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Everyone knows how Mingi feels about Hongjoong—it’s obvious, and only natural. Hongjoong isn’t just the leader, he’s also Mingi’s direct superior, being as he is the main rapper, so it makes perfect sense that Mingi stares at Hongjoong like he’s a god and Mingi is his lovesick devotee. Idol worship is simply to be expected when you’re an actual idol. So that part is obvious, but Hongjoong likes to think he keeps his own soft spot for Mingi fairly well-hidden. Or maybe not. Probably not. Whatever. Who cares if Mingi’s his favorite? He just so happens to be everything Hongjoong likes: tall, gullible, loud, silly, ambitious, tall, playful, bratty, clumsy, tall, sweet, eager, tall, naive, and very tall. As long as he doesn’t give him preferential treatment, it’s fine. And he doesn’t. So it’s fine.
They’re about to start filming an absolutely inane, supposed-to-be hilarious reality show, their very first. It’ll require a lot of running around and screaming and playing various exhausting games, but Hongjoong never has to fake the fun he’s having: it’s always fun, with the other boys. They leave at 9 AM. He’s dressed and doing their final check-ups, does everyone have appropriate footwear, is Wooyoung out of the shower, did Yeosang put sunscreen on his nose, is there water in the van, but just as he’s about to start rallying the troops to go, he feels a hesitant hand curling around his arm and looks back to find Mingi, a little pale and sickly-looking. “Mingi.” Hongjoong frowns, reaching up to touch Mingi’s forehead. “Are you okay?”
“I need to talk to you about something, can we—is there time?” Mingi asks, fidgeting.
Oh no. Obviously Hongjoong always has time for his members, especially Mingi, but the first day of shooting a show is definitely not the best time. He checks the clock on the wall: they leave in 10 minutes. Fuck. “Yes, okay, come here,” he says and pulls Mingi into his and Seonghwa’s room, since Seonghwa is off somewhere doing his hair. Out of politeness, he even closes the door behind them, and Mingi goes from pale to pink. “What is it?”
“I just,” Mingi starts, then blushes harder and stops. He’s not even happy-blushing, which is a sight Hongjoong knows well: actually, he seems upset. “I just. I’m a little nervous, about the show.”
“Why? We’re just going to be driving around and playing games, it’s not that big of a deal.” Hongjoong shrugs, hoping he comes off as reassuring rather than condescending. He crosses his arms, too, to covertly show his impatience, because even though this is Mingi, they do still have places to go.
But his pose must make Mingi even more nervous, because he’s blushing harder than ever and mumbling so much he’s barely comprehensible: “I know, but—I know we did the episodes in LA but this is longer, and we already debuted, and I’m just nervous. I don’t want to make the group look bad by being—um—too much?”
“Oh,” Hongjoong says, and now of course he feels very mean for being impatient. He uncrosses his arms and his face softens. “What do you mean, Mingi? Too much of what?”
“Too much of—me,” Mingi says, shrugging uncomfortably. “I dunno. I just, that’s what I’m worried about. So could, could you keep an eye on me, please, hyung, and tell me if I need to chill out? Just so I don’t embarrass anyone.”
Hongjoong frowns. This is by far the most heartbreaking, adorable thing Hongjoong has ever seen, and he wants to actually murder anyone who has ever made Mingi feel bad about himself for being himself before. “Just be yourself, Mingi,” he says, reaching all, all the way up to ruffle Mingi’s hair, and Mingi’s blush goes from sad to happy in seconds—he’s red and pleased, ducking his head to ease Hongjoong’s stretch. “And everyone will love you just like we all do.”
Mingi makes a small noise, looking up at Hongjoong through his short, expressive eyelashes. “Thank you, hyung,” he says. “Don’t—don’t tell anyone—”
“I wouldn’t,” Hongjoong scolds, and since he’s already reaching up there, he smacks the back of Mingi’s head. “Stupid. I never snitch on anyone. Now come on, we’re going to be late, will you go find Seonghwa for me?”
“Okay, hyung!” Mingi chirps, and it’s as though the conversation never happened, easy-going big lug that he is. Miraculously, Hongjoong corrals everyone to be ready to leave on time, and they’re off to the races.
Mingi is clearly much more relaxed following Hongjoong’s advice, but Hongjoong still keeps an eye on him throughout the morning. And not just because he likes looking at him (and who could blame him? There’s just so much boy to look at, his long legs, his gangly arms, his beautiful neck, his starry, pleading eyes, the way his lips are always pouting no matter what he’s doing), but just to make sure he’s alright. He’s also keeping an eye on Yeosang, who has the beginnings of a cold, and Yunho, who complained of some stiffness in his shoulders earlier. He’s just keeping an eye on them all in general and trying hard not to play favorites. Wooyoung is testing his patience, as always. Seonghwa is helping wrangle everyone, also as always. And through it all, Mingi is being himself, which means he’s being a little bit irresistible.
Mingi is naturally clingy, but since he’d specifically asked Hongjoong to look out for him, Hongjoong sticks closer to his side than he normally would. And Mingi loves it, obviously, looking so nakedly delighted when Hongjoong chooses to stand by his side or sit next to him at breakfast. Hongjoong doesn’t mind it, either. Kind of likes it, actually. Even when they’re just back at the dorm or practicing, he likes the way Mingi reacts to his proximity—how he goes pink, how he curls in on himself, the noises he sometimes makes when Hongjoong pokes him sharply in the ribs. It’s harmless and cute. So what if Mingi has a crush? Hongjoong knows about it—Mingi doesn’t need to confess—and he’s not going to do anything about it, but there’s nothing wrong with making the kid comfortable. He needs his leader’s support, so that’s what Hongjoong will give him. Not even too much more than he usually does, anyway, because again—soft spot.
