LOSE MY BREATH

LMB 16

16: Calmness.

This time it was Jisung who avoided going back to their usual place for a while. He felt unsteady after the talk, as if he did not know which side of the fence to stand on.

He was not particularly bothered that Minho was upset with him for kissing people. It was a predictable reaction from a fuddy-duddy like that. But he hadn’t thought that Minho was ... someone who had a person in his heart, a crush or a lover?

Who could it possibly be? Jisung had already spent several months here. He had never seen Minho speak to anyone other than his brother and uncle for more than two sentences. Was it someone from the women's side and Minho did not see her?

Jisung became upset at the thought. Of course, Minho would have a tragic romance with some gorgeous, ethereal jade woman. Someone who had never even looked at a man who was not Minho, who never ran in the Geumgangsan, and who always enjoyed the boring food.

Jisung could not find fault with that. Who would want to look at anyone else if Minho was around? And who had time to look at people when it was so much fun to think about Minho?

If he had expressed such stupid thoughts in front of Yeji, she would have probably smacked him. She always believed that he was being alarmingly indifferent, or overly dramatic like Hyunjin, and never anything in between.

Suddenly, he wondered if she along with Hyunjin had reported him missing to the police station. It was likely that they had, and the idea burned like acid, filling his head with fumes.

How was it that whenever he was left alone with no distractions, he would become depressed again? The worst part was that it was exactly the same as back home. At least here, he would have so much to experience that there was rarely time for it.

Letting out a breath, he decided to make it up to the Hwang siblings once he came back. Buy them something, tell them everything, and then try to persuade them not to commit him to a mental asylum. All the fun stuff.

They would pat Jisung’s head when he would spill them about Minho and his perfect Lee girlfriend, and they’d look at Jisung with knowing eyes but would be kind enough to not mention it.

By dinnertime, he had collected his thoughts and made his way to the residence. The doors were wide open, which was unusual. Food was spread out on the table. Minho sat there with all of his grace, long lashes casting shadows on his high cheekbones.

Every time he saw the guy, it seemed more absurd that he existed at all. With flawless posture and glowing white robes, his hair cascaded down his back like a waterfall of black silk. Jisung, his wavy hair tangled and barely up with the red ribbon, dirt on his face and clothes, was unable to compare.

“Minho…” he said softly, but the voice carried in the silence. Golden eyes met him and Minho did not seem surprised; he had probably heard him approaching.

“Jisung,” Minho said. “Where have you been?”

He waved a hand in a loose circle. “Here and there. Listen, I am deeply sorry for last night. I was very careless. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.

Minho, looking surprised, shook his head.

“No Jisung, it is I, who should apologise,” he said, then dropped his gaze. “My reaction was unwarranted and insulting. I do not think...less of you, for your past experiences.”

He had not expected that. He took a few hesitant steps and settled next to Minho by the table, suddenly feeling shy for no apparent reason.

“Aish Minho, it’s fine! I understand that you have a different perspective on this. It has a strong cultural bent.

“Nonetheless, my conduct was poor and you deserve an apology.” Minho insisted.

“Then you deserve one too! It’s either both or nothing.” Jisung stated.

It appeared that neither of them was particularly gracious when it came to being apologised to. However, it was evident to them both that the extended period of quietness during the previous day had become too much. They stared at each other unwaveringly until Minho let out an amused huff.

“Then, there is no need for apologies between us,” he said. Jisung grinned at him, eliciting a soft expression from Minho. 

“Ah, Minho, that sounds like the smartest thing either of us has said in a while!”

“Mn.” Minho turned to the food then, pushing a bowl towards him. “Now, eat.”

The food had a red tint to it, indicating the presence of spices not found in their normal cuisine. Jisung felt a twist behind his ribs, a fondness for Minho for thinking of him in this way, which was quickly replaced by envy.

Jisung considered asking about Minho's alleged lover for a split second. Her identity. Whether she, too, would have preferred spices in her congee. However, the peace was still tentative, and the food looked delicious.

Thus, Jisung proceeded to eat, silently.

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Raktbeej congratulations to my kiddo who scored colourful marks in Indian board(?) exam!