Archive of Our Own ^beta

Minno Le  , his name tag said. The second e and a part of the h were worn off, leaving only a few specks of black against the white plastic. Minho was still a bit pissed that he had to replace Lee Minho with Minho Lee , though it definitely made an improvement when it came to the amount of people that called him Lee. With a sigh, he clipped it to his uniform, right onto the pocket placed on his left pec. It contrasted nicely with the navy of his shirt. Hopefully it wouldn’t fall this time, after the fiasco a few minutes ago where he’d just barely saved it from falling into the toilet.

“Minho?” Three knocks against the door. “You done in there? I’m leaving for today, so you’re alone, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m done. All good, you can go home.” He wiped his hands on the towel one last time to get the last remaining soap suds between his fingers. With the toilet door, he had to push first before turning the lock; something he’d learned after panicking one time when he thought he’d gotten stuck. He made his way through the kitchen and through the door that led to the bar. 

Scanning the seating area, he came to the conclusion that it’d be a pretty okay night. It was never too busy in the diner, and tonight there was only one couple that had long gotten their food. That meant that the only people that would be coming in tonight still, were a few players of a nearby university’s baseball team. A modest group of five that always showed up after trainings and matches. They always ordered the same thing too, so Minho had a fairly easy time serving them. 

One problem: team captain Kim Seungmin was always there. 

Now, Minho didn’t necessarily hate Seungmin, but it was just so awkward. After all, what do you do when your childhood friend shows up at your diner every few days pretending that he’s never known you? It was frustrating, to say the least. Today seemed to be no different, because at exactly nine o’clock, the door swung open and Seungmin walked in, the rest of his friends in tow. They were talking to each other animatedly, though from the counter, Minho couldn’t understand a word.

“Good evening!” one of the baseball players said. Minho returned the greeting with a curt raise of his hand. They looked the same as ever, foreheads coated in a thin layer of sweat and bare arms out even in the chill of the winter evening. Seungmin in question hadn’t greeted Minho, and was leaning against the window with one shoulder as the others slid into the booth.

“Same as usual?” Minho called from behind the counter, not even bothering to go up to them anymore. 

A few of the guys gave several versions of ‘yes please’, and Minho took it as a sign to just start making their dishes. It wasn’t anything special really, just a few of their simpler meals to reenergize the players after training. Stuff like pancakes, soups, and a fucking salad. The salad was always Seungmin’s, of course.

“Actually,” Seungmin said, loud enough to be heard over the others, “Can I have your number tonight?”

Minho blinked. What? The other guys were laughing as Seungmin groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. Minho’s own face flushed, cheeks heating up the longer he stood there. “I’ll… I’ll just make your salad.”

He nearly cut his own finger off as he was crushing ingredients with a knife. Seungmin never talked to him. They hadn’t seen each other in years , and the first thing Seungmin did was ask for his fucking number? Minho dropped the walnuts in the salad and drizzled some honey over the top. Seungmin seemed to be the same enigma he’d always been. He put a straw in a large milkshake and started filling a good three trays with plates and glasses. 

It was honestly a surprise that he didn’t trip and drop the first tray on his way out from the kitchen, because Seungmin was standing by the counter, apparently waiting for him. Minho shot him a glance and hastily continued on towards the table to set down the first part of their order.

“What do you want?” he asked when he returned to the counter.

“I just want to talk to you for a second,” Seungmin said, scratching the back of his neck. “I… yeah, I wanna talk to you?”

“Sounds like a question,” Minho said, tapping a few buttons on the cash register so that it counted up the total of the order. He knew he sounded a bit rude, but honestly? He was a little angry. “Fine. Just let me get them their orders first.”

It was nerve-wracking, and Minho didn’t quite know which feeling it was that bubbled in the pit of his stomach as he felt Seungmin’s eyes burn into his back. He had definitely missed Seungmin in the weird period of time where they never saw each other, but yet it wasn’t quite happiness. Annoyance, maybe, that it’d taken Seungmin so long to finally approach him, even if it was with a shitty pickup line and an ‘I want to talk’.

Minho planted his hands on the counter. “Make it quick. Your salad and your teammates are waiting for you.”

“Okay,” Seungmin said, “Well… how do I say this? I made a mistake, I guess? Uhm… I kinda… may have told my teammates that I like you because I panicked. I mean, I don’t like you… obviously. Not in that way, but I just… my brain…”

“What the fuck?” Minho asked. 

“ Look --”

“We haven’t talked in years , and now you’re telling your friends that you like me? Why, Seungmin?”

“No, I don’t-- It was an accident!” Seungmin grimaced when a few laughs erupted from the baseball team behind him. “Look, we can pretend this never happened and I’ll tell them you rejected me, or you can hear me out.”

“I’m listening,” Minho said. A bad idea, maybe, but Seungmin’s voice was a nice familiarity. “If you don’t want them to eavesdrop, by the way, you do realize you can just… speak Korean to me, right?”

“You’re a fucking genius,” Seungmin said, in Korean this time. The switch was smooth, smoother than Minho expected. After all, they’d both been living in the US for a while now. “Okay, so you know how Valentine’s day is coming up, right?”

“It’s the first of February.” 

“That’s only two weeks!”

“So what does Valentine’s day have to do with you needing to talk to me?”

One of Seungmin’s teammates stood up, nearly planting his hand in his stack of pancakes. Minho remembered his name as Jamal. “Seungmin! You shooting your shot yet?” he asked loudly. “Your salad is getting cold!”

Seungmin waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be right over!”

“Shooting your shot…” Minho mused.

“Look, I’m so sorry that this is how we… how we had to get back in touch, but I promise I’ll explain over text okay?” Seungmin snatched a pen from the counter and one of the papers that Minho used to jot down orders, and began scribbling numbers on it. Familiar. God, the phone number looked so familiar. How had he ever forgotten it?

“Sure…” Minho muttered, but Seungmin was already gone.

Minho had just finished dancing and was taking a break with the dance crew when his phone rang. Loudly. It echoed through the practice room, and it took him a few moments to realize it was actually his phone, because he never got calls. One of his mates had to nudge him before it dawned on him that it was in fact, his old and laggy iPhone with a battery of five hours or something. 

“Hello?”

“ Hi .” It was Seungmin, voice slightly distorted and crackling through the phone. “ Can we… I mean, do you want me to explain still, or have you made up your mind? ”

“Still on the fence,” Minho said, signalling to the others and exiting the studio. “Just make it quick, I’m just taking a break from dance practice right now.”

“ You still dance? ”

“Duh. I moved here to be with this dance crew, I’m not stopping until I have to. Now explain.” He leaned back against the cold wall of the hallway, painted a light gray like every other wall in the building.

“ Okay, so it started when our college’s sports department decided to do this Valentine’s day event, right ?” There’s a bit of shuffling around from Seungmin’s side of the line. “ Basically, if we--the players--show up with a romantic partner on Valentine’s day practice, we get a slice of cake, fifty percent on a hoodie, and we get to skip field cleanup for a month . They say it promotes socializing and bonds us as a community or something. I think they just want to distract us from uni with fun events. ”

“I don’t see what this has to do with me.” 

“ My teammates kept teasing me about not having a boyfriend, so we made a bet, and now I need to show up with one on Valentine’s day .”

“I don’t like where this is going, at all,” Minho said. He picked at his nails with one hand. 

