Chapter 4

"Here, listen to this one. I took the track we used last Wednesday and added a bridge section and this cool descant part. Check it out."

Chan pressed the spacebar on his laptop, filling their small office space with a bouncing, upbeat instrumental track. Changbin instantly began nodding along to the beat and responded with an appreciative "Ahh!" when the new treble line played through.

"Ohh, I like this one."

"Yeah. I do, too."

"What do you think, Jisung?... Jisung-ah? Hello?"

"Sorry—" Han said quickly, shaking himself back into focus. He cleared his throat. "Ah, uh, I like it, too."

"You getting enough sleep, Hannie?" Changbin asked. His tone was scolding, but his eyes were sincere. "You seem out of it."

"Ah, yeah," Han sighed, stretching. "It's just been a busy month, you know?" Their deadline for the upcoming music video filming was only days away, and they still had not polished this final song. Han's brain was swimming with all the new choreography they had learned, as well as the pages and pages of lyrics he had written along with 3RACHA. His body was sore from dancing and working out, his voice was sore from singing so much in the recording studio, and his heart was sore from… everything else.

But it was not his place to complain. All of the team members had been working incredibly hard. The stress and the schedule of their impending comeback was weighing heavy on all of them. Taking a deep breath, Han straightened. "I'm sorry guys. I'll focus harder. Can you play it again?"

Chan gave him a long look, the kind of look that made him look very much like an aged father, even though he was only three years older than Han. With a deep breath, he said gently, "I know it's been tough on all of us, but if you're going through something, Jisungie, you know you can talk to us, right?"

Changbin leaned forward, glancing first to Chan and then back to Han, nodding his agreement. Han looked back and forth between them and gave a small smile. These two men were two of his closest friends. They had been together long before even Stray Kids was conceived. He knew he could trust them with anything, even his very life, but he simply did not know how to address what was happening right now. He was scared to involve the group in this whole Minsung fiasco—though based on their almost casual acceptance of the fact that he and Minho had gone from being inseparable to estranged, he gathered they had some suspicion of what was going on.

"I know," Han said, "But I'll be okay. Just need some time." Chan and Changbin's expressions told him they were unconvinced.

Chan tongued his cheek in thought, then gave a resolute nod. "Hmm. Maybe we all need a little time – how about we take a break?" He stood, disconnected the flash drive from his computer, and closed it. "Changbin and I will go get some lunch, and you—" he handed the flash drive to Han. "Take this to the dance line so they can start working on that new bridge section, yeah?" Changbin shot Chan an inquisitive look.

Han took the drive curiously. "What? Are you sure the track is ready?"

Chan and Changbin passed glances back and forth between each other and Han. Chan stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I mean… I think it's fine. Binnie?"

"Yep, fine with me."

"Cool, so…" Chan gave Han an unreadable look. "Unless you have any changes you want to make, then you can take it down to Felix, Hyunjin, and Lino."

Han hesitated. It was not such a hard task, so why did he feel so reluctant to do it? It's not like Minho would be alone, and all he had to do was drop off a flash drive. He nodded hesitantly. "Sure."

Chan gave him a grin. "Alright. We'll see you in a bit. I'm thinking hot dogs."

"Ugh, yes!" Changbin whooped. "You're buying right?"

"Only Han's since he won't be there. You can buy your own."

"But Channie-hyung! Pretty please?"

Han laughed at their bickering as they left the room, with Chan yelling over his shoulder for Han to text him his order. Han instead exited the opposite way, filing down through to the other side of the building where the dance studios were. Along the way he measured his breathing, counting the seconds carefully for each inhale and exhale. It's going to be fine. You're just dropping off the flash drive, right? Right. No big deal.

But as he neared the SKZ room and could hear the music pumping inside, he felt flutters in his chest. He knew he would look more suspicious simply standing outside the door, so with a deep breath he pushed through into the room. Just talk to Felix. Or Hyunjin. Hand them the flash drive and go.

But when he entered the room, there was no Felix. No Hyunjin.

There was only shocked-looking Minho, panting and sweating and staring at him like he had five heads.

Fuck.

Chest heaving, Minho walked forward to his speaker and shut off the music. He lifted the edge of his shirt to wipe the moisture from his face and forehead, flashing a quick glimpse of his chiseled abdomen blinking across every mirror reflection in the room. Han quickly looked down, embarrassed. But why? He'd seen Minho's abs many times before…

"Did you need something?"

