Archive of Our Own

He had friends. He had many friends, actually. His social circle had tremendously expanded since high school... it should probably give the idea that it keeps him busy.

Why was he lying on his bed in the middle of the day, eyes trained on the ceiling and music playing from his phone thrown next to his head on a pillow, then? It also makes him wonder...

He is staring at the textured pattern, white splattered with tiny grey dots. Square after square, forming a false ceiling so wide it covered not only his bedroom ceiling but the ceilings of his entire appartement. So wide that he can't help but wonder what's beyond it.

He stands up, feet sinking in his mattress, unsteadily trying to keep a firm balance on the springs.

Might as well check it out.

He's been curious about it for the longest time, he didn't know why he never simply got up and satisfied himself earlier. Laziness maybe. Probably not interested enough. He didn't know. But it didn't really matter now that he was up and ready, hand carefully feeling the stucco chunk up above. Fingerpads running on the rough uneven surface, unfamiliar.

He doesn't even know why there is a fake ceiling in his bedroom, the ceiling isn't even that high, especially now that he'd gone through his growth spur.

The hair at the top of his head grazes another square of stucco and he's sure his nose would rub against it if he simply raised his head.

He presses tentatively on the square he was feeling up earlier and feels it move ever so slightly. He pushes on, forcing it up on shaky legs and a Jell-O-like mattress.

It doesn't budge further.

He gives it a light punch.

Stucco and dust snows down on his face, right into his open eye and he falls down with a bounce on his bed, balance lost and startled by the stinging in his sight.

"Shit"

He scrambles to the bathroom accompanied by the telltale tune of a ring tone.

The sink is easy to find and the stream of water feels cold on his fingers.

He cups some water in his palm and swiftly dives his open eyeball in the tiny puddle, instantly relieving the harsh sting.

His phone is still ringing, and he is still paying it no mind. And after a while of rinsing his eyeballs, the music starts again, announcing that whoever had called has given up.

He raises his head, attention focused on the state of his eyes, staring at himself in the mirror to examine the damage.

His sclera's an angry shade of red instead of the usual white, and his waterline is red-rimmed like he'd cried for a while. White powder from the ceiling is stuck in his lashes and his nose is running.

What a sight.

He smiles at his reflection and snorts out a laugh, before running to the living room as a string of snot shoots out of one of his nostrils.

He snatches a tissue and wipes his nose, walking back to his room amused by what just happened.

"Thank God I live alone..."

He sits down on his bed and sniffs.

His eyes feel extremely dry now.

Does he still have eye-drops?

Standing again, he pads to the bathroom to rummage through his cabinets and try to find something that would soothe the sting.

When he finally lies back in bed, reading glasses now perched on his nose, he checks his phone.

1 Missed Call

His friends knew of his reluctance to make or take phonecalls and yet they still did it, like it wasn't something that they thought mattered enough.

He isn't big on keeping contact and he knows some people couldn't stand that, but they weren't in high-school anymore and adults just dealt with it...

Why'd u call?

He checks social media for a second, assuming he could just answer his own question. And as expected, a story was uploaded of a group photo showing beers, clinking together in a silent cheers, capturing the hands of a couple of people from said group of friends. He takes that time to look at the other stories uploaded and scroll through his social media feed.

He then gets up feeling hungry and, with music playing in the background and his phone thrown on the coffee table nearby, starts checking his cabinets to assess what he could cook for himself.

That was a typical day for him.

And if he had a class or an appointment or had to go for groceries or somewhere he had to be, he would go out from time to time.

But mostly hanging out inside.

Alone.

Hanging out by himself inside.

Alone.

And it makes him smile from time to time.

Hanging out with himself alone.

But most times, he doesn't really feel anything about it. He doesn't really like to dwell on it much.

Hanging out alone.

He just endures it.

Because he liked it. It was comfortable.

Because what is there to complain about?

Because he made that choice.

Because what else would he enjoy, if not this?

Alone.

But he had friends. He had many friends, actually.

.

The knock on his door scared the shit out of him, and sent his heart racing so fast, if it was a racing horse, it would have arrived at the finish line in the blink of an eye.

Who's knocking on his door?

Is it the neighbor? To complain about the noise?

Was his music too loud?

He was careful to keep it loud enough for him to enjoy but not too much for the neighbors to hear though... In conclusion, he had nothing to be sorry about.

So, with as much confidence as he can muster on his face, and heart still beating for its life, he makes his way towards the door, heels padding loudly on the vinyl plank flooring.

As soon as he unlatches the lock, the person standing behind the door forces it open and his heart, hammering hard against his ribcage before, stops abruptly then. Sending a horrific shiver down his spine.

What the-

"I wish you'd answer y'r phone n'stop. ignoring. meee~" comes a very drunk and familiar voice, door still being forced open.

He lets out the breath he was holding in a relived sigh, and steps back, allowing the door to slide open freely.

His friend's body is pushing the door open, not his hand. Slumped on it and half asleep, quickly tipping over, sliding downwards. Face dangerously getting closer to the floor as the door kept its motion, working together with the heavy weight, slipping slowly towards an ultimate fall.

Before any damage can be done, he quickly snaps out of his bewilderment and catches the body in his arms with a loud uhmpf!

Damn!

Unconscious people are extremely inconvenient to handle...

Serial killers must go to the gym or something

"Why are you even here?"

His question did sound accusatory, and he would feel guilty if his friend wasn't drooling on his shirt right now, comfortably sleeping without a care in the world. But he doesn't feel guilty. And he is very annoyed. And sweating. And out of breath.

The door clicks shut with a loud thump that makes the floor shake for a beat.

"God, I wonder what you carry in that tiny body of yours," he walks backwards, dragging the body as best as he could towards the couch, "Do you, like, eat rocks as a snack or what?"

He couldn't reach the couch in time and he winces at the loud thump that his friend's weight makes as it gets dumped unceremoniously on the floor.

Guess the neighbors have something to complain about now.

He is exhausted and he's sure he's getting heart palpitations from the string of events that he just put it through. That much stress isn't good for his health...

He watches with ragged breath as his friend's form balls up on the floor in a foetal position, moaning in pain, but not budging from it's spot.

He swiftly snatches the blanket from his couch, that is two steps away -- so close -- and throws it haphazardly on the unconscious bundle of limbs and clothes taking residence on his living room floor.

"Thank God I live alone..."

And he goes to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for his friend and a snack for himself, before resuming his position on the couch, computer on his thighs and a drama playing on the screen.

He is cooking a pack of Ramyeon when the dead weight on his floor shuffles slightly.

Of fucking course...

He had been able to go through two entire episodes of his show before hunger came knocking at his door, and it was already getting snatched away from him... unfair.

He can hear his friend yawn obscenely and then suck air between his teeth in pain, as he sits up.

"What the-"

"You deserve that bruise."

"Mean."

"If you think so then you shouldn't have drunkenly crawled to my place. Of all places Hongjoong!"

"Assho-" he's interrupted by a garggle coming from his throat, "Shit-"

Mingi turns back to the stove and gets another pack of Ramyeon ready as his friend starts retching his insides into his toilet bowl.

Fuck's sake..

After a while of splashing liquid sounds and coughs, Ramyeon cooked and table set, Hongjoong comes back wiping a hand across his mouth, "-hole."

Mingi slurps the last of his noodles, seemingly unbothered, and pays him no mind as he gets up to wash his own dish,

"Why're you here anyways?"

"Oh come on! Stop the sulking. As if you've never invited me here before..."

"Keyword being invited. I never signed up for my place to become a drunk-rescue-capsule."

Hongjoong slurps his noodles, "Well, you didn't answer your phone. You wouldn't be that mad if you had joined us from the start."

"Shut up, don't be smart when you're clearly the one at fault. You're washing your own dish by the way."

And the bickering continues as Mingi throws a towel at his friend and urges him to take a shower; prepares a fresh pair of underwear and socks for him, neatly folded at the foot of the bathroom door.

They keep shooting at each other as they flop on the couch and switch through channels on his TV.

Insult after insult as they settle on a dumb variety show, and Hongjoong lays his wet head of hair in Mingi's lap and lets his fingers card through the blond strands.

"Did you have fun at least?"

"Yeah. Would be more fun with you there though.."

"Maybe next time."

Maybe not.

.

Mingi thinks that he has what they call social anxiety.

Hell, Mingi knows he has at least anxiety.

Is it a reason to stay locked up inside all year long if he can help it? No.

Is it a reason to ignore phonecalls and act like it's just a figment of his imagination? No.

Should he stop talking himself into staying in? Yes.

Is he making any effort in avoiding to do that? Absolutely not.

Mingi is lying on his bed, once again, phone held above his eyes, reading some sort of article about how Brie cheese is made for an obscure reason that he doesn't remember.

His arm is straining and it's taking his focus away from the information he's trying to understand and it's taking him longer to read it, and it's making him stay in that uncomfortable position for longer and it's a vicious cycle of pain and stubbornness, and his hand gives out eventually...

One corner of his phone hits him square in the forehead as he hears the ping! of a notification.

It hurts so bad. It might even bruise. He feels like his skull has a crack in it or something. There are tears in his eyes that he seems to pump out as he rubs his forehead in a circular motion, long enough for them to spill out on his cheeks.

It hurts.

So much.

And he's full on crying now.

And it hurts.

"Shit"

He tries wiping his eyes but water keeps flowing out no matter how much he wipes, and his eyelids are rough and red now, and his forehead still fucking hurts.

The dam broke and he can't stop the flow for a while, silently emptying himself of the overwhelm, phone promptly discarded somewhere on the floor and notification ignored at the same time.

And after a while, when the tears have dried and the ache has dulled, he picks it up again and checks the notification. Out of guilt maybe. Or something else, he doesn't know.

  HongJoong

Wyd?

Nothing

Expected that

I'm picking u up in 30

We're going drinking

Can't say no

I'm leaving now

Be ready

(seen)

Mingi doesn't bother with a response and sits up to assess his appearance in his full length mirror sitting at the opposite corner of his room.

He's wearing a faded anime tee-shirt that he's been using as a sleeping-shirt and a lounge-shirt and a going-out-for-groceries-shirt and apparently is good enough to be his going-out-drinking-shirt for the day. He'll just layer it with a sweater on top and pull out a pair of jeans.

He needs to do something about his face though, seeing that he can't really get out of Hongjoong's tight grip this time -- or maybe, for once, he doesn't mind so much.

He takes a closer look at his face in the bathroom mirror and huffs in disbelief. It's been a while since he's seen his face look like that and it isn't pretty. At all.

Blotchy and red with puffy eyes and a runny nose. Lips chapped but swollen and scarlet red from all the biting he did to muffle his pathetic sobs. The skin around his eyes is raw from all the wiping. But his eyes seem to have lightened in color, a chestnut shade appeared instead of the usual dark brown, so deep it normally made them look almost black.

"Thank God I live alone."

Mingi splashes cold water on his face and takes out his moisturizer, unopened in several weeks, to spread a generous glob on his face. As for the leftover on his fingertips, he simply dabs it on the abused area around his eyes and eyelids to try and soothe the skin.

He gets dressed quickly, lingering for a minute on what sweater to choose, before picking his favorite one and slipping it over his head.

He always wears the same sweater to go out. Or at least that's what it feels like.

He wouldn't know, because he doesn't go out that often, so...

There is a knock at his door and his heart, as if on cue, reacts immediately in a Pavlovian response.

This time he knows who is behind the door.

This time he knows that he isn't going to get scolded or anything like that.

Hongjoong isn't hostile towards him, he never was. Yet he couldn't help but be apprehensive.

He probably should have said no for tonight.

Regardless of what Hongjoong said.

His friends would never force him to do anything he doesn't want to, anyways.

He throws a look at his mirror again and swallows down a whine.

He looks better. But he has no will to go at all.

There is another knock that resonates through his appartement in a succession that just won't stop.

Mingi clears his throat and shouts from the bathroom, "Coming!"

He then grabs his keys, phone and wallet, screws a cap on his unruly hair and opens the door.

"God, you're annoying when you want to be."

"Shut up, I brought someone with me."

"What-?"

"Hey!"

Yunho steps away from the shadows and waves his ginormous hand with a kind smile plastered on his face.

Mingi rolls his eyes. Unbelievable.

"For fuck's sake Hongjoong, stop acting like my place is a public drive-through," he reprimands as he slips into his shoes.

"I forced him to bring me with him 'cause I missed you Mingi-yah. He had no say in it."

"Uhg, sure. Whatever..."

Yunho is probably his oldest friend. They met in middle school, grew up together and never looked back.

If Mingi is probably the definition of a homebody, then Yunho is the stark opposite. And obviously, with college and everything, they kind of grew apart, seeing that Mingi preferred the confines of his bed more than the loudness of the outside.

Mingi bangs his door closed and locks it, taking a deep steadying breath to steel himself for the night he turns around.

.

He's drunk.

He's very drunk actually.

He knows he's drunk because he's laughing so loud it doesn't feel loud enough.

He knows he's drunk because he's talking to the guys at the next table and he doesn't even know them.

He knows he's drunk because his stomach just made a roller-coaster flip in his chest and the sourness he tastes in his mouth afterwards isn't from the soju he's been drinking.

He shoots up from his seat, loudly rattling the metal stool he was perched on against the ground and tries, as best as his wobbly legs can guide him, to get away from the Pojagmacha they were gathered at. That rise of bile cleared his sight enough to help him make his way outside and behind the tent to try and find a trashcan of some sort -- drunk or not he couldn't throw up anywhere, he still had a bit of pride.

"Mingi-yah~ don't leeeave~"

Mingi ignores Yunho's plea and bends over the railing that his hands just landed on. He hangs his head, bending his upper body down towards the void and waits.

He hates throwing up. He hates it so much he would probably be able to prevent it if he wasn't this drunk.

He hates throwing up.

So he waits, head low and eyes droopy.

He doesn't force it out, he just waits. It was bound to come out anyways...

"Minkyah~"

Yunho followed him out apparently.

He feels the weight of his friend's huge hand settle on his back, and sways forward under the touch. Yunho lowers his face to look up at Mingi from below, "Okay?"

Mingi keeps his mouth closed.

He is waiting to vomit. He is in no position to answer anyone right now.

Yunho lingers on his face for a few minutes before straightening up and rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

Mingi makes sure to keep his lips sealed. He is freaking out.

He doesn't want to throw up. He hates it.

God, did he have to drink that much?

"Want me to go get you some water?"

Mingi nods. He just wants to be left alone. How could he throw up with anyone around?

As soon as Yunho leaves, Mingi turns around and slides down the railing until his butt touches the floor.

He brings his knees to his chest and tilts his head upwards, towards the sky this time.

Deep breaths.

Mouth still closed.

     Deep breaths and continual swallows.

Lips tight.

          Deep breaths.

Eyes fixed on the void up above.

               Deep breaths.

Eyes closing, void appearing behind his eyelids.

                    Deep breaths.

                                         ..  .

Deep breaths.

When he doesn't feel nauseous anymore -- and he doesn't know how long it takes for the feeling to disappear -- he cracks an eye open.

It's dark and he can't make out his surroundings.

He's lying down on a mattress and his head is settled on a pillow.

Someone is breathing right in his ear and Mingi's heart stops.

What the fuck?

Mingi shoves the breathing form away and shoots out of the bed at lightning speed.

He hears a muffled groan coming from the person now fallen to the ground, on the opposite side of the bed, "What the hell Mingyah!"

"What the fuck?"

"What was that for?"

"What am I doing in your bed, Yunho?"

"You fucking fell asleep on the pavement dude, what was I supposed to do?"

A messy head of hair peeks above the edge of the bed.

Okay, so he had drunk a lot. Like, a lot if he fell asleep like that, on the sidewalk.

Yunho is rubbing his head and getting up on his feet slowly, "Joong-hyung was wasted out of his mind, I dropped him off at his place and took you with me."

"Couldn't you have dropped me off as well?"

"God, Mingi! You were fucking unconscious, at least Hongjoong was able to walk on his own."

He was drunk.

He was very drunk indeed.

"Are you mad?"

Mingi doesn't answer and sits down on the bed.

No, he isn't mad, he just woke up with someone breathing down his neck and it scared the shit out of him, that's all.

But he isn't mad.

"Mingi-yah don't be mad~" Yunho is shoving lightly at his shoulder and trying to act cute.

Mingi lies on the bed, falling backwards and hitting the mattress heavily, making the blanket fly around him in a single puff.

Yunho is now shaking his shoulder, "Mingi-yah~"

He gets on top of him in a swift movement when Mingi doesn't respond, straddling him with his long fucking legs bracketing his hips and trapping him on the bed.

Yunho slides his hands under Mingi's shirt, around his waistline, and digs them in the soft flesh making Mingi jolt up with a yelp, "Yah!"

"Are you still mad at me?" Yunho's tickles become unbearable and Mingi bursts into laughter, trying to get Yunho off him.

"Are you?"

"I'm not-" Mingi is having trouble breathing, "I'm fucking not!"

Yunho doesn't relent with his tickles and his nimble fingers travel upwards to his ribs.

"Yunho please! I'm not mad I swear!" Mingi manages to throw him to the side, "I never was, I was just startled."

Yunho is laughing as well, lying parallel to him on the double bed. It is a small bed and they are huge compared to it. Mingi took up a lot of space with his broad shoulders and he knew it. As for Yunho... Well, Yunho is just tall as fuck. Their feet didn't even have a spare spot on the mattress,

"You should buy a bigger bed."

"I know."

Yunho turns his face towards him, smirk twisting his face and growing on his lips, "Are you okay, though? Did you feel nauseous again?"

"Shut the fuck up, asshole."

.

Mingi is back in his appartement, staring out the window this time.

His ceiling was starting to become old and uninteresting, and outside the city was bustling.

Okay, maybe not bustling per se, more like moving about.

Mingi liked to linger at his window on days he longed for the outside.

Mingi liked to stare through the glass and observe the little motion that his neighborhood provided from time to time.

