Forewarning: Mild spice 2/3rds of the chapter. It's actually kind of cute :( They're just really cute

If, you went back in time and found Lee Minho from a year or so ago. If, you found him, looked him in the eye and told him,

"Hey. In a year, you're going to be making out with a famous camboy you met off the internet, on his couch, in his apartment, barely an hour after seeing him face to face, because you're THAT desperate for physical contact."

He would laugh in your face and tell you to leave him the hell alone.

Life is, kind of funny in the way it works out, isn't it?

Such as, him breaking every single rule he established for himself as a hacker simply to satisfy his own stupid cravings. Simply to, be given the undeniable chance to indulge in his physical attraction to this unfamiliar stranger writhing underneath him. Yes, that's all this was; A physical attraction. He knew that. He was attracted to the camboy's face, his body, his voice, his eyes, nothing else. There was nothing else to be attracted to but that anyway; He barely knew him outside of what brief information they shared and the personal data dumped online by the doxxing. Beside that, Minho didn't really know anything about him besides; He was attracted to Jisung. Jisung was attracted to him. They were both desperate, aroused as hell by being in the other's presence, and needed to go touch some grass.

Even if, all they had been doing was gently kissing. After the initial rough press from Jisung, both of them maintaining the contact but quickly backing off. Not pressing to initiate anything more than the rhymic moving of their lips as Minho somehow found himself on top of the younger, elbows caging him in as his fingers occupied themselves with wandering hair strands against the couch cushions. Joints aching as they supported his weight, trapping them both somewhere between incredibly hungry for the other, and still too awkward with one another to do more than keep their lips slotted together, moving together. Softly making out on the camboy's couch.

Resisting every urge in his body to lay his hands on the adorable man and learn him. Begin to feel, understand who he was beneath the sweater, understand why the hell Lee Minho was stuck so far underneath this Han Jisung's spell when he hardly even knew him.

Begin to understand why he enjoyed the soft lips that welcomed him in, the puffs and pants that slowly began to meet his eardrums, the stuttering of his own heart roaring in his chest. Believing the other could feel it whenever their chests accidentally brushed together. Believing he could feel how badly his dazed body was shaking as it flushed with warmth.

Daring to wonder, Minho backed off from the kiss, gently lifting himself away but remaining within their close proximity as whine slipped from the younger. Those adorable little hands moving gently up to him, to his cheeks, fingertips tingling into his skin as they trailed his cheekbones. Minho continued to twist the hair strands around his fingers, glittery eyes raking him up and down. Head to toe as the stirring of his gaze sent the older dizzy. Completely stuck. He murmured, "Is it okay if I touch you?"

"Yes," Jisung nodded eagerly, those glimmery eyes dancing with a certain tenderness. And his lips, fuck, swollen and slightly parted, gulping down a heavy breath, the heat from the most perfect sight a wildfire down Minho's spine. A perfect neediness in the running of his fingers against his cheekbone, "Yes, please."

"Where, love?"

"Anywhere you want."

Minho had to bite back a smile.

AhhhhHHUuuuufufHhhhh??!?

The way his heart fluttered at those words was not healthy. Not even in the slightest bit.

Shaking his own apprehensive excitement off, Minho captured Jisung up in another kiss.

Hungrier this time, rougher in the hand moving to the back of his head, fisting his hair, pulling him hard into the other as he ran his tongue along the younger's lips. Allowing them to shudder for a moment before they parted for him, and he delved the tongue between those beautiful lips. Trying to be gentle in the soft motions, trying to keep the reckless want to completely fuck the other's mouth with his tongue restrained, trying to be tender with this beautiful bit of sunlight in his hands beginning to writhe and squirm. Heated in the strangled hitches and breaking moans from the body arching against his.

Keeping Jisung busy in the kiss, his hand released itself from the loose elbow he balanced himself on, breaking away. Breaking down to the hem of Jisung's sweater and tugging on it lightly. Waiting at that threshold for a moment. Waiting for a confirmation.

When the camboy gave him a swift nod, Minho slipped his hand underneath the sweater.

The camboy immediately pulled back from the kiss with a soft moan. Squirming underneath the touch, more of those soft shudders and quivers slipped from the light part in his lips as the fingers tangled in the hacker's hair tightened. Those small movements, small noises, sounds like candy to his ears as a surge of heat pulled low in his abdomen.

Minho ran his hands over the lissom chest. Fingertips brushing over the valley of his cute little stomach, lingering to hold his waist to tug him closer, tracing the imprints of his ribcage, so delicate. So indescribably perfect in the glimmering eyes watching his every movement, hooded as their siren darkness kept that fast moment of eye contact burning into his mind, in the adorable little moans purring from his velvet-like lips. Satin skin. Perfect.

