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He loves his mornings early and crisp, when it's still dark outside and the orange glow right above the horizon introduces dawn – a new day that allows him to do what he loves. 

Minho ducks his head and tightens his jacket around him when a chilly breeze grazes his cheeks and he feels a few droplets hit his light brown hair. He should've brought an umbrella.

The nights are getting colder and the weather is getting more unpredictable each day, the month of October being just around the corner. 

But Minho doesn't mind at all. He loves autumn, loves all these seasonal baked goods that make a comeback when the colder seasons begin to unfold.

Accompanied by the happy song of some early birds above his head, he arrives at his destination, very ready to try out a new recipe that he was keeping inside his personal recipe book for a little while already.

Stepping into his little bakery never loses its charm. 

Feelings of pride and of comfort fill Minho to the brim whenever he opens its door and gets enveloped by the remaining warmth of the huge ovens, by the sweet smell of chocolate ganache and marzipan and ready-made cookie dough. 

After Minho's turned on the lights and hung his jacket on the nearby clothing rack, he already rolls up the sleeves of his sweater and gets to thoroughly washing his hands in the sink behind the display.

When his fingers are squeaky clean, Minho makes his way towards the back door where he enters the baking room and gets to work.

Turning on the radio with his elbow, he starts humming along to the songs or quietly commenting on the events around the world, all while making his first batch of the day – croissants. His favorites actually.

He loves how simple they are (as long as you disregard the making of puff pastry which will always be a pain in the ass). And yet, there's so many variations to them – plain, chocolate, the cheese and bacon ones. 

It always smells like heaven, too – so buttery and warm. It makes him feel so warm himself, a scent capable of getting him out of bed at the prospect of being surrounded by it, even when it's cold and stormy outside. 

The potential of variations has turned him more creative with other pastries, inspiring him to switch up some ingredients or fillings, to add red fruit, to make them less sweet, or even sweeter .

That's why he wants to try this special recipe and switch things up. Today he's making a matcha version of his famous, most loved cheesecake. 

The croissants are already inside one of his big industrial ovens when Minho begins mixing up all the ingredients needed. 

And at one point he spaces out, running on autopilot because baking turned into something he could do in his sleep, already having lots and lots of years of experience on his back.

He knows how long to whisk, how to make his macadamia cookies perfectly round, how much yeast is needed to make his bread dough rise properly.

At the very young age of eighteen that's all Minho has studied during his apprenticeship and now manifests in every of his work steps, even mastering them with time.

Lost in greasing the springform pan for the cheesecake batter and in the thoughts of his apprentice days, he can't help but let a blissful smile form on his face – all rosy-cheeked from labor. 

The day he was able to call this little bakery, this cozy café, his own had to be the happiest day in his life, to this date.

Of course, it's been an enormous amount of work, to turn these four walls into an inviting and comfortable space, so straining on his wallet and his nerves when he had to take on a loan and try to get his small business running, all alone, rarely with any support from his family since they didn't approve of his dreams, told him that he should do something tangible, secure – they wanted him to follow in his father's footsteps and study to work in a bank.

Minho had always wanted to make his parents proud and yet he couldn't help but cringe at the thought of a 9 to 5 job, in an uncomfy suit, with customers stuck up and annoying, with work that couldn't possibly quench his thirst for physical exercise, the restlessness he feels inside more often than not. 

In the end, he made it. All by himself.

And it's been a success right from the start – Minho's baked goods were getting popular so quickly and word-to-mouth recommendations made his bakery known first in the neighborhood, then in the whole city.

When his barista friend Changbin joined his one-man-team after having persuaded Minho for months and reassured him that it's okay to accept support, his little bakery turned into a café – into a dreamy place with calm music, warm coffee and the yummiest cakes in town. 

Minho sighs as he slides the cheesecake baking tin into the second oven next to the croissants and wipes his flour coated hands on the apron he put on earlier.

Oh, how he wishes back the old times. 

It's not that his job gets boring with time, if anything his love for baking only deepens, infinitely, with no end in sight. It's just that lately rarely anyone comes in and sits down for a while to enjoy a slice of his cakes or a warm croissant. 

Nowadays everyone seems so rushed, preferring to visit one of the thousand fast-paced chains in town to quickly order a seemingly fancy iced Frappuccino, drinking out of a plastic cup with their name written down wrong every time.

A familiar feeling of anxiety courses through Minho at these troubling thoughts and his fear that maybe one day he has to give up on his dream.

So he tries to stay occupied, exits the baking room and skips through all the seating places, wiping down the tables and adjusting the floral printed tea clothes, taking a mental note to get fresh flowers from the local florist to freshen up his decorations.

It's when he realizes how badly it's started to rain, notices someone standing outside right in front of his door with his shoulders pulled up, desperately looking up into the gray sky and trying to stay at least a little bit dry underneath the small sun blind of the café.

Minho immediately takes pity on him, figures that it wouldn't be that bad to have a bit of company, a little bit of distraction.

So he approaches the door with a smile and carefully opens it, trying to not accidentally scare the stranger and make him jump. 

Which he does nonetheless.

"Woah–"

The stranger violently flinches and spins around to detect the source that's so suddenly dug into his back, only for his eyes to grow wide like saucers when he sees Minho's face peeking out from behind the door, a little, apologetic smile playing over his features. 

"Sorry, I didn't want to scare you," Minho tells him, finding it very amusing how expressive the man's face grows as he takes in Minho's words. "I was going to ask if you'd like to come in? To not get completely wet?"

"Oh!" he lets out, hurries to nod. 

And Minho can't help but think how cute he looks, with his big eyes and his full cheeks that push his lips into a natural pout. 

"That would save my day," he adds, shyly grinning when Minho opens the door further to let him inside. "Thank you so much."

"No worries," Minho tells him, light and kind, gesturing to a chair closest to his working space. "You can take a seat, I'll just have to get the croissants out of the oven."

"Oh, and my name's Minho by the way," he adds over his shoulder while hurrying into the baking room to retrieve the first batch of baked goods. 

When he comes back, there's a bright smile directed towards him. "I'm Jisung."

"Nice to meet you, Jisung," he smiles as he puts the croissants behind the display. "Why are you up so early?"

"Those smell like heaven," Jisung groans, curiously eyeing the warm pastries from where he sits, torso excitedly bent forwards before continuing. "Oh, I couldn't really sleep, so I went out for a walk– And I must admit, forgetting to look at the weather forecast and walking through the pouring rain really paid off."

Jisung peels his eyes off the display and smiles even wider when he hears Minho giggling. "Really, thank you so much for letting me in."

"Oh, don't mention it," Minho says with a wave of his hand. "It's nice having some company."

With one finger put up, he gestures to Jisung that he'll be right back, now taking the baking tray full of little wheat buns that he prepared earlier and putting it into the empty oven. 

And right after, he's able to take out his matcha cheesecake with his green and purple checkered baking gloves, carefully stepping through the swing door to put the cake onto the countertop and let it cool down. 

Minho blows a small hair strand out of his eyes and smiles at his little masterpiece – the cake turned out so well.

And Jisung seems to agree.

Minho swears when he looks up to bring his attention back to Jisung that he sees sparkles flaring up inside his big eyes. 

Minho feels himself giggling again, weirdly fond of this cute stranger.

"Can I offer you a piece?" he asks him, biting back another giggle when Jisung's gaze jumps up to Minho as if he's been caught ogling at his crush. "It's my first time trying out a matcha version of my cheesecake."

"Oh! No, no it's alright, I'm sure you have to.. uh, bake lots of stuff," he scrambles for words, awkwardly scratching at his neck. "I don't want to occupy any of your tight time…"

It makes Minho gently shake his head as he's getting rid of the springform tin.

"Don't you worry," he reassures Jisung, "I'm one of those scary humans that love to work actually. And I'd be really happy about an unbiased opinion."

That seems to pacify Jisung for now and he stops mauling his neck, just to start fiddling with his fingers. He seems so restless, Minho realizes with a slight furrow to his brows.

"Thank you, Minho," he says earnestly, smiles up at him when Minho comes up to his table and places a perfectly cut piece of cake in front of him. "I could bathe myself in cheesecake."

"I figured," Minho replies teasingly, "But you'll have to wait for the slice to cool down, I'm afraid. At least a bit. You'll hurt your tummy otherwise."

Jisung's body quivers with amusement and it's the first time Minho stops to take in not only his pretty face but his body, too. Which gets swallowed by his oversized sweater and yet hugs his chest in a very alluring way, and his fingers twitch, eager to have a feel. 

"Thank you for the reminder. Happened way too often in the past."

Following Minho's advice, he patiently waits, his fingers mindlessly playing with the small cake fork lying next to his plate. It seems as if he has something troublesome on his mind that he can't quite shake off and Minho eyes him worryingly, watches how Jisung zones out and starts biting at his bottom lip.

"Jisung?" Minho can't help but ask, heading towards the chair across from him to sit down. Even his gentle voice makes Jisung jump again and he blushes when he feels Minho's worried gaze on him. "Are you alright?"

He looks lovely, Minho immediately thinks, with his cheeks painted pink.

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright, it's just–" he takes a deep breath. "It's my first week at uni and it's making me really anxious. I just wanna do well."

Minho gifts him an empathetic smile. "I'm sure you'll do great. What are you studying?"

His gentle attention helps a little. 

"Media design," he tells him, face squished between his sweater paws, eyes wide and glazed over as he thinks about all these new responsibilities he has to face. "I mean, I'm confident in my abilities, it's just the uncertainty that freaks me out, not knowing anyone, not knowing anything about the workload and requirements."

Minho hums understandingly, his chin propped up on his palm. "Yeah, new beginnings are always scary," he begins, pushing the plate further towards Jisung with a little smile. "But I'm sure it'll all work out for you, Jisung. Just take step by step and day by day, and before you know it, you're rocking this. You just need a little bit more faith in yourself... And some cheesecake."

He feels himself preen when his little joke punches a laugh out of Jisung – such an adorable, unapologetic sound.

"You're right."

"I always am," he jokes again, then gets up from the table and adds a little more seriously:

"If you need anything, I'll be in the baking room for a little while, yeah?"

Minho feels better getting back to work now that Jisung seems a little less anxious – though when he ogles at his cheesecake, then looks up at Minho with a smile that makes his cheeks puff up, he feels himself not really wanting to leave.

"And I'll be here enjoying my cheesecake," Jisung answers and grabs his fork, carefully piercing through the first bit, as if it was something fragile, something worth celebrating. 

Minho shouldn't have looked back when another Oh cuts through the quiet café. But when he does turn around, he gets greeted by Jisung with his cheeks full, one small hand covering his mouth, the other pointing towards the cake. "How much is it?"

He looks adorable like that, irresistible even, and Minho finds himself staring, his answer coming a tad bit delayed. "Ah, uh, don't worry about it, it's on the house," he says when his words return to him, "But I'd be happy about some constructive criticism."

Jisung nods enthusiastically, moves his little fists as he takes his first bite all in. He seems to enjoy it a lot.

And Minho finds himself enjoying the view. A lot.  

Almost naturally, he feels himself sporting a fond smile and he gets attached to the way it makes him feel. 

Warm, comforting, carefree.

It's been so long since he didn't worry at all, his brain constantly reminding him of the precarious situation he's living in.

But right now, all he can think about is Jisung's enthusiasm, his smile, the adorable way he eats his cake.

"I'm afraid there's nothing that I can constructively criticize," Jisung says then, pulling Minho out of his thoughts with a quiet snicker.

Their gazes meet and Minho swears that he feels his heart skipping a beat, his ears growing scorching hot when he looks into Jisung's warm, brown eyes and thinks that he's never seen anything so gentle, so honest.

What a magical morning.

"This has to be the best cheesecake that I've ever got to taste."

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

The magic doesn't stop there – Minho is wearing the smile Jisung gave him all morning.

He loves his job and is always happy to get to work but Minho has to admit that it's a nice little addition to have someone praising your baked goods all enthusiastically, to peek through the swing door window while kneading bread dough and having a very pretty boy sitting there who's enjoying his second slice of cheesecake and a croissant, all absorbed in a video that's playing on his phone and slightly swaying to the playlist Minho put on, with songs that always help himself to calm down. 

It seems to work for Jisung, too.

Time passes quickly like that, and a dreaded look at the clock on the wall tells Minho that it's about time to open up his bakery.

His stomach already cramps all painfully as he imagines how empty the café will be, like it always is lately.

But there's no running away, a few customers are still better than none. 

So Minho finishes up an apple cake with powdered sugar and makes his way to the swing door, pushing it open with his elbow. 

It's the last one for today and joins the others behind the display. 

Dreading that he won't sell a lot today, he only made three cakes this morning, and now he's staring at them with glazed over eyes, his cheek resting on top of his shoulder, fingers gripping the edge of the countertop. He feels like perishing from all the catastrophizing he's doing lately, from his brain that doesn't want to shut up.

With a quiet sigh he looks up, desperate for any kind of distraction – so he lets his gaze wander towards Jisung.

He seems to be in his own world, body perched over the table, his face soft and relaxed as he's drawing away on his tablet, nibbling on his pencil every now and then.

Minho loses himself again in this lovely sight, in the movement of his soft pink, parted lips as he's mouthing the lyrics of the song that is playing in Minho's little bakery. Minho loves that song, loves that Jisung knows it.

After a while, he approaches Jisung with quiet steps and a small smile to see what he's been up to. 

"Feeling a bit better?" Minho asks him, stepping to his side and tilting his head to have a good view on the screen. 

And he can definitely see Jisung in it. It's nothing sharp and distinct, it doesn't follow a specific goal nor is it loud, expressively bold. 

It's dreamy with colors that look like they're flowing, gently, calmy. It's the drawing of a sunset sky, with all sorts of warm colors, with pink and orange and purple and yellow, with bright dots that resemble stars, visible where vivid colors bleed into the darkening sky. 

"That's gorgeous, Jisung," Minho says genuinely, picking out a sentiment akin to awe inside his own voice. 

Only then Jisung seems to notice him and his head immediately snaps up while his small hands are desperately trying to cover the screen, his eyes huge and full of horror.

And then he outright whines.

"Noooo, Minho, you can't just creep up on me like that!!" His motor abilities seem to have returned to him and he scrambles to lock his tablet, the screen turning black. "Those are just silly doodles, very, very silly!!"

A way too loud giggle rips through Minho's throat and he hides his face behind his sweater paw because the grimace he's making right now from laughing so bad surely fits to the horror in Jisung's eyes.

"Minhoooo," he whines again but then stutters and falls into breathless giggles himself. "You're mean."

Minho tries to calm down again, his finger brushing away an escaping tear from his eyes. He's certainly a laugh-cryer. 

"And you're cute," he answers him, still amused, still chuckling. "You're daydreaming a lot."

Minho's choice of words paint Jisung's cheeks rosy and he ducks a little under his gaze. "Not sure if being oblivious to your surroundings is a cute thing. It– It's annoying to most people." 

His last words are accompanied by a small, sad laugh and he twists his mouth, averting his gaze.

Minho only shakes his head, his smile never-faltering – he has the strange urge to make this boy feel nothing but comfortable. "I think it's something admirable," he begins, plopping down on his chair again. "There is so much to worry about in this world, it's nice to be able to escape all that for a while, don't you think?"

Jisung's little smile turns genuine as he's taking in Minho's words, slightly nodding his head. 

And when he looks back up, looks into Minho's eyes with new found confidence, even if it's still as delicate as a butterfly's wing, Minho feels his heart growing all warm and fuzzy, relieved. "You've got a point."

Minho returns his smile, the logical part of his brain frowning, shaking his head at him and giving him a lecture about the illogicality of a first encounter being this intense. He must be sick.

But the other part is louder – the part that is yearning for something warm, for someone Minho can call his home and whose safe arms he can fall into after a long, demotivating day at the bakery, having all his worries kissed away.

It's been so long that he's loved, that he's been loved. 

