"Like Salvador Dalí, Van Gogh,
Picasso in my body,
man I’m ing artist."

The slow beats of the track pulsates in Mino’s ears as he sits down on a spinning chairs.

He scans the practice room, bobbing his head to the rhythm in a subtle manner while he takes in his surroundings.  

Despite the ruckus happening around him, Taehyun’s singing fluctuates between soft spoken words or full blown opera not to mention Seunghoon and Jinwoo playing a bizarre game of tag, Mino’s eyes search for one specific person. 

His eyes lock onto the man sitting furthest away from the chaos. The man sitting on the floor with his back facing the wall, an absentminded expression on his face while strumming a guitar.

"And you can’t tell me nothing,
you know that I’m doing it right,
don’t ask me who I am,
I’m Dalí, Van, Picasso."

Mino can’t help but scoff at the lyrics, at how fitting the words are.

Whether it’d be main vocalist, composer, lyricist or leader of Winner, the bearer of all these titles is still one sole person.

Kang Seungyoon, the personification of pretentiousness. 

Mino can see his lips already mouthing words, his fingers trying to find a pattern or a rhythm along the guitar strings. He’s in his own world. 

Within that world, that mind of his, he’s already more than likely piecing together letters, letters that will become words before eventually settling into lyrics. 

"Seungyoon," Mino murmurs, resting his chin in his hand. "When will you realize your pretentiousness?"

The other man doesn’t hear him, Mino doesn’t expect an answer. He knows, understands, how it’s like to be trapped in your own mind. 

It’s as if you’re home, at last. Left with nothing but your thoughts and your visions, except that can often result in a nightmare within a daydream. 

This is why Mino believes that not many people are able to do that. Mino doesn’t undermine practicing to reach that level; he had to do a certain amount of training himself until he could spend hours upon hours in his own mind imagining his own work. But practice can only take one that far, can only enable people to grasp it.

Practice cannot enable people to master, to perfect, and to embody it. 

Mino takes pride in his abilities to be part of those who have gained that skill. After years of hard work, of determination, he’d managed to be somewhat adequate like the rest of the great minds he’d been fortunate to encounter. 

He’s prideful, even though he’s no Kang Seungyoon. 

“This feeling is pretty profound,
no one else tried this,
what’s clear is that inside my body,
someone else is with me.”

Seungyoon is a born visionary, a genius in the making. He never stops growing, never pauses, and never lets his talents overshadow his dedication. Seungyoon practices what is already perfect.

Mino finds that pretentious as well. He finds quite a lot of aspects about Seungyoon to be pretentious. 

He doesn’t know his limits, which bothers Mino more than he’d want to admit.

Seungyoon’s lack of self-awareness has resulted in one too many times where Mino has found him fast asleep amidst self-composed sheet music and lyrics scribbled on scrunched up paper.

Seungyoon not knowing has resulted in Mino taking on the task of carrying the other man to his room, to his bed, while trying to suppress the sinking feeling of Seungyoon’s alarmingly thin frame pressing against his back.

Mino wishes Seungyoon would realize how pretentious he is, to his body, to himself, to the world that seems to cloud his judgment. 

He hopes that Seungyoon can open his eyes to their world, and not his own one.

Mino hasn’t seen that happen yet.

He’s unsure if he’ll ever see that happen.

“I’m Dalí, Van, Picasso,
I’m Dalí, Van, Picasso,
I’m Dalí, Van, Picasso,
I’m Dalí, Van, Picasso.”

“Pretentious idiot,” he sighs as the track ends, slow beats fading out in his ears before repeating once more.

He pulls out his earphones, pocketing them before standing up.

Taehyun is still in the middle of singing in different genres that Mino prays will never appear on their next album. He manages to dodge Jinwoo sprinting past him, laughter escaping the shorter man’s lips as Seunghoon chases him around the practice room.

Although Seungyoon is a mere meters away from him, Mino feels as if he has survived crossing a minefield.

Letting out a long exhale, he stops once he’s in front of him.

Seungyoon has his eyes closed, seeing a world that no one but he belongs in.  

In the spawn of a single song running through Mino’s ears, Seungyoon has found a proper rhythm and started humming lyrics to a potential title track.

