Minjun’s legs quivered beneath him, a delicate dance of uncertainty as Haruto’s words hung in the air like a charged current. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the tumult within. His heart raced—a wild drumbeat that echoed in his ears, drowning out the world around them.

"Just breathe," he thought, but the command felt futile. The warmth of Haruto’s breath ghosted across his skin, teasing and tantalizing, drawing him deeper into an uncharted territory of emotions. Each gentle exhale sent a shiver racing down his spine, igniting something deep within him that he had yet to understand.

"Why can’t I think?" Minjun grappled with the confusion swirling in his mind. It was as if Haruto's presence had wrapped itself around him, a cocoon woven from intensity and intimacy. He felt exposed, vulnerable, yet there was an undeniable pull—an invisible thread binding them closer. 

"Is this real?" he questioned silently, battling the urge to step back, to escape the spinning vortex of feelings that threatened to consume him. But instead, he stood frozen, caught between retreat and surrender. The space between them felt electric, crackling with unspoken words and desires that danced just beyond the edge of comprehension.

"Am I... am I drawn to him?" Minjun pondered, grappling with the reality of that thought. In all his life, this wasn’t something he had ever anticipated. The closeness, the way Haruto’s essence seemed to envelop him—it was overwhelming in its complexity, yet far too intoxicating to dismiss. His pulse quickened at the mere idea, and he felt a heat rising in his cheeks, a mix of uncertainty and longing pooling in his stomach.

"How can I feel like this? Why do I want to stay?" The questions spiraled through his mind, each one heavier than the last, but still, he remained rooted in place. Haruto's gaze held him captive, and even amidst the chaos of his thoughts, Minjun found himself yearning for more. More of the connection, more of the warmth, more of whatever this feeling was that bloomed in the pit of his being.

"Maybe just a moment longer," he reasoned, though he knew he was treading on dangerous ground. But with every heartbeat, the distance between them seemed to shrink, and in that shared silence, Minjun realized he didn’t want to move away. Not now. Not ever.

The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made Minjun's skin prickle. As he stood there, suspended in that moment, he felt Haruto’s lips brush against the delicate skin of his neck. A tingling sensation ignited within him, spreading like wildfire down his spine. The touch was light, almost teasing, yet it sent a jolt through him—a spark that awakened something buried deep inside.

Minjun gasped, a breath caught in his throat as shivers cascaded over him, leaving him both exhilarated and terrified. He could feel his heart racing, each thump echoing in his ears, drowning out all rational thought. His cheeks flushed hot, betraying the embarrassment that coursed through him, mingling with a longing he had never dared to acknowledge before.

"Mr... Mr... Haruto," he whispered, the words slipping from his lips like a secret confession. His voice trembled, barely audible, and laced with a vulnerability that left him feeling exposed. In that moment, Minjun realized how deeply he craved this connection—a thread woven between them that felt both fragile and necessary. 

Haruto paused, and in that stillness, Minjun sensed the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. He dared not turn to look, worried that the intensity of Haruto's gaze would unravel him completely. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on a distant point, trying to ground himself amid the storm of emotions swirling within.

But even that small distance felt insurmountable, as if every inch between them pulled taut with an unseen force. Minjun could feel the warmth radiating from Haruto, enveloping him in a cocoon of heat that both comforted and unsettled him. How could one touch ignite such chaos? Why did he crave more?

"Stay here," he silently willed himself, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. What was happening to him? These thoughts spun wildly, but there was no denying the truth that had taken root in his heart: he wanted this, wanted him.