Chapter Text
"Hyeong!"
Minho knew he wasn't exactly a bodybuilder. A dancer's physique required different parts to be stable and able to carry a whole body than a strongman's, everybody knew that. With how much he bragged to Stay about ripping up his torso, he hated the actual act of doing reps at the gym. Not enough so that he would stop going and find something else to do — and going there had a couple of other benefits he didn't want to miss (like having people flirt with him after he'd forced himself through the ten reps he'd promised Chan to keep up) — but more than enough to have decided, getting the kind of body their leader or Changbin had built over the last couple of years, simply wasn't in his cards.
And maybe he also liked his lithe frame enough to not feel the need to jack up too much.
It also meant, however, that he struggled earlier with lifting bags more than his hyeong ever would. Which was why he was standing here now, at the doorstep to their fancy winter getaway cabin and struggled to get the bag with the frostables across the doorstep. After having dragged it to said door on one of the round plastic sleds Felix had insisted they'd bring. An act so utterly easy to pull off because of the snow, and the plastic offering up no resistance at all against the nearly iced-over surface of said snow underneath.
It looked a bit ridiculous now, like he had bitten off much more than he could chew, but when Chan had lifted the bag out of the trunk it had looked like an easy thing to do. And the bag itself was hardly any bigger than Han, whom he could lift very well, thank you very much.
Yet he also definitely didn't want to tear the straps by putting his whole weight into it and forcing the thing by the handles across the doorstep. "It's too heavy!" he called when the other's attentive hum reached him from the car down the path, his gloved hands still wrapped uselessly around one of the handles.
This vacation had been an idea they'd decided on together. After dropping two albums within three months of each other, winning a whole shelf full of awards for it — most importantly the Daesang they'd put into Chan's studio so they could always find motivation in it when the recording day dragged on and on and on — and getting acknowledged for their efforts with a still unbelievable amount of other accolades, they'd been more than ready for a break, and once he and Seungmin had finally been able to walk properly again, it had been a no-brainer to drive up into the mountains for a week or three.
He'd been made to promise he would still be careful with his ankle and not overexert himself trying to break a new record of how fast he could chase Hyunjin up and down a mountain range, and with the way Han had been doting on him these past weeks, he felt too weak to even just think about finding loopholes around that promise. Maybe he hated the attention and being taken care of so overtly and maybe his strong sense of independence had a lot to say about this, too, but he also didn’t want to make his members' days harder than they already were, trying to take care of a stubborn idiot like him. Even when he usually loved watching them squirm under his gaze, he loved them more, and he knew they loved him back just the same, and at the end of the day nagging them was only fun if they, too, laughed about it.
Chan reached the door with steady steps and the other big grocery bag easily carried in one arm, his grin wide and smug. “Will I have to carry you in, too?” Ah. Yeah. Right.
This whole vacation had been an idea they’d decided on together, but when he’d realized that he’d be alone with Chan for at least a day, in what was arguably the most romantic location to be at, this time of year, Minho nearly would’ve tried to convince them to move the travel dates a day back so they all could drive up here together.
Jisung had guessed it correctly on first try, somehow, weeks ago, even though Minho thought he had managed very well to hide it from everyone else. But, of course, if anyone would notice the first signs of a crush on him, it would be his ex. Dating someone for almost a year and moving in with them opened people up to one another, made them get used to each other and all of their tells and ticks. If the roles had been reversed, the dancer was sure he too would’ve immediately clocked those signs on Jisung.
Falling for Bang Chan was as embarrassing as it had been natural. Of course he would, it was Bang Chan, for fuck's sake. Anyone with eyes understood why the dancer couldn't keep same eyes off of him, and, worse yet, anyone with a heart would feel hard-pressed to not fall for someone so caring and protective and awkward and idiotic and unable to take a compliment.
It was like trying to not love a kitten.
A kitten that could benchpress him and carry him around when he was injured and acted like a dongsaeng around him, despite obviously being older. Which was infuriating to say the least, but in this stupidly endearing way he'd found himself more and more powerless against.
Their leader gently pushed past him through the door and had already reached the kitchen when Minho sort of came up with a comeback, so the reply ended up being to roll his eyes, huff uselessly and then start a last attempt to get the stupid bag into the cabin, before he gave up, took off his boots and hung up his jacket.
The cabin itself, Minho realized, relieved, was warm and welcoming. Spacious, too. Good, they'd need it, just like the four bedrooms with the two beds each. Letting his gaze wander the interior, he took note of the large, fluffy couch, the fireplace and the fur lying in front of it; everything else seemed picked out with care and a sense for aesthetic. Hyunjin would love it.
