Back to the start line - Minsung

1.3 Each other's first

I have no one.

I have Minho, but I have no one.

Minho is my best friend and I am his. Or, I hope so. He says I'm likable and cute, a little dumb but cute nonetheless. Minho himself? He's a fucking gorgeous man; attentive and frank, although a little weird. It's a good kind of weird though!

I like Minho and hopefully he likes me too. Not in a strange or suspicious way!

I wish I was as brave and confident as Minho is. Minho is openly gay, not afraid to talk back to teachers and he knows his rights.

And what am I? A fearful, sensitive and shy little boy. An introvert, lacking social skills. That's how I feel.

I feel like a horrible, horrible person.

I wish to die.

I'm drained, exhausted.

I wish to be dead.

I have no reason to be here but the reasons for giving up are piling up everyday.

Everytime I'm with Minho, it feels like I have a new reason to live. And that reason feels natural, I feel it deep inside me. Minho's smile makes me want to see hin smile forever. His laughter makes me wants to keep joking and fooling around with him, forever.

When Minho's stressed, upset, angry or just quieter than usual, my heart cracks a little. When Minho's like that, he isn't in the mood to chat and wishes to be left alone. Dealing with my clingy, loud and chatty ass can be hard. Therefore, there has been more than one time when Minho has lost it, just snapped.

I hate it when he yells at me, scolds me or shoves me away. The insecurities and fears get the best of me; Minho hates me. Minho doesn't want me, doesn't need me. Minho hates me. He hates me. He doesn't want to be my friend.

It brings tears to my eyes just imagining the possibilities.

Minho's quietness lasts usually for a few hours, for a shorter time than my mom's bad moods.

It's usually Minho coming to me first. Then we're both apologizing messes, stumbling over words. I like the hugging and the cuddling part though.

Minho's a master of comforting and encouraging. He has his own, weird way of doing it but it suits me well. He suits me well.

I don't wish to die everyday. More like most days. There are times when Minho isn't able to cheer me up or help me enough. I try and fake a smile, so Minho would be reassured but he doesn't buy my lies. He doesn't mention them either, just let them be, so I guess it's fine.

~~~

He's waking up, slowly but surely, his eyes are fluttering open. The reality opens before him and he catches himself melting into someone's chest.

Jisung knows it's Minho, without needing to look to make sure of it. Minho has this certain scent that Jisung loves and wants to be showered with. He's sure he'd be able to recognize that scent anywhere, anytime.

They cuddle often, this is nothing new. Still, he gets embarrassingly excited everytime.

The older's chest is warm and firm, a nice substitute for a pillow to lie one's head on. With his ear pressed against the older's chest, the fabric of his shirt, Jisung hears his heart pounding steadily.

It spikes something in him, the warm feeling spreading, reaching his cheeks and tips of his ears. He hates blushing because of Minho, but that's one of the effects the brunette has on him.

Jisung likes it though and finds himself often craving more.

They have been friends forever. Despite some dumb arguments caused by even dumber misunderstandings, wearing uphills and occasional rocky rides in their way, they are always okay in the end.