Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Minho has always thought that infatuation was inherently interwoven with obsession. 

To be infatuated with someone means that you have romantic feelings for them, feelings which make you act foolish, silly; feelings which can strip you off critical thinking and reason altogether, rendering you blind with all the affection you have for that person. When you least expect it, you find yourself wanting to impress them, show them you could be good for them. 

You find yourself making decisions around them, thinking of them all the time – at work, at home, at school, whatever. That person is always in the back of your mind, and you can't just stop. You can't turn it off.

Isn't that what obsession for someone is like? Letting that person fill up all of your thoughts to the point where it becomes addictive; having that need to get close, to fixate on their needs, what they like or might dislike, really focus on them, intensely so. 

So yeah, Minho thinks that there's at least a fine line between infatuation and obsession (if someone were to argue that those two concepts are not intrinsically tied together at all, which in his opinion would be absurd).

And the reason for such strong conviction is that Minho experienced it firsthand; brewing infatuation and obsession towards another person.

It doesn't make him proud, especially since he's always prided himself on being steady and balanced, not easily swayed by fickle things like romanticism. 

But for a resolve so meticulously built throughout the years, it'd crumbled rather quickly the moment he laid eyes on Hyunjin in that gallery. 

The clacking of his ankle-high, heeled black boots across the wooden floor caught Minho's attention first; a sound that would have been grating, had it not come from the most beautiful person the older had ever seen.

Minho had stared at him for long enough to still remember what he was wearing at that time – a white, long-sleeved button-down shirt opened just the right amount over the chest; high-waisted trousers and a black leather belt.

They'd made small talk about the painting in front of them – which consisted of abstract shapes in red and orange hues against a dark background – but the moment ended abruptly when another man approached Hyunjin. 

Minho hadn't known Hyunjin’s name yet as they both hadn't even had time for an actual conversation, but the other man had referred to him as such as his hand quickly found purchase on Hyunjin’s waist, tugging him closer and away from Minho; defensive, and…tense.

Sensing the atmosphere, Minho had decided to maintain his distance, politely bowing before wandering away. But his eyes kept going back to Hyunjin; tracing his frame, his face, drinking him in, committing the man to his memory – not that the taller had noticed; his focus solely on trying to stop his boyfriend from making a scene in the gallery as the other kept a firm grip on Hyunjin’s arm; expression harsh, words probably even harsher.

Minho liked to think that that's the main reason as to why he decided to follow them into the parking lot when they decided to leave; Hyunjin’s discomfort, his boyfriend's aggressive behavior, Minho's worry about the taller man.

But by the time Minho had pulled out into the main road following the couple's car until they were back home, Minho's worry had morphed into something more like interest. 

He spent hours in his car staring at their window that night; long enough to see when the lights in the bedroom were finally turned on, Hyunjin coming into view with his damp hair probably from a shower; water dripping down his bare chest. 

He was beautiful. Absolutely stunning, even from afar. He could not look away.

So he kept going back. Every day under Hyunjin’s window, hidden inside his tinted-window car, there he was; watching, hoping to see or catch even a glimpse of him.

After weeks, he memorized his routine after following Hyunjin in the morning one time, curious as to where he went every morning in such informal clothing. It turns out he had an atelier. 

Hyunjin was a painter. 

Beautiful, artsy boy. Minho was enchanted, though not surprised. He'd met him at a gallery, after all. 

Studio in the morning until late afternoon; sometimes a pause to catch lunch with people Minho assumed were Hyunjin’s friends – a blond guy and a more robust, shorter one. He didn't know their names, though it would be a lie to say he was even interested at all – and then, late at night Hyunjin would go home alone, waiting for his boyfriend to get there. They lived together, but there was not a ring on Hyunjin’s finger, so boyfriends. Not husbands.

Good.

Anyway, having Hyunjin’s routine memorized made it easier to catch him home, since Minho knew more or less what time he would be there, and got off his own work just in time to see him get ready for bed.

For months, Minho was content with that; Hyunjin in his robe sitting in front of his dressing table doing what the older could only assume was his skincare routine. 

It was enough. 

But then one night Hyunjin unknowingly decided to give him more; stripping himself off his robe right by the window, exposing the lines of his body and the stretch of his pale skin, all for Minho, even though he was not the one touching him at the moment.

Minho quickly learned that Hyunjin was ravishing when he made love – glittering from sweat, lips parted, back arched. It stung that Minho was not the one there with him, but that night he'd alleviated the ache by masturbating in the car to the sight of his sweet, depraved boy.

Several more weeks passed, and Minho kept coming back to see him, to watch him. 

He liked the thrill of it; the feeling of doing something he shouldn't. He'd thrived in adrenaline, especially in his teenage years – like when he'd speed down the highway while being drunk out of his mind coming back from partying – but somehow, he'd never felt quite like this.

Granted, Hyunjin was…different. Some sort of beauty that even if Minho were a poet, he wouldn't be able to put into words; sharp eyes and features that could hide the softest smile Minho had ever seen – and he'd seen it sometimes; usually when Hyunjin would answer his friends at the door. 

Not with his boyfriend, though. Never with him. 

It bothered Minho, how that man couldn't seem to treat Hyunjin right. He rarely took him on dates (the only time Minho had seen them coming from somewhere together was on Hyunjin’s birthday, and he knows this because his friends were waiting at the door with a cake to surprise him); he never gave Hyunjin flowers, even knowing how connected to art and romanticism the other man was. He'd never arrive home with a bouquet, only carrying stress and anger, so much anger. 

Minho had watched them argue often, and Minho had watched Hyunjin cry in the aftermath of it all, once, after his boyfriend had left somewhere – Minho's heart admittedly tightening with the need to comfort the long-haired boy.

He still believes that if he knew Hyunjin was happy, then he wouldn't have returned after the first night. Maybe if he knew that the boy who caught his eyes at that gallery was happily taken and content, then he'd just move on. 

But after months of this little game, he knew Hyunjin wasn't. He wasn't happy at all.

In fact, It seemed like that man only knew how to make Hyunjin sad. 

But then again, Minho could tolerate sad. He could wait for Hyunjin to realize he'd never get anything out of that relationship but heartbreak before making his move, and a flame of hope was set alight within Minho when he'd heard the word “breakup” slip from Hyunjin’s lips at a café several weeks back while he grabbed breakfast with another friend – a recent one, apparently – whose name was Jisoo? Jisung? Well, again, that was the least of his worries as he was not the object of his interest.

He'd followed Hyunjin there on foot, trailing behind him; not too far so as not to lose sight of him but also not too close so as not to be noticeable, and was grateful yet worried about how inattentive Hyunjin was. 

For caution, he'd waited outside for several minutes before finally entering the café Hyunjin was at with that friend of his, choosing a table close to them after ordering at the counter.

Eavesdropping on their conversation, he confirmed his suspicions of how unhappy he was in the relationship, and learned that Hyunjin wanted to break things off, but didn't know how to. 

Minho hoped he would figure it out. 

So he waited.

For weeks, he waited. Patiently, given his desperation.

But that day never came; the day when he'd witness either Hyunjin or that man walk out the door for good, the day that their relationship would end. 

And then, one morning he saw it. 

Bruises. Bruises on Hyunjin. They were fresh and unmistakable, even with the make-up he was using – at least to Minho. He'd spent too much time staring at him not to notice those purples and greens.

His stomach sank as soon as he spotted them, letting out a gasp against the dead silence in the car, anger overtaking him fast. 

That must've happened after Minho had already driven away the night before. 

Hyunjin would probably tell his friends he'd fallen off the stairs, but Minho knew it was a lie; he'd seen how violent and cruel Hyunjin’s boyfriend could be, and it seemed like he'd actually acted on his impulses.

Minho wondered how the fight broke out, how it started; if his boyfriend had been drunk or simply too irritated not to take it out on the long-haired boy like he always seemed to do – though not to this extent. 

He felt gutted, wondering if Hyunjin had cried as he did it, if he'd screamed for help. Minho would've certainly abandoned all worries about his anonymity and just rushed to him. 

But he hadn't been there. He'd already left.

His nose flared, jaw tightening as his heart felt like lead, and a surge of absolute dread wracked through him, because he knew anything could have happened in that period, worse than it already was. 

He could have lost Hyunjin. 

Since entering adulthood, Minho had not considered himself to be impulsive, neither in his everyday life nor in his line of work. As a businessman, he couldn't afford to give in to his every urge – almost every decision had to be thought out in advance and weighed before any action could be taken.

But in those hours that followed Minho's stark realization his mind was a bullseye, and without reflecting further, he'd already made the choice.

All he knew was that he could not let that happen to Hyunjin ever again; just the thought of it rekindling the flames of fury burning through him.