And though he's a hard nut to crack and is the worst at talking about his feelings and fears, at letting people in, he lets himself have some hope – maybe he'll finally get over this.

Minho allows his smile to deepen, to see something similar in Jisung's eyes to what he's feeling inside, allows himself to feel deeply when he notices the little mole decorating Jisung's left cheek as he looks to the side, seemingly in search of something.

Distracting himself from the urge to brush over it with his thumb, to feel for himself how soft Jisung's cheek must be, he tries to think of another dumb joke about himself being a know-it-all. But then he gets pulled out his thoughts, startles even at Jisung's sudden outburst.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, I just looked at the clock!!" he yelps as he springs up to his feet and tries to throw all his stuff into his purple backpack as quickly as possible. "Speaking of daydreaming, my first fucking class starts in 15 minutes!!"

"Oh!" 

Minho rushes to his side, mind still a little hazy, growing even hazier when he notices how good Jisung smells. He helps him with packing, then quickly waddles to his baked goods where he fetches a chocolate croissant that Jisung can take with him. 

"Thank you so much for this nice morning, for everything," Jisung says while flinging his backpack over his shoulder, looking like a kid on Christmas Day when he sees the croissant inside his hand.

"A provision for your journey," he says a little out of breath, blithely giggling when Jisung opens up his lips all wide, an invitation for Minho to put the pastry into his mouth. "And you're very welcome, Jisung."

Being in a hurry, Jisung waves him goodbye before storming out and nearly crashing into Changbin whose shift just started.

"Woah– easy there," Minho hears him say, hands springing up to Jisung's shoulders to prevent the worst.

A muffled Sorry!! makes Minho giggle again and he immediately has Changbin's undivided attention on himself after Jisung has made it out alive.

"Why was this little man in your bakery before opening hours?" he asks him while entering the room, an eyebrow shooting up as a shit eating grin makes it across his face.

Minho presses his lips together to suppress his smile, trying to appear calm and collected as he explains, "The rain this morning was horrible, so– I was being a good citizen and offered him refuge."

"Ah," Changbin makes, still smirking, still not buying it. "The rain stopped two hours ago."

"Uh," Minho tries, sighing and ultimately sticking to the truth. "Well, Jisung wasn't feeling well so I let him stay for a while, you know, with my playlist and some pastries."

Changbin's knowing smile makes his ears redden again and he curses himself for always being so obvious, curses Changbin for being in such an annoyingly teasing mood this morning. 

So he adds another explanation for Changbin, and for himself too, a plan to not get his hopes up. "It wasn't like that, Binnie, that was a one time thing, I was just being nice. And he was just glad to be somewhere warm."

Changbin puts on his apron while listening to his ramblings, his smile turning softer, kind. "I bet a day off that he comes back tomorrow."

He grabs a tea cloth that he throws over his shoulder, propping up his hands on the countertop, gentle eyes watching a defeated Minho.

Minho knows why he reacts that way, why he's immediately keen-eared when Minho seems to like someone. Too often was Changbin the witness of his relationships going south, of meeting a shattered Minho with red, puffy eyes in the mornings at the bakery, already busying himself with work. He knows how sensitive Minho is, how much it hurt him when past partners complained about his eager work ethics, unwilling to compromise at all. 

Minho knows that Changbin is tired of him getting hurt, that it hurts him just as bad to hold his trembling best friend inside his arms and be told that another prick of a boyfriend couldn't handle Minho's enthusiasm for his craft, his ambition.

Changbin must've seen something in Jisung's eyes when he bumped into him, mouth full of croissant, cheeks all cutely puffed-up. He must've seen kindness and something that would treat Minho just right.

That's why he's not quite letting go of the topic, Minho notices, and maybe he lets this flicker of hope rub off on him, just a little bit.

The hope to have someone who loves Minho's everything.

One look into each other's eyes and they understand.

"You deserve someone kind in your life, Min."

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

Tuesdays are the worst somehow.

The door to his bakery rarely opens the next day and his mood just progressively gets worse.

Every time a new customer comes in, especially near closing time, Minho feels a pang of disappointment in his chest and he realizes that he's fooled himself, that he doesn't want their encounter to be a one time thing. 

Minho wants to look into Jisung's bright face again, wants to have his smile take away his worries, even if it's only for a short while.

Yearning, he looks at the clock on the wall from behind the counter he's already cleaning up, wishes so badly for his enthusiastic hello to clear up the thunderstorm sky above his head. 

And he's already lost all hope after Changbin clocked out with a playful head ruffle and some encouraging words, leaving him alone with his gloomy thoughts – when after a couple of minutes the little bell above the entrance starts jingling.

Minho stopped bothering to look up a few jingles ago but snaps his head back up when he hears a new yet very familiar voice. And it's warm and giddy and turns the clouds above his head from grey to pearly white.

"Hi!! I'm back!"

It's Jisung in all his bright glory, standing in front of him and smiling so widely that Minho can see all his perfect teeth, his upper lip forming itself into the arches of a heart.

It makes Minho smile back so naturally. "Hi."

"I'm sorry to come in so late but– I really enjoyed our morning yesterday," he begins, a little shy but bravely honest. "So I was going to ask if you'd like to go for a little walk? The park near my uni is really pretty."

As much as this request is everything Minho could want, it also surprises him and he feels himself blinking several times, buying himself time to answer.

It seems to make Jisung backtrack immediately.

"I mean– in case you don't have anybody waiting for you back home–" he adds, seemingly embarrassed that he may have misinterpreted their entire encounter, his hand springing up to scratch at his arm, eyes jumping down to his feet.

Minho laughs a little laugh to ease the mood and hurries to answer. "There are only three cats waiting for me at home, and they'll survive being alone for a couple more hours."

He unties his apron and hangs it on the coat hook behind him, then turns back to Jisung and feels bright sunshine shining down on his head when he sees Jisung's eyes light up. 

"Then let's go."

It's a lovely afternoon – golden and warm from the setting sun that makes up for the cold trying to creep into their jackets.

They're strolling through a quiet neighborhood that leads to the park and Minho remembers how nice it is to simply stretch his legs and get some fresh air – it's been a while for him, unable to motivate himself after a fruitless day at the bakery. 

All the more he's enjoying this walk with Jisung now and turns his face towards the sun, sighing when he feels warmth seeping into his pores. 

"This is nice," he says, looking to the side to gift Jisung a snug smile who's dressed all warmly in a big hoodie and a teddy jacket, his thick, unruly hair falling into his forehead. 

Jisung is grinning back at him, his full cheeks rosy from the cold, his brown eyes looking even warmer than yesterday. "It's nice spending time with you."

Then he bumps Minho with his shoulder, his voice suddenly low and playful, and he's leaning in as if to share a secret that's only for them to know. "Maybe we could do this more often, Minho."

There's a whiff of his cologne tickling Minho's nose and he has to refrain from leaning in, too. "I'd love that."

It's easy and light, talking to Jisung.

Their conversations are flowing naturally – there's always something to talk about, to laugh about.

And there's something they can dream about, too, when they reach the entrance of the park and both react in union, both in awe when Jisung sighs and Minho admires as they step inside.

Jisung is proven right. The park truly is a lovely spectacle, with autumn flowers showing their brightest colors, with a small pond accommodating shimmering dragonflies and orange glowing fish, with colorful trees and their falling leaves that coat the stone paths so beautifully.

It all looks so dreamy and comforting, the colors, the mood of this sun soaked autumn afternoon reminding Minho of a cozy evening at home, wrapped up in a blanket and with a hot ginger tea warming up his fingers that always seem to be cold. 

Just like they are now.

He buries his freezing hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, rubs his fist against the inner fabric to create a little bit of warmth, a quiet sound of frustration leaving him. A tiny aaah that immediately gets Jisung's attention and draws a quizzical look out of him, his lips forming into a cute o-shape. "Everything alright?"

Minho has to laugh about his own awkwardness, nods his head an eager yes. 

"Yeah, I'm okay, my hands just won't warm up," he explains, still moving his fists back and forth inside his pockets. 

Only then he realizes that Jisung's hands are comfortably free-hanging, arms swinging back and forth alongside his easy steps. 

Minho lets out a gasp. 

"Aren't your hands freezing?

"Oh!" Jisung makes, genuinely surprised about Minho's concern, looking at his outstretched palms. "They're fine, really, my hands are just always warm."

"Can't relate," Minho answers him with a tired smile that turns into an amused yet very confused expression when Jisung looks at him with cocked eyebrows, his intentions unreadable to Minho.

"Well, we can do something about that," Jisung thinks out loud and shuffles even closer, their shoulders bumping against each other. 

And before Minho can even react, he feels a finger wiggle into his pocket, feels it grazing his wrist and it's so warm. 

"Can I..?" Jisung asks genuinely, looks up at him from where he focused on the finger in pocket action and Minho is already sold on it, his head doing the nodding before he even realizes. "Y-Yeah."

Minho has to refrain himself from sighing out loud when Jisung's hand pushes into the tight space of Minho's pocket and gently, carefully wraps his fingers around his cold digits. 

Warmth creeps into Minho's bones from this thoughtful action and he hopes that his face isn't too red when Jisung's thumb strokes over his knuckles, hopes that Jisung doesn't notice the slight sway to his walk from the sudden lightheadedness creeping into his head, making him feel dizzy and light.

But it's no use – the way Jisung is now looking at him, with a satisfied smile equally endearing as it is infuriating, makes him blush even more. 

At least he's not cold anymore. 

Their eyes meet again and Jisung tilts his head, curious.

"Better?"

"Better."

After a while, Minho relaxes into his touch and it starts to feel like the most natural thing in the world, to have his hand warmed by a man he met just yesterday.

But then the tiniest, little shock runs through his body when Jisung moves his hand to carefully interlace their fingers together, a little smile flashing over his features as he continues looking straight forward. Inconspicuously, he tries to act like he didn't just get caught in the act by Minho whose head snapped to the side to watch him with big eyes.

"Need to reach every corner," he explains himself then, and his façade crumbles, not able to hold in his quiet, breathless laugh, his shoulders quivering.

Minho is smiling like an idiot when he looks down at his moving feet dashing through the sea of colorful leaves. "Oh, what would I do without you?" 

He does a tiny kick into a bigger pile of leaves because suddenly there's energy inside him he didn't know he could have – not after such a crushing day like this. 

"Then you'd be in severe danger of your limbs freezing off, so I better stay by your side," Jisung jokingly says, squeezing his hand, safe inside his grip.

Minho hopes that it isn't a joke.

Because the day just keeps on getting better and better and has the potential to become one of his most favorite days in a very long time.

Minho learns that they can walk in comfortable silence, too, simply enjoying their walk through nature with their fingers intertwined. And even when his hand is warm enough, a little sweaty even, Jisung doesn't let go. 

He learns that they share a love for the slower things in life, like sitting down on a wooden bench overseeing the well kept flower beds and the little creek Minho admired earlier. 

Too many people would think it too less of stimulation, would propose something more "exciting", but Minho thinks it just perfect when Jisung leads him to this pretty spot.

And though Jisung gives him the advantage to sit first so they have to unclasp their hands, he can't complain – because as soon as they're sitting Jisung holds out his palm. "Wanna give me your other one?"

"Oh!" Minho is taken aback by Jisung's offer but scrambles to get his other cold hand out of his pocket, heart fluttering when their palms meet and the touch of Jisung's warm skin against his feels so soft, so silky and comforting, and he remembers how much he loves this little endearment, so overlooked by many and yet so huge for him. 

It doesn't help his poor heart to calm down. 

"Thank you," he says quietly after taking a deep breath to fill his lungs and fight this giddiness taking him over – though he's failing when Jisung puts his other hand on top and warmth envelopes him completely. 

A welcomed distraction comes along his way, though, when Jisung rubs both of his palms over his hand and makes him giggle, makes him fondly watch Jisung's body eagerly perched over their connected hands. "No cold limbs allowed in my presence."

Minho shakes his head. "They're nice and warm now," he assures Jisung, half disappointed, half relieved when they part again to settle comfortably on the bench and let their gaze wander over the colorful trees and over the couples, friends, dog walkers enjoying this golden day just like them. 

He's glad that he's able to clear his mind a little, to recover from Jisung's gentle attacks with his hands now comfortably warm. It's what he needs to deal with the question Jisung asks him after a while, oblivious to the weight it puts on Minho's shoulders. 

"How was work today?"

He can't stop the disheartened laugh from leaving his mouth, can't prevent the corners of his mouth from being pulled downwards. "It– well, it was a little quiet today."

Jisung seems to catch the slight change in mood, Minho notices, especially since he tries to sound enthusiastic, tries to pick Minho up. "Oh, I'm sure that's a good thing every now and then, right? I bet it's nice to have a break from all the busy days."

Minho knows that Jisung means well, and he yearns to be able to just go along with it but right now, his fears are far more insistent than his need to keep up his façade, so he can't even do what he always does – push this topic far, far away from himself. 

It's not possible before Jisung's adamant gaze that turns into a frown and worried eyes when Minho dares a glance and he feels himself oozing unease. 

"Well," he begins again, quiet and small, his gaze lowered. "It's been really quiet for a while now."

"Oh," Jisung says, and it sounds affected. "I'm sorry to hear that, Minho."

His natural reaction is to smile and shake his head, his toes tapping against the grass beneath them. "It's okay," he says, then looks into Jisung's eyes. Into eyes that seem to care about him. "I should've known. It's an obvious thing to happen, with so many new cafés opening, especially all these hip coffee shops. I can't keep up with those. I'll have to accept that."

It's Jisung's turn to shake his head, repeatedly, with furrowed brows, turning his whole front towards Minho and drawing up one leg to let his chin rest on his knee. "You don't have to accept anything you're not okay with. Especially when it's about your dreams."

He gives him a little, encouraging smile. "And running a business like that with little to no employees tells me a lot about you. You don't give up that easily."

Minho is smiling to himself, eyes fixated on his restless feet. "Thank you for saying that. I just feel like running out of options.. not sure how I'd get my customers back."

"Oh, there's a lot of things you can do!" Jisung perches up, reaching out to touch his knee, gently. "Advertising is essential!! Maybe your parents, friends, literally everyone you know can help you get the word out."

Minho feels his face heat up, hot frustration he knows so well licking up his body. He hates that there's always the same answer to that proposal. 

He doesn't count in his friends – they were always ready to help and simply resigned after a while of relentless asking and offering because Minho just wouldn't budge. 

But his parents…

Minho sighs.

"Well, my parents didn't really support my wish to be a baker, so.." he shrugs his shoulders, not really knowing how to sugarcoat it, simply going with the truth, even when it makes him feel like crying. "They cut ties with me when I opened my bakery. It got better with time, but even now our relationship is… difficult." 

He hasn't even finished his last sentence before Jisung shuffles closer and latches onto his arm, his cheek squished against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Minho, that's fucking horrible," he mumbles, then lifts his head to look at him, his hair cutely disheveled, his eyes so close, so full of need to make him feel better. "How did this even happen?"

So Minho tells him, comforted by Jisung clinging to him like an adorable, human-sized squirrel and his strange interest in Minho's life.

It makes him realize how seldom he talks about his worries, makes him appreciate this quirky, little guy that stumbled into his life and now pulls him out of his cave of repressed emotions and unsaid thoughts that sometimes make it hard for him to have a good night's sleep.

He tells him about his parents and their strict way of thinking, that he was expected to work in the bank that his father owns. 

He tells him that he rebelled against their educational dictatorship and started an apprenticeship as a baker at eighteen, still so young, so terrified to end up alone, to be expelled from his family. 

But in no way was he able to do anything else, to make himself fit into that mold they chose for him.

With a slight tremble to his voice, Minho tells Jisung that he was asked to move out as soon as possible. It's when the struggle began, when he had to fight for himself and the bakery, for the right to exist. But he succeeded.

"…and now I'm here, worrying all over again," Minho sighs, gifting Jisung an apologetic smile. "Sorry for bothering you with my boring life story. There are people that have it worse. And I'll be alright somehow. I'll find a way."

