Work Text:
1.
Seungmin slipped into the bus and scanned his card by the driver's seat before he made his way to the back. Taking his respective seat next to the window, he let out a puff of air as he pushed the glass front, and relished in the gentle breeze that pushed his fringes away from his forehead.
The bus doors closed with a hiss and he felt the bus almost elevate at that—the driver coughed loudly and spit out the window, and Seungmin was too engrossed in his mind to be perturbed by it. This generation was damned anyway.
The bus's blue lights flickered softly, and only functioning white light in the front, seemed underfunded and with how it thrummed softly with each of the bus's wobbles—it made sense, who used bus services past midnight anyways?
The district had organized a select few buses to be allowed past midnight, mostly to reduce the number of sexual assaults that took place. Seungmin glanced warily at the CCTV that watched him from near the rear view mirror before he averted his attention back at his hands. In the neon blues, they seemed much more battered up than they looked at the bus stop—nearly brownish at the knuckles and bearing a few droplets of blood.
He didn't get into a fight—but sometimes he wished he did. Instead whenever something bothered him, he'd go to the campus’ gym and take his rage out on the punching bag. It hurt—of course it did, that's what he wanted—a reason to continue.
He slumped in his seat and looked out again. Light pollution painted the skies a sickening shade of yellow mixed with many liters of gray—the stars long gone, the moon withered to nothing but a dull knowledge. He dug his nail into the wound on his knuckle and sighed as they passed an alley filled with various bars—the music booming so loud that it vibrated Seungmin’s chest.
This had become a regime of sorts. Every night he'd feel inexplicably burnt out after countless hours spent in fixing his music theory notes, his fingers against the piano. His violin partner for their upcoming sonata performance surely didn't deserve this treatment—and he made sure Seungmin knew that—berating him at hours for how he's fucked up his fingers, how he's useless when it comes to thinking about himself.
Seungmin would agree with him— was he wrong?
The box that he was stuck in was made of titanium—double layered with piles of nonsensical construction material. No matter what wire he tried to separate—no matter what brick he threw aside, finding a key to the box was as useless as trying to find a reason why he bothered to continue living like this.
It was roughly around two, and he was used to the people who took the transport around now. Not many did—he knew a woman who'd come every Tuesday and Thursday near the Supermarket, two businessmen who'd get up near the Han River bus stop, and a few students who'd be let up too late from their extra classes after school.
Usually, he was the last stop, with his apartment almost an hour and half away from his campus. He didn't have to do that, he very well had the dormitory covered under his scholarship, but with his roommate’s streak of continuous hook ups over the past month, he had no intention of staying in the same place.
The bus suddenly lurched to stop and Seungmin frowned as he glanced outside the window to see a gas station. No one really got up here—at least no one had over the past months.
He eyed the door as it hissed open and the person awaiting at the stand got in. If the world was a pile of rusted coins, the man that entered would be the only polished kind. He didn't shine, no, neither did he smile as he scanned his card and made his way into the bus—but he simply had this… aura to him that promised that he wasn't contaminated like the rest of them.
Clad in full gym pants and a white windbreaker zipped to his neck, he trotted over and then paused right at the entrance of Seungmin's seat, eying Seungmin's bag wordlessly.
Great . Not all the bright gems were of the greatest worth, were they? Not wanting to converse, Seungmin pulled his bag onto his lap and the newcomer sat down next to him, crossing one leg over the other, giving Seungmin enough place to put his bag down.
The bus was empty, yet the man was inclined to sit here?
But Seungmin didn't bother. He hugged his bag and looked outside the window, barely seeing half of the occupations with how much the fluorescent lights in the bus reflected the glass.
His eyes automatically found themselves on the man's reflection. It should be a sin for someone to look as refreshed as he did at the break of early morning. He watched as the man connected his wired earbuds to an MP3 and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes as he got comfortable, leaving Seungmin feeling weird for staring.
Okay. He decided. His sister was a computer science major. She'd told him all about anomalies. This man was nothing but an anomaly.
2.
The man kept his streak of sitting next to Seungmin despite having the entire bus empty to himself—and Seungmin being the awkward soul, never bothered questioning the other.
Why here?
But the man never spoke up, he sat next to Seungmin, slipped his ear buds in, crossed his arms across his chest and closed his eyes and fell into some sort of deep thought.
Two weeks later, Seungmin was busy listening to the recording sent by his violin copartner. It was painstaking—he could probably do much better if he attempted, but who was he to compare? Jeongin seemed to hate it as much as he did.
The bus was nearly empty again as it trodded through the night, casting its harsh glow on neighboring streets as it passed. Then it stopped right there again. At the point of anomaly.
The man was clad in the same white windbreaker and loose black joggers and he made his way over to where Seungmin sat, expectantly standing. There's the whole bus for your reign, why do you want to do this to me?
But he pulled his bag to his chest again and let the man sit down next to him. The latter brought his own small bag to his lap to take out his MP3 and Seungmin blinked a few times as he read over the small keychain stuck to his bag. Miroh University and Musical Institution.
He went to the same university? Seungmin didn't recall seeing him around often, but in the latter’s defence, he rarely spent his time frolicking.
The man next to him shifted till he was comfortable and crossed his arms against his chest, his eyes closing once the earbuds in his ears started playing something Seungmin wasn't privy to.
Eventually, the bus ended up getting stuck in some highway traffic, typical of Seoul even at this time. Maybe it was some accident? Someone tried jumping? Seungmin wasn't really keen on finding out. He glanced to his side to see the man's eyes open and a frown on his delicate features as he glanced at his watch.
It was soon nearing three, Seungmin would typically be making his bed by now. Instead he was stuck in a bus with a stranger. The man's next to him shifted a little and began playing with the chain of his bag, that was when Seungmin caught the sight of the other man's battered knuckles. If he could comment, they were equally fucked as his own, perhaps worse.
Although, what could he say? His thoughts ran at a trajectory different from his mouth as he found himself asking. “Do you need a band aid?”
The man glanced at him, his frown slowly dissipating as his lips turned to form an o shape. “Why—” then he glanced at his knuckles and caught sight of the beading blood droplets. “Yeah… okay. Do you happen to have one?”
“Wouldn't ask if I didn't,” Seungmin mumbled as he reached into his bag and fished out two transparent bandages.
The man in front of him looked at the bandages awkwardly and Seungmin blinked as his brain processed. “Oh… Do you want me to put it for you? You're right handed… aren't you?”
The man gave a sheepish nod and extended his fist ahead for Seungmin to take.
His sister used to get in fights with the bullies that would pick at Seungmin for being weird . Seungmin was used to telling her to stand down and would even carry band aids to plaster on her knuckles after the fights. He worked in a practiced fashion and tapped the adhesive onto the latter's skin. “Okay?” he checked.
“Okay,” the man affirmed and admired the band aids. “Your fingers are nimble but calloused. Do you play the guitar or some instrument?”
Seungmin opened and closed his mouth before shrugging. “I do play when I get time, otherwise I play piano.”
“What does a pianist have to do at the dead of night?”
Seungmin glanced out the window at the line of red and yellow lights. Escape , he wanted to whisper. But instead he shrugged again. “If I knew, I don't think I'd be stuck here.”
The man hummed. “Valid,” he murmured, taking his earbuds out and pausing the MP3. “What's your name?”
Seungmin blinked a couple of times before he turned to face the other man. “Kim Seungmin,” he murmured. Then swallowed a few times before asking, “What's yours?”
“Suppose that'll give you a reason to be here in the dead of the night?” The other man asked, scrunching his nose in a way that was rather endearing. Seungmin wasn't blind, the man next to him was eye candy for all—starved, ravened, and tired beasts. “Let's see if you get to know my name anytime soon.”
“This isn't fair,” Seungmin tried. He didn't know why he was entertaining this bullshit while they were stuck in a traffic jam at twilight. He knocked his head against the seat in front of him and glanced at the other. “Did you go to some gym?”
