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Mingyu was a little sad when he came back home that January 26th. He’d had a great night; the first three concerts he’d done with Seungcheol had been a complete success, and to celebrate, the two of them had gone out to dinner with a few other members and some close staff. The table had been full of laughter, glasses clinking together, excited comments replaying every single moment on stage, hands squeezing their shoulders with pride. But even so, even while he smiled and nodded along to everything, part of his attention kept drifting to that empty space—the imaginary chair where Wonwoo would’ve been sitting, listening quietly, laughing under his breath, watching everything with those attentive eyes that seemed to take in every little detail.
Because Wonwoo was missing. He was missing because right now he wasn’t being an idol at all; military service had forced him to become just an ordinary civilian, away from the spotlight. Something he hadn’t completely avoided until now, since he’d still been appearing here and there in public with friends and things like that—casual photos, makeup-free walks, comfy clothes, normal schedules that for anyone else would be insignificant, but for them felt like an entirely different world. And even though Mingyu was happy to see him breathe a little bit of normality, it also made the distance feel more tangible, more real, harder to ignore.
And on top of that, his responsibilities during military service as an office worker sometimes completely prevented him from being in the same place at the same time as his group members. There were days when there was just no way to line things up, not even if they both wanted to, not even if they planned ahead. The schedules were stubborn, immovable, indifferent to nostalgia.
Still, of course, it was always a relief that Gyu got to see him every day, even if it was only for about five minutes before collapsing exhausted onto his side of the bed. Those five minutes would turn into a summary of the whole day—sometimes they barely exchanged words, and just feeling the other’s weight beside them was enough to make the day feel complete.
It was one of the good things about living together, even if the last few months had been really turbulent. The apartment had grown quieter, strangely more organized, more dependent on outside schedules—but it was still theirs. Time had felt especially chaotic during the entire U.S. tour; Mingyu had missed Wonwoo more than anyone could imagine. Every different hotel felt the same without him, every dressing room too big, every return to the accommodation too empty.
And even so, they stayed in touch as much as they could—with long messages even though they were in different time zones, with video calls whenever time allowed it, sometimes with one half-asleep and the other barely waking up, sometimes just leaving the call open in silence while they each did different things, just to feel like they were sharing the same space.
But it wasn’t the same as actually having his partner’s presence with him everywhere he traveled. There were little anecdotes that now Mingyu could only share through voice notes, exaggerating his tone, describing gestures he knew Wonwoo could picture perfectly, while Wonu just thought it would’ve been fun to see everything the fans or the other members did with his own eyes—to laugh in real time instead of sending a “hahaha” minutes later.
Wonwoo would tell him about his day-to-day too—how sometimes it was hard to wake up so early without that little push Gyu would give him to hurry up, how the alarm didn’t have the same effect as the soft insistence in his voice, how there were hours or even days when work became heavier or more tense, with paperwork piling up, calls, repeated instructions. But every day, when the clock struck 5 PM, he could finally relax and head home, order something for dinner or meet up with a friend to go out.
Even if the rhythm was different, even if things weren’t like before, that didn’t change the love they had for each other. It wasn’t different. Their relationship wasn’t on pause—they just had to be apart temporarily. It was a forced parenthesis, not a period. But that month in the United States made it so that the second Mingyu stepped off that plane, the very first thing he did was go see Wonwoo because he had missed him so much. He didn’t even stop by the company first, didn’t pause to unpack his suitcase—he needed to make sure he was still there, that the distance hadn’t made him intangible.
The jet lag could wait. Rest could come later. But he needed his dose of Wonwoo after so long—he needed the hug that reset everything back into place, the familiar scent. And they kept navigating their relationship like that. They had already renewed the lease on their apartment for another two years, because not even military service was going to make them stop sharing that same roof that served as their refuge, where they could both be unapologetically themselves without curious or unfamiliar eyes on them, where silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
Now that Mingyu was in Korea, things were better. Sometimes he’d only work until 5 PM so he could get home to Wonwoo as soon as possible—he’d calculate timing, avoid long chats, finish tasks with almost anxious efficiency. Sometimes his daily activities didn’t allow it but, again, at least they had a few minutes, at least they could share dinner and talk about their day at the end of the night before washing their faces and going to bed, soft conversations under dim light with exhaustion settling over their shoulders.