At lunch, which they hard-earn through a series of relay races, Mingi blinks sleepily and hungrily at Hongjoong’s tteokbokki, so Hongjoong feeds him about half of it even though Mingi, according to the results of the races, is only allowed to have instant ramen. Nobody chastises them or really notices, and the way Mingi smiles at him afterwards, brighter than the blazing sun, makes it worth it. They sit next to each other on the bus to the next location and Hongjoong absently tugs at the loose strings on Mingi’s ripped jeans. Obviously they see each other every day, but Hongjoong has kind of missed Mingi—back in the day, they were kind of isolated from everyone else so they could work on their raps together, and this feels like kind of a return to that. He’s grateful to Mingi for speaking up, for asking Hongjoong to stay close, because now they get to do this, and the next time Mingi glances at Hongjoong to check his opinion on something, Hongjoong smiles, just because.
Is it bad that Hongjoong sometimes treats Mingi like more of a stress ball than a friend? They’re playing some very complicated game that Hongjoong is barely paying attention to, and he doesn’t even notice, but he’s sitting way too close to Mingi, borrowing his hands to shake them around for emphasis when he needs to make a point, grabbing his bicep when he laughs, thumping his shoulder hard when they win a round of the game and are screaming in celebration. Mingi likes to put his arms around people—he’s large and still growing, sometimes the rooms they’re in are small, he doesn’t mean anything by it—but everyone knows Hongjoong gets a little tetchy about being caged in, but. He’ll let Mingi do it, and he lets Mingi do it now, even cuddles into his side because he’s warm and the air in here is cold.
Even Hongjoong doesn’t understand his own rules for what’s acceptable to do and what isn’t, both on-camera and off. Somehow, this is okay, it’s still fun. Mingi is very into skinship, always hugging and snuggling everyone. It makes him feel cared for, and since Hongjoong knows he’s feeling self-conscious these days, he allows it. He wants to show Mingi that of course he’s cared for, and he smiles, leaning his head back on Mingi’s shoulder and casting an easy arm over Mingi’s thighs.
It’s hard to keep his curious hands to himself sometimes, but if even Wooyoung and San can do it (granted, only after a few yelling sessions from their leader), then Hongjoong, ostensibly meant to be setting a good example for the rest of them, certainly can, too. There are cameras. He might want to put his face in Mingi’s neck and climb and clamber all over him, using his chest and shoulders as handholds, just for fun, just to see what Mingi would do, just to explore him, but that would be wildly inappropriate under any circumstances, let alone when there are cameras. He’s starting to cross his own line. So, using the game as a pretext, he shakes Mingi’s arm off him and moves over to sit by Seonghwa instead, who is, in Hongjoong’s opinion, no more than a neutral extension of Hongjoong’s own self and therefore by default sexless and repulsive. A very good antidote to everything. Seonghwa doesn’t bat an eye, but Hongjoong can feel Mingi looking longingly at him. As usual.
Still, it’s not that out of character, not that far out of the bounds of acceptability. Within an hour, Hongjoong is comfortable enough to rejoin Mingi on that side of the room, and Wooyoung makes a joke that has Mingi cackling and falling over with his laughter, tumbling into Hongjoong’s lap. Hongjoong makes no effort to move him, his own narrow shoulders wracked with giggles. He leans over Mingi, and they’re both laughing, and Hongjoong twines a finger in Mingi’s hair and pulls, just a little. Mingi stops laughing, but he’s still breathless, expectant, on-camera, and Hongjoong pets his hand over the side of Mingi’s head and pushes him up, out of his lap again. Mingi tries to lean on him, but Hongjoong scoots away, out of reach, and doesn’t look back. Be careful, he reminds himself. Don’t get in over your head.
But he doesn’t stay away for long, and without even realizing it, they practically spend the whole day together, always walking side by side for group shots and teaming up for games, and when Mingi is the star of an outfit challenge that leaves him wearing jeans so tight Hongjoong can’t even imagine how he fit into them and an oversized blazer with nothing underneath, Hongjoong and Wooyoung are both at the front of the cat-calling charge. Hongjoong pulls at the collar of the blazer to expose a few more inches of Mingi’s chest as Wooyoung wolf-whistles, and Mingi is so red, so happy, so seemingly comfortable and at ease with himself, glancing to Hongjoong for approval whenever he does anything and glowing when Hongjoong rewards him with a nod or smile. Mingi tries to hide from the cameras behind Hongjoong’s narrow shoulders, and although it’s a bit like hiding a tree behind an acorn, Hongjoong still does his best to shelter him. Then Mingi gets cold, and although Hongjoong can’t give him his own coat—it’s about six sizes too small—he does tell the production staff that Mingi needs to change, and Mingi scampers off with a grateful smile sent Hongjoong’s way. When he comes back, all bundled up, it’s to sit next to Hongjoong and laugh too loudly at the things Hongjoong says. Hongjoong winces—Mingi is really very loud—but doesn’t tell him to stop. He’s happy Mingi’s happy.
They’re sitting together in the back of the bus as they get shuffled off to some other mystery location, and in the middle of an impromptu sing-along, Hongjoong grabs Mingi’s hand and laughs at the way he immediately blushes. Encouraged, Hongjoong lets go of his big fingers and pinches his cheeks instead. “Hyung—” Mingi says, trying to squirm away, but Hongjoong turns in his seat so his knee is pushing into Mingi’s thick thigh, and Wooyoung is on the other side and won’t give Mingi any room. Mingi is trapped and laughing, going pink all over, and he could shove Hongjoong away so easily but he won’t even though it hurts, because Hongjoong is his hyung and because he likes it, he must like it so much, the attention, the—the touching.
Hongjoong finds himself liking it, too. He wants to go further, he wants to—he doesn’t even know what, mess up Mingi’s hair, stick his fingers in Mingi’s mouth, anything. But he has to force himself to stop, even though Mingi’s already leaning in for more. There are cameras, everyone’s around them, this is exactly what he should be trying to avoid. Reluctantly, he lets go of Mingi’s face and turns to look forward instead, yelling along to Zico on his own, but he’s still sitting close enough that their legs are pressed together, and by the time they’ve arrived at their next location, their ankles are crossed together again, right as rain.