Fucking perfect.

My heart is thundering.

Minho kept his hand busy with roaming as his body pulsed, fingertips learning everything the younger was in slow motions. Methodical, drawn out, wishing to understand him. How he felt. Wanting to imprint the feeling of his body in his memories forever, wanting to relish in the slight layer of sweat building on the paced rise and fall of his chest, wanting to pinch and nip at every inch of his skin, to satisfy his own desire. To submit to his own shattering warm pooling in his gut, in his mind, beginning to ache deep within his chest, tingling him with a drunken daze hazing his thoughts that shuddered down his spine with his own rattling breaths. His own want to just, hurry this the fuck up, strip, get between his legs, and fuck him until he couldn't remember his own name, but holding himself back with those adorable eyes shimmering up at him with a pure excitement. Lust too, but he was so, adorably, excited.

With the hand in his hair unfurling, softly trailing down to his back. Cold fingers finding their way underneath the white fur of his hoodie to rake into his back.

Finding their way down to his waistband, fingertips dipping below the beltline.

For some reason, I want to do this right for him.

With a meager groan of his own, Minho lowered himself more.

I want to treat him well.

He pressed a quick peck to the tip of Jisung's nose, catching his breath as he paused for a moment. Lungs aching painfully at the suffocating proximity, close, close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other's flushing skin, close enough to be addicted off of his honeyed scent, to be drawn deeper into the hands scaling the length of his muscles underneath the hoodie. Each skim down another jolt of electricity up his mind, every brush up chills down his spine. He nosed along the other's throat, pressing gentle kisses to the visible chokes. Words quiet against the other as he wondered, "Who would've thought you're so cute? So, fucking, pretty."

"Says you?" Jisung swallowed down a groan. His head tilted back, arching against the couch cushions as Minho worked on marking up the skin. Biting at it, nipping at it, enough to leave an irritation behind, but not enough to pain the beautiful person. Not enough to treat him any less than the ecstacy gold he was. His fingertips continued to spin beneath Minho's waistline, feeling into his skin with it's teasing notions, but not going farther. Not yet. The camboy huffed, another swallow gulped through his throat as he rasped, "I don't even believe in gods, but, Bunny, I'm sure if any existed, they would be like you."

"You're joking," The hacker snorted, lips brushing into the veins. Chasing along his jaw, his ears, his neck, finding his collarbone as he nibbled gently on the bone, a tongue pressed down on it to ease the whine from his lips afterwards.

He bit down another whimper and whispered, "It's true."

"No, come on, I'm... Average," Minho joked back to him. He pulled the collar of the sweater down, relishing in the view that met him; Blushing skin, beautifully untouched, a complete masterpiece to see, to admire, to mark up. Luscious in the radiance of that canvas coming undone with it's heavy breaths and divine in the few moles scattered on the painting. He dived back down, lips working to leave bruises along the skin as he murmured through his kisses, "I'm... like a rock, compared to you, love."

"Noooooooo-"

"Yeeeeeessssssssss."

"You're damn perfect," Jisung insisted, words choking up around more swallows and moans as the older worked farther down his clothed chest, the other hand still pinching and nipping everywhere it could lay on.

The younger removed his hands from the waistband. He twisted his fingers into the belt loops of Minho's jeans.

Without warning, he pulled the older's hips down. An immediate groan from the bottom of his throat choked out at the pleasure washing up his body in unstoppable waves.

That friction against the clothed erection he had been seeking for, silently begging for. The young camboy frantically beginning to roll their hips together as he shuddered and trembled with deeper loans. Sinking lower in his throat. Pitching higher with every grind up, down, circling and swirling imprints on Minho's mind as he allowed himself to follow the other's motions. The other's waves through his body sinking up and down.

This, was perfect.

Absolute paradise at the skilled movement of their hips and he wasn't even inside him yet.

Ecstacy on his mind, a high on his heart pounding rapidly.

How good will it feel once they've gone all the way?

A frenzied daze with every moan that tugged Jisung to sit up, to straddle him as he sat back against the couch. That rhythmic pace keeping them both moaning and panting against one another.

An intoxication off that Cheshire's poison that forced him to fish his hands down and tap the bottom of the sweater, Jisung hurriedly pulling it off of him and tossing it away.

Hurriedly causing his hands to grip Minho's shoulders, ripping between the bones and muscles as he threw his head back. More of those beautiful sounds. More of those addicting moans from between the parted lips as the hacker grew drunk off the pleasure.

