Stray Kids Fic: Volcano
Feb. 26th, 2023 12:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair[yes, hi, I'm alive and aware that an update is overdue, I'm... working on it]
***
Title: Volcano
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Stray Kids
Pairing: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Tags: Love Confessions, Feelings, Mutual Pining, Inspired by Music, Canon Compliant
Rating: G
Word count: 2,402
Disclaimer: Very clearly not true.
Summary:
Jisung drops the song on Sunday. By Monday evening, Minho has sent Jisung fifteen messages and received a reply to none.
Three minutes into Tuesday, Minho finally listens to the song.
Volcano on AO3
Jisung drops a surprise SKZ record on a Sunday. No promo, no fanfare, no video, just a song and a picture that doesn't even show his face in full. It's not exactly out of character, but it is wholly unexpected, at least it is to Minho. He hadn't even known Jisung had been working on something new, has no recollection of the song title cropping up in conversation, and he can't help but be a little... hurt over the whole thing. Normally, he knows everything Jisung is doing or thinking or planning, normally he’s the one Jisung seeks out to run ideas by, the one who gets to watch Jisung play with his fingers, the hem of his shirt, the frayed edge of Minho's favourite blanket while he mutters "I've been thinking" and "Hyung, do you think that…?"
This time? Nothing.
It doesn't help that the drop seems like a surprise to everyone else as well, with the clear exception of Chan and Changbin. Minho is pretty sure the music symbiosis the three of them have going on makes it impossible for one of them to write down so much as a note without the other two sensing a disturbance in the 3RACHA force.
The point is that Jisung drops Volcano on Sunday and by Monday afternoon Minho has received no less than four queries as to whether he has listened to the song yet, and several (he lost count around twelve) Significant Looks from members and even some of the closer staff whenever the topic comes up (which is often because everyone keeps bringing it up). None of the questions or the looks are from Jisung. After all, it's hard to ask questions or send looks when you are nowhere to be found.
Jisung drops the song on Sunday. By Monday evening Minho has sent Jisung fifteen messages and received a reply to none.
Three minutes into Tuesday, Minho finally listens to the song.
Seven minutes into Tuesday, he listens to it again.
Eleven minutes past midnight, he listens to Volcano for the third time, on his back on top of the covers of his bed, earbuds in, eyes open but unseeing. He’s breathing fast and shallow, whole body flooded with adrenaline, heart beating disbelief and fear and hope so strong his hands shake with it. ‘Even the dark night doesn’t scare me if I’m with you’, Jisung sings, ‘unlike those who run away from you, I’ll embrace you’ he sings, voice just on the edge of breaking, full of emotion. ‘It’s okay if everything burns,’ Jisung sings and Minho covers his face with his hands, his cheeks wet, unsuccessfully trying to stifle the choked sob that pushes out.
At 00.15 on a Tuesday morning, Minho gets up, shoves his feet into his sneakers, not even bothering with a jacket, and runs out of the dorm.
***
When Jisung shows the song to Chan for the first time, he has to force himself to sit still, not to jitter all over the studio while Chan reads through the lyrics, listens to the raw melody. Finally, Chan looks at Jisung, something almost unbearably kind in his eyes and says “Hannie. This is…”
“I know,” Jisung says. “I know. But is it good?”
Chan huffs. “It’s good,” he says. “It’s really, really good.”
When Jisung records it, Changbin is there. He’s offered some suggestions to the lyrics, the same as Chan did for the beat, enough for credit but Jisung doesn’t care about that, not for this. When Jisung records the song, Changbin is there but he doesn’t look at Jisung, and neither does Chan, both focused on the equipment, giving him privacy that makes Jisung feel safe. They only do as many takes as they do, because Jisung wants to try again and again, needs it to be perfect.
When they listen to the final version, Changbin’s hand is resting between his shoulder blades, Chan’s squeezing the meat of his thigh. Jisung is so, so grateful because he feels like he’s about to shake apart, involuntarily tremors wrecking his body.
“You’re so brave,” Changbin says and wraps his arms around Jisung’s waist from behind, squeezing him tight, tight, tight.
“We’re so proud,” Chan says, and Jisung lets himself be held between his hyungs while he breathes and breathes and breathes, not feeling so brave at all.
Three days before the song drops, Jisung falls asleep in Minho’s bed, his face pressed against Minho’s back, his fingers twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt, taking what he can while he’s still allowed.