“ So then when they asked me who I had my eyes on, I accidentally told them I liked you, and now they expect me to bring you .”

“Your teammates are crazy,” he said, “and so are you. Do you want us to fake date now or something?”

“ Well …”

“I cannot believe you. This isn’t really how childhood friends are meant to reunite, don’t you think?”

“ I’m really sorry ,” Seungmin said. God, he sounded like he was begging on his knees. “ I didn’t want this to happen either, but it did. I’d much rather we reunite in like… my mum’s front garden when we both happen to be there on holiday or something, but that’s not gonna work. You can still say no, like I said, I’ll just tell them you rejected me, and we’ll do this whole reuniting thing over again differently .”

Minho sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “You already ruined the ruiniting thing, Seungie.”

“ I’m sorry .”

“What do I get out of it?” The door to the dance studio opened, and one of Minho’s friends stuck his face out. Minho held up a few fingers. I’ll be there in a bit .

“ What ?”

“If I agree. What do I get out of it?”

“ Well… cake, a college hoodie of a college you don’t go to… and a rekindled friendship ?” Seungmin sounded hesitant about the last part, as if Minho would hang up on him at the sheer implication of being friends again.

“I’ll think it over. Tell your friends we’re texting, and that you plan on asking me out tomorrow. You’ll be at the diner, right?”

“ Of course .” There was hope in his voice.

“Then I’ll put up a show for you tomorrow night.”

“ You’re gonna make them watch how you reject me, or what ?”

“Maybe. Depends on how I feel about this tomorrow afternoon.”

“ Okay …” Seungmin said. It sounded like he was about to hang up, but then there was a rather quiet addition. “ Thanks for not… getting too mad at me .”

“Oh Seungie, I could never,” Minho teased. “You’ll always be my little brother.”

“ As long as you don’t call me that while we fake date, sure .”

“If.”

“ If we fake date, my bad. See you tomorrow ?”

“Yeah. See ya!” Minho said, and hung up. The screen went black, and he just stared at it for a while before finally going back into the dance practice room. The music had already started up again, booming through the space and drowning out all his other thoughts for the rest of the session. He could no longer focus on anything else than the power it took to tense his muscles just right to the beat of the music, and later the ache in those muscles.

That night, after work, Minho pondered on the entire fake-dating-his-childhood-friend matter. He brushed his teeth as he looked back on their youth. Sometimes, he would shower and brush teeth together with Seungmin--their parents’ idea--to save time. Other times, they would simply chase each other around the house and garden, sweaty from playing around but still laughing. Then there were the times when Minho used to watch Seungmin play baseball.

Who knew that a kid from the Korean countryside would end up getting a sports scholarship at an American university? Minho surely hadn’t expected it when he’d seen him show up to the diner for the first time, and finding out about the scholarship after asking around within his friend group. Apparently, his friend Hyunjin from the dance crew was at the same uni.

Minho spat out the foamy toothpaste remains, and washed them down the drain before washing his face with cold tap water. 

It was a complicated question, really. One the one hand, he found it quite stupid of Seungmin to ignore him for so long, and then suddenly bust in with the ‘can we pretend to date’ shenanigans. 

On the other hand, he knew for a fact that they would’ve had a blast doing it back in the day.

The next day, Seungmin showed up to the diner with his teammates like he’d said. They all seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood, though Minho really wasn’t. He worked long shifts on Wednesdays, and today had been especially busy. Luckily, the diner had emptied ever so slightly since what the employees called ‘rush hour’ around six, seven o’clock.

He pretended not to care about the baseball players.

“I’ll order at the counter today,” Seungmin said, clearly louder than necessary, since Minho could hear it perfectly fine. A few encouraging calls and even whistles erupted from the other four.

“Hi,” Minho said when Seungmin arrived at the bar. “What can I get you tonight?”

Seungmin blinked. “The usual… Though I’d like the salad with less dressing this time. Burned my tongue so the acidity doesn’t really--”

“Mhm,” Minho interrupted him, as he wrote down some things on his notepad. “Tomorrow, four o’clock at the Starbucks down by the campus. Our first date. Take it or leave it.”

Seungmin’s jaw dropped open, and it was frankly quite an amusing sight to see. Minho smiled to himself. “What are you so surprised for?”

“Just… I didn’t think you’d do it,” he stammered, “What do I tell the guys?”

“That it’s our first date. Do you want to pay by card or cash?”

“Card,” Seungmin said, eyes still slightly wider than usual. He patted down his pants. “Thank you so much for doing this, seriously… Wait, I don’t keep my card in here. Give me a second, I’ll go get it.”

“Who keeps money in their sports clothes anyways?” Minho asked. The register pinged as the total amount was added up. The same number as literally every other time.

“Sorry,” he whined, and then turned around to dart over to their table. 

Minho watched as he was received with back pats and brotherly congratulations. Seeing Seungmin act so… jock-esque would probably always be a foreign feeling to him, but the longer he thought about it, the better it suited him. After all, he did have the build and skill of a good pitcher and that strange gentle and kind but physically strong image of a typical nice jock. (Or a himbo. Hyunjin from his dance team would probably describe Seungmin as a himbo but smarter.)

Seungmin returned, and swiped his card.

This was going to be fun.

“You made a list,” Minho deadpanned. Seungmin was sitting across from him with a ridiculously large, strong coffee and for some reason, a notebook with a bunch of points lined up under each other in meticulously neat handwriting. “A fucking list .”

“Look,” Seungmin said, tapping his finger against the paper. “There’s certain things I wanted to discuss before we actually commit to this, and I knew I was going to forget them if I didn’t write them down because I was also taking notes for my course.”

“I’m not judging you, I’m just… surprised by your strategic approach to this.”

“You know how I am,” he simply responded, and he was right. Seungmin had always been very organized, whether it meant always having a spare tube of toothpaste just in case, or color coding all his files even in elementary school.

“So, what’s on your list?” Minho asked, and raised his cup of hot chocolate to his lips, recoiling upon finding out that it was certainly still hot hot chocolate.

“Well, we need boundaries, for one. Also, a plan. Maybe a backstory? And lastly, where we go after Valentine’s Day.”

“Start with boundaries, then?” Minho’s tongue was burnt. He sucked some cold air in through pursed lips. It didn’t really help. “What’s like… off limits for you?”

“No nicknames,” Seungmin said firmly. “No unnecessary PDA, and definitely no cheesy shit.”

Minho huffed and stirred around in his cup. “Where’s the fun if I can’t annoy you in front of your friends with cheesy lines? I could do pickup lines. I have a lot of those.”

“You’re horrible. List your boundaries.”

“None,” he said. “Okay… maybe like, no using things from our past against me.”

“Like?”

Minho blinked at Seungmin, searching for any kind of implication that he was joking, though he didn’t find any. He was seriously expecting Minho to list off embarrassing moments from their childhood. 

“Like--”

“Just kidding.” Seungmin grinned. “I know very well what you’re talking about. No mentions of the weird-twelve-year-old phase. Goes both ways, yeah?”

“Idiot.”

He took a large sip of coffee and turned back to his list. “So. The plan.”

“The plan.”

“We need to have some kind of schedule-ish thing to stick to. Like, we’ll say this is our first date, and then we’ll pretend to still be dating by Valentine’s day. Honeymoon phase and everything, we’re head over heels, all that stuff.” Seungmin wrote something down that Minho couldn’t read, as it was upside down. 

