Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mingyu woke up to the loud blare of his alarm clock, the sharp sound echoing through the quiet of his apartment. Normally, anyone would find it annoying—grating, even—but today was different. Today, that sound meant something exciting. Something special.

It was date day.

But not just any date.

Today was Wonwoo’s turn to plan everything.

The thought alone made Mingyu sit up in bed, wide awake in seconds. His heart was already racing with anticipation, his lips tugging into a sleepy grin. For the past several dates, he had been the one to plan and arrange everything—from choosing the restaurant to setting up little surprises, from beach sunsets to café-hopping afternoons. He loved doing it, of course. Spoiling Wonwoo brought him joy that nothing else could match.

But last week, after their late-night ramen date, Wonwoo had turned to him and said with that small and cute smile of his, "Next time, let me take care of it. I want to surprise you for once."

And so here they were.

Mingyu grabbed his phone from the nightstand with a giddy smile and quickly typed out a message, his fingers flying across the screen.

To: my liora

Good morning, Baby!

Just tell me when you're going to fetch me, alright? I'm really excited!

He reread the message once, then again, biting his lower lip with a shy chuckle before pressing send. Anyone reading it could probably hear the excitement humming through every word.

He tossed his phone gently back onto the bed and stretched his arms above his head, his body still warm from sleep. A second later, he hopped out of bed, pulling on a loose white shirt and heading toward the kitchen, humming a tune under his breath.

The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains as he started making a quick breakfast—just toast, scrambled eggs, and a glass of cold milk. Something simple to tide him over until their date. After all, they’d be eating out later, and Wonwoo never let him go hungry on date days.

As he whisked the eggs and flipped the bread on the pan, he found himself smiling again, this time at a thought he couldn’t quite shake off.

This apartment—these rooms, these walls, this kitchen—wouldn't just be his anymore.

Soon, it would be theirs.

Just a few weeks left.

He could already picture it: Wonwoo curled up on the couch reading a book while Mingyu bustled around trying to decide what to cook for dinner, their clothes hanging side by side in the closet, sleepy morning cuddles on weekends, brushing their teeth together half-asleep…

He had persuaded the older one after months of gentle begging, and a little emotional blackmail here and there. “It’s for my peace of mind,” he had told Wonwoo dramatically. “What if something happens and I’m not there to take care of you?”

In truth, he just wanted to be around Wonwoo more. He wanted to spoil him. Serve him. Be the first face he saw in the morning and the last before he slept.

That’s how bad he had it. That’s how whipped he was.

Mingyu leaned against the counter now, buttering his toast slowly, a goofy smile plastered on his face as he imagined what surprise Wonwoo had in store for him today. He didn’t even care where they were going.

As long as he was with Wonwoo, that was all that mattered.

He glanced at the clock—9:03 AM.

Still early, he thought. Just the right amount of time to take things slow.

He brought his plate of breakfast to the small round table in his living room and switched on the television, flipping through channels before settling on a light variety show. The cheerful laughter and over-the-top reactions made him grin a little as he chewed on his buttered toast, sipping from his cold glass of milk.

But the show wasn’t what held his attention. His thoughts kept floating back to Wonwoo—his sleepy face, the sound of his voice in the morning, and the fact that today wasn’t just any ordinary day. They had a date. One that Wonwoo planned himself.

The idea made his stomach flutter with anticipation.

Once he finished eating, he carried the plate and glass back to the sink. As he washed them, he found himself humming quietly—a soft tune that he knew all too well. It was Wonwoo’s favorite song. A mellow, older ballad they once slow danced to in Mingyu’s living room after one too many glasses of wine. He didn’t even notice he was humming until he caught himself smiling like a fool.

“God, I’m so whipped,” he muttered, chuckling as he scrubbed the plate gently.

And it was true.

There were days he’d lie in bed, wide awake at night, just thinking about all the small things he wanted to do for Wonwoo. Cook for him, carry his bag when he was tired, leave sticky notes on his laptop saying things like “You’re doing amazing, babe,” or “Please eat lunch!” in uneven doodled hearts. Sometimes it amazed him how someone like Wonwoo—quiet, observant, subtle—managed to pull him in so deeply without even trying.

