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It’s half past two in the morning when Minseok finally enters his bedroom. He expects to be greeted by the dim glow of his aquatic-themed laptop screensaver, or by the familiar form of his giant white teddy strewn carelessly across the twin bed; what he doesn’t expect, however, is to be shoved face-first against the wall, his bedroom door slamming shut with a sharp bang to mask his surprised yelp.
“Hi Minseok.” There’s a warm breath against his ear. Minseok is too tired to struggle. He grumbles something offensive in Korean and debates whether or not he should attempt it in Mandarin. As if reading his thoughts, the arm pinning him painfully against the wall presses into the back of his shoulders with even more force.
“Hi Luhan.” Minseok almost sighs, turning his cheek to the wall so he can breathe properly. “I wish I could say that it’s nice to see you, but it kinda seems like you want to break my face and I’m kinda not okay with that.”
Luhan snorts. “You’re hilarious, chubbycheeks.”
“Okay seriously, what’s your problem?” Minseok hisses, agitation seeping slow poison into his words. “Get off me before I attempt one of Tao’s Wushu moves on you. It won’t be pretty for the either of us, I promise.”
“Oh you’re real scary.” He can practically hear Luhan roll his eyes, but the latter drops his arm anyway. Minseok swiftly turns around to face the perpetrator, an irate expression painted across his features.
“Luhan, what the hell-”
“Why didn’t you come home right after practice?” Luhan abruptly cuts him off, eyes gleaming dangerously in the dark. The attractive youth’s face is a maze of blue hues and sombre shadows, a haphazard mask constructed of paper-thin patience.
“Huh? Oh I went to eat with Jongdae…” Minseok trails off; the unnerving way in which Luhan peers at him from underneath long lashes sends shivers down his spine. “Why…?”
“Seems like you’ve been spending a lot of time with Jongdae.” Luhan places a hand on the wall right above Minseok’s dark ashy-haired head. “A lot of time.” He emphasizes, leaning forward until there are only centimeters between their noses.
The Korean male frowns, annoyed at the interrogative turn of the conversation. “Well dongsaeng,” He stresses, reminding Luhan of his place, “Jongdae and I are friends.”
"So what do you guys do when you hangout?" Luhan drawls, faking curiosity. He traces the soft curve of Minseok’s rosy lip with a gentle finger. "Does he stare at your mouth when you lick sauce off your lips?"
"Luhan, stop-"
"Or," the Chinese male’s hands drop to the small of Minseok’s back, his fingers delicate in its motion but possessive in its intent. "Does he try to hold you like this when you guys are walking back to the dorms?" He whispers into the crook of Minseok’s neck.
"This is ridic-"
"Does he?" Luhan demands, his facade of nonchalance slipping when his tone accidentally comes out a notch higher than intended. His dark eyes are almost pleading when he meets Minseok’s exasperated gaze.
"No, Luhan." Minseok responds after a moment of strained silence. He brushes a stray curl out of the younger singer’s eyes before tenderly cupping Luhan’s small face between his warm hands. "You’re so silly."
Luhan leans into the affectionate touch, relief briefly soothing the tension that was occupying his rigid body. But images of Jongdae pinching Minseok’s cheeks and slinging his arm casually over the shorter Korean’s shoulders soon flood his brain and anger blossoms again in his chest like a parasitic weed.
"Sometimes I just want to hide you in my room so only I will ever be able to see your face." Luhan says, enveloping the stunned male in an unforgiving embrace.
Minseok wants to laugh. Or maybe cry. “You’re messed up, Luhan.”
"I don’t care. You’re mine. I’ll do anything to keep you."
Minseok pauses, before slowly encircling his arms around Luhan’s waist. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, half-hidden by the collar of Luhan’s leather jacket.
Checkmate.
Luhan never even had a chance. Minseok had him wrapped completely around his finger. Jongdae was a close second.
And underneath the moonlight filtered through jaded window slats, Minseok’s smile appeared almost sinister.
2 down. 9 to go.