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Quidditch had been fun. At first, it had only been interesting, but it was interesting enough to warrant Mingyu writing his parents daily weeks before Christmas in first year with variations of please buy me a newer broom squeezed between stories about his friends and lessons. His dad, who used to be on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, gave in pretty quickly, but his mom, a muggle who couldn’t—and still can’t—quite wrap her head around the fact that real witches and wizards actually use brooms for flying, was not so easily convinced. There’s no end to Mingyu’s persistence though, so at last, on one fateful day, he’d received a short note stating: Let me look at your grades first, and then we’ll see.
The next year he’d breezed through the Gryffindor tryouts and neatly slid into the void Kim Minseok, the previous keeper, left behind.
Fast forward to fourth year, their captain Jung Hoseok’s final year at Hogwarts and, simply put, his last chance to defend the Quidditch Cup. And so under his passionate leadership, the Gryffindor Quidditch team might have gotten a little… obsessed.
Mingyu had missed his friends during that year, but winning the Cup and getting levitated in the middle of their victory party all the way to hogsmeade for a smaller, more intimate, but no less loud, celebration almost made it worth the occasional bouts of loneliness.
That day Jeonghan had somehow booked them a private room with a long table but not enough chairs, so a few people had to cozy up to each other. Jeonghan had his own chair by virtue of being ruthless enough to elbow away even Jisoo. Hansol and Minghao, and Seungcheol and Junhui were all balancing on one butt cheek, while Soonyoung had gone above and beyond by tugging Jihoon onto his lap, wrapping both arms around his waist. Surprisingly, Jihoon flushed up to his ears but otherwise didn’t struggle. Even when Soonyoung rubbed circles on Jihoon’s belly and asked to be fed (“My hands are both occupied!”) Jihoon merely dug his elbow lightly into Soonyoung’s ribs, before spearing a piece of beef and holding the fork to Soonyoung’s lips. “Ah,” he said.
Mingyu subconsciously opened his mouth.
Crap.
Jihoon blinked at him, and then laughed. “Minggu, you want to be fed too?”
When Mingyu could do nothing but splutter at him, he laughed so hard Soonyoung had to pluck the fork from his hands before he accidentally stabbed someone. He wheezed, doubled over and started smacking the table, sending small bits of beef off his plate—and for the record, Mingyu had wanted to point out that there was nothing even remotely funny at all, but…
...But Jihoon looked really good when he wasn’t burrowing himself under piles of ancient runes texts in the library, or sitting motionless on the Quidditch stands and gazing at the players with blank eyes that somehow gave the feeling of judgment, or hissing at anyone who even attempted conversation with him before breakfast.
In that moment, staring at a relaxed Jihoon who had finally tired himself and sagged boneless against Soonyoung, caught dumb at the smile that lingered on Jihoon’s lips in spite of Soonyoung prodding at him for another bite, Mingyu had started falling.
That was last year. What Mingyu should do now is worry about OWLs, but instead he’s moaning about how Jihoon had blown him off yet again when he’d asked to study with him after dinner.
(“Wonwoo might be able to help you more,” Jihoon had said quietly as they stood outside the Great Hall. “You’re having trouble with Transfiguration theory, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“He holds tutoring sessions on Saturday mornings, but you’ll have to tell him you’re joining now or you might not make the headcount.”
But Mingyu had known all that already. The idea of admitting to simply wanting to spend time with Jihoon crossed his mind.
Jihoon ducked his head, clearing his throat. “I have to get to class now. Should I tell Wonwoo you’ll be in his Saturday session?”
“I… I have to think about it first, hyung,” Mingyu had said.)
In retrospect, he should have stood his ground. Maybe insisted on walking Jihoon to class. At least then he could’ve gotten the golden opportunity of knowing more about Jihoon. And making himself known. To Jihoon.
“This is painful to watch,” Jun says, having watched Mingyu agonize throughout lunch.
“I just don’t understand why I can’t get through to him! Am I not being obvious enough?”
“No, you’re plenty obvious. Isn’t that right, Wonwoo?” Junhui nudges Wonwoo from his quiet reading.
Wonwoo doesn't even look up from his book. “Sorry? Oh, is this about Mingyu’s little crush on Jihoon again?” he deadpans.
Junhui wiggles his eyebrows at Mingyu who lets out a plaintive whine.
“Then how come he hasn’t noticed at all?! Unless… unless he has, and he just wants to let me down easy by not acknowledging me? Maybe he’s straight?” Mingyu is too absorbed in his theorizing to notice the twin snorts from Junhui and Wonwoo. “Or maybe it’s not a sexuality thing at all? Maybe… maybe his family wants him to be with another pureblood?”
