Chapter Text
As far as best friends go, Jeong Yunho is top tier. Elite. Diamond league.
Mingi doesn’t know what he did in a previous life to deserve him, but it must have been epic. Maybe he was that guy who discovered penicillin by fucking off on holiday and leaving such a mess mould grew and killed the shit out of some bacteria? Seems like something Mingi would do.
Anyway, the point is, Yunho is brilliant. Way too good for him. His only flaw is that he seems to have a weird blind spot about that, thank fuck. Because Mingi is too much of a selfish bastard to let him go.
They met on the cusp of puberty, voices still squeaky and shoulders the size of paperclips. They grew up together and grew together, always in lockstep with Yunho like the more high-class version and Mingi the bargain bin knockoff. The Twin Towers their—mostly vertically challenged—friends called them. That’s also because they’d rarely see one without the other. Even when they went to different unis, they’d picked places to live within walking distance of each other, even if that meant they both lived further away from school than was comfortable, really.
Despite being very different, they’ve been attached at the hip for over a decade. Mingi is impulsive, cocky, artsy and prone to anxiety, while Yunho is thoughtful, competitive, successful and happy-go-lucky. Mingi is always getting into scraps and minor accidents, while Yunho perpetually looks like he’s just had dinner with his in-laws or walked off a magazine shoot.
The thing about having a spectator for his most formative years is that Yunho has been there for all of Mingi’s greatest triumphs and his biggest humiliations. He’d had his back when he decided to pursue music production even when his mum was against it. Until she came around, in no small part thanks to Yunho’s steadfast belief in him. She loves him like a son and definitely trusts his judgement more than Mingi’s—he’s not offended, he agrees. He’d also been there when Mingi went through the mortifying and confusing realisation that he definitely likes boys in the way society expected him to want girls.
Yunho witnessed Mingi’s first kiss, his first boyfriend, his first breakup, all in the space of two months. He’d picked up the pieces of Mingi’s broken heart and patiently held his hand through the conveyor belt of flings and flirtations that came after. He’s been an excellent wingman since college, even if he gets hit on at least as often as Mingi in the gay bars he gets dragged to. He’s a good sport about it. Their friend Wooyoung is still a little salty that Yunho never dipped his toes in the boy pond.
And in turn, Mingi had been there for all of Yunho’s milestones. Graduating as valedictorian, getting into SNU, the hellish pressure of living up to expectations and his own exacting standard. He was also by his side when Yunho met Garam at the tender age of 15 and dated her through school, college and their first year out in the real world. And when they suddenly split up last year.
It came out of left field for Mingi. For all their closeness in every other way, they never talked much about his relationship Garam. She knew Yunho and Mingi were a package deal and had always accepted that, but she never seemed very keen to get close to Mingi. Fair enough. He’d always found her a little boring, perfectly nice but a bit flat. Safe. But Yunho loved her, so he’d been prepared to love her too. She just never really opened up to let him in. They’d been on good terms, but he understood she may not be comfortable with Yunho sharing too many intimate details of their relationship. So, Yunho rarely talked about it and he never pressed.
The breakup was hard for Yunho, but not exactly in the way Mingi expected. He’d been with Garam for nearly eight years, he’d never really dated or developed his social life as much as he should have outside of that relationship. And suddenly, he had more free time than he knew what to do with. Mingi’s group of friends eagerly adopted Yunho, adorkable puppy that he is. And he had gone out to find hobbies, often dragging a reluctant Mingi along. Well, reluctant is a big word. Mingi loves spending time with Yunho, even if it is at a painting workshop to draw vines with some lemons hanging off of them while sipping Pinot Grigio. They ended up sort of looking like sadly shrivelled yellow testicles. They swapped paintings anyway and Yunho’s monstrosity has pride of place in Mingi’s hallway.
More recently though, Yunho had started to show interest in entering the dating pool. This is an entirely new dynamic for them. Mingi has always been the one looking for dick, with Yunho trying to facilitate. Mingi has never before tried to help anyone, let alone Yunho, swing pussy before. It should be the easiest job in the world because just look at him. It’s like a prince just walked off of the pages of a gorgeously illustrated manhwa. Girls will be falling over each other to have a chance with him. Still, the idea makes Mingi nervous. Yunho is kind of clueless and a little awkward. And it’s frankly hard to imagine anyone being good enough for his Yuyu. But, if he was willing to endure a four-hour sourdough-making class with his bestie, then he sure as fuck could sit through some cringe club nights watching girls throw themselves at Yunho, right?
