Chapter Text
The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft sound of Felix's pen tapping against the paper and the low hum of the refrigerator.
Minho found himself caught between reading the questions in the book and letting the boredom take over. With his face propped up on one hand, his gaze kept drifting toward the window, watching the day go by. The street was calm; Felix's neighbor was out walking her dog, a Lhasa Apso that, strangely enough, looked just like her. But other than that, there wasn't much going on.
"Okay, general concepts," he murmured. "Set of measures to prevent microorganisms from entering a sterile field?"
"Uh… asepsis?"
"Sounds right." Felix marked the page and then turned his face toward him. "What would I do without you, hyung?"
"Flunk out?"
"Rude."
Minho let out a breath through his nose, almost a laugh, and looked away. Felix's neighborhood was too quiet at this hour. Too neat. Even the silence felt… orderly.
"And seriously, what's the point of all this theory?" Felix grumbled, pouting.
"You don't think you need to learn before cutting an animal open?"
"Of course I do." He twirled the pen between his fingers. "Doesn't make it any less boring."
"Yeah, I know, Lix."
Silence settled between them again. Out the window, the neighbor was no longer in sight, just a house with a white picket fence and a soccer ball forgotten in the yard.
Minho was about to set the book aside for good when a different sound cut through the air, dragging footsteps, slow, coming from the hallway. He looked up.
A man walked into the kitchen as if he hadn't fully woken up yet. His white T-shirt was wrinkled, hanging loose on his frame; the hoodie and slippers only added to the image. His hair was messy, a few gray strands mixed in with the brown sticking out in all directions, and his eyes were half-lidded, like they were fighting a losing battle to stay open.
"Good afternoon…" came out low, almost raspy.
"Hey, Dad," Felix replied, not even looking up from his book.
Dad? Oh…
Minho blinked quickly, startled, his gaze flicking between them before landing on the man.
Felix had mentioned he lived alone with his dad, but… this was the first time Minho was actually seeing him, and for some reason, he wasn't at all what Minho had expected.
"Check this one out. What's a Metzenbaum scissors used for?" Felix continued, as if nothing had changed. "Option A, to…"
Minho didn't answer, not registering what his friend was saying.
The man moved slowly around the kitchen, opening cabinets on autopilot, still caught somewhere between sleep and reality. Quiet. Almost invisible. But not enough.
Minho glanced quickly at the clock on the wall. 2:25 p.m.
"Hey!"
He turned his head too fast, nearly getting dizzy. Felix was already staring at him, curious.
"I asked if you think it's B. You weren't listening, were you?"
"Ah… no. Sorry."
Felix furrowed his brows, following his gaze over his shoulder. The man was still there, now with the coffee maker running, leaning slightly against the counter as if he needed an extra second to stay upright.
"Dad, you're making Minho uncomfortable," Felix blurted out of nowhere, and Minho's eyes widened slightly.
"Sorry?" The older man's voice came out rough, confused.
He turned his face toward them, and that's when Minho really took in the details. He didn't look like Felix. None of the freckles, none of the lightness. His face was fuller, shoulders broad, his presence… different. Tired, but still steady.
And his almond-shaped eyes, heavy with sleep, landed directly on Minho, making him hold his breath for a second.
"You're making him uncomfortable," Felix repeated, matter-of-factly. "Did you even sleep?"
"Yeah, I slept," he replied, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "I'm just making coffee."
Felix didn't care. He kept his eyes on the older man, waiting. Minho should say something. That he wasn't uncomfortable. That it was fine. But he didn't have time to think fast enough before the man's voice filled the kitchen again.
"Okay… sorry," he said, stepping closer to the table. "I should've introduced myself properly." He stopped beside them and extended his hand. "Han Jisung. Felix's dad."
Minho looked at the hand for a moment before shaking it. The skin was slightly rough, with a few calluses.
"Lee Minho… nice to meet you. And I'm not uncomfortable, really."
"It's fine." Jisung pulled his hand back, shoving it into his pocket, but Minho could still feel it in his own palm. "He always does this when his friends are over. Apparently, I'm not the cool dad anymore."
"You never were," Felix muttered.
"Hey, that's not true," he shot back, pointing at him. "Your friends liked me."
