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Mingyu isn’t stupid. There are things he doesn’t know, or understand, but that’s just life. He’s not stupid. Sometimes he feels stupid, sure, like when he does something clumsy, or embarasses himself in some other way. But it’s fleeting, it only sticks for a moment, then it’s gone. There’s only one person who can make him feel really stupid. That confounds him in such ways that he feels see-through and barren, like everything he is is on display, while the other person stands obscured in the shadows.
After all these years, Yoon Jeonghan is still a mystery to Mingyu.
There are some things he knows, of course. His favorite foods and how he takes his coffee. There are even things he knows about Jeonghan that no one else knows. Little things, like the scar on his back from falling when he was a kid. Things he keeps close to his chest, carrying them around like they’re an oath, a promise. But comparatively, there are more things Mingyu doesn’t know about Jeonghan. He doesn’t know what it means when Jeonghan holds his hand or when he comes into Mingyu’s room late at night and falls asleep next to him. He doesn’t know why Jeonghan looks at him like he does. He doesn’t know why Jeonghan hooks his thumb into Mingyu’s belt loop in crowded spaces.
The answer should be straight forward– it should be easy. They’re friends. Colleagues. They’ve known each other for years, so why wouldn’t they? It’s not like Mingyu’s the only one Jeonghan does it to. It’s just what Jeonghan’s like.
And Mingyu is like he is. He overthinks, puts meaning into actions that have none. But he can’t help it. When Jeonghan looks at him like he does, he can’t help it. He’s got a face like an angel, that gives Mingyu hope for a future that can never exist. Because at the end of the day, he isn’t special to Jeonghan– at least not more than any other of the members are.
And yet… and yet. There’s a small voice in his head that won’t shut up no matter how much he tries to kill it, telling him that it means something, that it could be something. That they could be something. They can’t. The voice is a liar. It’s Mingyu’s own selfish wants and needs trying to delude him into thinking Jeonghan feels the same. It’s stupid. It’s stupid, but even though he knows this the little voice won’t shut up. He’s tried to bury it, but when he’s done he’s still left with the grave.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Mingyu looks up and sees Jeonghan standing in front of him, hands in his pockets and shoes already on. He realizes belatedly that everyone else has either left the dorm, or is on their way out.
“Hyung,” he says as he gets up, “sorry, I must have zoned out. I didn’t realize we were leaving.”
“What were you thinking about?” Jeonghan asks, following Mingyu as he walks to the front door to pull on his shoes, “you looked a little sad.”
“Oh,” Mingyu mumbles, bending down to tie his shoelaces, “uhm, it’s nothing, I just– I guess I’m a little tired. Didn’t sleep all too well last night.”
Jeonghan scoffs, “I don’t know why you still try to hide things from me, Mingyu. You should know by now that there’s no point. I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
Mingyu laughs, but his heart does something weird and painful in his chest, “I’m not lying to you, hyung.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Jeonghan says, waving a hand dismissively as Mingyu stands back up, “I’m sure you’re telling the truth about being tired. But it’s not the whole truth, is it? There’s more going on in that brain of yours, isn’t there?”
“Sure, hyung,” Mingyu sighs, pulling on his jacket, “whatever you say.”
“Brat,” Jeonghan says, although there’s no anger in his voice. Not even a hint of annoyance. “I’ll figure it out sooner or later, you know that, don’t you?”
Mingyu doesn’t respond to this, just laughs and shakes his head, flushing slightly, and Jeonghan gives him a mischievous smile. He looks amused and very pleased with himself, having gotten a reaction out of Mingyu. Jeonghan knows how to get under his skin, and he finds great enjoyment in doing so. The strange part is Mingyu doesn’t mind at all. He quite enjoys it, actually.
He doesn’t mind Jeonghan being under his skin. Sometimes he wishes he’d make a permanent home there, burrowed under his skin like a parasite.
As they leave the dorm Jeonghan links his arm with Mingyu’s, the smile still on his face as they enter the elevator. Minghao gives Mingyu a look from the corner he’s standing in but doesn’t say anything. Once in the car Jeonghan lets go of Mingyu only to sit in the back and pat the seat next to him, smiling at him expectantly. Mingyu laughs and shakes his head, but he sits down beside him all the same. Jeonghan takes one of Mingyu’s hands and brings it into his lap, intertwining their fingers with a soft sigh. Then his head falls onto Mingyu’s shoulder, and with impressive speed he drifts off to sleep, his breathing slowing and the muscles in his body relaxing as he melts into Mingyu’s side.
The voice in Mingyu’s head starts shouting at him from the coffin he's buried it in, it tells him lies, makes his hand sweaty and his heart beat faster. That stupid, stupid voice. Jeonghan does this with everyone, doesn’t he? He likes sleeping with his head on someone’s shoulder. He holds hands with the members often. Today, he’s just decided to cling to Mingyu. That’s all it is.
After a while Jeonghan starts snoring softly, still clutching his hand tight. He must be having some kind of dream, because he keeps squeezing Mingyu’s hand and making soft little noises in his ear. It makes him feel a little bit insane. But they’re friends– they’re just friends. Mingyu repeats to himself like if he says it enough times it’ll eventually be true.
“We’re here, hyung,” Mingyu says softly as they arrive at the airport. Jeonghan just groans, so Mingyu gives his hand a squeeze, and moves his shoulder up and down until he blinks open his eyes with a whine.
Seungcheol, who’s sitting in the front seat, passes a pack of masks to them and Mingyu accepts it, taking a mask for himself and handing one to Jeonghan before giving it back. Once they’re out of the car they’re immediately greeted by a sea of fans and journalists, a hundred cameras flashing in their faces as they try and make their way through the crowd. Jeonghan lets out a pained noise as a camera gets particularly close to his face, and instinctively Mingyu puts his arm around his shoulder, pulling him to his side.
“Don’t worry,” Mingyu mutters under his breath, “I’ve got you, hyung.”
Jeonghan lets out a small noise of ascent, and he snakes an arm around Mingyu’s waist as they continue into the airport, where they’re met with an even bigger crowd– Their security does their best to keep them at bay, but even so, it’s overwhelming. Jeonghan seems to still be only half awake, so Mingyu keeps him close to his side, using his larger frame to shield him from the mob as best he can. After they make it through the security gate Mingyu tries to let go off Jeonghan, but the older doesn’t let him, he intertwines his fingers with the hand Mingyu’s got on his shoulder, and so they stick together.
“What seat are you in?” Jeonghan asks, once they’re standing in line waiting to board the plane.
“26b,” Mingyu replies, looking down to see Jeonghan examining his boarding pass. He hasn’t left his side since they left the dorms. “What about you, hyung?”
“26a,” he says looking up and flashing Mingyu a bright smile, “looks like I lucked out.”
“You’re just gonna use me as a pillow again, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Mingyu scoffs, which only makes Jeonghan laugh. Soon enough they’re boarding the plane, and they’re squeezed into the plane seats next to each other. Jeonghan puts his airpods in and lets his head lull onto Mingyu’s shoulder.
