Work Text:
1. INT. SCHOOL CLASSROOM. MID-AFTERNOON
MINHO and SEUNGMIN sit in chairs a few metres away from each other. SEUNGMIN has his hands clasped tightly together over his lap. He’s sitting up straight. Uniform shirt buttoned to the top and neatly pressed. He shifts uncomfortably each time MINHO looks over at him. MINHO is slouching slightly in his chair, a bored expression on his face. His uniform shirt is unbuttoned all the way, showing his white shirt underneath. He casts occasional glances SEUNGMIN’S way, the ghost of an amused smile appearing each time he does.
DIRECTOR: Okay, this is going to be super straight forward. I’m going to ask you a few questions about school, your studies, friends, and your social life.
MINHO (snorting): Or lack thereof, in Seungmin’s case.
SEUNGMIN rolls his eyes, but doesn’t give him a response. He smiles politely at the DIRECTOR.
SEUNGMIN: That sounds good, PD-nim.
DIRECTOR: Great, let's get started. What are your names and school ranks?
SEUNGMIN: My name is Kim Seungmin, I’m a senior and I’m ranked at first place.
MINHO: Lee Minho. Senior. 247th place.
SEUNGMIN leans forward in his chair, a gleeful look in his eye.
SEUNGMIN: Let the record show that there are two hundred and forty-seven people in our grade.
MINHO lets out an irritated huff. He crosses his arms.
MINHO (mocking nasal voice): Let the record show that Kim Seungmin is an insufferable prick.
SEUNGMIN: Ooh, big word. I’m surprised you know it.
DIRECTOR: Alright, boys. Let’s reign it in for the next question. What are some things you value?
SEUNGMIN: Hard work and diligence.
SEUNGMIN cuts an unsubtle look MINHO’S way.
SEUNGMIN: I don’t like slackers.
MINHO (not missing a beat): I don’t like pretentious people. I believe in taking life easy and just going with the flow, then good things will come to you.
SEUNGMIN: Good things don’t come unless you work hard for it. This is why you’re the lowest ranked.
MINHO: Why are you so concerned with my ranking? Worry about yourself.
SEUNGMIN: Our rankings are literally the whole point of this documentary.
MINHO (defensively): They’re just interviewing students. Not everything is a competition.
SEUNGMIN: They’re interviewing the best and worst students. They’re clearly trying to set some sort of example here.
SEUNGMIN looks at the DIRECTOR.
SEUNGMIN: Isn’t that right?
DIRECTOR (visibly flustered): Oookay, next question! What are your hobbies? What do you do outside of studying?
MINHO (straightening up): I’ll go first since I know my colleague here will have trouble answering that one. I like napping in the sun and drawing. I paint too, water colours, usually.
SEUNGMIN (rolling his eyes): I like reading.
MINHO chuckles.
SEUNGMIN (hesitant): And…photography.
MINHO’s eyes widen in surprise. The camera catches it but SEUNGMIN doesn’t.
DIRECTOR: That’s great. What’s something you love?
MINHO: my parents, my cats, drawing, resting and my friends.
There’s a long pause while they wait for SEUNGMIN to answer.
SEUNGMIN (quietly): my grandma.
DIRECTOR: And something you hate?
MINHO’S lips curl into a grin. SEUNGMIN groans, like he’s expecting whatever is about to come out of MINHO’s mouth.
MINHO: Something I hate? Kim Seungmin.
🎥 🎞
Kim Seungmin is weird.
It’s the first thing Minho realises about him. He’s weird. Minho isn’t weird. He’s normal and well-adjusted, which is why he doesn’t understand how he attracts weird people into his life.
(Not that Seungmin is in his life. No way. Far from it.)
The first time he meets Seungmin is during the first week of school. Meet is kind of a strong word. They don’t exactly have a conversation, but Minho gets a good sense of his character right then and there. He’s standing next to Seungmin in assembly. The principal calls out his name, announcing him as class president. Minho distinctly remembers the way Seungmin walked. He marches across the hall and up that stage like he was going into battle. It’s ridiculous. Ratty sneakers and second-hand uniform, he accepts his class president badge with a bow.
The boys around Minho are making fun of Seungmin’s uniform. For the way his shirt is a size too big and the frayed end of his pants. He has softer features than the rest of the boys, his build is a lot smaller too, scrawnier. Minho figures it’s because he’s younger than the rest of the class, everyone knows Kim Seungmin skipped a grade to make it to high school.
But according to one of the boys, Seungmin had gone by a different name in middle school. He looked different too; he had longer hair and wore the girls uniform.
“Hey,” Minho snaps when one of the boys says something particularly nasty. He glares. “Shut the fuck up.”
They fall quiet immediately.
Sure, Kim Seungmin is weird, but no one deserves to be made fun of for being different.
When Seungmin walks back to stand in the crowd, class president badge pinned under his nametag, Minho turns to him and smiles. It’s the first week of school. It’ll be good for him to make friends that aren’t Jisung.
Seungmin meets Minho’s gaze, but he doesn’t smile back. His lips are set to a stern line.
“Look forward,” he hisses, before turning back to look at the stage.
Minho scoffs, offended. Whatever, he doesn’t want to befriend someone with a stick up his ass.
The second time he meets Seungmin is at the school library. He’s sitting in his favourite spot, a beanbag by the east window. It gets the best sunlight, rays pouring over him while he rereads his favourite book. He hears someone clear his throat and looks up.
Kim Seungmin is standing over him, arms crossed and book bag hanging off his shoulder, almost bursting at its seams.
“What’s your name?” he demands.
Minho raises an eyebrow, “Lee Minho.”
“I’m Kim Seungmin,” he says, “What’s your ranking?”
Minho blinks. “Two hundred and forty-seventh.”
Seungmin’s face twists in confusion, Minho can see him doing the mental gymnastics, “But our grade has…”
“Two hundred and forty-seven students,” Minho says, helping him out, “That’s correct.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Seungmin says, “How are you the top reader?”
He points to the noticeboard on the wall. The library likes to post the top five people who borrow the most books each month, to keep competitive spirits high or some bullshit like that. Minho’s been the top reader three months in a row, not that he cares.
He shrugs, “I like reading.”
Seungmin narrows his eyes, like Minho said something suspicious.
“Whatever,” he says, before marching away.
See? Weird.
The third time, obviously, is in the beginning of 12th grade, when they’re invited to do the documentary. Minho didn’t want to do the documentary in the first place, he didn’t like the idea of strangers knowing his face and it’s not like he needed the money from it. But his parents insisted.
“It’s a great opportunity!” they told him, “You’ll study with the best student in school, hopefully that will improve your own grades.”
If Minho cared about improving his grades, he would’ve by now. School was just not something that interested him. He wants to live a peaceful, stress free life. And there was nothing peaceful about high school.
But he also couldn’t say no to his parents, so he relented.
“Can you stop fidgeting?” Seungmin hisses, elbowing his arm so it isn’t resting on Seungmin’s desk. Minho elbows him back. “I can’t focus.”
Minho can’t focus either. Algebra is his least favourite subject and everything the teacher is saying sounds like gibberish. Not to mention, the film crew who have been filming him doodle in his math book for the past thirty minutes like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Minho casts a wary glance at the giant camera focused on them.
“Don’t look at the camera,” the director quietly reminds him, “Pretend we’re not here.”
Minho sighs, that’s easier said than done. He rests his head in his folded arms and blows out a puff of air. Seungmin makes an irritated sound.
“Shut up.”
Minho scowls, “I didn’t even say anything.”
“Your presence is distracting enough.”
“Oh? I didn’t take you for a flirt, Seungminnie.”
Seungmin’s grip tightens around his pencil, Minho smirks.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, cheeks turning pink.
Minho hums, “Sure you didn’t.”
Seungmin doesn’t hiss at him to shut up for the rest of the lesson. Minho calls this a success. He keeps his head in his arms and lets his eyes wander to Seungmin.
(Not intentionally, Seungmin’s annoying face just happens to be in his way).
Seungmin’s face is scrunched into his Serious Concentration face as he jots down his notes. It’s kind of cute—the firm press of his lips, the wrinkle of his brow when he doesn’t understand something. His cheeks are dotted with acne and his lips are dry, redder in some places because sometimes he chews on them and his braces cut into the skin. His eyes are red, brimming with exhaustion even as he pays full attention to whatever the teacher is saying. Minho wonders how much sleep he loses over maintaining his top ranking. Seungmin would be so pretty if he gave himself a goodnight’s rest. Scratch that, Seungmin would be so pretty if he wasn’t such an insufferable know-it-all.
The scratching of pen against paper and their teacher's voice droning on is enough to lull Minho to sleep. His eyes grow heavy, and he thinks Seungmin catches him staring a millisecond before he closes them. He pays it no mind and drifts off to sleep.
“Yah!” someone is violently shaking him awake, a relentless grip on his shoulders even as Minho tries to shake them off. “Yah, Lee Minho. Wake up.”
That annoying voice can only belong to one person.
“Fuck off,” Minho groans.
“Class is over, idiot, you’ll miss lunch.”
Minho cracks his eyes open to find Seungmin giving him an unimpressed look. The classroom is empty, save for them and the camera crew, who are still filming. What are they going to gain from footage of Minho sleeping through class?
Minho wipes the drool from his mouth, back cracking as he sits up. Seungmin is quietly packing away his things when Minho realises something.
“Wait, didn’t you skip a grade?”
Seungmin pauses, casting him a wary look. “Yeah, so?”
“What year were you born?”
Seungmin bites his lip, hesitating before answering, “2000.”
“Ha! You’re younger than me. Why are you speaking casually?”
“Because I can,” Seungmin says immaturely.
Minho shoves him, “Yah. Stop being rude. Call me hyung.”
Seungmin shoves him back, “In your dreams, Minho-yah.”
This time, Minho shoves him hard enough that he falls off the chair. It gives the director something interesting to film, and Minho is nothing if not helpful.
🎥 🎞
Seungmin is kind of a loner.
It’s something Minho’s noticed since first year. He’s always eating alone at lunch and sitting by himself during free lessons. He’s a quiet kid, minding his business and keeping his eyes cast to the floor, like he’s trying to blend into the wall and force himself into being forgotten.
Minho is kind of a loner too. His only friend is Jisung; a high-strung angry kid in the grade below them. Minho is always having to save his ass from the fights he picks with the older kids. But it’s not like Minho minds being a loner. He doesn’t care, Seungmin seems to care.
During a free lesson, Seungmin sits down in the chair next to Minho.
He looks up from his drawing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“We’re not filming today.”
The documentary crew come in to film twice a week. Minho and Seungmin don’t see much of each other outside of that.
“I know,” Seungmin says, taking a book out of his bag. It’s one Minho’s already read before, he thought it was terribly boring but he’s not going to warn Seungmin about it.
“So, why are you sitting with me?”
Seungmin nods to the only other table with an empty space, it’s a group of boys. They’re the same boys who were gossiping about Seungmin on the first day of school. The same ones who constantly give him a hard time.
“I’m not gonna sit with them, am I?” Seungmin says dryly, “They hate me.”
“I hate you,” Minho reminds him.
Seungmin scoffs.
“They hate me because I’m trans,” he says, then pauses, “And poor. It depends on the day.”
“I hate you because you’re annoying.”
“Exactly.”
Seungmin fixes him with a look, daring Minho to kick him off the table. He doesn’t. He just sighs.
“Fine, you can stay.”
It’s not like he would’ve left if Minho said otherwise, anyway.
Seungmin’s grin in response is way too smug. It prickles under Minho’s skin. What’s he so damn happy for? He watches as Seungmin opens up his book and starts reading. He’s about halfway through, according to the scrap piece of paper he uses as a bookmark.
Feeling petty, Minho says, “The main character dies in the end. Killed by his best friend.”
Seungmin puts the book down, face flashing with utter betrayal. The smug smile wiped clear. That’s better.
“ You’re pure evil.”
Minho grins. He knows.
🎥 🎞
One month into filming finds them studying together at the library. Minho’s starting to get used to the cameras, and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s getting used to having Seungmin around him all the time too.
(Just because he’s getting used to it, doesn’t mean he likes it.)
They’re sitting on the same side of the library table so the cameras can get a good wide shot of the two of them together. Seungmin is studying, the college entrance exams are coming up so he’s being more insufferable than usual. Minho isn’t studying, he’s sketching. He’s been getting into architectural drawings lately, after watching a few Youtube videos about it. Right now, he’s working on a drawing of the school building.
Minho is left-handed and Seungmin is right-handed, so their elbows keep knocking.
“Move over,” Seungmin hisses when their elbows knock again, messing up his neatly printed notes.
“You move over,” Minho says, shoving him.
Seungmin is such a nerd. His notes are colour coordinated and he uses these colourful pens. Everything is highlighted or underlined in red and for some reason, it bothers Minho. Feeling petty, he takes his pencil and doodles over one of Seungmin’s neatly written equations. He draws a fucked up little guy.
Seungmin raises an eyebrow, “What is that?”
Minho smiles, “His name is Jureumi. He’s going to curse you.”
Seungmin stares at Jureumi. Then he looks at Minho. “He’s ugly.”
“You’re ugly.”
“You’re stupid.”
“You’re being immature,” Minho mocks in a high-pitched nasally voice that sounds exactly like Seungmin, in his opinion. “That’s you, by the way.”
“I gathered that, thanks,” Seungmin says flatly. He looks back at his notes, underlining something with a red pen.
Minho looks at his drawing. It’s a black and white sketch, but upon further inspection, he thinks it would benefit from some colour. He snatches the red pen from Seungmin’s hand.
“Hey!” Seungmin yelps, reaching for the pen. “Give that back.”
Minho pushes him away with his free hand, “No, I wanna use it.”
“It’s mine!” Seungmin surges forward in his chair, half onto Minho’s chair as he curls his fingers around the pen. He pulls. Minho pulls back. He can’t believe he’s wrestling Kim Seungmin over a fucking pen right now. He doesn’t even want it that badly but he can’t give up. He gets his fingers around the other end of the pen and tightens his grip.
Seungmin tightens his grip too. They both pull at the same time.
Snap!
The pen breaks into a clean half, spilling bright red ink all over their fingers.
And all over Minho’s drawing. Seungmin freezes.
Minho sees it happen in slow motion, red seeping into the white paper, ruining the sketch he spent hours on. He blinks.
