nly_ho0
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Two clammy hands cradle an empty bottle of heat suppressants like a corpse.
He gives the bottle a meager little shake. Nothing rattles within.
Panic settles in and Jisung jerks to life. He fights with the childproof cap—resorting to using the cuff of his sweater to help since his hands are useless—and stares, in disbelieving agony, into a barren bottle.
The tears come on so quickly that he doesn’t even register a way to stop them before they’re rolling down his cheeks and landing on the label that he’s considered his religion for over 365 days.
Take 2 pills 1x a day. Failure to do so will have immediate effects and could lead to flash heat(s).
Or: Jisung’s suppressants run out on a bus. He starts panicking, until a quiet alpha switches seats and whispers, “Breathe. I’ve got you.”
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Bookmarked by nly_ho0
05 Jan 2026
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From closer, it’s clear that Minho is about his age. He’s handsome— very much so— in an untouchable sort of way. Straight nose, sharp eyes, a defined cupid’s bow. He looks sculpted rather than born. Jisung might shrink under the weight of his presence if the situation were different.
Knowing that Minho is dying ruins the illusion of perfection.
Jisung answers an ad online reading: "I'm going to die, but there's a lot of things I haven't done yet that I don't want to do alone."