That’s how he finds himself going to a disco night one Saturday. It isn’t their first time out together and it certainly won’t be their last, but something feels… different. They’re at Mingi’s place getting ready and Yunho seems a little fidgety. Mingi is already in a pair of flared, ripped jeans, trusty combat boots and a leather vest that shows off just enough of his stomach to put on a belly chain. It matches his stacks of silver rings and clip-on ear piercings and his freshly dyed midnight black hair. Not exactly on theme, but disco-adjacent, emo version. And just the right side of slutty.
In contrast, Yunho is his usually buttoned-up self. Even at the club, he’s always in shirts and slacks. It never deters hopefuls trying to catch his eye, though, he doesn’t need to be flashy to attract attention. But he’s a little on edge tonight. Mingi offered him his usual pregame shot of tequila, fully expecting him to turn it down like always, but he accepted and chucked it back like a pro without hesitation. It doesn’t click until he sees Yunho looking through his closet and fingering one of his mesh tops. Oh. Ooooh.
He’s on the prowl tonight. Mingi’s gut swoops at the idea. In excitement surely. He’s never really seen Yunho put the moves on anyone and he’d be lying if he’d say he isn’t curious.
“You wanna try it?” he says, eyebrow raised.
Yunho bites his lip in shyness, clearly fighting with his tendency to want to fade into the background. Like he ever could.
“C’mon, what’s the harm in putting it on?” Mingi cajoles, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It’s going to be dark as fuck in there anyway. Live a little!”
Yunho sends him an entirely ineffectual glare, but gently picks the top off the hanger.
“Okay, turn around.”
Mingi rolls his eyes, but complies. They’ve seen each other in all states of undress before and he’s not sure why he’s being so demure now. But fine. He won’t offend Yuyu’s delicate sensibilities if it gets him to step out of his comfort zone a little.
“Who’s the princess now, huh?” he can’t help but tease.
“Still you.”
He’s not wrong. Mingi had been spoiled all his life. He’s the youngest and his mum and brother both dote on him. So what if he’s a 6-foot-something babygirl with thighs and cake for days? He doesn’t make the rules.
“I don’t know about this…”
Mingi takes that as his cue to turn around and all the breath is promptly knocked out of him. Yunho has always been prettier than he has any right to be, but this outfit is fucking lethal. His best friend is all lean muscle, clean lines and creamy skin, tantalisingly hidden by the mesh.
“Fuck dude,” he breathes. “You are going to clean up. Leave some for us mortals, will you?”
Yunho’s ears glow a gratifying pink immediately and he ducks his head. He crosses his arms over his stomach, which pushes his chest out a little and Mingi tries very hard not to stare at the nipple winking at him.
“I don’t know, it’s very revealing,” he says, mouth twisting in discomfort.
Look, he’s fucking stunning in the outfit, but it won’t mean shit if he’s not feeling himself.
“Okay how about this, why don’t you wear this on top, but leave it open?”
Mingi grabs a lovely silky silver shirt that doesn’t suit his more tanned skin tone, but makes Yunho’s glow like moonlight. It covers just enough to feel a bit more modest, but doesn’t ruin the effect of the outfit.
Yunho even lets him swipe some glittery silver eyeshadow across his eyes and cheekbones. But he draws the line at the black eyeliner Mingi traces around his own eyes. Can’t win ‘em all.
Some of their friends are already at the club, fellow music producer Hongjoong, his boyfriend Seonghwa and one of only two people Mingi lets call him hyung, Jongho. Never mind the fact that Mingi has accidentally called Jongho hyung on more than one occasion. Their friends don’t even correct him anymore. Mingi is sure it’s some glitch in the matrix that Jongho is a whole year younger than him.
Everyone fawns over Yunho’s daring look and the blush spreads from his ears to his cheeks and down his neck. Mingi wants to scoop him out of a cup like creamy gelato. The thought doesn’t even faze him. It’s Yuyu, how could he not?
Predictably, it takes less than 5 minutes for some girls to start making eyes at Yunho. Equally predictably, he’s utterly oblivious and pulls Mingi to the bar for the first vodka soda of the night.
Armed with some liquid courage, Mingi starts looking around the club.
