Maybe, just maybe - Minsung

Chapter eleven

NOTE: Warning: I haven't had the chance to properly proofread this—just wrote it and posted it, so bear with me!

I'm really sorry for the long delay in updates. A lot's been going on, and I've been feeling pretty down lately. This chapter was supposed to be about 7-8k words, but I only managed to finish the first draft at 4.3k. I'll be sure to add the missing bits in the next few chapters! Again, I'm so sorry for the wait, and I hope you can forgive me :(

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The headlights cut through the foggy night as they pull up in front of Minho's family home, the quiet hum of the engine dying out as Minho shifts the car into park. Midnight settles over Gimpo like a thick blanket, the town quieter than the city lights they've left behind. Minho glances over at Jisung, who's stretched out in the passenger seat, fighting back a yawn as he stares through the window. Despite the late hour, there's a spark of energy in his eyes, one that hadn't faded since they started this journey.

"Home sweet home," mutters Minho, pulling his bag from the back seat. He knows the darkness hides the cordial, familiar lines of the house he grew up in, and nostalgia sweeps over his memory as he looks back at Jisung.

The boy shoots him a smirk, raising an eyebrow as he stays firmly seated, his own bag resting at his feet. "You're going in alone, obviously."

"Obviously," Minho deadpans, watching him. "Thought I told you to just stay back in Seoul if you were gonna be a pain." He lets his words settle, a teasing edge to them that's just enough to make Jisung roll his eyes, still holding that lopsided grin of his.

"Oh, don't act like you didn't want the company," Jisung laughs, finally shoving the door open. "Besides, you're the one who'll miss me. And don't worry, I booked a hotel." He waves off Minho's sceptical look, grabbing his own bag with a lazy stretch before straightening up, looking toward the taxi pulling up to the curb for him.

Jisung holds Minho's gaze for a lingering second, the warmth of the car suddenly gone as the cool night breeze flumps between them. He tips an imaginary hat, all sarcasm and easy confidence. "See you in the morning, I guess."

Minho shakes his head, something close to a laugh slipping out. "Right. Try not to get lost on the way there."

Chuckling, Jisung throws his bag over his shoulder and casts one last look at him before climbing into the backseat of the cab.

The yellow vehicle pulls away, red and white bulbs disappearing down the narrow street. Minho stands in the lone tranquillity, the faint glow of the house light spilling out onto the driveway. For a moment, he considers calling Jisung, half expecting to find him standing there beside him. Or maybe that's just his stupid thoughts talking. Jisung didn't come to Gimpo for Minho's sake.

And it's not like Minho explicitly asked Jisung to be here. He practically invited himself when he found Minho packing his things after that night—the night. The one that left Minho sneaking out of his room at dawn, grabbing a towel, just to clear his head under a freezing shower.

Of course, when he finished, Jisung was already awake, bags insufficiently packed by the front door. It took about five seconds of Jisung's smug grin and quick, "Guess I'm coming with you," for Minho to realise he wasn't about to make this trip alone.

But it's not like he said no, either. Maybe part of him felt—well, happy isn't the word, but something close enough to it. Excited perhaps. Maybe he just wanted another excuse to spend time with Jisung, whether he'd admit it or not.