Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You never told me your good news,” Yunho whispers into the dark. 

After they both cleaned up, Mingi had dug through his dresser and threw a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized shirt at him. The assumption of Yunho staying the night had hung in the air for a couple of seconds, until he’d wordlessly pulled the shirt over his head. 

“Oh, right!” Mingi turns onto his side to face him. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his proud smile. “I passed the class! Got a 90 on the final.”

Holy shit. He did it. Well, of course he did. Yunho knows how hard he worked for it. 

“That’s amazing!” Without thinking, he brings up a hand to cup Mingi’s face before leaning in to kiss him quickly. “I’m so proud of you, Min.”

Then the self-doubt sets in. They haven’t addressed anything yet. What if everything they just did resulted from too many drinks and unresolved tension? What if Mingi wants it to be a one-night situation? Their legs are still tangled together, left over contact from when Mingi draped himself across him earlier. He feels the itch to pull back, to protect himself from the possibility of rejection. 

But then, the blond is poking his cheek. “You’re thinking too hard about something.”

“Huh?”

“You make a face when you worry too much,” he explains. “What’s wrong?” 

A warmth blooms in his chest at the idea that Mingi knows him well enough to read him so quickly. “… This is okay, right? Us?” 

He isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but it’s not for Mingi to laugh at him. A full-on eyes-squinting-until-they’re-crescents giggle. Once it settles, he brushes a stray hair out of Yunho’s eyes. “Remember when I asked you about the worms?”

“Yeah?”

He then presses his palm against Yunho’s forehead. “I think I gave you whatever delusional fever I had back then.”

Yunho rolls his eyes, scoffing as he fights off the heat rising to his cheeks. “Okay, I get it, hilarious.”

“Seriously, though,” he softens, “we’re better than good. I mean, as long as that’s okay with you?”

Yunho nods. “More than okay.”

January

When the clock strikes midnight, Mingi is already asleep. He’s on his side, practically spooning Yunho, who’s still too wired to even close his eyes. 

It’s so stupid. He should be fucking elated, yet here he is, unable to sleep thanks to the toxic sludge of guilt swirling in his gut. Everything is too much. Mingi’s clothes smell too good, his bed is too soft, his grasp on Yunho is too caring, even while dreaming. He doesn’t deserve any of this. Not with the way he got here.

He told San that he’d tell Mingi the truth after finals. Yesterday, he still intended to keep that promise. That was before he found out how Mingi tasted, though; before he got to see him staring up from between his legs. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t regret what they did. He can’t, not with how happy the other looked in the last seconds before sleep took over. His mind races through scenarios. Realistically, how long could he even keep up this charade for? How long will it take before the other notices that something is off? The longer he waits, the deeper he’ll be digging his own grave.

It’s settled, then. 

He’ll tell him tomorrow afternoon. He’ll ask him to go somewhere private just the two of them, maybe a nearby park, and lay everything out on the table. Just imagining it puts a weight on his chest, but he has no other choice. Maybe if he words it the right way, Mingi will forgive him. First, he has to do something else, though.

“Min?” Light snores cut through the quiet air and he almost feels bad for disturbing him.

He hears a hum, and the arms around his waist tighten. He can’t hold back the way the corners of his lips tug upwards.

“Min, wake up,” he shifts again. Another groan. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“To the right,” he grumbles into the nape of his neck. Yunho has to hold back a shiver from where the warm breath hits him.

Slowly, he peels away Mingi’s limbs until he can safely get up.

There’s a small man standing in the common area when he leaves the bedroom. Well, maybe small is a slight exaggeration. Small compared to himself. Either way, he’s staring at him; two empty glasses in his hands. 

“Hey,” Yunho starts, torn between retreating to Mingi’s bed or introducing himself. “I’m Yunho-”

“Mingi’s tutor.” His eyes scan over him to take the taller one in, as if he’s analyzing him carefully. “You wrecked my shoes.”

It’s an accusation, he realizes, not a question. “Oh, um, yeah. Sorry about that. You must be his other roommate?”

“Hongjoong.” There are dark circles under his eyes that say he’s too tired to deal with him, but knows he has to be civil. After a moment, he walks over to the sink in the kitchenette. “Is Mingi asleep in his room?”

Yunho nods and watches as the other fills the glasses dangerously close to the top with water. He has bright orange hair that hangs over his forehead, and Yunho vaguely wonders how he never noticed him with something so eye-catching. 

The tension continues to hang in the air. Why did he come out here again? Just as he remembers, Hongjoong is walking towards him with two full glasses.

“Listen,” he takes a deep breath before continuing. “Mingi is… sensitive, okay? People think that he’s tough because he knows how to put up a confident front around them. And he is strong, but you can’t just fuck around with him.”

Oh. He thinks Yunho is just… What? Using him for sex? The idea is ridiculous, but he has a feeling that laughing would just make him angry.

“I’m not trying to—”

“He’s going through some stuff,” He glances to the side quickly, his voice softening, “but he talks about you a lot. So don’t fuck it up.”

Before he can get a word in, the other is turning on his heel and making his way to the bedroom furthest from Mingi’s. He can hear a faint voice come from inside right before the door clicks shut as he stands there, stunned.

Eventually, he shakes himself from his thoughts long enough to head to the bathroom, pulling out his phone as the door locks behind him. He leans his hip against the counter. It’s covered in different hair products, but he can’t bring himself to be surprised. He scrolls through his previously installed apps.

Finally, he clicks the blue button: Re-install

It only takes a moment for the download to finish, and the next thing Yunho knows, he’s typing in his email and password to sign in to Discord. He hardly got to message Mingi last night considering he was with, well, Mingi, but he wants to make sure he can at least do this one thing.

yu._.u: happy new year
yu._.u: :)

After sending the message, he quickly closes his app and makes his way back to Mingi’s room. When he gets there, he finds Mingi laying on his stomach in the middle of the bed, shirt ridden up and blanket hanging off of him enough to expose the skin of his lower back.

