Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Hyung,” Minghao says as soon as Jeonghan answers, in his familiar soft voice. “Are you busy?”

“Hm?” Jeonghan takes a look around the living room, where he hasn’t moved from the couch yet and has been planning to spend the rest of the day. “No. Why?”

“Come take a walk with me,” Minghao says. “I want to go to the botanical garden.”

“Now?” Jeonghan asks. He probably needs to wash his hair for the botanical garden.

“I thought maybe we could leave in an hour,” Minghao says. Jeonghan can hear him smiling as he says it, like he knows exactly what Jeonghan was thinking. He knows Jeonghan so well, now.

“Alright, then,” Jeonghan agrees. He’s not really any good at saying no to Minghao — he wonders if Minghao knows that, too.

The trails are nice — Jeonghan likes walking, and he likes being with Minghao. It’s just that he hadn’t expected Minghao to call him. He hadn’t realized they could still do things like this.

“You seem worried,” Minghao comments. Jeonghan laughs nervously.

“Why would I be worried?” he asks, just to be contrary. Minghao raises an eyebrow, not buying it.

“I don’t know, why would you?” he counters. Jeonghan scowls, caught, and Minghao laughs. Jeonghan wrinkles his nose.

“I can’t just enjoy the scenery, hm? I can’t do that?”

Minghao laughs even harder at that, obviously not fooled in the slightest, and nudges Jeonghan’s elbow a little with his. Emboldened by the gesture, Jeonghan slips his arm through Minghao’s. Minghao lets him, not seeming bothered at all.

“Is this okay?” Jeonghan asks after a quiet moment, the two of them still walking arm-in-arm.

“Is what okay?” Minghao asks, looking over at Jeonghan with a confused expression.

“This,” Jeonghan says, squeezing Minghao’s arm with his own to draw attention to where they’re touching. He tries not to let any discomfort show on his face — it makes him feel stupid to ask, but he needs to know. Minghao’s always been the one to set the boundaries between them.

“Of course,” Minghao says, still looking confused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Jeonghan shrugs uncertainly, not sure he likes the searching way Minghao is looking at him.

“Hyung,” Minghao says, coming to a stop and bringing Jeonghan along with him, dragged back where their arms are linked. “We’re friends, aren’t we? You’ll always be my friend,” Minghao says, his voice very serious.

Jeonghan tries not to flush, looking away and nodding with another awkward laugh. Minghao squeezes his arm again, companionable, and starts to walk again.

“How’s it going with Junhui?” Minghao asks after a moment. It’s a clear attempt at a diversion, and Jeonghan appreciates the kindness.

“It’s good,” Jeonghan answers honestly. Junhui’s a little awkward but he’s polite enough, and when he makes dinner he makes enough for two. He texts Jeonghan to tell him it’s ready every time — it’s touching, and more thoughtful than Jeonghan expected.

“I’m glad,” Minghao says with a smile. “You should invite me over again some time. I want to see both of you.”

“Okay,” Jeonghan says easily. “I’m looking forward to it,” he adds, and finds he really means it.

“So can I finally come visit now, or are you still living in mystery?” Hyesoo asks, her face bright through the phone screen. “The fact that you’re video calling me for once seems like a good sign.”

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh.

“I’m living in a place with no cockroaches, so feel free,” he says.

“Ew, oppa,” Hyesoo cringes, her whole face crinkling up with exaggerated disgust. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, anymore,” Jeonghan says, laughing again at the look of judgment on Hyesoo’s face. It smoothes out into something a little more serious as he watches, and Hyesoo bites her lip, clearly thinking.

“Well, as long as it’s all good now, I guess,” she says, finally.

“It is,” Jeonghan agrees.

“You’re still single though, right?”

“Please stop asking me that,” Jeonghan says pleasantly, and now it’s Hyesoo’s turn to snort. “I don’t ask you.”

“Fine, fine,” she laughs. “I’ll stop, I swear.”

Jeonghan fakes a salute at her, keeping a straight face even as Hyesoo giggles through her own in return.

On Friday evening, Jeonghan collapses face-first on the couch after work with a dramatic whine.

Junhui makes a questioning sound from the kitchen, pausing where he’s been wrestling for dominance over a square of saran wrap — Jeonghan isn’t actually sure what Junhui does for a living, but he works weird hours, is always home first.

“Everything good?” he asks when Jeonghan just whines harder into the couch cushions instead of saying anything, kicking his feet a little for emphasis.

“Product recall,” Jeonghan moans, finally, shifting to his back so he can stare lifelessly at the ceiling, one arm dropping down to the floor for dramatic emphasis.

“Which one?” Junhui asks, doing an impressive job at feigning interest.

“All carrot-sweet potato units manufactured between December 20th and January 7th,” Jeonghan recites lifelessly. After the day he’s had, just saying the words out loud is enough to send a shiver down his spine.

Junhui hums thoughtfully. There’s a pause, and Jeonghan hears him open the fridge door for a moment, then close it again.

“Looks like we’ve got a few in here,” he reports. Jeonghan makes another wordless despairing sound.

“ … I’ll get rid of those now, then,” Junhui says, and Jeonghan lets his wail taper off into a noise of acknowledgment.

He lets Junhui’s soup soothe — or rather, sweat out — some of his stress, crawling into bed as soon as the dishes are washed and thanking whoever’s listening that he doesn’t have to monitor the phones over the weekend. Maybe when he goes back to the office on Monday, by some miracle, the young mothers of South Korea will have already forgotten all about the carrot-sweet potato incident.

The buzzing of his phone wakes him before he’s even fallen asleep. Jeonghan squints at the screen in confusion, a little peeved, as he swipes to unlock it.

Seo Myungho
[Location Attached]
[Go to the spot | Route Search]
11:17 PM

Seo Myungho
can you come?
11:17 PM

The message from Minghao is unexpected enough to be concerning and Jeonghan stares at it for a moment, his irritation fading into something closer to panic, before he types out a hasty reply and kicks his way out from under the blanket, grabbing a sweatshirt on his way out of his room.

The location Minghao’s sent him is a bar not too far from his apartment. Jeonghan doesn’t know what to expect when he slips in the door, trying to be inconspicuous in his sweatpants and slides, but when he finally spots Minghao he looks — fine. It’s a little weird for him to be drinking alone in a bar, definitely, but he doesn’t look out of control. His eyes are clear enough when Jeonghan comes over to him, at least.

“Yah, Myungho-yah. What’s all this about?” Jeonghan asks, feigning lightness as he slides in next to him.

