close // minsung

🔅fifteen🔅

Minho's head felt like it was being split open to say the least.

Like a package you get in the mail that you stab open with a pair of scissors, and you continue to rip apart with your hands. That's how Minho felt where his brain resided in his skull.

A dull pounding would thud inside Minho's head, and he was definitely not basking in the morning glow shining through his curtains like he normally would on a typical Sunday morning. His stomach was churning inside, whatever vile substances that were brewing were going to be rejected by his body some time soon. Even though Minho felt warmth from multiple sources, his body trembled as if a winter front flourished inside the walls of his bedroom.

Minho squints his eyes, and a blurry haze settles over his vision. He lightly groans, wanting to rub his eyes to get the morning vision out of his system. But his arms are trapped and immobile.

Minho tries to open his eyes a little further, and they land on a mop of messy blonde hair, back to Minho and facing the wall. Subconsciously, Minho's lips play tug of war with each other, tugging up and up into a smile. Jisung had pressed himself against Minho with his own arms placed on top of Minho's, locking them in. Jisung's fingers intertwined with Minho's own, which rested upon Jisung's stomach. Minho watched Jisung's chest rise up slowly like rising dough, and deflate like a tire countlessly.

Minho was a little confused as to how Jisung had gotten in his bed. Suddenly, flashes of blurry memories and among the haze was Jisung's voice.

"Don't go to sleep, okay? I'm on my way over."

"No shots for Hannie. And no more shots for Minnie."

"Hyung, do you wear socks to bed?"

"Do you think you can change yourself?"

And just like the limited amount of memories Minho harbored from around 12 hours prior, flashes of a few points in the middle of the night cornered themselves into his mind. Jisung holding his bangs and rubbing his back while Minho vomited profusely into the trash can he brought in. Jisung getting up at least once to grab Minho more water. Jisung becoming the big spoon to rub Minho's stomach, somehow soothing it, then both boys swapping places as big and little spoon throughout the night.

Minho's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned closer to Jisung. He squeezed him just a little bit tighter than before, and buried his nose inside the blonde hair below him.

Jisung had stirred awake at the strange feeling moving around his scalp. A little delirious, he was confused but not enough to be concerned. It was only until he could feel Minho's nose poke him on his scalp, and he broke into a fit of soft laughter.

"Good morning." Jisung's voice sounded raspy, and significantly lower in octave compared to when he's wide awake. Minho's stomach had swirled hearing his voice.

"Morning baby." Minho replied, kissing Jisung's hair. Jisung began to squirm in Minho's grasp, and his cheeks were warming up like a summer afternoon at the pet name.

"So that wasn't just you being a flirty drunk." Jisung laughed it off as if he weren't melting into a metaphorical puddle.

"What, the nickname?" Minho questioned. "Or maybe drunk me made sober me realize I like calling you baby." Minho kept planning kisses on Jisung's head as if he'd found a new addiction to latch onto. "Do you want me to stop?"

Jisung shook his head as best as he could as he turned over to lay on Minho's chest. "N-No, I like it."

"Good, I like it too."

"Do you want some food, hyung?" Jisung looked up, craning his neck just to get a glimpse of the elder boy. He looked somewhat pale with his eye bags protruding more than usual due to the constant waking up in the middle of the night. Jisung wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not when he saw faint tear tracks along his cheeks, wondering if they would stick that long.