Chapter Text
The sound of pens scratching on paper was clearly audible in the silent lecture hall. The occasional flipping of paper and the steady ticking of the clock served as Mingi’s lullaby as he rested his head on the table, eyes threatening to flutter shut at any moment.
Economics was the worst. Why was he even taking an exam for a subject that involved an unreasonable and ridiculous amount of algebra? Businesses would never ask their employees to solve for ‘x’ and ‘y’ anyways.
Weary and on the verge of dozing off, Mingi lifted his head off the table and glanced around the classroom, running his fingers through his light brown hair, sweeping it away from his forehead. His professor couldn’t even care less if he cheated, she herself was already half-asleep at the podium in front of the lecture hall anyways.
Mingi would never stoop that low though. At least he had a conscience.
He couldn’t say the same about the students in his class, however. The students beside him were literally searching up the answers on the internet. They weren’t even trying to make an effort to conceal their phones, openly placing them on their tables and blindly copying the answers.
In fact, Mingi could probably whip out a 75-inch TV and start playing League of Legends with a console at max volume—his professor wouldn’t even bat an eyelash.
He fiddled with his pen, spinning it around in his fingers, letting out a yawn before twisting his upper body side-to-side, popping the joints in his spine. He swore the person sitting behind him was silently judging as his back let out a sound similar to one of firecrackers exploding. Leaning back in his chair, Mingi let his head roll towards his left, his eyelids feeling cumbersome. His sharp, intense monolids were already half-closed, his rather hazy vision making it even harder to stay awake.
A dash of red hair caught his eye.
Mingi’s eyes immediately shot open, his earlier lethargy wholly forgotten.
Choi Jongho.
The most insufferable, short—apart from Hongjoong, of course—and ignorant man he had ever crossed paths with. That vertically challenged creature had the audacity to spill coffee — black coffee — on his fashion piece for a project a month ago, barely even uttering an apology before scampering off.
The worst part? Mingi’s fashion piece was a white dress. White! One that he had spent months working on in hopes that he could impress his professor, maybe earn some brownie points, and gain a few new ‘followers’ among his classmates and Jongho just had to ruin his chances.
It was Mingi’s ultimate dream to produce a fashion line. Having been artistic and creative since young, and obsessed with models on the VOGUE cover page, he decided to take the fashion course in college which, unfortunately, came along with 4 other subjects that had absolutely nothing to do with the course he was in.
Mingi especially detested Economics. He used to hate it because of the Math involved —as well as the excessive amount of algebra—but now hated it a hundred times more due to the thorn in his side known as Choi Jongho. All because of him, Mingi’s blood, sweat and tears went to absolute shit. He had to re-make the whole dress and only barely passed, scoring a 50 out of 100. Mingi had never scored anything short of a 85 in his favourite course before.
Since that day, Mingi started to harbour a deep hatred for Jongho. He would terrorise Jongho, bumping into him on purpose in the hallways, knocking his books off his desk, and in one instance, spilled coffee on him. An eye for an eye, as Mingi would call it. Luckily for Jongho, Mingi was drinking a latte and Jongho had been wearing a black sweater.
Mingi was the most pissed when Jongho didn’t retaliate. He would stay silent, shoot him a glare and walk off, ignoring Mingi. No one had ever treated Mingi like that. People would go around complimenting his looks, gushing over his fashion style, he just wasn’t used to someone blatantly ignoring him the way Jongho did. And that glare of his — that was the one thing Mingi hated the most about Choi Jongho. The way his eyes would narrow and his pupils would tighten, the slight crease between his eyebrows, how he bit the inside of his cheek to hold himself back from retaliating. The way his jaw would clench, how pretty it would look — wait. Why was Mingi thinking about it like that? He shook his head and cupped his face with his hands. “Get a hold of yourself, it’s Choi Jongho. The man who you hate the most.” Mingi hissed to no one in particular.
Mingi continued to observe Jongho. He looked like he was about to rip his deep, blood-red hair out. How funny it would look if he had a bald spot. Mingi snickered at the thought.
