Small world.

Three weeks had passed since the accident that had nearly stolen Jisung from him. Three weeks of quiet healing, of Minho's unwavering devotion, a tender fortress built around Jisung in their small apartment. When Jisung got his hearing back to its full recovery, it was the happiest moment of their life. 

The bond between them, forged in the crucible of fear and guilt, had deepened into something profound and unbreakable--Minho has made sure about it. Minho remained a constant presence at home, his universe shrinking to revolve entirely around Jisung within the familiar walls of their place-- like an orbit rotating around the earth.

Jisung, on the other hand, had slowly, cautiously, begun to re-engage with the world outside, returning to his university classes. Minho would drop him off each morning, watch him disappear amidst the vibrant surroundings of the campus, and then, instead of attending his own classes, he would simply return to their apartment.

His architectural projects, something he always done with passion, now lay half-finished, gathering dust in their rented space. The intricate model of a building that took months of work from his life before, sat abandoned on their shared study table. Minho would occasionally glance at it, a dull ache in his chest – a future he no longer felt he had in this borrowed time.

One afternoon, as Minho sat at the table, idly trimming a piece of balsa wood, the silence of their apartment was punctuated only by the soft scratching of Jisung's pen. Minho hunched over his project building model to show Jisung that he was working and Jisung was engrossed in his notebook as he worked on new lyrics. The humid air  hung heavy, carrying the distant sounds of the neighborhood.

"Ah, shit!" Minho yelped, a sharp sting on his finger. The small, sharp blade he was using had slipped, cutting into the pad of his index finger. He immediately brought it to his mouth, sucking hard, a grimace on his face.

Jisung flinched, the sound startling him from his lyrical trance in their shared living space. He looked up, his gaze immediately going to Minho, concern etched on his features. He saw Minho sucking his finger, then glanced down at the neglected model on their table.

Jisung had been noticing within the confines of their apartment. Minho's absence from his online classes, his half-hearted attempts at assignments, the way he would just laze around their rented space instead of throwing himself into his studies as he once had.

For weeks, he'd bitten his tongue, afraid to disrupt the delicate tenderness that now enveloped them, afraid of losing this Minho who was so present, so caring in their temporary home. Jisung knew Minho's future, their future, depended on his studies as well.

"Minho!" Jisung signed, his movements firm, a hint of his old feistiness returning within the familiar surroundings of their apartment. "What are you doing? Why aren't you attending your classes? You haven't touched this project seriously in weeks!" His gaze softened slightly as he looked at Minho's fingers.

"And now you're hurting yourself. This isn't like you." He signed, his brow furrowed. 

Minho winced, not just from the cut, but from the gentle reprimand in the safety of their apartment. He knew Jisung was right. He also knew why he couldn't. But he couldn't tell him, not in their peaceful haven. To satisfy the boy, to keep that hopeful light in Jisung's eyes burning within their shared space, Minho sighed internally. He nodded, offering a small, weak smile.

 "You're right," he muttered, picking up the dusty model. "I'll get to it. Soon." He didn't say he'd attend classes, but he'd pretend to work again. It was enough to appease Jisung, for now, within the familiar comfort of their apartment. He would play the part, for Jisung's sake, in their temporary  life.

Jisung, ever attentive, was not satisfied with just Minho's vague promise. He pushed his chair back from the study table, the soft scrape echoing in the quiet room. He rose and moved towards Minho's side, his eyes still fixed on the small cut on Minho's finger. Gently, he took Minho's hand in his own, his thumb lightly brushing the small wound, inspecting it with a soft frown. Minho felt a tender warmth spread through him at the simple, caring gesture.

Jisung then signed, his movements quick and clear. "Wait here. I'll get a band-aid." He started to pull his hand away, ready to get up and head for the bathroom cabinet.

But before Jisung could move, Minho acted on an impulse, a sudden, overwhelming need for closeness that had been building inside him, fueled by the ticking clock of his remaining time. With a soft tug, he pulled Jisung forward, steadying him with an arm around his waist, until Jisung tumbled softly onto his lap. Jisung let out a surprised gasp, a small, delightful sound, as he found himself straddling Minho's thighs, his legs tangling with Minho's beneath the table.

Jisung looked down at him, his eyes wide, a blush slowly creeping up his neck. Minho's gaze was intense, burning with a raw tenderness that made Jisung's heart flutter. Minho's hands settled firmly on Jisung's waist, pulling him even closer until there was no space left between them.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Minho began to pepper soft kisses on Jisung's flushed cheeks, tracing the curve of Jisung's jaw with the tip of his nose. He moved, his lips soft and warm, nuzzling from Jisung's cheek to his jawline, down to the sensitive skin behind his ear, then to the slender curve of his neck, before finding the soft skin at the backside of his neck.

Minho's arms tightened around Jisung, pulling him into a possessive, desperate embrace. Jisung's breath caught in his throat, a small gulping sound escaping him. His body began to tremble, a soft, involuntary shiver that was part awe, part overwhelming, part the sheer intensity of Minho's affection.

He slowly leaned into Minho, his hands finding it's way on Minho's shoulders, his mind reeling in the sweet, suffocating warmth of the moment. The distant sounds of vehicles faded, and all that existed was the beating of their two hearts, pressed impossibly close, eyes closed with small smile etched on their faces. 

"Jisung-ah," Jisung hummed, his body trembling when he felt Minho's hot breath hitting onto the back of his neck. Minho placed a small kiss there. 

"If someone one day approaches you, saying they will be able to return your voice, what will you do?" Jisung looked up at Minho as he adjusted himself on Minho's lap.

"I never thought about it."

"Then you should." Minho smiled, "If someone says that they can help you don't hesitate to accept it,"

"Why are we talking about this suddenly?" Jisung signed, his face showing that he was confused with sudden talk about his voice that they have never thought about talking about. The topic was always avoided because for Jisung getting back his voice was out of his dreams. Minho pulled him closer, placing a small kiss onto his forehead.

"Just... I saw a dream where someone was saying that you will get your voice back if you do surgery. Maybe it's an angel."

"Aren't you an atheist?" Jisung giggled making Minho smile.

"When it comes to you, I can't help but believe."

_________

Finally I'm okay.