Chapter Text
Minho had done a lot of things for content.
He'd eaten ghost peppers. He'd let Hyunjin wax his leg on camera. He'd once, memorably, spent twenty-four hours in a cardboard box outside Chan's studio just to prove he could. But this... this was on another level.
The camera clicked on with the soft whir of autofocus.
Minho leaned in, dimples flashing under the pale blue LED glow of his gaming room. His hair was styled just enough to look effortless, but anyone who knew Minho would guess he'd spent thirty minutes debating which side to part it on.
"Yooo~ what's up, guys! It's your boy Lee Minho," he drawled, throwing a peace sign at the lens. "Back again in the dungeon—aka my gaming cave, but today's not your usual gameplay or challenge video, nope. Today, we're closing a chapter."
He paused dramatically, raising a brow.
"That's right. This is the grand finale of the Prank Series."
Cue dramatic zoom. He grinned.
"I've pranked Chan hyung with the fake eviction notice. I've pranked Jisung with the possessed doll. I've traumatized Jeongin with my 'haunted mirror.' Hyunjin cried because of the fake pregnancy test. Felix almost fought me for the wax strip incident. Changbin still doesn't speak to me about the hot sauce latte." He counted on his fingers, ticking them off with increasingly smug satisfaction.
"But," Minho said, clasping his hands together, "There is one victim left. One prey I have been saving. One final boss. Our youngest baby—not really. The youtube's little dumpling." His voice softened with mock reverence.
He whispered: "Kim Seungmin."
There was a beat of silence. He looked dead into the lens.
"I'm going to propose to him."
Minho let the words hang. Not as a joke. Not as clickbait. Not entirely.
"I'm going to propose to Seungmin today. On camera. In front of everyone. On one knee. With a whole-ass ring." He pointed at the velvet box on his desk. "Real diamonds, okay?"
He shook his head sighing, considering his life choices. "I swear if he throws water on my face, I'm suing for emotional damage."
He leaned back in his gaming chair, fingers steepled under his chin. "But honestly? I want to make this one memorable. Like... the kind of story our future kids would hear as bedtime lore. Dad lore. 'How dad almost married his best friend.'"
He nodded solemnly to himself.
"Okay. Time to start."
The camera cut to his phone screen. A contact labeled "🐶 Kim Seungmin" lit up. He tapped 'Call.'
"Hello?" came Seungmin's voice, groggy and suspicious.
"Good morning, baby," Minho sang.
"Bye."
Minho snorted. "Hey, hey, don't hang up yet! I need to ask you something."
A moment of silence.
Seungmin sighed. "Go on."
"Would you like to go on a date with me today?" Minho asked, syrupy sweet.
Another pause. Then a sleepy: "...Did you do something wrong?"
Minho held back laughter. "Just say yes."
Seungmin sighed again, heavy like it physically hurt him. "Fine."
Minho whooped. "Wait for real!?"
"Huh? Yes? Wait—what did I agree to—"
"Okay, bye!" Minho hung up before he could process it.
He turned back to the camera, grinning like a madman. "Okay, guys. Step one: complete."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair and briefly glancing down at the small velvet ring box resting in the cup holder beside him.
"Now... Step two." He rubbed his hands together. "Bouquet of roses and pick up the brat for our date. Shouldn't be too hard. "
He took a deep breath, then groaned. "God, he's gonna roast me to hell. Alright. Let's go."
The passenger door opened with a sleepy tug. A half-asleep Seungmin plopped into the seat, hoodie up, sleeves covering half his hands. His hair stuck out in disarray, like he'd just rolled out of bed—which, honestly, he probably had.
He blinked at Minho. Then blinked again at the camera mounted on the dash.
Minho didn't say a word. Just wordlessly leaned over and handed him the bouquet.
Seungmin blinked down at the flowers, bewildered. "...Are you going somewhere?"
Minho, without missing a beat, nodded. "Yeah."
Seungmin frowned, nose scrunching. "Then who's this for?" He lifted the bouquet up and inspected it, suspicious. "Do you have a secret girlfriend or something?"
Minho burst out laughing, covering his mouth as the camera caught the crinkle around his eyes. "It's for you, silly."
Seungmin slowly turned to him, visibly horrified. "What?"
Minho reached over again and took Seungmin's hand, gently lacing their fingers together. "Didn't I tell you? We're going out on a date today. It's our two-year anniversary."
Seungmin stared at their linked hands like they were made of worms. Then he looked at Minho. Then at the camera. And back at Minho.