“Mhm… something like that.” The other sighed, scratching at his forearm. “Think of it as stress relief, will you? The day extracts too much from me. I have to get rid of it.”
“Like toxins?” Like the same itch under my skin that I despise.
“I box.”
Oh, what a coincidence.
Seungmin nodded and subtly glanced at his own knuckles, bruised and ugly. “So do you,” the man hummed, following Seungmin’s eyes. “Apparently.”
“Apparently,” Seungmin deadpanned, sighing internally when the bus finally started again.
The other man fiddled with his MP3 and Seungmin pursed his lips. “No one uses those anymore.”
The other man smiled back at him. “Gives me more of a reason to use it. I don't need my phone to bother me when I'm out here. I'd rather enjoy the silence and music without the vibrations bothering me.”
“Touche.”
“And it's cheap and small.”
Seungmin nodded and watched the other man dig into the play button and traverse through some small music files. He continued till he found a certain track labelled instrumentals —and Seungmin found an earbud being tossed at him right after.
“It's not like you're getting down in the next fifteen minutes,” the man reasoned with a shrug. “Might as well… “
“If you insist,” Seungmin mumbled, but lifted the little bud and pressed it into his ear. The man drooped in his chair so that his legs were hanging as they pressed the seat in the front, giving the wires less stretch.
A soft tune, like the raw instrumental of a song, echoed through the earbuds and Seungmin let his lashes flutter close as he thanked heavens for the other not being keen on listening to loud music. Don't get him wrong, he loved music and its forms but sometimes he simply couldn't stand loud sounds.
“I'll wake you up at your stop,” the man promised.
Seungmin blinked his eyes open. “You've memorized my stop?”
“Kind of hard not to when you kicked me last time.”
Seungmin pursed his lips. “It was an accident.”
“I know it was, Seungmin-ssi. Sleep if you need to… looks like you need it.”
3.
Seungmin got used to Not-Stranger sitting next to him often in the bus that he completely overlooked an upcoming awkward intervention.
Felix sat in front of him, his arms crossed against his chest in an attempt to look serious, but Seungmin found it rather endearing. In the beginning, it was the non stop charade of Chan and Felix fucking in the dorm that had thrown him towards the only choice available—go back to his apartment and get some sleep.
Sleep was an understatement, he went there and got a max three-four hours of sound sleep before he had to get ready for his 9 a.m. classes. Sometimes he drifted to sleep in the library, on the bus, in his classes. Sleep wasn't easy but he got it in the most arbitrary patterns, he was sure it somehow measured to five hours in total—completely normal for a college student like him.
“What is it?” he asked, entirely unamused.
“I'm here to ask you why you've been sneaking out late at night and coming back each day looking progressively worse!” Felix accused. In the background eggs were crackling against pans as Chan worked on making them breakfast. They were in Seungmin's apartment, having shown up that Saturday somewhere around nine.
Seungmin scratched his nape and looked around awkwardly. “Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to be honest?”
“You said honest twice.”
“The sugarcoated honest or the deadpanned honest?”
“Sugarcoated would be delectable.” Chan said, “Seungmin-ah, you're brutal.”
Seungmin sighed and blinked a few times before he cleared his throat to articulate a complaint he'd been playing on repeat in his head. “Would it take that much to simply be a little less loud at the crack of dawn?”
Felix blinked at him; the eggs crackled, and from where Seungmin was sitting on the fuzzy carpet, he saw Chan's ears slowly start to redden with each passing second endowed in silence.
“Oh,” Felix said, but somehow he seemed to have less shame than Chan. Because he had the audacity to fucking throw a shit eating grin towards Seungmin. “You heard that?”
“That's all I hear half the time! You fucking bunnies! I'd think someone of Chan hyung's age would have his libido in check, but no! You succubus,” he accused Felix, “Both of you cannot physically let me sleep! Why don't you go fuck in hyung's dorm?”
“Because his roommate is terrifying!” Felix whined. "And scary... And intimidating!"
Seungmin made a disgusted face. “So the only reason I'm dealing with your nonsense is because I'm not scary enough?”
“Apparently.”
“Yongbok hyung, I will not hesitate to hide a dead rat under your bed.”
Chan laughed at that and brought the pan to the table, placing the sunny side up eggs on each of their plates and walking back to grab the avocado toasts and juice boxes. “Alright,” he cleared his throat. “I'm extremely sorry for the inconvenience, Seungmin-ah… I should've been more cautious and respectful.”
Seungmin scrunched his nose and averted his gaze with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled.
Chan then tapped the table. “But this isn't just about the sex, is it? I don't mean to intrude and impose more than I've already done, but I'm simply curious. It's been more than a month since you've been gone. And we haven't done anything for the past two weeks due to our upcoming midterms.”
Seungmin swallowed awkwardly. “I don't know,” he mumbled. “It's not like you two ever gave me a heads up.”
Felix grumbled and scratched his jaw. “How about you room with hyung's roommate when we want the room to ourselves? He's not home half the time, right, Chris ?”
“Yeah,” Chan said, gesturing to both of them to join him. “I don't want to be the reason you don't score well, Seungmin-ah.”
“Is that seriously the only thing you're worried about?” Seungmin asked, crossing his arms as he sat on the chair that Chan pushed into the table. “Not about my pure ears?”
“We literally caught you mid-hookup with one of the cheerleaders in high school. And it was Changbin hyung's room, of all places!” Felix recalled quietly, taking a bite of his avocado toast. “It's not like you're a pure, delicate virgin or anything. Sex is sex.”
“Sex is sex, but not when it's done in a place where you sleep—”
“Okay, look, how about this?” Chan interjected, waving his toast in between them. “I can tell you with TMI that me and ‘Lix have no plans for y'know while the midterms are like… in the coming two weeks. But when we might have anything in mind, you can crash at my dorm. My roommate is rarely there!”
“Will your buildings’ management allow it?” Seungmin asked.
“Oh, he won't care, trust me. It's a senior boys' dorm, do you think they care?”
Seungmin hummed quietly, biting into the avocado toast. “Since this is an intervention,” he began, placing the piece down so he could cross his arms and stare at the both of them seriously. “I know Lixie hyung called you daddy as a joke, I didn't think you'd actually be into it.”
“Fuck off.”
Seungmin worked his ass off, going sheet after sheet until he was satisfied enough with the music streaks. His hands grew as callused as they grew streaked with ink and bruises. His night rides also grew just as sparse as his sleep hours and he found himself in the campus gym more often than not, realizing it was possible to study in his dorm without having to worry about Felix and Chan.
Yet he was here, at one in the night, standing near the boxing rink, eying the sweat fist imprint on the navy-red punching bag—his hand aching numbly as he withdrew it slowly.
The punching bag elicited this disgusting pleasure out of him as he hit it repeatedly in some invisible promise that he'd feel better. He was frustrated—Jeongin and his piece were coming together just fine but he'd heard a snippet of another group's performance and suddenly he was drowning under water, unable to claw back to the surface. Inferiority complex—Jeongin had repeatedly accused him of it.
He landed a kick on the punching bag, sending it swaying sideways as he registered a distinct burn in his foot. He wanted to dissipate—feel his life ebb away like embers of wood and paper.
“You shouldn't hit the bag with only rage, that's the basis, at least according to what my old instructor bothered saying.”
Seungmin sometimes hated his memory frame. He didn't have to turn around to know whom the voice belonged to. “Oh no, without proper gear as well, what shall we do with you, Seungmin-ah?”
Seungmin scowled and turned around from where he stood so he was facing the same stranger who now, was not only limited to his bus rides but his real life too. “Stranger-ssi,” he greeted, sitting down on the elevated floor so he could stare at the other as he caught his breath.
The man was without his windbreaker for once, a tight fitting black shirt in replacement. He grinned at Seungmin but the taller man knew that it was just as fake as his own. “What is it?” Seungmin asked again.
“Since you're here, why don't I pad you?” the stranger asked, wrapping bandages around his knuckles and covering them to his forearms before he reached for the red boxing pads that hung outside the rink. Seungmin watched as the other stepped into the rink and slipped his fingers into the boxing pad's backside.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Why not?”
