Falling Lessons

by Inay_Aswang

Summary:

“My dad detests modern dance. He got pissed when I got passed over for Principal Dancer this season. Now he’s pushing for me to take a position at Paris Opera Ballet.”

“Oh wow, Paris. How… prestigious. But I’m sure he’ll be proud of your new show. I mean there were some freaky parts, but overall…” Jisung struggles when he catches Minho smiling.

“You should tell him that glowing review. He is your boss, after all.”

***

Minho is a Ballet Dancer who wants the freedom to dance what he chooses.

Jisung is an up and coming surgeon who needs to figure things out.

They like each other and go on hotdog not dates. But is it enough to let themselves fall?

Notes:

Check out the event Twitter!

 

Written for MINSUNG FICATHON, for PROMPT A030- Saving Face AU

 

 

 

“You look ridiculously chipper today, lover.” Seungmin deadpans. He stretches deep into the splits as Minho bursts through the dance studio doors. Jeongin looks at Minho with wide eyes. “I don’t know how to read your energy right now.”

“I met a boy. A cute boy. I bought him dinner and by dinner, I mean I bought him candy from the machine. And then I judged his choices. I made him get the one with nuts. We almost had dinner together, if you count that we almost ate the candy together before he went back to work.” Minho is doing laps around the space to loosen up his muscles and burn nervous energy. He’s practically sprinting.

“I take it you had a good visit with your dad?” Jeongin grabs Seungmin’s forearm and they stretch into a deep squat.

“Oh god no. Chief of Surgery Dr. Lee grilled me about if I heard back from Paris Opera and if I was done playing around with Modern. He also apologized in advance about not being able to come see the show because he got scheduled back to back surgeries and is overseeing the new genius surgeon, Han Jisung. I mean what did I expect really, the man didn’t care enough to maintain his marriage, why would he care about maintaining his relationship with me? And blah blah blah, whatever, whatever, whatever- BUT. Guess who the new genius surgeon is. Guess, guess!”

“Is he the cute boy with the nuts?” Jeongin says lifelessly.

“Han Jisung is the cute boy I almost had not dinner with. He’s also the same cute boy that I saw at Planet Seoul last weekend. Felix knows him. He’s just so-” and Minho stops running and makes claws with his hands and shakes, while his face scrunches and he bares his teeth. “I swear to god when I saw him hunched over the machine, he looked just like a squirrel. I wanna bite his cheeks.”

“Planet Seoul?” Jeongin looks confused.

“Yeah, that restaurant- club place my mom goes to. Where all the ajummas try to marry off their kids. You guys should come next time. It’s a minefield.”

“So, are you gonna ask Nut Boy out for coffee or anything?” Seungmin is rolling around the floor as Jeongin is leaning on the wall.

“He’s a surgeon.” Minho almost looks offended.

“Yes, and you’ve been going on about how cute he is and how you almost had not dinner together, so once again I ask. Are you gonna ask Nut Boy out or what?” Seungmin sits up from the floor.

“That’s way too close to dating my dad.”

“Oh please, who in this world doesn’t have daddy issues. Buy him a nut not dinner again and ask him to go to the show next week. Reserve him a seat in the front row.”

“Oh god, I can’t do that, what if he like, hates dance or whatever. I don’t want to scare him off with my weirdness.”

“Well if he doesn’t like dance, he’s obviously not for you. And who's to say he won’t like weird?”  Seungmin gestures in circles about Minho.

“I dunno, what if he’s… just so normal?”

“Yeah, but you like normal.”

“Ask him, ask him, ask him!” Jeongin pounds on the wall.

“Fuck it. Imma ask him out.” Minho punches the air.

“Wow. Great. Awesome. Now are we gonna rehearse or are you gonna jack off to Nut Boy this whole time?”

-

Minho has pre show jitters. Mostly. He’s also nervous about Jisung. What if he doesn’t show up? What if he does? It was risky to tape a letter with cash to the vending machine asking Jisung out. Did he get it? He should have put his number on the letter, but the possibility of some random person intercepting the letter. Whatever. He needed to clear his head. Hyunjin and Changbin, Minho’s ballet buddies, ran backstage to wish merde to, what they called, the Modern crew. Chan, his boss from Arts Alliance, popped in and offered a quick wave. His mom, his Eomma, showed up accompanied by his cousin Felix. The place was nearly packed. Sure it was a small venue, but it felt nice to have almost every seat filled.

Once everyone took their place in the wings and the music started the nervousness melted away. With every swell of the notes, with every stretch of Minho’s body, everything fell into place. The dancers rolled on the floor, extending limbs into sharp angles. They leapt into the air and traveled across the space in twists and turns. Jeongin lifted Seungmin to stand on his thighs as he sat against the wall. Minho turned a stool over and balanced on the end of the legs on his toes and fingertips. They ran into the crowd climbing the backs of chairs. It was raw, it was weird. It was perfect.

After the show when the audience left and Minho and his friends were having a smoke by the stage door, Chan turned to him and said, “So that guy by the street has been staring over here for like the last ten minutes.”

Minho risks a sneaky glance and Jisung is there, hunched and waiting with a small arrangement of flowers. He’s shifting from foot to foot, as if debating walking over.

“Oh my god-” Seungmin exhaled smoke.

“No way, is that Nut Boy!?” Jeongmin almost screeches.

“What the fuck is a nut boy? Hyunjin asks as he takes a very obvious look at Jisung.

“Holy shit! Hyung- is that Jisung?” Felix grins at Minho.

“Who is Jisung?” Chan asks.

“He’s Nut Boy.” Jeongin claps his hands in excited little golf claps.

“Literally tells us nothing,” Changbin almost yells.

“He shows up at Planet Seoul every so often-” Felix offers as Seungmin starts. “He’s a surgeon at the hospital.”

