There is confrontation in this chapter, as well as themes in regards to mental health. Please do not read any further if these topics are sensitive to you.

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Buzz. Buzz.

Minho's eyes peel open to the dark of his own room. He was incredibly tired, emotions stripped from his face as he leaned upwards in search of his rude awakening.

Buzz. Buzz.

The familiar sound of a vibrating phone stirs Minho more awake than he'd like to be. After an evening talking and being closer to Han than he'd ever imagine he'd be, Minho found himself exhausted. It normally took him a while to get to sleep, especially in the circumstances of the last twenty-four hours, but he nodded off without a thought last night.

The events of the last week and a half also had Minho expended of energy, nearly consuming all of his time into thinking about Han and hiding his affection towards him. Phobia or not, his feelings were on the table now. Minho didn't want to refer to the whole thing as a confession, rather, a sudden change of his mind. It was less embarrassing that way, not that Minho cared that much, but if he were to ever explain their relationship to someone, he would word it completely different. The thought of telling their friends about this newly blossoming relationship was something Minho wasn't exactly excited about. He was scared, truthfully, but that would have to be something he deals with when it comes to it.

Buzz. Buzz.

"Ji." Minho mumbles, pointer finger raising to rub away at his tired eyes. Han doesn't seem to move, breaths still heavy and deep as he sleeps to the right of Minho.

"Jisungie." Still no movement from his partner. Minho throws his head back in a quiet groan of I don't want to deal with this right now, eyes barely able to say open as he leans forwards more, spotting Han's vibrating phone just in front of him.

He doesn't want to pry, but he more so wants Han's phone to stop fucking vibrating so he can go back to sleep. Regardless of who it was, especially if it was his parents, all Minho wanted to do was silence his phone. He knew Han wouldn't care if he looked at his phone, but he felt a bit unsure about doing so. Then again, he reminds himself he only wants to silence the phone, not read his damn text messages.

He reaches over Han, grabbing onto his phone as it vibrates once more, letting the illuminating hand-held computer brighten the world around him. He winces at the brightness, but allows his eyes to focus on the screen as his thumb slides the ringer button to silent.

Minho, unknowingly, scans the screen of the phone, eyes immediately darting towards the time to gain some sort of sense of when they fell asleep. 15:06 a.m.

Just as he's about to look away from the time, his eyes dart downwards, catching a glimpse of a text from Felix.

Felix

Ji. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to corner you like that.

It wasn't our intention to confront you the way we did.

Minho's curiosity takes the better of him as he taps on the thread of text messages, watching them split apart and the entire story appears on the screen.

Felix

I realize now that what I said was wrong.

I was wrong about Minho the entire time.

I never took your feelings into consideration and was really only thinking of what I wanted for you.

If Minho makes you happy, then I'm happy for you.

For the both of you.

Minho's throat is dry and he can feel vomit twirling in his stomach. He doesn't want to read any further than he already did, given this was a total invasion of privacy, but his eyes refused to leave the device.

Felix

Please call me in the morning.

Hyunjin and I wanna talk to you about everything, I promise.

Just please, call me. I'm worried about you.

Minho wants to throw Han's phone into the void of his dark room. He can feel tears pulling at his eyes as he sits there in the middle of the night, grasping for an idea as to why Han would out him like this. After everything they had just done - just committed to? It was a lie. It was bullshit.

Part of him wants to wake Han up, yell at him until the sun comes up and figure out why the fuck he would be so stupid to openly talk about something that has nothing to do with anyone but themselves. The other half of him is lost. He's sad, heart begging for an understanding as to why someone he cherishes so much would lie to him?

Minho's eyes rake over to Han slowly, heart breaking as he watches him breathe in deep slumber. He doesn't know whether he wants to hug him or punch him. He can feel the tears overtaking him at this point, barely able to hold them back as he lets out one long, steady stream of air. He's panicking internally, clutching Han's phone in his hand as he stares aimlessly into the dark.

The streetlamp outside of his home illuminated very little of his floorboards, descending over to the edge of his bed and the side of his dresser. But his mind just sees darkness, following the edge of his walls and towards his curtains. He can't bear to see the light in this; there was no light about this. Everything associated with what he just read broke him back into so many pieces, pieces that he had spent the better part of a year trying to fix. But, he felt he didn't need to understand. He didn't need to know the conversation, or argument, Han had with Felix just the other day. Nothing was necessary from Han or anyone else. He just wanted to go away and to disappear. He just wanted to feel nothing.

