“Binnie’s default state of being is worried,” Rohan quips, lips settling into a small smile. At least his hunch was correct–his cousin and their fiancé often acted as a single unit, scarily in-sync with one another (he’s glad they have one another, though. subin–his dearest binnie–deserved someone like min soo). “If they weren’t worried about me, I’d be worried.”
It was simply the nature of their relationship, how it has always been since they were young children. Subin was older and softer, in possession of a gentle soul and bleeding heart. They always worried about Rohan, often combining forces with their grandmother to make him see reason over particularly stressful situations the mangaka found himself in (he’s pretty sure binnie was grateful their hair was naturally light, easier to hide the grey hairs rohan most definitely caused; saved money on hair dye). While the concerns were appreciated (more than he’d ever admit–it just… felt nice to be cared for.), the questions were… not exactly unwelcomed (rohan likes minnie, he does. he wishes binnie didn’t send him in their steed, though–a phone call would have been less… invasive. maybe easier to handle without having to look him in the eyes.) but not exactly wanted, either.
(it’s uncomfortable. the whole situation is uncomfortable. he’s not saying he doesn’t enjoy minnie’s company–because he does!–but the topic at hand is still something relatively new, something… fragile and delicate. he still doesn’t even know how to talk about it in his own god damn head. it’s confusing. his head hurts already and they haven’t even begun.)
Everything about Min Soo screams anxious–from his speech to his body language–and Rohan’s smile drops with a sigh. He needs to quit getting stuck in his own head. It’s only hindering the progression (only stalling the inevitable.) of the conversation, only causing the other to feel like an unwanted guest in a home that he should always feel welcomed in.
“It’s… it’s fine, Minnie,” Tired hands (is he shaking? perhaps just a little bit–he doesn’t remember the last he slept, too busy engrossed in his work.) move swiftly to fix his cup of coffee, his back turned towards the only for a short period of time before he rejoins him at the table. “I appreciate the concern, even if I–ah–don’t necessarily show it right now.”
Gaze fixates itself upon the mug held in his grasp, the near pitch-black liquid (they were out of milk, he’d have to remember to add it to this week’s grocery list.) reflecting his exhausted expression back. Where does he begin? How does he begin? Is there, really, any coherent and cohesive way of explaining his newfound… relationship?
(he’s thankful that minnie is the way that he is–patient and kind. nonjudgmental. rohan has to remind himself that he’s here out of the love binnie and he both harbor for rohan, whether or not he thinks he’s all that deserving of it.)
Another deep sigh is exhaled, the artist forcibly releasing the tension held in his shoulders. A good enough start, he supposes, is to begin by answering the question asked of him.
“I’m–yeah, I’m okay with it.” A pause, lips twitching into a grimace. “I think. It’s… uh, it’s still a lot to process, but I guess this was a possibility I didn’t consider at first when I–”
(–kidnapped–adultnapped?–a dead killer from the morgue?)
“–Decided to take on this responsibility.”
The conversation lulls for a brief moment, Min Soo intaking the proffered information as Rohan debates how best to proceed from here. He raises his mug, taking a cautious sip (it’s still too hot, but he drinks it anyways.) before speaking again.
“If it’s any consolation, he’s, uhm, surprisingly… a good partner?” A wince accompanies his words, as if regretting them the moment they slipped past his lips. Oh well, too late now. “Surprisingly thoughtful? I guess, for a mur–for a former murderer?”
(he almost said obedient, but he… doesn’t think minnie necessarily wants to hear about all of that. that’s an entirely different conversation, and one that he’s not exactly eager to have.)
“The whole situation is difficult, at best, to explain and understand; I’ll admit it’s… complicated and odd but I–” Hesitation cuts his voice off, forced calm expression faltering for a moment before he reels it back together.
He (likes it.) doesn’t want to dive into complicated emotions.
“–I think, all things considered, it’s going fairly… well?”
Rohan said it was fine, but, somehow, Min Soo found it difficult to believe.
He doesn’t say anything, however, and can only nod in affirmation.
There’s something that was so... gut-wrenching about being unable to believe someone that you so desperately wanted to. This couldn’t have been the first time (he’s having some trouble remembering, but he wants to think that this isn’t the first time. they’re friends, aren’t they? friends have their fair share of disagreements, don’t they?) that something like this has happened, but Min Soo couldn’t seem to recount any such memories. As if to voice this thought without words, the corners of his lips trembled vaguely-- twitching briefly before stopping.
