minute
Title: minute
Pairing: jongin/luhan
Rating: R
Wordcount: 2500w
A/N: this actually started out as a series of ficlets. but they had a loose flow to it, so i lumped it into one connected fic.
i.
"You are gaunt."
That’s the scariest thing anyone has ever said to Jongin.
Jongin has heard lots of things said and whispered about himself. Someone as brazen as he is, someone with no brain-to-mouth filter like him, someone as proud as him, has heard many, many things. He has heard plain insults spat out between gritted teeth ("Maybe if you cared more about someone other than yourself-"), heard absurd gasps of awe ("You must really thank your blessed genes."), and heard compliments that sound like insults ("Wow you look good for someone who doesn't know rags from fashion.").
But gaunt.
Gaunt is sick. Gaunt is sunken cheeks and skin over bones. Gaunt is when he chain smokes in place of lunch and pops two pills for dinner, and then rewards himself with a tic tac as he fights off the trembles that engulf his body in the silence of the night.
Gaunt is not an 18 year old.
The sad part is, he doesn't even do any of that. Kim Jongin is a dancer, and he cares too much about his body to let himself go. He smoked once in a fit of teenage bravado, choked on the unfamiliar taste, and figured that this is his body's way of telling him that smoking is bad. He is a growing boy, perhaps growing no longer, and he inhales food, too enticed by cheeseburgers to even entertain diets. Sometimes he even eats so much that he thinks that it is only a matter of time before age catches up to his metabolism, and youth will stop bailing him out.
"You are gaunt."
Worse still, it was a comment thrown out there, a random observation that catches him off guard. She's not a friend close to him, just a friend of his sister that drops by sometimes. She took a look at him and said it, "Are you okay? You've been looking a bit gaunt."
If she had been studying his face, Jongin would've felt better. But she had been tying her laces while Jongin sucked on a lollipop, waiting for her to leave so he could lock the door behind her. She knotted the laces, looked up and arranged her face in a concerned frown.
He remembers how he responded. He grinned wide, a defence mechanism kicking in, showing his teeth and gums in all their glory. That's what he does in times of awkwardness, because he knows that he can pull a smile so wide and genuine that it distracts. His smile takes over his entire face, sunken cheeks pushing up so far that his eyes narrow into slits. He hates his smile, thinks that his mouth is too wide and lips too thick, but it draws attention away from the fact that he's uncomfortable, so it's a handy tool. He laughed it off, brushed it past with a shrug and a casual joke, "It's just how my skin is. The tan works like industrial strength bronzer."
She nodded, uncertain and concerned, and Jongin wanted to scream.
How did you let yourself become like this, he asks his reflection sometimes, eyes drawing the outline of his features. The red veins creeping across the white of his eyes and the dark bruises underneath them. His lips are pasty and lined with cracks from where he chewed on them, a habit he never quite quit. There is one lone pimple hidden between the folds of his cheeks when he smiles, and for someone with skin like his, even one pimple is a sign of a problem.
For the most part he is good at hiding it. When he rolls out of bed in the morning, he is like a man born anew. It is only when he spends more time dancing than sleeping that the cracks show, that fatigue starts making itself at home on his face. When Kyungsoo starts fretting over his sleeping schedule like a mother hen, that is Jongin's cue to skip a day of practice and spend the day lazing around at home.
For the most part, he is Kim Jongin, young, beautiful and talented.
ii.
Perfection
i) The condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.
ii) A person or thing perceived as the embodiment of such a condition, state, or quality.
Someone called him perfect today.
It's the saddest thing Jongin’s ever heard.
If he is what someone would deem as perfect, then perfection isn't a lot to be.
Perfection is boring. It's something elusive and whimsical, like eternal happiness. If you are forever happy, would it not defeat the purpose of feeling happy?
Perfection is the last thing he ever wants to be.
He doesn't think he's bad looking. In fact, he knows he's handsome, in a boyish yet sensual way. He grew up listening to people breathe out compliments, even if half of them are insincere. That's why he doesn't compliment people unless he means it. He never tries to deny it when people call him beautiful, or handsome, or sexy, because it'll come out half-hearted anyway. Why deny what you already know?
After all, he is Kim Jongin. Young, beautiful and talented.
iii.
Maybe that's why he loves Luhan so much. Because Luhan understands.
