Chapter Text
“I don’t want you to go,” Mingyu confesses.
“I know.”
“I mean it. It’s been hard every time we send someone off, but with you…”
Mingyu is pressed into Wonwoo’s side in the backseat of one of the company cars, slouched down so that his head can rest on Wonwoo’s shoulder. His warm breath carries the sweet scent of peach soju and it tickles Wonwoo’s neck when he speaks.
“We’ve never been apart. Not for more than a week. Not in fifteen years.” Mingyu’s hand comes down hard on Wonwoo’s thigh and he winces. Mingyu really doesn’t know his own strength when he’s drunk.
“I know,” Wonwoo repeats, more emphatically this time. They’ve had this discussion before. More than once. Enlistment has always been a bittersweet topic. None of them want to put their lives on hold and go, but they’ve all quietly agreed that a forced break from the pace they’ve been grinding at for years isn’t exactly the worst thing in the world.
“It’s just too…” Mingyu’s voice breaks around the words and Wonwoo’s eyes widen in concern. Just how much has Mingyu had to drink? Wonwoo feels a slight sense of panic rise up the back of his throat.
“You’re going to be reporting soon too,” he reminds him, trying to mitigate some of Mingyu’s overflowing emotion. “And it’s not like we’re going to be in prison. We’ll still talk and see each other.”
Mingyu’s hand slides up Wonwoo’s leg to clutch the bottom of his shirt. Skinship isn’t anything new between them, but there’s a desperation in Mingyu’s movements that’s different from their usual closeness. His fine motor skills are uncoordinated from the alcohol and his fingertips slip under the fabric, brushing against the skin of Wonwoo's abdomen in a way that makes him involuntarily shiver.
“It won’t be the same,” Mingyu whines, and then his hands are clumsily sliding all the way under the hem of Wonwoo’s shirt. His fingers play across Wonwoo’s ribs like they’re piano keys. “I know it won’t be.”
Wonwoo’s gaze darts to the rearview mirror, but the driver's attention graciously remains fixed on the road ahead. Their staff has always been discrete. Still, he grabs Mingyu’s wrists and gently removes his hands from under his clothes.
Moments later, they pull into the underground parking garage of their apartment building. Mingyu struggles to get his door open so Wonwoo rushes over to the other side to help him. He thanks the driver, wishes him a safe trip back and then wraps an arm around Mingyu’s shoulders to guide him towards the elevator. By the time they reach their floor the brisk air of the garage seems to have sobered Mingyu up enough that he’s able to make his way into the apartment without needing to lean against the wall for support.
In the foyer, Wonwoo toes off his shoes and Mingyu does the same, though he has to place a steadying hand on Wonwoo’s arm to prevent himself from toppling over. When Wonwoo flicks on the light, Mingyu hisses and dramatically squints against the sudden brightness. It’s all comical, really, but Wonwoo isn’t in the mood to laugh. Tonight was his turn as the guest of honor at a farewell party afterall, and as much as he might try to downplay it, his impending enlistment has been weighing heavily on his mind for weeks. Mingyu being so clingy and needy certainly isn’t helping the situation.
“I’m scared,” Mingyu admits quietly, and there’s a real tremor in his voice. It tugs at Wonwoo’s heartstrings, but he knows it's mostly the alcohol speaking.
“Of what?” Wonwoo walks further into the apartment with Mingyu following close on his heels.
“Of everything changing. Of it being different when we get back.”
“It won’t be.” Wonwoo tries to reassure him, but a sense of uncertainty creeps into his own voice. He wants to add an ‘I promise’ at the end, but he’s never knowingly lied to Mingyu before. Of course things will be different. He’s been in the industry long enough to have seen first hand the transition groups experience after enlistment.
Later, Wonwoo will remember this exact moment in their conversation and wonder if it was foreshadowing or perhaps a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe Mingyu hadn’t been referring to the group as a whole at all, but rather just the two of them and their symbiotic relationship. And maybe it’s what comes immediately after this conversation that ultimately changes them more than the twenty-two months of separation ever could.
Wonwoo goes into the kitchen and heads straight to the refrigerator. He pulls open the door with the intention of getting them both some water, but before he can grab two bottles, Mingyu’s strong arm pushes it closed with such force that Wonwoo has to jump out of the way.
“You’re not taking me seriously,” Mingyu says with a heavy sigh.
Mingyu’s pout is his saving grace because otherwise Wonwoo is actually feeling slightly annoyed. He’s the one who's leaving. He’s the one who should be seeking support and comfort. He’s the one who should’ve gotten drunk tonight and rambled about his fears. But he can’t be mad at Mingyu. Not now and not ever, really. Mingyu wears his heart on his sleeve even more than most people probably realize and yet he’s always stepping up to act as a pillar of strength within the group. It makes Wonwoo feel special that he provides one of the few safe places where Mingyu can let his guard down and share his burdens, even if it sometimes comes at his own expense.
Plus, how could he ever be mad at Mingyu for being so distraught over the prospect of separating from each other? It makes Wonwoo feel a lot of conflicting things, but anger certainly is not one of them.
