“Minseok-ah…Minseok-ah, c-can you he-hear me?” their manager’s panicked cries pierce his ear as he strains to communicate over the faltering connection. Minseok grimaces and shifts about the room in his hunt for a decent signal. “Miseok-ah, car’s broken down. We’re stuck here on the road, waiting for a tow, and then we’ll have to stay in the nearest village till it’s fixed. I’m sorry, but you two will have to wait for us there. Everyone’s in panic mode; the schedule’s a complete mess. I don’t know how we’ll rearrange it… Take care of yourselves and try to keep as warm as possible, okay? Minseok-ah, Minseo –“  

He presses the deadened phone to his forehead, squeezes his eyes and huffs in helpless frustration. Damn, damn, DAMN! NOT Oh Sehun, PLEASE! His vexation serves as a furnace as it spreads through his small frame, combatting the icy atmosphere within the mal-heated hut in which he and his group-mate of four years and junior by the same, Oh Sehun, are holed up, all but silently awaiting the return of their manager and partners in a pictorial that’s sent them from the concrete jungle of Seoul to the meandering South Korean countryside – Kim Junmyeon and Byun Baekhyun.

It had all been going quite well. Despite the near freezing weather, the remoteness of the location and the relative complexity of the shoot’s concept, they had gone through the process fairly painlessly. Since he had Baekhyun to keep him company during idle moments, he scarcely felt the day elapse – they worked some, played some, ate some and it was done. Only on their way back to the capital, as they were passing through one of a handful of villages scattered along the byroad their guide had recommended for a shortcut, their transport wheezed and coughed and promptly flat-lined.

By some miracle they were able to procure a room in the village’s only boarding-house, the son of whose owner was even so kind as to offer he haul their van to the nearest mechanic – an hour’s drive from the  small settlement. Given the direness of their situation – the pointlessness of sending for transport from Seoul and the reluctance of the appropriately-equipped locals to make the ten hour journey to and fro the city under such weather conditions – their manager decided to take him up on his offer. Minseok and the others should have all stayed behind together and used the chance to catch up on some much needed sleep when it was clear that the best they could hope for, once the van had been fixed, was to make it to Seoul in the nick of time for their following schedule. But Baekhyun and Junmyeon insisted on accompanying the two, and Minseok found himself stuck in a cold room in the middle of nowhere with the one person who, willingly or otherwise, will invariably get on his nerves nine out of every ten times wherein they occupy a single space. It had to break down, didn’t it? I’ve heard of the blind leading the blind, but this is ridiculous – a tow to tow the tow…

He peers at Sehun who’s bundled up in his faux-fur-lined parka, his ofttimes expressionless face made all the more so by the chill and the general wretchedness of their circumstances, and sighs. Alright, calm down, it doesn’t have to be that bad. He can’t help it that he’s annoying, he doesn’t do it on purpose.

If one were to ask Kim Minseok just what it is about EXO’s maknae that so riles him he’d have trouble producing a convincing explanation. It’s nothing in particular but it’s everything – the boy’s very presence suffices in throwing him off his meticulously maintained balance. Sehun isn’t a bad sort. He loves s, he even prays for them. He does his work and helps the others with theirs where and when he can. He doesn’t talk too much or make a show of himself, unless the occasion necessitates it. He has a fair sense of humour and a fair amount of sense. The others like him, Junmyeon, Baekhyun and Chanyeol in especial, they room with him, play with him, care for him as that which he is – their maknae, their youngest brother. Shouldn’t he do the same, feel the same? What harm has Sehun ever done him? Minseok can’t even recall a time when the younger has failed to address him as Hyung. And yet, if he so much as glimpses Sehun outside of their working hours, the blood in his veins will heighten in temperature, and then he must reach for a cooler– most often Baekhyun – or slowly boil over. However, the thing that annoys him even above Sehun is the fact that Sehun annoys him at all.

