Work Text:
It’s around 11:30 when Mingi receives a text.
u kno [11:33PM]
hey
can u come to my room?
The request is not an odd one, but the timing is. He has seen Yunho basically all day; they had a shared class in the morning, then lunch together at noon and the couple hours prior to when Mingi retreated himself to his own room to get done with an assignment were also spent in the company of each other, in the living room, watching Star Wars (just because Seonghwa was already at it, not because they liked it).
Mingi can’t think of a thing Yunho may want to tell him, because if there was something, he would already have said it. They were actively glued to the hip the whole day; why does Yunho want to see him now? Is he bored? But Mingi is pretty sure San is at home. Does he need something?
Stopping his ponders and wonders to reply to the text seems like the most reasonable move for now.
orange juice [11:37PM]
hmm yeah?
i mean i’m not done w my assignment yet but ok
u need something?
u kno [11:37PM]
no
just come
Mingi goes.
It’s pitch black in the apartment when he leaves his room, with the phone flashlight as a guidance and his eyes squinting behind the glasses. He can’t hear anything besides Hongjoong’s insistent fingers clicking the mouse in the living room, and for what Mingi can tell as he passes by and gets no reaction whatsoever, he’s in for a long night with his noise-cancelling headphones as company.
Yunho and San’s room is the last one down the hallway, so he makes a beeline to the door and doesn’t knock before twisting the handle.
He’s greeted by his best friend sitting as stiff as a board on the bed, in his plaid pajamas and damp hair, bare face illuminated by the bedside lamp and only.
San’s bed is empty.
“Hi.” Yunho says, oddly awkward.
Mingi turns off the flashlight.
“Hello. Where’s San?” it seems coherent to ask, given that Yunho’s roommate is not exactly the type to go out at night, especially on weekdays.
“He’s sleeping with Wooyoung tonight.” the answer throws him off.
“Why?” he starts walking towards Yunho, glancing around the room and wincing at the mess he sees. It’s a mix of clothes on the floor, an absolutely unintelligible chaos of papers, books and cans of energy drinks on the desk and an incredible amount of delivery boxes stacked in a corner.
It’s barely tidy enough to live.
“I don’t know. He just wanted to.” it’s a scrappy reply, he notices as he picks the clothes from the floor without caring about who they belong to and shoves all of them in the basket resting useless by the side of their wardrobe.
“I see. Care to take out your trash at least?” accusingly pointing to the reason for his annoyance, he asks, forgetting for a minute that he hasn’t come for a clean up.
He doesn’t know what he has come for.
“Yeah, later.” and it’s silent for a beat.
Mingi allows himself to take a deeper look at Yunho. He looks freshly showered, as he had spotted previously, but he also is extremely fidgety, cracking the knuckles of his fingers and bouncing his tightly pressed legs up and down rapidly.
He still can’t grasp what the expression on his face conveys, though.
“Ok. So? What did you call me for?” going straight to the point is his speciality and Yunho doesn’t get spared just because they’re best friends.
Very much the opposite, actually.
There is some more hustling, one look to the side and then Yunho reaches for the drawer of his nightstand to pull out what Mingi knows are a bottle of lube and a condom.
Realization hits him like a truck.
“Huh…”
“Yeah. I really want to, if you’re down. If you’re not, that's fine, though.” Yunho doesn’t look at him as he speaks.
He can’t say they have never screwed it before. They’re best friends, yes, but something had to be done when curiosity took the best of them and if it has been going on for a couple of months now, they just don’t talk about it.
Mingi gulps.
“I mean, yeah, sure I’m down, but I can’t bottom today.” because of course he’s not going to clean up all the way for no reason, and how could he have imagined Yunho would want to fuck on a random Tuesday night?
“I don’t want you to.” he works hard to hold back the smile that tries to rip his face, because Yunho initiating action in between them is not rare, but having him bottom totally is and Mingi is about to piss his pants. “Ok, cool. Close the door and lock it.” said and done.
Mingi walks up to him properly this time, sitting by his side on the bed and doing his very best to not let his excitement be too obvious. He stretches to put his phone near Yunho's pillow, out of habit as he does it on his own bed as well, and is caught by surprise when a hand touches his thigh in a firm grip.
“Sorry if I’m rushing, but I don’t think I can wait too long.” the confession is almost shy but as honest as Yunho is.
There aren’t any second thoughts.
