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Minho knocks twice outside of Seungmin’s room in Japan, holding two onigiri in his free hand. Even though he can hear him already shuffling on the other side, it’s still too slow for his patience this morning.
“Kim Seungmin!” Minho half-shouts.
When Seungmin finally swings open the door, Minho allows himself a single second to look over his slightly messy hair and puffy lips. Then he barrels past him before his brain can put together the word “cute”. He places the onigiri on the desk.
“Eat.” Minho commands, settling onto the unmade bed.
Seungmin, still a little bleary in the eyes, closes the door and walks over to the chair unhurriedly.
“Did you have breakfast already?” he yawns. He doesn’t open the onigiri triangle until Minho nods. Obedient little shit.
“Thank you,” Seungmin mumbles into seaweed and rice.
“Your manager had to help the staff with something,” Minho waves off, as if that excuses why he’s been coming into Seungmin’s room with food or demanding to order something all throughout tour.
He definitely doesn’t tell Seungmin he specifically got them for him at the convenience store earlier. That told he told his manager that he had breakfast covered. It’s really not a big deal, he’s just been feeling antsy the past couple days, traveling by himself due to his separate hosting schedule. He doesn’t tell Seungmin he’s the member he sought out, that he immediately feels some empty part of him fill up being in his space like this again.
“Mhm,” Seungmin hums, voice laced with doubt.
Minho suddenly feels very alert. A familiar burning sensation starts to creep up his neck. God, why does it feel like he got caught doing something ridiculous? He’s never going to be nice or affectionate or thoughtful again. It’s not worth the particular kind of embarrassment that washes over him with Seungmin. They’re divorced. Minho needs to act like it.
Despite the pep talk, he still can’t come up with an appropriate response to Seungmin’s unconvinced tone - so he just turns to his phone silently. He opens and closes apps randomly, more so trying not to count the number of times he’s barged into Seungmin’s room this tour with meals and snacks. Thankfully, Seungmin has dropped it quickly, and Minho is spared from hearing a rendition of the “Hyung likes me~” song today.
Eventually they call over Felix and Jisung to play Mario Party, through which Seungmin’s finally wakes up enough to start bickering back at Minho’s jabs at his gameplay.
“Why are we always on the same team,” Minho complains, standing in front of the TV with the three of them.
“They put me with the worst player to make it balanced.” Seungmin says seriously.
“You literally drowned within 3 seconds of the last game.”
“You don’t even know how to swim in real life.”
Enough. Minho places the controller down and tackles Seungmin onto the bed behind them. Seungmin’s lean body goes down easily as he yelps.
“Why do you say these things when you know I box?” Minho says incredulously, pinning his arms down, knees on either side of his body. Meanwhile, Jisung and Felix are focused on how Jisung has to roll a 10 to buy the next star and take the lead. Minho is in the direct line of Seungmin’s brightness, the warmth of him bleeding into his palms.
“Oh so scary,” Seungmin laughs easily, trying to wriggle from underneath him. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” he adds, a touch too confidently.
Minho presses his arms further into the bed, narrowing his eyes. Has he gotten less intimidating? He’ll have to get meaner, especially before Hyunjin and the others follow suit. That would be a disaster. Somewhere, farther back in his mind, warning bells ring that Seungmin is referencing something else entirely.
“Yah! Save your energy!” Felix says, eyes not moving from the screen.
Minho roughly ruffles the younger boy’s hair before rolling off. It’s his way of getting the last word. It’s also an excuse to touch him.
Minho finds himself looking for these kinds of reasons often. Minho can’t touch just because he wants to, it has to be in retaliation. He can’t come into Seungmin’s space idly, it has to be after chapters of internal plot, one that he can spit out in case anyone calls him out for being sweet.
While Seungmin sits up, trying to smooth it back down, Minho can’t help but watch from where he’s lying on the bed. His heart is beating stupidly fast, as it always does the times Minho has a good enough excuse to be that close. His eyes drop down to his mouth, pink like his cheeks from breathing hard.
A beat later, Seungmin turns to catch his gaze. Minho jerks his head away abruptly and starts yelling, asking where the fuck his controller is. He pretends not to notice Seungmin smiling victoriously on the bed, like he wasn’t the one knocked over and caged.