That’s why Mingyu thought that when the concerts happened in Incheon, it’d be easy for Wonwoo to come support him—of course him and Seungcheol, who had debuted as a subunit and were now doing a full concert for thousands of fans. The idea had settled in his mind from the moment he saw the dates, almost like a certainty. The first concert happened on Friday and Gyu understood Wonu couldn’t make it in time no matter how much he wanted to, so he let it go.
The second concert was on Saturday, but even then Wonwoo didn’t show up and that left Mingyu a little disappointed, he wasn’t going to lie. He didn’t just miss his partner’s presence on stage, he also missed his simple attendance—that feeling of knowing exactly which direction to look at the end of a song, of finding among lights and shadows a familiar silhouette even from far away. The truth was having him there, even somewhere in the audience, really changed the energy he felt, as if his body automatically had extra battery he couldn’t explain, as if singing stopped being just work and became something intimate, shared.
It had happened during the beginning of Seventeen’s tour, when Wonu showed up there to see all of them—Gyu’s aura was like a puppy, happy and full of energy because the love of his life was there, watching him, supporting him not just with words but with actions, with his time, with his presence in a place full of noise where he usually preferred calm.
Mingyu remembered perfectly how his movements became lighter, how he talked more, how he searched for any excuse to walk toward the side of the stage where he knew Wonwoo was, even if he couldn’t distinguish him well through the lights—just knowing was enough.
So he wished that on every possible date, Wonwoo would show up—not only because he liked having his support, but because… Mingyu was debuting a new song that was completely dedicated to Wonu, something he’d been carefully keeping for a long time with almost childish caution, as if he were afraid of ruining the surprise by thinking about it out loud too much.
Sunrise… a track he’d actually composed when they were apart, Gyu in Los Angeles, Wonu still in Seoul. While he thought about the melody, while he wrote the lyrics, Mingyu could only have Wonwoo in mind—the way he had fallen in love with him so deeply, the way he still made him feel after so many years, floating like a butterfly, a lightness that contrasted with the heavy tour days, with impersonal rooms and silent early mornings.
Thinking about how he could leave hidden messages there, about how it took him a while to realize the right person had been there the whole time, about how patient he was to let him tell the world what they had when he was ready—remembering every little moment in retrospect while writing verses in the darkness before dawn. God, he’d put his heart into that song, it wasn’t just another track in the setlist, it was basically a confession turned into music.
And the truth was it really was a surprise for Wonwoo—Mingyu had kept that song secret since early 2024 when he wrote and recorded it up until then, even avoiding humming it at home, guarding every file, every comment. He would’ve loved for Wonwoo to show up on the first date of Double Up Party so he could hear it for the first time, so he could look for his reaction in the crowd while pretending normality, but… it didn’t happen.
When the third concert date arrived, Gyu had a bit of hope. The day before, Wonu had explained he was meeting his best friend who was visiting Seoul, and that he’d invited him to go to the show with him the next day, so the idea of him showing up accompanied even felt cute to him—almost made him nervous.
At least Mingyu felt calm about that—he knew it had been a while since Wonwoo had last seen his childhood best friend, so he understood, even if a part of him was already counting the hours in advance.
With that promise, Mingyu got more excited and put extra effort into the last date CxM would have in Incheon. He mentally rehearsed his parts, paid closer attention to details, smiled more than usual because he could picture exactly the moment Wonu would be watching him. But the disappointment came when Wonwoo didn’t show up to the concert, even though earlier he had texted him:
My friend is at the venue, but… I think something I ate yesterday upset my stomach, so I won’t be able to go today, Min. T__T Sorry, baby, I’ll take something and rest, I feel awful.
He explained, and Gyu understood again—sometimes Wonu was sensitive when meat wasn’t cooked properly or when he tried something new, which he probably did the afternoon before with his friend and something must’ve made him sick. So he replied with concern rather than reproach, saving the sting of disappointment for later, convincing himself there’d be another chance, that he could wait a little longer.
And of course, like the star he was, Mingyu gave everything on stage. He didn’t let anything slip into his expression while the lights washed over him and the crowd’s screams vibrated through the venue. He was happy to sing for his fans and celebrated with the members who did show up to support him, smiling wide, making jokes, accepting hugs and pats on the back as if his heart didn’t feel a little heavier than usual.
He moved with that natural confidence he always had on stage, projecting charisma, throwing flirtatious looks at the cameras, as if that night he hadn’t been expecting to find one specific person in the audience.
