Minjae's legs pounded against the wet pavement, water splashing beneath his shoes with every desperate step. His lungs burned, but he couldn't stop—not when Jiho's arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, his weight pressing against Minjae's back like a broken bird. Jiho's breathing came in shallow gasps, his skin ice-cold from the river water that still dripped from his hair.
"Hang on," Minjae panted, adjusting his grip. "Just hang on, okay?"
Panic clawed at his chest, tightening with every labored breath Jiho took. The sound was too quiet, too fragile.
"Minjae..." Jiho's voice emerged barely above a whisper, muffled against his shoulder. "Is that... is that really you?"
Minjae's eyes widened, relief flooding through him. "Yeah, idiot. Who else would it be? Santa Claus?"
Jiho released a small, shaky breath, then tightened his grip around Minjae's neck. "You feel... warm," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion.
"Yeah, well..." Minjae's voice cracked slightly. "Maybe don't almost drown next time, you stupid—"
"Don't call me stupid when I'm dying," Jiho interrupted weakly.
"You're not dying. I won't let you."
They were close now—almost too close. Jiho's cheek brushed against Minjae's, and even in the middle of chaos, their faces were only inches apart. Jiho's wet eyelashes clung to his skin, his breath tickling Minjae's jaw in a way that made his heart stutter.
Then Jiho whispered, "Is... is that kitten okay? The one by the bridge?"
Minjae almost tripped over his own feet. "What the—?! You nearly drowned, and you're asking about a cat?!"
"It was crying," Jiho mumbled. "Sounded scared."
"You're unbelievable," Minjae muttered, but his voice was softer now. "The cat's fine. Probably home by now, eating tuna or whatever."
Jiho didn't answer. He just nuzzled deeper into Minjae's shoulder, holding tighter as if Minjae were his only anchor in a world that had tried to swallow him whole.
"God... you're going to be the death of me," Minjae sighed, but his arms tightened protectively around Jiho's legs.
---
Instead of taking Jiho home, Minjae headed to his own apartment—it was closer, and Jiho's body was still dangerously cold. The moment they stepped inside, Minjae kicked off his soaked shoes and gently lowered Jiho onto the couch. Jiho blinked up at him, pale and shivering like a leaf in winter.
"You're freezing," Minjae muttered, already moving toward his bedroom. "I'm getting you changed before you turn into an ice cube."
"Where are you going?" Jiho's voice was small, almost panicked.
"To get clothes, dumbass. Unless you want to sit there in wet clothes all night?"
Minjae returned with dry clothes and reached to pull off Jiho's wet shirt—but Jiho slapped his hand away with surprising strength.
"What are you doing?! You pervert!"
Minjae froze, then burst into laughter. "Hey, what kind of imagination do you have? I'm trying to help you before you catch pneumonia! You're the one being weird!"
Jiho's ears turned crimson. "T-Then why'd you bring me here instead of my place, huh?"
"Because," Minjae said flatly, grabbing a towel from the bathroom, "you passed out in my arms. My place was closer. I thought you were gonna die out there, understand? What was I supposed to do, perform CPR on the sidewalk?"
"You know CPR?" Jiho asked, distracted.
"I know a lot of things. Now stop being difficult."
Jiho mumbled something under his breath but didn't resist again as Minjae helped him change. Minjae unbuttoned Jiho's shirt carefully, trying to be professional about it—but he couldn't help the way his eyes lingered.
Jiho's skin was pale and soft under the warm light, almost translucent. His chest rose and fell gently, his stomach smooth and flat with the slightest hint of ribs showing through. There was something almost ethereal about him, like he was made of moonlight and fragile dreams.
God... he looks like a doll, Minjae thought, swallowing hard. His skin's so white... like porcelain. And his waist—damn. Is it normal for a guy to have a waist that tiny?
"Are you even eating properly?" Minjae asked, frowning.
"I eat," Jiho mumbled defensively.
"Rice crackers don't count as meals."
"They're substantial."
"They're air with salt."
Minjae shook his head. No... control yourself. He's cold. He's scared. Don't be a creep.
"C-Can you not stare so hard...?" Jiho mumbled, voice barely audible.