He liked being able to stand there and watch, all he wanted, as long as his legs would keep him standing, as long as his eyes wished to observe.

He liked zoning out on the landscape, and making up imaginary scenarios, and soak in his own mind for a while.

Mingi thought nothing could be more interesting than the outside viewed through his window. It was one of his favorite pass-times.

Today, the pond in the abandoned backyard of the neighboring building that was getting bombarded with tiny drops of water sucked his attention wholly.

It was raining and the surface rippled in a multitude of rings, distorting the water, and it lulled him into a hypnotic state.

Sometimes Mingi gets mad at himself.

If he liked watching the outside so much through his window, why doesn't he simply go out more?

Why doesn't he take a walk in the park nearby?

Or explore the hidden alleys around his neighborhood?

Or go check out that new restaurant that opened in his street?

But then he remembers. He remembers how uneasy he feels when he's actually outside.

This crawling feeling of being watched in a crowded area, of not being able to breathe, leave, get out...

The way it makes him feel small. Or humongous, like a giant.

The way he tucks his shoulders in and his neck recedes on itself to avoid brushing against others.

The resting bitch face he can't seem to get rid of, scaring people off and making them split up before him like the red sea, to let him through.

The numbness that slips through his insides like a string connecting all his organs together and tightening, tightening, tightening.

He remembers how the first thing that comes to mind, the first instinct, when outside is to go back, go back, go back.

The self-consciousness, even though he tries convincing himself it doesn't matter. He knows it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

Nobody cares.

It just feels wrong.

Doesn't mean that he doesn't do it from time to time.

Doesn't mean he never ever leaves his appartement, nose permanently stuck to the window.

Doesn't mean he's grown to like it either, though...

It's mostly the same everytime.

Rarely, the sun will be out, warm and comforting, the streets will be empty, devoid of people, and all he will hear are car engines, the ruffling of tree leaves in the wind, birds chirping, tramway zooming and construction noises everywhere. He would feel at ease.

Rarely, the moon will be out, beautiful and safe, the streets would be deserted, free of people, and all he would feel is at ease.

Now he is standing in front of his window and the sun is setting and the muffled sound of raindrops on glass is making him feel at ease. And that was it.

His attention slowly comes back to the inside of his home, because, something is burning.

"Shit"

His noodles are burning. He had forgotten about them. The water had overflowed on the hot stove underneath. Pathetic.

Though, he gets to it in time not to make too much of a mess, his stove top is still ruined.

It's going to take him hours to clean that up later...

The noodles turned out well after all and he eats them quickly, like standing for so long at the window sucked out all his energy and he needed to recharge immediately.

He finishes them in a few minutes and throws the dishes into the sink before grabbing his phone and flopping on the sofa.

"Thank God I live alone..."

.

Mingi's in the middle of holding a plank when he gets the notification. He doesn't usually work out much. Only when he's feeling especially unproductive.

He had looked up a workout video on YouTube and was trying, on shaky arms and as best as he could, to hold a plank for one minute.

The chime gave him a good excuse to give up and lay his tired body right there, on the floor.

  HongJoong

Will u let me in if I bring chicken w me?

Sure

Cool

(seen)

Mingi would never actually leave Hongjoong hanging at his door. He just likes to act cold and grumpy around him because he's also cold and grumpy and Mingi's an introverted sponge that will suck up any behavior that will get people off his back.

They both know it's just for show, so yeah. Bickering and biting shall it be.

Mingi scrolls through his social media feed, procrastinating finishing that workout video, with his chin propped up on the floor and his phone standing before his eyes.

He ends up finishing the workout, because it was a 15 minute video, and come on, he doesn't even reach his goal of 5,000 steps per day, he can at least finish a 15 minute ab-workout video for God's sake!

There's a knock at his door as he comes out of the bathroom, showered and dressed, and yet again, his heart stutters in his chest at the sound.

Uhg!

Hongjoong enters, barely slipping out of his shoes, goes straight to the coffee table without a greeting, and starts emptying his bags and laying out the contents on the small surface of the table.

"I brought Somaek as well."

"Of course you did."

Hongjoong tutts with a frown, eyes on the box he is trying to open, "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear the condescension in your tone."

And when the box finally gives and opens to reveal deliciously sizzling, golden brown chicken, fried to perfection and smelling divine, he smiles in satisfaction, "Ja, let's dig in."

"I'll enjoy the food."

Hongjoong nods as he pours himself a shot of soju, "Yes~ as you should."

They eat and Hongjoong drinks, a lot, and Mingi doesn't join him because he'll be doomed if he has to deal with a drunk-off-his-ass-Hongjoong while drunk himself. He tries to avoid unnecessary inconveniences.

The chicken is now long gone, buried deep in their oesophagus and being slowly digested, and Mingi is lying on the floor head propped up on Hongjoong's thigh while Hongjoong is barely sitting upright with only the sofa still holding him up.

"Don'ever fallin love!"

Hongjoong downed a bottle of undiluted soju before starting to mix it with the beer.

"A'mean, at least don't falinlov with your best friend! Ever~ Minkyah," he pokes Mingi's cheek with his finger, eyes unfocused, "Mingyah!"

"Mmh."

"Don'fall in... love with your bes'friend, promise me~"

"Mmh, promise."

"Or else you'll end up in a shit situta-sistua-" he takes a deep breath, throwing his head back on the couch, "Huh- you'll endup in a shit situ-ation just like me-he-he-heee~"

And no, that's not his friend doing a very bad impression of Michael Jackson, that's just him starting to cry. More like whine actually. Like a kid.

"Mingkyaaaaa, why did I have to fall in lo-ho-ho-hooove~ and now he's gone~ and I miss him~"

"I know, I know," Mingi isn't good at comforting people, but it takes very little to comfort Hongjoong when he's in such a state of inebriated delusion.

He pats his extended leg on which he's laying his head, "Seonghwa-hyung will be back from military service very soon, hyung-ah. Don't be sad."

Hongjoong doesn't respond.

Mingi raises his head to peak at him, and as expected, he is fast asleep. Head slipping off the cushion of the sofa, victim to gravity, getting ready to meet the floor.

Mingi catches it, having a strong sense of déjà-vu, and puts all his might -- and his previous 15 minutes of physical activity -- at use, to lift the dead weight and drop it on the sofa.

No way he's carrying that man back to his bed, his arms won't make it.

He throws the blanket on top of his friend and turns reluctantly to the coffee table, now littered with trash, beer cans and empty bottles of soju.

Mingi can count four. This tiny man, sleeping soundly on his couch, gulped four bottles of soju on his own.

"Shit"

Maybe Mingi should pay more attention to him. This isn't even a remotely okay amount of alcohol to have alone and in one sitting.

After throwing everything away -- and obviously separating the trash -- doing the dishes and brushing his teeth, Mingi slips under his bedding with a sigh of contempt, spreading his limbs like a starfish.

He hasn't been more grateful to have the bed all to himself than he does right now.

"Thank God I live alone."

.

Mingi's listening to his favorite song lying on his living room floor, starfish pose, and eyes trained on the ceiling.

His loss of interest in it was short lived, and he's back in full force with the pointless zoning out.

The song he's listening to is one that Yunho made him listen to, back in middle school, actually. And it's his favorite.

Yunho and him met in middle school. They used to attend the same dance studio.

Mingi wasn't especially good at dancing or very passionate about it, but he felt cool while doing it and it was exciting, doing something that he wouldn't normally do. People were always surprised when he told them he was taking hip-hop classes and it was that reaction of impressed delight that he loved seeing.

Yunho had joined the same year as he did, so it was kind of inevitable for them to get along.

What was less inevitable, or more unlikely to happen, was for them to stick together like they were joined at the hip.

Yunho didn't go to the same middle school as Mingi, but one day he showed up in Mingi's lunch room big smile and bright eyes, dripping with sweat and out of breath, and dropped his plastic bag across from him on the table.

"What are you doing here? Did you run? Why are you sweating so much?"

Yunho unpacked his Kimbap roll and pierced his straw into one of the tiny bottles of banana milk arranged in a pack. He then, picked a sausage off of Mingi's plate and popped it into his mouth, "Eat up, we're having lunch together from now on."

And ever since that day, Mingi never had lunch alone anymore, and Yunho didn't care about how slowly he ate or how little he spoke.

Mingi smiles at the memory, like he usually does when reminiscing about the old times. Yunho's his best friend.

Or at least he thinks so.

He doesn't really know what a best friend entails, but Yunho's his oldest friend and that's probably not going to change any time soon. Mingi's convinced they'll stay in each other's lives for a long time to come. He can just feel it.

So if that's what a best friend is then Yunho's his best friend.

One time they were practicing in the dance studio until late. The teacher had paired them together for the end of the year showcase and they'd been working hard on it.

Mingi had collapsed on the floor, too tired from endless hours of staying up on his feet and moving continuously, and he just needed to catch his breath. Plus the wooden floor of their practice room was blissfully cool and refreshing, so more of a reason to spread his limbs out, trying to cover as much surface as possible.

The music was still playing because he had stopped midway through it and his eyes traveled to the ceiling of the studio.

It was an average crisp white ceiling, but it had a twist. It had metal plates running through it like the ceiling of a warehouse. Iron bars crossing the wide expense, solidifying the structure and keeping that roof where it was supposed to stay. Up there.

The song slowly faded into a new one and Yunho came to lay down next to him in a similar starfish position.

"What's that?"

"The song? It's from my playlist. It's one of my favorites."

It was a good song.

Mingi focused on it and started moving his limbs in a snow angel motion.

It was a really good song.

Mingi couldn't understand the lyrics since it was sung in a foreign language, but it was an awesome song.

Mingi, then, turned his face towards Yunho, to find him already staring at him with the widest, goofiest grin on his face.

"It slaps," and Mingi couldn't hold back a crooked grin of his own.

"Yeah I know. It fucking slaps ass!"

Mingi hit him on the mouth with a giggle, "Ew, don't ever say that again."

And Yunho, in a swift movement, easily pinned him down by straddling him, and started tickling around his ribs, "How dare you slap me!"

"Yunho!"

"You literally said it first, how dare you slap me?"

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry Yunho-yah! Please!"

Mingi snorts at the memory.

Mingi is laying on his living room floor, spread on it like a starfish, daydreaming into the ceiling and snorting like a madman.

Thank God he lived alone.

.

Seonghwa is probably the only one from his group of friends that respects his wish for not phone-calls.

  SeongHwa

Hey there! Just wanted to check on you

How are you doing :)

Good

The usual

How's military service treating u?

Ha.

Fine I guess..

As fine as it gets

You know what I'm talking about ;)

Yeah

Hongjoong misses u

U should text him too

Mmhm

Maybe I will

When r u getting discharged again?

1 month :/

Can't wait to see you guys again

Same here

Take care man <3

U2

Mingi had completed his military service late last year. Yunho and him enlisted on the same week and got discharged two months apart.

He didn't really like to think about it much. He doesn't really remember much about it anyways. He doesn't really know why. Maybe it wasn't that memorable. All he can remember is that he felt cold for the first time in an area inside of his being where he never felt anything before.

He gets flashes of faces sometimes. But he mostly remembers spending it alone. As always.

Was it a choice?

He didn't know. Yes, maybe.

Did he like it? Did it make him feel at ease?

Probably not, now that he was thinking about it. Back then it felt normal though, to be left alone. It kind of happened he had no real say in it.

He remembers how unapproachable he felt, how everyone kind of pushed him away. It was good because they didn't pick on him as much. Or at least not directly to his face. They would talk though. Whisper.

The murmurs would spread and follow him everywhere, even into the dead of night, under his covers and into his ears.

He often used to wake up in a jolt, eyes furtively scanning the dorm, sweat slowly dripping down his neck and on the thin sleeping mat. Most guys would be restlessly sleeping at their spots and no one would ever be there. Next to him. Whispering unceasingly and driving him mad. Not at his makeshift bed at least.

Maybe he was paranoid.

Maybe it was the guilt.

Maybe it was real.

He didn't know and wasn't curious at all.

Mingi takes a deep breath for five seconds and holds it for five more, eyes fixed on the tree swaying with the wind and its branches dipping into the pond from time to time, disrupting the seeming calmness of its surface. He then lets it out for five seconds and repeats the breathing exercise for five rounds.

Deep breaths.

In the nose and through the mouth.

     Deep breaths.

Eyes fixed on a far away point.

          Deep breaths.

Focusing on counting to five.

              Deep breaths.

Branch swaying in time with Mingi's breaths.

                    Deep breaths..  .

U home?

Yep

Wanna come over?

I'll be there in 15

(read)

Mingi shot out of his appartement and reached Yunho's in ten minutes. They don't live that far away from each other. Yunho lived up a hill that is a bitch to climb though, that's why Mingi only occasionally went over.

But today, he tackles that godforsaken hill to the floor, and climbs it the fastest he's ever did.

He is trying to catch his breath when Yunho comes to open the door.

Thank God he lived on the ground floor. Mingi didn't think he could have climbed anything anymore, in his state.

"Wow, were you that excited to see me? I'm flattered."

"Shut the fuck up."

Yunho follows him inside laughing. He then watches as Mingi drops down heavily on his floor cushions with a delighted moan.

He fetches him a glass of water, "Here," and flops down next to him.

Mingi stays silent, trying to even out his breathing, flattening it into a less panicked, less distressed pant, eyes trained on Yunho's ceiling.

It's different.

It's a different ceiling.

Different from his ceiling.

Yunho doesn't have stucco squares covering the entire expense, like in his own appartement. And it isn't warehouse-like, plain and sturdy, industrial, either.

It is just plain white and smooth with a gigantic poster of a his favorite rock band pinned to it.

Mingi had gifted him that poster.

He doesn't even remember where he got such an immensity.

It must have cost him a lot.

But he loved it just as much.

He liked that band too.

Yunho lies down on his side, next to him, and rests his arm around Mingi's waist.

Mingi's stomach flips like it always does when Yunho's oversized hands come close to his waistline. Probably from anticipation of deadly tickles.

Yeah, probably.

"Is my ceiling more interesting than yours? Is that why you came by?"

"Yeah."

"Jerk."

"What? Shouldn't you be flattered?"

"I thought you came by because you missed me, not my ceiling."

"Yeah, that too. But mostly for the ceiling."

Yunho pinches Mingi's side at the sight of his teasing grin, "Jerk."

"Yah~" Mingi turns on his side as well, mimicking Yunho's position, and with a wicked smile he slips his hand under his friend's shirt, ready to pinch his waist in retaliation, "Don't start Yunho-yah..."

Yunho lingers on Mingi's expression, smile widening and teeth showing and cheeks bunching up and all, "Or what? I'm not scared of you- Yah!"

"Warned you."

"Oh, we're so on!"

And Mingi bursts into laughter as Yunho climbs on top of him, pinching and tickling wherever his hands could land.

Thank God he had Yunho.

He would never admit it to his face though, seeing how smug his friend is, sitting on top of him looking down at him trying to catch his breath with tears in his eyes.

.

"You never call anymore."

"M'sorry Eomma, I'll do better."

"Are you eating well at least?"

Mingi eyes his Ramyeon cabinet from the side and his pack of opened garlic chips on his coffee table, "More or less. Don't worry about me Eomma, I'm fine."

"I want to send you a package but since your father is driving through the city tomorrow he'll drop it off - Right, Yeobo? Don't forget it, I put it in the hallway!

- Mmh, I saw it. Isn't it too much for him alone, though?

- Don't worry about it, load it in the car now before you forget, tomorrow! - Mingi-yah?"

"Mmhm, Eomma."

"Make sure to make some space in your fridge, okay honey? It's not much, just a bunch of side dishes and some snacks I found at the convenience store."

"Uh, you didn't have to. I'm fine really-"

He gets interrupted by the tutting of his mom on the other end of the call, "No, no, my son, you have to make sure to eat well and stay healthy. Nothing's more important than your health Mingi-yah, you need to take care of yourself."

"Mmhm, I know."

"How's our Yunho doing? Is he eating well? You'll make sure to share with him, alright?"

"Yeah, I'll tell him you called. He'll probably scold me for letting you overwork yourself..."

"Nonsense, it is my pleasure. It makes me happy to see you both healthy... Anyways," Mingi can hear shuffling and the sound of a vacuum coming to life on the other line, "I'm hanging up. Don't forget that your father is coming by! Make some space in your fridge and say hi to Yunho for me, okay? Alright, take care my son."

"Mmhm, bye Eomma take care, you and Appa."

The line dies and Mingi throws his phone on the couch.

God, he hates phone-calls. So much.

He doesn't hate his mom. Just phone-calls in general.

The awkwardness of not knowing when to hang up, not knowing how the person is really like on the other end, not knowing how to stop someone from talking too much, not knowing what to do when there's a prolonged silence, not knowing when to stop talking, not knowing what kind of phonecall it is going to be... the emergency kind or the endless kind. The quick and informative kind or the stressful kind, the one you need to take in a hurry or the one you have to get your coffee brewed and a snack nearby for. The one that can make your heart stop. Or the one that makes you want to stop your heart yourself.

Uhg!

He just hates it.

And since it was his mom, and he doesn't hate her, he had to take that one.

He hates phone-calls and now he has to empty his fridge.

Awesome.

Mingi ever so slowly lowers himself on his legs, settling on a squat position, and opens the door to his student-sized fridge. Might as well start now before he gets an earful from his father later.

His fridge is mostly empty. He hasn't been on his weekly grocery run yet, so it's easier to rearrange the leftover items in it. He throws away what's gone bad and eyes the half-eaten Kimchi dish he received from his mom not even two weeks ago.

He should probably eat that.

Yeah, he'll just eat it with a pack of Ramyeon tonight for dinner. Good plan.

When his fridge seems all settled and everything looks okay-ish -- maybe vacuum his floor quickly for good measure -- he turns back to his couch and presses the space bar on his computer to resume his drama.

  YunHo

Ur mom told me to check if u emptied your fridge

(picture)

<3

Love that look on u

Your middle finger is delightful to look at

I'll treasure it

(picture)

Fuck u

I'm showing this convo to ur mom

(seen)

.