Two days before the song drops, Minho cooks dinner for everyone and Jisung makes him laugh no less than six times while trying to help. He wishes he had an eidetic memory, so he could store each smile, pin it to his heart like a polaroid.
Ten hours before the song drops, Chan asks “Are you sure?”, Chan says “You don’t have to,” says “Whatever you want, Sungie. Your call,” both hands on Jisung’s shoulders, massaging him a little bit, the weight of it grounding. Ten hours before the song drops, Jisung thinks about backing out, about playing it safe but he’s so tired of doing that, knows he’s only still doing it for his own sake, to protect himself, not anyone else. Not Chan who told them as soon as the dating ban was lifted that there were no unspoken conditions, that he would accept and support whatever relationship they chose. Not his members who already know, who only care for their happiness. Not Minho who…
Not Minho, who met Jisung’s nervous, stuttering ‘Hyung, I think… I think I like boys as well as girls’ with an honest ‘me too’ all those years ago, who made him feel like it was okay, who helped him believe it really was. Not Minho, who would never withhold his smiles or his comfort no matter what Jisung fears. Not Minho who loves Jisung with teasing smiles and sideways looks, with quiet care and steady hands, who loves Jisung in ways that make him hope.
“Release it,” Jisung tells Chan.
The song drops on a Sunday. Jisung hides in the studio. He leaves his phone at home, disconnects the wifi from the studio computers, and works on a beat that’s as different from Volcano as possible, something fast and hard-hitting, meant to fill dancefloors and jaded hearts.
The song drops on a Sunday, and Jisung doesn’t get back to the dorm until it’s technically Monday. Felix is sitting at the kitchen table with what looks like an old recipe book.
Jisung is too tired to ask why he’s there, but Felix answers him anyway. “Movie marathon with Jinnie,” he offers by way of explanation. “He fell asleep already though. There’s leftovers,” he adds when Jisung slumps in the chair next to him.
“I’m not hungry.” Jisung leans his head against Felix’s shoulder, inhales the scent of their shared laundry detergent and faded perfume and something sweet, like vanilla, underneath it all.
Felix hums. “I’ll heat some up for you.” He gets up, dislodging Jisung’s head gently, and opens the fridge.
“It’s beautiful,” he says, while they wait for the microwave to do its thing. Jisung doesn’t have to ask what Felix is referring to, just nods his head once, jerkily in clumsy thanks. “I cried when I listened to it,” Felix says. “Hyunjinnie did too.”
And just like that, Jisung is blinking back tears himself, the bowl of kimchi-jiggae Felix puts in front of him growing blurry on the table as he shakily picks up the spoon. Felix doesn’t say anything about it, just squeezes the back of Jisung’s neck once before leaving him to it.
Volcano releases on a Sunday and by Monday afternoon Jisung has dodged several hugs by virtue of sneaking back to the studio before the sun was up and answered only a fraction of the messages he’s received (the ones from family, one each from Chan and Changbin). He’s read the ones from Minho several times, but none of them say anything about the song itself. Or they do, but only in the broadest terms.
Hannie! Surprise drop, what?
Didn’t even know you were working on something. Sneaky! 🤨 😁
Reviews are good, I gather. You should be proud. 🎉
You busy? Hyung will buy 🍜 and 🧋 to celebrate if you want.
There’s nothing that suggests Minho has listened to the song, and nothing that clearly says he hasn’t either. The rest of the messages are a mix of their usual everyday stream of consciousness (‘wonder who first thought that ripped jeans were cool’) and thinly disguised concern over Jisung’s silence (‘don’t work too late, we’ve got a busy schedule coming up’). Jisung doesn’t know how to answer any of them so he just… doesn’t. It’s probably not the most adult thing to do but he feels like with the song he’s already said plenty for now.
On Sunday, Jisung releases a love letter for the world to hear. By Monday he knows that the world loves him, the comments on YouTube, on social media, overwhelming in their praise. On Sunday, Jisung puts his heart on the platter and invites the world to feast. On Monday night, he curls up in his bed reading and re-reading Minho’s messages until his eyes hurt too much to keep open, until his fingers grow lax and the phone slips from his hand.
On Tuesday, Jisung wakes up to a knock on his door, quiet but insistent. The clock on his bedside says it’s about twenty to one, in the morning.
