Minho

Minho closed his laptop, and the lecture hall immediately broke into a low hum of chatter. The last seminar of the week was always the most draining. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, packed his charger, and headed to the department office to drop off the midterm grade reports. By the time he finally reached the underground parking lot and unlocked his car, all he wanted was a hot shower and his bad.

The heavy click of their apartment door echoed in the hallway. Minho dropped his leather briefcase by the console table and barely had time to reach for his stiff collar before the sound of bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor reached his ears.

Jisung didn’t say a word. He stepped right into Minho’s space, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

— You’re late, Jisung mumbled into the fabric of his shirt.

— Blame the dean's office, Minho sighed, resting his chin on top of Jisung's head.

— I was two seconds away from eating without you, Jisung said, finally tilting his head up.

His fingers worked at the knot of Minho’s tie, effortlessly slipping it loose before unfastening the top buttons of the shirt. The stiff fabric parted, giving Minho room to finally breathe. Minho leaned in for a brief, lazy kiss before toeing off his dress shoes.

Dinner was a simple affair of spicy pork and rice, eaten sitting cross-legged at the coffee table. They didn't talk much, just passed side dishes back and forth while a random variety show played on the TV.

An hour later, they were tangled on the living room couch. Jisung was lying with his head in Minho’s lap, scrolling through his phone, while Minho absentmindedly traced the line of his shoulders through the cotton t-shirt.

— Clear your schedule for Saturday, he said, staring at the ceiling.

— Why? Jisung asked, glancing up from his screen.

— We’re going out. If I spend one more weekend trapped in this apartment grading papers – i’m going to lose my mind.