So he would offer Hyunjin a solution; both to his dilemma and his anguish. He would never be hurt again. It would be an act of devotion, of love. 

So Minho liked to believe it was love when he cornered that man into a dark alley on that rainy night.

It was love, when Hyunjin’s boyfriend never made it home.

Weeks and months went by. Hyunjin locked himself up in his home, barely going out. Minho had thought he'd move on quicker, but he supposed death was too much for the sensitive boy to bear.

So Minho waited, as he'd been doing for over a year and a half. 

At one point he considered dropping presents at Hyunjin’s door to cheer him up when he'd not even go out for groceries, but the idea disappeared as quickly as it came. 

That wouldn't be the best course of action considering that Hyunjin was still grieving.

It was a relief, though, when at the start of autumn the following year, when there was a hint of a nip in the air and the leaves had turned brown, Hyunjin resumed his routine of heading to the atelier. And then he gradually let his friends drag him out of the house – to cafés, amusement parks, the beach, you name it. 

Minho was always there of course, inconspicuously watching, and learning – He'd even learned about Hyunjin’s favorite band when Hyunjin had decorated the walls of his now single room with their poster; taking a photo of it with his camera so he could search it up.

Then he'd found out when they'd be playing in their town next, because he knew Hyunjin would find a way to attend the concert. So Minho did, too. 

Nothing happened between them that day as Minho didn't want to ruin Hyunjin’s experience by flirting with him in the middle of a concert.

The opportunity to get close presented itself, however, several weeks later when he'd watched Hyunjin step into the night in the most revealing outfit he'd ever seen him wear – a black, sleeveless leather-like crop top revealing Hyunjin’s lower torso, paired with baggy, low-slung pants also made of leather-like material. He had his hair in a half-ponytail, using sunglasses as an accessory. 

He looked...Breathtaking, to say the least.

Minho couldn't resist following the taxi he'd taken, and though it'd been a given with the outfit alone, he still felt an excited thrum in his chest when the driver dropped Hyunjin off, indeed, right at a club entrance.

After a long day at work, waiting at a line of club-goers eager to get inside and watching as a beefy bouncer checked IDs either letting those people get in or turning them away should be exhausting, but just the prospect of interacting with Hyunjin after nearly two years made it all worth it. 

His outfit was not nearly appropriate for a nightclub – a sharp black blazer with a white dress shirt, a black necktie and a waistcoat underneath, with black trousers to match – but that didn't deter him from his goal.

Strobe lights, loud music, DJ announcements coming over the speaker, sweaty bodies crowding him…none of that could snatch Minho's attention away from Hyunjin once he had finally found him half-an-hour later – alone, thankfully – taking a sip of his martini and swaying to the beat, a little tipsy; a dazed, content smile on his face. 

Minho took his time watching him enjoy himself, the multicolored lights forming shapes onto his exposed skin…he was a mouthwatering vision; Minho ached for him. 

Slipping in the wooden stool next to Hyunjin's after he'd retreated to the bar hadn't been difficult, and unexpectedly, so hadn't been striking up a conversation with him. 

Hyunjin seemed to not remember him at all from their brief interaction years back – something which Minho had been grateful for – introducing himself, and making sure to drop formalities when Minho asked him to once he learned about Minho's age, the latter telling Hyunjin to just call him ‘hyung.’

There were no gaps or awkward silences as their conversation flowed, and It didn't take long until Minho's teasing quips and witty remarks had Hyunjin snorting and bursting into laughter, and he'd bantered with him as well, eyebrows raised in amusement even as the younger's cheeks reddened more and more from the alcohol.

Minho usually hated that term, but he enjoyed how easy Hyunjin was. He promptly accepted it when Minho asked him to dance with him, not making a fuss when the older's hand had rested on his hip, bodies moving together on the crowded dance floor. 

Hyunjin didn't move away when Minho pressed even closer to plant a kiss on his neck, and then pulled back, steering his face so he could look at him properly. The moles on Hyunjin’s face had looked even more enchanting up-close; as had his almond-shaped, sharp eyes and his full, red lips which Minho hadn't been able to stop staring at, and which quirked up into a grin, causing the older to meet the younger's eyes once more. 

Hyunjin’s mouth had tasted like alcohol and sweetness, and somehow, it had ignited Minho's addiction even more. 

That night, Minho let Hyunjin take him home, and he had to pretend like he didn't know the way there by the back of his hand, as if he hasn't spent literal years waiting for the day he'd get to lie on that bed, to be the one having Hyunjin spread out under him. 

Hyunjin really was ravishing when he made love, the older learned, and even more so when he made love to Minho; lips parted in pleasure and pleas, body so pliant and supple, his skin soft to the touch. 

••

“Hyung.” Hyunjin turned to face Minho later, in the throes of afterglow, both men covered by a soft comforter.

“Mhm?”

“I know we're strangers, but would it be weird if I asked you not to leave just yet?” 

Minho chuckled.

Easy.

“I won't leave. Not if you don't want me to.”

Hyunjin beamed, planting a kiss on Minho's lips, pressing his naked, sated body even closer against the older man's side.

A feeling of triumph bubbled up inside Minho.

He had him. He finally had him.

Chapter Text

It's dawn; the sun low in the sky, though still a little pale. From the bed Minho can make out its light illuminating the dust particles near the window, the curtains rustling lightly due to the tranquil breeze passing through. 

He peels his eyes away from it as Hyunjin stirs in front of him, lying on his side across from Minho, who is mirroring the younger's position. He's still asleep, however, naked torso on display while the covers hide his naked lower body, the dip of his narrow waist lightly caressed by Minho's thumb.

His slightly parted lips heave soft sighs, and Minho's heart thuds strongly at the sight. He's been drinking in Hyunjin’s little sounds, his whines and his fidgeting from sleep for hours now, the older having woken up an hour or so after they'd fallen asleep together in the wake of their lovemaking, not being able to go back to sleep once he'd laid eyes on Hyunjin's sleeping frame next to him.

Somehow, Minho had assumed that once he got close to Hyunjin, his fixation for him would lessen. 

Not that he'd planned on getting rid of the long-haired man as soon as he had him where he wanted him, but Minho almost hoped that a large part of his uncharacteristic behavior and fascination towards Hyunjin rested in the fact that he was out of reach – nothing getting him restless quite like the things he couldn't have – and that once he did, in fact, managed to romantically involve himself with Hyunjin, his heart would settle down.

The more time passes though, the more Minho realizes he was wrong. He really cannot get enough of Hyunjin, and is increasingly more convinced that he won't get his fill of him any time soon, if at all, really.

He likes watching him, even though he technically doesn't need to anymore – he's his boyfriend now, he doesn't need to be sneaky. Yet, he loves private moments like this; when he gets to see Hyunjin at his most vulnerable, most unguarded, trusting completely in Minho.

He takes the younger to his atelier more often than not, sometimes staying in his car, watching him from afar when he has some extra time, or finishing his tasks at work quicker so can leave early and still catch Hyunjin working on his paintings before the time Minho is actually supposed to be there to get him so he can drive him home.

He's part of Hyunjin's hangouts with his friends now instead of being just an outsider, an eavesdropper. That doesn't mean that he still doesn't watch Hyunjin, Minho's introvert behavior and anti-social reputation saving him from interacting much when he'd very much rather stick to observing Hyunjin’s body language when he isn't only with him; the way he interacts with his other friends, which kind of jokes he appreciates and which ones makes him retort and bicker.

He enjoys paying enough attention to Hyunjin to the point of having learned about his favorite flowers without having to ask, or learning about his taste in movies just by his body language when Minho would suggest a genre; the kind of food he preferred based on how sincere his responses were to his boyfriend's cooking – if his smile reached his eyes or not when Minho mentioned certain ingredients – because Hyunjin was always super polite, and while the younger never actually disliked anything Minho prepared (and he could tell), there were definitely some preferences there. 

He never said anything out loud though, always ready to adjust to Minho's own tastes, which the older appreciated, but he was supposed to pamper Hyunjin, not the other way around if it could be helped, so.

Nevertheless, it certainly makes their relationship easier the fact that Hyunjin is so…compliant. During the period that they've been dating, they've never actually argued, mostly because Hyunjin’s personality is pretty mellow, and he seems to enjoy Minho as much as Minho enjoys him. 

He likes to be taken care of, and Minho loves taking care of him. Things just work and flow between them like they're supposed to, and Minho sometimes catches himself wondering if the younger one has always been that way or if perhaps his previous relationship had somehow shaped it. 

What he's sure of is how submissive Hyunjin is, in bed and out of it, his eyes sparkling as if waiting for a mere command from Minho whenever the other does so much as send him a look, and Minho would be an absolute liar if he ever denied how much he thrives in it. 

