One Bullet Left / Minsung ??

Han Jisung's POV

I lay on the ground, dazed and in pain, watching as Minho took out the bullies one by one. It was surreal, seeing the normally so calm and reserved Minho in this state, rage and protectiveness taking over completely.
Slowly, I sat up and leaned against the wall, wincing as every movement sent a fresh wave of pain through me. But I couldn't take my eyes off Minho, the older boy moving with a grace and ferocity that left me both awed and slightly terrified.

When the last bully was dealt with, Minho turned to me. His expression softened as he knelt beside me, his earlier anger replaced with worry.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, gently reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of my face. His touch was feather-light, his eyes roaming over my face, searching for signs of serious injury.

I tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm... fine," I managed, my voice hoarse. "Just a bit sore, I guess."
Minho's eyes darkened at the sight of my bruised and bloody appearance. "You're not fine," he said, his voice tight. "You're hurt, and those assholes had no right-"

Without thinking, driven by an overwhelming mixture of pain, fear, relief, and something else I couldn't quite put into words, I interrupted Minho's rant by surging forward and pressing my lips onto Minho's.
For a moment, Minho froze. He clearly hadn't expected this, taken aback not only by the kiss but also by the sudden burst of emotion from me. But then, slowly, Minho relaxed, his lips moving against mine in a gentle but firm response.

The kiss deepened, both of us lost in the moment, the pain and chaos of the previous few minutes melting away. Minho's hands came up to cup my face, his touch soothing and possessive at the same time.
I whimpered softly, wrapping my arms around Minho's neck, pulling him closer, wanting to melt into him completely. My heart was racing, so loud I could hear it pounding in my ears.

Finally, we broke apart, panting slightly, our eyes locked. For a long moment, neither of us said anything, each of us trying to process what just happened.
Minho's hands were still on my face, his thumbs rubbing small, almost soothing circles on my cheeks. He looked at me with a mixture of surprise and... something else. Something that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.
My fingers were clutching Minho's shirt, holding on like a lifeline.

My throat was dry, my tongue feeling thick. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "I-I-" I started, only to be cut off by Minho's finger on my lips.
"Shh," Minho whispered. "Don't think. Just... don't think."
My heart was beating wildly, Minho's touch sending jolts of electricity through my entire body. I did as I was told, my mind emptying of all thought.

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

Lee Minho's POV

I knew I should stop this, should push Jisung away and say something - anything. But I couldn't. The feeling of Jisung's lips on mine, the way the younger boy was clinging to me like he'd drown if he let go, it was too intense, too intoxicating to think straight.
I ran my fingers through Jisung's hair, the strands silky smooth, my other hand holding onto Jisung's waist, pulling him closer.

Part of me was still in disbelief. Just minutes ago, I was beating up assholes for laying a hand on Jisung, and now, I was holding him impossibly close, our bodies pressed flush together, tasting him, breathing in his scent.
But my mind was too fuzzy to care about the contradictions. All I could focus on was Jisung, the taste of him, the way he trembled slightly, the soft, needy mewling sounds he made against my mouth.

Suddenly, we were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us. Both of us jerked apart as if burned, I reluctantly pulled away to look at the newcomer.
Standing in the doorway was Mr. Kim, the maths teacher, looking at us with a mix of shock and confusion. He took in the scene in the room - the state of Jisung, me hovering over him, the disarray and signs of a fight.
"What in the world happened here?" he asked, his voice cutting through the tension.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Dammit, this wasn't how I wanted to be found.
I struggled to find words as Mr. Kim looked at me, waiting for an explanation. I couldn't very well say 'oh, I just had my tongue down my best friend's throat', now could I?
I glanced at Jisung. The younger boy was still sitting on the floor, looking shaken and a little dazed, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

Mr. Kim followed my gaze, his confusion growing. Then he seemed to take in the state Jisung was in, the marks and bruises on his face and neck. His expression hardened.
"Minho, help Jisung up," he said, his voice firm. "We're going to the nurse."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I grabbed Jisung's hand, helping him to his feet. Jisung stumbled a bit, wincing in pain. I instinctively put an arm around him for support.

The three of us made our way out of the classroom, Mr. Kim leading the way. I kept a steady hand on Jisung's waist, guiding him along, trying not to let the weight of Jisung's body against his affect him too much.
Jisung was quiet, his eyes downcast, his breath still coming in soft pants. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the awkward silence, but I was afraid of what might come out.

We turned into the corridor leading to the nurse's office. The sound of our footsteps echoed off the walls, the silence between us growing heavier.
I stole a glance at Jisung. The younger boy was still leaning against me, his steps small and shaky. The sight filled my chest with a tight, possessive protectiveness. I had to resist the urge to just sweep Jisung off his feet and carry the boy.

Finally, we reached the nurse's office. Mr. Kim pushed open the door, leading the way inside. The room was bathed in soft light, the faint smell of antiseptic hanging in the air.
The nurse, a middle-aged lady named Mrs. Park, looked up at our entrance. She took in Jisung's battered appearance, her eyes widening.
"My God, what on earth happened to him?" she exclaimed, hurrying over.

Jisung flinched slightly at her loud voice, and my arm tightened around him instinctively, pulling him closer.
Mr. Kim started to explain the situation, telling her how he'd found us in the classroom, the state Jisung was in. Mrs. Park's face darkened as she listened, her eyes flickering over Jisung's injuries.
She reached out, gently tilting Jisung's chin with her fingers, inspecting the bruises and cuts on his face.

Forced to let go of Jisung so Mrs. Park could examine him, I felt a pang of jealousy as the nurse ran her hands gently over Jisung's face and body. I knew I was being ridiculous. Mrs. Park was just doing her job, making sure Jisung wasn't seriously hurt.
But I couldn't help the irrational feeling of possessiveness. I didn't want anyone else's hands on Jisung, especially not if it was touching and inspecting him like that.

I stood there, watching as Mrs. Park fussed over Jisung, cleaning his wounds, applying ointment to his bruises. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my jealousy in check.
I'd never felt so conflicted before. Part of me wanted to push Mrs. Park away, to claim Jisung as my own. But I knew I had no right to feel that way. Jisung wasn't an object to be claimed or possessed.
The sight of Jisung, the way he flinched slightly with every touch from the nurse, made my heart ache.

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