BREAKING NEWS: Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu to lead acclaimed Director Jung Hyemi’s final installment of “Heavenly”.

PEC (Pledis Entertainment Company) had announced yesterday that their top stars, Kim Mingyu and Jeon Wonwoo, had been casted and will be starring in the third, and final, movie of the “Heavenly” films. The film will be under the direction of multi-award Director Jung Hyemi who upholds the reputation of creating the most moving stories of melancholy. The production as a whole would be carried by PEC’s own president, Jeon Taehan. Filming is set to begin early next month. As of now, no further information about the movie has been released, however it is speculated that the director is set to try a different approach for the final entry to the well-renowned film collection.

Comments:

[+8902, -156] what. the. shit. this is unreal.

[+12495, -8334] EWW. Don’t tell me Mingyu oppa is being forced to work with that big-headed Jeon Wonwoo. Poor oppa~

↩ [+5604, -3042] if ANYTHING, Wonwoo oppa’s probably the one being forced. WHY in the world would a highly seasoned actor like him pair with your pretty boy? Smh.

↩ [+395, -68] For your information, since ur such an uncultured swine, Mingyu oppa isn’t simply a “pretty boy”. He’s talented. U wish your Wonwoo oPpARRRR was half as talented as he is. Plus, Mingyu oppa isn’t a newbie, idiot.

↩ [+49, -23] whatever. Wonwoo oppa is still the BEST actor out of the two.

[+23504, -435] the immature fans really out here being pressed. like, why can’t y’all appreciate that THE jeon Wonwoo and THE kim mingyu are starring TOGETHER in a full ass movie?! like, this is an event for the CENTURIES people!!!

[+1342, -405] I know they hate each other and all but… *whispers* I’ve always shipped them.

↩ [+503, -140] *whispers* they were always the endgame.

Seungkwan doesn’t know whether he should be happy with the comments he’s reading or not. There are too much mixed nuts in the package that even he, someone who’s been shimmying it up in the entertainment industry, couldn’t properly sort his thoughts as he and his talent trudge through the walls of Pledis Ent. Though, he figures it’s good PR for the movie since people seem to be really hyped up by the news; it would probably translate well for future publicity — what with Wonwoo and Mingyu in the headlines.

He’s beyond being simply filled with nerves. He wishes he isn’t, but talking to the Big Boss himself isn’t exactly quite the same s talking to his representative. While Seungcheol — the president’s right hand man who mostly deals with talking to managers and relaying promotional plans — is a stern, quite easy to gauge man, President Jeon is a different breed of eccentric (well, in his opinion).

Seungkwan doesn’t exactly know how to deal with his perpetually friendly personality, even when he’s been employed for three good years now. Sometimes he thinks behind the President’s smile are beady eyes crawling up and down his body, constantly scrutinizing his every move and evaluating his skillset as a manager. And that, frankly, makes him shudder. However, it could simply be his pre-dispositioned awkwardness towards talking to such a big figure in the industry. After all, President Jeon is one of the most powerful names in the field of entertainment.

It’s too daunting, man, he internally sighs, looking over to Mingyu who had taken to walking a couple steps ahead of him.

The man doesn’t seem to share his personal horror, that he knows.

It slightly puzzles Seungkwan how there’s a little bounce to his steps when they’re possibly walking towards their doom — how he seems jittery in an almost good way; positive, even. It’s only sometimes that Mingyu has that kind of energy around him, and with the onset of preparations for the movie, it hasn’t seem to have ebbed away.

Somehow, Seungkwan finds it a little weird how he hasn’t had his mood severely dampened when he’s starring in a movie with his supposed nemesis in the entertainment biz; Jeon Wonwoo, son of the one and only president of PEC. Who, by no stretch of a limb, is probably one of the most beautifully perplexing people in the industry.

He isn’t kidding; the star gives him mixed signals. He’s awfully kind, that Seungkwan knows about since he’d gotten help from him one too many times, however he could be really passive when it came to Mingyu. Albeit, he can’t say he could blame the man; Mingyu is equally just as passive towards him, if not more.

Seungkwan thinks he’s been like so since maybe five years back, way back before he started working for Mingyu, when both were still teen stars, famous on their own right. He doesn’t actually remember what started what, but he thinks it could have begun when Wonwoo wrote some passive comment on his official SNS, quite evidently poking at Mingyu’s then rumored relationship with another starlet.

Ever since then, they’ve—

“Wan, we’re here.” Mingyu’s words pull him out of his trance, and Seungkwan blinks far too many times at the door that separates the two of them from the eccentric president. He becomes slightly less nerved as he looks to Mingyu, the beaming smile on his face something soothing to his building stress.

For a moment, he regains his confidence while he pockets his phone.

“Let’s kill this.”

—

The meeting goes fairly well in Seungkwan’s opinion, since it became somewhat more of an informal talk regarding matters on the production, PR, and some other unrelated things, as the minutes ticked by. Save for the fact that Jeon Wonwoo was in the same vicinity, the weirdly amicable atmosphere between him and Mingyu was something Seungkwan would take over anything any other day.

Though when, in the tail end of their meet, the president asks if he could speak privately speak to both his son and Mingyu, Seungkwan couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive as he slipped out of the room with Wonwoo’s manager, Hansol, to carry on with his duties.

However the smile Mingyu graces him when he peeks in one last time assures him he would be alright.

—————

“Sir—” Mingyu breathes, his hand automatically darting to Wonwoo’s own which the other gladly accepts “—Thank you for giving me this chance.” He even bows to show his sincerity for the matter.

Albeit Mingyu knowing it’s okay not to, what with his current standing with the smiling man before him — how far he’s come with Wonwoo’s father, in earning his absolute trust — he feels oddly sentimental at the moment; it’s like he’s back to square one while feeling not, all in the same breath.

He figures it’s from the slight jitters he feels for the upcoming reveal of his and Wonwoo’s relationship; it’s been withheld for too long, after all, now that he thinks about it.

“Yah. I’ve been telling you to call me ‘Dad’ when we’re in private spaces.” The older man waves a dismissive hand, chuckling at nothing in particular.

His eyes bear on the intertwined hands of his son and Mingyu, though there’s no danger on them, just a thoughtful look; all pensive, wise, and caring. It’s completely unlike when he first met him as Wonwoo’s partner, Mingyu notes. He swears, the look on the man’s face when Wonwoo first accidentally introduced him as his boyfriend was enough to kill a raging lion.

He shudders at the memory.

“What with your guys’ plans, you can finally make the world know you’re the Jeon Taehan’s future son-in-law. Has a nice ring to it.” A proud smile blooms on his face as he slaps a hand over his chest. He looks undeniably giddy, happy as if he’d presented his most prized possession to the world, unlike the stern CEO act he puts when he’s with business associates.

With all that, although a little funny show of eccentricity, Mingyu’s assure he’s done good; that he’s deserving of Wonwoo and everything that comes with him.

He smiles, looking to his lover who grins softly at him, foxy eyes, rosy lips and everything in between sitting beautifully on his face. Mingyu feels his heart race, and he thinks, briefly, if it’s normal for a twenty-five year old man like him to still be getting those juvenile butterflies every time the other looks like that.

He tightens his hold when Wonwoo bumps him on the shoulder, an amused look on him, all encapsulated in a breathtaking, shit-eating grin; like he knows how Mingyu feels — like he knows how hot and full he makes Mingyu’s heart.

Turning back to the older Jeon, Mingyu tries to will away the flush forming on his face, embarrassed at how possibly boy-ish he could be looking at the moment. “I’m honored, Dad,” he admits, and it’s truly what he feels inside, bowing once more before flashing a snort upon seeing how ironically comical the president looks with his hand still on his chest.

“Though, I think you should tone it down with all that since Seungkwan seems a little scared of you.” He makes a brief gesture, as to which the older man blinks at with a slight huff before he finally straightens himself up.

He’d never commented on it to his manager, but he’d actually noticed in quite a number of occasions how he always seemed like he was walking on eggshells when talking to the president.

Wonwoo chuckles, the shake of his body felt by Mingyu through the relatively thick fabric of his white shirt, bending slightly over when he gets a little too giddy. He thinks it’s cute how Wonwoo does that, and files the memory in the big box he’s allotted for the man beside him.

“Honestly, Dad. You’re so embarrassing sometimes,” Wonwoo snorts, laughing without malice at how his father crosses his arms over his chest, a feigned look of disgust on his face as he beads his eyes at them.

“Aww, stop it you two.” He huffs, closing the gap between the three of them. Quickly, the expression is wiped off his face in favor of plastering a wide grin. His eyes flit over the two men before him, and Mingyu notices the way how they glisten under the uniform illumination casted from the light coming from behind, streaming in through huge glass panes and bouncing on equally large white walls.

“But, you boys—” he sniffs, both hands coming up to gently pat Wonwoo’s and Mingyu’s arms at the same time “—I’m proud of you both, regardless how long it took for you both to be ready for this.”

Mingyu had never pegged for Jeon Taehan to be an emotional, or particularly friendly, man given how he’d been too stiff, even during their first meeting after being recruited to join the company. However, throughout the seven — nearing eight — years he’s been with Wonwoo as his lover, he’d learned a great deal of how the Jeon family actually is behind all the glitz and glamour: warm and homey, like a beautiful cabin hidden in an enchanted forest.

Wonwoo simply bursts out laughing beside him, although Mingyu could well hear a certain wetness when he breathes through his nose. In a beat, he’s pulling his dad for a hug, then wiping his tears the next.

“Dad! We’re not getting married yet; don’t cry,” he says, a beautiful rosy smile stretched on his face, a similar glisten in his eyes when he casts a brief glance at Mingyu, presumably asking for help. “But thank you.”

Scooting nearer, Mingyu pats his second father’s back, nothing short of being amused when the older man says, “Your mom’s gonna be mad at me for not being included in this moment. You both know how she loves drama.”

“Dad,” Wonwoo drawls.

Mingyu can do nothing but gawk at him with the biggest lopsided grin, enamored by truly how perfect the love of his life is; that and how cute he’s being with his father. “Aww, come on. Stop being so adorable,” he says a moment later, when the father-son duo calms down, bringing up a hand to softly pinch Wonwoo’s cheek.

The other glares at him, but otherwise still scoots close to his side. Snaking his arm around Mingyu’s waist then having his hand settle comfortably on his hip. He looks to him. Then he scrunches his nose, pouting a little while he does so. “This is so not my image.”

Mingyu fights the urge to coo, although he thinks a little public display of affection wouldn’t hurt. “I love you either way,” he says instead, letting himself nose at Wonwoo’s forehead, obtusely forgetting that the older Jeon is still in the room with them, watching with a bemused gaze.

“Ah, truly. Young love,” he interrupts, clasping his hands. The sound doesn’t carry through, but it’s enough to pull Mingy and Wonwoo out of their trance before they could do anything risqué in nature, given the right mood. “You know, your mom and I—”

“Dad!” Wonwoo waves his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly. “We’ve heard this a thousand times already.”

Childishly, the older Jeon sticks his tongue out, making a face at his own son. “Well, Mingyu seems to like it when I tell my lovely story,” he tries to reason out, but Wonwoo isn’t having it. So, he cants his head to silently interrogate aforementioned man.

Mingyu shrugs, unable to contain his enjoyment at bay, not even remotely considering the option of lying. “What? I think it’s cute.”

At that, Wonwoo pouts. But Mingyu gives the both of them a little shake and the sulk on his features dissipate through unique little giggles typically unseen by the public eye. It’s one of Jeon Wonwoo’s faces that Mingyu loves and treasures the most, one of a lot that he had always strived to protect even during their darkest times. And he’ll continue to do so; until his last breath.

With his love unfettered and his chest thrumming with giddiness, he pecks a little at Wonwoo’s cheeks, smiling when the other flushes. When Wonwoo opens his mouth to speak, no words come out, though, even if there was something he’d say, Mingyu knows it would probably be an attempt to appease his concept; which Mingyu otherwise pertains to as the sexy, mysterious guy.

A hearty laugh carries into the room before they’re being pushed to some corner of the huge office. “Now, why don’t you boys scurry off. I think both of you are free for the day, if my memory serves me well,” the older man says, voice laced with enthusiasm. When they stop, they’re already situated in front of the second exit that’s connected to a secret hallway; it’s the one Mingyu and Wonwoo often use to get around when they want to meet privately inside company grounds, free from the prying eyes of people who are still yet to be made aware of their relationship.

