“Jisung!”
Jisung jumped, causing the pan he was holding to wobble and spill food all over the stove. “Damn, Minho!” he hissed, setting the pan aside to try and clean the mess before it burned.
Minho stood braced in the entrance of the kitchen, eyes wide and hair wild. “You- I thought you left, I thought you were gone!”
I should be, but apparently I’m stupid so I’m still here.
“I decided this place isn’t so bad,” he answered instead, scraping the bad food into a trash can. “I hope you’re hungry, I’ve made plenty of food.” Jisung finally met the eyes staring at him.
Minho was statue still. “You stayed?”
Jisung raised an eyebrow down at himself. “I think so?”
“You had the chance to run and you… didn’t take it?”
“I…” Jisung fought a mini, internal battle. “I couldn’t.”
Minho blinked several times and shoved his hand into his hair, processing everything. Then he seemed to refocus. “Wait, your body literally stopped working, what the hell are you doing on your feet?”
Jisung flinched awkwardly as he resumed cooking. “I’m okay, Minho. I got a little dizzy in the shower, but I’m really fine.”
“‘I’m fine’ says the dead man.” Minho strode across the kitchen and took the pan from Jisung. “I’m putting you back on bed rest.”
Jisung straightened up defensively. “No. I’ve been up and moving for twelve hours now, I think I’m just fine.”
Minho’s brow creased and he glanced out the windows lit with evening sun, then back at Jisung. “How long?”
“Twelve hours.”
His eyes widened. “How long was I asleep?!”
“Since I first woke up and unhooked myself, about fourteen hours.” Jisung took the pan back. “You needed it, don’t look so shocked.”
“You didn’t kill me or escape.”
“Death changes a person.” Jisung smirked at his own joke and turned the stove off.
“I’m calling Soo. She needs to make sure you’re really okay, and if you’re not, we’re hooking you back up to those machines and waiting for your full recovery.” Minho made to leave the kitchen.
Jisung caught his sleeve. “You can do that after we eat. I’m not letting the food get cold until we’ve both had our fill.” He motioned to the small table at the far end of the kitchen, which was nestled in a rounded corner of windows. “Sit.”
Minho stared at the man now plating the food. “Who are you? Where’s bratty Jisung?”
“I’m not bratty.”
“Yes you are.”
“You sound like a twelve year-old.”
Minho’s smile was slowly growing. “You did say I flirt like one, so I guess I’m at least consistent.”
Jisung pointed at him with the spoon, dripping sauce onto the counter. “That doesn’t mean you can call me bratty. What a childish insult.”
“Who said we were talking about it in childish terms?”
The words died on Jisung’s tongue as his mouth dropped open. Minho’s tone and expression were far beyond suggestive. “Get your mind out of the gutter before Seungmin spawns and makes this awkward.”
“Oh, Seungmin won’t save you this time, Jisung,” Minho hummed lowly, stepping closer as his smile morphed into a devious smirk. “He’s on vacation.”
Jisung stepped back to make up for the steps Minho was taking toward him. “I didn’t realize you were such a pervert,” he teased, moving around the other side of the kitchen island.
“You’ve called me creepy multiple times, I think you’ve known this whole time,” Minho argued, stalking after him.
“Well perverts deserve to have their bits chopped, so I can have that arranged for you.”
Minho burst out laughing, bending forward slightly. “Did you just say ‘bits’?”
Jisung giggled. “Would you prefer it if I used official terms?”
“I honestly don’t know which one is better or worse,” Minho breathed through his laughter.
Rolling his eyes playfully, Jisung moved back over to finish dishing up the food. “You are a strange man, Mr. Lee.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“The evidence is stacked against you.”
Minho shook his head, finally sitting down at the table. “Thank you for cooking. I should be taking care of you right now, not the other way around.”
“Stop rejecting care, Minho,” Jisung gently scolded, bringing the plates over.
“Again, your body gave up on life. You need care right now,” Minho said seriously, watching Jisung take a seat across from him. “I know our bodies are conditioned to withstand a lot, but death is kind of a big deal. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”
“I know. I just…” Jisung hesitated, poking at his food with his fork. “I feel useless. I’ve felt useless for weeks now. I’ve been feeling so trapped, like I’ve been locked away in a prison in my own mind. My body hates me right now, but my mind hates me even more.”
