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It was happening again. A two week dry spell, and whatever hope he had somehow managed to build up over those oh so quiet weeks was immediately quashed by the sounds of a headboard banging into a wall repeatedly. Not just any wall, though, the one right across the hall from where he was currently watching a drama in his own bed. Maybe they were lucky enough if their elderly neighbor didn’t know exactly what that sound meant by now, but Seungmin – Seungmin knew too well.
Two weeks of polite small talk and tiny smiles, all for naught. He sat up with a wince and debated venturing into the kitchen for a snack before settling down for the long night he would inevitably have to face. At least he knew they were in the bedroom this time; he only had so much tolerance for seeing his roommate butt-naked with another guy in their shared living space before he put his foot down. Any sane living partner would do the same, right?
Seungmin forced himself to hobble down the hallway, pointedly ignoring the sock haphazardly pulled over the doorknob of the room opposite his. His phone was tucked into his pocket, the drama still going. When he cupped his hands over the headphone muffs, it was for the sole purpose of hearing the interesting part of the drama, yeah, definitely not because Minho let out one of his porn worthy moans. His roommate wasn’t usually very loud, but when he was, it sifted through the thin apartment walls like they were made of cheesecloth. And it usually meant – okay, Seungmin hurried up just in case. He grabbed some goldfish, and after a moment of debate, a can of dr pepper. To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what a night like this had in store for him – after the first few times, Seungmin made it a habit to spend a night at Hyunjin’s, Jisung’s, or Chan’s whenever he knew Minho was going out clubbing. Just in case. He alternated so that none of their friends got suspicious; not that Minho would appreciate the sentiment. Maybe he was trying to get Seungmin to move out without explicitly stating it.
The clock above the stove told him that it was just past eleven pm. Wonderful. He turned to go back to his room and nearly yelped when there was a man just standing in the doorway, looking ruffled and vaguely content. Minho had that effect on people.
“Do you know where the bathroom—” he moved to hold up a hand – probably to gesture, but Seungmin didn’t want to risk glimpsing a used condom – and Seungmin grimaced, hissing lowly at him.
“Down the hall to the left,” he grumbled, reaching into his pocket to turn up the volume of his drama in order to block out the inviting silence of Minho’s room as he passed. It was never the same guy, not anymore. Minho never called back any of his old hookups – rarely gave out his number, by the looks of it. Just the fact that so many random men and women have been through their home brought a sense of unease to Seungmin, but whatever. It wasn’t his place to intervene.
He bit his lip and fell back to the bed, groaning in the supremely unsexy way as he did so. He and Jisung had taken to early morning runs as of late, and it was taking a toll on the rest of his body. While it was great for his mind, to see his oldest friend everyday and chat after so long of isolation (and to get away from Minho in the morning, not that he’d voiced that as one of his reasons for suggesting the runs) maybe he should have worked up to the mile they did every morning instead of just jumping right into it. He sighed and pulled out his phone. Before the realization of the night, this drama had been very entertaining – it had managed to get him out of his head and into someone else's, something commendable these days.
Now, all he could do was stare at the ceiling and mope. Luckily, his aching muscles won over at some point, and he didn’t have to hear when or if the noises started up again. It wouldn’t be the first time Minho kicked someone out.
The universe must have taken pity on Seungmin, because Minho’s door was tightly shut the next morning, the sock still hanging limply in the light of dawn washing through the skylight. The man himself was nowhere to be seen, even as Seungmin tiptoed into the kitchen in his running gear, just in case. When he met Jisung by the front of his building, it was with a practiced half-smile and friendly punch to the arm. If his best friend didn’t suspect anything, he highly doubted anyone else would even bring it up. Jisung was one of the most observant individuals he had the displeasure of meeting, and he wasn’t about to let his failing friendship be made known if it wasn’t already apparent. He didn’t want to be the one that put words to it.
“You good?” Jisung questioned during their warmups, eyes finding Seungmin’s from beneath the stupid hat he always insisted on wearing.
“Yeah,” Seungmin sighed. “Didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night.” It was true, he was feeling more tired than usual.
To his horror, Jisung paused what he was doing and his face split into a wide grin. “Ah, Minho back at it again?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t know,” Jisung said with a slight frown. He had been friends with Minho long before the two of them ever met, and had been the one that actively encouraged Seungmin to reach out when he heard Minho was in the market for a new roommate. “I don’t know how that man survived quarantine, really. Surprised his dick is still attached— it is, isn’t it?” his head whipped around to look at Seungmin with concern.
