På en skole hvor to forskellige verdener syntes at eksistere side om side. På den ene side var der en pige med en strålende aura, der tiltrak både opmærksomhed og beundring fra alle omkring hende. Hendes glatte, lyse hud og brune hår strålede, mens hun bevægede sig elegant gennem skolens gange.
På den modsatte side var der en person, hvis eksistens næsten virkede som en skygge i forhold til hendes lys. Mens hun var omgivet af en flok beundrende kammerater, befandt han sig ofte alene, dybt fordybet i sine egne tanker.
Mellem dem opstod en usagt forbindelse, en række øjenkontakter, der var mere end tilfældige. Hun var ny på skolen og skinnede som en stjerne på en nattehimmel. Han, derimod, var en skjult mester i boksekunsten, en titel han bar med stolthed og beskedenhed.
På trods af deres tilsyneladende forskellige verdener, delte de en passion for kampkunst. Hun var en mester i taekwondo, mens han regerede som den ubestridte Sjællandske og Danske mester i boksning. Deres veje krydsedes sjældent, men når de gjorde, var det som om, tiden stod stille, og en usynlig forbindelse opstod mellem dem.
Men bag den strålende facade gemte der sig en dybere historie, en historie om en bagvedliggende identitet, der sjældent så dagens lys. Hans dybe tanker og skjulte følelser var som et teaterstykke, der kun blev opført i det inderste af hans sind.
Historien om disse to, hvor lys mødte skygge, hvor øjenkontakt var deres stille sprog, og hvor kampkunsten forenede dem på trods af deres forskelle, ventede på at blive fortalt i al sin spænding og skønhed.
❝ a little death ❞
minsung | stepbrothers | slow burn to hell
make me feel like somebody else
when you're touching me, touching me
never felt so holy and ruined at the same time
Lee Minho was fourteen when he sold his soul for a jar of strawberry jam and a smile he wasn't allowed to want.
Han Jisung was twelve, loud, sticky-fingered, and wearing Minho's hoodie like it was made for him.
He didn't know that one look turned his new step-brother into a walking graveyard of sins that hadn't happened yet.
Eight years.
Eight years of teeth and silence and "don't come in, I'm changing" and "stop stealing my fucking shirts, Jisung-ah."
Eight years of Minho loving him so hard it felt like dying every single day, just a little.
A little death by a thousand almosts.
They share a house.
They share a bathroom.
They share parents, a last name, and a secret that would burn the whole thing down if it ever slipped out.
This is not a love story.
This is a confession.
This is blasphemy in the shape of two boys who call each other "hyung" and "Sungie" while pretending their hands don't shake when they brush.
Touch me like a prayer you're scared to say out loud.
Ruin me slow.
Make me yours in every way the world won't let us be.
(And when we finally break,
let it be quiet.
Let it be sacred.
Let it be the kind of death that feels like coming home.)
⛧ slow burn so slow it hurts
⛧ stepbrothers (yes, really)
⛧ no one dates anyone until chapter 20 (i'm not kidding)
⛧ strong language, religious guilt, and too many almost-kisses
⛧ inspired by "a little death" the neighbourhood
you shouldn't want this.
you're going to read it anyway.
welcome to the sin.
hope you brought holy water.