cherry club 🍒 minsung

five

[ honeypot ]

Jisung tossed his microphone from hand to hand, waiting for their cue. He felt Chan watching him and knew it was a matter of time before his motherly instincts kicked in, and his mic was confiscated. 3racha was once again at Cherry Club, with Minho and Felix nowhere to be found. Woojin, the stage manager, told them that the aloof dancers would be performing with them, but Jisung hadn't seen Minho enter or exit the club (not that he was checking, definitely not).

"Jisung, please. If you drop that, I will never forgive you," Chan scolded quietly, grabbing Jisung's mic and placing it in a safer position. Jisung pouted sadly but stopped his anxious flipping. Chan was right. Each 3racha member had custom in-ear pieces and microphones that were not cheap. Jisung's glittery pink mic was almost two hundred dollars, not to mention the decals and the quality. Chan's mic was navy blue, Changbin's black. Jisung wanted them to all have matching glitter mics, but Changbin downright refused. He said Felix could be the glitter bearer of the two, and Jisung agreed that glitter fit Felix more than buff, muscly, bad boy Changbin.

"Please welcome our special guests, 3racha!"

Chan pushed the door open, and the three bounced on stage. The crowd was dull, unsurprising of a Sunday work night. The majority of people were dolled up in fancy business suits, probably looking for an escape from the stress of weekend hour jobs. Jisung wasn't worried about them, though, not when Minho strutted down the catwalk, head high and heels higher. The crowd perked up at the mention of their favorite dancer, cash dangling from fists and peeking from waistbands. Jealousy knotted his stomach when Minho reached with teasing fingers to grab the money. He would have missed his cue if Chan hadn't slammed into his frozen body, knocking him back to the present. If he rapped angrier than he had his entire life, no one needed to know. And if his glares lingered a bit longer on the men in the front row, he wouldn't mention it.

Minho eventually made his way to the center stage, eyes uncertain. Jisung knew he wanted to be as far away from them as possible, but he still came. Money was money, after all.

Minho took his place by Jisung's side, playing with the zipper on his skinny jeans and licking at his neck. Jisung's hands grabbed Minho's exposed waist, pushing him to face the crowd and feeling down his torso, further, further, until Minho slapped his hand away. The dancer's cheeks were pink, and it wasn't from the colorful strobe lights.

"We should talk," Jisung whispered, pulling Minho into his body by his ass. "Why did you block me?"

Minho shook his head and swung his hips. "I didn't block you, my phone-"

"Come on over, kitten! Daddy’s got some sugar for you," someone yelled. Minho glanced over his shoulder at the thick stack of cash and pranced from Jisung's hold. Jisung could only watch him go.

Jisung was hyperfocused on Minho for the rest of the performance. Every move, breath, smile was noted in Jisung's subconscious like a photograph. God, he would put Aphrodite to shame, glittering under the neon lights and playful smile on display. 3racha exited the stage with Felix and Minho by their sides. Felix was ignoring Changbin's attempts at conversation in favor of speaking English with a very amused Chan. Minho was silent.

"I'm sorry about what Bambam said. I promise he got what he deserved for it," Jisung apologized when the silence became too much. Minho's eyes widened in shock, and Jisung hid the bruises staining his knuckles. Minho, ever the perceptive one, already saw them.

"Sungie, did you hit him?" Minho hissed, dragging them to the bar where the music was quieter.

"He may be a bit messed up, but that's not the point. What he said was out of line, and I need you to know that I don't see you-"