Work Text:
“Do a sexy dance!”
“No, no, no, something worse than that! Come on!”
“Run naked outside!”
“Worse!” Joshua hollers. “Something worse!”
Junhui grimaces. He isn’t nearly as drunk as his friends; unfortunately, they’re the ones selecting his punishment for having lost miserably at the party game they’re playing.
“Kiss someone,” Seokmin slurrily suggests.
“Hook up with someone!” Jeonghan corrects.
“With Minghao!”
Junhui turns to look incredulously at Joshua, who looks quite pleased with his suggestion.
”Excuse me?” Junhui asks.
“Hook up with Minghao!” Joshua repeats.
“Do it! Do it!” Hansol eggs them on, like they’re going to have sex right there in front of everyone.
“Proof, we want proof! Pictures! Bring us pictures!” Joshua shouts, then cackles hard enough to spill some of his drink down his front.
Junhui dares to sneak a look at Minghao, seated on the couch opposite. Minghao isn’t looking at Junhui. He isn’t looking at anyone.
“Guys,” Junhui says, “cut it out.”
“Guys,” Soonyoung adds, also sensing his best friend’s discomfort, “come on.”
Seungcheol seems to notice Junhui and Minghao’s shared discomfort through his drunken haze and jumps in. “Okay kids, that’s enough. Just make Junhui do another shot and move onto the next round.”
There’s a chorus of disappointed boos, but it’s Seungcheol’s birthday party, so the group obeys. In this moment, Junhui catches a quick nonverbal exchange between Minghao and Soonyoung, a series of looks and nods and quirked eyebrows that he can’t decipher. Soonyoung seems placated by the end of it, is all Junhui can tell.
Eventually, Jeonghan interrupts the group’s groaning by standing up to pour and bring Junhui another shot. Junhui quickly accepts and downs the shot.
“Round four, let’s go!” Seungkwan announces, and everyone seems to forget about the punishment.
Everyone except Junhui, who doesn’t crowd in with the group to restart the game. Instead, he stays far away on his couch, trying to sort through the overwhelming mix of embarassment and disbelief coursing through him. It figures, this is what would happen the first time he ever agrees to play this game.
Everyone except Junhui and Minghao, who Junhui notices also stays as far away from everyone as possible on the couch opposite, saying nothing.
--
Joshua is much more blunt when he’s drunk than when he’s sober, almost famously so among their group. For this reason, he’s the one Junhui approaches after the game is over.
Junhui got fed up with watching Minghao silently look dejected, seated all by himself on the couch. Junhui doesn’t really care about Minghao more than any other friend of a friend, but now he’s feeling bad enough to say something.
“Jisoo, hey,” Junhui says, pulling him aside from his trek to the kitchen for more alcohol. “Talk with me for a second.”
Joshua looks at Junhui with impatience, like he’s got pressing matters Junhui’s keeping him from.
“About this punishment, man-- it’s not like we’re going to do it but, look--“ Junhui falters, “dude, just-- don’t say stuff like that.” He gestures helplessly. “It’s just so awkward. It makes things weird for both of us. Me and him, I mean.”
“You two don’t have to do anything,” Joshua says. The authority of his tone is really undercut by the fact that he’s swaying slightly where he stands.
“Don’t do this just because we’re both Chinese,” Junhui adds, because the idea really bothers him.
“I didn’t,” Joshua says, swaying a bit more. “I did it because you two have a weird thing.”
Junhui frowns. “No we don’t.”
“Yeah, you do,” Joshua slurs. “You both talk to everyone else but you don’t talk to each other.”
Actually, Junhui has to admit, that’s probably true. Junhui and Minghao see each other at group events all the time and say hello and are totally polite, but Junhui doesn’t think either of them has ever spoken more than three words in a row to the other. He doesn’t understand why everyone has to make such a big deal out of it, though.
“Some people just don’t...” Junhui begins to explain, attempting a gesture, but he doesn’t know how to finish, so he stops there. “Some people just don’t.”
“Well, I do,” Joshua declares nonsensically, “and now you two are going to too.” He smiles brightly at his own pun, and then wanders away, probably to locate Jeonghan’s lap.
Junhui exhales and drops himself down onto a nearby chair.
He glances across the room to see Minghao speaking with Soonyoung, their heads close together as they converse quietly. Junhui wonders if they’re talking about the punishment. Complaining, more likely. Minghao is probably bemoaning even having to talk to Junhui, even if it’s to tell him that he’s disgusted by just the idea of hooking up with him.
It’s just as well. Junhui gets up to pour himself another shot.
--
About an hour and a half later, someone shakes a powder blue scarf in Junhui’s face.
“Is this yours?” Hansol asks from behind it, shaking the scarf more as if this will help Junhui identify it.
“It’s not,” Junhui answers. “Where did you get it?”
“The couch over there.” Hansol gestures vaguely with the scarf. “It’s not mine,” he adds unnecessarily. “It’s not yours.” His face screws up with confusion. “So whose is it?”
Junhui shrugs.
“We need to find out,” Hansol insists.
Junhui doesn’t think it’s very urgent, but he tries to be helpful and contemplates. Now that he thinks about it, he thinks he remembers someone wearing it into the party. He thinks it was...
“Minghao,” Junhui says. But Minghao left at least an hour ago.
“Oh.” Hansol visibly calms. “Okay.” He drops the scarf in Junhui’s lap.
“Wait!” Junhui says as Hansol begins to toddle away towards where the others are playing Cards Against Humanity. “What do I do with it?”
Hansol shrugs, but he holds his shoulders up for so long that they comically begin to look frozen. He then abruptly drops them. “Give it to him when you fuck him.”
Junhui frowns as Hansol disappears into their friend group.
--
Soonyoung’s phone is sitting on top of the coffee table in front of Junhui.
It’s not like Junhui is really that drunk anyway. He didn’t have much to drink to begin with and only did a couple shots during the game, and his head feels pretty clear now. And Soonyoung probably wouldn’t mind.
So, fuck it. Junhui grabs the phone.
There’s no password for the lock screen.
“Hey,” Minghao answers after two rings.
“Hi,” Junhui says back.
“Hello?” Minghao answers again, confused.
“Hey, it’s Junhui. I’m calling from Soonyoung’s phone,” Junhui explains.
“Oh.” Minghao makes even the one syllable sound skeptical.
No one says anything for an uncomfortably long stretch of time, and then Minghao asks, “Uh, is everything okay?”
“Oh, right,” Junhui fumbles, “Um, I saw that you left your scarf here. Blue, right? That’s why I called you. It’s here on the couch.”
“Oh.”
Junhui wonders why in the hell the two of them just can’t have a normal conversation, why they’ve never been able to have a normal conversation.
“Okay,” Minghao says, “should I come back and get it?”
“No, no,” Junhui answers automatically, “you don’t have to do that. Look, I’ll--“
What the fuck are you doing? Just say Soonyoung will bring it to him, a voice in Junhui’s head insists, but he ignores it. “I’ll bring it by your place. I can drop it off. On my way home.”