“I'll hit you.”
“I'd like to see you try,” the man chuckled in amusement. “C'mon. You should've told me you went here. It would've saved me the time I spent searching for you.”
“I knew you went here,” Seungmin grumbled. “Didn't want excess interaction.”
“Ouch,” the man mumbled but prompted Seungmin to stand regardless. When the two of them stood facing each other in the dead silence of the night, no other inhabitant in this section of the campus gym other than them, Not-Stranger smiled. “Wrap yourself and come at me with the intent to forget your problems.”
Seungmin stared at him carefully and took the roll of hand tape that the other had extended in his left hand. “Let me,” the man spoke up, his voice the only cacophony in the buzzing in Seungmin's head.
There was nothing to lose either way as Seungmin let the other take a hold of his left hand. “Hold it here.” The latter guided. “You sure love fucking your hands up. Weren't you a pianist?”
Seungmin grunted in response as the other binded the gauze around his knuckles tightly before moving it to his wrists. And for the first time, Seungmin let him.
Usually he was drunk in a feeling of independence but this time he simply shrugged it off. After drowning in the silence for a few minutes, the man pulled away and admired Seungmin's hands. “You have nice hands,” he confessed, “Now come at me.”
Seungmin waited for the shorter male to finish putting the boxing pads on before he landed his first punch, barely throwing the other off guard. That got on his nerves and he aligned himself again and threw another punch, aiming it right at the center of the pad.
When Seungmin realized that both of the hands held practically the same level of defense against Seungmin, he frowned. "Didn't you say you were right hand dominant?".
"Did I?" the other hummed, defending another one of Seungmin's punches. "Maybe."
"Liar."
"I didn't think you'd remember that tiny detail, Seungmin-ah. But you're right—" the other pushed Seungmin's foot away from the pad. "I'm ambidextrous."
As the days etched on, Seungmin didn't know how it became a norm with someone he didn't even know the name of.
4.
He ended up wearing gloves to the final piece that he was to present. The orchestra had lent them the main auditorium and all music enthusiasts were welcome along with the three judges/instructors who'd be grading each piece.
Seungmin wasn't too pent up but it wasn't like he was all ‘okay’ either. Jeongin had told him to change a chord last minute, diminish a note, and slow down in the middle before going accelerando. He hated unexpected change and hated that he had to be the one to accommodate it.
Regardless of his internal turmoil, he bowed to the audience once with a stage smile and walked over to the piano, feeling rigid in his stuffy formal clothing. The gloves were thin and hid his battered knuckles and also helped stop them from growing numb, but he knew the risks of them sliding across the keys.
Their performance was the second one, and if Seungmin had been any less experienced, he'd be having an anxiety attack. But he stayed put, went over the instructions in his head as he watched Jeongin test the violin's bow before turning to face the judges and bow at par with Seungmin.
After sitting down on the leather stool, he glanced over at Jeongin and nodded his head in a silent count before pressing down on the opening chords.
The music drifted slowly but surely and Jeongin picked up the tones with a practiced notion. The topic had been of a certain cinematic tune of a moment that was important to him. There were many moments which would've been important to him, but the most important one was probably his sister waking him up at the crack of dawn to tell him to pack his belongings and that they were running away.
As the music surged on, the keys on the piano reaching opposite ends, Seungmin let out somewhat of an exhale. The violin dragged out the confusion, the piano gave it hope. And the music accelerated till they reached the bottom of the household, and then stopped, right when Seungmin knocked over a group of soju bottles down the stairs.
He glanced at the audience as he opened his eyes, instantly finding Felix sitting next to Jisung listening intently. His eyes cast over the audience quickly—the judges who were looking at him with scrutiny and then the peers and—
Him .
The stranger who now sent him a reassuring smile.
And it was just as easy as his hands moved again, fingers tinkering over the keys. His sister had rushed the both of them down the stairs and didn't hesitate as she grabbed a wallet from its confines within the photo frame along with scooter keys and ran out with Seungmin. The music surged and Seungmin closed his eyes and reminisced as she had put the main suitcase in between her legs and had forced Seungmin to hold onto a few bags as she drove away, pausing later to put a helmet over her head.
The violin crawled and then turned warm as she stopped by an apartment that had grown like the backside of Seungmin's hand. The piano turned softer as the both of them cried themselves to sleep in pure happiness of getting out of that place and slowly, the memory dissipated into reality and Seungmin opened his eyes as he slowed down at the ending.
He locked eyes with Jeongin and knew what the younger wanted. Improvise. They were still under the time limit. He played a few chord variations and ended it at the hike of the violin.
With the music no longer in his ears he fell prey to the unruly cacophony. The judges buzzed, Felix and Jisung loudly cheered for him—Changbin forcing them back into their seats after their cheers became the only thing echoing in the auditorium.
Seungmin felt lost and nauseous, but entirely self aware as if he was witnessing his surroundings in a panorama. He always got like this after any shows, the comprehension of mistakes always came later than at the moment and they bombarded him so hard that he struggled to breathe.
He must've escaped the shithole physically, but that didn't change that he still couldn't stop thinking in a certain linear pathway that he shouldn't.
He watched as the judges bumbled, talking together in incoherencies. Before his head could get the best of his, Jeongin nudged his shoulder. “That was good, hyung."
Seungmin offered a tired smile and internally jumped when the intercom was picked up. “Applicants Kim Seungmin-ssi and Yang Jeongin-ssi, we'll give you a collective response by the end of the program. Please hold tight.”
Seungmin felt like he was falling apart like kinetic sand, slowly and painfully. He exhaled sharply and nodded, stepping away from the grand piano’s seat so he could bow and exit.
Felix was busy calling out to him, but just when Seungmin passed the fourth row, Not-Stranger tapped his hand and smiled up at Seungmin. “You did good,” he said, then patted the empty seat next to him. The speaker wasn't directly firing over here, rather it was much higher up, making the sound more dispersed, something which Seungmin desperately craved at the moment.
The man wasn't wearing his windbreaker, instead he was dressed in a black turtleneck and loose beige slacks, his coat folded neatly on the armrest that he now shared with Seungmin. It amazed the pianist how the former managed to devise such simple garments into such pretty aesthetics.
“Good… are you sure? I must've gone wrong somewhere,” Seungmin mumbled.
The other gave him a funny look. “Yeah? I wouldn't know. It sounded close to perfection to me.” There was a thin chain that he wore that had Seungmin's eyes hyperfixated—it was gold and had a small stone as a pendant, much like the thin gold colored earrings worn by the latter. "Sit down?"
"Yeah," Seungmin mumbled under his breath, slipping into the row to sit down next to the former.
When he felt eyes on him, he glanced at his right to see Not-Stranger staring at him. "What?" Seungmin asked, watching as the other man's eyes flicked from his lips back to his face.
"You did great," he repeated. "And you look gorgeous, Seungmin-ah. The silver earrings suit you—and so does the suit."
Seungmin swallowed and looked back at the stage. "You look good too... Finally wore something other than the stupid windbreaker."
“You've depicted the concept well,” the judge said, fixing her hair as she crossed one leg over the other. “It was beautiful—it reminded me of when me and my eomma would run back to our house after sundown from our fields.”
“It has that tone to it, of course,” the male judge agreed. “Running away—where? The tone doesn't say, but it implies anywhere better from the present.”
“I think you deserve a ninety-seven from me,” the third judge decided. “I listened to it once again. I love the composition. Both instruments get their high and low. It's not a competition but it's not a companionship either. It's… how can I say this? A far stretched acquaintance. Mutual respect.”
“I'd love to give it a full hundred.” The male judge pursed his lips as he rubbed his jaw. “However, I'll settle with a ninety-eight. There's this one gap you've left in the middle that makes it feel as if there's still confusion going on. Obviously, it's a realistic note, but for anyone to be moved, the notes have to be continuous to match the given subject.”