His glare snaps to Seungmin.
Seungmin audibly gulps, fear in his eyes.
“I…”
“Kim Seungmin,” Minho says calmly, “You have five seconds to run away.”
Seungmin does not hesitate. He pushes his chair back and dashes out of the library at an impressive speed. Minho takes a deep breath and turns to the camera.
“You better turn that off,” he advises the cameraman, “Unless you want this to turn into a True Crime documentary.”
He stands up and runs after Seungmin. The cameraman gets up and follows, hot on his heels.
“Yah, Kim Seungmin!” he yells, cutting through the crowded hallway with his eye on his prey. He catches up easily, Seungmin is not a very fast runner. He always sits on the bleachers and studies during P.E. “I’m going to murder you!”
“I’m sorry!” Seungmin wheezes out. He’s really running for his life. Narrowly avoiding students as he dashes through the hallway. He even speeds past a teacher, who calls out ‘no running in the halls!’ after him. Seungmin ignores him. Can you believe it? He ignores a teacher in his haste to get away from Minho. “It was an accident, I swear.”
“They’ll never find your body!”
Minho picks up his pace until he’s hot on Seungmin’s heels. When he gets close enough, he runs and launches himself on top of Seungmin.
(In hindsight, it was not such a good idea. Minho wakes up the next morning with bruises all over his body. But in the moment it felt fantastic.)
They both go tumbling down to the floor, a puddle of knocking limbs and Seungmin’s strained pleads for mercy. Minho manages to pin Seungmin under him, legs on either side of him and hands around his neck. He doesn’t squeeze hard enough to cause any real damage, he’s only trying to scare Seungmin.
“Get off me!” Seungmin grits out, but there’s a glint in his eye like he’s enjoying this. He elbows Minho’s arm, hard, making him lose balance and collapse on top of Seungmin. He uses this as an opportunity to roll them around and pin Minho under him instead.
Hands pinned over his head, body pressed against the filthy hallway floor. Minho stares wide-eyed at a heavy breathing Seungmin on top of him. He grins wildly.
“Got you,” he says, breathless.
“Kim Seungmin,” Minho warns, heartbeat in his ears, “Get the fuck off me.”
Seungmin tilts his head. His grin is smug and annoying. Minho wants to smack it off him.
“I think I like the view from up here, hyung .”
Minho goes entirely still. He’s been nagging Seungmin to call him hyung for a month now, and this is the first time he’s saying it. It catches Minho off-guard. Heartbeat picking up for some inane reason. Of course Kim Seungmin waits until he has the upper hand to say it, he’ll never truly give Minho any sort of power.
He feels the way Minho stiffens under him and smirks. Asshole.
Minho brings his leg up and knees him, making his grin twist into a pained grimace. Minho shoves him off and Seungmin crumbles on the floor next to him, clutching his stomach in pain. He knocks back into the shin of a passing by student.
“Watch it!” they yell, before storming off. Minho giggles.
They’re getting a few weird looks from the students walking through the hallway, most of them ignore Minho and Seungmin and walk around them, too used to their antics by now. Minho gets to his feet, feeling sore and grimy and oddly content. He hooks his hands under Seungmin’s armpits and pulls him to his feet, he lifts with a surprising ease.
Minho smooths down Seungmin’s dishevelled uniform and says, “That should teach you not to mess with me.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, recovering quickly from his pain. He smacks Minho’s wandering hands away and fixes his messy hair. He’s flushed red and his bangs are sticking to his sweaty forehead. Minho can’t help but stare a beat longer than necessary, maybe he likes Seungmin a little messy. He’s always so put together, pressed uniform and fixed collar, it’s nice to see him a little undone.
Not for the first time, Seungmin catches him staring. Not for the first time, Minho has no defence. He clears his throat awkwardly.
“I’m sorry about ruining your drawing, hyung,” Seungmin says. There’s that damn word again. Minho is starting to regret being so insistent Seungmin call him that, it’s making his skin crawl and ears burn. “It was an accident, I would never do something like that on purpose.”
The world goes on around them. Students passing by, the cameraman finally catching up to them and filming the tail end of their conversation. It all blurs away and Minho can just see the expression of genuine apology written across Seungmin’s face.
Tch. He’s so pathetic.
“I know that, idiot,” Minho says, “It’s not a big deal, you don’t need to cry over it.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, “You’re so annoying. I can tell it was a big deal to you.”
“The drawing was so-so anyway, I can make a better one.”
“That’s true,” Seungmin teases, “Not your best work, I could probably do better with my eyes closed.”
Minho scowls, “Fuck you.”
Seungmin laughs, shoving past Minho to head back to the library. His laugh carries across the hallway, unbidden and loud. He’s so goddamn annoying, Minho thinks as he follows Seungmin back to the library.
🎥 🎞
Seungmin doesn’t buy food from the canteen. He doesn’t bring his own lunch either. During lunch, he sits across from Minho and studies. On days where he has no homework left to do, he reads. It’s weird.
Today, they’re eating lunch on the field. The director wanted a change of scenery; shades of green to contrast the muted grays of the school hallways. They laid out a classic red-and-white picnic blanket for the two of them to sit on. Minho balances his lunch on his lap, Seungmin lays on his stomach and reads.
“Hey,” Minho says suddenly, startling Seungmin, “Why aren’t you eating?”
Seungmin raises an eyebrow at him, “Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” Minho huffs.
“Okay,” Seungmin goes back to his book.
Minho groans, he drops his lunchbox into the space between them.
“Here.”
Seungmin makes a confused noise, lifting his head again. He passes an unimpressed look between Minho and the lunchbox.
“What?”
“Eat.”
Seungmin narrows his eyes, “Is it poisoned?”
“Yes.”
“I—” he looks down at the food again. Minho’s mother always goes overboard with packing his lunch. She’ll fill it to the brim with rice, packing it with as much kimchi, spam and sausage as she can fit. All topped with a fried egg. Sometimes, she’ll even throw in some kimbap. Minho can barely finish it on most days.
“I can’t afford to pay you back,” Seungmin says, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.
Minho sighs, so that explains why Seungmin doesn’t buy food from the canteen.
“It’s fine, my eomma always packs too much food. I never finish it.”
“I’ve seen you inhale a full roll of kimbap before,” Seungmin says flatly.
“Are you hungry or not?”
Seungmin’s teeth sink deeper into his lip, “I am.”
“Eat,” he says, shoving his chopsticks into Seungmin’s hands, “My parents own a restaurant chain, skipping one lunch won’t kill me.”
“If you’re sure, hyung.”
“I never do anything I’m unsure of,” Minho says, “Stop pissing me off. Just eat.”
Seungmin’s lips stretch into a grateful smile. It feels like laying under the sunrays. He sits up straight and lifts the lunchbox onto his lap.
“Thank you for the food, hyung,” he says quietly before digging in.
Minho’s ears burn red. “Whatever.”
He starts bringing Seungmin lunch everyday, in exchange, Seungmin helps him study for the college entrance exam.
“It’s only fair,” Seungmin says thoughtfully around a mouthful of rice. He should really learn not to talk with his mouth full. “I can’t take all this food for free. Didn’t you say your parents were nagging you about the entrance exam? This is me paying them back for the delicious food. It’s not for you.”
Minho steals the last piece of spam from his lunchbox.
“Whatever,” he says.
Minho’s mother is more than happy to make an extra lunchbox, especially after finding out that Seungmin offered to tutor him. She still has high hopes for Minho’s grades, it’s unfortunate.
So really, it’s not like Minho is bringing Seungmin food out of the kindness of his heart. He’s getting something out of it. That’s all it is. A mutual exchange of goods. There’s no need to make a big deal out of it.
“Thank you, hyung,” Seungmin says politely, accepting the extra lunchbox from Minho. He’s smart enough to stop protesting by now, that got old pretty quick.
“It’s no big deal,” Minho answers for what feels like the hundredth time. He watches Seungmin gracelessly shove the entire fried egg into his mouth.
He lets out a shameless moan, “Your eomma is a God. This is so good.”
“It better be,” Minho mutters, digging into his own food. “Otherwise we’d go out of business.”
“They really own a whole chain?” Seungmin asks with a touch of wonder, “What’s it called?”
Minho shifts uncomfortably, feeling his face warm up. “Minnie Eats,” he coughs, “They, uh, named it after me.”
Seungmin smiles. He doesn’t make fun of Minho like he expects. There’s something wistful about his expression. “That’s sweet.”
“I guess,” Minho says, face growing warmer. He’s suddenly desperate to shift the conversation topic away from himself, “What do your parents do?”
Seungmin visibly stiffens, “Um. They worked in the film industry,” he shifts in his spot, gaze staring intesely at the patch of grass between them. “They’re both dead now, though. I live with my grandma.”
“Oh,” Minho blinks. God, he feels like a dick. “Sorry.”
Seungmin shrugs, too stiff to be natural, “Happened a long time ago.”
“I’m adopted,” Minho says, unsure why he says it. Seungmin shared something personal about himself, it’s only fair he does the same. “So I get it. The dead parents thing. My birth parents also. Yeah.”
Seungmin smiles, a tight, uncomfortable thing. Minho misses the smile that reminds him of warm summer days, “Sucks, right?”
“Totally.”
A beat of silence passes.
“Rock, paper, scissors for your fried egg?” Seungmin offers.
Minho scoffs, the tension oozing out of his shoulders. A breath of fresh air. “Fine, but if I win I get your sausage.”
“You’re on.”
🎥 🎞
Seungmin asks too many questions.
In class, he’ll shoot his hand up every fifteen minutes and ask the teacher to explain a theory that confuses him. In the library, he’ll stop the librarian while she’s putting away books and ask her about the new shipment of books.
His questions are most incessant when they’re filming. He’s taken an interest in the documentary, unlike Minho who is just here for the extra pocket money. Between takes, he asks the director about the filming process, about which cameras are the best to use and the names of different shots. The director is more than happy to indulge him, answering the questions in kind and even letting Seungmin try some filming for himself.
“You’re really into this stuff, huh?”
Seungmin looks up from the camera he’s fiddling with, narrowing his eyes at Minho like he’s trying to figure out if he’s being mocked or not. Minho stares back blankly.
“I guess,” Seungmin answers with a shrug. “It’s interesting.”
“It’s really not,” Minho says.
Seungmin rolls his eyes. “I don’t judge you for spending all your free time doodling buildings.”
Minho bristles, “They’re not doodles. ”
Seungmin grins. Dammit. Point made.
“Whatever. All this stuff just seems like a hassle to me,” he gestures to the film crew around them. They’re setting up for the next scene, puttering around Seungmin and Minho with all their equipment. The weather is gloomier than forecasted, meaning they had to change their filming location and set up a lighting system. The director gave Seungmin one of the smaller, hand-held cameras to play with while they waited, like placating a curious toddler.
“I think it’s satisfying,” Seungmin says, “Everyone has a different role on set and they all come together seamlessly, like parts of a machine.”
“You make it sound more poetic than it is.”
“You’re an artist, I’m surprised you don’t see things more poetically.”
Minho shrugs, “That’s just not me.”
Seungmin lifts the video camera up, zooming in on Minho’s face. He doesn’t know if any of this footage is going to be used, but he swipes the camera away anyway.
“My dad worked on a film set,” Seungmin says, “I don’t know what he did, but we have a bunch of his old film cameras at home. I like using them, it makes me feel closer to him.”
“Is that what you wanna do too?” Minho asks, “Directing?”
Seungmin snorts, “There’s no money in that.”
“So?” Minho challenges, “Money isn’t everything.”
“That’s easy for someone like you to say,” Seungmin says bluntly.
Minho raises an eyebrow, he’s about to ask (read: demand) Seungmin what he means by that when the director interrupts.
“You boys ready to start filming?”
Seungmin straightens up, excitment brimming in his eyes. He clearly enjoys this documentary thing a lot more than he lets on.
“Yes, PD-nim.”
Minho sighs, filing his question away for a rainy day.
🎥 🎞
They get closer like this:
The nurse's office after a dodgeball game. Seungmin sits with his legs swinging off the hospital bed, lip swollen and a dark stormcloud over his head. He’s sulking, jutting out his reddening lips so they look poutier than they already are. Minho’s holding an ice pack, approaching Seungmin carefully like he’s an injured deer. Seungmin sniffles. He’s not crying, he’s scowling.
So maybe Minho feels a little guilty. Just a smidge.
They were paired together for dodgeball. The teachers started naturally pairing them together for everything since the filming of the documentary started. Minho’s secretly grateful for it, especially during P.E, because the only person who cares less about sports than him is Seungmin.
For dodgeball, though, Seungmin gets stupidly competitive.
He curls his fists into Minho’s shirt and uses him as a human shield from the balls being thrown their way. Minho keeps getting hit; his arms, his legs and once even his stomach. His soreness is subdued by the sound of Seungmin’s unbridled laughter in his ears. He finds himself laughing along, wriggling out of Seungmin’s grip and shoving the boy in front of him instead. They end up in their own little world, pushing each other in front of the ball and laughing when it get too close. It’s going well.
Until, someone loudly yells “Watch out!” and Minho spots a bright red ball flying straight at his head. All he sees is red and he panics. In a desperate haste to avoid getting hit in the face, he pulls Seungmin in front of him.
A loud slap sounds through the court. Rubber against skin. Then Seungmin is falling to the floor.
Which brings them back here: Seungmin glaring intensely at the floor, Minho shuffling towards him with an apology ice pack.
Minho’s never felt sheepish in his damn life, but it’s all he feels now, since Seungmin won’t even look at him.
“Does it hurt?” he asks.
“No,” Seungmin grits out, “I’m more embarrassed than in pain.”
Minho huffs out a laugh, “You can stand to have your pride hurt every now and then. It builds character.”
Seungmin glowers at him. “I hate you.”
Minho doesn’t know why, but it makes him giggle. An incredulous giggle bubbles out of him, and then he’s full blown laughing. Waves of uncontrollable laughter erupt from his chest. Seungmin’s face twists into a judgemental stare, his signature ‘are you fucking serious?’ face, and it only makes Minho laugh harder.
“You’re such a dick,” Seungmin says, “Are you really laughing right now? My lip is swollen!”
But then the corners of Seungmin’s scowl twist up, like he can’t help himself. Now he’s laughing too. The sheer ridiculousness of how he got hurt is enough to make a reluctant laugh tumble out of him.
