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Summary
Jisung’s fingers tightened slightly on the shirt as he literally covered his whole face and breathed the mint in. His lungs filled, slow and deep, like he couldn’t get enough of it. His grip tightened unconsciously, knuckles whitening slightly as he buried his face further into the fabric.
Suddenly, a low, soft vibration in his throat made his eyes blink wide open.
No fucking way.
Had he just purred? Like an animal? Like a fucking cat?
Or Han Jisung has two problems. He still hasn't presented, and he's hopelessly in love with his best friend.