Work Text:
+ 1
Minghao sighed dramatically. Maybe too dramatically, for someone sitting in fourth period music theory. He scribbled down notes onto his iPad, thoughts occasionally drifting to…
“Hao,” Junhui whispered (loudly), “Hao! Hey, did you get what Mr. Kye said? I didn’t hear.”
Speak of the devil.
Minghao now sighed even more dramatically, maybe not dramatic enough for someone sitting in fourth period music theory and Wen Junhui sitting, like, too close for comfort.
He slumped forward, forehead hitting the cool wood of the table. He slid his iPad over to Junhui, who smiled appreciatively (at the back of Minghao’s head) and scrolled through the writing.
Junhui placed the iPad down and scooted his chair even closer than he already was to Minghao, placing a hand on the nape of the brunette’s neck, tapping his fingers lightly. “Hey, sit up. He’s looking at us.”
Minghao begrudgingly sat up, face warm from Junhui’s touches. If Junhui noticed how red his ears were, he was kind enough not to mention it.
Their knees bumped. Junhui’s legs are too long, Minghao thought, propping his own legs onto Junhui’s under the desk, anyway.
“Your legs are heavy,” Junhui teased, pinching Minghao’s thigh through his jeans.
“Ow!” Minghao hissed, punching Junhui’s bicep. He clutched his arm dramatically, “Ouch! Hao! That fucking hurt!”
”You started it!” Minghao whispered.
They quickly separated after Mr. Kye gave them a questioning look. Well screw you too, Mr. Kye. I didn’t even like having my legs over Junhui’s lap that much, anyway.
The bell rang, dismissing them to lunch break. Saved by the bell, Minghao thought. Junhui watched as he packed up his stuff, motioning he’d wait outside the door.
Minghao quickly caught up with Junhui, clutching the hem of Junhui’s jacket. Junhui wrapped his arm around Minghao’s shoulder, putting his weight onto Minghao’s side.
“Ugh,” Junhui groaned, “I’m so fucking hungry. And I had no idea what Kye was talking about, did you?”
Minghao struggled under Junhui’s weight, “Hey, get off me, asshole! And yes, you would know what was going on too if you paid any attention.”
Junhui laughed, voice nice and silky. Snap outta it, Hao. They stopped in front of the garden bench, Junhui finally unwrapping his arm from around Minghao to sit down and pull a pack of gum from his bag.
Minghao plopped himself next to him, close enough for their thighs to touch. He might've missed the warmth of him, just a little, but only because it’s cold out, he told himself, unconvincingly.
“You want one?” he asked, pulling out a stick towards Minghao, offering.
Minghao shook his head. Junhui shrugged, unwrapping it and popping the stick into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.
Minghao made an annoyed face, “Can you chew any louder?” he whined, bringing a hand up to flick at Junhui’s forehead.
“Ow!” Junhui exclaimed, clutching the spot with dramatic flair, “why are you so violent today? Did you not meditate this morning? Kids… don’t know how to respect their elders..”
Minghao rolled his eyes so far back Junhui thought they would fall right out. ”You’re only a year older than me, uncle. Didn’t you say you were hungry, anyway? Here,” Minghao sighed, shoving a pastry at Junhui’s abdomen.
Junhui inched his face closer, chewing even more annoyingly and bumping his forehead onto Minghao’s.
“Hey, I can chew gum whenever I like. God forbid a guy want minty fresh breath. And don’t call me uncle.”
Ugh. This loser.
But Minghao’s breathing hitched, anyway. At this vicinity, he could see every imperfection Junhui did not have. The slope of his nose, the mole right above mouth, his lips… He was treading into dangerous territory.
If I moved, just a touch closer…
“…inghao? You okay? Violent and spacey today, I see,” Junhui laughed, dropping his head onto Minghao’s shoulder.
Minghao blinked once, then twice. “Yeah, okay. Just- just eat your bread before I take it back,” he said, thoughts still hazy.
“Hm?” Junhui hummed, lowering his line of vision into his lap and remembering he had a perfectly good bun to eat. He lit up, discarding his gum and biting into the soft, warm pastry.
Minghao turned away, blushing. When Junhui asked, it was because the cold was making his cheeks red. And only because it was cold. That’s all.
