just pretend.

7.

His head was resting on Seungmin’s chest, listening to the younger one’s soft voice, singing to the songs that echoed through the room, coming out of his phone. The gentle rhythm of Seungmin’s heartbeat created a comforting backdrop to the music, soothing Minho into a rare moment of peace. “Have you ever considered becoming a singer?”, Minho said jokingly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he felt Seungmin’s chest quiver from letting out a chuckle. The warmth radiating from Seungmin’s body only deepened the sense of closeness between them. “No, never”, Seungmin answered, sounding as sarcastic as ever, his tone filled with a familiar playfulness that made Minho grin. It was rare that Minho found someone with the same humor, someone who could match his wit and make the world feel a little less serious. He giggled at Seungmin’s response and felt the younger one’s fingers softly glide through his brown hair, the touch so gentle it sent shivers down his spine. “I saw you two kiss earlier”, Seungmin said suddenly, and Minho’s body tensed up. It shouldn’t matter, but in the end, it always did. Minho could feel the tension creeping in, the ease of the moment slipping away. He stemmed his elbow in the mattress and lifted his body, finding Seungmin’s eyes, trying to read his facial expression. “It was a goodbye”, he mumbled, feeling guilt spread within his body. He shouldn’t have to justify himself, yet here he was, the words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. Seungmin grinned, a small, almost imperceptible smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and gently stroked Minho’s lips with his fingertip, the touch both reassuring and unsettling. “I really don’t care, Minho”, he answered, his fingertip gliding over Minho’s jaw and neck, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Minho blinked, not sure what to answer, the casualness of Seungmin’s words clashing with the tightness in his chest. “Sooner or later one of us will get out of here, and then what?”, Seungmin asked, letting his arm fall onto the bed, the weight of his words sinking into the space between them. Seungmin’s words made his chest feel tight, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around the reason. The thought of them parting ways, of this fragile connection breaking, filled him with an unease he hadn’t expected. “You don’t wanna stay in contact”, he realized, his voice barely even a whisper as he bit on his inner cheek, trying to hide the hurt that crept into his tone. “Do you?”, Seungmin’s question lingered in the air, heavy and unanswered. Minho looked at him, and he didn’t know if the pain was showing in his eyes, but Seungmin’s features softened, and he slowly sat up, closing the distance between them. The shift in Seungmin’s look was almost imperceptible, but Minho noticed the way his expression became more gentle, more understanding. “I do, actually”, the younger one admitted with a soft voice, his words carrying a sincerity that Minho hadn’t seem coming. “But we can’t fuck around forever if you’re still in love with your ex.” Those words hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over him with an intensity that left him breathless. He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. What was he going to say anyway? That he didn’t love Jisung? That was a lie, and they both knew it. He still was head over heels for Jisung, even if he knew deep down that he had no chance with him. Jisung deserved to be happy, and Minho was certain that there wasn’t a spot for him in Jisung’s life anymore. He hadn’t done anything but make him sad in the past, and the guilt of that weighed heavily on him, and always will. “You can’t even deny it”, Seungmin said, pulling him out of his thoughts. The younger one’s voice was calm, but there was a hint of something else there. “It’s complicated”, Minho answered, feeling worse than before, the weight of his emotions making it hard to breathe. It was the truth, but it felt like a cop-out, like an excuse for the mess he had made of things. “I’m sure it is”, Seungmin’s tone was matter-of-fact, but Minho caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. Was it jealousy after all? The thought chew at him, sparking an urge to justify himself, to explain every little detail. He hated that he felt the need to defend himself, to make Seungmin understand a situation that he didn’t find words for most of the time. “His parents forced me to break up with him, and when I didn’t listen-”, he stopped himself, the memories rushing back with a force that made his stomach cramp. He thought back to his encounter with their bodyguard, the cold, ruthless efficiency with which the man had carried out his orders. Minho still felt the punches at times, the bruises long faded but the psychological scars lingering. He had stopped counting the nightmares, but they came often, reminders of a past he wished he could forget. His body had been beaten black and blue, and he hadn’t left his apartment for over two weeks, trying to heal from the physical and emotional wounds.