Chapter Text
To say that Jisung was nervous when he walked into the yoga studio the next day was an understatement. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but something inside him told him to keep making Minho proud of his progress in yoga.
For the first time in two years, he felt like he actually had something to show. He had, in fact, cared enough about something to keep on working on it. Something else other than music. Even without planning to do so.
It started as just something new to do, but it had clearly become a part of his routine that could not be skipped. Minho made Jisung focus on the here and now during that one hour of practice. He made Jisung look inwardly without judgment (even if sometimes, judgment lingered). No tasks. No (internal) pain. Just internal awareness of his mind and body. And… a bit of soreness afterward.
So yes, maybe he wanted to impress instructor Minho. Not for any perverse reason. Just to keep this feeling of pride going. He told himself so.
Minho acknowledged him the same way he did every time, in the same manner as he did with his other students: with a nod and his first name.
“Jisung,” Minho said in a low voice, sitting on his own mat.
Jisung nodded in response, unable to say anything else. Minho looked as graceful as ever. His black shorts and tank top lingering on the muscles of his body. Jisung made a point to not stare too long. He needed his mind to be clear.
Focus, focus, focus.
Other people trickled in. But just as every afternoon class, this too was a small practice. Only two other people joined. This meant that Minho would undoubtedly give them ample attention.
This knowledge always made Jisung nervous for some reason. But he let it all go as class began.
Jisung was sweating profusely as he always did mid-class, when Minho said, “Crow pose or anything else available in your practice – tripod or headstand. Then make your way to child’s pose.”
Of course, Minho observed as every person in class tried something on their own.
Jisung had the brilliant idea of trying the crow pose himself–something he had never done, but thought he could do it.
Only when he tried balancing himself on his two hands did he realize that it had not been a brilliant idea. The pose was harder to perfect than it looked, and he had a hard time lifting one foot from the mat, let alone both his feet.
“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath, completely losing mental composure.
Not long after, Minho appeared on his side. His hands, too warm, touched Jisung’s elbows, “Push your knees as far up as they can go.” He tried bending Jisung’s elbows further, then with a light touch on his chin, said, “Look forward, not down.”
This startled Jisung, making him lose the little balance he had. He fell onto the mat, headfirst.
“Oh,” Minho said, not surprised at all. “Slow and steady,” his hands were on Jisung’s back in a gesture of reassurance, turning him effortlessly on the mat.
“I can’t do it, Minho,” Jisung confessed, utterly embarrassed at his sudden boldness and lack of ability. He lay on his back, closing his eyes.
“Yes, you can. It takes time. You can’t expect to be great at something the first time you try it. Practice, focus, and you’ll get there,” Minho said sympathetically.
As fast as he had gotten there, he disappeared, making himself available to the other students.
Jisung was getting more comfortable and felt less embarrassed when suddenly Minho spoke to the class again, “Back on the top of the mat. Fold forward. Let’s go! Up dog, down dog, warrior two.”
The three yogis groaned in protest but did as Minho instructed.
Fifteen minutes later, Jisung finally lay fully on his back, silently thanking Minho for the end of class as his words guided them all through a calmer journey. Meditation.
“Release tension, relax your face, don’t let your mind wander far. Stay in the room, stay in the room, stay in the room,” he kept saying.
Jisung focused on his words, on the monotone voice, calm and collected, cutting through the music.
Slow and steady. Jisung recalled Minho’s words from earlier. You can’t expect to be great at something the first time you try it. He breathed deeply.
“Stay in the room,” Minho repeated. “Don’t think about anything else. Focus on your toes, your ankle, your calves…” Minho went through every body part possible. “Don’t let go. Focus on the now. On your progress today. Be proud.”
Over time, it had become easier to focus on practice. When Jisung felt himself letting go, he often repeated Minho’s words to himself. Some of Minho's words stuck with Jisung. He wasn’t sure why, but they did.
Acknowledge the bad feelings and let them go. Only keep the good ones.
Give your all. No regrets.
Be patient with yourself.
Give in, let go.
Be proud.
Stay in the room. Stay in the room. Stay in the room.
This one hit Jisung particularly hard.
Stay in the room.
It wasn’t anything overly philosophical. It didn’t touch on feelings. It didn’t advise him on anything. It was just a bundle of simple words, yet…
Stay in the room.
It was so hard for Jisung to stay in the room sometimes. His mind liked to wander. Wandering about the failures in the past few months. About the things he should be doing and wasn’t or couldn’t. About the people who had left him, voluntarily or involuntarily.
But today, maybe he could do it. He told himself to stay in the room. And he did.
A hand on his shoulder startled him.
