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Jisung is still catching his breath when Seungmin reaches for the wipes on the bedside table. He meticulously wipes the cum off his bare stomach and tosses it on the table. Normally, he wouldn’t be so messy, but he's too sore to move across the room to the trash can. He makes a mental note to move the trash can closer to his bed for next time. Jisung is flopped down next to him, boneless and still panting, there’s a sated look on his face that makes Seungmin smile. His own breathing is a little laboured too, he grabs the water bottle from the table and takes a long drink, then offers it to Jisung. 

“Thanks,” Jisung mutters, sitting up and downing the rest of the bottle. He flops back into the bed and Seungmin joins him, turning on his side to look at Jisung. 

“So,” Seungmin begins, “How was I?” 

“Good,” Jisung breathes out. He pulls Seungmin into his arms, mistaking his question for wanting reassurance, and presses a kiss to his jaw. “Really good. Incredible.” 

He tilts Jisung’s chin up to bring him into a kiss, soft and slow, pulling a low pitched groan out of him. When he pulls away, Jisung’s lips are a pretty red and swollen, Seungmin is sure he looks the same. 

“No, seriously,” Seungmin says, fingers ghosting over the bruise he left across Jisung’s collarbones. He mentioned having work in the morning, so Seungmin made sure to leave hickies in places he could easily cover up. He’s thoughtful like that. “How was I? Was there anything you didn’t like? Or anything you really liked? You can be honest, it won’t hurt my feelings.” 

Jisung chuckles, “What, do you want a performance review or something?” 

“Actually, yeah.” 

Jisung blinks. 

“If you don’t want to answer now I can email you an anonymous google form.” 

Jisung’s eyes widen, “Are you serious?” 

Seungmin giggles, “I’m serious on wanting feedback, but I don’t actually have a Google Form to send you. I should make one though, no one ever has anything constructive to say when I straight up ask them.” 

“Maybe they’re too busy recovering from having their brains fucked out.” 

“Really?” Seungmin asks, face lighting up, “That good?” 

Jisung’s laugh is warm and fond, he presses a feather light kiss to Seungmin’s lips and says, “Like I said, incredible. Best sex of my life. I’m happy to fill out whatever feedback form you send me.” 

Seungmin glows warm with the praise, “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he says, before curling his hands around Jisung’s nape and pulling him in for a deeper kiss. 

They exchange lazy kisses like that for a bit, too spent to go for another round. Like every good thing, there’s a routine to sex. Seungmin makes sure to follow it thoroughly, including the after-sex part. He knows that some people enjoy basking in the afterglow, making pillow talk or napping together. Sometimes they need care and reassurance, so Seungmin will offer to be the big spoon. Others prefer if Seungmin left right away, some will offer to cook for him—those are usually his favourites. Jisung seems happy to just lazily make out without it leading anywhere, and Seungmin is happy to indulge him. 

“Can I see you again?” Jisung asks quietly as he pulls away. 

“Sure,” Seungmin says. Jisung is sweet, albeit awkward at first, stumbling over his words when he approached Seungmin earlier that night. But undeniably sweet, and pretty, and well, Seungmin can look past the lack of brain to mouth filter. He had a good time and he’d like to see Jisung again. 

He picks up his phone and opens up Google Calendar. 

“How does Sunday the 25th sound?” 

Jisung makes a confused noise, hooking his head over Seungmin’s shoulder to look at his phone. “Oh, you want to plan it right now? I figured I would just send you a random ‘u up?’ text when I’m horny and you’d come over.” 

Seungmin scrunches his face up, that sounds horrible. “I don’t work that way.” 

“Not one for booty calls?” 

“Unless the booty call is scheduled a week in advance, no.”

Jisung snorts, “Not one for spontaneity then.”

“Absolutely not,” he shows Jisung his Google Calendar, where he plans his entire life with multi-coloured blocks. His hookups, classes, work shifts, and hangouts with friends. “See, the yellow is for hookups.” 

“Holy shit,” Jisung says, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Okay, the calendar is mostly yellow. Being a film major is stressful, and sex is the most efficient and effective way to unwind. “You get around a lot.” 

Seungmin narrows his eyes, trying to detect if there’s any judgement in Jisung’s tone, but he mostly just sounds impressed. Seungmin can work with that. 

“Still want to see me again?” 

Jisung gives him an incredulous look, like he can’t believe Seungmin is really asking. “Dude, of course. I’m free on the 25th.” 

“Cool,” Seungmin takes the phone back from Jisung, “I’ll send you a calendar invite.” 

“Cool,” Jisung mimics, “Guess it’s time to invest in a Google Calendar.” 

Seungmin gets Jisung’s email—and his number—sends the invite and locks his phone again. He drops it on the bed and scooches closer to Jisung. 

“Do you want to cuddle?” Seungmin offers, holding his arms out for Jisung to settle in, “It’s really common to feel lonely after sex because it’s such a vulnerable form of intimacy. Cuddling is a good way to combat that.” 

Jisung gives him an amused look and drags Seungmin in, throwing his legs over his waist. “Sure,” he mumbles, nuzzling his face into Seungmin’s shoulder, “Let’s cuddle.”

They eventually fall asleep together. Seungmin’s alarm goes off at eight in the morning and Jisung groans into his shoulder, begging him to turn it off. He figures an extra hour of sleep won’t hurt anyone and hits snooze.

When he wakes up again, it’s to the morning sun streaming in through his curtains and Jisung snoring against his chest. He pokes Jisung’s cheeks until he wakes up, and then reminds him that he has work which has him shooting up in alert. They opt out of morning sex because Jisung has to leave soon and Seungmin has plans anyway. He lends Jisung clean clothes and a spare toothbrush, making him promise to wash the clothes and bring them back the next time they see each other.

When they finally stumble out of the room, the smell of eggs drifts through the kitchen accompanied with the speakers playing a Baekhyun song. Seungmin’s stomach rumbles, he pulls Jisung with him to the kitchen, finding Minho with his back turned to them, humming along to the song as he hunches over the stove. 

“Morning, hyung!” Seungmin greets brightly, “You made breakfast?” 

“Your boytoy gets nothing,” Minho replies without looking up from the pan. 

Jisung makes a kicked puppy noise, “Aw, Minho hyung don’t be like that.” 

His voice makes Minho’s head snap up, he whips around and looks from Jisung to Seungmin and then back to Jisung with widened eyes. He blinks, once, twice. 

“Jisungie?” 

Jisung grins brightly. “Hi hyung, fancy seeing you here.”

“In my own apartment,” Minho adds flatly, grip tightening around his spatula. 

Seungmin looks between the two of them, it’s not usual for Minho to make any sort of facial expression other than passive this early in the morning. 

“You two know each other?” Seungmin asks.

“Oh, we go way back,” Jisung says with a hand wave, “He was my broadcasting club sunbae in high school.” 

Huh, interesting. Seungmin’s never slept with someone close with Minho before. They’ve been roommates for two years and their Google Calendars are synced, so he knows about Seungmin’s hobbies and has never shown any interest before. But now he looks...tense. 

Minho notices Seungmin’s watchful eyes on him and his expression flickers back to that artful disinterest. One would miss the change if they didn’t know Minho as well as Seungmin did.

“When you texted the group chat that you were getting some I didn’t think you meant with my roommate.” 

“I didn’t know he was your roommate!” Jisung says cheerily, “Isn’t this such a fun coincidence?”

“Whatever,” Minho says in a bored tone, turning back to the stove, “Congrats on finally losing your virginity, Jisungie.”

It’s Seungmin’s turn to be surprised. 

“What?” he asks Jisung.

Jisung splutters, “He—the— haha— he’s joking! I’m not a virgin.”

“Not anymore~” Minho sing-songs. 

Jisung glares at his back, but it has little effect with how red his cheeks are. Minho doesn’t look back but his shoulders shake with silent laughter. 

“I mean, it’s fine if you were,” Seungmin says quietly, taking Jisung’s hand in his. There’s a seventy percent chance Minho is just giving Jisung a hard time—Seungmin can empathise, Minho gives him a hard time constantly—but he can never be too sure. “I just wish you told me beforehand, I would’ve been more…” he searches for the right word, “...careful.” 

Minho snorts. 

“Oh my god,” Jisung whispers, mortified, “I’m going to head out, can’t be late for my shift. Haha. I had a lovely time Seungmin, see you on the 25th.” He directs his glare back to Minho, “I’m sending so many bad vibes your way, hyung.” 

“I’ll walk you out,” Seungmin offers, because he’s a better person than Minho, who just calls “See you at norebang night!” after a pouty Jisung. 

After sending Jisung off with a goodbye kiss to his rosy cheeks, Seungmin walks back to the kitchen and crosses his arms. 

“That was mean, hyung.” 

Minho shrugs, sliding the cooked omelette from the pan to a bowl of rice. “He’ll get over it.” 

Seungmin grabs two mugs from the cupboard—their matching cat and dog mugs that Seungmin got for Christmas and Minho pretends to hate—and busies himself with making coffee. Minho finishes making breakfast, setting the table up with reheated side dishes from the night before. They work in a comfortable silence. The whir of the coffee machine filling the air, the soft music playing through the speakers with Minho humming along.

Sunlight streams through the kitchen window, casting shadows across the white walls and basking everything in a warm orange. The kitchen is too cramped for two people, but they always make it work. Minho puts his hand on the small of Seungmin’s back, gently pushing him forward so he can shuffle behind him to get to the fridge. He takes the jar of kimchi out of the fridge, digging a piece out with his chopsticks and holding it out for Seungmin. 

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, but opens his mouth anyway and lets Minho feed him. 

“It’s expired,” Minho says, as soon as the kimchi hits Seungmin’s tongue. 

Seungmin chokes, the overly sour taste assaulting his taste buds. He scrambles over to the sink and spits it out, and then runs the tap water over his tongue for good measure. Minho remains unfazed, upending what's left of the kimchi jar in the bin. 

“We need to buy more kimchi,” Minho comments, adding it to the grocery list on the fridge, “We should get a smaller jar this time so we don’t let it expire again.” 

Seungmin lifts his head up from the sink, glowering at Minho as he wipes his mouth with his sleeve. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Whatever for?” Minho asks, blinking innocently. Okay, he’s definitely mad. 

“For sleeping with your precious junior,” Seungmin says, “I really didn’t know you knew him.” 

“Kim Seungmin, I don’t care who you fuck,” he says it like someone who cares who Seungmin fucks and is trying very hard to pretend he doesn’t. 

Seungmin’s become an expert on the different tones Minho uses on him. To the untrained ear, it may sound like he only ever talks to Seungmin with mild annoyance. But Seungmin knows that when his voice takes a softer tone then he’s in a good mood, and when his words are clipped and pulled taut, then he’s tired and moody. When his words have an edge to them like they do now, then there’s something he’s hiding from Seungmin.

“Even if it’s someone you know?” 

Something flickers in Minho’s eyes, but it’s gone just as quick, like blinds being snapped shut. 

“Even then,” he confirms. 