If Jongin is the moon and the night, Luhan is the sun, brighter and more beautiful than Jongin will ever be. Luhan nourishes the world, has everyone clambering for his attention with his easy smiles and too trusting face.
Most of all, he loves Luhan, because being next to him, he is overshadowed. Aside from the face, there is nothing quite boyish about Luhan. Sometimes, Jongin presses their palms and marvels at how Luhan's hand is even bigger than his own. It is rough and calloused from years of guitar, a contrast from Jongin’s own piano fingers. There are veins running along Luhan’s arms, a reminder that Luhan actually works out three times a week after class. Luhan is shorter in height, but they are similar in frame, with Luhan even more built than Jongin is. Jongin gets his muscles from dance; Luhan gets his muscles from soccer. It is slightly ironic though, that the boy who spends his days in the dance studio is tanned while the boy who practically lives on the field is pale. But Jongin has always accepted it as their own individual charm- to each his own and what not.
Luhan- honour student, vice president of the student council, co-captain of the college soccer team, volunteers at the animal shelter weekly, sings like an angel, with a smile to match.
If Jongin had to put a face to perfection, Luhan would be it.
iv.
The thing is, unlike what the whole world seems to think, Jongin knows that Luhan is only surface level perfection, like a pretty gold plated trophy. Claw hard enough and there'll be gold flaking stuck under your nails, leaving behind ugly cheap plastic. Luhan is by no means ugly or cheap, but his flaws are buried under a carefully maintained facade. There is substance, but not enough.
It must be tiring to have Luhan’s life, with his desire to please everyone. Jongin lives for himself. Luhan lives for the world. A clash of individualism and collectivism.
v.
The difference between Jongin and Luhan is, Luhan is still caught up in keeping appearances and Jongin has long given up on caring.
It is Luhan that pulls away when Jongin curls his fingers around Luhan’s frail wrist, burying his nose into Luhan’s neck to breathe in his scent. It is Luhan that looks the other way when Jongin’s eyes search Luhan’s, pleading for something that he can't quite pinpoint. Something like trust, like friendship, something like love. Something that Luhan can't return.
And that's how Jongin knows that Luhan is not perfect, because when he pushes Jongin away, cracks of insecurity show through. Luhan is not perfect, because a perfect person would never go against society's carefully laid out rules, and fall in love in Kim Jongin.
"Who are you trying to impress, Luhan?" Jongin drawls one day as they lie tangled in his sheets. His hand plays absentmindedly with Luhan’s mousy brown locks and it’s one of the few more intimate gestures that Luhan allows, even if they’re fucking on a regular basis.
Luhan can't answer, and for a moment he looks so lost that Jongin leans in to kiss the frown away, regretting the fact that he ever asked the question.
vi.
The difference between Jongin and Luhan is, Jongin is more than happy to let his image define him, and Luhan is still struggling to break free.
Jongin lets the public believe into the delusion of a confident Jongin, a bit of a douche, too much of a playboy. Smooth and eloquent, always ready to charm his way into someone's pants. In reality, Jongin is a bit shy, preferring to be the wallflower of the party rather than the star of one. Behind the smiles that he churns out lies an awkward boy, wrapped up in glamor but really just wishing to be home in his jammies.
When people think of Luhan they imagine him to be a rich little boy with a track record so clean it is sparkling. He's the epitome of an eomchina*, the child your mother compares you to constantly.
When Jongin first met Luhan, he didn't quite buy into the goody two shoes act of Luhan. He thought that Luhan was one of those people that open up as you get close, until he never stops chattering your ear off. Jongin was quite surprised to discover that Luhan is exactly what everyone thinks he is. Luhan is smart, Luhan is quiet, Luhan is uptight, Luhan is ambitious. He's an open book, font neat and small, paragraphs aligned and properly indented.
Still Luhan tries to force himself into being just the right side of wild, following Jongin into clubs and drinking himself silly. Even when he has a few drinks in him, Luhan is as tightly wound as a spring. Luhan is still model student Luhan, even when Jongin is pressed against him in the throbbing sea of body, fingers tight on his hip, whispering things into his ear that makes Luhan flush. Luhan tries and tries to let loose, but no one takes him seriously.
It's ironic that Jongin accepts the image of who he is not, while Luhan fights the perception of who he really is.
vii.
The difference between Jongin and Luhan is, Jongin lives in the moment, and Luhan lives for the future.
