It’s a cold night in October, and Mingyu’s head feels heavy and kind of like it’s filled with cotton and flies and regret. Regret that he went over to the party two streets over, regret that he didn’t take someone’s coat, regret that he didn’t drink quite enough to pass out at the host’s house. Since now he had to get up the stairs to his floor, for the elevator in their building had last been working back in the 1980’s. His legs weren't really doing as they were told, his steps clumsy and missing stairs and it felt like he had started climbing up them years ago. His breath comes out in visible puffs, disappearing into the cold night air that roams the hallways. The sight reminds him of smoke. The smell of smoke filling up a room, air disappearing around him and it getting harder and harder to breathe while gazing at wisps of it escaping from between a pair of thin lips.
The image makes him stop, and Mingyu holds his breath for a while, feeling too sober for his liking. But soon world returns to it’s hazy glory. Focusing on things was still difficult, his head still heavy.
The flickering lights in the hallway bring out a dull, persistent ache behind Mingyu’s eyes, the tall boy leaning against the cold stone walls and apartment doors while slowly making his way to his door. It’s easy to pick out from all the rest, it has scratches and bruises on it from the time of the previous tenant (a pretty lady who had a stalker, or what he called himself, her true love, and one night the fucker tried to make his way through the front door and almost kicked the whole thing in before the cops dragged him out).
He drops his keys more times he can count, mumbling curses when he finally unlocks the door with trembling hands, stepping in and kicking off his shoes. The lights aren’t on, but there are another pair of shoes next to the door. Worn out sneakers, once vibrant red but now a sad shade of brown. The darkness feels good after the bright flashing lights of the hallway, and Mingyu starts to slowly move through the dark apartment, steps clumsy and noisy. He makes his way to the living room, and he can hear their neighbours playing slow, ambient music. He knows the artist but not the song. The beat sounds like a kid falling down a flight of stairs to his ears, though.
The room has only a couch by the window, a table in front of it, and a shitty TV on the other side of the room. Otherwise the floors are just filled with things like clothes, notes, books, empty boxes or bags of food, bottles or whatever has been left there while working on assignments and such. Assignments he should be working on, instead of getting drunk. Mingyu can’t see anyone in the dark, but he knows he’s not alone. The only large window in the room is wide open. He stumbles over to the wall, leans against it and slides down.
A light sparks through the dark, when Wonwoo who’s sitting on the floor right across the room from Mingyu flicks on his lighter. His features are illuminated in Mingyu’s favourite ways. Sharp, defined, warm, incredibly beautiful , eyes gazing down at the cigarette he’s lighting. The corners of his eyes are smudged dark, and in this light his eyelashes look so long Mingyu kind of feels uncomfortable looking at them, but doesn’t dare to turn his eyes away.
Wonwoo keeps the lighter on but sets it down on the floor and looks up at Mingyu, and the younger can feel his mouth drying up and lungs collapsing, and the blood in his veins runs slower. Or then he’s just really fucked up and is starting to feel intoxicated only now. Only when he’s here. The lighter making sure he is seen.
Wonwoo smiles around the cigarette before pulling it away from his lips and exhaling, his smile welcoming and friendly but making Mingyu still feel uneasy, like he’s not supposed to be here. Because he was too much of everything, and Mingyu was just drunk and too fucking little.
“Did you have fun?”
Wonwoo’s deep voice swims through the silence, and Mingyu wants to cry. None of that sniffling and a couple of sobs shit but loud like a small child. The cigarette is back at Wonwoo’s mouth, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he breathes in, eyes fluttering shut. Mingyu knew he liked smoking at this time of night the best, said that it felt the best, gave him more peace of mind. Or then he was just as pretentious as so many of Mingyu’s friends had told him he was. Mingyu doesn’t mind though, even if he is, he really doesn’t.
“Yeah, I guess,” he says, probably not sounding at all like he means it, and not really hearing it but just knowing that he’s slurring a bit, still staring at Wonwoo’s mouth. Wonwoo huffs out a soft laugh, smoke slipping out of his mouth and Mingyu want’s to chase it back to his lips.
