Chapter Text
I just need someone in my life to give it structure
To handle all the selfish ways I’d spend my time without him
˚₊·-͟͟͞➳❥
When Lee Minho and Kim Seungmin got married, the pair described it to be a quiet affair.
It had to be quiet, because no one else attended their wedding; or, at least, they hadn’t bothered inviting anyone to come. Hyunjin still remembers the day he received the letter from his brother-in-law, stuffed between bills on his kitchen counter, and he remembers the chaos that soon followed once Jisung snatched it from his hands with wide eyes. His husband is rarely that rude, but Hyunjin knows he’s haunted by the brother he thought he lost forever.
Jisung’d quickly locked himself into his office later to call Seungmin and have a long discussion about not inviting his own brother to his wedding — “I was supposed to be there with you, Minnie! Who else was supposed to be your Best Man? What do you mean, you didn’t have a Best Man?” — but he’d missed the photograph still tucked inside the envelope. However, Hyunjin didn’t miss it, and he delicately traces the edges where they stick out of the envelope.
When Hyunjin finally pulls it out, he’s greeted with the sight of a stiff, unsmiling couple. They stand in the middle of a chapel Hyunjin doesn’t recognise, white button-downs tucked into plain dress pants, while their arms lock in a way that seems staged rather than natural. If Hyunjin didn’t know any better, he’d think that they looked straight out of a drama about an arranged marriage. Dramas he pretends not to watch. He frowns and focuses on their faces.
He recognises Kim Seungmin, so the man next to him must be…
“Lee Minho,” he mutters, humming. “Interesting.”
The man is attractive, Hyunjin muses, but his furrowed brows and tense jaw distract most from the fact. He’s not glaring at the camera but there’s still a heavy, challenging look in his eyes that sends a chill down Hyunjin’s spine. It’s like Minho is daring the camera, is daring him. Daring him to do what, Hyunjin doesn’t know. He doesn’t know enough to interpret what it means, but he decides that he doesn’t like it. It feels weird, somehow. It feels… dangerous.
He sighs. “Well, let’s just hope you’re cheerier in real life. Welcome to the family, Minho.”
The man in the picture stares back, blank-faced, and Hyunjin slips him back into the envelope. Seungmin didn’t mention a date for the family to meet his new husband, but Hyunjin doesn’t think Jisung would let that go after missing his wedding. He snorts at the thought. Seungmin, who insisted that his life was only long work days and longer sleep nights, who used that as an excuse not to visit the family for years, suddenly shows up with a husband in tow. No way.
Jisung doesn’t come out of his office until night falls, and only because Chan starts knocking on his door for dinner time. He looks sheepish when he opens the door, bending down to scoop his five-year-old son in his arms, and he grows even more sheepish when he glances out the windows. Past the glass, only a few streaks of orange and pink paint the otherwise darkening sky. Hyunjin tries to ignore how the pasta he’d made for them already turned cold.
“Sorry for taking so long,” Jisung says, approaching the dinner table. “Things were really… hectic.”
Despite everything, Hyunjin shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was a shock to all of us, especially you, and I bet you had a lot of questions.”
“I did,” Jisung replies, before he sighs. He sits Chan down but his eyes look distant and far-away. “I still do.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Jisung doesn’t reply at first, but Hyunjin knows he’s just mulling over his thoughts. It’s one of the things he loved about his husband, how quick-witted and eloquent he is, how he had such a way with words. It admittedly resulted in a few awkward silences, because Jisung’s mind is always running a mile a minute while Hyunjin’s stayed stagnant and waiting for instructions, but Hyunjin thinks it’s worth seeing the genius that lied within the confines of Jisung’s head.
Hyunjin scoops spoonfuls of rice and dried vegetables onto everyone’s plate while he waits. Beside him, Chan plays with his food while Changbin ignores the vegetables entirely, reaching for the plate of meat at the centre of the table. Dinner is silent, but Hyunjin’s fine with that. Silence is familiar. Silence is comfortable. Silence reminds him of days tucked into Jisung’s bedroom, when Jisung kept replaying the same movie and Hyunjin realised that he loved him.
Later, when their plates are half-finished and Chan starts smacking his spoon against his brother, Jisung finally sighs. “I think… I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Did he say anything when you asked?”
“Didn’t ask,” Jisung muttered. “Didn’t know if I was… allowed.”