Seungmin is going to take that as a challenge. If Minho won’t tell him what’s bothering him, then he’ll find out on his own.

“Can we eat now?” Minho asks, taking a seat at the dining table. It’s less of a dining table and more of a block of wood covered with a tablecloth. They found it for dirt cheap at a thrift store when they decided to move in together. All it took was a coat of varnish for it to look, well, decent. 

“Of course,” he says, placing their freshly made cups of coffee on the table. He takes the seat across from Minho. “Thank you for the food, hyung. I appreciate you.” 

“Just eat before it gets cold,” Minho grumbles, ducking his head to scoop rice into his mouth, ears glowing a faint pink.

If there’s one thing Seungmin hates, it’s something disrupting his routine. 

Mondays are his most hectic days. He starts off the day with an 8:00am class of his least favourite subject: video editing. It’s a three hour workshop where they sit in front of a screen and edit films that other people have made. This isn’t why Seungmin joined film school, he wants to shoot his own films, not spend two hours struggling to navigate a complicated movie editing software. His class right after is Film Theory, which he actually enjoys, but four straight hours of class usually leaves him starving and grumpy once his one hour break rolls around. 

He usually spends those with Minho at their spot in the courtyard—and their other friends if they’re free—they’d sit together on the grass when the weather allowed for it and eat the lunches that Minho packed for them. And then after, Seungmin had his screen-writing class. 

Monday nights, though, are usually what made his gruelling day more tolerable. Because those are his assigned Jeongin nights. The mustard yellow block that takes up the 4:00pm - 9:00 pm slot in his Google Calendar has Jeongin’s name on it. It’s just another part of his routine, and Seungmin’s favourite part at that. He gets through his hectic Mondays knowing that it leads to a relaxing evening having lazy sex and watching movies with Jeongin. Their nights together don’t always end in sex. Jeongin is his best friend (alongside Felix and, against his will, Minho), so sometimes they’d just watch movies or nap together. Either way, Mondays are for Jeongin. And Seungmin always looks forward to seeing him at the end of the day. 

Until—

“I can’t believe this,” Seungmin says with a despairing sigh. He’s walking to the courtyard with Jeongin hot on his heels. It’s Monday afternoon and he found Jeongin outside his film theory class, holding two cups of boba with his sad desert fox eyes on full blast. “You’re breaking up with me.” 

Jeongin rolls his eyes, “Get over yourself, hyung.” 

“Did our nights together mean nothing to you?” he wails, just for good measure. He’s aware he’s being more dramatic than he needs to be, but missed his alarm and skipped breakfast this morning, so he’s hangry. That, and Jeongin just informed him that their Monday night hookups have to end due to the unforeseen circumstance of Jeongin getting himself a boyfriend.

“Can you at least pretend to be happy for me?” Jeongin whines back. 

“Of course I’m happy for you,” Seungmin says, and means it. Jeongin and Felix have been tip-toeing around each other for almost a year now. Seungmin had been rooting for his best friends to get together, even if it meant losing his casual sex deal with Jeongin, because he’s a good friend like that. “I just wish you gave me at least a three day notice so I could adjust to the change in my Monday schedule.” 

He sees Minho at their usual spot in the grass. At least Minho still respects Seungmin’s routine. He’s sitting with Chan, their lunches spread out between them. Seungmin picks up his pace to join them, eager to eat whatever delicious food Minho brought him. 

“We literally got together last night!” Jeongin defends, “Sorry that my first thought when my dream boy confessed to me wasn’t ‘ damn, I should let Kim Seungmin know that I can no longer dick him down on a weekly basis’. ”

They reach their friends by the time Jeongin finishes speaking, which means Chan only catches the tail-end of that sentence. He chokes on his food. Minho reaches over and pats his back, neutral expression on his face. 

“Um, what’s going on?” Chan asks, once he gathers his bearings. 

“Oh, just the usual,” Jeongin says brightly as he sits down. “Hyung is hangry and bad with change.” 

“I detest that,” Seungmin says, tossing his bag on the ground and practically throwing himself onto Minho’s lap. Minho barely even flinches, shifting so Seungmin can comfortably rest his head in his lap. “I’m perfectly fine with change, as long as I get three-to-five business days to adjust accordingly.”

Jeongin scoffs, “Do you actually hear yourself when you talk? Serious question.”

Seungmin forgoes responding all together and sticks his tongue out at Jeongin. Mockery speaks a thousand words. 

Minho pulls Seungmin’s hair hard enough for it to hurt, effectively getting his attention. 

“Eat,” he orders, pulling a lunchbox out of his bag, “I know you skipped breakfast this morning.”

“Yeah hyung,” Jeongin mocks, “You’re not you when you’re hungry.” 

Seungmin sends his best friend one last glare before begrudgingly detaching his cheek from Minho’s thigh. He sits upright and takes the lunchbox from Minho’s hands, opening it to find the leftover kimchi fried rice from last night. He makes a pleased sound.

“Thank you for the food, hyung.” 

Minho tuts, annoyed. “Stop thanking me, idiot,” he uses his own chopsticks to shovel the fried egg into Seungmin’s mouth. Cold, but still good. “Just eat.”

Seungmin chews obediently, “Yes, hyung,” he says through a full mouth. Minho wrinkles his nose in disgust. 

“Anyways,” Jeongin clears his throat, “I have news.”

He waits for everyone to look at him before clearing his throat and announcing, “Felix and I are officially dating!” 

Chan gasps, clapping gleefully. “That’s awesome! I’m so happy for you guys.” 

Jeongin smiles bashfully, cheeks warming up. Okay, fine, maybe it’s a little endearing. He knows Felix and Jeongin are going to be sickeningly adorable together, he’ll refrain from making fun of them for a few months as reparations for reacting so badly to Jeongin’s news in the first place. 

“Congrats, Jeongin-ah,” Minho says, lips tugging up with a fond smile, “I know Yongbok was super nervous to ask you out.” 

Seungmin sends a betrayed look Minho’s way, “You knew about this? Why didn’t you warn me?” 

Minho blinks at him. “How does it concern you?” 

“Hyung’s just being dramatic because I cancelled our plans tonight on such short notice,” Jeongin says, “You know, the aforementioned dicking down.” 

“Please don’t,” Chan begs, looking pained, “I’ve known you both since middle school, don’t do this to me.” 

An evil glint crosses Jeongin’s eyes, smiling in a way that’s reminiscent of the Grinch who stole Christmas. Before he can open his mouth and start outlining the gory details of their sex life to poor Chan, Seungmin cuts him off. 

(Not that he cares if Chan knows, but there’s an inexplicable part of him that doesn’t want Minho to know.)

“How am I going to de-stress on Mondays now?” 

“I’m free Mondays,” Minho says casually. 

Seungmin freezes, chopsticks halting in mid-air. His brain short-circuits and all he can do is gape at Minho like a fish. 

Minho looks up from his lunchbox, realising that Jeongin and Chan are also staring at him with similar shocked expressions. “What?” 

“Hyung,” Seungmin says, heartbeat thundering in his ribcage, “Are you propositioning me right now?” 

“What?” Minho snaps, ears lighting up like a house on fire, “Oh my god, of course not.” 

Okay, ouch. 

“Try not to sound too disgusted,” Seungmin mutters miserably. 

Minho either doesn’t hear him or is choosing to ignore him. “I meant I’m free on Mondays to hang out. With our clothes on. Like get dinner or some shit. Get your head out of the gutter.” 

“So, like a date?” 

Minho snorts, “Don’t be delusional either.” 

Seungmin tries not to look visibly deflated, but based on the pitying look Jeongin sends him, he’s probably failing. 

“Are you being serious?” Seungmin asks quietly. 

Minho gives him a strange look, brown eyes softening just the slightest bit. “I know how stressed you get on Mondays, we can do something chill tonight. Like get dinner at that Chinese place you want to try and then go to the arcade.” 

That does sound really nice. Maybe losing his Monday dick appointments was a blessing in disguise. “I’d like that,” Seungmin says with a smile. 

Minho returns it with a shy smile of his own.

“That sure sounds like a date,” Chan comments. Minho cuts a glare his way, which has him snapping his mouth shut. 

After Seungmin finishes his food, he takes his phone out of his pocket.

“I’ll send you a calendar invite,” he tells Minho. He ruthlessly deletes the yellow block titled ‘Jeonginnie🦊🧡’ and scrolls through the colour options to choose the perfect one for Minho. He settles with a nice sky blue. 

“I certainly won’t miss those,” Jeongin says. 

“You’re not off the hook yet,” Seungmin says, giving Jeongin a serious look, “I’m sending you an exit interview via Google Forms.” 

Jeongin’s jaw drops, “You’re joking, right?” he asks, nervously looking around the group, “He’s joking, right?” 

Seungmin suppresses his giggles. Of course he’s kidding, but he loves exceeding people’s expectations for how neurotic he can be. Maybe he should actually create an exit interview, just to fuck with Jeongin more. 

Minho is the only one who catches that Seungmin isn’t serious, giving him a secret smile, shoulder shaking slightly with his withheld laughter. 

Yeah, Seungmin can count on Minho to get him. 

The best part about film school is getting to direct his own short film. The worst part about film school is having to find people willing to be part of his film. Seungmin has two weeks before he has to start filming, and he still doesn’t have a main lead. 

He’s only just finished finalising his crew—many of them are first years looking for something to vamp up their portfolio. His cast are friends of friends he snagged from the performing arts department and he spent all semester trying to convince Huang Renjun—the best videographer in their year and someone who actually enjoys editing—to be his assistant director until he finally caved. 

(And Seungmin had been plenty convincing, he blew Renjun in an empty editing suite under the guise of ‘wanting help with After Effects’ after he finally agreed. Seungmin is not above using sex to get what he wants.) 

But he’d spend so much time pursuing Renjun that now he has to scramble to find a main lead, and most of the actors he knows have already committed to other film projects. 

“Did you have any actors in mind?” Jisung asks, when Seungmin rambles to him about his uni struggles over coffee. 

They ran into each other on campus and Seungmin suggested grabbing coffee at his favourite coffee cart—batting his eyelashes until Jisung agreed to pay for his—and now they’re taking a relaxing stroll through campus before Seungmin has his next class. They’ve been hanging out more, now that he knows Jisung is friends with most of Seungmin’s friends too, mostly Minho. He actually enjoys Jisung’s company outside of sex, which is rare with Seungmin’s regular hookups. 

“Of course I do,” Seungmin says with a wistful sigh, “Hwang Hyunjin. He’s my dream main lead, but he’s always so busy.”

He worked with Hyunjin in first year. He’s a performing arts major with incredible talent—not to mention visuals that would give any k-drama male lead a run for his money—but he’s also president of the theatre club and in the dance club, which means his schedule is busier than Seungmin’s. It’s so hard to get in touch with him, let alone tie him down. 

“Oh, Minho hyung’s mentee,” Jisung comments.

Seungmin halts, “What?” 

