Chapter Text
“Over here, Mr Song,” Mingi barely manages to fix his face into an acceptable expression before the flash of the camera renders him blind for a few seconds, “Amazing!” The photographer beams, “Ms Lee, the camera simply loves you,”
Next to Mingi, Hana preens at the compliment. He spares her a small glance, takes note of her glittery, champagne colored gown and swept up hair, her flushed cheeks and her lips stained in her usual coral tint. Pretty.
Then again, she’s always been pretty.
“Mr Song, please lean into her more,” The photographer continues, “Maybe put a hand on her waist – that’s it,” Hana slips her fingers in between Mingi’s own, the band of the huge solitaire diamond ring on her finger cold to the touch.
She turns her head to smile up at him, and he returns it with one of his own.
Staring at her too long always gives Mingi the sensation of his heart falling with a thud somewhere around his feet, but he doesn’t mind so much anymore.
He begins to imagine what would happen if one of the other guests just milling about steps on his heart with the bottom of their expensive, Italian leather shoes, as they strutted and peacocked about in all their finery, and has to restrain himself from laughing.
Because it wouldn’t change a thing.
The camera flashes.
“Thank you Mr Song, Ms Lee,” The photographer, a smaller man with an impressive set of pearly whites and dyed orange hair, smiles for them both after taking his final shot, tucking his camera away for the time being.
“No. Thank you!” Hana untangles herself from Mingi, walking to the photographer without another look in his direction, “May I see the photos? We’ll have to choose one for the media, and I would like to make sure the right one is picked,”
The photographer agrees, whisking Hana away to his little setup just outside the main ballroom, specifying how he needs to show her the photos on his computer so she can really pick up on the details.
Before she goes, Hana glances back at him to say, “Mingi, I’ll just be back there, okay? Go mingle without me for a while,” and waits for him to reply. He nods. She seems satisfied with that, smiling for him as she leaves.
And then Mingi’s left alone, standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor.
With no plans to mingle whatsoever now that he’s been given a reprieve, Mingi excuses himself from the few who try to make small talk with him and makes a beeline for the bar instead, oozing himself into the nearest bar stool.
He sighs in relief as he rests his elbows on the long table, but immediately remembers where he is and straightens himself once more.
He just wishes for the whole thing to be over.
“Hey, what can I get you?” The bartender walks over to him.
He shrugs, not really focusing on the man as his eyes sweep across the room, “What do you have?”
“All the usual spirits and accompanying mixers, both tap and bottled beers, champagne with cut strawberries for the ladies –
“Cool, give me one of those,” Mingi answers absentmindedly, before rushing with a very tacked on, “Please,”
He knows the right answer is two fingers of some kind of premium whiskey poured neat or on the rocks, like his father taught him, but Mingi has never been the best drinker.
And he needs his wits about him if he’s to survive that night.
The bartender says nothing as he starts to pour champagne into a chilled flute. He adds the strawberries with a scoop and slides the finished drink over the counter to Mingi, who’s still a little distracted, “Enjoy your drink,”
Mingi swivels back around to say thank you, his usual smile in place, but it drops from his face when he actually sees the bartender.
He stiffens, sure his eyes are wide, as the bartender’s familiar face starts firing off unwanted images in his brain that he’s buried years ago.
Oh no, not today.
The man in front of him raises an eyebrow at first. Then, when it doesn’t end, his customer service smile slips from his face and he starts to fidget with the buttons of his waistcoat.
Mingi’s sure he’s making him uncomfortable.
He wrenches his gaze away, blinking rapidly as he clears his throat, “Thank you,”
“Don’t worry about it. Enjoy your drink,”
He forces a smile on his face, turns back around and manages to say, “Thanks, I will,” all while focusing at some point on the man’s forehead.
The bartender nods and walks away, picking up a rag to wipe down glasses at the other end of the bar. Mingi watches him go from the corner of his eye.
He can see the differences now. The bartender is shorter, sturdier, with two small silver dots in his ears where no earring holes should be. His lips are thicker, eyes wider.
Pretty handsome, just like the person he resembles, and yet not him at all, now that Mingi’s really looking.
It’s those subtle differences that finally manages to draw his eyes away, as he takes regard of his drink instead.
The drink is pretty, just like his fiancée.
Mingi lifts the flute and takes a sip.
It’s nice, fruity. He fishes out a strawberry piece and slips it into his mouth, taking his time to chew.
It tastes just like any other strawberry, sweet and tart as it slides down his tongue.
Yet, coupled with his surprise over the bartender, it makes something in Mingi ache, his memories dragging him away from the claustrophobic confines of his current location and back to his school days.
Mingi sees him just as he puts the tube of lip balm directly to his lips, carefully applying the red-tinted wax all over.
He walks over and sits down next to him, purposefully jostling his careful application with a grin.
Yunho frowns, his hand stilling as he puts his attention on Mingi, watching as he pulls his heavy jacket closer to himself and wets his dry lips with his tongue.
The walk to their meeting place was long and cold, after all, “Gosh, Mingki, your lips are all chapped,”
Mingi sputters, both at the name and at the slight, “No they’re not. And don’t call me Mingki,”
Yunho chuckles, “Princess, then,”
“Yun…” Mingi says with a pained sigh.
“Min,” Yunho laughs back.
“I’m not a princess! I’m a manly man, as you can see!” Mingi stretches out his arms and flexes, his large coat and beanie flopping around him. He’s sure he doesn’t really exude the manly man aura he’s trying to portray, but it doesn’t hurt to try, “I don’t even own lip balm, like most men,”
Yunho snorts inelegantly at that, his hand moving again as he finishes the application of his lip balm, “Dumbass. Chapped lips are bad for all genders,” he ends with a flourish, recapping his balm and waving it in Mingi’s face, “I, for example, would never leave home without this. I get really cracked lips in winter,”
Mingi rolls his eyes as he swipes the tube from his best friend’s hand to inspect it further, “Whatever. Is this a new one? Why is it pink and glittery?” He sniffs it, “Also it’s scented?”
