Chapter Text
Wonwoo always tells his friends that he loves the winter. Seoul, he thinks, is at its most beautiful blanketed in a layer of snow. He always loves the city, but there’s a certain magic that snow brings- dampened street noise, cancelled work, extended mornings in bed with Mingyu.
Wonwoo maybe loves the winter a little less when it’s his turn to run down the street for coffee the night after a snowstorm. Mingyu had made the same comment before Wonwoo had left their apartment, and Wonwoo had refuted the idea. Hopping over a puddle of slush on the sidewalk, he wishes he hadn’t been so eager to prove his boyfriend wrong that he’d skipped the winter boots in favor of sneakers.
“You’re just a baby about snow,” Wonwoo had joked, “It’s only a ten minute walk.”
Needless to say, his socks are soaking wet and one of his toes is numb in a way that is beginning to make him nervous. He perseveres on his journey, determined to prove to Mingyu that winter is his favorite season even when he isn’t hiding out in their apartment.
Someone exits the coffee shop as Wonwoo approaches it. He can feel the heat wafting out of the building from two doors down and picks up his pace. His foot catches a patch of ice just before he reaches the door and slips out behind him. He throws his arms out in front of him in a desperate attempt to protect his face from hitting concrete. Wonwoo’s elbows hit the ground. His forearms scrape the sidewalk hard, his sweater doing very little to pad the impact.
He sits back on his ankles and peels his hands off the ground. They’re all scraped up and throbbing. The ice is stained with his blood, a clear trail where his arms skid across the sidewalk. It’s a health hazard, probably. He blinks tears out of his eyes and looks around. The streets are, thankfully, empty. He would thank the snow for that under different circumstances. Wonwoo stands and wipes his hands on his jeans, then covers them with his sleeves. He takes stock of himself. His heart is fucking hammering, and his arms sting, but he’s fine. He shakes it off and walks into the coffee shop hoping to leave the whole thing behind him.
“Hey, are you okay?”
It’s the first thing he hears when he enters the cafe. His Leaving The Whole Thing Behind Him plan is off to a poor start. Wonwoo blushes deep red, overwhelmingly embarrassed about the attention. There are, luckily, very few people inside the establishment. Seungkwan is the barista today, and seems busy with one of the espresso machines, completely unaware of his fall. The only patron- and his only witness- is a short guy making his way towards Wonwoo from his table by the window.
“Oh, uh, I’m okay. You know how winter is,” Wonwoo attempts to laugh the situation off.
Short Guy keeps walking towards him, eyebrows furrowed.
“No offense, man, but you don’t look okay,” the guy tells him.
Wonwoo frowns, but looks down at himself. His left arm is alright, but he’s torn a hole clean through the right arm of his jacket and sweater. His scraped up arm is visible, blood beading up in the wounds.
“Oh. Uh, I guess I didn’t notice,” Wonwoo says, holding his arm behind himself.
The stranger frowns at him and then looks towards Seungkwan.
“Hey, Seungkwan!” he calls, “Do you have a first aid kit here?”
Seungkwan looks up at them and nods at Wonwoo in recognition.
“In the bathroom, I think. What’s wrong?” Seungkwan asks.
“Ice,” Wonwoo responds, holding up his arm.
“Oh, gross. Please help him Jihoon, I can’t do blood. Sorry Wonwoo,” Seungkwan apologizes. His face is scrunched up in disgust as he turns around and tacks on, “I’ll make your regular order while you deal with… that?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Wonwoo replies.
He follows Jihoon to the single stall bathroom and stands uncomfortably in the doorway. Jihoon crouches on the ground near the sink and rummages through the cabinet for the cafe’s first aid kit.
“You really don’t have to help me. I live five blocks away,” Wonwoo says.
“You’re actively bleeding,” Jihoon says.
It doesn’t really negate Wonwoo’s point, but the tone of Jihoon’s voice is enough to shut Wonwoo up. Jihoon stands abruptly, slapping a large box onto the counter.
“Found it! Why don’t you wash your arms off while I look for gauze?” Jihoon instructs.
It is painful to pull off his jacket. He does it with as little fanfare as possible, regardless, not wanting to bring even more attention to himself than Jihoon- a complete stranger- is already forcing on him. The soap and water hurt a hell of a lot more. He winces through it. He knows he’s left tiny specks of gravel in his wounds. He’s hopeful that Jihoon ignores it. He’ll ask Mingyu to take care of it once he’s home.
“If you sit down on the toilet I can put some antiseptic ointment on you before we bandage you up,” Jihoon says.
Wonwoo wordlessly complies. He sits on the toilet and extends his forearms.
“You did a pretty shitty job washing your arms,” Jihoon says.
The words are mean, but he’s laughing. Up close, his round face is cute. Very cute.