“I am taking you seriously,” Wonwoo assures.
Suddenly, Mingyu takes two long strides towards him and it causes Wonwoo to instinctively retreat until he finds his back pressing against the edge of the kitchen island.
“Are you?” Mingyu’s voice is firm, though not at all threatening, but there are only a few inches of space between the two of them now and that makes Wonwoo’s heart rate suddenly spike with adrenaline.
Wonwoo simply nods because his throat has gone too dry to speak.
There’s a stretch of silence as Mingyu seems to wrestle internally with something. His brows knit together as he sways slightly on his feet, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. He sighs and then swallows hard.
“I’m going to kiss you,” Mingyu announces then and Wonwoo feels the world start to spin away. His hands fly backwards to grip the edge of the island counter in an attempt to anchor himself. Seriously, just how much did Mingyu have to drink? What the fuck is going on? And why isn’t he immediately trying to stop it?
It doesn’t happen right away. Despite it not being posed as a question, Mingyu seems to wait, giving Wonwoo the chance to object or escape, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Not with the way Mingyu is staring at him so pleadingly. Not with the way his pulse is pounding in his ears and drowning out all rational thought.
Out of the corner of his eye, Wonwoo sees Mingyu’s hand slowly rising and he involuntarily flinches. He has no reason to react in this way, but every nerve in his body is on such high alert that any unexpected movement would cause him to jump. However, the instant flash of hurt that materializes across Mingyu’s features as he freezes in response makes Wonwoo’s heart ache so intensely that his knees almost buckle.
“O-Okay.” Wonwoo forces himself to stutter out the word of agreement as some kind of an apology, even though his throat feels so tight he can hardly breathe. Even though he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be agreeing to this when Mingyu is so clearly intoxicated. Even though this is probably very much not okay.
But then Mingyu grins so bright and so wide that it makes the logical part of Wonwoo’s brain short circuit. Mingyu’s hand resumes its journey, coming to rest against the curve of Wonwoo’s jaw. His deep brown eyes shine as they move between meeting Wonwoo’s and drifting down to gaze at his mouth.
“Okay,” Mingyu repeats and Wonwoo can tell he’s nervous, but then he slowly bows his head down and leans forward until their lips meet. Mingyu has always been brave, even when he’s uncertain.
It happens so fast. Wonwoo’s entire body seems to go rigid and cold, but then he warms just as suddenly and melts into the kiss. It’s gentle and soft, but there’s an undeniable neediness in the way Mingyu’s chest presses against his, as though just being connected by their mouths isn’t nearly close enough.
When Mingyu does pull away, his face is even pinker than his usual drunk flush. His eyes are wide. Pleading. Wonwoo isn’t sure what he himself looks like, but it’s probably a mixture of stunned and terrified.
Wonwoo is still grappling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions when Mingyu leans in again, kissing him harder this time. More confidently. His hand slides to cup the back of Wonwoo’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Mingyu flattens against him, hips gently rocking forward, and Wonwoo can’t help the way his body reflexively reacts. As he feels himself harden within the confines of his jeans, self-consciousness and panic squeeze his lungs, but he still can’t seem to conjure up the strength to push Mingyu away.
When Mingyu does finally pull back on his own accord, they’re both breathing heavily and there’s a look of intensity in Mingyu’s eyes that Wonwoo hasn’t ever seen before. His heart ricochetes around his chest in what is probably an attempt at a warning, but Wonwoo can’t seem to ground himself long enough to make any logical sense of what’s happening or if its even real.
And so when Mingyu reaches out, grabs his wrist and then starts pulling him towards his bedroom, Wonwoo drags his feet, but ultimately follows because he’s already switched to running on auto-pilot.
“You’re really drunk,” Wonwoo says as they cross the threshold into Mingyu’s room. He’s surprised by how timid and weak his voice sounds in its lame attempt at a protest.
“Of course I am,” Mingyu responds, releasing Wonwoo from his grip. “How else do you think I’d have worked up the courage to do this?”
This was planned, Wonwoo realizes. Premeditated. That revelation makes the situation both more and less anxiety-inducing. His thoughts tangle and knot as he feels increasingly untethered from reality. How is this happening?
Mingyu pulls open his bedside table drawer with deliberate movements and retrieves two items that he then casually tosses to Wonwoo. The small cardboard box and tube bounce off Wonwoo's chest, but he manages to awkwardly catch them in his arms.
Condoms and lube.
Wonwoo makes a choking sound in his throat as he gawks at Mingyu. The room seems to spin, a dizzying whirlwind of surprise and realization settling in.
“Look,” Mingyu says as he pulls off his hoodie and t-shirt and drops them onto the floor. “You can go to your room right now and we’ll pretend this all never happened. You can convince yourself I was just drunk and the emotions of your goodbye dinner got to me and we’ll never speak of it again. We’ve been in more awkward situations before. Tomorrow can just be like any other normal day if you want it to be. Nothing will change.”
