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Minho usually didn’t have time for things like this. Picking up children from kindergarten was something chauffeurs and nannies were for, not CEOs with stacked calendars and meetings that bled into dinner hours. Because that’s how he had grown up.
But today was different.
His only cousin Chaeyeon, CFO of his company and one of the only people he’d ever indulge without a fight, had come to him just before her meeting with a foreign client. “Minho! Jaemin has a fever. The school called. I can’t leave the office. Please! Can you pick him up from school? Jaemin’s dad is still in a surgery!”
Minho didn’t even think before saying yes. Little Jaemin was his nephew, the spoiled heir apparent in their family’s eyes. Jaemin’s dad is one of the top surgeons in the country. He is just as busy as his mom. Besides, what kind of uncle would he be if he let the kid sit in a nurse’s office with flushed cheeks and no one to pick him up?
So, Minho arrived at the kindergarten gates in a sleek black sedan, the kind of car that looked comically out of place next to tiny bicycles and pastel-painted fences. His tailored Gucci suit was a statement all on its own, sharply pressed, dark, and far too expensive for the sticky-fingered chaos of a kindergarten.
He got escorted in by the school’s security guard, who clearly knew he was here for a reason; Minho wasn’t the type of man who showed up in a kindergarten lobby for fun. The guard led him down a corridor lined with colorful drawings–scribbled suns with uneven rays, stick-figure families, and a lopsided cat that looked more like a potato with whiskers.
Minho’s lips twitched. Children’s art was chaotic, but oddly refreshing. The security guard walked a few steps ahead and knocked on a door.
Minho was in front of the door of a classroom as it opened from the inside.
And that was when it happened.
A tall, lanky man with soft brown hair and paint-splattered hands barreled out, balancing a tray of plastic paint cups. His foot caught on the doorframe, and in a cinematic disaster, the tray tilted forward and cold, murky water splashed directly down Minho’s chest. Minho’s hands reached out to balance the lanky man in front of him before he fell down completely. His hands tightly held the man’s shoulders.
The world froze for two seconds. Once the man–Teacher–balanced himself, Minho took his hands away from the teacher's shoulders. Minho blinked down at his now-ruined Gucci suit, dark fabric dripping with streaks of watercolor paint, while the man in front of him let out a strangled squeak.
“Oh my god–oh my god–I’m so sorry!” the teacher yelped, nearly dropping the tray in his rush to set it down. He fumbled for tissues from his pocket, then realized they were crumpled and useless. Panicked, he spun back into the classroom and reappeared seconds later with a small towel–one clearly meant for toddlers.
Minho just stood there, watching this whirlwind of chaos press a damp towel against his chest like he was a stain on the carpet.
“Please don’t move–it’ll come out, I swear, it’s just paint water–oh no, it’s Gucci isn’t it? Oh god, I’m dead, you’re going to kill me–please don’t sue the school, it’s my fault–oh no, oh no, oh no–”
Minho raised an eyebrow. The man’s voice was high-pitched with panic, his words spilling faster than he could breathe. He was tall, elegant in an unpolished way, but right now looked like a startled deer armed with a towel and desperation.
“Are you finished?” Minho asked dryly, catching the towel before the man could grind the paint deeper into the fabric.
The teacher–because who else could he be?--froze. His big pretty eyes blinked at Minho, then widened even more. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Um. I should. I should stop panicking.” He gave a sheepish laugh that immediately morphed back into a wince. “But your suit–oh my god, your suit is ruined.”
Minho glanced down. Yes, it was ruined. Paint stains spread like ugly bruises across his jacket. Normally, that would have sent his temper flaring–this suit cost more than most people made in a month.
But for some reason, he wasn’t angry.
Maybe it was the way this teacher was hovering, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and genuinely distressed. Maybe it was because Minho hadn’t been this entertained in weeks.
Or maybe the man in front of him is the most beautiful man he ever laid his eyes upon.
“I’ll pay for it,” the teacher blurted, clutching the towel like a shield. “I promise, I’ll pay every cent. Just, um, give me the bill? Oh god, Gucci bills are terrifying, aren’t they? I’ll probably have to sell my soul.”
Minho’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “And what would your soul be worth?”
The teacher blinked, clearly thrown. “…I’m not sure, but probably less than your tie.”
For the first time that day, Minho laughed. A real laugh, low and unexpected, slipping past the polished CEO mask he wore daily.
