Chapter Text
Present Day
Seungmin
It had been a while since Seungmin had seen Minho.
Well, technically, they’d seen each other a few weeks ago. Not that he had been counting.
It was at Jeongin’s grandmother’s house, to be exact.
Seungmin had become a sort of regular at Jeongin's weekly family dinners. It was to the point now that he was no longer considered a guest.
Though his grandmother never let him near the stove, she was happy to let him crack the occasional egg, cut a vegetable here and there, clean the counters — pretty much anything that made him useful and not, well, burn the place down.
It was a fine gig. He liked having something to do with his hands. It gave him a sense of purpose; it made it easier not to wonder whether he was just taking up space.
Mostly, though, he stuck around to listen to her stories.
He had heard the same ones over and over since he was sixteen, a shy new student who’d partnered with Jeongin on a group project and somehow never stopped showing up for dinner. But that never made them any less interesting. Each time, she’d craft a new detail, a gesture, an inflection, to make the retelling even juicier than the last.
All in all, he liked Jeongin’s grandmother. A lot. More than most people.
She was the only one who had ever called him strong.
“In the ways that matter,” she'd say whenever Seungmin would look dejectedly at his scrawny teenage arms. “You’re going to change one day. Just don’t change too much.”
And then she would laugh and give him a few hard pats. Seungmin would rub his arm, and Jeongin would snicker to himself.
Nowadays, she hugged him at the door, looked into his eyes as though searching for something, then squeezed his arms for good measure. Lately, she'd been holding onto him a little longer before letting go.
“Good, not too much change,” she’d say.
And he’d blush every time.
Currently, he could hear the ramblings of a story she was retelling as she worked the stove, the steam hissing from the pan and the aroma of spices in the air. This one was about the time she met Jeongin’s grandfather secretly, and the first night she’d ever caught a firefly. His ears perked up, remembering the story with fondness. He could almost picture the tiny light caught between her cupped hands and the smiles on her and her late husband’s faces, brighter every time she told the story.
"And then he looks at me and he tells me-" She paused for dramatic effect, changing her expression and lowering her voice. "Mi-sook-ah, you need to stay very, very still."
She lifted a hand to her chest, insisting on her innocence. "And I tell him I am still. And he tells me I have never stood still in my life and that I keep scaring them away! So, I say to him -"
"That he can stop blaming me since he's the one making me laugh," Seungmin muttered to himself at the same time as she finished.
“Is that around the time you were two-timing your fiancé?” Jeongin cut in with a cheeky grin.
Halmeoni’s eyes widened in mock offense. She raised her arm to swat at him before he could escape.
“Watch your mouth!”
But, oh, she would laugh. A high-pitched, delighted laugh. The kind only drawn out by Jeongin and his mischievous, dimpled smiles.
“You called off the engagement the day before,” Seungmin pointed out. “So it wasn’t cheating.”
Seungmin raised the spatula he was holding toward Jeongin, who rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at him. He snatched the utensil from his hand.
“That’s why you're my favorite grandson,” Halmeoni declared, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and a pinch at his ear that made Seungmin scrunch his shoulder up and duck away, smiling despite himself.
Jeongin looked personally betrayed. His mouth fell open and his brows drew together as he looked between them. “Excuse me?”
Halmeoni fixed him with a stern look, one eyebrow raised. “You’re excused. Finish washing those dishes.”
Seungmin resumed slowly chopping vegetables as Jeongin dragged his feet to the sink, attempting to flick water at him.
“Don’t get a big head,” he said. “Watch her change her mind when you-know-who gets here,” he added in a stage whisper.
Something inside of Seungmin shifted at the mention of Jeongin's brother. He kept his eyes on the cutting board.
"Then you better start working harder," Seungmin said to the counter. He glanced over his shoulder briefly to see his expression, but the boy was too busy scrubbing a stubborn spot on a pan. Seungmin smiled, quickly flicking a piece of carrot at his temple and snorting when it landed in the sink with a plunk. Jeongin retaliated with another flick of water in his direction. Halmeoni swooped in with a scolding.
Amidst the laughter and chatter, with the television in the living room broadcasting some intense crime mystery drama in the background, Seungmin heard the front door unlock.
He paused in his motions, peering toward the entryway.
His eyes landed on a head of dark brown hair, toeing off his shoes, setting them beside the others before shrugging out of his coat.
Minho looked up at him, a few strands of his neatly fixed hair falling in front of his eyes, imperfect enough to look intentional.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
“You’re late,” Jeongin called from the sink.
“Traffic,” Minho answered easily, setting his keys on the entry table.
“Minho-ya!” Halmeoni immediately called from the stove, her voice brightening. “You’re here. Did you eat?”
Minho glanced toward the kitchen. “Not yet.”
“Good. Then wash your hands and set the table.”
“Yes, Halmeoni,” he called back.
His gaze swept across the crowded kitchen, landing on Seungmin.
Even after all these years, Seungmin still had the same stupid reaction. He cleared his throat, averting his gaze.
He shouldn’t be surprised at this point. They were bound to share the same space occasionally. It was inevitable. Statistically significant, even. Jeongin was his best (and, for a long time, only) friend. Minho was his brother. It came with the territory.
Still, Seungmin hadn’t accounted for the weird guy he’d met several years ago - the one who wore sweatpants nearly every day, threw pencils at his head from the living room during exam season, and acted like Seungmin was an inconvenience while somehow always saving him a seat at the kitchen table - to become this… well-groomed… adult standing in front of him.
He paused, accounting for his own age. Freshly twenty-three. He guessed they were both technically there. You know. Adults. With jobs and futures and, hell, taxes to worry about.
So, it wasn't as if he expected Minho to walk in still looking like the same eighteen-year-old guy who’d opened his eyes to a new part of himself. People changed. Became different versions of themselves.
If only that one part of himself had changed too.
Because he had tried. God, he had tried. He’d told the snakes in his stomach and the birds in his chest to fuck off and go somewhere else whenever Minho looked his way. But still, they stayed. Those annoying beasts.
Minho’s gaze dropped to the knife gripped in Seungmin’s hands before flickering back up to his face.
“Someone’s happy to see me.”
Seungmin looked down as well. He placed it on the counter and wiped his hands on the apron Jeongin’s grandmother had let him borrow, adorned with a pattern of cartoonish cats smiling up at them.
“Vegetables,” he replied, making eye contact briefly before looking away. He imagined forcing the birds in his chest back into their cages.
Minho hummed with a tiny nod. “Are you chopping them or dissecting their organs?”
“What?”
"Here." Minho reached for the knife. "Watch."
