more than enough ; minsung

the date (not really)

"I'm not ashamed of your job."

Minho sighs, wagging his hands like there's a bug. "Neither am I — just let me get into character. Hello, nice to meet you, my name is Lee Minho. I work as a realtor — where, you ask?"

"I didn't actually."

"Shush shush. My practice is outside the city, somewhere more rural. You probably haven't heard of it, but it definitely exists."

"Must be quite a drive." Jisung tents his fingers at his chin. "What kind of car do you have?"

"A... BMW."

"Why didn't you bring it today?"

"It's at the shop?"

"Why would you bring your car to the shop if you knew you had a wedding to attend?"

Minho slumps into his hands and groans "Stoppppp." That starts Jisung laughing, which makes Minho laugh too.

"It's fine," Minho declares. "People at the wedding won't ask so many — annoying — questions. I have a secret weapon."

"Which is?"

Minho is about to answer, but he pauses, pulls his phone out and presses it to his ear, index finger drawn like 'one second.'

Jisung waits.

Once Minho hangs up, Jisung asks "What was that about?"

Minho brandishes the phone. "My secret weapon. If I excuse myself to take a call, I don't have to answer any tough questions."

"You were faking just now?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Okay, that's actually kind of smart. And you're a rich successful realtor so it's believable."

"Exactly."

Jisung takes a sip of bubble tea. Minho takes a sip directly after him. From the same straw. Like it's nothing.

"What are you thinking?" Minho says then.

"Um."

"I mean about the wedding. Are you going to lie too?"

"Can't. Everyone who knows me would call bullshit."

"Right... everyone who knows you." Minho's mind is percolating. "Wait. I just realized I don't even know what you do. We should probably know each other a little better before we start" — he does finger quotes — "dating."

"Yeah... you're right."

"So? What do you do?"

"I'm a writer at Sound Monster, the label downtown. They pay me for songs and then pay somebody else to sing them."

"That's so cool. Do you ever hear your own words on the radio?"

"Nah, not really. One time my mom told me she saw my name credited in some Scandinavian movie, but I haven't been able to find it anywhere."

"You probably have mobs of fans in Scandinavia and you just don't know it."

"Doubtful." Jisung takes another sip, uncomfortable with Minho's easy compliments. "Okay, my turn."

"Shoot."

"What made you... Why do you... Uh, how are you..."

"I'm well, thank you."

Jisung clears his throat. Stop overthinking this. "When did you start dancing?"

"I don't know. Just always. I used to get detention for dancing in the hallways."

"Seriously?"

"That's Catholic school for you. When did you start dancing?"

"The moment I stepped in your classroom."

"Ah, that makes sense."

Jisung points his fork at Minho. "You."

"Me. Why'd you decide to take my class?"

Because he walked by and saw Minho through the window. "Your flyer on the tack board. What dances are you trained in?"

"Mainly contemporary, ballroom, Latin, and break dancing. Took ballet for years. A little tap. A friend taught me how to pole dance."

Jisung ignores that as well. "Why do you teach workout dances instead of just, dance?"

"Well. That's kind of a story."

"Go for it."

For the first time, Minho seems unsure. Less than absolutely confident. It's a little disconcerting.

"I used to have a studio in that strip mall by the river. It wasn't professional, no one was there to master the dances or anything, just to have fun. My favourite part of teaching was seeing people happy because they were trying, enjoying the music and each other. It was an all-ages, zero-judgement kind of thing with different dance styles every few weeks."

"That sounds great. What happened?"

"Landlord raised the rent. I was just scraping by, I had to stop paying myself, had to sell my car. I would've sold my soul, really, but... yeah. I couldn't save it." He shrugs, but Jisung sees the weight on his shoulders.

"So you at the gym isn't your first choice."

"It's not that I don't like teaching there. It's just not the same. The space isn't mine. The gym has a lot of weird rules. I can't bring snacks or crank the music, and I always have to teach the dances that burn the most calories, not the ones I'm excited about."

"You've tried to find a new studio, right?"

"Yeah, but the whole city is insanely expensive, and the cheap places are out of the question. I'm not making people wade through asbestos, or pay for a space where we can't even hear the music because there's a construction site next door."

Jisung frowns. He's probably years late, but all he wants to do is brainstorm and obliterate the problem.

"Anyway," Minho says. "I'm stuck with the gym for now, but it — it's fine. There are worse things in the world than having to share a space with yoga people. I assume."

"After we're done with my thing, I'm going to help you with yours. I don't know how, but I will."

Minho nods tentatively, like he doesn't want to crush Jisung's spirit. "All right. But I have more questions about the wedding. Where do you live? I'll walk with you."

Jisung smiles. "Okay. Great. Let's go."

—

The weeks tick down, and Jisung dreads the day of the wedding. Dreads it in confusing, heart-fluttering ways. Dreads it like he's about to die, but at least Lee Minho will be there to drag his body away.

Every Saturday he goes to class, and the two look at each other and smile like they have a secret. Once or twice they meet for lunch again, talking details, but eventually the details run out. Still Jisung suggests checking out the new noodle place down the street, because "hey, it's on me." Because spending time with Minho makes him happy.

Because he knows their alliance has an expiration date, and he's going to make the most of it.