Archive of Our Own

“Order for Song Mingi!” Yunho yells, placing the cup on the counter and wiping his other hand on his apron.

“Thank you, Yunho,” Mingi says, winking at Yunho as he swipes the drink off the counter. He walks away, smiling as he pokes the straw through the lid. Yunho’s gaze lingers on the collar of Mingi’s shirt. 

Hongjoong has that stupid smirk on his face when Yunho turns around. “I should start charging the extra ink it takes to print your phone number on every single one of his cups out of your paycheck,” he remarks as he wipes down the counter. 

“Hyung…” Yunho pouts, putting the new batch of cheese foam onto the shaker. “I’m your star employee.” 

“My ‘star employee’” Hongjoong says in air quotes, “needs better flirting techniques.” Hongjoong tapes the next order to a cup, scooping ice into it before sliding it to where Yunho is standing in front of the tea. “Song Mingi has been here every single day for the last month and has yet to notice that he has received Jeong Yunho’s phone number 30 times.” 

Yunho sighs, pouring an extra serving of tea into the cup. If Hongjoong wants to be so annoying, he can afford to operate at a loss on this cup. “I just want him to notice me, hyung.” 

“Well, I think he’s a little too busy drinking the worst drink known to man to notice.” Hongjoong slides by to place the cup into the lidding machine. “Passion fruit mango slushie with brown sugar boba and 100% sugar? If I didn’t make a crazy margin on that drink, I would tell him it's a crime.” 

“Hey! It’s cute!” Yunho looks down at the name on the drink. “Order for Park Seonghwa!” 

“Wait, what?” Hongjoong whips around to grab the drink from Yunho’s hand. “No way.” 

“Um…” A man with flowy blonde hair in a fit jumpsuit walks up to the counter. “I believe that’s mine?” 

“Yes. Yes, of course it is. Here, Seonghwa-ssi,” Hongjoong says, holding out the cup. Seonghwa laughs, taking it and the straw with a half bow before turning away. 

Yunho snorts. “Looks like I’m not the only one trying to win a boy over with loser flirting techniques.”  

-

“Dude, how are you not sick of that yet? You’ve been drinking that stuff for weeks, and it’s like every time you buy it, there’s an extra scoop of boba in there,” San says, cutting open a new shipment of tablets. 

“He’s cute, ok?” Mingi says, putting his boba aside to help San with the inventory. 

“There’s no way a cute boy is enough to make you drink that abomination for this long. Passion fruit mango slushie?” San laughs, taking out the stacks to count them. “You’re down so bad, dude, like it’s not even funny anymore.” 

“Funny? My love life was never meant to be a joke, Choi San!” Mingi lifts the stacks to the counter, placing a few on the shelves before squaring the rest into the inventory. 

“I know that, Mingi-yah,” San says, sidling up to him with the rest of the shipment. “But you know what is a joke? How close the school year is to starting. Senior year…fuck, we’re old.” 

“Not old yet,” Mingi remarks, slipping the new label into the holder. “I still don’t have a boyfriend,” he says, sighing.

“Um, excuse me?” a voice interrupts. Both San and Mingi whip their heads towards the door, where someone has just walked in. “Are y’all still selling the new styluses?” 

Mingi and San exchange eye contact. Eventually San gives in. “Yes. I can take you to them.” 

Mingi smiles a smile of victory as he finishes counting out the rest of the shipment. 

-

“What is this?” Yunho snorts, looking up from his laptop to make eye contact with his housemate. Yunho is sitting on the couch with a blanket pulled over his lap, laptop propped on his knees; Jongho, on the other hand, sits at the dining table, slurping at his barely cooked ramen, looking unamused at having his YouTube video interrupted. “One of the kids says their hobby is networking for a consulting firm. You’re 18, please get over yourself.” 

“Reading freshman introductions again?” Jongho sighs, putting his chopsticks down. “I’m honestly to this day still surprised that they accepted you as a freshman orientation leader and then continued to accept you for two years after that.” 

“Hey! I was your orientation leader, and you had a great time.” Yunho reaches for a throw pillow to toss at Jongho. It barely makes it across the couch.

“Yeah, but that was in spite of you! You took me to the wrong side of campus for class registration,” Jongho says, slapping the edge of the table. 

“I didn’t know you were a performing arts major!” Yunho retorts. 

“It was your job to find out?” Jongho exclaims, offended. “Whatever, it was funny as fuck running across campus with you anyway.” 

“Exactly,” Yunho says, leaning back against the couch. “And this year I get to have another novel experience with a freshman who may or may not become my roommate next year.” 

“You don’t want to room with a freshman, hyung,” Jongho says, reaching back for his chopsticks. “That’s almost illegal at this point.” 

Yunho sighs, pouting as he walks over to the dining table to steal a bite of Jongho’s ramen. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. I already have the best roommate a guy could ask for anyways. What classes are you taking this semester?” 

Jongho snorts, slapping Yunho’s hands away when they reach Jongho's bowl. “My ramen. Make your own.” Yunho continues to pout, sliding into the chair across Jongho. “Class voice. Acting cohort. Colonial literature. Human genetics – I cannot believe they’re making me take a science elective to graduate. And the queer film class we’re taking together so you can graduate.” 

“Oh right. I forgot you roped me into that,” Yunho says. “Between advanced lab and my senior capstone it lowkey skipped my mind.” 

“Only three classes, hyung? I thought this day would never come,” Jongho says, taking a sip of his soup in solidarity. 

“Yeah, senioritis?” Yunho laughs, thinking back to when they had just become friends and Yunho was so burnt out he couldn’t even find it in himself to see Jongho at any point in the 16-week semester. “But I’m TAing the intro calculus sequence as well.” 