He yanked his hand away with a noise of disgust. "Are you fucking okay, dude?"
Minho wheezed with laughter, head falling back against the headrest. "I'm amazing, jagiya."
Seungmin leaned away from him with the theatrical disdain of a princess refusing to acknowledge her arranged suitor. I found this line in a book and just had to use it, it sounds so cool.
Minho reached for the steering wheel. "Okay, here's the plan. First, we're stopping by the cafe to grab some breakfast. Then we'll head to the mall for some shopping. That sound good with you?"
Seungmin huffed, muttering something unintelligible into the bouquet. He shifted sideways in the seat, curling slightly toward the roses.
Minho glanced over just as Seungmin murmured, "Yeah, by the way... these smell like nothing."
Minho nearly swerved. "What?!"
Seungmin lifted his head and held up the flowers with one hand. "They're pretty. But, like... you really got me scentless roses?"
"They have a scent!" Minho protested, insulted on behalf of his florist. "They're subtle. Gentle. Romantic."
"They're blank," Seungmin argued, sniffing again with exaggerated disappointment. "You got me fake roses."
"They're real!" Minho cried. "You're just nose-blind because you spent your whole night sleeping face-first in that peppermint pillow I got you."
Seungmin blinked. "Oh... yeah. That makes sense."
He blinked again. Then turned back toward the window like nothing happened. Minho stared at him in disbelief.
"You're not even gonna apologize?"
Seungmin shrugged. "I like the colour."
The soft café music blended in with the air of coffee beans and milk.
Minho held the door open for Seungmin, who shuffled in like a half-conscious sloth, hoodie still drowning his face and the oversized bouquet awkwardly tucked under one arm like a sleepy accessory.
Minho smiled fondly behind him as he guided Seungmin to one of the window seats. The sunlight streamed in delicately, highlighting the boy's mussed-up hair and sleepy pout.
"I'm gonna get our drinks," Minho said, gently patting his head.
Seungmin groaned, slumping into the chair. "Get me my usual or I'll kill you."
"Yes, Your Highness." Minho rolled his eyes fondly and left for the counter.
With an exaggerated sigh and zero ceremony, Seungmin reached for Minho's camera, still running from the dash setup. He turned the lens toward himself lazily.
"Okay so hey guys," he said, voice raspy, "It's Seungmin here. Your favorite boy, hopefully."
He yawned, eyes blinking slowly as he adjusted the focus with the tips of his sleeves. "I—what was I saying? Yeah, hello."
He sniffled, rubbing his eye lazily with the back of his hand.
"We're here at the café. Minho-hyung's buying us coffee. He said we're on a date. I think we're on a date? He kind of just kidnapped me with flowers and vibes. But whatever. I didn't resist enough to sue, so maybe that's on me."
The camera zoomed in slightly, as Seungmin leaned closer, whispering in a mock conspiracy tone.
"Look. That's him."
He twisted the camera toward the counter, slowly zooming in on Minho, who was smiling politely at the cashier while handing over a shiny black card. His fingers gestured lightly as he confirmed the order.
"Paying with his nepotism money," Seungmin narrated. "Look at him. So confident. So shameless. So financially stable."
The camera zoomed again. Minho, oblivious, was chatting with the barista about oat milk. Probably.
Seungmin brought the camera back to himself, curling one leg beneath him on the chair.
"Anyways," he continued, voice quieter now, "I also didn't take a shower this morning. Took one last night though, so hopefully that suffices. If Minho hyung says I smell, he's lying. It's my hoodie. It's vintage." He sniffed himself. "Okay maybe like slightly sour."
He adjusted the focus again, now full rambly-mode. "Also, finished watching Squid Game season three. Absolutely horrible. Don't recommend. Hyun Ju dies and I need an emotional refund. The writing was mid, the pacing was bad, my mood? Ruined. Give me back my seven hours, Netflix."
He took a deep breath, as if preparing for another rant. "Also I went to—"
But his words were cut off when a warm weight landed atop his head. A chin. Attached to a smirking Minho, who now hovered behind him, two coffees in hand and staring directly at the camera.
Seungmin gave the lens a deadpan look, completely unimpressed. Then slowly looked up at the human furniture currently balancing on him.
"You good?" Minho asked, grinning. "Having fun telling the people I kidnapped you?"
Seungmin tilted his head slightly. "Why are you standing on me."
Minho set the coffees down and moved to sit opposite, still chuckling. "You were being too cute. Had to ground you."