He falls silent again, and Hyunjin hates how he can’t do anything to help him. A part of him wants to reach out and comfort him like how husbands should, like how best friends should, but it’s been years since their marriage and even longer since they’d called each other friends and the line between them blurs so much that it’s almost smeared completely. If Hyunjin is honest with himself, he’d admit that it was easier to help Jisung when they were just friends.
But Hyunjin’s not honest with himself, so he pushes the thought away and covers Jisung’s hand with his own. It doesn’t work as well as he’d hoped, because Jisung looks up in confusion and trepidation and something that looks distinctly like discomfort, and Hyunjin’s too much of a coward to follow through. He shouldn’t have touched him. He doesn’t know why, but the feeling like he’d done something wrong washes over him like a cold and icy wave of dread.
“We’ll talk later,” he mouths, before pulling away. Jisung can only nod.
They’re both relieved when the contact breaks.
Later comes in the dead of night, when Changbin’s locked in his room and Chan’s tucked in his bed. Hyunjin’s already in his own bed, lying on the side near the window that he knows Jisung hates, but Jisung takes his time. He takes off his glasses and unbuttons his shirt and slips into his pyjamas with the pace of a snail, if said snail was lost in thought and steadfastly refusing to look at his husband. That thought comes again, like he’d done something wrong.
Jisung can’t avoid him forever, however, and they find themselves facing each other in their shared bed, warmed only by their tattered blankets and night-lamp. It’s a nice home that they’ve built for themselves. The combined salary of a well-known producer and an interior designer led them to live comfortable lives for themselves and their adopted children. Chan and Changbin have known nothing but love since they arrived. Hyunjin wants to say the same.
If you asked him that question now, while Jisung looks impossibly soft with tousled hair and an oversized shirt as he lies across from him, Hyunjin would say the same. Hyunjin would say that he was happy. The thought gives him hope. Against his better judgement, he reaches out to touch Jisung again. Jisung doesn’t flinch this time, and Hyunjin smiles like it is a personal victory. Perhaps, at the time, it was. “Hey, baby. Are you… Are you ready to talk about it?”
“I don’t know what to talk about,” Jisung confesses. He shifts under the blankets. “Seungmin— I admit we’ve been distant for a while, for the better part of the past few years, but I didn’t…”
He swallows. “I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”
“He didn’t invite anyone, though, right? Maybe this is just something Seungmin has to deal with alone.”
“He shouldn’t.” Jisung sighs. “I haven’t been a good brother, have I?”
Hyunjin doesn’t reply, because he doesn't know the truth. He thinks he knows the answer Jisung wants to hear, but a part of him doesn’t think that’s right either. Hyunjin pats Jisung’s shoulder and watches him fall asleep and wonders when Jisung is going to ask if he’d been a good husband. Now, that, Hyunjin could answer. Hyunjin would hold him close and tell him that he’d been nothing short of perfect. Kind, supportive, funny. Beautiful inside and out. His.
˚₊·-͟͟͞➳❥
Jisung’s still busy setting the table when Seungmin and Minho arrive, so Hyunjin goes to greet them at the door.
They come overdressed, donning traditional hanboks that Hyunjin definitely didn’t see them wear for their own wedding. Up close, Minho is more handsome than he remembered, with his signature glare from the photo replaced with a sheepish grin. Maybe the danger was all in his head. Maybe pictures reflect little of reality than the thousand words that everyone else claimed that they do. Maybe Minho will be nice. Hyunjin smiles back and ushers them inside.
“Everyone’s in the living room,” he says, guiding them down the hallway. “Help yourself to some refreshments on the table.”
Seungmin nods absentmindedly. “Is Jisung here?”
“He’s not the one who’s been skipping family gatherings, is he?” Hyunjin jests, laughing. When he doesn’t get a reply from Seungmin, however, he suddenly wonders if he’d been too harsh. “Hey, I didn’t mean that. We’re glad you’re here.”
Hope tinges the doubt clouding Seungmin’s eyes. “Really?”
“Everyone’s missed you. Why don’t you go talk to them?”
Seungmin swallows, and Hyunjin’s suddenly reminded of the little boy that he grew up with. They were only two years apart, but that age gap seemed massive in the eyes of kids who didn’t know any better. He seemed so small at the time, even when the years grew by and their height difference gradually evened out, and Hyunjin thinks Seungmin will always look small to him. He looks small right now, all scared and nervous and insecure like he was before.
Hyunjin pats his shoulder. “Go talk to your family, Minnie. They’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
Sighing, Seungmin nods, before he grabs Minho’s hand and drags them both into the living room.