"I'm not staring," Minjae lied instantly, focusing intently on the towel in his hands.
"You're literally holding your breath."
"I'm concentrating!"
"On what? Counting my ribs?"
Minjae coughed and looked away. "You have... nice ribs, okay?"
Jiho's jaw dropped. "Who says that?! What kind of compliment is that?"
"A weird one," Minjae admitted, smirking as he began drying Jiho's hair with the towel. "Be thankful I didn't say something weirder."
Jiho narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Like what?"
Minjae muttered under his breath, "Your waist could fit in my hands."
Jiho turned bright red. "Hey! Kang Minjae!"
"What? It's true!" Minjae grinned, shoving a hoodie and sweatpants into Jiho's arms. "Just shut up and change before I say something that'll really make you blush."
"I'm not blushing!"
"Your face is redder than a tomato."
"That's from the cold!"
"Sure it is."
Jiho struggled into the oversized clothes, drowning in fabric that hung off his small frame like a tent.
Minjae burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you look like a lost baby ghost. That hoodie could fit three of you. Maybe four."
"Your clothes are too big," Jiho pouted, tugging at the sleeves that completely covered his hands. "You're like a giant."
"You're just tiny. Like a fairy."
"Fairies are cool."
"You're not cool. You're cute. There's a difference."
Jiho glared at him. "You always tease me! I'm going home."
He tried to stand, but his legs were still shaky. Minjae caught him before he could fall and pulled him into a hug without warning.
Jiho froze, wide-eyed. His heart thudded against his chest like a trapped bird.
Minjae's arms were strong and warm, his chest firm and solid. Jiho could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, hear the quiet hum of his breathing. He smelled like sandalwood and mint, a subtle cologne that lingered on his skin and made Jiho want to bury his face in his neck.
"I'm sorry," Minjae whispered into his hair. "For being late. You must've been so scared out there."
"I wasn't scared," Jiho lied, his voice muffled against Minjae's chest.
"Liar."
"I was... maybe a little scared."
"Just a little?"
Jiho didn't reply, just clutched the oversized hoodie tighter, letting himself melt into the warmth that seemed to radiate from Minjae's very soul.
"Calm down, baby..." Minjae's voice was soft, almost vulnerable. "Just for tonight, stop fighting me. Hit me tomorrow if you want, but tonight... just let me take care of you."
Jiho's heart skipped at the pet name. "You really are stupid," he whispered, but there was no bite in it.
Minjae chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, but I'm your kind of stupid, right?"
"Unfortunately."
"Hey!"
"What? It's true."
They sat like that for a while, Jiho curled into Minjae's chest as if he belonged there, as if this was where he was always meant to be. The heater buzzed faintly in the background, filling the comfortable silence between them with white noise.
"Hey, Minjae?" Jiho whispered after a long moment.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks... for finding me. For always finding me."
Minjae ruffled his damp hair gently. "Always. Even if you're being an idiot."
"I'm still mad at you," Jiho mumbled, but his grip on Minjae's shirt tightened.
Minjae grinned. "It's okay! You're cute when you're mad. Like a kitten ready to bite."
"I will bite you."
"I dare you."
"Don't tempt me."
"You're all talk, no action."
"You're impossible," Jiho laughed, the sound light and genuine.
"Yet here you are. In my arms. Wearing my clothes. Smelling like my shampoo."
Jiho blushed again but didn't pull away. Instead, he yawned and leaned deeper into Minjae's chest, his eyelids growing heavy.
"Minjae?" His voice came out small, vulnerable.
"Mmm?"
"Promise you'll always find me. Even when I'm being stupid."
Minjae pressed his chin to the top of Jiho's head and whispered, "Promise. Even if I have to search the whole world."
"That's dramatic."
"You're worth being dramatic for."
Jiho slowly drifted off to sleep, his fingers curled into Minjae's sleeve like a child afraid of being left behind.
Minjae looked down at him—at the peaceful curve of his lips, the flutter of his dark lashes against pale cheeks, the way he looked so small and fragile in clothes that were too big for him. His heart ached in a way he didn't expect, in a way that scared him.
He whispered into the quiet apartment, his voice barely audible, "Let's end this... this fake relationship..."
---