Though he couldn’t help that once he got drunk—when the makeup started feeling heavy and the adrenaline slowly faded—the sadness crept in a little, quiet but persistent. And when he got home, the next day while Wonwoo was already getting ready for work, he complained a bit with that honesty that only came out when the filter of pride weakened.
"Hyung…" he whined, voice slurred and soft from alcohol, still hugging the pillow, hair messy, eyes barely open as he watched him move around the room. "You really should’ve been there…" he continued, stretching his hand as if he could reach him from the bed, while Wonu debated whether to wear a tie or not because sometimes he couldn’t fix it properly and Gyu wasn’t in any condition to adjust it for him, staring at his reflection in the mirror with a slight doubtful grimace.
"I’m sorry, Min, I already explained I felt sick, but I’ll find a way to be there next time, okay?" he said softly, letting out a sigh and giving up on the tie, unbuttoning the collar to go with something simpler, knowing he didn’t have time to wrestle with the fabric while Mingyu watched him with that mix of reproach and vulnerability.
"You promise? Oh—wait, you can go to Busan on Valentine’s Day, right? I can sing just for you on Valentine’s Day, yeah? Please." Gyu answered quickly, pushing himself up on his elbows a little, still slightly dizzy, words tumbling out from excitement and alcohol as if that idea had suddenly become a brilliant solution he couldn’t let escape.
Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh, a low, fond laugh, because Mingyu was already settling back in to sleep again, pulling the blankets up to his chin like a kid. He’d probably wake up only when Wonu came back from work, unaware of the world for a few more hours.
"Yeah, I promise, I’ll find a moment to go see you, okay? I have to leave now or I’ll be late… I love you, Min, you know that, right?" He walked over to the bed as he spoke, gently brushing his fingers through his hair to move it away from his forehead, waiting for at least the smallest reaction before heading out.
Mingyu was already tucked under the blankets, his eyelids growing heavy again, but he nodded with a slow, almost clumsy movement. "Yeah, I love you too, Won." he said, already half-asleep, his voice softer, more sincere, less tinted with complaint and more with habit.
Wonwoo made sure to pick up food on his way back from work, stopping for something he knew Mingyu liked when he was hungover—something warm and comforting. And to his surprise, even when he got home, Gyu still hadn’t woken up. The room was dim and quiet, his deep breathing filling the space.
So he waited for him so they could eat together, carefully placing the bag on the table and also preparing some medicine for the headache, leaving it ready with a glass of water on the nightstand. He put a bottle of Pocari in the fridge so Mingyu could hydrate when he woke up, moving around the apartment with that domestic ease that contrasted so much with the public image people had of them, silently making sure that even if he hadn’t been able to be at the concert, at least he could be there in the everyday moments, taking care of him.
𓂃 ོ☼𓂃
During the following week, Mingyu had to say goodbye to Wonwoo and to their beloved home once again—the routine of open suitcases on the bed, clothes folded in a rush but out of habit, chargers rolled up, small reminders that the door would close behind him again for several days.
He and Seungcheol were traveling to Japan for the next tour dates as a subunit, first to Nagoya—specifically in Aichi prefecture—where they’d have two days of concerts. And even though the professional excitement was there, the farewell atmosphere in the apartment was always quieter than it should’ve been, like both of them tried to act normal so the moment wouldn’t drag out.
Gyu knew Wonwoo wouldn’t be able to attend any of the Japan dates simply because it was a longer process under alternative military service—he had to request vacation days, prepare extra documents to leave the country, forms, permissions, explanations. Not impossible, but difficult, and Gyu didn’t imagine he’d go through all that trouble just to see him, so he didn’t mention it much, pretending he understood perfectly even if part of him wanted to ask at least once.
Though that week Wonu did go to a concert, with his new friend Oner, one of the professional players from the LoL team T1. He attended a Monsta X concert that held special meaning—a different outing from his work routine, a different kind of noise than the office, stage lights instead of computer screens.
Wonwoo was close to Changkyun, who was about to begin his mandatory military service as an active soldier, and that was his last show before enlisting in the army. So there, on stage, he decided to shave his head to be ready for the next stage of his life—a symbolic gesture that changed the atmosphere of the venue in seconds, shifting from euphoria to an emotional silence before the applause came back even louder.
So Wonu didn’t just enjoy Monsta X’s unique and amazing concert—with some of the group’s most iconic songs as well as solo stages, chanting along with the crowd, letting himself get carried away by the music in a way he hadn’t been able to in a long time—but he also witnessed the moment one of his closest friends in the industry said goodbye to his fans and his hair to fulfill that obligation as a South Korean citizen, a moment that inevitably reminded him of his own current situation.
