Archive of Our Own

Minho stands frozen.

His breath hitches in his chest as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. The music abruptly cut out, leaving behind a suffocating silence enveloping the entire studio like a heavy, acrid fog. His lungs heave as if starved of oxygen, and he wonders if it is the oppressive stillness or just his own exhaustion that makes his head feel disconnected from his body.

A tense moment passes as he glares in the mirror, daring that version of himself to make a move. Across the studio, his phone vibrates with a familiar alarm pulling him out of his stupor. Minho curses his former self for having the foresight to set it, a reminder for present Minho to call it quits. He slumps over to his bag and deflates. God , he is so tired.

The floor is refreshingly cold. He could lie there forever if it weren’t so stiff, but his phone is still obnoxiously screaming at him from within the confines of his gym bag. With one more groan Minho reaches in and dismisses it.

Despite his fatigue, and if left unchecked, Minho could easily dance until the wee hours of the morning. A younger version of himself would've done just that. Unfortunately for older Minho, he is no longer a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, nineteen-year-old with infinite energy. Nope, he is now a twenty-six with joint pain and a required six hours of sleep in order to use grown-up manners and feed himself. Hence, the alarm.

Minho is not entirely sure how long he lays there but he is estimating anywhere between “long enough to be concerning” and “not quite long enough for autolysis to begin.” It’s certainly long enough for him to notice the incessant buzzing of the fluorescent lights that are slowly driving him mad. At some point, he even puts his earbuds in to block it out and drapes an arm over his eyes.

You should use you’re time more wisely.

Minho groans loudly trying to get the stupid voice in his head to shut up.

You already know the dances, why didn’t you work out instead?

“Shut up!”

Minho doesn’t normally talk to himself. Well, not around people that’s for sure, but when he’s around people his thoughts usually aren’t this loud.

If you worked out you’d be more attractive. Just dancing isn’t enough.

Minho hated it when he got in his own head like this. It’s not even like he fully believes these thoughts. He’s always preached about relaxing and not worrying about these things, about not comparing yourself to others and just being happy. As it turns out, saying and doing are two very different things.

Remember when you broke that chair at that shoot? Wasn’t that embarrassing? Everyone laughing at you…

“Kill yourself.”

That phrase wasn’t one Minho liked saying for obvious reasons. He wasn’t suicidal, he didn’t actually want anyone to die. It’s just… sometimes saying it was the only thing that would get his brain to shut the hell up. He’s not even sure why it helps. It’s like he’s telling that stupid thought to kill itself or something.

Minho was so absorbed in his head that he hadn’t even heard the door open or footsteps approaching (having his earbuds in probably didn’t help.)




“Are you dead?”

Something nudges at his side and Minho shoots up like a rocket tearing his earbuds out.

“Jesus! What the– Kim Seungmin!”

The perpetrator laughs and takes a few steps back in case Minho decides to retaliate. Luckily for him, his victim was too tired to chase.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Seugmin only laughs more causing Minho to groan and fall back to the floor. He closes his eyes again but leaves the earbuds out.

Deciding it safe enough, Seungmin stands over Minho and stares down at him with his hands clasped behind his back.

Minho opens one eye. “Can I help you?”

Seungmin shrugs and sits down at Minho’s head. “No, I just finished recording with Bang Chan Hyung. He told me to come make sure you didn’t fall asleep in here and that he’d give us a ride back to the dorms when he’s finished with Changbin Hyung.”

“Cool.” Minho sighs and goes back to his blissfully catatonic state.

Seungmin doesn’t leave. Doesn’t even stop staring.

“Must you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Stare at me.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes and shuffles around till he’s leaning up against the mirror.

“You’re weird.”

Seungmin scoffs. “Says the one with headphones in and no music.”

“Touche, but can’t you find someone else to bother?”

There’s a pregnant pause as Seungmin pretends to think. “Hmmm, no. I was thinking I’d bother you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Minho side-eyes him and groans. “Great, knock yourself out.”

“Hyuuuung,” Seungmin whines and kicks Minho’s shoulder. “We both know something’s wrong, you’re being stupid by bottling it up.”

Minho glares at the ceiling wondering which god he pissed off in a past life for them to stick him with Kim Seungmin of all people. Okay, Seungmin really wasn’t that bad. He was actually really great at listening and giving advice Minho is just being stubborn.

“It’s just stress about the comeback. Don’t worry about it.”

Seungmin doesn’t seem happy with that answer.

“I don’t care whatever it is just tell me so you can stop moping about it.”

Minho actually looks offended. “I am NOT ‘moping’ about anything.”

“Hyung, You’ve been in here every night for the past two weeks, we barely even see you at the dorms, even Innie asked about you.”

Okay fine, Minho might have been moping a bit. But it really is just stress about the comeback. He’s just been on edge lately and it feels like every time he sits still for too long he starts buzzing with the need to do something. Even if Minho did want to confide in Seungmin he wouldn’t know where to start.

It’s like…

Every single day is the same shit, every few months the same cycle, every year rinse and repeat. They barely get any breaks and when they do they try and cram as much stuff as they can into it that they don’t normally get to do. They can’t even enjoy them. Sometimes, Minho just thinks what even is the point of it all? Is he even happy or is he just used to it? It’s not even just about being an idol, Minho could have any other career in the world and it would all boil down to the same damn cycle.

All he can do to escape the feeling of monotony is to get better. Practice harder, work more, dance better, sing louder. Every day, be better. But sometimes, he’s just not.