“Minho has the biggest cuteness aggression boner for him.” Jeongin teases.

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up. Go away now. All of you.” Minho waves his arms at them, threatening them with the dying embers of his cashed cigarette. “Go on now, git!”

“Come on, I’m hungry. Let’s get Grays, we’ll tell you all about Nut Boy!” Jeongin bounces ahead.

“Aww hell yeah, I wanna double fist some glizzies!” Changbin laughs into the night.

“Never say any combination of those words again.” Seungmin isn’t fast enough to dodge Changbin putting him in a headlock.

Minho smirks as Jisung walks towards him. “So, Doctor Han. Where to now?”

“How about we walk and see where the night takes us?” Jisung is all nervous gestures and awkward footing. Minho wants to reach out and hold his hand, but he’s walking just out of reach.

They end up at a denim outlet, randomly touching items of clothing. Jisung keeps staring at him through the stacks.

“My dad used to come here a lot before he got sick. It was one of his favorite places to take me.” Jisung keeps fingering a pocket on a pair of jeans.

“Mine too. Oh these are the kinds he wears.” Minho points to the corner.

“You never said what he does.”

“Ah, well. Depends. When he’s not judging me for my artist choices, he does an amazing job failing me.”

“Oh, uh, he’s not a fan of your new show?”

“He detests modern dance. He got pissed when I got passed over for Principal Dancer this season. Now he’s pushing for me to take a position at Paris Opera Ballet.”

“Oh wow, Paris. How… prestigious. But I’m sure he’ll be proud of your new show. I mean there were some freaky parts, but overall…” Jisung struggles when he catches Minho smiling.

“You should tell him that glowing review. He is your boss, afterall.” Minho can’t help but laugh at the high pitched squeak that escapes Jisung. “It’s fine. His head is too far up his ass to notice anything about me and my life that isn’t ballet.”

“Wait so then, why haven’t I seen you before? At the hospital or Planet Seoul?”

“Oh, we’ve met before. At the church. You were eight and I was nine. You came to my rescue.” Minho crouches near where Jisung is looking at vests.

“Wait! You were the one getting picked on by the Choi twins, it was right after your parents’ divorce.”

“Yeah, and you came over and beat the crap out of them.” Minho leans in.

“And then you kissed me on the cheek-” Jisung looks at Minho in awe, as he cups his own cheek.

“And then you ran away.” Minho looks at Jisung’s lips and leans in a little closer.

“SNACKS!” Jisung stands abruptly.

“What?” Minho looks up at him.

“I’m, I mean. I’m a little hungry. So you want to get a snack?”

Minho stands, still close to Jisung.

“I have rice crackers and tea at my place.”

“Yeah, yeah. Crackers. Sounds good.”

“Okay, my place it is.”

-

Jisung looks uncomfortable in Minho’s studio apartment. He hasn’t left the couch as Minho puts some crackers down on a tray.

“Here,” Minho pulls Jisung towards the balcony. “My view.” He pulls Jisung in a little closer.

“What do you do when you’re not dancing?” Jisung dodges.

“Teach kids how to dance through the Arts Alliance. Ballet Outreach. Right now, we’re learning how to fall without getting hurt. Here I’ll show you.” And Minho falls gracefully to the ground. He looks up at Jisung. “Now you try.”

Jisung just stands there.

“I’ll count you down. 3. 2. 1. Fall.”

Nothing.

“Really, it’s easy. When I say fall, you just let go. Fall… Fall… Come on now, FALL!”

Jisung is a statue. 

“Sorry, I can’t do this.” 

Minho gets up and takes Jisung’s hands, pulling him in closer. Just as he’s about to meet his lips, Jisung crumples to the ground.

“Yup, just like that.” Minho closes his eyes and turns his face to the ceiling. He crumples down next to Jisung.

“Ow.” Jisung says as Minho faces him on the floor.

“You okay?” Minho puts his thumb on Jisung’s bottom lip.

This time, it’s Jisung who leans in. He is slow, hesitant. By the time his lips touch Minho’s, he’s already asking for permission. Minho opens his mouth, letting Jisung decide what to do next. When Jisung tentatively licks into his mouth, Minho is fast to reciprocate. As the kiss grows, Jisung gently rolls forward, as Minho leans back. Jisung holds himself up by placing his hands on both sides of Minho’s head. Minho’s hands finds Jisung’s hips and gently maneuvers them over his, making Jisung put a leg between his own. He pulls down slightly, letting Jisung know it’s okay. Jisung takes a shaky breath as he allows himself to lie on top of Minho. Minho can feel his restraint and pulls Jisung in closer. Just let go. Fall.

It’s too slow for Minho’s liking, but he doesn’t want to push. He breaks the kiss.

“Hey, you okay? We can stop.”

“What? No, no. I’m, it’s just, I’m okay really. Just. Just give me a moment?”

“Yeah of course.” Minho drops his arms to his side.

“Wait, why’d you let go?” Jisung looks down at him.

“In case you wanted to get up. Should I put them back?”

“Yes?”

“Why was that a question?” Minho laughs.

“Oh god I’m so bad at this.” Jisung groans and drops his face into Minho’s neck.

“Um okay- I’m going to ask you a question and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Jisung nods.

“Am I the first guy you’ve kissed?”

“I mean I haven’t kissed a lot of guys, but I haven’t, not kissed guys.” Jisung is still hiding in Minho’s neck. “Oh god no! Wait- oh no am I giving off virgin vibes?” He buries himself more into Minho. "I'm not I swear, I've been with- I'm making this worse." Minho is damn near in tears as he puts his arms back around Jisung’s waist.

“It's just that you’re really… careful? I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

“No, I do! I really, really, really do. Oh god that sounded desperate. This is so embarrassing. Can we, like, just start over?”

