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Allen recognises some melodies, and some sound foreign, yet comfortingly familiar. After living abroad for nearly ten years, he was bound to pick up the classics, but Minhee has an extensive knowledge of Korean ballad tracks, and he seems to be determined to sing them all tonight. It’s probably got something to do with these stupid missions, but Allen has long since failed his own, so he may as well indulge Minhee.
The alcohol running through his bloodstream and the disco lights painting the walls are warping his tired vision. Minhee’s tall figure sways like a daisy in the summer breeze, if flowers typically dressed in black sunglasses and tank tops four sizes too small.
The sun has long since risen, its rays pouring through the frosted window. Allen’s battery is utterly depleted, but Minhee is still tapping away at the remote in pursuit of his next song.
“Hyung, where are you going?” Minhee bellows.
Allen pauses, spinning on his heel. “Bed. I’m really tired.”
Minhee nods, tapping away on the remote. “I’ll join you after this song. Don’t fall asleep yet,” he says.
“You’re actually going to sleep in our room?” Allen asks.
“Of course,” Minhee scoffs. “What was the point of choosing bedrooms if we’re not going to sleep there? You should have some integrity.”
Allen rests against the doorframe. “Rude. I’m just saying, Wonjin isn’t sleeping in his assigned room, so technically we don’t need to stick to the rooms we chose. I just thought that you might want to share with somebody else.”
Minhee pouts, leaning back against the wall. “Of course not. Get out of my sight, that Bears jersey is starting to piss me off.”
Every swipe of his toothbrush against his teeth feels like the tick of a bomb. He can hear the faint thump of Minhee’s karaoke track through the floor for a few minutes, and then nothing. Allen moves slowly, taking his sweet time splashing water onto his face in the hopes that he might just appear.
And he does. Minhee lets himself into the bathroom while Allen’s applying lotion, gently swinging the door shut behind himself. He walks in a crooked line towards the sink, pressing up against Allen’s side.
“Are you okay, Minhee?” Allen whispers, shifting backwards.
“Too bright,” he groans.
Allen reaches behind Minhee, flicking off the ceiling lights to leave them under the dim glow of the backlit mirror. “Better?”
Minhee turns to face him, and promptly slumps over, dropping his head against Allen’s shoulder. He’s hit with a strong whiff of citrus and chlorine, likely trapped in Minhee’s raven locks. “Hyung, I wanted to talk to you in private,” Minhee mumbles, his hands coming to rest at the small of his back.
Every muscle in Allen’s body tenses. There’s definitely no cameras in the bathroom and their microphones were abandoned downstairs hours ago, so he has no real reason to shy away. The proximity is intimidating enough on its own, Minhee’s touch searing through his shirt and deep into his skin.
“What did you want to talk about?” Allen asks, shutting his eyes.
“I already failed my stupid mission hours ago, but I still had lots of fun with you tonight.”
He suddenly becomes too aware of everything he’s touching, and everything that’s touching him. Allen fears that he’ll barf out his guts if he gets too excited, so he takes a deep breath through his nostrils. “I failed mine too.”
Minhee chuckles. It’s a miracle he’s awake right now. The whole country seems to know how weak Minhee’s alcohol tolerance is, and paired with the fact that Minhee could probably sleep through an earthquake, Allen wonders why he’s so unwilling to go to bed. “We’ll probably have to make breakfast together in a few hours,” he says.
“Wait, we’re so screwed, they’re gonna do that stupid morning call thing soon. I should have gone to bed hours ago,” Allen groans.
“Do you not like me?” Minhee asks, his words slurring together. “I feel like you never want to spend time with me. I know it’s my fault that I don’t approach you, but did I do something wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Brush your teeth, we need to sleep,” Allen huffs.
“Not until you tell me what the problem is, hyung.”
Allen sighs, easing Minhee off. “There’s no problem, I just…I don’t know, it’s stupid, I feel uneasy around you. We live in different worlds.”
Minhee scoffs, standing up straight. “You’re right, that is stupid. We’re living the same life right now. You have way more prospects than me, you’re so talented and you can make your own songs and you’re really cute. Like, so cute. I have a billion videos on my phone from tonight to prove it.”
“Don’t act like you’ve got nothing going for yourself, I’m not gonna join your pity party. You sing like an angel and you’re so handsome, you’ve literally modelled for a fashion show before.”
“I looked like a lunatic, hyung. Do you think I’m handsome, though?” Minhee pushes, a playful lilt in his voice.
