Archive of Our Own ^beta

All Seokmin knew about his poetry class was that he wasn't supposed to be there. 

Well technically, he was. He'd registered for the class and everything. He had a literature credit that he needed to fill, but had put off signing up for the new semester for so long that the only basic literature classes left were ones taught by professors that were rumored around campus to be terrible. Instead of jeopardizing his grade on something that was guaranteed to be an awful experience, his roommate Soonyoung had convinced him to instead take a class that was a little less traditional, but would still satisfy the credit that he needed. 

So Seokmin was here instead. He just hoped that Minghao would keep the promise he'd made about helping him analyze the poems, because despite Minghao's assurances that there was no "wrong" way to interpret literature, Seokmin was sure that he'd find some way to not do it right.

It didn't help that he was showing up late. But he'd never had a class in this area of the campus before, and he'd done an extra shift at work yesterday so Mingyu could go on a date instead of taking the time to familiarize himself with where his classes would be. He'd been doing pretty well all morning, but skidding into a classroom a few minutes after he was supposed to be there—for a subject that he had zero confidence in, no less—left Seokmin feeling horribly awkward as he stood in the front of the room, breathing heavily, the entire class staring at him. Thankfully it was a smaller class, so it was about twenty-five pairs of eyes instead of the two hundred that had been in his sociology class, but still. Even the professor had stopped talking just to look at him, and the room was silent. 

"There's an empty seat here," came a deep voice, Seokmin turning towards it gratefully.

Then he took a complete step back. The student that was offering up a chair was, without exaggeration, the hottest guy Seokmin had ever seen. He had black hair and round glasses, his broad shoulders doing an excellent job at filling out the long-sleeved henley shirt he was wearing. Then Seokmin realized he was staring—with the whole rest of the class watching him, no less—a "thanks" rushing from his mouth as he hurried over to sit down. 

The guy was painfully hotter up close. He had a straight, perfect nose with gorgeous cheekbones and a gorgeous jawline, a serious set to his face and a sharpness to his eyes that sent a shiver up Seokmin’s spine. The classmate glanced over at him—he really needed to stop staring, or at least stop being obvious about it—and at a loss for anything else to do, Seokmin gave him a smile. 

“Thank you,” he said again. The guy didn’t respond, blinking before returning his attention to the front of the room, but he brought one arm up and put his chin in his hand. The flex of his bicep had Seokmin’s mouth going dry. 

Then, as Seokmin did with every single other person he encountered that he thought was hot, he clammed up and did not say a single word to him for weeks. 

That wasn’t entirely true. Seokmin learned, through a couple of very short back and forth exchanges, that his new seat mate’s name was Jeon Wonwoo, and that Wonwoo was a year older than him. Wonwoo was taking poetry because he enjoyed it, instead of out of necessity. Wonwoo liked cats. Wonwoo would, on occasion, turn to him and ask him questions, his voice low and quiet to avoid being overheard. Thankfully, the questions were usually about something the teacher had just said that Wonwoo had somehow missed, so Seokmin was able to answer correctly, instead of coming off as flustered and clueless as he actually felt about Wonwoo and poetry. 

Today, it was a simple question about the publication date of a famous poetry book. The date was written up on the board, Seokmin pointing to it as he answered. 

“Thanks,” Wonwoo told him, a small smile on his face, and Seokmin felt his cheeks flush pink. 

Poetry was Seokmin’s last class of the day, able to lament to Soonyoung about the new Wonwoo interaction over text during his commute to work, where he was a flower arranger at a cute little shop just outside campus, only a short bus ride away. He walked into Rainbow Bouquets to see Mingyu and Minghao already there, Minghao de-thorning a new batch of roses while Mingyu carried a comically huge bouquet over to the display window, his entire upper body hidden in foliage. 

“Hi!” Seokmin greeted. Minghao waved without glancing up, while Mingyu’s head popped out over the leaves and petals, smiling. 

“Seokmin!” Mingyu leapt towards him, his voice heavy with an exaggerated sigh as he gave him a hug. “You’re finally here! Myungho is being so boring today.”

“I’m trying—” Minghao’s voice cut off in a hiss, dropping the flower he was holding, pressing the pad of his now bleeding finger into the napkin next to him, his free hand rummaging through the first aid kit he already had open next to him and pulling out a bandaid. “I’m trying to focus.” 

“Want me to do the rest?” Seokmin offered, stepping up to help Minghao put the bandaid on. Minghao shook his head. 

“I’m almost done.” De-thorning was tedious, but with his nimble fingers, Minghao was the best at it. Thanks to his clumsiness, Mingyu wasn’t allowed to do it at all. “There is something you can do if you want to help, though.” 

“What?” Seokmin asked, putting his backpack down behind the counter and tying an apron on. When he looked back his coworkers were both smiling at him, Seokmin having the sudden, distinct feeling that they’d been talking about him before he’d arrived. 

“You can tell me that you finally, finally talked to Hot Poetry Class Guy.” 

Seokmin felt his cheeks burn, and Mingyu burst out laughing. 

“Actually, I did talk to him,” Seokmin said pointedly in Mingyu’s direction. He relayed the interaction, Minghao raising a skeptical eyebrow when he was finished. 

“He claims to like poetry, but he didn’t know when Azaleas by Kim Sowol was published?” 

“Not everyone knows the dates of things,” Seokmin defended, Mingyu gasping in inspiration a moment later. He was standing in the middle of the shop, his arms heavy with the full plastic watering can he was holding. 

“Maybe he just wanted to talk to you!”

“To me?” Seokmin squeaked back. 

“Yeah!”

“You did say the date was already written on the board,” Minghao pointed out, Mingyu letting the watering can go with one hand to point at Minghao excitedly. 

“But why would he do that?” Seokmin asked. 

“To talk to you,” Minghao answered, like it was obvious. 

“Maybe he’s shy too,” Mingyu said happily. “Isn’t that so dreamy? A shy, sexy, poetic guy who—”

“Stop describing Jihoon and finish watering the displays,” Minghao interrupted, his voice deadpan, Mingyu pouting but doing as he was told. 

The day was pretty slow, but Seokmin didn’t mind. The flower shop wasn't his dream job, but it was still a nice job to have, and it had brought Mingyu and Minghao into his life. They chatted idly while they worked, taking orders and arranging flowers, Mingyu telling them excitedly about how he was leaving early for yet another date.

“Eating ramen at Jihoon’s apartment is not a date!” Minghao exclaimed after him, Seokmin bursting out laughing, Mingyu just grinning, giving Minghao a wink and a cheesy wave as he slipped out the door. Minghao sighed. “People in love make me sick,” he grumbled. 

“Aren’t you in love?” Seokmin asked, Minghao getting the same small smile on his face that he always got when his boyfriend Junhui was mentioned. 

“Ugh, I guess,” he admitted, affection clear despite the way he rolled his eyes, and Seokmin laughed. 

“You guys are all so cute,” Seokmin said, unable not to sigh a bit. “Ah, I want to go on a date.” 

Minghao reached over the counter to tuck a tiny, leftover daisy behind Seokmin’s ear. 

“You could ask out Hot Poetry Class Guy,” he pointed out. The idea immediately had Seokmin averting his eyes from his friend, and when he glanced back up, Minghao was frowning. “What?” 

“I just—I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him.” 

“Well, yes.” Minghao’s voice was patient. “People go on dates to get to know each other, usually.” 

“Yeah, but…”

Minghao put his elbows up on the counter, resting his chin on his palms and tilting his head to the side. 

“What is it, Seokmin?”

Seokmin slumped, his next words muffled. “He’s so hot.”

Minghao burst out laughing. 

“He can’t be hotter than you,” he said, a bit teasing but not unkind, ruffling up Seokmin’s hair with his fingers. “Next time you see him, just talk to him, okay?” 

It was Thursday; Seokmin wouldn’t be seeing Wonwoo again until next Tuesday. He could work up enough courage to engage in small talk by the time Tuesday rolled around. 

“Okay,” he promised, and Minghao gave him a smile, tucking a second daisy in with the first. 

“Let’s get you a hot date,” he said. 

Seokmin didn’t end up getting all the way until Tuesday to think of what to say to Wonwoo, and he was fully blaming Soonyoung for it. 

