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When his Friday evening is disturbed momentarily by the sound of the doorbell, Mingyu glances at the figure inside the video intercom and he knows exactly who he is going to find waiting impatiently on the other side of the apartment door.
He yanks open the door as the little bird bursts out of the novelty clock in the hallway to cuckoo the time. It seems right that Minghao should arrive on the dot, even for a visit he did not bother to arrange. He’s always been punctual.
The sound of the clock interrupts whatever greeting Minghao had planned to make, his mouth hanging open and empty before he snaps it shut, annoyed. Mingyu clutches the doorknob tighter as reluctant desire grips him with intensity that is unexpected. Even after a year of being apart and the heartache of their break-up, his body betrays him by still being finely attuned to the presence of the damned Xu Minghao.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Mingyu lies. He’s been expecting Minghao ever since he saw the grainy pictures in Naver, announcing Ex Seventeen Member Turned Model THE8’s Return to Seoul.
“Still as bad of a liar as ever.” Minghao scans Mingyu up and down, the warmth behind his eyes unmistakable. He holds up a brown paper bag. “I brought wine.”
“I don’t feel like drinking.” Mingyu lets him in anyway.
Minghao shrugs off his blazer and hangs it next to Mingyu’s coat, revealing a silky pastel blue patterned shirt. The heels of his boots tap smartly against the wooden floor as he takes it off, striding past Mingyu in slim-fitting pants, heading for the kitchen.
Xu Minghao in all his 179cm glory looks like he’s going for an expensive dinner, not dropping in on a former lover unannounced.
“You look good. Different.” He goes straight for the cabinets, as if he still has the right to treat Mingyu’s home as his own. He’s elegant, unruffled, and quite at ease, despite having turned up uninvited. He paused, giving Mingyu a half smile.
“Guess you catch me on a good day.” Mingyu runs a hand over his nape awkwardly. His stomach twists. “Are you back for good?”
“Yes.” Minghao turns back to the cabinets and rummages around for two glasses. “Open the wine, will you?”
Mingyu searches for the cork in the cabinet opposite Minghao. It only takes a second, which gives him the opportunity to look at Minghao properly while his back is still turned. It would have been nice if he’s got a bad haircut or lost his good looks in Beijing, but he’s every bit handsome as he’s always been. If anything, the last year served him well. The realisation that he still finds Minghao mouth-wateringly attractive, after everything, makes Mingyu ache dully.
Minghao reaches for the top shelf putting every line and curve of his body on display. The thin material of his shirt exposes the light muscles of his back and his black pants stretch taut across his backside, hugging his slender frame in all the right places. It takes a monumental effort for Mingyu to stay put. All he wants to do is move close enough to grab Minghao’s hips and pull his ass against Mingyu’s body as he’s done countless times before.
Mingyu’s ability to be around Minghao without thinking about sex doesn’t appear to have gone away either, despite their time apart.
Annoyed with himself, Mingyu pushes those thoughts firmly to one side. No matter how confusing this conflicting rush of unexpected emotion might be, he’s not going down that road again. Xu Minghao is nothing but trouble.
“What part of –I don’t feel like drinking— don’t you understand?” Mingyu takes a sip anyway, when Minghao hands him a generous glass. It’s not bad, as wine goes.
“This is the good stuff.” Minghao studies the bottle with a frown, before moving it to one side. He looks around the room, a strange expression on his face. “You finished the kitchen.”
“Unlike some people, I don’t like to leave things unfinished.” Mingyu can’t be bothered to make small talk about interior design when he’s monumentally pissed off.
A flush of anger pinches Minghao’s face, his lips pursing as if he’s swallowed something bitter. The silence drapes over them and stretches until the hiss of water hitting the hob reminds Mingyu that he was supposed to be cooking dinner. He grabs the bubbling pot and removes it from the heat quickly, muttering strings of curses under his breath. The pasta is swollen and soggy and the starchy water has left brown marks on top of the stove. Without a word to Minghao, Mingyu chucks the pasta into dustbin as Minghao shifts irritably in his periphery.
“Am I supposed to stand around admiring your new deco all night?” Minghao asks, breaking the silence.
“Would you prefer to see what I’ve done with the bedroom?” Mingyu’s being a dick, but it’s no less than Minghao deserves.