***
Jisung opens the door, looking sleep soft and dishevelled in a t-shirt and pyjama pants, his hair sticking up every which way and Minho wants to put his hands on him so bad he can almost taste it.
“What… Hyung?” Jisung’s eyes go wide with surprise. “Did…?” He very obviously takes in the way Minho is leaning on the doorway, still breathing heavy, his own t-shirt rumpled for different reasons, sticking to his skin in patches. “Did you run here?” Jisung asks. “Without a jacket?”
“I need to talk to you,” Minho blurts out, ignoring the question seeing as Jisung has very clearly worked out the answer already. “We need to… Jisung-ah.” He can’t do anything about the pleading in his voice, the way Jisung’s name comes out too breathy, too revealing. He can’t do anything about his hand either, helplessly watching as it reaches out, fingers touching down on Jisung’s lower ribs, snagging at the cotton covering them. “Can I come in?”
Wordlessly, Jisung motions at him to enter and then closes the door behind them. The room is familiar, looking no different than it had just three days ago when they had whiled away the afternoon here, watching cat videos and eating snacks, their legs tangled on the bed.
“What is it, hyung?” Jisung asks behind him. Something about his tone, soft and careful, like he’s trying not to spook a feral cat, tells Minho that he already knows.
Minho turns around. He can do this. He has to do this. Jisung has already… Has maybe, maybe already done so much, unless Minho is wrong, unless he’s really just… mistaking nothing for something.
Jisung is watching him, standing very still by the door, arms wrapped loosely around his waist as if he’s cold, or just… protecting himself.
“I listened to the song.” The words come out like a confession, hushed and holy.
If possible, Jisung goes even more still, barely nodding in acknowledgement. Something like resignation flashes across his features.
“It’s… It’s really good, Hannie.” Another nod. Minho feels like he’s about to cry again, like he’s been given a gift, something amazing that’s going to change his life, but he doesn’t know how to open it. “Is it…?” He swallows, watches the way Jisung’s mouth falls open just a bit on a shaky inhale, his face half in shadow, the muted orange of the nightlamp not quite reaching him.
“Jisung-ah,” Minho tries again, desperate and scared and so fucking in love he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Jisung, if Jisung doesn’t… “Is the, is Volcano…?”
Except, of course Jisung does. Of course, he is there, catching Minho when he stumbles, meeting him half-way as always, more than.
“The song is about you,” Jisung says. He’s clutching at his middle so tightly that Minho can see the muscles in his forearms stand out, his knuckles white with tension, but he’s looking Minho straight in the eye, chin raised, almost defiant.
“For you,” Jisung says. “It’s… I wrote it for you, hyung,” he says, and Minho exhales like he’s been punched, air escaping in a stuttering gasp. He thinks his heart would be doing the same thing if it wasn’t already hanging around the neck of the boy watching him with hesitant hope on his face, too brave for his own good maybe, too good for Minho certainly. Not that he’s going to let that stop him.
“Thank you,” he breathes out, already moving, already crashing into Jisung before his confusion has a chance to resolve anything like disappointment. The force of it pushes Jisung against the door with an audible thud but Minho couldn’t give a fuck about the potential of disturbing anyone else, not when he has Jisung finally under his hands, eyes gone wide with surprise, almost black in the dim light of the room, body pressed against his, perfect, perfect, perfect.
“Thank you,” Minho whispers again, tucking the words into the curve of Jisung’s neck, into the bed-warm soft skin. “I didn’t know how… I couldn’t… I was too afraid,” he confesses, quiet and ashamed and so fucking happy all at the same time. “Jisung-ah, I’m sorry, I…”
Then he gasps again, more of a shocked moan than anything else, as Jisung grabs his hair and drags his head up. “Minho-yah,” he says, “Hyung, please.” His touch softens, fingers still buried in Minho’s hair but gentle now. His face is so close Minho can feel his breath, can see the faint pillow creases on his cheek. “It’s been almost two days. Actually, scratch that, it’s been over five years. If you don’t…”
Minho kisses him.
***
On Sunday, Jisung drops a love song. On Tuesday morning, he wakes up slow and warm, Minho’s fingers trailing up and down his spine, happiness suffusing every part of his body like sunlight.
***
***
Title: Volcano
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress Kat Fandom: Stray Kids
Pairing: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Tags: Love Confessions, Feelings, Mutual Pining, Inspired by Music, Canon Compliant
Rating: G
Word count: 2,402
Disclaimer: Very clearly not true.