Slipping his hand down on Wonwoo’s own, he brings them up intertwined, as though proudly presenting his most treasured thing. “Then, it would be my pleasure to steal your son for the time being.” Needless to say, Mingyu had already made plans for the rest of the day, intending to spend his free time with his one and only. Because he knows that after they let everyone in on their relationship, there wouldn’t be space to breathe for quite some time.

“Psh. You’ve already stolen my baby boy a long time ago.” The president pouts, uncannily looking like Wonwoo when he’s being extra whiny.

“You boys go, now,” he urges, motioning them to go.

Mingyu and Wonwoo both nod, turning to slip out as quietly as they can. When they go, they grace a small little wave. It’s a moment before they officially make it out the other side of the stretched tunnel-like contraption when the president’s voice boom from his office. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

Wonwoo laughs at that, the grip he has on Mingyu’s hand tightening. He looks to him, a radiant glow in his face, fresh and beautiful and anchoring that Mingyu feels the air inside his lungs leave him altogether. “Let’s go, love.”

—————

Mingyu was fifteen when he first came into the entertainment business. He was wide-eyed, young, and full of vigor to partake in projects offered to him. Though, if he would have had it, he would have loved to spend a normal life along with his family.

He wanted to go to school, maybe even go to college if he could; experience anything and everything that came with the beautiful phase of life called youth. But the harsh whims of life didn’t really allow him to afford such luxuries. He needed to help and work if he wanted to live comfortably. And albeit his personal preferences, Mingyu needed to go the extra mile — exert his fair share of efforts like how the rest of his family had.

Luckily, and it was almost as if the work of fate, he was discovered by an agent during an acting gig he did for a local theatre. At first, he’d actually thought that the pretty woman was scamming him since, before anything else, with the way the world is, his mother had always taught him to be wary of people. So, the first time the agent had offered him a free ride to fame’s first stop, he basically bolted away to the train station and went home as fast as he can.

Thankfully, the agent did end up coming back a second time on a morning showing, afterwards inviting Mingyu to follow her to the company she works for. He was apprehensive, but the lady didn’t really look or feel like she had the bone to hurt someone, upon closer inspection, so he’d agreed under the condition that they weren’t going to ride on some shoddy van or whatever vehicle she’d brought with her, and that he’d be trailing her from a meter behind.

Thankfully, after some negotiating, she did end up riding the bus with him. “A bit tedious,” she had remarked, but the smile on her face hadn’t faded away even after they’d walked under the scorching summer heat, only stopping until they reached the entrance of a gigantic building.

Mingyu could clearly remember how he felt upon seeing, in big bold letters, Pledis Entertainment Company snug on the center of such enormous structure. Exhilarating — like he’s just a second away from his heart dropping down his ass, and him defecating it out. He’d heard of the name; even had some actors and actresses from the company, he kept tabs on. He didn’t know how to feel being there, even more so when the guards manning the entrance actually recognized the woman he’d been following with partially blind trust — that she wasn’t actually planning to kidnap him and sell his organs on some backyard transaction.

And thus, at age fifteen, in the huge office of the president, Jeon Taehan, in a complete flurry of buzz, without even having consulted his parents, Mingyu had signed his name under the company in the promise and pursuit of becoming a star.

—

It hadn’t been all smooth sailing after that, and looking back, Mingyu thinks it wouldn’t have gone otherwise. He needed to drop out of school (which he’d been failing, anyway) and leave the side of his parents to pursue a career in the big city.

That was his first hurdle: adjustment. And it was a damn difficult feat.

The next came in the form of his initial catapult to stardom. Because, though he did have the talent and skill needed, given his theatre experience, Mingyu was still an unknown starlet. He was, after all, the newest addition to the brilliant roster curated by the company from their years of dominating the entertainment scene. He was also yet to be fully polished, still a little rough for the silver screen. The director of a project he had been cast as a temporary side-character for had told him once, but Mingyu had understood. He’d only ever acted in plays or in small club-related activities.

It didn’t bother him too much, really; Wonwoo told him not to mind, not to take it too deep in the heart. “Enter on one ear, leave on the other. Just remember to never be self-complacent; after all, we’re fleeting creatures under the spotlight,” he had said, a knowing smirk on his lips, all too wise despite being sixteen, body folded like Mingyu’s as they sat on the floor, near the wall, on one particularly cold day during a coaching session of theirs, both relatively tired after having spent an entire morning running through cold reads inside Wonwoo’s personal practice room.

The first time they’d met, Mingyu swore he was the prettiest boy he had ever laid his eyes on, akin to an angel sent from above as he walked inside the office of his father with a gracefulness unique to his fierce but delicate aura, wearing a simple, plain white dress shirt tucked in light-washed jeans. It was baffling the way his sharp features breathtakingly appeared to glow under the illumination coming from outside, too ethereal that Mingyu had to do a double take.

He had been called then to be introduced to a boy around his age, named Jeon Wonwoo, who would be helping him with acting lessons. He’d wondered why a boy his age was the one designated to help him with sharpening up his act, but when he learned he was the president’s son, and had been active in the industry ever since he was a child, Mingyu’s doubts about himself being played for a fool vanished as fast as they had come.

How could he suspect needlessly when Wonwoo had been nothing but patient with him? How could he possibly feel upset when the other had given him nothing but sincere smiles during their first meeting? All kind and gentle and compassionate —Mingyu just knew he’s nothing short of perfect.

And so, as Mingyu’s career had begun taking off, so did his fondness towards the boy who bought the two of them homemade cookies during every coaching session; towards the boy who he sneaked out with during his free nights to grab ice cream at the nearest convenience store (he didn’t know how Wonwoo was able to pull it off, but Mingyu appreciated every moment they had); towards the boy who, inside the mask of cold, snobby features, imbued the warmest touches; towards the boy who’s smile rivaled the radiance of the sun, burning, ever-so-bright and unreachable.

It was hard not to; it was impossible to be indifferent. Towards Wonwoo and everything about him, Mingyu couldn’t hold off his emotions. And though he felt it wasn’t right of him to harbor such wanting — such foreign neediness — towards the other boy, at seventeen, in his tiny apartment, with the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders, still yet a little on his name, Mingyu confessed the feelings that had simmered fervently inside him for a year, to the boy who kept on nudging his axis.

He was seventeen; had a tiny apartment, still yet to have much on his name, still wide-eyed with some freckles of jade, but now a little prouder of what he’s done for his family. Wonwoo was eighteen; had so much behind him, had accomplished a lot and was proud of where he had arrived, pretty and beautiful and dazzling in the sea of bright stars like him. But none of that really mattered under the kiss they shared atop Mingyu’s bed, small and tentative and exhilarating — and simply world-rearranging.

At seventeen, Mingyu held another man for the first time, and it was nothing but filling for who he embraced was the boy he’d grown to love and cherish. But, at seventeen, Mingyu began bearing the festering guilt of knowing he’d taken the heart of someone who many loved and adored all the same. He knew it the moment Wonwoo had left his arms, the moment the other man smiled at him with a baffling intensity while he snuck out of the dingy room to return home: dating him wouldn’t be easy.

It wasn’t; Wonwoo was the president’s son and the nation’s sweet boy before he was Mingyu’s boyfriend. And that, along with the daunting weight of expectation hovering above them, precariously held by a thin, frail rope, had inhibited Mingyu’s desire to make it known how he loves him with all his heart. He felt like he needed to prove himself as someone worthy of Wonwoo. It was a conclusion that didn’t come from hopelessness or jealousy but instead streamed from his eagerness to be able to show how he felt without anyone being able to say otherwise.

—

“I want to keep us a secret,” he says, mouth working faster than his brain could formulate words, looking away in the commanding influence of guilt. And when he turns to look at the upset expression on Wonwoo’s face, Mingyu’s stomach drops, his heart clenching when the former casts his eyes down.

Mingyu has never felt so suffocated inside his tiny apartment. Never has felt his chest constrict so hard, with so much heat, despite cool air rushing past his opened windows.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Won! I swear!” His words are frantic, almost lost-sounding as he struggles to make the other look at him. But he tries harder, knowing he could never leave their relationship at such a state. And though he feels like the biggest douchebag for making Wonwoo, the sweetest man, sad, Mingyu knows he’d have to push through the stream of shame to get his point across.

Cupping both sides of Wonwoo’s face, where he registers the sensation of wetness, he runs his thumbs on the prominent area of his cheeks in an attempt for imbue comfort. “Wonwoo,” he calls out, soft and airy, almost uncertain. But the other relents, looking up to him with a downturn on his eyes and lips, his hands coming to settle on both sides of Mingyu’s waist. They clutch the fabric of his shirt as if a manifestation of Wonwoo’s desperation for an explanation.

“Why?” he asks, voice small and vulnerable, frankly too pained it sends Mingyu to a quick fit of self-loathing. “Are you not happy? Are you not proud of us? Don’t you love me?” The last question almost goes unheard, but with how silent the room is, the words are able to easily, hotly sear through Mingyu’s chest, like a spear tearing through solid flesh.

“I care for and cherish and love you.” Mingyu pauses at his lack of words, stomach twisting too intensely that he has to stop himself from breathing for a second, all to get a hold of himself and his emotions. “Next to my family, you’re the person I want to protect the most. You’re the person I love, without no doubt,” he says, his limbs all too warm at the coldness that had seemingly permeated the air. Coldness that doesn’t necessarily come from the outside, but one that festers on the inside.

“But the people don’t know that — they may not even believe that at all.” He shakes at his admission, all his fears rushing to the surface in a flurry buzzing of disarrayed thoughts. To be truly honest, he’d put off thinking of the possible reactions people may have on him if they ever decide to make things public, so having it surge past his mind like a feverish heat wave is doing nothing for his esteem.

Mingyu knows he doesn’t have the luxury of expecting positive words to be said about him if ever. He is, after all, still a relatively unknown actor, the roles he’s gotten all fleeting and lesser than temporary. He also doesn’t have lots to offer unlike Wonwoo. So, no matter how in love he may be for the boy… no… man before him, it may never be enough to prove his sincerity.

What would they say? That he’s a gold digger? Aiming for the tiger to advance himself? A good for nothing bastard? A cocky young actor? Albeit hurtful, Mingyu knows he could handle it one way or another. Maybe.

But what would Wonwoo’s parents say?

Mingyu knows it would hurt more compared to baseless opinions made from the outside looking in.

“But—”

Mingyu cuts him off. “I love you; I hold you here—” he places a hand atop his chest, eyes still bearing into Wonwoo’s own as if speaking a silent assurance, a prayer for understanding “—with all that I have in me. But Wonwoo,” he trails off. Leaning forward, he presses on until his forehead is laid against his lover’s.

Maybe it’s because he’s seventeen still, or because Wonwoo’s the first person he’s ever loved with such a deep, all-consuming yearning, but for a moment, Mingyu becomes afraid to bear his soul to him. Afraid that if he does voice out the rest of his concerns, they might come true and haunt him — take Wonwoo away from him. But if the hand that the latter takes up to wipe the wetness on his eyes is any consolation, Mingyu finds another reason to become courageous.

“Though you see me as your equal, and though your opinion is what matters most, I need time to build myself for the people who thinks otherwise.” He tries to smile brightly, although he’s sure his mirrors the forlorn look of understanding that dawns on Wonwoo’s face. “I want to be able to fully protect this precious thing we have when the time comes, Wonwoo. I don’t want to lose you just because I can’t do anything.”

A relieved sigh leaves his lips when he doesn’t pull away from the kiss he presses on his lips. It untangles some of the knots in his stomach, and he thinks they would be okay, somehow, someway. And it’s in that moment that Mingyu allows himself to feel like a normal teenager, going through normal feelings and things, and he breaks in the embrace of his one and only.

It’s every bit as comforting and loving as it’s always been, as Mingyu notes. It’s always warm and cozy, filled with compassion and imbued with comfort that it’s unlike any other. And in Wonwoo’s embrace, Mingyu allows himself to dream of a future with him, finally free from the shackles of his inhibitions; it’s a dream that he’ll work on achieving, no matter how crooked the road may be going there.

When he calms down, when his heaving and sobbing subdues, Wonwoo pushes him back gently, hands on his shoulders as though added hold to keep Mingyu on the surface, his foxy eyes the main thing holding him from damnation. Although traces of sadness seep through the slight slant of his brows, Wonwoo tries to gift him an understanding smile. “I believe you, Gyu. And despite my thinking that you shouldn’t be worrying about something like that, because I’d love you, all the same, I understand that I can’t take that away from you.”

He brings down his hands to hold both of Mingyu’s, the room falling silent as he does so. When he seemingly deems his hold as secure enough, the thumbs over the other’s whitened knuckles. “But we’ll deal with this together, okay?”

Mingyu nods without question.

