Archive of Our Own

ONE

Synthesis of Complex Molecules: Retrosynthetic Analysis

Seungmin wanted to cry. Real, cardinal, salty tears.

He had liked science as a kid; Was good at it, even. It was enjoyable enough that he could maintain interest in classes to perform well, and then he realised it could make a pretty secure profession if he stuck at it. Biology had too much complex vocabulary to learn, and Physics was too mathematical, so Chemistry it was. He quite liked the comical idea of mixing liquids in a tube and watching them change color. He had seen what Chemistry did for Walter White and wondered what he could muster up if he really put his mind to it.

And now that he’s well into the semester, a small dose of hard drugs wouldn't be so awful right now.

Okay, he’s being dramatic–But also not really, because he’s spent more time in class with his head in his hands than with pen to paper and Changbin, his only friend in class, keeps coming out with Chemistry related buzzwords that Seungmin is sure he’s making up to get on his nerves. It’s either that or Seungmin is incredibly behind and probably lowering the class average significantly, which is a reality he chooses to not face.

Sitting in his dorm room attempting to do this assignment was clearly a bad idea; He kept leaving his desk to open the fridge in search of a snack when he knew very well he and Jeongin haven’t gone grocery shopping in two weeks, and the dark shadows of his room only served as a persistent metaphor for the dark, desolate shadows that made up his mind at the moment. Barren and empty. Specifically of any knowledge regarding organic chemistry.

So he did himself and the fridge a favour and hauled himself to the nearest cafe in the city.

It was a relatively lively one he found himself at, tucking himself in the corner booth with the WiFi password in sight and the sun shining through the large window beside the table. He wasn’t really keen to waste his time ordering something to eat or drink just yet, so he cracked open his laptop with a shaky exhale and dove into the work at hand.

And he ignored the prominent stinging in the corners of his eyes. 

The next couple of hours which he spent clicking away at his keyboard, eyes drying out due to staring at the white document and fingers cramping painfully, he increasingly wished more and more he had dropped out when he first considered a career in baseball.

With a sinking chest, Seungmin realises he’s going to need to text Changbin for help sooner or later. It’s not shameful–Changbin is really smart, he’s great with numbers and concepts and is super helpful in classes and lectures–it’s more of a pride thing. Every time he goes to Changbin for help he feels like he’s losing more and more of his right to be in the class. Like he doesn’t deserve his position if he isn't going to work for it himself. 

Changbin has stated multiple times that he doesn't mind going over topics with him, so Seungmin knows he shouldn’t feel too bad about it. But Changbin would also watch your dog piss on his leg and tell you it’s completely okay–and your dog is so cute by the way, very sweet–, so Seungmin tries not to take advantage of his excessive kindness.

The only thing that manages to draw Seungmin out of his marathon length, study induced misery is the sound of the leather booth across the table creaking under foreign weight. He glances up from his laptop screen for the first time in far too long.

“Seungminnie, funny seeing you here.” Jisung smiles as he slides into the booth, a genuine beam that showcases the gums of his teeth charmingly. Following behind, Minho suavely slips in beside him without any announcement.

Seungmin blinks, registering the sudden human interaction and swiftly devising a response. 

“Jisung, Minho, I didn't even realise you were here.” He states honestly. Had he been so invested in his work that he hadn't noticed his two friends enter the cafe? This has never happened before. He’s never studied this efficiently.

…Maybe Changbin won’t be receiving a call tonight afterall.

Minho raised a brow. “Wow. Are we that unimportant to you?”

Jisung laughed sharply, attempting to make the harsh slap on Minho’s thigh under the table go unnoticed. Seungmin saw it. “We’ve been here for five seconds and you already want to pick a fight?”

Seungmin pouted in faux innocence, tilting his head at the offender. “Yeah. Why are you always trying to start fights with me? At least Jisungie acknowledged me when he sat down.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “I did acknowledge you. I gave you a nod.”

“I didn't see any nod.”

“Because you had your eyes glued to the laptop like a kid with too much screen time. What are you working on, anyway?”

Seungmin deflated at the reminder of his dreaded assignment. “Something for my class. You guys familiar with retrosynthetic analysis?”

Jisung cringed, his nose scrunching in distaste. “Can’t say I am. Sorry, but that sounds awful.”

“It definitely is,” Seungmin agreed with a sad sigh. Somewhere near the counter, Minho’s name is called, and the man slips dutily out of the booth.

“What are you guys doing out?” Seungmin asks, closing his laptop for the time being. He’s grateful for the break Jisung and Minho unknowingly offer, because he knows any more time spent on that damned assignment is more time leading to his insanity. Jisung brightens in his seat, cheeks rounding around his smile. It’s the type of smile that wills your own lips to curve upwards, a strange, endorphin effect Jisung seems to disperse just by showing his teeth.

“We didn't have any specific plans, just hanging out! How long are you going to study for?”

Seungmin hums, something soft and quiet. He would never, ever admit it out loud, for the fear of his own shameful afflictions being brought to light scares him more than he could imagine, but something nestled deep inside of him whispers painfully just how jealous he is of the bond between Minho and Jisung.

Seungmin couldn’t imagine asking anybody to just hang out. On a whim. With no plan. His mind will never be settled enough to enjoy that casualness with even his closest of friends. 

To have someone you can simply… exist beside, with no expectations or promises to keep sounds so far away from Seungmin’s capabilities that he can barely comprehend the notion.

Of course, it makes complete sense. Afterall, Minho and Jisung have been dating for over a year now. There’s no doubt they have the comfort and ease to be with each other so easily.

“A little while longer,” Seungmin answers, shoving that ugly feeling deep down where sunlight may never reach it. It’s not Minho or Jisung’s fault he’s such a lonely person. “I have a word count I need to meet.”

Jisung frowns. “Ah, really? I thought maybe you could join us this afternoon.” The offer pleasantly surprises Seungmin, whose ears perk up at the kind gesture, despite himself. 

“We could go to the bookstore. I know you want to buy the new edition to that series you like, right?”

Jisung is right, Seungmin has been trying to find a valid excuse to travel across the city to the only bookstore in the area for weeks now. Seungmin is surprised he even remembers the statement Seungmin had offhandedly made between fluttering conversation, for the only person he really raved about when it came to his books was Chan.

However, as much as Seungmin would love to leave his laptop in the depths of his bag and skip to the bookstore with the lovely company of both Jisung and Minho, this task was worth twenty percent of his grade. And he was not taking any chances.

“I would…” Seungmin begins, his lips tugging downwards apologetically, “but I really have to finish this.”

Jisung pouted glumly, brows furrowed deeply in disappointment. His mouth opens to interject, but Minho slides back into the booth beside him with drinks in both of his hands. He skims one to Jisung; A tall cup of undoubtedly sugary coffee with a mountain of whipped cream rising from it’s rim and a drizzle of caramel syrup glazed over. An incredibly sweet drink for an incredibly sweet boy, Seungmin silently notes.

And then Minho is pushing a drink towards him. A clear, plastic cup filled with a transparent dark liquid and a generous serving of ice. A familiar delicacy that Seungmin has already seen today in the earlier hours of the morning.

He raises a brow at the man across from him. “What’s this?”

“An iced americano.”

“I know what it is. I meant why is it in front of me?”

Minho rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh, another familiar sight Seungmin has already seen today. One day, Minho will find himself very unlucky and get his eyes stuck back there.

“It’s for you, idiot.”

“Oh,” Seungmin glances down at the drink, his cheeks blooming with muted color. “You didn't need to do that.”

“You looked like you were going to fall asleep headfirst into your keyboard.” Minho comments, something that Seungmin really can't deny. He’s been haunting this corner of the cafe for too many hours now, he’s sure the workers here have been viciously avoiding the dark energy that emits from his booth.

“How much was it? I’ll pay you back,” Seungmin reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, which is probably barren and very sad looking. But he hates to think Minho has just wasted nine dollars on an iced americano just for Seungmin, all because he looked a little pathetic and definitely ran down.

Without warning, a shoe jams into his leg underneath the table, causing him to yelp in pain. His head whips towards Jisung with a defensive expression, mouth open in flabbergast. “Hey! What the hell?”

Jisung sits there innocently, sipping loudly on his diabetic coffee through a striped straw. The only give away of the assault he just committed is the irritated narrowness of his eyes.

“Don’t pay him back. You don’t need to do that.” He insists, much to Seungmin’s dismay.

“But… it was probably expensive.”

“You’re worth the expense,” Jisung disregards instantly, and then shakes his head, “Besides, it’s only a coffee.” And then returns to sipping obnoxiously on his drink.

Now suddenly unable to look the couple in the eye, Seungmin returns his gaze to his drink. You’re worth the expense. That was a statement nobody has ever made about Seungmin before. It was incredibly generous, maybe even charitable. Oddly enough, the entire ordeal has left a strange fluttering sensation in his stomach. Seungmin swallows greatly in an attempt to force down the breezy feeling emerging. He reminds himself of the more sensible part to Jisung’s words, ‘It’s only a coffee.’ It’s only a coffee. It shouldn't ignite such gratitude within him. Although he supposes coffee is really expensive, and his other friends–cough, Jeongin, for example–would never buy him a drink out of their own pocket. This was an incredibly normal reaction to such a gesture in today’s economy.

“Thank you.” He resigns under his breath, cupping his hands around the drink and bringing it towards him. Minho elicits a satisfied grunt, raising an arm to lace behind Jisung’s shoulders across the leather tops of the booth.  A quiet, domestic gesture that Jisung seems to lean into subconsciously.

Seungmin clears his throat dryly. “So, have you guys tried Felix’s new brownie recipe yet?”

TWO

The text had come early in the afternoon. Concise, straightforward and neatly timed so that Seungmin would have just enough time to agree and then an additional set of time to get ready.

Jisungie

Seungmin! Can you come over for dinner tonight? It’s homemade pizza night.

Jisung knows entirely how to lure Seungmin in. His love for pizza does not go unannounced, and his love for not spending excess money on takeout goes even further extended. 

It goes without saying that Minho will be in attendance too, as the couple live together in a spacious apartment in the nicer part of the city. Seungmin has been to their home a number of times, whether to partake in group hangouts or slip by to pick up some things. These dinners have very recently become a thing, starting a few weeks back with Minho offering Seungmin stay for dinner after relaxing at their apartment after classes, and now Seungmin finds himself eager every afternoon to find out whether he will be fending for himself for the night or fine dining by Minho’s cooking expertise.

Consider him gluttonous. Consider him lazy. There is nothing better than having someone cook for you and you do not need to pay them a single dime.

You

Of course. I’ll be over just after 6.

It also goes without saying that even though he isn't pushed into hard labour, Minho and Jisung still put him to work in the kitchen.

“Seungmin-ah, dice up the onions I left on the counter over there,” Minho instructs like the head chef he is from the sink, vegetables in hand as he douses them in water. He has an apron wrapped tightly around his waist that reads ‘Kiss the Chef’ on it’s front, something that Jisung had probably gotten him as a gag gift one day and Minho has committed entirely to. He wears the apron proudly, like a crown bestowed upon a king. 

Seungmin obeys eagerly, happy to help in whatever way he can. Jisung has set out the pizza bases on oven trays neatly and has begun to spread a thick layer of tomato paste across each one.

