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Minho pushes the door so hard it smacks against the wall behind it. Jisung’s not there. But just about every pillow and blanket they own is. Minho recognizes the cover from his own bed, his fucking pillow, the faint scent of his own pheromones just beneath the surface of Jisung’s nearly overwhelming scent. He pulls out his phone and calls Jisung. Counts the rings, one, two, three, four, ending the call before it can go to the voicemail Jisung never checks.
He calls again. One, two—
“Get over here right now.”
“Hyunjin?” Minho pulls his phone back. Did he accidentally call Hyunjin instead? No, it says he called Jisung. “Why are you answering Jisung’s phone?”
Then he hears it. A barely muffled whine. He’d recognize that whine anywhere. -
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6/6 (end :’)