inspired by / music

jongin/minseok

words: ~2000

Who is the fairest of them all?

Looking glasses, they used to be called. Look into them, and see what you want; or, rather, what you don’t want. Mirrors reflect back everything you only imagine yourself to be, revealing the truth of what those around you constantly tell you.

Minseok really hates mirrors. He’s never liked them, never will. He refuses to look into them when he goes to the bathroom, relies on others to tell him if his hair is out of place or if he has food in his teeth. Mirror mazes are his worst nightmare. He takes hot showers with the door closed, so when he gets out, the glass is fogged up, and he gets dressed in his room because by the time he’s dry, the mirror will be clear again. He can’t understand people who carry around compact mirrors, doesn’t know why girls would want to stop every chance they can just to check their reflections.

“Hyung, why don’t you just use the mirror?” Jongin offhandedly asks one day, when they’re both getting ready to leave their apartment to meet Jongdae and Wu Fan for dinner.

The elder stiffens for a second, then lets his shoulders sag. “I just don’t see the point when I have you to tell me if I look okay.”

Jongin doesn’t understand, but he lets it go. They’re going to be late.

*

Jongin moved in with Minseok roughly six months ago. Jongin, being a first year college student, needed a relatively cheap place to live, and Minseok, being a minimum-wage earning member of society, needed someone to split rent with.

The beginning was awkward, and they tip-toed around each other for about two weeks before Minseok’s friend Lu Han came over and divulged all of Minseok’s secrets to Jongin, breaking the barrier of unknown things between the two (Minseok made sure to get even by getting every piece of information out of Jongin’s mother when she came to visit him about a week later. Baby pictures included).

Now they have a quite interesting dynamic, college student and almost self-supported adult living together and hanging out with each other’s friends. They have movie nights, video game nights, coffee nights, but remain at enough of a distance as to not get too personal. Jongin has dance class on Tuesday nights, while Minseok takes the late shift at work on Thursday.

They know each other’s routines, like how Jongin likes to shower after Minseok because he needs the unlimited hot water to wash away the sweat of dance practice. And Jongin knows that Minseok always cleans the apartment halfway through the month, so he makes a point to not be home for the majority of that day.

They aren’t the perfect, stereotypical pair that always gets along and agrees on everything (Minseok loves chocolate cake, but Jongin’s sweet tooth never really grew in), but everything works, and no one complains.

The one thing Jongin could never figure out about Minseok, though, is why in the world he hated mirrors.

When Jongin had moved in, the mirror in his soon-to-be bedroom had been painted over in a dark black. He had asked, and gotten a short “I don’t like them” in return. He decided at the time that it was better to let that issue rest where it belonged: far away from himself.

But after six months of watching his hyung avoid every reflective surface in sight, Jongin is just a bit too curious (and maybe a little frustrated) not to ask.

*

His opportunity comes after they DIY dye the elder’s hair what is supposed to be a copper orange color. (It was Lu Han’s idea.)

“Does it look okay?” Minseok asks, pulling the still-wet strands of his bangs as far down as they’ll go, trying to get a good look at the color.

“Well, I think so, but why don’t you see for yourself?” Jongin asks, drying his orange-stained hands on a towel.

Minseok frowns at him. “I’m trying to, but my hair isn’t long enough for me to see.”

Jongin reciprocates the frown. Has Minseok really been so used to not using mirrors that he doesn’t even consider them an option anymore? “Just look in the mirror, hyung.”

Minseok visibly tenses at this. There’s a silent moment, a temporary lapse in time almost, before the elder speaks again. “I’m sure it looks fine,” he says, and Jongin’s frown deepens.

The elder tries to make an escape to his room before the conversation can continue, but Jongin is faster; he grabs the hem of Minseok’s black wifebeater, tugging on it so that the other comes back to him.

“I’ve avoided this since the first day we met,” Jongin begins slowly, choosing his words very carefully; he doesn’t want to scare Minseok away, especially now, considering they’re scratching the surface of their more than platonic feelings for each other. “but I think we need to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” Minseok asks, not looking at Jongin. There’s an uncertainty to his voice, a slight waver that has Jongin hoping he hasn’t already gone too far.

Jongin motions for Minseok to stand in front of him so that he can towel his hair dry. “Do you want me to say it, or are you going to?” he asks, gently throwing the towel over Minseok’s head.

Minseok sighs, crossing his arms. “Jongin, if this is about the mirror thing, I really don’t want to--”

“Why not?” Jongin cuts him off, pulling the now stained towel away from Minseok’s head before balling it up and throwing it on the floor.

Minseok turns around, arms still crossed, lips pursed.

Jongin would laugh at his childish appearance, messy hair and all, but this is a serious matter. He gives the other a look, prompting him to say something.

“You know why.”

“I would like to say I do, but I haven’t been privileged to that information yet,” Jongin says, thinking of how, when he had asked Lu Han about it, the other just shook his head and told him to ask Minseok himself.

“Lu Han didn’t tell you?” Minseok looks almost surprised, like he didn’t think Lu Han would keep that to himself. Jongin thinks Lu Han doesn’t get enough credit for the kind of friend he is.

Jongin shakes his head, leaning against the counter behind him.

“Well, I...” Minseok trails off, his hands now balled into fists at his sides, and he’s no longer looking at Jongin. “I just...” The right words won’t come to mind, and he doesn’t know where to start explaining. “There’s no way to say this without sounding pathetic,” he mumbles, running a hand through his newly dyed hair.

