(no subject)
Title: Lean on the rhythm, with my song for you
Pairing: Kaisoo
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Length: 1.5k
Summary: Jongin thinks that you can fall easily into a rhythm if you know it well enough like the back of your hand and it's not long before he dances to the rhythm of falling and being in love.
a/n: Title is from SHINee's song "A-Yo." Wrote this last summer during the wee hours of the morning before I passed out. Please excuse the lack of quality, it's a 2 a.m baby. Also, this is nothing but shameless fluff.
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Mid-Februaury in Seoul is cold and biting, people bundled up in layers, their bodies seeking warmth from the coffee mugs nestled between their hands and the scarves woven around their necks. The air is nippy and foggy breaths litter the atmosphere like smoke trails and if you squint hard enough, like gray fluttering butterflies flitting around and disappearing, replaced by other rounds of puffs coming from the artists' mouths, painting the air with escaped sighs and melancholic exhales, lungs giving way to breathe in oxygen.
Jongin doesn't feel the cold though. Jongin rarely feels the cold. The heat in his body as he dances to the thumping of the beats coming from the speakers is enough to ward off the cold he should be feeling in the studio. He pops and locks and does graceful turns and finishes off with a final thrust, beads of sweat trickling from his forehead down to the bridge of his nose, and he's panting and out of breath but his heart is full and he feels like soaring, his feet as light as air and the exhiliration still tingling on the tips of his fingers.
It's well past midnight and Jongin's not supposed to be here, but he knows Yunho-hyung will just reprimand him the following morning and tell him to get some much-needed rest after their daily practices. Dance practice ends at 8 pm sharp but after a quick dinner at some cheap nearby restaurant, Jongin goes back to the studio alone and dances until the music practically courses through his veins and his vision gets hazy as his bones beg for him to stop and he collapses on the cool floor of the dim-lighted studio, counting his intakes of breaths and drawing lazy patterns in the air with nimble fingers. He can feel exhaustion creeping up from his legs and he curls his toes inwardly, crackling his knuckles before continuing with using the air as his canvas, random shapes and curves and lines being absentmindedly drawn. Sometimes he writes things and sometimes he writes a name. Only one name.
Kyungsoo.
Dance may have been a part of his life for a long time, but Kyungsoo is his life right now. Dance may serve as some sort of escape from the daily mundane events of his everyday life, but Kyungsoo is more than just an escape, he's like a one-way ticket to happiness.
Kyungsoo is far from mundane, far from ordinary and Jongin's life used to be a black and white canvas with ocassional splashes of color in the form of dance, but ever since Kyungsoo entered his life, there are now bright hues of the most brilliant shades and vibrant streaks enough to set Jongin's heart on fire and make his soul sing. Dance used to fill the gaps in his heart, but right now, there aren't even any gaps or potholes or cracks in the pavement to fill up and all because of a certain doe-eyed young man who spilled sunshine onto his life and explored all the nooks and crannies that Jongin didn't even dare set foot into.
Jongin smiles, thinking of Kyungsoo, and he gets up from the floor, his shirt sticking to his back from the damp sweat, and he suddenly feels a rush of guilt churning in his stomach, knowing that there's someone back home waiting for him, waiting for Jongin's goodnight kisses, waiting for Jongin's protective arms to slither possessively around his waist, waiting for Jongin's heartbeats to lull him to sleep as they cuddle under crumpled bedsheets and the only thing Jongin can smell is Kyungsoo's minty shampoo.
It's a rhythm they easily fell into ever since shy confessions were stuttered from each other's lips and questions of how long? since when? did you know? died before they could be uttered as they met halfway and even though the first kiss had been awkward (too much teeth and they couldn't stop smiling), the next ones had been able to make up for it.
It's a rhythm they fell easily into when they went on little dates in coffee shops, strolls around the park, deciding over which movie to watch but not really paying attention to the big screen as they tried to steal kisses in the dark, marathons of Pororo in Kyungsoo's apartment with a bowl of popcorn they took turns feeding to each other, and Jongin staying over for the night until it eventaully became a permanent thing and Kyungsoo's closet was now also Jongin's closet and Kyungsoo started grocery shopping for two. It's a rhythm they fell easily into.