“Honestly,” Mino huffs, settling down next to him. “So pretentious.”

His entrance doesn’t alert Seungyoon, doesn’t even faze him as he continues to strum his guitar with a bit more vigor than before. Mino watches him.

He knows how hard it is to escape that world. He understands that patience and caution is needed when waiting for someone to leave.

Mino knows, yet he doesn’t try to act as if he does.

Snatching the guitar from Seungyoon’s grip, Mino pushes back all warning bells screaming at him that what he’s doing is wrong and nothing but wrong.

Mino is tired of Seungyoon disappearing, tired of his pretentious self.

He sets the instrument besides him, ignoring the stunned look overtaking Seungyoon’s face. Slinging an arm over the other man’s shoulders, Mino pulls him close against his side.

“You never cease to surprise me, Kang Seungyoon”, he states in a feigned mocking tone.

“Uh, Mino,” Seungyoon hesitated. “What are you doing?”

“I’m reminding you of how pretentious you are.”

Seungyoon stares at him as if he has grown two heads.

“Thank you?” He questions, eyebrows drawn in confusion.

Mino scoffs at him, suppressing a smile at his expression.

“I’m also reminding you of the real world.”

“The real world?”

He looks at him, meets his puzzled gaze.

“Yeah, the real world,” Mino repeats, as if that’s going to make Seungyoon understand. “You’re spending too much time in there-“

He pauses, tapping Seungyoon on the forehead before continuing.

“Than here,” he finishes, gesturing with his free head at the practice room.

Seungyoon follows his hand. He watches Seunghoon challenging Taehyun to a high-note battle, watches as Jinwoo claps his hands in excitement as Taehyun accepts the challenge by puffing out his chest.

He blinks.

“Oh,” he whispers, sounding sheepish.

Mino lets the smile cover his lips. “You’re so pretentious, Seungyoon.”

The other man snickers, smiling with slight embarrassment. “I guess I am.”

They sit together, observing the spectacle happening in front of them. Mino feels a sense of accomplishment washing over him as Seungyoon doesn’t leave his side. They comment on the other members’ antics, laughing as one of them makes a mistake or yells an insult at the other.

As Taehyun starts to sing louder, entering dangerous opera territory, Mino retrieves his earphones from his pocket.

The same track from before is still playing, stuck on repeat.

“Mind if I join?” Seungyoon asks, eyeing Seunghoon who has begun to inhale a lungful of air.

Mino hands him one of the earbuds, fingers gracing the softness of his skin. As Seungyoon fits the bud in his ear, his eyes widen a slight fraction.

“Oh, this song’s good,” he smiles, nodding his head in approval.

“What, you don’t trust my taste in music?” Mino comments in an amused tone.

Seungyoon snorts, smiling at him. “I trust your taste more than I trust my own.”

Mino is the one to stare at Seungyoon this time, as if he has grown two heads.

Seungyoon turns to survey the members, scolding Seunghoon as he tries to bribe Jinwoo into voting for him.

“I swear they act worse than kids,” he mutters as Jinwoo picks Taehyun out of spite.

He glances at Mino, noticing the forgotten earbud in his hand. Leaning closer, he takes hold of the bud before placing it in Mino’s ear.

“At least I got one sane person here,” he whispers, sending Mino a knowing smile.

Mino is still staring. A part of him wonders when was the last time where he got to be near Seungyoon, the two of them spending time together than apart. He wonders when the last time was where he was in such a close proximity to Seungyoon.

Another part of him wonders what he’s going to do besides staring at Seungyoon like a madman.

He leans closer, placing a quick kiss on Seungyoon’s cheek.

Seungyoon freezes, eyes widening. Mino can’t help but smile as he leans in for one more kiss, this time lingering a bit longer before retracting.

Seungyoon leans back, numb yet the small smile gracing his lips betrays his body.

He doesn’t leave Mino’s side.

“Are you with me? Are you listening?
Or do you hate me like you don’t feeling this ,
just like I am, those who are crazy for art,
are feeling me, as if pierced by a knife.”

“You’re just as pretentious, Song Mino,” Seungyoon grumbles, smile still intact.

Seungyoon is pretentious, but Mino’s not far from it.