-
Hours later, they’re killing time in the waiting room, doing things half out of boredom, half to dispel the nervous energy that settles over the whole group before a show. Minho is lying on a couch after doing 20 pushups with Jisung. Changbin and Chan are still going. Everyone else is crowded around the Switch.
Minho has his phone out, YouTube video playing, but in reality he’s looking past it to watch Felix try to catch a legendary. Jisung is making loud noises every time the ultra ball breaks open and Giratina flies out. Seungmin is focused on the screen too, smiling softly in a Maniac hoodie 3 sizes too big. Minho’s gaze travels down, noticing how the bottom hits only a few inches above his knees. Minho can’t help himself from thinking it this time. Cute.
Seungmin being disgustingly adorable in this outfit (it’s the outfit) is what stops Minho from shouting when he moves closer to the TV and blocks Minho’s angle completely. Eventually, Felix catches his Pokemon, and they all erupt into cheers. And Minho might be a little delighted at it all too.
“Good job,” Seungmin says in English, smiling with all his teeth.
“Its level is so much higher than anything else on my team,” Felix says, scrolling through the stats.
Seungmin nods, turning to walk away when he sees Minho looking over at them.
And somehow he grins wider, looking even more happy.
Minho’s heart leaps, and he knows for sure he’s fucked.
“Lee know hyung~, Lee know hyung~,” Seungmin sing-songs. He basically looks like he’s waddling in the oversized hoodie as he approaches the couch.
Minho shifts his expression to menacing.
Seungmin doesn’t falter, only getting closer.
“Can I sit here?” Seungmin asks, looking down at his hyung whose legs are stretched all the way to the other side of the couch.
“No,” Minho deadpans.
“Ok.” Seungmin plops himself onto Minho’s thighs.
Minho lets out a small oof of protest at the weight even though his stomach is already fluttering at the contact.
“You have to stop pretending to be scary,” Seungmin says, looking at Minho like he has him all figured out. Their faces are about a foot away but Minho feels like Seungmin can still see the minute twitch of his lip.
“You’ll realize I’m not pretending soon,” Minho tries, even though it lacks the venom he was hoping for.
“I know hyung likes me,” Seungmin says casually while Minho lets out a sharp exhale.
Before he can say anything, Seungmin gets only bolder, snaking his arms out to poke Minho’s chest. He tilts his face closer, enough so that Minho can tell his eyes are glinting.
“I know hyung cares.”
It’s not necessarily what Minho was expecting to hear, but it still lodges all the quips he could make in his throat.
Whole seconds seem to pass by before Minho gets something out, something that can stop this conversation before it gets out of control, something that will remove Seungmin’s sweater paws from his chest that he’s made no effort to shake off himself.
“Of course, you losers need me and Chan.”
Seungmin’s face breaks out into a laugh at that, and Minho almost takes a breath of relief thinking he’s gotten out of this dire situation.
“Yeah but Minho-hyung wants me.” Seungmin declares, now toying with the neckline of Minho’s shirt.
Minho tries not to choke on his own spit.
“I think the fake divorce shit is getting to your head.”
Even though Minho’s face is definitely red, Seungmin’s now looking at him with genuine confusion, as if he might have gotten this whole thing wrong.
“Get off,” Minho manages, pushing his legs up so Seungmin will slide off. Seungmin complies, still looking too much like a lost puppy. Minho rises up quickly, mumbling about how they need to get changed now.
-
The concert goes by smoothly, and Minho is so focused on dancing and sharpness and keeping his voice stable and Japanese, he barely thinks about what had unfolded in the waiting room prior. He only finds himself replaying the whole scene in his head towards the end, a part of him wishing he had placed his hands on top of Seungmin’s and twisted their fingers together.
Ugh.
The regret is only fueled more when he finds himself at the end of the extended stage, confetti sprinkling through the air. Last show, Seungmin had run from the main stage, all the way to him, and took his hand as if it were the most important thing for him to do in that moment. Minho had forced himself not to react to how adorable it was. He only looked over to Seungmin with what he imagined to be a tiny amount of fondness. Because Seungmin was shining with sweat and something else entirely, maybe a halo only Minho could see. He held his hand tightly and gently at the same time, all while widely waving at the crowd with his mic hand.