The rest of the afternoon is a blur of introductions and swapped stories between the family. Jisung pops his head in every now and then, bringing in the groceries from where he’d left them on the coffee table, and he only brushes down the front of his button-down when Jeongin suddenly yells at him to introduce himself. As much as Seungmin tried to hide from his brother, Hyunjin knows Jisung well enough to understand that he’d been doing the same.
“Alright, alright,” Jisung laughs, adjusting his glasses. “I’m here! Where’s my new brother-in-law?”
Minho suddenly peeks out from where he was hiding behind Seungmin’s back, and both of them freeze.
If they weren’t his husband and his brother-in-law, if they were viewed from unbiased eyes rather than Hyunjin’s clouded gaze, Hyunjin would’ve called it love at first sight. A spark of something they’d both been looking for. Their eyes rake over each other until Hyunjin can see the way Minho’s gaze travels down Jisung’s wine-red button-down tucked into his belted dress jeans. By the way Minho nervously adjusts his own hanbok, Jisung is studying him too.
He looks back up again and clears his throat, flushing. “Hi. I’m Minho.”
“I figured,” Jisung says, and he holds out his hand. “I’m Jisung.”
Minho takes his hand and shakes it. Looking back, Hyunjin thinks it started even then.
They stay like that for a while, quietly conversing at the back of the living room. Jisung slumps against the couch at some point but Minho stays standing, leaning against the window behind him. They’re not even touching, but there’s something intimate about them. Seungmin stands beside them, but it’s like they don’t even notice he’s there, like they’re in their own world.
“How old are you?” Jisung asks. He licks his lips. “How old?”
Minho pauses, surprised, but the semi-permanent blush on his cheeks suddenly makes way for a smirk. “Even if you’re the older brother, I bet that I’m still older than you.”
He leans against the back of the couch until his face is levelled slightly above Jisung’s, far enough to be respectful but still close enough to make Hyunjin’s toes curl. The danger that he’d so easily dismissed is suddenly back. Abruptly, a picture does speak a thousand words. He thinks of Minho now and his daring gaze and the danger, danger, danger. There’s a teasing glint in both of their eyes that Hyunjin recognises but can’t seem to identify, and he hates it.
But Jisung straightens. “Are you sure? I’m fifty-one years old.”
It’s a blatant lie, because Seungmin’s barely in his late 20s and Jisung can’t be far off, but Minho still acts surprised like he’s playing along. Jisung raises his stare challengingly at Minho, as if daring him to add on to the joke, but there’s nothing funny in Minho’s gaze. His hand dances along Jisung’s arm on the back of the couch, tracing a pattern against the thin sleeve. If he didn’t know any better, Hyunjin’d think they were flirting. (He doesn’t know any better.)
“Oh?” Minho’s saying, leaning in even further until his voice finally drops to a whisper. “You’re fifty-one?”
Jisung doesn’t get to reply before Seungmin suddenly shoves his shoulder, breaking everyone from their stupor. Everyone, from Jisung and Minho in their bubble to a frozen Hyunjin to the confused children to the parents with unreadable looks on their faces. Jisung and Minho jump back, blinking, and Minho leans back until his body hits the curtain behind him. He looks away from the others and crosses his arms, even when his own cheeks redden harder than before.
Beside him, Seungmin awkwardly laughs. “Stop it, hyung.”
“Yeah, Dad!” Changbin pipes up, accusing. “Why are you so interested in Uncle?”
Jisung splutters, turning to where his son sat beside him, and the room only gets louder from there. There’s shouts and jeers from everyone alike, from Hyunjin’s fathers-in-law making snarky remarks on the side to his own sons gripping Jisung’s shirt in confusion. Jisung makes a joke out of it, like he always does, and the mood remains light like it’d always intended to be that way, like the air didn’t weigh over all of their shoulders with the thickness of dread.
Seungmin stays suspiciously quiet, but Hyunjin wouldn’t know what to say either.
Chan suddenly shoves Changbin to the side, climbing into Jisung’s lap and pointing at Hyunjin. “Dad is right here! You can’t flirt with other people in front of him!”
Everyone turns to face him, and Hyunjin quickly wishes he could disappear.
