Hits Different - Chapter 1 - itaire (2024)

Chapter Text

"I want to die," Felix cries for the umpteenth time, cradling a bottle of whisky. "How did this happen? How did I not know?"

"You had us block the three of them that night you got so drunk you were convinced you could legally change your zodiac sign," Jeongin grimaces. "It would be weird if we heard about it."

"I told you it would bite you in the ass," Seungmin says, taking a swig of his beer.

Minho keeps quiet, wiping down the counter.

He has no idea what this is about- Felix was already crying his heart out under the bar when he made it back from the staff room. He's too sleepy to point it out. One of them will figure it out soon enough, anyway. And if they don't, he will whine about it tomorrow.

Felix eats his hand to suffocate a scream.

"This is worse than a nightmare! What's worse than a nightmare?"

"Hell?"

"You're not helping, Seungmin," Jeongin says with a grimace.

"Please," Seungmin says, mouth smiling around the bottleneck, "if you've got anything that would help, feel free to contribute."

Jeongin's silence is merciless. His mouth a straight, pressed line, he reaches out for Seungmin to hand him his beer.

For a minute, Felix's muffled cries of agony are the only sound in the empty bar, other than the occasional rush of a car out in the streets. It's a little past 4am, and Minho is feeling it. The silence makes it worse. He yawns and stretches like a cat, hands right in front of him and nose scrunching.

Startled by the noise, Seungmin stares at him, floppy bleached hair falling into his vacant eyes.

Wordlessly, he slides his phone towards Minho.

It's open on the Instagram page of another bar. Minho blinks at it. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do with it.

Jeongin opens the stories and keeps his finger on the screen.

Three sweaty men lit by neon lights are looking at him in front of a floor packed with people. They're holding up gang signs. One of them has his tongue out of his mouth for absolutely no reason at all. 3racha for a sold-out venue!!, claims a sparkling pink font.

Minho blinks. He still doesn't know what he's supposed to do with this.

"Bang Chan," Jeongin lists. "Seo Changbin. Han Jisung."

It's 4am and Minho's memory is notoriously bad. By all means, the names should ring hollow. And yet.

He folds over the counter and laughs, mouth wide open in glee, pitch going up with each ah. Felix wails even harder.

"Please, go ahead," Jeongin sighs. "Make it worse."

"As if it could get worse," Minho wheezes. "He f*cked the whole band!"

"Don't say it!" Felix shouts. "Just because it's true you don't have to say it!!"

"They tanked the name, though," Seungmin says, his mouth twitching. "The Felixf*ckers was right there."

Jeongin laughs too this time. Maniacally. He spits half the mouthful of beer on Minho, but he doesn't care. All he cares about are The Felixf*ckers. He howls in laughter and collapses under the bar, too.

"Minho," Felix cries, ditching the whiskey to hug Minho's arm. "It hurts. When will it stop hurting?"

Minho would like to know, too. His sides are in stitches. Maybe he'll pass out, he's already on the floor.

"Take a nap," he suggests, wiping tears away from the corner of his eyes. "It won't hurt while you're asleep."

"I can't." He headbutts Minho's shoulders.

"Yeah, he shouldn't," Seungmin says. "He might dream about f*cking them. All at the same time."

"Shut up!" Felix yells, voice straight out of the depths of the Mariana trench. "Shut up shut up shut up!"

"I'm going to unblock them," Jeongin says. "I need to know more about this."

Minho claps his hand over Felix's mouth. He might create an Instagram account himself just to keep tabs on The Felixf*ckers. He laughs again, but he doesn't have sounds in him anymore.

He yawns.

"You're old," Seungmin reminds him. "Oh, they played Levanter. Cool."

He must be scrolling through Instagram, too. Minho feels left out, so he steals Felix's phone from his pocket and squeezes his ass while he's at it.

"That doesn't help me feel better," Felix yelps.

"It helps me feel more awake," Minho smiles, searching for the 3racha account.

They played a lot of places, judging by their feed. Most of it is reels and blurry selfies from the stage. One of the better-lit selfies grabs Minho's attention: two men are a hair away from kissing the cheek of the third one, whose mouth is cutely hanging open. He taps the pictures to put a face to the names. He frowns.

"What is a SpearB?"

"Changbin," Seungmin says. "By far the hottest."

"Excuse me?" Jeongin chokes. "Chan is right there. CB97." He adds for Minho's benefit.

Which leaves the smooching victim, J.One, to be Han Jisung.

He's by far the best looking, his hair black and swept away from his face, a carefully mixed co*cktail of round and straight flavors. Red berry juice and chili. He’d take a sip.

He can't say that out loud.

Han Jisung is the one who got away. The man who had Felix turning up to work with a duffle bag full of clothes asking if he could spend the night in the staff room. It was his second week on the job and Minho didn't hesitate to scoop him up and bring him back to his own apartment, as any respectable experienced catnapper would do.

It's been a year and a half, maybe closer to two, but the wound is still fresh.

He can tell because he knows all about how it ended with Changbin, who strung Felix along for his first two years of college, and Chan, who was the perfect boyfriend up until he dumped him with an eighteen-second phone call, but he still only knows Han as who he was before the break-up. Felix’s best friend. The last laugh at a party. The splash of a water gun on a scorching summer day. A twin sun.

So, no, he can't say Han Jisung is the hottest one.

It's probably not true, anyway- he could have the kind of face that only works with a flattering angle and a smoothing filter slapped over it. Minho would hate to have to eat his words.

What he can and will say is:

"You really like f*ckboys, hm?"

Felix squeals.

"I don't! They- I-" He hits Minho with a kitty punch. "Shut up!"

Music starts playing abruptly. It's loud and noisy, recorded from the floor, but the very fast rap is still perfectly audible.

"I maintain my point," Seungmin says. "Seo is the hottest."

Jeongin huffs.

Felix sniffles with less abandonment.

"How does something like this happen," he says in tiny, deep voice resonating through Minho's chest. "How do you only date three people and they all join a band together?"

"They all work at the same company," Jeongin answers right away like it was a logistical question rather than an existential one. "They're music producers."

"Real ones?" Seungmin asks, impressed. "Like, credited ones?" A stretch of silence. "Oh."

Some credits must have been scrolled.

Minho googles them. Oh indeed. They have a very barebone Wikipedia page, but the names are there. It's not A-list singers, but some songs made it big enough that even Minho, chronically off-line and late to the trends, knows of them.

His eyes fall on Hyune's name, Yellow Wood's own former indie sensation. Who Minho knows thanks to Felix. Who blasted his music 24/7 for a month. Music meaning three professionally published singles and one EP. All produced by his exes.

Minho laughs again.

There's something about laughing at 4am that sounds particularly wild. Bold. Like the laugh itself knows it should be quiet and it loves disregarding it.

"What?" Felix asks, tired. "What is it now?"

Either Jeongin or Seungmin plays Hyune's debut single- a heart-wrenching ballad with a hypnotic rap verse that Minho memorized against his will.

It takes Felix a minute to understand. He might even think they're trying to be supportive, play some of his favorite music to cheer him up.

He screams.

4am screaming is less poetic than 4am laughter, it lacks the contraposition between moody night and unbridled joy, but it tends to be a good time anyway.

🐱

Life goes on, it appears, even when all of your exes sell out bar venues with their gigs.

While Felix had them blocked, it appears they gathered somewhat of a following. They're not big names by any means, but they've got local groupies and fan sites. It doesn't hurt that they're all Korean and the K-poppers go crazy, Minho guesses.

Korean and hot, but they don't acknowledge that, not on opening shifts, while the sun still shines through the windows.

"How long?" Seungmin asks out of the blue, restocking beers in the fridge.

Jeongin slaps a hand on Minho's mouth before he can answer in inches.

"I don't know what he's asking, but it's not that," he assures him. "Care to give us a full sentence, Seungmin?"

Minho licks Jeongin's palm and keeps cleaning the ice machine.

"How long until their manager contacts us," he says, unbothered. "The Felixf*ckers, I mean. We're one of the biggest venues in town. Mysteriously so."

"Hey," Minho calls him out, holding up the ice scraper. "I used to put in effort before my old age hindered me."

"You're turning twenty-eight," Jeongin says, displeased.

"Ancient," Seungmin grumbles happily. "Do you think we should contact them ourselves?"

Silence settles in the empty bar.

It's a rather mischievous one.

"I mean," Jeongin says, eyes wide and mouth in a straight line. "It's just a matter of time before it happens."

"I'm guessing you already have a draft."

"Who do you think I am?" Seungmin smiles, for once not hiding behind his hand. "I was drafting it the night we found out."

Minho loves only one dog, and it's the most dangerous puppy in the world. Not that he will ever admit to it.

"Forward it to my business mail. I'm sending it tonight."

🐱

It takes a while before 3racha's management gets back to them. Just enough that they start badmouthing them and making fun of them for having a big ego.

Turns out 3racha's management is just Chan himself, who apologizes for taking so long to write back and gives Minho his personal number and a time range to contact him.

P.s.: love the mail handle ahah, the mail says right before his business formal send-off. Tlinosaurus strikes again.

The council convenes three business days is an appropriate time window to let him wait.

Luckily, every day is a business day for bar owners and musicians. Minho calls Chan on a Sunday, the second Felix is out the door to get to his dance rehearsals.

"Bang Chan here," he answers in Aussie.

"I'm Lee Minho of 0325," he says, sporting a perfected customer voice. Little does Chan know he's sprawled on the floor in his underwear and sleep t-shirt, balancing a box of Japanese take-out leftovers on his chest. "You said you were interested in playing at the venue?"

Chan is a pleasure to talk to. He's personable but doesn't beat around the bush, and when Minho tests him with a little weird segue here and there, cold gyoza between his teeth, Chan snickers rather than be put off by it.

Suddenly Minho is very curious about that break-up call. He had always imagined it messy, but now he can't help but think it came with cordial time-stamps of all their red flags.

They agree for Chan to drop by in two days’ time around 4:30pm, before the bar opens. Minho is still on the call when he texts Seungmin to clear Felix's schedule at all costs.

"Oh," Chan says when they're about to hang up. "In case something comes up, would you like to reschedule or should I just send one of the boys?"

"One for all and all for one," Minho cat smiles. "Send them away."

Chan giggles, a little embarrassed Minho would quote his own lyrics to him.

Lyrics Minho only knows because Seungmin blasts The Felixf*ckers in the car anytime he drives Minho home from work. Minho doesn't even know who is singing what.

Well, now he knows who the Aussie is.

🐱

Something comes up.

For the joy of one Kim Seungmin, who's growing more likely to become a fansite by the hour, SpearB shows up in a biker jacket and aviator sunglasses. As always, Seungmin's joy is inscrutable. Perhaps it's even giving a little annoyed to the untrained eye. Especially after Minho sends him to the back when he takes two chairs off a table and sits down with Changbin.

"Sorry," Changbin sighs with an apologetic smile. "Getting hold of Chan is like catching a ghost."

"Both unlikely and unsatisfactory?" He blinks. "Even with video evidence people will believe you're either a liar, mentally unstable, or have way too much free time and editing skills?"

Changbin makes a loud, high-pitched laugh that goes surprisingly well with his demeanor.

"Say," he says. "You really want 3racha to play this place? You're kind of a big deal. We were going to wait a few months to slide into your DMs."

"We have a dedicated fan on site. Kim Seungmin!"

Something emerges from the back room.

"What?" He barks politely.

"Nothing," Minho smiles. "I was just telling Changbin you're a fan. Go back to work."

Seungmin raises whatever maintenance tool he's got in his hand, but slams the door behind him.

"He's our puppy," Minho explains. "He's not well behaved but he's well trained."

Changbin laughs again. Minho crosses his legs and subtly stretches his back in feline satisfaction.

"You were flattering my business."

"It's not flattery. There's a reason why we keep selling out venues, and that's because we keep them small. This place is big. Didn't you just have The Black Dogs doing a gig the other night?"

Minho bares his teeth.

"We also had Canine Fever."

Changbin leans over the table.

"Who?"

"Exactly. I said I don't mind dogs one time and our youngest has made it a mission to book every dog-themed band he comes across. Point is," he smiles resting his chin on his palm. "We mostly hire people because of memes."

Changbin's eyes widen a little, his mouth resisting a smile.

"So what's our meme?"

Minho raises both of his eyebrows, smiles like a cat.

"Wouldn't you love to know."

Changbin seems both worried and entertained.

"Well, if you don't mind having a little space on the floor, we're game." He takes his phone out of his jacket. "Chan sent me a footlong note of questions, but if you don't mind I'll just make up the answers."

"Feel free," Minho says, laying back on his chair. "We don't really have any requirements. Just let me know how long your set will be. Or not. The puppy is always ready to break out the DJ set."

"He mixes?"

"Attempts to."

Changbin laughs again, even if he doesn't stop scrolling down Chan's questions.

"We usually do a two-hour set. Our originals, some covers, some solo stages somewhere in the middle, if we feel like it."

"Tell me when your solo stage is in advance. I have to know when to send Seungmin to the back and accidentally lock him in."

"Hey, don't lock my groupies away! I like them."

He f*cks them, too. Used to, anyway. Maybe it's not fair to hold Changbin accountable for his college antics. He is, by Minho's standards, the most forgivable Felix f*cker, which is why he smiles and says:

"But consider. He'll go rabid and insist on a solo encore. Possibly hold everyone hostage until he gets it, too."

Changbin seems satisfied with that.

They compare schedules and find an opening on the third of July, three months from now. It's a very convenient time slot: they will have released their first full album by then and launched new merch designs. Minho definitely didn't cross out another band on the calendar to make space for them.

"It's been a pleasure," Changbin smiles with the kind of solid, firm handshake that people built careers upon before you could Google search your prospect partners.

The second he's out of the bar, Seungmin decides to show his face.

"I'll get you a dog for your birthday," he threatens him. "You'll get attached and you won't get rid of it and you'll officially be a dog owner. Why would you put me on the spot like that."

Minho just pets him with a knowing smile.

He gets kneed in the back of the leg. Rather than hitting back, he cries injury, rolling on the floor like a soccer player until he's tired of screaming. Only then he knees Seungmin back so hard that he almost falls to the ground.

🐱

Rather than accepting that 3racha is becoming unavoidable now that they're becoming a thing in the vibrant indie music scene of Yellow Wood, Felix buries his head in the sand and blocks every bar in town on every social he has an account on.

"I just can't do it," he whines in Aussie while he copies Minho's mixing technique with worrying precision. Now, if he only could do it without watching Minho first, there wouldn't be a line of people waiting to order something other than a vodka lemon as soon as Minho takes up his shift.

"It's traumatizing. I see one picture of them and I'm back to three different times of my life at the same time."

"Sounds intriguing."

Minho loves the sound of a good tumbling, the ice going crunchcrunchcrunch inside the shaker.

"It sounds mortifying. Especially college. I don't want to be back in college, Minho."

He sounds desperate. With good reason.

Changbin was the older lead singer of a garage band and Felix followed him around everywhere. Minho has seen pictures of him dressed like a scene kid with Changbin's rap verses written in sharpie on his t-shirts.

'I can't believe he was so nice to me,' he said once, drunk on one of Minho's new creations. Minho asked him whether he would have preferred Changbin was mean to him, and Felix looked straight into his eyes and said: "yes, Minho. Then I wouldn't have lost my virginity because I asked him to f*ck me as a goodbye gift when he graduated".

After meeting Changbin it's easier to believe he really wanted to do something nice for the awestruck younger kid who had supported him through his musical endeavors. Minho talked to the man only once, though. His first theory that he just kept Felix around to boost his ego and in the hopes to get a good f*ck out of it is still more realistic. Although 'good f*ck' might be a bit of a stretch- it was Felix’s first time and he was probably crying like a baby the whole time. Felix does look very gorgeous when he cries, but he's snotty.

"I think I could deal with it," Felix says very quietly to the funky rhythm of the ice tumbling. "If it was just Changbin and Chan."

Minho is terrible at comforting people. Especially people like Felix, who are most reassured by words. The only words Minho has are weird conclusions of fleeting internal thoughts.

He isn't great at physical contact either. Wiggles out of it like an eel. A chin scratch, though, he can give him. Felix leans into it.

"I still miss him, you know," he rumbles, vulnerable. "When the weather is gray and cloudy. He used to make it sunny for me."

Han Jisung is an asshole.

Only the worst kind of person hurts someone so much, yet leaves them unwilling to say one bad word about them.

I bet it was you that made it sunny, he would say if his tongue would let him. Instead, he just offers him a sip of the new drink.

"Hm," Felix smiles, smacking his lips. "Is it spicy berry juice? It has so much body and yet it's so refreshing. Where did this one come from?"

The face of the man who broke his heart, now that Minho thinks about it.

He smiles mysteriously.

"It's confidential. You'll learn my secrets when you become a licensed witch."

"Can't wait to pass the test and get my natural purple hair."

Felix squeezes his arm. Minho lets him hang on to it. He doesn't need his right arm anyway, likes his left more. He's always played favorites.

🐱

His phone rings as he just turns the shower off. He could yell at Felix to pick up the call for him, but it would take him more energy than walking to the living room himself. He drips a sad trail of water droplets behind him.

He finds Felix with one foot on the floor, eyes still glued to the screen but body ready to sprint to Minho's phone.

"I've got it," Minho announces, picking it up without looking at the caller ID. "Keep losing."

Minho's life flashes before his eyes.

The day he brought his childhood cat home from the shelter. His first concert. The only first kiss he remembers. Seungmin's birthday party, when they put dog ears on him and made him do cutesy dance challenges (Minho did them too, but he's not afraid of being a little silly. A little babygirl if you will. Embarrassed? Wildly. But that's half the fun.)

At least he knows when he'll die, he'll do so to his favorite memories.

"Minho? Do you hear me?"

"Yes," he replies, the auditory memory of Lovable still playing in his head. "I do."

"Oh, good." Chan continues with a wide smile in his voice.

Felix, blissfully unaware Minho almost made him pick up a phone call from his ex-boyfriend, squeezes his stress ball after yet another loss.

"Do you think we could get a booth for Saturday? It's Hyunjin's birthday and he promised us he'll get drunk with us to celebrate. Well, with the boys, I don't drink. I'll just get to watch them embarrass themselves," he giggles like a schoolgirl.

"Can't wait to witness it," Minho says in a neutral voice that won't alert the chicken. "See you on Saturday, then."

Saturday is, of course, already packed, but Minho cancels the reservation of some generous but difficult customers and texts Seungmin to take care of it. Then he texts Jeongin a blurry sticker of himself holding a knife up.

Not even a minute later, Felix is holding his cheap earphones away from his head.

"I'm working the opening shift on Saturday, Jeongin had something come up."

"Why are you telling me?" Minho complains, finally going to put on some clothes. "You know I don't give a f*ck as long as someone is behind the bar."

He's in the privacy of his own room, slipping into a pair of straight fit jeans that he's pretty sure he stole from Seungmin when he wonders whether he could blacklist Han Jisung without jeopardizing the gig.