Mingi holds Yunho’s nape and shoves his tongue deep in his mouth. It’s a sloppy kiss, one that has Yunho melting as he grabs a fistful of Mingi’s shirt, both in order to ground himself and in an attempt to control his own desire.
He soon finds out he doesn’t have to.
Rough hands travel down his torso until they meet his hips and there’s no protesting against the strength in which they’re pinned in place, all so Mingi can move and use his own body to lay Yunho down. His legs naturally spread apart, Mingi fitting snug in between them and the kiss hasn’t been broken not even once, but it’s getting hard to breathe and Yunho feels like the air is being slowly drawn out of his lungs with each suck Mingi leaves on his tongue before diving back in.
Mingi’s lips detach from his mouth to bite along his jawline and all the way down to his collarbone. Yunho shivers, eyes closing so he feels more than sees Mingi lowering his pants and getting rid of them.
He doesn’t want to know the intent behind the chuckle he hears, and he’s glad Mingi doesn’t say anything.
Yes, he’s not wearing underwear and yes, he’s already hard. Painfully so. Has been for a couple of minutes. More than he’d like to admit.
Mingi backs off and Yunho dislikes the action although he doesn’t let it show, only watching rather impatiently as the other sits on his heels, reaches for the lube – halfway empty – and snaps the cap open.
It echoes through the room and makes both hyper aware of what they’re about to do.
The expectation is big and shared.
“Ready?” it’s a whisper that has Yunho’s skin blooming in goosebumps.
He nods, not so sure of how his voice is going to come out so he doesn’t dare speak, and Mingi doesn’t push further.
Slicked-up fingers touch Yunho and he clenches down, reflexively.
It takes a bit to relax, considering everything that is on the way. He doesn’t usually bottom, they haven’t had sex at all in about two weeks, no noise can be made and Mingi’s fingers are huge, but he wants it so bad he forces himself to breathe properly, even when it burns and makes him want to close his legs.
It’s not five minutes later when it starts to feel good.
Yunho feels ridiculous, having to press his lips together to keep in his moans and squirming like a worm with only one finger up his ass, but he can’t really blame himself. Mingi is good. He’s great, even, as he builds a rhythm and rubs right there every time he pulls out, slowly but surely taking Yunho apart with a total of zero effort. The second finger has his back arching off the mattress; he almost wants to say that it is enough, but it definitely isn’t in the light of what Mingi carries in between his legs and as much as he’s sure he can take it, both would rather be safe than sorry.
The third finger goes in and Yunho has to bite his own tongue.
It’s too much and it makes him delirious. His face is incredibly hot, so are his chest and ears, and being denied the virtue of moaning is revolting, to the point he bites the back of his hand and allows himself to whimper a little.
Mingi seems pleased by the reaction.
“No noise, Yunho.” but he says sternly, pace not faltering and a shit-eating grin spreading his lips.
Yunho wants to kick him in the ribs and so he does, not to hurt but strong enough to let him know he’s not gone to the point of putting up with being talked down to.
Mingi redeems himself by getting ahold of Yunho’s leg and putting it over his shoulder to pepper kisses at the smooth skin of his calf, focusing on the intensity his other hand assumes in its ministrations and delighted to see Yunho’s eyebrows pinch together. He’s blinking slowly, fighting against the urge to close his eyes, and for a moment, Mingi wants to call him pretty. Yunho’s lips are crimson red, glistening with spit and being bitten insistently by a pearly white row of teeth. He’s flushed from his ears all the way down to his chest under the loose fabric of his pajama shirt, and Mingi decides he doesn’t want it off.
Yunho looks pretty in green.
He almost feels mean, because Yunho’s leg is jerking and so is his dick, left there leaking and pitifully untouched, but Mingi has put his mind to not grazing one finger over it unless Yunho asks him to, which, knowing his pride, he won’t. It’s hard to keep himself from smiling watching Yunho writhe on the sheets; he’s beautiful, a mess of long limbs and sweaty, pinkish skin, tousled hair gluing to his forehead and a variation of blissed out expressions crossing his face under the low yellow light. Mingi wants nothing but to see him surrender.
He does. On his own way.
With a desperate tap on Mingi’s forearm, he wears what seems like a pleading gaze, big eyes staring up at him and silently asking for something else.
Mingi’s feeling truly mean.
“Words. And don’t kick me this time.” he warns, not threatening but standing his ground.