Mingi is lying in bed. It is the middle of the night in his defense, so he has every right to be.

It is currently an ungodly early hour of the morning and he hasn't slept a wink.

It's not like he has anything planned early the next day -- or that same morning, same difference. But he is feeling frustrated because he is tired.

He actually feels sleepy and needs to sleep and sleep doesn't want him and he is laying in bed in the dark in the middle of the night and he can't sleep.

He can't sleep.

The comforter slipped to the floor already, and his pillow has been punched multiple times.

He is hot all over and it is like his brain is on overdrive but he isn't really thinking about anything. Like he is doing a system update and he just needs to stay awake for an unknown amount of time, uselessly lying there. No thoughts. No dreams. No nothing.

Just empty.

Mingi closes his eyes.

Fuck it, he'll just force it. Isn't there a thing where if you lie there and don't move for ten minutes straight your body automatically falls asleep?

Yeah, he just has to do that.

He can do that and outsmart his brain.

Just lay there for ten minutes without moving, easy.

Mingi closes his eyes.

He is lying on his back, legs stretched out and hands on his belly. Nothing covering him. Just laying there.

He can feel his legs slowly falling asleep, progressively losing feeling, but he pushes the discomfort aside.

Nevermind, it's good. He is falling asleep. Yeah.

Mingi has his eyes closed.

Shut tight. Jaw clenched. Hands overheating, too warm on his stomach. Pinpricks stabbing his calfs. Lying there feels uncomfortable.

Plus he is pretty sure something is creeping up his leg, slipping up, up, up like a snake. Climbing his skin, in between his hairs, and zigzagging around. He can feel it moving about and although he's not supposed to move, his brain is screaming at him to get it off!

He can feel it crawling above the surface and it almost feels like it's moving under his skin, trying to force it's way out from inside his body. Tickling. Uncomfortable. Scary. Disgusting...

What if it was an actual bug?

Mingi's eyes snap open and his hand quickly comes to scratch the feeling away. Nails dig in the flesh hard. Scratching, scratching, scratching.

What the fuck was that anyways?

Are there bugs in his bed?

Oh my God!

Nails scrape his skin harshly, quickly, to get rid of the parasite. Digging in. Prying it out. Scratching, scratching, scratching.

Ew, ew, ew!

Mingi wouldn't dare look. What if it was a huge caterpillar. Or a bunch of ants. Or, or...

Ow, ow, ow...

It hurts. It hurts so bad. And it's wet. And it hurts. And-

Is that blood?

"Shit"

Tears well up, but Mingi is still able to find his phone and switch the light on to assess the damage.

"Shit, shit-"

There isn't too much blood. It's spotted in a smattering cluster on his bed sheet, contrasting against the crisp white, but nothing more.

His fingernails are red though. Incrusted with red blood and white dead skincells.

His thigh is red as well.

Bloodied and scratched and flaking with dead skin and hairs, and it is a mess and Mingi is crying and laughing and crying.

Damn.

Kind of a dramatic way to react to lack of sleep.

Was he being dramatic?

Yeah, probably.

Mingi gets out of bed and into the bathroom, doesn't even bother to turn the light on, he blindly shuffles through the cabinet.

He finds the antiseptic spray and a cotton pad and uses the light from his phone to clean his wound.

Sprays the antiseptic.

"Shit, ow!"

Wipes the wound.

"Ow, ow, ow!"

Fuck, he doesn't have anymore ointment. Or bandaids..

He hopes it's not going to leave a scar, though he doubts it, the wound is shallow.

"Mmhm, fine- it's fine... it'll uh- it'll dry on its own," he mumbles to himself, turning his phone off, "White blood cells. It's their job or something, right?"

He is answered with silence, his dark empty room gaping quietly at him,

"Right."

And back to his bed. Lying down. Waiting for sleep to come. Feeling too hot. Overwhelmed. Heart beating in his throat, choking his soft sobs. Thigh stinging. And eyes watery.

.

Mingi is pissed.

He is sitting on Yunho's floor, with Yunho leaning into his side and Hongjoong laying across their extended legs like it is some sort of massage-mat, and they were smoking pot.

Mingi doesn't know how to smoke pot, so he is stuck watching them pass the joint back and forth.

What is he even still doing here?

He simply came by to drop Yunho's labeled side-dishes that his mom prepared for him, to their rightful owner.

That's why he came in the first place, but he didn't know how he ended up serving as a free-use mattress for both his friends. They always get more touchy-feely when high and if he knew this was how he was going to end up, he wouldn't have lingered.

Hongjoong didn't bring alcohol this time, but Mingi doesn't know if this was any better. His friend is whining and kicking his feet like an impudent child and Mingi wants to flick him on the forehead.

Mingi is sure that if he had the ability to take a drag out of the joint without coughing his lungs out, Hongjoong wouldn't be as annoying and Yunho wouldn't feel as heavy. But he doesn't know how to and he's pissed. He physically can't, and in theory -- maybe, that was a good thing. He still feels like kicking his feet like a spoiled child to rival Hongjoong, though.

Mingi is aware of how little of a problem this is. It is the worst thing to complain about and Mingi knows he's acting like a brat, but in his defense he thinks the fumes are getting to his head.

"It was horrible! I couldn't think of anything to say! I just stayed silent like a dumbass!"

Hongjoong had sent them a text earlier, and maybe Mingi thought he was being overdramatic because he was annoyed, but the amount of distress that it gave off felt a bit exaggerated to his taste.

  HongJoong

SEONGWHA!

FUCKING!

CALLED!

ME!

Isn't that a good

thing??

I WAS MORTIFIED!!

AND I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHIIING!!

AND HE SAID HE MISSED ME!!!

AND IT WAS FUCKING AWKWARD

BECAUSE I COULDN'T FUCKING SPEEEEAK!!!!!!

Mingya~~~~

It's all oveeeeeeer!!!!!!!!

(seen)

Yunho guffaws everytime Hongjoong kicks his feet and hides his face with his tiny jewelled hands, "You kind of brought this upon yourself man, you used to act all cold and aloof around him. You probably don't know how to show him you like him and you're just as fucking lost as he is.."

Mingi, being the only clear-minded one in the room -- more or less -- seems to be the only one who's surprised by Yunho's sudden wise-ness.

Hongjoong, however, looks at him in alarm, "But I fucking confessed to the guy, Yunho-yah!"

He scrambles upright to face them both, "Right before he enlisted I told him and all, I even went in for a kiss and-"

"Wait, what?" Mingi and Yunho simultaneously exclaim, and Yunho bursts into laughter when Mingi turns to him with a roll of the eyes.

Dumbass..

"You never mentioned kissing him."

"That's 'cause I fucking didn't," Hongjoong looks down at his hands in defeat, "I told him I've liked him for a while and that I'd wait for him to come back, and I leaned in to kiss him because he wasn't saying anything, but he fucking backed away as soon as my face got closer."

Mingi's heart hurts a little.

Ouch...

"He fucking backed away! What was I supposed to do? I waited for him to say something, but he was just looking at me with wide eyes and a stunned face, like this was the most unimaginable thing to happen to him, like, ever. So I turned away to leave, because what the fuck else was I supposed to do? But he called me, and I turned around, and he said he was sorry and I cried myself to sleep."

Mingi feels a pressure on his chest, a pang of pain under his ribs, around his heart area, seeing that his friend kept this for himself for so long and was hurting all this time.

Fucking ow!

"It's freaking over, I don't even fucking think we can be friends again after that, so I don't know why he called me, and I'm scared and it's pathetic..."

"No it's not-"

"Hongjoong-ah! Snap out of it! Stop the fucking pity-party and look at the situation from an outside point of view," Yunho cut in with a harsh tone, straightening up and putting off the joint for now. He deposits it in the ashtray sitting between them.

"You were always extra stand-offish around Seonghwa-hyung, I would have never thought you harbored a crush on the guy if you hadn't fucking told me, dude."

Mingi's hands tighten around nothing. How could he be so harsh towards their friend when he was so obviously hurting like that?

He doesn't say anything though because Hongjoong seems unphased and is listening intently.

"You wouldn't let him touch you man, like, he couldn't even fucking pat your shoulder! I even remember that one time you slapped his hand away when he tried picking a bug out of your hair! You're always harsh on him and he thought, most of the time, that he did something wrong to upset you or something. How confusing do you think it must have been for him, hyung?"

Fuck.

Yunho is right.

Wow..

"I'm not saying you shouldn't feel hurt, Hongjoong-ah. I'm just saying you shouldn't fucking give up so easily when he tried. He's been trying to please you all along. You shouldn't give up, not when he called, after all this time, eventhough he was confused. You should try as hard as he is," Yunho sighs, calming down slowly, now that his intervention was coming to an end, "You shouldn't soak in your own hurt and trap yourself in your own head selfishly. You should keep trying, start showing him that you like him. You've never been a coward Joong-ah, I don't want you to start now..."

Yunho's hand had slipped under Mingi's shirt, drawing random patterns on his lower back right over the seam of his pants, sometime during his monolog. He was probably trying to soothe himself, to calm down. Stay grounded. Or maybe it was for Mingi's sake, because his hands have relaxed from the fists he was clenching earlier. Maybe it was for them both.

Hongjoong is looking at his hands, playing with his rings. Removing them and slipping them back on.

He sighs heavily, shoulders dropping with the movement, "You're right."

"I know I am."

"Don't act all high and mighty on me now! You're literally wiser because of the pot, nothing more. Don't let it get to your head."

"Yah! Are you saying that I'm usually dumb?"

"Yeah," Hongjoong snorts at Yunho's pout, "Exactly."

"Minkyah~ hyung is being a jerk to me," Yunho looks up at Mingi, arms circling his waist and intertwining his fingers, securing them around him, "Save me!" And he buries his face in Mingi's neck.

Hongjoong snickers. He lied down somewhere at their feet and was trying to light the joint again.

Mingi wiggles his toes in his face, in retaliation, and Yunho hums against his skin when he hears Hongjoong's offended yelp.

Mingi's insides tickle and he doesn't even react when Hongjoong slaps his foot away, too lost in the weird flutter in his stomach and trying hard to even out his heartbeat.

Shit

.

Mingi doesn't know how Yunho gives such good relationship advice when he's never been in a serious relationship, like, ever.

  HongJoong

(picture)

HE RESPONDED TO MY TEXTTTTT

!!!!

WHAT THE FUCKKK

Good 4 u man

(picture)

HE SENT ME A SELCA!!!

Yes

I can see that

What with the pictures and all

-_-

Ur boring

Sorry?

(read)

Yunho had been in a relationship, actually. Though it lasted a month. And the girl cheated on him. And he didn't really seem that phased by it. And he never really talked about it besides this one time.

They were at Yunho's appartement, and it was around the time they were about to enlist. It was one of their last sleepovers before real life hit them in the back of the head with a baseball bat.

Yunho was laying his head in Mingi's lap and mocking him for being single since he was born. Mingi in a bout of anger and annoyement pulled the cheating girlfriend trigger and Yunho's eyes went instinct.

His smile disappeared so fast, Mingi was sure he was having motion sickness.

He probably felt sick for other reasons but, blinded by pettiness, he pushed the feeling aside, loading the gun in preparation.

"Well at least I put myself out there."

Mingi should have expected the stab.

Yunho also had weapons up his sleeve.

"And look where that got you. At least I never got cheated on."

Yunho was angry.

Yunho was angrier than when Mingi stole his bike, in middle school, and handed it back with a crooked wheel and a broken chain.

Yunho was angry and he shot up from his spot in Mingi's lap, to face Mingi on an equal level.

"You're fucking unbelievable! Don't act like it's a choice. You don't even let people get close to you, like nobody's worth your attention or something."

Ouch...

"Sometimes I wonder if you're even a person. If you even want to be one."

Second stab.

"You don't bother with people, you don't talk to them. You don't engage in anything. You don't bother dealing with them."

That makes three.

"I don't know what's so good about staying alone forever and only knowing loneliness."

Fourth.

Fatal

And Mingi was starting to taste bitterness in his mouth. His chest hurt. His hands were fisting the floor cushion bellow.

"Mingi-yah."

Mingi wasn't looking at him.

Yunho was right. And it hurt. And he couldn't look at him, he still had pride. Still had a front to hold.

"Mingi-yah, look at me."

Mingi didn't budge.

He wasn't crying, Yunho probably wanted to check. But he wasn't. He was just gathering his wits.

"Mingi," Yunho's long-ass fingers came to rest under his chin and raised it, so they could see eye-to-eye, "You're not unlikable, that's just what you keep convincing yourself to be. But you're not. People like you, how could they not?"

Yunho got closer then, shuffling forward to straddle Mingi's outstretched legs, "I just wish you could see that, but you don't and it makes me angry that you don't."

Yunho sighed and cupped his friend's face, "You haven't even had your first kiss and we're enlisting soon..."

Mingi shrugged.

He didn't care.

What was a first kiss anyways?

He wasn't waiting around for it, it'll eventually happen with time. And if not. Well, whatever.

"You don't even know what it feels like to kiss someone."

"I don't care, Yunho-yah."

Yunho was caressing Mingi's cheeks one second and his mouth was on his the other.

Mingi was stunned.

Eyes still wide open. Mouth unmoving, being pressed down by another mouth. His friend's mouth.

It felt weird and it only lasted a couple of seconds.

It wasn't even a kiss. More like a press of the lips.

And it was over as fast as it happened.

Yunho backed away swiftly with a playful smile, cheeks bunched up and shining eyes, watching as Mingi stared at him unemotionally.

"What the fuck was that?"

Mingi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he watched Yunho's laughter build up to become louder and louder. And he joined in eventually because what the fuck?

"Now you can't say you haven't had your first kiss."

Between two bouts of laughter, Mingi was able to manage, "So you just stole a kiss from me?"

Yunho was calming down progressively. They were now lying on the floor, bodies parallel to each other, and faces turned towards one another.

"No. I gave you your first kiss, nuance."

Mingi shoved him with a huff, "Pervert."

And Yunho shuffled closer, wrapping his arms around Mingi's waiste, "Yes, only for you~"

And he fell asleep like that, wrapped around Mingi like a koala and breathing on the side of his neck.

Meanwhile, Mingi spent several hours trying to even out his heartbeat and his breathing, and several more trying to will his brain to shut up!

Shit

.

.

He stirs awake.

It's dark    . He's     cold. Like, very     cold.

He can feel the chill breeze ruffling his hair and he knows goosebumps texture his skin.

He's lying down.

He doesn't know where he is but he's too     cold    to care.

He can't move. Probably because of the     cold.

He doesn't want to move anyways.

His entire body feels numb. Probably because of the     cold.

The sky      is dark      up      above     .

"Can you find it?"

"Do you see it?"

Dark figures are looming over him.

              He

just               

     noticed         them.

That's probably what stirred him awake.

"I told you," cold fingers slip around in his chest, rummaging, "he doesn't have one."

"Damn, no wonder I can't find it."

He's just letting himself be probed, prodded and poked by the strange figures.

He's too numbed by the cold to react anyways.

The sky is huge.

Black.

Deep.

Stars.

Everywhere.

"What a fucking weirdo."

"How can a human being be missing a heart?"

"Honestly I never thought he had one."

He feels his lungs fill with      freezing    oxygen. Feels them swell. Feels every single alveoli grow. Air hitting       them               raw.

His skin is

gone.

Nothing's

containing him.

The fingers are still digging around.

"Always knew he wasn't human."

"Sociopath."

"He'd probably kill us all to get himself a functional heart."

"Should we help him find one?"

        They

were now looking at his

face from above.       

Hiding the sky with their heads.

Faces.

                  Faceless           faces.  . .

Faces he can't recognize by how

normal

they were. He wasn't even sure they were different people. They all looked the   same.

"Look at him, there's no point."

"You're right, he's too far gone."

   Mingi.

       Ipyeong!

Song Mingi..

"I'm bored, let's go."

"Yeah, I'm hungry."

"Let's go find another one."

"Yeah, I'm starving."

   Mingi..

Who         was that?

He is laying on the ground.     Cold    .

Cold    

around, everywhere. He fists his hands.

   Mingi.

The scrunch sounds like snow.

       Ipyeong Song Min-Gi.

The snow is     cold     .

Freezing.

He raises his arm to feel his chest.

He is feeling extra cold around there.

His hand lands on his bare lung. Slimy and slippery.   Weird.          Viscose.             Spongy.                             Viscid.

He takes a breath and they

grow                                             under his fingertips.                                          

       Ipyeong Song fucking Min-Gi.

His finger slides upwards, upwards. Where he knows his heart is supposed to be. Right between his lungs, breathing raggedly, tilted to the left, on the side.

The sky is immense.

His fingers find                                                         nothing.

Is he        dead?

No heart. Nowhere.

He is breathing though.

The sky is so dark.

His chest has a hole in it for all the world to see.

Lungs hit by the snow filled air.

      Heart missing from it's spot.

He raises his hand in front of his eyes.

        It is red.

Soaking with                             blood.

But there is nothing to pump it.

   Mingi.

His lungs have      frozen over.

Who is              that?

Is he dying?

Have his lungs competely solidified?

He can't.    breathe.        .     .   .  . . ...

   Mingi-yah.

                      .                .   .  . . ..No air is getting.   in. in-pyeong..  .   .             .               .

.  . Nothing.                         

Nothing.   .  .

His head is  .  doubling in size       .

   It's going to explode

Mingi wakes up in a jolt. He takes a deep breath. He stopped breathing at some point during the night.

Mingi is trying to breathe but, but..

No matter how much air enters his body through his nose, it doesn't feel like it's filling his lungs. Not enough. Never enough.

Is he dying?

He is taking short shallow breaths and trying hard to not die.

He can't die.

Not like that.

He doesn't want to die.

Tears well up in his eyes.

He doesn't want to die.

No. No. No. No, no, no, no...

Mingi throws the comforter to the side and crawls out of bed.

He needs to survive.

He clutches his thigh with a death grip. Clawing his fingers to the flesh, to stay. awake. stay. alert. stay. there.