Jisung looks sheepish, surrounded by their sons who were still grabbing at his shirt in protest, but Hyunjin couldn’t bear to look at them right then. Behind them, Felix only sighs while Jeongin studies them with disapproval, like they’d both noticed something that Hyunjin doesn’t want to acknowledge. Minho refuses to spare him more than a glance, and Seungmin… Seungmin nods at him, like he’s saying “I know.” and “I’m sorry.” and “Play along.”
Swallowing, Hyunjin takes the last part to heart, before he digs into the forgotten grocery bag for several stalks of celery.
It becomes a joke, afterwards. It becomes a joke because Hyunjin makes it so, playfully smacking his husband with the celery while Jisung hugs his middle and shouts his own mock-apologies. It becomes a joke, even when Jisung twists them until his back faces Minho, even when he feels the way Jisung shoots Minho a heart and he knows Minho shoots him one back. Their soft giggles are all he needs. Somehow, they’re the only genuine thing that Jisung says.
“Be good,” Hyunjin says, jokingly yet not at all, and Jisung obediently sits on the couch beside him as he nods. Hyunjin doesn’t know if this part is still a joke.
˚₊·-͟͟͞➳❥
Hyunjin doesn’t see much of Minho after that day, other than sparse conversations in the family’s group chat and his cat videos all over Hyunjin’s social media feed. Somehow, pictures of Seungmin don’t show up at all. But pictures of Jisung do. It’s how Hyunjin finds out that the same of him can’t be said for Jisung, because he seems to see Minho all the time. Pictures of them eating or petting alley cats or standing in front of the mirror in the company bathroom.
It starts when Jisung comes home rambling about how he’d met Minho at his workplace.
“He never told me he was the new choreographer!” Jisung says, ecstatic. “I bumped into him in the cafeteria and we started talking all about it. Guess I’ll be seeing him a lot more now, huh?”
He smiles as he says it, and the dread comes back. At the time, Hyunjin couldn’t place it, because he’d known insecurity and mild jealousy while dating Jisung but never all at once and never to this degree. It’s ironic, because Minho is polite and respectful and so much more likable than most people Hyunjin had been wary of; but, perhaps, that was what scared him the most. He can’t hate Minho. He can’t hate Minho when he hasn’t done anything wrong.
In the following months, Hyunjin learns more about Minho from Jisung than from Minho himself. Jisung doesn’t tell him much outright, but Hyunjin feels it in the way Minho’s name drops and soaks into their conversations, the way the nights only grow darker when Jisung comes home with an apology on his lips and cat hair on his legs, the way Minho’s voice crackles through Jisung’s phone every night when seeing him during the day wasn’t enough.
Hyunjin doesn’t bring it up, but only because he doesn’t know how to bring it up. It’s not like Jisung and Minho were trying to hide their new friendship — the opposite, actually, because Jisung thrusts this new bond in Hyunjin’s face like a little boy waving his new toy around — but it still makes him, for lack of a better term… nervous. He has nothing to be worried about. He has nothing to be scared about but the fear digs a home for itself under his skin anyway.
One day, when the moon hangs heavy in the sky and Jisung is still not home, Hyunjin gives in and calls his brother-in-law.
“Hey, Seungmin,” Hyunjin says. He doesn’t know why he’s sweating. “Is… Jisung with you?”
A distant laugh sounds from Seungmin’s end, and Seungmin lets out a tired exhale. “When is he not with me?”
“You too, huh? It’s like they’re inseparable or something.”
Seungmin snorts, but it’s almost drowned out by the background chatter behind him. Instinctively, Hyunjin knows it’s them, and he tries to calm his own rapidly-beating heart. They’re with Seungmin — Seungmin, the boy Jisung grew up with and the man Minho chose to marry — and they’d never do anything with him there, right? They were just hanging out and conversing and having strictly platonic and familial fun in Seungmin’s own home… right?
He must have been too quiet, because Seungmin makes a noise through the phone. “Hyunjin? Are you there?”
“Yeah, sorry. I was just… I got distracted by, uh, something.”
“Hmm. Do you want Jisung on the phone?”
“No, it’s okay,” Hyunjin breathes. “I just wanted to make sure that he was okay.”
“Okay… is that all you wanted to talk about?”
It’s gentle, prodding, like Hyunjin was a scared kitten sniffing around someone else’s alleyway and Seungmin was a kind hand outstretched with food in its palm. And, over the years, Seungmin has been that person for him. Seungmin has been that person for him since they were kids and Hyunjin knew it. He has no reason to fear him, because he’d known Seungmin for years despite it all and, if anything, they were both suddenly shoved into the same boat.