Power and control have always been important to Minho, and being needed by someone he actually cares for does wonders for him.

Speaking of being needed, Minho slowly gets out of bed, being as careful as possible so as not to wake up the slumbering angel lying on it, bare feet on the wooden floor as he makes his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and then get ready to head out to that coffee shop a few blocks away.

He does that whenever he can – go over there to buy Hyunjin’s favorite vanilla bean frappe so the long-haired man doesn't have to, making his way over the tree-lined street wearing his sweatpants and hoodie, trying to be as fast as possible, too, because Hyunjin hates to wake up without Minho by his side.

Thankfully he's still asleep when Minho gets back home, and is delighted when he eventually wakes up and notices the beverage on the bedside table, showering Minho's face with kisses to convey his gratitude.

Minho eventually wraps him into a real kiss, one that turns into another and another, until they're making love again, languidly, taking their time as if there's no one else and nothing else in the world but them; Hyunjin sprawled under him; unshielded, wrecked, his.

“I need you s-so much, hyung–” Hyunjin stammers and whines as Minho takes him apart, eyes misty, cheeks red.

“Don't let go of me. Don't ever let go.” Hyunjin asks after a kiss, gripping him harder as if he even needs to, his desperation causing some kind of buzz to run through Minho.

He smiles against the younger's lips, cradling his jaw, pulling himself back a little and basking in how Hyunjin's jaw slackens from his pace and his pupils dilate when their eyes lock, not even bothering to strip the fondness off of his tone when he whispers,

“I won't.”

Hyunjin dabbles his brush into his wooden painting palette, scooching the red stool he's sitting on closer to the easel in front of him; bottom lip between his teeth as he concentrates on the work he's creating. 

It's early afternoon and the natural light from outside shines into the room through the large windows, something that Hyunjin greatly appreciates while he hums and pulls back every now and to look over and check the canvas, narrowed eyes and pouty lips as he scrutinizes every single detail.

There are several other paintings of his either displayed or leaning against the white walls of the atelier; the vast majority featuring warped, sometimes abstract forms; their colors jarring, dramatic.

Maybe that's why Hyunjin has been feeling so antsy with this specific creation; this is nothing like the art he's done before. Photorealism was never his thing, really; he was never able to connect well with the sense of accuracy and precision required for it; his art being much more subjective and distorted.

But he took a picture of Minho the other day – his boyfriend. 

His boyfriend.

It still feels surreal when he thinks about it long enough; the fact that Minho accepted to be his boyfriend, that they're in a real relationship. 

He still remembers how nervous he'd been to ask him, how hard his hands were shaking and how strongly his heart was aching, only for a feeling of absolute bliss to flood him once Minho actually said yes, Hyunjin's mind fuzzy when they shared a kiss.

These days he liked to take pictures of him often – though Minho was not much of a show-off and sometimes would run away from him – mesmerized by the other's beauty. 

He'd taken a picture of Minho days before, and ever since, he hasn't been able to stop looking at it, thinking about it. 

The bridge of his nose, his full eyebrows and the curve of his lips; his big, melancholic eyes which had fixed on Hyunjin’s (not at the lenses) when the younger had directed the camera towards him; it's the way he'd smiled for him, small, kind, so, so kind. 

It'd just been the best picture he'd ever taken of someone, and Hyunjin hasn't stopped admiring it since, to the point where he started carrying it around once he got it developed and printed.

He wanted to worship it, frame it, paint it if he could not engrave that image of his lover looking at him into his own eyelids. 

So he's here, and has been here for hours, looking at Minho's face, turning it into art and struggling not to, saccharinely as it may be, think that it is, already, spending every second meticulously analyzing every detail of the picture so as to replicate it in his canvas.

Somehow, Minho has integrated himself into every part of his life, basically – which is kind of normal considering they are dating each other – but Hyunjin is still surprised by how fast that process was, and even more so with how willingly Hyunjin had let it happen, welcoming him into his heart and into his life with a certainty he'd never had about anyone else before. And now Minho was even inspiring Hyunjin creatively, which was awesome.

The painting is still not finished by the time Hyunjin steps back, but he'll have time for it another day – tomorrow, maybe, once he's finished the custom commissions he's been assigned.

Hyunjin hears the reddish brown door of the atelier being slid open right as he has stood up from his spot – Minho, with impeccable timing, as always. 

It used to surprise him a bit in the early stages of their relationship the fact that his boyfriend was always able to somehow show up when Hyunjin was ready to go; coming to fetch him, but now he's grown used to it. 

One more of Minho's qualities to add to the tally, he guesses.

“Hey.” Hyunjin walks towards him, wrapping his arms around the older's neck before planting a kiss onto his lips.

“Hey.” Minho says back, grinning against Hyunjin’s mouth, one arm wrapped around the younger's middle. “Ready?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” Hyunjin looks around. “Just need to close the windows. Didn't make that much of a mess this time.” He turns back to Minho, beaming as if expecting a compliment.

Sometimes when Minho would come around to pick him up, there would be splashes of paint on the floor (vastly due to Hyunjin letting his brush fall onto the ground often), or his desk would be a complete mess; difficult to ignore even in the face of the eagerness to go home; so his boyfriend, ever attentive and kind, would help him clean up.

“Not being clumsy today?” Minho asks for confirmation, and Hyunjin shakes his head to also emphasize his point, his body swaying a little. 

Minho indulges him, ruffling his hair. “I'm proud.” He says, amusedly and lightheadedly, but if Hyunjin had a tail, it'd be wiggling with how much he appreciates the words, simple as they may be. 

Minho drives Hyunjin back home but not all the way, both men going the rest of the way on foot because the younger had wanted to feel the late afternoon breeze against his skin – their hands clasped, fingers interlaced; just the feeling of Minho's palm against his own soothing Hyunjin, who had missed his lover all day, (even though he'd been technically staring at his face throughout the whole time he'd been working on his painting).

Back at the younger's home they end up playing board games and it goes as it always does – Hyunjin struggling to understand the rules even though Minho has gone over them time and time again, the latter ending up letting Hyunjin win a few times so he doesn't get too pouty.

-

“I asked for a day off.” Minho tells Hyunjin later as they stand next to each other by the counter, cooking dinner together. “Apparently the superiors have been acknowledging my contributions to the company for a change, because they didn't even question my request. Tomorrow I'll be all yours.”

Hyunjin perks up instantly. It was really unusual for Minho to have a weekday off; unlike Hyunjin who had a more free schedule since basically as long as he delivered the paintings for the clients within the deadline then he could work whichever day he wanted, having full reins over it.

He drops the vegetables he'd been chopping back on the board, stealing a kiss from Minho, the other not even fazed or bothered by Hyunjin’s onion-smelling hands over his apron, kissing him back. 

Hyunjin’s enthusiasm frizzles out, however, when he remembers something, and Minho, always attentive, picks up on it right away.

“What's wrong?” The older asks.

“Oh, just–” Hyunjin pulls away a bit, eyes cast down. “Tomorrow is Felix’s birthday, hyung.” He looks up and when he meets his lover's eyes, there's a realization in them.

All of their friends have been making plans for Felix's birthday (the birthday boy included) for months now, the blond really excited about the party he was gonna throw, and Hyunjin, excited about the gift he was gonna get him. He's already bought it, a high-brand beautiful silver watch which he is sure Felix is bound to love.

“It’s okay.” Minho reassures, though Hyunjin senses a little bit of strain.

“I promised I'd go.”

“It's fine, Hyunjinie.” Minho goes back to cooking, picking the board in front of Hyunjin with the chopped pieces of onions and directing them into the oil-filled frying pan, the sizzling sound helping with the silence between them.

“Are you gonna go with me?” Hyunjin attempts, voice suddenly small as Minho moves about in the kitchen, working hard to prepare their dinner while the younger stays in the same place, guilty.

“You know I don't do the socializing stuff.”

Hyunjin nods, stomach churning even further. He feels bad. He should've told Minho about it sooner, too caught up in Minho being part of his routine that he’d somehow forgotten to make efforts to inform him about his plans, taking his presence as a given, neglecting to consider his introvert nature. He feels selfish.

Hyunjin eventually makes himself useful again and helps Minho finish cooking, and they eat in silence once the food is prepared and plated, Hyunjin wondering if Minho's mad at him, and desperately hoping that he isn't because that would be the first time, and because he doesn't want Minho to look at him with anything other than tenderness.

The relief that washes over him once they finish dinner and Minho doesn't hint on leaving Hyunjin's home is dizzying, and he lets out a shaky breath when he feels Minho's arm wrap around his middle once they're done with their night routines and get into bed.

