Trust Me

*** 

It all started at the beginning of summer. It would seem that plants and animals are in the most active phase of life, and Jisung is the opposite. Gradually fades away and gets out of the house less often, slowly sinking deeper and deeper into himself.   His relationship with Minho wasn't perfect from the beginning. That is, at first there was a rush of tenderness and care, sometimes passion and even deep love, but after just a month the feelings weakened. Rather, their palpability began to disappear. Instead of affectionate good morning wishes and hugs at night, when they fell asleep in the same bed, there were only rare quarrels about and without, constant disregard and detachment. Minho began to move away. Getting cold. It was pretty harsh. Suddenly. So, one day he just didn't send this necessary "good morning" and a smiley heart next, and the next day he didn't come to watch a movie and cuddle at the same time. All their meetings were reduced to two days a week for the purpose of sex. At first, Jisung thought that he was being cheated on, then decided that Minho had problems in his life, then he completely took it personally, chasing after trifles every night. However, Minho didn't say anything about it and just continued to consistently come in the late afternoon twice a week, dragging him into bed from the very threshold. He stayed until morning, oddly enough. But he didn't hug or kiss in the middle of the night and in the morning. He answered questions coldly and dryly, immediately running away as soon as the topic came to their relationship. Jisung still didn't understand what was going on, just hoping that Minho needed time. And time passed. It was going fast. So fast that Jisung didn't even have time to realize how he hadn't left the house for the second week, and Minho hadn't come or even texted for three whole weeks. Overpowering himself, he finally cleaned himself up and went outside to drop in on Minho without warning and find out what the hell was going on.

***

Palms are sweating and arm muscles are tensing when Jisung knocks three times on the door of his apartment with a tightly clenched fist, really worried that they won't open for him. But he hadn't even had such thoughts before. Minho couldn't help but open up to him. It was something out of the category of fiction. And now... It was a cruel reality now. For almost two hours, Jisung sat near the door with the number thirty-nine engraved just above the peephole, igniting in his memories. He was almost falling asleep with tears on his eyelashes when he heard the sound of the elevator doors closing around the corner, followed by footsteps and the ringing of a bunch of keys in a velvet palm. "Jisung? What are you doing here?" Minho asks with a drop of concern, turning the key in the lock at the same time. "I came to see you. To talk." Jisung confesses in a strangled voice, reluctantly rising to his wobbly legs. "About what?" He lets him into the apartment and follows him in, without even glancing at the tear-stained face. "About us. About our relationship." He begins rather boldly, slowly walking into the depths of the apartment. "Is there something wrong with them?" Jisung mentally raises his eyebrows in surprise, because... Well, because it's not like that with them! Literally everything! And Minho doesn't seem to know at all and thinks that everything is fine with them. How is this possible?! "Well... You've started sending messages less often... And come too... Does it seem to me that something is wrong?" With the most interrogative intonation, he says, still sinking down on the sofa in the living room. "I'm just busy." Minho snaps, as if dipping his head into cold water. "Three weeks in a row without days off?.." Jisung timidly clarifies, in an attempt to make eye contact when he sits down next to him too. "I love you. However, trust me." He ignores the question posed and looks into the eyes as sincerely as possible, clutching his palms in his hands. "That's a lie." Jisung squeezes out in a breathless voice. "No, Sung-i, I'm telling the truth. I love you very, very much. Only you. You trust me, don't you?" Jisung realizes how difficult it is. Talk about relationship problems. To see a loved one tell you right in your eyes how desperately he loves you, and then disappear for almost a month, as if these confessions never happened. To see the lies in the bottomless eyes in which you drown over and over again. To feel the warmth of gentle touches, and the next morning to feel the cold of the second pillow. Choose whether to trust a sweet lie, or to reveal the bitter truth with guts. Jisung chooses to drown and never trust again. "You're lying to me, Minho. Your every word and action is a complete lie. You're just blowing dust in my eyes. I don't care what the reason is, but I'm not going to take it anymore. I'm tired, you know?! I warmed in my heart the dreams of our future and hoped that we would be together until old age, I loved you, you bastard, yes, I love you even now!.. And