Hours after that concert, Felix had sent him a fan video of how Seungmin had urgently barreled down the stage towards him. Minho may have replayed it a ridiculous amount of times. And saved it to his Instagram collection for cute animals.
-
When they get back to the hotel tonight, Minho washes the day off of him and settles into bed with take-out. He’s tired, especially after squeezing in a work out after the show – but grateful for a new episode of Spy x Family.
He’s about to hit play when there’s a knock on the door. Assuming it’s Changbin returning his charger, he goes to open it without a second thought.
As luck would have it, it is not Changbin, but Seungmin in plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. The awkwardness of feeling way too seen earlier washes over Minho again.
“Hi. Can I come in?” At the very least, Seungmin seems fine.
Minho sidesteps slightly, allowing the younger boy to breeze past him inside.
“I didn’t realize you ordered food already,” Seungmin pouts, brows a little furrowed as he spots the take-out containers next to his laptop.
“Am I not allowed to do that alone anymore?”
Minho rolls his eyes for good measure, if only to feel like he has leverage over the situation. Feigning annoyance is one of the best ways to deal with the heart flips that seem to be happening more and more around Seungmin.
“No.”
“Okay, brat.”
“Can we talk about earlier?” Seungmin asks, turning around to look at him. He sounds nervous for the first time.
Minho gives him a weird look but nods, trying to pretend he has no idea what Seungmin is referencing. He walks over to one of the beds and Seungmin follows him to sit on the other one. Their knees are both in the thin aisle between the two beds, and with great effort Minho is careful to not knock them together.
“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Seungmin starts. He’s wringing and unwringing his fingers. Minho resists grabbing them.
“About what?” I wasn’t uncomfortable.” Minho is being somewhat honest at least.
“You know…when I accused you of liking me.”
Seungmin is looking focusedly at Minho, trying to read the micro expressions on his face, ones that he must have figured out pretty well if they’ve gotten this far.
And Minho feels bad, knowing that Seungmin isn’t dense with how Minho ends up acting around him. How he blushes way too easily when Seungmin grabs him from behind to sing in his ear. And never shakes him off. The veil of longing on his face whenever Seungmin catches his less than subtle gazes raking over him. He could keep faking ignorance, he could keep making Seungmin think what he’s seen is in head. Or he could toss him a bone and make this a little easier. For both of them.
“Give me your stupid paws,” Minho says.
Seungmin’s face lights up with surprise, but he still reaches his hands out, palms facing the ceiling.
Minho pleads internally that Seungmin can’t see the way his own are shaking when he flips them over and intertwines their fingers together. Minho stares at their hands, unable to make eye contact.
“So-,” Seungmin starts but Minho cuts him off.
“I’m not talking about this anymore tonight.” Minho’s gaze is settled on their fingers determinedly. Slowly, he brings one of Seungmin’s hands up his mouth and kisses his knuckle. He kisses his other hand too, just to make sure he’s being clear for once – even if he’s not ready for words.
When he finally looks up at the younger boy, he’s met with Seungmin looking off to the side, abrupt shyness matching Minho’s usual.
Minho allows himself to smile a little smugly at that. He goes to release their hands, but Seungmin grips them tighter when he feels Minho pulling away.
Seungmin’s turns his head to look at him now, quiet intensity in his eyes like Minho’s a complex melody he doesn’t want to mess up. He pushes their interlocked hands to either side of Minho’s thighs on the bed. He leans forward slightly, quietly giving Minho a chance to back out if he doesn’t want this.
But Minho does. A lot. And Seungmin is ready to have it, catching the almost imperceptible nod Minho gives him. Tightening their fingers, he leans fully in and presses a soft kiss to Minho’s mouth.
Minho’s eyelashes flutter close. After a moment, he kisses him back gently. Seungmin’s mouth is soft, easily opening more when Minho swipes his tongue against his lips.
Time feels unrushed, seconds passing by slow as syrup. After what feels like minutes, Minho finally breaks apart their hands this time for real and leans back.
“You’re not gonna ask to sit here again?” He muses, gesturing to his lap.
Seungmin smiles, looking a little wrecked and pink. “As long as you don’t find a reason to leave this time, hyung.”
“Shut up,” Minho says, pulling Seungmin roughly by the arms and into his lap. He muffles his soft laugh with a kiss. Or ten.