Seungmin grabs out a sharp knife, one that glistens almost menacingly under the kitchen lights, and begins to cut the onions into thin slices. The knife is so sharp in fact, that it slices through the thick vegetable with little to no resistance.

It also also goes without saying that despite his determination to be of any sort of help, Seungmin is clinically destructive in any food handling setting. Meaning, he is too clumsy for his own good and always makes a much bigger mess than necessary.

Trying to make waffles? The batter spills out the edges of the waffle maker machine. Cookies? Always end up flat and soggy and downright pathetic. Toast? Just straight burnt, every single time. He needs five bowls to make a simple dish and uses at least twenty different utensils of all types.

Minho and Jisung are aware of the blatant fact that is Seungmin’s misfortune in the kitchen, however they try so generously to include him wherever possible. Unfortunately, it seems not even their kindness can prevent the fate that is Seungmin making a complete mess when cooking.

“Ouch!” Seungmin hisses sharply, the knife falling to the counter with a loud clang. Seungmin’s hand darts to his chest, red beginning to seep at the pad of his pointer finger. He inhales bitterly through gritted teeth.

The cut isn’t grisly. A thick, lengthy slice down the length of his upper finger. Likely to leave a scar for a relatively long time, and in need of a bandaid sooner rather than later, for the blood continues to pool out of the wound at an almost alarming rate, and drip down the remainder of his finger.

The domestic sounds that had filled the kitchen had now fallen abruptly silent following Seungmin’s outburst. Beside him, he can see Jisung has paused the spreading tomato paste, and the man is instead staring intensely into the side of Seungmin’s head. Seungmin, on the other hand, tries to pointedly ignore the distinct attention. He cups his bleeding finger with his unmarred hand, feeling increasingly sheepish.

“Ah, sorry, I accidentally cut myself. Do you guys have any bandaids?” He laughs, a slightly embarrassed shake present in his voice. Great, he’s already made a fool out of himself and he’s barely finished slicing the onions. He was literally given one job. He knows his luck is pretty unfortunate in the kitchen, but this is purely just God’s way of entertaining himself. Like, really, this is absurd.

While Seungmin is still internally registering his own growing shame, a hand lands firmly on his shoulder. It pulls with a startling amount of strength, spinning Seungmin around until his back lands against the counter now positioned behind him. Minho, the assailant appears to be, removes his grasp on Seungmin’s shoulder only to grab at his injured hand and bring it close to his face. His expression is surprisingly serious, inspecting the wound as though Seungmin may bleed out on the spot then and there. Seungmin blinks stupidly at him.

Minho raises his gaze to scowl at him. “Seungmo, are you stupid? How could you have possibly managed this?”

Seungmin feels his cheeks blaze in embarrassment, his shoulders coming up defensively. “Do you think I did it on purpose?” He bites back, attempting to tug his hand out of Minho’s grip, but Minho’s hold is incredibly firm. Even at Seungmin’s harsher attempts, Minho just pulls him back with utter ease, his expression now that of an irritated mother whose child has just ran face first into a glass door. 

“Don’t pull away.” He commands crossly. Seungmin, despite his usual passion for doing exactly the opposite of what he is told to, feels strangely frozen to the spot after Minho demands it. With a vexed pout, he remains still when Minho steps away to rush towards the sink, swiping a clean tea towel and muttering what is probably a string of curse words under his breath. Jisung materialises beside him, allowing himself to grab Seungmin’s wrist without asking and frown at the sight.

“Seungminnie, that must have hurt.” He mutters, holding Seungmin’s hand gently in his grasp– In complete contrast to Minho, who had clutched onto him so harshly Seungmin had almost wanted to complain. Now, Jisung holds him like a child holding a precious doll, scared it may break at even the slightest of touches. 

“It’s fine. It’s just a cut,” Seungmin attempts to brush off, partly because despite the very dramatic line of blood that has trailed down to the base of his palm, the pain from the wound only presents as a mild sting, and also because he is incredibly embarrassed at the insistent coddling his dramatics have forced out of the couple. They probably feel like his parents, suddenly responsible for the injury he’s placed upon himself in their kitchen. Oh God, the concept makes Seungmin feel almost nauseous. 

Minho returns with the same stern expression, damp tea towel in hand. He stands beside Jisung, allowing him to continue to hold up Seungmin’s hand while he begins to dab at the blood. At some point, Jisung’s other hand has reached up to the back of Seungmin’s neck, caressing softly at the short hairs on his nape. Quietly, as he watches Minho’s precise work, he mumbles a chorus of reassured pleasantries: “Very brave, Seungminnie, very brave.”

Now, Seungmin’s embarrassment has been placed thoroughly aside to make space for a new, horrifying feeling.

Caged in by the pair, Seungmin’s heart rages an unwilling war in his chest. It is incredibly intimidating to have a very visually appealing couple touching you practically all over. Where Jisung has him held softly by the nape, Minho has no concerns with pressing into his space to scrub at his skin. It’s just as he removes the tea towel that he reaches to his left and begins opening a fresh bandaid packet.

“I’m never giving you a knife again.” He grumbles as he peels the packaging open, discarding the thin wrapper without much thought and focusing on stripping the liners off the bandaid. 

“I’m sorry,” Seungmin mutters pathetically, having found that his voice suddenly won't allow for much else. Minho pauses to glance up at him, eyes becoming round with enough contrite to give Seungmin emotional whiplash.

“Don’t apologise.” Minho says, bordering on a delicate whisper. Seungmin gulps harshly at the gentle display, remaining unable to speak as Minho continues on with wrapping the bandaid around his finger. Minho’s skin brushes against his own fleetingly, yet somehow registers as faint zaps of electricity under Seungmin’s fingers. Jisung continues to watch the ordeal quietly, his hand repeating its soft movements in Seungmin’s hair.

Minho finishes applying the bandaid with a very faint, very subtle squeeze of Seungmin’s finger. His hands drop to his sides, but Minho also chooses to not step back from the positions they've felt inclined to hover over Seungmin with. Instead, he matches Seungmin’s gaze with a quiet sigh. Jisung’s hand slowly slips out of his hair, much to Seungmin’s instant disappointment, and he mourns the loss of the admittedly calming sensation as Jisung drops his bandaged hand and too stares at Seungmin wordlessly.

Now, with no hands distracting him with pressing touches, Seungmin’s embarrassment begins to reignite.

“Thank you,” He utters, feeling quite small under the watchful gaze of the couple. He also–now that he can much more consciously decipher his thoughts as they appear in his mind–feels immensely guilty. Had he not just gotten… flustered from the attention from his two good friends? Even worse, his two good friends who are in a happy relationship together? 

A sickening sensation creeps up his throat, threatening to spill over. Did Minho and Jisung realise his red nature came from the sudden contact imposed upon him, not just from the embarrassment of an admittedly feeble cut? Would they be angry if they found out? Disgusted?

Seungmin quite frankly felt disgusted with himself. He’s never felt so taken by a simple display of kindness, let alone by two people at the same time. Was that something he was into?

Oh, he’s a slut. That’s it! Something dark and twisted inside of him just liked the situation he was put in, not the people who happened to be in it. That had to explain it.

And explain it, it must, because Seungmin swallowed down that bile in his throat without so much more of a thought. He was going to forget about these funny feelings that have decidingly spawned at an unfortunate time and pretend this never happened. For now, he would focus on reminding himself of reality. Jisung and Minho simply helped him with a cut, and he was not going to be selfish enough to consider it in any other way.

Minho’s expression still holds that mild disappointment from moments ago, however softened by a will he chooses not to voice aloud. Beside him, Jisung offers a small smile.

“Minnie, how about you go sit down at the counter?” Jisung offers, “we’ll finish preparing the ingredients and then we can decorate the pizzas together.”

Seungmin frowns, furrowing his brows. “I’m not a kid. I can keep helping.”

“No, you can’t,” Minho states blankly, stepping backwards to allow Seungmin to break free of the human wall they had formed against him. The sudden expandment of fresh air hits Seungmin a bit too quickly, almost knocking him off his feet. He’s grateful that he’s still pressed himself into the counter behind him. “What’s that saying? Just sit there and look pretty. We’ll finish the rest.”

And really, what could Seungmin say to that? He drags himself around the counter to fall into one of the seats with a childish huff, one which Jisung and Minho happily ignore. They transition into what Seungmin observes to be a rhythmic dance as they work around the kitchen, passing by each other by holding onto waists and arms in a tangle of domestic deliveries. Seungmin watches them silently, a sullen emotion nibbling away at his chest. He wishes it would shrivel up and die immediately. 

They all decorate their pizzas together, sliding toppings across the counter and arguing about overuse of shredded cheese. Jisung piles on a mountain of cheese to his pizza, something Minho complains is incredibly greedy and that Jisung will definitely regret it later on the toilet. Seungmin smiles fondly at their heated exchange, stuck between the two as they bicker on either side of him.

They set the table and stand around impatiently as they wait for the pizzas to cook. All of their stomachs had begun to rumble loudly in hunger despite the not so sneaky swipes they all made at shredded pieces of ham or sliced peperonis as they topped the pizzas. When the oven had dutifully dinged, Jisung had been the first to jump up, racing towards the kitchen with no hesitation.

And soon after, they all sat at Minho and Jisung’s long dining table, pizzas placed enticingly before them and cutlery at the ready. Minho had taken his spot at the head of the table, while Seungmin and Jisung sat on either side of him, across from each other. 

“Fuck, I’m starving.” Jisung moaned–rather crudely, actually–and ripped off a precut slice. The excess cheese almost comically melted off the sides of his pizza. 

Minho hums in agreement over his own mouthful. “Despite the casualties, we’ve really outdone ourselves.”

Seungmin pauses mid-chew, sulking instantly as he glares at Minho from the side of his eye. “Hey–” he swallows, “It was one measly cut.” Minho raises an amused brow.

“You were bleeding all over your hand. For one ‘measly cut,’ you have quite the flair for dramatics.”

Seungmin couldn't fault him there. Instead, he resigned to what he always did when he was in the wrong. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“Well, you seemed very concerned with my dramatics.”

“Hey, next time I’ll leave you to bleed out and get infected.”

A shoe nestles up against Seungmin’s own, pressing against his shin carefully. Seungmin slowly turns towards Jisung, who smiles sweetly, unsuspectingly. “Ah, but you handled it so well, Minnie.”

Seungmin’s stomach swoops dangerously low. He clears his throat, ignoring the really alarming rate at which heat seems to rise in his neck. “Um. Thanks.”

Minho chuckles under his breath, drawing Seungmin’s attention towards him. Jisung’s foot stays pressed against his own, rubbing into him faintly every so often.

“He’s right, Seungmin-ah. I expected you to start crying.”

“Really?” Seungmin drawls, feigning the unimpressed sentiment he wants to display, however is currently far too preoccupied with the sudden game of footsies happening under the table right now. He hasn’t moved an inch since Jisung has pressed against him, although it’s not like the other seems to care all that much. He instead continues to watch Seungmin gleefully, something unnervingly sinister hiding behind that welcoming smile. Seungmin tries not to overthink it and make claims of something that’s not truly there.

“Of course. You’ve never dealt well with pain. Such a whiner, you are.”