Wonwoo quickly nips this line of thinking in the bud. “Nah, that makes no sense. Soonyoung is a halfblood and Jihoonie’s parents adore him,” he reasons.
“I guess… but he’s Jihoon-hyung’s best friend. What if they have different standards for like, a romantic interest?”
The two stare at him in flabbergasted silence.
Mingyu squirms. “What? What is it?” When his friends only exchange disbelieving looks, he starts to feel like he’s missing something important. “Okay, seriously guys, what is it?”
“Mingyu…” Junhui reaches out to clasp his shoulder as if to steady him. “Could it be that you don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
With a distressed glance at Wonwoo, Junhui responds gently, “Soonyoung and Jihoon… used to date.”
“YOU DATED JIHOON-HYUNG?!” Mingyu exclaims, slamming his hands on one of the common room tables where Soonyoung is building a very shaky house of cards. Needless to say, it collapses.
“Hey!” Soonyoung shouts indignantly. “What the heck, Mingyu?!”
“Don’t 'what the heck’ me, Kwon Soonyoung! 'What the heck’ you!”
Hansol bounds over. “What’s going on?”
“Jihoon-hyung. And Soonyoung-hyung. Dated?!”
“For most of last year, yeah,” Hansol confirms flippantly.
“You knew?!”
“Of course I did! More like, why didn’t you? It’s not like they were hiding it.”
Soonyoung can only agree, remembering the days Jihoon accepted PDA with the most adorable shy blushes. “Good times… but what about it?”
Inhuman screeches come from where Mingyu is slumped over the table, face hidden in his arms.
“I still don’t understand how you don’t know about it,” says Hansol. “For reals, the two of them were sickeningly sweet, I can’t even count the number of times they almost made me puke.”
“You say that now,” Soonyoung says, leaning back with smugness radiating off him in waves. “but I heard from a little birdie that you’ve been hanging around a certain Slytherin fourth year I will hide under the name Boo. ”
“I-it’s not like that!” Hansol flusters.
After ten minutes of teasing throughout which the idea of walking away doesn’t seem to have occurred to Hansol (to Mingyu and Soonyoung’s amusement), the three settle down.
Soonyoung heaves a tired sigh as he sinks into his chair. “Come to think of it, Mingyu, weren’t you really intense about Quidditch last year?”
“Oh yeah, we barely saw you outside breakfast. Jeonghan-hyung kept complaining about one of his kids leaving the nest and spreading his wings.”
“Yeah, and Jihoonie barely makes it to breakfast on a good day, so he was pretty sad about it too.” Soonyoung rubs his chin thoughtfully.
Mingyu’s eyes widen. “Jihoon-hyung was upset?”
Hansol frowns. “I don’t remember that."
A smirk graces Soonyoung’s lips as he taps his temple. “As his bestest friend—” (“Bestest isn’t a word.”) “—I know everything, down to the deepest desires of my Jihoonie’s marshmallow heart.”
“If you’re so great, how come you two broke up?” Hansol asks, crossing his arms.
“Hansol Vernon Chwe!” Mingyu hisses, scandalized.
“What? Like you didn’t want to know, you’re probably the most invested in this!”
“Hansol, for the love of Merlin, please shut your damn face—”
Soonyoung gives a strained laugh before shooting out of his seat. “Well, this looks like my cue to leave. See you kids later!”
“But you didn’t answer—”
Soonyoung cuts Hansol off by patting his head with great energy, says, “Let’s save it for another day, hm? Bye!” and runs for the portrait.
“...Was that suspicious to you too or is it just me?”
Mingyu only stares at the closed portrait door.
He later finds out that Soonyoung had gone to seek out Jihoon and came out of whatever discussion they had looking cheerful as ever. Mingyu doesn’t know how this bodes for him. He doesn’t know anything lately.
Jihoon is a creature of habit, this much Mingyu knows for sure. He wakes up each morning from the collective effort of the Ravenclaw boys in his year and emerges into the common room with barely any semblance of decency, shirt half untucked and the blue and bronze striped tie looped in a loose ribbon around his neck. Outside the dorm entrance, Soonyoung meets him with a grin and they spend a couple minutes helping each other look presentable.
Honestly, the amount of details on Jihoon’s life that Mingyu is aware of would likely make Jihoon run away more than any mention of feelings. Because apparently Jihoon isn’t opposed to relationships at all. He’s so unopposed to it that he even dated his best friend?
Mingyu can’t see the appeal.