“It'll be a ninety-eight from me as well,” the woman who'd spoken first declared. “I love the composition. But of course, like everything, there has to be work done to make it even better. It's beautiful and magnificent, I haven't seen a piece like this in the past two years. I hope to see a sequel to this during the next semester's end.”
Seungmin bowed, his ears tinged red as he stared at the floor. He could see Jeongin's polished shoes next to his own. One of their laces was untied, but it was fine. Not everything was meant to be uniform.
When he exited the room, Felix jumped onto his back. “How was it? How was it!? Did they grill you? I'll go and fight them myself—”
“It was great,” Jeongin interrupted. “Seungmin hyung's overanalyzing it again. Either that or he hasn't gotten these good marks in a while.”
Seungmin blinked tiredly. He'd worked his ass off ever since the night before. He was doing a double major—a masters in sound engineering and a bachelor's in piano performance. Exams were unique for both of them—while sound engineering was an online exam involving thinking and was pretty much straightforward, piano was a performance that exerted him throughout.
“I'd take all of you out for dinner,” Chan mumbled from the back, trying to stop Jisung and Changbin's bickering. He wasn't sure before Changbin and Hyunjin had shown up but since they were there, it made sense to go out. To Seungmin's surprise, Not-Stranger was standing by Chan, leaning against his frame, clearly amused at Changbin and Jisung. “But we're still in between midterms.”
“It's fine,” Seungmin hummed, fiddling with his gloves. “Really.”
"Yep!" Jeongin said. "I want to sleep either way."
"But I—"
Not-Stranger raised his brows before interrupting Chan. “My dance recital is next week. And I'm pretty confident about kinesiology and statistics. I could take you out for some fast food if you want.”
Seungmin could see his friends looking in between them in almost surprise. “You both know each other?” Jisung asked, quietly but surely aghast.
Not-Stranger ignored him in favor of staring at Seungmin. “What do you say, Seungmin-ah?”
“Sure,” Seungmin breathed before he knew it. It wasn't like he was going to go back to a silent dorm either way. Might as well waste some hours of the night till Felix got done with his pre-sleep ramblings.
“Uh—” Chan tried to interject but Not-Stranger was already grabbing Seungmin's hand and pulling him out of the crowd.
“I'll be careful with him, Chan hyung, relax,” Not-Stranger promised, grinning back at all of them.
Seungmin hoped one of them would say the nameless man's name—or something to go off of, but they stayed still, as if still surprised that the two of them somehow knew each other.
Not-Stranger owned a bike. A bike which he didn't bother using often, apparently.
Seungmin closed his eyes inside the helmet as air whipped at his sides and then closed them when he bit into the McDouble and sighed.
“You look as if you haven't eaten this in decades,” the man in front of him chuckled, eating one of the ten chicken nuggets he'd gotten. The both of them had agreed to share fries and McFlurry they’d got on the house.
“I don't,” Seungmin confessed, shifting in his place till the suit jacket's tag stopped poking his neck. He didn't like eating out—didn't like the idea of excess useless expenditure when he'd already pre-paid for the university's canteen. Without a thought, he quickly squashed the little Jisung that popped up in his head, telling him fear of expenditure was a trauma response.
So what if he was a bit traumatized?
“What about you?” Seungmin asked. “I learned new shit today. You're younger than Chan hyung, you know more than half of the people I know, you're majoring in dance and abandoned your studies to go on some food date with me.” Seungmin paused. “Are you older than me?”
Not-Stranger laughed softly at that, endearing in ways Seungmin shouldn't find. “Am I?”
“Oh come on,” Seungmin sighed.
“Oh come on, you have mayo near the corner of your mouth.”
Seungmin grumbled and grabbed a tissue and wiped it around his lips, bursting into laughter when he found the Not-Stranger’s approaching hand paused mid air.
The latter grumbled this time. “You're supposed to let me do the honors and wipe it for you as we gaze into each other's eyes.”
“Unfortunately, reality isn't like Chan hyung’s songs.”
Reality was much obscured—like the panels of old magazines, brittle and smooth to the touch with its contents unreadable.
Not-Stranger knocked his forehead against Seungmin's as they stood catching their breath underneath the backside of the dorm building—away from all prying eyes and noise, the background slowly echoing with only the pattern of rain and scent of petrichor.
“I'm Lee Minho,” the man confessed, like he was telling Seungmin some sort of secret.
Seungmin closed his eyes and felt the warmth radiate through their wet clothes. “Well, Minho-ssi, don't you think you're a little too close to me?”
“Am I?” Minho asked, his voice mirthful.
“Mhm,” Seungmin hummed, but he pushed Minho back till the man's back was against the cold bricks and pressed their lips together. It made sense.
Seungmin never kissed anyone this soom—Chan wasn't wrong—he'd gone on a streak of kissing anyone and fucking anyone in his way during the last year of his high school after he and his sister had gotten out of their once home. But Minho made sense.
He closed his eyes and pulled away as he pressed their foreheads together again, laughing when Minho made a comment about the taste of the sweet soft serve still lingering in Seungmin's mouth.
It made sense .
When Seungmin got back to his dorm, Changbin, Jisung, Chan, and Hyunjin were lounging on Felix's bed with Felix dozing off, all watching some rip off version of Scream. When Seungmin entered the room, all of them sent him collective entertained looks as they watched him enter. When their eyes persisted continuously without a single word as if Seungmin were some part of a new species, the pianist snapped. “What is it?”
Felix's head fell off Changbin's shoulder and he looked around with half lidded eyes, still asleep. “What?”
“Why're you all looking at me like that?” Seungmin asked, crossing his hand as Hyunjin pressed the spacebar with his extended toe, pausing the movie as all of them still stared at him owlishly.
Jisung, ever the unashamed who shared that trait with his twin, Felix, cleared his throat. “Since when did you and Minho hyung get this close?”
Seungmin sighed. “Why is that so shocking?”
“Because… because it makes sense but also doesn't?” Changbin squawked. “Both of you are pretty much anti-social—we never got to introduce you two because of your unlikely timings. One day you'd be there but hyung wouldn't, and the next day he'd be there but you'd be holed up in your room.”
“Not only that, Minho-ya completely ignored me and straight up asked Seungminnie out as if I was a figment of his imagination,” Chan whined, shaking Hyunjin by his shoulders. “Can you believe it—just yesterday I didn't even know he knew people outside of us.”
“Also, also, didn't they address each other informally?”
Seungmin grumbled under his breath as he shrugged. “It's not that big of a deal.”
“What's your relationship with him?” Hyunjin inquired, squinting his eyes as if it'd give him the answers. As if they did, his eyes droned on Seungmin's neck. “Is that a hickey?”
Seungmin blanched and immediately bolted to the bathroom. Surely, there was a hickey, it wasn't purple with the promise to last till tomorrow late morning, but Seungmin's skin had always been pale and susceptible to easy bruising. “No?” he tried.
“No he says!” Changbin narrated from outside.
“Use protection!”
“Why are you guys like this!” Seungmin groaned.
5.
Sometimes everything aside from him made sense—it was as if he wasn't meant for anything but torture. Exams ended, everyone went back to their families for the two week vacation, leaving Seungmin pretty much alone. Usually Felix was there to share the sentiment but he and Chan had dumped their sudden week-long date plans on Seungmin like cold water.
It left him in a painstakingly empty dorm, the entire building near abandoned with a few bookworms living in the libraries and computer labs. Seungmin would've gone to his sisters’ place, but she was pregnant and in her last month, meaning his presence there would only add to the chaos.
He called her every weekend, even three days ago he had apologized and told her it was better if he didn't come over so she could rest. She had cursed him out over the phone but then laughed it off and made him promise that he'd be there to see the baby as soon as possible, hopefully being present during the naming ceremony.
Seungmin had sniffled as he promised.
On the fourth day, he went back to the apartment, taking the morning bus for the first time, barely getting a place to sit.
The apartment meant eons to him and his sister—it was the place Seungmin had finished his high school in, it was the place where he and his sister had celebrated his eighteenth and her twenty-first birthday. It was the first point of their salvation.