And that terrifying swoop occurs once again, causing Seungmin to stiffen in his seat. 

Something is incredibly wrong with him. He should not be getting such emotional whiplash from a roulette of praise and mockery.

“How would you even know that?” He mumbles, taking a generous bite of his pizza in hopes that his full mouth was a sign to end the conversation.

To Jisung and Minho, it is not. “What movie do you want to watch after dinner?” Minho asks, resting his chin on his upright palm in a casual manner. Seungmin blinked.

“Oh, I hadn't realised I was staying for that long.” He stated honestly. Beneath the table, Jisung’s foot gives him a little kick, bordering on the entrance of Seungmin’s pant leg.

“Of course you are.” Jisung says, like it was nothing. And maybe to them, it is, but to Seungmin, it has him sinking further into the chair like he belongs there. In their house, at their table, with them. It feels good; To belong.

Minho frowns at his contemplative silence, tilting his head. “Do you not want to?”

Seungmin shakes his head swiftly, shutting down the question instantly. “I do. I really do.” The couple smile easily, returning to their food under a blanket of small chatter. Seungmin looks down at his food, feels the foot pressed against his skin, and realises he probably can’t stomach much else.

THREE

“Now, you’re not going to be happy with me…”

The entire class groaned. Whenever their professor uttered those sheepish words, he was usually about to give them a reason to be unhappy with him. From essays to assignments to sudden room changes, he always had something unfortunate up his sleeve.

The professor crossed his arms over his chest. “Wow. This type of attitude is exactly why I'm doing what I’m going to do. Your next assignment is partner work!”

His fanfare fell short amongst the much louder array of groans and grunts echoing around the classroom. Their professor did not relent.

“And it’s due next week!” If he had been any more cheerful, he would have been flashing jazz hands.

Seungmin could hear the audible smacks of heads hitting desks around him. He too would be letting his head fall to his desk if he wasnt so acutely aware of his very friendless state in this class and the very odd looks he would receive from his lonely corner of the lecture hall. 

The fact that he has no acquaintances in this class has never really bothered him. He really enjoyed settling down into his seat without any distractions, dedicating the entire class to absorbing knowledge and new concepts. It only ever became a problem when professors decided to do things like partner work, and Seungmin could feel the dread settling in his stomach at the thought.

Everybody would rush over to their friends, clutching on to one another and begging to be partners. Seungmin would watch this happen, waiting for all the partners to form and stragglers like him be paired together or the teacher begrudgingly allow him to do the work on his own.

It was like third grade all over again.

Oh god, what was he thinking? He’s a grown adult for God’s sake. He can handle the rejection that is not having a partner for some stupid class-

“Seungmin, right?”

Seungmin raised his head, surprised.

Above him stood his classmate, towering over with an incredibly intimidating height yet adorning an unassuming smile. He’d seen this particular classmate a couple times around the school and in lectures. He usually sat by himself towards the back of the room, always listening diligently with a pen in hand.

Seungmin twisted in his seat to face him. “Yeah. Soobin?”

Soobin’s smile grew, his perpetually pouted lips thinning out into a curve. “That’s right. Do you have a partner?”

Seungmin stared blankly. “Oh– No, I don’t.”

“Cool,” Soobin nodded, “would you want to pair up then? I don’t have one either.”

Relief flooded in Seungmin’s system. “Yeah, that would be great.”

Soobin flashed a set of pearly white teeth, his eyes creasing into crescent moons as he sank into the seat beside Seungmin. “Nice! I’ve been meaning to speak to you for a while now. All of my friends take entirely different courses– I assume it’s the same for you?”

Seungmin laughed airily. “Yep, same here. I was beginning to think I was the only person in this class that didn't know someone beforehand.”

“Guess that means we got to stick together then, right?” Soobin grinned, and Seungmin matched his expression with ease.

The two fell into a comfortable hum of conversation. Having never quite spoken before, topics of the research project long faded into general chit-chat, something Seungmin usually found to be a drag, but realised was quite intriguing with Soobin.

“I love karaoke. I try to go with my friends all the time but they’re always pretty busy.”

“Me too!” Seungmin exclaimed, leaning forward in his chair. “My friends are super busy with school and work. They all do such different things, you know? It’s hard to find a time that accommodates to all of us.”

“I guess that means we have to go together then, right?” Seungmin says with a cheeky smile, and Seungmin is so taken by it that he nods without even thinking.

The rest of the class’s time comes and goes, and one planned karaoke date and a research question posed later, their professor is hustling them out of class eagerly.

“I have a movie to catch,” he announces to the class as they file out the door, “my wife and I are going to the premier of the Supergirl movie!”

Seungmin and Soobin are some of the last to exit the lecture hall, dawdling behind as they stretch out their conversation to its extent. Seungmin finds himself really enjoying talking to his new friend, not particularly wanting their chat to end. Soobin seems to share the sentiment, lingering outside the door their professor had just run out of; strikingly eager to watch that movie.

“Can I have your number?” Soobin asks, the sudden question capturing Seungmin off guard. His surprised hesitation must be acutely present on his face, because Soobin stiffens and flails his hands defensively.

“Sorry! I should have specified! For the project, of course. I wouldn’t– I wouldn’t ask something like that just after meeting someone…” He babbles, eyes darting from left to right nervously.

Seungmin is struck out of his startle with a laugh, reaching to pull his phone out of his back pocket. He finds Soobin’s easy awkwardness incredibly amusing, a stark contrast to the easy-going confidence he had shown in the lecture hall. 

“Don’t worry, I get it.” Seungmin reassures, holding out his phone, screen prepared on his contact list. Soobin takes the phone gratefully and types away at the digital keyboard, brows knitted in pure focus. After a beat, he hands the phone back. Seungmin can see he has sent himself a simple ‘Hi,’ to make sure the message has gone through, and has named himself as ‘Soobin from Class.’

Seungmin tucks the phone away back into his pocket. “Cool. I guess I’ll see you next class then.”

Soobin smiles brightly. “See you then!” He begins to walk away, holding out his phone and shaking it, “Don’t be a stranger!” He motions to the device, and then turns around completely and heads off down the path. Seungmin shoots a small smile and a wave to the back of his head.

The entire interaction has left him feeling a bit giddy as he watches Soobin walk away– probably a bit creepily. He can’t believe he’s spent this long in that class without speaking to him! They could have been friends way earlier, and then maybe Seungmin would have had someone to complain to about the content, someone that actually understands and could offer support. Well, better late than never, and the phone in his pocket feels heavier with promise.

“Who was that?” A sudden voice cuts sharply behind Seungmin’s ear, causing him to jolt forwards with a shriek. Minho appears beside him, eyes narrowed in their constant displeased look. From his other side, Jisung saunters in front of him, too.

“God, how are you so light on your feet?” Seungmin breathes, bringing a hand to clutch at his chest.

“I took ballet classes,” Minho shrugs, “who was that?” He repeats.

Seungmin wills his heart to calm, letting his hand fall to its side. “Just a classmate. What are you doing here?”

“A classmate?” Jisung overpronounces with a scoff, like Seungmin has said something utterly stupid, and then his hand slips behind Seungmin and down his back. Seungmin suppresses an immediate shudder.

“Then why did he ask for your number?” The hand slips further down into Seungmin’s pocket and swiftly pulls out his phone. Seungmin instantly makes a grab at it, but Jisung hoists it in the air and far away, face turned challenging.

“What are you– He needs my number for the project we’re doing.” Seungmin reaches for his phone again, feeling embarrassingly like a school girl being teased by her crush, but Jisung just steps further back.

“What, he can’t email you?” Jisung questions. Seungmin balks.

“Don’t be stupid.” He stands blankly, given up on obtaining his phone. Jisung can keep it.

“Were the partners assigned?” Minho intervenes, stepping forward, “or did you ask to be his partner?”

“He asked me, actually,” Seungmin points out smugly. Did they think that little of him?

Minho seems to not believe him. His face flattens even further.

“‘Hello, Seungminnie’” Jisung reads aloud in an incredibly monotone voice, head lowered as he squints into the phone screen, “God, someone's eager.”

Seungmin makes a rapid swipe and manages to steal the phone out of Jisung’s grasp, glaring at him deeply. “Don’t be mean. Why are you here anyway?”

Jisung glares back with equal fire. “We’re walking you to the library.”

That breaks Seungmin from his scowl, surprise now coating his face. “How did you know I was going to the library?”

“You always go after your 3PM classes,” Minho states, like it is common knowledge to everybody in the world that Kim Seungmin goes to the library after his 3PM classes. Seungmin blinks between the two, who stare at him like he's an idiot for not remembering his own schedule.

“Again… how did you know that?” He presses. This feels like something they shouldn't know. It’s not creepy or worrying, just kind of… intimate, he supposes.

“Because we actually pay attention to you, Kim Seungmin, believe it or not.” Minho rolls his eyes, tired of Seungmin’s apparent stupidity. Seungmin doesn't feel as though he’s being that slow right now, but then again, Minho always looks at him like that.

Jisung slinks an arm through his, pulling him close with a sniff. “Let’s go, I’m cold.”

“Are you guys my bodyguards or something?” Seungmin comments, but falls into step without protest as Jisung leads the three of them towards the library. Minho walks silently beside him, curling his arms over his chest.

The two don’t answer. Instead, they quietly guide Seungmin down the path and around the block, knowing the journey to the library almost as instinctively as Seungmin himself did. He allowed the two to pull him away, slipping into the backseat of his mind and decidedly observing the scenery of the university. The trees had flourished a bright green shade, and in them, birds chirped melodically overhead. 

It felt almost picturesque, walking beside Minho and Jisung on this sunny day surrounded by blossoming flora and singing fauna, but at the same time, it felt incredibly normal too.

FOUR

Seungmin seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the couch as he flicked mindlessly through the TV channels, thumb cramping from the constant pressing of the remote buttons. Face pressed into the cushion below, he squinted at the TV as the screen flashed from movie to show to documentary, none intriguing enough to stay on the screen for more than ten seconds.

“Have you picked one yet?” Minho called from the kitchen, where the smell of fresh, buttery popcorn had begun to waft into the living room.

“Nope.” Seungmin called, voice muffled. He continued flicking through the channels.

A rough force shoved his feet off the couch, forcing him to fold awkwardly. Jisung slumped into the space he had created, similarly sinking into the couch.

“We gotta pick something,” He frowned, studying the screen with complete focus. “Oh! How about The History of Britain's Medieval Castles?”

Seungmin pushed himself upwards so that he no longer laid stiffly along the couch, instead almost shoulder to shoulder with Jisung. “Um. I’ll pass on that one.”

Jisung hummed inattentively and snatched the remote out of Seungmin’s hands, now flicking through the channels at an even faster speed than which Seungmin had. Seungmin watched the screen for only a moment before wincing at the flashing lights and glancing away, fearing he’ll turn ill from whiplash.

Jisung gasped. “Oh! This one! I’ve heard good things about this movie.”

The screen played what looked to be a high budget production of a college setting movie. A girl, presumably the main character, was scribbling away at homework on her desk, appearing conflicted.

The scent of buttery popcorn intensified, and Minho slid into the couch on the other side of Seungmin, throwing the snack into his mouth.