“I don’t know if you can tell, but it kind of hurts,” Wonwoo says.
He means it as a joke, but he forgets how his dry tone can be off putting to people who are unfamiliar with his sense of humor. Jihoon eyes him momentarily, and then laughs again. Wonwoo smiles.
“I’m gonna grab a towel from Seungkwan, I’ll be right back,” Jihoon tells him.
Alone on the small toilet, Wonwoo takes a deep breath. Injury aside, he’s feeling nervous. He isn’t typically fond of strangers but he isn’t anywhere close to dreading the next few minutes with Jihoon. Maybe it’s just the knight act, but Jihoon is… something.
Jihoon comes back into the room and immediately soaks his newly obtained towel in soap and water. Wonwoo checks him out while he’s at the sink. He’s got this red turtleneck on that practically envelops the bottom half of his face. Something about the way it contrasts with the masculine energy Jihoon exudes is alluring as hell.
“You don’t have to stare, I’m not going to hurt you,” Jihoon says.
Wonwoo averts his gaze, stares down at the floor in shame.
“Says the man about to scrub gravel out of my wounds,” Wonwoo retorts.
“Fine, I’m not going to hurt you much ,” Jihoon chuckles.
Wonwoo fixes his eyes on the ceiling as Jihoon starts cleaning his arms, not too keen to see his broken skin sliding around. It hurts a whole fucking lot.
“Oh, my god, this is horrible,” Wonwoo says.
It comes out of him automatically, an instinctual reaction to the intense stinging in his arms. He wishes he were able to save a little bit of face in front of Jihoon, but that seems well out of the realm of possibility today.
“You’re really a bleeder, huh?” Jihoon comments, ignoring his complaints.
“Not usually, no,” Wonwoo grimaces.
“Huh.”
“That’s not very reassuring,” Wonwoo frowns.
“No, no. It’s not that much blood. You’re fine. Probably,” Jihoon says, voice high.
“Your tone of voice is also not particularly reassuring,” Wonwoo says.
He glances down at Jihoon. The guy is smiling again. Wonwoo checks out his arms. There’s no blood.
“You lied,” Wonwoo says.
“I thought it would distract you from the pain,” Jihoon tells him.
“That’s insane,” Wonwoo laughs.
“Worked, though,” Jihoon responds. He turns his body to rifle through the first aid kit and continues, “I’ll gauze you up and send you off, yeah?”
“Yeah. Thanks for this,” Wonwoo says.
“No problem. Seungkwan really is terrified of blood, it was as much for him as it was for you,” Jihoon says.
Right. Of course it wasn’t all for Wonwoo- they’re strangers.
“How do you know Seungkwan?” Wonwoo asks.
“Oh, my- my best friend went to college with his best friend, all of us are pretty tight now,” Jihoon explains.
“Right. Classic friendship chain. That’s kind of how I know him, too,” Wonwoo says.
“Really? Can’t believe I’ve never seen you at any of his parties,” Jihoon says.
“I’m not really a party guy,” Wonwoo says, “I mostly see him and Seokmin here.”
Jihoon just nods at him, focused on wrapping gauze around his forearms. For how short he is, his hands are big.
“So, your job gave you a snow day?” Jihoon asks.
He’s finished bandaging Wonwoo, so Wonwoo gingerly rolls his sweater sleeves down.
“Uh, sort of. I’m an author, so I gave myself the day off,” Wonwoo explains.
“Oh, shit, that’s cool. Have you written anything I might have read?” Jihoon asks.
“Uh- probably not. I’m working on a book with a publishing company right now, but it won’t be out for awhile,” Wonwoo explains.
“But you’ve sold other things, too?” Jihoon presses.
“Sort of. Yeah.”
“Come on, tell me,” Jihoon laughs.
He’s still crouched on the floor of the bathroom, staring up into Wonwoo’s eyes. Wonwoo doesn’t normally tell strangers about the kinds of books he’s published, but Jihoon knows Seungkwan, and Seungkwan is one of the gayest men Wonwoo has ever laid eyes on, so it’s probably safe, right?
“For awhile I was making rent by publishing gay erotica,” Wonwoo says.
Jihoon could not look more pleased.
“You’re clumsy and you write porn. Incredible,” Jihoon says.
“Come on, I’m not clumsy, I just wore sneakers. There’s not enough traction, I didn’t stand a chance,” Wonwoo defends himself.
“Sorry, I guess I should change it to you’re stupid and you write porn,” Jihoon teases.
“You’re mean,” Wonwoo narrows his eyes.
“I just tended to your wounds. I’m an angel,” Jihoon says.
“Maybe one of those horrific biblical angels with ten thousand eyes,” Wonwoo retorts.
Jihoon slaps him on the knee.