“It’s nothing,” Minghao mutters, clearly embarrassed, pushing the glass in front of him away as he turns toward Jeonghan. “Let’s just go, come on.”

Jeonghan stares at him for a moment, assessing, before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” he says, sliding right back out so Minghao can squeeze his way around him to pay.

They quietly make their way out to the sidewalk, Jeonghan pulling out his phone to call for a taxi.

He’s trying to figure out a delicate way to ask Minghao what happened when they’re interrupted by someone calling Minghao’s name, both of their heads turning toward the sound in unison.

It’s Mingyu — he looks flustered, cheeks flushed and hair in disarray, socked feet stuffed into a pair of slides like he ran out in a hurry.

Jeonghan glances over at Minghao, confused — did he call both of them? But Minghao looks just as confused, his eyebrows knit together and his mouth dropped open just slightly.

“Mingyu?” Minghao asks, when Mingyu comes to a stop in front of him. Mingyu reaches out a hand and falters, the awkwardness of the situation clearly catching up with him. He clears his throat, drawing his hand back to run it through his hair instead.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Minghao frowns, still looking lost.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Hyung’s here. How did you — ”

Mingyu blinks, looking over at Jeonghan, seeming to register his presence for the first time. He falters even more, his earlier determination visibly fading.

“Jungah called me,” he says weakly. “She thought maybe it was like — before.”

Minghao makes a face, mouth twisting in embarrassment.

“It wasn’t,” he mutters, glancing back towards the door of the bar. “She didn’t have to do that.”

“She was just worried,” Mingyu says carefully. Jeonghan feels like he’s intruding, hearing something he shouldn’t. He clears his throat awkwardly, and they both turn to look at him.

“Taxi’s coming,” he says uselessly, and Minghao nods in acknowledgment before turning towards Mingyu.

“Do you want to come back with us?”

Jeonghan blinks, surprised. Mingyu looks startled, too, and his eyes flick over to Jeonghan before he focuses back on Minghao.

“If that’s okay,” he says slowly.

When the taxi comes Minghao claims the front seat immediately, leaving the backseat for Mingyu and Jeonghan. Mingyu holds the door open for Jeonghan, letting him slide across the seats before he follows, clumsily folding himself in. The backseat seems much smaller once Mingyu is inside, his long legs bent up awkwardly to fit.

After a moment Jeonghan glances at Mingyu’s feet, then his own. Mingyu catches him looking and follows Jeonghan’s gaze with a curious expression, huffing out a laugh when he gets it. They’re dressed the same — sweatpants, slides, socks pulled up high — both of them clearly dropped everything to drag themselves out when they got the message.

“Nice pants,” Mingyu comments, and Jeonghan laughs, too.

“You should have grabbed your hat,” he says. Mingyu reaches up to touch at his head, his eyebrows knit together. Jeonghan laughs again, taking pity on him, and reaches up to fix it for him as best as he can.

“Thanks,” Mingyu says quietly.

“Of course,” Jeonghan says.

At Minghao’s apartment building they both follow him in, his twin silent shadows. Minghao doesn’t acknowledge them, but if he’s bothered by their presence he doesn’t say anything, holding the door of his apartment open after he punches in the code so Jeonghan and Mingyu can follow him in.

After they’ve all toed off their shoes and shuffled into the living room, Minghao pauses, looking over at the both of them.

“I want to go to bed,” he says plainly. Jeonghan doesn’t push — Minghao looks exhausted, something fragile in the set of his mouth. Mingyu makes a little sound of acknowledgment behind him, clearly sensing it too.

“You go on,” Jeonghan says. Minghao doesn’t even ask what either of them are planning on doing, just nods and slips into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

Jeonghan turns to Mingyu, then, not sure what happens next.

“Are you going to stay with him?” Mingyu asks, voice soft and hesitant.

Jeonghan nods, not even pausing to think about it. Mingyu bites his lip, considering.

“I don’t — ” Mingyu huffs out out an embarrassed laugh, looking away. “It would make me feel better if I stayed, too.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan says with a shrug. He’s probably not going to sleep much, anyway, so it’s not like it matters whether Mingyu’s snoring next to him or not. “I’m taking the couch, though,” he adds, because he isn’t willing to concede that.

“Of course you are,” Mingyu says. He punctuates it with an eye-roll, but the way his mouth twists into a little smile after he says it gives him away. “Sorry,” he adds after a moment, for no reason Jeonghan can think of. “I don’t mean to intrude, I know you two are….” Mingyu gestures vaguely, and Jeonghan stares at him.

“You’re not intruding,” Jeonghan says slowly. “We’re not anything. We’re friends.”

Mingyu makes a little noise of disagreement.

“If we were something else, do you really think I’d be crashing on the couch right now?” Jeonghan points out, and Mingyu pauses to consider that, a serious wrinkle between his brows.

“I don’t know what you’re like,” he says, finally, and Jeonghan scoffs.

“Of course you do,” he says.

Mingyu pauses, a funny expression on his face, before he lets out a rueful laugh.

“Alright,” he concedes, stretching out on the floor with a sigh. Jeonghan takes pity on him, throwing down an extra throw pillow before he curls up on the couch.

“There’s an extra blanket in the hall closet if you need it,” he says, eyes already closed.

“I know,” Mingyu says, after another pause. Jeonghan hums in acknowledgment, already mostly asleep. He doesn’t stay awake long enough to see if Mingyu gets up for the blanket or not.

He wakes up to the sounds of Minghao getting ready, blinking his eyes open to find him creeping past Jeonghan towards the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Minghao whispers, wincing when he realizes Jeonghan’s awake. Jeonghan shakes his head, yawning so violently his jaw cracks with the force of it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. He squints at Minghao, trying to get a good look at him. “You okay?”

Minghao makes a little noise in his throat, one shoulder coming up towards his ear.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Jeonghan pats around the couch to find his phone, then looks back up at Minghao.

“Well, tough shit, because the gang’s all here,” he says, kicking lightly at Mingyu’s shoulder as he says it. Mingyu snorts and rolls over, undisturbed, his mouth dropped open in sleep. He never got the blanket — Jeonghan sighs, reaching for the one he kicked aside in the night and dropping it onto Mingyu’s prone body.

Minghao breathes out a fond laugh.

“You might be spared, though,” Jeonghan says, stretching his arms over his head. “It’ll be at least another forty-five minutes before he’s up for real. Plenty of time to escape.”

He heaves himself up off the couch, finally, and when he looks up Minghao’s staring at him curiously.

“What,” Jeonghan says, reaching up to touch at his face in concern. “Did I sleep weird?”

“How do you know how Mingyu wakes up?” Minghao asks slowly, eyes narrowing. Jeonghan freezes.