Minghao’s lips clamp into a thin line and he glares at Mingyu. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Probably not, but you were always going to, let’s be honest.” Mingyu tries not to let his anger get the better of him but it’s difficult. “Come on. We might as well get this over with.”
He leads the way back into the hall, opening the door to the warm living room. He’s spent so long getting his home exactly the way he wants it; painting, wallpapering and carpeting away the past. Having Minghao here is more invasive than expected. Mingyu doesn’t want to look at his nice new sofa and be reminded of an awkward conversation with his ex. He spent too long choosing new furnishings to get rid of every trace of him.
Mingyu takes the armchair, not wanting to sit closer than necessary. In the past it would have been difficult to put any space between them and now that’s all there is. Seeing Minghao on his sofa brings the memory of their first time surging into Mingyu’s mind with unstoppable force. He can almost taste the breathy kisses and feel the press and curve of Minghao’s smile against his skin. It felt as though they had all the time in the world to explore one another, sticky, sweaty and sweet. When they were just starting out it was so good between them.
“Why are you here?” Mingyu asks. The memories fade away like echoes.
Minghao doesn’t respond immediately. He looks around instead, taking in the room and seeming to focus on anywhere but Mingyu. His gaze lingers on the small coffee table, where there used to be a picture from a get together of Mingyu, Minghao, and the other members of Seventeen and a group of other people from Pledis. You can’t put couples’ photographs when you’re having a secret relationship, after all. The picture was the best one of them Mingyu had, and he doesn’t even have that now, having thrown it into the fireplace in a moment of anger during the first, furious month of Minghao’s radio silence after Seventeen’s disbandment. He regretted it almost immediately, but it was too late. The photograph burned, curled and turned to ash before he could pick it out with a pair of tongs.
“Our other friends are busy. Cheol, Jeonghan, and Jisoo are doing radio show. Wonwoo and Soonyoung are vlogging. Jihoon’s producing as always. Junhui’s in Hong Kong. Seokmin and Seungkwan are shooting variety. Hansol and Chan are outta the country right now.” Minghao answers Mingyu’s question at last. “Only you have a free schedule.”
Mingyu fights back a clipped response. Minghao says friend. While that is true that they are friends, it doesn’t sit right with Mingyu when he and Minghao have been many things that are not platonic once upon a time. He was all too aware of the underlying spark of attraction that made his relationship with Minghao very different to his relationship with their other friends.
“What makes you think you still have me?” Mingyu watches Minghao’s face twitch in a familiar pattern of surprise, hurt, and then controlled neutrality. “Sorry,” he says, averting his eyes. “That wasn’t very nice.”
Minghao nods slowly and sips his wine. The sight is torture, the wet press of his lips, the muscles of his throat working, the way his bony fingers hold the glass. Mingyu bites at the inside of his cheek.
“I used to be so terrified whenever I thought about you.” Minghao breaks the silence, his voice thin. “I’m pretty intimidating when I want to be.” Mingyu tries to lighten the mood, but it falls flat. He remembers how scared Minghao was, and why. It hurts to think about it, so he tries not to anymore. “And now?”
“Now I don’t think about you at all,” Minghao replies.
//
It’s midnight when Mingyu’s woken by hail hammering against his bedroom window. He’s always loved a storm so he opens the curtains to look outside. As he watches the hailstorm bounce off the pavement, he notices the shadowy figure pacing at the lobby of his apartment.
Cursing under his breath, he searches around for his phone and attempts to dial Minghao’s number.
It’s typical of Minghao to skulk around outside feeling sorry for himself without plucking up the courage to go up Mingyu’s floor and press the doorbell. He had plenty of opportunity to talk to Mingyu properly earlier, but instead he stayed for barely an hour, leaving when he’d polished off the last of his expensive wine. In keeping with the rest of the evening he didn’t have much to say for himself, walking out of the door with a snide thanks for the hospitality, Mingyu.
The visit seemed so pointless, devoid of any real emotion. They’d made small talk about everything from Mingyu’s new cooking show to the Pledis’ new boy group, skirting around anything important and filling the gaps in the conversation with uncomfortable, protracted silences. By the time the evening came to an abrupt close, Mingyu hadn’t asked a single one of the questions racing through his head and Minghao hadn’t volunteered any answers.
