Why So Lonely? || Minsung 1/3 ✔️

56

"Wow is my favorite song," Minho says, his face red from laughing so hard.

I groan, "stop, no. Why do people even like that song? Why did we even make that song?"

"I don't know, but I love it," he laughs, squeezing my hand gently before pulling it into his own lap. He scans my hand, brushing it. "Your hand is so soft."

"Gosh, you're so random today. I don't use lotion, so I don't why they're soft."

"Maybe because angels are always soft," he states, "and you're the prettiest angel I've ever seen around."

"Alright, sunshine, if you want to play like that, then we'll play like that," I challenge, seeing how he was trying to become dominant again.

"What? I have no idea what you're talking about, angel," he says, sitting up in his seat.

"Oh, sit back down, sunshine. It's my day to take care of you, so go back in your soft mindset because you're not doing this today."

"Angel."

"Sunshine."

"Angel."

"Baby."

"Fine," he pouts, crossing his arms. "I just like taking care of you. I don't know what to do when I'm not taking care of someone."

"Then don't do anything, baby. You're fine. Sometimes you need to be taken care of, too. You don't have to be shy about being the bottom of the day either. I know you got really timid last night, but it's okay. Just don't try to be strong all of the time. It's okay to fall sometimes. I'll always be here."

He makes puppy eyes toward me, "you're so sweet. I love you so much, Sungie."

"And I love you, too, Min," I smile, taking our hands back and kissing the back of his.

It was nice being able to say that I love him out loud. I've always thought about it, but I didn't want to make it seem too early. He said it perfectly, and I'm thankful for that.

I don't think anyone really has a specific time for saying I love you. It's good to date someone that you love rather than like. Liking isn't bad, it's just a small step forward on knowing what you want from the other.

I pull into the parking lot, quickly finding a spot since it wasn't too packed. More people were at the Big Boy across the street.

We exit the car, connecting our hands on our way inside the smaller building. When we enter, we get a few stares. Anxiety hits me, dampening my mood.

Gay, faggot, disgusting.

Words rang through my head, automatically making me let go of Minho's hand. He looked toward me, but I didn't meet his eyes. We sat ourselves, waiting for a waitress.

His eyebrows furrowed in worry, "are you okay? What's wrong?"

I shake my head, "nothing, why?"

"Hey, communication, angel. Talk to me."

"It just felt like people were staring as soon as we walked in," I play with my fingers.

"Baby," he says, hesitating before he spoke, "they were. They're probably boomers. Don't worry, it'll be okay. There'll always be people who aren't accepting everywhere. We just have to deal with it and shove their opinions down their throat with some hot soup."

I giggle, "okay, Min. Sheesh, that dominance didn't last long."

"Poor angel. We can see who's the real dom at the end of the meal. Remember that dumb bro challenge where it's like, 'whoever the waitress gives the bill to is the top'? We can do that."

I roll my eyes, "you're gonna win."

"You never know. You always say I look soft. Maybe she could see you as a top."