Junhui didn’t mention how the sun was coming out.
+ 2
“Haoooo, pleaseeeeeeee? It’ll be fiiiiine!” Junhui begged, wrapping his arms around Minghao’s waist to lift him up momentarily.
Minghao squeaked, like genuinely. Squeaked. In the middle of the convenience store ice cream aisle at eight P.M.
“Ge. No. I’m not trying whatever ‘Hokey Pokey’ is with you,” he retaliated, picking up a matcha bar and sliding the freezer shut.
Junhui whined, not letting go. Minghao could feel his heartbeat race quicker every passing second.
“Why not? What if it’s good?” Junhui said, finally releasing Minghao to pick up the small carton of ‘Hokey Pokey’. He inspected the packaging closer, intently reading the ingredient’s list. If he could put this much effort into reading music sheets, maybe he’d do better in Mr. Kye’s class.
Junhui pointed his finger at the small text on the cup. “Here, it says it’s popular in New Zealand! It’s foreign, Hao, isn’t that cool?”
“Dude. If you want to try it so badly, just get it.”
“Well, I don’t wanna try it if you don’t wanna try it with me.”
Minghao groaned. “Fine, I’ll try it with you. Now hurry up, my mom’s expecting me in, like, thirty minutes.”
Junhui beamed, taking Minghao’s matcha bar and quickly paying at the register. Minghao watched him scurry. If I knew saying that would’ve gotten him to hurry, I would’ve said so before we even walked in.
Junhui made his way back to Minghao as he was stepping outside, handing him his ice cream and linking arms as they walked down the street.
“Okay,” Junhui said, “are you ready?”
Minghao raised an eyebrow, “It’s only ice cream. But ready when you are.”
Junhui popped open the lid and took a small scoop before shoving it into his mouth, tapping the spoon against the rim of the cup, humming thoughtfully. Probably further analyzing the taste like some food professional.
“Well?” Minghao asked, intrigued, “how is it?”
Junhui shrugged, “It’s not bad.” He took another scoop before directing it to Minghao’s lips.
“Same spoon?” Minghao questioned.
It was no big deal for them, usually. They’d shared utensils and straws since they were kids, often forgoing two spoons to share one. No crazy occurrence.
Except, Minghao’s huge fucking crush on Junhui kinda changed that. For, well, five fucking years now.
“Uh, yeah?” Junhui laughed, “we share all the time. Here comes the airplane, Hao!”
Minghao sighed, “You’re so weird,” before taking the bite anyway. He chewed at the toffee bits thoughtlessly.
“Bleh. ‘S too sweet,” he complained, nibbling the corners of his own matcha bar to cleanse his palette.
Junhui smirked, “Because my saliva was on it? Aww, Hao!” he joked, laughing menacingly.
Minghao quickly unlinked arms with him to shove him (lightly)(read: harshly).
What the fuck was that????????????????????
??????????????????
“Ugh! Jun!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Junhui laughed, clearly not meaning it at all, stumbling ahead to avoid Minghao’s attacks.
Minghao felt his cheeks go red. Having a crush on Wen Junhui was not for the weak.
Junhui slowed, turning on his heel to look at Minghao. He looked unreal like this, even under the unforgiving light of the street lamp, he thought.
Attractive people. They bother me.
Actually, only one attractive person bothers me.
It’s not like Minghao was completely unfortunate looking either, but ugh. (He was not unfortunate looking at all, and he knew it. But seriously, next to Jun? Yeah, he may as well be one with the monkeys.)
He waited for Minghao to catch up before putting his arm around Minghao’s shoulder, nuzzling his cheek onto the crown of Minghao’s head.
“Okay, I’m sorry. For real, this time. Can I have a bite?” he asked, not waiting before biting down into the ice cream bar, shivering from the cold in his mouth and the air.
Minghao groaned. “Seriously, you’re insufferable.”
Junhui tightened his hold, “You love me anyway.”
Minghao’s ears heated up. Oh, how right he was.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
… But it would be nice to know what Junhui’s saliva tasted like. Just for science, obviously.
“What was that?” Junhui turned to look at him, head tilted in curiousity.