Minho stepped in beside him, close enough that Seungmin caught the clean citrus scent of his shampoo. Seungmin side-stepped, nearly stumbling, and, well, did as he was told. He watched with an expression he hoped looked less fascinated than he felt as Minho chopped with precision.
When he had finished, Minho handed him back the knife. Seungmin quietly took it, looking down at the perfectly cut cabbage. Show off.
“You know, most people just say hello.”
Seungmin watched the corner of Minho’s mouth twitch.
“Hey!” Halmeoni glanced over her shoulder from the stove. “Don’t bother my helper, he’s learning!"
“I’m not bothering him,” Minho replied, turning toward the other side of the kitchen.
A small sound came from the sink. Jeongin, who had clearly been pretending not to listen, failed to hide his amusement.
And that was about all the conversation they managed before Halmeoni finally decided the food could survive without her for a moment. She handed her spatula to Jeongin, who took it like she had given him a live animal.
“Minho-ya, come here,” she demanded, already reaching for his arm. “Tell me about your week. I haven’t seen you.”
She fussed over him before he could even answer, asking if he was eating properly, if he was sleeping enough, and why he never called her first. Then, naturally, she reminded him that she had already told her entire reading club about her accountant grandson living in Seoul and graduating from a top university her other grandson had applied to.
She never mentioned that Jeongin hadn’t gotten in. Nor did she ever seem to remember that he was an education major. But somehow, she always found a way to mention that he was friends with a lawyer. To which Seungmin would remind her he wasn’t a lawyer yet, only for her “memory” to fail once more.
Dinner was thankfully less awkward than when Minho first entered, but it usually was when Jeongin was there. Somehow, he always found a way to bridge whatever silence settled over a room. He could fill the cracks in conversation; glue the people in his life together so seamlessly. Seungmin always wondered how he did it with such ease.
Some evenings were lighter. Some more constricting.
All were better than a dinner with his parents.
“Oh, before I forget,” Jeongin said, looking between them. “Don’t make plans Friday.”
“Wasn't planning on it,” Seungmin muttered to him as he passed a side dish across the table. Minho picked it up a moment after, passing it to their grandmother before she could reach for it.
“Good. We’re having people over,” Jeongin said, quickly, whipping his head over to his brother with a smile. “Hyung, you’re invited.”
“I’m not buying you beer,” Minho said beneath his breath as Jeongin glanced toward their grandmother, who was distracted by the crime drama playing across the room.
“I can buy my own beer, thanks.” He stuck his neck up in confidence, but the words were whispered in order to not reach her ears.
Minho snorted. “With what money?”
“How many people are coming?” Seungmin asked, folding his arms on the table.
Jeongin looked up, counting on his fingers. When he got to his second hand, Seungmin sighed.
“Just remembered I had a colonoscopy that day.”
“Ha ha,” Jeongin laughed mockingly. “It’s just a few people from my program.”
He continued counting. “Changbin-hyung… You—” He turned toward Minho. “Oh, hyung, you can bring Jisung.” He said, referring to his roommate and longtime friend. Someone Seungmin had heard about enough times to feel like he knew him, despite never actually meeting the guy. From the stories he’d heard, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wanted to.
Minho paused for the briefest second before reaching for his cup and taking a drink. The pause was so brief Seungmin almost convinced himself he imagined it.
“And guess what,” Jeongin said after chewing and swallowing a bite.
Seungmin furrowed his brows when Jeongin looked toward him, twiddling with his chopsticks.
It took Seungmin a split second to recognize the expression on his best friend’s face. The one he’d seen countless times when Jeongin was about to say something he knew would get under his skin. The one he’d learned from Seungmin, who used it many times to his own advantage. Namely, getting to choose where they ate. The one that meant trouble.
“Hyunjin will be there, too.”
At once, the table grew suspiciously quiet. Seungmin could feel all eyes on him. A deer caught in the headlights.
“Hyunjin?” their grandmother asked, clasping her hands together with immediate interest, crime drama forgotten.
Jeongin grinned cheekily, his dimples making another appearance.
“Yeah, Seungmin, tell them about Hyunjin.”
Seungmin attempted to kick him under the table, mouthing “shut up” at him. Except, he miscalculated his aim.
He froze.
That wasn’t Jeongin’s leg.
Minho, mid-bite, raised his eyes. He gave him a silent stare, chewing rhythmically. But he said nothing.
Seungmin could feel the snakes slither.
Jeongin snickered beside him. Seungmin turned to him with a death glare.
Remember, we live together, he told him with his eyes. Jeongin answered with a single, carefree look that read, karma is a bitch.
Seungmin sat back, holding his tongue as he remembered the family dinner three weekends ago, when he’d accidentally let slip the details of Jeongin’s not-so-temporary art piece on his torso. His grandmother had only barely started talking to him again.
Their grandmother wore a gleeful expression. “And this Hyunjin? What kind of boy is he? Is he handsome? Where’s a picture? Is he in law school? Oh, is he studying medicine? I always thought you’d find a nice doctor. A doctor and lawyer are a good pair —”
“We’re friends, halmeoni,” he said quickly, holding his hands up.
“That’s how all good relationships start, dear,” came her reply. “That’s how I knew my husband was the one.”
Minho snorted, raising his cup to his mouth. “You hated harabeoji when you met.”
Seungmin’s gaze slid toward him, allowing himself a brief glance before turning back to their grandmother, who had apparently not heard Minho’s comment. Or was choosing to ignore it. Either was a very real possibility.
“He’s a psychology and art major,” Jeongin offered, ignoring Seungmin’s death glare. He picked at his food, probably searching for the best way to pile as much of it into his mouth as possible. “He’s also really pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. And guess who got his number?”
“Well, we’re partners on an assignment,” Seungmin said, stabbing at his plate.
“Could’ve asked for his Instagram,” Jeongin added, stuffing his face with another large bite.
Seungmin put a hand on his temple. “I don’t have Instagram, you know this.”
“Real convenient,” Jeongin replied through a mouthful of food.
“Wait. Hwang Hyunjin?” Minho piped in, raising a brow. “The model?”
Jeongin nodded, his cheeks rounded but his eyes indicating a smile.
“Really?” Minho repeated, looking over at Seungmin with a hint of amusement.
Seungmin’s face grew hot. He had the good sense to not kick him again under the table.
“What’s funny?”
Minho shrugged, picking at his own plate. “Nothing, just…” Minho looked at him, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Processing.”
Seungmin frowned. “What’s there to process?”
“Well, Hyunjin’s basically a celebrity,” Minho said, like this was a documented fact, glancing over at Jeongin for confirmation. The boy nodded along as he ate. “And you’re…”
Seungmin scrunched his brows. “I’m…?”
