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The evening air smelled faintly of rain, the kind that clung to your clothes long after you’d gone home. Seungmin kicked at the stand of his scooter, frowning when it didn't roll fast and feels off on the first try.
“You’re going to break it before you even ride it,” Minho said from a few steps away, arms folded, watching with quiet amusement.
“I’m not breaking it,” Seungmin shot back, kicking it one more annoyed nudge before it finally clicked into place. “It’s just…this thing is stupid.”
Minho hummed in disbelief. He stepped closer, close enough that Seungmin could feel the shift in the air, like something tightening. “Stop blaming the object.”
“You act like you know everything,” Seungmin muttered, but there was no real bite in it.
They stood there for a second, the streetlights flickering on one by one, casting soft halos over the empty road. Seungmin’s was a little scratched, a little loud. Minho was cleaner, he actually took care of his things.
“Race you to the bridge,” Minho said suddenly.
Seungmin blinked. “What?”
“The bridge,” Minho repeated, nodding down the road. “First one there wins.”
“And what does the winner get?” Seungmin asked, already reaching for his helmet.
Minho tilted his head, considering. For a moment, Seungmin thought he’d brush it off, make it nothing. But then Minho smiled.
“I’ll decide when I win.”
“Wow,” Seungmin scoffed, strapping his helmet on. “Confident.”
“Just being realistic.”
Seungmin rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his mouth. “Get ready to be disappointed, then.”
They mounted their scooters, rubber wheels nudging softly against the pavement. Then, the faint scrape of decks shifting and the distant hum of the city.
Seungmin rolled forward a little, testing the balance, one foot planted while the other rested on the deck. He pushed off once, lightly then stopped again, glancing sideways.
Minho was already steady, both hands relaxed on the handlebars, one foot propped up. “On three,” Minho said.
Seungmin narrowed his eyes. “If you cheat, I’m tripping you.”
Minho huffed a quiet laugh. “You’d have to catch me first.”
Seungmin scoffed, shifting his weight forward, foot poised against the ground. The road ahead stretched clean and slightly downhill toward the bridge, just enough to make speed matter.
“Three—”
Seungmin pushed off immediately.
The scooter rolled forward with a soft whirr of wheels against asphalt, and he kicked again, harder this time to build speed. The wind wasn’t loud, but it brushed past his ears, cool and steady.
Behind him, he heard it. Quick, rhythmic kicks.
Seungmin kicked again, faster now, the deck humming faintly beneath him. His leg burned almost instantly, but he ignored it, pushing harder, gaining momentum as the road dipped.
“Started early,” Minho called, voice closer than expected.
Seungmin risked a glance back and it’s a big mistake.
Minho was right there, barely a step behind, pushing off with smooth, efficient strides. No wasted movement. Of course.
“Still ahead,” Seungmin shot back, breath already uneven.
“For now.”
Minho gave one stronger push, then another and suddenly he was beside him.
The sound of both scooters blended into a soft, rapid rolling, punctuated by the sharp tap of shoes hitting pavement. Kick, glide. Kick, glide.
“—Wait, what?”
Seungmin blinked, thrown off completely. One second they were side by side, the next Minho had already gained a full scooter’s length like it was nothing.
“No—no,” Seungmin protested, immediately kicking harder to catch up. His foot hit the ground faster now, sharper, breaking his rhythm.
“How did you even—?!” Seungmin huffed, pushing harder, but now his movements felt messy, rushed. The wheels rattled slightly under him as he tried to force more speed out of it.
Minho finally spoke, voice carrying back easily. “If you keep your eyes ahead.”
“I did!!” Seungmin said as Minho smirked, “Ahh you sure do.”
“I just didn’t expect you to—” Seungmin cut himself off with an annoyed sound, kicking harder again. “Just slow down!”
Minho laughed—quiet, but unmistakable.
The bridge stretched closer, the slight downhill now working in Minho’s favor. He leaned into it effortlessly, barely needing to push anymore, letting momentum carry him forward.
Seungmin tried to match it, but he’d already lost the smooth rhythm. Every push felt heavier now, less efficient.
Still, he refused to give up.
“Get back here—!”
Minho didn’t.
By the time Seungmin reached the end of the bridge, Minho was already there, slowing just enough to turn his scooter sideways and stop cleanly.
Seungmin rolled up a second later, dragging his foot hard against the ground to brake.
“You—” he pointed at him, breath uneven, “you did that on purpose.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Did what?”
“That—” Seungmin gestured vaguely down the road, still catching his breath. “That… thing.”
“The thing where I won?”
Seungmin stared at him, still catching his breath. “…You’re actually unbelievable.”
Minho shrugged lightly. “You’re just slow.”
“Oh, shut up,” Seungmin shot back immediately, pushing his scooter forward a little just to have something to do. “You waited and then sped up out of nowhere. That’s not skill, that’s—cheap.”
“Cheap?” Minho echoed, one eyebrow lifting. “You started early.”
“That was strategy.”
“That was cheating.”