Shoot. Had he said that out loud?
“More like whispered it. But now I wanna know. What was it?” he asked, shaking the younger’s shoulders vigorously, hoping to get an answer out of him. Minghao blinked profusely. No way in hell did Junhui need to know any of his stupid, stupid thoughts.
Those were between him and God. He wasn’t even religious!
”… Nothing. Must’ve been the wind.”
Really, really strong wind.
“Stop answering my questions so vaguely, man.”
+ 3
God, Minghao groaned, who keeps fucking knocking?
He reluctantly dragged himself off his warm, cozy, comfortable bed, where he had been rotting for the past… three hours into the cold, biting air of his apartment. Was it five already? Huh.
Minghao swung open the apartment door, ready to chew out an annoying neighbor, only to see—
Standing in front of him, in all his ridiculously handsome glory, was Junhui.
“Ge?” Minghao asked, moving aside so Junhui could step in. “What are you doing here?”
Junhui made himself comfortable on the couch, lying face down.
“I got bored. And I missed you,” he said casually.
Don’t say things like that. You’ll make me think I have a chance.
“Wait,” Minghao replied, the gears in his head turning, “don’t you have that theatre hang out right now?”
Junhui was apart of their university’s theatre, due to his previous childhood acting and also because he wanted to get into the acting scene again. Because of course his face was made for the spotlight.
“Uh, yeah,” Junhui said, clearly uncaring. His voice was muffled from shoving his face into a throw pillow, “but I missed you, so I came here. Priorities, amirite?”
The notion of Minghao being a priority over his own theatre’s whatever-they’re-doing was sweet, and really doing funny things to his heartbeat, but he couldn’t help and remember…
“Jun…” Minghao questioned, placing himself on the couch, close enough for Junhui to wiggle up and lay his head on Minghao’s lap, “isn’t it… at your place?”
He looked up, propping his chin onto Minghao’s thigh like he only just realized.
“Oh. Oh yeah. But it’s whatever, they’ll manage without me.”
Minghao raised an eyebrow, probably more concerned than Junhui was. “You left them at your place unsupervised?”
“What? No! Of course not,” Junhui rolled onto his back, staring fondly up at Minghao, “I left Soonyoung with them. And Seungkwan. They’ll probably start a fight when it’s late and everyone will leave out of fear.”
Minghao combed through Junhui’s hair absentmindedly. Soft.
“But anyway,” Junhui continued, “I’m here now. Let’s watch that one movie you’ve been talking about. The Shadow’s Edge, right?”
Minghao’s eyebrows raised. Had he talked about it? He only really did when the movie came out a couple months ago. His heart did a couple flips knowing Junhui was actually listening. A couple more knowing that Junhui actually remembered.
”Oh! Um, yeah, okay,” Minghao rushed over his words, “okay. I’ll get some blankets and snacks. Just turn the TV on.”
He practically jumped up and ran into the kitchen, before smacked his forehead against the wall. Really, Minghao? Oh-um-yeah-okay?
He stood there for a couple seconds, wallowing in his own shame before getting up to retrieve the items.
When he came back, the movie was already playing, Junhui sprawled like a starfish on the carpet.
Strange guy, he thought, but the fondness in his eyes contradicted him. It was an affectionate thought, okay?
He may be weird, but he’s my weirdo.
Not really his (unfortunate), but oh well. We all want what we can’t have, a hopeless thought.
He laid down next to Junhui, resting his head on the other’s bicep, half-hazardly tossing the snacks on the couch and throwing a blanket over the both of them.
“Come here. Closer,” Junhui whispered, too intimately for Minghao’s jelly heart. He shuffled closer anyway, enough for Junhui to roll onto his side and wrap his arms around him, just like they’d done countless of times before.
Minghao could get used to this. Living like this, with Junhui’s warmth right on him, together for the rest of their lives. He wishes. He wishes he were able to keep Junhui just like this, with him only. But he’s not selfish enough to keep Junhui from having a lover of his own just because Minghao can’t move on.
It’s unrealistic. A dream. But, oh, is it a lovely one.
Minghao peers up at Junhui through his eyelashes, simply to admire him again, like he’d done so a million, maybe even a billion times before.
