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Seungcheol scans the wine aisle for what feels like the twentieth time, cursing both his terrible memory and Mingyu’s stubbornness. He can’t for the life of him remember what the bottle looks like, although it would be much more helpful if he could at least have the name. A glance at his phone tells him he has less than 20 minutes before when Mingyu asked him to be home by, and he realizes he’s probably going to return empty handed. Meanwhile, Hyunjin has been running circles around the store for the last half an hour and is absolutely going to pass out in the car before dinner.
It’s the night before Mingyu’s birthday, and for some bizarre reason adhered to Mingyu Logic, Mingyu has requested to make dinner. Seungcheol agreed, hesitantly, before offering to pick up the wine and dessert. He’d decided to try and find the wine Mingyu always buys for them, their favorite, even though he doesn’t know the name. Because Mingyu refuses to tell him.
It started, Seungcheol thinks , as a joke.
“You’ve bought this one before, right?” Seungcheol says, examining the now empty wine bottle from where he leans against the arm of the couch. Mingyu hums from the kitchen, placing the glasses in the sink. “‘S nice, maybe my favorite that you’ve gotten.” He squints at the bottle, trying to decipher the words. “I can’t read the label, what’s the name?”
Mingyu rounds the couch and rather suddenly snatches the bottle out of his hands, hugging it to his chest with a tiny, drunken pout. “You don’t get to know,” he replies, petulantly. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, more endeared than anything.
“And why not?”
“ Because , if I don’t tell you, then you’ll never know. Then you can never leave me ever because then you won’t be able to have the wine,” Mingyu says, squeezing the wine bottle tighter in his arms, nodding to himself as if agreeing with his own statement.
Seungcheol can’t help but laugh incredulously. If anyone had said the same thing, he would’ve found it absolutely ridiculous. But it’s Mingyu, and it’s such a Mingyu thing to say. Especially a wine drunk Mingyu.
“You’re so silly,” Seungcheol says, rising to his knees on the couch so he can lean forward and cup Mingyu’s cheeks in his palms. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Not leave?” Mingyu suggests. Seungcheol laughs again.
“Silly baby, if anything you’re stuck with me . Try to get even one foot out the door and you’ll have me grabbing onto one arm and Hyunjin grabbing onto the other. And Taeyang would have his teeth at your pant leg.”
Mingyu’s pout only deepens at that. “I’d never leave Hyunjinnie.”
Seungcheol scoffs, affronted. “So, what, you’d leave me?”
“ No ,” Mingyu asserts, “but I’d never leave Hyunjinnie.”
Seungcheol smiles, fondly, carding his fingers through Mingyu’s bangs gently, watching as Mingyu mindlessly leans into the touch. “Okay, silly, now come sit down so we can finish the movie.”
“‘M gonna go hide the bottle first.”
At that point, Seungcheol’d just expected it to be a drunk, silly, possessive Mingyu thing. But when they’d woken up the next morning:
“Baby, what’s the name of the wine we had last night?” Seungcheol asks, nonchalantly, hoping Mingyu forgot the conversation as he cuts up Hyunjin’s apple slices.
Mingyu’s eyes narrow. “Said I wasn’t going to tell you.”
Seungcheol groans. “You’re a little ridiculous, you know that, right?”
With a shrug, Mingyu puts a plate of kimchi jeon in front of Hyunjin with a glass of chocolate milk, clearly not intending to respond.
And it is true. Mingyu is ridiculous, only because he feels so much. He felt so much for Seungcheol before they got together that he went ahead and convinced himself Seungcheol had no feelings for him and isolated himself for weeks. He feels so much for Seungcheol now that just about every night before bed he asks Seungcheol to tell him just how much he loves him, granted it’s partly just because he enjoys to hear it, but Seungcheol knows he needs that reassurance.
