The opulent velvet of the couch seemed to mock Minho's dishevelled state. Seo-Jun settled beside him, the sigh that escaped his lips carrying a weight of weary exasperation. "Are you this dumb," he asked, his voice tight with a controlled frustration, "to try to break into my gang's mansion?" His fingers, surprisingly gentle, began to dab at the angry gash above Minho's eyebrow, the antiseptic stinging the already throbbing wound.
Minho, caught in the crosscurrents of humiliation and pain, could only stare at the floor, his mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions. He finally managed a weak murmur, "You knew... it was me..."
Seo-Jun's gaze was as hard and unyielding as granite. "Of course, I knew." A tremor of something akin to hope flickered within Minho. He met Seo-Jun's eyes, searching for answers in the cold depths. "Then why did you let me go? Just like that?"
Seo-Jun avoided his gaze, focusing intently on the task at hand, the rhythmic application of the medicine a deliberate shield. "From what I'm seeing, it wasn't just like that. You paid for it. Besides, I won't gain anything from you being hurt or dead."
Minho started to speak, but a sharp intake of breath cut him off. "But- Ouch!" Seo-Jun, lost in his concentration, had pressed too hard on the wound, eliciting a pained yelp.
He immediately withdrew his hand, his face a mask of indifference. He looked at Minho with a serious face, his voice softer now. "Does it hurt a lot?"
Minho met his gaze, his own expression a mixture of defiance and something else, something that might have been gratitude. He rolled his eyes, the gesture a small act of rebellion. "I will survive."
Seo-Jun's gaze, unwavering, locked onto Minho's, the intensity of his scrutiny almost palpable. "That's not what I asked." he stated, his voice low and laced with an undercurrent of something akin to… concern?
Minho met his gaze, and a blush crept up his neck. The depths of Seo-Jun's eyes revealed a disquiet that surprised him, and he averted his own gaze, murmuring, "It hurts." Seo-Jun straightened, his movements sharp and decisive. "Good. Remember it then. And don't try breaking in ever again." He turned, the first aid kit clutched in his hand, and strode towards the kitchen. Just as he reached the threshold, he paused, his back still to Minho, and spoke, his voice low and edged with steel. "You and your team are still looking for illegal dealings that I have to use against me, right?"
Minho was stunned, his mouth agape. Seo-Jun continued, his voice unwavering, "I don't have any. Everything I do is legal. I hate criminals. In fact, I can't even call my team a 'mafia gang', we see ourselves more like a business team." He turned his head slightly, his gaze piercing. "So quit playing around like this. I can't protect you much longer. My team is getting suspicious of me."
The revelation struck Minho like a physical blow. He had been so sure of his assumptions, so convinced of Seo-Jun's hidden darkness. The truth, however, was far more complex, far more… unexpected. "So... he knew all this time the truth... and he still protected me..." The realisation crashed over him, and he rose to his feet, bowing deeply. "Thank you, sir! For protecting me!"
Seo-Jun merely rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Minho alone in the sudden, echoing silence. He sank back onto the couch, his hands flying to his face. "What should I do now?!" The question hung in the air, unanswered, a testament to the precariousness of his situation. "I somehow believe what he said about the illegal deals, but... what will I tell Jin?! The team will never believe this, especially without any physical proof... Seo-Jun's word means nothing... especially to Jae..." He then lay on the couch as a sigh escaped his lips. The flickering fluorescent lights seemed to mock his confusion, casting long, dancing shadows that mirrored the turmoil within.
A new thought emerged, a flicker of intrigue igniting within him. "But... he protected me out of a good heart... and why do I feel like… he has changed? He doesn't get mad so easily, and now he even protected me. Even in the car he was acting different..." A warmth spread through his chest, a strange sensation that began in the pit of his stomach and flushed his cheeks. He noticed the blush, the betrayal of his own body, and his thoughts spun again, "Why is this making me blush?!"
The abrupt intrusion of Lily shattered his introspection. The living room door burst open, and she stormed in, a whirlwind of energy and concern. "Minho, I am here! Don't worry, you will get better in no time!" Her smile was a sunbeam, and the thumbs-up she offered was a promise of resilience. Minho's lips curved into a soft giggle as Lily, with a practiced hand, began to gently tend to his wounds, the sting of antiseptic a small price to pay for her unwavering support.
The antiseptic scent of Lily's ministrations filled the air, a stark contrast to the brewing storm within Minho. Her gentle touch on his bruised face was a soothing balm, but the words echoing in his mind refused to be silenced. As Lily worked, a shadow fell across the doorway. Seo-Jun. He moved with a quiet grace that belied the weight of his presence, a fleeting glance shared between them, a silent acknowledgment of unspoken feelings. Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone, leaving Minho adrift in a sea of unanswered questions.
Night descended, and the city lights painted streaks of gold and crimson across his room. Sleep offered no solace, only a relentless replay of the day's events. Seo-Jun's words, "I can't protect you much longer." were a haunting refrain, a discordant note in the symphony of Minho's thoughts. Restless, he paced, the floorboards groaning beneath his agitated steps, thinking, "I have to go ask him about today… His words won't leave my mind at peace! It's becoming annoying … The conversation might end well or…" The need to understand, to unravel the cryptic message, became a burning imperative.
With a resolute breath, he moved, his feet carrying him towards a confrontation. He found himself outside Seo-Jun's door, the polished wood reflecting his own uncertain visage. A knock, a moment of hesitation, then the low, gravelly voice from within, "Come in." The door swung open, and Minho stepped inside, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
The door clicked shut behind Minho, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. He stood, head bowed, the word "Sir..." a hesitant offering into the room. Slowly, he raised his gaze. The sight that met him stole his breath. Seo-Jun, lounging in his bed, the soft glow of his phone illuminating the sharp angles of his face, a vision framed by the casual elegance of a home gown and the precise lines of his glasses. A blush crept up Minho's neck, a treacherous tide of emotion he fought to contain. "Shit! Not now, stupid body!" he thought, the words a frantic whisper in his mind, while his body couldn't help but react to the view in front. He cleared his throat, forcing composure. "Can I ask you something?"
Seo-Jun didn't look up, his voice a low, chilling rasp. "What?"
"Why did you really protect me today?" Minho pressed the question, a desperate plea for clarity. A flicker of something – surprise, perhaps, or a hint of something more complex – crossed Seo-Jun's face. He paused, his phone now forgotten. "I told you. I won't gain anything from you being hurt."
Minho's gaze dropped, a blush rising again, a silent question in his murmured words, "Is this... the only reason?" Seo-Jun's eyes met his, a cold challenge. "Did you expect something else?"
The blush vanished, replaced by a mask of stoic resignation. "What am I even thinking, really? Of course, he didn't have any other reason to do that..." The disappointment was a heavy weight. "I am sorry for bothering you this late, sir. Please, excuse me now." He bowed, turning to escape.
But Seo-Jun's hand shot out, a sudden, decisive grip on his arm, turning him back. The air crackled with unspoken tension. "Did I say you could leave?"