More games, more challenges, more time by Mingi’s side, and they arrive to the guest house in the heart of Seoul where they’ll be spending the night. Before they can get settled in, of course there has to be a montage of them exploring the space and bickering extensively about who sleeps where. Mingi trails after Hongjoong like a lost duckling. They all have dinner on-camera, and Hongjoong blows on a particularly hot piece of meat to cool it down before feeding it to Mingi. In exchange, Mingi shyly folds up a perfect ssam for him, which he doesn’t say is for him but just leaves uneaten on his own plate for Hongjoong to steal. Hongjoong steals it. It’s almost crazy how much they can both get away with; evidently, no one else pays attention to literally anything. Granted, that doesn’t give Hongjoong a free pass to act on all his impulses, but as long as Mingi had a good day and is feeling confident going into the second day of filming, then that’s all he really needs.
One last group shot for the show, and then, before Hongjoong knows it, the staff are telling them when they have to get up tomorrow, and the cameras are going away. There is an audible exhale from all the boys, but they still look to Hongjoong for guidance anyway: he shrugs and says, “Clean up, then let’s sleep.” Obviously Wooyoung sticks his tongue down San’s throat the second they get the all-clear, but everybody simply moves around them, clearing off the table and retrieving their overnight bags from the stack by the front door. They’re all exhausted from the events of the day, and tomorrow will doubtless be just as long, if not longer, so there’s not much after-hours tomfoolery. Hongjoong helps Jongho get his bed set up, borrows one of Seonghwa’s hair clips, brushes his teeth on such complete automaton that he accidentally drips toothpaste over the hem of his shirt. Everyone else is quieting down, even the noisy ones, and Hongjoong trusts that nothing will explode if he just goes and gets in bed and leaves them to their own devices.
He’d chosen the corner of the room to sleep in so he can keep an eye on them all if need be, but everything seems fine. Quiet. About half the group seems to have gone off to the kitchen for snacks, so it’s just him, Yunho, and Jongho in the room for now. He gets out his phone and checks the message he’d gotten from their manager with the approximate layout of activities they’ll be doing tomorrow, and he hears without looking up that Mingi, pajama-clad and bare-faced, has come into the room and is chatting with Yunho. Hongjoong lifts his eyes from his phone screen to glance over at him, and of course Mingi’s looking, and Hongjoong reflexively smiles because he can’t help it, Mingi just makes him smile, and of course Mingi, inspired, starts padding over to Hongjoong’s bed.
“Are you looking at our schedule for tomorrow, hyung?” Mingi asks, tilting his head.
“Uh huh,” Hongjoong answers, looking back down at his phone.
Mingi, for some reason, takes this as an invitation to flop down behind Hongjoong and drape his arms and legs over him. “Can I see?”
Hongjoong can’t say no to Mingi, ever. Everyone assumes that Mingi’s the one who’s whipped, but has Hongjoong ever denied him anything? Besides, he had fun with Mingi today, he doesn’t mind, and it doesn’t matter that he’d never let any of the other members do this with him. He shifts forward on the bed slightly to make sure Mingi has enough room and he wordlessly turns his phone screen so Mingi can see, too.
Mingi tucks his chin over Hongjoong’s shoulder, and his arm tightens around Hongjoong’s waist. “Cool,” he hums. His voice is even deeper like this, not that Hongjoong is surprised by it anymore. “Was I okay today?”
“Mingi, there’s nothing wrong with you,” Hongjoong replies, frowning slightly. “You were perfect, you’re always perfect.”
“Okay,” Mingi says happily, snuggling in even closer to Hongjoong. “You were, too.”
“Shut up,” Hongjoong says, rolling his eyes. He stretches out one leg so his ankle can wedge between Mingi’s calves. Mingi is so warm and so long—he envelops Hongjoong so well. Hongjoong is getting even sleepier, now. “Move your other arm, put it—yeah, like that.” Using Mingi’s non-spooning arm as a headrest, Hongjoong is even more comfortable, and he gets back to checking out the schedule, then catching up on his other messages, not really minding that Mingi is obviously snooping. It’s warm and comfortable. It’s really nice, actually, after that long, crazy day, and Hongjoong is also glad he could put Mingi a little more at ease.
But then Mingi sighs quietly and turns his head so he’s nuzzling into Hongjoong’s neck, breathing him in. Hongjoong feels his eyes when he slow-blinks. They brush against his skin. He nearly melts—nearly drops his phone and turns over to nestle into Mingi’s long swanlike neck in return. Nearly. He knows how well they’d fit together; he’s not proud of the fact that he’s imagined it. But then Hongjoong abruptly realizes that they’re acting like—like—well, like Wooyoung and San, for one thing, whom Hongjoong has to beg not to fuck around in communal spaces, and now he’s doing practically the exact thing he always gets on their case for doing. Nobody’s looking, barely anyone is even in here—and nobody even cares about Wooyoung and San—but still, Hongjoong rapidly flushes with embarrassment and discomfort, feeling like everybody’s staring at them, and he starts pushing Mingi off of him. This is it, the line, and he sees himself crossing it. “It’s late,” he says, and it comes out sounding way more stern than he intended. “Go get in your own bed, come on. Go.”
Mingi’s eyes are wide and startled, and his previously happy, drowsy face crumples. He scrambles back, away from Hongjoong, and sits up with his shoulders heavy, looking like such a kicked puppy left out in the rain that Hongjoong almost reconsiders, almost grabs him and drags him back down and straddles him to keep him in place. Fuck, no, that thought is definitely inappropriate, and Hongjoong doesn’t relent or soften at all, not even when Mingi blinks heavily and starts to actually go away.