He almost frowned but had managed to catch himself to, instead, keep his lips into a state more accustomed to neutrality. Hands quietly pulled towards one another, entwining loosely as they hung limply between slightly spread legs. Min Soo’s eyes quietly lowered their gaze, settling for peering down at the space (it’s as if he’s unsure if he wants to meet rohan’s gaze, and he’s going to say he’s doing it just to spare rohan the discomfort of being looked at.) in-between his feet. Slowly, though, his attention brings itself up towards his fingers.
He doesn’t know why.
He starts rubbing his lips together.
He doesn’t know why he does that, either.
“Former murderer,” he found himself muttering, too slow to catch himself saying it aloud. Eyebrows gradually drew together into a faint knit, vocalizing his minor difficulty (didn’t the guy murder over thirty women? he didn’t think it’d be that easy... would it?) in understanding such a change. “Yeah... it’s, uh, stuff like that that makes us worried, I guess...”
Admittedly, he’s been trying to pass all of this off as some sort of sick joke-- he doesn’t mean to in order to cope with it, just... rather, he doesn’t know what to think of it, otherwise. It almost doesn’t seem real (he always thought rohan would go the rest of his life single -- which thank god he didn’t, that would make min soo feel sympathy pains every time he saw him -- or he’d find someone who was... um... a little less like the fabled morioh murderer.), but how was he supposed to express that?
If he had said anything relating to it, he doubted it’d get him very far. Already, he’s imagining Rohan staring at him with a look not quite like disbelief but not reaching full cooperation, either. It’s something like that that simply inspired Min Soo to keep his mouth shut.
Honestly, though, he doesn’t really know what he expected out of Rohan.
He wants to trust him (and he does. why shouldn’t he?), but it’s the... other side that he doesn’t trust-- if that made sense?
“... Ah, no... wait-- that’s... that’s not what I meant, sorry.”
This was frustrating but just a little bit.
“I... uh, I’m just...” he paused, feeling his tongue start to tie itself into knots before he could even try. At that, he let his head hang from his neck and soon shook his head -- hard -- once and then twice. “I-- y’know what? Hold on, I’m restarting!”
Quietly but with as much confidence Min Soo had managed to muster, he raised his head and attempted to Rohan square in the eye. He firmed his lips together, forming a line that’s on the verge of frowning but never quite reaching it. A huff escaped, but it’s not meant out of malice (not even out of frustration, contrary to popular belief. it’s just... hard talking about these sorts of things, is all.) and, rather, a small way of expressing himself without putting it into words.
“Rohan, it’s... it’s okay if you’re-- you’re stressed out about this.”
His fingers gave a small twitch, and it’s encouraged the idol to pull one of his hands free in order to gently place it on top of the table. Without saying anything of the sort, he’s offered it towards the other (from one creative to another, so to say.) as a means of comfort-- that is, if he wants to take it. He doesn’t dare to try and force such a thing onto Rohan; he knew better than to do that.
“It’s... alright if you don’t know what to do-- how to feel.”
“I mean... I don’t think I’d know what to do -- which isn’t saying much but...! You know what I mean -- because it’s just... it’s such a niche thing, I guess? It’s... not... like everyone would be willing to do what you’re doing, and that’s... that’s saying something, I think.” His gaze wavers a little bit, scared (he doesn’t want to back down, but there’s that little voice in the back of his head suggesting it, anyway.) at how much worse he could be making this entire situation. “You... You shouldn’t have to do this, you know... It’s... I know you know this, but I’m gonna say it anyway--”
Finally, Min Soo’s stare falters. Almost nonchalantly does it lower, peering down and over to the right with its intentions clear: avoiding Rohan’s gaze. His cheeks puff out slightly, and he very nearly bowed his head as a premature apology.
He doesn’t know why he’s the one scared out of his mind when it should be Rohan that has every single right to be feeling terrible-- to be feeling awful and downright powerless.
Sighing, Min Soo bit his lip (chewed on it for a split second.) before, once more, raising his eyes back up to stare at Rohan.
“It’s... okay if you have to lean on us, even-- even if it just has to be once in every while.”
He tried for a smile, manages to keep it up for approximately five seconds.
“Even though I know you, uh... you don’t like doing that.”
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