Once they’re in the air he’s already fallen asleep– he looks so peaceful, sleeping like this. Mingyu had been able to feel the stress coming off him in waves as they struggled through the crowded airport, so seeing him relaxed and at peace is a comfort. It makes his heart feel at ease. It doesn’t take very long before Mingyu falls asleep too.
A few hours later they land, and they’re split up into cars once more. Mingyu ends up sitting in the front seat while Jeonghan sits squarely behind him, and he’s not sure why he feels a little sad– or he knows, but is too embarrassed to admit, even if it’s only to himself.
“What are we gonna do about roommates hyung?” Chan asks from his place in the backseat.
“I haven’t thought about it,” Seungcheol replies, scratching his chin thoughtfully, “we could do rock paper scissors?”
“I wanna room with Mingyu,” Jeonghan says, making Mingyu’s head whip around to look at him with a raised eyebrow, to which Jeonghan just grins, “what’s that look for?”
“I–”
“Alright, that’s one room sorted at least,” Seungcheol interrupts.
“Hey!” Mingyu exclaims, “don’t I get a say in this?”
Seungcheol just rolls his eyes in response. Like he knows that Mingyu’s just bluffing. He probably does.
“Come on, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says, reaching a hand out to touch the back of Mingyu’s neck through the gap between the headrest and the seat, “I don’t bite, you know.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Mingyu says, “but fine. I’ll room with you.”
“Good boy,” Jeonghan says, grinning, and Mingyu feels his cheeks heat up so he quickly turns back around, looking pointedly straight ahead.
The others continue to discuss the roommate situation, but Mingyu doesn’t have the mind to. He feels dizzy, like someone’s just knocked him over the back of the head with a baseball bat. There’s a feeling growing in his stomach, heavy and poisonous like lead. By the time they get to the hotel it’s grown to the size of a small boulder, weighing him down and making him feel sick. It was a terrible, awful idea. He should’ve never agreed to it. How was he ever going to survive this?
The few days at the hotel they have ahead of them suddenly seem infinitely long– a never ending tunnel with no end in sight. He shouldn’t have agreed to it, but then again… Jeonghan had been the one to suggest it. He’d wanted to. It wasn’t Mingyu being selfish and needy, too much, too greedy, it was just Jeonghan being Jeonghan. It was going to be fine.
They pull up next to the hotel, and soon Mingyu and Jeonghan have entered their room. Mingyu throws his bag into a corner and throws himself on the bed with a groan, his muscles aching, his head still spinning. The boulder is still lying heavy and firm in the pit of his stomach.
“Is it alright if I shower first?” Jeonghan asks.
Mingyu blinks at him before nodding vaguely, “oh,” he says, “sure, hyung.”
Jeonghan smiles at him before walking into the bathroom, leaving Mingyu lying on the bed. It’s no longer a boulder in his stomach, but something more like a hurricane or a tsunami, something too big to be in there, too strong and too big for words. He feels like he’s gonna throw up, but he swallows roughly and pulls out his phone instead, determined to ignore whatever feeling it was.
It would be fine. He’d take a shower and it’d wash all of it away. His dirty hands that want and want would be scrubbed clean. Minutes pass, and Mingyu notices that Jeonghan is taking longer than usual to shower– he doesn’t know why he knows this. He shoves the observation into a grave next to the little voice in his head. Then there’s a click and the door swings open, and Jeonghan walks out, and–
Fuck.
Mingyu can’t look away. His skin grows painfully hot as he lays there, looking. Jeonghan’s skin is still wet, water droplets running down his exposed torso all the way down to the towel that’s hanging low around his waist. He cards his fingers through his wet hair lazily as he sorts through his luggage. Then he and Mingyu make eye contact– but as soon as it happens Mingyu breaks it.
He gets off the bed and rushes into the bathroom, while Jeonghan says nothing. A few minutes later Mingyu’s standing in the shower, scalding hot water running down his back as his forehead rests against the wall. He feels stupid. So stupid. Everytime his brain drifts off and he starts to picture Jeonghan on the other side of the door, half naked, skin glistening and wet, he bumps his head into the wall. He’s so stupid.
And he’s not sure why, but the whole situation had been made infinitely worse because Jeonghan hadn’t said anything– he’d just stood there. Jeonghan would’ve usually made a snarky comment or a joke, teased Mingyu in some way, but he didn’t.
It felt like acknowledgement that it was something, when it wasn’t. When it isn’t. When Mingyu’s already seen him half naked or more plenty of times throughout their many years together, just like he’d seen the rest of seventeen. But this wasn’t at the dorms or after dance practice in the showers, it was just… them. Just the two of them, alone, in a hotel room. It was different. It shouldn’t be.
Jeonghan should’ve made a joke but he didn’t, and Mingyu doesn’t know why, and it makes him so frustrated that he wants to cry. He just wants to understand Jeonghan, wants to know what’s going on inside his head, wants to know him. But it doesn’t matter how badly Mingyu wants to understand Jeonghan if he doesn’t want to be understood.
With a sigh, Mingyu turns off the shower and steps onto the bathroom floor. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and flinches slightly at the sight– his skin is an angry red color from standing under the hot water for so long.
He gets dressed slowly, pulling on his boxers and his t-shirt. He doesn’t really feel like being even a little bit naked around Jeonghan right now. Despite his long shower he feels dirty, unclean. It doesn’t matter how hard he’s scrubbed his skin when the feeling comes from underneath it. He’s being stupid. He’s being selfish. He goes back into the room.
Upon entering, Mingyu finds that Jeonghan is already asleep, lying curled up under the covers.
He gets into bed as quietly as he can, and then… he finds himself lying face to face with Jeonghan. And he’s so pretty. It’s cruel, really, how pretty Jeonghan is. It’s not fair. As the storm inside Mingyu starts to stir back up he reaches out a hand and touches his cheek just… gently. Just softly. Carefully, like Jeonghan’s made of glass. How is he supposed to stop his hand from reaching out when he’s this close? When Jeonghan’s this pretty?
Mingyu lets his fingers push a stray strand of hair out of Jeonghan’s eyes. He lets his fingertips ghost over his cheek. Jeonghan’s skin is so soft. And he’s so, so pretty. It’s a different kind of pretty than usual. Jeonghan’s always pretty, at least to Mingyu, but something about this feels… special. He looks serene. He looks pretty. His hair isn’t done and he’s not wearing makeup– his guard is down. It’s a rare sight. Jeonghan usually keeps his walls pretty high, he wants to put his best face forward, but this– seeing him like this feels like stealing. Mingyu feels like he’s doing something he shouldn’t, seeing him like this, touching his skin… it’s like he’s desecrating something sacred. Something so beautiful wasn’t meant to be observed by someone like him.
But he can’t help himself. He can’t stop his hand from reaching out, nor his eyes to look away. He’s very weak, really, when it comes to Jeonghan. He’d given in far too easily when he’d asked to room with him. He shouldn’t have said yes. It was torturous being this close. Being this close to what you want and can’t have. Mingyu’s hand flattens against Jeonghan’s cheek, softly, like he’s cradling something more precious than gold.