His best friend merely shrugs, “I just bought it. Strawberry flavored and scented. It also has a slight tint. Life’s too short for plain lip balm,” He eyes Mingi, “Wait, let me put some on you, for the greater good,”
Mingi would have sputtered and disagreed, but then Yunho had scooted closer to him, the smell of manufactured strawberry palpable between them, so he shuts his mouth instead.
He doesn’t say anything when Yunho takes the lip balm from his hands and uncaps it, wiggling his eyebrow at Mingi before putting the waxy end closer to his lips.
Yunho’s tongue juts out the side of his mouth as he starts to trace the lip balm on Mingi’s lips with careful precision.
Time seems to stutter to a stop as he watches spellbound, following Yunho’s soft movements, all previous conversation forgotten as he puts his attention on his best friend and the waxy substance he can feel coating his lips.
His stomach starts to do circus level somersaults.
“Now mash your lips together, come on Min,”
Mingi does just that, enjoying a little of the balm’s artificial sweetness as it hits his tongue.
It tastes nothing like an actual strawberry, but it’s sweet nonetheless.
A thought comes unbidden in his mind then, asking him if Yunho would taste sweet too, and he has to immediately reprimand his brain for conjuring something so forbidden this close to its subject.
He clears his throat and scoots a little farther away, muttering thanks.
“See? Doesn’t that feel much better?” Yunho smiles. His lips are shiny and red, and Mingi knows his own must look the same now too.
It feels kind of…intimate.
He swallows, “You do know we just indirectly kissed, right?”
Yunho just shrugs again, uncapping his balm and applying a bit more around the center of his pout, popping his lips together for effect, “No, it’s not. A kiss is a kiss, this is just two friends making use of the same lip balm,”
Arguing with Yunho about anything always leads to Mingi losing, so he doesn’t answer. He changes the subject instead, “So, what do we do now?”
“I don’t know, but let’s go Princess, we’ll figure it out,”
Mingi shoves at his friend, who laughs, “Don’t call me Princess!”
Four years later, when Yunho does kiss him for real, he tastes the strawberry again.
He darts out his tongue and traces his best friend’s lips, chasing that sweet taste, making Yunho shiver around him.
Then he ruins the moment by saying, “You know what, you’re right. Sharing lip balm is definitely not kissing,”
It makes Yunho laugh in that beautiful open way he does, his hand covering his mouth, “If you say so, Princess,”
Mingi retaliates by pulling Yunho back in by the collar, kissing him again.
Mingi’s jostled out of his daydream by a very abrupt clearing of the throat. His father gives him a searing look, and then looks down at the champagne flute in his hand. “Where’s your fiancée?”
He waves in the general direction she’s gone with the photographer, “Went somewhere with the photographer to choose media shots or something,”
Then he turns away and lifts the flute to his lips, emptying its contents in one go.
But he leaves the strawberries.
“Mingi, can you last even one night without trying to embarrass me?” His father says, hand tight around his own glass of premium whiskey.
Mingi raises an eyebrow, “Father, may I ask how it is that I’m embarrassing you this fine evening? I was simply sitting here drinking when you unceremoniously walked over,”
His father doesn’t answer, just calls for the bartender with a snap of his fingers and barks out an order for another glass of some imported limited batch whiskey.
He takes the order when it is presented and slides the glass harshly towards Mingi.
The amber liquid sloshes against the crystal.
“Take that, then go mingle like you’re supposed to. The Jungs just came in,” his father continues, not waiting for a reply before he walks away.
Mingi sighs, wanting to just drop his head into his arms and call it a night.
But, remembering that the Jungs arriving most likely means that Wooyoung’s now probably there too, gets up from his seat to go be a good Song like he’s supposed to.
The bartender, probably a younger man with baby fat still clinging to his cheeks, gives him a lopsided smile as he goes.
He returns the smile, wanting to apologize for his father’s rude behavior, but refrains from it as he walks away.
Mingi hears Wooyoung before he sees him, unsurprised when he finds the shorter man in an animated conversation with another chaebol’s son, as well as a handsome, well-built man in a nicely cut suit.
He’s not very familiar with either, but he approved both their invitations, nonetheless. It was his only contribution to this whole thing.
He slips in next to Wooyoung, who pauses the conversation to beam up at him, “Mangi-ya, hi! First of all, congrats,”
Mingi snorts, taking a swig of his drink. He tamps down the shiver at the sharp taste.
Wooyoung chuckles, then waves with a flourish towards his companions, “Anyway, let me introduce you to Yeosang and San,”
Yeosang, who he knows is the son of a hotelier, looks in his direction with a placid half-smile on his face. Unlike him, San beams, “Nice to finally meet you, Mingi-ssi,”
He makes sure he smiles back, lest he embarrasses his father again, “Likewise,”
Wooyoung smiles, “My parents are around here somewhere,” he hooks an arm around Mingi’s, “But I hope you’ll stay here and talk to us instead,”
His voice lowers into a whisper, Mingi leans in, “They’re especially boring today, now that they’ve landed their newest acquisition deal,”
Mingi shivers, because no, he doesn’t have the mental acuity for that conversation, “Thanks for the heads up,”
Wooyoung winks in his direction before turning back to his companions, continuing to talk in that animated way he does.
The conversation is mostly shallow. The weather. Some tennis match Mingi isn’t privy to. The latest Balenciaga sneakers Wooyoung’s been lusting over.
Then Yeosang pauses the conversation by saying, “Actually, do you mind continuing this in the balcony, by any chance? I’d like to smoke for a bit,”
San doesn’t smoke, but agrees. Wooyoung does too.
Mingi shakes his head, “I—I don’t smoke…” he pauses to consider his choices – either continue to talk with people he at least tolerate (like very much, in Wooyoung’s case), or throw himself back to the proverbial wolves – and sighs when he realizes that there was never a choice in the first place, “I can accompany you though, I do need some fresh air,”
It is San who giggles at the irony as they make their way to the huge double doors that lead to the balcony.
Yeosang gives Mingi a look when they get outside, staying a little back from Wooyoung and San as they walk directly to the marble railing, whispering in hushed voices.
