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“Have you seen him yet?” Mingyu fights off the way his body wants to coil tight at the question. Instead, he focuses on flipping through the sheets of his worn-out clipboard again, the brown cork covered in a decade of old scribbles and stickers. He reads through the list of names, looks over each stat and piece of background info. All the while, Seungcheol frowns at him from his left and waits and waits before giving a drawn-out huff.
“You can’t just ignore it Gyu. You knew this was happening.” Mingyu rolls his eyes at the words, looks up at his life-long best friend for a mere second before turning back to the papers in front of him. The fuck kind of name is ‘Vernon’? A foreigner maybe?
“I wouldn’t call it ‘ignoring it.’” is what he finally settles on when Seungcheol just continues to stare, face a mask of motherly-like disapproval. Aish. The boy’s gotta stop hanging out with Jeonghan so much, he’s starting to pick up his habits. Though, he knows such a feat would be impossible, not with the way they’re regularly fucki--
“What would you call it then?” Seungcheol interrupts his thoughts. Mingyu unceremoniously drops the clipboard to the dugout bench. It makes a resounding clang in the quiet space around them. Or, well, as quiet as a baseball field filled with team tryouts can be, after all.
He turns to his friend, gives him the best glare he can muster. He wishes the other knew when to stop pushing without Mingyu having to tell him to. Its one of the older’s worst habits, and has perpetually been the cause of nearly every fight they’ve held over their two decades of friendship. At least this time the boy has the wherewithal to hold some guilt to his expression, soft eyes turning even softer around the edges with sympathy. Mingyu doesn’t even know whether that or the earlier wheedling is worse. When Seungcheol reaches over to rub soothingly at his shoulder, Mingyu decides on the latter.
“Gyu…Mingyu-ah. I know this’s gotta be hard for you. But you need to acknowledge the inevitable yeah? Plus, you always wanted to go into coaching after college anyways, think of this as an…accelerated path.”
Mingyu lets the words drape over him like a cool sheet on a stifling summer’s day. They cling to his heated, jagged edges, soothe over them until he feels less stifled. Despite everything he feels his mouth turn up at the corners, and doesn’t try and fight Seungcheol when he pulls him in for a quick hug.
“It just…it sucks, hyung. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” he muffles into the older’s shoulder. The team jersey fabric is slightly scratchy against the tip of his nose. Mingyu revels in it for a second. Seungcheol coos a little, something that at any other time would raise his hackles, but this time actually comforts him. Mingyu blames it on how threadbare his entire being feels, the frazzled strings of his emotions coming loose. He’s felt like a bruise since his alarm startled him from sleep this morning. It took an entire hour of staring at his cracked dorm ceiling to slump out of his covers.
“Just remember Gyu, no one will ever be on your level. You’re Kim fuckin’ Mingyu.” Seungcheol promises when they pull away, a thick finger poked into the taller boy’s face. “Whoever is taking your place will be good, but don’t dwell on feeling replaced. If this team could’ve functioned without a pitcher, Coach would’ve left your spot open forever.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mingyu shrugs. “Go practice with the rest of them. Try not to overdo it though. You already know Coach’s picking you.” he waves his friend off.
Seungcheol gives him a jaunty little salute. Mingyu rolls his eyes. He watches him jog into the field, decides he’ll stop gluing his gaze to the cement floor of the dugout and actually take in his surroundings.
Hands curled around the metal fence in front of him, Mingyu peers out at the bright red spots dotting the muted green field. The wind curls over his cheeks and bites them raw. Mingyu ignores it--he’s done this sport for so long that being outside in the middle of winter barely phases him anymore.
He spots some familiar faces, players from the previous seasons returning. There’s Seungcheol of course, the boy half-heartedly swinging a bat around. In front of him is Soonyoung, throwing haphazard pitches at an increasingly disgruntled Cheol. Behind them is Jihoon, stout figure shaking in laughter at their friends’ antics. His bat lays unattended at his side. The boy isn’t even trying to practice…Mingyu can’t blame him.
After all, its really a formality for them all to be there. They’ve been on the team even longer than Mingyu--Cheol in his last year, Jihoon and Soonyoung one behind. They’re good enough to have features in the school paper every season, good enough for murmurs of big-league scouts to start up every playoff season. The likelihood of Coach not picking them from the smattering of new recruits is slim. The knowledge makes pride bubble up in Mingyu’s chest.
Mingyu decides to focus on the new faces instead. One in particular catches his eye.
Its a little hard to see him from this distance, especially with the glare of the sun. He’s tall, maybe only a few inches shorter than Mingyu himself, with long legs and a lithe build. Mingyu had zeroed in on him as soon as he’d shown up, body curled into itself with obvious anxiety. His hands shook when he dropped his bag in the dugout, his lips had stuttered his name as Mingyu checked him off the list. He wonders--wonders what the boy was thinking at that moment. Was he intimidated by Mingyu himself, or the entire process in general?
Mingyu watches him now, takes in his stance as he pitches. One of the new guys is up to bat, a chiseled, angular sort of face with brown hair and eyes turned golden by the sun. There’s a hint of something foreign to him. Mingyu wonders if he’s the one with the strange name.
The metallic clang of metal bat hitting canvas ball echos into the open air. Mingyu watches the new pitcher curse to himself as mystery foreigner (?) hits a perfect shot into left field. Mingyu smirks despite himself, Seungcheol’s earlier words boomeranging back into his mind.
Maybe his hyung is right. No one will ever be on his level.
Even if they’re there to replace him.
~~~
Lee Seokmin. Number zero-two. The irony of the boy’s chosen number isn’t lost on Mingyu.
He fully puts the face to the name later that day, when Coach drags him to the stuffy offices of the university gym, shows him a myriad of pictures laid out across his desk. Each one had a name underneath and a smattering of different stats, hometowns, ages. The man had scribbled notes beneath the black and white printouts; some had big Xs beneath them, a few with giant green check marks. Most of them though had both symbols followed by a big black question mark. Thus Mingyu’s newly appointed position as co-coach came in.
“A lot of them were surprisingly good.” Coach starts with, head leaned back on the burgundy office chair. Mingyu wonders if it used to be a red closer to their uniform, if years of dust and wear gave it a grey overcast. Or maybe their school simply fucked up and ordered one the wrong tone. It could be a toss-up on any day.
“Most of them I couldn’t really make heads or tails of though. Hope you were paying attention, kid. You’re the dealbreaker here.”
The man’s words make a stew of anxiety out of his gut. Mingyu has never liked having power. The responsibility of it scares him. It was the biggest reason why it’d taken him the entire summer after the accident to get back to the man, to accept the position. The most hunkering of many reasons, at least.
“And the pitcher?” Mingyu finds himself blurting instead of the multitude other questions sitting heavy on his tongue. He’d meant to keep it to himself. His heart’s never quite liked following along with his brain’s plans though.
The inquiry makes his Coach pause. Mingyu can read the newly tense lines of his body like a picturebook. Just that alone answers the half-question that left his lips. He tries not to dwell on it, can already feel the sting in his eyes and tightness of his throat. He has no reason to react this way, he knows. But knowledge can only stop instinct so much.
“Mingyu--”
“It’s. Fine.” Mingyu cuts him off stiltedly. He grabs for the papers spread across the desk to distract himself, change the subject. The one he scoops up one has the foreigner’s face plastered to it. Chwe Vernon Hansol. Prefers to go by Vernon. Born in New York, USA. Well. That answers that question then.
“He was good…the pitcher. I know.” Mingyu murmurs to the cheap white printer paper. He grabs a Sharpie, emblazons the page with a glaringly green checkmark. ‘Vernon’ was good too, even if he had a tendency to hit fouls. Mingyu thinks he deserves a shot.
The silence between them is starting to stretch. He hated that fact more than he hated acknowledging the person his mind has started to associate as a nemesis. No matter how unfair it is to do so.
“He is good.” Coach finally responds. The words still catch in his throat though. Mingyu finds comfort in the obvious guilt there. He really shouldn’t revel in someone else’s discomfort, but that doesn’t stop him from doing it. Doesn’t pause the satisfaction that everyone else is just as upset that he’s not out on the mound as he is.
“He’ll be a good match, I think. He was already joking around a bit with the others. Seems to have a…bright personality.”
Well okay. Mingyu was content with simply acknowledging that the boy made the team, had taken over his spot. He didn’t exactly sign up to wax poetic about him. He gives his Coach a pained look on purpose. Feels satisfied once again when his smile reeks of something disquieted.
“Right, sorry. I mean. I was just saying.” He shrugs.
This time, when the office lapses into silence, Mingyu leaves it be.
~~~
“You think Coach would fire me if I showed up to this wasted?” Mingyu mumbles, eyes catching on the soju display two fridges over. He barely cowers under Seungcheol’s warning look, the boy glaring for two point five seconds before dipping into the cooler. He comes back out with two gatorades in each hand. Mingyu catches the one tossed to him without a single falter.
“I don’t think Coach would fire you even if you punched him in the face and called him an ugly idiot.” Seungcheol throws over his shoulder. Mingyu smirks when the statement makes the young cashier at the counter turn wide-eyed and wary. She relaxes only slightly under Seungcheol’s apologetic look.
The older bumps shoulders with him on the way out, the two walking like penguins when they come across one of many ice patches. You’d think the city would be more helpful with tossing down ice melt, knowing half their population is full of broke college students. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched for someone to fall on their ass on purpose and decide to sue. Student loans are no joke.
“And anyways, I know you don’t want to be fired no matter how sulky you act.” Seungcheol starts up again. Mingyu slurps down the fruit punch drink while he tries to backtrack their conversation. His hyung’s always had a habit of picking up one Mingyu’s mentally marked as complete. Even worse when it’s ages later and Mingyu has to wrack his mind for what he’s even referring to. One of Choi Seungcheol’s many flaws, he thinks with a smirk.
“You seem pretty confident in that fact.” Mingyu teases. It sets him off-kilter when Seunghcheol responds with sincerity.
“You love the game Mingyu, you want to be a part of it no matter what role you play.”
Mingyu stays silent the rest of the walk to the fields.
~~~
“I just don’t get why I have to personally coach him.” Mingyu grumbles. His feet felt like lead the closer they’d gotten to the field. He’d thrown a full-fledged fit the night before when he’d gotten home, Coach’s instructions ringing painfully in his ears.
“I want you to help train him Mingyu. He’s good, but he isn’t you level of good. He needs some…molding.”
Mingyu’s “What is this, ‘Rocky’ ? Is he gonna get some training montage set to an 80s motivational hair band song?” joke had fallen pancake-flat. The disappointed look in Coach’s eyes still makes his belly lurch.
“Your own fault for being so good.” Seungcheol smirks. “Shouldn’t have won all those awards and gotten a shiny athletic scholarship.”
Right. The scholarship. Another one of the reasons he eventually accepted this whole deal. A tie to the sport, a loophole that allowed the university to begrudgingly agree to continue to pay eighty-five percent of his tuition. Mingyu half expected them to anyways. It wouldn’t exactly be good publicity for them if they refused.
“Whatever.” He sighs. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The best friends, so caught in one another, missed the other presence tucked into the corner of the dugout behind them. Long fingers shook as their owner listened in, earlier nervousness returning tenfold. He’d knew this was a bad idea, trying out for this spot, at this school. He’s never liked stirring the pot. And now he’s gone and made enemies with someone he’s looked up to for years. Seokmin regrets so much already.
~~~
Mingyu takes a steeling breath as he heads over. The heels of his cleats dig slightly into the soft ground, sand turned mushy under a recent winter storm. He wonders for the ten thousandth time why baseball starts in the late winter. What’s wrong with the middle of summer? Hell, even early Fall?
The crunch of his steps gives away his presence, the head of the figure a few feet away shooting up from where it was turned downward, eyes that were stuck to the mitt tugged onto his hand meeting his own. He looks nervous, Mingyu notes.
‘He should be’ the mean section of his brain grinds out. Mingyu ignores it for now.
“Lee Seokmin?” he says like a question. He’s about a foot away from him now, stops in his path to stare at the other boy. His face goes through a complicated somersault Mingyu’s too mentally exhausted to even try and parse out, before it smooths over into a grin so bright it makes his eyes hurt. Guess he sees where he earned the Sunshine Seokmin nickname, the moniker plastered all over the competing town’s papers. Mingyu still has very little a clue why the boy left his old school for theirs. He’s already made a mental note to ask.
“Yes.” the boy answers, holding out a hand as easy as breathing. Mingyu stares at it long enough for it to drop. A pang of guilt cracks into his ribs at the way the boy’s sunny expression does the same.
“Kim Mingyu.” he introduces. His eyebrows shoot into his forehead at the boy’s responding “I know.” Mingyu watches curiously as he fumbles over his words after, tan skin of his face turning a rosette pink.
“I-I just…Coach said you’re the assistant coach and you’ll be h-helping me. Um…get ready for the season?” his voice trails up and off, turning into a question at the end. Mingyu’s heart beats in sick sympathy, the kind you get when you see something especially pitiful. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face.
“Yes, that’s right.” He nods, attempts to give the boy a reassuring smile. It seems to work, if the relaxation to his tense posture is anything to go by. Mingyu searches through for something to say, now that introductions are over. Should they jump right into it?
Luckily he’s saved from decision-making by Coach.
“Mingyu!” the man shouts. The pair turn to meet the man’s eyes, his figure leaning against the dugout entrance. “Run through basic pitches with him! See how he does with each one!”
“Got it!” he yells back, shooting him a thumb’s up. He turns to Seokmin then, can see the nervousness has bubbled back into him as clear as day. Mingyu hopes he shakes it off before the season starts. No one likes a meek pitcher.
Mingyu thinks back to the times he’s coached kids in the peewee leagues over the summer. The methods he’s used to try and get them to open up, put smiles on their gap-toothed faces. There was a way that seemed to work more often than others--finding things to commiserate over. It seemed when he admitted his own shortcomings and struggles, it knocked a foot off the pedestal they all put him on and made him more human. Not that he thinks Seokmin views him like that, but its worth a shot.
“You any good at sinkers?” He asks, forcing a wry grin onto his face. “I’ve never nailed them, even after all these years.”
Seokmin blows out a breath. Mingyu knows then that he’s got him. “Dude, you struggle with those too?” Mingyu nods, tilts his head towards the pitch. “Yeah, but let me see how you do them. Maybe you can show me a different method.”
Seokmin leads the way easily. Mingyu smiles behind his back.
~~~
Being mad at someone for being talented…its a waste of good brain cells. At least that’s what Wonwoo tells him the next day, when Mingyu shows up to their bi-weekly coffee slash study sessions with a pout on his lips. He’d still been reeling from practice the day before, from the way Seokmin nailed every move, every pitch. He was even good at ones Mingyu could never quite get down after all these years. They’d ended the day with Mingyu drowning in emerald green.
“Dude, shouldn’t you be happy ?” Wonwoo tries after Mingyu’s thirtieth despondent sigh. He glares over at his friend’s words. Happy ?
“Why should I be happy that he’s good?” he grumbles out. In front of him, an essay on public infrastructure sits with a mere two sentences typed. Why he decided to take an architecture gen ed, he’ll never know.
“Uhh maybe because it means you guys will still win? You know, make it to the playoffs, the finals? The entire point of it?” Wonwoo tumbles out, judgment dripping hot and sticky off every word. Mingyu tries to not get stuck in them.
He opens and closes his mouth around half-worded responses. Wonwoo watches on, one hand picking at the empty wrapper from his muffin. Mingyu, ever the clean freak, itches to get up and throw it into the trash for him.
“I mean…do you want them to lose now? Because you’re not on the team anymore?” Wonwoo adds when he sits silent for too long. Mingyu tries to make the questions bounce off his skin like metal against rubber, the words hitting too close to his late-night insomniatic thoughts.
But if there’s one thing about Jeon Wonwoo, its that he’s too perspective for his own good.
Mingyu winces as his friend’s mouth drops open in a gape, feels himself sinking into the pleather seat while he shrinks himself smaller. Guilt gnaws a hole through his throat.
“You do don't you? Since you can’t play, you want them to lose. That’s a little fucked up, Mingyu-ah.”
“I-I know--”
“I mean, our best friends are on that team.”
“I know!” Mingyu practically wails, the speakerphone quality of it all managing to rouse the attention of tables nearby. He curls even further under their inquisitive gazes. Wonwoo shoos them all away with one singular glare.
“I know it’s fucked up.” Mingyu whispers to the sticky tabletop. “I’ve been trying to fight it off. But its hard, hyung.”
The other’s face softens in an air of sympathy. Mingyu lets it calm the frantic pulse of his heart for a moment.
“The fact that you’re trying to stop the thought shows that you’re still a good person Gyu. You’re a good person who’s hurting.” Mingyu visibly flinches at the statement. Wonwoo reaches across the table to take one of his hands in his own. The skin is warm, callouses on a couple of the fingers. He’s probably been trying to learn how to play the guitar with Soonyoung and Jihoon again. Mingyu’s lips quirk up at the observation.
“You’re hurt, and hurting.” Wonwoo repeats, “Think of how it feels.” he adds. Mingyu takes a second to do just that, lets all the months of thoughts sear more scars into his skin, poke holes into his viscera, until he feels like he could bleed out where he sits.
“See? Feel that? Now, ask yourself, do you want others to feel that too?”
When Mingyu shakes his head, Wonwoo smiles, soft and a little sad.
“Good. So, now, you’re going to keep going with this. You’re going to be the very best co-coach the team has ever had, and you’re going to be so incredibly kind to Seokmin. He already has so much burden resting on his shoulders.”
“Okay”. Mingyu whispers.
~~~
It’s easier to hold the urge to follow Wonwoo’s advice verses actually going through with it. At least, for now that is.
Mingyu had given it a really determined go the next few practices, the whole “being kind” thing. It’d worked for about two and half practices in. Those times, the bubble him and Seokmin were in was still shiny and rose-colored--the two still just enough awkward around each other to remain formally polite.
It all dropped rather quickly though, the bubble popped open with a pinprick of animosity.
Its not his fault that him and Seokmin seemed to…clash.
“Seokmin-ah, fix your stance a little. Try to put more weight on your back leg for that pitch.” Mingyu yells the instruction from his perch just to the side of the batter’s box. It feels the slightest bit personal when Seokmin’s next throw lands so closely to his face that he has to dodge out of its path.
“Yah! You trying to kill me?” Mingyu yells. Instead of the apology he’d expected to see on Seokmin’s face, he’s surprised to see a smirk there instead. Huh. He doesn’t know whether to be pleased that the boy seems less inclined to act like a scared little rabbit around him now, to be happy that he’s actually showing the personality Mingyu’s only been able to catch glimpses of these last few practices. Times like when the boy’s in the dugout joking around with the rest of the team, out on the grass tossing exaggerated throws to an excitable Soonyoung in a game of catch, laughing loud and sun-blindly bright with a normally stone-serious Jihoon. A bigger part of him wants to grumble that this sudden change seems to be at Mingyu’s expense.
Mingyu has seen the change slowly developing though, the cracks in Seokmin’s polite little facade breaking through. Each day on the diamond, in the gym, the batting cages--instead of following Mingyu’s every instruction, or becoming shy with his compliments, he’s started preening and smirking, talking back and questioning. Its a lot of things…exhausting mostly. And (though Mingyu will refuse to admit it sober) a weird form of hot .
“You told me to ‘adjust my stance’”, he mocks with finger quotes, “That was it adjusted. There was nothing wrong with the original.” he argues. Mingyu shakes his head, trudges his way to the pitcher’s mound. He frames himself when he gets closer, shows the position he wants Seokmin to hold. It gives him a twinge in his shoulder that he valiantly ignores despite the ache it rears up behind his breastbone, the sting it gives his eyes.
“Its because you didn’t follow it right. You need to tilt more to the right, not the left. If you go that way you’ll just be tossing fouls or balls. You don’t wanna give the guy a free walk to first base do you?” Seokmin rolls his eyes so severely it makes Mingyu’s hackles rise to mountain height. This. This is why he didn’t want to become some kid’s personal trainer. Mingyu hates having authority, even more so when the person involved refuses to respect it.
“Okay but I was literally throwing fine with my own stance?” Seokmin huffs out like a question. He crosses his arms against his chest, pulling the crimson uniform shirt taut against his form. Mingyu swallows a swimming pool’s worth of saliva at the sight, focuses instead on the sudden…bitchiness he’s being faced with. “I didn’t throw wrong until you tried to make me fix it.”
“You were throwing ‘fine’” Mingyu echos back, “But not great .” he emphasizes. “You were still hitting too close to the square. Any batter worth his shit would be able to get a clear hit right from you. At least a…first or second base placement.”
Seokmin sneers at him. His spot on the mound puts him slightly taller than Mingyu. Mingyu hates how much he likes the new height difference. Refuses to acknowledge the way having to look up slightly at the other makes his chest burn.
“That’s one of my easiest pitches. I would need twenty more sets of hands to count how many people i’ve gotten out with it. The coach on my old team used to make me use it for the first three innings almost consistently because of its success rate. It doesn’t need to be changed.”
Mingyu’s face turns more incredulous with each word spit from Seokmin’s mouth. He’s never seen the smiley boy so aggravated. And, it seems to be a rare sight to everyone else as well, considering the way they’ve all surreptitiously started to listen to it, eyes flitting between them and their own practices. Even Coach has started to peer over at them curiously. The attention makes Mingyu turn damp with sweat.
“Yes well. This isn’t your old team and i’m not your old coach.” Mingyu blurts, mind blanking on an appropriate response. He doesn’t know why Seokmin seems to want to fight him so badly on this, why he can’t just take his advice. Mingyu knows what he’s talking about, he’s been doing this for ages. Though, Seokmin has as well. He’d like to give the boy the benefit of the doubt here, but Mingyu’s seen too many pitchers pull the same shit he’s trying and end up benched because they keep earning the opposing team runs. He just wants him to succeed.
He opens his mouth to say as much, to gentle his tone. Even changes his stance to one less imposing, dropping his hands from his chest to his sides. Seokmin cuts him off before he gets even one more word out.
“You’re right. You’re not my old coach. You’re not a coach at all, actually. Just a washed-up baseball player the team was too nice to get rid of, so they made you the little assistant.”
The words blanket the entire field in an oppressive hush. Mingyu’s pretty sure he actually hears a few gasps. Its astounding really, how a few meager words can change so much.
Mingyu’s eyebrows practically merge with his hairline. He huffs out a disbelieving laugh, crosses his arms back onto his chest. Seokmin’s confidence slowly crumbles, the reality of the situation and the accompanying anxiety of it clearly taking him over. He looks at Mingyu warily. Mingyu wonders if he regrets it. At this point, he couldn’t care less if he does.
“Oh?” he starts with, nods his head a few times. “That’s how its going to be huh?” he laughs again to himself. “Well Seokmin-ah, at the end of the day it doesn’t mean a rat’s ass what you think of me. I’m still marked as co-coach, and the actual coach expects you to listen to me at least a little . Whether or not you actually do is on you.” he finishes it all with a shrug.
Seokmin opens and closes his mouth around a response. Whatever he was planning to say gets cut off by Coach himself, the man calling out the end of practice. Mingyu doesn’t even bother with a goodbye, simply turns and heads toward the dugout for a quick team huddle. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him during it, the concerned looks thrown his way. He keeps his gaze plastered to the cement, listens half-heartedly to Coach’s droning voice. Thankfully its all kept short, and Mingyu’s the first one out of there when he wraps it up.
He feels a hand on his shoulder as he heads back toward the gym that houses their locker room, has a quick hysterical thought that maybe it belongs to Seokmin. Seungcheol’s pinched face is what greets him instead. Mingyu sighs at him and shakes the touch off.
“Hyung just…I want to go home and sleep.” Seungcheol thankfully snaps his mouth shut. Its a seemingly innocuous phrase, but its one Mingyu’s been using as a sort of code-word since the accident. Its a shortened, benign way of saying “i’m too mentally exhausted to talk right now, please leave me be”. It’s a way for his hyung, ever the pusher when it comes to conversation, to know when to stop, lest Mingyu crumble.
So, stop he does. Mingyu walks on with his friend silent beside him. At some point Soonyoung and Jihoon join them. Seungcheol repeats Mingyu’s earlier words before any of them say anything. It snaps them silent as well, the pair flanking Mingyu’s other side like pillars, supporting him without words. Mingyu lets his gratitude salve over the most tender parts of him.
A few feet behind them, a guilt-faced Seokmin watches on, throat constricting around a ball of regret.
~~~
“You said that to him?!” Seokmin frantically tries to shush his friend, slowly shrinking under the newly inquiring gazes shot their way in the cramped campus cafe. Minghao only repeats himself, this time pointedly louder. Seokmin tries to kick at him under the table, winces when he gets the table leg instead of his friend’s shin.
“He was being controlling and it was pissing me off.” Seokmin grumbles. He ignores the pang in his chest at lying to his friend. Yeah, Mingyu pissing all over one of his most trusty pitches was a pain in the ass, but it wasn’t the only source of his anger.
Instead of fixating on the guilt, Seokmin takes a quick glance around instead. He lets go a short sigh of relief when it seems everyone has gone back to their own conversations. His skin is still a hot pink though. He rubs at his cheeks and mentally tries to will the flush away.
Minghao serves as a good distraction from the embarrassment, the boy gaping at him across the table. “Seok, we talked about this--”
Seokmin slices a hand through the space between them to cut him off. “Yeah okay I know. ‘Be nice to the pitcher training you, he got into a tragic accident can’t play anymore blah blah’. I know. But the dude’s a dick. I don’t care how horrible his backstory is, if he wants to play antagonist i’m gonna treat him like one.”
“God we get it you’re a literature major.” Minghao grouches with a smirk. Seokmin balls his napkin up and throws it at him, cheering when it hits him squarely in the nose.
“Maybe if you pitched like that he’d stop being on your ass.” He teases. Seokmin gasps, loud and faux put-out, gives the other boy a half-hearted glare.
“Okay first of all--”
Minghao’s the one that cuts him off this time, holding a hand up. His expression is suddenly serious; serious enough for Seokmin to turn quiet. He finds himself leaning in toward the table, breath caught in his throat alongside anticipation. He’s known Minghao long enough to know he’s about to be given advice that’s going to both shatter him then put him back together again right after.
“Seok, you’ve always had so much pride. And it’s not a bad thing, to have it. You should be proud of yourself, your talent is insane and worthy of praise. But even the best of the best can get better, especially when they take the advice of other talented people. The guy’s only trying to do his job. I doubt he even wants that position. Pretty sure he’d much prefer to be in your role instead.” The guilt from yesterday returns at his friend’s words. Seokmin had been trying to tamper it for hours, had laid awake in his bed until sunrise replaying the entire exchange. The hurt on Mingyu’s face was raw, his paper mache disguise of incredulity was too thin to hide the aching flesh underneath. Seokmin wishes he could reverse time just to prevent his idiot self from the entire thing.
The worst part of it was that it was all on him. Mingyu had been his usual kind-but-still-stern self with him, offering advice and giving praise freely. It was only their third practice together, but he’d already started warming up to Seokmin. He’d began joking around with him a little, had shed the “coach” persona and replaced it with something similar to a teammate. He’d still held authority in his words but they were more rounded, less formal. Leave it to Seokmin to ruin it.
It’d all started at the beginning of practice. Coach had given everyone printouts of the season’s schedule, the schools they’d be up against and whether they’d take place at home or away. Seokmin had steeled himself before looking at it. He’d had a feeling for what was coming. Their university was on the same level as his old one—Seokmin’s record with them last season had catapulted them from second to first seed—it was common sense for them to play against each other this year. Seeing it put in words though…was something else. Anger and anxiety fought a battle in his gut, a shaking fingertip running over the name of his old school, seemingly blaring at him from the flimsy page. The thought of seeing them all again, seeing him again? Seokmin would sooner rather get taken out by a comet, struck by lightning, eaten by a tiger.
He’d let the feelings carry over into practice, rookie mistake 101. He was usually good at preventing that, from losing focus of the game. But when it comes to him …Seokmin struggles more to separate personal life from the baseball. How could he when they were already so intertwined?
Seokmin had started practice with nerves already frayed. Something about Mingyu critiquing him had only rubbed at their loose edges and knotted them up until his entire body was taut and pained with hurt and anger. Something as simple as one of his best pitches being torn apart by the man was enough to unlatch the box he was burying everything into, the force of everything stuffed inside making it break open. His friends, his family, have all said his one and only bad quality was the way he left things to bottle up until bursting. Seokmin can really see it now.
And thus he’s left to deal with the consequences of his own actions.
He can only hope Mingyu isn’t the type to hold grudges.
~~~
Seokmin’s hope is shattered when he shows up to their next practice two days later and Mingyu doesn’t even spare him a greeting. Instead, he grunts out a “We’re doing batting drills today. You’re pitching.” Seokmin tried to tamp down on his disappointment. The fact that he wouldn’t even be getting any one-on-one time with the boy today sat heavy in his core. He’d planned to apologize, had the words rehearsed in his head (and once to his empty dorm--or, at least he’d thought it was empty, until he heard Minghao’s slow clap and “Wow, that’s really good Seok-ah, definitely say all that”).
Seokmin listened obediently though, helped throw pitches to the rest of his teammates while they practiced hits. At one point Seungcheol stepped into his place so Seokmin could get his own batting practice in. It was a short yet monotonous practice. Seokmin found his gaze glancing toward their co-coach enough that he was chastised for it by their main one.
“Seokmin-ssi, as far as I know, Mingyu-ah isn’t doing play signals today. Stay focused, son!”
Seokmin had pitched the next three batters with cheeks as blaringly red as traffic lights.
He’d even tried to catch the co-coach once practice was wrapped--rushing to pack up his things, nearly sprinting out of the dugout--but it was all in vain. The man had already made it meters ahead of him on the path back to the gym, had already had his little posse of players surrounding him. And, it’s not like Soonyoung and Jihoon were mean to him per se. They were actually more than friendly with him before the last practice. Now though, they were very obviously cold towards him, smiles strained and words terse enough that Seokmin caught on to the not-so-subtle hints pretty quickly. He can’t exactly blame them for their icy shoulders.
Heart aching, Seokmin trailed behind the group the entire way back to the locker room.
He tried to find solace under the shower’s lukewarm water.
~~~
“Dude, if you shake any more you’re going to rattle Bessie right off her axels.”
“I can’t fuckin’ believe you named your car.”
“I can believe it.”
“Eat my ass, Jihoon-ah.”
An exaggerated gag filled the stuffy car cabin then. Mingyu let a grin break through his anxious frown for a brief moment. He glanced at Seungcheol then, the boy’s eyes glued to the road while his hands gripped the wheel at ten and two. He did always drive like a soccer mom, Mingyu observes with a snort. The sound pulls a look from the boy himself, an eyebrow raised. Mingyu shakes it away with his head.
Which, coincidentally, isn’t the only thing shaking at the moment.
