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“When the interviewer today asked if we would still be friends if we weren’t idols, and Jihoon hyung said no, I actually had to stop myself from falling over,” Mingyu said, laughing. They were getting ready for bed after a busy day of interviews and then a meal together which had run late.
Wonwoo returned a small laugh. “Yeah. He didn’t even hesitate, either.”
“Well, he can think what he wants to think, but it’s his loss.” He believes fully that he could have charmed Jihoon and the other members no matter how they met, but the question did still rattle in his brain a little before he had told the interview a confident yes.
And then Wonwoo asks it, and he can’t stop looking for his eyes in the pitch black of their room.
Because now it’s a question Mingyu can’t stop thinking about, actually.
It’s simple, it doesn’t mean that much at all, and he’s heard that same questions in a variety of different forms from a variety of different people throughout his career.
Yet, coming from Wonwoo, in the dark of their room, in the middle of the night?
He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Would we, though? Be friends, I mean.”
Maybe the fact that the question has always unsettled him a little is the problem. Because it begs so many other questions, such as but not limited to:
Do we even really like each other? Or have we just been forced to get along for so long that we’re just used to each other? Do we ever really want to spend time together, or are we just doing it for the sake of the group? Do all of those moments between us mean anything, or is it just for face? For the fans? Is this feeling in my chest really fondness, or is it just familiarity?
If we disbanded, would we still eat together? Talk to each other?Love each other?
Would we still sing together?
Mingyu is well aware that they are known for having good chemistry within the group, known for being close with each other by fans and the industry alike. He’s heard it before, from other idols even, how much they envy it.
I’m just overthinking, he tells himself when he can’t sleep that night, when he has run the question around his mind in circles for hours, when the music from Wonwoo’s game has died out and been replaced with soft snores.
He tries to sleep, but it’s hard. Because they are different, really. Sometimes they don’t get along at all. Sometimes he does feel like there’s a million miles in between them, and no matter how much running, he’ll never find his way home.
It makes him think back to when he and Wonwoo were trainees, and they gravitated towards each other so naturally, huddled in the dark corners of the practice room where it felt as if not even the cameras or the staff or the other boys were able to see them. Not the way they were seeing each other.
But things changed. In some ways good, some bad, but no matter what, things changed. They got older, they grew, they went through everything, came out again, and then went through it all many more.
And in the deepest parts of himself, Mingyu knows why the question is bothering him so much. Because with everyone else, he can say it doesn’t matter, that he loves the people in his life here and now.
But with Wonwoo, he wants to love him no matter where they are, who they are, or how they find each other.
He wants to love Wonwoo in every world, in every way, and in every life that his could have become.
He wants to know that he they would still love each other even if they weren’t sleeping in beds next to each other every night. Even if they hadn’t spent the last eleven years of their lives together. Even if they hadn’t grown together.
But he doesn’t know. And with the way he couldn’t meet Mingyu’s eyes, Wonwoo didn’t know either.
He gets one hour of sleep before Wonwoo wakes him up that morning, complaining like he always does about Mingyu’s obnoxious alarms.
“Hyung, we don’t have any schedule until, like, three. Why couldn’t you have let me sleep long? Why?” He groans, swatting at the hand that shook him awake.
“Because I’m hungry, Mingyu. Please make me eggs.” And he’s sure that Wonwoo is aware how hard it is for him to say no.
He crawls out of bed after a few minutes and finds Wonwoo in front of their coffee machine, pushing buttons blindly in a way that tips off how exhausted he is too.
It’s so early, Mingyu realizes, with the way the sky is pale with fog and the dorm is covered in silence. It’s just them awake, then. He sets the eggs in front of Wonwoo and sits down with coffee, watching Wonwoo pick at the eggs silently.
“You were so hungry that you had to wake me up at ass o’clock, and now you’re barely eating. What’s up?” Mingyu tries to hide the ways he contemplates every movement that Wonwoo makes, tries to make out what he’s going to say next.
But it’s hard to try to understand Wonwoo, and it’s even harder to know him.
“It’s just,” Wonwoo starts, still looking down at his plate. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” Mingyu watches him struggle to find his words.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about what I said, about us being friends. And it’s weird, because I’ve never cared about it before, and it’s not like I haven’t thought about it either. It was just, when I thought about it with you, and I thought about us…I don’t know.”
Wonwoo sighs. “It’s stupid, sorry. I’m just tired.”
No, Mingyu wants to say. It’s been bothering me too. More than bothering. It kept me up all night. I can’t stop thinking about it, and I can’t stop thinking about you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met. Because, no matter what, no matter how,
“I’m in love with you.”