The teacher brightened for half a second, then immediately flustered again. “Wait–you’re laughing. That’s good, right? You’re not going to blacklist me from all schools in the area or something. Because if I get banned, I’ll probably have to get an office job. I’m going to be stuck at the office desk forever. Because rich parents do that.”
Minho shook his head, amused. “Relax. I’m not going to sue you and I’m not a rich parent.” He finally extended a hand. “Lee Minho. An uncle actually.”
The teacher hesitated, then shook his hand nervously, paint smudges staining Minho’s fingers. “Hwang Hyunjin. Kindergarten teacher. Professional disaster. I mean–teacher. Just teacher.”
Minho let the corner of his mouth lift again. “Professional disaster suits you.”
Hyunjin groaned, covering his face. “This is the worst day of my life.”
Before Minho could reply, a small voice piped up from the hallway. “Uncle Minho?”
Minho glanced past Hyunjin to see Jaemin, pale and droopy-eyed, clutching his tiny backpack. The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. He was with the security guard and another teacher who is probably in her late 40s.
“Jaemin.” Minho crouched, ignoring the dripping suit. “Feeling sick?”
The child nodded pitifully. Hyunjin’s worried expression softened.
The other teacher came near to them as she said “He had a mild fever earlier. I already called his mom. He should rest at home. She said she couldn't come and send his uncle. that must be you. Also are you okay? Teacher Hwang what happened?”
“Teacher Ahn! I tripped. Don’t worry about it.” Hyunjin smiled so fake that everyone around could feel it.
Minho nodded, rising to his full height. He adjusted his ruined jacket and smiled at the teacher. “We are fine, teacher. I’ll take Jaemin home now.”
Then Jaemin’s teacher made him sign some papers in clipboard before saying goodbye and leave Minho, Jaemin and Hyunjin alone in the hallway.
“Well,” he paused deliberately, watching the teacher fidget “you still owe me.”
Hyunjin froze. “Owe you?” Then looked at his ruined suit before pouting so pretty.
Minho pulled out his phone, handing it over. “Your number. For the suit bill.”
Hyunjin’s hands shook as he typed, accidentally adding an extra digit, then hastily correcting it. “I swear I’ll pay. Please don’t.. don’t like, send debt collectors or something. I’m really good at budgeting, but maybe not Gucci-budget good–”
Minho cut him off with a raised eyebrow. “Debt collectors? Dramatic, aren’t you?”
Hyunjin flushed. “Sorry. I panic when I’m nervous.”
Minho tucked his phone away, picked up Jaemin’s bag, and took the boy’s hand. He was halfway about to turn to leave when he stopped, glancing back at the frazzled teacher still wringing the toddler towel in his hands.
“You can pay me back,” Minho said smoothly, “by going on a date with me. Well I didn't see a wedding ring in your hand so.”
Hyunjin dropped the towel. Literally dropped it. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again like a fish gasping for air. “D-date? I’m single as a pringle but what?”
Minho’s smirk deepened. “Yes. Dinner. Or are you going to say no after ruining my suit?”
Hyunjin’s ears turned bright red. “I–I–yes! I mean, okay! Can I choose a place?” Minho nodded.
“Okay then–don’t expect Gucci-level food, okay?”
Minho chuckled, amused by how easy it was to fluster him. “We’ll see.”
With that, Minho took Jaemin’s small hand in his, paint water dripping steadily down his expensive sleeve and walked down the hallway.
And for the first time in a very long while, Minho found himself looking forward to something that wasn’t a business deal. He couldn't stop smiling on the way back.
—
Lee Minho had dated before. He wasn’t a monk. His past relationships had always followed the same script: expensive restaurants with menus that needed translation guides, champagne flutes that cost more than the champagne itself, and company who cared more about his status than his laugh.
So when he walked into the small, modern Italian restaurant Hyunjin had chosen–a place tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop–he already knew this wasn’t going to be like his usual dates.
But he hadn’t expected this even if Hyunjin warned him through the texts.
Hyunjin was already waiting by the entrance, fiddling with his phone, glancing nervously at the front parking lot every few seconds. The Hyunjin Minho remembered from kindergarten–flustered, panicked, wearing an apron and a grandpa sweater–was still vivid in his memory. That Hyunjin was cute and the most beautiful man he had ever seen.
The Hyunjin standing here tonight was something else entirely.