“Jisung,” Minho’s quiet voice startled him. Jisung had fallen deep within himself, immersed in so much inner focus that he didn’t realize class had ended and there were only the two of them in the now cooling room.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting up too quickly. His mind swam.
Minho nodded, towering over him. “It’s fine. I thought you were asleep.”
“I wasn’t,” Jisung replied. “I–I stayed in the room,” he chuckled, repeating Minho’s words.
Minho smiled at him. A small thing, but it was there nonetheless, cutting through his cool and collected personality. “Good, good.”
He turned his back and made his way to the sound system, undoubtedly to organize the studio post-class. Jisung watched him, all grace and coolness. Minho was always calm, collected, and present.
It was then that Jisung felt the urge to say, “I can’t even do crow pose.”
Minho turned to him, “That’s ok. There are lots of things that I can’t do either.” Always so sympathetic. Jisung guessed he wasn’t talking just about yoga.
Jisung shook his head, “No, you told Changbin I was your best yogi. There are people in this class who are far more experienced than I am.”
He winced as soon as he stopped talking. What the hell was he doing? Could he sound less sure of himself? Where was that feeling of pride? Of wanting to keep trying this and improving little by little?
Minho didn’t reply right away. He walked back to Jisung’s side and sat down.
Jisung watched him. It was almost infuriating how calm Minho was at all times. Jisung hated himself a little bit for what he had said.
He didn’t look at Jisung while he spoke; he looked at his own mat on the other side of the room. “I don’t need experienced students, Jisung. I do not need performers. You are my best yogi because you come in here with no pretense and you give, give, and give. Practice leaves you drenched and empty–lighter. As it should. And you keep coming back, improving, looking for more. That’s what I love to see. A person who does not run from a hard time, but faces it head-on and with no way of knowing if they will win or not.”
Jisung was gawking at him as he was done talking. His body felt too cold all of a sudden.
“I am not–” Jisung started, intending on denying all those brave things that Minho was saying about him.
Truthfully, Minho didn’t know him. Not at all. Jisung had been coming to the yoga studio for less than three months and had only had one conversation with Minho. How could he say those things about Jisung?
But then, something far more terrifying hit Jisung. Minho saw hope in him. Even when Jisung didn’t see it for himself.
Jisung had lost hope in himself for a while now.
Hope was truly where dreams died. Jisung didn’t dare to dream these days.
Minho’s blind faith in him cut him so deep. As if he was portraying himself to not be the failure that he thought he was.
And just like that, his eyes filled. Thankfully, it was dark.
Minho was so, so wrong.
Jisung prayed for the room to be dark enough for Minho not to notice his watery eyes.
“I am none of that, Minho,” Jisung managed, voice a bit too choked up, a bit too serious.
Minho hummed, thinking, then turned to him. He watched Jisung for a long moment. Then said, curiosity in his voice, “Have you written anything?”
Jisung almost welcomed the change of topic, but silently hated that Minho was touching on the one topic that Jisung was most ashamed of: his lack of will to write.
“Ah, no,” Jisung looked down, unable to say the truth and watch the disappointment in Minho’s eyes. If he was even capable of that.
But Minho showed no disappointment.
“Good, well, I did think it through… A song about yoga would suck,” Minho said in a playful tone.
Jisung’s eyes bulged. A sudden laugh escaped his lips.
Jisung indulged him, “What else would you suggest then?” He looked at Minho again, surprisingly amused.
Minho hummed, thinking. “Have you tried that sugar free watermelon ice cream from the Click?”
The Click was the best restaurant in the resort, in Jisung’s opinion. And of course, he kept coming back to it over and over again. The watermelon ice cream was the very reason for his faithful patronage.
“Of course,” Jisung nodded.
“That!” Minho said, excited. “That ice cream absolutely deserves a song.”
Jisung laughed.
“Thank god you’re a yoga teacher and not a musician. You come up with the craziest song ideas,” Jisung said, his voice much lighter than before.
Minho smiled widely, not at all offended by Jisung’s words. “Well, fine. I will leave music for the musicians. You seem to know what you’re doing anyway.”
Jisung disagreed. He had no idea whatsoever about what he was doing. But did that mean that Minho–
“Wait, you know my music?”
Minho scoffed, “Who doesn’t know your music?”
Jisung was baffled. Minho, and everyone else at the resort for that matter, have always acted with such discretion that he almost forgot that he was famous outside these tall resort walls.
“Right,” Jisung chuckled, rubbing the back of his wet neck. “I am sure you have your own opinions about me not releasing anything in a while, then.”
Minho hummed again, this time completely serious. “No, I am a yoga teacher, like you said. I know nothing of your work and what it entails. But I do know about the human condition and that everyone has their hardships.”
