"Aren't you going to let go of my hand?"
"No... It's warm, I like warm."
A story where Han Jisung, a college student with his degree in Master of Science in medicine, meets a problematic person who loves dancing any chance he gets, Lee Minho, your t...
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"Used to stick together."
MINHO'S POV Today was shit. He could barely concentrate when he came to do his daily warm up before dance class, Felix kept begging the so called Jisung guy to stay during dance class, even pleaded the teacher as well. Minho was fuming, cigarette between his soft lips as smoke made way out of his mouth and some from his nostrils.
"Fucking contemporary dancing." He murmured taking another drag from the cigarette, taking it between his middle and index finger pulling it out. "How is that Han Jisung guy a man? Who even moves that freely, like the ocean breeze or like he's a leaf that falls to the ground." Minho could not take his eyes off from the pair behind him all the time, barely making some progress in his choreography.
"Even his physique doesn't look like men's." Minho placed the cigarette back between his lips thinking about the younger's physique. "His arms are slim, for his body couldn't say much because of the oversized t-shirt he was wearing, but when he pulled it a little in front of him, fluttering it so he could cool down." Minho sighed the smoke coming out of his mouth. "Such a small waist for a guy. Even his legs looked pretty slim or more like thin." Minho shook his head as he dropped the cigarette and stepped on it before entering in the building, wanting to get to his apartment faster.
He was sharing his apartment with one of his friends, Bangchan, a broke producer who dropped out of school at 17 wanting to "follow his dreams". He also works 2 jobs, a barista at a cafe in the morning and during the night working at a bar downtown. When he first met Chan in high school, at a party hosted by Hyunjin or either Changbin, another friend his, Chan introduced him to weed and later on other drugs. He went clean around 4 years ago though, when his ex girlfriend passed away in her sleep after doing heroin with him. Minho felt a knot form in his throat as he thought of how fucked up Chan looked that day.
Minho got to the floor where his apartament was and made his way to the end of the hall with quick steps. He inserted the code and the metal door unlocked, opening it to get inside. He slipped his shoes off coughing and made his way to the living room.
"Got here earlier than any other days, something happened?" Said Chan not even sparring any glance to Minho, being focused at his laptop, probably making another or something.
"Are you tracking me or something?" He plopped down on the couch next to the older, his bag sliding off his shoulder and onto the floor. "And shouldn't you be at work?"
"I'm going to work at 8pm, is barely 7pm. That's why I'm surprised you are home this early."
"Nothing happened, just couldn't focus." Minho sighed, sliding his hands up to his eyes and rubbing them.