Mingyu makes his way to his door, putting on his night robe with an aggravated huff, annoyed with Minghao being for being a dickhead and annoyed with himself for the tingle of anticipation that shivers across his skin. He pulls open the door to find Minghao already outside, arms wrapped around his skinny frame.
“I should’ve brought just chicken and beer, I know you would’ve preferred that.”
“It’s fine.” Mingyu waves him in, despite knowing the smarter choice would be to tell him to take a cab to the hotel. “You used to say fried chicken isn’t healthy anyway.”
Minghao steps inside, taking off his boots and socks as if he’s going to be sticking around. Mingyu sighs and closes the door. Minghao glances up at the sound and his unexpected vulnerable expression makes Mingyu’s chest tight.
“I used to say a lot of things,” Minghao murmurs. His gaze sweeps across Mingyu’s face before travelling lower. It would be so easy to step forward, to trace the line of Minghao’s jaw and urge his mouth closer.
“Yeah, you did.” Mingyu gulps and shakes away the image burning his brain. He tightens the loose knot keeping his sleep robe fastened, wishing he’d bothered to put on pants. It’s just like Minghao to make everything topsy-turvy, turning up for a second go at this when Mingyu isn’t even properly dressed.
“It didn’t go well earlier.” Minghao stands and straightens, thankfully back to eye-level as opposed to the decidedly more distracting cock-level. “I’m not sure dragging me out of bed at midnight is going to make it go any better,” Mingyu points out. He has a feeling he’s going to need to sleep all weekend after tonight, the whiplash of emotions already exhausting. “You’re lucky it’s Friday, otherwise I’d have left you there.”
Mingyu makes his way into the kitchen and puts on the kettle. Based on their earlier disastrous attempt at conversation, Mingyu wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he never heard from Xu Minghao again. But then, he wasn’t that surprised to find him shivering from cold in front of his door either. Things are never simple when it comes to Minghao.
Minghao doesn’t respond, watching Mingyu make tea without asking if he can have some. Mingyu makes him one anyway, shoving it across the counter hard enough that some of the liquid spills over the rim. A tiny splash of milk, two sugars. Strong and sweet, just how Minghao likes it.
Minghao sips his tea and a knowing smile curls at the corner of his mouth. “You remembered exactly how I like it.”
Mingyu tries to ignore the fierce yearning that grips him at the implication behind Minghao’s words. He remembers every bit of it. The hot flavour of sweet tea kisses, tugging off clothes inside the locked practice room at the company because they couldn’t wait long enough to go to the dorm. The ache of wanting Minghao burns through him, leaving him restless.
“It’s just a cup of tea. It’s not exactly complicated.” Mingyu grips the counter with his free hand, determined to stay exactly where he is. “You’ve only been gone a year.”
Eleven months and twenty-something days to be precise. Not that Mingyu’s counting.
“I—“
Mingyu cuts Minghao off before he can finish his sentence. “I want you to get whatever you want to say off your chest and then you can fuck off and let me go back to bed.”
“When did you become such a dickhead?” Minghao replies, pink spots arising on his cheekbones and his lips narrow.
“Yeah, a year changes people a lot, you know. You would have known if you stayed.” Mingyu sighs bitterly.
“Okay. Stop treating being bitchy like it’s a personality trait.” Comments like that are par for the course with Minghao. They don’t make Mingyu angry, not anymore, they just make him sad and tired. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“No.” Minghao cracks a humourless smile at Mingyu, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “You’re going to make this difficult for the both of us, aren’t you?”
“What did you expect me to do?” The anger returns. “A few hours ago, you were pretending not to give a fuck about me and making stupid comments about Pledis. The next thing I know you’re moping in front of my apartment like a lost puppy, now you’ve got the audacity to tell me I’m the dickhead.”
“That’s not what I came here to tell you.” Minghao doesn’t sound certain, a sharp note of anger beneath his expensive tone. “Like I said, you’re the only friend with free—“
“Are you serious?” Mingyu stares at Minghao, who meets his gaze with defiance. “We aren’t friends, Minghao. Friends don’t do the things we did.”
“Well that’s clear enough.” Minghao’s voice turns icy.