Summary:
Jisung drops the song on Sunday. By Monday evening, Minho has sent Jisung fifteen messages and received a reply to none.
Three minutes into Tuesday, Minho finally listens to the song.
Author notes: Not to be that person but. BUT. It is very difficult to interpret this song as anything other than a love letter to Minho. Don’t @ me, I know the difference between reality and make believe, I know the credits list the full 3RACHA. I’m just working through my feelings because ‘love confession through song’ is one of my favourite tropes and, honestly, what else was I supposed to do with this? Thank you to dreamersdare for beta and general enabling.
dreamersdare for beta and general enabling.Volcano on AO3
Jisung drops a surprise SKZ record on a Sunday. No promo, no fanfare, no video, just a song and a picture that doesn't even show his face in full. It's not exactly out of character, but it is wholly unexpected, at least it is to Minho. He hadn't even known Jisung had been working on something new, has no recollection of the song title cropping up in conversation, and he can't help but be a little... hurt over the whole thing. Normally, he knows everything Jisung is doing or thinking or planning, normally he’s the one Jisung seeks out to run ideas by, the one who gets to watch Jisung play with his fingers, the hem of his shirt, the frayed edge of Minho's favourite blanket while he mutters "I've been thinking" and "Hyung, do you think that…?"
This time? Nothing.
It doesn't help that the drop seems like a surprise to everyone else as well, with the clear exception of Chan and Changbin. Minho is pretty sure the music symbiosis the three of them have going on makes it impossible for one of them to write down so much as a note without the other two sensing a disturbance in the 3RACHA force.
The point is that Jisung drops Volcano on Sunday and by Monday afternoon Minho has received no less than four queries as to whether he has listened to the song yet, and several (he lost count around twelve) Significant Looks from members and even some of the closer staff whenever the topic comes up (which is often because everyone keeps bringing it up). None of the questions or the looks are from Jisung. After all, it's hard to ask questions or send looks when you are nowhere to be found.
Jisung drops the song on Sunday. By Monday evening Minho has sent Jisung fifteen messages and received a reply to none.
Three minutes into Tuesday, Minho finally listens to the song.
Seven minutes into Tuesday, he listens to it again.
Eleven minutes past midnight, he listens to Volcano for the third time, on his back on top of the covers of his bed, earbuds in, eyes open but unseeing. He’s breathing fast and shallow, whole body flooded with adrenaline, heart beating disbelief and fear and hope so strong his hands shake with it. ‘Even the dark night doesn’t scare me if I’m with you’, Jisung sings, ‘unlike those who run away from you, I’ll embrace you’ he sings, voice just on the edge of breaking, full of emotion. ‘It’s okay if everything burns,’ Jisung sings and Minho covers his face with his hands, his cheeks wet, unsuccessfully trying to stifle the choked sob that pushes out.
At 00.15 on a Tuesday morning, Minho gets up, shoves his feet into his sneakers, not even bothering with a jacket, and runs out of the dorm.
***
When Jisung shows the song to Chan for the first time, he has to force himself to sit still, not to jitter all over the studio while Chan reads through the lyrics, listens to the raw melody. Finally, Chan looks at Jisung, something almost unbearably kind in his eyes and says “Hannie. This is…”
“I know,” Jisung says. “I know. But is it good?”
Chan huffs. “It’s good,” he says. “It’s really, really good.”
When Jisung records it, Changbin is there. He’s offered some suggestions to the lyrics, the same as Chan did for the beat, enough for credit but Jisung doesn’t care about that, not for this. When Jisung records the song, Changbin is there but he doesn’t look at Jisung, and neither does Chan, both focused on the equipment, giving him privacy that makes Jisung feel safe. They only do as many takes as they do, because Jisung wants to try again and again, needs it to be perfect.
When they listen to the final version, Changbin’s hand is resting between his shoulder blades, Chan’s squeezing the meat of his thigh. Jisung is so, so grateful because he feels like he’s about to shake apart, involuntarily tremors wrecking his body.
“You’re so brave,” Changbin says and wraps his arms around Jisung’s waist from behind, squeezing him tight, tight, tight.
“We’re so proud,” Chan says, and Jisung lets himself be held between his hyungs while he breathes and breathes and breathes, not feeling so brave at all.