“Ahhh, my hyung should’ve been an education major instead,” Jongho says, with a deep breath and his signature laugh. “Then he might’ve actually gotten cuffed over the last three years. Though with three classes, maybe you’ll actually have time to look for a man this time.” 

“Not going to happen, Jjong-ah,” Yunho says, getting up to dig through the cabinets for a snack. 

“I don’t believe you,” Jongho sing-songs, tossing a bag of seaweed at Yunho’s head as he walks to the sink to wash out his bowl. 

-

Mingi taps his foot against the linoleum floor, caught up thinking about what on earth he should do. There are so many things to do before the school year starts. He still has to buy (read: pirate) his textbooks, do all of his pre-class readings, and he’s performing at freshman orientation with his dance team – there are so many things to do and not enough hours… 

“Order for Song Mingi!” A shorter man yells from behind the counter. It’s not the cute barista. Mingi reluctantly reaches for the cup anyways. 

The man stops him. “Mingi-ssi, Yunho isn’t in today. He’s prepping for orientation, but…” his eyes flicker to Mingi’s hands wrapped around the cup. “Never mind. He’ll be in tomorrow.” 

“Thank you.” Mingi squints at the nametag on the worker’s shirt. “Hongjoong-ssi.” 

“You’re welcome, kid,” Hongjoong says, waving a hand. 

As Mingi pokes his straw through the cup and sips, he frowns a little. The ratio is off without Yunho’s extra scoop of boba. 

“Why the long face, Mingi-yah?” Yeosang questions as Mingi settles in the seat across from him, setting his boba down next to his phone. 

“The cute barista wasn’t on shift today,” Mingi says, with a sigh. “And I’m so terribly busy, and the school year hasn’t even started yet.” 

“Woah,” Yeosang laughs. “Let’s slow down a little bit. What’s on the to-do list?” 

“It’s actually appalling. I have to learn the choreo for orientation that I’ve been putting off because I’ve picked up extra shifts for the cash, buy all of my textbooks, and do all of my pre-class readings,” Mingi sighs, grinding his teeth at the thought of finishing everything. 

“Go easy on yourself, Min. You love dance, and last time I watched you learn choreo on a time crunch, you were simultaneously writing a 20-page essay on Viet Thanh Nguyen’s commentary on representations of the Vietnam War in The Sympathizer in like two days. You’ll be fine,” Yeosang says. 

“Yeah, but I was a junior,” Mingi sighs. “I’m just burnt out and filled with senioritis now.” 

“Aren’t we all…” Yeosang says, with a laugh. “Are you at least excited for any of your classes?” 

“Yup! I’m taking a queer film class. Read the syllabus, and I’m excited to write a paper on commodification of queerness and its manifestations in early 2000s film,” Mingi says, propping his head up with his hand. 

“You’re insane,” Yeosang says. “Comp lit majors aren’t real.”

“Standing right here, Sang-ah,” Mingi looks at the clock. “Shoot, I have to run. Let’s rain check this!” Mingi says, stuffing all of his things into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Wait, Mingi!” Yeosang yells from the table, but Mingi is already long gone. “You forgot your boba…” He eyes the order on the cup. “Oh my Mingi…” 

-

“Looking good, Mingi-yah,” Wooyoung whistles as he walks by where Mingi is getting ready in front of the bathroom mirror. 

“Looking not too bad yourself, Young-ah,” Mingi laughs, tilting his head to the left as he tries to loop his earrings through his piercings. 

Wooyoung slips into the bathroom next to him, reaching for the chain necklace he keeps in the cabinet. “God, time flies, man. I still remember telling you as a freshman that I would do anything to pass Aurora’s audition.” 

“Oh, I remember, obviously. Your red hair and that flashy leather jacket still make me laugh.” Mingi says, finishing up his hair styling with another pump of gel. 

“Say you, Mr. Jean Jacket and Cargo Pants with Far Too Many Pockets. We both looked like losers,” Wooyoung says, shoving against Mingi’s shoulders. Mingi shoves back with a laugh. 

“I mean, of course we did. It’s a miracle we got in when the guy with the sweatpants didn’t.” Mingi says, reaching for the glitter. Wooyoung slaps his head away, reaching to dab it on Mingi’s cheekbones lightly with a brush. They both still remember that boy – he comes up in conversations sometimes. The mysterious kid who showed up to Aurora auditions with unmatched height and presence, who learned the choreography faster than anyone else, only to vanish as soon as the list dropped. It was a mystery. 

Wooyoung pushes Mingi out of the way of the mirror so he can put his colored contacts in. “You know, I actually asked Seonghwa-hyung about that once. He said he withdrew from consideration. I wonder what he’s up to now.” 

It’s weird, in Mingi’s opinion, what college can do to relationships. Some people (Wooyoung) you meet at freshman orientation and instantly hit it off to the point you move in together and integrate into even the smallest parts of each other's lives. Others you meet as a freshman when they’re about to graduate (Seonghwa) and still they become one of your greatest life mentors. And yet, you can also meet someone once and then spend the rest of your four years wondering where they’ve vanished to, despite them existing on the same streets and in the same classrooms as you. It’s weird how fate pushes people together and then apart, Mingi thinks. 

Mingi shrugs. “I wish I knew. I would’ve loved to dance with him,” Mingi says, winking at himself one last time in the mirror. 

“Nope,” Wooyoung says, shaking his head as he washes his hands. “I wouldn’t have made team captain then.” 

Mingi laughs, “You would’ve beaten him eventually. I’ve never met a better dancer. Now, come here, captain.” Mingi reaches for the hook behind the door where he snuck the armband from where they keep it displayed on their shelves. “Let’s put this on for the first time.” 