“Shut up!” Mingyu’s anger gathers inside his chest, the rage leaves him breathless. “Don’t twist it around. That’s not what it was. Don’t call me your friend when you only labelled us as that because you were a fucking coward.”
“I didn’t force you into anything,” Minghao snaps. “Everything we did, you wanted.”
“I didn’t want to hide, I never wanted that.” The fury rolls off Mingyu, crashing him in waves. “I hated sneaking around our own members, distancing myself from you in interviews because you were afraid you might slip off this hetero facade of yours.”
“I was always happy being close to you,” Minghao murmurs, his voice rough. “I was closer to you than anyone else in my life. I’ve never been like that with someone—“
“I know all that. I haven’t just forgotten.” Mingyu makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. It was Minghao’s first time with another man, his first real relationship—if you could call it that. They talked about it at the start, speaking in whispers between kisses as they slowly undressed and explored. “The fact it was new to you isn’t an excuse. It’s not like I’d been out and proud before you either.”
“But you knew who you were,” Minghao replies. His voice is terse and clipped. “Everyone knew. You had time to understand it. I still didn’t know that I was—”
“Gay?” It doesn’t escape Mingyu’s attention that Minghao stops before finishing his sentence. He shakes his head, sadness overwhelming him. “It’s just you and me, Minghao. No one’s around, the walls don’t have ears. The fact you still can’t say it out loud shows nothing’s changed.”
“I had to redecorate my whole damn house after you left because you were on every single surface, in every room. We fucked in every one of them. Was I your friend—were you straight—when I was inside you?” Mingyu bites out some more. He sinks into a dining chair, dropping his head into his hands. His shoulders heave as he swallows back the surge of emotion that makes him want to cry.
“It all got so complicated.” Minghao sighs, sitting heavily back in his seat.
“I was in love with you, Minghao.”
“You never said.” Minghao’s eyes widen and his voice wavers, a splash of pink rising in his cheeks. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Because you left before I could. Pretty glad I didn’t to be honest. I’d have felt like even more of a fool when you fucked off to Beijing right after we disbanded.” Mingyu breathes out through his teeth, looking back down at the floor. His anger dissipates and he’s left sad and deflated. “Have you said everything you wanted to?”
“I haven’t even started.” Minghao’s voice lowers. “I was in love with you too.”
Minghao’s revelation should make Mingyu feel happy, but it doesn’t. It just makes him even more confused because people who love one another don’t just leave without saying goodbye.
“I wish you hadn’t come back,” Mingyu whispers to the still room. “Why couldn’t you just stay away?”
The words are hollow and false, no matter how much he wishes they were true.
//
“I’m gay,” Minghao begins. “If that’s what you need to hear from me.”
“It’s a start.” Mingyu glances at Minghao. “Is that what sent you running off to Beijing?”
“No. But I had my reasons.” Minghao’s expression turns wistful. “I went back, to tell my parents about me, and about you, and about us.”
A jolt of surprise and confusion leaves Mingyu momentarily dumbstruck. “But the whole reason we couldn’t tell anyone about us was because you didn’t want your parents to find out.”
Minghao’s parents had been nothing but nice to Mingyu, he knows they adore him, like their own son— and that’s where they draw the line. They see him as a son of their own, not their own son’s lover.
“We argued about telling people, all the time. I was convinced you would leave me for someone easier, without my complications.”
“I’d never have forced you to come out to your parents or told people without your permission.” Mingyu winces, realising in his hot-headed moments he probably hasn’t handled things as well as he might. He does tend to be impatient. “I just wanted you to tell my friends we were together. My friends. I hated keeping secrets from them.”
“But that’s how it begins, isn’t it?” Minghao turns, leaning against the windowsill and contemplating Mingyu. “You tell Eunwoo and Jungkook because you trust them. Eunwoo tells Jaehyun because there’s no way he’s going to talk. Jaehyun tells Yugyeom, then BamBam finds out. They tell their members, who tell their friends and eventually everything’s out there and everyone knows.”
“I’ve trusted Jungkook and Eunwoo
with bigger secrets than that.” Mingyu frowns at Minghao. “They would never have told anyone, not if I made it clear it couldn’t get back to your parents. I trust them with my life.”
“But it doesn’t matter anymore now. I won’t do this again with you.” Mingyu continues to lie.