"Cringe," Seungmin muttered, though his voice lacked venom. He reached for his cup and gave it a test sniff. "Okay, this is acceptable. You remembered the order."
Minho raised a brow, clearly offended. "I've only been ordering your plain, bitter, no-sugar nightmare blend for two years. Give me some credit."
"Congrats on doing the bare minimum in a friendship," Seungmin deadpanned, then took a careful sip. His eyes fluttered half-closed, savoring the heat.
Minho took his own drink and leaned back. "So. Café breakfast-coffee? Check. Next stop: mall."
Seungmin groaned. "Are you gonna make me hold hands with you in public?"
"Yes," Minho said without pause.
Seungmin stared at him. "I'm not even sure if this is a real date. You woke me up, shoved flowers in my arms, and said we're dating."
Minho blinked. "We've been dating for two years."
"Oh my god, can you stop that."
The mall was air-conditioned heaven. It was only half full, which made it perfect for casual wandering.
Or, in this case, romantic scheming disguised as casual wandering. That sounded really cool.
Minho held the door open for Seungmin, who stepped in begrudgingly, holding the coffee he still hadn't finished.
Minho followed, camera in one hand, trying to look inconspicuous as he vlogged.
"Alright," he said into the lens. "Step three: Shopping. Operation: makeover my bestie but make it subtle. Gonna act like it's all 'funny' and 'for the bit' but really... he's going home with ten new fits because I'm an amazing future Husband."
He turned the camera toward Seungmin, who was staring at a window display full of oversized cable-knit sweaters in soft browns and greys. His nose wrinkled slightly. "That one looks like it's knitted from grandma regret."
Minho walked up behind him, peering over his shoulder. "Or... maybe it would look insanely good on you?"
Seungmin glanced at him. "Why are you complimenting me so early in the day? Are you dying?"
Minho grinned. "Not yet. But you might be when I make you try on stuff."
They started wandering. The first store was all chaotic graphic tees and jeans with questionable rips. Seungmin looked disgusted the moment they stepped in.
Minho grabbed a shirt that said "MILF IN TRAINING" and held it up. "You think this is your vibe?"
Seungmin didn't even blink. "That's more your vibe, Minho-hyung."
Minho looked at the shirt. "You know what. Fair."
They moved on to a cleaner, more minimal store. Monochrome tones, wide-leg trousers, cozy knits, and soft collared shirts. Seungmin lit up the moment he walked in, trailing his fingers across the fabric.
Minho trailed behind with an armful of clothes. Every time Seungmin paused a little longer in front of something, Minho snatched it off the rack. Sweaters, half-zips, creamy soft sweatpants, boxy cardigans. Even a pair of brown dress shoes Seungmin probably wouldn't wear more than once. But Minho didn't care.
He told himself it was for the bit.
But it wasn't. Not really.
. . .
"Okay, okay, come out now," Minho said, camera in hand.
The stall door creaked open.
Seungmin stepped out in a beige knit vest over a pale blue shirt, sleeves rolled up, tucked into pleated slacks that hugged his waist way too well. His hair was still messy but somehow framed his face perfectly.
Minho's mouth went dry.
He swallowed hard and quickly zoomed in with the camera. "Okay, okay sir—where's your trust fund? Where's your inheritance lawsuit?"
Seungmin rolled his eyes and tugged at the shirt. "It's itchy."
"You're itchy."
"You're broke."
Minho wheezed. "I'm literally not."
Seungmin turned to look at himself in the mirror, lifting his arms and shifting a bit. He looked... weirdly shy. His gaze dropped to the hem of the shirt. "...I don't think I can pull this off."
Minho lowered the camera slightly.
"Yes, you can."
Seungmin turned, brow raised.
"I mean it." Minho shrugged, casual. Too casual. "You look great. Like. Genuinely."
Seungmin gave him a look, like he was searching for the prank in the compliment. Minho met his eyes for a second too long.
"...You're being weird today," Seungmin finally muttered, disappearing back into the stall.
Minho smiled to himself and mumbled to the camera, "I know."
. . .
The cashier scanned item after item... shirts, sweaters, trousers, socks, a ridiculous fluffy beanie Seungmin insisted was just for a joke but secretly liked. The total kept climbing. Seungmin stood beside Minho, obliviously texting someone while Minho pulled out his card.
When the receipt printed out, it was long. Like scroll-worthy long.
Seungmin only noticed as they exited the store.
"Wait. Why is this bag so heavy—" he stopped mid-step. "Hyung."