After that, Wonwoo went back home. He had to shower and sleep, exhaustion falling over him once the door closed and the apartment returned to calm—but not before telling Mingyu everything: Hey, I went to the Monsta X concert today and since Changkyun enlists in a few days, he shaved his head. It was fun, but also emotional. He wrote, attaching a photo he’d taken right at that moment, checking twice before sending it, imagining the reaction on the other side of the screen.
And Gyu wasn’t going to lie—he felt a little jealous because Wonu had gone to that concert and not CxM’s yet, a brief but clear sting, that childish feeling of wanting to be the priority even though he fully understood the circumstances. Still, he knew the previous week a lot of things hadn’t gone in his favor and they still had another chance, so he chose to cling to that instead of overthinking it.
So he had hope. He did his two concerts in Nagoya and then he and Cheol had to move to Tokyo for their next performances. The change of city meant another hotel, another backstage, another routine that was already starting to feel automatic. They both decided not to fly and used the Shinkansen to reach Tokyo, putting all their suitcases on the bullet train and sleeping for a while during the ride, the steady motion of the car and the low murmur of passengers working as an improvised lullaby while the view of cities blurred past the windows.
They still stopped by a Chrome Hearts store before reaching their hotel, looking at accessories, trying on rings without much commitment, killing time before check-in. And when Gyu entered his room, he found the surprise—he had barely pushed the door open when he saw someone already settled there, lying on his side on the bed as if he had always belonged to that temporary space: none other than Jeon Wonwoo. Mingyu smiled widely, an instant smile that completely erased the tiredness from the trip.
"Wonwoo hyung… did you really come all the way here just for me?" he asked, dropping his suitcase halfway to the floor, still in disbelief. Wonu looked up from his phone and smiled calmly, then shook his head.
"No, I came here because I love Tokyo. I definitely didn’t come to see my talented boyfriend be a superstar."
Before he could finish, Mingyu had already abandoned the suitcase against the wall and rushed over to hug him, kissing him as they fell back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight.
Mingyu buried his face in his neck for a few seconds, inhaling like he needed to confirm this was real and not some illusion brought on by travel exhaustion, while Wonwoo set his phone aside and wrapped his arms around his back, absentmindedly stroking the nape of his neck.
"I thought you wouldn’t be able to leave the country…" Gyu murmured against him, his voice lower now, almost vulnerable.
"It was complicated," Wonwoo admitted with a soft sigh. "I had to request days off, sign things, explain other things… but I wanted to come at least once."
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just heavy with meaning. Mingyu lifted his head a little to really look at him, like he’d been seeing him only through a screen for weeks and now needed to memorize him in person all over again. "You got here right when I was starting to miss you again."
"You always miss me," Wonu replied with a slight sideways smile.
"Yeah, but now I can do this." And he kissed him again, slower this time, without the rush of that first reunion.
Later, after showering and finally unpacking his suitcase, they went out for a short walk near the hotel, no caps and not too many precautions on the quieter streets. They bought something warm from a nearby shop and headed back, sharing it as they rode up in the elevator, shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence.
Back inside the room, Mingyu sat on the edge of the bed, watching Wonwoo move around the space like it belonged to him too. "Come to the concert tomorrow," he said—not as a question, but as a wish.
Wonwoo looked at him over the bottle he was holding and nodded softly. "I came all the way to Tokyo for that, didn’t I?" And that time, Mingyu felt like the hope he’d been holding onto all week finally had a real, solid shape.
𓂃 ོ☼𓂃
Not only had Wonwoo traveled all the way to Japan to see Mingyu, but Jeonghan had gone through the same process so he could see Seungcheol at a concert too, since he hadn’t been there when CxM performed in Incheon either. Both of them had handled paperwork, adjusted schedules, requested permissions with the discretion that still came with being tied to military service—but that created a small problem no one had anticipated in the middle of the reunion excitement.
No one expected Wonwoo and Jeonghan to show up at those concerts, so there wasn’t a single guest seat available in the venue. Everything had been sold out—a full house that filled Gyu and Cheol with pride. Seeing the venue completely packed proved all the hard work they’d put into that subunit, but it also made them nervous, because… where were they supposed to place their partners inside the venue now?