“A redo? Sure, I’ll allow it.”

“Great. Is it cool if we get off the floor?”

“You have to get off me first.”

Jisung gets up and pulls Minho to his feet.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m Han Jisung.” He puts his hand out for a shake. Minho giggles and takes his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jisung. I’m Lee Minho.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Please do.”

This kiss isn’t hesitant or careful. Jisung guides them to the bed, and even though he stumbles a bit, he easily falls on top of Minho. He’s pulled most of Minho’s clothes off and is unbuttoning his own shirt, when he asks, “Where do you keep your stuff?”

“Second drawer,” Minho says into his mouth as he tries to pry off Jisung’s pants. “In the Ballerina music box.” Jisung stops.

“Okay, wait. I have questions.” But Minho pulls him back into a kiss.

“No. No questions. Stop talking.” And he does.

The rest of the night is whispers on skin and lips and hands searching for purpose. Their bodies learn this new dance together, navigating around each other in a timed rhythm. They are quick to learn what every sound means. A gasp- yes, a sigh- keep going, a moan- there, there, right there. Their dance ends when backs arch and hips give their final roll, mouths press together to swallow all the sound in the room.

After Jisung cleans them up, they lie in each other's arms. Their fingertips tracing the lines of each other's bodies. Minho falls asleep on Jisung’s chest, the steady rhythm of Jisung’s heartbeat, his lullaby. In the morning, he wakes up alone to the noises of the city, his alarm clock.

 

They begin to fall into a routine. Coffee and hot dog breakfasts at the waterfront before Jisung’s shift. After Jisung’s shift, they wander the streets. In those in-between moments Minho learns Jisung’s widowed middle aged mother is pregnant and won’t reveal the father’s identity. She’s moved in with Jisung and that’s why he has to rush home in the middle of the night after falling into Minho’s bed. On Jisung’s days off they hole up in Minho’s apartment. Order take out and watch movies or listen to old records. That is if Jisung’s pager isn’t going off for him to rush to the hospital. These in-between moments aren’t enough for Minho. They don’t go anywhere, they don’t do things outside the confines of Minho’s four walls. Minho hasn’t met Jisung’s mom, and Jisung hasn’t met Minho’s people. Minho’s tired of being in a not relationship.

 

“He’s coming to your birthday party though, right? We’re finally gonna meet him?” Eomma asks over the phone.

“He promised he’d be there, but so did appa so you know, place your bets.”

“Agi, you can’t think that way. He’ll be there.”

 

Jisung, in fact, was not there. The music was upbeat, the food was phenomenal, everyone was dressed to the nines and Jisung was nowhere to be seen. After the third voice message he left saying he had another emergency surgery, Minho stopped checking his phone. When the door opened to reveal a gaudy flower arrangement delivery identical to the one he received from his dad hours ago, he excused himself to the bathroom, and shut his eyes tight. When Eomma knocked on the door, he let her in and let her hold him as he held in his tears.

The party continued until everyone elected to go to a bar, but Minho was too tired to follow. They all wished him a happy birthday and made their way into the night. Minho slowly began to clean up, though it was more of shoving things into piles for him to deal with in the morning. He sat down on the couch and stared at the ceiling until he heard a knock at the door. He sighed and contemplated not answering.

Jisung is standing in the hallway, looking small and pitiful and apologetic.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know.” Minho leans his forehead on the door.

“Okay.” Jisung turns to leave.

“Wait really? You’re leaving?” Minho steps out into the hallway.

“You said I couldn’t come in…” Jisung looks so lost.

“But I didn’t tell you to leave, either… You know what- nevermind.”

“Look, I don’t know what I’m doing here…”

“That makes two of us.” Minho just feels so tired.

“It’s just work was so-” Jisung stops and stares inside the apartment. Minho follows his line of sight to the identical flower arrangements.

“Ah, so the one on the right is from my dad. That one arrived before the party. Yours is the one on the left, that one came in the middle of the party.”

“I’m an asshole.”

“Hm.”

“What if I stay the whole night?”

“Can we grab breakfast together in the morning?” Minho is already pulling him inside.

“All the hot dogs you can eat.” Jisung is close, so close and rubs his nose on Minho’s cheek. “Happy birthday,” he whispers, before falling onto Minho’s lips.

In the morning, it’s Jisung’s hands and mouth that wake Minho up. They get their breakfast hotdogs, but when Minho tries to hold Jisung’s hand on the walk back to the subway together, he shoves them in his pocket. At the turnstiles, Minho goes in for a hug, and Jisung just gives a quick one handed pat on the back. He disappears into the morning crowd.

So they fall into their old routine.

-

“You don’t understand,” Minho laments weeks later to his crew over mimosas and cold stale pizza at his mom’s house. “The dinner meeting his mom was awful. She was doing this weird power play, where she didn’t acknowledge her pregnancy and kept trying to one up me. On top of her denial about every aspect of her life, and Jisung’s being so deep in the closet he’s in Narnia, I had to go and pretend that I was his friend and be a good little Korean boy. She asked me about my girlfriend.”

“You are a good little Korean boy, agi!” Eomma reached over and kissed Minho’s forehead.

“Aww thanks, eomma!”

“Yeah, but the sex is good right?” Hyunjin slurs his words a bit.

“Seriously? His mom is right there!” Chan slaps at Hyunijn’s knees.

“Whatever, she gets it, right eomma? You gets it?” Hyunjin points his glass at her and she points right back with hers. “Yeah, you do!” He downs the rest of his mimosa.

“Ugh, whatever, I’m just tired of being a secret.”

“Yeah, but you can’t force him to come out, you know that right? Not everyone can afford to reveal themselves. Especially in our community.” Felix says as he bites into a pizza slice.