This means that when Jongin has Luhan pressed on the bed, Jongin thinks of nothing but how good Luhan feels under him. His entire world focuses into tunnel vision and Luhan is the axis of his universe. Forget the upcoming assignment for management, or the fact that his rent is maybe three weeks overdue; Jongin knows only the feel of Luhan’s nails scratching across his skin.
This means that when Luhan sucks Jongin off he is careful to lap everything up, because if the cum gets on the sheets it will be a hassle to wash, and harder to explain. And when Jongin’s mouth goes astray and starts sucking marks onto his neck, Luhan twists his head and pushes Jongin away lightly. "No marks," he'll remind Jongin, and Jongin will let out a growl of frustration. But he'll comply, because he always does, and he licks instead of sucks, leaving tracks of saliva instead of blooming trails of red.
viii.
Jongin likes to watch Luhan study. There's something beautiful about his organized efficiency, with his pens in 6 different colours. Luhan's notes are colour coded, with stars and exclaimation marks and even carefully labelled diagrams, and the important points in his text books are appropriately highlighted.
Jongin's text book is a paragraph of yellow highlighter, if he even bothers at all.
Luhan clucks his tongue and shakes his head at the bright yellow mess. "You aren't supposed to highlight the whole book, just the important points."
"They all seem important to me," Jongin shrugs. Or equally unimportant. He's not sure which.
“You need to start having some direction,” Luhan comments mildly, ducking his head to avoid Jongin’s eyes.
They both know he’s not just talking about making notes.
iv.
Once when they were on the road to being drunk (Jongin running ahead in his worn out sneakers and Luhan tip toeing behind) they had played a game of truth. No dares, because there isn't much Jongin wouldn't do, and nothing much Luhan would do, so they stick to truth.
The questions are mundane, because there's an unspoken rule that there are too many areas not to be discussed. Jongin doesn't talk about his childhood, and Luhan doesn't talk about family. It's easier to just stick to the things that pop up in casual conversations.
"If you could go blind or deaf what would you choose?"
"I could live without listening to your nagging forever."
"Oh, fuck you."
Luhan's eyes crinkle up at the sides, crowfeet worse than Jongin’s own mother's. "Stupidest thing you've ever done?"
Jongin laughs, smacking Luhan across the shoulder. "You know I’ve done so many stupid things I’ve lost count."
It's an easy question though. One that Jongin can answer without even thinking. I wanted to like you, but I loved you instead.
v.
He adores him, even goes as far as to say that he loves him.
He loves him more at night when Luhan thrusts against him, denim clad bulges rubbing against each other. But then Luhan tilts his head to look at Jongin, pupils blown and lips kissed red, and Jongin cracks a little. Because even in the height of their passion, Luhan is still not letting loose. There’s an unshakable presence of society, of expectations, somewhere in the room, breathing down their necks and Luhan is constantly mindful. He is wary, like he's afraid that if he is vunelrable in front of Jongin, Jongin will use it to his advantage.
It's odd because normally Jongin’s the one that has a shield over his eyes, words carefully chosen and enunciated. Luhan is the open book, the predictable one. It hurts more when Luhan is guarded, around him. Jongin also feels slightly insulted, because what does that say about his skills in bed when he can’t even make his partner lose himself to pleasure?
Each time they meet, Jongin is determined to break down all of Luhan’s fortified steel walls. And then maybe one day they can sit in the cafe by the edge of the campus, hands stretched across the table and fingers loosely linked. Maybe one day Jongin can give Luhan a peck on the cheek under the tree by the library, instead of stealing forbidden kisses in the night with the curtains partly drawn. Maybe one day Jongin can put a name to what they are, instead of tinkering on the edge of friendship and something unspoken.
And maybe one day when Jongin kisses Luhan he'll taste less of addiction and more of love.
end.
*eomchina (엄친아) - 엄마 친구 아들
lit. mom's friend's son
you know how your mother always compares you her friend's son, the boy who has good grades, well behaved and polite to boot? that's an eomchina.
wow so i totally abused the term 'perfect'.
also i am a terrible lukai shipper because lukai makes me want to angst.
but as i have said many times, lukai is ultimate ship! one day i will make lukai puke rainbows and kawaii gay shit.
And if anyone is wondering, the title minute refers to “small amounts of”, not time.
