57. COOKIES

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/~*~\\ 57 //~*~\

/~*~\\ COOKIES //~*~\




Minho purred softly as his senses awoke from his long winter sleep, screaming as loud as his lungs would allow alerting the poor beta of the burning pain in his collarbone and warn of the incompatibility of stiff, sore muscles as if he hadn't used them in weeks, hibernating like a bear to wait out the worst of times, except that it seemed to hold to him like a glue, making itself felt with every breath he took, tugging mercilessly at his collarbone.

The pulsating pressure in his temples and forehead made him think about why he could not sleep a little longer, why his wolf did not want to rest and let the wound heal completely, or to the point where it would not cause such great discomfort at least.

Unfortunately, Minho has always believed that he was haunted by bad luck and even his small, inner version of himself was angry with him.

Suddenly, the black ears twitched slightly as a barely audible murmur from the depths of a slightly dark room, wrapped in velvet light by candles placed at the ends of a candlestick chandelier, reached them, bringing the still dull senses on high alert.

- Minho? – a familiar voice grabbed his heavy eyelids, opening them wide, and deep green eyes emerged from underneath them, searching for the much desired owner of this beautiful tone. The tone that flowed into his body, enveloping each organ with a heavenly melody flowing over an invisible staff, as if Apollo sent his muses upon him to warm his already warm body with a huge feeling that gives colour to his life.

His heart beat faster as his eyes found a chocolate-haired boy with plump cheeks and round, dark eyes staring at him with crystals flashing on his squirrel-like face, creating barely noticeable wet lanes.

Heavy breathing caught in his chest, and a choked groan rang out around the room.

At last, he found him, at last he had him before his eyes again. He could look at him, he could touch him, he could hug him, he could smell his scent...

„J-Jisung..." Minho lifted his head with a painful grunt and pressed his nose against the cheek of the positively surprised boy (whose hand was on the rough hair between his ears), wagging his tail and inhaling the mint scent, but... That's not it.

It was different, not even alike.

There was no hint of sharp sensation that made up for both of them in its intensity, sticking to him like sticky, irritating, hard-to-wash resin, becoming a part of him, completely replacing his virtually imperceptible envelope of the damp forest.

Mint did not intertwine through his raven locks, allowing them to breathe its freshness as he remembered it at each meeting at the edge of their territory.

He immediately ceased his excited tail movements, and his head moved back to examine the oh so longed face of Han once more - the confused, sad face.

"It's not you, is it?"

- M-Minho, you alright? You don't have temperature, do you? – Jisung spoke in a worried voice, and then his velvety, shimmering in the orange ish light of the candles chocolate curls turned pink, washing the remnants of brown into nothingness, and his round face was replaced with a completely unexpected, perfectly chiselled, and incapable of holding the same puppyish, innocent flash.

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