Just this once, can’t he just pretend? Pretend that everything is alright– that when he touches Jeonghan it isn’t a sin? Although it is?
But Mingyu’s skin burns where it meets Jeonghan’s. It hurts to want something so bad that you lose self control. It hurts having to keep all these things unsaid, to tuck them under your tongue. There’s something in his throat that wants to get out and he won’t let it.
…
The next morning Mingyu wakes up with Jeonghan in his arms. He doesn’t know at what point during the night his body disobeyed his brain and pulled Jeonghan closer. Now he’s lying half way on top of Mingyu, his head resting on his chest and his right arm wrapped around Mingyu’s torso. Jeonghan’s body is warm and soft against Mingyu’s, it’s familiar, although it’s never happened before. It’s familiar like coming home.
Mingyu doesn’t know what to do– he knows what he should do, which is of course, let Jeonghan go. Untangle their legs and slip out of bed, take a cold shower and forget it ever happened. But he can’t seem to bring himself to do it. For a while he just lies there and looks at Jeonghan. He’s pretty. And it’s cruel.
Jeonghan is snoring ever so softly, meaning he’s likely still deep asleep, and so, despite his better instincts, Mingyu reaches a hand up and touches Jeonghan’s cheek, the bridge of his nose. He pushes the hair out of his face before he lets his fingers wander further– he’s so close. He’s so close, and he’s starting to learn he has very little control over his hands when it comes to Jeonghan. He wants to touch him, feel his skin, know every freckle.
And Mingyu doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance, so can’t he be a little selfish? Just this once? Touching Jeonghan without having to ask for it, without having to beg, without having to say anything at all. Mingyu just wants to know what it’s like, being close to him. Wants to remember. Although it hurts, although it makes him sick, he wants to remember.
He lets his fingertips brush over Jeonghan’s cheekbones, the curve of his jaw, the soft skin of his neck, the place where his spine meets the base of his skull. He smooths his thumb over his upper arm, lets his fingers dance across the expanse of his back, trying to count every freckle. Jeonghan’s back is a map of the universe– and all that Mingyu wants, all he’s ever wanted, all that he’ll ever want, is right here in his arms. And for a brief moment, barely a second, nothing but this exists. The world starts and ends with this. With them. He doesn’t think about what happens when Jeonghan opens his eyes, too lost in the feeling of finally holding him in his arms.
For a moment the overwhelming hurt of wanting something you can never have is dulled– for a moment he tricks himself into thinking he can have it.
But he can’t have it. Jeonghan starts to shift in his arms– he screws his eyes shut against the rays of sunlight falling on them through the curtains. He lets out a soft whine and buries his face in the crook of Mingyu’s neck, and Mingyu feels like he’s gonna pass out. His heart is somewhere in his throat.
“What time is it?” Jeonghan mumbles, breath tickling Mingyu’s neck as he speaks. Mingyu has to clench his jaw to suppress a shiver.
“No idea,” Mingyu replies, “Hyung, I–”
“Shut up,” Jeonghan grumbles, pulling himself closer to Mingyu, “don’t apologize. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I woke up earlier and we were like this then. I fell asleep again without moving away. Without letting you go. So don’t apologize.”
“Oh,” Mingyu says, unable to say anything else.
Jeonghan laughs lightly, shifting around again before settling, “you move around a lot in your sleep,” he says, “did you know that?”
“No,” Mingyu answers honestly, and he’s about to say something else– what he’d been thinking since last night, which is that Jeonghan looks pretty when he sleeps. But it wouldn’t be appropriate. That’s not something you tell your friend. So instead he says, “you snore.”
“I do not!” Jeonghan whines, slapping his chest with a laugh.
“Mhm,” Mingyu grins, relief washing over him like a bucket of cold water running down his back.
Clearly, Jeonghan was okay with this. He wasn’t repulsed by Mingyu, didn’t hate him, it was okay– they were okay. The joking was back, the lighthearted teasing, and they were fine. He didn’t like when it was quiet. The quiet gives him too much time to think about all the things he wants to say to Jeonghan, and how badly he wants to kiss him. And Mingyu wants to kiss Jeonghan really, really badly.
“Asshole,” Jeonghan murmurs, although Mingyu can feel him smiling against his skin.
It doesn’t take very long before Jeonghan’s drifting off to sleep again. Mingyu doesn’t sleep. He lies awake, indulging himself just this once. Reveling in Jeonghan’s presence. He tries to commit every part of this moment to memory, from the color of the sheets to the flowers on the wallpaper.
After a while his phone buzzes on the bedside table, and he picks it up to see a message from Seungcheol asking where they are.
He sighs, looking back at Jeonghan. He’s still fast asleep. And Mingyu doesn’t want to wake him up, doesn’t want the moment to end. This moment where they’re the only people in the world and nothing else matters, where they could be more– but they can’t. They can’t stay here, and they’ll never be anything but what they are. Whatever that is.
Mingyu wakes Jeonghan up, shaking him gently until his eyes blink open and he lets out a groan, mumbling something about not wanting to get up. It makes Mingyu’s heart ache in a strange way, because he wants the same, but not in the same way. Never in the same way. After some more complaining Jeonghan finally disentangles himself from Mingyu, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking back at him with an odd look. Mingyu can’t place the feeling in his eyes.
“Did you lie awake the whole time?” Jeonghan asks, voice oddly quiet, “if you wanted to get up you should’ve just told me.”
“No I–” Mingyu starts, shaking his head as he sits up next to Jeonghan, “I mean, I did lie awake. But I didn’t want to get up.”
Jeonghan looks at him for a few seconds before he nods, his expression slipping into an easy smile as he takes Mingyu’s hand and gives it a squeeze, “alright then, Mingyu. Let’s go.”
Mingyu nods vaguely and watches Jeonghan as he stands up and begins to change into a pair of sweats and a new t-shirt. It didn’t matter much what they wore on the way there since the stylists would supply them with clothing anyways. Mingyu shakes his head again, then gets up and starts to get dressed too. Once they’re both fully dressed they hurry out of the hotel room and down to the parking cellar, where the others have been waiting for them in the cars for some time, according to Seungcheol’s texts. They end up squeezed into the backseat of the smallest of the cars with Jihoon, while Minghao sits in the seat next to the driver.
Before long Jeonghan’s head has fallen onto Mingyu’s shoulder again, although Mingyu doesn’t think he’s asleep. His breathing is too fast, his muscles too tense. Instinctively, he takes Jeonghan’s hand, and the older reacts by intertwining their fingers and letting out a soft sigh, like it’s a relief to hold Mingyu’s hand. It makes Mingyu’s heart do weird things in his chest.
He’d like to be a relief to Jeonghan, some place he can go to feel at peace, safe. Mingyu wonders if he is. He wonders if Jeonghan sticks to him in public places because he makes him feel safe. It’s a silly thought, stupid, but it lingers in the back of his head the whole day.