He pulls the Velcro apart and wraps it around Wooyoung’s upper arm, watching the way Wooyoung unconsciously flexes a little in the mirror. His best friend. Mingi couldn’t be prouder as he puts an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulder, leaning their heads together for a second. “Seonghwa-hyung would be proud of you, Young-ah.” 

“Thanks, Mingki-yah.” Wooyoung says, like he’s coming out of a trance. He smiles at Mingi, looking just like he’s still 18, reading the new member list for the first time. “Alright, we should go. Don’t want to be late for our first performance as seniors. The freshman can’t have a bad impression of Aurora. I won’t allow it.” 

Mingi laughs again, nodding as he pulls Wooyoung out of the restroom to put on shoes and grab their bags. 

– 

The adrenaline of a post-performance high runs through Mingi’s veins. It’s always a crazy experience, the way the screams echo through the auditorium and the rhythm pumps through veins. He feels like a renewed person every time he finishes, the sweat dripping from his brow as soon as he’s done with bows. 

“Young-ah,” Mingi yells over the chaos of the team giving each other hugs. “I’m going to swing by the vending machine to get a Gatorade. Want anything?” 

“No, I’m good! Thanks, though.” Wooyoung says, wrapping his arms around Yeosang – grabbing the flowers and reaching to land a kiss on his cheek. Mingi averts his gaze, slipping away before it escalates. 

The vending machine sits in the corner of the hallway in the dark basement of the performing arts building. It’s a creepy place to find yourself on a normal day, let alone before it has been discovered by the freshmen who think that practicing down here will mean no one will hear their side before audition season. Mingi is almost sure that ghosts haunt this hall at this time of year, but it’s the only vending machine that has Gatorade within walking distance, and over Mingi’s dead body is he doing the 15-minute hike to the rec center after just having performed. 

As Mingi walks up to the vending machine, he almost stumbles back. A shadowy figure, dressed in a loose college sweater that frames a pair of light-wash jeans, is kicking at the machine. Is Mingi finally seeing the ghost he dreams of? 

“Um, hello?” Mingi says to the figure. It doesn’t move, continuing to kick the box. “Hey! It’s not going to come out even if you kick it like that. I’ve already tried a million times,” Mingi almost-yells, his voice echoing off the low ceiling. 

“Oh!” The figure turns around, the harsh light illuminating his face as he goes up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that someone would come down here.” 

Mingi squints for a second, his little smile immediately recognizable. “Yunho?” He laughs, tilting his head back a little. Yunho looks different without his uniform, much more normal.

“Mingi! Oh my gosh! I almost didn’t recognize you like that,” Yunho laughs;  the cadence makes Mingi’s heart do something he doesn’t want to acknowledge. 

“Are you referring to the chains or gelled hair?” Mingi says, finally taking a few steps closer now that he’s sure Yunho isn’t a ghost. 

“More like the glitter on your cheeks,” Yunho points out, moving aside so Mingi can get in front of the vending machine. 

“Oh, that,” Mingi says, suddenly feeling perceived. “My roommate was just messing around…” 

Yunho smiles, making Mingi all warm and tingly again. “Well, it suits you.” 

Mingi shakes his head, unsure of what to say to continue. He presses the Gatorade number into the machine. “So…I’m down here because I just finished a performance upstairs, but what brings my boba barista down here? Seems like a weird place to find oneself.” 

Yunho sighs, shaking his head a little. “Performance? You’re a dancer?” 

Mingi nods. Yunho smiles. “I used to dance. Gave it up before college though. I kind of miss it sometimes.” 

If Mingi really squints, he swears he can see the boy in the sweatpants tucked into Yunho’s frame, but he lets it go. “We should do it together sometime,” Mingi offers, trying to hide the fact that he just wants to spend more time with Yunho. “Your body never really forgets how to dance.” 

“We should, Mingi. We really should,” Yunho says with a wistful smile. “Anyways, to answer your question, I– I’m a freshman orientation leader. I might’ve lost one of the students?” 

“And you were kicking at the vending machine because?” Mingi teases, lifting his brows a little. 

“I’m frustrated,” Yunho says, lips pressing together in a pout. 

“Hi, frustrated. I’m Mingi,” Mingi laughs, tapping his card to pay. “I’d bet money they just wanted to explore around. I did that all the time during my freshman orientation. Who wants to go to group advising when I could explore which practice room was the most soundproof?”

“You make it sound like a sex thing.” Yunho pulls a face, intercepting Mingi’s motion to pull the drink from the machine. 

“I meant it as a dance thing, but you never know with these freshmen,” Mingi shrugs. “Can I have my drink now?” 

“Order of blue Gatorade for Mingi!” Yunho yells, tossing it in Mingi’s direction. 

Mingi catches it with an easy laugh. “Thank you, Yunho.” They both stare at each other for a second, their breaths together for just a single moment. 

Yunho’s phone buzzes. “Oh, it seems they’ve been found. I have to run. I hope to see you around, Mingi-yah.” 

“Me too, Yunho. We still have to dance together,” Mingi says, with a wave. 

“Of course,” Yunho yells back, already halfway down the hallway. Mingi looks down at his phone, dropping it when he realizes he still doesn’t have Yunho’s phone number. 

– 

“Jongho, you’re lying,” Yunho says, holding his phone to his ear with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I literally just found out this morning,” Jongho whines, his pout obvious even though Yunho can’t see him. “She literally left for Broadway over the weekend. We all had to change acting cohorts, and it threw a wrench into all of my plans.” 

“What if I drop the class?” Yunho questions, slumping onto the bench outside the lecture hall.

“You can’t. You need this to graduate,” Jongho retorts. “It’ll be fine, the class isn’t that hard, and I’ll help you proofread all of your essays, alright?” 

“But we were supposed to take it together. What am I supposed to do without my best friend?” It’s Yunho’s turn to pout this time. 

