"Hyung, wasn't the performance amazing? You looked absolutely stunning!"
Felix's voice was filled with excitement, but the older one wasn't in the mood.
"Thanks. You did too," he mumbled, spinning his chair to face his reflection in the mirror.
His outfit matched the song's soft, dreamy concept. Pure white fabric draped over him, with fur lining the hood of his top, making him look even softer than he actually was. Contrasting that, his dark, messy strands fell over his eyes, adding a sharp edge to his appearance.
Small shimmering crystals adorned the area around his eyes and the bridge of his nose.
He looked breathtakingly beautiful—so much so that it defied the idea of personal taste.
"Hyung, what's wrong?" Felix asked, concern creeping into his voice.
"He probably fought with him again," the tallest among them spoke through a mouthful of snacks, stuffing his face without a care.
Minho shot his friend an unimpressed look, only to receive a challenging stare in return.
"What? Are you going to defend your idiot boyfriend again?"
Minho sighed, shaking his head.
Yes, his boyfriend was an idiot. There was nothing to defend.
But more than that, there were pressures Minho couldn't share, burdens he refused to place on his friends.
Being the eldest wasn't easy.
A buzz pulled him from his thoughts. His phone screen lit up with a familiar name, one that immediately softened his expression. Smiling, he picked up.
"How was the performance, baby? Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes, it was fun." The younger answered with a foolish grin, pointedly ignoring the judgmental stares from his friends.
"Mm? Really?" The voice on the other end sounded unconvinced.
Minho couldn't fool him—not even over the phone.
"Okay," he exhaled before admitting, "You know."
"I do," came the gentle reply. "That's why I'm waiting for you outside."
Minho shot up from his chair. "Really?!"
"Five minutes!" he shouted before sprinting to the dressing room.
Minutes later, as promised, he emerged, waving briefly to his friends before dashing out of the building. Sliding into the front seat of the car, he grinned.
"Hi."
Chan greeted him with the same smile. "Hello, baby. Happy to see me?"
Minho nodded eagerly.
"What about a kiss, then?" Chan tapped his cheek expectantly.
Minho rolled his eyes. "So everyone finds out I'm dating the company's top producer? Yeah, no."
"That would be the happiest day of my life.
Everyone would burn with jealousy, and the whole world would know you're mine—my baby, my darling."
"You—!" Minho sputtered, his cheeks flaring red as he smacked Chan's thigh.
"I am not a baby or darling! Stop using those words."
Chan couldn't see his face since he was turned toward the window, only the messy strands of his dark hair.
But he knew exactly what he looked like.
His soft features would be dusted with a pink flush, the tips of his ears tinted the same shade.
"You may be their hyung, but you'll always be my baby and my darling."
"Oh my god, stop," Minho whined, burying his face in his hands while Chan laughed at how adorable he was.
---
"What do you want to eat?"
"Nothing. I'm not in the mood." Minho flopped onto the bed, hugging a pillow to his chest.
Chan sat at the edge of the bed, pulling Minho's feet into his lap.
He started massaging them, pressing firmly until Minho groaned in relief.
"Ah, damn."
Chan chuckled, continuing his work until Minho's whines turned into louder sounds.
"Ah, yes, a little higher—"
Chan followed his instruction, kneading his thighs instead.
Minho had been preparing for this performance for weeks. Chan knew just how exhausted he was.
But the moment Minho let out another drawn-out sigh, he quirked a brow.
"Your sounds are ruining my pure intentions, baby."
Minho laughed, completely unbothered. "And what exactly are those intentions?"
"Mm… making you feel better?"
Minho gave him a look—one Chan knew all too well. That playful, side-smirk kind of look. Then, he caught his bottom lip between his teeth.
"That can mean a lot of things," Minho murmured, voice dripping with something dangerous. "How about you take advantage of one of them?"
"Mm…" Chan hummed, shifting. He pushed Minho's legs aside and leaned over him, caging him between his arms.
"Make me feel better."
Chan's lips ghosted over his ear, trailing lower.
"Don't worry, baby. Hyung will take good care of you."
---
"I told you, I'm not hungry," Minho pouted.
Chan gave him a knowing look as he pulled takeout containers from the paper bag.
"I know you crave greasy, unhealthy food after long workdays.
Don't deprive yourself."
"What can I say? You already know everything."
"I might be an idiot, like your friends say, but no one knows you like I do."
---
And all your friends say I'm a fool
Maybe they're right, but they don't know you like I do.