“Ah,” he laughs nervously. “What’s that look for? We’re friends, right? Friends know things like that.”

Minghao doesn’t look convinced.

“Do they?” he says skeptically. Jeonghan shrugs, picking his way around Mingyu to come stand closer to him.

“Want to leave him here and go get coffee?” he asks, not giving any more of an answer than he has to. Minghao’s eyes are still narrowed in suspicion but he nods, slowly, and Jeonghan tries not to let his relief show on his face.

“Brush your teeth first,” Minghao says. Jeonghan lets out a hushed little laugh as Minghao rolls his eyes and pushes him towards the bathroom. “I’ll wait by the door.”

Mingyu’s finally awake when they get back, sitting up on the floor and blinking blearily up at them.

“Where did you go?” he grumbles, yawning and rubbing at one eye. His hair is a mess, sticking up in tufts all over his head. It’s a familiar sight, and Jeonghan isn’t sure how that makes him feel.

Minghao holds up his coffee in silent response. Mingyu pouts immediately, predictable as ever.

“You went without me?” he whines, huffing a little for effect.

“You should have woken up in time,” Jeonghan counters. “It’s noon.”

Mingyu scowls but recovers quickly, patting the next to him on the rug and gesturing for them to come sit. Jeonghan watches to see Minghao’s reaction — he looks uncomfortable but he moves forward easily enough, perching on the edge of the couch so one of his knees knocks against Mingyu’s shoulder.

Jeonghan makes a split-second decision, watching them, and collapses to sprawl down on the rug by Mingyu’s feet.

“I’m sorry for worrying you guys,” Minghao says dully after a moment. “It really wasn’t a big deal.”

Mingyu makes little sound of disagreement, but Jeonghan raises his voice to cover it.

“It’s okay, Myungho-yah,” he says, elbowing Mingyu’s shin to shut him up. “I’m glad you called.”

“I’m glad, too,” Mingyu says after a moment. “You can call us whenever, okay?”

Jeonghan blinks, a little surprised at being included in Mingyu’s “us,” but the sentiment is true enough, so he nods in agreement anyway.

“Whenever,” he agrees firmly. When he looks up Mingyu’s smiling down at him, an expression Jeonghan doesn’t recognize on his face. Jeonghan blushes, looking away.

Weird.

Minghao kicks them out not long after that, claiming he needs a nap, and Jeonghan walks with Mingyu towards the subway station.

“Hyung,” Mingyu says after a moment, a little cautious. Jeonghan hums for him to continue. “I’m sorry for before,” Mingyu says. Jeonghan tilts his head, curious.

“Sorry for what?”

“When you started hanging out with Myungho,” Mingyu clarifies.

“Ah,” Jeonghan says, nodding in understanding. “Well. You didn’t know.”

“Still,” Mingyu says, a little crease forming between his brows. “I should have trusted you.”

“I don’t know if I would have trusted me either,” Jeonghan says. It’s uncharacteristically vulnerable of him, with Mingyu — he’ll blame it on the weird night they’ve both had, he decides.

“I can tell you really care about him,” Mingyu says, then, a little insistent. “I’m glad he has you.”

The sentiment is too sincere — Jeonghan doesn’t really know what to do with it. Doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond.

“I’m glad he has you, too,” is what he settles on, finally.

Mingyu’s smile is small but earnest. He reaches out to clap Jeonghan on the shoulder, squeezing a little before he lets go — they’re at the subway station, Jeonghan realizes.

“I’ll see you,” Mingyu says as Jeonghan climbs the steps to go inside, giving Jeonghan one last wave as before he keeps on walking.

Jeonghan tries not to think about it too hard on the trip home, which isn’t too difficult — he’s so exhausted that he almost falls asleep standing up, barely gets off the train at his stop.

“Everything good?” Junhui asks from the living room, when Jeonghan finally makes it into the apartment. Jeonghan hesitates, then comes over to flop down next to him on the couch.

He doesn’t say anything, but Junhui nods in understanding anyway.

“Want to watch?” he asks, gesturing at the TV in front of them. Jeonghan looks over at the screen — it’s a Chinese drama, no subs. Something historical.

“Sure,” Jeonghan says, curling up a little to try and get comfortable. “You’ll have to fill me in, though,” he says around a yawn. “My Mandarin’s a little rusty.”

Junhui laughs — they both know Jeonghan’s Mandarin is limited to “thank you” and “I love you,” both pronounced extremely poorly.

“Alright,” he says easily.

Junhui’s pretty good at the voices, actually, and Jeonghan lets the sound of his narration lull him in into a doze. When he wakes up his cheek is pillowed on Junhui’s knee, a music show playing softly on the TV.

“Sorry,” he mutters. Junhui looks down from his phone — it’s a weird angle for him, to be honest. He looks kind of like an alien.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, shrugging. “You looked tired.”

Jeonghan pushes himself to sit upright, wincing at the stretch.

“How’s Minghao?” Junhui asks, still looking at his phone, and Jeonghan pauses mid-yawn.

“He’s okay,” he says carefully, watching Junhui for his reaction. Junhui nods, finally looking up.

“You can be honest,” he says, direct as always.

“I am,” Jeonghan says, meaning it. “He’s going to be okay.”

Junhui nods.

“That’s good,” he says. “He doesn’t talk to me about those kind of things,” he adds, voice matter-of-fact. “I’m glad he has you.”

First Mingyu, now Junhui. It’s kind of an alarming sentiment, honestly — Jeonghan doesn’t really feel like Minghao’s wellbeing is something he should be trusted with, but now that he’s got it there’s nothing to do but treat it as carefully as he can.

He’s surprised when Mingyu messages him the next weekend wanting to hang out, but maybe he shouldn’t be — Mingyu’s more persistent than Jeonghan, takes things like apologies more seriously.

Takes friendships more seriously too, maybe, but Jeonghan’s trying to be better about that.

Whatever.

He puts on real jeans to meet Mingyu and everything, hoping Mingyu can see the olive branch for what it is, and he’s rewarded by Mingyu’s eyes raking up and down his body when they meet. A pleased shiver runs through him in response, and he gestures for Mingyu to lead the way.

“This is nice,” Mingyu says, later, both of them ducked under one of the tents that line the street close to his place, handing Jeonghan the fish cake he bought for him. Jeonghan takes it with a pleased hum, standing close to Mingyu to try to borrow his warmth.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” he asks, chewing, when Mingyu doesn’t make any moves to start on his own food.

“Oh,” Mingyu says, startled, blinking a few times like he’s coming back to himself. “Right.”