But it’s Seungmin’s reaction that he was scared of the most, and Hyunjin can’t decide what’s worse: if he’ll dismiss his concerns, or if he’ll sigh in understanding like he related too, like Seungmin also sensed something neither of them wanted to bring up first. Hyunjin thinks either option would absolutely devastate him. So, maybe it wasn’t the best option, but he’d like to live in blissful ignorance for a little while longer. He’d like to pretend they were fine.
For now, Hyunjin swallows. “It’s really okay. I was just worried that something happened to him.”
“…alright, then. We’re still coming over for dinner next week, right?”
“Yeah, of course. Are you…?”
“I’m coming,” Seungmin affirms. “We’ll see you there.”
We, Seungmin says, like Hyunjin could forget that Minho was coming too. Hyunjin doesn’t, could never. It’s hard to forget him. It’s hard to forget that he’s there when he steals his husband’s attention and time and laughs that Hyunjin’d previously thought were only saved for him. When he tucks himself into bed, alone for the seventh time that week, it’s all he can think about. When he wakes up and Jisung’s side is slept in but empty, Hyunjin stops thinking.
Dinner comes along, and it goes better than Hyunjin expected it to. Jisung and Minho still float towards each other like two moths drawn to a flame, but Seungmin seemed determined to keep Minho by his side; for his sake or for Hyunjin’s, he didn’t know. That didn’t deter them from talking, but it did keep them a respectful distance apart by the couches. Right now, it’s all that Hyunjin could ask for, could be thankful for, and the messy situation frustrates him.
Hyunjin almost huffs at the immaturity of it all, slumping into the sofa where he sat. Why the hell is he so fucking scared? Minho hasn’t done shit to him, and Jisung is just busier than normal. They’d both made new friends and it’s completely normal to talk to your friends. Keeping tabs on them had left him exhausted, and the kids bickering by his feet didn’t help the oncoming headache at the back of his skull. He absentmindedly rubs it and closes his eyes.
Beside him, Jisung suddenly slaps his hands against his thighs. “Aren’t we eating anything? It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Go cook something, then,” Hyunjin groans, turning away.
Jisung looks him over in concern, but Hyunjin bats him away. His poor, caring husband who didn’t deserve his suspicions at all. Hyunjin only shakes his head when Jisung opens his mouth again, something akin to shame tinting his reassuring smile. I’m just tired, he tries to say, and Jisung seems to understand. He’s thankful when Jisung quietly nods and doesn’t prod him. He’s not so thankful when Jisung stands and turns to Minho instead, holding out his hand.
“Come here, brother-in-law.”
Minho laughs and reaches out to take his hand, while Seungmin glances between them. “Hey, don’t make a move on my husband.”
“No promises,” Jisung teases, before grabbing Minho’s hand and tugging him towards the kitchen. Minho rolls his eyes as he lets himself be dragged away, but Hyunjin swears his cheeks redden at the implications. It’s a joke, Hyunjin knows, except it doesn’t feel like one, except it’s not a joke at all. He glances at Seungmin, watching the way Seungmin’s jaw tenses under his gritted teeth, and moves over until their shoulders are tightly pressed together.
Seungmin looks up questioningly, and Hyunjin jerks his chin towards the kitchen. “What do you think’s going on between them?”
“Nothing, hopefully,” Seungmin mutters. “I know Jisung and I aren’t close, but he’d never… he’d never cheat on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Hyunjin scoffs, even when his heart hammers. “What about Minho?”
He hesitates, before he sighs. “We never really married for love.”
Inside the kitchen, shouts and giggles and a soft “Jisungie!” leak into the living room.
˚₊·-͟͟͞➳❥
When his in-laws are tucking the kids into bed and Jisung had insisted on showing Minho around their newly-furnished backyard, Hyunjin pulls Seungmin to the kitchen under pretence of doing the dishes. For a moment, it's silent, and Seungmin breaks it first. “Listen, I’m sorry for lying to you, but I didn’t know how to bring up the subject without… without, uhm…”
“…embarrassing yourself?” Hyunjin asks, and the reluctant nod he gets in return makes him scoff. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it before you get it through your thick skull, Seungminnie, but we’re your family. What’s it gonna take for you to trust us?”
“I know, and I do, but—”
“Do you? Because, from where I’m standing, you’ve disappeared for two years only to come back with a fake husband you don’t even love, apparently. Two years, and you couldn’t send a text or a letter or a phone call. It’s like, it’s like I didn’t even know you anymore.”