“What’s it about?” He asks, gesturing the bowl over to Seungmin with a shake. Seungmin takes a grateful handful.

“Classic college romance movie. She falls in love with the bad boy of the school but she’s like a math genius or something so it’s totally doomed.” Jisung explains, reaching across Seungmin to steal his own handful of popcorn.

“We’ve watched a thousand movies like this.” Seungmin points out, “We only have movie night once a month. We should try something new.”

“Or we can make movie night a weekly thing,” Minho suggests, “then we’ll have all the time in the world to try something new.”

“I like that idea,” Jisung smiles through a mouthful of popcorn, “weekly movie night.”

Seungmin glances between the two, who already seem cemented on the idea. “Weekly movie night, then.” He musters a small smile, sinking further into the couch while realising he didn't get much of a say in the decision at all.

The movie is considerably cliche, with scenes and moments seemingly pulled straight from a fourteen year olds Tumblr page, but the kitschy plotline and humorous acting were entertaining enough to keep the three reeled to the screen. The popcorn levels depleted by the minute.

At some point throughout the night, they had seemed to melt into one, shapeful blob. Jisung had slumped down onto his shoulder, his cheek nestled into the crook of his neck and bunching like a chipmunk. Minho, slightly more spatially aware, had simply smushed their sides against each other, creating an additional layer of comforting body heat between the two of them.

Jisung had very consistent commentary on each scene that passed, and Minho had very judgemental commentary on the dialogue. Seungmin would either hum in agreement or laugh at their antics, opting to keep his opinions on the movie quiet– Which was actually that he didn't quite mind the gaudiness of it all.

It was cozy. Having an insistent, warm presence on either side of him made Seungmin feel safer; Protected, even. Something instinctual, like a need to be looked after.

A part of Seungmin felt ashamed from this strange urge, especially seeing as it was only called for from the affection of his friends. Two friends, in particular.

It doesn’t matter. He won’t make things weird.

And he didn’t, he remained very respectful and very casual despite the constant warmth on either side of his body and Jisung’s breath grazing his neck periodically. But like all good things, they must come to an end, especially when it means embarrassing the hell out of Seungmin in the process.

The movie had progressed to a climax. Through their hardships, the main characters had finally reached a resolve and discovered the misunderstandings which mostly drove the plot of the movie. Now, with everything bared out for both to see, a sensual music begins to emerge in the background as the two characters stare at each other, waiting for the other to make a move.

The scene becomes so tense that Seungmin almost feels as though he's intruding, suddenly incredibly self aware of his own existence. Jisung’s head feels a little heavier on his shoulder, and Minho seems closer than before.

A hum comes from his shoulder. Like this scene, and all the scenes before, Jisung indulges the room on his commentary,

“I can’t believe it’s taken them this long to kiss.” He mumbles into Seungmin’s shoulder, “They’ve been eye-fucking eachother all movie.”

Seungmin’s face scrunches up on instinct, his cheeks heating at the vulgar choice of words. “Have they?” He asks, genuinely, because he hasn’t noticed much eye-fucking himself. He thought it had been quite PG up until this point.

Jisung laughs, raising his head from Seungmin’s shoulder to spare him an amused look. “Duh. Have we been watching the same movie?”

A voice comes from Seungmin’s other side. “Seungmin wouldn’t know if someone was attracted to him even if they wrote it on their forehead in sharpie.”

Seungmin’s head whips towards Minho, frowning. “That’s not true.”

Minho raises a brow, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t it?”

Seungmin felt himself bristling, and forced himself to look away. Unfortunately, as his eyes directed back towards the screen, the characters in the movie had just begun a passionate embrace of frantic grasps and merging lips. It was hot and heavy, with a blast of stirring music carrying the tone of the scene.

It wasn't like Seungmin was a prude. He could engage with conversations or topics about sex with the maturity and level-headedness of any adult of his age, thank you.

But in the end, his… inexperience always seemed to leave him off balance.

Most of his relationships stemmed from high school, having found that college left no time for new romance. Ask Seungmin, and he would say that in his younger years those experiences never drifted further than quick under the pants action that didn't quite involve penetration.

Ask anybody else, and they would say he's a virgin.

And usually, he’s not so embarrassingly apparent about it, but somehow witnessing the sight of such an intimate scene in front of Minho and Jisung makes him shake with displaced nerves. It’s catastrophic, the way he seems to unravel around the couple. He really needed to pull himself together if he didn’t want them suspecting any unwarranted affections which tended to shamelessly bubble up, despite his best efforts.

“Oh wow, they’re really going for it.” Jisung notes with mild emotion, leaning back into the couch. Thankfully, he does not place his head back on Seungmin’s shoulder. Un-thankfully, he wordlessly slips an arm around said shoulder, letting his hand rest casually behind Minho’s neck on the back of the couch. Seungmin does his very best not to tense up in its wake, but he is drastically aware of the sound of his own breathing and the heat of Jisung's skin pressed against his and suddenly, the movie doesn’t seem all that interesting anymore.

Minho hums low in response, head leaning back faintly in order to press his neck into Jisung’s touch. The motion horrifically reminds Seungmin of the state of their relationship, and the void that is his place in it, and he very awkwardly feels as though he’s wedging himself in between in a place he shouldn’t be. If he wasn't sitting between the two, they wouldn't have to make contact behind his back. Matter of fact, if he wasn't there at all, they could do a whole lot more than make brief physical contact.

Seungmin clears his throat. “Does anybody want water?” He croaks, voice a little dry. He suspects Jisung and Minho would be silently grateful for the chance to embrace privately while he twiddles his thumbs helplessly in the kitchen. Hopefully it will be just enough time to get whatever they need out of their system until the movie finishes and Seungmin has to go home.

The movie hasn't made things any easier either. What was once a passionate kiss scene has long since turned into a raunchy sex scene. Seungmin doesn't know why it needs to be this long. Seriously, it feels like the scene has gone on for a millennium now.

But just as he’s about to push off the couch and make his great escape, a hand presses down on his thigh, glueing him to the spot.

“Come on. You’re not getting worked up over a sex scene, are you?” Minho huffs, a mocking lilt to his voice. His hand seems to melt through Seungmin’s jeans and seep into his skin; Seungmin considers briefly that the temperature in the room has suddenly risen to an intolerable degree.

But he should definitely push his hand away, and so Seungmin makes a very weak attempt at wiggling off Minho’s hand with a jolt of his leg, which obviously has no effect. At least Seungmin can say for the records that he tried.

“It’s not that,” Seungmin grumbles, which is partially true. It’s not exactly the sex scene in front of him that’s turning him on–It’s the innocent hand-to-neck action happening behind him, which is arguably more mortifying. It is such a virgin thing to do, getting worked up over a little skin contact between two beautiful men he’s currently sandwiched between.

Seungmin halts that train of thought before it can go any further. That is an awful, awful path to go down at this time. He’ll save it for a rainy day instead.

“But it’s something else?” Jisung sings, and the hand once grazing Minho’s neck jumps to the skin of Seungmin’s cheek and forces his head to stare directly into those dark, teasing eyes.

He’s going to throw up.

“Don’t be weird, Jisung-ah.” Seungmin scolds, albeit audibly weakly, and attempts to push against Jisung’s hold and out of his wretched touch. Seungmin grows hotter by the second–feeling like he’s committing multiple acts of adult sin in front of two completely innocent victims–and the worst part is he knows Jisung can feel the ugly burning rising in his cheeks.

But Jisung’s grip is relentless. Instead of yielding, Jisung’s hold tightens and slips cunningly down to his jaw before yanking it upwards, baring Seungmin’s strained neck on display. Seungmin gasps, the sudden force striking a brief jolt of pain throughout his upper body, which then just as quickly settles into something deep and heavy in his lower body.

“Ah- Jisung-” He inhales sharply, body rising to accommodate the strain. Despite his body's instinctual movement, Minho’s hand clenches into the meat of his thigh, holding and pushing him back down. The stretch leaves his mouth slightly parted in buzzing discomfort, unable to close it even if he felt he looked like a fool with it hanging open.

“Ow.” He breathes, hands coming up to hold Jisung’s arm. Not push it away or bat at it–simply hold, for reasons Seungmin’s mind has lost all will to compute.

In his peripheral vision, he can witness Jisung smirk. “Seungminnie, how are we meant to play-fight with you if you don’t fight back?”

The hand on his thigh softens its grip, and then begins to rub gently back and forth, slowly and soothingly. 

“Have you always been this weak?” Minho breathes into his ear, sending an array of goosebumps down Seungmin’s neck and past his collar.

“Have you always been this touchy?” Seungmin bites back, but his attempt is pathetic and his voice wobbles anyway. Minho chuckles lowly beside him, the sound reverberating in his ear drums.

Still confined to such a strained possession, Seungmin unwillingly emits a soft wince, his face scrunching in tenderness. The sound does not go unnoticed, apparently, for the melodic rubbing on his thigh freezes for a brief moment, where silence fills the room and Seungmin feels horrified by his own flimsy fortitude, and then it commences again further up his thigh. Dangerously high. Seungmin would squirm if he knew it wouldn't strike a sharp pang through his nerves–Or if Jisung would allow him to move.

“Does it hurt, Minnie?” Minho mumbles into his ear, and Seungmin's jaw manages to drop, despite the insistent pressure keeping it up. “Is Jisungie making you hurt?”

Jisung, motivated by whatever sick idea of playfighting the two seem to have, strengthens his grip on Seungmin’s jaw, however allowing his thumb to brush delicately across Seungmin’s Adams apple. His touch leaves sparks dancing across Seungmin’s skin. 

Seungmin doesn't answer. How could he answer? He didn't trust anything but a vicious moan to escape his throat if he chose to speak. Stuck helplessly between the two, with one hand forcing him upwards and another forcing him down, he felt completely torn apart, as though he would combust into burning flames at any minute. This dangerous game was doomed to end horribly for Seungmin, no matter the outcome. Curse him for befriending a pair of oblivious freaks who have no sense of personal space.

And Jisung and Minho seemed to not realise how absurd their actions appeared at the moment. In fact, in Seungmin’s peripheral vision, they both seemed to adorn depraved smirks, as though this exchange was all but a sickly entertaining game to them.

Who Can Get Seungmin to Pop First? He’s sure that would be the title.

And he could have been able to stand his ground, could have been able to calm himself and tell the two to get their hands off him– which he knew very well they would do given he truly meant it, but Jisung just had to lean into his neck and had to nuzzle his nose into his throat and–

“Answer him, puppy.”

Seungmin has never shot forward with such force in his life. Truly, he’s never even jumped out of bed that intensely.

In throwing himself forward, he manages to break free of those fleshy chains holding him down to the couch. Of course, the sudden loss of contact demands a dreadfully cold void to fill, but at least his brain is functioning a little clearer. Now, sitting at the very edge of the couch with a far too frantically rising chest and enlarged, owl-like eyes, his head whips back to glare absolute daggers at the two fiends, who appear far too giddy and pleased with themselves. Minho is grinning triumphantly at Seungmin, like he’s just won a stupid game of Gay Chicken, and Jisung is staring devilishly with his fist in his mouth, biting down around his knuckles as though he were restraining himself. Probably from making fun of Seungmin for allowing himself to be toyed around with little to no resistance. 