When he finished tidying up the kitchen, he wiped his hands on a towel and made his way back to the bedroom, his feet bare against the cold wood floor. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and turned on the screen.

No new messages.

No calls.

Just the previous message he had sent an hour ago, sitting quietly in their conversation thread.

Good morning, Baby!

Just tell me when you're going to fetch me, alright? I’m really excited!

He stared at the screen for a second. Still no reply.

Mingyu tilted his head thoughtfully but didn’t worry. Wonwoo wasn’t the type to text right away in the mornings. He took his time. Probably still in bed. Maybe staring at the ceiling while mentally preparing himself to socialize for the day. Or maybe in the middle of choosing what book to bring for the commute.

Mingyu chuckled to himself and tossed the phone gently back onto the bed.

With that, he stepped into his bathroom to take a shower. The warm water was comforting as it poured over his skin, but his mind was anything but still. He couldn’t stop thinking about where they might be going. What kind of surprise Wonwoo had up his sleeve. He never pegged Wonwoo as the overly romantic type—not in the flashy, dramatic way Mingyu sometimes was—but he had his moments. Quiet, thoughtful, unforgettable moments.

There was that time he gave Mingyu a handmade bookmark with tiny doodles of their memories etched in ink. Or the time he waited outside Mingyu’s office in the rain just to bring him dinner after a long day. Wonwoo’s love wasn’t loud. It was gentle and consistent, always there in the background like his favorite comfort song playing on loop.

After stepping out of the shower, Mingyu wrapped a towel securely around his waist and ran his fingers through his damp hair. Droplets clung to his shoulders as he walked to his closet room, a small space filled with racks of neatly organized clothes—rows of high-end shirts, jackets, and designer shoes lined up like a boutique.

But today, nothing felt good enough.

He opened drawer after drawer, sliding hangers one by one, searching for something charming—no, striking. Something that would make Wonwoo’s jaw drop. But even with all the options in front of him, he couldn’t settle on anything.

He sighed dramatically and leaned his head against the doorframe.

“Why is it so hard to dress up for someone who says I already look perfect?” he muttered under his breath.

The memory came rushing in then. Wonwoo’s soft, low voice echoing in his ears:

"You don’t need to fix yourself just to look godly handsome. You already are."

Mingyu smiled at the thought, but it was accompanied by a small ache in his chest. Because along with those sweet words were the moments when Wonwoo would glance at their reflections and say things like:

"Sometimes I feel like trash beside you. Like I’m ruining the picture."

And that—that—always made Mingyu frown.

He remembered the first time Wonwoo had said it. They were getting ready for Jun and Minghao ‘s wedding, standing in front of the mirror as Mingyu adjusted his tie and complimented Wonwoo’s look. The older boy had laughed, brushing it off, but there was a flicker of genuine self-doubt in his eyes.

Mingyu had been upset for hours after that. How could someone as breathtaking as Wonwoo—his Wonwoo—ever think of himself that way?

To Mingyu, Wonwoo looked like a literal angel, like someone plucked from a dream or maybe carved out of poetry. Soft eyes that turned molten under sunlight, lips that always curved into quiet smiles, and a mind so deep and thoughtful it made every conversation feel like something sacred.

He walked back to the closet and began rummaging again, this time slower, more thoughtful.

He didn’t need to impress Wonwoo with labels or flash. He just wanted to look good because it was Wonwoo. Because he cared. Because he wanted the older man to look at him and feel the same kind of awe Mingyu felt every single time their eyes met.

Eventually, he settled on something simple—a soft cream knit shirt that hugged his chest just right, paired with black trousers and a gold chain he knew Wonwoo liked fiddling with whenever they were close. It was understated, but it felt right.

He glanced at the mirror as he got dressed, adjusting the sleeves and fixing his hair, smiling a little at his reflection. Then, grabbing his phone, he checked again.

Still no message from Wonwoo.

He tapped his foot impatiently, excitement bubbling again now that he was almost ready.

“Where are you taking me, Jeon Wonwoo?” he whispered, lips curled into a grin.

Whatever it was, he was sure it was going to be unforgettable. Because he's with Wonwoo. With him.