Jisung takes a few steps forward before he realises that Seungmin stopped walking. He turns and tilts his head, “Yeah, he’s helping Hyunjin with the choreo for his final showcase. Didn’t he tell you?” 

“No,” Seungmin huffs out, “I think I would remember hyung telling me he’s mentoring The Hwang Hyunjin.” 

“You’re acting like he’s a celebrity or something.” 

“He might as well be,” Seungmin mutters, then with resolution, “I need him in my film.” 

He furrows his brows, an idea formulating in his head. He remembers that Minho is at the dance studio all day today. He pulls up their calendar on his phone and surely enough, Mentoring 3-4 is there in sky blue. He checks the time, 3:55pm. 

“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing Jisung’s hand and dragging him back to the dance studios. 

Jisung makes a startled sound, slotting their fingers together and scrambling to catch up with Seungmin’s long strides. “Where are we going?” 

“Hyung is with Hyunjin right now, ” he says, “We’re getting my actor.” 

Minho’s favourite studio is on the seventh floor, because it has the best audio system in the building and a great view of the city skyline. Seungmin knows this because he’s spent many late nights trying to coax Minho out of the studio with food from his favourite Thai place. Sometimes Minho will give in to Seungmin’s puppy-dog eyes and go home, other times he’ll stubbornly dig his heels into the squeaky vinyl floors and Seungmin will sit in the studio with him and work until Minho tires himself out.

So, like the creature of habit he is, Minho is outside the seventh floor studio when Jisung and Seungmin arrive. He’s chatting with Hyunjin outside the studio door, Seungmin drags Jisung with him as they approach the pair. 

“Hyung, hi!” Seungmin calls, waving to them with his free hand. 

Minho startles, turning away from Hyunjin and raising a questioning eyebrow at the two of them. His eyes trail down to their interlocked hands and something flickers. 

“Are you guys dating now?” Minho asks them, a hard edge to his tone. Seungmin suddenly feels like he’s done something wrong. He rips his hand out of Jisung’s grasp. 

Jisung however, thinks nothing of it. “No, we’re just holding hands. I hold your hand too, hyung.” 

“Really?” Seungmin asks, lips dropping to a pout, “Hyung never holds my hand. He always slaps me when I try.” 

“Because you’re gross,” Minho retorts childishly, irritated tone chipping away. 

Seungmin pokes his tongue out. 

Hyunjin giggles from beside Minho, and Seungmin straightens up. He almost forgot why he came here in the first place. Damn Lee Minho. 

“Hwang Hyunjin, right?” Seungmin greets with a slight bow of his head.

Hyunjin nods with a polite smile. “I remember you, Kim Seungmin, first year media studies?” 

“Yep, that’s me,” Seungmin says, casting a coy look between Minho and Hyunjin, “I didn’t know you knew my hyung.” 

He catches the exact moment realisation dawns on Minho’s face. He shoots a warning look Seungmin’s way, one that says, ‘what the fuck are you up to?’.

“Oh yeah!” Hyunjin says brightly, “Minho hyung’s been a great teacher.” 

“Hyunjin is an adequate student,” Minho says neutrally, his stare boring holes into the side of Seungmin’s face. 

Hyunjin laughs, probably used to Minho’s tsundere tendencies by now. 

“We’ve made progress!” Hyunjin says, “He only threatens me with bodily harm twice a day, it used to be way more frequent.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t take him seriously,” Seungmin says with a wink, “He’s all bark and no bite.” 

“If anyone’s a dog here it’s you,” Minho shoots back sweetly. 

Hyunjin laughs again, eyes raking over Seungmin as he considers him. “You are very puppy-like, it’s true.”

Seungmin tilts his head, if he had dog ears they’d be perking up right now. Maybe this will be easier than he thought. “How have you been? Still doing performing arts?” 

Hyunjin makes a face, “And dancing. I wouldn’t wish double majoring on my worst enemy. What about you? How’s film?” 

“Stressful,” Seungmin says, planting the seed., “I have to start shooting my short film soon.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes widen in recognition, “Oh, right, a few film majors have reached out to me about being in their film. Honestly it’d be amazing for my portfolio but none of their scripts have really stood out to me.” 

“Oh?” Seungmin says, taking a bold step closer, “Well, not everyone can be as talented at script-writing as me.” 

“Of course not,” Hyunjin agrees easily, “I remember how fun it was shooting our concept film in first year.” 

“I’m actually looking for a lead actor,” Seungmin says, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice. “If you’re interested?” 

Hyunjin’s face crumples into an apologetic expression, “I don’t know… like I said, a few people have reached out to me and I don’t really have time for multiple projects.” 

“How about I just send you a script,” Seungmin says, “No commitments, you can just read over it and let me know what you think?” 

“Sure,” Hyunjin agrees, “I’d love to read it.” 

“Great, I’ll DM it to you,” Hyunjin’s nods, blonde locks falling out of his ponytail and onto his face. Seungmin reaches forward and tucks the hair behind his ear. “And maybe we can talk about it over coffee?”

Hyunjin’s cheeks dust with a pretty pink. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Seungmin grins, feeling very much like a cat who got the cream. There’s no way Hyunjin will choose anyone else’s script once he reads Seungmin’s. 

“I’ll let you go then,” he says, stepping back. 

Hyunjin clears his throat, seemingly remembering that they have company. He bows to Minho and then to Jisung. “See you guys around,” he says before scurrying off to the lifts. 

When Seungmin turns back to the other two, Minho is wearing an expression of mild disgust, and Jisung just looks proud. 

“What the fuck did you just make me witness?” Minho demands. 

Seungmin answers his question with another, “Why didn’t you tell me you were mentoring Hwang Hyunjin?!” 

“Again, I didn’t realise it was your business.” 

“Hyung,” Seungmin whines, “He’s the best actor in school and you know I’ve been looking for my main lead.” His lips drop to a pout and he lets out a defeated sigh, “Now it might be too late because he’s already gotten other offers.” 

Minho doesn’t fall for the kicked puppy act, he lets out an annoyed huff, “So your strategy was to flirt with him so he’ll choose you?” 

“That’s always my strategy!” 

“It’s pretty effective,” Jisung comments. 

Minho cuts him a look, “Don’t you start.”

Jisung holds his hands up in surrender. Seungmin frowns, Minho sounds actually upset about him flirting with Hyunjin. Just like he was the morning after Seungmin and Jisung slept together. It’s not hard to connect the dots. 

“I knew it,” he says, “It does bother you when I fuck your juniors.” 

Minho’s eyebrows fly up, “You never said anything about fucking Hyunjin!” 

“I mean,” Seungmin feels his cheeks warm up, “he’s pretty. It’s not off the table.” 

“Whatever,” Minho bristles, hooking his gym bag over his shoulder. He starts walking towards the lifts, Jisung and Seungmin follow him, they’re all heading to classes in the south campus buildings anyway. 

“It doesn’t bother me,” Minho continues as they wait for the lift, “If anything it’s a good thing. I have life-ruining knowledge on you, Kim Seungmin. I’ll tell Hyunjin enough embarrassing stories that he’ll never want to touch your dick.” 

“Ooh,” Jisung says, face lighting up, “Tell me, I wanna know.” 

The lift doors open, Seungmin shoves Minho inside, slapping his hand over Minho’s mouth. 

The glare Minho gives him is murderous, but Seungmin is immune by now. He keeps his mouth covered even when Minho licks his palm. 

“You’re supposed to talk me up, hyung!” Seungmin says, “He has to choose my film.” 

Minho shoves Seungmin off him, making him stumble back and hit the lift buttons. The doors close once Jisung walks in. 

Minho looks pleased as Seungmin rubs his sore arm. “Do you think he’ll choose your film after I tell him about the time you watched a 40 minute video on how to go down on a girl before hooking up with her for the first time?” 

Jisung bursts out laughing, “That’s the most Seungmin thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Seungmin flushes red, mortified. 

“Hey!” he protests indignantly, “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone. And you can make fun of me but my research paid off, Yuna had a great time.” 

“She came out as a lesbian two weeks later,” Minho reminds him. 

“And I’m honoured to be part of that journey.” 

Minho shakes his head, letting out a fond laugh. The elevator doors ding open to the busy ground floor. Seungmin makes a move to step out but Minho grabs his arm. 

His brown eyes soften slightly, “Don’t worry so much about your film. Your script is incredible, Hyunjin would be an idiot not to choose you.”

Seungmin swallows thickly, a wave of gratitude filling his chest. He knows his script is good, but it helps to hear it from others, especially from someone as averse to words of affirmation as Minho is. 

“Thank you, hyung.”

Minho hums, “I can talk you up to him if you want. I won’t even mention the Yuna thing.” 

 Seungmin laughs, “I’d appreciate it.” 

Minho leaves the lift first, marching away from the two of them after hurried goodbyes. After he’s gone, Jisung stares at Seungmin for a moment too long. 

“What?” Seungmin asks self-consciously.

Jisung shakes his head, pulling out of his thoughts. “Nothing it’s just—Minho is really sweet on you.” 

Seungmin snorts, “Did you miss the part where he slammed me into the elevator?” 

Jisung shrugs, “He’s just so…different around you. I can tell he really cares about you.”

Seungmin feels his face heat up. 

“I guess,” he mumbles. He never thought Minho acted different around him. He was always just…Minho. 

Jisung smiles, holding out his hand for Seungmin to take. “Forget I said anything, come on, I’ll walk you to class.” 

On the last day of filming, Seungmin treats his crew to dinner and drinks as a thank you. After dinner, he crowds Hyunjin against his front door and kisses him. They push the door open, giggly and sobering up from the tipsy rush that led them to kiss back at the bar. Seungmin kicks his shoes off and blindly tosses his keys onto the side table. He’ll clean it up later, before Minho gets back and yells at him for it. He’s out all night, said something about going clubbing with Chan and Jisung. Hopefully he comes home too drunk to notice that Seungmin has someone over. 

Hyunjin guides him back onto the couch. Their kiss breaks for barely a second before he’s diving back in and clambering onto Seungmin’s lap. Seungmin deepens the kiss and lets himself get lost in the feeling of Hyunjin on top of him, his hands running up and down Hyunjin’s waist. 

“You know,” Hyunjin pants against Seungmin’s mouth, “Minho hyung spoke highly of you.” 

“Really?” Seungmin hums, barely paying attention as he focuses on sucking a hickey into Hyunjin’s neck. 

“Mm, yeah,” Hyunjin breathes out, eyes shut and fingers curling into Seungmin’s hair. “He said I’d regret it if I didn’t choose you.” 

Seungmin kisses the tender bruise he leaves on Hyunjin’s neck, “He really needs to stop threatening people on my behalf.” 

Hyunjin giggles, “He wasn’t threatening me,” he pauses, “I think? He just said that if I had half a brain cell I’d choose your film over the other shitty ones. Word for word.” 

Seungmin smiles. That sounds like his Minho. 

“And?” he asks. Hyunjin’s hair falls over his face, Seungmin curls a loose strand around his fingers before pushing it back. “Did you regret it?” 