Fuck. He is an idiot.

“Okay,” Seungmin begins, tone cut. “You two seriously need to establish some boundaries regarding physical touch. Normal couples don't really touch other people like that.” Does he really need to explain this to them? Is this high school, where hormone-crazed teenage boys can't keep their hands to themselves?

To make matters even worse, Seungmin isn't even mad about what just occurred. Not really, even though now his neck throbs with a tense kind of pain he doesn't quite mind. He’s more irritated at the fact that he let it go on for so long, despite his growing desire and the knowledge that Minho and Jisung were dating! A couple! Exclusive! Seriously, what did he think he was getting into? 

They wouldn't be smiling with such fervour right now if they knew just how much Seungmin liked the entire exchange. They’d probably jolt backwards in disgust and ask him as politely as they could manage to go home.

He is a greedy, greedy a monster.

Jisung, oblivious to Seungmin’s internal warfare, pulls his fist from his mouth and tilts his head playfully at the irritated man. “Come on, Minnie. We were just joking around.”

“You’re so easily riled up,” Minho comments with a sly grin, which is in no way helpful and earns him a fiery glare.

“God, I hope you don’t act this way with other people.” He sighs drearily. He hopes partly for the pitiful fact that Minho and Jisung would have a desperate line waiting out their door, ready to sign up for the throuple the two never intended to create, and partly because he can't really stomach the thought of them touching another person but each other like this. It squashes those fluttering butterflies in his stomach like an angry exterminator. 

Jisung just smiles widely, biting his lip. “No, Seungmin. Just you.”

Oh, and isn't that just something? Exactly what Seungmin wanted to hear and exactly what he shouldn't be hearing. A dangerous disillusion to a road of false hope and misguided attraction.

And yet, those butterflies spring back to life, tenacious in their will to flutter about.

Minho, seemingly tired of Seungmin’s dramatics, rolls his eyes. “Now, come on,” He says, and grabs Seungmin by the wrist and pulls him back into the couch, “we have a movie to finish.”

The movie had progressed far beyond their understanding with their previous learnt context, but with only twenty minutes to go, Seungmin decided it wasn't worth the battle to rewind or call it quits completely. 

The couple kept their respective distance after Seungmin settled back in. Minho’s hand detached from his wrist but didn't stray too far, opting to rest at his side and pressed up against Seungmin’s arm. Jisung too did not directly touch him, although his shoulder was an insistent source of heat against Seungmin’s own.

And Seungmin tried to not let his thoughts stray too severely. Tried to not recall the harsh grip Jisung mustered against his jaw, or the pressure of Minho’s palm flat against is upper thigh, or the feeling of both men pushing into him from either side–

Seungmin clamped his eyes shut. Could this movie finish any slower?

FIVE

Hyunjin had offered up the invitation in passing when walking through campus one sunny afternoon.

It was nearing the end of term, which brought equal amounts of stress regarding finals and assignments as it did hope for a couple weeks away from school work. Hyunjin, who had worked his ass off for his art portfolio’s final piece and was in desperate need of a break, had been conspiring the moment he submitted his assessment at 11:58PM, two minutes before it had been due.

“I know big parties aren't your thing, but I’d really love for you to come.” He had said, staring up peacefully at the clearing clouds above their heads as they walked through campus. “The rest of our group will be there, just with a couple additions.”

“How many additions are we talking?” Seungmin pried, glancing towards Hyunjin with a knowing look.

Hyunjin’s lips quirked into a cheeky smile, his eyes never straying from the sky. “Hm. I’m not sure. Maybe twenty?”

“Mhm.”

“Fifty?”

“Hyunjin.”

“Okay fine,” The blonde sighed, head drooping, “it’ll really be anybody who decides to show up. I have a hard time saying no to people.”

“You don't have a hard time saying no to people. You say no to me all the time when I ask you to come to the library with me.”

Hyunjin winced. “Yeah, okay. You got me there. But the library just really isn't my scene.”

“Neither is the music studio, and yet I always seem to hear you’re visiting.” Seungmin sang, finding much amusement in the way Hyunjin’s head snaps towards him from the corners of his eyes.

“Who told you about that?” Hyunjin demanded, a vicious pink dusting at his cheeks.

“Who do you think?”

Hyunjin cursed under his breath. “Park Jisung, that little snitch.”

“There’s not much to snitch on when you make it that obvious to everybody,” Seungmin pointed out, quick to jump to Jisung’s defence. It’s really not the poor boy's fault Hyunjin bombs every producing session to bat his lashes at Changbin and lure him to an empty booth.

Either way, Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “He can’t keep anything from you, that one.”

It’s a throwaway comment, one that doesn't seem to hold much value to Hyunjin because just as quickly as he says it, he moves on to discuss the intricacies of Changbin’s curls and whether or not he gets a regular perm or if his hair is naturally that cute, but Seungmin still latches onto it like a thirsty dog.

He liked when Minho, Jisung and he were perceived by the others. When their interactions were notable enough to be commented on at a later date. Made them feel special, like they were worth noting. Like there was something deeper than the surface level friendship that had conspired.

Maybe moved by Hyunjin’s declaration of utter desire for Changbin and his will to make the final move on him at his own party, or maybe driven by the knowledge that his favourite couple would be in attendance, Seungmin decides to go.

He gets ready with Jeongin and Felix. Felix has a knack for coordinating Seungmin’s admittedly plain wardrobe into something more appealing to the eye, and Jeongin knows Seungmin’s favourite mixers off by heart.

“When was the last time you bought new clothes?” Felix calls out, currently on all fours and head deep in the trenches that is Seungmin’s wardrobe as he ransacks it. Jeongin is cross-legged on Seungmin’s bed, concocting an awful brew of varying drinks that create an entirely unnatural neon color with a determined expression.

Seungmin scratches his head, considering the question genuinely. “Uh. Maybe a couple of months?”

Felix pulls himself out of the wardrobe sharply, his hair a craze of disordered tufts from strenuous effort. He blows a stray piece of hair away from his eyes, shooting Seungmin a blank look.

“I brought some spare clothes. You can borrow them.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay-”

“Seungmin,” Felix instantly objects, shaking his hair out of his face, like that of a wet dog. “I have been scouring this closet for at least ten minutes now and all I have found are basic wide leg jeans, beige khakis, a minecraft shirt and your halloween costume from two years ago. Do you want to show up dressed as Cousin It?”

“...No.”

Felix pushes himself off the ground with a great heave and sighs greatly, dusting off his pants before placing his hands on his hips. He attacks Seungmin with a pointed look. “Then you’ll be borrowing some of my clothes.”

“I think you should trust him, Minnie,” Jeongin comments unhelpfully from the bed, mixing around glasses and liquids like a crazed scientist, “Lix always looks the best out of all of us.”

Felix smiles fondly, walking over to the bed to pinch Jeongin by the cheek and pull tightly. Jeongin yelps, almost spilling the drinks over Seungmin’s fresh linen.

“And that is why you are my favourite, Innie.” Felix coos, much like how one would praise a cute baby at Christmas dinner, but the blush that rises to Jeongin’s bunched cheeks reveals something not as innocent, despite the scowl he wears.

“Alright, enough.” Seungmin shoos Felix away, not only for Jeongin’s sake, but for the sake of his new linen. “Dress me up. Draw me like one of your french girls.”

Felix scrunches his nose up. “Eugh. Okay, I guess.”

And so, it seemed not even Felix’s skills could save Seungmin from the current state of his wardrobe.

Nevertheless, Felix pulled out an abundance of clothing pieces from an alarming small bag, the stock apparently never ending. Seungmin and Jeongin, sitting on the bed before him, had watched with mild concern.

“Who are you, Mary Poppins?” Jeongin had remarked, watching with unsettled bewilderment as Felix continued to pull shirts and pants out of essentially nothing. 

Felix eyed him, briefly unamused. “Ha ha.” He enunciated, before returning to the task at hand. Jeongin turned to Seungmin with a perturbed expression, something that told him the question had not entirely been a joke.

Then, to Seungmin’s utmost dismay, a fashion show was called for. Both Jeongin and Felix had stated it was purely to create a visual on how the concept of these outfits would appear on Seungmin, but Seungmin noticed while changing that the Cousin It costume had been slipped into his pile. So he thinks they might be taking the piss out of him too. Just a little.

“How’s this?” He came into the bedroom with a sigh, standing at the doorframe with his arms lifted in the air. A casual combination of a plain white tee and baggy jeans that cut off below his belly button.

Jeongin and Felix eyed him assessingly. After a considerable hum from the blonde and a purse of his lips from the younger, they both shook their heads. Seungmin walked out of the room with his shoulders dropped.

The next two outfits Felix had formulated were equally not big hits with the masses. Jeongin had even been so bold as to give Seungmin a frank thumbs down, to which Seungmin then picked up a stray shoe from the ground and chucked it right at his head. The next time Seungmin entered the room with a new combination on, Felix was gently caressing Jeongin on the side of the head and Jeongin looked all too smug.

“Okay,” Seungmin entered the room with a heavy exhale, even twirling in out of pure exhausted delirium. “How’s this one?”

It better be good, because if it wasn't he was going to march into that party with the Cousin It outfit on and he was going to have to own it.

But Felix’s expression shifted, and hope blossomed in his chest.

His eyes drifted up and down, up and down, analysing him with utmost precision. They narrow, and then blink flutteringly, and then he turns to Jeongin. They both stare at each other, a seemingly silent language of eye contact occurring between the two. Seungmin stands awkwardly.

The outfit is nothing special. When he had put it on, he honestly thought Felix would send him back to the bathroom without much consideration.

Those same black jeans hung low on his hips, subjecting his midriff to a cool breeze across the skin. However this time, instead of a plain white tee, he wore a thin, light grey button up with sleeves that reached the beginnings of his fingers and a sudden cut at the hem. It was in no way a crop top, rather a product of Seungmin’s torso being slightly longer than Felix’s, and that factor combined with the low-rise jeans created a slither of skin visible.

Felix rose from the bed, slowly gliding towards Seungmin. His hands reached up to Seungmin’s neck, who watched the blonde with intense confusion, and then his fingers began to undo each button, one after the other. The chill on Seungmin’s skin was instant, and when Felix reached the final button, Seungmin came to the realisation that almost his entire chest was out, stopping just short of his nipples. His collarbones felt more prominent than ever, flexing visibly when Seungmin shifted.

Felix took a step back, glancing at his work.

“It’s perfect…” He whispered, in serious awe of himself. Behind him, Jeongin nodded slowly in agreeance.

Therefore, with the outfit conundrum out of the way, Felix and Jeongin threw on their own attires and forced Seungmin into a vicious round of shots. By the time their uber had arrived, with Felix looking spectacular in long pants that highlighted the lines of his legs, and Jeongin in a shirt that really stretched around his muscles, Seungmin already recognised the pleasant buzz growing in his mind.

“Let’s have fun tonight,” Felix had announced–No, declared, as they entered Hyunjin’s front porch. Hyunjin, who came from a well-off family with plenty of love to give and even more money to share, had the benefit of living in his own house in an incredibly nice neighbourhood at the age of twenty-three, with a roommate he didn't exactly need to get by but enjoyed the presence of anyway. Chan had been on the verge of homelessness when Hyunjin had offered he stay at his house for half the price at which he had been paying his own rent initially, and their bond only solidified from there.