“And maybe, someday, when we’re truly ready, we can tell the whole world.” Then he presses a kiss on Mingyu’s lips, once more, the silent promise sealed in the brief second of contact, unsaid but all too obvious.

“Wait for me, Won.”

—————

“Do you still love me, love?” Wonwoo asks randomly, picking at his drawer for his underwear of the night as he’d cheekily pertain to it, at which Mingyu always bursts out laughing with how silly yet sense-filled the concept is. “We’re nearing our eighth beautiful year.”

He’d just came out of the shower, still wearing a towel to cover his privates (though Mingyu doesn’t think he has to), with his hair messy and wet, and water dripping and cascading down his sinfully toned body.

Sexy. Mingyu actually strains his focus to tear away his eyes from his beautiful lover and focus on the words he’d uttered.

From their bed, Mingyu immediately drops his phone with a frown. Immediately, he rushes to his man, unminding of the crumpled sheets he leaves behind in favor of catching him from the back. When he wraps an arm around the nakedness of Wonwoo’s torso, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling; like a love-struck idiot of a teen boy.

Expectedly, Wonwoo yelps, but quickly settles in Mingyu’s arms. A laugh tears the building silence before he melts into the embrace, tipping his head upward, obliquely to rest it on the dip between Mingyu’s collarbone and shoulder. “Gyu,” he calls, almost a whine.

It’s cute, either way; Mingy would never mind.

“What’s this nonsense you’re talking about now? Huh?” he asks, tightening his embrace around the other’s waist. If his body shudders when he registers water dripping down his arms, he doesn’t have time to dwell on the matter further before he’s being gently pushed away so Wonwoo could turn to face him. “Of course I love you! What kind of question is that?”

Wonwoo scrunches his nose and pouts. It’s an awfully adorable expression, Mingyu thinks, and it always catches his breath. Briefly, he thinks it isn’t the right time to pop a boner. After all, he does have more important matters to deal with.

“Don’t you love me anymore? Don’t you love ‘Gyu-yah’ anymore?” he asks, countering with a deeper pout, bringing his best aegyo face to the table, even nuzzling at Wonwoo’s wet forehead to have that extra added punch. “’Gyu-yah’ loves ‘Wonu-yah’ very much!”

Truthfully, Mingyu feels a bit silly acting so infantile — deems the cringe too much from the outside looking in —  but he couldn’t bring himself to stop; not when Wonwoo’s deep, hearty, beautiful laugh carries through the air not a minute later, and especially not when it melts to a blissed smile. It thrums in his heartstrings with a warmth so strong Mingyu wants to clutch his chest in happiness.

“I love you, too, Mingyu,” Wonwoo manages to squeeze through his fit of giggles, when he goes back to it. Naturally, his hands find purchase on the younger man’s nape, fingers instinctively tangling through Mingyu’s soft auburn locks. Slowly, he tips his head forward, closer and closer until he rests it on the crook of Mingyu’s neck.

The younger likes it. It always feels like they’re dancing to a slow song this way.

“It’s just that…” he trails off, seeming a little too wistful. “I’ve heard people talk about the seven-year itch, and I guess this is just me being worried and sentimental as we approach our eighth.”

“You’ve always been so understanding to me, and I feel like I haven’t done enough concessions for you. I’m afraid I’m always being annoying with my child-like whininess, or being too overboard with my other characteristics,” he continues, gentle voice cascading with honesty and concern. It nestles in the air a little bit, simmers in the intimate atmosphere surrounding the two of them, before it dissipates in Mingyu’s mind.

Mingyu inhales and rests his cheek atop Wonwoo’s head. “Why would you say that? You’re the best man in this world,” he starts. “And you’ve done enough — too much even. I know it’s been difficult for you all these years. I know you’ve struggled with this veil I asked for us to keep on, just because of my insecurity. You’ve made more than enough concessions and compromises for me, love. That I can confidently say. Never say you lacked in this relationship.”

Wonwoo wordlessly presses himself closer while Mingyu sways them to a silent beat, letting himself be guided through the muted song of their love. “Now, I want to make it up to you.” Mingyu smiles, his breathing a little jagged and his eyes a little too warm. “Thank you for waiting, Wonwoo—” pressing a kiss atop Wonwoo’s head, Mingyu sighs in content “—my love. Really.”

A wet chuckle sounds off from the man inside his embrace, and not a moment later, Wonwoo returns to looking back at him — to him. On his eyes are delicate tears, rimming and nearing their graceful fall, but on his lip is a happy smile. And the sight, although with conflicting features, is nothing short of being beheld.

My beautiful, handsome Wonwoo, is what Mingyu thinks about the pretty contrast, once again, just like every other time, memorizing the sight and filing it in the big box allotted for the man before him. That, before he leans in to kiss the corners of his lover’s eyes, unminding of the wetness decorating them.

“I want to show the world who I belong to,” he admits; honest; confident. And he knows it isn’t necessarily because of his money, or accomplishments, or fame, but because he knows he has something to show for when he tells the world he likewise owns the man he loves. Because he knows that he’s grown enough as a man — as a person — to be able to protect the man he loves, and the precious thing they hold together, even when the world would turn over.

Wonwoo chuckles in spite of his tears, sniffing roughly, still naked save for the towel hanging precariously around his waist. The bareness makes Mingyu want to chastise him out of concern, but he doesn’t do anything. Instead, he hugs him tighter — warmer, so Wonwoo doesn’t feel all too cold; so he knows he will never leave him.

“You know, it’s me who’s not quite confident revealing us to the world, now.” Then Wonwoo pouts, looking away before returning to glare at Mingyu.

Sensing the shift in the air, Mingyu unconsciously smiles. “Why?” he can’t help but ask.

“You’re such a hotshot now! It was okay when you were younger because you were still a lanky, awkward boy but—” he pulls away, scooting farther away and crossing his arms against his chest, eyes raking Mingyu’s body up and down “—god, you’re so fucking hot. What if my biz enemies attempt to seduce you to spite me? I trust you, but I feel like those snakes can get crafty,” he spats, groaning at the end. “I swear... they’re waiting for something.”

When Wonwoo finishes, Mingyu can do nothing but double over from laughter. He clutches his stomach as he bursts out countless of ‘ha-ha’s, slipping down to the ground in his unhindered amusement. Though, honestly, there are a few stars who seemingly don’t get along with Wonwoo behind the scenes, certainly because they’re jealous of him, he thinks the most they can do is send glares and empty words. But if it does come down to it, he wouldn’t even hesitate bolting off like a madman at their first show of interest, or avoiding them altogether.

“Yah,” he chides when he comes down from his high, grinning at his lover who had taken the look of a pissed husband during the time he’d been kneeling over himself. “Why would I choose those bitter skanks over you, my beautiful, handsome, perfect, kind, amazing, cute, talented, skillful, sexy, gorgeous, hunk of a man?” Clicking his tongue, he inches closer to engulf Wonwoo in a secure, comforting hug. “If you didn’t notice, this fool loves you very much.”

Even if he knows Wonwoo’s concern is unfounded, he knows it’s every bit valid — he’s felt the same way numerous times, after all, since that’s just how it goes with a boyfriend as brilliant and glimmering as Wonwoo. And he understands it; just like how he was understood when he was an awkward seventeen year-old boy. Mingyu doesn’t want to take it away from him. But if he can do something to alleviate Wonwoo’s insecurities, he would bend over backwards for it. He wouldn’t hesitate to, if he could.

“Listen, love,” he starts. “Seven-year itch or whatever or whoever that is, I will never get tired of waking up next to you, even if you hog the blanket when he sleep. I will never get tired of eating with you even if you dump everything you don’t like eating on my plate. I will never get tired of holding your hand. I will never get tired of kissing you, morning or night, even when you forget to brush your teeth. I will never get tired of your whining; because it makes me feel needed. I will never get tired of spending my days with you. I will never get tired of saying I love you, because it’s truly how I feel,”

Mingyu purses his lips, feeling a little teary-eyed at the face that Wonwoo makes at him: soft and wet and everything in him uncovered, open for Mingyu to flip through every page. His heart swells, and for a moment, he feels apprehensive of breathing because of how full his whole chest feels.

“I’ll never tire of loving you, Wonwoo,” he chokes. “Truly, really; I’ll love you until the day I die. I’ll love you even after I do.”

The room is still for a moment, and the only action that indicates that time hasn’t stopped is their sniffling. But when the silence does break, it’s because of Wonwoo’s loud cursing.

“Fucking hell, Kim Mingyu!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, roughly wiping away his tears that couldn’t seem to stop falling. “I love you! I love you! I love you!” is the string of confessions that follow afterward, loud and unabashed and everything that Mingyu knows he needs.

When Wonwoo tackles him back to bed, he obliges. And when he’s asked to hold the older man, he does so with undeniable reverence.

Hopefully, he thinks as he showed Wonwoo just how much he loves him, that every touch of his carries every ounce of certainty he has in his heart.

—————

Wonwoo was only seven when he entered the world of showbiz. He was young, and mindless, and simply followed his parents’ instructions. Though, in retrospect, they most probably didn’t mean for him to experience such complex confusions at a young age and, instead, just tried to get him used to the life they lived; the way they knew how.

Being a part of a ‘showbiz family’, it was expected of him to follow through with the same path his parents went. It was a pressure he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. And like him, it was expected for his little brother to join the league when he came of age. Being so, a normal childhood was never something afforded to the Jeon siblings; they always had to walk on eggshells to protect their family; they always had to do things differently than how other kids their age did them.

Even so, Wonwoo figured it wasn’t much of a burden. Sure, he didn’t have enough opportunities to go out and mingle with other kids without being bombarded by creepy people from the paparazzi, but Wonwoo liked being alone. He liked keeping to himself; loved the tranquility of and in his practice room while he studied the scripts given to him. Sure, he didn’t get to have many friends, but Wonwoo was simply content with having his brother — his ally — by his side amidst it all.

He liked acting; it was something he knew to do. And do well at a young age. He loved doing it because he saw it made people feel happy. His little, wide mind told him it was a good thing. So he didn’t complain even when, at age nine, he wanted nothing more but to rest, go home, and spend his days in a normal school because he was daunted by the mean director who screamed at the actors — his hyungs and noonas — whenever a scene didn’t go the way he wanted it to.

He didn’t complain when, at age eleven, he felt he was simply being dragged along like a doll from one commercial to another — one film production to another — without regards to anything other than towards his state of being able to perform. He didn’t say anything when he felt too tired to even speak, too drained from constantly having to stay awake at night to study his script because he felt inadequate. Since, by then, Wonwoo already realized how privileged he was for being able to breathe comfortably when others couldn’t; because he knew he was doing something he liked doing, and was good at, while getting paid a hefty amount for his name.

So he kept it bottled in, letting it inflate larger and larger with every show he worked on. He didn’t want to speak out aloud the sentiments gnawing in his chest because it wasn’t right for him to feel to; it wasn’t right for him to feel down in the first place. He didn’t want to retaliate since he’d feel like a disappointment to his parents who supported him endlessly.

He didn’t feel like he deserved to say otherwise.

At age fifteen, Wonwoo had already faced his fair share of demons. He was young, but he felt as though age had gotten the best of him — as though he was a wilting flower encased in the appearance of a youthful boy. It was like he was perpetually waiting for the time he could finally lay and rest in peace. It wasn’t obvious, and Wonwoo knew because he acted the hell out of it in his supposed real life.

Inside, he was tired and confused and didn’t know his purpose. But, on the outside, he looked like a delicate mystery. A wide-eyed boy who had the night sky dancing in his orbs; he liked to keep it that way. For the people who supported him. For his family who loved him.

He was perfect.

That is, until he met him. Kim Mingyu, the boy who shamed the sun with his delicate, almost fractured smile. Kim Mingyu, the handsome boy who had prominent canines that peeked through whenever he grinned too excitedly. Kim Mingyu, the ever so kind.

Wonwoo was sixteen when he’d laid his eyes on him. He was sixteen when his heart knocked on his ribcage in a panic-worthy way he almost forgot how to breathe. He was sixteen when he saw a boy unlike any other he’d starred with in passing. Fifteen, wearing an unforgettably tacky red polo-shirt bottomed with an all-too-large khaki pants, a little tanned and nicely contrasting with the pristine white sofa he’d been sat on. His hair fell comfortably atop his head, un-styled and looking shiny, and on his face sat surprised features, his eyes gleaming with surprise and something close to wonder.

He will never forget how he felt upon laying his eyes on the curious boy. Taken-aback, bordering breathlessness; it was as if his heart did a triple backflip and ended up breaking itself on the third one. The boy, who’d then been introduced to him as Kim Mingyu, the one his father told him about, to coach, was captivating in ways Wonwoo had never experienced before.