Jongho gripped his bangs with his right hand and scribbled a few calculations on his paper using his left, biting the end of his pen while he thought hard of solutions to the unnecessarily complex math questions. Occasionally, he would punch some numbers into his calculator, frowning if the answer wasn’t what he was looking for and retrying all over again.
Mingi snorted at the sight. Jongho probably hated economics as much as he did.
The only thing he and I can agree on, I suppose.
—💗—
After the exam, all the students filed out of the lecture hall, chatter echoing around the huge room. Everybody was discussing their answers, “What’s the value of x again?” “What’d you get for y in question 10?” While Mingi, frankly, could not give two shits. If he was clearly going to fail, why bother discussing which questions he got right anyways?
He grabbed his bag and stood up, swinging it onto his right shoulder, following the crowd and exiting the lecture hall. Walking past a certain redhead, he made an extra effort to bump into his shoulder, causing him to lose his footing and stumble.
“Didn’t see you there,” Mingi smirked. “Maybe you should grow a few inches, dwarf.” He knocked over the books on his table.
Mingi took his time to rake his eyes over Jongho’s face. With naturally pinkish, soft and plush lips and big, beautiful doe eyes, paired with an utterly adorable button nose, any person with eyes would definitely admit Choi Jongho was attractive. ‘But I’m not just anyone,’ Mingi thought smugly. He’d never fall for Jongho’s charms, after all. He was as straight as a pole. For sure.
Jongho shot Mingi a glare before bending down and gathering his books, and Mingi swore his heart soared. “I take silence as an agreement,” Mingi raised an eyebrow and grinned playfully.
Jongho’s friend, what was his name again? Oh yeah, Yeosang stepped in front of Jongho, frowning at Mingi.
“Fuck off, big boy.” He snapped at Mingi. ‘Big boy? For someone with such soft features, he sure behaves like a wild dog,’ Mingi mused.
“Stop bothering Jongho. You like him or something?” Yeosang spat bitterly. Mingi frowned in response, jaw locking into place.
Like Jongho? Now this guy either had a few screws loose or was incredibly dense.
“Me? Liking him?!” Mingi exclaimed, appalled. He jabbed a finger in Yeosang’s chest, fuming yet slightly flustered.The blond hair around Yeosang’s face and his statue-like features truthfully gave him an angel-like semblance. Too bad he’s the exact opposite. “If anyone is even capable of liking this man, I bet it would be you, following him around everywhere like a dog following its master.”
Yeosang opened his mouth, ever ready to put Mingi in his place when a hand firmly grasped his right shoulder. “He’s not worth it,” a quiet voice from behind Yeosang rang out.
Mingi was momentarily stunned. Jongho’s voice was slightly hoarse and more on the higher-pitched side, yet he had, contrastingly, such a firm and authoritative tone. Cute.
Wait, what? Jongho’s voice was….cute? Since when?
The name ‘Jongho’ and the word ‘cute’ do not go hand in hand. Mingi must have been losing sleep lately. Yes, that’s why he has been having these thoughts. Surely.
If he used that tone on Mingi while pinning him down — shut up, me. Mingi mentally slapped himself.
“Oh? The dwarf finally speaks,” Mingi scoffed, a tinge of red creeping up his ears despite his disdainful tone. An involuntary shudder ran through his body.
Jongho, as usual, ignored Mingi completely and, with a small huff and a roll of his eyes, clasped Yeosang’s hand in his before storming out of the lecture hall. Not before looking back and shooting Mingi his trademark glare.
Mingi’s eyes were immediately drawn to where their hands were intertwined as Jongho led Yeosang out of the lecture hall. His stomach twisted uncontrollably, an unfamiliar feeling taking place in his heart. He couldn’t stop his mind from spiralling into sour thoughts. Their hands fit so perfectly together, like the picture-perfect couple.
What are they to each other? Are they together? Why would they hold hands? Aren’t they best friends?
Sighing, Mingi trudged out of the lecture hall, trying to gather his thoughts and manage this unrecognised sourness.
“I’m definitely unwell,” Mingi mumbled.