The soft breeze picks up strands of his companion’s dyed blonde hair as he fishes his pocket for his smokes. They gently wave around his face like a halo.
In front of them, the vast grounds of the Song Mansion stretch far into the distance.
“Sorry,” Yeosang starts, taking a cigarette from his pack and slotting it between his lips, before lighting the end with a cheap plastic lighter, “I don’t usually smoke, but the energy in there is…weird. Sorry, thanks for inviting me, um,”
Mingi waves it off, “Don’t be sorry. It is weird,” he watches as Yeosang takes a drag, the lighted tip glowing orange in the near darkness.
And falls into the rabbit hole again.
Mingi frowns at the sight of Yunho, lit cigarette between his lips, sitting at their usual spot once they’ve reached university, “Yun, what are you doing?”
Yunho has the gall to look sheepish, taking one last drag and crushing the remaining embers beneath his sneaker, “You’re early,” He mutters, “Anyway, it’s just…something I picked up somewhere, don’t worry about it,”
“Don’t worry about it?” Mingi can’t help but raise his voice, “Lung cancer, Yun! You don’t want that, do you?”
Yunho shrugs, but all he says is, “It’s been a bad couple of days, okay Min? I just needed to blow off some steam, literally,” he looks so down in the dumps that Mingi bites back the remaining part of his spiel, choosing instead to take a seat next to his…(boyfriend?) and clutch both of his hands.
“We’ll revisit the smoking thing later,” Mingi starts, making Yunho squirm, “Now though, tell me what’s wrong,”
Yunho’s still squirming, trying to dislodge Mingi’s grip on his hands. Mingi rolls his eyes at him and just pulls Yunho closer, locking his boyfriend’s hands in place between his own.
“Nothing! Seriously, it’s nothing Min, don’t worry about it,”
Mingi replies by gently threading their fingers together and squeezing in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.
Yunho sighs, a drawn out, pained sound that rings uncomfortably in his ears. Yunho’s always so peppy, so happy.
“It’s really nothing…” Yunho tries again, his long fingers curving around Mingi’s before squeezing back.
Mingi slides in even closer, until there’s mere inches between them, making sure to keep their fingers tangled, “Yun, you look like a kicked puppy. Please tell me what’s wrong? Is it school? Is someone there bothering you, because you know we can—
“It’s nothing to do with school, Min, promise…” Yunho answers immediately.
“Then what?” Mingi frowns, “I hate seeing you sad. What made you sad? We can fix it, whatever it is,”
One last sigh, and then Yunho spills, “My mom told me some gossip from home when I called her this weekend. Your parents are starting to field potential partners, and I — that made me sad, okay?”
Mingi should comfort his boyfriend, he should, but at present he’s too busy wiping his jaw off the floor, “What?”
Yunho frowns at him, untangling one of his own hands to push at Mingi’s chin until his mouth closes, “Your parents are looking for your future wife,”
Suddenly a cigarette doesn’t sound so bad, “But I just turned twenty! I just finalized my major. I’m not —
Yunho just smiles at him sadly, “Better to plan now, right? You’re the only son of Song Bonhwa. You’re going to lead someday, and that means having a wife by your side,”
Mingi’s fingers tighten on Yunho’s as his mind reels from all the new information, “But…but I don’t want to,”
“Min —
“I love you, though…” Mingi hurries on, failing to see Yunho’s eyes widen at his bold statement, “I don’t want to marry some random girl,”
“You — Yunho stills, his eyes wide as he looks at Mingi, “You love me?”
Mingi opens his mouth to answer, runs the question through his mind, then snaps his mouth shut. Shit, did he say that out loud? “Did I say that out loud?”
“You did, but that’s not the most pressing part,” Yunho turns towards him until they’re both facing each other, “Mingi, did you mean it?”
“I — Mingi pauses. He loves Yunho, he does, but in light of the current situation, it doesn’t seem like the best course of action to scream out his feelings.
He can’t hurt Yunho, he just can’t.
Then he watches as the light in his boyfriend’s eyes dim, his smile disappearing from his face, and Mingi realizes that he’s already hurting him like the ass he is.
He steels his stomach, cursing the butterflies in them that are making him feel all fluttery.
“I do…” He manages to say quietly, his voice barely floating above the din of the side street around Yunho’s dorms they’re currently huddled in.
Yunho snorts sadly, “Why the pause then?”
“Because I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you,” Mingi says, rubbing his thumb around Yunho’s knuckles, “I love you so much, and everything that’s happening right now is just going to be painful for both of us if I admit my feelings, but Yun, I really do,”
He wants to wipe the frown from Yunho’s face. He wants to march up to his father and throw any plans of engagement out the window. He wants so many things, but most of all —
He puts a gentle hand behind Yunho’s nape, feeling the short hairs there under his fingertips, as he waits for the other to agree. Then he pulls him in and kisses him.
Yunho tastes like smoke and the usual manufactured strawberries as his tongue darts out to trace at Mingi’s lips until he parts them for him.
His fingers also have that cigarette after-smell as they wind around Mingi’s neck, disappearing up his hair.
Yunho pulls himself even closer until he’s halfway on Mingi’s lap, like he can’t bear even the smallest space between them.
Mingi’s gotten better at this, he likes to think, as he angles his head to better fit their joined lips.
A swipe of his tongue within Yunho’s mouth sends him into a tizzy, the sounds he’s making like music to Mingi’s ears.
When they part, they’re both flushed, breaths heavy as they stare at each other.
And then Mingi says, “I’m not going to marry anyone if I can’t marry you,”
Yunho smiles, but he looks unconvinced, “You don’t mean that…”
“I do though, wait for me to finish college and I’ll show you,” Mingi pokes at his side, “So you better stop all that smoking because we’re going be together until we’re ninety-five,”
That elicits a chuckle out of Yunho, who covers his mouth with a hand, “Ninety-five? Won’t you be bored of me by then?” Mingi just shrugs at him with a smile, marveling at how easy it is to make him laugh.