As if there were a universe where Seungcheol could ever not love Mingyu. Mingyu with his gentle brown eyes and encouraging smile, with a resolve so strong he nearly burns with the desire to be good for the world. With a heart he’d never tried to learn how to shield, so open for anyone and everyone. One may consider it a vice but Seungcheol thinks it’s always been Mingyu’s greatest strength, He wouldn’t admit this to anyone, never to Mingyu and certainly never to Jeonghan, but he thinks he fell for Mingyu right after that first night. For Mingyu who looked so surprised to be treated with such affection, to be told such earnest things. Seungcheol hadn’t even meant to let half of those things leave his thoughts, it was as if he couldn’t help it.
It nearly broke his heart when Mingyu hadn’t texted him afterwards. He’d found his hope renewed when he walked into Hyunjin’s first day of school to find the very man he’d been dreaming and daydreaming of tirelessly since standing at the front of the classroom, then quickly shattered again when Mingyu emphasized that they shouldn’t pursue a relationship.
And yet, Mingyu found his way into their life anyway, perhaps fatefully, Seungcheol would like to think. He was always there, a welcome, warm presence by Seungcheol’s side, and then suddenly, he became a pillar for Seungcheol to lean on. Layers of loneliness Seungcheol hadn’t even known existed were absolved, and with every one Mingyu peeled back, Seungcheol fell deeper.
And yet, Mingyu couldn’t be his, and it was okay, for the most part. Mingyu seemed okay, Hyunjin was happy, and Seungcheol was trying to date.
(Key word trying, because no one was Mingyu. It only took him two dates with Joshua to realize that maybe he’d never be able to date anyone who wasn’t Mingyu.)
It was okay until he brought Joshua to the apartment and he watched Mingyu fall apart and disappear quicker than he could hold onto him. Seungcheol had never felt that way, the desperation to fix, to care for, to love . With the last glimpse of Mingyu he caught before he ran out the door, a thousand and a half confessions came to the tip of Seungcheol’s tongue, begging to be set free.
And yet, Mingyu found his way back into their lives and Seungcheol knew this time he was ready to hold on. Hold on to this ridiculous boy, who loves his ridiculous son like his own, who fits into their ridiculous life so perfectly it feels unreal most days.
Mingyu’s ridiculous, but Seungcheol always finds it endearing. To Seungcheol, nearly everything Mingyu does is endearing. It’s why he sits across the table now, smiling dopily over at him even though he’s just been denied information as silly as the name of a wine for an even sillier reason.
“Mingoo, it’s not good to keep secrets,” Hyunjin scolds, milk dripping down his chin. “You said so.”
“Do as I say, not as I do,” Mingyu replies, pinching Hyunjin’s nose affectionately. Hyunjin scrunches up his nose although it’s simply on principle, because he smiles at the attention afterwards.
Jeonghan said once how he finds it incredibly amusing that both Choi father and son are just as infatuated with Mingyu. Seungcheol pointedly did not respond, instead turned his attention to where Mingyu was running circles around the living room with Hyunjin on his back, Hyunjin grabbing onto two tufts of his slightly long hair like reins and giggling wildly. Jeonghan snorted in response.
Presently, Seungcheol sighs, grabbing a dessert wine from the bottom shelf that he’s bought before and hurrying through the aisles of the store to make sure Hyunjin hasn’t ruined anything that he’s going to have to pay for. He takes the boy in hand and quickly pays for the wine, feeling more frustrated than flattered when he’s asked for his ID.
Halfway through the ride home, Seungcheol realizes he forgot the cake.
“ Shit ,” he groans, slamming his head down on the steering wheel.
“Appa, no swearing,” Hyunjin calls from the backseat, groggily, because if there’s one thing about that kid, he’s going to nag. Seungcheol needs to stop letting Seungkwan babysit.
The apartment smells heavenly when they walk in, as expected. Mingyu emerges from the kitchen as Seungcheol is reminding Hyunjin to put his shoes back on the rack while Taeyang runs circles around them excitedly, holding a large bowl of fried rice. He’s outdone himself. For his own birthday. Meanwhile Seungcheol didn’t get the right wine and couldn’t even get a cake. He’s awful.
Mingyu’s changed into a pretty lilac sweater and a pair of blue jeans. He looks cozy, he looks at home, and Seungcheol loves him the most like this. Somehow, it makes him feel worse.