Yunho stares for an embarrassingly long time before realizing that he can actually get into the bed. Those worries of being too weird, too much, too close, don’t need to flood his head anymore. Mingi wants him. The thought alone makes it a little hard to breathe, but in a good way, for once.

Somehow, the other is already wrapped around him by the time he settles into the sheets. Heat radiates off of him, but not uncomfortably so. If anything, it helps to soothe the undercurrent of panic in his chest.

The first thing Yunho registers is light bright enough to burn. The second is that Mingi is not beside him. The third is the weight sinking into the mattress at his feet. 

That last fact pushes him to slowly open his eyes, rubbing them until he can clearly see Mingi sitting at the foot of the bed.

Immediately, Yunho knows that something is wrong. His heart drops, and he props himself up with his elbow.

“Min, what happened?”

“I was texting my friend, Yu. I sent a few in a row, and then something weird happened.” Mingi looks over to the phone that’s been carefully set on the bed. Yunho’s phone. Face down. 

“Your phone started going off.”

Oh-

“I thought you set an alarm or something to make sure you didn’t sleep in. You looked so tired, though, so I went to snooze it for you.”

Oh no.

“Yunho?” Finally, Mingi looks at him, voice wavering.

He swallows, that dull undercurrent of panic rising in his chest until it’s a tsunami. It’s too soon. This isn’t happening. This can’t be real. He’s going to wake up any second now with Mingi wrapped around him and a smile on his face. “Yeah?”

“Why were my messages to Yu on your phone?”

He isn’t sure what happens first; his mouth going dry; his blood pounding in his ears; his palms sweating. “… I need to tell you something.”

He frowns at him, waiting expectantly.

“Can I get dressed first?”

Mingi nods slowly, looking away from him once again, face completely void of emotion. His hands are on his knees, gripping at the fabric as if that will hold him together. As quickly as he can, Yunho gathers his clothes from last night off of the floor and bolts to the bathroom.

He doesn’t give himself time to think things through, and instead tears off the cedar-scented pajamas before putting his own t-shirt and jeans back on. He only gives himself a second to glance in the mirror before leaving.

Mingi is in the same spot when he gets back, still stonefaced. Yunho sits on the edge of the bed next to him, giving the other enough space to process what’s about to happen. 

Yunho takes in a gulp of air. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to say this. I mean, I’ve been trying for a long time.” His voice shakes at the end, and he has to swallow again to keep his mouth from going dry. It’s done. Mingi already knows. This is all just fucking theatrics at this point.

“You saw those messages because,” he pauses again, “I’m Yu.”

At least fifteen different emotions flash across Mingi’s face, starting with relief and ending in confusion. “That would mean… You know everything that I told Yu about you?”

Yunho nods. His fingers absentmindedly pick at the quilt under him.

There’s a long silence as he takes the information in. Yunho’s hand itches to take Mingi’s, to peel his fingers off of the fisted fabric of his pants, but he stops himself at the last second. If he were to reach out only to have him pull away… That would break any kind of composure he can muster.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of you getting upset and then distracted from your classes and failing.”

Mingi chokes out a scoff. The first sign of unrestrained emotion he’s shown so far. “We both know that’s bullshit. Tell me the real reason.”

There’s a second knot making its way up his throat, threatening to choke him if he admits any more. He notices that Mingi’s eyelashes are glittering under the light as he shakes his head. “Because I thought you’d hate me.”

“No, try again.”

Try again? That’s the truth, though. It’s what he told San - what he’s been telling himself - this whole time. But Mingi is right here, and he could throw him out at any second. So Yunho squeezes his eyes shut and tries to dig deeper. If he’s going to lay everything on the table today, he needs to do it now.

“Because I like you. I like you so, so much, Min. I feel like I’ve known you for years, and the idea of you never wanting to speak to me again was paralyzing. But the longer I went without telling you, the worse it would get. I wanted to do it today.”

He blinks in disbelief. “So you thought you’d just lie to me? For months? You knew how I felt about you, and you let me look like an idiot while I unknowingly fawned over you to you.”

“What? No, you’ve never looked like an idiot. I was—I’m just an asshole, okay? You’ve done literally nothing wrong since the moment we met.”

Mingi runs a hand through his hair in frustration after letting out a long breath. “… The worst part is that, when I saw those notifications, I was happy. I thought, ‘great, now I don’t have to keep freaking out about shit! My two favourite people are the same person, and he’s sleeping right in front of me!’”

Hongjoong’s words from last night echo in his head. “What do you mean, freaking out?”

Suddenly Mingi is standing up. He paces back and forth in front of him. “I liked you, too! Things were going so well before finals, but then my best friend just… stopped talking to me. Out of nowhere. You stopped talking to me.

“We went from playing every night to hearing from you maybe once a week. I spent so long thinking I’d done something stupid to make you stop playing with me. I even bought you a new microphone, so you’d hopefully stop avoiding me!”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. Mingi always seemed so happy to play with him, yet he didn’t even consider how much cutting off contact would hurt him.

Meanwhile, the blond is still going. “Did you ever think that maybe – just maybe - I would have been understanding? I mean, sure, I was pretty mad when you spilled the coffee on me, but that can’t even compare to how mad I should be at this.”

Should be? “Are you mad?”

“Yes! No? I don’t know.” He rubs at his eyes, and when they look down at Yunho they’re still round and glassy. Oh God, he can’t do this. He can’t watch Mingi cry. After a long pause, he finally speaks again. 

“You should have told me the truth.” It almost sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than Yunho. “… I think you should go.”

“Min.”

“I just—I need some time to think, okay?”

This is it, he realizes. The exact scenario he’d been avoiding this whole time is playing out right in front of him in slow motion. Every part of himself wants to stop him, pull him closer and try to explain in a way that will somehow earn forgiveness.

But Mingi is staring down at him, fists nearly shaking, and he can’t do it. He can’t try to justify hurting him like this.