“A fucking nerd,” Jeongin supplied kindly, his grandmother whacking him on the head for cursing just as Seungmin successfully kicked him in the shin. “Ow!”
Their grandmother sent a warning look at her youngest before squeezing Seungmin’s arm.
“Don’t listen to them, darling, anyone would be lucky to date my favorite grandson.”
Seungmin resisted the urge to rub at the spot, giving her a soft smile.
She opened her mouth again, a widened grin appearing as she pushed herself up from her chair.
“Now, who wants dessert?”
Before she could get very far, a cough caught in her throat, a long hacking sound. As she attempted to breathe, a wheezing came from her lungs.
“Halmeoni?” Jeongin straightened.
Minho was already standing. He reached for her water, bringing it to her lips and rubbing her back.
She nodded at him, taking her cup, then attempted to shoo him away as her coughing fit died down.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Sit.” She patted Minho’s shoulder, and Seungmin watched as he slowly returned to his seat, but not before looking down at her half-eaten plate.
“It’s getting late,” Minho declared, eyeing Jeongin.
For a moment, Jeongin didn’t say anything. His eyes flickered toward their grandmother, then briefly toward his brother. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the concern disappeared behind a smile. Seungmin knew that mask well.
“Ah, halmeoni,” Jeongin said, setting his chopsticks down and glancing toward the empty dishes scattered across the table. “I didn’t want to be the one to say this, but I have no room for dessert.”
It was, without a doubt, the worst lie he could have come up with. Seungmin had to tighten his lips to keep his neutral composure. But the thing about Jeongin was that, like his grandmother, he also had a knack for storytelling. As long as he believed the story, he could put the image in others’ minds. Make them feel what he felt. He had that way about him; he had a way of parting the clouds in a rainy atmosphere.
“You have never said no to dessert.” She reached over, pinching his cheek with a fondness that made him scrunch his nose and attempt to pull away.
“People change, halmeoni!” He laughed.
“Not you,” she said, matching his laughter and squeezing him into a hug. “You will always be my chubby baby.”
Seungmin looked away then, blinking down and pretending to be more interested in the dishes in front of him as he helped Minho clear the table.
There was something strange to his ears hearing someone say things like that with such certainty. Such warmth. He’d never really gotten used to it over the years. The noise, the fullness, and the unabashed affection. They always mixed with memories of cold rooms, empty dining tables, and echoing halls.
Seungmin lingered by the kitchen as he dried the plates, placing them on their rightful spots on the shelves. He watched Minho move around the room, his knuckles white as he gripped the sponge in his hand. Seungmin felt something stir in his chest, climbing toward his throat.
He didn’t let the feeling wash over him, shoving it into the same locked cage as his chirping birds.
He reached for another plate.
***
By the following Friday, Seungmin was pretty sure this little “small get together” that Jeongin had been talking about was becoming more of a —
“It’s not a party,” Jeongin insisted, pouring chips into a bowl.
Seungmin looked around at their small kitchen, drinks stacked in their one cooler and more filling the fridge. The furniture was pushed around, save for the couch and coffee table, disposable cups lined neatly on the counter, and snacks organized into bowls. Jeongin had called Minho at least a dozen times to ask if he could bring this or that or the next thing.
He’d even gotten the karaoke machine out.
“You love singing,” Jeongin said.
“Jeongin,” Seungmin crossed his arms, sighing. “We’ll get kicked out if we’re too loud.” He reminded him as he trailed behind the boy, who moved through the apartment putting away breakable items and their one painting adorning the wall.
Jeongin scoffed, clearly not worried. “Mrs. Jung loves you. She’s not gonna kick you out.”
He was referring to their landlord, an older woman who wore bright red lipstick and always had her hair in a perfectly curled condition. Who, in fact, did not love Seungmin. She loved the money his parents sent every month.
“Let’s not test that theory,” he said, but knew the remainder of his efforts would be futile. Jeongin had been talking about getting his friends together for months, ever since they’d found their first non-dorm style apartment together.
The apartment that was technically his and Jeongin’s, but sometimes still felt like another thing his parents had arranged for him. Another reminder that everything came with conditions.
Get into law school. Keep your grades up.
Don’t get distracted.
“Hey.”
Seungmin looked up.
Jeongin was watching him, his head tilted slightly, already recognizing the look on Seungmin’s face when he was deep in thought. He hated when Jeongin did that. It was like he was reading his soul out loud.
“What?” he said, quickly finding something else to do with his hands. He shifted the snack bowls on the table, arranging them by color.
“You’re not gonna stay in your room the whole time, are you?”
Seungmin shrugged, satisfied with his organization. “I’ve got homework.”
“You always have homework,” Jeongin muttered, throwing away a piece of trash on the counter. “You can have fun every once in a while. It won’t kill you.”
No, but his parents just might.
The doorbell rang before either could say anything more.
The first thing Seungmin noticed when Minho arrived — other than the obvious stupid way his basic white t-shirt and dark washed jeans made Seungmin’s insides come to life — was that he was carrying exactly none of the things Jeongin asked him to bring. The second thing was that a guy with blue hair and snake bites was carrying all of them.
Said guy looked around the apartment with big round eyes, animated expressions, and a loud voice.
Ah. That must be Jisung.
“Woah, dude, it smells so good in here,” he said, looking at Minho with a smile showing his gums. He knocked him with his elbow as the other closed the door behind them. “We need that at our place.”
“You mean in your room?” Minho said. “Don’t lump me in with you.”
“It’s just an air freshener,” Jeongin said, taking one of the bags from Jisung’s hands and looking through it. "Hyung, I told you to bring cups.”
"I brought cups," Minho replied, following them to the kitchen where Seungmin gave them a flickering wave. Minho nodded at him, perching himself on a stool and stealing a chip. Seungmin flitted his eyes around the room, awkwardly.
“No, I brought the cups,” Jisung said with a grunt, hauling the bags onto the countertop. Seungmin was surprised at his strength. He had a tiny frame and a shorter stature, all hidden under an oversized black hoodie.
“No. Neither of you brought the cups,” Jeongin said, pushing past the bag and bringing out a pack of tiny, plastic rainbow colored shot glasses. “What are these?”
“Cups!” Jisung said, brightly, taking them from Jeongin’s hands. “By definition, small open containers that hold liquid.”
Seungmin watched the exchange from his spot near the counter, unable to stop the small smile pulling at his mouth. He understood why Jeongin had described him the way he had. Loud. Eccentric. Weird.
But funny, he had to admit.
“Is he always like this?” Seungmin asked Jaonegin before he could stop himself.