“Gyu--stop with the leg!” Seungcheol starts again. Its loud enough to rouse Soonyoung from his cat nap with a cut-off snore. Jihoon laughs at the way he springs up, a slurred “Whas’ goin on?” leaving his lips. He apparently sees nothing of interest, head falling back to the side while his eyes slide shut. It lands him directly onto Jihoon’s shoulder this time. Mingyu smirks quietly to himself at the way the boy doesn’t make any move to shake him off.
“What do you want from me Cheol?” He whines at his friend, shoving a hand to his knee to try and stop his own anxious habit. “You know I do this when i’m nervous!”
“Yah why are you so nervous? Its a preseason game for fucks sake?!”
Mingyu huffs at him, the pair in the back (barre Soonyoung) grumbling along with him. Seungcheol raises one hand quickly off the wheel in surrender. “Fine, fine. I know it sets the tone for the rest of the season, but is it really worth getting so worked up over? We can completely bomb this game and still make it to playoffs.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Jihoon agrees from the backseat. Him and Cheol share a look in the rearview mirror, shuddering to themselves at the memory of the season they shared for the first time two years ago. Mingyu had been in high school at the time, but he remembers being dragged to the games by his excited little sister--the then middle schooler holding a disgusting little puppy dog crush on his best friend--much to Cheol’s amusement and Mingyu’s suffering. Seungcheol was in his second year, Jihoon in his first. The team was definitely terrible then, Mingyu remembers. They barely won any games. Still, he doesn’t think it warrants their dramatics. Mingyu rolls his eyes at both of them.
“Gyu-ie’s just worried his new prodigy’s gonna suck and embarrass him.” Soonyoung teases from the backseat. Jihoon gapes at him, shoving him off his shoulder with a “Fucker! Knew you weren’t actually asleep!”
Mingyu shrinks into the worn leather seat with red cheeks, pointedly ignoring their snickers. “I am not!” he attempts to defend. The rest only laugh at him. He sighs, knows the fight is useless anyways. They’re right after all. Though he’d sooner put his dick in a hotdog slicer than admit it.
Of course he’s nervous. Seokmin is the amalgamation of him, isn’t he? Yeah, he knows the boy is full of his own talents, but he’s been training one-on-one with him . If he fucks up, its only going to make Mingyu look like a terrible coach.
Though, with the whole fiasco from last week, he supposes he could blame the boy’s shortcomings on his own stubbornness.
Yeah, he’ll go with that.
~~~
They lose. Not badly, but they still lose. The ride home is full of pained quiet, the return to the locker room even more so. Mingyu doesn’t even look anyone in the eye once.
He doesn’t know what he’s more of: pissed off or disappointed. Most probably he’s a little bit of both.
The game had been a cat and mouse chase the entire time. Whenever they’d come out ahead, the opposing team would obliterate them in the next inning. Mingyu had bit holes into his cheeks and inches off his nails whenever the other team was up to bat. Seokmin had thrown a myriad of different pitches, yeah. But he’d also kept pitching the one pitch Mingyu had tried to correct last week before the boy had essentially told him to fuck off. It’d infuriated him. It’d exhausted him. When the game was finished, Seungcheol had made it his personal mission to corral Mingyu back to his car and away from Seokmin’s.
His boiling point was reached. It took very little to bubble him over.
Most of the team had left when it happened. Only a few stragglers remained, second stringers who were chattering away in the corner. Mingyu ignored them and everyone else in favor of going through his play notes. He’d planned to meet Coach in his office in a few, review what had gone wrong and right. A tap on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.
He’d turned to find a shamefaced Seokmin, the boy swaying anxiously from foot to foot. Mingyu had merely raised a brow. The lack of words clearly set the other even more on edge, until he’d blurted. “Well? Aren’t you going to tell me ‘I told you so?’”.
Mingyu crossed him arms defensively, clipboard digging into his chest. He’d be a liar to say he hasn’t seen the guilt painted on the boy’s face since that day, hadn’t seen the way he kept trying to catch him after practices, most likely wanting to apologize. Maybe Mingyu was a little petty. Maybe he wanted to hold a grudge for once. It’d been working so far. Course now he’s being blasted with puppy dog eyes and pretty pouted lips. Mingyu’s never been very strong when it comes to cute things. And if there’s one thing Lee Seokmin is, its annoyingly cute.
Still, Mingyu decides to have a little fun dragging this whole thing out.
“Good coaches don’t use ‘I told you so’” he starts with. Then, he smirks. “Though, I guess you don’t see me as a coach so I suppose I could say it.”
Seokmin’s gaze turns to the grey linoleum beneath their feet. Mingyu fights down the urge to coo at him. He waits instead, curious as to what the other could say. Will the bitchy Seokmin return?
“Mingyu-ssi i’m sorry.” Well, that answers that.
The boy’s face is filled with guilt so genuine it locks Mingyu in his tracks and erases any smarmy rebuttal from his tongue. Mingyu tries for a response, gets cut off by a rollercoaster of word vomit.
“I-I was having a shitty day and I took it out on you and it was unfair. I didn’t mean it, I do see you as a coach and as a mentor. I-I’ve always looked up to you, you know? I used to see you in all the papers, the awards you’d won and how you always brought your teams to the championships, even when we were younger. It’d made me work harder, cos I…I wanted to be good. Like you.”
Mingyu’s gaping. He knows he’s gaping. Even worse, his face is throbbing with a crimson flush. Seokmin definitely catches it too, the boy’s own eyes widening at the sight of it.
“Uh…thank you?” Mingyu says hollowly. It only seems to set the other boy off even more, words flying frantically from his lips.
“Oh god that was so lame, i’m so sorry! God you’re probably so weirded out right now. We’re the same age but I basically admitted you’re like a hero to me and it’s weird, so weird! I’ll--I’ll ask Coach to train me instead so you don’t have to be around me--”
“Oh my god Seokmin-ah stop.” Mingyu groans. Seokmin listens, words cutting off with a short whine. Mingyu has the hysterical desire to pull him to his chest, hug him until he stops looking so frazzled.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel…that way.” he tries. Noticing how vague he sounds, he adds, “I don’t think its weird. It’s just surprising. And…humbling. I’m really touched, I swear. I just get awkward when it comes to praise. Plus, I have a little bit of whiplash. I was pretty sure you hated me for a little bit there.” He finishes with a wry grin, intending to turn everything around with a joke. Unfortunately, it seems to make Seokmin even worse, the boy gaping while he throws his hands in the air.
“No, no! I don’t hate you! I could never hate you. Complete opposite .” His words appear to catch up to him then, the implication behind them. Mingyu watches on in amusement as he turns fire-engine red. It all gives him a sense of deja vu, the memory of their first meeting popping into his mind.
“I-I mean--” he stutters again. Mingyu groans internally. He’s gotta cut him off, prevent him from digging himself into an even deeper hole.
“Listen--” he tries, Seokmin’s mouth audibly snapping shut. “How about we start over?” Seokmin nods so many times Mingyu wonders if his head’s spinning with the feeling of it. “I accept and appreciate your apology. I’ll admit what you said hurt” here, Seokmin’s face drops so dramatically Mingyu scrambles to fix it.
“But! Knowing they weren’t genuine makes it better…We’ve all said bad things we didn’t mean before right?” he shrugs. “So, let’s move on. I know I can be a little overbearing at times” its touching, the way Seokmin frantically shakes his head no. “But i’ll try to be more amenable. You’re very talented, Seokmin-ah. I’m more than happy to listen to your input if you listen to mine. Okay?”
“Okay.” Seokmin agrees easily enough. He gives Mingyu a tentative grin, tiny but no less sunny. Its like dawn’s risen in the dim light of their locker room. His heart gives a heavy thump at the sight of it. He’s helpless but to return one of his own.
“So…i’ll see you tomorrow at practice?”
“Yes, definitely.”
~~~
“Like this?” Seokmin mumbles the question with an air of unsurety, so soft it’s nearly muffled out by the loud bustle of activity around them. Luckily, Mingyu’s standing just close enough to hear it, gives a nod before realizing Seokmin’s got his eyes focused on his feet.
“Yeah, maybe a little more pressure on your back foot. Good.” He throws the short praise in absentmindedly, smirks internally to himself when it makes Seokmin’s cheeks flush over. The reaction isn’t anything new--the boy’s always flustered under any compliments from the taller, even during their short spat--but it never grows old. Mingyu finds it amusing (among a million other things he wouldn’t dare to voice…at least not yet anyways).
“I feel like I look like a peacock or something.”
Mingyu snorts into the type of laughter that makes your stomach cramp. “A peacock?!” Seokmin falls out of the position with his own giggles, straightens up to turn a self-conscious look up at him.
“Yeah? Maybe that’s the wrong bird…” he trails off, rubs at his chin while he thinks. He seems to come up with nothing though, throwing his hands up with an exasperated huff. “I don’t know! Some kind of bird…like i’m about to peck someone with my beak or something.”
Mingyu merely shakes his head. “I really have no idea how that brain of yours works.” His head gets tossed back with a laugh at Seokmin’s fake-gasp and “How dare--rude!”
The rest of practice passes similarly, the pair a mix-mash of serious advice, teasing bickers, and laughter. Mingyu doesn’t think he’s ever had so much fun at a baseball practice since he was maybe five years old. Something about him and Seokmin just…clicks. And its not even being same-age friends. It’s something different. In a few weeks he’ll get drunk with Cheol, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and say (slur) that it’s because they’re soulmates, destined to meet up and get together. He’ll forget the entire memory of it, until the next morning when his snickering friends show him the slightly blurry video Soonyoung captured. Mingyu will blackmail him into deleting it.
But for now he’s content with not knowing the reason. Will just shrug it off, attribute it to having similar senses of humor and personalities. And he will steadfastly ignore the way half the reason is because his heart goes all goo-goo ga-ga around the other man. He absolutely will not open that can of worms.
For now, that is.
~~~
“So.”
“Oh god.”
“I literally said one word. One. And you’re already bitching?”
Mingyu rolls his eyes while Soonyoung and Jihoon snicker at them across the table. They’d crowded into a KBBQ place after they all ended classes for the day. It was a way to “celebrate getting through this absolute ass of a week”, as Jihoon had so eloquently put it. Mingyu thought he was being a little hyperbolic, though he values his life at least fifty percent so he’d never dare say so out loud. He supposes he can see the difficulty of it, next week was opening day--the first game of the season--and Coach had been working them to the bone. Or, at least the players. Mingyu on the other hand had merely been on standby, directing drills and helping hone Seokmin’s skills. He’d never picked up a single bat. The one time he tried, Coach had benched him for the rest of practice. Everyone had teased him for being in “time out”, all alone in the musty dugout. He refused to deign any of them with a response.
“I’ve known you since we were shitting in diapers.” Mingyu starts.
“Disgusting imagery”. Jihoon grouches, flipping the meat with a pinched look on his face.
“I know exactly what that kind of ‘so’ means.” He finishes, smirking when Seungcheol slumps in concession. He knows Mingyu’s right. They’re basically telepathic at this point. That type of tone means he’s about to say some shit that’s going to make Mingyu want to do one of a few things: throw up on him, throw something at him, or throw himself into direct traffic. He doesn’t know if he has the energy to deal with any one of them right now.
“I was just going to say how nice it is that you and Seokmin-ah seem to be getting along.” he says in the exact hedging sort of voice a suburban mother would use when “covertly” asking about their soon-to-be black sheep son’s activities. (Its so nice Jimmy decided to dye his hair red right? Do you think you’d ever do something so…creative?). Mingyu puts off his response with a big, very big, swig of soju.
“‘Getting along’ is one way to call it I guess.” Jihoon smirks. It pulls a sparkle-eyed delight of a look from the others, Seungcheol’s shoulders starting to shake. “What would you call it then, Jihoon-ah?”. Seungcheol asks overly-sweet. Mingyu winces into his glass and waits.
“Oh you know…like watching the National Geographic channel. What do they call it when the dumb male birds try and woo the females?”
“A mating dance?” Soonyoung gasps.
Jihoon snaps his fingers, gives the beaming boy a high five. “Good job Youngie’! A mating dance …exactly!” Soonyoung preens under the praise (and the pet name that only comes out when Jihoon’s a few drinks in) while the rest of the table’s occupants double over in laughter. Mingyu sighs to himself, starts divvying out meat from the grill the rest have so kindly forgotten about in their jest.
“I hate you all. I’m getting new friends. Replacing every single one of you.”
“Aw Mingyu-ie don’t be like that.” Soonyoung fake-pouts at the exact time Jihoon teases, “Ask Seokmin then. I’m sure he’d love to be the first replacement.” He bumps shoulders with a cackling Seungcheol. Mingyu sinks further into his seat and stuffs a bite of samgyeopsal into his mouth as a dam to hold back the mess of his thoughts.
~~~
Mingyu didn’t realize at first, how he’d never seen Seokmin outside of practice. It takes running into him at the local grocery store at almost-midnight for it to dawn on him.
The entire ordeal is far more embarrassing than he’d ever like. For one, Mingyu had been smack dab in the middle of a tear-induced, exam-study-sesh breakdown when he decided his sanity needed a reprieve. He’d thrown on his padded black jacket, color clashing horribly with his bright purple sweats. They had a rip in the left knee, a ramyun stain to the right, and were threadbare enough to turn his figure almost rectangular with their looseness. On his feet was a truly heinous pair of pink fuzzy socks shoved into gray Crocs. He completed it all with a backwards baseball cap tucked under the sweatshirt’s hood to really drive home the “disheveled college student with one grain of mental wellbeing left” look.
Beyond the outfit, everything is made worse by the way they meet. As in, Mingyu NFL-linebackers his way into an unsuspecting Seokmin accidentally, turning away from the ice cream fridge with a tub of cookie dough Baskin Robbins in one hand. It gets slammed somewhere between Seokmin’s spleen and belly button during their collision. Mingyu hopes it doesn’t leave a weird, ice cream pint shaped bruise.
“Oh god i’m so sorry!” He gasps out, hand flying forward to right Seokmin before he tumbles to the ground from their inertia. The boy’s sputtering out his own apologies, too worked up to notice the earthquake he’s causing in the emotional cortex of Mingyu’s brain.
Lee Seokmin out on the field is one thing. A mighty beast of pure strength and athleticism all wrapped up in a pretty tan package. Seokmin outside of it though? Entirely, heart-achingly different. Though the handsomeness is still the same. Or, at least somewhat. What he is means is, the shock value of his facial genetics is even worse .
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seokmin whines as Mingyu gapes dumbly over at him. His skin’s turned pink with self-consciousness, the boy turning to try and make out his reflection in the fogged frozen section glass. Mingyu snaps out of it with a head shake, ignores his own burning cheeks in favor of stuttering out a “N-nothing. I just realized…i’ve never seen you outside of practice.”
“Do I look that different?” Seokmin pouts, seemingly misunderstanding Mingyu’s words and reaction. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful for that or not. “Is it the glasses?” Seokmin adds, adjusting said black-rimmed spectacles with lithe fingers Mingyu’s never truly noticed before, too focused on the way the boy’s mitted hand is tossing out pitches to really take in their beauty. God he sounds like a rom-com script right now. He curses his own thoughts.
And the glasses…don’t even get him started on those. He didn’t even know Seokmin wore glasses. He looks ridiculously cute in them.
“I usually wear contacts but I’ve been studying and my eyes were starting to burn.” Mingyu startles, wondering for a second if he accidentally blurted his thoughts out loud. Seokmin isn’t acting like he usually does when he compliments him though, nor has he started a sprint towards the closest police station, so Mingyu figures he’s merely continuing his earlier stream of consciousness. At least he hopes so anyways.
“That’s nute.” Mingyu stumbles, yearning for a solid dose of spontaneous combustion immediately after. He’d meant to say “That’s nice.” yet his mind was on a loop of ‘cute cute cute cute cute’ and now here he is. Nute. Said as “noot”. Is he a good enough actor to fake passing out? He could use that to excuse it all right? Of course he was being a human disaster, his body was ill…something like that.
“Noot?” Seokmin (rightfully) questions, effectively cutting off Mingyu’s increasingly harried mental plans.
“I uh…nice? That’s nice.” he tries, hoping against hope that Seokmin will merely drop it.
“Yeah…anyways!” he says with a clap of his hands. Mingyu’s asscheeks finally release from their anxious tense clench, heartbeat slowly returning to normal. That is, until the rest of the situation comes back to him.
Seokmin seems to be searching for something to say, eyes flitting every which way behind their frames. Mingyu watches on warily, mind flicking through the different ways he could surreptitiously put an end to this impromptu meeting--fake his own death, running in the other direction while shouting he needs the bathroom, simply walking away without another word and feigning stress-induced amnesia at their next practice--when Seokmin’s gaze zeroes in on something. Something in particular. Mingyu can already tell what it is and steels himself.
“Girls’ Generation huh?” Seokmin says around a pearly white grin. He’s eyeing the peeling logo on the thigh of Mingyu’s tattered purple sweats with something that’s hopefully more pleased amusement and less ‘oh god he’s a dork I’ll never ever entertain the idea of dating him’. Either option makes Mingyu break out into a cold sweat, makes him blurt a haphazard “They’re my sister’s.”.
Ah yes. His sister. The five foot and three quarters fifteen year old back in Anyang. Yes. Definitely hers. Mental note: never allow Seokmin to meet his family.
Seokmin makes a little hum of acknowledgement, nods his head. It causes his hair to bop around a little on his head, dark strands slightly fluffy with a bit of a curl. It must be his natural hair, Mingyu figures. All the times he’s seen him it’s been laid flat and straight across his forehead or split neat and clean down the middle. He wishes he could tell him how cute it is without coming across crazy (and love-struck).
“Ah I see.” he nods, “Well, tell her she has really good music taste.” His eyes almost seem to have a gleam to them, Mingyu notes. “They’re one of my favorite groups.” he adds.
Inside his head, Mingyu curses himself with the wrath of an old-wordly god.
~~~
After the awkward midnight convenience store meeting that Seokmin had thankfully not brought up at the following practice, it seems something was unlocked in the universe.
Because Mingyu keeps seeing Seokmin. Everywhere.
The next run-in is at the campus cafe, Mingyu dashing in for a quick to-go coffee before a library study sesh. He’s just finished ordering Soonyoung’s ridiculously complex frappucino he loves to get, is heading to the waiting area by the counter, when he hears someone say his name behind him.
He twirls in place quick enough for his back to give a grossly audible crack. The sympathetic wince on Seokmin’s face makes him want to melt into the floorboards and out of existence.
“I promise i’m not an eighty-five year old man.” He stutters out. Seokmin turns wide, confused eyes on him.
“I mean, i’d hope not.” is what he gets in return. Mingyu’s about to try and salvage the situation when his name is called for his order.
Or, at least it’s supposed to be his name. The cashier must have heard him wrong. Either that or she has a personal vendetta against him. It could very well be the latter, he was somewhat of a…slut all throughout the last school year. Until well…well he was a slut basically. So much so his name in their groupchat was “MingWhore” for a solid eight months. Now that he takes a look at the girl behind the counter, she does look vaguely familiar.
“Order for Mingoose!” She shouts. Mingyu blanches before turning a ferocious, ungodly shade of red. He gives a timid jog to the counter and grabs the cardboard drink tray with crunched in shoulders.
He swears he hears a very distinct, very familiar snicker behind him all the while. His suspicions are only confirmed when a quick glance back shows shaking shoulders and a heart-shaped grin.
Mingyu’s vows to never return to this coffee shop ever again.
~~~
After the coffee shop meet-up comes a few more, thankfully benign ones. An across-campus wave at each other in passing, a smile when they seemingly end up at the same restaurant for lunch, a short small talk conversation in the checkout line of the campus library. For a little while there Mingyu lets his guard down, figures hey, maybe the universe isn’t out to get him after all. Maybe he can eventually woo the other boy successfully and stop looking like an idiot in front of him. The thought brings him some semblance of peace. Mingyu can only begin to imagine the way Seokmin describes him to his friends. The way he sees it is there’s only two options: the co-coach that jokes around with him at practice--an acquaintance sort of position--or the fumbling idiot friend that also happens to be his baseball co-coach and is a human disaster--less formal and more favorable position, but still a terrible one to be in.
Their next meetup manages to shatter all calm within their strange push and pull, and is single handedly the worst one out of them all.
It starts on a Friday night in his dorm laundry room. Is Mingyu a loser for spending a Friday at university washing his underpants? Probably. Does he care? No. At least that’s what he tells himself when he has the entire span of fabric-softener scented space to himself.
And its not like he couldn’t have done something more exciting, Soonyoung had practically begged him to go to the club with him and the others. But Mingyu just didn’t feel like it. He needed a mental health day or something, a night to himself to just catch up on the shit he’s been putting off because of classes and practices. So far he’s cleaned his dorm, bought some groceries, did a face mask, and now he’s finally tackling the pile of laundry that was nearly half his height he’s been carefully ignoring the existence of for the past three weeks.
Plus, he couldn’t have put it off any further even if he wanted to. The only clean pants he was left with were the pajama bottoms with the rip clean down the ass (don’t ask), his leather clubbing “slut pants”--coined by Jihoon this time, or the suit pants he hasn’t worn since Prom two years and one whole growth spurt ago.
Which is why he’s sitting on one of the unmanned washing machines in a ratty black tee shirt with a fading Mickey Mouse logo--three sizes too small and definitely actually his sisters’ this time--and a pair of boxers covered in ducks of all things.
And of course, since the universe has had it out for him the day his mother had the audacity to bring him into the world as an Aries, that’s the exact position Seokmin finds him in when he walks unexpectedly into the room with a white laundry basket nestled in his arms.
The pile of clothes within is so high Seokmin can’t have possibly seen him yet, nor seen the way he absolutely panics at the sight of him. Mingyu has a half second to try and formulate a plan before the boy drops the basket and spots him. Unfortunately, the only possibilities available are climbing out of the slim windows feet above the ground and look like a mad man, or try and shove past where Seokmin stands in the entrance and hope he’s quiet enough the other boy doesn’t sense him. Though with how thin the doorway is, and how tall and wide Mingyu is, the likelihood of that working is as slim as the exit.
At the end, he has no time to put forth any set plan, because Seokmin drops the basket only a moment later, spots Mingyu, and screams .
The sound is startling enough to make Mingyu scream too. Which only makes Seokmin scream again. It’s a chaotic scene. Mingyu only hopes the people in the dorms above them are out for the night, lest they do something terrible like call an ambulance for the presumed murder currently happening in the basement.
“O-oh god i’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Seokmin cries. He’s wringing his hands together anxiously, eyes flittering about the room without ever really settling on a target. He’s in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a loose grey teeshirt, devastating bunny slippers on his feet. The fluffy hair and glasses are back. Mingyu thinks his heart has gone into some sort of lethal rhythm, the kind that makes people get shocked on medical television dramas.
“ I didn’t mean to scare you !” Mingyu manages to answer back. “Are you okay?” Seokmin turns shy under the question, tips of his ears pink while he nods. He shuffles towards one of the washers, goes through the motions of throwing his clothes in. Mingyu grins to himself as he watches him meticulously separate the darks from the lights. Mingyu’s mother had taught him the same, but he’s always been too lazy to follow in her footsteps. Its endearing somehow that Seokmin actually does.
A few minutes of silence stretch between them as Seokmin works. The sound of Mingyu’s own washer rattling a few feet away the only thing to fill the dingy, slightly cold space of the laundry room nestled in the dorm basement. The chilled dampness of it starts to get to him then, makes goosebumps pop up over his arms. It isn’t until that moment that he remembers what exactly he’s wearing. It’s when his blush is at its peak that Seokmin finally finishes, making his way over to him. He raises an eyebrow at him in inquiry, shrugs to himself when Mingyu stays silent. How would he even begin to explain himself anyways? ‘Sorry, I forgot i’m nearly naked in front of you right now’? Yeah, he doesn't think that would fly.
Seokmin eases himself up on the machine next to him with a quiet “oof”. He starts swinging his feet when he settles down. Mingyu mirrors him with a small giggle, Seokmin answering the sound with a snort. They slowly get into an unspoken contest of who can kick their feet the hardest, until Seokmin goes hard enough to recoil one of his heels onto the hard front of the washer. He hisses in pain, Mingyu fretting over him for a second before he’s waved off. Its only a moment until they snort themselves into twin laughs over it.
Its when they’ve calmed and the silence’s returned that Seokmin manages to fluster Mingyu yet again.
“I like your ducks.” Seokmin gestures vaguely to his boxers, before realizing where exactly he’s essentially emphasizing, snatching his hand back to his body with a garnet tinge to his cheeks.
Mingyu’s caught between pity for him and for himself. The latter is winning out by a landslide. He wishes now more than ever that he’d gone to the club with Soonyoung.
As if he has some sort of Beetlejuice sixth sense, Mingyu’s phone lights up where it rests between them on the washers. It serves as the perfect distraction against Seokmin’s likely well-meaning compliment. Though it becomes clear its more of a detriment than a help as more texts roll through on his screen. Soonyoung’s always had a terrible multi-texter habit that’s only amplified when he’s drunk. Mingyu’s in the middle of rolling his eyes when they catch on what exactly his hyung’s saying.
TigerHyung
Mingoo uu shouldve cmoe 2nite
Theres a guy herre tht loookss almst exatcly lik Seokmin
Hoonie sasys he doesntnt but he tottaly dooess
U 2 couldve *eggplant emoji* *eggplant emoji* *wink emoji* *sweat emoji* *tongue emoji*
And of course Mingyu had his phone on vibrate, something that wouldn’t be an issue in any other circumstance. But since it’s resting against metal, the sound is amplified with each text, enough to draw the attention of the other room’s occupant. Which means Seokmin has a front-row view of the texts.
Mingyu scrambles for the device with wide eyes and sweaty palms, scooping it up and switching it completely to silent. He sits, frozen in place, while his mind reels. How the fuck can he even begin to fix this? There’s no way Seokmin didn’t see the screen. Maybe he’s polite enough to have not read them? But his name is right there in fucking LED technicolor, any normal human being would’ve been curious and looked for what followed after it.
“I uh, I just remembered I have uh…an assignment due Sunday. A big paper you know? I’m gonna head back, I haven’t even started it yet.” Mingyu rushes out, scrambling from the room before Seokmin can even open his mouth to respond.
Mingyu’s going to strangle Soonyoung.
~~~
“Boohoo Kim Mingyu is hot. You’re not the first person to suffer from that knowledge Seok, and you’re not going to be the last.”
“Can’t you at least try to be sympathetic?”
“There, there.” Despite how half-hearted it is, Seokmin still leans into the pats Minghao presses to his back.
They’re shoved together on Minghao’s tiny dorm bed despite Seokmin’s being empty and free only a few feet away. Minghao’s like a magnet and Seokmin’s a big hunk of metal--they draw together no matter the situation. At least neither of them mind. Or, they usually don’t. Right now Seokmin’s about to huffily stomp away back to his side of the room with the way Minghao’s treating him for whining about how hot the co-coach is.
“You should really stop referring to him like that you know.” Minghao chastises, breaking his thoughts. “The guy’s literally our age.”
“Were you not the one who lectured me on respecting his authority and shit?”
“Yes when you guys are practicing and playing sure. But outside of that he’s literally just a guy. A same-aged guy. I know you have a thing for doms but--”
“I do not--”
“Keep telling yourself that. Or should I remind you of the time we --”
“Anyways! You didn’t even let me tell you about the texts. You shut me down after I talked--”
“--whined.”
“ Talked about how good he looked in just a tee and some boxers.” Seokmin huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest, sticks his lip out in a pout severe enough to make even the great Xu Minghao crack. He throws his hands up, slumps back against the wall. Its covered in a white tapestry that he’d gotten drunk and fingerpainted all over. Its a rainbow of blotchy paint smears. Somewhere on the upper corner in a sloppily-drawn dick. Its an eyesore and a horrid fire hazard that he has to hide every time the RAs do their monthly room checks. Seokmin’s kind of in love with it.
“Okay, first of all, you ‘didn’t talk about how good he looked’. You waxed poetic for fifteen minutes and meticulously counted off how many ab ridges he has.” Seokmin chooses to not dispute his friend’s inaccurate (not) accusation, merely gives him another pout that makes the shorter man sigh.
“So these texts?”
Seokmin excitedly launches into a retelling of the night in the laundry room, complete with hand gestures and a couple squeals--again, over how capital G Good Mingyu looked that night. At the end of it even Minghao looks intrigued, the boy’s face scrunched in his ‘thinking expression’.
“What’s with the face? What do you think it means?” Seokmin asks anxiously. The feeling only grows when Minghao suddenly smirks.
“It means, my dear Seokmin-ah, that Kim Mingyu wants to bang.”
“Bang?”
“Mhm. Bang you.”
Seokmin gapes at his friend, furiously shakes his head. “Absolutely not! There’s no way. Why would he--”
“You finish that sentence and i’ll burn the Ralph Lauren robe I bought you.”
“Not my thirst trap robe!”
“I even have a lighter. Look.” he proclaims after digging through his bedside drawer. To Seokmin’s horror he procures a small blue lighter with a picture of Spongebob on the front of it.
“Why do you even have that?” He asks in thinly-veiled awe.
Minghao shrugs, throws it back into the drawer and slams it shut loud enough that their neighbor next door pounds angrily on the wall. Minghao only pounds back harder. It starts a fight between them that lasts far too long. Seokmin’s eventually the one to break it, grabbing the boy by the wrist and wrenching him away before he breaks the wall, his arm, or both.
“Junhui likes to light candles sometimes. You know…make an ambience .” the boy finally answers. Seokmin regrets asking instantly. He fake gags at the images that suddenly assault his brain. Minghao snickers at him.
“But we’re getting off topic here.” He finally cuts in. Seokmin pauses, raises an eyebrow.
“And that topic is?”
“How we’re going to get you to seduce Kim Mingyu.”
Seokmin launches a thrift-store throw pillow at Minghao’s face.
~~~
Their first official game falls on a Wednesday. Mingyu thinks its an absolutely heinous day to start the season on. Like seriously, a Wednesday? So everyone is already sort of tired because they’ve lived through two and a half days of the week already, and now they’ll be tired for the last two because of how hard they have to work in the middle of it? Bonkers.
Regardless, he can’t magically change the schedule, so he toughens it out. Its not like he’s actually playing anyways. He tries to not drown in the bitterness of this reality, though its a hard-fought battle.
At least he has a good number of distractions to help. Like a rowdy trio of some of his longest friends, a tentative new one brighter than the sun itself, and the rest of the team too. He’s even on the path to forming bonds with their newest members, like the foreign-born Freshman with the strange name--Vernon--who turns out to have a kickass music taste and one of the most chill personalities Mingyu’s ever come to know. He’s slowly been adopting him as his favorite dongsaeng. Its as meaningful a title as it sounds.
Still, Mingyu has always been an empathetic person, he’s a people-pleaser at baseline. When others hurt he hurts too. The happiness of those around him is his own, their sadness as well. The one he struggles with the most though? Anxiety. If anyone is visibly anxious in his vicinity it puts him immediately on edge with them, until he feels like he could crawl out of his own skin just to get them to stop. Its been one of the hardest struggles to navigate throughout his twenty some-odd years of life.