“See anything you like?” Yunho sips his drink through the tiny straw. Who’s the babygirl really?
“I dunno, they look hot I guess,” he waves a hand at a trio of girls in crop tops and hoop earrings not half as subtle as they think in glancing their way. They’re joined by two boys in outrageous wigs and platform boots also making eyes at them.
Yunho scrunches up his nose. Alright, jeez.
“Too in-your-face, no?”
“So picky, Yuyu.”
“Can’t let our standards slide, princess,” he grins back.
He’s not exactly sure what standards Yunho is referring to here. He has yet to set any and Mingi’s are on the floor. But go off, bestie.
They head to the dance floor instead, the disco tunes just too good to ignore. Yunho is a spectacular dancer and secure enough in his masculinity to use his hips like he means it. Soon, they’re coming up with ever more outlandish thrusts and swivels, collapsing against each other with laughter. Mingi’s entirely forgotten the mission to get Yunho laid and his best friend seems not to give a fuck either.
They’re sweaty and flushed when the DJ starts to lay fat beats under the disco bangers. The atmosphere in the club shifts subtly, from good-natured fun to something a little sexier. Yunho smiles in that way that shows off his cheeks and he pulls Mingi closer. He moves with a bit more purpose, a little less play and a whole lot more grind. Mingi doesn’t mind, if Yuyu needs to work up a bit of courage, he’ll happily oblige.
It doesn’t take long for a very pretty girl to feel a little bold and dance up against Yunho. Mingi all but yeets him at her, laughing raucously at the withering glare he gets from his bestie. But ever the gentleman, Yunho turns to dance with her.
Keen not to make Yunho feel like he’s being watched, Mingi slips through the crowd in search of his friends. He spots Jongho making out with an incredibly pretty boy in a dark corner and shakes his head smiling. He finds Hongjoong and Seonghwa and they scream the lyrics to Hot Stuff at each other.
Just as the DJ puts on a clubby remix of ABBA’s Gimme, gimme, gimme, he feels a hand on his elbow and turns to see Yunho saying something. It’s too loud to make out his voice so Mingi sends him a quizzical look and points at his ear to indicate he can’t hear him. Yunho rolls his eyes good-naturedly. And then, totally innocently and unintentionally, he ruins Mingi’s life forever.
He steps closer, one hand on Mingi’s forearm, the other wrapping around his neck to pull him in. His lips hit Mingi’s ear, setting off a chain reaction. Sparks fly through his veins, igniting fireworks across all of his nerve endings. It radiates out from his chest, like his heart explodes and sends shockwaves all the way through to his fingertips and back. Everything happens in slow motion, like the room is suspended in jello. The thumping beat fades to the background as all of his senses hone in on Yunho, whose chest is plastered against his side. He knows he’s saying something because he feels the rumbling vibrations through his shoulder and the hot breath ricocheting down the shell of his ear. But he can’t hear shit over the roaring in his ears. He may be burning up on the inside, but externally Mingi’s body is frozen like he’s been hit by lightning.
Mingi just nods dumbly because whatever the fuck Yunho wants, the answer is yes. He seems completely unaware of the internal implosion he just caused because he saunters off towards the bar. Mingi is rooted to the spot, absolutely helpless to do anything but spectate the biggest disaster of his life. It feels like he’s been swept up in a mudslide thundering down a hill, still gathering speed and mercilessly swallowing up everything he thought he knew.
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Seonghwa, ever the caring and attentive hyung, immediately notices something’s wrong. What’s worse, he also seems to instantaneously understand what’s wrong. He takes one look at Yunho’s retreating back and Mingi’s stunned expression and his face twists in sympathy.
“Oh honey.”
Mingi can feel the walls closing in and his heart jackrabbiting in his chest, compressing his lungs, all the tell-tale signs of an impending panic attack. He turns wild, pleading eyes on Seonghwa, who springs into action.
“Let’s get you out of here, just breathe babes,” he wraps an arm around his shoulders and tells Hongjoong to let Yunho know he’s taking Mingi home.
He steers Mingi through the sweaty throng of people into the blessedly cool air and flags down a taxi. The rest is all a blur. He’s vaguely aware he’s put in his bed and that his phone goes off, but Seonghwa is there to answer it and give him water and hold his clammy hand.
