Do that again || MINSUNG

XIV

"Minho, I really like your take on this assignment."

The student gleamed at the praise, smiling at the photograph he took. The professor had asked him if he could show it to the class, to which Minho had nodded delightfully. 

"The assignment was to take a picture resembling home, being at peace. This is the picture Minho took, displaying a boy who, assumably, just woke up. The ambiance is calm, every color here is from the same color family. All shades of brown and beige, the dark hair from the boy to the beige walls, the brown couch, the sand-colored hoodie and the white window sill, displaying stars in the night sky. You can feel the soft, peacefulness radiating from this picture, I think by just looking at it, it will calm you down."

Minho had flushed when other students looked at him, some pointing at him and whispering. It made him a bit self conscious, but he had learned to deal with it over the years. Surely, they were talking about his picture, like his professor had done. Breathe in, breathe out. You're fine. 

"Most of you took pictures of your family, friends or an abandoned, quiet place. There is nothing wrong with that; I get how it can feel calming and like home. But, this week's star is Lee Minho."

The mentioned student couldn't just sit still; he was wiggling around in his seat, tapping his foot anxiously with a reddened face, but wearing a smile on his face. It felt nice to be the best out of the class, for once. Even when the professor chose someone else every week, trying to praise everybody. 

"Minho, will you come up and tell us something about your picture?" 

Ah, the scariest part. The young male nodded and stood up, though, trying to keep his breathing pattern normal. 

"I, uh, this is my boyfriend. He was being really cute so I just took a picture," if Minho could blush any brighter, he would have. "Most of the things that line up here were on accident." 

His professor snickered lightly at that, ruffling his student's hair. 

"Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to share this," the older male had said before gesturing that Minho could sit down again. 

It felt nice to have kind people around you. 

"Sometimes the most beautiful things were caused by fate, I suppose."

Minho really appreciated his professor. He was a gentle, caring man. 

But sometimes, his professor could be a real fucking pain in the ass. Write a paper about the effect of ambiances on photographs? How were you supposed to write multiple pages on how a color or place could set the mood?

He always came home earlier than Sungie on Tuesdays, so he was wallowing in his own sadness on his own. Procrastinating, as usual, Minho took his phone out to lazily scroll through his Instagram timeline. Until he received a text message from Jeongin, that is. He had met Jeongin through his photography classes, his first actual friend. Jeongin skipped a class and was allowed to take the photography class Minho was in, even though being a freshman in college. Minho respected him. Of course he still kept in contact with Seungmin, but they were just friends because Minho got bullied and Seungmin pitied him. At least, that was what Minho thought. 

"I think I've met the dude of my dreams," the text read as the older male stifled a chuckle when he typed a short "again?".

Text bubbles appeared quickly and Minho could already imagine how angrily Jeongin was typing. He expected a paragraph, but got a short "he looked my way i gtg cry" and saw how the younger went offline. 

It was quiet in the apartment. Without someone or something distracting Minho, the apartment felt cold, lonely. It really was Jisung who poured sunshine into the place, making it seem so homey, cozy. 

He still had an hour or so until Jisung would come home. Somehow, he felt dizzy, his head fuzzy. Maybe it was the coffee he drank on campus, he should've known that Starbucks espresso cans from a vending machine wouldn't turn out exactly amazing. 

He dragged himself to bed for a short nap, hoping to wake up with Sungie in his arms. 

"Baby?" Jisung had called out once he came home, hanging his coat on the coat rack carefully. When he didn't get a response, he decided to check on his boyfriend, finding him in bed, but not exactly how he was expecting to find Minho. 

The taller was panting roughly with a mild flush on his cheeks, his body sweaty with his hair sticking to his forehead. Shit, was he running a fever?

Jisung put his hand to his boyfriend's forehead, his gaze softening when he felt how hot Minho's cheeks were, reminding him of those times Minho felt too embarrassed to say something which caused his cheeks to flush in his hold. 

He ran a gentle hand through the older's hair, not minding how wet it was. 

"Sungie?" 

Minho's voice was groggy, strained. He definitely was sick, no doubt there.

"Shh, go back to sleep baby. You feel a bit sick, huh? I'll take good care of you, don't worry," Jisung promised, pressing a tender kiss to Minho's nose. 

"I'll be fine, I'm just-" 

The taller had abruptly stopped talking, his hand flying towards his mouth. The younger got the memo, rushing to get a bucket from the bathroom. 

Just mere seconds of Minho having the buckets in his shaky hands, he started vomiting, Jisung running to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He felt like he was running a marathon, going back and forth from the bedroom to the kitchen to get the before-forgotten paper towels, but it was all necessary. It was necessary because Minho was his baby, and he couldn't dare to neglect the older male. 

"Better?" Jisung had asked, petting Minho's hair while the latter sipped his water cautiously, overly aware of his trembling fingers. He nodded, basking in the soothing feeling of his boyfriend taking care of him. 

"I'm finally sick again," Minho had commented when the younger tucked him in, confusion taking over the latter's features.

"Finally, how so? You wanna miss school that badly?" 

"No, you're finally taking care of me like I'm the only thing on earth again. Feels good," the older smiled brightly, his eyes closing as he fell in deep slumber, dreaming of the man that was laying next to him.