There really wasn’t any space for them—no reserved row, no discreet corner prepared beforehand. Success came with that tiny logistical inconvenience that at the moment felt much bigger than it should have. But Wonu and Hannie decided to solve it themselves, like they usually did when things didn’t go exactly according to plan.
"What if we watch and listen to the concert from the waiting room? And we only step out for a moment to make an appearance—fans already know Wonwoo’s here anyway," Jeonghan suggested, offering a solution with a calmness that contrasted with the slight tension of the other two.
"They already know he’s here?" Mingyu asked, worried. Jeonghan nodded without making it dramatic.
"They leaked his flight info, so they know he came to Tokyo," Hannie explained, and Gyu immediately frowned, a mix of annoyance and concern crossing his face. Wasn’t Wonwoo supposed to be outside the public eye now? Those details shouldn’t have been spreading around.
It made him feel a little angry and a little guilty, like the attention he received indirectly dragged Wonwoo into situations that weren’t always comfortable. But Wonwoo looked so cute and so calm, just smiling at him like he wanted to lighten the weight of it all with that simple expression.
"Yeah, it’s fine. We can go to the audio console and camera control area, but I’ll still be there listening to the whole concert," he said, taking off the mask that had started to bother him and slipping it into his pocket as he spoke naturally, as if not having a proper seat among the audience didn’t affect him at all.
There was no other option but to accept it—there wasn’t any other place they could be. Still, his presence was more than enough, even if it was behind consoles, screens, and technicians focused on their work.
Perfect for when Mingyu sang Sunrise again, this time with a permanent smile on his face, because he knew the person he’d written that song for—the man who inspired those lyrics—was there, listening to him even from a less visible corner.
Even if he couldn’t see him directly, he had already told him to pay attention to that part of the concert, and he put an extra touch into that love-filled song for Wonwoo—holding a note slightly longer, lowering his voice on the most intimate verse, closing his eyes a second more than usual while singing the line about how he was the flower he returned to every day. It was perfect; he felt every word reached its destination even if he couldn’t visually confirm the reaction.
But near the end of the concert, Wonwoo and Jeonghan stepped out from backstage to show themselves to the fans, the murmur growing the moment they were recognized, the screens focusing on them for a second as they raised a hand in greeting. Wonu even dared to make a heart with his arms at Gyu from afar while his boyfriend smiled proudly and sweetly from the stage, answering with a small smile the audience interpreted as simple happiness, without knowing everything that gesture meant between them.
Of course, Wonu also missed singing GAM3 BO1 with his groupmates; sometimes he wanted to return to the stage too—to feel the vibration of the monitors under his feet, to hear his own voice blending with the others in real time—but there was still almost a year left for that. He had to keep fulfilling his responsibilities, keep his feet on the ground while the rest continued shining under the spotlights.
Meanwhile, at least he could listen to the whole concert and watch it from the backstage screens and see a couple of songs directly from there even without a guest seat. Even if he only made an appearance, he was there to support his Mingyu, to show him how much he loved him—that he would literally cross seas and travel far just for him, and that was what mattered. And later, when they left the venue, the noise still ringing in their ears, Mingyu hugged him, resting his forehead against his.
"Thanks for coming," he murmured without drama, but with a sincerity heavier than any speech.
Wonwoo smiled faintly, brushing his cheek with his thumb. "I told you I’d find a way."
After the show, Mingyu, Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan went to dinner at a nice restaurant they used to visit whenever they were in Japan—one of those places that already felt familiar even in another country, where the staff recognized them without making a scene and the atmosphere was warm.
It was a happy night. Gyu was so happy—he missed this, as simple as it sounded. It had been a while since the last time he’d gone abroad with Wonu, since they’d had a double date with Hannie and Cheol, sitting across from each other, exchanging comments, laughing over small anecdotes that had nothing to do with work.
He was content, watching the love of his life puff his cheeks while eating a good ramen, carefully holding the chopsticks as he blew on it before tasting it, talking about his duties in military service. He definitely wouldn’t trade that moment for anything—for sharing so much with him, for hearing everyday details that would sound boring to anyone else but were important to Mingyu because they meant they still shared daily life even if not always the same schedule.
And he knew that sometimes there weren’t photos capturing each of their dates or every moment they shared—no posts, no stories, no visible proof for anyone else—but the most important thing was that he kept everything in his own memory and heart: those night walks near the hotel in Tokyo, a little calmer since there were no fans or paparazzi around, happy after a day full of emotions, walking shoulder to shoulder without rushing, commenting on whatever crossed their minds while the cold air cleared their heads.