Mingyu decided to buy himself some time while waiting for Wonwoo to message him back. He sat on his couch, phone in hand, and opened Instagram—just to distract himself. His feed was filled with vacation photos, food pictures, and selfies of people he barely knew. He double-tapped a few posts without even thinking, his mind elsewhere.

Now and then, he’d glance at the top of the screen, checking for any notifications.

Nothing.

He refreshed his messages again. Still none.

He tried to shake off the unease in his chest. Maybe Wonwoo was just taking longer to get ready. Maybe he got caught up with something at home. Or maybe—Mingyu didn’t even want to finish that thought.

An hour passed.

The clock on the wall read 10:07 AM.

Mingyu’s fingers hovered over his phone screen before finally tapping on Wonwoo’s name in his recent calls. He pressed the dial button and brought the phone to his ear, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor.

Ring...

Ring...

Nothing.

The call rang for several seconds before going to voicemail. Mingyu pulled the phone away and stared at the screen for a second, then tried calling again.

Still no answer.

That’s when the worry really started to creep in.

Wonwoo never ghosted him. Never. Even on his busiest days, he always left a quick message. Even if it was just a “Hold on, I’ll text you in a bit” or a sleepy “Just woke up, I’ll call later.” There was always something.

But today… silence.

Mingyu sat still for a moment, staring blankly at the muted television in front of him. The variety show was still playing—colorful graphics, exaggerated sound effects, people laughing—but it all felt far away now, like static in the background of his rising panic.

He stood up.

Paced a little.

Ran a hand through his now-dried hair.

Then he called again.

And again.

Still nothing.

His chest tightened.

“What if something happened?” he whispered to himself, as if saying it out loud would help him make sense of the panic blooming inside him. “No, no, no… He probably just overslept.”

But even as he said it, his stomach turned.

Wonwoo wasn’t the type to forget plans. Especially not something like this—their date. He had been the one to plan it. He had promised Mingyu a surprise. He sounded so sure. So happy. So ready.

So where was he now?

Mingyu sat back down but couldn’t relax anymore. He tried to text him this time, something light, something that wouldn’t show how his hands were slightly trembling.

To: my liora

Hey baby, are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you. I’m kinda getting worried now.

He stared at the message for a moment before hitting send.

Immediately after, he set the phone down beside him on the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.

He watched the screen.

One minute.

Two.

No reply.

He began to chew at the inside of his cheek, thoughts spiraling.

And with that, Mingyu couldn’t take it anymore.

His heart was pounding painfully in his chest as he jumped up from the couch, nearly knocking over the pillow that had been sitting beside him. He stormed into his bedroom, his wallet, and then reaching out for the keys that were resting on the nightstand.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice shaking as he tried to force down the panic rising inside him.

He ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him, and made a beeline for the stairwell.

The elevator was too slow. It always was.

Four flights of stairs felt like nothing when he was fueled by sheer adrenaline. His breathing grew shallow, but he didn’t stop. He took the steps two at a time, gripping the handrail as he pushed himself forward, ignoring the sting in his legs.

“Please be okay. Please be okay,” he whispered to himself like a prayer.

When he finally burst through the building's exit, the sunlight stung his eyes, but he didn’t stop moving. He unlocked his car and slid into the driver's seat in one fluid motion, jamming the key into the ignition and starting the engine with shaking hands.

He sat for a second.

He needed to breathe.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he bit down on his bottom lip so hard it almost bled. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Then another. He didn’t want to crash on the way to Wonwoo’s place. He had to get there—safe and fast.

The drive felt both painfully long and blindingly fast. The roads blurred past him in a haze of worry and sharp turns. His mind was filled with a thousand thoughts, each worse than the last. What if Wonwoo was hurt? What if he passed out? What if he needed help and no one was there?

He hated this. Hated the helplessness. Hated not knowing.

By the time he pulled up in front of Wonwoo’s condo building, his knuckles were white from how hard he’d been gripping the wheel. He parked haphazardly, not caring if he was crooked or not within the lines. He was already sprinting to the entrance before the car door fully closed.

This time, he used the elevator—he didn’t have the strength left to run again.

The silence inside the elevator was crushing.