He was excited. A little too much so, as he’d realized, that it almost felt wrong. Like he had an ulterior motive; as if he was a hawk, preying, sharp eyes sighting the nearest prey to dominate. So, just like how he’s always done like clockwork, he filed away the strange feeling and compartmentalized it, to the best of his abilities so he wouldn’t have to open the box he’d allotted for it, again.

But, Mingyu — sweet, perfect Mingyu — had been nothing but a pulsating force of warmth; something akin to home. He was like the comfort of an embrace, the lingering tingle of a kiss, the security of a strong arm. Mingyu was everything Wonwoo had wanted to feel as a child. He was innocent, persevering, and fun. And Wonwoo wordlessly gravitated towards him even though he tried his very best to hold back.

At seventeen, he couldn’t deny it any more than he wanted to; Mingyu became something close to a second home. He became Wonwoo’s respite from the pain all the years of staying silent had caused him. In Mingyu’s presence, he was able to experience the childhood he never had, he almost felt unstoppable. In Mingyu’s company, he had experienced lots of firsts: like his first time sneaking out from home at night to grab ice cream, or his first time ditching a shoot to play games.

It was refreshing doing the things he shouldn’t normally be doing, and Wonwoo thought that it could’ve been the thrill that made it feel right. Well, he thought, but he knew it probably was because of the cheeky smile Mingyu had always flashed him in passing. It was always that that stopped him from thinking negatively about the things he’d been doing — made him stop thinking at all.

It was dangerous, truly addicting to be gifted with a smile that somehow told him he was doing well — that he deserved to breathe when he felt suffocated. And so, slowly but surely, he began breathing as how he should have: young and free and unfettered by pain.

Mingyu became the thread that held him from coming undone, so despite himself, he surrendered to the beating of his heart whenever the younger came close. He surrendered himself to the flutter in his stomach whenever the younger clung to him within the privacy of his practice room, or the other’s tiny space.

Wonwoo, finally, gave himself up to the insurmountable fact that he liked the boy who never tired of smiling even when he told the story of his hardships, how he suffered through the wrings of poverty; who never tired of comforting him whenever he came to their coaching sessions with a frown on his face; who looked like he wore his heart on his sleeves; who flashed him the brightest eyes whenever he became too excited; who looked like he could reach the sun and keep it within the softness of his palms.

Wonwoo thinks it would’ve been impossible for him not to, not when Mingyu was himself.

It was almost sure; an inevitability.

And Wonwoo thought it would’ve been a love he’d be forced to carry to the grave, never to be spoken of outside the guarded corners of his chasm of a mind. He was prepared to let go when Mingyu eventually found someone else to shower his attention properly. So, when Mingyu, in his dingy, one-person apartment that Wonwoo had grown to love, confessed his feelings to him, he jumped and took the chance.

Wonwoo was eighteen; he had his career, he had his family, but he had demons he needed to overcome. Mingyu was seventeen; he was perfect, the manifestation of comfort, the boy who saw through too much and yet still had a delicate, genuine smile, the starlet who did his all to protect the people he loved, the boy who made Wonwoo’s pain ebb away.

And that pain… that pain didn’t matter as he kissed Mingyu on his small bed, quick and gentle and fleeting. It was perfect, and if Wonwoo could have it his way, he would’ve chosen to live an infinite cycle of that moment. It was happiness inside that little room that had seen too much of how Wonwoo’s heart came to beat for the younger man. It was happiness he’d beg to be able to experience again.

And, at age eighteen, Wonwoo was held for the first time in his life. It was awkward, embarrassing, and all sorts of heart-gushing. But he would never change the way how they stumbled atop Mingyu’s crinkled sheets for the world. Because it was perfect… because who held him first was the man he’d grown to love and cherish. Because although Wonwoo somewhat knew moments like that was fleeting with the lives they led, if it was with Mingyu, it was alright.

And, truly, dating as actors wasn’t easy. He never thought it would be, not when he’d seen seniors of his fall apart because of the public’s expectations on them, individually. But he’d never thought he, himself, would be stuck in the type of relationship he’d seen, countless of times, crumble under pressure.

But it was okay. Mingyu and he were okay because they always did their best to understand one another. They always tried to uphold understanding, first and foremost, over anything that could potentially tick them off. Even when Wonwoo’s schedule was filling up he barely had the time to spend with Mingyu, the other understood him and never blamed him for it. In turn, their moments became even more precious than they already were. And that was okay — perfect because it was him and Mingyu, together.

That was until Mingyu, at eighteen, completely new and dazzling in the masses’ eyes, starred in first role as a main character for a rom-com.

Wonwoo was happy. He truly was. Mingyu was getting the recognition he knew the other deserved; but that didn’t mean Wonwoo wasn’t insecure. Because, beside Mingyu, as his love interest, was Shin Hana, a friend Wonwoo presumed he had.

Had because Shin Hana was greedy and wanted the spotlight to herself. Had because they were never really friends in the first place.

She was the first person he considered to be his ally among all other child actors he had worked with. And it would’ve stayed that way if Wonwoo hadn’t gotten a role in the primetime show Hana liked so much. As naively as he’d believed it was regretful for them to fight over something so juvenile, as he got older he figured that it was probably for the best. After all, Hana had only kept him near because of his name — just because of his name.

After that, they’ve been nothing but competitive, constantly engaged in a battle as to who could upstage who. And, even though Wonwoo knew he was just as good if not more, tried to think of it positively for Mingyu who understood him, he couldn’t help but feel inadequate. All because Hana was a girl.

It wasn’t that Wonwoo didn’t trust Mingyu; the latter had proven himself constantly that Wonwoo shouldn’t strongly feel worried or even so at all. However, he didn’t trust Hana who, from the start of their promotional activities, had started flirting up a storm with him. Thus, Wonwoo’s insecurities always got the best of him when he thought of the vast difference between him and his past friend. Because despite his and Mingyu’s love, Wonwoo knew there were things that Hana could give his boyfriend that he couldn’t.

And that hurt.

It was especially painful when the rumor that she and Mingyu ‘got along well’ made its rounds through the entertainment circle, and then through the public. Of course, Wonwoo tried to remain calm and understand. He tried keeping silent and remained trusting to Mingyu, because he knew he would never betray him. But with every news that he passed by, and with every ‘MinNa moments’ videos that popped up on his feed, Wonwoo slowly lost his confidence on himself.

It was scary — being so jealous he couldn’t think of anything else. It was scary — being… no… feeling alone in deal with borderline crippling feelings he never knew he was possible of feeling. It was almost debilitating.

Mingyu was with Wonwoo even though he couldn’t see him often since they were filming off the city. He texted frequently, gave updates, and called every night. The latter knew he wasn’t dealing with it alone, that Mingy was doing his best to make Wonwoo feel safe, but it was himself that made it feel like he was.

So, in his debilitating jealousy and budding rage, he took to his SNS to vent about his festering frustrations. He didn’t write anything identifying — Wonwoo knew better to do so — and even intended for it to be posted on his personal account. But instead, in his rush to get his feelings out, he hadn’t noticed that he’d used his official company page for his selfish tirade.

That was how the world came to conclude that he and Mingyu hated each other. But that was also how his family came to find out otherwise.

—

Wonwoo sits on the black couch in his father’s office, mum, with his head hung low. Mingyu, meanwhile, had taken the space beside him, similarly in the same state as Wonwoo while the president stares at the two of them down from a few meters away, his presence imposing. Similarly, Wonwoo’s mother, Jeon Jinri, who had visited by chance, stands near them with, thankfully, a slightly more understanding look on her face.

They’ve been called in immediately the day after the press got hold of the newest fodder and plastered screenshots of Wonwoo’s tweet in various articles, just a day after he had unknowingly posted his vague-but-sufficiently-detailed-enough rant. Mingyu even had to come back from shooting to sort matters out; with that fact alone, Wonwoo, before being spoken to, knows the matter is as serious as his father’s face had been when they met eyes.

And although Mingyu said he understood how Wonwoo felt, when he begged for forgiveness, the latter still couldn’t help feeling guilty that he could have possibly cost such a big opportunity from Mingyu. He had been childish and stupid, and because of him, they’re in a mess that could potentially damage the company as well — Wonwoo had fully realized when his manager pulled him away to deliver his father’s orders.

“Wonwoo,” his father calls, voice stern and in a way that he doesn’t hear often. He flinches unconsciously, and it seems the older Jeon notices because he takes a sharp inhale. “Don’t you know how it could affect the reputation of the company if the public thinks their idols are on bad terms?” he continues, softer this time, but Wonwoo still doesn’t look.

The sound of his black shoes hitting the ground echoes inside the wide office space, curt and fast, almost rushed but imposing all the same. It doesn’t take long for Wonwoo to figure out he’s inching nearer. It doesn’t take long before his heart hammers in his chest with something akin to fear. But, thankfully, it stops near where his mother stands, and, somehow, he feels a little relieved.

“Boys, if there are problems between you two, we need to talk it out.” His mother’s sweet, collected voice filters through the tension. It eases Wonwoo enough to look up at them. Though he instantly regrets it when he sees his father’s disappointed gaze staring back down at him, judging, almost as if he were prying into Wonwoo’s thoughts.

Beside him, Mingyu makes a minute movement to move closer, closing just enough to have his arm glaze against Wonwoo’s when he moves the littlest bit. “W-W aren’t fighting, Ma’am, Sir,” he intervenes, the shake in his voice clear as day. But he stays steadfast, breathing quickly before he speaks again. “It’s just that—”

“It’s just that?” the president repeats, tone laced with incredulity, not even waiting for Mingyu to finish. Wonwoo notes how he averts his eyes to Mingyu’s, stare overpowering, almost a little challenging; as if he’s telling him not to lie when he really isn’t. “Be honest, Kim Mingyu. Is Wonwoo making you cover up for him?” he says too easily — a little too firmly. As if Wonwoo had done this before.

His chest constricts at the accusation, and a lump makes itself evident in his throat. Wonwoo could do nothing but gulp, trying his utmost to keep the waterworks at bay. And maybe it’s because of the stress that had accumulated from him mulling about his own mistake, or the ever-pressing guilt that comes with having done Mingyu wrong, or the anxiousness that had built up as he walked the halls leading to his father’s office, but Wonwoo feels his heart sink before it throbs.

“N-No, Sir.” Mingyu answers, his back up straighter this time, casting a brief glance at Wonwoo as if in encouragement. “He would never.”

The older woman brings a hand to grasp her husband’s shoulder, a visible gesture to try and keep him calm. “Then, what’s going on between the two of you?” she directs at Mingyu before turning to Wonwoo with a concerned gaze. “You don’t normally act like this, dear.”

The youngest Jeon bites his lower lip, the bitter feeling of unmet expectations settling in his tongue like hard sandpaper. “Nothing’s wrong, mom,” he replies, as sturdy as he can despite the shake in his chest. Reluctantly, he turns to his father. “Please, let’s just drop it.”

He doesn’t actually expect his father to relent so easily, so when a breath later, he says, “Then why did you go out of your way to diss Hana and him through your official account?” in a chastising way, Wonwoo only takes a deep inhale, trying to calm his roughly palpitating nerves. “Did you want the role? You didn’t audition for it so why are you being immature like this?”

His veins thrum from the word, and it feels as though it had struck a chord that’s been waiting to snap. A humorless chuckle bubbles out of his chest, his eye twitching in undeniable bafflement at the accusation his father had said.

Immature? He repeats mindlessly within the confines of his mind, the word acerbic in his tongue.

Mingyu speaks. “S-Sir, that’s not—”

“What? Immature?” Wonwoo enunciates, slow and tentative as though unwilling to believe his father had said it, nevertheless thought of it. For a brief second, he thinks he might just be taking it a little too sensitively, but when flashes back to feeling like a ten-year old, all over again, like a wilting carcass of a child, he balls his hands in retaliation. “Aren’t I human? Can’t I feel emotions, dad?” he bites back, voice tasting of defiance.

His mother’s eyes bulge at his reply, a panicked expression flashing through her features until she schools it to a stern one. “Wonwoo, dear, that’s enough,” she warns, although her tone remained non-threatening.

If his father’s eyes bore into his, Wonwoo doesn’t relent. “I did not say that, Jeon Wonwoo,” the man spats, clearly holding himself to a certain degree of calmness. It’s clear that when he speaks later, he’s chosen his words. “What I’m saying is for you to be professional even if you don’t like your fellow actors.”