Jeonghan smiles, watching him take an absentminded bite. It takes him two tries to reach his mouth.

Stupid.

He ends up at Minghao’s a few weeks after that, both of them crashed on the couch after watching two of Minghao’s arthouse movies in a row. Jeonghan slept through most of them, but woke up just in time for the last sex scene. It was … enlightening, Jeonghan supposes, if a little impractical.

“I can’t sit in here all night, too. Do you want to go play badminton?” he asks once Minghao’s switched the TV off, stretching as he pushes himself to sit up. Minghao’s entire face scrunches up in distaste.

“Absolutely not,” he says immediately. “Call Mingyu.”

Jeonghan hesitates, but — why not? He and Mingyu are friends, right?

“He’s probably busy,” Jeonghan says, digging in the couch cushions for his phone. Minghao silently points to where it’s lying on the floor and Jeonghan winks at him in thanks, leaning down to snatch it up.

Yoon Jeonghan
minggoo-yah……….
what are you doing
let’s play badminton
9:33 PM

Kim Mingyu
kk out of nowhere……..
where does hyung want to meet~
9:35 PM

“Oh,” Jeonghan says, staring at the phone in surprise. He looks up to find Minghao making a weird expression. “What’s that look for?” Jeonghan asks, suspicious. Minghao just smiles, weirdly knowing, and waves a dismissive hand.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go on.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? You can be my cheerleader,” Jeonghan offers, reaching for his sweatshirt to pull it over his head.

“Your cheerleader? Who says I wouldn’t be Mingyu’s, instead?”

Jeonghan pauses, affronted.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he says, finally, nose tilted in the air. “I want to preserve our loving friendship.”

“Sure, sure,” Minghao laughs, waving at Jeonghan as he makes his way to the door.

When Mingyu meets him at the park he’s wearing sweatpants but his hair is styled, one perfect lock falling onto his forehead in a way that has to be intentional. Jeonghan squints, pulling him under one of the lamps to get a closer look at him.

“Are you wearing makeup?” he asks. Mingyu whines, giving Jeonghan a playful little shove.

“I was out with friends!” he laughs defensively, and Jeonghan pauses. Huh.

“Did you ditch them to come see me?”

“We were basically done,” Mingyu shrugs.

Jeonghan feels something weird and satisfied bloom in his chest at the response, warm and secure. He smiles, throwing Mingyu his racquet. Mingyu fumbles it, of course. Jeonghan’s smile grows wider.

Mingyu really isn’t very good at badminton, but when it’s just the two of them it doesn’t matter much — Jeonghan likes playing just to play, too. It’s fun to watch Mingyu get flustered.

The park is empty by the time they pack it up, Mingyu whining that it’s creepy while Jeonghan cackles in delight. But maybe Mingyu had the right idea, because when Jeonghan turns to stand back up, a noise from the bushes startles him, and he stumbles, foot catching on a rock. He sits back down with a sharp gasp.

Mingyu’s hovering over him immediately, eyes wide and concerned.

“It’s fine,” Jeonghan laughs weakly, but Mingyu doesn’t look convinced.

“Can you make it home like that?” he asks, squatting down to lift Jeonghan’s foot, prodding at his ankle. Jeonghan twitches and pulls it back. Mingyu inspects him for a moment, still down in a squat, before he shuffles around so his back is facing Jeonghan instead.

“What are you doing,” Jeonghan says, narrowing his eyes even though Mingyu can’t actually see him.

“Get on,” Mingyu says. When Jeonghan doesn’t make any immediate moves he looks over his shoulder, huffing impatiently. “Hyung. Come on.”

Well. Jeonghan isn’t sure he actually needs it, but he’d be stupid to pass up a chance to get carried home — it’s late and he’s tired, and he’s very delicate, actually. He shuffles forward to attach himself to Mingyu’s back like a limpet, trying not to make an impressed noise when Mingyu lifts him easily, grabbing their racquets on the way up.

“Wow,” Jeonghan says quietly, shifting to grip Mingyu’s hips with his knees, and Mingyu flexes his biceps in response. Ugh. Disgusting. Jeonghan leans his face into Mingyu’s neck just to mess with him, smiling when he feels Mingyu shiver against his skin.

“Remember when we first met? In that marketing class?”

The words come out easily as they make their way down the sidewalk towards Jeonghan’s apartment. Mingyu snorts, adjusting his grip on Jeonghan’s thighs.

“You hated me so much,” Jeonghan continues.

“You were always slapping my ass and laughing at everything I said!” Mingyu laughs. “I thought you were just making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you? You were hot,” Jeonghan says, glad Mingyu can’t see his face as he says it.

“You make fun of everyone,” Mingyu points out, which. Okay. That’s fair. “And I didn’t know you thought I was hot. I thought you were like, doing some weird straight guy thing. I don’t know.”

Jeonghan narrowly avoids choking on his own spit.

“You thought I was straight?”

“I mean,” Mingyu says slowly. “Yeah?”

Jeonghan pauses for a moment to take that in.

“No one thought I was straight in university,” he says, almost to himself. He wonders about it, sometimes — would he have started messing around with guys if it hadn’t been what everyone expected from him? Jeonghan guesses it doesn’t matter, really. He ended up here either way.

Mingyu makes a skeptical little noise.

“What, because you were pretty? Only straight guys think being pretty means a guy is gay.”

Jeonghan frowns, letting that sink in. It kind of explains a lot, actually.

“Oh,” he says. “Well. I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Mingyu says dryly. Jeonghan digs his uninjured heel into Mingyu’s shin as retaliation, cackling when Mingyu yelps immediately. “You’re the worst,” he whines, but his hold on Jeonghan’s legs stays firm.

He doesn’t complain the whole way back, not even when he has to contort himself to let Jeonghan key in the building code to let them in. It’s got to be a record for him — Mingyu whines about everything. Jeonghan lets himself feel a little bit warm about it.

The apartment is dark and quiet as they make their awkward way inside, Jeonghan kicking the door closed behind them with a little too much force.

“Moon Jun?” he calls, just to be sure, but the apartment only gapes silently in response.

Mingyu bypasses the living room at Jeonghan’s instruction, deposits him carefully on the edge of his bed before dropping down next to him with a little oof. Jeonghan stays still as Mingyu eases his shoes off, hands careful with a gentleness at odds with his size.

“So what’s your diagnosis, doctor?” Jeonghan asks, just the slightest bit coy, as Mingyu inspects his ankle, prodding it for swelling. He grins, pleased, at the way the corner of Mingyu’s mouth twitches up.