Steps returned from where the older had put the first bag down onto the kitchen isle, and Minho turned his head. Met Chan’s questioning eyes and shrugged. "I brought myself in, you take care of the bags." A smile, half-smirk on his lips and yet feigning simple rational thought. The older only huffed and went to retrieve the rest of the goods while Minho himself wandered around a little. A hallway went off from the open living space, clearly leading to the bedrooms and the two bathrooms the park's website had advertised. The front door clicked shut.
Just as he was about to try the first doorknob, he heard Chan set down the other bag in the kitchen, and he couldn't help trying to catch a glimpse at arms he hoped were, by now, freed from at least the jacket, but he didn't seem to be that lucky just yet. Slowly, he tip-tapped into the kitchen on socked feet, initially only wanting to watch Chan unload the bags from the side, maybe lean against the counter. Yet, then, he heard the sigh, heavy and tired and instead came up from behind the other, resting his chin on the shoulder of his jacket.
Minho snorted, glancing into the bag. "I told you, you shouldn’t have sent Jisungie to buy groceries again, especially not without my supervision." His ankle hadn't been healed up yet at that point, but clearly he should've made an exception. "Or yours." The laugh sort-of bubbled up in the back of his throat but didn't spill yet. "Well, I'm sure we can take the leftovers home."
Only then did he properly register how close he'd stepped to the other and when Chan turned his head — to answer or to just look at him a bit strangely, he didn't know in the moment — Minho froze for a second, meeting his dark hazel eyes and blanking on something intelligent to say.
No. Nope. Too close.
He felt his gaze dip to the man's lips, a spark crash directly into his chest, then he looked away and was stepping away, too, bringing distance between them while the laugh finally spilled over, sounding way too nervous to his ears to be a normal reaction. "Come, take off the jacket and then, let's get these into the fridge and freezer." Before he'd think of something even dumber to do.
“Yeah okay. At least there’s no chance we’ll starve.” Chan turned to finally shed that damned jacket, and Minho patted himself on the shoulder for not having had his brain malfunction too badly. The fact that he was able to save himself at all, and act so nonchalant about it, was only thanks to his experiences dating Jisung and tip-toeing the thin line between fully confessing and keeping it vague enough for staff to leave them be and only sometimes tell them to tone it down. So, he’d learned how to save these kinds of situations, mostly successfully, too, and keep his true feelings under wraps if he needed to. If he and Han hadn't told the members about their relationship being real, they too would've never found out, because—
Minho turned his head when his company stepped past him, jacket noises filling the air, and froze at the sight.
No step that Chan then took towards the hallway to hang up said jacket, he took alone. Minho's eyes, unwillingly so, were glued to his broad shoulders and wide arms, now free of cold-proof layers — and he had to remind himself to close his mouth and swallow the saliva. Oh god. They had been here all of five minutes but he already knew that this was going to be a long week and a half.
Instead of spiraling, he busied himself with the groceries, neatly piling the packages of meat onto the counter and setting the bottles next to them. Reaching for a package of uncooked rice, he paused. Then frowned. Tilted his head.
A purple box, half-hidden between other food-related groceries — and it took him about two seconds to read and then recognize the brand name. Something hot plummeted into his stomach.
It had been a cold spring day, Minho remembered it vividly. He'd come home to their apartment, aching to get into a hot bath after a solo photoshoot and working out at the gym. Han had been waiting for him with a mug of tea (to calm himself down, he'd figured later), pulled taut like a spring and the most beautifully shy sparkle hung into his eyes like a star. Minho had stared at his boyfriend, silently asking him what was going on. They hadn't taken the next step yet, back then, still dancing around each other despite the attraction running hot in his veins every time he looked at Han (and Han feeling very similarly as he had told him later).
There had been a whole speech prepared, Jisung had confessed, but the moment he'd seen Minho, every single word had left him. So, instead of it, he'd simply plopped the box of condoms onto the table and then held his gaze, deep blush on his cute, round cheeks and lust in his eyes.
It had broken the ice, even if someone else may have found it awkward. Minho had loved it.
And now the exact same brand of condoms was staring back at him from the depths of the bag. Nudging him to try the exact same thing on Chan.
Minho wanted to murder Jisung.
He knew he wouldn't, but maybe he should've taken the glint in the man's eyes, when he'd left the apartment to go grocery shopping for this trip, as a warning sign.
