***TUESDAY***

Minho plopped face down onto his bed. He wasn’t sleepy, just sore from filming for an upcoming Netflix show. His dormmates were all currently on tour, so for once, Minho had the place to himself and could relax in peace.

Normally, he would have exercised to distract himself from his nagging thoughts, but he was stressed out enough from filming that he needed time to just lie still and do nothing.

He had spent five hours filming a love scene between him and his costar. They had to get the mood and staging just right. He got along with his costar, Chae Soobin, fairly well, and they communicated between takes to ensure each other’s comfort. At one point, she had asked if he was okay when he appeared hesitant about his acting. He would often look over the script and director’s notes, and then zone out. He assured her, though, that he was fine, and they eventually got the scene right after working with the director.

Truthfully, however, there was something nagging at him the whole time.

This was, by far, the most intense scene Minho had ever done in his acting career. He and Soobin had to kiss multiple times, as their characters were exes who were hooking up after some drinks. He had to take off her jacket and prop her on the counter as if they were about to have . She even wrapped her legs wrapped around him for part of the scene. Minho felt the warmth of her body against his own, and engaged in passionate kisses with her; it was all acting, but it wasn’t too different from doing the real thing. With every new take, something became glaringly obvious to Minho.

Dating, a natural part of life for most ordinary people, was seen as a scandal for idols. If he was caught doing any of that with someone in real life, the media would tear him to shreds. Fans would turn on them, brands would drop them, sales would decline, and their fame would be shot.

Yet somehow, simulating such an intimate scene on camera was acceptable.

In a twisted way, he was only allowed to have any semblance of human connection when there was a camera rolling.

Minho wondered how that made sense. His dormmates told him that they were instructed to act physically intimate on camera. They would hug, hold hands, cuddle, even peck on the cheek if they were daring, all to sell the image of them having a close, familial bond.

Sometimes they would joke that they should marry each other, and yet, everyone knew that most of the general public would turn on them if they ever actually came out as gay. Because of this, they always had to remember to laugh it off as a joke, so fans wouldn’t think they were actually in love.

For some reason, fans ate that up. They liked to imagine idols in precarious situations, but only if the idols themselves didn’t truly want to do it. If idols showed any desire for it, the fans would grow suspect. It was twisted.

Minho didn’t have to worry about this too much as a solo artist, but he’d occasionally be included in the discourse when fans saw how close he and his hyungs were.

Sure, he had good relationships with the members he dormed with and could play along with the joke. But to do that all the time, every time they were on camera?

That looked tiring. It must have been harder for the groups out there that didn’t get along at all. People signed up to be singers or dancers, not full-time actors. That’s how the entertainment industry worked, unfortunately.

It was all about publicity – selling an image for profit. The same way his label and media outlets tried to manufacture competition between him and Key when they didn’t even know each other. With how much attention their supposed rivalry drew, the tabloids would probably lose their if he ever kissed Key on the cheek–

Wait, why was Key suddenly coming to mind? And why did he think about kissing him?

As much as Minho wanted to pretend that nothing happened, any attempt would be fruitless.

Something had happened between them. A lot happened between them.

They kissed. And they didn’t stop there – they drunkenly hooked up.

All without anyone knowing. All without a camera watching.

It would have been easy to stop it from escalating. They were practically strangers with no obligation toward each other.

So why? Why did it happen?

Why with someone he had never met?

Why with someone he didn’t know?

Why with someone leagues ahead of him?

Minho to his back, trying to think back to that day.

He had been rehearsing nonstop for his new mini album. That night, he had won first place on KBS, his first accolade for the album. It seemed as though his efforts paid off. Even though he knew that awards mattered little in the grand scheme of things, a part of him rejoiced every time he won something. It was a sign that he had proven himself.

He was elated; his fans were ecstatic during his encore; his colleagues were nothing but supportive; it should have been a happy occasion.

Sadly, his higher ups didn’t share the enthusiasm. Over the phone, they chewed him out for only barely winning. The gap between his votes and Key’s was too close for their liking. Minho argued with them, asking why the exact number of votes mattered when the album was performing well, and the company was raking in most of the profit anyway. They scolded him for speaking out of turn.

Apparently, breaking records was now more important than the quality of music.

Minho tried to forget about the whole situation and let loose at the club, but something within him broke the longer he faked a smile around his colleagues.

