✨MIN-HO✨

CHAPTER THREE

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Min-ho felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Like someone had opened a window and pulled everything out.

He was sitting on the tall kitchen stool. His legs were dangling and they didn't even reach the floor. The sweatshirt was too big. Jin-woo's sweatshirt. It swallowed him. The sleeves hung past his hands and the hem came down to his thighs and he felt so small inside it. Like a kid wearing his dad's clothes.

"You... you knew?" Min-ho whispered. His voice cracked in the middle.

Jin-woo was leaning against the marble counter. He was stirring the soup. Slow circles. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn't just ruining Min-ho's entire life with one sentence.

"Min-ho-ya, you aren't exactly a ninja," Jin-woo said. There was a laugh in his voice. Low and warm. It filled up the quiet kitchen. "Every time I post a story, you're the first view. Within thirty seconds. Every single time."

Min-ho's stomach dropped.

"And that photo from my sophomore year trip to Jeju?" Jin-woo kept going. "The one you 'liked' at 3:14 AM last Tuesday and unliked two seconds later? I got the notification. Even if the heart disappeared after."

Min-ho's face was burning. He could feel the heat in his cheeks. He thought he was being careful. He thought he was invisible. A little shadow with glasses in the corner of Jin-woo's bright world. He thought no one saw.

"I even saw you in the library last month," Jin-woo said. His voice got softer. Teasing. "You were hiding behind a copy of Macroeconomic Theory. But you were holding it upside down. Because you were too busy staring at the back of my head. I could see you in the window, Min-ho. Your reflection."

Min-ho didn't move. He couldn't. His hands were tucked between his knees. His brain was playing every single secret moment back to him. The late nights. The staring. The stupid likes. All of it.

"Eat," Jin-woo said gently.

Min-ho didn't reach for the spoon.

Jin-woo sighed. It sounded fond and tired at the same time. He picked up the spoon himself. Blew on the broth. And held it to Min-ho's mouth.

"Since you've lost the use of your limbs from shock, I'll help."

Min-ho opened his mouth without thinking. The soup was warm. Salty. It felt good going down. But he couldn't taste it. Not really. He was too busy trying to breathe. Too busy trying to understand that Jin-woo had seen him. Not just seen him. Watched him back.

When the bowl was half empty, Jin-woo put the spoon down. He reached out and flicked Min-ho's forehead with his finger.

Snap.

"Ow," Min-ho mumbled. He rubbed the spot with his hand.

"That's for being a creep in the shadows instead of just saying hello," Jin-woo said.

Then he moved. He walked around the kitchen island. His movements were smooth. Too smooth. It made Min-ho's heart start tapping hard against his ribs.

Before Min-ho could react, Jin-woo was standing between his knees. His hands were on the armrests of the stool. Trapping him there. And then he leaned in.

The kiss wasn't a question.

Min-ho's eyes went wide behind his glasses. His breath caught. It was firm and warm and it tasted like coffee from that morning. For a second his brain short-circuited. And then his eyes closed.

His hands moved on their own. Two years of wanting. Two years of watching. They reached out and grabbed Jin-woo's shirt. The fabric was solid under his fingers. He held on. Like if he let go he would fall.

A small sound came out of Min-ho's throat. Broken and soft. Jin-woo made the kiss deeper. His tongue moved into Min-ho's mouth and it was bold. It took everything. It made Min-ho's head spin. It was too much. The heat. The cedarwood smell. The way Jin-woo's body was pressed against his knees.

When Jin-woo pulled back, it was because Min-ho was shaking. Because he couldn't breathe.

Min-ho sat there. His chest was moving too fast. His lungs were burning. Slowly his eyes opened. They were wet. Dark. Dazed. His eyelashes were damp and his lips were red and swollen. He looked like he'd been pulled apart and put back together wrong.

Jin-woo made a sound. Low in his throat. His knuckles went white where he was gripping the chair.

"Don't look at me like that," Jin-woo said. His voice was rough. Strained.

And then he turned and walked away. Fast. His footsteps were heavy on the floor. He went to the balcony and pulled the door shut behind him.

The kitchen went quiet. Too quiet.

Min-ho stayed on the stool. Frozen. His ears were ringing. He lifted his hand with fingers that were shaking and touched his lips. He could still feel it. The pressure. The heat. The way Jin-woo had kissed him like he meant it.

His heart felt weird. Like a balloon that had come untied and was floating up to the ceiling. And his legs felt heavy. Like lead.

He had spent two years watching from far away. Two years of thinking that someone like Jin-woo would never look at him twice. Never want to know what his mouth tasted like.

And now this.

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