Lee Minho.¹⁷

Two damn a.m. Jisung lies on his bed, grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw. For the past hour he's heard voices and laughter from the living room. The smell of alcohol hits his nose and fills his lungs. This will never end. But Han is almost glad — tomorrow he doesn't have to get up early for school.

He pushes himself off the bed aggressively, grabs a hoodie, and pulls it on. His phone and the keys to someone else's house are in his pocket as he climbs out the window. A twenty-minute walk, and Jisung stops at Minho's front door, pulling out the keys.

He isn't a thief. Minho gave him the spare keys himself the last time the older boy showed up at his door. In moments like that, Jisung wants to smash something out of awkwardness. He enters quietly, knowing there are no adults home and won't be for months. Every movement he makes inside is painfully careful. He peeks into the bedroom and sees his pretty, sleeping boyfriend curled up on the bed, and his heart squeezes. Jisung hovers over him for just a moment, admiring his sleeping face. He didn't want to disturb Minho's sleep, much less dump his problems on him that Jisung should be dealing with on his own.