Thinking about the disagreement with his higher ups still made Minho angry. As some of that pent up anger from that day started resurfacing, he subconsciously slid a hand under his jeans.

He might have told a manager or friend that he’d be in the bathroom. Really, he just needed to get away from the club scene. He had settled into a corner by the bathrooms, where the music wasn’t as deafeningly loud.

His higher ups’ words kept ringing in his ears. He always gave 200%. He worked longer hours than anyone else in the company. He beefed up his body to please everyone around him. He even won awards for his acting and music.

More notably, he had beaten Key, the only other artist he could compete with. Minho’s bosses always praised Key as the standard to live up to. He was an excellent dancer with exceptional vocal range and unique concepts. Minho had conquered the obstacle that stood in his way by winning out over awards and music shows.

Why was it still not enough?

A tear had fallen down his cheek as he stared at the floor blankly. He should have been bothered by the amount of people nearby who would see him crying for the first time, but he wasn’t thinking rationally. How would they react if they learned how often he cried to himself in secret?

He had already been exhausted from his schedule that day, and now he was feeling angry and hopeless. He needed the space to let it all out. He felt so distant from everyone around him until someone had gently patted his shoulder.  

Minho looked up to meet the eyes of the kind stranger. With the alcohol in his system, and his emotions all a mess, it took a moment for him to realize that this was the Key from J.K. Entertainment.

Once Minho recognized him, he nearly scoffed. What was he doing here? Why was he down looking at Minho like that? How pathetic did he appear right now? Minho didn’t need anyone’s pity, and certainly not from him of all people.

Minho got up and wiped his tears to save face. When he finally stood face-to-face with Key, however, something within him had changed. But what?

In the present, Minho pondered that question, closing his eyes. the image of Key’s eyes lingering in his mind. As the events of that night came flooding back to him, he gripped his and leaned his head into his pillow.

That’s it. It was something in Key’s eyes.

They weren’t scornful or full of pity, as Minho had anticipated. Instead, there was something else, something warm and friendly about his gaze.

A hint of empathy, curiosity, maybe understanding.

Even in hindsight, it was hard to pinpoint why exactly Minho decided to lean in to kiss Key. He couldn’t remember if he leaned in first or if Key did. Was it just them knowing who they were, deep down, from the way they looked at each other? All he remembered was getting lost in Key’s beautiful eyes.

Minho knew he should have stopped after that first kiss. He should have been mindful of their surroundings and their reputations in the industry. He should have apologized for not even considering whether Key would be okay with it. But before his rational thought could catch up, Key was already kissing him back and pulling him closer. Minho’s skin was heating up, tingling when they pressed their bodies against each other. He remembered their overlapping moans and warm breaths. Minho’s own breathing in his bedroom developed a steady rhythm as the feelings from that night rushed into him. His hand followed along.

He didn’t recall how they had made their way to Key’s apartment afterward. He didn’t remember the feeling of every kiss, or exactly how much they had done. Everything was a blur, a puzzle he was still trying to piece together as he jerked himself harder.

He vaguely remembered ing aggressively into Key, releasing all of his contempt, loneliness, and self-loathing into him. Everything he did that night – it was all selfish. He was only thinking about his primal desires and his bottled-up emotions. He didn’t care about his label, or the world at large.

And yet, when Key grabbed him by the hair, and held his face in his hand, and moaned just as loud with him,

Through it all, Minho felt…

…safe?

It was hard to say for certain. That’s just what he had felt. He thinks Key understood him, but that could have been the alcohol tricking his brain.
 

Even so, his gentle touch, his welcoming gaze at the club, that first nudge on the shoulder; it all made him feel safe.
Safe enough to let his walls down, even for just a few hours.

And that simple act had set him free.

Minho let out a sharp exhale as he released into his hand. He opened his eyes. He panted to catch his breath and let his eyes stare blankly at the ceiling above, as waves of euphoria, confusion, and catharsis washed over him.

It would have been nice to be back in that room with Key, but instead, he was alone in his.

As he calmed down, the cold air finally set in. He was so burnt out from his day that he hadn’t realized how chilly the room truly was. The absence of his roommates only made the place feel emptier.

This was the first time in a while he felt so lonely.

