On Track | MINSUNG

55

Minho was sure something was going on with Yoonchun and Nayeon. Why was his dad being so nice to her? It was by no means up to Minho's standards of nice, but for his dad's standards, Yoonchun was doing fairly well.

His dad hadn't said a word to Minho since they'd gotten home. Yoonchun had come straight in and turned the TV on, and so Minho sat curled in the corner of the sofa, trying to make himself as small as possible, while his dad stood in the kitchen with Nayeon.

Minho had positioned himself so he had a clear view of the kitchen as long as they didn't shut the kitchen door. But Nayeon hadn't said anything to Minho either, so Minho wondered if they were ignoring him.

Yoonchun and Nayeon moved about the kitchen like they'd done it a thousand times, moving in sync and anticipating the other's next step. There was a fluidity to the way they moved, never overcrowding each other, despite the smallness of the kitchen. It was like a dance, a duet they'd perfected, a sequence they could do in their sleep.

They could almost have been a normal couple, a regular one. One that had been together for years, maybe, and knew each other inside out. Or maybe one that just clicked, who already recognised each other's footsteps despite not being together that long, like Minho and Jisung.

Yoonchun and Nayeon interacted like a regular couple, apart from the way Nayeon picked up after Yoonchun and did all the chores by herself. And the fact it was Yoonchun, which automatically ruled out any notion of any relationship he was ever in as being normal.

Because the way he viewed women, the way he treated his girlfriends, wasn't normal. How could it be, when he also saw them as servants? How could it be, after the way he'd treated Minho's mum?

Which Minho wouldn't ever forget. Not that he'd want to, even if he could. The memories stood as a reminder of how not to behave, of who not to be. Because when Jisung had whispered I worry that I'm destined to repeat my parents' mistakes, that I'l turn out just like Dad what felt like weeks ago, Minho had burnt them into his brain. They lived in the back of head, a reminder of what both he and Jisung were scared of, what they were fighting against.

And how could Minho forget what his dad had done, how he'd treated him and his mum, when his dad was in the kitchen with this new, too-young girlfriend of his, talking about Minho in low voices?

'...Can't catch a fucking ball, Nayeon,' Yoonchun was saying. 'What boy his age can't do that?'

'Not everyone's athletically inclined,' Nayeon responded. Minho couldn't see what she was doing, but he caught glimpses of a knife. 'But catch isn't even a sport. Every little boy plays catch with his dad. And Minho did too, with you, so I don't understand.'

She sighed, taking a step back, and Yoonchun rested a hand on the small of her back. 'Don't get worked up about it, stress isn't good for you.'

Minho screwed his nose up. It was sickly sweet, the way Yoonchun said shit like that, all kind and caring, as if he actually gave a shit about Nayeon.

'I know. But, you know, I wonder about Minho. So many studies have shown the harm gay parents cause to their kids. It stunts their growth, Yoonchun,' Nayeon said urgently, her voice rising slightly.

What studies are those, Nayeon?

'I know. You know I tried to get fucking custody, but the slag got it instead. Nothing I can do but get him as often as possible to get it out of him.'

The digs at his mum hurt the most, Minho found. Maybe because Yoonchun had said those things, called her those names when they'd been married, and it was a bitter reminder of the past. Or maybe it was just as simple as Minho wanting to protect his mum, even if she wasn't around to hear it.