It’s not an issue to put up with Yunho’s attitude, because Mingi has one of his own and if he wants to go down that alley, Mingi gladly will.
Yunho sucks in a deep breath, clearly vexed by Mingi’s demand, but he’s not in the most comfortable place to refuse giving in.
“I need you to speed up. That's enough of this. Put the condom on and move. Please.” it’s as sassy as it is powerless, which Mingi likes.
He pulls out and cleans his fingers on his shirt before yanking it off over his head. Yunho goes to do the same, but Mingi stops him just as the fabric is pulled over the softness of his tummy.
Yunho looks confused.
“Leave it on. You look great like this.” he’s not argued against, because what could Yunho say?
Mingi doesn’t get rid of his pants fully, instead pulling them down enough to free himself, and he’s more than happy with the attention Yunho is giving him. He has the eyes of a hungry hawk, staring as Mingi rolls on the condom and drips some more lube over the latex, just to make the slide easier.
Yunho has his legs pulled so his ass is closer to Mingi’s crotch and his breath hitches, involuntarily.
A moment of silence follows. Mingi looks puzzled and Yunho wonders if he can start getting impatient when he realizes that Mingi is actually calculating how they should do it.
He doesn’t give him space to ponder any longer.
“Let go of my legs. I’m gonna turn around.” Mingi is pretty obedient considering he’s thinking mostly with his dick.
He sits on his heels again, giving enough room so that Yunho can turn around and spread his legs apart once more, holding his weight on his knees and forearms. That’s a position he’s always wanted to try, because Mingi looks irresistible like that and Yunho wants it too. He wants to look good for Mingi and make him feel good. Yunho feels the best when he takes Mingi that way.
It seems to work, given Mingi’s groan.
There’s not much talking after that. Mingi holds Yunho by his waist – soft, meaty, squishy waist –, not before landing a slap on the ass he has on display, and doesn’t wait to start pushing in, guiding his way with his free hand.
Yunho’s tight, very, but Mingi is persistent and takes his time going in and out, tip first then fitting the rest, taking the lack of complaints from Yunho’s part as a green light. And maybe, just maybe, he’s having too much fun watching him struggle to keep himself from making noises, but that’s just another thing they won’t talk about.
Mingi bottoms out and gives Yunho maybe half a minute to breathe.
The pace he goes for is slow at first, because he has been in Yunho’s place before and he’s not a douche, but it’s not exactly easy to keep it like that. It feels too good; Mingi wants to move faster, deeper, but that is a two-way road and he can’t just do as he pleases without thinking of Yunho.
Yunho, who bites the pillow under his hold like his life depends on it and tries his hardest to think of rainbows and pretty flowers.
He considers whether or not it is worth it to go through all that to get a smear of pleasure. It takes so long, to both get ready and to start feeling good once he’s at it. Truth is, it hurts like hell. His butt, his back, his legs and his shoulders. He can barely even breathe like this and his head feels too heavy.
Minutes go by and nothing changes.
Yeah, it is not going to work.
“Mingi, stop.” he does, right away, halfway out. Doesn’t move back or further. “It’s not working. It hurts.” the confession made in a wavering voice is laced with shame, because Yunho really wants it, but not in that way.
Mingi pulls out at that, runs a soothing hand over the small of his back and distances himself significantly.
Yunho misses the proximity. He wants to scream.
“That’s ok. You want to do something else? I can blow you if you want. Or I can leave too, no problem. You choose, really. Whatever makes you feel good.” that’s not a conversation to have while ass up face down, so he turns to his side and tries to face Mingi.
The expression he wears is a sweet one, full of understanding, and Yunho feels horrible. Awful even.
“No, that’s… I don’t want you to leave. And I want you to… I want you to keep going.” confusion crawls in between the tenderness of Mingi’s features. Yunho gulps. “It’s just that I don’t think… I don’t think it’s gonna work like that. Can we try another position?” Mingi’s smile is comforting, reassuring and disgustingly gentle.
Yunho feels like throwing up.
“Of course. Look, when I bottom, I like to be on my back. It’s the most comfortable for me because it doesn’t strain any limbs and I get to look at your face.” no, they also will not talk about whatever that sentence meant. “So you can lay on your back for me and we try again, how’s that?” all Yunho can do is nod, embarrassed enough of the whole situation to not talk any more.