“Yeah, okay,” he whispers instead.

📝

The following month is radio silence.

It’s fine. Yunho said he’d give him space, so he will.

But it’s been a whole month, and he also feels like he’s slowly losing his mind. He checks his phone throughout the day, even when it hasn’t gone off; he rereads his last new year message over and over like it will somehow make a response magically appear; he avoids San whenever he has Wooyoung over, like a coward. 

Classes start again, so he does his best to throw himself into his assignments during the few hours of daylight he can get. It works at first. However, that undeniable ball of anxiety and nausea still follows him from classroom to classroom. 

As the weeks go by, the sting of rejection slowly dulls until it’s no longer a sharp pain in his ribs.

In the evenings, he still finds himself staring at the Valorant menu, though. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, but he can’t bring himself to start the queue for a match anymore. Okay, that’s a lie. He knows what he’s waiting for. Who he’s waiting for. But the player status below Mingi’s username is always the same when he glances at it: In Match 1. 

Honestly, it’s a little surprising. If he pays close enough attention, Yunho can feel the tendrils of jealousy forming in his chest. If Mingi is feeling well enough to play with other people, then why can’t he? Why is he stuck staring at his own player profile with disgust? He even tries smurfing again, but that just brings back thoughts of Mingi, too.

Maybe it’s because there’s some microscopic part of him that still wishes for Mingi to message him, regardless of how long it’s been. He’d even take getting screamed at. Anything other than being forgotten like he was nothing.

Even San seems to be concerned for him, judging by his worried looks. He hasn’t brought it up since New Year’s Day, when Yunho came home with bloodshot eyes and made it clear that he didn’t want to explain what happened. 

Yunho has to hand it to him, though. He’s been great at minding his own business while still being there. Whenever Wooyoung wasn’t over, he’d offer to watch a movie or make dinner together. Sometimes they’d even play a couple of games to take his mind off of things. 

That’s what makes it even more embarrassing when San looks genuinely concerned for Yunho when he tells him he’ll be gone.

“It’s just three days,” Yunho reassures as he carries a suitcase to the front door. “I’m an adult. I can survive on my own.”

“I know that.” San drops his duffle bag next to him to pull on his boots. “Sorry, I just know how much fighting sucks.”

Yunho flinches at that. Wooyoung finally found out about what happened a week after New Year’s day, and had been livid at San for not saying anything. Somehow, they’d managed to make up fairly quickly, but Yunho can still feel the guilt weighing on him over it all.

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells him. “Worry about how you’re going to carry all of this on your own.”

“It’s not that much.” 

They both take a moment to look over the two suitcases and duffle bag at their feet. Yunho raises an eyebrow.

“It’ll be fine.”

The apartment is quiet after San finally leaves. A little too quiet, so Yunho quickly turns on the TV to a random drama. It isn’t one he’s seen before, but there’s a lot of yelling between the characters, so he raises the volume to drown out his thoughts.

He doesn’t realize that he’s fallen asleep until there’s a hurried knocking at the door. At first, he rolls over to ignore it. San has his key. They double checked before he left. Whoever else it could be can come back later.

Except the knocking doesn’t stop. If anything, it gets louder, until Yunho can’t avoid it anymore. Grumbling, he throws off the blanket and pauses the drama before heading down the hall.

When he swings the door open Wooyoung, Hongjoong, and a third person with long black hair are standing in front of him. 

Yunho frowns. “Uh, San went home to visit his grandparents for the weekend.”

“We know.” Wooyoung pushes past him to enter the apartment like he owns the place. “We’re here to talk to you.”

Hongjoong is quick to follow, stopping for a moment only to take off his shoes, until it’s just Yunho and the stranger standing in the doorway. 

“Come on in,” he mutters. He gets a polite thank you in return.

By the time they reach the living room, the other two have already made themselves eerily comfortable. He glances back and forth between Wooyoung, who’s stretched out across the couch and typing on his phone, and Hongjoong, who is thankfully sitting next to him like a normal guest. 

It’s Hongjoong who looks at him. That analyzing glare has come back in full force, and Yunho can feel himself ready to break under it. He shoves his fists into his hoodie, suddenly remembering their conversation from the night everything fell apart.

“Do you like him?” It isn’t mean, but the words still cut through the silence like shattered glass.

Yunho isn’t able to hold back his scoff as he stares at the wall. “Of course I do.”

“Then do something about it.” He’s curt, like doing so will solve everyone’s problems. Like it’s that easy.

“I can’t,” Yunho frowns again. “Before I left, I told him to reach out, and he never did. Obviously, he’s not interested in seeing me.” He bitterly thinks back to every time Mingi has played without him since.

“Look,” Hongjoong slaps at Wooyoung’s legs until they leave his lap and then perches himself on the arm of the couch, motioning the stranger to come sit in his spot. “I don’t care what you have to do. I’ve spent the past week and a half watching him mope around the dorm, composing depressing songs on his laptop.”

“You’re not listening. He hates me.”

“No, you’re not listening. Do you know what it’s like to hear the same five minor chords for three days straight? Because I do, and it’s literally hell. ”

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

“You left your shirt at our place, go pick it up,” Wooyoung pipes up, still absorbed in his phone. “The plaid one. He’ll be home all weekend.”

“And how do you know he won’t slam the door in my face when I get there?”

“We don’t,” Hongjoong admits, “but you don’t know that he will either.”

And Yunho isn’t sure how to counter that. The thought of facing Mingi again, making the first move, is enough to send a chill up his spine. But if they’re right, and Mingi is just as torn up about everything as he is, maybe it could be worth it to reach out.

“Is he home today?” If he’s going to do this, he needs to as soon as possible, before any lingering doubts can pop up.

Wooyoung’s face breaks into something between a knowing smirk and a smile. Yunho hates it. “He’s home right now.”

He runs a hand through his hair before letting out a breath. “Okay. You guys need to go then, please.” 

That finally gets Wooyoung’s attention. “You’ll do it?”