“I know, but one time, ONE TIME, I’d like him to take me to a restaurant. Just once.”

“Well, what’s your dad think about all of this?” Seungmin refills his glass with just champagne.

“He doesn’t know.” Now it’s Minho’s turn to get a pointed look from Chan. “Jisung didn’t think it was a good idea to tell him. The chief surgeon’s son sleeping with the up and coming resident surgeon. Think of the children.” Minho scoffs.

“But you two are the children.” Jeongin says before he shoves a whole piece of pizza into his mouth.

“That’s terrifying, you’re terrifying when you do that, you know?” Changbin tries to eat a whole slice of pizza at once and immediately chokes.

“I’m literally just eating?” Jeongin says with his mouth full.

-

More weeks of the in between and Minho hears back from Paris. They’re offering him the principal role, danseur étoile. He has two weeks to decide.

His father is ecstatic. Eomma is only happy if Minho is happy. His friends congratulate him. It’s an amazing opportunity. It’ll look good for future endeavors. It’s one step closer, but it’s also thousands of miles away from what he wants.

When his stupid student lets it out of the bag that he might be going to Paris on one of their playground hotdog not dates, all Jisung can say is wow, and what a great opportunity, and I’m proud of you. What Minho wants him to say is Don’t go, Stay here with me, and What about us? Minho wants him to get angry that he might leave. He wants Jisung to raise his voice, have an argument. Minho wants Jisung to fight for them. But instead, Jisung’s pager goes off and he goes into work early.

A week before the deadline for Paris, Jisung’s grandmother lands in the hospital. So when Jisung shows up an hour late for one of their hotdog not dates and says it’s been a crazy couple of days and he’s sorry if this hurts, Minho knows Jisung’s pulling away before the Paris deadline. He throws the last bit of his hotdog to the birds and says, “At least it’s not a flesh wound,” and promptly heads home.

 

“Well, take care of the place,” Minho tells Felix as he hands him the keys to his studio. “Officially yours for the next 4 years. All my stuff is in the storage closet so, you know. Have at it.”

The cafe they are at is too cute for Minho’s liking, but Felix wanted to try the fancy flavored milk tea and they had decent pudding so Minho didn’t mind too much.

“Damn, can’t believe you’re really going to Paris.” Felix smiles as he pockets the Kuromi keychain.

“Yeah, well. Don’t wanna teach kids for the rest of my life. Plus my sabbatical is almost up and I’d rather be in Paris than here, so…”

“I can’t believe you’ll be gone for four years.” Felix stabs the croffle he ordered. It’s a mountain of whipped cream and assorted fruits. Minho steals a kiwi.

“It’ll be over in a flash. You need any help moving your stuff from your mom’s house?”

“Nah I don’t have much, just clothes mostly. It’ll be nice to finally have a place of my own. Remind me to thank sungmo for convincing my mom to let me move.”

“Well you need a place to live beyond your parents, and I need someone to take over my rent control. So win, win.”

The next thing Minho knows is the barrage of bodies coming through the doors and the sound as his friends all scream sing “Bon voyage to you, bon voyage to you! Bon voyage Dear Minho! Bon Voyage to yoooouuu!” and there are cakes and streamers, and going away presents. “We’re gonna miss you so much!” they say in watery voices, and it takes every ounce of control for Minho to not cry into his pudding.

 

Minho is in Eomma’s kitchen, eating the last meal his mother will make for him for a while. The bibim nengmyun hits all the right spots.

“You sure you want to go alone?” Eomma asks. “Mrs. Park wouldn’t mind rescheduling Connor’s violin lesson.”

“I’ll be fine! I’m a big boy. I’m capable of going to the airport by myself.” Minho knows he should let his mom see him off, but he really just wants to get as far away as soon as he can.

“You’ll always be my agi. Even when you are old and wrinkled.” She goes to hug him, and she can’t hide the quiver in her voice. “And now you are leaving me forever to be a bigshot ballet dancer in Paris.” It’s all dramatics, Minho knows. But it still stings just the same.

“Eomma, I’ll see you again in three months. It’s just a trial period. They might not even like me.” He lies, he knows they want him, he knows they’ll keep him. He knows he’ll sign the full contract. He was going to be Paris Opera Ballet’s next danseur étoile. What a dream come true, right?

“I’ll miss you.” She hugs him just a little tighter before letting him go. “Let me walk you to the subway?”

“Of course.” He says, taking her hand as he leads her out of the house.

 

Minho zones out on the ride to the airport. He’s lucky to find a seat in the corner and tucks in, his earphones block out the world and he just lets his mind go. Every now and then he gets texts that wish him a fond farewell, and suddenly he regrets not having them take him to the airport. The bon voyage party was everything he could have asked for, but he doesn’t want to lose his friends while he’s in Paris. It’s only for four years, he tells himself, but he knows that if it isn’t Paris it’ll be another city, another ballet company, another place to run to. For all the times Minho has said he’s done hiding, he hides in the open way too well.

As much as he hates airports, it’s not that bad this time. The lines are short and he checks his big luggage easily. He’s on his way to security when he hears a familiar voice call his name.

“Minho!” He doesn’t bother to look back and speeds up his pace.

Jisung runs to catch up next to him.

“I gotta catch my flight.” He adjusts his shoulder bag between them and keeps steady.

“Don’t go. Wait!” Jisung tries to stop him by grabbing his bag strap, but Minho just keeps speeding forward.

“That’s all you want me to do. Wait for you. I am in a constant place of waiting. Waiting for you to return my messages, waiting for you to get out of surgery, waiting for you to acknowledge me. Between your mom and your beeper, I am waiting for any moment I can steal from you and I’m sick of it.”

“It’ll get better when I finish my residency. I’ll have more time for you, for us.”