That, and the fact that they both love to throw parties.

Jeongin nodded unworriedly and pushed open the front door with the ease of a friend who has been here many times before.

Stepping into the house, Seungmin is instantly hit with a heavily lingering smell of alcohol and an array of flashing strobe lights. There were way more attendees than fifty people, as Hyunjin had previously suggested, and in fact, Seungmin had to dodge the waving arms of dancing women threatening to whack him in the face due to the very limited space to move about freely.

“God,” Seungmin chokes, face immediately scrunched in disgust, the entire scene an onslaught on his senses, “It’s literally only 10:30.” Music blasts over multiple speakers set up across the house, forcing Seungmin to raise his voice to his friends standing right beside him.

“Is that Kloud?” Jeongin gasps, and with the skills of a devout alcoholic, slips out of their huddle like water through their palms. He disappears towards the kitchen, where Seungmin can spy a tower of red cups and half emptied bottles of transparent liquor.

“Oh wow,” Felix mutters, watching the younger sneak away, “that was quick. I expected him to last at least twenty minutes.”

“We should probably hold an intervention after tonight.” Seungmin suggests. Felix nods feebly.

“Felix! Seungmin!” A familiar, foreign accent calls out for them from beyond the bustling crowds. They begin to part, and from them, Chan emerges, a broad, gleeful smile playing on his face.

“What are you doing standing by the door!” He exclaims, tugging the two into a tight group hug. The both of them grunt from the sudden force, bringing their weak arms around him to connect the hug.

“We just got here.” Felix informs, his voice muffled against Chan’s chest.

Chan pulls them away sharply, almost giving Seungmin a neck injury. It’s clear that Chan has already had a fair few drinks tonight, if the red dusting his weren't already a clear giveaway.

“I see! Where’s Jeongin? He came with you guys, right?”

Seungmin jutted his thumb towards the kitchen. “Getting more drinks.”

Chan frowns. “Ah. That boy has problems.”

Seungmin and Felix nod solemnly.

Chan takes them both by the arms and leads them through the crowds with a tight grip, parting the seas with a dazzling smile and an authoritative presence. As they walk, Seungmin recognises a couple people from college, and says his hi’s and hello’s as they drift by.

“Look who I found..” Chan sings as they enter the open space living room, where a group of people scattered around the couch and carpet glance up. Seungmin brings his arms to cross over his chest, feeling slightly awkward.

“Hey guys!” Hyunjin smiles, jumping off the couch to welcome Seungmin and Felix with a hug.

Over Hyunjin’s shoulder, Seungmin recognises Changbin, Jisung, and Minho all relaxed on the couch, varying drinks in their hands. Seungmin makes brief eye contact with Jisung and Minho, who seem to be conversing quietly between themselves while their eyes remain on Seungmin, and then Hyunjin is pulling him back and covering them from his view.

“You look nice,” He grins, eyes trailing down Seungmin’s figure. “When have you ever worn such revealing tops?” He hooks a finger around the deep collar of Seungmin’s shirt and tugs it forward, peeking down at his skin.

Seungmin pushes him away with a rattled huff, rolling his eyes and he raises his arms to cross over the cut of his collar. “It’s Felix’s.”

Hyunjin makes a small noise, a knowing smirk gracing his face. “I should have known.” He says, and then grabs at his arms and pulls them away. “Don’t be shy. You can’t wear a shirt like that and not own it.”

Seungmin pokes his tongue out and rips his arms out of Hyunjin’s hold, but obediently does not return them to his chest. They fall to his side as both he and Felix are steered towards the couch.

“Seungmin-ah, take a seat!” Changbin squishes Jisung into Minho, who is then squished into the arm of the couch, and pats obnoxiously at the empty space he has just created. Jisung and Minho both look slightly uncomfortable with the tight squeeze, leaving Jisung to practically sit on Minho’s lap, but both stay silent as Changbin beams up at him.

“Thanks,” Seungmin shoots the couple an apologetic smile, and slumps down next to Changbin. The man hands him his drink, which Seungmin takes gratefully with a hefty swig.

“It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other outside of class,” Changbin sighs, sounding nostalgic. Seungmin hums, taking another greedy gulp.

“I saw you last week at the kebab van.”

“Oh my God you’re right.” Changbin seems appalled at his own forgetfulness, “I’m getting so old.”

Seungmin laughs, glancing down at his own bared chest. He pulls up his collar a bit.

“Hey, where’s Jeongin?” Changbin questions.

“In the kitchen making more drinks.”

Changbin winces. “There is something seriously wrong with that guy.”

“I know. We’re planning an intervention.”

Changbin straightens up. “Oh! Can I be there?”

Felix perches himself on the arm of the couch beside Seungmin. “Of course you can. You can be the one to hold him back when we start pouring his secret vodka stash down the toilet.”

Seungmin coos to himself quietly. “He thinks we don’t know about that.”

“Hey, instead of draining it, how about you donate instead?” Changbin offers, sitting forward and smiling hopefully. He is immediately met with two blank stares, and so he rests his chin on his propped up hands with a pout. “Okay, nevermind.”

With Changbin now slugging forward, Seungmin has the optimal view of glancing to his left and chancing a peek at Jisung and Minho.

His stomach drops at the sight.

Jisung has hooked his legs entirely over Minho’s lap, wrapped arms tightening around his neck and pulled in incredibly close. Minho has a hand placed on the curve of Jisung’s back, and just a couple inches lower, his other hand rests on Jisung’s ass. Chest to chest, thigh to thigh, they embrace as though they’re trying to merge into one.

They’re kissing, feverishly so, and the way that they grip and tug at each other is so intense that Seungmin feels winded just by watching it. He feels sick watching it. He can’t watch it.

His head snaps forward, swallowing down a sudden rise of bile.

“God, those two really can’t keep their hands off each other, can they?” Vaguely, Changbin’s voice comments from somewhere far away. Equally distant, Felix hums.

“They’re not usually this big on PDA. They must be riled up.”

Seungmin downs Changbin’s drink in one big swoosh. “I’m going to find Jeongin.” Get another drink, he means to say, because he suddenly feels all too sober at this very moment, and he desperately needs to get away.

Changbin and Felix offer little resistance as they let him go, and Seungmin swerves through the crowds of partygoers without so much as a glance back.

Because that’s the thing, Minho and Jisung aren’t big on PDA. In fact, they rarely ever so much as hold hands in front of Seungmin, and maybe that was the only thing keeping him delusional. Keeping him stuck in this irrational state of mind that they indulged him in, that he was an almost honorary place in their relationship, that he belonged with them on that couch. 

It was deranged. He felt sick that he had let himself get to such a point that the sight of his two friends loving each other elicited such dread inside him.

It was a cold, awful reality check that Seungmin desperately needed. 

Needing to sooth the burning sensation that had arisen in his throat, Seungmin beelined for the drinks table. He eagerly swiped for an empty red cup, grabbing the nearest bottle of liquor he could find and pouring a cascade of liquid into his cup. With a heavy exhale, he downs the drink in one harsh chug.

It’s awful. The alcohol is bitter and burns every inch of his mouth. He coughs instantly as the cup leaves his mouth, wiping at the lingering liquid wetting his lips with the back of his hand.

“Woah, rough night?” Someone laughs beside his ear. Seungmin whips around, and is met with the smiling sight of his class partner, Soobin.

“Oh, Soobin,” Seungmin blinks, head a little dizzy from moving so quickly. The pre-drinks from his house are starting to kick in, that and the mysterious liquid he just downed. A loud buzz takes home in his ears. “You know Chan and Hyunjin?”

Soobin shakes his head. “Not really. My friend Yeonjun invited me. He does dance with Hyunjin.”

Seungmin makes a small noise. “Ah, I see.” He glances around the crowded kitchen briefly. Jeongin is nowhere to be seen, and the people around him are no more familiar. 

Soobin brings his own drink to his lips, taking a small sip. “So, you having a fun night?”

“I only really just got here a bit ago.”

“But you’re already draining the liquor supply?”

Seungmin pauses his act of unscrewing a stubborn Smirnoff bottle. “Um. I’m just parched.”

Soobin laughs gently through his nose, placing down his cup on the counter behind Seungmin and taking the bottle from his hands. He unscrews the lid, then carefully takes Seungmin’s cup and begins to pour it in himself.

“I’m not gonna yuck anyone's yum. If anything, I’ll be needing the liquid courage too.” He hands the cup back to Seungmin before reaching for his own cup and fixing himself a drink.

Seungmin raises a brow. “Why’s that?”

Soobin shoots him a look Seungmin can’t quite decipher from his lowered head. He brings his cup to his lips, placing the bottle back on the counter. “You’re not going to drink?” He says instead, lips smirking around the white rim of his cup.

Seungmin blinks, an odd flush rising up his neck. Robotically, he takes a generous swig of his drink, swallowing down the nerves that had suddenly festered too.

They spend a lot of time by that counter, getting to know each other in a way class time doesn’t quite sanction for. Soobin is incredibly driven with his studies, already planning out a timeline for his future career in finance. His parents work tirelessly at their own chicken shop out of the city. Soobin wants to do well so he can retire them early.

It’s in these drunken admissions that Seungmin realises just how kind and compassionate Soobin is. Of course, it was undeniable from the get-go, what with his kind eyes and gentle persona, but after learning more of his personal life, Soobin really stands out from the crowd.

It’s nice. Seungmin supposes he should be swept off his feet by the Prince Charming demeanour, but he finds himself more preoccupied by the arm Soobin has braced against the counter, caging Seungmin in from one side. It’s warm, secured, and most of all is distracting. And Seungmin needs a distraction. Soobin is the perfect distraction.

He should feel bad. Soobin is so sweet and eager. But Seungmin thinks that maybe, if all goes well by the end of the night, he could probably indulge Soobin in something greater than a fling.

And things are looking pretty well. Soobin is leaning in closer, using the guise of the loud music to speak into Seungmin’s ear even though he could hear him perfectly well from where he stood. Seungmin chuckles and bats his lashes, pulling out all the cards tonight. 

Soobin places his cup down behind Seungmin, resting his now free hand on Seungmin’s hip. 

“You okay with this?” He asks into Seungmin’s ear, caressing his hand up and down Seungmin’s hip bone.

Seungmin tilts his head toward Soobin. “I don’t know. Why don’t you find out?”

Soobin smirks gleefully, his hand dragging up the entirety of Seungmin’s body until it reaches his jaw.

It feels familiar, the presence holding his face carefully. Seungmin just tries to not think about how it doesn't feel right.

The man leans in, bringing Seungmin’s face with him, and Seungmin’s eyes flutter shut.

But before their leaps can meet, a hand clutches onto his shoulder.

“Seungminnie,” it says. Seungmin’s eyes dart open, and his gaze snaps to the hand on his shoulder, and then follows it all the way to the body attached.

Minho, with a grip growing in intensity and an expression that radiates fierce distaste, is staring at him vehemently, lips thinned into a line and eyes narrowed.