Okay. Easy. He'd just let them vanish into his bag — and maybe feed them to Jisung instead of a box of tissues — and Chan would never know of it, ever. He could not. As much as he appreciated Han's help — not that he would ever tell him that — this was leagues too bold for a man like Minho. Yes, maybe he was flirty, maybe he smacked his member's butts like it was a sport, and maybe he sometimes let things slip in conversations on variety shows that definitely weren't innocent in their implications, but that didn't mean he'd simply show Chan the box of condoms Jisung had bought for them in his... truly endless generosity and insatiable need to make Minho blush.
Which, actually, was not an easy feat to accomplish, he liked to think, so of course Han had to and would work hard to make his ears turn red.
But...this was important to Minho. Chan and he had been best friends for a long time, and for most of that time he had only had eyes for Jisung. Feeling like his heart was doing somersaults every time his hyeong looked at him was a recent development, but that didn't mean it was any less serious to him. And anything bold like this was not going to make Chan take him seriously. It'd be cringey and nothing else.
Not, that he seriously planned on making a move. Minho was convinced that Chan wasn’t and wouldn’t ever be into him. He’d been lucky with Jisung and he knew that Hyunjin wasn’t straight, either, but something about Bang Chan’s whole being made it impossible for him to figure out what exactly was going on with him. One minute he was calling himself daddy — and then folded in on himself at the implications — the other he was writing and shooting Red Lights with Hyunjin as if there was even just a note of this song that didn’t scream queer. Married to his work, devoted to the kids, and Stay’s boyfriend — it felt equally likely to Minho that Chan may be asexual as it did that he was a raging bisexual or painfully straight. And he didn’t know how to figure out which it was. So, the safe option was to assume latter and work on moving on from his stupid crush.
Behind him, he heard footsteps approaching, causing a cuss to leave his lips and him to hide the package behind his back as he turned around with his best attempt at an innocent expression on his face.
“Everything alright?”
"Mh-hm." He nodded for better effect, then slowly started to slide himself along the counter, towards the bedrooms. Chan was asking him what he was hiding behind his back but Minho just raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "Nothing?"
His hyeong, of course, was not so easily dissuaded, something the dancer felt like he should've expected and had not.
God, he could feel his ears heat up.
The older instantly closed in, playfully trapping him against the counter like the wolf he was so often compared to. And Minho thought of trying to run regardless, but couldn't. Didn't want to. Which, later, he'd sink into the floor because of, cringing and wishing their leader wasn't able to somehow turn Minho's brain off like flipping a switch, and wishing he wouldn't turn into a 10 years old schoolgirl whenever Chan did.
"What do you got there?" he asked, playing up the cuteness and lingering on the last syllable. Minho's hand clenched harder around the carton.
"It's nothing, Jisung was just being an idiot and a menace like he usually is."
Silence. An even cuter smile snuck itself onto Chan's face, prompting him again to just show him — and something broke inside of Minho's brain.
Slowly, he pulled the box to the front. "They're not for us, obviously." Obviously. His brain was stumbling over itself to keep control of this situation. He couldn't have his crush even just imagining them together. The fear of rejection, no matter how soft Chan would make the blow, was too great for Minho to allow that to happen.
A beat.
"They're for– Binnie and Hyunjinnie."
Yes. Definitely. Great idea.
He wanted to hit himself.
The moment the names had left his lips, Minho already regretted having said anything. They weren't a couple, they weren't even on the way there, he was sure of that. Chan would be even more confused when that would come out, and Binne and Hyunjinnie were going to chew him out for it or at least ask what the hell was fucking wrong with him to just put that thought into anyone's head. As fan service, sure, but not here, where they were alone, away from cameras and fans and the company. Where they appreciated each other's honesty about these things. Where they could tell the others about any relationship without the worry of it getting out.
To just state something like that as fact, when it wasn't even true, was just. Not great.
“Wait. I didn’t know Hyunjin and Changbin were together. When did they tell you?”
He regretted it even more when he saw Chan's face fall. Ah, damn. His own pretend-smile slowly dimmed as well. Their leader had been so happy for Jisung and him back when, at least after the initial surprise — to see him like this now was nothing but painful.
“Nevermind. I’m glad they’re being safe, at least.”
The other was retreating, like always when he was upset and lost in his own head, focusing back on the bag, and Minho, after a second of panicked screeching echoing through his skull, very convincingly — in his opinion — gave: "Oh, no, they're not ... yet together. But they've been flirting with each other and Jisungie wants to give them a push, you know?"
He placed the box on the counter and stepped closer, but didn't touch him this time. Still too shaken from the moment they'd stumbled into just then and too respectful of the man's feelings of hurt he could see on him clear as day. "Hyeong, of course they'd tell you. Don't be stupid, they love you as their older brother. And their leader. They'd never not trust you."