He can feel himself drifting away, into a world where all his fantasies come true. In a world where Junhui would like to kiss him, too.
But past kissing, in a world Junhui loves him, too. More than just platonically.
But Minghao will take Junhui’s friendship over Junhui’s nothing.
He’s thought makes him sleepy, eyes closed, head on Junhui’s chest, the soft beating of it as Minghao’s lullaby.
And maybe, he’s delirious enough to think Junhui has planted a kiss on his forehead. It’s a silly thought, but Minghao hums in contentment, finger hooked on Junhui’s sweater a little tighter.
This is nice. Even if I’m going to fall asleep on the fucking carpet.
But I’m falling asleep on the carpet with Jun cradling me, so it’s okay. Better than okay.
He doesn’t stay awake long enough to hear whatever Junhui murmurs into his hair.
+ 4
Junhui is good at Just Dance.
Like, really good. Good enough to hand Minghao’s ass to him every round.
Minghao’s been dancing since he could walk.
Well, Junhui has too. But he’s not important right nie.
Just Dance is not “just a game” here. He’s fighting for his life, controller in his hand, sweat making his hair stick to the back of his neck. The sensation is uncomfortable enough for him to consider getting a haircut.
“Yes!” Junhui exclaims, jumping up in excitement when the screen claims him as MVP, “I win! Again~. Do you wanna play another? Let’s do another. Black Mamba ‘kay?”
He doesn’t wait for Minghao to respond before he’s clicking the controls and starts readying up for Black Mamba.
They’ve been going at it for three hours. Minghao has low iron anemia. He cannot physically (or mentally) keep up with Junhui’s nonstop energy.
“Fine,” Minghao huffs anyway, “but I’m winning this time.”
What is Minghao, if not a fool for Junhui first?
He’d walk the earth barefoot if Junhui asked him to.
But Junhui wouldn’t. He’s too nice. So he settles for playing Just Dance the nth time, even if his legs might give out from under him.
Junhui laughs, stretching dramatically, lifting his arms up and leaning from side to side. “You said that the past six rounds.”
“I mean it. For real this time!”
Minghao springs up lightly, tying his hair up to escape the tingling feeling of hair nipping at his neck. It’s grown long now, touching the tips of his shoulders, not unlike a mullet. Long enough to be put into a short ponytail.
Junhui staggers for a moment. The falter in his movement allows Minghao to get a headstart, racking up a few points.
“Hey!” Junhui squawks, realizing he’s been staring seconds too long. “You cheated!”
“Did not!” Minghao retaliates childishly, eyes not moving from the screen, “you got distracted by thin air, it’s not my fault!”
Junhui quickly gets back into motion. However, it seems his movements are more sluggish now, bordering almost on careless, even sloppy.
When the song ends, Minghao drops to the rug, breathing heavy. He looks up once to see who won.
It’s as jarring as a slap to the face when he sees the winner. Him, finally.
He jolts up, vision swimming with how quickly he stood. Junhui quickly grabs onto his waist for stability while he’s watching the screen play the song recap.
“I won! I fuckin’ told you I’d win this time!”
He makes the fatal mistake of glancing up at Junhui, who’s watching him with a fond look. He swallows slowly.
If he had a dollar every time he admired Junhui, he’s be a billionaire, probably. Even with his skin glistening with sweat and hair sticking to his face, close enough for Minghao to see his pores, Minghao doesn’t think he’s ever loved anyone more.
“Yeah,” Junhui says tiredly, “you won.”
His voice is breathless and low and makes Minghao’s stomach do funny things. He looks down before he’s no longer able to mask the redness on his ears as just flush from over exerting himself.
Junhui let’s go of him (boo), plops himself down on the couch, and slides down the cushions. “I could go again.”
Minghao makes himself comfortable on the rug again, shutting his eyes. “I can’t. I’m tired. You’re a fucking beast and winning takes a lot out of me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Junhui agrees, sitting up to look at Minghao, relaxed on the floor. “Whatever you say.”
He watches the steady pace of Minghao’s breathing before sliding down to the floor to rest his entire body weight on the other. Minghao groans, but makes no move to get him off.
“You’re heavy,” Minghao complains, eyes still shut.