He dismisses the thought pretty quickly. Felix won't be there to see him anyway.

🐱

Even if the 0325 crowd is desensitized to local celebrities, Hyune still causes a little commotion when he walks inside the club.

He's a local alright, but he reads a little extraneous. He dared to make numbers outside the pretentious, exclusive circle of Yellow Wood musicians, and to do so with music that isn't yet being brushed off as commercial and mainstream.

The fact he's half a head taller than 3racha and bathed in body glitter doesn’t help him escape curious glances.

Minho throws the tumbler in the air just for show while he witnesses Jeongin very professionally leading them to their booth.

He crouches behind the bar as soon as he's back. Minho has no idea what he's mumbling, thanks to Felix's low-fi playlist.

When he pops up, he's collected himself.

"Chan is peak male performance."

"Good to know," Minho says. "Care to go do your job?"

Jeongin snaps his head towards the entrance, where the bouncer is holding up a line. He puts on his foxy customer smile and makes a beeline for it.

The bar is busy, despite the floor being empty. All the tables are booked, and as soon as someone leaves their stool there's someone ready to take their place.

Changbin was right- 0325 is a big venue. And a high-profile one at that. It used to be a strip club before the old owner ran away with the love of his life leaving behind a wife and three kids, and the keys in the hands of his youngest barman. I invested too much in you to let you go to waste, the man said. Minho blinked and he was gone. Documents were signed that only lacked Minho's signature. He rolled with it. Renovated. Put singers on the stage. Somehow convinced the strippers to stop working the pole and work the floor as waitresses instead.

He worked hard enough for it so that now he could just sit back, have Felix pin a story on the Instagram page, and let the people turn up to have a good time.

He's rather proud of himself. His darling mother wouldn't agree- her approval died with the structural integrity of Minho's leg.

Speaking of his f*cked-up leg, Minho might need a break from standing. He's been leaning on the good one long enough that he feels like he’s written in italics.

People boo him when he takes off his tie and pats Seungmin on the head, but he doesn't entertain them. It's not like he's leaving them with Felix.

He's going to the back when his eye catches Hyunjin's body glitter and a very bad idea that he can't possibly turn down makes him take a turn for the Felixf*ckers.

"Minho!" Changbin waves enthusiastically. "Come sit with us! You haven't met the quokka yet."

"He hasn't met me either," Hyunjin pouts.

"Have you seen him?" Changbin points at him. "Why would I want you to meet him?"

Hyunjin laughs a shower of crystals.

"Oh, stop it."

"Ugh," the quokka says, curling up the side of his upper lip. "That's why I wanted to stay home."

"You wanted to stay home because you're an anti-social lazy f*cker," Chabgbin laughs. "Don't blame it on me and my darling prince."

Hyunjin slaps him and collapses against him.

"Here, Minho," Chan says, patting the couch beside him. "Sit with us."

Minho knows he hasn't been drinking and yet he seems the most out of it.

"Don't mind them," he says when Minho sits down in the booth, crossing his legs rather than slumping down like he longs to do. "Hyunjin likes to be spoiled and Changbin loves to spoil pretty boys. It's a match made in heaven."

"It's a match made in hell," Han Jisung says with huge, round eyes lined in smudged eyeliner. "I barely can stand Changbin on his own and now this," he waves his arm passionately. "This is what I have to deal with!"

Arms.

People have them, generally speaking. Seems gauche to show them off in a pretty sleeveless black shirt with a cheeky V-neck and wide arm holes. It's not something to be proud of, having arms.

"You could leave," he blinks.

"You've heard him!" He says, immediately standing up. "I'm free!"

Changbin pulls him down next to him, and Han Jisung yells to the void and moves his limbs around without reason.

If Minho is smiling, it's condescending.

"Come on, Hannie," Chan sweet-talks him. "Say hi like daddy taught you."

Han Jisung plants a foot in Chan's face. Socked. Shoe nowhere to be found.

Chan laughs like he knew he asked for it.

"I hate them," Han Jisung says, looking straight at Minho like he's searching for an ally. "I'm Han." Not his stage name or his legal first name. Han. "Just so you know when you read the obituary. My heart won't make it past my twenty-fifth birthday."

"You're turning twenty-six in four months," Hyunjin informs him.

Han drops dead on the couch.

They all laugh. Minho doesn't. He plays with his dangling earring, utterly uninterested.

When Han Jisung finally drops the act and laughs, ringed fingers curled over his stomach, Minho doesn't look. He doesn't notice the shape of his smile.

"Say, Minho," Chan tells him in dimples. "Changbin tells him we have fans inside the house."

"Seungmin is a devoted SpearB stan. Jeongin is more interested in your abs, I think."

Chan giggles like a tween girl while the other holler like tween boys. Minho feels like a teenager hanging out with his middle school friends in the summer, knowing he'll be a High School freshman in a few months.

"And none for Han, just like it should be," Changbin says, clapping him on the back.

"What do you know about it," Han replies. "Maybe Minho's my fan."

Everything but that. He's about to say it, when Han looks straight at him, again. The top section of his undercut is slicked back, but a single strand of black, thick hair falls across his forehead. It has to be done on purpose.

Minho blinks.

He might have lost the sense of time while he was busy judging Han for his high effort low effort hairstyle because Chan giggles, Changbin groans, and Han blushes. Just a little.

The type to dish it out but not take it.

Minho raises his eyebrows with a sly smile, lets his arm hang elegantly from his leg, elbow on his thigh.

"And what about it?"

"Uhm," Han Jisung says, astutely.

His friends are seemingly having the time of their lives.

Until Han smiles, a heart crowned by sparkling crescent moons.

"Well, I have been waiting for someone to rescue me. If you wanted to get me alone, I would say yes."

Minho isn't the type who can't take it.

He's only hesitating because surely he's not going to flirt back with Han Jisung, twin sun and breaker of hearts, so he has to find something to say that doesn't end with them sitting at the bar, alone.

His mouth hangs open for too long.

"I don't want to hear any more complaints about me and Hyunjin," Changbin snorts, both saving him and condemning him.

Han rolls his eyes, they start to bicker again, and Minho needs to bolt.

"Sorry," he says with a polite smile. "It's time to open the floor. It's been good to see you."

He hears Han shushing a whole lot of nagging while he walks back to the counter.

People cheer for him, but he's just going to the back to tell Jeongin to change the playlist. It's not going to be 10:30pm for another twenty-five minutes, but he doubts anyone will mind.

Chan, Changbin and Hyunjin are all somewhere on the floor pumping their fists up, and Han Jisung sits with their jackets.

He's curled up with his phone in one hand and a fruity beer in the other, one socked feet on the couch.

"Don't," Seungmin says, passing him by to replace an empty bottle of whiskey.

Minho throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut.

"Don't do what?"

"Han Jisung, I guess," Jeongin sighs, appearing out of nowhere. "You've been on a break for forty minutes and you spent most of it staring at him."

He opens one eye to look at Jeongin.

"He only took off one shoe," he says. "It's bothering me."

"Then go ask and take it off your mind. He's Felix's ex, remember?"

"You and Seungmin drool over his exes all the time."

It's different and they both know it.

"I won't even entertain you," Jeongin says. "Go ask about that shoe and put a stop to this."

Minho wails in soundless pain, but he does get up. He really needs to know.

"Hey," he says with a confident, casual smile. "Not one to dance?"

Han looks up from his phone with a frown, like he's not happy to be disturbed, but he breaks into a smile when he sees it's Minho. There's something shy about its brightness.

"Sometimes," he says, sitting up straighter on the couch.

Minho shouldn't sit.

He sits.

Han looks him up and down, acting like he just didn't make space for Minho to sit next to him. Or in front of, to be precise, since he's sitting with his leg folded so that his sock is pressing on his other knee.

"Hi," Minho says.

He wants to stuff his own mouth with ice.

"Hi," Han chuckles back. Then his smile gets cheeky, and Minho just knows he's about to say something silly. "Are you here for an autograph?"

Minho doesn't laugh. He barely smiles, really.

He plays with the buttons of his shirt. There's a flirty joke about him wanting that signature on his tit* hanging between them, but he resists it.

"What's up with the uneven feet?"

Han pouts like he means it.

"My heel broke. It was bound to happen since I was keeping them together with tape and words of affirmation, but it's still sad. It's my favorite pair."

That's it. Minho's got his answer. He's going to stand up and spend the break in the back alley, munching on straws.

He can't leave while Han drinks, though, it would be rude. And when he lowers the bottle, he immediately asks: "You haven't listened to a single one of our songs, have you?"

"I did," he complains. "When Seungmin forced me to."

"I hate when people force-feed me music. You're allowed to hate us and never want to listen to us again. I will only blame this Seungmin guy."

Minho gasps.

"Are you implying I would lose if we fought over who has control of the radio?"

Han sips in silence.

"I think you did it first."

Minho is outraged. He steals Han's beer from his hand.

"It was shorthand."

"Shorthand for what?"

"For I let him force me to listen to your music. I'm too sleepy to fight him after a shift, but if I did, I'd win."

"And what would you put on? If you won?"

"Baby Shark."

Han snorts. Then he closes his eyes, and laughs a little harder.

"You take no prisoners."

Funny, coming from him.

"Minho," Jeongin cordially calls him. "Seungmin needs help with the drinks."

Minho fluidly stands up from the couch, not sparing another look at Han Jisung.

He knows he's been stared at. He's made himself stare-able. Approachable. He made Han Jisung laugh rather than fear him, which wasn't smart under any definition of the word.

He's not f*cking with Han Jisung.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Jeongin sighs, stopping in front of the bar rather than following Minho behind it. "I'm starting to feel guilty."

"They would have contacted us, anyway," Seungmin reminds them, pouring out two margaritas.

"I don't mean the gig, that's funny," Jeongin says, waiting for the tray. "I mean fraternizing with them."

"I wasn't fraternizing," Minho protests. "I just wanted to know why he was wearing only one shoe."

"And now you have your answer," Jeongin smiles like a fox. "If I catch you flirting with him one more time, I'm telling Felix."

He throws his head back.

"I wasn't flirting!" He whines, while Jeongin disappears to bring someone their margaritas.

Whatever. He's not going to talk to Han Jisung ever again, anyway.

He decapitates a few limes.

"Anyone care for a real drink?"

People swarm to him like ants to honey.

"Geez, thank you, people," Seungmin mumbles, cleaning his hands on his apron.

Minho winks at him, and he makes sure to half-ass the drinks of anyone who disrespected him.

He sees Chan giving Han a piggyback ride outside the club around an hour before closing.

He danced at some point, close to the edge of the crowd and with one shoe off, fist pumping and hair flipping and singing along.

The thing, he thinks while Baby Shark plays on the radio, is that Han Jisung can be as animated and charming as he wants to- Minho knows how it ends.

"He never told you either, right?" Seungmin asks. "What happened with Han?"

Minho shakes his head, taps the windows with his knuckles.

"Weird," Seungmin says.

Then he changes to the Felixf*ckers playlist again, and Minho yells like a police siren.

🐱

Minho stares at the shoe. The shoe stares back.

It's a chunky low-cut platform boot, the leather flaky and chipped at the edges and done up with a neon green shoelace. The heel is indeed broken, sadly hanging off the sole.

IS MY SHOE THERE??, a text from an unknown number says.

Sorry this is Han

Chan gave me your number you can blame him

He'll say I stole it but he can't prove it and you'll believe me because I'm cuter 😀

I really need my shoe back 🥺

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Minho should tell him he couldn't find it.

That the cleaning company threw it out, that someone stole it, that he swears Changbin had it and must have lost it somewhere outside the club. It doesn't matter.

What matters is that he doesn't have Han's shoe.

A text comes in.

Minho blinks.

It's a selfie. Downturned eyebrows and mouth, and f*cking glimmers in his round eyes. Another emoji to add to the row.

I've got it

He didn't mean to reply. His fingers slipped.

YES

THANK YOU BABY

OMW

Thank you baby?

Uncivilized. Uncalled for. Totally unprovoked.

Minho can't help himself from sending back his favorite linowithknife.png sticker.

Han replies with a sticker of himself gasping with his hand in front of his mouth.

Ops

Force of habit

OMW x2

"Why are you on a date with a shoe?" Seungmin asks, walking in early to work for no reason at all.

"He's a boot. And I like his personality."

He touches the shoelace.

"Can't even have your shoewear be a woman, can you?"

Minho cat smiles, eyes almost closed.

"Don't be proud of it," Seungmin chastises him. "Did you recently speak to a woman that wasn't your mother?"

Telling him he hasn't spoken with his evil witch of a mother in more than six years wouldn't do him any good.

"I talked to plenty of women just yesterday."

"For anything other than work, yours or theirs."

Minho opens his mouth. Thinks really hard.

"I don't talk to a lot of men outside of work either," is the best he manages.

Seungmin sighs in, hopefully for him, fake pity. Minho smacks his ass so hard he yelps. Although that might be a reward when Seungmin is involved.

Minho actually talks to no one outside of work, he reluctantly reflects while restocking the fridge. Felix might count, at this point. He's much more of a friend than a coworker. A pet, even. He warmed his way into Minho's life like a ray of sunshine through a boarded window.

When the doorbell rings, he sends Seungmin to open the door for Han Jisung.

He'll be unapproachable. Aloof. Too beautiful and too cold not to cower in his presence.

"My baby!" Han cries, running straight to Minho.

Minho blinks.

His ears get a little warm when Han picks his shoe up and cradles it like a kitten.

"Thank you so much for rescuing it, Minho. I owe you. I'd offer to write a song for you but I know you won't listen to it."

Han smiles like it isn't something precious. It's contagious.

"Selling yourself short, I see."

"Please repeat it to Changbin." Han's eyes sparkle. "He's convinced I'm powered by arrogance. His world will shatter."

Minho raises one eyebrow.

"Is he wrong?"

Han blushes just a little, but his words are so factual that Minho doubts they are the source of the color on his cheeks.

"False modesty doesn't do you any good. I'm the first to admit it when I fall short, I'll admit when I'm good, too." He shoves his hair out his eyes. It isn’t styled, falling in his eyes in floppy waves. "Like, my voice. It's a pretty common tone, so I work hard to make it interesting. Songwriting, though?" He leans on the counter. "That's where I'm at."

Minho isn't sure where he's at.

"Do you succeed?" He asks. Han frowns like he's actively trying to understand what Minho means rather than waiting for an explanation.

His eyes go a little round.

"In making my voice interesting, you mean?"

Minho nods. He doesn't blink.

"Well," Han grips the counter with both hands, wider than his shoulders. He leans into them, a grin on his lips. "I won't lie, and I won't admit Changbin is right either. Make of that what you will."

Minho won't make anything of it.

He will, apparently, open his mouth to say:

"You do realize if I actually listen to your songs and I think they're hideous, all this talking will be very embarrassing for you, right?"

Berry blush on berry cheeks.

"I think it will be more embarrassing for you to have sh*t taste, so let's just hope it doesn't happen for everyone involved."

Minho laughs. He can't help it.

He can help himself from playing with his earring, though.

"I'll tell Seungmin to play me your best."

"If he's a fan of Changbin, you won't hear it."

It's quick, mean and good-natured. Minho doesn't blame himself for laughing again.

Han seems pleased. He likes working a crowd, Minho thinks. He's sure of it when Seungmin emerges from the back and Han snaps back to form. Straight back, a neutral smile, ready to bend under the wind of a new dynamic.

Minho is curious. Seungmin is a tough puppy to impress.

"Hello," he says, tapping on his tablet updating stocks. "Heard you lost a shoe."

"Next album concept is fairy tales, I'm trying out method acting. I think it's stupid, but Changbin suggested it and I wanted to humor him."

Seungmin is amused. Minho can smell it. He's also as expressive as a brick wall. It takes more than one hit with a hammer to break him down.

He takes a look between Minho and Han.

"I'd like to hear a happy love song, for once."

Minho smiles, swinging from side to side with a lazy smile. Fear flashes in Seungmin's eyes.

He runs to the back before Minho pounces on him. "Smart puppy," he says proudly.

Han laughs softly.

"Well trained but not well behaved, I see."

Minho's blinking is not cute. It holds suspicion.

He tries to remember if he told Changbin something about it. He must have.

"Did Changbin say that to you?"

"No," Han smiles. "But he did say he thought I would like you."

"Oh," Minho says, dripping with false disappointment. "That's why you've been so confident. You already knew what you were in for."

Han looks at him with something like fondness. Something that doesn't belong between people who barely spoke to each other and will not speak again.

"He didn't say you would like me."

Minho is aware he's been running on emergency protocol. He's not stupid.

He thinks the emergency protocol failed.

Minho needs to get a grip.

He's been more collected than this when he was a schoolboy holding the seat next to him for his crush.

"Good. It would have been a very wild guess on his part."

He fixes the gold bracelet on his wrist. The clasp always loosens.

Han swallows. It does things for his throat that Minho isn't interested in.

Where the hell is Seungmin? Jeongin would have intervened after the first exchange of words, and not to make things worse.

A happy love song, for once.

"Not much luck in love?" He asks, out of the blue.

Han winces.

"Ah," he stalls, pushing his hair out of his eyes again. "I just don't care much for it, I guess."

Minho knows.

Minho also doesn't care much for luck in love either.

And isn't that the f*cking problem.

Han Jisung is hot, co*cky and refreshing, and Minho knows how it ends.

With a hurt Felix. Again.

He can't f*ck Felix's twin sun and make a run for it.

But, oh, does he want to.

"You should go," he says.

Han, the f*cker, snorts. Then he mocks him.

"I want to kill myself," he repeats in the same whiny, disgusted tone of Minho's statement.

He narrows his eyes.

"You're an asshole," he plays along.

"Changbin was right."

Minho doesn't ask him about what.

Han does like him, and he is arrogant. It's a terrible combination.

Minho is starting to suspect Changbin is often right. Which makes the idea of him suggesting method acting even sillier. Han jokes have layers.

Minho giggles.

He doesn't catch himself because it would be even more damning. He just lets the shame run through his body and shake his nerves, and looks straight at the neon green shoelaces.

"Do you want," Han asks, hesitant, like he doesn't have Minho wrapped around his finger. "I mean, would you like it if I sent you some songs to listen to?"

Minho blinks. It's not often he's caught by surprise.

"I really don't trust the misbehaving dog with a 3racha song selection. We only have hits, but-" he puffs his cheeks up, points at the shelves behind Minho. "There's some of those you don't mix, right? It's the same for music."

He over-explains himself, talks about some songs being better drunk on the rocks and others calling for a mixer, but he doesn't have to.

Not to Minho.

Something stirs in him, listening to Han dealing with the familiar fear of being misunderstood in a way that Minho lacks the skills for.

He's always dealt with it by retreating in himself. Shrugging off other people's weirded out looks. He'd like for it to be a choice, but at times he's aware it's not. It didn't start as one. He never had the words to explain the intuitive logic and quick connections his brain jumps to without permission.

Han does. Has a little too many. He talks like the more he explains, the more he finds out, as he's unraveling a thought made of infinite yarn.