“What’s got you pouting like that?” Mingyu comments, amusedly. Seungcheol scowls. He’s definitely not pouting .
“Appa forgot the cake,” Hyunjin supplies, skipping over to the dining table to let Mingyu swoop him up into his arms, happily resting his head in the crook of Mingyu’s neck. Seungcheol’s frown only deepens at that.
“It’s not like you were reminding me,” Seungcheol replies, realizing he probably sounds even younger than Hyunjin.
“I’m not the one with the money,” Hyunjin retorts. And, yeah, no more Seungkwan’s for at least a month. Maybe two.
Mingyu just laughs, padding over to the doorway with Hyunjin still in his arms, leaning down ever so slightly to place a chaste, warm kiss to Seungcheol’s forehead.
“It’s okay, hyung, it’s not even my birthday today. We can have cake tomorrow. Maybe we can have something else tonight.”
Seungcheol gasps in fake awe, leaning forward to cover Hyunjin’s ears. “With my child in your arms? Have you no shame?” His stomach twists at the thought, though, as it always does when presented with the possibility of touching Mingyu, even after the countless times he has. It never gets any less special, and it never will.
Once again, Mingyu only laughs in response, throwing his head back with it before jerking it towards the dining room. “C’mon, dinner’s ready.”
Dinner, of course, is spectacular. Mingyu’s prepared numerous entrees complete with side dishes and sauces and even a stew. He even made a small dish for Taeyang, who eats happily at the corner of the table, even more so as Hyunjin sneaks him pieces of chicken under the table where he thinks Seungcheol and Mingyu can’t see him. Seungcheol’s wondered if perhaps he’s gotten the month wrong and thinks it’s the day before Seungcheol’s birthday, not his.
“Why’d you want to make dinner tonight, baby? I mean it is your birthday. I should’ve cooked for yo-”
“ No ,” both Hyunjin and Mingyu say in unison, so insistently that this time Seungcheol knows he’s pouting.
“You’re both mean. I’m getting better!”
“Sure, Appa,” Hyunjin mutters, shoving another piece of chicken into his mouth. His greatest enemy: his own son. Who would’ve thought?
Mingyu giggles, reaching around the table to pinch lightly at Seungcheol’s cheek. “I know you are, hyung. I guess I like to do things for other people on my birthday. I wouldn’t be who I am without them, so it’s a way to show my gratitude. I always cooked for my family, then my roommates, then my friends on the night before my birthday.”
Seungcheol doesn’t even care that it’s pathetic that tears rise to his eyes. Mingyu says it all so simply, but he doesn’t even realize how good he is. How lovely it is to think that way, to care about the people around him so deeply. To be so grateful, and so earnestly so. Seungcheol thinks there’s no one in the world who deserves to be loved as much as Mingyu does. He’ll try his damn hardest in this lifetime to give as much of that love to him as he can.
“Will you still let us give you a present, Mingoo?” Hyunjin asks, with wide, hopeful eyes because he’s the one who picked out the paintbrush set and has practically been bouncing off the walls waiting for April 6th just so he can give it to Mingyu.
Mingyu grins, ruffling Hyunjin’s hair. “If it makes you happy, of course you can.”
Hyunjin smiles toothily, settling back into his chair with a pleased little expression. Mingyu watches him with such fondness that Seungcheol nearly melts into the floor. Every day he thinks it’s impossible to feel luckier for what he has, and every day he is proven wrong.
They all clean up the table together, Hyunjin dutifully taking up his role as dish dryer, which he’s now able to do without dropping a single plate. They’re both very proud. Afterwards, the three of them huddle on the couch and Seungcheol reaches for the remote to open Netflix to search for something to watch until Hyunjin falls asleep. Taeyang settles peacefully by Seungcheol’s side, curled up into the cushion and Seungcheol rests a hand placatingly in the fur on his head.
“Princess and the Frog!” Hyunjin requests, joyfully. Seungcheol begins to type it into the search bar when Hyunjin suddenly glances over at Mingyu, guiltilty. “Wait, it’s Mingoo’s birthday, Mingoo, what do you want to watch?”
