changbin than himself. Jisung cursed himself for not connecting the dots quicker. He knew Hyunjin was a dancer, and knew Chan had said he lived with Minho. It only made sense for him to be here.

It might make Jisung's plan harder, but not impossible. So he got to work.

"Minho?" Jisung called out. He put every effort of his being into projecting his voice, lacing it with self-belief, pulling the vowels up at the end in a question.

Minho turned to look at him. His eyes betrayed nothing; they remained dark, somewhat narrow, jaw neither tense nor slack. One eyebrow cocked slightly as he angled himself towards Jisung, but didn't move closer.

"Can you help me?" Jisung pouted, fluttering boba eyes at Minho.

Minho's face didn't change, but he did move closer.

"You came back." It was a statement that almost- almost- knocked Jisung.

"You didn't want me to?" Jisung's petulant voice went with the sarcastic tilt of his head and widening of his eyes.

Minho regarded him levelly. He seemed to resist giving any reaction at all to Jisung, a parent trying to avoid giving attention to a child.

The lingering silence prompted Jisung to sigh dramatically and continue talking.

"I wondered if you could help me with this stretch," Jisung asked.

Minho's gaze stayed cool, collected. A small nod of his head made Jisung smile and begin to move.

Jisung started by bending over, leaning down onto all fours so his hands and knees were equal distant apart. Even unintentionally, his back dipped down in an arch, prompting his hips to raise up slightly.

Minho just quirked an eyebrow.

"I've been trying to get lower to the floor, but something seems to be resisting me," Jisung murmured.

As he spoke, he had slid forward until his elbows and wrists rested on the floor, copying a half downward dog he'd seen in yoga videos. His upper body seemed to be made of water as it sunk fluidly to the floor. His back fell lower, still arched, and his hips lifted even further. His chest was almost flush to the floor.