life is a mystery. [wordscribble]
Moonlight shivered behind his closed eyes and Minho felt the world's rotation underneath his feet.
His head tipped skyward, balcony railing pressed into his already cold palms, the young man sighed. It was the first time in weeks that he didn't have somewhere to be on, and the first time in months that he actually took notice of the weather outside. The air held the lingering scent of this afternoon's storm, which had now long passed and gave the glittering stars above a chance to shine brightly as they always did against the backdrop of Seoul's cityscape.
It was the first time since they had debuted that Minho felt like he could actually breathe again.
Their busy schedule as of late seemed less of a burden these days, but Minho felt an unconscious strain on his conscience. He probably should have expected it.
Of course, that didn't mean he welcomed it with open arms.
Sometimes he loved being an idol -- the chance to meet people he would have otherwise never crossed paths with was certainly one perk -- and couldn't get enough of the life he had chosen to live. But sometimes, he couldn't help but question himself; couldn't help but question their fans and their company and himself -- whether or not the rush he felt before, during, and after he stepped on and off the stage was really what he was living for.
And sometimes, he wondered what life would have been if he hadn't been a part of SHINee; if he hadn't passed the auditions; if he hadn't chosen to be an idol. Would he still think the same way he did about the entertainment business? Would he have found the need to build a facade for himself, a personality for when he was on-camera to please the rest of the world?
Would happiness -- contentment, self-awareness; that kind of happiness -- still seem so near yet so far out of reach?
The sound of the patio door sliding open shook him from his reverie. Minho slowly turned around just in time to catch the blanket-wrapped form that quite literally tumbled into his side. And smiled.
"What's up?" Minho ruffled the slightly damp strands of honey-brown hair nestled against his shoulder. "Done playing cards with Kibum already?"
"I went to go take a shower," stated Taemin matter-of-factly. "'Sides, now Key-umma went in for a bath, so I've got at least half an hour to plan my next win."
"How many so far?" Minho asked, rubbing a bit at Taemin's still-wet hair with the blanket to keep the magnae from catching a cold.
Taemin grinned. "Three wins, two losses. Jonghyun-hyung says I'm getting better."
"You're getting better at keeping up a poker face," Minho chuckled. "That's all."
Silence persisted for a good minute after this remark, but it was a comfortable one. Minho flinched when cool hands latched onto his, pulling him flush against the younger boy. Under the thick cotton fabric, the cold night breeze didn't even faze him, but he did feel Taemin shaking a bit beside him. A protective arm wrapped around him seemed to do the trick, though, and soon they were comfortably curled up in the blanket, sitting down cross-legged on the balcony floor.
Maybe this was what he had been looking for all along.
"I guess," Taemin piped up, suddenly looking up to Minho's wide-eyed gaze, toes wriggling outside their fabric fortress, "always winning gets a little boring sometimes." The younger boy pressed his nose into Minho's neck, a soft murmur into heated skin: "But I don't mind losing, either. Give 'n take and all that."
Minho laughed -- mirthful half-moons and open-mouthed and pulse skipping a beat with Taemin's light giggling that joined soon after -- and decided this was the only place he would ever happily dream of being.