Fashioned For Love | Minsung AU

Thirty Six

~~~~~~~~~~ 36 ~~~~~~~~~~

Minho

In the dead of night, the house was silent, wrapped in a peaceful stillness. But Minho couldn't sleep. His mind raced with thoughts, emotions swirling as he replayed the events of the day—the warmth of Jisung and his family, the love that had enveloped him, and, of course, his mother's cold visit.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, he finally gave up. Careful not to wake Jisung, who was sleeping soundly beside him, Minho quietly slipped out of bed. He pulled on a sweater and padded down the stairs, the soft glow of moonlight guiding him to the kitchen. As he neared the doorway, he stopped, hearing quiet voices. It was Jiho and Woosung, sitting at the kitchen table, speaking softly with each other. They didn't notice him at first, and Minho paused, unsure if he should interrupt. But then Woosung spotted him and waved him over with a kind smile.

"Minho," Woosung called softly, "couldn't sleep?"

Minho shook his head, feeling a little sheepish as he stepped into the kitchen. "No, I guess not. I didn't mean to intrude. I was just coming down for a snack."

"You're not intruding at all," Jiho said warmly, gesturing for him to join them at the table. "Come sit with us."

Minho hesitated for a moment but then nodded, taking a seat across from them. The table was scattered with a couple of mugs of tea, the steam rising lazily in the quiet. He folded his hands in front of him, feeling the comfort of their presence wash over him.

"We were just talking about the day," Woosung explained, leaning back in his chair. "It's been nice being here with you and Jisung. You two have really made us feel at home."

Minho smiled softly, glancing down at the table. "I'm glad. I've been worried about making sure everything's perfect for you all."

Jiho shook her head, her eyes full of understanding. "You've done more than enough, Minho. We've felt nothing but love and warmth here."

There was a pause, and then Woosung leaned forward slightly, his voice thoughtful. "We noticed earlier... after your mother left. That was hard for you, wasn't it?"

Minho's chest tightened, the question stirring the emotions he had tried to push aside all day. He glanced at Woosung, then at Jiho, who was watching him with kind eyes.

"It's always hard when I see her," Minho admitted quietly. "It brings up... a lot."

Jiho reached out and gently placed her hand on Minho's arm, her touch comforting. "You don't have to explain everything, but know that we understand. It's clear that there's tension there."

"It's... complicated," Minho began, his voice softer now. "My parents, they've never been supportive of anything I've wanted to do. My father, especially. He wanted me to go into the family business—finance, investment, all of that. But I never had any interest in it. Fashion was always my passion, and when I told him that I wanted to pursue it, he was... furious."

Jiho listened intently, her hand still resting on Minho's arm, a silent offering of comfort. Woosung nodded, his brow furrowing with empathy.

"He said I was wasting my potential," Minho continued, his jaw tightening. "That fashion was frivolous, beneath someone like me. He's always had this rigid idea of what success looks like, and I guess I never fit into that picture. Instead of trying to understand me, he... he turned his attention to my cousin."

Minho's eyes darkened at the mention of his cousin. The resentment that he'd tried so hard to bury was surfacing now, the painful memories flooding back.