On Track | MINSUNG

30

Jisung was more out of it than he'd ever been. He still hadn't said anything, other than little whimpery sounds. His eyelids fluttered, eyes half lidded, and when he did look at Minho, Jisung's eyes were unfocused.

Minho's heart beat uneasily in his chest. There wasn't much he could do, besides making sure Jisung was looked after. He pressed tender kisses to each of Jisung's wrists, gently rubbing aloe vera on the sore skin where the rope had been.

Jisung shifted close to Minho, whimpering his name. Minho ran his fingers through Jisung's hair, brushing his lips over his shoulder. 'I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here.'

Jisung looked up at Minho, struggling to focus on him before closing his eyes again. 'Mi-Minho.'

'Jisung,' Minho murmured against his skin.

Jisung sniffed his wrist. 'Smells nice,' he mumbled.

'It'll help your skin, sweetheart. Do your wrists hurt?'

Jisung nodded sleepily. 'Yeah.'

Minho was glad Jisung was talking now, his fingers skirting over Minho's skin. It eased his worry, the weight on his chest lessening, replaced by relief. Relief from what, he couldn't say, other than the fear of having hurt Jisung beyond comprehension. 'Are you thirsty, sweetheart? Want some water?'

Jisung blinked at him, slowly sitting up. He whimpered, a wince crossing his face. 'Sore.'

Minho took a deep breath. He wished he could take Jisung's pain, every bit of it, soak it out of Jisung's body into his own. Jisung's pained noises broke something in him, that part of his heart that believed Minho could keep Jisung completely safe, keep him from pain.

'Come lie back down, sweetheart,' Minho coaxed, pulling Jisung back down to him. He nuzzled against Jisung's neck, holding him close.

'Want a painkiller? Water?' Minho asked, drawing shapes on Jisung's hipbone.

Jisung nodded, but then he tensed, grabbing, Minho's wrist, his eyes wide and frantic. 'No. No, don't go.'

'I won't, they're in my bag. I only have to get up, I won't even leave the room.'

Jisung shook his head. 'No. Stay.'

Minho eyed his bag. It was on the other side of room, in front of his wardrobe, but his room was small. 'I could still touch you, sweetheart. I could hold your hand, so you know I'm not going anywhere.'

Jisung hesitated. 'Okay.'

Minho untangled himself from Jisung, standing up. He held out his hand and Jisung laced their fingers, squeezing his hand tightly. Jisung moved to the edge of the bed, his arm outstretched. Minho's stretched both his arms, grabbing a handle of his bag and dragging it forward.

Minho had never been so glad his room was only a little more than three arms wide. He crouched in front of the bed, Jisung letting go of his hand to press his hands to Minho's back, his shoulders, trying to pull him into him.

Minho rooted through his bag for the painkillers he kept for dance. He popped two out, unscrewing the lid of his water bottle. 'Here, sweetheart, sit up for me for a minute.'

Jisung complied, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and taking the tablets from Minho. Swallowing them with gulps of water, he offered the bottle to Minho.

By now, Minho knew how this worked. He took a few sips to appease Jisung then handed it back. 'Finish it, sweetheart.'

Jisung drank it down quickly, handing Minho the empty bottle. Minho shoved it back in his bag, standing up. Jisung reached for him, and Minho crawled back into bed next to him, pulling Jisung closer, reaching to turn the light off before pulling the duvet over them.