“It’s not your job that’s holding you back from us. It’s you. You’re afraid of me in public, of us. You’re too scared to let the world really see you, to let it watch you fall in love. You ran away from me without a fight.”

Jisung runs in front of him, blocking his path forward.

“I’m not the one running away to Paris.”

“Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself. It’s for the ballet.” Minho dodges around him.

“I thought your passion was Modern.” Jisung blocks again.

“As if you give a fuck about what I dance.” Minho pushes past him this time.

“Fine, punish me by leaving. But don’t punish yourself by leaving your dreams behind.”

Minho turns and stares right through him. He drops his bag.

“Kiss me. Right here, in front of all these people.” He knows it isn’t fair to put Jisung on the spot like this. He knows that it’s cruel. But he’s so tired of waiting. Jisung doesn’t move. He just looks at all the people around them. He can’t look Minho in the eyes.

Minho scoffs, picks up his bag, and passes through the barrier. He hears Jisung calling for him, but he doesn’t care. What the fuck do you know about my dreams, Han Jisung?

-

Paris is Paris.

Paris is all lights, all charm, all love. Paris is also the underlying smell of piss and sweaty tourists. The not so micro aggressions. The unforgiving vibrations of a city with an unrealistic global reputation of dreams come true and granted wishes. Reminds Minho of home, actually. More often than not he would find himself wanting to wander in the morning, craving a hot dog.

Paris Opera Ballet was everything it was supposed to be- posh, elegant, regal. The other dancers were kind, helping Minho navigate when he needed direction, on and off the stage. Of course there were those who were jealous, but what company didn’t have those. He proved himself quickly, the company chose him for a reason. He poured everything into his practices, readying himself for the upcoming performances. He left everything of himself on the stage. He tried to at least.

Louis, a dancer who has taken it upon himself to “adopt” Minho, lamented the fact that Minho never brought anyone over to their shared fifth level flat. “Mon pote,” he would croon over honey drizzled strawberries, “What good are those thighs if they are never wrapped around someone?”

His boyfriend, Michael, smacks Minho’s butt for good measure. “And what’s the point of that ass, if only to keep it to yourself?”

Minho scoffed. “I’m a professional dancer, the company wants me to be the next danseur étoile. I don’t have time for roma-”

Louis cut him off with a strawberry shoved in his mouth. “We never said anything about romance,” as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Michael wraps his arms around Minho’s shoulders in a back hug. “Leave everything back in New York. Everyone. You are here now. So be here. Now.” Minho just closes his eyes.

 

Minho tried his best to experience Paris. He was going to be a Parisian for the next 4 years after all. His new friends kept him busy, bringing him to cute cafes where they ate Pain au Chocolat and drank double espressos while sitting in bathtubs. Taking him to museums to experience Culture, but really just to take pictures of all the penises or pose with every single painting that had dogs in them. At night, after performances, they’d drink expensive champagne out of paper cups while dancing underneath the Eiffel tower, while simultaneously calling it an eyesore and giving it the finger. They’d even introduce him to cute boys, who would fawn all over him, never let go of his hand, give him gentle kisses on the cheeks, and tell him they could fall in love with him. Then, he’d never see them after they would say their goodbyes when the party was over. Half the time they never gave him their number. And if they did, he never contacted them. They never messaged him either. Though there was the time someone messaged him, saying to delete their contact. There wasn’t even a name attached to the series of numbers on his phone. He replied in English, Sorry, who is this? and immediately blocked the number. He would come to find out that that was just how it was.

Paris- the city of love- had no time for romance, either.

 

Minho found himself falling into it. A schedule, a routine, a habit. It was nice to get out of his head and get into his body. His muscles understood his need. Understood this pain, this soreness, this ache was something he was able to deal with. He’s known this all his life. Welcomed it. He worked harder than he ever had before.

One day, after a particularly grueling rehearsal, Louis laid down next to Minho on the floor, as the other dancers packed up. They stared at the ceiling in silence until the studio was empty. After a few more still moments, Louis whispered a question that felt like a scream. “The one who broke your heart, what was his name?”

And Minho shook. He curled into himself, curled into Louis, his hands making fists on Louis’s chest. Louis's hands served as an anchor, firm on Minho’s shoulders, letting him know it’s alright to grieve, gently giving Minho the permission to let go of all the times he woke up alone, all the times he was left behind on a not date, all the missed calls and unanswered texts. All the hiding, and untold truths. All the last minute, stupid excuses. He had wanted to leave all that behind in New York. Now he leaves it all on the floor of the company studio.

When he’s done, he stays curled up in the arms of his new best friend. When Louis finally breaks the silence, his voice sounds strained. “When I meet this boy, I will kiss him on one cheek and slap him on the other.” And Minho breaks, laughing deep from his gut, until the tears in his eyes are no longer from sadness. But something sticks in his brain like a thorn- when not if. Louis said when.

 

Three months go by in a space of a breath, and Minho isn’t ready to go home for vacation. It’s only a week, and it feels like a waste of time and money, but Eomma misses him. And like a good little boy, he’ll do anything for his mom.

“I wish you’d come with me, I don’t want to be completely stuck at my mom’s house the whole time, and I really want you to meet my old crew. They’d love you.” Minho is half heartedly shoving clothes into a carry on bag, he isn’t bothered to even fold.

“Ah, yes, your previous crew. Eager to show your exes your new love?” Louis bats his eyes and puckers his lips.

“I’m going to tell Michael you consider yourself my new love. Are we a throuple now?” Minho sits on his luggage as he struggles to zip it up.

“Michael would welcome you with open arms. Mon petit chou loves your ass more than he loves mine. But he’s promised to whisk me away to Nice. I want to live in that ocean the whole time we are there. I won’t think about you for one second.” Louis crosses into his room, shoving Minho aside and dumping all the clothes on the floor. He begins to fold them into neat little organized piles. Minho flattens against the floor on his stomach.

