Secret Love

39| just right

[Not a regular chapter. This one is kinda cringe to me!]

一

Despite Jisung's silent pleas, fate had other plans, and they ended up sharing the same room for the night. "You could have refused," Jisung muttered under his breath, frustration etched on his face. Minho heard the comment but chose not to respond.

Minho's eyes remained fixed on Jisung as he quietly made his way to retrieve a pillow. His mind was consumed by thoughts of the boy standing before him. The soft glow of the room's lamp cast a warm light on Jisung's profile, illuminating the sharp lines of his face and the gentle curve of his lips. Minho's heart ached with a mix of longing and regret as he gazed at Jisung, his thoughts tangled in a web of what-ifs and maybes.

He didn't dare ask Jisung for the pillow. Instead, he moved stealthily, his gaze never leaving Jisung's back, his eyes drinking in the sight of him like a parched traveler at an oasis. As he drew closer, Jisung, oblivious to Minho's presence, suddenly turned around, his eyes widening in surprise as they met Minho's gaze.

Minho towered over Jisung, his taller frame looming gently over him as they stood there, suspended in a moment of mutual surprise. Minho's eyes locked onto Jisung's, his heart racing with anticipation, as Jisung's eyes flashed with slight suprise of closeness.

Minho's chest felt tight, his lungs constricting with the effort of holding back the words that threatened to spill out of him. He wanted to tell Jisung how sorry he was, how much he regretted his past mistakes, how desperately he wanted to make things right between them.

The air was thick with tension as Minho and Jisung stood there, their eyes locked in a silent understanding. Minho's gaze was mesmerized by the gentle curves of Jisung's face, the softness of his features, and the vulnerability that seemed to emanate from his very pores. He looked at Jisung with a sense of wonder, as if he was beholding a delicate flower that might wilt at the slightest touch.

Minho's eyes roamed over Jisung's face, drinking in the sight of him. He saw the faint shadows under his eyes, the subtle tremble of his lips, and the quiet strength that seemed to radiate from his very being. Minho's heart swelled with emotion, his chest tightening with a mix of guilt, regret, and longing. He wanted to reach out and touch Jisung's face, to comfort him, to protect him from the world.

As he looked at Jisung, Minho felt a deep sense of admiration for this fragile, sensitive soul who had been hurt by his own words. He wanted to tell Jisung how sorry he was, how guilty he felt, and how desperately he wanted to make things right between them. He wanted to wrap his arms around Jisung, to hold him close, and to whisper words of comfort in his ear. But the words caught in his throat, trapped behind a wall of fear and uncertainty.

Jisung sensed Minho's gaze, and he felt exposed, like his very soul was being laid bare. He wanted to look away, to escape the intensity of Minho's stare, and slowly, his gaze began to drop. But at that same moment, Minho took a step closer, his movements silent and deliberate. Jisung's eyes snapped back up, meeting Minho's gaze once more. And then, in a movement that seemed almost inevitable, Minho's arms wrapped around Jisung, drawing him into a gentle, enveloping hug. Jisung felt himself being engulfed by Minho's warmth, his scent, his presence. It was a hug that seemed to speak volumes, a hug that conveyed regret, longing, and a deep, abiding connection. As Jisung's body relaxed into Minho's embrace, he felt a sense of surrender, of letting go, that he couldn't quite explain.

The hug was a gentle, wordless embrace, a soft silence that wrapped around them like a warm blanket. Minho held Jisung close, his arms a comforting presence, as Jisung remained quiet, his body tense with surprise. Jisung's eyes darted around the room, his gaze unfocused, as his face nestled into the curve of Minho's shoulder. The warmth of Minho's skin and the gentle pressure of his arms seemed to seep into Jisung's very being, slowly easing the tension from his body. As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the silence between them began to feel less like a chasm and more like a soft, quiet space, a space where words were unnecessary and all that mattered was the gentle, comforting presence of each other.