Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rule number one: Just sex, no kissing.

The first time Wonwoo thought about letting Mingyu kiss him, they weren’t having sex, touching, or doing anything remotely sexual.

They were in the dormitory. Mingyu lying next to him while he played some random game on his tablet.

This had been occupying his thoughts lately.

What would it feel like to have those lips he’d seen twisting in moans, touching his mouth? What would that sensation be like?

Sometimes, this thought would reach him in his sleep, and he’d wake up aroused, disturbed by some stupid dream about a kiss. It was always enough to make him get up in the middle of the night, cross the dorm full of guys, and dive under cold water, even though it was freezing.

This stupid desire was consuming Wonwoo. Consuming his thoughts to the point he feared others might notice.

Mingyu, on the other hand, had always been more paranoid about it. He never moaned, even when they were alone. He’d cover Wonwoo’s mouth. He’d sweat cold whenever someone asked about suspicious noises in the dead of night.

But it was Wonwoo who felt watched.

So when some of the members finally left, and the others were passed out from exhaustion on their beds, he realized his chance.

Mingyu was alone in the room. Only Hoshi and Chan were left, sleeping in a separate room.

Wonwoo leaned against the doorframe, watching Mingyu. The younger hadn’t noticed his presence immediately, absorbed in organizing things.

His dark hair was messy, and Mingyu still looked a bit sleepy when Wonwoo closed the door.

Mingyu looked over his shoulder, and a small smile appeared on his face.

“I told you I’d help you with this,” Wonwoo murmured, approaching with slow steps.

“If I waited for your lazy help, this room would be a mess,” Mingyu laughed, continuing to fold the clothes.

Wonwoo hugged him from behind, resting his chin on his back.

He should have been annoyed by the fact that Mingyu was taller, even though he was younger. But he wasn’t. He found it attractive. He liked holding him like this. He liked the feeling.

It meant nothing.

Maybe the sex between them meant more.

But maybe it didn’t.

They were only twenty, and they were deprived of any contact with girls. Eventually, they’d have to find a solution.

Even if it was with each other.

“I want you…” Wonwoo whispered, pressing his forehead against Mingyu’s back. He felt the younger’s quiet laugh vibrate against his body. “Can I kiss you?”

Mingyu furrowed his brow, confused.

“Where?”

The question made sense.

There were rules, after all. Rules that Wonwoo had set up to keep them from crossing the line of friendship. But at that moment, he wanted to cross it. “On my mouth.”

Mingyu’s expression shifted from confusion to surprise. Then something close to happiness… The same gleam that appeared when they finished their “joint exercises,” which was really just a code for sex.

“Okay.” The answer came as a sigh.

“Just this time,” Wonwoo clarified.

“Yeah, okay.” But the way Mingyu accepted it had something more. A hint of sarcasm hidden beneath his easy surrender.

Wonwoo’s heart raced as Mingyu turned to face him.

He could see in the younger’s eyes that he was holding back a smile, one of those smiles that always appeared when he realized Wonwoo was giving in to some impulsive desire.

Mingyu didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t ask if Wonwoo was sure, or make any dumb comment to break the mood. He just leaned in, eyes fixed on Wonwoo’s until the last second, and then their lips touched.

It was warm.

It was wet.

And, to Wonwoo’s irritation, it was exactly as good as he imagined it would be.

“I think… I’ve had better kisses from my grandma,” Wonwoo said, pretending to be indifferent. He sighed.

Mingyu laughed, shaking his head slowly.

“Good to know, hyung,” he murmured, his voice dragging, amused.

But he didn’t pull away.

On the contrary, he leaned in again, slow, provocative, as if testing Wonwoo. As if waiting to see how far he would let it go.

Wonwoo didn’t pull back.

The second kiss was more confident, more filled with intent. Mingyu held his face with one hand, pulling him closer, and when their lips parted, Wonwoo felt the tip of the younger’s tongue brush against his.

He shuddered.

His fingers tightened on the shirt Mingyu was wearing.

Mingyu moved against him as if he already knew exactly what to do, as if he’d rehearsed this countless times in his own mind.

Maybe he had.

Wonwoo didn’t want to think about that right now.

He just gave in.

Mingyu’s mouth was warm, and the way he pulled him by the neck, pressing his fingers against his skin, made something inside Wonwoo twist. He didn’t want it to feel this good.

Mingyu didn’t seem inexperienced. He seemed to know the script for this. It shouldn’t be this intense.

They had rules.

Mingyu was always the one who reminded of the rules. But now, he was deepening the kiss as if he wanted to engrave on Wonwoo’s skin that it wasn’t going to stop there.

And Wonwoo let him.

For a few seconds, he forgot this wasn’t part of what they usually did. He forgot he should be worried about what it meant.

He just wanted to feel. Feel Mingyu, feel the warmth of his mouth, the way his body responded to his.

Then Mingyu pulled away. And the expression on his face had nothing to do with the casual promise of “just this time.” He licked his lips as if tasting Wonwoo’s kiss again, and smiled.

“Do you still think your grandma kisses better?” Wonwoo rolled his eyes, pushing Mingyu by the shoulders, but didn’t use much force.

“Shut up.”

Mingyu laughed, flopping onto the bed. He rolled his eyes. Mingyu was a good guy, but sometimes, this happened. He mocked, he looked at Wonwoo’s face, and seemed to mock him.

“You want to do it again, don’t you?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer immediately.

He ran his tongue over his own lips, as if trying to erase the feeling of Mingyu’s. As if trying to pretend that kiss hadn’t been as good as it actually was.

But the younger’s smile only widened.

“You want to.” It was a statement. A blatant challenge.

Wonwoo took a deep breath and looked away, trying to ignore how his body still pulsed, warm, full of that uncomfortable feeling of wanting more.

He shouldn’t want more.

It wasn’t part of the rules.

The sex between them had always been a simple agreement, physical, without any emotional complications. No kisses. No intimacy of this kind.

They were friends. In bed, they were relief.

But now, the kiss existed.

And Wonwoo felt like Mingyu knew exactly what that meant.

“It was just a kiss,” he finally said, trying to sound indifferent. “We literally… do exercises together. A kiss isn’t anything.”

Mingyu tilted his head, his dark eyes dancing between Wonwoo’s features.

“No?”

Wonwoo felt a shiver run up his spine.

He hated when Mingyu did that. When he looked at him like that, as if he could see something inside him that Wonwoo didn’t want to admit. He hated it even more because he knew that if Mingyu tried to kiss him again, he would let him.

Because it was good.

It was fucking good.

The way Mingyu pulled him possessively, the way he slipped his tongue into his mouth, it was warm, it was wet. “We have rules.”

Mingyu smiled.

“You broke the rules first, hyung.”

Wonwoo pressed his lips together, frustrated with himself. He knew he was in deep in this situation, and worse: he knew Mingyu noticed.

The younger had always been good at reading between the lines of what he didn’t say.

“It only happened because I wanted to know what it was like,” he shot back, forcing a casual tone.

Mingyu nodded slowly, as if pretending to believe him. But the gleam in his eyes said otherwise.

“And did you like it?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer.

The silence filled the space between them. Mingyu was still sprawled on the bed, but the way he watched him, as if deciphering every tiny reaction, made Wonwoo want to leave.

Because yes, he liked it.

More than he should have.

Mingyu smiled, slowly sitting up.

“You know what I think?” He leaned forward, his eyes locked with Wonwoo’s. “I think you want me to kiss you again.”

Wonwoo let out a humorless laugh. “What if I do?”

Mingyu didn’t hesitate. “Then I kiss you.”

There was no teasing in his voice. Only certainty.

Wonwoo felt his heart beat faster.

“This doesn’t change anything.”

“Of course not,” Mingyu agreed with a nod, but the way he looked at him said otherwise. “Lie down here.”

Mingyu lay back down. Wonwoo had his own bed, oddly enough, next to Mingyu’s, but often, Mingyu asked him to lie with him.

“It’s hard to lie with you when you’re 6'3 tall.”

“And you’re a six foot tall too, not much shorter.”

“But it’s a lot. So much proportion, I’m big, you’re big, and the bed’s small. It’s hard.”

Mingyu laughed, slapping the mattress beside him.

“Stop complaining and just lie here.”

Wonwoo hesitated for a second but eventually gave in. That was what he did with Mingyu: he gave in.

He settled next to the younger man, feeling the mattress sink under their combined weight. It was warm there, too warm. Or maybe it was just him.

Mingyu turned his face toward him, his eyes still carrying that annoying amusement, that certainty that Wonwoo wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“You’re overthinking.”

Wonwoo snorted.

“And you talk too much.”

Mingyu smiled.

“You like it.”

Silence settled again. Wonwoo stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how close Mingyu’s body was to his, how his arm brushed against his with each breath.

“Hyung.”

“Hmm?”

“If I kiss you again, are you going to hit me?” Wonwoo turned his head toward him, meeting that look full of expectation.

He could say yes. He could say that the rules still existed, that it meant nothing. But then he remembered the taste of Mingyu, the way he held him, the shiver that ran through his skin.

And before he could stop himself, he sighed.

“Try it.”

Mingyu didn’t need any more encouragement.

This time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. Mingyu leaned in and took his lips as if he already knew Wonwoo wasn’t going to resist.

It was good. It was sweet. It was warm and wet.

And, to Wonwoo’s despair, it was addictive.

Mingyu’s mouth molded against his with ease, as if he already knew exactly what to do to provoke him, to make him surrender without needing words. It was slow this time, more exploratory, as if Mingyu were savoring every corner of his mouth.

Wonwoo didn’t want to deepen the kiss. He didn’t want to slide his tongue against his. He didn’t want to grab him by the hair and pull him even closer.

But he did all of it.

And Mingyu moaned against his mouth, a muffled, satisfied sound.

Wonwoo felt a shiver run down his spine. He could no longer pretend that it didn’t mean anything. Because it did.

The way Mingyu kissed him wasn’t casual. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t just a transgression of the rules.

It was intentional.

When Mingyu finally pulled away, his eyes were dark, his breath slightly erratic. He ran his tongue over his own lips, still looking at Wonwoo, as if trying to hold on to the taste.

And then, he smiled.

A small, satisfied smile.

“You… taste like toothpaste.” He whispered, and Wonwoo was still panting. He still wanted more.

Mingyu’s neck was red, as it often was when they were getting intimate. Wonwoo looked at him for a few more seconds before sighing, letting out a small smile.

“And you don’t look as inexperienced as you said you were.” Wonwoo whispered, touching Mingyu’s neck. He knew what he was doing.

It was ego.

He couldn’t let Mingyu provoke him like this, he couldn’t let him do whatever he wanted.

Mingyu laughed, a low, satisfied sound, and slid his fingers along the line of Wonwoo’s jaw, touching him with a familiarity that shouldn’t exist, not outside of carnal contact.

“I never said I was inexperienced, hyung. I just said I don’t do this with anyone.”

Wonwoo felt a shiver run up his spine. The way Mingyu looked at him, as if he knew exactly what he was doing, as if he had already calculated all his reactions, unsettled him.

He didn’t like feeling predictable.

So, without thinking too much, he slid his fingers down Mingyu’s neck, pressing lightly on the sensitive skin there. He felt the younger man swallow, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Ah… So, am I special?” His voice came out drawn out, slightly provocative.

Mingyu didn’t look away, didn’t pull back.

“You know you are.”

Wonwoo didn’t know what to say. Part of him wanted to laugh, say it was all nonsense, that nothing between them was special. But another part—a part he didn’t want to admit existed—knew Mingyu was serious.

And that was dangerous.

Because, if he accepted it, if he acknowledged that this was more than just a game, the rules he had insisted on keeping would no longer make sense.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So, instead of responding, he leaned in again, this time kissing the younger man’s neck.

It was common for Wonwoo to start with kisses on the neck. It was a ritual, they liked it, Mingyu liked it even more. They were a little different in this regard.

Wonwoo liked kisses behind the ear, whispers, kisses on the shoulder, the warmth of breath on skin, he liked it when the younger man expressed desire in the slowness.

Mingyu liked the action. Mingyu liked wet kisses on the neck, he liked light squeezes on the thigh, tender touches on the neck.

“I thought about approaching you like this this morning, but… I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.” Wonwoo whispered, and it didn’t take long for Mingyu to lean back, giving space for Wonwoo to continue with his wet kisses.

The way Mingyu leaned back, offering his neck without hesitation, made something inside Wonwoo twist.

He felt the younger man’s warm breath against his hair when he lowered his lips down the sensitive curve between his jaw and shoulder, nibbling at the skin before softening it with his tongue.

Mingyu sighed, a low, satisfied sound that reverberated against Wonwoo’s skin.

It was getting out of control.

They never handled teasing for long.

But something daring inside Wonwoo surfaced. He wanted to test the limits. He wanted to see how far Mingyu would let him go before breaking that annoyingly confident composure.

Wonwoo slid one hand across the younger man’s chest, feeling the fast beat of his heart under his fingertips. Mingyu laughed, a hoarse sound, and took Wonwoo’s wrist, holding it without pulling it away.

“Hyung, if you keep going like this…” He left the sentence hanging, but Wonwoo knew what would come next.

If they kept going like this, they both knew what awaited them. But instead of stopping, he pressed his lips against the line of Mingyu’s jaw and whispered:

“What if I don’t want to stop?”

Mingyu let out a sigh between his parted lips.

There was something heavy in the air, dense, hot.

The kind of thing that always hung between them before they completely lost it. But now, there was something different. Maybe it was the fact that they were kissing.

Maybe it was the way Wonwoo didn’t seem to be trying to rationalize anything.

“Did you lock the door?” Mingyu asked, looking him in the eye, but Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel the way his hand moved from his wrist to his waist.

Wonwoo gave a small smile, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still carried a teasing energy.

He glanced at the door behind them. “No, but… They’re sleeping… Are you going to make too much noise?” Wonwoo whispered, the teasing tone growing in his voice.

Mingyu gave a soft, low laugh, as if Wonwoo’s suggestion was an invitation, not a warning. He tilted his head, watching Wonwoo’s profile with a look that was both lust and amusement.

“Who knows?” Mingyu replied, his voice filled with a silent promise.

He didn’t answer the question directly, but the way his fingers slid back to Wonwoo’s waist, pressing him closer to his body, was all he needed to say.

