Chapter Text
Placing the final piece of the tons of clothing, each needing to be sorted by color and style and folded, into the large compartment of the old wardrobe, which remained unchanged just like everything else in the house so as not to stray from its essence, he stood up, dusting off his knees where he had been crouching.
After smoothing his shirt as much as possible with his hand, he turned around. He turned toward Jisung, who was sitting at the desk the grandfather had placed in his room years ago, a desk likely older than both of their ages combined, focusing on the page in front of him with his curly dark brown hair, freckles scattered across his face, and pouted lips.
He watched Jisung for a few more seconds, whose eyes, which Minho would want to be buried in if they were earth, were focused, darting between the notebook open on the desk and the huge screen in front of him, he began to step toward him.
Joining his hands over his stomach, he leaned slowly toward the deep-in-thought Jisung once he was close enough.
"Little master..." he called out calmly. He smiled slightly when Jisung turned to him with his large eyes. "I've put away your clean clothes, if you need help while preparing for the trip, I'll come."
Jisung gave Minho a smile so large that his eyes narrowed and his pink lips took on that beautiful heart shape. There was nothing else he wanted from Jisung anyway, it was enough for him as long as he always looked at him so affectionately.
"Thanks, Minho, I'll call if I need help." he said in his cheerful voice.
Minho bowed his head and withdrew, leaving the room with heavy steps. He was sure that in an hour, Jisung would call him to pack his suitcase, and he would likely take out the clothes he had just put away and place them in the bag.
It had been eighteen years since Minho started working for Jisung's grandfather in this mansion. At only five years old, when his father threw him and his mother out of the house, he had found himself at this door in the middle of the night. He had already come here many times with his mother, but he didn't know that night that he would spend the rest of his life here. Though, he couldn't have imagined a better life.
The grandfather was very understanding, from the day he arrived, he looked after Minho as if he were his own grandson. The boundary of respect between them was never crossed, but it didn't prevent a bond of love from forming. Minho quickly got used to being a servant with his mother. It was the same as what he did for his father at home; only here, what he did was met with kindness instead of harsh words.
Everything was just like the day he arrived until his ninth year of living in the mansion.
That was until the house was plunged into long-term mourning upon receiving the news of the death of the middle son, whom the grandfather constantly complained about to Minho and his mother for not coming to visit. He and his wife had passed away in an accident while trying to make it to their son's school dismissal. For a long time, the grandfather cursed the words he had spoken to himself. His son's death affected him deeply.
Neither he nor his mother went to the funerals, they looked after the house while the grandfather was away. Minho didn't know the grandfather's family very well. He only knew that he had three sons and a daughter. He had calculated that there were about five grandchildren from the children who came to visit. Since the youngest and oldest sons were in the same city, they visited often, but the middle son couldn't come because he had married out of town.
Passing away in the place where he had moved and rebuilt his life always seemed sad to Minho. Especially after seeing how much the grandfather cried.
Minho was the one who fulfilled the grandfather's longing for a grandson, the mansion was not just a workplace for him but also a roof to take shelter under, a pillow to lay his head on, and a school where he learned about life. But the most important thing he learned in the mansion was to be understanding.
That's why, after the younger lost his family and was left alone and brought to the mansion at the grandfather's request, without listening to any other relatives, Minho never approached him coldly.
He was only twelve when he first arrived at the mansion. Even though the age difference between them seemed small, it created a world of difference. Or that difference was the very class inequality between them.
The grandfather had gone alone and brought back two more people with him. The grandmother, who had gone on vacation to visit her children, and the boy Minho had placed right in the center of his life.
He was silent the first day he arrived, not a single word came out of his mouth to anyone. Minho had started calling him "Little Master" because he heard it from his mother's mouth. He wouldn't even look at Minho out of the corner of his eye, when the grandfather sent Minho to his side to play, he would get up and go to his room, and when someone came to tidy his room, he would run to the garden.
For a long time, Minho thought he was a shy child. He tried to get as close to him as possible so as not to upset the grandfather and grandmother, acting with enough sincerity not to exceed the limits of his service. But when they did start talking, he didn't receive the reciprocation of the kindness he gave. The boy in front of him constantly ordered him to go away, didn't like the cleaning and arrangements he made in his room, and acted as if he were bothered by Minho's presence.