Allen nudges his arm. “Fishing for compliments makes you look lame. You know for a fact that you’re handsome, it’s just a simple truth of the universe. The sky is blue, grass is green, and Kang Minhee is handsome.”
Minhee giggles, slinging his arms over Allen’s shoulders. Allen should at least make an attempt to push him away again, but when they’re this close together, he’s granted the perfect view of Minhee’s freckles. “It means more to know that you think so. You’re really handsome too. I still think you’re cute, because I always see you from this angle. Sometimes when you look up at me this way, I feel it in my chest and it hurts, like I’m on fire.”
Allen raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like acid reflux.”
“No, ugh, that’s not what I mean. My heart…it beats fast.”
If it was anyone else, Allen would suspect he’s being taunted, but Minhee is too soft-hearted to be cunning. Besides, it doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t everyone’s heart pound when Kang Minhee looks at them for too long? Allen can acknowledge when someone is universally good-looking and attractive, and it doesn’t make him any less of a good Christian man.
“Hyung,” Minhee says, perking up. “Wait here for me, I’ll get my toothbrush. Don’t move an inch.”
Minhee darts out of the room, and Allen’s feet stay cemented to the tiles. Even if he wanted to go to bed, he couldn’t. Minhee has cursed him to obey, and the worst thing is that Allen doesn’t want to resist.
He comes barrelling in with his toothbrush in his fist, reaching for Allen’s tube of toothpaste on the basin. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asks, mid-squeeze.
Allen does mind, but he doesn’t bother to interrupt. Minhee moves close to his reflection in the mirror, rigorously brushing and spitting and brushing and spitting, until he’s satisfied enough to wash the suds down the drain and wipe his mouth.
Minhee turns to face Allen completely once he’s finished, eyes bright and wide. “Will you answer me now?”
“Answer what?” Allen asks.
“Well, I asked you a question before. Do you like me or not?” he urges, cupping Allen’s face in his palms.
He can’t seem to look Minhee in the eye on a normal day, but somehow, the soju gives him magical capabilities. Allen feels his attention flicker down to Minhee’s lips for a fraction of a second, but no measure of time would be brief enough to escape Minhee’s notice. “Of course I like you. Everybody likes you.”
“I don’t want you to like me the way everybody else likes me,” Minhee frowns.
“Then how do you want me to like you?” Allen whispers.
Minhee doesn’t answer him with words. He tastes strongly of fresh peppermint at first, and as the kiss ticks on for longer, Allen starts to taste the bitter remnants of liquor. The fatigue is making them clumsy, knocking teeth and bumping noses.
Allen’s come to terms with always being the smaller guy, and being the easy target for his affectionate groupmates to lean on and drape oneself over. He’s never felt it to this degree before, having to bear the entirety of Minhee’s warmth on top of his own. Allen’s hands dangle by his sides dumbly, itching to feel Minhee under them but never finding the courage.
A faint clattering noise and the creak of a door shocks them apart. Both of them stay perfectly frozen as footsteps trudge past, moving down the hallway and out of earshot.
Minhee draws in a sharp breath, dimples forming at the corners of his lips. “That was close. We should go to bed,” he whispers.
Allen blinks in disbelief. “Right now?”
Minhee lands another peck on his lips, tipping his head to the side like a puppy waiting for his owner to toss a ball. “How about now?”
There’s a high probability that he’ll black out if Minhee kisses him again, and it’s not an exaggeration. Allen bites his tongue and nods, reluctant to earn himself another kiss and embarrass himself any further.
Both of them sneak across the hallway when the coast is clear, uninterested in whatever shenanigans are taking place downstairs. As soon as they shut the bedroom door, Allen’s eyes are drawn to the camera in the corner of the ceiling, watching from above and daring him to push the boundaries further. Allen turns a blind eye to his impulses and tugs the curtains shut, blocking out the early morning’s sunlight to the best of his ability. It creeps past the gaps anyways, sprawling over the floorboards and walls.
By the time Allen turns back around, Minhee is comatose on the floor, killing any opportunity for him to make a rash decision. Not even five minutes have passed since they were sucking face in a shared bathroom at six in the morning, and he’s already snoring. Allen shouldn’t be surprised, in all honesty.
Sleep finds him with ease once he lays his head down on a pillow, at least. He dozes off, listening to the rhythm of Minhee’s slow breaths a few inches away.
Allen can’t seem to meet his gaze when they’re sobered up and milling around in the kitchen, clearing dishes from the counter. Later, when he’s alone in the bathroom with his eyes closed and a mouthful of toothpaste suds, all he can taste is Minhee.