Mingyu's warmth enveloped him, and the touch of the younger's hands made him momentarily lose track of what was happening around them.

"You like this, don't you?" Mingyu whispered, his lips almost touching Wonwoo's skin as he asked the question, feeling the accelerated pulse beneath the older's skin.

He knew they didn't need any more words, but he still loved to play along with the teasing.

Wonwoo closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the feeling of closeness, Mingyu's scent mixed with his own, the feel of his warm skin against his.

"I like what you let me do." Was all Wonwoo replied, before pulling him back in, their mouths meeting in a fierce and unrestrained kiss, desire finally overcoming any hesitation.

Sex with Mingyu was good. It was so good. And it was easy.

Mingyu never left Wonwoo room to feel embarrassed.

The first time they were together, he felt a little embarrassed. One second, Wonwoo was watching an interesting video, the next, his roommate and best friend was jerking him off.

And he didn't see anything wrong.

That's what friends are for, right?

Yes. Until Mingyu pulled him onto his lap.

He opened Wonwoo's shirt and massaged his red buttons, helping Wonwoo get rid of his damn late-night excitement.

Something in Wonwoo told him to push Mingyu away, to ask him what he was doing, to tell him once and for all that he wasn't gay or anything like that, but a much stronger part of Wonwoo wanted Mingyu to throw him on the floor and fuck him right away.

And they didn't stop.

At no point did they stop.

It was a consensus.

Wonwoo knew he wanted more, he knew that just small touches weren't enough, he wanted to know what it was like to have Mingyu.

“Do you… Do you think you can help me today with… The exercises…?” Wonwoo said, they looked at each other, Mingyu seemed confused, but he just nodded.

At first, he didn’t know what it was about, because who the hell does physical exercises in their bedroom?

But it was a matter of time before he finally understood what Wonwoo was talking about.

“I’ve never really done this.” Wonwoo whispered, they were lying on the bed, squeezed together while looking at the ceiling. Mingyu let out a sigh.

“I’ve done it with a few girls.” He whispered, Wonwoo looked at him, rolling his eyes as if that was obvious.

“I’ve done it with a few girls too, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s different. It must be… different.” Wonwoo snorted, closing his eyes for a few seconds. “I just know that I can’t stand using my hand anymore, I feel like a pervert.”

Mingyu laughed softly, a sound that echoed in the silent room. He turned his head to look at Wonwoo.

"You're not a pervert, hyung." Mingyu said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. "It's normal. Well, anything can start a dating rumor these days, we haven't had sex in a while. It's natural for us to...look for relief."

Wonwoo closed his eyes for a moment, he knew the younger was right, but still, there was a part of him that felt guilty, like he was doing something wrong.

But the other part, the part that was tired of repressing so much desire.

"I just...I don't want this to change things between us." Wonwoo confessed, his voice barely audible. He didn't look at Mingyu, but he felt the younger's gaze on him.

Mingyu was silent for a moment, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

"It won't change anything, hyung." He said, his voice full of certainty. "We've been doing this for a while now, and nothing has changed. We're still the same. We're still friends… Raising the bar a little won't change anything."

Wonwoo opened his eyes and looked at Mingyu, trying to find any doubt, any hesitation on the younger man's face.

But there was none.

"Are you sure?" Wonwoo asked, his voice a little stronger now, but still filled with uncertainty.

Mingyu smiled, a small smile. "I'm sure." He said, before leaning forward, his lips finding the corner of Wonwoo's ear in a soft, almost sweet kiss.

Wonwoo let himself go, feeling the heat of Mingyu against him, the softness of his lips, the firmness of his hands.

It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and at the same time, it was exactly what he needed.

When Mingyu pulled away, Wonwoo felt a little dizzy, as if the world around him had spun a little faster than usual.

He looked at Mingyu, trying to find the right words, but the younger was already moving, getting up from the bed and wedging himself between Wonwoo's legs.

"Let's do this straight away." Mingyu whispered, his face buried in the older's neck.

Wonwoo hesitated for a moment, but eventually let his hand slide up Mingyu’s back. He felt Mingyu’s hands slide down his legs, slowly moving up to his hips, before stopping at his waist.

“Relax, hyung,” Mingyu whispered, his voice soft, almost hypnotic. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, feeling Mingyu’s hands explore his body, touching, caressing, teasing.

He’d done this before. It was different when you were giving this kind of treatment to a woman and when you were receiving this kind of treatment from a man.

“I’ll take care of you.” Mingyu’s voice was low, a tone Wonwoo had never heard before. They usually didn’t speak when Mingyu touched him, and Wonwoo felt overwhelmed by his urge to make a sound in response to that.

He felt Mingyu lean over him, his lips slowly finding Wonwoo’s neck. He let himself go, feeling Mingyu’s warmth against him, the softness of his lips, the firmness of his hands.

And then, Mingyu began to move, his lips moving down Wonwoo’s neck, nibbling, sucking, kissing. Wonwoo felt a moan escape his lips, but Mingyu didn’t stop, continuing to explore every inch of his skin.

“Are you enjoying this?” Mingyu asked, his voice husky, full of desire.

Wonwoo couldn't answer, he just nodded, feeling Mingyu's hands slide down his body. He felt Mingyu move even lower, his lips finding his neck, his shoulders, his chest.

And then, Mingyu stopped, his eyes meeting Wonwoo's. "Are you ready?"

Wonwoo looked at Mingyu, trying to find the right words, but in the end, he just nodded, feeling his heart beat faster by the second.

Mingyu smiled, a small smile, but full of meaning, before leaning forward, his lips meeting Wonwoo's in a deep kiss.

And so, they continued, little by little.

★

“Dude, were you guys asleep earlier?” Hoshi asked, and Mingyu froze.

It felt like they had discovered he had committed a crime. He moved slowly to grab a kitchen utensil, muttering a noise that confirmed yes, they had been asleep.

Which was a lie.

“I woke up and kept hearing this weird noise. Are they starting some construction nearby?” the older one asked, confused, as he brought his chopsticks to his mouth.

Mingyu felt his hand slip on the handle of the knife he was holding. He laughed, too quickly, and tried to cover it up by straightening his posture. “Ah… construction? I don’t know, I don’t think so.”

Hoshi furrowed his brow. “Really?” He let out a rhythmic laugh. “It sounded like it was coming from your room. I thought you were moving the bed around, but Chan said there was construction.”

Mingyu’s blood ran cold. He didn’t need to look to know that Wonwoo, sitting beside him, had also tensed up.

“Maybe it was the upstairs neighbor,” Wonwoo interjected, too casual to be convincing. “He’s always dragging furniture around. It drives me crazy.”

Hoshi chewed slowly, watching the two of them.

“Yeah… Well, it was a really repetitive noise, you know? Like something hitting the wall, or… I don’t know.” He looked around, letting out a laugh. “You know how it is when you’re… when you’re in your room and then it starts… thud-thud-thud… I thought I was going crazy.”

Mingyu choked on his own saliva.

He coughed, hitting his chest, trying to mask the desperation rising like fire in his throat. Wonwoo, beside him, kept his expression neutral, but Mingyu knew he was just as screwed as he was.

Hoshi looked at the two of them, his chopsticks still halfway to his mouth. “You guys okay?”

“Great,” Wonwoo replied before Mingyu could open his mouth and incriminate himself further. “I think Mingyu’s just tired, right, Min?”

Wonwoo asked, but the question felt more like an accusation, a threat. “Yeah. I… need more sleep,” Mingyu whispered.

“Ah, I see…” Hoshi nodded, but his expression made it clear that no, he didn’t see at all.

Mingyu desperately tried to think of something to change the subject, but his mind was too busy replaying flashes from the night before. Wonwoo’s hands pulling at the sheets. The sound of his breath in the dark.

The way every movement made the headboard hit the wall…

And hit.

And hit.

He felt his face burn.

Hoshi kept watching them, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if he were piecing together an invisible puzzle.

“Well,” he said finally, pointing his chopsticks at them, “if you find out there really is construction, let me know, because that noise was crazy loud. You know how Jeonghan is about noise. If it happens while he’s here, he might kill someone.”

Mingyu laughed, humorlessly. “Sure. Will do.”

Wonwoo just went back to eating, as if nothing had happened. But under the table, Mingyu felt Wonwoo’s leg brush against his—a subtle gesture, almost like a warning.

They needed to be more careful.

“Hyung…” They saw Chan come out of the room, his hand inside his shirt, rubbing his stomach as he walked to the kitchen. “Why are you guys eating at the counter?”

“Mingyu was cooking, so Wonwoo and I came to keep him company,” Hoshi said. Chan leaned on the older one’s back, sighing. “Still tired?”

“Totally. The construction ruined my sleep. I was in my room watching TikTok.” Mingyu almost dropped the knife.

Chan had been awake.

If Hoshi only had suspicions, Chan might have heard everything.

The silence that followed was brief.

Wonwoo took a sip of water, his eyes half-closed as if analyzing the situation. Mingyu wanted to punch him for looking so calm when, in reality, they were on the verge of collapse.

Wonwoo wiped his lips with a napkin, his tone casual. “So, that’s it. Just another noisy day.”

“I just hope it’s really construction and they’re not just fucking,” Chan muttered, grabbing a piece of food from Hoshi’s plate with his fingers. “I want to sleep in peace.”

Hoshi hit the younger one’s shoulder, laughing. “Don’t say stuff like that in front of your hyungs!”

Mingyu felt his heart stop for a full second.

Chan kept chewing, oblivious to the tension that had settled in the air. Hoshi laughed, distracted, but Mingyu knew Wonwoo had gone still beside him.

He felt his soul leave his body, ready to dissolve into the air and disappear from the face of the Earth.

“What are you laughing at?” Chan asked, frowning at Hoshi, who was still laughing at the comment.

“You’ve got no shame,” Hoshi said, shaking his head. “You stay up late watching TikTok, then complain you’re tired because of the noise. I bet you didn’t even hear anything properly.”

Chan huffed. “I did hear it! You heard it too!”

Hoshi raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I heard it. But seriously, it’s probably just some idiot neighbor renovating their place. You’re all perverts.”

Mingyu swallowed hard, feeling the word “perverts” echo like a sharp blade.

Wonwoo stayed calm, as always, but Mingyu knew he was also on the verge of exploding. The tension between them, the pressure of keeping up the facade while everything around them threatened to fall apart, was unbearable.

“It’s just a noisy neighbor, I bet,” Wonwoo replied, his tone so casual that Mingyu almost believed it. “Nothing big, just another one of those normal days.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, heavy. Hoshi looked at the two of them, watching them for a moment longer than usual. As if he were trying to decipher some invisible puzzle.

“Well, if you say so…” Hoshi said finally, backing off a little. “Complain if it gets too loud. I want everyone sleeping well so you can perform better.”

Mingyu nodded quickly, trying to keep his composure. “Sure, will do.”

“I’m heading to the room. Let me know when the other guys get here,” Wonwoo said, standing up. He patted Hoshi’s back and kissed the top of Chan’s head. Then he looked at Mingyu: “When you come to the room, leave the light off.”

Mingyu swallowed hard, feeling the pressure in his chest grow with Wonwoo’s words.

The look he exchanged with the older one said things the other two wouldn’t understand even if they tried. It was a disguised order, a request.

He just nodded, his muscles tense, trying to stay calm. “Sure.”

Wonwoo gave him one last look before turning to head to the room.

Hoshi and Chan continued their casual conversation, oblivious to the tension between Mingyu and Wonwoo, but Mingyu couldn’t focus on their words anymore.

His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts about what might happen if everything fell apart. He felt the urgency to get away, to escape the situation, but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t.

“You okay?” Chan asked suddenly, interrupting the whirlwind of Mingyu’s thoughts. The younger one seemed genuinely curious, but Mingyu didn’t want him getting any closer. Not now.

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to smile, but the effort felt forced, even to himself. “Just… a little tired, you know?”

“I get it,” Chan said, patting Mingyu’s back as if he understood. “Me too. This construction keeps messing with us.”

Hoshi shrugged, agreeing. “Nothing more annoying than noise like that.”

He looked at the two of them, and what Mingyu feared most now was that Hoshi and Chan would start connecting the dots. That they’d start realizing it wasn’t a noisy neighbor. It wasn’t just some construction.

It was something much more intimate. Something that, if discovered, would change everything.

★

Mingyu entered the room after a few minutes.

He sighed, catching Wonwoo's attention.

"Hey? You okay?" Wonwoo asked, watching Mingyu lean against the door. Mingyu closed his eyes, and Wonwoo stood up. "Mingyu?"

"They're going to find out," Mingyu said. On one hand, it was kind of funny to see Mingyu panicking. On the other hand, it was terrifying to see Mingyu panicking. "They're figuring it out. We need to stop."

"What? Hey, hey, hey. Hold on," Wonwoo whispered, a smile tugging at his lips. It was amazing how Mingyu could be both confident and scared in equal measure.

Mingyu didn’t seem to notice Wonwoo’s smile.

He was lost in his own thoughts, his fingers nervously gripping the edges of his shirt, his breathing faster than usual. The restlessness was visible in every line of his face.

"It's not just paranoia," Mingyu said, his voice shaky. "Hoshi… Chan… They're starting to notice. The questions, the looks..."

Wonwoo took a step forward, trying to calm the younger one. He cupped Mingyu’s face, pulling him closer. "Calm down, okay? You're just anxious. They spooked you, but it's fine."

Wonwoo whispered, his tone concerned, though he couldn’t help but find it endearing. Mingyu was soothed like an anxious puppy—give him comforting words and a gentle touch, and he’d automatically calm down.

"It's fine. They don’t know anything," Wonwoo said, moving his hand down to Mingyu’s chest. His heart was racing so fast that Wonwoo could feel its shape under his palm. "Look at this, you're having a mini heart attack."

Mingyu closed his eyes, feeling Wonwoo’s palm against his chest. He let out a low laugh. "I think I’m just paranoid."

Mingyu looked at him with those big, round eyes, and Wonwoo sighed—but not for the reason Mingyu thought.

Wonwoo sighed because he knew exactly what those eyes did to him. It was almost irritating how Mingyu could be so vulnerable and yet so exasperatingly charming at the same time.

"Yeah, you're paranoid," Wonwoo replied, not removing his hand from Mingyu’s chest. "But, on the other hand, it’s kind of cute seeing you freak out like this."

