Chapter Text
"icy fingers pressed on warm cheeks,
i admire the snow flakes trapped in your hair.
our billowing clouds of breath intermingle,
as our laughter resounds in the frosty air.”
Isyourbedroomceilingbored, Cas Fairchild
❄️
Giggling, Minho opens his arms wide when Jisung opens the door for him. He doesn’t even make it inside before Jisung throws himself at him.
“It’s gross how much I’ve missed you,” He whispers, “I want you all by myself before anyone else gets here,”
“It’s been a week and a half,” Minho hums, waddles inside with Jisung attached to him. He places kisses across Jisung’s cheek.
“So? That’s a week and a half too long,” Jisung argues. Lets Minho go nevertheless, reciprocates a kiss, on Minho’s lips this time. He lets Minho unzip his jacket, drops the heavy bag to the floor. Minho nods, as if Jisung has made a great point. Fortunately for the both of them, with an extra long winter break for Minho, he’ll stay much longer than the three meek days they’ve both gotten used to sharing for the last few months. It’s only for Christmas they’ll have to spend apart, which Minho has promised away to his parents, and Jisung to his.
He looks around Jisung, into his kitchen. At the array of stuff laid across a counter.
“You’re cooking huh?” Minho raises a brow.
“Yeah, I want to impress your parents,” Jisung mumbles, asking wordlessly if Minho could help.
“Why? They’re already obsessed with you,”
“Well, but now that our parents are meeting for the first time, or sort of for the first time, I need to impress everyone,”
Minho doesn’t argue with him, and quietly helps Jisung with the food. Tells him between stirring the pot and chopping up garnish, that his parents should be here soon, Jisung tells him the same, checking his phone probably fifteen times in two minutes.
“You need to impress my parents too, are you not worried?” Jisung whispers, he comes up behind Minho. Wraps his arms around him, Minho lets the knife go, and turns the stove off to let the food cook on afterheat.
“Parents love me, I have nothing to worry about, besides, you forget I’ve met them before too right?”
“Not since we started dating, officially” Jisung adds, “That was ten years ago, before I remet you, and ever since, you know, I started to tell them what happened last year, between me and my ex, they’ve been on their toes, worried, more than before.”
“I’ll convince them I’m worthy of you, I promise,” Minho turns around, and he kisses Jisung. Assures Jisung everything will be fine.
They sway side to side slowly, as if dancing. Minho holds Jisung tight. They stay there for much longer than they anticipate, refusing to let go of each other. Jisung looks out the window, smiling. Snow. His phone pings with a message, and Jisung tells Minho his parents are on their way up.
“Let’s make the table,” He tells Minho, who nods. “Just one last kiss, or two last ones, before they get here,” Jisung smiles.
Anything for Jisung, Minho isn’t exactly known for being able to say no to him. He pecks Jisung twice on the lips, then he holds his finger out, presses it flush to Jisung’s lips.
“You insatiable beast have to wait until later if you want more,” Minho teases, dancing out of Jisung’s way to grab plates from the cabinets and ordering Jisung to take out glasses for them.
They’re still walking around giggling, setting everything on the table, and checking to make sure they’ve taken everything out when knocks echo from Jisung’s door. Jisung sets everything in his hands down immediately, rushing to get it.
“Mom, dad—” He opens the door, then a little wider, “Oh—Mr, Mrs Lee.”
Minho’s ears perk up just hearing the mention of his parents, he takes the necessary strides to walk up behind Jisung. “You are here too?” His mouth forms into an ‘o’, then he turns to Jisung’s, smiles, and reaches out to shake their hands.
“We met downstairs, when we were parking. Had a small chat coming upstairs,” Minho’s mom chirps, she steps aside to let Jisung’s parents enter first.
Jisung chews his lips, trying to smile the nervosity away.
“Mom, and dad, uh—this is Minho, of course,” He mumbles, as if he isn’t already looking at them shaking hands and exchanging polite greetings. “And, well, Minho’s parents,” He introduces, for no reason, they too have met. If you count the time they spent down at the house when they were kids, it’s dozens of times by now.
Jisung shows them to the table, runs into the kitchen to grab a final vase of water—Minho comes up to him, asks if he needs help with anything else. Jisung shakes his head.
“It’s going to be fine, honey,” Minho whispers, taking the water from Jisung’s hands, “Okay?” He assures, and Jisung nods, “Good, let's eat then?” He says, with a final peck to Jisung’s cheek.
With a nod, Jisung follows Minho back to the table, the sight of their parents quietly sharing a conversation is nice. Before Jisung settles on a chair, he quietly presents the food—Minho lets Jisung take the credit for it all, gazing at him from his place, admiring him as if nothing else exists in the world.
Nothing really does. In their world, they’re all that are.