Junhui pinches his cheek, more playful than hurtful, “Shut up. It’s only ‘cause you’re built like the wind could blow you away.”
Minghao yanks on a strand of Junhui’s hair. “You’re also sweaty.”
“Well,” Junhui says, fanning himself, “winning takes a lot out of me or whatever.”
Minghao is going to throttle him.
Or kiss him.
Maybe both. If he can get away with it.
+ 5
Minghao’s kitchen had never known peace.
Well, it had. When it wasn’t eleven at night, with another stupidly handsome man in it.
Right. That stupidly handsome man was his best friend.
Fortunately or not.
Stop thinking about how handsome he is, Hao!
Seriously, he needs a life.
… And probably more friends.
“Alright,” Junhui breathed, scrolling through a recipe on his phone, his specs sliding down the perfect curve of his nose. “We got this. It cannot be that hard to make sugar cookies.”
Minghao occupied the space next to him. “That’s what you said when we were making ceramics and you lost your ring in the clay.”
Junhui wrapped his arm around Minghao’s shoulders, only to put him in a headlock whilst scrolling through the article.
“Hey! That’s different. And it wasn’t my fault! Not all of us can be exceptionally skilled in the arts.”
(It was his fault. He forgot he was wearing it.)
“Okay! Okay,” Minghao yelped, swatting Junhui’s forearm. “Let go of me!”
Junhui finally lets up after ruffling Minghao’s hair, before opening the fridge. He scoffs lightly.
“Why are there so many vegetables in here?”
Minghao peers over his shoulder. “Duh. How do you think I didn’t gain the freshman fifteen? And they’re good for you, dumbass.”
Junhui takes out the ingredients needed from the fridge, butter and eggs. “Right. I forgot you’re a health nut. Now where’s your flour?”
“Down there, somewhere,” Minghao says, pointing to the bottom of the pantry where a few bags lie. “Dunno. My arms are weak, so if you find it, you pick it up.”
“They’re literally not, but fine,” Junhui scoffs. He rummages through the bags on the floor before dragging one out.
He frowns at the label. “It’s expired. And unopened.”
“Well,” Minghao shrugs, “disappointed but not surprised. I don’t even remember when I bought it. I don’t even cook.”
Junhui springs up. His bangs cover his eyeglasses before he shoves them away. Cute. “Well. No worries. I’ll go buy some!”
Minghao squints at him. “It’s eleven. Is the market open?”
“Uh, yeah,” Junhui says as he shrugs on his coat, “it’s twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll be back in a jiffy. Don’t miss me too much!” He calls out, shutting the door. Minghao sighs once tiredly, then huffs affectionately. He pads around the kitchen before sitting down at the table.
He watched the clock tick. It wouldn’t be long until Junhui came back, hopefully.
That is, unless Junhui decides to leave the city or something. Possibly the country. Why would he even leave the country? he reasons with himself.
Well, maybe he’s going back to China. Maybe he’s tired of Korea. Maybe he’s tired of me?
Holy shit, what if he gets tired of me??? What if he’s already tired of me??? Has he noticed how long I look at him??? Does he know the intent behind that look??? Does he secretly hate me??? What if he’s homophobic and a straight dudebro???
They’re all irrational, he knows. Junhui and him have been stuck by the glue since they were in elementary. And Minghao’s been out as queer for years. Hell, Junhui’s been out of the closet longer than he has. Dumbass.
He slaps himself back to reality. It works, but now he’s rubbing his cheek. That fucking hurt.
The door creaks open ominously. Those door hinges need to be greased.
“I’m back!” Junhui calls out, drawing out the “a”. He’s half carrying, half dragging a sack of flour on the floor.
Minghao raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you strong enough to lift it up?”
Junhui groans, letting go of the sack and letting it drop onto the floor. “I carried it from the market and back home. Cut me some slack.”
Home, Minghao thinks. Junhui doesn’t even live here. But he could make a house a home with Junhui. That would be really nice.
“Haooooooo,” Junhui sing-songs, “you’re out of it again. Too much thought in that pretty head of yours.”
He pokes Minghao’s head twice, as if to make a point.