Minho’s gaze softened significantly, shaded with guilt. “I’m sorry, Jisung. You have every right to hate me, and I’m frankly a bit concerned that you don’t. I’m no better than Chim-” he froze.
“Chimera. I know,” Jisung finished. He couldn’t stop the genuine smile that grew on his lips. “A memory came back to me. I didn’t dream, I remembered. It was the day we met. When I only knew you as ML-32. You were a bit more gangly then.”
Unfiltered joy radiated from Minho, warming the air around them. “An actual memory? Oh, you have no idea how good it is to hear that.”
“You’re grinning so wide, you might crack your face. I think I have an idea.”
Minho released a short, breathy laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. And did you say I was… gangly?” Jisung nodded in confirmation. “Well, you were cuter then.”
Jisung gasped. “What do you mean?! Take that back, I’m still cute!”
“The food is getting cold.” Minho dug in, taking a huge bite to avoid responding further.
“I bet Seungmin would say I’m still cute,” Jisung grumbled as he started eating as well.
“I’ve never heard an adult get so worked up over not being called cute.”
“What is an adult, really? We’re all just people trying not to die.”
“Let’s not get existential over this delicious dinner.”
“You’re no fun.”
Minho’s eyebrow twitched. “You’re the brat.”
Jisung set his fork on his plate loudly. “This again?”
“I just proved you wrong. I am fun because it’s fun to tease you. You’re the one putting a damper on things since you can’t seem to loosen up.”
A unique chill danced down Jisung’s spine and into his legs at the look Minho gave him. He couldn’t quite name his expression, but the challenge in his eyes was clear. Sleep deprived Minho is overly flirtatious. Noted.
Jisung decided to test something. He leaned across the table, his eyes glued to Minho’s. “I can’t loosen up, you say?” he asked, his voice low and smooth. “Are you wanting me to prove you wrong?”
Minho had gone still, watching like a hawk as Jisung steadily leaned further, now standing with his hands braced on the table. “Maybe,” was his only breathless response.
The smirk was prominent on Jisung’s face and his eyes flickered down to Minho’s lips. The other was looking at his lips as well. “And you also say I’m a brat?”
“Uh, huh,” came the distracted whisper.
Their faces were barely an inch apart when Jisung stopped. “Then a brat I’ll be,” he whispered. He stepped back, grabbing his plate before sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island.
Minho released a sharp breath, his cheeks a shade darker. “You’re truly devious, Han Jisung.”
“Don’t start arguments you can’t win,” Jisung warned. He continued eating his dinner.
“Don’t think we’re done with this discussion.”
“Finish your food, Minho.”
Jisung tried to ignore the fact his heart was jumping erratically in his chest and that his hands were a little jittery. Being that close to Minho was dangerous. He nearly got caught up in the moment, and he knew he couldn’t do that. He just started trusting the man, for heaven’s sake. Maybe I’m the pervert, not Minho.
The pair finished their respective meals quietly as they mentally argued with their inner selves.
⧫⧫⧫
Fortunately, Soo assured it wasn’t necessary to put Jisung back on the machines, though she was unhappy that he unhooked himself so recklessly. He felt like a guilty puppy when she scolded him for it.
Unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, he wasn’t back to full strength. She gave him some medication to help his body catch up in recovery and ordered him to take it easy for the next two weeks. Getting fresh air was highly recommended, but so was sitting in bed.
Jisung relaxed for the rest of the evening while Minho cleaned the mess he made in the kitchen. It started raining again, and he watched it run down the windows.
Nightfield was on his mind tonight. Jisung and Changbin loved rainy nights. If they didn’t have any jobs or assignments, they would go on a drive just to enjoy the smell and the soothing sound of falling water. Once in a while Felix and Chan would join them, and they’d eventually find a park to take a stroll. Chan would always end up scolding the other three when they ran through every puddle they could find. Then he’d end up joining them anyway and buying hot drinks afterward.
Jisung couldn’t help wondering what Changbin was doing. Was he off enjoying the rain with the others? Or was he sitting somewhere thinking of his best friend? Or was he pretending he was in a dramatic movie as he completed a mission? The thought made Jisung smile.
