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Summary
There was the soft thud of the door closing. The sound of a coat hooked onto the hanger. Footsteps drawing closer, until Mingi's back was pressed against that familiar chest.
A mixture of smoke and antiseptic invaded his nostrils; the man's arms traced their way around him as if they'd been there all along. No words, just that slow, heavy breath down against his nape—and Mingi knew, Yunho was carrying another case too heavy for a man's shoulders again.
"Are you tired?" Mingi whispered, his voice soft but unable to hide the worry beneath it.
Yunho didn't answer. Instead, he buried his head in the crook of Mingi's neck to inhale a deep breath, as if using his scent to wash off the smell of dust clinging to him. He replied eventually, although the answer had nothing to do with the question. "I missed you."