Then Yunho reaches into his pocket for his pack of smokes and crushes the whole thing in his fist, giving it to Mingi right after, “Here, I didn’t enjoy it that much anyway,”
Mingi wrinkles his nose, taking the crumpled pack and throwing it in the nearest bin.
When he returns, he grasps Yunho’s hands again, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, and I’m not bored yet. What makes you think that will change now that I love you and will probably do until we’re ninety-five?”
He rubs the spaces between Yunho’s fingers with his own absentmindedly, the reality that he’s told the boy he loves that he loves him finally hitting him.
Which makes him start giggling like a maniac, “Oh god, I said I love you,”
Yunho’s whole face pinks as he drops his head onto Mingi’s shoulder with a small squeak. The smell of smoke is finally dissipating. “You’re such a sap,”
Mingi still has the stupid grin all over his face, he’s sure, as he bumps his shoulder against Yunho’s. He laughs when the other sputters, “You’re an ass, you know that? You didn’t even say it back,”
Yunho snorts, the tips of his ears red, but his hand squeezes Mingi’s, “I love you too, and I like the idea of being together until we’re ninety-five,”
Mingi’s heart soars as he leans in and presses his lips to his boyfriend’s forehead. The area deepens from pink to red, as does every other part of Yunho’s face.
Like a damn strawberry.
Mingi starts to guffaw, his whole body shaking as he winds an arm around Yunho, “You look like a boiled tomato and I’m the sap?”
“Hey!”
They can worry about the engagement later.
Because he’s just told Yunho he loves him, and Yunho’s just said it back.
“Mingi-ssi?” Yeosang has a hand around his shoulder, the familiar smell of cigarette clinging to his fingers and now Mingi’s jacket, most likely.
He shakes himself out of his stupor, answering Yeosang with a very eloquent, “Huh?”
“You blanked out on me a bit there,” Yeosang frowns, “Are you okay?”
Mingi glances towards where Wooyoung and San are still in the middle of their own conversation, having seemingly missed the whole exchange.
He turns back to Yeosang, who shakes his head, “No one saw but me, since we were talking, but are you okay?”
He removes his hand from Mingi’s shoulder, muttering a quiet apology for being all up in his personal space. Mingi waves it away and reassures him by saying, “Yeah. Sorry, just one of those days, you know? Big day and all that,”
He smiles for the blonde when he accepts Mingi’s explanation with a mere nod, not asking for an elaboration.
“Thanks, Yeosang-ssi, by the way,”
Yeosang shrugs and smiles back at him, “Don’t mention it,”
He inches towards Wooyoung and San, motioning for Mingi to follow.
Mingi doesn’t follow.
He needs a minute, some time to return the memories that have been spilling out to the forefront of his mind, back into the box he’s shoved them into.
Mingi waves for Wooyoung’s attention and points to the double doors, stepping back into the party when his friend simply nods.
Away. He needs to get away.
His vision clears when Hana steps right in his view, “Mingi, where were you?”
Fuck.
He shrugs and points to the balcony, “Took a breather with Wooyoung and some of his friends,”
Hana slips a hand around his elbow and guides him away, back to the center of attention amongst a hundred of their ‘closest friends’.
She takes the mostly full glass of whiskey from his hand and deposits it onto a waiting server’s tray without a backwards glance.
“A breather, you mean you were smoking?” Hana looks at him, disappointment etched all over her face.
Mingi shakes his head, “I don’t really smoke. Just accompanied the guys since we were talking,”
Hana leads them to the dance floor, guides his arm around her tiny waist, “You know, I still don’t like Wooyoung and I don’t really understand why you keep hanging out with him. I don’t really like his friends either,”
Mingi’s brow furrows, previous dilemma forgotten as he frowns at his future wife, “Still? I’ve known Woo since college, he’s harmless,”
Hana shrugs, “I overheard from a few of my own friends, you know Sunhee and Misun, that they’re dating – all three of them. I wonder if their families know,”
Mingi raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t know, but he’s not surprised.
Mr and Mrs. Jung might be bores who mostly only talk about business and/or golfing (or ceramic cat figurines, in Mrs. Jung’s case), but they seem to have accepted their son’s proclivities early on. “I didn’t know. The Jungs haven’t mentioned anything either,” is all he replies, “But why would it matter? Wooyoung’s own company has already outpaced his parents’ with the profits they’re making. He’s a capable adult who doesn’t really need anyone’s approval,”
Hana’s face twists into disgust.
“Still, so unnatural, don’t you think?” She shakes her head, nudging him to lead the dance. He does, “They’re not the kind of friends we should keep, once we’re married. Business acquaintances sure, but not friends,” she smiles up at him, “Hope you’ll agree,”
Her fingers are splayed on his shoulder, the diamond glinting on her finger.
Over her shoulder, Mingi can just make out the imposing figure of his father, watching over them like a hawk, swirling his own whiskey glass in one hand.
Mingi’s eyes widen as a set of photographs are dropped on his desk.
He’s at his apartment, the one his parents have leased for him just ten minutes away from the college he’s chosen.
The one Yunho outright refused to share with him, choosing instead to stay at the dorms.
He’s there now, at said cramped students’ quarters, waiting for Mingi to come so they could study together for upcoming midterms, even though they don’t go to the same university.
Mingi looks up at his father with furrowed brows, regards his blotchy, red face and absolutely furious expression detachedly, almost like a third-party observer.
Why is he not surprised that they have their own key?
“Explain this to me,” his father says in a low voice, pointing at the photographs.
He looks away from his father, inspecting the photos, and his breath hitches.
They’re all photos of him and Yunho — talking, laughing, playing bowling that one time they went on a date, out drinking, and — Mingi’s eyes widen as he finds photo after photo of him and Yunho in various stages of kissing.
There’s one with Yunho’s arms around him as he usually has, a few with Mingi clutching the front of Yunho’s shirt, which always makes his boyfriend upset, and yet not upset enough to stop him from doing it, and so much more.