“I’m about to go to bed,” Minghao says.
Junhui silently curses himself. Of course, it’s like two-thirty in the morning and Minghao probably left so he could sleep. Now that Junhui thinks about it, he can’t recall how long ago Minghao left either. Maybe he’s a bit drunker than he thought.
“Okay,” Junhui tries, “what about tomorrow?”
What are you doing?
There’s a long pause. And then, completely unexpectedly, Minghao says, “Okay.”
“Really?” Junhui asks back.
“Yeah,” Minghao says. “You can drop it off at my place tomorrow afternoon. I won’t be there though,” he adds quickly. “I’m not going to be home till really late so you can just leave it there outside. If you could leave it in a bag or something. I’ll text you my address.”
“Uh, I’m on Soonyoung’s phone,” Junhui explains weakly. “I don’t have your number.”
More silence.
“I’ll text it to this phone and then you can forward it to yourself,” Minghao finally says.
“Okay,” Junhui says, dazed.
“Okay,” Minghao says back. “Ah, uh, thanks.”
Before Junhui can think of anything else to say, Minghao hangs up.
--
Junhui brings the scarf home with him. He carries it on his lap in the car as he drives back from the party. There’s something about the texture-- it’s so soft. He finds that he can’t stop playing with material as he makes his way back home.
--
It’s true that Minghao and Junhui have a weird thing. Junhui can’t explain it and he has no idea where it came from, but if he has any excuse, he can at least say that it’s always been mutual.
They met for the first time at a bar that Joshua and Seungcheol had dragged each of them to, respectively, and they’d been introduced, hi, hello, nice to meet you, and Junhui had suspected it was the bar atmosphere and pounding music that had gotten in the way of them clicking, but when they met for the second time at a picnic for Seungcheol’s work and they still didn’t have much of anything to say to each other, other than the polite yes, we’ve met, I remember you, and nods and smiles, and Junhui had suspected that maybe it was all of the running around and excitement of the event that may have distracted them from really talking, and then the third time they’d seen each other Junhui was getting into the elevator at work and Minghao was leaving after visiting Soonyoung and he’d joined Junhui in the elevator and they both definitely remembered each other but once the doors closed a blanket of stifling awkwardness had descended over the space and they’d just stood there in silent discomfort, Junhui trying to decide where the hell he was supposed to look and praying for the elevator to move just a little bit faster and then they’d gotten to the bottom floor and Minghao had just walked out without saying a word or without even tossing a glance over his shoulder and that was it, Junhui knew that was it, they were never really going to be friends.
--
Junhui finds the apartment with relative ease and is standing in the hallway, feeling sort of silly as he places the scarf (carefully wrapped in an H&M bag) onto the floor in front of Minghao’s door, when the door swings open.
Thanking jesus that he didn’t yelp in surprise, Junhui looks up from where he’s bent down.
Minghao stands in front of him, doorknob in hand.
“I thought you weren’t going to be here,” Junhui says without thinking.
Minghao looks impassive. “My schedule changed.”
They stand in their strange tableau for maybe ten seconds more before Minghao asks, “Would you like some tea?” and Junhui nods and unfolds from his crouch.
“Here,” Junhui says, handing the bag to Minghao as he walks across the threshold. Minghao takes the bag and disappears down a hallway for a second. He returns without the bag, heading to the kitchen and putting a kettle on the stove.
Junhui deposits himself at a seat by the kitchen counter and takes in the layout of the apartment. It’s not too big but nicely laid out, clearly carefully taken care of, with an impressively clean kitchen.
“What kind of tea?” Minghao asks.
“What do you have?”
Minghao opens up a cabinet and there’s, like, a lot of kinds of tea.
“Uh,” Junhui falters, “whatever you’re having.”
Minghao doesn’t say anything, just takes out mugs and begins making the drinks. Junhui takes a deep breath and gears himself up to speak.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the party,” he says.
Minghao’s back, turned towards Junhui, freezes. Junhui for a second wonders if they should be having this conversation in Mandarin, then pushes the thought away so he can finish the statement. “I just wanted to say that. It was out of line, they shouldn’t have punished me with something like that.”
The kettle begins to whistle. Minghao’s back unfreezes, and he makes the tea. He moves the kettle back on the stove, then brings the mugs over and sits down so that there’s a seat separating him from Junhui.
“Thanks,” Junhui says, letting the mug warm his hands.
He can’t tell if Minghao is being quiet out of discomfort or if he’s always this reticent. Even though they see each other at group things all the time, he’s never really interacted with Minghao enough to have a good idea.
“Sometimes,” Minghao begins after they sip their tea for a moment, “I think the others get some weird ideas about me.” Now that he’s hearing it clearly for the first time, Junhui realizes, Minghao has an accent when he speaks in Korean. It’s unexpectedly endearing.
“Like what?”
“Like...” Minghao looks down into his tea, “they kind of make me out to be some super virgin, or something.”
Junhui tries not to laugh at that. He’ll admit, Minghao does seem sort of...innocent.
“It would be okay if you were,” Junhui says, trying not to be rude. “A...a super virgin.”
“Or,” Minghao adds, “they act like I’m really sexually frustrated or whatever. Like, I’ve never had a good lay.”
Junhui does laugh this time. He tries not to show how surprised he is by that kind of language coming from Minghao. “That’s kind of insulting for them to say, don’t you think? That you’ve never had a good lay?”
Minghao looks away, but his cheeks are dusted pink.
Oh.
Jesus.
The air turns serious.
“Um,” Junhui says.
“I have,” Minghao says, but no more.
“Okay,” Junhui nods. He’s not even sure what they’re talking about.
Silence.
“But, ah,” Minghao tells his tea, “I don’t think the...guys...I was...with....always knew what they were...doing.”
Junhui’s stomach drops.
“Did they,” Junhui carefully forms his words, tries not to sound condescending, “...hurt you?”
Minghao still won’t look at him. “It’s not like it was the worst,” he says, and Junhui suddenly feels anger burning inside him for these men who carelessly fucked Minghao, probably just seeking out their own pleasure.
“So you’ve never...” Junhui gestures at the air, confused at his own meaning, but Minghao seems to get it.
He shakes his head. He looks so embarassed.
And Junhui just--
“I can do that,” he says it before he can even process his own offer. “I can do that with you.” He gestures awkwardly again. “Whatever you didn’t, um, get.”
Minghao’s head snaps up from his tea. He looks at Junhui with wide eyes.
Oh God. “You can say no,” Junhui almost chokes out. Jesus, he’s just propositioned someone who isn’t interested. What is wrong with him? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--“
“Okay,” Minghao interrupts.
Junhui halts himself. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Minghao says with a determined look. “Let’s do it.”
--
Once, Junhui had walked into Soonyoung’s workspace to find Soonyoung and Minghao laughing uproariously-- Minghao leaning up against Soonyoung, practically crying from laughing so hard.
