Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Mingyu!”

The sharp call of his name preceded the sound of his door slamming open. Normally, he’d jolt at the intrusion, irritation bubbling over as he yelled at Jeonghan for being so loud so early in the morning. But today, he didn’t even flinch. His body felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive, while his mind buzzed with the remnants of last night’s chaos.

Last night.

It felt like a fever dream. Wonwoo asking him to date him. Wonwoo standing there, so calm and composed, while Mingyu felt like the ground beneath his feet was crumbling. His persuasion. His confidence. Him.

Mingyu didn’t get a wink of sleep. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts spiraling endlessly. Now, even as dim morning light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting long, gray shadows across the floor, he felt like a ghost of himself. His room was still and quiet, but his chest felt suffocatingly tight.

Jeonghan sat down at the edge of his bed with a dramatic sigh, close enough to jostle the mattress slightly. “What kind of walk did you go on, dude? You were back so late, and you didn’t even pick up your phone. I was worried, you dumbass,” he scolded, though his tone was more exasperated than angry.

Mingyu finally shifted, turning his head slightly to look at Jeonghan. His eyes were rimmed red, heavy-lidded from exhaustion. His voice, soft and hoarse, broke the stillness.

“Hyung,” he croaked, the word barely above a whisper. “Save me.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widened with alarm as he sat up straighter, scooting closer to Mingyu. “Huh? What? Are you sick?” His hand instinctively reached out, pressing against Mingyu’s forehead to check his temperature. After a moment, he let out a sigh of relief. “Just a little warm. Nothing too alarming.” His voice softened as he tilted his head to get a better look at his friend’s tired face. “Mingyu, bud, what’s wrong?”

Mingyu shifted closer, his movements sluggish and uncharacteristically vulnerable. Without a word, he laid his head on Jeonghan’s lap, his heavy sigh muffling into Jeonghan’s pajama pants. “Hyung, I don’t know what to do,” he whined, his voice small and laced with exhaustion.

Jeonghan froze for a second, startled by the rare display of vulnerability, before relaxing into the moment. He gently ran his fingers through Mingyu’s hair, a silent gesture of comfort.

Mingyu took a deep breath before spilling everything—starting with the morning after the party, waking up next to Wonwoo, and leading up to last night’s deal. Every detail, every confusion, every unspoken feeling came pouring out as Jeonghan listened intently, his expression gradually shifting from concerned to something unreadable.

Jeonghan gently combed his fingers through Mingyu’s hair, an affectionate gesture meant to soothe the younger man as he tried to piece together his thoughts. “Alright, Gyu, let me get this straight. You think you owe Wonwoo because he took care of you that night?”

Mingyu nodded against Jeonghan’s lap, his voice muffled. “He went out of his way to help me when he didn’t even know me, hyung. And now he’s using that to make me... date him? It’s so confusing.”

Jeonghan let out a soft hum, his sharp mind already picking apart the situation. “Mingyu, you’re forgetting a couple of important things here. First off, you didn’t ask him to help you that night, did you? You were too drunk to even function. From what I remember, it was Seungcheol who asked Wonwoo to take you home. If anything, Cheol’s the one who owes Wonwoo, not you.”

Mingyu blinked, his face tilting up to look at Jeonghan. “But—”

“No buts,” Jeonghan cut him off with a pointed look. “Think about it. Wonwoo might’ve done something kind, sure, but you already thanked him, didn’t you? You even gave him your number when he asked for it. That’s more than enough gratitude for someone you didn’t even know back then.”

Mingyu hesitated, chewing on his lip. “But it feels wrong, hyung. Like, what if he’s right? What if I do owe him?”

Jeonghan’s hand stilled for a moment before he sighed, exasperated but patient. “Gyu, listen to me. Kindness doesn’t come with strings attached. If Wonwoo helped you just to use it as leverage later, then that’s not your problem. That’s on him. You don’t owe anyone your time or feelings just because they did something nice for you—especially if they’re guilting you into it.”

“But what if I say no? What if he hates me for it?”

“Then let him,” Jeonghan said firmly, his gaze soft but unyielding. “You deserve better than someone who manipulates you into a relationship, Gyu. You’re not some favor he can cash in. If he really likes you, he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t, well...” He shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Then he’s not worth it, is he?”

Mingyu stayed quiet for a long moment, clearly torn. Finally, he muttered, “But hyung... I don’t know. What if he really likes me? What if he’s been... waiting for me to say something?”

Jeonghan’s expression softened, his tone thoughtful. “Then ask him, Gyu. Ask Wonwoo why he wants to date you. Does he even like you? Get the answers you need, and stop guessing. You’re not some prize he can win with a favor.”