Jisung turned toward him, eyes widening slightly at the turn in conversation. They’d never spoken before, and Seungmin could see a glimpse of uncertainty escaping from those rounded eyes before being replaced by the same brightly energetic demeanor. Another thing about Jisung, Seungmin found himself thinking. There was a boyishness to him under all the colored dye and piercings.
“Like what? Fun? Charming? Handsome?”
“Annoying,” Jeongin teased, throwing a chip at him.
The apartment continued filling slowly after that. More shoes collected by the door. More voices layered over the music.
Seungmin found himself pulled into conversations he hadn't expected to have. He learned that one of Jeongin’s classmates had an unhealthy obsession with crime podcasts, that another had failed their first driving test because they accidentally turned left in a right turn only lane, and that Jisung apparently believed every embarrassing story became better if you added “in bed” at the end of it.
Seungmin was still standing near the kitchen, deciding whether to make a run for it, when he caught sight of someone stepping through the entryway. Hyunjin.
Seungmin let out a sigh of relief.
He looked good. Of course he did. Seungmin didn't need to hear the hushed whispers or see the double takes around the room for him to know that. Hyunjin was the kind of person people just… noticed.
Which was one of the unfair things about him.
He had the type of face that could stop traffic – a beauty mark beneath his left eye, perfectly pouted lips, and pretty symmetrical features – but it was more than that. He had a presence. One that made conversations pause for half a second. He stood tall, moved gracefully through a crowd, and somehow always seemed to draw attention that he himself never seemed to notice. At least, not outwardly.
And then there was the fact that once you got to know him, well, it turned out he had an even better personality.
Contrary to what people might assume, Hyunjin was the least vain person Seungmin knew. He had a shyness about him, hidden beneath the confidence everyone else seemed to see. But when he opened up, he could be goofy. Dramatic. Sensitive, even. Seungmin could attest. He'd seen him get misty-eyed over an inspiring art piece, get genuinely worked up while they worked on an ethics presentation about a whistleblower who'd risked his career to expose corruption, and completely lose it over sick pet videos, always donating a bit of money to every one he came across.
Most of all, Hyunjin was kind. Sometimes to a fault.
Maybe that was why he was just so easy to like.
“Hey!” Hyunjin greeted him with a wave, smiling as he approached. He slid into the space by Seungmin’s side and clinked their red cups together in greeting, ones Minho had grabbed from the car after he and Jisung had enough of teasing Jeongin. “You’re out of your cave.”
Seungmin gave him a small nod in greeting. “I was sort of guilt-tripped into it.”
Hyunjin laughed delightedly, then looked the apartment up and down, his eyes sparkling.
“I figured Jeongin would go overboard with the “hang out”, but this is, uh…” He trailed off, his eyes shifting over the amount of people, flinching as they heard Jisung loudly cackle across the room.
Seungmin’s gaze followed the sound. He watched as Jisung put his arm around Minho’s shoulder with another screech of laughter. Watched as Minho excitedly told another joke into his ear. They seemed to be in their own little world.
Seungmin wasn’t sure what the feeling was that entered his chest. But it didn’t feel pleasant.
“Do you even know half the people here?” Hyunjin asked over the ever increasing volume, shaking his head and raising a brow at the loud duo.
“Not a clue,” Seungmin said, a bit distracted, and tried to bring his head back to the current conversation. He turned to his friend. “I’m glad you could come.”
Hyunjin smiled. He took a long drink from his cup and shifted away slightly. Seungmin watched him stiffen, wondering what caused the sudden distance. He figured he was imagining it.
“I mean,” Hyunjin said, after wincing from the alcohol. “...I was curious.”
“About the party?” Seungmin asked.
Hyunjin laughed, staring out ahead of him, then glanced at Seungmin. A shy smile appeared on his lips. “About you.” He said, almost serious. Then a beat passed, and he bumped their shoulders playfully. “You do exist outside of lecture halls.”
Seungmin blinked.
…What was the word Minho had used?
Processing.
Before either could say anything more, Jeongin appeared beside them, immediately inserting himself into the conversation.
“Don’t look at me but someone – who’s not me – volunteered you guys for the next game.”
Seungmin narrowed his eyes, staring down at his best friend who grinned back.
“No.”
“Come on!” Jeongin pouted, shaking his shoulder.
“Absolutely not.”
Hyunjin watched then with an amused smile, red cup held loosely between his hands. He glanced at Seungmin, raising his voice above the music.
“I don’t know. Might be fun?”
Seungmin looked at him. He furrowed his brows. Of all people, he hadn’t expected Hyunjin to be the one encouraging this. He was just as prone to staying in on a free weekend as Seungmin. But, today, there was a different air about him. A shift. Seungmin couldn’t read it.
He pursed his lips.
“What game is it?”
Jeongin grinned.
***
Seungmin glanced toward the living room, where everyone had started rearranging themselves onto the floor in a haphazard circle. Or oval?
He didn’t know. Frankly, he didn’t care. This was stupid and Jeongin was the devil. Move over, Minho.
His eyes drifted around the group of drunk twenty-somethings as he bounced his leg against the foot of the couch. He could feel it pressing into his backside while he chewed on the inside of his lip, avoiding eye contact with everyone around him, namely the head of dark brown hair across the circle accompanied by his loud-ass friend.
Okay, he needed to calm down.
Jeongin explained the rules. Which were simple enough. A bottle would be placed in the center of the coffee table. Whoever it landed on had to kiss the person who spun it. The kind of kiss was entirely up to them. A quick one. A dramatic one. Tongue. No tongue. Whatever. Anything was allowed as long as it was consensual.
There was only one rule.
“You don’t kiss, you drink!” Jeongin added, holding up his cup.
The group surrounding them laughed along.
Seungmin looked down at the red cup in his own hands, wondering how the hell he’d gotten here.
He glanced back and forth before raising his hand. “Question.”
“No further questions!” Jeongin shut him down.
Seungmin tightened his lips. He lowered his hand, blowing out a breath and looking up at the view from the floor, very aware of his senses.
The lights from the cheap party bulbs reflected across the wooden table. Empty cups gathered near people’s knees.
The first spin belonged to Jisung, which was probably the most fitting way for the game to begin. Jisung spun with gleeful confidence, causing the bottle to topple over to the floor. With a laugh, he brought it back to its place.
“Okay, take two!” he joked. Minho smirked beside him.
Seungmin wanted to roll his eyes.
Jisung spun again, with less force this time.
Everyone leaned closer, drumming their hands on their legs dramatically.
The bottle turned. Slowed. Then stopped.
On Minho.
Seungmin froze, his attention immediately sharpening.
Minho stared down at the bottle, then at Jisung with an imperceptible expression.
Jisung grinned back at him. “Rules are rules.”