Okay, he can admit that Soonyoung is friendly, loyal, and takes care of Jihoon extremely well. He’s also, by virtue of being Jihoon’s closest friend since first year, shamelessly clingy and accepts the “tough love” Jihoon sometimes dishes out, not always with equanimity, but with a surplus of (eventual) understanding. Mingyu supposes he can see how easily their friendship could have transformed into a romantic relationship.
Mingyu’s own interactions with Jihoon from his first three years in Hogwarts consisted mostly of randomly dropping in on private study or research hours and getting chased away (with a glare, with an acerbic “either shut up or go away, Mingyu,” or, if Jihoon is especially short-tempered, with hexes) after talking too much. These moments, fueled by adoration for the short but amazingly talented student, abruptly stopped in fourth year when Mingyu had needed to commit to Quidditch full-time, but then he went and fell in love with Jihoon at the end of the year instead.
Mingyu drops his head in his hands and groans. “What is wrong with me?!” Why does it have to be Jihoon, who keeps everyone but Soonyoung at arm’s length? Is he some kind of masochist?
Lost in his troubled thoughts, Mingyu almost doesn’t register the soft touch to his hair. He freezes, recognizing the light scent of musk and a mix of herbs.
“Minggu, are you feeling unwell?” Jihoon’s tone, in stark contrast to the dismissive way he’s been responding to Mingyu recently, is now gentle and unsure. “Do you need to be brought to the Hospital Wing?”
Mingyu slumps further, and one of his hands combs through his own hair to touch Jihoon’s fingers. Jihoon flinches, but there’s no slap, no move to pull away. He breathes a little easier and slowly straightens up.
Jihoon meets his gaze, the briefest hints of worry in the moue of his lips, in the faint scrunch of his forehead, before looking away. He doesn’t speak further, and Mingyu realizes he’s waiting for an answer.
“I’m alright,” he says, tilting his head closer to Jihoon’s hand that’s still in his hair.
As if just realizing this, Jihoon shrinks back. “That’s good, then,” he replies. “I should go. Will you be okay here?”
“Yes, hyung.”
Jihoon waves at him awkwardly and clutches the stack of books and rolls of parchment to his chest. He leaves without a backward glance.
They form a routine too, Mingyu and Jihoon. Mingyu approaches Jihoon with an offer to study and Jihoon rejects him, citing Wonwoo as being more qualified to help. Jihoon lets himself be pulled away by Soonyoung, who shoots Mingyu a mysterious smile as he slings a proprietorial arm around Jihoon’s neck.
Mingyu watches them leave like he usually does, feeling emptier each time. Jihoon doesn’t look at him, but that’s usual too.
Sometimes Mingyu gets surrounded by the Quidditch team at meal times, and he catches Jihoon stare at him with a resigned air. Sometimes Soonyoung is busy giving pointers to younger members of the duelling club, leaving Jihoon to Wonwoo’s (and Junhui’s, a crimson beacon amidst a sea of navy) strange ideas of mothering; and Mingyu digs his nails into his palm from two tables away, wishing he isn’t guaranteed to be ignored should he get up to join them.
Seungkwan tracks Mingyu down one Saturday on the Quidditch pitch while he’s watching his former teammates practice. “There you are, hyung!” he exclaims as soon as he spots Mingyu, dropping down beside him on the grass. “What are you even doing here? Aren’t you off the team?”
“Even then, I still belong here more than you do,” Mingyu points out.
Seungkwan pouts at him. “Never mind that. I’ll belong here as soon as Hansollie arrives from wherever he got lost. Chan will probably find him before dinner. Maybe.” He starts to look concerned, but ultimately shrugs. “I’m sure I’ll see them sometime before dinner.”
Mingyu shakes his head wryly. “If you say so.” He goes back to watching the seeker make lazy circles in the air. There’s a glint of gold in one of the bleachers at the far end of the pitch that goes ignored. One of the chasers takes the chance to go recklessly charging towards the keeper. He scoffs.
“What are you doing, hyung?” he hears Seungkwan ask.
Mingyu spares him a glance. “The new captain asked for help. I’m taking notes on what they can improve on for the next game against… Slytherin,” he says, eyes narrowed suspiciously at Seungkwan, who crosses his forearms in front of him with a look of affront. Mingyu’s lips quirk up. “Anyway, I figured I may as well help them out as much as I can even if I’m not playing.”
“You really don’t want to play anymore?”
“Not really.” He shrugs.
Seungkwan hums thoughtfully. “Can I ask why? It still seems a bit sudden. And,” he adds, “it might not be so obvious now, but Hansollie was almost in convulsions when he found out you quit. He said, quote, 'we might as well dismantle our goalposts, what even is the point anymore?’ end quote.”