“Minho,” Seungmin answers, eyes wide with frustration and plastering a wide, entirely fake smile on his face, “what are you doing?” He grits out through bared teeth, but his words can’t be heard over the booming party music. Slowly, Soobin shifts away, his hands leaving Seungmin’s body.

“Is everything okay?” He questions, creating space between him and Seungmin. Seungmin mourns it instantly.

Minho sneers at him. “Not really. Seungmin here wandered off and I’ve been wondering where he’s been all night. And then I find him here; With you.”

Soobin’s face pales, stepping further back. “Oh God. I didn’t know he was seeing someone.”

Seungmin splutters, watching as Soobin reaches for his cup, pauses when he realises it rests right beside Seungmin’s body, and decides it’s not worth the cause and retracts his hand.

“Wait-”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll- I’ll just go now.” His eyes meet Seungmin’s for a brief moment, who is staring at him incredulously, mouth hung open in complete perplexity. He frowns, slightly bittersweet. “See you in class, Seungmin.”

And with that, he races out of the room, almost as though he were afraid Minho would chase after him if he were too slow.

Seungmin watched him run away, feeling his heart sink. Then, the hand on his shoulder releases its grip.

“What is wrong with you!” Seungmin shrieks as he whirls around, pushing Minho back with the weak force of a man who has had one too many drinks. For the first time in the night he was thankful for the loud music and low lights, as nobody around them seemed to care too much for the growing altercation. Minho took the jab without so much as a stumble back, his face set hard.

“You’re too drunk, Seungmin-ah. You couldn't have possibly wanted that.” Minho states, adding fuel to the fire of Seungmin’s frustration.

“You don’t know what I want.” Seungmin spits. Minho’s jaw ticks.

“Yes, I do.” 

Seungmin is appalled at the audacity. He wants to continue their fight, give Minho a piece of his mind and maybe throw him around a bit more, just to see where Minho draws the line, when an arm slings around his waist.

“Minnie, don’t be mad at Minho,” Jisung frowns, stepping into view. “He just wants what's best for you.”

Seungmin feels like screaming. “How do you know what’s best for me?” He exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. Because truly, how could they? How could they know what he wants, or what's best for them, when it's the one thing he can't have? They don't even have a clue as to what he desires, so how could they sit there and act like they could give it to him?

Minho’s eyes narrow. “Don’t give us an attitude, okay? We’re only trying to help.”

Seungmin scoffs, and then regrets it instantly, because it almost brings up the countless drinks he had previously downed. “Or what? What are you gonna do about it?” His words are slurring over the next, a testament to the current state of his empty cup, and he feels the dizzying anger in his brain is now contributing to the balming of the alcohol.

Minho scowls, and seizes Seungmin’s jaw with cruel strength. Seungmin bites back a sharp inhale of pain, clenching his eyes shut for a flicker of a moment before opening them again. Minho is standing too close, eyes blazing with a newfound anger Seungmin has yet to see in him. It’s frightening to see such raw fury in a usually moderate man. It’s frightening, but the heat in Minho’s iris may be second to the warmth licking Seungmin’s insides, only to be ignited further by the arm around his waist that curls to cover his stomach too. Seungmin’s shirt had risen, now revealing a sizable amount of skin, if not for Jisung’s thick arm covering it entirely.

“You think you can walk in here with a flimsy shirt that shows off your chest and your pretty little waist and have everybody looking at you and we wouldn’t get mad?” Minho fumed, digging his thumb deeper into the line of Seungmin’s jaw, causing him to elicit a barely contained grunt of pain. 

“You think you can fuck off with another guy and have him touch you all over and we wouldn’t put a stop to that?” Minho is speaking directly into his ear now, and with his head tilted upwards, Seungmin can just manage from the corner of his vision to see the arms snaking around his middle.

“You put on quite the show, Seungmin-ah, we’ll give you that, but it’s time for you to come back to the couch with us now and settle down, before some other guy thinks he can touch you, too.”

Jisung’s head lands on his shoulder. “He’s right, Minnie. You can rest your head on my lap and Minho will play with your hair while you calm down. Wouldn’t you like that? It’ll be so good.”

Seungmin winces through his clenched jaw, eyes drawing shut once again. “Let go, I want to go home.”

The grip on his jaw softens substantially at that, however not quite enough to be shaken off. “We will take you home, puppy.” Minho’s voice softens to an absurd degree, sweet like sugar and gentle around the edges. It’s whiplash. Seungmin doesn’t know if he feels dizzy from the alcohol or the situation anymore. “We’ll bring you back to ours and you can sleep in the spare bedroom.”

And unfortunately, that’s what makes Seungmin snap.

It’s not the misplaced possessive nature of the two. Not the outright mistrust they’ve placed upon him or the way he’s held so tight he might burst.

It’s the spare bedroom.

Not their bedroom, the spare. Because in the end, Seungmin is just a spare. He is not a part of their relationship, and even in his wildest fantasies, he never will be.

With all the force he can muster, Seungmin shoves Minho backwards. The sudden gesture catches Minho so off guard that he manages a stumble backwards, creating just enough space for Seungmin to rip himself out of Jisung grip and jump forwards.

“I’m going home. Felix will take me.” He bites out, swaying a bit on his feet.

Jisung resembles that of a kicked puppy, eyebrows perpetually downturned in a pitiful manner. “But- Seungmin, just wait-“ He makes a step towards Seungmin, who throws his hands up in defence.

“Don’t follow me.” He interjects, sparing a glare at both men, “I’ve had enough of whatever this,” he motions aggressively at the space between them, “is. Come talk to me when you’re not having a laugh out of playing with my feelings.”

Jisung and Minho both blink at him, stunned out of their wits. Seungmin fumes with triumphant rage at the both of them, until he registers the notion that he had just very clearly laid his shameful, silent feelings to bare out loud. Suddenly, he feels the alcohol threaten to rise out of his throat, overcome with vicious nausea and a stammering heart.

He spins on his heels and makes a run for it, pushing aside anybody who dares to stand in his way at a time of such despair. He spots Felix in a corner, laughing good heartedly with someone from his Childhood Education class, and latches onto him desperately. Tears he had kept at bay had long since began to spill, coating his face in an ugly, salty wetness.

“Can we leave?” He asks his friend, a pathetic wobble to his voice. Felix is immediately ripped from his conversation, big brown eyes rounding at the sad sight of Seungmin.

“Of course.” He jumps up from his spot on the couch, hands coming to hover hesitantly around Seungmin’s arms, as if worried Seungmin might break at the slightest of touches. “Are you okay?”

Seungmin emits a troubled wince, his throat burning with the need to scream and cry. “I just want to go home.” It’s whispered so quietly, so desperately, that Seungmin thinks Felix may not have heard it over the music.

But Felix’s face straightens out, taking on a form of utter hardness, and he finally places a grounding hand on Seungmin’s upper arm. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Felix drags Seungmin to the front door like he’s found a lost kid in the crowd. Seungmin keeps his head down, partly due to the unfavourable state of his face right now, and partly because if he looks up, his eyes will search for them instinctively; And he cannot see them right now. 

Or maybe ever. He’s really stuck his foot in his mouth this time. It hits him like a flush of cold water as they step out into the chilly, nighttime air.

They’re never going to talk to him again. Not when he told them to speak to him when they’re ‘done playing with his feelings.’ What makes him think he deserves anything more than what they were already giving him? He’s a greedy, selfish creature full of disgusting desire and he has just ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

More thick tears splotch his face, and Seungmin allows them to do so silently as the Uber Felix had called for arrives.

Felix glances over at him, and a pitiful pout forms. He brings a gentle hand to Seungmin’s face and brushes the tears away. Seungmin keeps his head forward.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Felix questions softly. Above them, the nocturnal animals sing, grateful for another clear, moonlit night to welcome each other into a new day.

Seungmin sniffs and shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

PLUS ONE

Seungmin tossed the chocolate wrapper with immense rigour, groaning internally to himself as it bounces off the metal rim of the trash can and falls to the floor. It adds to the growing pile of his other missed attempts, wracking up a sizable mound of rubbish and wrappers he is far too sad to clean up.

In the two days following Hyunjin and Chan’s party, Seungmin has done little more than hole himself up in his room and eat his woes away. This feast consisted of lots of hot takeout, a whole tub of mint chocolate icecream, and two packets of chocolates.

It was a sorry sight to witness. Seungmin was wrapped in his blankets with his clothes from the other night still scattered around the floor. His blinds were pulled far down so that no light could penetrate into his room and shine down on him. It felt so soothing, to retreat into his bedroom and never step into the light of day. He decided to make the most of his hibernation before his class the next day, and by that he meant he was already reaching into the chocolate bag for another piece of candy.

He inhales the chocolate like a gluttonous vacuum and the wrapper he throws goes so off course, it flies straight into the head of Felix as he opens the bedroom door.

Felix grunts, eyes snapping shut in a wince. He stands in the door way, face blank.

“Seungmin,” He begins, “I see you’ve made quite the habitat for yourself.”

“How did you get in?” Seungmin sniffs, sluggishly. He knows Jeongin has been crashing at Hyunjin and Chan's for the last couple of days.

Felix sighs, shutting the door behind him and moving to the bed. “I used the spare key under your doormat.”

Seungmin hisses. “I need to move that.”

“You definitely do,” Felix agrees, and sits himself on the only spot on the bed that isn’t covered in wrappers and blankets. 

“Tell me what’s going on.”

Seungmin groans obnoxiously, sinking into his pillows and attempting to drown himself in his blankets out of dread. “No. I’d rather die with this shame.”

“You’re going to die of a heart attack if you keep eating this junk,” Felix sticks his nose up at a dirty candy wrapper he holds with the very tips of his fingers. “Seungmin. There’s so much Red 40 in this.”

“I know!” Seungmin exclaims underneath the muffle of his sheets, “I know…” He adds, much weaker.

The sheets slowly drag down his face, and then Felix is hovering over him, face downturned in all aspects.

“Please, Seungmin.” He says with complete earnestness, “talk to me.”

Ugh. Felix always won him over when he spoke so softly to him. He supposes out of all of his friends, Felix would be the least likely to make fun of him in a situation like this, anyway. He just has to spit it out, now or never.

“I told Jisung and Minho I had feelings for both of them.”

Woah. Seungmin really didn’t mean to spill it so bluntly.

And obviously, neither did Felix, because his face blanks instantaneously. Seungmin readily expects the shock, maybe slight disgust, probably a lot of disappointment.

But Felix just blinks, leaning back onto his knees.

“Okay…” He drawls, brows knitted together, “and this is a problem why…?”

Seungmin balks. “Felix!” He springs from the pillows, “because they’re dating? Obviously?”

Felix rolls his eyes, and Seungmin could scoff at his attitude right now. “I know that, I’m not an idiot.” He droned, and Seungmin would beg to differ, because Felix is acting like a complete fool right now. How could he disregard their relationship like that? 

Wait… was Felix insinuating Seungmin could be their… lover? Indulge them in the bed, not in a relationship?

Seungmin felt scandalised. How dare Felix think of him that way. He deserves much better than a raunchy, loveless threesome—

“Okay, whatever story you’re creating in your mind, drop it.” Felix dismisses his internal conflict with a pointed finger, and Seungmin feels almost unnerved that his friend could read him so well.

