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Han Jisung was stressed.
Actually, after glancing over to find Minho instigating what looked to be an intensely competitive shadow boxing match with Lix, swerving and dodging and hopping around on his good leg, Jisung decided that “stressed” was an understatement.
“Hyung,” he whined, exasperated. “Hyung, please be careful…”
Pausing the game, Minho simply looked at him with a half smile forming across his face. How was he acting completely normal? Jisung was sure that that was not the doctor’s orders.
“I’m fine, Sung-ah,” Minho repeated for probably not even the third time in the last half hour. Jisung only sighed and stepped closer, his hand lingering awkwardly just behind Minho’s back. Why was no one else worried? His ankle was sprained.
The boys resumed their game, and when Minho almost lost his balance from a particularly enthusiastic swing, Jisung’s hand all but shot out to grab at the older boy’s upper arm.
Yeah, maybe the grip was a little tighter than necessary. Yeah, Minho probably would have righted himself in a split second anyway. And yeah, maybe Minho brushed off Jisung’s worried hand with a lighthearted giggle.
But Jisung was stressed and there was nothing he could do about that.
~
For the rest of the evening, Jisung followed Minho around like his shadow. To be fair, that was nothing out of the ordinary for the “chopstick” pair, except for the fact that usually it was Minho following Jisung around.
And except for the fact that Jisung’s hand seemed to have formed some sort of magnetic attraction to Minho’s lower back. Going up the steps onto the red carpet. Guiding him back to his seat. Following him onto the golf carts that transported them around the stadium. It never wavered.
And yeah, Jisung might have slipped in an extra gentle pat here and there, a protective hand around Minho’s shoulders, a little healing caress on his thigh. Was that the right leg? Oh well. Both were important to him anyway, Jisung decided.
Yes, Jisung took his role as number one Minho protector very seriously.
And he only grew more stressed as the night progressed. Minho was hobbling up and down those stairs no where near as carefully as Jisung would have liked. Actually, Jisung would have preferred he didn’t step foot on the stairs at all, upon second thoughts.
He would have to start working out more, he resolved.
Jisung could only be eternally grateful to whoever had convinced (forced…?) Minho to be sat down during their performance. Honestly, he thought he might have had a stress induced heart attack otherwise. Was that even a thing? He could always be the first, Jisung thought.
Finally, the event was over and Jisung felt some of the stress lift off him like a weight off his shoulders. He could take Minho home, where he would be safe and under his ever-watchful eye without anywhere to escape to, or any chaos to cause.
To Minho’s defense, he had definitely mellowed throughout the night. His worsened limp and small winces here and there had not gone undetected by Jisung. Every time Minho winced, Jisung also winced, and he could have sworn he was starting to feel pain in his own ankle because of it. In sympathy, or something like that.
And now his number one priority was getting Minho home to rest.
Of course Minho had noticed Jisung’s clinginess all night. In fact, he wasn’t sure he had not felt Jisung’s worried eyes burning into him for more than a minute at a time for the past six hours.
(Except for when Jisung had gone to the bathroom, right before 3racha won their award, but that was a different story.)
He had tried reassuring the younger boy that he really was okay, but it was obvious Jisung didn’t believe him and was not going to relax about it. Minho would never admit this out loud, but honestly it was quite nice to be looked after rather than being the one looking after for a change.
Big baby and little baby, or whatever.
So when Minho saw Jisung pushing through the other members, his face set in a determined frown, to get to Minho’s side, Minho only smiled fondly. God, was he cute.
“Hyung, let’s go.”
Minho let himself be guided by Jisung’s insistent hand on the small of his back, playing along. Realistically, it was doing nothing for his ankle, but he knew it was making the younger boy feel more relaxed, so he said nothing.
Plus, it was kind of reassuring. And very boyfriend of them. Minho liked that.
The younger boy had also insisted that Minho should not, under any circumstances, carry his own bag. Minho was not sure how an ankle injury affected his ability to use his arms, but Jisung was set on it, so of course he complied.
Which meant that Jisung was currently wrestling two relatively heavy bags, Minho’s along with his own, on one arm, making him lean precariously to the right as they walked. His left hand, of course, was preoccupied hovering protectively around Minho’s body.
It was all very endearing, Minho couldn’t deny.
