Myungsoo’s face doesn’t match his coordination.

Kim Myungsoo, also known as L, is Infinite’s visual, what with his ulzzang features and all. His sharp cheek bones and jawline that are prominent and confident, his nose and mouth carved to perfectly fit on his flawless skin, his chocolate mousse hair fixed and arranged to gracefully frame his face; he’s an angel, people think, because looks like that were virtually impossible to have. His eyes that seem to look right into your soul, jet black orbs in a sea of white, encased in almond shapes; he’s the devil, people think, because one look can send shivers and chills down your spine. His smile is his most perfect feature however. Rows of white teeth infectiously pushing the corners of people’ lips up, dimples adding to the bow-like upward curve his mouth makes, eyes becoming half-moon crescents, sparkling with mischief; everyone agrees -- Kim Myungsoo is simply beautiful.

He’s a decent dancer, otherwise, why would he be a part of Infinite, famous for their synchronization in movement? He can act out his fight scenes in dramas and music videos convincingly. He can sling nunchucks around his shoulders and torso effortlessly while half-asleep. But maybe that’s only L, his other persona, s muse. L is charismatic in his actions. Kim Myungsoo is, however, a different story.

Myungsoo could never really get the hang of how his body should work in the twenty years he’s spent on the planet. He’s constantly falling, both on and off-camera, slipping on non-existent objects or being pushed to the ground by imaginary figures. Even when he’s sitting down, he still has the ability to fall. It’s amazing to think that this person could be as swift and as skillful as a ninja in his dramas, but in the dorms, could not stand on his own for five minutes without tripping over his own feet. Myungsoo loses his balance too many times for his own good.

Said face of the group is also clumsy when it comes to love. Being the cool (sometimes cold) and mysterious (secretive) man that he is, he’s always awkward with his feelings, or rather, with how he expresses them. He’s not very good with words, so he can’t really express the fact that he’s dying every day, mainly because a certain maknae has either spent the night cuddling with his Hoya hyung or has hugged affectionately a very greasy Woohyun.

Lee Sungjong was the epitome of balance; always finding the right line between masculine and feminine, the line between cute and y, the line between mature and childish. He’s the sunshine to Myungsoo’s drab and dreary life, but you’d never hear him say that. (His tongue is all tied-up; even that part of him is clumsy, he bitterly thinks).

It’s a sunshiny day when fate decides to get all tied up, too, and the world becomes a giant knot. Myungsoo takes a particularly hard fall during one of their performances, squeaky shoes and slippery floors no longer an excuse. He’s nursing his right hand in his room, holding it tenderly in his left. He can feel his bones somehow disintegrating (he knows he’s overexaggerating, but what does he care; he’s going to have a hard time sleeping, and that, Myungsoo thinks, is a disaster). He’s grimacing in pain sitting up on his bed when he notices dark brown hair and a messy fringe quietly entering his and Dongwoo’s room and a flash of white in the intruder’s hands. 

Sungjong sits next to Myungsoo and gingerly takes his favorite hyung’s injured hand in his own. He starts to wrap a long, white bandage around his hand, securely covering the black-blue-purple bruises, somehow stitching up his bones together. Myungsoo realizes then that even his heartbeat has no rhythm.

“Hyung, why did you have to be born so clumsy? I do worry for you. It’s painful to see you all bruised and wounded,” Sungjong says, scowling (pouting is a cuter term, Myungsoo deliberates. It matches him), focusing on the beaten-up hand of the older boy.

“It’s not always bad to lack coordination,” Myungsoo chuckles, unnaturally putting on a calm smile (unnatural for somebody who thought injuring his hand was the end of the world just a few moments ago). His mind is racing though, because did Sungjong just tell him he actually cares?

“Give me one time wherein losing your balance became a good thing.”

Myungsoo pretends to think about it for a few seconds, but he knows the reply to that, right from the very beginning. He dreams about it at night (and during the day, because Sungjong is just running all over his mind 24/7, never once tripping), and it’s the only thing about his clumsiness that he doesn’t regret.

“It was when I fell for you.”

Sungjong stops bandaging his hyung’s hand momentarily and freezes, and Myungsoo wonders if he just said the wrong thing, if he should curl up in a ball and die already, like a helpless millipede stomped on cruelly, because maybe he’s ruined everything. Sungjong not moving just makes everything worse, and he wishes the younger would do anything, slap him, curse at him, run away. Anything but just sit there.

Sungjong clears his throat, and Myungsoo apprehensively tries to meet his eyes, just to get a warning of what he might say or do next. “Do you want to know the only time I lost my balance?” Sungjong starts. Myungsoo looks up at the flushed maknae (‘abused’ too much by the other hyungs, much like the younger’s teddy bear, and Myungsoo would gladly take care of him, but that’s not the point right now. Myungsoo inwardly slaps himself and misses), and the older boy is almost afraid to hear the answer.

“It was when I fell for you, too.”

The bandage is neatly wrapped around his hand, coupled with slender fingers intertwining with his. Myungsoo smiles lopsidedly, brain and heart on different levels of speedy (the former is fast, the latter is furious), but he couldn’t care less. (Sungjong thinks the smile is crooked, but what does he expect? He’s fallen in love with it over and over again, because it’s so typically Myungsoo’s. And Myungsoo is his).

Kim Myungsoo doesn’t mind losing his balance if it means having Lee Sungjong there to catch him, until infinit(e)y ends (which is obviously never, and Myungsoo revels in that fact).

(“The roles are reversed,” Myungsoo pouts at the figure lying next to him on Woohyun’s bed. “I promised myself I’d take care of you, Sungjong. But it seems like you’re the one that catches me when I fall. Which is unhealthy, since you’re as thin as a stick.”

Sungjong grins and mock-punches Myungsoo on his shoulder. “Yah, Hyung, I’m strong! It’s just another thing you do irregularly.”

“But – “

“And it’s what I love about you, hyung.” Sungjong places a kiss on Myungsoo’s perfect nose, and snuggles up in the strong arms of Infinite’s main presence. The visual’s perfect skin turns pink from embarrassment, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it.

Kim Myungsoo decides that he’s happy where he is, where they are.)