It still sends a painful vibration straight through Wonwoo’s chest. He shouldn’t have taken it too personally, but it makes him wonder if all the efforts he’d exerted as a child actor up until this very moment was unnecessary — if the pains he’d experienced would only fall in vain.

“Won,” Mingyu calls out when Wonwoo stands in his defiance, a foreign expression on his face that doesn’t match his innate childishness and kindheartedness. He reaches out a hand, but Wonwoo advances far enough that he couldn’t grasp it.

“Don’t—” the president pauses, clearly confused at how his son is acting out. But he does little to dwell on it. “Don’t make excuses for him, Mingyu. Wonwoo needs to know when he’s made mistakes.”

“Honey, that’s enough,” the older woman warns again, this time with a little edge in her tone.

Wonwoo supposes he could stop, that he could compartmentalize once again and apologize, but all he sees is black and his father’s inability to understand him. And it’s painful to continue to have to defend himself without truly having the chance to have his side be heard.

His eyes sting with a familiar heat, so he tries to blink it away. “Mistake? Are my feelings mistakes, dad?” he asks, apprehensive and bitter, casting a distraught gaze upon his father and mother, one bearing all the frustrations he’d dealt with alone before Mingyu came and patched him up.

Rushing to his side, Mingyu immediately places his hands on both of Wonwoo’s arm, thumbing the area in an attempt to calm his seething boyfriend. He prompts him to look at him. “Won. Breathe,” he urges and feels slightly relieved when his instructions are followed.

Wonwoo turns around the exact moment his father opens his mouth to speak. Without thinking, he says as fast as he can, “No.”

“No,” he repeats, sounding frantic. “You can’t tell me what to do on this one, dad.” He shakes his head after, as if a stubborn child.

The older man can only look at him with a perplexed expression of disbelief. “No?” he says as though the word was foreign; like Wonwoo had never said it before. His expression contorts to that of confused anger. “Watch your tongue, young man—”

“No, dad. I’m allowed to feel jealous here!” Wonwoo finally explodes, pointing a finger straight to his chest, loud and booming and unbecoming of his calm and composed demeanor. Mingyu has never seen Wonwoo so angry.

Weary and confused, Jeon Jinri could only do so much as hold her husband off while he huffs. “Jealous of what?” The boom of his voice rivals Wonwoo’s, and if it weren’t for the soundproofing of his office, their little tirade would’ve been heard by everyone outside. “For goodness’ sake you have your own career, Jeon Wonwoo! Try harder next time if you want to be a part of whatever production you like!”

Wonwoo screams in frustration, tears brimming his eyes as if a sea held by one small bowl, his heart in sonic speed. “I’m not talking about the fucking production!”

The room falls silent, too silent in fact that the friction of Mingyu’s shoes against the tiled floor could be heard when he moves a little too fast to pull Wonwoo close. If it were any other moment, it would’ve been a little funny seeing the scandalized look on both the president and his wife’s faces, but it isn’t, so they’re nothing more but ticking time bombs.

“Won—”

Then it happens all too fast, all at once.

Jeon Taehan opens his mouth. So does Wonwoo.

“I’m supposed to be his boyfriend! Why can’t I be jealous when that bitch Hana is coming onto my boyfriend?! Why can’t you understand me, dad?!” he spits, bordering a growl, intensity hotter than magma.

That shut everyone up. For a moment Mingyu feels the air in his lungs leave all at once. Wonwoo, on the other hand, reels immediately after the words regretfully leave his thoughts and go straight out of his mouth. It doesn’t take a second later when he’s turning back to Mingyu with wide eyes mirroring the latter’s.

“Oh my god. Gyu—” he sniffs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” Then he repeats it again; once; twice; maybe thrice, before his father interrupts with a confused, “Your… what?”

“N-Nothing! M-My nothing!” Wonwoo struggles to reply when he meets the older Jeon’s twitching facial features that bore directly on Mingyu like a predator’s.

With zero thought process required, Wonwoo jumps in front of Mingyu in an attempt to hide him from his father. And despite the uneven clattering of his chest, he forces himself to stay strong as he meets his father’s eyes. “Dad, no,” he says, but it goes unheard.

The older man advances with little to no emotion. “You’re his what?” he asks again, a sense of danger dripping in his baritone voice.

“Taehan,” his wife calls again, this time with a forcefulness that reels the head back.

Wonwoo opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off by the feeling of Mingyu intertwining their hands together. Bravely; as if everything he worked for isn’t at stake with his admission. “I-I’m Wonwoo’s b-boyfriend,” he stutters, bowing a full ninety degrees at his boyfriend’s shell-shocked parents. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, Sir,” he follows, unsure of what else he could possibly say to alleviate their obvious anger.

It’s Wonwoo’s mother that snaps out of it first. With a brief, hurried wave of a hand, she dismisses his concerns. “O-Oh, there’s no need to apologize, son,” she says, pulling her husband a little further to a side. He follows wordlessly; Mingyu couldn’t tell if it’s a good thing.

“Just… give us time to sort this out, okay?” she follows, giving a strained smile before turning to Wonwoo with a look of understanding and encouragement. “Wonwoo, dear, please guide the two of yourselves out for a while.”

“Y-Yes, mom.”

“I’ll text you when you can come back, okay?”

Wonwoo, shaking, drags Mingyu out of the room using his father’s second exit.

—

“G-Gyu.”

Mingyu watches as Wonwoo breaks right after they enter his practice room, tears staining his face, snot dripping down his nose, while he clutched on his shirt with an intensity only possible through desperation. He bites his lip, feeling the hairs of his back stand, uncomfortable at how destroyed Wonwoo looks.

Wordlessly, he takes the crying man in his embrace, making sure to properly slip his arms around his waist so that he feels surrounded. There’s a pinch in Mingyu’s heart that only grows when the other sobs uncontrollably, shoulders on full shake that it almost felt like he’d break in his arms when if Mingyu’s being careful with his hold.

Unconsciously, Mingyu, himself, tears up.

He hates this; and it’s not because they’ve been found out.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I-I shouldn’t have spoken,” Wonwoo cries out, his embrace around Mingyu tightening. It’s almost as though he’s afraid that if he loosens it a little bit, the other would disappear from his view. “I’m sorry.”

Mingyu exhales slowly, shaky and uneven, afraid that if he rushes it, he might cry. And he, more than anyone, knows that he needs to be strong for the both of them. He needs to let Wonwoo see that they can get through this. If not him, then who? If not now, then why did he promise to protect Wonwoo?

Nuzzling the side of the other’s face, he says, “Wonu. Look at me,” before pulling away to meet him in the eye. But he only gets another sobs as an answer before a weight falls on his chest, his boyfriend burying his face on the area.

“N-No. I’m sorry.” It comes out closer to a garbled muffle than a coherent play on words. “I messed up, I’m sorry.”

For a brief moment, Mingyu thinks that maybe it’s significantly better he couldn’t see Wonwoo’s full crying face. It may be less painful. But the painful throb and the twitchy ache in his chest proves him otherwise. All he wants to do is crawl in his small bed with Wonwoo and comfort him until he feels better.

But he can’t, so he has to do what he can.

“Please, love?” he asks once again.

Thankfully, this time, the other relents and pulls back, albeit in snail-pace. When he meets Mingyu’s eyes, and his face comes to full display, he’s still every bit as beautiful. But, no matter how beautiful he may appear even with tears cascading down his eyes and snot down his nose, Mingyu would still prefer his sweet, smiling Wonwoo over the sad one.

“Gyu,” he calls, the downturn of his eyes one indication of his rippling guilt. “I really didn’t mean to. I swear.”

Truthfully, Mingyu was taken aback by the other’s outburst, as well as his accidental slip. But he understands that Wonwoo has his insecurities and demons that he’s still yet to fully overcome and, maybe, he was dealing with one of them earlier. Why would he cry this bad if he didn’t? Why would he look so broken if it was truly something trivial?

Above all, even if Mingyu felt upset at being outed when he didn’t want to, he promised Wonwoo they’d overcome all their hurdles together. Above all, he promised himself he would keep the gentle smile on Wonwoo’s face there for as long as he can.

Because he loves Wonwoo. Because he’ll continue loving him even if others wouldn’t believe him.

Sighing, Mingyu then puffs up his chest, nascent confidence powering the smile that stretches his lips afterwards. “I know. I know,” he says, slow and patient, imbuing every ounce of understanding he could so Wonwoo understands that he isn’t mad at him. “It’s okay.”

When the other doesn’t respond, he pulls away, fighting the urge to hug his boyfriend back when his hold around him tightens. He brings up his hands to cup Wonwoo’s face that had taken to turn at another direction. “Look at me, please?” he pleads, slipping a little whine, repeating the words and drawling them out until Wonwoo turns to him.

He meets the older’s eyes, staring at him lovingly before pressing a kiss over his wet cheeks. “It’s alright, yeah?” He nods, as though inviting Wonwoo to agree. Not waiting for a reply, Mingyu reaches for the handkerchief he’d brought with him and carefully wipes away the tears decorating Wonwoo’s pretty face. “Whatever it is, we’ll go through it together.”

The other only blinks, staring at him while tears continued to stream down, on his eyes a glaze of adoration and love that it has Mingyu forgetting why they’re there in the first place. That is, until Wonwoo utters, “I’m sorry,” in that tiny, unsure voice of his.

Mingyu frowns, but he schools his features as best as he can so Wonwoo wouldn’t feel upset. He doesn’t need to try as hard as he can, not when the other melts his heart without any effort, not when he couldn’t stay mad at him even if he tried.

“God, you need to stop saying that,” he huffs instead, pushing away some strands of hair that had strayed on Wonwoo’s face and brushing them up gently until they untangle from the stickiness of his sweat and tears.

“If anything, I’m sorry I made you feel so alone. It must’ve been difficult,” Mingyu consoles, this time pressing a kiss on his forehead before his envelops him in a hug. To the beat of an empty song, he rocks the two of them side to side, reveling in the warmth of the man in his midst.

“N-No. You could never. I should’ve been more understanding,” is what Wonwoo voices out a long while later, still sounding guilty. But his breathing has evened, and his tears have subsided, so it’s much better than how he had been just a while ago.

Mingyu hums against the side of his head, making a noise that indicated thinking. “You’ve been perfect, Won,” he counters, dipping his chin on Wonwoo’s shoulder. “Don’t feel otherwise, okay?”

The other man lets out a strangled noise, and Mingyu feels him clutch onto his upper back. “Why are you so nice? I don’t deserve you,” Wonwoo whispers, almost a mumble, before he kisses the younger’ neck.

Mingyu giggles at the touch, his chest swelling with fullness despite their current situation, mind emptying out anything remotely negative in favor of putting all attention on his man. Gently, he pats the older’s back. His eyes are shut, and he’s almost slumping on him just as much as he is hugging, all in the pursuit of basking in his scent.

“Shh. Don’t say that,” he says.

“But… Dad,” Wonwoo replies, and Mingyu stops short at swaying the two of them, remembering the murderous look that the president had bestowed upon him earlier.

He shudders, though he continues where he left off, unwilling to allow any feelings of doubt in Wonwoo to fester once more. “I know,” he assures, as if he actually has the power to fight for Wonwoo and himself. “We’ll find a way, okay?” But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

—

Unknown to them, two pairs of eyes had actually been watching. From a distance, tucked in a safe angle where they could be blocked away from sight, Jeon Taehan and Jeon Jinri bore witness to the pure love between their son and one certain rising star.

“You shouldn’t have threatened them like that!” Jinri whisper-shouts at her husband, slapping a heavy hand on his side then pinching the area as an extra punishment, an unimpressed looked on her face when she turns to look at him. “See?! You made Wonwoo cry.”

“He started it,” he defends, a little childishly with a stubborn frown, to which Jinri scoffs at. “Plus he’s had a boyfriend we didn’t know about! It could’ve been disastrous Jinri!” Though, as begrudgingly as it could get, Taehan would admit it was sweet how the once toothpick-looking start that was Kim Mingyu comforted his asshole son. However, he’s not putting his trust on the boy any time soon; it’s his son on the line if he fucks up.

“Shut up. You’re son’s been nothing but obedient; it must’ve gotten to him,” she mulls, tearing up at the sight of Mingyu and Wonwoo slow dancing to empty air, while thinking about how her son had probably kept it all inside. “You won’t be sleeping inside our room if you don’t talk to him tonight,” she adds.

“I’ll be sure to deal with the press, so you apologize to the both of them before we talk as a family.” When she cants her head to spare her husband attention, he thankfully has the decency to look a little guilty.

“Okay.”