Jisung's hung on Minho's every word, visibly reacting to his story with occasional pouts and hums, with frowns and little upset comments. 

Now he's hectically shaking his head, fingers still wrapped around his arm, still so close. "Please don't compare your situation to other people's struggles. It upsets you, so it's only valid to feel upset and to worry."

"Hmm, yeah. You're right," Minho answers him, but it's hard for him to agree, actually. Rather says it to let this topic die down as quickly as possible.

But Jisung stays adamant – maybe because he can see right through him.

"Please know that you can always ask for help, Minho. Even if it feels weird, you know, because you didn't get the help you needed in the past."

His words are gentle yet sting so very deeply because they hold so much truth inside, because that's exactly what Minho can't overcome.

"And Minho?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd love to help you. I know it's a little strange coming from me, when I've only known you since, literally yesterday." A little giggle escapes Jisung and Minho feels his soft cheeks puffing up against his shoulder. 

It's all Minho needs to smile, too, even when Jisung's offer takes him aback and he's already thinking of ways to politely decline his help.

"But– I know of some ways to make people aware of your wonderful bakery. It'd actually be a lot of fun!"

With those sudden energy bursts Jisung is gifted with when he's not daydreaming, he lets his hands slide down Minho's arm to tug his hand out of his pocket, to hold it in both of his palms, his eyes wide and expectant.

Now Jisung really wants to see the world burn. 

With a touch that's scorching, that would burn right through his clothes if Jisung put his palm on top of Minho's chest and feel the excited flutter that awakened yesterday.

"At least think about it, yeah?"

And Minho wants to think about it, he wants to tell him yes, but he doesn't let himself. 

It feels weird to have someone be so interested in his work, to actively offer their help. And it scares Minho, too, because all he knows is rejection anytime he's felt safe enough to ask for help, support, understanding.

So he only squeezes his fingers, giving Jisung a tight lipped smile. "Really, it's okay, Jisung. You don't have to worry about my problems, too, you have enough of your own. Everybody does."

The little spark of hope inside Jisung's eyes immediately dulls down, but he doesn't probe, leaves it at that. 

Minho tries to ignore the little slump in his shoulders, the way his own heart hurts at the sight. But unusually for him, he can't – not with Jisung's fingers slowly retreating and carefully folding over his knee.

Though he's scared, he gives in, just a little. The last thing Minho wants is to scare Jisung away with his inability to let people in. 

He sighs again.

"I'm sorry, Jisung. I'll try and think about it, yeah?"

The smile that literally brightens up Jisung's features is rewarding to say the least – and Minho feels himself growing addicted, smiling just as much when he turns to the side and puts his finally warm enough hand on top of his folded fingers. 

When Minho speaks again it's soft and kind and genuine – he's glad that he can divert the attention from him, genuinely wants to know about Jisung and how he's been – because he truly cares and because it's just so much easier caring for others than for himself. "But enough from me, how were your first days at uni?"

Pacified for now, Jisung begins in high-spirits, uses his hands to explain and underline his chattering but always finds his way back to Minho's hand still on top of his knee. 

He talks about his timetable and classes, about the horrible introduction rounds he has to go through in every single one of his courses, about his favorite class, website coding, and the little, fluffy dog that always accompanies a classmate and sleeps in his even fluffier dog bed close to Jisung's seat.

Minho is glad that things are going well for him overall, hopes that they're getting even better.

"Doesn't sound too bad, huh?" Minho says cheerily when Jisung's finished, patting his knee before burying his hands into his pockets again – the sun is slowly setting already, taking all the warmth with it.

Jisung's eyes follow the movement of his hand, his smile turning flustered when he feels Minho's palm stroking over his knee, then a little bit distant, like he's lost in thought when Minho's hands disappear inside his jacket. "Yeah, I'm just so relieved about everyone being so chill. Makes uni much more bearable," Jisung answers him and peels his gaze off Minho's pockets, leaning down and propping up his chin on his knee.

Deciding that Minho's affected heart hasn't had enough for the day, Jisung looks up at him then – through his dark eyelashes and with his bottom lip all pouty, and Minho desperately hopes that Jisung didn't catch this one second where his eyes got stuck on his lips, so pink and glossy and surely tasting awfully sweet of the fruity chapstick that he put on earlier and protects his lips from the cold.

Minho wonders if his lips are always warm, too.

If he'd love giving nose kisses as much as Minho loves receiving them, because the tip of his nose, especially in the winter months, is always ice cold and a flushed red. 

Snapping out of his way too vivid imaginary, Minho notices with an inner sigh of relief that Jisung's turned his head in the meantime of Minho's pining, to look into the sky that's turning more brilliantly orange by the second, thankfully oblivious to Minho's wish for a warm nose.

"It's crazy how cold it gets in autumn once the sun is setting," he muses, completely lost in the play of the warmest colors lighting up the horizon, making him glow as well. "It's like the sun uses up all its energy to make our sky really pretty one last time."

Minho can't bite back his fond expression while watching Jisung being so in awe with something so mundane.

Especially because his enthusiasm looks so pretty on him, because Minho understands. 

"That's a nice way to look at it," he begins, turns his head as well to take in the spectacle that's peeking over the dark green treetops. "Makes the cold way more bearable."

Jisung begins nodding his head in eager approval, then falls into laughter that turns his cheeks all lovely and rosy. "I once bursted into tears because of a sunset that looked out of this world," he confesses, puts a hand over his eyes in feigned shame, as if hiding. "I really freaking love sunsets, Minho."

"I also really freaking love sunsets, Jisung," he giggles, feels too enamored by Jisung's little fingers to not touch them and gently bare his face again, exposing big eyes looking back at him, his mouth so adorably round from surprise. "No need to hide."

It makes Jisung's whole face turn one shade pinker and he's averting his gaze to look at their fingers still clasped together, resting on the bench between them. "I'm glad I'm not the only one that likes basic things."

Minho can't bite back a put on gasp, relishing Jisung's flustered state a tiny bit too much, figuring that a little bit of teasing wouldn't hurt. 

"Did you just call me basic?" he deadpans, slowly blinking at a startled Jisung who's immediately scrambling for words and grabbing at his hand as if he's scared of Minho pulling it back.

"N-No! I–" 

Minho's never ending giggles cut through his stammering and he puts his other hand on top of Jisung's to tell him that it's alright. "It's okay, that was a little mean of me, joking like that."

He does feel a little bit bad but Jisung's pout that re-emerges makes it hard to not do it again. He decides to postpone it, though, to a later date, full of hope that they'll see each other more often in the future.

"Besides, I don't think it's that basic if you think about it," Minho soothes him, closely watching Jisung with a smile when he pricks up his ears at this new thought. "Feeling something very deeply that is mostly overlooked because it happens nearly everyday is a very special trait if you ask me."

"Even if it makes me ugly cry?" Jisung barges in with a small smile, recovered from Minho's light attack. 

"Even then," Minho says with kind eyes and a slight nod, rudely disturbed by a cold breeze hitting him in the face and making him shiver.

Jisung gives a little laugh at Minho's pained grimace and shifts their tangled fingers to hold Minho's hands in his warm palms for a while, a content, relaxed expression on his face as he's watching the sky gradually turning darker.

Slowly, maybe a tad unwillingly, he pulls them back after a few moments so Minho can bury his frostbitten fingers inside his pockets once again. "I guess not even my warm hands can keep away the cold now, hm?"

Minho lowers his gaze, scared that Jisung can read his next thoughts inside his eyes.

No. No, but your lips could.

"I'm afraid, they can't," Minho says instead, reluctantly thinking about how he should be heading home.

"Let's get going then?" Jisung proposes, the look in his eyes mirroring the way Minho feels.

It's a little pick-me-up, to know that they're both on the same page. 

A little encouragement to make his legs stand up and wait for Jisung to join him at his side.

"Yeah, let's go."

Their stroll towards their homes begins as comfortable as earlier and doesn't just end at the park's exit, given Jisung's proposal that shows Minho yet again how he doesn't really want to part ways either. 

"I'll accompany you to the bakery if you don't mind?"

Minho looks into Jisung's gentle, expectant face, feels his little smile widening. "Don't mind at all."

This way they can let the darkness around them cover them like a comforting, private veil where it's only them, where Jisung finds the courage to slip into Minho's pocket again, this time carefully pulling at his hand so he can freely intertwine their fingers with each other.

Minho's heart does a little jump at Jisung's warm, warm hand enveloping his, melts against his arm and can't hold back his other hand from creeping around it, holding on tight.

It's hard to not let his head rest against Jisung's, to feel his warm, soft hair against his cold temple. 

At least his thoughts about it warm him from the inside and he settles for now, sated by Jisung leaning into his touch and rambling about his coding class and the task they got assigned – putting together a one pager about something they love.

"Everyone I talked to will do something completely random, so I'll make a website all about cheesecake," he laughs, squeezing their fingers. "And I'll think about yours to keep me motivated. 

"Oh, I sure hope you do," Minho giggles, getting lost in thinking about new flavors and add ons Jisung could like.

Wanting to stay like this forever, time moves faster than Minho prefers and way too soon they're standing in front of the closed bakery. 

Minho gets pulled out of his thoughts with reluctance when they're disentangling their fingers slowly, lingering, until Minho steps forward and turns around to face Jisung, already missing his warmth, his gentle eyes that look back at him now.

Before it can get awkward anyhow, from their lack of knowledge on how to say goodbye, Jisung already has his arms around him, guiding him into a tight hug.

There's one strong arm around his middle and a warm hand on his neck and Minho allows himself to bury his face into the crook of Jisung's nape, relishing how good and warm he smells, a little sweet, yet so heavy and addicting. Jisung smells of pure comfort.

Minho lets out a quiet sigh when his cold nose brushes over the side of Jisung's neck, giggling when Jisung lets out a little screech from the difference in temperature. 

"You really need a walking heater following you everywhere so you won't suffer any frostbites."

"Luckily, I have you," Minho dares to say and Jisung's genuine giggle and the way he tightens his embrace make Minho not regret saying it.

"Thank you for this nice evening," is all he adds then, not yet wanting to let go, yearning to drag out this moment as much as possible.

"Thank you for spending it with me." 

Jisung's reply comes so naturally and Minho loves how easy it feels to trust his words, to trust him that he truly enjoys his company.

After a long while, they let go of each other and Minho feels dizzy – from Jisung's scent, from all this proximity he got spoiled with in such a short period of time. If it wasn't for Jisung's fingers wrapped around his shoulders, he surely would've tripped.

But with Jisung's support, he stabilizes himself and looks into an expression full of excitement, such a loud sentiment that promises that their story has just begun. 

Minho feels his cheeks heat up from the same enthusiasm bubbling up inside of him, eager to know the cause of Jisung grabbing him with this happy fervor that screams I want to spend time with you.

His heart is fluttering like crazy and he doesn't think that it will ever stop.

So he takes a leap and tries to not be scared, of being too much, of scaring Jisung away, with his everyday life and his problems.

He smiles and nods and it just feels right.

"Let's exchange numbers, yeah?"

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

Following up on Jisung's request turns out to be the best decision ever.

Texting Jisung is Minho's escape out of his scary mind and the source of little serotonin boosts throughout his day. 

It has him giggling whenever Jisung sends him a dorky selfie or a cute doodle when he's sitting bored in class, always making him unlock his phone in eager anticipation of a new message.

It makes hard times without customers way more bearable because Jisung always has something encouraging to say in one of his numerous voice messages, with his warm and gorgeous voice. 

Sometimes he even gives Minho a quick call when he's got some time on his hand, to distract him a little and cheer him up.

All those bits and pieces of Jisung, safe inside his phone, Minho keeps so close to his heart. 

His heart that feels mended with every of their conversations and days spent together, visible in Minho's reflection anytime he looks into a mirror at work or at home. 

Or inside a shop window when he's walking home and is talking and smiling with Jisung on the phone.

His complexion looks a tad fresher, his eyes shine a little brighter. He looks hopeful, looks like he laughed his heart out only minutes ago and now slowly comes down from his high, basking in the afterglow of unadulterated happiness. 

And having each other's number benefits Jisung just as much. It's the perfect tool for Minho to lure Jisung in – with pictures of cheesecakes and red velvet cookies and vanilla cupcakes with sprinkles on top. 

It's been a week since they've started texting and shortly after their first texts, Jisung's sent him his timetable so Minho always knows when he's free.

As if by magic, all of Minho's new baked creations find their way as pictures into their chat, miraculously in time for Jisung's free periods and always accompanied by the same question.

Wanna come over? :) 

On my way!!! 

Minho must be so obvious with how often he asks but it's hard to care when Jisung seems so eager to spend time with him as well. 

When everytime Jisung steps into the bakery, it's with his heart smile and his arms stretched open wide to welcome Minho with a tight hug. 

And even when Minho is busy baking while Jisung arrives, he simply looks for a seat and makes himself at home. Most of the time with an iced americano by his side because Changbin remembered his regular order right from the start, being quite fond of this giddy boy and his full cheeks and his love for Minho's cheesecakes.

Minho always knows before he sees him – because of Changbin who watches him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow when he reappears from the baking room, because of his teasing there's someone waiting for you, because of a gentle hand patting his shoulder whenever Minho blushes and bites back a smile. Always trying not to be too obvious looking for Jisung's seat. 

The smile he's sporting when he spots Jisung already says it all, though.

"I'm taking over, Min, you can take a break," Changbin always says then. 

And Minho just feels so infinitely thankful for his supportive friend that didn't give up on him, is buzzing with excitement when he's on his way to Jisung's seat and can finally slip back into his happy, peaceful bubble.

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

Minho's favorite days are Wednesday and Friday, the days when Jisung finishes uni early and spends his afternoons and evenings with him, quietly working on his projects or drawing away on his tablet while Minho is busy with work.

And once Minho closes up, it's just them – and a little bit of tidying up to do, which Jisung gladly helps him with. 

"You really don't have to do that, Ji," he says with a shake of his head and a sheepish smile, one evening when it feels as if Jisung owns his bakery from all the cleaning up that he does. 

Rarely any of his past partners helped him at all, were only satisfied when Minho finally came home, and even then they always found a reason to complain.

"I want to!" Jisung assures him after he's finished wiping the tables, so completely different to anyone he's ever known more intimately. "It's just my plan to slowly infiltrate your mind and make you believe that a helping hand isn't something evil."

Minho's ears grow hot and he wipes his wet hands on his apron, avoiding Jisung's gaze. "I know that it's nothing evil. I just– feel more comfortable when I can do things on my own."

It's Friday, nearly three weeks since they first met, and they've grown close so quickly. 

It's a natural thing for Jisung to run up to him at the sink and sweep him up into his arms, easily lifting him up and making him giggle. "That shouldn't feel comfortable!!"

"Give me a break!!" he giggles even more now that Jisung shakes him mid-air and looks up at him with his wide smile.

He carefully places him back onto his feet, then gently pats his pink cheek, smirking at him. "Don't want to break your old man spine."

Minho scoffs and turns around to hide his little, traitorous smile. "I am 23, Jisung, and only two years older than you, thank you very much." 

He hears Jisung click his tongue as he reaches behind himself to untie his apron, his fingers flailing in the air because he can't locate its knot immediately.

"Can't even take off his own clothes anymore," Jisung teases and undoes the bow with skilled fingers, carefully pulling the apron over his head. 

"You didn't give me any time to try myself–" Minho replies with an affronted huff, hearing his own voice weakening mid sentence because Jisung is so close all of a sudden, because Minho just wants to take a step back and feel his warmth pressed against him. 

But he doesn't dare to act on his desire, wants to give Jisung enough space and only fetches the clothing item out of Jisung's hand, about to hang it back onto the clothing rack.

Jisung's arms hold him back, though, sneaking around his waist and holding him in place.

It feels nice, so nice that Minho closes his eyes and hums quietly, delighting in the feeling of Jisung's warm front fitting so perfectly against his back, just like he's imagined.