It wasn’t Soonyoung’s fault that they were in the library. It was a good place to work on assignments, and while Seokmin did have some stuff to do, he was there more for emotional support, keeping Soonyoung company while he finished an essay. It was, however, Soonyoung’s fault that he broke every piece of technology that he touched. 

“It really wasn’t me!” Soonyoung exclaimed, when a library assistant looked at the printer Soonyoung had been using for a few moments before just shaking her head and saying she needed to call someone from IT. Page one had printed fully, but page two was dangling uselessly from the machine, stuck, the ink on it smudged and unreadable. “All I did was hit the print button. You know that printers are evil; they have a mind of their own.” 

Printers were evil, that was true, but the prolonged whirring, grinding, and rather horrible thunk of a sound that the machine had made while trying to print Soonyoung’s essay seemed a little too concerning to be the premeditated sabotage that most other printers engaged in. It was Sunday night, now getting dangerously close to midnight, and they both had classes tomorrow. Soonyoung deflated a bit when he noticed the time.

“Sorry,” he said, walking over with his arms extended and wrapping Seokmin in a hug. “You can go home and sleep if you want.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Seokmin reached up to ruffle the hair on the back of Soonyoung’s head. “It’s not your fault that printers are evil.” 

Grateful that he wasn’t being abandoned, Soonyoung gave him another quick squeeze, then they waited around awkwardly next to their clearly broken printer for the IT person to show up. It didn’t end up taking too long, the library assistant reappearing, a guy walking next to her. He was dressed like he hadn’t really expected to be out in public, the grey sweatpants and black tank top he was in looking comfy enough to be sleeping attire, a black beanie on his head. But the glasses were familiar, the side profile was familiar, and Seokmin realized all at once that it was Wonwoo walking towards them. 

Immediately, he turned and hid his face in Soonyoung’s shoulder. Soonyoung hugged him, concern in his voice as he asked “Seokmin? Are you okay?” 

“That’s Wonwoo,” Seokmin mumbled into his neck. 

“What?”

“The IT guy. Walking up to us.” Soonyoung turned to look, Seokmin’s forehead slipping off of him. “That’s Hot Poetry Class Guy.”

“Oh, wow,” Soonyoung’s voice was quiet, but the words were shameless. It was warranted, though; the tank top wasn’t leaving much to the imagination when it came to the muscles of Wonwoo’s arms and chest. Just looking at him had Seokmin feeling hot all over. “You have to sit next to that twice a week? And you’re passing the class? You must be a genius, Seokmin.”

Seokmin didn’t even have time to thank him, because then Wonwoo was on them. He met Seokmin’s eyes, recognition and surprise passing his features. 

“Hi, Seokmin.” His voice was the same quiet calm it always was, deep and smooth, Seokmin holding in a shiver. The glasses were cute as always, and the beanie was folding his ears down a bit; it was painful, how adorable he looked. 

“Hi,” he responded, smiling at Wonwoo again. That was about all he could do, feeling transfixed and horribly embarrassed about it. Soonyoung's voice cut in loudly as he gestured to the printer.  

“I broke this!”

That had Wonwoo turning his attention away, looking at the printer instead, and Seokmin let out a breath of relief. Soonyoung caught the action and flashed him a less-than-subtle thumbs up.

“Ah no, you didn’t break it.” Wonwoo was manhandling the printer around like it weighed nothing. Seokmin wanted to feel the swell of Wonwoo’s bicep under his teeth. “The person that used it before you got it jammed up and just didn’t tell anyone. This isn’t your fault.”

“That’s a first,” Soonyoung remarked, and Wonwoo laughed at the words, a flash of jealousy going through Seokmin at Soonyoung’s ability to make small talk. 

“Sorry for, you know, looking like this,” Wonwoo said, sweeping over his appearance with one arm, using his other arm to open some side compartment on the printer that Seokmin didn’t even know existed. “I didn’t expect to get called so late.”

He’d glanced up at Seokmin as he spoke, so Seokmin felt obligated to answer.

“Oh, no! You look great!” He flashed another smile. “Really!”

He was being way too enthusiastic, and he could feel it, but he couldn’t really stop. Besides, it was true; Wonwoo looked amazing. 

“This essay is due at eight in the morning tomorrow, so I’m glad you’re here,” Soonyoung said, Wonwoo letting out a low whistle as he glanced at Soonyoung. 

“You have a class at eight a.m.? Are you okay?”

“I’m surviving! Just barely.” At that, Wonwoo laughed again, Soonyoung smiling too. “I’ve learned to appreciate the art of taking a good nap.”

With a snapping noise, something was slotted into place, the printer whirring away again. The second page of Soonyoung’s essay was unstuck, but it was still incomprehensible, Wonwoo frowning at the paper for a moment. “You’ll have to reprint that, but it should work fine now.”

“Oh! Awesome, thanks.” Soonyoung scurried back to his laptop, Wonwoo standing and watching, his arms crossed over his chest. Seokmin realized in a flash that he’d promised Minghao that he’d try to talk to Wonwoo. He had to do something. 

“So uh… you’re good at computers and stuff?” he tried. Wonwoo glanced to him quickly, a small smile on his face. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugged a bit. His shoulders were so broad. “I play video games with my friends a lot.”

“That’s fun!” Seokmin didn’t really know what to say; the only video games he really played were whatever mobile game was trendy at the time, and it usually didn’t hold his attention for more than a couple of months. “I don’t… I don’t play games too often.” 

“I mean, some of my friends are really bad, but they get on a call with us, and it’s still fun anyway.” Wonwoo was smiling. It was really nice, being on the receiving end of a smile from Wonwoo. “What do your friends do for fun?” 

“Ah… study?” It had been a while, Seokmin realized, that he’d really gone out and done something fun with his friends. “We like to eat together, or hang out and talk. Soonyoung and I like to watch dramas when we have the time.”

“And cry!” Soonyoung cut in, and Wonwoo laughed again. Soonyoung’s essay was properly printed out now, Seokmin and Wonwoo watching as he tucked it securely into a folder, and they left the library together. The night air was warmer than Seokmin expected, though maybe that feeling was just from watching Wonwoo lift his arms up into a quick triceps stretch. When they reached a crossroads, they found out that their apartments were in almost completely opposite directions. 

“You’re a lifesaver, really,” Soonyoung told Wonwoo. “And I’m really bad at technology, so this might not be the last you see of us.” 

“Well, here.” Wonwoo still had the ruined page of Soonyoung’s essay in his hand, folding it over itself a number of times and pulling a pen from his pocket. Seokmin watched him write, but didn’t notice that it was a phone number until Wonwoo was passing the paper into his hand. Wonwoo met his eyes. “In case you ever need anything else fixed. Just ask, okay?” 

“Okay,” Seokmin said faintly. He was holding Wonwoo’s phone number. He had Jeon Wonwoo’s phone number. With another smile at him, his eyes still on Seokmin’s face, Wonwoo bid them a goodbye and left. 

“You. Are. Kidding.” Soonyoung’s expression was one of disbelief, turning to Seokmin once Wonwoo was safely out of earshot. “You—he was there to help me, but I might as well have not been there at all. Wow.” 

“What? What do you mean?” Seokmin asked. 

“Seriously?!” Soonyoung laughed. “He only looked at me once, that whole time. He just gave you his number, even though I’m the one that needs the tech help. Oh Seokmin.” Soonyoung slung an arm over Seokmin’s shoulders, and they began walking back to their apartment. “Seokmin, this is hilarious.” 

“You’re just… That’s not…” Seokmin didn’t really know what to say. That felt like an exaggeration, and with Soonyoung’s love for the dramatic, maybe it was. With him holding Wonwoo’s phone number though, it was a bit hard to rebuff. 

“You know, I was useless that whole time,” Soonyoung said. “I’m kind of insulted, actually. I’m a hot guy too! Why didn’t he look at me?” 

“He did look at you!” Seokmin insisted back. Because he had! All of the times that Wonwoo had laughed, it had been from things Soonyoung had said.

“But he smiled at you.” 

“Because he’s nice!” Seokmin tried. Soonyoung wasn’t hearing it, having fun with the melodrama now, lamenting about how he clearly wasn’t hot enough and about how he wanted attention, finally calling Jeonghan. It was late but Jeonghan answered anyway, though he sounded groggy, Seokmin able to hear him with how close Soonyoung was walking. 