you just broke all my dreams, you broke my heart, you know?! No, sit down and talk normally, no, you'll avoid and only shout that I'm a stupid kid who still believes in Santa and unicorns! I really tried. I wanted to fix everything. I was giving you time. I asked you. I allowed a lot. I loved you," he chatters nonstop, not noticing how hot tears of resentment are running down his cheeks. "Lee Minho, let's break up?" Minho looks eerily calm. Listening to his speech, he only nodded occasionally and lowered his gaze, as if acknowledging guilt. But right now, his face doesn't look like he's going to apologize. "Sung-i, I'm sorry." He whispers softly, releasing his small hands from his own. Jisung wants to punch him in the mouth for such a pathetic tone and look, which makes him want to apologize himself. There is a feeling that it was Jisung who messed up and he realizes again how much he hates his love for Minho, mentally reminding himself that he is the victim here and cannot be trusted. You can drown, but you can't trust. Having drowned, he will no longer be able to trust, and having trusted, he won't be able to live normally. Therefore, he decides to choose the lesser of two evils and clings to Minho with a desperate kiss. It's like Minho was waiting for this, because he immediately takes the initiative and pulls on himself, forcing him to settle on his lap. He runs his fingertips along the shoulder blades, exacerbating those distant but insanely beloved memories in his head, reflected on the skin by a swarm of goosebumps that creep under the clothes as quickly as Minho's warm palms under a dark T-shirt soaked in tears. It feels so good to drown. It is pleasant to the point of burning annoyance under the ribs. "I love you, love you, Sung-i, I love you endlessly." Minho chirps affectionately, kissing salty streams from wet cheeks. Jisung wants to plug his ears so that he doesn't hear the words that cut too deeply into the living. Another couple of centimeters, and the knife will pierce through the heart, which will automatically transfer it to the very bottom. It's too fast. He wanted to drown for a long time. It was long and painful. Passing through every touch and word, so that never again... Never want to go back and trust. Minho still won't let up. Kisses on the nose and cheekbones, hugs gently around the waist under the T-shirt and whispers, whispers meaningless words of love. He barely has time to breathe between the endless "Love, love, love." And, nevertheless, he gets tired, exhaling heavily into the curve of his neck. "And you?.. Sung-i, do you love? Tell me. Do you love me? Come on, say it. It's important to me. Tell me how much you love me. I know you do. You love me, don't you?.." He is fighting in some hysteria, tightly squeezing the fabric of his T-shirt on the sides. "I'm not going to lie to you." He says in one breath, tenderly smoothing the unruly strands of dark hair. Minho looks at him with disbelief and disappointment, but nods, abruptly and without warning pulling off his T-shirt from his fragile body. "I love you, so I'll be gentle, as you love, Sung-i." With a small spark of hope in his eyes, warns, pressing his lips to his bare chest. Jisung finds it insanely touching, but decides not to comment, taking wet kisses to the ribs and collarbones with a sinking heart and heavy breathing. He is so hungry for these warm and gentle touches that every touch feels much stronger than usual. The body seems to substitute its sensitivity and vulnerability in front of a person for whom you don't want to be vulnerable at all. And Jisung can't do anything about it. He can't just push away or calm the nervous trembling in his body, as if he can't even say "no" right now. It's like Minho is the only person who can control his body. It's like only Minho knows all his weaknesses and points. As if only he could put the right pressure on them and achieve the desired effect. Like all he needs is Minho. "M-minho... I... Please don't hurt me anymore..." Jisung almost sobs, clinging tightly to his massive shoulders with his sharp nails. He almost immediately regrets what he said, because he was going to drown, not trust. And it seems that his ship floats up again, and the knife pierces through his heart three times, because something tingles in his chest, and it becomes easier to breathe again. "I won't do it, Sung-i, I'll never do it again. Trust me." He whispers in his ear, stroking his shoulder blades with warm palms. Minho lies so sweetly that Jisung feels like every touch brings him closer to trusting. He almost chokes on the air that comes out of his chest abruptly, because Minho too suddenly squeezed the hard peas of pink nipples between his fingers, making him sob from helplessness and the same vulnerability that Jisung loves and hates at the same time. He doesn't notice at what point he took the wrong turn and how they both end up completely naked, but Minho's unabashed gaze gliding smoothly over his body is sobering. "I didn't prepare." Jisung announces