He can't fucking die.

Fuck.

Phone. Where is his phone.

Mingi is full on crying now.

Which.

Isn't helpful.

At all.

In this situation.

He sticks the phone to his ear.

It's dark.

He hears the rings.

And it feels like an eternity.

Before the line finally picks up.

Mingi is fucking dying!

"Mingyah what is it?"

"Can't." Mingi's breaths are whistling at this point, "Breathe."

"What? What do you mean?"

Fuck!

"Mingi-yah, talk to me!"

Is he stupid?

"Yunho-ya-"

He is unable to talk, in between hiccuping breaths, but he pushes on.

He wasn't gonna fucking die!

"C-can't brea-the. Help-"

"Ming-yah stay on the line okay? Take a breath with me," Mingi focuses on Yunho's voice, "Okay, one in."

Yunho breathes in, counting to five.

"One, two, three, four, five. Hold it."

Mingi holds his breath. A sob escapes his throat. His head hurts.

"Good Mingi-yah, you're doing great hold it for five for me, okay?"

Mingi nods eventhough Yunho can't see him. He counts to five.

"Right, good. Now exhale as slowly as you can through your mouth princess, you can do it."

Mingi exhales but it doesn't last five beats. It comes out too fast. Punched out of him.

Another sob escapes his throat.

"Again, Mingi-yah. One more time, come on, don't be scared, I'm here."

Mingi is trying to swallow his whines.

"Take a deep breath with me. One, two. That's right, slowly. Three, four and five. Hold it."

"Mmh.."

"Four, five. Good boy, now exhale for me. Slower than last time."

Mingi closes his eyes and holds it in as much as he can. He manages it with difficulty.

"You're doing great. One more time."

"Mm.."

Yunho counts while Mingi breathes. Mingi can only hear Yunho's voice, phone pressed painfully to his ear, molding the shape of the device on it.

Yunho tells him to do it again, and again, and again. Until Mingi's breathing evens out to a less panicked, less shallow, less painful motion.

Tears are flowing on Mingi's face, and sobs come out more easily now, ripping through his throat and escaping the confines of his body.

"Can you tell me where you are, princess? What do you see around you?"

"My.. room.."

Mingi can't manage more, he's full on wailing into the microphone.

"Tell me more baby, what's around you?"

Mingi's sobs stutter for a beat at the endearment, but they're too powerful to stop altogether.

Mingi opens his eyes, and sniffs, eyes racking his surroundings, "My bed.."

"Yes, what else?"

"I-I'm sitting on th-the floor."

"Good baby, what else?"

"I c-can feel the comforter under m-my toes."

"Mmh.." Mingi hears the sound of a lock unlatching through the phone but doesn't linger on it for long, "Tell me more baby.."

"I f-fell from my bed 'cause I-I couldn't brea-hea-the.."

"It's okay, princess, keep talking.."

"And I-I thought I was d-dying."

Mingi had calmed down enough for his voice to only be interrupted by small hiccups.

The door to his room opens as he hears Yunho's voice come from two different areas at once, "I'm coming into your room, okay?"

Mingi raises his head to peek above his mattress, and sees Yunho pad silently towards him.

Mingi's face contorts in relief as a new layer of tears covers his cheeks, "Yunho-yah"

"I know, I'm here. Don't be scared."

And he picks Mingi up from the floor, arms around his chest taking leverage under his armpits, and raises him up, enough for Mingi's legs to shoot his body up into a somewhat standing position. He immediately circles his arms around him.

"Yunho-y-ah"

Yunho softly tutts in his ear, arms securely gathering him and hands drawing soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

Yunho lowers them on Mingi's bed and, without letting go of him, lays them down slowly.

One of his hands is bringing Mingi's head towards the crook of his neck, big and comforting, scratching his scalp, and there.

Mingi sniffs.

Yunho hums.

Mingi tightens his grip around Yunho's waiste.

Yunho tangles their legs together on the bed.

Mingi can hear Yunho's heartbeat and he wonders if Yunho ever heard his.

.

Mingi doesn't sleep that night.

He can't.

He told himself it was because the sound of Yunho's heartbeats was keeping him awake. But deep down he knew. He was sacred.

Dread kept a tight grip around his throat throughout the night, and the sun rose, and he wasn't rested.

Yunho had fallen asleep.

Or at least Mingi thinks so.

Hopes so.

Because he spent all night fixed on him. Hands roaming his back. Legs feeling up along the length of his calfs. Feet covering his cold toes.

Mingi couldn't linger for long watching Yunho asleep, though. It felt wrong somehow.

It didn't sit right with him.

It felt like it wouldn't mean nothing.

So he burried his head further into Yunho's chest.

Rested his hand on the one that was already in his hair.

Fisted Yunho's shirt and brought him closer to his body.

Surrounded himself with his smell.

His steady breaths.

The regular sounds of his pumping heart.

The sun is peaking through the crack in his curtains and him and Yunho have their heads resting on the same pillow, face to face.

Mingi's nose is so close to Yunho's, they could brush if he slightly moved forward.

But he won't do that.

They're not like that.

It would be unfair to Yunho.

Sleeping Yunho.

Mingi goes to turn around, to face the opposite side of his room and give poor Yunho a break, when he feels a tug on his shirt.

Mingi freezes.

What the hell?

Wasn't he sleeping just now?

There is another tug.

Mingi didn't have enough time to turn around completely and now he is stuck laying on his back.

What the fuck?

Yunho's hand tugs at his shirt again and the other one crawls its way up to the back of Mingi's neck. Mingi closes his eyes in panic and lets his body be manhandled into facing Yunho again.

There's a puff of air on his face, and it smells like morning breath and Mingi scrunches his nose in distaste. Yunho huffs out another laugh and lowers Mingi's head with both hands to place it under his chin.

He then plants a kiss on the top of his hair and hugs his head loosely, "You should sleep a little princess, it's still early."

Mingi unclenches his fists. Unfolds his fingers and, tentatively, lays one of his hands flat on Yunho's chest.

After a while he removes it to run a finger from the exposed notch between his collarbones down his sternum, to stop on his plexus.

"You weren't asleep either," he finally murmurs, hoping with everything he has that Yunho went back to sleep and didn't hear him.

Luck isn't on his side today.

"How can I fall asleep when you can't?"

Mingi scrambles away from Yunho in horror, "You stayed up all night?"

"You did too."

Fuck.

"Yeah, but-" what? I was a total creep and couldn't get my hands off you when you were awake the whole time!

"But I almost died," he ends up saying, bringing his hands to his chest.

His heart is hammering in his ribcage, being thrown around like a bouncy ball, hitting the bones so hard he is surprised it doesn't brake them and out from under his skin.

Yunho watches him with narrowed eyes and tangles their feet together, ankles securely gripping him and keeping him in place, "More of a reason to stay awake."

Mingi can make out a hint of a smile on Yunho's face, and his heart swings itself around in the cage inside his chest.

Shit.

"Yunho.."

Yunho stares, head sinking in the pillow, eyes shining with something Mingi can't -- doesn't want to -- decipher, expression unreadable. Like he's waiting.

Waiting on Mingi.

Shit, shit.

"Yunho I'm sor-"

"Don't."

Mingi's heart is being pierced with a knife. It fucking hurts.

Tears are welling up, or at least, whatever is left after last night.

Fuck, shit, fuck. Fuck!

Yunho smiles at him then.

It's a sad smile.

The corners of his mouth aren't quite reaching his eyes. His lips are stiff and his gaze drops down to his hands.

"It's fine. Just-" he reaches forward, long bony fingers taking hold of Mingi's fists, "Just lay down here and sleep a little, okay?"

Mingi wants to cry.

There's a solid lump in his throat and a pang in his chest and he wants to cry. Yunho wraps his hands over Mingi's, outsizing his balled fists, covering them almost completely. Comforting.

Mingi bites the inside of his lip to keep it from trembling and sniffs, unable to take his eyes off Yunho.

Yunho who's lying there, on his pillow, on his bed.

Yunho who's ankles and hands are keeping him there, grounded, containing him.

Yunho who stayed up all night watching over Mingi and didn't say anything about Mingi's weird behavior.

Yunho who never judged Mingi, ever.

Yunho who answered his phone in the middle of the night and came running to help him.

Yunho who isn't asking more of Mingi because he knows.

Yunho who is telling him to sleep in his arms when it is making him sad. When it's hurting him.

Mingi sniffs eyes filled with tears threatening to overflow.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

It's on the tip of his tongue.

But Yunho told him not to.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

He couldn't say it.

He won't hurt Yunho more.

So Mingi shuffles closer, head on his pillow, face to face with Yunho.

Eye to eye.

Mingi can see himself in Yunho's eyes. Mingi can see his own eyes in Yunho's eyes.

It is a mirror in which each was revelling in the other's reflection.

They were each other's Narciss in that moment.

They could see the hurt cast back at them.

A tear slips.

Yunho whipes it.

Mingi rests his forehead on Yunho's chest.

Yunho's infinite fingers tangle in his hair, "It's okay."

No, it's not. But he'll sleep for now.

Mingi closes his eyes.

.

Mingi's awake. He's been awake for a few minutes now but he won't open his eyes.

He needs to make sure.

He's fisting his hands hard, trying to see if his nails, digging into his palms, hurt.

Not enough. But there's a dull sting.

Mingi lowers one of his hands and pinches his thigh.

Ow!

Okay, okay.

He can open his eyes now.

Slowly, he cracks one eye open and then the other, and sees that he's alone in his bed.

The curtains are shut tight, no light is seeping through the crack from earlier in the morning.

Mingi turns on his back and spreads his limbs on the mattress.

He takes a deep breath and gets up with a sigh.

He needs to go to the bathroom. That's what woke him up. His bladder shook him out of his slumber.

But he needs to come out of his room to get to the bathroom and Yunho's not in here.

Did Yunho leave?

The tiny, ugly, selfish voice in the back of Mingi's head hopes he left.

But a much bigger part of him, the part that wants to cling and hang on to him, hopes he stayed.

Mingi's heart is beating for its life when he stands up and pads on his tiptoes towards the door. He cracks it open and peeks an eye in the small opening for any sign of a lanky figure and a black mop of hair.

His scanning eyes see no one.

He left.

Mingi straightens up from his previous hunched position behind the door and swings it open in a bout of annoyement. "Unbelievable.." he mumbles, stomping loudly towards his bathroom.

When he goes to slip into his bathroom-slides he finds the spot empty.

His hand on the door handle moves on its own and the door swings open to reveal the lanky figure with a black and wet mop of hair standing in the opening.

Mingi is startled, don't get him wrong, he's so startled actually, that he stays rooted to his spot, hand previously resting on the handle now hanging dumbly in the air.

"Mingi-yah, you're awake."

Mingi blinks. 

Mingi's heart reacts just like when he drives on the highway and he suddenly becomes aware of the speed at which he's moving. So fast. Too fast. Deadly. He can feel the blood pump in his arteries, he is scared one of them might brake and spill. His ears are filled with cotton.

Yunho is patiently waiting for Mingi to either answer him or move aside, and Mingi isn't doing any of both. Just standing there.

His face must be tinted red.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

"I want to pee."

"Oh, yeah sorry. Let me just," and Yunho's big hands hold him around his shoulders to switch their positions, "Here you go. Bathroom's all yours."

"You didn't leave."

"No. Now go to the bathroom, I'll be in the kitchen."

Mingi is stuck, stupidly watching as Yunho shuts the door on him, giving him his privacy.

The click of the door snaps him out of it, and he goes about his business.

He lingers at the sink for slightly too long, eyes lost in his reflection.

Yunho should have left.

Why is Yunho staying around?

Why was Yunho waiting around for him?

Why, why, why?

There's a knock, and Mingi jumps, heart stuttering in his chest.

"Mingi-yah, 'you hungry?"

Mingi opens the door and walks past Yunho.

What was he still doing here?

"I made coffee."

Mingi paces the living room.

What is he still doing here?

"Mingi-yah"

What the fuck?

"Mingi-"

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

Mingi doesn't want to ask. He doesn't want to look at Yunho either.

Mingi's frustrated.

And he's a coward.

And Yunho's still here.

And he doesn't get it.

And he's selfish because deep down he's relieved he's here.

"Mingi-yah"

Mingi turns towards the coffee maker and, with a shaky hand, he grabs the handle of the pot and moves sideways towards the stacked mugs on the counter.

Yunho sighs and takes the pot from Mingi's hands, much steadier. Less likely to drop it.

And it angers Mingi further.

Mingi grabs the counter, "Why are you still here, Yunho?"

Yunho doesn't respond and pours the coffee steadily into two separate mugs.

"What's fucking wrong with you, Yunho-yah?"

Yunho puts the pot back into the coffee maker and walks around Mingi to grab the milk from the fridge.

"I don't get it. I don't get you. Are you some sort of masochist? Do you like hurting yourself?"

Yunho pours milk into one of the mugs and takes the other one, the one with plain black coffee, and sips from it.

"Yunho-yah! Why do you fucking like me?"

Yunho rests his hips on the counter next to Mingi and hands him his latte, "Drink your coffee Mingi-yah."

He sounds exhausted. Now that Mingi's looking at him, it doesn't look like he slept a wink.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Mingi won't say it.

Yunho told him not to.

Mingi takes his mug and goes to his room.

Shutting the door behind him. Putting a solid limit between them.

He can't do it.

He's weak.

He can't fucking look at him.

.

Mingi's phone is dead.

And his charger is in the living room. Outside of his room.

And he knows Yunho's still here because he doesn't have music to distract him anymore and he can hear him shuffling around out there.

Before his phone died, it rang with many notifications.

  HongJoong

Do u need to talk?

Yunho wont stop calling

What is it?

Nothing

It doesn't seem like nothing

(seen)

  YunHo

Mingiya come out

Come on don't be like that

Aren't u hungry?

U haven't eaten all day

U still have a lot of your mom's side dishes..

I made Bibimbap

Mingya

Minkya

I have ur charger

I know u're seeing these

Please Mingi..

Now the sun has probably set, though he can't really tell because the curtains are still shut tight.

He doesn't know how long he's been lying there for, on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Nothing's really going through his mind and it's for the best. He doesn't want to think. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to be. He doesn't want to exist.

He just wants to get lost in his stupid stucco ceiling and drown.

He doesn't feel anything right now.

He doesn't even know if he's breathing, to be honest. He's just lying down waiting.

Waiting for Yunho to come to his senses. Waiting for him to leave. Stop hanging onto him. Stop waiting around for him.

Waiting for everything to go back to the way it was when he didn't exist for anyone.

When he was the space between what he imagined himself to be and what people made him out to be. Always distant from him, never really there.

The time nobody expected anything from him, and he didn't expect anything from anybody either.

The time when he wasn't happy, nor was he unhappy. The time he was nothing but still something.

The time he was just enough to stop his skin from collapsing.

Back when he wasn't a terrible person. Back when he was no-one.

But-

God!

But now, now..

Now he is painfully aware of missing something. He doesn't know what, but he can feel it, in every breath, in every move, in every blink, in every heartbeat.

The feeling of emptiness, of longing. This dreadful feeling of only liking something, loving something, he doesn't know.

Overlooked something important.

Craved something he unknowingly skipped.

Mingi clamps his eyes shut.

No. No. No.

Don't think about it.

Don't think about it.

Mingi doesn't hear the knock at his door. Or said door opening carefully. Or a figure making its way to the bed.

Mingi only registers movement when the weight of his phone on the pillow next to his head is removed, and when he hears the telltale chime of his phone being plugged in.

Mingi doesn't open his eyes though, his heart is throwing itself against his ribs.

He's surprised it hasn't been reduced to mush.

He feels a finger uncertainly rake through his hair, right next to his ear, and pull out immediately.

"I'm leaving for now, Mingi-yah. There's food on the table, please don't starve yourself."

A beat goes by and Mingi hears steps walking away. The door to his bedroom shuts with a click.

Mingi ignores the prickling behind his eyelids and the lump in his throat, and waits to hear the front door lock.

He's terrible.

Is that what being a person is?

Probably not.

People aren't terrible on purpose... or are they? Maybe, but not like that.

He's a terrible person.

He doesn't want to do anything about it though.

He thinks Yunho deserves better, regarding whatever information Mingi glossed over, too caught in his own stupid, boring life. Better than him.

But he can't help how Yunho feels, and he knows it, and he's not ready to disspoint him.

He's not ready to face him, open his chest with his hands, and show him it's empty.

He's not ready to peel the skin, painfully, and watch as Yunho's eyes scan the empty spot for what's supposed to be there.

He doesn't want to show him the place where he's resided inside himself, retreated, disorganized and filling up his stomach to the brim.

He doesn't want it to spill out of his mouth, throw it up, because of those infinite, nagging fingers tugging at his bottom lip, hungry and longing for Mingi to tell, before he knows what to say.

He would, though.

He would do anything for him.

He would hunt for the missing piece of himself if Yunho asked him to.

But, but, but..

It's that moment that he's dreading.

The moment of in between.

The moment Yunho would realize and Mingi would have to hold it together.

He's not ready.

Not yet.

No.

It's for the best.

This is for the best.

And if Yunho gets bored from waiting, then it's all for the better. Mingi won't have to dread that moment anymore.

But for now, he will wait.

Mingi is lying down on his mattress eyes fixed on the ceiling, he doesn't know what hour it is. He's just laying there.

Doesn't know if he's breathing.

But his stomach gurgles and he laughs out loud.

"Thank God I live alone."

.

Mingi is sitting outside the seven-eleven in his neighborhood, alone, and at peak hour. It is now 8 PM and he is rigidly watching as a group of middle schoolers thromb through the glass door, bottleneck the entrance, and fill the tiny store little by little.

He watched them go inside like sand pouring into an hourglass. It was horrifying.

Small figure after small figure, one by one, they managed to squeeze their way inside and squirm their way outside. Not a fear in sight, they were simply driven by instinct, strategically picking what they needed, money already in hand and not wasting a second to go about their night.