Wonwoo does not want to leave this bathroom.
Shit.
“Hey, uh, since we’re technically connected through Seungkwan, you want to exchange numbers?” Wonwoo asks.
“Are you trying to lure me into your porn empire, Wonwoo?” Jihoon asks.
Wonwoo thinks he might pass out. He struggles to come up with some sort of flirty retort for about five seconds, something like the characters in his novels might say. Instead all he comes up with is a shaky:
“Ha, no, no. No, no. Just thought we could like, text. You know?”
Fully saving no face at all today. Great.
“Give me your phone, dumbass,” Jihoon snorts.
Wonwoo complies.
“I texted myself so I’ll have your number,” Jihoon tells him, handing the phone back, “But we should probably get out of the bathroom now.”
The cafe is still empty when they exit the bathroom together. Seungkwan has hopped up on the counter and is sitting criss-cross on it. Wonwoo thinks that it must violate some sort of health code standard, but he also figures that assholes like himself are the only reason Seungkwan had to trek into work during a snowstorm, so he doesn’t have much room to complain.
“You still dying?” Seungkwan asks.
“Nah, I saved him,” Jihoon answers.
“No blood,” Wonwoo confirms, holding up his arms.
“Uh, okay. Sure. I put your lattes over there. You wanted one for your boyfriend too, right?” Seungkwan asks, pointing towards the opposite end of the counter.
Wonwoo feels Jihoon go stiff next to him. He wasn’t- they weren’t explicitly flirting or anything, but they were definitely doing something close enough to it for Wonwoo to feel uncomfortable about that disclosure. He, again, tries to think of a way to slip in a quick explanation, but fast thinking isn’t his strong suit.
“Um. Yeah. Yup. Thanks,” Wonwoo forces out, “I should… probably head back. Been gone for awhile.”
“Um… okay?” Seungkwan answers, looking at Wonwoo like he’s the dumbest person in the world.
“Careful out there in your sneakers,” Jihoon says.
“Yeah,” Wonwoo says, sliding cash towards Seungkwan, “I’ll text you sometime?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Jihoon says.
Wonwoo walks back to his apartment very, very slowly. The coffee cups kind of hurt his hands. A sticky feeling brewing in his chest distracts from the pain. He- he didn’t do anything wrong with Jihoon. He’s in a polyamorous relationship. He’s allowed to flirt. He kind of wishes he’d somehow communicated that to Jihoon, but that’s- that isn’t the thing eating him up right now.
Wonwoo re-enters the home that he shares with Mingyu in a cloud of anxiety. He kicks off his shoes in the entryway and trails through the apartment into the bedroom. Mingyu has managed to sit up during Wonwoo’s lengthy absence. He’s watching videos on his phone, his face bright with laughter.
“Babe, come watch the video Minghao just sent me. Dino and Vernon got wasted at his place last night,” Mingyu says.
Wonwoo places their coffees on Mingyu’s bedside table and throws himself across Mingyu’s legs.
“Can I watch it later?” Wonwoo mumbles into the blanket.
“Bad time out there? You took forever, were they busy?” Mingyu asks as he tosses his phone on the bed.
Wonwoo rolls up his sleeves in response, groaning again.
“Wonwoo, holy shit, what happened?” Mingyu asks.
“I fell,” Wonwoo whines.
He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them off. Mingyu looks at him with vague concern as he crawls up to his spot in bed and slips under the covers.
“And broke both of your arms?” Mingyu questions.
“I bled all over the snow, figured I probably shouldn’t bleed all over the cafe too,” Wonwoo explains.
Mingyu runs a hand through his hair and doesn’t say anything. Wonwoo can practically feel him vibrating.
“You want to give me shit about the sneakers, don’t you?” Wonwoo asks.
“No- no, babe, you’re hurt , I would never ,” Mingyu chokes out.
“I can hear you laughing, ass,” Wonwoo says.
“No, I’m just- I’m crying! I’m so sad, Wonwoo! I hate to see you hurt!” Mingyu laughs openly.
Wonwoo springs up to straddle Mingyu, pinning him to the bed, and grabs his nipples through his shirt.
“Ow! Oh, my god, bitch!” Mingyi laughs.
“What, only funny when I’m hurt?” Wonwoo teases.
“Yes! You know my nipples are sensitive!” Mingyu whines.
“My arms are missing skin , but you’re complaining about some light nipple play?” Wonwoo jokes, pinching Mingyu’s nipples a little tighter.
“Ew, missing skin? God you’re gross,” Mingyu chuckles.
“Actually, though, twisting your nipples hurts my hands,” Wonwoo frowns.