“I should leave.” Minghao appears in the kitchen doorway, because of course he can’t give Mingyu room to breathe. Of course. “It’s late.”
“Nearly one in the morning.” Mingyu turns to find Minghao standing so close it sends a pulse of lust through his body. “Did you really come here to talk?”
“Yes, of course.” Minghao nods in an attempt at innocence, but the hunger in his expression says otherwise.
“Liar.” Mingyu moves towards Minghao, crowding into his space until he’s backed against the kitchen counter. “You didn’t just come here for conversation.”
“Maybe not.” Minghao’s eyes flash in challenge. “I also came because I was hoping you might fuck me. But you already know that.”
Mingyu’s breath catches in his throat and he presses against Minghao. “Shameless, are we?”
“I don’t think so, Mingyu.” Minghao traces one long finger down Mingyu’s chest, his voice low. “I’ve noticed how you’ve been looking at me since I arrived. Don’t play dumb now.”
“I hated you, the whole time you were gone,” Mingyu breathes. He leans in until his lips almost touch Minghao’s. “I hated you for leaving.”
Instead of replying, Minghao closes the distance between them. His expensive shirt slides under Mingyu’s fingers, his body taut and firm. Their mouths slant together, their lips opening to one another. The familiar sensation of Minghao’s touch is like coming home. He trails his fingers over Mingyu’s back and down, clutching onto his t-shirt and hauling him as close as possible. Mingyu goes willingly, pushing against him and catching his mouth in another searing kiss. Mingyu’s always loved kissing Minghao and now he can’t get enough of the heat of his mouth, the slick warmth of his tongue. It reminds him of the time they would spend working one another up with filthy promises and long, lazy kisses until it became impossible to hold back any longer.
With a muffled groan, Mingyu deepens the kiss, his head swimming with the taste and scent of Minghao. He gives as good as he gets, his hands twisted into Mingyu’s t-shirt and his mouth wet and eager. Their kiss gets messy and breathless. It’s as though the room shrinks in on itself and there’s nothing left but them, two galaxies colliding and bursting into flame. Mingyu moves his hands down Minghao’s back, pulling him away from the counter just enough to grip the curve of his arse. It makes Minghao pull back, a hiss leaving his lips. He’s already the kind of dishevelled Mingyu likes best. There are few things that get him hard as quickly as Xu Minghao looking well-kissed and desperate to be fucked.
Mingyu touches the line of Minghao’s jaw, drawing him in again. The kiss is slower this time, but every bit as filthy. The hard press of Minghao against Mingyu’s thigh makes him dizzy and he digs his fingers into Minghao’s hips, grinding against him. The position isn’t quite right, but it gives some much-needed friction, and it’s enough for now. He takes his lips from Minghao’s mouth to taste the warm curve of his neck and he tilts his head obligingly to give Mingyu better access. With hurried fingers, Mingyu unbuttons Minghao’s shirt as quickly as he can manage. He pulls back for just long enough to yank off his own t-shirt, throwing it fuck knows where and pressing Minghao back against the counter.
In the past, if they hadn’t seen one another for a while due to busy solo schedules, one of them would be on their knees by now, sucking and tasting, chasing orgasms. For all they loved the slow tease, after a few days apart their first moments alone would always take on a dizzying urgency. Now, after so much time apart, those desires have intensified tenfold, but neither of them move lower. Mingyu knows why he isn’t getting on his knees for Minghao—not yet, not yet—and he expects he knows why Minghao doesn’t sink to the ground either. It’s as if neither of them wants to give the other any kind of tacit upper hand until one of them says I forgive you, I miss you, let’s try again.
Mingyu pushes those thoughts to one side, shoving his hand between them to rub the heel of his palm over Minghao’s cock. Even through cloth, Mingyu’s mouth waters at the hard, familiar line, the buck and strain of it, the heat. With a grunt, Mingyu buries his face in Minghao’s neck again and bites. He doesn’t bite hard, just enough to graze his teeth over flesh. It makes Minghao gasp and press closer in his arms, his fingers curling against Mingyu’s back. They used to say if Minghao had anything other than blunt nails, Mingyu’s back would be scratched to fuck. Even when they were trying to be tender, their fucking could turn into a rough, heady, animalistic grasp and push towards the finish.