Many unfortunate adult customers found themselves stuck outside for a while, unable to go in and grab their craved beer before heading home to their wife. Or heading back to work. Mingi didn't know.

He also doesn't know what a bunch of kids were doing out, still in their school uniforms and backpacks hanging on their shoulders, at such an hour either.

Does school end this late nowadays?

Or are they all headed home from the academy?

Mingi doesn't know either.

And a shiver runs through him as he imagines the entrance of the store getting jammed with bodies, stuck like a plug. He shakes his head as he thinks that those kids would trample their way in and outside if they had to, with no mercy at all.

How fucked up is it to be starved to this point?

So much so that one wouldn't care about stepping over other living people to make a way for themselves.

A loud honk startles him out of his fatalistic scenario-making and his neck almost snaps out of place when he turns his head towards the honking car.

What was he doing outside again?

He didn't remember.

His heart isn't strong enough for these situations, he wouldn't be surprised if it gave out a minute from now.

Mingi's sweating anxiously, but he's not budging from his spot. He can't.

He's sitting on one of the plastic chairs outside of the store with an empty plastic cup of some viral drink he saw on social media sitting on the table shielding him from the road.

Right.

That's why he had gone out.

He felt a strong urge to taste one of those. It was an excuse but now he found himself stuck outside.

He will not go back inside to fetch something else, eventhough his stomach his aching.

He doesn't make a move to get up and leave either. Not even to throw his cup away. He can't.

So he stays in his spot, unmoving, and watches with horror as a throng of people pass by the store.

After a while, and he's being honest when he says he doesn't know how long, the worker from the seven-eleven comes out with two cans,

"Want one?"

Mingi stares at him.

What the hell?

He reads WooYoung on the name-tag, scribbled and stuck on his work-shirt -- some sort of uniform.

"It's coffee."

Mingi stares at the can then and shrugs.

So Wooyoung puts it on the tabletop, "Here, it's on me. Don't worry about it."

Worry about what?

Mingi wants to ask, but he doesn't.

He stares at the canned coffee silently.

Wooyoung then fills the silence, "I saw you sitting there all this time, all the while I had to tackle the curse of nourishing those poor school-kids, and you looked positively distressed."

He snickers, taking a sip from his can and grimacing, "I don't even like this shit but I can't drink on the job, my boss would hang me."

Mingi raises his head at the sudden graphic metaphor -- at least he hoped it was one. Wooyoung wasn't paying attention to him. His gaze was lost on a far away point in the distance, zoned in on the horizon. Unfazed.

"You should feel lucky that I'm spending my break keeping you company, I usually avoid doing that out here. Lots of drunk customers I don't want to deal with. But you seem okay," he turns to look at Mingi then, scanning, "a bit awkward but okay. So yeah.."

"Th-thanks?"

Wooyoung snorts, cheeks bunching up and revealing long dimples slicing his cheeks in half, there is a strange form of delight glinting in his dark eyes, "Sure, my pleasure, like I said. You seem okay."

He finishes his can and cruches it with one hand, and Mingi shouldn't find that hot at all, but he does. He throws his can and Mingi's empty plastic cup in separate trashcans and turns to Mingi, doorhandle in hand, "Do you need something? Should I call someone or will you be okay on your own?"

Mingi shakes his head in the negative and Wooyoung nods and pushes the door open to go back behind his counter.

Mingi eyes the canned coffee again and pulls out his phone.

He's not okay.

He only has one viable option, seeing that he's avoiding Yunho for the moment and he clicks on the conversation.

He's not calling Hongjoong.

He's not that desperate.

I'm at the 7/11 in the neighborhood

Wanna come?

And he waits.

Hongjoong probably has other things to worry about right now.

Like trying to break the record of how many bottles of soju one can drink in a single sitting. Or fawning over Seonghwa's conversation skills.

Plus Hongjoong doesn't live in this neighborhood, it'll take at least 30 minutes if he takes a cab.

Nvm

But his friend chooses that moment to reply, and Mingi's shoulders drop.

  HongJoong

Omw

Don't move

(seen)

Mingi's leg starts bouncing under the table.

His resolve just broke and he wants to go home now.

He wants to get back inside of his appartement and bury himself under his bedding.

And Hongjoong appears in his field of vision way too soon. Mingi checks his phone, it's 8:47 PM.

How did he get here in ten minutes?

Mingi doesn't get the chance to ask because Hongjoong beelines towards the door of the store and pushes it open.

Mingi's not following him back inside.

Wooyoung will think he's weird.

He shouldn't care.

He knows he shouldn't. Plus he doesn't know Wooyoung, and Wooyoung doesn't know him so it doesn't matter.

But Mingi's not getting back inside anyways.

Surprisingly quickly, Hongjoong comes out with a plastic bag filled with beers, and a smile followed by a "Have a nice shift" that sounds way too familiar for someone greeting a worker.

"Do you know him?"

"Who do you think sells me hangover drinks when I get back from your's or Yunho's?"

Mingi looks back at Wooyoung, who's now scrolling on his phone with a lollipop in between his lips.

Hongjoong flops on the chair next to Mingi and opens a can with one hand.

That was cool-

Shut up!

The other holding an unopened can for Mingi to take, "You're drinking tonight."

And it's final, but Mingi protests, "Here? Are we staying outside? No," he pushes the can away with his palm, "I'm not staying here any longer."

But he doesn't make a move to leave.

Hongjoong opens the can and hands it to Mingi, "Or, you could've just asked me to open it for you, babbo-yah."

It didn't feel like he was calling him dumb for the beer, but Mingi isn't talking about Yunho with Hongjoong.

Nope.

On second thought, Hongjoong was probably hanging out with Yunho before coming to Mingi's rescue. He smelled like Pajeon and soju and it made sense that he came so fast if he already was in the neighborhood. Yunho probably told him to go to Mingi-

Shut up!

And he knew Hongjoong was trying to get him tipsy to get him to speak, but it wasn't going to work. Mingi can see right through him...

"So, what's up?"

Smooth, Hongjoong. Smooth. Still not talking though..

Mingi shrugs and watches as Hongjoong takes a sip with a satisfied "Ah! Refreshing".

Mingi sometimes wonders if he'll become like Hongjoong when he gets older. They're only a couple of years apart but Hongjoong has such old-people habits that it makes Mingi wonder. He's sure Hongjoong goes to Jjimjiibangs alone all the time. He looked like the type to do that.

Like an old-man. Hongjoong-ajeossi.

"Mingi-yah why'd you tell me to come? Don't you have anything to tell me?"

"I told you to not mind it, you came on your own." On Yunho's command...

"Wooyoung-ssi told me you've been sitting here for a while."

Wooyoung-ssi? Why so formal? He looked like he was about their age.

Mingi shrugs.

"It's pretty unlike you to hang near the seven-eleven at a peak hour, or ever even.."

"Mmh, 'wanted to try a convenience store drink that's been going viral lately."

"How was it?"

"Sweet. Cold. Not my favorite."

"What about the coffee?"

Mingi looks down at the can still sitting on the table where Wooyoung placed it.

Mingi shrugs.

"Wooyoung-ssi gave it to me."

Hongjoong nods with an "ah" and gulps down the remaining of his beer before crushing the can with both hands.

Cute-

What was happening to him?

What is wrong with him?

Mingi takes a sip before Hongjoong can register how worked up he is or the blush rising on his cheeks.

He misses Hongjoong's concerned glance or the way he briefly gnaws on his lower lip.

He drowns the can and doesn't crush it.

Enough torture

He gets up, chair rattling on the makeshift terrace and announces, dusting his pants, "I'm out of here, you can take the coffee with you, I don't want it."

And he leaves, walking back up the street towards his place, leaving Hongjoong behind, silently rolling his eyes, sitting on the plastic chair alone.

Wooyoung-ssi will probably join him when his shift ends, Mingi thinks.

.

Mingi hasn't seen Yunho all week, and although it's not something that usually bothers him -- sometimes weeks go by without them even texting each other -- right now it does, because there are different implications.

He wonders what Yunho is doing.

He hopes Yunho's still going out and living his life normally-

Fucking hell, why would he not, you dumbass?

Right.

There's no reason for Yunho to be stuck on Mingi, he's better than that.

   SeongHwa

Could u call me when u can

Call?

Why? What's up?

Mingi had sent the text a few days ago, and he honestly forgot about it until now.

Just wanna talk

Nvm if u can't

Seonghwa has always been an exception. Maybe it was because he was the oldest of his group of friends. Maybe because he was good. Genuinely good.

Mingi didn't know how to explain it.

Seonghwa wasn't just nice and caring, he was a real pillar for many people and Mingi sometimes wondered if he had one for himself. He's got to have a very strong and stable rooting if he could support so many of his friends without budging.

"What's up? Haven't heard your voice in a while."

"You sound good hyung."

"Mmh, I try."

A beat goes by and Mingi feels at ease.

"You don't, though."

Mingi huffs. He knows.

"Yeah, about that.."

Seonghwa knows a lot of things that his other friends don't, not even Yunho.

Mingi called him many, many times during his military service with a shaky voice and shallow breaths.

He was the one to teach him that breathing exercise he uses everytime he loses control of his lungs.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"Don't we all?" It's not condescending, it's a simple statement and Mingi huffs again.

"I- uh.. So, Yunho likes me, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Wait, you didn't already know that?"

"Not like a friend, hyung. Like, he hasn't confessed and I don't think he will, but I think he's waiting on me or something. I don't know what to do. I feel like a horrible person.."

Seonghwa hums, with his soothing voice, deep and low. He doesn't seem surprised by Mingi's statement.

He doesn't doubt him, like he knew this all along,

"Why do you feel that way? Don't you like Yunho back?"

The dreaded question.

It's not that he doesn't like Yunho like that.

He does. He thinks he does at least since that first kiss fiasco.

He just feels like he doesn't have anything to offer. He doesn't know what to expect and he's scared. He's scared he might burst and vanish.

He's scared of how their relationship might change.

"I don't think I'm good enough, and he'll realize it. I'm scared, I- I don't know. I was a total asshole, pulled the silent treatment on him and now I'm scared to apologize and I've been avoiding him all week hyung, I'm lost. "

"Okay, okay," Mingi hears shuffling on Seonghwa's end, like he's adjusting his phone, "First off, I don't think Yunho has bad judgement. Given, he's a bit of an air-head but he's got a great sense for people. So, if you worry about not being good enough, I think you should trust Yunho to be a good judge of that, himself. Second, don't you think that you're getting a bit ahead of yourself? There must be a reason why Yunho didn't confess his feelings properly yet, have you thought about that?"

Mingi stays silent.

No. He hasn't thought about that.

Why has Yunho not confessed yet?

"Because he's waiting on me."

"Mmh, waiting on you to do what?"

Mingi felt like he was trying to solve a riddle.

Waiting on him to do what?

Why would Yunho wait on him in the first place?

If he liked him and all, and he was sure of his feelings, why would he wait on Mingi?

Was he making sure Mingi felt the same?

Was he being considerate, for Mingi's sake?

Was he trying to seduce Mingi to make him fall for him?

Could he also be scared of what might happen if Mingi does like him back?

"You think he's scared to confess?"

"I don't know, Mingi-yah. Would it make sense in your situation?"

Yeah. Kind of.

"Mmh, I still don't know what I'm supposed to do though..."

It's Seonghwa's turn to huff this time, "I think the easiest way to know is to talk to him, Mingi-yah."

Ah. Yes.

Talk.

About feelings. With Yunho.

Non-platonic ones, at that.

Yes.

"I know it feels impossible, but I think you guys should put yourselves out of your mutual misery."

A beat goes by, Mingi hasn't stayed on the phone for this long since that night with Yunho, he thinks.

"How long have you known? About me and Yunho?"

Seonghwa's laugh rings like the chime of a bell through the phone, lots of static but a bell nonetheless, "I think from day one, though I don't think any of you was aware of it back then."

"Ah."

Mingi revels in the silence for a while, listening to Seonghwa's steady breathing through the phone.

It's comforting. Just like when he watches the pond through his window.

No matter how the weather is treating it, it stands its ground, planted, unchanging under the surface. Steady. Soothing.There.

"How are you?"

Seonghwa laughs, it sounds strained, "You don't know how much I want to get out of here," there's a sniff on the other line.

Mingi's heart hurts. Mingi does know actually..

"It'll be over soon though. I'll get out of here soon."

And Mingi doesn't know who Seonghwa is trying to comfort, himself or Mingi on the other end of the phone-call.

"Take care hyung."

"You too Mingi-yah. Thanks for calling."

"Mmhm."

Mingi feels like crying.

First thing he'll do when Seonghwa steps out of there, is give him a hug.

Mingi blinks back his tears.

   SeongHwa

Hwaiting!

(ゝω・´★)

You can do it Mingya!!

<3 Love rules <3

<3

And he sure hopes so..

.

So, there's pink hairdye everywhere on his sink and Mingi doesn't know how he's going to clean it up.

Everytime he wipes it away, it leaves a rosy stain on the white ceramic and it sends Mingi further into a spiral of unhinged laughter with a string of "Shits" being dragged behind it on a leash.

So, Mingi's dying his bleached, grown-out, buzzcut pink, and he's making a mess.

He received the package with the hairdye earlier that day and he kind of decided on doing it, then, on a whim.

So, there is a glob of pink dye on his disposable cooking plastic gloves and a smear of pink on his neck, right ear, and along his hairline on his forehead.

He kind of looks like a kid who was left alone with a bottle of paint, but for now, he's just excited.

He doesn't remember why pink, of all colors, but he really wanted to change his hair and here he is now.

Mingi doesn't mention the string of texts he sent in a sleep-deprived haze in the middle of the night. Or how his call, this morning, ended with no answer. Or how he turned his phone off immediately after that.

And not just off, he turned it off-off. Like, dead and silent off.

And now he had pink hairdye on his arms and his sink looked positively like a Barbie-murder scene.

It is past lunch time and Mingi hasn't eaten yet. He's waiting for the color to process and trying to clean the mess as best as his tainted body can without making more of a mess.

"Thank God I live alone man, what the hell is even this?" he mumbles for no one in particular, wiping a stain from the floor.

There is a knock at his door, but he doesn't register it right away, too caught up in cleaning the mess and with music on full blast in the bathroom.

He doesn't know what he'll tell the landlord if it doesn't come off by the time he moves out.

His heart then suddenly picks up when the knocks become continuous.

"Shit"

Was that the neighbor?

Was his music too loud? He made sure to shut the door to his bathroom though..

"Mingi-yah!"

The voice calling his name, muffled by the wood, is familiar but Mingi's heart doesn't calm down. It actually trips and vibrates even faster.

He still has dye in his hair.

He's in no position to open the door, damn it!

"What do you want?" he shouts back, hoping he can stay safely inside, without embarrassing himself any further.

"Open the door Mingi-yah."

"I- uh..." Mingi looks furtively around, "I'm not in a position where I can do that right now! Sorry!"

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

The latch to the door unlocks and the door opens and closes.

Fucking key under the mat.

He should have changed its location.

Shit.

The steps are getting closer and Mingi quickly shuts the the bathroom door. He had cracked it open earlier for his voice to carry across the flat, but now he needed it closed to protect his dignity.

"Mingi-yah, what are you doing in there?"

"Nothing, just leave me alone."

The door handle jiggles and Mingi panicks.

"Why would you use the spare key, anyways? I told you I'm in no position to open the door!"

"Mingi-yah, unless you've grown a second head, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

He doesn't sound mad, Mingi notices.

Good.

That's good, at least he won't get scolded or something.

"Why are you here anyway?"

"Are we having this conversation with the bathroom door between us?"

Mingi doesn't answer.

Yes. He'd like to keep it that way, if the message wasn't clear enough.

A beat goes by and he hears a sigh,

"Okay. Well, your phone is off, and you called me and I missed your call, so I'm here. Can you open the door now?"

Mingi's hands are clammy and he can hear his heart drumming a beat that resonates in his entire body.

No.

The door is staying closed.

He knows he's being childish, but he doesn't care.

"Mingi-yah, please."

Mingi closes his eyes and steps away from the door.

He's terrible.

He's horrible.

He's the worst.

I'm sorry.

He won't say it.

The door handle turns and the door opens torturously slow.

Mingi's eyes are on his socks-and-slide-clothed feet, and the rag is hanging uselessly in his limp hand.

There is a sharp intake of breath,

"Oh my God, Mingi-yah!"

Mingi looks up catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, he forgot about the hairdye sitting on his head.

It became darker. It looks so dark now, almost red.

"You look like you came straight out of a crime scene."

"Right. Told you so."

Yunho gives him a kind smile, cheeks balling up and eyes shining, and he motions to the bath with his head, "Has it processed enough? Is it ready to get washed out?"

Mingi shrugs.

He doesn't know. He forgot about the time.

Though it's looking way darker than what he wanted, so he figures it's not too soon to wash it out.

"It's supposed to be pink."

"It looks red, though."

"I know."

Yunho gives a laugh in response to Mingi's defeated sigh and rolls his pants up to his knees, "Come on, let's wash it out."

Mingi watches dumbly as Yunho gets himself inside the bath and sits on the edge, opens the water and starts adjusting the temperature.

"Take your shirt off."

Mingi's eyes widen like saucers.

What the fuck?

His hands are now covering his chest and he looks positively comical.

No.

He's not taking his shirt off.

They had seen each other naked before, but right now, Mingi wasn't sure about how their shared history compared to this situation.

Yunho rolls his eyes and sprays warm water on him, "You can keep it if you don't mind getting it all wet and full of dye."

Mingi yelps at the spay of water, "Are you gonna clean this later? The water stays in the fucking bath, Yunho-yah!"

"Get in here, or you'll end up with flaming-hot-red-Cheeto hair."

Mingi does as he's told and gets in the bath all dressed.

He is going to regret this so fucking bad.

He isn't a big fan of sticky, wet clothes rubbing on his body.

He sits close to Yunho's end and leans back on the offered extended leg. He closes his eyes when the stream of water gets close to his face, and he stays that way.

