After Dark 》Minsung

32》The Cat That Loved the Moon

"But..." The hacker choked a dying note again. Jisung knew about the ataxia, Jisung knew there was something wrong with him, Jisung knew and he didn't bring it up, he didn't say badly of him. If anything, back then, Jisung seemed to have only grown closer to Minho since Felix discovered their hookup. The relief that thought brought to him as he realized he wouldn't have to conceal the biggest secret he kept locked up for few to know, yet another dread surfacing inside his mind. The ataxia, agoraphobia, while Jisung sat on the counter of his bathroom and his knees knocked into Minho's ribs, Jisung told him he was afraid of being sick, afraid of getting sick, afraid of people who were sick. Afraid of Minho. He would be afraid of Minho, and yet, "You—"

Jisung interrupted him, hands squeezing together as he leaned forward a bit, "Minho, this has absolutely nothing to do with you having ataxia, why did you bring it up?"

The hacker quieted himself to take in those words. Looking back to Jisung's eyes and wanting nothing more than to tug him into a kiss. Pull him into the tighest hug he would ever experienced while he became strangled of any hints of air he saught for through the tight bundle, pull him into loving arms which adored every inch of him as the precious metals which were smelted down and made into the divine being, pull him into Minho's chest so he could feel the thundering of the delicate heart against his and hope it's rhythm would gradually calm him. Languidly convince him of every drop of love which Minho felt for him, which Minho could give him unreserved, to come pouring out to their laps, to the hands which bundled on his, fuck, was it even possible to love someone as much as Minho was in love with Jisung?

But instead, he just clutched tighter down to the younger's hands. Grasping at the fingers which tangled with his designs so assuredly, tracing the delicate lines which spanned his palms with their tingling burned brands imprinted on his mind forever, wishing that his own touch could bring Jisung the same addiction it delivered to him on a silver platter. Hoping his words didn't come out as condescending as he looked back to the staining tears within his eyes, and realize,  "You're fine with it?"

"I... I— Yes, Bunny, I do not care if people have diseases or are sick."

"But you said...?"

"I said my anxiety and agoraphobia cares, not me. There is a difference. I want to go outside. My anxiety does not. I want to be a human being. My anxiety does not. I understand diseases, conditions, illnesses, sicknesses, my anxiety does not," Jisung kept fiddling their hands together, bringing the clutch of their wound fists farther into the safety of his lap. The landing it provided for their soaring hearts searching for repose in the night. Searching for their homes once again, while Jisung's gentle voice and patient lips could become a beacon to their loss in his finalizing words. In the reassurances they could provide to the upset strapped to Minho's heart, "I have a backseat driver in my head, that's all it is. Occasionally, the backseat driver gets control in certain situations, like, leaving my house. But I'm the one driving."

"S-so...?"

"It does not matter to me."

Minho deflated down, humming to him gently, "Oh."

Oh.

He sunk back to sit down on the carpet floor below him. The threads catching him in his own befuddlement to the other's nonchalant behavior, while the hacker felt as if his entire world was being crumpled up before the confession.

Huh. I'm not used to someone being okay with it.

Only being able to hook their fingers together a little tigher to decide with a triumph flushing through him.

Cool!

"Why did you bring it up?" Jisung furrowed his eyebrows together, his own puzzlement becoming painfully apparent.