anxiously, timidly averting his gaze. "I'll prepare you, just trust me. You love my fingers, don't you? I know you love it." He whispers affectionately, fishing out a bottle of lubricant and a ribbon of four condoms from somewhere behind the pillows on the same sofa. Jisung is ashamed to admit it, but he really loves it. He loves the hell out of it. He loves it so much that in these three weeks he has managed to imagine Minho's fingers fifty times in place of his fingers, bringing to orgasm only with their length, let alone the tricks he did with them when they first started dating. This time they don't disappoint him again. The feeling of cool lubrication and slow stroking of sensitive edges is quickly replaced by the unbearable pleasure of stretching hot walls, enthusiastically squeezing their beloved fingers. Jisung really gets lost in his own moans and dares to think that his Titanic is going down again, but is quickly disappointed when his lips are caught for a sensual kiss that breaks just like that. Jisung can barely keep from shouting words of love in his voice, because oh, how he wants to. In an incomprehensible impulse, he hugs his neck with both palms and whimpers into the curve of his neck, independently planting himself on his fingers, which are so fond of his hole. His hips tremble treacherously, and his toes curl up, suggesting that the end is not far off. "Mm-hmm... M-Minho, I can't... Stop, please... You are still too little for me and at the same time too much..." Jisung stammers, hugging his neck tighter with his palms. Minho obeys, carefully removing his fingers from the still rather narrow opening, kisses his shoulder, as if to suggest that everything is fine. Jisung enjoys a warm hug for a moment, allowing his to catch his breath and start trusting again. So damn stupid. As soon as a free second appears, and even Minho's caring gestures in addition, as thoughts get confused and only one thing — "trust him" flashes a red light in his head. This minute is also coming to an end, and Jisung feels a warm cockhead, clad in latex, sticking into the quivering sphincter with impatience. Minho is in no hurry. He promised to be gentle. That is why, Jisung himself takes the initiative and blissfully rolls his eyes, impaling himself on the dimensional organ until it stops. He just has time to think how much he missed Minho's cock, as he is torn out of his thoughts with a demanding kiss. Jisung loves kissing, but not when he tries to give up Minho and trust him in any way. Kisses always awaken special feelings and encourage rash actions. For example, such as now. And the last thing Jisung needs right now is rash actions. That is why he very carefully responds to the kiss and tries to distract himself with a dick that stretches the narrow walls from the inside so well. He moans with pleasure right into Minho's lips, moving independently on his hips. "Sung-i, my good one, I already forgot how much you love my dick," He smiles kindly, holding his waist with warm hands. Jisung moans long from the exact hit of the cockhead on the prostate, continuing to sit in this direction. He honestly tries not to listen to Minho's affectionate appeals, only watching his face from under his closed eyelashes, rarely distorted in obvious pleasure. However, "not listening" turns out badly and Jisung bites his lips every now and then, it's worth hearing a languid "Sung-i" on his exhale. "Just don't get mad at me, okay? I didn't mean to offend you. I just worked hard to earn you some money for a gift. I'm just doing this for you, Sung-i. Trust me." Minho continues to chirp sincerely, suspending his hands around his waist a little. Jisung feels his heart skip a beat, and something turns over in his stomach: either the butterflies are beating their wings against the organs, or the penis has dropped too sharply. He opens his eyes wider and looks very attentively into the dark ones opposite. His eyelashes involuntarily tremble from the newly approaching tears, but Jisung holds on with the last of his strength and doesn't allow moisture to wet his cheeks, only somehow guiltily scratching the sensitive skin on his neck with his nails. "This... Are you not lying?.." He comes out very quietly and confused. "No, Sung-i, I've never lied to you. I don't know where you got this stupid idea from. I love you, you're my little dreamer." He pulls the corners of his lips up so innocently, tremulously stroking the ribs protruding from under the thin skin, that he wants to love him unbearably much in return. "I... Minho, I am too..." "Sh-h, no need. You don't have to say that, Sung-i. I already know that," he breaks off in mid—sentence, putting his index finger to his plump lips. "If everything's okay now, could you dance on my hips a little more?" In contrast to the tenderness of the last sentence, Minho sounds rather impatient and lustful. However, he can be justified, because all this time Jisung was warming his penis inside himself, not delivering the right amount of stimulation. And damn