Beige pants fitted neatly around long legs, a white tank top tucked in, layered with a soft brown jacket. Boots, casual but stylish. Shoulder-length black hair fell neatly around his face, framing sharp features that belonged on a magazine cover.
Minho’s first thought was ‘Oh!’
His second was ‘He’s trouble.’
“Hi,” Hyunjin said, finally spotting him. His voice was soft, shy, like he still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to this. “Um.. you found it okay?”
Minho adjusted his black jacket, the one thrown casually over his white tank top and jeans. Funny-+without planning, they looked almost like a matching set. He smirked. “I did. Though I was expecting candlelight, a private room, maybe a bottle of overpriced wine.”
Hyunjin blinked. “Oh.. uh, they have wine here. I think. The candlelight part, maybe not.” He bit his lip, fidgeting. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you meant, like, fancy-fancy when you texted. I love this place.”
Minho studied him for a beat. The faint panic was back in his eyes, and for some reason, Minho found himself wanting to smooth it away. “Relax. I like this better.”
That earned him a small, relieved smile.
Inside, the restaurant was cozy–warm lights strung above, shelves of wine bottles along the walls, couples chatting over steaming pasta bowls. It smelled of garlic, herbs, and baked bread, and Minho’s stomach gave a quiet reminder that he’d skipped lunch for a board meeting.
They were seated in a booth near the window, menus handed over. Hyunjin immediately hid behind his, scanning with the intensity of someone studying for an exam.
“You can put the menu down,” Minho teased. “You’re not going to be graded.”
Hyunjin peeked over the top. “Easy for you to say. You probably already know what all these dishes are. I’ve eaten like 2 or 3 dishes here.”
“I’ve eaten my share of Italian,” Minho admitted. “But you pick. I’m curious.”
Hyunjin groaned. “That’s too much pressure.”
“Consider it your punishment for ruining my Gucci suit.”
Hyunjin gave him a scandalized look before laughing, shoulders shaking. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“No,” Minho said simply, leaning back with a smug grin.
“Then I will order what I know.” Hyunjin waved at a waiter and ordered with a shy smile on face. Once the waiter left they fell into small talks.
Dinner came quickly. A steaming bowl of pasta carbonara for Hyunjin and seafood risotto for Minho, along with a basket of garlic bread. Hyunjin immediately tore into the bread like a starving student, cheeks puffing as he chewed.
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?”
“Starving. You have no idea how much energy it takes to chase thirty-five-year-olds around all day.”
Minho nearly choked on his risotto. “Thirty-five year-olds?”
Hyunjin froze, bread halfway to his mouth. “..I meant five-year-old thirty toddlers. Definitely not thirty-five. Oh my god, that sounded so wrong–please forget I said that.”
Minho was laughing now, real laughter spilling out in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Hyunjin dropped his face into his hands, muffling a groan. “This is why I don’t date at all. I’m a walking disaster in front of hot people.”
“Good thing I like disasters, Thank you for calling me hot.” Minho said smoothly.
Hyunjin groaned into his hands before peeking at him through his fingers, cheeks red, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.
“Well. You are hot!”
As dinner went on, conversation flowed more easily. Hyunjin told him about university–majoring in education, juggling part-time jobs, the joy and chaos of kindergarten teaching. He spoke with his hands animated, eyes shining when he described how one of the students had once declared that dinosaurs could beat up superheroes.
Minho found himself.. charmed. Against his will, almost. He shared his own story–business school, climbing through the company ranks, the unglamorous grind behind the glamorous title. Hyunjin listened intently, nodding, occasionally interrupting with questions that were surprisingly sharp.
By the time dessert arrived–a slice of tiramisu they decided to share–Minho realized he hadn’t looked at his phone once. That never happened.
Hyunjin took the first bite and immediately closed his eyes with a sigh. “Oh, this is heaven.”
Minho smirked. “You are such a cutie.”
“Minho! Stop it. Try this,” Hyunjin challenged–cheeks pink–pushing the fork toward him.
He did–and okay, maybe it was heaven. Or maybe it was the way Hyunjin was watching him, eyes crinkled in a smile, waiting for his verdict like it actually mattered.
When the bill arrived, Minho reached for it automatically. But Hyunjin was faster, snatching it with surprising speed.
“I’ll pay my half,” Hyunjin declared firmly.
Minho arched his eyebrow. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Hyunjin set his jaw. “I know you’re used to paying for everything, but I asked for this place. And I don’t want to feel like I’m freeloading just because you’re.. you know.” He gestured vaguely at Minho, as if CEO aura was a tangible thing.