Minho is but a cat- he can't help being fascinated by the string.

"So, anyway," Han smiles in a heart, "that's why I can't let Seungmin be your introduction to our art. He'll mix you beer and wine and it will make you sick."

Minho nods. Tiny.

Shy.

In his own home.

He's disgusted by himself.

For more reasons than one, because he's actively looking at Han's mouth.

He shoves the shoe towards him.

"Take it before I decide to keep it."

Him pouting doesn't help. Minho urgently needs a straw to chew on.

"That would be kidnapping."

"Crime is sexy."

"You don't need crime to be sexy."

Han seems more surprised than him in hearing that. He doesn't take it back.

Minho smiles.

He's going to fire Seungmin. There's no point in having a guard dog if it doesn't do its job.

A sudden sliver of hope.

"Are you a dog person?"

"My parents have a dog and he's the cutest, but I prefer cats."

Damn it.

"Go," he says, eyes narrow. "You have your shoe."

He knows by the light in Han's eyes he wants to say something really stupid. Something like but I don't have you. Minho will hit him if he says it.

Thankfully, he bites it off and takes the hint. Kind of. He asks him if he has any pets, and Minho is sad to report the cat distribution system only provided him with a human-sized one.

It's a little awkward of a goodbye. They push and pull, until Han chuckles and fastens his bag on his shoulder. His legs bend inwards while he walks. It's adorable.

Minho always liked his punchier drinks with a hint of a sweet note.

"I know I told you not to," Seungmin tells him the second he makes it out the back. "But I think you should."

Minho shoves a handful of ice in his mouth, then eats one himself for good measure.

🐱

March turns into April and the spring showers start. Minho loves how the clear sky clouds in seconds and the wind picks up out of nowhere, how the world almost purrs while the rain hits it. Most of all, he loves the smell of wet concrete and grass.

He's looking out of the window, searching for the faintest hint of a rainbow, when Felix drops something behind him.

Minho looks over his shoulder, chewing on the straw in his mouth.

"Sorry," Felix says, picking up his earphones. "I just- Jisung used to run to the window to catch rainbows, too."

He scratches his chest over his hoodie. Something in him is pleased.

Something else, uglier, wonders why Felix calls him Jisung.

He doesn't like either.

"Oh," it's all that he has to say.

Felix smiles, amused. When Minho finds himself the victim of a back hug, he lets Felix hold him for longer than he'd like, his skin tingling despite the layers of clothes.

Then he gets shaken.

"When are you going to get a boy, Lino?" Felix whines. "I want to gossip about someone else's relationship."

"Ask Jeongin about a Saeyon and see what happens."

Felix lights up, and Minho is free. He stretches to celebrate, tiny punches in front of his shoulder. When he unsqueezes his eyes, he catches a rainbow on his left. It's very pale, but it's there. He smiles and takes a picture of it, the first addiction of the season to his rainbow hunter folder.

Han would like it.

It's a very stupid thought.

He deletes it.

🐱

Hi, Han Jisung texts him on April 9th, at 2:12am.

Minho is sitting on a crate next to the emergency exit, surrounded by the smell of rain and the sound of cars rushing by on the main street. He's in his safe place, and yet here is Han Jisung kicking down the front door. Rude.

Wait

f*ck

Why are you online

I was planning to send my text and hide my phone until an unforeseen date

linowithknife.png

Minho laughs when he sees the sticker of himself, scrunching his nose up and everything. It's okay. No one is around to see him.

I'm on my break

I can unbreak myself if you'd rather

No it's okay

I'm a big boy

I can do this

So

I have a question

He takes too long to type. Minho tries to wait patiently, but it's in his nature to be obnoxious. Changbin thinks Han might like him- time to see how much his insight is worth.

I'm waiting

Ask me

Coward

Hit send

linowithknife.png

I'm going to say no out of principle if you don't hit send

Meow

Meow

Meow

Meow

Meow

Would you go out on a date with me? I don't often click with people like we did, and it seems stupid to let it go because I'm afraid I was making it up in my mind just because you're really pretty. If anything, your face being that gorgeous would only prove that we actually had something, because I'm usually not interested in people that are too beautiful, and you definitely are. You have the kind of nose I was convinced only existed in renaissance paintings because people actually paid painters to fake it

WILL YOU LET ME FINISH I'M ALREADY ANXIOUS ENOUGH

Minho blinks.

His ears are on fire. His heartbeat picked up without his permission.

He stays quiet. Still. He reads, and re-reads and then he stares at 🐿️🚫 is writing, right at the top of the chat.

So. I was saying. I think we clicked. It's like I flipped a switch and now the light is flickering, and I'm stuck there waiting for the neon to finally light up, and it's 2am and my mind is racing and I thought I'd ask before they come to put me in a straight jacket and take me away

I'm in a fragile state (read: eepy and on an adrenaline rush), so please reject me with a cute sticker if you must

Minho rarely gets asked out.

He's too aloof and too pretty for people to be comfortable approaching him. He's more than fine with it- he encourages it. He jokes about it, when Jeongin teases- it's an entry test. Anyone who wants him but doesn't think they can get him wouldn't be worth it.

He reads, and reads, and reads.

Han thinks he could get him.

A new text comes.

Meow

Minho stares at the sticker of Han's own face making cat ears with his fingers.

He saves it.

He's pissed.

The light turned on and he wasn't ready for it.

linowithknife.png

How dare you ambush me like this

Han doesn't write back, and Minho swears under his breath.

That wasn't a cute sticker

That was a menacing sticker

hangasp.png

Are you saying

He takes a selfie. A blurry one.

He's holding the straw instead of a knife, but it'll make do.

He gets a grainy, dark picture of a white heart shape poking out under the hood of a sweater. His tongue is peeking out between his teeth.

The loser is holding up a victory sign.

You look edible

I'll chew you

He turns airplane mode on and hides his phone in his pocket.He gets back inside, music hitting his eardrums as soon as he opens the back door. He can't be left alone with his thoughts.

He steals the shaker from Seungmin's hands.

"You just got outside."

"Ice."

Seungmin sighs and lets it go.

"Weren't you on a break?" Jeongin asks when he picks the tray up. He puts it back, leans on the counter, squints intently. "Are you blushing?"

He puts his hand on Jeongin's face and shoves him away.

🐱

He should tell Felix.

"I'll f*ck around with Han Jisung until I find out."

Easy enough.

The words don't want to leave his throat.

He doesn't know what Felix will say, but he will say something. He'll want Minho to say something. He'll want to talk.

Minho doesn't want to talk, doesn't know what he would say.

He can't even say what he wants, and what is true. How is he supposed to look Felix in the eyes and answer a question that he won't have a factual answer to?

He leaves it alone. Shoves it down.

He laughs when Felix loses his sh*t when he loses another game, and he makes him help with lunch even if he's more of a hindrance than anything else, because the kitten thrives when he can be of help.

They took a test, once, the four of them.

They were hanging out after closing, emptying all the bottles that didn't have enough liquor for a shot left, and Felix quizzed them on their love languages like his life depended on knowing how to communicate with them. Minho's result had been acts of service, but Felix had taken a look at the whole page and said: ah, that's easy! You respond well to anything, like me.

Minho didn't have the heart to tell him he was nothing like Felix. That his jumbled results weren't a virtue, but a lack of awareness.

He doesn't pay much attention to how he cares for people, or he's cared for in return- he just shoves ice down Seungmin's throat and babies Jeongin until he sobs. He lets Felix help when he doesn't need it, gives him all of his candy wrappers so he can make stars out of it, and a chin scratch when he looks down.

The only thing he doesn't give Felix are words. He doesn't have them. Not the right kind.

They both reach for the chocolate pudding.

"How many times do I have to tell you," Felix shoves him, laughing. "I don't have that strong of an opinion on pudding. You take the caramel. It's your favorite."

Han probably has a strong opinion on pudding.

Minho nibbles on dessert, then leaves most of it for tomorrow. There's no point in ruining perfectly good pudding with the taste of shame.

🐱

Confession, Han Jisung writes on a crunchy Tuesday afternoon.

The thought of leaving the house appalls me

HOWEVER

I am a curious quokka

Take me to your favorite place

Minho just woke up. He's sitting in front of an empty bowl and a carton of milk, eating dry cereal by the mouthful.

You've been there already

It's the bar

That's depressing

linowithknife.png

What's your favorite place then mh

🐿️👀 is writing, it says at the top of the chat.

Minho knows better than thinking Han is stalling, now, but it doesn't mean he can't be obnoxious.

Meow

Meow

Meow

hanwithcatears.png

Meow

hanwithcatears.png

hanwithcatears.png

It's the rooftop of my old apartment. It's always in the shade so it doesn't get too hot, but there's a sliver of it that gets the sun. You can curl up in it like a cat when you want to feel like the world is a good place, until you get a sunburn on your nose, and it itches like crazy, and you remember happiness is a visiting guest.

Minho sighs, content, resting his chin on the milk carton.

Let's go then

We can't

I don't live there anymore

Trespassing is sexy

Enough with the crime is sexy agenda

So you don't want to know I committed arson

Minho

Meow

Should I laugh or wear fireproof clothes

Both

I kicked a malfunctioning light and it blew the dance studio up

He sends a sticker of himself holding a peace sign. It's Jeongin's favorite.

…

Not gonna lie

That does sound kind of sexy

Trespassing is back on the table

It was never off

And I don't see any overdone fire/hot pun

Don't I deserve cliches??

0/10

I'm eepy 🥺

I just wanted to compliment you

Pic or it didn't happen

Minho saves and then deletes Han's selfie from the chat- he's not dealing with mussed hair and a face puffy with sleep right now.

You dance?

Danced

f*cked up my leg

Car accident

Do you want to see?

Minho readies himself to receive an 'i'm sorry'. He'll swallow it and cancel it. Forget it. There's no reason to be sorry anyway- in a way, the accident was the best thing that ever happened to him. Took dancing off the table forever, took the choice out of his hands. But people think he's in denial when he says it, or repressing a trauma, and maybe he is, but he's okay with it and all the choices he made after it happened, and that's what's important to him.

He's expecting pity, but Han just writes back:

Pic or it didn't happen

Minho grins and sends him the messed up, bloodied, blurry picture he always has on hand. He took it himself, drowning in pain and with nothing else to do but wait for the ambulance. He's very proud of it.

f*ck

Damn it

10/10

Deleted on sight

Never send it to me again

I love it

Don't delete my art

He sends a pic of himself pouting, chin still on the milk.

Minho?

Meow

Want to go to my second favorite place?

Minho drinks his milk for the carton, one leg already off the stool.

🐱

Han Jisung's second favorite place is an arcade.

It's mostly empty. It would be around noon. All the catchy neon lights are dimmed by the natural sunlight coming in from the huge windows, and it's that uncomfortable toasty temperature that buildings reach at the end of spring, when it starts to be hot but not enough to turn on air conditioning.

Minho unknowingly dressed for the occasion, soft cardigan without a shirt underneath and comfy straight fit jeans. Han is wearing ripped jeans, a boxy 3racha shirt that looks soft and stiff to the touch, like quality cotton t-shirt do, and lots of silver jewelry. His hair is pushed back, and his face isn't puffy anymore.

Minho didn't remember giving him permission to clean up.

He props his hip against the pinball machine Han is playing.

"Do you have an opinion on pudding?"

Han smiles.

It's dangerous, that smile. Even from the side. He should employ it more sparingly.

"Textural minefield. If it's even remotely curdled I will spit it out, no matter whose feelings get hurt. But if it's all smooth", he says, almost onomatopoeically, "and creamy, then I'm game and any flavor is good. What about you?"

"I like pudding," he blinks. "It's my favorite."

Han narrows his eyes.

"I feel like I just failed a test."

Minho shakes his head.

"If you did, I would have walked out already."

He's cute, eyes all narrowed in concentration while he plays. He has a nice profile.

His arms look nice as well while he pulls the levers, crooked fingers snapping away from the metal and barely visible veins shifting under his skin.

Han tilts his head down. His buzzed nape is unfairly alluring.

Minho bites his tongue and folds his hands between his thighs.

"Ah, f*ck it," Han says when he loses the pinball. "Want to play air hockey?"

Minho smirks in a cat smile.

"Eager to lose, I see."

He's good, and Minho respects it, but Minho is undefeated. He throws both of his hands in the air when he scores the last point.

"I win."

"Humiliating," Han mumbles, curling over the table. "I'll never recover. Although," he looks up with sparkly eyes. "I should have expected it. It’s very cat-like of you to be good at this."

Minho nods. He can't deny a natural inclination.

"I worked hard for my skills," he says, anyway. "There wasn't much to do for me with a shattered leg, and it was fun to humiliate kids that thought a nerd with a crutch would be easy to beat."

"You played this with a crutch?"

He throws up a victory sign.

Han smiles, takes him in.

Minho is used to being looked at like he's something beautiful, but Han looks at him like he's something interesting.

He fiddles with the edge of his cardigan where it lays on his chest, even if it wasn't out of place. Han follows the movement with his eyes, deliberately.

"Any other talent you want to show off, wonderboy?" Han asks, voice like smooth cognac.

Minho's quick to answer.

"Dance dance revolution."

Han knows he used to dance. There's no reason at all why he should lick the corner of his mouth and look pleased with Minho's choice.

No reason at all, except that he wins.

"Ah!" He shouts ungraciously, throwing his fist in the air.

"You knew the song pattern!"

"If I did, it would be spelling out PERFECT," he says, pointing at the screen. "I'm just light on my feet."

Minho shoves him. Han almost falls down, legs crumpling on themselves.

"Bambi legs."

"Sore loser much?" Han laughs.

"Put on another one."

Minho almost throws the game because he needs to look at him.

Han is light on his feet. He's also dancing worse than Minho, but he's playing better. He wastes less energy and leans back at the perfect time to support himself on the bar behind him when a lot of jumping is involved.

Minho is a quick learner. Next round, Han's experience gets him a PERFECT, but Minho is right behind him.

He puts in another coin.

"Something tells me I'm about to eat dust," Han says with pure joy.

He doesn't, not on Video Killed the Radio Star, but he does on the next one.

Minho falls to his knees in celebration. He also regrets it right away.

"Ow," he says peacefully, slumping down the very dirty floor of the machine.

"Are you all right?" Han asks, crouching down next to him.

"f*cked up leg," he says, wiggling it. "It likes to act up."

Minho is perfectly capable of standing up on his own, but Han's arm is very inviting. His muscles are soft and solid, and Minho purrs in the privacy of his own head.

When he lets him go, Han takes his hand to lead him to a coin-op game.

Minho doesn't like being touched. He doesn't know what to do with another person's hand on his body, the feeling of being constrained. He's extremely ticklish, too. Overall not built for affectionate touches.

But he keeps his hand in Han's.

It's just a short walk to Puzzle Bubble, anyway.

Han puts his foot on the bar of Minho's stool and leans close. He smells like berries and salt. Like summer in a pinewood near the sea. Maybe Minho's love language is nice scents that he itches to trap in a drink.

He's zoned out, but he knows Han is talking all the same. His lips are moving. His bottom lip looks poutier when his mouth isn't closed.

Minho needs to be munching on a straw.

"Drink," he says, standing up. "Do you want something?"

Han looks up at him, confused, but he's quick to nod.

"Sure." His cheeks puff up. "I'll get something to eat, too, I guess."

Minho already ate one of the fat sandwiches he keeps in the fridge while he was waiting for the bus, but he's not above having a second lunch.

Han gets a burger and they share fries and a large soda.

Or at least that was the idea.

When Han makes grabby hands for the drink, Minho realizes he's been chewing the straw to a sad, wet stub.

"I'll go ask for another one."

Han shrugs, bites on it to fluff it up again, and drinks, unbothered.

It shouldn't be hot.

Minho pulls at his earring.

"It's nicer at this time of the day," he says, to keep his mind from going down the gutter. "Although I miss terrorizing kids."

"Kids are the worst," Han admits, scrunching his nose. "I see a pack of them and I'm scared sh*tless. Adult people usually have social filters, but kids? You never know what they might say. And I know I shouldn't care what a kid is saying about me, but it's not like knowing you won't suddenly fall down from a ledge makes it less scary, if you're afraid of heights."

"I'm afraid of heights," he says.

Han speaks just before he can.

"I guess we're not going to an amusem*nt park any time soon."

Kids and heights.

"I like haunted houses, though. It's funny to assert dominance by looking a ghost in the eyes when he jumps at you."

"I wouldn't know that," Han says. "I never went. I don't think I'd be scared since I know it's fake, but why would you pay money to be terrorized?"

"You don't watch horror movies?"

He blushes.

"Not in the theater," he points out. "I watch it with friends. I like to make fun of cliches."

"We should watch one together," he says, pushing the last fries towards Han.

He smiles.

Minho stares.

He's never been on a date that feels more like a middle school trip to the mall than this one does, and yet he's never wanted to kiss anyone more madly.

Han isn't helping, making his eyes round and biting his bottom lip in a face that should be cute, but is making Minho jealous of Han's own teeth.

He hides his fingers in his sleeves.

They play games and talk about nothing for hours.

By the time Changbin calls, Minho knows nothing about Han's family, life, or career- but he knows he read all the over one-hundred issues of Detective Conan multiple times, that he figured out his childhood dog wasn't really his brother late enough for it to be embarrassing, that he likes teal because it's a color that took a stand and refused to make a choice between being green or blue. And more. Countless useless details that make Han stand out like a cut-out in a pop-up book.

Minho pokes him in the ribs, and Han squirms and holds his hand, still shouting over the phone passionately wasting time defending himself for getting to the studio later than Changbin.

Minho lets him keep his paw and laces their fingers together.

A shiver runs up his hand.

"Well," Han shouts, eyes lighting up with a winning point. "We don't all have our pretty playthings in the office, do we?"

Minho should be offended.

He doesn't even pretend to be. Han said it to rile Changbin up, and it worked. He can hear him fighting for Hyunjin's honor, just before Han hangs up.

"Sorry," Han says quickly, holding his hand tighter. "It's like I regress to a thirteen year old when I talk to him. You're not a plaything."

He's the prettiest handsome man Minho has ever seen. He's sure of it despite his notoriously bad memory.

Minho leans forward and catches his lips in a butterfly kiss. He barely has the time to feel the shape of his mouth.

He doesn't chew, he's not uncivilized.

When he pulls back, his lips are tingling. He licks them.

Han looks at him like he's insane. Like it's glorious that he is.

Minho smirks, a little too shy for someone trying really hard to play it cool, but he compensates with attitude.

"We don't want you to be a liar when you'll imply you got some, do we?"

Han does that laughing-in-two-times thing.

Minho needs a straw.

🐱

On business hours, he's a quokka hater.

Seungmin can't know he took up his advice, and Jeongin can't know he's blatantly disobeying him.

Not that Jeongin has any authority over him to begin with, but he would like it if he didn't quit. He likes his staff.

Besides, he will keep his word and tell Felix, and Minho is not touching that with a ten foot pole.