Grew lost in his desire for that beautiful bit of Arcadia sunlight, feeling him, touching him as his hands sunk down along his body, gripping at the strained thighs rocking them, squeezing at the younger's ass as if he was the one to own it, having the pleasure to be the one those perfect legs straddled. Having the honor to be the one giving the camboy trembles through his body, to be the one snagging moans from the bottom of his throat growing louder, needier, raspier, losing their strength with Minho pulling him in, kissing his bare chest, licking stripes up the clammy skin flushed with a rose tint, to play and nip gently at the sensitive nipples, that heat in the space between them building, and building, and building, and Minho was about five seconds from throwing the rousing vixen on the floor and fucking him senseless then.

He was just...

Perfect.

So damn perfect.

So damn cute.

Cute little cheeks that blushed, cute little glossy eyes, cute little hands and a desperation to him that was driving Minho wild.

And they were both, probably, a little more intense about this than they should have been.

Both moving a little too fast while swept up with the other's fervent arousal.

And Minho, should have remembered he couldn't even do push-ups without becoming sick from an attack.

Because, as soon as Jisung's hands ran down Minho's chest and found the buttons of his jeans, a timid lip bite asking softly, "Can I?"

As soon as Minho tried to answer,

A gentle ringing pressed into his ears.

No way.

A swift shock jostling through his veins as he felt the mild sound begin to build up in his ears. He gripped Jisung's waist gently, trying to push him up off of straddling him. He managed to find his tongue again, forcing it to work through the throbbing of his now panicking heart as he stammered, "Hang on. Love, I need to get up."

No fucking way.

"Did I do something wrong?" Jisung's expression dropped, gently following where Minho's hands set him down against the couch. The sound of him flopping against the cushions meeting the dimming of his ringing ears.

Now?!?!

"No, no, you're okay," The hacker reassured him. He turned his attention off the camboy, hands coming to grip at the mild ache building in the forefront of his head, coming to grasp desperately onto the feeling in his legs slowly slipping away, the sensations which once fired off in his body drowning out to a muddled mess of tingling nothingness. His tongue coming heavier against his mouth as he tried to comfort, "You're perfect, shit, give me a second."

In his fingertips, his nerves tingled gently.

ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?!!??!?!

Minho quickly swiped his phone off the coffee table, pretending to check the black screen that met him as he stood off the couch and barely managed to slur out, "I have to go. Important call."

"Oh, maybe-"

He quickly charged to the front door and ripped the threshold open, slamming it closed behind him as the numbness spread to his forearms, his biceps, his chest, his lungs, his neck, up to his head.

As the hallway of the apartment complex began to tilt underneath his feet.

And he barely managed to jog to a freshly arrived elevator, press the two double doors close, and keep his fingers shoved into the shut button as the ground beneath him finally slipped and the joints in his legs came unhinged. His hands losing their grip around his phone as it clattered down.

His knees hit the spinning floor of the elevator.

The world that viciously tipped, one way, then the other, rocking, back and forth, violently as he couldn't catch himself again on the railings. His palms shoved against the spinning ground, the clamminess layering on him and the nausea building up in his head doing nothing for the blur in his eyes.

The vision that sunk up, falling toward the sky.

Until he roped it's unconscious wandering back down to the tile beneath him.

While the world shifted again, tipping him off balance from the support of his two palms. Sending him to collapse down. Shoulder meeting the ground as a tickling numb dulled out anything other than the view of the spinning ceiling circling around him like vultures waiting for him to drop dead from the nausea. From the spinning. From the migraine building. From the ringing in his ears stuffing him with cotton, as if he was a big Teddy Bear and nothing else. A mannequin of a person shoved full of that padding. Unfeeling.

Slowly, Minho managed to sit up against the wall of the elevator.

Managed to close his eyes against the nonstop swirling.

The throbbing of the elevator, inflating deflating, as if the walls and floors were breathing with him inside. As if it was a beating heart, pumping while he was floating inside the chambers, tossed mercilessly with the metered pulses sinking him down.

He tried to breath through the snapping beats.

Tried to control the looseness in his neck, his legs, his arms, the limbs refusing to cooperate with his pleads.

Tried to stop himself from retching around the building motion sickness.

He tried to feel for the inside of his hoodie's pocket, grip desperately clutching for anything inside the compartment.

Nothing.

He must have left his medicine inside his car.

Which meant, Minho was reduced to waiting for the attack to come to an end. Waiting out the uncomfortable twisting and spinning of the ground refusing to allow him a moment of repose against it's restlessness obliviously enjoying it's teasing flips. Waiting out the vile crawl of a foul queasiness threatening to regurgitate everything he had decided to eat in the past few hours. Waiting out the detached floating of his paralyzed limbs ignoring every beg and wince from him, to them, to simply work. Waiting out the inability to function as a human being for more than ten minutes without his brain turning on his body and shattering him to splinters against the ground. Waiting for the ringing to subside, die out, leave him alone. Waiting for him to just fucking work. For once, just fucking be normal.

