After Dark 》Minsung

17 》And Now You

"Hey..." Minho shifted, checking his back in the mirror before calling, "Jisung?"

From the other room, the mentioned bubbled, "Yeah?"

"Can you trim your nails?"

"Did..."

Minho continued to stare at the irritated lines scraped down his back without a hint of mercy as they flowed freely down his muscles. Blooming rosette vines blossoming from his spine, growing where their tendrils were able to reach. Blinking mindlessly as he twisted over his shoulder, following along their erratic patterns reflected in the bathroom mirror, memorizing the lengths they stretched along his back. Only peeling his eyes off the stinging abrasions when the camboy popped his head into the bathroom as well, catching his gaze with a smile possessing the power of a warm spring day, before Jisung noticed the furious scrapes screaming their hatred for the world with every passing second their existence was culminated and that addicting grin fell away to a wide shock.

Jisung gasped lightly.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry. I can help you clean them. I'm so sorry," The cambiy poured the apologies as if he was a broken faucet gushing it's limited supply of water out. Frantically hurrying himself to squeeze into the bathroom as he rushed with that frenzied vibrance scurrying from one side to the other, carefully pressing around Minho with those heartstopping hoodie paws to sift through the cabinets, grabbing up what looked to be a hand towel he kept hidden away in a far drawer now slung over his shoulder, followed by a tube of some type of ointment. Jisung came toward the sink, gaze trained on the hacker as he kept apologizing, "I'm so sorry, Bunny, I didn't—"

"No, no, it's okay. I like it, I actually like it," Minho leaned out of his way, doing his best not to bump the lithe frame by his side as he pumped a little bit of soap into his hand. Watching the camboy work with a strained concentration as his face flushed a heavy blush. A slight pout to his lips that caused the hacker's heart to further hard enough in his chest for him to repress the urge to lean over and kiss the fuck out of Jisung while he was attempting to help him.

"You have a nice back by the way," Jisung murmured as he pressed away from the sink, quickly rubbing his hands together as the soap frothed up.

Minho smirked at him through the mirror, "Looks even better scratch—"

The cold and soapy hands touched his back.

"Ah FUCK!"

"I'm sorry!!!" 

As Jisung busied himself with meticulously caring for the multitude of threaded scratches on his back, Minho silenced the rest of his complaints in his throat as best as his overdramatic mind was capable of doing. Instead coming to balance himself on the bathroom sink in front of him. The press of his knuckles on the frigid marble swirls supporting his weight while he wordlessly watched the camboy exerting an alert diligence into the task before him, delicate fingers which brushed and lingered in featherlight touches as he did his best to spread that frothed soap on the older's back without eliciting more pained lurched Minho did his utmost to control. The sensation of the hands rubbing into him, if not for the occasional stab from the fresh scratches stinging in protest, swelling a kind of relaxation into Minho.

A pleasant warmth which hovered in the corners of the quiet bathroom while Jisung worked that made him flutter his eyes shut with the amiable touch ghosting bumps along his arms. Treating him in those homely ways as if Minho truly meant something to him, meant more than the clandestine late night meetings and untamed desire lusting for a little more of the other's trained touch. Treating him with a gentleness as he soaked the hand towel and languidly swiped away at the suds of soap spread across his back, more of those content tingles traveling after the touch in wakes of the firing stings, chasing after the camboy's caresses like a timid sunlight racing to catch up to the night. Treating him as if he wasn't the unknown man he was with the fast daubs pressing away what drops of water were left along the lines, blotting bit by bit the aches away.