“It’s like an action movie,” he said. “We go in there, get the hoodie and the cake, and then we bail.”

“Sure. I already told the guys that we used to be friends, just so you know. None of the embarrassing stuff, just that we knew each other all the way back then. So the backstory is covered, I guess.”

Minho hummed. “But like, do we have to go on more dates before Valentine’s? Because I have shit to do and I’m not going to sit in a restaurant with you and waste my time if it doesn’t serve a purpose.”

“I’ll tell them that we go on dates, but we could also just hang out… as friends, you know.”

“Sure.” He speared a piece of apple pie onto his fork. “Just text me your address or whatever.”

“I basically live with them, we can’t hang out at my place,” Seungmin said, tugging at the collar of his green sweater. It looked much too soft for a jock. 

“I’ll text you mine then. No big deal.” Minho’s fork with apple pie completely missed his mouth, smearing a stripe of sugary substance on his cheek. Not because he suddenly noticed how much Seungmin had grown, especially in the shoulder area. Absolutely not. He just had horrible hand-eye coordination. (That was it.)

“Sounds good. So after Valentine’s day, what do we do then? Fake a breakup or keep the act for a while so they don’t notice it was fake?”

“Pfffffff,” Minho exhaled as he wiped at his cheek with a paper towel. “Just… I guess that’s a problem for future us?”

Seungmin blinked. “You know how I am.”

“Better than anyone, baby. I just think it’s not something we need to worry about already. That way, it also won’t seem too scripted.” Minho didn’t miss the way that Seungmin rolled his eyes as soon as he uttered the word ‘baby’. 

“I guess…”

“Improvisation has always been my forte,” Minho said proudly, swinging his fork slightly. “That’s why I’m the best freestyler of the crew!”

“You need to come to our game on Saturday,” Seungmin said suddenly. “We’ll say I invited you, and you came.”

“I… yeah, why not? I don’t know shit about baseball though. Just watched you play all the time back home without understanding a single thing the referee did.”

“I don’t understand dance either, so we’re on par.”

“Perfectly on par. Should we like… seal the deal with a handshake?” 

“Deal.” Seungmin smiled and held out a hand. Minho took it, feeling the callouses against his own skin. Even his hands had gotten large. After a firm shake, they parted again, and Minho finally took the first sip of his hot chocolate that didn’t burn his tongue.

He went to the game on Saturday. It was a gloomy day, with gray clouds hanging over the field threatening to spill down rain. Minho had taken a raincoat just in case, standing there, leaning against the fence around the baseball field. The players warmed up, running back and forth a few times and doing stretches. Every now and then, Seungmin would catch his eyes and smile slightly. Minho smiled back every single time, though he was pretty sure it was more of a grimace, because of the cold.

He didn’t understand a lot of the game itself, apart from a few basics. The pitcher (Seungmin) would throw the ball, the guy with the bat hit it, and then there was a lot of running and trying to get the ball back to a base or something. He found it a peculiar sport. Still, there was a warm familiarity in watching Seungmin play, something that reminded him of home. Perhaps he’d missed it, but that was a feeling to unpack some other time when his teeth weren’t chattering and Seungmin’s teammates weren’t yelling in something that seemed to be joy.

When the game ended, it started raining. Thick drops that broke apart on the tiles and on Minho’s jacket, spattering water everywhere. It was light at first, and the baseball players looked up at the sky for a bit, holding out their hands to confirm that it was actually raining. Someone laughed. They ran to the side of the field where their jackets and bags were deposited, and made haste to get into the clubhouse. 

By the entrance of the field, Minho was met with Seungmin, who basically ran into him. He smelled of rain and sweat, and he radiated warmth. 

“Hey,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi,” Minho returned, significantly less happy. “Weather’s shit today.”

“It’s not that bad,” Seungmin mused. “You wanna join us for a drink? They have hot chocolate. Tea. Lemonade. Coffee.”

Even though there were not many things that Minho wanted more than to go home at that moment, a hot chocolate sounded awfully good. Plus, a ‘boyfriend’ would never leave his partner like that, right? “Sure,” he said, “if you pay.”

“Drinks are free for players!” he exclaimed as he skipped forward already, leaving Minho to trail behind him with freezing toes and fingertips.

It was warm in the clubhouse, yellow lamps hanging overhead and drenching the entire room in a pleasant glow. The bar was occupied by an old lady that was already carrying out drinks for some of the players, who were sitting on couches around a burning hearth. It was a nice atmosphere, really. Minho could get used to this. He took off his drenched raincoat and sat down next to Seungmin, on the edge of one of the couches. 

Seungmin was busy talking animatedly to his teammates, which was either a part of his extroverted nature or one of his team captain duties. Either way, it didn’t hinder him from wrapping an arm around Minho and pulling him into his side. Minho squeaked softly, but still allowed himself to relax into Seungmin and rest his head on the younger’s shoulder.

It was maybe slightly against the ‘no unnecessary PDA’ rule Seungmin himself had set up, but hey. He’d let it slide.

“--and then he ran a homerun!” Seungmin finished his story, leaving the other guys to continue talking about baseball stuff. He turned to Minho, dragging his fingers through the wet strands of hair that framed his face. “Weather really did you dirty, huh? How’ve you been?”

Minho hummed. “I’m fine.” Regardless of Seungmin being sweaty and still hot from just sporting, his shoulder was very comfortable, and Minho was certainly not complaining about the makeshift pillow.

“Has anything interesting happened?”

“I… the crew got another gig, I suppose. We’re performing at an event in May.”

“Really? That’s amazing.”

“Hmm…” Minho took his hot chocolate from the old lady when she came to bring it to him, politely thanking her with a nod of his head. It was served in a paper cup that was definitely not heat proof, but he supposed that was a part of the experience.

One of Seungmin’s teammates with a cap and a blue bomber jacket whistled. “You two are cute together!”

Minho could feel Seungmin’s chest move when he scoffed. Slowly but surely, he escaped from his grip, sitting upright and taking a sip of his hot chocolate. 

“You’re just jealous,” Seungmin said jokingly.

“I have a girlfriend!” Blue bomber jacket yelled. “We’ve been together for over a year!”

“She doesn’t come to your games though,” another player said. He tipped a bottle of beer back against his lips. “If someone comes to your games, you know they’re a keeper. Seungmin, you hold on to that fella.”

Seungmin laughed, a clear and cleansing sound to Minho’s ears. “Oh I will! We’ve only been dating since this week though.”

“Seriously?” he raised his bottle at Minho. “How’s our captain treated you so far?”

“He’s… he’s amazing,” Minho stammered, caught off-guard by the question. “I mean, we already knew each other but I never knew he could be… such a romancer , you know?”

The guy nodded with a smirk. “A romancer, huh? Haven’t heard that one before.”

“It’s really not that--” Seungmin tried to butt in, but Minho was one step ahead. “He paid for my drinks when we went out. Not to mention the flowers he bought me afterwards. They’re perched beautifully on top of my nightstand.”

Seungmin glared at Minho for a second, and he just smiled back as if he hadn’t just pulled all of that out of his ass. 

“Seungmin is a changed man, then!” Blue bomber jacket said. “I’ve never seen him show emotions, for one! And you work in a diner? Or what’s the whole story?”