Hongjoong feels bad, of course he does, especially as he watches Mingi slink across the room and drop himself onto his own mattress, then curl up, facing away from Hongjoong’s corner. Yes, Hongjoong clearly went too far. There’s a difference between playing favorites, making Mingi comfortable, playing around, and between what he’d been doing, which… doesn’t even have a name, not really. It’s bad to tease someone if you’re not going to do anything about it. It’s even worse when he trusts you, looks up to you, idolizes you. Just because Hongjoong likes touching him doesn’t mean he should. He realizes, as he thinks about this, that he was doing it because he thought he could get away with it—that Mingi would let him get away with it. He feels a little sickened and resolves to stop entirely. Yes, Mingi is adorable and he activates Hongjoong’s cute aggression like nothing else in the world, but he’s also a person. A fragile, brilliant, hard-working person with feelings that get hurt. Hongjoong can keep an eye on him without putting his hands on him. It’s decided: from now on, he treats Mingi like everyone else.
San, coming into the room with Wooyoung holding onto his hand, turns off the light, and Hongjoong keeps his eyes on Mingi’s small, sad form. But surely Hongjoong is imagining Mingi’s sadness—Mingi’s fine. He has to be. He, just like everyone, knows how Hongjoong feels about being manhandled, so he’s probably not thinking anything of it at all. The other boys come into the room shortly afterward, anyway, so Hongjoong stops having time to worry about this non-issue, just does his final headcount and bids everyone a good night. As he falls asleep to the sound of seven boys breathing, he tries not to try and pick out the sound of Mingi’s breath in particular.
He doesn’t dream, but in the morning, he’s even more resolved that his behavior changes today. Maybe if they were just chilling at the dorm alone together, he wouldn’t fuss too much over the way he plays with Mingi’s hair, bumps their knees when they’re sitting next to each other, lets Mingi lean boldly into his personal space without leaning away, but—there are so many cameras. And he can tell that Mingi likes it a little bit too much, which is dangerous. And people will notice, eventually, and Hongjoong is supposed to be setting a good example, supposed to be leading, supposed to be supporting and encouraging everyone, not just babying Mingi all day long.
So he tries to keep some measure of distance between himself and Mingi for the rest of the day, just to see how it’ll feel. In the next game, they have to split into teams: after rock-paper-scissors, Hongjoong and Yunho get to choose their own teammates. Mingi, poor thing, is torn between his best friend and his leader, and although he’s sidling up to Yunho and sweet-talking him in his own clumsy way, he keeps glancing frantically and pleadingly at Hongjoong. Choose me, choose me, choose me. Hongjoong chooses Jongho instead, and Mingi goes with Yunho. The game moves on. For all the world, Mingi was never distressed in the first place, and although Hongjoong checks throughout the game, Mingi seems totally fine, very happy to be on Yunho’s team. Well, good, Hongjoong thinks. Stay that way.
If Mingi notices a change, he doesn’t let on. That’s the thing about this lifestyle; there’s never time to dwell on anything, and this day is even more chock-full of activities than the first. Even if Hongjoong had wanted to pay Mingi special attention, he wouldn’t have had the time. They’re being bussed all over the city, playing so many games, doing so many tasks. Hongjoong had thought, maybe, that treating Mingi like everyone else would be difficult, and it kind of is for the first hour: he does have to stop himself from grabbing Mingi’s exceedingly grabbable arm a lot, to say nothing of the way he knows he just stares proudly at Mingi whenever he’s talking. But after that, it’s shockingly easy if he pretends Mingi isn’t Mingi. Well, obviously he’s still Mingi, but all it takes is for Hongjoong to make his brain paint over him with a bland, fond shade that just means member, and he’s no longer as drawn to Mingi’s side, doesn’t find himself laughing at his goofy jokes or feeding him extra bites of his lunch. Also doesn’t touch him, poke him, tease him. For Hongjoong, it’s almost a relief; he feels like a much better leader already. He wonders if Mingi feels the same way, but tries not to give that too much thought—after all, does he ever overthink the other members’ emotions, or is it just all bare minimum stuff, has anyone been set on fire, does everyone have all their limbs? Mingi’s not on fire, and his limbs are all attached. He’s acting normal. Things are great, and the reality show will be a hit.
There is a minor hiccup over dinner. Hongjoong sits himself as far away from Mingi as possible—on opposite ends of the row—but he hadn’t thought that through at all, because while they’re nowhere near touching range, he and Mingi are now directly in each other’s eyeline all the time, and Hongjoong tries not to look at him, but even out of his peripherals, he can see that Mingi’s gazing. Hongjoong doesn’t gaze back. Mingi did great today, anyway, he had nothing to worry about in the first place, and Hongjoong just got himself all fucked up for nothing. He tries not to resent Mingi for it—it’s not Mingi’s fault in the slightest, but it’s all Hongjoong’s for getting carried away. And seriously, Mingi’s fine, giggling with Wooyoung, swaying with Yunho, sharing a cup of water with San. Hongjoong is relieved that everything’s okay, and that he was able to make the right decision and back off. He really had been playing favorites, which was wrong, but now he’ll be able to be an even better leader. It’s for the best.
When the cameras turn off, it’s nearly identical to last night. Wooyoung and San start making out and cooing at each other about how impossible it is not to just “kiss you all day long, my baby, you owe me seven million kisses for today,” the other members clear the table, Hongjoong chats with the managers a little bit. As Hongjoong heads out of the room, he nearly “accidentally” kicks Wooyoung in the ribs, but stops himself at the last second—if he’s really treating everyone equally, shouldn’t that mean he treats them as well as he treats Mingi? He doesn’t necessarily have to be harsher to Mingi, just kinder to everyone else. He thinks he can do that, especially if being a better leader is the goal, so when San, sensing Hongjoong passing by with his skincare bag, detaches from Wooyoung with a revolting suction noise and looks guiltily up at him, Hongjoong doesn’t even do anything other than smile and head through to claim his spot in the line for the washroom.