Minho’s seamless jokes made Jisung forget how wise he was, but now Minho was back at his usual sincere and stern self.
He continued, “I am sure you have your reasons. If you release something or never again, it’s no one’s business. I am more worried about how you feel in here.” Minho put two fingers on Jisung’s forehead, then down below, on his chest, above his heart. “And here.”
The touch sent a devastating shiver down Jisung’s spine. He froze.
Did Minho have any idea how significant his words were to Jisung? Did Minho know the effect he had on him?
Jisung guessed he didn’t. Jisung guessed he had no idea that his simple yet wise words were rearranging Jisung’s existence in plain sight.
Minho stood up, much too quickly, and did not leave any space for Jisung to react.
“Want to get that watermelon ice cream? I think we deserve it,” Minho said, not looking back at Jisung, going straight for his towel.
Jisung shook his head, breaking out of his frozen state, and wondered whether there was any policy against guests interacting on a more personal level with staff.
Are we being too personal? He wondered.
“Can–Can we do that?” Jisung asked dumbly.
Minho answered, drying his sweaty forehead, “Of course, why not?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
If Minho was not going to question how potentially weird this sounded, Jisung wouldn’t do it either.
-
“Oh, god,” Minho groaned, swallowing a spoonful of the ice cream.
This surprised Jisung. He frowned, then tried to hide his smile. It was utterly unnecessary for him to see how Minho behaved outside of the studio. Unnecessary because he was enjoying it far too much.
Jisung looked down at his ice cream, averting his eyes.
“Amazing,” Minho added. “Good thing it’s sugar-free. Otherwise, I’d look like a balloon now.”
Jisung scoffed. “You’d still look good.”
He said it without thinking, only realizing his words when they left his mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s— that was—“ he looked at Minho again, trying to apologize, but words were suddenly so difficult to find.
So much for being a songwriter.
Surprisingly, Minho’s cheeks had achieved the same color as the ice cream: a delicate red.
Unsure of where the boldness was coming from, Jisung said, “I meant...” And felt himself blush, too. Harmless flirting. “You’re handsome. You can eat all the ice cream you want.”
Jisung swore he could see Minho gulping. Yet, he recovered quickly.
“You’re kind,” Minho answered in a rather serious tone.
Jisung nodded, taking his tone as direction for the rest of the conversation. They’d act as guest and staff. Student and teacher. A person who didn’t have their shit together and person who did.
Feeling the need of a change of topic, Jisung asked Minho a series of questions.
Minho was uncharacteristically chatty. Jisung found out that Minho had been practicing yoga for over a decade. That he had been working at the resort for five years. He also taught at two studios in the city when he wasn’t at the resort.
“My contract is eight months here and four months off. I can dedicate myself to other practices when I’m not here,” Minho explained.
“Must be nice,” Jisung said. “You get to spend eight months of the year in this paradise.”
Minho nodded. “I do enjoy it. But sometimes it gets hard to see people go. I do get attached to my students.”
Jisung felt that prickle of jealousy make its way back into his core.
“People come here, sometimes never having experienced peace or calm. It’s nice to see them get a taste of it, and want to keep doing it. But I’ve had too many goodbyes.”
“So you wish your favorite guests to live here forever?” Jisung forced himself to say, wondering if he fell into that category.
“No, I know people move on with their lives and onto better days,” Minho answered honestly.
It hit Jisung then that he was almost halfway through his journey at the resort, and that, one day, he’d soon leave.
A spike of panic at the thought of keep on going on his own ran through him. At the thought of not having Hyunjin to listen to his troubles, at not having Minho to keep his focus, at not having anyone share their hardships or reasons to seek help like Seungmin or Changbin.
But that too was progress. It would mean he had moved on.
Before he had come to the resort, Jisung absolutely refused the idea of seeking help. How far had he come? Further than he ever imagined possible.
Minho woke him up from his internal struggle, “Will you keep on practicing yoga after you leave?”
“Yes. I think so. Although it’ll be hard to find someone as good as you,” Jisung said genuinely.
“There are many capable and inspiring yoga instructors out there. You can become one too if you wish.”
“I think I’ll stick to music,” Jisung said without thinking.
He had not done music for a while. He wasn’t even sure if he had it in him anymore, but just like that, a flicker of hope lit up. Maybe if his subconscious thought so, so should he.
Minho smiled, “I’d love to see you live if I ever get the chance.”
And so, just like that, too, Jisung wished to perform again, just so Minho could see him live.
But before his mind went too far, Jisung was sure that there was something against this in the resort NDA, so he refrained from giving Minho any hopes of that.