When Jeonghan settles in next to him in on the couch in the waiting room and their knees touch, when he lets Mingyu’s clumsy hands fix the mic wire running down his back, when he stands next to him during an interview and lets his hand slide into Mingyu’s back pocket. When they’re waiting for their turn to shoot and Jeonghan stands very still in front of Mingyu as he lets him fix his hair– the top of Jeonghan’s head only barely reaches Mingyu’s nose, and so he’s the perfect height to help him smooth out the stray hairs.
He notices all of it, and stores every moment in the part of his brain that belongs to Jeonghan. On the way back to the hotel he and Jeonghan sit in the same car once more, and Minghao sits in the front seat– when their eyes meet in the car’s rear view mirror Minghao raises an eyebrow at him, looking between him and Jeonghan. Mingyu mouths ‘what?’, and Minghao just rolls his eyes, a sort of exasperated look on his face.
At around 5pm they’re back at the hotel, and the group naturally splits up, some to work out, some for an early dinner, while Mingyu really just wants to sleep. Jeonghan seems to feel the same, and soon they’re back in their hotel room. Mingyu kicks his shoes off and throws himself on the bed with sigh, running a hand over his tired face. He stares at the hand afterwards and groans– it’s covered in traces of makeup. He’ll have to get up and take it off. Before he can do this however, the bed dips beside him, and Jeonghan is… straddling him. What?
“Hyung?” Mingyu says, eyes widening as he stares up at Jeonghan who’s not even looking at him, instead looking for something in the bag in his hand. He’s got one knee planted on either side of Mingyu’s waist, keeping himself raised a few inches so he’s not actually straddling him, just hovering above him.
“Close your eyes,” Jeonghan says, and he pulls out a pack of makeup remover wipes and throws the bag on the floor, “I’ll help you get the makeup off.”
“You don’t–”
“I know I don’t have to, Mingyu,” he laughs, “I want to. Just lie still, alright?”
Mingyu nods, not daring to speak– he’s scared his voice will betray him if he tries. Afraid it’ll be as shaky as his hands are. Jeonghan on the other hand seems calm, he removes Mingyu’s make up with practiced ease. He presses the wipe to his eyelids and dissolves the eyeshadow before gently wiping it away, his fingers work deftly and gently, smoothing over Mingyu’s skin in languid movements.
As soon as he can Mingyu opens his eyes again just to look at Jeonghan, the slight furrow in his brow, how he bites his bottom lip. And Mingyu thinks Jeonghan might be trying to kill him. Once Jeonghan’s satisfied he’s gotten all the makeup off his face, he takes Mingyu’s hand and turns it so his palm is facing up, and very gently, he wipes the makeup off his fingers, one at a time.
“All done!” Jeonghan says happily, sliding off Mingyu and getting out of the bed, “I’m gonna take a quick shower, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh,” Mingyu says dumbly, still lying very still, “sure, hyung. Thanks for the… the help.”
“No need to thank me,” Jeonghan says, “I wanted to help.”
Mingyu doesn’t know what to say to this, so he doesn’t say anything. He watches Jeonghan’s back as he walks away and enters the bathroom. What the hell just happened? Mingyu’s eighty percent sure it was a fever dream, a hallucination, it doesn’t feel real. But his face is slightly damp from the makeup wipes and his hips warm where Jeonghan had just been. It had been real. Too real, almost.
When he stands up to change into more comfortable clothing his knees buckle underneath him. Once he’s back in bed he rolls onto his side, staring at the place where Jeonghan would soon lie. The bathroom door opens with a click, there’s some rustling of clothes, and then Jeonghan falls onto the bed next to him so that they’re lying face to face.
“Hey,” Jeonghan says quietly.
“Hyung,” Mingyu says, “I was gonna sleep for a bit before… dinner.”
“Mhm,” he hums, “me too.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Jeonghan says, and he pauses. Looks at Mingyu in a way that makes his heart do weird things in his chest. “Are you alright with this, Mingyu?”
“With what?”
“Sharing a bed with me.”
“Oh,” Mingyu says, “oh, yes. I… yes. I’m okay with it. It’s– it’s nice.”
“Then why are you so nervous? It’s just me, Mingyu,” he says, “it’s just us.”
“Well you–” Mingyu starts, stopping for a second to swallow roughly around the lump in his throat as Jeonghan continues to stare back at him. The look is making him feel dizzy, scrambling his thoughts and making it hard to speak. “You’re not just anyone and we– we’re not just–” he stops again, just before saying what he’s really thinking– we’re not just friends. The thought hits him like a train at full speed. He squeezes his eyes shut once before opening them again and continuing, “you’re not just anyone, hyung. You’re more than that. You’re not just anything you’re… everything.”
“Everything, huh?” Jeonghan whispers, smiling softly, “is that what you think of me, Mingyu?”
“Yes,” Mingyu replies, voice trembling, “yes, I… I guess it is.”
“You guess?”
“Yeah.”
“You should tell me,” Jeonghan says, even quieter now, “you should tell me when you’re sure. When you’re sure what you think about me, tell me.”
“Okay,” Mingyu says, but he doesn’t know why– he doesn’t feel okay with that at all. He has no idea what Jeonghan means, doesn’t understand, doesn’t know. “I will, hyung.”
Jeonghan nods and turns towards his bedside table, and he takes his watch off and puts it face down on the table. He puts his phone on airplane mode before turning back around.
“Why did you do that?” Mingyu asks, “I don’t have my phone on me right now. We’ll lose track of time.”
“Would that be so bad?” Jeonghan replies, “I don’t think it would. I don’t mind losing track of time if it’s with you. We can suspend time for a little, can’t we? Just for a little while. Just for a while, let’s not worry about time.”
Mingyu opens his mouth but he doesn’t know how to reply to this, so he closes it again. Jeonghan smiles softly again and then he pats Mingyu’s cheek, then he closes his eyes. For a few seconds Mingyu just stares at him blankly, until he can’t take it anymore and rolls onto his back.
He’s overwhelmed with the familiar feeling of stupidness, how he doesn’t know Jeonghan at all, not in any way that matters. Mingyu doesn’t understand Jeonghan, but he wants to understand him so badly. And he wants, of course, for Jeonghan to want to understand him. That may be what he wants most of all. To know that Jeonghan wants to know him, wants to understand him, and wants Mingyu to know him too.
And maybe that’s all love is, maybe it’s just about understanding, knowing. Being known. It’s both terrifying and the thing Mingyu wants more than anything.
When Mingyu wakes up again Jeonghan is gone. The room is empty, and when he checks his phone he sees it’s well past 10pm, and that he’s got about twenty unread messages. He unlocks his phone with a sigh, skimming through them– most of them are from their group chat, Seungcheol trying to coordinate dinner desperately, asking where Jeonghan and Mingyu are– Jeonghan replying. He left around an hour ago, apparently. It seems like it ended up being just him and Seungcheol. It makes Mingyu’s heart feel tight. He opens the messages from Minghao.
From Hao
9:24 need a drinking buddy, if ur up to it
9:24 i got a few bottles of wine from the restaurant
9:25 i’ll be in my room. 235.