One more night in the guest house, and then they’ll be back in their dorm. In general, Hongjoong is feeling pretty great about how equitably he’s been treating everyone. He even companionably ruffled Yunho’s hair after a game, leaned an elbow on San’s shoulder, clapped extra hard for Jongho when he was doing vocal warm-ups to impress pedestrians, and kept a respectful distance from Mingi all day long. Is there going to be a repeat of yesterday’s evening bedtime shenanigans? Hongjoong is wary, but Mingi hasn’t interacted with him too much today, either, come to think of it. He hadn’t even acted out for attention like he likes to do sometimes, and he doesn’t try to crawl into Hongjoong’s bed. Hongjoong watches him from his vantage point but sees nothing alarming—he’s just whispering with Yunho, whom he’s been sticking close to in Hongjoong’s absence. That’s good, friendship is good. As long as they’re not sticking too close, haha. Some mean-spirited part of Hongjoong mutters from the back of his brain that the last thing the band needs is another WooSan, and an even more disgusting part joins in to add that if anyone’s going to be WooSan’ing with Mingi, it should be Hongjoong, but Hongjoong shoves his face into his pillow and shuts his brain off completely.
In the morning, just a couple more missions later, the show is over before they know it, and they run around the guest house packing up all their things to prepare for their return to the dorm. Hongjoong is doing head-counts every thirty seconds: he does not want to end up with another Home Alone: Wooyoung Edition incident on their hands. Normally everyone would be stressed after the end of something like this, irritable and tired, but they have the whole day off after this, so the energy is actually excited as they all pile into the bus. Wooyoung and San immediately start to nap together, Jongho is playing a game on his phone, Yeosang is listening to music, Yunho and Seonghwa are arguing about movies, and Mingi is just sitting quietly and looking out of the window as they drive through the city. Hongjoong watches him for a moment, then closes his eyes for a nap of his own. He’s glad he was able to ease up on his treatment of Mingi as compared to everyone else; he thinks he’ll keep it up, even now that they’re done being filmed all day long, since it’s a change for the overall best. Yes, a much better leader. When they return to the dorm, everyone eyes him kind of nervously, as though expecting him to yell at them to go straight to the practice rooms, but he does nothing of the sort, just tells them to go do whatever they want to do.
They scatter quickly, maybe worried Hongjoong will change his mind. He just watches them, amused, as Seonghwa heads for the living room, Yeosang to his room, Wooyoung and San immediately right back out the door to get iced coffee. As for Hongjoong, he thinks he might head to the studio, actually, get some guides laid down in preparation for their next comeback, whenever it is. Maybe normally he’d have stuck around and played a couple rounds of a video game with Mingi, but would he do that with anyone else? No, of course not, so he doesn’t even hang back to ask Mingi what he’s going to do with his free time, just puts on a warmer jacket and a hat and off he trudges to the studio.
He doesn’t come back for hours, not until he’s checked the band groupchat and seen that in his absence, they ordered chicken, and there won’t be any left soon. He makes it back just in time to snag the very last piece, and chases it with a half-empty bottle of sikhye he finds in the fridge. The dorm is typical levels of noisy—someone’s watching a movie, someone else is showering, Seonghwa is washing dishes, and Hongjoong leans against the kitchen counter as he sips.
Then a hesitant, raspy voice says, “Hyung.” Mingi. Hongjoong turns to see him, and it’s an uncanny reenactment of two days ago, Mingi pulling Hongjoong aside before the start of the reality show to ask for supervision, to ask for comfort. If anything, Mingi looks even more sickly and nervous than that time, his always-chapped lips redder and more bitten than usual, and Hongjoong gives him his full attention, falling so easily back into his old patterns of babying the baby despite his best efforts to do otherwise. “Hyung, I—can I talk to you? In private?”
They’re hardly in public now—it’s still only Seonghwa in the kitchen, minding his own business for once—but Hongjoong won’t deny him when he looks this anxious. Hongjoong nods. “Okay, of course,” he says, and lets Mingi lead the shuffling way back to his and Jongho’s room.
Jongho is at the gym for the night, so they really are in private. Hongjoong closes the door and looks at Mingi with his eyebrows raised, unsure of just how worried he should be. Mingi opens his mouth and closes it, and his hands wring together. He’s a wreck, and Hongjoong can tell that yes, he should definitely be worried, but just as soon as he takes a step forward to start gentling Mingi down from whatever’s spooked him, Mingi begins to speak: “Have I—what did I—did I do something wrong, hyung?”
He sounds croaky and congested, very nearly like he’s been crying. Hongjoong has never been more confused. “Wrong?” he repeats, cocking his head to the side. “No, of course not. What are you talking about?”
Mingi flinches at Hongjoong’s tone. “I’m just wondering,” he mumbles. He can’t hold eye contact. Tall, broad boy, he’s acting like he’s smaller than Hongjoong. “Because I—I don’t know. It’s so dumb, hyung. I know I did something, I just wish you’d tell me what so I can never do it again.”
“Mingi, I literally have no idea what you mean,” Hongjoong says, trying to sound softer. Again, he takes a step forward, but Mingi practically cowers, so Hongjoong stays where he is, straining at invisible bonds of propriety.
It takes a little bit more mumbling and red-cheeked misery, but Mingi starts to talk again. “I just noticed—that you haven’t been—I mean, not that I expect anything… But you won’t even look at me, and we used to—I think we were really close, like, like friends, but now you don’t ever talk to me or t-touch me, so I’m just wondering what I did wrong that’s making you not want to be around me.”
Hongjoong’s jaw drops. “What?”
“Because I know I did something,” Mingi continues urgently, and now he looks at Hongjoong, his eyes heavy-lidded, his thick lower lip wobbling. “And I’m really, really sorry, whatever it was. I’ll never do it again. Like, if I made you uncomfortable—when I, I don’t know, I don’t know what I did, but if it made you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry, hyung, I really am—I’ll stop making everything so obvious, and I know you don’t see me that way anyway, so it makes sense that you don’t want to see me at all, it’s fine, I get it, but I’m still—”
Hongjoong is kind of listening, but also having a crisis that renders him deaf and mute. What the fuck is Mingi talking about? He thinks he did something wrong that made Hongjoong not want to be around him? But Hongjoong wants nothing more than to be around him! It has been very hard to stay away from him for the last two days! Poor Mingi is still rambling, fast and low, assuming he’s committed every crime under the sun, and the pieces start falling into place with rapid, startling clarity. Hongjoong knows Mingi is very sensitive, very much an overthinker; it comes out in his tender, eloquent lyrics all the time, conveying the things he clearly wants to say but isn’t bold enough to voice in daily life. Of course he noticed the change in Hongjoong’s behavior: of course he would be confused and upset by it! Hongjoong went from practically holding his hand all day long to treating him like he’s nothing special, not Hongjoong’s favorite, just some kid Hongjoong happens to be in a group with. Fuck. All Hongjoong had wanted was to help them both, and now it has backfired spectacularly. God, that’s right, Mingi’s been feeling bad about himself anyway, and Hongjoong has been too busy getting in his own head to pay attention. Bad leader, bad.
