Red Chrysanthemum - Minsung

Chapter 6

After Chan had shooed away most of his guests, he'd kept Minho behind to chat about the upcoming show and its choreography. The dancer had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't just about work, but he kept his thoughts to himself as usual.

He sat himself down onto the sofa, scrolling on his phone as he waited for the blond to finish up. The latter strolled over, a big dumb smile on his face. The brunet raised one sceptical eyebrow, looking up briefly from his screen.

"Who sucked your dick last night?" The nonchalance of the question threw Chan completely off guard, wiping off a part of his grin.

"No one." He mumbled in reply, sinking down next to him, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "Besides, you're one to talk, you gave Jisung a hickey. I thought he hated you or something?" He asked, turning the tables, taking back his advantage. Minho put his phone down, needing to use his undivided attention to answer him.

"First off : I was drunk and high off my fucking arse. Second : he hates me, I don't dislike him, although I think he's a bit of a twat if I'm perfectly honest. And third : he's like not at all my type. Actually..." He hesitated, pondering for a few moments on the matter, "I guess he's my type? I mean yeah, maybe. Anyway, not the point! Third : no, just no." He finally stated, his confidence coming back full force. Chan nodded in acknowledgment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Minho blinked in slight disbelief, was he even paying attention?

"HelloOoo, earth to Chan." He said, as he waved a hand in front of his lost gaze, snapping him back to reality. He looked at him expectantly, waiting for whatever he had to say. "What's on your mind?" Minho asked very seriously, any hint of playfulness had gone, replaced by a rather somber look in his eyes.

"Uhhh... nothing in particular." He blatantly lied, rubbing a nervous hand on his neck, smiling sheepishly. Minho didn't pry further, understanding his need for privacy. The blond sighed, sinking deeper into the plush cushions, the dark circles under his eyes a full display of his lack of sleep. The dancer opened his mouth to speak, but Chan cut him off, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"I was actually thinking about uhhh... about your friend, Hyunjin?" The brunet blinked, closing his mouth, his words dying in his throat. He leaned forward a little more, his eagerness asking him do so subconsciously.

"Is he...? You know what, never mind, it's fucking awkward." He laughed nervously, losing all of his courage. The choreographer's scepticism grew, but he didn't dig any deeper. It's up to Chan to decide if he wants to tell him about anything private.

"Anyway, you wanna see the choreo?" Minho offered, changing the subject before it went too far into the realm of awkwardness.

"Sure!" He agreed, looking over his shoulder at the video Minho had prepared as a draft of their performance.

*~~~*

They decided on a final version of the choreography, although they hadn't modified a lot of it, staying mostly loyal to the original. They both learnt a big part of it, but they needed to practice it with the others and Minho would guide them through the dance moves, making sure they performed with perfect precision and form.

"So uhh... should we send it to the others? Or spring it on them tomorrow?" The brunet asked, a sneaking suspicion of what this could possibly lead to.

"Oh shit, yeah. You have the video on your phone, right?" Asked Chan. The dancer nodded, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as he began predicting where this could possibly be going.

"So I'll just add you to the group chat!" The blond exclaimed excitedly as a small knot of dread made itself known in the pit of the brunet's stomach.

"What's your number?"