Mingyu doesn’t bother replying in the groupchat, he just sends a quick message to Minghao and then he pulls a hoodie over his t-shirt and puts on a pair of free hotel slippers. A few minutes later he’s standing in front of Minghao’s door. He knocks.
“Have you been sleeping?” Minghao asks as he opens the door and lets him in.
“Yeah,” Mingyu replies, sitting down on the floor of Minghao’s hotel room where he’s laid out pillows and blankets. Minghao likes drinking on the floor. Mingyu does too.
“With Jeonghan?”
“Yes– I mean–” Mingyu coughs, “I mean, there’s only one bed. And we slept in it.”
“You’ve been a little on edge lately,” Minghao says, pouring him and Mingyu a glass of wine, “why?”
Mingyu takes the glass and stares into the dark red liquid, brows furrowed. He wants to tell Minghao. He really does. But he doesn’t know if he can, doesn’t know what would happen– the idea alone is terrifying.
“I’ve just been tired,” Mingyu says instead, “and I guess, I don’t know… I guess I’ve been a little on edge,” he finishes, shrugging for effect.
Minghao rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh, “you know you’re probably the worst liar I’ve ever met?”
“What?”
“Just–” Minghao starts, but as he looks at Mingyu he seems to change his mind, “no, nevermind.”
“What?” Mingyu asks again, and then, “don’t do that to me. You know what I’m like.”
“I know,” Minghao says, his expression grim, “I know what you’re like, Mingyu. Actually, I think I might know what you’re like more than you do. But it isn’t my place to tell you. Just, you know,” he pauses, “if you love someone, Mingyu, you should tell them.”
Mingyu blinks, “what are you talking about?”
“You know, Mingyu,” he says, his expression now softening, “and if you don’t, then you’ll figure it out. It’s not my place to tell you.”
“Fine,” Mingyu says, sighing.
He doesn’t want to fight Minghao on this. He knows. He knows well enough. Minghao doesn’t say anything else about it either, he just nods, and he takes another sip of his wine before changing the subject.
He starts telling Mingyu about some book he read, and the conversation naturally takes shape after that. They chat for quite some time, and manage to finish two bottles of wine between the two of them by the time it’s 2am. Minghao offers to let Mingyu stay the night– apparently Junhui had gone off with Wonwoo somewhere and wouldn’t be returning. But Mingyu says no. He’s not sure why.
When he gets back to his and Jeonghan’s hotel room he opens the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Jeonghan in case he was sleeping on the other side. But he isn’t. When the door opens Mingyu sees Jeonghan lying in bed, propped up against the headboard with his phone in his hand and the bedside light still on. He looks up as Mingyu enters.
“Hey,” he says, “have a nice night?”
“Yes,” Mingyu replies, kicking off his shoes and flopping onto the bed, “what about you? How was– how was Seungcheol hyung?”
“Fine,” Jeonghan says, smiling ever so slightly, “why?”
Mingyu shrugs, not wanting to answer– he’s realizing the alcohol has made him a little too bold. He’s quiet for a few seconds before instead asking, “why are you still up, hyung? It’s late.”
“I waited up for you.”
“You waited up for me?”
“Yes,” he says, like this was a normal thing to do.
“Why?” Mingyu asks, “you didn’t have to.”
“I know,” Jeonghan replies, “I wanted to. I wanted to see your face before I fell asleep.”
“Oh,” Mingyu says, eyes following Jeonghan’s movements as he puts his phone away and lies down on his side, facing Mingyu, “I… I wanted you to be awake.”
“You’re drunk,” Jeonghan says.
“Yes,” Mingyu says, because he knows– but it’s not that. He feels perfectly clear headed at this moment, looking at Jeonghan. He reaches out and puts a hand on Jeonghan’s face, and the older boy’s jaw tenses up. His face is so small in Mingyu’s hands. And his hand softens against his cheek, hoping the sincerity gets through to him. Right now it seems very important to him that it does. “I wanted you to be awake. And I wanted… to fall asleep next to you. Minghao offered to let me stay in his room but I wanted to come back here. So I did. I didn’t have to, but I did.”
“I see,” Jeonghan whispers, “what else do you want?”
Mingyu blinks, staring back at Jeonghan, and the boldness the alcohol had just given him disappears like dust in the wind. Reality hits him like a punch to the gut. He’s scared, suddenly, of the conversation, the turns it’s taking, where it’s taking them– it’s his fault. He’s being stupid again. Selfish.
“I don’t know,” Mingyu says, then pauses. He closes his mouth and looks at Jeonghan, who looks back at him, and why is he looking at him like that? It should be illegal to look at someone like that unless you want to kiss them. It’s unfair. Cruel. Jeonghan’s looking at Mingyu in a way that makes the little voice in his head go crazy– go for it, it tells him, kiss him. It’s lying. Mingyu swallows roughly and lets out a sigh before letting go off Jeonghan’s face and saying, “I don’t know.”
“Oh,” Jeonghan says, and he looks so sad, and Mingyu doesn’t understand why, “oh, well, you know… if you figure it out, you should tell me. You should tell me what you want, Mingyu. When you know.”
“I– Okay,” Mingyu says, and every part of him is burning with the need to just… hold Jeonghan. Just this once. He can’t say no to him, not ever. So even if he doesn’t understand, even if he doesn’t know, he agrees. He promises.
Jeonghan turns around and turns off the light. He doesn’t turn back around. Mingyu wants so badly to reach out and touch him. He doesn’t.
…
When Mingyu wakes up the next morning his arms are wrapped tightly around Jeonghan’s waist, his smaller frame completely enveloped in Mingyu’s much larger one– they fit together so well. Snugly, like they’d been carved out of the same piece of wood. Mingyu’s cheek is pressed to the top of Jeonghan’s head, their fingers intertwined.
He doesn’t know how they’ve ended up like this again, and he hates that they have– it hurts. It hurts to hold him. It hurts not to. And he hates his body for doing this to him. He hates himself for not being able to control it, hates himself for taking and taking and taking.
He’s being selfish. He lets go. Jeonghan seems to be asleep, but Mingyu isn’t sure, and he tries to convince himself he doesn’t care. He gets in the shower, hoping the hot water will sear the dirty feeling off his skin. It doesn’t. When Mingyu gets out Jeonghan’s sitting up in bed, phone in his hand. He doesn’t look up.
“Hyung,” Mingyu says. Stupid thing to say.
“Mingyu,” Jeonghan replies, looking up now, “sleep well?”
“Yeah,” Mingyu mumbles, unable to meet his eyes, “yeah I slept… I slept fine.”
“You really are an awful liar, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“It’s alright,” Jeonghan says, quietly. He pauses for a brief moment before he speaks again, “I think it’s better to be a bad liar than a good one. I’m a good liar, Mingyu. I wish I wasn’t.”
“Hyung–”
At this moment someone knocks on the door. Mingyu’s mouth hangs open, but he finds himself unable to go on. He doesn’t know where to go. He bites his tongue and turns around, walking to the door and opening it. Seungcheol’s standing on the other side, luggage in hand.
“What are you guys doing?” he asks, “we’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
After ten minutes of mildly panicked packing, running down the halls of the hotel, and quickly handing in their keycards, Mingyu finds himself in a car on the way to the airport. Jeonghan isn’t next to him.