Minho studied him for a moment, then leaned back, conceding. “Fine. Half it is.”
Hyunjin blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Really?”
“Really. But only because you look like you’ll fight me otherwise.”
“I would,” Hyunjin said seriously, sliding his card to the waiter. “You can send me your half to Apple Pay.”
Minho chuckled, shaking his head. Charming, indeed. “I will, Princess.” Hyunjin froze for the nickname before getting even redder ears.
They left the restaurant into the cool night air. For a moment, they just stood there, neither quite ready to say goodbye.
“So,” Minho began, hands in his pockets. “I had a good time.”
Hyunjin glanced up at him, shy but hopeful. “Me too.”
There was a beat of silence. Normally, Minho would be the one to suggest another date, to set the terms, to lead. But before he could open his mouth–
“Would you–maybe–want to do this again?” Hyunjin blurted, words tripping over each other. “Like.. a second date? If you’re not too busy being a CEO, I mean.”
Minho blinked. Then smiled, slow and genuine. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Hyunjin flushed, grinning despite himself. “Then I guess it’s settled.”
As Minho walked him to Hyunjin’s car, he realized something he hadn’t felt in years.
He was already looking forward to the next time.
—
Technically, it wasn’t a “date.” At least, not in the traditional sense.
Lee Minho had spent the past two weeks across time zones, locked in the brisk, gray offices of London, signing papers, attending meetings, and suppressing the urge to wander the city streets in search of real life beyond boardrooms. His mind, however, had never left Seoul.
The first date–simple, cozy, and surprisingly fun–still lingered in his thoughts. The laughter, the soft smile that Hyunjin wore when he pushed the garlic bread toward him, the quiet way Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled when he talked about his students.
Even halfway across the globe, Minho had found himself checking his phone at odd hours. At first, just to reply to Hyunjin’s text: “Did you eat?” His own response was always simple. “Yes. Hope you did too.”
Then, goodnight texts evolved into good morning messages. Eventually, it became a habit. Random notifications pulled his attention, and he realized he was looking at his phone not out of work obligation but anticipation. He wasn’t sure when that had started, but it had.
Seungmin, ever observant, finally piped up.
“Boss,” the PA had said, leaning against Minho’s London apartment doorframe during a video call with Hyunjin, “are you dating someone?”
Minho had raised a brow. “Why do you care?” Minho can see Hyunjin’s sleepy eyes sparkle with mischief. Like challenging him.
Seungmin’s grin was infuriating. “Because I do. As your PA, I need to know!” he said, tongue poking out.
“Does he know?” Minho had laughed, secretly pleased at the teasing. “No, Puppy doesn’t need to know.”
Seungmin had shrugged. “Fine, fine. Your secret, boss.”
Minho can see Hyunjin is holding his smile through the phone screen.
And now, finally, Minho is back in Seoul. London had been exhausting, but he found himself calling Hyunjin the moment he stepped into his apartment, purely to hear the other man’s voice again after a 14 hours flight.
“Hi,” Hyunjin said, soft and warm through the line, making Minho’s chest tighten.
“Hi.” Minho stretched out on his sofa, gym shorts and a hoodie for comfort, running one hand through his hair. “Didn’t expect you to answer. Why are you not sleeping, huh?”
Hyunjin laughed nervously. “I–uh, no. I was watching some anime. But I’m glad you called. It’s nice to hear you’re back.”
A few minutes later, somehow, “There’s a 24/7 dessert café next to my apartment. Want to meet there?”
Minho’s response was quick, tiredness is gone, and excited. “ Sounds good.”
When Minho arrived, the world felt simpler. No suits, no pressure, just the quiet hum of the café. He spotted Hyunjin immediately. Casual sweatpants, a soft cardigan draped over a t-shirt, hair slightly messy but still perfect. Minho felt that familiar tug–annoying, magnetic, impossible to ignore.
“Hi,” Hyunjin greeted, cheeks already tinged pink from a brisk walk.
“Hi,” Minho replied, settling opposite him. The table between them was small, perfect for sharing.
They ordered strawberry shortcake, caramel pudding, mango ice cream, and two decaf iced Americanos. Minho noted the casual way Hyunjin tucked into the menu, as if discussing desserts were serious business–a quality he found endearing.
“So.. London,” Hyunjin began cautiously, stirring his iced coffee. “Was it intense?”
