Chapter Text
1.
Minseok appears in the building looking like he just rolled out of bed—pillow marks still faintly etched across his cheek, hair sticking up in directions that defy both gravity and good sense. Of course he has already showered; he is not an animal. But brushing his hair today had apparently been a battle he chose not to fight, surrendering instead to the overwhelming wave of laziness that has engulfed him since the moment he opened his eyes. Anyway.
"Don't be offended if a bird suddenly decides to land on your head, Minseok-ah," Hyeonjoon offers as his chosen morning greeting, his voice dripping with the kind of affectionate teasing that only a close hyung can get away with.
"You are so kind to me, hyung," Minseok replies flatly, though the corners of his mouth twitch with suppressed amusement.
"You know me," Hyeonjoon shrugs, a sly grin spreading across his face.
Today, the team has decided that a meeting is the best way to ease into the day before breakfast—please do not mistake this for sarcasm, even though that is precisely what Minseok is feeling right now. It is not a formal affair by any means; just a casual gathering in the common room, where that familiar black couch has somehow become the most coveted throne in the entire building. The place where strategies are formed, laughter is shared, and now, apparently, where Minseok's personal crisis will unfold.
Minseok settles into the middle seat, wedged comfortably—or perhaps uncomfortably—between Sanghyeok and Suhwan. This is unusual, because normally he would gravitate toward the spot next to Hyeonjoon, seeking the familiar comfort of his hyung's presence. But today, for reasons he cannot quite articulate, he ended up here. The couch is perfectly sized for three people, which means there is absolutely no excess space. Their shoulders brush. Their thighs are a whisper apart. It is fine. Everything is fine.
And then—his hand accidentally grazes against Suhwan's.
A jolt shoots through his entire body, electric and immediate, like lightning striking the surface of still water. His mind goes blank for a single, terrifying second. What is this? What is happening to him?
Hyung looks so cute today. With his messy hair and that sleepy expression... I hope that if I choose to stay by his side all day, it does not make me seem like some kind of weirdo.
Minseok glances to his right, then to his left. Coach is still in the middle of his explanation, gesturing at the screen with animated enthusiasm. Sanghyeok, ever the professional, is completely focused, nodding along with measured attention. And Suhwan—Suhwan is staring straight ahead with an almost unnerving stillness, his expression unreadable. Where did that voice come from? Was it in his head? No, it felt too distinct, too clear. Like someone had whispered directly into his ear.
His hair is still such a mess. If I suddenly reached over and fixed it for him, would he run away? Or would I just become that creepy person everyone avoids...
Minseok blinks rapidly. Wait. Is he experiencing sleep paralysis right now? In the middle of a team meeting? But no—his body is moving perfectly fine, his breath is steady and rhythmic, and it is morning and he is absolutely, definitely NOT asleep. What is going on with him?
His gaze drifts downward to his left hand, still resting against Suhwan's. Oh? Carefully, cautiously, he tries to pull away—just a tiny movement, subtle enough not to arouse suspicion. He shifts his hand an inch, then another. Okay. The voice in his head has gone silent. He releases a quiet breath he did not realize he had been holding.
And then, as if possessed by some foolish, reckless impulse, he deliberately—accidentally-on-purpose—lets his hand drift back until it is pressing softly against Suhwan's again.
Oh god. Our hands are touching again. I want to hold it so badly, but if I do, I will definitely not be able to show my face around here tomorrow. Hold yourself together, Kim Suhwan. Control yourself.
Minseok's hand jerks away as if burned, snapping up to curl into a tight fist on his own thigh. His heart is racing. His palms are sweating. Oh god. Oh god. This is really happening. This is truly, undeniably happening. And he has absolutely no idea what to do about it.