He doesn't have to look at Yunho.

That way, he won't have to see Yunho's expression as he rakes his hands through Mingi's hair.

The way his tongue will peak out a little because the stain on his forehead is hard to come off.

Or the way he'll start huming a random tune drawing weird patterns in Mingi's skin, water running over his fingers, making his hair look like a field of tall grass.

He won't know if Yunho's smiling fondly or gazing down at him sadly.

He'll simply get the dye out of his hair and get out of the bath.

He won't have to face anything, eventhough he had missed him.

Eventhough he missed him so much he felt sticky with it. Just like he is right now, sitting in the bath, clothes slowly absorbing the water and molding themselves to his skin.

He missed him so much, his skin felt clammy, gross, nauseating.

He missed him so much, he wants to rip out his heart and shake it like a magic 8 ball.

Am I okay?

Is it okay?

Is this okay?

Yunho's hand slides down the length of his neck, and his slim thumb rubs on the stain next to his Adam's apple, "Mmh, it's okay."

Mingi didn't realize he had said it outloud.

"I missed you," he tries. It's a whisper, too soft. So soft, he doesn't want anyone else to hear it besides Yunho.

He doesn't want his voice to disrupt this. Whatever this is. He's ashamed of it.

He doesn't want his voice to ring in his own ears and remind him of how pathetic he is.

He's terrible.

Yunho's hand stills on the back of his neck. Stream of warm water still flowing and filling the bathroom with noise and fog.

"Mingi-yah"

"Mmh?"

"Would you open your eyes for me?"

Mingi bites the inside of his cheek.

He wipes his eyes with his thumb -- a dumb reflex when he's been under water -- and blinks his eyes open.

It's bright. And he needs to adjust. But when he does his gaze travels up to look at Yunho.

This is terrible.

Yunho smiles down at him, fingers scratching the hairs at the nape of his neck,

"You're all done, princess," and he helps Mingi up on his feet.

They are standing face to face inside the bath, pink water slowly swirling down the drain. Yunho is helping Mingi out of his wet shirt, and plants a kiss on the stain on Mingi's neck, before getting out of the bath to fetch him a towel.

Mingi's in a haze.

He's not thinking straight.

He let's Yunho wrap him in a towel and guide him to his bedroom.

He let's himself be deposited on the bed, while Yunho shuffles through Mingi's clothes to find sweatpants and a pair of boxers he can change into.

He changes into them obediently while Yunho goes back into the bathroom, to dry his legs and bring another towel to dry Mingi's hair.

Yunho is now on his knees, on the bed, while Mingi's sitting cross-legged, facing him. He's rubbing the towel gently over Mingi's freshly dyed hair, and Mingi's watching him from below.

God, he missed him.

He doesn't know what he would be if Yunho wasn't there.

He doesn't know who he would have become if he hadn't met Yunho.

This is terrible.

Yunho, who's patiently drying his hair.

Carefully.

Yunho, who's also taking care of drying his back and chest.

Diligently.

Yunho, who always thought Mingi was more than what he was worth.

Reverently.

Yunho, Yunho, Yunho.

Tenderly. Wholly.

God, he loved him.

Yunho, Yunho, Yunho, who was looking down at him with a never-wavering smile settled on his lips.

Yunho, Yunho, Yunho, who he wanted to hug and gather to his chest, and fuze with.

Yunho, who he wanted to absorb and never let go of.

Yunho, who he needed but was ashamed to admit it.

Yunho, who was everything and beyond to him, and it was scary.

Mingi unfolded his legs to circle the back of Yunho's knees and fold them back towards himself. To pull him closer.

Mingi rests his hands on Yunho's hips and squeezes.

Mingi burries his head on Yunho's stomach and circles his arms around him.

And Yunho hugs Mingi's head loosely to him, fingers brushing the pink strands,

"Pink looks good on you."

And Mingi hugs him tighter.

God, he loves him and this is terrible.

.

Mingi's lying on his belly. On the floor. In front of his TV.

Yunho's sitting on his couch with his feet between Mingi's legs.

They're watching an anime in silence, but Yunho's feet keep inching closer to tickle Mingi's legs, and Mingi's trying his best to kick him and concentrate on the plot, all at once.

Yunho's foot falls on his butt and Mingi jolts, "Yunho-yah!"

Yunho's snickering, slumped on the couch and barely sitting on it anymore.

He was so caught in trying to reach Mingi with his feet that his body slipped and is now getting closer and closer to the floor.

Mingi snorts at the sight, "Dumbass."

"Yah!" But Yunho doesn't have time to protest because his own butt hits the floor with a thud.

Mingi bursts into laughter before getting tackled to the ground by Yunho, "Is it that funny, Mingi-yah?"

Mingi doesn't stop.

"Oh, so you're just gonna keep mocking me?"

"Well," he wheezes, "I have been told that karma's a bitch..."

Yunho settles both hands on his chest, and Mingi's laughter dies a little at the anticipated tickle attack, but Yunho doesn't move.

He just sits on top of Mingi, hands resting on his chest, and watches him calm down progressively.

There's a soft smile settled on his face, and tender fondness in his eyes, and Mingi stops laughing altogether.

His hands are resting on the floor near Yunho's knees and the flooring under his palms suddenly feels too cold. His hands migrate towards the exposed skin of Yunho's knees. They travel upwards to settle on the side of his thighs, right at the seem of his basketball shorts, where it's warm and soft.

Yunho lets him, unmoving. His eyes are still on Mingi.

Mingi hears the ping! of a notification in the distance but ignores it.

"Why do you like me?"

It's quiet.

Mingi finds it's safer to whisper the embarrassing things he wants to know. That way, it doesn't reach his ears, and it's like it never happened.

Yunho leans down, closer to his face, and whispers back, "What did you say?"

Mingi's brain isn't functioning.

His heart is going to beat out of his chest and right into Yunho's hand.

Mingi tries wriggling out from under Yunho's legs, but he clamps them tight around his middle.

Shit.

Mingi sighs shakily and looks down, avoiding Yunho's intense stare, raking the folds of the oversized tee-shirt covering his body instead.

He is wearing Mingi's clothes because he spent the last couple of days at his place. It was driving Mingi's usually solitary brain crazy to have someone tangled in his feet, in his own space, but he didn't want to kick him out either.

"Why do you like me?"

Mingi isn't going to look at him. He'll just swipe the question under the rug and completely ignore the fact that anything ever came out of his mouth.

He doesn't realize his hands are squeezing Yunho's thighs until Yunho undoes the firm clasp and tangles their fingers together instead. He then slips along Mingi's legs and settles next to him, half lying on him, head resting on his shoulder and fingers intertwined between them.

"Like, in general? Or..."

"No, not in general. Although I'm also confused about that.. I just assume you have weird taste in people..."

Yunho hums and snuggles closer.

Mingi's unbelievably tense next to him and his fingers are squeezing Yunho's hands now. He's scared to hear his answer. He shouldn't have asked...

Yunho then props himself up on his elbow and looks at Mingi, who's still avoiding his eyes, from above, "I don't know."

Mingi raises his eyes, then, in confusion, "What do you mean, you don't know?"

Yunho grins, "I don't think I have a specific reason, I just do."

Mingi isn't satisfied with the answer and he shows it by huffing in annoyement, "Can't you be serious for a minute here, Yunho-yah?"

Mingi sits up and pulls his hands back to himself, picking at his fingernails and not looking at Yunho.

"I am being serious."

"It doesn't make sense."

"Not everything has to make sense Minkya."

"I don't get it, and you're annoying."

Yunho sits next to him, mermaid style, and lowers his head to look into Mingi's eyes.

Mingi throws him a glare, "Why aren't you telling me that you like me? Why don't you confess?"

There is a blush creeping up Yunho's cheeks and a pout on his lips.

He doesn't answer.

Mingi's furious.

"Do you even like me? Or did I make this all up in my head?"

Yunho looks down at Mingi's hands and slips his fingers in between.

"Of course I do, you drive me fucking crazy Mingi-yah, how could I not?"

Mingi shrugs.

"Look, it's gonna sound very asshol-ish of me but I don't know how to say it otherwise," he takes a breath to steel himself, "I don't want to pressure you. I want you to follow your own feelings and your own intuition. I want it to come from you, I don't want to dump everything on you and sit back and watch it trickle down your face when you weren't prepared for it."

Mingi's kind of calming down but he's still angry. That was asshole-ish as fuck...

What the hell?

"I'm not a kid Yunho-yah, I'm not this fragile thing that you need to hold with mittens and bubble wrap to avoid it braking or something."

"I'm saying that I want it to be your decision, I want you to make the first move when you feel ready.." he's got a fierce look in his eyes, " I don't want you to match your pace to mine, I don't want to rush it, that's all I'm saying, Mingi-yah."

Mingi swallows around the lump in his throat.

He's terrible.

Ugh!

He just wants to kick his feet and wiggle on the floor and whine and punch the air and scream and pull a fucking tantrum, but instead he just sits there in silence.

With Yunho's enormous hand in his and his never-ending fingers intertwined with his and his slender thumb rubbing his palm -- a palm that is sticky and sweaty at that.

God!

He tries to take his hand away but Yunho's fingers are tied like threads to their spot, around each one of his digits,

"My hands are gross, they're clammy..."

"I don't care."

"But I do."

"Why?"

Mingi tries prying Yunho's fingers away put he's being stubborn, "Let go, it's disgusting."

"No it's not."

"Yes, it fucking is Yunho-yah! Just, let me go!"

Yunho's grip loosens but he doesn't let go of Mingi's hand. Mingi doesn't take the opportunity to take it out and wipe it or get up and go wash his hands though. He's not mad at Yunho, he shouldn't take it out on him. He just stays there, Yunho's hand resting on top of his limply, warm and safe.

"My hands get sweaty when I'm with you too, do you not like it?"

Mingi runs his fingers along Yunho's. He's never paid attention to that. He's never noticed, but they are, indeed. He sticks their palms together and extends his fingers along Yunho's to press as much of his skin against him as he can.

It feels weird now. Their skins stick together and Mingi feels like their cells are fusing, like there's a thin sheen of glue between their palms.

"I never noticed..."

It wasn't meant to be heard, but Yunho tangles their fingers and pulls Mingi towards him.

"See? 'Cause it doesn't matter.."

"Yunho-yah.."

"It's a physiological thing, we can't help it."

He says it with his eyes traveling down Mingi's face.

"Stop it."

Yunho backs away after blowing a puff of air between his eyes.

"Yah!"

Yunho sticks his tongue out.

"Dumbass."

"Mmh, you're not that smart either.."

"Yah!"

Fucker..

.

   HongJoong

STOP HOARDING YUNHO

I KNOW HE'S WITH U

??

TELL HIM TO CALL ME BACK

What's up w the caplock?

SEONGHWA'S GETTING DISCHARGED TODAY

Oh

That

Yeah

HURRY!!

I'M LOSING MY MIND!!

Nothing new

Mingya........

I'll come over if u don't do as I say..

Okay okay

I'll tell him

Mingi's in his bed with Yunho attached to his side like a koala. Long arms safely wrapped around his torso and legs tangled with his and so soft looking. Plunged in a peaceful slumber, breathing steadily and humming from time to time.

Mingi doesn't want to wake him.

He looks too cozy, wrapped around him like the safest blanket, warm and clingy.

Mingi doesn't like skinship. He doesn't like being touched or hugged or kissed, and Yunho's the total opposite. He always was. From day one, he used to jump on Mingi's back and wrap his arms around his neck and nudge him on the shoulder and grip his arm.

He used to poke his cheek and steel his food, wipe his mouth and ruffle his hair. Yunho's fingers seemed to be magnetized to his skin no matter how far apart they were, and Mingi believed they were infinite. And for some reason Mingi never pushed him away, ever. Not even, that time when Yunho kissed him on the lips. And not now, when he was snuggling him like a pillow, hugging him tight like a human sized plush-toy.

Mingi turns his head, resting on the pillow he's sharing with Yunho, and stares.

God! He wishes they could stay this way forever, wrapped in each other with Mingi secretly staring. Yunho doesn't need to know. Yunho should stay asleep, blissfully unaware, happily dreaming.

Their faces are really close. Mingi's chest flutters and his stomach flips.

He's suddenly feeling warm. Unbearably so. Too warm for comfort. Too warm to be innocent.

He's terrible.

Yunho moves, and their noses brush, and his lashes flutter, and he stirs and blinks an eye open,

"Morning," and his lips stretch into a smile and Mingi's staring at them and there's too much saliva in his mouth but his throat is dry as fuck.

Shit.

Mingi backs away hesitantly but then gives up. What's the point of running away? Yunho keeps coming back to him every single time.

To be honest, he doesn't really want to stay like that either, but staying in his comfort zone is driving him up a wall.

Just this once.

Just for a moment, he'll step out of line and stay put.

Stay in Yunho's arms, faces inches apart, noses brushing. His heart is racing, and he's pretty sure he's red all over and sweating like crazy, but he keeps his ground.

Just for a minute.

Please?

And Yunho dusts the sleep out of Mingi's eyes with a gentle finger, and resumes staring.

And Mingi distracts himself by raking his eyes over Yunho's face. A strand of black hair is dangerously close to Yunho's eye and Mingi reaches a hand to brush it out of the way.

Yunho's smiling now, shyly, and Mingi's brain is going to explode along with his heart and his entire body.

Yunho burries his face in Mingi's neck in embarrassment and mumbles against his skin, "Thanks.."

Mingi wants to laugh. Or cry. He doesn't know. He just needs to externalize the pang of emotion that just took off inside of him,

"W-what for?"

Yunho fists Mingi's sleeping shirt tighter, and presses his face closer, into the crook of his neck, "For trying."

And Mingi's heart skips a beat and he's positively going to fucking die. Pass away in Yunho's arms with his face pressed against his jugular.

Mingi's hands are trapped between his thighs and his body's buzzing with want. He just wants to launch himself at Yunho and let himself be devoured. He just wants to give up control and let Yunho do whatever he wants to him, whether it be digging up his heart and gobling it or stealing his breath by sealing their mouths together. But he lays still and waits for the shivers to pass.

He's biting down on his lips and trying to find a point to fix his eyes on, on the wall. Where's his ceiling when he needs it, damn it?

Mingi's phone pings and he snaps out of his overwhelm. Right, Hongjoong.

"Yunho-yah?"

"Mmh?"

"You need to call Hongjoong. Hyung is getting discharged today."

"Oh my God!" Yunho lurches upwards, barely avoiding Mingi's chin by a hair, "I forgot! Is it today already?"

He's running his hands between the folds of the blankets and diving under the bedding to come back out on the other end, "Where's my phone?"

He runs his hand under the pillow and looks in alarm at Mingi with the most adorable bedhead, "Mingi-yah, I lost my phone.. what do I do?"

Cute...

Cute.

"It's on the bedside table, babbo-yah.."

Yunho grabs it and dials Hongjoong's number before flopping back down into bed.

"R'you not getting up?"

Yunho shakes his head, "Nope, love your bed. Kinda get why you never leave the house," and winks at him before greeting Hongjoong, who just picked up.

"Alright, I'll go make coffee then. Good luck with that.."

Yunho shakes his head 'yes' frantically and raises a thumb up before pulling the phone away from his ear in surprise,

"No I'm not! We're not even in the same room right now!"

He shoes Mingi out of his own room, with his hand, "My attention's all on you hyung, I swear."

Mingi rolls his eyes at the finger-heart Yunho throws at him before the door shuts between them.

.

Mingi's drunk. Again.

Mingi's so drunk right now.

He did it on purpose this time around. He wanted to get drunk tonight.

They're all gathered around the table of a Samgyeopsal restaurant and they are way more than what he's used to.

Seonghwa's back, squeezed between him and Hongjoong, and slipping progressively into Mingi's lap. Wooyoung-ssi is also at their table, because apparently everyone but him is already acquainted with his neighborhood's seven-eleven cashier. And he came with his own bunch of friends. Mingi doesn't remember their names.

Yunho's hand is under his shirt, drawing random patterns on the skin of his lower back, all the while Yunho himself is engrossed in a very animated conversation with one of Wooyoung's friends. The one with broad shoulders and cat-like eyes.

The pretty one.

Mingi would be stupid not to admit it, 'cause it's true. He's fucking pretty.

All of Wooyoung's friends are fucking pretty.

What the fuck?

Even when Yunho's hand is slipping under the seam of his pants and his fingers are running over one of the lower vertebrae, Yunho won't stop talking.

Mingi's pissed and drunk and Seonghwa is talking to him but he's not paying attention because Wooyoung's friends are so fucking pretty.

Uhg!

"Yah! Mingi-yah!"

That was Hongjoong. Mingi's very slow and malfunctioning brain can tell this much.

He throws him a dark glare.

"Would you finally pay attention to Hwa or am I gonna have to wait in line forever?"

Seonghwa huffs and blushes timidly.

Mingi rolls his eyes.

For fuck's sake.

"What?"

Seonghwa still has a blush on his cheeks when he repeats his question, "Did you guys talk?"

It's Mingi's turn to blush now, and his stomach plummets to the ground along with his heart.

He's going to throw up.

He drowns the shot of soju he's been tightening his fist around and makes a move to get up, but he's being held down by Seonghwa's leg in his lap and Yunho's hand down his pants.

Shit.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow.

Yunho finally stopped talking.

Oh. Now, after all this time..

Why fucking now?

Mingi's drunk and cornered.

His stomach flips again.

He's positively about to throw up in a very near future.

Did he mention how drunk he was?

Mingi turns to Yunho, grabs the hand that's settled on his lower back and shoves it out.

Yunho's looking at him with wild, panicked eyes now, like he's asking 'What? What's wrong?' and Mingi fucking hates him.

God, he's so fucking drunk.

He pulls Yunho towards his chest and feels his breath get punched out of him at the collision.

Fuck this.

He grabs his face and squeezes his cheeks to make his lips pop out in a ridiculous pout and clamps his eyes shut.

"Oh, my God!" Mingi hears Hongjoong gasp on his left.