Pairing: jongin/luhan
Rating: R
Wordcount: 2500w
A/N: this actually started out as a series of ficlets. but they had a loose flow to it, so i lumped it into one connected fic.
i.
"You are gaunt."
That’s the scariest thing anyone has ever said to Jongin.
Jongin has heard lots of things said and whispered about himself. Someone as brazen as he is, someone with no brain-to-mouth filter like him, someone as proud as him, has heard many, many things. He has heard plain insults spat out between gritted teeth ("Maybe if you cared more about someone other than yourself-"), heard absurd gasps of awe ("You must really thank your blessed genes."), and heard compliments that sound like insults ("Wow you look good for someone who doesn't know rags from fashion.").
But gaunt.
Gaunt is sick. Gaunt is sunken cheeks and skin over bones. Gaunt is when he chain smokes in place of lunch and pops two pills for dinner, and then rewards himself with a tic tac as he fights off the trembles that engulf his body in the silence of the night.
Gaunt is not an 18 year old.
The sad part is, he doesn't even do any of that. Kim Jongin is a dancer, and he cares too much about his body to let himself go. He smoked once in a fit of teenage bravado, choked on the unfamiliar taste, and figured that this is his body's way of telling him that smoking is bad. He is a growing boy, perhaps growing no longer, and he inhales food, too enticed by cheeseburgers to even entertain diets. Sometimes he even eats so much that he thinks that it is only a matter of time before age catches up to his metabolism, and youth will stop bailing him out.
"You are gaunt."
Worse still, it was a comment thrown out there, a random observation that catches him off guard. She's not a friend close to him, just a friend of his sister that drops by sometimes. She took a look at him and said it, "Are you okay? You've been looking a bit gaunt."
If she had been studying his face, Jongin would've felt better. But she had been tying her laces while Jongin sucked on a lollipop, waiting for her to leave so he could lock the door behind her. She knotted the laces, looked up and arranged her face in a concerned frown.
He remembers how he responded. He grinned wide, a defence mechanism kicking in, showing his teeth and gums in all their glory. That's what he does in times of awkwardness, because he knows that he can pull a smile so wide and genuine that it distracts. His smile takes over his entire face, sunken cheeks pushing up so far that his eyes narrow into slits. He hates his smile, thinks that his mouth is too wide and lips too thick, but it draws attention away from the fact that he's uncomfortable, so it's a handy tool. He laughed it off, brushed it past with a shrug and a casual joke, "It's just how my skin is. The tan works like industrial strength bronzer."
She nodded, uncertain and concerned, and Jongin wanted to scream.
How did you let yourself become like this, he asks his reflection sometimes, eyes drawing the outline of his features. The red veins creeping across the white of his eyes and the dark bruises underneath them. His lips are pasty and lined with cracks from where he chewed on them, a habit he never quite quit. There is one lone pimple hidden between the folds of his cheeks when he smiles, and for someone with skin like his, even one pimple is a sign of a problem.
For the most part he is good at hiding it. When he rolls out of bed in the morning, he is like a man born anew. It is only when he spends more time dancing than sleeping that the cracks show, that fatigue starts making itself at home on his face. When Kyungsoo starts fretting over his sleeping schedule like a mother hen, that is Jongin's cue to skip a day of practice and spend the day lazing around at home.
For the most part, he is Kim Jongin, young, beautiful and talented.
ii.
Perfection
i) The condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.
ii) A person or thing perceived as the embodiment of such a condition, state, or quality.
Someone called him perfect today.
It's the saddest thing Jongin’s ever heard.
If he is what someone would deem as perfect, then perfection isn't a lot to be.
Perfection is boring. It's something elusive and whimsical, like eternal happiness. If you are forever happy, would it not defeat the purpose of feeling happy?
Perfection is the last thing he ever wants to be.
He doesn't think he's bad looking. In fact, he knows he's handsome, in a boyish yet sensual way. He grew up listening to people breathe out compliments, even if half of them are insincere. That's why he doesn't compliment people unless he means it. He never tries to deny it when people call him beautiful, or handsome, or sexy, because it'll come out half-hearted anyway. Why deny what you already know?
After all, he is Kim Jongin. Young, beautiful and talented.
iii.
Maybe that's why he loves Luhan so much. Because Luhan understands.