“Of course not,” Hyunjin replies, pressing his body flush against Seungmin’s, “It was fun, I can’t wait to see the finished product.” 

Seungmin groans, “Please don’t remind me of how much I have to edit.” 

Hyunjin laughs, he leaves a placating kiss on Seungmin’s lips, long and sweet. Seungmin curls his arms around Hyunjin’s tiny waist and pulls him closer. 

“But yeah, I fully thought you and Minho hyung were dating.” 

Seungmin lurches back. “Excuse me?” 

Hyunjin giggles, “Yeah, the whole dance team thinks you guys are dating. Isn’t that hilarious? I only realised you were single after you tried to kiss me tonight.”

“Oh,” Seungmin says dumbly, “Yeah, that’s hilarious. Haha.” 

It makes no sense? Why would the whole dance team think him and Minho are dating? Does Minho know about this? He’s about to open his mouth and voice his questions when Hyunjin dives back in to kiss him. 

And well, he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he kisses back. 

Only, Hyunjin’s words continue to linger in the back of his mind. Even as Seungmin guides Hyunjin to lay down under him. Even as Hyunjin’s shirt comes off and Seungmin’s follows. Hyunjin’s hands curl into his hair as he leaves a trail of kisses along his collarbones, and even then, he thinks, him and Minho? Dating? That’s ridiculous…right? 

He detaches his mouth from Hyunjin and sits up on his haunches. Hyunjin blinks his eyes open in slow surprise, dazed and flushed, “Why’d you stop?” 

“Why would the whole dance team think we’re dating?” 

Hyunjin’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?” 

“Me and Minho hyung, I mean.” 

“Oh,” Hyunjin breathes out, his hand trails down Seungmin’s back, landing on his ass. “Do you really want to talk about this right now?” 

Seungmin shrugs, “Sure.” 

Hyunjin sighs in defeat, “Fine. I don’t know, you guys are just always together.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Seungmin defends, “We’re friends, and roommates. We obviously spend a lot of time together.” 

“You always pick him up from dance practice, not even our instructor can get him to leave the studio. But he always leaves with you.” 

“I just wear him down by being annoying,” Seungmin says. He doesn’t understand how this leads to the conclusion that they’re dating. “You guys should try it.”

“We’d get our limbs cut off if we did,” Hyunjin says with an eye roll, “And he brought you food every day on set, that’s literally boyfriend behaviour.” 

“It’s friend behaviour, you know how hyung nags.” 

“No,” Hyunjin says dryly, “I really don’t.” 

“ You know hyung pretty well though, how did you think we were dating?” 

Hyunjin shrugs best he can in his position. Seungmin remembers that they’re horizontal and half-naked on the couch and shifts back to give Hyunjin space. This doesn’t seem to help, Hyunjin lets out a quiet groan.

“You should’ve heard the way Minho hyung was talking about you,” Hyunjin says, “When he was convincing me to choose your script—I’ve never heard his voice go that soft, and he got this look in his eye, almost like he was…” 

Hyunjin trails off. 

“What?” Seungmin says eagerly, hands on Hyunjin’s shoulders. He shifts on top of Hyunjin again. “Almost like he was what?” 

Hyunjin shakes his head hastily,  “Nothing.” 

“Wh—” 

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin says seriously, narrowing his eyes up at him, “I’m extremely horny right now and you are very hot and literally squirming on top of me. Do you want to keep talking about Minho hyung or do you want to dick me down?”

Right. Seungmin feels his face flush, they were in the middle of something until he interrupted. He presses an apologetic kiss to Hyunjin’s swollen lips and says, “Message received loud and clear. I’ll stop talking now.” 

“Thank fuck,” Hyunjun mutters, pulling Seungmin in for a bruising kiss. 

Minho barges through the doors of the editing suite and rips the headphones right off Seungmin’s head. Seungmin yelps, tearing his eyes away from the computer screen to meet Minho’s unimpressed stare. It takes his eyes a few moments to adjust from the glare of the screen, he blinks away the floaties and narrows his eyes at Minho. 

“How did you get in here?” he asks, reaching for the headphones again. Minho holds it out of his reach. 

Minho smirks, “I gently persuaded Park Jisung into giving me his access card.” 

Oh no. Park Jisung is the audio engineer on Seungmin’s film, he’s a genius but also extremely timid with strangers. He really hopes Minho didn’t scare the poor guy off, or make him cry. Or both.

“Park Jisung is easily frightened,” Seungmin warns. 

Minho’s smirk widens, “I know.” 

Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temples, “I’ll check on him later.” 

He makes another grab for the headphones but Minho snatches it away just in time. Whatever. Seungmin turns back to the computer. He doesn’t need his headphones to edit the footage for his film. He only had them in as a courtesy for the other students, but it seems he’s the only one here anyway. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Minho demands. 

“Uh,” Seungmin rubs his eyes. The colour grading on his film is a bitch to do, he’s been here so long that he can see his shots printed on the backs of his eyelids when he blinks. “Five?” 

“It’s eight.” 

“Huh,” Seungmin says without peeling his eyes off the screen, “Strange.” 

Minho makes a frustrated sound. Then, his entire world spins on its axis as Minho suddenly whirls his computer chair around so Seungmin is facing him. He blinks, re-adjusting to Minho’s face. 

Minho crowds Seungmin in his chair, putting one hand on either arm rest and leaning in. 

“Hi,” Seungmin says sheepishly, sensing the incoming lecture. 

“You haven’t been answering your phone,” Minho says, “Your calendar is blank, none of our friends have heard from you. You promised me you would stop disappearing.” 

There’s a worried waver in Minho’s voice, making guilt coil into Seungmin’s gut. He has a habit of going off the radar during assessment season. When he gets so overwhelmed with stress that he forgets the rest of the world exists, directing his focus on his deadlines and nothing else. He’s been working on being better, especially after realising how worried Minho gets over him. It’s the whole reason they synced calendars in the first place. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs out, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Minho’s scrutinising gaze. He becomes an open book when Minho is looking at him like that. “I just really need to get this done.” 

A feather light touch ghosts over his cheek, Minho’s calloused thumb traces over the swollen skin under Seungmin’s eye. His next touch is firmer, cradling Seungmin’s face in his hands. Holding him up, warm and grounding. 

“You’re finished for the day,” he says. It’s not a question or a request. He’s not giving Seungmin a choice. 

Foolish as always, Seungmin fights back anyway. 

“I’m almost done,” he says, “Just another hour and—”

“You can finish it tomorrow.” 

“But–” 

“Kim Seungmin.” 

Seungmin sighs. He does need a break. He’s hungry and feels worn out from rotting in front of a computer screen all day. He can’t even remember if he saw sunlight today. Minho’s relentless nagging is a blessing in disguise. They both know it. 

“Fine,” he groans. “Let me save my work and we can get dinner or something.” 

“Perfect,” Minho says with a pleased little smile. He releases his hold on Seungmin and gives him space to turn back around. Goosebumps rise on his skin as soon as Minho’s warm hands leave him, as if desperate to meet his touch again. “There’s a party tonight, pre-drinks are at Chan’s. We’re going.” 

Seungmin gives him a blank stare. He should’ve known Minho would have a hidden agenda. 

“I agreed to take a break, I didn’t agree to a party.” 

“You love parties,” Minho bristles. 

“Not when I’m stressed I don’t! And you didn’t give me any forewarning.” 

Minho rolls his eyes, “You need to learn how to be impulsive.” 

“No, thank you.” Seungmin says. He saves his work and shuts off the computer. 

Minho’s hand finds his hair, and for a second, Seungmin thinks he’s going to pull it. But he gently cards his fingers through Seungmin’s greasy locks, scratching lightly at his scalp like he’s a pet who needs placating. 

“It’ll help you unwind,” he murmurs, “We’ll get tipsy, dance a little and leave early if you want.” 

Seungmin relaxes under Minho’s touch. That does sound nice. 

“Fine,” he relents, “But you’re buying dinner.” 

Now, Minho pulls his hair. “I always buy, brat.” 

Pre-drinks, historically, are always way better than the actual party. 

Minho and Seungmin arrive at Chan's place with the drinks they promised to buy. They’re late because they spent an extra twenty minutes arguing over what to get at the liquor store. For how high and mighty he acts, Minho is a total lightweight. He only ever drinks those canned cocktails that are 5% alcohol and tooth-rottingly sweet. Seungmin called them glorified cough syrup and Minho bought three twelve packs out of spite. Now they have thirty-six of the same drink.

Jeongin and Felix are already there, fused into one entity on the couch. Legs tangled and heads pressed together while they play Mario Kart on Chan’s switch. Felix perks up when he sees them, cheeks flushed in a way that says he already started drinking. 

“Seungminnie!” he says, springing from the couch and wrapping him in a hug. “I can’t believe you came! Hyung said you locked yourself up in an editing suite.” 

Seungmin struggles to hug him back around the packs of drinks in his arms. He frees one hand and stiffly pats Felix’s back. “I’m here against my will, hyung held me at gunpoint.” 

He feels two fingers dig sharply against his back, Minho’s made a finger gun and is pretending to hold Seungmin at gunpoint. He leans in and whispers, “And I’d do it again.” 

It sends a shiver down Seungmin’s spine. 

Felix laughs, helping Seungmin with the drinks, “I’m glad he did, I missed you.” 

He snaps himself out of it, pretending Minho’s fingers pressed against the thin fabric of his shirt have no effect on him. 

“I missed you too, Lix.”

Jeongin makes a beeline for the drinks, stopping short when he sees the poor selection. He stares at the seemingly endless supply of bright pink cans, face scrunching with distaste. 

He looks accusingly at the two of them, “What fresh hell is this?” 

Minho smirks, unapologetic, “Seungmo talked shit and now everyone has to suffer,” he picks up a can and cracks it open, “Cheers bitch!” he says before downing it. 

Seungmin sighs, long and suffering. He pulls a small bottle out of his tote bag. “I also bought tequila.” 

“Oh thank god,” Jeongin says, making grabby hands for the bottle. “My thesis is killing me, I need to get fucked up tonight.” 

Felix makes a face of disapproval, “You can’t get fucked up, I’m getting fucked up.” 

Jeongin frowns, “Then who’s flying the plane?” 

Minho snorts, “You’re both idiots. Chan hyung’s DD tonight, just ask him to drive you.” 

“Where is he?” Seungmin asks, “I was gonna ask him for help on my film soundtrack.” 

“Seungmin,” Minho warns, “You promised me you’d take a break.” 

“And I am!” Seungmin defends, “I just want to ask him one question.” 

“Fine,” Minho says, “ One question. That’s it.” 

“Yes, hyung,” Seungmin chimes obediently. He turns Jeongin, who is regarding both Minho and Seungmin with an odd expression, “Well?” 

“He’s in the kitchen,” Jeongin answers, “They’re making Pina Coladas but I don’t think it’s going well.” 

“They?” Seungmin asks, making his way to the kitchen, “Who else is here?” 

He finds his answer when he pushes open the kitchen door to find Chan and Changbin wrestling over a carton of coconut milk. 