So, he let himself be ushered into the car, the door opened in front of him before he could even think about lifting his hand. And then, somehow, Jisung had got in on the other side of the vehicle and was already reaching across him for Minho’s seatbelt before he could barely even blink. How had he done that?
“Sungie, I can-” he tried, but Jisung was swatting his hands away and strapping Minho safely in, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he did so. Minho couldn’t help but smile at that. It was fucking adorable.
Jisung nodded, satisfied, before dealing with his own seatbelt, and Minho had to look away to hide the smile that threatened to spread across his face. Oh, Jisung was serious about this.
If Jisung kept this up for much longer, he might actually die from the tooth-rotting cuteness of it all, Minho thought. Was that even a thing? He could always be the first.
“Hyung, sit.
Minho rolled his eyes dramatically but complied after Jisung shot him his very best smouldering death stare.
“What am I, your dog?” Minho joked. Jisung decided to ignore that remark.
The younger boy watched as Minho sank into the couch with a half sigh, half groan. He winced slightly as he accidently put pressure on his bad ankle whilst shifting into a comfortable position, and Jisung bit his lip, thinking.
“Did the doctor say to heat it, hyung? Or, wait! Was it ice? Do you have pain medication? I’ll get it for you.” Jisung knew he was rambling. In his defense, he had never looked after someone with a sprained ankle before, and it was proving more difficult than he had imagined.
“It’s ice, bug. And yeah, but hey, I can ge-” The instant Minho made a move to get up from the couch, Jisung was all but pouncing on him.
“Hyung!” Jisung hissed, much louder than necessary, indignation colouring his voice.
“Hyung…” This one was whined, Jisung’s face forming an involuntary pout as he gently pushed at Minho’s shoulders until he hit the back of the couch yet again. Minho rolled his eyes, but the small fond smile on his face told a different story.
“I’m in couch jail, huh?
Jisung huffed. “I can do it for hyung. I’ll get it. You have to rest, remember?”
"Sure, bug."
~
First stop: the bathroom cabinet. Jisung rummaged around for a while before returning with both hands, the crevices of his elbows, and the space between his chin and his chest, all undeniably full.
“Han Jisung, are you trying to kill me off?” Minho exclaimed, eyeing the sheer amount of boxes of various pills Jisung had just dumped unceremoniously on the table in front of him.
“Yah! I just wasn’t sure which one to bring so… I brought them all,” Jisung shrugged sheepishly.
"Thank you, bug." Jisung blushed under the praise, scurrying off whilst mumbling something about "Ice pack…"
"Hey, wait a second! Jisungie?" Minho's voice followed him, stopping Jisung in his tracks.
"Yeah, hyung?"
"Before that, does hyung have permission to go and wash up and change?" Minho asked, a glint in his eye.
"…I feel like you're making fun of me."
But Minho had a point after all, Jisung thought, as looked down at himself, suddenly remembering he too was still dressed in the tight, uncomfortable and slighly sweaty leather he'd been in all day, hairspray sticky in his hair and eyeliner slightly smudged on his lids.
Jisung sighed. "Yeah, I guess I could do with washing up too."
"Wanna save water?" Minho wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, unable to stop the small grin threatening to spread across his face.
Jisung hit him.
As thick steam surrounded them and hot water gently stripped them of the harsh lines of makeup and deliberately placed strands of hair, soft features and damp curls were revealed to take their place.
Minho loved Jisung like this best.
Waking up next to him, his soft hair a wild mess, sticking up in all directions and falling in his squinting eyes. Just back from the gym, his t-shirt sticking slightly to the sheen of sweat still covering his chest, the hair at the nape of his neck damp and curling.
God, did he love that boy.
And so, just maybe, did he massage his shampoo covered fingers against Jisung's scalp for just a little bit longer than usual, watching as the younger boy's features relaxed from their worried little frown to pure contentment.
And if Minho snuck feather-light kisses in between gently scrubbing him down with the soapy suds, who could blame him?
A kiss on the forehead. Thank you for taking such good care of me, angel. A kiss on the tip of his nose. Hyung appreciates you so much. A kiss on his shoulder. You did well today. Another kiss, this time on Jisung's chest, right above where his compass tattoo lay. Love you, bug.