“Yes, I’ll do it, but I’m not leaving three people I hardly know in my apartment while I’m gone.”

For whatever reason, the three of them only agree to leave if Yunho goes when they do. Maybe they’re making sure he doesn’t chicken out. Unfortunately for him, that means hearing commentary on his every move as he gets changed and gathers his backpack.

“Thanks,” Yunho finally mumbles as he locks the front door. When he turns to them, they look surprised. “Mingi’s lucky to have you guys.”

“That’s what meddling roommates are for.” Wooyoung grins before getting elbowed in the side by the taller one.

Yunho can’t feel his face by the time he gets to the dorm. The wet snow is freezing over his jacket, causing ice to crackle with every shift of movement. It doesn’t matter, though. None of it matters, because Mingi is opening the door after less than three knocks.

“Oh.”

He looks tired. Too tired. Yunho wants to grab his face and trace the bags under his eyes until they go away.

“Hey,” he says instead.

Mingi just nods.

“I forgot my shirt here.”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause, like he’s waiting for something else from Yunho. When he doesn’t get it, his shoulders drop and he turns away. “It’s in my room, on the dresser.”

He scrambles to follow him in before the front door shuts and quickly takes off his outer layers. The least he can do is not get snow all over his place.

“Thanks for holding onto it for me.”

“No problem.”

Mingi won’t look at him. He opens the door to his room, not even checking if Yunho is still following, and sits on the edge of his bed before nodding towards the short dresser.

Everything’s happening too quickly. He should have come up with a plan on the way here, he realizes. Now, all he can imagine is leaving with the shirt. What else is he supposed to do? Apologize again? That didn’t work last time. Breathe. He needs to breathe, or else this one opportunity is going to slip through his fingers.

He looks down at the shirt in front of him. It’s neatly folded and placed to the side. That isn’t what catches his attention, though.

“You kept them.” His hand reaches out to hover over a post-it note. At least ten of them are there, stuck to the wall behind the dresser. Yunho notices his own stupid atlas beetle in the middle.

The mattress creaks when Mingi drops back. “Of course I did. They were useful.”

Yunho looks at him over his shoulder. “You’re done with the class, though. You can get rid of them now.”

He watches Mingi shrug as he stares up at the ceiling. Are his ears getting red, or is that just his own imagination? “I didn’t want to.”

And that—That does something to Yunho. A spark, a flame, whatever you want to call it, something lights up deep in his chest. A small semblance of hope. He walks towards the bed, shirt gripped in his hand, until he’s standing in front of him. The other doesn’t move. “Mingi?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss talking to you.” Despite his efforts to seem calm and collected, it comes out as a rushed, shaky breath. “A lot.”

It feels wrong, too vulnerable, but it gets Mingi to prop himself up onto his elbows to finally look at him. That has to make it worth it.

“I’m still upset,” he sighs, “but I’d be lying if I said I don’t, too.”

There it is, that little piece of hope sprouting in him. 

“It’s okay if it’s too soon, but what if we started over? From the beginning? No more lying or hiding things.”

Yunho can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from how the other chews at his bottom lip, deep in thought, while he mulls over the offer in his head.

“… Okay,” he finally says. “From the beginning. Slowly. No lying.”

Slow works. Yunho can deal with slow. If he’s being honest, he’ll put up with almost anything just to get his friend back.

“Great,” he nods a little too eagerly. 

“Now, no offense, but could you get out?” It’s said lightly enough that Yunho barks out a laugh in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“I was sleeping when you showed up, which is something I really need to catch up on or else Joong will knock me out by force.”

Yunho nods again and tries to push away the sense of guilt at the idea of Mingi being too upset to sleep. “Yeah. Did you want to play tonight, after your nap?”

It looks like those are the magic words, because Mingi is quickly standing up to guide him out with a new fire in his eyes. “Yes! I don’t think Woo can suffer through any more games.”

“You were playing with Wooyoung?” Well, that explains the 1 that he burned into his retinas for the past month.

“Yeah, I think he was trying to help. In his own way.”

By the time Yunho gets his coat and boots on, Mingi is relaxed enough to tell him all about Wooyoung’s misplaced attempts to lift the mood in the dorm: cooking for everyone, trying out shooters, the works. 

They both pause in the doorway once Yunho has put his coat and boots back on. The question of what now? hangs in the air, neither of them sure of what level of familiarity is acceptable. 

Yunho opts for flicking his forehead, deciding to indulge in his instincts one last time before locking them away forever. “Have a good nap, princess.”

Mingi swallows, eyes wide in surprise. “Princess?”

“Because you’re sleeping beauty, obviously.”

He shoves his shoulder, and Yunho laughs as he stumbles into the hall.

This is good. Mingi said that he’s still upset about what happened, but at least now they’re talking. If starting at step one is what it takes to keep that, Yunho will force himself to ignore any other complicated feelings. He’ll take that small sprout of hope that brought him to Mingi’s room and nip it in the bud before it grows into anything more. Things will be good. They have to be.

February

Yunho thought lying to Mingi was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. 

It turns out that being around him after the fallout is much, much worse.

Yunho feels like he’s a balloon floating away. There’s nothing to tie him down to reality, to tell him what’s acceptable behavior and what’s not. Neither of them address what happened after that day when he picked up his shirt. He tries to tell himself that it’s because they’re starting with a clean slate. Still, it makes him uneasy.

It doesn’t help that Mingi is all too comfortable being friendly around him now that the ice is broken. He throws an arm around his shoulder like it’s nothing; offers him parts of his food when they eat lunch together; shoves him when he makes a particularly cringe-y joke.

The day when he finds Yunho studying in the library is the most difficult by far.

Yunho’s first mistake is wearing his headphones. Maybe if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been so surprised by Mingi’s newest form of an attack on his fragile mindset.

He feels a presence behind him, but before he can turn to look, two arms cage around him on the table.

“You busy?” Mingi’s voice barely rings over his music.