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but his face was still warm, as if the earlier panic had left physical marks on him. "It’s not cute. It’s desperate. I almost died in the kitchen."

Wonwoo chuckled softly, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles on Mingyu’s chest before finally lowering his hand. "If anyone had to die of embarrassment today, it would’ve been me. But I survived, you survived. So technically, we’re fine."

Mingyu huffed, crossing his arms. "Do you really think Hoshi and Chan don’t suspect anything?"

Wonwoo shrugged, tilting his head. "I think they might suspect something, but at the end of the day, no one really wants to know the details. And if they start asking too much, we just… steer the conversation away."

Mingyu didn’t seem entirely convinced, but Wonwoo’s logic made sense. He’d known him long enough to know that Wonwoo was good at this—keeping things under control, saying the right words to dispel doubts.

That’s why he trusted him.

That’s why he knew that, despite everything, they were still safe.

"You’re amazing," Mingyu whispered, hugging Wonwoo. He kissed Wonwoo’s shoulder, smiling against his skin. "Sorry about last night. I got us into this mess."

Wonwoo looked at him, not expecting that.

An apology?

"Why exactly are you apologizing?" he asked, hesitant.

"I couldn’t control myself. I always stay quiet, and it drives me crazier than you think…" Mingyu said, pulling away and sitting on the bed while squeezing his own palm.

Wonwoo watched Mingyu closely.

He’d seen the younger one nervous before, but this was different. There was something deeper here, a quiet frustration. "So… you’re blaming yourself for feeling good?" Wonwoo asked.

Mingyu pressed his lips together, avoiding eye contact. "It’s not just that." He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up. "It’s how I get when these things happen. I always promise myself I’ll stay in control, but when it happens… I lose myself."

Wonwoo felt something tighten in his chest.

Mingyu lost himself.

And Wonwoo found him.

Always.

He moved closer, gently pushing Mingyu’s hands aside and taking a seat on his lap—a spot that felt like it belonged to him. "You don’t have to control yourself so much," Wonwoo said, settling into Mingyu’s lap. "I wouldn’t take back a single moment from last night."

Mingyu looked at him, a pout slowly forming on his lips.

"I loved when the construction started," Wonwoo said, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. Mingyu huffed, but his smile grew too.

"Don’t joke about that," Wonwoo chuckled softly, leaning a little closer, as if to provoke Mingyu even more.

Mingyu sighed, lightly squeezing Wonwoo’s waist, as if to stop him from saying anything else provocative. But it was useless.

"Why not? It was the most intense moment of the night."

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but his hands didn’t move. They stayed firm, holding Wonwoo in place, as if he belonged exactly there—and maybe he did.

"You’re impossible…" Mingyu murmured, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

Wonwoo smiled, leaning in even closer, his lips almost brushing against Mingyu’s cheek.

"I like it when you get aggressive."

Mingyu froze.

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His face turned red, and he looked away, pretending to focus on anything else.

Wonwoo chuckled softly.

He loved this. Loved how Mingyu was so transparent without even realizing it.

Chapter Text

Rule number two: Aftercare is different from cuddling after sex.

"I think it should be like that because you always get clingy when we're done," Wonwoo says. They're lying there, as usual, side by side on the single bed, staring at the ceiling.

"But I like it. I'm not gonna be an idiot and leave you alone in bed when we're done," Mingyu whispers. The door was closed, as it usually was when they were having this kind of conversation.

"But it's good to have boundaries. We're just friends. There's no reason to treat me like a girl or something," Wonwoo says, squinting at the ceiling as if analyzing his own words.

"I'm not treating you like a girl, Wonwoo. It's not about that," Mingyu counters, running a hand absentmindedly through his hair, his body naturally relaxed. "It's just... after everything, it feels weird to just distance myself, like nothing happened, you know?"

Wonwoo slowly turns his head, his eyes heavy.

"I get it, but that's exactly what we need. Distance is what keeps things... simple. We can't act like this is more than it is."

Mingyu lets out a low, humorless laugh. "Yeah, I know. Always the logical one." He turns onto his side, facing Wonwoo, his eyes trying to meet his but avoiding any real closeness.

Wonwoo closes his eyes for a moment, as if fighting against his own nature.

"It's not about being logical, Mingyu. It's about not losing control, about not letting... complicated feelings get tangled up in this. We have an agreement, right? This is just... this. It's nothing more."

Wonwoo's last sentence echoes in Mingyu's mind like a small blow, and he feels the weight of his words.

They had an agreement.

But that agreement kept shifting every time one of them allowed themselves to go a little further. Every touch, every lingering glance, the little things Mingyu no longer knew how to control.

"Okay, I get it," Mingyu murmurs, as if trying to accept it. But the doubt in the back of his eyes betrays that he still doesn't fully understand.

"So, we're not more than this, so what's the point of getting closer every time we're done?"

Mingyu sighs, his body relaxing on the bed, the silence heavy between them.

"That's just how it works, Mingyu. There's nothing more to say. We do what we need to do, and then we go back to normal."

"Alright. I get it," Mingyu says, sitting up on the bed. Wonwoo watches him, noticing the bare back with a few marks, and he thinks about touching it but holds back.

And then Mingyu gets up, heading to his own bed.

Wonwoo watches him, but Mingyu seems to have found something very interesting on the ceiling.

"Min..." The older one gets up, walking slowly over to Mingyu's bed. He sits down beside Kim, reaching out to touch his forearm. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Mingyu replies almost immediately. He knows Mingyu is having thoughts he doesn't want him to have. "I was talking to a girl on Kakao."

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, not entirely convinced but also not wanting to push.

He's still sitting there, too close but not really touching. Just the tips of his fingers on Mingyu's forearm, as if testing an invisible boundary.

"And?" His voice comes out drier than he intended.

Mingyu shrugs, still focused on the ceiling. "She's nice. We talk a lot."

Those words shouldn't bother Wonwoo, but they do.

He feels a slight pang in his chest, something akin to irritation, but he refuses to name it for what it is. He slowly pulls his hand away, as if nothing happened, and rests it on Mingyu's bed, looking at him.

"Cool," he murmurs, drumming his fingers on the mattress.

Mingyu watches him out of the corner of his eye, waiting for more of a reaction, a question, anything. But Wonwoo just stays there, motionless, pretending not to care.

"You're not gonna ask anything else?" Mingyu insists, turning his face to him.

"Why would I? You do what you want, Min. This doesn't change anything," Wonwoo says, and Mingyu presses his lips together.

Wonwoo always does this. Always puts up a barrier the moment things start to spiral out of control.

"It doesn't change?" Mingyu's voice is low, almost hesitant.

"No."

Mingyu sighs, biting his lower lip.

"You should do that too. I'm not talking about sex or anything... just talking. Girls are nice. They're charming," Mingyu says, but there's no real interest in his voice.

Wonwoo laughs, but there's no humor in it. It's more of an automatic reaction, something dry and emotionless.

"Now you're giving me advice?" He raises an eyebrow, feigning an interest he doesn't feel.

Mingyu finally looks away from the ceiling to stare at him. Wonwoo looks too comfortable sitting there on his bed, as if it were normal. But it's not. Nothing about their relationship is normal.

"No. I just think you should try. Sometimes, it feels like you don't even care about that stuff." Wonwoo rests an elbow on his knee, propping his chin on his hand.

"Maybe I don't."

Mingyu frowns. "But why?"

Wonwoo sighs, looking away. He doesn't want to have this conversation. He doesn't want to tread this kind of ground with Mingyu.

"Because it doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't make sense?"

"Yeah. Talking, getting to know someone, pretending to be interested. In the end, it's just wasted time. We can't get into relationships right now; we have a career to maintain... maybe when I'm 30, I'll do that."

Mingyu stares at him for a long moment, as if trying to understand what Wonwoo really means.

"That doesn't make sense," he shakes his head. "You always overthink things."

Wonwoo shrugs. "Maybe."

Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes. At the same time, he feels the bed shift.

Wonwoo touches his bare chest before leaning in to nuzzle his neck. "New perfume?" he asks casually, dragging his nose along the younger one's neck.

Mingyu swallows hard, his body reacting automatically to the touch, but his mind still stuck on the previous conversation. "Yeah... bought it the other day," he replies, his voice a little softer.

Wonwoo nods against his skin, as if that information mattered. His nose slides behind Mingyu's ear, his warm breath causing shivers.

"I like it," he murmurs.

Mingyu closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to fall into the trap that was Wonwoo getting this close, this casual, as if nothing mattered.

But it did matter. It mattered because, just minutes ago, Wonwoo was practically saying that nothing between them changed. That nothing meant nothing.

Mingyu wanted to believe that.

He needed to believe it.

Except Wonwoo was still there, too close, touching him in a way that wasn’t just about desire.

He felt the older one’s lips brush against his shoulder, slow, unhurried.

“You do this on purpose,” Mingyu accused, his voice dragging.

Wonwoo lifted his head to look at him. “Do what?”

“This. Acting like nothing is anything, but still…” He sighed, frustrated, unable to finish the sentence.

Wonwoo didn’t look away. “This has nothing to do with what we talked about before.”

“No?” Mingyu raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Wonwoo stated firmly.

Mingyu watched him for a few seconds, his dark eyes trying to decipher something in the other’s face. Wonwoo seemed steady, unshakable, as always.

So why was he still there, grazing his lips against Mingyu’s skin? Why was he still holding Mingyu as if he wanted more than just an empty agreement?

“I was drawn to your scent,” Wonwoo whispered, his teeth grazing Mingyu’s neck so casually, as if it were a ritual, a habit. “If you keep this taste in perfumes… you’ll definitely find a girl to sleep with faster than I will.”

Mingyu let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Oh, so that’s it?” He murmured, tilting his head back as he felt Wonwoo’s lips press against a sensitive spot on his neck. “Are you trying to encourage me or just mess with me?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he slid his fingers down Mingyu’s shoulders, slowly tracing the lines of his arms, and shifted, climbing onto the younger one’s lap.

“Both, I think,” he admitted, almost in a whisper.

Mingyu knew what Wonwoo was doing.

He knew it was his way of maintaining control, of making sure Mingyu stayed within the invisible boundaries he set every time things got complicated.

“You’re such an asshole,” Mingyu murmured, but he didn’t push him away.

Wonwoo smiled against his skin. “You like being messed with.”

It was true.

And that was the problem.

And that night, as they held each other in an inexplicably good way, Mingyu realized that what bothered him the most wasn’t the fact that Wonwoo had no interest in talking to girls.

It was the fact that Wonwoo seemed to have no interest in anyone but him.

Now, the reality of "rule number two" was there, firmly established between them, but the complications that had arisen since the moment Wonwoo decided to break rule number one were still lingering.

Mingyu knew what they had agreed on. Each encounter seemed like a repetition of the same scene, but with more weight, more insistence.

He didn’t know how far he could go with this.

They were there, breathless, sweaty, alone in that room when Mingyu pulled him by the waist. He buried his face in Wonwoo’s neck. “I’m tired,” Wonwoo whispered, feeling Mingyu’s lips press against his neck.

Mingyu didn’t respond immediately.

He just tasted the sweat on Wonwoo’s skin, his nose brushing against the older one’s neck. They stayed there, motionless, Wonwoo’s fingers slipping through Mingyu’s hair, resting at the nape of his neck.

Wonwoo closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way Mingyu held him, as if he didn’t want to let go, but then Mingyu’s voice sounded in his ears, almost like a whisper.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked.

Wonwoo held back a sigh, slowly opening his eyes. The question hung there between them like a thread, mixed with the heat of their bodies and the intoxicating scent of sex.

He could say yes.

He could say it would be easier if Mingyu got off him and just went to his own bed. It was one of the rules. Keeping distance was necessary to keep things under control.

But why hadn’t he pulled away yet?

Wonwoo sighed, involuntarily tightening his grip on Mingyu’s nape, as if it were a reflex.

“No,” he whispered. “Can you stay with me tonight?”

Mingyu looked at him, and it was as if a glass surface shattered at his feet.

Wonwoo was breaking another rule. He didn’t know how to handle it.

“Are you sure?” Mingyu’s voice came out more like a plea than a question. It was easy to tell when Mingyu was terrified.

Maybe it wasn’t so easy to tell when he was in love.

“Yes,” Wonwoo whispered, bringing his hand back to Mingyu’s hair, pulling him closer. It wasn’t aggressive. It was calm.

When their lips touched like that, Mingyu felt like he could freeze that moment and live it over and over again.

Wonwoo felt the exact moment Mingyu gave in.

The way his muscles relaxed, the tremble in his fingers as he pressed against Wonwoo’s warm skin. It was as if he was trying to process what was happening in that moment.

As if he was trying to understand what it meant.

Wonwoo didn’t know if he wanted that moment to mean something.

Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Mingyu’s lips were warm and soft against his, without the urgency they had when they first entered the room. It was as if Mingyu was exploring, trying to figure out where, how, and how far he could go.

They had already broken the first rule.

They had kissed before.

But not like this.

Not with this weight, not with this silence, with trembling touches, as if they were about to step into territory they had sworn to avoid.

Mingyu was the one who broke the kiss, but he didn’t pull away, resting his forehead against Wonwoo’s.

“This is a terrible idea,” he whispered. Wonwoo felt a tired smile form on his own lips.

“I know,” Wonwoo whispered back, as if they were sharing a secret. And they were.

Wonwoo let his ring finger slide down the line of Mingyu’s spine, hearing him sigh. He wished he hadn’t noticed the subtle shiver that ran through Mingyu’s skin at that movement.

He knew he should say something.

He should set a boundary, he should reaffirm that this was just an exception. That it wouldn’t happen again. That Mingyu couldn’t get used to it.

But then, he looked at Mingyu.

Lying on his chest while receiving gentle caresses on his back, almost falling asleep after leaving all his intensity in Wonwoo’s bed.

He looked fragile.

It might seem impossible, but it wasn’t.

Mingyu’s fragility wasn’t something you could easily see.

He was big, tall, always carried a playful smile, had a way of existing that was too carefree. But now, lying there, his breathing slowing down on Wonwoo’s lap, he seemed smaller.

And Wonwoo couldn’t convince his mind that this was a problem.

He simply closed his eyes and continued gliding his finger along the younger one's back, who seemed to be peacefully falling asleep.

