The chaos of the kitchen and living room had finally subsided, leaving behind a lingering tension that hung in the air. Seeking refuge, Minho retreated to the sanctuary of his room, the promise of a hot shower. The water enveloped him, washing away not just the grime of the night before but also the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Meanwhile, Seo-Jun entered the room, a ghost in the periphery, his presence a silent question. He settled on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the closed bathroom door, a silent vigil. Minutes ticked by, each one a drumbeat of anticipation. Finally, the door creaked open, and Minho emerged, a sculpture of raw masculinity. A towel was precariously slung around his waist, barely concealing his form, while another was in his hands, furiously working to tame his wet hair. He paused, a frustrated frown threatening to break across his face, but before he could utter a word, Seo-Jun's voice sliced through the air with a smirk. "Beautiful view. But it was going to be better if I could see its full version."
Minho's eyes rolled, a silent acknowledgment of Seo-Jun's return to form. "I can see he is perfectly fine now. The fever is long gone." he thought, the frustration face now fully formed while Seo-Jun's smirk deepened. With a theatrical sigh of annoyance, he turned away, heading towards the dresser, the movement highlighting the sculpted lines of his back. "What do you want?" he asked, the words laced with a familiar edge of exasperation. Seo-Jun's gaze, however, had drifted, his eyes tracing the planes of Minho's body, finally settling on a dark, angry bruise just above the towel line. The smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a flicker of guilt and a sudden, sharp concern. He rose from the bed, the earlier playfulness gone, replaced by a quiet intensity as he moved towards Minho. His voice, when he spoke, was a low murmur. "You have a bruise on your back." Minho frowned, confusion etched on his face. He turned, his eyes searching. "Where?" Seo-Jun's expression was a mixture of guilt and tenderness. "It's probably from last night in the car..." And with this, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the bruise, a gentle touch that spoke volumes of unspoken apologies.
The gentle touch, a mere brush of fingers against bruised skin, ignited a wildfire within Minho. A blush bloomed across his cheeks, a vibrant crimson that betrayed the carefully constructed walls of his composure. "You... remember..." he stammered, the words a fragile whisper, laced with a mixture of embarrassment and a hint of something more, a secret pleasure.
Seo-Jun, his gaze still fixed on the angry purple of the bruise, met Minho's reaction with a slow, deliberate movement. "Of course, I remember." he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the confined space. "I remember everything until we walked into the house. After that I can't recall anything." His words, a confession of sorts, hung in the air, a tantalising hint of the night's lost memories.
Minho, finally turning to face Seo-Jun, was a portrait of flushed vulnerability. The proximity, the shared history, the lingering scent of the shower – it was all too much. Seo-Jun, sensing the shift, the delicate balance of power, leaned forward, his hands bracing against the dresser, effectively trapping Minho in a cage of his own making. A slow, predatory smirk curved his lips. "But, besides the fever... last night was a hell of an experience."
Minho's blush deepened, a furious tide of redness washing over his face and neck. He recoiled, breaking free from the impromptu prison. "Only in your eyes! To me it was nothing special!" The words, a desperate defence, were a transparent lie, a feeble attempt to conceal the truth that blazed in his eyes.
Seo-Jun, seeing right through Minho, tilted his head, the smirk widening. "Oh, really? I vividly remember that you wanted more after I pulled back the first time. You even started moving your hip towards me on your own, wanting more. Also, you started to call out my name without me telling you to do that-" The words, a gentle prod, a playful torment, were enough to shatter Minho's carefully constructed facade. His face and shoulders now a fiery red interrupted him, a desperate attempt to change the subject, to regain control. "Shouldn't you be at work by now?!" he snapped, the words sharp, a desperate plea to escape the unbearable embarrassment of the moment.
Seo-Jun's grin deepened as he serenaded Minho and answered his question, "Yesterday, before we left, I told Sam that I wasn't feeling well and that today I will go to work in the afternoon." Minho confused, said, "You were feeling sick before we left?"
Seo-Jun nodded, the sunlight glinting off his dark blonde hair. "Mhm, but I wasn't feeling it so much until we arrived."
Minho's face shifted from concern to a mixture of shock and growing frustration. His eyes widened, and he ran a hand through his already messy wet hair. "He was fucking me so intensely with a fever?! This guy is really not good with the head."
Seo-Jun, seemingly oblivious to Minho's internal turmoil, simply smirked again, the corners of Minho's eyes crinkling with amusement. Seo-Jun leaned forward, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "But this didn't stop me from fulfilling my duty. As I saw it last night… you enjoyed it pretty much."
Minbo's cheeks flushed a furious red, the color spreading up his neck. He shoved Seo-Jun playfully, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation in his eyes. "I think it's time for you to go!"
Seo-Jun chuckled, stepping back and raising his hands in mock surrender. He watched Minho's flustered expression, the flush still vibrant on his cheeks, and a genuine warmth softened his features. "You are cute when you blush."
Minbo's blush deepened. "What's wrong with this guy?!" he thought, the words a silent scream in his mind. Seo-Jun, seemingly oblivious to the internal turmoil he'd wrought, simply let out a soft giggle, the sound a melody of amusement. With a final, lingering glance at Minbo's flustered face, he turned and slipped out the door, leaving the room.
Minbo stood frozen for a moment, staring at the empty doorway as if expecting Seo-Jun to reappear. Then, with a decisive shake of his head, he broke the spell. "Finally…" he muttered under his breath, the words a sigh of relief. He moved to the old wooden drawer again, the familiar grain of the wood a comfort against his fingertips. He pulled it open, his movements quick and practiced, and reached for the hidden treasure within: his phone. It was a sanctuary, a forbidden space where he could connect with his gang, away from the watchful eyes of Seo-Jun.
As he lifted the device, the screen flickered to life, a new message flashing across its surface. It was from Jin. "You should hurry up, Minho. Jae is running out of patience." The words were a cold splash of reality, a stark reminder of the stakes at play. Minho sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "I should at least give them something to win more time... anything will be fine..." he thought, his mind racing, searching for a solution. Closing his eyes, he let out a frustrated breath, the bad plan solidifying in his mind. "I really didn't want to do this, but... I don't have any other choice at this point..." With a final, defeated sigh, he began to dress.