Then it’s just the two of them in the cramped nurse’s office, peeling wallpaper and a creaky bed. The ice pack melting in Minho’s hands and blood seeping from the cut on Seungmin’s lip.
Once they both catch their breaths again, Minho steps closer. Gaining more confidence now that the tension has seeped out of the room. He carefully lifts the ice pack and presses it to Seungmin’s bottom lip. Seungmin flinches, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I didn’t mean for you to get hit,” Minho mutters, their eyes meeting across the limited space between them, “It was an accident.”
Seungmin scoffs, eyes surprisingly full of mirth for someone who just took a dodgeball to the face, “Guess this is payback for me ruining your drawing.”
Minho presses the ice pack harder against his lip, just to make it sting.
“You got me,” he says, “I planned it all, right down to Seo Changbin having horrendous aim and throwing a ball at my head.”
Seungmin laughs, quieter this time.
Minho’s hand is going numb from being clenched around the pack, but he keeps it there. They dissolve into a comfortable silence. Silences are normal between the two of them, it comes with being forced to spend unlimited amounts of time with someone you barely like. Minho doesn’t know when their silences shifted from uncomfortable to welcoming.
Seungmin curls his fingers around Minho’s wrist. Flooding his cold skin with a searing heat, it courses through his arm like fireworks. Minho freezes. Seungmin tightens his grip and offers a metal-clad smile.
“Thanks, hyung,” he says, eyes sparkling.
Minho frowns, “For getting you hit?”
Seungmin giggles. “For making me laugh. I can’t remember the last time I laughed until my ribs hurt.”
Minho feels his ears heat up, like the traitors they are.
“Whatever,” he grunts, pulling the ice pack away.
The swelling has gone down at least. The nurse left behind a soothing ointment, Minho dips a cotton swab into it and gently lifts Seungmin’s chin up with his fingers. He hears the way Seungmin audibly swallows, eyes wide but making no move to pull away. Minho’s heartbeat thunders loudly, each nerve ending that touches Seungmin’s skin feels like it’s on fire. He just needs to get this over with. Then it’ll be fine.
He runs the swab over Seungmin’s lip, specks of dried blood catching on the cotton. Seungmin doesn’t wince this time, jaw clenched like he’s trying to stay completely still in Minho’s hands.
It’s only when Minho pulls away, that he can breathe again.
“Thank you,” Seungmin says again, barely a whisper.
“You’re welcome.”
And like this:
A hard kick to Minho’s shin. “Hey.”
Minho doesn’t have to look up to recognise the annoying voice. He ignores it.
Seungmin kicks him again, further up his thigh this time. “Yah, Lee Minho.”
When no response comes, Seungmin’s voice rises in volume, taking on an annoying cheery tone. “Minho-yah. Minhoooo-yah~. Lino. Min-yah. Min-min. Yah-yah.”
Minho tears his eyes away from the book he’s reading. He’s laying on his favourite bench in the school courtyard, it’s placed under a tree so the sun spills through the gaps between the branches. But when Minho looks up, he doesn’t see the sun, he just sees Seungmin grinning down at him. Consider him successfully annoyed.
He pulls himself upright and glares at Seungmin. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Are you finished with that book yet?” Seungmin takes a seat next to him, uninvited, and makes a grab for the book. Minho snatches it away just in time. “It’s the only copy the library has and you’ve been hogging it for weeks.”
Minho smirks, turning over the worn out 1831 edition of Frankenstein in his hands. He knows damn well it’s the only copy. He had no desire to even pick up this book until he saw it on the top of Seungmin’s reading list, then he decided he must have it. Science fiction isn’t even a genre that appeals to him, but Seungmin never shuts up about it. ‘ Shelley pioneered the science fiction genre! She’s a brilliant mind, put some respect on her name!’ so Minho requested the book first just to fuck with him.
And he’s been taking his own sweet time reading it. His evil plan of becoming a minor inconvenience in Seungmin’s life is only just beginning.
“Have patience,” Minho says, “I’m a slow reader.”
Seungmin gives him a flat look, “That’s not even true. You finished Dorian Gray faster than me.”
Minho raises an eyebrow. Seungmin must really be desperate for this book if he’s willing to admit Minho doing something better than him.
“Well, maybe this book is just boring,” Minho says with a shrug.
Seungmin looks scandalised, like this is the most offensive thing Minho could have said.
“Let me read it first then,” he makes another grab for it, nearly falling onto Minho’s lap in his haste. Minho snatches it back again. At least rate, they’ll end up accidentally ripping another library book. The librarian still hasn’t forgiven them for the Wuthering Heights incident. “I’ll finish it quickly and give it back to you.”
“No way,” Minho says, “It’s mine. You can have it when I’m done.”
Seungmin narrows his eyes, and makes a third grab for it. Minho is faster than him because he actually has reflexes. They wrestle for it for a few minutes before Seungmin gives up with a groan. He thinks Seungmin will storm away and finally give him peace, but he simply changes his tactic.
“ Hyuuuung,” he whines, jutting his lips out in a pout. Oh no, that’s not going to work on Minho. He’s stronger than that. He’s witnessed Seungmin use his puppy-dog face to get what he wants before—on the librarian to let him stay after hours, on the director to teach him how to use an editing software. There’s power in Seungmin’s pout. It can start wars, destroy nations, lesser men have died in the face of that pout. But Minho is immune, he’s God’s strongest soldier.
Seungmin’s eyes widen, big and brown, he blinks innocently.
God-fucking-dammit.
“I’m only fifty pages in,” he says with a sigh. He smoothens out the dog-ear he made to mark his place and flips back to the first page. “I’ll read it out loud for you if you promise to shut up.”
Seungmin considers this with a thin press of his lips. “Fine, but you have to read Shelley’s introduction too, it’s the most important part.”
Minho withholds his annoyed groan. “Fine.”
Seungmin breaks into a pleased smile. He leans against Minho’s side—again, uninvited—and hooks his chin over Minho’s shoulder so he can read from the page too. Minho says nothing about the clear disregard of his personal space and starts reading.
The sunlight floods through the branches, basking the two of them in the shimmering afternoon gold. The leaves rustle in the wind, falling over them like rain. Minho reads aloud from the book, when his voice tires out, Seungmin takes over. It’s nice. Pleasant. Minho realises that he’s actually enjoying himself.
And finally, like this:
“You’re actually pretty smart when you try.”
Minho snorts, looking up from his notes. “Try not to sound so surprised.”
“It’s surprising,” Seungmin says with an unapologetic shrug. They’re hunched over the same notebook, Seungmin’s helping him through a problem set. He’s a surprisingly patient teacher, explaining each step in a way that’s easy to understand. Who knew those colour-coded notes of his would come in handy. “You pick things up easily. You could improve your rank if you tried harder.”
Minho rolls his eyes, “I don’t care about my rank. I’m only taking the entrance exam to appease my parents.”
Seungmin hums, he’s doodling idly in the margins of the notebook, completing a half-finished doodle that Minho started.
“Must be nice.”
“What? Ranking low?”
“Not caring about your grades.”
“I choose to not care about my grades,” Minho says, “You can just choose that too.”
Seungmin snorts. “I don’t have a choice. I need good grades to get a scholarship.”
“A scholarship for a degree you don’t even want to do,” Minho says dryly, “You hate commerce.”
He’d been shocked when Seungmin first told him he was applying for business school. Seungmin had never expressed interest in that before, even academically speaking, he was more interested in science and math.
“It’s where the money is. And I can get a job straight after undergrad.”
“Not everything has to be about money,” Minho insists, “We both know you’d rather go to that film school, you reread the brochure PD-nim gave you, like, everyday.”
Seungmin drops his pencil with an annoyed huff, “I told you, there’s no money in film-making.”
“I want to be an artist, there’s no money in that either.”
“It’s easy for you to not care about money. Don’t act like we’re equals.”
Minho furrows his eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”
“Your parents own a restaurant chain , hyung. You’re rich.”
Minho bristles, heat rising to his neck. He always gets uncomfortable talking about money. He knows his parents are well off, he understands he’s more privileged than most of his peers. But rich feels like such a dirty word, especially with the way Seungmin spits it. “We’re not— rich. We’re just comfortable.”
Seungmin gives him a flat look, “You can afford to fuck around and do what you want because your parents will pay to support you. You can choose not to care about money because you’ve never worried about money in your life.”
On instinct, Minho opens his mouth to defend himself. But Seungmin barrels on, progressively getting more and more heated.
“I can’t remember a day where I didn’t worry about money. My halmeoni is getting too old to work which means I’ll have to put myself through college. I care about money because I have to. I don’t want to be broke for my entire life, so if I have to make some sacrifices to live comfortably, then I’ll do it.”
Minho wants to disagree. He wants to tell Seungmin off for having such a bleak outlook on life. That there’s a way to do what you love and get paid for it. But he realises he’s being naive. He’s thinks about how Seungmin never stands up to his bullies in fear of getting suspended, how he sews patches into the holes in his backpack because he doesn’t want to buy a new one, how he refused the HRT treatment the nurse recommended to him because it cost too much money.
Minho spent so long judging Seungmin for never doing anything that made him happy. He thought he was choosing to be prickly, choosing to make life harder for himself. But this whole time, he just couldn’t afford to.
Minho thinks he finally understands Seungmin.
“You’re right,” he says, the words shocking them both. “I was being close-minded.”
Seungmin gapes at him, speechless for once in his life.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice no longer as harsh as it was, his thorns smoothening out as his words colour with surprise, “Did you just admit I’m right? Did I hear that correctly? Say it again, but slower this time, so I can enjoy it.”
Minho groans, “Don’t be insufferable.”
Seungmin’s face lights up. Minho is regretting his words already. “Oh, I’m never ever letting this go. I am right. I’m always right. I’m glad you’ve finally recognised that.”
Minho glares and shoves him, Seungmin laughs brightly, giddy in the face of his discomfort. He’s seriously such an asshole.
“Whatever, let’s just get back to studying,” Minho grunts.
Seungmin barely manages to reel in his giggles, but he diligently returns to explaining the next equation to Minho.
“For the record,” Minho says later, when they’re finishing up the last problem, “The film industry will be missing out, big time.”
His palms go sweaty as soon as he says it. Was it the wrong thing to say? Why does he even care if it is? Since when does he care about what Seungmin thinks of him?
Seungmin smiles, a tight-lipped thing, “Thanks, hyung. Maybe that could be me in another life.”
🎥 🎞
Minho kisses him on the last day of filming.
Or Seungmin kisses him. Neither of them really know who leaned in first, but they argue about it anyway.
They’re filming the ending ments for the documentary. It’s their last ever take and everyone on set is emotional. And maybe Minho is too, just a tad. The director asks them questions about what their experiences with filming was like. If they got closer, if they understand each other better now. Minho stubbornly answers that, no, he still doesn’t understand Kim Seungmin, ignoring the smile that crawls up Seungmin’s face in response.
The weather’s been unpredictable all morning. It was raining on Minho’s way to school, but the clouds cleared by the time first period started. When they started filming, sunlight creeped through the grey clouds, so the crew decided to take the risk and film outside. They wanted some good shots of the school courtyard. The clouds get grayer and grayer as they get through filming, and just before the director yells cut, it starts to pour with heavy rain.
“Ah, shit,” the director yells over the sound of the raindrops against concrete, “Cut! Let’s pack up everyone.”
Minho springs to stand up, leaning his head up so the cool raindrops hit his face. He’s always loved the rain, just as much as he loves the sun. Seungmin on the other hand, curls into himself, he hugs his own body trying to shield from the rain.
“Kids, go find some shelter,” the director tells them, nodding over to the gazebo in the middle of the courtyard. “We’ll clear the equipment and then come get you.”
Seungmin does not move. He goes completely rigid in his spot, arms wrapped around his body. Their uniform shirt is white and the fabric is thin—Minho wonders if he’s refusing to move for the same reason he doesn’t join swimming lessons in P.E or didn’t talk to Minho for a full day after he splashed Seungmin with a hose when they were on cleaning duty.
In a wave of courage, or maybe just stupidity, Minho wraps his fingers around Seungmin’s wrist. Seungmin is halfway through a flinch when he realises it’s just Minho, eyes softening with familiarity.
“Let’s go,” he says.
Seungmin slots their hands together, and they run to the gazebo.
He wonders if anyone in the crew films them run. How it would look: a wide shot of two boys, hand in hand as they run through the rain. The gray skies and footsteps slapping against wet concrete. Raindrops hitting their face as they blindly make their way to the gazebo. Seungmin’s grip, ice cold and tight, around Minho’s hand. His walls slowly retracting as he releases a bout of laughter.
Minho realises that he sounds a bit insane. The stupid documentary and Seungmin’s rambling about different shot types is getting to his head. He’s not poetic. He doesn’t think about shit like this.
They reach the gazebo, soaking wet. Seungmin is still laughing, teeth chattering and hands trembling. That’s when Minho realises he wants to kiss him.
Instead, he pulls Seungmin down on the bench next to him and shrugs off his windbreaker.
“Here,” he mutters, wrapping the jacket around Seungmin’s shoulders. Seungmin curls back into himself, rubbing his hands over his bare arms and shivering. “So you don’t freeze to death.”
Seungmin gives him a flat look, raindrops fall from his eyelashes and onto his cheeks. “This doesn’t help. Your jacket is drenched.”
“Fine, I’ll just take it back then.”
“No!” Seungmin says hastily, curling the jacket protectively around himself.
Minho has to force back a smile, “Brat.”
Seungmin heaves out a sigh, looking out at the relentless rain. It thunders loudly against the roof of the gazebo. He’s taller than Minho, but not as broad, so the jacket hangs loosely around his shoulders. Making him seem smaller than he is. “I hope the footage is salvageable, I really don’t want to film again.”
“Agreed. Ending ments are so awkward.”
Seungmin looks over to him, his nose is bright pink from the cold and cheeks coloured to match. His brown eyes shine, a contemplative look to them.
“The documentary is really over, huh?”
Minho shrugs, “I guess.”
“What does this—” Seungmin breaks off, licking his dry lips, “What does this mean for us?”
Minho stares at him, heartbeat in his throat, “What?”
“Will we still be friends?” Seungmin asks quietly. Uncertainty rising to his eyes.
Minho blinks back at him, perplexed, “We’re friends?”