The silence in the room was almost palpable, broken only by the soft sound of Mingyu's breathing, which was deepening as sleep overtook him.

Wonwoo kept caressing the younger one's back, feeling the texture of his skin beneath his fingers, the gentle rise of his spine, the softness of the relaxed muscles.

It was strange, he thought, how something so simple could feel so intimate.

He looked at Mingyu again, observing the relaxed features of the younger one.

Mingyu seemed so young, so vulnerable.

Wonwoo knew that when he woke up, that fragility would disappear, replaced by the usual confidence, the contagious energy that Mingyu always carried. But for now, he allowed himself to appreciate this rare moment, this version of Mingyu that few got the chance to see.

Wonwoo closed his eyes again, trying not to think too much.

He knew he should be concerned about what this meant, about the implications of everything that had happened between them. But for some reason, at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the calm that Mingyu brought with him, but Wonwoo felt at peace.

He didn’t know how much time passed like that, caressing Mingyu, lost in his own thoughts. But eventually, he felt the younger one's body move slightly, a sign that he was waking up.

Wonwoo opened his eyes and saw Mingyu stretch, before propping himself up on his elbows and looking at him.

"Are you still awake?" Mingyu asked, his voice husky with sleep.

"Yeah."

Mingyu looked at him for a moment, his dark eyes seemingly studying every detail of Wonwoo’s face. Then, he lay back down, this time on his side, resting his head on his hand. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

Wonwoo hesitated, looking at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. There were so many things on his mind, so many conflicting emotions, so many doubts. But in the end, he decided to be honest.

"I’m thinking about your breathing," he said, his voice calm.

Mingyu chuckled softly, a sound that Wonwoo felt more than heard. "My breathing?"

Wonwoo turned his face towards him, observing Mingyu’s confused expression, the small, amused curve on his lips. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. The way it changes when you're sleeping."

Mingyu blinked slowly, as if trying to understand what that meant. Then, he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before giving a lazy smile.

"That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?"

Wonwoo just shrugged. "Maybe."

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a type of silence that seemed to say more than any conversation. Mingyu was still there, lying next to him, and Wonwoo hadn’t told him to leave.

He knew he should.

He knew that if they kept going like this, everything would get even more complicated. But for now, he didn’t care.

Mingyu moved his fingers absentmindedly against the mattress, as if hesitating to say something. He opened his mouth, but closed it again.

Wonwoo noticed.

"Say it," he encouraged softly.

Mingyu licked his lips before finally speaking. "Have you ever thought that we might be ruining everything?"

Wonwoo let out a light sigh, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. "All the time."

"Then why don’t you stop?"

Wonwoo stayed silent for a few seconds. He could feel Mingyu’s gaze on him, waiting for an answer that maybe he didn’t even know how to give.

"I don’t know," he finally admitted.

Mingyu watched him for a few more moments before letting out a short, almost incredulous laugh. "Too honest for someone who always makes rules."

Wonwoo turned his face back towards him, his eyes half-closed. "And you? Why don’t you stop?"

Mingyu gave a small smile, but there didn’t seem to be any humor in it. "I don’t know either."

The answer hung between them, raw and true.

Wonwoo closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh.

He wanted to cuddle. Especially at that moment.

He felt like he needed to cuddle with something, but something inside him kept him from lying on Mingyu's chest and asking for a mere scrap of affection.

He was afraid.

Mingyu noticed.

He saw the way Wonwoo hesitated, how his body seemed caught in an internal dilemma. He knew that look, that silence too heavy for someone who always had the right words on the tip of his tongue.

And then, before Wonwoo could convince himself otherwise, Mingyu lifted an arm, offering space beside his body. He didn’t say anything, didn’t push anything. He just left it there, a silent invitation.

Wonwoo looked at him.

He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t.

But in the end, the need won.

Slowly, he moved, sliding closer, until his head found Mingyu’s warm chest. He felt the younger one's arm close around him, a hand resting firmly against his back.

It was comfortable.

Too comfortable.

Mingyu didn’t say anything. He just ran his fingers slowly down Wonwoo's arm, tracing slow circles against his skin.

"I… thank God every day that you’re my best friend," Mingyu whispered. And as much as some people might look at those words and feel bad, Wonwoo just let a comfortable smile spread across his lips.

He knew Mingyu was trying to implement some sort of damage control.

Wonwoo closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Mingyu's breath against his hair.

He wanted to laugh. Not because he thought it was funny, but because he understood exactly what Mingyu was doing.

Calling this friendship. Redefining the blurred contours of what they were becoming. Keeping things within a limit that, in reality, had already been crossed a long time ago.

It was an attempt to not break what still remained intact.

Wonwoo slowly opened his eyes, his fingers sliding down Mingyu’s slender torso. His skin was so warm… Everything about Mingyu was so cozy…

"Best friends, huh?" His voice came out low, laden with something that Mingyu didn’t want to think about.

The younger one hesitated for a second, but then nodded. "Yeah."

Wonwoo let out a light, almost resigned sigh.

He could argue. He could say that best friends don’t do what they did. That best friends don’t touch each other like that, don’t kiss like that, don’t hold each other this way after sex, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

But he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he just closed his eyes again and let the exhaustion take over, still nestled in Mingyu’s arms.

If that’s how Mingyu wanted to define it, then so be it.

At least for now.

Chapter Text

Rule number three: Don't get caught!

They were tired.

Too tired to talk, too tired to eat, to walk, or do anything other than throw themselves onto the couch and close their eyes.

It had been an exhausting day.

"You guys need to eat," Jeonghan said, a towel draped over his shoulder. "I'm serious, don't forget to eat. Seungcheol and I are going out for dinner—if you want, you can come with us."

The eldest spoke while walking around the room. He stopped behind Seungkwan, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Then, he looked at the other boys as if he pitied them.

"Please, don't be so lifeless. It's weird," he whispered.

They were Seventeen.

Their defining trait was energy.

But looking at the eleven boys scattered across the couches and the floor, it was hard to believe that.

"We're fine," Soonyoung mumbled, his voice muffled against a pillow.

"Nobody here looks fine," Jeonghan shot back, raising an eyebrow.

From the other side of the room, Seungcheol, who had been observing the scene, sighed. "If you guys want, I can order food before we leave."

There was a low murmur, but no one really bothered to respond.

Jeonghan exchanged a knowing glance with Seungcheol before leaning down to give a light slap to Joshua’s leg, the latter sprawled out on the couch beside him.

"Hey, at least pretend you're alive."

Joshua grumbled something unintelligible, pulling a pillow over his face.

"What happened to you guys?" Jeonghan asked, looking around.

No one answered right away.

Until Seungkwan sighed.

"I think we just got tired of being Seventeen for a day."

Silence settled over the room.

It wasn't said with bitterness or regret. It wasn't a complaint.

It was just a fact.

They loved what they did, loved being together, loved the energy and chaos that came with the name Seventeen.

But sometimes, they just needed a moment to breathe.

Jeonghan sighed, but a small smile played on his lips.

"Alright. But at least eat something before you pass out everywhere."

And with that, he and Seungcheol left, leaving the eleven boys sprawled around the room, exhausted but together.

"I'll give ten dollars if they're heading straight to a motel," Joshua pulled a bill from his pocket, extending his arm with the money in hand. He earned a few curious looks.

Wonwoo looked at Mingyu. Mingyu looked at Wonwoo.

But it was Dokyeom who broke the silence.

"Shua hyung! Don't say stuff like that!" he said, his signature wide smile present—until it disappeared when Seungkwan pulled out two ten-dollar bills from his coat pocket.

"This is all I have."

There was a second of silence before Vernon grabbed the two bills from Seungkwan’s hand and placed them on top of Joshua’s.

"I'll double it."

Jun, who was lying on the floor with an arm draped over his eyes, let out a tired laugh. "You guys are awful."

"We're just dealing with reality," Joshua shrugged, waving the bill in the air.

Soonyoung narrowed his eyes. "And what if they're really just going out for dinner?"

Seungkwan scoffed. "Then we lose money. But honestly, how many times do those two go out alone and not come back looking... way too satisfied?"

A general murmur of agreement followed.

Minghao, lying face down on the couch, lifted his head just enough to stare at Seungkwan. "You think about this too much."

Seungkwan crossed his arms. "And you don't?"

Minghao opened his mouth to respond but decided it wasn’t worth the effort and laid back down.

Meanwhile, Joshua pocketed the money.

"If they come back before midnight and without that disgusting knowing look, I'll return the cash."

"Define 'disgusting knowing look,'" Wonwoo finally spoke up.

Joshua just smiled. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

There was something about that smile—something Wonwoo wasn’t sure he could decipher—so the American turned to Mingyu instead.

Wonwoo held his breath.

Hong Jisoo, you absolute bastard!

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, confused. "What?"

Joshua laughed, crossing his arms behind his head like he hadn’t just thrown gasoline on an invisible fire. "Nothing, nothing. Just thinking out loud."

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at him, feeling his face heat up in an irritating way. He wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that Joshua was clearly insinuating something or the fact that Mingyu was now looking at him, waiting for a reaction.

"Fuck you, Shua."

★

It wasn’t normal for them to fuck with anyone in the dorm. It was weird, and Mingyu felt extremely dirty. Not because he didn’t like it—obviously, fucking Jeon Wonwoo was one of the highest points of his life.

But he hated the looks.

It was a relatively big dorm.

Well, at least it was bigger than the previous one.

The rooms were split into five.

Jeonghan and Seungkwan.

Jun, Jihoon, and Joshua.

Dokyeom, Minghao, and Seungcheol.

Chan, Soonyoung, and Hansol.

Mingyu and Wonwoo.

There was nothing to complain about; it was the most suitable arrangement and the only one that managed to please everyone.

But sharing two bathrooms was an endless inconvenience.

Especially when you fucked your roommate.

Especially when you were covered in his cum when you both finished.

Especially when, every time you left the room and put your hand on the doorknob, someone was already waiting for their turn in the damn bathroom.

And then you’d go back to the room, sticky, feeling disgusting and judged, only to come face to face with Jeon Wonwoo, completely asleep.

Mingyu let out a sigh, irritated with himself.

He hated giving in.

He felt less uncomfortable when there were only two or three of the boys in the dorm because they were usually either sleeping or playing something that required headphones.

But Jeon Wonwoo…

“Idiot,” he whispered, leaning against the door. Wonwoo could have sex in the living room while the other eleven were asleep in their rooms, and he wouldn’t care.

Mingyu felt like a coward.

He was just cautious—what was wrong with that? Nothing.

But what was wrong with Wonwoo’s complete lack of a sense of danger? Everything.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He was stressed.

He wanted to shower. He needed to shower. But he hated the idea of stepping out and facing the other members in the hallway, with those looks… those looks that always seemed to know more than they should.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to ignore the sticky sensation against his skin. God, he needed to stop doing this in the dorm. They needed to stop. But every time he thought about it, every time he decided that next time, it wouldn’t happen…

All it took was one look, one misplaced touch, and there he was again, back against the wall or knees on the mattress, forgetting any sense of responsibility he had.

He looked at the bed again, at Wonwoo, and his frustration only grew.

Because there he was, sleeping like nothing had happened.

As if Mingyu being in this state wasn’t his fault.

As if he wasn’t the one who had pulled Mingyu onto the mattress less than an hour ago and whispered, I want you, please… They’re still asleep.

Bastard.

Mingyu pressed his lips together, feeling frustration mix with exhaustion. He walked to the wardrobe, grabbing the first clean clothes he found and getting ready to leave.

When he opened the door, the first thing he saw after taking a few steps was Joshua.

Great.

The older man was standing in the hallway, damp hair and arms crossed, clearly waiting for his turn in the bathroom.

God, remind me never to live in a dorm again when I’m famous, Mingyu thought.

Joshua looked at him for a second and then… that smile.

Mingyu wished someone would descend from the heavens and kill him on the spot.

He didn’t know what Joshua knew. Didn’t know if he actually knew or if he just suspected, but it didn’t matter. The smug look was enough.

He expected that look from Jeonghan, but Joshua? He only gave that look when he really felt like he had figured something out.

“Come on, it’s six in the morning,” Mingyu muttered. Did no one respect post-morning-sex necessities?

“Good morning to you too, Gyu,” Joshua said casually, but Mingyu walked past him. As he put his hand on the door, he heard exactly what he knew was coming.

“You’ll have to wait.”

“Who’s using the bathroom at six in the morning?”

“Seokmin’s in there. From what I heard, he’s going to take a while.”

Mingyu wanted to curse. He wanted to scream. He wanted to barge in there and drag Dokyeom out. But all he did was let out an irritated sigh and rest his head against the wall, accepting that he would never be the first to use the bathroom in this damn dorm.

“He has a schedule. And you?” Joshua stepped closer, his voice too sweet for Mingyu to feel safe. “Who wakes up on a day off to shower in this cold?”

Mingyu closed his eyes for a second, trying to find the patience to deal with this at six in the morning. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to play this insinuation game.

Because Joshua was the kind of person who only spoke when he was sure. And, fuck, that was the last thing Mingyu needed.

“I just want to shower, Hyung,” he murmured, head still against the wall. The older man hummed in a way that almost sounded like agreement.

Mingyu sighed, hoping Joshua had lost interest in the topic. But of course, it was never that easy. He was still there, arms crossed, looking at him with that glint in his eyes.

Mingyu hated that look.

Because Joshua never asked anything directly. He just hinted, threw little truths into the air, and waited for the explosion.

And, fuck, Mingyu was an open book when he was afraid of being found out.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” The older man asked casually, as if it were just a normal question.

“Asleep, obviously. Wonwoo doesn’t wake up at this hour without a reason.”

Silence. An unbearably heavy silence.

“Look, normally, when we have our morning needs—”

“Please, stop.”

“We don’t get off next to our roommate while he’s sleeping!” Joshua whispered.

Mingyu froze.

He blinked once, trying to process what he had just heard. Then he turned to Joshua, slowly.

“You…” He didn’t even know how to respond.

Joshua held back his satisfied smile, his eyes shining with fake innocence, with pure malice. Mingyu felt his face burn.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, running a hand over his face.

Joshua chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the situation. “I’m just saying, if you want to be less obvious, maybe wait for your roommate to wake up… before walking out looking like you know you did something wrong.”

Mingyu closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

It was humiliating.

It was too humiliating.