“You’ll be alright. You’re like the most extroverted person I know.” Yunho still whines a little into the phone. He might as well milk Jongho’s guilt while he still can. Jongho sighs. “As an apology, I’ll make dinner tonight, ok, hyung?” 

“Yay! Thank you, Jongho-yah,” Yunho says, suddenly smiling. “And for what it’s worth, I hope your new acting prof is good. I know how much you liked your old one.” 

“Thanks, hyung. Go get them, alright?” Jongho says, with an obvious smile.

“Yes, sir,” Yunho says, actually laughing now. Jongho hangs up the phone, his laughter audible from the other end until the last second. 

“Well, fuck me, I guess,” Yunho whispers to himself as he turns to walk into the classroom. 

The classroom that Yunho walks into is small. It’s for one of the seminar-style classrooms, where all the chairs come with an attached desk and they are set in a circle so you can see every one of your 18 other classmates and the professor the whole time. Great, more attention on the engineer guy who definitely knows nothing. 

Yunho looks around, he swears he has to have a deer-in-headlights look on his face. His eyes flit to the left corner of the room and then the right, trying to search for the place he’d be the least perceived. 

Someone waves at him from one of the chairs.

Mingi. 

“Yunho!” Mingi says, all smiley in his loose white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. “I didn’t realize you would be in this class?” 

Yunho shrugs, sliding into the chair next to him. “Gen ed requirement. And my friend who was supposed to take this class flaked on me.” Mingi raises an eyebrow in question. Yunho shakes his head, eyes flitting to the clock. “It’s a long story.” 

“You’ll have to tell me later then,” Mingi says, pulling out his laptop. “Nevertheless, this professor is super cool. You’ll like her.” 

Yunho smiles, feeling the knot in his stomach unravel at Mingi’s presence. It’s nice to have an ally. 

In terms of first classes Yunho has had in his college career, this is one of the easier ones. There’s no teaching of organic chemistry reactions or solving of fundamental differential equations, instead they discuss the pre-class reading and syllabus (which has no mention of exams either). It helps too that Mingi makes funny faces when one of his classmates says something they don’t agree with or when Mingi guides Yunho through the prompted pair discussion with so much patience. Yunho, despite his reservations, feels a little like he can breathe. 

“The final project is a partner project. You’ll be asked to present a 20-minute presentation on a film or media piece not covered in class through the lens of the scholars we study. Please let me know your partners by the end of the week. I highly suggest you start early,” the professor says, turning around to write some key scholars on the board. 

Mingi’s face lights up at that as he scrambles to scribble some ideas down. He shoves a ripped piece of his notebook onto Yunho’s desk, like they’re in elementary school passing notes in class. The professor barely thinks twice about it. 

Partners? I have a ton of ideas for the project. It reads in scraggly handwriting that swirls in all of the wrong places. Yunho looks up at Mingi, taking a sip of water from his water bottle. He nods, putting on his biggest smile. The smile Mingi gives back makes his eyes curl into small crescents, and Yunho’s heart feels like it’s swelling. 

Class ends before either of them knows it. Everyone begins to pack up, shoving handouts and notebooks back into their bags. Mingi slides up to him as Yunho is packing away his laptop. “Thanks for agreeing to be partners,” Mingi says. 

“Of course, I can’t imagine working with anyone else here,” Yunho says, with a laugh. They both go to side-eye the kid who was making thinly veiled homophobic comments in the middle of discussion today before looking back at each other and laughing. 

“Does this…” Mingi hesitates. Yunho tilts his head in question. “Does this mean I can finally get your number? You know, so we can, like, plan this out and stuff?” 

Yunho is really laughing now, cheeks starting to hurt from the way his body is filling with joy. “You do not know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” 

With that, Jeong Yunho finally has Song Mingi’s number. And he didn’t even have to make a boba order to get it. 

–

“Remind me why we’re going to the mall to work on this essay?” Yunho says, pulling into the parking spot and turning off the engine. 

“Because I will have no motivation to work on this essay unless I promise myself a fun little treat afterwards!” Mingi says, letting himself out of the car and grabbing his bag. “Come on, Yunho, I’ll buy you a boba. It'll be fun!” 

“Fine,” Yunho says, smiling as he steps out of the car and locks it. “But only for the free boba.” 

“Yay!” Mingi reaches for his hand, dragging him across the parking lot and into the mall. 

Before Yunho realizes it, he’s standing in front of the boba store he was working at all summer. “Hi, Hongjoong-ssi! Can I get a mango passionfruit blended with boba? And Yunho here will have…” 

Yunho cuts in, suddenly avoiding eye contact with Hongjoong’s knowing smile. He feels his face getting warm. “Um, I’ll have the ice blended chocolate.” 

Mingi pulls out his wallet with his free hand, the other hand still tightly wrapped in Yunho’s. Hongjoong stops him. “I’ll comp the both of you.” He bends his knees just slightly to force Yunho to look at him. “Anything for my favorite summer employee,” he says with a laugh.

“Thanks, hyung,” Yunho almost-whispers, avoiding eye contact and unconsciously leaning a little bit closer to Mingi. 

“You’re welcome, Yunho-yah,” Hongjoong says, voice suddenly softer. “It’ll be out in just a minute.” 

When Yunho gets his boba, it doesn’t escape his notice that Hongjoong leaves a note of ‘I see my extra ink didn’t go to waste after all’ written on it. It makes his face feel warm all over again. 

–

Mingi swears he’s going to kill Yunho, like actually commit murder. He swore it was going well. Yunho and he had been making progress towards their final project, meeting on the weekends to talk about work and each other. Mingi swore that they were getting closer, but considering Yunho thinks it’s ok to flake on him like this, maybe not. 

