To be afraid of love, or to be afraid of trusting someone so completely?
Or, Minho is afraid to be loved and Jisung is terrified to trust anyone ever again. Somehow, they end up fixing each other in secret, until everything spills over and they can...
There is non-explicit sexual content in this chapter, please do not read any further if this topic is sensitive to you.
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"What is this even about?" Han questions quietly, head leaning on Minho's shoulder, eyes focused on a movie that he could hardly grasp the concept of.
"It's a horror movie, Ji. Killer stalks people, people get murdered, blah blah." Minho had practically been begging Han to watch some sort of horror movie, and to his surprise, Han actually agreed.
"But why is the killer doing this?"
"Just watch the movie." Minho leaned comfortably into his couch, arms folded with his phone resting on his left thigh. Han was to his right, head pressed to his shoulder gently.
"But I have to know," Han whines, almost unable to focus on the plot of the movie as the screen renders uselessly in his brain.
He understood that it was a scary movie about some psycho killer, but he wanted to know the backstory and the precedent for killing these people. There had to be some sort of saga-like lifestory to this killer, otherwise, what was the point?
"Shh, Ji." Minho tries to soothe Han as they attempt to sit on the couch and soak in the movie's plot, but Han sighs. Minho looks over to him, watching Han's eyes focus on the movie, but he seemed so disinterested. "Do you really not want to watch it?"
"No, I do!" Han's voice trails into a mumble, hands touching one another in a nervous tick. "I just don't understand it."
"We can watch something else." Minho's voice soothes Han's sudden discomfort about the idea of switching, but Han still says no. Minho watches Han shift slightly, hands tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie with the intent of focusing, but his mind won't stop hounding him. Minho knew he felt bad for complaining, but Minho really didn't mind. He was just happy Han spoke up at all.
"Here," Minho unfolds his arms, hand falling to his thigh with his palm facing up. This was the same invitation Han found so much comfort in, one he grew to love openly. Han never admitted he was into physical affection, but something about Minho wanting to touch him made his heart race.
Han takes Minho's hand in his without hesitating, feeling Minho's fingers tangle with his own. Han wants to lean closer into Minho's warmth, but suddenly snaps back into his own anxious mind.
This was a lot of touching. A lot of closeness, a lot of warmth; all things Han loves but stirs his mind into attachment issues. He knew he was overly fond of Minho at this point, but he did his best to avoid feeling so needy towards him.
But now best friend-less and nearly homeless, Minho was all he had. His heart was fragile, but it wanted to be loved so, so badly. He wanted someone to love him, and if that someone was Minho, that was okay too. Minho was unknowingly kind and so considerate, something about the way he treated Han made him feel like he was the only person in Minho's universe.