Rhythm. Jongin thinks that you can fall easily into a rhythm if you know it well enough like the back of your hand.
It was so easy to fall into the rhythm of Kyungsoo's mismatched steps, even easier to fall into the rhythm of Kyungsoo's melodious laugh. It was so easy to fall into the rhythm of Kyungsoo's heartbeats and it was so easy to fall into the rhythm of Kyungsoo's hitched breathing as Jongin peppered kisses from his face, down to the nape of his neck, and turning around to press one on a collarbone before they lost themselves in lust and love and each other and clothes were strewn to the floor.
It had been so easy that Jongin felt like it was the most natural thing in the world, falling into the rhythm of falling in love with a certain raven-haired, wide-eyed man who only let Jongin hear him sing as they laid together in bed, Jongin tracing patterns across Kyungsoo's pale milky white skin as the older boy sang him to sleep, the younger one thinking what a shame it was that Kyungsoo kept his voice a secret from everyone else because if there was one thing Jongin was utterly sure he could dance to for eternity, it would be Kyungsoo's voice.
Jongin walks back to their shared apartment with only a hoodie to protect him from the cold February air, selfishly hoping that Kyungsoo's still awake even though he knows the other man needs to rest as well. Kyungsoo understands enough that Jongin likes spending time alone at the dance studio, but there would always be a flicker of sadness and concern in his eyes whenever Jongin stumbles inside their apartment during ungodly hours, looking tired and worn out, but he never protests. He knows how much dancing means to Jongin.
Most nights Kyungsoo would just bite his lips to refrain them from speaking things he might regret and just proceeds to towel-dry Jongin's fresh-from-the-shower hair but during nights he feels a little bit daring or when work was a little too much for him to take and his feathers are ruffled, he'd tell Jongin to stop putting so much hours into practicing and actually come home for dinner. Sometimes Jongin listens and obeys Kyungsoo's words because he can see the longing in the older man's eyes, but sometimes he doesn't. During nights spent alone eating dinner in front of the television, Kyungsoo can only sigh and think, "Well, at least I have him all to myself during the weekends."
Kyungsoo knew beforehand what he was getting himself into, when he fell in love with the dancer that never quit, so he too fell easily into the rhythm of yearning for the comfort of Jongin's warmth when the food on his plate got cold from getting lost in his own thoughts.
Jongin inserts his key into the lock but before he can turn it and let himself in, the door springs open and there's Kyungsoo standing in the doorway, a yawn escaping from his pink lips, and Jongin gulps because Kyungsoo is wearing his shirt, Jongin's shirt, and Jongin always gets turned on whenever Kyungsoo wears something of his. Kyungsoo smiles up at him even though his eyes are drooping, clearly he got sleepy waiting for Jongin to come home, and Jongin can do nothing but smile back and wrap his arms around the smaller man's waist, breathing in the minty shampoo that is so undeniably Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo snuggles into his embrace but pushes away after half a second, making a face. "Shower first before hugs, you smell gross."
Jongin laughs but he follows Kyungsoo's request and ten minutes later, Kyungsoo is drying Jongin's hair with a towel, humming a soft tune and Jongin can only lean in and place his head on Kyungsoo's shoulder with a weak protest of "Hey, your hair's still wet" coming from the older but Kyungsoo doesn't say anything after that, just basks in the comfortable silence the both of them are sharing.
Jongin can feel Kyungsoo's heartbeat against his and Jongin knows that this is enough, that Kyungsoo has always been enough, and sometimes, Jongin feels that he doesn't really need music to dance, because Jongin knows that he could dance to the rhythm of being in love with Kyungsoo.
Some people leave a lot to be desired and Kyungsoo is not one of those people, Jongin thinks as they lay down together, cocooned in bedsheets and each other's warmth. Kyungsoo snuggles in into his chest and Jongin smiles, wrapping his hands around the smaller man's waist and Kyungsoo's steady breathing lulls him to sleep.
There are rhythms that are hard to fall into but, Jongin think as his eyelids flutter close, falling in love is not one of them.
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