duskyskz

[duskyskz]

Is anyone still waiting on this ....?

50/50 Chapter 3

Warnings - Toxic relationship, verbal/physical assault (NOT with main pairing), eventual smut but very very slow burn, boxer minho, trust issues reader, development on dom/sub dynamics, sex education to a degree - detailed tags to come with individual chapters.After the final straw in your patience and self confidence leads you to moving in with your neighbour, you spend months unlearning bad habits and opening doors you shut yourself out from in your last relationship.

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 3

You’ve grown to be very self-sufficient over the years, making peace with caring for your own needs only. With your particular course being online based, you could work from home for both classes and the part-time tutoring you offered to cover fees and rent. You still received a bursary to help you with books, and the leftover savings you’d stocked kept you from starving on bad days with the occasional clothing or entertainment splurge. You had slept alone most nights, even in your previous situation, and ran errands without company or even need for it.

This morning, you watched Minho place treats in the three metal bowls by the kitchen entrance, individually for each of his pets, carefully picking flavours he knew they liked. He kneels down on the tile, lowering himself all the way down to eye level with the eldest and gently bumps his nose to her forehead - in a gesture he explained earlier to you means hello, goodbye, I care for you and I’ll return soon. He slips his shoes on jogging up to you, spurring you out of your observations.“Do you have everything?”

You nod and shoulder your bag, twisting the strap as it tangled in your own spaghetti sleeve.

“Yeah, I took my charger too - Are you sure you have space for another person in the office?” You can’t help but question. Despite repeated reassurance, it’s hard for you to imagine the boxing club would have a room serene enough to gather your thoughts. But you trust Minho, and going for one day couldn’t hurt even if the time was wasted, you convinced yourself. The discomfort on your shoulder lifts before you manage to untangle the straps, your fingers left empty as Minho’s own separate the bag from your arms. It’s a brief touch, delicate and direct to the point as he slips your items onto his shoulder instead - but the contact isn’t lost on you even after you part.

“This bag is uncomfortable, come on.” The cause of your confusion is already out the door holding it open for you, and you scurry to join him. You know your bag was shit - it’s seen you through years of rushed laptop packing and heavier-than-reasonable grocery runs on days you got too caught up in the fruit selection to consider how you’d haul it all back home. Minho’s grip on the leather doesn’t budge, and your fingers twitch by your side before you can make your mind up about taking it back, but maybe it’s okay if you don’t. Minho is already a few steps down ahead of you, and you match his steps when he slows down between the floors.

You consider for the first time that self-reliance isn’t all there is. That you could exist above being just content with existing, and take steps towards a range of emotions you haven’t explored in a while. And there’s an unsure thought, betraying all the mentality of self-sufficiency you’ve built up over the years that you want to be looked after too - in a way that comes so freely, as if these affections weren’t tokens for greater means.

***

The smell of chlorine hit you like a brick wall upon entering the lower level of the building, being led past Jeongin at the reception. The building was larger than you expected - signs for an indoor pool and tennis court hung to your left, while a staircase and elevator led access to the higher floors, a cafe and the boxing area.

Minho was right - the entire second floor was open plan, with a boxing ring off-centre and a cube-shaped office space tucked away into the further corner. The space was considerable, making you think back to what you knew about his job. He teaches boxing classes to kids and young teens, and along with Chan owns the place. Felix and Jeongin switch reception duties, though the former mostly mans the cafe opposite the front desk. Hyunjin, who you met already also, is the lifeguard and swim coach - leaving Changbin as the boxing aid.

The boxing office itself was a smaller deal, painted white outside with a blue stripe running alongside the outer walls to match the design of the rest of the hall and the gym’s predominant colour. Minho left you to organise, and you caught sights of him leading a small class across the outside hall while you unpacked. Moving the papers surfaced the tension your shoulders had been harbouring for the last week, making you roll your neck with a groan. You’d just finished plugging in your laptop to run an internet speed test when a rhythmic tapping came from the door. “Yeah?”

“Hi!” Felix’s hair is more of a tangled frizz of bleach blonde, and you think it compliments his brilliant smile perfectly. “How are you settling in?”

“I’m good, Lixie.” You stretch your hands above your head, popping out sore joints. “I only took some books and my laptop, so it wasn’t hard to set up. I did have to move some older papers, though.”

“Oh, yeah - Minho took us kinda off guard when he said you’d be coming down so we didn’t have time to tidy since yesterday - Do you want me to fix that, by the way? Your back,” He clarifies, coming up to your desk.

“Oh, no - No, it’s totally fine, you don’t have to!”

“Y/n, I give the guys massages all the time, I’m practically certified. Plus - no offence, your back sounds all kinds of messed up. Are you sleeping on rocks or something?” You swallow your discomfort at the sudden space intrusion, letting the boy maneuver around the back of your chair. You weren’t prepared for physical contact today, not within this hour at least and the closeness of his breath against your hair makes it stand on ends.

“Or something, yeah…” You huff when Felix’s hands rest on your shoulders, gripping just above the collarbone.

He digs his thumbs into the muscle, dragging down, and the movement sends chills down your spine instantly. You melt into the seat, its rugged old glory welcoming your slumped form. Felix repeats the move, each touch of his hands so precise you readily believe him to have memorised all your nerve endings upon setting sight on your cramped arms. “You’re really good at this…”

“Oh, thanks! Chan works out like, all the time and he barely lays down so he gets cramps in his back once a week at least and then I tell him his arms are already super impressive he says - “ You respond with a drawn out sigh when he targets a particularly sore spot, but the touch feels good, like taking a hairband off after a whole day with your hair tied up tight atop your skull. “- right, but are you still sleeping on the living room couch?”

“Yeah? Minho doesn’t have a spare room, so I stay in the living room. Well, I did prior to today.” That was probably another reason why he dragged you out, and you were grateful for the change of scenery too.

“You know Minho would give you his bed if you asked.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to give up another thing for me. He’s already helped me a lot and I don’t want to be imposing…”

“Imposing?” Felix frowns, rubbing down your shoulders to your elbow. “You’re not imposing. Trust me, if Minho didn’t want you here he wouldn’t have let you. He’s usually not that nice.”

Minho being anything but nice didn’t sound right to you. He’s never been anything short of patient and charitable to you, you’d never even seen him frustrated. It was a situation you were thankful for than you could reasonably say out loud. He gave you a semblance of peace, one you wanted to hold on to until the last bit of it ran out.

“Hey, do you want to check out the pool later?” Felix must have taken your silence as a sign to change the subject, bouncing back before your desk to look at you as he spoke. “We have spare swimming suits if you need one, but we don’t have anyone booked for the evening, and Chan usually does a few laps after closing anyway.”

In just over a week, you’d pushed more of your boundaries than the last 3 years of your life combined. The defence mechanisms you suddenly had no use for, the survival tactics you’d ingrained in yourself having no reason to show. And...it felt nice. You wanted to push more.

You wanted to be more.

***

Minho was in a conundrum.

You floated a few meters away from him, water lapping just above your waistline, dressed in a nondescript navy swimsuit he’d lent you from the gym stock pile. It fit a little loosely, and you had to keep pulling the straps up your shoulders when you swam. He distracted himself with the sight of you, and your laughter - louder than he’d ever seen you giggle, ringing deep in his heart. The fluorescent lights he’d always thought blinding bounced around your cheeks, catching on your lips when you smiled at something Jisung said.

And thus was the issue, the opposing part of his thought process. Minho had never regretted teaching Jisung his craft, telling him how to train safely and even giving him a spare key to the upper rooms where the boxing ring and offices were located; except now he did a little, whenever your dainty hands came to rest on his comparably larger shoulders. Of course, Minho knew it was only for balance in the deeper water, and perhaps a tiny part because Jisung was so damn likeable. Felix was with you too, throwing pool noodles at your heads from a distance away.

“Min? Don’t you want to come in with us?” With us, you made it sound so exclusive. It wasn’t your fault at all, you never knew of his inner battles nor the amount of effort it took to even dip his feet in the pool. You finally stepped away from Han after what felt like an eternity for him to stare at the side of your face, waddling over to where the water was shallower, where Minho sat on one of the metal ladders.

And Minho would never tell you that despite co-owning the gym and holding multiple athletic medals, he can’t actually swim.

The water was alien, unpredictable and brash against his skin even as he dipped his feet below the surface. There were no pool floats to help him here, no inflatable donuts to convoy him safely to the other side.

He shook his head vehemently. “Nah, I’m good!~”

There was no stopping you, really, after you’d found out the gym had a covered swim area on site. The other boys followed, eager to escape the stuffy boxing hall in the upper levels. Minho could understand, agree even - the heat rose through the building, and summers were unbearable even with ventilation running through the walls.

“Are you okay, Minnie?” You paddle over to where he sat, leaning your elbows against the metal steps. The water warps your curves, and he focuses all he can on the funny way your foot looks at the bottom instead of the endless wet below him. He doesn’t realise his knuckles turn white on the ladder handle until your hand rests atop his own grip, loosening his hold.

“Oh, Minho can’t swim!” Minho had never wished violence on Yang Jeongin, but he was entering a point of no return if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. “He’s too scared of the deep end to get in the water.”

“You should have said so, we didn’t have to come down…” your face meets his right away, worry creasing your forehead. You don’t remove your hand from his, and Minho suddenly realises the impact of a subtle action. Did you get goosebumps when he placed his hand on yours to reassure you some days? It was a light gesture, a comforting hold he offered to the kids in his class who fell a bit too hard and scraped an elbow.

The thought brought forth another wave of nausea in him, because he realised he definitely should have asked if you wanted to be touched at all. Just because you never shrugged him off, didn’t mean you welcomed it - he had no idea what kind of touch your last relationship had you used to. But the weight of your palm on his skin lifted the strain of these thoughts, if marginally. Minho swallows down the worry that you mirror his affections out of the thought it's what he expects of you, choosing - if for his own sake - to believe you don’t mind the contact as much as he wishes for it.

There, submerging himself up to the hips in water way colder than enjoyable temperatures would allow, Minho knows he would do a lot to make you smile again. You clap your hands excitedly when he stands away from the poolside ladder, and even though he looks undeniably awkward with his arms glued to his sides, you congratulate him as if he’s won all 12 rounds in the ring. Minho wants you to smile like that all the time - loud, with your nose scrunched and hair sticking to your forehead because you’re too excited to care and brush it back.

It’s easier to talk to you like that, when you don’t even notice you’re letting your eyes meet directly, and take his jokes without hesitation. He has to joke, to distract himself from the depths before him, and from you. Jisung’s energy must have infected you, coupled with Felix insisting on blowing up the beach balls from the storage. It would take them longer to clean up and close today than any other time, but even then, Minho couldn’t bring himself to scold the younger boys when it’s the first time he’s seen you engage so fully with other people.