There are pictures of a standing Mingi leaning over to kiss a sitting Yunho on his forehead in a hidden alcove in the public library, Yunho giving his cheek a quick smack for luck before bowling a strike, the two of them lip locked in quiet areas that have little foot traffic, or so they thought.
Mingi looks back at his father in horror.
“My butler’s son…” His father tsks, shaking his head, “I had a feeling something like this would’ve happened eventually, the more you two became inseparable, but your mother insisted. Your son doesn’t have many friends, he’s too awkward around new people,” His father sneers, “Are you not ashamed of yourself?”
The tone he takes jostles Mingi from his shock. He shakes his head, “I’m not. Yunho’s wonderful, I love him,”
His voice doesn’t waver. Good.
Song Bonhwa guffaws, but it’s without any joy and all about mocking Mingi, making his son grit his teeth. “Love? What do you know about love?” The smile disappears from his father’s face as he stares down at Mingi with menacing eyes, “Alright then, you love him? Break up with him,”
Mingi’s jaw drops, but he shakes his head, “I will not!”
His heart starts to race. No.
Everything’s happening too fast. They had a plan. A plan to finish college first, then make it on their own without any interference from their respective families, and finally, tell said families about them in the future on their own terms.
How naive they both were, Mingi thinks now, because neither of them has ever accounted for his father finding out first.
He continues with, “I can’t believe you! You had me followed, and now you have the gall to tell me to break up with my boyfriend? The answer is no, father,”
His father merely shrugs, picking off imaginary lint from his immaculately cut suit. He looks like he’s won, which churns in Mingi’s gut, “Of course I had you followed. You’re my son,” He smirks, “You say you love him, and yet you won’t break up with him? Shows how serious you are about all this,”
“That doesn’t even make any sense,”
His father’s smirk doesn’t let up, “It does if you consider his future. You know his father works for me,”
“And?” Mingi challenges, “That doesn’t seem like they should be related at all,”
“Seongho has been a faithful employee to me all these years,” He grins, “But I will not hesitate to put him and his whole family, including your precious Yunho, out on the streets if it means not having you embarrass me,”
That shuts Mingi up.
He stares, wide eyed, at the man he’s looked up to his whole life, incredulous that his father would resort to such underhanded tactics.
Disbelieving that the man cares more about the embarrassment than that of his own son, “You wouldn’t,”
“I would. Seongho’s boy is on partial scholarship,” His father says calmly, “Seongho pays the rest. If you don’t agree to break up with him, Yunho would have to drop out and find some grunt work to help pay the bills. And of course, there’s the matter of his younger brother, poor child,”
Mingi grits his teeth, knowing he’s been won. Yunho thinks the world of his family, and he especially adores Kyungho.
He looks up at his father, seeing the man for who he is for the first time, not the romanticized version of him most children have of their parents growing up, “Why can’t you just let me be happy?”
“You don’t need the butler’s boy to be happy.” Bonhwa waves him away, “This is just you experimenting in your youth, merely a footnote in what will be the rest of your life,”
Yunho has never felt like a footnote to Mingi.
He’s everything, the universe and all the stars, the axis on which Mingi’s world revolves, just how he likes it.
His heart constricts, his eyes tighten, only the stubborn will not to show weakness in front of his father keeping him from breaking down into a million tiny pieces. He swallows, finally bites out, “Fine. But I get to do it on my terms,”
“I don’t care how you do it,” his father replies, looking a lot more pleasant now that he’s gotten his way, “Just that you do,”
“How long do I have?”
Bonhwa walks to Mingi’s small collection of liquors (honestly it came with the apartment) and opens a sealed bottle of whiskey, pouring it in a glass and taking a sip.
Finally he answers, “A week,” He pours the alcohol into another glass and places it into Mingi’s numb hands. Mingi almost drops it, “You meet with potential fiancées in a month,”
A week.
He has a week.
Mingi wishes he could cry, but he doesn’t, just puts the rim of the glass to his lips and drinks the whiskey in his hand in one gulp.
Mingi gently tears himself away from Hana, who frowns at him with disapproval, “Mingi —
“Just give me a minute, alright?” He moves past her, making his way to the entrance of the grand hall, only to run into his father right outside.
His father fumes, “Where do you think you’re going? Get back to your fiancée and finish the dance,”
He looks behind him, finding Hana just standing there talking to her friends, before turning back to his father.
Mingi shakes his head, “I need a minute, father, just let me —
“No. You know what the stakes are, now go back to the dance and —
“Excuse me…” They both look away from their heated glares at each other to regard the newcomer, the same photographer with the orange hair and colorful suit from earlier.
From his periphery, he could see his father huff in annoyance, but it doesn’t seem as if the photographer cares in the slightest as he provides them with his customer service smile, all business efficiency and no time for personal, familial, antics.
“May I borrow Mr. Song the younger for an hour?”
When his father answers, it is gruff with disapproval, “As you can see, he’s in the middle of dancing with his fiancée, so if you’d excuse us —
“Oh, I have her approval to do so,” the photographer smirks, “I would like to take some photos of Mr. Song in his childhood room for the series, if that’s possible,”
Mingi blinks. Childhood photos? In his room?
His father grits his teeth, “Mr —
“Kim,” The photographer grins, showing off his impressive pearly whites, “It’s Kim Hongjoong,”
“Well, Mr Kim Hongjoong,” His father continues, “Why is there any need for those kinds of photos, when his bride-to-be’s not even from around here?”
Kim Hongjoong must be the devil himself because he looks unfazed in the presence of the great Song Bonhwa.
He shrugs his left shoulder nonchalantly, the busy pattern on his suit seemingly following his movements, “Something about seeing where their love story all began, apparently. She told me she was planning to hire a local photographer to take the same photos of her in her room when she returns there, but that’s above my paygrade so I didn’t ask for an elaboration,”
He taps a manicured finger on the rim of his camera lens, waiting for Mingi’s father to reply, and that’s when Mingi notices the chipped black polish on it.
Polished nails in the presence of industry giants and politicians?
Bold. Very bold.
His father seems to have been looking at them as well, because when he peers up at the shorter man’s face, his eyes are narrower, “Are you really the photographer we hired for tonight?”