him, but Jisung is dancing. He dances so beautifully and skillfully that he is surprised at his abilities. He moans out loud every now and then from the incredible pleasure that pierces the body gradually and so sweetly. It's like he's slowly going under the water and drowning. Exactly as he wanted. Only here... It seems that Jisung didn't even notice that he already believed his beloved bottomless eyes and lips repeating words of love. And now he doesn’t want to drown. He wants to fly high into the sky like the most beautiful butterfly and fall back to earth, that is, to his beautiful flower, which treats him so tenderly and tenderly. And at least let someone say that Jisung is doing something stupid. Yes, maybe this isn't the right decision. Yes, maybe Minho isn't the one who should be so blindly trusted. And yes, it'll probably happen again. But Jisung doesn't care so much right now. He doesn't trust in anyone as much as he does in Minho. Even into himself. He doesn't love anyone as much as Minho. Even himself. And if Minho is something without which he doesn't see his life, then let his life be long, even if it is sad at times. Jisung catches the stars in front of his eyes when, once again, with a long moan, he abruptly descends on the excited organ to the very base. He can barely distinguish between reality and his fantasy as he watches Minho lick his cum off his fingers. "Good boy..." softly, so that Jisung wouldn't hear. "You missed hugs, didn't you, little one?" Suddenly he is interested, affectionately circling his waist with his hands. "Yes, I am... A little bit... I just wanted your warmth... and... Yes, I missed it." Jisung admits, just catching his breath after a bright orgasm. "My bed is waiting for us. Go there quickly. I'll come over soon and we'll hug, okay?" Minho offers terribly tempting, breaking into a tremulous smile. "Wait a minute... But you haven't finished yet, have you?" He makes a familiar pelvic movement experimentally and makes sure that Minho is still really hard. "It's all right. Come on, run to bed!" insists, in an attempt to push the fragile body off his lap. "I'll be there soon. Give me a few minutes." "Minho? Is something wrong? I'm here. I can help you. If you don't want to fuck me, let me suck it. Or maybe just jerk off? Tell me what to do." "I just don't want to bother you. I'm sorry that you felt bad about my stupid idea. I feel guilty and I want to make it up to you... Will you let me do this?" Minho explains awkwardly. "But your idea isn't stupid. I was just a little offended and confused, but now I see that everything is fine. I trust you, Minho. At least I want to trust you." "Sung-i... It's cute. But I still insist that you go to bed and wait for me there... Truth... Do me this little favor, please." Gently stroking along the shoulder blades and looking with pleading in his eyes. And Jisung is coming. He kisses his briefly on the lips before that and runs into the bedroom like a naughty child. He almost squeaks when he burrows under the warm blanket and feels the smell of Minho's body on the pillows. His perfume. His shower gel. Yes, even the scent of his favorite lubricant. Jisung feels his heart grow warm and his head empty, no longer able to think about whether he is doing the right thing. As long as Minho is around, Jisung will be around too. He'll be the first to come to him and help with cooking, so that he has more time to rest and sleep. He'll just try to be more attentive to Minho. There will be no more hasty and superficial conclusions. It won't be presented without obvious arguments. He'll just try to be gentle with Minho. It's easier with him. It's easier for him to understand. And it's nicer for both of them. Minho really comes back after a couple of minutes. He looks a little exhausted, but when he lies down next to Jisung and covers himself with a blanket, a happy smile lights up his face. He seems to be tired a lot now and this visit from Jisung was completely unexpected, but he continues to smile next to him, as if nothing in the world is more important. "Sung-i, little one, I love you very much. I hope you trust me now." He whispers affectionately, scooping him up in his arms, and presses him as close to his chest as possible, completely enveloping his back with wide palms. "Minho, I love you so much that I'll never question your words again." He whispers sincerely into his chest, hugging his small hands tightly in response. So good. That's the right thing to do. And even if it didn't work out, Jisung did enough diving and now he is sure that if he'll still drown, it'll only be in the bottomless and insanely beloved eyes of Minho. He likes it that way. They both like it that way. Their relationship has never been and will never be perfect. They are what they are. With their misunderstandings and difficult periods. With their pens and worries. But right there and with his care and love. With his tenderness and affection, which can only be shared between two people. And the two of them are enough for them.