On the sixth day, Seungmin went back to the campus, sleep deprived and bone tired. He knew he complained about workload and Felix often, but he couldn't fall asleep without them.
It was a habit he'd curated personally. He couldn't rest until it felt like he couldn't move another finger—he couldn't sleep without nightmares until he was tired enough to not be able to think straight.
So he followed a regime of sorts—practiced the piano in the empty auditorium till his fingers felt like they'd fall off—took all his energy out on the punching bag. Till his body ached as he woke up once again covered in a sheen of sweat.
He wasn't tired enough—it wasn't enough—
“What do you think you're doing?”
Seungmin jolted up from his position like whiplash, his head immediately filling with cotton as he tried to see who'd spoken. The empty auditorium stretched afar and beyond, but on the first line of burgundy seats, sat Minho, one leg over the other and his expression bemused.
After they'd kissed, the both of them had run into each other sometimes in the library and sat together in silence as they went over coursework. However Seungmin hadn't seen Minho since he'd gotten so stuck in his head.
Something wet made itself palpable in his gloves and his fingers refused to move when he placed them down on the keys. “Playing,” Seungmin replied.
“That’s not playing,” Minho mumbled.
“You wouldn't know.” Seungmin pressed down on a set of keys, toyed with the sharps, creating a cacophony that radiated throughout the room.
Minho cleared his throat. “Play something,” he prompted.
Seungmin glanced at the dark patches on his already black gloves and swallowed. “What do you want me to play?” he asked.
“Whatever comes to your mind. You can improvise it, if you want to. It can be nonsensical, but I want it to be something that resonates with you.”
Resonates with you.
Seungmin hated Winter for many reasons other than the perpetual chill it brought. His family had never been rich with his parents' tendency to gamble their money and waste it on alcohol and sometimes they'd pass out inside and Seungmin would have to wait in the snow for his sister to return from school to be let in.
He hated the nightmares it brought with it.
Seungmin pressed down on a set of keys again as his hands found a minor scale and decided to go along with it. As the music surged, he could see his father standing with a wooden ruler as he watched Seungmin play the piano. As the music accelerated, he flinched at the burning sensation in his fingers—and remembered the words his father would love to say.
Extend your hands towards me, child.
Red streaks would paint his palms and fingers and near the soft skin at his wrists. Sometimes the ruler would be of metal and his blood would only add to the scent of horror.
As the music continued growing more deranged, a hand suddenly grabbed his wrists and Seungmin deflated immediately, opening his eyes to see Minho looking at him with an unreadable look in his eyes.
Seungmin then followed his gaze to the piano keys—now stained with crimson at the ones he'd pressed a while back. He cursed under his breath and reached for the pack of tissue that was kept behind the grand piano, out of the audience’s view.
The moment he stood up, he stumbled easily, his head going completely light. Minho caught him swiftly before his vision completely blacked out and dragged him up to sit on the piano seat. “Hang your head between your knees, I'll get this cleaned,” Minho whispered.
However it was loud enough, even when Seungmin’s hearing had gone underwater.
“Which building is your dorm in?” Minho's voice came in a while. Seungmin opened his eyes; he didn't recall closing them but they softened as they registered Minho crouching down in front of him, a browning tissue in between his fingers.
“ ‘Don't want to go there,” Seungmin mumbled.
Minho hummed softly. “That's okay. Do you want to get on my back? I'll take you to my dorm instead. My roommate is out.”
Seungmin breathed heavily from his nose. “I can't move—I think I'll faint—”
“I know, Seungmin-ah. The sooner you lay down, the better, right?” Minho asked, soft and soothing.
His voice soothed a part of Seungmin’s brain that was hellbent on running haywire. “Yeah,” he breathed slowly. “Okay.”
Minho carried him on his back to the senior dorms, quiet but quick as he scanned his card and then climbed the first set of stairs. “I can get down—”
“I told you before, I box, and go to gym, you weigh pathetically less for your height,” Minho grumbled as he unlocked the door to his dorm and kicked it open, kicking it close as well. Seungmin began protesting when Minho started removing his shoes but the other had none of it. “Shut up.”
Seungmin snapped his mouth shut and went pliantly as Minho laid him down on the couch in the corner before he retreated to lock the door. “I'm giving you a protein bar and some energy drinks. No complaints, understand?” he said, opening the doors of the cabinet below the mini fridge and coffee machine.
Seungmin nodded dumbly and watched Minho work from where he lay. The couch was soft—worn, but spacious, comfortable to sleep on. “Here,” Minho mumbled, crouching down in front Seungmin, bringing the energy drink to Seungmin's lips.
It reeked of saccharine and nausea but Seungmin knew better than to reject it. He took a few sips before reaching for the protein bar.
Minho watched him as he ate half, his gaze only softening once Seungmin had eaten everything. “Now,” Minho said, “When you feel hungry, you let me know. We can make ramen or something.”
Seungmin smiled tiredly and watched as Minho's gaze dipped down to his gloved hands. “You're funny, Kim Seungmin,” Minho mumbled, “You don't wear gloves for caution when you punch the living shit out of those punching bags, but you conceal your shame with them.”
“I—”
Seungmin stared at his hands and sighed carefully, moving aside so Minho could sit on the couch beside him. He glanced at the gloves once again and moved his fingers, hearing something crystalline crack in the back of his mind. “Have you seen the hands of other piano players?”
“Not really, never bothered,” Minho mumbled, resting his head on Seungmin's shoulder as if it wasn't their first time being this close in a private setting. They'd fallen asleep on each other during the bus rides, but never anywhere else. Seungmin scrunched his nose as he slowly peeled the gloves off, wincing at the sight of dried blood running down to his fingers from the nicks on his knuckles.
Minho didn't say anything as he reached down to grab the bag he usually carried to retrieve a disinfectant wipe pack. “Show me your hand,” he said, folding the wipe with practiced ease as he took Seungmin's extended hand into his and ran the wet wipe over it.
The sensation was cold and sting inducing but Seungmin could care less as the blood was wiped away from either hands. Then, Seungmin’s eyes widened as Minho reached into the pockets of his windbreaker and retrieved two transparent band aids the exact same kind which the pianist had used those months back.
“Where were you these past days?” Minho asked as he tore the band aids.
Seungmin weighed the truth and what mixture of lies and truth was coming to his lips. “I went to my apartment,” he mumbled. “The one I used to go to using the bus.”
Minho paused but hummed. “Why?”
“Would you prefer me being blunt?” Seungmin asked. He didn't find the situation blunt but the only way he could power his way out of it was by being blunt.
“I'm a humble listener, Seungminnie. No matter what you want to say, I'll listen.”
Seungmin laughed mirthlessly and scrunched his nose as he stared at the now completely clean hands of his. They looked good, despite the bruises and band aids, they looked good in Minho's. “This was the month me and my sister ran away from our home.”
Minho nodded and let his head rest on Seungmin's shoulder again. “My—my parents were alcoholics,” Seungmin breathed sharply. “They… they weren't exactly abusive—I… I don't know if they were but I just…”
Minho said nothing but squeezed his hands. “Yeah… it wasn't a livable condition—they tried to make me some profit maker by forcing me to win competitions and bring home extra money for them to feast on. I actually don't even know why I still play.” He sniffled and closed his eyes tight as he controlled his breathing. He'd never admitted this to anyone—not even Felix or Chan. “My sister took the worst of it. Not only were they incredibly sexist, they also wanted to marry her off to random rich grooms who were twice her age. I think next week is probably the exact date when she woke me up in the middle of the night and told me that we were getting out of there.”
“I… we got out but sometimes…” Seungmin opened his eyes, finding his vision bleary. “I don't think I ever left that place.”
Minho didn't comfort him—not with his words, but his thumb rubbed soothing circles into Seungmin's numb hands. “I don't go home either,” Minho confessed quietly after the silence became unbearable. “I mean, I try not to.”