Fuck you..

He's kissing him. Their lips are pressed together and Mingi's hands are holding his head still, not that Yunho's moving away anyways. There is too much saliva and Yunho tastes like soju and pork and grease.

"Damn, Mingi-yah.."

"What is happening?"

"Don't worry about it.."

"It's just something that should've happened a long time ago."

Bile rises suddenly, burning his oesophagus and threatening to erupt like a disgusting volcano.

Oh shit-

Mingi's eyes pop open and he's met with Yunho's equally wide eyes staring back at him in shock. Their lips are still stuck together. Mingi goes to back away when his brain catches up with him and the realization finally hits.

His hands let go of their firm clasp on Yunho's cheeks and slip down to his shoulders to separate their mouths gently, but Yunho pulls him back towards him and runs his ginormous hand into his hair.

"Oh, deabak!"

"Go Mingi-yah!"

He's moving his lips on Mingi's and swiping his tongue over his cupidsbow. Mingi hears a delighted sigh when his lips follow Yunho's movements and his hand slips up, to rest above Yunho's clavicle.

"Holy shit, shouldn't we stop them?"

"Don't you fucking dare!"

Okay..

So this is happening.

They're kissing. In public. In front of their friends. Yunho's grazing his fucking bottom lip with his teeth because he's smiling into the kiss and fuck.

Mingi's about to throw up.

Because he's drunk. He's very drunk and nauseous and he's kissing Yunho and Yunho's kissing him back.

Or more like Yunho's kissing him and he's kissing him back and he's going to throw up!

Mingi's hand tightens around Yunho's shoulder and the one resting at the base of his neck fists his shirt in a strangling way.

Yunho pulls away slightly and Mingi all but flees. He gets up from his metal stool, rattling the chair against the floor loudly, "I'm not well-"

He's losing his balance but he doesn't give a shit, he needs to get out, he'll fucking barf everywhere otherwise.

Mingi fucking lost his mind.

He's terrible, terrible, terrible!

The night air hits him in the face and it's fucking cold. A shiver runs through him, that seems to shake his entire body, and it makes him gag and he needs to find a trashcan, but the cold is knocking him off balance.

Trash. Trash? Where's the trash?

There's an arm around his waiste and a hand on his forearm and someone is guiding him and tilting his head downwards and patting his back in a metronomic repetition.

Seonghwa.

Even in his miserable state he's still able to recognize him.

Mingi's crying. It feels like it lasts hours. He can hear himself and it just stirs him on. And it hurts and he hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

Ipyeong! Song Min-Gi!

Shut up!

He's shivering and shaking with the intensity of it, but Seonghwa's hand stays on his back and the flow of soothing words keep coming, slipping easily inside his ears.

Mingi can't take a breath for a while and his heart is pounding in his throat and he feels like it'll come out with the insides of his stomach.

Mingi's crying even when he's done.

"I'm sorry, I hate this-"

"Shhhht Mingi-yah, calm down."

"I hate throwing up, its disgusting.."

"I know, nobody likes throwing up."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry.."

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry!

Seonghwa's tutting and handing him a water bottle to rinse his mouth, with his hand still patting his back.

Mingi's a mess. And he becomes extremely aware of it when Seonghwa doesn't make a move to go back inside after he's calmed down and they've been resting their backs on the wall looking up at the sky for a while.

He's sniffing rhythmically and wiping his eyes with his dirty palms, his chin won't stop trembling and his mouth feels slimy.

Seonghwa's hand is now hooked in the crook of his elbow and he's humming some tune Mingi doesn't care to recognize.

The sky is a weird shade of grayish indigo, the lights of the city revealing it's somewhat true colour, ridding it of the mysterious sheen that makes it look pitch black otherwise.

It's empty. The sky. Just like Mingi, right now.

Seonghwa stops singing and drops his chin to his chest. His shoulders start shaking and his grip on Mingi's arm tightens.

Mingi can't tell what's happening, he's drunk, remember? But when he turns to look at his friend his entire body is now shaking.

Is Seonghwa crying?

Mingi lowers his head to look at his face, he can feel a fresh jug of tears ready to spill over the surface, ready to pour, when Seonghwa lets out a noise. It's faint and Mingi can't identify the underlying emotion behind it.

And then he hears another, before he can ask anything. And another. It sounds like a giggle.

Is Seonghwa laughing?

Mingi steps closer and he hears it, a soft snicker.

"Are you laughing?"

Seonghwa raises his head at the question and a big bright smile is gracing his features, illuminating his face and revealing his teeth.

Seonghwa seems to laugh harder when his eyes meet Mingi's and he lets out an ugly snort.

"Hyung?"

He's full on laughing now, bright and joyous and blith. Mingi's face contorts and his cheek muscles spasm, "Do I look that ridiculous?"

Seonghwa hasn't taken a breath for a concerning amount of time, and he's clutching his belly and Mingi's arm for dear life.

"Hyung! That's not nice..." but Mingi's stomach is bubbling with joy, seeing his hyung so carefree makes him relax. His heart melts and he let's out a huff.

"Mingi-yah-"

Mingi snickers along with Seonghwa, though he doesn't know what's so funny that it's stealing the words out of Seonghwa's mouth,

"You fucking- you- the way you ate Yunho's mouth, earlier. I can't-"

And Mingi laughs softly in response.

Right, that happened.

Right.

Shit.

But Mingi's drunk and he's laughing because Seonghwa is and he looks like a mess and he knows it and what the hell is he doing?

Uhg!

.

Mingi's a good person. He thinks he is anyways. Pretty decent at least. He would never hurt anyone on purpose, that's for sure.

Mingi's a good person and he kept reminding himself of the fact all his life.

Mingi's a good person, even if people stayed away from him.

Mingi's a good person, even if he doesn't really have social skills.

Mingi's a good person, even if he doesn't care much for people.

He's good even when people kept making him feel like he wasn't, even when people kept reminding him of how terrible he was.

He's still good even if he ignores phone-calls and doesn't pay close attention most people.

He's still good even with his mean and intimidating appearance. Even when his eyes are constantly half lidded and slitting his face in half, even when his mouth rests straight on his face and he looks extremely bored and pissed all the time.

Even when he wakes up in a cold sweat, guilt eating him from the inside and anxiety pressuring his heart to burst out of his body. Even when his thigh is scraped and bruised from all the scratching and pinching that'd become a habit of his.

And yes, Mingi admits to not being good sometimes. To turning a blind eye on things that he probably should have tried doing something about. Ignoring things to avoid getting in trouble instead of helping and maybe changing the possible outcome. Being too caught in himself to notice what was happening around him.

Withholding the power of giving someone relief when he knew it would feel like a lot.

Mingi did many bad things and probably still is, and will always, because who doesn't? Who can be sure about that?

Mingi will probably fuck up many more times in the future.

His mom always told him he was good, always held his hand and looked at him with fond eyes, full of love, "Good, Mingi-yah. You did well." Even when he didn't.

She always said it with a light tap on the cheek, "It's good enough, son."

When Yunho followed him home the first time, and Mingi had tried getting him off his back because he was nervous and he had never brought anyone home, ever, and Yunho kept trying to climb on top of him.

When he pushed the front door and his dad was sitting in the living room with the TV on, and his computer in his lap, running his hands over the surface of the sofa, like he was looking for something. And when Mingi had tapped the top of his graying head with his index finger, "They're on your head dad, your glasses..."

And when Yunho, before his dad could say thank you or greet Mingi properly, stepped in front of the TV and bowed ninety degrees to introduce himself.

And when his dad had looked at Mingi with a surprised smile and a glint in his eye.

When his mom walked in on them arguing over the best Manga series in his room that same day, and Yunho had turned beat-red after being caught mid-curse by an adult. And how his mom patted his shoulder at dinner after Yunho had left and smiled so bright it illuminated her face,

"I like this kid, Mingi-yah. He makes you smile. You look good when you smile."

And Mingi had rolled his eyes, like any rebellious teenager did at his age back then, and shrugged in fake nonchalance, "He followed me home, I didn't invite him. He goes to the dance studio."

"Good. That's good."

Mingi is good.

Mingi knows he's good because he has someone like Yunho in his life.

Because his mom says so.

Because his dad smiles at him with pride and thanks him everytime he forgets his glasses are sitting on top of his head.

Because Seonghwa is laughing loud and clear as a bell with his leg in his lap and his head on Hongjoong's shoulder.

Because Hongjoong is trying to kick Yunho with his foot while trying to win first place at the Mario Kart race the both of them have started.

Because he feels a bubble grow in his stomach and pure euphoria seep out of his pores.

But sometimes he doesn't remember. Most of the time actually.

Yunho's sitting between his legs, on the floor, and is trying to wriggle out from under Mingi's calfs trapping him like the safety restraints on a roller-coaster, because Hongjoong, sitting on the couch and also trapped under Seonghwa's weight, is being a little shit.

Yunho's hand is slipping under his pants to feel the skin of his calf, and usually Mingi would thrash and kick because he's sensitive around that area, but he lets him and tightens his grip over Yunho's shoulders.

They are all gathered at Mingi's appartement. He didn't give his consent as far as he can remember, and even if he did he was probably drunk, so it doesnt count. But here they are all, piled up on his sofa and playing Mario Kart and being very loud.

When there's a lull in the game, Yunho throws his head backwards to rest it on the sliver of couch between Mingi's thighs.

Mingi thinks his thighs are huge in that moment.

Yunho's head looks so small between them. He could crush his face if he closed his legs on him. Yunho would probably let him, seeing the way he is looking at him right now.

"I'm sleeping over tonight."

Mingi stops laughing.

What?

Tonight? As in, after Mingi threw himself at him?

Shit.

Seonghwa chokes on a giggle and Hongjoong is smiling and raising his eyebrows suggestivly.

Yunho's still looking at him, unbothered by the reactions that he just pulled from everyone.

It's a statement. Not a question. Not a request.

He's not asking for permission.

He's informing Mingi.

And Mingi's going to throw up for the second time that night.

"Yunho-yah, don't you think you're moving a bit fast-?"

"Shut up, let them be~ you can sleep at mine if you want.."

Either Hongjoong has lost his mind, or something happened between him and Seonghwa that erased all traces of awkwardness between them because Mingi thinks he's especially annoying tonight, "Would you stop fucking talking like an old pervert? God! Joong-ah.."

"Yah! Who said I was old? I'm still in my twenties fucker!"

Seonghwa, who's been silent after Hongjoong cut him off, has now put his hand on Hongjoong's thigh and has efficiently shut him up, "Leave it, I'll sleep over if you really want to."

Hongjoong is beat-red now, and Mingi snickers and turns to look at Yunho.

Ha! Fucker..

But Yunho's not sharing his amusement, he's still staring up at him, head between his legs and tongue swiping over his lips.

Mingi can see his Adam's apple move down his throat as he swallows and his hand is gripping his ankle firmly.

Oh, shit.

Right, this..

Seonghwa's getting up on his feet, and dragging Hongjoong up with him, "We're out of here, thanks for the party Yunho-yah, I had a lot of fun."

And before the door shuts behind them and they leave Mingi and Yunho alone, Seonghwa peeks his head through the opening, "Drink lots of water and sleep tight! See you guys tomorrow!"

And the door shuts.

And Mingi's not well.

What happened to him moving at his own pace?

Yunho gets up on his legs easily, now that Mingi's too shocked to hold him down, and stands in front of him. Now the roles are reversed and Mingi's looking up at Yunho and swallowing and wetting his lips because what the hell is happening?

His stomach has solidified into a block of concrete, subject to gravity, it is bringing all of his organs down in it's fall. Mingi's heart is shaking so fast, he can't feel it beating at all.

Shit.

Yunho takes his hand, "Won't you brush your teeth?"

No. Mingi won't. Mingi will stay planted on his sofa and not budge from there. He can't.

Yunho's pulling on his hand lightly and Mingi will not move. Fuck no. What is this?

Even if he wanted to, Mingi wouldn't be able to get up and follow Yunho right now, his legs aren't functioning. His heart isn't beating. Or it is, but too fast. All his blood is gathered in his chest. His limbs have fallen asleep and he's not budging. Yunho'll just have to leave him there, sat on the sofa, molded to the cushion under his butt, still and unmoving.

Yunho pulls hard on Mingi's arm and, surprisingly, Mingi's legs react reflexively and push him into a standing position.

Okay, so maybe Yunho'll just have to manhandle him a little bit, but Mingi's body isn't functioning nonetheless.

Yunho steps forward, into Mingi's space and waits. They're not touching, apart from Yunho's fingers tied with his, they're just close. Very close. And Mingi can see the flecks of taupe in the light reflected in his eyes, neutral, timeless, organic. Mingi can also count every single lash adorning Yunho's eyes and follow down the slope of his nose, a tad too long and small-ish compared to his general proportions.

Yunho's lips have parted, breathing regularly, puffs of air drawing Mingi in, in, in.

This is terrible.

Mingi wants, wants, wants. He's ashamed of how much he wants. He's disgusted by the enormity of it. His desire is suffocating and heavy, hanging above his head like the sword of Damocles, ready to split his head open, too heavy for the thread holding it in the air.

Mingi was always ashamed to take. Especially when it came to Yunho.

It always felt like he was giving and giving everything to Mingi, unprompted, generous, and Mingi didn't know any better than to let him, he made sure to never take though. Never give in. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

Mingi keeps but doesn't take.

Because Mingi was supposed to be the one giving, that's how it was all his life, and suddenly Yunho barged in and Mingi, with his hands full, didn't know what to do so he kept it safely. Carried everything on his shoulders, for years. What if Yunho asked for it back? What if it was just temporary?

Just in case.

He was going to give it back anyways, give everything back one day. He was going to do it. Just in case... But, but, but-

Now Yunho was asking him to take. Yunho was standing in front of him, lips parted, breathing steadily on his face, and Mingi wanted, wanted, wanted.

"I want-"

Was he going it say it outloud?

Express it clearly for his own ears to hear?

"I want.."

Mingi is going to explode and his heart is a ticking bomb.

"I want..."

Mingi closes the gap. He wants Yunho. He wants his lips on him. He wants his gigantic hands in his hair. He wants his infinite fingers touching his skin. He wants Yunho to take his breath. He wants him to devoure his heart. He wants to stick their skins together and fuze. He wants. He wants..

Yunho.

Yunho..

Yunho is moving his lips against Mingi's. He follows Mingi's lead so he doesn't touch him otherwise, his hand is still clasping Mingi's but that's it. Mingi wants to cry.

Shit.

He pulls away slightly, foreheads stuck together and noses slotted with each other. They're both breathing harshly, Mingi's eyes are still closed and his hand is still holding Yunho's like a lifeline.

He's going to cry.

Yunho raises his face slightly and their lips brush again, and he stays close, breathing in his mouth.

Mingi tightens his hold, he feels the pressure rise behind his eyelids.

Yunho brushes his lips against his again and pecks his cupidsbow.

Shit, shit, shit!

Mingi lets out a pained whine.

Yunho pecks his bottom lip.

Mingi's tongue follows the movement.

Yunho pecks the corner of his mouth.

Mingi swallows around the lump in his throat.

Is this okay?

He doesn't know. He doesn't fucking know!

"It's okay Mingi-yah."

It is?

Mingi opens his eyes.

Yunho's smiling gently and swiping his thumb down Mingi's cheek and he's nodding as he reassures again, "It's okay."

It's okay.

He's good.

.

They're brushing their teeth and Mingi's staring. He's making his mouth foam with the circular motions of the bristles over his teeth all the while zoning intently on Yunho's movements.

Yunho picked another one of his shirts from his closet and a pair of shorts. He is washing his mouth now and Mingi's analyzing his movements. The way Yunho's jaw works under the thin skin of his face. How his cheeks stretch into balls as he fills them with water. His body's bent ninety degrees because Mingi's sink is too low and he's so tall. Mingi follows the line of his spine, how his back arches inwards where his ribs start, how his vertebrae appear at the surface of the shirt, bump after bump like a train traveling along his back. His big hands are on the sink, gripping it on each side, as he spits the toothpaste filled water and they move from their spot to allow him to wash his face.

Mingi watches as Yunho straightens up and grabs a towel next to Mingi's shoulder, watches as the muscles in his arms flex and the tendons work over his forearms.

Yunho's hair looks soft and Mingi stares because he wants to run his hands through it but he is fine just staring for the moment, Yunho is staring at him now anyways. Enough to dissuade him from doing anything.

Yunho wipes Mingi's chin, "You like what you see?"

Fuck-

Mingi's going to choke and die.

His toothpaste has overflowed and the foam is filling his mouth and spilling everywhere, on his chin and mouth, but instead of spiting it out, Mingi swallows it all.

Ew, ew, ew!

Yunho doesn't react and simply steps closer and closer and pushes backwards until Mingi's back touches the wall, "Do you like staring at me Mingi-yah? Do you like it so much you forgot about the toothbrush in your mouth?"

"Shut up," it has no bite in it at all, and his voice comes out small, like one of an intimidated child, and fuck!

Yunho smirks and wipes the corner of Mingi's mouth, "You made a mess Minkya..."

Mingi's about to pass out. God, God, God! Mingi wants... Mingi wants so bad..

Yunho leans impossibly closer and whispers with a thumb rubbing a spot right next to Mingi's Adam's apple, "I'll leave you to finish up."

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Mingi waits until Yunho leaves to cough out the taste of toothpaste and breathe properly.

He washes his mouth and face to cool off a little and refocus on the task at hand, and leans on the sink to look at himself in the mirror.

Okay. Okay. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay.

Yunho said it himself, that this was okay, that he was okay.

Mingi finishes up in the bathroom and turns the lights off on his way out. His appartement is dark, now that the bathroom light is off, and Mingi revels in the dim for a second. Stands there, in the middle of his flat, and lets his eyes roam on his furniture. Everything looks still and quiet in the dark, relaxed and private. Mingi likes the dark. Mingi likes it when he can't tell himself from his surroundings. He likes being the only one to know he's there. He likes how he can't differentiate himself from the objects scattered around him. It's like they're made of the same material, same matter. He likes when the lines of reality become hazy. It's like nothing exists physically in the dark, it just exists in Mingi's head. And Mingi likes that.

