Minho

02:18 am. Jisung’s lungs burned from the biting night air. The footsteps behind him weren’t dropping back – they were gaining ground. Every time his sneakers skidded on the damp pavement, the heavy, deliberate thud of boots followed, closer and closer, echoing off the narrow brick walls.

His heart hammered violently against his ribs. He yanked his earbuds out, his fingers shaking so badly that one slipped from his grip, but he didn't dare slow down to pick it up. A low, muffled laugh cut through the empty street from somewhere behind him. They knew he was running out of options.

Jisung took the next turn too fast. His sneakers lost traction on the slick asphalt, throwing him sideways, and his shoulder clipped the rough brick wall. Off-balance and falling forward, he crashed blindly into a solid frame. His hands shot out on pure adrenaline, clawing at the stiff, worn leather of a stranger’s jacket to stop himself from hitting the ground.

Minho had just stopped under a dark shop awning to pull his collar up against the damp chill. The sudden violent impact knocked him back half a step. His jaw tightened, his brow furrowing as he looked down at the guy practically hanging off his clothes.

— Don't move. Please, Jisung choked out, his eyes darting frantically back toward the open street.

Minho’s entire frame locked up. A midnight ambush in a sketchy alley usually meant trouble, but the raw terror in the guy's eyes and the distinct echo of approaching boots told him everything he needed to know. Shifting his weight, Minho aggressively shoved them both backward, pinning Jisung flat against the brick wall and shielding his body completely with his own broad back.

The heavy boots rounded the corner and immediately slowed down, pacing the pavement. Minho didn't look. He dropped his chin, burying his face near the crown of Jisung’s head, his warm breath cutting through the cold air as he locked his arms around him to mimic a private, late-night embrace.