“Han, call me pretty,” Soonyoung insisted, his lips bunched into a pout. 

“You’re the prettiest in the world baby,” Jeonghan said, the words as sweet as they were sincere, and Soonyoung chatted with his boyfriend the entire walk home. Seokmin, meanwhile, put Wonwoo’s number in his phone first, then texted Minghao and Mingyu in a bit of a panic about what he was supposed to do. 

From: 2.3 Billion Won Man
TEXT HIM!!! 
TEXT HIM RIGHT NOW! 
TELL HIM THAT YOU’RE INTERESTED! 
YOU WANT A KISS AND YOU WANT IT NOW!

From: Swallowtail Butterfly
…mingyu, those messages were so loud that they almost woke jun up. hush.
and seokmin, maybe text him tomorrow. it’s late.
but definitely text him. c:

Text him. Okay. Seokmin could do that. 

It took until midday on Monday for him to work up the courage. He didn’t let himself overthink it, typing out a quick Hi!! Thanks again for your help last night ^^ and hitting send before he got too worried. Then he realized he hadn’t added his name. Was it possible that Wonwoo had helped someone else? And given that someone else his phone number? Maybe. 

To: Wonwoo ><
Oh! It’s Seokmin btw! In case, you know, there was more than one person that you helped out and gave your number to haha

Thankfully, the response didn’t take long at all. 

From: Wonwoo ><
Just part of the job!
Loved your ratatouille t-shirt by the way :) my friends are kind of obsessed with that movie

Seokmin felt himself flush pink. He hadn’t even remembered what he’d been wearing yesterday, surprised that Wonwoo had much of anything to say about the ratty old t-shirt that had been more of a joke when he and Soonyoung had come across it in a thrift store, mostly white with the cartoon character printed on it. It wasn’t a piece of clothing that he usually wore in public. 

Thankfully though, that was an opening for conversation, and they spent the day messaging back and forth about movies. It was fun, and surprisingly comfortable, Wonwoo even taking it in stride when Soonyoung found one of his opinions enraging enough to steal Seokmin’s phone from his hands and respond personally. It had him optimistic for the next class day, arriving before Wonwoo did and watching him walk in. Their eyes met and Seokmin smiled, waving, then burst out laughing when Wonwoo seemed to trip over his own foot as he attempted to wave back. 

“Don’t tease me,” Wonwoo protested quietly, pushing his glasses up his nose, and Seokmin felt painfully endeared by the light pink flush dusting over his cheekbones. 

“Hi!” Seokmin greeted happily. “Oh, also—Soonyoung wanted me to tell you to your face that you’re wrong about Cars.”

“It’s not a good movie!” Wonwoo exclaimed back, surprisingly impassioned, and it was so funny that Seokmin laughed again. His mirth carried him towards Wonwoo, feeling their shoulders knock together. The teacher called for the class’s attention, Wonwoo shifting in his seat to nudge him back, and an uncontrollable smile broke out across Seokmin’s face at the touch. 

Seokmin had a hard time paying attention throughout the entirety of the lecture. Now that talking to Wonwoo was an option, it was the only thing that he wanted to do. Wonwoo didn’t even ask him any questions like he sometimes would, Seokmin considering doing it instead, but asking Wonwoo something he already knew the answer to just to get Wonwoo to look over at him felt a little too desperate. 

In the last five minutes, the professor dropped a bomb on them: the class was being assigned a project. According to their professor, one of the great joys of literature was the way an identical string of words could be interpreted completely differently by different people, so they were to split into pairs and analyze a poem together. Seokmin glanced Wonwoo’s way immediately, happy when Wonwoo looked back at him. 

“Um.” What he was about to ask felt transparent now, but Seokmin decided to do it anyway. “Want to be my partner?” 

“Of course,” Wonwoo answered, without even taking a beat to think about it, and Seokmin couldn’t help but smile. 

Seokmin didn’t have work after class this time so they walked to the library together, sitting across from each other at one of the tables, Seokmin frowning down at his teacher-given copy of Flowers That Bloom When Shaken by Do Jong-hwan, determined to actually offer some meaningful insight. But he was so focused on trying to focus that it wasn’t really working, glancing up to see Wonwoo already looking at him. 

“Sorry.” Wonwoo’s gaze had him flustering up, and he felt out of his element. “I’m not really that good at analyzing stuff.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Wonwoo countered gently. “Poems are personal; they mean whatever you want them to mean. As long as what you see in them is backed up by the text, it isn’t wrong.” 

“I… I mean, I guess.” Seokmin hadn’t ever thought about it that way before; he’d always seen literature as having one right answer, an answer that he was supposed to find by digging up what the author was trying to say, an answer that was always hiding right under his nose. He didn’t quite feel that he had the confidence to just… Make it up himself. “My friend Minghao has kind of been helping me so far. He likes to read a lot, and he’s good at this sort of thing. You are too, right?” 

“I guess so.” Wonwoo shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal, and he looked so smart in his glasses that Seokmin had to keep himself from biting his lip. “I like it, so that makes it fun.”

“I like it too!” Seokmin said quickly. He tried hard to sound earnest, because it was true. He wasn’t just trying to impress Wonwoo; he was actually enjoying the class too. “More than I thought I would, anyway. I feel like I’m learning a lot. I’m also really glad that—I don’t know, that you’re there, I guess. It’s nice to have a friend in class.”

The word “friend” felt clumsy coming out of his mouth, and tripping over it had Seokmin’s face heating up again. Wonwoo gave a small nod, but Seokmin felt the need to continue. 

“Not that it’s always good.” What was he talking about? “Like, I think that if Soonyoung and I were in a class together, it would be a mess. And then if you start as friends, and then something happens, it could be bad, you know?”

“I… sure?” Wonwoo sounded hesitant, and Seokmin knew for sure that he was blushing. This was why he didn’t talk to hot people; he always, without fail, felt like he was making a rambling fool of himself. He decided to try shutting up.

“Sorry. We’re supposed to be analyzing, not talking.”

“No, it’s okay.” Wonwoo placed his pen down, putting his elbows up on the table. Wonwoo was looking fully at him, not seeming to be annoyed or disinterested at all, leaning in slightly and giving Seokmin his complete attention. He was so gorgeous that something physical ached in Seokmin’s chest, that feeling only growing stronger when a soft smile spread across Wonwoo’s face. “We can talk, if you want.”

“O-okay.” Now they—now they had to talk, and Seokmin didn’t want Wonwoo to think his awkwardness was discomfort, reaching up and rubbing at the back of his neck as he offered up a sheepish grin. “I can—I get nervous sometimes, about talking to certain people, but I really wanted to get to know you! My friends kind of made me promise to try talking to you more. So um, thanks for giving me your phone number, I guess.” 

“I—yeah.” That had seemed to tip Wonwoo off balance, and Seokmin immediately felt like he’d given too much information. Was “certain people” a bad thing to say? Seokmin hadn’t meant it badly. He’d also just implied that he’d talked about Wonwoo to his friends, which—which he had, but Wonwoo didn’t need to know that. Thankfully, after a moment Wonwoo took it in stride. “No, it’s okay. I’m not too great at talking either, honestly. But you were saying something about having a friend in class—is there a story there?” 

“Oh! Kind of.” Friend in class. Right. He’d had Jung Jaehyun in mind when he’d said all of that, someone that Seokmin had sat through lectures with the semester previously. “Last year I met this, you know… There was a guy in one of my classes, and we sat next to each other every day, and at first I thought it was really great.”

Seokmin wasn’t sure that he wanted to do this, to talk about an old flame to Wonwoo. In truth, the relationship hadn’t been much of anything; Jaehyun was just another person that was so handsome that Seokmin had a hard time looking him in the eye. They’d had a sort of flirtationship, even going on a couple of dates. The relationship didn’t mean much to him now, Seokmin very nearly trying to change the subject when he realized in—well, not in a stroke of genius, but maybe something close—that telling this story could kill a couple of birds with one stone; it would tell Wonwoo that he was definitely interested in dating dudes, and that—nudge nudge, wink wink—he was currently single. So he continued. 

“And he was nice! But we broke up. And the break up wasn’t even bad, he was really nice about it, but being in class with him three times a week was probably the most awkward thing in my entire life.”