Kim Hongjoong raises a neatly trimmed eyebrow, “Yes sir, I have the contract if you want it,”
Mingi assumed that his father would press harder, but he simply waves it away, “That won’t be necessary. As you can see I have guests,” He turns to Mingi, “Go then, we will continue this later,”
Mingi doesn’t wait, just wills his feet to walk towards the photographer before standing behind him.
He dwarfs over the considerably smaller man, but that wouldn’t be so apparent if you saw them at the moment, not with how big and enigmatic the other man’s aura seems to be, and how small he feels in the presence of his father.
Kim Hongjoong’s smile widens as he bows with a flourish, “Thank you sir, we won’t be long,”
And then he spins on his heel, motions for Mingi to follow him, and they both walk all the way out of the grand ballroom.
They cross the main foyer. Hongjoong doesn’t say a word until they are at the banister of one of the two main staircases, “So…your room?”
He sounds like he’s barely concealing anger. Considering how much more jovial he was earlier with Hana and with his father, the change is somewhat jarring, but Mingi says nothing as he points to the second floor.
“It’s uh,” Mingi starts the climb towards the second floor landing, “It’s at the farthest left corner of the second floor,”
Hongjoong simply nods, walking behind him wordlessly as they trek the mansion to Mingi’s childhood bedroom.
It’s the same room he took Yunho to, that first time they met when they were kids, back when Yunho’s father brought him over to work one day over the summer break.
Apparently, his mother had been sick and they had no nanny at the time.
He was supposed to wait in his dad’s office, but he’d gotten bored and started exploring instead, running right into Mingi where he was hiding from his tutor.
Their parents must have thought it cute back then, seeing the two boys become friends so quickly, so Yunho started coming over more.
And when he could, Mingi would go to him instead.
By the time they were in highschool, enrolled in different schools, the routine to meet somewhere in the middle to have lunch together had become second nature.
It’s a sweet, nostalgic memory, as are a lot of their younger moments spent in his room, and so unlike the last time he was in there, which pierces through Mingi’s heart so painfully it feels physical.
Mingi swipes his room’s keycard to the little bed and breakfast he’s booked for the occasion.
They are at Haeundae Beach in Busan, just the two of them, after he invited Yunho to spend the weekend with him on a romantic getaway – or, at least, as romantic as he could take it without alerting the whole world towards his inclination for tall, bright, and handsome men, or maybe just Yunho.
By all accounts, he could have booked them a suite in a five-star resort, one right next to the beach with a private deck and in-house butler service.
It’s as simple as providing his ID as Song Bonhwa’s son, and his daddy’s credit card.
But he scrapped that idea. If he has to break up with the best thing that’s ever happened to him, he’ll do it on his own, with money he scrounged for himself by doing assignments for his classmates.
The lock clicks and the door opens.
He looks back at Yunho, who has a megawatt smile on his face and big starry eyes, and finds that he can’t help but smile back despite the lump in his throat. The mood is infectious, after all.
Mingi decides to open the door dramatically, eliciting a chuckle from his boyfriend, before stepping into the cramped room.
It’s small, with a queen-sized bed in the middle and not much space in between.
There’s a window that opens to the street, and across it Mingi could just make out the beach in the distance.
And that’s about it.
The bathroom is even more cramped, fitted with probably the smallest bathtub in existence and an even smaller toilet seat.
But it’s clean, and smells nice, and really that’s all he could ask for. More importantly, the noona at the reception desk didn’t bat an eye when she registered them in.
His stomach begins to knot as he glances at his boyfriend, watching him take the two steps it takes in every direction to inspect every last thing in the room.
Should he have booked the suite, treated them both to the princess lifestyle Yunho has always joked about?
Then Yunho smiles as he flops down the bed, his long arms sweeping all the pillows closer to him. He chuckles to himself, eyes finding Mingi, “This is so cute!”
Mingi lets out a huge sigh of relief, “Not too small?”
Yunho giggles, “It is, but we can just cuddle,” he pats the space next to him, and when Mingi doesn’t comply, drags him down by the arm until he’s lying on his back, enveloped in Yunho’s wingspan and sandwiched in between pillows.
Oh god, it’s small.
But it’s nice. He sighs in contentment as he basks in the comfort of being in Yunho’s arms.
Though they’ve been dating for a while now, they haven’t spent much time like this, with no deadlines looming over their heads (except the most important one, but Mingi’s not focused on that) and time to just spend in each other’s arms.
Not when Yunho shares his dorm room with three other people, and he’s always been hesitant to go to Mingi’s apartment, which Mingi now absolutely understands.
Wanting to see his boyfriend better, Mingi shuffles with some effort until he’s on his side, removing the pillows separating them.
Mingi snakes an arm around Yunho’s waist, lifting his head to press a kiss to Yunho’s lips, “I love you,” he says, which still makes his stomach flutter.
He wonders if that will ever end, and then quietly agrees that it may very well not.
Yunho grins, “Love you too,”
When Yunho dives in for Mingi’s lips, coaxing him to part them by licking at the seam and then immediately proceeding to explore the inside of his mouth with his tongue, Mingi lets himself get swept away.
He kisses Yunho back with equal fervor, licking, moaning, nipping against his boyfriend’s mouth and sucking on his lower lip, winding his arms tighter around his waist.
At some point they shift positions, Mingi pinning Yunho beneath him, his lips sliding from their slotted mouths to Yunho’s jaw, the back of his ear, then down the line of his neck.
Yunho has his arms wound around Mingi’s neck, pulling Mingi closer to him, his fingers tangled in his hair as he egged him on.
Mingi runs a hand down Yunho’s sides and hitches his sweatshirt up, feeling the hot bare skin of his torso under his fingers.
It makes Yunho moan, in turn making him lose all coherent thought as he makes it his life’s mission to hear that again.
He knows where this is going, knows it’s a bad idea, and yet can’t find it in himself to stop.
And then Yunho slips a hand down the front of his trousers, caressing his length through his boxers with long fingers. Mingi just about loses it.