You hit the ball back, bouncing off the pool waves for Jisung to throw back to you. Minho joins too, wading just a few feet further to stay close to you.

“I’ll stay ahead of you, so you know where it gets deep.” You promised, and Minho never pointed out your height being notably shorter than him, thus not being a good depth indicator at all. The fact you cared enough to look out for him made him feel more confident already.

“Alright, I’m trusting you.”

***

“Changbin I swear, if I wasn’t freezing my ass off right now you’d catch these hands.”

You are freezing, but you leave the complaining to the other boys around you in favour of rubbing yourself dry.

“How was I supposed to remember that the heating shuts off after hours! I never close!”

“You were supposed to extend the timer!” Jisung’s whining was cut off by a towel to the face, Minho crouching by the lockers to hand out pillowy cotton rags. You find yourself watching him more often, in a way you can only describe as observant. It’s partly your curiosity, and partly for the measure of safety familiarising yourself with those around you. You catalogue his mannerisms in the morning and the mugs he uses most and how chaotic he can get when he himself feels comfortable, too.

You’ve been stuck halfway for the last week, grateful for his apprehension and slow approach when speaking to you - he must have thought you to scare easily still, which wasn’t untrue. Even you couldn’t truly understand your reactions sometimes, or which move would make the hair on your arms raise so Minho’s immediate response was to walk on eggshells around you. Still, you were entering a flipside you were growing head over heels endeared by. A sense of accomplishment came over you every time Minho broke that weariness, as if it was your own victory that his character came through unbridled. You saw it unobscured right now, around the friends that so generously wrapped you in their circle too. Minho wasn’t scary, and he wasn’t a threat - you determined that statement true for now, with all things considered. But just because he didn’t actively hurt you didn’t make him immediately trustworthy, and that’s a hypothesis you were only recently testing out.

You’d all moved to the upper level now, scrambling to bundle back up in your own clothes.

“You guys go ahead, Changbin and I will lock up properly,” Minho snaps up, waving away the younger boys. “Do you need help packing?”

“No, I’ll leave my stuff here for tomorrow. You have security cameras, right?” It was surprisingly comfortable to work in the gym office, but the day left you too tired to consider doing any work at home after hours. “I’ll just have to grab my coat, is that okay?”

“I’ll wait for you downstairs, we have to check the locks.” Minho leads Changbin outside, to where you assume is the basement and storage, and when they disappear from sight you turn to enter the cubicle office.

He had plenty of chances to dig a hole under you today, but you didn’t see him attempt even once. He didn’t throw cold water at you in the pool shower, and he gave you the first towel he grabbed.

For now, the scales were in his favour.

You decided Minho was, in everything that matters, a good person.

***

You should have noticed before.

You should have definitely questioned it before, why Minho seems to always have spare snacks to give you, why there was a new hairbrush on the coffee table the morning after you mentioned your own brush had chipped teeth that pulled your hair, why you found him googling home insulation DIY’s after the pool day where you both woke up sneezing the next day.

Minho was looking after you. And what’s worse, he did it quietly, in ways you never asked for verbally.

And not only did he look after you daily, he also looked right at you. The wall-length window embedded into one of the walls offered you an unobscured view of Minho and the other gym members, both as he taught the offered classes and while entertaining himself with the various equipment. As most things glass do, this property went both ways, giving Minho an equally clear view of you throughout the day.

This was never in your way before, and you didn’t think it an obstacle to your workflow when you first assessed your new work area. But unpredicted developments arose, without blueprint or planning permission on your part, and thus you were ill prepared to deal with the implications of your present state. You have read romance novels, and watched teen drama shows, so you of course had an understanding of conventionally attractive behaviour even if it never quite caught on with you. Romance, flirting or the swooning aftermath was redundant to you for a long while, and prolonged disuse of the muscle in your chest made it lacklustre in situations as the one you were coming to terms with currently experiencing.

And Minho was extremely beautiful, which bode terribly for your workflow.

Having already gone through the embarrassing ordeal of being caught staring off screen by a student, you briefly considered asking Minho to install blinds, but the fear of him asking your reasoning shut down the idea quickly.

Yet it was increasingly a struggle to deny yourself the view outside, every time the object of your dilemmas passed your window. Maybe Netflix dramas did hold some substance, you’d begrudgingly admit, watching as Minho cleared sandbags from the training grounds. Impressive is the word you first used, for the ease he carried even the heaviest bags with, heaving them over his shoulder one by one. Fluorescent white light should have made his figure harsher, but your flatmate looked perfectly placed below them, with everything you knew about visage slamming head first into the window pane between you.

You understood now, why adverts used slow motion on models in pools and fitness marketing, closing in on every dripping muscle.

“Lunch!”

“Shit, Felix!” The door to your office quivered in its hinges with his energetic entrance, but Felix quickly made up for the tremors with a tiered box upon your desk.

“Sorry, sorry - I didn’t know you’d be occupied.” Felix lowers his head to where your face was a second ago and you instinctively back up as his ear brushes your nose. “I don’t blame you one bit, I don't know how you get any work done with a view like that.”

Before you can ask what he means, you follow his line of sight just in time for the object of your demise to catch your eye and smile.

You could have never known if you imagined his feline eyes light up for you, or if the artificial light favoured him in particular.

***

Minho wipes his hands on his sweats, glancing up to catch a breath when his eyes meet yours through the window and he’s waiting for you to smile back before he knows it.

“You’re zoning out,” Changbin’s voice interrupts his train of thought, but before he can question it, the frown on the younger man’s face silences him. “I don’t know what your whole situation is, but if it’s as fragile as you say, you’re only gonna fuck it up if you’re not careful.”

“I’m just making sure she’s fine, Bin.” There’s more annoyance in his voice than he would have liked to show, but the day wore him down anyway. “There’s nothing wrong with taking care of a friend.”

“And I’m just making sure you don’t get your feelings confused, Minho.” Changbin retorts, swiping a hand across his face.

“Don’t go around filling voids you aren’t ready for.” Taglist: @healinghyunjin @lizsvcks @glitteryskzstraykidsdream @changbinscypher @spilledtee @linours @lauvelysong @skzleeknow12

[duskyskz]

sorry I'm mia guys I met a man who cooks for me and calls me his whore so my priorities are skewered

[duskyskz]

POV he just came in your mouth in the practice room

#stray kids #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin #skz smut #stray kids imagines #skz #Hyunjin smut #Hyunjin

[duskyskz]

We've been meeting almost everyday as a No Labels thing we just cuddle for hours on end and go visit places and he got me a birthday cake yesterday - and after everyone else left we cuddled in my bed for a few hours and he asked if, possibly, I want to be with him......... just as a theory...

sorry guys I cannot write 50/50 right now. I met a man and somehow I am living my own plot. My heart and mind are not stable.

[duskyskz]

i love hearing “mine” and “my” during sex. “ my good girl” “you’re all mine” “this pussy is mine” “my cumslut”. ugh i love it all

[duskyskz]

Jisung looks like he smokes and dips class Chan looks like a PE teacher

they have no reason to be this fucking hot—no reason

[duskyskz]

I love you

#stray kids #skz #lee minho #lee know #leee minho ohmygod sir your waist your lips

[duskyskz]

lee know — instagram update

#please take me

[duskyskz]

sorry guys I cannot write 50/50 right now. I met a man and somehow I am living my own plot. My heart and mind are not stable.

[duskyskz]

Changbin shows no trace of remorse, your left leg hooked over his thigh as you sit perched next to him on the loveseat. Your legs spread wide open, and sopping entrance exposed to cold living room air, neither Chan nor Felix pay any attention to the squelching of Changbin's finger's lazily massaging your slit. This type of open affection was normalised between the boys and you, and you briefly wondered how you got in this surreal of a situation when your best friend angled his hand a little higher, palm grazing your clit with every slow thrust of his fingers, and you whimpered softly, cumming on Changbin's hand as his bandmates watched your form from the other side of the room.

Their shameless staring only made you cum harder.

[duskyskz]

50/50 Chapter 3

Warnings - Toxic relationship, verbal/physical assault (NOT with main pairing), eventual smut but very very slow burn, boxer minho, trust issues reader, development on dom/sub dynamics, sex education to a degree - detailed tags to come with individual chapters.After the final straw in your patience and self confidence leads you to moving in with your neighbour, you spend months unlearning bad habits and opening doors you shut yourself out from in your last relationship.

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 3

You’ve grown to be very self-sufficient over the years, making peace with caring for your own needs only. With your particular course being online based, you could work from home for both classes and the part-time tutoring you offered to cover fees and rent. You still received a bursary to help you with books, and the leftover savings you’d stocked kept you from starving on bad days with the occasional clothing or entertainment splurge. You had slept alone most nights, even in your previous situation, and ran errands without company or even need for it.

This morning, you watched Minho place treats in the three metal bowls by the kitchen entrance, individually for each of his pets, carefully picking flavours he knew they liked. He kneels down on the tile, lowering himself all the way down to eye level with the eldest and gently bumps his nose to her forehead - in a gesture he explained earlier to you means hello, goodbye, I care for you and I’ll return soon. He slips his shoes on jogging up to you, spurring you out of your observations.“Do you have everything?”

You nod and shoulder your bag, twisting the strap as it tangled in your own spaghetti sleeve.

“Yeah, I took my charger too - Are you sure you have space for another person in the office?” You can’t help but question. Despite repeated reassurance, it’s hard for you to imagine the boxing club would have a room serene enough to gather your thoughts. But you trust Minho, and going for one day couldn’t hurt even if the time was wasted, you convinced yourself. The discomfort on your shoulder lifts before you manage to untangle the straps, your fingers left empty as Minho’s own separate the bag from your arms. It’s a brief touch, delicate and direct to the point as he slips your items onto his shoulder instead - but the contact isn’t lost on you even after you part.

“This bag is uncomfortable, come on.” The cause of your confusion is already out the door holding it open for you, and you scurry to join him. You know your bag was shit - it’s seen you through years of rushed laptop packing and heavier-than-reasonable grocery runs on days you got too caught up in the fruit selection to consider how you’d haul it all back home. Minho’s grip on the leather doesn’t budge, and your fingers twitch by your side before you can make your mind up about taking it back, but maybe it’s okay if you don’t. Minho is already a few steps down ahead of you, and you match his steps when he slows down between the floors.

You consider for the first time that self-reliance isn’t all there is. That you could exist above being just content with existing, and take steps towards a range of emotions you haven’t explored in a while. And there’s an unsure thought, betraying all the mentality of self-sufficiency you’ve built up over the years that you want to be looked after too - in a way that comes so freely, as if these affections weren’t tokens for greater means.

***

The smell of chlorine hit you like a brick wall upon entering the lower level of the building, being led past Jeongin at the reception. The building was larger than you expected - signs for an indoor pool and tennis court hung to your left, while a staircase and elevator led access to the higher floors, a cafe and the boxing area.

