Map
Title: Map
Pairing: Minho/Key
Rating: G - drabble
A/N: Another minkey late night drabble. It’s 5:30am and I should force myself to sleep. Bleh.
--
Key couldn’t sleep.
Again.
Anxiety had taken a firm grip on him and eaten him from the inside out; he had gotten into the bedroom with full intents of sleeping, but that was as far as he got. There was laundry to be folded, shoes to be organized, his face needed to be washed and his hair needed to be brushed and his teeth needed to be cleaned.
A few chores that should have taken thirty minutes, maximum.
He had started doing them at around 1:30am.
He had finished at 1:54am.
It was now 4:57am and he was sitting in the living room wrapped up in a blanket, staring at the sliding doors that lead to the outside world of their balcony. It was rainy, it was cloudy and stormy and Key had a bit of a fear of storms - they fascinated him and alarmed him at the same time. That was probably why he couldn’t sleep.
He was trying to ignore the knot of anxiety that was settled deep within his stomach.
He watched as the rain spattered against the glass, how it dripped down in rivulets and made clear, abstract paintings. He watched each drop of water come barreling down from the clouds, smack into the door, and then drip down to soak the wood of their balcony. The plants that he had out there were getting the much-needed water, but the patio furniture was soaked. He had forgotten to bring in the cushions when it got cloudy.
It hadn’t even been that busy of a day. Typical schedule, working on the new album, getting stalked by paparazzi everywhere. He had come home feeling none too stressed and he had carried out his chores but sleep eluded him.
Anxiety took ahold of him.
Why was he so lost?
Closing his eyes, he listened to the rain that crashed against the glass door with sharp pangs, sounding like a drum that was going to its own beat. His ears absorbed the sound, his ears trained on the wind that whipped through.
His eyes opened when he felt Minho sit next to him.
He didn’t need to look, to know it was Minho.
No one else would be up at 5am wondering why Key was sitting out on the couch.
The anxious knot in Key’s stomach tightened and convulsed and sent a ripple of pain throughout Key’s limbs but he suppressed any noise, he ignored it, and the glanced over at the taller rapper.
Minho didn’t say anything; he opened up the blanket and snuggled up next to Key, guiding the slightly older boy’s head to rest on his shoulder. Minho rested his cheek atop Key’s head and stared out at the rain, too, and they sat in silence for a few peaceful moments.
“How do you always find me?” Key asked, not removing his gaze from the door.
“I wake up after a while when my body realizes you aren’t there,” Minho responds easily.
“I keep losing myself,” Key said, sounding a bit far-off and distracted. “I keep losing myself and I can’t find me. You find me, though. How do you do it?”
The shoulder that Key wasn’t leaning on shifted in a shrug, “I know where to look.”
At that, Key sat up and turned to look at Minho, searching the taller boys’ face. He was smiling lazily, fondly, but Key’s face was fixed in concentration, deep in thought.
“Are you lost?” Key asked.
Minho seemed to weigh the question. “I’m not lost at all when I’m with you.”
The anxious knot in Key’s belly started to unfurl.
“Are you still lost?” Minho asked this time, reaching up to gently cup Key’s face.
Key nuzzled into the touch and fluttered his eyes for a second, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think you’ve found me.”
“Next time you get lost,” Minho guided Key’s face towards his own, brushing their noses together, making Key giggle. “Let met get lost with you. I’ve got a map. And you’ve got a key.”
The smile on Key’s face widened as the Suns’ first rays started to creep into the room, casting an orange glow over Minho’s features and lighting up his big eyes in such a way that it felt like Key was looking into them for the first time.
“You’d get lost with me, wherever I go?” Key pressed his forehead lightly against Minho’s.
“You need the company,” Minho murmured, brushing his thumb along Key’s cheek gently. “I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth.”
Key glanced out at the sunrise, “What if we went to a place where the Sun doesn’t rise at all? Where it was dark all the time?”
“Then you’d be in your element, wouldn’t you?” Minho retorted.
“I think you look prettiest in the Sun.”
“I think you look prettiest in the moon light.”
Key fell silent and blushed slightly. “You’re supposed to say I’m pretty all of the time.”
“That too,” Minho chuckled and brought Key to his chest.
“I’m still lost, Minho.” Key sighed and closed his eyes.
Minho ran his fingers through Key’s hair, “But you’re not alone.”
“Have I ever been?”
The slightly younger boy chuckled and shook his head, “No. Why do you think I keep sacrificing my sleep schedule to come and drag you back to bed?”
“You don’t have to,” Key huffed.
“But I want to.”
Silence settled over them once again, and Key stared numbly out at the rain, listening to Minho’s heart beat.
“Thank you,” Key finally said softly, his voice muffled by Minho’s t-shirt.
Minho smiled and ran his fingers through Key’s hair, “No… thank you.”
Key smiled lightly.
For a week straight Minho had clambered out of bed after Key to drag him back and get him to sleep, for a week straight Key had pondered the meaning of life, for a week straight Key had wondered when he had started to feel so lost.
For a week Minho had been guiding him back to safety.
For a week Minho had been holding his hand.
It took Key an entire week to fully comprehend that Minho was the meaning of his life…
And that he’d rather spend his sleepless nights being dragged back to bed by Minho, than by himself, lost and alone.
He couldn’t find his way to bed without a map.