He didn't need to say them out loud. He knew his Jisungie understood.
Honestly, Minho was glad Jisung was letting him take back some control, even if it were just for the moment. He knew they both needed it. It had been a long and tiring day for Jisung, and Minho himself was evidently not good at sitting back and being doted on.
Although all the care and attention on himself was sweet, Minho needed his "looking after Jisung" time like oxygen. It was what felt the most natural to him.
Big baby and little baby, or whatever.
~
After much longer than necessary, they emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in towels.
"Hyung will be alright?"
Minho disliked the fact that Jisung's face was twisted with concern once again, the younger boy biting his lower lip worriedly. Minho wasn't good at serious situations.
"Hyung will be fine, bug," Minho reassured, ushering Jisung off down the hallway to his own room.
They slept together in Minho's room most nights: his was bigger after all. Jisung's room was all but abandoned across the hallway, acting only as his closet. When he wasn't borrowing Minho's clothes, that is.
Desperate to lighten the mood, once the idea had entered Minho's head, he just couldn't resist… Jisung's worried face was adorable after all. And the heavy mood hanging over them could do with a joke or two, right?
He waited a second or two for Jisung to take a few steps down the hallway, before executing his plan.
"Aagh!" he exclaimed, doubling over and holding his ankle with false drama, trying desperately to hide the grin on his face.
A gasp, and then Jisung was by his side almost instantly, grabbing onto his shoulders, which shook with his smothered laughter.
"Hyung! What happened, hyung? Are you okay?" Oh, Jisung's voice sounded broken with concern and he was already guiding Minho to sit on the edge of his bed before he could even process that Minho was…laughing.
Minho felt the moment Jisung realised, putting the pieces together once he had calmed down from the initial shock, in the way his hands dropped from Minho's shoulders to hand loosely by his sides. Minho looked up, and his smile vanished.
Jisung looked like he was about to cry.
Oh, Minho had fucked up. Seriously fucked up.
Jisung sniffed once before turning his back on Minho, starting to walk away with drooping shoulders.
"Hey! Bug, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. Hey, don't go!"
Minho rose from the bed, hopping forward to grab Jisung's wrist, spinning him back around to face him. Jisung's face was unreadable; he simply pushed at Minho's shoulders, guiding him to return to the bed.
"Hyung, please sit down." His voice was monotone.
"Baby, I-"
Jisung cut him off. "Look, hyung, I know I'm annoying and overbearing and whatever-"
"No, bug, no, I don't thi-"
Jisung continued despite Minho's desperate protests. "But I just wish," he was fighting for his voice not to crack, "I just wish you'd take your health more seriously, hyung," he finished, rubbing at his eyes frustratedly.
"Bug. Come here?" Minho offered, his voice tender. His knees parted, drawing Jisung into the gap created in between his thighs, caging him in gently with both his legs and his arms, which snuck around Jisung's waist, thumbing at his bare hip bones.
"You're not annoying. You're not overbearing. It's sweet, how much you care. I like it, bug." Minho brushed away a stray tear from Jisung's cheek with his thumb, watching his eyes carefully.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It wasn't funny."
Jisung's hand joined Minho's on his face, and their fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Jisung sighed deeply. "Actually, it probably would have been funny, on another day," he admitted with a bitter chuckle, his eyes still teary. "'M just tired and… stressed." Jisung shrugged.
Pulling him in closer and resting his head on the younger's chest, Minho hummed in agreement. "I know, 'm sorry, bug," he murmered.
They stayed like that for a while, Jisung's arms snaking around Minho's back as well, until Jisung's small sniffles subsided. Minho pulled away eventually, looking him in the eye, scanning his face until he was satisfied that the boy looked mainly just tired.
"I promise from now on I'll do everything you say, okay, worry bug? Couch jail and all."
Jisung raised him eyebrow at that. "What, forever?"
Minho snorted. "Maybe just for tonight, yeah?"
"Hyung, I'm going to cook for us."
Minho's eyebrows shot up at that. "Are you sure that's a good idea, bug?"
Jisung frowned. He knew he wasn't exactly renowned for his cooking capabilities, but that wasn't exactly the reaction he had anticipated (or rather, hoped for) when suggesting he try doing something nice for his hyung.