“I think you’ll live,” Mingyu says, a real smile breaking through. He’s still holding Jeonghan’s foot, his grip warm and solid, one thumb rubbing absently at Jeonghan’s ankle like he’s forgotten it’s there. Jeonghan doesn’t want to move, in case it reminds him.

“Well, thank god for that,” he says with a smile.

Mingyu snorts and looks away, but even in the low light Jeonghan can see the flush at the back of his neck.

“Your new place looks better,” Mingyu says, a transparent attempt at a diversion. Jeonghan humours him.

“Thanks,” he says pleasantly. “Myungho helped us.”

Mingyu’s smile turns startlingly genuine.

“That’s nice,” he says, looking like he really means it. “He did a good job.”

Jeonghan thinks about teasing him more, whining a little to put Mingyu on the spot — What about me? Didn’t I do a good job, too?

But that isn’t what he wants. He twitches his foot instead, just the barest movement. Mingyu startles and looks down, letting Jeonghan go as soon as he realizes he’s still holding him. Jeonghan smiles, and uses his new freedom to scoot closer.

“What are you doing?” Mingyu asks Jeonghan’s mouth, eyes focused so intently that Jeonghan might make fun of him for it, if he didn’t feel the exact same urgency, thrumming in his veins and making it hard to keep his thoughts straight.

“What does it look like,” he breathes. His eyes flutter shut as he closes the distance between them.

Mingyu’s mouth slides open against Jeonghan’s right away, muscle memory clearly taking over as his hands come to grip Jeonghan’s waist — firm, the way he knows he likes. Mingyu knows all the things he likes.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Mingyu says between kisses, pulling back just far enough to get the words out. Jeonghan frowns, but Mingyu continues before he has a chance to protest. “Your ankle….”

“My ankle is fine,” Jeonghan says, meaning it. He doesn’t even really feel it anymore, hasn’t since before they got back to the apartment. Maybe he was playing it up at little for the attention — what of it? He’s pretty sure Mingyu doesn’t mind. “I’ll just elevate it, if I have to.”

He pulls back enough that Mingyu can see his eyebrows raise as he says it, read the innuendo. Mingyu snorts, clearly unimpressed.

“You’re not flexible enough for that,” he says immediately. Jeonghan frowns, a little offended.

“I could be,” he protests. It’s hard to keep a serious expression in the face of Mingyu’s amused skepticism, though, so Jeonghan gives up fighting his laugh. The smile Mingyu gives him in response feels like a reward.

“Whatever you say,” Mingyu breathes, and Jeonghan leans in again.

Mingyu really does know all the things he likes.

In the morning Mingyu makes breakfast, humming quietly in the kitchen as Jeonghan slumps on the couch, watching him.

“I don’t usually do things like this,” Jeonghan says as Mingyu whisks the eggs, eyes on the sure movement of his hands.

Mingyu pauses, eyeing him skeptically.

“Things like what?”

Jeonghan shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Whatever this is.”

“That’s not an answer,” Mingyu laughs, setting the bowl down and turning towards Jeonghan, hip resting against the counter.

Jeonghan doesn’t know how to explain it any further. He started the conversation but he doesn’t know how to finish it — it’s an uncomfortable feeling, one he’s not really used to.

“Things like what?” Mingyu asks again, a little more seriously this time. “Like caring about people? Things like trying?”

“That’s not what I said,” Jeonghan says immediately, already stiffening in offence. “Don’t be difficult on purpose.”

“I’m not,” Mingyu laughs incredulously. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” Jeonghan says.

“What did you mean, then?” Mingyu presses, leaving the kitchen and coming into the living room instead. He perches on the edge of the coffee table — Jeonghan winces, hoping it can take the weight — and leans in. “Tell me.”

It’s hard to look at him from this close; his expression is so earnest. Jeonghan tries to turn away but Mingyu catches him, tilts his chin back with two fingers. “Hyung. What did you mean?”

“I don’t give enough,” Jeonghan says, finally. “I’m too selfish, I need too much. I get jealous.”

It sounds ridiculous out loud — childish, and small. Jeonghan doesn’t even know if he really means it.

“Getting jealous doesn’t have to be a bad thing, hyung,” Mingyu says, just as Jeonghan’s considering breaking Mingyu’s hold, pushing him away. Mingyu would let him go, Jeonghan knows. He’s strong, but he doesn’t use it like that. He wouldn’t hold Jeonghan somewhere he didn’t want to be. “I like it.”

“Yah,” Jeonghan sighs, exhausted. “Don’t be weird.”

“No, I mean it!” Mingyu laughs. “It’s flattering.”

Jeonghan makes a face. Typical.

“Your ego is unbearable, did you know that?”

Mingyu doesn’t even bat an eyelash. He just grins, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.

“And the rest of it?” Jeonghan says before he can stop himself, desperate for Mingyu’s verdict and afraid of it in equal measure. Jeonghan hasn’t felt opened up for judgment like this in a long, long time.

Mingyu shrugs.

“You give plenty,” he says, and then he winks. Jeonghan scoffs, disgusted, but he feels lighter too. Grateful, that Mingyu gave them the easy out.

He lets his heart rate even out, taking deep breaths as Mingyu watches.

“I want to ask you something,” Mingyu says, after another moment, still looking at him carefully. “You can say no. If that’s the answer, just say no, okay?”

“Okay,” Jeonghan says warily, not liking where this is headed.

“If I said I wanted to try it for real, are you capable of that?” Mingyu asks bluntly. Jeonghan stares, taken aback.

“Yah,” he says, laughing nervously. “What kind of question is that?”

“You said you’d answer,” Mingyu says, ignoring Jeonghan’s attempt to stall. “Hyung. Are you?”

Jeonghan opens his mouth to retort, then closes it again. Is he?

“I don’t … know,” he says, hesitantly.

“Will you think about it, at least?” Mingyu asks. Jeonghan pauses for a moment, considering, and then nods.

“I will,” he says.

“Okay,” Mingyu says, nodding as he stands up. “Thank you.”

It’s a stupid thing to thank Jeonghan for, he thinks, watching as Mingyu goes back to the kitchen to turn on the stove. It’s stupid of Mingyu to still want to stay.

Jeonghan doesn’t want him to leave.

“Let’s play a game!” Seungkwan says, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. He’s working hard to make it seem spontaneous, but Jeonghan knows him — it’s his birthday party, there’s no way he didn’t plan this weeks in advance.

Everyone murmurs agreeably, letting themselves be urged into a circle, the coffee table pushed out of the way so they can all fit, looking curiously at Seungkwan for more instructions.