His foot tapped nervously against the floor. He clutched his phone tightly, still no new messages, no calls, no signs.

The moment the doors slid open, Mingyu sprinted down the familiar hallway, his sneakers thudding loudly against the floor. He reached Wonwoo’s door and punched in the code with trembling fingers.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Click.

He pushed the door open.

“Wonwoo?” he called out, voice echoing through the quiet condo.

No answer.

“Baby, I’m coming in, okay?”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, eyes scanning the space.

Everything looked normal. The living room was clean, the curtains half-drawn, the air smelling faintly like the lavender diffuser Wonwoo always kept near the shelf. But there was no sound. No movement.

Mingyu's throat tightened.

“Wonwoo?” he said again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

He walked further in, heart hammering.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar.

He pushed it open gently. The bed was made, unused. Neat. Cold.

His breath hitched as he turned toward the bathroom door.

It was closed.

He rushed over and knocked, voice cracking slightly. “Hyung? Are you in there?”

No response.

He tried the knob—it turned easily.

And when he pushed the door open, his breath caught.

Mingyu’s heart sank the moment his eyes fell on the trembling figure curled up on the cold bathroom floor. His whole body moved before his brain could even catch up.

“Wonwoo—!” he choked out as he scrambled toward him, immediately dropping to his knees. The tiles were freezing beneath him, but that was the last thing on his mind.

The sight broke something inside him.

Wonwoo was curled in on himself, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, his forehead resting against them. His thin frame trembled slightly, as if even his own body couldn’t keep itself upright anymore. He looked so small. So fragile.

Mingyu reached out carefully, his voice trembling. “Hey…”

At the sound, Wonwoo slowly lifted his head. His eyes were red, swollen from crying, and his cheeks were damp with fresh tears. When he looked up at Mingyu, there was something raw in his gaze—like shame and exhaustion and pain all wrapped into one.

Mingyu felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Hey…” he repeated, softer now. “Why are you crying, baby?”

Wonwoo didn’t respond. His lips trembled as another sob escaped him, and before he could retreat again, Mingyu reached out and gently pulled him into his arms. The moment their bodies touched, Wonwoo let out a sound—a muffled cry, like he’d been holding everything in for too long.

Mingyu held him tightly, pressing Wonwoo’s head against his chest as he ran a warm, slow hand up and down his back.

“It’s okay… I’m here now, I’m here,” he whispered soothingly, placing a tender kiss against Wonwoo’s temple.

That’s when he felt it.

His lips brushed against his skin—and recoiled slightly.

He was burning.

Mingyu’s arms tightened instinctively as he pulled back just enough to touch Wonwoo’s forehead with the back of his hand. His eyes widened.

“Shit… You’re burning up.” His voice was filled with worry now. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Wonwoo shook his head slightly, burying his face deeper against Mingyu’s chest, voice barely audible. “Didn’t… didn’t want to cancel our date.”

Mingyu's heart cracked.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, hugging him even closer. “You could’ve just told me. Why did you keep this to yourself?”

“I… I wanted today to be special,” Wonwoo mumbled through tears. “You always plan our dates. I wanted to be the one this time. I just wanted to surprise you… I didn’t want to ruin it…”

Mingyu shut his eyes tightly, trying not to cry himself.

This was so Wonwoo—always quiet, always thoughtful, always holding his pain in if it meant making someone else happy. Always carrying too much on his shoulders, and never asking for help.

“Hyung,” he said softly, pulling back enough to cup Wonwoo’s face gently. “You could never ruin anything. You’re already the best part of my day—of every day.”

Wonwoo sniffled, avoiding his gaze, ashamed.

“But I messed up,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I couldn’t even… I couldn’t even get out of bed properly. I thought I’d feel better by now. But I just… I woke up feeling like I got hit by a truck. Then my chest felt tight, and I started crying, and I didn’t even know why.”

Mingyu kissed his forehead again and this time just stayed there a moment, letting his lips linger on Wonwoo’s burning skin.

“You don’t need to do anything to be enough for me, okay?” he whispered, forehead pressed gently against Wonwoo’s. “You don’t need to be strong all the time. Let me take care of you, too.”