Mingyu feels a little touched, but the decision had already been made months ago. “I just needed time for OWLs is all,” he explains.
“I see.” Seungkwan tries his best not to eye his unopened bookbag too obviously and Mingyu tries his best to pretend he hasn’t noticed.
Just then, Hansol and Chan burst out of the castle and wave at the two of them as they jog down to the pitch. The topic is quickly forgotten in the Quidditch-intensive talk that follows.
Mingyu never thought of it as possible, but Jihoon manages to avoid him even more. During mealtimes, Junhui stays with the Gryffindors, chatting happily at Soonyoung, and Wonwoo sits alone at the Ravenclaw table, unconcerned. Soonyoung no longer smiles at Mingyu, but moves on to giving him equally enigmatic frowns.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team, on the other hand, seems to be closing ranks around Mingyu more and more often. It should feel good that they still include him even after the burden he’d placed on the team by resigning without warning.
It doesn’t.
Suspicion digs deeply into his mind.
It twists something dark in Mingyu’s stomach. He doesn’t like it, of course he doesn’t like it, but the conclusion he comes to makes sense.
Two days later, he waits until most of the duelling club members have left their practice hall before cornering Soonyoung inside.
Soonyoung, who, in a series of rapid movements, has Mingyu slammed against the cobblestone wall, wand stretched in front of him threateningly. He falters when he sees just who he has pinned. “Mingyu?”
“More confused than you,” Mingyu rasps out once his feet touch the ground.
“Sorry!” Soonyoung’s hands hover in front of him uselessly before finding a place on his hips as he pulls on a decidedly annoyed expression. “What were you even thinking?!”
Mingyu coughs into his palm and massages his neck as Soonyoung continues to stoke his own ire.
“... and one more thing!” Soonyoung cries, louder than his earlier nagging, jolting Mingyu out of his daze. When the younger only stares blankly at him, Soonyoung rolls his eyes and continues more softly, “This is about Jihoon, isn’t it? I’m not going to be part of this.”
“Hyung?” That is… supremely unhelpful, considering what Soonyoung just put him through.
“Look, Mingyu,” Soonyoung says in that slow way that doesn’t aid in comprehension so much as aggress the other person. His eyes glint, and Mingyu is once again subjected to a vaguely meaningful but somehow terrifying frown. “I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you want to ask, but don’t you think this is something that Jihoon can more easily answer?”
Soonyoung is right, of course. It’s just that Mingyu very possibly might not want to hear Jihoon’s answer directly from him.
“Mingyu, did you really spend half a year trying to get Jihoonie to notice you only to chicken out now?”
Mingyu scowls. “I’m not chickening out!” he retorts. “Give me a minute to think, hyung! This is a life-changing moment for me.”
Soonyoung clutches his chest, and nods with inappropriate feeling. It’s just the right amount of ridiculous to loosen the tension in Mingyu’s shoulders. When Mingyu turns back to him moments later, renewed determination burning in his gaze, Soonyoung crinkles his eyes at him. “So?”
“Hyung,” Mingyu says, imploring. “I need help tracking Jihoon-hyung down.”
“You got it.” Soonyoung clicks his tongue at him with a wink. “Just, go easy on him, okay?”
“I will, hyung.”
He doesn’t. By the time he finds Jihoon behind the furthest shelves at the back of the library, books spread in a circle around him and etching sentence after cramped sentence into the parchment on his lap, Mingyu has managed to work himself back up to the same bundle of nerves as before. The moment he spots Jihoon’s light hair, all the feelings that had been stockpiling inside him comes bursting out and 'going easy’ becomes the least of his concerns.
He stomps over to Jihoon, ignoring the cloud of dust he racks up. “Were you pushing me away so I’d go back to Quidditch? Did someone on the team put you up to it?” he demands.
Jihoon stiffens, tilting his face up, up, up, until he’s looking Mingyu in the eyes for the first time in two weeks. He face betrays no surprise at being accosted, only guilt. “It’s not that,” Jihoon disclaims weakly. “But… Mingyu, you loved Quidditch. You literally slept on the pitch so many times they gave up on giving you detention.”
Mingyu can’t exactly refute that. But at the same time, he’s filling up with a simmering anger because Jihoon isn’t denying it. “Who was it? Is it the captain? Jonghyun-hyung—no, he wouldn’t ask that of anyone. Is it someone else on the team?”
“Mingyu…”
“Hyung!” he hisses furiously. “Soonyoung-hyung is right!” Mingyu turns a blind eye to the way Jihoon startles at Soonyoung’s name too, because, “I didn’t chase after you for half a year, only to have it sabotaged by… by whatever it is someone said to you. Hyung, can’t you just tell me?”