—💗—
“Mingi? Mingi-ya?” Mingi felt a distinct tap on his shoulder as his eyes fluttered open. Rubbing his bleary eyes, the world was a blend of bright colours, like a disco ball. Someone—who was that? Mingi couldn’t tell— was tapping his shoulder, waking him up. Loud, blaring music filled his ears, giving him a pounding migraine.
“Mm?” Mingi’s eyes slowly got adjusted to the searing lights around him as he examined the unknown figure.
“Hongjoong hyung?” Mingi mumbled, his brain working overtime to process the blue-haired man waving his hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Mingi?”
Where was he? What was he doing here? Mingi glanced around, taking in his surroundings. He held up his hand, finding a grape-flavoured soju bottle, nearly empty, being grasped firmly. The sharp yet sweet smell of alcohol wafted through the air as he sat up straight.
“What are you doing here?” Hongjoong asked him, worry visible through the frown on his face, his nose slightly scrunched up in disgust from the smell of alcohol.
Having shared the same goal as Mingi, which was to launch his own fashion line, Hongjoong and Mingi hit it off so well during their first encounter in high school, and they had been best friends since then. Well—not the best of friends, but still best friends.
“Mmm…Joongie-hyung…drinkin’ away..” Mingi giggled and let out a small hiccup after his words, his whole vision spinning, colours blending into the background.
Truth be told, Mingi had dragged himself to the club near campus to drink away all his sudden thoughts about a particular nuisance in his life, hoping to forget everything, knock himself out, and wake up refreshed.His plan didn’t work well though, considering the fact that he was still thinking about that redhead.
Hongjoong plopped down beside Mingi, sinking into the sofa. “Why’re you even at a club without any friends? Where’s Yunho?”
At the mention of his best friend, his other piece, Mingi shrugged, gazing at the dance floor. People, mainly students from his college, were dancing their hearts away, high on alcohol, bobbing their heads to the music. Mingi would have given anything to be like them then, just dancing away without any worry, living the life of a proper college student and partying all day.
But he couldn't even do that, his whole heart feeling heavy as the image of Yeosang’s and Jongho’s intertwined hands kept replaying in his mind, just like a broken cassette tape.
The nauseating feeling of his gut twisting made him wince. He must have been unwell. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was Jong-
God, why was it so hard to just stop thinking about Jongho? Jongho this, Jongho that, Jongho was basically renting an apartment in Mingi’s brain at this point.
He slapped himself lightly a few times, earning a questioning look from Hongjoong, trying to wake up from this nightmare.
“Mingi-ya.” A grey-haired man stood in front of Mingi, some colourful drink, which Mingi decided was a cocktail, in his slender hand. A ring was clearly visible on his ring finger, binding tightly around it like a promise. His rabbit-like eyes were fixed on the man sitting beside Mingi, an eyebrow clearly raised. Despite him speaking to Mingi, Seonghwa’s attention was focused entirely on another person.
“Seonghwa-Hyung,” Mingi nodded his head in greeting.
“Well, that’s my cue.” Hongjoong patted Mingi’s shoulder, fear visible in his eyes, before quickly standing up and scampering after Seonghwa.
Mingi stared longingly as they disappeared into the dance floor, a glint of silver on Hongjoong’s ring finger caught Mingi’s eye, reflecting the colourful lights that danced around the club.
Mingi sighed, taking another swig of his nearly-empty soju bottle, drops of bitterness coating his tongue.
—💗—
That same bitterness was quickly turning sickening.
Mingi stabled himself on a street wall, clutching his stomach. He shouldn’t have drank so much — soju never agreed with his body, and he was now paying the price. Stomach churning, Mingi retched a little, gagging. There was no way he’d make it back to his dorm room without vomiting or blacking out—it was an either or.
Legs finally giving out, Mingi shrivelled onto the ground, pebbled and rough pavement flooring grazing his knees as he curled into a heap. His bottom lip quivered.
Why is the universe so harsh on me? Damn you, Choi Jongho!
Two hands firmly gripped his shoulder, lifting him upwards, placing him upright.
A dash of red hair caught Mingi’s eye.
Great. Mingi was now hallucinating about said man.