Minho leaned further and twisted till his head was on Seungmin's lap and he was mindlessly reaching up to wipe away Seungmin's tears. “My eomma passed away. It's just my appa and the cats me and my eomma had adopted. He's not… doing well, obviously, but it's just… I can't live in that environment. Whenever I go back he becomes overbearing and the house is a mess more than half the time, dirty dishes, unwashed clothes. The maids have quit and my appa simply begs me to stay.”
Minho brought his hand down to play with Seungmin's fingers as he continued. “He always wanted a daughter. It's weird. But he did. That's why, when he had me, he never really pushed me to do things guys did. But now, it's just too much. If I go there, he expects me to cook, clean, and serve him like I'm not his son but some… worker. I don't have any siblings either, so I'm pretty much stuck here.”
Seungmin knew Minho had diluted most of the story the same way he had, but he couldn't help it. He closed his eyes and leaned down so he could hug Minho. “Seungmin-ah,” Minho whispered, but his voice was quiet. “I've never told anyone about this.”
Seungmin sniffled as Minho shifted so that the embrace somewhat made sense. “Neither have I,” he confessed, his words watery.
Minho laughed wetly, punching him lightly. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
Seungmin nodded bashfully. “I could cook ramen…”
“No need, you can help me. C'mon.”
Seungmin watched Minho set his bed—now clad in grey sweatpants and a plain black shirt, the hair on his arms standing like a terrified cat. The latter put a fuzzy duvet over the bed spread before grabbing another duvet. When the dancer caught Seungmin staring, he narrowed his eyes. “I run cold,” he explained half heartedly. “I need two skins.”
Seungmin couldn't reply before Minho was tugging onto his hoodie and pulling him by his hoodie's pocket. Seungmin yelped for a moment but shut himself up when Minho manhandled him till they were lying face to face on the bed. “Pull the duvet,” Minho commanded as he turned to turn the lights off.
Seungmin complied and when his head hit the pillows, Minho's arms found their purchase on his hips. Even in the dim light that seeped through the curtains outside, Minho shone.
He had from their bus ride together.
“You're beautiful,” Seungmin blurted.
“Why thank you, do you enjoy addressing me directly?” Minho asked, his tone clearly teasing.
“Well, someone hasn't been keen on telling me their age,” Seungmin mumbled. “You look like you're still twenty-one.”
“Flattery,” Minho droned, lightly headbutting Seungmin’s chin. “You're pretty too.”
Seungmin scrunched his nose and Minho leaned up to kiss it. “You're kissable,” Seungmin added.
Minho hummed and bumped their noses together. “Yeah?” he asked. “How so?”
Seungmin brought their lips to meet again, careful but strong. “Mhm,” Minho hummed. “You're good. I'm almost jealous of those who've given you practice.”
“You're good too,” Seungmin said quickly. “At least you will be if you bother initiating the kiss.”
Minho kissed him at that moment, propping himself up on his elbow as his other hand cupped Seungmin's cheek. It was still sweet and innocent, like a teenage couple simply experiencing the bounds that they weren't to break yet. “Minho-ya,” Seungmin whispered.
Minho pulled away from the kiss to look down at Seungmin with unprecedented adoration before he dove down to kiss him again. “Seungmin-ah.”
Seungmin prayed for the night to become perpetual.
+1
“So,” Felix began, standing in Seungmin's doorway. “Could I respectfully kick you out to Chan hyung's dorm?”
“I don't know,” Seungmin snarked, narrowing his eyes. “Could you?”
“I mean, I'm not against voyeurism, Seungminnie. It was you who didn't like hearing things, if I remember correctly.”
Seungmin groaned and threw himself back on his bed. He hadn't spoken to Minho ever since break ended, but he'd been meaning to, it wasn't like he had actively avoided him. “Okay, okay, my lovely Seungmin-ah, tell hyung what's going on,” Felix cooed, walking over to Seungmin's bed before collectively flopping on it with Seungmin trapped under.
“Nothing is,” Seungmin mumbled. “Really. Get off hyung, I have to grab clothes.”
Felix snickered and hung off Seungmin's shoulders as the taller man got to search through his closet, grabbing an extra hoodie and pair of socks and walking over to stuff them into the bag he usually took to his lectures. “I mean, you love your space, so I guess it's a win for you. You could take Chan hyung's Mac book too,” Felix said, winking. “Deal?”
Seungmin didn't hesitate. “Deal.”
“Alright, let's go, I'll drop you off,” Felix beamed, making grabby hands once Seungmin had gotten all his essentials together. “And pick Chan hyung up.”
“I don't know how I should feel about you two doing this so you can fuck.”
“Ah, shush.”
Seungmin blinked a few times as he stared at the dorm door. This was Chan's dorm? There was no way. There was some arguing inside when Felix banged on the door unceremoniously, calling Chan out.
“Yeah, yeah! Go get your booty call,” an extremely familiar voice scoffed. “Leave me with some stranger—”
“I didn't think you'd be here!” Chan's voice protested as he opened the door for Felix.
Seungmin held his breath as the arguments inside instantly seized. Minho, who was standing against the foyer with a seemingly petulant pout, immediately dropped the hands that'd been against his chest. “Seungmin-ah?”
Chan slapped his forehead. “Happy?” he asked Minho, more so over exasperated.
Seungmin scratched his nape and glanced in between Chan and Minho. “Both of you are roommates… then the room that Chan hyung—”
“Oh, that's the extra room just lying there. Bambam and a few others weren't there so I took you two there,” Chan explained. “I used to room with them just a while back when I wasn’t assigned to this dorm. It’s spacious, that's why.”
Seungmin tried to nod through Chan’s explanation, but he finally gave up, unable to bear the awkwardness in between all of them. “Will you go?” Minho asked bluntly, thankfully voicing Seungmin's thoughts. “You’re literally discussing your life story in the hallway, hyung, isn’t that a bit lame?”
“Minho hyung, why are you so mean?” Felix grumbled, pouting.
“Oh, I don’t mean to be rude to you, Yongbokkie,” Minho sighed. “I’d rather Seungmin-ah not freeze outside.”
Chan made a face and Seungmin found himself being pulled inside, him and Chan exchanging places easily. “Enjoy your time, hyung!” Minho called, slamming the door close as Chan flipped him off.
Seungmin waited for Minho to lean against the door and finally look at him before bursting into laughter. Felix had called Minho scary, intimidating, crazy , the list was boundless to the point Seungmin had considered shutting him up.
Minho’s lips quirked upwards with every passing moment of Seungmin’s reaction. “What?” he asked, walking over to Seungmin to poke his side, helping the younger man out of his bag straps. “What’s gotten you so giddy?” he asked as he tossed Seungmin's bag on the couch.
“You’re scary,” Seungmin giggled. “Intimidating too!”
“Seung—”
“That’s why they didn’t fuck here,” Seungmin sputtered, unable to stop laughing as he leaned onto Minho.
Minho stared at him dumbfoundedly before sighing heartily. “Yeah,” he hummed, amused. “I am scary.”
Seungmin calmed himself down and looked up at Minho meekly. “If I knew you were the roommate I’d have crashed here long before.”
“I don’t think I’d have liked you very much,” Minho mumbled, crowding Seungmin against the wall next to the bed they’d slept in. “I like my space very much.”
Seungmin glanced at the other man’s lips, and then at the exposed collar bones. For once, he’d gotten Minho in a place where the other wasn’t too distinguished—instead he wore a loose overused shirt that reached to his thighs and black sweatpants. “You seem to like my space as well,” he mumbled.
The wall felt cold against his back when Minho pressed him against it, leaning in closer with every passing moment. “Of course I do,” he whispered. “I always have.”
Seungmin blinked. “What?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Minho grumbled. “Do you remember the senior youth performance competition? During your high school years? Our school had gotten to province level—I was on the dance crew; your performance was the last of the sonatas before mine.”
Seungmin tilted his head in confusion and Minho closed his eyes in frustration. “Hyunjin-ah was on my team. He told me about you—I was there when we went out to get a barbeque but you were an antisocial maniac.”
