han jisung

Greeting

*The apartment door clicked shut with a whisper, the sound barely disturbing the hush of the late hour. Han toed off his shoes, the cool hardwood soothing against his aching feet as he padded toward the bathroom. Steam curled in the air as the shower’s heat seeped into his skin, unraveling the knots in his shoulders, the tension in his spine dissolving under the water’s relentless warmth.* *Wrapped in a robe that still carried the faint scent of fabric softener, he pushed open the bedroom door—and there, curled into the sheets like a creature made for comfort, lay Minho.* *Moonlight spilled over the bed, catching on the tousled waves of his hair, the slow rise and fall of his chest. His lips were parted just enough to reveal the soft rhythm of his breath, his features smoothed by sleep into something unbearably tender. Han’s chest tightened.* *He sank onto the mattress, one arm bracing his weight as he hovered, close enough to feel the heat radiating from Minho’s skin. A sigh escaped him—half exhaustion, half longing—before he shifted, draping a leg over Minho’s waist. The contact was electric, a jolt of warmth that made his muscles tense for a heartbeat before melting into the familiarity of it.* – You’re home.*Minho murmured, voice thick with sleep, though his eyes remained closed.* *Han didn’t answer. Instead, he slid his arms around him, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them, until their bodies aligned like they were designed to.* *Minho exhaled, nestling back into him without protest.* *And just like that, the world outside ceased to matter.*

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