He must have been dreaming, because that red hair was definitely Choi Jongho’s. Then again, many people dyed their hair red. It was quite the trend these days.
Mingi couldn’t make out the face of this kind man who was helping him up to his feet—it was as if his face had been smudged over by the surrounding colours, a complete blur.
He reached out and squished this stranger’s cheeks, as if sensory could help him recognise this person. Such soft cheeks. The man’s cheeks were squishy with a smooth surface and soft, soft like the fluffy animal plush Mingi hugged to sleep every night in his dorm.
“Who are youuu?” Mingi asked groggily, words slurring. He pinched the man’s cheeks and squinted his eyes.
The man in front of him squeezed Mingi’s shoulder, letting out a small, high-pitched giggle.
He didn’t answer my question. Mingi furrowed his brows, removing his hands from the stranger’s face, tilting his head.
Although he was uncannily similar to Jongho, with his hair and his slightly chubby cheeks, there was absolutely no way this man was Choi Jongho. Mingi ruled out the option the moment it surfaced in his brain. Choi Jongho would, firstly, never help Mingi.
Or that was what Mingi assumed, having established that they were ‘enemies’ since their first encounter. Enemies don’t help each other. That’s not what enemies are for.
Choi Jongho, secondly, did not have the emotional capacity to let out a giggle like that. He always strode around campus with a crease between his eyebrows and his signature glare.
Or, it could also be that Jongho saved that version of him for Mingi and Mingi only, given that he had quite a number of friends, and how Yunho claimed he was ‘such a nice and thoughtful dude’ who would ‘crack the funniest jokes’.
Mingi had never viewed Yunho the same after those words left his mouth.
Mingi would, under no circumstances, admit that he did find irate Jongho really sexy. And it was enthralling to know that Jongho saved this version of him for Mingi. But not in a million years would Mingi acknowledge that.
“Answer my question. Who are youuu?” Mingi slurred his words, pointing at the man flimsily.
Mingi didn’t hear the faceless man say anything. Or did he? Mingi’s ears were ringing. He couldn’t even see the man’s lips, nor could he hear anything — why was it that Mingi couldn’t hear now? The ringing in his ears was so annoying. It was the same ringing his ears would be forced to listen to for half an hour straight after he hit his head (which unfortunately happened loads thanks to his height).
The man was saying something. Something incoherent. Something that was just gibberish in Mingi’s ears. Something that was recognised as ringing in his eardrums. There was too much noise.
Toomuchnoisetoomuchnoisetoomuchnoise…
His vision was spinning. Why was the man standing sideways now? Wait..his face….Mingi could suddenly make out the features of the man’s face. His eyes were doe-like, paired with soft, plush lips and a slight crease between his eyebrows—
Mingi's world faded to black.
—💗—
The pounding migraine in his head was getting to him. Mingi swore the light in the lecture hall was ten times brighter than usual. Blotches of colour dotted his vision, stars appeared behind his eyes, and through it all, he was forced to stare at the back of Choi Jongho’s head.
Mingi’s economics professor had done him insanely dirty and moved Jongho in front of Mingi due to “height concerns” which was highly unfounded. Jongho had insisted he could see perfectly fine when he was seated at the back, so why did she have to change the seating?!
Mingi groaned inwardly. Having a horrendous hangover was bad enough, add in the constant sight of Jongho and Mingi felt like he was at death’s door. His poor, feeble heart could only take so much.
It did not help that Mingi still hadn’t figured out who the mysterious man who helped him yesterday was. He had woken up at Yunho’s dorm, confused and disoriented, only to find out that he had ‘miraculously appeared in front of Yunho’s door’. His best friend could be such a pain in the ass.
Mingi pried the information out of Yunho as hard as he could, but he just would not open his damn mouth, insisting he did not know who brought Mingi to his dorm, blah blah blah.
Mingi just knew that Yunho was lying. He just knew it. He’d known Yunho for decades, and could therefore easily tell when he was lying. Honestly, Yunho was a horrible liar. An absolute saint who could not lie, a terrible liar even if he tried. He couldn’t make up a lie to save his life, nor could he tell one without feeling guilty and confessing after being questioned thoroughly. He persevered strongly this time, however, and Mingi couldn’t get him to speak the truth in the end.