He doesn’t really know when it all started, him staring at Wonwoo and thinking he’s somehow blessed by being so close to him. Way back before their third roommate moved out, since he just back then realized how deep in this shit he was when Wonwoo one day worried about their rent and how they should find another person to share it with, and Mingyu went out that night and got himself a second job. Wonwoo also made ends meet, leaving the two of them alone, sharing the small place. And Mingyu felt this churning in his gut at the realization of how glad that made him.
He closes his eyes for a while, eyelids feeling heavy and opens them to see Wonwoo leaning in a bit, trying to catch his gaze. The cigarette in his hand, between the long but masculine looking fingertips, has burned down to be a small stub, almost done. A bit like Mingyu, really drunk and done, who feels something building up inside his throat, burning behind his eyes. It’s getting really cold inside the living room with the window open, and that’s probably why Wonwoo was wearing a hoodie, and it's Mingyu’s hoodie, jesus christ--
“Fuck,” Mingyu groans out, sounding almost as miserable and confused as he feels, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard, hiding his face.
He can see the change in Wonwoo’s expression before covering his eyes, the older throwing his cigarette in the ashtray on the floor and starting to make his way over to Mingyu.
“Christ , what’s going on?” He can hear Wonwoo right in front of him, above him, smell the smoke in his breath. There’s a hand, barely touching the crown of his head, and Mingyu whines quietly.
“I know something’s up, you’re usually so happy and annoying while fucked up,” Wonwoo crouches down in front of him, one hand on each of his shoulders, squeezing, offering comfort, and it makes everything hurt, his chest, his eyes.
The demanding tone the words hold make his sobs stutter, a gross wet sound when the breath catches in his throat, and he wants to die but Wonwoo grabs his hands into his own, and pulls them away from his face.
There’s only a vague question of why on his face, and he’s really close to Mingyu who's so concentrated on trying to breathe quietly, as quietly as possible. His cold hands feel like they could melt right into Wonwoo’s warm ones.
“It’s like.. LIke I’m a grain of sand, right?” He starts, voice strained and quiet, words slurring. Wonwoo just stares at him, his eyes searching his face, trying his best to follow even though Mingyu is making little to no sense to him. Mingyu, feeling brave, looks straight into the older boy's eyes.
“And, like..” Mingyu licks his lips, tears still in his eyes and clumping his eyelashes together, making it awkward to blink at all. “And.. you’re the desert, you know?” He kind of wishes he didn’t sound as sincere as he does, his voice not wavering.
Wonwoo stares at him for a while, before laughing, his nose scrunching up a bit in a way that Mingyu loves. His thumbs rub circles into Mingyu’s palms.
“Fuck, how much did you even drink,” Wonwoo let’s go of one hand and reaches up to wipe tears away from Mingyu’s face with his sleeve, and sweeping his hair back from his face. Mingyu leans into the touch, absolutely shameless at this point, and Wonwoo leaves his hand there, against the younger’s cheek.
They stay there for a while, Mingyu leaning against the cold wall behind him and just staring at Wonwoo’s face that’s strained in a weird way, the hand on his cheek soothing him. The backs of his fingers sliding gently up until Mingyu’s cheekbones and down to his jaw. Mingyu notices they’re shaking, just a bit.
“I’m sorry I made you cry.”
Wonwoo looks like it, too. But Mingyu’s not entirely sure what else is he sorry about. Mingyu’s eyelids feel a bit heavy again, and he blinks slowly, positioning his hands on either side of him and leaning in, supporting his weight on them.
“.. It’s fine.”
He shouldn’t do this, not to himself. He’s ruined, inside out, his thoughts and wishes have been tainted with the desire to just settle for even the smallest touch or span of attention. He shouldn’t try to strife for something he just can’t handle but he ends up doing it anyway. His hands slide up Wonwoo’s arms, all the way to his shoulders where he lets them rest, leaning in closer, and then stopping. Waiting.
He doesn’t know where the bravery comes from, probably from being intoxicated and already so close, and that he has already said so much.
And then Wonwoo’s lips are there, against his, the hand on his cheek moving to cradle the back of his neck. Mingyu’s eyes slide shut, his lungs again feeling like collapsing, and his blood running slower in his veins. Tears start to form in his eyes again, and it must be sort of gross to be kissing someone for the first time while they’re crying, but Wonwoo seems to be dealing with it just fine. He wipes the tears away with his hands, holding Mingyu’s face, not letting their lips part.