“Oh. I…” Wonwoo gave a small laugh, as though he wasn’t sure how sympathetic he needed to seem. “Yeah, that must have been awful.”

“It was!” Seokmin laughed again, trying to show that really, he was more than fine now. Fine enough, maybe, to give dating a classmate another try. “Plus, he was way better at the subject than I was, so I had to keep asking him for help.” 

Wonwoo laughed again, just a little, but the sound seemed… off. Then all of a sudden he was on his feet, sending a haphazard glance to his bare wrist, as though checking the time on a watch that wasn’t there. 

“I’m sorry, but I just remembered that I’m helping a friend with something today,” he said. “Could we do this some other time?”

He looked slightly frazzled, Seokmin unable not to frown. Maybe something was wrong. 

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” He didn’t want to press though, saying instead, “what about tomorrow? I could meet you in the afternoon, before I have to go to work.” 

“Okay.” Wonwoo was busy gathering his things, collecting up his papers and putting them into his backpack. 

“Do you want to just come to my apartment?” Seokmin asked. He’d just implied to Wonwoo that he could, potentially, be interested; now he wanted to show that he was interested, forcing his tone into something casual as he continued. “Soonyoung shouldn’t mind, but if he does, there’s enough room on my bed for the both of us.”

All Wonwoo spared him was a quick glance. “Yeah, okay,” he said, then he was out the library doors. 

If their talk at the library had been a bit awkward, then Seokmin was pretty sure that the meetup to work on the assignment in his apartment was was just plain torture. 

He had Jeon Wonwoo in his apartment. He had Jeon Wonwoo in his bedroom. He had Jeon Wonwoo on his bed, something he wouldn’t have been able to fathom a week ago. And Wonwoo wouldn’t even look at him. 

Sure, Seokmin had invited Wonwoo over so they could work on their poetry project together, and in fairness, that was what Wonwoo was doing. He was leaned back against the wall, his black hair shiny and soft-looking, the sleeves of his sweater tugged down to cover his hands, one hand holding the paper with the poem on it, the thumb and forefinger of the other playing with his pink bottom lip. He had a contemplative frown on his face. He looked gorgeous. Seokmin wanted to eat him alive, but Wonwoo was barely acknowledging his existence.

Did Wonwoo really like academics this much? Or had the phone number, the texting, and the smiles all really been platonic? Seokmin knew that Soonyoung could be hyperbolic, and that Mingyu had a tendency to look at the world with rose-colored glasses on, but even Minghao and Jeonghan had told him that it seemed like Wonwoo was interested, and Minghao and Jeonghan weren’t usually wrong. 

“Could you look at what I have so far?” Seokmin asked, just as an excuse to get Wonwoo’s attention. Wonwoo looked over at him and nodded easily, extending a hand to take Seokmin’s paper. Then their fingers brushed and Wonwoo curled quickly back into himself, his posture stiffening up, all but hiding behind Seokmin’s poem analysis. And Seokmin just looked at him, blinking, unable to comprehend what had just happened until slimy unease fell into his stomach. 

Maybe… maybe Wonwoo had definitively not been flirting with him, and the funny story he’d told about an ex- boyfriend hadn’t actually been very positively received. 

Seokmin didn’t want that to be true. He didn’t want it to be true with every inch of his being, but once the thought was there it was something he couldn't shake, especially when thinking back to how Wonwoo had all but dashed off the day previously. It was only reinforced with the touches Wonwoo avoided and the looks he glanced away from. Seokmin knew he had to say something, but it wasn’t until Wonwoo was nearly out the door at the end of their allotted time together that he managed to ask the question, the words bursting out of him, louder and more forceful than he’d meant them to be. 

“Do you have a problem with the fact that I’ve dated a guy?”

Wonwoo froze. Actually, comically froze, his body stilling mid step, his eyes wide as they looked Seokmin’s way. There were three full beats of silence.

“What?” he finally asked back. 

“Sorry,” Seokmin said, which didn’t really fall in line with Soonyoung and Jeonghan’s encouragements for him to be more assertive, but he couldn’t help it. Plus, Wonwoo did look genuinely perplexed. “You’ve just been acting uncomfortable, and…” 

The accusation felt embarrassing now, especially with the way Wonwoo went pink, his eyes going even wider.

“Oh. No, no really.” Wonwoo waved his hands in a way that was almost panicked. “Not at all. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to be awkward. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just—I’m sorry.”

He seemed sincere. He sounded sincere. Seokmin decided to believe him.

“Oh.” Seokmin fidgeted. “Then I’m sorry for yelling.” 

“No! You definitely should have yelled, if that’s what you thought I was doing. It was just… it was nothing, don’t worry about it.” Wonwoo scratched the back of his neck, his hand still there when he glanced up at Seokmin. “I’ve dated guys too, if that helps.” 

And that—for some reason, that was the last thing Seokmin expected Wonwoo to say. “Oh,” he managed out, his tongue clumsy and feeling way too big for his mouth. “Yeah, um… It does.” 

Wonwoo smiled. “Glad to hear it,” he said, and Seokmin’s brain really was mush. Unfortunately, it was time for Seokmin to go to work so Wonwoo left, his parting words a promise to set up another time to work on their poem together. Seokmin nodded dumbly, and once his door was closed, he let his forehead fall against it with a thunk. He was very nearly late for work because he couldn’t get his head on straight, lamenting the incident to Mingyu and Minghao. Mingyu laughed at him, while Minghao had a frown on his face. 

“That doesn’t really explain why he was acting weird, though.” His voice was slow, contemplative. “You said you told him about Jaehyun? What did you say?” 

“I wanted him to know I liked guys, but I didn’t want to outright say it, so I just explained how we met in class,” Seokmin said with a shrug. “But then I didn’t want him to think I was taken either, so I joked about how awkward it was when we broke up, but I was stuck with him because we had class together. That’s all.”

Minghao stared at him for a full five seconds, then reached across the counter and whacked Seokmin in the back of the head. 

“Hey!” Seokmin yelped, rubbing the newly sore spot. “What?”  

“You are sending the worst mixed signals in the world!” Minghao exclaimed. “Do you realize that you—you just told him, to his face, that you wouldn’t want to date a classmate again?” 

“I didn’t say that!”

“You implied it!”

“Well—” Yeah, Seokmin realized. He kind of had implied it, despite trying to imply the exact opposite, and now he felt incredibly stupid. He felt bad, too; if Minghao’s interpretation of the story was also how Wonwoo had taken the events, then he’d really suggested that he wasn’t interested before trapping Wonwoo in his bedroom and making eyes at him for the better part of an hour. Of course Wonwoo had seemed uncomfortable. “How… how do I un-imply it?”

“Hey, Seokmin?” Mingyu popped himself into their conversation. He was sitting cross-legged in the back of the shop, repotting a new batch of little succulents. “You do realize that you work at a flower shop, right?” 

“So what, I should get him flowers?” The thought sent a nervous thrum through Seokmin’s chest. “Flowers are so romantic, though. Isn’t that the same as confessing?” 

“I mean kind of, but…” Mingyu shrugged. “You’ve gotten to know him better, and he’s been nice so far, and you know he’s not straight, so like, what else is there to do except tell him how you feel?”

Seokmin wished that he had at least half of Mingyu’s confidence. He looked to Minghao for genuine advice, but Minghao wasn’t wearing the familiar “Mingyu is Ridiculous” face that Seokmin expected to see. 

“You think I should get Wonwoo flowers?” he asked in disbelief. At that, Mingyu perked up. 

“What?” he asked. “An idea of mine that Minghao doesn’t hate?”

“I don’t hate your ideas,” Minghao told Mingyu. “You’re just… you’re just a bit too optimistic sometimes, that’s all.” 

Mingyu pouted. 

“It’s not your fault!” Minghao insisted. “Your expectations are just a little off. You’re so pretty that nothing bad has ever happened to you.”

“This is a confusing compliment,” Mingyu complained. 

“I don’t even know if he likes flowers,” Seokmin said, just as the door opened. Seokmin and Minghao both turned to the door with their customer service faces on but it was just Jihoon, who frowned at them in turn. 

“Don’t smile at me like that,” he said. “It’s super creepy.”

“Jihoon!” Mingyu jumped up at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice, beaming and rushing over to greet him, just to realize that he was covered in potting soil all the way up to his elbows. 