Mingyu lay there, his mind racing. Jeonghan’s words kept swirling in his head—ask Wonwoo, does he even like you? The idea of confronting Wonwoo made his stomach tighten. What if he was wrong about everything? What if Wonwoo didn’t feel the same way, and this whole situation had just been a mess of mixed signals? But then, what if Jeonghan was right? What if Wonwoo was just using him, and Mingyu was too blinded by his crush to see it? He thought about the way Wonwoo had looked at him that night—kindness, sure, but was there something more? Or had he been imagining it, building up this hope in his head that didn’t even exist? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but deep down, he knew Jeonghan was right. He couldn’t keep clinging to this feeling, this idea that maybe, just maybe, Wonwoo was waiting for him to make a move. He needed to know the truth—whatever it was—because living in this haze of doubt was only hurting him more.

******

Throughout the day, Mingyu moved around like a zombie—shuffling from class to class with a droopy face, deep sighs, and hunched shoulders. Anyone who saw him exchanged worried glances, even the usually cruel mathematics professor looked concerned. But Mingyu wasn’t sad. He was disappointed, yes, that his first-ever uni crush was practically going downhill. He was a little scared too, at the thought of confronting Wonwoo.

That was the other thing he was dreading: facing Wonwoo. After the conversation with Jeonghan, Mingyu got overly motivated and texted Wonwoo to meet at a café near campus after classes. Now, all he wanted was to hide in a corner of his room and pretend it never happened. Because confronting Wonwoo would lead to two possible outcomes: Wonwoo being adamant about it, or Wonwoo disappearing from his life forever. Either way, Mingyu would lose the chance to call him "his"—even if only in his own head.

But it was too late now. Maybe it was because the dumbass was already at the café, way earlier than necessary. Leaving now would be a mistake. He could either crash into Wonwoo on the way, creating an awkward situation, or the employees would rat him out if Wonwoo asked around.

So, Mingyu remained seated. Like a good, obedient boy. His back straight, hands folded in his lap, legs pressed together. He looked like he was here for a job interview, not a confrontation with his… well, he didn’t even have a name for whatever Wonwoo was to him. Jesus Christ.

The café ambience was good though, with a cozy, vintage charm: warm golden afternoon light filtering through frosted windows and mismatched chairs around small wooden tables. On one side, an overcomplicated coffee system buzzed with activity—gleaming espresso machines and grinders whirring under the hands of baristas, while a chalkboard menu overhead listed an overwhelming array of options, from simple black coffee to indulgent flavored lattes.

Mingyu ordered his usual iced Americano and settled into his seat, glancing occasionally at the door. His thoughts drifted back to Jeonghan’s words earlier at the dorm: “You deserve better than someone who manipulates you into a relationship, Gyu. You’re not some favor he can cash in. If he really likes you, he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t, then he’s not worth it, is he?”

That’s right, Mingyu thought, his grip tightening around his cup. If Wonwoo really liked him, he would understand. And if he didn’t—then maybe he wasn’t worth it after all.

He didn’t have to wait long. The café door chimed open, and in walked Wonwoo, effortlessly striking. While Mingyu felt like he’d been run over by a bus, disheveled and exhausted, Wonwoo was the picture of composure. He wore a black leather jacket over a white tank top that subtly highlighted his toned abs (which Mingyu absolutely did not stare at for too long) and paired it with faded denim jeans. He looked like the epitome of a bad boy—cool, confident, and completely out of reach.

Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s eyes, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He strode towards the table with an easy confidence, pulling back the chair with a soft scrape against the floor. Sitting down, he rested one arm casually on the table, leaning slightly forward.

“So,” Wonwoo began, his voice low and teasing, “what’s with the urgent invite? Didn’t think you were the type to be so serious, darling.”

Mingyu felt a familiar heat rising in his chest, his fingers tightening around the cup as he stared back at Wonwoo. His words needed to land, needed to cut through the playful tone that was getting under his skin. “I have questions,” he said, steadying his voice. “Questions about… that.”

“That?” Wonwoo’s glasses gleamed as he raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something almost infuriatingly smug. “Oh, you mean how you owe me—and how it’s time to return the favor?”

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Yes.” He pushed his coffee cup aside with deliberate precision, then leaned forward, doing his best to look intimidating. “You think I owe you because you took me to your place when I was too drunk to even stand properly? Let’s clear that up. You didn’t do it out of the goodness of your heart—you did it because Seungcheol hyung asked you to. So if anyone owes you, it’s him.”

He paused, his glare unwavering. “And if you’re still clinging to that, I gave you my number the next day, which was all the thanks you needed. So, no, hyung. I owe you absolutely nothing.”

Wonwoo stared at him for a long, quiet moment, his expression unreadable, the smirk from earlier wiped clean off his face. Mingyu braced himself, heart pounding, as the silence stretched between them. Then, finally, Wonwoo broke it—not with words, but with a low, rumbling chuckle that grew into a full fit of laughter, his head tilting back slightly.