“Alright, let’s make some cookies!” Junhui claps his hands and turns back to the sack of flour, like that one term hadn’t just detonated a bomb in Minghao’s heart.
He thinks I’m pretty, Minghao thinks, face hot with the thought of it. This isn’t new, by any means. Junhui’s told Minghao he’s pretty since the beginning of time.
Junhui’s probably right. He’s been thinking too much. Time to make some cookies.
“Hey!” Minghao yelps, after Junhui’s beating of the wet ingredients splattered on him. “Be gentle!”
“I’m being gentle! You’re just standing too close!” Junhui barks back, slowing down his mixing anyways.
“I’m literally across the counter!”
“Yeah,” Junhui says, stopping for a moment to shove him lightly, “go be helpful and mix the dry ingredients!”
Minghao pouts, turning around and crossing his arms in retaliation. “Ugh, fine!”
He can hear Junhui laugh softly behind him, rounding the counter to annoyingly rest his chin on Minghao’s shoulder.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Really, I am! But mix the dry ingredients, pleaseee, Baobei? Please? Pleaaaaseeeee?”
Fuck. That name did things to him. He needed Jun to stop using it,
(He really didn’t, but whatever. Let Minghao cope.)
“Don’t call me that, dumbass,” Minghao said, holds the bowl of dry ingredients and turning his head towards Junhui to lock eyes with him. Their height difference wasn’t big, but now Junhui was a little below eye level with him. He felt a blush creeping onto his face, uninvited. “What would your future husband think of you calling me that?”
They both gaze at the other for a while, the hum of traffic and the ticking clock loud outliers in the room. Minghao feels his heart stop as Junhui seems to inch closer to his face.
The older tilts his head slightly and grins, almost cheshire-like. All pearly white teeth and mischievous eyes.
“I don’t know, you tell me. What do you think he’d say, Hao?”
Minghao whips his head away before he does something rash, eyes wide and burning with the intensity of feeling behind them.
He might do something stupid if Junhui keeps looking at him like… that. Like he wants him too. Like he’d kiss him if given the chance.
Minghao would let him, if he asked.
But he doesn’t. And Minghao doesn’t offer.
Gosh, maybe he really does need to stop thinking.
+ 1
The two of them were seated side by side on the floor, backs up by Minghao’s bed. There was a shared plate of sugar cookies between them— still warm, a little (aka a lot) ugly, but “not too bad,” Junhui had said earlier.
Minghao clicked his tongue, grimacing. He could feel the sugar settle behind his teeth. He needs to brush them. And go to sleep.
“Hao,” Junhui whispers, voice loud in the quiet of night. He turned to look at Minghao with a look so serious Minghao’s eyebrows furrowed worriedly.
“What?”
Junhui paused for a beat. Minghao blinked nervously. What’s wrong with this guy?
“How are the cookies?” Junhui asked, pausing at the beginning of his sentence like he was supposed to ask something else, reaching to snag another. He had probably already eaten at least six and a half.
The recipe made a dozen. Minghao had eaten half of one and given the rest to Junhui.
Minghao heaved a sigh of relief, “Jun. Why didn’t you just start with that? You had me freaked out for a second.”
Junhui pursed his lips cutely. “Meh. Maybe that was the intention. And you still didn’t answer.”
“They’re fine. Too sweet, for my taste.”
Junhui laughed, taking another bite of his cookie. “Like I said, you’re such a health nut. It won’t kill you to have something sweet every now and then.”
“Hey!” Minghao quipped back, “I can have sweets! I just don’t like them. There’s a difference. And it’s not my fault I want to live to a hundred.”
“Okay, okay, Doctor Hansol V. Chwe.”
Junhui blinked at his half eaten cookie, placing it back down on the plate. “I think I’ve had too much.”
Minghao scoffed, “Yeah. No shit. You ate like six.”
“Six and a half.”
“Same thing.”
Junhui swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. Minghao didn’t mean to watch, he just did.
He slowly lifted his head to meet Minghao’s eyes again. He watched for a second. Two. Three.
“Hao.” Junhui breathed out again. He sounded tired. And sick. He better not throw up on my floor or some shit.
“Do you…” he started, almost hesitantly.