“Give it here!” Changbin yells.

“ Nooo, ” Chan whines, “You put too much.” 

“That’s what makes it taste good.” 

“It tastes like shit.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet!”  

“Hi,” Seungmin says, the two boys jump apart. He grins and waves. 

Changbin blinks, buffering for a second before waving back. This is his first time meeting Changbin. He’s close to both Minho and Chan, but Changbin’s a music major and they aren’t really part of the same circles, so Seungmin’s only ever heard of him.

 “Hi, Seungmin right? I’ve seen you on Minho hyung’s Instagram.” 

“Oh God,” Seungmin groans. Minho only ever posts embarrassing pictures of him on Instagram, the latest one being Seungmin in the morning, face dotted with pimple patches and a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, poetically captioned, ‘ugly’. “I can’t believe that’s how you recognise me. Hyung is ruining my reputation.” 

Changbin laughs, it’s a pretty sound, Seungmin wants to hear it again. He’s wearing a tank top tucked into a pair of jeans, which is plenty distracting on its own, but it’s made even more distracting when he snatches the coconut milk back from Chan with an iron grip, biceps clenching. Okay.

“No, his posts of you are always cute,” Changbin assures him, forcing Seungmin’s gaze to snap back to his eyes. 

“I promise I’m better looking in real life,” Seungmin says, then realises what he’s wearing and flushes with embarrassment. He didn’t dress to impress anyone tonight, since he was only expecting to see his friends and the forgettable faces of the party-goers that’ll blur into one when he gets drunk enough. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweats that Jeongin calls his ‘fuckboy sweats’ and has his greasy hair shoved into a beanie. His skin is in a horrendous state from all the stress picking and he hasn’t had proper sleep in two days so the dark circles are in full force. He should’ve taken Minho’s offer to do his makeup. He grimaces and finishes with, “And when it’s not assessment season.”

Changbin smiles good-naturedly, “Don’t worry, I get it. And you look cute now too.” 

Seungmin laughs, “Thanks for lying.” 

“No really! I’m loving the greasy gamer boy chic.” 

It makes Seungmin laughs harder, “Okay, rude. I’m not even a gamer,” he gives Changbin an appreciative onceover, letting his eyes linger on the swell of his arms this time and says, “You look good too.” 

Changbin glows pink, smile bashful. Chan clears his throat.

Right. He’s here too. 

He gives Chan a hug in greeting, masterfully dodging when he tries to pepper Seungmin’s face with kisses. Chan asks him how uni is going, which leads them to talking about Seugmin’s film—his favourite thing to talk about at the moment. And Chan in turn shares his advice and how his own music projects are going. Changbin occasionally chimes in, talking about his own work. Seungmin nods along and pretends he knows a damn thing about producing music while figuring out how to subtly get his hands on Changbin’s arms without it seeming like he’s throwing himself. It’s a difficult feat. 

By the time they leave the kitchen, Seungmin’s two shitty Pina Coladas in and giggly enough to laugh at all of Changbin’s jokes. The other three look like they’re in a similar state, Jeongin and Felix cheers to a shot of tequila and Minho is opening his third can. His cheeks are flushed and pretty, a sated smile on his face as he leans back against the couch. He’s tipsy enough to reach out for Seungmin when he walks past and not think twice about pulling him halfway onto his lap. Seungmin suppresses his laugh, making a note to make fun of Minho for his drunk clinginess later. 

They do another round of shots, and Changbin sits on the other side of Seungmin, their thighs pressing together. 

“Hyung,” Changbin says, waving to get Minho’s attention, “Hyung, hyung, guess what I heard?” 

Minho blinks slowly at him, belatedly registering that he’s being spoken to. 

“Hi Changbinnie,” he greets sweetly, “What did you hear?” 

“Yeonjun has a crush on you.” 

Seungmin shoots up, alert, “What?” 

Minho doesn’t seem phased. “Cool.” 

“Who is Yeonjun?” Seungmin demands, he suddenly feels sobered up. Maybe he should have another shot and calm the fuck down.

“Choi Yeonjun,” Changbin answers, “Friend of mine, and he’s on the dance team with hyung.” 

“Really?” Seungmin turns on Minho, “You’ve never talked about him before.” 

Minho shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. His ears are a rosy pink now. “He just joined. He listens well.” 

Changbin rolls his eyes, “Okay, but what do you think of him? I’m trying to be a good wingman here.” 

A surge of annoyance runs through Seungmin. He suddenly wants to punt Changbin. Minho clearly isn’t interested! 

“He’s pretty,” Minho comments. Nevermind, then.  “And tall. Really tall.” 

“Is he actually tall or are you just short?” Seungmin teases, trying to keep his tone casual. He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up over this. It’s just that, Minho doesn’t date much, he rarely ever shows interest in people. Pretty and tall. That’s basically a love confession coming from someone like Minho. 

“Oh, he’s tall, ” Changbin says appreciatively “Like over six feet.”

Okay. Seungmin officially hates this guy. 

Whatever.

“We should head to the party,” he says, standing suddenly and jostling Minho in the process. “Hyung promised me we’d leave early.” 

“Oh right, I did do that,” Minho says easily, standing with Seungmin. He weaves their fingers together—something he only does when he’s drunk so he can pretend he doesn’t remember the next morning. And pulls Seungmin with him to the front door. Seungmin smiles secretly to himself, take that Yeonjun.

The party sucks. 

Well, first it starts off pretty fun. They run into Jisung as soon as they arrive, which is a nice surprise, and Minho disappears into the kitchen to get himself a drink. The music selection is pretty good, which is expected for a party thrown by the dance students. And the entire lounge has been cleared out into a makeshift dancefloor, floorboards trembling as people jump up and down. Seungmin and Jisung find a secluded corner to chill in while they wait for Minho to come back, yelling over the music to hear each other. 

“Here’s your drink,” Minho says when he comes back, shoving a red solo cup in Seungmin’s direction, “I put hydrochloric acid in it.” 

“Aw,” Seungmin coos sweetly as he accepts the cup, “Promise?” 

Minho gives him a sarcastic smile in return. Jisung laughs at the two of them, eyes glimmering with amusement. 

It starts off fun because Minho curls his fingers around Seungmin’s wrist and pulls him to the dance floor. Keeping his promise of dancing with Seungmin, he twirls him on the dance floor to an abhorrent remix of Souja Boy and laughs at him for his awkward gangly moves. It’s fun because it’s rare for Minho to let go like this, act silly with Seungmin and pretend no one else exists but them. 

It’s less fun when Seungmin leaves to get them more drinks, and comes back to find someone tall and pretty flirting with Minho. His grip tightens around his cup. Choi Yeonjun. 

This is where the party starts sucking—when Minho pulls Yeonjun onto the dance floor and wraps his arms around his neck in a way he’s never done to Seungmin. They barely keep their hands off each other, bodies moving against each other to the beat of the shitty song that plays. Seungmin is sulking in the corner with two cups of vodka lemonade in his hands when Jisung finds him again. Seungmin hands him Minho’s drink, trying not to show that he’s upset. 

He’s clearly doing a bad job of it. 

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asks, “Where did hyung go?” 

Seungmin nods towards the dance floor, bitterly saying, “He found a friend.” 

“Oh,” Jisung says, scanning the crowd and eyes going wide when they land on Yeonjun and Minho, who are fully feeling each other up by now. He whistles, “Good for hyung!” 

Seungmin scoffs, “I guess.” 

Jisung turns to him, eyebrows pinching together. “You sound upset.” 

“Of course I’m upset!” Seungmin half-yells, “Hyung is the one who dragged me to this party in the first place, you’d think he’d hang out with me .” 

“You danced together for like, an hour,” 

“But now he’s dancing with Yeonjun .” Seungmin spits his name out like something unpleasant. Maybe he’s not being fair to Yeonjun, he doesn’t even know the guy. But whatever, he’s drunk and upset. 

“Seungmin,” Jisung says, giving Seungmin an odd look. He’s been getting a lot of those lately, his friends looking at him like they’re trying to understand him. Minho doesn’t look at him like that, Minho understands him. “Are you jealous?” 

“What?” Seungmin all but screeches, “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m just mad at hyung for ditching me at the party.” 

“I mean, all your other friends are here,” he nods to where Jeongin and Felix are together in the kitchen, and across the room, Changbin is chatting with a few of his friends. Changbin. This is all his fault. Minho wouldn’t have taken an interest in Yeonjun if he hadn’t said anything in the first place. “And you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.” 

Seungmin stares at Jisung in complete disbelief, jaw dropping slightly. “Excuse me?” 

“What?” Jisung says, giving Seungmin a knowing look, “It’s how you’re acting. Why do you care so much about who Minho hyung is dancing with?” 

Seungmin huffs. Jisung must be drunker than he thought. 

“Whatever,” he says, “I don’t care. You’re right, I have other friends here. I’m going to go find them.” 

Jisung frowns, “Seungmin—wait—I didn’t mean to upset you—” 

Seungmin doesn’t wait to hear the end of it. He turns on his heel and goes to find Changbin. 

Changbin is strong and handsome and hangs onto every word that leaves Seungmin’s mouth. He’s also a good kisser, which Seungmin discovers when Changbin has him pinned against the bathroom sink with hands roughly gripping his waist.  He has to tiptoe to kiss Seungmin, which is really cute, Seungmin smiles into the kiss giving Changbin prime opportunity to deepen it with his tongue. He pulls away and Changbin chases him, dragging Seungmin’s bottom lip through his teeth in a way that makes him groan. 

Changbin grins, cute and sweet and a complete contrast to the hand dipping under Seungmin’s shirt, warm and calloused, running over his bare stomach. 

“You’re pretty,” Changbin murmurs, pressing a shorter kiss to Seungmin’s jaw. 

And tall? Seungmin wants to ask, but he swallows it down. Now is not the time. 

Instead he pulls Changbin in for another kiss, messier, sloppier, his hands running up and down Changbin’s bare arms. Changbin slides his leg between Seungmin’s, holding him flush against him. Seungmin pulls back, short of breath and heartbeat thundering. 

“Can I suck you off?” he asks. 

Changbin’s eyes widen, red flush rising up his neck. “Yes, please. ” 

“Neat.” 

He gently nudges Changbin back and drops down to his knees. He undoes Changbin’s jeans and pulls them down, leaning in to mouth at the thin layer of fabric covering his quickly hardening cock. Seungmin has yet to master the art of being sexy, but when he looks up—batting his eyelashes and lips parted—the look on Changbin’s face tells him he’s close enough. 

He peels back Changbin’s briefs and guides his hand back to Seugmin’s hair. “You can pull if you want.” 

He doesn’t wait for a response before taking Changbin in his mouth. 

And as soon as he does, the bathroom door bursts open. 

Seungmin doesn’t register it at first, too caught up with pulling pretty sounds out of Changbin, until he hears a mortified and unwelcomingly familiar voice shout, “What the— Kim Seungmin?!” 

Seungmin’s blood runs cold. 