“And don’t you dare make them break up or—” she trails off, finishing off her sentence instead by gliding her thumb in a line over her neck.

And Jeon Taehan, despite his power, could only nod without question.

—————

Eight years with this lovely man, Mingyu thinks with a beaming smile as he stares at the man seated across the dining table who’s been happily munching at the breakfast he’d made for the two of them, a fullness in his chest that almost feels suffocating, though in the best way possible.

They should be in god speed, Mingyu realizes, since it’s the first day of filming for the movie. He needs to actually eat his portions, and not just spend his time hovering his spoon over his plate, close to his mouth. They need to get out of the house, and arrive to the company before going to the shooting location with their respective managers; all so they wouldn’t be found out, yet. And if they want to keep up their act until their long awaited debut as a couple, they need to stick to their day-to-day programming.

Mingyu knows that.

But he also knows that he simply couldn’t not gawk at his boyfriend, even if it’s just him eating fried egg and bacon to fuel up for the start of their day; even if it’s just him simply flitting his eyes between Mingyu and his own plate, gaze wistful and enchanting like how they’ve always been.

Mingyu also knows he’s getting impatient of hiding.

Now that he’s actually ready to scream, from the top of his lungs, that the man wearing a bright yellow hoodie with SimSimi print on it, completed with a somehow eccentric patterned multi-washed jeans, is his, and vice versa, Mingyu has become relatively rushing and more overt. It’s not a new feeling, he’s always felt the need to hold Wonwoo’s hand in the open, kiss him when people are looking, but he wasn’t as ready then as he is now.

But, as both his fathers had said: “You’ve waited and worked hard for this for so long. It won’t be any good to not come out with a bang.” That, his biological dad said with a pride similar to the one nestled in Mingyu’s heart, while his second dad the same, but teasing and in his usual eccentricity. And that, and with all the time Wonwoo had patiently waited for him, kept him close even if he wanted to surface from the dark, Mingyu knows it’s right to give reverence to him — to all the love he’s given Mingyu without asking for anything in return.

“Hey.”

Wonwoo pulls him out of his thought, and when he comes to it, he zones in on the curious look that had taken the other’s face. He seems like he’s just about to bite another piece of bacon, judging by the fork hovering near his mouth, and Mingyu thinks, quite frankly, that it’s cute; and that if companies knew about it, they’d immediately book him for an advertisement.

“Hey,” he replies, “I love you.”

Time stands still, then Wonwoo’s cheeks bleed red. He looks away, coughing and sputtering, before returning to glare at Mingyu. “That’s foul play, love,” he says, tone chiding. But his face melts to that of a suppressed smile, and it betrays his words.

Not that I don’t know you love it, Mingyu teases inwardly, laughing at the contrast, feeling all too warm inside.

He brings his clean hand out to thumb at Wonwoo’s cheek. The other lets him, even leans at his touch, staring at him with doe eyes, uncharacteristic from the haughty appearance he’d always portrayed well on screen. It melts Mingyu’s heart; tugs on his heartstrings, for a better lack of words. It may just be his ego, but it’s flattering to know only he is able to see such disparity from the man coveted by many.

I can’t wait to love you out in the open. The words come barreling hard against Mingyu’s lips, but he bites back from saying it, unsure if he wants to get emotional before they leave for work. It isn’t like they haven’t had this conversation but, every time, one or the other always gets too teary eyed to function.

But, just like every time, Wonwoo’s able to read his mind like an open book; as if it’s a power of his. “I can’t wait to love you like how you should be loved, Gyu,” he says, and Mingyu gets what he means because he feels the same way. Though the feeling of guilt gnaws once more in his chest at the expectant look on Wonwoo’s face, he doesn’t let it fester; he doesn’t let it take over him like how he had let it all these years.

Instead, he tips Wonwoo’s chin up, slowly stands from being seated, and leans in, capturing in a loving press his equally loving partner, meaning the intensity with every fiber of his being.

Wonwoo is his, and he is Wonwoo’s. And, soon, the world will know.

—————

It’s, as expected, quite the feat to continue acting passively around Wonwoo on set. And it’s not necessarily all Mingyu’s fault. Because, sure, he might be a little too love-struck to function, for his own good, but Wonwoo is equally at fault for how he couldn’t seemingly rid himself of giddiness.

If not, then why had Wonwoo been sneaking glances at him? Why does he seek Mingyu’s own with those hot, passive-like slits for eyes that he only ever does for his ‘bad guy’ roles? Why does he take all the littlest opportunities to brush against him, so nonchalantly, like he’s tempting him to touch back? Why does he call his name like he’s a secretary in a cheaply made porno, like the one he found on Seungkwan’s phone when he tried playing games?

It’s been a good number of weeks now, filming and everything. And, at first, keeping a safe distance with Wonwoo was — yes, challenging — but relatively easy with how they didn’t really interact save for when they shot their scenes. But, somehow, Mingyu thinks the other has dialed out a lot more of his charms as they went on, doing aforementioned things that just itch his insides in all the right places.

Oh my god, is he seriously trying to seduce me right now?

Mingyu’s cheeks heat up at the thought, and the memory of Wonwoo flashing him a smirk before he’d entered his own dressing room burns from the back of his retinas. It’s enough to have him fanning his face with a fervent hand. And it’s certainly sufficient to have the words on his script bleed and mix altogether.

“You tempting cat,” he mutters under his breath, sighing as he tips his head back. Mingyu isn’t angry, quite the contrary when he thinks of how he can deal with aforementioned cat when they can finally spend some time alone. Thoughts which he shouldn’t be having on set; especially not when they’re only in a short standby.

When he comes to it, Seungkwan is looking at him with an apprehensive look on his face. His eyes are beaded and speculative, with a detached frown on his lips, like he’s thinking really hard. It looks somewhat silly, in Mingyu’s opinion, and he fights back a snort while he flips through the script in his hands.

“Are you okay?” he asks, but it doesn’t pull Seungkwan out of something just as Mingyu had been expecting. Instead, he only narrows his eyes smaller, flitting over to a direction, before returning to Mingyu, now with a tentative feel.

Then he sighs, placing the notebook he’s been carrying down the table. “You’re not fighting are you?” he inquires, taking the deliberate choice to lean in an whisper, close enough where Mingyu would only be the one able to hear him. And though Mingyu has to strain his hearing to understand what he’s trying to say, he makes it a point to understand since they’re only several meters away from the actors currently filming.

He shoots him a look. “Fighting with who, exactly?”

Seungkwan bulges his eyes at him, gesturing at nothing while he does so, and when Mingyu only makes a confused face, he rolls his eyes and leans even closer until he’s blatantly whispering in his ears, “Wonwoo,” to which the other pulls back to flash him an even more clueless expression.

“Eh? Why would you think so?”

“Well…” Seungkwan moves his chair closer, looking left then right to ensure nobody had been secretly listening. Mingyu thinks it’s quite over the top, and would possibly be a reason for others to misconstrue, but he listens anyway. “He’s been looking at you constantly ever since filming started; it’s been, like, a couple of weeks now — and it’s not even those passive ones he used to give you when you meet at the company. It’s kind’a like he’s challenging you, somewhat? I don’t know; something along the lines. It’s weird, but I don’t know if it’s the good or bad kind.”

Mingyu probably shouldn’t, but he lets the heat building form his neck rise to his ears at the other’s opinion. There’s something oddly flattering at the thought of other people seeing how much attention Wonwoo has been paying to him. Mingyu doesn’t know it well, but maybe it could be the exhilaration of having considerably risqué interactions (since they’ve yet to announce their relationship), but he thinks it’s most probably pride that dances in his chest with the knowledge that the other couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

It’s elating; and if Mingyu were to be honest, it’s quite frankly and ego boost for him. He has to reel himself from smiling like an idiot while he relishes in the comfort of knowing that he really hadn’t been the only one doing considerably creepy things during the duration of the filming. And, briefly, he wonders why he’s only ready now; it would’ve been great for people to bear the knowledge of who his heart belongs to, and vice versa.

But, well, maybe good things take time, as they say.

“Right?” A small smile still appears on his lips, however he tried not to let it show. Though, Mingyu has the decency to avert his eyes from Seungkwan’s questioning ones as he lets out a dreamy, “I mean, I wouldn’t blame him.”

A snap later and the other is pulling Mingyu down, an firm hand on his shoulder. “What?!” the other says, clear cut, nascent panic in his tone. “Did you do something to him?” he quickly follows, slower this time as if he’s reading micro-changes in Mingyu’s expression as he says it.

Mingyu sighs, remembering what exactly Seungkwan doesn’t know about him and Wonwoo. “Of course not! I’m just saying—”

“Saying what?” he beads his eyes again, the frown on his face prominent. He probably thinks Mingyu had said something to Wonwoo. Which, well, he does — they’re mostly ‘I love you’s though.

Instead of expounding, Mingyu simply pulls up a hand to make up a ‘peace’ sign, smiling sweetly as if he’s not done a disservice to his manager by keeping his relationship a secret for three whole years. “Nothing. He-he.”

Seungkwan huffs at that, and traces of disbelief still linger on his features, but he otherwise concedes. He sits back upright and leans back on his chair, more or less at the verge of gesticulating calmly. “Ehh. I don’t know what your deal is with him, but you better not try anything,” he says, chiding, tone ominously serious that Mingyu has to stop himself from chuckling. “You’re dead meat if the president finds out.”

If only he knew.

“Yes, sir.” Mingyu salutes.

“By the way—”

“Mingyu?” is the call that pulls them both from their small bubble. It’s soft and sweet, said in a relaxingly deep voice, that Mingyu doesn’t even need to search his memories for the owner of it.

He hurriedly snaps his head up, an automatic bright smile plastering over his face as he reaches out a hand to the other. “Oh! L—” he luckily stops himself at the last second upon seeing Wonwoo’s eyes bugle, and he quickly schools his expression to that reserved for formalities.

“Yes? Can I do anything for you?” His hand still hangs in the air, but Mingyu is quick to retract it through the most inconspicuous manner possible: acting like he’s swatting flies away. “Oh~ why are there so many insects here? Ha-ha,” he even says in an attempt to be more convincing, if his brilliant acting somehow falls short, but he instantly know he’s failed at it when he looks back at Wonwoo and sees him do the face he does when he’s feigning his sulk.

Are you sure about that, love? Mingyu can basically hear Wonwoo saying that.

He fights the urge to smile and die peacefully.

Wonwoo breaks the silence shortly after sending Mingyu a look before he turns to Seungkwan with a kind smile. “Hi, Seungkwan,” he greets and immediately earns a genuine grin from aforementioned male. “I hope I’m not disturbing, but can I talk to Mingyu for a bit?” he follows, a little timid and reserved.

For a moment, Seungkwan looks at him like he’s grown another head; Wonwoo and Mingyu hadn’t spent much time together on set aside from when they had to, after all. But after some quick alternating looks at both actors, he finally finds his voice and says, “S-Sure!” though there’s still an uncertainty in his eyes when the two men retreat to a different part of the set.

“You guys have… fun?” It goes unheard, what with the two actors — weirdly — jovially strutting away with something beyond a simply friendly atmosphere.

In Seungkwan’s confusion, he looks around to see if he isn’t the only one seeing things. And, true enough, some actors and staff had stopped at what they were doing to follow Mingyu and Wonwoo walking away, who, as they do so, share vague semblances of smiles on both their face as they engage in what seems to be a civil (friendly) talk.

Though Seungkwan’s manager side doesn’t appreciate the possible rumors that the sight can birth — since people could get really crafty with their theories — he couldn’t exactly blame them for being interested. It’s the first time Wonwoo and Mingyu have acted like they aren’t non-existent in each other’s life, after all.

Did they make up or something? he thinks, clicking his tongue as he processes the idea. Something fishy is definitely going on, though, I’m sure.

—

“I missed you,” Wonwoo almost purrs, his then formal expression melting to that of a delicate smile, complete with the sides of his eyes lightly crinkling. He’d just pulled Mingyu inside his dressing room after he’d made sure everyone in it was out for other matters, immediately wrapping his arms around the small of the other’s back as though he were a clingy cat.

But Mingyu smiles, fully loving the attention being showered on him. Readily, he wraps his around Wonwoo’s waist, nuzzling the side of his head. He’s been spending a lot of time with Wonwoo, showing how he loves him, without people actually knowing he does — pathetically so. And though he’d never wanted to think about it at a situation like this, since it makes him greedier than he already is, he knows the wants he’s been suppressing since they started with the production has been consuming him; albeit it is his fault he’s stuck in this situation.