If Jongin is the moon and the night, Luhan is the sun, brighter and more beautiful than Jongin will ever be. Luhan nourishes the world, has everyone clambering for his attention with his easy smiles and too trusting face.
Most of all, he loves Luhan, because being next to him, he is overshadowed. Aside from the face, there is nothing quite boyish about Luhan. Sometimes, Jongin presses their palms and marvels at how Luhan's hand is even bigger than his own. It is rough and calloused from years of guitar, a contrast from Jongin’s own piano fingers. There are veins running along Luhan’s arms, a reminder that Luhan actually works out three times a week after class. Luhan is shorter in height, but they are similar in frame, with Luhan even more built than Jongin is. Jongin gets his muscles from dance; Luhan gets his muscles from soccer. It is slightly ironic though, that the boy who spends his days in the dance studio is tanned while the boy who practically lives on the field is pale. But Jongin has always accepted it as their own individual charm- to each his own and what not.
Luhan- honour student, vice president of the student council, co-captain of the college soccer team, volunteers at the animal shelter weekly, sings like an angel, with a smile to match.
If Jongin had to put a face to perfection, Luhan would be it.
iv.
The thing is, unlike what the whole world seems to think, Jongin knows that Luhan is only surface level perfection, like a pretty gold plated trophy. Claw hard enough and there'll be gold flaking stuck under your nails, leaving behind ugly cheap plastic. Luhan is by no means ugly or cheap, but his flaws are buried under a carefully maintained facade. There is substance, but not enough.
It must be tiring to have Luhan’s life, with his desire to please everyone. Jongin lives for himself. Luhan lives for the world. A clash of individualism and collectivism.
v.
The difference between Jongin and Luhan is, Luhan is still caught up in keeping appearances and Jongin has long given up on caring.
It is Luhan that pulls away when Jongin curls his fingers around Luhan’s frail wrist, burying his nose into Luhan’s neck to breathe in his scent. It is Luhan that looks the other way when Jongin’s eyes search Luhan’s, pleading for something that he can't quite pinpoint. Something like trust, like friendship, something like love. Something that Luhan can't return.
And that's how Jongin knows that Luhan is not perfect, because when he pushes Jongin away, cracks of insecurity show through. Luhan is not perfect, because a perfect person would never go against society's carefully laid out rules, and fall in love in Kim Jongin.
"Who are you trying to impress, Luhan?" Jongin drawls one day as they lie tangled in his sheets. His hand plays absentmindedly with Luhan’s mousy brown locks and it’s one of the few more intimate gestures that Luhan allows, even if they’re fucking on a regular basis.
Luhan can't answer, and for a moment he looks so lost that Jongin leans in to kiss the frown away, regretting the fact that he ever asked the question.
vi.
The difference between Jongin and Luhan is, Jongin is more than happy to let his image define him, and Luhan is still struggling to break free.
Jongin lets the public believe into the delusion of a confident Jongin, a bit of a douche, too much of a playboy. Smooth and eloquent, always ready to charm his way into someone's pants. In reality, Jongin is a bit shy, preferring to be the wallflower of the party rather than the star of one. Behind the smiles that he churns out lies an awkward boy, wrapped up in glamor but really just wishing to be home in his jammies.
When people think of Luhan they imagine him to be a rich little boy with a track record so clean it is sparkling. He's the epitome of an eomchina*, the child your mother compares you to constantly.
When Jongin first met Luhan, he didn't quite buy into the goody two shoes act of Luhan. He thought that Luhan was one of those people that open up as you get close, until he never stops chattering your ear off. Jongin was quite surprised to discover that Luhan is exactly what everyone thinks he is. Luhan is smart, Luhan is quiet, Luhan is uptight, Luhan is ambitious. He's an open book, font neat and small, paragraphs aligned and properly indented.
Still Luhan tries to force himself into being just the right side of wild, following Jongin into clubs and drinking himself silly. Even when he has a few drinks in him, Luhan is as tightly wound as a spring. Luhan is still model student Luhan, even when Jongin is pressed against him in the throbbing sea of body, fingers tight on his hip, whispering things into his ear that makes Luhan flush. Luhan tries and tries to let loose, but no one takes him seriously.
It's ironic that Jongin accepts the image of who he is not, while Luhan fights the perception of who he really is.
vii.
The difference between Jongin and Luhan is, Jongin lives in the moment, and Luhan lives for the future.