Seungmin’s eyebrows furrow, “I thought we were.”
“But—” Minho’s voice wavers when he speaks, “I hate you.”
It sounds more like a question than a statement. An amused smile crawls up Seungmin’s face, he scooches closer to Minho.
“You know what, hyung,” he whispers, breath hot against Minho’s skin, “I don’t think you do.”
Minho blinks. Then Seungmin is leaning in, and he’s leaning in too. He blinks again. And Seungmin’s lips are on his.
Seungmin tastes like rainwater and chapstick. Not flavoured chapstick, but the generic one that just tastes like vaseline. His movements are tentative, uncertain, Minho pushes forward and takes control of the kiss. His hand curls around Seungmin’s nape, showing him that he wants this too. Whatever this is. Seungmin responds eagerly, melting into the kiss, his initial uncertainty disappearing as he pulls Minho closer and closer.
They’re both breathing heavily when they part. Seungmin’s skin as heated up in his hands, no longer shivering from the rain. He’s clutching onto Minho’s shirt collar like it’s a lifeline.
Seungmin grins, unbidden and all-teeth, “Your ears are bright red, hyung.”
Minho’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. He glowers, “Shut the fuck up.”
Seungmin laughs, full of mirth. He looks so happy, Minho feels it radiating off him in waves. He’s happy too.
Seungmin croons, “Make me~”
Minho leans in and shuts him up.
🎥 🎞
ONE MONTH AFTER GRADUATION
2. INT. SEUNGMIN’S ROOM. MORNING.
SEUNGMIN and MINHO are lounging together in bed. MINHO is leaning back against the headrest and SEUNGMIN is settled comfortably between his parted legs. His back is resting against MINHO’s chest. MINHO’S laptop is open on SEUNGMIN’S lap, the email browser is open to the inbox filled with unread spam emails. He’s been refreshing the page for the last five minutes. The clock edges closer to 9:00am. MINHO hooks his head over SEUNGMIN’s shoulder, biting his lip as he anxiously watches the screen.
SEUNGMIN turns his head to look at MINHO.
SEUNGMIN: What if you don’t get in?
MINHO (sarcastically): You have so much faith in me.
SEUNGMIN rolls his eyes.
SEUNGMIN: I’m just thinking of the worst case scenario. What if we get into different colleges or you don’t get in at all?
MINHO: What if you don’t get in?
SEUNGMIN: Let’s be realistic here.
MINHO’s face scrunches up in annoyance. SEUNGMIN kisses his nose.
SEUNGMIN: Humour me.
MINHO sighs.
MINHO: I don’t need to get into college. Art degree or not, it won’t stop me from drawing.
SEUNGMIN (frowning): But what about us?
MINHO: What about us? I’ll just move wherever you are.
SEUNGMIN: …oh.
SEUNGMIN’s cheeks turn pink, he faces forward so MINHO doesn’t see.
The clock hits 9:00am. SEUNGMIN refreshes the page. A new email pops up at the top of MINHO’S inbox. He takes a deep breath and opens it. The two boys are quiet as they read the contents of the email. SEUNGMIN finishes reading faster than MINHO.
SEUNGMIN: You got in!
SEUNGMIN leaps up, laptop sliding off his legs.
SEUNGMIN: Hyung! You got in!
MINHO blinks in disbelief. SEUNGMIN straddles his lap, hands on either of his shoulders, eyes shining with pride.
MINHO: Huh, I actually got in.
He struggles to keep his voice neutral.
SEUNGMIN leans in and kisses him with all his might.
SEUNGMIN (whispering): We’re going to college together.
🎥 🎞
They spend the whole break together. Seungmin works for most of it, but whatever free time he has left, he spends with Minho. He works two jobs, one at a cafe across the road from Minho’s parents restaurant during the day, and late night shifts as a bartending assistant at their local bar.
Minho will bring Seungmin lunch from his parents' restaurant, because he never remembers to eat otherwise. He’ll pick a sleepy Seungmin up from his late night shifts and walk him home, letting him lean against Minho, smelling like spilled liquor and grease. Minho wishes there was more he could do for Seungmin, but he gets prickly when Minho tries to pay for something he needs or offers him an easier job at his parents' restaurant.
There’s a learning curve to dating Seungmin, Minho is figuring it out as he goes along.
He uses his new found free time to learn cooking from his parents. His mother teaches him how to sous vide meat and about ten different ways to marinate. He starts bringing Seungmin the dishes he’s experimenting with. He’s also been drawing a lot more, teaching himself different techniques by watching Youtube videos and experimenting with different mediums.
“How come you never draw people?” Seungmin asks him one afternoon. They’re in the middle of a heatwave, laying on the cool kitchen tiles at Minho’s house with the A.C. on blast. Minho’s lying on his stomach as he draws in his sketchbook, Seungmin lies next to him, staring up at the ceiling.
Seungmin dresses more comfortably when he’s at Minho’s place. He’s wearing a tank top, black binder peeking out from underneath and a pair of gym shorts. Minho is fighting for his life trying not to let his eyes linger on the bare stretch of Seungmin’s long legs.
He keeps his eyes to his drawing instead; it’s of the interior design of his kitchen. He’s been trying to expand his skillset from architectural designs, he’s practising by drawing every room in his house.
Minho shrugs, shading in the sketch of his fridge. “I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it.”
Seungmin turns over on his side, propping himself up on his elbow and facing Minho. “If you’re bad at it, you can just say that.”
Minho directs a glare his way. Seungmin has grown immune to his murderous looks by now, it’s terrible, Minho needs to make his glower more menacing.
“Of course I’m not bad at it,” Minho says.
Truthfully, he’s never tried drawing people.
“Prove it.”
Minho regards him flatly.
“If you want me to draw you, you can just say that,” he mimics.
Seungmin grins bashfully, “Caught me.”
Minho studies his boyfriend; his features have sharpened over the months. His cheeks thinned out and jawline is more defined. He’s really grown into himself, shoulders filling out his baggy shirts. Just before graduation, Seungmin started on hormone therapy. He found a charity for trans kids that funded the entire process for him. His voice is deeper now, devastatingly so, but Minho still clowns him when it cracks. He’s growing facial hair too, patchy and thin, Minho had to teach him how to shave.
It’s a fond memory: Seungmin sitting on his bathroom counter, long legs swinging and face covered in messily applied shaving cream. He giggles as Minho steps between his legs, yielding the razor like a knife and threatening him to stop moving. Seungmin’s breath audibly hitches when Minho runs the razor along his jaw, his fingers curled into the fabric of Minho’s shirt. Seungmin warm like a summer day, body against Minho’s, legs wrapping around Minho and pulling him closer. Kissing him in gratitude once Minho finishes up, pulling away with red ears and shaving cream on his own face.
He doesn’t know if can draw Seungmin. He doesn’t know if he can do his boyfriend any justice, not with how handsome he’s gotten over the break (and how handsome he’s always been). Not that Minho would ever admit that out loud.
“I’m not drawing you,” he says, “Your ego is big enough as is.”
“You won’t or you can’t?”
“I won’t.”
“I bet you can’t,” Seungmin goads him on.
Minho gives him a look, “That’s not going to work on me. I’m not competitive like you are.”
Seungmin deflates, “I just want my boyfriend to draw me like one of his French girls,” Seungmin sighs wistfully, “Is that too much to ask?”
Minho’s ears warm up, “Yes.” He shoves Seungmin away from him.
Seungmin giggles delightfully, reaching over to roughly tug on Minho’s reddening ears.
“Hyungie flusters so easily,” he coos, “It’s so cute.”
Minho grabs his hand and twists it until Seungmin screams.
“Hyungie is going to break your hand,” he says sweetly.
Seungmin is an asshole, he’s such an asshole, because all he does is laugh. Minho has lost all his ability to scare him, he’s getting weak. It’s bad for him, he needs to skip town and change his name, but knowing Seungmin he’ll probably just follow. Like the incessant bug he is.
Then Seungmin leans back into his space, unafraid and clingy, he lies his head over Minho’s back and stares up at the ceiling. His presence is warm and real against Minho. He’s humming along to the song playing on Minho’s speaker. So, Minho decides to let him live, for now. He goes back to his drawing and thinks about how he would sketch the shape of Seungmin’s jaw.
🎥 🎞
Seungmin can’t handle his liquor.
The first time they drink together is at his parents’ restaurant. It’s after hours, Seungmin comes over right after his late shift. He’s still in his work clothes, a loose white button up, collar stained with red wine and sleeve stained with an ambiguous orange syrup. It’s tucked into a pair of tight jeans. It’s unfair how good Seungmin looks after a shift, greasy hair pushed back and thighs threatening to burst out of his jeans.
The restaurant is empty, save for Minho’s mother tinkering around in the kitchen. She likes to test out new recipes when everyone else has gone home. She’s more than happy to have Seungmin around as a taste tester for the new items.
The lights are dimmed, the room coming to life under the neon signs that adorn the walls. Minho thinks the interior design for the restaurant is tacky, clearly an attempt at baiting people to post about it on Instagram, but his mother always rolls his eyes when he tells her that.
“I think it’s nice,” Seungmin says, cheeks flushed as he shakily pours himself another soju shot, “Pretty.”
He’s talking about the restaurant, but his eyes remain fixed on Minho across from him.
“I’m glad you think that, Seungmin-ah,” Minho’s mother says, placing a new dish in between them and taking the finished plate of dumplings. She cuts a scowl Minho’s way, “All this one does is complain.”
Seungmin laughs, smooth and honey-like, it fills Minho with warmth. The glow of neon lights paints him in an array of different colours. “Oh, I’m well aware that hyung is allergic to compliments. I’m more than happy to praise your delicious food, auntie.”
Minho’s mother melts, reaching over and pinching his cheek. “Ah, you’re so sweet, how did my ungrateful son find someone as lovely as you?”
“Hey!” Minho scowls, “Don’t be fooled, he’s a demon.”
Under the table, Seungmin kicks his shin, the sweet smile on his face unfaltering. He blinks innocently when Minho glares at him.
“Enjoy your food, boys,” his mother says, “It’s a new squid dish I want to add to the menu, the squid is fresh, Minho’s appa caught it this morning.”
“Looks amazing,” Seungmin says, picking up his chopsticks, “Thank you for the food, auntie.”
“No worries, sweetheart,” his mother replies, ruffling Seungmin’s hair. He looks pleased, but there’s a distant sadness to his expression. “Let me know if you want more soju.”
“I think we need to start cutting Seungmin off,” Minho says, Seungmin makes an alarmed sound around his mouthful of food. He protectively crowds the remaining soju bottles into his arms. Minho’s mother laughs, adding another bottle to the table like the terrible influence she is before disappearing back into the kitchen.
When she’s gone, Minho kicks Seungmin back. The toe of his boot digging into Seungmin’s shin, he yelps in response.
“You’re such a kiss ass,” Munho grumbles. Seungmin’s legs find his again under the table, Minho braces himself for another kick, but Seungmin locks their ankles together instead.
He smiles, “Mothers just love me, it’s part of my charm.”
“What charm?” Minho mutters miserably, pouring Seungmin another shot before pouring himself one.
Seungmin giggles, “I thought I was getting cut off.”
“I’ll make an exception just this once.”
They clink their glasses together and throw their heads back to the take the shot. Minho’s lost count of how many they’ve done, so it goes down easily, barely feeling the burn. He puts the glass down and catches the way Seungmin’s face curls up, lemon-sour at the taste. Lips liquor-wet and red flush spreading across his cheeks, his movements are sloppy as he puts the glass back down. He rests his cheek in his palm like his head is too heavy to keep up on its own.
“It’s cute that you can’t handle your liquor.”
Minho freezes, he didn’t mean to blurt that. He must be drunker than he thought.
Seungmin takes this the wrong way, narrowing his eyes and pointing accustarily at Minho. “I can handle my liquor just fine! I’m not even drunk,” he slurs out, like a liar, “You’re the one who is bright red right now.”
Minho frowns, “You’re drunker than me.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am not!” Seungmin yells, getting heated for literally no reason. “ You’re drunker than me.”
“No I’m not.”
“If you aren’t drunk then why are you feeling me up right now?” Seungmin asks pointedly.
Minho stiffens, realising that his foot has been trailing up Seungmin’s leg for the past five minutes. He rips his foot away and glares.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says, Seungmin laughs in his face, “Walk yourself home.”
He ends up carrying Seungmin home. He rides piggyback on Minho’s back with his arms wrapped around Minho’s neck and breathing loudly against his ear. Minho groans and stumbles across the uneven cobblestone path, taking the familiar route to Seungmin’s house. He’s drunk, but not as drunk as Seungmin, who is mumbling nonsense into his ear.
The yellow streetlights guide their way, Seungmin is warm and flush against his back and Minho has never known him as anything else. His legs are curled around Minho’s waist, every now and again, Minho will jostle Seungmin just to scare him (and to make sure he’s still alive).
“I think this proves you’re drunker than me,” Minho whispers into the quiet of the night.
Seungmin scoffs, sending sprays of spit into Minho’s hair, “No, you.”
Minho snorts, “Nice one, jagi.”
“Mmm,” he buries his head into Minho’s shoulder, rubbing his cheek against it like a clingy cat, “You never call me that.”
Minho’s heartbeat picks up, he hadn’t meant for the nickname to slip so easily.
“You usually just call me Kim Seungmin or an asshole.”
Seungmin is slipping in his hold, so he hoists him up and asks, “Do you want me to call you something else?”
He feels Seungmin’s gaze burn the side of his face. He stops walking and meets his eyes, pupils blown wide. He’s looking at Minho but he’s not really seeing, too drunk to process much of anything. But he still looks cute, eyes wet and round like a puppy.
“Hm, I wish you’d get more cr–crate–creative,” he fumbles over the word like it’s the hardest feat he’s ever encountered, “Sure, asshole is romantic, but it’s so unimaginative, you know? You can do better.”
Minho has no idea how he can drunkenly stutter over his words and still sound like a pretentious douche.
“How’s bane of my existence? ” Minho asks.
“Better,” Seungmin hums, “Not quite feeling it though.”
“Dickhead? Personal annoyance? My dearly detested?” he pauses, trying out the next nickname in tone that sounds too forced to be casual, “Baby?”
Seungmin’s eyes widen, he whispers, “What?”
“What do you think?” he asks, “Can I call you baby?”