He thought about Chan. Was he okay? Did the Kingfisher plan go well? Was he getting enough sleep? Was Nightfield falling apart without Jisung there to help? He wanted to know everything. Had Felix’s sprained wrist healed well? Did he figure out what was wrong with his new surveillance system?
“What’s on your mind?” Minho asked, sinking into the opposite end of the couch.
“Oh, um.” Was he allowed to say this? “I was thinking of Nightfield. I miss them. A lot, actually,” he murmured the last part. “We love nights like this.”
Minho propped his feet on the cushions between them. “They really mean a lot to you don’t they?”
Jisung nodded. “They took me in when I had nothing. Chan, Changbin, and Felix really took care of me the most. They’re my family.” He rubbed at his chest, trying to get rid of the tightness growing there. He was scared to ask his next question. “Can I see them?”
Tension spread through Minho’s shoulders. “Jisung-“
“Minho,” Jisung interrupted, sitting up, “in staying here willingly, I have given you my trust. But trust is a bridge. If one end crumbles, the whole thing falls apart. I’m- I’m asking for your trust in return.”
Silence stretched through the room, in turn squeezing Jisung’s heart.
“I trust you. What do you need me to do?”
Hope brightened Jisung’s body. “I’ll stay here with you as you want, but I want the chance to visit my friends. Maybe once a week. Until this all… blows over.”
Minho thought for a long moment. “Alright, but they can’t come here. Only some of my members know where I am located. A meeting place can be determined in advance.”
“Thank you.”
“On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“Seungmin has to come with you the first few times, and he’ll be your driver every time. For safety, not because I think you’ll run off.”
Jisung beamed. “That’s doable.”
Minho returned the smile. “I’ll make sure to set up that first meeting as soon as I can, okay?”
“That means a lot.”
It was quiet for a drawn out time, the sound of rain filling the space. It was comfortable, sitting in each other’s presence.
“You said you might know who has it out for me,” Jisung spoke up, suddenly remembering their earlier conversation. “Who is it?”
Minho’s eyes darkened. “Chimera. They might know that I have you.”
“Well… shit.”
“Shit is right. I’ve had them chasing their tail when it comes to me, but they’re experts at adapting. Their bloodhounds have no doubt sniffed this out. I didn’t exactly keep you a secret.”
Jisung thought it over. “Why didn’t they kill me the whole time I was in Nightfield?”
Minho shrugged. “You weren’t a threat without your memories. But they changed their minds at some point, so I came to get you from Nightfield. I don’t know why they’re after you now, but I’m guessing they’re either cleaning up their mess or trying to bring you back into the program.”
“From what I remember about Hyeon, it’s probably the latter. I only just recalled his face because it was always blurry in the dreams. I wish it was still a blur to me.”
Minho snorted. “That man will forever haunt my dreams.”
Jisung stretched, letting out a groan as his sore muscles responded stiffly. “Hopefully not tonight. I’m beat. Dying really takes it out of you.”
“The death jokes are never going to end, are they?” Minho asked, popping to his feet and offering a hand to him.
Jisung accepted it and he was pulled to his feet, a little too fast. He fell against Minho, barely catching himself on his arms. “You don’t need to throw me,” he joked, cringing at the thought of Minho somehow turning that statement into something dirty.
“Sorry, you’re a little lighter than I was expecting,” Minho apologized instead, setting him rightfully on his feet. “The guest bedroom isn’t ready yet since I didn’t know if you would actually wake up, so you can just use my room again. I can take the couch.”
“If you want to take the couch, I guess you could, but we’ve shared a bed multiple times now,” Jisung pointed out playfully. “I think it’s okay. Besides, you’re warm.”
Minho smiled as they made their way to the huge staircase leading up to the second and third floors. “Am I really just a heater to you?”
“Pretty much.”
“Brat.”
Jisung stuck his tongue out.
——————— As I’ve been reading through this before popping it up on here, I’ve realized… I have several scenes I want to add to the book. So yay for that. ya’ll won’t tell a difference, but I just like to be lazy and imagine things, not write it down lol.
Also I’m sure you’ll notice, it rains and storms a lot in this book and that’s just cause I love rainy weather, so deal with it lol. Thanks for reading. [‘^’]
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