Can’t be helped, he resolves, walks up to the sofa and settles by the younger. Sehun doesn’t stir, doesn’t give a single sign of life, the least acknowledgement of the elder’s proximity; he simply sits there and blankly stares into space. That’s rare. He’d have at least tried to strike up a conversation by now. Okay, so I don’t exactly cooperate when he does, but still… He shrugs his shoulders and flicks on his phone instead. No signal. Tsk. I’ll listen to a bit of music and then try to get some shut-eye.

“Hyung,” Sehun abruptly starts just as Minseok touches his finger to the playlist icon, “you don’t like me very much, do you?”

The elder checks – at the suddenness of the address, its unexpected content, above all the manner in which he makes it, disconcertingly calm. Briefly he considers denying it. The boy is his colleague, after all, and the two have years of joint labour ahead of them, admitting his dislike could only result in a strenuous working relationship and this, at least, he’d rather avoid. Yet Sehun’s very calmness compels him to confess, “No.”

“Why?” Sehun chases, his air unaffected.

“I don’t know,” Minseok further fesses, “something about you just irritates me.”

Sehun’s right brow twitches, though his face remains otherwise fixed. “Is it my height?” he taunts without taunting, knowing the elder’s susceptibility to the subject.

Minseok concedes it easily, “Amongst other things.”

Sehun blinks in slow motion, the apples of his high-boned cheeks rounding a fraction. “I see.”

“That I see being one of them,” Miseok evenly elaborates, drawing a smirk from the younger, “and that smirk being another.” Then adds, “You know, people who think they’re clever rarely are.” 

At last, Sehun turns to him, his features now fully animated, and says, “Well, I think I’m an idiot, does that make me a genius?”

Despite himself, Minseok smiles. “No, it makes you an idiot.”

Sehun’s grin widens. “I see.”

There it is. I can’t stand that smugness, that cleverer than thou expression of yours. Why are you? How?! You had the exact same face on when I first met you and it’s only gotten worse since. He bites his cheek and arches his angled eyebrows, matching the younger slant for slant. “You know, I used to wish I’d been placed in EXO-K instead of M, but then I look at you and…not so much.”

Sehun chuckles, drier than chalk, knits his brow and purses his mouth in mock-dismay. “I wish our Aegis could hear you now – break their innocent little hearts, their Uminnie-oppa being so heartless to their Sehunnie-oppa.”

Minseok is taken aback. Half-jeeringly, half-wonderingly, he asks, “Are you offended?”

The younger shakes his coppery head, his countenance curiously contented, as he replies, “Why would I be? It’s a thin line between hate and love, right?” 

The elder slightly flinches, though at what he is uncertain. “Well, I don’t hate you, no need to exaggerate.”

Sehun angles his head, his stare empirical, his tone redolent. “Do you love me, then?”

Don’t fall for it, he’s just bored and we’ve nothing else to play with. “This isn’t like you.”

“What am I like? Irritating, stupid…anything else?”

With greater solemnity than is due the younger, Minseok considers the question, and finally acknowledges, “I don’t know.”

Sehun is satisfied. “That’s right, you don’t. You don’t know me at all, and yet, for some reason, you dislike me. Is it instinct? If so, what does it tell you?”

Keep away from him, he’s dangerous. He thought so the instant he laid eyes on him, this boy who was his opposite in both aspect and character. Minseok envied him instantly, his form, his aura, the things that seemed to come to him as easily as breathing, while he had to sweat for them. He didn’t ask why Sehun had been chosen for the training program, whether he was a vocalist, a rapper, a dancer or a Jack-of-all-trades – none of it mattered. If he had been deaf and dumb, it would not have mattered. He was born for it – to be looked at, admired, desired, the sort who by their mere presence can enthral not one but multitudes. Not me. You can have all the others, the members, the managers, the fans, but not me. I don’t like you, Oh Sehun, I won’t. If it kills me, I won’t.  “It tells me, Keep clear of that brat; he’ll only get on your nerves.”

Sehun straightens in his seat, tilts and levels his head. “Well, as long as I can get on something…”

For all his efforts, the elder can’t conjure a retort. The younger’s speech, his conduct are too mind-bogglingly ambiguous. Words are wind, let’s leave them to it. He reopens his mobile, hopeful of a sign, and duly curses under his breath at its nonappearance.