Minho is not mad at him, Hyunjin concludes, and he's trying to show it to him. It doesn't completely chase away the heaviness in his chest, though.

“I could just not go, hyung.” Hyunjin starts. “If you don't want me to, I mean.” He suggests, being less surprised than he probably should at how much he means it, as if the birthday of one of his best friends could be reduced to nothing in the face of Minho's disapproval.

“I already said it's fine if you do.” Minho reassures him once more, and Hyunjin turns around in the older's hold, facing him now.

“But It's not fair. I know how hard it is to ask for an off day especially at that company of yours, and you did it so we could spend the day together but I won't even be around.”

Minho grazes Hyunjin’s cheek with his knuckles, his touch relaxing, a hint of a small smile threatening to ease up the previous tense lines of his lips; something that involuntarily soothes Hyunjin’s worries.

“I'll be okay. I'll miss you, but I'll be resting, at least. Don't feel so bad, mhm?”

“It's hard not to.” Hyunjin grumbles, and Minho kisses him until his frown goes away. 

“I'll only ask two favors of you, though.” Minho tells him when he pulls away, caressing Hyunjin’s jaw.

“Yes, anything.” 

“I'll give you the money so you can buy something for Felix to make it seem like I did it. I know basically nothing about him and I didn't know of his birthday until now so to not only not show up and not give him anything will be impolite. Also please tell him I got caught up at work, or something.” Minho finishes, and Hyunjin lets out a giggle.

The older eyes him curiously. “What is it?”

Hyunjin shakes his head, biting off a remaining smile. “Nothing. It's just… you're so thoughtful… it's cute. You're cute, hyung.”

Minho rolls his eyes. “I'm not.”

“You are.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“Ugh, let's just go to sleep.” Minho grumbles, turning away, though his ears look a special shade of red before he turns off the lamp.

“Hyung.” Hyunjin whispers once the silence engulfs them, once he's pressed up against Minho's side, one hand sprawled over the older's chest.

“Mhm?” Minho hums.

“Thank you for not being mad at me.” He says sincerely.

Minho caresses his hair, his sternum shaking a little under Hyunjin’s palm as the older gives a soft chuckle. 

He doesn't answer that directly, but he plants a delicate kiss on top of Hyunjin's head, which in turn ends up being enough of an answer in itself. “Good night, Hyune.”

The younger beams, content. “Night, hyung.”

Hyunjin had been talking about going to the beach for weeks.

As summer neared, the days grew increasingly sweltering and stifling, but their schedules barely synced since Minho was especially busy lately and was often required to stay over at the company even on extra days to oversee some kind of special project, and well, Hyunjin had wanted to go with him specifically, as he'd said so.

But Minho couldn't just stand still, part of him displeased because he was not indulging him, even if he wasn't doing it on purpose. 

So he took matters into his own hands and asked for a day off so they could finally go to that beach Hyunjin wanted. 

Minho didn't know how to swim, but he'd be more than delighted watching the view and catching the sunset on the horizon (though he does think that if Hyunjin asked him long enough he would even enter the waters, just to see him happy).

But well, it seemed like those plans were ruined now. 

Minho hadn't been mad, just slightly…disappointed. One, because Hyunjin had not informed him of plans he'd already included Minho into, and two, because he'd taken a day off in vain, and would spend his day without the one person he wanted to spend it with.

So yeah, he had been disappointed, at least at first, though he can still feel it lingering a little as he takes in the silence in Hyunjin’s home. 

It's not like he would stop Hyunjin from going to the birthday party, though. Hyunjin had basically asked for his permission to go out which had stroked his ego and it served as another reminder of the power that he had over the younger, the fact that Hyunjin had even considered the idea of not going somewhere that Minho wasn't, even though it was supposed to be an important day for him and his friends, admittedly made him feel some sort of pride.

And because of that pride, he couldn't just ask that of him – Hyunjin had to make the decision.

Minho could only hope, though, that one day Hyunjin would give up control entirely over himself and let Minho make the decisions for him, but that day was not today, so he would just have to stay patient.

But still, there was some uneasiness crawling at him. 

Minho didn't consider himself an overly jealous man, he was just…careful, that's all. And with that outfit Hyunjin was wearing when he left, it had Minho a little worried. He didn't enjoy other men's eyes on him, though he'd witnessed time and time again Hyunjin ignoring them all. 

His concern was not about that though, it was more for Hyunjin’s safety than anything, and while sitting on the couch, he'd kind of regretted not having bitten the bullet and just gone with him to the damn party, even though he would just be moody the whole night.

He had considered stalking the younger, but supposed it was pointless since Hyunjin had already texted him he got there safe and sound and Minho's been to Felix's home before, so he knew for a fact that he wouldn't be able to see Hyunjin from outside.

Besides, how would he explain to Hyunjin that he was out if he suddenly called him, when he had told him he'd wait for him in his house? He would surely know he was not at home, and God forbid, even think Minho was being sneaky and hiding an affair from him, if the older struggled to deliver a proper explanation as to why he'd lied.

That would be a disaster. Minho could not afford that, so he would just stay. 

He'd already prepared some hungover soup in case Hyunjin went overboard on the drinking along with a more substantial meal; and was just waiting there instead of in his own apartment so he could take care of the younger if he needed it.

Minho had already mindlessly scrolled through the TV channels, now reading a book he'd bought weeks prior as he'd found nothing interesting to watch. 

His attention is caught, however, by the sound of the doorbell ringing. It's only been roughly one hour and a half since Hyunjin’s been gone, so when Minho opens the door and sees the younger on the other side, he's surprised, and even more so when Hyunjin stalks forward and wraps him into a hug.

Worry starts to bubble up within him, not only bewildered by how soon Hyunjin got home but also by the latter's body language – his trembling hands, the shallow breaths he's heaving out and the absolute relief on his face at seeing Minho. 

When Hyunjin buries his face into Minho's chest, he carefully caresses the back of his head.

“What happened?” He asks after some more time, trying to disentangle himself to take a better look at the long haired-man. “Tell me what's wrong.” He prompts once more, both hands cradling Hyunjin’s face now, a frown adorning the older's face.

“Couldn't…– I had to leave.” Hyunjin chokes out, which confuses Minho even more.

“Why, are you alright?” Minho's eyes roam his face, searching for signs of pain or something that might show what Hyunjin has not been telling him.

Hyunjin shakes his head. “You weren't there.”

Oh.

Oh.

The words register, and Minho's concern morphs into something different, slightly more wicked as he now can interpret how anguished Hyunjin looks. Minho can even feel the tingles of vicious satisfaction as he can see the younger's wet eyelashes, now.

Hyunjin came home early because he needed him. Because he could not stand being without him.

Oh, fragile, fragile Hyunjin, in the palm of Minho's hand…such an easy prey, he almost wants to reward him for it.

“I'm here.” The older comforts him, wrapping him in his arms once he tugs him inside and closes the door behind them, reveling in how tightly Hyunjin grips the front of Minho's shirt, as if he'll run away if he doesn't.

Once Hyunjin calms down a bit, he lets Minho feed him, draw him a bath and lets him comb his wet hair too, but he stops Minho from dressing him, begging to be bedded, and if Minho was a better person he'd refuse Hyunjin; knowing he probably is not in his right mind.

But while hearing Hyunjin's sobs when he's under him and the way he calls his name, Minho has no regrets. 

He tries to suppress his grin as he wipes the younger's tears away, and thinks with satisfaction that maybe the day Hyunjin will let Minho control him completely isn't so far away, after all.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin should've known where this was going by the awkwardness in the invitation alone, something definitely not casual disguised in the nonchalant words Jisung had used through text, followed by Changbin and Felix. Despite knowing this, however, Hyunjin had let himself be lured by the mention of his favorite coffee shop, and also by his unfortunate sweet tooth.

He sighs, staring out the large window; observing the wet pavement from the light rain outside, some stray dogs running around and the passing vehicles, before he returns his gaze to his friends, pointedly ignoring Jisung's outstretched hand over the dark wooden table they're sitting at.

“It's been almost a month. You can't blame us for being concerned.” Jisung says.

Hyunjin exhales. “You don't need to be concerned, I promise.” He emphasizes. “I'm with my boyfriend. I'm in no danger.”

They're talking about Hyunjin’s lack of appearances in their friend group's activities, apparently something serious enough to warrant this interrogation. 

To their credit, it is true that he hasn't been the most present friend in the last month or so – often turning off his phone and going off the grid, too – but for the first time since Hyunjin has met Minho, the older has taken a vacation. 

Hyunjin has just been making most of his time together with him before he has to go back to being a workaholic, but his friends refuse to see that, even accusing Minho of being toxic and trying to isolate Hyunjin from them. 