"Are you saying I can't cook?" Jisung whined, doing the little pouty face that he knew Minho couldn't argue with.
"'S not that, just thought you might be tired, bug. You don't have to do this for me, if it's easier to order in, you know."
As much as ordering did sound appealing, Jisung had made up his mind, and he wasn't about to back down from a challenge.
The challenge being: two packets of instant ramen.
Minho must have sensed Jisung's defensiveness and sat back on the couch. "Just call out if you need hyung's help with anything, okay?"
Jisung dismissed him with a wave of his hand, Minho's voice fading out as he left him behind in the living room, locating the stash of instant ramen in the kitchen cabinet.
Not for the first time, Jisung cursed the fact that his muscles were seemingly solely there for aesthetic purposes. Minho told him they were pretty, frequently, and Jisung liked that a lot. However, they were not at all helping him to tear open the ramen packets, which he wrestled with furiously for a good while before resorting to using his front teeth, and finally succeeding at defeating the plastic.
Jisung couldn't help the little satisfied nod and air fist pump that slipped out as celebration, and then felt a little silly. This was the easiest part, supposedly.
He filled a saucepan with water, only spilling a tiny amount as he carried it over to the stovetop. After eyeing it suspiciously, he made the executive decision to carry it back over to the sink and empty some of the water out. He didn't want a repeat of that incident, after all.
Satisfied, he left the water to boil whilst he searched the fridge for… well, whatever he could find that might work with instant ramen. Eventually he settled on eggs, and cheese: that couldn't go wrong.
A loud hissing sound alerted Jisung to the pan on the stovetop, which was now almost bubbling over (should he have used a bigger pan?), and he managed to remember to set the eggs down carefully on the side before rushing over.
Phew.
Jisung held the blocks of uncooked ramen by the tips of his fingers, and hovered cautiously over the bubbling saucepan.
"Agh!" He yelped, jumping backwards from the stovetop as he cradled his hand against his body. Despite his caution, the boiling water had splashed as he dropped the noodles in, sending up droplets that bit and stung at his poor hand.
"Bug? Is everything okay in there?" Jisung could hear that Minho was practically itching to come through and take over, but he had made a promise, and Jisung was going to make sure he didn't break it.
"All fine!" he called out with a grimacing smile, still shaking his burnt hand around as if it would somehow help.
In fact, it had started to sting less, Jisung realised. One last shake and he'd be right back on track-
Shit.
Jisung scrambled to try and catch the egg, but it had already rolled off the edge of the counter and hit the floor before he could begin to coordinate his hands enough to even make an attempt at rescuing the situation.
Fuck.
With a defeated groan, Jisung sank to his knees on the kitchen floor and began to clean up the mess off the tiles with the nearest cloth he could grab. Why did everything have to go wrong for him?
The feeling of sticky raw egg on his fingers was making him cringe so badly, but he bit his lip and worked on getting rid of it as quickly as possible. Gross.
When Jisung could finally wash the tackiness off of his hands, he let out a small sigh of relief, and turned to check on the ramen. At least now everything that was going to go wrong must have gone wrong already.
"Fuck. Fuck. How does that even…? What the fuck?"
The noodles were sat pathetically at the bottom of the saucepan, stuck. They must have soaked up all of the water and were now starting to release a distinct smell of burning into the air.
At least having the sense to turn the heat of the stove off, Jisung let out an even longer string of curses, Minho's laughter travelling through from the living room.
"Bug, what happened?" Minho asked, sounded mildly amused at the whole situation.
Jisung sighed, running his hand through his hair frustratedly. No, he wasn't going to get upset about this. He really wasn't.
"Messed up, hyung. Gonna have to start again."
His voice came out weak and wobbly. Pathetic, he thought. Can't even make instant ramen for hyung without fucking up.
"Baby, come here."
Jisung swatted at his bangs, which were suddenly sticking to his forehead and falling into his eyes in the most irritating way, and then rubbed at his stinging eyes furiously with the backs of his hands. He wasn't going to cry.
"'S okay, hyung, I can…"
Why were the lights so bright anyways? And why the fuck was it so hot? He was suddenly acutely aware of every point of contact between his clothes and his body and his palms were too sweaty and–
"Han Jisung. Come here."
That voice. Minho knew he couldn't disobey when he used that voice.