Junhui had immediately backpedaled out of the room, thankfully escaping without being noticed.
When Junhui had come around again a while later, Soonyoung had brought it up.
“Hey, did you try to come by earlier? I thought maybe you did when Minghao was here, but I was kinda distracted.”
“No, I was here,” Junhui said. “I just left quickly. Sorry,” he added. “Sorry if I, uh, interrupted something.”
“What?” Soonyoung’s eyebrows raised comically. “What are you talking about?” He paused. “Wait-- with Minghao?”
Junhui gestured pathetically. “I didn’t realize you two...”
Soonyoung burst into a cackle. “Dude! Oh my god.” He clutched at his stomach.
Junhui looked on in confusion.
“Noooooo way,” Soonyoung gasped. “No shade on Minghao but no, no, no way. We’re just friends.”
“Oh.” Junhui said.
“Dude, it’s all good. You just got the wrong idea, it happens.”
He walked over to Junhui and clapped him on the shoulder. “But no harm done. Now, let’s go get wasted.”
--
The thing about making a formal agreement to have sex is that the starting part is sort of inherently awkward. At least, this is what Junhui learns when he offers to sleep with Minghao, and Minghao agrees, and then they’re left having to figure out the logistics. Then Junhui then has to ask uncomfortable and profoundly unsexy questions such as “Are we doing this...now?” and Minghao has to think about it and then say, “I don’t know, do you want to?” and then they have to have a really weird moment where they both consider whether it seems like a good afternoon to have sex with each other, before Junhui says, “why don’t we just go for it” and Minghao nods and they both put down their teas and Junhui trails Minghao to his bedroom.
--
Minghao stands in front of his bed like he’s not sure he belongs there. Junhui can see Minghao’s fingers fidgeting, trying to figure out where they should go, if they should be stuffed into his pockets or linked together at his front or maybe hidden behind his back.
Junhui closes the bedroom door and observes the other and is, for the first time, hit with an appreciation for Minghao. Maybe it’s his nervous energy that draws Junhui’s eyes to him in this moment, but Junhui has never really looked at Minghao. Now that he’s looking, he can see those things about Minghao that other people probably find sexy: his lean figure, his hands peeking out from the overlong sleeves of his oversized sweater, his big eyes, his small, cute nose.
On impulse, Junhui crowds up into Minghao’s space.
Minghao immediately recoils a bit in surprise, then pulls himself back towards Junhui, like a magnet that was momentarily confused.
Junhui’s face is very close to Minghao’s, and he wants to ask all kinds of questions like, do we kiss? who’s going to do what? how long should this go on for?, but then he decides to give them both a break and stop the questions.
So he breathes “Hey,” and waits for Minghao to lift his gaze and make eye contact, and then he leans forward and kisses him.
The first kiss is a bumping of lips together, barely feels like anything, a sort of trial kiss. They break apart and Junhui leans in and repeats the action, this time a bit longer, and it makes a bit more sense this time, their lips fit together a little bit better. Junhui can feel that Minghao’s lips are very, very soft.
They break apart and Junhui kisses him a third time, and when their lips meet, something clicks. It feels good-- it feels right. The longer their lips are pressed together, the better it feels. Jesus, Junhui thinks, that feels good. Junhui presses closer and fuck, he thinks, that feels really really good. It throws him so off kilter that he pulls away and takes a deep breath and before Minghao can even open his eyes he dives in to kiss him again just to be sure but fuck it still feels so good, where is that feeling even coming from?
Then it feels like it would be totally wrong to moves their mouths apart, to stop kissing for even a moment, and Minghao makes some noise, some very quiet moan and it sets off a spark in Junhui and he presses in closer, harder, and then he’s wrapping around Minghao and Minghao is wrapping around him, and he begins to take in the sensation of Minghao’s lean body against his own, enjoying how his arms feel wrapped around Minghao’s smaller frame, delighting unexpectedly in the realization that he can probably pick Minghao up with ease.
So he does: he secures his arms around Minghao’s torso and lifts him up off the ground. Minghao squeaks against Junhui’s mouth and tightens his arms around Junhui’s neck, but then he wraps his legs around Junhui’s middle, and Junhui thinks he almost passes out.
--
Once, Junhui and Minghao had run into each other outside of a group get-together, just each of them out on their own, at a bar near Junhui’s work.
“Hey,” Minghao greeted. Junhui was surprised by how happy Minghao seemed to be to say hello to Junhui.
“Hey,” Junhui said, straightening up. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the music. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here with Soonyoung,” Minghao shouted. Junhui still could barely hear him.
“I’m here with someone too,” Junhui shouted back, smiling. He’d been invited to hang out with Wonwoo, a friend of Mingyu’s who was new to the group. They’d all heard a great deal about said Wonwoo before getting to meet him. Actually, Junhui was sort of excited to be the one to introduce him to Minghao, like he had dibs on the introduction or something.
Minghao’s face fell. “Oh,” he said, not shouting this time, “you are?”
“Yeah,” Junhui couldn’t believe they were all running into each other like this. “Hey, you should meet him. You’re not going to believe who it is. This is such a weird coincidence. Hey!” He turned and shouted in the direction of Wonwoo, who was over by the pool table.
Wonwoo turned to look at him. “Get over here!” Junhui hollered, but when he turned back to tell Minghao to say, it’s fucking Wonwoo, can you believe this guy actually exists? Yeah, I thought Mingyu was making it up too, Minghao was gone.
--
Junhui carefully moves the both of them onto the bed, keeping Minghao’s legs wrapped around him. He presses Minghao down into the mattress, and the feeling of it is perfect-- it’s like they fit together or something.
“You feel so good,” Junhui can’t help but break the kiss to say.
Minghao turns a deep red, and his grip tightens on Junhui’s shirt.
“Sorry,” Junhui fumbles. “Should I not talk? I don’t want to make you--“
“No, it’s okay,” Minghao says. “I don’t-- it’s just, it’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s true,” Junhui says, confused. Why else would he say it?
“There’s, um,” Minghao’s gaze darts to the bedside table, “stuff in there,” and Junhui’s mind moves away from their conversation as he leans over to reach the drawer, careful not to separate himself too much from Minghao as he does it.
--
“MOVIE NIGHT!” Mingyu bellowed as he crashed through the doorway of Jeonghan’s apartment.
Everyone present cheered, and Mingyu rushed in to high-five everyone like he’d just won a marathon.
“Junhui, come here and help me with this,” Jeonghan called from where he was preparing mixed drinks at the counter. Junhui got up, laughing as Mingyu tripped over a six-pack sitting on the floor.
“Are we going to shout it every time?” Jeonghan asked under his breath once Junhui was near.
“Tradition,” Junhui reasoned. Another crash sounded through the doorway.
“MOVIE NIGHT!” Soonyoung shrieked, hilariously scaring Minghao, who he’d walked in with.
Everyone cheered again, and Jeonghan rolled his eyes and turned back to the counter. “Heathens,” he muttered.