“Yeah, I take evening shifts generally, but outside of that I’m in a dance crew, which is why I came to the US in the first place,” Minho explained. “Seungmin and I actually grew up together, back in Korea.”

“So I’ve heard,” the guy with the beer said. “If you have any compromising stories or fun facts about Seungmin, we’re all ears.”

“Please don’t,” Seungmin groaned. “Just cut it out guys. I don’t interrogate your girlfriends and stuff either.”

“I like your teammates actually.” Minho slung an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders, ignoring the way he could only barely reach around, and shook him lightly. “They’re nice.”

“That’s what they make you believe. Can we head out? I want to go shower.”

There were a few protests from the other guys, but in the end, Seungmin and Minho managed to pack up their respective stuff and get out of the couch area of the clubhouse. Minho even offered to carry Seungmin’s bag, but he refused. What he did do however, was take a firm hold on Minho’s hand, slotting their fingers together and raising them to hover in front of his face for a second. To the others behind them, it must’ve looked like Seungmin kissed his hand.

Smart.

They walked out into the rain and Minho reluctantly lifted his coat’s hood over his head. All of his clothes were still moist on the inside, and he felt sticky with it. As soon as they left the clubhouse, Seungmin dropped the act and let go of Minho’s hand, even going as far as to take a few steps to the right so they weren’t walking too close together. It made the air a lot colder suddenly.

“No unnecessary PDA, huh?” Minho asked as he retracted his hands into his sleeves while they walked across the parking lot.

“I had to convince them in some way.” Seungmin refused to meet his eye, simply walking a few steps in front of him towards the dark green Honda that Minho had bought second-hand as soon as he’d gotten his American license. He stood by the passenger side door until Minho had fumbled with the keys between his cold fingers and the car unlocked. 

“Thank you for taking me back to my place,” Seungmin said once Minho had started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. “I don’t think I could stand being in a car with the guys and them just asking questions about you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Minho deadpanned. “I didn’t overstep anything back there, right?”

“No, no, you did great!”

He scoffed. “Strange compliment, but I’ll take it. You’re very good at fake dating yourself.”

“I should make it my job,” Seungmin said, “Would probably pay better than whatever my future job will be as well. I could like… accompany rich people to their parties and everything, and then they pay me for it.”

“Like a sugar baby.”

“Like a sugar baby, but just a one-time thing. Seungmin’s fake dating agency.”

“That’s a shit name. You should call it something like… I don’t know, Seungmin’s sugar services.” 

“And you have the audacity to call my idea shit. That’s at least equally trash!” Seungmin leaned his head against the window. Minho glanced at him, entranced by the way a single strand of his hair stood straight up against the glass. 

Focus on the road, Minho. he reprimanded himself, when he pressed down the brake in front of a red light. It turned green, and he took a sharp left. 

“Where are you going?” Seungmin asked. “My place is the other way.”

“Hm? Oh, fuck, sorry.” Minho had already started to do the mental calculations of when the next possibility to turn around was. “Muscle memory makes me go to my own apartment.”

“If you want to spend more time with me, you can just say so,” Seungmin teased between a few low chuckles.

“I hate you,” Minho said. “If you keep saying stuff like that, I’m never gonna let you hang out at mine.”

“A bit too late for that, I spent about half of my childhood in your bedroom.” 

“Those were times,” he confirmed, “but times change and so do my standards.”

“Oh no,” Seungmin said. His voice was perfectly monotonous. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Stop annoying me, and start giving me directions on how to get back to your place.”

“Well, for one, you should’ve taken that opportunity a few seconds ago to turn and go back,” Seungmin said. Minho’s head snapped around, and indeed, he’d missed the one spot along the street where he could actually change lanes. Now, the best shot he had was to turn around at the flat where Minho lived and then drive all the way down to Seungmin’s and then all the way back. He groaned.

“What?”

“That was the last place where I could turn,” he said, “next one is my flat’s parking lot.”

“How did you even get your fucking license? Sheer luck or something?”

“You were distracting me!” 

“That’s what boyfriends are for,” Seungmin mused.

“You’re not my boyfriend.” Minho bent over the gear box and poked Seungmin in the side, making him recoil and laugh to himself.

“That’s not what you said earlier!” 

Minho huffed, and the car went silent. He mentally cursed himself for never getting a proper radio installed, as he’d bought it with one that was somehow stuck on a southern country music station that somehow sounded like the shape of Texas. They just sat in silence, with the sound of the windshield wipers going back and forth as their background music.

Eventually, it was Seungmin who broke the silence. “I can just call one of the guys and ask them to pick me up later. They won’t have a problem with it, but you’re all wet and probably tired, so you should just go home.”

The offer was hard to refuse, honestly, but Minho also didn’t really want to accept it. After all, it had been his own fault that he missed the turn. What he settled on, though, was, “What kind of shit boyfriend leaves his partner standing in the rain to get picked up by a friend?”

Seungmin slid down a bit in his seat, the sound of fabric against fabric cutting through the air. “True, but I really don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re not a bother!” Minho said, possibly louder than intended. “For all I care, you take a shower at my place and just stay the night. Not like I give a fuck. We’ve done that so many times before.”

“A sleepover,” Seungmin laughed. “ That’s your best proposition.”

“Don’t like it?”

“No, I do. But it’s not exactly planned, is it? I’m not going to sleep in my sweaty jersey, let alone wear it on the way back tomorrow like some baseball walk of shame.”

“You say that as if we never had unplanned sleepovers as kids. If we could pull it off then, we can pull it off now.” Minho turned onto the bumpy parking lot in front of the flat where he lived. 

“Will your clothes fit me?”

“Sure. I have plenty of oversized stuff.”

“And you’re absolutely positive that I’m not intruding or being a bother?”

“One hundred percent. I wouldn’t’ve offered if you were.”

“Alright then. For old times’ sake.”

Minho’s car came to a shaky halt, and he turned the key. “For old times’ sake.”

They didn’t shower together like they used to do (for convenience), but instead Minho gave Seungmin a set of his loungewear and waited in the kitchen for him to come back. Actually, he didn’t stand in the kitchen for the entire time that the shower was on, but he also spent some time organizing his living room. It had been a while since he’d had guests over, so it was quite the mess. He took some plates and cups away from where they were strewn around his apartment and cleaned up some scattered books and other things. 

Seungmin was quite a fast showerer, as it turned out, because the shower turned off only about seven minutes after it had been turned on. A little while later, he emerged from the bathroom barefoot in Minho’s loungewear, baseball jersey hung over his arm and hair fluffy from toweling the water out. 

“Bathroom is all yours.”

“Thanks, make yourself at home,” Minho replied as he picked his own pajamas up from where he’d placed them on the end of his bed. “I’ll make us some dinner when I get out.”

Seungmin smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t break anything.”

“You better not,” he said, and with that closed and locked the door. It was warm and moist in the bathroom, floor mat still wet and the mirror covered by condensation. Minho was glad to get out of his cold attire and into the shower, which didn’t have to warm up anymore since Seungmin had only just come out. 

Where he would usually go all out on a saturday to wash and deep-condition his hair and maybe scrub his body, Minho decided it would probably be better to just go for a simple rinse with shampoo, as he had a guest waiting. He shuddered at the thought of not getting to sit in a warm towel for at least fifteen minutes, but restrained himself nonetheless.