“I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to see everyone and answer stupid questions about work. I don’t want to see…” He trails off. “I can’t believe he’s taking you to Nice. Do you think he’ll propose?”

“Oh absolutely. I’m making him. I already saw the rings. That man is incapable of hiding anything from me.”

Minho smiles into the hardwood. He finds that it’s genuine. “I’m happy for you.”

“Of course you are. And you’re going to be our flower girl. I will not take no for an answer.” Louis neatly packs and zips everything away. He stands and holds out his hands for Minho.

“Do I get to be a summer fairy and wear a pink tutu?” He groans at the sudden weight of everything.

“Mon pote, you get to be whatever you want to be, now come. You need coffee and sweets and horrible gifts before you get on that plane.”

 

The few hours before Minho left for the airport were spent third wheeling. Michael met up with them at the cafe and the three of them went souvenir shopping, buying the most obnoxious trinkets for the crew back home. Gaudy Arc de Triomphe magnets, cheesy t-shirts that said I (image of Eiffel tower) Paris, black berets, little jars of Parisian honey. He can’t help the little twinges of jealousy when Louis and Michael hold hands and place little kisses on each other's shoulders. Louis grabs hold of Minho’s hand too, when he notices Minho staring. Minho welcomes the warmth.

“Okay, you have your clothes, your toiletries, your presents, food for the flight and… what else do you need?” Michael is triple checking before Minho heads into security.

“I need to go, I’m cutting it close as it is.” He’s batting away Michael as Louis takes him in his arms.

“You’ll be alright. You text when you get through security, and when you get on the plane, and when you land. You call anytime you need me, I won’t pick up because I’ll be in the ocean, but you call anyway.” He peppers Minho’s cheeks with dry kisses.

“Yes, papa, I’ll let you know everything I do while I’m there.” He leans into the hug a little more.

“Don’t be afraid, okay? If you see him or if you don’t. Don’t be afraid.” Louis whispers into his hair.

I was never the one afraid, Minho thinks as he pulls away from his friends. He gives them one final squeeze, and walks through the barrier that separates him and his old life. Only then did he realize he never told Louis Jisung's name.

-

Despite the seven hours of sleep on the plane, he feels more exhausted than he has ever felt in his life. Felix greets him at the airport with his usual bright eyes, bright smile, bright face. Bright everything that sets Minho’s teeth into a hard grind. Felix tucks him into a firm hug and laughs as Minho stiffens and pulls his torso away, but never breaks the hug.

“I love you too, Hyung.” Felix says in a sickly sweet voice as he guides them to his car. Once luggage is put in the trunk and Minho is fastened into the passenger seat, Felix deposits a bag, a large drink, and a large box into his lap and smiles.

Minho nearly tears up and looks fondly at his cousin. “You really do love me,” he whispers as he pulls out two franks loaded with sauerkraut. He practically inhales one while Felix maneuvers out of the airport loop and onto the roads back home. He is sipping the frothy papaya drink with happy little sounds, then takes an alarmingly large chocolate cookie from the box. I miss this.

“I missed you,” Felix says when Minho finishes his food and sits back, sighing contentedly. “Planet Seoul is so boring without you.”

“Ha, you just don’t like the ajummas trying to set you up with their daughters.”

“Without you there, I can’t say no. I went on three dates with three different women. They were awful. The dates, not the women. Neither of us wanted to be there.” Felix laughs in that ridiculously low timbre of his. “I felt so bad, for me and for them.”

“Oh that sounds horrendous.” Minho doesn’t offer more than that. But still, Felix pushes.

“And this is the part of the conversation where you tell me all about Paris…”

“Paris is Paris.”

“Yes, and I’ve never been, so spill industry secrets please.”

And Minho sighs. He gives what he’s willing to give- everything about Louis and Michael, about the company, the rehearsals, the show, about the late nights under the lights and the early mornings walking the streets.

“That’s it?” Felix huffs.

“Is there supposed to be more? I’ve only been there three months.” Minho knows he’s dodging. He doesn’t want to talk about his love life or lack thereof. He doesn’t want updates of who he left behind, or who left him behind.

Felix hums. They spend the rest of the drive in a comfortable silence as Minho dozed off. When they got to Eomma’s house, the crew were all there with a welcome home cake that tastes like pudding. They ooo’d and ah’d the souvenirs Minho passed to them, wearing the shirts and berets immediately. They were jittery with seeing their old friend and did their best to catch him up on everything he’s missed these last three months. Changbin dropped a ballerina on a lift accidentally on purpose. She was on her way out and was making it her mission to make everyone miserable. Hyunjin was already hyping up the new principal dancer and everyone loved her. Seungmin and Jeongin’s new director and their upcoming show is a trainwreck. Chan’s choreography got picked up by a major artist for their new music video, he had offers pouring in. Minho’s friends were thriving. I miss this.

Only when Minho’s eyelids begin to droop, do the others realize it’s their time to leave. They give air kisses and tight hugs and promises of grabbing coffee and dinner dates as they slip out the door into the cool evening. Felix starts tidying up as Eomma goes to hold his face in her hands. “My sleepy baby,” she coos as she cradles him in her arms. She guides him to the couch where he slumps into her. “Is Paris treating my agi well?”

He grips her a little tighter. “Paris is Paris,” is all he says as she rubs little circles on his back. It reminds him of when he was younger, when she would make soothing sounds and rub his back when he was upset. How did she know he needed that now? I miss this.

“Yongbok-ah, you’re staying the night, yeah?” She gently calls Felix by his family name over Minho’s head.

“Yeah, sungmo. I can stay.”

“Good, you take care of him while he’s here, okay?”

“Yes, sungmo. I’ll take care of him.”

