Into the Hornet's Nest

10

          After the confusing interaction passed, Minho easily acted like nothing happened. It baffled Han, who had riled the older up enough to see a new side to him. Han had originally only intended a game of chicken, wanting to embarrass Minho because of how the morning had played out. He had noticed his voice breaking while he was in the shower, smiling to himself where Minho couldn't see. Even though he had closed the door quietly, Han was able to hear it and inevitably learn that he had been lingering. It was a sound plan, until it suddenly wasn't. If Minho hadn't gripped him so tightly, it would have been a far more lighthearted interaction. If he hadn't moaned while Han was trying to make him squirm and laugh, he would have gotten off the boy's lap far sooner. If he hadn't flipped Han onto his back and used his weight to force his body into the couch, Han wouldn't have had a second embarrassing erection in the span of three hours. Unfortunately, that's how it had played out. So, with Minho talking to him in a normal tone and attitude, Han is struggling to keep up appearances. He wants to ask what he meant by 'ask next time,' or how he is able to flip his switch so easily. Han clearly can't, and it is honestly so unfair. 

          "Are you coming inside?" Han asks, hopping out of the truck. Han can be normal if Minho can. Minho blinks at him, looking at Han and then to the small white house. Just as Han is about to revoke the offer out of panic, Minho smiles and cuts the engine. Han smiles and shuts the door.
          The two of them walk up the gravel driveway, Han collecting the mail as they pass the hand painted mailbox. Minho makes a passing comment about it, Han hitting his shoulder with the small stack of envelopes. Han explains that his fourteen year old self had painted it and his grandmother never wanted to let him change it, so it stayed in all of it's brush stroke tye dye glory. Minho chuckles, telling him he likes it. Han just scoffs, telling him that he sounds like his grandmother.
           With that, they are walking up the small steps, potted plants hanging on either side of the porch light. Han unlocks the door and takes his shoes off outside the door, Minho copying his actions and looking around the perfectly air conditioned house. He sees a lot of art on the walls, plants in the windows, a small white cat hopping down from a chair and happily rubbing between their legs. Minho smiles, squatting down to pet it. 

          "Her name is Sydney." Han explains, mindlessly sorting through the mail and making two small piles on the kitchen table. "My best friend lives there." Minho nods, kissing the top of the cat's head and standing straight again.
          "Hannie?" A sweet voice calls, Minho smiling evilly at the useful nickname. Han calls back, a shorter woman appearing from a connecting hallway. "Jisung," She says, looking down at her paint splattered apron and stained hands. "I would have been far more presentable if you told me someone was coming." She chides, shuffling around to set down her apron and wipe her hand off on it. Minho's eyes follow her, smiling at the way her short hair bounces just like Han's does. Han tells her not to leave it there, kissing her head and taking it from the back of the wooden chair. He disappears, making a quick comment about putting it back before his grandmother ushers Minho to sit. Minho bows, sitting and folding his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry, what was your name?" She asks, already busying herself with making the three of them tea. Minho watches her, thinking about how similar her and his mother are.
"My name is Minho," He says, Han's grandmother turning and smiling at him. She holds up a tea box, setting it on the table for Minho to choose. "What can I call you?" He asks, thumbing through the different compartments of neatly packaged and labeled loose-leaf tea, glancing up as she speaks. 

           "Most people call me Honey, so please don't feel the need to be so formal." She smiles, Minho chuckling and nodding. When Minho sees her go to a stool to reach the kettle, Minho stands quickly and offers to get it for her. She waves him away, reminding him to sit. "You're a guest."
           Han comes back into the room, exclaiming and doing the same thing Minho had just done, taking the stool away from her and getting the kettle from the shelf. She frowns at him and waves her hand dismissively, taking the kettle and shaking her head.
          "I always put it there when I do the dishes, I forget she can't reach it." Han says to Minho as he sits beside him, Honey turning and pointing a finger at him. I can hear you, the finger implies. Han blows a kiss to her, which she reluctantly pretends to catch and put it in her pocket. Minho grins at the interaction. Han leans into his ear, telling him that the cups are all ones that Honey hand made. Minho gives him a wide eyed look, picking up one of the detailed cups and ogling at the tiny brushwork. A family of artists, he supposes. Minho makes sure to compliment the cups, each of them different enough to tell they were hand painted. Honey just smiles and thanks him, Han getting up to help her lift the full kettle once it whistles.

          Once they finish their tea and their brief discussion about who Minho is to Han and how they met, as well as how he is coincidentally fixing up Han's old house, Honey excuses herself to return to her pottery wheel before the open paint dries out. She waves the boys toward Han's room, Han scooping up Sydney and inviting Minho to step in before he does. Minho smiles at the tapestries and the cluttered desk that is overflowing with art supplies. He follows the string of color changing lights around the edges of Han's room, periodically changing between four alternating colors. Han sits on his bed, Minho paying too much attention to how the thick comforter dips under his weight. Sydney finds her way to a small bean bag chair, claiming it as her own as if yelling at Minho to sit next to Han. Minho decides to listen to the wise cat. His eyes scan over the many polaroids strung beside Han's bed, photos of him with his friends and his grandmother spanning themselves as a timeline all the way to older looking photos of what he assumes to be young Han with his parents. Sure enough, there is a photo of Han on the much newer looking version of the now tattered swing at the house. Minho can feel his expression soften, loving how sentimental Han secretly is. Han clears his throat, Minho looking at him. Han points to one of the photos, one of him and a red haired boy with freckles smiling in what looks like an airport.
           "That's my best friend, Felix." Han says, pointing out a few other photos of them together. "He has family out here, so I don't get to see him much when he makes the trip." Han smiles fondly at the photos, a hint of sadness making itself evident. Minho just nods, telling him he enjoys all of the photos. It makes Han grin, turning away from the wall and gesturing to the art desk. "I make comics sometimes. Nothing extraordinary." He says, Minho already making his way to look at the scattered papers. He looks through them, telling Han that they're all impressive even if he doesn't think so. Han blushes behind him, thanking him quietly and laying back on his stack of three pillows. Minho figures it should have been hinted that Han would be so artistic, the photo of the chalkboard from the restaurant they went to still in his phone and maybe on his social media that he won't admit to having. It makes something in him stir, nonetheless. 

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Expect more cameos, lovelies >:)