Minho had etched into his mind that he was one of those typical rich kids who got caught up in the air of his money and saw himself as superior. None of the work he did was liked, his friendship was not wanted, and his presence was treated as an excess. For this reason, after a while, he gave up his efforts at friendship, he didn't need to be friends with this boy who had newly arrived at the mansion or establish a bond like the one with the grandfather or mother.
No one asked him to be close to the boy who came to the house anymore, and he was not disturbed so as to fulfill the desire of the boy, who barely spoke two words, to be left alone.
He would go from his room to the back garden of the mansion, most of the time just sitting under the huge trees and staying there for hours, not meeting people except for meals, and not saying a word to anyone except his grandfather and mother.
Minho now only dealt with tidying and cleaning his room and leaving the meals he didn't join at the table in his room. He went out to the back garden as little as possible, fulfilling the "Little Master's" wish to be alone. He was quite comfortable, his ears weren't being rung like in the beginning for not fulfilling the wishes of this boy younger than himself.
He didn't blow it out of proportion in his mind, if it was going to stay this way until the end of his life, he could get used to the presence of this person who was in the house but not really there. Perhaps because his friendly behavior wasn't wanted, or because he was the first person to treat Minho rudely after all this time living in this mansion, he didn't try to love him. He tried to ignore his existence, just as he wanted.
After about four months of isolation, the little boy began to show his face. He would sit at the dinner table and speak with the servants in the house, even if it was just a single word. Except for one person: Minho.
He could never understand this issue he had with him. After he started talking, the grandfather called Minho to his side and assigned him to speak with the boy. But all of Minho's attempts resulted in "Stay away from me!", "Don't come near me!", and a cold "Go." thrown into the air. However, whenever the grandfather heard the answers Minho received, he became even more satisfied and kept saying the same thing to Minho.
"Don't worry, Sungie loves you."
"But sir... whenever I go near him, he doesn't want me."
"Don't you worry, Minho, you'll understand what I mean soon."
He couldn't understand, even though the conversations were repeated dozens of times and every opportunity he tried to get along with the boy increased, the youth's hatred toward Minho seemed like it would never subside. If the grandfather hadn't wanted it, Minho would never have tried to talk to the boy after the first day. Because there was no need. If he wanted to see himself as better, he could. Minho didn't need to be on good terms with everyone in the house to be peaceful. As long as he was like a grandson in the eyes of the grandfather, he didn't care much about his relationship with a newly arrived brat.
It was during one of the hours when the boy probably was in the back garden again that, at his mother's request, Minho entered the "Little Master's" room to dust. He had always found the furniture in this room, twice the size of his own, to be too large for a twelve-year-old child. He had even considered that this might be the reason for the coldness he encountered.
After a few steps into the room and the closing of the door, the living room noise was cut off, and the whole room fell into silence. The only thing crowding the atmosphere was the sound of footsteps advancing toward the desk Minho approached to clean and...
A crying as broken as the silence.
When he reached the desk, he heard a short sob and turned his head to the right, and there he saw the person sitting by the edge of his bed, huddling his knees with his hands and pulling them to his chest, crying.
Jisung.
There was a sadness in his eyes that he had never seen before, in the tears flowing down his red cheeks. Minho had frozen for a moment, with the shock of the scene he was experiencing, he had forgotten what he was supposed to do, perhaps even his own name. He watched the boy crying before him with large eyes for minutes. It was impossible for him not to have been noticed, but not a single word came from either of them. However, this accustomed silence did not last long, the boy in front of him slowly turned toward him.
"Minho..."
Perhaps it was because of the cold responses he had been met with until then that he bowed his head the first time his name fell from those pink lips. "If you don't want to be disturbed, I'll come back later, Little Master." he said in a clear voice.
After the lack of an answer for seconds and the silence that expanded as if it would swallow him, Minho raised his head.
Through his curly hair, that dark earth looking at Minho as if begging with eyes shining with tears. Those trembling lips, pouting and painted in the most beautiful pink he had ever seen. And his heart, increasing in speed in his small body for a reason he couldn't understand.
"Why are you constantly following me around?" Jisung asked.
Minho parted his lips but couldn't find his voice, it was as if he had swallowed all his words. He didn't have an answer he could give anyway. What could he say to the boy looking into his eyes with pain? Your grandfather and mother are forcing me.
Don't be ridiculous.