Jihoon chews on his bottom lip, brows furrowed, for longer than Mingyu is comfortable. “No one told me to stay away,” he says finally, though the statement does nothing to ease Mingyu’s mind.
“Then?” entreats Mingyu.
“I… overheard them talking about you… about how you stopped playing Quidditch to pursue someone, and then all those times you kept appearing around me started making sense,” Jihoon stops and takes a deep breath. “I might have felt a little regretful? Soonyoung said, because he knew that I…” he stares at Mingyu helplessly.
The inexplicable smiles and frowns Soonyoung often directs at Mingyu in relation to Jihoon suddenly seem a little less enigmatic.
“Hyung, I—I’m not reading things wrong, am I?” Mingyu asks. “Jihoon-hyung... do you like me?”
Jihoon turns red and almost crumples up the parchment in his hands. “M-maybe, but… I thought you might have been giving up too much for me.”
“Hyung, I quit Quidditch to concentrate on my OWLs—”
Upon hearing that, Jihoon scowls at him accusingly. “But you’re not concentrating on them! Seungkwan told me—”
“Seungkwan isn’t even in my year, hyung. Or my house?” Mingyu interrupts, a bubble of hope in his chest. “I understand Soonyoung-hyung, because we see each other a lot in the dorm, but hyung. Hyung. Were you checking up on me?”
Jihoon goes wide-eyed, mouth clamping shut.
Mingyu beams at him, a little giddy, a little thrilled, like the time he’d finally gotten his mother’s conditional okay on a Quidditch broom. And more than a little anxious to please. “Hyung,” he says, clasping Jihoon’s smaller hand in his own. “I do love Quidditch, but that was never what I wanted to do as a career. It was a fun sport, and I was good at playing, but I don’t regret leaving the team.”
Jihoon tries to tug his hand free, disbelief clear on his face and a protest at the tip of his tongue, but Mingyu beats him to it.
“No, hyung, I’m telling the truth. I had a great three years playing Quidditch, but,” here, Mingyu pauses, licking his lips and averting his gaze, “do you remember when we had a party after we won the cup last year?”
“Yes,” replies Jihoon hesitantly. “That time in Hogsmeade?”
Mingyu nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. “That’s the one. I was still on a rush at the start of it, but later I looked at you guys and realized how much I missed. Hansol kept making eyes at Seungkwan, Chan got so much taller than you, you and Soonyoung hyung were…”
“Together?”
“Yeah,” says Mingyu lamely. “Together. I didn’t even figure that out back then. Always thought it was because there weren't enough chairs.”
Jihoon snorts. “Minggu.”
“I know. So I just… didn’t want to miss anymore, that’s all. Especially not this.” Mingyu squeezes the older boy’s hand a bit and watches as Jihoon lowers his gaze. He swings their entwined hands. “Is this okay, hyung?”
Jihoon turns his face up at him. “What is?” he asks.
“Me not going back to Quidditch. I’m going to focus more on my studies and do well, this year and the next two years.” Biting his lip, Mingyu pulls up every ounce of courage in his body. “Jihoonie-hyung, will you let me study with you now? Will you stop trying to pass me over to Wonwoo-hyung and just let me spend time with you?”
“...oh.” Jihoon gapes at him, his expression a strange mix of uncertainty and something Mingyu cannot yet identify. Eventually, he nods.
Mingyu lets out a triumphant whoop and hauls Jihoon by the hand into his arms, folding himself around the smaller boy snugly. He buries his face in Jihoon’s hair and just breathes. “And,” Mingyu starts, the soft blond hair tickling his cheeks and nose, “is this okay? I think I’ve probably proven that I’m a lot clingier than Soonyoung-hyung.”
Jihoon lifts up his arms to wrap them around Mingyu’s waist. “Mm,” he hums into Mingyu’s chest. “This is good.”
The next time Mingyu finds himself in the library, the space in front of Jihoon is clear of books and other research materials. Jihoon’s nose is hidden behind a parchment he’d raised ostensibly to study it more clearly and he barely pays Mingyu a glance, but his hand trembles a little when he gestures to the vacant seat.
Mingyu sets down his things with an affectionate grin.
There’s so many things they need to talk about, like their first date outside the school, their plans for Christmas, their plans for after graduation. Jihoon’s awful study habits. Mingyu’s equally awful efforts at decreasing the knowledge gap in transfiguration.
Soonyoung. Jihoon’s lingering attachment and Mingyu’s insecurity.
Looking at Jihoon studiously ignoring him in favor of an extra credit essay, he thinks this is a good place for him to start.
“Hyung.”