"Minho?" Han's groggy voice suddenly stirs from Minho's right, and Minho freezes on the spot. Minho doesn't answer, teeth biting down on his lip as he quiets his quickened breaths and quickly wipes away falling tears to pretend as if nothing happened. "You up?"

"I'm awake, Ji." Minho manages to mutter after quickly and briefly calming himself down. Han doesn't seem to notice the tinge of sadness accompanying his tone.

"Can't sleep?"

"Nightmare, actually." Minho wished he was lying. He begged for any reality other than this.

"Can I do anything to help you?"

"No. I think I just need to get some air."

"Okay." Han pulls the blanket a bit closer to himself, almost ready to doze back off. "Don't be too long."

Minho can hardly convince himself to reply as he mutters a gentle, "okay". There's a certain sadness associated with his tone now, coated in disappointment also, but he can't help what rises in his tone as Han drifts back off to sleep.

Minho reaches for his own phone, letting Han's lay dejectedly on the end of the mattress. His legs quietly but swiftly are thrown over the edge of the mattress, rising from what felt like a prison sentence as he escapes the threshold of the shared bed. His steps seem to have purpose as he rushes out of his room and down the stairs, grabbing his keys and heading out the door without another word. He's glad he thought to put sweatpants on before going to bed, now noticing the chill lingering in the air, but he can't relish in any emotions other than anger as he quickly walks down the sidewalk. His mind was on fire. He didn't realize he was so caught up in attached emotions with Han that he barely set any time aside to think of something like this happening. But in all honesty, Han was the last person he expected to do this to him. This is why he hated relationships. This is exactly the reason why he never wanted to get close in the first place.

Han seemed so innocent, so kind and timid. Someone Minho never envisioned being cruel ever in his life. Though Han might not have done any of this on purpose, the fact of the matter was that it was done anyways and he was lied to.

The cold air nips at Minho's exposed neck and arms as he walks, eyes stuck on looking at anything else but the sky. He watches trees and bushes, even glancing at parked cars to distract himself from the sad reality that unfolded to ignore the heart break now associated with the phase of the moon.

His heart broke the first time under a crescent moon, just partially shining in the dark while outcased by the clouds. It was years ago at this point that he found himself crying into the moon and stars, begging for some peace of mind before electing to find himself numb and to remain cold for the rest of his days.

But at some point, he gave into Han's pretty eyes and soft skin, allowing his heart to feel something once more. He couldn't explain why he gave into Han the way he did. He fell so quick, so damn fast, especially after some stupid party drinking game.

But even as he continues walking down the sidewalk, he can't convince himself to stop. He keeps walking and walking, almost as if he has no goal, but he knows exactly where he wants to end up. This is the place where he went for anything and everything, the slightest bit of stress would cause him to end up here, as it would any performing athlete who just needed time to get out of their own head.

So he winds up at the dance studio again, feeling for the key to the door the teacher so graciously gave him a copy of months ago. It wasn't new for Minho to spend countless hours alone in the practice room, but it was unusual for him to be here this late. Nonetheless, he finds the key and places it between two fingers, the cold metal seething against his skin as he approaches the door and unlocks it with a click. He closes the door behind him, hand autonomously moving towards the light switch as he flicks the overheads on, wincing slightly as the high-set lights illuminate the space. Mirrors upon mirrors look back at him, and in his reflection he finds a sad, helpless boy who was drowning in his own thoughts.

He struggles to move from this position for a second, but his body leans towards the computer and his mind follows. He scrolls through song selections for what feels like hours, remaining idle at the desk with tired eyes as the monitor displays several tracks from thousands of different artists.

There's nothing more I want to do than not think.

Minho picks out a random song he's familiar with and begins stretching in the center of the room. Limb by limb he stretches, staring back at his own reflection with red eyes. Barely an hour had passed at this point, and he couldn't find himself to care if Han knew he was still gone or not.

His heart is numb again, tears leaking over the surface of tired eyes as he stands there, alone in the flood of lights. He hates his reality. He hates what he's become and he can't help but feel lost.

So, he lets the music corrupt him. He dances to songs he knows like the back of his hand, pouring more devotion into fluid movements the more he practices each time. They're over-perfected at this point, but as long as he didn't have to think, he didn't care.

