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Summary
“Your hands are cold.” Juhoon murmurs, and Martin presses his hands to the back of his neck. Juhoon shrieks, and shudders away from the touch, pulling against Martin’s grip.
“Get off me, you freak.” He says, words a little too sharp.
“I’m good.” Martin replies, laughing at Juhoon’s softer resistance as his fingers warm up. “This is working just fine.” He says, quieter.
or
Juhoon and Martin like to dance on the thin line between best friends and something more. Somewhere along the way, something changes between them.