This can’t be real. His half-buzzed brain must be hallucinating that voice. But surely enough, when he cracks his eyes open, he finds Minho standing at the open bathroom door, eyes wide and jaw dropped in shock. He makes eye contact with Seungmin and his soul seems to snap back into his body, he lets out a pained scream and covers his face with his hands. 

Seungmin jerks back so fast the back of his head slams into the bathroom sink. Changbin yelps, just as startled, and scrambles to pull his pants back up. 

“Why didn’t you lock the door?” Seungmin snaps, rubbing the back of his sore head. 

“I thought you did!”

“Oh my fucking shit,” Minho is letting out a string of curse words, frozen at the door and hands covering his eyes. His ears are a flaming red, the brightest it’s ever been. 

“Hyung,” Seungmin wheezes out, scrambling to his feet, “I—I’m—” what the fuck do you say when your roommate catches you blowing his friend? “I’m sorry?” 

Changbin snorts. Seungmin slaps his arm, helpful bastard, see if Seungmin is touching his dick ever again. “We thought the door was locked. Sorry you had to see that.”

Minho rips his hands away from his face, and his glare is menacing. He considers Changbin first and then cuts a death glare Seungmin’s way, eyes brimming with anger like Seungmin’s never seen before. 

“My ex-boyfriend?” Minho snarls, “Are you fucking serious, Seungmin?” 

Seungmin’s eyes widen, “What?” 

Then, he realises the look in Minho’s face isn’t anger, it’s hurt. It feels like a bucket of ice water being poured over him.

“I—hyung—I didn’t know.” 

“Whatever,” Minho grits out. His neck is flushed and he stumbles when he takes a step back. He must be drunker than he was when Seungmin left him, of course he is. Sober Minho wouldn’t dare react so explosively, no matter how badly he’s hurt by Seungmin.

“Sorry for interrupting, I guess,” he says coldly, unable to mask the tremor in his voice. 

“Hyung, wait—I really didn’t know!”

He turns and storms out of the bathroom before Seungmin can get another word in.

Seungmin sighs tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He’s such an idiot. This is why he shouldn’t do things impulsively. He’s letting this be a lesson for next time. 

He snaps his eyes to Changbin and jabs an accusatory finger into his chest, “Why didn’t you tell me you’re hyung’s ex!” 

Changbin’s eyes are still wide, cheeks rosy. “I didn’t think it was important? We dated for, like, a couple months in first year.” 

“He seemed so upset though,” Seungmin says with a frown. “Does he still like you or something?” 

Changbin’s eyebrows crease, he seems to realise something that Seungmin doesn’t catch.

 “You know what,” he begins, “I don’t think it’s me that was the problem.” 

This makes Seungmin’s frown deepen. What the hell is that supposed to mean? 

“I should go check on him,” Seungmin says. He lifts Changbin’s chin and plants a soft kiss to his lips, “Sorry for dipping. I’ll make it up to you, okay?” 

Changbin smiles, “No worries, go check on Minho hyung.” 

He really is so sweet. Seungmin feels guilty for mentally calling him unhelpful. He’ll make it up to him later; right now, he’s going to go find Minho. 

He doesn’t have to search that far because as soon he leaves the bathroom, he gets a text. 

Lee Minho (Apartment 4B)

Getting a cab. You have 5 minutes.

He finds Minho sitting on the sidewalk outside the house, hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie and face tucked into his collar to fend from the cold. Seungmin smiles fondly at the sight of him, shivering and tiny, sitting on the side of the road like a stray cat. Minho has never been able to handle the cold well, he does a bad job of dressing for it too. 

Seungmin quietly takes the seat next to Minho. The music from the party can still be heard from the street, muted by the sounds of cars driving by and the cheers from people playing beer pong in the front lawn. Seungmin takes his beanie off and puts it on Minho. 

“Gross,” Minho mutters, but he adjusts the beanie so it fits him better, “I know you didn’t wash your hair.” 

Seungmin swallows nervously, “Are you mad at me?”

A pause. “No.” 

“You seemed mad earlier.” 

“I was just surprised.” 

“I really didn’t know you guys dated.”

“So you said,” Minho’s voice is painfully nonchalant. The hurt and betrayal from earlier drained from it like it was never there. It only frustrates Seungmin further, he wants to shake Minho like a coke can. 

“I wouldn’t have even approached him if I knew he was your ex.” 

“Okay.” 

“Can you at least look at me?” Seungmin snaps. 

Minho turns his head, bored expression on his face. He blinks expectantly. 

“What do you want from me, Seungmin-ah?” Minho asks tiredly, “Do you want my blessing to go back in there and fuck my ex?” 

“Of course not,” Seungmin defends, volume pitching louder than it needs to be. “I wasn’t even planning on getting with Changbin tonight, I just saw you and Yeonjun together and—”

“What?” Minho cuts sharply. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Nothing,” Seungmin mumbles, face heating up in embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to say that last part, too caught up in explaining himself. “I just—you ditched me at the party to dance with Choi Yeonjun. I was annoyed, and bored.” 

He winces at how childish he sounds, throwing a tantrum like a kid who didn’t get enough attention. 

Minho scoffs, humourless. “So, it’s my fault?” 

“No!” Seungmin says, “But I came to this stupid party because of you, because you said you would dance with me but—then you just—I’m—” he takes a breath, “Do you like Yeonjun?” 

Minho’s eyebrows fly up in surprise, at least Seungmin is able to pull some sort of emotion from him. 

“Why does it matter?”

“Just answer the question!” 

Minho scowls, and Seungmin bites his tongue, realising his mistake. Minho hates being snapped at. Seungmin knows this better than anyone, he should know this. Minho isn’t a hard person to understand, and Seungmin figured this out within the first six months of living with him. As quick-witted and harsh he liked to be, he responded better to gentleness. 

He recollects himself and mutters, “Sorry for yelling.”

“You’re being really weird tonight, Seungmin,” Minho says quietly, he doesn’t sound angry anymore. Just exhausted, defeated, which is probably worse. Seungmin would rather Minho just yell at him. “You don’t get to act like this.” 

“Like what?” 

He looks at Seungmin carefully, clipped and dry, he says, “Like a jealous boyfriend.” 

Jisung said the same thing, but it catches him off guard the same way. 

Seungmin scoffs, crossing his arms, “I am not—” 

“You are,” Minho jabs a finger into Seungmin’s chest, annoyance flickering over his features, “And it’s not fair. I have stood by and watched you fuck literally all of my friends, you don’t get to be jealous over me dancing with someone for one night.” 

Seungmin swallows around the lump in his throat. He’s hearing Minho’s words but he’s not—that can’t be right. 

“I’m not jealous,” he says weakly. 

Minho is looking at him with something like pity, Seungmin shifts uncomfortably. He feels like he’s laid out bare and Minho is seeing parts of him that he can’t even see himself. 

The yellow glow of headlights washes over them, and the cab pulls over. Minho stands up and dusts off his jacket. Seungmin's legs feel like they’ll give out if he tries to stand. Minho holds his hand out, and Seungmin unconsciously takes it, letting himself get pulled up. Minho dusts off his jacket too. 

His palm lingers over Seungmin’s chest, heartbeat jumping to meet Minho’s touch, when he says, “You need to figure out what you want, Seungmin-ah.” 

Things get weirder after that, especially when Jisung sends him a calendar invite for coffee. It’s weird because Jisung has never utilised the calendar before, he never responds to Seungmin’s invites, Seungmin always has to text him and remind him they’re meeting up. So, when Seungmin gets the invite for coffee at the campus cafe that afternoon, he figures it must be important. He clears his schedule and accepts Jisung’s invitation. 

Jisung looks nervous when Seungmin arrives, there’s a slice of cheesecake between them with two forks. He’s halfway through his own iced americano while Seungmin’s sits on the table collecting condensation. Jisung gives him a weary smile when Seungmin takes the seat opposite to him. 

“Hi.” 

Seungmin smiles back, “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah, no, I’m great,” Jisung says, drumming his fingers against the table. Seungmin gives it a pointed look and his fingers still, “What about you?” 

“I’m good,” Seungmin answers, his own leg starts bouncing. Jisung’s nervous energy is contagious, “If this is about the party, I’m sorry for snapping at you. I was…” Jealous? Petty? Stressed out of his fucking mind? “...Drunk,” is what he settles on. 

Jisung waves him off, “No hard feelings, we’ve all been there.” 

Seungmin doesn’t know what exactly he means by there, but he shrugs it off. 

“So…if this isn’t about the party, then what is it?” 

Jisung’s fingers start drumming against the table again. 

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he says, “About us.” 

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, “Okay?” 

“And I think it’s best if we called things off between us,” he says quickly, like he can’t get the words out fast enough. 

“Oh,” Seungmin says, taken aback, “Why?” 

Jisung makes a strangled sort of noise, he’s looking everywhere but Seungmin. “It’s just for the best.” 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!” Jisung meets his gaze, he reaches over and takes Seungmin’s hand in both of his. Seungmin oddly feels like he’s getting broken up with. “Of course not! You’re great.” 

“Okay,” Seungmin says, squeezing back, “Are you seeing someone, then?” 

“Ah, no.” 

Seungmin’s brain jumps to the next logical conclusion, “Then did you…fall for me?” 

He cringes as soon as the words tumble out of his mouth. Jisung doesn’t help, he bursts out laughing. 

“Don’t laugh!” Seungmin whines, smacking his arm, “It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened!” 

Jisung only laughs harder, collapsing back into his chair. 

“I’m just trying to understand why, ” Seungmin huffs, “This is all so sudden. We were going well, weren’t we?”

Jisung sobers up, softening slightly, “Yeah we were! You’re a really great friend Seungminnie, I just think we should keep our friendship strictly friends, no benefits.”

“My friendship itself is a benefit,” Seungmin adds sulkily. 

Jisung giggles fondly, “Of course it is.”

He squeezes Seungmin’s hands, playing with his fingers as he chooses his next words.  Seungmin lets himself relax, at least he won’t be losing Jisung, he still wants to be friends. Over the past few months, Seungmin has come to appreciate Jisung’s friendship. He carries himself with a gentle honestly, he’s never one to sugar-coat words but he’ll never be unkind about them either. Like right now: 

“I really care about you Seungminnie,” Jisung says, “And I care about Minho-hyung too.” 

Seungmin doesn’t say anything, startled by the sudden change in conversation. 

“This thing between us,” Jisung hesitates, choosing his words very, very carefully, “It’s been hurting him. And I don’t want to hurt him anymore.” 

Seungmin frowns, confused. “Why would it hurt him?” 

Jisung doesn’t answer, he only gives Seungmin a sad sort of look. It feels like pity, but Seungmin doesn’t understand why he’s being pitied. 

He stubbornly pushes forward, “Did hyung say something to you?” 

Jisung shakes his head, “No, he didn’t need to. I just know him, better than he knows himself sometimes.” 

That makes irritation flare up inside Seungmin. I know hyung too, he thinks bitterly. He makes an annoyed tch sound under his breath. 