And then there are lips pressed to the back of his neck, hot and lingering, and Minho's breath hitches in his throat, his heart beating so fast Jisung must feel it beneath his fingertips. 

"Jisung," he breathes, his eyes fluttering open when Jisung retreats slowly, his exhale hitting Minho's bare skin and covering him in goosebumps. The wonderful kind. 

"What was that for?"

"Um–"

Minho turns around, with his ears red but his eyebrows raised, a teasing counterattack on the brink of leaving his mouth.

But in front of him a dazed Jisung stands, with a pink face and an apologetic look in his big eyes, eyes that linger a little bit too long on Minho's lips before his gaze turns cloudy, his mind far away.

"Hey Ji, is everything alright?"

It's Minho's turn to worry, and though he still feels the scorching imprint of Jisung's lips on his skin, he manages to stay focused, tilting his head.

"Yeah– just… just a little overwhelmed," he mumbles, disheartened and small, before letting his face slump into his hands. 

His next words are quiet and rushed but Minho understands them nonetheless, immediately alarmed.

"You're just so pretty, Minho," Jisung confesses into his hands, palms pressing into his eye sockets, his voice turning impossibly quieter. "And I really like being close to you. But– it always throws me off because I'm scared."

Minho immediately senses the discomfort in his confession, the guilt, and immediately takes him into his arms. "I really like being close to you, too."

Jisung laughs wetly into his shoulder and clings onto him, his little fists gripping the back of Minho's sweater. "I'm sorry for being this awkward little dude, I'm just– I'm just so… torn between thinking and feeling. I'm scared of doing things too quickly."

Minho holds him through his big feelings, holds him tenderly and strokes over his warm head.

"There's no need to be sorry, really, you have every right to feel that way."

Jisung nods into his sweater, slowly relaxes and melts into Minho's embrace, sighing. "I just wished it wouldn't fuck me up this bad, still."

Minho hums, pulls him even closer. "It'll get better with time, Ji. Promise."

And he just holds him for a while, reminding him that he's not going anywhere.

Right from the start, Minho learns that though Jisung is always happy to initiate physical contact, searches for it even, he closes up whenever something feels too intimate, the bittersweet taste of heartbreak clinging to every endearment that's more than just hugging and holding hands.

Jisung confided in Minho the first week they met, when they were sitting on their bench in the park, Sunday afternoon, the sun shining and comfortably warming their faces.

He told him with a frown and a distant gaze, with his arms tight around his drawn up legs, for comfort.

He told Minho that he wanted to warn him, that he's a little bit of work. Quiet and small, he talked about how he's gotten his heart broken about a year ago, by the very first person he opened up to and showed himself all vulnerable, only to be treated badly and be abandoned right after.

"I shouldn't have ignored all the red flags, to be honest," Jisung added with a sad laugh, his gaze still lowered, reminiscing times gone by. "He wasn't very fond of my daydreaming, and he couldn't handle my anxiety and especially not the fact that I'm a very, very easy cryer."

Minho was listening intently, occasionally reaching out to stroke over his back, uttering quiet words of solace whenever Jisung seemed extra distressed. 

And he felt his heart cramp up all painfully when Jisung's voice turned notably shaky and thin and he really had the audacity to blame himself for his hurt, with a tiny shrug of his shoulders and a barely audible should've seen it coming.

It made Minho wrap his arms around him without a second thought and pull him into a tight embrace, holding him through the trembles that were doubling when Jisung couldn't hold back his tears anymore. 

"It's okay," Minho said, gently, while scrambling for the tissues in his pocket and holding it underneath Jisung's cute, red nose. "It's okay, Ji."

"E-Everything I feel, I feel so deeply and it just fucking sucks sometimes," he hiccuped through his tears, shooting Minho a teary-eyed but thankful gaze as he took one tissue, then leaning back against Minho's shoulder. "I just wanna be fearless for once, wanna enjoy being with you and not shy away because of the stupidest reasons– god, because one idiot decided to be mean to me."

Jisung's feelings were valid, to say the least. And Minho needed him to understand that.

"Your reasons aren't stupid in the slightest, Ji," he began, heart hammering in his chest because he really wanted to find the right words. "You've been through a really tough time and it makes total sense to struggle with letting people close. It's not easy to just forget how horribly a person that you trusted treated you, especially when you were showing yourself so vulnerable."

Jisung's turned quiet as he was listening to Minho's words, nestling his head closer into his chest, and Minho hoped he could be the comfort Jisung so desperately needed in that moment. A little thank you left Jisung's lips before he quietly blew his nose, laughing into the tissue.

"I'm really sorry that I brought this topic up. That's such a deal breaker."

"Don't be silly," Minho gently told him off with a shake to his head and a light frown. "I'd rather want to thank you for trusting me with it."

The only sting he felt in his chest was this sheer overwhelming yearning to have met Jisung earlier, to protect his already fragile heart from all this hurt. Other than that, he just felt glad. That Jisung felt comfortable enough to tell him all this. 

To make Minho understand why he zoned out and shrinked into himself the moment they were settling on the bench and Minho found the courage to press his lips to the crown of Jisung's hair.

"I'll be more considerate from now on, yeah?" Minho promised, peeking down at him with a smile. "We don't have to define what we are, not at all– we're just Jisung and Minho, no more, no less. You can set our pace and I'll gladly follow your lead."

From the way Jisung giggled into his chest, Minho thought he's got his words just right. "Sound good?" he asked, his smile deepening, looking down and seeing rosy, puffed cheeks. Such a lovely sight. 

"Very good."

It's what Minho reminds him of after the lips to neck incident – that there's no need to rush, that it's absolutely fine to take a step back after already having stepped forward.

When they part again, Jisung seems soothed, more calm, his expression bright and clear when a grateful smile curls around his lips. "Thank you for being so understanding, Minho. You don't know how much that means to me."

Happy to have helped, Minho reaches for his hand and guides him with feathering steps and a swing to their joint fingers to the comfortable seating area at the back of the bakery, makes Jisung sit with a gentle push against his shoulder.

"Up for some cookies and your fav tea? I still have some left from today."

Minho tries to ignore the slight widening of Jisung's eyes before he regains his composure, too kind to not say anything. "I'd love that, Min."

"Be right back," he rushedly says, turning around quickly enough to not let Jisung see the worry in his eyes.

It's the first time Minho is left with some leftover cookies, even the red velvet ones, his best sellers.

While waiting for the water to boil, Minho tries to occupy his gloomy mind by arranging the cookies all nicely on one of his floral porcelain plates. Yet, he feels his fingers twitching involuntarily from wanting to grab the plate and hurl it against a wall, together with the cookies, his nemesis.

He grabs the edge of the countertop instead, his knuckles turning white from the force behind his grip to not go insane.

It's easy to forget the sword of Damocles dangerously swinging above his head when he's with Jisung. When he tells Minho that everything will be alright and that they'll find a way to turn this all around.

And Minho wants to believe him so badly, wants to throw all those buts and what ifs overboard, but he knows how hard it is to survive in this business – how close to impossible it is to regain customers after already having lost them.

Especially when you're a stubborn idiot who's turning into a vampire hissing at garlic whenever someone offers their help.

Minho couldn't help it – his younger self that so desperately needed a helping hand, supportive parents, some encouraging words, a kind partner, got disappointed over and over again, didn't get any of that. Adult Minho accepted this, putting all this behind him. 

Either a miracle happens or he'll have to give up on his dream, easy as that.

With the tea and cookies in hand, he tries to shake off his dark mood, finding solace in the mental image of Jisung enjoying his baked goods and praising him for it.

Looking up from balancing the cup he put too much water in, he barely catches how Jisung scrambles to quickly lock his tablet and let his pen inconspicuously slide into his backpack, oddly perceptive for his otherwise dreamy nature.

"Oh, what did you draw?" Minho asks as he puts everything down the table and sits next to him, immediately keen-eared.

Jisung is an endearingly bad liar, his red face and lowered gaze not helping him with his credibility when he says, "Uh, nothing special, just– just some silly doodles."

Minho decides to not press any further, too exhausted to remind Jisung of his no help policy, certain that Jisung wants to execute the ideas he mentioned on their very first day at the park, after Minho has let him in on his struggles.

"Please don't worry about me, Ji, you have your own battles to pick," is what he can't bite back though. 

He can't bite back a smile either when Jisung wraps a hand around his arm and leans into him, snatching a cookie from the plate and taking an indulgent bite.

Jisung reminds him of his cat Dori, always the first one to get his paws on the treats Minho lays out for his three babies, always enjoying it the most with savoring meows.

"I can pick several battles at once, thank you very much," Jisung says after his first cookie, and Minho feels fondness bloom in his chest as he watches Jisung straighten up to carefully pick up the mug and take a sip, his whole demeanor just so awfully sweet.

He can't stifle the coo that emerges from seeing Jisung's little fingers wrapped around the mug, from his lips that he purses, careful to not burn himself.

Minho wants to hold him and never let go, wants to make sure that this sweet, fragile soul feels safe and sound, always, always, always.

So he tries to block out the tightness in his chest from knowing that Jisung wants to help him, that he's stubborn about it. He wants to enjoy this with Jisung – quiet evenings with comfort food and sitting together so very close, with lots of snuggles and listening to calm playlists in comfortable silence.

Jisung seems to agree, when he slumps back against Minho's arm and sighs, long and content.

"Oh, and Min?

"Yeah?"

"Can you call me Hannie from now on?" Jisung asks with a hinted smile in his voice, fingers playing with Minho's hand and warming it in the process. Warming Minho's everything along with it – his chest, his toes, his cheeks. "It was my favorite nickname before I met him and I want it back."

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

The following days Minho comes to know the joy of calling him Hannie.

He must be annoying with it even, from the way he overuses Jisung's nickname, uses it at any given opportunity because it rolls so effortlessly off his tongue, because he can't get enough of Jisung's reaction, of his rosy cheeks and his gaze that stays glued to him afterwards, fond and warm.

Minho uses it when they're hugging hello and goodbye, when Jisung seems anxious and restless and Minho talks to him softly, when he admonishes him for being on his laptop all the time, when he showers him with compliments and little gentle remarks.

Minho can't help it. It's in his head all the time.

The softness of the name just fits perfectly to the soft person that Jisung is, to the way he paces about the café in the mornings, energized from the americano he drank, renewing the flower decorations with freesia and cornflower and dianthus, always sniffing them midway and sighing blissfully afterwards. 

My Hannie is so cute is all that Minho can think of in those moments, letting the fond smile bloom freely on his face because he knows when Jisung sees he'll get one in return.

And Minho loves Jisung's smiles because they're so bright and unapologetic, because happiness looks wonderful on Jisung.

It's when his name echoes in Minho's head all over again, with Jisung right in front of him, giving him an excited look and reaching for his hands from across his table.

My Hannie is so pretty, what the fuck.

"Do you wanna go to the movies tomorrow?" 

Minho has to blink several times to drag himself back to earth, to break the spell of Jisung and his dark, cordial eyes that never fail to take him all in. 

"We could watch the horror movie we talked about a few days ago."

It'd be the first time for them to really go out.

And the thought of them together inside the darkened cinema hall, sharing popcorn and whispered commentary on the film, maybe even holding hands and leaning into each other at the scariest parts, has giddy excitement surging through his veins, making his heart flutter so excitedly inside his warm chest. Minho always feels like a hummingbird when he's with Jisung. 

"I'd love to, Hannie," he answers then, startles with how fast Jisung throws his arms into the air in a silent cheer, leaving Minho giggling out loud.

"Cannot wait!!!" Jisung exclaims and guides his fists into Minho's waiting palms before relaxing them so that Minho can really hold them. "I'm so excited, Min. Can't believe I finally found someone who likes horror movies as much as I do."

Jisung is literally vibrating and Minho can't hold it against him. 

"Can't wait either, Hannie. I've only heard good things about the film," he answers, finds himself looking down at their joint hands and feeling the intense wish to just bring them to his lips and give each of his knuckles a little peck, each of his endearing, slightly crooked fingers a gentle kiss. 

But he stops himself, doesn't want Jisung to feel even an ounce of discomfort, so he peels his eyes off their connection and tries a little smile, ignoring how hot his ears feel. "At what time does it start?"

Only then Minho realizes how flustered Jisung looks, that he has a hard time not to glimpse at Minho's lips, his mouth opening and closing as if he's in a limbo between what he's used to say and what he wants to say.

In the end Jisung's desire seems to take over and he says it, making Minho's hummingbird heart take flight. "You know, I– I wouldn't mind."

His fingers twitch along with his words and Minho instantly gets the memo.

"Are you– are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay–"

Minho's mouth feels so dry all of a sudden and he hopes that Jisung doesn't notice how damp his palms have become as he takes one of Jisung's hands and brings them to his lips with a shy smile, his eyes close to fluttering shut, half lidded after the first kiss to Jisung's index finger.

Jisung's breath catches and Minho pauses for a while, giving him the opportunity to pull his hand out of Minho's loose hold, but he doesn't. 

He's enjoying it as much as Minho who's brushing his lips over to the next finger, relishing how soft and warm Jisung's skin feels against his lips. Then he kisses his middle and ring finger, softly, before pressing an indulgent kiss to the part where Jisung's pinky is most crooked.

Jisung comments his endearments with little sighs, with a tiny bit of pressure when he pushes his fingers against Minho's lips, so eager to feel him.

With a hazy mind and with prickling lips, Minho pulls back, drinking in Jisung's thank you.

Carefully, his knuckles stroke over the side of Minho's cheek and then he opens up his palm, cradling his face for a little while, his thumb tracing Minho's cheekbones.

And Minho simply enjoys, with a sated smile and a dizzy head and his whole being buzzing with anticipation for more. Soon.

"Thank you for always being so considerate, Min," Jisung says softly, lets out a quiet giggle when Minho turns his head and sneakily kisses his palm, making a funny engulfing sound. 

"Of course, Hannie," he answers after they've calmed down from their giggle fit. "You deserve nothing less." 

Jisung almost only smiles to himself, lost in a memory Minho knows nothing about. But maybe he doesn't need to know, not when it concerns Jisung's past, and Minho knows that he's Jisung's present, hoping with all of his heart that he'll be his future, too. "You slowly make me believe you're right."

His expression turns gloomy then and Minho wishes so badly that events that have passed or people that have left would lose the power over their victim, wouldn't be able to inflict pain, to hurt his Hannie. He wants to even out his frown with another kiss.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Minho asks after having watched him for a while. Jisung is completely lost in thought, only looking up after Minho's question, with eyes wide as if he's surprised that he's been so obvious. "I can see that something's bothering you, Hannie."

But Jisung is struggling for words, twisting his mouth as he fixates on the tabletop in front of him. "It's– it's kind of pathetic, and– god, not something you need to listen to, really."

Minho only shakes his head with an understanding smile. "If it's bothering you, I'm happy to listen."

"Oh god, okay. I'm really sorry for all these TMIs lately."

His encouraging words seem to give Jisung a gentle nudge, though, and he nods to himself, fingers fiddled together in his lap, his whole face flushing this light pink color that Minho has come to adore.

"So, I was just thinking about the time my ex and I were doing… it, and uh, it was my first time actually so I got a little emotional and started crying and– yeah, he didn't take that so well. He was actually very insensitive about it," Jisung grimaces, shyly meeting Minho's eyes. "I remember feeling really vulnerable so his remarks hurt even more than they usually did."

Minho's heart stings at this new information, at a small, huddled Jisung reliving this hurt.

"Oh Hannie, you didn't deserve this," he begins, holding out his palm for Jisung to put his hand into. "You know, it's always okay to cry. It's something so natural and actually, it showed him how good you felt? What a fucking idiot. I would've ki—"

Minho winces, surprised about the intimate words that nearly stumbled past his lips. He's close to physically slapping his hand over his mouth if not for Jisung's hand inside his palm.

I would've kissed your tears away.