"You bribed them by saying you'd produced music for artists they liked."
"But it was true." He answered, making the blonde roll his eyes and shrug.
Minho tilted his head slightly, curious, and didn't stop himself from joining in.
"You're a producer?" Jisung turned his face toward him, and this time the smile came easier. More awake.
"Yeah. I produce, compose… a bit of everything."
"Sounds interesting."
"Even without the famous artists?" he teased lightly. Minho hesitated for a second.
"Even without them."
The smile he got in return was bigger. Curved almost like a heart. And for some reason, Minho took a little longer than he should have to look away.
"See, Felix?" he said firmly to his son, looking for validation, but the blonde didn't budge.
"You don't have to lie to make him feel good, Min," Felix murmured, but loud enough for his dad to hear.
"Hey, that's not nice," Jisung retorted, but just shook his head afterward. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Minho."
"You too."
He walked back to the coffee maker, pouring himself a cup into a pastel green ceramic mug. It looked handmade, with crooked little flowers painted around it.
"It's not his first time here, you know," Felix commented.
"Great. Then I can stop pretending to be a good host," Jisung replied, already heading out. "I'm gonna work. If you guys want to eat, order something… or make a grilled cheese."
"He can't cook," Felix said as soon as he disappeared down the hall.
"Really?"
"After I got food poisoning, he never tried again." Felix explained, and Minho let out a quiet laugh, still looking in the direction he'd disappeared.
"What did he do?"
"I don't think even he knows." Felix shook his head, finally turning back to the book. "So… B?"
This time, Minho read the question and nodded.
"Yeah. B."
✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧
Exam week came faster than Minho would have liked. The days had been dragging by, faces buried in books, sleepless nights, and sticky notes scattered all over his room.
A week before the exams actually started, Felix decided they needed to "study for real," as if they hadn't already been doing that every day.
According to the blonde, the library was way too crowded, filled with tired, irritable people taking up every available table. So Minho ended up getting dragged to his house on a Monday, but he didn't complain.
Being there was starting to feel… easy. Felix was good company, easygoing, patient, and he always bought food, which helped both Minho's wallet and his usual laziness when it came to cooking.
But this time, they weren't alone.
Hwang Hyunjin was sprawled on the floor of the bedroom, a notebook open in front of him and a pen tucked between his full lips, studying, or at least, trying to.
Within minutes, he'd alternate between flopping onto the carpet, checking his phone, and then putting it down with a dramatic sigh, saying he needed to focus. The phone always won.
Minho just watched the scene repeat itself in silence, going back to his own book whenever he could. They weren't even in the same major; he didn't even know why Hyunjin was there. Not that he cared, it was just… obvious he wasn't there to study.
"This is impossible," Hyunjin complained, for the third time in less than five minutes. Minho sighed, already tired.
"What?"
"This question." He turned his notebook around. "I don't get the answer."
Minho glanced at the slightly crumpled page, full of doodles along the edges.
"I already took sociology. I'm not going back to that."
"Minho, you have to help me." Hyunjin made a near-teary expression.
He looked anything but someone about to beg. Tall, dark hair brushing his shoulders, annoyingly handsome like a model, yet there he was, writhing on the floor in pure dramatics.
"I don't want to."
"You're a terrible hyung." He whined, and then, as if he'd already had a plan and was just waiting for the cue, turned toward the bed. "Felix?"
Felix chuckled quietly, shaking his head, but he made space beside him with two pats on the mattress, and Hyunjin didn't waste a second before throwing himself down next to the blonde.
"Let me see." Felix took the notebook.
"Thanks. You're perfect, Lix," Hyunjin said, his voice way too sweet. Minho wrinkled his nose in disgust.
The explanation started out calm, patient, classic Felix. Minho knew the subject wasn't difficult; he'd only taken it last semester for extra credits. But he noticed when Hyunjin's eyes drifted from the notebook, lifting to Felix's face, lingering there as if he were counting the freckles on the blonde's cheeks.
Minho was torn between laughing and pretending to gag, but he held back, closing his book and setting it aside on the desk.
"I'm going to get some water."
He got a distracted "okay" in response. That was it.