As he kisses Minghao, it all comes flooding back. The taste of Minghao’s skin, the bitterness of cologne, the saltiness of sweat. He remembers sinking into Minghao and the way his body would shake and tremble after having Mingyu’s face and tongue sliding over and into every intimate place Mingyu could reach. He remembers the ache of his arm after fucking his fingers into Minghao, the hiss and spit of ragged pleas and the sweeping pleasure of climaxing in Minghao’s body, his hand, his mouth.
“I don’t want to be in love with you still.” Mingyu’s voice is broken, and he pushes Minghao’s open shirt off his shoulders, watching him shake it off completely and drop it on the floor. “I don’t.”
“Then fuck me like you’re not,” Minghao breathes. “Let’s pretend that’s all this is. You can fuck me like I’m a stranger.”
“You might as well be,” Mingyu replies. He doesn’t mean it, his stupid heart kicking and tripping just as it always did when Minghao was around. He runs his thumb against Minghao’s cheek, looking into his eyes. “I wouldn’t be this hard if you were a stranger, though.”
“You always say the nicest things.” Minghao laughs and it’s so bright and unexpected, it makes Mingyu laugh too. When the laughter fades away,
With a groan, Minghao tugs Mingyu into another desperate, biting kiss. They break apart and watch one another, Minghao’s eyes glassy and dark. With deliberate precision, Mingyu slides Minghao’s belt open, holding his gaze.
“Mingyu...” Minghao’s eyelids flutter closed.
“Keep them open,” Mingyu says, his voice gruff. “Look at me.”
Minghao does as Mingyu asks, his cheeks flushed. Mingyu continues to watch him as the belt clinks open, the slide of leather mingling with their ragged breaths. He slides down the zipper of Minghao’s pants, before tugging the belt completely out of its loops.
“Yes.” Minghao yanks Mingyu in, drawing him into another kiss. “Come on, Mingyu. Please.”
Mingyu pushes Minghao’s pants down, swallowing at the sight of his dick straining against his pants. Mingyu places his hands on Minghao’s hips and runs his thumbs over his sides, drinking in the shudder of pleasure the touch elicits. He drags his fingers along the trail of downy hair that snakes downwards from Minghao’s bellybutton, lifting the elastic band of his pants just a little to take in the thick, wet head of Minghao’s cock. He swipes his thumb over the head of it, not missing the way it makes Minghao buck and clutch onto the counter as if his life depends on it.
With a low grunt of pleasure, Mingyu stops his slow exploration and shoves down Minghao’s pants. He wraps his fingers around Minghao’s dick, getting used to the feel of him again, the length and the weight of him. Mingyu finds himself aching to make Minghao feel good—to make them both feel good.
Mingyu resumes his position after making sure he has proper access to Minghao’s ass. Breathlessly he slides a slick finger inside him, meeting only a little resistance. The hot clench of Minghao around him sends pleasure pulsing through his veins. He fucks Minghao slowly before adding another finger, taking in the way his lips part and the arch and buck of his body.
“I love you,” Mingyu blurts out. “I never stopped.”
“Sweet of you to tell me with your fingers buried in my ass.” Minghao’s voice breaks, the teasing chased away when Mingyu pushes inside him again, curling his fingers gently and dragging them back. “You're such a romantic—”
Minghao’s words leave him with a groan of pleasure as Mingyu takes him into his mouth, largely to shut him up. Mingyu concentrates on using his mouth and fingers to give Minghao every pleasure. His head spins with the warm, masculine scent that lingers beneath Minghao’s freshly washed skin. The delicious stretch of his jaw makes his own dick twitch in appreciation. He’s so turned on, so into every wriggle and twist of Minghao beneath him. The air in the room is close and hot, the sounds of sex and the roughness of breath filling the space. Mingyu’s jaw aches and saliva gathers in his mouth, but he doesn’t want to stop tasting Minghao. He works his fingers in tandem with his mouth, before bringing Minghao to a rushed, salty climax that leaves his body with a shudder as he collapses with a curse.
Mingyu brusquely wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and straddles Minghao, jerking himself off. Minghao is flushed and handsome, the rumple of his still damp hair, the curl of his lips and the hunger in his eyes only serving to make Mingyu even more turned on.