Sehun rises from the couch, peeps out the frosted window into the still snowier night, rubs together his hands and blows on them. “God, it’s freezing! How much longer before they come for us?”

“I don’t know, but stop whining, it only makes it worse.”

“Am I getting?” the younger enquires as he retakes his seat, if a few inches nearer the elder.

“What?”

“On your nerves?”

“Yes, you are,” Minseok confirms, his tone cooling as his head hots up.

The younger beams – a bit too bright for comfort. “That’s good, then; nothing worse than indifference.”

The elder’s catlike eyes narrow suitably. “You do it on purpose, is that what you’re telling me right now?”

Sehun considers him with genuine surprise, so that Minseok self-questions what he might have missed, when, where and how. “I thought that much at least went without saying.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a clever man,” replies the younger, his air atypically absent acerbity.

The elder shakes his auburn head, now truly curious.  “No. I mean, why do you do it when you know I’ll only get mad? If you want my attention, then –“

“Just ask for it?” Sehun interjects, and mirroring Minseok’s gesticulation, reminds, “I’ve tried that before, remember? Doesn’t work.”

He can’t deny it. No matter his tone, tactic and timing, in approaching the elder, Sehun would, at best, be met with mild-mannered disinterest, at worst, a glaring cold shoulder. He knows it’s unfair, uncivil, untrue to his character; he knows that he ought to apologise, make a fresh start with Sehun for the good of them all, but he can’t. I said I wouldn’t. “Well, you should have given up, then, and accepted that we could only ever be colleagues.”

Simultaneously the younger shakes his head and shrugs, his expression oddly rueful, as he says, “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like you…Hyung.”

I know you do, but why? Thinking out loud, he remarks, “That’s also unlike you – liking those who dislike you,” and promptly realises he may know more of the boy than indifference would allow.

His face a reflection of the elder’s newfound awareness, Sehun concedes, “That’s true. I rarely like those who do like me, never mind those who don’t. But since every rule must have an exception, let’s say the exception to this is you.”

Minseok snorts. “Well, aren’t I blessed?”

The younger’s features soften. “Very,” he says and the unaccustomed poignancy of his tenor pricks at the elder’s resistance. 

He frowns and shifts in his seat. “This is weird.”

“Which part?”

“All parts. We shouldn’t be talking this much. It’s cold enough as it is and we’re wasting precious body-heat, not to mention sleep. Yes, sleep – let’s do that,” Minseok resolves and starts to get up from the sofa. Sehun’s following query sends him slipping back onto it.

“Should we reproduce it?” 

“What?”

The younger bites his cheek and inhales through his teeth – a mark of subtle frustration. He edges closer to Minseok, and levelling his gaze to the elder’s, says, “Those who think themselves clever rarely are. But idiots see things clever men don’t, and I see you, and you’re a bit too clever for your own good…Hyung.”

Minseok swallows hard. Sehun’s speech makes no more sense than does their current state, than does anything that’s happened from the moment their van broke down to the moment Baekhyun and Junmyeon decided that they simply had to follow their manager on his quest to repair it. Clever men? Idiots? Heat reproduction? Is this some elaborate mind-game to see if he can drive me crazy once and for all? He wants to believe that it is, because the alternative… “Are you doing it again – trying to get on my nerves?” he demands, his veins quickly nearing their boiling point. “Because you already have my attention, so there’s really no need –“

“It’s not your attention I want, though,” Sehun counters, all the time inching nearer the elder, “and not your nerves I’m trying to get on.”

“Oh Sehun!” Minseok exclaims as they brim over, but the younger isn’t scathed in the least as brashly he chases:

“Stop being vague? You can’t get mad afterwards.”

Minseok huffs and screeches, “You’re doing my head in! Just say what it is you’re trying to say and get it over with!”