Jeonghan finds himself sitting between Minghao and Mingyu and is surprised to find he doesn’t mind, looking up at Mingyu with a little smile. Mingyu smiles back right away, warm and bright. His enthusiasm is a lot to face straight on like that, so Jeonghan goes back to looking at Seungkwan as he waits instead.

The game, as it turns out, isn’t so much a game as an excuse to get sentimental — Jeonghan would have thought Seungkwan got this out of his system when he threw Chan and Soonyoung’s going-away party, but apparently not. Jeonghan guesses a birthday is as good an excuse for it as any.

He watches with trepidation as Seungkwan’s friends pass the plastic candle around, everyone saying something nice about the person to their left. This isn’t exactly his idea of a fun party game, but everyone goes along with it easily enough. No one says anything particularly deep, but Jeonghan still feels anxious, suddenly regretting his seating choice. Is it too late to move? He could squish himself in between the two girls from Seungkwan’s class — he doesn’t know them at all, they’d just say something bland and get it over with.

But — no. Mingyu would see it for what it was, probably. He’d be hurt, definitely.

So Jeonghan doesn’t move, just braces himself when Minghao gets the candle, already wincing in anticipation.

Minghao’s eyes dart over to him, looking amused, before he starts to speak.

“Jeonghan-hyung is very kind. He’s someone who’s taken good care of me, and someone I’m very grateful to,” he says, voice serious but not overly emotional. He turns to face Jeonghan fully, smiling at the uncomfortable expression Jeonghan knows he can’t fully cover up. “I won’t embarrass you any more,” he says with a little laugh, and then he fumbles the candle into Jeonghan’s hand.

Jeonghan takes it without thinking, then freezes as he realizes what it means.

He’d been so busy thinking about how to deflect whatever Minghao said about him — absolutely nothing incriminating, as it turned out — that he hadn’t even thought to consider what he’s supposed to say about Mingyu.

It’s worse, because everyone is looking at him with varying degrees of expectation — Seungkwan clearly amused, Minghao a little concerned.

Hansol doesn’t look like he cares at all, at least, which is a relief.

Just say something, Jeonghan tells himself. Literally anything would be fine. He could say that Mingyu’s tall, that he’s handsome, that his jokes are funny — okay, no. Maybe not that last one. But Mingyu’s smile is fading the longer it takes Jeonghan to come up with something, and now if he just says something stupid he knows Mingyu will be hurt.

“Mingyu-yah,” Jeonghan starts, already laughing a little in embarrassment. “You already know you’re someone special, right? I’m sorry if I didn’t show you properly before, but I think you’re special, too.”

He shoves the candle into Mingyu’s hands as soon as the words are out of his mouth, cheeks burning. God. Jeonghan can’t remember the last time something made him this flustered — and at Seungkwan’s birthday party, of all places.

Mingyu stares at him for a moment longer, eyes wide, before remembering where he is. Jeonghan doesn’t even hear what he manages to stutter out about the person next to him, too distracted by the sound of his own pulse in his ears. He lets himself zone out, trying not to think about anything, until he’s startled by the feel of something cool against the back of his neck. He twists to see Mingyu holding a bottle of water. Jeonghan moves to take it from him, their hands brushing at the transfer.

The game is over, he realizes — everyone is starting to stand back up.

“You looked like you needed it,” Mingyu says. Jeonghan grimaces in acknowledgment, nodding.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says. Jeonghan pauses mid-drink, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. Sorry about what? “It was awkward earlier,” Mingyu clarifies. Jeonghan swallows, finally, and frowns.

“Not your fault,” he says immediately. Mingyu shrugs.

“Still. You shouldn’t have had to make something up.”

Jeonghan frowns even harder.

“Yah,” he says, nudging Mingyu’s arm. “Who said I made anything up, huh? What am I, a liar?”

Mingyu just raises his eyebrows at him in response, which — yeah, whatever. He’s got him on that one. Jeonghan huffs.

“Okay,” he says, accepting. “But I wasn’t lying then.”

Mingyu blinks, looking startled.

“Oh,” he says, not seeming to know what to do with that information.

“Oh,” Jeonghan echoes, laughing a little. “I meant what I said before, you know,” he adds after a moment. “I’m really thinking about it.”

Mingyu freezes, looking startled, before a smile breaks onto his face.

“Oh,” he says again. “That’s nice.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, looking away, but he can’t hide that he’s smiling too. Mingyu gives his shoulder a squeeze before he drifts away, and Jeonghan hunts down Seokmin to bother him for the rest of the night.

Seungkwan stops Jeonghan before he leaves a few hours later, pulling him forward with bossy hands to give him a brisk hug.

“I didn’t know you were so close with Myungho,” he says when he pulls back. Jeonghan snorts — typical Seungkwan, always looking for gossip. But upon closer inspection he looks weirdly sincere, eyes round and open, cheeks flushed from the champagne he drank earlier.

“I am,” Jeonghan says, forcing himself to be honest. “He’s helped me a lot.”

Seungkwan stares at him, searching.

“I’m glad,” he says, finally, his serious expression cracking open into a smile. Jeonghan laughs, patting him once on the cheek.

“Happy Birthday, Seungkwan-ah,” he says. “Do good things this year, okay?”

Seungkwan nods very seriously — he must really be tipsy, Jeonghan thinks fondly — and lets Jeonghan push him back in Hansol’s direction. Hansol accepts him easily with an arm around his shoulders, nodding to Jeonghan in acknowledgment. Jeonghan watches as Seungkwan reaches up to cup Hansol’s ears with his hands, Hansol letting it happen with a quiet laugh.

When Jeonghan turns back around Mingyu’s appeared from somewhere, waiting.

“Let me walk you home,” Mingyu says, a smile on his face, and who is Jeonghan to say no to that?

A week later, at Seungkwan’s apartment again, as the night winds down —

Jeonghan pats Mingyu’s hand in consolation when Seungkwan teases him for his new haircut, leaves their intertwined hands in Mingyu’s lap afterward.

“I think it looks nice,” he leans forward to murmur, smiling in satisfaction at the way Mingyu swallows, hard.

Ten days later, meeting Minghao for drinks after work —

Jeonghan reaches for Mingyu’s glass instead of his own, drinks out of it while Mingyu watches with an expression torn between insulted and turned on. Jeonghan wipes his mouth when he’s finished and grins.

Three weeks later, at a club for the first time in over a year —

Jeonghan tugs Mingyu’s arm before he can go back to dancing, pulling him closer instead.

“Don’t go,” Jeonghan says, a hint of a whine, tilting his head and blinking up at him as beseechingly as he can manage.