And Lee Seokmin is not making it any easier.
“Seokmin-ah, how long have you been playing this sport?”
“Since I was six.”
“Then why does it seem like you’ve never played a day in your life?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better ?”
Mingyu winces at the hysterical uptick of Seokmin’s voice. He supposes this is on him. Catch more flies with honey than vinegar or something like that. But he couldn’t help it, not with how jittery Seokmin’s been for the last hour--from the joint car ride (Seungcheol for once didn’t have to complain about Mingyu’s anxious foot shaking because Seokmin’s was far, far worse), to the opposing team’s field, to the last half hour of warmups on the diamond--he’s been a nervous wreck. And it’d be one thing if it was just his demeanor that was trembling like a leaf in the middle of a Nor’Easter, but its showing in his performance too.
And now Mingyu probably just went and made it worse. Maybe he really isn’t cut out for this coaching thing after all. He shakes the thought away, steels his resolve, and makes his way to the pitcher’s mound where Seokmin’s glaring holes into the sand. When he reaches him he places a tentative hand to his arm, uses it to gently guide him to their dugout. Its empty for now, the team and Coach all back out on the field. All that’s left behind is a myriad of bat bags shoved in corners and hung from the fencing, bottles of gatorade and powerade and every other “ade” on the market strewn about. He leads the way further inside, out of earshot of any team member, especially those that aren’t their own. The last thing they want to do is show any sort of weakness.
When they’re where he wants them, Mingyu tries to meet Seokmin’s gaze. He must sense his eyes on him because he glances up for a second, matches looks with Mingyu, and turns his head back to the ground. He looks like a sad little puppy. Mingyu’s chest gives a harsh pang, his gut a toiling brew of anxiety.
“Seokmin-ah, look at me.” He tries. The other follows after a moment, staring into Mingyu’s face with eyes pinched at the corners. “Why are you so nervous?” Seokmin scoffs at the question. The reaction makes Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline.
“How can I not be?” he raises a hand between them, “This game really sets the tone for the entire season. I sucked ass at the preseason one. And I have a huge act to follow.” he ticks off onto his fingers. Mingyu frowns at them all, grabs the hand in his own despite how hot the touch makes his cheeks. Silly, silly boy. How does he not know how good he is?
“Seokmin, listen to me. You would have never been chosen for this position if you weren’t good.” When he merely shakes his head, Mingyu continues on. “Other pitchers tried out you know. Maybe…a handful of others. Coach told me once he saw you play, saw you run through the drills, that he threw all their papers away.”
Seokmin snorts, gives him a wry grin. “Aish, you’re a hell of a liar Kim Mingyu.”
Mingyu gapes at the accusation, rolls his eyes. “I’m serious Seokmin-ah. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I helped him make the choices after tryouts. He had a stack of papers stuffed off to the side, when I asked what they were he said “the other pitchers besides the Lee Seokmin kid. He’s a no-brainer decision. I don’t even need to review them.” The other’s face slowly spreads into a shy grin at the words. Mingyu mirrors it with his own tiny smile, even though his chest throbs like a bruise. What the other boy doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?
“And, it should mean something, that the “tough act to follow” is telling you you’re good.” he adds on, smoothing it all over with a reassuring pat-rub combo to the boy’s shoulder. Seokmin snorts out a little laugh, gives another nod.
“Now, let’s go kick ass.”
“Hell yeah!”
~~~
They win their first official game. It comes down to one last pitch, the opposing team with two outs. Their bases are loaded and the scores are tied. If Seokmin doesn’t strike them out soon they can score another run and win the whole thing.
Its good then, that Seokmin is impeccable at what he does.
They swarm him when the game’s called, Seungcheol and Soonyoung working with the others to heft Seokmin to their shoulders. Is it a little dramatic for only the first game of a long season? Maybe. But somehow, with everything that’s happened in the past year, it feels so much bigger and all encompassing.
For the first time in months, Mingyu feels like he can breathe again.
Seokmin’s beaming figure is a little blurred at the edges, is worsened with a harsh blink.
Mingyu lets himself revel in the sting with a watery smile.
~~~
With a myriad of thoughts, plays, tips, and a steady stream of “Oh fuck are we gonna do this? Oh fuck can we do this? Oh shit we might actually do this?” flowing through his mind throughout the innings, it was quite easy for Mingyu to miss just how hard Seokmin pushed himself during them all.
It becomes pretty apparent when they make their way back to their own university, the team moving tired limbs through showers and changing. Usually Mingyu heads to Coach’s office to debrief during this--he has no reason to shower or change clothes after all--but today he hangs back. Coach accepts it easily enough, the man has his own life too and wants to get home, tells Mingyu they can discuss their notes and the game at their next practice in a couple days.
Its when the rest of the team is slowly petering out, some of them opting for cleaning up at their own dorms and apartments, that Mingyu finally approaches him. He catches the eyes of the rest of their friends on the way, waves off their inquiring gazes and flips off Seungcheol when he gives him a smirk. Adds another middle finger for good measure when Soonyoung starts making kissy faces. Thank god Seokmin has his back turned towards them.
Though that unfortunately means he catches Mingyu in the middle of his double-handed middle finger flip-off.
Mingyu quickly drops the gesture when he notices, clears his throat while Seokmin snickers.
“I wanted to tell you how well you did out there today. Good job on pulling yourself out of your funk. You were killer, Seokmin-ah I mean it.” Seokmin unsurprisingly goes shy under the praise, gives Mingyu the cutest little smile for it.
“I couldn’t have done it without you talking me down.” He offers, voice slightly muffled as he pulls his jersey over his head. His words falter at the end though, trailing off into a quiet pained hiss. Mingyu’s immediately on edge by it, looks over Seokmin with wide eyes. He doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary, no bruises, no cuts. Just tan skin. Muscled, tan skin. Mhm. Mingyu feels totally normal about the sight.
“What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” He frets, watching as Seokmin rubs somewhere near his left shoulderblade, rolls his arm forward and back. Oh god, Mingyu hopes he didn’t seriously injure himself. The season just started. He knew he should have convinced Coach to scout a backup. Worst case scenario Seungcheol can pitch--it was his position for years before Mingyu started excelling at it and he realized he liked being an outfielder more--but its been a while since that was his designated spot. He’d taken Mingyu’s place the rest of the previous season but his rustiness was clear when they’d just skated through to playoffs and got knocked out in the first round.
“I think I just twinged my shoulder a little in the last innings. I was doing the more complicated pitches to try and gain an advantage on them but they were so good so it was…never-ending.” he huffs. Mingyu frowns at him, an iffy thought popping into his head. Should he?
“You know, i’m a kinesiology major…we did a module last semester on overall physical health and one part of it was learning proper massage techniques…” he trails off. Seokmin peers up at him curiously. Is it just Mingyu, or do the boy’s eyes look slightly darker than usual?
“Is this your way of offering?”
“Y-yeah.” he stutters like an idiot . “Couldn’t hurt to try right?”. His accompanying shrug is anything but nonchalant but who even cares at this point? Mingyu just offered to massage the dude he’s been holding a flame for, for months now, he already feels like he’s in some sort of parallel universe.
“Here?” Seokmin mumbles. His throat jumps with a few quick gulps. Mingyu finds comfort knowing he isn’t the only one nervous about this.
“Yeah, maybe…lean over a little, brace yourself on the lockers?” Seokmin follows his instructions as easy as always, though Mingyu wishes he hadn’t. Maybe Jihoon’s right, maybe he really does only have two tin cans disguised as brain cells rattling around in his head. Because why the fuck did he just tell Seokmin to get into a position so…suggestive.
This all feels like the start of a really corny sports-themed porno. Mingyu could be bowled over by the sheer amount of regret that surges through him.
With a steeling breath, he gets closer to the other boy, pointedly leaving a gap of space between his ass and Mingyu’s crotch. Reaching out, he startles when Seokmin jumps at the first touch. hE makes to move his hands away but stops at the boy’s rushed out, “Sorry, sorry, one of your hands is just ice cold.”
“Oh yeah, it does that sometimes, sorry.” Mingyu mumbles, swallowing the new ache tightening at his throat. He forgets sometimes, the residual issues he’s been left with. He tries not to think about them, is better mentally when he ignores it all. This time, he focuses on the warmth of Seokmin’s skin under his palms to keep the thoughts at bay.
He glides over a tense area, Seokmin’s resounding groan letting him know he’s found the source of his earlier soreness. Mingyu works at the knot while he attempts to ignore the sounds pouring out from the other boy. He can tell, not only from what he feels but also when the noises die down, when he’s finally freed the knot up.
He doesn’t know why he doesn’t stop there though.
Instead, Mingyu moves below the problem area, massages across Seokmin’s mid-back to his other shoulder. He lopes around, hands kneading and pushing into supple skin, lithe muscles. At one point Seokmin adjusts his stance, arms moving enough that his back muscles ripple. The feel of them is sinful and is just what Mingyu needs to break him from his trance.
“U-uh I think that should be good.” He rushes out, pulling his hands back as if they’ve been burned. Oddly enough, Seokmin makes no move to, well, move .
“You didn’t fall asleep standing up did you?” Mingyu teases. He’s surprised when Seokmin slowly shakes his head.
His voice is strained when he finally speaks. “No…no sleeping here. I just. I can’t um. Turn around right now.”
Mingyu tenses, a myriad of explanations speeding through his mind. Shit, what if he did something wrong? He is only barely in his second year of university, what if he hit a nerve and now Seokmin’s paralyzed?
“Are you numb? Are you paralyzed? Should I call 9-1-1?” Shockingly, Seokmin snorts out a laugh, shakes his head (freely) from side to side, and peers over his shoulder. There’s a flush to his cheeks Mingyu’s never seen before. And he has seen quite a few blushes on Seokmin’s face in all the times they’ve interacted. This one’s softer somehow, more pink. It spans across his nose, his cheeks, his forehead. It looks…weirdly familiar somehow. His pupils are blown too, breath quickened. Oh. Oh .
He smirks at the boy as it dawns on him.
“You’re gonna be insufferable about this aren’t you?”
Mingyu shrugs. “Do you want me to be? Cos I can.” He weighs his options. The pros and the cons. Its undeniable that there’s some sort of tension there. The question is, is it worth the risk to try and break through it? Clearly Seokmin’s affected by him in some way, though its not exactly a rarity for people to get turned on by massages, so there’s a chance its more so that than Mingyu himself. On the other hand, if he’s wrong and makes Seokmin uncomfortable…
Fuck it, he decides. Mingyu almost died last year. What’s life worth if you don’t take a chance every now and then?
“Or…” he adds on, purposely trailing off at the end. Seokmin’s eyebrows skyrocket to his hairline.
“Or?” he echos, a hint of incredulity to his tone.
Mingyu still shoulders on. “Or I could help you with it. Your choice.” Silence stretches long and suffocating between them as Seokmin hesitates. Mingyu swallows down the pang of rejection, tacks on “No pressure though, Seokmin-ah. I won’t tease you about it even if you say no. I was just trying to be…suave or something.”
Seokmin thankfully snorts at the claim. “I know, Mingyu-ah.” he smiles, “I was just trying to figure out how to say ‘yes’ without sounding dorkily overenthusiastic.” Its Mingyu’s turn to laugh now, a quiet giggle tumbling out between them. Seokmin finally turns around then, gives Mingyu the full view of the strain in his pants. Its not as apparent as it would be normally, the hard cup they wear for protection during the game muting it. His arousal is still pushing against it though, enough for it to bulge almost comically against the material.
“Don’t laugh.” Seokmin whines when Mingyu breaks out into a smirk. He holds his hands up placatingly, swallows down some of his glee. Its easy to do anyways, with the pang of sympathy he feels. Its gotta be uncomfortable, straining against something like that.
Mingyu coos at the other instead of teasing, though it still makes Seokmin roll his eyes. His face quickly changes over though, eyes blowing into saucers when Mingyu drops unceremoniously to his knees in front of him. “This’s gotta hurt.” Mingyu mumbles around a pout, hands reaching to undo the belt around Seokmin’s waist. Spindly tan fingers match up with his thicker ones to help push the material down. Mingyu swallows a wave of saliva at the way they’re practically painted to his thighs.
His socks follow on the way down, Mingyu rolling everything off until Seokmin steps out completely. He’s left in just the jock strap now, cup pressing out. Mingyu can catch a small glimpse of him from the side. That sight alone lets him see just how huge Seokmin is. It makes his mouth simultaneously dry out and water up. He licks over his lips, skin feeling parched beneath his tongue.
If Mingyu didn’t feel for Seokmin’s poor dick so much, he’d have him turn around. He knows in his heart of hearts that the boy’s ass and thighs must look impeccable in the strap. Maybe someday, another day. When the cup isn’t in it.
If this happens again that is. Mingyu chooses not to focus on that for now.
The white straps get eased down with slow hands, Mingyu’s eyes greedily roving over each inch of Seokmin that’s revealed. His cock springs free the second everything’s off enough, skin flushed red with moisture pooling at the tip. Mingyu leans in to gather it all with a lick. It spreads thin and salty across his tongue. Seokmin breathes out a whimpery moan.
Mingyu traces along the length of him, tongue dancing along the veins at the bottom. They’re widened, vessels engorged with blood that burns hot when he mouths over them. With small smacking sounds he presses kisses up and down, pauses at the balls to pop each one in his mouth. They’re both drawn tight, skin coarse with a smattering of hair. Mingyu releases them softly and leans back on his knees, swallowing a few times and catching his breath. His hand works over Seokmin all the while, the tug of his palm eased by a mix of saliva and precome.
He uses the reprieve to peer up at the boy, moaning himself at the sight of him. The long muscles of his tan neck are strained, his head thrown back as he pants. His mouth is drawn open, a stream of moans, whimpers, little whines of Mingyu’s name, all falling from it. His bottom lip is swollen and red, bitten over by white teeth when Mingyu flicks his wrist. He looks beautiful. He looks like sin. Mingyu wants to devour him whole.
Determination flooding his veins, Mingyu curls over his teeth and eases Seokmin fully into his mouth. The boy outright groans when he does, legs shaking where Mingyu’s grabbing at them. He uses his grip there as leverage, guiding Seokmin’s hips to start up a slow thrust inside. The boy follows without a second thought, plush hips grinding through wave-like motions. His muscles tense, shake, every time he hits deep. With one well-timed tongue curl his body bows over Mingyu, one hand scrambling for leverage on the lockers behind him. The other gets tangled into Mingyu’s hair. A tug stings through his roots, makes him whine around his mouthful of cock. The sound is enough to finally, finally get Seokmin to look down at him.
His pupils are so blown they’re nearly black, eyelids heavy. His gaze pierces through Mingyu, makes him flutter his eyes shut and double down his efforts. One more trio of thrusts and Seokmin’s done for, body curling taught around him as his hips stutter to a stop. Warm, thick heat fills Mingyu’s mouth, enough of it that he has to pull off, cough a little against his throat’s clenching protests. The rest lands somewhere on the floor between them. He’s just thankful it didn’t hit his coaching jersey. He has no idea if Coach even has a backup.
The thought of Coach is enough to make reality set in, Mingyu scrambling up with a crack to both knees. His head swims a bit with the quick movement, blood pooling anywhere but his head for the time being. God, if this is what an erection feels like against this style of pant without the cup, he can’t even begin to imagine the type of pain Seokmin was in before.
“Let me help.” Seokmin croaks, legs shaking as he backs Mingyu up against the lockers. His hands tremble like half-broken branches while he tries to undo Mingyu’s pants, enough that he takes over himself. Seokmin lets him, dips a hand inside as soon as they’re loose. His skin is fire-hot when he wraps around Mingyu’s sensitive cock. It takes barely a handful of pulls for Mingyu to come, most of it filling his underwear. He gasps quietly between them when Seokmin cleans the rest from his hand in long lathes of his tongue, finishing the show off with a pleased little smirk.
Mingyu is helpless but to pull him in for a long, wet kiss.
They stay like that for awhile, leaned together while they explore each other’s mouths, swallowing the taste of one another down in the process. At some point Seokmin tries to get Mingyu into the shower with him, and he’s about to follow, before he remembers the scars and backs out. He’s not sure what Seokmin sees on his face then, but it must be enough for him, because he eases off, gaze soft.
Mingyu cleans himself off with damp paper towels as well as he can. He knows he should probably get back to the dorm, should shower properly there. But something in him is telling him to linger, to wait for Seokmin to finish.
He really wants to walk the boy home.
Seokmin seems surprised to see him when he comes out, clearly expecting him to be gone if the way he parades towards the lockers fully naked is anything to go by. Mingyu uses the opportunity to look his fill, is delighted to see the boy’s ass is just as good as he knew it’d be. He can’t hold back his snicker when Seokmin jumps at the sight of him.
“I thought you’d left.”
“Nah, wanted to hang around. Walk you home.”
“Ah, such a gentleman, Kim Mingoo~” Seokmin teases, throwing his head back with a cackle when Mingyu uses his own discarded towel as a makeshift whip against his ass.
Afterwards, it doesn’t take long for Seokmin to get dressed, gather up his things. He face is split in a beaming grin as he follows Mingyu out of the musty locker room. Dusk greets them when they reach outside, sky a mix of indigo and violet. The darkness brought with it the chill of night, wind blowing over and making Seokmin shiver. Mingyu reaches up and adjusts the scarf around the boy’s neck. It earns him rosette cheeks in return.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at practice?” Seokmin says once they reach the building belonging to them. Its the first thing he’s said since they left the gym, the two making the trek in comfortable silence only broken by the occasional giggle when they bumped shoulders.
“Yes.” Mingyu nods. Then, he pauses. “And I mean…” he trails off. Well. Too late now. Seokmin’s mouth pops open with question.
“I mean you can text me too. Like about stuff that’s not just practice related.” He offers, hoping Seokmin rises to the bait. Mingyu doesn’t really know what earlier means for them, but he does know he wants to at least try and get closer for now, even if they don’t talk about it or address it. At the very least he wants to be friends. Even if he so desperately wants to be more than that.
“O-oh.” Seokmin stutters, before breaking into a pearly grin. “Noted.” he adds.
Mingyu grins back, hesitates then. Should they hug now? Kiss? Fist bump? Do nothing? He swears he can see the same question mirrored on Seokmin’s face, the way his eyes flit over Mingyu’s body from head to toe.
Its decided for them when a man pushes through the entrance door, rushing down the stairs before pausing. He gapes at the sight of Seokmin, whacks him on the shoulder. Mingyu moves closer, wondering if he needs to interfere, when Seokmin lets out a giggle.
“You ass, I was about to call campus police or something. Why didn’t you check your phone?!”
“I was playing the game Hao, I wasn’t checking my phone.”
“Yeah, and after that? You sent the “We won” text hours ago.”
Mingyu fights off his smirk when Seokmin turns awkward, flush deepening. The mystery man’s gaze jumps between them, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Mingyu watches his eyes widen, a pleased smirk suddenly stretching his lips.
“O-oh I see --”
“Okay Minghao i’m alive let’s go inside!” Seokmin interrupts, corralling the other man back towards the entrance. He doesn’t fight him on it, but he does match Mingyu’s gaze the entire time, eyes glued to his face.
“If you hurt him i’ll kick your--”
“Okay, great, bye Mingyu!” Seokmin yells over his shoulder, pushing them both inside with one last shove.
Mingyu shakes his head, decides to pass the time by dipping into the convenience store down the street. He’s pretty sure Seokmin forgot they live in the same dorm building. He figures he’ll save him the embarrassment of that fact for now.
Later that night, he gets two texts. One from Seokmin, and one from an unknown number.
Lee Seokmin
Ty you again for everything today Mingyu ur a great coach!
Mingyu quickly changes the boy’s previously formal contact name to something more fitting. Maybe even throws in a heart emoji. If anyone asks he’ll say his finger slipped. Another text rolls through right when he’s finalizing it.
Seokmin-ah <3
I’ll see u tomorrow! Sweet dreams! :D
He’s just settling beneath the covers when the second one rolls through.
Unknown [ Add to contact list? X O ]
I know where you live Kim Mingyu. You hurt him, I wear your balls as earrings.
To: [ NEW Contact: Seok’s Roommate? ]
You got it, dude
~~~
“You what ?!” Seokmin frantically tries to shush his newly incredulous dongsaeng. He’s really gotta stop telling people major life events in public places. He sends a glare to Minghao where he sits, body shaking while he muffles giggles behind the rim of his coffee cup. Next to him, Seungkwan is still a mess, the poor boy locked in a wide-eyed gape. Seokmin regrets ever telling him anything. Isn’t sure why he did. He supposes he just wanted another person he could vent to about all this that wasn’t the ever-judgemental yet silently supportive Xu Minghao. He’d already gotten an earful from him the moment they stepped into their dorm last night.
“I didn’t even need to come up with some big seduction plan huh. You just jumped right in?”
“ He offered to me .” Seokmin emphasizes.
Minghao smirks. “Exactly”.
“I can’t believe you sucked Kim Mingyu off in the university locker rooms.” Seungkwan sighs out. His voice is still too loud for Seokmin’s liking. He slumps into the booth, face on fire and body seemingly drenched in a sickly sweat. He wishes he had the power of teleportation right now.
“Yah Seungkwan-ah, indoor voice.” Seokmin whines at the younger boy. At least he has the decency to look guilty, round face flitting around to see if anyone’s listening it. Thankfully he comes up negative, though he still whispers a quiet “Sorry” to his nervous-looking sunbae. Seokmin waves him off, leans closer over the table. “And I didn’t suck him off, he sucked me off.” he whispers, face breaking in a smirk at Seungkwan’s awed “Wow”.
“Wow.” Minghao mocks with a scoff. It makes the other two’s attention snap to him like a pair of startled meerkats. Minghao rolls his eyes at their expressions. “Kim Mingyu is the campus slut. Is getting with him really something to ‘wow’ over?”
“You didn’t tell me that last night!” Seokmin whines. Minghao’s expression stutters into one filled with guilt. The table starts to shake with the anxious bobble of his leg, a nervous tick he’s held since they were kids.
“You just looked so excited. I figured you’d find out eventually…I didn’t want to burst your bubble.” Minghao’s pouting, a rare sight to behold. Seokmin almost wants to take a picture, until his words actually settle in.
“Aw Myunghao-ah.” Seokmin coos. He grabs for the boy’s hand across the table, the other handing it over with a tiny grin. Seokmin laces their fingers together and shakes them where they’re connected. Despite the jest he really is touched. Can’t say he’s surprised either--Minghao’s been looking out for him for the past two decades. Seokmin can’t imagine life without him.
“I don’t know why I befriended either of you.” Seungkwan says, promptly bursting their little bubble. They turn to him with twin glares, Seokmin’s slightly softer than Minghao’s. It turns Seungkwan nervous until they break into giggles.
“I don’t know why you did either.” Seokmin says with an exaggerated huff, upturning his nose. Minghao does the same, shoulders shaking all the while.
The trio know its merely a joke anyways. In reality it was actually Seokmin that befriended him first. He couldn’t help himself, he reasons. The Freshman had looked so cute, all wide-eyed and alone on the first day of their shared theater class. Seokmin had already been impressed with him--the boy was the only Freshman in a mostly Sophomore and Junior-filled class--and it was only heightened when he’d heard him sing during their introductory songs. Seungkwan had a knockout sort of voice, smooth like silken honey and rich like the best cup of espresso. Seokmin had simply been drawn to him like a fuzzy moth to a firelit flame. And he’d felt an almost maternal level of protection for him, especially with the way some of the more experienced classmates had been eying him. It was nearly second-nature to take him under his wing.
It’d helped too, that they had a shared camaraderie; they were both new to the school, were both outsiders to everyone else there. Their bond formed like flowing water after that.
“Y’know, i’ve heard that too, that Mingyu has a reputation.” Seungkwan adds after they lapse into silence. It leaves Seokmin gaping at him, smirking Minghao at his side. “How the hell do you know too but not me? You’re just as new here as me.”
“I have my sources.” Seungkwan sniffs. Seokmin and Minghao share a sigh, a commiserating look. That’s another thing about Boo Seungkwan--he may have started university as a timid little outsider, but it’d only taken a few weeks until he became one of the campus’s top socialites. He has more friends than Seokmin could ever even hope for, something that would make Seokmin’s naturally introverted ass curl up and wish for death, but makes Seungkwan thrive like a plant in the afternoon sun. He’s happy for him, even if it means stopping every so often when they’re out for Seungkwan to talk to some person he bumps into and somehow already knows, or to see his phone screen constantly light up with new texts from a myriad of numbers when they’re together, or for the boy to launch into new gossip every day about a new pair of people Seokmin will forget the names of almost instantly.
“Plus, I don’t care about his reputation. I don’t want anything serious anyways.” Seokmin says later, when the three of them have finally started properly tackling schoolwork, the space between them silent save for the tinny pop song playing over the cafe’s speakers, the din of chatter from the other tables.
He keeps his eyes glued to his laptop after saying it. It makes him miss the skeptical look his two friends share.
~~~
“You know, for someone trying to be subtle, you sure do make googly eyes at him a whole lot.” comes from Mingyu’s left. He shoots the comment’s source a glare in return. Soonyoung doesn’t even flinch. Next to him, Jihoon and Seungcheol lazily pass a bag of sunflower seeds back and forth. The cement dugout floor beneath their feet is already littered in spit-out shells. Absolute animals, the two of them.
“You know, for someone who’s been holding a burning torch for someone for a literal decade, you sure haven’t made any move on the--OW!” Mingyu doubles over at the kick, the rounded tip of Soonyoung’s cleat getting him right in the shin. He snaps back to whine at him, eyebrows scrunched together in aggravation. “Didn’t your eomma tell you not to bully the wounded?”
Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Don’t play that card.” Mingyu pouts over it but leaves it be. Its a can of worms he really shouldn’t be opening right now anyways, not when the game is nearly about to start. He should actually be out on the field right now, throwing guidelines Seokmin’s way as he warms up. Actually, all four of them should be out there. The problem is, its too fucking warm. Unseasonably warm. Its only the end of March, it’d snowed just last week, yet the temperature is almost in the seventies. Jihoon had mumbled “the Earth’s dying” when they’d shuffled out of their carpool earlier. Seungcheol had given him a whack to his shoulder for “being a debbie downer”.
And its not like Mingyu’s neglecting the pitcher either. Coach is in his place right now, talking something over with him. It’d probably help if Mingyu was out there too, but…the dugout is just so chilled right now, rickety roof and cement walls blocking out the sun and cooling the air.
“How many times have you guys fucked now?” Soonyoung breaks in. Mingyu rolls his neck towards the ceiling and takes in a long, soothing sigh. It fills his nose with the smell of damp grass and fresh mulch, but its almost comforting, somehow.
Thankfully they’re the only ones in there. Mingyu would have gotten charged with murder otherwise.
Because despite his idiot friends knowing “the dirty scoop” as Soonyoung keeps insisting on calling it, Mingyu is very much trying to keep his and Seokmin’s…arrangement under wraps. He doesn’t exactly want to look like he has some sort of bias or favoritism, not if he wants to be respected as a co-coach. And he tries to keep it out of his mind at practices and games anyways. The power play there makes him feel…icky.
“I’m not telling you that.” is what he settles on. He gets a drawn out whine in response, hardly surprising, followed by Soonyoung’s attempts at wheedling a proper answer out of him. Its mostly a mix of his name and various, awful nicknames (Mingoose, Mingoop, Mingy), yet its enough to finally wear him down.
“Good god if I tell you the number will you stop? I mean, you guys should really be out practicing.” He groans.
“And you should be out coaching yet we’re all here aren’t we?” Seungcheol smirks. Mingyu looks at him in betrayal.
“Yah, you’re my longest friend, you should be on my side here.”
“Seungcheol is on no one’s side when it comes to gossip, you know this.” Jihoon adds. Throwing his hands up, Mingyu whispers a “Four” to them. They break out into school-girl-esque squeals at the admission. Mingyu buries his face in his hands and muffles a scream. When he peeks out he catches Seokmin’s eye through the fence, apparently drawn to them from the loud commotion. Mingyu harbors a quick glance at Coach, gives the boy only an awkward wave when he notices the older man looking as well.
“Just don’t fuck him too hard yeah? He’s one of our best runners too.”
“Yeah, I mean, his pitches could go all wonky if he’s sore too.”
“Right, right. Remember that game last season where Mingyu kept walking the other team? That was right after the night we went clubbing and he hooked up with that big dude, the beefy one…what was his name?”
“Oh shit yeah, Wongo or Wonmo or something. Yeah that was hilarious.”
Mingyu ignores his friends loudly and unabashedly talking about him as if he isn’t two point five feet away from them. Instead, he focuses on Seokmin again, the curve of his body as he throws out a pitch…the stretch of his pants over his ass…his thighs.
“Mingyu-ah, run through the corkscrew with Seokmin-ah again!” snaps him from his thoughts. God, did Coach teleport there or something? Was Mingyu really that zoned out?
He just hopes Coach is too distracted by his own notes to hear Soonyoung’s “Oh i’m sure Mingyu would love to help Seokmin screw.” followed by two pairs of cackles.
Kim Mingyu once again really needs new friends.
~~~
“Fuck Seok, no marks baby.” Seokmin hides his pout at the words in Mingyu’s neck. The skin is warm, a little damp from his tongue. It’d look so pretty mottled with purple, red. But he supposes he gets it, the hiding thing. He’ll take what he can get for now.
He redirects his efforts upward, tangling his mouth with Mingyu’s own. The man is so good at kissing, has this cute little pattern he does. He’ll start sweet--little pecks, closed mouth, then he’ll go deeper--trace over Seokmin’s lips with his tongue, a silent plea for entrance. He always grants it, could go drunk off the feeling of Mingyu’s hot tongue in his mouth, the way he traces over his teeth. Seokmin revels in the way his moans taste.
He breaks the kiss for only a moment, using the pause to settle himself into Mingyu’s lap. His hands reach up easily, knead over Seokmin’s ass greedily. He presses a smirk against Mingyu’s mouth, starts a slow grind with his hips that stutters a moan right into him. The movement drags their clothed cocks together, thin fabric of their sweats barely hiding the shape of their lengths. Seokmin can already feel his thighs begin to shake.
“What do you want?” Mingyu whispers. Seokmin pulls away from their kiss to match obsidian eyes with onyx, both their pupils blown beyond belief. He rests his forehead against Mingyu’s own, lets his mouth turn up at the corners, tilt around his words. “Want you in me.”
Mingyu rises to the bait, uses his grip on Seokmin’s hips as leverage to tilt him over. He falls to the mattress with a giggle, wiggles himself up so his head lays on the pillow properly. Mingyu peers down at him with a grin, hand reaching out to thumb at one of the dimples in his chin. The gesture is achingly sweet, a stark contrast to the absolute sin that’s about to come.