Mingi has been talking, stammering, this whole time, getting increasingly confusing. He keeps apologizing, but at least it doesn’t seem like he’s about to cry anymore: he’s found new strength, and he’s acting like a defendant up on the stand in front of a harsh jury. Hongjoong tunes back in to hear him say, “I can’t help it, hyung, I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help the way I feel, but I’ll try, okay? I’ll really, really try, even though I—I mean, I know you know how much I—anyway. I won’t let it affect the group anymore, and I’ll try to stop, I really will. But will you just tell me that that’s what it was? Just so I don’t keep, um, I don’t know, waiting? I can take it, I promise, just tell me.”
And he looks at Hongjoong with big, earnest eyes, begging for an answer. Hongjoong is speechless. What the fuck is he meant to say to this? Obviously he’s the one who should be apologizing—he needs to explain that Mingi’s got it all wrong, that Hongjoong was only trying to help, that these two days of avoiding him have been hard for Hongjoong, too, clearly harder than Mingi knows. That Mingi’s even wrong about how Hongjoong sees him, but that’s even more difficult to put into words. That he never, ever wanted to hurt Mingi, that Mingi has never done anything wrong in his life, that he could never push Hongjoong away, because Hongjoong won’t let him. That everything Mingi wants, Hongjoong thinks he just might want, too, so much that it nearly scares him.
But Hongjoong was silent for too long. Mingi, as expected, misinterprets it, and that bravado he’d managed to build up starts to deflate. “Um,” he says, his shoulders slumping, “I mean, just forget it. I’m sorry, hyung, I’m really sor—”
He doesn’t get to finish his thousandth apology, because Hongjoong, who has always been a big believer in actions speaking louder than words, has pushed up onto his tiptoes as high as he can go to kiss Mingi full on the mouth. To his credit, Mingi reacts nearly immediately, making a raw noise from the back of his throat and kissing him back so clumsy, so needy, so sincere that it makes Hongjoong’s heart ache. Hongjoong tries to tell him everything with his kiss, soothe him, and he ends up kissing him again and again and again, his hands coming up to hold onto the back of Mingi’s head to hold him exactly where Hongjoong wants him. He feels Mingi’s big paws gripping onto his waist and clutching him tight, and still Hongjoong is kissing him, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stop now that he’s started; it’s like an unsatisfiable ache has opened up in the pit of his stomach, and he feels horrible, just so terrible for the way he’s been inadvertently hurting Mingi, and the feeling of Mingi’s puffy lips under his own is the only antidote.
Mingi is not a good kisser, but Hongjoong adores that. Mingi goes still like a rabbit in a trap when Hongjoong licks his mouth open, and the feeling of his tongue—even though he’s not doing anything with it—drives Hongjoong even more insane. Mingi is holding onto Hongjoong as desperately as Hongjoong is holding onto him, his arms sliding around Hongjoong’s waist to keep Hongjoong elevated. Hongjoong, in his turn, winds his fingers in Mingi’s hair and kisses him, and kisses him, panting in the split seconds their lips are parted. How long has he wanted to do this? Fuck, he doesn’t even know, but now he wants it like he’s never wanted anything before—more than becoming an idol, more than living a good life. He just hopes he’s not scaring Mingi with the way he’s kissing him, because he knows he can be a little toothsome and alarming, so he makes himself stop even though Mingi whines sadly, swaying on his tiptoes and pressing his forehead against Mingi’s as they both gasp for air.
“Does that answer your question?” Hongjoong says hoarsely.
Mingi, when Hongjoong opens his eyes to see him, is red-cheeked and dazzled. “No,” Mingi whispers. “I just have more questions now.”
“Let me see if this does the trick,” Hongjoong says and throws his arms around his neck and kisses him so soundly that they both stumble, but Mingi finds his dancer’s grace and doesn’t let them fall.
Mingi learns fast, Hongjoong finds, just like when he and Hongjoong first started writing lyrics together. He mirrors what Hongjoong is doing, and soon their tongues are sliding together more naturally and he can keep up with Hongjoong’s greedy pace. His hands are very, very warm on Hongjoong’s sides. Hongjoong squeezes him, doesn’t care if Mingi can’t breathe, he literally wants to climb him like a tree, and since Mingi is letting him do this—since Mingi wants it, too, since Mingi is starting to understand—he breaks away from him just long enough to pull and push until Mingi is falling onto his rickety bunk bed and staring up at him all rumpled and well-kissed.
Hongjoong doesn’t even think about how this must look, how it must seem, until long after he’s deposited himself directly into Mingi’s lap and wound his arms around his head, squirming so their torsos are sealed together, heart to heart. Once it hits him, though, he doesn’t bother stopping. His fascination with Mingi isn’t entirely sexual, but, well, it’s not not entirely sexual, either, and he thinks Mingi just might feel the same way. “Mingi-yah,” Hongjoong murmurs, kissing him, his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his neck, finally, fucking finally he gets to kiss his neck. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” Mingi breathes, and Hongjoong feels the way he heats up with his blush. “This—is this what you want?”