“Well, aren’t you feisty today,” Wonwoo said, his voice laced with a dangerous blend of amusement and something darker as his gaze flickered back to Mingyu, the smirk now creeping its way back onto his lips. “I didn’t think you had it in you, but I have to admit… this is entertaining.”

Mingyu’s face hardened, all the resolve he’d mustered earlier melting away under the weight of Wonwoo’s laugh. “I’m serious,” he said, voice firm despite the warmth creeping up his neck. “This isn’t a joke.”

Wonwoo leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table as his laughter subsided into a sly grin. “Oh, I know you’re serious,” he replied, his tone teasing but his eyes sharp. “That’s what makes it so fun.”

Mingyu clenched his jaw, refusing to let Wonwoo’s smugness get the better of him. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“And yet, here you are,” Wonwoo countered smoothly, leaning back in his chair with an air of infuriating nonchalance. “Sitting across from me, ready to negotiate your so-called debt. You could’ve just ignored me, but you didn’t.”

Mingyu bit the inside of his cheek, words caught in his throat. He wanted to fire back, but the way Wonwoo’s gaze pinned him down made his brain short-circuit.

“So,” Wonwoo said, his grin softening into something almost unreadable. “What’s the plan then, darling? You’ve got nothing to owe me, but here you are.”

Mingyu’s heart pounded loudly in his chest, the thudding so loud it almost drowned out everything else. This wasn’t how he’d expected things to go. How can I possibly counter this? His thoughts scrambled, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, steadying his shaking hands as he clasped them together. “I... wanted to hear you out,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo’s gaze softened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. He didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between them, and for a moment, Mingyu was sure he’d said something wrong. But then, Wonwoo leaned in slightly, eyes locking with Mingyu’s in a way that made his breath catch.

“You wanted to hear me out?” Wonwoo repeated, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. There was a shift in his demeanor, the teasing edge dulling just a little. “Well, I’m listening, Mingyu. What do you want to know?”

Mingyu swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The question was simple enough, but the answer... Was he even ready for the answer? His throat tightened, and his words came out slower than he intended.

“Why... Why do you want me to date you? Is it just because of that night, or is there something else? I need to know.” His voice was steady, but his heart was racing. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, his palms still pressed tightly together in an attempt to keep himself grounded.

Wonwoo’s smirk didn’t falter. He straightened, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of his glasses, adjusting them with casual precision. The movement made Mingyu’s chest tighten inexplicably.

“You want to know why I asked you to date me?” Wonwoo began, his words slow and deliberate, each one carrying a weight that Mingyu wasn’t sure he was prepared for. “It’s not because I like you. It’s not about anything serious.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “I need you to pretend. Fake it. Make it look real. That’s all.”

Mingyu’s pulse quickened, his mind spinning as he tried to process the sudden shift. Fake it? That wasn’t what he had expected at all. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, unsure of what to even ask.

Wonwoo leaned in closer, his breath warm against Mingyu’s face as he spoke, his voice dark with authority. “You don’t get to ask why. You just do it. And you do it well.” The command in his tone made Mingyu’s chest tighten, his body caught between confusion and something else he couldn’t quite place.

Mingyu’s words were slow to form, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. “What’s the catch?” he managed, his voice hoarse. “Why me?”

Wonwoo’s gaze flickered over him, eyes glinting with something haunting behind the black rimmed glasses. “Because you’re easy. You didn’t ask for it, but the situation just worked out perfectly, didn’t it?” Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, the amusement never leaving his expression. “You fell right into my lap when I needed it. You’re exactly the kind of person who’d play along with this... little game of mine.”

Mingyu’s chest tightened, but he couldn’t look away. The simplicity of Wonwoo’s words, the casualness with which they were spoken—it unsettled him more than it should have. “And what exactly do I get out of this?” he shot back, trying to find his footing.

“Nothing. You get nothing,” Wonwoo said, his smile returning, but this time it was colder, more calculated. “I didn’t offer you anything. I’m not offering you anything. You’ll do this because I’m asking.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and Mingyu’s throat went dry. He opened his mouth, then closed it, caught between fury and disbelief. He wanted to snap back, but something in Wonwoo’s gaze—something so intense, so unreadable—kept him rooted in place.

“Then I have no point in agreeing.” He intended for it to come out sharper, but it was soft—barely more than a whisper.

Wonwoo’s eyes hardened, his smirk shifting into something almost predatory. It was as if backing out wouldn’t just be an option—it would be a curse. As if Wonwoo would haunt Mingyu for eternity if he tried. And a sick, twisted part of Mingyu was relieved.

“You’re right,” Wonwoo said, his voice cool, almost amused. “You have no point in agreeing.”

Mingyu stared at him, the words settling uneasily in his chest. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe walking away now wouldn’t mean losing everything—but what if it did? He swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Was this a test? A trap? Or maybe, just maybe, a way out?