Eventually he managed to fight himself out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, feet dragging across the floor smoothly because of his fluffy socks. 

“Nice socks,” Seungmin said as Minho opened a few cabinets and the fridge to gather ingredients for a meal.

“Thanks.” He turned on the stove, and the pan made a clattering sound as he put it down. It didn’t take long for the bottom of the pan to warm up, and soon he could add in some chopped garlic and oil. Cooking was almost like muscle memory to him at this point, something he’d done over and over again ever since he moved out to the USA to live on his own. 

“What are you making?” 

“Just pasta,” he answered. “Don't feel like making anything fancy tonight.”

Seungmin hummed. “That’s fine. Should I set the table already?”

It was undoubtedly too early to set the table already, given the fact that the pasta water in the second pan wasn’t even cooking yet, but Minho agreed nonetheless, pointing towards a cabinet behind him where he kept his plates stacked in neat little towers. Seungmin slipped past him, and they nearly touched each other because of how cramped the space was (it was a one-person apartment after all), but he managed to get through. When he passed by again, Minho made sure to step closer to the furnace so they wouldn’t accidentally bump together or something. 

They had their pasta not even half an hour later, when Minho had put generous amounts of spaghetti on both of their deep plates and topped it off with parmesan. Not his best meal ever, but he was tired and had just gotten out of a shower, so it was reasonable. Seungmin also seemed to like it, though Minho also knew that hungry sports kids weren’t all that picky after a match.

“I’ll put down some blankets and pillows on the couch later so you can sleep in a bed,” Minho declared a few spoonfuls into dinner.

“Oh, I’ll sleep on the couch, it’s alright.” Seungmin reached forward for his glass of water, sleeve riding up his arm and revealing his slim wrist. Even if it was oversized on Minho, the loungewear was still a tad small on Seungmin, unsurprisingly. 

“No, no. You’re going to be sore already tomorrow and sleeping on the couch will probably make it even worse,” he insisted. “You take the bed, I take the couch.”

“I can still call one of the guys to come pick me up,” Seungmin said. 

Minho poked at his food with his spoon. “You sound like you don’t even want to stay here. One boyfriend you are, huh.”

“I just don’t want you to sleep on an uncomfortable couch! That would be good boyfriend behavior, don’t you think?”

“I’ve slept there before, when I hadn’t gotten my bed yet.”

“And you’re willing to do that again ?” Seungmin asked incredulously. “Especially when I just kindly offered to let you sleep in the bed?”

“Yeth,” Minho said with a mouth full of pasta. “I’d do a lot of things for you that you don’t realize, Kim Seungmin.”

“Like fake date me for a Valentine’s day event.”

“Exhibit A,” he mused. “Seriously though, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch for a night. It’s really not that big of a deal, and you should get some proper rest soon. If you let someone pick you up, it’ll be at least an hour before you’re home, half an hour for them to get here and half an hour for them to drive you back. Just accept the offer.”

“Fine,” Seungmin mumbled, “but if you wake up halfway into the night don’t get mad at me.” 

“If I wake up halfway into the night I’m joining you in the bed.”

“If you do that I’m walking home.”

“As if. You love me.”

Seungmin made a fake gagging sound, hovering his finger between his lips. “Don’t talk like that when we’re alone. I get that you’d fall for me, but please do not express it like that.”

“Why not?” Minho leaned across the table. “Scared to get flustered, baseball boy?”

“Scared to throw up because of your disgusting sappy antics, more like. Finish your spaghetti so we can go to bed.” Seungmin slid his spoon around to rest neatly at four o’clock on his plate. Of course he followed etiquette even at his friend’s place. 

About halfway through the night, Minho woke up. Okay, not exactly halfway, but at around five am. The moonlight was falling in through the curtains, bathing the living room in a soft blue glow. Minho shivered, as it was quite cold. The thin woolen blanket he’d spread out over the couch was by far not enough to keep him warm in early February, and his spine ached from lying in a weird position. He stared at the ceiling for a bit, not sure what to do next. 

Ergo, he just sat on the couch for an uncertain amount of time that could’ve been anywhere between five minutes and an hour. Granted, he was tired, very much so, but he also couldn’t bring himself to disturb the peacefully snoring Seungmin in the other room to seize the bed, regardless of how attractive the idea was. 

It was still before sunrise when a figure wrapped in blankets appeared in the doorway to Minho’s bedroom. “Good morning,” Seungmin croaked. “Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” Minho retorted. 

“I always wake up early. Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged. 

“Idiot,” Seungmin said, and shuffled over to him to grab him by the arm. Before Minho could register it, he was being dragged to his feet and into the bedroom. “Go sleep.”

He was pushed onto the bed, knees buckling and face-first into the mattress. Seungmin dropped the blankets and somehow managed to readjust Minho’s position so that he was lying with his head on the pillow. (Minho didn’t let himself dwell on how easily Seungmin had basically picked him up.) With a gust of cold air, the blanket settled over him. 

“Sleep,” Seungmin commanded. Minho looked up at him from where he lay beneath the haphazardly thrown blanket. Regardless of how insistent Seungmin was that he went to sleep, he still seemed tired himself, with slumping shoulders and ruffled hair. 

“You look tired,” Minho said. 

“I am, but I already hogged your bed for the entire night so far. It’s your turn.”

Minho pushed himself up into a sitting position, already preparing to argue with Seungmin and go back to the couch, but two firm hands on his shoulders stopped him from getting any further out of bed. 

“Go to sleep, Minho.”

He opened his mouth, but eventually decided against saying anything. After all, Seungmin was as stubborn as a rock, and to be quite honest, the bed was making him awfully sleepy again. “Good,” Seungmin said, pushing him back into a lying position with surprising gentleness. 

“Don’t want you to sleep on the couch though,” he mumbled. “‘s uncomfortable.”

“I know. You look like shit. I never said I was going back to sleep either.”

“But you have to sleep too.”

“I’ll catch up tonight.” 

Minho frowned, but then Seungmin was already gone, and he was left alone in a bed that was oddly warm and smelled of something decidedly Not Minho. The next two hours of sleep he got were probably a contender for best sleep he’d ever had, right behind his first night in a proper bed after having had to sleep on a couch after moving in. 

He woke up again when the sun was already up, shining in through his bedroom window, which was unusual given the fact that he never left the curtains open when sleeping. Seungmin must’ve done so. 

One thing that Minho also noticed as soon as he came to his senses, was that there was the distinct smell of eggs and bacon wafting through the apartment. He sat up groggily, rubbing at his eyes and shivering when the blanket fell off his shoulders. There was a bit of clanking from the kitchen, and then the sound of footsteps. The bedroom door opened and Seungmin came pushing through. 

“What the fuck?” Minho mumbled. 

“I made us breakfast!” Seungmin said. “Do you want to eat it here or in the kitchen?”

“In the kitchen,” he answered, “but why?”

“Because I felt like it. Also, it only seems appropriate to pay you back in some way after you let me sleep in your bed.”

“Oh,” Minho uttered, rolling out of bed slowly so he could trail after Seungmin, stumbling a few times as they made their way into the kitchen. The smell of eggs and bacon got stronger, and Minho could finally see the breakfast feast prepared on the table. 