Han looked back up. Minho had his hands on his hips, and he appeared to be trying to slow his breathing. He must have been dancing incredibly hard. The tips of his hair still clung together with the sweat of his exertion. Han took a deep breath trying to steady his own racing heartbeat. "We finished the new updated track," he said, moving forward. "Chan added a new bridge section that will need steps."

He reached forward, extending the small flash drive to Minho, who shot him a distrusting look before accepting it. Minho leaned down to plug the drive in his own computer. His loose-fitting t-shirt, damp with sweat, hung limply on his frame, detailing many rippling muscles along his back. Han again averted his gaze, quickly adjusting to look instead at himself in the mirror—but his eyes strayed again, this time to the reflection of Minho's face, intently locked on computer screen. He admired Minho's perfect nose, his strong, square jawline. He had always been handsome, but he seemed to have changed somehow. Maybe he changed his hair? Han wondered. Had he really seen Minho so little that he couldn't properly even recall his appearance? The thought made him sad.

Minho pressed play on the song, but after just a few bars he clicked it off. "Dah," he tsk'd, "I'm not running lead on choreography for this one. This is Hyunjin's track." He pulled the flash drive out of the computer and replaced the cap. "He was just here. You barely missed him."

"Chan said he would be here."

"Chan?" Minho tilted his chin towards Han. He narrowed his eyes. "Chan called Felix and Hyunjin to go re-record some audio pieces. That's why they left just now."

"No, he just left with Changbin to go get hotdogs…?"

Han thought for a moment before his eyes rolled nearly all the way back. He groaned loudly. Chan, that sly son-of-a-bitch. He did this on purpose!

Minho, too, let out a humorless laugh. "What a jackass."

Han rubbed his neck nervously, not exactly sure what he should do. Obviously, Chan wanted them to have this time together, but Han did not feel prepared. He let his eyes wander, catching sight of Minho's reflection in the mirror. Minho, too, seemed confused by this revelation about Chan, and his face was skewed into an almost comical pout. Unable to contain himself, Han giggled into a wide grin, pointing at Minho. "You—ha ha!—Your face!"

Upon realizing what Han was laughing at, Minho grimaced, but Han's laughter was infectious. "Shut up!" Minho groaned, tossing the flash drive at Han lightly. He sounded irritated, but the smile playing on his lips gave him away.

Both men laughed at each other for a moment before slowly drowning out to an awkward chuckle. As they looked at each other, Minho's beautiful smile faded and his eyes dipped downward. "Ah," he sighed, "I'll, uh, let Hyunjin know about the new section in the song," he looked up at Han, "You were… just coming here to drop it off, right?"

"…Right."

Han walked a few steps and reached down to retrieve the projectile flash drive that had scattered across the floor. He turned slowly back to face Minho, rolling the drive over and over in his hand nervously. No… No! This couldn't be the end of it already. He'd finally felt like a human being again for just a few moments. Now they had to go back to pretending the other didn't exist?

Han could not take it. He quickly glanced back at the door to the hallway, making sure they were still in fact alone, before looking back at Minho—but then he could not handle Minho looking at him so directly, so he instead stared at the floor.

"Linoring?" he whispered tightly, "How are you… you know… how are you doing?"

There was a long, tensive pause before Minho's muted response.

"Miserable."

Han lifted his eyes to find Minho also staring intently at him. There was a long, terrifying silence in which Han could not read Minho's expression at all. His eyes roamed over Han, calculating something that Han could not figure out until—Minho moved suddenly. Glancing briefly at the door, he stood and grabbed Han by the elbow, pulling him firmly to a more secluded corner of the large room. Han noticed his grip was intense and his pace hurried across the floor until, in a just a few rapid steps, he turned to face Han and they launched into each other's arms.

Minho hugged him so tightly. Han tucked his head into Minho's shoulder, letting out an exhausted sigh. He felt weeks of anxiety and anguish melt instantly away as Minho's strong arms nearly crushed him. What a relief it was to know for certain that Minho seemed to have missed Han just as much as Han missed him. They did not speak for several moments, instead just quietly enjoying this desperately needed moment together. Together their bodies swayed slightly, gently rocking from foot to foot as they clung to each other.

"What about you?" Minho whispered, resting his chin on the top of Han's head. "How have you been?"