He rolled his eyes at his friends as he left the room, even though they weren't looking. Minho felt more invisible there than he would have at the library, surrounded by dozens of students living off geometry and caffeine.
The hallway was empty, the house almost too quiet. Minho made his way toward the kitchen but stopped at the entrance.
He wasn't greeted by the usual sight of appliances or the wall tile above the sink that looked like a nightmare to clean. First, Minho saw broad shoulders covered by a simple shirt, sloping down to a waist that narrowed.
Minho stared a second longer than he should have. Maybe two.
Jisung moved around the counter without noticing him, distracted. Minho thought about stepping back and waiting for him to leave, but before he could overthink it, he walked in anyway.
"Hi, Mr. Han."
Jisung turned over his shoulder, slightly startled. A pair of dark-rimmed glasses sat on his nose, making him look more serious, more… adult. His clothes looked comfortable, like last time, but now he didn't seem like he'd just rolled out of bed.
"Hi, Minho." He smiled easily, and Minho smiled back, because he'd remembered his name. "Here to study with Felix again?"
"Yeah," he murmured, low.
"Anything special?"
"Exams next week." Minho leaned his arms on the counter as the older man turned his back again. "But I'm zero percent excited about it."
"I can imagine." He laughed, quietly. "Good thing I don't have to go through that anymore."
Minho tilted his head slightly. That caught his attention. He hadn't expected to stop and chat with Felix's dad. The plan was to walk in, be polite to his friend's parent, grab a glass of water, and head back to the books. But…
"What did you study in college?"
"Music," he answered simply, but you could hear the smile in his voice. "The best and worst years of my life."
"I get that." Minho smiled.
"Do you want something?" Jisung asked, turning around again. "I could make you something too."
"No, I just came to get water and…" Minho stopped, noticing what was in the man's hands. A knife and some tomatoes cut every which way. He swallowed carefully before speaking. "Felix told me about the food poisoning…"
Jisung blinked, surprised, then laughed.
"That was one time. And the cream cheese was expired, not my fault."
"That doesn't really help your case."
"It's just a sandwich." He gestured to the ingredients. "I promise it's safe."
Minho hesitated for a second, looking at what else was on the counter, and then nodded.
"Okay. I trust the chef."
"Bold," he laughed softly.
The silence returned just for a second, filled by the sound of the knife against the wooden cutting board.
"You don't like cooking?" Minho leaned his body more heavily against the counter, just watching.
"Not really." He turned toward Minho. "And I also have the gift of making ramen watery and burning pancakes. Honestly, I think it's more of a curse."
"Doesn't the ramen package have instructions?" Minho asked, holding back a laugh.
"Yeah, and I followed them." He sighed. "I told you, it's a curse."
And this time Minho chuckled, shaking his head slowly. It was strange, because he didn't usually talk like this with strangers. Least of all a friend's dad. But there, leaning against the counter, watching Jisung move around the kitchen… It was easy. Natural.
Before Minho knew it, he was already walking around to the other side of the island and leaning against it.
"Do you actually want water?" Jisung opened the fridge, looking inside with one arm resting on the door. "There's soda and energy drinks."
"Soda works."
The older man nodded, grabbing two cans of soda before closing the fridge, handing one to Minho and opening his own.
"And I checked the expiration date on the cheese," the older man said, a playful glint in his eyes.
"Good," Minho smiled, feeling comfortable enough to tease back. "Because if I get sick before the exams, that's on you."
"Damn, you're right. Give me back the sandwich." Jisung reached out toward the younger, expecting the sandwich, but all Minho did was laugh.
"Too late." He took a bite just to prove his point.
Jisung sighed, feigning defeat.
"Well, I tried."
They ate right there, leaning against the counter facing each other. And Minho tried not to stare, he really did, but he failed miserably.
Jisung's arms, the way his shirt fit his body, the relaxed way he stood there… it was too much. Minho looked away, taking a long sip of his soda.
"I'm curious," Jisung started, looking Minho up and down, analyzing. "I've never seen you around here before."
"Oh…" the tips of Minho's ears warmed slightly under the weight of that gaze, but he kept his composure. "We used to meet at my apartment. It's closer to college," he explained. "That was until my new neighbor decided it was okay to play music during the day."