He would surely succeed tonight, when Yunho was dead drunk and tipsy. Tonight, there was a huge campus party. Nearly half the school would be there, held in none other than the same club Mingi got deeply drunk in last night. In foresight, it was not ideal to go to the party today, considering how Mingi was suffering from a very recent hangover. On the other hand, Mingi could never—like never—miss a party. He was the life of the party, the most sociable, the most fun, the list could go on and on.
Mingi was, also, a huge fan of drinking games. Be it beer pong, spin the bottle, never have I ever, truth or drink, Mingi loved them all. What fun is a game without drinking anyway? Mingi did not like alcohol that much. It was the drinking games he liked, not drinking per se. He’d never turn to alcohol (yesterday being an exception) to solve his problems, or to forget his difficulties and setbacks (again, yesterday was an exception. Jongho is always an exception).
Bored out of his wits, Mingi resorted to observing Jongho for the second time this week. He had discovered some new…developments of his feelings, especially how he hated Jongho even more today. Or so Mingi thought, as his heart would beat erratically whenever he was near Jongho, and his stomach would have an uncomfortable feeling, a bit like…a twisting? Or more like a clenching? Or was that feeling only present in his chest? All he knew was he was thinking way more about Choi Jongho, even when he didn’t want to.
Which led to the third reason why he had to go to today’s campus party, he needed to—desperately— socialise and find someone new to think about. For a completely different reason, of course. Maybe I’ll get a good hookup today.
He had an impending feeling that neither would happen, and he’d go back as single as he always was. With no girl by his side, and only a virginity that would never be taken.
—💗—
The party was in full swing by the time Mingi arrived with Yunho. The dance floor was crowded, the fruity scent of alcohol filling the air as upbeat pop music blasted through the speakers at the DJ booth. Dressed in all black, with a tight fitting shirt and baggy cargo pants, paired with a leather belt and layers after layers of chains, Mingi was certain that he could pull at least one girl. At least one. Right?
Wrong. The rest of the party went incredibly uneventful. Just the usual dance, drink, dance, drink—not even a drinking game initiated. Mingi swore he was attractive. No—he knew he was attractive. But, as Yunho once said, “you’re just too scary, dude.” Maybe Mingi was too scary, because Yunho was literally sandwiched between two girls right now while Mingi, as single as a Pringle, was just lounging on the couch with a fizzy lychee cocktail as his only partner. Yunho was dangerously attractive, but Mingi had more of a bad boy persona, compared to Yunho's golden retriever one. More girls should have liked bad boys like Mingi, so why was he unable to pull at all?
Mingi had begged Yunho to give him tips to get girls before coming to the party, clutching Yunho's hands and whining like a spoiled toddler, even rolling around in Yunho's bed and messing up his blanket.
"Your aura is just too gay, man." Yunho had plainly said, not bothering to spare Mingi's feelings. "I don't know how to say it, but...your aura and whole personality is just..there but not there, you know?" Mingi nearly slapped Yunho there and then after he heard that.
Yunho was useless with words. Maybe he was just too stupid. Maybe he had no common sense. But to tell Mingi he had a 'gay aura' was just purely offensive. It was like a slap to his ego, an arrow in his heart. Do I really give off that energy?
Sighing, Mingi wandered around the club, nothing better to do. Nobody was willing to play a drinking game, everyone was just dancing and jumping to the incessantly loud music. The party was quickly turning monotonous and dull.
A dash of red hair caught his eye.
He was starting to get sick of the sight of this red hair. This sight followed him everywhere, haunting his dreams, taunting his vision, teasing his thoughts.
Jongho was laughing at something the girl beside him said.
