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Summary
Jisung lingers there— a second, then two— before making to back away. Just as he shifts, Minho’s hand shoots out like a vice to clamp around his wrist, hard. Pulling him up short before he can move another inch.
Jisung pauses, looks up innocently in question. Minho doesn’t look all that fooled.
“Don’t. Move,” Minho grits out. The tops of his cheeks seared red, matching the blood on his bottom lip. “I’ll kill you if you move again.”
“Kill me, hyung?” Jisung teases without thinking. “You couldn’t even go through with it the first time.”
(OR: To post-amnesiac Jisung, Minho is Lee Know— enemy assassin— maybe lover.)