Han took a deep breath, taking in Minho's scent. Even after working so hard and sweating, he still had a clean, musky smell to him. Still swaying gently together, Han said, "It's been awful. I've been working a lot to keep distracted, but—"

He trailed off, somehow feeling embarrassed at just how pathetic he felt without Minho. It was like having Minho around and still working with him with the group was somehow harder than if Minho was just gone completely. They still had to work together, dance together, but they had not spoken to each other in weeks, had not been close to each other in over a month. They had a contractual responsibility to always stay positive, always put their best selves forward for the cameras—but behind the shiny lights and smiles, Han felt like an empty shell… until now.

Now he felt whole again.

Minho gave an affirmative sort of sound, pulling out of his hug to instead grasp at Han's upper arms. "Yeah, you have been working a lot," he teased, gripping Han's biceps, "Innie was right. Look at these things!"

Han snickered, unable to hold back his grin. "Shut up," he laughed, playfully trying to brush Minho's hands away, grateful to see Minho's own bright smile return. Minho jokingly continued trying to grab Han's arms again and again, while Han flailed around unsuccessfully trying to dodge. As a last resort, he turned his back to Minho, clutching his arms to keep them safe from Minho's groping. This time, Minho's long arms wrapped around his middle and he pulled upward, lifting Han's feet clear off the ground.

"Ah, no!" Han laughed, "Put me down!"

Laughing, Minho obeyed, but Han could feel his center of gravity dipping as Minho yanked him further and further downward, coming to land with a 'Hmph!' with their rumps on the ground. Minho did not loosen his grip but instead pulled Han tighter against him, nestling Han's back against his own chest. Han felt himself melt into the familiar position, leaning back into Minho and letting his head rest on Minho's shoulder. Minho's chin fell forward over his own shoulder, his eyes sliding closed in relief. This is how they used to sit together, usually during team meetings and mealtimes or just whenever they felt like it. It felt so perfectly normal they had just fallen right back into old habits, seeking the familiar warmth and comfort they found in each other.

Both men sat for a moment, enjoying the simple miracle of each other's company, before anxiety began to once again swirl in Han's chest. Minho talking about his muscles reminded Han of their last real interaction together, during Jeong In's VLive. Han chewed his lip self-consciously. He had to say it, before he did not have a chance to again:

"Lino-ah," he mumbled, "I'm sorry for what I said the other day, when I called you a pervert." Minho sighed against him, tilting his face away just slightly so that Han could not see him clearly. Immediately regretful, Han wrapped his own arms around Minho's as though worried he would let go. He continued, "The comments on the livestream…They were talking about Minsung. I thought I needed to—" he licked his lips, disappointed in himself for even having to explain, "I thought I had to say something that would stop the comments, you know?"

"Yeah," Minho mumbled. "I get it."

"I didn't mean it."

"I know."

Again, they sat in silence for a moment. Han traced lazy circles with his finger against Minho's wrist. He missed so much having this connection with someone. All their team members were physically affectionate together, but there was something so calming about the way Minho held him. It made him feel safe and secure. As he thought about it more and more, he felt his mood souring, turning from gratitude to anger. It just wasn't fair.

"This is fucking stupid," he mumbled darkly. "What's wrong with us sitting like this? Or hugging? Or even just being close to each other?" He grasped tightly to Minho. "We shouldn't have to hide around corners like rats. We haven't done anything wrong."

Minho took in a deep breath and nestled his face into the crook of Han's neck. When he exhaled, his breath gently tickled the sensitive exposed skin on Han's collarbone. Han swallowed dryly as goosebumps erupted over his skin from the sensation. "It's this stupid, homophobic company," Minho said. His whisper was sinister, expressing his own deep anger at the situation. "The dating ban doesn't even last for our whole contracts, but they use that as an excuse to cover up the fact that they just don't like two men being close together under their company name."

Han scrunched his face in disagreement. "Homophobic?" he asked, scoffing, "There's nothing even homophobic about it. We're just best friends. So what, we like to hug each other. Like, what's wrong with that? Chan goes around hugging everyone all the time. Hyunjin and Seungmin cuddle and lay across other members. We all do it, the whole team!"