“Are you ready to go?” Jihoon asked him. Minghao’s mouth dropped open. 

“You’re leaving early again?” 

“I’ve just gotta wash up,” Mingyu said, leaning down to give Jihoon a peck on the cheek, completely ignoring Minghao’s incredulity. “I’ll be right back.” 

He disappeared into the back of the shop, Jihoon walking up to the little flower arranging table, examining the rejects from the day. Most of the flowers on it had been discarded because they were rumpled or wrinkled, Jihoon picking up a rose whose petals were intact, but the stem was broken too close to the blossom for the flower to be put in a vase. 

“Can I have this?” he asked them. Minghao shrugged, Seokmin nodding. Jihoon closed his fingers around the pink petals, hiding the flower bud behind his back. 

“We’re actually going on a date this time.” Mingyu’s tone was matter-of-fact as he returned, the words undoubtedly for Minghao’s benefit, who just rolled his eyes. “Dinner and a movie and everything.”

“I don’t want to know what ‘everything’ means,” Minghao said, and Jihoon laughed. “Just go!” 

They did, Jihoon not revealing the rose he’d taken until they were a few steps down the street, presenting it with a smile and tucking it into Mingyu’s shirt pocket. The pair were still visible thanks to the shop’s large glass wall, so Seokmin got to watch as Mingyu turned bright pink, his face full of delight, and damn near melted all over the sidewalk. 

“See, I don’t think you need to worry about Wonwoo liking flowers or not,” Minghao said, pointing to them. “Because Mingyu doesn’t particularly like flowers either. I bet most of the people that buy bouquets don’t do it because their recipient is a flower enthusiast. It’s just about feeling thought of, you know? Feeling cared for.” 

As always, Seokmin had to admit that Minghao was right. And the red carnations up on the shelf over Minghao’s head would look gorgeous next to the warmth in Wonwoo’s eyes. 

He saw Wonwoo a couple of days later to finish up their poetry project, meeting in Wonwoo’s apartment this time. Seokmin was determined to, at the very least, clear the air about what his story about Jaehyun was supposed to mean; he just had to find an organic way to do it. 

Wonwoo was being similarly quiet, sitting in a chair across the living room from the couch Seokmin had placed himself on. He was much less jumpy though, which was nice, receptive and smiling, though noticeably focused on the assignment they were there for. There was a coffee table between them, Wonwoo’s laptop sitting on it, Seokmin eyeing the device for a few moments before deciding to break the silence. 

“Could I use your computer to put some music on?” he asked. Wonwoo nodded, nudging the laptop in Seokmin’s direction, so Seokmin pulled it into his lap, logging into Spotify and clicking around. Once a song started, he pushed it back. 

“We can turn on something else if you want,” he felt the need to say. “This is just my study playlist. I make playlists for everything.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asked, looking up. He seemed genuinely interested, and Seokmin felt himself smile. 

“I love music,” he explained, happy just to talk about it. “It might be my favorite thing in the world. I could sing all day, I think. If it didn’t annoy my coworkers.” 

“That’s really cool.” The words were said with such sincerity that Seokmin very nearly offered to sing Wonwoo a song. “I could play the guitar in high school, but that’s about it.” 

Seokmin felt a shiver go down his spine at the thought of Wonwoo with a guitar in his lap. 

“Hey, the guitar is something!” he encouraged, and that made Wonwoo laugh. Seokmin himself had gone through a few disjointed attempts at teaching himself guitar in the past, with varying degrees of success. He was planning on asking Jihoon to properly teach him sometime soon. “Besides, you like poetry, and poetry and rap are really close to the same thing. If you think about it, rap battles are just two guys writing poetry about each other.” 

That comparison startled a loud laugh out of Wonwoo’s mouth, his nose scrunching up, the sound so bright and loud that it made Seokmin glow with pride and affection. 

“Is there anything that you could do all day?” Seokmin asked, wanting to keep this conversation going, wanting to make Wonwoo laugh again. It was adorable to watch Wonwoo slip into thought. 

“Video games, I guess?” he finally said. Seokmin wanted to see it, wanted to see Wonwoo in serious gamer mode, with concentration on his face and a headset on. Maybe even one of those cute headsets with the cat ears. “I also really like to read. I’ve thought about trying to take care of plants, but my roommate Chan has some, so for now I’m just happy to look at them.”

“Oh, do you like plants?” Seokmin sat forward, unable to believe how easily this topic had been stumbled upon. If Wonwoo said yes, then during his next shift, he was definitely going to take Mingyu’s advice and make Wonwoo a bouquet. “Like, flowers and stuff?” 

“Yeah, I do. We don’t keep any flowering plants here because one of Chan’s boyfriends is really allergic to pollen, but they’re nice. I like taking pictures of them.” 

Oh. Maybe Seokmin shouldn’t make him a bouquet, then. Wonwoo’s last sentence had caught his attention, though. 

“Pictures?” Was Wonwoo really smart, sexy, able to play guitar, and good at photography? Was Wonwoo actually real? 

Wonwoo nodded, getting up and sitting next to him on the couch, unlocking his phone and opening up the photo gallery app. “I have a couple of actual cameras that use physical film in my room, but I don’t really make a habit of carrying them around,” he explained, handing his cell phone over so Seokmin could swipe through the photos. 

The pictures were good. Seokmin didn’t know much about photography, having only picked up a bit of technical jargon and composition tips from listening to Mingyu and Minghao talk about it, but the colors were so pretty, structure and balance and care clearly having gone into the staging and arrangement of each one. 

“Wow,” he murmured. “These are all so good! Also—you would get along great with like, all of my friends.” 

Wonwoo laughed a little at that, the sound low and close. And he was close, surprisingly so; he was looking over Seokmin’s shoulder at the phone screen, Seokmin able to feel the heat of him against his back. When he turned to look at Wonwoo, Wonwoo didn’t lean away, Seokmin realizing that this was the closest they’d ever been to each other. His mouth was dry. Wonwoo was so, so pretty up close.

“Do you like flowers, Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, his voice soft. The sound of his own name caught in his chest, and Seokmin wanted to kiss him so badly he could barely stand it. 

“I didn’t mean that I don’t want to date a classmate, when I said all that stuff about my ex,” he blurted. So much for being laid-back about it; the words tumbled quickly out of his mouth and Wonwoo stopped, staring at him. “I just wanted some kind of, I don’t know, casual way to come out to you.” 

“Oh,” Wonwoo said. “I—I thought that you were… That’s... Oh.” 

“Yeah. That’s all.” 

Should he say more? Should he confess? Wonwoo still hadn’t moved away from him. It would be easy, so easy, to just lean in.

Silence hung for a heartbeat, then the door to the apartment burst open. 

“Hey!”

Seokmin jumped nearly out of his skin, lurching away, Wonwoo leaping to his feet. Five people entered the apartment, one after the other, each one a stranger that waltzed in like they lived there. Wonwoo’s face was bright pink. 

As it turned out, one of the people did live there; the person that had let out the exclamation was Wonwoo’s roommate Chan, a younger guy with a bright smile. Seokmin introduced himself quickly to Chan first, then to Vernon and Seungkwan, then to Wonwoo’s other friends Seungcheol and Joshua. All of them were smiley, and all seemed very kind, Seungcheol saying that they’d all heard a lot about Seokmin from Wonwoo and were excited to finally meet him. The realization that Wonwoo had also talked about Seokmin to his own friends was a revelation that Seokmin had to file away for later, because for as nice as they were, five new strangers was a lot all at once. Maybe it showed on his face, the way it was a bit overwhelming, because Wonwoo gathered up his things for him, sliding a warm hand onto the small of his back as he led Seokmin to the door. 

“Thanks,” Seokmin said, taking his backpack and pulling it onto his shoulders. 

“I figured that we’re pretty much done with the analysis anyway,” Wonwoo said, which was true. “We can send each other our final copies of the assignment before class, just to look over them one last time. How does that sound?” 

“It sounds good!” Seokmin gave him a smile, trying to pretend that his heart wasn’t still hammering over whatever had just happened on the couch. Wonwoo smiled back, his hand sliding away, but not before curling his hand around Seokmin’s side and giving his hip a squeeze. The press of Wonwoo’s fingers sent a zip through Seokmin’s stomach, biting on the inside of his cheek. 

