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they will hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if i love you and i will say no but the needle will jump and sputter exactly how you laugh.
— arealliveghost on twitter
“And are any of you in love?” The interviewer laughs, knowing that the question toes a little close to the line.
In front of Mingyu, Seokmin’s back straightens, almost imperceptibly. If Mingyu weren’t so good at reading his member — at reading Seokmin — he’d never have noticed. He knows by the way the interview waves for them to answer that he definitely hasn’t, hasn’t picked on the suddenly faintly tension flooding the room.
Seungcheol starts an unenthusiastic countdown for them all to pick a side, to commit to a true or false in less than three seconds of something that poets and artists have spent millennia to try and identify. His voice holds a warning that, again, Mingyu only hears because of the longevity between them.
Mingyu realises, in a panic, that the others are flipping their boards, picks a side without really thinking.
It’s only when those in the front row spin — fixed smiles on their faces, eyes blinking heavily when they spot Mingyu’s single green truth in a sea of reds — that Mingyu feels the ice in his stomach shatter.
Seokmin’s neck is cranked to see behind him, lips parting to deliver what Mingyu knows will be an admonishment, and Mingyu flips the board in one fluid motion. He laughs, even as he feels the blush creeping up to his neck to reach his ears.
But the interviewer isn’t so kind as to pretend he hasn’t seen, focuses in on Mingyu with singleminded intent. “Mingyu, you said true for a second there. Why have you changed your answer?”
Mingyu schools his expression into what he knows is a winning smile, settles into a slouch which he hopes makes him easy to dismiss. “I didn’t understand the question,” he laughs, and Soonyoung chimes in, making some gently derogatory comment about Mingyu not listening or not understanding or whatever.
Still hellbent on cruelty, the interviewer raises an eyebrow, cocking his head like he’s thinking. And Mingyu can almost hear the cogs turning, honing in on how to make this apparent mistake into a scoop. “You’re sure you’re not hiding anything?” He says it jovially, pretending at being friendly, but they can all hear the undercurrent of excitement in his voice.
Mingyu tries to laugh it off, holding up his hands, eyes wide. “Ah, no. I got confused.” He giggles, relieved when Seungkwan and Soonyoung join in. “And, I mean, I am in love.” A breath. Until he slaps his hand on Minghao’s thigh beside him, making him jump. “I love my members a lot. And, of course, the fans.” He directs a heart to the cameras, hamming it up enough that the other members begin to rib him for it, sending their own, gently ironic, hearts in the cameras’ direction.
The interviewer is, at least, smart enough to know a dead end when he senses one, veering off to check his cue cards and line up the next question to hurl at them.
Mingyu’s hand stays on Minghao’s thigh, still enough not to draw attention, but drawing enough of Minghao’s quiet reassurance to keep Mingyu from fidgeting throughout the rest of the interview.
Seokmin doesn’t talk to him again until afterwards.
Mingyu is washing his hands in the small bathroom, hunched over the sink with his mind still spinning. He hears the door open behind him, doesn’t even need to check the mirror to confirm that it’s Seokmin.
The hands are on his back before he can spin around to say anything, to apologise perhaps. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” Seokmin’s voice is low, less urgent than the way his fingers claw into Mingyu’s thin shirt. “Is there something wrong with you?”
Mingyu holds up his hands for the second time that, calling for a peace he knows shan’t be granted to him. “Hey, I played it off. It’s fine.”
Seokmin spins him, and his eyes are just as fiery as his touch, his eyebrows flat over his eyes. “It’s not fucking fine,” he hisses. “You’re not in love with me. We hooked up a few times, that’s it. Get it?” His spittle lands on Mingyu’s cheek, but Mingyu knows better than to wipe it away.
“Seokmin, it was just a mistake.” He tries to keep his voice soft, level. “It was a moment of madness. It won’t happen again.”
Finally, Seokmin steps away, face still stormy. “Fucking right it was a mistake,” he spits. “And, don’t worry, it definitely won’t happen again.” He marches from the bathroom and Mingyu catches a flash of Jeonghan’s face, mouth flat and thin, before the door swings shut again.
He leans back against the sink and lets out an unsteady sigh, feels the air around him swallow it up.