He’s startled then, when with a click they’re bathed into darkness. Seokmin frowns into it, hands reaching out until they fall somewhere on Mingyu’s sides. “Can’t you at least draw the curtain a little?” he asks around a pout. He feels Mingyu’s muscles tense up beneath his fingers, lets his confusion fill the space between them. “Your eyes will adjust.” Mingyu answers. “Like they did last time.” he adds.
“Yeah last time, and the time before that.” He grumbles. Mingyu turns even more solid under his hands. Seokmin drops them away to ball fists at his sides. Frustration blanketed by hurt rips an aching hole into his chest. He doesn’t understand why the other does this. He’s been too afraid the last few times to even attempt to find the truth. A fear niggles at the back of his brain like a little worm. A very particular fear, one he debates on voicing. Still, he doesn’t know whether he can keep up this act, continue to push down the questions that eat away at his tongue. He doesn’t know if he can keep whatever they have right now, with such a major insecurity always there.
“Do you not want to see me naked again? Was I--the first time…did you not like what you saw?” he blurts, the urge to know winning over the fear of consequence. On his lap Mingyu jerks, mouth stuttering over half words and broken sentences. It doesn’t read well to Seokmin. His eyes begin to burn. The position he’s in doesn’t help things, gravity easily pulling the tears from him until they drop down the sides of his face to the pillow below. Mingyu must feel them when he reaches out, warm palms cupping his face. He lets out a hurt-sounding whine while he thumbs them away. One hand leaves and suddenly Seokmin’s eyes are stinging for an entirely different reason, the room bathed back into lamplight.
Seokmin blinks against the brightness, vision clearing enough to make out the stricken look on Mingyu’s face. He starts shaking his head when they meet gazes, leans back down to hold his cheeks again. A small kiss is pressed to his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. Seokmin allows each touch easily, though his mind is a mess of confusion. When he’s finished, Mingyu pulls away enough for their eyes to lock, their faces only a couple inches apart. Seokmin can make out every minute detail of him like this--the freckle on the tip of his nose, the prominent dip of his cupid’s bow, the curve of his double eyelids. He takes them all in, commits them to memory just in case.
“Seokmin-ah its not you, its me.” He starts with, immediately turning sheepish at Seokmin’s exasperated huff. He shakes his head again, moves to leave a kiss on his frowning lips, then goes back to hovering over him. “I--you must know about the accident right? The reason i’m coaching instead of playing.”
Seokmin nods hesitantly. He knows the gist of it at least, remembers all the articles, the news stories. Korea in and of itself is a small country, and each city is tight-knit. News spreads like wildfire, especially if its only from a town over. Plus, Minghao told him when it happened too. Seokmin was one of many who sent get well soon cards to Mingyu’s hospital room when the announcements came, the requests from his broken mother to send some cheer and hope his way. He’d made his by hand with Minghao, even though he sucked at visual art.
“I know a little.” he admits, leaving the floor open for the other to speak. He won’t ask him outright for a retelling--it seems like a cruel thing to do. Yet, he has the sense, the feeling, that this is Mingyu about to open up to him. He doesn’t think he needs to ask the other to, thinks he’s about to tell him voluntarily.
And he’s right, Mingyu slowly recounting the tale for him. He tells him it’d been a normal night, a Tuesday in the middle of the Spring semester last year. He’d been driving home from practice, alone for once because Seungcheol had gotten picked up by Jeonghan, Soonyoung by Wonwoo. Jihoon had opted to drive himself, had a composition midterm he wanted to work on back in the university’s studios. “I always think about how it could have gone if we’d carpooled like usual. Its one of the thoughts I still…struggle with.” he’d stopped in the middle to add. Seokmin had started a slow caress over one of his hands, warm where it was held in his own. Mingyu was back at his side, head tilted back against the headboard of Seokmin’s bed. His eyes were staring unseeingly at the worn ceiling of his dorm. Seokmin couldn’t tear his eyes from his face, the pained pinch of it, even if he tried.
Mingyu had continued then, voice growing quieter with each word. Seokmin found it a little astounding, how he could remember every little detail that led up to it. He figured that was what happened with major trauma.
“It was pretty much evening at that point, the sun starting to set a little. I had my phone on shuffle, it was playing ‘BangBangBang--weirdly ironic now.’” he’d recounted with a wry grin. Seokmin traced his free hand over one of the boy’s ears, the skin pink with embarrassment. Mingyu had laughed a little to himself.
*
“After that, all I can really remember is this blinding light to my left, this loud scrape of metal. I was in and out of consciousness for a week. They’d put me in a medically-induced coma at one point because I needed to be intubated. One of my lungs collapsed completely, i’d gotten a tear to my liver, had to have a bowel resection and a bunch of other surgeries. Um, mostly on my arm. The way the guy hit me, a piece of his car tore almost completely through my shoulder. The doctor’s told me my whole arm was hanging on only by a ligament.” He retells the tale with an almost clinical kind of precision, voice devoid of feeling. What doesn’t translate through his tone is all over his face though, eyes full of a pain Seokmin can’t even begin to try and understand.
*
“It took four different surgeries to fix.” Mingyu continues on, “The nerves and vessels are kind of wonky now, its why my hand on that side is ice-cold sometimes.” The words spark a memory in Seokmin’s mind then, of the massage weeks ago in the locker room, his own words at the time. He winces. Mingyu catches it, gives his hand a squeeze. Seokmin notices now that is the hand in question, feels the warmth in it. He wonders if its from his own touch or Mingyu’s circulatory system deciding to behave.
“I had physical therapy daily for six months, three times a week for another three. Now I go weekly, but i’ll never get back to how I was. The doctors told me to not even try pitching again unless I want to ‘completely undo all my progress’.” he mocks with air quotes. “I know I could try and use my right hand but i’ve been a lefty my whole life. And even if I did keep pitching, I’d never be able to bat because I’d need both arms…so now here I am.”
Mingyu stops then, a silence stretching that lets Seokmin know the story’s finished, at least for now. Seokmin tries to formulate some sort of response, is frustrated when he keeps coming up short. What do you even say to all that? ‘I’m sorry’ seems far too lame for so much trauma. Maybe…maybe words aren’t needed at all, he thinks.
Mingyu falls into his arms without hesitation, letting Seokmin wrap him into a tight embrace. He purposely ignores the dampness he can feel against his neck, only focuses on running gentle fingers through Mingyu’s soft hair, over his shoulders, down his back.
“Anyways.” he mumbles into Seokmin’s skin. “The whole point of all this…depressing shit was to tell you I have scars. A lot of scars. I mean, when you go through all that, all those surgeries, you end up with them.”
“And you don’t want to take your shirt off because of them.” Seokmin fills in the blank. Mingyu rubs at his eyes as he pulls away, gives him a nod mixed with a watery smile.
“Yeah…they’re not--they’re not pretty.” he laughs self-deprecatingly. Seokmin ‘tsks’ at him, shakes his head. No way is he letting Mingyu dump on himself in his bed, no siree. The man is a sight for sore eyes, a living, breathing marble statue. His facial structure could make even the weakest men weep. Seokmin’s sure he looks just as otherworldly even with the scars.
When he says as much, Mingyu turns incredibly sheepish. Its enough to make him want to coo. So he does, reveling in the deepening of the other’s blush, the way he hides his face in his hands. Seokmin pries them away gently, lets out a quiet laugh when Mingyu gives him a weak glare. He’s helpless but to kiss away the small pout pulling at his lips.
“Mingyu-ah, you don’t need to hide from me. But if it makes you more comfortable, you can keep your shirt on, I won’t force you out of it. But please stop turning out the lights. I want to see every expression on your beautiful face” he practically begs. Mingyu gives one more embarrassed whine before conceding with a tiny nod. Seokmin lets out a short “whoop!” in excitement, pressing Mingyu to the sheets right after. Mingyu doesn’t stay there for long though, swapping their positions so Seokmin’s the one underneath.
“You still want to right? I didn’t ruin the mood did I?” he whispers above him, palms cupping Seokmin’s jaw. His thumbs run gentle lines over the jut of his cheek bones, one pressing over the mole on Seokmin’s skin. His eyes curve up in a grin. “I feel like I should be asking you that.” he answers back just as quiet. Mingyu shakes his head, moves down until he can meet him in a kiss.
“I want to, if you do.” Seokmin answers him with another kiss.
Mingyu adjusts his body, moves so he’s blanketing Seokmin in a line of muscle and warm skin. A featherlight mouth is pressed into the line of his neck, down, down, downward to the collar of his tee. His arms go above his head easily as Mingyu starts to tug it off. Skin free, Seokmin whines as Mingyu goes back to his path, dark strands of his hair tickling Seokmin’s bare skin all the while. His hair’s been getting longer recently, curling down his temples and the back of his neck. One time Mingyu showed up on his doorstep with the top of it in a tiny ponytail. Seokmin had never jumped a man’s bones so quickly in his life.
Wetness meets one of his sensitive nipples, a scrape of white teeth following. Seokmin reaches up, tangles one of his hands in the long tendrils of Mingyu’s hair, gives a tug and smirks when he whines. Seokmin’s capitalized on Mingyu’s hair pulling kink a lot since their first hookup in the locker room.
Seemingly satisfied with his torso, Mingyu starts easing Seokmin’s pants off. A dark eyebrow gets raised up at him along with a teasing smirk when the grey material is tugged off, revealing no underwear underneath. Seokmin shrugs with a sheepish grin.
His thigh jerks when Mingyu bites into it, teeth catching the plush inner flesh in their grasp. A weak gasp falls from his lips at the feeling. He pouts down at the other boy, tugs on his hair hard enough for him to look up. “What happened to ‘no marks’?” A smirk pulls the corner of Mingyu’s lips up.
“No marks in visible places.” he corrects, “Don’t think your inner thighs are all that visible, Seok.” Mingyu teases, thumb pressing into the purpling mark. Seokmin’s legs shake at it again, a short whine breaking free. He glares down at Mingyu before his own smirk breaks across his face. “I mean, they can be if I shower in the locker room.” he says airily. It has the desired effect, Mingyu’s face darkening as his hand grips Seokmin’s thigh tighter. He makes his way back up his body, face looming across from his own.
“Is that so hmm? Gonna parade your cute little ass around for everyone to see?” His voice is pure gravel with its depth, nearly a growl when he speaks. Seokmin’s heart thunders in his ears, cock twitching against his belly. It’d only taken a couple hookups for him to clock Mingyu’s possessiveness kink. He chooses to ignore the irony of him being possessive yet staking no real claim over him. He’ll agonize over it enough once Mingyu leaves, when Seokmin’s alone in bed with an ache in his ass and a leaking heart. For now though, he’ll take full advantage of how hard it makes Mingyu fuck him.
“Maybe I will.” he agrees easily, laughing when Mingyu gives another growl before tonguing into his mouth. Seokmin lets him, always lets him. Things turn headier after that, Mingyu’s kisses deeper, caresses harder. He loses his pants too at some point, vee of his hips jerking while Seokmin tugs him off. His cock is just as perfect as the rest of him, a little shorter than his own but twice as thick. Seokmin’s a little obsessed with it if he’s being honest.
Mingyu eventually ends up gently easing his hand away, a quiet “Gonna make me too close.” leaving his lips. Seokmin’s left on his back then, Mingyu between his legs with a container of lube in one hand. Usually in the dark by this point, Seokmin’s never noticed before that the bottle’s strawberry flavored. He has been wondering what that smell’s been all these times. He makes a mental note to tease the other about it later.
Thick fingers steadily start to work him open, breaking him from his musings. They tease over his prostate until he’s a leaking mess against his stomach and a begging mess from the shoulders up.
Seokmin watches in anticipation as Mingyu rolls a condom on. Then promptly wants to weep with bone-deep sorrow when he seemingly stops right after.
“Wha--” leaves his lips, words cut off when Mingyu answers for him--a pair of shaking hands tugging his shirt over his head. Seokmin’s stunned into silence, chest rose-colored and full of butterflies at the gesture. There’s a meaningful pause between them, Mingyu looking up at him with a face full of shyness while Seokmin takes him in.
His chest is…impeccable. Even that word doesn’t feel like it fits right. A more accurate yet entirely less eloquent way Seokmin could describe it is “AWOOGA”. Years of athleticism and months of physical therapy have sculpted Mingyu’s pecs beautifully, left him curved in all the right places. Below it are a set of less defined yet still taut abs, lines of them seemingly glowing in the golden light of the room. The rest leads to what Seokmin’s already seen, though its not any less stunning than before--a taut vee line with a perfect little happy trail, all serving to point at an unfairly pretty, deliciously thick cock.
Seokmin flits his eyes back up to his face, retraces his path downward. Looking closer, he can see the scars Mingyu was referring to. Along his left shoulder is a smattering of raised lines, some thick, some thin. They’re a dusty red sort of color, muted with skin healed over. They tangle around the socket, extend down haphazardly on his tricep, bicep. Seokmin swallows, traces downward again and finds another scar nestled beneath Mingyu’s belly button. It’s horizontal, a little jagged at the edges. The color’s a similar tone to the lines of shoulder, though slightly less vibrant. Seokmin was so distracted by abs and cock that he missed it at first. A voice in his head that sounds annoyingly like Minghao laughs at him for it.
Mingyu clearing his throat self-consciously snaps Seokmin out of his laser-focused staring. He places his gaze on Mingyu’s face again, hopes his expression puts to words what his mouth can’t. Mingyu swallows again, adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. The nervous pinch around his eyes, his mouth, softens just so. In a split-second decision, Seokmin decides to try and use one of his trademarks: diffusing tension with humor. Exaggerated pout on his lips, he makes grabby hands up at Mingyu. A laugh bursts out of him then, the taller boy moving to bracket Seokmin’s head with his elbows. They meet in a kiss, one slow enough for Seokmin to try and press all his jumbled thoughts into it.
Mingyu eases away, gentle smile on his face. Seokmin returns it, desire spreading in tendrils through him again. Hands trembling, he uses one to trace over Mingyu’s shoulder with a fingertip, touch barely there. It still makes the boy shiver, makes him lock eyes with him. They’re full of something; what, Seokmin doesn’t know. But it looks soft like cotton candy, as sweet as it too. Seokmin’s about ninety-nine percent certain his own looks the same.
One more kiss and Mingyu’s moving closer. Seokmin can feel him pressed against his hip, iron-brand hot and steel hard. It makes his hips jerk in anticipation, makes his belly curl with want. Mingyu must sense it because he settles back on his haunches, one hand taking ahold of himself. His other hand eases one of Seokmin’s thighs to settle over his hip, position spreading him wide and leaving a perfect window of space for Mingyu to move into. Hot flesh traces over his sensitive hole. With one last look shared between them, Mingyu starts to push himself inside.
The feeling makes Seokmin slam his eyes shut, effectively breaking the staring match they locked into. His mouth falls open on a soundless gasp, body tensing up at the intrusion. Mingyu is so big , taking the first few inches of him every time is always a feat.
The man is so sweet about it though, patient and doting as he works inside. The hand on Seokmin’s thigh rubs circles into the skin, his lips drop down to lay butterfly kisses all over his face. Low words leave his lips, tiny praises and acclamations working to soothe Seokmin pliant.
His beginning, proper thrusts, are always measured, almost tentative in their strength. He works Seokmin up to the real-deal, letting him get used to the feeling. He adjusts his position here and there, working with tunnel-vision determination to find the spot that makes Seokmin see stars. His eyes dance across Seokmin’s face for any miniscule change, cataloging them all until finally--
“A-ah fuck.” Mingyu answers him with his own pleased-sounding moan, hips hitting forward again with the same angle. It drives his heavy cockhead right into his prostate, Seokmin’s nerves alight in pleasure.
Sweaty bodies rise and crest like ocean waves, skin glistening in the dim room. Seokmin forces his eyes open no matter how much they want to close, mind wanting to take in everything it can. This is the first time he’s ever seen Mingyu fully during sex--minus the time in the locker room. And back then Mingyu was almost fully dressed, and Seokmin was too worked up to really pay attention to his face. Now though, the man is a sight to behold.
Molten eyes burn into his own when he meets them. His tan skin is flushed across the cheeks like he spent the day in the heat of the sun. Thick eyebrows are pinched together, pointed teeth chewed into the corner of his pretty lips. They’re bitten apple red, swollen from all their kissing. They fall open around a moan when Seokmin purposely clenches around him.
“Fuck Seokmin-ah.” Mingyu groans, diving down again to claim his mouth. Seokmin’s lips are sore when they meet, but he powers on, the feeling of Mingyu’s kisses too addicting to refuse. They breathe together, close in their little bubble of desire, hot breaths mingling. Mingyu rests a sweaty forehead against Seokmin’s, his hair falls against his face and tickles his cheeks while he moves.
Seokmin’s nails dig crescents into Mingyu’s shoulders. Using one foot for leverage, he eases his other thigh over Mingyu’s lower back until both his legs are wrapped around him. It makes Mingyu hit deeper somehow, and absolutely amplifies the feeling of practically being split open around his girth.
And it makes him closer. So much closer.
“Mingyu-ah, ‘m gonna come.” Seokmin manages to whine. His voice is shot, a croaky mess mixed with a breathlessness he can’t shake. The words only make Mingyu double his efforts, hips driving into him hard enough to echo the slap of their pelvises throughout the room. A large palm wraps around him with it, stroking in the same rhythm. A few more pulls and Seokmin’s shooting off between them with a scream.
His body trembles with oversensitivity as Mingyu works towards his own release. Worried eyes meet his tired ones, a question in their blink. Seokmin gives the boy a lazy smile, encourages him along with another clench even though it makes his cock give a painful jerk.
Mingyu gets the memo, building his thrusts up again. He’s frantic now, hips grinding more than thrusting. Another clench and he falters, muscles tensing as he groans.
The room’s filled with quiet pants as they flop together, Mingyu half on top of him. Seokmin’s body is absolutely drenched in sweat. The furnace-like heat of Mingyu’s body isn’t helping. Still, he can’t find it in him to shove him off. He’s pretty sure he got every last brain cell fucked out of him. Please get back to him in three to five business days, thank you.
“I hope your neighbors weren’t home.” Mingyu mumbles moments later. Seokmin freezes beneath his heft, turns wide eyes to a sleepy Mingyu. They stare together, twin expressions on their faces, before bursting into laughter. Mingyu complains all the while, claiming his body’s “too sore to laugh so hard, stop looking at me Seokmin-ah it makes me laugh more !”.
Minghao finds them like that later that night, shuffling his way into the shared bedroom with bleary eyes. He freezes at the sight of them tangled together, the pair of them unconscious with sleep. They’re still ass-naked. He scrunches his nose in disgust, nearly gags at the stench of sex in the room. With a sigh to himself, he quietly tugs a blanket over their bodies, clicks off the light, then heads to the window and pops it open as far as it can go.
He doesn’t realize Mingyu’s awake until he climbs into his bed, body jerking in shock as a pair of eyes gleam at him in the light of the moon. Minghao can see the unsurety on his face, the mental battling he’s waging. Minghao shakes his head, raises a finger to his lips. He grabs for his phone, types a text out. Mingyu catches on, long arms able to grab his phone from Seokmin’s bedside table without jostling the other boy.
Seok’s Roommate
Just stay here. Don’t leave now. You’ll hurt him if you do.
Minghao watches him hesitate, face lit up with the glow of his phone screen. His fingers move slowly. Minghao’s phone lights up a moment later.
Seokmin’s Newest Mistake
Okay
That’s it? Minghao rolls his eyes, fingers flying across the screen. This idiot needs guidance, or else he’s going to fuck this all up, he just feels it.
Seok’s Roommate
If you really want to leave in the morning, leave a note saying your baseball Coach called you for a meeting. It’s believable enough for him to buy it.
He sees Mingyu read it, huffs when all he does is click his phone off and lay back down.
In the morning, Seokmin’s met with a bright green sticky note as a goodbye. He’s still a little sad Mingyu didn’t wake him up, though he takes solace in the scribbled, “You looked too cute to wake up”. Plus, the entire thing is signed with a tiny heart at the end.
Minghao hides his pleased grin behind his morning cup of tea.
~~~~
Things slowly start to change between them after that night. Any lingering awkwardness previously shared has been all but snuffed out. Instead, it’s replaced by bashful grins and pink cheeks, at least when they’re off the field. On the field is pretty much the same save for more lingering glances.
“The entire team can tell you’re boning you know.” Soonyoung whispers to him at practice one day. Mingyu looks at him skeptically, is stunned silent at the sincerity on the other’s face. Safe to say he dials it down for the rest of the day, only complimenting Seokmin a few times, only speaking to him when necessary. He hopes its working, doesn’t even stop to consider the possible consequences of it until Seokmin’s pouting at him in the locker room after.
“Did I suck today or something?” He blurts once everyone’s left, even Coach. Mingyu’s face is marred with confusion. Where could the boy possibly get that from?
“No?” Mingyu responds. Seokmin’s face turns steely, arms crossing defensively over his chest. “Are you asking me or telling me?” he answers back. Mingyu falters, mind replaying the past few hours. Then it dawns on him. His arms fall to the side in defeat, legs trudging him over to Seokmin’s side. He cups the boy’s pouting cheeks in both palms, smacks a kiss right to the middle of his lips.
“Soonyoung said the others are starting to…catch on. I thought some distance could be good. Y’know, throw them off. You didn’t suck at all.”
A million words pop into Seokmin’s mind, a million questions. The biggest one being ‘why even hide something that’s not official?’. He bites them all back, chooses the humor route yet again.
“Well…how about I show you how much I can suck.” he simpers, already dropping to his knees. Mingyu’s pleased little laugh bounces off the locker room walls.
~~~
“Tell me why I came home yesterday to the sound of Girls’ Generation’s “Gee” blaring along with a whole slew of sex noises.”
Mingyu chokes on the bite of his pizza, glaring at Minghao while a giggling Soonyoung thumps at his back. Once the food is safely dislodged from his esophagus and he’s no longer facing the fear of death, Mingyu straightens up to frown at a smirking Minghao.
“There’s no way bro. No way you were boning to Gee. Please tell me you weren’t boning to Gee.” Seungcheol begs before he can even get a word in.
Jihoon grumbles a “Please stop saying ‘boning’” that makes Junhui cackle. Across from him Minghao continues to smirk, pleased as punch for the chaos he’s unleashed throughout their little gathering. Mingyu regrets ever befriending the other boy.
He hadn’t even intended on it, until he found out the guy Wonwoo’s apparently been pining after actually had a boyfriend. After a night spent comforting his friend with a few bottles of soju and a handful of tears, Wonwoo had resolved to ‘meet the fucker who stole my Junhui’. Of course, as fate would have it, the Junhui stealer was none-other-than Xu fucking Minghao, Seokmin’s roommate and apparent life-long best friend.
Needless to say, the second he’d met him Wonwoo had backed down easily enough. Mingyu figures he’ll be fine anyways, if the way Soonyoung’s been doting on him all night is anything to go by. Maybe now he’ll finally win the nearly ten years long bet he’s held with Seungcheol over the two of them.
When news got back to him that Junhui’s Minghao is also Seokmin’s Minghao, Mingyu was so flabbergasted he just had to share the news with Seokmin himself. One group-wide pizza night later and now the lot of them meet up regularly. Which means Minghao has full permission and plenty of opportunities to make Mingyu’s suffering his favorite pastime.
He’s just glad Seokmin’s late tonight, held up at a tutoring session.
The cackles and giggles are still a noisy wreck around him. Mingyu sighs and rubs the skin between his eyebrows.
“It came on on shuffle. What did you want me to do? Stop mid-sex to change it?”
“That’s what a normal person would do.” Jihoon cuts in. Minghao snaps his mouth shut, gives the shorter man an amused look from down the table. He returns it with a small grin. Great, the demon Xu Minghao has gotten Jihoon too.
“Should’ve made a separate sex playlist dude, rookie movie.” Junhui whistles from down the way. Mingyu tears furiously into his breadstick in lieu of answer. At least now Minghao’s blushing. He smirks at finally having some leverage over the other. That is, until he remembers Wonwoo. A quick glance has his shoulders sagging in relief though, the boy too busy being spoon-fed minestrone soup by a smiley Soonyoung to even notice the topic of conversation. Mingyu scrunches his nose at the sickening display of cuteness. God he hopes him and Seokmin are never like that.
Though they’d have to be actually dating to get to that point.
The thought leaves him more bitter than the horrible seltzer water the restaurant served him. Seriously, what’s with fancier restaurants never giving normal flat water. Its always seltzer, or full of lemon wedges. Mingyu just wants plain water, not fizzy bitterness or watered-down lemon. Ugh.
“Y’know, Gee isn’t that bad of a song to fuck to anyways.” he decides to say, half an effort to shut his friend’s teasing up and half a way to distract himself from his own sad thoughts. It works like a charm for at least some of it, a few of them turning to him in inquiry.
“Like, you can really get some rhythm in there during the chorus.” He adds, singing some of it (poorly) with a smarmy demonstration.
Which of course is when Seokmin rounds the corner.
“What.” he says, voice flat with shock. Mingyu freezes mid hip thrust, looks up at him with wide eyes. Seokmin crosses his arms, movement pulling the woolen sleeves of his herringbone peacoat taut. He looks like a disapproving mom. Mingyu craves for the sweet release of death.
The managers threaten to throw them out for how ear-splitting their boom of laughter is.
~~~
Seok’s Roommate?
Did you know Seokmin’s the lead in the Spring musical??
Mingyu’s mind boggles at the text on screen. He’d just been in the middle of a Netflix binge, lounging around his dorm shirtless in a pair of boxers. They had a hole in the crotch and a rip on the thigh. They were so thin it felt like he was naked when he wore them. He absolutely refused to part with them, no matter how much each bare thread kept pleading for mercy.
He was planning on finishing off this series, maybe jack it to the memory of his last hookup with Seokmin. In all honesty he was a little lonely, a little bored. It was a Friday, and he’d originally wanted to ask Seokmin to hang out that night, maybe grab some dinner and go back to his place. That is, until the boy turned him down. He’d said he “already had plans” and apologized about five different times. He’d even kissed Mingyu goodbye once the locker rooms cleared out. Mingyu had decided not to dwell on it, nor on the sting of rejection in his chest. Whatever Seokmin’s reason, it’d seemed genuine.
Still, it left him alone and bitchless on a Friday night (Soonyoung’s words). He’d felt a little lame actually. Though that didn’t stop him from rejecting the boy’s tentative offer to join him and the other’s at some house party that night. It was hosted by a kid named Jackson, a boy so infamous he has his own fan pages. The last time Mingyu went to one of his parties he’d taken a body shot off Jeon Jeongguk, fucked him in the bathroom, and passed out in a pool of his own cum and vomit. Not his…finest moment.
It was funny though, how Soonyoung didn’t push. Normally he’d try and convince Mingyu he needed to go to “get laid and let off some steam”. This time he’d stopped after the first “no”. Mingyu doesn’t know whether his friend’s suddenly having some sort of epiphany and learning boundaries after all these years or he just assumed Mingyu would be hanging out with Seokmin. If he had to guess, he’d go with the latter.
Now though, Mingyu’s left reeling. Minghao barely texts him, new tentative friendship between them not withstanding. The few times he has have either been the initial warning that first night, or him asking where Seokmin is and whether he’s with him--the boy has a bad habit of not telling his roommate that he won’t be back until late. Mingyu’s already had an angry looking Xu Minghao on the other side of his dorm door more than once, the boy’s bitch face boring holes into Mingyu’s sweaty skin, a whining, flushed Seokmin waiting impatiently on his bed. Good memories.
So for him to text Mingyu a) out of the blue and b) with something benign as this…its still coming off as suspicious.
He sends back a mere three question marks and waits.
Seok’s Roommate: Minghao
He didn’t tell you did he?
Mingyu sighs. If this is the other boy trying to brag about being closer with Seokmin, Mingyu isn’t even going to try and fight it. They grew up together, Mingyu will never win that battle. And he hates how smug Minghao always is about it.
Seok’s Newest Mistake
No? Why’s it matter?
A text comes through almost immediately after.
Seok’s Roommate: Minghao
Oh well I suppose it doesn’t.
Suppose? With a period at the end? Seriously, this guy texts like a Victorian maiden. Is he writing Mingyu a letter from war-torn England? Is he going to tell him he has the Bubonic Plague next? He tamps down the urge to throw his phone clean across the room and once again sends back another string of question marks, this time adding a fourth.
Seok’s Roommate: Minghao
He’s at the theater practicing tonight. Opening night is next week. In case you were wondering.
Mingyu pauses at the words. Is Minghao…being nice to him right now?!
Mistake Mingyu
- Ty you for telling me!
Minghao
…YW
Mingyu can practically sense the other’s eye roll through the screen. He doesn’t even care if his response was clearly mocking, he just saved Mingyu a night full of moping. Though a new questions pop into his mind.
Why hasn’t Seokmin told him any of this?
~~~
Mingyu broaches the question at their next practice.
“So, a little birdy told me you’re the lead in the Spring musical?” Mingyu tries. Seokmin falters mid-pitch, ball veering left and straight into Seungcheol’s left ass cheek. The sheer recoil of its landing spot sends it flying back towards Seokmin, the boy cowering away with a yelp. Thankfully it misses him, landing somewhere near second base in the grass. Mingyu probably should’ve waited to ask this after practice.
“I--uh? Who?” Seokmin stutters out. Vernon pitters his way towards him, handing the ball off. Seokmin takes it with one of his signature sunny grins. Vernon gives him a gummy one right back, then glances at Mingyu with a quick smirk. He can only begin to wonder what the fuck that means.
“Minghao.” Mingyu answers. “Try the underhand again.”. Seokmin gapes for a few seconds before falling back into himself, following the instruction easily enough. He lands a perfect underhand toward where Soonyoung is crouched as catcher.
“I didn’t realize you and Hao were on texting terms.” Mingyu snorts.
“I didn’t either. He sent it out of nowhere the other night.” Seokmin boggles at him. Mingyu shrugs. Soonyoung throws the ball back right into Seokmin’s mitt.
“Corkscrew?” Seokmin offers. Mingyu nods, watches the boy’s body tense up in anticipation of the pitch. He nails it again, though this time Soonyoung’s left scrambling right to catch it. Mingyu giggles when he falls on his ass.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the musical, let alone the lead?” Mingyu whispers. Coach is looking over at them oddly. Mingyu pretends to write a note on his clipboard, (its actually a heart with his and Seokmin’s initials in it but shh no one needs to know) then looks back up, waves it at the man. It appears to appease him for the time being, the older man going back to barking orders at a beaming Vernon. Mingyu swears the only time he ever sees that kid animated is when he’s out on the field. Other than that its stone-solid male model face. His genetics are truly unreal.
Mingyu realizes Seokmin’s gone silent. A quick glance at him leaves him surprised. His face looks weirdly…bitter.