What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

It's not like it's serious.

They've been on one date, they barely kissed.

They're nothing to each other.

Minho has seen plenty of people before, and Felix never knew about it.

He doesn't linger on the treacherous doubt he's not been seeing anyone while Felix was actually around to know them. He notoriously has a bad memory. He probably forgot.

He'll forget about Han Jisung, too.

The Minho who went to the arcade raises a knife at him, but he has no power here.

"Why are you so giddy?" Jeongin asks him while he picks up a tray full of co*cktails.

"Why aren't you?"

Jeongin sighs and disappears.

Felix smiles his thousand watt smile and Minho squints.

"You are giddy, tonight. Have you met a boy?"

He nods.

He's not lying anymore than he has to.

"He's small and mouthy, but he'll make do."

Felix laughs.

"He sounds lovely. Can we meet him?"

"No."

Felix looks at him with suspicion.

"Are you a jealous lover, Lee Minho?"

"No."

It's a guess, he never really had anyone to be jealous over, but he always thought it was stupid. Why would you be with someone you don't trust? It sounds like a waste of time.

"Sure." Felix rolls his eyes dramatically.

He pours another vodka lemon, swaying to the song playing on the floor. It's 3racha produced. He knows because Seungmin and Jeongin laughed manically while adding it to the playlist, and he was bored enough to go harass them about it.

Tuesday nights are lazy.

The floor isn't packed, people drink less because they'll have to be at work in the morning, and the club closes at 2am.

Han would probably like it better on a Tuesday than on a Saturday.

Not that he's ever putting foot in this club ever again, if not to play their set.

Felix is going to lose it. Minho snickers.

"Look at you giggling."

"I'm snickering wickedly," he points out. "At your expenses."

"Why would you snicker at my expense?"

He doesn't have to say anything. Felix punches him on his arm.

"Stop it. I'm trying not to think about it. They don't exist. They can't hurt me."

"You'd think you'd be proud to have f*cked them all," Minho says, wiping down the counter. "They're all pretty hot."

One more than the others.

"I guess I would be, if it had been just sex, you know?" Felix says, tucking his beloved fried blond hair behind his ear. "But I don't think about them that way. They were all important to me."

The clasp of Minho's bracelet is coming undone. He fixes it.

Felix helps, nimble fingers doing it for him.

Guilt guilt guilt.

He smiles at Felix and lets the topic drop.

The topic is picked up again.

They tried Minho's revived Quokka drink, now with less spice because Han has a low tolerance for it, and more tanginess. Minho tried it after licking salt off his wrist and purred in satisfaction. It's starting to come together.

"Who was your favorite?" Seungmin asks out of the blue, like Seungmin does.

He isn’t even working, he just turned up without an explanation.

"Come on," Seungmin insists. "Don't be selfish. Feed us gossip."

Felix pushes out his cheek with his tongue, unimpressed, but he eventually sighs with his whole body.

"I don't know," he says. "They're too different to tell."

"You really aren't fun," Jeongin says, his mouth pressed in a straight line. "We should score them."

They let it sit. Looking at Felix. Peer pressuring him, he might say.

"Fine," he surrenders. "Might as well have fun with it."

They cheer.

Chan wins when it comes to romantic dates and small everyday gestures. There wasn't any doubt about it- the man put up a fake poster to make it look like they were having a date in Paris, once.

Changbin, surprisingly, wins the sex. Apparently he was really attentive and he made Felix feel special.

Han Jisung doesn't win any small award, but he takes home the one that matters.

"It's Jisung," Felix admits, looking at the whiteboard in the staff room with unsatisfied eyes. "My favorite was Jisung."

There's nothing Minho likes about the confession.

Least of all that Felix is calling him by his first name.

"What even happened with him?" Seungmin asks like he doesn't know he's stepping on a mine. "You never said."

Felix's mouth turns down, his eyes narrow. He's enduring bad memories.

Minho plays with his bracelet.

"We weren't a good match."

It means nothing.

It's not what Seungmin was searching for.

They still don't know why he packed his duffle bag.

They don't pry any further.

When Han asks Minho if he's in for a horror movie afternoon, he says yes.

Han sends him the cat ear sticker. Minho looks at it for a little too long.

🐱

Han refuses to be fed strawberries mouth to mouth, which is stupid since he has no problem drinking from Minho's abused straws.

"Make it make sense!" He insists, throwing the strawberry stem to him.

"It reminds me of birds feeding their babies," he wines.

Of course he would have an argument ready.

"No!" Minho's voice is getting louder.

"No?" Absolutely appalled.

"It's not like I pre-chew it! I just hand it to you, with my mouth. It's clean."

"It's still unsexy."

He screams without sound.

"I'm not trying to be sexy!"

"Of course you're not trying to be sexy, now that you know it wasn't working!"

Minho wants to strangle him.

Unfortunately, he'd have to wiggle out of Han's arms to do it.

He isn't sure how they ended up sitting on the floor, Han's hands curled over his stomach and his feet planted in between Minho's legs, TV still open on Netflix's previews, but he has no intention of fixing it.

"I'm doing it for you," he says, looking up at him in contempt. "You couldn't handle me trying to be sexy. You should thank me."

Han gives him another peck. Minho lost count.

It's annoying.

He grips the front of Han's shirt and gives him another one.

He shoves him back, turns around in his arms.

Han kisses the back of his neck.

Minho tilts his head, all but begging him to kiss him for real, or lick a wet stripe on his neck, but Han just nuzzles him.

It's maddening.

Minho can hear his own uneven breathing.

It's embarrassing.

By how sensitive he's being to Han's cuddles, he'd think he's never been touched by a man before, and he was there to witness it.

He closes his eyes, eyebrows high, when Han chuckles in his neck.

"I still can't believe we didn't check if the movie was on a streaming platform."

Oh, right. That's why it's approximately the fifth hundredth time that Minho has seen this K-drama trailer.

They ran a whole tournament, thoroughly debating each bracket, just to end up not being able to watch the movie that won.

"It's not our fault," Minho says. "It's capitalism's."

"Agreed. It's like they forgot why streaming got popular in the first place. We're just straight back to cable. We should go back to pirating."

"But I'm too lazy to."

"I'll pirate it all for you." A kiss. Fingers curling up in his shirt. "You'll just have to show up and watch."

"And look pretty?"

"It goes without saying."

He looks at the muscles shifting in Han's inner thighs.

They're maybe half the size of Minho's, not anything he isn't used to, but they're lean and soft and taut, and he would like to bite.

He pokes it instead. Aggressively.

Han takes his hand away, crooked fingers interlocking with his at their first knuckles.

"Why don't you touch me?" Han Jisung asks like it's a sentence that belongs in a room brightly lit by the afternoon sun, voiced in a whiny, bratty voice. "You don't have to hide your hands or poke me, just touch me when you want to."

"I'm just fidgety," he argues. "I don't live my life keeping myself from touching you. Stop projecting, Han Jisung."

Why does Felix call him by his first name?

Would he let Minho?

Would Minho even like it? He looks like a Han. Short and explosive.

"Maybe I'm upset," Han pouts in his neck, the pad of his thumb smoothing a cuticle on the side of Minho's fingernail. "You said I look edible but I have yet to be chewed."

Minho looks at their hands.

He needs a straw.

Han breathes behind his ear.

He mouths at the side of Han's finger rather than his own. It's weird not to feel the smooth texture of his lips on his skin.

Finally, finally, Han's breathing cracks.

Minho parts his lips when Han's thumb touches his mouth.

Minho jerks with an unpleasant memory- this one guy he was seeing eyeing him like a freak when Minho sucked on his finger a little too long when tending to a small knife cut.

He pushes two of Han's fingers deeper in his mouth, no hesitation. Han asked for it.

He doesn't take it back.

Minho is in a haze.

He knows he’s withering and fidgeting and Han’s free hand is there to ground him.

He holds on to the rips of his jeans when Han wraps an arm around his waist, pulling Minho closer.

Minho doesn't like being held. It constricts him, it makes him short of breath. He puts his arm over Han’s, tightens his hold.

The kisses move up to his cheek.

"You're tense," Han has the daring, the guts, to whisper in his ear.

Minho is tense. Go figure. He's trapped in his arms getting his mouth f*cked.

He'd love to tell him just how stupid of a statement that was, but his mouth is full and he likes it that way.

Most maddening of it all, is how he can't close his legs, thighs meeting the resistance of Han's feet in between them.

Han smiles in the crook of his neck, just before his teeth sink into skin.

Minho is going to bruise. He hates hickeys, he hates marks. He throws his head back.

"Hm," Han teases, licking his bite. "Chewy."

Minho chuckles. Takes a deep breath through his nose, relaxes a little in Han's arms.

He grabs the hint of clarity he's found in the haze and leaves Han's fingers alone to f*ck into his mouth. He takes his other hand, squeezes it.

He needs it lower.

And then Han takes his fingers away and smacks a kiss on his cheek. Loudly.

"Here we go," he says, satisfied.

Minho stares vacantly at nothing while Han wipes his fingers dry on Minho's jeans and picks up the remote.

It's the knowledge he'd have to take his hands away from Han to smack him senseless that dampens his rage.

He's got his hands full of him.

Their left hands are laced together, and Minho’s finger never stopped fidgeting with the rip in his jeans. He's slumped comfortably against his chest.

Han teased him into cuddling.

"Ah, I think this one came in third," the quokka is saying, all happy and round. "Lesbian cannibal witches joining a frat house be it, then."

Minho keeps glaring at him.

It takes a whole scene before he squeezes his eyes and buckles under the pressure.

"Don't look at me like that," Han whines like it's not warranted.

Minho turns in his arms and chomps on his cheek. Aggressively. It's not a cute bite.

Han laughs and whimpers and Minho bites his neck, his jaw, and his cheek again.

He's going to consume him. Nothing will be left, not even his clothes: he eats his fruit with the peel on.

"Stop it," he chuckles, wrapping his hand flat against Minho's waist. It makes him shiver. "WWF will lock you away, quokkas are a vulnerable species!"

"I'm sure they're getting hunted for a reason," he retaliates, breathing against Han's mouth. "Insufferable."

Han chuckles and catches Minho's upper lip, but he doesn't kiss him further.

Tease.

Minho jumps, his eardrums echoing with the loudest, shrillest male scream he's ever heard. He vibrates through it.

"Big kitten," Han purrs, scratching the soft spot behind his ear. "Scared by sudden noises."

"Are you taking notes?" He snaps, his hand pressed over his chest.

He nods very seriously.

"I wouldn't want to feel like a fake fan. I must learn everything asap."

He shifts on Han's lap, pulls the fabric of his shirt between his fingers.

"Can't relate. You're my favorite and I couldn't name three of your songs."

"And I hate that for you," he promises. "They're really good songs."

He moves one hand to Minho's.

Minho swats it away.

He runs his hand up Han's chest on his own volition, wraps his fingers on the sides of Han's neck, who smiles with mischievous rodent satisfaction.

Minho gives him another peck. Kissing is easier than casually touching him.

He has a feeling that's why Han is avoiding it.

Minho takes offense at people acting like they know him, especially if it's men he's only seen a couple of times, projecting their expectations onto him and twisting his every behavior to fit the narrative they enjoy.

It's the first time he feels like he's not been read by an illiterate.

Han smiles at him, mouth a heart.

"I really like your teeth."

"I noticed." He blinks. "You kept touching them."

Han blushes, watercolor red splotching his round cheeks.

"Don't say it like it's not mutually beneficial."

Minho smirks.

He takes Han's fingers in his mouth again. Nibbles on them, licks the smooth surface of his dark nail polish.

Han's eyes are a dense black, his tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth.

It takes him a minute to understand what game Minho's playing. That it's payback and he's getting teased right back. He throws his head back when he gets it.

"I know I did this to myself," he whines, "but I don't deserve this."

Minho laughs, nose scrunching up in a vulnerable smile.

He makes him suffer until it's fun, then turns in his arms and wraps Han's limbs around him. He cuddles into his chest, like he's a professional at it.

"I'm taking a nap," he lets him know. "If I wake up because of a jump scare, I'm blaming you."

Han laughs in his hair. Softly, then surely.

Minho is pretty sure he changes the movie to something with a pretty soundtrack not much later. Or maybe it's just his brain turning into mush because his body is too warm and his nose is too pleased with the smell of salty trees and sunlight.

🐱

MINHO

I forgot

I was meant to send you songs

I didn't remind you for a reason

hangasp.png

You want to hear me sing them live for the first time??

That's so sweet bby

Send me your face

I want to see what you look like when you're being delusional

He sends a cute, unflattering, over the top wink.

Minho sends back a pout and a middle finger. The picturesque fa*g written in black sharpie on the glass of the bus station made it into the frame.

Awww

It's so considerate of you to provide an alt caption

linowithknife.png

I don't like how you talk to me

You're disrespectful

You should fear me

Big feral kitten

So scary

hanwithcatears.png

Linowithknife.png

PAY ME RESPECT OR ELSE

A pouty, co*cky selfie of Jisung in a slu*tty scoop neck shirt assaults his eyes without permission.

He turns off his phone.

He blinks the image away from his eyes and tentatively opens the chat again.

Do you really want me to stop talking back to you?

Give it a good thought before you answer

Minho should say yes.

Immediately.

He won't mean it, but Han will know he won't, but he'll whine all the same, and Minho will be stuck texting him with his ears on fire at the bus stop.

Mmmmh, the quokka writes.

I thought so

Minho spams the knife stickers until the bus comes.

Then he texts:

You should sell photocards,

because riding the bus is boring and the girl sitting in the seat in front of him has a Korean boy trapped in her phone case.

Already on it bby

??????

NO?????

You just said we should??

I don't want people to have your face in their phone??

It's none of their business???

But it's a very pretty face

It's MY pretty face??

Oh is it now?

Yes??

I BIT IT??

True

But don't you want people carrying it around hopelessly wanting what’s yours?

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

No

V-sign.png

NoooooOooOOOOoooOo

I want moneeeeyyyy

How will we feed our kittens

Kittens?

Are we getting them?

Do tell

Spam meows I need a minute

Minho meows away.

It's well past the double digits when Han sends him a picture. It's a drawing on the back of a receipt- two stick figures with three badly drawn cats, a sun in the corner of the paper and a single scribbled out tree.

Us

A selfie of the artist follows, eyes closed and mouth open in glee.

Minho grimaces.

He hates this.

He hates the warmth in his chest, the way he doesn't hesitate before setting the selfie as his lock screen, the way he's chewing his hoodie string to putty, wishing it was Han's fingers.

He hates the folder in his phone he thought was a good idea to rename 🐿️ BF (TBD???) while he was on break at 2am.

He likes Han too much.

He likes him differently.

He never likes people like this. Like it's the dead of summer and they're a sudden cold breeze rattling the open windows.

Han

Minho

He sucks on the string. Slumps in the seat.

When you break up with me do it with a cute sticker

That's a really roundabout way to ask me to be your lawfully wedded boyfriend

Coward

Ask me like you mean it

Minho takes a black picture pressing the camera against his thigh and quickly scribbles will you be my boyfriend and two squares on it.

Jisung quickly replies with a screenshot, a bold neon green checkmark over the yes.

Minho stares at the chat for far too long, the vibrations of the bus window smoothing his brain just enough that he can handle the tight grip on his windpipe.

He's feeling too much.

He'll choke.

He deletes the TBD from the folder's name.

🐱

Seungmin stares at him in the red glow of the emergency light.

Unreadable.

He smiles, toothy.

"See? You should listen to me. I'm wise."

I'm dating Han Jisung.

It doesn't feel like he said it, his mouth doesn't remember the taste of it, but he must have, since Seungmin is being insufferable.

Minho takes a drag of his cigarette.

He doesn't smoke often, discipline almost always winning the neck-to-neck race with indulgence, but he feels too tender. He needed to rough up his image. He feels more put together now, with his purple hair slicked back, rolled-up sleeve and a cigarette in mouth, the filter crushed between his front teeth.

He blows smoke in Seungmin's face.

"I will deny having any horse in this race when Jeongin will wack you, though."

"I wouldn't expect otherwise. You're a small man, Kim Seungmin."

He's a better man than most. Which is why it's baffling that he'll encourage Minho while he does the most to ruin his friendship with Felix.

Minho couldn't look him in the eyes for the whole shift. As soon as he's concerned, there's no one holding the bar right now.

"Lixie will be happy for you, Minho."

He already is. Looks at him like Minho is a drunk kitten every time he catches him zoning out or sending a text.

"And he'll suffer for it."

"He's tougher than you give him credit for."

"Exactly," Minho argues. "He'll endure it for my sake. Make himself sick."

"Is it any better to make yourself sick because you don't want him to?"

Minho leans his forehead on the heel of his palm, eyes closed.

"I won't be sick."

"Yes, you will."

Yes, he will.

"What do you know about it?"

"Because you'd be sick if you lost Jeongin, me or Felix, too. You're one to fall hard and fast, Lee Minho."

It's true. When a stray cat rubs on his calf, he can't do anything but pick it up, put a collar on it and give it a home.

It's different with Han, though.

He's different with Han.

Seungmin needed a job so that he could leave a broken home. Jeongin needed someone to help him navigate a new city. Felix needed a home.

Han doesn't need anything.

He's smart and co*cky and he's got his sh*t together even if it looks like he shouldn't, really, with those round eyes and perpetually confused frown. He owns his own apartment, he has a name for himself in his field of work, he's got good friends and he sells out gigs with his side hustle.

Han is the one who found a stray kitten in an alley, lured him out with sweet noises, and picked him up.

And Minho doesn't want to be put down.

Seungmin claps him on his back.

"Stop being a puss*, tiger."

Minho snorts.

He feels marginally better when he puts the cigarette out against the stone wall.

Felix falls face down on the couch when they make it back home.

It's past 3am and neither of them will go to sleep for another couple of hours, their body used to weekend shifts.

Minho takes off his tie and takes the whisky out the cabinet. He's not going to crush hearts sober.

"Shots?" Felix asks, face peeking over the couch's back. "So you're really having an affair with Seungmin and ready to admit it."

"Temperature?"

Felix sighs.

"325°, fry until golden."

Minho smiles, satisfied.

"Good kitten."

"What were you confabulating about, then? If it wasn't about your forbidden interspecies love affair?"

Minho takes another shot.

Felix pouts, stretching his arms over the kitchen island.

"Were you telling him about your beloved?"

Minho's sleeves are rolled up, there's nowhere for his fingers to hide.

"Yeah."

Felix reaches over and shakes him by the front of his shirt.

"Why are you leaving me out, Lee Minho? The only friend you have that isn't a canine?"

"Because it's Han," he rushes out.

Felix stops.

Stops shaking him, stops squeezing his eyes dramatically, stops being happy.

Minho hopes he's just on hold.

"Jisung?" Felix mouths.

In a wicked, wretched way, it gives him confidence. Jisung is a name that belongs to the past, as far as Minho knows.

He nods.

"He came to the bar. We clicked."

Felix leans away.

