Chapter 45: The Weight of Realization

Minho was losing his mind.

There was no other explanation for it.

His body moved on autopilot throughout the day—going to class, responding to conversations, pretending like everything was fine.

But it wasn't fine.

Because every time he let his guard down, his mind went back to last night.

To the way Hyunjin looked as he slept.

To the warmth of his skin against Minho's lips.

To the way his chest tightened when Hyunjin mumbled his name in his sleep.

And now, Minho couldn't unfeel it.

Couldn't unwant it.

And that terrified him.

--

Minho sat in class, his pen tapping mindlessly against his notebook.

He wasn't paying attention to the lecture. He wasn't even sure he was breathing properly.

Because just a few seats away, Hyunjin sat with Jisung and Felix, chatting quietly as he scribbled in his notebook.

He was smiling.

Soft. Bright. Effortless.

And Minho hated how badly he wanted to be the reason for it.

His jaw clenched.

This isn't right.

His feelings—whatever they were—meant nothing. He had Seungmin.

Seungmin, who had been with him since the beginning.

Seungmin, who loved him.

Seungmin, who—

—who had been acting different lately.

Minho exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look away.

He needed to stop.

But when Hyunjin suddenly turned and caught his gaze, tilting his head in silent question—

Minho's heart stopped.

He looked away first.

--

Lately, Minho had been catching himself staring too much.

At the way Hyunjin's lips curled into a soft smile when he was deep in thought.

At the way his fingers danced effortlessly over his sketchbook.

At the way he instinctively leaned into Minho whenever they walked side by side.

He noticed everything now.

Every little thing.

Like now, when they were walking home together.

Hyunjin was still the same as always, talking about something Minho wasn't fully following. But Minho wasn't paying attention to the words.

He was focused on the way Hyunjin kept fidgeting with the hem of his sweater.

Minho frowned. "You're cold again, aren't you?"

Hyunjin blinked, surprised. "Huh?"

Minho sighed, already shrugging off his jacket before holding it out. "Here."

Hyunjin's eyes softened. "You always do this."

Minho rolled his eyes. "Just take it."

Hyunjin smiled before slipping it on. "Thanks, Minho."

Minho muttered something under his breath, but he didn't meet Hyunjin's gaze.

Because he didn't want Hyunjin to see the way his ears burned.

--

Dinner that night was quiet, but comfortable.

Hyunjin hummed softly to himself as he washed the dishes. Minho leaned against the counter, watching him.

"You hum a lot," Minho commented before he could stop himself.

Hyunjin glanced at him over his shoulder. "Do I?"

Minho nodded.

Hyunjin grinned. "It's a habit, I guess. I only do it when I'm in a good mood."

Minho paused. "Are you in a good mood now?"

Hyunjin nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Yeah."

Minho stared.

His chest ached.

--

Later that night, Minho was sitting on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

Hyunjin walked over, drying his hair with a towel. "Hey, move."

Minho raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I want to sit."

Minho rolled his eyes but shifted slightly to make space. Hyunjin plopped down beside him, close enough that their arms brushed.

Minho ignored the way his skin tingled.

They sat in silence for a while.

Until Hyunjin shifted.

And in the process, he lost his balance—his hand slipping as he tried to adjust his position.

Minho reacted instinctively, reaching out to steady him.

Except—

Their faces were way too close.

And before either of them could process it—

Their lips bumped.

It wasn't a real kiss—just the barest brush of contact.

But it was enough to make time stop.

Hyunjin gasped, his eyes widening.

Minho froze.

Silence.

Absolute, horrifying silence.

Then—

"I—" Hyunjin started.

Minho shot up from the couch like he had been electrocuted. "I need water."

And then he practically ran into the kitchen.

His heart was racing. His hands were shaking.

What the hell just happened?!

And why—

Why did he want to do it again?

--

Minho was still pacing the kitchen, trying to calm his heartbeat, when his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

Seungmin.

His stomach twisted.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Then he answered. "Hey."

Seungmin's voice was light, but there was an edge to it. "Hey, Minho. We haven't talked much lately."

Minho swallowed. "Yeah. Been busy."

"Busy with what?"

Minho's grip on his phone tightened.

There was something about Seungmin's tone. Something off.

Minho glanced back toward the living room.

Where Hyunjin was still sitting—his fingers touching his lips absentmindedly, looking just as shaken as Minho felt.

Minho turned away.

"I—" He exhaled. "We'll talk later, okay?"

Seungmin was silent for a moment.

Then—

"Okay."

And the call ended.

Minho stood there, gripping his phone, staring at nothing.

His thoughts were a mess.

His heart was a mess.

Because for the first time—

He realized he wasn't afraid of losing Seungmin.

He was afraid of losing Hyunjin.