Wonwoo kisses like Mingyu somehow thought he would. He tastes like cigarettes, first of all. The taste is tangy and overpowering but not bad at all. Wonwoo kisses him slow, and wet and maybe even lazy in a way, but not lacking in anything. Making Mingyu feel weightless, like every other part of his body that is not touching Wonwoo doesn’t exist anymore.
Mingyu makes a sound of disapproval when he can feel Wonwoo backing away, and Wonwoo chuckles deep in his chest, lips curling into a smile. The hands on his face slide down to take hold of the back of his neck, and as older boy sits back on to the floor, he keeps pulling Mingyu closer. He doesn’t need to be told twice, and in quick clumsy motions he places his long legs on either side of Wonwoo, finding his place on the older boy’s lap.
Wonwoo stares into his eyes, with an unreadable expression, his hand sliding up to his face and he runs his thumb across Mingyu’s lower lip.
“You’re wasted,” He states.
Mingyu just nods, his whole being feeling like it's vibrating or something, small quick shivers running up and down his spine, and he can't take his eyes off of Wonwoo.
“But you’re into this,” Wonwoo says more than asks, but a bit concerned, still.
“Yeah,” Comes Mingyu’s reply, parting his lips slightly to slightly suck the tip of Wonwoo’s thumb into his mouth.
“Jesus,” Is all Wonwoo forces out before moving his hand out of the way and smashing their mouths together. He licks into Mingyu’s mouth, Mingyu letting it fall open for him with a sigh through his nose. His hands are gripping hard at Wonwoo's shoulders, keeping him in place, fearing the weightlessness he feels. Wonwoo's tongue is roaming his mouth and his hands are pulling him closer, deeper, but for Mingyu it doesn't feel like it's enough.
He’s already hard in his pants, probably harder than he has ever been before in his whole life. And for a while he worries about it, about Wonwoo feeling it too. But since he’s sitting on Wonwoo’s lap he can feel the outline of him, hard against his ass, which results of him moaning into the other boy’s mouth because holy fucking shit.
It was all surreal and foreign to him that Jeon Wonwoo had gotten a hard-on from making out with him, but he refuses to give it much thought though, instead lifting his whole body up slightly before rolling his hips and grinding them down against Wonwoo’s groin.
The sound Wonwoo makes at that is probably going to haunt Mingyu’s dreams forever, Wonwoo's tongue still in his mouth so he can feel it as well. Wonwoo’s hands are sliding down his back, all the way down until they grab his ass, resulting in Mingyu’s hips snapping forward. Wonwoo meets his hips half way, the fucking gentleman he is, and Mingyu’s whole world is just Wonwoo’s mouth moving against his and his erection grinding against his ass.
Wonwoo lets go soon, too soon, but then his hands are slipping past the hem of his shirt, starting to work open his pants, and Mingyu pulls back to breathe. Wonwoo tugs his pants down his thighs, his underwear along with them.
They look at each other, Mingyu whining softly at the back of his throat when Wonwoo wraps his hand around him and strokes him in slow languid motions. MIngyu can feel his whole face burning up, but doesn’t look away. He loves the idea that Wonwoo can see his every reaction. Wonwoo's mouth rests open, lips slightly swollen and he looks at him like he’s seeing something incredibly hot and amazing and it’s fucking Mingyu up even more than the hand stroking him, painfully slow and steady, before finally picking up the pace. He wants to, needs to touch Wonwoo and he tries to bring his hands down to get Wonwoo’s pants off, but the older boy flicks his wrist or does something that has Mingyu gasping for air.
Wonwoo circles the head of his dick with his thumb, and Mingyu can’t and really doesn’t even bother to control his voice anymore, letting out a high pitched whine, shaky and breathless. “Oh my god,” He buries his face into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck, panting against the bare skin there, mouthing Wonwoo’s name against his jawline, again and again. His hands are clutching at Wonwoo’s shoulders, hips jerking up and thrusting into Wonwoo’s fist.
“God, you’re so hot,” Wonwoo breathes into his ear, his deep voice shaking a bit. Mingyu backs away and supports himself on his trembling knees so Wonwoo can push his pants down to his thighs. As soon as his dick is free from his boxers, Mingyu wraps his slender fingers around it and leans in for a messy kiss, swallowing Wonwoo’s moans while jacking him off, hurried and frantic and so eager it's kind of embarrassing.