It breaks Minho's heart, to see him retreat from physical contact.

"Did he-" he swallows, ripples in his warm brown eyes. "Say anything about me?"

Minho doesn't know which would be worse to hear, yes or no, so he's got no choice but the truth.

"No. But he doesn't know I know you, so."

Felix frowns, playing with his necklace.

"You didn't tell him you live with his ex."

"He didn't tell me about an ex."

Felix chuckles after that, a little bitterly.

"And you didn't ask?"

"I already know how it ends."

Felix shakes his head, his tongue pressed into his cheek.

"No, you don't. You know what happens after it ends."

It seems like nitpicking.

"You deserve to hear his side first," he says, standing up. "I hope it makes sense to you."

Felix pours himself a glass of water. The snap of the fridge door, the gurgling of the stream, each sound is a nail in a board.

"Felix."

"Minho. You're happy. Be happy."

He's hurt.

Minho failed him twice.

In making it happen, and in not sparing a thought about how to make it better after it did.

He endures Felix's smile when he walks to his room, and gets startled by the familiar, soft sound of the door closing being him.

Stranded, he can only make out the clock handles clicking.

The next night bus leaves in twenty minutes.

He pours the shot of whiskey in the sink, washes his hands, and gets out the door.

One thing he's grateful for: musicians have worse sleep schedules than night-shift barmen do.

Han opens the door with irritation in his eyes and his mouth parted, like he's about to pick up an ongoing discussion. His face falls when he sees Minho, hands picking apart the bracelet he f*cked up beyond the point of no return while he counted minutes on the bus.

He doesn't ask if something's wrong. He takes his hand and leads him inside like Minho asked for him to take it.

Minho's so grateful for it that he catches one full breath.

"Who did you think it was? At the door?"

"My neighbor. She keeps complaining that I keep her up at night. I work with headphones on. She's upset at the chair squeaking."

"She must hate hearing you talking, then."

Han squints at him.

"Quokkas squeak," Minho adds, in tiny, sitting next to Han on the couch.

"I got that," Han nods, nudging him gently to turn his face to look at him rather than at the mug on the edge of the coffee table. "Do you have a smile for me?"

Minho bares his teeth. It turns into a real smile when Han chuckles.

"Want something to drink?"

"I want a sweater."

Han's eyes go round, then cheekily seductive.

"Are you trying to get me out of my clothes, baby?"

Minho tugs at his sweater, and in a minute he's curled up in a bush of wildberries under the pine trees, hands finally hidden in the sleeves.

Han is left in a worn-out white t-shirt, but he doesn't complain about it. He’s a comforting weight against Minho’s arm, hands in his own lap.

Minho still feels cold, even wrapped in the hoodie warm with Han's body heat.

"I didn't just dance, I was a professional dancer. Before I f*cked up my leg."

"Oh," Han says. "You don't sound so upset about it."

"I'm not. I loved dancing, but I hated feeling like it was the only thing that made me worth something. I couldn't give it up, and I couldn't keep doing it, and I lived walking that tightrope for years. After the accident I couldn’t make sense of what the doctor was telling me… until I understood it was just a lot of words to tell me I would have never been able to dance like I used to. They all expected me to blow up one way or another but- I only felt relief."

"Ah," Han says softly. "I do that all the time. Well, not getting my leg f*cked up, but, like, tossing a coin when I'm indecisive about something. If I flip it, and if it's tails, and I feel disappointed, I know I actually wanted it to be head. And if I feel happy, then it's a sign that it's the right choice."

Minho kisses him. Butterfly touch.

He lingers just a little longer, fingers grazing his jaw.

"I flipped a coin today," he says when he pulls away. "But it feels like it landed on the side."

"Can I help?" Han asks, eyes staring into Minho's.

The warmth of Han's skin under his fingers reminds him maybe he can.

Quietly, he snuggles in Han's arms, pulling his arms around him. Han kisses his hair, plays with Minho's sleeves, and then holds his hand tight, crooked fingers twining with Minho's.

"You have tiny hands."

"They can box. I'm a fighter, not a lover."

Han smiles against his cheek.

"Don't limit yourself. If you have the ability to be more than one thing, always be both."

Minho closes his eyes. There's too much sunlight.

Even in darkness, it warms him up.

🐱

Jeongin throws a lemon at his chest the moment he sees him. He immediately makes a run for it, hiding behind a table, but Minho isn't in the mood to retaliate.

He figured Seungmin would have ratted him out.

"Minho?" Jeongin asks, straightening up. "Are you all right?"

Of course he isn't.

He's a stray kitten who bonded with his foster parent. Destined to be packed in a bag and brought to another house that will never be home.

He screams on mute. He bends over the bar.

He's pathetic.

It was the appeal of the affair, that he'd get away from it unscathed.

He's suffering from his own hubris. So much for looking at the man that ruined Lee Felix, and saying: ah, I can play with him.

Turns out he f*cking can't.

"He drools in his sleep," he says, gaze unfocused.

"Ew," Jeongin, the uncultured swine, says.

What does he know about the way it dries on Han's lips and how it tastes to lick it off?

"Are you wearing his clothes?" Jeongin asks. "Is this a walk of shame?"

He parts his lips, but it's too much of a bother to speak. Besides, it's none of Jeongin’s business how Han kissed him asleep, Minho's legs wrapped around his stupid tiny waist, a hand reassuringly, innocently wrapped around his thigh.

Minho's never dated someone without sleeping with them first. Now he's losing his mind without even seeing the man naked.

What a pathetic excuse of a predator he is.

"Oh, here you are." Felix's grumbly baritone shakes his bones. "I was going to print flyers. Idiot cat escaped home."

Jeongin gasps like he hasn't just thrown a lemon at him. Speaking of. Minho picks up an orange and throws it right at his desaturated ginger head.

Maybe Seungmin didn't rat him out, after all. Maybe a dog is the only one standing in his corner. What a disgrace.

He turns his face, pressing his other cheek to the smooth surface.

Felix didn't conceal his dark circles. He doesn't look sad, though, just tired. And pissed.

"I'm not lost."

"Clearly," he says, petting his head. "How is Jisung?"

His mouth twitches.

"Why would you ask." No question mark in his tone.

"Because I'm your friend, and he's your boyfriend. You're going to have to deal with us interacting."

There's something in his words, a naive mischievousness.

"Are you enjoying this?"

"Yes," he smiles.

"As he should," Jeongin says, sitting on a stool. "Ex-boyfriend f*cker."

"It helps that Jeongin is more upset about it than I am," Felix chimes. "Really, Minho. I don't love it, but it's fine."

"You're too kind," Jeongin says. "I would have waterboarded him."

Rude but not uncalled for.

"Minho is kind." A stab wound would have hurt less. "If he pursued this, I trust that it means something to him."

"I see," Jeongin sas, eyebrows raised. "You've chosen guilt-tripping as your weapon."

Felix looks annoyed, but he just sighs.

"Will you both stop and try and test me?"

"Ow. You really don't know us, do you?" Jeongin smiles.

Minho snorts so softly he barely hears it himself. He slowly pushes himself up, regaining a half-respectable standing position.

Felix's mouth twists when he sees the front of his hoodie.

He inquires with a glare, but Felix doesn't say anything.

He recognizes the hoodie, that much is clear, but Minho wants to know why. Is it a favorite? Did he like it on Han? Was it a gift?

It's no use to think about it.

When he puts it on again to go home, the soft fabric itches his skin.

Felix sits next to him on the night bus, his mouth downturned.

It's not unusual for them to be silent, but never because the air is thick between them.

Minho hates it.

He hates it even more than he isn't sure he'd take back ever flirting with Jisung to get Felix back. It's not the kind of person he is.

He doesn't check his phone when a text comes. He turns off the vibration, too.

Felix sighs.

"Minho," he says, tired. "Don't hide him from me. He doesn't deserve it."

Shameshameshame- it almost sounds like tumbling a drink does, when the ice is almost all dissolved.

Save me pretty boy save me

He smiles at the blurry picture of Hyunjin folded over Changbin in laughter, Changbin's shy, wide smile striking even in low quality.

Want me to come over and give them a little show?

Don't give me hope

?? I literally can??

Aren't you working?

Early shift

Left the bar to the fox and the hound

WHY WOULD YOU CALL THEM THAT

That sh*t is so depressing

I'm tearing up just thinking about it

Find them another nickname right now

But they are a fox and a dog :/

And you're going to be a stray cat

I won't feel safe around you knowing you might drop that traumatic sh*t on me

Literally choose anything else

Cute

Little baby

I'm SANE

You would know that if you had actually ever watched that movie and weren’t just citing the first pop culture reference that came to mind

Maybe I'm just psychotic

No you're not

You can't play tough when it comes to the fox and the hound

You'd be wrecked by it

Pls promise me to never watch it

Mmmm

You sound scared I'll verify how much of a baby you are

I'm protecting you actually

But sure go on and get your heart broken

Just don't come to me to cry about it

Which isn't punishment btw

It's just that I won't be in any fit state to do anything about it and we'll both be inconsolable

Jesus I'm actually about to cry I have a lump in my chest

Come here and make it better please this is your fault

[Location shared: TJKE building]

Code is 56678, third floor. You'll hear us.

Minho sends him a rather sad-looking sticker holding up a victory sign.

He feels stilted, with Felix sitting next to him.

"I meant it, before," Felix says after another painful minute of silence. "You're going to have to learn to be okay with us existing at the same time. I intend to keep being your friend."

Minho nods, nails catching on the broken corner of his phone's screen protector.

"What does he think about it?" Felix adds.

Minho has no idea. He couldn't bring it up.

He makes a non committal sound.

He's never been happier to be hard to read. Felix assumes he's just being difficult again.

"Fine. I'll give you some space."

The silence is a little less horrible for the last three minutes of the ride.

Minho doesn't sit up when they're near their stop.

"I'm coming back tonight," he says. "Don't waste ink printing any flyer."

Felix shakes his head but his smile is bright.

Minho's is small and tired.

He leans his head against the window, letting the vibrations of the bus soothe him.

Minho talked big, but he's actually too shy to make out with Han in front of his friends.

He's not too shy to put his leg over Han's and keep it there the whole night, lamenting neglect whenever Han moves his hand away from his thigh.

3racha treat him like he's always been there. They get him a beer and don't ask him any boring grown up questions, or any question at all. Minho volunteers anything that comes out of his mouth, including his first animated crush being Kowu from The Lion King 2.

"That's what I call taste," Hyunhin agrees loudly, tipsy on wine. "Changbin is so boring. Jessica Rabbit. Pft."

"The objective correct option is Lola Bunny," Han says, docking back the second fruity beer, flushed in the cheeks. "But sure, go on and be wrong."

Chan agrees vehemently.

"You know," Hyunjin says after Han and Changbin are busy bickering. "Minho is kind of Lola Bunny coded."

Minho humbly agrees. Cool, aloof and sexy. With a hint of bunny teeth.

"He is, isn't he?" Han hums, way too smug not to sound like a loser.

Minho sounds just as smug when he hums back, playing with the soft buzzed hair on Han's nape.

He blinks when Han doesn't stop looking at him.

His eyes are sparkling, narrowed by his cheeks bunching up in a quiet, complacent smile.

"Aren't I ideal?" Minho asks, ears on fire.

"Hm-hm," Han chuckles, hand squeezing the soft flash of Minho's thigh. "Made just for me."

Minho giggles, nowhere to hide.

He's on his fifth shot of limoncello. No one in the room is sober including Chan, who's tipsy on their drinks. He can get away with gaslighting them if they ever mention he's cute after tonight.

He can gaslight himself and believe he never pushed his lips out in a noot to get a peck on his lips. He smiles into it for the briefest moment, tips of his fingers gently touching Han's jaw.

Chan coos like a mother hen, and that's when Minho gets shy. He pokes Han's cheek in retaliation.

"Shut up," Han mumbles. "You don't gush over them."

"Because they're not cute," Chan says. "You are. The cutest. Give me your insta, Minho. There's this page about a squirrel and a cat that's full of pictures of the two of you."

"I don't have one," he blinks. He turns to Han. "Make me one."

"Why would I make you one?"

"Because I want to see our pictures."

He sighs, fishing Minho's phone out of his pocket. He's done quickly, and without any question about emails or phone numbers.

"Here. I logged you into mine."

"Are you insane?" Hyunjin yells. "Sharing an Instagram account three dates into a relationship? Just get married at this point."

"That's the vision," Han jokes, leg bouncing up and down. "I'm roping him in. Soon enough he'll wake up with a ring on his finger and it will be too late for him to escape."

"Are you boiling me like a frog?" Minho asks, ears warm, mass liking every post Chan is spamming in Han's dms.

He gets a kiss on his hair and a giggle.

He likes tipsy Han. He's not that different from sober Han, but he's cuter. More at ease. Like he isn't ready to fight the word at any given moment.

He shoves his phone into his face to show him the cat throwing himself over the asleep squirrel, trying to get big spooned despite the size difference.

"Us tonight," Han says, linking the picture with his nose.

Minho pouts.

"I have to go home tonight."

Han pouts, too.

"Why?"

"Because my roommate will print missing cat posters if I don't."

"But you won't be missing. You're home with me."

"Babygirl on babygirl whining," Changbin whispers loudly. "A rare sighting."

Minho throws him a throw pillow. It's their purpose, it's in their name.

Han giggles. Minho almost gives in and texts Felix, but he's a man of his word.

"I have to get home," he says again, more to convince himself than Han. "But you can drive me there."

Han's eyes get mischievous. Minho gets shy before he even feels Han's mouth against his ear.

"Bribing me with a lil make out session in the backseat, I see."

Minho stares very intently at the daisy pins tailoring Han's oversized pants around his waist. He's calm. He's in control of himself.

Han burns a heart shape against his skin.

Minho likes him too much.

He pouts in betrayal when Han scoots away, lies down on the couch.

"I need to nap the booze away."

"You drank two drinks for tweens, Han," Hyunjin tells him. "Man up."

"No-o, don't," Chan whines. "Be small and cute forever. I don't want my baby to grow up."

"You literally met him a year and a half ago."

"So? He’s mine now. Cutest rabid squirrel."

Han frowns, but he's taking his nap seriously.

Minho is going to kiss him senseless in that backseat. He gives him a belly rub in the meanwhile. Squishy with a firm core. Mochi filled with frozen ice-cream. Minho wants to bite.

"How did the three of you even morphe into a three-headed entity?" Hyunjin ponders. "Have I ever asked?"

"We all joined TJKE around the same time and we were always working late," Changbin answers. "And Chan had baby fever."

"Actually," Chan smiles, looking at Han with a soft smile. "Han kind of adopted me. He found me working late on my birthday and he felt so bad for me that he forgot he was there to scold me because I tampered with his track without telling him."

"Still f*cked up that you would."

"I just polished it," Chan blushes just a little. "Even the best knife in the world needs to be sharpened."

"He was a demon when he started working here," Changbin ignores him, looking between Hyunjin and Minho.

"I was used to working with incompetent people," Chan mumbles. "I always needed to do everything by myself. I didn't know how to work with people that knew how to do their job."

Minho gets that.

Sometimes independence isn't a choice more than it is a requirement. It's addictive, too.

Minho spreads his finger over Han's belly, shirt bunching up in the gap like cat fur would.

"Don't say it like you don't enjoy bossing people around," Hyunjin laughs. "You're a herding dog."

"My ex used to call me an Aussie shepherd all the time, now that I think about it," Chan chuckles, a bit bitterly.

"Same ex you broke up with when you accepted the TJKE offer?"

He nods.

"I was willing to give one hundred percent to make it work with him on top of my new job but, ah-" he tilts his head, annoyed, “let’s say I didn’t get the idea he was as committed to our relationship as I was."

Minho has no way to tell if it was Felix. He doesn't know how many exes Chan had.

He'll investigate.

"Now that’s depressing," Hyunjin says. "When are you going to find a new boyfriend, Christopher? Or girlfriend. I want some gossip. Han went and eloped, I need the pre-relationship drama. The tinder hunt."

"I'll meet someone when I meet someone," Chan says. "I'm not in a hurry."

"Because you're a chicken."

"Because I believe in serendipity," Chan says. "Look at Minho and Han. When it's meant to happen, it will happen."

Minho should be scared of the way they talk about them. Of the sense of inevitability. Of the red string tightening around their pinky fingers, getting shorter and shorter every time someone else acknowledges their click.

He isn't.

He's only scared that they're all wrong.

That people used to think the same about Han and Felix.

That he'll end up clutching a duffle bag with a few shirts inside, returned to the shelter.

He needs to talk to Han. He knows it. He's not stupid.

He's scared.

He wants to be kept.

He wants Han to put a collar around his neck with his phone number embedded in a heart-shaped tag.

He bunches up Han's shirt to play with the enamel daisies.

Han looks stupid when he sleeps. Dumb and combative, cheeks round and eyebrows knitted together.

Minho already can't remember a time when he didn't know the sight.

"You should bring your friends too, next time," Changbin says when they leave the building. "I'm tired of seeing the same three faces all the time."

"Excuse me?" Hyunjin asks, turning away from his conversation with Chan.

"I couldn't single them out," Changbin is ready to say. "I'm not that cruel. You know I'd stare at your face in my sleep if I could."

Hyunjin still glares at him, but he's blushing.

"They're not friends, they're co-workers," Minho says.

"He means they're never off schedule at the same time," Han explains for him, yawning.

His keys dangle from his fingers.

"Oh, that's unfortunate," Hyunjin sighs. "They both seemed nice."

If Minho was a kinder man he'd shutter his delusions now.

He says bye instead.

"I'm happy you like them," Han smiles when he gets behind the wheel. "I do spend an embarrassing amount of time with them."

"Who says I like them?"

"I do," Han smiles, smug.

Minho likes it that Han makes him feel ordinary.

Easy to read.

Easy to love.

He spends most of the ride looking at the street lights coming and going. Makes himself small against the door. He feels too tender to be perceived.

It's well after 2am when Han drops him off in front of his apartment. Seungmin and Jeongin are probably closing up the bar, maybe sharing a drink.

Minho climbs in the back of the car before Han has even parked.

He blinks a couple of times when Han doesn't follow through, staring at him through the rearview mirror instead.

He gives him a wink, and it's all it takes to get a two-timed laughter out of him.

Minho sighs when their mouths meet, drinking Han up like fresh water.

The way even their lips fit together is infuriating.

It's like they've been designed as a set.

If Minho had known, he wouldn't have wasted any effort kissing anyone else.

He meowls when Han kisses down his neck. It's embarrassing. He'd like to take it back, but he's afraid he lost any return form when it comes to Han.

He gets even more embarrassed when Han smiles against his skin, hand caressing the small of his back.

"Shut up," Minho manages to say in a somewhat menacing way.

"I didn't say a word."

"You've thought it. I've heard it."

"Yah, pretty?" A kiss lower on his shoulder, fingers gently pulling at the collar of his hoodie. "What did I say?"

Minho hates him.

He hates himself more for turning Han's face towards him.