The day has already been shit. His thesis advisor rejected his first proposal, meaning he has to scrap the last few months of work, and now Mingi’s already been here an hour and a half to no reply. It’s pathetic to wait this long. He’s tired. He cancelled on game night with Wooyoung for this, and alas, falling in love is never worth it. 

Mingi starts to pack up his bag, shoving his laptop into his bag. 

You know next time you could just text me that you’re not coming. Mingi shoots off the text message with a hard press to the send button and sighs so hard the guy next to him looks up to glare. 

I started the annotated bibliography. Add stuff to it when you get the chance. The only good thing to come out of today was that at least he started to populate the annotated bibliography. 

Yunho comes bustling into the library, hair swept by the wind, backpack haphazardly swung over his shoulder. “Mingi, I’m so, so sorry.” 

“Save it,” Mingi waves him off. “I added stuff in the annotated bibliography. Finish it before it’s due by the end of next week.” The anger in his voice is surely palpable, but Mingi can’t even bring himself to care. 

Yunho steps in front of him, angling his head down just a little to make full eye contact with Mingi. Mingi averts his gaze. “I really am sorry. The clients for the capstone kept going on and on, and I wasn’t allowed to check my phone because that would be rude. I really should’ve texted when I was on my way, but that was ten minutes ago, and I figured it would be best to apologize in person.” 

Mingi shakes his head. Yunho slumps a little. “I get it. It's completely my fault. I’ll finish the citations by the end of the weekend so you can vet them before we submit, okay?” 

“Why…” Mingi closes his mouth. Of course, Mingi doesn’t matter more than Yunho’s future, his senior capstone, the culmination of four years of college. Mingi’s just a guy that Yunho flirts with. 

“I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, Mingi-yah. If my meetings run long, we won’t schedule things then,” Yunho says, his hands curling into fists. Mingi knows he’s fighting the urge to touch. These past few weeks have been getting used to Yunho touching, tight hugs when they make progress on the project, hand squeezes before he has to speak up in class discussion, draping himself on Mingi’s shoulder when they see each other in the halls. Mingi takes a small step back. 

“I think I just need some time, Yunho,” Mingi says. Yunho visibly shrinks, but he nods. For some reason, it squeezes at Mingi’s heart to see him sad. 

“I’ll text,” Mingi says, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out, somehow feeling worse than before he saw Yunho. 

– 

What the fuck did you do to my roommate? Yunho gets a text a few hours after he makes what he thinks is the worst mistake of his college career. And Yunho has made some very bad mistakes in college. Like that time he told his professor that he was sick and then met them in a student union building later that day. Or when he had to withdraw from consideration from Aurora so that he could join a business frat only to quit said frat because it was so toxic. But all of that seems to pale in comparison to flaking on the first boy he has ever remotely been interested in. 

It wasn’t a date, at least. And Yunho had really been stuck in a meeting, but he could’ve slipped away or communicated that these meetings usually run long or done something to not have to watch the hot tears brim at Mingi’s lash line. 

Yunho’s hands are shaking when they text back. Who is this? 

Mingi’s roommate. Wooyoung. 

You better fix this or I’ll kill you myself Yunho. Yunho doesn’t know this Wooyoung personally, but from Mingi’s description, it doesn’t seem like a joke. 

Where can I find him??  Jongho wordlessly slides over a stress ball with a smile. 

Our apartment

I’ll share our address

Fuck this up and I’ll ban you for life

Yunho’s phone pings with Wooyoung’s location, shocking him enough that his phone slips out of his hands. Yunho swipes it back up, hurriedly rushing to grab his jacket, shoving his feet into his shoes, and running his hands through his hair to look a little more put together.

“Yunho-hyung! Wait!” Jongho comes to the door. He shoves Yunho’s house keys and a chocolate bar into his hands. “If you’re going to apologize, you have to do it the right way, okay?” 

“Thank you, Jjongie,” Yunho says, taking what feels like his first breath all day. 

“Go get your man, hyung,” Jongho says, pushing Yunho out of the door and shutting it behind him. 

Mingi and Wooyoung live adjacent to the performing arts building, usually a 20-minute walk from Yunho’s place, but Yunho sprints across campus and manages the trek in 13. He knocks on the door, not even bothering to freshen himself up. 

A man with a sharp jawline and catlike eyes opens the door. “You finally got here,” he says. Wooyoung assumedly. He pushes the door open, letting Yunho in. 

“Go easy on him, Young. It’s not like you didn’t fuck up when we first started dating,” a voice comes from the living room. He’s blonde with softer features and a blinding smile. Mingi is tucked in his arms. 

“Yeah, but at least I wasn’t stupid enough to let you walk away,” Wooyoung says, huffing himself to the edge of the couch. 

“I’m Yeosang,” the blonde one says. “We’ll leave you two to it.” Yeosang sweeps up Wooyoung from the couch, ushering him into one of the rooms, as Yunho rushes to the now-empty arms of Mingi. 

“Mingi,” Yunho says, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around the Mingi-sized lump. 

“Yunho.” Mingi looks at Yunho, for real this time. His eyes are red and puffy, like he’s been crying a little, and Yunho can’t believe it. He made Mingi cry. Like real, real actual tears. He’s really the worst person on earth. 

“I– I’m so sorry.” Yunho’s vision starts to blur. 

“Oh no no no,” Mingi says, uncurling from his clump to wrap his arms around Yunho. He dabs at the tears that have started to fall down Yunho’s cheeks. 

“I made you cry,” Yunho says, lips already pouting. 

“No, you didn’t,” Mingi says, wiping Yunho's eyes and pulling him into the crook of his neck. “I cried because it’s been a long day. My thesis advisor rejected my proposal, and then you were late because you were building a future for yourself, Yunho. I can’t blame you for that. I just wish I had that opportunity for myself.”