The others immediately started cheering as Jisung turned toward him with exaggerated flare, making everyone laugh. Then he leaned forward and pressed a quick smacking kiss against Minho’s cheek before scrambling back to sit down. He laughed with shaking shoulders, beaming at him.
Minho didn’t move, looking unfazed by it all. He simply leaned forward to grab the bottle for his turn.
The next spin was a lot quieter and more precise as Minho twisted his wrist. The bottle turned across the table. Seungmin felt his breathing hitch. He dug his fingers into his knees.
The bottle slowed. Then stopped.
On Jeongin.
Seungmin felt the tension release.
“Oh, hell no,” the younger said, reaching for his drink. Before he could, Minho rushed forward and attempted to give him a kiss on the cheek. Jeongin pushed him away with a laugh, twisting his neck away from him.
Minho gave up after a few seconds, leaning back into his spot with an unimpressed look as Jeongin fixed his hair and acted as though he’d narrowly escaped the jaws of a lion.
The room laughed, and the game moved on.
The bottle passed from person to person. The rules became less important as everyone got more comfortable, the spins becoming slower and the reactions louder.
Changbin somehow ended up with a dramatic lipstick mark on his forehead. Jisung had made multiple attempts to have the bottle land on Jeongin, even if it wasn’t his turn. Minho sat back, electing to drink every time it faced toward him.
And Seungmin, thankfully, had avoided nearly every spin.
Then it was Hyunjin’s turn.
The room inhaled.
Seungmin watched him place the bottle in the center of the table, his fingers lingering against the plastic for a second before he gave it a spin.
The bottle moved in a lazy circle. Everyone leaned closer, watching it turn. Waiting with bated breath.
It slowed. And stopped.
On Jisung.
For the first time all night, Jisung was completely silent.
His smile faltered, just slightly, as he looked across the circle at Hyunjin, who seemed just as surprised. His eyes flickered down to the bottle, then back up at Jisung.
Then Jisung laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Guess that’s me.”
Hyunjin blinked, then laughed softly under his breath.
The room, which had been full of shouting and teasing only seconds before, seemed to grow strangely attentive.
Hyunjin moved forward, stretching across the space.
The kiss was brief. A soft, chaste kiss against lips.
When he pulled away, Jisung stayed still for a moment longer than necessary. Then, as if shaking from a spell, he broke out of it.
“Wow. Okay," he said. “I get why people write poetry now.”
The room erupted into laughter and a few exaggerated boos.
Somewhere in the commotion, Minho quietly pushed himself to his feet and disappeared toward the kitchen.
Seungmin frowned, following him with his eyes. Wondering what had shifted.
“Your turn!”
Seungmin tore his gaze away, shifting his attention back to the circle. Oval. Blob — Whatever — of tipsy, horny people in front of him.
He shook his head. “Uh, no, I'm just watching—”
Immediate boos erupted around him. He grimaced as Jeongin and Changbin got the entire party clapping, chanting his name like some kind of public execution.
“Seungmin!"
Clap clap.
"Seungmin!"
This was the worst night of his pathetic life.
“Fine, fine.”
Fuck.
He leaned forward and twisted the bottle harder than necessary, mostly hoping everyone would finally shut the hell up.
Every pair of eyes stayed fixed on it.
The bottle spun.
Slowed.
Slower…
He squeezed his eyes closed before opening them.
Stopped.
It landed on Jeongin.
Who immediately scrambled to his feet, reaching for the object.
“Pass.”
“Dude! You can't move it!” Jisung laughed.
“Let him,” Seungmin said at the same time Jeongin stuck his tongue out with a, “Watch me!”
Seungmin couldn’t help the laugh. He’d pestered Jeongin for years trying to get one — when they were alone and ten other people weren’t watching, mind you — and knew by now all efforts were completely useless.
Jeongin spun it again.
Everyone leaned closer.
Then, the bottle slowed. Then stopped.
Landing in the empty space between Jisung and Hyunjin. Right where Minho had been sitting only moments ago.
Seungmin's eyes drifted instinctively toward the empty space.
A beat of silence passed.
"Does that count?" someone laughed.
"Guess the bottle misses him," Changbin snorted. "Should we drag him back?"
"Too late," Jeongin said with a lazy wave. "He forfeited. It’s between you guys, so Seungmin has to pick.”
Seungmin scrunched his brows. Well if it was that easy to forfeit…
His gaze lingered on the bottle before drifting toward the empty place beside Jisung.
Hyunjin looked down at the bottle before laughing. He sounded nervous.
"It's... you or me," he giggled, glancing briefly at Jisung, who was still too busy staring at Hyunjin to notice he hadn't even been the one to spin it.
"Or maybe we all get to kiss?" Jisung craned his head toward Jeongin. "Is that allowed?"
"Do it," Jeongin said, already half upside-down on the couch. His cup was empty as it hung from his hand.
Seungmin could hear the “oohs” and “aaahs” from all sides, mixed with laughter and someone immediately calling it unfair. Probably Changbin.
Seungmin stared at the bottle, then at Jisung, then at Hyunjin, who looked up at him with a half-dazed expression. Then toward the empty spot in the middle.
"I need to pee," Seungmin heard himself say, immediately standing, still holding on to his drink.
He quickly walked off before anyone could say anything more.
The door to his room was only a few steps away. For the first time all night, he could breathe. Fumbling through the darkness, forgoing the light switch, he opened the door.
The lights and sounds from the living room, flashing neon red and green and purple and a rhythmic techno beat, flooded the darkened space briefly before he closed and locked the door behind him with a sigh. He turned around.
Then, he noticed the silhouette of a body on his bed, dark brown eyes peering up at him. He jumped.
“Fuck,” he breathed out, eyes meeting Minho’s with surprise flashing across both their faces. Minho sat up.
“Shit. This is your room.”
“Looks like it,” Seungmin replied, standing idly by the door, his hand hovering over the handle and opening it again. He peered over his shoulder into the hall then back at Minho, tapping the red cup in his other hand.
They heard a loud bellow of high-pitched laughter that made them both jump. Jisung.
Minho scowled.
“Can you close the door?” he said, laying back.
Seungmin nodded, maneuvering back out into the hall before Minho shouted after him.
“Wait.”
Seungmin stopped in his tracks as Minho stared at him. The man sighed, waving over to him. “You don’t have to leave. It’s your room.”
Right. It was his room. But right now, it felt like an alien spaceship. Minho had never been here before. Yet, there he was, spread out on his comforter, as cozy as ever.
Seungmin nodded again, then slid into the room, clicking the door shut behind him, locking it on instinct. The sounds of music and overlapping chatter becoming muffled.