***
Mingi wakes up the next day still bone tired and with a pounding headache. That’ll be the hangover. Both from the alcohol and his body locking up every muscle in panic as if it was preparing to outrun a bear rather than facing the absolutely horrifying realisation that he’s deeply, totally, helplessly in love with his straight best friend. Mingi would rather face the bear, honestly.
He groans and buries his face in his pillow. He wants to just hibernate for the next 10 years and pretend none of this is happening thank you. But that’s the thing about having a grade A+ best friend, they won’t leave you the fuck alone.
His phone goes off again and while he’d been alright ignoring the string of texts waiting for him, he’s too much of a weakling to leave Yunho’s call hanging. His guts are doing summersaults and wheelies, so he masks his nerves with prickliness.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Yeah, early enough to get your face printed on milk cartons in case you didn’t pick up.”
“Calm down, mum, I was sleeping it off.”
Yunho huffs a bit, but doesn’t seem to read too much into his gruffness beyond it being too fucking early in the morning to be conscious.
“Are you good? You left suddenly and Hwa said you weren’t doing so hot…”
There’s just a hint of hurt in his tone. It’s subtle, but Mingi knows Yunho’s moods and feeling better than he knows his own. And he knows why. Mingi would normally turn to him when he’s struck with an anxiety attack, using Yunho both as an anchor and a warm blanket of comfort. But he couldn’t bloody well go to the root cause of his blinding panic.
“Yeah, it just sort of came on really suddenly and hyung took me home. I’m achy, but I’ll live.”
He sticks to a censored version of the truth. Mingi isn’t a great liar under the best of circumstances and he is downright awful at keeping things from Yunho. Fuck, this is going to be a problem.
Because no fucking way in hell is he going to ruin the best thing will ever happen to him in this lifetime and probably the next by telling his very straight best mate that he’s had the startling realisation he wants to marry him and have his babies.
“Hmmm, want me to come over with an almond croissant to make it better?”
Jesus fucking Christ, can this guy not be like the perfect embodiment of the boyfriend fantasy for one second? Mingi’s mental health, already fragile on a good day, is hanging by a single damn thread.
If he says no, that’s hella suspicious, because he’s quite literally never refused free pastries before. But if he says yes, he can’t guarantee he won’t profess his undying love for Yunho over the most delicious pastry ever invented by man or try to suck his soul out through his dick. No, he needs to stay on neutral ground.
“Uh, yeah okay, but can we meet at the coffee shop?”
Yunho’s silence suggests he’s surprised, and really, not being lazy is kind of out of character for Mingi.
“I just need some fresh air and hot coffee,” he says quickly.
Yunho accepts his explanation without issue and promises to meet him there. Mingi has about half an hour to get his shit together and not fuck this up.
He allows himself one moment to press the palms of his hands right into the soft tissue of his eye sockets. How the fuck did this happen? He’s never been attracted to Yunho this way, has he? Well, he’d always thought he was pretty and hot in a dorky way, but that’s an objective truth. And of course, he’s clever and kind, funny and talented and yeah okay so maybe he’d always had like a bit of a crush.
But it had truly always been platonic. No secret pining or wanking or anything like that. Yunho had just always been off limits, both taken and not into guys. It had never occurred to Mingi that lusting after, let alone falling in romantic love with, Yunho was a possibility. He doesn’t do people who are taken. But it seems his idiot heart does do people who bat for the other team. What a fucking rookie gay error.
He’s just going to have to wait it out. He’s had ill-advised crushes before. This feels different, though, he knows this isn’t some simple starry-eyed mooning. But Mingi can’t give Yunho up, he can’t.
So, whatever it takes, he’ll do it. If he has to watch Yunho marry a small, soft and sweet girl and have 1.3 children and a golden retriever, then so be it.
By the time Mingi rolls out the door in a frayed, acid wash jumper and some baggy jeans, he’s got a game plan. Find something that gives him the ick, focus on it until it is all he can see and whatever happens, he canNOT look directly into Yuyu’s sparkling boba eyes.
As soon as he sees Yunho at their coffee shop, wrapped in a stylish navy blue jumper and grey slacks, looking every bit the husband material he is, Mingi knows he’s absolutely fucked. His face lights up like a sparkler when he spots Mingi, steaming flat white and massive almond croissant already waiting. Fuck his life honestly, how is he supposed to defend himself against that? That’s just fucking cheating.