“What I want is just to—” Hongjoong lifts back up to kiss him properly again, his hands pulling too tightly at Mingi’s hair, and he peppers Mingi’s face with kisses until Mingi is laughing helplessly, so much putty in Hongjoong’s hands. Somehow they end up fully horizontal, and Hongjoong likes that very much, how he can just stretch his whole body out over Mingi’s and still have Mingi to spare. Hongjoong can finally suck on Mingi’s lower lip, can return to kissing that tempting neck, can stroke Mingi’s hair like he’s a pet while kissing him like a nymphomaniac on death row. One of Mingi’s legs comes up, caging Hongjoong in, and although the urgency from earlier has mellowed into a slower-burning heat, they still can’t stop kissing, swapping spit as they tilt their heads to different sides, and Hongjoong feels so good, so happy, and he hums in his throat and says between languid, wet kisses, “Can I tell you something?”
“Mhm?”
“I wasn’t ignoring you because I was mad at you or anything like that,” Hongjoong explains, his lips moving against Mingi’s when he speaks. “I was ignoring you because you’re my favorite.”
Mingi makes an incoherent squeaky noise, squirming underneath Hongjoong. “Really?”
“You can’t tell?” Hongjoong laughs. “I thought everyone knew.”
“I can’t tell,” Mingi says helplessly. “But I—I am? I’m your favorite?”
“Mingi, of course,” Hongjoong says and kisses him so deeply, wishes he could crawl inside him, let their thoughts meld together so Mingi can feel just how much Hongjoong adores him. Mingi just breathes oh in response, and when he squirms again, it must be to hide that he’s getting hard, but that fails miserably, because Hongjoong notices immediately and stops kissing him.
“Ah,” Mingi says shakily, obviously wildly misinterpreting everything again. “I’m sorry, hyung, just—it’ll go away—”
“You like being my favorite that much?” Hongjoong smiles, lifting up off of him to see the effect his words will probably have.
And Mingi reacts beautifully, just like Hongjoong hoped. His teeth sink into his lower lip and his eyes are shining, almost welling up with emotion, as his cheeks flush the deepest red yet. Underneath Hongjoong, his hips jerk slightly, but he visibly forces himself to go still. “I just can’t believe it,” he whispers, but with a hopeful, plaintive edge—he can be so manipulative, Mingi, but that’s just another thing Hongjoong likes about him.
“You need proof?” Hongjoong murmurs, leaning back down to hover a half-inch above Mingi’s mouth without kissing him. Mingi tilts his head, straining for a kiss, and whines when Hongjoong doesn’t give him one. “Just think about it for a second. Do you think I’d let anyone get away with half the shit I let you get away with on a daily basis, hmm?”
“No,” Mingi mumbles and has the decency to look bashful.
“What about this?” Hongjoong says. Kisses him. “You think I want to be doing this with anyone else?”
“I don’t know,” Mingi answers, and it actually sounds sincere, not like a ploy for more attention. “Do you?”
Hongjoong laughs softly, bumps his nose against Mingi’s. “No.”
“Oh, okay,” Mingi says happily. “You’re my favorite, too.”
This time, Hongjoong’s laugh is a little stronger, but he muffles it into Mingi’s neck, not wanting to draw outside attention—the last thing he wants is for someone to walk in on them right now, when things are still fragile. “I know that already,” Hongjoong sighs, kissing under his jaw.
Mingi shivers a little, his hands flexing on Hongjoong’s back. “I really thought you hated me,” he offers tremulously. “I was scared. But I guess I was wrong, since I’m your—”
He can’t finish the sentence and tries to curl in on himself and hide, but Hongjoong doesn’t let him, grinning. Oh, no, it turns out tormenting Mingi like this is even more fun than doing it in a wholly innocent context. “My what?” Hongjoong prompts. “Say it, Mingi, my what?”
“Your… favorite,” Mingi mouths, looking up at Hongjoong with shining eyes.
“My favorite.” Hongjoong nods, and this time he can feel the throb of Mingi’s cock in response. Wow, he really likes that, being Hongjoong’s one and only, and Hongjoong wonders what to do with this information. For now, though, what he really wants is to get his hands on him, if Mingi’s okay with that. Coyly, he pushes his body down against Mingi’s, and delights in the way Mingi’s breath wheezes out of him in response. “Mmm. Need some help?”
“You don’t have to,” Mingi says weakly.
“Nobody has to do anything,” Hongjoong points out reasonably, which makes Mingi laugh, the sweetest little sound. Hongjoong absently wonders if Mingi has ever fooled around with anyone before, let alone another guy—but that’s a question for later. He won’t put Mingi on the spot by asking. Instead, he just runs a hand down Mingi’s long torso to pet over the obvious, heavy bulge in his sweats, and Mingi makes such a loud noise in response that Hongjoong has to shush him, then kiss him for good measure to keep him silenced.
Mingi, perhaps unsurprisingly, has a huge cock. Based on the way he reacts when Hongjoong is just rubbing it through two layers of fabric, it’s safe to say that no, he doesn’t have a whole lot of experience in this department. Why is that so charming? Hongjoong coos at him, never fucking mind that that makes him sound like Wooyoung baby-talking San, and slides his hand past his waistband to actually grab him, or as much of him as he can hold in his small grip. “Hyung,” Mingi whimpers, his legs twitching. “I—I can’t believe you’re really doing this.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” Mingi says with surprising vehemence and pushes his hips up to slide his cock through Hongjoong’s fist.
Hongjoong laughs, dragging his fingertip over the head to make Mingi twitch again, because it’s cute. “Then I won’t,” he promises. “How could I let my favorite down?”
“Hyu-u-ung,” Mingi says, as scandalized as he is delighted, his cheeks pink, his lips glossy from being kissed so thoroughly, his dick hot and pulsing in Hongjoong’s hand. “That’s, it’s not nice, for you to—to like me the most. You’re supposed to like all of us the same.”
He is such a fucking brat, and Hongjoong would literally kill a man for him. “Well, I don’t,” he shrugs, and Mingi bites his lip in anticipation, hanging on his every word as his hips absently rock into Hongjoong’s hold. “Yeah, sue me, call me a bad leader. I can’t help it, either. I tried to stop and change it, but look where that got me, hm?”
Mingi’s eyes flutter and a smug, tiny smile starts to spread over his face. “I guess you’re right.”