“First movie night?” Junhui asked, indicating his head towards Minghao, who was attempting to select a seat somewhere in the kitchen without sitting down on anyone.
Jeonghan didn’t seem to hear. “Anyway,” Junhui continued, “don’t worry too much about tonight, cause...” Hansol, laid out under the table, suddenly kicked at Minghao’s ankles as he passed by. Minghao squeaked in surprise. Wonwoo and Mingyu laughed from where they sat smushed together into a nearby corner. ”Because...” Minghao rolled his eyes at Wonwoo and Mingyu when he spotted them laughing. Junhui smiled.
“...Yes?” Jeonghan prompted.
“What?” Junhui turned back around.
“Don’t worry about tonight, because...”
Right. “Because,” Junhui started up again, “they’ll all be asleep like twenty minutes into the movie.”
“Jesus, I hope so,” Jeonghan said.
“MOVIE NAAAIIIIGHHHT!” Seungcheol howled as he entered the apartment, and Minghao jolted again in his seat. Junhui turned back to the counter and laughed as Jeonghan mimed drinking the entire mixer in his hand.
--
Junhui moves lube and a condom onto the bed beside them, just keeping it near, trying not to rush Minghao. When their gazes meet, though, Minghao’s eyes are wide.
Even though Junhui has committed himself to this, isn’t going to back out anytime soon, Minghao keeps clutching at Junhui’s shirt from beneath him, like he thinks Junhui’s going to try and run away.
“Gē,” Minghao switches to Mandarin in a tiny voice, and he seems younger and more scared than Junhui’s ever seen him. “I’m nervous.”
“Me too,” Junhui admits. “I’m scared too.”
--
“We are this arcade’s worst nightmare,” Junhui murmured as he watched eleven of his adult male friends run shrieking towards the games, pushing and shoving each other along the way.
“At least we rented it out,” Joshua said from beside him.
Some machine near them buzzed loudly and began a clanging theme song, and Joshua clutched at his forehead. “Hey, remind me to never again drink the night before we show up to a place full of loud noises and flashing lights.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Most everyone had disappeared to some game or other, but Junhui could spot Minghao playing Soonyoung nearby in some racecar-driving game. Minghao leapt into one of the bucket seats, smiling. Soonyoung dove into his seat like a canonball.
“I got this feeling like I was kind of rude last night. Was I rude last night?” Joshua asked suddenly, looking nervous about the answer.
“Sort of,” Junhui conceded, recalling Joshua’s somewhat irritating attempts to resist help as Seungkwan and Jeonghan attempted ot walk him home the night before.
Joshua groaned and hid his face in his hands.
Nearby, Soonyoung shouted some sort of discouragement to Minghao. Minghao maneuvered a leg out of his seat as he drove and kicked at Soonyoung sideways.
“Hey,” Junhui said. “You’re not a bad guy. In fact, you’re an awesome guy. You just kinda become difficult when you’re drunk. No one hates you for it.”
“That makes me feel better,” Joshua admitted after some silence.
Minghao had apparently won the driving game: he stood up to do a victory dance around Soonyoung, waving his hands and the air and cheering. Soonyoung rolled his eyes, then kicked at the game console with a look of betrayal.
“Let me know when you’re ready to play something,” Junhui told Joshua as he watched them. “If that time ever comes.”
“If it does, I’ll let you know,” Joshua said. “Did you have a game in mind?”
“Maybe the racecars?” Junhui offered.
“Sure.”
--
“Should we...” Junhui gasps, breaking from the kiss, trying to form words while distracted by the feeling of his hips being cradled between Minghao’s legs, “...take some of this off?”
Minghao looks unsure, but he thinks about it, and nods.
“Only if you want to,” Junhui follows up.
“I do,” Minghao says. It seems they’ll just be sticking to Mandarin now. That’s not a problem for Junhui.
He suspects that Minghao is still uncomfortable sharing himself, though, so Junhui tries to remedy it by kissing him while running his hands up under the hem of Minghao’s sweater, by carefully pushing the sweater up and then sliding his body down to lay kisses across Minghao’s abdomen. Minghao’s hands fly into Junhui’s hair. Minghao’s hands, stomach, entire body, tremble beneath Junhui’s lips.
As he places more kisses, Junhui runs his hands up and down Minghao’s torso, roaming and covering as much skin as he can. It’s going to be okay, he tries to say through through his touch. Minghao’s breathing is harsh, coming almost a little too fast, from above him.
Until Junhui unthinkingly runs a hand over Minghao’s side, and Minghao squeaks.
They both freeze.
Junhui raises his head to make eye contact. Minghao looks caught out.
Junhui runs his hand over the spot just to be sure, and Minghao squeaks again and curls away from the touch.
Junhui draws back, assessing.
When he reaches for that spot a third time, Minghao jerks away and covers it with a hand.
“Minghao,” Junhui says slowly, “are you ticklish.”
Minghao lets out a miserable moan.
Junhui can’t help the smile blooming across his face. “Minghao,” he says, trying to sound innocent, but he knows his true intent is clear. Minghao must catch on, because he hastily tries to roll away and cover both of his sides, but it’s a second too late.
Junhui pounces, tickling wherever he can reach. Minghao can’t possibly defend himself on all fronts, and he’s giggling uncontrollably, squirming to escape.
“Gē!” He shrieks, laughing through it. “Gē-- gē! Don’t-- don’t-- Ah!” He slips into manic laughter as Junhui cages him in with his limbs and tickles relentlessly.
Junhui stops for a moment just to fake him out, giving Minghao a second of mistaken relief, before diving in one more time. Minghao lets out a really loud and surprised final squeak, which Junhui thinks is probably the cutest thing he’s ever heard, and then Junhui backs off.
When Minghao finally is able to reach an edge of his comforter, he wraps himself in it immediately, like it’s some kind of protocol for tickling emergencies. He visibly relaxes once he’s in his blanket burrito, catching his breath.
“I can get that blanket back off,” Junhui warns, delighted.
“Truce,” Minghao begs.
Junhui lets himself laugh, real laughter that feels good, and Minghao bites his lip like he’s holding back laughter too.
Junhui leans back towards Minghao, making a hands-off “no more tickling, promise” gesture when Minghao automatically recoils. Minghao lets him near and Junhui helps Minghao unroll from the blanket.
Minghao emerges ruffled and flushed and breathing heavy, still curled in on himself.
Junhui lowers himself back down onto Minghao, wrapping around him, covering him, surrounding him. Minghao freezes for a second but then exhales shakily. This time, he receives Junhui’s kiss easily.
--
Not long after Wonwoo had been introduced to the group, he’d come to visit Junhui at the office for quality hang-out time, bringing lunch with him. Which turned into quality work and eating time, Wonwoo bringing his laptop along.
“Have you met everyone now?” Junhui asked, filling in yet another form.