He spots the moon through his window, reflecting its light in the neighbor's pond.

Mingi turns his head to look at the red digits on his microwave, it's 2:47 AM.

There's a slit of orange light seeping from under his bedroom door and Mingi pads towards it blindly, like a ship following the light, lost in an otherwise dark sea.

His hand on the handle feels clammy and his heart is about to leap out inbetween the gaps of his ribs, but he pushes the door open tentatively. Yunho is standing in the middle of his room and it scares the crap out of him.

He thought he'd be laying in bed or something, not just standing there like a misplaced coat hanger, awkward, in the middle of the room,

"What the fuck-?"

"I was about to grab a glass of water-"

Turns out they were both startled because they speak at the same time.

"Oh, yeah go ahead..."

Yunho doesn't need Mingi's permission but he doesn't know what to say to make this less awkward so, yeah.

Yunho steps around Mingi and through the slightly ajar door.

It's awkward.

This is terrible.

Shit

All of a sudden arms sneak their way around Mingi's waiste and he feels a body press against his back. Yunho's hands travel up, up, up to rest on his chest and Mingi breathes.

Mingi looks down at the hands on his torso, huge with never-ending fingers, slender and gracious. Nimble.

Mingi looks at his own hands, in comparison. They're average, proportionate to his figure, kind of thick fingers, rough and sweaty.

Yunho's chin is resting on his shoulder and he leans closer to drop a soft kiss on the juncture with his neck, he then slots his nose on that same spot and stays there. Mingi closes his eyes, his legs are weak and he doesn't know what he is right now.

"You're good Mingi-yah."

Mingi's heart stutters. That's surprising to hear from someone other than his mother.

"Am I?"

"Mmh."

"Okay."

Mingi turns around in Yunho's arms and rests his hands on his shoulders, "What about that glass of water?"

Yunho huffs out a laugh and pinches Mingi's side, "Fuck you."

"That too.."

"God! Shut up!"

Make me.

He won't say it.

Not because he doesn't want Yunho to kiss him but because it's lame and cheesy as fuck and he'll never be caught alive saying it, ever.

Instead he just opens his mouth, "No. I need to take my revenge for earlier."

Yunho's eyes are bubbling with amusement and he's trying to hold back one of his big goofy cheek-bunching teeth-showing grins, "Revenge? For what? You liked it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Mingi walks backwards towards his bed and when the back of his knees hit the mattress, he sits down safely on it.

This is... fun?

Mingi feels a surge of excitement in his belly and he's giddy with it. He hasn't felt like this in a long, long time, even around Yunho.

Yunho rushes towards him and it knocks them both down on the bed, with Yunho straddling Mingi, as always. This time though, Mingi sits up immediately before Yunho can slip his hands up, to his ribs, and cups the back of his neck to draw him into a quick kiss.

His heart is thudding because he's never done this ever, and he isn't sure of how to go about it, and he wants to kiss Yunho so bad, and he's just nervous, okay?

He pulls out slightly and watches as Yunho's arms wrap around his shoulders and his face leans closer and his lips land on Mingi's again, more firmly and with intent and Mingi just goes with it, sighing with delight into the kiss.

Yunho's lips are a bit chapped and they taste like Mingi's toothpaste and Mingi's addicted. He's addicted to the press of flesh, soft and intimate. He's addicted to Yunho's movements and the little noises he makes. He's addicted to the way Yunho's tongue laps at his cupidsbow like it's the sweetest candy and the way his teeth graze his bottom lip because his smile is too hard to contain. Mingi's addicted to the way Yunho's tongue swipes over the seam of his lips making them part instantly.

He pulls out a little because his tongue just touched Yunho's tongue and it felt weird. Like really weird. But not bad weird, it's the good kind.

And Yunho pulls out completely and looks at Mingi to assess the situation.

"Your tongue.."

"Mmh?"

"-'s weird," there's a pause and he adds, "Not bad though, just... weird."

And Yunho bursts into laughter and Mingi smiles at him,

"God! That was cute."

"Cute? You think I'm cute?"

"Mmh."

.

They're lying in bed and their clothes are off. They're not naked though, Mingi still has his boxers on and Yunho too.

Yunho's hand is on Mingi's thigh and they're just laying facing each other, bodies parallel. They're just talking.

"Do you think Seonghwa-hyung is okay?"

"I think he will be, he has Hongjoong-hyung with him."

"Were you okay back then?"

"I don't know, I don't think I was. I don't remember much about it really."

Yunho lays a fingerpad, whispering, on each of Mingi's bruises on his thigh.

"What about you? Were you okay?"

Yunho shrugs, "Probably not, but you guys made it better."

Mingi runs a finger down Yunho's neckline, following the slope of his shoulder and down his arm to reach the hand resting on his thigh.

"Sometimes I don't sleep."

Sometimes Mingi stays up all night and marinates in his own anxious warmth. Sometimes his hands become so hot he can feel his heartbeat under his nails and it's the only thing his brain can focus on.

Sometimes sleep comes but Mingi stays aware, restless, he can hear everything, he can still see the light shift in the room. Sometimes sleep does come and Mingi's lulled into a world where he's unable to move, stuck in place, bound to his spot. A world where his heart is missing. A world where people poke and prod at him like he's some sort of insignificant insect. A world where people's faces look the same and different at the same time.

Sometimes Mingi can't sleep.

"Sometimes I can't breathe."

Sometimes the voices follow Mingi all the way back to his dreams and choke him. Sometimes his lungs are so heavy, taking a breath seems impossible. Sometimes Mingi's focus is on something else, other than breathing, and he gasps for air because he forgot to.

And sometimes he breathes and breathes and breathes but nothing comes in, instead, everything spills out.

"Sometimes I don't know what I am."

Sometimes Mingi clenches his fists, digs his nails into his palms, and brings them to his chest. Sometimes he grips his thigh, pinches, and it hurts. Sometimes something's crawling up his skin and he can't tell whether it's inside of him or outside, in his head or where he can see it.

Most times, Mingi lies in bed in the middle of the day and stares up at his ceiling with music playing in the background.

Yunho has tangled their legs and is hugging him around the waiste. He shuffles closer to Mingi and Mingi's words are landing straight onto his lips.

"Have you ever felt my heart beat?"

Yunho slips a hand up Mingi's chest, pressing his fingers lightly on his sternum, feeling the skin reverently under his digits, the softness under his palms, and rests his hand over Mingi's heart,

"Always. It's my favorite..."

Mingi's stunned. Yunho's close enough to see even Mingi's microexpressions, and his hand is on his chest and he feels him, he feels it beating, and he always has. He always has and it's his favorite. He always has and Mingi always was. Alive. Mingi has been alive all this time.

His mind goes blank.

He is alive. He's alive and lying in Yunho's arms and Yunho's palm is resting on his beating heart and Mingi is alive.

Yunho raises his head and drops an open-mouthed kiss on Mingi's throat, right under his jaw, over his pulse point and with the hand that was on his chest, he cups his neck on the under side, thumb pressing on his jugular, to keep Mingi there.

Mingi lets out a surprised gasp and shivers when he feels Yunho's tongue lick the skin gently,

"Here."

And Yunho's mouth travels to the other side of Mingi's throat, where his thumb is pressing on his vein, and he sucks the skin and Mingi hums.

He's falling apart.

His heart is picking up pace and, for once, it's not from anxiety.

"-'n here too."

Yunho noses along Mingi's throat, down, down, down to where his hand was resting on his chest earlier. He burries his nose between Mingi's pecks and inhales, "Mhm, here.."

And he keeps going, further down Mingi's torso, and Mingi's losing his mind. His skin tickles and it's buzzing with excitement, thrilling, vibrating with it.

Mingi wants, wants, wants!

Yunho stops around Mingi's bellybutton, a path drawn and littered with kisses and small bites with Yunho's immense hands roaming and kneading his flesh, and Mingi can't hold it any longer.

Yunho turns Mingi onto his back and hovers over his stomach, "I feel it beating here too," and he dives in, lapping at Mingi's skin, around his bellybutton, pressing it hard against his firm muscles and Mingi lets out a soft moan.

Yunho squeezes the flesh of Mingi's sides and Mingi moans again, louder.

Fuck!

"Yun-ho..."

"Mmh?"

Yunho's getting dangerously closer to Mingi's crotch area and Mingi's already breathing raggedly. He's hard and pulsing in his underwear and Yunho's throat is right above it, his bulging Adam's apple is brushing against it and fuck!

"Yunho-y-ah.."

Yunho kisses his navel, down the skinny trail of hair, nose burried there and lips sucking rhythmically. Yunho's gonna break him. Yunho's gonna break him!

"There's one more place left where I could feel your heartbeat Minki-ah.."

Mingi looks down at Yunho and the sight is devious. He's gonna break him.

Yunho's resting his chin on a spot right under his bellybutton, a spot that is tense from anticipation, firm, and can keep his chin from sinking lower down his body, and is looking up at Mingi through his lashes, eyes wide and beady, teasing him with fake innocence.

Mingi scrunches his eyes shut and whines as he covers his face with his arm.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Yunho's hands are on his hips, kneeding the flesh of his butt, over his boxers, and Mingi wants so, so bad!

"Yunho-yah, please..."

Yunho hooks his chin on the waisteband of his boxers and he pulls down, eyes still watching Mingi's reactions.

"Yunho!"

Yunho raises himself on his hands, and away from Mingi's tingling skin and hurries over to Mingi's face. He removes the arm covering his eyes and leans closer.

Mingi's looking at him, lips parted, breathing in Yunho's breaths. Sharing his air.

"I want-" Mingi's never done this, ever, and he never thought he'd be doing it with Yunho. He wants him though. He wants Yunho really bad, but he's finding it hard to say outloud. To pronounce the words and leave them hanging in the air, solid and there. Make them happen. Make them heard.

"Want you..."

It's quiet.

Mingi whispers, because it's weird and he's never said those words and they're true and he's ashamed of them. He whispers so they can fall on Yunho's lips. He whispers because Yunho's so close, he can catch the words and swallow them for him, absorb them before they have time to solidify.

And Yunho does.

He kisses him, tongue swiping over his lips and unhinging his jaw, it feels the ridges of his palate, licks at the backs of his teeth and plays with Mingi's tongue.

Mingi moans and it vibrates through his throat, spreads towards his tongue, palpitating and Yunho smiles.

Mingi's fisting the sheets because Yunho's hair is too close and he can't -- he won't, grab it. Nope, that's... not what he wants to do. At all.

Yunho pulls out. Mingi's not done, he follows his lips like a starved infant, he wants him.

Okay, nevermind, Yunho's hair deserves to be grabbed after all. He told him he wanted him, why was he pulling away?

Yunho's smiling down at him and swipes his thumb on the corner of Mingi's mouth, "God, this is insane..."

"Why?"

"You're out of this world..."

"What the fuck, you sap," Mingi giggles because Yunho's dumb.

"I'm a total sap for you baby.."

Mingi slaps Yunho's arm, but it has no power, no animosity, because he's too busy trying to repress his blush. It's weak because Yunho called him 'baby' and Mingi's heart tripped.

Yunho watches Mingi as his face heats up, and smirks, and Mingi slaps him harder this time, "Dumbass."

"You like it.."

Mingi doesn't answer.

"You do! You like it when I call you baby?"

"Fuck you."

"I was about to.."

"Shut up! Oh my God, you talk too much man- uhng!"

Yunho's rubbing Mingi's bulge and if Mingi wasn't trying to breathe properly he would have punched his arm, because that was unfair.

"Thought princess was as far as it was gonna get."

"Yunho-yah, I swear-!"

And Yunho drops a kiss on Mingi's lips, "It's hot Mingya."

Mingi whines and rests his hand on the arm that's working over his bulge. Teeth digging in his bottom lip, because fuck! Yunho's good at this...

He's leaking, he knows it, he can feel it. Hot and sticky and leaking.

Yunho shuffles on top of him as he sprinkles kisses and small bites along his throat. They moan in unison when their crotches rub and Mingi rotates his hips to create more friction, to feel more. He needs more.

"Fuck-"

Yunho's proped on his elbows and his head hangs low, weak from pleasure and Mingi smiles slightly. He did that. He made Yunho shut up all alone, when he's never done any of this before.

Mingi preens briefly before moaning loud and obscene because Yunho's sucking the skin under his jaw, right on his pulse point, and hard with his teeth sinking in the flesh shallowly.

"Ah- Yunho!"

"Mmhm"

Mingi keeps going wildly, grinding and grinding, thrusting upwards into Yunho. He's so close his stomach is twisting and his gut is tickling and his chest is flaring and his back is arching. He's so, so close.

Yunho rolls his hips, moves to match Mingi's erratic pace and it's all it takes for Mingi to tip over and spill.

"Fuck- baby.."

And Mingi rides his high, neck beared and mouth hanging open in a silent scream, breaths coming out in a quick short successions.

Yes, yes, yes!

And he feels Yunho cum as well. He bites Mingi's collarbone and drops his forehead on Mingi's chest, arms circling around him as he drops his weight on top of him.

"God! That was..."

"Yeah.."

"Tell me when you want me to move, I'll rest on top of you for a sec'..."

"You mean, you're gonna fall asleep on top of me.."

Yunho doesn't answer.

"Yunho-yah?"

"Mmhm?"

"Don't you dare fall asleep.."

"Mmh."

And he falls asleep.

.

Mingi's shirtless at Yunho's place, lying on his floor cushions with a wild Yunho stuck to his back.

Nothing has changed.

Mingi still spends hours staring at the ceiling with his music playing in the background, lying down on any flat surface wide enough to welcome his starfish-spread body.

Mingi still loses himself looking at the pond in the neighbor's backyard while his Ramyeon is overflowing and spilling on the stove.

Mingi still tries to hold a plank for an entire minute before getting distracted by the littlest thing, and he still procrastinates getting back at it.

Mingi still thinks it's a blessing that he lives alone when he becomes painfully aware of something stupid he did in the safety and privacy of his flat.

He still hates phone-calls and only answers his mom's, because he doesn't hate her and he needs to beat Yunho on the best son ranking. This asshole freaking texts her everyday! He has her saved as 'MOM n°2' with a fucking heart as a profile picture!

He still has trouble falling asleep at night and finds himself struggling to breathe after waking up in a jolt.

Still hates to go outside and walk the busy streets, even when Wooyoung leaves a spare can of coffee for him, at the seven-eleven, during his shift.

Hongjoong still barges in, uninvited, sometimes and blames Mingi for not answering his phone. He still drags him out for drinks when no one else is available.

Seonghwa is still as heartbreakingly good to Mingi, and he still goes to him when he needs to talk. Mingi also tries to be there for him when Seonghwa has worries he needs to get out in the open, although it's been about Hongjoong lately.

Yunho's still his best friend, he still thinks he's the best thing that happened to his life and they still hang out randomly, unplanned and spontaneous, whenever they feel like seeing each other.

Except now, they kiss.

Except now, Mingi can stare as much as he wants to, in theory. He's still working on that...

Except now, Yunho drags him everywhere with him and holds his hand in the street.

Except now, Mingi can want and Yunho will grant, because he wants just as much.

Except now, Yunho clings to Mingi's skin, literally. Especially his waiste and back.

Yunho's obsessed with Mingi's back. In fact, that's why Mingi is shirtless right now. Yunho had called him over to play video games together, and as soon as he stepped inside Yunho's appartement, he launched himself at him and kissed the air out of him with Mingi pressed against the door. Mingi's addicted to making out with Yunho and, to his demise, things happen without him even noticing.

Sometime between two breaths and three presses of the lips, his shirt disappeared and re-appeared at his feet, balled up like the insignificant piece of cloth that it was.

Mingi threw his head backwards because fuck! Yunho was going to break him. His brain ceases to function when Yunho's tongue laps down his throat and his lips bite lightly at his colarbones like that.

"Yu-Yunho-"

"Missed you.."

"Fuck- Yunho-yah..."

"Spend the night Minki-ah."

"Yun-ho.."

"Please. Baby, please?"

"God! Mmh-"

And now Mingi was lying on the cushions on his stomach, Nintendo between his hands and Yunho straddling his butt and -- supposedly giving him a massage, but Mingi knew all to well that he was using it as an excuse to feel him up...

Pervert..

Yunho is pressing his torso onto Mingi's back and Mingi's arms -- although trained from the many planks he held -- give out quickly. He drops down with a groan and gives up on trying to ignore Yunho. This man is a beast, so persistent..

"Do you workout Minkya?"

"Does it show?"

"Maybe a little... will you workout tomorrow?"

"Mmh maybe, why?"

"Can I watch?"

Mingi gasps in fake outrage, "Yunho-ssi, are you openly admitting to being a pervert?"

"Haven't I gotten that out of the way already?"

"God! I didn't know Jaggi only wanted me for my body.."

Yunho rakes his nails over Mingi's shoulder blades. The flesh is squishy under his fingers. He doesn't reply.

"Yunho-yah?"

"Mmh?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah..."

It's quiet. And it hits Mingi right in the face.

Wow.

"Are you shy? 'Cause I called you Jaggi?"

Yunho scrapes his nails lower down Mingi's back and adjusts himself on his butt.

Oh my God.

Mingi raises himself on his arms and pushes Yunho off of him. He doesn't have to make much of an effort because Yunho slips easily from his spot, down on the cushion next to him. Mingi crawles on all fours towards him to cage Yunho with his arms,

"Jaggi likes leaving scratch marks on my back?"

Yunho swallows and his eyes sparkle with mischief.

"Jaggi's a pervert for my body?"

Yunho is holding back a smile with a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

He nods and throws his arms around Mingi's neck,

"Mmh, I like all of you Mingi-yah~"

And Mingi laughs, low and rumbling, and falls on top of Yunho who's still attached to his neck.

"Me too Yunho-yah. I like all of you too."

.

.