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"Do you love me?" Minho asked Jisung watching his profile as the other lay by his side staring unseeing at the ceiling. "You know I do".
"Hmm", was all Minho gave as a reply. Jisung finally turned to look at him, a small smirk on his lips, "what about you, do you love me?"
Minho felt his heart squeeze painfully, robbing his breath for a second. "I couldn't not love you even if I wanted" because that was the truth.
And for Minho maybe that was the biggest tragedy.
Maybe he had known deep down in his gut when he met him that Jisung, beautiful Jisung would make him suffer. But how could he resist the dazzling boy with the sparkling personality who could make Minho feel as he was forever in the middle of the stage, all lights on him.
Minho was always able to ignore Jisung's fuckboy reputation because Jisung kissed him as if he owned the only kissable lips in the universe, like he would drown without Minho's breath against his lips.
They soon became the best definition of what soulmates could be, the kind of people which would be hard to tell where one ended and the other begun. Even their lips slotted perfectly, as if made for each other.
They were each other's gravity. Love apparently didn't begin to cover.
It was by a silly little mistake that Minho discovered that he wasn't the only one on Jisung's stage. One little misunderstanding and he found himself an hour too soon where he was supposed to meet Jisung.
He was certain he wasn't supposed to see Jisung's waist being circled by strong arms that wasn't his own. The affection of the scene was so clear that Minho's throat had closed.
No, his heart didn't break, because that's the thing about love, it doesn't go away simply because you got hurt, it stayed right there, holding the mangled pieces together. Love wasn't disposable.
He had turned back and waited for the right time to meet his boyfriend. When later Jisung asked if there was something wrong, Minho blamed a headache and kissed Jisung deep, wondering if he still tasted the same.
Maybe he was a fool, Minho thought to himself, maybe he should have given in to the anger that came in the following days and confront Jisung. Let the sadness show in his eyes and let the other see his grief or simply leave when the betrayal would corrode his insides.
He did none of those things.
He let himself drift through the weeks, he carried on as if nothing had happened.
Every day, he would greet Jisung with a smile, cook for him and touch him as if he still owned him and if he fucked with a little more force than usual, well blame it on libido.
Jisung appeared to be the same, he still held the power to make all the lights shine for Minho, but now it was impossible not to see.
Like one of those optical illusion pictures that you have to squint very hard to perceive the hidden figures, but once you saw them it was impossible to unsee it.
The extra hour at work, the nights spent in the studio, the little extra makeup he would put on for no obvious reason before leaving, the days he wouldn't show up 'because he didn't want to take Minho's space'. It was all there.
Minho would get angry at himself, that cruel knowledge he had didn't change anything in their lives, it had only added an unwanted layer of pain that only he had to live with.
But soon he started to let out a little bit of the pain.
Jisung pressed underneath him writhing and moaning just on the brink of orgasm, "you're mine, right Sungie?" Minho would ask and watch the other unravel.
At any given moment of the day or night as one asks about the weather, the question was always the same "you're mine, right?"
He didn't know if there's a masochist side to himself, or if he just liked to listen to Jisung lie.
There was a twisted kind of satisfaction about hearing a lie, you know it's a lie.
Minho would watch the smile he loved so much take shape on Jisung's face as his boyfriend mistook his question as a sweet gesture. He also smiled.
As months passed, Minho even took it upon himself to help Jisung with his secret. Who better than him to make Jisung the most desirable? They were soulmates, after all.
When Jisung would go out, Minho would help him choose the prettiest outfits, give him hints on his makeup.
Maybe a little too much.
His boyfriend at first didn't think anything of it, just as Minho stood once again beside him in front of the mirror, something started to nag in the back of his mind.
"You look hot with your hair up Sungie I wouldn't be able to resist you"
"You look so good to fuck with your waist cinched like this"
"You're mine, right, Sungie?"
Minho could remember perfectly the moment Jisung's mind connected the dots and his eyes stared frozen at Minho's smiling face through the mirror. Jisung's Adam's apple bobbin as he swallowed, unable to speak.
Minho just arched a brow, shaking his shoulder and finally placing a kiss on Jisung's cheek. "I'll have dinner ready when you get back".
Guilt-tripping wasn't on his mind, but if that was the end result, oh well, thought Minho.
After a couple of awkward weeks when Jisung seemed always to be about to say something and Minho would look expectantly at him until the younger gave up, soon it all became a game.
Who could hide better the fact that the other new a secret? Who could act more natural?
Twisted as it was, nothing about them really changed.
Holding each other watching movies on the couch, the unspoken conversations they had only with their eyes, sex so perfect because they knew the other to the point of perfection and warm hugs that felt like nothing in the universe could reach them.
Jisung still lied, Minho still pretended he didn't, unable to 'unlove' what he loved about Jisung.
"Do you love me?"
And as he lied in the dark awaiting the answer, love held the pieces of his heart together, and Minho stayed.