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Summary
“Oh come on, hyung,” Seungmin pesters, settling in a little too snug into Minho’s massage-chair, into Minho’s morning routine, like it's where he’s always belonged. “I’m just asking for research purposes, just so I know what to do.”
“To do what?” Minho knows resistance is futile, but he can’t help but retaliate regardless.
“Why of course, hyung. To become boyfriend material.”
Lee Minho is a professional. Or he would be, if Kim Seungmin didn't constantly make him want to punch brick-walls until his knuckles bleed.