But at least Joshua didn’t insinuate anything more.

It was fine if he thought Mingyu had been jerking off next to Wonwoo.

It was not fine for him to imply they were fucking.

At least there was some sort of boundary.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. It’s advice from an older person, so listen!” Mingyu glared at him, scoffing. Joshua was a bastard. A fake angel.

Gentleman? My ass!

He wanted to punch that innocent smile off his face, but if he did, it would only make him look even guiltier. Because Joshua didn’t need confirmation—he needed a reaction.

And, fuck, Mingyu reacted.

He always reacted.

It was annoying, frustrating, and he wished he had any other expression that didn’t give so much away.

Joshua knew that. He knew and was having the time of his life.

“Mingyu…” A deep, still-sleepy voice called from behind him. Please, don’t be Jeon Wonwoo.

“Your phone won’t stop ringing. Do you have something scheduled today?”

It was Wonwoo.

Of course, it was that idiot. He knew that voice.

Exactly the same voice that had whispered his name at five in the morning while Mingyu made the same mistake he kept making.

Maybe the fourth rule should be: CONTROL JEON WONWOO AT ALL COSTS.

★

"This can't happen again," Mingyu said, rummaging through some clothes in the wardrobe, distracted. His eyebrows were furrowed, a slight irritation separating them. "You know he already knows, right? At some point, we'll have to beg him not to tell anyone."

"I'm sorry," Wonwoo whispered, stretching on the bed. He was still wearing Mingyu's shirt. "It was six in the morning, I was groggy. It's just a shirt."

Wonwoo looked at him—his hair was still wet, a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his chest. It was hard to focus on the harsh words coming from his mouth.

"It doesn't matter. If we keep making these same mistakes, maybe it's better to stop doing this here," Mingyu said, grabbing another towel to dry his damp chest.

"Yeah. I know." Wonwoo rested his face on his hand. "Why did you get out of bed?"

Mingyu hesitated for a second, the towel still between his fingers.

"I needed to think." He averted his gaze, refocusing on the wardrobe. "And I needed a shower."

Wonwoo looked at him with a smirk. "And you need clothes to think?"

Mingyu huffed, tossing the towel aside. He was pissed, and Wonwoo knew it—he knew he'd screwed up. "I need distance."

Wonwoo stayed silent for a few seconds.

He watched as Mingyu grabbed a shirt, putting it on with tense movements, as if trying to compose himself—as if trying to ignore the fact that just hours ago, they were on that bed, sharing the same excitement, the same desire, the same heat.

"Distance, then," Wonwoo said, irony lacing his voice. "Does that mean you’re not coming back to the room tonight?"

Mingyu ran a hand over his face. He wanted to say yes. He wanted Wonwoo to take the situation seriously. He wanted Wonwoo to take him seriously.

"You're acting like this is nothing, aren’t you?" Mingyu whispered. He sighed, his necklace shifting as he bent down to grab his phone from the nightstand next to Wonwoo's bed.

"It's not that. It's just… it's seven in the morning. You're already pissed, and I haven’t even fully woken up. I can’t even think straight."

Mingyu sighed, stepping closer to the older man.

His hand was cold when it cupped Wonwoo’s jaw, applying slight pressure—not aggressive, just enough to make Wonwoo look him in the eyes. "Let me spell it out for you."

The way Wonwoo's head tilted was involuntary. He already knew what Mingyu was going to say, but what Mingyu didn’t know was that he already wanted to fuck him again before he even said they couldn't.

"We need to stop fucking in the dorm."

Wonwoo blinked slowly, absorbing the words but not changing his expression. Mingyu’s hand was still on his face, the grip firm, demanding attention—but all Wonwoo could think about was how much he liked that touch.

He licked his lips. "Right. Stop fucking in the dorm," he repeated, voice lazy, dragging.

Mingyu tightened his grip slightly, dark eyes narrowing. "Don't just repeat what I say like it's a joke."

"I'm trying to commit it to memory. Sorry," Wonwoo smirked, as if amused. As if he wasn’t even remotely concerned about the weight of the conversation.

Because Mingyu knew Wonwoo wasn’t stupid. He knew Wonwoo understood the risks, understood the problem they had on their hands—but Wonwoo also knew exactly how to pull the right strings to make Mingyu forget all of that.

Like now.

The loose shirt slipping off his shoulder, the marks Mingyu had left still visible on his skin. That gaze—challenging yet beckoning at the same time.

Mingyu took a deep breath, forcing his fingers to let go of Wonwoo's jaw. He stepped back.

"This isn't up for debate."

Wonwoo turned his head, watching Mingyu as he unlocked his phone, jaw clenched, expression hard.

He sat up in bed, the shirt riding higher on his thighs.

"If it's not up for debate," he started, voice casual but eyes sharp, "then where are we going to do it? Because I’m not waiting until everyone leaves the dorm just to get a moment alone with you."

Mingyu closed his eyes for a second, inhaling deeply like he was clinging to the last remnants of patience.

Wonwoo knew he was poking an open wound, but he couldn’t help himself.

He saw the way Mingyu locked his phone again, fingers gripping it tightly.

The way he held things when he was frustrated was almost violent—like he was always restraining himself from crushing something. And Wonwoo… liked that.

"Didn't you understand what I meant?" Mingyu lifted his head, eyes flashing.

Wonwoo leaned forward slightly, smiling like he was genuinely considering the question.

"I understood," he drawled. "I just don’t agree."

Mingyu let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Great. Because your opinion was exactly what I asked for."

Wonwoo chuckled, shaking his head.

"You can pretend this doesn’t matter, that it’s a rational decision." He pointed at Mingyu, raising a lazy finger. "But the truth is, in two days, you’ll be just as fucked as I am."

Mingyu clenched his jaw, not answering.

"And when that happens, where do you think you’ll want to deal with it?" Wonwoo tilted his head, studying him. "The dorm? The car? Locked in some random bathroom? A motel? I don’t know, any hotel?"

Silence hung between them.

Mingyu didn’t need to answer. They both knew the truth.

Wonwoo smirked, satisfied.

Mingyu looked at him a second longer than he should have, eyes darkening before he turned away.

"You’re unbearable," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"And you're predictable," Wonwoo flopped back onto the bed, comfortable. "Wake me up when you decide where."

★

"Where's Mingyu?" Wonwoo said, walking into the kitchen. It was four in the afternoon—maybe he had slept longer than necessary. He had left the room, taken a shower, and gone to the kitchen, snacking on something while waiting for dinner time.

"He left, I think around seven, almost eight, but he didn't say where he was going," Seungkwan said. He was slouched on the couch, just like Jeonghan and Jihoon. Wonwoo pressed his lips together, feeling uneasy.

Mingyu didn’t say where he was going, and now it was getting dark, and he still hadn’t come back. Wonwoo huffed.

Maybe I should’ve taken that conversation more seriously.

"What’s wrong?" Jeonghan asked, glancing up from his phone.

"He left pissed at me. We didn’t even really talk," Wonwoo said, sitting on the same couch as Jeonghan. The older man lifted his head, resting it on Wonwoo’s lap.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his fingers lazily scrolling on his phone. "Pissed at you? That’s new."

"It’s hard to see Mingyu pissed," Jihoon let out a dry laugh from the other side of the couch. He raised a brow, looking at Wonwoo like he was debating whether or not to dig deeper into the topic. "Did you guys fight?"

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Not exactly."

Jeonghan, who had been quiet until then, tore his eyes away from his laptop screen. "If he left pissed at you and disappeared all day, then it sounds like a fight to me."

Wonwoo didn’t reply right away. He knew Jeonghan was right, but he didn’t want to admit it.

He had almost given away the fact that they’d been fucking multiple times to multiple members. He knew how Mingyu felt about people finding out about them—it terrified him.

Wonwoo didn’t know why exactly.

But it was something he had always respected.

He didn’t know what was happening to himself. He didn’t know why he had developed this urge to break all the rules, to look every member in the face and say, yes, they were together.

With one very important detail—they weren’t.

Seungkwan sat up straight, watching Wonwoo with a sharp look. Maybe he had stayed silent for too long because now the gazes felt more concerned than judgmental. "What did you do?"

Wonwoo sighed.

He wanted to talk. He really wanted to talk. He wanted to ask for advice, to understand why his feelings were so messy when it came to his best friend.

Because that’s what Mingyu was.

Okay, they were also fuck buddies, but that didn’t change the fact that they were still best friends.

And that feeling—of wanting to tell everyone they were together, of wanting everyone to know there was a world that existed just between them inside that shared room—was suffocating.

Wonwoo felt suffocated.

He felt suffocated because he couldn’t say how good he had felt since they broke the first rule.

He felt suffocated because he couldn’t say how much more at home he felt after they broke the second rule.

He felt suffocated because he couldn’t say how comfortable he felt falling asleep on his best friend’s chest after sharing an intimate moment in bed.

It was suffocating not being able to verbalize how fierce and passionate Mingyu’s kisses were.

It was suffocating to pretend that Mingyu’s kiss hadn’t become his favorite part of sex.

Seungkwan observed Wonwoo’s silence with an expression that showed he knew something deeper was happening, even if he couldn’t pinpoint what.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, seemed more attentive, his gaze sharp as he waited for Wonwoo’s response.

But what he didn’t know was that, inside, Wonwoo was at war with himself.

He wanted to say everything, to get that weight off his chest, but something stopped him. The fear of what Mingyu would think, the fear of losing what they had, even if it was a mess.

They were breaking rules, yes, but there was something there that neither of them could deny.

It was more than physical, more than the thrill of fleeting, reckless moments. It was the feeling that, despite everything, they belonged to each other in a way that no words could define.

"I don’t know what’s happening to me," Wonwoo finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper, his eyes fixed on his hands as he intertwined his fingers. "Maybe he’s right, after all…"

Seungkwan furrowed his brows, but Jeonghan shook his head, making a small gesture with his hand, signaling them to drop the questions.

"Let’s talk alone," Jeonghan stood up, squeezing Wonwoo’s shoulders slightly.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything else as he led Wonwoo out of the living room, past the kitchen, and up the stairs to the shared bedroom.

As soon as they entered, he closed the door behind them and leaned against it, arms behind his back, his expression unreadable.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or do you want me to guess?" Jeonghan asked, his voice soft but carrying that tone that meant he already knew what he was talking about.

These weren’t just suspicions anymore.

Wonwoo stayed silent for a while, the words stuck in his throat. He knew Jeonghan wouldn’t pressure him, but he also knew that if he didn’t say something now, he’d end up overthinking it alone until he went crazy.

He sat on the bed, pressing his palm into his own hand.

It was a habit of Mingyu’s.

Mingyu pressed his palm when he was nervous.

"I was careless…" he started, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I think he… is ashamed of this."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, pushing off the door and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Can you be more specific? Ashamed of what?"

Wonwoo sighed.

He knew Jeonghan was making him say it out loud on purpose.

He had never said it out loud before.

"You know…"

Jeonghan let out a brief, humorless laugh.

"Do I?" He tilted his head, his eyes scanning every small movement Wonwoo made. "I want to hear it from you."

Wonwoo ran his tongue over his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. He wanted to avoid this conversation, to pretend everything was fine, that he wasn’t thinking about Mingyu, that he wasn’t feeling this weight in his chest that shouldn’t be there.

But it was.

And Jeonghan knew it.

"He’s ashamed of being with me," Wonwoo finally said, his voice quieter than he intended. He clenched his fists, feeling his own breathing grow heavier.

He felt Jeonghan’s gaze burn into him.

"We set rules, Jeonghan. We agreed it was just sex. But every time I forget that, every time I get close to—" He stopped, swallowing hard. "Close to showing that this might be more than what it is, he gets like this."

Jeonghan crossed his arms, shaking his head like he had expected that answer.

"And have you ever considered that there might be another reason he acts like this? Other than him supposedly being ashamed of being with you?"

Wonwoo frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jeonghan sighed, looking at him like he was explaining something obvious. "I think he might really be scared… but have you ever considered that his fear comes from something else?"

Wonwoo blinked, hesitant. "Something else?"

Jeonghan tilted his head slightly, as if choosing his words carefully.

"You say he’s ashamed of being with you, but are you sure that’s what it is? Or is he afraid of what this means?"

Wonwoo went silent.

Afraid of what this means.

He had never thought of it that way.

He had always assumed the problem was him—that Mingyu didn’t want to be associated with him like that, that he wanted to keep everything a secret to avoid judgment.

But what if… what if that wasn’t it?

What if Mingyu was running away from himself?

"He doesn’t talk about these things," Wonwoo murmured, almost to himself. "He always changes the subject or pretends he doesn’t get it. But every time he pulls away, he comes back. Every time."

Jeonghan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"And you never considered that maybe he’s just as confused as you are?"

Wonwoo clenched his fists.

Of course, he had thought about that.

Of course, he had spent countless nights wondering if Mingyu felt even a fraction of what he did.

But every time he got close to believing it, Mingyu did something to send him right back to square one.

It was frustrating.

It was suffocating.

And at the same time, it was addicting.

Because, at the end of the day, Mingyu always came back.

And maybe that was what hurt the most.

★

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Mingyu felt slender hands on his shoulders, arms wrapping around him with an unfamiliar warmth. He looked down, sighing. He shouldn't be here.

"Nothing happened. I just... I missed you," he whispered, but a sweet laugh filled his ears, almost agonizing. He shouldn't be here.

But he felt like he needed to be.

It was stronger than him.

He needed to clear his head, to remind his pathetic mind that he could go out with whoever he wanted now.

He didn't need Wonwoo.

Wonwoo needed him.

He put an end to it, and his word was final. Screw this sudden need—he would handle it like any man would.

"You never come to see me just because you miss me," the girl pushed him playfully. True, he never sought her out simply because he missed her.

Normally, he went to her when Wonwoo wasn't available.

And that was the problem.

Wonwoo shouldn't be the first choice.

She should be the first choice.

"Tired?" she asked, massaging his back. That touch burned like fire—not in a good way, but in a way Mingyu couldn't quite put into words. "You're acting weird."

She laughed, standing up from the bed. It didn’t take much for her to slide onto his lap. His hands instinctively went to her waist, but something was off.

Something didn’t fit.

"I'm working a lot," Mingyu murmured, feeling her hands on his neck, caressing him in what was supposed to be a comforting touch. "We're all really tired."