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” Wonwoo said, Seokmin escaping the apartment before he passed out. 

The poetry project was turned in without a problem, and once the paper was out of Seokmin’s hands, he was a bit disappointed that it was over. He didn’t really have an excuse to hang out with Wonwoo outside of class anymore, and with how Wonwoo’s only messages to him over the weekend had been about the project and nothing else, Seokmin was starting to worry that their relationship might be limited to in-class only. That Wonwoo had hung out with him, had seen what he had to offer, and simply wasn’t interested. 

He toiled rather dramatically over all of it, over the interactions they’d had, trying to parse Wonwoo’s body language with the lack of vocal forwardness, and by the time he’d gotten to work, he’d managed to convince himself that construing Wonwoo’s kindness as anything else had been presumptuous self-projection at best. He told Mingyu and Minghao all about it that afternoon, flopping with defeat over the front counter. 

“Like—he’s nice when we’re together, he’s so sweet and attentive and stuff, but… I just don’t know what to think.” Seokmin blew his bangs out of his eyes. His friends had matching sympathetic faces on, directing the looks his way. “I mean, it’s possible that I misread everything, isn’t it? That maybe he’s just really nice?”

“Maybe.” Mingyu reached out, straightening Seokmin’s bangs for him with warm hands. “He could just be shy, right?”

“I guess.” Seokmin resisted the urge to flop all the way onto the floor. He wasn’t good at flirting. He didn’t have the confidence to act on his own intuition. He really just needed someone to plainly tell him how they felt to his face, and that didn’t seem like Wonwoo’s style at all.

“For what it’s worth Seokmin, I thought he liked you,” Minghao said. “I really did.” 

“Do you want me to make you some cookies?” Mingyu offered, his eyes big and sympathetic. “I could drop them off at your apartment when I’m done.”

“Yeah, okay,” Seokmin said, after losing his internal battle against wanting to be coddled. Besides, there was a fair chance that Mingyu would just make the cookies anyway, and Soonyoung liked Mingyu’s baking too. “Thanks.” 

Work was busy. Busier than it usually was, more people coming in and ordering bouquets than usual, poor Mingyu having to deal with a rather large incoming flower shipment on his own while Seokmin and Minghao got arrangements made. In a way it was nice, something to distract his mind and keep him busy, but it was exhausting too. After a couple of hours though, the workflow died down, Mingyu dragging a cooler full of flowers out behind the counter so they could all trim and sort them together. 

The flowers were fragrant, the smell giving Seokmin a bit of a headache, pinching his nose and doing as much as he could one handed. When the phone rang he jumped to answer it, his tone coming out small and nasally. 

“Welcome to Rainbow Bouquet, how can I help you today?” 

“Uh, hi.” The speaker was hesitant and Seokmin froze, able to recognize the deep voice instantly. Wonwoo was calling. “Do you do deliveries? I’d like to order a bouquet for someone.” 

Oh. Seokmin felt his heart sink. That explained it, then; Wonwoo had someone else that he’d liked this whole time, and Seokmin had been chasing after affection that didn’t even exist. What a new, even sadder level of rejection. Now, despite how dumb it felt and the strange looks he was getting from his coworkers, he kept his nostrils pinched, not wanting Wonwoo to recognize his voice. 

“We do!” he said, mustering back his customer service demeanor. “How would you like the bouquet to look? Do you have a specific flower or color scheme in mind?” 

“Um…” There was silence for a moment then Wonwoo spoke again, faraway and clearly not meant for him. “What colors?” 

“Yellow!” came a voice—Chan’s voice, bright and excited. “That fits him, don’t you think?” 

Him. An unfair spike of jealousy flared up, Seokmin tamping it down desperately. Wonwoo must have agreed with Chan’s opinion, coming back to speak to Seokmin again. “Maybe yellow? I don’t really know, if I’m being honest. Just something bright and pretty would be perfect.”

“That’s alright. It’s the thought that counts, really.” Seokmin took a breath, grabbing a pen and pulling the stack of sticky notes they kept by the phone closer to him. He told Wonwoo their prices and got Wonwoo’s payment information, then prepared himself to drive the final nail into the coffin. “And could I have the name and address of who this bouquet is being sent to?”

“Lee Seokmin,” Wonwoo said, without missing a beat, and Seokmin’s breath stopped in his chest, letting go of his nose in shock. He just stood there, stunned, as Wonwoo relayed Seokmin’s own apartment address back to him. There was a long stretch of silence. 

“Hello?” Wonwoo finally asked.

“I… I’m sorry.” Seokmin swallowed, giving his head a little shake. “Could—could you repeat that name for me, please?”

There must have been something wrong with his voice, because both Mingyu and Minghao turned to him at once, Minghao’s lips and eyebrows all scrunched together, Mingyu frowning with his head cocked to the side. 

“Lee Seokmin,” Wonwoo said again, his voice as steady as it had been the first time, and Seokmin realized that despite mentioning work multiple times while hanging out with Wonwoo, he’d never actually said where he worked or what his job was. “Do you need the address again too?” 

“No, I… I’ve got it, thank you.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Nope! That’s it!” Seokmin needed to hang up. He felt in danger of going slightly hysterical. “We’ll start working on it right away. Thank you so much for your order!” 

Pleasantries were exchanged and Seokmin slammed the phone down, staring at it.

“What happened?” Mingyu wanted to know. “Is everything okay?” 

“Who did you talk to?” Minghao asked.

“I… That was Wonwoo,” Seokmin told them. “He just ordered a bouquet. Delivery.”

Minghao’s face crumpled. “Oh, Seokmin—”

“He wants it to be delivered to me. He… he said my name, my address. It’s for me.” 

“What?!” Minghao’s voice was the loudest Seokmin had ever heard it. Mingyu, meanwhile, grabbed Seokmin around the middle and hoisted him off his feet. 

“We told you that he liked you!” he exclaimed in Seokmin’s face. 

“I mean, I don’t know—he didn’t say it was, you know, romantic, maybe it’s some sort of thank you for the project—” 

“Oh, don’t even start.” Minghao’s voice was confident as Mingyu set him back down. “Come on, go make yourself a bouquet.” 

“Me?” Seokmin squeaked.

“Yeah. I mean, he paid for it, and who knows what flowers that you think are prettiest better than you do? Then march yourself to his place and kiss him, please.” 

So Seokmin got to work. Mingyu and Minghao helped him when they had a free moment, and due to the collaborative effort the end result was rather gorgeous, predominantly yellow, blue, and white, with the occasional pop of pink. Just looking at it made Seokmin smile, and when he managed to finally tear his gaze away from the flowers and back to his friends, Mingyu was smiling with so much excitement that he was bouncing on the balls of his feet with the knuckles of his pointer fingers trapped between his teeth, and Minghao’s arms were crossed.

“Are you finished?” Minghao asked, Seokmin nodding. “Then go! What are you still doing here?”

“Wait, seriously?” Sure, Minghao had told him to go kiss Wonwoo, but he didn’t think he’d actually been serious. “My shift isn’t over! The store’s been busy!”

“And you have a confession to accept,” Minghao said. “Come on, Mingyu leaves early for love all the time. Go on, Seokmin.” 

Mingyu nodded in support of the idea, and after giving the both of them rushed hugs, Seokmin was out the door. 

He went straight to Wonwoo’s apartment, climbing the stairs and knocking on the door, the bouquet in his hands and his heart in his throat. He didn’t realize until that exact moment that he hadn’t even taken his work uniform off, still in his “Rainbow Bouquets” apron with his name tag pinned to his chest, but it was too late to do anything about that now; the door swung open. Wonwoo was standing there, freezing and staring at him. 

“Hi,” Seokmin said after a beat of silence. Wonwoo was so surprised that Seokmin began overthinking things, that this was all wrong, maybe some kind of wild misunderstanding. Wonwoo, meanwhile, was quickly going deeper and deeper shades of pink. Chan popped his head in the doorway, surveyed the situation for about five seconds, then said “I’ll be in my room!” and hurried off.

“You… You work at the flower shop,” Wonwoo said. 

“Yeah.” 

“Um. Surprise?” Wonwoo tried, stepping back, so Seokmin went inside, closing the door behind him. “It’s, uh. The flowers look nice. It’s really pretty.”

