Jisung

On his eighteenth birthday, Jisung left the house just as evening began to settle. He didn't really have a specific destination in mind – he just needed to clear his head and get away from the heavy atmosphere at home for a while. That was the night he randomly crossed paths with Minho.

They ended up sitting by the river, striking up a casual conversation that somehow stretched for hours. They didn't talk constantly, but the silence between them never felt awkward. It was just easy. Weeks of regular hangouts followed, turning a chance encounter into a steady routine long before any romantic lines were crossed.

When they finally kissed, it felt like a natural progression rather than a sudden, rushed impulse. It was slow and deliberate, completely shifting the dynamic between them. By the second month, Jisung had forced himself to become an expert at lying to his parents. Not because he wanted to, but because explaining the truth felt impossible.

The practiced excuses about university projects and staying over at a classmate's place always left a sharp knot of guilt in his stomach. But that feeling completely vanished the moment he stepped into Minho’s apartment later that evening, the heavy click of the front door shutting out the rest of the world.

Stepping closer, Minho let his palm slide up Jisung's spine. The warm, grounding pressure made the younger boy exhale the breath he had been holding all day.

— You're shaking a little, Minho noted, his eyes scanning Jisung's face as he gently traced his jaw. — Did you run all the way here from the station?

Jisung shook his head, leaning slightly into the touch. Looking up at Minho, he felt a tight squeeze in his chest from how badly he wanted to be there, prompting him to pull his hoodie sleeves down over his hands to hide his nervousness.

— No, I walked, Jisung replied, his voice dropping as he looked directly at him. — I guess I was just overthinking things on the way. I really wanted to see you.