“I think so,” Wonwoo said. “Finally met Hansol and Seokmin and Minghao a couple days ago. And that guy Minghao was with, whatshisname, I can’t remember. Anyway, everyone’s pretty chill.”
Junhui paused his writing. “What guy?”
“Huh?” Wonwoo stuffed another fry in his mouth.
“The guy Minghao was with.”
Wonwoo shrugged, eyes on his laptop screen. “You know, that guy. Minghao brought him when we met. You don’t know who I’m talking about?”
“No, I don’t. Minghao brought him to meet you?”
“Nah, he just happened to be there.” Wonwoo grabbed another fry.
That didn’t make any sense to Junhui. “What was he like?”
“Minghao?” Wonwoo asked.
“The guy,” Junhui clarified, slightly irritated.
Wonwoo contemplated. “I didn’t speak to him for long. Um, nice, I guess. Dark hair. He shook my hand. So that’s good manners, probably.”
“Right,” Junhui said.
“I can’t remember his name though,” Wonwoo repeated. “He had an arm around Minghao all night. That’s mostly what I remember.”
“Sounds like a tool,” Junhui said, returning to his paperwork.
“Ha!” Wonwoo chortled. “Maybe. He seemed okay for the most part, though.”
Junhui couldn’t think of anything else to add, so he focused on his work.
--
It’s easier to undress once they’re both more relaxed, but it still takes a great deal of care. Junhui strips off his own clothes quickly, but he takes his time and lays kisses on practically every part of Minghao as he’s revealed. Sweater, nothing beneath; jeans, underwear beneath.
Minghao’s body is so pleasing underneath his clothes, much more pleasing than Junhui had ever stopped to imagine. He’s pale and lean, of course, but he’s also got a strange mix of strength and fragility that draws Junhui in. Junhui can see the muscle, the results of working hard at some physical activity, but he can also feel the softness and smoothness of Minghao’s skin, the sensitivity of some spots, the places that makes Minghao jump or gasp when he’s kissed there. The combination of all of it is so fucking attractive.
“Wait, wait,” Minghao says when Junhui places his hands on Minghao’s hips, right above the line of his boxers. Junhui thinks maybe Minghao isn’t ready to get completely undressed. But instead of seeming embarassed, he seems captivated by the sight of Junhui. He runs his eyes over Junhui’s chest and gently touches Junhui’s shoulders and arms, as if he’s not sure if he’s allowed to.
“You’re amazing,” Minghao eventually says. His tone is awed.
Junhui actually blushes. “Thank you,” he mutters.
Minghao nods, letting Junhui return to finish undressing him.
As soon as Junhui slides off Minghao’s final article of clothing, his underwear, Junhui buries his face in Minghao’s crotch. It seems to surprise Minghao, sinces he jolts at the contact, but Junhui doesn’t want there to be a single doubt in Minghao’s mind that Junhui wants this with him. The sensation of it feels good to Junhui; he even rubs his face against Minghao’s cock, enjoying Minghao’s gasp.
Minghao is hard and it excites Junhui, who realized somewhere in the back of his mind throughout this whole thing that he was turned on-- but now he feels on fire at the sight of Minghao completely naked, and he wants to be closer, closer, closer.
Junhui decides to just go for it since he’s already down there and enjoying himself-- he licks and places wet kisses, and Minghao arches beneath him. His hands return to Junhui’s hair. Junhui wonders if Minghao’s ever gotten a good blow job.
When he takes Minghao into his mouth, Minghao makes a beautiful noise.
--
“You gotta come to the party, hyung!” Seokmin insisted for the sixtieth time.
Junhui ignored him for the sixtieth time, instead examining his menu.
“Don’t you want to come?” Seokmin tried again. “It’s Christmas! And Christmas is great. So it won’t be so bad for an office party!”
“Where is our server,” Junhui mumbled, just to be difficult.
Seokmin didn’t give up. “Come on hyung-- everyone cool is going to be there!”
Junhui raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And who’s cool?”
“Well, you and me if we go,” Seokmin said with a cheeky smile, and Junhui rolled his eyes. “But for real, almost everyone we know, even Wonwoo, and everyone’s friends and their friends, and a lot of people are probably bringing dates.”
Junhui looked up from his menu. “Who’s bringing a date?”
“I don’t know,” Seokmin said, “but that doesn’t matter. Because single people will be there too!”
Before Junhui could decipher his meaning, Seokmin made it explicit.
“Come on, hyung! It’s time for you to get back on the horse.”
Junhui froze.
“Excuse me?”
“Get back on the horse!” Seokmin repeated.
The server chose that moment to come by and drop off glasses of water at the table.
“I never fell off the horse,” Junhui corrected, incredulous, once the server had left. “What are you talking about? I haven’t broken up with someone in a really long time.”
“I know,” Seokmin admitted sheepishly.
“And I do date,” Junhui added, unsure of why he felt slightly embarassed.
“But you don’t really anymore!” Seokmin insisted. “That’s the thing! You haven’t dated in like so long.”
“I date,” Junhui said again, but once Seokmin had said it, he realized that he hadn’t been on a date in several months. Maybe not even half a year, actually.
Seokmin gave him a skeptical look, and Junhui knew he’d lost.
“So,” the younger announced, circling back to his point with pride, “you need to get back on the horse! Come to the party on Friday and meet people and maybe ask someone out!”
“We’ll see,” Junhui said.
--
Minghao’s fingers tangle in Junhui hair, tugging, as Junhui blows him. Junhui gives attention to the head, then the base, then back to the head of Minghao’s cock, before he takes all of Minghao in his mouth again.
Minghao suddenly yanks on Junhui’s hair. “Wait wait wait,” he gasps. Junhui looks up.
“If you-- if you keep going-- I’ll be done,” Minghao explains, looking kind of embarassed.
It takes Junhui a moment to process Minghao’s meaning.
“We don’t have to be done after just once,” Junhui offers carefully.
Minghao holds eyes contact as he breathes harshly and seems to think about what Junhui’s saying; finally, he nods and drops his head back onto the pillow. Junhui takes Minghao into his mouth again, lowering himself as far as he can go. Minghao bucks up into his mouth, gasping loudly.
Minghao yanks again especially hard when he’s about to come, and Junhui hooks an arm under one of Minghao’s thighs, taking as much of Minghao in as possible.
--
“I need a break, I need a break!” Junhui laughed, tugging away from Chan to escape the dance floor.
“Hyung, come on! We’re just getting started!” Chan pleaded.
“I’m old, Chan,” Junhui explained. “I need things like intervals of rest. And water.”
Chan rolled his eyes but followed, asking for a glass of water at the bar like Junhui had. As they waited, they both turned and leaned against the bar, watching the others dance.
Soon after, Jeonghan and Seungkwan jogged off the dance floor to join them.
“Hansol keeps trying to start dance battles with people,” Jeonghan explained, catching his breath. “We had to get outta there.”
Junhui ‘ahhed’ knowingly. “Pro tip,” he offered, “next time, go request a Drake song from the DJ. That’ll distract him.”