For his stupid sense of pride, because he gets shy but he needs to play it tough.

"That it's cute how desperate I am for you to f*ck me."

He thanks himself for being so willing to embarrass himself.

Han swallows, hands tightening their hold on Minho. He turns his head to the side in a disapproving nod, air huffing past his lips.

"You can’t tell me that when we're double-parked on a public street."

"I just repeated it," Minho says, petulant, eyes blinking. "Don't think I'm cute if you don't want me to say it out loud."

"I wasn't thinking you were cute, I was thinking you were sexy."

"Liar."

"Hm-hm," Han shakes his head, nose scrunched up. "It's sexy," he says, kissing the mole on Minho's nose. "How much you want me to f*ck you."

Minho squirms.

"Don't say that."

"I just repeated it."

Minho bites his cheek.

"You're obnoxious."

"I'm just matching your freak."

Minho kisses him again, cupping his face with both hands.

Han tastes so good. Smells so good. Feels so good.

Minho feels dumb. Like he only knows one word.

When Han taps two fingers on his lips, Minho forgets that one, too.

He doesn't know how long they keep kissing, hands only sneaking south for Han to dig his hand into Minho's thighs, and for Minho to grope his ass.

He knows he's hard out of his mind. That he's so warm he's about to pass out.

His lips are swollen, sensitive whenever they come back together after Han breaks apart to kiss his neck and his shoulders, as far as the hoodie lets him.

When they stop, it's because Minho needs to take care of himself, and Han won't do it for him. Not tonight.

"You can either suck my dick or let me go," he tells, squirming against Han's whiny, valiant attempt at keeping Minho from opening the door.

"That's unfair," Han protests, finding the loops of his jeans and yanking him closer. "I like making out. You should take my needs into consideration."

Minho headbutts him softly.

"And what about mine?"

"Yours aren't location appropriate."

"As if you would have let me hit if we were in your apartment."

Han kisses him again. Wrong move.

Minho bites down on his bottom lip. Hard.

Han is still too dramatic about it.

He's still fake crying when Minho slams the car door behind him, grateful for the fresh air and yearning for the privacy of his own bedroom.

"Wait," Han says, opening the door again.

When Minho looks at him over his shoulder, he's nooting.

"Kiss it better?"

Minho flips him off.

He air kisses him, too, but Han is too busy laughing like some portable sunshine to notice.

🐱

It's only a Wednesday, but the bar is packed with people.

There's a bachelorette and a birthday party taking place at once, the band playing is larger than they thought, and even if it's barely eleven, Minho is already exhausted.

"We need to call Felix," Seungmin sighs. "We need the help."

"No, we don't," Minho snaps. "He's rehearsing for his audition. We've got this."

They don't. Jeongin is mixing up tables, which he never does.

"They keep switching places," he laments unloading a tray. "I can't tell who's attending which party anymore."

Minho grits his teeth, apologizing to a customer for skipping his order.

The few waiters he keeps on call are making themselves useful, but they're slow and confused and keep asking questions. For the most part it's not their fault, but Minho's patience is wearing thin.

He almost drops his tray when he sees Han nervously crawling onto a miraculously empty stool.

He's wearing a hoodie, glasses and his discreet Jujutsu Kaisen snapback hat. He's got a laptop bag strapped to his shoulder. He looks like an idol trying to blend in with students in a public library.

He's gorgeous.

"Hey, pretty. The place is packed, hm?" His laughter is a little strained.

It's Minho's fault. He confidently told him Wednesdays were low profile.

"Sorry," he says, but he has no time to elaborate.

People are waiting for drinks, ordering more, asking to swap a liquor for another, or for some weird obscure drink Seungmin doesn't know how to make and he's too cramped to google.

He's about to suggest to Han to leave, when he sees him putting on big noise canceling headphones and setting his computer up on the bar.

He's taking up too much space.

He didn't even ask for a drink.

Minho smiles and wastes the shortest precious amount of time to stare at him.

Work is still a bitch. People bump into Han every second, who's bouncing his leg so hard his shoulders are shaking. Jeongin stops in the middle of the floor with two trays in his hands like he's about to fold over and cry. Seungmin suffers stoically, even when he has to remake a drink three times.

Thankfully, the security is professional enough not to need any direction in breaking up fights and telling people not to climb over the tables.

It helps to sometimes look in Han's direction and find him either scrolling his phone, bangs sweeping his forehead, or staring at the screen blankly hitting a few keys.

It's like rubbing a battery to squeeze a few more minutes of power out of it.

Things eventually, miraculously slow down. They're still running behind on orders, but the partygoers are mostly smashed and only asking for shots now, and Jeonging manages to deliver drinks to the right people without much of an itch.

Minho lets his guard down for a minute.

The tumbler explodes in his hands.

He rattles his body like he's been injured.

He's soaking wet, his shirt sticking to his skin and the thin line of eyeliner he put on is dissolving into his waterline.

He can taste the gin on his lips.

He gags.

He can't stand the taste of gin. Drank one too many glasses at fourteen and got sick for hours.

He runs to the staff room straight to the bathroom, shoves his entire face under the faucet. He even thinks of scrubbing his mouth with soap, before figuring out it would probably just make him gag more.

He's so concentrated in trying to get himself clean that he startles when he feels a hand on his back.

"Are you okay, pretty?"

Minho relaxes quickly, blinking through the watered down mess on his face.

"Peachy," he says, closing the tap and looking up at Han through the mirror. "Almost died of alcohol poisoning, but that's just an occupational hazard."

Han chuckles, his worried frown turning to fondgazing.

"Alcohol poisoning."

"Gin turns my gut inside out," he explains, leaning into it when Han gently fixes his sopping wet hair.

"Do you have a change of clothes I can bring you?"

"I'll do it myself," he sighs. "You shouldn't be back here."

"Seungmin sent me," he replies, but he doesn't insist. He just follows Minho around while he goes fetching another black shirt from his locker.

He doesn't have another undershirt, but he'll make do.

"Sorry," he says, toweling himself dry.

"What for?"

"For unknowingly tricking you. Wednesday really is a slow day for business, but we got two parties and a bigger gig than expected."

Minho leans back into him when Hand puts his hands around his waist.

He leaves a soft kiss on Minho's nape.

"Don't seduce me on the clock," he reprimands him in a rather blissful voice.

"I'm not," Han smiles against his neck. "I'm soothing you."

"Neck kissing won't soothe me," Minho frowns, squeezing one of Han's hands. "Neither will hugging me while I'm half naked."

"It's not my fault if you're horny."

"It literally is?"

Han snickers in his skin.

"I could hear the question marks before that," he smiles. "Ever told you I love how you text?"

"I text very normally."

Han kisses his cheek.

Minho jumps when Han smacks his butt. That's his routine.

"Come on, get dressed. Seungmin needs your ass out there."

"You're the one who's distracting me", Minho whines, putting on the new shirt.

"You looked stressed. Thought I'd give you a mini power up."

What he gave him was a racing pulse.

He eyes Han up and down, figure swallowed by his hot topic hoodie.

"Can I touch your chest?"

Han blushes in delicate splotches.

"No."

"You said you wanted to give me a power up."

"I did. You're obviously feeling better."

"I'd feel even better if you let me feel you up. What do you have tit* for if I can't hold them?"

"First of all I don't have tit*," he says, way too seriously. "I have pecs. And you can't even see them."

"But I know they're there."

Minho zips his jeans down to shove the now buttoned up shirt inside it. He doesn't miss the bobbing in Han's throat.

He raises both of his eyebrows, a cat smile on his lips.

He's about to ask him if he wants a mini power up himself, when the back door opens.

Minho forgets how to breathe out. His legs are heavy.

Felix's blooming grin turns into a hesitant smile when his eyes go past Minho to fixate on Han.

Minho doesn't turn.

"What are you doing here?"

"I finished rehearsal and none of you were texting me back, and then I remembered we were double booked for parties and I figured you might need help. I texted you to let you know."

Always too kind.

Minho should thank him. The silence stretches.

"Hi, Jisung," Felix says, throat closing up.

"Hi, Lix."

Minho swallows down air. Forces him to.

Han's voice sounds level, if a little surprised.

Felix looks between the two of them.

His eyes darken when Minho gives him a little nod, confirming his suspicions before he could ask.

Felix shakes his head, dropping his bag on the table rather than putting it in his locker.

"I'll go help Seungmin."

"But you haven't changed."

Minho doesn't know why he speaks the way he does. Why couldn't he just stay, wait, I'll go, thanks for coming but you don't have to work. You should go rest.

"Seriously, Minho?" Felix asks, tongue poking against his cheek.

I didn't want to hide you.

He closes his eyes just when the door closes behind Felix's back.

He takes a shaky breath, leaning back against the table, hands grabbing the edge of it a little too forcefully.

His eyes flutter open on their own when he hears Han stopping in front of him.

"You work with my ex boyfriend?"

He doesn't look nor sound angry.

He doesn't look like anything. He's serious. Reasonable. Ready to listen.

Minho takes another breath.

"I live with him."

Round eyes. A hint of cruel incredulity in his lips.

"Excuse me?"

"He needed a place to stay after you broke up," he says, factually. Slicks his drying hair back, away from his forehead. "I took him in."

A soft glimpse in his eyes.

"Like a cat?"

Minho nods.

"And you didn't think of telling me?"

Minho opens his mouth, but nothing makes it past it.

He still doesn't know why he didn't.

Why he couldn't.

Why he feels so uncomfortable with the idea of Han being Jisung.

The one that got away. Felix's twin sun.

"Minho," Han says, softly. "I'm not angry with you."

Minho blinks rapidly.

"I'm a little annoyed and mostly confused, but I'm not angry. I'm not going to blow up at you. Give me your hands?"

Minho does. He doesn't want to, but it's intuitive to fill Han's empty hands with his.

They're warm. Just the right size to make him feel safe but not small.

Han is made just for him.

The thought of Felix thinking the same once chokes him.

It shows on his face. He knows because Jisung's eyebrows turn down, his lips pout before he brings his hands up to his mouth and kisses Minho's fingers.

It's too much, how Minho wants more.

He detangles their hands. Han looks hurt, but Minho needs a cigarette.

"I need a smoke."

His hands don't shake when he rummages through his locker to get the cigarettes and the lighter out.

He's fine. As long as he doesn't let himself think that relationships end, that feelings change, that the hurt stays.

He walks out and takes a relieved deep breath when the fresh air hits him.

He sits down on his crate, smoke lulling him to the ground and a hand keeping his hair back.

He turns when the door opens, Han's silhouette dark in the light of the emergency light.

He said he wasn't angry, but he sure looks pissed now.

"Minho," he says, "I don't actually know you enough to know if you want to be left alone or not."

It's gentle. It's factual. It cracks several of Minho's ribs. A clutter of brittle bone shards lodges in his throat.

Minho folds in himself.

Han's right. Of course he's right.

They're strangers. They don't know anything about each other. Two adults playing house, proudly wearing feelings on their sleeves that have nothing to anchor them.

They're a click. Flickering lights.

His eyes are dry.

He doesn't remember when the last time he cried was. Maybe when he realized his mother was a bitch, when he came home for the holidays and there wasn't a room for him to stay in anymore.

He's not sure he cried even then.

"Call me," Han says, voice steady and yet so hauntingly sad.

Minho would love to say he will.

He knows he won't. He'll think he won't know what to say and let it stop him before he even tries.

His fingers are shaking when he takes another drag of blissful, numbing smoke in his mouth. The carcinogenic relief even dulls the sound of the door closing behind him.

After closing, he and Felix both ride home with Seungmin.

He doesn't play any music. Minho sulks in the backseat. He thinks about the last time he was in one, so blissfully happy over nothing.

He misses him.

He hates that he wants to text him but he doesn't know what to say.

He hates that he's doing it all himself. That he has one good thing and he isn't making any effort to keep it.

Maybe it will be better in the morning.

He tells himself that if he wakes up and sees a rainbow, he'll take a picture and send it to Han.

The forecast says no rain will fall in the next couple of days, but he can hope.

Felix doesn't talk to him.

He doesn't talk to him in the car, in the living room, in the bathroom when they run into each other. He looks at him with storms in his eyes, but says nothing.

He's making a point.

He's tired of putting in work even when Minho is the one who should.

Minho gets it loud and clear.

He does nothing about it.

He goes to bed, and he hopes for a rainbow.

There's no rainbow.

The sky is perfectly clear. The air smells dry.

He eats his cereals in slow motion. He has no appetite.

He doesn't move when Felix gets around the house. He keeps glaring at the sunny day like it's his fault Minho is sabotaging himself.

Felix glares at him.

He's not giving him the silent treatment. Minho knows he'll respond if Minho will talk to him.

He doesn't say a word for the whole day.

Not at home, and not at work.

Seungmin does.

"I'm resigning if you don't fix this."

Great. Now he'll be short of a barman, too.

He wants to be held.

He wants to be kissed.

He knows for all his silence Felix will cuddle with him if he asks.

He doesn't.

He wants Han.

It's been five days and it feels like a month. Hours drag by even if he works himself to the bones, finally dealing with all the numbers of owning a business rather than doing just enough to coast by. His accountant asks him if he's okay when he sends him an email on his own volition.

He sends it from Felix's PC.

He tries not to look at his phone.

He knows he won't find a text from Han, he made it clear he's waiting for Minho to tell him how to handle him, but until he doesn't check, he can hope. Schrödinger’s notification.

He checks it on Sunday morning. He doesn't mean to, but he wakes up after a nondescript nightmare that leaves him shaking, and he forgets to check his clock rather than his phone.

He blinks at the instagram logo.

He's still logged into Han's account.

He opens it. It's Chan sending a reel of the cat and the squirrel.

They're curled up on a windowsill.

There's a rainbow outside.

Minho laughs.

It's not a pretty sound. It's shrill and manic, a cry for help more than relief.

It's good enough.

He's out of the house in a hurry. He changes quickly, almost forgets his keys, and goes waiting for the bus without checking the schedule. It's 8am- one will come every fifteen minutes.

He slept maybe a couple hours.

The sun is too harsh for his eyes.

The bench is full, so he leans against the pole, pushing his hair back and away from his face.

A couple of teenagers look at him and giggle. They get scared when he looks at them, and they stare down at the pavement until the bus comes.

He rides the bus in a daze.

He meets people on the stairs of Han's building for once.

Han always opens after one or two knocks, but Minho has to insist until he feels stupid.

When the door opens, Han is pissed. He clearly just woke up, and he's rubbing sleep out of his eyes. His hair is a fluffy shapeless mess.

His mouth hangs open when he sees Minho. It quickly turns into a smile. Then into a scowl.

Minho missed him so much.

"I know you said to call," he says, scratching at his own fingernails. "But I needed to see you."

"Come in," Han says, yawning. He closes the door behind him himself. "Let me get coffee first? Since you dragged me out of bed this early?"

Minho nods. He means it.

He puts his hands on Han's shoulders and kisses him. He jumps, but he doesn't pull away.

Minho does, rather quickly.

Han is still frowning, but he puts a hand in the middle of his back and leans forward to give him a longer kiss, lips just pressing together.

Minho purrs.

They do fit together like they're each other's mould.

That's something Felix could never say. Wrong shapes.

It's not an observation born out of pettiness. It's scraps of reassurance that he and Han are different. More right for each other. That it won't end.

"Coffee," Han mumbles, padding to the kitchen after a quick pat on Minho's hip.

Minho follows, pushing his hair back.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Without thinking, he wore his uniform. Black button-up, black jeans. The purple in his hair has faded so much that it's now pale lavender, a sharp contrast with his dark regrowth. His skin has a gray tinge. His dark circles look like bruises.

He looks hot.

He blinks at himself a couple of times, not sure how to feel about looking that good when he's wrecked. He sits down at the table while Han pours himself a generous cup of coffee and fishes chocolate cookies out of the pantry.

Minho accepts one when Han hands it to him after sitting down in front of him. He nibbles on it not sure whether it will upset his stomach or help ease the dread.

"So," Han says, cheeks round as he chews. "You've got something to tell me?"

Minho nods. Another nibble.

"I haven't talked to my mother in years."

Han frowns.

It's a very serious expression for someone that looks that round.

"We used to be very close. It's always been just the two of us, we not only loved each other but we really liked each other, too. She was always smiling, always supporting me. Even when she got married, she always put me first." He crumbles the cookie between his fingers, already fatigued from shaping up thoughts he’d rather not linger on. "That is until I f*cked up my leg. I discovered then that what she loved wasn't me, but what I could do. The point is," he takes a deep breath. "I'm afraid of good things ending. Of feelings changing."

Han hums. His mouth is a little slanted.

"Noted," he says, like they're talking about taxes, dunking half a cookie in his coffee. "What does that have to do with you not telling me you're sleeping next door to my ex, now?"

He isn't angry his ass.

"That you're his favorite," he mouths. "That you were his best friend. That you were his match. And now you're not anymore."

Han huffs a rather dismissive snort.

"Yeah, that's because he feels guilty."

Minho blinks.

He stops worrying at his upper teeth.

"Huh?"

"He left our apartment without telling me sh*t. I got home one day and his stuff wasn't there. He just got up and left, no note, no text, nothing."

Minho blinks again.

"But."

"I know," Han snorts again, eyes round. "Ironic, considering how much he'd harp on me for not communicating properly."

Minho would like to say he can't imagine Felix doing it. Be the loyal friend he used to be before Han Jisung.

But he can't.

Not with Felix giving up on him. Giving him signs he's got sh*t to talk about but not initiating a discussion anymore. Because he thinks it's fruitless.

Han sighs, rubs his hands over his face.

"Ugh," he groans. "It's too early to revisit my backstory."

Minho smiles. Can't help it.

"You're right. My bad for not considering you're a night time NPC."

Han glares at him between his fingers.

"Who are you calling an NPC?"

"You. You're not scripted to talk in the mornings."

"I'm scripted not to talk at all."

Minho raises his eyebrows with a lazy smile.

"Not to talk about anything of substance," Han amends with a deep sigh. He moves the mug out of the way and rests his chin between his crossed arms. "Look, me and Felix, it was a big whole mess. I loved him, I really did, but- I need time. I need to figure my sh*t out by myself. And I do like to sprout romantic sh*t from time to time, but it's all-" he exhales a frustrated sigh. "You know how I talk, Minho. It's all metaphors and imagery, and fabricated sh*t to try and make feelings make sense, because otherwise they haunt me like a word you've got on the tip of your tongue."

"Yeah, I know," Minho nods softly. It's what he admires the most out of him. "I like it."

"I know you do," Han says smugly, just a little flirty. There's a pretty at the end of it he doesn't need to voice. "He thought he did. Until he found out it's the only way I feel things, and that it's not spontaneous. He needs to talk about things and feelings as soon as they happen to be at peace. It was hard for us to make it work, and we didn't manage to. We had something good, but it ended up making both of us feel lonely."

Minho is hesitant. He chews at his cuticles.

"But if you're sh*t at talking and I'm sh*t at talking, won't that happen to us, too?"

