It’s two in the morning and Mino cannot fall asleep. The street light sneaks through the cracks of the curtains in his window and lies straight on his face. He has been tossing and turning around on his bed for an hour, and every time, the noises that his bed makes seem to want to wake the whole floor up. “F-ck,” Mino thinks, “they might think I’m j-rking off in here or something.” He scoffs at the idea, “but it has been an hour, that’s pretty pathetic.” He thinks of getting another beer, but then he remembers the schedule for tomorrow. It ain’t gonna be easy – they have a packed day – thanks freaking god, something to do and not just being buried in the basement. Getting drunk, or even remotely tipsy at this point is not an option. He gets up and pulls from under his bed an old bag. Mino searches through every pockets and is finally able to locate what he is searching for. He cracks his window slightly open before lighting up a cigarette from what seems to be an old pack of red Marlboro.



The first inhale gives Mino something that reminds him of the highs he used to get when he was still running around doing stuff that usually makes his parents shake their heads. He  the air in, deeply; the smoke that quickly fills his throat tastes somewhat like burnt wet paper. He can feel the the tip of his fingers become numb and the tingling feeling on the top of his head blurs his mind; in this state, usually Mino would think of Seunghoon.



Seunghoon. Hm. Where to begin. He puts his hand outside the window and mindlessly flicks the cigarette ash. It has been a good amount of time since the first time the older guy entered his thought in the middle of the night - when he spent too much time lying blank on his sheets, his mind wandering to places. Somehow, it always finds Seunghoon at the other end. A strange sensation was always invoked. He finds it surprisingly bizzare that the pieces of picture in the dirty magazines that he sometimes collect for references to draw didn’t do it for him anymore when he tried to direct his thoughts into something else – something that a normal guy in his early twenty would do in the middle of the night. And by normal, he means straight.


Mino wasn’t into guys. He had never been. He still isn’t. He finds it repellent, the idea of getting it on with another dude. It is okay, he supposes; it is, after all, an orientation as such. People have different ideas about what works for them. For him, other dudes are just inanimated images of things he doesn’t care about. Even when they are astonishingly beautiful. Like Jinwoo hyung. Jinwoo hyung has the most dazzling face and figure he has ever seen. Or Taehyun, the troublesome younger guy with his remarkably alluring features. He can acknowledge it alright. But those extraordinary things about them don’t mean much to him. He kind of filters it out after one glance, and he gets used very quickly to those delightful faces.



However, his mind doesn’t stay as peaceful when it comes to Seunghoon. There is something about this hyung that intrigues in him some offbeat feelings. He pays a little too much attention to the way Seunghoon moves; his long and delicate neck with the visible Adam’s apple motions up and down when he does things as simple as breath. Mino doesn’t find it appalling by any chance, that he would pay attention with such details to every little bit of Seunghoon that crosses his eyes. And in one of those moments, sometimes Seunghoon would return his glare with a, almost, he thinks, suggestive glance, however only for half a second, then keep going about like nothing happens. It is tricky, indeed, because Mino would try to think of something else, but his mind always go right back to that gesture which lasts for probably half a blink of an eye. He couldn’t get rid of it. Nor did he want to.



It is unsettling. He had tried, certainly, to imagine himself making a move toward Seunghoon. But he always stopped himself every single time at the last second. In the end, how does he even make a move towards a guy – he has no idea. Perhaps he was comfortable with his own socially constructed gender role that allowed him to simply reenact the same moves repeatedly whenever he tried to hit on a girl. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t – but he thought not of it as some types of evidences according to which his behavior is definitely gendered. He used to cover the idea by thinking that there are women who are into him and those who ain’t. Now that he figures he couldn’t advance toward a guy the same way he did women – it troubles him to some extents. Not for some big causes; just the mere fact that he doesn’t know what to do in front of Seunghoon already gives him headaches. He is not going to admit the slightly homophobic tendency that guys like him generally have in thinking that being weirdly attracted to Seunghoon like this totally undermines his masculinity. But it does make him anxious, and all of a sudden, he is not at all comfortable under his own skin.



It is those thoughts that keep coming back to him in the middle of the night for the last few months that Mino couldn’t get rid of. He starts to wonder what Seunghoon would say or do if he would approach him differently. And what if Seunghoon doesn’t think about him the way he does? That would be awkward. But again, he never has this doubt when he looks at a girl of his type. Some of them would very well find him as dull as he generally finds other dudes. Now that’s definitely what makes him feel stupid, please more so than confused, when he reflects on his own judgement. In the middle of it all, there’s Seunghoon and his overwhelming captivation that got Mino question every action of his.



* * *



It is three in the morning now and half of the pack is gone. Mino doesn’t realize that he has been absentmindedly chainsmoking for almost an hour. His mind isn’t getting any clearer, and he decides to put a stop to his thoughts for tonight by, well, to put it simply, getting off. He doesn’t want to admit that even during those private times, Seunghoon doesn’t leave his mind, but it would be too much for him to say it out loud. He flicks the cigarette butts out of the window and leaves it slightly open so that his room wouldn’t smell too bad. God knows what Seungyoon would say if he finds out. As he returns to his bed and looks for some inspiring materials under his bed, he startles to hear a small knock at the door. Who would it be at this time, Mino wonders as he proceeds to open the door. He almost freezes at the sight awaiting in the other end.



“You smoke too much, Mino.” The sound of Seunghoon’s voice faintly echoes inside the hallway. “It gets into my room and I couldn’t sleep.”



Mino trips aside while Seunghoon walks into his room. The main character of the little novel he has been writing for the last few months finally arrives to the main event. He finds himself anxious as expected.



“You know,” Seunghoon looks straight at him, his lips twitched into a light smirk. “If you have time to think of me so damn much, you could have just asked.”



“About what?” Mino accidently lets out a small gasp and he hates himself for it.



“I don’t know. Things that make you wonder.” Seunghoon tilts his head while keeping his gaze fixed at him. The smile never leaves his lips.



“I can,” Mino clears his throat nervously, “but I’m not even sure what they are.” He stops for a second, then continues. “Nor would you like what I got to say, if I know what to say.”



“Try me.” Seunghoon stands with his back slightly touching the door, his arms wrapped in front of his chest, half intensely half bemusedly looking at Mino. The younger one certainly wouldn’t even try to hide his acute observation of the scene. Finally, he speaks up:



“For starter, what should I do to get your attention, I guess?”



“That’s one question.” Seunghoon giggles. He arches his back and his shoulders move in a way that got Mino almost curse aloud. “What else?”



“You haven’t answered that question.” Mino asks.



“There’s no need. You certainly have my attention.” Seunghoon replies.



“In what way?” Mino asks again.



“Good question. But I need to know from your end.” Seunghoon mindlessly tucks his hair behind this ears and Mino tries not to be affected by the move.



“That, I still haven’t figured out yet.” He reluctantly speaks.



“Then perhaps figure it out soon before you become addicted to cigarettes and deprived of sleep.” Seunghoon laughs softly before turning his back and opening the door to leave. “You need to go to bed like now.”



And before Mino realizes, Seunghoon is gone. From the crack of the door, Mino can hear his faint footsteps fading away to the end of the hallway. He closes the door again and walks back, throwing himself to the mattress that has gotten a little bit too cold. The clock on the nightstand next to him points at four am, and Mino knows he wouldn’t get much, if any sleep tonight. When he closes his eyes, not unexpectedly, the image of the older one still doesn’t leave.



At least, after all these months, for the first time, Mino thinks of something other than confusion and dark thoughts.






End.