"That sucks." Jisung made a sympathetic face.
"It's fine. I'm already thinking of ways to cut his power as payback." Minho said, and Jisung laughed, one hand in front of his lips.
The sound was nice, still a little rough, but melodic. It made Minho's stomach tighten slightly.
"I should be responsible and say I don't agree with that… but I do."
Minho looked down, smiling. The silence that followed, like the others, wasn't awkward, not for two people who didn't really know each other yet.
Minho occupied himself with his soda, and also with stealing curious glances at the older man when he wasn't looking.
Jisung was quiet too, staring at a spot in the kitchen, then at the window, then back at Minho, where he'd pull the corner of his lips into a casual smile whenever he caught the younger one already looking.
"Won't Felix miss you?" he asked at one point. Maybe one of those times between the comfortable silence and the urge to chit chat.
"No, Hyunjin's with him."
"Oh, Hyunjin." Jisung nodded in understanding, and something in his tone made Minho furrow his brows.
"What?"
"Hm?" Jisung tilted his head, confused. "What?"
"I don't want to be nosy, Mr. Han," he lied. "But what do you know?"
"Besides their long-standing unresolved crush on each other? Nothing much." Minho's eyes widened, and he laughed in disbelief, caught off guard by the honesty. "Why? Do you know more than I do?"
"No," he answered, still smiling. "But even if I did, it feels wrong to conspire with my friend's dad."
"It's not conspiring, it's exchanging information." Jisung tried, lightly tapping his foot against Minho's, who smiled more.
"Same thing." And to change the subject, he added, "And you don't care that they're alone in the room?"
"No?" Jisung furrowed his brows, licking one of his fingers clean with the tip of his tongue, and Minho stared for way too long. "He's an adult. Besides, I did my part as a dad. I bought him a pack of condoms."
Minho's eyes went wide, and he choked on his own saliva, coughing with his hand over his mouth. Jisung stepped away from the counter and moved closer to Minho, concerned, but soon the younger's laughter filled the kitchen, loud and disbelieving.
"Too unfiltered?" Jisung asked, offering his soda can for Minho to recover.
"A little," Minho answered, taking a sip of the fizzy drink.
"Sorry," he said, but both of them were smiling. He didn't bother stepping back, even when the younger one relaxed again.
"It's fine, it was just… unexpected."
And it was strange, because Minho couldn't remember the last time he felt this comfortable around someone.
Meeting friends' parents was always an experience. They could be sweet and kind, like Hyunjin and Seungmin's, another friend of theirs. Or they could be super strict, like Jeongin's, the youngest of them all. Minho could feel the air get heavier whenever the Yangs walked into the room, to the point where it was hard to breathe without feeling judged by their eyes.
And even when they were nice, none of them had ever seemed as open and free as Jisung.
Minho was tempted to ask a little more about him. About his age, his wife, or ex-wife, as Felix had mentioned, and maybe more.
What kind of tastes did he have? Would something equally surprising come out, like saying he preferred Star Trek to Star Wars, or would he even say he didn't like either, that he preferred the extended version of Lord of the Rings and that was all that mattered?
He looked like someone who'd been a bit of a nerd in high school, maybe still was. Minho could picture a geeky shirt tucked somewhere in the older man's closet, loose and worn after all these years.
A band T-shirt from some '80s rock band was almost a sure thing, Minho would bet money on that without losing any sleep.
Jisung's lips parted to finally say something when a voice cut through the kitchen, loud above his own.
"Hyung, I thought you died on the way here." Felix's voice burst their bubble, and Minho turned quickly. Jisung finally stepped back, and Minho ignored the twinge of disappointment.
"I wasn't even gone that long," Minho replied. Or maybe he was, he hadn't been paying attention to the time.
"You guys were talking?" Felix asked.
"Minho kept me company," Jisung answered, smiling sideways. Then he looked behind his son. "Hi, Hyunjin."
"H-hi, Mr. Han." Hyunjin's voice came out nervous.
Minho furrowed his brows and held back a laugh. Hyunjin looked like a giant pinscher about to lose it.
"What were you two doing in the room?" Jisung asked, way too casually.