He isn’t even in the same car as him. And it had been on purpose, too. He’d seen Jeonghan see the car with two empty seats in the back and pick the other car. And Mingyu feels alone, even in a car full of people, it feels empty. It feels odd that there’s no longer a thigh pressed against his own or a head resting on his shoulder. It’d only been a weekend, but still, having been so close to Jeonghan for days in a row has left Mingyu used to his presence.
And so the absence of it is all the more noticeable. There’s a dull throbbing ache below his ribs that won’t go away. Like some vital organ is missing. Whether it’s on purpose or not Mingyu isn’t sure, but the rest of the day is much the same. Jeonghan ends up several rows ahead of him on the plane, he takes another car back to the dorm from the airport.
Once they’re back at the dorm he goes straight to his room, without even looking at Mingyu. But Mingyu is the same. He goes to his room and falls onto the bed, and he tries to fall asleep, with little success.
He tries for hours, twisting and turning in bed as he tries desperately to get comfortable, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works. He just lies in his bed staring up at the ceiling, praying it’ll take mercy and fall down on him. When he checks his phone he sees he’s been lying awake for a couple of hours already, although it’s still only around 9pm. With a sigh, he gives up on trying to sleep and goes into the kitchen to make himself something to eat. When he opens the door he sees Jeonghan sitting at the kitchen island.
“Oh,” he says, “hyung…”
“Mingyu,” Jeonghan says, “I’ll leave. I’m finished eating anyways.”
“No you don’t– you don’t have to leave, hyung,” Mingyu says, his voice teetering on the edge of being desperate, “it’s fine.”
“I’m tired,” Jeonghan replies, “and I know I don’t have to.”
“Then why–”
“Goodnight, Mingyu,” Jeonghan interrupts, and he smiles, despite the sad look in his eyes.
Mingyu is left unable to say anything. He just stands there like an idiot and watches Jeonghan walk out.
It hurts. And the encounter made him lose any kind of appetite he once had, so he just goes back to his room and curls up under the covers, staring at the wall. He doesn’t manage to sleep more than a few minutes that night, but luckily they have a day off before schedules start back up.
When the sun rises and Mingyu hears the sound of the other members getting out of bed, taking showers, making food, he just pulls his covers up higher, covering his ears. He has no intention of leaving his room for the rest of the day. What he wants is to just lay here, for no one to look at him, and to not look at anyone.
His long running habit of trying to keep things secret is finally catching up to him, like a wildfire sweeping through a forest, and it’s left him feeling like a burn victim; over-sensitive, as if missing several layers of protective skin, and terrified of mirrors.
He rolls onto his back again and stares up at the ceiling, and he tries not to think about Jeonghan, but it’s easier said than done– Jeonghan is all he can think about. Even when he tries to empty his mind with the meditation advice Minghao had given him once, Jeonghan is there, in the edges of his vision and the corners of his mind. Lingering, everpresent.
And all Mingyu wants, despite pretenses, is to have Jeonghan next to him again. Wants to grab his face and kiss him, wants to shout from the rooftops that he loves him, because god, Mingyu loves Jeonghan so much he’s starting to think it’s going to kill him soon. And Mingyu wants to tell Jeonghan, wants to tell him every stupid thought he’s ever had about him, the dreams where they kiss and live in a little house in the countryside with a couple of dogs and a cat, the ones where Jeonghan stays and the ones where he leaves. All of it.
He wants Jeonghan to ask. He wants him to want to know.
There is another truth, of course. One that Jeonghan is well aware of. Mingyu is a bad liar. He’s a bad liar, laying them down like bricks as he builds a wall around himself, the wall unsteady and fragile. It’d only take a strong gust of wind for it to fall over and bury him. He’s been trying to keep this ugly and wretched thing inside him for so long that it’s begun to fester, like an infected wound. It’s starting to spread. He’s beginning to feel sick. With want, or love, or something else.
…
The next day they end up spending almost 14 hours practicing in one of HYBE’s practice rooms. Mingyu had forgotten how rough it could get prepping for a world tour. Now he’s lying flat on his back in the middle of the practice room– he’d lost the game, and therefore had to clean the place up. Now he was too tired to move. The quiet is suddenly broken by the sound of the door opening and then sneakers walking across the hardwood floor, then someone is blocking the fluorescent lights. Mingyu opens his eyes.
“Hyung?” He says, unable to hide his surprise.
“Hey,” Jeonghan says, a tentative smile on his face. He looks unsure of himself, which is unusual. Disconcerting, even. Jeonghan always seems so sure.
“Why haven’t you gone back to the dorm?” Mingyu asks.
“I had some stuff to do before heading back,” Jeonghan replies– it’s a lie. Mingyu knows, because he’d been talking about how he was looking forward to going home directly after practice in the car on the way over here. He doesn’t point it out, however. He just lets Jeonghan continue. “And I thought I’d see if you were still here.”
“Why?” Mingyu asks, “you didn’t have to.”
“Why do you always say it like that, Mingyu? Like you’re an inconvenience?”
“I don’t know,” Mingyu says earnestly, “I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Well, you’re not. Not to me. If I didn’t want to do things for you I just wouldn’t. I only–” Jeonghan stops abruptly, as if realizing half way through that he’s saying too much. He goes quiet.
Mingyu doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything– he starts to get up, and Jeonghan lifts his arm slightly, like he’s about to offer him his hand, but then it falls back to his side. Like he’d done it on instinct and regretted it. Mingyu tries not to think about it.
On the way out of the building Jeonghan avoids Mingyu’s eyes. Outside, one of their managers pulls up and they get into the car. For a long time no one says anything. The manager puts on the radio and some song Mingyu doesn’t know starts playing– Jeonghan’s staring out of the window pensively, and at some point he starts to pick at his nail beds. Without thinking Mingyu takes Jeonghan’s hands in his own, and Jeonghan’s head whips around to stare at him, looking startled. Like he’d forgotten Mingyu was in the car with him.
“What?” He asks.
“You were picking at your nails,” Mingyu mumbles, a little sheepish. He hadn’t needed to grab Jeonghan’s hand but he’d done it anyway. “you… I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
He lets go of Jeonghan’s hands, and the other boy retracts them, flexing his fingers like they’re suddenly unfamiliar and strange to him.
“I don’t get you, Mingyu,” Jeonghan says, “I really don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t make me say it out loud, Mingyu,” Jeonghan mutters, “that’d just be cruel.”
Mingyu stares at Jeonghan unblinkingly, mouth opening and closing stupidly as he tries to think of something to say. Anything.
But before he can, the car pulls to a stop and the manager says something Mingyu doesn’t hear, and the door opens, and the conversation seems to be over– Jeonghan gets out of the car without a word, and all Mingyu can do is follow after him. He tries to think of something to say, tries, but fails. He doesn’t know. When they get to the dorm Jeonghan disappears off to his room without even looking at him. Mingyu goes to his own room and lays down on his bed. His fingers feel numb and his chest tight.
