Minho strode towards the team, his every step a declaration of simmering anger. It was a walk that spoke volumes, and Sam, ever attuned to the nuances of his teammates, was the first to pick up on it. He tilted his head, a puzzled frown etching itself onto his face as he called out, "Hey, Minho! What's wrong? You look really pissed off."
Minho, momentarily caught off guard by the directness of the question, shook his head, the movement a subtle attempt to regain control. His voice, when he spoke, was low and laced with a barely contained fury. "It's nothing." he muttered, the words a strained effort to downplay the turmoil within. "I just saw two guys who wouldn't stop talking trash about Seo-Jun. I was right there, and I heard everything. But don't worry…. I teach them a lesson." A flicker of a smirk crossed his lips, a hint of satisfaction in the way he rubbed his knuckles, as if still relishing the impact of a recent confrontation.
Sam let out a long, drawn-out sigh, the sound carrying with it a mixture of exasperation and understanding. "Oh, those guys." he said, his tone laced with a familiar weariness. "They're back, huh?" He then turned his gaze to Minho, a gentle smile gracing his face. "Don't worry about them. I'll take care of it." Placing a comforting hand on Minho's shoulder, he continued, "Seo-Jun just finished the race. He's probably in his tent, changing. You should go see him."
Without another word, Minho nodded sharply, his earlier rage now channeled into a singular purpose. He turned and headed directly towards Seo-Jun's tent, his shoes crunching on the gravel path as he went.
The flap of the tent parted, and Minho stepped inside, his heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against his ribs. Seo-Jun, as always, was a silhouette against the tent's entrance far side, his back a broad, glistening expanse as he peeled off his racing suit. Minho's cheeks flushed a delicate pink as he averted his gaze, the sight of Seo-Jun's bare skin both alluring and a little overwhelming.
The silence was shattered by Seo-Jun's voice, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very air. "Do you enjoy yourself being here?" The question jolted Minho, the unexpected directness stealing his breath. A thought, a frantic whisper, echoed in his mind: How does he always know I'm here?! He didn't turn, of course, but the rustle of the tent flap was enough, wasn't it?
Minho found his voice, a touch too high, a touch too eager. "Yes, I am having a great time here. And your friends are friendly too." He watched Seo-Jun, now pulling on a grey shirt and black pants, the casual movements a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment. Seo-Jun smirked, a secret gesture that Minho couldn't see but felt in the atmosphere. Frustration, a familiar sting, flared within him. "Just one thing bothers me..."
Seo-Jun raised an eyebrow, still not turning. He bent to retrieve his watch and a simple, gleaming ring from the bench. "What is it?" he asked, the words a soft counterpoint to the click of the watch clasp. Minho took a deep breath, his voice hardening with a mixture of seriousness and irritation. "Could you please stop calling me 'Tiny Guy' and stop telling everyone to call me that?"
The silver ring, cool against Seo-Jun's skin, settled on his left pinky, a deliberate act, a silent challenge. A smirk played on his lips as he turned to meet Minho's gaze, already simmering with barely-contained fury. "Why should I? It suits you pretty well." The words were light, but the implication hung heavy in the air.
Minho bristled, his jaw tight. "I am neither tiny nor little at all, sir." The "sir" dripped with sarcasm, a clear indicator of the "respect" that had evaporated between them.
Seo-Jun's smirk widening into a full grin, a predatory expression. "To me, you are pretty much." The words were a dismissal, a subtle power play, and they landed with the intended effect.
A muscle jumped in Minho's cheek. "How so? I am almost as big as you. And I can fight whoever asks for it." He clenched his fist, the gesture a raw display of suppressed anger.
Seo-Jun took a step, then another, his hands casually shoved in his pockets. The air crackled with unspoken threats. "Then..." He paused, the silence amplifying the tension. Then, he tilted his head, the smirk returning, and moved with a swiftness that surprised Minho, invading his personal space. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur against Minho's ear, "Tell all of that to our age gap, Tiny."
The words, the proximity, were a final, calculated blow. Seo-Jun straightened, the smirk still etched on his face as he walked away, leaving Minho in his wake.