“I hope this is… like… good. I’m not the best cook, but--”

“It looks amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

When Minho dropped Seungmin off at his place the same morning, still dressed in Minho’s clothes and all, he got some interesting looks and comments from Seungmin’s friends. It was funny, really, to see them so convinced by their little boyfriend act. Seungmin’s friends had insisted he ‘give his boyfriend a sweet goodbye kiss’, but that was quickly avoided by Seungmin saying, “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, it wouldn’t be fun for anyone.”

Minho had joked that it really didn’t matter if Seungmin had brushed his teeth or not, which earned him a warning glance from the younger, as if to just remind him: No unnecessary PDA.

So they didn’t kiss.

Over the course of the next week, they hung out several times more. On monday night, when Seungmin and his teammates came into the diner, Minho pulled him aside for a casual conversation outside, while the others conversed over emptied plates and dirty napkins.

On Tuesday, Minho took Seungmin to dance rehearsal, just letting him watch and try out a few simple moves in front of the wall-length mirror. As it turned out, Seungmin wasn’t all that bad of a dancer. There was surely some talent hidden in him. Minho’s crewmate Hyunjin and Seungmin talked a lot as well, bonding over some linguistics course that Minho did not understand whatsoever.

On Wednesday, Seungmin and his teammates came into the diner as usual, and Minho took advantage of that by pinning Seungmin to the counter when he came to order. Hands on either side of him, they stared at each other for a good few seconds, Minho with a grin plastered on his face, and Seungmin simply rolling his eyes. Later, Minho didn’t miss the way Seungmin’s cheeks had flushed when he got bombarded with questions by his teammates.

On Thursday, they didn’t hang out. Minho went to the dance studio and went home without really doing anything very exciting. It was boring, really, but he blamed it on the fact that it was Thursday. He wasn’t a big fan of Thursdays anyways, regardless of whether he spent them with his fake boyfriend or not. 

On Friday, Minho bumped into Seungmin at the local Frozen Yoghurt place, where they had both gone to buy some refreshment in the middle of a taxing last day of the workweek. They sat together and ate their frozen yoghurt. (And maybe they shared a spoon because Minho accidentally broke his, and considered getting a second one to be wasteful. Later, he would classify that very moment as their ‘first indirect kiss’.)

On Saturday, Minho and Seungmin facetimed with their parents. A long overdue meeting, they both decided. It was cheerful, and they talked for at least a full hour on end while having drinks and snacks. Eventually, Seungmin declared that they really had to go or he’d miss his baseball game. A few minutes later, just as he was getting changed in Minho’s bathroom, a thunderstorm started, and Minho would be lying if he said that the thunderstorm was what he paid attention to when Seungmin walked out of his bathroom shirtless to stare out of the window with a frown. 

The match was cancelled that day, and they spent the rest of the afternoon at Minho’s place, planning what they would do with their cakes the next day. For a few minutes, they went outside and ran one circle around Minho’s flat, coming back drenched and laughing so hard that their chests hurt. 

Then, it was Sunday.

Sunday was a gloomy day, with dark clouds that hovered in the skies, even if it wasn’t raining. Minho found it particularly unpleasant, and while he drove to Seungmin’s place to pick his ‘boyfriend’ up, he had his fingers hovering just above the button that would activate the windscreen wipers. He’d promised to drive Seungmin and two of his friends to campus for their Valentine’s Day event, and to be honest, he was kind of nervous when he pulled up to the apartment complex where Seungmin lived. 

He perked up when he saw Seungmin and his friends exit the building, making a beeline for his car and getting in hastily. It had started raining. Seungmin basically fell down onto the passenger seat, leaning over the gearbox immediately and giving Minho an awkward side-hug. A kiss would’ve been more convenient and realistic, he thought, but it would also break the no unnecessary PDA rule. 

“Thanks for driving us,” Seungmin said as Minho started the engine and pressed down on the gas. “Amy’s car is out of service.”

“No problem,” Minho returned, eyes and mind already focused on the road instead of Seungmin. The journey went by pretty smoothly, and he was glad that Amy and her girlfriend managed to talk so much that he didn’t even have to say a lot apart from a few understanding yeahs. 

Eventually, they arrived on campus. The university had set up a tent with pink and red heart-shaped balloons decorating the outside brim, but a few people in clear raincoats were busy removing them. Seungmin and Minho trailed behind a bit as Amy and her girlfriend ran ahead to hide from the rain underneath the tent. Smart, possibly, because by the time Seungmin and Minho finally reached the tent, they were absolutely soaked.

“You look like a wet dog,” Amy told Seungmin. 

He ignored her.

“Hey guys!” one of the clear raincoats came skipping over. The man inside of the raincoat was wearing a red suit, and Minho was pretty sure he’d been forced to stand there or something, because who would do that voluntarily? “You here for the Valentine’s action?”

“Yup,” Seungmin said.

“Who’s the lucky one?” The guy’s eyes flickered back and forth between Minho, Amy, and her girlfriend. “Please don’t say it’s Amy. If Amy and you are dating I’m going to drop out.”

“Uh…” Seungmin took a hold of Minho’s hand. “It’s Minho, actually. No need to drop out on my behalf.”

“Wonderful! How long have you two been dating?”

“Two weeks,” Minho answered, “but we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Both moved here separately,” Seungmin said, “and somehow managed to meet again.”

“That’s so cute! Childhood friends to lovers… oh, that sounds like a fairytale! My girlfriend and I actually had something similar; we’ve been together since high school! I take it you want some cake and your hoodies, no?”

“We’d love some cake, thanks,” Minho said, putting on his very best smile. He honestly felt for the poor guy who had to stand there all day in the rain, being happy and giving people cake and hoodies when he could be on a date with his own real girlfriend. 

The guy turned to one of his two colleagues. “Can you get these two some cake?” Back to Seungmin and Minho. “Two hoodies would be thirty dollars with the sale. That good for you?”

“Perfect,” Seungmin said, already rummaging through his bag. 

The cake was good. They had it under the tent, sitting side by side, shoulders pressed against each other because it was cold and sitting arm-to-arm gave them at least a little bit of added warmth. Minho automatically sat down on the left of Seungmin, like he always had done. That way, Seungmin could eat with his right hand, and Minho with his left. It was a chocolatey sponge cake with a thick layer of fondant on top.

Minho stole Seungmin’s fondant, which had resulted in a short exchange along the lines of, “Why are you stealing my fondant?” “Because you don’t like it. Never have.” “Fine. Who cares about the damn fondant anyways?”

It was easy to play off their mutual silence as just enjoying each other’s company whenever someone asked them why they weren’t being lovey-dovey like the other couples that had started to show up. Perhaps it was closer to the truth than Minho liked to admit, because granted, there was something quite soothing and calm about the way Seungmin just sat next to him while their slices of cake got smaller and smaller. 

Their hoodies came wrapped in see-through plastic, but they were squishy nonetheless, giving a little preview of how soft exactly the fabric hidden inside was. The logo of Seungmin’s university was stitched on the front, white letters giving a stark contrast with the dark blue of the rest of the hoodie. 

“Are you even going to wear that thing?” Seungmin asked. 

“Probably,” Minho answered, scraping a little bit of cake off his paper plate. “You know I love loungewear.”

“I do.” Seungmin continued eating his cake. After a few more seconds of silence, watching the other couples bustle around the tent, he spoke up again. “Don’t you think this whole thing is kind of… underwhelming? I mean, not that I don’t like it and don’t think it was worth it, but I guess you may have expected something more… extravagant than this.”

