minsung one shots

notes between heartbeats

ᵈᵉᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ minsungclouds
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fluff. angst. spice / 58637
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everyone knew who lee minho was. the guy who picked fights for fun, always with bruised knuckles and a sharp glare that dared anyone to challenge him. the guy with the black yamaha r1, roaring through the university gates like a king returning to his domain.

it wasn't just the machine itself that drew attention; it was how minho owned it. the sleek, dark leather of his jacket hugging his shoulders, black, slightly baggy jeans clinging to his legs, and a tight black t-shirt that left little to the imagination. his eyes were cool, cutting, and disinterested as if the world around him was a constant disappointment.

everyone had a crush on him. of course they did. it was impossible not to be caught in the magnetic pull of his presence. the way he removed his helmet and shook his head, unruly dark hair settling around his face in perfect disarray.

it was a ritual of pure, devastating grace. people whispered about him in classrooms and hallways, more intrigued by the idea of him than the man himself. and han jisung? jisung was just another moth drawn to the flame.

but jisung was nothing like minho. where minho was composed, controlled, and quiet, jisung was a bundle of restless energy. loud, playful, easily excitable.

he made friends effortlessly, with his laughter as his calling card. but real friends? there were only two who truly understood him. felix, with his endless patience and golden smile, and jeongin, who matched jisung's chaos with sharp wit and a reckless smile.

jisung's world was made of laughter, late-night takeout, and gaming marathons until his eyes burned.

yet even in all his chatter and enthusiasm, he couldn't quite shake the feeling of emptiness. the gnawing knowledge that someone like lee minho would never even glance his way.

because minho was something else. something untouchable. and jisung? jisung was simply a mess in the shape of a human.

minho was a fourth-year student, already so close to stepping out of university life and into something bigger. jisung was only in his third year, stumbling through his classes while his mind frequently drifted to one man who'd probably never learn his name.

and for the last year and two months, jisung had been hopelessly, desperately, head-over-heels in love with lee minho.

he was well aware of how pathetic it was. there was no point in pretending otherwise. and jisung wasn't exactly subtle about his crush, at least not to himself.

he was the kind of person who wore his emotions on his sleeve, whether it was excitement over a new game release or the crushing anxiety of not understanding a damn thing during exams.

but minho? minho was a closed book. no, not even that. minho was a locked book buried under layers of stone and ice, and jisung didn't have the first clue where to even start looking for the key. worse still, he wasn't even sure if minho knew of his existence.

so, what did jisung do with his hopeless, one-sided love? he wrote letters. because of course he did. he wrote them like some lovesick teenager, fingers itching to pour everything his tongue couldn't say.

they weren't love confessions exactly. more like... small notes of admiration. compliments that never saw the light of day. words meant for one person only, and yet delivered like anonymous gifts.

they were simple things:
> your hair looks good today.
> you're so cool.
> your eyes are beautiful.

it was embarrassing and ridiculous and so utterly jisung that it hurt. but he couldn't stop himself. not when writing those notes felt like the only way to get even the smallest fraction of his feelings out before they drove him insane.