Cruel.
That’s what Jeonghan had said. Cruel. Mingyu feels stupider than ever. And he wishes more than ever that he could read minds, that he could just look at Jeonghan and know, without having to ask, what he was thinking. But he never does. He never knows. He doesn’t know why Jeonghan looked so sad that morning in the hotel, or why he’d left him alone in the kitchen when any other day he would’ve stayed. He doesn’t know. Or he isn’t sure.
He’s not sure why Jeonghan said the things he did in that hotel room, in the practice room, or in the car.
With a groan Mingyu gets out of bed again– he knows he won’t get any sleep, so what’s the point in trying? He pulls on some clothes and a pair of shoes, and leaves the building to go for a walk.
He stands on the sidewalk for a few moments, letting the cool air fill up his lungs as he takes a deep breath, breathing through his nose. Then he makes a right, walking aimlessly down the street, not caring much about the direction. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but something about that is comforting. He just switches his brain off and lets his feet carry him anywhere they want.
Eventually he makes it to a small park, where he finds a bench. He sits down with a heavy sigh, his head falling back so he can look up at the stars. Only a few are visible, most of them covered by clouds. The air is slightly damp against his skin, and he thinks it might start raining soon.
He wouldn’t mind all that much. Maybe if he sat here and let the rain wash over him for an hour or two he’d finally feel clean. Because Mingyu hasn’t felt clean for a long time. He barely remembers it, but he thinks it must’ve been before he realized he had feelings for Jeonghan. Since that moment he’s felt dirty, unclean, like something evil. Frayed at the edges and rough to the touch.
There’s nothing more embarrassing to Mingyu than the size of his own wanting. The act of wanting Jeonghan in itself feels punishable– it’s selfish. And it fills up every part of Mingyu to the point where it makes him feel like he can’t breathe. Mingyu is selfish for wanting Jeonghan, for wanting to hold him, kiss him, love him.
A particularly cold breeze hits Mingyu and he shivers, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. He wonders if Jeonghan is sleeping. He probably is. Or maybe… he’s not. He’d seemed upset in the car. Upset with Mingyu. Cruel, is what he’d called him. Cruel… the word is bitter in Mingyu’s mouth.
Some small part of him wants to call Jeonghan cruel– he’s the one who’s been making Mingyu’s head spin, who flirts, but then… Mingyu isn’t even sure if he means to. Doesn’t know if Jeonghan even thinks of it as flirting to begin with. So is it fair for Mingyu to deem him cruel? When he’s the one who went and fell in love with him? Jeonghan didn’t make him fall for him on purpose. He was just being himself. Mingyu’s the idiot who fell in love with him.
Then, Mingyu thinks of this weekend.
He thinks about the hotel room and the bed, falling asleep next to Jeonghan only to wake up holding him, letting Mingyu hold him. He thinks about Jeonghan, and his soft hands, smooth skin, and his hair that always smells nice. He thinks about Jeonghan, and the promises he’d made him make– when you’re sure what you think about me, tell me. You should tell me what you want, Mingyu.
It’s ironic, really. Mingyu knows what he thinks about Jeonghan, and he knows what he wants.
The thing stopping him from telling Jeonghan isn’t that he isn’t sure about how he feels, it’s that he doesn’t know if Jeonghan will like the truth. Because the truth is ugly, it’s a secret that’s been buried so deep within him that it’s as much a part of him as his lungs.
The truth is that Mingyu’s been in love with Jeonghan for years, and that to Mingyu, Jeonghan has never been just a friend. He’s never been just a friend, but he hasn’t been anything else either. With a sigh, Mingyu gets off the bench. He can see the light of a soon to rise sun on the horizon, and knows he should get back. Pulling out his phone, he sees a couple of missed texts in the groupchat, which he ignores. He opens up the map and finds a route home.
Far too soon he’s back in front of the dorm. Mingyu doesn’t want to go back in, he doesn’t want to face any of them.
He feels like if he does all the things he’s thought about might just come spilling out, without him meaning for them to do so. His eyes travel up the building– there’s a light on in their dorm. Someone must’ve forgotten to turn it off before bed. Or maybe Jihoon’s just made it home.
His gaze travels further upwards, and he sees someone standing on the rooftop, leaning against the railing.
It only takes a few seconds before he recognizes the figure– it’s Jeonghan, there’s no doubt about it. That’s his hair blowing in the wind, his slim frame obscured by a hoodie. Mingyu wonders, briefly, why he’s up so late. Or up so early.
Then he remembers their strange conversation in the car, and he thinks he knows the answer. A shiver runs down Mingyu’s back and he realizes that Jeonghan’s head is now bent forwards, his face illuminated by the rising sun. He gets the feeling Jeonghan’s staring directly at him. And despite knowing it’s a stupid, stupid thing to do, Mingyu goes into the building and he takes the elevator to the top floor, and he walks down the hallway to the stairs, and very soon he’s standing in front of the door that leads onto the roof.
He stands here for a while, breathing heavily. It’s then that he realizes, quite suddenly, that if he opens this door he might die. There might be no floor to catch him on the other side, should he dare to step through it. If he goes out there he’ll have to tell Jeonghan. There was no way around it. He’d be forced to confront it.
Mingyu opens the door. Jeonghan is still standing at the railing, although he’s turned around to face the door– like he expected Mingyu would come up here. He’s got a cigarette in his left hand, his eyes locked onto Mingyu. There’s an emotion in Jeonghan’s eyes that Mingyu doesn’t know the name of.
“Where have you been?” Jeonghan asks.
“I uh,” Mingyu starts, closing the door behind him but not stepping any closer– he’s scared. He was scared before, but seeing Jeonghan right in front of him, it’s so hard to hold it in that it makes him feel sick. “I went for a walk.”
“I see,” he says, letting the cigarette fall to the floor and stepping on it, “in the middle of the night?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me neither.”
“When did you start smoking again?” Mingyu asks.
“Tonight,” Jeonghan replies, pausing before saying, “I couldn’t sleep.”
Mingyu swallows, and starts to fiddle with the ends of his sleeves. And as he looks at Jeonghan, he realizes, with the same sensation as someone punching you in the gut, that Jeonghan is wearing one of his, Mingyu’s, hoodies. He doesn’t know what to do with that. It was a sort of unspoken rule between the two of them that they were free to knick whatever they wanted from each other’s room, unless the other one discovered it. And now he was… wearing it. Even after everything.
“Hyung,” Mingyu says, “what were you gonna tell me in the car?”
Jeonghan grimaces, folding his arms across his chest– Mingyu notes how his hoodie is so big on him that his hands are completely hidden in the sleeves.
“I thought I asked you not to be cruel.”
“You said I knew what you were going to say,” Mingyu replies, “you said I knew but I didn’t. I still don’t. I wouldn’t ask if I knew, hyung.”
“When we… when we were at the hotel,” Jeonghan says, taking a few steps closer to Mingyu– There’s something accusatory in his stare. “Why did you grab my face like that? Like you were going to kiss me?”
