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Kim Mingyu has seen a lot of weird things in his life, especially since he became a tattoo artist, but seeing Minghao walk in was something new. Actually, well, no— Minghao coming to the store was actually quite normal since they were best friends, after all. It was how he was with the florist from across the street that made Mingyu stop in the middle of sketching a new design. He stared at how frickin’ Jeon Wonwoo of all people was next to Minghao, looking drunk as hell for the most part and smiling sweetly at him despite the intoxication. It made Mingyu's stomach flutter because Wonwoo has always been extremely easy on the eyes; the tall boy may have developed a bit of a crush on him, despite the minimal interactions.
So why on earth was he in the tattoo parlour?
With the rat, Xu Minghao?
Drunker than he looks capable of being?
“Hey, Gyu,” the Chinese boy greeted, seeming lightly buzzed himself, but not enough to send him spiralling onto the floor. Just enough to get him to do something crazy, but it didn’t look like he was up for a drunk tattoo tonight. Not that was allowed despite how he’s done it too many times before. He had Wonwoo balanced loosely next to him, holding the other boy up.
Mingyu continued to stare, “please tell me there’s a reason why you brought him here, drunk beyond his mind. If this is your sorry attempt to get us to hook up, I won’t take advantage of-“
The blonde boy scoffed, rolling his eyes as he did so. He was fully aware of Mingyu's crush on the sweet florist, of course, if the way the other boy won’t stop talking about him was anything. Mingyu also complained on a daily basis about how Minghao could just go in the flower shop naturally and strike up conversation with Wonwoo, while the tattoo artist was stuck with shy and subtle attempts at small talk. It was maddening. So he did what any good wingman would do; bring Wonwoo out with him and friends for a round of drinks without Mingyu around to try and gather some information about whether his friend actually had a chance. What he got was more than he bargained for.
“Listen, let Wonwoo explain himself.”
“Explain himself?” Mingyu asked incredulously. “Can he even talk properly at this point?”
“I c-can!” Wonwoo finally stuttered out, staring at Mingyu with a bright flush on his face. He grinned, “hi, Mingyu.”
That was way too cute. Mingyu wanted to die. He doesn’t think he’s ever even seen Wonwoo with such a bright expression. Honestly, the florist usually wore a soft smile, gentle touches for his flowers and plants, nothing like with the hyper-active aura around him now— the change was actually pretty good to see.
“Hey,” Mingyu managed to get himself to say, feeling a bit more confident this time in front of the drunk boy.
“I want a tattoo!”
“Wonwoo, you’re drunk. Shop rules don’t allow drunk tattoos, at least not on good people like you.”
The smirk on Minghao's face turned into a fake look of hurt, “hey!”
Rolling his eyes, Mingyu continued when it looked like Wonwoo was still somewhat in a state of understanding. Gesturing towards his friend, he spoke again, “and I apologize for however Minghao's behaviour was tonight. I didn’t think he’d bring you here. I hope you forget all of this in the morning. If you don’t, feel free to send him to jail for kidnapping.”
“No, no,” Wonwoo slurred, trying to release himself from Minghao's grasp. The latter did so only when the boy looked like he could stand on his own, which took a while to judge. “He d-didn’t bring me here without my knowledge. I wanted to come here.”
Eyes widening in surprise, Mingyu turned his attention to Minghao to silently ask if Wonwoo was being serious.
The devilish grin on the other boy’s face didn’t help at all.
“Okay,” Mingyu began to say slowly when Wonwoo somehow made his way to the nearest chair, sitting down and looking up at the taller boy. “What tattoo do you want?”
Wonwoo hiccupped in response.
“Uhm, Wonwoo?”
“Your name across my forehead.”
At that, two things happened. First, Mingyu’s jaw dropped, along with the pencil he still had in hand from when the two disrupted his sketching. His eyes blinked rapidly in disbelief. Second, there was Minghao’s loud, obnoxious laughter filling the parlour as he watched the scene unfold. He was even laughing to the point of tears, wiping at the side of his eyes. He had probably heard this earlier on, too, and knew just how Mingyu would react. Wonwoo remained calm and happy, blissfully ignorant of what was happening.
Mingyu snapped back to his senses, “w-wha— I mean— Wonwoo?”
“No, your name, not mine. Mingyu. Kim Mingyu.”
“Yeah, Mingyu,” Minghao said between fits of giggles. “He said your name, not his.”
This was not happening. This was definitely not happening. He was set on believing it had to be a dream, but Wonwoo’s hand suddenly tugging at his arm felt much too real. Also, Minghao was annoying. They were best friends and he had just managed to help expose Wonwoo, but he was still annoying. Mingyu didn’t need this kind of help, not when his crush was asking for a drunk tattoo of his name on the forehead, of all places.
Clearing his thoughts and trying hard not to be swayed by Wonwoo’s incessant tugging, Mingyu spoke again.
“Look, you’re drunk and you’ll regret this tomorrow. Shop policies. If you still want my name on your forehead, come back tomorrow morning and then we’ll talk.”
Wonwoo sighed, “o-okay. I’ll come back. I will. You’re cute and I like seeing you from across the street.”
He got up and began to stagger his way to the door, only to end up stopping next to Minghao to lean on him for support. It took him a few more minutes to ensure both the Chinese boy and Mingyu that he was fine, perfectly fine, he can walk back to his flower shop alone— but of course, none of the boys were having that. In the end, Minghao walked him over to allow Mingyu some time to fully process what had happened.
The next day, Wonwoo did not return.
He did send a bouquet of flowers with a small apology note, though, asking the younger boy to never bring up that night again. Along with his phone number and a question along the lines of asking Mingyu out for lunch, which was readily agreed upon by the latter. Needless to say, things progressed pretty smoothly from that day forward— Minghao took all the credit, of course.