“I don’t mind,” Minho said, and he was serious about it. He really didn’t mind. Honestly, it was a welcome change from his usual schedule, even if it meant sitting in the cold and rain for a while just eating cake and not even talking to his partner. Okay… maybe it was a bit odd that he enjoyed it as much as he did, but still. Not like he could help it. “I think it’s nice, actually.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want to drag you somewhere you don’t want to be.”

“Anywhere is okay when it’s with you.” It was a strange statement, but Minho didn’t care. None of the other couples were within earshot, so there had been no real reason to keep up the act of head-over-heels, honeymoon-phase boyfriends, but it felt right in a way. Method acting. That was what it was called, right?

Seungmin scoffed. “Cheesy fuck.”

“That’s what I’m here for. You wanna get dinner later? Would be rather suspicious if you left your boyfriend alone on Valentine’s, especially in the evening.”

“Sure. What do you want to eat? I’ll take the bill.”

“You’re too generous. We’ll split. Thoughts on fried chicken?”

Seungmin dropped his fork unceremoniously. He’d finished his cake. “I love fried chicken. Should we just eat it at your place? I don’t really feel like going to a restaurant or something. Being in public with you is kind of exhausting.”

“The feeling’s mutual. This act is kind of tiring to keep up,” Minho grinned. “Can’t keep pretending I like you. I know a good place for takeout.”

“Cool.” Seungmin nodded, and he almost looked like he had more to say. “Cool.”

The hoodie was soft. In fact, Minho hadn’t owned a piece of clothing that soft in a very long time. He revelled in the way it draped over his torso, decidedly too large because they had somehow decided to only sell size L at the stand. (He blamed it on the US having tall people. Tall people sucked. Apart from Hyunjin maybe. Or maybe they didn’t, because now he had a large hoodie.)

Seungmin had also changed into the hoodie as soon as they got to Minho’s place, partially because ‘ new clothes ’ and partially because his old hoodie was cold and wet from the weather outside. Minho had very helpfully offered a pair of sweatpants when he saw how wet exactly Seungmin’s jeans were. He did not want to imagine how annoying it was to take those off. With surprising eagerness, Seungmin had accepted the trousers and disappeared into the bathroom. 

They ordered fried chicken in a paper box that was spotted with grease and warm to the touch. They ate it on the couch, sat next to each other with eyes fixed on the television. At least, that was what Minho told himself - in reality, he didn’t remember a single thing of what played out on the show that Seungmin insisted they watch. What he did remember, however, was the fact that Seungmin had exactly five pieces of chicken with the dip that had been his favourite for over a decade.

What he did remember, was the fact that Seungmin gripped his chopsticks higher than back in the day. That he tucked his hoodie into his sweatpants and tied the strings in a little bow at the front. That he drank his water all at once instead of in sips throughout the meal. That his hair was still damp and had started to go slightly frizzy as it dried up. 

So yeah, he was slightly screwed when Seungmin asked, “What did you think of this episode?”

“Uh…” he stammered. “I mean, I liked it! The characters are great, and the plot was really good and interesting!”

Seungmin bit his lower lip and laughed softly. “That was the worst episode of the entire season. You didn’t pay any attention, did you?”

Minho was about to throw something back at him when Seungmin finally burst out into proper laughter, clear and like music to Minho’s ears. He couldn’t help but laugh along, slightly hesitant but nonetheless laughing. It made a warm feeling spread through his entire chest. 

“You’re mean,” he mumbled when they had gone silent again. Nothing was less true, but still, he’d never been the best at admitting it when he was happy. He always rather showed it in other ways. 

“You love me,” Seungmin teased. 

Minho huffed. He didn’t love Seungmin, no matter how hard he pretended the opposite. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one that loves me ,” he said. A bit of back-and-forth joking had never hurt either of them. It was just how they communicated, showed that they cared for each other. It only made sense that it was how Minho expressed that he loved Seungmin.

Oh.

Wait.

Minho blinked at himself a few times, staring at his reflection in the dark tv-screen, allowing his eyes to flicker over to Seungmin and back again. Reflection-Seungmin looked a bit blurry, his edges softened every so slightly. He looked comfy… cute almost.

“You do love me,” Seungmin said, as if he knew every single thing that had happened in Minho’s head over the past few seconds.

“I don’t,” Minho responded, but this time he wasn’t really telling Seungmin, but rather convincing himself. “I hate you with my entire body, like I’ve never hated anyone else.”

Seungmin hummed. “Alright then, boyfriend .” 

Minho didn’t miss how his own heart faltered at that, making him do a double take on Seungmin’s words. “Shut up,” he said weakly. “How much longer am I going to have to do this stupid act? It’s getting tiring.”

He was tired of it, after all, but the prospect of ending the fake dating was also scary. Too many questions about whether they’d lose contact again, whether things would be awkward, whether Seungmin’s friends would ever forgive him for ‘breaking up with Seungmin right after Valentine’s day’.

Or maybe what was tiring wasn’t pretending to be Seungmin’s boyfriend around his friends, but pretending not to like Seungmin around Seungmin.

He compartmentalized that thought in his mental folder of ‘emotions I’m too tired to unpack’. 

“A little while more? I don’t feel like pretending to be heartbroken and stuff, so we can just say in a few weeks that it was a mutual decision. That also gives us an excuse to hang out.”

“So you do enjoy spending your time with me?” Minho was supposed to make it sound like a purely teasing remark, but he cringed a little knowing that there was a very poorly-concealed vein of hope that Seungmin had definitely noticed. 

“I do, actually, though I don’t like the part where we pretend. Our relationship has never been pretend to like each other before, and I don’t really like that it is now.”

“You make it sound like you actually want to date me,” Minho scoffed. Again, poorly-concealed hope laced through the entire sentence. He was mad at himself even for just letting himself imagine what would happen if Seungmin said he did actually want to date him.

Of course, Seungmin just laughed it off. Minho joined, because there wasn’t much else for him to do. When they stopped laughing, the air between them felt heavier than before, and Minho tilted his head to the side to find Seungmin already looking at him. They just stared into each other's eyes for a while, Minho desperately hoping that Seungmin wouldn’t see right through him. It would all be okay if he didn’t look at Seungmin’s lips, if he didn’t allow his eyes to flicker down there t-

Damn it. 

Seungmin had caught it, Minho was sure, he could tell by the way Seungmin’s lips curled up into a sneaky smile (and he was still looking at Seungmin’s lips, curse him).

“Are you sure I’m the one that wants the dating to be real?” Seungmin asked.

“It’s not me, that’s for sure,” Minho replied, trying his very best to stop a blush from rising to his cheeks. Suddenly, he was glad that it was late and they hadn’t turned the lights on, even if it did make the entire atmosphere tenser. 

“Hmm…” Seungmin hummed. “I just realized, for an alleged couple, we haven’t really been very… couple-y, don’t you think?”

“We spent Valentine’s Day together,” Minho said. “I’d argue that’s quite couple-y.”

“We’ve hugged a maximum of three times, and we’ve never even kissed.”

“Plenty of couples don’t kiss in their first few weeks together. Plus, you said no unnecessary PDA, so I didn’t know if you wanted me to kiss you or not.”

“What if I did?”