Yunho pulls himself away from Mingi just a little. “But Wooyoung texted–” 

“Wooyoung is just dramatic and wants to play cupid. I understand, and I really was going to text you after I calmed down a little,” Mingi says, running his hand through Yunho’s hair. 

“I didn’t fuck it up? You still like me?” Yunho asks, knowing he sounds a little bit like the puppy Hongjoong always accuses him of sounding like. 

Mingi pulls Yunho away from his neck, propping his cheeks into his arms. “I like you so much, Jeong Yunho. You don’t even know.” 

“Ok, good. Because I like you too,” Yunho says. It’s kind of muffled because he’s leaning all of his weight into Mingi’s arms, but the words come out alright, he thinks. 

“Did we just?” Mingi asks.

“I think we did,” Yunho says, suddenly not crying anymore. Mingi laughs, body folding forward as he hugs Yunho.

Yunho hugs back tighter, tilting his head to whisper into Mingi’s ear. “Well, I brought ‘I’m sorry’ chocolate, but maybe this can just be a ‘Will you go on a date with me?’ chocolate.” 

Mingi nods, tucking himself close. “I would love that.” 

Yunho smiles, letting himself curl into Mingi’s embrace a little further. 

–

Yunho presses his worn-out sneakers against the marley floors of practice room 8A. These have been his shoes since he was six years old, to be worn down by gym sessions as opposed to freestyle cyphers. 

Mingi had planned their first date, texting Yunho that the details were a surprise but to clear out his Saturday and meet him in practice room 8A at 4pm wearing clothes he could move in. It’s been a long time since Yunho has considered dancing, but the motions of getting ready still live within him. He had donned a loose pair of grey sweatpants and his black tank top hidden under a soft sweater, without even thinking twice – like he was awakening a long-lost child within. 

“Hey, you,” Mingi says, pushing the door to the practice room open. “You look…” he lets his eyes flicker up and down, “good.” 

Yunho smiles despite his nerves. “Thanks, it's been awhile.” Yunho looks at Mingi, dressed in his Aurora zip-up and black sweats, bands hanging loose around his eyes. “You look great too.” 

Mingi smiles too, averting Yunho’s gaze by walking over to the speaker and connecting his phone to the bluetooth. He swipes up once and hits play, shrugging out his shoulders and letting the music flow through him.

He hits a wave right on the downbeat, coming up on the upbeat. Yunho matches him on the next set of eight. Mingi grabs Yunho’s hands. “I told you, Yunho-yah. You don’t forget how to dance! It lives in your body.” 

“I–” Yunho listens to the lyrics, stepping his foot before breaking into his signature popping routine, a sequence he made just before his 14th birthday. It feels freeing, like a letting go – a breath of air in a place Yunho believed was long buried. 

For a few moments, nothing exists – no assignments, no deadlines, no nothing. It’s just Yunho and the movement he thought was long forgotten. It’s one of those moments where Yunho feels wholly like a child again, the cheers of his classmates and the concrete of the four-square boxes the only things in his view. 

“That’s it. You’re doing really well, Yunnie,” Mingi says, smiling so big as he tries to mirror Yunho’s movements. 

“Yunnie?” Yunho stops moving and just goes to tilt his head. The music skips to the next song, something slower, not sensual, just emotional. 

Mingi crumples to the floor. “Oh my god, I didn’t even– sorry if I made that weird.” 

“No, no, it was perfect.” Yunho tucks himself into a crouch on the floor. He leaves less than six inches between them. “Does this mean I can call you Minnie now?” 

Mingi lifts himself up off the floor, taking the opportunity to get just a little closer to Yunho. “Why not Mingki?” All of Mingi’s friends call him that. Yunho thinks Mingi hears that more than his own name at this point. 

“Well, Wooyoung gets to call you that, and I want to…” Yunho bites his bottom lip. “I want to be different from him.” 

“Oh– I.” Mingi reaches for his phone, pressing pause. The music stops. “I… I think I’d really like that.” 

“Shit!” Yunho pulls back. Mingi’s face falls as he starts to pull back. “No, no, no, Mingi. I didn’t mean it like that. Fuck, I’m screwing this up. I’m so sorry.” Yunho shoves his face into his hands. 

“It’s okay, Yunho. I’m perfectly happy to just be friends–” Mingi starts, no longer able to hold eye contact. 

“No! I want to be special to you too.” Yunho cuts him off, reaching for Mingi for a second before deciding otherwise. “I just, I had this whole thing all planned out, and it really wasn’t supposed to go like this! There was supposed to be a Spider-Man and–” Yunho shakes his head, pulling his legs closer to himself. 

Yunho really liked Mingi. Mingi had worked so hard to plan their first date, and so Yunho was going to take the initiative to ask Mingi out on a second, where they watched the Spider-Man movie and then Yunho asked Mingi to be his as Peter confesses to MJ – and now it’s all ruined. 

“Oh, Yunnie,” Mingi reaches for Yunho's hands as he interrupts Yunho’s spiral. “It doesn’t matter. I want to be yours regardless.” 

“Really?” Yunho says, closing the gap between them. 

“Yes, stupid. I planned this whole date. I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t like you.” Mingi pushes against Yunho’s forehead.

“Song Mingi, I’d quite like to be your ‘Yunnie,’” Yunho says, recovering quickly to slip his hands into Mingi’s. “So what do you say to being my ‘Minnie?’” 

“I’d really like that,” Mingi says, squeezing Yunho’s hands. The both of them hold eye contact for a mere second before their focus starts to shift a little. 

“Can we?” Mingi whispers, leaning in. Yunho doesn’t even bother with an answer, meeting him halfway. 