“Then what about that time on Felix's birthday? You looked like you were terrified of not being with him.” Changbin persists, and Hyunjin’s heart sinks, just a little.

Hyunjin remembers it; the twist in his gut and the way his whole body ached the moment he stepped out of the house that night. The way his mind cried out at him to leave the party when he'd actually gotten there (after spending minutes outside trying to school his expression into something that didn't give away how he was feeling). His thoughts wandered, knowing that Minho was at home, and was the only one who could make him feel better. 

But that's the definition of true love for Hyunjin, when you trust someone so much that you don't feel good being without them, that you don't want to exist if they're not near. 

Minho makes him feel that way; he's so good to him in every single way, so much so that his absence has a significant impact on the younger, and the fact that his friends cannot see that is upsetting.

“I don't know what point you're trying to make here, hyung.” Hyunjin sighs. “I missed him, I wanted to be with him.”

“You were at that party for like 30 minutes before you started panicking, mind you.” Jisung chips in. “Does he make you afraid to leave?”

“No!" He exclaims, before he realizes he has to be mindful of his volume. "No...alright? He doesn't make me afraid. He doesn't force me to do anything, either, before you ask, so please just–”

“Okay.” Felix concedes. “Okay fine, Hyunjin, he doesn't force you. But sometimes it seems like he has so much control of what you do, control over you, and now you can barely go out if he's not next to you and you're turning off your phone, too - what do you want us to think, really?”

“I want you guys to think I'm the happiest I've ever been.” Hyunjin says. “And want you to know that he's not controlling me, I'm the one making these decisions.”

“Are you really?” Felix poses the question, and so far, Hyunjin has tried to be level-headed and reasonable during this conversation, knowing that Changbin, Felix and Jisung are coming from a good place, probably, but his patience which had already been wearing thin, snaps.

“Honestly, what do you guys have against Minho, really? I don't understand.” He hisses. “He's been nothing but respectful to you guys, and nothing but amazing to me.”

“We have nothing against him.” Changbin clarifies.

“You sure? Because to me it looks like the exact opposite.” Hyunjin scoffs and Changbin doesn't say anything back, causing a tense silence to brew until Felix eventually clears his throat.

“We just– … Hyunjinie, you're our friend. We love you, and we care about you. And I mean, has Minho even talked once about his past during this whole time you've been together? About his family and friends?"

"He barely talks to us at all." Changbin scoffs, before Felix continues,

"We don't really know him Hyunjin, you don't know him.”

“I do.”

“Hyunjinie…"

“No–” He tries, but Felix places his hand over the brunettes’.

“Believe me, we just want to protect you.” He pauses, “like we couldn't last time. We’re just making sure you're not dating an asshole once again.”

The words ring in the air between them, and they should be comforting; that was probably the intention, but they only make Hyunjin’s ears ring instead, causing him to feel utterly crushed, heartbroken. 

It is the final nail in the coffin.

Even the implication that Geonwoo, his last boyfriend, could even be compared to someone as selfless as Minho, unsettles Hyunjin.

Yes, Minho has never talked about his past, but he has also never ever made him feel unworthy, or dumb, or like his opinions didn't matter. Minho has never made him second-guess anything; never asked for anything Hyunjin wasn't willing to give.

And most importantly, unlike Geonwoo, Minho has never laid a hand on him.

Hyunjin and Geonwoo had been together for years – had met in college, then found each other years later by coincidence and decided to try things out.

It worked for a while, until it didn't, but Hyunjin had been too blind, or maybe too lenient to acknowledge just how much he was hurting in that relationship. He'd let things go too far, had forgiven too much, and things had become completely dire between them by the time Geonwoo had his life cut short. 

So while yes, Hyunjin had grieved Geonwoo's passing, he knew for a fact that he was an abusive man, and had been an abusive partner throughout most of the time they spent together, and the comparison his friends are making now makes bile rise up Hyunjin's throat, the tasteful flavor of the latte he'd had moments earlier forgotten as his stomach churns. 

Minho doesn't deserve any of this. He wants to cry.

Hyunjin’s distress must now be evident to them all by the way they try to mitigate the situation and take back their words, but it's too late, really, the damage has been done, and the brunette feels his heart tighten.

“It’s not to me that you should be saying sorry.” He tells them when they try apologize, up and fetching his jacket from the back of his chair; leaving, because there's really no coming back from this. Not now.

The bell above the door of the coffee shop chimes as Hyunjin opens it to step out back into the street, not looking back and willing himself to forget the events of this morning altogether.

Hyunjin kicks a small rock as he walks down the paved pathway of an outdoor park he's passing by along with Minho; the cool wind from the late-night ruffling his hair but not messing it up enough to bring him to fix it; the painter too busy hugging the big plush toy pressed against his chest – a white bunny with some sort of mischievous expression on its face that had caught Hyunjin’s eyes right away, and which Minho had promptly earned for him at the shooting gallery. 

Minho had taken him on an amusement park date, and it had been so exciting and fun; sharing popcorn and cotton candy as they wandered through the crowd and then sharing kisses on the ferris wheel.

Grabbing Minho's arm and hiding behind him in the haunted house, then making fun of him because he sucked at ring tossing and then kissing him yet again to chase his pout away…

Holding Minho's hand over the handles with chipped paint on the roller-coaster, shrieking at the pinball machine as he watched the balls roll and thud down the chutes. 

It had all been great, amazing; as it always was when Hyunjin was with him, and yes, he was genuinely happy, content, overjoyed that he'd spent such a great day with his lover. 

Somehow, though, it only served as another reminder of the things his friends had said the other day, of how unjust they'd been with Minho, of how wrong their notion of their relationship was. 

How could they accuse his boyfriend of being someone bad, when he got Hyunjin feeling like this? Like he was floating on air, walking on clouds, or whatever it is that people say when they feel like they might explode out of pure bliss. 

The words they'd used…that hadn't been right. Not at all. Thinking about it again though only brings that pain to the forefront once more, and he tries to stop the feeling from settling in, especially on such a beautiful night like this, but it is difficult.

“Are you upset?” Minho's voice cuts through Hyunjin’s spiraling thoughts, causing him to look in his direction; noticing the older's flushed cheeks from the wind and the way the corners of his mouth are pulled down.

“No, hyung,” Hyunjin grabs Minho's hand with the one that's not holding the big plushie, squeezing it tight. “I'm not upset at all, today was a beautiful day, really. I feel great.”

Minho hums. “Then what's this frown on your face about, mhm?” The older man stops walking, which in turn halts Hyunjin’s steps too, touching the younger's forehead with his index finger next, Minho's touch light as if to smooth it over; sending a melancholic thud through his chest.

“It's nothing important.” Hyunjin tries.

“You're lying to me.” 

It's not a question.

Hyunjin’s heart sinks.

He expects some sort of reprimand or to be scolded for it. Minho hates lies, and so does Hyunjin, and they've never felt the need to resort to that before, so the younger knows his behavior is out of character and wrong and is also aware of how unfair it is to be keeping the older in the dark like this on something that ultimately does concern him.

Minho's unexpected response to that is to wrap Hyunjin into a kiss, instead, soft but steady, cradling the side of the taller man's face, making his eyes sting.

“I'm sorry.” Hyunjin whispers when they pull away, and his whole body shakes with relief when the older nods.

“We'll talk about it later when we get home.” Minho tells him between the caress he leaves onto Hyunjin’s cheek. “And don't lie to me again.” 

Hyunjin is nervous. Minho can tell by the light wavering in the younger's steps when he opens the door for both of them; by his fidgeting when he returns from his shower and watches Minho cook, by the way he keeps avoiding eye-contact across the table.

And he can tell too, that the reason for it has something to do with him, because Minho is the only person who can make Hyunjin nervous like this. 

However, it is also obvious that this is not like the harmless, wholesome-kind-of-nervous Hyunjin had seemed when he'd asked Minho to be his boyfriend; lips bitten from biting on them too much and cheeks flushed as he fought not to cry, no; this is something deeper, this is something that makes him upset, sad. 

And Minho doesn't particularly find any enjoyment in seeing him this way, which makes it even more fundamental that he knows exactly what has caused him to feel like this.

But if there's one thing that all this time observing Hyunjin has taught him, it's that he doesn't do well under pressure; the younger not being the type to fold under it but to withdraw and retreat inside himself instead, so Minho doesn't push. 

He's already told Hyunjin they were gonna talk about it so the younger knows it's about to happen, and knows too that he's the one who has to kick off this conversation, since what prompted this was his behavior and his lying in the first place.

Not that Minho minds it too much, though. He even thinks it's endearing; kind of cute that Hyunjin had even entertained for a second the possibility of Minho falling for it. 

Minho makes his way around the couch to sit next to his lover. And waits. 

