Why So Lonely? || Minsung 1/3 ✔️

48

I walk into school, not seeing Minho. Usually, he comes up to me and walks with me. I sigh, missing him. Ever since the night before, I've just wanted to see him. I wanted to hear his voice. To see his smile. To feel how happy he really makes me. I needed the reminder.

Suddenly hands slide around my waist, a warm chest being pressed to my back.

"Good morning, angel," Minho kisses my cheek.

There it was. The skip of my heart. The smile growing on my face. The good feeling.

"Morning, baby."

Just like magic, my worries dissolve into nothingness. Today was going to be fine. I can't stay in my head forever. One day of worries is another day of nothing. I'm okay now.

"The gays were wondering if we wanted to have another movie night? Or at least grab dinner," Min says, kissing my cheek.

"That sounds nice," I respond, turning to hug him back, "when?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. We can ask at lunch. But off-topic, how are you?"

I hum, "I'm better with you here. You?"

"That's good, angel. I'm feeling pretty great today if I'm being honest."

I kiss his neck, nothing more. Hugging him felt nice. I didn't want to let go, but unfortunately, the bell was going to ring soon.

"Ugh, I'm cold. I forgot my sweatshirt, and I just want to go home," I whine, refusing the let the coziness of him go.

"Wear my sweatshirt. I have another one in my locker," he says, pulling away from the hug to slip off his sweatshirt. What I didn't realize was that his shirt came up a bit, letting me peak at his toned skin.

When he gets it off and hands it to me, my face is fully on fire. Wow. He's hot. I wonder if he has a boyfriend- oh yeah. Me.

"Why are you so red?" He smugly grins, knowing that I had seen his stomach.

"No reason," I quickly spat, taking the sweatshirt from him and letting my arms go in first before pulling it over my head. His scent immediately filled my nostrils, sprinkling me with a protected feeling.

The heat from it was the kind of heat that you fall asleep to while in the car. It was too comforting. I was screwed. I didn't sleep last night, and I was sure that I was going to fall asleep in one or two classes.

"Let's go to a class, dork," he laughs, seeing me get comfortable.

I grasp his hand, the warmth of it matching the sweatshirt. Our hands slightly swing, but we're walking too close for it to swing outside of our bodies. The bell rings as we're on our way, letting us know that school has officially begun and we have four minutes to get to class.

We reach the classroom, sitting in our designated spots. I get out my notebook, flipping to where we left off with the notes. Minho does the same, his pencil having a different idea and rolling off of the desk.

We both reach down to grab it, hitting our heads together. I giggle, picking it up and handing it to him, "dumbass."

He smiles apologetically, thanking me before our attention got pulled away by the teacher walking in and the bell ringing.