Mingi’s lips are slightly chapped but plump all the same – the press of his uneven front teeth sending a wonderfully tingly feeling down Yunho’s spine. As they pull away, the slight minty flavor of Mingi’s toothpaste that he surely used before the date lingers. 

“I can’t wait to do that again,” Yunho says, smiling just an inch away from Mingi’s face, eyes all wide.

“Why can’t we?” Mingi replies with one of his crescent smiles. He wraps his hands around Yunho’s face and pulls him close again. Yunho’s hands find Mingi’s waist, the gap between them closing to the rhythm of Mingi’s breaths. 

When they finally pull away again, Mingi merely says, “You still owe me a Spider-Man confession” before hitting play on the music again. Yunho nods, pushing himself off the floor to match the energy of the giddy child that is bubbling within him again. 

–

The rest of the semester goes by in a flash – coming and going in a series of flashes that all seem to be consumed by Yunho, Yunho, and more Yunho. Before Mingi knows it, he’s watched Yunho write multiple drafts of his capstone in the quiet of his bedroom, had Yunho come over for dinners as they talked about exploring queer time through the lens of 20th-century film, and cried on Yunho’s shoulder about even more drafts of his thesis proposal. He’s even endured both Wooyoung’s commentary about wearing Yunho’s black hoodie that he conveniently left behind one day and Yeosang’s teasing about staring too much whenever Yunho wears his stupid gray sweatpants. 

Secretly, he hopes they never find out the way Yunho’s lips felt on the day he finally got his promised Spiderman date. 

Wooyoung flops onto the couch, poking Mingi’s cheek. “Alright, lover boy, ask your boyfriend if he wants to come over tonight.” 

“Huh?” Mingi puts his phone aside, going up to stare. 

“Your thesis proposal got approved! We have to celebrate!” Wooyoung says, reaching out to ruffle Mingi’s hair. “Come on, Yeosangie’s bringing some alcohol, Sannie’s bringing some food and more alcohol, and it’s the weekend, so Seonghwa-hyung said he’d swing by with something actually edible. It’ll be nice, and we get to meet Yunho!” 

“You’ve already met Yunho,” Mingi deadpans, staring at Wooyoung. “Multiple times. He’s like always over here.”

“Yes, yes, but those were all casual circumstances.” Wooyoung waves his hand like he’s brushing it off. “This is the real introduction.” 

“Fine, but only because Hwa-hyung is coming too. And no promises, alright? He’s busy working on his capstone too,” Mingi says, reaching for his phone again. 

“Yayyy! I’ll tell Yeosangie to prepare for one more!” Wooyoung says, getting up from his chair. 

Come over tonight, Yunnie. The gang is gathering. Mingi fires off the text, leaning into the couch a little. 

Yunho hearts the message. Packing up my stuff right now. Should I bring anything? He replies. 

Just your handsome self. Mingi can’t help but smile as he flirts. Yunho is handsome. 

Ah, but I surely won’t be as handsome as… Mingi waits for the second message to come in. 

Yeosang. No fucking way. No way Yunho just– 

Hey! Your handsome boyfriend is texting you right now and you want to compliment his roommate’s boyfriend???

I can’t help that I have eyes, Minnie. Mingi huffs once, crossing his arms even though he knows Yunho can’t see them. 

But don’t worry, they're always too trained on you to even look in Yeosang’s direction. Oh, and now Mingi is smiling again. He might even be giggling. 

Also, Wooyoung is too scary. I don’t want to cross him. Yunho texts. 

He’s just a cat. And you’re just a puppy. Yeosang’s actually the one you should be scared of between the two of them. Mingi texts, giggling more at the vision of Wooyoung and Yunho bickering and then lying on top of each other. 

“Mingi! Stop texting your lover and come help me reach the decorations on the top shelf!” Wooyoung yells from the kitchen. 

Sorry. I have to run, Yunnie. I’ll see you tonight! Mingi shoots off the text and gets up, rushing to the kitchen before Wooyoung attempts to do it himself. 

–

Yunho has to force himself to take one deep breath before he hits the doorbell. He’s not even meeting Mingi’s parents, it’s just a friend group, it’ll be alright. 

Wooyoung opens the door, his smile a lot more mischievous and a lot less angry than it was the first time they found themselves in this position. “Oh, hi Yunho! Welcome, come in.” He pushes the door open farther, letting Yunho in to take off his shoes. 

“Thanks, Wooyoung. I brought some fried chicken.” Yunho says, walking into the living room where a muscly stranger is sitting. 

“Oh, hello, I’m Yunho. Mingi’s boyfriend.” The person on the couch frowns for a second before leaning back into the couch with a pout. 

“What is this? Boyfriend show-and-tell? Well then, I’m calling mine to come over as well,” he says, pulling out his phone. He taps it a couple times before he looks up, smile blinding and full of joy. 

“Hi Yunho! I’m San!” he says. “Mingi and I were co-workers over the summer, but Wooyoung and I have been friends forever.” 

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you.” Yunho eyes the bandana on San’s backpack. “Hold on, are you a freshman orientation leader?” 

“Yes! It was my first time, but I figured it’s my last chance to do it as a senior, so why not try?” Yunho can see why San would be good at that, his smile welcoming and full of enthusiasm. 

“It’s fun, isn’t it–” Yunho starts before someone comes out of the bathroom. He stops short, squinting at the figure who plops himself onto the couch. “Um… why is my boss from the summer sitting in my boyfriend’s living room?” 

“Hi, Yunho-yah,” Hongjoong waves from his spot on the couch. 

“He’s Seonghwa-hyung’s boyfriend,” Wooyoung remarks, sliding past Yunho. Seonghwa… the name sounds so familiar, but Yunho can’t quite place it.