And that's when Jisung broke.
Minho met him halfway between the kitchen and the living room, taking him into his arms, gathering all of the pieces. Jisung barely had it in him to notice that Minho was up from the couch as strong arms enveloped him, and his now wet cheeks were pressed against a warm body. A solid, warm weight that Jisung clung to.
"H-hyung," he hiccuped. "Hyung, I'm crying over ramen. I-I know that's so pathetic, I know it."
At some point they had ended up on the floor in a sort of pile of limbs, Jisung's legs giving in, and Minho was now pulling Jisung further into his lap, closer to his body. "No baby, not pathetic. It's not that, is it, hm?"
Jisung shook his head sorrowfully as Minho gently stroked the strands of hair out of his face. Jisung felt like he could finally breathe.
"It's been a long day, yeah? You've done well, bug." Minho murmured.
The younger boy shook his head again adamantly, hiding his face. "Wanted to– wanted to do this for hyung, and– and it's so simple, but I couldn't even do one thing right." He knew his voice was louder than it needed to be, laced with frustration.
"Hey, shhh. Not true, bug. You know that. You've had a long day, and you need rest. Let hyung order in for us, yeah? I don't want my baby to be stressed." Minho's voice was soft but firm as he cradled the younger boy in his arms.
Jisung was quiet for a moment, focusing on the feel of Minho's fingertips tracing gently up and down his bare arms underneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. And then, after pushing down his stubborn pride, he granted Minho a tiny little nod.
"Fine," Jisung sighed. A short pause, and then, "But, hyung?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"I can actually cook ramen, you know that right? It just… wasn't working today." Jisung did feel the need to defend his pride, despite everything.
A quiet laugh sent vibrations from Minho's chest to his, and Jisung could almost hear the fond eye roll in Minho's voice. "Yes, bug, I know. The ramen gods were just kicking your ass today, right?"
"Something like that."
And so that's how Minho ended up with Jisung pressed warm and soft against his side, peering over his shoulder at Minho's phone screen, his hair tickling Minho's neck.
"Oh, hyung! Can we get fried chicken on the side? Please…?" His voice was pleading, a long and drawn out almost-whine. Minho didn't know why he bothered. He couldn't ever say no to Jisung anyway.
"Sure, sure." He added it onto the order with a tap, and then scrolled down until his thumbs were hovering over the desserts section. "Since 'Sungie looked after me so well today…?" Minho turned his head, their faces now just inches apart.
He watched Jisung's eyes widen in excitement like some sort of cartoon character. He was so fucking adorable.
"Hyung! Hyung, can we get cheesecake?" Jisung gushed.
Minho pretended to think about it, humming and tilting his head at an angle with a small smile on his face.
"Hyung, don't tease," the younger boy whined. "You know I don't play when it comes to cheesecake."
"I spoil you way too much. Spoilt bug." Minho muttered and poked Jisung in the ribs, earning a high-pitched shriek. But he added the dessert anyway.
"Love you, hyung~" Jisung sang, resting his chin on his hands and smiling sweetly up at Minho, who refused to make eye contact.
"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled, reaching over to set his phone on the arm rest, the food order placed and paid for.
"Hyung…" Jisung pouted. "Say it back."
"You already know."
It was Jisung's turn to prod Minho, this time on his bicep. "Say it anyway." God, was he whiny. It was adorable.
Minho couldn't resist any longer. He leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to the rounded tip of Jisung's nose. "Love you, bug."
Jisung hummed, satisfied, and cuddled up closer to Minho, drawing his legs up underneath himself as he always did. Minho turned his body more towards him, and watched as Jisung tilted his head back expectantly, his eyes fluttering shut.
Minho gave himself a few self-indulgent seconds just to stare. His eyelashes brushing against his warm, round cheeks, which were flushed so prettily pink. His plush lips, slightly apart, waiting. Expecting. Knowing.
Bracing his arm on the back of the couch behind Jisung's shoulders, Minho leaned forward, pressing a light, chaste kiss onto Jisung's awaiting mouth, before drawing away again, watching as Jisung desperately tried to chase his lips, eyebrows furrowing frustratedly.
That look on his face, it was that look that made Minho want to tease him, just a little bit. It was just too cute to resist. Practically asking to be teased.