Minho was right - the entire second floor was open plan, with a boxing ring off-centre and a cube-shaped office space tucked away into the further corner. The space was considerable, making you think back to what you knew about his job. He teaches boxing classes to kids and young teens, and along with Chan owns the place. Felix and Jeongin switch reception duties, though the former mostly mans the cafe opposite the front desk. Hyunjin, who you met already also, is the lifeguard and swim coach - leaving Changbin as the boxing aid.

The boxing office itself was a smaller deal, painted white outside with a blue stripe running alongside the outer walls to match the design of the rest of the hall and the gym’s predominant colour. Minho left you to organise, and you caught sights of him leading a small class across the outside hall while you unpacked. Moving the papers surfaced the tension your shoulders had been harbouring for the last week, making you roll your neck with a groan. You’d just finished plugging in your laptop to run an internet speed test when a rhythmic tapping came from the door. “Yeah?”

“Hi!” Felix’s hair is more of a tangled frizz of bleach blonde, and you think it compliments his brilliant smile perfectly. “How are you settling in?”

“I’m good, Lixie.” You stretch your hands above your head, popping out sore joints. “I only took some books and my laptop, so it wasn’t hard to set up. I did have to move some older papers, though.”

“Oh, yeah - Minho took us kinda off guard when he said you’d be coming down so we didn’t have time to tidy since yesterday - Do you want me to fix that, by the way? Your back,” He clarifies, coming up to your desk.

“Oh, no - No, it’s totally fine, you don’t have to!”

“Y/n, I give the guys massages all the time, I’m practically certified. Plus - no offence, your back sounds all kinds of messed up. Are you sleeping on rocks or something?” You swallow your discomfort at the sudden space intrusion, letting the boy maneuver around the back of your chair. You weren’t prepared for physical contact today, not within this hour at least and the closeness of his breath against your hair makes it stand on ends.

“Or something, yeah…” You huff when Felix’s hands rest on your shoulders, gripping just above the collarbone.

He digs his thumbs into the muscle, dragging down, and the movement sends chills down your spine instantly. You melt into the seat, its rugged old glory welcoming your slumped form. Felix repeats the move, each touch of his hands so precise you readily believe him to have memorised all your nerve endings upon setting sight on your cramped arms. “You’re really good at this…”

“Oh, thanks! Chan works out like, all the time and he barely lays down so he gets cramps in his back once a week at least and then I tell him his arms are already super impressive he says - “ You respond with a drawn out sigh when he targets a particularly sore spot, but the touch feels good, like taking a hairband off after a whole day with your hair tied up tight atop your skull. “- right, but are you still sleeping on the living room couch?”

“Yeah? Minho doesn’t have a spare room, so I stay in the living room. Well, I did prior to today.” That was probably another reason why he dragged you out, and you were grateful for the change of scenery too.

“You know Minho would give you his bed if you asked.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to give up another thing for me. He’s already helped me a lot and I don’t want to be imposing…”

“Imposing?” Felix frowns, rubbing down your shoulders to your elbow. “You’re not imposing. Trust me, if Minho didn’t want you here he wouldn’t have let you. He’s usually not that nice.”

Minho being anything but nice didn’t sound right to you. He’s never been anything short of patient and charitable to you, you’d never even seen him frustrated. It was a situation you were thankful for than you could reasonably say out loud. He gave you a semblance of peace, one you wanted to hold on to until the last bit of it ran out.

“Hey, do you want to check out the pool later?” Felix must have taken your silence as a sign to change the subject, bouncing back before your desk to look at you as he spoke. “We have spare swimming suits if you need one, but we don’t have anyone booked for the evening, and Chan usually does a few laps after closing anyway.”

In just over a week, you’d pushed more of your boundaries than the last 3 years of your life combined. The defence mechanisms you suddenly had no use for, the survival tactics you’d ingrained in yourself having no reason to show. And...it felt nice. You wanted to push more.

You wanted to be more.

***

Minho was in a conundrum.

You floated a few meters away from him, water lapping just above your waistline, dressed in a nondescript navy swimsuit he’d lent you from the gym stock pile. It fit a little loosely, and you had to keep pulling the straps up your shoulders when you swam. He distracted himself with the sight of you, and your laughter - louder than he’d ever seen you giggle, ringing deep in his heart. The fluorescent lights he’d always thought blinding bounced around your cheeks, catching on your lips when you smiled at something Jisung said.

And thus was the issue, the opposing part of his thought process. Minho had never regretted teaching Jisung his craft, telling him how to train safely and even giving him a spare key to the upper rooms where the boxing ring and offices were located; except now he did a little, whenever your dainty hands came to rest on his comparably larger shoulders. Of course, Minho knew it was only for balance in the deeper water, and perhaps a tiny part because Jisung was so damn likeable. Felix was with you too, throwing pool noodles at your heads from a distance away.

“Min? Don’t you want to come in with us?” With us, you made it sound so exclusive. It wasn’t your fault at all, you never knew of his inner battles nor the amount of effort it took to even dip his feet in the pool. You finally stepped away from Han after what felt like an eternity for him to stare at the side of your face, waddling over to where the water was shallower, where Minho sat on one of the metal ladders.

And Minho would never tell you that despite co-owning the gym and holding multiple athletic medals, he can’t actually swim.

The water was alien, unpredictable and brash against his skin even as he dipped his feet below the surface. There were no pool floats to help him here, no inflatable donuts to convoy him safely to the other side.

He shook his head vehemently. “Nah, I’m good!~”

There was no stopping you, really, after you’d found out the gym had a covered swim area on site. The other boys followed, eager to escape the stuffy boxing hall in the upper levels. Minho could understand, agree even - the heat rose through the building, and summers were unbearable even with ventilation running through the walls.

“Are you okay, Minnie?” You paddle over to where he sat, leaning your elbows against the metal steps. The water warps your curves, and he focuses all he can on the funny way your foot looks at the bottom instead of the endless wet below him. He doesn’t realise his knuckles turn white on the ladder handle until your hand rests atop his own grip, loosening his hold.

“Oh, Minho can’t swim!” Minho had never wished violence on Yang Jeongin, but he was entering a point of no return if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. “He’s too scared of the deep end to get in the water.”

“You should have said so, we didn’t have to come down…” your face meets his right away, worry creasing your forehead. You don’t remove your hand from his, and Minho suddenly realises the impact of a subtle action. Did you get goosebumps when he placed his hand on yours to reassure you some days? It was a light gesture, a comforting hold he offered to the kids in his class who fell a bit too hard and scraped an elbow.

The thought brought forth another wave of nausea in him, because he realised he definitely should have asked if you wanted to be touched at all. Just because you never shrugged him off, didn’t mean you welcomed it - he had no idea what kind of touch your last relationship had you used to. But the weight of your palm on his skin lifted the strain of these thoughts, if marginally. Minho swallows down the worry that you mirror his affections out of the thought it's what he expects of you, choosing - if for his own sake - to believe you don’t mind the contact as much as he wishes for it.

There, submerging himself up to the hips in water way colder than enjoyable temperatures would allow, Minho knows he would do a lot to make you smile again. You clap your hands excitedly when he stands away from the poolside ladder, and even though he looks undeniably awkward with his arms glued to his sides, you congratulate him as if he’s won all 12 rounds in the ring. Minho wants you to smile like that all the time - loud, with your nose scrunched and hair sticking to your forehead because you’re too excited to care and brush it back.

It’s easier to talk to you like that, when you don’t even notice you’re letting your eyes meet directly, and take his jokes without hesitation. He has to joke, to distract himself from the depths before him, and from you. Jisung’s energy must have infected you, coupled with Felix insisting on blowing up the beach balls from the storage. It would take them longer to clean up and close today than any other time, but even then, Minho couldn’t bring himself to scold the younger boys when it’s the first time he’s seen you engage so fully with other people.

You hit the ball back, bouncing off the pool waves for Jisung to throw back to you. Minho joins too, wading just a few feet further to stay close to you.

“I’ll stay ahead of you, so you know where it gets deep.” You promised, and Minho never pointed out your height being notably shorter than him, thus not being a good depth indicator at all. The fact you cared enough to look out for him made him feel more confident already.

“Alright, I’m trusting you.”

***

“Changbin I swear, if I wasn’t freezing my ass off right now you’d catch these hands.”

You are freezing, but you leave the complaining to the other boys around you in favour of rubbing yourself dry.

“How was I supposed to remember that the heating shuts off after hours! I never close!”

“You were supposed to extend the timer!” Jisung’s whining was cut off by a towel to the face, Minho crouching by the lockers to hand out pillowy cotton rags. You find yourself watching him more often, in a way you can only describe as observant. It’s partly your curiosity, and partly for the measure of safety familiarising yourself with those around you. You catalogue his mannerisms in the morning and the mugs he uses most and how chaotic he can get when he himself feels comfortable, too.

You’ve been stuck halfway for the last week, grateful for his apprehension and slow approach when speaking to you - he must have thought you to scare easily still, which wasn’t untrue. Even you couldn’t truly understand your reactions sometimes, or which move would make the hair on your arms raise so Minho’s immediate response was to walk on eggshells around you. Still, you were entering a flipside you were growing head over heels endeared by. A sense of accomplishment came over you every time Minho broke that weariness, as if it was your own victory that his character came through unbridled. You saw it unobscured right now, around the friends that so generously wrapped you in their circle too. Minho wasn’t scary, and he wasn’t a threat - you determined that statement true for now, with all things considered. But just because he didn’t actively hurt you didn’t make him immediately trustworthy, and that’s a hypothesis you were only recently testing out.

You’d all moved to the upper level now, scrambling to bundle back up in your own clothes.

“You guys go ahead, Changbin and I will lock up properly,” Minho snaps up, waving away the younger boys. “Do you need help packing?”

“No, I’ll leave my stuff here for tomorrow. You have security cameras, right?” It was surprisingly comfortable to work in the gym office, but the day left you too tired to consider doing any work at home after hours. “I’ll just have to grab my coat, is that okay?”

“I’ll wait for you downstairs, we have to check the locks.” Minho leads Changbin outside, to where you assume is the basement and storage, and when they disappear from sight you turn to enter the cubicle office.

He had plenty of chances to dig a hole under you today, but you didn’t see him attempt even once. He didn’t throw cold water at you in the pool shower, and he gave you the first towel he grabbed.

For now, the scales were in his favour.

You decided Minho was, in everything that matters, a good person.

***

You should have noticed before.

You should have definitely questioned it before, why Minho seems to always have spare snacks to give you, why there was a new hairbrush on the coffee table the morning after you mentioned your own brush had chipped teeth that pulled your hair, why you found him googling home insulation DIY’s after the pool day where you both woke up sneezing the next day.