Chan nodded. “He won’t be able to focus on a dance battle if he’s listening to his future--“
“His future husband,” the other three chorused. Seungkwan made a face like he was questioning the choices that had lead him to this moment.
“Minghao’s a much better dancer than I realized,” Jeonghan observed suddenly.
They all turned their attention to where Minghao was moving on the dance floor.
“Who’s the guy he’s dancing with?” Chan asked.
Jeonghan shrugged.
“Don’t know,” Seungkwan said.
Chan looked to Junhui.
“No clue,” Junhui admitted.
“They dance well together,” Seungkwan said.
“Wait, didn’t Minghao say he dances at a studio or something?” Jeonghan asked.
“Maybe that’s where the guy is from,” Chan guessed. “From the studio.”
At that moment, the bartender dropped two glasses of water off at Junhui’s elbow.
Junhui straightened up and grabbed his jacket off a nearby stool. “Actually, I’m going.”
Seungkwan’s head whipped around. “Already?”
Junhui stuffed his phone into his jacket pocket. “I’m exhausted. Think I’m done for the night.”
Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “You alright?”
“Just tired,” Junhui said. He turned to Chan. “You want a ride home?”
Chan shook his head, looking slightly confused.
“Suit yourself. Have fun.”
Junhui left the bar.
--
Junhui rests his head against the inside of Minghao’s thigh as Minghao gasps, coming down from his orgasm.
More than anything, he just wants to be face to face with Minghao and kiss him again, but he holds back, not sure if that’s called for. Instead, Junhui reluctantly moves himself out of the cradle of Minghao’s hips and slides up the sheets so that he’s beside Minghao.
Minghao turns on his side, his face planted in his pillow, as he catches his breath. Junhui tries not to crowd up too close behind him, tries not to randomly spoon him.
“How was that?” Junhui asks. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to ask.
A breathy sound comes from Minghao. Then another. Then another.
It takes a second for Junhui to realize that Minghao is laughing.
“Seriously?” he says to Junhui. “Fuck.”
He turns his head back to face Junhui as he says it, but as he does it his ass brushes up against Junhui’s very erect cock, and Junhui lets out an involuntary moan.
They both freeze.
“Does that...feel good?” Minghao asks carefully.
Junhui swallows, and nods.
Minghao shifts himself backwards and presses his back flush against Junhui’s front. Junhui unsuccessfully tries not to moan as he does it. At the sound, Minghao reaches an arm back and lays it on Junhui hip, pulling Junhui closer so that his cock is nestled in between Minghao’s ass cheeks. Junhui gasps, loudly, this time.
Minghao begins to move back and forth so that he’s grinding up against Junhui’s cock, and jesus, this might be more than Junhui can handle.
--
“Will you pick up the cake for the surprise?” Jihoon asked.
“Of course,” Junhui said, taking a sip of his coffee. He burrowed a little deeper into the collar of his coat. “When do I get it?”
“It should be ready a couple hours before the party, maybe five or something. But don’t leave work early or Soonyoung’ll know.”
“Right. I’ll grab it around six then.” Junhui peeked into a store window, some clothing retailer, as they passed it.
“Will you pick up Minghao on the way?” Jihoon asked. “Before or after the cake, doesn’t matter. He’ll have some of the other food and needs a ride but I can’t take him. I’m getting the decorations.”
“Oh,” Junhui said, pausing for a second, then unpausing and shuffling a bit to catch back up with Jihoon. “Alright, sure.”
Jihoon snorted. ”Alright, sure,” he mimicked back in a low tone, apparently imitating Junhui. “Come on, man. Don’t think I don’t know about whatever it is with you two.”
“What?” Junhui asked. “What whatever?”
“You guys haven’t gotten along since you met. It’s so obvious.” Jihoon rolled his eyes. “You always keep, like, ten feet apart at all times.”
Junhui frowned.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Jihoon prompted. He took a gulp of coffee.
“We’re not best friends or anything,” Junhui groused. Who even cared how he got along with Minghao? It wasn’t anyone’s business.
“Just get the cake, and, like, don’t you and Minghao kill each other on the fifteen minute ride from his place to mine. You think you can do that?”
“It’s not like that,” Junhui said, affronted.
“Just say you can,” Jihoon said, already having moved on.
Junhui sighed. “I can.”
“Alright,” Jihoon said. He fished his iPod out of his pocket. “Now, look at the playlist I put together for the party and tell me it looks amazing.”
--
Junhui builds his pace until he’s thrusting against Minghao’s ass. He can feel sweat everywhere they’re touching-- where his front is plastered up against Minghao’s back, where he’s got an arm wrapped around Minghao’s chest to keep him close, at the roots of his hair through where Junhui runs his fingers. His hair is so soft.
Minghao tips his head back so that Junhui can run his fingers through again, and Junhui does, except that after he does he grabs a fistful of hair and gently pulls Minghao’s head back. Minghao groans, and Junhui latches his mouth onto Minghao’s neck and suck a hickey there. Minghao keens beneath him.
“Jesus,” Junhui can’t help but say when he pulls away, “you’re so hot. Minghao.” He thrusts even harder and even though Minghao just came, it must be doing something for him too, since he gasps and gasps and fists one hand in the sheets and lays the other over Junhui’s hand on his chest, gripping hard.
As Minghao arches his back against Junhui’s front, moaning and holding onto Junhui’s hand like he can’t let go, Junhui thinks that whoever met Minghao and earned their way into his bed and then blew it by failing to please him was really a fucking fool.
Minghao guides Junhui’s hand down so that their overlapped hands are gripping Minghao’s cock, which is hard again, and Junhui buries his face in the crook of Minghao’s neck and comes so hard that he sees stars.
--
“Don’t hurt yourselves,” Seungcheol warned the small group that had broken away to play tag-- Junhui, Soonyoung, Chan, Mingyu, and Hansol-- in the woods at the edge of the park.
“This isn’t a work picnic, so you can’t boss us around,” Soonyoung sassed. Mingyu giggled from behind him. “It’s just a friend picnic.”
“Of course,” Seungcheol deadpanned, a friend picnic. What ever was I thinking. I see now that I hold no authority here.”
“That’s RIGHT you don’t!” Soonyoung hollered, and Chan, Mingyu, and Hansol whooped.
Soonyoung stuck his tongue out. Jun snickered.
“Children,” Seungcheol murmured to himself, turning away, and their little group ran towards the woods.
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” Hansol told Junhui threateningly just as they were about to begin.
“Jesus,” Junhui said, startled. “We’ll see, I guess.”
Ten minutes later, as Junhui picked himself up off the ground after being rather aggressively tagged, he conceded that Hansol had followed through on the promised ass-kicking. Junhui’d even scraped his elbow on a rock as he tried to catch himself while falling.
“I’m out for a minute!” Junhui yelled to the group, grimacing as his fingers came away from his elbow bloody. “Someone else is it!”