“Wonwoo, please.” Seokmin couldn’t really stand this anymore. Wonwoo had smiled at him. Had given him his phone number. Had sent him a bouquet. But he hadn’t… He hadn’t said anything. “What—why did you want flowers delivered to me?” 

“I—Seokmin?” Wonwoo blinked at him again, a small smile growing on his face. “Because I like you. I really, really like you. Why else?” 

The words took a moment to register. Once they had, they didn’t feel real. 

“What? Really?” 

“You’re surprised?” An embarrassed sort of smile took over Wonwoo’s expression, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I think that I blushed every time you smiled at me. I really thought I was being obvious.”

“I… I mean…” Seokmin felt like he was floundering, stopping then starting again. “I kind of thought you did, maybe at first, but you never said anything so I just—I just convinced myself that I’d just wanted you to like me.”

Wonwoo winced a little. “I’m, um… I’m not good at this,” he confessed. “But you’re—you’re so bright and handsome that it made me nervous. Then, when you said that thing about the difficult time you had last semester, I tried to keep myself more distanced, and just friendly.”

“Oh no.” Seokmin groaned, covering his face with a hand. “Please don’t say you thought that I wasn’t interested in you.” 

“Okay, then I won’t say it.” Wonwoo’s eyes held amusement in them, his pursed lips holding the answer, and Seokmin fully whined. 

“I can’t believe this. I’m an idiot, okay? Just never listen to anything I say ever again.” 

That made Wonwoo laugh, reaching up to pull his hand from his face, their fingers tangling together. 

“Well, you cleared that up last time you were here,” Wonwoo said lightly. “Then I wanted to—I don’t know, our poem was about flowers so I thought this would be… Romantic?” 

He looked—he looked a precious mixture of hopeful and bashful, and Seokmin was ready to melt into a puddle right in the middle of his living room floor. He tightened his grip on the flowers in his hand, the plastic wrap around the base giving him away with a muffled crinkle. 

“And I still want to apologize for acting strange at your apartment,” Wonwoo said. “I promise, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I was just trying really, really hard not to kiss you.”

“You want me to kiss you?!” Seokmin asked, unable to help it. The question was a little too loud and felt a little stupid, but he was resisting the urge to pinch himself. Wonwoo smiled. 

“Honestly, Seokmin? You could have kissed me the day we met,” he said. So Seokmin let Wonwoo’s hand go, reaching for the front of his shirt instead and pulling him in. 

It was quick and clumsy, definitely not Seokmin’s best work, the plastic bouquet wrap scrunching up between them. Wonwoo pulled back slightly, both hands settling on Seokmin’s waist as he met Seokmin’s eyes. Seokmin felt his knees turn to jelly as Wonwoo looked back to his mouth, his nose brushing Seokmin’s, leaning in slowly and kissing him with purpose. 

Oh. Oh. Seokmin’s fingers curled, twisting into Wonwoo’s black t-shirt. He was either going to melt through the floor or float through the ceiling, and as he kissed Wonwoo back he felt a smile curl against his lips. Wonwoo was smiling, smiling and kissing him, and affection swelled so great and fast in Seokmin’s chest that he had to pull back, holding the flowers slightly to the side to wrap an arm around Wonwoo and pull him in for a hug. 

Wonwoo clearly didn’t expect that, air leaving his lungs in laughter, but he let himself be pulled in, a hand slipping around the small of Seokmin’s back to hug him in return. 

“I, um.” Seokmin pushed his face into Wonwoo’s neck. “I like you too.” 

“I figured.” Wonwoo sounded amused now. 

“You did?” 

“You left your Spotify logged in on my computer,” Wonwoo told him, and Seokmin pulled back quickly. “You’ll have to forgive me, but when I saw a playlist titled with my name, I had to click on it.” 

“Oh no,” Seokmin mumbled, feeling his ears burn. He buried his face into Wonwoo’s neck again, Wonwoo’s laugh a fond sound as both arms encircled Seokmin's waist. That playlist was full of love songs; if he remembered correctly, lovelovelove by Yerin Baek was the first song on it—the exact opposite of subtle. 

“Hey, it’s alright. You did say you made playlists for everything,” Wonwoo said. Seokmin stepped away to see him smiling, so he put the bouquet down on the kitchen counter to kiss Wonwoo again. 

He felt able to kiss him properly this time, pressing in close, both hands free to run up Wonwoo’s chest and loop around his neck. Wonwoo made a contented hum of a sound, pulling Seokmin’s body in, deepening the kiss a little more, and Seokmin moved to cradle Wonwoo’s jaw with his fingers. Wonwoo just felt so nice, so nice and safe and strong under his hands. 

“Could we sit down?” Wonwoo finally asked, the words a mumble against his lips. 

“Are you alright?” Seokmin asked back, leaning away to look at Wonwoo’s face. Wonwoo’s bashful expression was back. 

“My knees feel a little weak,” he confessed, and that was so adorable that it nearly killed Seokmin, reaching to take his hand. They sat on the couch, Seokmin taking the time to properly slot their hands together, realizing when he was finished that Wonwoo was simply looking at him. 

“What?” Seokmin asked, Wonwoo just giving his head a little shake, lifting their hands up to press a quick kiss to his knuckles.

“You’re just—you’re so cute, it’s unreal.” 

That, in turn, had Seokmin flustering up, covering his face with his free hand again, and Wonwoo laughed at him. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I’ve been so awkward! I can’t believe you think I’m cute.”

“You haven’t been awkward,” Wonwoo said. Seokmin raised an eyebrow, not believing him in the slightest, and Wonwoo laughed again. 

“Okay. You’ve been a little bit awkward. But I have too; I tripped over my own feet because you smiled at me, and then you made fun of me for it.” 

“I’m only awkward because of you,” Seokmin grumbled. “I can’t talk to hot people. It’s impossible.”

“Glad to know I’m ‘hot people’,” Wonwoo said, the smile on his face so teasing that Seokmin gave him a light elbow jab in protest.

Chan poked his head out of a room that Seokmin assumed was his, looking at the two of them. 

“So?” he asked Wonwoo, grinning. “Is Cute Poetry Class Guy your boyfriend yet?” 

“I…” Wonwoo glanced in Seokmin’s direction. “If he wants to be.” 

“That’s me, right?” Seokmin asked, the question more of a joke than anything, Chan laughing while Wonwoo nodded with an amused smile. “Of course I do.”

Chan beamed. “I’m texting everyone,” he announced, disappearing again. Seokmin glanced at Wonwoo. 

“Cute Poetry Class Guy, huh?” 

“You’re cute.” Wonwoo explained with a shrug, like the math was simple enough. “You’re in my poetry class.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re Hot Poetry Class Guy to my friends,” Seokmin told him, and Wonwoo burst out laughing again. They kissed a bit more and talked a bit more, but eventually Seokmin made his way to the door. 

“Don’t forget your flowers,” Wonwoo prompted, handing the bouquet over. “They’re lovely, really; you did a great job.” 

“Thanks.” Seokmin considered the arrangement for a moment before pulling a pink primrose from the middle of the bunch and pressing it into Wonwoo’s hands. “Here.” 

It was wonderful, watching the blush and smile spread in equal parts over Wonwoo’s face. Then Wonwoo pulled him in for a long, strong kiss. 

Seokmin’s first thought after bursting into Soonyoung’s bedroom to announce “I have a boyfriend!” was that he probably should have knocked first. He was supposed to still be at work, after all. But while Soonyoung and Jeonghan were horizontal on Soonyoung’s bed, they did still have all of their clothes on, Soonyoung blinking at him for a moment before sitting up. 

“Wait, really?” A grin split his face, pointing at the bouquet in Seokmin’s hands. “Hot Poetry Guy? Did he give you those?” 

Seokmin nodded and they cooed, Jeonghan insisting on hearing the full story. Seokmin wanted to get his bouquet in some water, so they all migrated to the living room, Seokmin telling them what happened while he trimmed all the flower stems and put them in a vase. He felt flustered and happy in equal measure, but when he was finished, Jeonghan had a contemplative frown on his face. 

“And his name is Wonwoo?” he asked. “Does he know a Choi Seungcheol?” 

It took Seokmin a moment to think, but he was pretty sure that “Seungcheol” was one of the names he’d gotten in the split second that he’d met Wonwoo’s friends. 