As he flicked on the lamp beside his bed, he looked over his surroundings, toward the baseball memorabilia on his shelves, the law books stacked on his desk, the poster of his favorite band on the wall, the picture frame of him and Jeongin posing for a selfie after finishing their first semester. There were some jackets shoved onto his desk chair he’d forgotten to clean up. His stuffed dog had fallen to the floor near the pile.
Seungmin busied himself shoving the clothes on his chair into a laundry basket, glancing over at Minho, who had a hard expression on his face. Seungmin didn’t really recognize the feelings behind it, but he’s only seen that look when Minho was stressed. Or sick.
“Okay, look, if you came in here to throw up—,” Seungmin started, seeing Minho’s contorted face. It shifted into a scowl, cutting through the end of his sentence.
“I’m fine.” Minho snapped, laying flat on his back against the sheets, his head tilted up to the ceiling. He closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.
Seungmin clicked his tongue. He chanced another glance at him as he moved his stuffed dog into a drawer as inconspicuously as he could. Sorry Daengmo, he thought to himself.
“Yeah, sure, you’ve never looked better.”
Minho’s hands pressed into his eyes once, before he flung them to his sides and turned his head toward Seungmin. He gazed at him with a dark, half-lidded stare.
“You flirting with me?”
Seungmin grimaced toward him (ignoring the slithering in his abdomen) and took a seat at his now empty chair, opening his laptop. He both hated when he did this and liked to entertain the conversation. Though he’d never admit it aloud.
“I’d rather shower with gasoline and have Jeongin light the match.” He said softly, starting to type.
“Hm,” Minho hummed. “That’s a new one.”
“I’m here all week,” Seungmin responded, like it was normal.
He rubbed a finger over his nose, blinking his eyes at the screen and searching for his reading glasses.
“Are you doing homework?” Minho said, reaching over and tapping Seungmin’s shoulder, offering him his glasses, which had been on the bedside table.
Seungmin shrugged, taking them and gently wiping the lenses. He placed them on and returned to his assignment.
“Guess I’d also rather fuck a law textbook,” he responded under his breath. He could hear a sharp laugh come from his side. He let a smile slip, immediately placing a hand on his chin and feigning concentration.
Except now the only thing in his head was that stupid sound on repeat.
“Are you done?” He asked after a few seconds of silence, turning his gaze toward the man on his bed, looking up toward the ceiling with parted lips, his hoodie riding up his stomach just slightly, his hands placed behind his head. He wondered if his sheets would smell like him after he’d left. Like that familiar citrus scent.
“Am I distracting you from your lover?” Minho responded without looking toward him, blinking up toward the ceiling.
“I’d just like to have my bed back,” Seungmin sighed.
“Too bad,” Minho teased, turning on his side and curling deeper into the sheets.
Seungmin could hear his muffled words as he pressed his face into the pillow. A silent cacophony of fireworks went off in his brain. Minho would definitely leave his mark.
He could see him stare at the red cup placed gingerly on top of a coaster out of the corner of his eye.
“Thought you hated drinking.”
Seungmin turned to him, confused, then landed his gaze on the red cup. He met Minho’s gaze for a second before looking away with a shrug.
It was then, seeing Minho perched on his bed, a red cup of alcohol in his palm, and a quiet demeanor, that he was reminded of the last time they’d spoken when they were truly alone. He wasn’t sure if Minho even remembered it. But that night had stayed in the back of his head every day since.
“Well, someone told me I’d like it more in college,” Seungmin said, looking over at him, wondering if he’d even recall the memory.
Then, a knowing smile tugged at the corner of Minho’s mouth. He turned the cup between his fingers for a moment before glancing over.
“Want to put that to the test?”
Seungmin had just started to process the rest of Minho’s statement as the other leapt from the bed and grabbed a hidden bottle of soju from the floor.
“Hold on,” he said, as Minho uncapped the bottle, pouring the contents into his own cup before looking at Seungmin for confirmation. Seungmin paused, pursing his lips. When he didn’t respond, Minho nodded.
“Don’t feel pressured. I’m drinking with or without you,” he said with carefree assurance, after setting the bottle down for Seungmin to decide on his own.
Maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt.
He took the bottle and poured it into his own cup, glancing up at Minho who raised his cup back to him. They tossed back the liquid simultaneously and Seungmin could feel the burn in his throat. He tried to keep his face composed, but it contorted briefly. He shook his head.
Minho chuckled beside him. “You haven’t changed.”
“Well, it’s still disgusting.”
“That’s why they have drinking games,” Minho said, filling his cup once more and looking to Seungmin, who nodded and held out his own.
Okay, two drinks wouldn’t hurt.
“Like what?” He asked, taking his cup back.
Minho smirked.
***
Minho laughed against the foot of the bed as Seungmin snorted into the sheets near the headrest, looking down at him, his hands crossed behind his neck.
“You’re actually insane,” Seungmin said.
Minho glanced over. “You’re the one who asked.”
There was a comfortable silence as Seungmin drank, wiping his mouth with the back of hand as he looked up toward the ceiling. He felt a laugh bubble in his chest as he looked over at his drinking companion, toward the curve of his neck, at his hoodie, unable to help himself.
“Okay, I’ve got another one,” Seungmin said, tapping Minho’s shoulder with his socked foot.
“Shoot,” Minho said.
“Have you ever, like, taken one of those… pictures?” He asked. Minho gave him a questioning look. Seungmin scrambled for the right words. “You know, like a…” he pointed at his chest, making a gesture of taking his shirt off. Minho laughed.
“A dick pic?”
Seungmin’s cheeks flushed. “No, I mean—”
“A thirst trap?”
“Like a — nude.”
Minho looked up at him for a second with amusement. He lulled his head from side to side, then nodded. Seungmin sat up straighter, giving him an incredulous look.
“Really?”
“It was one time.”
Seungmin stared at him for a second longer than he probably should have. There were still things about Minho he didn’t know. Things he’d spent years wondering about and never had the courage to ask.
Seungmin thought of the living room, the empty space by Jisung’s side. How he could feel the warmth just inches away from him now. He tapped his fingers against his cup, laughing silently into it.
“You know,” he said. “the bottle landed on you after you left.”
Minho turned his head slightly, looking over at him.
“That’s not a question.”
Seungmin blinked. He looked down at his cup. Right. Twenty questions. Not twenty… completely random observations.
“Fine,” he said, shifting slightly. “Question.”
Minho hummed, amused. “Go ahead.”
“...Why did you leave?” He asked.
“When?”
“Earlier,” Seungmin inhaled. “During the game.”
Minho paused, taking a drink from his cup.
“Pass.”
Seungmin frowned. He opened his mouth. Closed it.
“Why did you notice?” Minho asked, suddenly.