They arrived at their hotel room, and now it was Wonu who couldn’t stop planting kisses on Gyu’s lips and face, acting softer than usual, of course—but it wasn’t just that he’d loved taking these small vacations to spend more time with him and surprise him. He had finally heard that song Mingyu had made for him, something he’d been waiting for without even knowing it until it happened.
"So… Sunrise…" he said, looking him in the eyes, pausing his kisses for a moment as if he needed to confirm he’d understood correctly. Mingyu smiled softly and wrapped an arm around his waist, naturally pulling him closer to his body.
"Yeah, Sunrise is for you. It’s the secret I’ve been hiding from you for two years and now it’s finally out there—just for you," Gyu explained gently, making Wonwoo keep his gaze fixed on him, absorbing every word like a memory he wanted to preserve intact.
They loved each other so much—maybe not even a song could fully put into words how it felt, but it was the closest thing, an imperfect translation of something too big. Trying not to lose his soul in Seoul, thinking about how that city full of people could sometimes make them feel lonely, even surrounded by noise and obligations.
But their love was stronger than that. Their love didn’t make them feel lonely. It had bound them forever—sharing so many experiences as groupmates, but living fully and tenderly as partners under the same roof, sharing hotel rooms too like in Tokyo at that moment, and also in Indonesia, in China, and in the United States before, collecting memories in different places that in the end all felt the same because they were together.
They knew they had each other and that nothing would separate them—not military service, not the homophobia in their country, not the backward thinking of so many people, not the negative comments they sometimes read from supposed Seventeen fans. Nothing. What they had was stronger. Their souls were unified; they couldn’t be separated anymore, and if they were, they’d just be halves of the same whole—incomplete.
And that was what mattered. Nothing more than what they shared, even if it was private, away from the public eye, because it was only for them. And not only did they like keeping it that way—they protected it with everything they had, taking care of a love that wasn’t fragile. It was strong, but it wasn’t meant to satisfy anyone else, only for Mingyu and Wonwoo to share the happiness of always having each other.
The room had fallen quiet when they finally slipped under the covers. Wonwoo lay on his back, his hair still slightly damp after the shower, and Mingyu rested his head on his chest without asking permission, as if that place had always belonged to him, listening to the calm heartbeat that contrasted so much with the noise from hours earlier at the concert.
For a few seconds they didn’t speak, they just breathed in the same rhythm, sharing that kind of comfortable silence that only existed when there was nothing to prove to each other. Mingyu barely lifted his gaze to look at him, their faces so close he could feel the warmth of his breath, and without hurry he slid a hand along Wonwoo’s side until their fingers intertwined.
"I liked that you were there," Gyu murmured, almost a whisper, as if he were afraid of breaking the calm if he spoke louder.
Wonwoo turned his head slightly toward him, his eyes softened, and brought his free hand to Gyu’s hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear before replying with a small smile that barely curved his lips.
"I liked seeing you sing that song," he replied just as softly, and that closeness alone was enough to erase the space between them.
The next kiss was slow, barely a brush, more a confirmation than any urgency, like they both needed to check the other was still there after so many days apart, after airports and different schedules. Mingyu shifted a little higher on the bed to match his height, propping himself up on one forearm while the other wrapped around Wonwoo’s waist, pulling him closer without force, just out of habit.
They kissed again, this time a little longer, unhurried, calm, small shared breaths slipping in between each touch, as if time had suddenly become wide and generous.
Wonwoo let out a quiet laugh against his lips when Mingyu insisted on one more kiss, brushing the corner before returning to the center, then rested his forehead against his for a moment, eyes closed. "You’ve been more affectionate today too," he murmured softly, not pulling away.
"Because I had you far away," Gyu answered simply, absentmindedly stroking his side with his thumb, repeating the gesture he always did when he needed to make sure he was really there.
They settled better among the pillows, facing each other, legs tangled beneath the blankets, and Mingyu left one last short kiss on his lips before resting his nose against his, barely smiling.
The exhaustion finally began to fall over them now that the day’s excitement was fading, but neither of them was in a hurry to sleep yet, staying close, breathing the same air, as if that simple contact was enough to make up for all the days they’d only had a late-night call.