“Loser!” He thought he heard Soonyoung yell from the distance, but he ignored it.
He trudged back to the picnic area, cradling his elbow against his chest. The only person seated atop their haphazard layering of blankets in the middle of the clearing was Minghao.
“What’s up?” Junhui said, settling himself down a blanket away from Minghao.
Minghao’s eyes followed Junhui’s elbow. “You okay?” he asked, ignoring Junhui’s question.
“I’m fine,” Junhui said. “Just a scrape. Figured I should clean the blood off before getting back out there.”
“Hold on,” Minghao said, turning around and rooting through the pile where everyone had dropped their bags.
Junhui held on.
A moment later, Minghao emerged with a first aid kit.
“Come here,” he said.
Junhui picked himself up and dropped himself back off in front of Minghao, who leaned forward and took Junhui’s arm in his hand. Junhui jolted, surprised. They’d never been this close to each other before.
Minghao assessed the scrape, then returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a gauze pad. Without a word, he wet it with a water bottle and reached out to hold Junhui’s elbow, gauze pad ready.
“Oh no, it’s okay,” Junhui said quickly, having realized Minghao’s intent, “you don’t have to--“
“It’s okay,” Minghao said, and he seemed so confident, so Junhui let it go. He let Minghao handle him, moving him just so in order to clean the scrape, then to put on disinfectant that he pulled out of the kit, and then a fresh bandaid. Minghao’s hold on his elbow, and his touch as he cleaned the wound, were gentle the entire time.
“Thanks,” Junhui said awkwardly once Minghao had finished and was packing the first aid kit up again. He cradled his elbow up against his chest again.
Minghao just nodded.
“Where is everyone else?” Junhui asked.
“Frisbee,” Minghao said, nodding towards his right.
Junhui spotted a group of figures in the distance, one of them clutching a frisbee as another chased after them, some others tackling the chaser. No one was actually using the frisbee as a frisbee. Yup, that would be their friends.
“You going back?” Minghao asked at some point, breaking Junhui from his reverie.
“Huh?”
“To tag.”
Junhui thought about it. “Nah, I’ll just stay here for awhile.”
--
Junhui can’t help it-- as his breathing slows, he wraps both arms tight around Minghao’s chest. He hopes he isn’t hurting Minghao. Minghao doesn’t seem to mind, laying an arm over Junhui’s and breathing harshly along too, like he was the one who’d just come.
“Fuck,” Minghao finally says again. “God.” Junhui laughs.
“Tissue,” he requests, and Minghao leans foward within Junhui’s arms to reach the bedside table. He hands a tissue back to Junhui, who reluctantly removes an arm from his hold and cleans the come off of Minghao’s back. He then throws the tissue down to the floor. He aims so that it lands on his own clothing, though, so that it’s not so rude.
“Hey,” Junhui says, when he feels ready to speak actual words. “Turn around.”
Minghao rotates so that they’re facing each other.
Junhui kises him: soft, simple, gentle. Minghao kisses back, just as soft, just as gentle; and it does seem simple, it seems like the simplest thing in the world.
When they pull apart and lock eyes and the directness, the vulnerability, of it is nearly unbearable; it’s like looking into the sun. Minghao’s gaze is trusting, relaxed, like he knows he’ll be completely fine in Junhui’s hands. He holds Junhui’s gaze.
“Fuck me,” he breathes. “Gē.”
And the answer, Junhui thinks, is simple after all.
Junhui nods back.
--
Minghao hands Junhui the lube with hands that don’t shake; Junhui accepts it with hands that do.
They’re still laying on their sides, facing each other. Junhui gently guides Minghao’s leg so that it’s draped over Junhui’s. Minghao shuffles closer, and it occurs to Junhui that it won’t take long for him to get hard again with Minghao’s erection pressing against him.
He preps Minghao carefully, fingering him slowly, slowly, slowly; he revels of the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out, in Minghao’s responses. One finger and Minghao adjusts, his face screws up a bit; two fingers and he begins to move his body with Junhui’s rhythm; three fingers and Junhui brushes a spot inside that makes Minghao’s whole body jolt. Junhui carries on touching that spot until an edge of desperation begins to bleed into Minghao’s pleas.
“Gē,” Minghao gasps as Junhui presses up against his prostate again. “Gē, please.”
“Alright, okay,” Junhui breathes back, but he thinks maybe he’s talking to himself more than to Minghao. He gingerly removes his fingers, and moves so that he’s sitting with his back against the headboard.
When Minghao seems ready, Junhui carefully maneuvers him onto his lap. He tries to be careful; he feels like he’s handling something exceptionally fragile.
“Okay?” Junhui asks once Minghao is settled.
Minghao bites his lip, then nods. “Okay.”
Junhui splays a hand on each side of Minghao’s ribs and helps lift Minghao, so that he’s lined up with Junhui’s cock; and then slowly, slowly lowers him back down again. When Junhui first enters him, Minghao’s face freezes, and his breathing halts.
“Okay?” Junhui asks, pausing everything.
Minghao’s eyes are closed. He nods hastily.
“Minghao,” Junhui says. “Look at me.”
Minghao exhales, opens his eyes, and looks into Junhui’s. Junhui has to try really hard not to come right then and there.
--
Junhui draws it out for as long as he can; he doesn’t want it to end.
Slowly, his arms wrapped around the other’s torso, he thrusts up into Minghao; slowly, holding Junhui just as tight, Minghao pushes his body back down against him.
It’s not just the tightness and heat of Minghao around him, it’s everything that comes with it: Minghao’s skin, soft and firm, pressing against Junhui where their bodies meet; Minghao’s quiet, breathy moans as he locks his elbows around Junhui’s neck to keep him close; the heat, the red flush, of Minghao’s chest where Junhui presses his face, fitting his head under Minghao’s chin, holding Minghao tighter, tighter, tighter.
“Oh my fucking god,” Junhui gasps, overwhelmed by sensation. The words pour out of him as he feels his entire body light up. “Oh my fucking god, Minghao.”
Minghao exhales a rush of air and reaches a hand down Junhui’s back, scratches his nails all the way from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck. Junhui groans and mouths at Minghao’s neck. He wants to disappear into Minghao; he wants to be held like this, secure within the circle of Minghao’s arms, and never move.
It becomes hard to make words; difficult to hold still, even to kiss. Junhui can hear from Minghao’s stuttering breaths that he’s close.
Junhui becomes focused on making MInghao come. He makes sure he’s holding MInghao tight and begins to thrust hard, hard, harder, making sure he’s hitting that spot every time, and Minghao falls apart in his arms, begins to tremble, makes unbelievable, magnificent noises.
“Fuck,” Minghao adds, and Junhui realizes that Minghao cursing during sex is basically the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Come on,” Junhui urges. Minghao is shaking now. “Come on, Minghao--“
Minghao reaches a hand into Junhui’s hair, pulls Junhui’s head just a bit back so that they can face each other, and plants a kiss on him.
