He has to see Minho at their individual shoots. He only hopes he’d be able to look at him without vomiting.

After they’re done, though, Minho approaches Jiyong, asking to talk. Jiyong’s stomach flips.

“Sure,” he says nonetheless, though makes sure to use an icy tone.

“I’ve been thinking,” Minho says. “I thought about it all night.”

Funny, Jiyong thinks. He stays quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Minho says with his whole chest, and bows a ninety degrees.

Jiyong feels a sting in his gut, a feeling he can’t quite identify. Whatever it is, it makes him want to forgive Minho.

He doesn’t trust this feeling. He needs to hear Minho out first.

Minho straightens up, begins fidgeting with his sleeve. “I don’t want us to be on bad terms. We still need to work together, to finish this project. I’m really sorry for overreacting and saying that terrible thing, but I want us to make up.”

The apology sounds rehearsed. Knowing Minho, he probably thought it up in detail beforehand. Jiyong crosses his arms.

“I accept your apology. But Minho, I need you to understand me on this. I need you to understand why you overreacted.”

Minho grimaced, balling his fist around his sleeve. “You know why I overreacted?”

Jiyong nods stiffly. “I believe I do, yes. See, you completely misunderstood my point. Minho, I did not say that aesthetics were the root of your problem. I was just saying that you had a ed up attitude towards beauty, and you can’t argue there. But I know perfectly well that… that eating disorders aren’t caused by aesthetics, okay? Nor was I trying to fix you.” He pauses. “I can’t fix anyone, kid. I can’t even fix myself.”

Minho’s jaw is clenched so tight, his teeth might break. “I guess we can agree to disagree.”

Jiyong lets out an exasperated sigh. “I guess so.”

“You don’t think you have anything to apologize for?”

Jiyong raises his eyebrows.

“I ed up, I did,” Minho says. “But you kicked me out of your car. That was really ing dramatic.”

Jiyong straightens up as if stung. He did not expect to be called out. “I—Yeah, I supposed it was.”

Minho now crosses his arms as well. “So?”

“I’m… sorry. I’m sorry, Minho.” Jiyong gives a small bow.

“You’re forgiven. You can make it up to me by taking me home today—all the way this time. I still don’t have the car.”

Jiyong blinks, then smiles. “You’ve got it. Good job on standing up to me by the way.”

Jiyong doesn’t wait around to see Minho’s reaction to his last remark.

 

They are silent in the car. Jiyong can hardly breathe. He hates it, he hates how awkward it is between them, even when they’ve made up.

He’s grateful to Minho when he speaks,

“It may be odd to bring up now, but I wanted to tell you something.”

He waits, but Jiyong doesn’t respond verbally. He only nods.

“It’s good news,” Minho continues. “...I don’t know why I feel so bad.”

“Okay…”

“I talked to Seunghyun. About seeing a therapist.”

Jiyong gives Minho a quick glance. At last he gets to sigh with relief. “You’re right, that is good news.”

Minho shakes his head. “I’m kinda—scared? I don’t know…”

“It’s normal to feel that way, Minho. Therapy is… It’s ed. At first you might even feel worse because it’s all about uncovering the you don’t wanna admit to yourself. But it’ll—it gets better. I know everyone says that, but it does, especially after you have already taken this step.”

Minho nods, clutching the hem of his shirt tightly. “I know… God I really hope this pays off.”

“It will.”

Minho clears his throat. “I’ll also be seeing a psychiatrist. Seunghyun thought that would be useful since the problem at hand is anxiety. He said the medication for it is quite effective… He said that it's best to combine therapy and medication.”

Jiyong nods. “I’m really glad you did this. You’ll be fine, Min.”

Without thinking, Jiyong reaches out a hand and rests it on Minho’s thigh encouragingly.

Minho sinks in his seat, but says nothing.

When Jiyong realizes what he did, when he realizes that this isn’t one of his old friends who are all used to affection, he freezes up. He damn near crashes the car out of embarrassment and bewilderment. He immediately removes his hand, gripping the wheel tightly.

“Sorry,” he breathes.

“It’s fine..”

“I’m just—used to it—” Stop talking. “—with my friends—” You’re only making it worse, stop talking. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Just as Minho says this Jiyong, thankfully, pulls up.

When he dares to steal a glance at Minho, he sees that his ears are crimson. Poor kid must be dying of discomfort.

Moron. What was he thinking?

Minho isn’t leaving the car. Why isn’t he leaving?

“I’ll tell you how my appointment goes. Well—appointments.”

“Yeah—thanks.” Thanks? ing idiot.

Minho isn’t leaving. He’s bouncing his leg.

“See you at the rehearsal.” He leaves at last.

 

They’re filming their last scene for the music video. The set is the same as it was for their photoshoot, with the bed and the dim lights. Soonyi is their director again. Their instructions for this scene are to lie on the bed and chat.

“The conversation won’t be picked up,” Soonyi had said. “You’re supposed to look relaxed, so just talk about whatever.”

And that’s exactly what they’re doing.

Jiyong has his arm bent at the elbow, head propped up in his hand. Minho looks up at him.

“I wanted to thank you, for encouraging me to get help,” he says.

Jiyong looks at him in confusion.

“For my anxiety,” Minho clarifies.

Jiyong nods. Having gotten caught up with Minho’s eating issues almost made him forget about the other side of it.

“You chose a weird time to thank me, but I’ll take it.”

Minho averts his gaze, looking at the ceiling. “I was just thinking about how… well, the medication is working. I’m not sure about therapy, I might need to find someone else, but overall… I’m doing better.”

“I’m glad,” Jiyong says.

Minho opens his mouth as if to say something else, but he’s interrupted by Soonyi,

“You’re doing great guys! Jiyong, touch his face.”

Minho chokes. “What—?”

Jiyong chuckles. “It’s okay. Trust me.” Jiyong rests his forearm on the pillow by Minho’s head for balance. He leans in and carefully runs his fingers through Minho’s hair. Then, he brushes Minho’s cheek with his fingertips.

Minho isn’t breathing. Jiyong leans in to whisper, “Breathe.”

Minho’s lips part and he exhales. “Jiyong—”

“Hm?” Jiyong tilts his head. There are mere millimeters between them now.

“And cut!” Soonyi calls. “Great job everybody!”

Jiyong smiles. Unwillingly, he parts from Minho and gets off the bed. He stretches and yawns. “Oh, I can’t wait to get home…”

Minho, on the other hand, stays lying still for a few more minutes.