It doesn’t help that the movie centers around the tough love of two province boys, following how their relationship builds, crumbles, and heals throughout the years. It’s not a, identical mirror of Mingyu’s and Wonwoo’s own, yes, but it’s a story filled with so much emotion that it becomes hard to act with Wonwoo like he doesn’t love him the same way his character does; like he doesn’t constantly yearn for him, and have the undying want to protect him.

“We saw each other this morning, love,” he teases, letting out a satisfied hum afterwards. It makes Wonwoo whine gently on his neck as a response, so Mingyu has to stifle his chuckles when he relents to appease him. “But I missed you, too.”

“It’s not the same,” Wonwoo fills, words exact with that of the hollow feeling gnawing in Mingyu’s chest whenever he shows too much during their scenes. Although, Mingyu knows he understands, especially when Wonwoo pulls back and looks up at him with big, expressive eyes that seemingly shines with the weight of the galaxy.

He leans down to press a quick kiss on Wonwoo’s lips. “I know.” And another one more, albeit deeper this time around; one where he swipes his tongue over Wonwoo’s lower lip.

The other melts in the heat, and he softly clutches at the sides of Mingyu’s clothes as though it’s one of the only things anchoring him to reality. When Mingyu pulls away, and carefully observes the — pardon him — positively fucked expression on Wonwoo’s face, he couldn’t stop a smirk from forming on his own.

“Seems like Seungkwan noticed how in love you are with me,” he teases once more, wiggling his brows suggestively, not stopping even when Wonwoo flashes him an indignant look. Well, that, before he scrunches his nose and places a cheeky smile on his pretty face, looking the slightest bit proud.

Wonwoo tilts his head to the left. “I’ve never been exactly subtle about it.” Though it sounds closely like how a question would roll off the tongue, Mingyu knows it’s anything but. And, frankly, he thinks it’s rather sexy, the way Wonwoo’s cranes and bares his neck to him — all completed with a haziness in his darkened eyes.

Mingyu bites his lip when he’s pushed back to the countertop of Wonwoo’s well-lit make-up area, almost tripping when he accidentally steps on the foot of a nearby chair. He hears the other chuckle at the unmanly shriek he lets out, but when he opens his mouth to lovingly chide Wonwoo, he stops short because of the adoring look directed at him.

His mind whirls once more, thoughts consumed and hyper-focused on the man before him, before he leans in again to pepper kisses all over Wonwoo’s face. Swiftly, he wraps both his arms around Wonwoo’s waist and pulls him impossibly closer.

Kissing his left jaw, Mingyu whispers, “Do you think the others noticed too?” feeling rather proud at the idea of establishing the fact that Wonwoo owns him.

“Maybe.” Wonwoo shrugs, hugging back and resting the side of his face on the plane of Mingyu’s shoulder. “Would it be bad if they did?”

It’s more teasing than anything, as Mingyu registers, because he knows Wonwoo knows he isn’t afraid anymore. But, even so, he feels a miniscule level of guilt knock on the side of his chest. And, now, more than ever, all Mingyu wants to do is erase even the smallest fraction of doubt in Wonwoo’s mind.

He’s sure. Maybe more than he’d ever had been and will be with anything in his life.

“Not really,” he says, small but anything but certain. And he thinks, once more, that even if the world turns against the two of them, he’d never stop loving and being brave for Wonwoo. He’d bleed for him if he has to; everything and anything to protect him. “No. Not at all.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu could hear the smile in his word, and if the way Wonwoo hugs him makes him feel like the gods would put everything in their favor, makes him feel like he could come walk inside a whirlwind of fire and come out unscathed, Mingyu believes it — Mingyu knows it’s possible… if Wonwoo’s by his side.

He pulls back and observes Wonwoo’s face.

“Hey. I love you,” he says.

Wonwoo blinks, then smiles. “I love you too.”

—————

A few months ago, when Mingyu finally talked about being ready to announce his and Wonwoo’s relationship, on one of their monthly family outing — where both the Jeons and Kims spend time together be it in their residences or an off-town location — (an idea pitched by Wonwoo’s father during Mingyu’s and Wonwoo’s second year of dating, one that oddly continued without fails), during their very lively dinner, they’d initially decided to do it through a simple article — or even a social media post — as per Wonwoo’s request.

He’d said it would be enough, and that he doesn’t need anything grandiose like a press release or something of the sort, because it wouldn’t matter either way. “Having the world know I love you, and you love me — even if it’s the smallest way possibly — is enough already,” he’d stated  with a smile that night, ethereally illuminated by the hanging lights surrounding their little tent by the shore, as he roamed his eyes around the table filled with their parents and siblings before stopping at Mingyu’s own.

And Mingyu knows that’s true; that Wonwoo wouldn’t ask for more. Hell, he would never doubt how understanding Wonwoo is, how willing he is to bend for Mingyu’s comfort, but he also knows that the love of his life deserves everything he could offer and give. He knows how long he’d waited and how much he’d had to give of himself to keep the two of them under wraps. It’s been difficult, considering they also hid from their managers, so, if anything, Mingyu couldn’t bear the thought of putting so little reverence to Wonwoo’s efforts.

Thus, after filming wrapped, he’d asked permission to both his sets of parents if he could move the reveal on another date than what they’d planned (since they agreed to have a post put up after the movie released, just to test the public’s reaction), and if the change could be kept secret to Wonwoo; though he didn’t tell them exactly when and why. And albeit it was obvious they wanted to ask valid questions, they agreed to trust him with the matter.

Hence why, for a good portion of their days leading up to the special live televised broadcast for their movie’s release, he’d poured his heart and soul in crafting, what he hopes to be, the best coming out moment ever known to mankind. He hadn’t told anybody about it, instead working silently on it on his own whenever his schedule is cleared, or whenever Wonwoo’s out working or asleep.

By the time he’s finished with it, he feels proud — well, as proud as he could get despite being a complete noob at what he’s produced on his own. But his fears wouldn’t matter, even if he’d suffer the brunt of embarrassment, if Wonwoo would love it; if it could help show how much leaps he’d take for the man he loves. Nothing would — just Wonwoo.

—

“Hello! Welcome to Heavenly: Three; Engraved’s special broadcast!” one of the hosts, Kim Ara, a famous gagwoman, greets with genuine liveliness, facing the camera before she moves to regard the other hosts and Mingyu and Wonwoo, along with the other main actors and important staff, who’d been seated in the organized manner of two rows, the main cast in front while the rest at the second. “And please welcome the cast and staff behind the new movie!”

The actual live audience with them in the relatively large production set lets out there hurrahs in a disorganized manner, some simply shrieking wildly while some holding up banners and face cut-outs while cheering on their bias’s name. The spotlight shines brightly before Mingyu’s eyes, and although he feels his heart flush with fullness at the support, he knows the thrumming in his chest is anything but calm when he looks over to Wonwoo beside him, the love of his life who smiles simply at him, foxy eyes crinkled delicately at the sides filled with fondness.

Worry briefly flashes through his thoughts when he realizes they’re in public. For a split second, it clings to him, attempts to startle his confidence, before he roots himself in Wonwoo’s eyes and remembers that he’s not the same boy he used to be — he’s braver now. That’s exactly why he’s doing this… that’s why he wants to welcome the world together with Wonwoo.

So he smiles back; surer; braver. And he looks at him with his unannounced unabashed love while the hosts talk over each other, introductions in tow, and maybe even some few teasing remarks thrown at each other. There’s no point in doubting and taking the longer route anymore, Mingyu thinks.

A brief, lingering, look later, courtesy of Wonwoo, and Mingyu is pulling away to properly do the program with the others, more so determined to execute his master plan. Silently, he clenches his hands, inwardly making a determined face, and breathes.

“I’m sure each and every one of us is oozing with excitement since this may as well be the collaboration of the century! So, without further ado, let’s jump in the programming, shall we?”

Just a little bit more, Mingyu promises, brushing his hand ever so slightly with Wonwoo’s when he turns. It catches the other’s attention, but he only makes a confused, understanding, face. Mingyu doesn’t mind. Instead, he becomes even more resolved to replace the expression with a look of happiness.

—

“Well, we’ve been pretty curious as to how this all had been possible. I mean, this is the first time you two have ever collaborated, right? And people have always speculated you two had this ongoing feud between each other — has anything changed during the time you’d spent together, filming for the movie?” Ara asks, something akin to clear excitement in her eyes while she rakes her vision to and fro Mingyu and Wonwoo.

Despite wanting to answer for the two of them, Mingyu figures he should give the pleasure of answering to Wonwoo; considering how he’s busting at the seams to profess his love to the man just a forearm away from him.

He looks to him, the look of sparkling joy in his eyes unfeigned and unpracticed. “Wonwoo-shi?”

Wonwoo, seemingly caught off-guard by the approach, manages to hide the hitch in his breath as he raises his microphone up to speak. “Uhmm. Well—” he casts a masked look of confusion towards Mingyu before inhaling quickly, then flashing his dazzling smile towards the hosts“—I never hated Mingyu. But I get why people would think that way; we never really interacted or praised each other publicly. However, I’d like to say, at the very least, that Mingyu had always been a good person to me.”

His soft voice carries and Mingyu nods silently, a lopsided grin eating at the side of his face; especially at the sight of Kim Ara’s disbelief.

“Oh! It seems like the others don’t know this as well,” she states, her co-hosts making similar remarks and nodding as a response. “Could it be possible that you two are secretly close friends?” she adds, the lilt in her voice tipping over suspense and intrigue.

Even his co-actors look like they’re anticipating a definitive answer.

Wonwoo shifts in his seat as he glances over to Mingyu, presumably to check over if he’s okay with everything happening thus far. The latter only gifts him a minute nod, along with a reassuring purse of the lips.

“I-In a manner, yes,” finally, Wonwoo replies, a little strain on his otherwise poised flow of speech.

True in every sense of the word, Mingyu is beyond touched at the gesture, and of Wonwoo’s general concern towards him. Back then, if he were still the slightly foolish boy he had been, he would’ve still appreciated and held the concern dear, yes; but now as he is, a braver version in himself, he simply can’t appreciate it and not want to honor it (and all of Wonwoo’s sacrifices) at the same time.

“Mingyu-shi? Would it be okay to ask why you’ve never publicized your friendship with Wonwoo-shi?”

Mingyu looks away from the other man to cast a polite smile on Kang Dongho, another one of the hosts. In a manner befitting of his ultimate resolve, he answers with a smoothness he’d refined with experience. “It’s fine.”

He lets the moment simmer, raking his eyes across the room to witness the curiosity peeking out of every member of their audience before settling to look at something insignificant, feeling oddly flustered when he meets Wonwoo’s expectant gaze.

“Well, I’ve always been apprehensive with it, yes—“ he meets Wonwoo’s eyes once more and finds himself taking purchase at those beautiful dark seas “—and that was mainly because I was scared and insecure with my own circumstance.” A bittersweet smile passes over his features, but Mingyu wipes it away for a hopeful one. “But, now, I feel like I’ve grown a lot more as a person, that now I feel like I can finally stand next to Wonwoo instead of being apart from him.”

“Eh?? What do you mean? A bright star like you shouldn’t be ashamed to call yourself Wonwoo-shi’s friend!”

Mingyu’s chest squeezes at the expected question, bits of the past slipping past his thoughts. However the look on his face doesn’t dim down. At the palpable beat of his heart, he lets his lips loose. “It wasn’t always like that. I’ve always felt the need to do more, and be more, since Wonwoo’s such an amazing person. That’s why.”

The mentioned man, with a slightly panicked look, seems just about ready to jump off his seat to stop the program and call off everything. “Uhm, excuse me, but—”

“Won,” Mingyu lets, swiftly holding Wonwoo back by a gently grasp around his hand, assurance on his relaxed face.

Confused, as like the others witnessing their exchange, he could only choke out a silent, “Yes?”

Mingyu trains his eyes on him, and Wonwoo simply lets the two of them hold each other’s gazes, sitting back down with a small dip. The latter looks like he’d say something else but, after a few seconds of silence, he shuts his lips wordlessly, opting to expect an answer. But he very briefly averts his eyes down on their still linked hands as if in silent question.

At the point of realization, Mingyu covertly thumbs over Wonwoo’s wrist, soft and gentle as if conveying a sweet promise of forever. “It’s okay,” he says, observing the almost indecipherable change in the other’s face.

Still, apprehension continues to remain plastered across Wonwoo’s face, accentuated by the way his brows angle slightly. Mingyu’s hands itch to smooth it away, to brush it softly with the pad of his thumbs, but he very well knows he should contain himself.

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo asks, and he nods.