“I– because I–” Mingyu starts, but he tumbles over the words, his head spinning as he tries to figure out what Jeonghan means, what he’s thinking. “I… You knew?”
“Knew? No I didn’t… know. I don’t know. I thought you were going to kiss me. But then you didn’t,” there’s a pause after this, where Jeonghan wraps his arms tighter around himself, sucking in a deep breath before saying, “I wanted you to kiss me, Mingyu.”
“Wh– What?”
“I thought you knew too,” Jeonghan says, and he gets closer to Mingyu– so close now that he’d just have to reach out a hand to touch him. Mingyu backs away, scared– doesn’t know if he could feel his touch without imploding. “I thought I’d made it obvious how I felt about you, Mingyu. Evidently I was wrong.”
“I don’t… you… feel things? About me?”
“I feel a lot of things about you.”
“I know that. But I thought they were all feelings of… of friendship,” Mingyu says, looking down at Jeonghan, “are they?”
“Friendship?” Jeonghan asks, tilting his head to one side, “no. No, we’ve never been friends, Mingyu. At least not… really. We’ve never been just friends. But we haven’t been anything else either.”
Something strange happens inside Mingyu. It’s like something inside him is unraveling like a spool of yarn. And there’s… relief. Like some discomfort or unease he’s had for a long time is suddenly gone. He’s not crazy. He hasn’t been imagining things. But he’s still not… sure.
“How was I supposed to know, hyung?” Mingyu whispers, “I… I wanted to kiss you too. But I didn’t know I could. How was I… How could I have known, hyung? How could I have known if you didn’t tell me? When you… When you treat me like you treat everyone else?”
Jeonghan’s eyes soften, his arms that had been wrapped so tightly around himself finally falling to his sides as he steps closer to Mingyu, “I don’t. You’ve always been special, Mingyu, but I’m starting to realize you don’t believe you are.”
“You never said anything,” Mingyu says, his voice growing increasingly desperate– he doesn’t know how to convey everything that’s going on inside him to Jeonghan, just wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and scream, anything to make him understand. “I’ve felt so stupid. So stupid, because everytime you did something– when you held my hand or… or fell asleep with your head on my shoulder, I’d get this feeling of hope. That maybe… just maybe you could like me back. Maybe I had a chance. But then you went and did the same with somebody else and then–”
“Mingyu,” Jeonghan interrupts, and he takes Mingyu’s face in his hands– Mingyu hadn’t even realized they’d gotten this close to each other. They’re nearly standing chest to chest now. “Oh, Mingyu. You… you’re not stupid. You’re not. It was all special. But it wasn’t… It wasn’t the action in itself that was special. It was special because it was you. Because it was with you. Because you’re special. And you should know I’ve never slept better than I did when you held me. And that… No one else has ever held me like that. Just you,” he pauses, his thumb rubbing across Mingyu’s cheekbone, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner. From now on I’ll make sure to tell you all the time,” another pause. A deep breath. “that… I like you. That I’m in love with you.”
“In love… with me?” Mingyu mumbles, the words strange and unfamiliar on his tongue, the feeling of Jeonghan’s palm against his cheek making his head feel hazy, “me? You… like me?”
“I like you a lot,” Jeonghan says, a soft smile on his face now as one of his hands moves to the back of Mingyu’s neck, reassuring fingers pressing into his skin and threading through his hair.
“Hyung,” he whispers, “Jeonghan hyung.”
“Yeah,” he replies, “I’m right here, Mingyu.”
“Could I really– can I really kiss you? Am I… allowed? Am I allowed to touch you like that?”
“Yes,” Jeonghan says, “but… No, let me kiss you. Let me kiss you first. All I’ve done these past years is hold back, but all that’s done is make you think you mean less to me than you do. When the truth is you mean more to me than anyone.”
Mingyu nods– it’s all he can do. He’s quite sure that if he tried to speak now nothing would come out. His throat has closed up, and his mouth feels dry. The sincerity in Jeonghan’s voice, in his eyes, the earnest and plain confession Mingyu had longed to hear for so long. It’s all finally starting to sink in. Jeonghan uses the hand he’s got on the back of Mingyu’s head to pull his face closer, and their noses brush, their foreheads resting against each other as they breathe each other in. Jeonghan’s breath smells like cigarettes and toothpaste. Mingyu’s going to remember this for the rest of his life. He lets Jeonghan move him around, his larger form melting and molding around Jeonghan’s.
And then, the whole world goes quiet. Everything but Jeonghan melts away, and all that Mingyu can see or hear or feel is what’s right in front of him; Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan. Jeonghan tilts his head forward and stands on his tiptoes to close the gap between. It’s soft at first– gentle. Careful, almost. Like they’re testing the water before diving in. But Mingyu wants to drown. He wants to get so close to Jeonghan they become one person. So he pulls Jeonghan closer, and he responds in kind, fingers slipping into Mingyu’s hair and pulling his head down while Mingyu cranes his neck, anything to get in deeper, to get closer, he becomes soft and malleable in Jeonghan’s hands, his body wrapping around Jeonghan. Mingyu thinks he might’ve been made to kiss Jeonghan. He can’t imagine ever doing anything else. He just wants this, forever.
“Mingyu,” Jeonghan mumbles, not breaking the kiss but instead speaking it into Mingyu’s slightly parted lips, “Mingyu.”
“Hyung?” Mingyu murmurs, pulling away just a little– just enough so that their lips still brush when either of them speak.
“You’re still shaking,” he whispers, delicate fingertips pressing into the skin on the back of Mingyu’s neck, “why are you shaking? It’s just me. It’s just me, Mingyu.”
“It’s because it’s you,” Mingyu replies, lifting a hand to cup Jeonghan’s cheek, “you… I like you too, you should know. I’m in love with you, hyung. I didn’t say it before. But I do. I like you so much. And I’ve spent so long wanting you in silence. Thinking you didn’t want me back. So it’s… it’s a little overwhelming. All of this. All I’ve wanted… for so long, all I wanted was to hear you say it.”
“I like you,” Jeonghan says, smiling, “I’ll say it in every language I know. I’ll learn new languages just to tell you. I’ll invent a language just for us, just to tell you. Just to tell you that I like you, Mingyu.”
“Say it again,” Mingyu says, “I… say it again.”
“I like you,” Jeonghan repeats, smile broadening, “I like you, I like you, I like you.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“Please.”
He kisses Jeonghan again, just briefly, before pulling away. Jeonghan whines, pulling Mingyu’s face back down to kiss him again– and again. And again. At some point Mingyu pulls away, only to press a kiss to the side of Jeonghan’s mouth– then his forehead, then his nose. Then he just looks at Jeonghan for a while. And then,
“I want to fall asleep next to you again, hyung,” Mingyu says, “I want to spend time with you and… kiss you. But most of all I just want to exist next to you. I want to take up your time, I want to occupy a space in your life. Preferably a space next to you. Can I do that?”
“Yes,” Jeonghan says, “I like you, Mingyu, and I want you next to me.”
They kiss again, a little harder this time– a kiss that expresses a multitude of things. Relief. The relief of finally being in the arms of the person you love and knowing they love you too.