Minho was already speed walking ahead. "Keep up, jagiya~!"
"Minho hyung! Did you seriously buy everything?!"
"It's our anniversary!" Minho yelled back.
"WE'RE BEST FRIENDS—"
"Exactly!" Minho turned around, walking backward now with the smuggest grin. "I'm just being a good best friend. Is it my fault I have excellent taste and a working credit card?"
Seungmin caught up, shoving the bag at his chest. "You're insane. I look like I'm being kept."
"You are," Minho said, under his breath, but too quiet for Seungmin to hear. He took the bag back with a grin. "Don't worry. I'll carry it."
Seungmin squinted at him. "This is some slow-burn sugar daddy pipeline shit."
Minho gave him a wink. "A little sugar never hurt anyone."
"Gross."
They started walking again, side by side, Seungmin quietly sipping the last of his coffee.
"...Thanks, though," he mumbled.
Minho tilted his head. "Hm?"
Seungmin didn't look at him. "The clothes. And breakfast. And all this. I mean... even if you're being weird today."
Minho smiled. "Anytime, Min."
He meant it. Every damn word.
The cinema was just a few blocks away from the mall.
Minho parked the car, turning off the engine with a pleased sigh. "Alright," he grinned, "final stop before dinner."
Seungmin stared up at the glittering movie posters hanging above the entrance. "You booked us for this?"
Minho followed his gaze. The poster showed a dramatic couple posing. A tagline in bold read: "The Idea Of You"
Seungmin blinked. "Minho-hyung."
"Yes, baby?"
"This looks like an AI-generated Wattpad fic."
Minho beamed. "Perfect date material."
Seungmin let out a long, slow exhale. "You're lucky I'm already tired."
They stepped inside the cool theater lobby. Popcorn scent hit them instantly, hot butter, melted cheese, and overpriced capitalism. Seungmin's eyes went straight to the snack bar.
"I'm getting snacks," he said, already walking. Then paused. "Give me your card."
Minho blinked. "No please?"
Seungmin extended his hand flat, no expression. "Hyung. Card. Now."
Minho sighed like a martyr and handed over his black card. "Don't buy the whole stand."
"I make no promises," Seungmin called over his shoulder.
Once he disappeared into the line, Minho turned the camera toward himself.
"Okay," he whispered. "Update time. Step four: movie date. Successful mall heist complete. My wallet's crying, but Seungmin looks amazing. Cafe brunch? Check. No water thrown on my face so far? Double check. I think he suspects something, but... not enough to ruin it. Which is perfect."
He adjusted the camera slightly, voice softening.
"I know this is dumb. Like—'ha ha, prank your best friend by proposing to him'—dumb. But I had to find a way to tell him. I couldn't just do it on a normal day. I needed to make it ours. A weird, expensive, over-the-top day that feels like us."
He sighed, smiling faintly. "Even if he says no... at least he'll know. And I'll stop pretending this is just friendship. For once."
Before he could say more, a rustling plastic bag hit his arm.
"Why are you vlogging so much today?" Seungmin asked, eyebrow arched.
Minho turned the camera quickly to catch Seungmin holding a large popcorn, two drinks, a hot dog, a churro, and a bag of sour gummies.
Minho laughed. "Because I want memories of your crimes."
"You're so weird today," Seungmin muttered, walking past him. "Come on, before you start crying over lighting angles."
Inside the theatre.
Their screen was barely half full, some couples, a few girls whispering at the back, and two old ladies already unwrapping candies like it was warfare.
They found their seats. Middle row, center. Prime for neck-breaking romance and Minho's silent internal crisis.
Seungmin shoved the popcorn between them and curled into his hoodie, drink wedged into the holder. The lights dimmed. Trailers played.
The movie began.
Ten minutes in, Seungmin leaned over. "Why is he in a band? Ugh I swear if it's anything like that weird movie I watched last week, I'll throw hands. "
Minho stifled a laugh. "Keep the hands in my hands instead."
"I'm good."
Another ten minutes.
"Wait. Are they dating?"
Minho squinted. "No, isn't she kinda old..?"
"I think that's the entire point of the film"
By thirty minutes in, they were whisper-laughing nonstop. Seungmin narrated the dramatic dialogue with a flat voice. Minho mimicked the male lead's intense stare with his own exaggerated version, practically falling into Seungmin's lap.
Eventually, Seungmin went quiet.
Minho turned to check on him and found the boy slouched down in his seat, eyes drooping, head lolling slightly toward Minho's shoulder.