“It just didn’t seem like the type of thing to bring up with your…with us.” he finally responds, throwing a grounder at Soonyoung without prompting. He nails it again. Mingyu isn’t the least bit surprised. He is surprised by his words though. What the hell is that supposed to mean? His confusion must translate from brain to face, because Seokmin scoffs.
“We don’t really talk about much outside of like…baseball, Mingyu-ah. That and…” he trails off, leans in, “fucking.” he adds in a whisper.
Mingyu stutters through a series of responses. He isn’t even sure what to say. He can’t exactly tell Seokmin he’s wrong, can he? It feels like the world moves beneath his feet with a lurch. Has he been unknowingly shooting himself in the foot this entire time? He’s going to fix this.
“Well then let’s fix that. Tonight after practice. You, me, some food and like…a game of twenty questions.” Mingyu says at the exact time Coach and Vernon walk by. The duo give him twin looks of confusion. Mingyu burns under their attention.
“I…you know what. I don’t care. Its better than you going at each other’s throats.” The older man sighs out.
Next to him, Vernon smirks. “I don’t know Coach. I think they’re just going at each other’s throats in a different way.” Seokmin and Mingyu both give him looks of betrayal. Vernon merely snickers. That is, until Coach lets out a groan.
“Chwe Vernon, your batting average isn’t nearly high enough for me to not consider kicking you off this team.” he grumbles, heading off toward left field. Vernon scrambles after him, a series of apologies falling frantically from his lips.
Mingyu shares a snort with Seokmin, lets him throw another three pitches before hedging in with a “Well? What do you say?”
Seokmin glances at him over his shoulder, throws a freehand then straightens up. “Okay.” he beams.
Mingyu beams right back.
~~~
“Blue is such a boring favorite color.” Seokmin whines. Mingyu pouts at him. “Fine, what’s your favorite then? Fuschia?”
“Yeah, actually.” Seokmin agrees, head tilting back to get the last dreg of his beer. Mingyu waves down the waiter then, orders them another round while ignoring Seokmin’s protests. He’s already been huffy over the taller saying he’s going to pay for this whole meal. Mingyu refuses to back down though.
They’ve ended up at one of the barbeque places near campus, the smell of grilling meat and warmth of hot plates abundant around them. The place is booming for a Friday night--not unexpected when you’re located right by one of the biggest universities. Mingyu’s thankful they were able to get a table. If he tilts to the left he can see the beginnings of the long line of people still waiting by the door.
“You’re definitely bullshitting me now.” Mingyu accuses, pointing a finger right into Seokmin’s face. The boy fake bites at it, giggles when Mingyu snatches it away. “Fine.” he concedes, “My favorite color is red.”
“Really?” Mingyu grins, Seokmin nods along. “You must love our uniforms then huh.” he teases.
“Maybe I do.” Seokmin sniffs.
With each piece of meat shared, each poured drink, conversation flows between them. What starts out as tame questions--where is your hometown, do you have siblings, quickly devolves into chaos--least favorite organ in the body (Mingyu chooses liver, since his nearly killed him in the accident, Seokmin picks the stomach-”I’m always hungry! I could save so much money if it behaved!), most embarrassing drinking story (Mingyu chooses the Jeongguk one again, Seokmin recounts the time he got so drunk he ended up crying hysterically to a “Top Ten Sexiest Baseball Players” compilation).
Through it all they steadily learn about one another, discovering their similarities, their differences, what makes them tick. Eventually Mingyu finds himself asking about the musical.
“Wait so you’re a theater major ?” Mingyu gasps a little when Seokmin nods. The drunken flush on his cheeks turns deeper. “A literature one too…I double major.” he adds, turning sheepish under Mingyu’s gape. “Why? Is it that surprising?”
“No…I just…I figured you were majoring in something…” he trails off.
“Something sporty?” Seokmin giggles when Mingyu nods. “I love baseball, don’t get me wrong. And for a while I did dream about going to the majors but during high school one of my teachers caught me singing to myself. I was helping clean one of the rooms for my favorite teacher, and didn’t realize she’d come back. When she heard me she wouldn’t stop bugging me to try out for choir. After that the choir director talked about me so much to the theater director they ended up wheedling me to audition for the Winter musical.”
“And the rest is history.” Seokmin nods. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“I’ve never heard you sing though.” Mingyu points out. Seokmin picks shyly at his napkin. “I’ll have to sing for you sometime then.” he says more to the scraps on his plate than to Mingyu himself. He decides not to push, offers up his own olive branch.
“You show me, and i’ll show you some of my photography.” The offer gets Seokmin beaming. It was one of the many things they’d learned about each other throughout the meal, Mingyu’s photographic hobby. Seokmin had said he shared a similar love, had always wanted to try it but didn’t know where to start.
“Sounds like a plan.”
~~~
It starts gradually, so gradually Mingyu doesn’t really notice it at first. One of the first times it happens is during the planned singing-photography trade off with Seokmin. They’d met on a Sunday in mid-morning, the pair of them free from other obligations during the daytime for once. Mingyu had picked up the other from his dorm on foot, had ignored the smirk Minghao sent him as he waited in their tiny dorm suite’s foyer. The boy, newly pink-haired, was perched on their cramped university-issued couch, curled up with a book that had a cover in Mandarin. Mingyu had swayed foot to foot under his stare. When he tried to make small talk, all he got was a snort.
Seokmin saved him quickly enough after, the boy tumbling out of his room in a devastating little outfit. The top was pink, almost in the style of a pullover sweatshirt. The material was fuzzy like a warm sweater, with bold white writing across the chest. Seokmin paired it with loose-legged jeans. He’d even done something to his hair, the strands laying parted in the middle with slight waves. Mingyu couldn’t wait to take pictures of him. Even if he told the boy they’d be photographing the cherry blossoms instead.
It happened while they were at the park, taking pictures of said cherry blossoms. Mingyu was behind Seokmin, chin resting on the shoulder of his coat. The wool was soft against his skin, ticklish where it rubbed. Mingyu had his arms reached around Seokmin from behind, hands resting on his own while he talked him through the camera settings. Suddenly, a pain shot up his left arm, making it numb. He’d gone weak with it, hand dropping to the side. Thankfully Seokmin had the camera in his grasp, red strap around his neck too. Or else the thousand dollar gadget would have laid victim to the bumpy gravel beneath their feet.
“You okay?” Seokmin frets, looking Mingyu over. He’s rubbing at the sore spot, relief filling him when feeling returns. He opens and closes his left hand, squeezes his fingers to the palm and fans them out.
“Yeah, yeah sorry. I’m good.” He smiles, though its the slightest bit strained. “Let me see you try a shot.” he adds as a distraction. Seokmin takes the bait, tongue poking out of his mouth cutely as he poses himself, hands angled toward the canopies of pink-colored trees above them.
The same feeling happens again later, when Mingyu leads Seokmin into a noraebang. It was his idea--a casual way for Seokmin to show off his skills. It’d been going amazingly, the boy incredibly talented. Mingyu had been stunned silent for five minutes straight after the other’s first song. Seokmin had turned beet red, whined like a little baby when Mingyu started videoing his next one.
When it was Mingyu’s turn it happens again. He’s halfway through his song--Lose Yourself by Eminem because why the fuck not--when the feeling returns. Suddenly, the loud shriek of the microphone fills the small room, the device dropped to the ground when Mingyu’s arm goes numb for the second time. He manages to play the entire thing off as a bout of clumsiness.
Seokmin’s overall cuteness is enough to distract him, mind forgetting it all once the night ends.
~~~
Mingyu can only put the weird happenings out of his mind for so long. He’s been a master at ignoring things with the hope that they go away for years. The problem with this one is it isn’t going away. No, no, it’s actually getting worse.
One day he wakes up, in Seokmin’s bed of all places, and blearily tries to reach for his phone. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep--certainly hadn’t meant to stay the night--but the sex was so mind-altering he’d knocked the fuck out after. This time he hadn’t even woken up when Minghao got back. And, unlike last time, Mingyu finds himself less anxious over the idea of sticking around. He only hopes Seokmin is just as chill about it when he wakes.
Mingyu never really gets to find out, as it turns out. Because when he tries to reach for his phone, he finds he can barely lift his arm. Panic overtakes him, the rational section of his brain begging it to relax. Mingyu breathes in through his nose, one, two, out through his mouth, three, four. Then, he tries to lift his arm again. He gets maybe an inch of movement from it, appendage falling back against his body with a thump. Even worse, the small bit of activity he does get is excruciating . So much so that he promptly startles both Seokmin and Minghao awake with the sound of his groan.
“Mingyu? Gyu-ie? Whas’ wrong?” Seokmin slurs out, head darting up from his pillow. Across the room, Minghao’s muffled, “I swear to god if you guys are fucking over there I will disown both of you and burn all your clothes in the weird hippie kids’ bonfire pit” is grumbled along with it. Mingyu ignores it in favor of cooing over Seokmin’s bedhead. Until he tries to reach up to run his hand through it and reality sets in.
“ Fuck .” Mingyu whimpers, right hand flying up to rub over his burning shoulder. Seokmin scrambles for his glasses, knocks his phone clean off the nightstand while he does. He pulls them on just as Minghao stomps his way over.
“How can you two fuck while i’m in the roo--oh. You’re not fucking.” The ire leaks out of him, sleepy confusion left in its wake. Mingyu levels him with an ember-hot glare.
“No we’re not fucking.” he bites. “The only thing that’s fucking is me, fucking in pain .”
Minghao’s stunned momentarily. Seokmin is an anxious mess. Mingyu flits his eyes between them before falling back to the pillows dramatically.
“W-what should we do?” He hears Seokmin ask.
“Um…hospital?” Minghao returns.
~~~
Three hours of waiting, two different imagings--CT and an X-ray, and a bunch of blood work the cheery-faced ER nurse had called “rainbow labs” later, Mingyu’s staring out the window of Seokmin’s passenger seat, the candy red Toyota bouncing along the highway. They’d gotten into the car in silence, have driven the last ten minutes in silence. Minghao had even kept all his words to himself for once, sitting stoically in the back seat. Mingyu can feel his nervous gaze boring holes into the back of his skull.
The doctors had sent the report over to his orthopedic doc, his surgeon, his physical therapist. The one on-site at the hospital had called it a faulty joint, said scar tissue had grown over where he was reattached. It’d put so much force on his shoulder it’d popped from the socket. The doctor had tried with all his might to shove Mingyu’s arm back where it belonged. It was painful. It was nauseating. And most of all, it was moot.
Now he has the courtesy of being carted across town by his supremely anxious not-boyfriend and his prickly roommate, so he can have an emergency visit with his ortho surgeon.
When they reach the stark white building Mingyu gets out before Seokmin can even cut the ignition. “I can--can call Cheol to pick me up or something. Or take an Uber. You don’t need to wait.”
Seokmin scoffs and shakes his head at the same time as Minghao’s easy, “Okay.”. The pair engage in a stare-off then, an entire conversation being held with their eyes through the rearview mirror. Mingyu watches it all while his foot taps impatiently. His left arm is bundled against his chest with a shiny new sling. Thankfully he’d been loaded up with local anesthetic at the hospital before they tried popping his joint back in, or else he knows he’d be doubled over right now with the way the hold is tugging at him.
Minghao lets out a long suffering sigh. “Mingyu, don’t be ridiculous. We’re already here, the appointment shouldn't take forever. We’ll wait with you.” he says like each word burns on its way out. Mingyu looks nervously between the pair, Seokmin already turning the keys and climbing out. It takes Minghao another moment to follow, but he does eventually. For the first time all morning, Mingyu finds his lips doing something other than frown.
“Does this waiting room serve coffee?” Minghao mumbles. Seokmin bumps shoulders with him, and follows Mingyu inside.
~~~
“You realize after this i’m really gonna nag you to properly define your situationship right?” Minghao says the moment Mingyu’s taken back by the nurse. He gulps down a long swig of his scalding cheap instant coffee with a grimace. Seokmin’s already googling directions to the closest Starbucks. He pauses his search (there’s one only a block away!) to slowly look up at his friend. He gulps at Minghao’s stern glare.
“But--”
“You dragged not only yourself but me out of our dorm at nine AM on a Saturday to not only the hospital but a fuckin’ doctor’s office all because of this guy.” He bites. Seokmin is rightfully abashed at the reminder, crosses his legs in the hard waiting room chair, and stares at the soap opera playing grittily on the small TV across from them. An ad comes up then for a fried chicken chain. His stomach gives a pitiful grumble. In their rush that morning, none of them had had even a crumb of breakfast. They hadn’t even showered. Seokmin’s pretty sure his shirt’s on backwards. It was…a mess.
“Oh so you would just kick a guy to the curb if he woke up in your bed nearly paralyzed in one arm?” Seokmin grouches. He’s already Uber Eats-ing them plus Mingyu Starbucks--a muffin and caramel frappucino each. He supposes his bank account can take the hit this month.
Minghao rolls his eyes but keeps quiet. Seokmin smirks to himself, checking off a mental tally next to his name. So far, he has one point, Minghao zero.
“You clearly like him Seok-ah.” he adds later. Its been maybe half an hour since Mingyu was taken to the exam room and Seokmin hasn’t heard a single word from the boy. He hopes against hope that everything’s okay. They’d gotten their food, delivered by a kind, baby-faced boy named Chan. Minghao had given him a ten thousand Won cash tip. Seokmin swears the kid teared up a little. On the seat next to him is an intact frappe, an untouched muffin. He hopes Mingyu returns soon. Not only because the drink will turn to straight flavored water if he takes any longer, but Seokmin also has to do laundry. And homework.
But also because he’s so, so very worried about Mingyu’s well-being.
“Okay, so?” Seokmin pouts at his exasperated friend. Across from them the grainy cable drama reaches its peak, the girl on screen proclaiming, ‘I love him! I love him like the sea loves the moon. He causes waves within me. But what if I don’t do the same for him? What if he’s the sun, and we’re destined to always be apart?’. Seokmin swallows against a sudden ache building in his throat.
“So you should tell him. He very obviously has feelings for you too.” Minghao tries. Seokmin stares across from him in the chilly waiting room, sounds of a crying child in the distance, smell of antiseptic in his nose. His heart thumps painfully against his ribs. “And before you try and fight me--” Minghao starts, making him close his mouth with an audible clack. “Why would I, your best friend, tell you to do something if I thought you’d get hurt in the process?”
Seokmin finds he can’t really debate with that.
“Just trust me on this Seokmin-ah.” he whispers.
Mingyu returns before Seokmin can respond. His face is blotchy, eyes red-rimmed. It sets Seokmin immediately on edge, the boy springing out of the seat so quickly it slams backward against the wall.
“I have to have another surgery.” Mingyu mumbles.
Seokmin gathers him into his arms and squeezes tight.
~~~
Mingyu’s surgery falls in the middle of midterms (cruel, he knows) yet that stops none of his friends from seeing him right after. He’s admitted once its over, held for a night under observation to make sure nothing adverse happens. He’s not exactly thrilled about it, being back in the setting only unleashes a pandora’s box of memories he’d been working so tirelessly to repress. But he’s not surprised, nor is he unable to cope. He spent his fair share of time here, its almost a second home to him at this point.
Seungcheol’s the first one to see him when he’s out, after he’s brought up to his room for the night by a kind transporter named Minwon. He’d been extra gentle when he turned corners, told Mingyu he’d give him a “smooth ride” so he wouldn’t jostle his shoulder. It was a fragile thing after all, wrapped up with gauze and ace bandages, smelling heavily of iodine. Mingyu wrinkled his nose every time he turned his head in its direction.
“You look rough bro.”
“Thanks bro.” Mingyu mumbles. His brain feels like its in a vat of maple syrup, sticky, heavy and slow. Seungcheol takes a seat by the bed, reaches up to ruffle gently at this hair. Its something he used to do all the time when they were kids--he’d stopped as they’d gotten older. Feeling it again makes Mingyu weirdly nostalgic.
Machines beep around them, a mess of wires attached to his chest and hands to monitor his vitals. His heartbeat pulses away on screen, the wiggly lines of his O2 rising and falling in rhythm. Mingyu watches them, the sight oddly relaxing. Soon, his eyelids begin to droop. Next to him, Seungcheol texts away on his phone. Mingyu wonders when the others will show up.
The nurse comes to see him before the rest of their friends do, asking him to rate his pain on a ten point scale. Mingyu takes stock of himself, tells her “Two”. She leaves him for the time being. Mingyu drifts after, in and out of consciousness, until he’s woken up by the surgeons returning. They poke and prod at him, make him lift his arm above his head even though it causes him to whine loud enough to freak even Seungcheol out.
Mingyu wants to murder them when they start rotating it.
He knows realistically that its necessary, that they need to mobilize him after so everything doesn’t heal stiff. That it’s a precaution to make sure everything’s in working order. The knowledge doesn't stop it from feeling like he’s being sliced with a hot knife from the inside out though.
Luckily the same nurse returns moments after, asking about his pain again. Mingyu grits out a “ten” and she leaves, comes back a few minutes later with a syringe and a couple saline flushes. Mingyu watches with teary eyes as she stops his fluids for a second, clears the line. Then, he’s filled with the slow warmth of some sort of pain med, head beginning to swim as it hits his system. He relaxes onto the lumpy mattress with a sigh of relief.
Its what does him in later though, the pain med he learns to be morphine making him delirious with its power.
Seokmin shows up with Minghao in tow, joining the rest of his friends that showed up…sometime earlier (he has zero clue when) at the bedside. Mingyu blinks blearily up at him. “You--you’re pretty.” he slurs. Their friends freeze along with Seokmin. Soonyoung stealthily eases his phone out of his pocket and hits record.
Seokmin approaches the bed slowly, takes Seungcheol’s offered seat with a grateful smile. He grabs Mingyu’s hand after he sits, thumb caressing carefully over it. Mingyu squeezes him with a dopey grin on his face.
“You didn’t get temporary amnesia did you?” Seokmin teases, giggling when Mingyu clumsily shakes his head. “Nuh-uh.” he denies, “Could never f’get you even i-if I tried.”
Seokmin tries to fight down the amused grin threatening to break across his face. Who knew Kim Mingyu could be so cute?
His nurse returns then, visibly balking at the sheer number of people crammed into his small room. Thankfully its at least a private one. He has no idea how they’d manage if he had to share it with a roommate.
She logs into the computer, cycles through the vitals on the monitor attached to his chest. At one point she accidentally stumbles into Seokmin, apologizing profusely while the boy waves her off. The brilliant grin he sends her makes the beeps of Mingyu’s heart rate audibly speed up on screen. Later he’ll replay the memory of it in his mind with an embarrassed grimace. For now he’s far too loopy and in-like (love) to care.
The nurse zeroes in on their locked hands then, eyes flickering over his wound dressing and downward before she stops. Her gaze makes Seokmin nervous. He almost wants to break their embrace, but Mingyu only squeezes him tighter when he tries.
“Mingyu-ssi, is this your…?” She trails off. Seokmin’s sure she means well. She’s probably only a few years older than them all. Between that, her violet colored hair, and vibrant tattoo sleeves, Seokmin isn’t too worried about the consequences of answering her honestly. If only the answer to it was so simple.
“He’s muh--my friend!” Mingyu beams. “A special friend.” He ‘whispers’, though all it really is is the same volume of voice mixed in with some spittle. His words make Seokmin flush beet red. The nurse does much of the same. Seokmin hopes she’s almost finished with him; or that Mingyu’s finished sharing secrets at least.
But it seems Mingyu wants to keep talking.
“I wish he was my boyfriend.” He sighs, shooting the nurse a wobbly wry grin. “I really like him.” Next to him, Seokmin gapes.
“That’s really…nice Mingyu-ssi.” she smiles, eyes flickering to Seokmin in concern. He gives her a strained grin, nods when she tells them all she’ll be “Back in a little while to take his vitals again. Let me know if you need anything!”.
By the time she’s finished her adieu, Mingyu’s already fast asleep in bed. Seokmin still doesn’t let go of his hand.
“Believe me now, Seok-ah?” Minghao calls from his place on the couch. Seokmin’s surprised they’ve managed to fit four people on the tiny grey loveseat. It’d be impressive any other time, but he’s too much of a mess at the moment to appreciate it.
“You got that on video right?” He hears Seugcheol whisper.
“Hell yeah.” Soonyoung grins.
Seokmin’s phone vibrates in his pants pocket. Pulling it out greets him with a copy of the video sent to their groupchat. All the others have already “loved” it. Seokmin locks the screen with a sigh.
Mingyu snuffles in bed, a quiet snore breaking free. Seokmin gazes over at him with eyes full of red-rose affection.
~~~
They don’t talk about it. Seokmin waits it out for what feels like ages. Mingyu recovers slowly and seems to have no memory of what he said when he was delirious off pain meds. Either that or he’s pretending he doesn’t. Seokmin doesn’t have the courage to call him on it.
Things fall into place as the days wear on. Mingyu coaches tentatively from the sidelines, left arm treated like an injured baby bird. Gone are the days of imitating poses and pitches; Seokmin never really needed the demonstrations anyways.
The only thing that has seemed to change though is their…situationship. Its only grown deeper since the surgery, lines between them blurred and hazy at the edges. There’s still no official label, no printed sticker smacked across them proclaiming “Relationship!”. Seokmin still finds himself with words tucked beneath his ribs, under his tongue. He’s almost referred to Mingyu as his boyfriend ten different times now. Each falter hurts deeper than the last.
“You’re in a weird limbo.” Minghao explains matter-of-factly. “You’re the only ones that can pull each other out of it.”
Seokmin’s never been one to grab life by the balls. He’d much rather take any shred of a situation he can salvage than try and tear it to pieces by changing anything. He’s content with mediocrity sometimes. Who needs a whole when the half is already just as good?
Its what he tells himself whenever Mingyu smiles at him, holds his hand when they’re out. What he repeats like a mantra during every not-date they go on, screams to himself when Mingyu wipes sauce from his lips for him, lends him his hoodies on lazy nights, stares longingly into his eyes while they cum.
Lee Seokmin: perpetual glass half-full.
~~~
Mingyu used to do parties, before everything changed.
“‘Do parties’” Soonyoung mocks. “That’s one way to put it you wreck.”
Mingyu pouts at him in his rearview mirror. He ignores Seokmin’s snickers from the passenger seat for his own sanity and peace of mind.
“Seok-ah, people used to throw parties just in the hopes Mingyu would show up.” Soonyoung conspires from the backseat. Seokmin turns to look at him with an intrigued grin. Mingyu uses Soonyoung’s god-awful tiger print steering wheel cover as a makeshift stress ball. Why the boy made Mingyu drive his car is beyond him.
“Like a goddamn Daisy circa The Great Gatsby.” Jihoon sighs, shaking his head. His face is a disapproving mask, eyes far away like he’s replaying the previous year’s messy events in his mind. Mingyu winces to himself. His short hyung always did get saddled with the responsibility of corralling Mingyu once the nights ended. He’s thrown up on the boy’s shoes more than once. Mingyu makes a mental note to get him an extra nice birthday present this year.
His comment makes the others snort though, Seokmin’s the loudest of them all. He reaches a hand out and smacks it with glee onto Mingyu’s thigh. The taller gives him a fake pout in return, even though the gesture actually made him feel like he’s roasting alive. He files that information away for much, much later.
“You didn’t tell me you had such a…sordid past.” Seokmin’s eyebrows wiggle suggestively. Mingyu whines at him, turns the radio up on purpose to drown out all the examples his comment is pulling from his friend’s mouths.
He nearly crashes the damn car when Soonyoung starts playing some videos.
~~~
“Not a big party guy?” Mingyu finds himself saying later that night. The words are a little slurred at the edges, though not incredibly so. Mingyu hasn’t been too much of a drinker since the accident. Plus, he’d lost sight of Seokmin a mere ten minutes into the party. He was too dead-set on finding him to bother getting toasted. When he’s drunk, the chance of him doing anything other than embarrassing himself is slim, he’d never find the boy if he gave into Soonyoung’s shot requests.
It took two laps around the large house without success for his eyes to finally catch on the sliding glass door tucked into the corner of the kitchen. A quick glance through it and he was letting out a quiet “A-ha!”, pushing his way outside. He’d found Seokmin sitting on the wooden steps, hands wrapped around what Mingyu’s ninety-nine percent sure is still the first bottle of beer that was handed off to him earlier. Its only missing a few sips.
Mingyu settles down next to him, scoots closer--when asked he’ll say its to share body heat, Seokmin hadn’t worn his coat outside and neither did he. They shiver together, pressed together in the dimly lit backyard.
“Ahh not really.” Seokmin admits. He gives Mingyu a quick glance, smirks at the unfocused edge he can see in his eyes. He guesses the taller boy had no qualms getting started without him. He tries to not let the observation get to him. Keyword is ‘tries’. The way his mouth tangs over with bitterness tells him he’s failed.
“Why did you agree to come?” Mingyu asks. He makes it as quiet and soft a question as his tipsy mind can, not wanting to come across accusatory. In all honesty this may be his fault, he was the one who asked Seokmin to tag along. He’d thought it be a nice change from their Netflix and chill type deal, the couch cuddles with a box of pizza between them. And a part of him wanted to see if going to parties again was something worth starting up. Sitting here now, he can’t really say he misses them all that much.
“I dunno…bonding?” Seokmin says around a grin. Mingyu giggles at him, shakes his head a little. “It seemed like you wanted to go, so I figured i’d give it a shot.” he shrugs. “I think i’m just too much an introvert for these kind of things.” Admitting it sparks up a little flame of fear in him. Its bad enough he still doesn’t know where he stands with Mingyu, and now he’s over here emphasizing all their differences? Will someone as bright and extroverted as Kim Mingyu really want to saddle themselves with someone as quiet and shy as Seokmin, someone who prefers to spend their Fridays in front of the TV instead of out getting drunk with strangers?
Surprisingly, Mingyu only coos at him. “Aw Seok, you could have said no. I wouldn’t have minded.”
“No?”
“Nope.” Mingyu smiles. With a warm palm he grabs the beer from Seokmin’s hand, places it on the step next to him. Freed up, he laces their fingers together, letting the heat of his skin spread to the chill the beer bottle left behind. Seokmin smiles at him for it. Mingyu really wants to feel the curve of it. ‘Fuck it’ he thinks. The shape grows wider across his lips, until Mingyu can barely kiss him from it. He pulls away with a giggle, rests his forehead against Seokmin’s own.
“Wanna get out of here?” he whispers. Seokmin’s bright grin is answer enough.
With an “oof’ and a crack of all his joints, Mingyu pulls himself up. Seokmin follows, their hands still gripped tight together. He leads Mingyu through the house easily, guiding him slowly to make sure he doesn’t slam into everyone. He’s always been a serial texter-walker, and now is no different. Though this time he figures its justified--he can feel his own phone vibrating against his thigh--Mingyu presumably texting their groupchat to tell them they’re heading out. Seokmin worries for a moment about how the others will get home, though a quick check of his phone once they’re out front calms his fears.
Mingurri
Hey you guys good if me and Seok head out? Not really feeling it. Gonna Uber home. I’ll help you pick your car up tomorrow @ soonyoung
TigerYoung
mor lik u wannnna laeve an feel eahch othr *winky emoji* *winky emoji* *eggplant emoji*
Jihoon
Is that supposed to be coherent? ^
Scoops
Oh boy Soonyoung’s only got like an hour left before he passes out
Jihoon
You and Jeonghan can take him home
Scoops
Too busy with someone else Jihoonie?
Seokmin raises his eyebrow at the text. As far as he knew, Jihoon was practically a monk. He doesn't think the older boy has expressed any attraction in anyone ever. He shoots a questioning look to Mingyu, the boy looks just as lost as him.
Jihoon
Don’t make me bring up the thong Choi Seungcheol
Scoops
Did I say something? Whoops sorry guys Jihoon has never liked anyone! Nope. He doesn’t even have the part of his brain needed for attraction. He’s actually dick-less, smooth down there like a Barbie doll
Mingurri
Can someone please just answer my question? Can someone PLEASE just answer my question?
Scoops
I’ll catch a ride with Hannie. Hoonie can either come with me or his…friend.
Jihoon
Pink. Lace.
Scoops
Hoonie will be riding with me and Hannie cos no one else exists in his life. Absolutely not.
Jihoon
Wonwoo’s already somewhere with Soonyoung. They’ll probably crash here somewhere.
Wonwoo
Affirmative
Mingyu rolls his eyes at the emotionless text. For a second there he was actually worried Wonwoo wasn’t doing his “observing but not interacting” schtick. He clicks his phone shut, sends a smile to Seokmin, when it happens.
A guy bursts out of the front door, steps stumbling with clear drunkenness. Mingyu watches him closely, is worried the guy’s about to eat shit and slam to the ground. Seokmin catches on too, concerned pinch to his eyes at they trace the man’s steps. Then, to Seokmin’s horror, and Mingyu’s absolute rage, a car unlocks nearby with a beep. The man heads towards it, makes a jagged line around the front to climb into the driver’s seat. Mingyu sees red.
Seokmin rushes after his boyf--after his-- after Mingyu as he stomps over to the tipsy mystery man.
Mingyu wrenches the man’s driver side door open, ignores his shocked words and shouts right over them. “Are you fucking insane?!” The guy practically cowers in his seat. “You can’t even walk straight yet you think you can somehow drive? You trying to kill someone?!”
“Mingyu--” Seokmin breathes out. He reaches a hand towards him, curls it cover his shoulder. A hurt frown shocks onto his face when it gets shrugged off.
“D-dude I gotta--gotta go home.” The man stutters. Mingyu gives him a laugh completely devoid of any humor. Seokmin’s the one cowering now. He feels like he barely recognizes the man in front of him.
“Well ‘dude’ ” Mingyu mocks, air quotes cutting and jerky with rage, “There’s a million different rideshare options out there now. Fuck, you can even have the cops pick you up and drive you home without any questions asked. But you want to choose this? Potentially break up an entire family, or…or ruin someone’s life?! Their dreams?!”
Seokmin jumps in when Mingyu’s words turn hysterical, watery along the curve of them. Seokmin gasps when he draws a hand back, fist curled. Mingyu freezes the second he cries out his name.
“Mingyu! Come on. He’s not worth it.” Seokmin tries to soothe. Mingyu’s entire body slumps like a puppet cut from its strings. Seokmin eases the boy behind him, takes his place in front of the other man. His bleary eyes are running over with hot tears, entire form trembling like a scared little sheep. Seokmin tsks at him.
“What’s your address?” he asks, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans. The boy manages to rattle it off even in his state. Seokmin books him an Uber and waits with him until it shows up. Somewhere in there he turns to find Mingyu gone. He swallows the anxiety threatening to choke him and waits until the man is safely in the rideshare before starting his search. He doesn’t have to go far, thankfully. He finds Mingyu in the passenger seat of Soonyoung’s car, eyes staring despondently out the window. Seokmin climbs behind the wheel without a word.
The keys are already in the ignition, tiger plushie dangling off one end. It bobbles as he turns them, sways as the car starts moving. Mingyu is so pin-drop silent beside him Seokmin could forget he’s there if he closed his eyes.