Seungmin looks visibly caught off guard, which is what Minho was aiming for. He would feel smug if he weren’t so busy trying to get his heartrate back under control.
Seungmin recovers quickly, a brilliant smile growing over his face. Sunlight cutting through the dark midnight sky. “Sure, hyung, you can call me baby.”
And later, they clumsily stumble into Seungmin’s house, hushed giggles and gangly limbs, Minho telling Seungmin off for being loud when his grandmother is asleep. He drags Seungmin to the bed and deposits him on top of the blankets.
He makes a move to take off Seungmin’s tight jeans and hesitates. He won’t like waking up in his work clothes, but he’s more particular in the ways he’s touched. Minho withdraws his hands and moves to tug the blankets over Seungmin instead.
Seungmin’s being no help, a barely conscious mess of limbs and big brown eyes. He’s stares at Minho in the darkness, his hand curls around his wrist and he pulls Minho onto the bed.
“You’re not walking back,” he instructs, “You’re too drunk, stay the night.”
Minho isn’t going to object. He’s so exhausted that he knows he’ll end up passed out on the sidewalk if he tries to walk home. He slots himself next to Seungmin and pulls him into his arms. Seungmin lets out a happy little hum and snuggles closer to Minho.
Rest assured, Minho is only letting Seungmin get away with acting so cute because he’s also drunk. No other reason.
“Thank you for tonight, hyung,” Seungmin says, nosing along Minho’s jaw. His words are whispered between them like it’s a secret, “I had fun.”
“Don’t thank me for that,” Minho replies, “If anything you were doing my eomma a favour, she’s been dying to try her new dishes on a test subject.”
“Mm,” Seungmin hums, not really listening, he presses a soft kiss to Minho’s jaw. His breath smells like grape soju. “‘Was fun,’ he mumbles sleepily, pressing another kiss to Minho’s throat, “I like hanging out with you. I feel like a child.”
Minho blinks. Is that a compliment?
He gently pushes Seungmin back, “Go to sleep, you’re talking nonsense.”
Seungmin’s face scrunches up with adorable determination, he moves back into Minho’s space.
“No—listen—” he curls his fists into Minho’s shirt, making it wrinkle. “It’s not non—nonsense. It’s like this—I’ve felt like an adult since the day my parents died, I had to grow up too early and I was always taking care of myself. But now, you take care of me hyung. You carried me all the way home.”
Minho’s ears warm up. He’s unsure what to say. His brain feels fuzzy and he’s not even sure he’s comprehending every word coming out of Seungmin’s mouth. This is not a conversation they should be having when they’re wasted out of their fucking minds.
Especially because Minho really wants to remember this moment. He hopes his brain is kind to him in the morning.
“I feel like I can be a kid with you,” he continues, determined to finish his spiel despite his eyes growing heavy and words slurring, “I can just be stupid and silly and not worry about anything.”
Overcome with a surge of—of something and unable to put it into words, Minho presses a kiss to Seungmin’s forehead.
“Go to bed, Seungmin-ah.”
Seungmin’s eyes flutter shut, “You said you would call me baby.”
Minho presses another kiss to the crown of his head. “Goodnight, baby.”
Sleep finds them quickly after that.
🎥 🎞
It’s Seungmin’s idea to celebrate their 100 day anniversary.
“Come on, hyung,” he whines, tugging at Minho’s sleeve as they walk to the cafe together. Minho woke up early to walk Seungmin to work because he was promised a free coffee. “You promised.”
Minho frowns, shaking Seungmin off him, “I said we can get dinner, I didn’t sign up for cherry blossoms. ”
“It’ll be romantic,” Seungmin says, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together, “We can go late at night so it’ll be empty, just the two of us. I want to make it special.”
“What’s so special about dying flowers?” Minho asks.
Seungmin stops short, forcing them to a halt. He looks upset, Minho’s gone and said the wrong thing again.
“You never want to do anything romantic,” he says.
“I told you,” Minho replies, wrinkling his nose, “That’s not who I am.”
“But it’s who I am,” Seungmin loosens his grip to drop their hands, but Minho doesn’t let him go easily. He tightens his hold on Seungmin. He’s always trying to run away from tense conversations. Seungmin lets out a frustrated sigh and accuses, “Would you have even remembered our anniversary if I didn’t mention it?”
Minho’s frown deepens. What kind of question is that? Of course he knew their 100 days was coming up. He has it marked on his calendar.
Minho swallows down his annoyance and steps forward. Hand on Seungmin’s cheek, he smoothens the angry lines around his scowl.
“If it’s important to you, I’ll go see the stupid flowers,” he says, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Seungmin’s lips. He pulls back and finds Seungmin’s lips cherry pink.
The gesture seems to placate him, if only briefly. He keeps their foreheads pressed together, tiny smile playing on his lips. “Thanks, hyung.”
Minho sighs despairingly, adding an air of dramaticness that makes Seungmin giggle. “The things I do for you.”
Seungmin playfully nips at his bottom lip, nose grazing lightly against Minho’s.
“Hyung must like me so much,” he teases, narrowly dodging when Minho tries to smack him.
Minho really must like Seungmin, because he ends up planning the entire date. Their hundred days falls at the end of the season, just on the edge of summer, so there isn’t really much to see. Minho scopes out a park for them anyway, one by the lake because Seungmin may not like swimming but he likes being near water.
He teaches himself how to make kimchi jiggae. Which ends up being easier than he expects it to be, so he also prepares an array of side dishes for the day. His parents go on picnics a lot and he used to join them when he was younger. He digs out their mat and dusty picnic basket to take out on the day. Might as well follow tradition.
In short, Minho prepares the hell out of this anniversary date.
When the day finally comes, Seungmin calls and cancels.
Minho is midway through filling a container with kimchi, phone balanced between his shoulder and ear, he freezes. “What?”
“I’m sorry, hyung,” Seungmin says, and he really does sound sorry, “Work called me in today.”
Minho frowns, “I thought you took a day off.”
“I did,” there’s rustling on the other side, like Seungmin is getting ready, “But they need extra staff and the extra money won’t hurt.”
“Can’t you ask someone else to cover it?” Minho says, “You’ve been working nonstop all week, it’s supposed to be your day off.”
Seungmin clicks his tongue, “Well, I’m not going to say no to a shift.”
“Can you?”
“What?”
“Can you say no? Will they fire you if you don’t?”
“Well…they won’t fire me. They’ll just ask someone else.”
“So say no!”
Seungmin sighs, “Hyung—”
“I’ve barely seen you all week,” Minho says, and he’s not whining. He’s not. This isn’t him being clingy, he’s simply worried for Seungmin’s health. “You’re always working. One day off won’t hurt.”
Seungmin is quiet for a long time. Minho has to check to see he’s still on the line.
“We can hang out after my shift,” he says quietly.
Minho huffs. Yeah, right. His bartending shifts finish at midnight on a good day.
“Whatever,” Minho snaps, “I’m not the one who wanted to see the stupid flowers anyway. It was your idea.”
“Are you seriously mad about this?” Seungmin asks, voice rising to match Minho’s tone, “I’m saving up for college, hyung, so we can go together , remember? I’m going to take all the shifts I can get.”
“I’m not mad about you working,” Minho says, “I’m mad that you’re working today. When you’re the one who made a big deal about our 100 days in the first place. I’m mad that you never take breaks, I’m mad that you’re working yourself to the bone. I’m mad that I’ve barely seen my own boyfriend all break!”
Seungmin falls quiet again, it barely last a second before he snaps, “I can’t fucking afford to take breaks. Sorry I thought my boyfriend would be a little understanding towards my situation.”
The line goes dead. Seungmin hung up.
Minho stares helplessly at his phone, dread coiling in his gut.
Okay, he officially feels miserable.
🎥 🎞
He spends the whole day letting himself feel miserable. He packs away all the food, labels it DONT EAT! and shoves it to the back of the fridge. He can dig into the food later when he’s alone on his anniversary night and feeling sorry for himself.
He shouldn’t even care this much. Minho isn’t the type of person to care about anniversaries—at least, he never thought he was. Seungmin was the one who wanted this. He didn’t have to plan out such a romantic and elaborate date. He’s not even a romantic person like that. But he still did. For Seungmin.
Whatever. He doesn’t even care.
Fifteen minutes to midnight, a knock comes to Minho’s window.
Minho is sulking over his latest drawing. He’s sitting at his desk and restarting his sketch for the fourth time because he just can’t seem to get it right. He startles when something knocks on his window and whirls around in his chair.
Kim Seungmin and his stupid puppydog eyes waves sheepishly from the other side of the window. He’s such a dumbass. Minho’s room is on the second storey.
Minho has half a mind to leave him out there, let him suffer a little, but he decides against it. He sighs and stands, cracking his window open.
“How’d you get up here?”
Seungmin bites his lip sheepishly, he points to the ladder leaning against the rooftop. “Um. Your neighbour had a ladder in their backyard, so I just. Swiped it.”
“Huh,” Minho says, mildly impressed, “Baby’s first crime.”
Seungmin flushes red. “Shut up. Can I come in?”
“You know we have a front door.”
“I didn’t want to wake up your parents. Please, can I come in?”
“I’m still mad at you.”
“I’m mad at you too,” Seungmin shoots back, expression hardening into what he probably thinks is a menacing glare, “But I knew you’d be too prideful to reach out first. So here I am.”
Minho bristles, offended. “I am not—”
Seungmin, deciding he’s had enough, shoves Minho aside and lets himself inside. With all the grace and delicacy of a steamroller, he tumbles into Minho’s room and falls ass first onto the floor. Minho cackles, the asshole deserves it.
“Your efforts were pointless, because that definitely woke my parents up,” Minho points out as a disgruntled Seungmin pulls himself to his feet, “Their room is directly under mine.”
“That’s the last time I try anything romantic,” Seungmin mutters, straightening his clothes. He’s wearing an worn out coat over his work uniform, reminding Minho why he’s so pissed in the first place.
He sours, “Funny. Because coincidentally today is the last time I plan anything romantic too.”
Seungmin sighs, “So we’re getting right into it, then?”
Minho takes a seat on his bed, crossing his arms. “There’s nothing to get into.”
“God,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “You’re so annoying. You’re hard-headed and refuse to listen to reason when things don’t go your way.”
Minho flies up, jabbing Seungmin in the shoulder. Annoyance prickles at him, did Seungmin just come here to make things worse?
“You. Are.” He grits out, poking him to enunciate each word. “Exactly. The fucking same.”
Seungmin squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a heavy exhale. When he speaks again, his words are less clipped, touched with exhaustion.
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“It seems like you did.”
“Hyung,” Seungmin wraps his hand around Minho’s wrist, still pointed at him, and links their fingers together instead. Minho doesn’t know why he lets him do it, he doesn’t know why he lets Seungmin do anything. “I’m sorry for ditching you on our 100 days.”
He certainly looks sorry, eyes red-rimmed, either from exhaustion or crying, Minho doesn’t know. He looks too small in his big coat, a stark contrast to the Seungmin he knows that’s usually larger than life.
“I—” Minho hates being angry at him. It’s exhausting. “Okay.”
Seungmin raises an eyebrow, “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” Minho says, not meeting Seungmin’s eyes. He feels embarrassed about getting so worked up in the first place, they’ll have alot more anniversaries to celebrate together and it won’t be a big deal in the long run. “It’s okay. We can see the cherry blossoms next year.”
Seungmin’s eyes widen in surprise at the promise of another year together, he smiles softly.
“Right, okay,” Seungmin says, “And…don’t you have something to apologise for too?”
Minho feels ashamed all over again, the things he said to Seungmin over the phone flooding back to him.
“I–” his words lodge in his throat. This is so embarrassing. “I’m sorry for blowing up at you. Or whatever. I guess.”
Seungmin snorts. Minho glares at him.
He presses a kiss to Minho’s fingers. “I know you don’t understand why I need to work so much, and I know you’re worried about me. But this is just something you’re going to have to deal with because it won’t change.”
Minho swallows, squeezing Seungmin’s hand. How can he just deal with the fact that Seungmin will overwork himself to the bone? How can he just watch that happen?
He doesn’t know if he can do that, but he promises to anyway. Because he wants them to be okay again.
Minho nods and breathes out, “Okay. I’m sorry.”
He feels Seungmin’s smile against his fingers, shoulders relaxing with relief.
“Great,” he says cheerfully, dropping their hands. “I have a surprise for you. For our 100 days.”
Minho raises an eyebrow. Seungmin digs his hands into his coat pockets and pulls out what looks like handfuls of pink and white petals.
“Happy 100 days!” he cheers, throwing the petals up in the air so they float down all around them.
Minho blinks.
Seungmin grins.
“Was the surprise…making a mess of my floor?”
Seungmin ignores this, “There’s a park near work with a few cherry blossom trees, I figured since we couldn’t go see them, I would bring the cherry blossoms to you.”
Minho looks at the mess on his floor, the carpet is covered in pink petals. He smiles.
“Cute,” he says, “The food I made is still in the fridge. I’ll bring it up and it can be like a real picnic?”
“I’d love that,” Seungmin says, “I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”
Minho rolls his eyes, “Dumbass.”
He stands and leaves for the kitchen, Seungnmin gets comfortable on his bed without needing invitation. They’re okay.
🎥 🎞
They hang out in silence a lot.
There aren't many people that Minho can just be quiet with. His best friend is Jisung, for fucks sake, Minho loves the kid but he’s also also allergic to shutting the fuck up. Seungmin, on the other hand, likes the silences as much as Minho does. He revels in them. They’ll hang out in the same room and do their own thing, sit next to each other on the bus with Seungmin resting his head on Minho’s shoulder, walk hand in hand down the street and not say a single word to each other.
Seungmin is especially quiet when he’s upset. He never talks about what bothers him. The new intake of testosterone shots start making him really emotional. He tells Minho that he feels sad but the hormones physically stop him from crying. Minho imagines it must be nice to not cry, he hates crying. But Seungmin says it feels worse, because his body doesn’t offer him an outlet for his feelings. On days like this, Seungmin never wants to talk. They lay together in Minho’s bed, Seungmin using his stomach as a pillow, arms curling around Minho’s waist. They keep the lights off and bury under more blankets than necessary. Neither of them need words to comfort each other, just being there is enough.
Minho thinks this is the kind of silence that only comes when two people completely understand each other.