Minghao held his breath. He tilted his head tentatively, encouraging Junhui to go on. He didn’t know what Junhui was going to ask, but it sounded serious. And scary. Minghao almost didn’t want to know.
“Do you…”
If Junhui wasn’t insanely perfect and flawless and amazing and also Minghao’s best friend, he probably would’ve cursed the guy out by now. He was this close to just yelling at him to just, “Spit it out, dipshit!”
“Do you…” he trailed on. Minghao could practically hear his heartbeat banging against his ribs like a bird in a cage. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous, he just was.
Junhui cleared his throat, opening his— Minghao’s, water bottle, and taking a swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and hugged his knees to his chest.
Whatever Junhui was trying to say was clearly stressing him out.
“Hey,” Minghao started, “you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. You could just tell me in the morning. Well. It’s three A.M. but, like. At noon.”
When Junhui didn’t respond, Minghao pushed away the plate of cookies to scooch closer. They were pressed side to side, Minghao propping his chin on Junhui’s shoulder.
“Ge. Seriously. You don’t have to tell me, but you’re kind of freaking me out here.”
Junhui turned to look at Minghao, reaching out to softly brush away a stray hair on the bridge of his nose. Minghao’s breathing hitched at the contact, the graze of Junhui’s finger against his skin.
“Do you,” Junhui said, a little more confidently this time. “Like me?”
Time stopped then. Minghao’s eyebrows were locked in a raise, his eyes hazy and unfocused.
What?
How did he know?
Why??? Did he know?
Just as Minghao was about to bullshit something about how Junhui was crazy, he continued—
“Wait. I probably could’ve said that better. Shit. Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Do you like me, too?”
Too.
Too. As in. Do you, also like me?
Yes, Minghao knows what “too” means. He’s not a dumbass.
But in this context?
Wen Junhui, likes me? Xu Minghao?
What the fuck am I talking about?
What the fuck is HE talking about???
“…What?” Minghao coughed out. He would’ve choked on his own saliva had Junhui not been right in front of him. Quite literally, centimeters away from his face.
Junhui faltered for a moment, looking down at where their sides met. However, he quickly gained confidence again, whipping his head up quick enough to nearly knock into Minghao’s.
“I said,” Junhui said, continuing to elaborate although Minghao absolutely did not need it. Was he trying to tell Minghao or himself? Geez.
“Do you like me, too? Say yes. Please say yes. Not that I’m forcing you. But I’ve liked you for such a long fucking time I might actually die if I wait another day without saying it.”
Jesus. This guy was a real piece of work. A work of art, yes, but also just like he was grown in a petri dish or some shit.
“Hao…” Junhui trailed off, “please answer. Say something. Anything. I really don’t care. Yes, no, shut the fuck up Junhui I’m thinking, anything. Did I make this awkward? Shit. Sorry. I couldn’t help it. I had to say it. Really. It was eating me alive. Am I making this worse? Should I stop talking? I probably should.”
God, Minghao thought. He’s such a fucking loser. Has he mentioned just how much of a loser Junhui is?
“I…” Minghao’s throat went dry. What was he even supposed to say in this situation?
Yeah, Minghao liked Junhui. A lot. A shit fucking ton. Enough that it weighed on his ribs stiff and heavy every day.
But he had never expected Junhui to like him back. Every fake scenario or situation, he had never accounted for Junhui confessing his feelings first, if at all.
He had never even thought of confessing to Junhui. He was perfectly happy being miserable his entire life if it meant Junhui would hold the title of his best friend, at least.
Then, Junhui leaned in. He waited for Minghao to back away, to shove him off, to do anything. When Minghao sat there frozen, Junhui took the first step. He promptly placed his lips over Minghao’s, a quick peck, then a second, like he couldn’t get enough, before peeling himself off.
“Um,” Junhui started, “Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Not without your consent, anyway. Fuck. I’m really sorry. But I’d also like to hear an answer from you, even if it is a rejection. I could probably use the closure.”
Please. Be quiet. Before I shut you up myself.
Instead of answering, Minghao promptly leaned in, fingers tugging at Junhui’s collar to bring him closer, and slotting his lips right onto the other’s mole-adorned ones.