He forces himself to smile back and sternly tells his hammering heart to calm the fuck down. Thankfully, Yunho’s got bar stool seats against the window so he doesn’t have to sit there and face him like they’re on a breakfast date.
“I honestly thought you might have gone home with one of those guys at first,” Yunho says as soon as he’s sat down.
Mingi frowns and takes a bite from his croissant. “What guys?”
Yunho’s eyes crinkle in endeared amusement as he wipes some icing sugar from the corner of Mingi’s mouth. This very innocent, friendly gesture totally absolutely does not send a pastry flake down the wrong pipe, making Mingi fight for his life. Yunho lightly taps his back.
“The guys you pointed out early on, when we were having our first drink?”
What the fuck is he talking about? His face must radiate confusion because it’s Yunho’s turn to frown.
“I asked if you saw anything you liked?”
“Oooohhhh, I thought you meant for you,” he sips his piping hot coffee in a desperate attempt to get his brain to wake up. “I was pointing at some girls blatantly checking you out.”
A look of dismay flits across Yunho’s handsome face, blink and you miss it. “Ah okay, I wasn’t really… I thought you were looking at the two men with the hair and the makeup.”
Mingi is momentarily distracted by an elegant ringed hand fluttering around his face as he speaks. Unfortunately, it also means he’s not paying enough attention to his mouth.
“Who would I even look at, I was there with you.”
Yunho’s eyes widen a fraction, his plump lips forming a little oh of surprise.
“I was just uh, trying to get you back into the saddle!” he hurries to add.
To cover his embarrassment, he takes a gulp of his coffee, but it’s still so scalding it burns his tongue. He hisses as he spills hot liquid over his hand in his haste to put the cup down.
If there were a merciful god, he’d have a meteor fall out of the sky and take Mingi out now and put him out of his fucking misery. Please and thank you.
Instead, he gets a fussy Yuyu making adorable mother hen clucking noises. A perfect ick to try to latch onto, one might think. But no, because next thing he knows, Yunho is dabbing at his hand with a napkin and blowing on the skin. Mingi feels a very dangerous twinge below the belt and can only sit there in horror as he sports a semi from his best friend’s hot breath on his hand. Fucking get a grip, you absolute creep.
He snatches his hand back and waves off Yunho’s concern. Yeah, it stings and the skin is definitely an unhealthy shade of pink, but he’d rather chop his hand off than endure more of this mortification.
“How’s your week looking?” Mingi is desperate to get onto a safer subject.
“Ah boring same old, same old, you know.”
Yunho works for a major tech conglomerate, designing state-of-the-art chips for use in artificial intelligence. Mingi sincerely doubts any of it is ever the same or old, and he most definitely does not know.
“I’m more interested in next Saturday!” He says, lightly punching Mingi’s shoulder.
Oh fuck, what’s next Saturday? He fights to stop his stomach from jumping clean out of his fucking mouth when he remembers.
Salsa. He’d agreed to go to a salsa class with Yunho. Oh, he is so absolutely, insanely fucked.
“Bring your best dancing shoes!”
Mingi will be glad if he manages to bring his sanity.
***
Midway through the week, he folds like a Melona on a hot summer’s day and calls on Seonghwa. He’s been avoiding Yunho as much as he dares without hurting his feelings, and he’s slowly going insane. Not only does he have to wrangle with a whole new dimension to the most important relationship in his life, he can’t talk to said person about it.
Thankfully, Seonghwa’s door is always open, much like his arms. Mingi, an inveterate cuddler, folds himself into the embrace despite being both taller and broader than his hyung. It’s pathetic really, a few days of avoiding intimacy with Yunho, both physical and mental, and he’s reduced to a needy mess.
Not one to beat much around the bush, Seonghwa launches straight into it as soon as they’ve sat down on the couch with a cup of tea.
“So, Yunho. It hit you hard, huh?”
Even though he came here for advice, the directness has Mingi shrinking back behind his cup. Has it been that obvious to everyone but him—and Yunho apparently?
He grimaces and nods.
“Hmmm, coup de foudre,” Seonghwa murmurs. “I thought it might, one day.”
“Well, that makes one of us,” Mingi says, testily. He’s a little miffed if he’s honest. “I never saw him like that.”
“I know, babes,” Seonghwa puts his cup down and pats Mingi’s knee, soothing rather than patronising.
“I don’t mean to imply it was inevitable, but I’m also not exactly surprised,” he says gently. “You and Yunho have always been so close. It may not have been romantic love before, but it didn’t seem entirely platonic either.”