Seungmin looked away immediately, suddenly very interested in the ceiling. Felt the birds flapping in his chest.
“Pass,” he muttered.
Minho immediately pointed at him. “Drink.”
Seungmin groaned, but he raised his cup anyway. He barely managed a sip before the liquid slipped past his lips and down the front of his shirt.
Minho laughed below him and sat up to crouch over him, inspecting the stain.
“Shit,” he said. “That’s not coming out.”
Seungmin groaned, “I really liked this shirt,” as Minho took his cup to place it on his desk.
“Wait.” Seungmin shifted to sit up as Minho reached over him. “Put it on a —”
But the rest of his sentence died on his tongue as they faced each other.
Seungmin was still swaying with the alcohol buzzing through him before he realized with a thrumming heart beat what was happening.
Minho’s eyes were on him. Their bodies pressed close. He looked away for a moment to put the drink down, reaching further to place it atop his textbook.
Seungmin’s brain forgot about a coaster.
“It was my turn,” he said, quiet, sudden.
Minho blinked at him with a playful smile, glancing down at the stain, then back up at Seungmin. “I thought it was mine.”
Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut, then swallowed. “It was my spin. Earlier. When you left.”
A pause. Minho looked at him like he was waiting for the rest. Seungmin could see his eyes searching, confusion etched onto his features.
“The bottle landed where you were sitting – would’ve been sitting,” he admitted finally, words spilling out before he could catch them. “That’s all.”
“And?”
Seungmin immediately regretted saying anything. He felt trapped, cornered, betrayed by his own mouth.
“And nothing,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Just thought it was funny.”
Minho’s expression shifted.
“Funny?”
Seungmin looked away. “Yeah.”
“The idea of kissing me is funny?”
Seungmin’s face warmed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t?”
Seungmin looked back at him, caught between wanting to defend himself and realizing he had absolutely no defense.
The music outside the door felt impossibly far away. Seungmin could hear his own heartbeat, could feel the warmth of Minho’s body this close, could feel every second he spent not looking at him making it worse.
Minho watched him for a moment. Then his mouth tilted, just slightly.
“Why don’t we find out?”
Seungmin froze. The room seemed to shrink around them.
“What?”
Minho shrugged, but his eyes didn’t leave his.
“What’s so funny about it.”
Seungmin rolled his eyes, feeling the bubbling laughter enter his chest again with the alcohol in his system. Minho was still hovered over him, tilting his head at him slightly. His expression hadn’t changed. Seungmin realized the question wasn’t rhetorical.
“You’re serious?”
Minho shrugged. “Rules are rules.”
Seungmin hated how easily his mind supplied Jisung’s face saying the exact same thing in a different cadence, at the exact wrong moment. The memory flashed before he could stop it, before he could let himself think too hard about what this meant.
So he didn’t. For once, he didn’t.
A beat of silence moved between them before Minho leaned forward. Seungmin clutched the sheets beneath him. Their breaths mingled as Minho leaned closer, facing Seungmin once more, his eyes moving to his lips.
Minho’s lips grazed softly against his own for a moment before leaving. A whisper of a kiss.
When Minho pulled back, he stared at him with searching eyes.
Seungmin stared back, his throat dry, his chest heavy. Thoughts were crashing together in his head. He couldn’t form a coherent sentence if he tried. He swallowed. Could feel the birds bursting from their cages, the snakes escaping their enclosures.
Their bodies paused, their breaths dancing. An urge, a hunger, came over him so completely, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it at bay.
Then Minho’s hand rose. Fingers moved slowly over his neck, his ear, his cheek. He fought the shiver climbing up his spine. He did so anyway. He could see Minho’s expression change slightly, a hint of amusement.
He wasn’t sure what was happening. But he wanted it to happen again. And again. And more. And whatever happened after that. He wanted anything to happen.
It was at this juncture that he was presented with two choices.
He could stop this. No. He should stop this. Turn away. Pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe they could salvage any feelings about it in the morning. One drunken kiss could be explained, written off, forgotten about.
Then, there was option two.
Minho was looking at him with an expression he’d never seen… which was making it very hard to make that decision.
Heat bloomed in his chest.
Seungmin eyed the door he’d had the good sense to lock upon entering. He exhaled. That fact alone didn’t make the dilemma much easier — in fact, it was starting to make it into a very much real possibility and he wasn’t too sure if he was well-equipped yet to handle the consequences.
Then, to make matters more confusing, an image of Jeongin flashed in his head and a sick feeling entered the pit of his stomach.
“You’re thinking a lot,” Minho stated, and Seungmin could feel the tingle of his moving lips, hovering just a hairbreadth over his own.
And suddenly, all thoughts dissipated. His brain had emptied. Full vacancy. Blank check. An evacuated building.
Seungmin inhaled, looking down at those lips, teasing and pink, once before moving forward, feeling pulled toward the other. He stole a tentative kiss, a harder press this time. And as he pulled away, Minho’s hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him back, their lips crashing against each other.
He felt himself pressed back into the bed, Minho’s hand coming to rest fully on his cheek, then sliding down his chest.
Seungmin placed his own around his neck, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss further. Fueling the flame. As he did so, he could hear a soft moan. His whole body shuddered. Hands roamed further, grabbing at the hem of his shirt and slowly pushing past the fabric. Seungmin hissed.
Minho pulled away. His eyes seemed to ask a question. Seungmin shook his head before Minho could say anything.
“Just — your hands are freezing,” Seungmin stuttered out, before capturing his lips again, pulling him in once more. He could feel a laugh bubble between them.
“Warm them up,” he felt Minho whisper as he pulled away to kiss his cheek, then his neck. Seungmin’s eyes closed.
“You can,” he started, but words were not coming easy. “Take it – the –,” he said, trying to remember the word ‘shirt’ but suddenly forgetting how to speak entirely. What the fuck?
Instead of trying to say anything else and further embarrass himself, he found one of Minho’s hands and guided it to his waist. He wished Minho hadn’t heard the urgency in his voice, hadn’t felt the pleading in his body movements.
But he supposed he had, as Minho’s hands immediately tugged at the fabric and he heard a soft, “lift your arms.”
He opened his eyes to Minho, throwing his shirt near his laundry basket. Seungmin huffed out a laugh.
Minho looked down at him. “You’ll need to soak it —”
“Cold water,” Seungmin said against his mouth, finding the only words he knew how to speak were teasing ones. “I know.”
“Smart ass.”
“Old ass,” Seungmin teased back before Minho bent down to bite at his shoulder. He hissed again, but felt the electricity move throughout his body. He bit his lip, but the sound slipped through anyway.
“Hm,” Minho kissed the same spot.
He retaliated by pushing him off and rolling them over, hovering over him, then pulling back, scared of what to ask next.