Mingyu offers Hyunjin a fond smile and shakes his head affectionately. “Whatever Hyunjinnie wants to watch is fine with me.”
Hyunjin’s lips twist in disappointment, casting his eyes to the side pensively. After a few moments, his expression dissolves into joy once again and he jumps up excitedly, right onto Seungcheol’s right arm, pulling a groan out of him. “A Star is Born!”
Mingyu’s favorite movie. Warmth blooms in Seungcheol’s chest, even more so when he looks over at Mingyu who’s looking at Hyunjin like he were made of gold. Mingyu pulls down Hyunjin into his arms, pressing a kiss into his hair and squeezing him tightly.
They stay like that as the movie plays until Hyunjin falls asleep in Mingyu’s arms, hand gripping onto his t-shirt, looking like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Seungcheol understands the feeling.
“I’ll be back,” Mingyu mouths, hoisting Hyunjin up and carrying him down the hall into his bedroom. Taeyang follows, tiny paws padding across the floor, ready to take his position in the bed beneath Hyunjin’s. Seungcheol pauses the movie, taking the time to head to the kitchen and grab the wine and two glasses. He grimaces at the bottle, which, obviously hasn’t done anything wrong, but Seungcheol needs something to blame besides his boyfriend.
Mingyu returns as Seungcheol’s uncorking the wine. “Ooh, that’s the one you got a few weeks ago, right?”
Seungcheol hums, pouring out two glasses and handing one to Mingyu before they both head back to the couch, replaying the movie. Seungcheol sits first and Mingyu right beside him, practically in his lap but upright enough so he doesn’t choke on the wine. Although he can’t see Mingyu’s face like this, Seungcheol doesn’t mind because he’s still able to card his fingers through Mingyu’s hair.
“How’re you feeling? Ready to turn a year older?” Seungcheol asks, casually. Mingyu snorts.
“I don’t know, it starts to all feel the same after a certain age, doesn’t it?” Mingyu asks. Seungcheol shrugs, he can’t deny it. “I’m just happy to be here with you and Hyunjinnie, to celebrate with you this year. I don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but I’m always so grateful for the way you let me into your life and your home. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.”
Seungcheol stifles a small noise akin to a whimper, hiding it in Mingyu’s hair where he presses a gentle kiss, then another one for good measure.
“I couldn’t imagine a life now without you. Thank you for coming into our life, Mingyu-yah. You’re one of two of the best things to ever happen to me. There’s nothing that makes me happier than celebrating your birthday with you,” Seungcheol says, earnestly.
He learned these things from Mingyu: how to love so openly and unapologetically, how to show it, how to say it. Mingyu had to relearn it right alongside him, and they’ve reached this wonderful point of wearing their hearts on their sleeves with no fear, allowing themselves to be enveloped in the warm embrace of a shared love. It wasn’t easy, and it certainly isn’t easy to maintain, but they’re learning how to make it easier. Day by day, side by side.
“Love you, hyung,” Mingyu whispers, wiggling closer into Seungcheol’s hold. Seungcheol smiles, wrapping an arm around Mingyu’s front.
“I love you too, so much more than you could ever know,” Seungcheol responds.
They sit in silence watching the movie for some time after that. Seungcheol still can’t see Mingyu’s face, but he knows Mingyu’s mouthing along the dialogue. Seungcheol is too, at some parts. They’ve watched this too many times. Soon, they finish the entire wine bottle and Seungcheol leans around Mingyu to set his glass on the floor beside the couch, mentally reminding himself that it’s there so he doesn’t drunkenly knock it over later in the night.
“That was yummy. Good choice, hyung,” Mingyu says, pleased that he’s now able to properly rest most of his back against Seungcheol’s chest.
“Could’ve got our favorite if you would tell me the name,” Seungcheol then adds. Mingyu sighs.
“You know I can’t do that.”
At this point, Seungcheol thinks Mingyu doesn’t give two shits about his original reason anymore. He’s just stubborn, and he’ll stick to something even he doesn’t have a shred of logic left to attach to it. To most, it’s ridiculous. To Seungcheol, it’s ridiculous and endearing.