That's what Minho wanted to say but he doesn't dare to elaborate, fearing that he'd overstep their boundaries. So he starts again, relieved that Jisung didn't really catch his slip-up.

"Just know that I'd never ever judge you for that," Minho promises, starts grinning. "I'm your personal safe space."

"That I already know," Jisung grins back and stands up to sit next to him, nestling into his side with his legs thrown over Minho's thighs. "I feel really comfortable with you."

Minho wraps his arms around him with a sigh and lets his temple rest against Jisung's head, taking in this warm scent that's so inherently Jisung, that smells of honey and of the sun, of freshly baked apple pie and the warmth in his beloved baking room.

"I'm glad."

Lulled in by Jisung's presence, he lets his eyes fall shut, a little smile always present on his face when he's with him. 

And they simply are for a while, existing only for their warm embrace, their closeness and the way their breathing slowly turns in sync with long and deep exhales. Minho wouldn't be surprised if their heartbeats aligned, too.

Then he remembers the joy that awaits them tomorrow and with a quiet, soft voice, he breaks their comfortable silence, underlines his words with gentle strokes over Jisung's back.

"Let's have lots of fun tomorrow, yeah?"

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

Oh, and they did.

It all starts with Minho picking Jisung up in the afternoon – with his car, since the cinema's located at the outskirts of town. 

Minho isn't prepared for how warm and intimate it feels to have Jisung inside his car, isn't prepared for his perfume to fill its interior and make his heart swell inside his chest – an almost natural reaction by now. 

The sweetness of it never fails to comfortably cloud his mind and hardly let him think of anything, anyone else. But it's even harder not to notice the effort Jisung put into his appearance. 

His dark hair is styled, his cheeks and lips a tad more rosy than on his uni days, and his clothes are carefully put together, his light blue sweater looking brand new, his converse squeaky clean. 

And then there are these glasses, round and golden rimmed, perched upon the soft slope of Jisung's nose – he looks so handsome Minho might've forgotten how to put the car in reverse.

"Thank you for picking me up," Jisung greets him with a shy smile before putting his seat belt on and making himself comfortable, hands in his lap and knees cutely knocking together. "I wish I had a car."

"I can be your personal chauffeur, Hannie," he answers Jisung, smiling with his eyes fixated on the street to stop himself from staring, to not accidentally stall the engine. "Owning a car can be quite handy at times, other than that it just hurts your wallet."

"It's settled then," Jisung grins at him as Minho safely maneuvers them onto the street. "I'll pay for tickets and food."

In the end, after some heavy, heavy protests, Minho did manage to turn his plan around and at least pay for Jisung's food, getting him the biggest bucket of popcorn they're offering.

And though Jisung tries to sway Minho with his protesting pout, the sparkling in his eyes when Minho hands him the huge bucket exposes him in an instant. The little happy fists Jisung can't hold back when Minho gets him a Dr. Pepper are all but reassuring, too. 

"Thank you, Min," he smiles brightly, gladly letting himself get led by Minho's hand on his lower back as he takes an indulgent sip. They're both so excited to do this together, to take this small yet crucial step forward in their relationship, and Minho is powerless against all the butterflies inside his belly, can't help but steal a few glances at his Hannie so handsome by his side as he's leading him through the red carpeted, dark hallway and the even darker cinema hall.

The movie is great, scary, gripping even – more often than not they find themselves tense and searching for each other's hands to hold tightly.

And at every jumpscare Jisung jumps as well until he's had enough and puts his hands in front of his eyes to peek through the little gaps of his fingers. 

"I don't want to perish from a heart attack, Min," he leans in and whispers, to justify his little cheat. "I'm having way too much fun on this date."

Date.

Minho preens when Jisung leans in even further, his head resting on Minho's shoulder. With a quiet snicker, he puts an arm around him and reaches out to stroke over Jisung's hair, daydreaming about pressing a kiss to Jisung's forehead, the movie forgotten for a while. "I'll let it slide this once."

Thankfully, they both make it out alive and eagerly share their opinion on the movie and what they liked best, talking about the scariest scenes and the ones that had them roll their eyes because to this day, some horror movies seem to have an issue with logical, thought through decisions – may it be the stereotypical plan of a group to part ways, or that one weak, hyperventilating member that inevitably leads them all into deathly situations.

"But to be honest, I'd probably be the first one to die," Jisung giggles on their way home, filling Minho's car with this lovely sound. Sometimes he wishes for a mason jar to be able to capture Jisung's voice – so warm and bright, it must glow in the dark like fireflies.

"I'd get you out alive, Hannie, don't you worry," Minho reassures him with a cheery laugh. "You make sure that my cold limbs stay attached to my body and I'll fight off any demon that dares to come close."

"Deal."

Their ride home to Jisung's dorm feels light and comfortable, something Minho wasn't sure about at all since all of this is so much more, a date with a lot more meaning to it.

All they did before was going to the park and drinking up the sun on their bench together, going shopping when Minho needed some special ingredients for a new recipe, when Jisung needed some new supplies for his tablet or his arts and crafts collection. All in all, lovely yet easy stuff, canceling out the possibility of a date thought emerging and possibly making things awkward or uncomfortable for Jisung.

That's why Minho loves spending time at the bakery because it serves as an in between space of some sorts: a comfortable place where Jisung finds solace without worrying about the meet up being too intimate, like Minho's home with his bed and his personal belongings and something that could remind Jisung of his past relationship.

It goes the other way around, too. With Jisung, Minho feels comfortable inside these four walls that feel suffocating without him. Jisung is always able to brighten his mood.

It makes Minho even weaker, though.

He knows that his coping mechanism is not ideal – to push away his problems and ignore them, to simply enjoy the time he's given with Jisung. And still, he isn't strong enough to stop, knowing that wallowing in his scary thoughts wouldn't get him anywhere, either.

"Can you accompany me upstairs?"

Jisung pulls him out of his thoughts after they've arrived at his dorm, and Minho's taken aback for a moment, surprised at Jisung's proposal.

And this slight delay of an answer has Jisung blushing furiously, his gaze stuck on his feet before peeking at him for a shy second.

"Don't want to let you go yet," he sheepishly explains and Minho feels a warm yearning taking over his body, his mind. Makes him babble in a totally non attractive way.

"Oh, yeah, yes, of course, sure!"

But Jisung doesn't mind – he never does, seems okay with anything Minho says.

It always soothes his heart.

After they both exited the car and Minho stepped to his side, Jisung takes his hand like it's the most natural thing in the world, leads him through the glass doors and up the stairs, a hummed sing sang leaving his lips.

It doesn't take long until they've arrived at Jisung's door, painted in a modern looking gray, fitting to the sterile hallway with white walls and a carpeted floor.

Surely, Jisung's room looks the complete opposite – with warm colors and fairy lights, with a desk and walls full of art, whether it's his own or bought from other artists. He most certainly has a big plushie, too, on his comfy bed, with big headphones hanging from the headboard, with cuddly blankets scattered everywhere.

Minho can't wait to find out one day.

And he can't wait to find out how they'll say goodbye.

Because now they're standing here, across from each other, and it feels like the goodbye after a date, with both parties not sure how to proceed, with their hearts beating up their throats and their want to feel each other close, closer, closer than ever before, to make the most out of the last few moments they've got left together.

"I really had so much fun tonight," Jisung begins and smiles to himself, his fingers reaching for the hem of Minho's cardigan, playing with one of the wooden buttons. "It felt different to what we're usually doing and I really enjoyed that."

Minho's heart does a little jump at his words, now knowing that they're truly on the same page. 

"Me too, Hannie," he reassures him, carefully taking Jisung's busy fingers into his hand, watching his pretty lips curl up into a slight smile, the top of his full cheeks so lovely and rosy. Minho's lips prickle from the mind dizzying need to kiss him. "I'm so glad we did this, together."

Next thing Minho feels are Jisung's arms around him, his words muffled from his face pressed into the crook of Minho's shoulder. "That makes me so happy."

Minho holds him tight, fingers carding through the soft hair on the back of his head. 

And they're so close, with their chests touching when Jisung nestles even closer, their cheeks brushing together when he lifts his head a little.

Minho closes his eyes, would be perfectly fine to just stay like this forever. 

He's listening to their even, in sync breathing and it calms him, calms his excited heart before it begins drumming in his ears, because Jisung's breathing stutters so suddenly and he turns his face, his warm lips brushing over Minho's cheek, as delicately as a butterfly's wings.

Minho takes in a sharp breath, the hand on Jisung's back fisting the fabric of his sweater, the hand on the back of his head remaining gentle, not wanting to pressure him into anything.

Way too soon, the whipsery touch of Jisung's lips is gone, and Minho just wants to know.

Wants to know if there's a possibility of feeling it again.

"Was that okay?"

"Yeah."

His voice shakes from unfiltered want, shakes him to the core.

"Please– Hannie, please do it again."

And Jisung does.

He turns his head even more and kisses in earnest, his lips pressed to Minho's cheek for one, two, three seconds, for two shuddering exhales leaving Minho's agape lips. 

Then he kisses again and again, the last press of his lips ending at the corner of Minho's mouth, and he savors the feeling, tingling and laced with a promise of their lips meeting so very soon.

Then they're hugging again, Jisung's arms so tight around him that Minho physically feels the relief oozing out of him. 

"Thank you, Min," he says, a slight tremble to his voice. "Thank you for being my safe space."

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

Minho would've never imagined them to grow this comfortable in such a short span of time, but after their first official date, it's what happens so naturally.

Though they're not explicitly talking about it, it's crystal clear to both of them that they're slowly settling into something more exclusive, something meaningful.

They're still spending most of their afternoons in the bakery together but afterwards or on the weekend, they're doing a lot more – going on café hunting dates and clothing shopping sprees and late night drives with their favorite songs blasting through the car speakers. 

And the toasty warm and darkened car interior always serves as the best place for long and deep conversations, until Jisung seeks for Minho's closeness and cutely dozes off, snuggled up against his arm.

More often than not, they're saying goodbye with kisses to cheeks and getting lost in each other's eyes, and every time Minho feels like hugging the whole entire world from being so grateful to have found Jisung. 

He's getting more infatuated with him after every day spent together, can't believe that he's won himself such a wonderful person, so kind and understanding, so talented and creative and so awfully handsome, too.

Minho even had the privilege to spend one evening in Jisung's dorm room, cuddled up together in his comfy bed and watching a horror film that Minho couldn't concentrate on at all.

Not when Jisung decided to snuggle up to him, with his head resting on Minho's chest and one arm sneaking around his waist, with one of his legs moving in between Minho's and his whole front pressed to Minho's side.

It had the same comforting effect on Minho as a weighted blanket, wouldn't his heart nearly jump out of his chest from Jisung's warm scent tickling his nose, from his fingertips drawing little shapes onto his arm and his lips occasionally grazing Minho's jawline. 

And the sweet hums he let out at Minho pressing his lips to Jisung's warm temple had every fiber of him sing with adoration, trying so hard not to hum back at him, like he always does around his cats.

At one point, they didn't even realize that the movie had stopped, their eyes comfortably closed and both simply holding each other.

Their lips were moving languidly and carefully and a little curious too, exploring hands, wrists and bared necks, fluttering eyelids and flushed cheeks without ever kissing for real.

And though Minho's longing for feeling Jisung's lips against his own is growing more urgent with each passing day, he waits patiently, waits for Jisung to feel safe enough to take that step himself.

Until then, Minho enjoys just being with him, always soothed by Jisung's gentle reassurance.

This feels so nice.

I feel so good when I'm with you.

Are you feeling comfortable, too?

He's in awe of Jisung's emotional intelligence, of the way he can always say exactly how he feels, even when it's about feelings that want to eat him up alive. He's done that from the very first day they met.

It's something Minho is badly longing for, too. To simply tell Jisung what's on his mind, what scares him, what makes him anxious.

But he just can't.

Even when the bakery situation is steadily worsening and Minho feels the last bit of control slipping through his fingers, even when Jisung's worried stares and concerned remarks increase notably.

He innerly screams at himself in those moments, urging to just say it , but his mouth won't open, words that'd make Jisung understand left unsaid.

It feels most frustrating whenever Minho notices Jisung absorbed in work on his laptop or tablet, always seeming so serious about it but never wanting to show Minho what he's up to.

He appreciates that Jisung never seems to lie to him, always tells him with a blushing face and an averted gaze that it's not for uni, that he's working on something special. 

But the way he's saying it, as if he wants Minho to know that he's doing it for someone special always leaves him with an uneasy feeling.

Being a scared idiot, Minho never demands to know more though, trying to convince himself that it must be for a friend, or maybe for Jisung himself, that Jisung didn't forget about all the times Minho reminded him not to worry about him and focus on himself.

And even though this approach is far from ideal, even though Minho knows that for the sake of their relationship growing deeper with a fundament stronger and unshakable, he should talk with Jisung about hard stuff, too, but he just can't get himself to. 

Especially because he feels so ridiculous feeling the things he feels, because Jisung makes him so fucking happy. 

He doesn't want anything to dull that firework between them – not the future of his bakery, not his worries about it, not his inability to accept help, not his fear about being too much work for Jisung once he'd open up and burden him with all his emotional baggage, ultimately leading him to leave. 

So he rather sweeps his issues under the rug, looking forward to spending time with his Hannie, times when he breathes freely and negative thoughts can't get to him.

And most of the time, Jisung gets the memo.

But it's not like Jisung's never tried before, to bring up the topic – sometimes, in a quiet moment, Jisung would look at him all worriedly, would begin with a small Minho and a hand looking for his to hold.

"How's it going? Do you wanna talk about it?"

He searches for Minho's gaze when he notices him growing all rigid and tense, one thumb gently stroking over his knuckles.

"It's going fine," Minho says, forcing himself to a carefree smile. "I'm sure it'll get even better in spring. The bakery is always way busier when it's getting warmer."

Which of course is far from the truth – and Jisung seems to see right through Minho's façade. But he doesn't probe.

He always yields, tending to the food in front of him with a quiet sigh. "You know I'm always here to talk and help, yeah?"

"Yeah. I know, thank you," Minho says and squeezes Jisung's fingers, coughing slightly to get rid of the huge lump in his throat.

Minho knows but he never follows through, never takes up his offer, even when he realizes Jisung's growing frustration with every new letdown. 

He only tries to distract Jisung whenever he detects a gloomy expression or a frown, successfully making him giggle with a light joke or a sneaky finger poking into his sides.

It always works that way, letting Minho get back into his bubble of procrastination and denial – until one evening at the bakery, Jisung wants to talk, and this time he doesn't budge. 

"Uh, Min?" Jisung carefully begins, putting his laptop onto the table and turning it on, unsure eyes watching Minho clean up the countertops. "Would it be okay if I showed you something? I– I've been working on it for quite some time."

Minho immediately feels sick to his stomach upon hearing his request and he hates himself for it, has to take a deep breath because suddenly, his chest feels way too tight.

He should've faced this issue so much earlier.

"Depends. What is it about?" he says and tries a smile as he's walking from behind the counters, arms crossed.

Jisung ducks his head at Minho's response and he doesn't dare to meet his eyes. "Well, it's– it's something that could, uh, potentially help you get the word out..." 

Minho feels like crying.

"Jisung, what did I tell you?"

He sits down across from Jisung, arms still crossed, trying to meet Jisung's lowered gaze.

He's all but anxiously biting at his bottom lip, brows brought together in a frown. 

"I know, Min, I know what you told me. But I just couldn't stand seeing you so stressed out all the time. I don't want you to lose all this."

"I am not stressed out," Minho lies, wants this discussion to be over as quickly as possible. "I never even talked about being stressed out and I always told you not to worry about me."

"Minho," Jisung says, his expression sad, openly disappointed when he finally looks up again. "Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not–"

"Of course you are. And it hurts," he interrupts, his eyes desperately trying to convey what Minho tries to ignore. "I've been honest with you right from the start, told you about my past even though it reopened old sores. Because I care about you, Minho. And I never wanted to make you feel left out."