He smiled.
Seungmin's head lightly bumped his arm. Minho froze, then shifted just enough to let him rest fully. He didn't care about the film. Couldn't even hear it anymore.
His entire focus was on the boy snoring softly beside him.
He wondered what it would feel like if this were real. If Seungmin looked at him the same way Minho looked at him. If this dumb fake-date could become something more.
He didn't even notice the movie ending until the credits started rolling.
. . .
They walked side by side again, the sky beginning to shift into soft evening hues. Seungmin had woken up with a dramatic stretch at the end.
"That film," Seungmin said, "was so bad."
Minho laughed. "I kind of liked it."
Seungmin shuddered. "Of course you did."
"Of course I did. I watched it with you."
Seungmin snorted. "You owe me, by the way. Compensation"
"I bought you a churro," Minho said.
"Not enough."
"I also bought you a new wardrobe."
"I tolerated a movie that set romance back by twenty years."
Minho bumped their shoulders. "You're so dramatic."
"You bought a ticket to this! Who's the real menace here?"
They laughed together, the kind of quiet, easy laughter that only came with years of familiarity.
Minho glanced at his watch. 6:48 p.m.
Dinner was next.
Then the ring.
Then the question.
He looked at Seungmin, hoodie up, messy hair catching the golden hour light, arms folded like he hadn't just napped on Minho's shoulder ten minutes ago.
Minho smiled to himself.
"Let's go," he said. "One last stop."
The restaurant Minho picked was quiet, tucked into a sloping street corner that didn't even look like it belonged in the city.
It was the kind of place Seungmin would normally never agree to—too fancy, too romantic, too not me, hyung—but today, for some reason, he didn't complain.
Just looked up at it with furrowed brows and muttered, "Where are we?"
Minho only smiled and held the door open.
Inside, the lighting was low, golden, everything warm and honey-soft. Soft jazz played under the low murmur of a few couples. The hostess greeted them kindly and led them to a small table near a window. A single candle flickered in the center. There were rose petals scattered gently across the white cloth.
Minho pretended not to see the way Seungmin froze.
"Okay what the fuck," Seungmin whispered once they sat, staring at the setup. "Minho-hyung. Why is this place so romantic."
Minho choked slightly on his water. "Hah, right? So romantic, wow."
Seungmin squinted at him, suspicious. "You're being really weird today."
"You've told me that ten times."
"Because you are."
Minho gestured dramatically toward the menu. "Focus on the real question: What are we eating?"
Seungmin shook his head, but he did glance down at the menu. "...You're paying."
"I always pay."
"You're a clown," Seungmin said, but there was no bite in it. Just tired fondness. "But fine. Let's get the risotto. Fancy clown."
Minho grinned, his nerves settling under the comfort of Seungmin's voice. He gave the waiter their order and tried not to tap his fingers against his thigh the entire time.
The meal came quickly, steaming plates of truffle risotto, warm bread, delicate salad. Seungmin perked up around the food, eyes brighter, shoulders less tense.
"This isn't bad," he admitted, chewing thoughtfully.
"High praise from you."
"I expected it to be pretentious. Like edible foam or some shit."
Minho chuckled. "Don't worry. I checked the menu beforehand to avoid any... culinary crimes."
They ate slowly, letting conversation drift lazily between them. Work, classes, how Seungmin had started rewatching his favorite anime just to escape reality. He teased Minho about his chaotic driving and bad posture. Minho teased him about his 9 p.m. bedtime and devotion to plain coffee.
Everything felt so normal. So painfully them.
Minho didn't know if that made it easier or harder.
When dessert came—a delicate little cake with raspberry drizzle—Seungmin looked at him with narrowed eyes.
"You're definitely hiding something."
Minho leaned forward, elbow on the table. "What makes you say that?"
"Because you've been staring at me like you're trying to memorize my soul."
Minho blinked. "Maybe I am."
Seungmin stared. His expression flickered for half a second, just the briefest stutter in his usual wall. But then he looked away, grabbing his fork.
"You're being sentimental. I hate it."
Minho smiled.
Perfect.
The dinner had been good. Surprisingly good.
Seungmin didn't like romantic atmospheres—not that he'd admit it—but something about the flickering candlelight and Minho across from him, elbows on the table, soft glow catching on the edges of his smile, it made the food taste warmer. Or maybe he was just too tired to be a hater tonight.
They were finishing dessert, a delicate raspberry mousse that Minho had ordered with zero discussion, somehow knowing exactly what Seungmin would agree to with minimal protest. The air between them was comfortably quiet.