"We do talk," Han smiles. "We're talking now."

"I had to force a sign from the universe to get here."

"But you did," Han chuckles. "And you told me what you're scared of. I don't need to know anything more."

"I like you too much."

Han's eyes blow round, his mouth slack.

Minho has no f*cking clue where that came from. The tightness in his chest, maybe. The floaty pressure in his head.

"I want to eat you," he continues, because somehow that's less embarrassing. "I want to chew on you like you're a squeaky toy. You make me feel too safe, and that makes me feel unsafe. I don't know how to stop being afraid."

"You don't have to," Han says, reaching out, empty palm facing up for Minho to fill it. He does. "Just keep doing it scared. It's working for us."

Minho's eyelashes flutter. His heartbeat hiccups.

"Hm?"

"Hm what?" Han teases him, a beautiful shy smile on his lips. "You think you're the only one who thinks this is insane? I don't let people take this much space around me, Minho. I'm terrified of you."

"But you seeked me out," he mouths. "You got my number from Chan, you asked me to go out."

"I did it scared," he nods, intertwining their fingers in a different pattern. "Sorry to break it to you, but I have no idea what I'm doing with you."

"Liar."

Han laughs, heart smile beaming.

"What do you mean, liar?"

"You know exactly what you're doing with me, you arrogant little squirrel."

Han trashes around like a whiny critter.

"Don't talk to me like that, all I hear is Changbin. Worst turn off of the century."

"You are, though," Minho doubles down, standing up to go sit in Han's lap.

He feels more at ease the second he's got his thighs around him, his hands on his shoulders. Worries melt away when Han holds his waist.

"You saw me and you thought you could get me, didn't you?"

Han makes a self-conscious little laugh. Minho loves it.

"It looked like you wanted me to? Get you?"

"I did," Minho admits, kissing his lips. "I wanted you so bad."

Whatever Han wanted to say gets bitten off by Minho.

It's a kiss so filthy that it makes him a little ashamed. It belongs after hours of sweaty sex, not at ten in the morning in the middle of a conversation.

Han scales it down with sweet little pecks and gentle squeezing of his thighs.

"I want you," Minho pants against his mouth.

A heart shaped smirk.

"I know."

"f*cking liar," Minho mumbles, wrangling his hand in Han's hair, pulling back to expose his throat. "You don't know what you're doing with me," he mocks. "Sure."

Han laughs, but it's breathy. It turns into a moan the minute Minho sucks on his neck. He doesn't bother to ask if he can leave a mark: the intent is obvious, and Han would have stopped him already. He grips his thighs harder instead.

"Minho-" his voice is so deep. So smooth.

Minho drinks it, letting cognac warm his throat. Sting it, too.

He's a cat. He gets attention when he wants it.

Han holds him closer. He curls his fingers under Minho's chin.

Minho melts into it.

His adrenaline is crashing.

They're good. Han gets him. Han's got him.

If Minho asked, he would have sat down in Seungmin's spot in the emergency light until Minho felt better.

"I wanted you to stay," he mouths softly, lips tender against Han's cheek.

"I thought so."

"Why didn't you?" A kiss on his nose.

Han bunches up the fabric of shirt in his hand, the heel of his palm digging into his back. He looks a little ashamed, a little amused.

"Because I was sulking," he confesses. "You didn't tell me about Felix, you pushed me away and you left me standing in the staff room. Thought maybe I got you wrong. Wanted to hear you say I didn't."

Another peck, lips fitting together.

"You didn't. You get me."

"I've got you."

Minho bites his cheek, hand still tugging his hair back.

"f*ck me."

"Nah-ah," Han shakes his head.

Minho rolls his eyes, slumps against him in a rather unsexy way. He lets his hair go, cradles his neck.

"Nap?" Han asks, brushing Minho's hair back behind his ears. "I went to sleep at five in the morning, I'm exhausted. And you look like sh*t."

Minho is offended. Flabbergasted.

He shuts his eyes and vibrates in confusion, vocal command rejected by his script. Han laughs and holds him, arms loosely wrapped around him.

"Relatively speaking," he amends, amused. "I like you better when you're well rested and puffy faced."

"My face isn't puffy."

Han squeezes one of his cheeks. Minho bites his hand. He shouldn't be surprised when Han nuzzles his fingers against his mouth. Minho hums, kissing them, pushing his lips against the soft skin.

His adrenaline crashes.

He's pacified.

He's safe and sound in Han's arms and he's staying there.

Han and Felix weren't a match, and they ended.

Minho and Han are, and they won't. He says so.

His mind is hazy with sleep. His head falls a little to the side before he catches himself.

"Bed?"

"Don't wanna walk."

Han sighs. He sighs deeper. Minho opens his eyes just enough to see him pushing his short sleeves up to his shoulders, arms flexing.

"If we both fall down, or I pull my back, it's your fault."

"It's not like you're using your back for much."

"I need my back for more than f*cking you."

"Says who."

Han laughs, readjusts Minho around him.

He encourages him by scratching his nape. Han's mouth is pressed in a determined line, his brow laced with regret. His eyes are sleepy and narrow, pondering.

Maybe it is a compliment, to be called puffy faced. It certainly is when Minho thinks it about Han.

Han starts sitting up, but he soon squirms in place.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm admiring your efforts."

"Don't. I'll crumble to the pressure and I'll throw it and make a joke out of it before I can fail."

"Is that why you're not f*cking me? You're feeling the pressure? I can f*ck you if you want to. I'll do it for you."

A breathless two timed laugh.

"Oh, well, thank you for your generosity."

"It's a lot of work and I'm lazy, I don't do it just for any- oh."

He cuts his breath off when Han stands up.

He makes himself as useful as he can, tucking himself tight around him.

For a quokka that made such a big deal about it, he's surprisingly swift about carrying him to the bed. He even drops the pinched up eyes look, bar when he readjusts Minho by locking an arm under his thighs.

Minho innocently grinds against him.

"I'll drop you."

"I didn't do anything."

"Lino," he says, in a huffed breath. "We won't f*ck for the first time when we can barely keep our eyes open."

"Always ready with an excuse," Minho mumbles, oofing with a labored breath when Han drops him unceremoniously over the undone sheets of his bed.

It smells so good. Warm. Saltwatery. He kicks off his shoes and climbs back, laughing fondly while Han hisses and flattens his hands against his back.

"I'm not that heavy," Minho protests, kicking his feet. "And what do you work out for if not for carrying pretty boys?"

"To avoid fighting with Changbin every minute of my life," he says right away, climbing in bed next to Minho. "Now nap."

He tucks his face in Minho's neck, tangling their legs together and pawing at his shirt.

Minho keeps him close, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his belt around his hips or the stretch of the fabric of his shirt behind his shoulder blades. Or the lack of a pillow.

They fall asleep in minutes, laying across the bed in disordinate lines.

Minho is safe.

He's not getting returned to the shelter just yet. Maybe ever.

Han has chokers. They all look like they come from Hot Topic. He must use them when he performs, because they clash with the fashionable relaxed fits he wears on the daily.

Minho discovers them when he inspects his room like a cat mapping a new space, opening drawers and moving things around just to try it.

Han looks at him from the bed with such a stupidly fond gaze Minho doesn't entertain him.

He showered. Just to use Han's body wash and smell like him. It's an obnoxiously boy scent. He loves it. He's stealing it.

"All these collars and no handcuffs?" He jokes, holding up his favorite one, a discreet black strap with a heart shaped buckle.

It's nicer to the touch than he expected. The leather is soft and it's lined with fabric.

"They're a fashion statement, you fiend," Han whines, trashing his leg around the sheets absentmindedly. "You'd know if you watched a single 3racha performance."

"We can't always have what we want."

It's a nice way to say he's withholding groupie duties as long as Han withhold sex from him. It's just fair.

Han groans and whines. He makes grabby hands at him.

"Come here. You're too far away."

Minho puts the choker down and doesn't bother closing the drawer again. He crawls on top of Han, kissing him just because he can.

"Say," he asks, relishing in the feeling of Han's hand running smoothly up his spine, bunching up the shirt he stole as it goes. "What do you think about getting a cat?"

"Well, I was actually thinking of marrying one- ouch! Don't bite me!"

Minho licks the spot on his bicep he munched down on. His ears are warm.

"I want a cat."

"Then get one."

"I can't," he sighs. "Apartment policy. I wanted to disregard it, but it's big and cheap and it's just in front of the night bus stop. I don't want to risk it."

"Okay. You can have a cat and keep it here."

Minho blinks rapidly.

"Hm?"

Han smiles, heart-shaped sunshine.

"Might help with your fears, too. We can't just break up and go on our ways if there's children involved, do we?"

Minho pouts. His heart is racing.

"Don't mock me."

"I'm not. I'm serious. We can get a cat."

He blinks.

"When?"

"Soon," he smiles, brushing Minho's hair back. "Well, soon-ish. We're dropping the album in a week and I'll have a f*cked up schedule. I don't want the kitten to feel lonely."

"You're serious."

Han nods.

Minho borrows his face in Han's chest.

He's feeling too much. It's all in his throat.

He needs to thank Chan for the rainbow. He'll cook all of his favorite foods.

He's dozing off again when a loud alarm blares from somewhere in the apartment.

"f*ck," Han complains, gently sitting up. "I have to go to work."

Minho plops to his side at a weird angle.

"But the kitten will feel lonely."

"The kitten will live," Han says, kissing his hair. "I don't know when I'll be back. You can stay as long as you want."

It's past 2pm. He has to go grocery shopping and go to work, too. Possibly talk to Felix before the endorphins fade.

"Why is your alarm so far away?"

"So that I have to get up to make it stop."

It makes sense.

It's annoying.

Minho borrows his face in the sheets, bunching up some fabric against his mouth and breathing in.

"Hannie," he calls when he gets back from the quickest shower known to man. "What does Chan feed on?"

"Large volumes of food," he says, putting on a thin striped sweater on top of oversized jeans. "Why?"

Minho stops with his mouth open. Han walked in front of the choker drawer.

"You liked this one?" He asks, picking up Minho's favorite.

He hums. He blinks, staring at Han undoing the button to wear it.

"I liked it for me," Minho says, blushing, mouth still buried in the sheets.

Han turns to him and stares. Too much. His face turns gloriously smug. It's reprehensible.

Minho throws him a pillow.

He laughs and leaves it on the ground.

Minho sits up prettily. He's already embarrassed himself enough by saying it, he won't back down.

He shudders when Han slips the choker around his neck, fastening it just enough that Minho can barely feel it around his neck, but tight enough so that it will stay put.

He noots, fishing for a kiss, but Han just taps his mouth with his fingers.

Minho sighs, content all the same.

🐱

"Hey."

Felix looks in outrage at the headphones Minho ripped off his head.

"I'm in the middle of a match!"

"You're losing, anyway."

Felix smacks him. Minho can't really blame him.

"I wasn't hiding you," he says, shuffling on his feet.

Felix pushes his tongue in his cheek.

"Okay, I was," he amends. "I have issues with things ending. It's nothing serious. I'm handling it."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," he insists. "I went to Hannie. We're good."

Felix borrows his brows in worry.

"You had a fight? Because of me?"

"No, I just have issues. Which I'm handling."

Felix takes a pained breath. Minho isn't being difficult on purpose. He wishes he could tell him.

"He gets me," he says, shy. "I don't want to lose him, and I don't want to lose you."

"I know," Felix stresses, stern. "I don't want to lose you either, Minho. I really care about you."

Minho nods. He gives Felix his headphones back.

"He told me you walked out on him."

His cheeks flush red.

"I'm not proud of it."

"That's why you never told us what happened?"

He nods.

"And because it hurt." Minho winces. "Would it help? If we talked about him?" Felix asked.

"I don't know," Minho admits.

Felix reaches out to squeeze his wrist, warm hand rubbing his skin. He seems surprised when Minho doesn't even pretend to pull back.

"Don't make yourself sad over me, Minho."

"I hate that it's him."

"I hate it, too," Felix smiles. "Couldn't have you fallen madly in love with Changbin?"

"No," he says, quickly. "And I'm not madly in love."

"No? Then I won't accept you screwing my ex. Break up with him."

He shows his teeth.

"No."

Felix laughs. He squeezes both of Minho's forearms.

"You're adorable."

Minho shows even more of his teeth.

"No."

Felix's smile dims out, gets more nervous as his thumbs dig in Minho's skin.

"Would you consider us all getting together?" he says. "Now that we all know we exist? It might help me deal with it better, force me to face that he's a stranger now."

Minho laughs sarcastically with very little effort.

He tilts his head to the side, trying to fix his bangs without asking for his hands back.

"I can ask him to come by after closing."

"I'd like that," Felix smiles. "It'll make Seungminnie happy, too. He couldn't stop talking about J.One working on a track at his bar."

Knowing Seungmin, he mentioned it once and will deny it if asked.

"Oh, God," Felix's face falls. "I was about to say maybe Jisung could bring some friends, too, but then I realized." He frees Minho to bury his face in his hands. "I hate you, Minho. I hate you so much. You can't bring all of my exes back into my life."

Minho snorts.

It will never not be funny.

🐱

"Looks like I won't have to find another job," Seungmin says when they take their third break, leaving Felix to deal with the few customers at the bar. It's a late Monday night, and no one is searching for anything more complicated than a beer or the last shot.

"Feel free," Minho says, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Just put in your two years notice."

Seungmin laughs against his will.

"I've heard your boyfriend is showing up tonight."

"Felix's idea," Minho says, tapping his head against the wall. "He's really trying to make this work."

"Yeah, well. If he plays it right, he'll get his favorite back."

Something ugly rears in Minho's chest.

He turns his head to the side.

"Hm?"

Seungmin doesn't hear him. He's checking his smartwatch.

"Jeongin is coming, too. Good luck to your squirrel boy."

"He doesn't need it."

"Oh, yeah. He's so big and scary."

"He's got sharp teeth," Minho says, defending himself for feeling so safe around Han, more than he's defending Han himself.

"Good, because I'm betting on him." He pats Minho's shoulder and opens the door. "Finish your cancer stick and get in. I don't want to work tonight."

Minho takes a quick drag.

He never thought about it like that. How they're strangers now, but they're about not to be anymore.

He makes the last drag long, thick and smokey.

Han gets there just after closing.

He's dressed up. He's wearing hoop earrings and tight jeans, and his 3racha shirt has a wide, round neckline that shows way too much of his chest. The flannel shirt he threw over it is pooling at his elbows.

His eye make-up is smudged, like he put it on and washed it off in a hurry.

Minho knows it's common practice to dress up to meet your ex. Show up at your best, letting them see what they've been missing.

He curls his fingers in Han's slu*tty shirt and licks into his mouth when he leans over the counter to peck him.

Han chuckles and cups the back of his head. His fingers catch the edge of the choker. Minho meowls. Internally.

"I thought you were trying to make it okay with Lix, baby, not to make him want to leave your house."

Minho pulls back quickly.

Luckily Felix is in the back dealing with stock orders.

"Hello, Han."

"Hi, Seungmin. Thanks for keeping an eye on my laptop the other night."

Entrusted with the safety of J.One's laptop. Probably one of Seungmin's best nights. No wonder he mentioned it once.

"If your album leaks, you know who to blame."

"We're thinking he copied everything on a pen drive like in a y2k spy movie?"

We. Minho smiles at the glass he should be drying.

The giddiness is short-lived. The back door opens with a loud groan to follow.

"The computer launched an update while I was finalizing an order, tell me it won't f*ck everything up."

"It shouldn't," Seungmin answers, even if Felix won't hear a word of it.

Minho feels like he's looking at some k-drama scene. The charged looks. Felix swallowing. Han shuffling on his feet. There's episodes of lore Minho skipped, a late addition to the cast into the second season.

"Hi, Lix. Nice to see you're alive and kicking."

Felix snorts a resentful laugh.

"I let you know I was okay."

"Yeah, with a postcard. Do you know how often I check my mailbox?"

"Yes," he nods. "Never, if I didn't nag you about it."

Han looks exasperated. It's cute.

Minho keeps picking at the friendship bracelet he dug out of a drawer to replace the one he broke.

"I'll have a shot," Seungmin announces, opening an almost empty bottle of raspberry vodka.

"Are you paying for that?" Minho asks, eyebrow raised.

"Yes," Seungmin lies. "Here."

Minho accepts the shot glass and knocks it out in one go.

When he puts it down, Han is distractedly looking at Felix. Like he doesn't know he's doing it.

Minho needs something to chew on.

He wants his attention. He doesn't know how to ask without reaching out and touching him. He doesn't feel comfortable doing it if Felix is watching.

Seungmin gets Han a shot, too.

"You're drinking liquor, now?" Felix asks.

"One shot won't kill me," Han mumbles, putting the glass back on the counter. "I'll let you know I make it to three beers, now."

Felix laughs softly. Minho's skin crawl. He gets out from behind the counter, sitting on the stool next to where Han is standing.

"Finally," he smiles, briefly touching his chin. "I was wondering if I was ever going to see your legs tonight."

"Legs?" Minho asks with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Or thighs?"

"Let's not nitpick," Han smiles, giving a good squeeze to Minho's thigh.

Minho puts his foot on Han's stool.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" Han asks Seungmin, showing off his neck as he turns to look at him. "I watch you clean up?"

"Pretty much. We usually play charades."

"Nice," Han hums. "I'm a pro at charades. When do we start?"

"After Jeongin gets here," Seungmin says. "If you manage to stay alive."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That the fox is out for blood."

Han's whole face turns down.

"What did I ever do to him?"

"More like who did you ever do."

"Oh," Han elongates. "Right. Scummy ex boyfriend."

"You're not scummy," Felix grumbles. "And I never said anything bad about you."

"It's true," Seungmin confirms, wiping down the counter. "I know you as a manic pixie dream boy."

"Well, that's not fair," Han whines, fingers tightening around Minho's as soon as he gets his hand on top of his. "I've been talking sh*t about you."

"Oh, did you, now?"

"Kind of hard not to, when you wake up single out of the blue."

"Out of the blue," Felix repeats. "Interesting."

"Whatever," Han sulks after a rather long pause. "I'm over it. I'm zen. Who cares about my hurt pride."

"Your pride," Felix repeats, in a more annoying voice. "Interesting."

Han makes an oh sound, ready to strike, but he lets it go. He looks quickly down at his hand and then up at Minho.

Minho squeezed his hand. Hard. He knows because he's clutching at Han's fingers so hard that he might lose some circulation.

Han leans over, pushing their shoulders together.

"Hi, you," he says, smiling proudly. "You're being quiet."

"I'm eepy."

Han sees right through it, but he says nothing. It's so quiet in the bar that even a whisper wouldn't be private.

"Would a little kissing in the staff room wake you up?"

Minho narrows his eyes, pretends to think about it.

His teasing is cut off by Jeongin walking in from the front door.

"Oh, look," he says, rather than say hi back to Felix and Seungmin. "It's the recycled boyfriend."

"Jeongin!" Felix almost barks.

Han is wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, though.