Mingi goes out of his way to make sure he’s comfortable. Fluffs the pillow under his head, shifts his legs so they’re nice and spread and kisses him on the mouth once again, all while subtly touching Yunho to full hardness. The kiss is wet and sloppy; Yunho feels lightheaded, can’t help but gasp against Mingi’s lips and twitch under his ministrations. It feels good to be close, to have Mingi’s weight on top of him and be able to touch his skin, warm and smooth under his palms.
The kiss is broken and he chases after it, on the edge of wanton, but Mingi smiles once again, lips as red as his cheeks, glasses blurry and crooked on the bridge of his nose.
“I got you. Now I’m gonna go in again, ok? You tell me if you want to stop, don’t pretend it feels good if it doesn’t. Promise?”
“Mhm. Promise.”
It doesn’t feel good. At first.
Yunho can’t lie, this is way better. It’s the nearest to a perfect fit, if he’s being honest. Thinking of it now, he does feel kinda stupid for wanting to do something sexy and funny by shoving his ass on Mingi’s face when he could be laying down and sparing his back, but he’s gonna shine the light on that later. For now, what he does want to focus on is the pressure – still there, although not even nearly as strong as before – and the new angle, that sure enough feels different. Mingi has the patience of a monk, moving so slowly Yunho would rather die had he been on his skin, but as much as he’s sorry, he can’t hide his gratefulness.
Thanks to Mingi and his self-restraint, he gets to feel it.
It’s not like it is the first time he’s ever been fucked, but he may or may not had been high off his ass the two other times it had happened, with a an old casual hook-up not even nearly as gifted as Mingi, so this basically counts as a first-not-so-first full experience.
And goddamn, what an experience.
It’s close to impossible, breaking down what he feels. His lungs are on fire and he sweats profusely, the fabric of that stupid sleeping shirt clinging to his skin annoyingly, but he still wants to be engulfed by Mingi and his warmth so that there’s not one inch of his body that hasn’t been touched by it. He shivers all over; it’s too sensitive where Mingi’s hands are, fingers dug strongly on each side of his middle, and he’s so aware of the moment he picks up his speed that he ends up giggling, half feverish. It’s still a little odd. The feeling of fullness is one he’s not really used to, but it should be a sin, to feel so good simultaneously.
“Can I go harder?” his soul nearly leaves his body at the question, because truly, who asks that? With that voice? Breathing the way that Mingi is?
“Yeah.” the answer is pitifully whiny, an expected outcome of Yunho’s currently messy brains, if he’s sincere.
Harder Mingi goes and Yunho’s back arches off the bed.
He’s not remotely close to being a pain slut, but the inner part of his thighs burn real good and not being able to breathe for a moment has his limbs tingly. The bed is creaking and it would be obvious to any passerby what they’re doing, but Yunho can’t give a fuck.
Not this fuck. He can’t give up this fuck, not even if God itself asked him to.
The way Mingi holds him feeds his brain and its fantasies beyond what can be considered comfortable, so he gives up on listening to it. He doesn’t want to put any thought on the thumbs stroking his skin, on the palms keeping his lower back arched and off the mattress. The same palms that eventually go down to his thighs to squeeze at them lovingly, contrary to the very harsh speed he’s being rammed into.
He doesn’t want to think about it.
Instead he thinks of the way each thrust brushes just right where he needs it the most and past it, but it’s still not enough. It’s a never ending agony, because he’s one push away from getting what he wants but it doesn’t matter how deep Mingi goes, it’s not there. He’s starting to feel too much, on a scale he doesn’t recall feeling before. He needs it so bad, and Mingi is giving it to him like a damn pro, yet nothing but the overwhelming urge of closing his legs and pushing him away comes from it.
Hands hook under his knees and they’re pushed against his chest. Yunho is bent in half.
A sob creeps up his throat.
“What the fuck.” he mutters out, shaky, because every ounce of control just slipped through his fingers and he doesn’t know what to do.
His tears come rapidly, spilling from the corners of his eyes like they were never supposed to be kept in, and he’s so mortified he drapes an arm over his face, his last attempt at gathering some of his dignity.
Mingi squeezes his thighs with what looks like concern.
“Yunho? Let me see your face.” an avid head shake is what he gets as a response. Yunho is evidently trembling under him. “Why not? What’s wrong?” he slows down at that, beyond worried to do otherwise.
Yunho whimpers. Audibly.