He pauses the video on his laptop and pulls the headphones down around his neck. “Not really,” he answers. It’s not a technically a lie. When Mingi doesn’t respond, he glances up to find him squinting at him accusingly.

He’s close. Way, way too close. If he were to somehow lose his balance, his lips could easily collide with Yunho’s face. All he’d have to do is tilt his head up a little more. He can feel his mouth go dry at the thought, closely followed by a wave of guilt in his gut. 

No. He will not go there. They’re friends. If Mingi had wanted to be something more, he would have said so that day in his dorm. You rightfully lost any chance of that happening.

“… Sort of. I have a quiz tomorrow,” he finally admits breathlessly, still staring up at him.

Mingi holds his gaze for another second before backing up and setting him free. Yunho lets out a heavy breath as the other pulls out a chair to sit next to him.

“Damn, I was going to ask if you wanted to do something.” He says it like Yunho would ever say no. 

“Like what?”

Mingi shrugs before unzipping his backpack and placing some books and his laptop on the table. “I don’t know, anything. My class got cancelled this afternoon so I’m free. Want me to help you study?”

“Are you sure you want to?” Yunho frowns at him. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“You spent literal months helping me study and play. Consider it me paying you back.”

“You don’t owe me anything, though. I did that because I wanted to.”

He rolls his eyes before waving his hand for Yunho to pass him his laptop. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me help you for once.”

His mouth forms a straight line as he considers it, but Mingi’s insistence quickly wears him down. “Okay, fine.”

He beams at him, turning in his chair to face Yunho with the laptop in his lap. 

It’s great that he offered to help. Really, Yunho appreciates it. It’s a double-edged sword, though, because he can’t actually take any of the information in when he’s too busy staring at Mingi’s stupid mouth. And his hands. And his eyes. Occasionally, he even has to ask Mingi to repeat himself.

The afternoon goes by excruciatingly slowly, and he only gets the answers right half the time to his own embarrassment. Eventually, he’s rubbing his eyes and letting out a sigh, cheeks puffing out from the air.

“Come on.” Mingi shuts the laptop with a click and places it back onto the table. “Let’s get something to eat.”

And that’s how Yunho ends up in a secluded corner of the unusually busy canteen with Mingi sitting across from him. 

“I think I forgive you now,” Mingi announces casually between bites. 

Yunho’s head snaps up, mouth still full of the pasta the other had insisted he try out. “Hm?”

Mingi sets down his bowl and leans back into his seat. “I thought about it for a while, but I think I’m okay now.”

He can feel his heart leap into his throat, which makes it that much harder to swallow down the noodles. “What… made you decide that?”

“I like you,” he starts. His eyes widen by just a fraction, and it’s only caught by Yunho because of how closely he’s watching him. “I like spending time with you, I mean, and I don’t want to waste that time being angry when we could just enjoy it. Enjoy this. You apologized, and I’ve decided to chalk it up to you being an idiot.”

“Hey!”

The corners of Mingi’s mouth twitch up. “If you lie to me again, though, you’re dead to me.”

“I’d deserve it.” Yunho raises his free hand, palm facing forward. “Scout’s honor. No more lying.”

“Were you even in the scouts?”

“Not important.” He turns his attention back to his meal, shoveling food into his mouth. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Mingi just scoffs at him before returning to his own food. Yunho swears he can hear him mumble something under his breath.

Yunho had expected some things to change once they started playing together again. He would be rusty after taking nearly a month off, and he knew things may feel stilted at first. However, what he hadn’t expected was for Mingi to make it his mission to nag him into using his shitty webcam. Every time they logged on, it would be the same routine. They’d join the voice call, Mingi would turn on his camera, they’d get into an in-game party, and he’d call out Yunho for not turning using his.

‘I told you, my webcam is shit.’

‘I don’t care. I want to see you.’

He couldn’t deny the way his breath hitched whenever those words rang through his headset. It was just so blatantly honest. No cares for vulnerability or coming on too strong. He wants to be on even ground, he’d try to tell himself every time. Calm down. But Yunho is a weak man with even weaker thoughts, so the moment Mingi would pout, he’d plug in the extra USB cord.

"What are you doing on Valentine’s Day?”

Yunho nearly inhales his energy drink. When he glances at the Discord call, he sees a pixelated version of himself with a flush that has risen from his neck to his face. 

 “Sorry?” He asks between coughs as he gasps for air. Way to keep things casual.

Meanwhile, Mingi is biting back a smile on his monitor. “You good?”

He coughs into his fist one, two, three times as he wills his eyes not to water. “Yeah. You were saying?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m not doing anything.” A pause. “Why? What are your plans?”

“Do you think we could hang out at your place? Joong is having Seonghwa over, and I don’t want to, uh, intrude.”

It’s okay. It’s cool. Just be normal about this. “Yeah, that’s fine. When did you want to?” There’s nothing wrong with having your friend whose dick was once in your mouth over to hang out on Valentine’s Day. 

“Awesome. Would after dinner work? I think that’s when they’ll be getting back.”

Yunho nods his head, taking another sip from his drink to clear his throat. “That sounds good.”

The win the next match, and the one after that, and after that. It’s impressive, really. Yunho isn’t doing much better than usual, but as he looks at the stats from each game, he realizes Mingi is fucking killing it. While Yunho once saved their teams from the claws of defeat, it’s now Mingi getting the aces and honors from teammates. 

“Wow,” he says after one particularly close match, “you’ve really gotten a lot better, Min.” He looks to the other monitor and sees Mingi preening dramatically.

“Now we just need to do another duel so I can show my real strengths.”

“Okay.”

Mingi immediately perks up, and it’s not without good reason. Yunho had subtly sworn off of dueling against Mingi ever since they made up. He isn’t even sure why, it just feels like a line that shouldn’t be crossed.