And Minho’s heart stocked in his throat. He swallowed harshly, telling himself that it was just a joke and turning away to stand up. Gathering the plates and empty boxes on the table, he said, “Why would you want me to kiss you? Nowhere in this agreement did we decide to actually like each other.

Seungmin sighed behind him. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I probably made you uncomfortable just now. I was just joking.”

Just joking. It was always joking with Seungmin. Jokes this, jokes that, it’s not for real, I was just kidding. Minho’s fingers tightened around the plate he was holding, in fear of dropping them if he trembled too much. “Don’t joke about that kind of stuff.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay… just… help me carry this stuff to the kitchen, and then I’ll get the couch ready and go to sleep.”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch again,” Seungmin said decidedly. “I don’t care. We’ll make room for two in your bed.”

Minho froze. Like hell was he going to spend a night in the same bed as Seungmin after his little realization . “I’ll be fine on the couch. Accept my hospitality while I offer it to you.”

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch, though. If you’re uncomfortable sharing a bed with me, I’ll sleep on the couch, or I’ll go home and tell them you dumped me. Makes the whole breakup story--”

“Don’t do that,” Minho said, completely careless that he was interrupting. “I don’t care about sleeping in the same bed. Was just unsure if you were uncomfortable.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t care either.”

“Bed then?”

“Bed.”

Minho had made many mistakes, but sharing a bed with his childhood friend whom he’d realized he liked just a little while ago definitely made it to the top of his list. He was laying perfectly still in bed, trying his hardest to ignore Seungmin’s arm, which was draped loosely across Minho’s abdomen. How had he managed to forget that Seungmin was a fucking cuddler when he was asleep?

His heart was racing, and it took him an arguably too long while before he dared to turn over so that his back was facing Seungmin. If he had to be face-to-face with Seungmin’s sleeping form, he was pretty sure he’d spontaneously combust. As he slowly turned over onto his side though, Seungmin huffed in his sleep and tightened the arm he had on Minho’s waist, resulting in them both being basically plastered together and sending Minho in an even more intense fit of panic. 

I mean, who could blame him? He was pretty much being spooned by Seungmin. 

He froze up again, going rigid against Seungmin. It wasn’t very long though until he realized that being all tense in a hug when he was supposed to be sleeping wasn’t the best idea, nor comfy for either of them. Plus, Seungmin was asleep, so it did no harm to revel in the soft tenderness of the moment for just a bit. 

So Minho relaxed, pulling the blanket up to his chin and letting himself melt into Seungmin’s embrace. Just for a little while, he promised himself, and then he’d pry himself from Seungmin’s grip and move away. Just for a little while…

Of course, he ended up falling asleep, which resulted in Minho waking up with a very confused and sleep-dazed Seungmin still breathing into his neck.

“My arm is asleep,” was the first thing Seungmin said that morning as Minho internally panicked about the fact that he was still being hugged . 

However, Seungmin didn’t show any plan of stopping their unintentional cuddling session, because he just adjusted his sleeping arm and lay back down with a heavy sigh, still holding Minho close to his chest. 

“You’re hugging me,” Minho said. 

Seungmin hummed into his neck. “I know. You’re warm. Should I stop?”

Regardless of his mind screaming at him to say ‘no’, Minho responded with a simple “I don’t care.”

“Mkay.” Seungmin pressed his forehead against the nape of Minho’s neck for a second, and Minho felt the warmth pulse through him and tingle his toes.

“Why are you so clingy in the morning?” he asked.

“You’re warm,” Seungmin repeated, like it made any sense at all. “And soft. Good to hug.”

“So you do love me?” Minho stared against the sun that fell in through the window. It doused both of them in a golden kind of light, much different than the atmosphere last night. A lot softer and lighter, like the milk foam on top of a coffee compared to the coffee itself. 

“How could I not?”

Minho prayed that Seungmin wasn’t so close that he could hear Minho’s heartbeat, because he could hear it going haywire in his own ears, thrumming in his veins and knocking at his brain as if to say ‘let me in, you need to admit your feelings’. 

“Do you love me?” Seungmin asked, and it was different. His breath was hot against Minho’s neck, and he sounded almost fragile.

“I think I do,” Minho said. “Of course I do.”

The arms around him tightened just a little bit. “Turn around?”

“I can’t if you’re holding me in place like this.” Minho wiggled around a bit experimentally, but Seungmin’s arms wouldn’t budge. 

“Right.” They loosened, and Minho turned, and then he was face-to-face with Seungmin.

Staring right into Seungmin’s half-lidded and sleepy eyes was something nothing could prepare Minho for. He held his breath, just letting himself take in Seungmin’s puffy-ish face and pouty lips for a second. Most likely, Seungmin was doing exactly the same thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when he was currently looking at the most beautiful human he’d ever seen. 

“Pretending kind of sucks,” Minho said. 

“Mhm.” 

“You look funny with squishy cheeks.”

“Mhm…” Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and lifted his head before dropping it back onto the pillow. His cheeks puffed back out. “I’m tired.”

“I can see.”

“Pretending does suck.”

“You’re right, it does.” Minho lifted a hand and used it to gently remove a strand of hair from Seungmin’s face. “Let’s stop.”

“Mhm. Can we cuddle again?”

Minho opened his arms, and Seungmin slid right in, holding on to him tightly again and tucking Minho’s head under his chin. “And you say I’m the warm and soft one,” Minho said.

“Minho… can I confess something?”

“Of course.”

“I kind of… maybe like you. I mean, I’m fully okay with it if you don’t like me back, but I think you should know, because I don’t want to keep this from you and we’re still supposed to be pretend dating and I fully understand if you’re uncomfortable with that but I just couldn’t keep it a secret any longer,” Seungmin rambled, stumbling over words and speech still lazy with sleep. 

“Seungmin…” Minho said. He could hear Seungmin’s heart beat beneath his own, and he didn’t know which one was beating faster. “Shut up.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean… I guess I kind of like… I like you too?”

It was silent for a bit, and Minho almost got scared. His brain ran around making up scenarios about rejection and Seungmin letting go of him right now when he was so comfy in the hug. 

“You do?” Seungmin eventually said. “Not joking?”

“I do…”

“Then… Can I kiss you? Maybe?”

Minho screwed his eyes shut and nodded into Seungmin’s neck, not even meeting his eyes as he detached himself from Minho and leaned down to connect their lips. It was short, gentle and soft, lasting for not more than a few seconds, but Minho was sure he’d never felt anything better in his life.

“I liked that,” he whispered as he tentatively opened his eyes again.

“You have morning breath,” Seungmin replied, but the fondness in his voice was horribly concealed, and Minho buried his face in the crook of his neck to giggle. 

“Can we like… be real boyfriends then?”

“Mhm. Past few weeks were just a free trial,” Minho murmured.

“Well, were you satisfied with your experience? From now on, I’ll take seven dollars a month.”

“Idiot,” Minho said.

“ Your idiot.” Seungmin said, drawing out his voice in an annoying way, and lightly tickling Minho’s sides. 

“Can we keep the rule of no cheesy stuff please? I liked that one.”

“You’re going to have to put up with so much cheesy shit from now on.”

“I’ll deal with it if you let me kiss you in public.”

“Deal.”

Minho laughed into Seungmin’s hoodie, before deeply inhaling and slumping against him properly. 

“Oh,” Seungmin said suddenly. “Fuck.”

“Hm?”

“It’s monday.”