Minho woke up, in his arms that little boy who was starting to become his constant thought. His cute face wasn't serene even during his sleep. Han's lips were pursed, his eyebrows furrowed, his lids moved as if to chase away some image.

Minho was tempted to move the younger's fringe to reveal that little scar he had on his forehead, but he held back. Han would show it to him when he was ready.

Suddently Jisung's hand squeezed Minho's shirt harder and his lips parted, starting to mumble incomprehensible words.

«Jisung?» he tried to call him, stroking his dark hair, but Han seemed more and more agitated and his words became clearer and clearer. 

«Stop it. Please, stop it.» he begged, narrowing his eyes in a frightened grimace.

Minho felt a shiver run down his spine. Who was he begging? It was just a nightmare, right? 

Two tears flowed from the still closed eyes of the younger one and Minho started shaking him slightly: «Wake up, Jisung! It's just a nightmare!»

Han finally opened his eyes with a sob. His pupils were very small, his eyes scared, sweat beaded his forehead. 

«A mirror, I need a mirror» he murmured, touching his face repeatedly and getting off the bed. Minho didn't have time to speak as Han had already disappeared into the bathroom. He got up and followed him, finding the shaking boy at the sink staring at his own face. It was as if he was looking for something on his skin or, rather, as if he was making sure there was nothing there.

Minho kept a distance so as not to startle him and Han turned on the faucet, starting to rinse his face as the sobs were still shaking him.

«Ji?» Minho walked towards him and cautiously put a hand on his shoulder, «You are safe here»

Han raised his face, still dripping, and threw himself into Minho's arms, wetting his t-shirt completely. But Minho didn't care. He promptly returned the hug and started leaving little kisses on the younger's head.

«My little Jisung...» he murmured, cuddling him.

Han was crying so hard, in so much pain that Minho wished he could rip from the younger's mind the images that tormented him so much. They must have been awful.

«T-two years have passed...» Han sobbed, into Minho's shirt. His eyes closed, his forehead resting on the other's chest. «And I still can't get rid of him» 

Minho held him tighter, continuing to stroke his back: «Two years from what?» 

«Since I left him.» Han muttered, but knew he wouldn't be able to say anything else. And Minho knew it too.

"They aren't just nightmares." Minho thought, clenching his jaw, "They are memories."

He pushed away the thought of wanting to find whoever had hurt Han to do who-knows-what to him. It was useless and Minho knew it. Revenge didn't erase what had happened, it wouldn't stop Han's nightmares. 

So he concentrated on the boy who kept clutching at his shirt like a life preserver.

«Give yourself time, Ji.» he just said, detaching him from his body just to take him by the hand and lead him to the sofa. He sit up and sat Han in his arms, starting to cuddle him again.

«I'm here with you» he mumbled, hugging him tight.

He loved all this physical contact with the younger. Han seemed to be completely shut down emotionally, but physically, whatever happened to him, he still manages to make himself being hugged. At least from Minho.

Han's sobs subsided and he was about to fall asleep again when the phone alarm rang. It was Tuesday, after all, he had to go to the Café.

He snorted loudly and turned his eyes to Minho, blushing at the closeness of his face as if until then he hadn't realized he was entwined with the boy.

«I-I better go» he stammered, moving away from the sofa and rubbing his eyes.

Minho let go of his hand reluctantly and watched him disappear into his room. Then he went to the stove to prepare Han a quick breakfast, while the boy was getting ready for the day.

«Eat something» he said, as soon as he saw Han coming out of the room, fully dressed.

«Oh, I don't usually have breakfast...» Han muttered, glancing at Minho's quickly prepared dishes.

«You don't leave Lee Minho's house without eating something.» the landlord snapped, waving a spoon in the air, «Plus Haru would kill me, so sit down!» he added, as two of his cats started demanding food.

«Now I'm coming to you too, don't worry» he said cutely to them.

Han smiled watching the scene. Minho was so caring with his cats too. As with him. And he certainly couldn't refuse all that concern.

He sits at the kitchen island and starts eating something cooked by Minho. His eyes widen at the first bite: it was delicious!

He glanced at the older one, who was petting Dori as he poured kibble to all three cats, and he held back a laugh at what had come to his mind.

"He is the perfect husband", Han had thought. 

Minho sat down too and began to taste his breakfast, occasionally glancing at Han, who had a full mouth and puffy cheeks.

«Cute» he murmured to himself, smiling.

«What?» Han asked, blushing slightly. He had heard it.

«You are cute, with swollen cheeks» Minho repeated, crossing those round eyes.

Han tried to concentrate on swallowing what was in his mouth, so as not to make everything go the wrong way and suffocate him, and checked the time just to have an excuse to look away from that intense gaze.

With his mouth still full, he quickly got up from the table: «Have to go! See you later?» he asked, without thinking too much.