But there are still times where he doesn’t understand Seungmin.
Like right now:
“What if I cheated on you?” Seungmin asks casually over the phone. Minho trips over his own feet, books tumbling loudly onto the library table. A few heads turn his way, one person glares, Minho glares back and takes his seat.
“What?” he snaps into his phone, “Kim Seungmin, we’ve been at college for three months . This is not the time for you to decide to have a hoe phase.”
“ Hypothetically speaking ,” Seungmin replies, and Minho can imagine him rolling his eyes like he’s not asking the most ridicolous question in the world, “I’m not actually going to cheat on you hyung, I’m just wondering what you would do if I did.”
“They’ll never find your body,” Minho says easily, “My family is rich you know, they have connections.”
“Somehow I think hospo industry connections won’t help you much in a murder case.”
“That’s what you think,” Minho replies ominously, smiling to himself when it makes Seungmin giggle. “Why the sudden question?”
“Hyunjin wants me to set me up on a blind date,” Seungmin says, sounding way too pleased about this news. “She thinks I’ll hit it off with one of her sunbaes.”
Ah, of course Hwang Hyunjin is the cause of this.
“And you…agreed?” Minho asks doubtedly.
Seungmin scoffs, “Of course not, hyung, I told her I have a boyfriend.”
“Damn, you do?” Minho teases, “That’s news to me.”
“Oh, guess I don’t. I’ll just tell Hyunjin I can go on the date, then.”
“Go ahead,” Minho says, “See if I care.”
Seungmin hums, if Minho closes his eyes, he can imagine the scheming face Seungmin is making. “Hyunjin really talked this guy up, you know. He’s a dancer and really tall. ”
“He sounds like an asshole.”
“I guess that’s my type.”
Minho frowns, hard. “Fine. Go on the stupid date. Just don’t be surprised if Mr. Tall Dancer mysteriously goes missing before that.”
Seungmin giggles, “Hyung is cute when he’s jealous,” he coos before hanging up.
Minho scowls at his phone.
Two minutes later, he gets a text notification.
Kim Seungmin:
i have a break at 2. meet me for lunch?
artists are more my type anyway <3
🎥 🎞
The hypothetical questions become an ongoing thing.
Most of the time, they’re really stupid.
“Hyung,” Seungmin says, interrupting Minho from reading aloud. They’re at the park near campus, it’s become a regular meet up spot for the two of them. A halfway point between their two buildings. They’re sitting under a tree, Seungmin’s head resting in Minho’s lap while Minho reads to him.
Seungmin’s been into reading horror lately, naturally, he’s making it Minho’s problem.
“Would you still date me if I was a ghost?”
Minho doesn’t miss a beat. “No.”
“ What?” Seungmin screeches, offended. “Why not?”
“I’m not dating a ghost. Are you kidding? We can’t even touch.”
“Oh, so touching me is the only reason you’re dating me?” Seungmin asks, sitting up from Minho’s thigh to glare at him.
Minho unconsciously reaches for him again, Seungmin moves out of the way and raises his eyebrow, as if that proves his point.
“I literally didn’t say that,” Minho says, “Would you even date me if you were a ghost? Don’t they have to passover to the other side or some shit.”
“I would stay and date you,” Seungmin says, crossing his arms, “Because I’m loyal like that.”
Minho rolls his eyes, this is such a pointless argument.
“I’m still not dating a ghost,” Minho says stubbornly, “That’s weird. I’ll just have to bring you back to life.”
“So you’d rather date a corpse?” Seungmin asks incredulously, “That’s weirder!”
“You won’t be a corpse! You’ll be alive.”
“Would you be able to kiss me knowing I was once a corpse?”
Minho considers this, tilting his head. “Good point. I struggle enough having to kiss you now.”
“Hey!”
Minho laughs, he pulls a scowling Seungmin back into his arms. He gently guides Seungmin back to laying on his lap, he complies easily, irritation fading away.
“I think I can settle for you resurrecting me,” Seungmin says, “I’ll be like Frankenstein’s monster. Minho’s Monster.”
Minho snorts, “That’s a scarily accurate description of you, actually.”
Seungmin pinches his thigh, “Get back to reading.”
“ You’re the one who interrupted,” Minho points out with a frustrated huff. He picks up the book and keeps reading, anyway.
They’re making out in Minho’s dorm. It’s a rare, stars-aligning moment where Minho’s roommate is out for the night and Seungmin isn’t working. He takes full advantage of it by pulling Seungmin on top of him and kissing the life out of him. He’s straddling Minho’s lap, pushing him back against the headboard while they kiss. The heat between them builds slowly, Seungmin steals the air out of Minho’s lungs with every kiss.
Just when he slips his hand under Seungmin’s shirt, hands brushing over his hot skin, Seungmin pulls back.
“So like, hypothetically speaking,” Seungmin begins, lips spit-slicked and bright red.
Minho groans, dropping his head back against the bedframe. “Really? Right now?”
“Just listen,” Seungmin insists, hands grappling onto Minho’s shoulders. He squirms to settle himself properly in Minho’s lap, only making his situation worsen. There’s a determined look in his eye. Minho is already dreading the question. “What if I moved overseas?”
Minho raises an eyebrow, his hands still ever-so-slightly around Seungmin’s waist.
“Why would you do that?”
Seungmin shrugs, “What if I get a job after graduation?”
“We’re first years,” he answers blankly, “Why are you thinking that far ahead?”
Seungmin’s face morphs into a frown, “You don’t think we’ll be together that long?”
Minho blinks. Once, twice. “Literally when did I say that?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I don’t know,” Minho sighs, fidgeting with the hem of Seungmin’s shirt, “I’ll move with you.”
Seungmin’s eyes widen in surprise, “Really?”
“Yeah?” Minho says, like it should be obvious. Shouldn’t it be that obvious? “There’s nothing keeping me here. I can create art anywhere I go, so I’ll just follow you.”
Seungmin’s eyes soften, impossibly warm, it makes a blush rise up Minho’s neck. He’s looking at Minho like he’s seeing him for the first time. Jaw slacked, lips parted like his breath is hitched. Minho scratches the back of his neck nervously.
“What?” he snaps. Feeling entirely too seen for his liking.
Seungmin smiles, soft and warm, the first sunrays after a withering storm. He presses a short kiss to Minho’s lips.
“Hyung must like me so much!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Minho says with an eyeroll, “Don’t piss your pants over it.”
Seungmin’s grin doesn’t turn any less fond, he curls his hands around Minho’s nape and pulls him in for a searing kiss.
Because Seungmin is a dumbass who can’t take care of himself, he falls sick during finals season. And Minho is left taking care of him. He skips class to spend all day by Seungmin’s side (Not that he’s missing anything, the first thing he learned about college art is how pointless it is. He could’ve learned half the theory from Youtube for free. And he’s not a fan of the professors criticisms of his work either). He makes Seungmin soup and forces him to eat it, despite him bitching and moaning about how much he hates soup. And it’s a struggle in it’s self to stop Seungmin from escaping his room to go to class. Minho considers tying him down to the bed.
Honestly, it’s like taking care of a child.
After a particularly bad coughing fit, Seungmin links his clammy hands with Minho and says, “Hyung, what if I died right now?”
Minho laughs in his face. “You literally have the common cold.”
“No. Like, hypothetically speaking, what if this was my final moment?”
“Are you a weak little Victorian boy?” he goads, “Why would you die from a cold?”
Seungmin manages muster up a glare, despite being fever-ridden and exhausted. Which is an impressive feat on its own.
He ignores Minho and barrels on with his dramatic spiel. “Would you grieve me? Will you promise to never love anyone else again? Will you walk around wearing a black veil for the rest of your life?”
Minho sighs, he’s so fucking tired of this dude. He swaps out the cold compress on Seungmin’s forehead for a fresh one.
“Don’t ask me stupid questions.”
It’s eleven months into dating when Seungmin asks, “What if we broke up?”
This catches Minho off-guard. It’s late at night, they’re hanging out after Seungmin’s shift. They found a random barbecue place and decided to have a late dinner, an unopened bottle of soju between them and sizzling meat.
“What?”
Seungmin must feel Minho go completely rigid from where their hands are connected. He squeezes reassuringly.
“Hypothetically speaking,” he adds softly.
Minho pulls his hand away from Seungmin’s touch, chest stuttering with a muted panic. Why would Seungmin ask him that?
“I just mean,” Seungmin tries, “We’ll break up eventually right? All relationships end, it’s inevitable.”
Minho’s eyebrows pinch together. “My parents have been together for thirty years.”
The corners of Seungmin’s mouth twitch, “You want to be with me for thirty years, hyung?”
“What?” Minho snaps, straightening up, “I didn’t say that.” He can already feel his ears growing warm, “I’m just saying, not all relationships end. Some of them last.”
“What if we don’t?” Seungmin asks.
“We will.”
Seungmin chews on his bottom lip, a faraway look in his eye. There’s something on his mind, but all he’s doing is talking around it. Like he always does. He never actually says what he’s thinking.
“What if I left you?”
Minho falls quiet, the restaurant bustles on around them, the meat sizzles.
“Then…I’ll never want to see you again.”
“That’s harsh,” Seungmin says. He doesn’t sound hurt, or surprised. He just sounds analytical, like he’s observing the conversation as a third party.
Minho shrugs, “If you leave me, then I’d want you out of my life permanently.”
“What if I come find you?”
Minho picks up the tongs and flips the meat over. His heart feels like it might explode, too big for his body. Too big for this conversation.
“I’ll spray water on you,” he says, “And salt.” he looks up and forces a teasing grin, “That’s how you get rid of demons.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, “You’re so immature.”
“You’re the one asking me stupid questions.”
“I don’t think I could handle never seeing you again,” Seungmin admits, voice wavering just the slightest bit, “It would hurt too much.”
Minho shrugs, it’s a forced, awkward movement. He meets Seungmin’s eyes with a fierce look. “So don’t leave me.”
🎥 🎞
Minho buys Seungmin a polaroid camera for their one year anniversary.
Seungmin’s gotten more comfortable with photography and filmography. He joined the college film club—where he met Hwang Hyunjin, the bane of Minho’s existence, but more on that later—and has started taking his dad’s camera everywhere with him. He takes pictures of anything and everything. The birch trees that line the campus courtyard, the sunset when they walk back to the dorms together after an evening class, their half-eaten lunchboxes sitting in the grass, a variation of birds, stray cats and dogs that he always stops to pet.
Mostly, he takes pictures of Minho. Seungmin is a pretty impressive photographer, but he will always take the most unflattering pictures of Minho. Because he’s a dickhead like that. Minho scowling at him, shovelling rice in his mouth or asleep under the sun with drool hanging from his open mouth.
He’s been talking about wanting a polaroid camera for months now.
Seungmin rarely ever lets himself buy anything he wants. He spends all his time browsing through different sneaker websites and ogling their new releases, but wears the same ratty ones everyday. He illegally downloads all the textbooks he needs for class and stubbornly refused to buy a new laptop until it completely crashed a week before exam season.
Minho figured Seungmin can use some nice things in his life, so he buys him a polaroid camera. In pastel blue because it reminds him of the sky, which inexplicably, reminds him of Seungmin.
Seungmin stares at the paper bag Minho holds out for him, “I thought we weren’t doing presents.”
“We’re not,” Minho says, shaking the bag, “It’s full of snakes.”
“Funny,” Seungmin says, he takes the bag but hesitates to open it. He gives Minho an apologetic look, “I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s fine,” Minho is growing impatient, he’s been antsy all morning waiting for Seungmin’s reaction. “Just open it.”
“Okay, okay,” he opens the bag, eyes widening when he takes out the box. He turns it over in his hands with an expression of disbelief, his eyes meet Minho’s and they’re shining. “I can’t accept this.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“No, seriously hyung,” Seungmin says, putting the camera back into the bag. “It’s too expensive.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Minho insists, “You’ve wanted this camera for months, just take it.”
“I…” Seungmin chews on his bottom lip, conflict brimming in his eyes. He repeats, “I can’t accept this.”
He shoves the bag back into Minho’s hands. “Sorry. I appreciate the gesture—but—I can’t just let you spend money on me like this.”
Minho frowns, “Why are you being so stubborn? It’s a gift. Take it.”
Really, Minho should’ve expected this. Seungmin always gets touchy about money. He hesitates when Minho tries to pay for his food, rarely accepts gifts and shuts down when Minho offers to buy things for him.
But still, this is an anniversary gift, Minho thought it would be the exception.
“I can’t just—you don’t have to buy things for me,” Seungmin says, “I’ve been saving up for this camera, it’s okay.”
“Well now you don’t have to,” Minho says, “You can put that money towards something else.”
Seungmin lets out a frustrated huff, “You’re not getting it hyung.”
“So explain it to me.”
“It makes me feel like a charity case when you do this.”
“That’s—” Minho blinks, “The stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“See, you still don’t get it,” Seungmin says, “I don’t like when you buy things for me—it—it makes me feel inferior to you.”
“So this is about your pride.”
Seungmin makes a frustrated sound, running a hand through his hair and messing it up.
Minho sighs, they can’t fight on another anniversary.
“You’re not a charity case, Kim Seungmin, you’re my boyfriend.”
“I know that,” Seungmin grits out, “Like logically, I know that. I can’t help how I feel.”
“It’s okay to accept nice things,” Minho says, holding the bag out again, “It wasn’t even that expensive, just take it.”
Seungmin laughs wetly, bitter and sarcastic, “Even you saying that makes me feel worse. I have to spend months saving up for a purchase that’s no big deal to you.”
Minho frowns, he doesn’t understand. And he doesn’t like not understanding things.
“I can return the camera,” Minho offers quietly, feeling defeated for some reason.
Seungmin nods, offering Minho a guilty half-smile. He got his braces off ages ago, but he still hasn’t shaken the habit of smiling close-lipped.
“I’m sorry, hyung,” he says a little sadly.
Minho shakes his head, linking his free hand with Seungmin’s. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of our day.”
🎥 🎞
The first time Seungmin breaks up with him, it’s because of Hwang Hyunjin.
Hwang Hyunjin, Seungmin’s first friend in college. She took one look at Seungmin and decided that she would stick by him like a leech. She’s a fine arts major like Minho, but her specialty is with oil paints and landscapes. She has shiny blonde hair, cropped to her chin and usually accessorised with a sleek black headband. She’s always impeccably dressed, which Minho thinks is insane for a college student. She’ll turn up to an 8:00am lecture dressed to the nines in a plaid skirt and knee-high boots.
