Maybe, just maybe - Minsung

Chapter six

Morning rain taps gently against the window, casting a grey light over the living room and draping the couch in a muted, comforting haze where Minho and Jisung are sprawled, watching a documentary on serval cats. As Minho reaches for the remote to switch channels, an awkward angle causes him to jostle his hand. The remote slips from his grasp, flying through the air and landing with a thud near the bookshelf.

A sharp pain flares in his wrist, and he involuntarily whimpers, clutching his injury close to his chest. Jisung's gaze shifts from the TV to Minho, eyes widening in concern.

"You should get that checked out," Jisung says, his morning voice rasping with genuine worry. He sounds more like an annoyed mother than a casual observer.

Minho waves his other hand dismissively, despite the discomfort. "That's not necessary. I googled it—said it'll be fine in two weeks. And it doesn't even hurt that much."

Jisung scoffs, unimpressed. "Right, because Google is the ultimate authority on medical advice. Let me guess, you're planning to self-diagnose next?"

"Pretty much," Minho replies with a weak grin. "I'll just put some ice on it or something. I'm sure it'll help."

But Jisung is already up and moving towards his bedroom. Minho sighs and tries to make himself comfortable again, hoping the pain will subside on its own. A few moments later, Jisung returns, carrying a red first-aid kit. He tosses it onto the coffee table with a flourish before heading to the kitchen. There, he grabs a pack of pain relievers, a glass of water, and an ice-filled pouch.

With determined efficiency, Jisung settles back on the couch next to Minho. He gently takes Minho's arm and adjusts it to a straight angle. Minho winces at the twinge of torment but keeps his complaints to himself, wary of Jisung's disapproving glare. "I can handle this myself, you know," he mutters, though he makes no move to stop Jisung.

"Just let me be nice to you," Jisung replies with a sigh. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?" His hands work skillfully to unwrap the old bandage, revealing a swollen, purple bruise and a few minor scratches on Minho's wrist.

"Is all of this from our little fight?" Jisung's voice takes on a tone of gentle reproach as he grabs an alcohol wipe to disinfect the area.

Minho hums. "Sort of. But I can't say I've really been taking care of it, either. It's just been a hassle."

"It's not a hassle to take care of yourself," Jisung instructs firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He presses the ice pack against Minho's wrist, applying gentle pressure. When he looks up, Minho catches the faintest hint of anxiety in his eyes.

While attempting to concentrate on the jumping Serval on TV, Minho squints his nose at the pain and cold. "It's a hassle if it interferes with my work."

The latter's curiosity is piqued. "Where do you work?"

"'Meow Café', it's just down the street," Minho replies, the distraction of conversation helping to take his mind off the discomfort, and Jisung's touch is soothing as he tends to Minho's injury.

The younger boy's eyes widen with recognition. "Oh, right! I've seen a hot guy working there before. Lucky me, huh? He's my roommate now," he says with a cheeky grin, shooting Minho a playful wink.

Fighting back a smile of his own, Minho throws his eyes for a run. "Enough about me. What about you? Do you work somewhere?"

"I work at my parents' drugstore, just a few shops away from your café," Jisung says, shrugging casually.

The white-haired boy raises an eyebrow with a sneer. "How cute. I guess that's where you learned all of this?" He refers to Jisung's surprising medical skills.