The drive back to their dorm building feels endless. Seokmin breathes a sigh of relief once they reach it. Mingyu still says nothing as he climbs out, as he shoulders ahead of him inside. Seokmin follows him to his dorm, anxiety prickling through him. He debates on trailing him home the entire walk there--should he give the other space? Mingyu answers for him by leaving his door open after unlocking it. Seokmin heads in behind him, closes and locks it the place shut, then starts the familiar path to Mingyu’s bedroom.
Mingyu’s movements are jerky as he undresses, replacing his tight black jeans and grey turtleneck for red plaid pajamas. He leaves the top half bare. The scars littering his skin seem extra prominent tonight somehow. Though maybe that’s just Seokmin’s flighty mind.
He sways awkwardly from foot to foot as Mingyu goes through the motions. Seokmin really doesn’t want to sleep in jeans. He supposes he could strip down to his boxers, use Mingyu’s furnace body to sap heat. His thoughts fly out the window at the clothes handed to him--a pair of dark grey sweats and a white tee. Mingyu doesn’t even look at him as he passes them over.
Seokmin changes clothes quietly while Mingyu climbs into bed. The room is lit only by the moon glowing outside the window--the boy keeping the lights off from the time he entered the room. Seokmin hesitates at the bed’s edge after he changes. He’s sick over how unsure he feels, this eggshell walk he hasn’t had to do in months.
Mingyu scoots towards the wall, leaves a space open next to him in wordless invitation. Seokmin takes it without protest. He’s stunned when Mingyu closes the gap between them after he climbs in, the warm skin of him pressing a line along Seokmin’s body. After an anxious gulp, he laces his hands with the one wrapped around his waist.
A wet sniffle fills the room moments later, and suddenly Seokmin finds he can’t be silent anymore.
Slowly, he turns in the other’s hold, uses gentle hands to ease the boy’s face upward toward his. Mingyu blinks away a wave of fresh tears, lower lip wobbling with the force of his sadness. Seokmin makes a tiny disapproving sound, gathers Mingyu up against his chest and lets him shake wetness into his skin.
“I’m sorry.” Mingyu croaks out. Seokmin whines at the words. “What for?”
“I scared you back there. I was scary, back there. I was just so…so angry. I-I couldn’t let him ruin someone else’s life. Like…” he trails off into a sob.
“Like someone ruined yours?” Seokmin whispers between them. It makes Mingyu cry harder, body trembling even more. Seokmin coos at him, whispers sweet nothings until he finally stops breathing so hoarsely and haggard. Seokmin holds him even after its over.
“Thank you for drawing me back to myself.” Mingyu whispers after he’s calmed. Seokmin presses a long kiss to the very middle of his forehead.
“Always.” Seokmin promises, and means it.
~~~
“Bro, the entire campus is talking about you today. Fuck you, by the way, for telling me you’d leave my car at the party and then basically stealing it home. I thought someone had hot-wired it and stolen it.”
“Hot-wired a car…in suburban Seoul?”
“Hey! It happens!”
Mingyu groans into his caramel latte. The sun is too bright, the wind too cold, his body too exhausted, to deal with any of this right now. On top of it all, the end of the semester is rapidly approaching and with it are the deadlines of all the papers and projects his dumb ass has procrastinated for months…he wishes he could sleep through the next handful of weeks.
Even now, they’re braving the chilly Spring air at an illegally early hour just to try and get a study room in the library before they’re all claimed. Mingyu called in advance to make sure they had openings. Called the library . The last thing he cares about right now is the university rumor mill.
“Someone said you beat the shit out of some drunk kid.”
“Really? I heard he just scared him until he shit his pants.”
“Nah it was piss , Jihoon-ah. He scared him so much he pissed his pants.”
“It was definitely shit--”
“ Oh my god. ” Mingyu groans again. “There was no pissing nor shitting. I may have…yelled and almostpunchedhimintheface.” he says the last part in a rush on purpose, words slurring together with his lisp. He can tell they all manage to make it out though--you don’t be friends with Mingyu for as long as they have without gaining the supernatural ability to make out his Olympic hundred meter dash type of speaking speed.
He’s staring ahead, mind simultaneously blank yet a cluttered mess at the same time somehow. So much so that he doesn’t notice they’ve all stopped in their tracks until moments later.
Mingyu turns, squints in confusion at where his friends stand stock-still a few feet behind him. With a huff, he jogs back over to them.
“You what?!”
“Oh my god is it that big of a deal?” he whines while chaos erupts around him. It takes a hurried recount and a few minutes of literal begging to make them all drop the subject long enough to make it to the library. By the time they finally do, the bored-looking student manning the front desk monotonously informs him that the last study room was just taken. Mingyu nearly weeps on the spot.
That is, until his phone starts buzzing with a call. Glaring at his rightfully guilty-looking friends, he digs it from the deep pocket of his sweats, eyes widening at the ID on the screen.
“Mingyu-ah! Look up!” is the first thing that loudly greets him when he clicks the bright green ‘answer’ option. Mingyu snaps his head around at the words, looking to and fro. Seokmin’s bubbly laugh rings tinnily over the line.
“No, dummy, up !” Mingyu frowns but finally complies, craning his head up slightly. His cheeks burn with the move, wondering just how stupid he looks to everyone else right now. That is, until he spots a waving hand and a sunny grin so familiar he could probably paint it from memory.
Seokmin’s waving frantically at him from the floor above. The glass walls gives Mingyu a full view of him--the black sweats and red hoodie he’s donned in looking awfully familiar. His chest warms at the thought of the other willingly wearing his clothes even when they’re not together. Then, after the love-struck haze fades, reality sets in. Even more when Seokmin speaks again.
“I got the last study room!” Even without seeing him, Mingyu can hear the boy’s grin in his words. “I was going to use it for just me and Hao, but then I saw you guys walk in and try and sign up for one. There’s plenty of room in here if you want to head up.”
“If Minghao-ah’s okay with it…” he trails off, eyes catching on the figure all in black nestled a seat over from his boy--from Seokmin . The boy must relay the words to him because he peers over his shoulder to their group below. Mingyu catches his eye roll, though the boy gives his own wave voluntarily. Mingyu considers it progress.
“He said its okay.” Seokmin whispers over the line. Mingyu sends the boy a thumbs up and ends the call.
“Wow, Mingyu’s boyfriend privileges saving our asses, who would have ever dreamed the day.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
~~~
“Heard you stopped Gyu from going full Hulk mode on some kid.”
Mingyu buries his head dramatically behind his textbook, bangs the pages against his forehead for a little flair. He knew he was going to regret this arrangement.
“Huh?” Seokmin mutters, face a mask of confusion. It makes him look like a lost little puppy dog. Mingyu wants to put him in his pocket forever. Understanding starts filling in the spaces though, Seokmin giving the others a shy little smile. “Oh, yeah, I suppose so.” he shrugs, “The guy would have deserved it but…I didn’t want Mingyu-ie to get in trouble.”
Next to Seokmin, Seungcheol mouths ‘Mingyu-ie’ across the table at him. Mingyu glares at him. Jihoon hides a smirk behind the screen of his laptop.
Seokmin sits on, head back to being bent over his notebook, none-the-wiser.
~~~
As the season wore on, Seokmin had been mentally counting down the days to this moment, trying desperately to prepare himself as it grew closer. He knew it was coming no matter how much he pleaded with the universe to prevent it somehow. The universe didn’t listen. And Seokmin couldn’t stop the rotation of the Earth, couldn’t stop the day from coming.
It happens on a Friday toward mid-Spring. Seokmin had felt like his body was made from lead the very second he woke up and realized the day. Exhaustion and anxiety tethered to him like anchors, Seokmin trudged his way through. He went to classes, mind half-heartedly paying attention throughout. He went to lunch with Minghao, ignoring the concerned looks he kept catching from the corner of his eye, mouth chewing bites of his food on autopilot while his stomach tried its hardest to send every piece of it back up. By the time he’d made the drive to the university he’d thought he was going to call home for four years, he feels every form of ill--physically, mentally, emotionally.
Seokmin swallowed, throat working around bile, as Coach went through his usual pre-game preparations, speeches, run-downs of calls and play signals. He tried to ignore his surroundings, the hideous blue color of the lockers. He wished Coach had let them just get ready back at their own university, hadn’t made them use the visitor’s locker rooms here. Being back here makes everything even more amplified.
While Seokmin toiled in his own brew of mixed emotions, Coach gave them the same sort of background info he gives them on all their opponents--the noted strengths and advantages he’d clocked from different sports articles, past seasons. He’s working with very little though, considering his old school sucked so much ass for years that they’d never fallen in the same league as his current one. This is the first year both teams have matched up in a decade, Because of this, Seokmin’s even more surprised when the man doesn’t ask for his input on any of it, doesn’t try to get him to give his own inside info on the other team. He could if he’d asked, at least he thinks so. Though he’s tried to mostly block out any and all memories of the season he spent playing for them. Seokmin wonders if the older man heard the rumors, if that’s why he isn’t trying to ring Seokmin dry of information. Whatever the reason, Seokmin’s grateful for it.
No one else asks him anything either, not after Vernon off-handedly says “Hey hyung, weren’t you on their team before?” and Seokmin visibly recoils. Guilt and confusion wage a war on his dongsaeng’s face. Seokmin refuses to meet anyone’s eyes after that.
The worst part of it though is Mingyu. Sweet, supportive Mingyu. For weeks now their (undefined) relationship had been slowly bleeding into their professional one like ink in water. It was funny how something they’d been hell-bent on trying to hide in the beginning has basically become the team’s worst-kept secret. “Its all in the eyes.” Minghao had told him once, a week or so ago after finally making it to one of their games. “Mingyu oozes affection from his big dumb eyes like someone replaced them with honey combs”. Seokmin, personally, couldn’t see it. Or maybe he did and was too afraid to acknowledge it…but that was neither here nor there.
That being said, it becomes obvious--and quite awkward for all involved--when Seokmin essentially ignores Mingyu’s existence for the entire hour lead-up to the game. When he does acknowledge him its with a chilly air of indifference, strictly professional. Just the fact that he doesn’t smile once is enough to place everyone on the edges of their proverbial seats. Lee Seokmin not smiling? The world must be ending.
Its an eggshell walk of game preparation after. Everyone forces grins, tries to joke to keep morale. But the cursed feeling of this impending game still lingers.
Seokmin knows its all his fault too, but he can’t help it. Its hard for him to even breathe without prompting, he can’t possibly bring himself to keep the same sunshine composure. And he really doesn’t mean to ignore Mingyu, to put space between them. But he’s worried if he opens his arms, lets the other in, he’ll think its safe to ask questions. Mingyu’s modus operandi is the well-being of his loved ones--Seokmin can already tell that him being upset is setting off alarms in the other’s brain. If he keeps him at arms’ length he won’t try and push, will hopefully take the hint. Even Mingyu isn’t that oblivious.
The more poking and prodding, the more likely Seokmin’s chipped porcelain figure is to finally break.
~~~
“Strike three--out!” the ump calls. On the stands, the small crowd gathered there erupts into little cheers. Mingyu smirks to himself, sends what he hopes is a proud look to where Seokmin’s stood. It falls somewhere between them instead with the way the boy won’t meet his gaze. Mingyu’s smirk tumbles off his face, frown taking up its spot. He feels helpless somehow, like he’s drowning in the ocean while Seokmin’s at the coast just staring emotionless over at him.
Maybe its a dramatic way to describe it; his friends would surely clown him for it. But the fact of the matter is: Mingyu…he’s pretty hurt right now.
To say it started during pre-game would be a lie. Really, he’s felt off-kilter since he woke up that day. It’d become habit for the last string of months to text Seokmin in the morning--either a simple “Good morning”, or making plans to meet up for lunch, dinner. Any and all texts he’d fired off to the other boy had gone unanswered. If it wasn’t for running into him on the way to class, Mingyu would have started up a search party in his haste. As it was, the run-in on the quad was brief, Seokmin barely looking at him during it. Mingyu had tried to stop him, share a proper hello, wheedle what was bothering him out. But Seokmin literally shouldered past him, shoving Mingyu a few inches as they bumped together, throwing a “Sorry, running late!” back at him as he left. Mingyu had stood there dumbly for a few moments, cold air filling his gaping mouth. He’d snapped it shut with a clack, headed to his own class with a head full of confused fog.
Things had only worsened the next time he saw the other boy. Mingyu had walked into the locker rooms with tunnel vision, had zeroed in on where Seokmin stood, the boy slowly changing into his uniform. Pointedly ignoring the beauty that is a half-naked Lee Seokmin, Mingyu had approached him with a simple “Hey.”. The moments it took the smaller to finally answer him felt agonizing, and it ended up all being for nothing anyways, Mingyu only earning himself a terse “Hey” in return. He hadn’t even looked over at him, smiled, nothing .
It led to one of Mingyu’s most unfocused pregame practices to date. His mind was a swirling mess of questions, brain frantically replaying his and Seokmin’s most recent interactions. Did he say something wrong? Do something wrong? Maybe…maybe the other was getting uncomfortable by how close they were getting, maybe this was him trying to send Mingyu hints to back off? The thought broke open his ribs with its painfulness, its weight. Before today, Mingyu had been spending the last week talking to his friends, to Seokmin’s friends, had been enduring lectures and being called an idiot (mostly fondly at least) while he tried to figure out ways to fully confess to the boy. Mingyu had thought things were going great, had no longer held the same fear of honesty, of commitment, that he did previously. He wanted Seokmin to be his capital B boyfriend.
But now Mingyu is reconsidering everything, heart a popped balloon in his chest.
After the two-word exchange in the locker room, Seokmin didn’t say much else to him beyond the occasional grunt of acknowledgement when Mingyu would choose pitches for him to practice. Then the game had started, and any and all contact with the boy had been basically severed.
At least, Mingyu thinks, despite whatever in the world is going on with him, Seokmin is still managing to play well.
That is, until one of the opposing team’s members comes up to bat.
He’s tall, probably as tall as Mingyu. He’s also handsome, though Mingyu will adamantly refuse to say he’s more handsome than himself. Mingyu recognizes him from the local sports news, the articles. Park Minjoon, the star batter of their opposition. Mingyu used to go against him a lot as kids, always on rival school teams and summer leagues. He was talented yeah, but had an ego the size of Seoul to go along with it. Mingyu had always thought it was funny how he ended up at the other school, unknowingly joining a second-league team. He’d been thankful for it last year when it meant Mingyu’s own first-league would never play him. The guy was a bastard to compete against--always loved playing dirty. Mingyu likes to rely on genuine skills and honest plays to win a game, Park Minjoon most definitely does not.
(Sometimes he does wonder though, what would have happened if their teams had matched last year, if Mingyu had been able to meet Seokmin then. Would things have fallen into place the same way they did this time around? Somehow he doesn’t think so).
When Mingyu found out they were playing Seokmin’s old school this year his curiosity from the beginning of the season returned tenfold. Distracted with all the…developments of his and Seokmin’s ‘situationship’, it was easy to forget about his initial plan to get the scoop. Talks of the impending game at the beginning of this week sparked the memory again and Mingyu had practically rushed Seokmin after practice had ended. Though the second Mingyu even so much as uttered the opposing university’s name Seokmin had shut him up with a kiss. And another kiss. And another kiss. Each touch of his mouth tracing downward until Mingyu was distracted in a similar yet different way, if he you get what he means. After, he was too tired (and satisfied) to broach the topic again. He’d tried another few times that week with similar results--Seokmin either physically getting him off (topic) or changing the subject.
Mingyu had even tried asking around. He shivers at the memory of Minghao’s cold face when he attempted to ask. The boy had glared with ire in his irises, shutting him up on the spot. “If you want to know so badly, you can ask Seokmin yourself.” he’d bitten out. Mingyu’s whined “I’ve been trying!” didn’t do anything to soften him.
Now, watching Seokmin throw out the first pitch to Minjoon, Mingyu can sense that there’s something… off .
Gone is the confident, effortlessly talented yet fearlessly determined Seokmin he’s used to seeing. Now there’s a trembling stranger in his wake. Mingyu’s pulse quickens, stomach flip-flops, as he takes him in. Seokmin’s position is all wrong, power behind his throws practically missing in action. Its like he’s developed total amnesia for the game. Mingyu is lost.
Seokmin virtually hands Minjoon a home run with his last pitch, metallic ‘ding’ of his bat almost drowning out the surprised gasps ringing in around them. He didn’t even give the other a single strike. The confusion wafting from his teammates is palpable.
Coach is a red-faced mess of a man on the sidelines. He signals to the ump, announcer going over the speakers to notify them all of a time-out. Mingyu trails after Seokmin to their dugout, listens on half-heartedly as Coach tries to get to the bottom of his sudden unexpected slump.
“What the hell was that son? I’ve never seen you pitch that badly.” His tone is quick, biting. His hands wring over the edges of his clipboard so much Mingyu fears the entire thing will snap in half. The rest of the team busy themselves with a water break, make idle chit-chat. Mingyu can tell its all a rouse though, their eyes flitting over to the three of them every few seconds, bodies turned just so towards them.
In the midst of it all Seokmin stands, hands balled into fists at his sides. His head’s slightly bowed, an obvious refusal to meet the other man’s eyes. Its a hard feat to conquer considering he’s almost an entire foot shorter than Seokmin.
Even with his face turned downward, Mingyu can still catch the stricken look resting there. Coach must see it too, because his voice softens, hand reaching out to rub one of Seokmin’s shoulders. “Are you not feeling well? I can put Seungcheol in son…you just gotta tell me.” Behind him, Seungcheol chokes on a sip of water in surprise, Soonyoung laughing at him as Jihoon whacks him over the shoulders to clear it out. Mingyu smiles internally, too worried about Seokmin to outwardly show it.
Mingyu can’t say he’s surprised when Seokmin shakes his head. “N-no. I’m fine. I can do it.” he clears his throat, “I swear.”
Coach looks him over for a few more seconds before giving him a hesitant nod. “Okay, Seokmin-ah. Just…keep your eyes on the prize alright. No more free runs.” he chides, clapping Seokmin over the shoulder again. The boy gives a strained grin, heads back to the mound silently. He doesn’t meet Mingyu’s eyes once.
After, Seokmin seems to snap back to himself for the next few innings. His pitches aren’t as spectacular as usual, not by any means. He’s still fouling people, landing players on first or second base, but at least he’s not gaining anyone homers. And he’s doing okay when up to bat too--earning himself one full home run and another second base spot. Their team even gains a small lead on their opponent. All seems well. Until the opposition’s batting order makes its rounds and Minjoon ends up on the home plate again.
Mingyu gulps down his nerves as he takes the scene in. Seokmin’s back to being visibly meek, nervous on his feet. His first throw goes south, a simple foul. Next one is a strike. Mingyu cheers quietly to himself, their teammates whistle from the field. The confidence the move gives the other is clear--his form straightening up while his shoulders draw back. Mingyu holds his breath in anticipation.
But then. Then , Minjoon makes some sort of gesture, Mingyu isn’t even sure what at first. Until he does it again right as Seokmin rears back to throw. He catches it this time--a little blown kiss. It sends the opposing team into hysterics, snickers and cackles echoing so loud the ump gives them a warning signal and their Coach scolds them all. The whole thing sends Seokmin’s pitch into the ground. The ump calls out a “ball!”. Everything that happens after feels like it plays in slow-motion.
One of the players in the opponent’s dugout yells “A ball? We know Seok loves balls!”, prompting three things to happen. One: the rest of the team’s sent cackling, a pack of hyenas in abhorrent blue uniforms. Two: their Coach throws his clipboard in fury, yells “That’s it Cho, you’re benched for the rest of the fuckin’ game!” followed by a series of whines and puppy-dog begs from who is, presumably, “Cho”. Three: Seokmin’s next pitch is thrown amidst it all--clearly targeted and aimed right at Minjoon’s head. Mingyu can tell what he was trying to do, startle the boy by aiming at the side of his helmet that covers his ear. It would have worked if he hadn’t turned at the last moment. The ball connects with his face then--right on his nose. Blood bursts from it like a broken faucet, the boy crumbling to the ground in a pained heap.
Absolute and utter chaos erupts after that, the opposition crowding both Minjoon and the ump. Minjoon’s hefted to his feet by the Coach, some players meeting them to help. One saddles him on each side, the two of them working to steady him. Minjoon shakes his head a little to get his bearings, crimson blood flying with the movement. The other two groan in protest but still grip him by the arms in support. Then, he tries to make a beeline for Seokmin.
Minjoon’s face is full of rage under all the red, all the swelling. His bloodied mouth fires off gross obscenities while his two teammates try to physically hold him back and keep him from charging the pitcher. Mingyu rushes to the boy in question, shoves him behind himself in protection while sending a warning glare to the others. He opens his mouth to add his own choice words but is cut off by Seokmin trying to shove past him, face wild and hands balled. Mingyu wraps both arms around him to stop him, Seokmin grunting as he struggles against his grip. He has to enlist the help of Seungcheol, Jihoon, and Soonyoung to keep him in place.
Coach and the other team’s Coach are fighting it out along with the ump, members from each team gathered loosely around them. Words are thrown, terms like “Fighting dirty!” and “This game is a call right now!”. The other Coach threatens to report them to the league for misconduct if the game isn’t thrown. The ump tries to mediate but its moot. Eventually Coach agrees, though he makes it known he isn’t happy about it.
“Maybe if you didn’t have little assholes on your team this wouldn’t have happened.” He growls out. The other coach smirks at him, throws his head back with a fake-laugh.
“Lee Seokmin’s been a problem since last year. You ever ask him why he left? It wasn’t willingly.” Coach is nearly vibrating on the spot with anger, though it slowly deflates with resignation and a touch of confusion as the other coach leaves. Mingyu felt the fight leave Seokmin at the coach’s words, the boy now eerily still in his arms.
“Let me go.” the Seokmin whispers. Mingyu shakes his head furiously at him, tightens his grip even as the others drop their hold. “No Seok i’m not--”
“I’m not going after him. I’m leaving. Let me go.” this time it comes out watery, words breaking halfway through. Mingyu loosens his grip in shock, the others doing the same. Seokmin gives one quiet sniffle before rushing out of the field. Mingyu looks helplessly at his friends.
“Dude, what are you doing, go follow him!” Soonyoung yells. His hands gesture wildly, swooping motions from Mingyu to the parking lot in the distance. Mingyu watches him dumbly, body numb.
“B-but I--” he stutters. Clearly Seokmin wants to be left alone. Mingyu should give him space…shouldn't he?
“Bro driving upset like that is just as bad as driving drunk, you can’t let him leave.” Seungcheol adds. Its what Mingyu needs to jump into action, Seokmin’s safety, other people’s safety. He’s not going to let his almost-boyfriend get a prison sentence for ruining another college baseball prodigy’s life or anything similar.
Mingyu rushes past the rest of the team on the way out, all of them a titter of nervous energy as they pack up their things. Confused mutters are spread across them, questions and hypothesized explanations flying between them. Mingyu tunes them all out, shakes off the hands that grab at him, presumably to try and gain some info. He can’t blame them for being curious--lord knows he has his own stack of questions building up inside him--but he’ll answer them later, tomorrow, in the future, just not now. Now, he has a beautiful, confusing, distressed baseball player to reach.
Seokmin’s just starting the ignition when Mingyu reaches him. Jogging to the window, Mingyu bangs on the glass of it lightly, startling the boy inside. Seokmin turns to him with wide eyes, expression quickly dropping when he sees Mingyu’s behind the sound. He tries not to feel hurt by it. Seokmin sighs to himself inside the car, closes his eyes while he takes a deep breath. Mingyu cheers internally when he switches the car off, though the celebration is short lived when Seokmin just. Stays sitting there after, not making a single move to communicate with him.
Mingyu takes the initiative, hand gripping the handle and gently easing the door open. Seokmin still remains locked in place, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the windshield. “Seok, let me drive you back.” Mingyu eventually whispers when its clear the other plans on not speaking. He half-expects the boy to fight him on it. His eyebrows shoot up in shock when Seokmin follows the request easily, climbing out of the car and passing him the keys. Their palms brush in the exchange, something that’d normally send butterflies into Mingyu’s gut. This time he feels nothing but nausea.
He takes a second to fire off a text to their friends and to Coach, giving the same “Taking Seokmin home. Let me know if you need anything from me.” to their two separate chats. Coach reads it but doesn’t respond. The others mostly do the same, a few sending supportive wishes or thumbs-up emojis. Mingyu clicks his phone shut and slumps in behind the wheel.
“Ah, you really do drive like an ahjussi.” Mingyu mutters to himself, hands working to adjust the seat. He has no idea how Seokmin drives with his chest practically hugging the steering wheel. Mingyu’s knees are already killing him. A pull of the lever and he feels like he can breathe again, spleen no longer pressed to his thighs.
In all honesty he said the comment completely off-handedly, a force of habit. Its become a thing between them whenever Mingyu drives Seokmin’s car, the taller boy teasing him for his penchant to drive curled close to the wheel with both hands gripping it like a vice. He claims it was how he was “taught” by his older sister. The same older sister that’s half his height, most notably. Mingyu’s made it his mission to mess with him over it every time he chooses to drive--something that happens more often than not. Seokmin claims he “hates driving”, yet at the same time insists they take his car everywhere because he hates Mingyu’s truck--” its too tall to get into Gyu. Why should I have to gymnastics vault myself into it every time we hang out when we can just take Susan?” (Seungcheol had been thrilled when he found out Seokmin named his car as well).
Nevertheless, its second-nature for it to leave his lips when he climbs in. He doesn’t expect Seokmin’s tiny snort though. Mingyu’s face whips his way so quickly his neck pops. Seokmin’s looking back at him, face tear-stained but smiling, at least a little bit. The sight of it loosens the knot in Mingyu’s intestines incrementally. He doesn’t bother commenting on it, lets the silence spread out around them as he drives. He has a feeling the conversation they’re going to have-- if they’re going to have it--is going to be especially heady. He’d much rather have it in the safety of one of their beds instead of a moving car where Mingyu can’t even look at Seokmin’s face for longer than a few seconds at most.
Minghao meets them the second they get inside their dorm building. Mingyu raises an eyebrow at him--the boy had been at the game along with them. For him to beat them there without even a head start…he must have broke countless speed limits. Mingyu keeps the observation to himself. He watches on as the shorter boy dotes on Seokmin, asks him questions in a whisper. Mingyu gives them space, doesn’t try and eavesdrop even though he’s only a few feet away in the tiny dorm living room. Now that he’s looking at him, and thinks of it, it was strange that Minghao made the trek to one of their games when it was an away one. Normally he catches a home one every so often, schedule busy with dance classes he teaches to little kids and his own that he takes for his major. Sometimes he’s free but too exhausted and in need of alone time to want to go out to a rowdy, crowded field in the middle of the day. Seokmin never faults him for it, Mingyu most definitely doesn’t either. For Minghao to go all the way across town to another university…it makes Mingyu even more suspicious.
Eventually the boy must get what he needs to stop fretting, falling silent in front of Seokmin after a long hug is shared between them. He meets Mingyu’s gaze then, a look on his face that makes the taller wonder if he should just leave, wonder if he’s imposing. He surprised to see what looks like approval take over it instead.
“I’ll go to Jun-hyung’s…give you two some space.” he announces, already heading to the door to pull his shoes on, his beige trenchcoat. Mingyu chews anxiously at his lower lip. “You sure?” he finds himself asking. Minghao looks up at him, gives him what feels like the first genuine smile he’s ever sent Mingyu’s way. “Yes, yes. I was supposed to go there later anyways. Its fine.” And with that he leaves. The comfortable silence leaves along with him.
The door clicks shut, the earlier quiet turning oppressive. Mingyu clears his throat on reflex and peers over at Seokmin. He’s standing like a statue, body still as a summertime pond. Everything on his face is pinched--eyes, mouth, eyebrows. Its all the warning Mingyu gets before he blurts “i’m sorry” and promptly bursts into tears.
Mingyu gasps to himself, rushing the short distance between them to close the gap. Gentle hands ease Seokmin onto his rickety university-issue couch, Mingyu plopping down next to him. Seokmin buries a wet face into Mingyu’s shoulder. Its only then he realizes they’re both still in uniform. Throughout his sniffles he keeps trying to speak. Mingyu shushes him softly. “Focus on breathing Seokkie. You can talk later hmm? Its okay.”
By the time Seokmin calms enough to take a breath without shaking from the force of it, he’s gone nearly limp in Mingyu’s hold. Mingyu keeps whispering sweet nothings, hands roving over the exposed skin of Seokmin’s forearms, the latter half of his biceps. He knocks the cap off his head, trails his fingers through the sweaty strands. Seokmin leans into the touch like a cat.
An idea pops into Mingyu’s mind then.
“Hey, let’s get changed yeah? I think a nice shower would be good.” he offers, already starting to stand. Seokmin whines at the loss of his human pillow, looks up at where Mingyu towers over him with a pout on his lips. “Is this your nice way of telling me I smell?” he croaks out, though he grabs Mingyu’s outstretched hand, lets it pull him to his feet. Mingyu snorts as he heads into the bathroom, Seokmin on his heels.
“No~” he sing-songs over his back. Seokmin manages a little grin. Mingyu thinks it feels better than any sports trophy he’s ever won.
Mingyu pulls back the shower curtain, planning to pre-warm the water for them. Its no secret the university sucks when it comes to decent water heat, and its become second nature for everyone that lives in the dorms to let their showers run a few minutes before climbing in--lest they catch themselves under the icy pre-spray. He stops in his tracks after tugging it open, balking at the sight in front of him. Seokmin comes up behind him at his silence, soft palm resting against Mingyu’s waist. “Yeah I was surprised too. Apparently all the corner dorms come with a built-in tub.”
Mingyu eyes the long line of porcelain warily, new idea slowly forming in his mind. It looks clean enough…
“Minghao deep-cleaned the bathroom last week.” Seokmin adds, sensing Mingyu’s new train of thought. Turning a little, Mingyu shares a look with the other then smiles. Bending down, he plugs the tub and starts the water, the rush of it overtaking the silence of the room.
Seokmin’s just started on his top when Mingyu stops him. He turns blotchy cheeks up at him, face still ruddy from his earlier tears. Mingyu gives into the urge to kiss over them, leaving one, then two on each side. His palms reach down then, slowly ease Seokmin’s jersey up and over his head. The rest of his clothes follow similarly, Mingyu undressing the boy with featherlight touches. Laid bare in front of him he turns shy, uses undressing Mingyu as a way to distract himself. Mingyu allows it without hesitation, ignores the burn in his cheeks as Seokmin’s eyes rove his body.
By the time they’re both naked the tub’s filled. Mingyu turns the spout off, carefully climbs in first. Seokmin watches then makes his way towards the front. Mingyu stops him with a hand on wrapped around his bony ankle.