His brain has been categorizing everything since New Year’s as the ‘After Yunho’. To do the thing that literally started their friendship felt too close to the ‘Before Yunho’; the Yunho who lied. But Mingi forgave him, right? Surely this one time would be okay. Judging by the other’s reaction to his answer, it would be worth it.

“Really?”

“Yeah, throw us in a game.”

Before he can even blink, Yunho is staring at the character select screen and then they’re loaded onto the map.

Yunho steps out into the open area, looking for his usual target—

Only to get headshot immediately.

His jaw drops, grip on his mouse going slack. Somewhere far away, he can hear Mingi laughing. “What the fuck was that?!”

Finally, he glances over to see Mingi stretching his arm out with a finger gun, as if he’s aiming to snipe the webcam. “One shot, one kill.”

Laughter bubbles up, and Yunho really wishes Mingi was next to him so he could smack him on the head. “Wrong game, dumbass.”

“Doesn’t matter! What matters is that I finally got you.”

He tries to roll his eyes, to seem nonchalant, but there’s that itch in the back of his brain. His drive to be better. “You know you’ve headshot me before.”

“You always had a reason for losing back then, though. This time I know you don’t, because I can see you.”

“Wow,” he places a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Here I thought you wanted some quality time, but this was your plan all along.”

“No,” Mingi counters earnestly. “It’s just another good excuse to see you.”

And Yunho isn’t sure how to respond to that. His lips part in a small ‘o’, as his brain struggles to catch up. He desperately wants to take it as Mingi wanting to look at him all the time. What if he’s being biased, though? Maybe he’s reading into it too much.

Meanwhile, Mingi seems to get redder by the second. 

He clears his throat and searches for that competitive itch in hopes that it will take over completely. “Again. We’re playing on Pearl this time, though.”

That breaks the spell, and Mingi is quickly groaning about how it’s the worst map. Truthfully, Yunho hates it just as much, but it’s about the principle. If Mingi is going to rub winning in his face, he’s going to make it as agonizing as possible.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

He doesn’t need to be. It’s just Mingi and him hanging out, like they have been. Only in person. And without the textbooks. On Valentine’s Day.

So why does he nearly jump in his chair when there’s a knock at his bedroom door?

“Heading out now!” San’s voice calls through the wood. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Yunho yells out a Have fun! before he hears the front door shut loudly, and then he’s alone with his own thoughts. There’s still an hour until Mingi is supposed to show up, and Yunho would like to think that he spends that hour productively. He showers, he changes into new clothes; he tidies the living room, and then he paces, unable to sit still, in front of his computer for nearly 45 minutes.

He doesn’t even know what he’s expecting, which makes it even more unnerving. It’s not like they’ll want to study, they can’t play Valorant on one computer.

A knock at the door shakes him from his thoughts.

When he opens it, Mingi is standing in front of him with a bag of Tupperware containers in his hands. His cheeks are bitten pink from the cold, and Yunho pushes away the instinct to place his hands over them to warm them up.

“Hey!” He greets like it’s just another day, and Yunho feels even stupider for panicking. “Woo made some food earlier, so I thought I’d bring some for tonight?”

Yunho nods before stepping out of the way. “Yeah! Come in.” He takes the bag from him, the other’s gloves brushing over his hands. “I’ll go put this in the fridge.”

It’s a bit of a struggle to fit everything in – why in the world would Wooyoung make this much food – but eventually he manages. It’s not until he stands up straight that he notices Mingi standing at the other end of the kitchen watching him. 

“I brought a couple of movies.” He holds up a messenger bag and shakes it.

“Great,” Yunho guides him to the living room, relief flooding over him at the fact that he won’t have to decide what they do. “I don’t have a TV in my room, so we’ll have to watch it out here.”

Wait, shit.

“I don’t have any to play it on,” he realizes out loud.

Mingi gapes at him. “You have a thousand dollar gaming set up but you don’t own a DVD player?”

“No!” He can feel himself getting just the tiniest bit defensive. “Who uses DVDs anymore, anyway?”

When he looks over, Mingi is smiling at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He reaches out to take the cases and shoves them back in his bag. “You have a smart tv?”

Yunho nods, helpless, as Mingi picks up the remote and starts scrolling through the apps.

“I have a Netflix account, if you want?”

“Yeah, sure.”

After some bickering, they eventually decide on a low-budget sci-fi series that neither of them have seen before. Something about trains and space travel. Yunho admittedly wasn’t paying very close attention when they watched the trailer.

It’s surprisingly easy. Sure, he finds himself spacing out more than once, but between their commentary and laughing at the comically bad special effects, he’s having fun. There’s a folded blanket squished between them, forcing a respectable distance so he doesn’t even need to worry about intruding on the other’s personal space.

That all changes when he gets up to get them each a drink from the kitchen during the credits.

“No fucking way!” 

Yunho perks up, yelling across the apartment to the living room, “What?”

“There’s a sequel! We have to watch it.”

“Well, obviously.”

When he gets back, Mingi has unfolded the blanket and laid it over his lap. He lifts half of it for the other to sit down. Yunho swears he tries to keep the same amount of space between them, but when he sinks into the cushions, he’s pressed against Mingi’s side from his thigh all the way up to his shoulder.

He feels too warm. Heat is radiating off of Mingi, and – as much as he wants to lean into it – he knows he shouldn’t. 

“Yunho?”

“Yeah?”

Mingi reaches for the remote and pauses the movie. “Do you ever miss how things were last year?”

His eyebrows furrow. Where did he even get that idea from? “No, of course not.”

“I do, just once in a while.” He shifts his weight until he’s turned to face Yunho. His knee presses against Yunho’s leg where it burns through the fabric. “You used to look at me more.” His ears are getting pinker by the second.

“You want me to more?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Sometimes.”

Just like that, something in the air shifts. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s like the ceiling is pressing down, suffocating him. “Okay. I’ll look at you more, then.” The promise comes out in a single breath.