Pairing: Minho/Key
Rating: G - drabble
A/N: Another minkey late night drabble. It’s 5:30am and I should force myself to sleep. Bleh.
--
Key couldn’t sleep.
Again.
Anxiety had taken a firm grip on him and eaten him from the inside out; he had gotten into the bedroom with full intents of sleeping, but that was as far as he got. There was laundry to be folded, shoes to be organized, his face needed to be washed and his hair needed to be brushed and his teeth needed to be cleaned.
A few chores that should have taken thirty minutes, maximum.
He had started doing them at around 1:30am.
He had finished at 1:54am.
It was now 4:57am and he was sitting in the living room wrapped up in a blanket, staring at the sliding doors that lead to the outside world of their balcony. It was rainy, it was cloudy and stormy and Key had a bit of a fear of storms - they fascinated him and alarmed him at the same time. That was probably why he couldn’t sleep.
He was trying to ignore the knot of anxiety that was settled deep within his stomach.
He watched as the rain spattered against the glass, how it dripped down in rivulets and made clear, abstract paintings. He watched each drop of water come barreling down from the clouds, smack into the door, and then drip down to soak the wood of their balcony. The plants that he had out there were getting the much-needed water, but the patio furniture was soaked. He had forgotten to bring in the cushions when it got cloudy.
It hadn’t even been that busy of a day. Typical schedule, working on the new album, getting stalked by paparazzi everywhere. He had come home feeling none too stressed and he had carried out his chores but sleep eluded him.
Anxiety took ahold of him.
Why was he so lost?
Closing his eyes, he listened to the rain that crashed against the glass door with sharp pangs, sounding like a drum that was going to its own beat. His ears absorbed the sound, his ears trained on the wind that whipped through.
His eyes opened when he felt Minho sit next to him.
He didn’t need to look, to know it was Minho.
No one else would be up at 5am wondering why Key was sitting out on the couch.
The anxious knot in Key’s stomach tightened and convulsed and sent a ripple of pain throughout Key’s limbs but he suppressed any noise, he ignored it, and the glanced over at the taller rapper.
Minho didn’t say anything; he opened up the blanket and snuggled up next to Key, guiding the slightly older boy’s head to rest on his shoulder. Minho rested his cheek atop Key’s head and stared out at the rain, too, and they sat in silence for a few peaceful moments.
“How do you always find me?” Key asked, not removing his gaze from the door.
“I wake up after a while when my body realizes you aren’t there,” Minho responds easily.
“I keep losing myself,” Key said, sounding a bit far-off and distracted. “I keep losing myself and I can’t find me. You find me, though. How do you do it?”
The shoulder that Key wasn’t leaning on shifted in a shrug, “I know where to look.”
At that, Key sat up and turned to look at Minho, searching the taller boys’ face. He was smiling lazily, fondly, but Key’s face was fixed in concentration, deep in thought.
“Are you lost?” Key asked.
Minho seemed to weigh the question. “I’m not lost at all when I’m with you.”
The anxious knot in Key’s belly started to unfurl.
“Are you still lost?” Minho asked this time, reaching up to gently cup Key’s face.
Key nuzzled into the touch and fluttered his eyes for a second, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think you’ve found me.”
“Next time you get lost,” Minho guided Key’s face towards his own, brushing their noses together, making Key giggle. “Let met get lost with you. I’ve got a map. And you’ve got a key.”
The smile on Key’s face widened as the Suns’ first rays started to creep into the room, casting an orange glow over Minho’s features and lighting up his big eyes in such a way that it felt like Key was looking into them for the first time.
“You’d get lost with me, wherever I go?” Key pressed his forehead lightly against Minho’s.
“You need the company,” Minho murmured, brushing his thumb along Key’s cheek gently. “I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth.”
Key glanced out at the sunrise, “What if we went to a place where the Sun doesn’t rise at all? Where it was dark all the time?”
“Then you’d be in your element, wouldn’t you?” Minho retorted.
“I think you look prettiest in the Sun.”
“I think you look prettiest in the moon light.”
Key fell silent and blushed slightly. “You’re supposed to say I’m pretty all of the time.”
“That too,” Minho chuckled and brought Key to his chest.
“I’m still lost, Minho.” Key sighed and closed his eyes.
Minho ran his fingers through Key’s hair, “But you’re not alone.”
“Have I ever been?”
The slightly younger boy chuckled and shook his head, “No. Why do you think I keep sacrificing my sleep schedule to come and drag you back to bed?”
“You don’t have to,” Key huffed.
“But I want to.”
Silence settled over them once again, and Key stared numbly out at the rain, listening to Minho’s heart beat.
“Thank you,” Key finally said softly, his voice muffled by Minho’s t-shirt.
Minho smiled and ran his fingers through Key’s hair, “No… thank you.”
Key smiled lightly.
For a week straight Minho had clambered out of bed after Key to drag him back and get him to sleep, for a week straight Key had pondered the meaning of life, for a week straight Key had wondered when he had started to feel so lost.
For a week Minho had been guiding him back to safety.
For a week Minho had been holding his hand.
It took Key an entire week to fully comprehend that Minho was the meaning of his life…
And that he’d rather spend his sleepless nights being dragged back to bed by Minho, than by himself, lost and alone.
He couldn’t find his way to bed without a map.