The silence between them is deafening – the truth of Jisung's words hitting Minho with such an intensity that it leaves him unable to respond.

"Please let me in, Minho. I think I deserve being part of every aspect of your life," he pleads, one hand reaching out to get hold of one of Minho's entangled arms.

But Minho can't think straight. He feels cornered and frustrated, dodges Jisung's hand before it can wrap around his wrist.

"Minho?" 

He can hear the hurt so clearly inside Jisung's voice and deep inside him it hurts unfathomably. Minho can't stand hearing anything inside Jisung's voice other than positive emotions, and yet he can't make himself approach him, tell him he's sorry.

"I think that's still my decision to make," he says instead, eyes fixated on his bopping knee. "I've been way too vulnerable in the past and I got disappointed and scolded whenever I built up enough courage to ask my partners for help. I won't make that mistake again."

When Jisung speaks again, his voice sounds a little shaky, and Minho doesn't dare to look up, too scared to see the distress that's coloring his words. "But Minho, I am not your past partners, just like you aren't my ex! Do you understand how unfair it is that they all got your trust and I'm left out in the cold?"

"That's not the same."

"It's exactly the same, Minho! But I won't ever be mad at you for working hard and living your dream," Jisung tells him, exhausted and close to begging. "I want to support you, so please. Please let me."

Minho only shakes his head, so deep inside his self made construct that he cannot get out. One day, Jisung will grow annoyed and leave him just like everyone else did. Minho knows it. Jisung doesn't even have a clue how much work it takes to make his bakery popular again.

"Jisung, can't we just carry on like before? I just wanna spend time with you without worrying about all this, can't we just do that?"

"No."

"But why not?"

"Because relationships are not always bright sunshine, Minho. Sometimes they're about hard conversations and uncomfortable topics, and you can't run away from that," he says, hard-edged and so unlike Jisung, but of course he's nothing but right.

Then his voice turns softer again. "I caught myself ignoring the elephant in the room for way too long because I've been greedy myself, because I've never been so happy in my life than with you by my side. You make me so happy, Min."

Jisung's confession makes Minho finally look up again and he sees tears inside Jisung's eyes, curses himself for being such a fucking idiot. He just wants to take him into his arms and thank him for being so brave and wearing his heart on his sleeve, if it wasn't for his idiotic stubbornness holding him back.

"But I'm so over ignoring what needs to be done," Jisung adds, one finger quickly brushing over his lower lash line. "You desperately need someone to help you turn this thing around, Minho, it's your dream. "

"I know," Minho says meekly, his eyes beginning to sting. 

Jisung reaches out again and this time he gets hold of Minho's wrist, doesn't let himself get shaken off. "Then, please, let me show you what I worked on. I'm sure you'd really like it."

Minho shakes his head again.

And it makes Jisung groan in frustration, on the brink of losing his patience. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

Minho knows that he's overreacting but he feels urged into a corner, just can't have this conversation right now. He needs space to breathe.

"Because I've told you, several times, that I don't want any help. I just wanna be left alone. Why is that so hard to understand?"

A long moment of silence follows after Minho's harsh words and he swears he can hear his own heartbeat ringing in his ears.

After what feels like an eternity, Jisung slowly nods to himself, his gaze far away as he lets go of Minho and closes his laptop to put into his bag. "It's not," he finally says, his voice barely a whisper. "I was simply hoping that I could change your mind and that you cared about us enough to let me in. But I guess I'll stay a side character in your life then."

"Jisung, you're not, of course you're not. You know that."

Jisung shrugs his shoulders, head slumped in defeat. "Not really sure about that."

Then he suddenly leans down and seems to be looking for something inside his backpack, hiding underneath the table. 

But he can't hide the sounds of his soft sniffling, of quiet sobs reaching Minho and filling him with horror.

"Jisung? No no no. Hey. Hey, please don't hide."

With red eyes and wet cheeks, he comes back up again, and the sight breaks Minho's heart. 

"Why not, Minho? So you can give me a good scolding, face to face, about how embarrassing I am for crying?" His eyes are full of hurt, piercing like daggers through his skin, and Minho realizes that keeping Jisung at an arm's length all this time must remind him an awful lot of his past relationship. He feels like throwing up at the realization, his brain too overwhelmed, too cluttered to find the right words.

"N-No, of course not–"

"You really don't feel like a safe space right now," Jisung mumbles and his tears just keep falling, his face scrunched up in a mask of hurt.

His bottom lip trembles helplessly as he's struggling to put his backpack on his lap, his teeth digging into it with force after another whimper escapes him. With so much force it must hurt him.

"You promised me to think about it, the first time we were sitting on our bench. You promised it."

And then Jisung simply gives up and buries his face into his hands, his shoulders quivering.

Minho's brain is going into overdrive, his thoughts on how to save this whole situation going millions of miles per hour. 

He can't believe that he's pushed him so far to say something like that, to be so disappointed in him.

He needs to make this right.

"Please, Hannie, let me explain again–" he begins, his voice heavy with dismay as he reaches forward to gently touch his shoulder.

"Don't call me that, Minho," he talks back, winces and pulls away the moment he feels Minho's touch. It's the last push to close himself off completely.

Jisung slowly stands up to put on his backpack, frustratedly wiping at his wet cheeks. He's done listening.

"You're making me hate that name again–"

Then he storms out of the bakery, quickly, but not fast enough to hide from Minho the moment he starts to sob in earnest. 

And then Minho is left alone at the table he's shared with Jisung over the past few blissful weeks, the contrast to this present moment so stark it leaves Minho lightheaded. He has never felt this lonely, this paralyzed in probably his whole life, unable to do anything but sit there and stare blankly at the tabletop.

He can't get Jisung's eyes out of his mind – his hurt is etched into his brain, his words full of frustration resounding in his chest that feels so hollow now.

He fucked up, badly. 

The realization makes him start crying too, at first quietly, then uncontrollably, sobbing into his hands without knowing how to stop.

Jisung was right. It is unfair to not give him the trust he gave everyone else before. It's unfair for the both of them, to keep their relationship at a surface level because Minho's so bad at accepting help and sharing his scary thoughts.

He hates this, hates himself, hates that he's crying because all it does is make him feel bad, reminding him why he never talks about his deepest fears. It simply hurts too much.

He's crying until his head feels like bursting, until the sun is long gone and he sits in complete darkness.

Only then, Minho stands up with shaky legs, his gaze empty as he's looking for his bag and then his keys to close up the bakery. 

His chest, his heart, they all feel empty now, only reacting and cramping up when Minho thinks about Jisung's tears.

Guilt washes over him, sticks to him like hot wax being poured down on him, the pain unbearable where Jisung has touched him, kissed him.

But Minho forces himself to feel it, a masochistic streak of self-loathing coursing through him, because after all, he's the one responsible for this mess.

Even if that means that his head is flooded with all these moments where Minho has felt Jisung's special love so clearly, not knowing if he'll ever get to feel it again.

He tries to run away from this uncertainty, yearning to be surrounded by his own four walls, so he quickens his steps, his fingers gripping the strap of his cross body bag with force to ground himself, to not burst into tears again.

He asks himself how often Jisung felt bad about Minho closing off, how much effort he had put into letting the topic slide in favor of not stepping on his toes, how much work he must have put into whatever he wanted to show Minho.

And Minho all but stamped it to the ground.

Just as all these troubling thoughts make tears prick behind his eyes again, he reaches his door, takes way too many attempts to unlock it from how much his fingers tremble.

I'm such a fucking idiot is what echoes inside his head over and over again, and not even the happy meows of his three cats welcoming him could calm his agitated mind, could make him stop innerly cursing at himself.

The only thing that makes it stop is the exhaustion finally creeping into his bones at around 2 am, when his trembling body hurting from this horrible headache and his stiff limbs is aching for release, and he drifts into a restless slumber.

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

When Changbin finds him the next morning, with red, puffy eyes and his fingers deep inside a huge batch of bread dough, he immediately takes him into his arms, asks something he's never asked before.

And it makes Minho sob quietly into his shoulder, realizing yet again how badly he fucked up.

"What did you do, Min?"

Minho tries to calm down enough to answer him, forcing himself to take long, extensive and deep breaths.

But it's no use.

"I was so mean, Binnie–," he all but hiccups, barely able to finish his sentence before another sob rips through his throat.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Changbin soothes and holds him a little tighter, one hand stroking over Minho's back. "It's okay, Min, we'll work this out. You'll be alright."

"I- I don't know."

"But I know," Changbin reassures him with a gentle voice. "C'mon, let's sit down."

He grabs a tea towel for Minho to wipe his hands, turns around the open sign hanging at the entrance door and guides Minho to the back of the bakery to sit down more comfortably.

"Now," he begins, his hand stroking over his head before letting it rest on his shoulder, squeezing it. "What exactly happened?"

Minho grabs a tissue from the colorful tissue box Changbin put on the table and quietly blows his nose, desperately trying to stop the sad images from infiltrating his mind – he wants to explain what happened without being shaken by the erratic breathing his crying brings along.

He takes another deep breath in and out and concentrates on Changbin's gentle hand, grateful that he doesn't have to look him in the eye.

"Well… for the last two weeks Jisung was working on something he didn't want to show me. And it– it seemed very important to him because he was so dedicated and serious about it," Minho says, biting his bottom lip hard enough to distract himself from the pain in his chest. "I got scared that he's doing that for me but I never asked him about it.. and yesterday he wanted to show me what he's been up to. And then I panicked.. badly."

Knowing of Minho's issues, Changbin usually doesn't press but this time he doesn't let the topic slide, convinced that their relationship is worth putting in the needed effort, that it's worth saving. "What did you say, Min?"

Minho clings to Changbin's arm for support, squeezes his eyes shut to concentrate on scraping up all his words that he'd rather want to forget.

He tells him about how stubborn he was, how he was lying to Jisung to let the topic die down. He tells him about Jisung practically begging Minho to let him help him and saying how badly he wants to support, that he's totally fine with Minho chasing after his dream. 

With a shaky voice, Minho also mentions how pressured he felt and that it made him hate himself even more because he didn't even give Jisung a chance, because he dodged his touches and made him cry and made him feel like he doesn't belong in his life.

"I hate how my trust issues dictate my life, Binnie," he says, quiet and sad. "Being left alone by my parents and exes because of the bakery really left me with this almost desperate wish to keep that whole issue out of my relationships."

Minho's felt Changbin nodding every now and then, and now he's scared about what he has to say. Maybe he thinks that it's over? That Jisung will never forgive him? 

He desperately tries to fight the panic coursing through him. "Will we be alright?"

"Oh Minho," Changbin hurries to answer. "Of course you will be. You can work through this together. And it's a good thing that you realized what gives you a hard time."

Minho nods into his arm, closing his eyes for a moment because he's so fucking tired. "Okay."

"I don't think that you're in the right headspace to have difficult conversations today, but you can send him a text in the evening, or tomorrow morning?" Changbin proposes carefully. "You have to be patient with him, Minho, I'm sure he's very hurt. But maybe he'll be up to have a talk tomorrow evening. Or the days after."

His heart squeezes painfully inside his chest and he feels paralyzed – by all the images of Jisung and his hurt so visible inside his eyes. Minho needs to replace all those images with only happy ones.

"Y–Yeah, I'll do that."

"It'll be fine, Min," Changbin reassures him, gives him a gentle side hug and presses a little kiss to his hair. "And for now I'll send you home." 

"Wha– why?"

"You desperately need a small break, Min. Go order some of your fav take away and watch a series or something, and cuddle with your cats."

"B-But the bread! And all the work! That's too much for one person," Minho says, already sitting up straight and frantically shaking his head.

"You taught me how to bake bread, Minho, I won't put the bakery on fire," he teases with a small smirk and ruffles his hair. "And it was only you at first, too, remember? I will survive being alone for one day. Don't want you to be here when you're so exhausted."

Changbin stands up and holds out his hands for Minho to take. "Did you even sleep?"

Minho feels caught but can't help a tired smile. "Barely."

"You can catch up on that today," Changbin smiles back at him, gently pulling him towards the front of the bakery. "Recharge your batteries for your talk with Ji."

"Yeah, you're right, I will try. But I'll probably live off of something from my fridge... you know money's tight."

"Don't be silly," Changbin intervenes and takes him into his arms once more to hug him goodbye. "I'll send you some money, Min, I know you've been craving your fav takeaway for weeks now."

Deeply moved by Changbin's care, Minho squeezes his arms around his middle, hiding his face inside his shoulder as he feels his bottom lip starting to tremble. "Oh Binnie..."

Changbin holds him through his tears, unshakable and safe as he's breaking down inside his arms. Minho's bottled up an unfathomable amount of feelings the last couple of months since everything slowly went downhill, and it had been just a matter of time before all those feelings demanded to be heard.

Minho just wished that Jisung didn't get hurt in the process.

"There are so many people that want to help you, Min, you just have to let them," Changbin says after a while, his hand stroking over his back in a slow, calm pattern. "And if you care about Jisung, let him be your support. I can tell how much he cares about you."

"I- I care about him so much," Minho chokes out, desperately trying to even out his shaky breathing and fight the tears from coming back when he thinks about how much he misses Jisung already.

Minho misses how unapologetically himself he is – how he's never afraid to smile his bright smile and laugh at the top of his lungs. He misses him being the most starry-eyed idealist and losing himself in daydreams more often than not because reality can be a scary place. He misses his honesty and his courage to share his feelings, misses the way he gazes at sunsets.

And, god, Minho misses how comfy Jisung looks in his oversized hoodies, misses the feeling that's all warm and giddy when Jisung looks at him with his gorgeous, deep brown eyes, soft and sweet and gooey like chocolate caramel, sticking to him since the moment he first looked at him, drenched and surprised, so thankful that Minho offered him to come inside.

Minho needs him, needs to hug him and apologize a thousand times, needs to feel him close and his warm lips pressed to his cheeks, needs to know that they're okay.

Only Jisung was ever able to make the haunting feeling of failure inside his bakery disappear into thin air, leaving only warmth behind. Secureness and a sense of home.

Minho misses his safe space.

And Changbin brings to him the hope that he needs to believe in a happy ending.

"Then you'll find a way back to each other, don't you worry."

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

Following Changbin's order, Minho finds himself in his bed not long after leaving the bakery.

He made himself a huge pot of peppermint tea shortly before crawling underneath the covers with two of his cookies and the rest of the iced americano Changbin made for him earlier.

After finishing those, he fills his favorite mug with warm tea and takes small, pensive sips, trying to ease the tightness in his chest through deep breaths.

Minho will text Jisung later, he will, he will. But for now he tries to calm himself down, scrolling through his laptop in search for his comfort series and telling himself that they'll be alright. Just like Changbin has said. 

His cats join him not long after and he feels so much more at ease with them by his side, with them nestling close and making biscuits on his blanketed belly and thighs, purring whenever he scratches their cute little fur heads or gives them some treats that he stores inside the drawer of his bedside table.

Once he's finished his tea, he settles comfortably underneath the covers and turns to his side, drawing his legs up for comfort.

Calmed by the purring of his cats and the break Changbin's granted him, rather urged him into, Minho realizes how exhausted he actually is.

Of course he's tired sometimes – and lately it's an everyday feeling. But he never really allows himself to feel it, just works and works until he forgets about his exhaustion and the fact that it's okay to take a break.

And sometimes, it's inevitable – because he's working Mondays to Saturdays and on the last day of the week he finds it impossible to get some rest because he's worrying, because his sundays are filled with calculating his mere income and inevitably higher spendings.

Right now, he lets himself feel everything, encouraged by Changbin's words from earlier, and god, Minho really does feel like shit.

Mentally and physically, he feels just downright drained, beaten down by trying his best to stay afloat all the time.

He feels like a stone, practically sinking into the pillow and the mattress, boneless and cold, unable to even move a finger.