Minho was jittery in a way Seungmin couldn't quite place. His fingers tapping against the side of his water glass. His foot bouncing under the table. His eyes darting, not in a sketchy way, but in a way that said he was waiting for something. Or building up to it.
Then, as Seungmin spooned the final bite into his mouth, Minho stood.
"Be right back," he said too casually and disappeared behind a waiter.
Seungmin blinked, mouth full, watching his hyung talk urgently to one of the servers. There was a quiet exchange, some nodding, and then, Minho handed him the vlogging camera.
Seungmin frowned.
The waiter took the camera and angled it toward the table.
Minho turned back toward him. Then paused. Then took a slow, deep breath.
And dropped onto one knee.
In the middle of the restaurant.
Right beside Seungmin's chair.
Right in front of the vlogging camera.
The room immediately gasped. Chairs scraped, glasses paused mid-sip. Someone whispered "oh my god, is this a proposal?" and another person squealed audibly. The soft piano music in the background felt like it had timed itself for this exact fucking moment.
Seungmin stared at him. Not moving. Not blinking. Fork still in his mouth.
Minho smiled—nervous, trembling slightly. But determined. Ridiculously soft in the face like he'd rehearsed this moment in his head a hundred times and every version had ended right here, at Seungmin's feet.
"Min," he said, voice warm and stupidly fond. "I know this looks like another prank. And yeah, okay, technically it started that way—"
"Oh my god," Seungmin croaked, still chewing.
Minho kept going. "—But halfway through the planning I realized it wasn't funny anymore. It just felt real. It felt like something I wanted to do anyway. And I thought... screw it. If I'm gonna ask you to spend your life with me, I might as well do it in a way that's as chaotic and weird and us as possible."
He pulled out the ring box from his jacket.
Seungmin froze, the color draining from his face.
Minho opened it. A ring. Fucking diamond.
The restaurant held its breath.
Minho smiled gently. "You're my favorite person. You drive me insane, and you never text back, and you're the pickiest eater I've ever met, and you insult me with your whole chest even when I'm complimenting you—"
Seungmin blinked, slowly lowering his fork, unsure if this was a food coma hallucination or a hidden camera stunt.
"—but I love you. I'm in love with you. And if you'll let me... I want to keep loving you. Forever. Through everything. For real."
He took a breath. Voice soft now.
"Kim Seungmin... will you marry me?"
A beat.
Silence.
Then—
"Say yes!" someone shouted from across the room.
"Say yes!!" another person chimed in.
"HE'S CUTE, SAY YES!!"
Suddenly, the entire restaurant had burst into a soft chorus of cheers and chants, clapping lightly, laughing, some even recording. The candlelight flickered across a hundred curious, giddy faces.
And in the middle of it all sat Seungmin.
Half asleep.
Half full of mousse.
One third convinced he was dreaming.
"...What," he said softly. "Is this a prank?"
Minho just looked up at him, patient.
"No?" he said. "But kind of? But not really."
Seungmin stared at him. Then the ring. Then the camera.
Then the ring again.
"Are you okay," he whispered.
"No," Minho smiled, "I'm in love with you."
Seungmin blinked. His hand moved on its own, reaching out slowly.
"I don't know what's happening," he murmured. "But fine. Yes."
A collective gasp went through the room.
Minho laughed in disbelief.
His hands were shaking slightly as he slipped the ring onto Seungmin's finger, then brought the hand up to kiss the knuckle, eyes shining with something close to awe.
Everyone clapped. The waiter whistled. A woman at the next table wiped a tear.
Seungmin looked around, dazed. Then stared down at the ring.
"...Did I just agree to marry you?"
Minho stood up, eyes soft. "You did."
Seungmin looked even more confused. "Why?"
Minho leaned down, brushing their foreheads together.
"Because you love me," he said quietly. "Even if you don't know it yet."
Seungmin opened his mouth. Closed it. Then looked back at the camera pointed right at them.
"Oh my god," he whispered. "You're going to upload this."
"I already have a title," Minho grinned. "I Proposed to My Best Friend (He Said Yes. Question mark. Exclaimation mark. Question mark. Crying emoji. Ring emoji.)"
Seungmin groaned into his hands.
"...You are so lucky I'm too full to fight you right now."
Minho laughed and hugged him, full-bodied, warm and unapologetically tight. The kind of hug that said I'm not letting you go ever again.
Seungmin hugged him back immediately and cried in his arms.