“You won’t sound pathetic, and I won’t -- don’t -- think you are,” Jongin assures him.

Minseok looks imploringly at Jongin, as if asking if he really means what he’s saying. He seems to be satisfied with the earnest look he gets back, and sighs before continuing. “I’ve never liked the way I looked. Still don’t,” he says, the hand in his hair tightening in one spot as he tugs on the orange strands in frustration. “No one else understands, really. When I tried telling other people, even my parents, they just thought I was being stupid. They think the whole thing is stupid, actually,” Here, he laughs, a weak kind of laugh that usually leads to tears.

Jongin frowns again. “It’s not stupid.”

“Mm, says you.”

Jongin reaches up, removing Minseok’s hand from his hair and linking their pinkies loosely, swinging their hands back and forth gently. It’s a thing they have, something they usually do while they aimlessly walk around the city together. “Yeah. Says me.”

Minseok bites his lower lip, hard, and Jongin’s afraid he might draw blood. “Thanks,” is all he says, falling forward so that his forehead rests on Jongin’s firm chest. If Jongin feels the hot tears splotching his thin t-shirt, he doesn’t say anything.

*

“Jongin?” Minseok calls from the bathroom a few days later, confusion evident in his tone.

Jongin smiles to himself and gets up from his spot on the couch to see what it is the elder needs (even though he already knows). “Yes, hyung?”

“Where’s the mirror?” He points to the giant, empty space where the large mirror usually hangs. It’s now replaced by a blank wall, the paint a shade lighter than the rest of the room.

“Oh, I got rid of it,” Jongin says casually, like he’s talking about the weather.

Minseok balks. “You what? Why?”

Jongin shrugs. “Because you don’t like them.”

“Yeah, but--”

“So I figured, since you don’t use them, I’ll just be your personal mirror.”

“Excuse me?” Minseok looks thoroughly confused, and, again, Jongin would laugh (Minseok’s hair is a mess, his wifebeater is riding up, and his sweats are hanging lower on the right side than the left), but he probably shouldn’t.

“A mirror is supposed to reflect your appearance, right?” Minseok nods. “It lets you know how you look, what other people are seeing. Since you don’t like seeing yourself, I thought I’d show you in a different way,” Jongin finishes, proud that Minseok is blushing slightly, and also looking a little less confused.

“I still don’t--”

“Your eyes are dark brown, you have high cheekbones,” Jongin brushes his fingers across Minseok’s face, dark skin a nice contrast to Minseok’s much paler complexion. “you have a really nice jawline, and your face is kind of heart-shaped,” He trails a finger down to Minseok’s chin along his jaw, making the other turn a dark crimson color. “You have a perfect nose, it fits your face just right, and there’s this little freckle on the bridge of it that really shows in the summer,” Jongin continues, tapping a finger to the elder’s nose, thinking the way his face scrunches up when he flinches is cute. “You’re blushing right now, and your hair is messed up. I can see your hipbone because your wifebeater is riding up a little, and your sweatpants are uneven,” Jongin’s eyes flick down to the sliver of skin available for viewing, sure his cheeks are at least a little pink now, too, as he continues telling Minseok exactly what he sees. The other looks flustered, and Jongin can tell he’s trembling a bit. “Your lips are on the thin side, but I bet they’re really soft, too,” he mumbles the last part, though he knows Minseok heard.

The elder manages to grab Jongin’s hand, albeit shakily, drawing it away just before Jongin manages to run a thumb over his bottom lip. “This is...” he starts, thinking of the right words. Words that won’t make him cry again. “You don’t have to do this.”

Jongin grabs Minseok’s hand, linking all of their fingers this time. “Yes I do. If you won’t accept what the mirror is telling you, then at least believe what I tell you.”

Minseok looks at Jongin, watery eyes hopeful and vulnerable.

The fluorescent lights in the bathroom wash Minseok out, make him look paler and the dark circles under his eyes stand out. But Jongin doesn’t tell him this, because he is the ideal mirror, the one that only reveals the beautiful parts of Minseok (though Jongin thinks everything about Minseok is beautiful).

“How do I know I can believe you?” Minseok mutters, looking down now, his feet shuffling on the cold tile.

Jongin pulls Minseok closer, pressing their foreheads together and forcing the elder to look him in the eyes. “What reason do I have to lie to you?”

That seems like a good enough answer because Minseok is soon smiling, and Jongin ponders whether he should tell Minseok how dazzling he thinks his smile is, too. He decides against it, though, because those thin, yet soft-looking lips are too close to resist now, and Jongin takes advantage of their positions.

The kiss is chaste, and it only lasts a few seconds, but it has both of them blushing from the tips of their ears down to their toes.

Minseok lets out a laugh, a real one, right after, and Jongin feels the laughter bubbling up in his throat as well.

“You’re really cheesy, you know that?” the elder says, pulling away so he can punch Jongin half-heartedly in the chest.

“Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it?”

*

The next day Jongin goes to class with the worst bed head ever and his shirt put on backwards.

Lu Han chooses not to say anything until lunch, when he sees Jongin for the third time that day, and Jongin reconsiders all the credit he’s given the elder for being a good friend.

~

do you guys get the ending? no? yes?

also minseok was right. this is really cheesy. and probably doesn't make sense. OTL this is to help me get over writers block so forgive me