Minho was looking after you. And what’s worse, he did it quietly, in ways you never asked for verbally.

And not only did he look after you daily, he also looked right at you. The wall-length window embedded into one of the walls offered you an unobscured view of Minho and the other gym members, both as he taught the offered classes and while entertaining himself with the various equipment. As most things glass do, this property went both ways, giving Minho an equally clear view of you throughout the day.

This was never in your way before, and you didn’t think it an obstacle to your workflow when you first assessed your new work area. But unpredicted developments arose, without blueprint or planning permission on your part, and thus you were ill prepared to deal with the implications of your present state. You have read romance novels, and watched teen drama shows, so you of course had an understanding of conventionally attractive behaviour even if it never quite caught on with you. Romance, flirting or the swooning aftermath was redundant to you for a long while, and prolonged disuse of the muscle in your chest made it lacklustre in situations as the one you were coming to terms with currently experiencing.

And Minho was extremely beautiful, which bode terribly for your workflow.

Having already gone through the embarrassing ordeal of being caught staring off screen by a student, you briefly considered asking Minho to install blinds, but the fear of him asking your reasoning shut down the idea quickly.

Yet it was increasingly a struggle to deny yourself the view outside, every time the object of your dilemmas passed your window. Maybe Netflix dramas did hold some substance, you’d begrudgingly admit, watching as Minho cleared sandbags from the training grounds. Impressive is the word you first used, for the ease he carried even the heaviest bags with, heaving them over his shoulder one by one. Fluorescent white light should have made his figure harsher, but your flatmate looked perfectly placed below them, with everything you knew about visage slamming head first into the window pane between you.

You understood now, why adverts used slow motion on models in pools and fitness marketing, closing in on every dripping muscle.

“Lunch!”

“Shit, Felix!” The door to your office quivered in its hinges with his energetic entrance, but Felix quickly made up for the tremors with a tiered box upon your desk.

“Sorry, sorry - I didn’t know you’d be occupied.” Felix lowers his head to where your face was a second ago and you instinctively back up as his ear brushes your nose. “I don’t blame you one bit, I don't know how you get any work done with a view like that.”

Before you can ask what he means, you follow his line of sight just in time for the object of your demise to catch your eye and smile.

You could have never known if you imagined his feline eyes light up for you, or if the artificial light favoured him in particular.

***

Minho wipes his hands on his sweats, glancing up to catch a breath when his eyes meet yours through the window and he’s waiting for you to smile back before he knows it.

“You’re zoning out,” Changbin’s voice interrupts his train of thought, but before he can question it, the frown on the younger man’s face silences him. “I don’t know what your whole situation is, but if it’s as fragile as you say, you’re only gonna fuck it up if you’re not careful.”

“I’m just making sure she’s fine, Bin.” There’s more annoyance in his voice than he would have liked to show, but the day wore him down anyway. “There’s nothing wrong with taking care of a friend.”

“And I’m just making sure you don’t get your feelings confused, Minho.” Changbin retorts, swiping a hand across his face

. “Don’t go around filling voids you aren’t ready for.” Taglist: @healinghyunjin @lizsvcks @glitteryskzstraykidsdream @changbinscypher @spilledtee @linours @lauvelysong @skzleeknow12

[duskyskz]

The way he cradles his cats so safely so gently I'm gonna sob

#stray kids #skz #lee minho #lee know

[duskyskz]

Changbin lying on Lino's thighs...

[duskyskz]

50/50 Chapter 3

Warnings - Toxic relationship, verbal/physical assault (NOT with main pairing), eventual smut but very very slow burn, boxer minho, trust issues reader, development on dom/sub dynamics, sex education to a degree - detailed tags to come with individual chapters.After the final straw in your patience and self confidence leads you to moving in with your neighbour, you spend months unlearning bad habits and opening doors you shut yourself out from in your last relationship.

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 3

You’ve grown to be very self-sufficient over the years, making peace with caring for your own needs only. With your particular course being online based, you could work from home for both classes and the part-time tutoring you offered to cover fees and rent. You still received a bursary to help you with books, and the leftover savings you’d stocked kept you from starving on bad days with the occasional clothing or entertainment splurge. You had slept alone most nights, even in your previous situation, and ran errands without company or even need for it.

This morning, you watched Minho place treats in the three metal bowls by the kitchen entrance, individually for each of his pets, carefully picking flavours he knew they liked. He kneels down on the tile, lowering himself all the way down to eye level with the eldest and gently bumps his nose to her forehead - in a gesture he explained earlier to you means hello, goodbye, I care for you and I’ll return soon. He slips his shoes on jogging up to you, spurring you out of your observations.“Do you have everything?”

You nod and shoulder your bag, twisting the strap as it tangled in your own spaghetti sleeve.

“Yeah, I took my charger too - Are you sure you have space for another person in the office?” You can’t help but question. Despite repeated reassurance, it’s hard for you to imagine the boxing club would have a room serene enough to gather your thoughts. But you trust Minho, and going for one day couldn’t hurt even if the time was wasted, you convinced yourself. The discomfort on your shoulder lifts before you manage to untangle the straps, your fingers left empty as Minho’s own separate the bag from your arms. It’s a brief touch, delicate and direct to the point as he slips your items onto his shoulder instead - but the contact isn’t lost on you even after you part.

“This bag is uncomfortable, come on.” The cause of your confusion is already out the door holding it open for you, and you scurry to join him. You know your bag was shit - it’s seen you through years of rushed laptop packing and heavier-than-reasonable grocery runs on days you got too caught up in the fruit selection to consider how you’d haul it all back home. Minho’s grip on the leather doesn’t budge, and your fingers twitch by your side before you can make your mind up about taking it back, but maybe it’s okay if you don’t. Minho is already a few steps down ahead of you, and you match his steps when he slows down between the floors.

You consider for the first time that self-reliance isn’t all there is. That you could exist above being just content with existing, and take steps towards a range of emotions you haven’t explored in a while. And there’s an unsure thought, betraying all the mentality of self-sufficiency you’ve built up over the years that you want to be looked after too - in a way that comes so freely, as if these affections weren’t tokens for greater means.

***

The smell of chlorine hit you like a brick wall upon entering the lower level of the building, being led past Jeongin at the reception. The building was larger than you expected - signs for an indoor pool and tennis court hung to your left, while a staircase and elevator led access to the higher floors, a cafe and the boxing area.

Minho was right - the entire second floor was open plan, with a boxing ring off-centre and a cube-shaped office space tucked away into the further corner. The space was considerable, making you think back to what you knew about his job. He teaches boxing classes to kids and young teens, and along with Chan owns the place. Felix and Jeongin switch reception duties, though the former mostly mans the cafe opposite the front desk. Hyunjin, who you met already also, is the lifeguard and swim coach - leaving Changbin as the boxing aid.

The boxing office itself was a smaller deal, painted white outside with a blue stripe running alongside the outer walls to match the design of the rest of the hall and the gym’s predominant colour. Minho left you to organise, and you caught sights of him leading a small class across the outside hall while you unpacked. Moving the papers surfaced the tension your shoulders had been harbouring for the last week, making you roll your neck with a groan. You’d just finished plugging in your laptop to run an internet speed test when a rhythmic tapping came from the door. “Yeah?”

“Hi!” Felix’s hair is more of a tangled frizz of bleach blonde, and you think it compliments his brilliant smile perfectly. “How are you settling in?”

“I’m good, Lixie.” You stretch your hands above your head, popping out sore joints. “I only took some books and my laptop, so it wasn’t hard to set up. I did have to move some older papers, though.”

“Oh, yeah - Minho took us kinda off guard when he said you’d be coming down so we didn’t have time to tidy since yesterday - Do you want me to fix that, by the way? Your back,” He clarifies, coming up to your desk.

“Oh, no - No, it’s totally fine, you don’t have to!”

“Y/n, I give the guys massages all the time, I’m practically certified. Plus - no offence, your back sounds all kinds of messed up. Are you sleeping on rocks or something?” You swallow your discomfort at the sudden space intrusion, letting the boy maneuver around the back of your chair. You weren’t prepared for physical contact today, not within this hour at least and the closeness of his breath against your hair makes it stand on ends.

“Or something, yeah…” You huff when Felix’s hands rest on your shoulders, gripping just above the collarbone.

He digs his thumbs into the muscle, dragging down, and the movement sends chills down your spine instantly. You melt into the seat, its rugged old glory welcoming your slumped form. Felix repeats the move, each touch of his hands so precise you readily believe him to have memorised all your nerve endings upon setting sight on your cramped arms. “You’re really good at this…”

“Oh, thanks! Chan works out like, all the time and he barely lays down so he gets cramps in his back once a week at least and then I tell him his arms are already super impressive he says - “ You respond with a drawn out sigh when he targets a particularly sore spot, but the touch feels good, like taking a hairband off after a whole day with your hair tied up tight atop your skull. “- right, but are you still sleeping on the living room couch?”

“Yeah? Minho doesn’t have a spare room, so I stay in the living room. Well, I did prior to today.” That was probably another reason why he dragged you out, and you were grateful for the change of scenery too.

“You know Minho would give you his bed if you asked.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to give up another thing for me. He’s already helped me a lot and I don’t want to be imposing…”

“Imposing?” Felix frowns, rubbing down your shoulders to your elbow. “You’re not imposing. Trust me, if Minho didn’t want you here he wouldn’t have let you. He’s usually not that nice.”

Minho being anything but nice didn’t sound right to you. He’s never been anything short of patient and charitable to you, you’d never even seen him frustrated. It was a situation you were thankful for than you could reasonably say out loud. He gave you a semblance of peace, one you wanted to hold on to until the last bit of it ran out.

“Hey, do you want to check out the pool later?” Felix must have taken your silence as a sign to change the subject, bouncing back before your desk to look at you as he spoke. “We have spare swimming suits if you need one, but we don’t have anyone booked for the evening, and Chan usually does a few laps after closing anyway.”

In just over a week, you’d pushed more of your boundaries than the last 3 years of your life combined. The defence mechanisms you suddenly had no use for, the survival tactics you’d ingrained in yourself having no reason to show. And...it felt nice. You wanted to push more.

You wanted to be more.

***

Minho was in a conundrum.

You floated a few meters away from him, water lapping just above your waistline, dressed in a nondescript navy swimsuit he’d lent you from the gym stock pile. It fit a little loosely, and you had to keep pulling the straps up your shoulders when you swam. He distracted himself with the sight of you, and your laughter - louder than he’d ever seen you giggle, ringing deep in his heart. The fluorescent lights he’d always thought blinding bounced around your cheeks, catching on your lips when you smiled at something Jisung said.