Wonwoo’s hands tightened on Mingyu’s shirt, trembling slightly as he finally allowed himself to lean fully into the comfort he’d been needing.

Mingyu gently helped him up from the cold bathroom floor, one arm around his waist, the other steadying him with practiced care. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

Wonwoo nodded weakly.

Mingyu guided him slowly to the bedroom, helping him lie down carefully. He pulled the comforter up to Wonwoo’s chest and tucked him in, then brushed back the damp hair from his forehead with the gentlest touch.

“Have you already eaten anything, Hyung?” Mingyu asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he guided Wonwoo toward the bed.

Wonwoo clung to Mingyu’s arm for balance, his body weak, his steps sluggish. The moment he sat on the edge of the bed, he looked up with hazy, fever-glazed eyes. “N-Not yet,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and fragile. He winced as he pressed a palm against his forehead. “M-My head really hurts…”

Mingyu’s heart cracked again. He crouched in front of him and reached up to gently pinch Wonwoo’s nose in that familiar, affectionate way. “Aigoo, our baby’s really sick today, huh?” he said, attempting to lighten the mood just a little.

Wonwoo sniffled, trying to manage a small smile through the pain.

“Alright,” Mingyu said more seriously, brushing Wonwoo’s damp fringe back and pressing his palm to his forehead again, checking the temperature. “I’ll make you some warm soup, then after that, you have to drink medicine, okay? No protesting this time.”

“Mhm,” Wonwoo nodded weakly, closing his eyes at the soothing touch of Mingyu’s fingers in his hair. “Thank you, Min. And I’m… I’m sorry again.”

Mingyu frowned softly. He leaned in, gently pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes. “Hey,” he murmured, “don’t apologize, okay? It’s not your fault you got sick. It happens. And honestly?” He pulled back and looked into Wonwoo’s eyes with a small smile. “I’m just glad I’m here now. I’d rather be here taking care of you than be anywhere else.”

Wonwoo blinked back the tears threatening to fall again, and this time, they weren’t just from pain or fever—they were from the overwhelming tenderness Mingyu always gave so freely.

“We can still go on our date next time,” Mingyu added, giving his boyfriend’s nose another tiny boop. “But for now, you need to rest, got it? Let me pamper you.”

He leaned down and kissed Wonwoo’s forehead again, this time lingering a little longer before pulling back and tucking the blanket up to his boyfriend’s shoulders. The heat radiating off Wonwoo’s skin had him worrying more by the second, but he didn’t want to show it too much. He needed to be strong—for Wonwoo’s sake.

The older boy looked up at him sleepily, his cheeks flushed pink from the fever, his lips parted just slightly. “You’re really good at this, you know?” he said with a faint smile. “At taking care of people.”

Mingyu chuckled as he stood up, unable to resist reaching down to cup Wonwoo’s cheek and stroke it gently with his thumb. “Well, I only do it for very special people. And you, my dear Jeon Wonwoo, are the most special.”

Wonwoo blinked slowly, too weak to say anything back, but his eyes said enough—full of gratitude, warmth, and love.

“I’ll be back, alright?” Mingyu said softly, already turning to leave the room. He paused at the door, glancing back when he saw Wonwoo nod, blanket tucked under his chin, eyes heavy with sleep but watching Mingyu go like a puppy not wanting to be left alone.

That expression made Mingyu coo out loud. “God, you’re so cute,” he muttered, biting his bottom lip as he fought the urge to run back and pinch his cheeks. “Rest now, baby. I’ll make your soup extra special.”

And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen, his heart full of love and his mind laser-focused on making the soup for his sick baby.

While the soup simmered gently on the stove, the warm aroma of ginger, garlic, and soft-boiled chicken filling the kitchen, Mingyu stood quietly stirring with a focused expression. He was humming softly to himself—one of Wonwoo’s favorite songs, of course—when he suddenly felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind.

He didn’t have to look. He knew that embrace anywhere.

He let out a soft, knowing chuckle. “Baby…” he murmured, amused yet concerned, “you should be in bed.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. He just leaned his forehead against Mingyu’s back, his hot skin pressing against the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt. His grip around Mingyu’s middle tightened slightly, fingers curling gently into his boyfriend’s sweatshirt like he was anchoring himself there.