"I get it," she whispered, her hands trailing down his bare chest. "The girls are complaining about work too—it's exhausting, but... at least..."

"At least?" he prompted, as if searching for an answer she clearly wasn’t going to give.

"Work has its rewards, Min."

Don't call me that.

"You might be tired now, but think long-term," she smiled, squeezing his shoulders in a way that was almost reassuring. "And, well, I'd say you're already reaping what you've sown."

Mingyu averted his gaze, forcing a small smile, as if trying to accept her words.

"It doesn’t matter. I’ll still feel this way," he admitted, almost involuntarily. She looked at him as if trying to understand, but she didn’t ask.

She didn’t care about that. She didn’t care about him.

She wanted something he didn’t want.

She just wanted his body.

She was talking nonsense, trying to clean him with dirty rags.

That was all she wanted—just one thing.

To be with someone good-looking, with status, on the rise in their career. That’s how everyone in the industry thought. That’s how they looked at him. Like a piece of meat.

But what’s the difference between her and Wonwoo?

What does he feel for you that she doesn’t?

She wants to own you.

She wants to use you.

She wants your body.

She wants you to be her little pleasure machine.

And. What. Was. The. Difference. Between. Them?

Wonwoo didn’t care about him—not in that way. He didn’t care if Mingyu wanted more than just the physical.

He wanted pleasure.

They had an agreement.

They had rules.

Everything Mingyu felt was reduced to a contract.

Wonwoo didn’t love him.

Wonwoo didn’t want him.

He just wanted relief.

He wanted someone to satisfy him every night.

So, what was the difference, after all?

Mingyu sighed, feeling warm breath on his neck. He closed his eyes. He didn’t need Wonwoo. He didn’t need anyone.

He didn’t want to be cornered—if he was just a pastime, just an arrangement, then fine! He made a mistake by getting feelings involved.

He made a mistake by letting himself get this close.

They were best friends.

They were best friends!

This wasn’t supposed to happen. What the hell was he thinking when he decided to get involved like this? Sleeping with his best friend? Cheesy and dangerous.

Was this really the path he chose?

He sighed, feeling fingernails scraping his shoulder.

"I feel like you're not paying attention to me the way you should."

"Sorry," he said, patting her waist lightly so she knew it was time to move. He stood up, fingers going to the buttons of his shirt.

He had done this before, with other girls and with her, but now it was different.

He didn’t know how, but it was.

His shirt slipped from his shoulders, falling onto the mattress without rush. She watched him expectantly—waiting for a move, an initiative, anything to prove that he was still there, that he still wanted to be there.

But Mingyu felt the weight of the fabric leaving his body as if something inside him was being torn away with it.

He ran his tongue over his lips, moistening them, tasting the metallic tang of his own hesitation.

She smiled. A light, suggestive smile that should have made him want to keep going.

But it didn’t.

He took two steps forward, feeling the bed press against his knees. He leaned down, moving onto the mattress with tense movements, holding his breath. Her breath was warm against his skin.

Her hands trailed slowly up his back, as if waiting for a reaction—one that didn’t come. But he didn’t stop her. He didn’t push her away, yet he didn’t reciprocate either.

Because, in that moment, he wasn’t there.

He was across the city.

Between laughter and subtle touches.

He was in a room where men's shirts were tangled together, where a single glance left him dizzy beneath a pair of glasses.

"Min…" her voice slipped into his ears, soft, breathy, but not comforting.

Please, don’t call me that.

Mingyu shut his eyes, the damp heat on his neck making his mind short-circuit.

No one called him that.

No one called him that.

"You’re special, Min." Wonwoo’s voice echoed in his mind. He opened his eyes quickly, as if startled. His phone was ringing. He took a deep breath, running a hand over his neck as if overwhelmed.

"What’s wrong?" she chuckled awkwardly, her hands kneading his shoulders. "It’s just the phone, relax."

He shook his head. "Sorry… I… I need to check it." He pulled away slowly, watching her sink into the pillows with a small smirk.

What was their problem?

Why did they always seem so satisfied?

[Wonwoo] 19:27
Min, can you talk?

Mingyu sighed.

No, he couldn’t.

[Mingyu] 19:31
Yeah. What happened? Is everything okay over there?

[Wonwoo] 19:34
In person.

Mingyu's heart skipped a beat, but he shook his head. No. Stop this.

That’s why he doesn’t take you seriously.

Always available.

Always there when he wants.

Always there when he needs.

[Mingyu] 19:40
Not sure if I’ll be back at the dorm tonight.

[Wonwoo] 19:41
Please, Min. I need to talk to you.

Mingyu pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a second. It was so hard not to give in.

[Wonwoo] 19:45
I was worried about you all day.
If you can… forget about what happened this morning… please.
I know it might seem like I don’t respect your wishes, but I really regret it.
Please talk to me.
I can meet you wherever you are.

Mingyu pressed his lips together. Those words felt like knives to his chest, even if he fought to admit it.

"Someone more important than me?" she murmured, hugging him from behind. He could feel that she was only in lingerie. She kissed his back slowly. "Don’t tell me you’re leaving."

Mingyu closed his eyes for a moment, feeling her lips on his skin. The warm breath, the familiar scent of perfume mixed with expensive wine from the afternoon.

He should stay.

Should prove to himself that he could resist.

But Wonwoo…

He shouldn’t have said that.

"I was worried about you all day."

Mingyu knew Wonwoo didn’t waste words. If he said it, it meant he really was worried.

And if Wonwoo was worried, maybe…maybe it meant he cared.

[Mingyu] 20:12
Where do you want to meet?

★

The bar was nearly empty when Mingyu arrived.

Wonwoo was already seated on one of the high stools, elbows resting on the counter, absentmindedly spinning a glass between his fingers. The warm yellow light of the place cast soft shadows on his face.

Mingyu took a deep breath before approaching, feeling a strange unease twisting in his stomach. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had come. Maybe because he wanted to. Maybe because he needed to.

Or maybe because, deep down, he was always going to come back.

Wonwoo lifted his eyes the moment he sensed Mingyu’s presence. Something flickered there—a mix of relief and exhaustion that Mingyu couldn’t quite decipher.

“You came,” Wonwoo said simply.

Mingyu pulled a stool beside him and sat down without responding immediately. His gaze drifted from the half-filled glass in front of the other to his face. “What happened?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Wonwoo ran his fingers over the rim of his glass, sighing. “I was worried about you.” His voice was quiet, as if admitting it out loud made it more real. “You disappeared all day. I asked everyone at the dorm, and no one knew where you were.”

Mingyu averted his gaze, feeling a slight pang of guilt.

He didn’t want to admit that he had spent the day trying to distract himself, trying to prove to himself that he could ignore the weight that Wonwoo had on him.

But here he was.

Sitting next to him.

Again.

“I needed some time alone,” he replied, oversimplifying. “Sorry if I made you worry.”

Wonwoo let out a brief, humorless laugh, bringing the glass to his lips before responding.

“You always need time alone after we fight. Especially when it’s about that topic.”

Mingyu tensed. The way Wonwoo said “that topic” without needing to specify anything made his throat dry.

He knew exactly what it was about.

“It’s not that simple,” he muttered, gripping his knees beneath the counter.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, spinning his glass between his fingers again. “No, it’s not. But that doesn’t mean we have to pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Mingyu let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not pretending.”

“Yes, you are.” Wonwoo countered, his voice still calm but carrying a tiredness that was impossible to miss. “You always do this. You disappear, avoid looking me in the eye for a while, as if that’s going to erase everything.”

Mingyu didn’t respond.

He stared at the drink in front of him, watching the amber liquid swirl slightly in the glass. The truth was, Wonwoo was right. He always ran. Always tried to shrink everything into something smaller than it really was.

Because admitting what it truly meant…

He didn’t know if he was ready for that.

“I just…” Mingyu started, but the words died before he could finish them.

Wonwoo watched him for a moment before sighing, visibly exhausted.

“Look, I didn’t come here to fight again,” he said, pushing his glass away. “I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

The simplicity of the phrase tightened something in Mingyu’s chest.

He looked up at him, and for a second, everything seemed clearer than he would have liked.

Wonwoo’s face under the warm light, his attentive eyes, the unspoken concern hidden behind every word.

And suddenly, running away seemed far too exhausting.

“Did you… meet up with someone?”

The question caught Mingyu off guard. His shoulders tensed, and for a moment, he just blinked, as if he hadn’t understood.

“Why are you asking that?” he shot back, his voice sounding more defensive than he intended.

Wonwoo looked away. His face remained calm, but there was an intensity in his eyes that Mingyu knew all too well. “Because I want to know.”

A mix of anger and discomfort built inside Mingyu. It was typical of Wonwoo to put things this way—direct, impossible to ignore.

“Yes,” he finally answered, trying to keep his tone controlled.

Wonwoo didn’t react immediately.

His gaze remained fixed on a random spot on the counter, and for a moment, Mingyu almost wished he would say something sarcastic, throw one of those sharp remarks he used when he wanted to protect himself.

But Wonwoo only nodded slowly, as if absorbing the answer.

“I see,” he said simply.

Mingyu felt an unfamiliar unease growing inside him.

He wanted Wonwoo to ask questions, to get angry. But his restrained reaction was worse than any argument.

“It wasn’t anything,” he rushed to say, not even knowing why he was justifying himself. “I just… needed a distraction.”

Wonwoo let out a short, humorless laugh. “Of course. A distraction.”

He finally looked up at Mingyu, and there was something different in his gaze—a kind of weariness Mingyu wasn’t sure he had ever seen before.

“You know this doesn’t change anything, right?” Wonwoo continued, resting his elbows on the counter. “You can meet whoever you want, go out as much as you need, but in the end, you always come back to me.”

Mingyu didn’t know how to respond.

The words froze him for a second, but then something inside him burned—offended, too offended to ignore the way Wonwoo had said it.

“I’m not your dog.” The words came out harsher than he intended. He wanted to be sarcastic, to mock it, but all he felt was anger mixed with a different kind of sadness.

Wonwoo stared at him for a moment, as if evaluating Mingyu’s words.

There was no anger in his eyes, only a patience that almost hurt more than any shouting match.

“I know,” he finally said, his voice calm but carrying a weight Mingyu didn’t know how to handle. “That’s not what I meant.”

Mingyu swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat.

He didn’t know what was happening between them or why every word exchanged felt harder to process than the last.

It wasn’t about what they had said—it was about what was behind it.

Something Mingyu no longer wanted to face.

“So, what do you mean?” Mingyu asked, exhaling sharply as he stood up. “No, wait. You want me to say what it sounds like? It sounds like you’re trying to trap me in this mess.”

Wonwoo didn’t move.

His eyes followed Mingyu as he stood up, his expression still calm, but the tension visible in the lines of his face.

He took a deep breath, as if gathering patience, but his body was tense, his shoulders slightly curved, as if the accusation had hit a nerve.

“Mingyu…” He started, but his voice faltered, almost uncertain, as if searching for the best way to handle the situation.

Mingyu took a few steps, anger and discomfort swirling inside him.

It wasn’t just frustration over what was happening between them—it was the feeling of being trapped in something he didn’t know how to resolve.

“I was in bed.” Mingyu took a step forward, cornering Wonwoo against the counter, his voice unsettlingly aggressive—something Wonwoo had never even considered happening. “I was in bed with a woman.”

Wonwoo remained still, eyes locked on Mingyu, as if processing each word, trying to understand exactly what Mingyu wanted him to do.

He touched Mingyu’s chest to push him back slightly, the way Mingyu had trapped him against the counter becoming increasingly claustrophobic.

Mingyu gripped his hands tightly, but made no move to let go.

“I was in bed with her, and all I could think about was how much of an idiot I was and…” His voice trembled, and Wonwoo’s gaze softened as he saw the tears welling up in Mingyu’s eyes. “And how much you didn’t love me.”

The weight of his words hung between them, suffocating.

And Wonwoo, despite everything, reached out and pulled him into an embrace.

Mingyu was there, right in front of him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and Wonwoo felt every word, every syllable that left Mingyu's mouth like a sharp blade.

"I don't care who you've been in bed with, Mingyu." Wonwoo's voice was calm, but inside, he was crumbling.

He reached out, gently touching Mingyu’s arm, trying to soften the tension, trying to keep the weight of their words from pulling them further apart.

He pulled him into a hug, letting the younger bury his face in his neck. He felt it when Mingyu started crying, his shoulders shaking.

"I only care about what you feel. What you feel, right now, here." Wonwoo said, with a sincerity that cut through everything around them—including Mingyu’s anger. "I'm sorry for this..."

The tension in the air was suffocating, but the moment Wonwoo held him, Mingyu felt an unexpected relief.

Not the kind of relief that comes from resolving a conflict, but the kind that comes from exhaustion—the sheer fatigue of carrying something for too long.

He buried his face deeper into Wonwoo’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent, the closeness that scared him so much. It felt like surrendering to something he had no control over.

"Min..." Wonwoo's voice was low but filled with a calmness that felt almost healing. "I know I was an idiot for setting those rules. I know I put limits on your feelings, but… they weren’t for you. They were for me..."

Mingyu pulled back slightly, his face still streaked with tears, his confused eyes locked onto Wonwoo. Wonwoo felt the sting of realizing that, deep down, maybe he had built a wall between them—but he hadn’t known how to break it down once they had crossed the line of friendship.

"I made rules because… you're my best friend, Min..." Wonwoo smiled, a tired smile. "I know how easy it is to fall for you."

Mingyu stood there, confusion swirling in his eyes, pain cutting through him from the inside. But Wonwoo’s words hit a vital point: "I know how easy it is to fall for you."

Mingyu stayed silent for a moment, trying to process what he had just heard.

He wanted to scream, wanted to leave, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny the truth hanging in the air between them.

"You think I didn’t fall for you?" Wonwoo asked, his voice laced with something almost amused, but his eyes held nothing but sadness. "Of course I fell for you. Before the first kiss. Before sleeping in your arms. Before breaking all the rules… I already… loved you."

Mingyu froze, as if the ground had been ripped from beneath his feet.

Wonwoo’s words hit him like a physical impact, an invisible punch that knocked the air out of his lungs.

He had known there was something more between them, something unspoken, but hearing it out loud, so calmly, made the weight of his emotions crash down all at once.