And thus was the issue, the opposing part of his thought process. Minho had never regretted teaching Jisung his craft, telling him how to train safely and even giving him a spare key to the upper rooms where the boxing ring and offices were located; except now he did a little, whenever your dainty hands came to rest on his comparably larger shoulders. Of course, Minho knew it was only for balance in the deeper water, and perhaps a tiny part because Jisung was so damn likeable. Felix was with you too, throwing pool noodles at your heads from a distance away.

“Min? Don’t you want to come in with us?” With us, you made it sound so exclusive. It wasn’t your fault at all, you never knew of his inner battles nor the amount of effort it took to even dip his feet in the pool. You finally stepped away from Han after what felt like an eternity for him to stare at the side of your face, waddling over to where the water was shallower, where Minho sat on one of the metal ladders.

And Minho would never tell you that despite co-owning the gym and holding multiple athletic medals, he can’t actually swim.

The water was alien, unpredictable and brash against his skin even as he dipped his feet below the surface. There were no pool floats to help him here, no inflatable donuts to convoy him safely to the other side.

He shook his head vehemently. “Nah, I’m good!~”

There was no stopping you, really, after you’d found out the gym had a covered swim area on site. The other boys followed, eager to escape the stuffy boxing hall in the upper levels. Minho could understand, agree even - the heat rose through the building, and summers were unbearable even with ventilation running through the walls.

“Are you okay, Minnie?” You paddle over to where he sat, leaning your elbows against the metal steps. The water warps your curves, and he focuses all he can on the funny way your foot looks at the bottom instead of the endless wet below him. He doesn’t realise his knuckles turn white on the ladder handle until your hand rests atop his own grip, loosening his hold.

“Oh, Minho can’t swim!” Minho had never wished violence on Yang Jeongin, but he was entering a point of no return if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. “He’s too scared of the deep end to get in the water.”

“You should have said so, we didn’t have to come down…” your face meets his right away, worry creasing your forehead. You don’t remove your hand from his, and Minho suddenly realises the impact of a subtle action. Did you get goosebumps when he placed his hand on yours to reassure you some days? It was a light gesture, a comforting hold he offered to the kids in his class who fell a bit too hard and scraped an elbow.

The thought brought forth another wave of nausea in him, because he realised he definitely should have asked if you wanted to be touched at all. Just because you never shrugged him off, didn’t mean you welcomed it - he had no idea what kind of touch your last relationship had you used to. But the weight of your palm on his skin lifted the strain of these thoughts, if marginally. Minho swallows down the worry that you mirror his affections out of the thought it's what he expects of you, choosing - if for his own sake - to believe you don’t mind the contact as much as he wishes for it.

There, submerging himself up to the hips in water way colder than enjoyable temperatures would allow, Minho knows he would do a lot to make you smile again. You clap your hands excitedly when he stands away from the poolside ladder, and even though he looks undeniably awkward with his arms glued to his sides, you congratulate him as if he’s won all 12 rounds in the ring. Minho wants you to smile like that all the time - loud, with your nose scrunched and hair sticking to your forehead because you’re too excited to care and brush it back.

It’s easier to talk to you like that, when you don’t even notice you’re letting your eyes meet directly, and take his jokes without hesitation. He has to joke, to distract himself from the depths before him, and from you. Jisung’s energy must have infected you, coupled with Felix insisting on blowing up the beach balls from the storage. It would take them longer to clean up and close today than any other time, but even then, Minho couldn’t bring himself to scold the younger boys when it’s the first time he’s seen you engage so fully with other people.

You hit the ball back, bouncing off the pool waves for Jisung to throw back to you. Minho joins too, wading just a few feet further to stay close to you.

“I’ll stay ahead of you, so you know where it gets deep.” You promised, and Minho never pointed out your height being notably shorter than him, thus not being a good depth indicator at all. The fact you cared enough to look out for him made him feel more confident already.

“Alright, I’m trusting you.”

***

“Changbin I swear, if I wasn’t freezing my ass off right now you’d catch these hands.”

You are freezing, but you leave the complaining to the other boys around you in favour of rubbing yourself dry.

“How was I supposed to remember that the heating shuts off after hours! I never close!”

“You were supposed to extend the timer!” Jisung’s whining was cut off by a towel to the face, Minho crouching by the lockers to hand out pillowy cotton rags. You find yourself watching him more often, in a way you can only describe as observant. It’s partly your curiosity, and partly for the measure of safety familiarising yourself with those around you. You catalogue his mannerisms in the morning and the mugs he uses most and how chaotic he can get when he himself feels comfortable, too.

You’ve been stuck halfway for the last week, grateful for his apprehension and slow approach when speaking to you - he must have thought you to scare easily still, which wasn’t untrue. Even you couldn’t truly understand your reactions sometimes, or which move would make the hair on your arms raise so Minho’s immediate response was to walk on eggshells around you. Still, you were entering a flipside you were growing head over heels endeared by. A sense of accomplishment came over you every time Minho broke that weariness, as if it was your own victory that his character came through unbridled. You saw it unobscured right now, around the friends that so generously wrapped you in their circle too. Minho wasn’t scary, and he wasn’t a threat - you determined that statement true for now, with all things considered. But just because he didn’t actively hurt you didn’t make him immediately trustworthy, and that’s a hypothesis you were only recently testing out.

You’d all moved to the upper level now, scrambling to bundle back up in your own clothes.

“You guys go ahead, Changbin and I will lock up properly,” Minho snaps up, waving away the younger boys. “Do you need help packing?”

“No, I’ll leave my stuff here for tomorrow. You have security cameras, right?” It was surprisingly comfortable to work in the gym office, but the day left you too tired to consider doing any work at home after hours. “I’ll just have to grab my coat, is that okay?”

“I’ll wait for you downstairs, we have to check the locks.” Minho leads Changbin outside, to where you assume is the basement and storage, and when they disappear from sight you turn to enter the cubicle office.

He had plenty of chances to dig a hole under you today, but you didn’t see him attempt even once. He didn’t throw cold water at you in the pool shower, and he gave you the first towel he grabbed.

For now, the scales were in his favour.

You decided Minho was, in everything that matters, a good person.

***

You should have noticed before.

You should have definitely questioned it before, why Minho seems to always have spare snacks to give you, why there was a new hairbrush on the coffee table the morning after you mentioned your own brush had chipped teeth that pulled your hair, why you found him googling home insulation DIY’s after the pool day where you both woke up sneezing the next day.

Minho was looking after you. And what’s worse, he did it quietly, in ways you never asked for verbally.

And not only did he look after you daily, he also looked right at you. The wall-length window embedded into one of the walls offered you an unobscured view of Minho and the other gym members, both as he taught the offered classes and while entertaining himself with the various equipment. As most things glass do, this property went both ways, giving Minho an equally clear view of you throughout the day.

This was never in your way before, and you didn’t think it an obstacle to your workflow when you first assessed your new work area. But unpredicted developments arose, without blueprint or planning permission on your part, and thus you were ill prepared to deal with the implications of your present state. You have read romance novels, and watched teen drama shows, so you of course had an understanding of conventionally attractive behaviour even if it never quite caught on with you. Romance, flirting or the swooning aftermath was redundant to you for a long while, and prolonged disuse of the muscle in your chest made it lacklustre in situations as the one you were coming to terms with currently experiencing.

And Minho was extremely beautiful, which bode terribly for your workflow.

Having already gone through the embarrassing ordeal of being caught staring off screen by a student, you briefly considered asking Minho to install blinds, but the fear of him asking your reasoning shut down the idea quickly.

Yet it was increasingly a struggle to deny yourself the view outside, every time the object of your dilemmas passed your window. Maybe Netflix dramas did hold some substance, you’d begrudgingly admit, watching as Minho cleared sandbags from the training grounds. Impressive is the word you first used, for the ease he carried even the heaviest bags with, heaving them over his shoulder one by one. Fluorescent white light should have made his figure harsher, but your flatmate looked perfectly placed below them, with everything you knew about visage slamming head first into the window pane between you.

You understood now, why adverts used slow motion on models in pools and fitness marketing, closing in on every dripping muscle.

“Lunch!”

“Shit, Felix!” The door to your office quivered in its hinges with his energetic entrance, but Felix quickly made up for the tremors with a tiered box upon your desk.

“Sorry, sorry - I didn’t know you’d be occupied.” Felix lowers his head to where your face was a second ago and you instinctively back up as his ear brushes your nose. “I don’t blame you one bit, I don't know how you get any work done with a view like that.”

Before you can ask what he means, you follow his line of sight just in time for the object of your demise to catch your eye and smile.

You could have never known if you imagined his feline eyes light up for you, or if the artificial light favoured him in particular.

***

Minho wipes his hands on his sweats, glancing up to catch a breath when his eyes meet yours through the window and he’s waiting for you to smile back before he knows it.

“You’re zoning out,” Changbin’s voice interrupts his train of thought, but before he can question it, the frown on the younger man’s face silences him. “I don’t know what your whole situation is, but if it’s as fragile as you say, you’re only gonna fuck it up if you’re not careful.”

“I’m just making sure she’s fine, Bin.” There’s more annoyance in his voice than he would have liked to show, but the day wore him down anyway. “There’s nothing wrong with taking care of a friend.”

“And I’m just making sure you don’t get your feelings confused, Minho.” Changbin retorts, swiping a hand across his face

. “Don’t go around filling voids you aren’t ready for.” Taglist: @healinghyunjin @lizsvcks @glitteryskzstraykidsdream @changbinscypher @spilledtee @linours @lauvelysong @skzleeknow12

[duskyskz]

Hi 👋, can you explain to me what this 50/50 thing is, I'm just confused, or maybe I'ma dumbass and that's just the title

it's self explanatory as you read but it will become obvious in time.

#dusky asks #50/50

[duskyskz]

50/50 Chapter 3

Warnings - Toxic relationship, verbal/physical assault (NOT with main pairing), eventual smut but very very slow burn, boxer minho, trust issues reader, development on dom/sub dynamics, sex education to a degree - detailed tags to come with individual chapters.After the final straw in your patience and self confidence leads you to moving in with your neighbour, you spend months unlearning bad habits and opening doors you shut yourself out from in your last relationship.

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 3

You’ve grown to be very self-sufficient over the years, making peace with caring for your own needs only. With your particular course being online based, you could work from home for both classes and the part-time tutoring you offered to cover fees and rent. You still received a bursary to help you with books, and the leftover savings you’d stocked kept you from starving on bad days with the occasional clothing or entertainment splurge. You had slept alone most nights, even in your previous situation, and ran errands without company or even need for it.

This morning, you watched Minho place treats in the three metal bowls by the kitchen entrance, individually for each of his pets, carefully picking flavours he knew they liked. He kneels down on the tile, lowering himself all the way down to eye level with the eldest and gently bumps his nose to her forehead - in a gesture he explained earlier to you means hello, goodbye, I care for you and I’ll return soon. He slips his shoes on jogging up to you, spurring you out of your observations.“Do you have everything?”