"I didn't understand-" he swallowed. "Little Master..."
"I'm trying to push you away from me, but no matter what I do, you still come." The tears flowing from Jisung's eyes made his face shine in the moonlight hitting the room, revealing his freckles that Minho hadn't noticed before. "I'm not good for you, Minho, you should stay away from me..." his voice grew even smaller toward the end of his sentence.
Minho slowly raised his bowed head and looked at the boy standing before him once more. "You're not good for me?" Jisung nodded slightly, the trembling of his lips slowing down. "How so, Little Master?"
"Everyone who tries to reach me dies, don't you die too, Minho..."
The lips from which the words he heard emerged were distracting him. In his short fourteen-year life, he had heard hundreds of things previously claimed to be cursed. Houses, belongings, paintings, babies, lives... Fortunately, he hadn't believed in any of them, he knew they were all made up of invented lies. But he wondered why Jisung believed he himself was cursed.
"Why should I die, Little Master?"
"Because every- everyone dies. Don't you die." A few more tears flowed from Jisung's eyes. Minho collapsed onto one knee where he was. He was about to ask again what he meant when Jisung started before him. "My mother and father died while coming to get me. My dog was run over while running to me. My friend was sick, he got worse after saying he would come to play with me. He died too. Everyone around me dies while trying to reach me. I was going to be the one to approach after pushing you away from me, but you don't let me. You're constantly after me."
Minho remained with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Was it normal for a twelve-year-old child to think such a thing? And, he just said he would be the one to get close to Minho.
Worried that he might be dreaming or something, he blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, and opened them again. Everything that was happening was real, and Jisung was still sitting across from him.
When the eyes looking at him filled with tears again, Minho realized he had to break the silence that had filled his mouth. "Little Master, what are you saying? It's not because of you that these things happened to you."
"No..." Jisung snapped. "They died because of me, it all happened because I said 'come'." Minho's heart shattered when he saw Jisung's eyes shedding tears again when they closed. "If I hadn't said that to them-"
"Little Master."
Jisung opened his eyes and looked at Minho again.
"There's no need to blame yourself. Yes, the things that happened may seem that way to you, but you don't control the things happening around you. Please don't blame yourself for everything that happens to you. No matter how painful it is, it means that was the length of the lives of those around you."
He tried to comfort Jisung as much as he could with his child's mind. To tell the truth, he didn't know what he was saying either. If there was one thing he knew at that moment, it was to stop Jisung's crying and make him stop blaming himself.
After the boy in front of him sniffled a few times, he wiped his wet face with his arm. Minho was about to stand up to bring a handkerchief when Jisung patted the empty space right next to him with his hand. Their eyes met while he thought he had misunderstood what was being asked of him. This time, Jisung showed the empty space next to him with his eyes, smiling.
Minho saw Jisung's smile there for the first time. That beautiful line where his bottom lip, fuller than his upper lip, took shape. Also, Minho felt his own heart move there for the first time. He slowly moved himself to the place Jisung indicated. There was a certain gap between them, a gap Minho was always aware of, but that evening it turned into its shortest form.
Before he could get used to the presence of the body next to him, Jisung completely closed that distance between them. He pressed their bodies together and introduced Minho to an unfamiliar but peaceful warmth.
"Minho." Jisung called out again.
"Yes, Little Master?"
"If you're not going to die, will you hold me?"
When Jisung turned to him with his large eyes waiting for the answer to his question, he could only nod. When he lifted his arm, which he held between them, and wrapped it around Jisung's shoulder, the only things he thought about were Jisung's warm body, Jisung's head falling onto his own shoulder, and the sweet scent reaching his nose.
They sat on the floor together until Jisung fell asleep on his shoulder. When Jisung's light and rhythmic breathing reached his ears, Minho lifted the younger one and laid him in his bed. He fixed the hair falling on his face, pulled up his duvet, and wiped the tear marks on his face. He ran his fingertips over the freckles covering Jisung's cheeks and nose. Then he slowly withdrew, did his job after taking the duster, and left the room.
From the next day on, Jisung started coming to Minho's side at every opportunity. Now he was taking Minho under the trees in the back garden, calling Minho to his room to play with the new toys the grandfather bought, and eating meals in the kitchen with the servants next to Minho.