But not for long.
Minho kissed the look right off his face. Their lips pressed together again, much more firmly this time, and Jisung felt so soft beneath him, so pliable, so responsive, his lips parting in a small oh as Minho dove back in for more.
Minho's arms encircled Jisung as he pressed small kisses to the corners of his mouth, littered them down his jawline, on the apples of his cheeks, his temples, before returning to the soft plush of his lips. Their mouths fitted so perfectly together, with Minho's fuller upper lip and Jisung's fuller lower lip, as if it had been designed specifically that way. Minho and Jisung. Jisung and Minho.
Without even meaning to, Minho's hand had ended up at Jisung's waist, stroking the curve of it as his mouth moved slowly on the younger boy's. Jisung's hands had come up to hold onto Minho's shoulders, the long sleeves of his t-shirt bunching up over his fists. At some point he had ended up almost in Minho's lap on the couch, his knee pressing firmly against Minho's thigh, and he didn't resist as Minho gently tugged him closer with the arm around his middle.
Minho was alternating small little kisses and delicate kitten licks on Jisung's lower lip, melting into the warmth and comfort of having him exactly where he wanted, when he suddenly felt Jisung gasp against his mouth before pulling away, much to Minho's disgruntlement. His lap suddenly felt very empty as Jisung shuffled backwards, his cheeks flushed and hair tousled.
"'Sungie, baby, what-"
But Jisung had his hand on Minho's thigh, his eyes wide with concern. "Hyung, I didn't mean to, I- did I hurt you? Are you okay?" The words tumbled out of Jisung's mouth, falling over each other in his haste.
Oh. Minho exhaled with a laugh as he realised.
"Baby," he began slowly. "You know it's only my ankle that's hurt, right? Not my entire leg?"
Jisung shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "Yeah well, it's like, all connected, right? Just didn't want to hurt you, that's all."
"Sweetheart, I am not going to let a sprained ankle interfere with me having a pretty boy in my lap letting me kiss him. Come back."
Jisung's face twisted in doubt for just a split second too long, and Minho was ready to reach out to grab his wrists and tug the boy back into his lap when he sighed and complied, albeit a little tentatively.
"Just tell me if I hurt you, hyung. Don't wanna hurt you," Jisung mumbled, slumping down against Minho's chest, caged in once again by his arms.
Minho smiled fondly. "I know, bug. You said."
But Jisung was only humming contentedly, nuzzling his cheek against Minho's chest as if he had never been gone.
"Pfft. You're just like Soonie when you do that. Soonie, Doongie, Dori, 'Sungie."
A pause, and then:
"…Meow?"
There was silence for half a second before they both simultaneously broke out into uncontrollable giggles, Minho playfully hitting Jisung's arm as he doubled over in hysterics. The sound of Jisung's laughter was only making Minho laugh even more, and before long he could barely even remember what was funny in the first place.
"Hyung, do you think we're sleep deprived?" Jisung asked once they had calmed down enough for their lungs to function again.
"Probably."
"Kiss me again?"
Definitely.
Jisung didn't need to ask twice. Minho was pulling at his shoulders immediately, holding him close and rejoining their lips.
They kissed like it was the most natural thing in the world. It felt like it, to Minho. His hand was cupping Jisung's face, fingers gently angling his jaw so he could have him in the exact way he wanted. The exact way he knew Jisung wanted, as well.
"Baby, my baby," Minho murmered against the boy's mouth in between kisses. "Did so well today, looked after hyung so well."
Jisung made a small noise against his lips, squirming at the praise. So fucking cute. The younger boy chased after his lips, and Minho gave him what he wanted.
"Hyung can say thank you to you properly, yeah? Later?" Minho said it as a half plea, half promise, their foreheads pressed together, hands trailing over the small of Jisung's back.
But Jisung drew back, appalled. "Hyung! Hyung, you can't say that, you're supposed to rest!"
"Yah! My ankle is sprained, not my dick."
Jisung hit him. Yeah, he probably could have seen that coming.
Minho was just opening his mouth to defend himself when the sound of the doorbell interrupted.
"Oh right, the food is here." Minho shifted Jisung, starting to move him off his lap and get up when he was pinned back down by a very fierce-looking Han Jisung.
"Don't you fucking dare."