Was he assuming Minho would pick him up at the end of the shift? As if they were... What? A couple?

He tried not to blush and keep his expression indifferent as he waited for an answer.

«I have rehearsals until late today» Minho explained, «I will pick you up tomorrow»

Han felt a pang in the heart. Was only him who felt so sad and empty at the idea of not seeing the other for one evening? Minho had said it like it was... Nothing.

«It's okay» he just said, «See you tomorrow then!» Han waved his hand in his direction and run away before Minho could even get close.

.           .          . 

Han had kept raising his head automatically every time the Café door made its usual chirp, despite knowing that Minho would not be coming that afternoon. He cleaned the machines and rearranged the piano bar. He didn't have to make any iced Americans to leave aside that night and that thought saddened him.

He took off his yellow apron and, putting on the hat he had received from Minho and his sweatshirt, he greeted Chan: «I'm going»

«Minho?» the older asks, surprised not to see the trainee at the door.

«He has trainee things to do» Han murmured, trying to hide the sadness in his voice. He had seen him only a few hours before, they had slept in each other's arms, how was it possible that he already missed him so much?

«See you tomorrow, Han!» Chan greeted him with a warm smile, getting ready to close the café.

Han found himself barely returning that smile - since when had he started smiling at others again? - and he walked towards home.

His hands were cold, October was upon them and the air was freezing. His breath formed little clouds in front of his mouth.

The street was silent, too silent. It had never been a problem for Han, but lately he'd gotten used to sharing that silence with someone else. And just hearing Minho's breath beside him filled that void and made it comforting. 

He grabbed the earphones from his pocket and played a song. All that silence left too much room for his thoughts and, no, he didn't want to be overwhelmed again.

Not today, not after spending the night at Minho's.

He found himself smiling as he thought of their embracing bodies. It had all been so natural, so spontaneous and now he found himself blushing at the thought.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, that strange boy had already won his heart. And Han's heart, despite the scars and the bleeding wounds, had started giving him warmth again. And that warmth was so reassuring.

He arrived home with a smile and his mother greeted him from the kitchen.

«You have to tell me about last night, little playboy!» she yelled, making him roll his eyes.  

«I have nothing to tell, you pervert!» he laughed, climbing the stairs and throwing himself on the bed. He pulled out his phone, unable to get Minho out of his head. He wanted to hear from him so badly that just the thought of getting a text from him made him smile like a fool.

But there was no notification. Still no news from the dancer.

"He's busy, he'll text you later" he thought, slipping off his clothes and heading to the bathroom for a relaxing shower.

He had dinner with his mother who never ceased to fill him with embarrassing questions - admit it, you would have done the same in her place - and then he returned to his room, convinced to find at least one notification. 

But when he grabbed his phone, his smile faded. No message from Minho.

Han made an enormous effort not to drown in the self-destructive thoughts that haunted him. "He's just busy and tired, he's been dancing all afternoon." he kept repeating to himself and he looked for something to do to keep his mind busy.

He grabbed his notebook and a pen. He quickly reread the sentences he had written so far in the last few weeks and, he realized, that they were all addressed to Minho.

"I know how it starts.

Trust me, I've been broken before."

"I know how it feels, to be open

And then find out your love isn't real."

"Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you."

Han began to hum a tune that came to his mind reading those words and added a couple of sentences, rearranging the lyrics of what seemed to be his next song, the first in a long time.

"Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you.

So, please don't break my heart,

Don't tear me apart,

I know how it starts

Trust me, I've been broken before.

I've been broken, yeah

I know how it feels, to be open

And then find out your love isn't real"

A tear rolled down his cheek as he continued to sing that melody, those words. 

He'd tried to keep him away at first, because yes, he'd known those feelings before. The fact that you can't take your eyes off that person, even though they're sitting across the room and they're not looking at you. The stomach-churning feeling when you makes eye contact with them and the goofy smile that creeps across your face when you think of their jokes.

Han already knew how a romance starts. But he just had never had the pleasure of seeing how love stories usually end.

He didn't want to suffer again, he didn't want Minho to break his heart either. 

"I'm still hurting, yeah

I'm hurting inside

I'm so scared to fall in love"

And after so many months without hearing his own voice sing, Han used for the first time the microphone his mother had given him. He grabbed his guitar, plugged in his computer and started singing, tears still welling up in his eyes.

He was crying, but he was singing.

He was hurting, but he felt alive.

Elle's note:

Hi my staaaaars!! How are you?

I'm here with another chap! I hope you like it and I can't wait to see if you like how the story will go on (I'm writing cap 17th). Let me know what do you think about it <3 

P.S. I can't stop listening to FNF sooooo I made a 4K fan made MV with Surfin', hope you like it!! 

https://youtu.be/u8JFJyQzVVo