“No?” Mingyu says, his mouth twisting into a smile. Jeonghan shakes his head, still holding his arm tight.

“No,” he says, and then, emboldened, “I don’t want to share you.”

Mingyu blinks, and then —

“Are you jealous?” he laughs, sounding incredulous.

“You said you liked that,” Jeonghan says, as innocently as he can manage.

“You can’t be jealous of things that aren’t yours,” Mingyu says carefully, watching for Jeonghan’s reaction. Jeonghan slides his hand over to Mingyu’s chest.

“Do you want to be?” he says, risking another glance upward.

Mingyu catches his gaze, doesn’t let him look away.

“Do I want to be yours?” Mingyu asks, as if there’s anything else Jeonghan could have meant.

Jeonghan nods, the barest twitch of his head.

“Is that your answer?” Mingyu asks. He looks so thrilled it makes Jeonghan embarrassed, somehow, to be the cause of it. He can feel his cheeks heating up, has to look away to try to keep his calm.

“Yes,” he says, finally, taking a deep breath before he looks again.

Mingyu’s answering smile is blinding.

A month later, Hansol’s birthday this time —

“Did you guys come here together?” Seungkwan accuses loudly, all eyes turning towards Jeonghan and Mingyu as they walk in the door.

Mingyu blushes immediately, trying to hide behind Jeonghan like he’s not the tallest person in the room by at least twelve centimetres.

Jeonghan laughs, just a little bit manic, reaching behind him to pat at Mingyu’s hip.

“Mind your own business!” he calls back. Seungkwan narrows his eyes but keeps his mouth shut, an expression on his face that says Jeonghan hasn’t heard the end of it. Jeonghan only laughs even harder.

“What are you doing next Saturday?” Joshua asks when Jeonghan answers his call from under the covers, too cold and tired to poke his head out before he speaks.

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan says. “Sleeping?”

“Well, I need you to come pick me up from the airport,” Joshua says, and Jeonghan sits up with a start, the comforter falling away.

“What?” he says, initial surprise giving way into suspicion. “Yah, Joshua Hong … Is this payback for the time I told you I’d go to L.A. for your birthday? If it’s a joke it isn’t funny.”

“No,” Joshua laughs. “No, no, I promise it’s real. I’ll forward you the ticket.”

Jeonghan makes a suspicious sound into the phone, not wanting to get his hopes up even as his heart starts to beat a little faster.

“It’s real, I swear!” Joshua insists. “Do you want to call my mom and check?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan says immediately. “What’s her number? I miss her.”

“I’ll give it to you when I hang up,” Joshua says, looking fond and exasperated in equal measure.

Jeonghan wiggles a little, too much excitement and nowhere to put it.

“If you’re really coming I’ll be there,” he promises. “Seungcheol too, as long as he doesn’t have work.”

Seungcheol does have work, as it turns out, but he meets the two of them on Sunday for pretentious brunch at a restaurant Joshua said he wanted to try.

When they’re seated Jeonghan squints at the menu for an extended moment before giving up, flinging it towards Joshua instead.

“Order for me,” he declares. “I don’t know what any of these words mean.”

Next to him, Seungcheol lets out a relieved breath, closing his own menu a lot more quietly.

“Me too?” he asks, blinking big eyes at Joshua until he rolls his eyes and relents.

“You guys know how to read,” he says, laughing a little, “but sure.”

Jeonghan smiles sunnily as Joshua orders for the three of them, only correcting him once — he wants apple juice, not orange, obviously. Maybe if Joshua hadn’t abandoned him for America he’d know better.

“So,” Joshua says, looking at the two of them. “How’s it going?”

Jeonghan lets Seungcheol launch into an extended breakdown of his life — his work, his parents, his relationship with Jinhee. He’s going to propose soon, which Jeonghan already knew, but it’s still a little weird to hear him say it out loud.

Jeonghan nods along, smiling, until Joshua turns his focus to him and he blinks, a little alarmed.

“What?” he asks. Joshua wrinkles his brow in confusion.

“What do you mean, what,” he says slowly. “What have you been doing?”

Jeonghan shrugs, uncomfortable at the sudden attention.

“You know,” he says. “Working.”

Joshua frowns at the short response, clearly hoping for something more.

“That’s it?” he presses. “You’re not seeing anybody?”

“I moved apartments,” Jeonghan says, trying to deflect. “I have a roommate now.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Seungcheol pouts. Next to him, Joshua’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Ah, it wasn’t a big deal,” Jeonghan laughs. “It turns out I wasn’t any good at living alone, that’s all.”

Seungcheol’s eyes are still wide and hurt, so Jeonghan looks away, back to Joshua. Curiosity seems to have overtaken his suspicion, which honestly isn’t much better.

“How’s that going, then?” he asks. Jeonghan shrugs again.

“Good,” he says simply. “He’s nice. I met him through a friend.”

It’s odd, he realizes, that Joshua and Seungcheol don’t know his friends. He calls Joshua fairly often, but they mostly bitch about work — Jeonghan’s never really told him about Mingyu, and he doesn’t even know Minghao exists. Jeonghan hadn’t realized he’d been keeping them so separate, and he feels awkward about it now.

“You remember Kim Mingyu,” he says, hoping his face isn’t doing anything weird. “It’s a friend of his friend’s. Moon Junhwi.”

“Ah,” Joshua says, looking interested. Jeonghan laughs, feeling awkward at the attention.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “You can drop by and meet him, if you want.”

Joshua nods thoughtfully in a way that gives absolutely nothing away. Jeonghan narrows his eyes in suspicion.

“And what about Mingyu, then?” Joshua asks, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Jeonghan takes a sharp breath, nearly choking on his apple juice in the process.

“What about him?” he asks weakly, not liking the way Seungcheol has perked up next to him, eyes wide and interested.

“When were you gonna tell us you were dating him?” Joshua presses. Jeonghan does choke, this time, spluttering helplessly as Seungcheol thumps at his back.

“We’re not — we’re not,” he says weakly. “Who told you that?”

“I have my sources,” Joshua says. That’s just great — Jeonghan’s gonna have to test his entire friend group for leaks, now. Seungcheol just leans even closer, clearly waiting for what comes next.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“He’s gonna come home with me next week,” he admits, staring straight ahead as he says it. “Do not say anything stupid,” he says sharply, turning to Seungcheol.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seungcheol whines immediately, putting his hands up in surrender with a laugh.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jeonghan says. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“I won’t,” Seungcheol promises, but his eyes still look awfully sparkly — Jeonghan doesn’t trust him at all. “We’re just happy for you, that’s all.”