He slips deeper and deeper until he's blinking his eyes closed, his body catching up on the rest that Minho always denied himself, and he falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He only wakes up in the afternoon, dizzy and a little disoriented, to a rumbling stomach and a message on his phone, saying that Changbin just sent him some money.

"Oh Binnie, thank you so much," he mumbles to himself, voice still a little hoarse from sleep, trying to not cry again – Minho still has a headache from yesterday when everything broke out of him and he simply couldn't stop.

Minho takes a mental note of thanking Changbin later. Right now, he's still dreading to open up his messages, knowing how badly his heart would ache seeing Jisung's last message, a cute Finished with classes!! coming now :) when everything was still okay.

So he opens up his food delivery app and looks for his favorite Korean restaurant and the food he's been craving after for a couple of weeks now because pricier takeaway food just always turned into a physical impossibility after every Sunday and his calculations of how much he could spend the next week.

For now he tries not to worry and hurries to put everything into his cart, ignoring his natural reaction of clicking out of the app because the prices are so high. 

And then it feels good to be able to order something yummy, to treat himself a little. It makes the tiny glimmer inside him glow meekly – a gentle reminder of how it feels to have a dream job that can pay his bills.

Minho wants that feeling back, so badly.

And though it hurts craving after a secureness that he can't call his own right now, it sparks something rare – a glimmer of motivation, a passing thought that with a little bit of work, he can return to his old self, inside his bakery that was charming so many people back in its glory days and made him the happiest person alive.

While being caught up in that train of thought, Soonie joins him and bumps into him, his little head rubbing against Minho's cheek.

"Oh Soonie, do you think I can save my bakery?" he mumbles and scratches underneath his chin, earning himself some affirmative purrs. "That everything will be okay again?"

He meows as an answer, bumps his nose gently against his lips, and it feels like a yes.

The rare feeling of hope only heightens when his food arrives and he feels like floating as the first indulgent bite coats his tongue, giddily eating away inside his bed while continuing with his series and gazing out of his window every now and then, to catch the sky colored orange and pink as the sun begins setting.

He'll get there, somehow, again. With his own capability and pulling himself together, with accepting help that his close ones so desperately want to give. 

And he wants his Hannie to be the support he so desperately wants to be.

With his belly full and the bed sheets tucked around him again, it's all he can think about.

And his phone lying in his visual field next to the laptop turns more obvious and demanding with every passing moment until it makes Minho stop following the series still running.

He scrambles to grab the phone with a deep sigh, his heart already hammering inside his chest at the thought of texting Jisung.

But there's no use – he messed it up, he needs to fix this.

To prevent himself from changing his mind, he unlocks his phone extra fast, immediately searches for Changbin's chat to thank him for the money. Secretly, in his mind, he thanks him for bringing back a little bit of his hope, too.

And then he exits their chat and just stares, stares for a very long time at Jisung's last message, his thumb indecisively hovering over the screen.

What should he even say? 

Maybe he'll just keep it very simple.

Minho opens their chat, then clicks into the text box and stares for another while.

Finding an okay greeting already seems impossible – he doesn't want to trigger Jisung by using Hannie, remembering what he said to him yesterday, the last thing before he stormed out of the bakery. But not using his name feels so impersonal to Minho, to the point where it'd hurt him. They're not strangers to each other and Minho wishes with all his heart that they'll never be – he can't imagine not having him by his side anymore.

He rubs small circles into his temples with his fingertips and tries to ease his headache, all while his brain is going into overdrive.

How should I start? With a Hi or a Hey? No Hannie so maybe Ji? Would Ji make him uncomfortable? Or would Jisung hurt him even more? How do I ask for a meet up?

Minho sighs again as he opens his eyes and wraps his fingers around his phone. 

Here goes nothing.

"Hey Ji", he types and quietly reads aloud his own words, starting with a new paragraph because he's too scared to send his messages separately.

"Are you perhaps free tomorrow evening?

I wanted to ask if we could talk.."

Minho feels like fainting when he clicks the send button after another minute of staring, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull when he sees the little online underneath Jisung's name shortly after Minho hit send.

Oh god oh god oh god oh god.

He panic locks his phone and turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. 

Minho is beyond scared of what Jisung will answer, if he even answers. And though he doesn't really want to know, he really, really does at the same time.

So he takes a glance after a couple of minutes.

No messages yet.

Maybe he's taking his time.

Minho unlocks his phone again, only to be greeted by a Jisung is writing… appearing and disappearing over and over again.

He locks his phone at the speed of light, his fingers with an iron grip around it.

With closed eyes and deep breaths he tries to slow down his galloping heartbeat, jumping a little when near silent paws hit the bed right next to him.

And then he feels the little paws crawling up his body, settling on his belly.

Minho peeks through one eye to identify the newly arrived and has to giggle at seeing Doongie staring into his soul.

"Did you three make it your plan to be my comforters?"

Doongie only meows, putting one of his paws on Minho's phone. 

"Oh I see, you wanna be my wingmen?"

Another meow paired with a flick of Doongie's paw and his demand to be taken into Minho's arms says it all though. "No, just jealous. The usual," Minho mumbles with a smile, enjoying how warm his cat feels and how comforting his little weight feels on him. 

And Doongie's presence helps him voice his fears, too, being this gentle listener unable to judge.

"What if he doesn't want to be with me anymore? What if–"

His paw meets his lips, ultimately shutting him up. Maybe he does judge.

But Minho can't shut up his thoughts, thinks about all the answers Jisung could give.

I'm meeting friends, sorry.

I don't want to talk.

Fuck you Minho.

We're done, Minho. Stop texting me.

They'd all make sense and it scares Minho to death.

But not knowing makes the anxious feeling inside him even worse, so he picks up his phone again that fell down his side and forces himself to stare at the screen.

Jisung's answered him.

Hi Minho

Yeah, I'm free

Our usual time? 

Giddiness joins in on the anxiety ever present in his body and it makes him kick his feet and wrap his arms around Doongie before he can escape from his loving embrace.

"He wants to talk!! Doongie, he wants to!!" 

Minho fights the urge to spring up to his feet and dance through his bedroom with his cat inside his arms but decides to spare him the heart attack and releases his pent up energy by banging his fists onto the bed, quiet screeches leaving his lips.

When he feels at least a little more at ease, he grabs his phone again and thinks of what to answer him.

Ultimately, he settles with something simple.

That'd be great 

Thank you Ji

Minho lets out a breath he seemed to have held in forever and sinks back into the mattress, trying to slacken his tense limbs.

Knowing now that Jisung probably doesn't hate him and that he's willing to at least talk leaves Minho with some new found energy and a creative mind.

The remaining evening he spends with planning his morning and mentally reviewing the steps he needs to take for his little I'm sorry for being such an asshole- surprise. 

It helps to distract him a little from the thoughts of their future conversation, knowing that it won't be an easy one.

And though it'll be the scariest step he'll take in a very long time, he wants to do it. He wants to go back to being trusting, wants Jisung to know that he's ready, ready to let him in and save his bakery. One step at a time.

And though he's scared and especially scared about facing Jisung again, he cannot wait to see him, too. Though it's been only roughly a day, he misses him already, badly. Misses the person he is when he's with Jisung – a little more carefree and fun, and hopefully soon, a little more trusting, too.

Surrounded by his cats and their quiet snores, he slowly falls asleep, dreaming of the moment he sees the joy in Jisung's eyes and his bright, bright heart smile when he realizes that he's won the battle against Minho's inner saboteur.

🍰 🍩 🍪 🧁

"Okay," Minho mumbles to himself, tired but determined. "Let's do this."

It's 7 am and he's ready to start his little project.

There are wheat buns, two kinds of bread and croissants already in one oven for the day to come so that he can fully concentrate on the task at hand.

Humming along to some random songs on the radio, he begins mixing up the same ingredients he used the day he first met Jisung – the ingredients for a matcha cheesecake that will serve as a little apology, just a little add on to the real one that Jisung deserves.

And once Minho's put the cake batter into the oven, he continues with part two: filling chocolate ganache into a letter shaped mold and storing it in his huge fridge to solidify.

Carefully, he pushes his sleeves back up to wash his hands and take a little break.

Minho's wearing his favorite sweater today that he feels most comfortable in, lilac colored and knitted.

He also put on a little bit of makeup, to hide the dark shadows under his eyes, and applied his favorite perfume that got him already many compliments from Jisung.

Minho doesn't want to bribe Jisung, or wants to distract him from the reason why they'll meet today, not at all. It just felt natural to him to put in a little effort – he just wants to look pretty for his Hannie.

Stepping out of the baking room, he skips past the seating area, heading for the couch in the back.

He can't afford to make all the tables look nice but he wants to prepare the one in the back – with a lilac tablecloth and two place mats, with some hyacinths that he'll buy later on his break, Jisung's favorites.

Minho smiles fondly at the memory of Jisung bursting into the bakery one afternoon and cradling a bouquet of purple hyacinths in his arms, his whole body nearly vibrating with excitement.

"Min!! I couldn't resist buying these when I walked past the flower shop, god, they smell like heaven!!"

It's always the little things for Jisung.

The littlest things that make him smile the widest.

And Minho hopes that he can be the reason for that smile again.

With a pang inside his chest, he remembers Jisung's trembling bottom lip that resembled the complete opposite of what he should be feeling – happiness, all the time.

It's hard to not let it consume him – the anger towards himself, the fear of not being able to fix his mistakes, of the uncertainty that comes with letting yourself be vulnerable.

Even though he's busy in the morning baking and preparing Jisung's apology cake, he can't quite shake off the near paralyzing feelings of anxiety and failure, feelings so strong that can't even be pushed back by his bakery being a little more alive today.

Changbin helps him through it, though, with a good morning hug and telling him how proud he is of him for seeking a talk with Jisung. He tries to cheer him up with little jokes and gentle words throughout the day, with a compliment about the decorated seating area Minho finalized shortly before closing time.

"I'm sure he'll really appreciate your efforts, Min," Changbin tells him as he hugs him one last time, right before clocking out. "It's clear as day that you want to try, and that's all it needs sometimes, to forgive."

Minho lets out a shaky breath, hopes that he is right. "I want to do more than try, I want to make him happy, Binnie."

A gentle hand meets the back of his head, patting it. "You will, Min. And he'll make you very happy, too. I know it." 

Minho can't help a little laugh, listening to him being so confident about it. "You never were this enthusiastic in the past."

"Well, because unlike Jisung all your exes were assholes," he deadpans but can't hold back the smirk that emerges at Minho's giggle. "Jisung's a first, you know that."

"Yeah I do," he sighs. "Jisung is different. He's different from everybody."

"Yeah, he's a special little man," Changbin agrees, amusement heavy in his voice as they part. He grabs his jacket from the clothing rack and puts it on, mischievous eyes watching Minho being lost in thought. "Your special little man."

Minho blushes at his words, tries to mask his flustered state by heading towards the huge fridge inside the baking room.

"He's not mine," he mumbles, looking down at his feet and playing with the swing door in front of him, trying to distract himself from the always growing wish for Changbin's words to be true.

"… yet."

It's the last thing Changbin says before signing off with a flick of two fingers and his signature smirk, disappearing into the dark evening.

Minho watches his shadow walk towards his parked car and it makes him realize how quickly it's gotten late.

He frantically takes a look at the clock on the wall, screeches when he sees that it's shy before 6 pm. 

With a pounding heart, he storms towards the fridge to take out the cake and bring it to the front.

It turned out really pretty – Minho even used some leftover cheesecake filling to decorate the top and make the chocolate letters pop out even more.

The letters spell out an I am sorry and Minho plans on greeting Jisung with it. 

He's fully aware that he's taking a risk, that Jisung could react badly, given that they parted on such bad terms. But knowing that Jisung is a goner for cheesecake and thoughtful gestures it could be just the right thing to break the ice between them and help Minho find the words to set everything right again.

His fingers are trembling slightly when he picks up the cake and heads towards the seat closest to the front door, to sit down and wait for Jisung to arrive.

Usually, he's always on time despite dreaming away his day so very often, and tonight would be no exception.

Shortly after Minho sat back down from dimming the lights a little and running to his phone to put on his favorite playlist, he catches a small, hooded figure approaching through the big shop windows and heading towards the door.

The chair he was sitting on nearly tumbles over from how quickly Minho springs up to his feet, his heart rate shooting up into the sky as he scrambles to lift up the cake and position it nicely.

And then he just stands there, feels like he's frozen as if only Jisung could warm him up again, by being with him, with his forgiveness. 

With bated breath, Minho watches the doorhandle being pushed down. And then Jisung stands there, across from him, well wrapped up in a black hoodie.

Minho's heart flutters at the sight, at seeing his soft, round face again and his unruly hair peeking out of his hood, his figure so small, so tempting to hold close.

But Jisung looks tired, so, so tired, and it hurts Minho to see the discomfort in the way he stands – legs pressed together and shoulders pulled up, his gaze fixated on the floor. 

"Hi Minho," he mumbles quietly and hides his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie, his shoes tapping on the floor in a restless drum.

"Hey Ji," he answers him with a sad smile, bends his knees a little to try and meet his gaze. 

He wants to get a better glimpse of him, wants to convey, somehow, that he's done being this stubborn idiot and that he wants to do better. "Thank you for coming, Ji, that really means a lot."

His gentle words make Jisung finally look up and oh, Minho's not prepared for his wonderful eyes to look right into his – though his gaze seems reserved, careful even, his eyes didn't lose their warmth, their unmatched softness. 

Minho feels short of breath as he lifts the cake a little bit. "I– I baked something, for you."

Jisung lowers his gaze with a tilted head and furrowed brows, and then his eyes widen, his lips forming into this adorable o-shape that reminds Minho of their magical first meeting. So much has happened since then.

He watches how Jisung's eyes scan over the letters, watches how he starts pouting before looking up, already close to tears.

"Minho–" he starts whining, tries his hardest to stifle a smile but nonetheless falls into the breathless laughter that Minho's missed so much. " You're playing dirty."

Minho can't help but join in on his quiet giggles, eyes brimming with tears from this immense relief washing over him. "I would never."

With little steps, Jisung comes closer, eyeing the cake with a fond look before gazing up again. "Why would you do that, Min?"

And then it's over for Minho, a dam of all kinds of emotions – relief, yearning, exhaustion, guilt – breaking and leaving him stuttering out his next words. "Because I'm so sorry, Ji, I'm so fucking sorry."

Jisung looks surprised and deeply touched, looks like he's never really heard a heartfelt apology before, and it makes Minho feel even guiltier.

With a shaky exhale, he carefully places the cake back on the table, then crosses his arms behind his back, hesitant but hopeful. "Can I hug you?"

Heavy nodding follows after his words and Jisung immediately crashes into him, holding him so, so tight.

And just like that, the heavy weight on his chest is lifted and Minho can finally breathe freely again, something that was so hard since the moment their argument first began. He closes his eyes to really take in this feeling he's missed so much – Jisung's soft hair tickling his cheeks, the warmth his body exudes, his scent that makes Minho feel so homey, so safe.

"I'm so sorry, Ji," Minho mumbles into his hair, gently holding him close with one hand on the back of his head. "I was such an asshole."

"It's okay, Min, really," Jisung only answers, his warm breath tickling the side of his neck, arms not loosening their hold.

His answer makes Minho give a laugh while shaking his head, a string of rushed no's leaving his lips. "It's not, Ji. You really don't have to be nice about this. I was being so unfair and you deserve an apology."

Minho's words seem to stir Jisung up, seem to hit close to home – because right after, he bursts into tears, his face buried inside Minho's shoulder. "Thank you– thank you for saying that." 

It makes it hard not to cry along with him when Jisung feels so small inside his arms and Minho realizes how rarely he must've heard understanding words before, how there was nobody before him that took responsibility for their actions.

Minho would never have the heart to do that, to make Jisung think that he's in the wrong. 

And his efforts are met with Jisung taking a step towards him, slowly opening up. "Please call me Hannie again, please, I've been such an idiot," he blurts out, revealing the need to just go back to how things were. 