“I can ask him but yeah, I think so. Why?” 

“Well, I mean—you know my friend Seungcheol, right?” 

“Hey!” Soonyoung exclaimed, hitting his boyfriend lightly on the arm, Jeonghan giggling and grabbing at his wrist. “You’ve known Seokmin’s crush this whole time and you never said anything?” 

“I didn’t know that they were the same guy!” Jeonghan exclaimed back, his nose scrunched up in amusement. “Congratulations, Seokmin. Wonwoo is really sweet. He tries to act cool, but don’t let him trick you into thinking he isn’t a nerd.” 

Soonyoung had no room to talk though, because as it turned out, he knew Chan through the university’s dance program. Jihoon was also friends with Seungcheol, and Mingyu had met Chan’s boyfriend Seungkwan a handful of times. It was a strange coincidence, the idea that even if they hadn’t had a class together, it was likely that he and Wonwoo still would have met eventually. Their friends came together in a handful of disjointed groups over the next couple of weeks, and after running into Mingyu and Jihoon while out on a date—and Mingyu and Wonwoo getting along incredibly well, just like Seokmin had thought they would—they organized a get together. It was a casual thing, orchestrated mostly by Soonyoung and Jeonghan, despite it taking place at Wonwoo and Chan’s apartment. There would be food, drinks, conversation—and Mario Kart, because it was the only video game that Soonyoung actually knew how to play. 

It was fun. Really, really fun; not only did Wonwoo end up liking his friends, but the rest of Wonwoo’s friends did too. Jeonghan was teasing Chan within the first fifteen minutes, Soonyoung and Seungkwan got along like a house on fire, and Minghao and Vernon spent a lot of time chatting about things that seemed random to Seokmin, but both were very impassioned about. At one point, Junhui made them all laugh so hard that Seungcheol’s drink came out his nose. 

The casual Mario Kart playing turned into a full on tournament by the end of the night, and Wonwoo was crushing everyone. Seokmin played supportive boyfriend, cheering from the sidelines until it was actually his turn to go against Wonwoo. He didn’t have much confidence in himself or his abilities, but Wonwoo’s friends had apparently gotten tired of him winning every match, and had decided to take it upon themselves to do their best to distract him.

“Hey,” Seungcheol started, grinning. “Did you guys know that before they started talking, Wonwoo acted all dumb and asked Seokmin questions in class just so Seokmin would talk to him?” 

Soonyoung let out a dramatic gasp. Jihoon began cackling. Wonwoo promptly drove right off the course and into a lake.

“Shut up,” he grumbled to Seungcheol, Seungcheol letting out a loud laugh from where he was nestled under Joshua’s arm. 

“That’s what you were doing?” Seokmin asked in surprise. 

“I told you that I was obvious,” Wonwoo mumbled, jerking his controller to the right. An adorable blush had swept up his cheeks. 

“Oh, you should have seen him after you left, the day we all met you for the first time,” Chan told Seokmin. “He was such a mess, telling us what you’d said, asking us if he should have kissed you—”

“I told him that he was an idiot for not doing it,” Seungkwan piped up from his perch on Vernon’s lap. 

“—and then the rest of the weekend was spent stressing out about how he wanted to confess to you.” 

“I hate all of you, by the way,” Wonwoo's voice was calmly passive but his face was red, an explosion of laughter going up. 

“Don’t worry,” Soonyoung gave Wonwoo a pat on the head. “Every day after class on his way to work, Seokmin would text me about you.”

“Oh, really?” Wonwoo looked up at him in interest, Soonyoung nodding in excitement and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What did he say?” 

“Hey!” Seokmin whined, but Soonyoung would not be deterred, scrolling for a long moment. 

“Here we go! First day of classes.” Soonyoung cleared his throat as though trying to act professional, but he couldn’t stop grinning. “Seokmin says: you will not believe this. The guy I’m sitting next to is so hot that I don’t think he’s actually real. I can’t even look straight at him, I have to keep glancing at him out of the corner of my eye like I’m looking at the sun.” 

The group laughed at that too, though there was some cooing as well. 

“Oh, another one: do you think if I ask nicely, he’ll let me bite him?” Soonyoung’s voice was full of glee. It was Seokmin’s turn, this time, to accidentally drive off of the track. “That one was completely unprompted. I didn’t know who he was talking about for a second.” 

“Well, Wonwoo?” Vernon asked, as the laughter died down a second time. “Can he?” 

“I—yes?” Wonwoo’s blush hadn’t gone anywhere, his car also disappearing into the lake a second later. Neither of them were going to win this race. “Shut up.” 

Soonyoung read out a few more messages, and Seokmin couldn’t help but notice with appreciation that he only shared ones that were light and funny, not any with genuine private feelings in them. It was also funny to watch Wonwoo react to hearing those things; while Seokmin was a bit embarrassed, he loved and trusted his friends enough for it to not be too bad, but Wonwoo clearly wasn’t as used to being teased as he was. Wonwoo was bright red, playing hilariously terribly. Once the race was finally, finally over Seokmin grabbed Wonwoo by the hand and yanked him out of the lion’s den, shutting the door to his bedroom safely behind them.

“Alright out there?” he asked, the question falling off into a laugh as Wonwoo pressed in, wrapping his arms around Seokmin’s waist, pushing his face into Seokmin’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’d stop if we asked them to.”  

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo said, lifting his head up. “They mean well. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” While Wonwoo sounded sure his face was still pink, Seokmin cupping Wonwoo’s warm cheeks in his hands. “You won’t overheat, or keel over or something?”

“I mean, I might,” Wonwoo admitted with a shrug, angling his eyes away from Seokmin’s, his next words softer. “But it’s not like I don’t like hearing about how much you like me.” 

It was Seokmin’s old compliments, not the teasing from their friends, that was making Wonwoo blush. He truly couldn’t get any cuter, Seokmin unable to help the giggles that left his mouth as he brought Wonwoo’s head in close to his, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Did you mean it?” he asked. Wonwoo blinked at him. 

“Mean what?” 

“That I could bite you.” 

“Really?” Wonwoo asked, sounding amused. Seokmin tilted his chin to press their lips together, trapping Wonwoo’s bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a little nip as he pulled away. Wonwoo’s grip tightened on his waist, a small, protesting whine coming from the back of his throat as Seokmin leaned back instead of kissing him again. 

“We can’t hide in here,” Seokmin explained. “Our friends are out there.” 

“But this is my room,” Wonwoo pointed out. “And my apartment.” 

“Exactly. You need to be a good host,” Seokmin told him, unable not to laugh. Wonwoo hadn’t let him go, hadn’t even loosened his grip, so Seokmin relented and gave him one more kiss. 

Wonwoo caught him off guard, the kiss strong and deep, enough to make Seokmin’s head spin. When he pulled back he didn’t just lean away; he stepped back completely instead, his hand on the door handle. Every single inch of Seokmin’s skin was buzzing, reaching out to snag Wonwoo’s shirt. 

“What?” Wonwoo asked him. 

“That—that’s not fair,” Seokmin complained weakly, and Wonwoo laughed.

“I thought we couldn’t hide in here? That I had to be a good host?” 

“But this is your room,” Seokmin said, and Wonwoo laughed out loud, his nose going all adorably scrunched up. “This is your apartment.” 

“And I want to win that Mario Kart tournament.” Wonwoo was grinning, a light tease in his voice. Then his expression softened. “I’ll see about people clearing out after the tournament is over,” he proposed. “How does that sound?” 

“Ah, I’ll try to wait that long,” Seokmin said, but he could feel himself relenting, sliding his hand from Wonwoo’s shirt and down to his wrist. “I might die, though.” 

Wonwoo tangled their hands together, entwining their fingers and leaning in to press a kiss to the mole on Seokmin’s cheek. The gesture was so sweet that Seokmin wanted to kiss him all over. 

“You’re strong,” he said, a teasing lilt back in his voice. “I believe in you. You’ve got this.” Then he gave Seokmin’s hand a squeeze. “And hey, you’ve got me.” 

“So cheesy,” Seokmin chastised, because if he didn’t, he’d do something stupid, like melt into an absolutely into puddle of mush on Wonwoo’s bedroom floor. Wonwoo just laughed again, opening the door, Seokmin giving his hand a squeeze back as they stepped out to rejoin their friends.