Minho, momentarily stunned, recoiled, a flush creeping up his neck. "This asshole!" he thought, the words a frustrated whisper in his mind. "What are a 7-year age gap?! I can still do the same things he can!" He rolled his eyes, the anger giving way to a grudging self-awareness. "I shouldn't have defended him in front of those guys, they were right about him..." Irritation tightened his features, and with a frustrated sigh, he turned and left the tent, the flap falling shut behind him, sealing in the unresolved conflict.
Minho entered the team's tent, the flap of the entrance offering little resistance to the evening chill. Inside, the atmosphere was already buzzing with energy. Laughter and the murmur of conversations filled the air. He scanned the room, his gaze landing on familiar faces. He made his way to the back, settling onto a wooden bench. His eyes darted around, searching for Sam, but he wasn't there.
A teammate, noticing Minho's arrival, offered him a cold beer. He smiled, accepting the drink, the condensation already forming on the glass. As he took a sip, the flap of the tent burst open again, and Sam rushed in, his face flushed with excitement. He quickly closed the entrance, shutting out the outside world. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him. Sam was holding a handful of colourful balloons and a bag of confetti.
Minho, thoroughly puzzled, watched as Sam began to speak. "Alright, everyone, he'll be here any second! Get ready!" Sam then positioned himself directly beside the entrance, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. A wave of giggles and hushed whispers rippled through the group. Minho remained fixed on Sam, his confusion growing. Then, the flap opened once more, and Seo-Jun stepped into the tent.
Sam, with a shout of surprise and delight, leapt forward, releasing the confetti into the air. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOSS!" he yelled over the cheers and applause that erupted from the team. Minho's eyes widened in shock. He quickly glanced at his phone, and the screen read 00:01, April 4th. It was Seo-Jun's birthday, and he hadn't even realised it.
Minho sighed, closing his eyes in frustration. "Damn it…" he thought, the words echoing in his mind, "It's his birthday... I totally forgot about it. And now my plan is completely ruined." He watched as Seo-Jun's face contorted in a mixture of annoyance and suppressed anger. With a swift movement, Seo-Jun grabbed Sam by his shirt and, without a word, dragged him out of the tent.
A wave of giggles rippled through the remaining team members as they settled back onto the benches. Minho, still processing the events, turned to one of the guys, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong? Why did Seo-Jun drag Sam out like that?"
The guy chuckled, shaking his head. "Ha, it's like this every year. Seo doesn't care about his birthday and hates having a party about it. But Sam organises this kind of surprise every year, and he gets on Seo's nerves a lot." The other guys joined in the laughter. Minho giggled slightly, his mind racing. He looked at the table, the remnants of the celebration scattered around, and thought, "How am I going to carry out my plan now?"
He turned his head to the same guy he had spoken to before. "But is Seo-Jun going to compete against more people until the end of the night?"
The guy took a long swig of his drink, then replied, "Probably. When he comes here, he competes until he leaves." Minho's eyes widened, and a slow smile spread across his face, thinking to himself, "That's great! I still have a chance, then!"
Seeing Minho's expression, the guy smirked, leaning forward and placing his elbow on the table. "Wait. Don't tell me you want to compete against him!" He laughed along with the other guys, then added teasingly, without any malice, "Do you even know how to ride a motorcycle?"
Minho's expression shifted, hardening into a mask of proud resolve as he declared, "I can ride, and I'm actually pretty good at it." He took a long swallow from his drink, the clinking of the glass a stark sound in the sudden silence. A collective "Ohhhh" rippled through the group, surprise etched on their faces. A smirk played on the lips of the guy as he rose to his feet, bellowing, "GUYS, it looks like Minho wants to challenge Seo-Jun to a race!"
A wave of astonishment washed over the team, and a chorus of encouragement erupted, urging Minho forward. He flinched, attempting to interject, "Wait! I—" But before he could finish, Seo-Jun appeared at the entrance, the words having reached his ears. A predatory smirk curved his lips as he drawled, "You want to compete against me, huh?" He strode towards Minho, the air crackling with unspoken tension. The room fell silent, every eye fixated on Seo-Jun. Minho turned, his face a mixture of shock and speechless disbelief as he met Seo-Jun's gaze.