This corresponds with chapter 14 of Onhohoho

Minho is really unhappy - just look at his face in that pic.  My god.

Minho drug himself up the stairs, exhausted and gross from his first basketball practice.  The training was always excruciating for the first few weeks, not only for conditioning purposes, but to weed out any players that weren't up to par.  He had played at his old school so he understood the process, but it was still trying.  His body ached all over and his muscles screamed in protest at every step he took. 

He made a beeline for the shower because he felt utterly disgusting; his clothes sticking to him like a second skin from all the sweat. 

His mom would probably yell at him for staying in the shower too long, using up all the hot water, but the soothing beat against his back was helped to ease his aching, tired body.

He finally forced himself to move, shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around his waist before he stepped out. 

He was too tired and lazy to bother with his normal post-shower routine, simply throwing on some deodorant and padding down the hallway the short distance to his room. 

Minho grabbed a fresh pair of boxers and the sweatpants off of his bed and getting dressed quickly.

He smiled subconsciously as his thumb grazed over the embossed logo on his thigh.  He tried not to think about just how good their date had been because if he started dwelling on it he would want to do it again. And Onew was not something he was allowed to want.

He knew it was silly, but wearing the pants that Onew had bought for him always made him feel good.  There was a certain level of comfort that came with the memory.  Like his favorite stuffed animal as a child, he felt content, he felt safe when he wore them.

It was silly.  He knew that.  But he couldn’t help the little stutter his heart did at the mere thought of the older boy.  He let his aching body fall back on the bed, letting his mind drift back to that day, remembering the way Onew’s nose scrunched cutely when he was concentrating on learning the rules of soccer and how adorable he looked with a smudge of mustard on his cheek, unbeknownst to him of course.

Minho sighed; he knew he shouldn’t dwell on such things.  It was entirely counterproductive.  But if he wasn’t allowed to have Onew in his life then at the very least he could allow himself the good memories.  Right?  

Sighing he made his way back down stairs in search of Taemin.  Minho wanted to veg out in front of the television and playing video games until he passed out on the couch.  He was too tired, both mentally and physically to do much else. 

He followed the sound of voices towards the kitchen to find his brother, however he froze in surprise to see Onew sitting at the table, glass in hand and looking so breathtakingly gorgeous. 

Minho's eyes widened in shock, inside his heart was doing summersaults at the sight of the older boy, Onew was the last person he had expected to see casually sitting in his house. 

Minho crossed his arms across his chest, trying to look nonchalant but really he just wanted to cover himself.  He couldn't think of anything more embarrassing than talking to his crush unexpectedly when he was half .  He hadn't even brushed his hair! 

What was Taemin saying?  Was he supposed to be listening?  Was he supposed to be able to register anything past the adorable blush on Onew’s cheeks or the way he awkwardly crooked his foot when he was nervous?

But Minho felt a surge of anger coarse through his system when he saw that mischievous smirk on Taemin’s face.

Taemin knew. 

Not only did Taemin know, he planned this. 

Taemin had intentionally created this situation just to watch him squirm. 

Minho had never hated his brother so much.  Not even the time he had spilled grape juice on his favorite shirt or when he had dropped Minho's good watch the sink.  No, then he had been mad, but today he was livid.  He truly hated him.  Taemin knew why Minho didn't want to date.  Taemin understood more than anyone what the risks and consequences were.

Taemin was a , Minho decided.

Minho forced out a fake polite greeting to Onew, shooting daggers at his brother before wrenching the fridge open, grabbing the first item his hand met and slamming the door purposefully.

He burned in anger and annoyance as he stormed out of the room, throwing himself on the couch and huffing.  Taemin obviously enjoyed making him suffer.  And he was beginning to suspect that Onew was in on it too.  The older boy hardly looked surprised to see Minho there.  Maybe Onew wasn’t as innocent as Minho had originally thought. 

Or maybe Taemin had put him up to it.

Taemin could be a conniving little thing when he wanted to be.  He knew how to use that innocent face to his advantage. 

Minho sat on the sofa and strewed in his own anger and self-loathing.  He was so jealous of Taemin it was physically painful.  All this time Taemin had been friends with Onew, hanging out with him, getting to know him and Minho had no clue.  Taemin had always spoken very highly of his hyung, sharing funny stories about him knocking over the box of pencils on the receptionist’s desk with his bag on a regular basis or how they would go out for rice cakes when he got good marks on his quizzes.  Onew took care of Taemin.  Onew cared about Taemin.  And that fact burned Minho in a way he couldn’t even admit to himself. 

He knew that Taemin wasn’t romantically interesting in Onew, but it didn’t help to ease his fiery jealousy at all.  He was still livid that Taemin could spend time with Onew, sharing his life with the older boy like it was nothing. 

Minho wanted that. 

And what was worse, he could have it. 

Minho wasn’t stupid.  He wasn’t blind.  He knew how Onew looked at him.  He loved the way Onew looked at him.  The only thing standing between them and a possible relationship was himself. 

But he had to be strong. 

No one, not even Onew, was worth it.  He learned that lesson the hard way. 

Minho gritted his teeth at the pleasant chime of laughter rang out from the close kitchen door. 

Onew’s laugh was so honest, warm, inviting.  He made him think of the older boy’s stunning smile, how his whole face lit up in genuine joy over the simplest things.   It reminded him of the way his eyes disappearing into adorable slits whenever his heart-stopping smile pulled at his lips.

Before he quite realized it, Minho found himself silently creeping towards the kitchen door, trying to catch a faint sliver of their conversation. 

‘What the hell?  Did they soundproof the damn house?’ Minho cursed softly, pressing himself closer to the seam where the door rested against the frame. 

‘What the hell and I even doing?’  Minho mumbled to himself, prying his hands off the door and forcing himself to turn around. 

As much as he wanted to know what was going on in the kitchen, he would never live it down if Taemin caught him eavesdropping right outside the room.  He could think of few things more mortifying than getting caught, right now, with his ear pressed against the door. 

He had pride. 

Well, at least he used to. 

Minho forced himself to go upstairs, slamming his door and throwing himself on his bed. 

Life honestly couldn’t get any worse. 

Minho is being a drama queen right now. 

I don't love this one so much.  Idk why. 

But anyway - there are a few more Minho parts as we near the end of the story - his POV becomes kind of crucial to the whole plot - for obvious reasons.

Happy 4th everyone in the States!  More stoked about not going to work today than anything

To my British friends... sorrynotsorry.

To everyone else - Happy 4th of July that holds not significant meaning to you whatsoever.