Minho leaned back, enjoying the relaxed, intimate atmosphere. “It was. Meetings, negotiations, a lot of walking in suits through drizzle. The city is beautiful, but business takes over everything. couldn't even take a walk around the apartment.”
Hyunjin nodded, eyes wide. “Sounds exhausting. I hope you got some sleep.”
“Enough,” Minho said. “Though I did miss Seoul and, well.” He trailed off, letting a faint smile play at his lips.
Hyunjin’s brow was quirked. “And?”
“Some company,” Minho admitted lightly. He watched Hyunjin bite the edge of his lip, the faintest flush spreading. “ I promised someone a second date and couldn't even see them after the first date.”
“Well. There were few seas between you and them.” Hyunjin smiled as the waiter placed desserts on the table.
They shared desserts carefully, exchanging small bites of each. Hyunjin teased Minho when he reached for the caramel pudding first. “Hey! That’s mine!”
Minho smirked, tasting it anyway. “Yours is just as good.”
Conversation flowed effortlessly. Hyunjin spoke about his master’s study plan, quietly ambitious yet soft in delivery. Minho listened, genuinely curious, impressed by his dedication. In turn, he talked about his own hobbies–rarely shared–like early morning runs and reading in hidden corners of his apartment when no one was around.
Hyunjin asked questions, genuine, thoughtful, and Minho found himself relaxing in ways he hadn’t in a long time. They laughed easily, the kind of laughter that lingered in the chest.
Then they moved to their friends.
“My friends are Jisung, Felix, Changbin, and Chan,” Hyunjin said, fingers curled around his coffee cup. “They’re just loud, but I love them. Keep me sane, mostly.”
Minho nodded. “Seungmin and Jeongin are the same for me. Though I suspect Seungmin would disown me if he knew about this date.”
Hyunjin laughed, a soft, melodic sound. “Oh, I think that’s our little secret then. Also stop giving your PA a hard time.”
A quiet moment settled over them, the kind where words were unnecessary. But Hyunjin, ever anxious, broke it, voice softer, quieter.
“I.. I’m nervous,” he admitted, eyes flicking down. “Dating someone like you. I told my mom about you too. Because I was too nervous not to.”
Minho’s chest warmed. He leaned forward slightly, voice low and steady. “You don’t have to be nervous.” His hand reached out, gently brushing Hyunjin’s cheek, fingertips caressing the faint pink flush there. “I’m serious about this. I never intend to hurt anyone.”
Hyunjin’s eyes went wide. He hid his face in his hands, hiding the blush, though Minho could see it peeking between fingers.
“What will your family say to this? One day when we have gone so far that we can't turn around without getting hurt?,” Hyunjin murmured after a beat, “but I always get hurt when dating. So!” His voice trailed, uncertain, embarrassed.
“They will actually like to hear that I’m dating.” Minho smiled faintly, leaning closer. “And I’ll make sure to not hurt you.”
The rest of dessert passed in gentle conversation, light teasing, and comfortable silence. Minho found himself stealing glances at Hyunjin’s profile–the curve of his smile, the soft brown eyes that still managed to look nervous and playful all at once.
Finally, Minho stood, offering his hand. “Shall we?”
Hyunjin nodded, and they walked to the apartment building lobby, side by side. The cool night air carried the faint smell of rain and city streets.
At the door, they hesitated. Neither wanted to be the first to say goodbye.
Hyunjin’s hand shot out, clutching Minho’s hoodie. He looked up, eyes wide, a tremor of vulnerability beneath his shyness.
Minho didn’t say a word. He leaned in, closing the distance, and kissed him.
It was soft at first, exploratory, tasting the sweetness of hesitation and mutual curiosity. Then deeper, urgent, as if two weeks of missed closeness had to be compressed into one perfect moment. Maybe a lifetime.
They pulled back slightly, breaths mingling, foreheads nearly touching. Hyunjin’s eyes were closed, flushed, lips parted.
“So pretty,” Minho murmured, voice rough. “I've wanted to kiss you since I saw you.”
“Minho–” Hyunjin started, but Minho cut him off with another kiss, gentle yet claiming, before pulling back just enough to smile.
“Goodbye,” Minho said teasingly, pressing a final soft kiss to Hyunjin’s lips.
Hyunjin grinned, shivering from the contact. “Goodbye. Go home safely.”
