The Mess We've Made | Minsung

chapter one-hundred three

Heading toward the edge of the pool, I adjusted my eyes to the bright afternoon sunlight. I stopped in my tracks when I heard the pitter-patter of Minho's small footsteps coming from behind me. I turned around and he approached me with sunscreen, "Baby, you need some of this. I don't want you getting burned."

I grabbed both of his cheeks and kissed him softly on the lips, "You're precious. Thank you."

"We don't want the scars on your back to get burnt, now, do we? That'll just make them last years longer."

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, "What if I told you I want them there forever?"

"And what if I told you that I don't care what happens to your back and that I just want an excuse to rub sunscreen on it?" Minho smirked at me, dropping the it to the ground and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I'd tell you that you're lying because you waste too much time caring about my well-being," I chuckled. "You got me to start telling you when I get to work because you're apparently scared that I'll get in a accident on the way."

"Car accidents are most likely to happen within five miles of your home. Of course I'm gonna be worried," Minho put his hand on my arm, a look of concern crossing his face.

I shrugged his hand away with a laugh, "I'm not even going anywhere right now. I was about to tan after swimming for a sec. I refuse to look anything like those weird Korean fan-site pictures that whitewash the fuck out of me. I feel like I'm very obviously not white."

"Your fans think you're white," Minho joked, mocking me slightly.

"Yeah and I take full advantage because I'm very obviously Asian if you just take one glance at me in your peripheral vision."

Minho laughed, "You go through every day what I went through at the beginning of my career before everyone realized that I'm actually just a filthy billionaire."

I pretended to fan myself off, "When he's self-aware."

Minho played along with me and pretended to hold out a microphone with his fist, "Han Jisung, what is it like being completely unproblematic?"

"Oh, it's amazing. Everyone loves me and I apparently can do no wrong."

"And how's it feel being America's Sweetheart?"

"Feels fucking amazing, thanks for asking."

"Ooh, that look was scary. I liked that."

"If this story was told from your perspective, it'd be a whole lot different."

"And you're saying it's told from yours?" Minho chuckled. "I'm interesting too. I'm a genius with numbers, you know."

"Oh, are you gonna write a story with numbers?" I mocked him, walking away from him to get in the pool.

"Oh, are you gonna write a story with your big words? Nobody's gonna get it."

"Maybe I'll write a story about how we murdered a bunch of people and got away with it," I chuckled.

"Two people is not a bunch. Hold on, now," Minho followed me in a haste. "We promised we wouldn't do it again. We're not that couple."

"I'll make it a bunch if I have to is what I'm trying to say. I'm not saying I want to go out and kill people for fun. I'm just saying that if people have to die to keep our secrets, I'm willing to make that happen."

"You? You've never even killed anyone."

"I'm just as responsible for Chan's death as you are." I swam to the ledge overlooking the hills, "Pretty."