Mingi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Uh huh.” I look at you all the time, he wants to say, but bites his tongue. “Tell me and I will.” Without thinking, he places his hand on the other’s knee as if it will provide extra assurance. The movement is so smooth that he almost doesn’t notice Mingi interlacing their fingers on his knee. 

When did he get this close? Again, it’s too close. Why is he always so close now? He can see the speckles of brown in his eyes, and oh God, he wants to kiss him so fucking badly. 

He was doing so well, too. Any more-than-friendly thoughts were dealt with swiftly over the past few weeks, but now they’re all rearing their heads like a hydra. 

“I need you to tell me to stop.” It’s just a whisper. A plea for Mingi to give him the self control he so clearly lacks.

“No,” Mingi fights back, and he can feel his heart skip a beat where it thrums in his chest.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to.”

It’s different from their first kiss. It’s not frenzied or hungry. It’s slow, careful even. Mingi’s lips are so soft, and he’s tilting his head to kiss him back. He wants to push for more, but thinks better of it.

When he pulls away, Mingi is staring back at him.

“Was that okay?” For a moment, the hopeful part of him can picture the other nodding and saying yes. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he shakes his head, the smallest No escaping, and Yunho’s blood turns ice cold.

Okay, now he’s confused. Yunho is stuck, fears of finally fucking up beyond repair coming to the forefront of his mind. “No?”

“You stopped,” Mingi says somewhat sternly. “I told you not to.”

His pulse is pounding in his ears and he tilts his head forward just enough so that it rests against the other’s forehead. Closing his eyes, he takes a breath to at least try to compose himself. “Min.” God, he hates how desperate he sounds. As if the other’s answer will determine his own lifespan. “I can’t tell if you’re just fucking with me or what, but can I kiss you again or n—”

Mingi quickly renders the question useless by surging forward and closing the distance between them. It’s just for a moment, but has enough intensity behind it to make Yunho dizzy. 

“I was wrong,” he answers as he leans back. “I don’t think I can start over. I don’t want to.”

Just like that, the little sprout Yunho thought he’d tucked away deep into his chest is bursting out, tangling in his ribs, until it blooms. 

He isn’t sure how it happens, but one second Yunho is inching forward to kiss him again, and in the next, Mingi is resting his hands on his shoulders as he swings a leg over to straddle his lap. His own hands immediately fall on his thighs before feeling up to rest at the small of his waist.

The other doesn’t waste any time. He bites at his bottom lip, needy, until Yunho opens his mouth with a gasp and lets the other in. He tastes the same as before: full of strawberries and mint until it’s overpowering his ability to think clearly.

It’s too much at once. Mingi’s hands tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, his mouth trailing along his jaw, the way his eyes are squeezed shut. It’s all driving a pool of heat deep into his abdomen until his hands fumble up to fist the back of his shirt.

Mingi grinds his hips against him in one smooth motion, and Yunho can feel his brain short-circuit at the pressure. A breathy Fuck escapes, which only seems to encourage him to do it again.

“Min, please.” He isn’t even sure what he’s asking for, but it’s all he can get out between ragged breaths and Mingi’s mouth returning to his.

“Yeah?” He can hear the smirk in his voice, like he knows Yunho is putty in his hands, and that’s when he realizes how painfully obvious he must be. It doesn’t feel fair, so Yunho grabs his hips and presses them down roughly. He can hear Mingi swear under his breath. 

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he says once it looks like Mingi’s somewhat recovered from the contact.

“Hm?”

Yunho noses at his neck, breathing in that predictable cedar. “If we have sex on the couch, I’ll never be normal about San sitting on it again.”

Mingi shoves his shoulder playfully. “Who said we’re having sex?”

“Oh, no, you’re right.” Slowly, Yunho peels Mingi’s hands off of him to hold them, leaning into the cushions to put as much distance between them as he can considering their position. “Things are totally innocent right now. I definitely can’t feel how hard you are.” 

He reaches for the remote as Mingi’s lips part slightly in surprise. “In fact, let’s put the movie back on—”

It gets slapped out of his hand before he can press play.

“Yunho?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll actually be dead to me if you don’t fuck me right now.”

A smile breaks across Yunho’s face at his theatrics, unable to hold back a small laugh. “Okay.”

It doesn’t take long to get to his bed with the way Mingi drags him through the apartment. And the next thing he knows, the other is pulling him in for another kiss as he fumbles over Yunho’s belt. It’s like he’s on a mission, and the sight sends a chill up Yunho’s spine.

They get down to their boxers, and Yunho can’t wait anymore. He urges Mingi onto the bed, closely following until he’s on him.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Min,” he mutters down at him. He’s said it before but it’s the truth. From his sharp eyes to his pouty lips to the way he sighs as Yunho leaves wet kisses along his collarbone. It’s no fucking wonder he spent all of that time secretly wishing for him to turn his webcam on.

His hands roam down his chest, over his stomach until they reach the narrowest part of his waist. Does Yunho have a waist thing now? He never did before. Maybe he just has a Mingi thing. Yeah, that would make sense.

One hand trails lower and lower until his fingertips reach the waistband of his boxers and Mingi shudders underneath him. “Can I?”

“You better,” he tries to joke, but it’s quickly cut off by a shaky exhale while Yunho grips around him. It feels familiar in the best way possible, and he leaves a quick kiss on his forehead before reaching over to his bedside table for what they’ll need.

He unceremoniously tosses both the lube and condom to the side of the bed once they’re retrieved. “Did you want me to—”

“Yeah.” Mingi cuts him off before he can finish with a quick nod. “Is that okay with you?”

Yunho nods back a little too eagerly for comfort. “Whatever you want.”

The answer changes something in the way Mingi looks at him. He’s a bit softer than when they were on the couch, a bit more loving. Yunho instinctively reaches out to cup his face with one hand, his thumb swiping across his cheekbone before he lowers himself between his legs.

Mingi instinctively lifts his hips and tears off his boxers, while Yunho gets a sufficient amount of lube on his fingers. He takes a moment to warm it, but wastes no time before taking Mingi into his mouth. 