“Seonghwa-hyung! Come meet Mingki’s boyfriend!” Wooyoung says, ushering a man out of the kitchen. 

Seonghwa, presumably, walks out from the kitchen, all poised with a kind smile on his face. “Oh, Yunho?”

“I’m sorry, do we–” Yunho gasps. “You’re the guy Hongjoong-hyung was flirting with all summer!” From the corner of his eye, Yunho watches Hongjoong crumple into the couch in embarrassment. “I’m glad he finally won you over!” 

Seonghwa laughs. “What can I say? He’s pretty charming when he finds more than two words to say to me.” It’s funny and soothing in a way that Yunho can see why Hongjoong is in love with him. 

“But actually, we met when you auditioned for Aurora? It was a pretty fleeting meeting, so I can understand if you don’t remember me but–” Yunho doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence. He remembers his Aurora audition like yesterday, the feeling of being surrounded by so many passionate dancers was irreplicable. But it feels a lot less like opening up a wound now that he’s dancing with Mingi again. 

“I remember.” Yunho bows his head a little. “I’m sorry I withdrew.” 

Seonghwa wraps an arm around Yunho's shoulder. “You have no reason to apologize. We all have to make tough decisions in college. I’m happy to hear that you’re dancing with Mingi again, though. He says you’re very talented, which is exactly like how I remember.” 

Yunho leans into the touch, soaking up the comfort. “I missed dance” is all Yunho manages to whisper.

“Seonghwa-hyung, could you please let me at my boyfriend now?” Mingi says, from where he’s standing in the kitchen, arms wide.

“Sure, Mingi-yah. I’ll let you go at the sweatpants boy you and Wooyoung have been looking for since your freshman year,” Seonghwa says, pulling away from Yunho and shoving him into Mingi’s arms. 

“Huh?” “What?” Wooyoung and Mingi speak simultaneously. “But you look?” 

“Bulkier?” Yunho says, snuggling into Mingi’s arms. “My physique surely hasn’t changed that much? I go to the gym but not like that.” 

“I think we just never saw your face…” Wooyoung says, settling into the couch. 

“Well, I, for one, am glad fate brought us back together,” Mingi exclaims, tucking Yunho closer towards him. Then, softer, he says, “And that I got to keep you this time.” Yunho can’t help but land a chaste kiss in response. 

“Alright, that’s enough lovebirds,” Wooyoung says, clapping and grabbing Yunho’s takeout bag. 

“You and Yeosang are worse!” Mingi says, dragging Yunho to pick a spot on the couch. Yeosang finally comes out of the kitchen at the mention of his name. With a shrug, he tosses Mingi and Yunho two cans of beer and slides into the seat next to Wooyoung.

The bell rings. “Jongho!” San yells, running towards the door to fling it open. 

“Hi, Sannie-hyung!” San pulls Jongho into a hug, whispering something into his ear. “Yes, I missed you too, hyung,” Jongho says, with a laugh, peeling San off of him. 

“No fucking way,” Yunho says, with a laugh. “Jongho-yah!” 

“Yunho-hyung?” Jongho’s eyes curl with a laugh. “I should’ve figured.”

“San’s who you’ve been sneaking out to see?” Yunho says, leaning forward and pointing accusatorily. 

“Sneaking out? It’s not a secret, hyung. I literally tell you I’m going to my boyfriend’s place,” Jongho deadpans, letting San pull him into his lap on the loveseat. 

“Still! I can’t believe you didn’t introduce him to me first!” Yunho says, pouting and leaning into Mingi so Mingi can ‘console’ him.

“The pout doesn’t work on me anymore, hyung. I’m dating the world’s worst pouter,” Jongho says, pushing San away from wrapping his arms around his waist. “That, and it’s not like you introduced me to Mingi?” San pulls Jongho close towards him, and Jongho doesn’t pull back this time. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Hongjoong cuts in, hands intertwined with Seonghwa’s. “Jongho, Mingi is your hyung, and Seonghwa and I are all of your hyungs, okay? And we’re all going to be good friends, yes?” He smiles, and it’s sinister enough that everyone else except Seonghwa seems to straighten up a little. 

“Yes, hyung,” the group choruses, giggling at the way Seonghwa pulls Hongjoong back a little. 

“I’d like to propose a cheers, hyungs,” Wooyoung says from where he’s sitting. From where Yunho is, it’s not quite clear where Wooyoung’s limbs start and Yeosang’s limbs end. 

“To Mingi’s successful thesis proposal! And lots of future happiness!” The group raise their glasses, yelling out various forms of cheers and congratulations. 

Yunho leans close to Mingi, tucking himself into the crook of his neck. “Congratulations, my love,” he whispers, watching the way Mingi’s face crinkles in sheer joy. 

–

“Boba for Song Mingi?” Yunho says, sliding into the chair next to Mingi on the day of their presentation. Their desks have scooted closer throughout the semester, the funny faces turning into ones of longing and the passed notes into subtle touches. 

Yunho has spread himself into every section of Mingi’s life, but neither of them can forget why they first met. A cup of boba and multiple missed attempts at flirting. 

“Yes, that’s me,” Mingi says, leaning over to grab the boba and land a kiss on his delivery man’s cheek. The label is empty this time, but it still tastes sweet and well-balanced, just like his Yunho. 

Yunho blushes a little, squeezing Mingi’s hand. “We’re going to be great today, Mingi.” 

“Yunho, we’re practically the topic of our presentation. We’ll be just fine,” Mingi says, loading up their slides as their classmates also start to file into the room. 

“I love you. Thanks for being my Minnie,” Yunho says, taking a sip of Mingi’s passion fruit mango slushie and breaking into a little smile.

“Always, Yunnie,” Mingi says, eyes folding into crescents with a smile of his own.