It feels like being struck by lightning. Minghao comes, and a second later, Junhui follows.
--
They lay there for hours, until the sky begins to brighten through the curtains of Minghao’s bedroom. Junhui doesn’t sleep for a second of it. He can’t tell if Minghao’s also awake for any of it, but Minghao stays very still, his head pillowed on Junhui’s chest the entire time.
Junhui feels something hang in the air between them, something undeniable but inarticulable. He’s too scared to move, too scared that he might break whatever it is if he even exhales too loudly.
Sometime around dawn, just when Junhui’s almost entirely sure Minghao’s fallen asleep, Junhui feels something wet on his collarbone, followed by the rapid brush of eyelashes.
“Minghao,” Junhui says quietly, but Minghao shifts in such a way to further hide his face. Maybe he’d thought Junhui was asleep.
“It’s okay,” Junhui whispers, pulling Minghao closer. After a moment of hesitation, Minghao buries his face in the crook of Junhui’s neck, and Junhui feels more tears. He tightens his hold.
--
On the night that they all vowed to watch the entire Dark Knight trilogy, no really, for real this time, the entire thing, they were gonna make it, it only took forty-five minutes of Batman Begins for everyone to be out cold.
Everyone except Junhui. He was never really into sleeping in public, even if it was around his friends. He was always the one left awake. He scanned the room, observing the domino effect of each of his friends falling asleep onto the next.
Everyone but Junhui and apparently also Minghao, who was seated at the other end of the couch from Junhui, also totally awake. Minghao sat watching the movie with rapt attention, either unaware or unbothered by the slumber party happening around him. Junhui watched as the washed-out tones of the television reflected off of his pale skin.
Minghao suddenly jolted, eyes wide, as an explosion happened on-screen. Junhui almost jolted with him.
Some movement near Junhui broke his attention. He turned to find Jeonghan on the next couch over, shifting where he was laid across Joshua’s torso. Junhui had thought Jeonghan was asleep, but Jeonghan’s eyes were open. He looked at Junhui like he knew something Junhui didn’t.
Junhui turned away and made himself focus on the rest of the movie.
--
“We should get up,” Minghao eventually says.
Junhui can tell from his tone that he means, and leave each other. It’s uncomfortable, at the very least because it sounds, it feels to Junhui like what Minghao really wants to say is the opposite: stay.
But Junhui complies. He gets up, he gets dressed-- he comes up with an excuse.
“I should get home, get some work done,” he says, re-fastening the buttons on his shirt.
Minghao, sitting still naked in the center of his bed, doesn’t say anything back. He suddenly looks incredibly small in the middle of the mattress, practically swimming in a sea of blankets.
“Right,” he finally says.
Junhui feels like his heart is falling out of his chest. He tries to ignore the feeling as Minghao gets up, puts on pants and a shirt, and leads him to the door.
They stand in another tableau at the doorway, but this time, it’s the worst tableau Junhui could’ve imagined.
Junhui refuses to move, refuses to break the silence.
Minghao is the one who does.
“We can hang out sometime soon,” he says in Korean. His smiles, but it looks empty. “We can be friends. Okay?”
Junhui feels empty too. “Okay,” he agrees.
He gets one last look at Minghao before he turns around.
Junhui leaves.
--
Junhui comes back.
”Not okay,” he rushes out in Mandarin as soon as a wide-eyed Minghao opens the door back up. “Not okay, I don’t want to do any of that.”
Minghao stares.
“I don’t hang out sometime soon,” he continues rapidly, “I don’t want things to be casual, I don’t want to pretend like none of this happened.”
“And most of all,” he takes a deep breath, “I don’t want to be friends.” He looks into Minghao’s eyes. Minghao looks stunned. “Because I am not your friend, we are not friends, I am in love with you, I am in love with you, I am totally and completely in love with you.”
Minghao looks like he might pass out.
“It took forever and us fucking for me to figure it out,” Junhui concludes, “and I understand if you never want to talk to me again-- please, just, please don’t ask me to pretend I don’t love you and be your friend. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
Minghao says nothing, just keeps looking at Junhui. He’s starting to look like he might actually, for real, pass out.
“Minghao?” Junhui asks nervously.
Minghao looks extremely pale.
“Minghao, say something,” Junhui pleads.
Minghao’s voice is only a whisper. “Is this for real?”
“What?” Junhui says, caught off guard.
“Is this a joke?” Minghao asks. The words are so soft, but so full of pain.
“What--no,” Junhui says. “Minghao-- why would this be a joke?”
“Everyone knows I love you,” Minghao whispers. His voice only gets quieter. His lower lip trembles. “Please don’t do this if it’s a joke.”
Junhui is so stunned by that, and he doesn’t know what else to do, so he just-- drops to his knees, right there int he doorway, and presses his face to Minghao’s stomach, wrapping his arms around Minghao’s middle.
“Please believe me,” Junhui says, his words muffled by Minghao’s shirt. He can feel Minghao shaking against him. “I love you. I love you.”
Minghao makes a sound, something like a sob, from above him, and then his trembling fingers are reaching down into Junhui’s hair, and then down, down to Junhui’s shoulders, where they squeeze, suddenly urging Junhui up, up, up, up to meet Minghao, to see him, to reach his lips and kiss him, to wrap his arms around him again.
They kiss, and it’s that unbelievable feeling-- that certainty, that perfect fit, that electric spark. Junhui can barely take it all in: Minghao’s soft lips, Minghao’s arms around him, Minghao’s curls pressing against Junhui’s forehead.
“Gē,” Minghao whispers when they pull away, and-- and-- and now Junhui’s the one who’s crying.
Junhui tries not to openly sob, but he can feel himself shaking in Minghao’s hold.
“Hey,” Minghao says. “Hey. Hey. I love you too.” He leans forward and gently presses his lips beneath Junhui eyes, kisses the tears away. “I love you too.”
Junhui nods, rests his forehead against Minghao’s, and closes his eyes.
They hold onto each other forever.
--
“You’re coming tomorrow night, right?”
“What’s tomorrow night?”
“Cheol’s birthday party,” Seungkwan explained. He selected drinks from the fridge beside the register as Junhui paid for the food. “Everyone’s going.”
“Right,” Junhui said. “That’s tomorrow?”
“Sure is.” Seungkwan gave a mischevious smile as he tried to balance all of their food along with the drinks and napkins in his arms. “We’re gonna play that game with all the cards and the twenty-one rounds where you get to dare someone to do something if they lose.”
“I hate that game,” Junhui said.
“You think you hate it, but you’ve never played! You can’t know till you try.” Seungkwan lead them to a table and set their food and drinks down on it. “Anyway, don’t worry, the first time you play, probably nothing will happen. Worst case scenario, you gotta make out with someone.”
Junhui rolled his eyes and sat down. “I’ll come and maybe I’ll play, but only if you agree that I won’t have to kiss anyone.”
“I make no promises,” Seungkwan laughed.
Junhui sighed. “I guess I can make it.”
--