With each passing day, the relationship between him and Minho grew closer. The grandfather and grandmother were becoming even happier. The silence that had lasted for months in the house was filled with Jisung's laughter and cheerful states, and the atmosphere began to feel like a family again. But alongside these feelings returning to his life, new sensations that covered his entire body had appeared in Minho's form.
Every time his eyes met Jisung's, his nerves jumped, his skin burned even at the slightest contact of their flesh, the things Jisung said to him became a radio in his ears every night. Minho didn't realize the seriousness of what he was experiencing inside until he was eighteen. He understood the risk he was taking after becoming an adult, being considered a high school graduate through private lessons he took with the grandfather's support, and a short conversation he had with his mother.
His feelings for Jisung couldn't be more than they should be. In the end, he was a servant working for Jisung, and Jisung was the eldest male grandson of a wealthy family. The authority and class difference between them would always be high enough to scare Minho. There was no guarantee that his feelings would be reciprocated either. Jisung was younger than him, he might even see him as an older brother. Therefore, Minho tried to suppress his feelings as much as possible.
But every passing day, Jisung seemed to find a way to make Minho fall even more in love with him.
If there was something he bought for himself, he would soon buy the same for Minho and the other servants. He helped with cooking in the kitchen, tidied his own room himself, and studied like crazy. He was constantly asking Minho about the things he liked and surprising him with things he would love.
After learning what Minho's favorite animal was, he had even convinced the grandmother to let a cat into the house. As much as he struggled, Jisung always found a way to expand his place in his heart. As they grew up in the mansion, the differences in their lives were diminishing, with each passing day, Jisung was acquiring habits. He didn't like this situation.
Because now he was twenty-three and Jisung was twenty-one, the grandfather had said he needed to learn about business life and sent Jisung to an internship in a distant city. It was a source of pride for Minho that Jisung would find a job and stand on his own two feet. Except for the fact that he would be leaving the mansion.
The internship was only for two months, according to what Jisung said, after going there and getting his certificate, he would be able to transition to larger companies. At first, Minho wondered why he didn't just start working directly since he had so much money, but Jisung had never relied on his money to neglect his studies or be lazy. This was another reason why Minho fell in love with Jisung. He was always fair, never cheated, and sometimes even lost on purpose just so others wouldn't be sad, even if he was going to win.
He felt more suffocated the more he thought about it. Perhaps he had no right, but he didn't want Jisung to go. And if he spoke up, Jisung probably wouldn't go, which is why he couldn't share his thoughts. Even if it was only for two months, being apart from Jisung seemed like too much. The only time they had been apart was when the grandfather sent Minho to a summer camp for two weeks four years ago. He opened the kitchen door with anxiety gnawing at his chest.
He saw his mother taking out a cake stand from the refrigerator, one so large it occupied a quarter of the counter space, making anyone else think they were feeding a tribe. Seeing her struggling to keep the door from closing with her back, he walked over with quick steps and held the door.
Feeling the door on her back suddenly give way, his mother turned around with a surprised expression and met Minho's smiling face. The smile that came to her face lifted the weight in Minho's chest, if only a little.
"Minho-ya! My handsome son, where have you been again?" As usual, his mother started walking without waiting for him to answer, leaving Minho at the refrigerator door.
Though Minho wondered how she never grew tired of persistently asking questions she already knew the answers to, he followed her until she placed the cheesecake, large enough to feed the whole family twice over, onto the island in the middle of the kitchen. After carefully arranging the items on the island as if she weren't going to take them to the table, she moved to put the dishes in the sink.
"I was placing Jisung's clean clothes in his wardrobe. He'll call again soon, he needs to pack his suitcases, and you know without me-"
"He can do it, Minho."
His face fell as his mother cut him off. "He's twenty-one years old now, Minho. You don't need to follow him around even when he's just taking a step."
Years ago, when he told his mother he liked Jisung, he hadn't guessed that the issue she would be angry about wouldn't be that he was gay, but that he liked Jisung.
Actually, when you thought about it, it was logical, falling in love with the grandson of the man you were a servant for. If he declared his feelings and was rejected, there was the possibility of being fired. And the problem wasn't Minho being fired, it was the possibility that his mother could be let go too.
"Besides, didn't I tell you not to say 'Jisung'?" his mother whispered, checking her surroundings. "You shouldn't address him as anything other than 'Little Master'."