“I’m fucking crying and I don’t know why and I’m embarrassed. Can you please keep going? I feel like I’m going to die if you stop.” his speech is stern but his voice is far from it.
Mingi doesn’t have to be told twice.
He bends Yunho further, resumes his movements and lets him cry.
Yunho’s arm is insistent because that’s the last thing he can do to save himself. He turns his face to the side, grabs the sheets on his reach and finally succumbs.
The image is one that is gonna haunt Mingi in his dreams for the rest of his life.
Yunho is a mess. He’s breathing hard, an uncoordinated order of huffs and gasps and sobs, his face is as red as a cherry and his body has gone slack, totally pliant and open and submissive.
Mingi had no clue Yunho could do that. That he could let himself go that much, that he could get so needy and vulnerable. That he could cry from it. Yunho didn’t seem to know either, given his reaction. He has no idea of what’s gotten to him. Maybe he had been craving it too much. Yes, they had spent periods longer than two weeks without touching each other, but who knows? It could be that he’s just particularly sensitive tonight. He doesn’t bottom and he had almost screwed it. Oh, and there’s also the sweeping, brainwashing feeling that he’s going to cum at any second with his dick untouched, but it never gets there.
He’s been tiptoeing that line for the last couple of minutes. He can’t tell how many, all he knows is that his tears won’t stop and he’s about to beg Mingi to do something when it happens.
Mingi opens his legs further, seems to find a way to lower himself so he has his face close to Yunho’s and he’s so impossibly deep that he can’t take it anymore. His eyes snap open, his breath stops and his whole body seizes as he comes over his own tummy and partially on the hem of his pajama shirt, though that doesn’t register right away. His mind goes blank, so much that it feels like it has been detached from the rest of him, and he’s weightless for a moment before noticing that Mingi is shaking too.
It takes a while to come down and grasp where he is, what is happening and how he feels. He’s in his room, for sure. With Mingi’s whole weight on top of him and oh, he’s not moving anymore. Yunho realizes he has come, considering how boneless he feels against his body. His legs are bent but they have been put down and his feet touch the mattress. They’re shaking so hard the bed still creaks, so Yunho flattens them on the mattress and stares at the ceiling while Mingi doesn’t move.
Well. It’s done. Yunho wanted it and he got it. He has come with things up his ass before, maybe once or twice, but never had he come from something up his ass solely, and he is an honest man. That had been the best fucking orgasm of his whole life. There’s some things he would rather erase or just bury six feet under, such as his obnoxious crying, the feeling of helplessness that he had despised and his mortifyingly shameful attempt at taking the lead and spicing things up, but other than that, it was really good. Maybe he would go through all of that again if it means he gets to feel this way.
Mingi pulls out, painfully slow, and wiggles to fit by his side on the bed.
It’s silent. Yunho’s legs still twitch occasionally.
“Are you going to clean up?” Mingi asks first while getting rid of the condom. He’s not one to stand the silence.
“Yeah, in a bit. I just need a moment.” Yunho’s reply is almost slurred, because he doesn’t feel one single bone in his body.
“Bet. You need help?”
“Nah, I’ll be good.” he’s not even sure he can stand up. “Are you going to clean up, though?”
“Of course, but I think showering will be too suspicious. Do you have wet wipes?”
“Inside the drawer.”
Mingi gets the wipes. It’s silent again.
“You see, Yunho, next time you can just come to my room. You know. Because I’m there by myself.” he’s cleaning himself as he speaks, and it seems natural the way he goes to clean Yunho as well, with a new wipe, ignoring his previous dismissal of any help and as nonchalant as he can be.
“I know. I just didn’t want to disturb.”
“Well, you did it either way. You texted me.”
“You could’ve said no.” it’s true.
“You’re right. But you could’ve asked to go to my room instead. I have a feeling that you kicked San out for this and as much as I don’t really care about where he sleeps, I still think it’s a bit reckless of you.” Yunho feels pressured.
He won’t tell Mingi he didn’t suggest going to his room because he never wants to leave once they’re done and sleeping together is way beyond whatever they’ve agreed upon, which, truly, hasn’t been defined. It’s just that Yunho feels like there’s too much of Mingi there and too much of Mingi is never good.
“He went to Wooyoung’s room because he wanted to. I didn’t kick him out. I just realized I was going to be alone for the night and took the opportunity. You don’t gotta worry so much.” he also doesn’t mention how upset he feels that Mingi deems what they do as reckless.
