To be afraid of love, or to be afraid of trusting someone so completely?
Or, Minho is afraid to be loved and Jisung is terrified to trust anyone ever again. Somehow, they end up fixing each other in secret, until everything spills over and they can...
There is hinted themes of a toxic ex/stalking behavior with mentions of threats and unwanted touching. Please avoid reading further if these topics are sensitive to you.
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•───•⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇•───•
The week passes in a hue of reds and blissful pinks. Minho and Han walk together to class everyday and eat lunch at the same table, eyes hardly able to stop glancing at one another as they pass through the halls. They stay late at the studio nearly every day, buying snacks from the convenience store around the corner and telling stories of their past, connecting even deeper than they were before.
Han sleeps in Minho's bed every night, a habit that slowly burns with engraved routines etched into their souls. Minho always insisted on holding Han, face buried in the back of his neck with gentle kisses placed on his shoulders. Han always wanted to hold Minho's hand, tracing soft shapes and lines over his knuckles and skin, protectively intertwining their fingers to hold Minho closer to him, afraid of the thought of him leaving again.
It was engraved within him now, the thought of Minho telling him to leave suddenly and breaking his heart in half. But Minho does everything he can every single day to assure Han that he will never leave, pressing long kisses to Han's neck and jaw, only to steal his breath from his lungs when he kisses him senseless.
Han wants to make him breakfast nearly every morning, specifically waking earlier than Minho's parents to have something ready for him by the time he decides to roll out of bed. Thankfully Minho's parents were hardly around, going to weekend conferences and being stuck in the office any other day they're not on a business trip. Minho barely seemed to care about his parent's schedules, given that he could basically live with Han and stay as late as he wanted at the studio (not that his parents cared in the first place).
Friday comes around easily, and Minho finds himself in the usual center of the studio, surrounded by mirrors he hardly stared into anymore. It was almost six, three hours after classes had finally ended. Han offered to grab them something to eat and had left ten minutes ago, but not before stealing a longing kiss from Minho.
The music rings out overhead, the song finally ending as Minho slides into the last move, hand gliding upwards, pointed towards the ceiling. The door clicks shut behind him, his eyes barely flicking over in the mirror to spot a familiar face by the door.
"Jisungie," Minho turns around, a smile on his lips with sweat beading down his face. But Han's face told a different story, one that made his eyes leak with tears and his hands tremble with a grocery bag hanging loosely from his fingers. "Hannie?"
Minho's heart falls to the floor as he quickly walks over to him, eyes struck with worry and confusion. The bag slips from Han's fingers as it lands on the floor, his arms reaching out for his partner as his face melts into Minho's shoulder. He's enveloped in a warm hug, one that is long and quiet; all Minho can do is calmingly whisper it's okay over and over until Han's tears subtly stop.
