CHAEBEOL | minsung

forty-three

*ੈ✩‧₊˚◦◦,𓇻

"Minho, quick- Minho, fucking get in here now!"

Jisung's voice was hushed, but the urgency underneath it carried it from the living room to the kitchen, where Minho had a pot balancing under the sink. One hand swirled through the rice in the pot, the grains blooming cloudy in the pot. Jisung was shouting him, but the rice needed washing. 

"Minho! I swear to God, this is important-"

The rice needed washing. Jisung could wait; if anything, Minho had made it his own personal mission to make Jisung wait for things. He'd learned over the last few weeks that the rich could be horrifically impatient. 

Another swirl of water in the pot, murky water tipped out, refilled with crystal clear water from the tap-

"Dori is curled up asleep on my chest right now, and you're missing it!"

It's a miracle that the crashing sound of the pot hitting the base of the sink, followed by a thousand rice grains landing with a wet thump, wasn't enough to wake the small dark cat that had tucked itself in a perfect circle on top of an astounded Jisung's chest. 

Minho had found it funny, the fact that Dori, his youngest cat, seemed to have some sort of unforgiveable aversion to Jisung. Soonie and Doongie had warmed up quickly (which Jisung had felt pretty proud about, until Minho reminded him that those two would warm up to a serial killer, too, if he had a Churu in one hand and a toy in the other) but Dori had always been more skittish. 

Yet here he was. Sound asleep, even as Jisung near enough vibrated with joy. Minho creeped closer, confirming his suspicions; Dori was purring. 

"He likes me," Jisung mumbled, voice muted, eyes flicking between Minho and the cat. 

"At least someone does," Minho muttered back, but even as he did, he ruffled a surprisingly gentle hand through Jisung's hair.

The rice had been forgotten about, the sound of the tap still running in the kitchen becoming background noise as Minho settled himself carefully into the spare spot on the other end of the couch. 

Minho had asked Jisung to come round for the same reason he had every night that week - to finalise the Maths project that was looming closer and closer with each breath. And, like every other night that week, the project had quickly been forgotten about. Minho loved excuses; a kiss here turned into sex there, a stomach rumble morphed into a three-course meal prepared for them both, a glance in the wrong direction was easily reconstructed into a several-hour-long Mario Kart battle. 

Minho's priorities were clear. At the bottom of the list, the Maths project. Around the middle, food, basic needs. Moving closer to the top was Jisung, and then right at the pinnacle, unmoving and unchanging, was Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. 

A quick movement was enough to grab Jisung's attention without also snaring a glare from Dori, and Minho had snapped a photo. He took another one when Jisung grinned and threw up a peace sign in the direction of the camera. 

The phone was almost back in Minho's pocket. Almost. A low buzz finally drew a critical look from Dori, and then the cat was up, scampering out of the room. 

"No!" Jisung cried, "We were making so much progress!"

He was about to turn his frustration onto Minho before the look on Minho's face smoothed out the start of a frown on Jisung's. Or, more, the lack of expression on Minho's face. The lack of colour. The lack of movement. 

"Have you died? What's the matter?" snarked Jisung. He was already leaning back against the couch, readjusting the position that he'd set in stone so as not to disrupt Dori. "Min? What's up?"