Chapter Text
It had been two weeks since Wonwoo’s computer had been stolen. He eventually realized that Mingyu’s goal was to keep him from writing impulsively again.
Wonwoo’s original plan was to write one piece and move on - from the relationship and from his anger. Yet, all he wanted to do was write another one.
As Wonwoo approached his dorm, he saw that his roommate had ever so kindly left a sock on the door handle. A sigh escaped his lips and he turned back around. His mind buzzed with ideas of where to go next.
The press room was active with students and Wonwoo could get feedback on an article in progress.
It wouldn’t hurt to go there.
The door closed with a soft click . Laughter filled his ears. The room was lit up with lamps and the glow of computer screens. Most of the students hated the harsh lighting the ceiling light provided.
Everyone was grouped into twos, leaning against each other as they gave feedback. Some of them faced each other or in one case, standing on the other’s shoulders.
“Lee Chan,” Wonwoo barked. The youngest of the press association jumped off of his partner’s shoulders. He landed on his shoulder with a groan, hissing as he rolled onto his stomach.
“Heyyy,” Chan awkwardly waved. His purple hair was styled in a middle part, carefully framing his face. His black and gold glasses were askew on his face due to the fall. “It’s a fine, fine day…”
Wonwoo couldn’t help but giggle at the situation. Chan followed after, amused at how things had turned out. Wonwoo glanced around the room. Every table, couch, and bean bag was occupied. He looked at the three spider-web swings that sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
With those being the only seats available, Wonwoo decided to sacrifice his posture and take a seat.
“Won,” Chan whined. He yanked on the swing as he pouted. “How’d you decide on what genre you wanted to write?”
Wonwoo scoffed. “It’s been two years and I still don’t know. Ask someone else.”
“But like, your articles are so good!”
Wonwoo didn’t have time to respond before a third voice entered the conversation.
“His best article was the most recent one, you know,” a woman called out from the other side of the room. She also had purple hair that reached her shoulders. A brown sweater hugged her curvy figure. Instead of a computer like the others, a tablet rested in her lap. “My opinion? He already found his genre.”
“What? Opinions? That doesn’t count,” Chan argued. “Everyone has opinions. No big deal.”
“Sports, dumbass.”
“Hey!”
“Listen. Wonwoo’s article wasn’t just about the soccer player. It was about soccer itself and how this campus produces the most cocky players. He listed the stats of the team. Maybe,” she looked at Wonwoo, “he shouldn't cover every sport. But soccer is definitely in that category.”
Chan kept his mouth shut as he thought about what she said. His elder had found his genre without realizing it.
He wanted the inspiration that Wonwoo had; he knew what it was. Anger. Heartbreak. Chan wasn’t in a relationship, though. His inspiration wouldn’t be as passionate.
He oh so desperately wanted to be in a relationship. Yet, his crush had been dating another man. Chan refused to let himself be a homewrecker. The couple lived together, with a dog, on one of the most beautiful streets in the city. If that didn’t scream out “future family,” Chan didn’t know what did.
“Hey, baby,” Wonwoo nudged Chan. Baby . It wasn’t flirtatious nor romantic. Purely platonic. Chan had accidentally called Wonwoo ‘babe’ on Instagram with a follow up message in all caps, ‘WRONG PERSON’. Three months later, the duo confused strangers with their relationship-like behavior. “What’s on your mind?”
“Them.”
Wonwoo sighed. Chan scoffed, turning his head away from his friend. His white and gray flannel stretched against his shoulder with the movement. Silence filled the air between them. Whilst the other students conversed, neither of them moved an inch. The sound of the podcast instruments being turned on gave the expectant students a rule.
Stay. Quiet.
“I know,” Chan eventually spoke. His voice was hushed and Wonwoo could just barely hear him. “I won’t act on it. Never. Hansol’s happy. Seungkwan’s happy. Imagine if someone came in between you and Mingyu. When y’all were a thing. You’d hate it.”
“Someone did come between us, Chan. He chose her.”
“You’re only proving my point!” Chan’s voice rose. “Now you hate both of them to the point you’ll do anything to make yourself feel better. I can’t have Seungkwan doing that. It's awful .”
Tears began to spill from Chan’s eyes. A simple question turned into an emotional rollercoaster. It summed up Wonwoo’s love life. He pushed the thought aside and wiped Chan’s cheeks.
“I support whatever choice you make, okay? It’ll all work out in the end.”
Wonwoo watched his friend smile as he leaned into his chest.
“I love you,” Chan cried. “You mean so, so much to me.”
“I love you too, baby.”
His feet thudded against the carpeted floor of the dorm hallways. Just a bit more. You’re so close.
Wonwoo’s legs moved faster to his dorm door. The sock on the door handle was gone and the wooden door was cracked open. His eyes threatened to close. He couldn’t fall asleep just yet.
“It’s too heavy,” the voice whined. He pushed the door open and leaned against the wall. His legs threatened to collapse from under him from exhaustion. Jihoon looked at him with concern.
“We’re organizing things,” Jihoon told him. He grabbed Wonwoo by the arm and pulled him to his bed. “You look exhausted.”
Wonwoo’s hea crashed onto his pillow and he felt sleep quickly taking over.
“What about this computer?” Soonyoung asked. He dangled it over the trash, awaiting his boyfriend’s command.
Jihoon hummed.
“Toss it. It’s old anyways.”
Wonwoo’s eyes jolted open at Jihoon’s words. He still didn’t have his computer and he’d rather get hit by three buses before he asked for it back.
“I’ll take it,” he shouted. Soonyoung jumped out of shock and dropped the laptop into the trash. Seeing Wonwoo’s look of pure terror, he grabbed it out of the can.
“Are you sure?” Jihoon quizzed. He looked at both of the men. “It’s really, really old. Just go get yours from Mingyu.”
“Fuck no. I’ll take that one over mine.”
Jihoon rolled his eyes and handed it to the ebony-haired coward.
“I bet Mingyu’s having the time of his life with your laptop. Knowing that you’d never put your pride away to get it.”
“Let him. I’ll find a way to get it back, eventually.”
Jihoon knew that. He knew that Wonwoo would stop at nothing to get his precious, rose gold device back. He also knew that Wonwoo would set the entire world on fire if it meant that he could get real revenge on Mingyu.
“He’s spiraling,” Jihoon whispered.
Soonyoung glanced at his boyfriend, face void of any emotion.
“Did we expect anything else?”