Three days before the song drops, Jisung falls asleep in Minho’s bed, his face pressed against Minho’s back, his fingers twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt, taking what he can while he’s still allowed.
Two days before the song drops, Minho cooks dinner for everyone and Jisung makes him laugh no less than six times while trying to help. He wishes he had an eidetic memory, so he could store each smile, pin it to his heart like a polaroid.
Ten hours before the song drops, Chan asks “Are you sure?”, Chan says “You don’t have to,” says “Whatever you want, Sungie. Your call,” both hands on Jisung’s shoulders, massaging him a little bit, the weight of it grounding. Ten hours before the song drops, Jisung thinks about backing out, about playing it safe but he’s so tired of doing that, knows he’s only still doing it for his own sake, to protect himself, not anyone else. Not Chan who told them as soon as the dating ban was lifted that there were no unspoken conditions, that he would accept and support whatever relationship they chose. Not his members who already know, who only care for their happiness. Not Minho who…
Not Minho, who met Jisung’s nervous, stuttering ‘Hyung, I think… I think I like boys as well as girls’ with an honest ‘me too’ all those years ago, who made him feel like it was okay, who helped him believe it really was. Not Minho, who would never withhold his smiles or his comfort no matter what Jisung fears. Not Minho who loves Jisung with teasing smiles and sideways looks, with quiet care and steady hands, who loves Jisung in ways that make him hope.
“Release it,” Jisung tells Chan.
The song drops on a Sunday. Jisung hides in the studio. He leaves his phone at home, disconnects the wifi from the studio computers, and works on a beat that’s as different from Volcano as possible, something fast and hard-hitting, meant to fill dancefloors and jaded hearts.
The song drops on a Sunday, and Jisung doesn’t get back to the dorm until it’s technically Monday. Felix is sitting at the kitchen table with what looks like an old recipe book.
Jisung is too tired to ask why he’s there, but Felix answers him anyway. “Movie marathon with Jinnie,” he offers by way of explanation. “He fell asleep already though. There’s leftovers,” he adds when Jisung slumps in the chair next to him.
“I’m not hungry.” Jisung leans his head against Felix’s shoulder, inhales the scent of their shared laundry detergent and faded perfume and something sweet, like vanilla, underneath it all.
Felix hums. “I’ll heat some up for you.” He gets up, dislodging Jisung’s head gently, and opens the fridge.
“It’s beautiful,” he says, while they wait for the microwave to do its thing. Jisung doesn’t have to ask what Felix is referring to, just nods his head once, jerkily in clumsy thanks. “I cried when I listened to it,” Felix says. “Hyunjinnie did too.”
And just like that, Jisung is blinking back tears himself, the bowl of kimchi-jiggae Felix puts in front of him growing blurry on the table as he shakily picks up the spoon. Felix doesn’t say anything about it, just squeezes the back of Jisung’s neck once before leaving him to it.
Volcano releases on a Sunday and by Monday afternoon Jisung has dodged several hugs by virtue of sneaking back to the studio before the sun was up and answered only a fraction of the messages he’s received (the ones from family, one each from Chan and Changbin). He’s read the ones from Minho several times, but none of them say anything about the song itself. Or they do, but only in the broadest terms.
Hannie! Surprise drop, what?
Didn’t even know you were working on something. Sneaky! 🤨 😁
Reviews are good, I gather. You should be proud. 🎉
You busy? Hyung will buy 🍜 and 🧋 to celebrate if you want.
There’s nothing that suggests Minho has listened to the song, and nothing that clearly says he hasn’t either. The rest of the messages are a mix of their usual everyday stream of consciousness (‘wonder who first thought that ripped jeans were cool’) and thinly disguised concern over Jisung’s silence (‘don’t work too late, we’ve got a busy schedule coming up’). Jisung doesn’t know how to answer any of them so he just… doesn’t. It’s probably not the most adult thing to do but he feels like with the song he’s already said plenty for now.
On Sunday, Jisung releases a love letter for the world to hear. By Monday he knows that the world loves him, the comments on YouTube, on social media, overwhelming in their praise. On Sunday, Jisung puts his heart on the platter and invites the world to feast. On Monday night, he curls up in his bed reading and re-reading Minho’s messages until his eyes hurt too much to keep open, until his fingers grow lax and the phone slips from his hand.
