Maybe, just maybe - Minsung

Chapter twelve

NOTE: I'm so sorry

I know this chapter's way overdue, but I've been drowning, honestly. Rent was due, finals came charging in, and then I got hit with a ridiculous amount of work from three different companies. My business nearly had a meltdown too, so I had to focus on that—and in the rare moments of free time, I've been fully immersed in The Office (don't judge, I needed it)

And after a solid binge-watch of the entire series, I'm happy to report that I've come up with seven new fic ideas—each one office-themed and filled with office romances that will definitely never see the light of day. You're welcome

So, here's the deal: expect a new chapter next Sunday (maybe) But don't get mad if it doesn't happen—I'm already carrying a ton of disappointment from my dad, so there's no need to add to it in the comments (jk, or no, not really, i wish i was joking)

Here's my proposition: you can be disappointed. Just don't tell me about it, yeah? 😭 Deal? Great

Oh and also, be warned of the grammatical errors, english isn't my first language and this was written in a rush

***

The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains of Minho's bedroom, casting a serene glow across the space. Minho wakes first, as he often does, lying still and savouring the warmth of Jisung beside him. The boy in question is still asleep, curled up in one of Minho's oversized shirts that somehow fits him better than it should. Minho can't help but smile at the sight.

Jisung finally stirs, blinking sleepily at Minho, his smile soft and unguarded. After a lazy breakfast prepared by Mrs.Lee and some obligatory cuddles with Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, Minho suggests they explore the city.

"Have you ever been to Gimpo before?" Minho asks as they slip on their jackets and prepare to head out.

Jisung shakes his head. "No. First time. I'm counting on you to be the perfect tour guide."

"Perfect?" Minho snorts. "That's a lot of pressure."

They step outside into a late fall morning. Minho leads the way through his hometown, pointing out local cafes, old haunts from his high school days, and quiet corners of the city that he loves. Jisung takes it all in, wide-eyed and curious, as if every detail fascinates him. It makes Minho feel unexpectedly proud, sharing this side of his world with him.

The air nips at their cheeks, the crunch of leaves beneath their shoes filling the silences between words. The trees lining the road stand tall, their crimson crowns shimmering in the sun, casting shifting shades over the pavement.

Minho's gaze drifts ahead, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "This street used to look a lot different," he says, his voice low, almost as if speaking to himself. "There was this old bakery right where that tailoring place is now. My mom used to take me there every Saturday after dance class." A faint smile tugs at his lips. "I'd always get these little cream-filled buns—they were my favorite."

Jisung hums gingerly, watching Minho's expression as he speaks. His breath puffs out in little clouds that hang in the breeze before disappearing. "You were such a cute kid, huh? Bet the bakery staff adored you."

Minho scoffs, though his ears turn the faintest shade of pink. "Yeah, well. I might've thrown a tantrum or two when they ran out of buns. Can't really blame them for closing down after that."

The wind picks up, rustling the fallen pads around their feet. Minho tugs his jacket tighter around himself.

"Cold?" Jisung asks casually, though there's a teasing lilt to his voice.