Mingyu took a step back, almost stumbling, but not fully pulling away. The space between them felt massive now, as if, in an instant, everything had shifted. He wanted to understand, wanted to react, but the words were out of reach.

"I fell for you too, Wonwoo." The confession slipped out in a whisper, almost as if he couldn’t believe he was actually saying it. "But I was scared. Scared of… losing what we had. Scared that if I said it out loud, everything would break because… You said it would break."

Mingyu’s confession felt like it made time stand still, as if the air had tightened between them, making every word ring louder than any scream.

Wonwoo watched him, the surprise on his face slowly melting into something softer, more vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, Min." Wonwoo's voice was quieter now, but still carried a pain he couldn’t hide. "I didn't want to lose you. So I pushed my feelings down… And in doing that, I ended up pushing yours down too. And I’m sorry for that."

The realization that all this time, they had been in the same place—just on opposite sides of an invisible wall—made Mingyu's chest tighten.

It was a strange feeling, like everything around them had lost its meaning, yet at the same time, everything had become so much clearer.

"Hyung..." Mingyu murmured, his voice low and unsteady. "You should’ve told me how you felt. Everything felt so complicated… because we never knew what we were."

Wonwoo took a careful step toward him, as if afraid that getting too close would make everything fall apart again. "I only knew that I was scared of losing you. And sometimes, fear makes you make all the wrong choices."

Mingyu looked at him, feeling a mix of relief and confusion building inside. He wanted to say more, but the words felt useless—because somehow, everything had already been said.

"Can I hug you again?" Wonwoo whispered. Mingyu inhaled deeply, stepping forward and wrapping the older in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry..."

"Stop apologizing."

"I feel like I'll never be able to stop apologizing."

"You don’t have to." Mingyu whispered, exhaling, and it sounded almost like relief. His hands traced slow, comforting circles on Wonwoo’s back. "I'm sorry for what I said about you. I didn’t realize that… you had feelings for me."

"About me holding you back?" Wonwoo murmured, his hand gently resting on Mingyu’s side.

"Yeah. I thought that… I thought that was all you wanted. Just sex." Because that was the deal, after all. Just sex.

"I know, Min." His voice was calmer now, but there was still a lingering pain that wouldn’t fully disappear. "I confused you. I put you in this position without letting you see what it really meant. I made those rules and limits thinking they would protect us, but I ended up pushing you away. I made you feel like there was only space for this… for something shallow."

Mingyu sighed, like those words were exactly what he needed to hear. Like there was nothing more fitting in that moment.

"I love you, Mingyu." The words felt like a release, a confession Wonwoo had carried for far too long.

Chapter Text

Rule number one (⬆️⬆️⬆️ updated): Don’t stop watching the person you love while they sleep.

The morning sun filtered through the white curtains, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. Mingyu was lying on his side, eyes still half-open, quietly observing the peaceful features of Wonwoo sleeping beside him.

He was breathing slowly, his face half-buried in the pillow, messy strands of hair sticking out in every direction.

Mingyu reached out carefully, like someone afraid of breaking a sacred moment, and lightly touched the tip of Wonwoo’s nose.

“You’re staring at me again,” came the muffled, husky voice, and a small smile tugged at the older man’s lips, even without opening his eyes.

Mingyu chuckled quietly. “Maybe. But only because you look beautiful when you sleep.”

Wonwoo cracked one eye open and turned, pulling Mingyu closer by the waist, their bodies pressing together. “And you sound ridiculous saying things like that first thing in the morning.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” Mingyu corrected, resting his forehead against his.

They stayed quiet for a while, just feeling each other’s warmth. Nothing urgent needing to be said. No lingering hurt in the back of their throats.

“It’s my day off today. Do you have anything going on?” Mingyu whispered, kissing the corner of Wonwoo’s face.

“Photoshoot for a glasses brand.” Wonwoo closed his eyes again, as if just thinking about it made him feel the exhaustion. “The concept is ‘urban,’ but I know they’re gonna make me ride a bike in a suit again.”

Mingyu laughed against his neck, the sound muffled against warm skin. “You look sexy anyway—even if it’s like a CEO lost in a park.”

“You’re being way too cheeky today,” Wonwoo grumbled, though he couldn’t hide the smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You should come with me. Stand behind the camera, make me laugh. All the pictures would come out crooked and they’d fire me.”

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at him. “If you get fired, we’ll run away to a house in the countryside. Grow potatoes. Raise chickens.”

“You’d last three days before trying to bathe the chicken.”

Mingyu made a face. “Okay, maybe two days tops.”

Wonwoo reached up and brushed a stubborn lock of hair from his forehead. The touch was light, almost unconscious. “Let’s make a deal?”

“Another one? I thought we were done with those,” Mingyu raised an eyebrow, half-suspicious.

“It’s not exactly a rule. Just…” Wonwoo paused, his gaze softening. “Let’s promise that even when things get chaotic again… we always come back to this. Mornings like this.”

Mingyu was quiet for a moment. He looked at him—that face he knew so well, and still found new details in every day.

“Okay,” he said firmly. “It’s a promise.”

And then he leaned in, sealing the deal with a calm, warm, and certain kiss.

This was what they were building now—not just a love, but a place they could always return to.

★ Rule number two: Never stop admiring and supporting your partner.

“Great!! You two make a perfect pair.” The photographer called out. Wonwoo was being positioned next to Sana for some glasses brand shots, both of them on a bicycle.

Just like he said they would be.

“You’re so good at this. I don’t know how you do it,” Wonwoo said, wiping his forehead as he looked at her. Sana laughed, adjusting her glasses before answering. “I just imagine the camera is my boyfriend asking me to smile. Works every time.”

Wonwoo smiled back, shaking his head. “Maybe I should try that.”

She tilted her head, watching him playfully. “Do you have someone?”

Wonwoo’s smile faltered. He knew he couldn’t say, not because of both their careers, so he just shook his head. “No. That’s why I’ll have to imagine.”

Sana nodded with a knowing smile, not pushing. “Then imagine well. Maybe that ‘someone’ will feel it, wherever they are.”

Wonwoo let out a nearly silent sigh and looked down for a moment before getting on the bike next to her, adjusting his posture as the photographer gave directions.

From the other side of the studio, behind the equipment, Mingyu watched silently. His eyes partly hidden by the brim of his cap, arms crossed like he was pretending not to care. But every move Wonwoo made was followed with quiet attention.

When he heard his boyfriend’s response, a silent ache pulled at his chest. Not of hurt—but of everything they still had to keep hidden.

“Camera’s ready! Perfect lighting! Let’s go, action!”

The shutter clicked, and Wonwoo turned his face as if looking off into the distance—and for a second, his eyes met Mingyu’s.

And he smiled.

Not at the camera, not at Sana, not for the brand’s audience.

But for him.

Mingyu felt the air leave his lungs slowly, and his heart settled. He knew exactly what that smile meant.

That’s when a familiar voice cut through the ambient noise.

“Mingyu?!”

He turned, surprised, finding Sana walking toward him with her glasses still pushed up on her head and a smile that mixed surprise with something else he couldn’t quite place.

“Didn’t know you were coming today,” she said, fixing her hair as she stopped in front of him.

Mingyu kept a small smile. “Just came to see how Wonwoo was doing. Worried dongsaeng curiosity.”

She laughed, but there was something in her eyes—a quiet memory, maybe. “He’s doing great. Seriously. You should see his face in the photos… like he’s looking at someone he truly loves.”

Mingyu glanced away for a second, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I saw.”

Sana looked at him with a calmer expression, like someone who had just confirmed a suspicion. She didn’t seem hurt—just a little nostalgic.

“I’m happy for you two,” she said softly, sincerely. “Really.”

Mingyu stared at her for a moment, surprised. “Thanks. For not making this weird.”

She shrugged with a small smile. “We were just a chapter, Min. He… he’s clearly the book.”

“How did you know about us?”

Sana gave a half-smile, glancing at Wonwoo, still posing for the camera with a light in his eyes she’d never seen before.

“Because I’ve been there, in his place,” she answered gently, turning her gaze back to Mingyu. “But he… he looks at you differently. Like everything makes sense when you’re around.”

Mingyu felt his chest tighten—not with guilt, but with something unexpectedly deep.

Sana went on, her tone serene, like someone who had truly moved on. “And you’re different too. When we were a thing… you always felt like your mind was somewhere else. But now, you’re all here.”

He lowered his gaze, swallowing the reply that didn’t need to be said.

“I knew,” she repeated more softly, “because sometimes, silence between two people says more than any touch… And honestly, it was weird how you always stopped having sex with me to go meet up with him.”

Mingyu let out a nervous laugh, scratching his neck, unsure what to say. Sana’s bluntness always caught him off guard—direct as ever.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, half-awkward, half-genuine.

Sana just laughed lightly, no bitterness in her voice. “Don’t be. I think, deep down, I already knew someone else came before me—even when you didn’t know it yet.”

She looked at him once more with that gaze that no longer expected anything—just understood.

“I just hope he knows how much you’ve changed for him. How much more you you’ve become.”

And then she winked, light and easy, before walking back to the dressing room.

Mingyu stayed there for a few more seconds, heart a little more exposed, but strangely at peace.

★ Rule number three: If the world can’t see you, find ways to remember you exist in each other.

The restaurant was full, loud enough for conversations to blend together, but not so loud that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts.

Wonwoo was idly stirring his food with his chopsticks, smiling politely at the executive next to him. Across the table, Mingyu did the same—laughing on cue, nodding in agreement.

But their eyes? They kept finding each other across the noise.

Wonwoo’s leg brushed Mingyu’s under the table—a light touch, almost accidental. But it was enough.

Mingyu looked up, and for a brief second, it was like they were alone. Like all the talk of contracts and digital engagement goals had disappeared.

Wonwoo raised his glass of water, like offering a toast, and said softly, still looking at Mingyu: “To the things no one can see.”

Mingyu understood. He gave a small, knowing smile. Clinked his glass against Wonwoo’s and replied: “And to the ones that are real anyway.”

The surrounding conversation continued, cameras at a distance captured nothing more than two idols behaving like old colleagues.

But under the table, Mingyu squeezed Wonwoo’s hand discreetly.

And in that hidden touch was the reminder:

They were still there. In each other. Always.

★ Rule number four: turn spaces into memories — it doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s with him.

The new apartment still smelled like fresh paint and cardboard boxes. Voices echoed off the empty walls, and the late afternoon light streamed through the tall windows, painting the floor in gold.

Mingyu appeared in the hallway carrying a microwave on his head. “Tell me this is where we’re going to fight about who burned the rice.”

Wonwoo, sitting on the floor between two boxes, raised an eyebrow. “It’s definitely going to be you.”

“Slander. At least I know you’re not supposed to heat up rice in the microwave with the container sealed.” Mingyu replied, placing the microwave on the makeshift kitchen counter. He looked around, a bit out of breath, half-smiling. “We actually did this, huh?”

“We did,” Wonwoo said, and for a second, his eyes shone in a way that had nothing to do with the reflection of the sun.

Mingyu crossed the room in long strides and flopped down next to him on the floor, bumping his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. They sat like that for a few seconds, in silence, surrounded by labeled boxes and future promises.

“Do you think this is going to work?” Mingyu asked, more out of habit than real doubt.

Wonwoo rested his head on Mingyu’s shoulder. “I didn’t bring you here for it to work. I brought you here to be real. Like… real life. With mess, laughter, and cuddles.”

Mingyu smiled, his heart warm, even with the hard floor under his back.

“Rule number four,” Wonwoo murmured after a while, “we turn this place into a home. But only because you’re in it.”

Mingyu turned his face, pressing his lips to Wonwoo’s messy hair.

“Deal. Home is you.”

And then they went back to stacking boxes, building crooked furniture, and arguing about where the couch should go — all with the quiet certainty that even empty, that space was already the right place.

★ Rule number five: never go to sleep without trying to understand the other’s side.

Rain fell outside, tapping gently against the windows of the newly organized apartment. But inside, the mood was different.

“You could’ve just told me you were going to be late,” Wonwoo said, voice low, controlled, the way it always got when he was truly upset.

Mingyu ran a hand through his wet hair, still wearing his soaked coat. “I tried! My phone died in the middle of the meeting. It’s not like I disappeared for fun, Won.”

“It’s just… you always tell me. Even when you’re swamped. And today I waited. With the food ready. The table set.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any shouting.

Mingyu dropped his keys on the counter with a sigh. “I’m just... exhausted. Everything’s happening all at once, and—”

“And I’m here too,” Wonwoo interrupted, not angrily, but with a tired kind of sadness. “I’m trying too. I just wanted you to let me be part of it.”

Mingyu paused. His brow was still furrowed, but his gaze began to soften.

He walked over, took off his wet coat, and sat on the edge of the couch. “I forgot for a second that it’s not just me dealing with things anymore. That you wait for me too. Not for the food, but for me.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything right away. He just took a deep breath, eyes glassy but not falling.

Mingyu leaned in and held his hand. “Rule number five?” he whispered.

Wonwoo finally looked at him.

“Rule number five: don’t go to sleep angry. And don’t let silence become distance.”

Mingyu nodded. “Even when it’s hard.”

“Especially when it’s hard.”

And that night, they ate cold food, barefoot, sitting on the kitchen floor — because everything that needed to be said had been said. And everything that needed to be felt... had been too.

★ Rule number six: jealousy is resolved through conversation, not silence.

The party was loud, lit by colorful lights and cellphone flashes. It was the launch of a new collection for the brand the group endorsed, and, as always, the place was filled with familiar faces, camera clicks, and rehearsed poses.

Mingyu was quieter than usual. A drink in hand, his eyes drifted across the crowd but always returned — inevitably — to the same scene: Wonwoo, smiling while talking to a model who was too tall, too handsome, laughing at everything he said.

It was nothing. He knew that. Just work. But even so…

“You’re oddly quiet,” Wonwoo appeared beside him, and they walked to a private lounge, the champagne glass still half full. “Something happen?”

Mingyu forced a smile. “Not really. Just... tired.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “Tired?”

He hesitated. And when he didn’t answer, Wonwoo sighed, placing a hand on his arm.

“You know there’s no reason for you to feel like this, right?”

“I know,” Mingyu replied too quickly. “I just don’t like seeing you that... accessible.”

Wonwoo laughed, a little surprised. “Accessible?”

