“Ay, Jisung,” Minho breathes, smiling softly at him. His eyes are so warm—so fond, and Jisung’s heart hurts. ”Mi cariño. Precioso mío.”

Jisung gulps. “What does that mean?”

“My darling,” says Minho, pressing a kiss against Jisung’s cheek. “My precious.”

”Mi tesoro.” Another kiss. ”Mi sol.”

Jisung squirms. “Hyuuuuung—!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Minho sighs, murmuring against Jisung’s forehead. “You are just... so precious.”