“Good.”

It’s the last thing Minho hears before he falls asleep, but not before a stray thought escapes him. I miss…

 

He wakes up in the dark of the guest room, with Felix sleeping next to him. He looks at his phone and it’s almost five in the morning. He curses his eternal clock, and laughs as his first thought is that he overslept if he was still in Paris. He gently gets out of bed, taking his phone into the kitchen with him to look aimlessly into the fridge. He grabs a carton of banana milk out of boredom and settles on the couch in the living room. He decides to call Louis, just to see if he’d pick up.

He does.

“Mon pote, how is home?”

“I thought you’d be in the ocean and wouldn’t pick up.”

“I am in the ocean. And I picked up. I’m multi-talented like that.” Minho hears the gentle sloshing of waves and the slight huffing of getting up. Louis must be walking back to his spot on the beach.

“Bonjour, mon ami!” He hears Michael in the background.

“Should I be congratulating you yet?”

“Ugh, non. He’ll either do it at the big fancy dinner this weekend or in the middle of the way back. There is no in between.” Louis suddenly sounds muffled. “Yes, yes I see you! Good job!” Then his voice is back. “He is trying to do a handstand in the wet sand. I am going to marry a child.” Minho holds back a chuckle. “You never answered my question- how is home?”

“Home is home.” And everything is everything. Minho has no answers.

“Hmmm. It must be early there. What will you do today?”

“I’ll probably head to the gym with my cousin, grab some ingredients to cook mom an authentic French meal.” Louis sighs at that. Minho can hear the eyeroll thousands of miles away.

“Well, I hope she enjoys the mediocre ratatouille you are going to make her.”

“I was thinking more like french toast.”

“Are you okay, mon pote? Do you need to talk out your thoughts?”

“I don’t know. It’s only been three months, and everything is the same, but different. I am the same but different. My friends were all here yesterday, and I miss them. I miss you too. I miss…” He clamps his mouth shut at the thought. “How can I miss everything when I’m right here?”

“It's jetlag, or indigestion. Go get some food. The feeling will slip away. You’ll settle into things soon enough. You’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just hungry.”

Just then, Felix walks out of the room, looking very very confused. “Hyung? Are you alright? It’s so early.”

“Yeah Lixie, I’m just talking to my roommate.”

“Oh. Hello Minho’s roommate!” He makes his way to sit next to Minho.

“Hello, Minho’s Lixie!” Then Louis’s voice turns into a whisper- “Jesus, Minho that voice.”

“Okay, go back to your not yet fiance. I’ll message you later.”

“Yes, yes. He will drown without me. Je t'aime, mon pote.”

“Love you too, don’t elope without me.”

“Never!”

Minho gets up abruptly, jostling Felix. “Come on, get dressed. We’re going to the bodega. I’m craving a ham, egg, and cheese.”

 

Minho does settle in slowly. Maybe he really was hungry. He drags Felix everywhere. He doesn’t know why, but he wants to see his New York again. They eat everything Minho’s been missing, visit the company, even go to the playground. Only then does he realize he’s reclaiming his spots. His home. Felix must realize it too, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s going along with everything Minho wants. Minho doesn’t question it. When they get back to the house, Eomma ambushes him. Both her and Felix. The last thing he wanted on his vacation was to ever set foot in Planet Seoul again.

“Come on, if I can’t show off my danseur étoile of a son to all of the community then what good are you to me?” Eomma teases.

“Please don’t, I get enough of that from appa.”

“It’ll be fun, hyung.”

“I knew you were up to something when you got me a giant box of Levain’s.”

“What? The dark chocolate peanut butter is amazing!”

“Please agi, for me? Just for a little while. Just to rub it in their faces a little.”

“Eomma!” Minho knew he was gonna lose this battle.

Eomma wraps him in her arms. “He won’t be there, agi.” She whispers. “I promise.” The tension leaves his shoulders a bit. He holds onto her a little longer.

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m leaving after two hours. And you owe me samgyetang.”

“I’ll cook you everything you want until you go back.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

 

It all felt sickeningly familiar. Being paraded, judged, shown off. Felix, that traitor, slipped away to the dance floor the moment they stepped through the doors. Minho knew this dance too well. Smile, bow, talk big about Paris and it’s marvels, how the company was speed running him to the top. How it was a dream come true. Even though he and his mother knew it wasn’t his dream. She rubbed his back as they went from table to table, auntie after auntie. It did give him some satisfaction, though to see how they regarded his mother after that. How they finally saw her as competition, how they saw her as a threat. She was a divorced woman whose only son was going to be the best ballet dancer in Paris. He was far from the best, but if those vultures thought him to be the next Baryshnikov, so be it.

He stays much longer than the promised two hours and he was getting cranky. When someone taps his shoulder, he plasters on his best fake smile to recite his Paris spiel again. But he can’t hide his shock when he turns to face Jisung’s mom.

“Hello Minho.” She’s smiling at him. He just looks at her. He can’t stop looking at her. Her hair is down and curled. Her makeup is dark and sultry. She’s wearing a short black dress with spaghetti straps that shows off her growing baby bump. She’s glowing.

“Oh, uh! Hello… Mrs... Han-sshi.” He goes into a deep 90 degree bow. She swats at his shoulders and laughs. The laugh is real.

“It’s good seeing you again,” she beams at him. “I hope you are happy in Paris.” Her eyes twinkle, but something flashes across her face. If Minho wasn’t so confused about this exchange, he’d think it looked like regret.

“Oh, yeah. Paris is…” But he can’t bring himself to say it. She just keeps staring at him, her face is so open.

Someone comes up behind her and takes her hand. “Not going to introduce me to your new friend?” That someone steps into her side and her smile grows, she looks so happy. She actually giggles.