Fine, put like that it’s not all that outlandish. He’s always had a minor crush on Yunho. Okay okay, maybe it’s been fairly major, but he’s never been sexually attracted to him before. He sighs, he might as well lay it all out there. Mingi knows Seonghwa won’t betray his trust, not even to Hongjoong.
“I guess yeah, it just… all of a sudden it was just all there. Like it had been lying in wait all along, or whatever.” Mingi pauses a moment to gather his thoughts. “He was just always in a relationship, you know? It was never even a possibility before.”
He realises what he’s just said and laughs hollowly. “Not like it’s a possibility now. Yunho doesn’t go for dick.”
Seonghwa puckers his lips and regards him steadily, but doesn’t say anything. One of his fingers winds around the string of his tea bag.
“What?”
“Nothing, just,” Seonghwa hesitates again and Mingi’s stomach is doing backflips all the way around his fucking body.
“Has he said something to you?” Mingi feels wild and utterly unfounded hope roar to life and he desperately tries to tamp it down. Surely, Yuyu would have told him if…
“No, no, he hasn’t,” Seonghwa flutters a hand as if to erase that thought and Mingi’s guts clench so hard he thinks his tea may come pouring out of his eyes in a second. “I just, well, he was so young when he got with Garam and I think he’s never really put himself out there properly to explore what he likes.”
Mingi has to force down the bile that rises in his throat. It’s not like his hyung is wrong, but there’s a huge difference between Yunho finding out he’s into something like spanking and wanting to fuck his best friend who happens to be another dude.
His mouth twists in dismay. He’s never seen Yunho express a romantic interest in, well, anyone. Not even Garam much, if he’s perfectly honest.
Seonghwa sighs. “All I’m saying is, what I said before doesn’t just apply to you. Yunho looks at you the same way you look at him.”
“Not anymore he doesn’t,” Mingi groans.
Seonghwa doesn’t respond, sipping his tea thoughtfully.
***
By the time Saturday rolls around, Mingi is almost grateful. His nerves are entirely shot after a week of fretting about his less-than-chaste feelings towards his best friend and the prospect of quite literally being shoved together in an intimate position for two hours.
For a second, he considers claiming a headache and begging off. But that would just result in Yunho rescheduling the salsa and coming over to fuss over him like he’s not a grown man capable of taking care of himself. Well. He does get pathetic when he’s genuinely ill. But that’s beside the point.
The point is, it would just delay the inevitable and he’d be lying to Yunho, so that’s a no.
He’s had little in the way of release for all the tension that’s been building all week, too. Because every time he tries to engage in some good old stress relief, his mind keeps wandering to a certain pretty cupid’s bow, broad, sexy shoulders and long, elegant fingers. Jacking off to thoughts of Yunho feels like blasphemy, a betrayal, a threshold he can’t come back from.
Mingi fights it, he really does. But the itch gets more and more intense and when he wakes up on Saturday, he is so pent up he thinks his morning wood will never go down. If he doesn’t work some of this out now, he’s going to be poking Yunho in the thigh like a horny teenager all night.
With a pathetic whimper, he gives in. It’s embarrassing how quickly he comes. It’s doubly embarrassing that he has to go again about half an hour later because it was so fucking good. The second one is even better. He is a fucking degenerate monster, but at least he’s a satisfied one now.
Even so, he’s shitting bricks when he walks into the dance academy. Ever perfectly punctual, Yunho is already there. Mingi takes one look at him and has to fight the urge to walk straight back out. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. His legs go for miles in elegant black trousers and he’s got a black silk shirt tucked into them, top three buttons undone. It shows off a tantalising little v of creamy white skin that’s frankly indecent. His dark brown hair is parted away from his forehead like he’s about to serenade a fair maiden on a balcony. Mingi has never wished more fervently to be a fair maiden than in this very moment.
He must have been staring dumbly, because Yunho sends him a slightly quizzical look. Mingi rushes to chuck off his denim jacket and shove his bag to the side of the room. He guiltily sneaks in to join his best friend, dodging the dance teacher’s judgemental look.
“Sorry for being late,” he whispers, cringing at the fact that it’s entirely due to having a mini mental breakdown out the front earlier.