“Where are you going silly?” he says with a voice full of teasing, “Sitting that way’s gonna dig the faucet right into your back. There’s plenty of room right here.” his hands gesture to the small squeeze of space between his thighs. Seokmin’s flush deepens. Still, he doesn’t protest, and carefully settles in the middle of Mingyu’s legs with his back to his chest. The water rises as he’s added to it, a small amount splashing over the edge. It makes him giggle. Mingyu basks in the sound of it.
Their legs have to be bent a little to fit, the length of the tub surprisingly long yet still not long enough for a six foot something man and his almost six foot tall companion. Their knees knock together, water high enough that only the very tops of them breach the surface. Mingyu purposely bounces his against Seokmin’s own just to hear his laughter again.
The small patch between them feels purposeful though, the way Seokmin’s bending himself forward. Mingyu frowns at it, wonders for a second if he should push. He tries to bridge the gap tentatively, a hand coming to press along Seokmin’s stomach under the water. He uses its leverage to guide him fully against him until Seokmin’s head is almost pillowed onto his shoulder. Mingyu sighs when they touch, skin against skin in the warmth of the water. The shape of Seokmin’s grin stretches against him when Mingyu’s arms wrap fully around his waist. “Better?” Mingyu whispers. He feels Seokmin’s nod more than he sees it. The plush of his bottom rests against where Mingyu’s soft in the water, but the embrace hardly feels sexual. Mingyu lets himself enjoy it despite the events of the day. Its become more frequent--cuddling without the lead up or come down of sex--but its still rare enough that he feels he needs to savour it every time it happens.
It may have been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but Mingyu mentally pats himself on the back for it. The bath gives them the perfect little alcove of just the two of them--makes it feel like the world falls away for a moment. And, it gives Seokmin the comfort to talk freely without feeling shy under his gaze. At least, Mingyu thinks it will if all he’s learned about the boy over their months of growing together is anything to go by.
His suspicions are proven right when Seokmin clears his throat a few minutes later, shifts a little in his hold. Mingyu starts drawing circles into the supple skin of his belly in comfort, can practically taste the serious conversation coming.
“So.” Seokmin starts, snorting at his own eloquence, or lack thereof. Mingyu leans closer, lets him feel the curve of his smile against the back of his neck. He leaves a small kiss there, moves to his shoulder and presses one there too for good measure. Then he settles back against the tub, gives Seokmin a small square of space. His arms remain firmly put against his stomach though--Mingyu doesn’t plan to relinquish his hold anytime soon. He thinks Seokmin appreciates the comfort of it anyways, with the way one of his hands moves to cover both of Mingyu’s own.
“You probably have questions.” he continues. Mingyu makes a quiet sound of confirmation. Seokmin’s thumb starts running a rhythm over the veins in Mingyu’s hand. The small curve of his back rises and falls with a few breaths. Mingyu counts every one, then starts cataloging the knobs of his spine. Then finally, Seokmin starts.
He tells Mingyu about starting at his old university because it was closest to his hometown, and offered him a bigger scholarship than their current one. He talks about how hard it was to go separate ways with his life-long best friend--Minghao being accepted to their current university’s dance program with a full ride scholarship. They’d teased each other for the dramatics of it all, being only a thirty minute drive away wasn’t crazy after all. “They offered more than this university, were closer to home, and had a decent theater program. Minus Hao…it was a no-brainer decision.” he said.
Seokmin says the baseball team is where he met Minjoon. He was two years Seokmin’s senior and had essentially taken the boy under his wing. “The school started tryouts early that year, almost in the fall. They had these training camps over the off-season, we went to batting cages and worked out in the gym. I think they were really determined to improve their record, all the players were dying to be considered a first-league team.” He explained.
Minjoon became someone to look up to, had spent hours with Seokmin working with him one-on-one to improve his batting positions, hone in his pitches. Then it devolved into hanging out outside of baseball: for food, for parties, for video game nights in their dorms.
Seokmin paused for a while after that, his throat bobbing. Mingyu held him through it, stomach flipping. He hated how similar it sounded to what he has with the boy now. Has he been triggering him this entire time? Does Seokmin even want what they have right now? Mingyu feels sick at the thought but waves it away for the time being. This is about Seokmin after all, not him.
“One week, we both had these really big exams in both our classes. When they were finished, Minjoon came over to my dorm with soju to celebrate. We got drunk…he--he um…” Mingyu’s eyes widen behind Seokmin’s head. God, what exactly is the boy about to say? If its what Mingyu thinks…he may end up in prison soon for beating the shit out of this guy. He’s glad Seokmin can’t see his face right now.
“He kissed me.” he finally adds. Mingyu breathes a silent sigh of relief behind him. “We um…hooked up. Then kept hooking up. We became almost fuckbuddies, I guess.” he shrugs. “Minjoon made me keep it a secret.”
Guilt starts coiling through Mingyu like barbed wire. He dutifully bites his tongue, ignores all his racing thoughts for now.
“He wasn’t out.” he continues. “Though now I guess he never will be.” Seokmin lets out a humorless laugh. Mingyu squints at his back in confusion. Seokmin must sense it, because he keeps talking. Tells him about Minjoon making him swear to not tell anyone, that if he did Minjoon said he’d get him kicked off the team. Seokmin had thought he was joking about that at first, that it’d just been an exaggeration.
“In the end it wasn’t even me that made people find out. Minjoon got sloppy. He would practically jump me after practice and games in the locker room. He used to wait at least a half hour to make sure the rest of the guys were gone, and then he’d lock the door. One night he waited maybe ten minutes and forgot to lock the door.” He turns a little in Mingyu’s arms to meet his eyes, gives him a tired little smile. “You connecting the dots yet?” Mingyu’s too frozen--in anger? Sadness? To respond. Seokmin turns back around, starts tracing a fingertip through the lukewarm water.
“A couple of our teammates came back in. One of them, Sungwoo, was the one that yelled that…comment today.” Seokmin gives another humorless snort. “He’s best friends with Minjoon.” he tacks on. “Either him or the other guy--also Minjoon’s friend--forgot something. When they came back to the locker room they got a nice eyeful of Minjoon bent over.” There’s a clear smirk in his voice despite everything. Mingyu tenses behind him.
“He told them I forced myself on him. That I convinced him to give ‘gay shit’ a try.”
“And they bought that?!” Mingyu finds himself blurting. The sudden sound of his voice startles Seokmin, body jerking in his hold. Mingyu whispers a soft apology and wraps even tighter around him. Seokmin turns until he’s front-facing in his lap, legs bent up along Mingyu’s sides to fit. He smiles at Mingyu’s incredulous expression.
“I mean, I don’t know if they ever truly did or will. But Minjoon has too much influence over them for them to form their own thoughts. They’re like his puppets.” he laughs. “It didn’t matter what the truth was, Minjoon’s most practiced skill is control. He turned the whole team against me, let everyone think I was going to go after them to try and ‘turn them gay’”. Seokmin sighed. “Luckily it happened at the end of the year, because the rumors spread like crazy. I couldn’t even go to any of my classes without people parting the halls like I was fucking Moses or something.” A laugh bursts from Mingyu at that, Seokmin smiles at it.
“The games and practice were unbearable, full of snide comments and them pushing me around, trying to kick my ass…The day I went to our coach to quit, he told me I was already kicked out--Minjoon had gotten to him and told him his ‘story’ before I could--something about me sending him dirty, ‘perverted’ pictures or something. I finished out the semester while Minghao helped talk to advisors and directors and get me transferred over here. The scholarship is still less but not enough to be sad about. And now i’m roommates with Hao, made friends with the people in this theater program, and…met a lot of people that are important to me.”
Seokmin stops there, the end of the story reached. Mingyu reels after its over, from the content itself but also Seokmin’s last line. It’d seemed pointed, the boy matching eyes with him as he’d said it. Mingyu’s body feels like a soda shaken up--heart fizzing and bubbly while his belly is a building mess of anger. He desperately tries to come up with some sort of comforting words. Seokmin watches him, the way his mouth opens and closes over and over again. There’s a little upturn to his lips. It gives Mingyu the courage to lean forward and kiss him extra slow.
“I’m so sorry Seok.” he breathes when they pull apart. He rests his forehead against the boy’s, stares into eyes full of pain but mostly full of something Mingyu’s too scared to put to name.
“ I’m sorry I ruined the game.” Seokmin whispers. Mingyu shakes away the words, a small sound of protest leaving his lips. “He deserved the broken nose.” Seokmin giggles at the words. “I’m sure the others will think the same.” That makes Seokmin pause, cute teeth poking out to chew at his bottom lip. “Unless you don’t want to tell them?” Mingyu offers.
“They deserve to know.” Seokmin concedes. “And i’m sure they’re all dying of curiosity…I should probably clear the air before even more rumors start.” Mingyu laughs, he can only imagine the type of shit Soonyoung and the others are conjuring up. Seokmin’s definitely right.
“Yeah true.” Mingyu agrees. “But you can tell them tomorrow?” he offers. Seokmin nods with a look of relief.
Things move slowly after that, the two eventually making their way out of the tub. They turn the shower on instead, cleaning up properly under the spray. They wash each other’s hair, their skin. Seokmin’s extra gentle with Mingyu’s shoulder, the new incisions finally fully healed yet still fragile. After they’re clean he leaves a damp kiss there, one that makes Mingyu’s stomach flutter.
They fall into bed together after--to sleep and only sleep. Mingyu holds Seokmin the entire night, both too exhausted to stir even a little bit when Minghao finally comes home. He smiles at the sight of them tangled together, climbs into his own bed with relief.
The next morning Seokmin walks Mingyu two floors down to his own dorm. He kisses Mingyu syrup-slow in front of his door, pulls away to give him a smile that lingers.
For some reason, Mingyu finds that it feels a lot less like a see-you-soon and a lot more like a goodbye.
~~~
Mingyu has his gut feeling confirmed in the coming days. Its like Seokmin is there but not really there . He has excuses for every attempt Mingyu takes to get them alone--he’s already eating lunch with his theater friends, he’s already going to dinner with Minghao, he has an essay due, he has rehearsal. At practice and games he keeps his distance too. He doesn’t outright ignore Mingyu--he still smiles at him, still jokes around with him occasionally. But for the most part it’s like all they are is barely-there friends. Mingyu hasn’t kissed him in a week. Hasn’t even held his hands.
He doesn’t understand. He’s hurt. Every day he wakes up to radio silence and feels like his chest’s caving inward on itself. He thought they were good. The air was cleared. Mingyu’s questions were finally all answered. Seokmin had even told the team, told Coach (though not nearly as detailed) about what happened between him and his old teammates. Everyone vowed to kick their asses if they ever played again. Mingyu’s about ninety-nine percent sure they didn’t mean in baseball.
So for Seokmin to virtually ghost him now makes no sense to him whatsoever. What’s even worse--the boy’s own friends don’t get it either. Minghao has looked just as confused as Mingyu for the past week; even Jun--who out of all of them he’s talked to the least--has approached him to ask “What’s up between you two”. Which means this is something Seokmin’s chosen to do and keep to himself. Mingyu feels like that’s a really terrible sign.
Suffice to say the plan to confess to the boy falls to the backburner. Mingyu isn’t sure Seokmin even wants to be fuckbuddies with him anymore, let alone anything else.
~~~
“What are you doing?” Seokmin hears from behind him. The question makes him squint at the red earthenware pot in front of him with confusion.
“...making mac and cheese?” he answers, hand slowly turning the noodles. He knows its crap and probably will only satiate his hunger for a couple hours but…the less time he spends outside the dorm the better. Plus he already told Mingyu he was eating with Minghao tonight. He doesn’t need to know it was a lie. And, can it really be considered one anyways if Minghao is right there? Just because Minghao isn’t also eating doesn’t mean he isn’t eating with him…in the general vicinity.
A long suffering sigh he knows all too well comes next. Seokmin bows his head downward and begs for strength. He knew this was coming eventually. He was just hoping it would take longer to.
“You know what I mean Seok.” when Seokmin only stays silent, Minghao sighs again. “With Mingyu, Seokmin-ah. What are you doing with Mingyu?”
Seokmin turns off the stove, pulls on two cheap oven mitts from the local Daiso. They’re garishly pink with an absolute offensive paisley pattern. They were a gift from Mingyu, the boy nearly catapulting himself across the room one night when Seokmin made them spaghetti and moved to grab the pan bare-handed. The memory now only makes him feel ill. He suddenly regrets putting them on.
Minghao follows him to their tiny table nestled in the corner, takes the mismatched chair across from him. Seokmin doesn’t say anything when the boy grabs himself a bowl--its rare for him to eat “processed garbage” like this. Seokmin’s the one to sigh now, knowing if Minghao’s willing to break his habits just to be near him, then there’s no chance he’s going to shake off his prodding tonight.
“Hao what do you want me to say?” Seokmin asks around of mouthful of almost-cheese. It makes the other grimace at him, hand reaching out to wipe away a drip of canary yellow sauce from the side of Seokmin’s mouth.
“Anyone with a working set of eyes can see the hurt puppy impression he’s got going on lately Seok.” Minghao attempts. Seokmin refuses to look at him, swirls his spoon through his bowl instead. “And you haven’t been up my ass this much since we were like, twelve.” Seokmin pouts at him across the table. Minghao snorts. “Not that I don’t like spending time with you.” he hastily adds, “But you’re using me as an avoidance tactic.”
Seokmin stares at the table, picks off a speck of something…dried gochujang maybe? He swallows his next bite around a new lump in his throat.
He knows Minghao is right. He knows Soonyoung is right. Jihoon, Junhui, Seunghcheol, hell even Wonwoo who he’s met maybe twice--they’re all right. Each one has approached him with similar concerns over the past week, trying to subtly get him to fix things with Mingyu. But he doesn’t know how to do that.
Seokmin had made the decision to slowly start breaking things off the night after the whole fiasco with Minjoon. It wasn’t lost on him, the similarities his situation with Mingyu held with the one he had with Minjoon. There’s obvious differences there, but he’s still found himself in yet another friends with benefits situation. Seokmin is too clingy to survive such a thing. Even with Minjoon--before everything fell apart--he’d been planing to confess to him, to try and make things official. The problem is he can’t do that with Mingyu.
Because there was already a slim chance Kim “campus whore” Mingyu would want anything to do with him and his baggage. Especially now that he knows the full breadth of it. Who would want to date someone with so much drama attached to them? If Mingyu wants to finally settle down, he deserves a nice person with no issues to do it with. After all, the boy has already had to deal with so much of his own struggle, why should he be given even more shit to deal with?
Voicing it all out loud to Minghao only makes him feel worse. With the others, he’d shrugged them off, made excuses. They weren’t close enough for him to want to bare his heart like this. Its easy to say it to Hao, but he regrets it almost instantly once he sees the exasperated look on his best friend’s face.
“Seokmin-ah. That’s so incredibly dumb.” Seokmin tries not to feel too offended by the blunt words. Its a difficult task to carry out. Aggravation builds up beneath his skin.
“Minghao--”
“Are we talking about the same Kim Mingyu here? The one that held you and comforted you while you cried? Stayed with you for hours? Almost kicked the shit out of he-who-should-not-be-named and held you back from doing so, so you wouldn’t ruin your reputation? That Kim Mingyu?”
“Hao--”
“The one that stares at you like you’re the two leads in a fucking k-drama? Texts you constantly to the point he has his own special ringtone? Talked to your mom for thirty minutes on FaceTime the other night because she called while you were showering? Fucking makes you breakfast, lunch, dinner?”
“Ming--”
“He did your laundry last week because you ‘had a long day and a stressful calc exam’? Fucker even organized your darks and lights?!”
“Fine!” Seokmin shouts, interrupting his friend from offering up any further examples. Or, so he thinks. Minghao stares at him for another moment before digging into the pocket of his pants. Blue light illuminates his face as he unlocks his phone, scrolling through, seemingly looking for something. He turns the device Seokmin’s way when he apparently finds it.
It’s a video, one Seokmin recognizes instantly. It’s the one Soonyoung took when Mingyu was loopy off painkillers months ago. He’s bleary eyed, smiling dopily up at a blushing Seokmin. Their hands are laced over the starched white sheets of his hospital bed. A flustered looking nurse is in front of them.
““He’s muh--my friend! A special friend.”
“I wish he was my boyfriend.” “I really like him.”
“That’s really…nice Mingyu-ssi.
Seokmin closes his eyes after Minghao stops the video, opens them again to watch him tuck his phone away with a satisfied smirk. “That was how long ago? Hmm? He’s wanted to date you for that long.”
“He was high as balls off morphine. Who knows if he really meant that.” He fires back. He leans back in his chair, a rocking kind the university employs to keep kids from standing on them and hurting themselves…among other things. Seokmin pushes one of his feet against the linoleum, rocks himself while he crosses his arms. He sees now, why parents rock fussy babies. This shit is oddly soothing.
“Oh give me a break Seokmin.” Minghao sends right back. “Kim Mingyu is halfway in love with you if he isn’t fully already. You’re avoiding him because you’re scared but all it’s doing is hurting him.”
“Since when do you care about Mingyu anyways?” Seokmin croaks out. The last time he checked his best friend had the boy saved in his phone as “Seokmin’s Newest Mistake”.
Minghao huffs at the question, even throws in an eye roll. “Does it matter, Seokmin-ah?” Seokmin gives him a Face. Minghao grumbles to himself a little, throws his hands up. “Fine! I didn’t like him at first. Can you blame me? The guy had a reputation, and you’d just slowly started getting over the mess with that other asshole. I didn’t want to let another pretty douchebag ruin all your progress.”
“But?” Seokmin hedges, can tell there’s more to his friend’s words.
“ But ” Minghao mocks, “He’s shown time and time again that he genuinely cares about you. He’s a good guy Seokmin. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt by anyone else, least of all my best friend.”
Seokmin buries his face in his hands, uses them to scrub over his skin. When he peeks out, Minghao’s watching him like a little hawk. He gets now why people can find him so scary. “So what should I do then?” he mumbles.
“Talk to him.” Minghao drags out, like its so simple.
~~~
In the end, it does end up being so simple.
They meet again organically. And, in their dorm laundry room again, of all places. The deja vu of it all is weirdly sweet. Mingyu’s even clad only in a tee shirt and boxers again. This time they’re printed with puppies.
“Do you have an entire set of animal boxers?” Seokmin approaches the other slowly, laundry basket in his arms. He slams it on the floor with an “oof”. Mingyu looks up from his phone in surprise. Seokmin grins at him. It falls when Mingyu’s face hardens. He watches the other’s jaw work, throat bob. Then he gives Seokmin a strained smile. He wonders what words he’s just bitten back.
“I just did your laundry last week. How can you have so many dirty clothes again?” Seokmin can feel his ears burning with the question, cheeks too. He hides his face at least by turning to the washer, quietly sorting the clothes as he goes. “I lost a bet with Hao and now he’s making me wash his.” he mumbles. Mingyu snorts, the sound has Seokmin’s shoulders relaxing just so.
“What was the bet?” Seokmin groans a little to himself. “Who could drink a bottle of soju the fastest…” he trails off. A quick glance to the other shows him fully laughing at him now, pretty figure jumping with his giggles. Seokmin takes a second just to look him over. It feels like forever since he’s seen him, even if he just saw him at practice yesterday. But that was spent mostly trying to avoid eye contact. Seeing him like this? Its been far too long. He’s missed him dearly. The observation springs him into action.
Finishing the last of the clothes, Seokmin climbs onto the machine next to Mingyu. The one underneath him starts rattling to life, sound of the water spraying in drowning his first words out a bit. When he repeats them the sound cuts right out--washer turning to the spin cycle-- and makes it so he’s almost yelling in the quiet.
“I miss you.”
“What?”
“I miss you!” Seokmin flushes when the loudness dies out, leaving him practically yodeling in the small room. Mingyu flinches with it, then his expression turns an icy cold. Seokmin gulps as his entire body, his entire being hardens.
“How can you miss me if you’re the one avoiding me?”
“Mingyu--”
“I don’t get it Seokmin. I--I thought we were getting somewhere. But that night, the story you told me--” he cuts off when Seokmin flinches. Even angry at him, Mingyu finds himself comforting the smaller boy. Seokmin clings to the hand suddenly covering his own like a lifeline. “There were…similarities. Like with Mi-- him training you and stuff. I was worried that maybe I had unknowingly forced you into something similar. I mean, I was the one who initiated everything that first time in the locker room I--”
“Yah, you didn’t do anything wrong!” Seokmin bursts in. Mingyu turns wide eyes on him, skepticism written into their corners. Seokmin reaches out, cups his face and runs his thumb along the side of one of them. Mingyu doesn’t back away from the touch. Seokmin uses it to bolster his confidence.
“I wanted it. I wanted everything.” he says much softer than before. “I’ve been avoiding you, I admit it.” he adds, seeing up close and personal the way Mingyu’s face drops. “I was afraid, so afraid, that you were going to end things after knowing the truth. I’ve been afraid that this whole thing had an…expiration date for a while. After you found out about my past, I knew it was only a matter of time that you’d realize I was more trouble than I was worth, had more baggage--” he shakes his head, cuts himself off.
“So you started drawing yourself away to what? Protect yourself?” Mingyu whispers. Seokmin nods. He’s surprised when the boy’s eyes flare, can almost see the red within them. “Have I ever acted like you weren’t enough Seokmin? Ever treated you like something dispensable? I know this started as just sex but its been a long time since its been only that.”
Seokmin stays quiet, chastised. He desperately tries to think of something to say. Mingyu cuts in before he can.
“I remember, you know? The day in the hospital, when I told the nurse right in front of you that I liked you, that I wanted you to be my boyfriend. I remembered before the others even showed me the video.” Seokmin frowns at him, pulls his hand away from the boy’s face. Mingyu tightens his grip on the other one. Seokmin doesn’t fight him on it.
“So? You were clearly under the influence of heavy drugs Mingyu. What did you expect me to think?”
Mingyu scrunches his eyes shut then, shakes his head to himself. “Damnit. All the others told me I should have talked to you after that day, brought it up again. I should have listened.”
“Why didn’t you then?” he asks once Mingyu reopens his eyes. The boy gives him a wry grin.
“I was scared.”
Seokmin grins back. “If two scaredy cats get together, you think they cancel each other out?” he muses. Mingyu slowly bridges the gap between them, scoots closer to Seokmin across the machines. Seokmin surges toward him in a kiss, smiles so hard into it that their teeth clack together.
“Guess there’s only one way to find out.” Mingyu whispers against his lips.
~~~
“You smell like fabric softener.” Mingyu breathes into his mouth. Seokmin pulls away from the kiss to squint at him. “If that’s your idea of dirty talk I don’t know if this relationship’s gonna work.”. Mingyu huffs, grabs his hands and slams them above his head. “Shut the hell up.”
“Make me.” Mingyu dives in for another kiss, tongue filling Seokmin’s mouth to do just that. He’s so kiss-dumb he doesn’t register the hands leaving his wrists, still subconsciously holding his own above his head. Mingyu’s fingers tap at his thighs for a second, makes Seokmin thinks maybe Mingyu’s doing it unknowingly. It isn’t until the other pulls away with a meaningful look that the touch registers.
With a gulp Seokmin hops up, letting Mingyu’s hands catch him under the thighs. With a yelp he scrambles to wrap his arms around the taller’s neck, giggles breathlessly as he’s carried the short distance from Mingyu’s front door to his room. The boy smirks, clearly loving the whole strong caveman act he’s putting on, and tosses him gently to the bed.
Mingyu’s hands lift his tee from the collar, arms flexing as he pulls it over his head. Seokmin could drool at the sight of it. He doesn’t know what it is with guys taking their shirts off like that, that makes him feral. It just does.
Mingyu smirks at him, preening under his attention. With one last look sent Seokmin’s way, he eases his boxers down and off. Seokmin’s mouth definitely waters this time, gaze glued to the boy’s cock. He’s been borderline obsessed with it since the first time they ever hooked up. Its the perfect length, thick in all the right places. Always gets so red and fat when Mingyu’s turned on. Seokmin wants it inside him immediately.
“Your turn.” Mingyu croaks. Seokmin undresses then, hands shaking while the other stares lasers into him. At one point Mingyu takes himself in hand, fingers stroking over his length while Seokmin strips. Its enough to make him falter, shirt getting caught on his head with it. Mingyu pauses his show to help set him free, giggling while Seokmin blushes a bright red. He kisses over the heated skin until the color fades, though it never truly disappears. Its one of many things Mingyu loves about having sex with Seokmin, the beautiful little flush he gets as soon as they start, the way it lingers on his skin for hours after. Seeing him so worked up and knowing Mingyu’s the cause of it…he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Seokmin’s face isn’t the only thing flushed though. No, his cock is just as pretty a pink as the rest of him. Mingyu eases himself down the bed on his elbows to reach it, laving over its wetness with his tongue.
“A-ah Mingyu, not today please.” Seokmin begs. “Just want you inside me.” Mingyu reluctantly listens, moving back up until they’re face to face. Sweet kiss pressed to the tip of Seokmin’s nose, Mingyu leans over and rifles through his messy bedside drawer for their lube. The fact that he even refers to it as ‘theirs’ should have been sign enough that he was in deep. He laughs at his past self in his head.
The crack of the cap opening fills the room, followed by the sweet scent of strawberries. Seokmin watches him drizzle it over his fingers with dark, piercing eyes. “Still don’t know why you love the strawberry one so much…” he mumbles. He’s always teased Mingyu for it, from the very first time he realized it was flavored. Back then the tube had been brand new--originally a gag gift from a giggly Soonyoung. After the accident, Mingyu was too busy recovering to ever use it. Then he met Seokmin and well…we all know how that went.
Mingyu had thought it was dumb back then, wondered just how worth it flavored lube was. Guessed it probably tasted like perfume…a chemically-induced twang that’d make him want to yak. Then he’d tried it one night while eating Seokmin out…he’s been a changed man ever since.
“I told you, it makes you taste extra sweet.” he teases, laughing to himself at Seokmin’s scoff. His grouchiness doesn’t last long though, not when Mingyu quickly hoists up a plush leg, bends down, and promptly licks a long line right over his hole.
“F-fuck Mingyu, warn a guy!” Seokmin whines, entire body jerking at the touch. Mingyu rolls his eyes at the boy’s dramatics. Of course Mingyu ends up with the bossiest bottom on campus. He doesn’t regret it a bit though.
“Oh i’m sorry, was me hiking your leg over my shoulder not warning enough?”. All he gets in response is a hand tangled into his hair, fingers tugging at the strands hard enough to sting. He muffles a drawn-out moan against Seokmin’s skin. The digits pull tighter when he adds a finger to the mix, tip slowly tracing along the ridges of Seokmin’s entrance. It makes the boy shiver, body shaking against him. Mingyu follows the same path with his tongue.
Strawberry--surprisingly genuine and not at all chemical--spreads into his mouth as Mingyu works over him. A loud smack of a kiss and then the finger’s back, slowly easing inside. Seokmin’s tight, he’s always tight. Mingyu leaves a line of kisses around his heat, along the soft skin of his inner thighs, waiting and waiting for the boy to adjust. When he finally does Mingyu starts working into him, the quiet squelch of lube filling the room and making them both light up with a blush. Mingyu regrets not starting any music now. Usually he’s better planned when it comes to this. Though this time he knew he just had to get his hands on the other as soon as possible, the confession in the laundry room downstairs leaving him with so much yearning he was almost head-under in it.
Mingyu distracts Seokmin with his fingers, his tongue. The boy’s always been so shy over their noises. Luckily Mingyu is able to pull him out of his own head with his touches.
One finger turns to two, Mingyu working his tongue in between his spread digits. Seokmin’s a vision above him, head thrown back against the pillow while the muscles of his neck strain. White teeth dig into his lip to muffle his moans. Mingyu looks forward to the day they’re out of the dorms, in their own place. The day he can fuck Seokmin freely without worrying about other people overhearing.
“You’d think with your ego you’d be an exhibitionist.” Jihoon had teased him once. Mingyu quickly waved off the claim. He’s too possessive for it, he’d said. He doesn’t want anyone else to see his partner like this.
To see Seokmin like this.
“Gyu--Gyuie please. I can’t.” Seokmin begs to the ceiling. Mingyu takes pity on him, finally eases all four of the fingers he’d worked into him out. Seokmin whines at the loss, clenching pitifully around nothing. Mingyu fights off the urge to fill the space with his tongue. Maybe next time…he considers.
He wiggles back up the bed, cock bobbing with the movement. Seokmin watches on with hungry eyes, his cute grabby hands completely at odds with the fire burning within them. Mingyu grins, following the wordless request easily. Seokmin’s hands fall to his shoulders, kneading and pressing at the stretch of muscle along his upper back. Mingyu closes his eyes at the feeling while they meet in a kiss.
They break apart with a soft pop of their lips, seemingly amplified in the pin-drop quiet of the room. Mingyu raises up, takes a moment just to look over his beautiful boyfriend (boyfriend! He can call him that now! The fact makes him almost dizzy with glee).
Seokmin’s a sight for sore eyes beneath him, lines of tan muscle pulled taut as his arms reach above his head. His fingers tangle in the silk of Mingyu’s pillow case, biceps and triceps sensuous curves underneath his skin. There’s a flush spread to his chest, a small glisten of sweat. His dusky brown nipples are pebbled in arousal, tight against softly defined pecs. Mingyu only gets a few more moments of greedy staring before the boy whines. “Stop gawking at me and fuck me already.”
“Stop being so beautiful and I’ll ‘ gawk at you ’ less.” Mingyu mocks back. Seokmin rolls his eyes. Mingyu decides to placate him, leaning over to grab a condom off the nightstand. He freezes in confusion when a hand grabs his wrist.
“Can we--” Seokmin starts, losing his gusto two words in. Mingyu still manages to get the gist.
“Are you sure?” he asks. He’s not opposed to the request. Definitely not. He’d even gotten tested back in the Fall, before this school year even started. Soonyoung and Wonwoo teased him for it to no end. “Gotta make sure everything’s nice and clean for another year of whoring around.” It was said so fondly Mingyu couldn’t find it in him to be offended. Plus it was no secret his two friends were also big fucking sluts. They just weren’t as public about it.
“Please.” Seokmin says as an answer. “I got tested after everything with--you know. To make sure. And i’m clean.”
“I’m clean too.” Mingyu breathes, cock twitching as the breadth of the situation kicks in. Seokmin smiles up at him, hair haloed around him on the pillow. He looks like a little angel, all pretty against Mingyu’s baby blue sheets. He can’t wait to wreck him.
After one last kiss, Mingyu grabs the lube again and slicks himself up. He adds extra this time just in case, the smooth barrier of a condom gone. Seokmin breathes, chest rising and falling faster than before, anticipation building within him. Mingyu nestles himself against his hole, keening at the feeling of the raw of him rubbing against his sensitive head. Seokmin wraps his legs around him, rests his heels against the small of his back. With that, Mingyu slowly starts to ease in.
Usually its Seokmin that sets the stop-and-go pattern of their thrusts when they first start. The boy is incredibly sensitive, and his body loves to lock up at any intrusion. It usually takes almost ten minutes for Mingyu to finally be fully seated, for Seokmin to completely relax around him.