The expression produced by the younger at this, Minseok recalls having seen but only once in the past, approximately thirty seconds within their first coming into view of one another seven years previous. Sehun was then a child, four years his junior at an age where such a difference is marked, but he studied and smiled at the elder as though he were prey to be fattened for a future hunt. Keep away from him, he’s dangerous – wasn’t that what you thought?

“Ne, Hyung,” the younger mutters smugly, then his lips and sinks them into Minseok’s.

In his stupefaction, the elder reflexively gapes, carelessly inviting the younger to further abuse the hospitality he was never extended to begin with. He kisses him unreservedly, as though merely indulging in what has always been his, as though he – Minseok – with all his years of resistance, of refusing Sehun’s least advance, let alone any claim on his person, had already been captured by the younger the moment he determined to outrun him. You can’t! he wants to scream at him, hit him, push him away, but those lips, that tongue, that taste at last compel him to look, admire, desire, and he knows that Sehun can sense as much. Somehow he manages to free himself of the younger, if only long enough to glare at him and say, “I hate that smug face of yours, you know that?” Then he clutches Sehun by the hair and kisses him as though he were the predator and the younger his well-fattened prey.

“On Second thought,” Sehun muses as he rids first himself, then Minseok of their parkas, “I think I’d rather have you on me instead,” then pulls the elder onto his lap so that he straddles him. He claws at his jumper until he catches its hem and slides his frozen hands underneath it. Minseok jolts at their iciness, but finds that they melt at astonishing speed as they move up his torso and onto his chest, working his s that are already hardened with the cold to further rigidity, his breath to shortness.

“We’ll freeze if we take off our clothes in here,” Minseok pants, then reddens at the recognition of his readiness to do just that. 

“That’s rare,” Sehun reviews at the blush, his smile enhancing it, “your coyness is usually contrived.”

The elder arrests: few have ever accused him of the same and all of them a deal more observant than this man-child. “You can tell? Just like that?”

“Not just like that; I look at you. I’ve been looking at you for a long time. You’re almost the opposite of how people make you out to be – a difficult man. Good thing I like a challenge,” he supplements, his expression growing slyer as it sweetens. “We won’t freeze – it’s reproduction we’re here for, remember?” He peels off Minseok’s woollen jumper and promptly folds his arms about his toned torso, armouring him against weather he no longer feels. He nibbles at his plump lower lip, the base of his jaw and sweeps his own the length of the elder’s neck, slowly and methodically retracing his steps until their mouths again meet. Minseok’s skin prickles at the younger’s touch and for the first time he’s grateful for the cold that serves a scapegoat for the same, lest the boy should grow smugger still. Abruptly Sehun rises from the settee. The elder’s legs lock round his hips mechanically, his arms about his nape. Kissing him still, Sehun blindly carries Minseok to the small old-fashioned bed and lays him atop it. He takes off his sweater and the elder’s chest wrenches in envy. Impeccably built, the sort of framework industry can refine, but never breed – long, lean, effortlessly elegant – the sort he’d always craved for himself. Minseok considers him a moment and at last decides that if he cannot have the younger’s body, being had by it may not prove all that bad.

“What?” Sehun probes at the elder’s probing stare, his own no less exploratory.

Deflecting, Minseok shakes his head and says, “I thought you liked girls, that’s all.”

The younger sniffs. “I don’t dislike them, but you’re a deal prettier than most and not half as easy.”

Gratified, Minseok returns, “Good thing you like a challenge.”

“Good thing you are one,” Sehun concludes as he pulls at the hems of the elder’s jeans and deftly removes them and shortly his own.

His matter-of-factness in handling the elder alerts Minseok of Sehun’s awareness of his experience. I look at you; I’ve been looking at you… That closely, Sehunnie? And not a word of reproach either…or are you relieved it isn’t you who has to break me in? “It won’t work like this. We need something –“

The younger reaches for his trousers that are strewn on the edge of the bed, and from their back-pocket produces a thin cluster of sachets Minseok instantly recognises as lubricant.  He bites his lips and wryly chuckles at the realisation of their current seclusion having been somehow orchestrated by Sehun himself. “Premeditated, is it?” he verifies, characteristically spiking his eyebrows.