“I love you too,” Minghao murmurs, digging his fingers into Mingyu’s thighs. “I missed you so much it hurt.”
It turns out declarations of love are Mingyu’s thing because his orgasm spikes, hitting him with force as his cock pulses in his hand. He spills into his fist and stripes Minghao’s chin and torso with his climax, leaving him utterly dishevelled. His chest rises and he settles back on his heels, still straddling Minghao and trying to catch his breath.
“Well.” Minghao wipes Mingyu’s cum from the corner of his mouth, his eyes shining with mirth. “If I’d have known that’s all it takes to get you to cum on command…”
//
It’s midday when Mingyu finally wakes.
He reaches across the bed to the rumpled sheets and the warmth of the mattress that confirms the night wasn’t just a dream. The sound of the shower lets him know that Minghao’s still around, which is a good thing at least. There’s a hot cup of something on Mingyu’s bedside table and props himself up to drink it. The familiar taste of strong, black coffee reminds him of countless lazy weekends in bed with Minghao. A kernel of warmth swells in Mingyu’s chest as he thinks about the previous night. Part of him is happy things ended the way they did, but there’s a smaller voice that reminds him the night ended with some things left unsaid.
“Good morning.” Minghao emerges from the bathroom in a billow of steam. He rubs the back of his hair with a towel, another slung casually around his waist. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” Mingyu finishes his coffee and places the cup on the side. “Do you have anywhere to be today?”
“Nada. Zilch.” Minghao glances at the clothes he left in a neat pile on a chair in the corner of the bedroom, then looks back at the bed. “Do you?”
“Me neither.” Mingyu reaches out a hand and Minghao crosses the room quickly, leaving his towels on the floor and slipping under the sheets. “Still using as many towels as possible?”
“I used your toothbrush too.” Mingyu’s lips tilt into a smile. “I also used plenty of your body wash. It’s new.”
“Yeah.” Mingyu doesn’t want to mention he changed it because the old one reminded him of Minghao. He hopes this doesn’t go to shit again. He really doesn’t want to have to buy new stuff when he’s only just got everything the way he likes it. “I should probably shower.”
“Things are different now, Mingyu. I’m making other choices.” Minghao says abruptly.
“What choices are you making now?” Mingyu turns on his side to look down at Minghao, drinking in the sharp, angular lines of his face and his eyes.
“I’m turning up on your apartment uninvited for a start.” Minghao’s lips curve into a small smile as he looks at Mingyu. “Then refusing to leave, after the first attempt goes to hell.” He takes a faltering breath. “It’s time to stop running. I’m choosing you, if that’s still an option.”
“It’s an option.” Mingyu doesn’t need to consider it for a second. He wants so badly to try. He’s never been afraid to take risks. Even if he ends up buying another new sofa as Seokmin pats him awkwardly on the shoulder telling him to cheer up, dude, there are some risks worth taking. The fact that Minghao’s willing—at last—to take that chance too makes his body warm. “What do you want from me? No jokes, no lies. Just the truth.”
“Everything you wanted before. No more hiding away.” Minghao holds Mingyu gaze, a light flush colouring his cheeks. “I told my mum I was planning to see you. She said if we were able to resolve things, she’d like to have dinner with us.”
“If that’s what you want.” Mingyu relishes the idea of making small talk with Minghao’s parents as his boyfriend, and not just a member of Seventeen.
“I’m sorry,” Minghao says, sincerely. “I should never have left without speaking to you first. I got it all so wrong.”
“It’s okay,” Mingyu replies. “I’m not sure I got everything right either.” He brushes his thumb against Minghao’s cheek. “But I forgive you, if you need to hear it.”
“And I’m not going anywhere again,” Minghao says. “If you need to hear that.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I suggest you shower and brush your teeth because I have plans for later. I’ve had a year of abstinence, after all.” Minghao jokes.
“You’re not the only one.” Mingyu leans up for one more quick kiss. “There’s been no one else. Just lots of moping around and furniture shopping.”
Mingyu stands and opens his bedroom windows, The hail from the night before has melted away and the sky is blue and vibrant. Mingyu drinks in the boldness of the air as the shadows disappear together with the heavy weight of secrets, chased away by the light of the sun.