“Minho! I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Hajoon.” She can’t take his eyes off him.

“I’d be more than that if noona'd let me,” Hajoon jokes as he goes to shake Minho’s hand. Minho is too dumbfounded to do anything but shake his hand.

“Aish, let me live my life, jagi!” She counters, as she begins to lead them away. “Save me a dance, Minho-yah!” She calls over her shoulder. He just stares as she playfully cha chas towards the front of the room with her boyfriend. Minho can’t help but notice how free she looks.

More talking to people he doesn’t care about, more bragging about Paris, more small plates of whatever Korean food someone brings to share. Minho is tired. He’s staring daggers at Felix, who has been bouncing from one dance partner to another, catching up on the community gossip. When Felix finally takes a break to check in with Minho, he’s way too cheerful.

“Planet Seoul is so boring without you. All you do is lie, Lee Yongbok Felix.” Minho sneers.

“You would have fun if you tried. All you’ve been doing is talking to the ajummas. You could just dance to dance.” He picks some food off of Minho’s untouched plate.

“Why do you even bother? There are so many other ways to spend your Friday nights. So many other people whose company you’d actually enjoy. Why do you always come here?”

“Just because you ran away, doesn’t mean I have to.” There’s no edge, no sharpness in Felix’s words. Just a softness Minho doesn’t want to acknowledge. Felix is much too gentle sometimes. “It’s home, hyung. And as much as I complain about it, it connects me to everyone. It’s our community for better or for worse. I’d rather be here than alone.” He looks at Minho then, his face as bright as always. “Besides, who is gonna save sungmo from all the ahjussis?”

Minho looks to where Felix is smiling at and there is Eomma, in the middle of a circle of men, all vying for her attention. Minho doesn’t recognize any of them, but immediately hates all of them. “Oh dear god, please no.” He goes to stand up, but Felix stops him.

“Let her have her fun, you know this night isn’t about you.”

“You owe me more baked goods, brownie boy.”

“Deal. Now come on let’s dance. Show me all the new moves you learned in Paris.”

“Not how ballet works, but sure.”

Minho lasts exactly three dances before he leans hard on Felix. Eomma notices and goes to relieve Felix of his babysitting duty.

“Eomma, please can I go now, it’s almost 4 in the morning in Paris.”

“Just a little longer agi, just a little longer.” As she rubs small circles on his back. She glances quickly at someone across the room and Minho follows her eyes.

It’s Jisung, in his after work clothing, with a piece of jerky in his mouth. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. Minho wants to run far far away, but he can’t move.

“You promised he wouldn’t be here.” He whispers, never taking his eyes off of Jisung.

“He hasn’t come for a while.” She grins non apologetically as she takes a few steps back.

Minho is stuck in his place as Jisung makes his way across the dance floor, through all the dancing couples, towards him. Minho just stares. Don’t be afraid, Louis’s words echo through his brain. Don’t be afraid. But he is.

When Jisung is finally in front of him, they just stand there looking at each other. Minho can’t be the only one that falls so easily. Everything races through Minho’s mind. He wants to run. Whether out the door or into Jisung’s arms, he’s not sure. But when he searches Jisung’s eyes, he knows. He knows that this is it, that this is what he’s been wanting the whole time. That Jisung is willing to give the one thing he asked for in the airport. Everything he asked for in the whole relationship. Everything is laid bare in the few inches between them. He knows that if Jisung truly lets himself fall in this moment, in front of the whole community, Minho will fall right with him. Don’t be afraid.

“Dance with me?” Jisung’s voice is on the verge.

“Ji-”

“Lee Minho, I am asking you to dance with me.” Jisung’s eyes burn into him.

The room stills and the music fades away.

“I can’t,” Minho whispers. Jisung’s face breaks, his eyes search the floor for what to do next. “There’s no music,’ Minho continues, his eyes never leaving Jisung.

It takes a moment for Jisung to catch up, he searches Minho’s face and when he finds that Minho is smiling, Jisung eyes shine brighter. He takes Minho’s hands and pulls him closer. They begin to sway slowly to no music, Jisung keeps looking at Minho.

When the music kicks up and an upbeat song with horns and a jazzy saxophone blares through the speakers, more people pile onto the dancefloor. Minho sees Eomma dancing with someone, her feet barely touching the ground as she glides in circles. Felix catches his eyes for a moment, his booming laugh carries through the room as he spins the girl in his arms. Jisung’s mom is clearly leading Hajoon in their dance. Everyone is in their own little world at Planet Seoul. But not everyone is happy. Minho hears someone say something in disgust, and the table next to them makes a big show of leaving.

“People are leaving,” Minho turns his head towards the commotion. Jisung, who never changed the tempo of their little dance when the music started, pulls Minho’s face back to him. His eyes settle on Minho’s lips as he whispers, “What people?” and leans gently in. The kiss is soft and slow. There is no hesitation, but it’s short. Much too short for Minho’s liking.

Jisung’s arms wrap around Minho’s waist, pulling him so much closer. All Minho can see is Jisung.

“Fuck. Them.” Jisung says into Minho’s lips. He kisses Minho again, but this time, it’s the kiss they’ve always done when no one is looking, when Jisung hid himself, and by proxy Minho, away from the world. Minho feels Jisung let go of his fear in the way his arms pull Minho into him tighter. Minho’s arms encircle Jisung’s shoulders, letting go of his own fear as the kiss grows into a million promises.

In the middle of the dance floor surrounded by their community who don’t even glance twice at them, Minho and Jisung fall together.

 

 

 

Notes:

Dear Readers!

Please forgive the writing errors, format issues, missing tags, etc.
I'll go back and fix it. I promise.

This AU is based on the Chinese American Queer movie Saving Face (2004) and it is one of my favorites. I hope I did it justice Prompter!

Happy Reading!