"What? Nothing. We were just studying," Hyunjin answered too quickly. "Minho was with us earlier too."
Hyunjin was panicking. Wide eyes, face bright red. Minho had to hide his laugh behind his soda can.
"Dad, stop," Felix complained, walking over to the fridge.
"I didn't do anything."
But as he walked past Minho, Jisung winked at him with a smirk bordering on mischievous. Quick. Complicit.
Minho's heart skipped for a second. His hand tightened around the can, the metal nearly denting between his fingers. He didn't return the gesture, just swallowed hard and watched Jisung walk away.
"I'm heading out soon," Jisung announced, already at the kitchen door. "Don't destroy the house."
"Bring dinner on your way back, please," Felix yelled, getting a positive response in the form of an "Okay" from the older man, who disappeared behind the door. "Do you guys want anything to eat?"
Minho stood still for a moment, staring at where he'd disappeared.
"Uh, no. Thanks," Minho finally answered. "Your dad made sandwiches."
"He made you a sandwich?" Felix asked, incredulous. Minho just nodded, confused. "He always complains when I ask him to make me some."
The conversation continued around him, but Minho wasn't really listening anymore. He just nodded along, distracted.
The image of the smile, the wink, it was still circling in his head.
And Minho realized, a little belatedly, that he wasn't so different from Felix's high school friends after all, because he understood perfectly why they all thought Felix's dad was so… cool.
✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧
The third time Minho saw Jisung, he wasn't expecting it. Maybe it had crossed his mind, as a distant possibility, but not enough to prepare himself.
Minho had showered in the hallway bathroom, using Felix's products, lost among the different hair conditioners that he was sure were only so abundant because of his friend's persistent bleaching of his blond hair.
One of the thoughts that wandered through Minho's mind without him noticing was what Jisung's bedroom and bathroom must be like, and whether the scent of his products was similar to Felix's.
No, he doubted that.
On the day they'd run into each other in the kitchen, Minho had caught a trace in the air. The smell of a woody cologne and maybe shaving cream, strong, but pleasant.
Minho wasn't thinking about it because he wanted to snoop; he was just... curious. Jisung's room was the only part of the house he hadn't entered yet, not even seen through a crack in the door.
But when he stepped out of the bathroom, already dressed in whatever he'd tossed into his duffel bag, Minho walked down the hallway without looking at the closed dark wooden door. Even as his fingers tingled, like they wanted to test the doorknob.
Felix was still sprawled on his bedroom floor, laughing to himself at his phone. Minho had to shoo him out with a light shove, ignoring his friend's grumbling as he ushered him toward the bathroom.
Minho flopped onto the couch, face down, his body heavy against the cushions, his cell phone forgotten beside him, and for a long ten minutes he remained like that, almost falling asleep under the weight of the week's exhaustion.
Until the sound of keys in the door made him look up.
It was almost three in the afternoon. Minho had assumed Felix's dad would be at his room or out at the studio. And when Jisung came into view wearing dark jeans, a brown sweater rolled up to his elbows, his hair slightly disheveled as if the day had already gotten to him, Minho knew the second option was the right one.
He paused for a second when he saw Minho, almost imperceptibly, before smiling.
"Minho. Hi." The keys jingled as he hung them up. "Wasn't expecting to see you today."
"Hi, Mr. Han," Minho replied, sitting up a little on the couch. "Felix dragged me over. Sorry for just showing up."
"No, no, it's fine." Jisung waved it off a little too quickly, already walking toward the couch and crossing his arms. "It's nice having you here. Way quieter than Hyunjin and Jeongin."
"Then I'll take advantage of that." Minho smiled, sinking back into the cushions, resting his head on the pillow he'd been using as an armrest, making himself more comfortable.
"Of course." Jisung let out a soft laugh. "Make yourself at home."
Jisung didn't say anything else, but he didn't move away either, standing there beside the couch, his gaze lingering on Minho.
Minho noticed when his eyes dropped, slow, like they shouldn't, trailing over the loose T-shirt, the bare legs under the shorts. When they came back up, it was too fast, almost as if he'd never looked at all.
"Were you two at the gym?" the older man asked.
