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After their first comeback music stage filming, Mingyu was exhausted. After the second, he was delirious. After the third wrapped up, it was an ungodly hour of night when they finally got home. Mingyu felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he splashed water across his face with shaking hands in the bathroom. Eyeliner dripped down his face in melodramatic streaks, and he laughed weakly at himself in the mirror.
As he stepped back out into the dorm, washed and dried, Minghao shuffled past him without a word and locked the door quickly behind him. Mingyu heard the quietest of sniffles muffled by the thin wood, but said nothing. Minghao rejected comfort vehemently, and it was a privacy they had all come to respect.
Mingyu threw on some boxers and shorts, and hesitated just a moment before pulling an oversized sweater over his head and tucking his hands into the sleeves. He grinned to himself and stepped back out into the living room.
“That’s not yours.”
Mingyu stopped in his tracks, hands still clenched around knitted cotton. Jihoon had caught a deer in the headlights, and chuckled to himself from the couch. “That sweater isn’t yours,” Jihoon repeated, cocking his head to the side lazily.
“I’m going to return it, I promise,” Mingyu muttered. He pulled the sleeves back up around his elbows, embarrassed. “I just haven’t gotten the chance to.”
Jihoon sighed, tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch. It almost echoed in the silent dorm; anything other than sleeping at that point was unthinkable. “You miss him, don’t you?”
Mingyu felt tears clouding his vision again, and nodded. He swallowed around the dry knot forming in his throat and said, “Of course I do. We all do. He’s...a very important part of the group.”
Jihoon sighed again, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “Come here, Mingyu.”
Mingyu shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I think I’m just going to grab some water and go to bed, if that’s okay.”
“Mingyu. Come here. ” Jihoon sat with his arms out wide, a familiar smile on his lips. Mingyu gave in, and made his way to the couch. He climbed up onto Jihoon’s lap, his back against the couch cushion and Jihoon’s arm, and his legs curled into his chest. Jihoon placed one hand on his hair and the other around his shins, cradling him in his arms. Jihoon would hold him like this nearly everyday before debut, petting his head and offering him the most gentle quiet Mingyu had ever heard. Now, Mingyu was even taller and it took some artful maneuvering to get himself comfortable. Still, somehow, he always managed to curl his long frame into a tiny ball that fit Jihoon’s lap perfectly.
Jihoon patted his hair and gently massaged his shins, not saying a word. Mingyu had started crying before he had even made it to the couch, and tried very hard not to get any snot or tears on Jihoon’s shirt. He could be courteous when he wanted to be.
“I just,” Mingyu hiccuped, sighing into Jihoon’s chest. “I just miss him a lot, you know? Like he’s my...he’s my best friend. He really is.”
“You can call him whenever you want. I know it’s hard to video call, we haven’t been home very often the past few days.”
“I know that, but it’s not the same. And the only calls we have time for are with everyone, and no offense, hyung, but...I don’t know.”
“I know, Mingyu. And I know he feels the same way. God, every day I come home to a whole new slew of texts. ‘Is Mingyu doing okay? Is he eating enough? He looked so great on the Music Bank stage, tell him that. Is he sleeping? He should be sleeping right now, but his SNS says he’s online.’”
“Why doesn’t he just text me more?” Mingyu pouted.
“Because he’s trying to help you focus,” Jihoon laughed. “Everyone knows you’re hopeless when it comes to Wonwoo, and if he texted you more you’d spend the entire day on your phone and we’d never get anything done.”
Mingyu sniffed. “I’m hopeless without him.”
Jihoon smiled and dropped his hand to rub up and down Mingyu’s back. “Don’t worry,” Jihoon cooed. “Just a little more time and before you know it, it’ll be all eyesmiles and ‘Meanie’ posters and quickie handjobs in the bathroom again.”
Jihoon felt Mingyu’s entire body go still with tension, but kept rubbing his back up and down, up and down. The silence was stifling, but Jihoon let it sit. He knew, he’d known for a long time now, what Mingyu and Wonwoo were up to. There was nothing to hide in the ‘96 line, and Wonwoo had made peace with his sexuality a long time before Mingyu showed up. Jihoon also knew how much the past few weeks were wrecking Mingyu, and he needed him to know he had someone on his side. Someone to talk to. Getting him to start talking, however, was going to take a little pushing.
“What are you talking about, hyung?” Mingyu whispered, and every word trembled.
“I know, Mingyu. About you and Wonwoo,” Jihoon said firmly.
There was a moment in which Jihoon thought Mingyu might not have heard him. But then Mingyu shuddered, his entire body convulsing as new sobs wracked through him all at once. “I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry, hyung. I’m so sorry, sorry, Mom, I’m sorry…”
“ No. ” Jihoon’s voice was so sharp and firm Mingyu almost forgot he was crying and looked up at Jihoon with wide, searching eyes. “No,” Jihoon repeated more quietly as he stilled the anger inside of him. “Don’t you dare apologize. Don’t you dare. None of that. I’m...Mingyu, I’m sorry.”
“What?” Mingyu whispered, his tone so high and small it almost made Jihoon laugh despite it all.
But Jihoon just sniffed and looked away. “God, I’m sorry, Mingyu. I’m sorry that it’s like this.” Jihoon closed his eyes and tried to compose his thoughts. “I’m sorry that you two have to live like this. I’m sorry that you have to hide from everyone, from the others, from society, from your own Goddamn families. Fuck this society, honestly, I am so sorry. I am so sorry that you have to be here, pretending he’s just your friend during a time like this, instead of being with him where you belong. And I can’t even help you. None of us can, even if they knew. I am so sorry that you have to pretend like your love doesn’t even exist.”
If Mingyu was crying before, by now he was bawling, clutching Jihoon’s shirt in his hands, getting all manner of snot and tears and spit across the front of it. Jihoon couldn’t even find it within himself to be mad. He just kept moving his hand across Mingyu’s back, up and down, up and down.
It took a while for Mingyu to calm down, and Jihoon could feel exhaustion clawing at his mind like nails across his temples. But he kept his eyes open, determined not to fall asleep before Mingyu did. Finally, when Mingyu had settled to intermittent sniffles, he asked, “Are you okay?”
MIngyu laughed shortly. “I mean no, not really. But I think I will be.” He looked up at Jihoon with something new in his eyes, a trust so deep and thankful it sucked the breath out of Jihoon’s lungs. “Thank you, hyung.”
Jihoon smiled. “Yeah, of course. I just want you to know that I’m here. I don’t really know a lot about any of this, but I can try.”
“That’s all I need.”
“Good, because I swear to God if you come to me with sex questions I am sending you right over to the American, and you’re going to have explain yourself to Jisoo.”
Mingyu looked frightened for a second but giggled and nodded. Jihoon felt his smile go wider and leaned forward to gently kiss Mingyu on the forehead.
“Hey!” Mingyu pouted, tentative but playful. “That’s for Wonwoo.”
Jihoon rolled his eyes and leaned back against the couch, fully accepting that this was where he was sleeping for the night. “Indulge your hyung, will you? God knows Wonwoo won’t ever let me forget it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What did he tell you? Hyung? Oh come on, I know you’re not asleep yet. You don’t even snore! Hyung! ”