Minho’s never had a direct conversation with her, but he doesn’t like her very much.
Minho wakes up early on a Monday morning to get him and Seungmin coffees. Seungmin has Sunday night shifts at the bar and an 8:00am class. A terrible combination that leads to him being grouchy and coffee-less in the mornings. Minho knows, he gets the flood of texts complaining about it.
It becomes part of his morning routine to grab them both coffees before meeting Seungmin after his class. It gives them a five minute slot where Minho can hand Seungmin his coffee, remind him to eat lunch and rush off to his own class. It’s not a long time, but it’s enough for Minho.
This morning, however, he finds Seungmin with Hyunjin. Which is also not out of the blue. Seungmin is equally obsessed with Hyunjin as she is with him. The two of them are like a pair of Siamese twins. Sitting together on a bench while they watch something on Hyunjin’s phone, probably an episode of the latest drama Hyunjin got Seungmin hooked on.
Seungmin notices Minho approaching, somehow attuned to his movements. He looks up from the phone screen and brightens up, “Hyung!”
“Hey, you,” Minho greets.
Hyunjin looks up from her phone, giving Minho a cautious onceover. Minho raises an eyebrow at her, trying to look as menacing as possible, she makes a frightened prey-animal noise and looks down at her phone. He looks back at Seungmin.
“Here,” he says, shoving the iced Americano into Seungmin’s hands, “I asked the barista for extra rat poison.”
“Aw, jagi,” Seungmin coos, “You shouldn’t have.”
Minho rolls his eyes, “I told Jisung I’ll meet him for lunch but don’t forget to eat.”
Seungmin takes a long sip from his coffee, the life returning to his eyes.
“Mmhmm,” he hums in acknowledgement around his straw, “See you tonight?”
“I guess.”
He turns on his heel to walk away, before he’s out of earshot, he hears Hyunjin’s judgemental voice ask:
“That was your boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Seungmin answers in a sickeningly fond tone, “He’s been plotting my murder for two years.”
Minho smiles to himself as he walks away.
One year and four months into dating is when it happens.
“Hyunjin thinks we’re not good together.”
He stares at Seungmin, standing at the doorway of Minho’s dormroom with his backpack slinging off his shoulders. He takes off his shoes and enters the room, meeting Minho at his desk where he’s working on a sketch.
“The fuck does Hyunjin know?” Minho grumbles.
“She’s kind of a relationship expert,” Seungmin says, he takes a seat on Minho’s desk so he’s looking down on him.
Minho raises an eyebrow, somehow, he highly doubts that. “Has she ever been in one?”
“Well…no,” Seungmin replies, “But she watches a lot of dramas.”
“God, you two are like dumb and dumber,” Minho says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t have time for this, I have a portfolio due.”
“She just—” Suengmin starts hastily, desperate not to drop the subject, “She says we don’t act like a couple. We don’t even act like we like each other.”
Minho frowns, who cares how they look to other people?
“She doesn’t understand us,” Minho says, his hand finds Seungmin’s knee. “No one knows the way we like each other.”
Seungmin looks at him, “Do you, though?”
“What?”
“Do you like me?”
Minho blinks. Shouldn’t it be glaringly obvious by now?
“What kind of question is that?”
Seungmin shrugs, “You never say that you do.”
“Well—” there’s a stone lodged in Minho’s throat, one that grows with his love for Seungmin. It’s hard to talk about, maybe if he loved Seungmin any less, he would be able to. “You’re an idiot if you think I don’t.”
Seungmin never lets it show when he’s hurt, but Minho’s learned to read it. Fists curling and jaw clenched, eyes growing watery but never shedding any tears.
“Oh, yeah?” Seungmin challenges, bracing himself for a fight that Minho didn’t realise they were having. “What do you even like about me?”
Minho feels his skin grow warm. He’s embarrassed for some reason.
His first instinct is to turn it into a joke, spitting out a ‘who says I like you?’ or ‘nothing’. But the look on Seungmin’s face stops him.
“What do you want from me, Seungmin-ah?” Minho asks, “A love poem? I can’t write those.”
“No, but some affirmation would be nice,” Seungmin snaps.
“I—” I make you food, I buy you coffee, I walk you to class and hold you while you sleep. Shouldn’t that be enough? “This is such a stupid argument.”
Seungmin’s expression turns stony, emotionless. “Maybe Hyunjin had a point.”
Minho’s gaze snaps to meet Seungmin, caught by surprise. “You don’t think we’re good for each other?”
“I don’t know…” Seungmin’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. It’s such a terrible habit, he’s going to chew it raw one of these days. “We’re weird, aren’t we? We’ve been dating since high school, aren’t you getting tired of me?”
“Weird isn’t bad,” Minho defends.
Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Seungmin’s expression stays stormy.
“I think we should break up,” Seungmin says.
Minho stares. Chest stuttering in a way that’s almost painful.
Voice small, he asks, “What?”
“Just,” Seungmin avoids his eyes, fidgeting with his own fingers, Minho can feel the nervous energy radiating off him. He’s been thinking about this for a while, then. “Maybe a break will be good for us, we’re in college, right? That’s the time for experimenting. You deserve to find someone you actually like.”
Minho stands suddenly from his chair. “You don’t mean that.”
Seungmin’s gaze is determined, the same stubborn look he gets when he’s up late studying and insisting that he can make it just another hour. “I do, hyung.”
“You’re getting in your own head,” Minho says helplessly, he reaches for Seungmin but he flinches away. Minho’s hand hangs awkwardly between them. “You’re overthinking.We can’t break up, we’re us. ”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Seungmin says. He stands from the desk, stepping back from Minho’s space.
“I’m sorry, hyung,” he says. He picks up his bag and heads for the door. Minho wants to say something but the lump in his throat turns sharp, digging into the walls and stealing his voice. He can only watch as Seungmin walks away. “See you around.”
Yeah, this is definitely Hwang Hyunjin’s fault.
“Fuck Hwang Hyunjin,” Jisung slurs out, clinking his soju glass with Minho before they both take a shot. “I’ve never liked her.”
Minho rolls his eyes, head heavy with how much he’s already had. “Don’t pretend you hate her because of me. You hate her because she’s pretty and humiliated you during dance team auditions.”
Jisung slams his palm on the table, making Minho jump. This is why he can’t drink with Jisung. They’re always the loudest table in the bar, despite there only being two of them.
“She didn’t humiliate me,” he insists, cheeks flushed adorably. Minho resists the urge to lean over and squeeze them. “I didn’t even want to join the stupid dance team.”
“Oh?” Minho teases, “Is that why you cried when you didn’t get in?”
Jisung glares, it has very little effect. “I hate you.”
“So does Seungmin, apparently,” Minho mutters darkly.
Jisung’s expression softens, he pours Minho another shot. He needs something stronger than soju, he needs horse tranquilliser, but he accept the shot anyway.
“Seungmin will come around,” Jisung offers, “You guys are inseparable.”
“I don’t know,” Minho whines, dropping his head to the table. It’s sticky and gross and Seungmin would tell him off for caring so little about his skin. It’s been two days since they broke up. “He seemed so serious.”
Jisung shakes his head, “You guys have lasted this long, there’s no way he’ll just throw that all away.”
Jisung sounds so sure of himself. So sure about them. He’s the only one who witnessed Seungmin and Minho from the very beginning. He was with them through the documentary, through their fights and first dates. Jisung was the first person Minho went to after he kissed Seungmin. He ran all the way to Jisung’s classroom and made up an excuse to pull him out of class, just so he can relay the news.
If Jisung believes in them, maybe Minho should too.
“Thanks for saying that, Jisungie,” he says, propping his chin up so he can look at the other boy. “Maybe he’ll come around after he realises Hyunjin isn’t the word of God.”
Jisung’s expression sours immediately. At least his best friend understands his irrational dislike for Hyunjin, even if their reasons are completely unrelated.
“You know she stopped by the studio yesterday just to flirt with Changbin hyung? In front of my salad!” Jisung’s complains, words unceremoniously crashing into each other, “She laughed at everything he said and kept feeling up his arms. She even made direct eye contact with me when she called him a good rapper. Gah. I hate her.”
Minho snorts. He wonders if this is how he sounded during his early stages with Seungmin.
Jisung pauses, blinking slowly. “Wait, is it unfeminist to hate a girl?”
God, he’s an idiot.
“No?” Minho says, “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t it be more unfeminist to not hate her because she’s a girl?”
Jisung blinks at him. “That made zero fucking sense.”
Maybe they’re both idiots. Seungmin would know the answer.
He misses Seungmin.
Whatever, he pours another shot. He’s wants to drink until he forgets the name Kim Seungmin.
“To hating Hwang Hyunjin,” Minho offers, holding out his shot glass.
Jisung grins, clinking their glasses together. “To feminism!”
Their breakup lasts exactly one week.
Seungmin comes looking for him first, and he finds Minho where he always is: at their spot under the birch tree, leaning against the bark and reading a book.
“Hi,” Seungmin says, pulling Minho’s attention from the book. He’s standing infront of the sun, casting a shadow over Minho. He looks nervous.
Minho squints at him, sunlight forming a crown around his head. “Hi.”
“Can I sit?”
“Do what you want.”
Minho goes back to his book.
He hears Seungmin shuffle closer, but he doesn’t say anything. Minho rereads the same line five times before the silence gets unbearable.
“What do you want?” he snaps.
Seungmin doesn’t flinch at the volume of his voice. He never does.
“I’ve had the most miserable week of my life,” he admits.
“That sounds like a you problem.”
Seungmin pouts. That fucker. “How was your week?”
“Great,” Minho lies, “Hung out with Jisung, submitted my portfolio.”
Seungmin chews on his lip, “Yeah, I saw Jisung’s post of you passed out on the floor of your eomma’s restaurant.”
Minho’s ears turn red, “He posted that? I’m going to kill him.”
“You’re really shit at drinking, hyung,” Seungmin says, “I bet you passed out after one bottle.”
Minho glares at him, “Like you can talk.”
“Did you miss me this week, hyung?” Seungmin asks, blinking at him and looking like an attention-seeking puppy.
Minho swallows down his knee-jerk denial. “I kept accidentally buying two coffees before realising, and then I drank them both out of spite and made myself anxious for the whole day.”
Seungmin laughs, fond and quiet. He reaches over and holds Minho’s hand.
“I’m sorry for breaking up with you,” he says guiltily, playing with Minho’s fingers. “You’re right. I was getting in my own head.”
“I—” Minho’s heart might blow a whole through his chest, leaving his guts to spill out for Seungmin to see. “I missed you.”
Seungmin’s breath audibly catches, hope brimming in his eyes. “Really?”
Minho nods stiffly. Seungmin squeezes his hand. Hesitantly, he moves forward until his head is resting on Minho’s shoulder.
“Read to me?” he asks.
So Minho does.
🎥 🎞
The second time they break up, is two years and forty days in.
Minho gets into an exchange programme for an art school overseas. He didn’t want to apply in the first place, but his professor was insistent. It’s for an elite art school in Paris — a programme that specialises in architectural drawings. Minho’s favourite architect went to the same school. He applied, but didn’t delude himself into thinking he was good enough to get in.
He gets in.
“I knew you would,” Seungmin says, annoyingly smug. He pulls Minho in for a hug, chin hooked over his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”
Minho fills with warmth. He presses a kiss to Seungmin’s shoulder.
Seungmin pulls back with a brilliant smile. “Have you told your parents yet?”
Minho shakes his head, “No.”
“They’ll be so happy for you.”
Minho scratches the back of his head awkwardly, unable to take compliments at face value.
“Let’s celebrate, yeah?” Seungmin offers, “I have the night off work, we can get dinner at your parents place.”
Minho nods, “Yeah. That’ll be nice.”
It’s after dinner, on the empty bus back to Minho’s dorm, when Seungmin says:
“This means we should break up, right?”
They’re sharing earphones, Minho jolts so suddenly that his slips out of his ear.
“No? Why would we break up?”
“I mean,” Seungmin looks past him to the window, the houses and street lights turning into a blur around them. “Long distance never works out for couples, I’m just being logical here.”
“It’s a six month programme,” Minho says, “I’m not going forever.”
“The time difference between Paris and Seoul is seven hours.”
Minho bites back a smile, “You Googled it?”
Seungmin bristles, “Of course I did. Six months is a long time, hyung.”
“It’s only 182 days,” Maybe Minho did some Googling of his own.
“What if you meet a cute French boy and cheat on me?”
Minho scoffs, “You’re an idiot.”
No one is cuter than you, is what he doesn’t say.
“You’re not denying it!” Seungmin whines, “You’re going to be surrounded by gorgeous artists all day, how can I trust you?”
“How can I trust you ?” Minho counters, “I know Hyunjin is waiting for me to leave so she can steal you for herself.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes, “You’re delusional, Hyunjin has her hands full with her own love triangle.”
Minho sniffs. He may have softened to Hyunjin’s existence, but he still doesn’t trust her.
“We can make it six months,” Minho says, “We’re better than other couples.”
“I don’t know…” Seungmin trails off, “I don’t want to hold you back.”
“How are you doing that?” Minho asks, frowning.
“You—You’re talented and special, you’re going to Paris and you’re going to do amazing things,” Seungmin says, “Meanwhile I’m just here, boring and unimportant. I don’t want to hold you back from being great.”
Minho’s frown deepens, “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“It’s the truth,” Seungmin says with a self-deprecating little smile.
Seungmin’s an idiot if he doesn’t know how special he is.
“You should go to Paris with no burdens,” Seungmin says, “It’ll be better if we break up.”
“You’re not a—”
The bus reaches Minho’s stop. The doors loudly swing open and Seungmin nudges Minho to stand up. He wants to say more but he doesn’t. Seungmin doesn’t get off the bus with him like he usually does. The doors close behind Minho and he can only watch as the bus drives past. The cold night air hitting his wet cheeks.
Their second breakup lasts twelve hours. Minho isn’t having it this time.
He goes to Seungmin’s house, bright and early, with an overnight bag packed. Seungmin’s grandma lets him in, greeting Minho with a kiss on the cheek. She offers to make him breakfast but Minho politely declines, saying that he has breakfast plans with Seungmin instead.