"He's the one who tells me to call him 'Jisung', Eomma, and besides, I address him that way anyway."
"You still be careful, you know I only want what's best for you." His mother stroked Minho's cheek with her hand, with a look in her eyes that both cornered him and opened an escape door.
His mother didn't mind him being too intimate with Jisung until he declared his feelings, but since that conversation, she was trying very hard to make sure he didn't misunderstand anything Jisung did and to not risk both of their lives.
"Okay, mother." he said, pulling his face back until her hand fell away. Ignoring his mother's light gaze, which was stained with a bit of disappointment, he moved to the dirty dishes she had just left in the sink.
Even though he didn't want to take an attitude toward his mother, it bothered him that she thought Minho would misunderstand everything Jisung did and wouldn't even let him be happy for a few minutes. Minho had no right to think that Jisung liked him. Jisung could have anyone he wanted in this life. He was beautiful, sweet, kind, smart... and most importantly, he was rich.
He was from a prestigious family line. Minho, on the other hand, was a servant doing chores.
After putting on his gloves, he began to wash the first dish that came to his hand. As he started to struggle with his thoughts, he heard his mother let out a deep breath behind him.
If his life could have been the way he wanted, he would have wanted to be the son of a rich family. Not because of money or things he could own, but if he were the child of a rich family, maybe he could have made Jisung fall in love with him, maybe they could have gotten married, maybe he could have confessed his love to Jisung years ago. And maybe he wouldn't be afraid to be together.
While rinsing the last of the dishes, he heard the sound of the door opening behind him and the sound of footsteps that immediately grew faster and closer. He was just about to turn around when he came nose-to-nose with a Jisung looking at him with large eyes close to his face. "Easy work! Minho, are you finished?"
He tried to stand still without moving a muscle so as not to move away from the spot and the proximity he was experiencing.
"Thank you, Little Master. Did you have a request...?" His mother shot an admonishing look toward Minho. His mother seemed to be the only person in the entire mansion who found their closeness exaggerated.
"Yes, I want Minho."
Minho couldn't help himself, he laughed lightly. While Jisung examined Minho's face with that cute expression and furrowed brows, both of them jumped in place at a sudden noise rising from behind them. When they turned around at the same time, they saw that his mother had accidentally (on purpose) dropped one of the containers in her hand onto the counter.
While shooting warning glances at his mother after putting his gloves away, he started to move from his spot as he was pulled by his arm. "I'm taking Minho! Sorry!" Jisung shouted as he walked.
He ignored the looks his mother threw behind them as they left the kitchen door and let Jisung drag him all the way to his room. When they reached the room, the only useful thing Jisung had done was place his suitcases open on the floor. The clean clothes Minho had folded and put away just an hour ago, and all the remaining clothes, had been taken out onto the bed. And Minho knew what was going to happen.
Jisung's outfit show.
Minho sat on the floor right in the middle of the suitcases. The deal was this: whenever Jisung was going somewhere that required a change of clothes, he would make Minho sit in front of him before going and have him prepare all his outfits.
It seemed that the same time had come again. Normally, he loved making outfits in front of Jisung's silly movements and answering "yes" to everything he said because everything looked good on him. But it was breaking his spirit that he wouldn't be able to see Jisung for two months after this.
Perhaps it was foolish to be this attached, or selfish not to want to be away even for a short time. But that's what Jisung did to Minho. Now Jisung's absence gave Minho pain, Jisung had become a part of him.
A place where he felt comfortable, his vacation home.
"Minho, are these two good?"
After shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts that muddled his mind, he raised his eyes from the floor to Jisung. He was looking into Minho's eyes, holding a white shirt for his top, a hat squeezed between his fingers, and black cargo pants for his bottom. Minho still didn't understand why these pants were called cargo. He also didn't understand why they were sewn baggy enough to fit two people- though, at Jisung's insistence, the work clothes of the male workers in the mansion had also been changed to baggy pants.
He didn't even need to look at the pieces in his hands to answer, everything Jisung wore looked good anyway. This was one of the things that made Minho lose his mind, how Jisung could remain the most beautiful person in the world no matter what he wore.
"Yes, they're good, Little Master." he said for that reason. The smile Jisung wore as he threw the items in his hands into the suitcases on the floor was bright and beautiful enough to make all the flowers in Minho's heart bloom.