Minho remained quiet while Han continued angrily, "And what? They want to punish us because we flirt together? Because I called you my 'husband' as a joke? It was all just a stupid fan-service, and they are reading too deep into it." He threw his hands out in frustration. "Everyone does dumb shit like that. We're always blowing each other kisses and slapping each other's butts and sitting on each other's laps, so why are you and I in trouble? If I go start cuddling with Felix next, are they going to threaten to fire him, too?"

It was all just so fucked up. The company loved the idols being physically affectionate with each other because the fandoms loved idols being physically affectionate with each other. It was an endless cycle. The company could rake in more and more and more money for fans tuning in to watch a group of grown men be cuddly together. Yet somehow, he and Minho were being singled out for being too affectionate? It just didn't make any sense.

Han melted back against Minho after finishing his angry rant, but Minho felt very rigid and still. He was still wrapped around Han's middle, but slowly he began to unwind himself. Han noticed the movement and turned to face Minho more fully. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Minho cleared his throat. With his arms now untangled, he awkwardly made to stand up, dislodging himself from Han's legs and arms. "We should be careful, though, you know?"

Han chewed his lip, terrified that they would now have to return to the horrible reality if ignoring each other again. He stood up, too. "There's no cameras right now," he said hastily, grabbing Minho's hand. "Come on, irinong," he pleaded.

Minho blinked, looking just to left of Han as though purposely avoiding eye contact. "I told you, Jisungie, there's always someone somewhere who might see something they disagree with." He took a shallow breath. "It's too dangerous."

"So what?" Han felt hopeless. "We go back to completely avoiding each other? Where we only interact at rehearsals? Where you can't even sit next to me at dinner?" He squeezed Minho's hand.

"It was too hard to sit next to you," Minho admitted quietly. He looked very sad and small. It made Han's chest ache.

"Then let's just agree we won't keep doing this," Han held tightly to his friend's hand, fearful of letting him go. "Let's just avoid cameras like they want, stop calling each other pet names or whatever bullshit they tell us to do—But in private, when its just us and the guys—we should at least be able to be friendly then. Please."

"It's not that easy, Jisungie," Minho pulled his hand away and began pacing. "It's too hard to go back and forth." He stopped a few feet away from Han, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes far away. "We have to focus on Stray Kids and our work. It's best for us to just stay away from each other."

"You don't mean that," Han said doubtfully, his gaze landing sadly on Minho's face. The words he was saying did not at all match his manner. Minho's usually strong shoulders were slackened, and when he turned away from Han it looked like he was wiping something from his eye. He could not leave Minho like this, both of them feeling tragic and lonely. Han couldn't stand it.

"Hey, hey…" he shushed, stepping forward and reaching out for Minho. "Look at me, yeah?" When Minho still turned his shoulder to him, Han became more determined. "Come on, look at me, Linoring," he pleaded. "I can't have you looking so sad and pitiful," he teased.

"Shut up," Minho uttered over his shoulder, but when he caught sight of Han's small, playful smile he couldn't help but smirk a little.

"Ah! I saw that!" Han said eagerly, which made Minho smile even bigger. Han felt flutters of excitement bubble upward into a childish giggle as he leaned around Minho's shoulder, trying to catch another glimpse of his smile. He couldn't help himself. He needed this happiness.

"Stop," Minho groaned, but he could not hide his grin any longer. Han was just too adorable. He made to walk away, turning his back on Han again only to nearly jump out of his skin with a childish squeak. Han had poked him in a particularly ticklish rib.

Minho rounded on Han to catch him laughing, and Minho tried hard to feign irritation. "I said, stop Jisung-ah!"

Han did not respond. Instead, he ducked quickly left and tagged Minho again in another ticklish spot on his side, making the elder of the two leap comically aside. Han laughed heartily, unable to contain himself. He felt like a giddy kid. Minho bit his lip in indignation. For a moment he looked to be contemplating something—and then without warning he retaliated, aiming a sharp poke at Han's own middle. Han snapped back just in time. "Oho, when did you become so slow, Lino?"

That did it. Minho seemed to forget his own determination to leave Han alone. A wide smirk spread across Minho's mouth. His eyes now looked bright and devious. Finally, Han thought. This was the real Minho. It was as if his best friend had suddenly come back to life. Darting and ducking as though in a dramatic battle, both men tried to keep tickling the other. Their horseplay had them racing around the room in wide circles and zig zags, their sneakers squeaking on the shiny waxed floor. Han was smaller and more agile, but Minho had quick reflexes. With a mighty leap, Han swung sideways and launched himself onto Minho's back, wrapping his arms and legs around Minho's torso and pinning his arms. "Got you!" he laughed triumphantly, but Minho would not concede. He leaned forward, causing Han to shout "Whoa!" before he tumbled clear over Minho's head and onto the ground. Attempting to protect his delicately ticklish areas, Han tuck-rolled away towards one of the walls and righted himself, turning to face his opponent—

Wham!