Waits until Hyunjin stops pretending he's focusing on the movie they're supposed to be watching, waits until he lifts his head up from its spot on Minho's shoulder and takes his trembling hand away from the older's thigh, balling it into a fist, then fixing his reading glasses he'd put on for some reason. Hears him clearing his throat and feels the burn of his gaze when he steals a look at the older. 

“Hyung.” He calls, his voice meek and mellow. 

“Mhm?” Minho turns to him, almost pitying his lover when he sees him gulp. 

He doesn't acknowledge it.

“Can we talk now?”

•••

Hyunjin places himself onto Minho's lap and starts to speak, and with each word that comes out of Hyunjin's mouth, Minho can feel his own temperament flaring and some sort of anger boiling up inside. 

To say Minho maintains the most healthy dynamic with Hyunjin would be a lie – Minho cannot and will not ever be normal about Hyunjin, and he'd made peace with that fact since the first time he returned to watch him from inside his car – But he'd never harm him. He'd never be the one to put him in danger. In fact, he'd freed him from it once, and he doesn't regret it a bit. Would do it again, even, over and over if necessary.

Minho loves Hyunjin, with all his might and with everything he has, and it doesn't change a thing that the love that he harbors might not be socially acceptable or perceived well by the younger's narrow-minded friends.

They'd watched Hyunjin almost die in the hands of a violent bum for years and done nothing to stop it; and if that's the love they want him surrounded by, they need to do better.

He locks his jaw, feels the hand that's resting on Hyunjin’s thigh give a subtle twitch, but ultimately keeps his vexation under wraps, because if there's one thing he doesn't need to do is to prove Hyunjin’s friend’s words true. 

He cannot show the side of him which they want Hyunjin to see. 

Minho keeps his expression even, maintains the light touch on his lover's long hair, comforting him as the younger grows increasingly more upset and disturbed as he recounts the words Felix, Changbin and Jisung had used to describe both their relationship and Minho.

“I think I'm with you on that, I really don't know what they have against me, Hyune.” Minho plays dumb, referring to what Hyunjin revealed he'd said to them. “It's just– I know I'm not like their closest friend, but I thought we got along well enough.”

“I know, hyung.” Hyunjin tells him, pouting. “You have done your best. You've tried to mingle and you have done nothing besides being friendly and amiable with them this whole time we've been together. This situation makes me so disappointed…It's so unfair.”

“Hey–” Minho, sensing Hyunjin’s distress, lifts up his chin so they can look into each other's eyes, before he gives him a kiss. Hyunjin smiles into it, just a bit, even if evidently still affected and wounded. “Thank you for defending me. You were really brave to go against your friends for me.”

It's an immense victory in Minho's books. Hyunjin has known at least 2 out of those 3 for far longer than he's known Minho, and yet, hearing their criticism of him had made the younger jump to his defense, to protect him. It is yet another testament to the love Hyunjin holds for him, of how devoted he is, and Minho is proud, because he would've done the same. 

“About my past…” Minho decides to address, and Hyunjin’s eyes soften.

“You don't have to talk about it.” He comforts, ever sweet.

“Not with them.” Minho caresses Hyunjin’s side. “But with you, it's different. You're my boyfriend, and I owe you that. They're right.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, another denial on the tip of his tongue. Minho stops it with a kiss. 

“It's okay.” He promises. “It's nothing much, there's not a lot to tell, though what I have to tell isn't the happiest childhood story.”

Hyunjin swallows. “Hyung…” 

Despite his previous words, Minho doesn't really want to do this, not really. It's not his thing, anyway, this whole opening up kind of thing (especially about vulnerable aspects of himself). But if that’ll help bring Hyunjin emotionally closer, then he'll do it. 

There aren't a lot of things he wouldn't do for Hyunjin, anyway.

“My parents…" Minho starts, "they died when I was really, really young. I must've been 2 when they were killed. Car accident.” He tells the truth, and holds Hyunjin’s hand when he hears the younger's breath hitch. “Since then, I was raised by my grandfather. He was mean. A very mean, old man.” 

“Oh, hyung…”

“Yeah. I think–.... I think he took the loss of his son out on me, in a way. He hated that I was alive instead of my father. To him, It should've been me.” Minho schools his face into the closest thing to neutral, though his mind can't help but wander to the summers spent in his grandpa’s house, and all the days in which he'd prayed to an absent God, wishing he'd wake up and be somewhere, anywhere else. Anywhere except from there.

Hyunjin gasps and he holds Minho close, as if physically hurt by the things he's saying. 

Still, Minho keeps going.

“Growing up with him was hell, as you can imagine, but once I was old enough I got myself a job and left. Never looked back. Came to Seoul to study, and I've been here ever since. I'm fine now, but that part of me is something I've never wanted to look back on.”

“I understand. I– Gosh, hyung, I'm so sorry. You are the strongest person I know.” Hyunjin tells him, his voice sounding lighter as if he's fighting off tears. “I'm sorry for everything that h-happened to you, I'm sorry that little Minho was treated that way, I'm sorry that my stupid friends just had to give their two cents on you without even knowing anything about your story, I–”

“Baby.” Minho prompts him to breathe, to calm down a little. He squeezes Hyunjin’s wrist a bit, brings him back down; wiping an insistent tear that was ready to fall down his cheek.

Hyunjin just wraps his arms around the back of Minho's neck in response, pulling him into a hug; one that the older reciprocates, running his hand up and down Hyunjin's back, trying to soothe him as he muffles his tiny sobs.

Ever since his fixation with Hyunjin started, Minho has noticed and come to admire the younger's empathy. Minho himself does not lack it, per se, but with Hyunjin it is as though he feels for other people in a stronger kind of way, as if he's going through those things with them, as if he's both emotionally and physically affected by their struggles, in a way he cannot control nor stop. It's fascinating.

“I hate them.” Hyunjin declares in his tiny voice, defeated and dampened by sadness, as if he's even capable of feeling that. “I hate them all. You didn't deserve this.”

“Neither did you.” Minho states, and pries Hyunjin’s face away from his hands, drying his tear-stained cheeks. 

When his lover makes a sound of confusion, Minho elaborates. “They, your friends, had an agenda with this, Hyune. With all of this – trying to make you doubt me, distort our relationship as something harmful. It's clear to me, now.”

“Hyung, wh–”

“They don't think I'm truly dangerous, Hyune. This isn't about protecting you from me. It never was. They just want you to be with someone else.” 

Hyunjin pauses. “Who?”

Minho caresses Hyunjin’s face. “Changbin, baby.” He drives it home.

It would be amusing to watch the array of emotions on Hyunjin’s face as the words slowly register, if only his heart wasn't also in the middle of a havoc. It's a risky move he's pulling, he knows that; and the stakes are high: Hyunjin could distance himself from him and come to resent him for trying to put him against his friends in the exact same way that the situation unfolded with the roles reversed. 

Furthermore, Minho is aware that his claim isn't entirely true; he doesn't believe that Hyunjin’s friends were only interested in setting him up with Changbin when they tried to “alert” him in regards to Minho, but if this wasn't war before then it surely is now. 

It was fun letting him go around and about with his friends, offering him some semblance of liberty, but now with them trying to poison his lover's mind, it is evident for the older that he needs to make Hyunjin trust him and only him, make him come to the realization that only Minho wants the best for him and have his best interests in mind. 

It is really a no brainer for the older that the best way to do that is to mine Hyunjin’s confidence in Felix, Jisung and Changbin; and the fact that Minho knows that Hyunjin’s friend does indeed see him in a romantic kind of way certainly helps in creating this narrative.

“Can you blame them?” Minho continues, faking a nonexistent nonchalance. “Changbin has probably been pining after you for years, poor guy. He just never really had the courage to pour it out, and well, Felix and Jisung decided to take matters into their own hands.”

“What? Hyung, I love you, you know I do, more than anything in this world, but this–...this doesn't make any sense.” 

“Oh Hyune, you really haven't noticed it?” Minho coos. “The way he looks at you…”

Minho remembers catching it the moment he began to hang out with them; noticing right away what Changbin was doing the most to hide – and to his credit, he's done a good job, toning it down at least whenever Minho was around, but those glances at Hyunjin always found a way to reveal what words couldn't.

Minho recognized it, because he too probably looks at Hyunjin that way; entranced, captivated. 

But he never saw Changbin as a threat, no. For starters, Hyunjin has never once looked at Changbin in a way that wasn't brotherly, and even now as Minho lays the truth out to him, even the possibility of his friend seeing him in a different light is difficult for the younger to assimilate.

Poor man, really, always orbiting Hyunjin who's always been his sun, yet held back by the certainty that he’d be burned by the younger’s rejection if he ever asked for more.

