He's known for a long while now- Minseok has- probably since that first party at the lake freshman summer when he'd stumbled into the cabin's tiny kitchen in search of limes for JongIn's shots. What he'd found instead, was a blushing Luhan trapped between the wooden sinktop and a tall tan guy with blonde hair. Minseok stopped short with his hand on the doorknob. They hadn't noticed him- too busy whispering in eachother's ears. Luhan was giggling now, and the tall blonde leaned forward to rest his hands on the counter, effectively wedging Luhan between his arms, and Minseok's heart somewhere between embarrassment and a feeling like regret. He took a step back, and the tall blonde looked up. 

"What are you doing here, Mindget?" he sneered, quirking a thick brow in confusion. Luhan slapped his tan bicep. 

"Kris! Don't say that!" Luhan gasped. Minseok glanced at him. Luhan was fighting a smile, and it suddenly seemed very cold in the doorway. Minseok turned tail and headed back through the livingroom, the heady stench of the musty carpet heavy in the air. Minseok felt like he had been slapped. His earlier embarrassment was quickly evolving from a shocked tingle into a stinging burn that spread from his cheeks up into his hairline and ears. He ducked out the front door and shuffled past the group of teens loitering around the side of the cabin. Jongdae was among them, telling some hilarious tale that had everyone rolling. He stopped his story- looking up to wave at Minseok as he passed, causing several of the people listening to turn around curiously. Minseok avoided their eyes. He felt they could see his shame. Kris' words had settled onto his forehead and were now burning brightly for all to see. JongIn looked up at him expectantly. Minseok shrugged and plopped back down into the ratty lawn chair. He'd returned to the campfire empty-handed, but every sip of his Corona now tasted more bitter than it had before he'd left.

That uneasy churning in his stomach he'd had every night right before sleep for the last few weeks had taken shape and tromped it's way to the front of his mind. He wanted to ignore it- to tuck it back behind his newfound style, and the new friends he'd made recently; and yet- denying it would only serve to reinforce the horrible fact of its existence. Minseok decided to put off all thinking, so when JongIn offered him a little plastic neon cup- he didn't hesitate before tossing the dark brown liquid to the back of his tongue. He would drown this disgusting feeling of awareness that was so different from how he had felt when people began complimenting him about his new haircut.

The reality of their relationship had made itself so clear back then, the buzz of alcohol seeping into his veins only intensifying this sudden unwanted epiphany. He'd made this very conclusion back then, surrounded on all sides by good-looking teens with plans to get ugly drunk. Even in highschool he'd known that he, Kim Minseok,  in all his pale, five foot five existence was living- thriving even- off of borrowed brilliance... and he had never felt more...lightless.