This means that when Jongin has Luhan pressed on the bed, Jongin thinks of nothing but how good Luhan feels under him. His entire world focuses into tunnel vision and Luhan is the axis of his universe. Forget the upcoming assignment for management, or the fact that his rent is maybe three weeks overdue; Jongin knows only the feel of Luhan’s nails scratching across his skin.
This means that when Luhan sucks Jongin off he is careful to lap everything up, because if the cum gets on the sheets it will be a hassle to wash, and harder to explain. And when Jongin’s mouth goes astray and starts sucking marks onto his neck, Luhan twists his head and pushes Jongin away lightly. "No marks," he'll remind Jongin, and Jongin will let out a growl of frustration. But he'll comply, because he always does, and he licks instead of sucks, leaving tracks of saliva instead of blooming trails of red.
viii.
Jongin likes to watch Luhan study. There's something beautiful about his organized efficiency, with his pens in 6 different colours. Luhan's notes are colour coded, with stars and exclaimation marks and even carefully labelled diagrams, and the important points in his text books are appropriately highlighted.
Jongin's text book is a paragraph of yellow highlighter, if he even bothers at all.
Luhan clucks his tongue and shakes his head at the bright yellow mess. "You aren't supposed to highlight the whole book, just the important points."
"They all seem important to me," Jongin shrugs. Or equally unimportant. He's not sure which.
“You need to start having some direction,” Luhan comments mildly, ducking his head to avoid Jongin’s eyes.
They both know he’s not just talking about making notes.
iv.
Once when they were on the road to being drunk (Jongin running ahead in his worn out sneakers and Luhan tip toeing behind) they had played a game of truth. No dares, because there isn't much Jongin wouldn't do, and nothing much Luhan would do, so they stick to truth.
The questions are mundane, because there's an unspoken rule that there are too many areas not to be discussed. Jongin doesn't talk about his childhood, and Luhan doesn't talk about family. It's easier to just stick to the things that pop up in casual conversations.
"If you could go blind or deaf what would you choose?"
"I could live without listening to your nagging forever."
"Oh, fuck you."
Luhan's eyes crinkle up at the sides, crowfeet worse than Jongin’s own mother's. "Stupidest thing you've ever done?"
Jongin laughs, smacking Luhan across the shoulder. "You know I’ve done so many stupid things I’ve lost count."
It's an easy question though. One that Jongin can answer without even thinking. I wanted to like you, but I loved you instead.
v.
He adores him, even goes as far as to say that he loves him.
He loves him more at night when Luhan thrusts against him, denim clad bulges rubbing against each other. But then Luhan tilts his head to look at Jongin, pupils blown and lips kissed red, and Jongin cracks a little. Because even in the height of their passion, Luhan is still not letting loose. There’s an unshakable presence of society, of expectations, somewhere in the room, breathing down their necks and Luhan is constantly mindful. He is wary, like he's afraid that if he is vunelrable in front of Jongin, Jongin will use it to his advantage.
It's odd because normally Jongin’s the one that has a shield over his eyes, words carefully chosen and enunciated. Luhan is the open book, the predictable one. It hurts more when Luhan is guarded, around him. Jongin also feels slightly insulted, because what does that say about his skills in bed when he can’t even make his partner lose himself to pleasure?
Each time they meet, Jongin is determined to break down all of Luhan’s fortified steel walls. And then maybe one day they can sit in the cafe by the edge of the campus, hands stretched across the table and fingers loosely linked. Maybe one day Jongin can give Luhan a peck on the cheek under the tree by the library, instead of stealing forbidden kisses in the night with the curtains partly drawn. Maybe one day Jongin can put a name to what they are, instead of tinkering on the edge of friendship and something unspoken.
And maybe one day when Jongin kisses Luhan he'll taste less of addiction and more of love.
end.
*eomchina (엄친아) - 엄마 친구 아들
lit. mom's friend's son
you know how your mother always compares you her friend's son, the boy who has good grades, well behaved and polite to boot? that's an eomchina.
wow so i totally abused the term 'perfect'.
also i am a terrible lukai shipper because lukai makes me want to angst.
but as i have said many times, lukai is ultimate ship! one day i will make lukai puke rainbows and kawaii gay shit.
And if anyone is wondering, the title minute refers to “small amounts of”, not time.