It is. And Yunho is the most timorous about somebody finding out about them. But it doesn’t sting any less and he’s not fond of the feeling, he realizes.
“Either way, just come to my room next time. My bed is bigger.” he says as he stands up, reaching for his shirt on the floor and putting it on.
It’s as awkward as it was when Mingi first entered the room, if not more. He stares at Yunho’s still half naked figure, at the bedside lamp, at the wrinkled sheets and doesn’t know what to say.
He’d like to stay longer.
“Don’t forget to take out your trash.” but he’s not allowed to, so it’s better to keep things as they are.
“Will not.”
“Also, organize your desk. It’s nasty.”
“Yeah, fine.”
“So. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mingi.”
Just as he’s walking out, he remembers.
“Oh, Yunho, also. If you ever happen to cry again, don’t cover your face. It’s pretty hot.”
He misses the pitiful, flustered sound Yunho makes into his pillow.
[…]
It’s the next morning and Mingi rises early. Not because he wants to, but because he couldn’t have had more than 3 hours of sleep if he’s guessing and it’s useless to keep trying, so up he goes.
Saying he’s pissed would be an understatement. He doesn’t usually have trouble sleeping, but it ruins his whole day when it happens and all he needs for now is some well deserved coffee to knock some sense into his brains so he can stop thinking about Yunho.
Having to deal with him and pretend he wasn’t balls deep into his butt last night is enough.
He expects to see either Seonghwa or Yeosang in the kitchen, maybe Wooyoung. They’re the early risers, so it only makes sense.
Hongjoong greets him instead. On his patrick star pajamas, with a mug of fuming tea in hand and looking exactly like the last time Mingi had seen him. Which had been the night before.
He frowns, suspecting he hadn’t even slept at all.
“Rise and shine.” it’s what he says, clearly judging Mingi’s state. Yes his hair looks a mess, his clothes are disheveled and he definitely needs a shower. That is his next step to follow.
Coffee first.
“You’ve been here all night, haven’t you?” he goes to start the coffee machine, standing in front of it as he waits for the miracle to happen.
“Positive. Also, Mingi, did something happen last night?” his body freezes so hard his butthole clenches.
There’s no way.
“Huh… What do you mean?” playing dumb seems like the safest option to save his skin, already not fond of his racing heart at 6am sharp.
“I don’t know. You went to Yunho’s room last night and then today he left to jog with Yeosang so I thought something could’ve happened.”
“Wait, jog?” his frown deepens, because–
“That’s what I’m saying, Yunho doesn’t jog.” Hongjoong seems to complete his thoughts. “And, like, he seemed really distraught. Is something bothering him?”
Mingi wants to say yes, because for Yunho to jog or engage in any physical activity that exceeds dancing, something really must’ve happened, but he doesn’t know. Well, they happened. Is it what’s bothering him?
Did he lay sleepless all night too?
“I don’t really know, Hyung. I went to his room last night because we’re watching One Piece. He didn’t tell me anything.” they haven’t watched One Piece in more than a month.
“I see.” a raise of his eyebrow gives away that he has not believed one word Mingi said. “Maybe you should talk to him later.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Mingi’s coffee is ready.
His heart settles back in place as he leans against the kitchen counter and allows himself to soak in the taste of toasted beans. Hongjoong still has his laptop open, his tea doesn’t fog the clear glass as much anymore and the silence is actually pretty comfortable for once. He doesn’t think of the fact that he and Yunho could’ve been caught red handed and he wouldn’t know what to say to dodge the bullet. He also doesn’t think of how Yunho must be feeling to go as far as waking up early to jog. He most definitely does not think that they’re digging a rabbit hole and they both are certainly going to end up stuck.
He doesn’t. He really does not.
The washing machine is running.
“What are you washing so early?” because nobody else would’ve woken up at crack ass of dawn to run some laundry on a Wednesday.
Hongjoong goes rigid. His eyes blow wide, his hand stills on the keyboard and his face pales so quickly Mingi actually thinks he’s having the first symptom of a sudden illness.
But then, he chuckles.
“Uh… sheets. I’m washing my sheets. Dropped coffee on them. You know how it is.” no, Mingi doesn’t, because he doesn’t eat in his own bed.
He nods. Hongjoong doesn’t drink coffee anymore.
They both accept not knowing the truth behind each other’s lies.