“Can I ask why you’re giving Jongdae a lot more air time?”  Gritting his teeth forcefully, Minseok confronted the manager.

He had held the urge to do so for a long time now, suppressing his ridiculous dissatisfaction, not unlike a child whose younger brother had received a bigger cookie than he.  Minseok considered himself as one of the most placid, patient persons, and it was not an unfounded self-named characteristic; anyone who was at least an acquaintance of his would agree without hesitation.

The manager glanced at the phone in his hand distractedly, made as though to check it, then changed his mind and shifted his attention back to Minseok.  “Oh, the air time?  We’re trying to boost his popularity.  You know he’s lagging far behind.”

That was precisely the problem.  Minseok knew.  And because Minseok knew, people expected him to understand.  He did, he truly did.  Yet jealousy was bound to triumph over reason sometime.

“Then what about me?  My face is barely captured on camera.  They even cut out my segments!  I know the plan is to promote Jongdae more, but what about me?  Isn’t the excessive cutting unnecessary?”  Minseok knew he was crossing the line, yet he persisted. 

“Why can’t you give Luhan less time instead?  He has all the damn popularity he wants and more!  How about Yixing?  Doesn’t even try during variety shows but you still show him so much.  And Kris or Tao?  Do their fanbases need to grow too?”

All of a sudden, he was aware of how quiet the room had become.  Everyone seemed to be staring at him, shock registering on their faces.

Luhan broke the spell first.  “I’m sorry if I offended you in any way, hyung.  But I just want you to know I had no intention to overshadow you or anything.  I’m just… I’m sorry.”  Those bright, guileless eyes seemed to shine more than usual as he turned his head away, resisting momentarily Yixing’s embrace before allowing himself to be led out, face buried in the dancer’s shoulders.

Wrapping one arm protectively around Tao and the other to pull a dazed Jongdae along, Kris cast a disapproving glance at Minseok.  The trio left the room wordlessly.  Somehow, that felt worse than Luhan’s monologue.

As though by unspoken agreement, the entire room emptied out until he was the only one.

That day, Minseok realised he had lost another precious thing forever – the close, brotherly bond with his fellow members.