And Minho wants to show him that he needs that, too.

"Don't be silly. You were perfect as always, Hannie, so perfect," he continues, with a plan in mind to be the one to mend that broken part inside of Jisung. 

"You were so brave facing this difficult situation even though you knew how stubborn I am and I'm so thankful for that. But I'm so sorry for putting you through all that pain. I'm sorry that you felt like you didn't belong, Hannie, I'm so sorry."

Minho's apology seems to make Jisung cry even harder but at the same time he can feel how all the tension, all the fear about Minho not caring is just pouring out of him and dissolving into thin air.

"I didn't want to pressure you and make you lash out like that, Min, and I'm so sorry for just storming out after being so mean," Jisung hiccups, wipes across his face with one of his sweater paws. "I just felt so frustrated because I was trying so, so hard."

"But now you're here. Thank you for not giving up," Minho quietly says, holding him through his emotional turmoil. "You had every right to finally pull me out of that shell I was living in all the time."

Though his tears are still falling, he can't help a small chuckle. "That shell was made out of granite."

Minho joins him before growing serious again, uttering the words that were on his mind all day.

"I've missed you so much, Hannie."

Jisung squeezes him even tighter. "Missed you too, Min."

Slowly but surely, they're both calming down inside each other's arms, pacified by knowing that they're on the same page. 

That they'd never want to let go of what they have. 

It's when Jisung slowly loosens his hold and turns his head to glimpse at the cake, that Minho notices his curiosity taking over.

"Do you wanna sit down and eat a slice?" Minho proposes, knowing that Jisung is just too shy to ask.

Thankful eyes look up at him and Jisung smiles a little smile, still careful but heartfelt. "Yeah, I could do with one."

That's all Minho needs to lead Jisung to the ready made table by the small of his back, unsure if taking his hand would be a little too much for now. 

He hears Jisung uttering a little oh as he sits down on the couch and sees the pretty decorations and the purple hyacinths, and Minho catches his eyes sparkling when he joins him with a slice of his apology matcha cheesecake.

"This is so lovely, Min, thank you."

Though Minho notices how Jisung exudes exhaustion and the type of hurt still present after a heavy fight, Jisung smiles up at him, then smiles at the cake put in front of him. 

"Just a little something to make up for a fraction of the hurt I put you through," Minho sheepishly mumbles and sits down next to him, careful not to unnecessarily touch Jisung in case he doesn't want that.

"It's a big something, Min," Jisung earnestly says, can't hold back the slight sway of his happy fist as he pierces through the soft cheesecake filling and takes his first indulgent bite. 

"And it's as yummy as always," he says right after, giving him a little nod when Minho asks him if he'd like a cup of tea.

That's how they're spending their first moments together – with pensive sips of their warm tea, with eating cheesecake and listening to the calm music Minho turned on earlier. 

And when Jisung's finished and reaches for his tea again, Minho's heart starts beating faster just like earlier, figuring that it's time to really talk.

Not knowing how to start properly, he just turns to face Jisung, his ears growing embarrassingly red and warm.

"So.."

After putting down his mug, Jisung follows suit and turns sideways after shuffling off his shoes to get a little more comfortable.

Then he draws up his legs and wraps his arms around them, his chin resting on his knees to avert his gaze. He can't really look Minho in the eyes, worried about their talk turning into another fight.

His answer is barely a mumble.

"So.."

Minho takes a deep breath, ready to let his guards down.

It makes him feel nauseous, though, and he needs to remind himself that Jisung will stay, that he won't run away when things get hard because he's said, so many times, that he won't go anywhere, that he wants to help. Jisung deserves Minho's trust. 

Before he can change his mind, Minho decides to just blurt it out.

"I wanna be better, Hannie. I really, really want to try and not be such an idiot about accepting help. And I wanna trust you. Because the moment you were gone I realized that nothing is worse than not having you by my side."

Minho hears his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feels it moving his entire body because though those words hold nothing but truth inside, they're still so hard to say.

It's like he's stretching out his hand in hopes to have Jisung take it.

And he takes it.

Jisung cutely shuffles closer, not only figuratively but literally reaching out to hold Minho's hand.

Oh, how Minho missed the warm, silky touch of his skin.

"Hey," Jisung begins, the way he's tilting his head to get his attention making Minho aware of how he's staring at the flowers in front of him, of how much tension he is holding inside his body. "Look at me, Min."

Minho peels his gaze off of the table, nearly gasps when he has Jisung closer than expected.

He gets lost in his wonderful eyes that hold a gentleness in them that wasn't there a few moments ago.

"I'm so proud of you for telling me that, Min, that must've been hard," Jisung says, his palms enveloping his hand completely and reminding him of their first walk together, when Minho fell so easily, so irrevocably for this beautiful boy with the bright smile and warm hands.

The same smile that lights up Jisung's face now and tells Minho that they'll be alright. "You really have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that from you."

The next part he says with a slight tremble to his voice yet his smile is never faltering. "This all hurt me a lot but I cannot tell you how grateful I am to have you by my side...  you know, to have someone who can apologize and see me as someone worthy enough to try and do better and not make those mistakes again… I just didn't have that before."

Jisung talks through fresh tears, quickly wipes them away and tries to settle with a deep breath.

And Minho feels like he can see so much clearer now. He can't believe that he let his fears cloud over the purity of Jisung's soul, letting himself believe that he couldn't trust anybody anymore.

He takes the hand not inside Jisung's hold and gently cradles Jisung's face, brushes one thumb over his soft cheek to catch a falling tear. 

"I'm probably going to be really annoying and it won't be too easy with me when we're going to make this place popular again. I'm surely gonna whine a lot," Minho giggles, preening when Jisung joins him. "But I won't ever hurt you like that again, Hannie. I will cherish all your efforts and everything that you're doing for me, and I won't take you for granted ever again."

With a turn of his head, Jisung presses a small kiss to Minho's palm and shuffles even closer until he can throw his legs over Minho's lap and wrap his arms around his middle like he's done so many times before.

And it just feels right. 

"Sounds like we're going to be a great team."

Minho gives a quiet laugh at that, pulls him closer to his chest and just like that, they're slipping back into their happy bubble, feeling even safer than before, its bursting bubble skin now made out of solid glass. 

For a long while, they're just holding each other, basking in the knowledge of nothing standing in their way, not anymore.

They're listening to the soft sounds of Bon Iver and Minho is cradling Jisung to the music, slightly swaying from side to side, his lips pressing occasional kisses to the crown of his hair and curling into a smile when Jisung lets out soft little hums.

His tears have run dry a long time ago – only left is the rosy color of his cheeks from being held so close, from knowing that Minho is ready to fully commit to what they have and what they'll be in the future. 

A great team. 

Equals that support each other through thick and thin. 

Lovers, slowly growing into trusting each other fully to give their hearts into the hands of the other, knowing that they'll be kept safe, warm.

"Feel so good, Min," Jisung mumbles, readjusts a little and noses along Minho's neck, nestling against it to give it a small kiss. "Missed this so much."

Minho sighs long and content, his eyes fluttering close from feeling Jisung leaving traces of his comfort, his trust.

He's so relieved that those didn't get lost along the way of Minho getting his act together.

Small kisses and cuddles are still fine for Jisung, encouraged even, and Minho wants to thank him – for being so open with him right from the start, for letting him into his heart though he was still suffering the consequences of his past relationship.

So he asks a question that isn't an easy one for him – to show Jisung that he's not giving him false promises. 

"Do you wanna tell me what you wanted to show me, you know, two days ago?"

Jisung instantly grows tense inside his hold and Minho can feel the hesitation almost palpable around them. "You really don't have to do that, Min. Not sure if it was even a good idea to begin with," he says quietly. "I don't want to step on your toes."

Minho hurries to answer, staying adamant.

"It's okay, Hannie, I really want to know, and I don't think I have the right to feel patronized by a creative mind like you," Minho jokes, looks down at Jisung still hiding inside his chest to hook one finger underneath his chin and gently tilt up his head. "It was awful of me not to acknowledge all the work you must've put into what you wanted to show me. That was not okay."

A little smile makes its way onto Jisung's face upon hearing his words and he bats his eyelashes, his cheeks puffing up from his smile growing wider and wider, making it nearly impossible for Minho not to lean down and kiss his soft skin.

But he resists, encourages him instead.

"I'm all ears, Hannie."

Jisung is suddenly so full of drive as he sits upright to face Minho and have some more space to explain his vision properly.

"Okay, okay, please stop me in case I'm going overboard with my enthusiasm but yeah, the first thing I thought about what would be really helpful is... a great internet presence!!"

Jisung looks at him expectantly, waits almost comically for a reaction with sprawled out fingers and a frozen smile, but Minho is taken aback for a moment, needs some time to think.

So Jisung continues explaining, his demeanor quickly turning nervous as he's looking down at it his fingers fiddled together. "Nowadays that's something really important and easily promotable in social media and I mean, you know how much I love coding websites so that's what I did, and that's what I wanted to show you…"

Not wanting to leave Jisung with a bad feeling, Minho hurries to answer then, his expression colored surprised. "That sounds really cool, Hannie, but, well, haven't you seen? I already have a website!"

Jisung shrinks into himself even more and doesn't dare to look him in the eyes, his voice turning almost inaudible when he says, 

"But Min, that website isn't pretty at all…"

It has Minho blinking several times before answering Jisung's website slander.

"Well, it has all the important information in it!"

"Yeah, but that's not enough nowadays, it should look aesthetically pleasing too, you know?"

A long-drawn-out ohh sounds in between them and Minho has a moment of epiphany.

"Okay, maybe I really am an old man," Minho deadpans but it serves the right purpose of lightening the mood.

"It's normal to not really keep an eye on that, your forte is baking like a god," Jisung grins, gently brushes over Minho's red ears with his fingertips before turning a little more reserved. "But yeah, maybe I can show you the website, in the next few days, when you're ready."

Though Minho has to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants and thickly swallow a few times at the prospect of all this really happening, he wants to show Jisung that he's all in. "Yeah, let's do that."

And he reminds himself that it'll be okay, that Jisung wants to help him, and continues to do so.

So he makes a suggestion.

"Maybe tomorrow evening, at my place? Would you feel comfortable with that? I can prepare dinner for us because, you know, I can cook as godly as I can bake."

It has the desired effect of Jisung madly blushing and sheepishly nodding his head. "That sounds so nice, I'd love that."

They're simply smiling at each other, drinking in the sight of the other because they were deprived of it yesterday, because they didn't know if they could have that ever again. 

But now they're here, ready to take another crucial step together.

Cutting through their thoughts about how their evening will go, a new song begins to play and suddenly has all of Jisung's attention.

His eyes turn wide like saucers when he recognizes the song until a blissful expression of a soft smile and eyes closed shut comes into play.

"God, I love this song so much," he sighs before getting active again, a plan forming in his mind. "C'mon, let's get up!! Let's dance!!"

He scrambles to get up from Minho's lap to run into the middle of the bakery, stretching his arms out wide and spinning around to the first tunes of Everybody Wants To Rule The World.

And Minho immediately follows after him, energized by Jisung's enthusiasm.

When he reaches Jisung's spinning figure, he offers his hands to hold, and once their fingers are intertwined, they're dancing, read: just awkwardly moving to the music but with the brightest giggles filling the bakery to the brim.

They're moving their arms back and forth, swaying from side to side to the song's distinct beat and singing the lyrics from the top of their lungs because god, it's such a good song.

And at one point they're just letting go completely, until Jisung is mimicking an electric guitar with all he's got and Minho is close to putting the front singer to shame with his imaginary microphone and his passionate singing.

It doesn't take long until they're going back to holding hands and letting each other spin around before they're all dizzy and take a little break, all while giggling their hearts out.

They're all out of breath from this lovely back and forth, from this heart fluttering position they found themselves in – with Minho's hands on Jisung's waist and Jisung's arms slung around Minho's neck.

It feels like they're high school sweethearts, so wondrous of having found each other, giddy anticipation conquering their bodies from being sure of all the sweet shared moments soon to come.

One look out of fond eyes and they just know – how they're both looking forward to exploring their feelings together, now fully laid out in front of the other. 

Delighting in being so close, they're simply holding each other while slowly coming down from their high spirits, listening to the last bridge of the song with dreamy smiles on their faces.

Minho feels like floating, can't express how badly he enjoys experiencing these little big things with Jisung – he knows that he wants this forever, that he'd never grow tired of it.

As the last few tunes slowly fade away, he can't help but brush their cheeks together before hovering over the warm skin with his lips, still so cheerful, so confident from this much needed serotonin boost.

His next question is nothing more than a whisper.

"Can I...?"

The mood has changed so quickly it leaves Minho wanting and dizzy and so eager to kiss his skin, something he's come to love the moment he did it for the first time.

"Minho..."

Jisung's voice pulls him out of his trance, laced with the same want that Minho feels in every fiber of his being.

Forgotten is his soft cheek for a moment, when Minho pulls back and looks into a serious expression, into eyes so big and telling that Minho knows what comes next.

Words uttered all out of breath that make Minho's heart beat in a new kind of drum.

"You can kiss me for real."

Minho's breath catches and he searches for something in his eyes akin to hesitation, but all he can find is just pure, unadulterated determination. 

Jisung gives him a little smile and nods his head, his arms tightening around him.

And then he sighs, leans into Minho's touch when he places both of his palms on either of his cheeks, holding him gently.

Minho wants to savor this moment, wants to take his time because he's been waiting so long for this.

So he carefully touches their foreheads together, a quiet snicker escaping him when he feels Jisung already tilting up his head all eagerly.

Closing his eyes, he brushes against Jisung's lovely, soft nose with his own before settling and hovering right over his perfect mouth. He feels like dreaming, can't believe that this is really happening.

But Jisung's hot breath against him, shaky and quickening, makes him snap back to reality and oh, it's over with him.

After one more fluttering heartbeat, Minho finds the courage to tilt his head and kiss Jisung, for real, can't fathom that he finally does.

And he's never imagined his lips to feel this perfect.

Disarmed in every kind of way, Minho's eyebrows shoot up from how soft Jisung's lips feel, from how sweet he tastes.

Just like Jisung, he's been daydreaming sometimes, when his pout was extra visible and made him think about how perfectly it must fit against his own plump upper lip.

Minho can't help but find out now and leaves countless of small pecks on his bottom lip, delighting in Jisung's content hums before he dives in again, kissing him in earnest.

They're losing themselves in each other, in this long-yearned-for moment and this secureness, knowing that there's no doubt about this now – that they're each other's.

When they part, it's after a long while of lips perfectly slotting together, of fingers buried in hair and bodies pressed together, it's with a hazy mind and blissful smiles, with one last, sweet kiss connecting their lips before they stop to ogle at each other.

"Thank you for being my support, Hannie, thank you for forgiving me," Minho says and gently strokes over Jisung's hot cheeks, holding his soft round face in the palm of his hands to admire how pretty he is.

And Jisung just smiles at him, so giddy and bright, the last bit of reserve he must've had all this time vanished from their talk, from Minho finally breaking down his own walls that he built up so high. 

It won't be their last talk about all this, and before them lies a rocky road, a lot of challenges they'll have to face together.

But that'll be an issue for future them.

For now, they're just Jisung and Minho, no more, no less, relishing this new level of comfort, knowing that together they'll be alright.

As insatiable as Minho himself, Jisung leans in and steals another kiss, careful and soft, and Minho thinks that right now, in that very second, he's the happiest man alive.

How Jisung ogles at him afterwards, with this rapturous expression that mirrors his own feelings so well, makes Minho realize that he may share this special title with him.

But he doesn't mind, not at all.

Minho loves seeing this raw, unfiltered happiness blooming on Jisung's face, loves to see how much he enjoys saying the words he's probably wanted to say the very first moment he's decided to help Minho keep his dream.

And the way he says them, so gently and yet with such resolute, makes Minho look forward to the future.

It's been so long.

"Thank you for letting me in."