Letting go of the other’s hand, Mingyu pushes himself up to stand, looking over to the others who could only pointedly gawk at the display he and Wonwoo had made. Despite the half-budded busting nervousness he honestly feels, Mingyu barely contains the chuckle that threateningly claws on his throat at the sight of President Jeon’s bulged eyes.

“I—” he clears his throat for a second “—Can you wait a moment?”

The murmurs that spread throughout the venue is enough to tell of the confusion that had built in the wake of Mingyu’s sudden exit, sounds that, despite being uttered in minimal volume, hammers in his ears like the way his heart does in his chest.

Notwithstanding, Mingyu expertly weaves through backstage traffic and retrieves the relatively huge but intricate bouquet comprised of gardenias ,heliotropes, white carnations, blue hyacinths, blue lilacs, peonies, and roses both reds and whites.

He carries it with so much care in his hands as he signals to the set operator, who had unknowingly agreed to corroborate with his plans the moment she accepted the flash drive he’d entrusted her earlier, to play the video inside, his heart hammering in his chest all the while his stomach churns with a burning intensity as he waits for things to progress.

In just a second’s notice, the large screen behind the cast begins to play the video he’d edited the hell out of.

“Hello, Wonwoo,” himself from the video, in his casual clothes, greats. As expected, the aforementioned man could only gape as he looks at the screen, fixated, before he frantically sets out to search for Mingyu with his eyes.

The latter quickly hides from his sight behind bulky equipment.

“I have something to tell you,” he continues, but the rest of his rambling displayed on screen gets blurred against the real-time thump of his heart.

When the screen fades to black and music starts filtering out of the speakers surrounding the set, Mingyu makes it a point to turn away at the possibly (certainly) cringey cover he’d done of Lionel Ritchie’s ‘Endless Love’; that, and to breathe so he could appease the queasiness he feels from his nerves.

You can do this, man. You can do this! he hypes up, bouncing slightly on his heels, careful not to badly crinkle the crisp, light-colored wrap of the bouquet in his hands, for Wonwoo; for us. He tries not to pay any heed to the curious stares he knows the staff are throwing at him and instead focuses more on getting his bearings straight.

Bag this, Kim Mingyu!

A good chunk of frozen time later and the song fades, along with the instrumental he’d painstakingly recorded on his own. There’s a pregnant silence loitering in the air, and it makes Mingyu nearly gasp for air as he braves himself to step out of the little invisible bubble he’d placed himself in.

Slowly, he slips out from backstage. He’s shaking, the way the people look at him as he does so doesn’t help the burn in his stomach, but he seeks purchase in Wonwoo widened eyes and zones in on how shiny they seem to look.

It certainly helps; it calms down the tidal waves slapping opposite to Mingyu’s resolve. With a lightly faint breath, he speaks.

“Won.” He smiles at the man when he gets half-way, grip on the bouquet subconsciously tightening. But he holds on and continues. “I know we didn’t plan it this way, and I know you didn’t ask for a lot, but I felt like it would be right to do it now, rather than postponing it for another time.”

Mingyu nears and the familiar feeling of the world fading away consumes him again — just like a returning friend. Hi heart does a flip when Wonwoo looks at him with so much emotion as he hands off the bouquet, the tips of their fingers briefly making contact. Electrifying.

“W-What’s happening?” Mingyu registers it, with crystal clearness against the breathless silence enveloping the venue, but it almost falls deaf in his ears from the bomb-like palpitations of his heart.

He breathes, deep and painstaking, and gathers himself. His lips move, he hears himself more than feels his lips move, authentic words falling immediately like a practiced confession of undying love. “First of all, I want to say thank you. For everything; you’ve done for and given to me. Truly, I wouldn’t be here if not because you. The road’s been tough, and you’ve made lots of sacrifices for us — probably even more than I have. Even when you could up and leave, even when I know you were tiring of hiding, you stayed by my side without question.”

“Mingyu—” Mingyu’s knees go weak at the twinkling of Wonwoo’s eyes.

”I know it’s been hard, and I know I hurt you at times despite not wanting to, but thank you for always understanding me and being my pillar and light. For that, I’ll always be and forever be grateful. I know I’d been insecure for so long, and that this would barely repay your efforts but… more than that… I love you… and I want to finally show the world that I do.” Oddly enough, speaking has never felt so difficult. But it may just be the lump lodged in his throat and the wet warmth brimming his eyes; either way, Mingyu eagerly pushes through with intent. “Without insecurity; even with imperfections; I want to do so unabashedly because you deserve it.”

A breathless exhale, an undeniable exhilaration running through his bones, fills the space between the two of them, his eyes laser-focused with a vibrant pink vignette fluffing the edges. Suddenly, Mingyu feels like he could see a vision of the future on Wonwoo’s face — a promise of a lifetime with him.

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever had the chance of meeting, Jeon Wonwoo; maybe even too amazing for me to keep for myself. And, truly, honestly, no words would ever be enough to define how utterly unreal you are.”

The past swirls from dee within his guts, coagulating into something akin to confidence. It beams past Mingyu’s nerves, obliterates each and every one of his senses, when the first of Wonwoo’s tears fall without stop, pretty lips parted as though in anticipating disbelief.

Mingyu steps in closer, closer than he’s ever allowed himself to in public, as if to properly wedge apart the confusion created from years of secrecy. It feels amazing, elating beyond belief, and his chest burns with the prospect of tomorrow.

“I love you more than I could ever put to words. And thank you for loving me just as much, if not more.” He graces a kiss atop Wonwoo’s forehead. “Happy eighth anniversary, love.”

And there it goes, in perfect succession. Strong arms wrap around him so tightly it could be suffocating, a desperation to the other’s contented embrace, before Mingyu is tearing up as he tries to feel for his arms to cage Wonwoo in an equally victorious hug.

“Y-You! I thought you forgot,” Wonwoo says against his ear, clear wetness in his mouth, his words almost a whisper. Mingyu doesn’t reply, instead he tightens his grip around his waist in lieu of an apology, unable to trust his mouth to form any new words.

“I— I—” There’s a smile there, obvious in the gentleness of Wonwoo’s airy stammer, before he settles with, “Happy eighth, Gyu. I love you.” And then he parts, time slim and stretched in the same breath, before he’s pulling Mingyu for a searing kiss.

Mingyu enjoys it, lets the dawn of their liberation and his unfettered joy explode to thousands of butterflies against his ribcage, meeting Wonwoo’s passion and reverence. It’s not their first kiss, but it’s every bit as magical as the first one he’d pressed on to the other during their first night. Lovely, imbued with so much emotion, and nothing to short of perfect.

When they come to it, they’re both panting, and Mingyu is minutely aware that he has something unfinished left to tend to. But, unsurprisingly, as though a fact of the universe, it’s difficult to pull away from the siren grip of Wonwoo’s piercing eyes. Like every other time, he gets lost there — smiling, unquestioningly willing to be a prisoner to their depth.

But then it breaks, because somewhere around them, there’s the cry of, “Kim Mingyu!” from the one and only Jeon Taehan.

Wonwoo chuckles, his eyes crinkling, before he presses a brief kiss on Mingyu’s cheeks, that before pulling away and gingerly taking the long forgotten bouquet from Mingyu’s hold.

“Thank you. I love you,” he mouths.

And Mingyu… Mingyu falls deeper in love, if that’s even possible.

Proudly, he turns to the shell-shocked audience and smiles. It’s silent, anticipatory, a ping dropping could echo freely. “Everyone,” he starts, without his voice jagging at the seams. “I know it’s a little too late to say, but I’m proudly dating the Jeon Wonwoo. Please continue supporting the two of us moving forward.”

The bubble pops. Mayhem ensues.

When Mingyu looks to Wonwoo again, takes his hand and intertwines their fingers, he knows it’s going to be a difficult few weeks from there. But, without question, he knows it’ll be worth it. He’s never been so sure.

—————

Seungkwan is pretty sure he’d just experienced the most intense, most out-of-body, mix of stroke and epileptic shock during the past hour, or he’d been fed some sort of edible drugs without his knowledge. If not the former, then it could be the latter; he’s read somewhere once that the first time taking drugs would always be the most intense.

That must be it — yeah, it must be — because there’s no way Kim Mingyu had just announced himself to be dating the Jeon Wonwoo, his rumored enemy and rival. In absolutely no facet of the reality they live in would that possibly be an established fact.

He’s convinced he had imagined it, the confession, the flowers, Mingyu’s personal video, that entire moment on national TV — them tonguing each other down a live audience (his head aches with a passion thinking about how many reporters and articles the management team will need to deal for that). He knows it should be impossible.

But how — how in the hell —would he be able to stick with that seeing the scene before him?

The Jung Taehan, in all excited fatherly glory, embracing both Mingyu and Wonwoo with tears springing out his eyes and proud words falling easily from his lips. All without his usual stiffness and professionality.

It’s a scene, alright. It’s a moment. And it looks nothing short of genuine and loving, Seungkwan feels like he shouldn’t even be watching from his peripheral. So he doesn’t. He averts his eyes away much like the other staff and actors moving about backstage.

Really, it’s hard to believe. It’s difficult to not feel as though he’d been transported to a whole new universe.

Seungkwan, despite how he prides himself to be an efficient worker, knows he’d probably need a whole week to properly digest the life-changing fact sprung on to him and many others. But maybe, though not quick to believe, as he steals a glance and sees Mingyu pulling Wonwoo for a gentle peck, he could be more quickly convinced that Kim Mingyu and Jeon Wonwoo are in love — and that just might be the truest fact of all.

@min9yu_k ☑️ | 5 mins ago

Happy 8^th anniversary @everyone_woo. I love you. (Also, tell Dad thanks for the picture <3)

💗 3,563,958 Likes 💬 135,045 Comments 🔄 Share

@haerina12gyu | WHAT THE FUCK. LOVE?! DAD?!

↪️ @gyuerismsism | U SPEAK FOR ALL OF US GIRLY.

↪️ @shimanya294.40 | MINGYU OPPA WAE, WAE, WAE!!!

↪️ @fjei_kiwi | MY LIFE WAS A LIE AEEJSIPHPISSPFNVPFIN

↪️ @ningn23 | WONWOO OPPA ARGHHHHH!!!

@ksn002983 | DID I WAKE UP IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE???? BECAUSE ISTG. AND HE SAID DAD. THIS IS SRS.

↪️ @notgyaru.momma | THIS THIS THIS

↪️ @dk1343.11 | BITCH, UPPPPPP!!!!!

↪️ @notgyaru.momma | THEY WERE SO ADORABLE THOUGH?!?!?!?!?! LIKE I AIN’T EVEN MAD BY THIS PROGRESS?!?!?!?

@JINJINIE34.3 | I SWEAR. I DIDN’T SPEND HOURS REPLAYING THEIR KISS. OR MINGYU’S VIDEO

↪️ @honeyhan305 | BITCH, NO SHAME IN THAT

↪️ @3508ngg.d | I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK

↪️ @bot_fgine001 | TONGUING EACH OTHER WAS SUCH A DRMATIC WAY TO END THE FANWARS

↪️ @chaerie143 | GAAAAAH LFJSKFSFLSKHGII **tONGUiNG** HOEEEE

↪️ @faeriadiqu053 | MY NEW REASON TO LIVE

@shiriya | IT’S THE MINWON SHIPPERS TIME TO SHINE

↪️ @baeng5u | ITSG the haters have been awfully quiet lately XDDD

↪️ @dwor4r43mon | AO3 FINNA CRASH SWEAR

↪️ @t4ngy0naj1 | PLSZZZZZZ GIVE ME THE FICS

↪️ @smutwriterxxxXXsd | PLZZZZ

@juwg.456_1 | WHERE R THE HATERS

↪️ @yongyongw04r | DEATH BY OBVIOUS LOVE

↪️ @juwg.456_1 | THEY DIED

↪️ @hatersimror92 | PLSSS IT MUST’VE BEEN SO EMBARRASING T3T

@hanadowl002 | CONGRATULATIONS U GUYS. I LOVE YOU BOTH.

↪️ @thusywhoozy89 | SRSLY I’M LIVING

↪️ @powsikleanwpi96 | THEY’RE THE ICON. THEY’RE THE MOMENT

(

Mingyu chuckles reading at the comments while Wonwoo outright guffaws beside him.

"Watching the madness unfold is so satisfying," Wonwoo says. Mingyu gives him a raised brow but, unabashedly exploiting his weakness, he calms it down by pressing a kiss to his lids. "Come on. Allow me this, love."

Mingyu huffs at that, but it immediately melts to a loose grin. "You know very well I can't say no to you."

That makes Wonwoo's eyes twinkle. "And I, you."

)