The familiar feeling of utter panic overtook Jinki's body, and his eyes quickly opened up wide. He didn't even remember much of the nightmare, but it didn't really matter, the feeling remained, heavy and real, paralysing him completely.

He wasn't aware of how loudly he was breathing until his boyfriend stirred next to him. Without saying anything, Minho sat up, easily pulled Jinki up too and removed his big T-shirt, damp from cold sweat.

Then Minho pushed him over to his side of the bed, laid down in Jinki's spot, and pulled him close to his chest.

Like always, this calmed the erratic heartbeat in Jinki's chest, and before long he was breathing normally. He never knew why changing places worked, but it always did. The feeling of skin on skin also helped, his head lying on his boyfriend's strong chest. Out of habit, he reached over to his boyfriend's side, and let his hand run along the well shaped muscles, and along his big scar, reaching all the way down to his hip.

Once he was calmer, Jinki felt the familiar shame take hold of him. It didn't make sense for a grown man to get such intense nightmares. He had lived a normal life, in a normal house with normal parents and his iguana, free of any major trauma, but still he had these night terrors.

He felt like he should excuse himself, but he knew that Minho wouldn't like it. Like always he would tell him that this wasn't his fault and he shouldn't apologise. Minho was the one person who had never judged him, never criticised him for this, never told him to just get over it. Even the first time this happened when they were together, Minho had just held him, without making it into a big deal. Even though Jinki hadn't warned him that this could happen, even though he should have warned him, but he hadn't wanted his new boyfriend to know.

Years later, Minho still didn't make this into a big deal, which was probably the main reason for why the nightmares only happened a couple of times per year now, instead of almost every week.

Jinki still wished that they would happen less. Never. So he wouldn't be a burden on his perfect boyfriend. But now his thoughts were running along the wrong path, so to quiet them down, he allowed his fingertips to trace along Minho's big scar.

It started under his chest muscle, and ran down his side, with a couple of branches, some parts raised, some parts dipping into Minho's skin and Jinki knew every inch of it by heart, the familiarity of it soothing.

It had happened when Minho was fresh out of the police academy, years before they even met, but Jinki knew the story so well that sometimes it felt like he had been there, right next to Minho, when horrible criminals had ordered their trained vicious dogs to attack him.

Jinki's mind wandered to Minho's precinct, to the outdoor celebration last week when one of Minho's coworkers had retired. Jinki had been nervous, among so many new people, and he had touched the similar scar on Minho's forearm without even noticing. Until, one of the policemen's wives had talked to him in private, to tell him that he shouldn't focus on Minho's scar, that this would remind him of a traumatic event in his life, so he should stop not to cause him more pain. In the moment, Jinki had wondered why she was meddling into something that wasn't her business, and he had brushed it off.

But during the week, her words had echoed in his mind, whenever he touched Minho's scars, making him realise how much he did it, how he used them as a security blanket, even now, especially now.

Still feeling fragile after the very frustrating nightmare, Jinki started wondering if he really was making his boyfriend uncomfortable. The truth was that he had never even asked if Minho was okay with it. Jinki stopped his hand from moving up again, but immediately missed the feel of the familiar scar underneath his fingertips.

“Do you...” He started hesitantly. “Is it uncomfortable when I touch your scar?”

“No... not at all. Kind of soothing actually.” Minho chuckled lightly. “...Though I don't understand why you would want to touch that ugly thing.”

“Because I love it.” Jinki blurted out, stupidly.

“You... love it?” Minho seemed surprised, understandably so.

“I don't mean...” He mumbled awkwardly, realising how horrible that had sounded. “I don't like that you got hurt. Obviously I don't like that.” He lacked the words to describe how he felt. “I just... love that you healed. I really, really love that you healed, so that I could meet you, so that we could... you know.” His throat turned a little lumpy, so he stopped talking. He couldn't even imagine a life where he didn't get to meet Minho, where he had never heard his laughter, never got to fall asleep in his arms. That scar reminded him of how close it had been, how lucky he was. Being a policeman was a dangerous job, and it was comforting to know that even if Minho would get hurt, he could still heal again.

Lightly lifting his chin up, Minho looked at him, and gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

“What was that for?” Jinki muttered, slightly blushing, warmth spreading throughout his chest.

“Just when I think you can't get any sweeter, you...” instead of finishing the sentence, Minho kissed him again, even softer than before.

Not really understanding what was sweet about that, Jinki laid his head down on Minho's chest, mostly to hide his blush, but also in hopes of hearing his heartbeat.

“You really don't mind?” He confirmed, his fingers already itching for the touch.

“No.” Minho muttered drowsily.

In gratitude, Jinki gave him a short kiss on the chest, and then his hand moved over his boyfriend's body, to the scar, gently it, lulling himself into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.