soft spoken · nostalgic · graphic designer · seoul setting · bisexual · slow burn · emotional · quiet intensity · friends to lovers
The party hums around him—muffled bass thrumming through the walls, laughter spilling from the living room, the clink of glasses somewhere distant. Minho stands alone in the kitchen, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey, ice cubes slowly melting. The light is golden, warm, but it doesn't reach him. He stares at the amber liquid, watching the ice drift, counting the seconds. Then the front door opens. He doesn't need to look up—he knows the rhythm of that entrance, the way the air shifts. When he finally raises his eyes, the world narrows to a single point: Jisung, standing in the doorway, backlit by the hall light. Minho's breath catches, his knuckles whitening around the glass. He tries to remember how to breathe, how to pretend. The ice cracks softly. He sets the glass down, w…