He started taking the clothes that fell in front of him, folding them, and placing them in the suitcase. While Jisung continued to make his outfits, he was also adding his own ideas.
Even though Minho approved of everything he said, he still sometimes changed his mind, left what was in his hand, and matched it with other pieces. Minho, on the other hand, watched Jisung's face from where he sat, arranging the pieces that fell in front of him.
After the suitcase was filled with enough outfits to satisfy Jisung, he left his wardrobe and walked to his desk. While Minho waited where he was, Jisung gathered his textbooks into his arms. Jisung being very hardworking also affected Minho.
When he was little, he too had received private education in the mansion with the grandfather's help, but it couldn't be said that his mind worked excessively. Despite having taken the same lessons from the same teachers, the fact that Jisung was so smart made him even more priceless in Minho's eyes.
It was something he already knew he couldn't have, he was aware he didn't deserve it.
Jisung returned with more than ten books in his hand. He leaned next to the empty one of the suitcases, one of which was full and the other half-full of clothes. This time, he placed them himself without letting Minho do it, and without losing much time, he quickly stood up again and went back to the desk.
He took out a few items he found every time he reached onto the old desk where he had started rummaging through the drawers. Thinking he had taken everything he needed to take, he closed the drawer and started carrying back all the items on the desk, cradling them in his arms.
When Minho noticed there was no room left in the first part of the suitcase, he unzipped the closed section so he could place what was in Jisung's hands. Jisung opened his hands and dropped what was in his lap into the space in the lid.
This time, without leaning down to put them in a certain order, he stood up again and ran to the bathroom in his room. While Jisung was getting his things from inside, Minho neatly arranged the items that had just fallen in front of him.
When Jisung returned, he was cradling grooming products this time. But this time Jisung leaned down and placed them himself, just as he had with his books.
While placing the materials, he noticed that a few products given to him and the other servants were also with Jisung. It was probably one of the things he decided to distribute as gifts after using and liking it himself. The fact that he thought of those in the house -even if they were servants- and bought expensive gifts with the money the grandfather gave him to spend on himself made the smiles grow on Minho's face.
After Jisung squeezed one last product into the final gap, Minho prepared to get up. "Was there anything else you wanted me to help with, Little Master?"
After glancing at the suitcases once more, Jisung raised his head and looked at Minho with his eyes shining through his curly dark hair. "No, there isn't, thanks, Minho." he said, smiling as he said his name. Minho also smiled, bowed his head, and stood up.
But as he stood there, a sudden pain pierced his heart, which had increased in speed. From tomorrow on, he wouldn't see Jisung for two months.
Tearing away from him seemed unbearable even for this short time. He would probably help carry the suitcases to the car when he left the mansion in the morning, but he also wanted to say goodbye while they were alone.
He knew Jisung wouldn't say no, but showing closeness felt like an exaggeration to him now.
As his mother said, they weren't children anymore. They no longer ran around holding hands while walking in the garden, Jisung no longer wanted him to hold him when he retreated to his room and called Minho to his side, he no longer occasionally worried because he was afraid he would die and avoided him until Minho convinced him.
They didn't play with his toys, draw pictures together, or study. They were still the closest ones in the huge mansion, he knew they valued each other more than anyone else, but the way they grew up with distance between them overwhelmed him.
Jisung had grown up enough to no longer need Minho. He didn't want him to stay small forever, but he knew he couldn't live without him. However, he knew Jisung could continue his life without Minho. If he got a job and moved after his internship, he could handle his own business or get himself another servant.
He was sure that if someone else started working for him, he would fall in love with Jisung too. He didn't know anyone who deserved to be loved more. In Minho's eyes, he was someone everyone in the world should love.
Realizing that he was confusing his mind further and spoiling his mood, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he was about to open his mouth to give a special goodbye, but Jisung started before him.
"Minho, when are you going to get ready? It's quite late."
Unable to understand the question directed at him, Minho blinked a few times and tilted his head to the side. "What am I going to get ready for, Little Master?"
Jisung raised his head from his suitcase and looked at Minho. It must have been too obvious from his face that he didn't understand, because after a short laugh, Jisung answered with that heart-shaped smile still on his face.
"How can I go to another city for two months?" He also tilted his head to the side with an expression on his face as if Minho were being silly. And he added, "Without you."