Time seemed to slow in that moment, while Minghao’s heart started to race. The only sensation was Junhui’s mouth against his, the huge fucking grin Junhui was sporting (that Minghao could absolutely feel), the butterflies in his own tummy, the floaty feeling in his body, Junhui’s hand cradling his cheek tying him back to Earth, all Junhui, Junhui, Junhui.
Finally, Minghao thought, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.
There was still frosting on Junhui’s lips, making the kiss softer and sweeter and— okay, he’s getting side tracked. But it didn’t matter anymore, nothing did.
When they finally pulled away, both their lips were swollen and cheeks blushed. While Minghao’s breathing was deep and a little ragged, Junhui looked like he just won the fucking Super Bowl.
“Holy shit,” Junhui breathed excitedly, half giggling. Fully grown man squealing over his pretty crush kiss him. “Is that a yes?”
Minghao rolled his eyes fondly, “I just kissed you, dumbass. What do you think the answer is?”
“Am I a good kisser?” Junhui asked. Minghao couldn’t tell if he was joking.
However, Junhui was a strange guy. A hot one, yeah, but still odd. He was probably serious.
“You’re okay,” Minghao joked, “it’s fine. You can practice.”
Junhui laughed, “With you?”
“Duh. You’re crazy if you thought I meant you could go and kiss someone else after you just kissed me.”
“You kissed me first, actually.”
Minghao flicked Junhui’s bicep repeatedly, only stopping when Junhui let out a string of Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I am! Ow!’s. He slumped his body weight onto the taller, who let him without complaint.
“Then,” Junhui continued, shuffling to wrap his arm around Minghao’s shoulders, “will you… um. Will you be my boyfriend? Wait. Can I be your boyfriend?”
Minghao let his eyes flutter shut, melting into Junhui’s grasp. “It’s one. Ask me in the morning.”
“It is morning. Pleaseee, Hao?,” Junhui pleaded.
Minghao simply laughed and nuzzled closer. “Ask me in the afternoon.”
Gosh. Minghao was really fucking good at putting up this nonchalant act. Good enough to surprise himself. If he didn’t have any sense of pride he’d probably be at Junhui’s feet, clinging to the hem of his pants and crying from joy or some shit.
He might.
He won’t.
Really!
“Fine,” Junhui said, accepting defeat. “But, you will say yes later, right? If I show up with flowers and everything? Promise?”
“I was going to say yes anyway. But don’t ask me right now. It’s not romantic enough.”
“Should I serenade you from below a palace balcony instead, then?” Junhui joked. Minghao felt his face heat up, burrowing himself into Junhui’s side.
They let themselves sit in silence, side by side, soaking in the new revelation of their own feelings.
Is this utopia?, Minghao wonders, smiling stupidly with the thought. He feels the events of what just happened blanket his body. A comfortable weight, much like a warm hug.
Wait— no. That’s just Junhui’s arm. It is a hug.
Minghao feels sleep almost take him. Key word, almost, when he hears Junhui take his phone out of his pocket…
“I’m hungry,” Junhui complained, scrolling through some delivery app. “That was stressful. Very fruitful, but stressful.”
Minghao peeked an eye open, almost getting whiplash from how quickly the topics changed. He looked at him unimpressed. “Dude. Do you think about anything other than food?”
Jun scoffed, mock-offended. “Hey! Don’t call me dude. I’m your boyfriend now! And yes, I think about other things. I think about you more.”
The statement was so, so corny. Corny enough for Minghao to let the fact that Junhui just called him his boyfriend slide. They weren’t official.
Not yet, anyway.
Okay, and maybe Minghao thought it was cute. even the corny part.
… Especially the corny part. So what if he was smiling like a fucking idiot?
Junhui didn’t need to know that.
“Okay, well, I’m ordering chicken. I’ll get you some too. And it’s not gonna be Jollibee because I have PTSD.”
Minghao sighed (dramatically. Maybe too dramatically, for someone sitting on his bedroom floor, right next to his not-boyfriend).
“Is that a dreamy sigh?” Junhui asked hopefully, squeezing his arm around Minghao a smidge tighter. His smile was so fucking cute Minghao wanted to burst at the seams of his existence.
“You know it’s not.”
(It was.)