"Hoping to recycle me one more time?"

"I've changed my mind," Jeongin says. "I don't want to be here."

They all laugh, which makes Jeongin even more distraught.

They play a nice game of charades, which leaves Han knowing a fair amount of their inside jokes thanks to the clues they give.

Minho almost forgot about the unsettling probing in his sternum until Han claps his hands and points at Felix for his last clue.

"Your aunt at your mom's birthday party!"

Felix laughs with all of his might.

"The guy saving his margaritas in Jurassic World!" He guesses correctly.

"What did your aunt have to save margaritas from?" Jeongin asks.

Minho doesn't really listen to Felix's answer. He's looking at Han, whose small, nostalgic smile is not something he's familiar with.

It's not something he wants to be familiar with.

Something he ever wanted to see.

When Han catches him staring, he opens in a beautiful heart shaped smile that bunches his cheeks up and curls his eyes in crescent moons.

It's enough to clear up his head.

He sticks to Han's side for the rest of the night. Close enough that he's not sure who's touching who. He makes it a point to never look at Felix for more than the time it takes to answer a question.

"Is that a choker?" Jeongin asks, unimpressed, well after the time he must have noticed. Like he worked himself up to ask the question. "Did you go shopping at Hot Topic?"

"It's Y/Project," Han says, touching it with the side of his finger. "Kitten has an eye for fancy accessories."

He's past his second beer. Minho's ear blush but his smile stays smug.

"Did you buy him a collar? What kind of fetish are you imposing on me?"

"It's a normal ass choker," Han bites back. "And I didn't buy it for him, it's one of mines."

"Don't justify yourself, Hannie," Minho says even if it's fun. "He's just jealous that I let you handle me."

"Don't make it worse!" Han tells him, slapping him on his arm. "I swear to God, you gay people."

"You're gay," Seungmin says.

"Did you just assume my sexual orientation?" Han asks, for sh*ts and giggles.

"You just said, I quote, I swear to God, you gay people," Jeongin says, tired. "He's not the one assuming."

"He's bi," Felix sighs. "And Jeongin is straight, by the way."

"No, he's not. He-" Han bites his tongue. He hits his head cutely. "Nope. He-he. Bad memory."

Jeongin sighs. Loudly.

"You saw me giving my number to Hyunjin, I assume. I did it for artistic purposes. I need a new model for a shooting."

"So that's the face of hypocrisy," Minho lulls in his mouth.

"How am I a hypocrite? I literally approached the one guy at the table that Felix didn't f*ck."

They all snicker.

Not Felix and Han, who both look confused.

"Huh?" Han asks, tugging Minho's sleeve. "Who did Felix f*ck?"

"What table?" Felix asks.

Oh, right.

f*ck.

Minho might be a little tipsy.

He opens his mouth, but he laughs again.

"The Felixf*ckers came in for drinks a while ago," Seungmin explains. "That's when the lovebirds met, by the way."

"The what?" Han asks, eyes wide open. He looks both lost and over the moon.

"You don't know?" Jeongin asks, looking at him intently. "Felix f*cked your whole band."

"Excuse me?" Han yells with appropriate enthusiasm.

Felix is fake sobbing into Seungmin's shoulder, shaking him.

"Help me," he begs in a funereal voice. "Someone help me. Please drag me to the underground now."

"Wait, you f*cked Changbin?" Han asks, standing up on his knees and pointing at him. "Are you serious?"

"He's f*cked you, and he's hotter than you," Seungmin says, ever the SpearB stan.

"No, he's f*cking not. Minho is hotter than me, and I would resent him for it if he wasn't mine."

Minho preens.

"Who even asked," Jeongin sighs.

"When did that even happen?"

"You know when that happened," Felix mumbles aggressively.

Silence falls while Han thinks, eyes narrowed in concentration.

"No," he says after a second. "It can't be."

"I dated three guys, Jisung. It doesn't take a genius."

"You f*cked Changbin in college?" Han asks, yelling even louder. "When he was skinny?"

"He was hot!" Felix yells back.

"Changbin is your perfect one night stand? Top four nights of your life?"

"Can you not?" Felix shrieks.

"Changbin won the best sex award when we ranked the Felixf*ckers," Jeongin informs him.

Minho wishes he could laugh a little less, just to properly enjoy Han sputtering single words and strangled noises.

Somehow, he's the one who gets slapped.

"Stop laughing! Defend my honor!"

"If only I could."

Jeonging howls.

Minho clutches his arm and screams without sound when Han hits him again.

"There's your honor on the line, too!" He tells him. "Do you want to be known as someone who puts up with bad sex? And you," he turns to Felix. "How could you."

"It was my first time and he made me feel beautiful!" Felix protests. "It's a special memory, okay?"

"Well, it was my first time with a guy when we f*cked and you made me feel beautiful, too, but I can recognize the actual sex itself was bad! Be a little objective, will you?"

"Excuse me if I value the experience and my feelings more than how hard someone made me come!"

"Bullsh*t. We've been together for two years and never once have I made you feel better than Changbin did? Really?"

"Stop digging your own grave, man," Seungmin suggests, taking a swing of beer. "Take the L."

Han shouts. It sounds like that video of that one screaming marmot, just a little more high-pitched.

Minho would take great joy in it, if he wasn't feeling sick.

He squeaks when Han collapses on top of him, borrowing his face in his chest.

"Traitor."

Minho smiles, but it feels tight. He pets Han's hair, scratches his fuzzy nape.

"It's not my fault I can't defend you," he tries to tease.

Han props himself up just enough so he can look at him with wide eyes. He's pouting.

"Are you okay?"

Minho bumps his head against his.

"Eepy."

His eyelashes flutter close when Han rests his lips against Minho's, barely applying any pressure.

"Why do I have to see this?" Jeongin whines. "Why did I come here?"

"To see why I encouraged Minho to recycle a boyfriend," Seungmin answers.

Han pulls away, no doubt to get back at them, but Minho curls a hand in shirt and kisses him again.

He needs him close.

He needs to be reminded how well they fit together, to be sure it isn't just his imagination.

That it doesn't matter if Felix was his first time with a guy, because Minho will be his last.

He sighs when Han squeezes his waist.

"Come home with me?" He asks.

Minho nods.

He makes Han struggle to get him on his feet, only really helping for the final hop, and glues himself to his side and his hand to his ass.

"I'm bringing the sleepy kitten home with me," Han laughs quietly. "It's been a great game of charades. Felix," he smiles. "I'd give you Binnie's number, but he's got a hot piece of ass, so."

"Shut the f*ck up, Jisung," Felix mumbles. "Go home with your pretty boyfriend and leave me alone."

"I can do that and be petty. I have range."

"Make sure to close the back door, too, Lixie," Minho says.

"Of course," Felix says like Minho nagged him.

He lets it go. He's not in the mood for playful scolding.

He holds Han's hand all the way to his car, and takes it again when he starts it. He puts it on his thigh and plays with his rings.

Somehow, what comes out of his mouth as the streetlights go is: "you dressed up."

"Hm?" He glances down at himself. "Ah, yah. We took some promo pictures with the guys. Thought you'd appreciate the low cut."

Minho takes a deep breath. He feels better, just like that.

"Took some boypaper selfie, too?"

"Uh, no. Should I have?"

Minho blinks.

"Have you been stupid all along?"

"Yah! I thought you didn't like my pretty face to be on the back of people's phones."

"I don't, but we'll have a cat to feed soon. You have to work hard."

Two-timed laugh. Small smirk.

Minho loves it all.

He loves every expression he makes, every little sound that gets past his lips.

He won't make Han feel beautiful when they have sex. He'll make him feel special. He'll worship him until he feels adored.

"Minho," he whines. "Stop looking at me like that."

"But you're cute."

"So are you, but I still manage to keep my eyes on the road."

"That's why you're driving."

He laughs. Minho leans over to kiss his cheek.

"Oh," Han says, out of the blue. "I creatively acquired that horror movie we wanted to watch."

Minho is so, so warm. He feels like a toasted marshmallow.

"Can we watch it tonight?"

"Sure. We can do whatever you want, kitten."

"Whatever I want?" He asks, with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

Han sighs.

"Nice to hear you still want me after I got a worse grade than Changbin in sex."

Minho laughs again.

"What's wrong with Changbin?"

"Aside from our charming boyish rivalry, you mean?"

"Childish."

"Charming. And I don't know, everytime Hyunjin praises him when we call each other a bad f*ck It just gives me the ick. He sounds so mushy. The type to talk down to you like you're a f*cking child taking his first steps everytime you do as much as whimper. Ew. I don't like that."

"Don't use children in your sex metaphor."

He gets a slap on his thigh.

"You got what I meant."

"No condescending baby talk with you, I got it," he says. "You're a big boy. You don't need daddy to tell you- hss." He screams wordlessly, clutching his boob where Han punched him without mercy.

"I'm never sleeping with you now. Never. And I'm not breaking up with you, or let you hook up with anyone else. Enjoy your sexless life, my Lee Minho."

Minho was determined to make fun of him, but he gets distracted.

"Call me that again."

"Your government name?"

"Hm-hm."

"Okay, Lee Minho."

He pokes his bicep.

"Say it properly."

"My Lee Minho?"

Minho hums, satisfied.

"Just like that. You're very good at following instructions."

Han raises a cute fist at him, a feisty frown on his face.

"Okay, okay," Minho smiles, kidnapping his hand again. "I'll stop."

"I hear a for now attached to that."

"You hear voices?"

"Hm-hm," he nods. "Must be your ghost trying to contact me. You died of sexual frustration, by the way. Since you kept making fun of me you never got to sleep with me and your heart eventually gave in."

"Can't have that," he mocks. "I'd better be a good kitten for you."

"Minho."

"Yes?"

"Stop it."

Minho giggles, locking their fingers together.

He closes his eyes for a second, trying to get comfortable on the headrest.

He takes a deep sigh when Han gets his hand free and squeezes his thigh again. He pushes it higher this time, fingers sneaking to the inside of his leg.

"I'm not turning you down because I'm not dying to touch you, Minho," he says, voice smooth, like it's something to be said while they drive downtown way past 3am on a Monday. "I just- you know when you're craving, let's say, pudding, and then when you finally get to eat it you inhale it and you almost don't taste it? I don't want to inhale you. I want to make sure I enjoy every bite."

Minho is fine. He's cool.

His thigh isn't burning up, his hand isn't filled with disconnected flashes of Han devouring him impatiently.

"Restriction leads to binge eating," he says, swallowing drily, eyes still closed.

"True." It's so low, so deep, so smooth. Minho's breath itches.

Nothing follows. It feels like it should. Like there's a longer sentence to come, a teaser of some sort.

When Minho opens his eyes, Han is looking in front of him like it's the only direction that exists.

Minho smiles.

They kiss in the elevator. They kiss while Han fumbles with his keys to open the door. They kiss while they kick off their shoes, walking to the bed.

When Han pulls alway, it's to kiss down Minho's neck. He bites the choker. His teeth scrape Minho's skin.

He still mourns the loss of his mouth against his.

He wraps his thighs around Han's waist. Han doesn't stop him.

"I won't make fun of you if you come in your pants, if you won't make fun of me," Han chuckles, breathless, grinding down on him.

Minho giggles. He would love to tease him, but he's distracted by the texture of Han's hair between his fingers. By the soft pressure of his bottom lip on his collarbone.

He yanks him up and kisses him again. Han yelps in his mouth, but he kisses him right back.

He digs his heels under Han's ass. Their jeans are too thick to get any real pressure, but a challenge has been perceived, and he's not backing down.

"Hannie," he pants in his mouth, both hands wrapped gently around his neck, thumbs ever so lightly pressing down on the heart shape of his Adam's apple. He can feel him swallowing.

"Tell me, baby."

"What if I want you to inhale me?"

A kiss. Han undoing one more button on his shirt.

"Stop tempting me."

"I want you so bad."

"You have me."

A kiss down his chest.

He curls one hand on the back of his shirt, another one in his hair.

"There's no hurry," Han says. "We have time."

They do.

They're not letting go.

They won't stop fitting together, they're made to be a set.

When he doesn't spiral in past worries, Minho believes it at an intuitive level.

He moans when Han kisses him lower down his chest.

He knows he will stop at his belt. Kiss his way up. It's okay. He knows what Han looks like looking up at him from between his legs, now. How it feels to hold his hair and nudge him closer to his skin.

He almost loses it when Han mouths at him over his jeans. It's brief. It's nothing.

God, how Minho needed it.

How he needed to hear Han panting in the silence of the room. To have his thighs spread open. To see Han's co*cky, annoying grin when he leans over Minho, elbows to the side of his face.

He whimpers when Han kisses his neck again.

In a fleeting moment of lucidity, just before Han starts grinding down on him, Minho flips them over.

Han looks terrified for a moment, then enticed. His eyes grow round. His mouth agape.

Minho pushes his hair back up his forehead, keeps them there.

He sits on his lap, and watches as Han tries to resist closing his eyes.

"You like having me over you, Hannie?"

"I like having you everywhere," he mouths, voice deep and breathy.

His hands find Minho's thigh again. He squeezes so hard Minho thinks it might have bruised him if there had been no fabric between them.

He pulls Han up by the front of his slu*tty shirt until they're both sitting.

He doesn't know how long they kiss like that. He knows that the knowledge that this is it, this is what he gets tonight, is making him indulge in every touch, every kiss, every sound.

Every bite.

Han smiles at him like he's too beautiful not to, and Minho feels silly. He's not ashamed to make himself pretty and pliant in Han's arms and lets him grind into the mattress, fully clothed, like horny teenagers too shy to take the next step. He has time to give back.

They watch that horror movie. They talk all the way through it, and Han calls half of the twists and complains that they don't know how to write good bad movies anymore when his predictions turn out wrong.

Minho would say more, but he's busy sucking on Han's fingers for most of the movie, and he sometimes misses the right timing.

Wrapped up like this in the early hours of the morning, wearing clothes that smell like Han and getting to listen to his voice just saying whatever comes to his mind, Minho barely remembers what got him into a bad mood earlier, at the bar.

He's sleepy, he's warm, he's understood.

He must have been tired.

🐱

He shuffles on his feet in front of the door, too busy texting Han to open it.

He's sending him sound bites and Minho is refusing to listen to them. Han whined that since he gave him a teaser, Minho should listen to some of his music, and Minho would agree it's fair, but he loves teasing him more. Telling him that if he's only touching him to get another groupie he'll die sexually frustrated.

He loves to rile Han up. He knows perfectly well he's being taunted, but can't help himself from arguing.

It's easy to love everything about Han when so much of it is a reflection of himself, distorted just enough that the images complement each other rather than overlap.

He jumps when the door opens.

Felix is dressed and combed, freckles in full display despite the makeup on his eyes.

"Stop giggling outside the door. It's creepy. I thought we had a ghost."

"We do," he replies, texting a random sticker to Han before slipping the phone into his pocket. "He's friendly."

He shudders.

"Don't even joke about that, Minho."

"I'm not. Why do you think we never run out of jam?"

"Because neither of us eat it?"

"I do," he lies, maintaining eye contact.

He blinks prettily.

He laughs when Felix shoves him.

"Pest," he mumbles, walking back to his gaming chair. "You're back early."

It's just shy of 2pm. When Minho woke up he was alone, sprawled nonsensically in the middle of Han's bed. Cold coffee was waiting for him on the table, along with a cute little note scribbled in the back of a messy-haired boy paper selfie printed in black and white. Minho trapped it in the back of his phone.

"Hannie needed to meet Hyunjin for work and I got bored. Thought I'd come home to my cat."

Felix smiles, offering his head for pats. Minho obliges.

"Hm," Felix hums. "If I point out you're more affectionate these days, will you stop?"

"Are you willing to risk it?"

Felix zips his mouth shut. Minho sighs and drops down on the couch.

He should go change into something that doesn't make him look like a fifteen year old shy f*ck boy who lost his snapback hat, but he smells too good to.

He paddles his feet on the floor.

"So that was weird, yesterday."

"Was it?" Minho blinks.

"I mean, I didn't plan to defend my sexual preference in front of my ex-boyfriend's new boyfriend."

Minho frowns.

"Since when I'm your ex-boyfriend's new boyfriend and not your friend?"

"Since you let him put a collar on you?"

Minho grabs a pillow. He's suddenly acutely aware of the choker sitting against his skin.

"No!" Felix cries out, holding up his legs to defend himself. "You're my friend and that's totally not a freaky sex kink."

"Good," Minho says, ears on fire, putting the pillow on his lap. He can't exactly say it's a freak romance kink.

"I don't think it was bad weird, though," Felix continues. "Did he say anything?"

Minho blinks. Felix rolls his eyes.

"Why do I even ask. Always yapping to say nothing."

"I like that," Minho says, pawing at the pillow.

"Of course you do," Felix reprimands him. "You're just more upfront about the secrecy, but you're the same. Actually," he sighs, "you always reminded me of him a little."

"Oh," Minho says astutely. "Thank you."

"Oh, God." Felix sounds horrified. "You really are smitten. You didn't even ask if that was a compliment or not."

"I assumed." He tugs at his ear. "You always say nice things about him. He's your favorite." It sounds spiteful.

Or maybe it doesn't, because Felix just sighs, brushing his hair away.

"I guess it's true. There's not really much I don't like about him."

"Hm."

Now that sounds spiteful. His jaw is locked.

The silence goes on for a little too long.

"Does it bother you?" Felix asks gently. "That I still feel positively about him?"

Therapist speech. Minho licks the back of his bunny teeth.

"Hm-hm."

"Hm-hm yes, or hm-hm no?"

"Hm-hm whatever."

"Minho."

He looks up at Felix.

"Does it matter? He's my boyfriend now."

Felix makes a spectacle of blinking one time.

"Are you jealous?"

"No."

Felix smiles in a really annoying way, his eyes crinkling up.

"You're jealous. You're so cute."

"No, I'm not jealous," he says, reasonably angry.

"Yes, you are," Felix coos, half climbing in his lap, squeezing him. "Big scary cat doesn't like it when I say nice things about his boyfriend."

Minho just wails in silence, mouth open and eyes shut.

Felix amuses himself for a while, then leans his head on the back of the couch. He hugs Minho's arm.

"I left for a reason, Minho. I miss him because he was my twin, not because I miss the life I could have had with him."

"Stop talking like that. You sound like a doctor flyer."

"A doctor flyer?"

"The ones in the waiting rooms," he explains, gesturing despite his arm being held hostage. "You're there to get your teeth cleaned and suddenly you're reading about the danger of repressing emotions."

"You know you can just not read them."

"No," he says. "The people printed on it always make eye contact, it's a challenge."

Felix laughs, a rumbly waterfall.

"Jisung loves it, doesn't he?" He asks, happily. "That you're weird?"

"I'm not weird."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Felix says gently, brushing his hair. "It's what makes you so endearing."

Minho bares his teeth.

He's not endearing. He's cool. Aloof. Selectively approachable.

When Felix pulls away without permission, Minho drops his head to the side to get another scratch.