His smile—his smile was beautiful. It was breathtaking, knocking all the air out of Mingi's lungs. Jongho’s smile reached his eyes, turning them into little half moons, highlighting the ageyo sal below his pupils. His teeth were porcelain white, wide, toothy smile showing off his pink gums. With smile lines that stretched until his cheekbones, that gummy bear smile was the most stunning and adorable thing that Mingi had ever witnessed with his very eyes. Once he started staring, god—he couldn't stop. All Mingi could do was stand there stupidly, frozen from head to toe, eyes riveted on Jongho. He stared. He gazed. He observed. He admired. He worshipped Choi Jongho with just his eyes and nothing more. Jongho's smile seemed to make time stop. All noise was tuned out from Mingi's ears, surroundings a blur. Even the girl chatting to Jongho was just another speck of dust in Mingi's vision. Nothing—absolutely nothing was more important than this moment, this scene, this view.
Mingi yearned to snap a photograph of this moment, to record a video and replay it everyday, just to see Choi Jongho’s absolutely stunning features morph into a smile. No, that would not do his smile justice. Mingi yearned to bottle up this memory, to keep it in his brain and re-watch it everyday single day, to see the cold, stoic Jongho be normal for once, to see the smile he thought would be impossible to be produced from Jongho, to hear the laugh he’d never thought Jongho could produce.
Jongho's eyes met Mingi's and he turned his head in record time, pretending to stare at the dance floor. Time had somehow started again, people's cheers and chatter audible. Mingi sheepishly darted his eyes up, glancing at Jongho, only to find him staring back with something...something different present in his eyes. Something unreadable. The girl beside him was long gone, and Mingi saw his chance.
"What's the Choi Jongho doing at a club with no friends?" Mingi cringed internally at his words. He even stole Hongjoong's line for him yesterday. How pathetic.
"That's the first time you addressed me by my name," Jongho smirked as Mingi sauntered over to him, eyes trailing up Mingi's figure, watching him lean against the bar table with a cocktail in hand.
"That's the first time you’ve even addressed me." Mingi countered, putting on a relaxed and unbothered face. Hopefully it was convincing enough, for his heart was palpitating rapidly. Jongho was actually speaking to him!
"Touché," Jongho muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching, curving up ever so slightly.
Mingi pushed on, bringing Jongho closer to cracking. It was definitely not normal to crave seeing your enemy's smile, but Mingi was a weak, weak man when it came to his enemy. He'd give anything to watch Jongho's phlegmatic demeanour crack at his own words, give up anything to have a grin-maybe even a laugh-directed at him.
“You’re finally blessing me with your words? I’m flattered.” He grinned and nudged Jongho lightly.
Jongho couldn’t help it, Mingi’s words and the alcohol in his system was causing his cool facade to dissipate slowly. A small, toothy smile emerged on his face as he mirrored Mingi, ”You’re finally initiating a normal conversation with me? I’m thoroughly flattered.”
At Jongho’s words, Mingi undeniably felt rather guilty. He had been bullying and causing Jongho huge inconveniences during the past month. In his defence, though, he had spilt coffee on his fashion piece!
Nevertheless, that did not justify Mingi’s recent actions. Even he knew that. This…sour feeling that twisted his insides, the emotion that caused his chest to tighten constrictively, it was eating Mingi alive. Swallowing his pride and biting back his ego, Mingi averted Jongho’s eyes and opted to stare at his bright-pink lychee cocktail instead.
”M’sorry.”
”Huh?”
“I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry for..for being such a jerk. I mean, you barely apologised after spilling coffee on my fashion project, which is more of a jerk move but..that doesn’t justify my actions.”
“…”
A blanket of silence fell between the two men. Granted, the club was still as noisy as before, but the space between the them was dead silent. Pin-drop silent. So silent, in fact, it was like someone had placed ear mufflers over their ears and the only thing they could hear was the rush of cold air from the A/C.
"Ah...." Jongho was momentarily stunned and speechless, gaping at Mingi with his lips slightly parted. How nice it'd be if I could kiss that bottom lip.
"Thanks? I mean, I forgive you?" He said hesitantly, unable to find a suitable way to respond to Mingi's apology.
"Yeah! Yep. We're cool right?" Mingi asked, hope sparkling in his boba eyes.
"Sure, I guess we're 'cool'."
"Does this make us friends?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Are we friends now?"