‘Have we????’ Wonwoo thinks in alarm. ‘Have we ever been in a more awkward situation before?’ He certainly can’t remember any of them right now, but then again, it’s hard to focus on anything other than what’s happening at this very moment. The implications are obvious. The idea that tomorrow could just come and carry on like all of this hadn’t happened is outrageous. The fact that Mingyu even considers that a possibility after what he’s just proposed is almost infuriating.
Wonwoo shifts back and forth on his feet, paralyzed by indecision. Anger bubbles under the surface. He knows Mingyu is well-meaning in giving him an out, but it also puts the onus on Wonwoo to choose where they go from here. He never asked to be put into this situation. Never in a million years would he have prepared for this scenario.
He looks down. The box of condoms and lube look ludicrous clutched in his trembling hands. He might as well be holding the Ruyi Jingu Bang and a bottle of liquid gold. The ridiculousness of it seems to slam him back down into reality and he leans over, putting them down on the edge of Mingyu’s bed. He’s not prepared for this. Not physically, not mentally, certainly not emotionally.
“We shouldn’t,” Wonwoo says, his voice unintentionally colder and harder than he'd intended. He knows it's an effort to convince himself more than Mingyu that he's resolute in his decision because, deep down, he's far from certain.
“Alright.”
Mingyu stands there, the curves of his pectorals and the lines of his abdominal muscles on full display. Physically, he’s strong, sturdy, dauntless, but in that moment he seems to shrink in on himself. His shoulders hunch forward as his arms come up to sheepishly cover his chest, something he’s never done in front of Wonwoo before. He smiles, but it’s thin and doesn’t meet his eyes. This is an expression Wonwoo has seen before, usually when Mingyu’s in physical pain, but trying to convince the group he can carry on with practice.
Wonwoo’s heart shatters into tiny pieces that seem to nick at the soft tissue of his lungs because he suddenly can’t take a full breath in. Everything is all wrong. Everything is all fucked up. How did everything go so bad so quickly?
“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo chokes out, wringing his hands in the way he always does when he’s nervous or anxious.
Mingyu shakes his head. “Don’t be. I’m sorry I crossed the line.”
Wonwoo desperately wants to say more. He wants to explain how he really feels - has felt for so long - and to reassure Mingyu that this isn’t a rejection, it’s just really terrible timing. It’s too much all at once. It doesn’t even feel real. He wants to remind Mingyu that he knows he isn’t good in spontaneous situations like this, especially not ones that could have so many potential repercussions. But Mingyu is turning away and climbing into bed and Wonwoo recognizes it as a gentle dismissal.
“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo whispers again, and this time he’s met with silence so he quietly shuffles out of the room, his hands shaking and his legs feeling like gelatin.
He retreats to his own bedroom and then into the safety of his bathroom. For a full ten minutes, he simply stands in the middle of the tile floor, feeling like he might be sick. Then he’s suddenly stripping off his clothes as though they burn. He gazes into the mirror, feeling like the places where Mingyu’s fingers had touched against his torso in the backseat of the car might’ve been branded into him, but of course there are no visible marks left behind.
He turns the shower on, making the water so hot that the entire room quickly fills with steam, and when he steps under the spray it leaves angry red rivulets along his pale skin. He’s definitely not hard anymore, but a few quick strokes instantly sends blood rushing down to his cock. Tension is coiled so sickeningly in his stomach, he’s desperate to find some kind of release, even as the sour feeling of shame creeps up the back of his throat. Familiar thoughts of Mingyu flood his brain, fodder that often fuels private sessions of getting himself off and always ends with him feeling humiliated and depraved. But new, tangible memories accompany his usual fantasies. Mingyu’s needy lips crashing into his. Greedy hips rocking forward to create dizzying friction. The alternate reality in which he’s fucking Mingyu right now, learning how he actually looks and sounds when he unravels instead of pathetically imagining it.
Wonwoo’s breath hitches as he comes and a small, shaky moan slips from between his lips. It doesn’t feel particularly good, but it exhausts him enough to slow some of his racing thoughts. He feels so physically drained that he has to brace himself against the wall of the shower to keep his knees from giving out.
Why now?
Why like this?
Why when he’s leaving?
Why when everything already feels so uncertain and terrifying?
And why the fuck did he run away from something he’s wanted so badly for so long?
A seed of regret imbeds itself into the bottom of Wonwoo’s chest. The pressure of it aches. His shoulders shake as he tilts his head back under the shower spray, letting the water pound against his face. It’s only the slight taste of diluted salt against his lips that ultimately makes him realize he’s crying. It’s startling. It’s devastating.
Wonwoo stays in the shower until the water runs ice cold and he’s emotionally empty, then he shuffles to his bed and collapses down against the mattress, still soaking wet, but unable to care.
The next day, things are the same on the surface as they always have been. They’re the same as they always have been two days later too, when Wonwoo parts from a tearful, but smiling Mingyu as he leaves to report to base for his enlistment. But underneath the normalcy and the usual banter and the familiar level of skinship, Wonwoo can sense that something has shifted irreparably.