You nod and shoulder your bag, twisting the strap as it tangled in your own spaghetti sleeve.

“Yeah, I took my charger too - Are you sure you have space for another person in the office?” You can’t help but question. Despite repeated reassurance, it’s hard for you to imagine the boxing club would have a room serene enough to gather your thoughts. But you trust Minho, and going for one day couldn’t hurt even if the time was wasted, you convinced yourself. The discomfort on your shoulder lifts before you manage to untangle the straps, your fingers left empty as Minho’s own separate the bag from your arms. It’s a brief touch, delicate and direct to the point as he slips your items onto his shoulder instead - but the contact isn’t lost on you even after you part.

“This bag is uncomfortable, come on.” The cause of your confusion is already out the door holding it open for you, and you scurry to join him. You know your bag was shit - it’s seen you through years of rushed laptop packing and heavier-than-reasonable grocery runs on days you got too caught up in the fruit selection to consider how you’d haul it all back home. Minho’s grip on the leather doesn’t budge, and your fingers twitch by your side before you can make your mind up about taking it back, but maybe it’s okay if you don’t. Minho is already a few steps down ahead of you, and you match his steps when he slows down between the floors.

You consider for the first time that self-reliance isn’t all there is. That you could exist above being just content with existing, and take steps towards a range of emotions you haven’t explored in a while. And there’s an unsure thought, betraying all the mentality of self-sufficiency you’ve built up over the years that you want to be looked after too - in a way that comes so freely, as if these affections weren’t tokens for greater means.

***

The smell of chlorine hit you like a brick wall upon entering the lower level of the building, being led past Jeongin at the reception. The building was larger than you expected - signs for an indoor pool and tennis court hung to your left, while a staircase and elevator led access to the higher floors, a cafe and the boxing area.

Minho was right - the entire second floor was open plan, with a boxing ring off-centre and a cube-shaped office space tucked away into the further corner. The space was considerable, making you think back to what you knew about his job. He teaches boxing classes to kids and young teens, and along with Chan owns the place. Felix and Jeongin switch reception duties, though the former mostly mans the cafe opposite the front desk. Hyunjin, who you met already also, is the lifeguard and swim coach - leaving Changbin as the boxing aid.

The boxing office itself was a smaller deal, painted white outside with a blue stripe running alongside the outer walls to match the design of the rest of the hall and the gym’s predominant colour. Minho left you to organise, and you caught sights of him leading a small class across the outside hall while you unpacked. Moving the papers surfaced the tension your shoulders had been harbouring for the last week, making you roll your neck with a groan. You’d just finished plugging in your laptop to run an internet speed test when a rhythmic tapping came from the door. “Yeah?”

“Hi!” Felix’s hair is more of a tangled frizz of bleach blonde, and you think it compliments his brilliant smile perfectly. “How are you settling in?”

“I’m good, Lixie.” You stretch your hands above your head, popping out sore joints. “I only took some books and my laptop, so it wasn’t hard to set up. I did have to move some older papers, though.”

“Oh, yeah - Minho took us kinda off guard when he said you’d be coming down so we didn’t have time to tidy since yesterday - Do you want me to fix that, by the way? Your back,” He clarifies, coming up to your desk.

“Oh, no - No, it’s totally fine, you don’t have to!”

“Y/n, I give the guys massages all the time, I’m practically certified. Plus - no offence, your back sounds all kinds of messed up. Are you sleeping on rocks or something?” You swallow your discomfort at the sudden space intrusion, letting the boy maneuver around the back of your chair. You weren’t prepared for physical contact today, not within this hour at least and the closeness of his breath against your hair makes it stand on ends.

“Or something, yeah…” You huff when Felix’s hands rest on your shoulders, gripping just above the collarbone.

He digs his thumbs into the muscle, dragging down, and the movement sends chills down your spine instantly. You melt into the seat, its rugged old glory welcoming your slumped form. Felix repeats the move, each touch of his hands so precise you readily believe him to have memorised all your nerve endings upon setting sight on your cramped arms. “You’re really good at this…”

“Oh, thanks! Chan works out like, all the time and he barely lays down so he gets cramps in his back once a week at least and then I tell him his arms are already super impressive he says - “ You respond with a drawn out sigh when he targets a particularly sore spot, but the touch feels good, like taking a hairband off after a whole day with your hair tied up tight atop your skull. “- right, but are you still sleeping on the living room couch?”

“Yeah? Minho doesn’t have a spare room, so I stay in the living room. Well, I did prior to today.” That was probably another reason why he dragged you out, and you were grateful for the change of scenery too.

“You know Minho would give you his bed if you asked.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to give up another thing for me. He’s already helped me a lot and I don’t want to be imposing…”

“Imposing?” Felix frowns, rubbing down your shoulders to your elbow. “You’re not imposing. Trust me, if Minho didn’t want you here he wouldn’t have let you. He’s usually not that nice.”

Minho being anything but nice didn’t sound right to you. He’s never been anything short of patient and charitable to you, you’d never even seen him frustrated. It was a situation you were thankful for than you could reasonably say out loud. He gave you a semblance of peace, one you wanted to hold on to until the last bit of it ran out.

“Hey, do you want to check out the pool later?” Felix must have taken your silence as a sign to change the subject, bouncing back before your desk to look at you as he spoke. “We have spare swimming suits if you need one, but we don’t have anyone booked for the evening, and Chan usually does a few laps after closing anyway.”

In just over a week, you’d pushed more of your boundaries than the last 3 years of your life combined. The defence mechanisms you suddenly had no use for, the survival tactics you’d ingrained in yourself having no reason to show. And...it felt nice. You wanted to push more.

You wanted to be more.

***

Minho was in a conundrum.

You floated a few meters away from him, water lapping just above your waistline, dressed in a nondescript navy swimsuit he’d lent you from the gym stock pile. It fit a little loosely, and you had to keep pulling the straps up your shoulders when you swam. He distracted himself with the sight of you, and your laughter - louder than he’d ever seen you giggle, ringing deep in his heart. The fluorescent lights he’d always thought blinding bounced around your cheeks, catching on your lips when you smiled at something Jisung said.

And thus was the issue, the opposing part of his thought process. Minho had never regretted teaching Jisung his craft, telling him how to train safely and even giving him a spare key to the upper rooms where the boxing ring and offices were located; except now he did a little, whenever your dainty hands came to rest on his comparably larger shoulders. Of course, Minho knew it was only for balance in the deeper water, and perhaps a tiny part because Jisung was so damn likeable. Felix was with you too, throwing pool noodles at your heads from a distance away.

“Min? Don’t you want to come in with us?” With us, you made it sound so exclusive. It wasn’t your fault at all, you never knew of his inner battles nor the amount of effort it took to even dip his feet in the pool. You finally stepped away from Han after what felt like an eternity for him to stare at the side of your face, waddling over to where the water was shallower, where Minho sat on one of the metal ladders.

And Minho would never tell you that despite co-owning the gym and holding multiple athletic medals, he can’t actually swim.

The water was alien, unpredictable and brash against his skin even as he dipped his feet below the surface. There were no pool floats to help him here, no inflatable donuts to convoy him safely to the other side.

He shook his head vehemently. “Nah, I’m good!~”

There was no stopping you, really, after you’d found out the gym had a covered swim area on site. The other boys followed, eager to escape the stuffy boxing hall in the upper levels. Minho could understand, agree even - the heat rose through the building, and summers were unbearable even with ventilation running through the walls.

“Are you okay, Minnie?” You paddle over to where he sat, leaning your elbows against the metal steps. The water warps your curves, and he focuses all he can on the funny way your foot looks at the bottom instead of the endless wet below him. He doesn’t realise his knuckles turn white on the ladder handle until your hand rests atop his own grip, loosening his hold.

“Oh, Minho can’t swim!” Minho had never wished violence on Yang Jeongin, but he was entering a point of no return if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. “He’s too scared of the deep end to get in the water.”

“You should have said so, we didn’t have to come down…” your face meets his right away, worry creasing your forehead. You don’t remove your hand from his, and Minho suddenly realises the impact of a subtle action. Did you get goosebumps when he placed his hand on yours to reassure you some days? It was a light gesture, a comforting hold he offered to the kids in his class who fell a bit too hard and scraped an elbow.

The thought brought forth another wave of nausea in him, because he realised he definitely should have asked if you wanted to be touched at all. Just because you never shrugged him off, didn’t mean you welcomed it - he had no idea what kind of touch your last relationship had you used to. But the weight of your palm on his skin lifted the strain of these thoughts, if marginally. Minho swallows down the worry that you mirror his affections out of the thought it's what he expects of you, choosing - if for his own sake - to believe you don’t mind the contact as much as he wishes for it.

There, submerging himself up to the hips in water way colder than enjoyable temperatures would allow, Minho knows he would do a lot to make you smile again. You clap your hands excitedly when he stands away from the poolside ladder, and even though he looks undeniably awkward with his arms glued to his sides, you congratulate him as if he’s won all 12 rounds in the ring. Minho wants you to smile like that all the time - loud, with your nose scrunched and hair sticking to your forehead because you’re too excited to care and brush it back.

It’s easier to talk to you like that, when you don’t even notice you’re letting your eyes meet directly, and take his jokes without hesitation. He has to joke, to distract himself from the depths before him, and from you. Jisung’s energy must have infected you, coupled with Felix insisting on blowing up the beach balls from the storage. It would take them longer to clean up and close today than any other time, but even then, Minho couldn’t bring himself to scold the younger boys when it’s the first time he’s seen you engage so fully with other people.

You hit the ball back, bouncing off the pool waves for Jisung to throw back to you. Minho joins too, wading just a few feet further to stay close to you.

“I’ll stay ahead of you, so you know where it gets deep.” You promised, and Minho never pointed out your height being notably shorter than him, thus not being a good depth indicator at all. The fact you cared enough to look out for him made him feel more confident already.

“Alright, I’m trusting you.”

***

“Changbin I swear, if I wasn’t freezing my ass off right now you’d catch these hands.”

You are freezing, but you leave the complaining to the other boys around you in favour of rubbing yourself dry.

“How was I supposed to remember that the heating shuts off after hours! I never close!”

“You were supposed to extend the timer!” Jisung’s whining was cut off by a towel to the face, Minho crouching by the lockers to hand out pillowy cotton rags. You find yourself watching him more often, in a way you can only describe as observant. It’s partly your curiosity, and partly for the measure of safety familiarising yourself with those around you. You catalogue his mannerisms in the morning and the mugs he uses most and how chaotic he can get when he himself feels comfortable, too.