“Don’t complain when you’re getting everything you want,” Hongjoong advises; it’s advice he gives a lot to the members, but it rings different right now, and Mingi moans. God, that’s pretty, the way he throws his head back. Hongjoong kisses his neck, sucks on his skin but obviously not enough to leave a mark, begins to stroke him more purposefully, and Mingi is shivering apart under him, helpless to the point that he can’t even hold onto Hongjoong’s shirt anymore. There’s no harm in teasing him some more, Hongjoong feels, especially since Mingi clearly likes it, too. “You really wanted this, right?”
“Yes,” Mingi breathes.
“How much?”
“I can’t even say.”
“Try,” Hongjoong says and stops stroking him.
Mingi moans in agony, thrashing a little, but when it becomes clear that Hongjoong won’t resume until he talks, he opens his eyes to glare at him. “You know how much,” he accuses with his signature pout.
Hongjoong’s heart sings. “Yeah, but I want you to say it.”
“Hyung is so mean,” Mingi whines. He squirms, huffs, whines, and pouts even harder, but finally, dipping his eyes aside, mumbles, “Wanted it so much, all the time. I know you know. I might be your favorite in the group, but you’re my favorite in—in the whole world.”
Mingi might actually be the most perfect boy ever born. Hongjoong kisses him as a reward, starts stroking him with a tight, intentional grip, and relents—he won’t torture him anymore, not after that. He’d thought he didn’t need Mingi to confess, and in a lot of ways, he didn’t; the way Mingi felt has been obvious since the beginning. But evidently, he’d wanted to hear it anyway, and Mingi, as always, had exceeded expectations spectacularly. There’s no need to talk from this point on, actions over words again, and Mingi is clutching Hongjoong’s arms for dear life, his moans working from the back of his throat like raw little sobs, and he has his eyes wide open as he comes, staring starry, adoring, disbelieving up at Hongjoong.
When he’s done, he turns his head into Hongjoong’s shoulder and arm, seeking to hide. Hongjoong lets him, kisses the side of his face just above his ear. “Feeling better?” he murmurs, and Mingi just nods quickly in confirmation. Hongjoong somehow wasn’t prepared at all for how tender he’d feel after doing this, but now he just wants to curl around Mingi like a dragon with his hoard and never let him out of his grasp. However, he’s also pretty hard and aching to be touched, too, and he arranges himself more on Mingi’s side, not as much on top of him, so he can just shove the same hand he’d jerked Mingi off with down his own pants and get some relief.
“Oh,” Mingi says, blinking his doe eyes like an ingenue. “I can—”
“Don’t you want to see how I like it first?” Hongjoong says, but he doesn’t really mean it—he can just see that Mingi is getting a little overwhelmed, the same way a child might cry upon being taken to a candy store. He wants it, but too much, and he’s not really prepared to get everything he wants, so Hongjoong will ease him into it, will help him, will make sure he’s not alone. It’s Hongjoong’s job to provide for Mingi without Mingi even needing to ask. And even if Mingi doesn’t understand that, he just agrees silently, laying his head on the pillow and watching Hongjoong as earnestly and eagerly as he does everything else.
It’s a little strange, to be watched while jacking off. But it’s hot, too, especially because of the adoring shine in Mingi’s eyes paired with a very serious scientific curiosity, cataloguing the motions of Hongjoong’s hand, the angle of his body. Hongjoong isn’t putting on a show or anything—maybe he should be better at that, considering how hard he’s worked to be stage-ready at all times otherwise—but Mingi is drinking up everything he’s doing, his breath is visibly hitching in his chest with his amazement, and it’s getting Hongjoong shockingly close shockingly fast. He hasn’t done this for a long time, but even when he did, it wasn’t like this. He likes it, he decides, being the center of Mingi’s universe. But of course the instant he’s gotten used to this, Mingi, evidently far more unhinged than Hongjoong has given him credit for, rushes to say, “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back,” and wriggles down the bed to origami-fold himself into a narrow space that’ll leave him mouth-level with Hongjoong’s dick.
Before Hongjoong can even say “What are you doing,” Mingi has his lips wrapped around the head of Hongjoong’s cock. His inexperience is palpable, but that only makes Hongjoong’s sick brain heat up further, imagining teaching Mingi everything he needs to know. He puts his free hand in Mingi’s hair, and Mingi blinks up at him through his eyelashes, no pretense, all raw innocent lush energy, and Hongjoong comes before he even realizes it’s happening. His body jolts with the pleasure, and he watches as if from outside his own body as first surprise washes over Mingi’s face, then delight and fulfilment. Mingi closes his eyes and swallows, sucks softly like on candy, of course the kid’s a natural cocksucker. Hongjoong is shuddering, oversensitive, he wants to kiss, and he very gently pulls Mingi off by the hair and guides him back up the bed so they can twist their bodies together and lock lips once again.
“Hyung,” Mingi whispers into his mouth, sounding so sweet, tasting of Hongjoong. “Hyung, Jongho’s gonna be back soon.”
“So? I’m the leader, I can do whatever I want,” Hongjoong shrugs, not meaning a word of it—wanting to impress Mingi is clearly a little bit addictive, and it works, Mingi breaks down into breathy, giddy giggles. But he quiets down when Hongjoong pets his hair and catches his eye more seriously so he can say, “Mingi-yah, listen. You know you had nothing to apologize for earlier, right? And I won’t ever do that again.” Mingi’s eyes go big as saucers, and Hongjoong immediately realizes his mistake and rushes to correct himself: “I mean ignore you or abandon you. C’mon. If you think I’m never doing this again, you’re actually insane.”
That mollifies Mingi instantly, and he just cuddles up against Hongjoong’s side, exactly like an enormous dog that thinks it’s a teacup Pomeranian. “I’m no snitch either,” he informs Hongjoong proudly. “I promise I won’t tell anyone that I’m your favorite.”
“Mingi,” Hongjoong sighs as Jongho comes into the room and doesn’t even bat an eye at seeing them all intertwined in Mingi’s bed, “I’m pretty sure everyone already knows.”