Minho seemed to read his mind. He took Seungmin’s hands and led them to the hem of his own shirt, keeping eye contact. He gave him a nod as Seungmin gazed down, uncertain. He then gingerly pushed the fabric up —
And halted.
His heart was pounding. Loud. Too loud. He couldn’t hear anything else but the incessant thump, thump, thump of it all.
“Need help?” Minho said, a playful glint in his eyes.
Seungmin was pulled from his thoughts as he felt his fingers fidget with the fabric. He shook his head, then in a burst of courage, leaned down to press a kiss at his stomach, then another further up, and further, until Minho’s shirt reached his collar. He could hear him make pleased sounds beneath him, could feel his hand running through his hair, then yanking. His breathing stuttered.
Minho helped him the rest of the way, shrugging off his shirt and letting it fall to the ground as it was placed on the edge of the bed.
Seungmin looked down at him, an astronaut discovering the dark side of the moon. He could see the faded burn scar on his inner left arm from cooking. He’d known about this one. Then his eyes roamed to the birthmark on his stomach, small and misshapen. Then, his collarbone, his torso, his ribcage. A map of uncharted territory.
“Want a picture?” Minho teased.
Seungmin crash landed back on earth.
“Yeah, I’ll put it in the obituaries.”
The two paused then, sharing a small exchange of chuckles, before they faded. Seungmin could feel the bass of the party thumping from outside the door. Could feel it match his heart beats.
Then, Minho snaked an arm around his neck, pulling him in. And Seungmin wanted nothing more than to fall into the depths.
There was a pounding on the door.
Seungmin’s eyes widened. He immediately leapt away from the bed, stumbling onto the floor. He hit his back against his desk chair, hearing it swivel back and gently hit the wall. He grimaced, hearing the doorknob jiggle and the pounding increase.
Seungmin thanked every deity that he’d locked the door.
“Seungmin! Open up! I have to pee and Changbin-hyung’s using my restroom!” He could hear Jeongin shout.
Over and over.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
At his voice, Minho reached blindly toward the pile of clothes beside the laundry basket, grabbing the first thing his hand landed on. A mustard yellow sweater. He quickly shrugged it on and over his head (the only indication of their earlier activities being the cherry red tips of his ears). Seungmin, too preoccupied with his current terror to remember if he’d worn that all night or not; too buzzed to even recognize it as his own.
“I know you’re there!”
Minho sighed into the palms of his hands, pushing them over his face, before he stood and attempted to stumble past Seungmin to the door, throwing him his own shirt from the floor.
Seungmin caught it, struggling into it, as he rushed forward to catch his arm, “Wait, what are you —” He tried to whisper, then tripped over himself as Minho placed his hands in front of him in a gesture for Seungmin to calm the fuck down.
He couldn't tell what he was thinking, watching as he fixed a mask over his features, shrugging into an air of composure. Something the brothers undeniably had in common. He pointed at Seungmin’s desk, taking Seungmin’s shoulder and turning him toward it.
Seungmin immediately sat. He waited for his heart to slow. Attempted to look busy. Quickly fixed his hair.
Upon the door opening, Seungmin fixed his gaze on his laptop, gripping his thigh beneath the desk. From the corner of his eye, he caught the dark hallway beyond the doorway and Jeongin leaning heavily against the frame.
He clutched the door frame, his body twisting and turning. He took a glance between the two, his eyes glazed but discerning as ever. Seungmin’s stomach dropped.
“Oh my god, finally!”
Minho played it off, naturally. “I wouldn’t go in there if I was you.”
Jeongin furrowed his brows then widened his eyes, making a disgusted face and shoving at his brother. “Gross,” He said with a grin, quickly moving past him. “Whatever, I have to pee so bad!”
Seungmin cast a glance at Minho as Jeongin hurried to his restroom. Minho was glancing at him as well.
Seungmin eyed him carefully, attempting to convey a question along the lines of, “what do we do now?” And Minho was not answering him, instead returning to the same place he’d been when Seungmin entered the room, staring up at the ceiling from his bed.
The two stayed silent for a long minute.
Then, he heard a flush.
He sat back against his chair immediately as Jeongin re-entered with a large sigh.
“Oh my God, I drank too much,” he said, holding his head and plopping onto Seungmin’s bed next to his brother, making him scoot over. He took a pillow into his hands and squeezed it, then frowned over at Seungmin, hitting him with it.
“And you,” he said. “You never answer your phone. Hyunjin was looking for you everywhere.”
“And here he was. In his bedroom, of all places,” Minho said, nonchalant, scrolling on his phone, a hand behind his head.
“Shut up,” he said, attempting to kick him with his socked foot.
“Can you hand me my phone?” Seungmin said to him, watching as Jeongin stretched to reach it on the bed. Before releasing the object, he raised a brow.
“Why was the door locked?” He cast a glance at Seungmin, then, who raised his own brows with a shrug.
“Didn’t want to be bothered.”
“Hyung’s bothering you,” He inclined his neck to Minho.
Seungmin swallowed, trying to keep his composure.
“I’m keeping him company,” Minho supplied lazily.
Jeongin narrowed his gaze. Seungmin could feel the sweat on his neck.
Then, he sighed, curling up on his side, looking over at Minho. “He was looking up hardcore porn, huh?”
His face spread into a cheeky grin, his dimples prominent, a sleepy gaze in his eyes.
Seungmin didn’t even have the energy to fight him for that comment as he rubbed a hand down his face, trying to calm his rapid heart beat. He could hear a soft chuckle from Minho.
“What do you think?”
“I think he’s capable of the worst,” He whispered, loud, in a conspiratorial manner.
Seungmin sat further back against his chair. He blew a small breath out to the ceiling.
Yeah, he supposed he was right.
Then, a buzzing came from his hands. He glanced down, checked his phone, his eyes widening. He cleared his throat, peering briefly at Minho, who sat silently against his headboard with his eyes on his phone, Jeongin’s leg kicking at him softly. Skimming the message (for a second time), Seungmin’s chest filled with flapping wings.
don’t be afraid to use more tongue next time.
Seungmin shut off his phone, quickly pocketing it and searching for his cup. He gulped down the remainder of his now lukewarm drink, trying not to recoil at the taste.
"...Hyung," Jeongin said, a curious lilt to his voice, his head resting against the older’s stomach as Minho held him there in a headlock. He sounded close to sleep.
"Hm?" Minho hummed, looking as unbothered as ever while Seungmin’s insides were unraveling. His eyes met his own as Jeongin’s started to flutter close with a yawn. Seungmin could feel the drinks fizzing in his stomach, rising to his throat.
"Were you wearing that sweater earlier?"