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Yunho’s palms are so sweaty that the steering wheel has slipped from his hands twice in the twenty-minute drive it took to get here. His heart is banging against his ribcage, static jumping across his skin as he wills himself to take deep breaths. It’s a good kind of anxiety he knows, more excitement than anything, but God if it doesn’t feel like the walls of his car as closing in on him.
He’s sitting in the parking lot outside your place, about to be late, but can’t get his legs to move for some reason. This is bound to be one of the best nights of his life, but only if he can get it together. So, in one final attempt to calm his nerves, he makes a cell.
“Yo,” Comes his familiar deep voice through the speakers of Yunho’s car.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Yunho sighs, his fear revealed in the words that come rushing out. “What if I do— or say something wrong? What if I make a joke she doesn’t like— or if I’m awkward, or the restaurant is bad, or she realizes she doesn’t really even like me like that? What if—“
“Woah, woah. Yunho-yah? Please take a deep breath, bro.”
Yunho pauses. Then, listening to Mingi’s words, he inhales a deep breath, holding it for a beat before exhaling it long and slow.
“You breathe?” Mingi checks, waiting for him to hum an affirmative before continuing, “Good. Now, what’s going on? Where are you?”
Despite knowing well where he is, Yunho takes a good look around, hands squeezing the leather steering wheel before answering. “Parked outside her place.”
He hears Mingi laugh, feeling his face grow red as he realizes how ridiculous this is.
“You made it farther than I thought you would, actually,” He snickers. Yunho groans, two seconds away from hanging up.
“I’m on the verge of losing it, and you’re—“
“How long have the two of you been friends?” Mingi interrupts, his tone abruptly growing genuine.
Yunho hesitates, not sure where this is going. “Since the fourth grade.”
“Exactly,” Mingi replies, and Yunho recognizes his tone; it’s the one he uses when he knows he’s right about something or about to prove a point. Most times, he finds it obnoxious, but tonight, he simply focuses on Mingi’s words.
“And how much do you know about each other?”
Yunho thinks about his answer for a moment, mentally going through all the things he knows about you. Your favorite color, your favorite food, your worst fear, how you feel about your mother, what you want to name your first child. And the list goes on. He wonders what he doesn’t know, thinking it’d probably be easier to start there.
Instead, truthfully, he answers, “Everything, just about.”
“Exactly,” He says again, “Both of you know each other’s everything, the good and bad. So if there was something she didn’t like— if you tell bad jokes or are awkward or she doesn’t like you in that way— don’t you think she would’ve run for the hills by now?”
“Hm,” Is all Yunho says, allowing Mingi’s point to wash over him as he leans back against the headrest. He finds his rapid heartbeat slowing once he exhales another pensive, deep breath, his eyes slowly closing with it.
“I’m right and you know it, don’t you?” Mingi gloats, the smile on his face audible in his voice.
“Alright, alright,” Yunho groans, back to wanting to hang up. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“She loves you, man,” He adds, “We’ve all seen it. Just be yourself, that’s what’s worked so far…Somehow.”
He decides to ignore the dig for now, feeling a hundred times better and more than ready to see you. Especially now that he’s officially late.
“You good now?”
The question is simple, but the slight worry in Mingi’s voice has a smile growing on his lips and, before his mind his time to catch up with the fact that he can’t see him, he nods. “Yeah, thanks. I’m all set.”
But then, as a thought pops into his mind that has his heart jumping, he adds, “Actually, one more thing.”
He waits for Mingi’s hum to signal he’s listening, then asks, hesitantly, “Just… what do I say when I see her?”
As stupid as it sounds, this is a genuine concern he has. Because with so many years of friendship behind them, he’s worried that it’ll be harder than usual to make the switch from friends to something more. And his opening words feel crucial. Something flirty but not sleezy, kind but not sappy.
Through the speaker, he hears Mingi breathe a laugh, commenting nothing but a simple, “You’ll know when you see her. Trust me.”
~*~
Song Mingi is nothing if not full of crap. He should’ve known, if not for the smugness to his voice, then for the fact that he hasn’t had a date in literal years. However, Yunho has no one to blame but himself, because the sad fact is he did know and yet still chose to believe Mingi’s words.
So, when you step out from behind the door, looking so extremely breathtaking that his knees go weak and his brain turns to mush, he has no one to blame but himself for his lack of words.
He watches as you give him a once-over of your own, pretty lips turning up at the corners ever so slightly. His stomach stirs, face growing hot, locked in some sort of trance only you can drown him in.
Fortunately, you’ve always been good at filling in his gaps, making up for what he’s lacked. So when you notice his current inability to form even a babble, you run a playful hand over your hip, questioning, “So, what do we think? First date material, no?”
And just like that, he’s broken from his trance, no longer able to resist his body’s craving to touch you as his hand finds the swell of your cheek, gently caressing the softness of your skin and brushing a hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter, almost imperceptibly, and tiny sparks dance in the places his skin meets yours.
If he’d thought it’d been hard to think before, then it was nearly impossible now. Not with your scent washing over him, not with your eyes on his, not with you so close he can almost feel the heat radiating off your body. He’s a goner, with absolutely no hope of return. Not that he’d ever even want to, he hasn’t since the day you introduced yourself to him the first day of the fourth grade.
But with so many thoughts flying through his mind, he can’t settle on what exactly to say to verbalize what he feels. So, instead, he replies, “I think… you’re so beautiful I can’t think straight.”
Your laugh is akin to a melody, your hand coming up to rest on the wrist he has cupping your cheek. Your smile is stunning, eyes shining, and he finds himself wanting to keep doing or saying whatever you need in order to keep seeing that pretty smile of yours. Forever if you’ll let him. He can only hope that tonight will prove to be the start.