Mingyu sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the worry swirling in his chest. He reached down and carefully removed Wonwoo’s arms from around him, turning slightly so he could look over his shoulder. “You’re burning up,” he said softly, “and the soup’s still cooking. You shouldn’t be up.”

But Wonwoo only mumbled something into the fabric of Mingyu’s clothes and, stubbornly, clung to him again. Mingyu almost laughed at the clinginess—almost—until he heard Wonwoo speak, his voice soft and sleepy:

“I want to be close to you…”

Mingyu’s heart melted on the spot.

Such a simple sentence, yet it carried so much weight—need, vulnerability, affection. He could feel it in the way Wonwoo was holding him, in the slight tremble of his fingers, in the warmth that wasn't just from the fever. Mingyu swallowed the knot in his throat and gently rubbed slow circles into Wonwoo’s arm.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me with cuteness one day,” he muttered playfully, but there was tenderness in every word. He turned off the stove briefly, placing the wooden spoon down before placing both of his hands over Wonwoo’s that were still latched around his stomach.

“It’s almost done, so I guess I’ll allow this one-time sneak hug pass,” he teased, “but only because you’re sick.”

Wonwoo gave a soft hum of satisfaction, burying his face into Mingyu’s back again like a sleepy koala. Mingyu could feel the heat radiating from his skin, and even though it worried him deeply, he also felt something else—something warm and grounding. Like the universe had narrowed down to this kitchen, this moment, this embrace.

“You know,” Mingyu continued, his voice softer now, “when I imagined us living together… this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Wonwoo chuckled faintly behind him.

“But… it still feels right,” Mingyu whispered.

There was a silence between them, the kind that didn’t feel awkward or empty—but safe, full, and sacred. The only sounds were the quiet bubbling of the soup and the hum of the refrigerator in the background.

After a while, Mingyu reluctantly turned in Wonwoo’s arms so he could face him. He cradled the older boy’s face in his hands, gently brushing his thumbs along Wonwoo’s flushed cheeks.

“You really shouldn’t be standing up like this,” he murmured, forehead leaning against Wonwoo’s. “But you’re not gonna listen, are you?”

Wonwoo smiled, eyes half-lidded. “Not when you’re here…”

Mingyu kissed the tip of his nose before pulling back and sighing fondly. “Alright. You win. But let me feed you properly, okay? Then we’re getting you back in bed.”

“Only if you come with me after,” Wonwoo muttered, like a child bargaining with his favorite parent.

Mingyu chuckled, brushing stray strands of hair from Wonwoo’s forehead. “Deal.”

With that, he guided Wonwoo gently to the kitchen table, grabbing a seat cushion for him to sit more comfortably. He placed a cool hand on Wonwoo’s nape as he walked back to the stove, glancing back every few seconds just to check if his stubborn baby was still okay.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself. Even when sick, Wonwoo found a way to pull closer, to wrap himself around Mingyu like he was a blanket and a lifeline at the same time. And honestly, Mingyu wouldn’t have it any other way.

Right now, he and Wonwoo were lying on the bed, nestled under the soft warmth of the blanket, the afternoon light filtering gently through the curtains. The room was quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft rhythm of their breathing. Wonwoo, freshly bathed and fed, lay snuggled in Mingyu’s arms, his damp hair still smelling faintly of the lavender shampoo he always used.

Mingyu absentmindedly ran his fingers through those familiar soft locks, his other arm wrapped around the smaller’s waist. Every so often, Wonwoo would nuzzle deeper into his chest, like a sleepy cat searching for warmth. His skin still felt a bit warmer than usual, but it had dropped a little thanks to the medicine, soup, and warm bath.

"Is it really fine to you that our date was cancelled today?" Wonwoo’s voice came out small, muffled slightly by Mingyu’s neck, his breath warm against the taller’s skin.

Mingyu paused his fingers for a second before stroking through Wonwoo’s hair again, gently, like a lullaby in motion. He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips against Wonwoo’s forehead in a soft kiss before speaking.

"It’s really, really fine, okay?" Mingyu said sincerely, pulling him in even closer, feeling the slight hitch in the smaller’s breathing. "Even though I was excited too... your health is more important than anything else right now. You’re more important, Hyung."