Yunho bumps his shoulder to indicate he doesn’t mind. He should be used to it by now, to be fair. “You look nice,” he whispers back right into Mingi’s ear, making him shiver involuntarily.
Mingi looks down at himself with a frown. He’s opted for Nike sneakers, ripped jeans and a black sleeveless tee that’s got large armholes to avoid the worst of the inevitable pit stains. It’s basic at best and perhaps a little too casual in reality, but he didn’t exactly have much mental bandwidth to spend on his fit in between freaking out about climaxing with his best friend’s name on his lips. Twice.
No time to dwell on it much now either, because their teacher has them locking arms in the next minute, coming around to correct everyone’s stance. It basically consists of her shoving everyone closer together, but Yunho beats her to it. He wraps an arm around Mingi’s lower back and draws him in real close. Because of course he’s taking the lead.
Mingi’s lungs spasm in response and he breathes shallowly for a few seconds to try and get them under control. Yunho unwittingly comes to the rescue. He puts on such a funny mock serious face, it allows Mingi to relieve some of the tension with a breathy laugh.
The teacher comes around and hums in appreciation at them. Mingi convinced Yunho to join him at the school dance club a year into their friendship, and true to form the bastard was a natural. Even though neither of them had done much ballroom before, their basic understanding of balance, body control and fluidity helps them get the hang of it quite quickly.
But there’s no two ways about it. This shit is intimate. Yunho’s warm arm is locked on his lower back and drifts down to just above the swell of his ass at times, while their faces are mere inches apart for much of the class. Mingi, who’s always had loose hips and good swivel, puts it to good use. But it also means their lower halves end up grinding together a little more than judges would like to see if this were a ballroom competition.
Still, there’s not much awkwardness between them. Every time things get a bit serious or heated, all Mingi has to do is look into Yunho’s glinting eyes and they both dissolve in giggles. It’s fun. That said, it’s also a fucking workout and the way Yunho’s fringe sticks to his sweaty forehead is super fucking distracting.
So much so that Mingi doesn’t notice how close they’ve veered to the wall and the bags lined up against it. Just as Yunho swings him out with the intention of reeling him in with a twist, he stumbles over a backpack and windmills the hand not still clutching Yunho’s for balance, but his foot is caught in the strap and he knows he’s going down.
Not on Yuyu’s watch. He shoots forward to stop Mingi from crashing to the floor. In an insane move Mingi genuinely thought only ever happens in dramas, Yunho wraps an arm around his shoulder as he’s falling, bends his knee and catches him in a dramatic dip.
Mingi’s breath hitches, both in relief at not having his ribs meet the hardwood dancefloor and at Yunho’s worried face hovering an inch above his, breathing hard. It looks like a dramatic swoon and it may as well be because fuck if Mingi can get his knees to work at all right now.
No matter, because Yunho’s arm is holding him up like he weighs absolutely nothing with much more strength than his lanky form suggests. Well hello, sailor.
“Princess! You okay?”
A small bead of sweat rolls down his temple and jawline, dangling there for half a second before it drops and splashes against the side Mingi’s cheek. It should be absolutely disgusting, but it’s so fucking hot Mingi has to close his eyes or he’s going to have a very embarrassing episode of public indecency on his record.
“Uh yeah,” he squeaks, clearing his throat. “All good, nice catch!”
And then he gives Yunho a thumbs up. He immediately wants to die. Instead, Yunho tips him up and makes sure his feet are untangled. It puts his face entirely too close to Mingi’s crotch and he’s fighting for his life not to pop the boner to end all boners.
Two girls who’d been giggling at them behind their hands all class positively titter at the display. Mingi flees to the bathroom to splash some water in his face and rearrange his nethers. Why always him?
Class ends soon after and one couple wishes them a lovely rest of their date. Mingi opens his mouth to say they’re just friends, nothing to see here! But they’re already walking off because Yunho just smiles and thanks them. Mingi side-eyes him, but he looks like his normal chill self, utterly unaffected by the idea that other people think they’re together.
To be fair, this is by no means the first time this has happened. Mingi’s own mum thought they were dating the first time she properly met Yunho. In fact, they’d made a bit of a joke of it, fluttering their eyelashes and pointing gross wet pouts at one another whenever someone assumed they’re banging. Yunho had always found it funny. Mingi suspects that if they ever played gay chicken, he himself would be the one to pull away first.
His Yuyu hates losing and Mingi, well, he sucks at winning.