“I’m just–” he groans. “I, ugh, I feel like-” Finding the words to express himself was always hard. That’s part of the reason why Minho had a hard time sharing his emotions. Even when he wants to how can he explain to others what he doesn’t even understand himself?

Seungmin doesn’t interrupt. He knows that pushing Minho too hard would only piss him off and make matters worse.

“I don’t know, sometimes I just obsess over the stupidest shit.”

Seungmin nods slowly. “What do you mean?”

“Like,” Minho brings his hands up to his face and presses into his eye sockets until he can see stars. “Little things bother me? Things that haven’t always been a problem.”

The boy next to him hums and looks up at the fluorescents. “I think I get what you mean. Like something seems perfect and then you take a good look at it and you can’t help but find something wrong.”

“Yes! And then you obsess over fixing it even if there’s not really anything to fix.”

Seungmin sighs. “So what’s got you all wound up this time?”

There’s another pause and Seungmin glances back down at Minho. His ears turn red and he tilts his head away from Seungmin.

“It’s ah…” his voice pitches up and it’s clear he’s embarrassed. “Just this one move.”

The corner of Seungmin’s lips turns up and he gives Minho a look of disbelief. “You are having issues with a move? ”

“Yeah…” Minho goes to cover his face in embarrassment.

“What about it?” Seungmin was honestly trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the confession.

“Just- like. It’s kinda… It looks bad when I do it?”

The eye-roll Seungmin gives is louder than any words he could have spoken.

“I just noticed today while we were practicing. Everyone else looks good. I mean, you’re all really cut so anything you do looks good, and Changbin is buff so it’s like… just wow. And I was looking at myself and I’m just like… really chubby I guess? Everything I do looks dumb because of it.”

Seungmin was shaking his head at this point. “I knew you were stupid Hyung, but I didn’t know you were this stupid.”

Minho doesn’t even deny it. “I know! But I can’t stop thinking about it now!”

Seungmin kicks him again earning himself a glare. “Aren't you always the one telling us not to think about stupid shit like that?”

“Yes, which is why it’s so bothersome because I know it’s stupid.”

They fall into another long silence and Minho is half-tempted to put his earbuds back in but then Seungmin interrupts by standing up and holding out a hand for Minho. Hesitantly, Minho takes it and pulls himself to his feet. Minho expected him to say something but he just headed for the door leaving Minho in the dust.

“Hurry up, I’m sure Channie Hyung is waiting.”


—

The ride home was weird. Minho and Seungmin sat in silence in the back the whole way home while Chan and Changbin bickered in the front seat over whether or not to stop for food. Changbin eventually won and they stopped at McDonalds. Minho at least got dinner out of the deal.

Not only was Minho feeling weird, but Seungmin kept giving him these odd looks. Like there was something he wanted to say. Minho wished he’d just spit it out already. It was making him anxious.

Eventually, they were crossing the threshold of the dorm and Minho was happy to finally (hopefully) relax a bit. The other two were already asleep and Seungmin didn’t seem like he was itching to shower so Minho took his time. He almost forgets about the weird atmosphere between them when he comes out of the bathroom only to find Seungmin making a mess of the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

Seungmin pops his head up from behind the counter. “I think you mean ‘what are we doing.’”

Minho shouldn’t have asked. “Nope,” he throws his hands up and turns around. “Whatever this is leave me out of it.”

“Hyung!” Seungmin grabs his arm. “Come on, you know you’re not going to sleep anyway. This will take half an hour, tops. Please.”

Minho glares. “What are you even making?”

Seungmin jumps in excitement apparently having taken Minho’s curiosity as a yes. “ We are making cookies. Now help me find a good mixing bowl.”

With a long, exaggerated, sigh Minho accepts his fate. “I thought Yongbokkie was the baker.”

“He is, but he makes chocolate chip cookies. We’re out of chocolate chips so we’re making peanut butter cookies.” That logic doesn’t track for Minho but it apparently works in Seungmin’s head.

Minho finds their big mixing bowl and places it on the counter for Seungmin. “I still don’t understand why we’re doing this.”

Seungmin shrugs. “I want cookies and if I let you go to bed you’re just going to keep thinking about stupid things so I thought this would be a win-win.”

Minho stares in shock for a second. Sometimes he really wonders what it’s like in Seungmin’s head. He was so observant and intuitive but his solutions for problems were so… odd. He somehow always knew what the members needed even if they didn’t know it themselves. Seungmin was right, he needed something to keep his brain distracted and although baking would have probably been one of the last things Minho would’ve thought to do it was perfect.

Seungmin tasked Minho with finding them a good recipe and then they split the work. Seungmin even cracked the fucking eggs for him because he knew how much Minho hated the feeling of the shells.

The entire time Minho couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky he was to have found someone like Seungmin. He was so genuine in everything he did and he was someone who truly cared about people.

When it came time to put the cookies in the oven Seungmin found them something to watch while they waited. It was some drama they’d both seen at least once but Minho didn’t mind.

“You know you could’ve gone to bed. I would’ve been fine.”

Seungmin peels his eyes off the TV and faces Minho from the other side of the couch. “I know,” he shrugs. “But then I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what you said and how you were probably awake staring at the ceiling too. At least this way we get cookies for staying up.” He shrugs.

Minho hadn’t thought about it like that. He sometimes forgets that he’s not alone in his obsessive weirdness, that other people probably have very similar experiences, and that they existed even when Minho wasn’t observing them. He thinks about that for a while and lets himself relax in the comfortable atmosphere.

When the timer on the oven eventually goes off Seungmin glances at Minho who’s since fallen victim to his exhaustion. He chuckles.

“More cookies for me then.”