“You’re being awfully vague.” 

“I know,” Jisung says, twinkle in his eye, “Let me be mysterious and unknowable for once, I’m trying to practice the art of shutting up.” 

That’s another thing Seungmin appreciates about Jisung, he knows how to lighten the mood. 

“Finally, some peace and quiet.”

“Um, rude,” Jisung says indignantly, “You never want me quiet, especially when we’re–”

The rest of his sentence goes muffled because Seungmin launches across the table and slaps his hand over Jisung’s mouth, nearly getting an elbow of cheesecake in the process. 

“On second thought, I don’t think this friends-no-benefits thing is going to work,” Seungmin comments, “Not if you’re going to make distasteful jokes like that.” 

Jisung licks a wet stripe of Seungmin’s palm. He yelps and pulls away in disgust. 

“Too late!” Jisung chimes cheerfully, “You’re never getting rid of me, baby.” 

Seungmin can’t stop thinking about what Jisung said. 

It doesn’t leave his mind, Jisung’s wistful expression as he said, this thing between us, it’s been hurting him. It follows him for the rest of the day, to his Film Theory class, to work and all the way home. 

He trudges home after his late night shift to find the light in Minho’s room still on. The door is slightly ajar, spilling a warm yellow light into the dark hallway. The rational part of his brain knows he should just go to his own room, he has an early start tomorrow and is itching to change out of his work clothes. But something about Minho has always made Seungmin’s rationality go 404 ERROR! NOT FOUND!

He pushes the door open. 

Minho lifts his head, hair messy and skin shiny. He’s curled around his laptop while it plays the recent show he’s been bingeing. He’s under two blankets and his heater is on full blast. 

“Hi,” Seungmin says, feeling out of breath for no reason.

“You’re back late.” 

“They’re filming an episode tomorrow, all the interns had to stay late.” 

“A text would’ve been nice.” 

Seungmin juts out his lower lip, dragging his feet as he shuffles into the room. 

“It completely slipped my mind, it’ll never happen again.” 

“Good.” 

Seungmin lifts one knee onto the bed—testing out the waters—when Minho makes no move to push him off, he slides under the blankets. 

“Did you wait up for me, hyung?” 

Minho wrinkles his nose, “Gross. Your clothes are dirty.” 

Seungmin scoots closer and presses his cheek to Minho’s shoulder, taking a page out of the Lee Felix book of clinginess. He usually isn’t so touchy but—he’s in a mood today. 

“You didn’t have to wait up, hyung must be tired.” 

“You smell bad,” Minho complains, lifting his arm around Seungmin’s shoulder to give him space to cuddle closer, “Like really bad. Did you bathe in chemicals?” 

“It’s spray paint,” Seungmin says, “I spent all night spray painting fake gold coins for a prop.” 

“They overwork you,” Minho scolds, the same tired out lecture he gives Seungmin every time he comes home late from work. “I bet you offered to stay back, didn’t you? They’re taking advantage of your nice face and inability to say no.”

Seunteungmin raises an amused eyebrow, “Nice face?” 

Minho, for the third time completely breezes over what Seungmin says, “Internships are a sham.” 

Seungmin laughs, his arms carefully wrap around Minho’s waist. Cuddling with Minho is a dangerous game, like petting a cat’s belly, but Minho doesn’t scratch him this time. 

“It’ll be worth it when I’m making box office movies.” 

“Maybe then you’ll finally pay me back for all those coffees.” 

Seungmin laughs, rubbing his cheek against Minho’s shoulder. He’s so warm. 

“This episode is boring,” Minho says softly, shifting his laptop onto his lap while trying not to jostle Seungmin’s head. “Do you want to watch something together?” 

Seungmin brightens up, “Can I pick?” 

Minho groans, “Fine, but I get full vetoing rights and I’m not watching anything in French.” 

“I—” 

“And nothing made before the 21st century either. Or anything with Timothee Chalamet in it. Actually, nevermind, I’m picking the film.”

Seungmin scoffs. He’s way past being offended when his friends make fun of him for his, quote, Film Bro Movie Taste, unquote, but he’ll still pout about it. He can enjoy a trashy romance drama and a gripping black-and-white movie at the same time, okay, he has two hands!

“I’ll probably fall asleep halfway through, anyway,” Seungmin says, “Pick whatever you want. I’ll pick next time.” 

Minho gives a smug little smile. It’s not like he would’ve listened if Seungmin fought back anyway. He opens up Disney+ on a new tab—Seungmin bites down his quip about Minho willingly giving money to the very company that’s killing cinema—and settles in quietly as they watch Finding Nemo. 

Even with the movie playing and Minho pressed right up against him, Seungmin’s mind wanders again to his conversation with Jisung. They’re fifteen minutes into the film when Seungmin finally asks:

“Hyung, are you still mad at me?” 

He doesn’t even pause the movie to answer, expression unchanging as he says, “You’re in my bed in your outside clothes. I wouldn’t have allowed this if I was mad at you.”

That’s a good point. Seungmin reconsiders his question. 

“Are you—Am I hurting you?”

Minho goes still. This time, he pauses the movie. 

“What?” he asks, voice thin and sharp like the snap of a rubber band, “Why would you ask me something like that?”

Seungmin doesn’t falter, “Am I doing something that’s hurting you?”

What he doesn’t ask is this: do you hate me?

Minho turns to face him, the laptop slipping off his lap.

“Seungmin-ah,” Minho whispers, gentle in a way he never sounds with Seungmin. His lifts his hands and traces the line of Seungmin’s jaw with his index finger. His touch is feather light, so bare that Seungmin thinks he’s imagining it, his breath catches in his throat. Minho has a strange look on his face, one Seungmin doesn’t recognise. 

And for one idiotic second, Seungmin thinks Minho is going to kiss him. 

He doesn’t. He drops his hand. And Seungmin wonders why he feels disappointed. 

“You’ve never done anything to hurt me,” Minho promises, “I don’t think you ever can.” 

There’s something about the way he’s looking at Seungmin—eyes shifty and more guarded than usual—that makes Seungmin think he’s lying. 

The realisation hits him on a Friday afternoon. When he’s studying with Jeongin in the library, or rather, getting uncharacteristically distracted from his work while Jeongin studies. He’s slumped over the table, head resting in the crook of his elbow while he scrolls through his Instagram feed. He pauses at a picture of Minho, it was posted three days ago but the algorithm always puts Minho’s posts at the top of his feed—he has no idea why, it’s not like he spends all his time scrolling through Minho’s Instagram or anything. 

Anyways. 

It’s a series of dance studio mirror selfies, with Jisung making goofy poses in the background. He swipes to the last picture and feels his breath catch. Minho is captured mid-laugh, eyes curling up and a brilliant, toothy grin on his face. He has such nice teeth, Seungmin thinks dreamily. He zooms in on the photo to get a better look of it, and then freezes when he realises what he’s doing. He jolts, dropping his phone like it burns him. It clatters when it hits the table. The image of laughing Minho stares up at him, mocking him. 

He straightens up. 

“Jeongin,” he says seriously, “Am I in love with Minho hyung?” 

Jeongin doesn’t look up from his laptop, “No shit.” 

“Oh.” 

He looks at the photo of Minho. And then back up at Jeongin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Jeongin sighs heavily, tearing his eyes away from his laptop screen. “I was hoping you would figure it out on your own. I guess that’s on me for expecting you to be emotionally intelligent.” 

He can’t even think of a good comeback, brain too occupied with over-analysing every interaction he’s ever had with Minho. Stupid Minho. It’s his fault that Jeongin gets the satisfaction of having the last word right now. 

“How long have I been in love with him?” 

Jeongin raises an eyebrow, “Why are you asking me ?” 

Seungmin shrugs. Who else would know? Certainly not himself. 

Jeongin indulges him, like the perfect, wonderful best friend he is. “Do you remember the night we first hooked up?” 

Seungmin blinks, confused about the sudden topic change, but nods. It was a little over a year ago, when Minho was still seeing his boyfriend at the time. He had asked Seungmin if they could have the apartment to celebrate their one month anniversary. He’d spend the evening cooking and even set up a candle-lit dinner on their shitty dining table. Seungmin had never seen Minho be that romantic with anyone before. He remembers making a comment about how celebrating monthly anniversaries were stupid and Minho shot back cooly with, “What would you know? You’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than a week.” 

Seungmin had stormed out of the apartment, not understanding why Minho’s comment cut so deeply. He marched all the way to Jeongin’s dorm and spent the night there. 

“You were so jittery that night,” Jeongin says, bringing him back to the present day, “It was like you had eight cups of coffee or something. You kept rambling about hyung’s ex, and how he was a walking red flag even though the rest of us thought Jungwoo was really nice.” 

Seungmin bristles. Jungwoo was the worst. Sure, he never said or did anything mean and he parted with Minho on really good terms, but he was still the worst. 

“Then after I calmed you down, you still seemed really upset over his date. You said he said something really mean to you. And I’ve never seen you get that way before, you were so torn up about it and you never get emotional over stupid fights like that. I kinda just…figured it out.” 

Seungmin blinks. He thinks about that night again, and sees it in a whole new colour. 

“Oh.” 

“I’m sure you were in love with him long before that, but that’s when I realised.” 

Jeongin’s always known Seungmin a little bit better than he knows himself. 

“Damn,” Seungmin says, “I can’t believe you still fucked me after that.” 

Jeongin glares at him, cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink. “I literally told you I loved Felix that same night. We’re both equally terrible people.” 

Seungmin laughs, “Yeah, checks out.”

He thinks about how jealous he got at the party, how that lead him to pulling Changbin into the bathroom (a stupid decision in hindsight, he internally cringes at himself). He thinks about how Hyunjin thought he was dating Minho and how abruptly Jisung called things off. He must’ve figured it out too. 

“Does everyone know?” 

Jeongin smiles guiltily, “Jisung and Felix started a betting pool. Chan told them off for being unethical and then bet 20,000 won against you.”

Seungmin really hates his friends sometimes. 

“Does Minho hyung know?” 

“I don’t think so,” Jeongin says softly, and Seungmin’s shoulders slump in relief. Thank god. “Are you going to tell him?” 

“Are you insane?” Seungmin says, “Of course not.” 

“What? Why not?” 

He thinks of the way Minho reacted when Seungmin asked if he was propositioning him. The disgust evident in his tone, the stiffness in his posture. 

“He clearly doesn’t feel the same way.” 

Jeongin gapes at him. A few minutes pass and he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Seungmin with those big, unnervingly dark eyes. 

“What?” Seungmin asks nervously. 

“You’re stupid,” Jeongin says, shutting his laptop and stuffing it into his bag. “I can’t be here anymore, you are so stupid.” 

“Hey!” Seungmin huffs, offended, “I’m literally having an emotional breakdown, can you hold off on the insults?” 

“No,” Jeongin opens his phone and furiously types something. “You wouldn’t be having this breakdown if you weren’t so stupid.”