“You smile differently when you’re with me. But when I saw you there... it was almost the same smile.”

Wonwoo went quiet for a second. Then, he stepped closer, speaking softly, just for him: “What you saw was a performance. What you have is everything I am when the curtain falls.”

Mingyu swallowed hard, and the relief came slowly. But not without guilt.

“Sorry,” he said. “For not saying anything. For staying quiet thinking you’d just guess.”

Wonwoo gently squeezed his hand. “That’s why... rule number six.”

“Jealousy is resolved through talking?”

“Not with silence,” Wonwoo completed. “Unless the silence is followed by a kiss.”

Mingyu smiled, finally. “That’s a whole different rule.”

And there, in the quietest corner of the party, they kissed. Not as a public display, not as a secret — but as a silent reminder that their love was steady, even when the world tried to shake it.

★ Rule number seven: distance doesn’t erase what’s real.

The station was quiet that morning, despite the flow of people. The gray sky seemed to mirror the heaviness Mingyu felt in his chest as he adjusted the strap of Wonwoo’s backpack for the third time, as if that might slow time down.

“You packed two extra pairs of socks?” Mingyu asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Wonwoo replied with a small smile. “And the little notebook you gave me too.”

“With the notes hidden between the pages?”

“With the notes hidden between the pages.”

A silence settled between them, and Mingyu hated how it felt harder and harder to break. His eyes scanned Wonwoo’s face like he had to memorize it — because in some ways, he did.

“It’s just temporary,” Wonwoo said softly, as if reminding himself more than Mingyu.

“I know,” Mingyu replied, but didn’t loosen the grip he had on Wonwoo’s arm, holding on just tight enough to betray his fear.

“It won’t be easy,” Mingyu murmured. “Waking up without you there. Making coffee for one. Sleeping with the other side of the bed cold.”

“But it’ll pass,” Wonwoo said firmly. “And when it does, I’ll come back. Whole. So we can keep going where we left off.”

Mingyu nodded, blinking a few times too quickly. “Then let’s make a deal?”

“Another rule?” Wonwoo smiled, eyes brimming.

“Rule number seven,” Mingyu said, voice steady, though quiet. “Love is also waiting. Distance doesn’t erase what’s real.”

Wonwoo held his face with both hands. “And I’ll wait for you every day, even from there. Even without a phone, even without messages. Because loving you is what I do, even in silence.”

The train whistle echoed in the distance. Wonwoo rested his forehead against Mingyu’s and took a deep breath before stepping away, reluctantly.

Mingyu stood still until the very last second, until Wonwoo’s silhouette vanished into the platform crowd. And then, even alone, he whispered to himself:

“I’ll wait. Always.”

(Page marked with a star drawn in the corner.)

Mingyu was sitting at the dining table, the sky still dark outside, lit only by the warm yellow glow of the lamp. The black-covered notebook lay open in front of him, and on the freshly turned page, he held the pen with a care that was almost ceremonial.

He’d written several notes over the past few days, hiding them between the notebook’s pages, all without any particular order. Some funny, others silly, some just with a short sentence — but every single one had him in it. But now, with Wonwoo’s departure so close, he wanted this one to be special.

Note with no number, but with all the love in the world.

> If you're reading this, I hope you managed to find a moment just for yourself — even if brief. Maybe you're missing me. I am too.

Remember Rule number seven? Love is also about waiting. I didn’t write that just to sound poetic. I wrote it because it’s true.

You taught me that love isn’t measured by the good days, but by the ones where we have to be strong. And you are strong, Wonwoo. Stronger than anyone I know.

So while you're there, training, marching, doing whatever it is you have to do, remember: out here, there's someone counting the days, marking each one with a piece of you in their heart.

Come back to me with all your stories.

With love (and coffee waiting),
Gyu. <

Mingyu finished the note with handwriting a bit shaky, like his emotions had leaked into the pen. He folded the paper carefully, tucked it into an envelope marked with a small doodle of a little guy in a military uniform (drawn by him, a bit crooked), and stuck it on page 47.

Then he closed the notebook, took a deep breath, and smiled to himself.

Even though Wonwoo wasn’t there, it felt like a part of him had stayed with Mingyu too.

Rule number eight:
Love is also about relearning the other person when they come back.

The sun was just starting to set when Mingyu heard the doorknob turn.

He froze for a second in the kitchen, wooden spoon mid-air over the pot, like the world had suspended itself — caught between the steam of the rice and the soft sound of the door opening.

Then he appeared.

Wonwoo, with a backpack slung over one shoulder and his training uniform a bit rumpled, like he’d run straight from the base. His face was thinner, but his eyes had the same glow — the look of someone who was finally home.

“Hey,” he said, and that alone was enough.

Mingyu crossed the room in seconds, wrapping his boyfriend in a tight hug, one of those that carries all the silence of the nights without him.

“You’re really here,” Mingyu murmured, his face buried in Wonwoo’s neck. “Like… really here.”

“I am,” Wonwoo replied, arms wrapping around him with the same urgency. “And I don’t have to go back. Just community service now. City office, fixed hours, I’m home every day.”

Mingyu let out a sigh so deep it sounded like it had been trapped in his lungs for months. “So now… it’s official. You come back to me every night.”

Wonwoo smiled, tired but genuine. “Every day. At six in the evening.”

Mingyu chuckled softly. “I already set an alarm.”

They stayed there for a while, holding each other in the middle of the room, like they knew this reunion was just the beginning of a new phase — with new routines, different kinds of longing, but a stronger foundation than ever.

Later, as they sat on the couch sharing Mingyu’s slightly burnt dinner and laughing at the overly garlicky taste, Wonwoo pulled the notebook from his jacket.

“You still write in it?”

Mingyu nodded, a little shy. “A few more pages... even added some new rules.”

Wonwoo opened the notebook, and on the inside back cover was written in big letters:

Rule number eight:
Love is also about relearning the other person when they come back.

He read in silence, then looked at Mingyu.

“So, are we relearning everything again?”

Mingyu reached out under the table, lacing their fingers together. “Slowly. With time. With burnt rice. And with love.”

★ Rule number nine:
Even when you’re tired, come home wanting to stay.

The key turned in the door close to eleven at night. Mingyu walked in slowly, shoulders heavy from a full day of rehearsals, interviews, and a show that had only ended an hour ago. The living room lights were off, but a soft lamp lit the kitchen — and the quiet whistle of the kettle on the stove filled the silence.

Wonwoo was there. Sitting at the table, still in uniform, eyes barely open as he lazily stirred tea in a mug. His collar slightly undone, posture relaxed, almost vulnerable.

“You should be sleeping,” Mingyu said, dropping his keys and bag on the console. His voice came out rough, low, with a smile that held more than just longing.

“And you should be resting backstage instead of driving here to see me,” Wonwoo replied without opening his eyes, just stretching his hand out toward him.

Mingyu walked over and gently held his fingers, but didn’t stop there — he leaned down and placed a long kiss on the curve of Wonwoo’s neck, feeling the warm skin under his lips. “I missed the quiet here.”

Wonwoo opened one eye, chuckling softly, his fingers trailing up Mingyu’s neck, playing with his shirt collar. “Missed not having anyone shouting your name?”

“Missed someone whispering mine,” he replied, lips still on his skin. And this time, the kiss was slower, a wet touch just below the ear.

They stayed like that for a while. Mingyu standing, close to the chair, his hands resting on Wonwoo’s shoulders, and Wonwoo with his eyes closed, body melting under the touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.

“Some lady gave me rice cake today and said I look like your husband,” Wonwoo murmured, his voice dropping lower, thicker.

Mingyu smiled against his skin. “And what did you say?”

“I was tempted to tell her she was right.”

“You should’ve,” Mingyu whispered, his fingers sliding down the front of Wonwoo’s shirt, undoing another button. “But now come. Shower... or not. Just lie down with me like this. I just want you close.”

Wonwoo stood up, pulled by the waist, and they stood face to face for a moment, foreheads inches apart. He wrapped his arms around Mingyu’s neck and said, almost like a warning:

“If we lie down now, sleeping is the last thing we’ll be doing.”

Mingyu smiled, eyes gleaming like that was exactly what he’d hoped for.

“What do you think I came here for?”

The tea was left forgotten on the table, the stove turned off in a rush, and their clothes scattered along the path from kitchen to bedroom.

Because the two of them — they could never wait too long for each other.

★ Rule number ten:
Accept the overwhelming affection from someone who missed you — especially the one who never learned how to hide it.

Wonwoo had barely stepped into the rehearsal room when he was practically swallowed by a group hug.

“WONWOO-YAH!” came the chorus, loud and slightly out of sync, before he could even say "hi."

Soonyoung was the first to grab him around the waist, quickly followed by Seungkwan from behind, almost knocking him off balance. Within seconds, he was surrounded by arms, excited shouts, and Jun grinning as he took a selfie with Wonwoo caught in the chaos.

“For God’s sake, you’d think he came back from war,” Minghao said, laughing, even as he pulled Wonwoo into his own hug. “I mean, technically he did… but still.”

“You guys act like we don’t have a group chat,” Wonwoo mumbled, voice muffled against Soonyoung’s chest. “We literally talked yesterday.”

“Texts don’t have smell, or hugs, or that ugly tired face you make,” Seungkwan shot back dramatically. “I missed your ugly face, hyung.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“Yes. Ridiculously clingy,” Jun replied, stepping up and ruffling his hair with an affection that was almost possessive. “Deal with it.”

“By the way,” Minghao said, handing him a drink. “I got your favorite tea. It’s an official welcome.”

“Where are the balloons? And the red carpet?” Mingyu walked into the room with a mocking tone — but his eyes went straight to his boyfriend. And even with all the noise around them, in that moment, it felt like only the two of them existed.

Wonwoo looked up and met his gaze. They smiled at each other, but there was something in Mingyu’s eyes that no one else noticed: a glimmer of relief, like he could finally breathe properly again.

Without saying a word, Mingyu walked up to him and, in the middle of everyone’s exaggerated gestures, simply ran a hand gently along the back of Wonwoo’s neck — a small, intimate gesture that was only theirs.

“Hey,” he said softly, just for him.

“Hey,” Wonwoo replied in the same tone, goosebumps rising just from that familiar touch.

“Later, you’re mine,” Mingyu added, resting his forehead against his for half a second before stepping away with a faint smile.

And even though he was surrounded by loud, present, loving friends, Wonwoo knew: only one person there truly made him feel at home.

★ EXTRA RULE:
Listen. Even when the other says there’s nothing important to share. Sometimes, just sharing is enough.

The sound of the door opening was all it took for Mingyu to shuffle out of the kitchen, socks dragging on the floor. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt, messy hair, and had a dish towel slung over one shoulder.

“Welcome back,” he said, voice low, with a lazy smile.

Wonwoo stepped inside, kicking off his shoes and hanging his bag on the hook by the door. The city uniform still held the creases of a long day. He looked exhausted, but his face softened the moment he saw Mingyu there, with the smell of rice and garlic in the air.

“You cooked?”

“Almost. Made rice and threw an egg on top. I’m going for the ‘Boyfriend of the Year’ trophy.”

Wonwoo laughed, walking over and resting his face against Mingyu’s chest, arms hanging loosely at his sides. “You already won. Just for being here.”

They stayed like that in silence for a few seconds. The stove clicked off. The city breathed outside.

“How was your day?” Mingyu asked, his hand slowly running down Wonwoo’s back.

“The usual. My boss made me redo a report five times because the spacing was off,” he mumbled, voice muffled against Mingyu’s shirt. “A kid drew a pig on a service form. And an old man called me ‘the handsome guy at the front desk’ and gave me a lollipop.”

Mingyu let out a short laugh. “Look at you, becoming famous.”

“Famous for being the standard employee,” Wonwoo huffed, pulling back just enough to take off the uniform and throw on one of Mingyu’s old t-shirts — like he always did. “But… it’s peaceful. Kind of monotonous. But I like having a schedule. Knowing I’ll come home.”

Mingyu stepped closer, tugging him gently by the waistband of his sweatpants, that soft grin on his lips. “And I like knowing I’ll be here when you do.”

“You’ve turned into a house pet,” Wonwoo teased, though his fingers gripped the hem of Mingyu’s shirt tightly.

“Only yours,” he murmured, pressing a lazy, slow kiss to Wonwoo’s chin.

They ate dinner together after that, legs tangled beneath the table. Wonwoo shared more stories from his day, and Mingyu listened to every word — even the ones that started with, “this isn’t even funny, forget it.”

Because the rule was clear.

Even if it wasn’t much... listening was love.

After dinner, they washed the dishes slowly, wordlessly dividing the chores like they’d done it a hundred times before. The apartment was quiet, lit only by the warm light above the kitchen counter and the soft instrumental playlist Mingyu always played at night.

When they were done, Wonwoo leaned against the sink, fingers still damp, watching Mingyu dry a plate with distracted movements.

“You look good tonight,” he said casually, but with eyes that didn’t waver.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “I’m wearing yesterday’s shirt and my hair looks like I slept on a rock.”

“Still.”

There were no more words after that. Mingyu dropped the towel, crossed the space between them, and leaned into Wonwoo’s body slowly, with the intimacy of someone who knew exactly where to touch. His fingers slid around his waist, finding warm skin under the borrowed shirt.

“I missed this,” Mingyu murmured, his mouth brushing the curve of Wonwoo’s neck. “You here. At home. With me.”

Wonwoo took a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. “Me too. Even when I’m tired, my body keeps waiting for you.”

Mingyu smiled against his skin, then took his hand and led him to the bedroom, no rush, no urgency.

The lights were off, just the faint glow of the street filtering through the curtains. Mingyu sat on the bed first, pulling Wonwoo into his lap like that spot had always belonged to him.

The kisses started slow, like a reunion. A silent dance of lips and soft touches, hands exploring familiar paths with a buildup of longing. Their breathing grew heavier, bodies closer, like they were trying to melt into each other.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” Wonwoo whispered between kisses, his fingers threading through Mingyu’s hair.

“I know,” Mingyu replied, voice low and rough. “But I want to remind you… that I’m yours.”

And that night, there was no hurry, no tiredness that could get in the way.

Just two bodies finding the same rhythm again, the same secret language.

Through whispers, long kisses, and touches that spoke more than any rule.

There, in the intimacy of that room, no words were needed.

Just the certainty that they were back.

Together.