He spluttered. “What— how would I know?”
Jisung shrugged. “I mean, you do share a living space.”
Seungmin scoffed and started jogging away from Jisung.
“Hey! No fair!”
“Stop being weird, then.” He yelled over his shoulder, desperately trying to coach his breathing back into a steady rhythm. Mentions of Minho weren’t good for his heart on a good day, and certainly not after the night he’d just had. His heart beat until it was raw in his chest, and Seungmin gradually increased his pace so that the ache in his limbs would match.
Han Jisung, reliable as ever, fell into step beside him and panted out, “I can’t, you know it’s in my nature.” He shot Seungmin a side glance and bright smile before pulling ahead like the competitive bastard he was.
Another great thing about running Seungmin had figured out over the few weeks they’d been doing it: if you could still carry a conversation, you weren’t doing it right.
–
His first thought upon reentering the apartment that morning was a nice, resounding fuck. Thank goodness he’d long since developed a steady brain-to-mouth filter, and only presented a sleepy Lee Minho with a tight lipped smile and nod as he tried to scoot past him and back into his room. Seungmin barely had the chance to hope the random guy had already gone before Minho’s fingers wrapped around his wrist firmly.
“Breakfast?” He asked tentatively, brown eyes almost twinkling in the light of morning. He was in a hoodie and sweats, and Seungmin didn’t have to look to know there were fluffy socks encasing his feet. This Minho was soft and needy, one that often made an appearance during the weeks they’d been confined to the apartment together. It was one of the rarest sides of him, and perhaps Seungmin’s favorite.
Still, his chest was sore with all the breath that had ripped through his lungs earlier that morning, and his heart burned with the memory of what Minho had just gotten up to the previous night. Pulling a 360 on him like this wouldn’t always work. So, instead of joining Minho at the counter like he usually would, instead of sitting on the other stool in silence as Minho made omlettes for the both of them, Seungmin scowled at him and turned away.
He felt the way Minho recoiled behind him, as though slapped, but didn’t stop on his route back to the room. The damage had been done; their tentative alliance seemed to have finally shattered – by Seungmin’s own doing. Fuck, indeed.
“And try to keep it down next time,” he aimed the words over his shoulder, shooting them directly at a startled Minho before he disappeared behind the hallway wall. “You do know I get up early most days, right?”
The early mornings were a recent development, so he actually wasn’t sure if Minho knew or not. He didn’t really think Minho cared, most of the time. Whatever friendship they’d built over their months of quarantine didn’t seem to extend into an almost pandemic free world. Seungmin was just setting the boundaries where Minho hadn’t been able to for whatever reason. He wanted to sleep around again? Seungmin wouldn’t stop him.
He had enough courtesy left so as to not slam the door, but it was a very close call. Seungmin threw himself into the desk chair with a huff, tearing his hands through his hair just to feel something other than the thrum of regret through his veins – his traitorous heart was the whole reason for this predicament in the first place.
Hours might’ve passed, or maybe just minutes – all Seungmin knew was that when the quiet knocks on his bedroom door sounded, he sat up straight. The door didn’t open.
“Seungmin,” Minho said, and Seungmin screwed his eyes shut. He just knew that the man had his weight pressed against the door, and was probably beating himself up over what he’d said earlier. As much as Seungmin wished he hadn’t said it, there was no taking back the truth. “I’m sorry,” Minho tried again, hesitant. “I didn’t mean to ruin your sleep, I—” his breath hitched, and then there was quiet for a moment. “Can I come in?”
Yes. Always, yes. He didn’t voice the words aloud, instead opting to bury his face in his hands. Kim Seungmin would always be weak where Lee Minho was concerned, and the doorknob turning slowly to reveal his face peering into the darkness of the room certainly wouldn’t change that. The open expression on his beautiful face when he walked in almost made Seungmin want to spill his guts, confess everything that had been weighing on him since quarantine had lifted.
“I thought you were out, last night,” Minho said quietly, and every little admission went sour on Seungmin’s tongue.
“‘Cause that makes it so much better,” Seungmin muttered with a scoff.