As Minho watched him disappear into the building, he realized that he didn’t want the moment to end. And for the first time in a long while, he didn’t mind being a little late, a little vulnerable, and a little hopelessly infatuated.
—
Minho had always hated mornings. The bright, intrusive sun, the chirping of alarm clocks, the endless responsibilities waiting for him before he’d even had a proper coffee.
This morning, however, was different.
His phone rang, and when he picked it up, a familiar, shy voice greeted him.
“Good morning! Happy birthday, Minho.”
Minho froze, eyes on the ceiling. The warmth that flooded his chest was dangerously close to making him giggle–like a little teenage girl. He cleared his throat. “Thank you! Princess.”
“I.. uh.. wanted to call before kindergarten started,” Hyunjin added, soft and nervous, the way he always sounded when he wasn’t sure how to speak to Minho.
“Good thinking,” Minho said, trying and failing to sound composed. “You’re very punctual.”
There was a pause on the line. “Hope your day is good today.”
Minho swallowed hard. “It already is.”
By the time he ended the call, his chest still felt light. He had a party scheduled that evening with his family and a few close friends. Of course, he wanted Hyunjin there.
“Hyunjin,” he called the moment he had a free minute, “would you want to come to my birthday dinner tonight?”
There was hesitation. “I’m not ready to meet your family yet. I’m sorry. I don’t want to mess up your special day.”
Minho smiled, though Hyunjin couldn’t see it. “Then come over tomorrow. Just us.”
Hyunjin didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes, I’d like that.”
Minho took the next day off. He hadn’t done this in months–not properly. He cleaned every corner of his apartment, ran a grocery store for the ingredients he’d need, and set aside time to cook a simple but hearty dinner, lasagna with fresh salad and a small dessert.
By the time the lasagna was baking, the apartment smelled of garlic, tomato, and melted cheese. Minho had just stepped out of the shower, hair damp, in jeans and a slightly oversized t-shirt. The doorbell rang.
He opened the door and froze. Hyunjin stood there, clutching a small cake-a rabbit cake, cheeks pink, eyes shy and uncertain.
“Happy birthday,” Hyunjin murmured, holding the cake like a fragile treasure.
Minho didn’t even think. He pulled Hyunjin into the doorway, kissing him–hard, eager, the kind of kiss that had been building for days. Hyunjin froze for half a heartbeat before melting into him, hand clutching Minho’s shirt and other hand trying to not drop the cake, breath hitching.
Pulling back slightly, Minho smirked. “You shouldn’t have. But I’m not complaining.”
Hyunjin’s lips quivered in a shy, nervous smile. “I wanted to. It’s your day afterall.”
Minho led him inside. The apartment was cozy, warm, and light soft. They set the cake aside and moved to the kitchen table where Minho had prepared dinner.
“You made all this?” Hyunjin asked, voice soft and impressed.
“Mm-hmm,” Minho said with a small grin. “Even had to do a grocery run. I cleaned too. I wanted to cook for you..”
Hyunjin laughed, faint and flustered. “I can’t believe you did all this. You could have hired someone, you know.”
“And miss seeing your face light up?” Minho teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “Not a chance.”
They ate dinner slowly, talking about their days, sharing little stories and teasing each other. Hyunjin reached for a piece of lasagna, and Minho’s hand brushed against his. Neither pulled away. The brush lingered just enough to send a small shiver up Hyunjin’s spine.
After dinner, they moved to the couch, the cake and wine waiting. Minho poured them both glasses, and they toasted quietly.
“To my 30s,” Minho said.
“To your thirty sexy,” Hyunjin replied, eyes sparkling.
Then the atmosphere shifted. A quiet, charged tension built between them. Minho’s hand found Hyunjin’s again, fingers brushing the soft skin of his wrist. Hyunjin’s breath hitched, pink blooming across his cheeks.
Without warning, Minho leaned down and kissed him again–longer, deeper, more insistent. Hyunjin responded immediately, fingers threading through Minho’s hair, pulling him closer.
Minutes passed, neither speaking, just exploring each other’s warmth and closeness. Then Minho’s hand slid from Hyunjin’s wrist to his side, gripping, guiding, devouring in a way that made Hyunjin gasp into his mouth.
“Minho–Bedroom–” Hyunjin whispered, voice trembling.