But he doesn’t. He groans, making to move off, Yunho immediately whining under him and pulling him back down.
Mingi fights back the urge to just give in to his baser desires, pushing himself off his boyfriend and rolling away to lie on his back, catching his breath.
He turns to see Yunho pouting at him. Mingi chuckles, poking at his boyfriend’s cheek.
Yunho scoffs, “Why’d you stop?”
‘Because I’m going to break up with you and having sex with you first is the most dickish way I can go about it’, he wants to say, he should say, but he doesn’t. He really doesn’t want to think about it.
He smoothens the furrow in between Yunho’s brows with his thumb and chuckles again, “Because you said you wanted to walk around and eat first, remember? We should go do that now, I’m hungry,” He bats his lashes and puts on the most over dramatic pout on his face, “Mingki wants cake and tteokbokki, Yunnie,”
Yunho rolls his eyes as he quite literally wipes the expression off of Mingi’s face with his palm, “Never beating the princess allegations, you are,”
Mingi laughs, “Did you just mix Yoda voice and a twitter meme reference?”
“Shut up,” Yunho says, his hand swiping at Mingi, “Fine. Give me a moment to calm down then we’ll go,”
He can’t help it as his eyes drop to the front of Yunho’s black sweatpants, which look strained and just a little tented.
Yunho starts to take longer breaths to calm himself, pulling his sweatshirt back down to cover up his exposed chest with a sigh.
All mirth forgotten, Mingi swallows down the moan trying to leave his lips and turns to his side to fix his own situation.
They don’t talk about what almost happened in their room, even as they crowd out of the small door and make their way back into the beautiful sunshine.
They don’t talk about it when they walk around the beach, feet bare and hands full of cheap snacks from the nearest convenience store, or when Yunho ends up chasing him and dragging him deeper into the water, getting his trousers soaked to his calves while he sputters indignantly.
They don’t talk about it as they playfully argue about where to have dinner, Yunho putting his foot down and dragging Mingi to the expensive barbeque spot he’s found on his phone, then growling at him when he tries to pay.
Or when they order a few bottles of soju and wash it all down with beer, laughing while walking back to their hotel like a couple of lovestruck idiots.
Mingi’s thoughts are so full of Yunho, Yunho, Yunho, as he admires him do the most mundane things like they’re life-changing discoveries.
He’s so far gone for Yunho that it’s a little terrifying, but then he sees the way Yunho looks back at him, lingering stares that are fonder than fond, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and it makes him feel a little better.
He’s honestly forgotten all about sex, or his deadline, or much of anything really, except for making Yunho laugh and smile and shine brighter than the sun on a hot summer’s day, so when Yunho tugs Mingi by their clasped hands in the corridor on the way back to their hotel room, catching Mingi’s face with his free hand, his muddled brain has to take a second to understand what’s happening.
And then all thoughts fly out the window when Yunho presses his lips to Mingi’s, encouraging him with his tongue to part his lips so Yunho could gain access to his mouth.
It’s messy, wet, and hot, taking Mingi a few minutes to find the feeling in his hands and grab at Yunho’s sweatshirt to press himself closer, all inhibitions forgotten as he focuses on feeling.
They barely make it back to their room, to the bed, before Yunho is pulling at the hem of Mingi’s sweater to remove it.
He falls back first onto the mattress, clawing at Yunho’s sweater until the taller boy removes it as well, giving Mingi an eyeful of creamy skin, dark nipples, and a soft stomach.
And then Yunho pounces on him like a man on a mission, not letting up to give Mingi a second to breathe, to assess, to talk himself out of the horrible situation he’s about to place them both in, again.
It’s not perfect. Yunho, in his hurry, slips off the mattress when he tries to brace his knee against the edge of the bed, Mingi lunging for him before bursting out laughing at the bewildered look on his face.
There are issues about where their hands should go, where their bodies should turn, the perpetually unsexy learning curve everyone has to go through before the actual sex.
But then the awkwardness melts away, into overflowing words of love and affection, into tender caresses and heated skin, once they both find their rhythm and fall naturally into each other.
When Yunho kisses him later while systematically pulling him apart at the seams, his father is the last thing on his mind.
When Yunho’s lips and tongue and hands leave a trail of heat down his body, as he begs and moans and pleads beneath him, tugging on his boyfriend’s hair, there is no other deadline in the world except for him finding their release.
And when he finally finds that release, scratching at his boyfriend’s back with blunt nails as a shock of pain and pleasure simultaneously overwhelms and grounds him, Yunho’s body solid and warm and alive above him and his equally affected voice like music to Mingi’s ears, there is no one else in the world but the two of them.
Just Yunho and Mingi in their small bed and breakfast away from the rest of the world.
They fall into bed afterwards, a sweaty but sated puddle of tangled limbs.
Unfortunately, the bliss doesn’t last.
Mingi blinks as Yunho nuzzles his nose onto his shoulder, the reasons he’s had for trying so hard not to have sex in the first place all crashing back down on him in one go, making him face the dire reality of the situation.
They’re both stark naked, bodies curved into each other, Yunho’s arm thrown around his waist and his own hand tangled in his boyfriend’s hair.
He swallows.
The urge to ignore his deadline, to simply bask in the afterglow, to forget, almost wins out.
But then Yunho places a soft kiss to his shoulder blade and that makes his stomach turn. He starts to sob, removing himself from Yunho’s arms and getting to his feet. He has to get away.
Mingi gets up, doesn’t even reach for clothes, just runs to the bathroom and locks the door.
He sobs, the reality of what he’s done overwhelming his mind.
When he hears Yunho ask for him, then start knocking at the door a little while later, it seems to be coming from far, far away, “Min? Min, what’s wrong?”
He shakes his head, doesn’t answer, just braces his hands on the small counter as he tries to regulate his breathing.
“Mingi?” Another knock, Yunho’s voice just a little under hysterical, “Mingi, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry, please come out, please talk to me,”
It’s the way Yunho thinks that he’s hurt Mingi somehow that finally prompts him to push himself off the bathroom counter and unlock the door to the bathroom.