His phone pings with a message. Jeongin reads it and then throws his backpack over his shoulder, standing from the table. “I’m going to go hang out with my boyfriend, who I got because I’m not stupid and know how to communicate with the people I love. Hope this helps. Bye.” 

He turns and walks away before Seungmin can get another word out. He sits there, gaping at Jeongin’s retreating figure. 

“What the fuck?” he says aloud. 

His confession comes on a Friday night. And it’s not exactly…planned. 

It’s a regular Friday night, which means Minho is getting ready for a night out with his dance friends and Seungmin is in his pyjamas, fiddling with his film camera. Seungmin sits on the bathroom counter, legs swinging back and forth while Minho does his makeup. The fluorescent bathroom bulb crackles and hisses, white noise accompanying the white light that fills the room. Makeup products are scattered across the counter, Seungmin is pretty sure he’s sitting on an eyeshadow brush. He’s not really adding anything by being here, but he likes keeping Minho company for mundane things like this. He only realised he was in L word with Minho this afternoon, but he’s already seeking out any extra time with him that he can. They live together and basically spend every waking moment together, but it still never feels like enough. 

Minho leans in closer to the mirror, pulling the skin under his eye downwards as he fills in his waterline with an eyeliner pencil. Seungmin lifts his camera and takes a picture of him. The flash of the camera startles Minho, making his hand slip and drag a line of black across his cheek. He blinks at his reflection, and then turns his scowl to Seungmin. He snaps another photo, giggling to himself. Minho’s scowl hardens. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

I’m in love with you. Seungmin thinks. It’s kind of terrifying how easily the words could slip from his tongue. 

“I got new film today, I’m excited.” 

“I hope that roll gets damaged,” Minho mutters, wiping the eyeliner off his cheek with a cotton pad. 

He watches as Minho finishes up the rest of his makeup, he adds little jewels to the inner corners of his eyes and Seungmin watches in amusement as he struggles to get them even. When he’s finished, he steps back and considers his outfit. He’s wearing a silky purple shirt tucked into tight jeans, a stark comparison to the grey sweats that Seungmin practically lives in. At least he switched up his wardrobe tonight with his bright yellow Simpsons hoodie.

Minho shrugs on the leather jacket hanging off the towel rack, and Seungmin’s brain momentarily short circuits.

“Hyung looks pretty,” he breathes out. 

He doesn’t mean to say it. The words escape with his exhale. 

Minho’s head snaps to him, surprise coating his entire face. 

“Did you hit your head?” he demands. 

Seungmin would laugh if he wasn’t so mortified. Heat rises to his cheeks. 

“Fucking probably.” 

Minho is still looking at him, Seungmin wishes he would stop. 

“You’re acting so weird today.” 

“Pfft, what? Me? Weird? You’re acting weird.”

Minho raises a slow eyebrow, gesturing to say you just proved my point. 

“Shut up,” Seungmin mutters, he ducks his head to busy himself with his camera again.

“Seungmo,” Minho draws his name out mockingly, voice overflowing with amusement, “What’s going on? Why do you seem so nervous?”

He huffs, “I’m not.” 

“Yes you are~” Minho sing-songs, stepping forward until he’s crowding Seungmin’s space. “This is fascinating, I’ve known you two years and never seen you nervous about anything.”

He lifts Seungmin’s chin up with his fingers, forcing eye contact. “What on earth is making you so nervous?” 

Fuck it, Seungmin decides. Minho is being insufferable right now, he deserves a taste of his own medicine. 

He meets Minho’s eyes and says, “You are, hyung.” 

Minho freezes. Hands dropping from Seungmin’s face. 

“What?” he asks, blinking rapidly. 

“You—” Seungmin’s licks his dry lips, choosing his words very carefully, “You told me to figure out what I want. I think I’ve figured it out.” 

Minho doesn’t say anything, staring at Seungmin like he’s terrified of asking what he means. The buzz of the bathroom light is getting unbearably loud, or maybe that’s just his heartbeat in his ears. 

When it’s clear that Minho won’t reply, Seungmin tugs at the sleeve of his jacket. 

“Hyung, ask me what I want.”

“I don’t want to.”

He tugs harder, his pinky finger grazes the back of Minho’s hand. It sends a spark of electricity up his arm. “Ask me.” 

“Kim Seungmin,” Minho says like it pains him, like his name is tearing its way out of Minho’s throat. “What do you want?”

“You. I want you, hyung.” 

Then, Minho does the last thing that Seungmin expects him to do. He curls his fists into the fabric of Seungmin’s hoodie, and pulls him into a bruising kiss. 

It’s electrifying. Minho’s lips feel like livewire, moving against his in a frantic haste. It’s impatient and messy, he kisses Seungmin like he’s running out of time. Like he’s taking what he can before Seungmin pushes him away. 

But Seungmin doesn’t push him away. He slots his hands against Minho’s waist and drags him in closer. Minho tries to deepen the kiss and Seungmin opens up eagerly, tilting his head and letting Minho take full control. His head is spinning, Minho is hot and handsy and kissing Seungmin like it’s his last breath. Seungmin aches, running his hands up Minho’s torso, trying to feel everything he can all at once. He’s overwhelmed by his own want, desperate for more. He needs more . 

Just when he’s about to ask for more, Minho pushes him away. 

Eyes wide, breathing laboured, he touches his swollen bottom lip like he can’t believe what he just did. 

Seungmin is slow to come back to himself. Through the hazy fog, he realises the panic in Minho’s face and straightens up. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. His hands are still on Minho’s waist, he squeezes reassuringly but it only makes Minho recoil out of his touch. 

“I won’t be one of your boytoys.” 

Seungmin’s blood runs cold, “Hyung–” 

“Let me speak,” Minho snaps. Seungmin shuts up. “I–I can’t do the casual sex thing. Not with you. I don’t want to be just a good fuck.”

“Hyung,” Seungmin says desperately, gripping Minho’s shirt like it’s a lifeline, “Hyung, you’re so stupid. You don’t get it. I want to be your boyfriend.” 

This visibly catches Minho off-guard. Voice impossibly small when he asks, “What?” 

“I want to be your stupid, jealous boyfriend. I want to dance with you at parties and hold your hand and pay for your coffee.” 

Minho blinks, expression melting into something softer. 

“Ugh,” he says, ducking his head. His ears are firetruck red. He buries his head into Seungmin’s shoulder and lets out a muffled, “Shut up.” 

Seungmin laughs, bright and giddy, “Are you shy? Did I make hyungie shy?” 

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.” 

“Aw, promise?” 

Minho digs his fingers into Seungmin’s waist and pinches. It only makes Seungmin laugh louder. He runs his hands through Minho’s silky hair while he just stays there, face pressed to Seungmin’s shirt, showing no signs of moving anytime soon. 

Seungmin clears his throat, feeling impossibly awkward, “So…do you want the same thing?” 

Minho lifts his head and, oh, his entire face is bright red, right down to his neck. It makes Seungmin feel giddy, it makes him smile. 

“You’ve never paid for coffee in your damn life.” 

“I’ll pay for yours, that’s how much I like you.” 

Minho glowers, face flushing darker, “You’re pathetic.” 

Seungmin figures that’s the best he’s going to get out of Minho. He tilts his chin up and says, “Kiss me again.” 

This time, Minho is slower. He traces the line of Seungmin’s jaw with his index finger, before gripping his chin tightly and pulling him in for a kiss. It’s slow and searing, building up like a reawakened firepit. It builds and builds until Seungmin’s entire body feels like a forest fire. From how he’s sitting, he has to lean up to meet Minho’s lips. He wraps his legs around Minho’s waist, the heels of his feet digging into his back to bring Minho even closer. He feels like even this isn’t enough. Minho backs him into the bathroom mirror, hands on either of his thighs, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. He makes a low, drawn out noise that makes heat pool in Seungmin’s gut. 

“Bed,” Seungmin gasps out. Minho breaks their kiss and latches his lips to Seungmin’s neck, sucking harshly on the skin there. It pulls a broken whine from Seungmin. “Take me to bed, please, hyung.” 

Minho meets his eyes, blown wide and lips swollen. He’s so fucking pretty. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

He steps back and holds his hand out for Seungmin to take. Seungmin stumbles to his feet, letting Minho pull him into another kiss. He has to lean down this time, smiling into the kiss as Minho impatiently nips at his bottom lip. They barely make it out of the bathroom, stumbling and giggling like a pair of idiots. Seungmin backs Minho into the door and kisses him again, trying to shove his jacket off his shoulders. 

Then he pulls away, remembering why Minho’s so dressed up. “Wait, weren’t you supposed to go out?” 

Minho makes a frustrated noise, fingers curling into the back of Seungmin’s hair to pull him closer. “Kim Seungmin, I literally don’t give a fuck about that right now.”

Seungmin can’t stop his grin, he really can’t. “Okay.” 

Minho slaps his hand over Seungmin’s mouth, “Stop smiling like that.” 

Seungmin smiles wider, “Like what?” 

“Like an idiot.” 

Seungmin opens his mouth and runs his tongue over one of Minho’s fingers, taking it into his mouth. He holds Minho’s gaze as he sucks on his index finger, pulling away with a wet pop. Minho’s eyes go wide, ears burning beautifully. 

“Your insults are getting lame, hyung,” Seungmin says when Minho moves his hand away. He tilts his head and blinks innocently, “Is something distracting you?” 

“I’m starting to regret this boyfriend thing,” Minho mutters, wiping his fingers on Seungmin’s sleeve.

“Oh? So you admit it? You want to be my boyfriend?” 

Minho blinks slowly, a shy little smile crawling up his face. It’s so cute it makes Seungmin feel all bubbly. 

“I never said that,” Minho says, dragging Seungmin in again. 

So, yeah, the confession isn’t planned. But Minho is always bugging Seungmin to be more impulsive, anyway. 

And later, much later, when they’re naked and tangled together in Minho’s bed, blankets kicked to the floor and Seungmin catching his breath with his face pressed to Minho’s chest, he gets a text. 

Minho makes an irritated noise, eyes heavy and cheeks flushed. He’s softer in the afterglow, hand carding through Seungmin’s hair and legs slotted between his. 

“Put your phone on silent,” he says. 

Seungmin giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to the space under Minho’s collarbone before pulling away. He finds his phone lodged under the pillows and checks it. 

jinnie:

we still on for tmrw?

dance is killing me lol

need to destress<3<3<3

“Ah, shit,” Seungmin says. 

Minho cracks his eyes open, “What is it?”

“Just realised that I have to cancel on all my hookups,” Seungmin mutters, typing out an apology text, “This is gonna be so awkward.” 

Minho snatches the phone from Seungmin’s grasp. “Let me do it.” 

Seungmin widens his eyes, looking from his now empty hands to his phone in Minho’s hands. 

“Hey—stop!” he makes a grab for the phone but Minho is quicker, dodging his attacks and already typing out a reply to Hyunjin. “You’re going to embarrass me!” 

Minho gives a pleased smile as he hits send, “I’m just doing my job as your jealous boyfriend.”