Work Text:
You meet people.
You either like them or tolerate them.
You make friends.
You ditch people.
You meet new people again.
Everyone's life has a plot. Pointers, sections we are familiar with. Days we tolerate. Hours we don't want to visit ever again.
Minho's story is mostly on the sidelines. A minor subplot to everyone's bigger stories. Never the main character.
But being the forgotten side character has its own perks too.
No one remembers if he is gone for hours. He can hide in bright daylight. He can meet new people, flirt with them. And he can move on to the next group when the sun sets.
People hire Minho. For multiple reasons.
If they need someone to play a good son. An on-demand driver. A fake boyfriend.
He can play every role perfectly. Years of practice. Years of being a fake person for every event.
Sometimes he is Heeseul, sometimes Yerim. New names, new personalities.
He likes the thrill.
Being amongst people. Role-playing. Theatrics.
He loves it.
But he is going to be Minho today.
Plain Minho.
Not a client.
Real life.
"Sorry for the shirt…..I did not realize. I will buy you a new one."
"No! I mean, it's okay. We went with the flow. I don't mind."
"You can't go outside half-naked, Minho."
As if that would matter. He is invisible, Chan is ignorant.
Chan is also Minho's reality. Harsh truth. The only person he is willing to make changes for. Compromises.
Even if it's as a fake protagonist, Minho is willing to take part in Chan's life story. A few hours every Saturday. At Chan's place mostly. In bed, outside of it. Hangover soups and chocolates.
Minho can relive his Saturdays every single day.
"I can, don't worry. It's hot and I'm fit."
"That you are. Oh, how much time you have on you? Feeling kinda on it…..don't wanna let you go yet."
Please let me stay.
"Haha, you have two, three hours. Another round?"
"Gladly."
The ecstasy is beyond this world. Maybe love makes everything a hundred times more beautiful.
Minho takes the lead this time. He had wanted to. The control over the one he loved so dearly. The one who is going to move away soon. The one who is not his, will never be his. The one who he knows every inch of, who knows every inch of Minho. A hallucination. A dream. A smudged reality.
The one who will go back to be the perfect guy he is. Back to his palace. Back to his perfect life. Back to his fiancé.
He rides, lost to the world. Lost to the one underneath him. He is holding on to this moment. He is going to drag it.
He is going to make the night worth it.
For himself. For Prince Chan.
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Their story started a couple years back.
A misfortune laced with pure luck.
A rogue prince, a freeway dweller.
A motorbike, a night at the motel.
Minho likes his bullet, Chan liked it too. Their passion stemmed from a parkway sex - the movements too fascinating, the thrill sending both of them to a final room.
Saturdays come from there.
A fixed day to relieve stress, for Chan. A fixed day to finally be himself, for Minho.
There are multiple reasons why Minho did not fabricate his truth.
The fear of treason.
The attraction.
The hope.
Only Chan knows his truth now. That he has a family sitting in the countryside. Those who think he is working at a factory at a good wage. That he used to work in a factory but was laid off. That he has been on his foot and mouth for the past few years so he can send some money back home.
Minho did not tell all these things to Chan for sympathy. Or money. He is not a client. Minho has other clients. Non-sexual ones.
With Chan, it's not a sugar relationship.
It's crazy, it's immoral, it's undercover. But he is not gaining anything out of it. Nothing monetary at least.
Minho is doing everything by choice. He craves for those hours. One last kiss.
These are not shackles. They are wings.
Floating to the free world.
His limited happiness.
One and a half years of being acquaintances.
One and a half years of physical intimacy.
One year of warmth.
One year of holding back.
Half a year to love.
Minho did fall harder than the rain that day. Wrapped in Chan's arm, eating out of one stick of meat, giving everything he could.
It's only him. And he knows it. Chan's made it clear that it will go nothing beyond the physical. That it cannot go beyond the physical. He has so much to lose.
Minho's is going to remain here. Loving in the ways he can, watching things move in motion outside his control. Like a comfortable place for Chan. Hidden, but safe.
He is going to keep loving him from afar.
Sometimes you are made to be the main part of the subplot. That character who everyone pities.
Minho has embraced this part. He is destined to take care of the person he is deeply in love with. Nothing more, nothing less.
And it doesn't hurt.
It stops hurting after a while.
He only has three Saturdays left until even this will be taken away from him.
He can go back to playing Euarin, Sangwoon or whoever he wants to be.
The country is going to rejoice over Minho's remains. He is giving away his happiness.
A holy matrimony.
An alliance.
Chan is going to be the crown prince after the alliance, officially. The wedding will be on every newspaper, every news channel.
Minho might also tune in for the broadcast. It depends on his client for the day. He might be at the diner. At a club. At someone's family home.
Somewhere. Nowhere.
And so he kisses. Deep and full. Ready to unleash the beast. Tongue on tongue. Shallow bites. Marks. Passion turning up the heat in the room.
Love.
It's love more than anything.
Crazy.
Hidden.
Open.
Wronged.
Don't. Let's not give up on this. I am ready to be with you for the whole night. Do whatever you want.
Chan is a soft lover on days. Minho wants heat. He wants tears he will remember for months. Even after this engagement ends, for forever. Even after Chan goes to bang his fiance, wife by then.
He wants Chan to swallow him whole. He wants to swallow Chan whole. Give and take.
Only give.
Give away everything.
Minho has only a few things to offer. Chan is willing to take none.
Let me love you, please.
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Minho has moved a thousand nights in the city.
Faces. Disguises. Hatred. Disgust.
This is a thousand and one.
Marked with a huge cross.
More than two years after the fateful night.
He had run away that day. In tears. The barriers finally breaking apart. The day he had let go and moved on. Easier for him to do. His place is in the middle of nowhere. Dirt and broken apart.
Not realizing he had paparazzi behind him.
Chan's face had been on every inch of the city. Not the matrimony he had assumed to watch.
Labels.
No, they were not secret lovers.
No, Minho wasn't a gold-digger.
No, Chan did not cheat on his fiancé. They were friends at the best. Same pressure.
A thousand articles. Each harsher than the next. Allegations. Doxing. Interrogations.
Decision.
Miracles.
It's funny how the night changes.
He thought it was only him.
Turns out it is Chan too. Slow but steady.
Once a rogue, always a rogue.
They had biked through the woods. To clearances. Breaking boundaries. Disguises. Making love under the stars. Catching fireflies.
This had cost Chan his palace life and family. But he hardly cared.
Something has shifted.
Minho's role has shifted to match the main plot. Still at the distance, but near enough.
That was a thousand nights ago. Minho has an eternity to live with Chan.
"Get on, we are going to see the mountains."
"Wherever you take me."
He can feel Chan's arms around him. Fit snug. Warmth radiating from his soul.
This is freedom.
This is heaven.