His eyes find the still very naked torso of his boyfriend, the marks he’s left on Yunho’s body along his collarbones and chest a mocking reminder to him of how weak he is.
Yunho looks regretful as he takes one sweep at Mingi with his eyes before looking away, handing him his clothes.
Mingi doesn’t lock back the door, just puts them on while Yunho stands still in front of him.
He takes Yunho’s hand and leads him back into the room, pulling him down to sit on the bed.
Yunho’s still looking away.
He takes a deep breath, tries to commit everything about Yunho to memory, because he’s sure it will all be over after this. But first things first, “You didn’t hurt me Yun, don’t say that,”
Yunho turns to him, eyes glassy, “I must have done something wrong for you to just up and lock yourself in there like that. I’m sorry, I know you already disagreed about the sex once, but I –
Mingi’s next words take longer to come out, “I – I’m not like this because I didn’t want to do what we just did. I wanted it too, Yun, wanted it so badly that I actually fucked up,” His stomach churns, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I did,”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Min, I’m –
“My father knows about us,” He finally blurts out, cutting Yunho off again. He glances at his boyfriend, whose mouth has snapped shut, his eyes wide as the statement begins to make sense in his mind, “He knows, and he’s ordered me to end it…”
Tears start to gather at his lids as the secret that’s been rotting away at his insides for the whole week finally rises to the surface, “I invited you here to break up with you, Yun, so no, you’re not the asshole, I am,”
“You’re…” Yunho blinks, “You’re breaking up with me?”
He nods, tears away his gaze from Yunho, because he can’t bear to see the broken expression he knows would be on his face. “I am. I’m meeting with potential partners in a month,”
The silence, once so comforting and familiar between them, now hangs heavy in the small room.
“I knew it,” came the very late reply, almost a minute later. The tone of voice Yunho uses makes a shiver run down Mingi’s spine with how cold it sounds. Because Yunho always sounds warm, at least when he’s talking to Mingi, even when they’re fighting.
He turns back, eyes widening when he sees Yunho pulling his sweatshirt back on. “What do you mean, you knew it?”
Yunho turns to him, his eyes hard, though they glisten with unshed tears, “I knew all of this would happen,” he gets up and walks to his duffle bag, starts dropping things in it, “Really shitty way of going about it though, Princess,”
He spits out princess like a slur. It turns Mingi’s gut.
“Yun, I —
“Tell me one thing though, Mingi,” Yunho faces him, “Did you even fight for me — for us?” At the end, his voice crumbles, the anger he’s been trying so hard to keep up suddenly washing off of him in waves. He sobs, his hands coming up to angrily swipe at the torrent of tears that’s begun to slip out the corners of his eyes, “Fucking hell,”
He throws his duffle bag to the floor, slumps down onto the bed.
Mingi finally finds the feeling in his limbs to walk around the bed to try and comfort him, slipping an arm around Yunho’s shoulders. His…ex-boyfriend… shrugs it off, “Don’t — please don’t touch me, just tell me. Did you fight for me? Did you even try?”
He did. Of course he did. But he doesn’t want Yunho to know any of that. Not his father threatening Yunho’s entire family. Not his father sending someone to follow them for almost an entire year.
He doesn’t want Yunho to know, because then he’ll know just how fucked up Mingi’s family — and by extension, he — actually is. Also this can never, ever, ever get back to Mr. Jeong, Yunho’s dad, “I tried —
He winces when Yunho pins him with a watery glare.
“But there’s nothing to fight about. He’s had us from the start. The consequences were just too…difficult to even consider,”
“You mean the money,” Yunho’s still sobbing, though his voice has begun to harden again, “Can’t say goodbye to the princess lifestyle and all that,”
“Yun, you know that’s not —
His ex just shakes his head, getting up, “I have to go,”
“Yun, please —
“Mingi, please don’t call me that! It’s Yunho! Call me Yunho,” Yunho screams at him.
That shuts Mingi up. He finds himself frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but watch Yunho gather the last of his things and shove them back into his bag.
It’s almost midnight.
He leaps up from the bed when Yunho has already made it to the door, “Yun — ho, wait,”
Mingi grabs his arm just before he can leave. He closes the door, watches Yunho’s expression shutter, “Mingi, just let go. Please just let me go,”
“It — it’s midnight. You should stay here for the night. I…” he swallows down any sob that might leave his lips, “I won’t touch you. I won’t stop you, not when morning comes. I promise, Yunho,”
Calling him Yunho tastes like sawdust on Mingi’s tongue. It sounds wrong. It’s all wrong.
He takes the bag and slips it off of Yunho’s shoulders, drops it onto the nearest surface. He tugs Yunho back into the room, drags him down the bed.
Yunho’s strangely compliant, though his face looks like he’s about to burst into tears at any given moment.
“Just — just sleep here for tonight,” Mingi all but pleads as he removes Yunho’s shoes, reaching out to close the lights before adjusting the blanket until it covers Yunho to the neck, trying not to touch any part of him.
Yunho stares up at him.
Then he starts to sob, “I love you so much. So, so, so much. Doesn’t that mean anything to you, Mingi?”
His face loses its edge. His eyes widen as he pleads. He’s pleading. Yunho is begging Mingi to choose him.
He touches Mingi’s cheek, “Don’t do this to me. Please, Mingi. I love you,”
Mingi feels wetness well in the corners of his own eyes. He swipes at them with the back of his hand.
He finds himself dropping right in front of Yunho, sobbing as he places a soft kiss on his forehead, “It means everything to me. I love you too,” he almost loses his resolve, “But I’m sorry,”
Yunho’s breath catches. Then he turns away and covers his face with the blanket as he cries in earnest.
Mingi gets up and rounds the bed. He lays down but faces away as he tries not to hear the sobbing. As he tries to compartmentalise. To forget that he’s ever loved Yunho.
After hours of staring at the opposite wall, he finally falls asleep.
When he wakes in a fit just a few hours later, the bed next to him is already empty.
Yunho’s gone.