Each movement isn't as rigid and is more fluid than the last, but something feels wrong. A break in the music, for just a moment; Minho feels his breath hitch.

"I learned a new move. . .I needed a break, so I decided to call you."

"Now that's cute of you."

Minho's heart seizes. His hands fall and he stops moving completely, falling off track to a familiar song as he rests there, chest heaving upwards and back, ears ringing at the sound of Han's affectionate tone.

Minho wipes the tears in his eyes and turns around, replaying the last thirty seconds of the song and standing center again, waiting for the same cue that he missed before.

He moves on time, hands flowing with the beat and body moving in motion like it's supposed to until he spots a familiar figure standing behind him in the mirror. The sound of the door closing clicks in his ears as his leg sways backwards to the following move, landing incorrectly and causing his ankle to twist.

"Ah, shit!" Minho immediately falls down, hands grabbing for his ankle as he sits down on the wood floor, anger swelling in his jaw as the familiar body approaches with worry.

"Minho!" Han comes closer, hands finding his shoulders and holding them. "Are you okay? What did you do?"

"I twisted my ankle. I'm fine." Minho groans unhappily, wanting to swat Han away from him, but he's writhing in pain, so his focus diminishes onto that of himself.

"You're not fine, hyung. Please let me take you home."

"I don't want to go home!" Minho's voice travels louder than he wanted it to, feeling Han's hands leave his shoulders and back away quickly.

"Minho?" Han's confused, but so is Minho. He wants nothing more than to cry in his arms right now because he's beyond irritated, but Han was the reason he was so irritated. His mind feels blurry and his ankle is on fire, and before he knows it, his head tilts down and the tears stream down his face.

"Minho? Are you crying?" Han's eyes trail down the older's side, watching his breaths hitch as he sits, holding his ankle with tears streaming down his face.

"I just-" Minho tries to breathe through his sudden wave of sadness. His attempt fails, leaving him unable to look or speak to Han any further.

"It's okay." Han's hands timidly reach back out, one hand landing on Minho's back.

"I'm not-" Minho's hands leave his ankle, rushing up to wipe away the tears on his face. He didn't want to act like such a baby, but he was overwhelmed suddenly, all he could think to do was cry. Maybe it was the swelling pain in his ankle, or the fact that Han was here, but he felt like he couldn't stop crying even if he wanted to. "I can't stop fucking crying."

"I'm here. It's okay to cry, Minho, I cry all the time." Han chuckles at himself lightly, but it hardly consoles Minho or alleviates the tension swirling in the room. "Why'd you come here though? Why didn't you come back to bed?"

"I needed to think. Or not think. I don't know."

"What's on your mind?" Minho's stomach flips. Of course he would ask that, leaving Minho hardly any room to maneuver around the elephant in the room.

"You." Minho can't lie the way Han lied to him, accidental or incidental, regardless, a lie was a lie.

"Why me?" God dammit. The last thing Minho wants to do right now, in the middle of the night with a swollen ankle, is have a heart-breaking conversation that was sure to end whatever relationship they had. Not to mention he was exhausted and he only came here to avoid thinking, but now he was forced to think and deal with the situation head on. He just wanted to go to bed, if anything. He just wanted to avoid this complete mess altogether.

"Your fight with Felix-" Minho's head is pulled upwards, tears slowing down as his breaths even out. "He texted you last night, apologizing."

"I saw that. . ."

"Was the fight about me?"

"No, Minho, it was about me." Han tries to reassure, but Minho shakes his head.

"I saw what he sent you, Ji." Minho finds the courage and will within him to turn his head towards Han and look him in the eyes. "You told him about us."

"I didn't. I swear to you I didn't."

"What else could those text messages mean?"

"He cornered me, Minho." Han's hands leave Minho's body to rest in his lap nervously. "He saw us kiss in the pool. I guess he and Hyunjin had walked back out and saw us."

Han shrugs, his own sadness sinking into his pores as he sits there, guilt swimming over his expression as he sits on the floor in the cold studio. "I just told him about what happened during spin the bottle. That's it."

"Han," Minho's head tilts, teeth finding his bottom lip as he holds the tears in. That was all he needed to know, feeling his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. "I thought we agreed-"

"We did! I know we did! I panicked-"

"It was up to you then to tell the group or not, but that offer did not extend over multiple days!"

"I didn't want to lose Felix as my friend, I didn't think I could lie to him."