“And you still won,” Seungmin snapped, throwing his hands up. “So what does that say about you?”
“I’m better.”
Seungmin let out a sharp laugh, half annoyed, half disbelieving. “God, you’re insufferable.”
Minho didn’t argue this time and just watched him, eyes narrowing slightly, he was noticing something else entirely.
“…Hey.”
Seungmin frowned. “What?”
Minho tilted his head, squinting just a little. “Did you grip the handle too hard?”
“What? No, I—” Seungmin instinctively looked down at his hand still wrapped around the handlebar.
And that was all the opening Minho needed.
He stepped forward and snatched Seungmin’s hand right off the handle.
“Hey—what are you—”
Seungmin tried to pull back, but Minho’s grip wasn’t rough, just firm enough to stop him.
Minho turned his hand slightly, inspecting it like it was something that needed fixing. His thumb brushed over Seungmin’s palm once, then across his knuckles.
“You did,” Minho said, like it was obvious.
“I did not,” Seungmin shot back, though his voice lost a bit of its edge. “Let go.”
Minho ignored that.
“Your grip’s all tense,” he added, quieter now. “You’re wasting energy like that.”
Seungmin frowned, trying again but half-heartedly this time to pull his hand back. “It’s a scooter, not a marathon.”
“Still matters.”
Minho’s thumb traced over the same spot again, slower.
Seungmin didn’t pull away this time..
He just stood there, awkward all of a sudden, his other hand still loosely holding the handlebar while his brain tried and failed to catch up with what was happening.
“…You’re making it weird,” he muttered, not quite meeting Minho’s eyes.
Minho didn’t respond.
Instead, he adjusted Seungmin’s hand slightly, tilting it so the light hit it better. His fingers were warm. Steady. Careful in a way that didn’t match how casually he’d grabbed him in the first place.
Seungmin’s gaze flickered up.
Minho was focused completely, quietly focused on his hand.
That, somehow, made it worse.
“Minho,” Seungmin tried again, softer this time, “it’s really not that—”
Minho leaned in. It happened without warning.
No buildup. No comment. No smirk to signal anything was coming.
One second he was just there and the next, his lips pressed gently into the center of Seungmin’s palm.
Seungmin froze, completely.
This is definitely not something that could be brushed off as a joke or a reflex. It lingered just long enough to register fully, warm and deliberate against his skin.
Then Minho pulled back like nothing had happened.
He let go of Seungmin’s hand, the absence of contact just as noticeable as the touch had been.
“Okay,” Minho said, stepping back toward his scooter, tone calm, even. “Let’s go buy some lotion.”
Seungmin didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
His hand stayed suspended in the air for a second longer, fingers slightly curled, like his body hadn’t gotten the signal to reset yet.
“…What the fuck just happened?”
Minho had already turned his scooter around, nudging it into position with his foot. “You overgripped.”
Seungmin let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “That is not—” He dropped his hand finally, staring at him. “That is not the solution to overgripping!”
Minho glanced over his shoulder, expression completely neutral. “Your hand’s red.”
“That doesn’t mean you—” Seungmin cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair. “You kissed my palm.”
“Yes.”
“Like—just now!” Seungmin said frantically.
“Yes.” Minho calmly replied.
“In the middle of an argument!”
Minho considered that for a second. “Mm.”
Seungmin stared at him, incredulous. “And your takeaway from that is…we need lotion?”
“It’ll help.” Minho nodded.
“That’s not the part I’m concerned about!” Seungmin whined.
Minho finally turned to face him properly, one eyebrow lifting just slightly. “Then what are you concerned about?”
Seungmin opened his mouth.
Because suddenly, trying to explain it felt impossible.
It wasn’t just the kiss. It wasn’t just the way Minho had done it so casually, like it didn’t mean anything.
Seungmin pouted and looked down at his palm.
Still tingling faintly where Minho’s lips had been.
“…What are planning…,” he muttered finally, quieter now.
“Nothing. Really,” Minho said easily.
A brief silence settled between them, heavier than anything before it.
Seungmin flexed his fingers slightly, like he was testing if the feeling would go away.
It didn’t.
Minho nudged his scooter forward a little. “Come on.”
“We’re getting lotion,” Minho added, to settle everything.
“We still need to talk abou this,” Seungmin shot back, but there was no real heat behind it anymore. Just confusion and something else he didn’t want to name.
Minho just watched him for a second, shrugged his shoulders “Okay, You coming or not?”
Seungmin hesitated with a quiet exhale, he pushed off.
“I mean it.” he muttered, rolling up beside him.
Minho didn’t respond, just pushed forward, letting his scooter glide smoothly along the pavement, going towards the nearest convenience store.
Seungmin followed, matching pace without thinking.
Kick, glide. Kick, glide. The rhythm came back easier this time.
But every now and then, Seungmin’s fingers would shift slightly on the handlebar and he’d feel it again.
His grip would tighten before he forced himself to relax it.
“…You’re paying for the lotion,” he said after a while, as he quickly passed Minho.
Minho didn’t even look at him. “You wish.”