The younger mirrors him as he admits, “Has to be, if you mean to get away with it.”

And they say the maknaes are supposed to be the cute and innocent ones… Well, Oh Sehun-ssi, oral preparation will only get you so far…or didn’t you know that? Minseok slips out of the bed and comes up to Sehun, takes the cluster from his hand and sets it aside, then sits the younger on the edge of the bed and hunkers down between his legs. Sehun is somewhat staggered, but his surprise is soon replaced with fevered fascination as, neatly, the elder relieves him of his boxer-briefs, and wraps around him first his fingers and then his pretty mouth. Within seconds the boy’s breathing hastens, he pants and faintly grunts. The more he strains to mute his voice, the fiercer Minseok’s desire to hear it becomes. Subconsciously he’s always felt himself at the mercy of the younger – let him have a mouthful of his own medicine for once. Sehun’s pants grow louder, his grunting deeper. Slowly he slides onto his elbows and finally his back as Minseok manipulates him with his trademark meticulousness. Safely out of sight of the younger, the elder reaches for the sachets and nimbly opens one. He spreads the substance thickly onto his fingers and begins applying it – the sensation’s nothing new, but the coldness of it invariably makes him flinch. Careful of driving the boy too far, he relaxes himself with unusual quickness. Sehun isn’t small, and the pain might be more than he’s known in a while, but the promise of pleasure…

He gets to his feet, leaving the younger breathless and flushed, then climbs onto the bed and Sehun. Slowly he eases him in, wincing at the familiar, if unfamiliarly augmented, bite. The younger watches him through glazed slitted eyes, his pinkish mouth engorged and ajar, his body taut. A cat in heat, Minseok reflects and has to bite his cheek to keep from smirking in triumph. He repositions himself until he finds his sweet-spot, yet the instant he does, Sehun grasps his waist, flicks him over and pins him down. 

“On third thought,” he says, his expression suddenly and alarmingly alert, “I think I’d rather have me on you, after all.” Minseok shudders twice – once at Sehun’s ensuing grin, and again at the force of his .

Illogically, the boy knows what he’s about. Minseok cannot reason for it. Assuming Sehun has had previous practice with whatever number of women, pleasuring a man and an experienced one at that is a feat few can manage and none at first attempt. Yet, as he moves, the elder melts. His legs tighten round the younger’s body, unconsciously spurring him on.  Sehun doesn’t need telling twice, he props himself on his elbows and readily increases his pace. Minseok convulses and gasps, muffled moans escaping his lips at rapidly decreasing intervals. He wants it to end. He wants it to last. He wants to feel it in full, not merely through Sehun. He slips his hand under the younger’s abdomen that’s pressed against his own, but Sehun catches it and shakes his sodden head. “No,” he mutters breathlessly, “I’ll do it for you.”

Drawing Minseok onto him as he goes, he sits back on his knees and takes the elder in his hand. Minseok throws his head over his shoulder and sinks his teeth into its smooth surface. Sehun winces but the pain only stimulates him further, to the benefit of both. “Hyung,” he whispers.  Minseok lifts his face and levels it to Sehun’s. At the look in the younger man’s eyes, for the first time since coming into contact with him, it’s the elder’s heart that contracts. He kisses him softly, more softly, he realises, than ever he has anyone else. Sehun shuts his eyes and sighs so that Minseok wonders whether to the younger this one temperate kiss might have been the true purpose of the exercise. As if to dispel the notion, Sehun promptly resumes it with heightened force.  “Tell me what to do,” he urges as they near the apex. Minseok only nods and fastens his grip on the younger’s neck as Sehun does his on his . Seconds later, simultaneously, both loosen, and this time it’s the younger that buries his face in the elder’s shoulder and strenuously exhales.  

It’s a thin line between hate and love – some never see it, others never cross it, most inch along it all their lives. And then there are those rarer few, those madder few who dare and dance it. “Oh Sehun,” Minseok says as he reclaims his breath, “I hate that smug face of yours, always have. But the rest of you… the rest of you...I love.”