Minho

The front door shut with a heavy thud. Minho kicked his sneakers off, leaving them right in the middle of the hallway, and tossed his keys onto the shelf. He tugged the stiff collar of his shirt open, grimacing at the uncomfortable, tight feeling of dried sweat and stage makeup on his skin.

Jisung was standing by the kitchen counter in oversized sweatpants, trying to pry the plastic lid off a takeout box. A couple of other containers were already open on the table, smelling strongly of fried pork and soy sauce.

— Traffic? Jisung asked, glancing over his shoulder as the plastic lid finally popped off.

— The overpass was completely blocked, Minho sighed, dragging his feet across the living room floor.

He didn’t stop until he reached the kitchen. Without a word, Minho leaned forward, dropping his chin onto Jisung’s shoulder and wrapping both arms around his waist. Closing his eyes, he let his tired body go slack. Jisung smelled incredibly familiar – a simple mix of their shared shower gel, fresh laundry, and a faint hint of everyday body spray.

— Rough shoot? Jisung asked, not pushing him away. Instead, he just leaned back into the hold a little.

— My head is splitting. The photographer didn't like the lighting, so we had to reshoot the entire second concept from scratch, Minho mumbled right into the fabric of Jisung’s t-shirt.

Jisung shifted his feet to keep his balance. He reached his free hand back, lightly massaging the back of Minho’s neck, his fingers immediately catching on the stiff, hairspray-soaked strands at the nape.

— Go take a quick shower, Jisung told him, patting his arm.

— Give me two minutes, Minho muttered, entirely ignoring the suggestion and tightening his grip.