Hyunjin reaches out, then, and Seungmin lets him caress his cheek while he searches his eyes for something he can’t find. “What happened to the little boy I grew up with, hmm?”
“I don’t know,” Seungmin whispers, whimpers. Hyunjin idly wonders if this is the first time he’s finally telling him the truth.
He swallows. “Talk to me about it, Minnie. Please. I know we’re not biologically related, but I’ve known you since we were kids, and I would’ve known you longer if you didn’t… push me away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want an apology. I want to know if you’re okay.”
Hyunjin doesn’t know if it’s his words, or his gentle hands, or Seungmin’s own stress that’s already started to spill over, but he crumbles under Hyunjin’s touch and sobs into his chest. And Hyunjin hugs him close, half-carries him to the dining room chairs when their legs start shaking from the weight, because the years have aged them well but Seungmin keeps forgetting how young he truly is.
They sit there, in the dead of night with nothing but the hallway light and dirty dishes in the sink beside them, and Seungmin tells him everything. Seungmin tells him about his lonely apartment and his lonely job and the lonely life he leads when he isn’t visiting family. Seungmin tells him about Minho, a hook-up turned confidant who had his own financial problems with his failing dance studio.
And Seungmin tells him about their deal — that they’d get married, that Seungmin would get to parade Minho around and pretend he wasn’t sleeping alone, that Minho would get his money and his name to tide him over until he finds a better job.
(And he does, later, when Seungmin confesses that Minho only got recommended at Jisung’s agency for his connections. Hyunjin actually gets angry until Seungmin calms him down and insists that Minho deserves it, that they’re both just a pair of stupid kids trying to make the most of their situation. Hyunjin presses his lips together but doesn’t bring it up again.)
Seungmin talks and talks and talks, and Hyunjin lets him because he doesn’t know when was the last time Seungmin could confide in someone who wasn’t his partner in crime. He talks until the clock starts to approach midnight, until his words start slurring from exhaustion or stopping altogether, until his head leans forward and knocks against Hyunjin’s shoulder, and he keeps going.
“…and I don’t really mind, you know, that he doesn’t love me,” Seungmin murmurs now. “It just hurts that he wouldn’t tell me when he’s fallen in love with someone else. He’s allowed to, obviously, since we agreed we wouldn’t be exclusive, but still…”
Hyunjin frowns. “He’s in love with someone else?”
Seungmin blinks and yawns, his eyes already drooping. “You… haven’t noticed?”
“No,” Hyunjin says, suddenly sitting up. “Who’s he in love with?”
But Seungmin doesn’t reply. When Hyunjin looks down, he realises the man is finally asleep. He sighs, exasperated, but Seungmin sniffles when he strokes his hair and Hyunjin thinks he can’t stay mad at him for long. Struggling to his feet, he drags Seungmin to the couch in the living room, before grabbing a blanket and tucking it around his form.
Distant laughter sounds from the backyard, and he suddenly remembers where he is. Something ugly rolls in his stomach at the thought of them still moving amidst his flowers and his patio and his fish pond that he’d just asked to be built in. He stands there, hesitant, because he’s technically the man of the house but Minho sometimes makes him feel like he doesn’t know his own home anymore.
Swallowing, he decides there’s nothing stopping him from interrupting them except his own nerves, so he shoves them down and makes his way to the back of the house.
Looking back, it wasn’t as bad as Hyunjin later makes it out to be. Jisung and Minho stand with their backs facing him, faces tilted up to the sky and sometimes each other. The moon hangs above them like a spotlight to their sins, except the light is gentle where it should be harsh, illuminating where it should expose. Jisung seems to think this, because he suddenly reaches out to trace a hand past Minho’s shoulders.
“You look really pretty today,” he says, grinning. “So pretty, my brother-in-law.”
Minho playfully shoves him, and he has a matching grin on his face. “Stop it, you’re being ridiculous.”
“What, I can’t compliment you?”
“I’m just worried you have ulterior motives.”
“My only motive is making you smile.” Another shove, another giggle. “Did it work?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Minho repeats, but the moonlight reflects a sparkle in his eyes that Hyunjin never noticed before.
When he turns to look at Jisung, he realises that he’s gazing at Minho with the same look on his face.
˚₊·-͟͟͞➳❥
You're everything I want but I can't deal with all your lovers
You're saying I'm the one but it's your actions that speak louder