Before he could sink into his cold misery, his phone rang on his nightstand. He sat up and checked the caller ID with his clean hand. He looked at the phone screen with a perplexed expression, then answered the call as he stood to go wash his hands.

Meanwhile, Key had just returned from another busy day. This time, in between some meetings at the office, he had a variety show taping, a fan sign, and a guest appearance on a mukbang show.

Nothing of note happened with the taping. He showed off his mastery of the latest girl group dances, as he regularly did. He impressed as always, and even won some prizes to take home.

The fan sign went smoothly, too. Lots of enthusiastic fans, mostly teens and young adult women, came to get their albums and posters signed. Most of them called him “Oppa”, as one would say to their older boyfriend, and Key played along. They flirted with him, and Key would flirt back and blow them kisses. It was all part of the job – to feed into girls’ fantasies and pretend to be their ideal boyfriend. In return, they would continue to support him and his music.

Interestingly, two different fans shared with him that they had gotten engaged. Key was delighted to hear this and congratulated them both warmly, eagerly listening as they joyfully shared their upcoming plans. It was a nice change from having the umpteenth fangirl beg him to be her husband, or ask him to do a cute challenge. It was refreshing to be reminded that his music reached people from all walks of life. Though they were technically strangers to him, he could still connect with people who had good relationships in their lives, and didn’t just see him as their pretend boyfriend.

It was during the mukbang show, though, where those moments left him feeling unsettled.

The host interspersed questions about his professional and personal life throughout their conversation, almost like a casual interview. The host asked him about his dogs, his gardening hobby, and his love for covering girl group dances. They also decided to ask him a more personal question,

“Do you plan on getting married?”

Key was thrown off guard by this, but managed to hide his surprise. He coolly answered, “I’m not thinking of marriage right now. Even if I wanted to, I’m too busy to get married. And I can’t even think of that question if I’m not currently seeing anyone. I’d have to find someone first before I can approach that question.”

The interviewer seemed shocked at his response. In Korea, people were expected to marry and have kids, typically in their mid or late twenties. For him to outright say that he wasn’t interested in marriage would make anyone’s head turn.

While Key wasn’t necessarily lying, he wasn’t in a space where he could tell the truth. If he was in a relationship and revealed that on air, he would have faced backlash from the general public, and his career would face a huge setback, if not plummet right there. He had to hide his relationships to keep up the ‘ideal boyfriend’ façade.

Expressing any desire for marriage would go against that façade; on the flip side, rejecting marriage altogether would go against the general expectations of a Korean citizen.

As long as he was an idol, he had no say in getting married – at least, publicly. If he married in secret, he would be lying to his fans.

But why did he have to lie to them? He couldn’t realistically promise his hand to thousands of strangers. Plus, he remembered today that his own fans could break the rules of the pseudo-romance and go get married on their own. They weren’t restricted the way he was.

It was a peculiar contradiction.

As Key cleaned his apartment, pondering these thoughts, his phone rang. He plopped onto the couch to take a break and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Key! Good that you picked up. Thought something happened when you didn’t answer my texts.”

Key rolled his eyes and smirked. “You know how it is. Busy schedule. This shouldn’t be a surprise.”

Minho playfully whined. “You can’t even squeeze in time for a reply? I know you read my messages!”

“I told you I wasn’t good at texting!” It was true. Minho had congratulated him when Key won first place on Inkigayo this past Sunday. Between then and today, he also sent some messages about planning dinner. It’s not that Key wasn’t grateful for Minho actually wanting to talk to him; he just didn’t always know how to respond. Sometimes, he would plan to respond later and then forget to follow-up.

“And I believe it now!” Minho laughed on the other end. Key chuckled to himself, not expecting the other’s natural laugh to be so high-pitched. “Good thing you answered. I was trying to tell you that I have an idea for a place where we can have dinner. There’s a place downtown that serves really good pig sausages. It’s by the department store.”

Key’s face lit up. “Oh! I know that place! I used to go there all the time when I was a trainee.”

“It’s so good, isn’t it? My album promotions wrap up this weekend, so I thought it’d be a great time to go. My last performance is on Saturday. What about you?”

“My last performance is on Sunday at Inkigayo. And if I win first place, there might be an afterparty.”

“How about we meet Monday night? Does 6pm work?”

“I can do 6:30.”

“Perfect! I can already taste the sundae-guk.”