“Doesn’t it?” The frown was palpable from just Minho’s tone, and Seungmin snapped his mouth shut. He had told himself, ever since Minho brought the first person home, that he wouldn’t do this. It was painfully obvious that the feelings weren’t returned, that Minho didn’t want him anymore – it was his job as a friend and as a roommate to respect that. He wouldn’t be that person. He wouldn’t be the possessive jerk that had no right.
“I don’t want to hear you—”
“You don’t want to hear me?” Minho repeated, slowly, like he couldn’t believe a word Seungmin just said. His eyes flashed in the darkness, hardening his cuddly demeanor into something Seungmin was more used to.
“No," Seungmin hissed. He was one second away from going back to carding his own fingers through his hair in frustration. “You’re not—”
“I’m not what, Kim Seungmin?”
"Listening,” he said with a pointed glare. “Stop interrupting me,” Seungmin stood up, now only inches away from his roommate’s face. He watched as Minho’s lips curled into a cheshire smirk. It didn’t match his attire – his soft kitten socks, or his wire framed glasses. And then Minho’s hands were on his shoulders, pulling him in, and his eyes were closed as his oh-so-soft lips landed on Seungmin’s for what must’ve happened dozens of times before but still felt like the first, and it was—
Wrong. So wrong. His hands found their way to Minho’s waist, and pushed him back gently.
“I’m, uh—” of course, now words fail him. “I’m gonna go, and… I don't know.” He was pacing, and Minho was just standing there, dazed. He clearly wasn’t in the right headspace for this, and quite honestly neither was Seungmin. He stopped and turned to Minho. “Do you need anything?” Even though he shook his head, Seungmin let out a sigh and nudged Minho towards his door.
“I can find my own way, thanks,” Minho snapped in his face before slamming the door.
The churning in Seungmin’s stomach didn’t stop at all when he pushed Minho away, and was back with fearsome intensity now that he had left the room. What was he doing? Seungmin ran a hand down his face and looked around for his phone. He couldn’t be there tonight. Hyunjin was next up for the rounds of staying over, so he sent a quick text on his way out of the room. He patted his pocket to ensure the keys were where he’d left them, and he walked out of the apartment with little more than a sigh.
He and Minho hadn’t really known each other at all when they moved in together. That changed over the year or so of quarantine they endured, and Seungmin thought whatever they had was going to last even once the restrictions were lifted. Apparently, he was wrong.
The trek to Hyunjin’s flat was made longer by the downpour that Seungmin had neglected to notice in his own apartment. Now that he was out there, trudging down a city sidewalk through the rain, Minho didn’t seem so scary anymore. Maybe he could apologize, even explain some of the stuff going through his head – if that would help. Maybe he wasn’t alone in this.
“Come in,” Hyunjin said, whipping open the door after his first knock. “Seung, you’re shaking.” He gestured for something but Seungmin couldn’t really be sure. His bangs kept dripping into his eyes, and it wasn’t a very comfortable experience.
He blinked a few times in an attempt to clear the water and offered Hyunjin a smile. “Didn’t know it was raining.” Even though it was the truth, Hyunjin let out a skeptical hum and wrapped him in the towel offered by Felix. “Hi, Felix,” he said quietly as Hyunjin toweled his hair dry.
“Hi, Seungmin,” Felix returned, and when the towel was lifted, Seungmin was greeted by a large smile. Felix was an angel among men, really.
“Did you get the chance to read what I sent?” Hyunjin asked, moving on to Seungmin’s upper body. He witnessed an exchange of glances between Felix and Hyunjin, so he figured it must be weird that he hadn’t insisted on doing it himself yet. In lieu of keeping the peace, Seungmin reluctantly batted his friend’s hands away and took over towel duties.
“Uh, no. Sorry.”
Another glance exchange.
“Well, Felix and I were actually on our way out,” Hyunjin said with a grimace. Immediately, guilt tore through Seungmin’s gut, and he straightened up. “We were gonna go clubbing tonight, actually.”
“But we’d be more than happy to stay home and watch netflix or something,” Felix piped in, warm as ever.
“I can go?” Seungmin suggested, voice soft in the whirling storm of thoughts inside his head. Go? Go where? It wasn’t as if he had an abundance of friends he could leech off of for the night.
Almost immediately, his half-baked idea was met with a chorus of firm no’s from both of his friends.
“You need to get warm and dry, and maybe then we can talk about what to do next,” Hyunjin said, guiding him further into the apartment.
