onho; fluff

Onew is addicted to taste Minho's lips...
 

…the bump of his small teeth, the brush of his tongue, the inexperience of whole action from both. He’s addicted to the rush, the energy and will to hold onto life, stay with this person. The clumsy caress of soft, blushing cheeks as they pull apart in awkward stammers, voices overlaying the other, sharing a perfect match of goofy smiles. 

Sometimes life was so hard, so unbearable, so cruel, he could throw it away, it wouldn’t matter. Who would wait for someone like him? Who would be there? Why should they be there?

Arms wrap around Onew in a reassuring hug, and he takes in a deep breath and warm touch of the younger’s body pressed to his, eyes slowly closing, hands hanging at his sides.

He’s addicted to the hope Minho radiates, somehow enough for the both of them while darkness surrounds.

With that newfound strength, his hands reach, pulling the hug in tighter, arms snuggly around Minho’s back. Maybe he could find a flicker, let it grow, someday be the one saving a life. Maybe that life would even be Minho’s.

“Thank you…”