“I just mean… Well, they have feelings for you too?”

Seungmin blinks once. Then again. Then a third time. He stares at Felix wordlessly, the sentence yet to process in his brain.

“What?” He echoes, his head feeling a bit light.

Felix frowns, pitiful. “They have feelings for you too.”

“No they don’t.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Seungmin,” Felix exhales in frustration, “they do. Everybody knows— Except you, apparently.”

Seungmin stammers, hands beginning to shake. “What- What do you mean? How do you know? How does everybody know?”

Felix shoots him a look like he’s stupid. Seungmin feels stupid right now, completely dumb out of his mind. “Dude. They’re always touching you and buying you things.”

“That’s their love language. They do that with everybody.”

“They always have you over, like, at least once a week.”

“Movie night is tradition,” Seungmin explains, nerves starting to settle in his skin. He thinks a bead of sweat is trickling down his neck. He itches to swipe it away.

“They get mad when you talk to other guys.”

“They just want the best for me.”

“You have matching keychains with them, matching stuffed animals,” Felix begins listing off each item with his fingers, breathing out the words like it exhausts him, “matching socks, matching hair clips. Hell, you have matching bracelets that they bought back from their trip to Thailand! Hello! None of us got bracelets!”

Just to really drive the point home, Felix leaps off the bed and whisks over the Seungmin’s desk, where he swipes at a worn beaded bracelet.

“The beads literally say M, love heart, S, love heart, J, love heart. That is absurd and incredibly on the nose.”

Seungmin stares at the bracelet with complete mortification. “Oh my God…” He mutters, followed by a sharp, “Oh my God!”

Felix huffs in bemusement. “You’re finally realising. I thought I’d never see the day.”

Seungmin throws himself out of bed. “Felix! Quick! You have to drive me to their apartment.”

Felix’s eyes trail down. “You don’t want to change first?”

Seungmin glances down. His two day old striped pyjamas have been carelessly rumpled and stained with substances unknown to Seungmin. His state over the past couple days has left him oily and dirty, so it seems, and in no way acceptable to be seen by anybody of the general public, let alone the two loves of his life.

His head snaps back up. “I’ll change! Wait, no. I’m going to have a shower. And then I’ll change! And you can drive me!”

He wastes no time in waiting for Felix’s answer, instead he makes a quick dash for the bathroom and pleas loudly that Felix bring a towel behind him.

The drive to Minho and Jisung’s apartment, which is usually no more than ten minutes in good conditions, suddenly feels like an eternity despite the clear roads. Seungmin’s foot taps against the car floor for the entirety of the ride, matching pace to the rapid beating of his heart.

He bids a shaky goodbye to Felix, who wishes him good luck with an assured smile, and Seungmin fights back projectile vomiting as the elevator takes him up to their apartment.

He knocks on the door. His knuckles burn against the wood.

The silence is deafening. The only noise emitted through the hall is the nasal of his own shaky breathing exhaling loudly through his nose. His throat has dried entirely, scratching at his skin from the inside out. 

After a mere three seconds, Seungmin is ready to leave. He has his phone in his grasp in his pockets, ready to speed dial Felix and beg for him to turn around and pick him up.

But then the door handle turns, and the lock clicks, and the door creaks open.

It’s Jisung who opens the door.

Immediately, Seungmin notices the shadows under his eyes. It weighs his face down, exuding a certain exhaustion Seungmin has never seen on the man before. It strikes him straight in the chest, to see Jisung so uncharacteristically down.

Jisung’s eyes widened into large discs, his mouth parting slightly. “Seungmin?” He breathes, as though Seungmin were a hallucination. Like he couldn’t believe he would really be standing at his door.

Seungmin tries a small smile. “Hi. Can I come in? I want to talk.”

Jisung’s mouth opens and closes, and then opens and closes again, stammering for a response. “Yes,” he eventually lands on, stepping back and pulling the door back completely, “of course.”

Seungmin steps into the familiar apartment, noticeably aware of Jisung’s big eyes watching him the entirety of the way.

From the hallway, Minho steps out casually, eyes drifting instinctively to the door. They too widen as he lands on Seungmin, although not quite as animatedly as Jisung, and he halts in his tracks.

“Seungmin-ah.” Is all he says. Seungmin feels like preening at the nickname. How nice it is to hear after a while.

“Hi,” Seungmin smiles, fidgeting with his hands out of habit. “Can we all talk?”

Minho steps forward. “How did you get here? Did you walk?”

Seungmin shakes his head. “No. Felix drove me.”

Minho’s shoulders relax a bit at that. “Okay. Good.” He stares for a brief moment, one where Seungmin can’t at all read what is going on in that mind of his, and then he motions to the couch. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

Seungmin does as he’s told. He sits on one end of the couch while Minho and Jisung allow a comfortable portion of space and situate themselves on the other end. Seungmin registers that this is one of the very limited instances where he isn’t sat between the two of them. He can’t say he enjoys the cold emptiness on his back.

Jisung is speaking before he even really gets comfortable. “I think Minho and I owe you an apology.”

Seungmin’s heart drops far, far below his stomach. Instantly, a range of chaotic doubts begin to swirl within his mind, fear that both he and Felix have entirely misjudged the situation bubbling inside. He swallows from a deprived throat, attempting a brave face.

“What do you mean?”

Jisung looks like he could burst into tears at any minute. He sighs greatly. “I just mean- Well, we got so caught up in our own feelings that we didn’t recognise yours. We didn’t even think about how it might affect you, or how it could make you uncomfortable, we were just being selfish. Of course, we understand if you don’t want to see us for a while, or maybe even ever, because our feelings—Being, feelings for you, that is—aren’t really going to go away any time soon, and we can’t help it—“

“Jisung,” Minho interjects, bringing a gentle hand to Jisung’s upper thigh. It rests there comfortingly, and Jisung melts into the touch. Seungmin’s heart does a little flip at the sight.

“What he’s trying to say,” Minho adds, “is that we’re sorry we made you uncomfortable. We understand if you want some space for a bit.”

Seungmin straightens up, shaking his head eagerly. “No! No, I don’t want that at all.”

Minho’s features raise, something akin to hope glimmering in his eyes. “You don’t?” Beside him, Jisung grips the hand on his thigh so tightly the skin starts to turn pink.

Seungmin bites the bottom of his lip head enough to almost bring blood. “No.”

Jisung looks completely swayed off balance, eyeing flickering all over Seungmin in an attempt to seek something. His Adam's apple bobs with a deep swallow. “Then what do you want?” He asks, a whisper above silent.

Seungmin inhales, something shaky and decisive. With the two watching him, he feels completely stripped apart, bare and vulnerable for the eye to see. Such a sensation would drive him mad with anxiety, force him to close up and push away. But now, he feels quite familiar with it. Almost fond.

“I want to be with you both.” He admits, and Jisung chokes on a breath. Behind him, Minho blinks madly. Seungmin continues, “I want to be with you guys all the time, and I want to touch you and I want you to touch me too. I want everything you guys have to offer and for the longest time, I wanted nothing more than to not want that. But I do. And it’s not going away.”

A real, shiny tear escapes from the corner of Jisung’s eye. He wipes it away immediately, but not without an audible sniffle and a wobble of his lip.

“You mean that?” He whispers, much to Seungmin’s fond amusement.

Seungmin nods, a little laugh escaping his lips. He didn’t expect to get so emotional when entering their apartment. He didn’t expect Jisung to actually cry. But the raw emotion only further cements his guttural affections, tying him down to this couch for life.

Without any warning, Minho pushes off the couch and strides forward. He is swift in landing on his knees on the floor beside Seungmin, holding his hands firmly in his own. The grip is so iron tight and clad, Seungmin really has no chance at pulling away, if he had even wanted to. Which he definitely does not. 

“You’re sure? Because you can’t take it back after you say it. Once it’s out there, it’s out.”

Seungmin laughs loudly this time, staring down at Minho with complete giddiness flowing through his veins. Minho looks up at him like he’s a God. He holds him like he is something to be worshipped. Seungmin wonders how he hadn’t completely noticed it before, and then hopes his own admiration is just as visible, if not more. 

“I mean it. Completely and utterly.” He declares. He’s never been more sure in his life.

Minho exhales like he’s winded. It’s all the confirmation he needs to glue one hand to the back of Seungmin’s head and pull him down.

When their lips meet in a mad dash for warmth, Seungmin makes a momentary noise of surprise. Minho licks through it and into Seungmin’s mouth like he’s done it a thousand times before, mapping inside like a crazed madman on a mission of exploration. It’s so intense that Seungmin automatically leans himself backwards, but Minho’s grip on the back of his head tightens and forces him still. 

Minho inches deeper, closer, moving their mouths together with such reverence that Seungmin can feel his entire body alight with burning desire.

Until Minho is tugged away, and Seungmin is left breathing heavier than he ever has before, the air frosting the wet saliva on his lips.

“Hey,” Jisung frowns, “don’t be greedy. I want a turn.”

Minho glares at him, licking the spit off his lips. “I called dibs on kissing him first.”

Seungmin furrows his brows, bringing the back of his hand to rub at his mouth. Dibs? They had dibs on him?

Jisung pouts. “Yeah, and you got it. Let me kiss him now.”

Minho rolls his eyes, but resigns to sitting back on his feet. Jisung beams and turns to Seungmin with such an eager expression that his stomach does a low swoop. Jisung shuffles down the couch and places both of his hands on the side of Seungmin’s face. 

He gazes upon him so very softly. Seungmin swallows dryly at the sight of it. “You’re so pretty, Seungminnie. We got so lucky with you.” And then he leans forward, meeting Seungmin where he is.

If Minho kisses with force and assurance, Jisung is utterly desperate and unashamed. He presses every inch of himself against Seungmin, almost as if trying to merge them into one. Their chests connect and their thighs push up against each other and Jisung just can’t seem to get close enough. Seungmin tries to keep up, but the mouth against his kisses deeper and deeper, depriving him of oxygen and vital room to think.

When Jisung pulls away, Seungmin feels a bit dizzy. He also feels a bit empty, too, like Jisung had really merged with him at some point. A dangerous concept to manifest so quickly.

Jisung’s head falls into his neck, nuzzling his forehead into Seungmin’s heated skin. “Finally, finally, finally.” He mumbles, over and over like a mantra.

Minho appears beside him again, one hand nestled into Jisung’s hair, and one hand cupping Seungmin’s jaw. He caresses both of them with utmost sincerity, and then allows his own head to rest against Jisung’s. He looks up at Seungmin, stars in his eyes. Seungmin is enchanted.

“We’re not letting you go now, Minnie. I hope you know that.” He whispers, a usually ominous statement spoken with the gentle hush of a lover. Jisung nods into Seungmin’s neck, seconding the statement. Seungmin just laughs, leaning into the hand holding him. Enclosed by the two men that he’s loved for so long, both quietly and loudly, unabashedly and shamefully, he can’t imagine a place he’d rather be. As Jisung had said, finally, finally, finally, he felt like he was home. Like loving wasn’t as complex as he’d originally considered.

Everything had settled into place rather nicely, and no longer did Seungmin feel like he was just another particle in Jisung and Minho’s life, doomed to orbit around them forever.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He smiled, and he meant it.