“You could always come with us, too,” Felix said, following behind them. “We don’t normally stay out very late, and you could get away from whatever’s been bugging you.” He shrugged. “Though a soft blanket and netflix might work just as well. And cocoa!”
It sounded nice, the night Felix was describing, but Seungmin knew it wouldn’t be enough to turn off his brain. Even Felix’s cocoa couldn’t slow the uncomfortable whirring going on upstairs, so maybe it was time he tried stronger substances. He could give Minho a taste of his own medicine.
“Can I go with you guys?”
Hyunjin pulled away from him to grip his shoulders tightly, his own worried eyes finding Seungmin’s. “Are you sure? We really wouldn’t mind staying home, Minnie.”
“I want to go out,” Seungmin said with a shy smile. “Sounds fun.”
“Okay,” Felix clapped, breaking the tense silence. “Let’s get you into some new clothes, then.” His hands were caring as he guided Seungmin into Hyunjin’s room and dug around the closet for something nice to wear. Hyunjin hovered in the doorway, still looking unsure. Whatever carefully built guise of okayness Seungmin had worked on for the past few months was taking a heavy hit now. He should be more careful, really.
–
He really should have been more careful, Seungmin thought as he stumbled into the elevator of his own apartment building. He’d had a few drinks, but not enough to ensure he didn’t remember the man dancing beside him, laughing with him, pressing him against the wall. Whatever had been in those shots hadn’t been enough to erase the memory of lips on his neck – lips that weren’t Minho’s. He shuddered again, and readily fell against the door he knew to be his. Theirs. Whatever.
Thankfully, Hyunjin had slipped his apartment keys into the new pants he’d put on, so he wasn’t locked out. Imagine if he had to ask Minho for help at the moment – embarrassing. Seungmin let himself in and immediately shivered. Though it had stopped raining, nothing could have prepared him for how cold the apartment was going to be. Minho must have cranked the AC up in some kind of revenge ploy. At least he wasn’t the only petty one.
The clock over the stove told him that it was just past four in the morning, and he was going insane. He’d better text Jisung to let him know that running wasn’t going to be happening that morning. Yeah. Seungmin found his way into the living room area and flopped down against the couch. Something bunched up felt horrible beneath him, so he dug it out with a murmured what the fuck. A hoodie, perfect. He shrugged it on, and then pressed send on his text. Now he just had to get to bed. He did so with a reluctant look at Minho’s door as he shuffled past; Minho was probably in there, all warm and soft and willing to cuddle in his sleepy state. Seungmin fought to blink away tears as he pushed open his own door – he really missed Minho. Not for the first time, and definitely not the last, Seungmin fell asleep with that thought at the forefront of his mind.
Seungmin was a weak man. The smell of bacon wafting through the apartment was far too good for his muddled brain to make sense of before immediately urging him in that direction. Stupid misguided survival instincts. He shuffled sleepily out into the hallway and then down towards the kitchen, finally halting when he was within plain view of Minho. Slowly, Seungmin advanced until he could slip onto one of the stools, and watch quietly as Minho worked.
“You’re back.” It didn’t really have a tone to it, just an observation if anything. Seungmin nodded absentmindedly. He shuffled over to their keurig, intent on making himself something that would wake him up enough for this conversation. Once he’d started the process, he turned back to Minho.
“I’m back.” He said with a shrug. He would probably always come back to Minho, not that he would ever voice that particular musing. “We should talk.”
Seungmin watched as Minho’s greedy eyes trailed down and up his frame, watched as they zeroed in on his neck and hardened. His mouth tightened into a thin line, and before Seungmin could ask what was wrong, his coffee was pouring behind him. As he turned around to collect it, Minho walked back around the counter. “No, I don’t think so.”
“What?” Seungmin frowned. “Min—”
“Look at yourself, Seungmin,” Minho said with a sneer. “In my hoodie with someone else’s marks on your neck. Is that what you were doing last night? And you think we can still fix this.” He scoffed.
Seungmin fought the urge to scowl. As if Minho had the right at all to call him a mess. “I think we have to. For our friendship— we’re still roommates.”
“What friendship?” Minho asked simply. “I don’t think we were ever friends.”
He was right. That was the worst part, maybe. Seungmin knew Minho was right, even as he flinched at the words thrown at him. They didn’t have a chance to be friends before they were roommates, and anything afterwards was purely out of convenience. It was Seungmin’s suspicions put into words; it was everything he feared. He was just something for Minho to use to get his dick wet over quarantine. He was no better than those guys that he brought through their flat every few weeks. He meant nothing, in the bigger picture.