Seungmin’s keeps his room pristine. Not only is it clean, but it’s free of clutter. Everything has its own place—the photos lining his wall, the whiteboard hanging over his desk, the collections of different cameras and bookshelves. There’s even a place for Minho, an empty drawer for when he sleeps over, the right side of his bed empty like waiting for Minho to fill up the space. The photos on Seungmin’s wall vary, some of his friends, some of the different sunsets he’s captured, one candid of his grandma smiling softly. But there’s an entire section dedicated for just Seungmin and Minho, a collection of their memories together—first date, hundredth date, their last day of high school, first day of college. Their past few years together, it’s all there.
Seungmin doesn’t stir when Minho enters the room. He’s dead asleep and buried under the blue bed covers. Minho gives himself a running start, then launches himself on top of Seungmin.
“Yah, Kim Seungmin,” he shouts directly into Seungmin’s ear, “Wake up!”
Seungmin jolts awake, squirming under Minho’s weight.
“Wah—what’s going on?” he slurs, sleep-crusted eyes slowly blinking open. He registers Minho on top of him and his eyes widen. “Hyung? What are you doing here?”
“Stupid ass,” he says, “You can’t break up with me.”
Seungmin narrows his eyes, he shoves Minho off him so he can sit up.
“Yes I can,” he answers, rubbing his eyes, “I just did.”
“Well, I’m vetoing the break up.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I just did,” Minho mimics.
Seungmin stares at him, Minho stares back. That goes on for a few minutes, both of them too stubborn to relent.
“What are you doing here?” Seungmin asks again.
“Pack an overnight bag,” Minho instructs. “We’re going on a trip.”
“What?”
“We’re going to Suwon,” he says, standing from the bed and pulling Seungmin up with him. “You wanted to see the sea, right?”
Seungmin blinks, confused. “We have classes today.”
“We’re skipping,” Minho says, “I already got the bus tickets and your grandma approved.”
Seungmin groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Good boy, you’re learning” Minho says sweetly, patting Seungmin’s cheek. “Now pack a bag.”
Seungmin’s sour mood liftens on the bus ride to Suwon. They sit side by side, thighs pressed together while they share earphones. The two of them have a master playlist that they share on Spotify, it has more than one hundred songs because Seungmin adds every new song he’s obsessed with that week. They listen to it together the entire bus ride and by the time they reach their destination, Minho has Day6 stuck in his head and Seungmin is no longer grouchy.
They grab brunch first, Minho splurges for crab because they can’t come to the seaside and not have crab. They order more food than they can finish and stuff themselves before walking to the beach.
The beach is empty, because it’s the end of winter and the weather is too cold to properly enjoy the sea. It doesn’t matter to Seungmin and Minho, they bundle up, arms linked as they walk along the shore. The waves crash loudly against the shore, the salt air filling their noses and sand getting stuck in their shoes.
Seungmin takes a lot of pictures. Of the sea, of the seagulls, of Minho staring out at the ocean.
Minho snatches the film camera out of Seungmin’s hands, “Your turn.”
“Hey!” Seungmin yells, making a grab for the camera and failing, “If you fuck up my camera, I’ll kill you.”
“I would be a terrible boyfriend if I didn’t know how to use this after all these years,” Minho says.
There’s a playful glint in Seungmin’s eye, “You are a terrible boyfriend.”
“Ha. Ha.” Minho says dryly.
He lifts the camera and takes a picture of Seungmin. He’s always so awkward on the other side of the camera, posing stiffly like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s such a stark contrast to how he is behind the camera, natural and confident, pouring himself into every click.
“Act more natural,” Minho says, “Pretend the camera isn’t here, just look at me.”
Seungmin does what he’s told, meeting Minho’s eyes over the camera. His eyes soften, the smile he hides so much growing slowly. Minho takes the picture. Seungmin squints when the flash hits him and laughs.
“Is it always that bright?”
“Yeah, now you know my suffering.”
Seungmin giggles, taking the camera from Minho’s hands. He kisses the tip of Minho’s nose, rosy from the cold. “Poor hyungie.”
They sit in the sand and watch the ocean, huddled together like penguins to brave the cold wind. Seungmin rests his head in the crook of Minho’s neck, warm breath tickling his skin. They keep their cold hands intertwined.
“You know, this trip doesn’t change anything,” Seungmin says, breaking the silence between them. His voice is barely audible over the wind and the sea. “You’re still leaving for six months.”
“I know,” Minho says, “That doesn’t mean we should break up.”
Seungmin lifts his head, frowning at Minho, “Long distance is really hard.”
“I don’t care,” Minho looks at him. “I don’t care if it’s hard. I’m not breaking up with you because—” his heartbeat stutters in his chest. He’d been working up the nerve to say this all night. “—I love you.”
He feels the way Seungmin stiffens around him. His jaw drops, eyes filling with genuine surprise.
“What?” Minho asks nervously, the air feels warmer now that he’s said it out loud. “Did you really not know?”
“I didn’t,” Seungmin whispers.
“I’ve made it so obvious.”
Seungmin leans in and kisses Minho, chapped lips meeting chapped lips, cold hands cupping his face. The kiss doesn’t last very long because Seungmin can’t stop smiling. Their teeth clash and he pulls away with a sunny grin.
“I’m dense sometimes,” he breathes out, “You have to remind me.”
“Okay,” Minho agrees easily, “Only if you promise not to break up with me.”
Seungmin presses their foreheads together, eyes wet with unshed tears. “I promise.”
🎥 🎞
They manage the long-distance thing pretty well. They call every night, FaceTime when they can. Seungmin will call him while he’s studying for a test, hunched over his desk for hours while Minho sits on the other line and sketches. They send each other voice notes with updates, they still use their shared Spotify playlists, they text each other all hours of the day about the latest book they’re reading.
Sometimes, Seungmin will fall asleep on call. It talks to Minho through the late hours, he’ll fall asleep hunched over his desk, cheeks adorably squished against his textbook. And Minho will stay on the line for just a few more minutes to listen to him breathe.
It’s hard but they make it work. Seungmin had no reason to be worried.
Maybe, Minho should’ve been more worried about how easily Seungmin was willing to give up on them.
🎥 🎞
The third time they break up is the final time. One week before graduation, Seungmin gets a job offer from his internship – an entry level marketing manager for a local startup company. The job is exactly as boring as it sounds. Minho’s post-grad plans are chilling at his parents house, sleeping under the sun, and drawing. Really, nothing much as changed.
Except maybe everything has changed, because he hasn’t seen Seungmin in two weeks. He’s been extra busy. A combination of finals week, his internship and his part time job. He had to drop one of his cafe job when he got the internship, but he kept the bartending one because the shifts are for late nights anyways.
Being busy isn’t unusual for Seungmin, they’ve learned how to work through it over the years. But he’s been distant lately. When Minho does see Seungmin, he looks like a shell of a boy. Eyes rimmed with exhaustion and in the same hoodie he’s been wearing all week. They’ll spend their nights quietly, Minho running a hand through Seungmin’s greasy hair while they watch a movie. They won’t take much. But their silences no longer bring the comfort they once did. It lingers with uncertainty, with everything Seungmin isn’t telling him.
He can tell Seungmin is not telling him something, but they’re coming up to five years together and Minho still doesn’t know when it’s okay to push.
“Are you okay?” Minho asks. It’s the middle of spring. They’re at a park, watching the cherry blossoms like they promised to all those years ago. “You’re being quiet.”
Seungmin’s arm is linked with Minho as they walk down the park. He’s being extra clingy today too, some part of him always touching Minho, even when he was driving them here earlier.
Seungmin shrugs, “There’s a lot on my mind.”
It seems like there always is.
The park is too crowded for either of their liking, Seungmin leads them to a more secluded area, a bench under one of the trees. They sit down. The wind rustles the the flowers, making pink petals fall over them like rain. A few of them land in Seungmin’s hair, Minho reaches over and dusts the petals off with a smile.
“Is everything okay at home?” Minho asks, he hasn’t visited in a while. “Is halmeoni okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine,” Seungmin says, “The doctors advised her to stop working for good, and she’s doing alot better now.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Seungmin fidgets with Minho’s fingers, not looking him in the eye. The air around them sings with tension, it feels like they’re on the edge of something, but he doesn’t know what.
“We’re graduating next week,” Seungmin says finally.
“Yeah, we are.”
Seugmin meets his eyes, “That means a lot is going to change.”
“Not really,” Minho says, “If anything it’ll change for the better, you’ll be less busy, right?”
Seungmin chews on his lip, “I don’t know. My new boss is…kind of intense.”
“That’s okay, we’ll make it work.”
Minho will definitely be less busy. He’s excited to start his lifetime of relaxation. He’s posted some of his art online—with the help of Jisung’s expert (questionable) social media managing skills and it stirred up a bit of traction. He’s going to focus on creating more art and maybe opening up commissions every now and again.
They also have travel plans lined up for the summer. He’s going back to Paris for a bit, since he loved it so much the first time. He invited Seungmin and Jisung to come along with him, he even extended the invitation to Hyunjin, out of the goodness of his heart (and because Seungmin pouted at him until he agreed). Seungmin was tentative about travelling, he told Minho to give him a few months to save up the money.
(Yes, Minho offered to pay for his ticket. Yes, Seungmin glared at him until he retracted his offer.)
(Dating Seungmin remains to be a learning curve, even after five years)
“About Paris,” Seungmin says, reading Minho’s mind. “I don’t think I can come, money is tight this month.”
“Oh,” Minho says, he tries not to let his disappointment show. But he doesn’t think it works. He was looking forward to going on a longer trip with Seungmin, somewhere out of the country so he can show Seungmin all his favourite spots in Paris. It’s all he thought about during his exchange.
“Sorry,” Seungmin says.
“No, that’s okay. We’ll only be in Paris for a few weeks, we’ll have plenty of time to spend together after that.”
Seungmin shakes his head, frantic and frustrated. He looks at Minho, and there’s a sadness to his eyes, something devastated and broken. Minho is about to ask him what’s wrong when he blurts:
“We need to break up.”
Minho rips his hands away from Seungmin’s touch.
“I’m not fucking doing this again,” he grits out. Frustration biting at his insides.
“Hyung,” Seungmin says, “I mean it this time, for real. We need to break up.”
“Why?” he asks, “Because we’re graduating? Because you can’t handle another big change happening to us?”
“No,” Seungmin forces out through clenched teeth, his eyes are shining with unshed tears but they’re determined. “I—I can’t—no matter how much I try, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m holding you back. I can’t be in a relationship where I feel so inferior.”
His words tug at Minho uncomfortably. Softly, he asks, “I didn’t know I made you feel that way.”
“You don’t do it intentionally,” Seungmin says, “It’s not even your fault. This is something I have to fix about myself. I just—I’m just me. And I can’t for the life of me figure out what you see in that.”
Minho swallows, “Seungmin-ah–”
“Stop,” Seungmin cuts him off, holding a hand up. “You can’t change my mind. I’m ending this.”
Minho blinks. “You can’t just decide something like that.”
“I’m—I’m sorry, hyung,” Seungmin says, standing up. The little space between them already feels like a chasm.
It still feels like Seungmin isn’t telling him something. He can’t just end everything like that. He knows they haven’t been doing as well lately. That they’ve been distant and extra snippy with each other. But how can Seungmin walk away so easily?
Minho stands too and reaches for Seungmin’s arm. All around them, the cherry blossoms rain down. Something so pretty feels so horrible now. Spring is meant for new beginnings, but Minho doesn’t like this one.
“Seungmin-ah,” Minho tries again, desperately, pleading in a way he’s never done before. He never chases after Seungmin, never pleads with him. “Baby—please. You promised me.”
“I’m sorry hyung,” Seungmin’s voice breaks, but he doesn’t cry. He takes Minho’s face in his hands, holding him like water in his palms and whispers, “This is the right thing to do. You’ll be grateful for it later on.”
Just as easily as he touches him, he rips his hands away from Minho’s skin. He turns and walks away. Minho does nothing, he watches. He doesn’t understand why Seungmin is doing this to them. He wonders if he ever really understood Kim Seungmin.
It takes one thousand, seven hundred and ninety-two days for Seungmin to walk out of his life. And he takes the summer with him.
🎥 🎞
FIVE YEARS LATER
3. INT. MINHO’S HOUSE. ART STUDIO. EARLY MORNING
MINHO is asleep on top of his latest drawing. He’s hunched over his desk, head buried in his arms, cheek pressed against the paper. There are colour pencils scattered all around him. A stack of books piling up by the legs of his desk. His art studio is a cluttered space, his own work hangs from the walls, unfinished drawings pile up on the desk. The walls are lined with shelves of books. An unfinished drawing of his old high school is framed and hanging on the wall behind his desk, it’s splattered with red ink.
The doorbell rings. MINHO doesn’t stir. It rings three more times.
MINHO groans, eyes fluttering open.
The doorbell rings again.
MINHO: Jesus fucking christ.
He groggily stands up, rubbing his eyes. The doorbell rings again.
MINHO (yelling): I’m coming!
His studio is located in the basement of his house. He walks upstairs to the living area, sunlight pouring through his arched windows. He stops at the kitchen and grabs a waterbottle out of the fridge, throat scratchy from falling asleep in his cold studio for the third time that week.
The doorbell rings once more.
MINHO (muttering): Did Jisung forget his keys again? I’ll kill him.
The doorbell does not stop ringing.
He storms towards the door, waterbottle in hand. He pries the front door open.
MINHO: Why the fuck—
MINHO blinks when he realises it’s not JISUNG at his door. First, he’s met with blinding sunlight, and then when he blinks again, he registers KIM SEUNGMIN at his door.
KIM SEUNGMIN, who he hasn’t seen in five years.
SEUNGMIN looks older, more grown into his features. But he’s still familiar. His hair is styled, curly locks parted and falling over his forehead. He wears an uncertain smile, close-lipped. His style seems like it’s changed over the years. He’s wearing a silk white button up, the top two buttons of the shirt are unbuttoned and it’s tucked into a pair of tight slacks. There’s a tattoo peeking out from his chest. Minho can do nothing but stare.
SEUNGMIN (nervously): Hi, hyung. I need a favour.
MINHO unscrews his bottle and pours water into his palm. He sprays water right into SEUNGMIN’S face.
END