Instead of listening to the beating of his heart like the ticking of a clock.

Instead of listening to how it mocked him with sneering grins and fastened jeers, songs of;

Lee Minho is running out of time.

The ringing in his ears slowly began to drown out, their muted numb washing away as the migraine pressing down onto his saccadic eyes lingered in their wake. Gradually, the feeling in his fingertips returned back to his body. The tipping of the ground stopped waving like the rogue roughness of the ocean, their storm subsiding to gentle rocking, before even those completely turned to crystal glass water. Becoming still against his body again as his panicking body returned, bit by bit, back to the present world. Back to the clean emptiness of the elevator yet to have moved off this floor of the apartment building. Back to the mirrors, the freezing touch of the tile, the stinging throbs from the shoulder he fell onto prodding at his mind in warning, he should check later on.

Slowly, he grabbed the railing and hauled himself off the floor, the last of the remnants of the attack still causing his legs to buckle beneath him.

Still causing him to grip hard on the metal bar to steady himself.

His gaze met the one in the elevator's mirror. The gentle glaze of a panic on his eyes.

Lee Minho is always dying.

He tried to ignore how pale his skin appeared to be and scooped his phone off the floor of the elevator. Pocketing it. Next going to press the ground floor button. The mechanisms of the technology whittling to life, humming gently as it brought him down to the first floor.

Lee Minho is the white rabbit.

He kept his head down, steps still unsteady as he found himself trudging out to the lobby. To the parking lot. To where he left his car. Popping open the trunk to fish in his computer back for the familiar medicine wrapping. Doing his best to control the shaking of his hands and focus through the powerful migraine making him want to vomit, again. Doing his best to swallow it down dry as the heightened emotions calmed.

Lee Minho is always out of time.

With a sigh, he sunk into the driver's seat of his car and locked the doors. Sealing off the rest of the world from the uncomfortable crawl up his body.

Shame.

How could he not be embarrassed? When his stupid genes couldn't even cooperate and keep him a normal human without any kind of issue. When his stupid brain was too jacked up to not flail around whenever it wanted to.

It's humiliating.

He huffed another deep breath out and found his phone. Scrolling through the apps until he found his calendar and marked the time down underneath the date, followed with the classic 'E'. With the frustration stacking in his veins, not even bothering to check when the last attack was.

He closed the app down.

And noticed the texts from a familiar name.

Jisung

Jisung
Bunny
Did I do something wrong? (;_;
I'm sorry
I didn't mean to
Please don't be mad at me
12:07 am

Minho exhaled deeply, murmuring underneath his breath, "Shit, I'm sorry."

Even if his own heart burned with an anger at himself.

youre okay love you didnt do anything
i like what we did so far
i want to go farther with you (if that's okay)
i want to touch you (with your permission)
i want to leave hickeys everywhere (ill ask first)
12:53 am

but I cant tonight something important came up
family business
12:54 am

you didnt do anything wrong
ill make this up to you
promise
12:55 am

٩(๑òωó๑)۶♡
12:58 am

Jisung
IS THAT AN EMOTICON???
AHHHHH SO CUTE
You're so cute Bunny
You look so fucking beautiful in the real world
You're an amazing kisser too
12:59 am

I'll trust you for now (¯―¯٥)
But if I did do something, please let me know!!!
Even if it's in the future
But
Otherwise
1:00 am

Let's meet again soon, yeah?
(^^♪
1:01 am

Minho threw the phone down on the dashboard.

Then stared out the windshield, eyes blanking out on the silver car parked in front of his.

Before he let his head drop.

And slammed it against the steering wheel.

"Stupid, fucking, brain!!!" Minho complained, raging as he continued to smack his forehead on the wheel as each word was accompanied by the blasting of his horn. His palm then coming to hit loosely into his forehead, into his temples, hitting into himself as if the chunk of wrinkly meat could understand what itself was saying to it, "You ruined it! How can you do this to me?! I thought we were bros?!?!"

Minho shifted back in his seat, thoughts wandering back to the beautiful camboy, "He was so pretty. So fucking pretty. So sweet too. So cute."

Then pointed up at himself in the rearview mirror.

"And you ruined it!!!"

Minho dropped his hand and slammed it on the steering wheel again, the horn bleeding out a strong note.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

《↑⇄↸↻⇂↬↖》

Hope it's okay ＼(^o^)／

Again, I feel the need to reiterate: Minho isn't dying in this story. His thoughts definitely will linger towards that (how can he not [plus it's his characterisation]), but he won't die in the story.