Wonwoo growls and bites down on to his lip, greedy and needy and demanding. He can feel Wonwoo’s other hand slip under his shirt and slide up his chest, fingers flicking over a nipple at the same time as he jerks Mingyu’s dick off quick and messy and slick from the precome. And Mingyu whimpers, hips stuttering for he’s so fucking close.
Wonwoo pulls his hand back, bringing it up to the back of Mingyu’s head and tugging him firmly by the hair away from the older boy’s neck, so he can see Mingyu’s face. It stings a bit but Mingyu doesn’t mind, honestly.
Wonwoo is staring at him while panting and keeping him there by his hair, at Mingyu sitting across his lap, open mouthed and gasping, whines souding like sobs. Mingyu’s eyes slide shut, his orgasm building up and what feels like every single muscle in his body tensing up.
“You look so good, christ. Mingyu,” Wonwoo growls, his breath hot on his face and that’s all Mingyu needs, before he’s coming all over Wonwoo’s hand with a loud cry, his whole body trembling and curling into himself. Wonwoo doesn’t stop stroking him, but slows down, letting Mingyu ride it out until he’s a shaking, breathless, ruined mess on his lap and the overstimulation makes it hard for him to make a sound.
It doesn’t take too long for Wonwoo to follow suit, his hips stuttering while fucking up into Mingyu’s fist and coming with a low moan, and when Mingyu’s opens his eyes he can see what Wonwoo looks like mid-orgasm and it’s not far from being a religious experience, really. Wonwoo’s eyes are closed, mouth agape and his whole face tenses up and then relaxes. After a couple of deep breaths he opens his eyes to look at Mingyu who lets go of his softening dick.
They're both still panting, breath ghosting on each other's lips, wiping their hands on the nearest piece of clothing they can find, no matter if it's one or the other's. Wonwoo lets go of his hair and returns his hand to his face, his thumb caressing Mingyu's cheekbone, and he's staring at him like he's something beautiful and new, and Mingyu can't move, he can't breathe.
He must look as wrecked as he feels, because Wonwoo sushes him and presses a slow, painfully gentle kiss to his lips.
"Do you like me, Mingyu?" He mumbles against his lips, his voice low, like he hasn't used it in years. Mingyu just nods, because it's somehow more respectable than saying something along the lines of 'no it's more like I'm kind of in love with you.' It just doesn't hold the same edge.
Wonwoo smiles, tightlipped and hard to figure out, but still smiles. So when he starts to get up from under Mingyu, Mingyu doesn't panic. When he stands up, and runs his hand through Mingyu's hair gingerly before closing the window and picking up his lighter and returning to his bedroom, Mingyu just goes with it.
He sits on the floor for a couple more moments, before getting up and stumbling into his own room, falling heavily on his bed and passing out almost instantly.
It’s barely even morning when Mingyu is awoken by the overwhelming feeling of nausea that shakes him awake, his gag reflex going crazy, and he makes it out of his room and into the bathroom in six long strides before lunging at the toilet and throwing up. He keeps spitting and spewing, the taste of bile so strong he feels sick again and again, bringing tears into his eyes. His head feels like it's going to break apart.
He can hear footsteps behind him, but doesn’t raise his head from where he’s letting it hang between his hands that are gripping the toilet seat hard enough for his knuckles to turn white, trying to take deep breaths. Wonwoo’s hand lands at the small of his back, soothingly sliding along his spine up and down. All tension bleeds away from Mingyu’s body at the touch, but the relief that washes over him doesn’t last when he soon feels sick again.
Wonwoo stays there, soothing his back and holding Mingyu’s hair back away from his face until Mingyu is just dry-heaving, his stomach completely empty and he's sure he's never going to drink again. He groans out, weak and feeling gross in more ways than one. Wonwoo flushes the toilet for him, and Mingyu slowly gets up and moves over to the sink to brush his teeth. The toothpaste tastes incredible when it’s washing away the taste of bile from his tongue, and Mingyu leans his head against the cool surface of the bathroom mirror, sighing at the sensation.