It is a pathetic kind of situation to be in, in Minho’s view: to yearn for someone whose love one is certain they’ll never have—not in the way they want, at least.

He’s never quite understood it, but it's not like he ever could; he’s never pursued anyone who hasn’t ended up being his, Hyunjin included. 

Nevertheless, it was amusing to watch while in triumph; revel in the knowledge of having won Hyunjin’s heart without even battling for it, as Changbin was never truly an opponent. Minho would have even taken pity on him, truly, if only he wasn't being such a nuisance, now.

Regardless of his romantic fantasies, can't he see how happy Hyunjin has been? Can't he see how good Minho has been for him? If he truly cared for his well-being, then he would let Hyunjin be with the one who can provide for him, leaving his personal reasons aside to face the truth objectively: he isn't what Hyunjin needs, Minho is.

But he can't, because his love is the selfish kind. He wants Hyunjin for himself in another unhealthy way, yet he thinks he is righteous, blind to his own faults. He would make Hyunjin unhappy just to prove his love for him is the right one.

A feeling bubbles up inside of Minho, cold and sharp, and he thinks that if only it wouldn't be too on the nose, Minho would deal with him (and the others too, if he felt up to it).

This time it wouldn't be an impulsive decision. It would be more calculated, more thought through; detached and clean. Minho wouldn't corner Changbin in an alley. He would be quick – not to make sure he wouldn't suffer, but to get to Hyunjin quicker, instead, so they could be together before dusk. 

Unfortunately that can't be viable now, not with the obvious clash between Minho and Hyunjin’s friends, but the thought doesn't leave – he could finish this… project years later, once Hyunjin had been properly taken away from their sights, both of them long gone towards the upstate region, away from the city and from the connections tying Minho to them, the supposed distance serving as an alibi in case he were to actually do something. 

He saves the idea and pushes it into a corner of his mind.

Back to the present, he comforts a still confused Hyunjin.

“I think you two should talk.” Minho tells him.

“What?”

“It's just–...This can't be healthy, mhm? He obviously has feelings for you, Hyune, and if he's willing to rope your friends into this whole thing just to get you away from me…”

Hyunjin shakes his head, on the verge of tears again. “I can't believe he would do something like this, I can't–”

“More reasons as to why you should talk, then, clear things up. I know he has some things to say to you. And then if you get confused…” His voice goes deliberately small.

“What?” Hyunjin grabs Minho's hand hard, trying to get a better look at the older once he ducks his head down.

“Please don't even say that. Don't.” Hyunjin moves his hands to cradle both sides of Minho's face. “I don't want him. Hyung, even if what you're saying is true, even if Bin sees me like that, that doesn't change anything for me. I love you, and only you.” 

Minho savors the kiss Hyunjin gives him, wickedly relishing in the hint of desperation it carries. 

“Don't want to trap you.” Minho whispers against the younger's lips.

“Stop.”

He caresses Hyunjin’s hair again like he's done a few times tonight. “I think you need some space to think.”

“I don't want space.”

“But you need it.” 

“No.”

“Don't fight, Hyune.”

The younger's face crumples and he lets out a sob at that, and all the satisfaction Minho just felt moments earlier dissipates. He hates it; hates the way the younger shakes and the way he buries his face into his neck, full-on crying now, desperately clutching Minho's shirt in a grip that screams don't leave. It actually pains Minho to see Hyunjin this way – so frayed and distraught. But he guesses it is a necessary evil.

Minho makes it clear for Hyunjin that he'll come back as soon as the younger has resolved things with Changbin and once he's sure he still wants Minho after he hears what the other has to say; also assuring Hyunjin that he loves him and that he's only a call away.

It's hard for Hyunjin; he can see it just by his swollen, red eyes from crying and the way he trembles, but it's hard for Minho, too, having to part from him like this, when every part of him is screaming to gather the younger in his arms and hold him until he begs him to let go. 

He knows, however, that his plan will only work if he goes about it this way, so there's really no other alternatives. 

Minho swallows down his emotions, trying not to knock back on the door once it closes behind him and he feels the cold of Hyunjin's absence properly hit his skin.

The street is mostly empty as it is nighttime, the streetlights giving it a warm and yellowish glow. 

Minho pulls up his hood, being careful so as not to be too loud as he makes his way across the wet asphalt. 

He pauses from time to time to hide behind some trees and a few cars that line up the road, but thankfully Hyunjin is too distracted to actually turn around.

He's wearing wide leg pants and an oversized knit sweater, but he seems to be cold anyway by the way he's bracing himself against the wind. 

Minho has half a mind to put an end to this to reach out and give him his own hoodie, but he'd just be a fool to ruin his plans like that when he knows exactly where Hyunjin is headed to: Changbin's house.

His night had been awful. He'd felt empty and hollow, devoid of purpose without Hyunjin to keep warm through the night, without use to his warmth now that he wasn't transferring it to the younger's relentlessly cold skin. So it delights him that his lover hadn't waited long to do what he asked him to and confront Changbin.

He wanted Minho back, too.

Minho follows Hyunjin for around two more blocks until the younger finally reaches the destination. And then he has to wait. 

He hasn't brought his car; now too recognizable for Minho to stop it by Changbin's place, so he waits under a tree across the street.

He lights a cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs as he tries to quiet the raw, fraying tension within. It's a little nerve-wracking, if he's being honest, being out here not knowing how the conversation is going between Hyunjin and Changbin, and ultimately, if his lover will think the same way as he'd claimed he would when they'd talked.

Minho had been bold and confident setting Hyunjin up to this, but if he said he hadn't felt the sudden prickle of trepidation once he thought about it in the throes of his loneliness, he'd be lying.

No matter how sure he was and still is of Hyunjin's feelings towards him, sending his lover to the home of another man just so he can hear the said man confess isn't the most comfortable thing for Minho. 

The truth is that he doesn’t want anyone else to perceive Hyunjin – romantically or otherwise. Sometimes he wishes the world would stop seeing him entirely. 

Sometimes he wants to stab every eye that dares.

The sound of Changbin’s front door opening cuts off Minho's thoughts, and he hides behind the tree trunk, until he hears the familiar sound in the quiet of the night: Hyunjin's sob.

He wishes he could, but Minho cannot take his eyes away, and therefore he sees it – Hyunjin walking fast as if wanting to run away from there, wiping his cheeks furiously before reaching into his bag and fetching out his phone, and thank goodness that Minho has his own on ‘do not disturb’ mode, so it only buzzes inside his pocket when the younger calls him.

The world seems to stop on its axis when he picks up.

“Hyung,” Hyunjin lets out between another sob, “You were r-right.” He stammers, struggling. “You were right, Minho hyung, I shouldn't have doubted you. All this time, you were right. About Changbin, about my friends, I–... hyung, come back to me. Please come back to me.” He cries. 

Minho almost loses all his strength as relief floods him, trying to gather his bearings before he finds his voice to speak again.

That night, Hyunjin showers him in apologies, and cries until there are no more tears left, until he hiccups and Minho has to hold him until he stops trembling; promising he's forgiven, promising he's never going to leave again.

That night, Hyunjin also tells Minho that he is his and no one else's, and that he'll never let anyone destroy what they have, not even his friends. He deletes their contacts, and pride fills up Minho's chest.

“You are the only one I need.” The painter says, and the words light up yet again the flames of possession and unbelievable want inside of Minho.

The older kisses him deeper for it, holds him like he's never held him before. 

“Yes, Hyunjinie.” Minho tells the younger when he pulls away. “I'm the only one you'll ever need.”

Chapter Text

Hyunjin loves it when Minho gets like this – soft, almost mellow. 

Not that the older doesn't treat him with care or tenderness, far from it, but there is something extra sweet in the way Minho touches him, sometimes, when he gets home from work and looks straight for Hyunjin – planting his hands on the younger's hips in the kitchen as he cooks, leaving a kiss on Hyunjin's neck while he is at it, or kissing him on the mouth slow and deep before asking him to have sex.

God, Hyunjin blushes just thinking about it. Sex with Minho is beyond amazing, the sort of thing Hyunjin would've thought about and missed for the rest of his days, had he not asked Minho to stay after they slept together for the first time that night almost 2 years ago.

Minho's touch on Hyunjin’s bare skin leaves goosebumps all over it, his calloused hands pinning him down, opening him up, caressing and sometimes, slapping him; Hyunjin loves it all, thinks he would die for it, and die without it. 

On his knees, Hyunjin worships Minho like a God, like he deserves; shrinking under the weight of the older's gaze when the other man looks down at him; appreciative, loving, and yet, merciless. 

There's always something in Minho's eyes, something sharp underneath the affection, like he could destroy him in the same way he adores him, but Hyunjin pays it no mind. If anything, it makes Hyunjin hold him even closer, begging and begging again, and Minho– oh Minho never tells him no.