Wonwoo stayed silent for a moment, as if absorbing every word, before sighing softly.

"But it’s my first time planning our date... You’re always the one who makes the effort, who thinks of everything. I wanted to give that back to you, because... because you deserve it, Min. You always give, and I wanted to be the one giving this time."

His voice cracked a little at the end, and Mingyu felt something twist in his chest. He slowly pulled away just enough to cradle Wonwoo’s face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over the flushed cheeks.

“Hyung,” Mingyu whispered, leaning down a bit so their eyes met. “It means a lot to me, it really does. I know how much effort you put into this. And that already means the world to me. But dates can always be rescheduled. What matters is you—your comfort, your health. I’m happy just being here with you.”

He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Wonwoo’s nose, grinning when the older boy’s nose scrunched slightly in reaction.

Wonwoo smiled faintly, his lips curling up as his eyes filled with a familiar warmth, the kind that always made Mingyu’s heart flutter no matter how many times he saw it.

"You're always saying the right things, huh?" Wonwoo mumbled, blinking away the slight gloss in his eyes.

"Only when it’s about you," Mingyu teased gently.

Wonwoo’s smile grew wider as he leaned in, pressing a light kiss on Mingyu’s collarbone before whispering, “Thank you, Min. Even when the negative thoughts in my head keep bugging me... you’re always here to hush them. Like... you’re my mute button.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, the kind that rumbled in his chest. “A mute button, huh? That’s a new one.”

“You hush them so well,” Wonwoo added, more serious this time. “I love you, Min.”

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around Mingyu like a warm blanket. He smiled and leaned down to meet Wonwoo’s gaze again, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead.

“I love you too, Hyung,” he whispered, before leaning in and pressing his lips softly against Wonwoo’s. The kiss was slow and delicate—like they were rediscovering each other for the first time. It wasn’t rushed, nor was it passionate. It was patient. It was tender. It was theirs.

Just as their lips lingered, Wonwoo suddenly pulled back with a small gasp, his eyes wide and his hands planting themselves firmly on Mingyu’s chest.

Mingyu blinked, confused. “What is it, Hyung?”

“You dummy,” Wonwoo said, pouting in that way that never failed to make Mingyu melt. “You shouldn’t have kissed me! What if you get sick because of it?”

Mingyu chuckled, amused at how seriously Wonwoo was taking it. “You’re the one who kissed my collarbone earlier, though.”

“That’s different!”

“No, it’s not.” Mingyu laughed again, then gently peeled Wonwoo’s hands away from his chest and pulled him closer until their foreheads touched. “If I get sick, I get sick. But I won’t. I’m built like a tank, remember?”

Wonwoo looked at him with narrowed eyes, but there was a hint of fondness there, and Mingyu knew he was losing the battle. The pout remained, but his body was already relaxing again, melting into Mingyu’s hold like he always did.

“You’re always at the gym, that’s why I can’t even move you when you’re being stubborn,” Wonwoo muttered, letting his arms curl around Mingyu’s torso again.

Mingyu grinned. “Exactly. So stop fighting it. Come here. Let’s nap.”

They settled back into their previous position—Mingyu spooning Wonwoo from behind, one arm securely around his waist, the other hand lazily stroking up and down his arm. Wonwoo let out a long sigh, his body slowly giving in to the comfort, the warmth, and the presence of the man he loved.

A few minutes passed in silence. Mingyu thought he’d fallen asleep already, but then Wonwoo murmured sleepily, “Min...”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“When I get better, I want to plan another date. The one I missed today. I want it to be just as special.”

Mingyu smiled against the back of Wonwoo’s neck. “It will be. Because you planned it. And because it’ll be with you.”

Wonwoo gave a tiny nod, his hand blindly reaching for Mingyu’s and intertwining their fingers beneath the blanket.

“I really love you,” he whispered.

“I know,” Mingyu whispered back. “I love you more.”

And with that, both of them slowly drifted off to sleep, the quiet beat of their hearts syncing beneath the layers of soft blankets, in the quiet of a shared space, where love—gentle, forgiving, and warm—was all that remained.