The sincerity is too much for Jeonghan, so he turns to look at Joshua instead, only to find — ugh. Joshua is smiling softly at him, pleased and fond.

“Please stop, both of you,” Jeonghan says, turning back to his abandoned waffles. “You’ll give me acid reflux.”

“You already have that,” Seungcheol says immediately, and Jeonghan mimes stabbing him with his fork.

It helps a little to break up sappiness, but the gross warm feeling doesn’t quite fade.

Mingyu charms Jeonghan’s mother at dinner, of course — Jeonghan never had any doubts about that. The meal goes so smoothly Jeonghan has to fight against the urge to sabotage it for no reason, staying so silent that Mingyu looks over to check on him more than once.

Jeonghan smiles back at him every time, fonder than he is irritated, and somehow that almost makes him feel even more ornery.

“We’re so old now,” Hyesoo says later, once they’ve all relocated to the living room. “Like … Heo Miyoung is getting married next year. You remember her, right? It doesn’t feel like I’m old enough for my friends to be getting married.”

“Well, let me know when they start having babies,” Jeonghan says. “We’re branching out to home and bath care now, you know.”

Hyesoo snorts.

“Yah,” Jeonghan says with a laugh. “Don’t you want your brother to be successful? What kind of supportive sister are you?”

“Sure, sure,” Hyesoo says placatingly. Jeonghan narrows his eyes at her, still suspicious, and the moment of silence that settles between them makes him realize that it’s been a while since he left Mingyu with his parents. He looks up sharply, only to find —

“I can't believe this,” Jeonghan says, observing Mingyu engage in conversation with his father from a safe distance across the room, his mother nowhere to be seen. “Does appa ... like him?”

Hyesoo follows his gaze, watching the two of them talking for a moment before humming in agreement.

“Seems like it," she says, not sounding particularly sympathetic.

"That's impossible," Jeonghan says weakly. "Appa doesn't like anybody."

He watches, horrified, as his father smiles — no, laughs — at something Mingyu says. Jeonghan has been alive for twenty-eight years and he isn't sure his father has ever laughed at a single one of his jokes. And now he has the nerve to laugh at Mingyu? Despicable. Unforgivable. Jeonghan is scratching himself off the family tree, emotionally.

"You good?" Hyesoo asks, expression caught somewhere between amusement and concern.

"No," Jeonghan scowls. Hyesoo doesn't even have the grace to humour him, cackling at whatever she sees on his face.

Mingyu looks over at the sound, like a dog whose name was called. His eyes find Jeonghan’s immediately and he smiles, bright and guileless. Jeonghan smiles back, elbowing Hyesoo in the ribs. It only makes her laugh harder.

Mingyu says what Jeonghan assumes is a polite good-bye to his father, then makes his way over to the two of them.

“Everything okay over here?” he asks, looking amused.

“Delightful,” Hyesoo beams up at Mingyu, dropping a little pat on his arm before moving away, drifting towards their father and leaving Jeonghan and Mingyu alone.

“Hi,” Mingyu says, smiling down at Jeonghan. He looks good — hair perfectly styled, wavy and soft-looking. Big sparkly eyes, sweet voice, polite as hell — he’s every mother’s dream son-in-law. It makes Jeonghan want to bite him.

“Did you have fun with my dad?” Jeonghan says, wincing as soon as he realizes how that sounds. Mingyu snorts.

“Not like that,” he says, and Jeonghan elbows him.

“You know what I meant,” he whines. Mingyu thinks about it, then shrugs. Jeonghan squints at him, confused, and makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat.

“He’s kind of boring, right?” Mingyu says, voice hushed like he saying something forbidden.

For a moment Jeonghan only stares.

“Sorry,” Mingyu laughs sheepishly, clearly misreading Jeonghan’s silence. “I know he’s your dad.”

“No,” Jeonghan croaks. He coughs to clear his throat, smiling. “You’re fine. You’re right.”

“I like being here with you better,” Mingyu says. It’s smooth like a line, but his face is earnest as anything when he says it. Jeonghan wants to make fun of him for it, but it’s the end of the day and he’s tired, and Mingyu’s shoulder is warm and welcoming to lean on.

“I like being with you too,” Jeonghan says, quiet like a secret. It’s obviously not — his entire family can see them. Bringing Mingyu here in the first place was loud on its own. “Don’t tell anyone,” he adds anyway, just to say it.

Mingyu laughs agreeably, like he already knows — and maybe he does, Jeonghan thinks, as Mingyu’s arm comes up to rest on his shoulders, pulling him a little closer.

“Jeonghan-ah,” his mother calls, and Jeonghan looks up, startled. “Do you need a ride home?”

“It’s okay, eomonim,” Mingyu says, squeezing Jeonghan’s shoulders a little. “I’ll take him.”

Jeonghan’s mother smiles warmly, so much fondness in her expression even though she and Mingyu only just met.

“What a charming young man,” she says, and Jeonghan can literally feel Mingyu start to preen. He snorts a little, but doesn’t raise his head. “Hold onto him!” his mother says, pointing a finger at him directly.

“Got it,” Jeonghan says sleepily, shifting a little against Mingyu’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Mingyu says with a little laugh, jostling Jeonghan until he moves his head to stand up straight. “Let’s get you home.”

Jeonghan smiles, letting Mingyu guide him to say goodbye to his father, shrugging into his coat easily and walking out into the cold night.

“Your dad really is nice,” Mingyu says on the way to the train station. “I didn’t mean he wasn’t.”

“Ah, Mingyu-yah,” Jeonghan laughs. “Do you really feel bad about that?”

Mingyu pouts a little, but he eases up when Jeonghan grabs his arm, pulling him so they’re snuggled close as they walk.

“Your whole family is nice,” he says, after a moment. “Thank you for taking me to meet them.”

“So formal,” Jeonghan says, but he can’t deny how pleased the words make him feel. “Thank you for making a good impression,” he adds, to make sure Mingyu knows he’s grateful.

“Of course,” Mingyu chirps, reaching over to squeeze Jeonghan’s hand with his free one before he lets it drop again.

They pause to wait for the streetlight to change, the night air still around them.

“Ah, it’s cold,” Jeonghan whines quietly, pushing even closer.

“We’ll be home soon,” Mingyu says. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything when Mingyu follows him all the way back to his apartment, even though Mingyu’s own is two stops earlier.

At the building entrance Mingyu stops, pulling back as though to say good-bye. Jeonghan reaches for his arm again, doesn’t let him go.

“Come on,” he says. “Aren’t you going to come up? You said you’d keep me warm.”

Mingyu smiles, and follows him inside.