On Tuesday, Jisung wakes up to a knock on his door, quiet but insistent. The clock on his bedside says it’s about twenty to one, in the morning.
***
Jisung opens the door, looking sleep soft and dishevelled in a t-shirt and pyjama pants, his hair sticking up every which way and Minho wants to put his hands on him so bad he can almost taste it.
“What… Hyung?” Jisung’s eyes go wide with surprise. “Did…?” He very obviously takes in the way Minho is leaning on the doorway, still breathing heavy, his own t-shirt rumpled for different reasons, sticking to his skin in patches. “Did you run here?” Jisung asks. “Without a jacket?”
“I need to talk to you,” Minho blurts out, ignoring the question seeing as Jisung has very clearly worked out the answer already. “We need to… Jisung-ah.” He can’t do anything about the pleading in his voice, the way Jisung’s name comes out too breathy, too revealing. He can’t do anything about his hand either, helplessly watching as it reaches out, fingers touching down on Jisung’s lower ribs, snagging at the cotton covering them. “Can I come in?”
Wordlessly, Jisung motions at him to enter and then closes the door behind them. The room is familiar, looking no different than it had just three days ago when they had whiled away the afternoon here, watching cat videos and eating snacks, their legs tangled on the bed.
“What is it, hyung?” Jisung asks behind him. Something about his tone, soft and careful, like he’s trying not to spook a feral cat, tells Minho that he already knows.
Minho turns around. He can do this. He has to do this. Jisung has already… Has maybe, maybe already done so much, unless Minho is wrong, unless he’s really just… mistaking nothing for something.
Jisung is watching him, standing very still by the door, arms wrapped loosely around his waist as if he’s cold, or just… protecting himself.
“I listened to the song.” The words come out like a confession, hushed and holy.
If possible, Jisung goes even more still, barely nodding in acknowledgement. Something like resignation flashes across his features.
“It’s… It’s really good, Hannie.” Another nod. Minho feels like he’s about to cry again, like he’s been given a gift, something amazing that’s going to change his life, but he doesn’t know how to open it. “Is it…?” He swallows, watches the way Jisung’s mouth falls open just a bit on a shaky inhale, his face half in shadow, the muted orange of the nightlamp not quite reaching him.
“Jisung-ah,” Minho tries again, desperate and scared and so fucking in love he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Jisung, if Jisung doesn’t… “Is the, is Volcano…?”
Except, of course Jisung does. Of course, he is there, catching Minho when he stumbles, meeting him half-way as always, more than.
“The song is about you,” Jisung says. He’s clutching at his middle so tightly that Minho can see the muscles in his forearms stand out, his knuckles white with tension, but he’s looking Minho straight in the eye, chin raised, almost defiant.
“For you,” Jisung says. “It’s… I wrote it for you, hyung,” he says, and Minho exhales like he’s been punched, air escaping in a stuttering gasp. He thinks his heart would be doing the same thing if it wasn’t already hanging around the neck of the boy watching him with hesitant hope on his face, too brave for his own good maybe, too good for Minho certainly. Not that he’s going to let that stop him.
“Thank you,” he breathes out, already moving, already crashing into Jisung before his confusion has a chance to resolve anything like disappointment. The force of it pushes Jisung against the door with an audible thud but Minho couldn’t give a fuck about the potential of disturbing anyone else, not when he has Jisung finally under his hands, eyes gone wide with surprise, almost black in the dim light of the room, body pressed against his, perfect, perfect, perfect.
“Thank you,” Minho whispers again, tucking the words into the curve of Jisung’s neck, into the bed-warm soft skin. “I didn’t know how… I couldn’t… I was too afraid,” he confesses, quiet and ashamed and so fucking happy all at the same time. “Jisung-ah, I’m sorry, I…”
Then he gasps again, more of a shocked moan than anything else, as Jisung grabs his hair and drags his head up. “Minho-yah,” he says, “Hyung, please.” His touch softens, fingers still buried in Minho’s hair but gentle now. His face is so close Minho can feel his breath, can see the faint pillow creases on his cheek. “It’s been almost two days. Actually, scratch that, it’s been over five years. If you don’t…”
Minho kisses him.
***
On Sunday, Jisung drops a love song. On Tuesday morning, he wakes up slow and warm, Minho’s fingers trailing up and down his spine, happiness suffusing every part of his body like sunlight.
***