Han Jisung, a struggling music producer, is completely smitten by a handsome, cold bar back by the name of Lee Minho. He hates the way Minho makes him feel, and after learning about Minho's past, Jisung wants to hate him even more, but can't help ho...
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"What are you doing here?" Minho asks, tone low and unimpressed.
"I told you that I thought texting was impersonal–"
"So that gives you the right to come to my apartment?" Minho raises his brow, hand on the front door as he blocks entry into his home.
"Son, it's been almost a month since the gala. I think we need to talk about everything." His father tries to plead, but Minho is awfully uninterested.
"I don't care. You lost every right in wanting to talk to me the minute you said those words to me at the gala. I do not want to hear anything from you."
"Are you ever going to sit down and hear me out? Or are we going to argue every time we see each other?"
"Depends." Minho rolls his eyes. "Are you going to keep forcing your dreams for me down my throat? Or do I get to choose what I want to do with my own life?"
"Minho, you aren't thinking logically about this–"
"Oh, I'm perfectly logical. You just don't bother to listen."
His father sighs, standing awkwardly outside of the apartment, wordlessly spotting Jisung sitting behind Minho in the kitchen still. Minho takes a step to his left, forcing his father's eye contact onto him rather than his partner.
"Are you done? Is that all you came for?" Minho folds his arms.
"I guess so." His father mumbles, starting to turn away. "If you actually want to talk, you know where to find me."
"Sure." Minho rolls his eyes as he slams the door shut, locking it afterwards. Jisung just sits in silence, watching idly, picking at his pancakes as his gaze suddenly drops the moment he sees Minho turn on his heel. Minho approaches the stool Jisung was sitting on, carefully turning the younger around with the swivel of his chair before locking his lips with Jisung's.
It's not a rushed kiss, one that lingers as they slot their lips together over and over and over again. Minho's hands rise to cup the sides of Jisung's jaw, parting for a moment to take a breath.
Jisung doesn't bother to interrupt, allowing the elder to take whatever he needed from him, no longer feeling the need to question Minho's habits.
"Sorry." Minho mutters when he parts, leaning away a bit breathless.
"No, it's okay. You don't have to apologize." Jisung says sweetly, feeling Minho's hands drop away from the sides of his face. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"
"I'm just confused." Minho sighs. "I can never tell if he's genuine or not."
"I think he's trying to be." Jisung looks up at Minho, tilting his head slightly.