In the end they didn’t say anything else, because they didn’t need to, and silence returned to the room while they stayed like that, sharing warmth under the sheets, knowing that for tonight there were no goodbyes or schedules pulling them apart.
𓂃 ོ☼𓂃
Wonwoo had to leave earlier the next day. Mingyu had a magazine photoshoot, and his flight back to Korea was scheduled for after Wonu left, so they had to say goodbye early and without any trouble, though that calm still carried the bitter edge of rushed farewells, of half-closed suitcases and hugs that wanted to last a little longer but couldn’t because time is always counting down, Wonwoo started his trip back to Seoul without any issues.
The real problem began when he arrived at the airport in his own country. There were people everywhere—too many, far more than expected for a flight that, in theory, wasn’t supposed to be a public event. So many fans who had bought his flight information were shoving their phones in his face, blocking his path, calling his name, trying to get a reaction, a glance, a word. It made him nervous immediately, his stomach tightening and his back stiffening under his clothes as he tried to keep the composure he’d always had in front of cameras.
Not only because he had nothing but a single bodyguard with him—one man trying to clear a path through that sea of bodies and outstretched arms—but because he didn’t know if this could cause problems for him in his military service. He wasn’t moving around as an idol in official activities now; he was fulfilling another responsibility, and anything could be misunderstood or turned into an unnecessary issue. Even so, he ignored all of them, kept his head slightly lowered, his expression neutral, tried to move quickly, dodging the girls crowding around him, feeling phones nearly brush his face and how personal space simply stopped existing in situations like that.
God, he honestly hated it. It was the biggest downside of being famous, that invasive side nobody mentions when they talk about success and the public’s love. It wasn’t so bad when he actually had more security, when there were more members, more staff, more physical barriers between him and the crowd, but one bodyguard could barely hold back a few fans, could barely push away one or two arms before three more took their place. It was difficult, uncomfortable, suffocating—but he made it. He crossed through, got into the car, closed the door, and finally breathed a little more normally.
Despite everything, he got home and told Gyu he arrived safely—a short, simple message, like always, because he didn’t want to worry him more than necessary. Mingyu took a while to reply because of work; he was in the middle of the shoot, bright lights, cameras, stylists moving around him, but when he finally had a moment to check his phone and opened his X account, the first thing he saw were those videos of Wonu surrounded by fans who weren’t letting him walk properly. Clips filmed from awkward angles, excited comments that didn’t seem to notice the obvious discomfort on Wonwoo’s face—and honestly, it made him furious right away.
It wasn’t fair. Again, Wonwoo at that moment wasn’t working as a member of Seventeen, he wasn’t at an event, he wasn’t on an official schedule. He was going home like anyone else. Everyone had to respect that, and had to understand the difference.
He didn’t like the way his boyfriend was being treated at all, especially when all he ever preached was respect for Wonu. Whenever he did a live, he made sure to warn Wonwoo so he could stay in the room they shared, or he tried to do it when, unfortunately, their schedules didn’t line up and he was home while Wonu worked, always taking care of those small details that to others might seem insignificant but to him were a clear way of protecting him.
He had always respected that—he even asked permission before posting any photo with him. Everything was done with Wonu’s consent because Gyu absolutely didn’t want to do anything Wonwoo might have forbidden due to his mandatory military service. He didn’t want to cross any line that could get him into trouble, didn’t want to be the one to cause difficulties when his boyfriend was already carrying a heavy responsibility. And it seemed Mingyu needed to remind the fans of that, to make boundaries clear—boundaries obvious to him but apparently ignored when excitement took over.
That day he got home later, exhaustion heavy on his shoulders, his mind still spinning with the images he’d seen on his phone. Wonu was already asleep, deeply, breathing steady, his face relaxed in the way it only was when he felt safe. Still, he could hold him, slip carefully beside him, wrap an arm around him and press his forehead to his hair, breathing in that familiar scent that always calmed him a little.
He still felt a bit guilty—Wonwoo had decided to go to Japan just to see him, had taken that flight for only a few hours together, and on the way back he’d run into that awful situation with fans blocking his path and filling his face with phones, as if that small act of love had to be paid for with anxiety and stress.
"I'm sorry, Won…" he whispered softly, pressing a gentle little kiss to his cheek, almost afraid of waking him—but Wonwoo was already asleep, so he only turned instinctively to hug him and keep sleeping, searching for his warmth even without being fully conscious. The next day was Sunday, but he was exhausted anyway after the trip and the anxiety he went through at that stupid airport, his body still sore from the tension.