This time though Mingyu’s grateful for the routine. Because the moment he’s sheathed in Seokmin’s heat he feels like he’s a nanosecond away from coming. His head’s barely in, yet Mingyu feels like a virgin all over again--about to blow from only a few inches of calidity.
When he’s finally fully crested inside, his body is shaking so much from the effort of holding back that Seokmin’s legs keep falling from their grip around him. Seokmin gives a breathless, fond giggle at his obvious strain. His eyes are bathed in pink, glowing fond and shiny with what Mingyu can confidently call love. The sight of it works to calm him just a little. Seokmin’s slow kiss works even better.
“Move.” he whispers. Mingyu listens.
His hips draw back and hit forward with a smack. Then another. And another. Seokmin encourages him on with candied little sounds, the boy caught up in it enough to forget himself for a bit. Its one of Mingyu’s favorite stages of sex with him, he revels in it whenever it happens.
He works his way into Seokmin with laser focus, eyes glued to the boy’s face while he angles himself. When he finds his sweet spot Seokmin keens, nails digging deep into Mingyu’s skin. He muffles his own moans in the damp skin of Seokmin’s neck, sucks a hickey there because he can now. The gesture sets the boy off even more, makes him clench lock-tight around Mingyu. The taller’s movements falter from the feel of it.
He’s content to pound away at him, content to try and bring him over the edge. A set of hands grabbing at his hips makes him pause just as he’s starting to build up an almost punishing rhythm.
“Wanna try something.” Seokmin says breathlessly. Mingyu waits for instruction dutifully, would sprout wings and fly if the boy suddenly said he wanted to try fucking on the face on the sun. Seokmin doesn’t quite go so far though, only uses soft shoves to get Mingyu to pull out. A whine leaves the boy’s lips when Mingyu does but he fights through it, easing the taller onto his back.
Realization sets in when Seokmin climbs over his hips.
Mingyu watches him with eyes blown wide. He can’t say he was expecting this. Out of all the times they’ve gone this far, Seokmin’s always been on the bottom. Mingyu’s started calling him his little pillow prince (fondly) because of it. Seokmin always takes the moniker in stride (just as fondly) and never tries to dispute it.
This is the first time they’re trying it this way.
Mingyu’s mind explodes from the very first bounce.
“Fucking--fuck.” he groans oh-so-eloquently, hand reverently tracing the strain of Seokmin’s thighs. The position leaves the muscle corded, each rise and fall testing their strength. The softer insides jiggle gently with every movement, every slap of them against Mingyu’s pelvis. Mingyu thinks he’s found his new favorite thing--the sight of Lee Seokmin’s thighs as he rides him into oblivion.
Seokmin throws his head back, eyes shut and lips curled in bliss. Mingyu curses up a string of obscenities dirty enough to make a sailor faint. It all has the boy giggling breathlessly, mouth spreading wide with the toothy smile Mingyu loves so much.
Seokmin’s a vision in his lap, body working as he takes his pleasure from Mingyu. The taller is content to just lay there and take it all in with awe and the occasional growled out groan. Really, he does very little, lets Seokmin take the reigns he clearly loves to have control of. Fuck if Mingyu’s going to fight it. Not when it feels this good, looks this good.
“T-touch me.” Seokmin stutters, Mingyu following the request at lightning speed. Hand wrapping around where Seokmin bobs, he times his strokes with the boy’s bounces. Precome coats his palm, makes the slide easy and loud with its squelch. Seokmin’s body bows in at the touch, movements faltering as he gets closer. Mingyu braces a heel against the mattress, skin sliding a little with the sweat of it. He finds his leverage, uses it to start slowly thrusting his hips up in the time with the boy’s movements.
Seokmin absolutely keens at the feeling, loud cries of Mingyu’s name tumbling from his lips. It takes two more shaky lifts up, two more weak slams down, for him to come. White splatters onto Mingyu’s chest below, hot and sticky against his skin. The boy’s orgasm spreads fire between them like a symbiotic wire sliced in two. Red flares deeper onto Seokmin’s skin as he slowly comes down.
Through it all his body clamps like a vice around Mingyu. He finally lets himself stop fighting the feeling that’s been building for what feels like ages. Eyes scrunching shut, teeth digging rivets into his bottom lip, he comes.
Seokmin lets out a weak moan as Mingyu fills him with wet. The fever of it burns deep into him, warms him from the inside. There’s enough of it to leak around where they’re joined. It drips back slowly onto Mingyu’s small tuft of hair, his balls, his skin, with the gravity of their position. It should be gross. It is gross. But at the same time, to Mingyu, its also the hottest thing he’s experienced in all twenty one years of his life.
Clean up after is far less hot, though they make it through. Mingyu’s dorm wasn’t blessed with the same tub as Seokmin’s, so they have to shove together in the cramped stall of his shower. Soft cocks bump into hips, ankles knock together, elbows get shoved into ribs followed immediately by rushed out apologies. They giggle through it all, both shaking where they stand like a pair of newborn deer.
After, Mingyu bundles Seokmin into his arms like something precious (he is). They lay together in the dark, swap kisses until they start drifting to sleep.
Seokmin’s morning smile competes with the sun. Mingyu rewards it first place, gives it a kiss as its prize.
~~~
[image] [image]
Mingyuuu97 Me and my multi-talented boyfriend @97seoku
On the screen, one picture of Seokmin and Mingyu posing at practice, decked out in the team’s uniform. Mingyu has his arm slung around Seokmin’s shoulders, the other rests his around Mingyu’s waist. They’re smiling more at each other than the camera. In the background, a slightly blurry Soonyoung and Seungcheol can be seen sending exaggerated kissy faces their way.
A swipe reveals photo number two: a beaming Mingyu beside a teary-eyed Seokmin, heavy stage makeup on his face. They’re wrapped together again, Mingyu’s proud arm around Seokmin’s waist this time. Between them is an almost comically large bouquet of wildflowers. He’s in his King Arthur costume, still has the big prop sword slung against his hip. (He accidentally hits Mingyu with it three different times when they meet after the show. Seokmin teared up when he saw him, saw the gigantic bouquet cradled gently in his strong arms. Seokmin’s mom had taken the photo. She’d sat next to Mingyu the entire opening night performance, took a video on her cellphone of the boy sniffling his way through the show. Seokmin makes her Airdrop it to him.)
$quad
TigerHosh
Screenshotted image:
[image] [image]
Mingyuuu97 Me and my multi-talented boyfriend @97seoku
?????BOYFRIEND?!
Jihoonie
What in the 2016 is this chat name Soonyoung
Scurrt
BOYFRIEND?!
Wtf soonyoung change my name back
Wonnie <3
Kim Mingyu you actually did it
Mingoose
:)
Seokkutie
<3
Awe soonyoung hyung my name is cute!
Big Toe
How come he didn’t get a meme name
Wtf soonyoung this isn’t any better
Vernoodie
Congrats hyungs! Soonyoung hyung you owe me one hundred thousand won!
Skurtcheol
Hey me too!
Jihoonie
Me three
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**Cheol**
Hell yeah power baby
Mingoose
You guys bet on us?!
Myungho
Duh???
Seokkutie
Hao you too?! Is that why you were pushing me so hard?!
Myungho
I was pushing you cos I wanted you to be happy
If that happiness earns my broke ass a hundred thousand won so be it
Mingoose
And here I was,,,thinking you were actually a good guy
Myungho
Who helped pushed Seokmin’s thick headed ass to confess to you?
Mingoose
I take it back…Xu Minghao…god among men
Seokkutie
Hey! My head isn’t the only thing thick! >:(
Mingoose
That’s right babe :-*
Seokkutie
;)
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Mingoose
Damn baby. Guess its just us in here now
Seokkutie
;)
Mingoose
;) *eggplant emoji*
**Cheol**
STOP STOP IM IN HERE IM IN HERE
DO
NOT
Mingoose
Damn
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Seokkutie
Oops
[ Seokkutie has left the chat. ]
Cheol
Left alone. Like always
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TigerHosh
Oh my god so dramatic
**BIG TOE**
Fuck off Soonyoung
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TigerHosh
Hehe
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~~~
Not much changes with the official genesis of their relationship. They hold hands in public now, kiss in freely and unabashedly. They clog everyone’s social media feeds with their gushy posts and cause others to cringe on more than one occasion from it. They have bomb-ass sex…mark each other up so viscerally Coach makes them both buy turtlenecked undershirts to wear beneath their uniforms. You know, the usual.
They stop hiding, the second they can; fully letting everything out the first practice after the night they get together. It leads to a hell of a lot of wolf-whistles, and Mingyu’s worried Coach will have a full blown burst aneurysm at one point, but its worth it. So incredibly worth it for the third-degree burn level of bright that is Lee Seokmin’s pleased smile. They do still keep it toned down when they’re on the field though, its not like they’re tonguing each other in the middle of the diamond. Its more sweet words and encouragement, compliments just to make each other laugh. Mingyu has too much respect for Coach to scar the older man with their bullshit. Just him being tolerant of them together is enough. He actually even gives them his approval, or, at least he does in his own way. A simple “At least I won’t have to worry about you going at each other’s throats anymore.”. He sends a very terse warning look when Vernon snaps his mouth open at the comment. The boy clacks it shut with a sheepish grin.
The semester progresses on, finals looming on the horizon. Seokmin’s musical finishes out just in time for playoffs. They make it past round one, round two. By the time they’re in the third and fourth rounds they’ve gained local notoriety. Each game becomes more cutthroat, more anxiety-filled. Mingyu holds hope in his heart that they make it all the way to the end while also keeping himself carefully cautious with his optimism. Just the fact that they’re doing this well is enough, and he sure as hell doesn’t need any of them to be crushed if they miss out on the end.
He doesn’t end up needing to hold back though. They make it to the championships for fuckssake. Only problem? Take a wild guess who their opponent is.
“Out of all the teams.” Seokmin grumbles, pacing back in forth in their locker room. Mingyu thinks if the floor was any older the boy would have worn a moat into it by now. Mingyu’s been trying to distract him for the past ten minutes to no avail. The boy’s been fixated on the news ever since it broke. It came during practice earlier, the report that Seokmin’s old school had beat out their final opponent and thus would be up against their own team in the championship. With all the irony the universe has shown as of late, Mingyu really should have expected this.
“How can they even let us play each other?” Seokmin muses. “Last time we almost had a full-out brawl. Its a--a safety issue!”
“Baby~” Mingyu coos the pet name on purpose, despite the eyes still on them. Everyone else has been just as keyed up over the news, the rest of the boys lingering while they talk things over amongst themselves, form gameplans. The cutesy name draws snickers from their tense forms. Mingyu is fine with shouldering their teasing if it brings them out of their funks.
The name works like a charm on his boyfriend too, Seokmin stopping in his tracks like he’s suddenly got himself stuck in mud. He turns to Mingyu with red cheeks, visibly deflating at the sweetly chiding look on the taller’s face. Mingyu opens his arms silently, lets the other boy trudge over and curl into them. Soonyoung coos across the room, the sound only making Seokmin bury his face in his shoulder more. Mingyu grins down at him--it doesn’t matter if he can’t see it. He hopes he can somehow feel Mingyu’s fondness just by it being directed his way.
God. What a corny though. Mingyu doesn’t even care, that’s how whipped he is.
“I broke his nose, Gyu. The guy already had it out for me before that. Now he’s really gonna come for my ass.” gets muffled from into his shirt. Mingyu runs his hand soothingly through Seokmin’s hair. The boy pops his head up to look at him. Mingyu kisses his forehead.
“Seokmin-ah, if he tries anything he’ll be kicked from the game, the team, and personally by me. In the ass. Repeatedly.” its enough to get Seokmin giggling, some of the tension dropping from his body. Mingyu grins at it.
“You’re going to play incredibly.” he says softly to him. Then, louder, “You’re all going to play incredibly.” he aims towards the room. “You’re going to kick their asses, and we’re going to take home that fucking trophy!”
“Hell yeah!” Soonyoung yells. The rest of the room breaks out in similar sentiments, locker room nearly vibrating with the cacophony of them all. Seokmin tilts up to leave a sweet kiss on Mingyu’s cheek in gratitude.
The pep talk manages to calm everyone enough to finally start heading out, room filled with the din of them all packing up. The metallic clang of lockers opening and closing, the zip of ball bags, all of them fill up space like their own little orchestra. Mingyu breathes it in, waves goodbye to everyone that passes. It leaves him with Seokmin and a few of their closest friends, the boys hanging back for potential dinner plans. Mingyu lets them talk it out amongst themselves, happy to go along with whatever they come up with as long as food and maybe a little alcohol is involved.
“You’ll pitch the best game you’ve ever pitched, I just know it Seok.” Mingyu murmurs while the others are distracted. The boy grins up at him gratefully, nods along with him.
“I wouldn’t be on the team if I wasn’t good right? I beat everyone else out during tryouts like you said.” Mingyu tenses incrementally then, but Seokmin’s close enough to feel it. Even worse, their friends are near enough to hear his words.
“Huh? No other pitchers tried out.” Soonyoung squints in confusion. Jihoon, ever-perceptive, manages to catch on; the shorter boy trying to leave a stealthy whack on the back of Soonyoung’s shoulder. The boy whines loudly in betrayal at the touch, glares at the other with a pout on his face.
Seokmin slowly backs out of Mingyu’s hold, looking between him and the rest, lost expression on his face. There’s still a smile there, though its sour with strain. Mingyu breaks out into a cold sweat at the sight of it.
“But Mingyu said--”
“I-I lied. That day. I lied.” Mingyu blurts in an admission. Seokmin freezes in place, hurt taking over his features. The others scramble behind him, looking between themselves as they gather their things. They throw half-hearted goodbyes over their shoulder as they get the hell out of dodge. Mingyu can’t exactly blame them.
“You needed encouragement--”
“So you lied?!” Seokmin nearly shrieks. “You lied about me being good?!”
Mingyu holds his hands out in a plead, tries to approach Seokmin like he’s a feral dog. The boy backs away further and further until Mingyu has him caged against a row of lockers. Seokmin huffs at the proximity, draws his arms across himself and refuses to meet his gaze. He only does when Mingyu frees a hand, uses it to tilt his chin upward.
“I didn’t lie about you being good Seok, that was the truth. But no one else tried out. Not because they didn’t want to, but because they thought i’d be offended. I didn’t exactly hide how…displeased I was about be replaced at the beginning. Everyone knew how much the sport meant to me. But since you were an outsider…”
“I didn’t know about any of that and tried out.” Seokmin finished for him, understanding dawning on his face.
“Mhm.” Mingyu hums. “And i’m glad you did. Not only because of how good you are, but if you never took my spot I never would have met you.”
“O-oh.” Seokmin stutters, suddenly shy from the fondness dripping out of Mingyu’s eyes, brown irises a leaky faucet of affection. Mingyu hums again, uses the grip on his chin to guide him into a kiss. “You’re so good Seok. So, so good. You never needed my training at all, could have been fine without it. If it wasn’t for the scholarship you wouldn’t have even needed to deal with my overbearing ass.”
Seokmin giggles, shakes his head in Mingyu’s hold. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have met you either.”
“What a tragedy that would have been.” Mingyu muses, bringing the boy in for another sweet peck.
“Truly.” Seokmin whispers.
~~~
The championship game falls on a sunny Saturday at the end of Spring. The weather is picture-perfect, a mid point between early Spring cold and beginning Summer warm. Its such a contrast to the way everyone feels. Mingyu thinks it’d have been more fitting if it was cloudy with an impending thunderstorm in the works. It feels like they’re going into battle instead of a simple baseball game.
At least they lucked out with the way things lined up, the game slated for their home turf. It gives the opponent a slight advantage with the number of times up to bat, but Mingyu doesn’t care. If their team plays the way he knows they can, the other team won’t even need that advantage--they’ll already be too far behind for it to help.
Mingyu spends the entire morning of game day with Seokmin. He makes sure he takes a nice, warm shower, giving him a massage during it to loosen up his muscles. He makes him a protein-packed breakfast full of nutrients from scratch, does the same with lunch. He makes sure to keep Seokmin distracted, takes him grocery shopping, for a walk by the Han River, gives him a kiss whenever he starts to frown even a little bit. By the time they’re strolling into the locker rooms for pregame, Seokmin is as relaxed as he could be. Mingyu mentally pats himself on the back for it.
Coach gives a short pep talk then opens the floor to Mingyu. He’s a little surprised at first but takes it in stride--gives a similar speech to the one he gave a few nights prior. The boys clap, cheer, fill the space with hollers of companionship and support. Mingyu pulls them into a group huddle, has them stack hands and cheer after.
For Seokmin, he waits until everyone’s filed outside before reeling him in for a steadying kiss. One to the lips, another to the chin. A small, careful one to the mole on the boy’s cheek. Two more on each side, a smack of one to his forehead. By the end of it Seokmin’s beaming. Mingyu kisses that too, laughs when the boy finally shoves him away.
“We kick asses here right?” Mingyu asks, one arm slung around Seokmin’s shoulders as they clomp up the cement stairs. Blinding light greets them as they emerge from the side door next to the basement. Mingyu pulls down the brim of his cap, reaches out to do the same for Seokmin.
“We kick asses.” Seokmin agrees.
And with that, they head out onto the field.
~~~
Their opponent clearly tries to throw Seokmin off his game (literally) right off the bat. Seokmin, posed strong and tall on the mound, watches as they send Minjoon out to hit first. Mingyu steels himself, teeth gnawing at the side of his thumb--a nervous tick that’s doing nothing to curb his anxiety. Seokmin sends a quick glance his way. Mingyu’s entire body locks up under it until the boy surprising him by giving a small smirk full of confidence. Mingyu’s stomach pauses in its toils.
Wide eyes watch from every angle as Seokmin throws the first pitch. Its the same one Mingyu tried to correct all those months ago--the same one that caused the very first rift between them. The boy’s gotten it down to a science, merging Mingyu’s pointers with his own skill. It lands right into the catcher’s mitt as Minjoon swings--a textbook perfect strike. The smarmy sneer on Minjoon’s face starts to falter.
Seokmin gets another two fouls from the boy, another strike. Everyone’s perched on the edge of their seats as he rears up for the final throw. Minjoon is seething where he stands, has already called a time out that his own coach clearly didn’t approve of. It does nothing to help him in the end--Seokmin lands a perfect curveball. The ump calls a “strike three!” that makes their team break out into cheers across the field. Seokmin smiles to himself as Minjoon stomps his way back to his dugout.
Then the game really, truly begins.
~~~
Sports Local
15th of May 20XX
Seoul
By : Ha Sungwoon
LEE SEOKMIN DOMINATES CHAMPIONSHIPS: VICTORY OVER OPPONENT AND VICTORY OVER HATRED
[image 1]
img description : smiling Lee Seokmin (21) hefted onto his teammates’ shoulders, mouths open in excited exclamations. in hand is a golden trophy, gleaming under the afternoon sun.
[image 2]
img description : Lee Seokmin (21) in full team uniform, pulled into kiss by co-coach Kim Mingyu (21). cheering expressions of teammates can be seen in the background. head coach Choi Dongwook stands off to the side, exasperated but smiling.
With a decade-long history of success, many worried about the outcome of this year’s season with the loss of their spitfire pitcher, Kim Mingyu. As many know, the now 21-year old was severely injured by drunk driver Jeong Namgil (57) of Gangwon, last Spring (read the article here ). The crash landed Kim a seven-week stay in Seoul’s ICU, and another three in a local rehab facility, tirelessly working to regain use of his arm--the appendage nearly severed completely in the accident. Jeong was formally convicted in July while Kim was recovering. He is now serving a 15 year sentence in Seoul Nambu Detention Center--the maximum sentence allowed for his crime (read the article covering Jeong’s conviction and long DUI history here ).
Per the strict warnings of his medical team, Kim was discouraged from the game for good; you don’t go through four (now five as of mid-Spring of this year) surgeries to undo all your progress. Enter: Lee Seokmin, a bright-eyed and bushy tailed transfer from the university across town. “It was kind of funny” states head coach Choi Dongwook, “Our university had a long line of kids that have played the game for forever but none tried out. I think everyone was afraid to step on Mingyu’s toes. I really thought I was going to have to turn one of my best fielders into a pitcher instead. Then here comes this kid with a smile as bright as a fluorescent light bulb with the talent of a Major League-er, completely oblivious to any of the drama. It was like fate.” The Coach then goes on to tell about months of training under Kim’s wing, a mixture of animosity that quickly turned to friendship…then more.
“Anyone with eyes can see how lovely Seokmin-ah is.” states Kim. There’s a grin on his face that could warm even the coldest of hearts. Its easy to see the affection there. “Honestly, I hated him at first.” he laughs. Beside him, Lee pouts. It makes the nearly 6 foot 3 retired player practically melt in his seat. It’s almost funny--and achingly sweet--the way he folds to the pitcher’s whims. “I mean, this guy comes out of nowhere with all this talent, and he shows up to replace me? Who wouldn’t be a little annoyed.” Kim shares a commiserating look with the new pitcher, the boys bumping shoulders. Notably, Lee’s earlier pout is nowhere to be found.
“But it sounds like that hatred quickly ebbed away?” I ask. The question makes twin blushes spread onto the pair’s skin. I smile at the adoration I can see in both pairs of eyes. “Seokmin is…he’s un-hateable. Is that even a word?” Kim laughs. I nod and wave the question away. It is, in fact, a word. One that, even after spending a mere fifteen minutes speaking with the pitcher, can see fits Lee Seokmin perfectly.
“I’m guessing the relationship fell into place pretty easily after that?” It makes both of them pause. I stare at them, curiosity peaked. “I wouldn’t describe it as easy.” Seokmin says with a wry grin. “It took a while for us to figure it all out.” Kim adds. They seem to be holding a conversation with their eyes. I decide not to pry. There’s tougher questions to tackle.
“I feel like its rare…to see not only people so open about their same-sex relationship, but especially two athletes. Have you had any backlash?” Kim shrugs airily. “I mean, there’s always going to be people that disapprove. I stopped living my life for others a long time ago.” Next to him, Seokmin bobs his head along with a few nods. “All the people most important to me support it, and at the end of the day that’s all that matters to me.” I give them a smile. They return it easily.
“Are you worried that your dynamics on the field will be compromised? Or are any of your other teammates?” Kim snorts out a laugh at this, Lee echos it. I raise an eyebrow at them. “We dial it back on the field big-time.” Kim explains. “He doesn’t give me any special treatment.” Lee adds. “If I even so much as look at Seok in a certain way the other’s turn it into comedy hour.” Lee giggles beside him. “Its good motivation to keep it under wraps…no one wants to deal with all that teasing.” I add my own laugh to their mix.
The rest of the interview is spent discussing the future of their team. Notably, one of the star players, Choi Seungcheol (24) has been scouted by the Doosan Bears and is expected to be chosen on draft day. It leaves his spot open for the next season. “I think we’ll manage.” Kim shrugs. “There’s tons of talent out there just waiting to be discovered.” he bumps shoulders again with Lee when he says it. They share a smile.
“Well boys, congratulations again. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. I wish your team and you two all of the best.” They each give me a small bow, a pair of “Thank you, hyungnim”. After, i’m gifted a brand new jersey with my name on the back, number 00 underneath. As of the time of this article, i’ve hung it on the wall behind my work desk.
Congratulations to all the college teams for a great season! I’ll be signing off from baseball until next Spring. Keep your eye out for my coverage on college football coming in the Fall! Until then, feel free to check out my colleague’s coverage on the Major Leagues (including the outcome of Choi’s draft) here .
~~~
Epilogue
Why did he let Mingyu leave? Seokmin can’t do this on his own.
“God, there’s so many different types of flour. How the hell am I supposed to know which one is the right one for fucking muffins?” he grumbles to himself, hand reaching for one of the boxes on the middle shelf. On it, a thin gold band gleams in the ugly fluorescent lighting of the grocery store. A pop song plays over the speakers, slowly reaching its end. Seokmin doesn’t recognize it but hums along regardless. He finds himself frowning when it ends, no longer distracted from his confectionary ingredient woes.
“Lee Seokmin?” he hears from his left. His head snaps up quick enough to make his neck crack. He rubs over it with his free hand--he should have never let Mingyu try that position last night. All of his joints are still sore.
He’s expecting to see some random person from his life, his kindergarten teacher maybe. His old choir director. Hell, even the old man from down the hall of their apartment complex. What he doesn’t expect is to see is Park Minjoon standing a couple feet away, tentative smile on his face.
Seokmin takes him in, notes with a bitter taste in his mouth that the boy looks good . His hair’s longer, facial hair grown out to a short, meticulously groomed beard. A quick once-over has him spotting the silver band on his own ring finger. Seokmin tamps down the questions that bubble up. Still, Minjoon manages to catch his line of sight.
“Remember Sungwoo, from college?” he offers. Seokmin wracks his memory, name sounding familiar enough… right . Sungwoo, Minjoon’s little lackey. The same one that walked in on them in the locker room that day all those years ago, the same one that said homophobic shit every time Seokmin played them, even after they beat them out of the championships. Involuntarily, he feels his face harden.
Minjoon raises his hands up at it, huffs a little embarrassed laugh. Seokmin holds back his eye roll in favor of his newly sparked curiosity. “Yeah…I know. He was a lot. I was a lot. It--we were both struggling. Taking our inner battles out on everyone else.” Seokmin tries not to flinch when the boy comes closer to him. He still leaves a small square of space, but he’s near enough to smell his cologne. It’s the same woodsy one Seokmin loved years before. He hates the memories it brings back. “I um…I ended up marrying him?” Minjoon whispers, hand lifting while he wiggles his fingers. The band catches in the light. Seokmin tries his hardest not to scream.
“Huh?!” he really, truly did tries. But can you blame him? His homophobic ex-fuckbuddy just told him he married a man. And not just any man--his fucking homophobic ass best friend?! Seokmin wonders if this is all a dream. It was allergy season…maybe he’s actually at home right now, curled up under Mingyu’s mismatched blanket collection, taking a Benadryl nap. He’s planning on going with that until Mingyu comes stumbling around the corner, arms full of bananas. “Babe, they’re playing our song!” he yells excitedly. Seokmin grabs the bananas from him before he trips and turns them to mush. It wouldn’t be the first time.
His ears finally break free from their shocked static to take in the tinny song over the speakers. His lips spread in a grin. Girls’ Generation’s “Gee”.
When he turns back from the cart, he finds Mingyu with his arms crossed--full on defensive guard dog mode. He’s glaring at Minjoon, obviously recognizes the other man. With a quiet sigh to himself, Seokmin sidles up next to him, curls a comforting hand around the arm of his navy peacoat.
“Minjoon was just telling me he married Sungwoo…his best friend.”
“Sungwoo is a manly name for a girl.” Mingyu blurts. Seokmin unlatches his hold, rubs both hands over his temples with a sigh. Luckily the comment only makes Mingjoon laugh. Though all that does is raise Mingyu’s hackles even more.
“What’s so funny you little weasel? I won’t hesitate to kick your ass right here next to the cake mixes--”
“Oh my god Gyu take a breath.” Seokmin rushes out, clamping a palm over his boyfriend’s mouth. He shoots Minjoon an apologetic smile. To his surprise though, the boy only looks abashed.
“No, no Seok its okay. Let him say it. I deserve it.” Underneath his hand, Mingyu’s muffled “Don’t call him fucking nicknames” is grumbled into his skin. Minjoon raises his hands placatingly, “Seokmin-ssi.” he corrects himself. Seokmin drops his hand from his husbands face slowly, gives him a warning look that he answers with a confused pout.
“I caused you both a lot of shit.” Minjoon admits. “Especially you Seok--” he falters at Mingyu’s pointed glare, “Seok min-ssi .” “It took years after university for me to finally realize what i’d done and why I did it. It was actually you guy’s relationship that helped show me it was okay to like what I like. That I could be loved and successful even in a society that can be so hateful…” he trails off, giving each of them a grateful grin.
“I was a scared little boy, too afraid to fix my own issues, causing ones for others instead. I can never take back what I did, and i’ll always regret it.” he continues. “But I wanted to say i’m sorry. Really, I’ve been wanting to tell you that for the longest time but never wanted to break your happiness. I knew I would if I texted you or messaged you or something. But when I saw you here today I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
Seokmin lets the words crest over him like a wave. He feels Mingyu relax slowly beside him. Seokmin tries to wrack his brain for something to say. On one hand, he appreciates the apology. It seems genuine. And he can sympathize with the boy’s fear, no matter how badly he went about handling it. On the other, he made Seokmin go across town to a new school, had him endure a whole slew of horrible comments even after he broke his nose, after he beat him in the championship. At one point it’d gotten so bad they were officially banned from playing each other the following seasons, per the league’s CEO.
Seokmin is horrible at holding grudges though. And he’s always believed even the worst of people can change.
“I accept your apology.” is what he settles on. Minjoon’s face lights up at his words. “But, I can’t say I fully forgive you.” he adds. The boy’s expression falters, settles into resignation. “Not yet at least.” his eyes fill again, this time with hope.
“I wish you and Sungwoo all the best, I really do.” Seokmin offers. Minjoon nods, clearly takes it as a dismissal, the boy heading back to his cart halfway down the isle. “And thank you for taking the time to apologize!” Seokmin calls after him. Minjoon turns, gives him one last smile, then walks away.
“Damn, all that angst made me miss the rest of ‘Gee.’” Mingyu whines. Seokmin snorts up at him, grabs their cart with a roll of his eyes. “We can play it on the ride home.” he concedes, Mingyu immediately perking up at the promise.
“Did you really need to make banana muffins at ten Am on a Saturday anyways?”
“They’re for your rehearsal tonight! I’m trying to get your cast to like me.”
“Aish they already like you! Don’t look at me like that, they do!”
Mingyu sulks to himself, waving his Super Valued Shopper card under the scanner. The automated self-checkout voice prompts [ Hello. Start scanning your items now. ] then is immediately interrupted by a beep and [ Five twenty-nine. Place your BANANAS on the conveyor belt now ].
“Shouldn’t you be prepping for practice tonight anyways? Last week you said you were going to come up with ‘new play signals’. That the pitcher was ‘too clueless to pick the old ones up’. Which…kind of mean by the way.”
“Its not mean . Its--”
“You’ve always had it out for the pitchers since I graduated.”
“Well yeah cos they’re not you~ .” Mingyu whines. Seokmin lets a besotted grin take over his face. Mingyu mirrors it. It falls almost immediately, sheepish expression taking over when--
[ Ten fifty-nine. Place your VALUE SIZED STRAWBERRY LUBRICANT on the conveyor belt now ].
“Oh my god Mingyu what’d I tell you about buying this shit here?” Seokmin whispers furiously, looking around them with bright red cheeks. He’s already caught the eye of the ajumma that feeds the ducks in the pond outside their complex. Seokmin wishes for swift and smooth death. “Who even buys lube at the grocery store?!”
“It was on sale !” Mingyu cries.
Fin.