“Hmm,” Minho murmured, voice low and commanding, yet soft enough to comfort. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Hyunjin’s breath hitched as Minho picked him up. The bedroom door shut behind them. Clothes were quickly gone. Hyunjin’s tears pricked his eyes–not from pain, but from overwhelming sensation, from the intensity of Minho’s touch. He buried his face into Minho’s neck, body trembling, but Minho didn’t stop. His kisses found Hyunjin’s neck, jawline, every inch of exposed skin he could reach, worshiping him with a mix of reverence and desire.
Hyunjin cried softly into Minho’s mouth, hands clutching Minho’s bare skin, body shaking with every touch. Minho’s lips found his again and again, marking, claiming, cherishing. Every movement was purposeful, demanding, yet carefully controlled so that Hyunjin felt safe, adored, and completely consumed.
Minutes stretched into hours. Eventually, they collapsed together onto the bed, chest to chest, breathing ragged but hearts racing. They held each other, lingering in the afterglow of the intensity, lips still brushing occasionally, murmuring small reassurances and teasing whispers.
Later, after a shower, Hyunjin emerged in Minho’s soft t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, hair damp, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with embarrassment and contentment. Minho leaned against the counter, hands busy making tea, eyes watching him with a mixture of smugness and tenderness.
“You’re adorable,” Minho said softly, sliding the mug across the counter to Hyunjin.
Hyunjin’s cheeks flamed pink. “I’m embarrassed.”
Minho smirked, leaning close. “For what princess? It is not like we fucked in first date.”
“Oh my god! Shut up.” Minho’s laugh filled the kitchen before he wrapped his hands around Hyunjin’s waist and kissed his damp hair.
Hyunjin took a sip of tea, trying to calm his racing heart, but Minho leaned closer to his ear and brushed a thumb over the flushed skin of his cheek. “Hope you know I really like you,” he murmured, voice low and intimate. “You’re so precious.”
Hyunjin swallowed hard, shyly smiling, a blush still lingering, while Minho’s smirk softened into something warmer, tender, and entirely his. Hyunjin placed his tea on the counter before turning in Minho’s arms.
“I know,” Hyunjin kissed the corner of Minho’s mouth. Then hugged him so tightly. “I like you too. So much”
For the first time in months, Minho felt entirely at peace. And yet, his mind couldn’t help but wander, planning the next moments, the next touches, the next days with Hyunjin.
The first night together had changed something–not just physically, but emotionally. Hyunjin had let him in, fully and completely. And Minho intended to make sure he never regretted it.
They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, soft laughter, whispered secrets, and the gentle clinking of spoons against teacups filling the apartment. The world outside faded, leaving only the warmth, the scent, and the connection between them.
It was messy, it was perfect, it was everything.
---
The sound of an alarm that wasn’t his own pulled Minho from the depths of sleep. He blinked, adjusting to the faint morning light spilling through pastel-green curtains, and then registered the weight draped across him.
Warm. Soft. A body tangled with his own, breathing gently against his chest.
Hyunjin.
Minho’s lips curved into a smile before he even opened his eyes fully. His entire chest felt lighter. He tilted his head slightly and pressed a kiss to the crown of Hyunjin’s head. The silky strands tickled his lips, and the little shift in Hyunjin’s body told him he’d stirred awake.
“Mmm…” Hyunjin mumbled, voice hoarse from sleep. “Stop moving.”
“You’re literally lying on me,” Minho murmured, amused.
Hyunjin cracked one eye open, still groggy, but the moment his gaze met Minho’s, he immediately buried his face back into Minho’s chest, embarrassed. “Stop staring at me in the morning.”
“I can’t help it,” Minho teased, voice warm. “You’re cute when you’re half-asleep. Like a baby ferret.”
Hyunjin groaned, hitting Minho weakly on the chest. “I’m not cute. Don’t call me that.”
“You’re right,” Minho said, smirking. “You’re beautiful. Better?”
That only made Hyunjin groan louder, hiding even deeper into Minho’s t-shirt, as if he could disappear entirely. Minho laughed quietly, savoring the moment.
It had been ten days since he last held Hyunjin like this. Ten very long days. His business trip to the U.S. had stretched longer than expected, filled with endless meetings, late nights, and hotel rooms that felt far too empty. He’d landed back in Seoul just yesterday evening, and the first thing he did–before even unpacking–was go straight to Hyunjin’s place, arms full of flowers and an assortment of overpriced chocolates.
Dinner had quickly turned into kisses. Kisses had turned into tangled sheets. And tangled sheets had turned into Hyunjin’s soft cries muffled against his pillow, sheets clutched in his fists, Minho murmuring reassurances into the side of his neck.