“No, you know what?” Seungmin pushed himself off the counter and towards Minho. “You don’t get to make me feel like shit for the one night I went out. Not when you’ve been fucking around for months, and I haven’t said anything. If you just slept with me because I was easy, fine. Fine. But you don’t get to call me a mess, Minho. Figure your shit out, or consider yourself in the search for a new roommate.” Seungmin took a breath after letting out all he’d been thinking for weeks. It didn’t feel good, but it had to be said. “Maybe you can fuck with their mind instead of mine. I’m done.” He walked towards his room, pulling the hoodie off as he went. So what if he was still in the clothes from clubbing the night before? Minho thought he was stupid whether he was in leather pants or not. It didn’t matter anymore.
As soon as he got back into the dark, stale safety of his room, Seungmin collapsed. Everywhere, there were traces of Minho. You can’t live for someone for a year and a half without absorbing little bits of each other over time. The blanket strewn across his bed was a Christmas gift from Minho’s mom; at least half of his pens in the cup on his desk were thanks to Minho and his school supplies obsession. His posters, his favorite sweater, the stickers on the back of his laptop – Minho, Minho, Minho. It didn’t take very long for the first sob to claw its way up Seungmin’s throat, and he was helpless to stop it, even if Minho could hear.
Good, let him. Not that he would care much.
It was hours later that Seungmin snuck out of his room to the kitchen. It was kind of sad, really, that he’d become a stranger in his own home – resorting to sneaking around to avoid confrontation with his ̷f̷r̷i̷e̷n̷d̷ roommate. He already had goldfish in his room, so he was looking for something a little more… well. Seungmin leaned against the counter, reaching for the bottle of rosé they’d bought together to celebrate the end of quarantine all those weeks ago. Minho had gone out later to celebrate in his own way, and they never ended up using it. Well, cheers to the end of a relationship, Seungmin thought, digging a corkscrew into the top of the bottle, if it could even be called that.
He took a swig of the pink liquid and grimaced, walking out towards the balcony to sit and muse over how he’d even gotten into this mess. It had been fine, more than fine, for a while. Now, he knew better, but felt worse off. He missed when it was just him and Minho, the outside world be damned. He let out a snicker as he thought of all the ways he failed. Seungmin was twenty-six, and the most significant relationship of his life thus far was nothing more than a joke he hadn’t been in on.
The screen door behind him slid open. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. Seungmin held up the bottle for Minho to take as he sat down beside him, threading his legs between the rails in a graceful mimicry of Seungmin. Neither of them sought to be the first to speak, so they passed the bottle back and forth for a while in comfortable silence.
“I really did love you,” Seungmin eventually spoke, eyes on the sky above them. Maybe if they didn’t live in the middle of a city, where light pollution and smog coated everything beautiful, he could have seen the stars.
“Did?” Minho questioned, fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the bottle’s label.
“Do,” Seungmin confirmed. His roommate hummed quietly. “You make it difficult.”
Minho let out a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so. I’m not used to it.”
“What?”
“Loving someone.” He paused. “Being loved.”
Though something in Seungmin’s chest felt tight, he made no move to comfort Minho. He was telling the truth when he said he was done. “That’s not an excuse.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be,” Minho said. He blinked before looking over to Seungmin. “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry it was too much. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Seungmin grabbed the bottle back from Minho and took another sip instead of responding. He didn’t want to acknowledge that statement, not yet. “We’ve both been immature, huh.”
“Moreso me,” Minho sighed, and Seungmin didn’t refute that. They weren’t there to mend anything; this was goodbye.
Silence stretched in the space between them again, and for the first time in the past few months, Seungmin felt like they were on the same page. He leaned over and gave Minho a kiss on the cheek before standing up.
“Don’t wait up,” Minho called as Seungmin stood to stretch. He was going to bed, and they both knew that he wouldn’t be there when Minho woke up.
“Or you,” Seungmin said with a nod, not unkind at all. If he smiled to himself on the way back to his room, for the first time in months, that was his own business. No one else’s.
This time, his hands weren’t shaky as he grabbed his phone. He called Chan instead of texting, feeling confident in his voice for the first time in a while. Tears would come, he knew. Sleepless nights and days where he took showers curled up on the tile would find their way into his life, but he would be okay. He would be alright.