But Mingyu was going to handle it, because he didn’t take those things lightly—not when it came to someone he loved. He had to draw his boundaries properly even with the fans he cared about so much, the ones he owed a lot to, because he knew he wouldn’t be where he was without them, but they also had to understand when something was okay and when it wasn’t. They had to learn that affection doesn’t justify invasion, and disrespecting Wonu like that wasn’t something he could tolerate, not when Wonu himself worked so hard to protect every part of his life during service.
The next day, looking calm on the outside even though that controlled anger was still there underneath, Gyu decided to start a live on Weverse, setting his tablet in front of him, greeting everyone like always, smiling with that warmth he was known for.
Everything started peacefully—light comments, laughter, usual questions—but when he saw the chat filling with fans asking about Wonwoo, he decided to make it clear once and for all. He took a deep breath before speaking, hoping they would understand what it meant, that loving someone also means knowing when to step back and respect their space, even if it means not getting the perfect photo or the closest video.
"Everyone… uh… from now on… since Wonwoo hyung is doing his military service, I’m not going to mention him in lives anymore, so please stop asking, okay? I also won’t show the inside of the house."
His words were twisted almost immediately, of course—some ill-intentioned fans claimed he said it because he hated people asking about Wonu or that he was tired of being associated with him—but there were also fans who understood the message.
Fans who could read between the lines in his careful tone, in the way Mingyu chose every word. The important thing was that Wonu was serving his mandatory military duty and because of that, temporarily, Gyu couldn’t reveal much information about him—not because he wanted to hide him out of shame or anything like that, but because respect meant protection, and protecting also meant staying quiet when necessary.
And it was obvious this period was a break from the spotlight for Wonwoo, a strange pause in a life always surrounded by cameras, gazes, and expectations—a space where he could breathe without feeling like every movement had to be interpreted by thousands of people.
Unlike other enlisted members, Wonu wasn’t very active on social media. He had limited his participation on Weverse a lot, for example he had completely disappeared from Instagram—not like Hoshi, who posted whenever he had free time or on Sundays from the base where he was, even Jeonghan did a live, but Wonwoo didn’t, so it was clear he didn’t want that kind of attention for now, and it wasn’t hard to understand if you really knew him.
He had always been reserved even before enlistment, so now, with a different life and different responsibilities, it made sense he chose silence over exposure. And it was the fans’ duty to respect that, because respect was also love, support—this was a different stage for Wonu. Right now he wasn’t the amazing Seventeen singer and rapper; he was simply Wonwoo, someone who came home tired, someone who wanted to sleep peacefully without his name trending every day over something trivial.
Still, Mingyu also told his fans that after the show he, Wonu, Cheol, and Hannie had gone out to eat, but that was it—he didn’t describe the restaurant, the time, or any details that could reveal anything, just enough to share a memory without exposing him.
And it was fine, because he knew how to protect Wonwoo—protect what they had together, even protect the home they shared and neither of them wanted to show, that place where they could just be normal people without the constant feeling of being watched. Unlike the first apartment they had, the one that appeared in their two vlogs during the Bittersweet era, this time it was different; they were more careful, more private. They didn’t want any incidents in the place they both considered sacred.
So they had made that decision together and everything was okay, at least inside those four walls where outside opinions couldn’t get in. When Mingyu finished the live, Wonwoo went to sit beside him on the couch, approaching with that quiet calm he always had at home, not needing words to announce his presence.
"Thank you, Min," he said, giving him a soft smile, acknowledging the way his boyfriend took care of him—not only with big actions like that public clarification, but also with the small everyday gestures that seemed invisible to anyone else.
"You don’t have anything to thank me for, Won," Gyu replied gently, smiling back at him, once again appreciating the moment that only the two of them were sharing—the calm after the digital noise, real silence.
"Should we order something for dinner?" Wonwoo suggested, breaking the romantic mood a little, though that normalcy was actually part of what made it special. Mingyu let out a small laugh but nodded. "Okay, I’ll order! Meanwhile, can you make me ramen in your new ramen maker machine?" Wonu asked.
Mingyu laughed a bit louder but agreed, getting up to make ramen for himself and for his beloved boyfriend, moving around the kitchen with familiarity while behind him Wonwoo scrolled through his phone looking for what to order, leaning against the back of the couch and glancing at him from time to time as if that domestic scene was worth more than anything outside.