"Uhm..sure? If you would like to call us that then I suppose we are..."
Mingi beamed, eyes curving upwards, taking the form of crescent moons. "So we're officially friends!" Raising his glass, Mingi lifted it upwards. "A toast to our friendship?"
"Yeah, cheers." Jongho clinked his glass with Mingi's and drank a small sip of alcohol, whereas Mingi, on the other hand, downed his entire glass of cocktail in one big gulp, smacking his lips and letting a very audible 'ah' escape from his mouth.
—💗—
Mingi should have known better. He really should have known better. A few more shots later and history was already repeating itself. Once more, Mingi had gotten drunk. Very drunk. So impossibly drunk that he could not even stand up properly, dropping back down on the chair with an 'oof' after failing multiple times.
Truthfully speaking, Mingi had never intended to get drunk. Truthfully. Although that seemed to be happening way too often, it had never been never his intention. What's a man to do if he can't control his liquor? His original plan to get an answer out of Yunho (about the identity of the mysterious man from yesterday) was completely forgotten, his sole target now was to not slip up in front of Choi Jongho.
If Mingi let slip that he found Jongho's voice cute, or that he thought his lips were annoyingly kissable, or how he imagined Jongho holding his hand instead of Yeosang's, he would literally die of embarrassment. Hell, he'd unalive himself on the spot to save himself all the awkwardness in the near future.
In his last, futile attempt, Mingi stood up, barely taking a few steps away from the bar counter before stumbling and falling. His nose would have smashed against the ground if not for the familiar hands gripping his shoulder firmly, stabilising him just like yesterday on the street. The same exact high-pitched giggle rang out from behind him.
”Yesterday, was it…” Mingi trailed off in thought, turning behind to stare at a very familiar looking red-haired man.
”You like alcohol this much?” Jongho raised an eyebrow, snickering.
Mingi grasped Jongho’s face between his hands, squeezing his cheeks and pinching them. Yep, soft and squishy just like the stranger from yesterday.
“Why would you help me? Don’t you hate me?”
”That, is a one-sided assumption.”
“But, we’re enemies!” Mingi spluttered.
”Are we? Or is that another assumption? Besides, you just said we're 'friends'. Don't 'friends' help each other?” Jongho rebutted exasperatedly.
”B..but..”
Jongho eyed Mingi quizzically before leading him to sit back down on the counter chair. Mingi nearly whined at the loss of contact from Jongho's hands when he removed them from his shoulders.
”Do you have anyone to bring you back to your dorm?” Jongho asked him, concern etched on his face, a frown forming between his brows just like always.
”Yunho? Maybeeee. I dunno, he has so many girls around him and I have none. He’s probably gonna stay here for the resttt of thenight And here I am, single as ever.” Mingi slurred, biting his lip and lowering his head pitifully.
”You have me, though.” Jongho whispered, so faintly that Mingi only heard the first word.
”What?”
”Nothing. I’ll bring you home then.” Jongho extended a hand to Mingi, changing the subject in a blink of an eye.
”Thanks, Jonggie.” Mingi grinned, cheeks flushing red from all the alcohol in his system.
With a roll of his eyes, Jongho led Mingi out of the club and onto the dimly-lit street, letting the taller sling an arm around his right shoulder.
—💗—
Mingi's cushioned mattress welcomed him with open arms as he sank into it with a contented sigh. Jongho merely stood by and watch amusedly. He had hauled Mingi into his dorm and dumped him onto his bed, and was now currently standing above him victoriously. For some reason, seeing Jongho look down at him from this angle made Mingi squirm.
He looks so fucking hot.
Jongho barked out a laugh, showing off his gums and bright teeth again. Shit, did I say that out loud? Mingi screamed internally.
"I'll take my leave now, Mingi-ssi. You should drink this though." Jongho passed him a bottle of water, still stifling his laugh. Mingi sat up straight, drank a few sips, then bounced back onto his bed dramatically.
As Jongho left his room, Mingi swore he heard a hushed 'goodnight' escape his lips, but decided it was a dream, for Mingi didn't even hear the door close before he drifted off into sleep.
—💗—