“You’re ridiculous,” Seungcheol says, softly, before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Mingyu’s head, rendering his statement useless. Mingyu huffs, turning his head to the side ever so slightly to look up at Seungcheol through his eyelashes.
“You love me, though,” he says, tone saccharine sweet, expecting an eyeroll or some sarcastic reply. Instead, Seungcheol, feeling severely Mingyu starved even though they’ve been laying here for the last two hours practically glued together, brushes a strand of hair from Mingyu’s face gently and leans in to kiss him just as gently.
Mingyu makes a small noise in surprise but kisses back eagerly, twisting his body around properly and leaning up to wrap his arms around Seungcheol’s shoulders. Seungcheol takes the opportunity to wrap his hands around the backs of Mingyu’s thighs, pulling him properly into his lap before moving one hand to Mingyu’s waist under the sweater and the other to his cheek.
It’s always so incredibly satisfying how easy Mingyu falls apart in his arms with nothing but a few calculated nips to his neck and sweet nothings whispered against the shell of his ear. Seungcheol knows him so well, too well, and that thought is exhilarating. He’d never considered himself the possessive type, but he can’t deny the tiny, dark pleasure that swirls deep in his stomach at the thought of being the only one to have Mingyu like this for the rest of their lives.
Or, so he hopes. The little ring box is practically catching dust in the back bin of Hyunjin’s closet, considering he’d bought it months ago, but he and Mingyu had only been dating officially for eight months at that point. It would be foolish, borderline insane to throw something like that on him, no matter how bad Seungcheol wanted to. Wants to. One day, he promises himself, when they’re ready. Seungcheol will wait, for Mingyu he’ll always wait. And perhaps he’s naive, perhaps he’ll get his heart broken in this process, but he’d really like to think Mingyu’s not going anywhere anytime soon.
It feels like they have all the time in the world. Especially when Mingyu’s in Seungcheol’s arms like this, kissing him so insistently as if there’s nothing he’d rather do more, holding onto him so tight as if he’s trying to meld them together.
“Stay with me,” Seungcheol whispers, against the corner of Mingyu’s mouth. Mingyu breathes out a small laugh, turning his head just a hair to catch Seungcheol’s lips in a small kiss.
“I’m not going anywhere, hyung. Trust me,” Mingyu says.
“I do,” Seungcheol assures, and he surprises himself with not only how quickly he replies but with how much he means it. He trusts Mingyu. He trusts Mingyu to stay, he trusts Mingyu to love his child, he trusts Mingyu with his heart, he trusts Mingyu.
Instead of responding, Mingyu leans down, pressing soft kisses down the line of Seungcheol’s neck. Once he reaches the base, an attempt at a kiss suddenly dissolves into a loud, open mouthed yawn against the skin, causing Seungcheol to jolt back at the sensation. He looks down at Mingyu, who smacks his lips and blinks twice, clearly in exhaustion, before meeting Seungcheol’s eyes guiltily. Seungcheol, of course, is nothing but fond.
“You always tire yourself out when you cook,” Seungcheol says, softly, kissing Mingyu’s forehead before pulling him up to his feet. “Up, let’s go to bed.”
Mingyu pouts. “But. Dessert.”
Seungcheol laughs, kissing him once again just because he can. “We can have dessert twice tomorrow.”
Despite his sulking and protests and attempts to continue to seduce Seungcheol as he gets him ready for bed, Mingyu’s out like a light the second his head hits the pillow. Seungcheol shakes his head to himself from where he stands at the side of the bed, leaning forward to kiss Mingyu’s forehead.
“Happy birthday, love,” he whispers, noticing the clock has just flashed to 12:00 before pulling aside the covers to climb in beside Mingyu. Wrapping his arms around Mingyu’s torso, Seungcheol settles into the bed, enveloped with a scent combination Mingyu’s faint baby powder lotion, wine and Hyunjin’s favorite toy as of late, Play Doh. He smiles to himself, strangely comforted by it. Home is what it smells like, he thinks, right before he lets it lull him to sleep.