Seungmin pinched his brows together as he pieced together his memory. “Wait,” he paused, then cupped Minho’s face in between his hands. “You had glasses back then. You weren’t tall or built—”
“Oh now you’re just mocking me—”
“No! I mean,” Seungmin muttered, glancing at Minho awkwardly. “What was there to say? I didn’t know you’d tagged along for me or anything. I assumed that you were one of Hyunjin hyung’s associates. Hyung knows everyone, and sometimes they just come by.”
“Okay, valid,” Minho agreed. “But I sat next to you back then, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter that you’d completely ignored my existence despite me putting meat for you—”
“I was putting meat on you too!”
“Then who was eating?”
Both of them sighed at the collective understanding at Hyunjin's antics. “But what I mean to say is, you disappeared after that—I thought I’d see you at some point through Hyunjinnie, but I never did. At least, not until I ran into you on the bus.”
“So you decided to repeat history?”
“Why not? It’s not like you've gotten any less adorable. You still have that skittish vibe to you.” Minho dropped his head to kiss Seungmin’s jaw. “I knew the only way to make you remember me was to make your space as good as mine.”
“The others told me you hate skinship,” Seungmin breathed cautiously as Minho’s hands stilled on his waist.
Minho bumped their foreheads together, something Seungmin realized was like second nature to the latter. “I do,” Minho admitted. “Not when I’m touching something that belongs to me, though.”
“Minho!”
“It’s Minho hyung , yeobo,” Minho hummed, pinching Seungmin’s cheek.
“I don’t care. You can’t just say things like that,” Seungmin mumbled. “The whole… belonging thing—”
“And why can’t I?” Minho asked, caressing Seungmin’s cheek, making it incredibly hard for the younger to not look at his face.
Seungmin deflated a little as he scrunched his nose. “Because,” he began, then paused, exhaling out of his nose. “We’re not dating—you can’t just stake that claim and then be all normal—”
“That’s funny because I was thinking of asking you out tomorrow,” Minho interrupted him. “Hoping it would be on the bus. I heard from Felixie that you were going back to your apartment—”
Seungmin kissed him before he continued rambling. “You're adorable,” he whispered, pulling away the slightest.
Minho smiled as he pressed their lips together again and dragged Seungmin back to his bed, easily manhandling the smaller man so that he was lying on his back, hair fanned out on the pillow as he stared up at Minho with pure fondness. “God,” Minho gasped. “I waited so long to have you— shit , I just want to mark you all up and—”
Seungmin could feel a heat coil in his abdomen and he groaned. “Do your worst,” he huffed, glancing up at Minho.
“Oh aegi, I was already thinking of that.” Minho bumped their noses together. “How far do you want to go?”
Seungmin bit his lower lip. “I've never had sex with a guy—I know how it works, obviously, but I've never done it,” he mumbled. “I'm okay with going all through, but as long as you tell me what to do.”
Minho nodded in acknowledgement as he sat on Seungmin’s lap and looked down at him. “I'd love to fuck you,” he mumbled, but then glanced at Seungmin's fingers. “But I've heard pianists have impeccable control on their fingers. Should we put that theory to test?”
Seungmin swallowed as Minho pulled his shirt off his head, leaving him shirtless as he bent down to kiss Seungmin. He was toned, biceps much bigger than what his loose shirts gave credit for. As Seungmin stared unabashedly, his eyes raked over Minho’s torso, he wasn’t exactly jacked like Chan, but his abdominal muscles were defined, seen faintly in the dingy dorm lighting—a scar ran horizontally and Seungmin absentmindedly thumbed at it.
That seemed to test Minho’s patience. “Off,” he demanded, dragging the younger man to sit up.
“Okay, okay,” Seungmin laughed when Minho's hands got too eager that they ended up fumbling with the hems. “I got it, relax.”
Minho grumbled and pushed Seungmin back with his hands still stuck in his hoodies’ sleeves. “Minho!” Seungmin yelped, throwing his head back when Minho’s thumb grazed his nipple, drawing torturously slow circles around it. Heat pooled in the pits of his stomach, goosebumps slowly trickling down his spine. He quivered, his joints suddenly feeling like jello. He hadn’t expected to be touched directly, much less like this.
“What?” Minho asked, kissing along Seungmin's collar and down to his pecs. He paused right over Seungmin’s heart and nipped down, sucking on the skin there for a few minutes before pulling away and marveling. “You bruise easily, Seungmin-ah.”
“Great observation—”
“Off,” Minho interrupted again, lifting Seungmin up the slightest to help him get out of his pants. “I love your thighs.”
Seungmin barely got a moment to respond before Minho dragged him towards him by his knees and pressed a kiss to his inner thighs, making the younger man shiver. “Mine,” Minho whispered.
Seungmin laughed breathily. “You're like a cat. Marking your territory.” He petted Minho’s hair, only to throw his head back when Minho nipped at the skin.
“Have you fingered yourself before, Seungminnie?” Minho asked, lying back on the obnoxious amount of pillows that Seungmin never accounted for until the given moment.
“I have,” Seungmin replied, uncapping the bottle of lube and squirting some on his fingers. Both of them were completely naked and Seungmin could only feel his cheeks heat up at the prospect of Minho writhing under him. “But you still have to talk to me, got it?”
Minho hummed, tracing Seungmin’s shoulder. “Of course.”
With a slow inhale, Seungmin traced Minho’s rim with his lubed finger. “Has anyone else ever done this to you?” Seungmin asked quietly, taking in every expression on Minho’s face as his finger slowly entered the latter.
Minho’s brows pinched together and he shook his head. “I usually top—I don’t let people do it to me.”
Seungmin swallowed the feeling of possessiveness that crept to his throat, rendering him breathless as he entered his finger fully and moved it the slightest. “Good?” he checked.
“Mhm, yeah,” Minho mumbled, scrunching his brows. “You can add another, aegi.”
Seungmin let Minho get used to one finger before he bothered with the next. “You’re taking me well,” he praised, biting his lips when he noticed Minho’s cock twitching at his words.
“Move your fucking fingers, oh my god,” Minho rushed, punching Seungmin’s shoulder when he noticed him staring.
Seungmin chuckled and curved his fingers upwards, huffing in amusement when Minho’s back arched. “You’re really expressive,” Seungmin mumbled, making a pace with his fingers.
“That’s… that’s a first,” Minho exhaled sharply, breathless. “God, your hands…”
“If I were smarter, I’d say you like my hands a tad bit too much, hyung.”
“You—”
Seungmin curved his fingers against Minho’s prostate and could feel pride swell at the other’s aborted cry. He slowly eased a third finger in and began pumping them in and out. “Tell me how you feel, Minho-ya.”
“Good— good , Seungmin-ah. Just like that,” Minho whispered. “I think I’m ready.”
“Are you sure—”
“If you don’t dick me down right now I think I’ll combust. I’m sure, dammit,” Minho rushed, scrunching his nose.
Seungmin slowly pulled his fingers out and reached over to kiss Minho as he grabbed the condom from the bedside drawer. “You know it's really intimidating when you watch me,” Seungmin huffed, tearing the package before rolling it over his length.
Minho blinked at him a few times before smiling. “Then hurry up?”
“Why yes, my highness,” Seungmin quipped as he lubed himself before pausing. “Tell me when to stop.”
“Aishi, you're a real gentleman, but right now if you—”
Seungmin hummed in amusement as he lined himself up with Minho's entrance, reading each expression as he pressed the head of his cock inside. Minho sucked in a breath and pulled a face when Seungmin paused. “I can take it,” Minho reminded him.
“And we have time,” Seungmin whispered as he pressed himself in further. If Minho was flustered previously, he seemed wrecked by the time Seungmin bottomed out. “You're taking me so well, Minho-ya.”
Minho laughed breathily. “Am I?” he asked, sucking in a sharp breath. “ God , you're big.”
Seungmin let his fingers wrap around Minho's waist, digging his fingers into the soft skin as he grinded his cock against Minho's walls. Minho let out a soft sigh. “Move.”