Minho always kisses him roughly when he fucks him, and he fucks him deep, coaxing screams out of him and making Hyunjin cry until he has no tears left, until he's imploring for the older to stop even though he doesn't even mean it, and Minho knows he doesn't mean it, so he never does. 

The things Minho whispers in his ear are lovely in a way his hips are not, his words carefully laid out to land deep into Hyunjin’s chest.

He loves it when Minho calls him “good”, “pretty”, “baby”, when he tells him he loves him with that rough voice from sex, when he chants Hyunjin’s name over and over like a mantra, or like it's the only thing he knows how to say.

Hyunjin loves it even more when Minho asks him to say he's his, like he has any reason to have a doubt, like Hyunjin would ever be anyone else's. He sounds so desperate when he gets like that, though, a little possessive and needy, even, and Hyunjin loves him so much, so much, it almost overwhelms him.

Minho's scent surrounds him after it is all over and they're clean and lying on the bed – Minho spooning him, holding close, his breathing even and heartbeat rhythmic against Hyunjin’s back, and sometimes Hyunjin sinks further against the older, hoping to drown in his warmth, hoping to never wake up from this dream.

Hyunjin nurses a cup of coffee while sitting with his legs tucked to one side on the sofa, the living room bright with the natural light streaming through the large windows. 

He looks around. 2 years ago when he'd come here to Minho's apartment for the first time, the first thing he'd noticed was how clean it'd all looked, incredibly spotless, and…gray. Two gray sofas, a dark gray ottoman, a light gray stool on the side. What wasn't gray was black, like the TV stand, the TV itself, and the coffee table. It was all very organized but ultimately lifeless, devoid and, frankly, hollow. 

Now though, as he sits in the same living room, he gets the feeling of coziness, warmth. 

First of all, the sofa he's sitting on is now light brown instead of gray. There's a teal velvet armchair on the side, and some sort of mid-century credenza positioned against the now light-colored walls (walls which, by the way, are adorned with a lot of art).

It's during moments like this, Hyunjin thinks, that he can sit back and realize how much of an influence he's had on Minho, as much as the older has undeniably had on him. 

A light wood easel stands by the window next to a large potted plant, holding a canvas with a painting on it – a minimalistically outlined figure against a dramatic background, painted from its torso up; white lines radiating off its head and outwards, with a striking red band covering its eyes.

His client had requested a painting depicting blindness, but the metaphorical kind.

“When something within us begs for us to see what's beyond the surface, yet, we refuse.” He'd said.

Hyunjin thought it as a pretty unusual commission, in hindsight, and though he hadn't struggled with it per se, it is a creation that feels haunting and thought-provoking even now as it stands there, daring Hyunjin to stare.

He wonders why.

Shaking those thoughts away, Hyunjin cleans up after himself, washing his used cup and getting ready to stop by the studio and meet the client who'd commissioned the art (in order to smooth out some details on it if necessary, or adjust further to his tastes). They'd already exchanged emails beforehand to discuss, but Hyunjin has always been inclined to in-person meetings when it comes to these things.

It feels slightly foreign now, though, this thing – leaving their Minho's apartment. 

He hasn't done it in months.

After falling out with his friends, Hyunjin didn't have any reasons to actually do it. 

There were no longer invitations to bars, or coffee shops, or parties and movie nights. And there was no reason for him to go to his atelier often either, since 1) He could very much work from home and bring the exact same results as he did there, and 2) no leaving meant there was no longer the ache of separating with the things which reminded him of Minho; like an used dress shirt of his thrown on the adjacent sofa that brought Hyunjin comfort just by being in his line of sight, and the smell of his cologne that lingered even after he was gone. 

Minho had actually gotten back to work since his vacation was over, and while it had been crushing for Hyunjin to go back to spending hours without him, the pure bliss of seeing Minho walk past the threshold once he got home was the highlight of his day.

“You look like a puppy, you know that Hyunjinie? When you wait for me like this. You look like one.” Minho had said one time, weeks back, one hand petting his hair. “An eager puppy excited to see its owner.”

The younger had been on his knees on the living room floor, his chin resting over one of Minho's knees while the older sat on the couch, looking down at him as he quite literally spoonfed him since Hyunjin had confessed he'd not felt like eating the entire day, that day.

Hyunjin liked to be in that position sometimes; he learned, liked to feel small in comparison to the older even though he was the taller of the two. Something in the way Minho towered over him felt comforting, grounding. 

The younger remembers having registered the words, then, assimilating the comparison Minho had laid out, and pondering over it for some seconds.

“I want it, hyung.” Hyunjin had told him a while later. “Want you to be my owner.”

He'd heard the older chuckle, a light, familiar sound.

“Oh pretty thing,” Minho had cooed, “I already am.”

It turns out everything went better than expected with his patron, who had expressed words of gratitude and praises to both Hyunjin’s work and the idea it conveyed, saying that it very much aligned with what he'd had in mind in the first place, which brought him both relief and joy, since most of the time things weren’t that easy. 

Art is subjective, open to interpretation and well, who was to say that the man would view the painting in the same way Hyunjin did and understand the train of thought he had while making the piece? He might have had a complete different view of it, and Hyunjin might have had to redo it from scratch. 

Thankfully, that wasn't what had actually happened; thus, making Hyunjin go back to Minho's apartment with a skip in his step.

It is still afternoon, and the golden hour sun lights up and basks the pavement and some stone-clad building nearby in its glow, painting the street in a gold-colored, warm yellow.

Despite his mild excitement, the throng of people in all directions, the hums of distant conversations, the distant bark of stray dogs and blaring transit noises has been admittedly getting unnerving, replacing the light feeling in his chest with something heavier as the minutes go by. It's a sensory overload.

In hindsight, he could very much chalk it up – his sudden clammy hands, his fastening heartbeat, the sweat at the back of his neck and the dryness in his mouth – to his lack of exposure to the outside world. For months now he's been wrapped in his little loving bubble with Minho.

Perhaps he's forgotten what the chaos is like.

Hyunjin presses his arms across his chest as if bracing himself, looking down so as not to catch anyone's eye, just focusing on breathing and,

go home; walk faster; the path is just a little further. go home to safety, to Minho's place, to Minho's scent, 

Minho Minho Minho.

Hyunjin is so distracted (or rather way too focused on not paying attention to his surroundings), that he doesn't even notice 3 figures approaching him, letting out a yelp when someone tugs his arm and drags him inside an alleyway.

He tries to scream for help, but a hand is clasped over his mouth.

“Shut up, Hyunjin-ah!” 

The voice causes the younger to open his eyes.

It's Changbin. Along with Felix behind him. And Jisung.

His heart weirdly calms down at the sight of his former friends, but still, this is all very weird. He still doesn't feel totally safe, but even if he attempted to run, the way Changbin has him pinned to the concrete wall would make it impossible.

His shoulder sag; he feels defeated.

“God, I can't believe we're doing this.” Jisung lets out after Hyunjin finally stops muttering words under Changbin's hand.

“Well, it's not like Hyunjin has given us any alternatives. He blocked us, remember? Probably deleted our numbers, too. And he doesn't answer when we knock on Minho's door. He doesn't even leave at all.” Felix tells him, exasperation mixed with worry seeping into his tone.

“Right.”

Before Hyunjin can ask what is going on now that Changbin has finally set his mouth free, Felix turns to him again, answering,

“Hyunjinie, look- I know you said you were safe with Minho, and we all wanted to believe that, we really did.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “But after what he did…”

“Don't start.” Hyunjin warns, but Felix is unfazed,

“He made you believe we were setting you up, Hyunjinie. He's brainwashing you!”

Hyunjin's face contorts. “Stop it, Lix! All of you! You are the liars, and you, Binnie–”

“We found out stuff, Hyunjin. About Minho!” Jisung finally exclaims, now equally distressed, in a way he almost never gets. He's red in the face, wide-eyed and a little helpless, too. It stuns Hyunjin for a while, enough to render him speechless.

“That's right.” Changbin adds, causing Hyunjin to redirect his gaze at him. ”…This is serious, Hyunjin. He's dangerous, and we have proof.” Changbin says.

Hyunjin wants to retort again, because Minho definitely isn't, but his thoughts are cut through.

“You're coming with us, I don't care.” Jisung speaks again, and his voice sounds mildly stable this time, somehow – at least as stable as he can manage. He's still visibly frayed, but his tone doesn't leave room for discussion.

Hyunjin looks for Felix for some reason, although when he does, he finds that the blond is looking at him the same way as the other two.

It's 3 against 1, so what chances does he have, really?

He closes his eyes, sighing.

“Fine.”