After spitting into the sink he looks into the mirror, first seeing himself looking horrible, and then Wonwoo behind him, leaning into the wall and looking at him through the mirror. Mingyu quickly averts his gaze and keeps brushing his teeth, until he’s done and nothing tastes like puke anymore, and he starts making his way to his room.
Wonwoo follows him, grabbing his wrist in the hall. Mingyu takes in a shaky breath before turning to look over at him. Wonwoo’s wearing some flannels and a shirt that he clearly changed into before going to sleep. Mingyu fell asleep with his clothes still on, and is pretty sure he smells like old alcohol among other things. Like sweat, and now vomit.
Wonwoo’s thumb is caressing the inside of his wrist, and Mingyu hopes he doesn’t notice how his pulse is picking up.
“Have a smoke with me,” His voice is thick with sleep, and sleepiness shows on his features too. Mingyu looks at their hands, and after a moment of silence he nods.
"Yeah." Wonwoo picks up a hoodie, Mingyu’s hoodie again, from the floor of his room.
Wonwoo opens the window and Mingyu realizes the sun hasn’t even risen yet. It’s still dark outside, and the cold air seeps through the window and surrounds him. He shivers and sits down onto the floor next to Wonwoo, who’s already bringing a cigarette up to his lips from the pack, and lights it. Mingyu is close enough to breathe in the smell, their shoulders and arms touching.
Smoke seeps through from between Wonwoo’s lips, and Mingyu again feels the need to chase it back to Wonwoo’s mouth. And it hits him that now he actually sort of can, so he reaches over to pick the thing away from Wonwoo’s mouth and leans in to press their lips together. Wonwoo hums, smiling, and soon Mingyu’s mouth is full of smoke he tries his best to breathe in. He messes it up of course, pulling away and coughing and sputtering, Wonwoo laughing at him loud and breathy and Mingyu doesn’t mind the sting in his throat, even though it brings tears into his eyes. Wonwoo grabs his wrist and brings his hand holding the cigarette closer to his face.
“Want to try again?” Wonwoo asks him, inhaling, but Mingyu shakes his head.
“Nah, I don’t think I’m fit for it,” Mingyu says, a big smile making it's way on to his lips.
Wonwoo shrugs, grinning, and they sit the rest of the time in silence, until Wonwoo places the stub into the ashtray on the floor. His hand slips into Mingyu's hair, pulling him closer by the neck.
He leans over to place a wet kiss on the spot on Mingyu's jaw, right below his ear, and Mingyu's guts are twisting violently and his whole body goes slack against Wonwoo. The older boy stays there, his breath ghosting on Mingyu's hairline, breathing him in.
"You're not a grain of sand," he mumbles, quiet and almost a whisper. Mingyu scoffs and shoves him in the arm, and Wonwoo laughs softly but keeps him there, not letting him go anywhere.
"Shut the fuck up, I was wrecked," he grouses, turning to face Wonwoo with a sour expression.
"But you're not," he insists. "And I'm not a desert or what the hell ever." Mingyu groans and brings his hands up to bury his face in them, and Wonwoo snorts against his skin.
"It was all complimentary, I swear."
"Yeah, right." Mingyu can hear the smile in Wonwoo's voice. It calms him. Makes it feel like maybe everything isn't fucked up about this situation, even though they haven't really discussed anything for real, and Wonwoo keeps pressing kisses to his neck and it's really distressing.
"How.. bad are we?" He manages to ask, voice strained. Wonwoo lifts his lips off of the skin of his neck, and slowly backs away so he can take a look at Mingyu. He's pretty sure the way he's scared shitless shows on his face, but he can't save himself in this situation either way so he does nothing about it. Wonwoo looks like he's really doing his best thinking what to say.
"We-, I think we're fine," His words stumble a bit, and it's sort of new and exiting. "We're fine. Not like I want to go back, it's not like that. But.. that this? That this is fine, and I want to keep doing this." Wonwoo motions between the two of them, licking his lips nervously. It feeds in to the realization that maybe he doesn't really have all this figured out either.
And Mingyu gives him a long look, before turning away and leaning over on to Wonwoo's shoulder so the older boy doesn't need to see his face twist up with all the different feelings that he's having and couldn't explain even if he tried.