You’ve been stuck halfway for the last week, grateful for his apprehension and slow approach when speaking to you - he must have thought you to scare easily still, which wasn’t untrue. Even you couldn’t truly understand your reactions sometimes, or which move would make the hair on your arms raise so Minho’s immediate response was to walk on eggshells around you. Still, you were entering a flipside you were growing head over heels endeared by. A sense of accomplishment came over you every time Minho broke that weariness, as if it was your own victory that his character came through unbridled. You saw it unobscured right now, around the friends that so generously wrapped you in their circle too. Minho wasn’t scary, and he wasn’t a threat - you determined that statement true for now, with all things considered. But just because he didn’t actively hurt you didn’t make him immediately trustworthy, and that’s a hypothesis you were only recently testing out.

You’d all moved to the upper level now, scrambling to bundle back up in your own clothes.

“You guys go ahead, Changbin and I will lock up properly,” Minho snaps up, waving away the younger boys. “Do you need help packing?”

“No, I’ll leave my stuff here for tomorrow. You have security cameras, right?” It was surprisingly comfortable to work in the gym office, but the day left you too tired to consider doing any work at home after hours. “I’ll just have to grab my coat, is that okay?”

“I’ll wait for you downstairs, we have to check the locks.” Minho leads Changbin outside, to where you assume is the basement and storage, and when they disappear from sight you turn to enter the cubicle office.

He had plenty of chances to dig a hole under you today, but you didn’t see him attempt even once. He didn’t throw cold water at you in the pool shower, and he gave you the first towel he grabbed.

For now, the scales were in his favour.

You decided Minho was, in everything that matters, a good person.

***

You should have noticed before.

You should have definitely questioned it before, why Minho seems to always have spare snacks to give you, why there was a new hairbrush on the coffee table the morning after you mentioned your own brush had chipped teeth that pulled your hair, why you found him googling home insulation DIY’s after the pool day where you both woke up sneezing the next day.

Minho was looking after you. And what’s worse, he did it quietly, in ways you never asked for verbally.

And not only did he look after you daily, he also looked right at you. The wall-length window embedded into one of the walls offered you an unobscured view of Minho and the other gym members, both as he taught the offered classes and while entertaining himself with the various equipment. As most things glass do, this property went both ways, giving Minho an equally clear view of you throughout the day.

This was never in your way before, and you didn’t think it an obstacle to your workflow when you first assessed your new work area. But unpredicted developments arose, without blueprint or planning permission on your part, and thus you were ill prepared to deal with the implications of your present state. You have read romance novels, and watched teen drama shows, so you of course had an understanding of conventionally attractive behaviour even if it never quite caught on with you. Romance, flirting or the swooning aftermath was redundant to you for a long while, and prolonged disuse of the muscle in your chest made it lacklustre in situations as the one you were coming to terms with currently experiencing.

And Minho was extremely beautiful, which bode terribly for your workflow.

Having already gone through the embarrassing ordeal of being caught staring off screen by a student, you briefly considered asking Minho to install blinds, but the fear of him asking your reasoning shut down the idea quickly.

Yet it was increasingly a struggle to deny yourself the view outside, every time the object of your dilemmas passed your window. Maybe Netflix dramas did hold some substance, you’d begrudgingly admit, watching as Minho cleared sandbags from the training grounds. Impressive is the word you first used, for the ease he carried even the heaviest bags with, heaving them over his shoulder one by one. Fluorescent white light should have made his figure harsher, but your flatmate looked perfectly placed below them, with everything you knew about visage slamming head first into the window pane between you.

You understood now, why adverts used slow motion on models in pools and fitness marketing, closing in on every dripping muscle.

“Lunch!”

“Shit, Felix!” The door to your office quivered in its hinges with his energetic entrance, but Felix quickly made up for the tremors with a tiered box upon your desk.

“Sorry, sorry - I didn’t know you’d be occupied.” Felix lowers his head to where your face was a second ago and you instinctively back up as his ear brushes your nose. “I don’t blame you one bit, I don't know how you get any work done with a view like that.”

Before you can ask what he means, you follow his line of sight just in time for the object of your demise to catch your eye and smile.

You could have never known if you imagined his feline eyes light up for you, or if the artificial light favoured him in particular.

***

Minho wipes his hands on his sweats, glancing up to catch a breath when his eyes meet yours through the window and he’s waiting for you to smile back before he knows it.

“You’re zoning out,” Changbin’s voice interrupts his train of thought, but before he can question it, the frown on the younger man’s face silences him. “I don’t know what your whole situation is, but if it’s as fragile as you say, you’re only gonna fuck it up if you’re not careful.”

“I’m just making sure she’s fine, Bin.” There’s more annoyance in his voice than he would have liked to show, but the day wore him down anyway. “There’s nothing wrong with taking care of a friend.”

“And I’m just making sure you don’t get your feelings confused, Minho.” Changbin retorts, swiping a hand across his face

. “Don’t go around filling voids you aren’t ready for.” Taglist: @healinghyunjin @lizsvcks @glitteryskzstraykidsdream @changbinscypher @spilledtee @linours @lauvelysong @skzleeknow12

[duskyskz]

50/50 Chapter 3

Warnings - Toxic relationship, verbal/physical assault (NOT with main pairing), eventual smut but very very slow burn, boxer minho, trust issues reader, development on dom/sub dynamics, sex education to a degree - detailed tags to come with individual chapters.After the final straw in your patience and self confidence leads you to moving in with your neighbour, you spend months unlearning bad habits and opening doors you shut yourself out from in your last relationship.

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 3

You’ve grown to be very self-sufficient over the years, making peace with caring for your own needs only. With your particular course being online based, you could work from home for both classes and the part-time tutoring you offered to cover fees and rent. You still received a bursary to help you with books, and the leftover savings you’d stocked kept you from starving on bad days with the occasional clothing or entertainment splurge. You had slept alone most nights, even in your previous situation, and ran errands without company or even need for it.

This morning, you watched Minho place treats in the three metal bowls by the kitchen entrance, individually for each of his pets, carefully picking flavours he knew they liked. He kneels down on the tile, lowering himself all the way down to eye level with the eldest and gently bumps his nose to her forehead - in a gesture he explained earlier to you means hello, goodbye, I care for you and I’ll return soon. He slips his shoes on jogging up to you, spurring you out of your observations.“Do you have everything?”

You nod and shoulder your bag, twisting the strap as it tangled in your own spaghetti sleeve.

“Yeah, I took my charger too - Are you sure you have space for another person in the office?” You can’t help but question. Despite repeated reassurance, it’s hard for you to imagine the boxing club would have a room serene enough to gather your thoughts. But you trust Minho, and going for one day couldn’t hurt even if the time was wasted, you convinced yourself. The discomfort on your shoulder lifts before you manage to untangle the straps, your fingers left empty as Minho’s own separate the bag from your arms. It’s a brief touch, delicate and direct to the point as he slips your items onto his shoulder instead - but the contact isn’t lost on you even after you part.

“This bag is uncomfortable, come on.” The cause of your confusion is already out the door holding it open for you, and you scurry to join him. You know your bag was shit - it’s seen you through years of rushed laptop packing and heavier-than-reasonable grocery runs on days you got too caught up in the fruit selection to consider how you’d haul it all back home. Minho’s grip on the leather doesn’t budge, and your fingers twitch by your side before you can make your mind up about taking it back, but maybe it’s okay if you don’t. Minho is already a few steps down ahead of you, and you match his steps when he slows down between the floors.

You consider for the first time that self-reliance isn’t all there is. That you could exist above being just content with existing, and take steps towards a range of emotions you haven’t explored in a while. And there’s an unsure thought, betraying all the mentality of self-sufficiency you’ve built up over the years that you want to be looked after too - in a way that comes so freely, as if these affections weren’t tokens for greater means.

***

The smell of chlorine hit you like a brick wall upon entering the lower level of the building, being led past Jeongin at the reception. The building was larger than you expected - signs for an indoor pool and tennis court hung to your left, while a staircase and elevator led access to the higher floors, a cafe and the boxing area.

Minho was right - the entire second floor was open plan, with a boxing ring off-centre and a cube-shaped office space tucked away into the further corner. The space was considerable, making you think back to what you knew about his job. He teaches boxing classes to kids and young teens, and along with Chan owns the place. Felix and Jeongin switch reception duties, though the former mostly mans the cafe opposite the front desk. Hyunjin, who you met already also, is the lifeguard and swim coach - leaving Changbin as the boxing aid.

The boxing office itself was a smaller deal, painted white outside with a blue stripe running alongside the outer walls to match the design of the rest of the hall and the gym’s predominant colour. Minho left you to organise, and you caught sights of him leading a small class across the outside hall while you unpacked. Moving the papers surfaced the tension your shoulders had been harbouring for the last week, making you roll your neck with a groan. You’d just finished plugging in your laptop to run an internet speed test when a rhythmic tapping came from the door. “Yeah?”

“Hi!” Felix’s hair is more of a tangled frizz of bleach blonde, and you think it compliments his brilliant smile perfectly. “How are you settling in?”

“I’m good, Lixie.” You stretch your hands above your head, popping out sore joints. “I only took some books and my laptop, so it wasn’t hard to set up. I did have to move some older papers, though.”

“Oh, yeah - Minho took us kinda off guard when he said you’d be coming down so we didn’t have time to tidy since yesterday - Do you want me to fix that, by the way? Your back,” He clarifies, coming up to your desk.

“Oh, no - No, it’s totally fine, you don’t have to!”

“Y/n, I give the guys massages all the time, I’m practically certified. Plus - no offence, your back sounds all kinds of messed up. Are you sleeping on rocks or something?” You swallow your discomfort at the sudden space intrusion, letting the boy maneuver around the back of your chair. You weren’t prepared for physical contact today, not within this hour at least and the closeness of his breath against your hair makes it stand on ends.

“Or something, yeah…” You huff when Felix’s hands rest on your shoulders, gripping just above the collarbone.

He digs his thumbs into the muscle, dragging down, and the movement sends chills down your spine instantly. You melt into the seat, its rugged old glory welcoming your slumped form. Felix repeats the move, each touch of his hands so precise you readily believe him to have memorised all your nerve endings upon setting sight on your cramped arms. “You’re really good at this…”

“Oh, thanks! Chan works out like, all the time and he barely lays down so he gets cramps in his back once a week at least and then I tell him his arms are already super impressive he says - “ You respond with a drawn out sigh when he targets a particularly sore spot, but the touch feels good, like taking a hairband off after a whole day with your hair tied up tight atop your skull. “- right, but are you still sleeping on the living room couch?”

“Yeah? Minho doesn’t have a spare room, so I stay in the living room. Well, I did prior to today.” That was probably another reason why he dragged you out, and you were grateful for the change of scenery too.

“You know Minho would give you his bed if you asked.”

“I know, but I don’t want him to give up another thing for me. He’s already helped me a lot and I don’t want to be imposing…”

“Imposing?” Felix frowns, rubbing down your shoulders to your elbow. “You’re not imposing. Trust me, if Minho didn’t want you here he wouldn’t have let you. He’s usually not that nice.”

