Behind Closed Doors

Part 18

The past few weeks had been brutal. Endless rehearsals. Late-night recordings. Performances where they barely had time to breathe before being rushed to the next schedule.

And between him and Minho?
Nothing.

Well... nothing anyone else could notice.
For Jisung, it was impossible not to notice the way Minho's gaze lingered a little too long in the mirror during practice, the way his hand brushed Jisung's when passing a water bottle, the rare moment of silence between them that felt heavier than it should.

But there hadn't been a single moment like the one in Minho's room. Not one conversation that came close to those words. They hadn't even messaged each other about that night.

Every night, right before exhaustion pulled him under, Jisung thought about it.
What it would feel like to be in that space again, just the two of them. To hear Minho say it again, close enough for Jisung to feel the heat of it.

If he were lucky, maybe more would happen this time.

But every night ended the same way — with him cursing their insane schedules under his breath and waking up to another long day.

⸻

On their first rest day in forever, 3RACHA still ended up in the studio. Minho showed up anyway, a bag of home-cooked food in his hands, even though he looked just as tired as the rest of them.

For the hundredth time since he'd met Minho, Jisung felt that strange, unsteady tug in his chest.

Not because Minho had brought food — he did that many times — but because he'd still done it when no one would've blamed him for collapsing in his own dorm.

Changbin and Chan moved instantly, clearing space on the desk, setting out chopsticks.

Minho just smiled faintly, said he wasn't hungry, and turned toward the door.

Before Jisung's brain could even process it, his mouth had already moved.

"Wait, hyung... come with me to the vending machine. You can head back from there."

The hallways were dim and felt quiet after the muffled sounds of the studio, their voices echoing softly as they fell into their usual chatter about the new tracks, Minho's cats, and how Jisung missed the days when Changbin wasn't dragging him to the gym every other morning.

They stopped in front of the vending machine. Jisung reached for his card out of habit, but Minho was already sliding his in, pressing the buttons without asking, knowing their favorite drinks. He handed Jisung the bottle he always bought for him and held the other two bottles. Chan and Changbin's. He was going to walk back to the studio with Jisung, and the simple but thoughtful gesture lodged itself in Jisung's chest like a hook.

That was it. He couldn't hold it anymore.

"Hyung..." His voice was quieter now, almost swallowed by the hum of the machine. "These past weeks we've been so busy... have you been with someone? Like... you know..."

Minho froze. Not in shock, but in that still, unreadable way that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Jisung stared hard at his phone screen, as if checking the time had suddenly become the most urgent thing in the world.

"Finish your sentence," Minho said at last, voice soft, deliberate. Almost lazy.

"You can guess the rest," Jisung muttered, aiming for casual, missing entirely.

Minho's eyes didn't move from him. "You mean, I usually don't go this long without sex? That's what you're saying?"

Oh, no.