Han abruptly found his back slammed tight against the wall. Minho's hands had his shoulders pinned, and his larger, lankier body was blocking any chance of Han's escape. Han's brain raced to catch up as he gained his bearings, with his back pressed up against the cool, metal wall and Minho's hot breath crashing against his neck in rough pants. They were both breathless from running around, but Minho's breathing sounded especially strained somehow. Han could not see Minho's features, as his face was dipped and angled inward, his nose just barely brushing the edge of Han's shoulder. Han could only make out his own reflection in the mirrored walls, his face peaking out over the image of Minho's tall, lean body encasing his own. Immediately the atmosphere no longer felt playful anymore. Han could feel his pulse pounding thickly in his ear, echoed with the rasps of Minho's heavy breathing. His very body was shaking.

Slowly, as if moving through a thick fog, Minho leaned backward until his face was aligned with Han's, the tips of their noses almost touching. Both men stared intently at each other, their breaths harsh and out-of-time.

"I told you to stop," Minho whispered weakly, his eyes fixed on Han's.

"I-I'm sorry," Han swallowed. His throat was so dry all of a sudden. A tense, fluttering feeling began to build in his abdomen. "I was just trying to have some fun…"

Minho's breathing was still erratic, as though he could not force his body to calm down. His grip was almost painfully tight on Han's shoulders. With a shaky breath, he said hoarsely, "This is what I mean… I can't go back and forth with you like this." His gaze dipped, no longer looking at Han's eyes but instead lingering on something else. He looked lost deep in thought until he swallowed, lifted his eyes back to Han's, and said, "You need to stay away from me, Jisung."

Han bit his lip, feeling the tight grip of loneliness squeezing his chest. "No," he shook his head. "No. This is stupid." He reached for Minho, grasping onto his thin shirt. "You're my best friend."

A stiff, sad-looking smile tugged at the corner of Minho's mouth, and he ducked his head into Han's shoulder again. His body shook while he let out a quiet, humorless laugh. Han felt worried. This reaction was not what he was hoping for. This laughter felt lifeless and sad. "What?" he asked tightly, "Why are you laughing—?"

Minho's hands relaxed slightly and slid from Han's shoulders down to his elbows. He lifted his head again and pressed his forehead on Han's. He was so close Han could not even see him. It made his vision cross. "You don't get it," Minho muttered tightly, "You just don't get it, Jisungie."

He pulled his face away, and for a moment Han thought he was going to let him go and walk away, leaving their friendship in that room to die—but instead, Minho licked his lips and glanced downward. He shuffled one foot forward, pressing into one of Han's feet and coaxing it to move outward a little more. Han followed suit, wondering oddly why Minho was randomly adjusting his stance but then, with a shuddering breath, Minho lowered himself slightly, pressing the full of his body tightly against Han's.

And Han froze.

He could feel it clearly.

Minho's erection pressed firmly between his legs.

"Heol!" Han cried in surprise. Without thinking, he reactively pushed outward, sending Minho stumbling backwards. Han stared at his friend, trying to make sense of his racing thoughts. He couldn't string two words together; he couldn't remember how to use his legs or his arms. He just… stood there in shock. Minho, too, looked too stunned to speak. His shoulders rose and fell again and again as he tried but failed to steady his breathing. He could not look at Han directly anymore. His eyes darted anywhere in the room except in Han's direction. His ears were burning red and a new sheen of sweat started to glisten along his forehead and collarbone.

"Now you understand," he choked out, his Adam's apple dipping repeatedly as though he was trying hard not to vomit. "Now you know that it was never an act for me. I've always—" he hesitated, clearly struggling with what to say, "This is why you—y-you have to stay away from me." He looked downward, trying to disguise a traitorous tear that finally escaped down his cheek. He bit his lip hard. "I'm sorry, Jisung."

Han still could not form clear thought, much less words, as he watched Minho grab his laptop, bag, and the flash drive.

And then he was gone.

And Han was alone once again.