Minho's in disbelief. He could feel the tears held in a tight ball within his throat. He didn't want to feel this again, he really did not want to feel like this. But as he looks at Han, all he can feel is an overwhelming wave of distrust lingering between them.

"So you chose to lie to me?" Minho's voice breaks Han's heart. Han's head tilts down, hands holding the hem of his shirt with whitened knuckles, bundling fabric in his hands.

"I didn't mean to lie to you."

"But you fucking did, Ji. I told you I wanted this private until I could figure my shit out and you went ahead and told Felix, who sure as shit told Hyunjin."

"They're not going to tell anyone, Minho-"

"That's not the point." Minho looks away from Han, eyes glued to the floor.

"Minho, I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't think about what I said and I-"

"You clearly didn't think. You knew what our agreement was. You knew how I felt about others knowing after we got in deep with each other."

"I'm really sorry." Han lets the tears leak from his eyes, looking back up to face Minho, but only then does he realize that Minho is looking down at the floor, nearly refusing to look back at him.

"I'm sorry too. But I can't do this with you anymore."

"Minho-"

"I'm done." The words strike a chord in Han's brain as they settle into collective silence, hearts breaking evenly, tears settling on cheeks and hands lonely and cold. Han doesn't know whether he should walk away or keep trying to reach Minho.

Minho felt cold now. No longer the warm, considerate man he grew affectionate towards. He was different suddenly, and rightfully so. Han knew that.

"I can't really go home right now." Han mumbles through his tears.

"I don't care where you go right now, Ji." Minho's voice is even colder now, deep and monotone, hardly the voice Han recognized. He can barely believe the situation before him, unknowing that this would be what he'd wake to.

"What happened to 'come to my house if yours isn't safe?'"

"I hope Felix offers you the same thing." Han feels like he had just been shot in the stomach. His mouth is slightly gaped, eyes widening with tears continually streaming as he can't believe the words muttered from his cold friend. This wasn't Minho anymore. This wasn't the man that Han had strong feelings for. This was a stranger; someone Han didn't want to be around anymore.

"You're cruel." Han stands from the floor, arms folded, eyes reddened. "I finally understand what Felix meant when he told me that you were an asshole."

"Just go home, Ji." Minho still stares at the ground, one hand cupped around his red ankle. He hated what he was doing. He hated this. He wanted anything but this. But he didn't do any of this; Han did this.

Han turns and leaves, running out the door without another word. Minho waits until he hears the click of the door, then he absolutely loses it. He can't stop the onslaught of tears that came now, listening to his cries echo in the lonely studio.

Fuck his ankle hurt so badly, but nothing hurt worse than the pain in his heart.

Han walks quietly back down the sidewalk, hands finding bare arms as he quickly walks back to Minho's home, silently staring at the pavement his converse tread over. He knew lying to Minho was not a good decision on his part, but he never imagined Minho turning into a breathing statue.

Han's skin was cold as he walked through the night air, allowing himself to think openly into the unfolding situation. He truly never meant to hurt Minho, god he wished he never lied in the first place, but he couldn't bring himself to choose one or the other. Instead, he ended up losing both.

But he thinks back to the text messages Felix left for him just an hour ago, hand reaching for his phone as he opens his screen back to the text messages, reading over each bubble carefully.

"Call me-"

Han feels a surge of desperation twitch in his fingers as he clicks onto Felix's icon and calls him without another thought. It rings three times and Han thinks about hanging up, but suddenly the line picks up and Han wants to vomit.

"Hello?"

"Lix?" Han's voice was barely the same as it usually was, breaking with hitched breaths that Felix caught notice of nearly immediately.

"Ji? Are you crying?"

"Felix-" Han tries to prevent the tears from falling, but Felix's voice breaks him.

"Please talk to me."

Han loses himself, stopping dead in his tracks beneath the beam of a street lamp. His free hand finds the bridge of his nose, squeezing the skin there to try and stop the flow of tears, but Felix continues to insist to let himself cry.

"It's okay, Jisung. I'm here. Just talk when you're ready."

Even after two days of hardly any contact and an argument about Han's secret life, Felix remains present and comforting, waiting until Han is comfortable enough to share what was so troubling. Though, Han wasn't sure if he had it in him to explain everything right then, finding a single moment to take a deep breath and ask Felix a simple question.

"Can I come over?"