Minho being anything but nice didn’t sound right to you. He’s never been anything short of patient and charitable to you, you’d never even seen him frustrated. It was a situation you were thankful for than you could reasonably say out loud. He gave you a semblance of peace, one you wanted to hold on to until the last bit of it ran out.

“Hey, do you want to check out the pool later?” Felix must have taken your silence as a sign to change the subject, bouncing back before your desk to look at you as he spoke. “We have spare swimming suits if you need one, but we don’t have anyone booked for the evening, and Chan usually does a few laps after closing anyway.”

In just over a week, you’d pushed more of your boundaries than the last 3 years of your life combined. The defence mechanisms you suddenly had no use for, the survival tactics you’d ingrained in yourself having no reason to show. And...it felt nice. You wanted to push more.

You wanted to be more.

***

Minho was in a conundrum.

You floated a few meters away from him, water lapping just above your waistline, dressed in a nondescript navy swimsuit he’d lent you from the gym stock pile. It fit a little loosely, and you had to keep pulling the straps up your shoulders when you swam. He distracted himself with the sight of you, and your laughter - louder than he’d ever seen you giggle, ringing deep in his heart. The fluorescent lights he’d always thought blinding bounced around your cheeks, catching on your lips when you smiled at something Jisung said.

And thus was the issue, the opposing part of his thought process. Minho had never regretted teaching Jisung his craft, telling him how to train safely and even giving him a spare key to the upper rooms where the boxing ring and offices were located; except now he did a little, whenever your dainty hands came to rest on his comparably larger shoulders. Of course, Minho knew it was only for balance in the deeper water, and perhaps a tiny part because Jisung was so damn likeable. Felix was with you too, throwing pool noodles at your heads from a distance away.

“Min? Don’t you want to come in with us?” With us, you made it sound so exclusive. It wasn’t your fault at all, you never knew of his inner battles nor the amount of effort it took to even dip his feet in the pool. You finally stepped away from Han after what felt like an eternity for him to stare at the side of your face, waddling over to where the water was shallower, where Minho sat on one of the metal ladders.

And Minho would never tell you that despite co-owning the gym and holding multiple athletic medals, he can’t actually swim.

The water was alien, unpredictable and brash against his skin even as he dipped his feet below the surface. There were no pool floats to help him here, no inflatable donuts to convoy him safely to the other side.

He shook his head vehemently. “Nah, I’m good!~”

There was no stopping you, really, after you’d found out the gym had a covered swim area on site. The other boys followed, eager to escape the stuffy boxing hall in the upper levels. Minho could understand, agree even - the heat rose through the building, and summers were unbearable even with ventilation running through the walls.

“Are you okay, Minnie?” You paddle over to where he sat, leaning your elbows against the metal steps. The water warps your curves, and he focuses all he can on the funny way your foot looks at the bottom instead of the endless wet below him. He doesn’t realise his knuckles turn white on the ladder handle until your hand rests atop his own grip, loosening his hold.

“Oh, Minho can’t swim!” Minho had never wished violence on Yang Jeongin, but he was entering a point of no return if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. “He’s too scared of the deep end to get in the water.”

“You should have said so, we didn’t have to come down…” your face meets his right away, worry creasing your forehead. You don’t remove your hand from his, and Minho suddenly realises the impact of a subtle action. Did you get goosebumps when he placed his hand on yours to reassure you some days? It was a light gesture, a comforting hold he offered to the kids in his class who fell a bit too hard and scraped an elbow.

The thought brought forth another wave of nausea in him, because he realised he definitely should have asked if you wanted to be touched at all. Just because you never shrugged him off, didn’t mean you welcomed it - he had no idea what kind of touch your last relationship had you used to. But the weight of your palm on his skin lifted the strain of these thoughts, if marginally. Minho swallows down the worry that you mirror his affections out of the thought it's what he expects of you, choosing - if for his own sake - to believe you don’t mind the contact as much as he wishes for it.

There, submerging himself up to the hips in water way colder than enjoyable temperatures would allow, Minho knows he would do a lot to make you smile again. You clap your hands excitedly when he stands away from the poolside ladder, and even though he looks undeniably awkward with his arms glued to his sides, you congratulate him as if he’s won all 12 rounds in the ring. Minho wants you to smile like that all the time - loud, with your nose scrunched and hair sticking to your forehead because you’re too excited to care and brush it back.

It’s easier to talk to you like that, when you don’t even notice you’re letting your eyes meet directly, and take his jokes without hesitation. He has to joke, to distract himself from the depths before him, and from you. Jisung’s energy must have infected you, coupled with Felix insisting on blowing up the beach balls from the storage. It would take them longer to clean up and close today than any other time, but even then, Minho couldn’t bring himself to scold the younger boys when it’s the first time he’s seen you engage so fully with other people.

You hit the ball back, bouncing off the pool waves for Jisung to throw back to you. Minho joins too, wading just a few feet further to stay close to you.

“I’ll stay ahead of you, so you know where it gets deep.” You promised, and Minho never pointed out your height being notably shorter than him, thus not being a good depth indicator at all. The fact you cared enough to look out for him made him feel more confident already.

“Alright, I’m trusting you.”

***

“Changbin I swear, if I wasn’t freezing my ass off right now you’d catch these hands.”

You are freezing, but you leave the complaining to the other boys around you in favour of rubbing yourself dry.

“How was I supposed to remember that the heating shuts off after hours! I never close!”

“You were supposed to extend the timer!” Jisung’s whining was cut off by a towel to the face, Minho crouching by the lockers to hand out pillowy cotton rags. You find yourself watching him more often, in a way you can only describe as observant. It’s partly your curiosity, and partly for the measure of safety familiarising yourself with those around you. You catalogue his mannerisms in the morning and the mugs he uses most and how chaotic he can get when he himself feels comfortable, too.

You’ve been stuck halfway for the last week, grateful for his apprehension and slow approach when speaking to you - he must have thought you to scare easily still, which wasn’t untrue. Even you couldn’t truly understand your reactions sometimes, or which move would make the hair on your arms raise so Minho’s immediate response was to walk on eggshells around you. Still, you were entering a flipside you were growing head over heels endeared by. A sense of accomplishment came over you every time Minho broke that weariness, as if it was your own victory that his character came through unbridled. You saw it unobscured right now, around the friends that so generously wrapped you in their circle too. Minho wasn’t scary, and he wasn’t a threat - you determined that statement true for now, with all things considered. But just because he didn’t actively hurt you didn’t make him immediately trustworthy, and that’s a hypothesis you were only recently testing out.

You’d all moved to the upper level now, scrambling to bundle back up in your own clothes.

“You guys go ahead, Changbin and I will lock up properly,” Minho snaps up, waving away the younger boys. “Do you need help packing?”

“No, I’ll leave my stuff here for tomorrow. You have security cameras, right?” It was surprisingly comfortable to work in the gym office, but the day left you too tired to consider doing any work at home after hours. “I’ll just have to grab my coat, is that okay?”

“I’ll wait for you downstairs, we have to check the locks.” Minho leads Changbin outside, to where you assume is the basement and storage, and when they disappear from sight you turn to enter the cubicle office.

He had plenty of chances to dig a hole under you today, but you didn’t see him attempt even once. He didn’t throw cold water at you in the pool shower, and he gave you the first towel he grabbed.

For now, the scales were in his favour.

You decided Minho was, in everything that matters, a good person.

***

You should have noticed before.

You should have definitely questioned it before, why Minho seems to always have spare snacks to give you, why there was a new hairbrush on the coffee table the morning after you mentioned your own brush had chipped teeth that pulled your hair, why you found him googling home insulation DIY’s after the pool day where you both woke up sneezing the next day.

Minho was looking after you. And what’s worse, he did it quietly, in ways you never asked for verbally.

And not only did he look after you daily, he also looked right at you. The wall-length window embedded into one of the walls offered you an unobscured view of Minho and the other gym members, both as he taught the offered classes and while entertaining himself with the various equipment. As most things glass do, this property went both ways, giving Minho an equally clear view of you throughout the day.

This was never in your way before, and you didn’t think it an obstacle to your workflow when you first assessed your new work area. But unpredicted developments arose, without blueprint or planning permission on your part, and thus you were ill prepared to deal with the implications of your present state. You have read romance novels, and watched teen drama shows, so you of course had an understanding of conventionally attractive behaviour even if it never quite caught on with you. Romance, flirting or the swooning aftermath was redundant to you for a long while, and prolonged disuse of the muscle in your chest made it lacklustre in situations as the one you were coming to terms with currently experiencing.

And Minho was extremely beautiful, which bode terribly for your workflow.

Having already gone through the embarrassing ordeal of being caught staring off screen by a student, you briefly considered asking Minho to install blinds, but the fear of him asking your reasoning shut down the idea quickly.

Yet it was increasingly a struggle to deny yourself the view outside, every time the object of your dilemmas passed your window. Maybe Netflix dramas did hold some substance, you’d begrudgingly admit, watching as Minho cleared sandbags from the training grounds. Impressive is the word you first used, for the ease he carried even the heaviest bags with, heaving them over his shoulder one by one. Fluorescent white light should have made his figure harsher, but your flatmate looked perfectly placed below them, with everything you knew about visage slamming head first into the window pane between you.

You understood now, why adverts used slow motion on models in pools and fitness marketing, closing in on every dripping muscle.

“Lunch!”

“Shit, Felix!” The door to your office quivered in its hinges with his energetic entrance, but Felix quickly made up for the tremors with a tiered box upon your desk.

“Sorry, sorry - I didn’t know you’d be occupied.” Felix lowers his head to where your face was a second ago and you instinctively back up as his ear brushes your nose. “I don’t blame you one bit, I don't know how you get any work done with a view like that.”

Before you can ask what he means, you follow his line of sight just in time for the object of your demise to catch your eye and smile.

You could have never known if you imagined his feline eyes light up for you, or if the artificial light favoured him in particular.

***

Minho wipes his hands on his sweats, glancing up to catch a breath when his eyes meet yours through the window and he’s waiting for you to smile back before he knows it.

“You’re zoning out,” Changbin’s voice interrupts his train of thought, but before he can question it, the frown on the younger man’s face silences him. “I don’t know what your whole situation is, but if it’s as fragile as you say, you’re only gonna fuck it up if you’re not careful.”

“I’m just making sure she’s fine, Bin.” There’s more annoyance in his voice than he would have liked to show, but the day wore him down anyway. “There’s nothing wrong with taking care of a friend.”

“And I’m just making sure you don’t get your feelings confused, Minho.” Changbin retorts, swiping a hand across his face.

“Don’t go around filling voids you aren’t ready for.” Taglist: @healinghyunjin @lizsvcks @glitteryskzstraykidsdream @changbinscypher @spilledtee @linours @lauvelysong @skzleeknow12

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