It’s easier this time, now that he knows what to expect. Slowly, he gets into a rhythm while bobbing his head. His tongue swirls around the head before he sinks down farther. He can hear rushed breaths coming from above him. The sound fills his ears, and it feels like he’s underwater. Finally, he remembers to slowly trace around Mingi’s rim, giving him plenty of warning. A hand threads through his hair to pull lightly, drawing a moan from deep in Yunho’s throat, and he takes it as an invitation to go further.

He pushes in slowly, giving Mingi time to adjust, until he’s just past the first knuckle. There’s a string of spit when his mouth pulls off of him.

“Everything okay?”

Mingi nods, breathless and flushed. In a moment, he’s grabbing Yunho’s face and pulling him up to kiss him deeply. “More than okay,” he mutters, eyes only half open. “Don’t stop.”

Yunho nods, leaning his forehead against Mingi’s as he slowly pulls out before pushing back in. He vaguely registers that the other’s hands are fisting the comforter. Fuck, he looks so pretty. Eventually, he adds another finger, slowly picking up a rhythm. He can hear whines escape from Mingi as he bites his lip.

He crooks his fingers just slightly, and suddenly Mingi is arching into him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, letting his head sink back into the pillow. “R-right there.”

He does it again, and again, until Mingi is trying to fuck himself on Yunho’s fingers under him. The sounds make Yunho dizzy, and he can only reason that all the blood has left his brain to rush to his own painfully hard cock. 

He nuzzles into Mingi’s neck and closes his eyes. Trying to take everything in, he leaves little nips just under his jawline until he reaches his ear.“Do you think you’re ready?” He feels ready, but he wants to be certain.

Mingi frantically nods, and Yunho forces himself to sit back on his heels so he can get the condom out. 

He does his best to go slowly, to give Mingi time to adjust, but he’s so tight that Yunho has to take a deep breath through his nose to compose himself. He can feel his own stomach tightening with every second that he looks down at him spread out under him. The same words flood his mind over and over again: pretty, sharp, soft, princess, pretty, Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. But Mingi is impatient and tries to shift himself to urge more of Yunho in.

Finally, finally, he feels safe enough to begin pulling out before thrusting back in. He can hear a startled noise from Mingi, and the next thing he knows, he’s picking up to a steady pace, chasing those sounds for as long as he can.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Min. So, so good,” he rushes out. That pressure in him is rising again, threatening him. Frantically, he reaches down and starts to stroke Mingi’s cock in time with his thrusts.

It doesn’t take long for Mingi to finish. His nails dig into Yunho’s back in a way that will definitely leave traces behind for the next few days, and Yunho follows soon after. There are marks littering Mingi’s neck when he pulls away, so he guesses they’re even.

After they catch their breath, he ties off the condom and gets up to dispose of it, grabbing a towel from his closet on the way back.

Mingi’s stomach is shaking with each exhale. His arm is draped over his eyes until Yunho is gently pulling it back to his side. “You alright?”

He finally opens his eyes, taking a second before smiling at Yunho. “I’m great, you?”

“More than great.”

Mingi lightly hits him. “You don’t have to one-up me in everything, okay?”

Carefully, he wipes Mingi off with the towel before tossing it next to his laundry basket. As soon as it hits the floor, Mingi is on his side, facing him with warm cheeks. He reaches out to brush Yunho’s hair off of his sweaty forehead.

“So, there’s only one question now.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Which one of us is the eboy?”

Yunho smiles into the kiss he gives him. “You, obviously. I’m the gamer girl.”

March

“You know, I think I’ve given you too much power,” Yunho says as he shuts the door to his room with his elbow. “One might say I’ve created a monster.”

He can see Mingi’s silhouette in the gaming chair as he clicks furiously. Walking over, he places the cider beside the keyboard.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Mingi laughs through his nose, not looking away from the screen in front of him. 

Yunho sighs with a little more drama than necessary before leaning down and resting his chin on Mingi’s shoulder to look at the monitor. “How are your stats?”

“Could be worse.” The match ends, and he finally turns his head until their noses brush. He smiles a little too mischieviously. “Could be your stats.”

Yunho rolls his eyes before leaning in to kiss him. Just as the other tilts his head to deepen it, though, he pulls away. His chest tightens when he hears a small whine come from Mingi in protest. “You need to remember your roots, Min.”

“Maybe you should remind me.”

A loud laugh bubbles up out of Yunho before he can stop himself. His cheeks hurt from grinning, and he thinks it might be the best feeling in the world. Still, he shoves his shoulder before backing away. “You’re so fucking cheesy.”

Now Mingi’s laughing, too, his ears turning that great shade of pink as he gets out of the chair. “Fine, then. Duel me. Kick my ass.”

He pretends to think about it. “Tempting, but no.”

“Why not?”

Yunho swears he can see a slight pout on the other’s face, and suddenly wonders if the offer was serious. However, it leaves as soon as it appeared and Mingi makes his way onto the bed next to Yunho. 

“I have other things I’d rather do with you.”

The next thing he knows, Mingi is rolling over until he’s hovering over Yunho on the mattress, his thighs straddling his hips. The sight is all too familiar, and for a split second, Yunho remembers the first time they were like this.

“Min?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re being honest with each other, right?”

His eyebrows furrow above him. “Yeah, why?”

This is it. His chance. 

“… Would you still play Valorant with me if I was a worm?”

Surprisingly, there’s zero hesitation in Mingi’s response. “Of course. If you were a worm, then that would mean that I’m a worm, too.”

“Wow. That’s true love right there.”

“I’m going to be even more honest now, okay?” Mingi waits until Yunho nods before lowering himself to whisper in his ear. “Please don’t talk to me about worms when I’m trying to fuck you.”

“Deal.” Yunho nods again. “Thanks for the honesty.”

Mingi grins down at him, clearly barely holding it together as well, before he leans in for a searing kiss. “Anytime, Yu.”