“I can't wait.” Key smiled to himself. After an arduous promotional period, a bowl of blood-sausage soup was exactly what he needed to close out.

There was a pause in the conversation. Minho spoke up before it could become awkward. “Great. Yea, so, what are you doing now? Are you busy?”

“No, I'm done for the day. I'm just cleaning my apartment. What about you?”

“I'm done, too. I was filming for a drama and just got back a short while ago.”

“Really? What drama?”

“It's called The Fabulous. I play a photographer in the fashion industry. It'll air on Netflix in October.”

“No way! On Netflix? That’s pretty cool. Maybe I'll check it out.”

“Yea, you should! I'm really excited for it.”

Another pause lingered. Key didn't know whether to tell him about his day unprompted or to hang up. Minho, on the other hand, wasn't quite ready to end the conversation.

“Hey, do you wanna hear something funny?”

Key sensed a change in Minho's tone. He wasn't speaking as fast as he did when he called earlier. There was more hesitation this time. “Yea, sure.”

“So, my mom called today. I actually just got off the phone with her a few minutes ago, before I called you. We asked each other how we're doing, filled each other in on what's been going on in our lives, all that. But then, she asked me whether I'm dating right now.”

Key raised an eyebrow, confused as to where this was going. “She did, huh? What did you say to her?”

“I told her I'm not seeing anyone. She complained a bit, saying she'd love for me to settle down and get married and have kids. She doesn't keep up with pop culture or the latest trends, so she doesn't buy into the whole 'idols-can't-date' mindset. Just to ease her worries, I told her I'd try to find someone.” Minho paused, reflecting on his conversation with his mother. “You know, most parents want the best for their kids. That’s what they keep telling you as you grow up, that they expect you to eventually marry and start a family. They want them to have grandkids and keep the family line going, and I get all that…” He sighed. This was the real reason he wanted to call Key.

“…but the thing is, we can't really do that as singers, can we?”

Key finally understood. He realized that Minho had wanted a space to vent about this. He leaned back onto the couch, taking in everything Minho had just said. 

Minho didn't know what to make of the silence on the other end, so he continued. “Sorry, I know this is coming out of the blue. My roommates are all out right now so normally I–”

“You're right.”

“Come again?”

Key smiled sadly. “I said you were right. That is kinda funny.”

“…You think so?”

“I get it.” Key smirked again, to himself, and partially to the world at large. “They won’t stop talking about marriage as you grow up. But when you become a trainee, no one tells you that you sign yourself up to be the public’s shared boyfriend.”

Minho sighed in relief. “That’s true. They don’t.”

Key waited a few seconds before sharing his thoughts. “You wanna know something? I was on that mukbang show today, and they asked me about my marriage plans.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “Seriously? They asked you about that? What did you tell them?”

“I told them I’m not interested and I’m too busy anyway.”

“I mean, what else could you tell them?”

Key scoffed. “Exactly. Even if I wanted to get married, I guess I could tell them. I just wouldn’t be able to actually get married.”

Minho smirked. “Well, you could get married. You just wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. And if word gets out that you got married, everyone will hate you forever.”

“And I’d lose all my gigs. Heck, J.K. might just fire me. Don’t forget that.”

“Especially that.”

“My fans, on the other hand…”

“Your fans got married?”

“I met two at a fan sign today that just got engaged.”

“No way! Were they older?”

“Hard to say. I think one of them could pass for our age. One of them was talking about picking out a wedding dress. It made me think about what I would want my wedding outfit to look like. And then I remembered…”

They both chuckled sadly at their predicament. This time, they enjoyed a brief comfortable silence.

Minho stared at the ceiling again. “I’ve given up on dating. It’s too much effort to lie to everyone and date in secret. But still… It’s lonely sometimes. It would be nice to have someone. I don’t know about you, but that’s how it is for me. Does it ever get like that for you?”

Key’s gaze drifted toward the kitchen counter. He always tried to distract himself with his busy schedule, but deep down, he knew how he felt. The repressed feelings would eat at him on nights where he took too long to fall asleep. Even so, he couldn’t help but smile at being able to talk about it with someone in a similar position.

“You don’t have to answer tha–”

“It does.” He held the phone close to his ear. “It gets lonely for me too.”

In spite of the heavy topic, Minho, and Key both smiled to themselves. After all this time, through loneliness and despair, they had finally found someone who truly understood.