And who was Seungmin to deny? He built up a pace quickly, focusing solely on getting Minho off.
Minho’s eyes rolled back as he tried to match Suengmin’s pace. “You’re doing amazing, but I really want to see you underneath me,” Minho punched out, grabbing Seungmin’s arm to tell him to slow down.
Seungmin watched as Minho guided him back until his back was resting on the bunch of pillows placed haphazardly as Minho crawled over him and lined himself back up with Seungmin’s dick. “Fuck, you’re hot,” Minho huffed, grinding down on Seungmin before he grinned down at the younger. “Any premonitions about dancers?”
Minho didn’t wait for his answer as he slowly propped himself up on his knees and then sank back down, making Seungmin gasp. Minho was tight, and with the angle, he could see the slight outline of himself in Minho every time the elder sank down.
The sheer look of ecstasy in Minho’s eyes had Seungmin’s stomach coiling impossibly tight. “You’re—you’re such a service top, Seungminnie,” Minho groaned, “Making me do all the work—”
Seungmin wrapped his hands around Minho’s waist and stilled him for a moment, just enough for Minho to open his mouth to complain before guiding him back down, building a pace at his own will. “Ah… ah! Seungmin-ah, I’m close–”
“Me too, hyung,” Seungmin winced, his hips automatically moving faster and harder, his grip on Minho’ waist only getting tighter with each thrust. Minho bent over him, trying to support himself with his hands at either side of Seungmin’s shoulders, whimpering softly.
“You’re so beautiful, Minho hyung,” Seungmin whispered, letting go of one of his hands resting on Minho’s waist to cup his cheek. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“All yours. All yours,” Minho moaned, but by the way his eyes were flashing to Seungmin’s, he seemed to be fixated on how wrecked Seungmin looked, “Please, I’m close.”
Seungmin took his hand away from Minho’s cheek and wrapped it around his neglected cock instead. “Come on, Minho-ya. You’ve done so well.”
Minho’s movements became sloppier, losing their previous rhythm and it was Seungmin who was left guiding their last momentum. He rocked into Minho deeply, pressing against him just right, and smiling when Minho cried out as he came across Seungmin’s hand with a muffled sob.
Seungmin thrusted into him a few more times before he spilled inside Minho, filling him up. He fucked them through their highs until they were both panting against each other, bone tired to function any more than they already had exerted. Seungmin kissed Minho deeply as he pulled out, sitting them up so he could clumsily tie the knot and throw the used condom into the bin near Minho’s desk.
Minho pulled away from the kiss, making Seungmin chase his lips. “You’re cute,” Minho laughed tiredly as he picked himself up and reached over Seungmin to grab the tissue dispenser.
“I don’t have the energy to shower,” Seungmin grumbled instead, absentmindedly letting Minho clean his hand and toss the tissue across the room, right into the dustbin by Chan’s desk. “That’s for him not telling me you were the roommate .”
Minho flopped his weight on Seungmin and shuffled till the crumpled duvet was over him. “Get in here,” he demanded, immediately clinging onto Seungmin when he slipped under the duvet. “Mhm.”
“Can I mark you once?” Seungmin blurted.
Minho opened one eye, clearly already drifting off to sleep. “I’m your canvas. Go ahead,” he said sleepily.
Possessiveness and pride swelled and bubbled in Seungmin’s stomach as he kissed Minho’s forehead before bringing his lips to Minho’s neck, nipping on the skin softly. “Mhh,” Minho hummed, scratching lightly down Seungmin’s smile. “Was that good?” he asked, resting his hand in the hair at the base of Seungmin’s neck.
“Perfect,” Seungmin replied, pulling away to admire his small handiwork. “ You were.”
Minho smiled, his eyes still almost closed. “I like you.”
“I like you too,” Seungmin whispered, tucking Minho’s hair away from his eyes. “Though I feel like you love me partially.”
“Mhm… I love your hands more than you.”
“Asshole.”
Minho didn’t change— they didn’t change. Dating was something that they told others, but within their own dynamic, nothing changed. Minho still played out the role of the stranger meeting Seungmin for the first time the next day when Seungmin was going back to his apartment.
He didn’t press to go there right away, but around a month later, his sister called him for the baby naming ceremony, and since the dance rooms were under renovation, he managed to drag Minho with him as well.
The ceremony was held in the apartment Seungmin frequented, meaning it was as good as spotless, giving his sister less trouble to decorate the place with her husband.
When he told his sister about their relationship after the ceremony, she burst into tears and hugged the both of them. "I'm so happy for you, Seungmin-ah," she whispered. "I was so worried how the whole thing had impacted you—I was scared you'd push everyone away."
Seungmin simply held her as she continued to ramble about her day with him. When he glanced over her shoulder, he saw her sister's husband handing Minho the baby to hold on the bed—the little thing cooing and thumping her tiny fists against Minho’s chin.
And then Minho looked up at him and smiled, so softly that it had Seungmin's eyes welling up. "Noona," he whispered. "Thank you for getting us out all those years back. I don't think I've ever explicitly told you that."
"You're an idiot, that's what you are," she sighed, pulling away to wipe both of their faces with the sleeve of her sweater. "Our Haena-ya seems to like Minho-ya."
Haena let out another soft coo as she kicked her legs and giggled, making Minho rock her gently in his arms. "She's precious," he whispered. "And beautiful."
"Comes from my wife," her sister's husband mused, smiling at his daughter. "Will you both stay the night?"
Minho glanced at Seungmin with glassy eyes and Seungmin relented. "If it's not an inconvenience—"
"Bullshit, I have so much to tell you," his sister interjected.
"I didn't know you were this good with kids," Seungmin said, sitting down on the bed that Minho was laying on, staring at the ceiling.
"I didn't know either," Minho mumbled. "But there's just something about seeing a child like that—sure their a piece of work, but it's simply so marvelous to see something so warm. Haena-ya does go after her name."
"I was surprised when they chose a pure Korean name. It could be maehyung's idea since he's a literature enthusiast," Seungmin mumbled, grabbing the duvet and throwing it over them.
Minho hummed and turned on the bed when Seungmin came to lie next to him. "It makes me feel this weird happiness seeing her laugh. It's like I want to protect her brightness."
Seungmin chuckled. "I think it's natural. The world's a pretty shitty and dark place. We're naturally drawn towards what shines."
Minho pressed his head to Seungmin's chest and gave a tired nod. "I suppose."
"Minho hyung," Seungmin began, "When I first saw you in the bus, it was the first thing that came to my mind. You stood out from the general depressed crowd that came in. It's... I guess I'm just like another leech that was drawn to you."
"You have an interesting way of putting allusions," Minho grumbled and reached his hand to pinch Seungmin's cheek. "I want to live lazily once I retire."
"How old are you again?"
"Shut up. Let me talk."
Seungmin smiled when Minho pursed his lips. "Okay."
"I want to spend my life next to you. I don't care in what pretense... But I just want you to be there," Minho whispered. "You may think of yourself as a leech but I suppose you shone to some extent for me to search for you."
Seungmin smiled and knocked their foreheads together. "You're lovely," he said. "I don't think anyone made as much sense as you anyways."
"Yeah, I hope so, 'cuz I heard you and Hyunjin had something going on during your high school days."
"You're trusting teen hormones in this?"
"Making sure I'm the best fit."
Seungmin kissed Minho's nose. "I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you as well."
Minho smiled as he kissed Seungmin's cheek and then his lips, humming in content.
I love you felt pathetic in front of what Minho had just admitted. Seungmin closed his eyes and threw his arm over Minho's side as he breathed in deep. Words were always less on his part, but no matter where Minho would be, he'd make sure to be next to him no matter what.
"Good night, tomorrow I'll take you to the aquarium that you've been wanting to see," Minho said, half asleep. "Jisungie got tickets and gave me two."
Seungmin smiled. "Oh, what a coincidence. Hyunjin hyung gave me two cat cafe coupons."
The underbelly was rubbed as they both smiled with their eyes closed. Jisung didn't like aquariums and Hyunjin was allergic to cats.