Minho’s smile widened at the memory. He kissed Hyunjin’s hair again.
“Good morning,” Minho said softly.
Hyunjin shifted, blinking sleepily up at him. “Good morning. You're awake too early for your jetlag.”
“Maybe I just like being woken up by your alarm,” Minho said, tapping Hyunjin’s nose.
“Liar.” Hyunjin yawned, sitting up slowly, hair messy and lips still swollen from last night’s kisses. “Do you want breakfast? There’s a café near the Han River. I usually go on Sundays.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “You’re inviting me into your sacred routine? Should I feel honored?”
“Shut up,” Hyunjin muttered, sliding off the bed and searching for his cardigan. “I’m asking you on a date. Do you want to go?
Minho swung his legs over the bed, stretching leisurely. “Of course I want to. As long as you let me join in your shower.”
Hyunjin froze mid-step, ears turning red. “You can’t just say that casually.”
“Why not?” Minho smirked. “You’re mine. I was literally inside you a few hours ago.”
Hyunjin made a strangled noise and stomped into the bathroom to brush his teeth, which only made Minho chuckle.
The café was a cozy little place with wooden tables and a view of the river glistening in the morning light. They sat by the window, Hyunjin sipping his ice latte while Minho leisurely drank his ice americano.
Hyunjin’s outfit was simple–cream sweater, dark jeans, messy hair barely tamed–but Minho couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t just the way Hyunjin looked, it was the way he lit up talking about the smallest things, hands moving animatedly, eyes sparkling as he described one of his students.
“So Sunjae knocked over the vase,” Hyunjin said, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Water everywhere, glass shattered. He was crying so hard, poor kid. I told him it was okay, but then Sunghoon—my colleague—slipped on the water and fell on his butt, so the whole class started laughing. It was chaos.”
Minho chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “I can picture it. You are scolding the kids with hands on your waist, trying to hold it together.”
Hyunjin pouted. “Hey. I’m professional.”
“Mm. Sure.” Minho’s smile softened as he watched Hyunjin continue to ramble.
Something tugged at him. A realization that struck quietly, almost sneaking up on him.
Happiness. Pure, simple happiness.
He hadn’t felt this in years. Not with business deals, not with high-end dinners, not with fleeting dates arranged by social connections. Nothing compared to sitting in a cozy café with Hyunjin talking about broken vases and crying children.
“Hyunjin,” Minho said suddenly, interrupting him mid-story.
Hyunjin blinked, startled. “Hm?”
Minho leaned back in his chair, eyes steady on him. “I realized something.”
“What?”
“I never actually asked to be your boyfriend.”
Hyunjin’s lips parted. For a moment, his expression was blank, then color rushed to his face all at once. “What do you mean? I thought we already–I mean, aren’t we already?”
Minho chuckled softly, enjoying the sight of Hyunjin fumbling. “So you just assumed?”
Hyunjin sputtered, covering his face with both hands. “I–! You kissed me like that last night and how was I supposed to think otherwise?!”
Minho reached across the table, gently pulling Hyunjin’s hands away so he could see his face again. “Relax. I’m not complaining.” His thumb brushed over Hyunjin’s knuckles. “But I want to make it clear. I don’t want something casual. I don’t want to leave it unsaid. I want you.”
Hyunjin’s breath caught. His lips trembled.
“So,” Minho continued, voice softening, a rare vulnerability peeking through his usual confidence, “Hyunjin, Can I be your boyfriend? I wo–”
Hyunjin stared at him, wide-eyed, before blurting out, “Yes!”
Minho blinked. “I wasn’t even finished with the question.”
“I don’t care,” Hyunjin said, cheeks burning. “Yes. Of course yes.” He broke off, embarrassed, biting his lip.
Minho smirked, leaning across the table. “You’re too cute, princess.”
Hyunjin glared weakly. “Shut up.”
Then Minho kissed him. Right there in the café, with the river outside and a few curious glances from other patrons. A slow, lingering kiss that made Hyunjin forget entirely where they were.
When Minho pulled back, he whispered against his lips, “My boyfriend.”
Hyunjin’s heart flipped violently. He buried his face in his hands again, groaning. “Stop saying it like that!!”
Minho only laughed, reaching for Hyunjin’s hand again and squeezing it firmly.
“Okay, boyfriend”
“Lee Minho!”
—