Kay888
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Summary
"It's... fuck, Hyunjin, I'm old enough to be your dad."
Hyunjin grinned, and his eyes flashed as bright as the silver ring in his lip. "So?"
OR: Chan is old. Hyunjin doesn't care.
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“There we go,” Changbin said.
Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He smiled widely. “You’re cuter when you’re not trying to bite.”
A flush spread across his cheeks. Cute? What the fuck?
“Fuck—fuck off.”
“Like a puppy without training.”
He was lost for words, completely embarrassed, not even knowing what to say. Was he calling him a dog? What an asshole.
or Seungmin is intrigued by the smart guy on the wrestling team
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Minho’s smile softened into a small frown. “The doctor said you’ve lost a few months of your memory, and that this can happen with a severe head injury.”
Jisung squeezed his eyes shut. “This is insane. So I just have months of memories I can’t remember? And not to mention, I can’t even remember how I got here in the first place? And no one wants to tell me?”
The stress was getting to him, and Minho quickly rubbed a gentle thumb over his wrist.
“I know, baby. I know it’s frustrating. But the doctor said you have to remember on your own.”
Or Jisung wakes up in the hospital from a coma with no memory of how he got there, or why his friends and his boyfriend of six years, Minho, won’t tell him what happened
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“Because that's us Minho, you and me. Out there in the danger zone, caught in each other's slipstream. You're unbreakable, I'm unstoppable, and we’ve hurtled towards each other in duel velocity…. We’re both unmovable, but you and me together? We’re indestructible, baby.”
Or,
When Minho’s friend, teammate and mentor, Eunwoo surprises everyone with his spontaneous retirement announcement, his world is thrown into disarray. Especially with the arrival of wildcard rookie, a complete unknown in the world of racing, Jisung. He’s arrogant—bratty—gorgeous, and Minho’s worst nightmare. Whose position on the team is secured only by his wealthy father’s investment offer of a sponsorship deal, saving their financial crisis. Driving fast cars comes easy for Minho, but controlling his pulse when sexual tension erupts with his new teammate is a whole different game…
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He tries to hold on. He really does.
He tells himself it’s just affection. Easy, absent-minded, chaste. Just habit. Just Jisung being Jisung: too tactile, too fond, too unafraid of closeness. He keeps his eyes on the pan, keeps his shoulders steady, keeps breathing like nothing more is happening or needs to happen at all.
Like nothing monumental took place barely a few hours ago. Like a metaphorical elephant didn’t take residence on his sternum and made every breath since feel borrowed, thin, edged with want.
The pepero game ends onstage. The wanting doesn’t, it follows him home.
All day he holds himself back, until he can't anymore.