When Jisung would show up tomorrow, he'd be in for a lot of trouble, mostly because this was so embarrassing for Minho, but also because he'd have to help him fix this rumour before it hurt even more people.
Of course, in the pit of his heart, Minho knew Jisung was right. He should be at least trying to win Channie's heart. If their leader wasn't interested, fine, but if he was, they were both wasting time by dancing around each other like this.
Just that it wasn't that easy. Every time Minho had thought of telling his hyeong that he'd developed the most embarrassing crush in history on him, the possibility of rejection had made him unable to act. He damn well knew that Chan wouldn't ever be mean about it, he wouldn't laugh at him and he wouldn't treat him like dirt after. Not even Seungmin would, no matter how much they joked about how evil the singer pretended to be at times.
But maybe that was the issue exactly. It wouldn't give him closure.
It sounded weird, stupid, almost, to say he wanted Chan to be very shocked and then very harsh about shutting him down, but Minho feared, that, if he wasn't, his heart wouldn't shut up about it. He wasn't fragile and sensitive like Jisungie — though he too had gotten a lot better with therapy and meds — he wouldn't break at the rejection. Yet he didn't think Chan knew that. Or maybe he was aware of it — because, obviously Minho didn't act like he got upset easily, because he didn't — but when it came down to it their leader was still their leader. And the times where he had to be harsh with them because otherwise, they wouldn't debut, were long over. So, Minho had very vividly pictured how that conversation would go and had then decided to just not have it. This was better. The not-knowing was better.
"I think he's a bit stupid for it, but he means well. Jisungie, I mean." Minho pulled the other bag closer and started emptying it out as well, right next to the other. "I think in his need to be loved, he always tries to make sure everyone else feels loved as well. This is just one of the things he'd do for it." He would know, he'd dated the man for the better portion of a year.
Doubt lingered on Chan’s face, but only for a couple more moments, then a sigh left him and he nodded, a small smile flickering back alive on his lips. Yes. Much better.
That disaster averted last second, they finished unpacking and went to drop their bags off in one of the bedrooms. A thought crossed Minho’s mind initially, urging him to sleep elsewhere, but he just rolled his eyes at that voice and ignored it. How stupid would it have looked to move his bag to the other side of the cabin, just to not share a space with his crush? His crush, who obviously didn’t know he was his crush? No. No, he would suck it up for a night, and then maybe move into Jisung’s room or something.
The rest of the day they spent checking out the rest of the rooms independently from each other, Minho stopping in the bathroom that was entirely covered in wooden paneling, held a wide whirlpool and opened to the yard. Floor-length windows that separated the room from said yard were letting in the winter sun, and Minho tip-tapped past the pool to open one of them. The winter air immediately engulfed him and for just that moment, he closed his eyes and let it.
He needed to relax. That’s what they had come here for, after all. Weeks, months, on end he’d managed to ignore these warm, lovey-dovey feelings for Chan, he could pretend here, too. Could ignore it. Talk them through with Jisung and hope to be able to move on from them. It was better that way.
With the window closed again after a minute or so, he smiled to himself, imagining how the kids would love doing a snow ball fight in that yard and immediately after sink into the hot water of the pool. He knew he himself was aching for a hot bath.
Hours later, the bedding wrapped around him all thick and fluffy and kept the warmth trapped under it. The pillow had his head sink into the soft fabric. And yet.
Perhaps he should've known, or been able to figure, but it was terribly quiet up here. No traffic noises, no nightly cat adventures, not even Han moving around the apartment in the search for sparks of muse. It was as if they'd crossed through the membrane of a bubble of silence when reaching the village of cabins in the mountains. What most would've sought out in a vacation home — including himself, really — somehow kept Minho from sleeping.
He was hoping to be out before Chan would join him — because that was somehow better, not having to watch him fall asleep — but he mostly just tossed and turned for about half an hour or so before the silence chased him out of the room again. He found Chan on the terrace, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a patio chair, staring into the night sky, and before he opened the door to tell him to go to sleep, he watched him. Wondered what he was thinking about and hoped, just for a second, that it was him. Them. Despite himself.
When Chan had returned to the bedroom, Minho had still lay there, awake, but judging from how the other had simply and quietly crawled under the blanket and rolled away from him, he figured he had at least looked as if he was fast asleep. Maybe that was better. Maybe him hoping to kiss Chan under the winter stars was better to be left to his dreams. Maybe—