Minho blinked, trying to figure out if he'd imagined it or if Jisung had actually checked him out. His ears grew warm, and he had to swallow before he could answer.
"Yes..."
Minho gently squeezed at the hem of his shirt, not even realizing he was doing it.
"Hm," Jisung murmured, nodding.
His gaze dropped again.
This time, Minho couldn't possibly be imagining things; even with his mind lighter and slower from sleepiness, he saw how the older man's eyes wavered, betraying him and drifting downwards, checking every inch of the younger man's skin. And even as he struggled to keep his attention on Minho's face, Jisung always seemed to lose the battle in the end.
Minho felt stripped bare, exposed under that dark, heavy gaze, but for some reason, it didn't feel bad. Something restless stirred in his stomach, like butterflies, or maybe bees buzzing, threading through his veins and electrifying everything inside him.
He shifted on the couch, as if that would fix anything. It didn't.
"Do you take dance classes too?" Jisung asked, a spark of interest in his voice.
"Yeah, it's just a hobby." Minho commented, knowing Jisung wasn't asking for no reason. "I also did ballet for a few years."
"Impressive," Jisung said, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek.
Jisung looked more put together today, his hair slightly parted to the side, his face more rested. And now, Minho was certain of the woody scent of his cologne, along with notes of soft vanilla.
And the scent was stronger than before, playing with the younger man's senses like a drug. Even though Jisung wasn't close enough for Minho to be sure, selfishly, he wanted him to be.
Minho settled his face more comfortably against his arms, tilting his head and blinking slowly.
"And you, Mr. Han? Any hobbies?"
"You don't have to call me that." Jisung ignored the question. For the first time, he looked serious, not rude, but composed.
Minho held his breath for a second.
"What should I call you, then?" His own voice came out different. Lighter, slower, sweeter.
Minho had to be losing his mind, and if that was the case, he'd blame it on the sleepless nights so he wouldn't have to carry the guilt alone.
Jisung hesitated. His arms tensed before he uncrossed them, his hands disappearing into his pockets.
"Jisung is fine." He said and Minho nodded, slowly.
"Okay... Jisung."
The name slid out like honey, and Minho was testing the taste on his tongue. It was good, and even better when he remembered that Hyunjin had called him Mr. Han the other day, just like Felix's other friends did when referring to the older man.
Maybe Jisung had made the same request to everyone, but out of respect, none of them had actually gone along with it. But Minho preferred to think of it differently. Exclusively.
Jisung parted his lips to speak, but then stopped. Minho watched his Adam's apple bob.
"Are your exams over?" He asked instead.
"Yeah, they're over. Just one more thing to turn in, but I'll handle that online."
"How were they?"
"Tough." He said, honest. "I barely slept."
"Then why are you here instead of resting?" Jisung frowned, his voice coming out softer than Minho expected.
"Felix wanted company." He shrugged lazily. "And I wasn't really sleepy."
"So you went to the gym and then came all the way here just to keep him company?"
"He does the same for me."
Jisung hummed, a small smile tugging at his lips. Minho watched him through half-closed eyes, exhaustion starting to weigh on him again now that he was still.
"Were you at the studio?" Minho asked, his voice coming out slower, drowsier.
"Yeah. Had a session this morning." Jisung ran a hand through his hair. "Long one."
"Everything finished now?"
"No. But figured I'd take a break." His gaze dropped again, just for a moment, before snapping back up. "You look like you're about to pass out."
"Just tired," Minho murmured, letting his eyes close. "It's comfortable here and… smells good"
He heard Jisung exhale, something between a laugh and a sigh.
"You want a blanket?" Minho shook his head slightly against the pillow.
"'M good."
The warmth of the room, the soft hum of the house, the lingering scent of Jisung's cologne still drifting through the air, it all wrapped around him like a weight, pulling him down.
He was already halfway to sleep when he heard Jisung's voice again, quieter this time, sounding too distant to understand.
"Hm?"
"Nothing. Just rest."
Minho wanted to open his eyes, wanted to see the expression on Jisung's face, but his body wouldn't cooperate. The last thing he felt before drifting off was the faint brush of fingers near his hair, so light he might have imagined it, and then the soft sound of footsteps moving away.
✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧
When Minho woke up, it was to the sound of voices coming from somewhere in the house.
He blinked slowly, disoriented. The living room was bathed in the softer light of late afternoon, with long shadows cast on the walls. His neck ached slightly from the angle he'd been sleeping in, and his mouth felt dry.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, still trying to piece together where he was.
He could hear Felix's voice, animated, laughing, and then another voice, lower, replying.
Right. Felix's place. The couch and… a blanket? Minho picked up the soft fabric between his fingers, frowning. He folded the blanket and left it there, not quite knowing what to do with it or where to put it.
Minho stood, stretching, and made his way toward the kitchen on autopilot, still half-asleep. But when he reached the doorway, he stopped, almost a feeling like deja vu from weeks ago.
Jisung was leaning against the counter, but this time with the pastel green mug in his hands, chatting with Felix. The sweater was gone, leaving only dark jeans and a plain white t-shirt that clung to his body in a way that made Minho's brain freeze for a second.
"I told him I'd listen to the demo tomorrow," Jisung was saying to Felix, then his eyes caught Minho standing in the doorway and he went quiet mid-sentence.
"Oh, you're awake. You were out for like, two hours." Felix turned, smiling and Minho blinked repeatedly.
"Two hours?"
"Yeah, you were dead to the world. Dad said not to wake you." Felix grinned, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and tossing it to Minho, who caught it clumsily. "You looked like you needed it."
Minho glanced at Jisung, who had gone back to sipping his coffee, but there was a slight flush creeping up the back of his neck that Minho definitely noticed.
"You didn't have to…" Minho started.
"You were tired." Jisung cut him off, not quite looking at him. "Wasn't a big deal."
Felix looked between them, something flickering in his expression, curiosity, maybe, but he didn't comment. Instead, he clapped his hands together.
"Alright, since you're up, let's order food. I'm starving."
"Again?" Jisung asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Growing." Felix said it like it was obvious.
Minho chuckled, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long sip. The water helped with the dry mouth and woke him up more, clearing the last of the sleep fog from his head.
But even as Felix started rattling off food options, pulling out his phone to scroll through delivery apps, Minho's attention kept drifting.
Jisung was quiet now, leaning against the counter with his coffee, watching Felix argue with himself over whether to get fried chicken or pizza. There was something softer about him like this, relaxed, at home. The line of his shoulders was loose, the sharpness from earlier smoothed out.
And then Jisung looked up, meeting Minho's eyes over the rim of his mug.
He didn't look away.
Neither did Minho.
It was only a few seconds, it couldn't have been more than that, but it felt longer. Jisung's expression was unreadable, calm, but there was something in his gaze that made Minho's stomach tighten again.
"Hyung." Felix's voice cut through. "Chicken or pizza?"
Minho forced himself to look away, his pulse kicking up for no reason he was willing to name.
"Chicken," he said, his voice steadier than he felt.
"Good. Dad?"
"Whatever you guys want." Jisung's voice was even, unaffected. Like nothing had happened.
But when Minho glanced back, Jisung was already moving toward the door, mug in hand.
"I'm going to my studio for a bit. Text me if you need anything."
"Are you going to eat?" Felix asked, not looking up from his phone.
"I'll grab something later."
He passed by Minho on his way out, close enough that the scent of his cologne, woody, warm, with that same hint of vanilla, wrapped around him again.
And for just a second, Jisung's hand brushed against his arm. Brief. Barely there. But deliberate. And Minho's breath caught.
Jisung didn't stop, didn't turn around, just kept walking down the hall, disappearing into the room at the end, the one Minho had never been inside.
The door clicked shut behind him.
"Hyung? Hello?" Felix waved a hand in front of Minho's face. "You spaced out again."
Minho blinked, tearing his eyes away from the door.
"Sorry," he said, clearing his throat. "Just tired."
Felix squinted at him, clearly not buying it, but he didn't push.
"Sure. Anyway, I'm ordering extra, you're staying for dinner, right?"
Minho nodded, even though his brain was still stuck on the feel of fingers against his arm, the weight of a gaze that lingered too long.
He stayed for dinner. But his mind was somewhere else entirely.