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Summary
“No, Jisung. I love you,” Minho repeated, a hint of desperation in his voice. Jisung stared at him, processing for a few seconds before it hit him.
Oh.
Jisung blinked harshly a few times, wondering if he’d fallen asleep and hadn’t realized it. But then Minho finally turned to look at him, the first rays of morning light hitting his face just right so that Jisung could see the way his red eyes were blown open wide. Like he couldn’t believe he said it, like he hoped Jisung hadn’t heard him, and Jisung realized he had, in fact, said it.
Jisung wished he hadn’t. Jisung loved that he had. Jisung wished he’d said it earlier.
Jisung wished he hadn’t said it.
