Ship/Member: joshua/minghao Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: one-sided infatuation, touch starved Permission to remix: Yes
***
Minghao is gentle, deliberate with his actions in a way that most people don’t notice. Joshua notices.
He watches how carefully Minghao plays with Mingyu’s hair and how delicately he touches Seokmin or Jeonghan’s faces and hands. He stares at the soft touch of Minghao’s fingers and wonders.
Joshua doesn’t like to be touched. There are many reasons, the inherent trauma of being scrutinized every single day for almost ten years notwithstanding. What it boils down to is this: it’s his body and he controls who touches him. He wishes it were easier, that he could accept fingers on his wrist or a friendly hand-hold without shrugging it off. He wishes that he could maintain any kind of contact when the cameras turn off and they’re all in the dorm. It’s so easy for everyone else to pile onto the couch, legs and arms and hands intertwined. Jeonghan lays on top of Mingyu more often than not, and Seokmin always seems to have a hand around Minghao’s wrist or ankle. Joshua could never. He isn’t sure why.
He excuses himself to his room — not that anyone is paying attention — to change. He runs his hands down his own body, trying to imagine what it might be like to let someone else, wondering if Minghao’s touch feels like a whisper of bird wings as it takes off beside you, or if he’s just being dramatic. Weird. He could let someone in. He could reach out and pull someone toward him.
He thinks about someone coming through the door. No, not someone. Minghao. Minghao wouldn’t be pushy about it, he would just ask what was wrong or if Joshua needed anything. Joshua could turn and touch him so easily. His face, his waist. Minghao would let him, he thinks. Minghao welcomes his touch.
What might Minghao’s hands feel like? His long, thin fingers remind Joshua of bird bones, delicate and hollow, but there’s a strength to him, too. Minghao would know how much pressure to put, where exactly to touch. He’d know Joshua better than Joshua knows himself. It would feel good, if Minghao touched him. Joshua wouldn’t tense up like he usually does. He wouldn’t squirm away or push Minghao’s hands away. He’d be comfortable with Minghao. Safe.
Joshua drops his hands, a bitter taste in his mouth. There’s no use in thinking about things that will never happen.
[FILL] a gentle touch
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: one-sided infatuation, touch starved
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Minghao is gentle, deliberate with his actions in a way that most people don’t notice. Joshua notices.
He watches how carefully Minghao plays with Mingyu’s hair and how delicately he touches Seokmin or Jeonghan’s faces and hands. He stares at the soft touch of Minghao’s fingers and wonders.
Joshua doesn’t like to be touched. There are many reasons, the inherent trauma of being scrutinized every single day for almost ten years notwithstanding. What it boils down to is this: it’s his body and he controls who touches him. He wishes it were easier, that he could accept fingers on his wrist or a friendly hand-hold without shrugging it off. He wishes that he could maintain any kind of contact when the cameras turn off and they’re all in the dorm. It’s so easy for everyone else to pile onto the couch, legs and arms and hands intertwined. Jeonghan lays on top of Mingyu more often than not, and Seokmin always seems to have a hand around Minghao’s wrist or ankle. Joshua could never. He isn’t sure why.
He excuses himself to his room — not that anyone is paying attention — to change. He runs his hands down his own body, trying to imagine what it might be like to let someone else, wondering if Minghao’s touch feels like a whisper of bird wings as it takes off beside you, or if he’s just being dramatic. Weird. He could let someone in. He could reach out and pull someone toward him.
He thinks about someone coming through the door. No, not someone. Minghao. Minghao wouldn’t be pushy about it, he would just ask what was wrong or if Joshua needed anything. Joshua could turn and touch him so easily. His face, his waist. Minghao would let him, he thinks. Minghao welcomes his touch.
What might Minghao’s hands feel like? His long, thin fingers remind Joshua of bird bones, delicate and hollow, but there’s a strength to him, too. Minghao would know how much pressure to put, where exactly to touch. He’d know Joshua better than Joshua knows himself. It would feel good, if Minghao touched him. Joshua wouldn’t tense up like he usually does. He wouldn’t squirm away or push Minghao’s hands away. He’d be comfortable with Minghao. Safe.
Joshua drops his hands, a bitter taste in his mouth. There’s no use in thinking about things that will never happen.