Bright blue ink taints the sky overhead, made brighter by the sun, powerful and glaring despite the light, omnipresent smog of the city below. The moon has gone into hiding for now (or perhaps it's still there, just invisible) but no matter; its time will come later.

 

A breeze sweeps through the aforementioned city, light, cheerful, cool against summer-burnt skin. It flies into the dorm from the balcony, dances around the young man before the mirror, ruffling his hair a little but doing nothing to erase the slight frown stuck upon his face.

 

Kim Jonghyun is worried.

 

Before him, the looking-glass is brutally honest, showing him everything as is, no masks, no euphemisms. Gazing at it, he can only come to one conclusion, the one conclusion he's been dreading:

 

He shouldn't have eaten so much in Japan.

 

He turns, twists this way and that in vain attempt after vain attempt to properly inspect every angle of his body. His abdomen is less defined, he notices: what used to be sharp lines are now softer shadows, and his biceps kind of flop. He pokes at his right one: it jiggles slightly.

 

Jiggles. He has fat. In him.

 

He honestly feels like crying, but because he is a masochist, he pokes at his left bicep and watches it shake, too, much like its counterpart.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

He jumps at the voice floating from the doorway and lowers his arms quickly at being caught. Minho is leaning against the threshold, looking at him - bemusedly is the only way to describe it. "N-nothing, go away."

 

"Were you checking yourself out?"

 

"No! Now go away!" He tries to keep the whine from creeping into his voice, honestly he does, but it's there anyway. Jonghyun is like an open book to Minho: an open book that can't shut itself, held back by years of living together. Minho chuckles, takes two long strides and has Jonghyun in his arms in a matter of seconds.

 

"You're not fat, hyung."

 

"...My bicep jiggles. My abs aren't defined. I knew I shouldn't have eaten so much in Japan!"

 

Overhead, the rapper laughs again, the sound reverberating in his chest, where Jonghyun can hear his heartbeat.

 

"Stop laughing!"

 

"Oh, hyung." Is that condescendence? Why I oughta- Jonghyun goes to tell him off, but is brusquely interrupted by a pair of lips against his and a tongue spearing away the last of his thoughts. He moans before he can stop himself; a whimper nearly escapes him when Minho pulls away.

 

"Jonghyun."

 

"...What?" The vocalist has his ear back against his lover's chest now: right where it belongs.

 

"Your bicep jiggled because you weren't flexing."

 

"...Oh."

 

 

 

 

(A/N: So. Yes. How was this? Too short, innit. Future may or may not happen, though. )