When it's YOU || minsung

The sky was a smoky velvet when Minho stopped walking. Streetlights grew sparser as Minho walked, leaving behind the quiet country roads and stepping deeper into the forest, where branches tangled overhead and shadows thickened. The cool night air clung to his skin like guilt, his fingers curled tight in his jacket pockets, tense and aching, and his jaw locked each time he tried to breathe deeper than a shallow sigh.

Felix had followed him this far — quiet, patient, worried.

"You're close enough to see the porch light, hyung," the younger said softly, nudging his shoulder against Minho's. "You could just... go home."

Minho's lips parted, but no words came out. Just a dry breath.

Home.

The image flickered in his mind — warm lights, familiar walls, and Jisung curled up in the blanket they always fought over, waiting with hope barely clinging to his eyes. But Minho felt like an imposter. Like if he stepped back into that house, everything would unravel. Like he would unravel.

"I can't," he muttered at last. "Not yet."

Felix turned to look at him, his eyes narrowing with concern. "Minho..."

"Please. Just check on him for me," Minho said. "I know I'm being a coward. But he needs someone. And it can't be me. Not like this."

Felix didn't argue. He could see the cracks in Minho's resolve, see how much of it was fear disguised as distance. So he nodded and gave his hyung one last look before heading back.

Minho didn't watch him go. He just turned and walked.

Deeper into the night.

Felix didn't call after him. He just sighed and started back home, already pulling out his phone to text Chan.

"He's not coming home. Something's really wrong. Jisung needs someone with him now."

The bar was too loud, too bright, too full of things Minho didn't want to feel. Music throbbed through the floor, bass-heavy and empty, while strangers danced too close and laughed too loud.

He sat at the counter, drink in hand, watching the ice melt in his glass like time slipping away. The burn of whiskey didn't calm the storm inside him. It only dulled the edges. That was all he wanted — to stop feeling.

That's when she appeared.

The omega was magnetic. Tall, sinuous, dressed like trouble and smelling like sin. She perched beside him with a confident smirk, eyes sweeping over him like a challenge.

"You look like someone with too many thoughts," she purred, leaning closer, the scent of her perfume twining with her pheromones. "Let me help with that."

Minho didn't move. He didn't even flinch when her fingers traced the line of his jaw.

He was too tired. Too drunk. Too full of fear.

The omega leaned in again, brushing her lips near his ear. "Come on, alpha. I won't bite—unless you want me to."

Minho closed his eyes. For a split second, he let the numbness take him. Let the scent of someone who wasn't Jisung wash over him.

But then he remembered Jisung's laugh. The way he curled up beside him and tucked his cold hands beneath Minho's shirt, whining about always being chilly. He remembered the way Jisung looked at him like he was worth something.

And Minho snapped back.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, suddenly breathless. "I can't do this. I shouldn't have come here."