He displays his hand-wounds to Mingyu, the only part of his body Jihoon hadn’t been able to bandage for practical using-his-hands reasons. Mingyu stops laughing and traces over the cuts gently. His hands are different from Jihoon’s- wide where Jihoon’s had been long. The way he handles Wonwoo so delicately in spite of his strength sends butterflies to the pit of Wonwoo’s stomach.
“Can I?” Mingyu asks, pulling at the hem of Wonwoo’s now-tattered sweater.
Wonwoo nods and allows his boyfriend to undress his upper body. Mingyu takes a look at the gauze-work and, seeming satisfied, reaches for one of the many shared hoodies they’ve left discarded on their bed. Wonwoo puts it on, thankful to be out of the ruined sweater.
“Did Seungkwan patch you up? I’ll have to thank him tomorrow morning,” Mingyu says.
He places his hands on Wonwoo’s hips and Wonwoo’s heart starts racing.
“No- uh, one of Seungkwan’s friends was there. He helped me out. Apparently Seungkwan is terrified of blood,” Wonwoo explains.
“Of course he is,” Mingyu rolls his eyes.
“I- uh,” Wonwoo wants to say something about Jihoon, but he doesn’t know what this conversation is supposed to look like. He definitely wishes that he weren’t straddling his boyfriend while he tries to figure it out, but he doesn’t want to make things worse by un-straddling him.
“What?”
“He- I- his friend’s name is Jihoon,” Wonwoo says.
“Jihoon- that sounds familiar. Does Vernon know him too or something? Hey- why are you blushing?” Mingyu asks.
“I- he-” Wonwoo stops talking, praying that Mingyu catches on.
“Did he do something weird?” Mingyu asks instead.
Wonwoo leans his body to the right and falls onto his side of the bed, burying his face in the pillow. He groans, stalling for time. He’s not obligated to tell Mingyu every time he feels like he might be interested in someone. It doesn’t come up much, though. Hasn’t come up to the point where it feels… heavy now that it’s happening.
“I just hate embarrassing myself in front of people,” Wonwoo says.
It isn’t the whole truth but my god he is embarrassed about having fallen in front of Jihoon.
“Sorry babe. It’s just Seungkwan’s friend, though. The guy must have seen Seungkwan do things a thousand times more embarrassing,” Mingyu reassures him.
Mingyu strokes his hair. The fingers on his scalp sends electricity down his spine. It doesn’t calm him as much as it usually would. Maybe he isn’t as easy to read as he thinks he is but- he was just sitting on top of his boyfriend blushing about another man. Shouldn’t Mingyu have noticed?
“Yeah, you’re right,” Wonwoo says.
He turns his head to look at Mingyu. Mingyu has such fondness in his eyes. Wonwoo can’t help but to smile back at him. His vague annoyance fades completely as Mingyu leans in to kiss him.
“I’m sorry you got hurt getting us coffee,” Mingyu says softly.
“It’s fine. I deserved it. I shouldn’t have worn the fucking sneakers,” Wonwoo amits.
“Want me to make breakfast for us?” Mingyu offers.
“Mmm, I want you to order breakfast from that pancake place I was thinking about walking to after I got us coffee,” Wonwoo says.
“You always say you’re gonna walk there and you never do. Don’t blame falling down,” Mingyu laughs.
“Okay but I really deserve the delivery today. I got hurt,” Wonwoo frowns.
“It’s a snowstorm ,” Mingyu says.
“It was a snowstorm,” Wonwoo argues.
“You’re really going to make someone deliver to us in this weather?” Mingyu asks.
“I know you’re right, but I really, really want them,” Wonwoo says.
“Do you want me to call Jeonghan and ask him for Joshua’s mom’s pancake recipe?” Mingyu offers.
“Mm, no, Jeonghan won’t talk, but Chan got the recipe from Joshua once. Call him,” Wonwoo instructs.
The rest of their morning goes exactly how Wonwoo had imagined when he’d woken up to find the city blanketed in snow. He gets a nap in while Mingyu cooks, and is woken up to the smell of pancakes. They eat breakfast in bed. Mingyu catches him up on the latest drama at his photography shop, and Wonwoo laments about his editor’s notes on the most recent chapter he submitted. They shuffle into the living room carrying their duvet cover with them when they’ve finished their food and start catching up on their Netflix drama.
Wonwoo’s magical snow day is abruptly interrupted when he receives a text from an unknown number. He puts off checking it for twenty minutes, knowing that it must be from Jihoon. When Mingyu gets up to go buy some ramyeon from the corner store across the street, he opens up his texts apprehensively.
From: Unknown
Hey, it’s Jihoon. I was just heading home from the cafe and saw three people slip on the ice. Thought I’d check in with you to make sure you made it home okay.
Wonwoo stalls for time by putting Jihoon’s contact information into his phone. He wonders if Jihoon always texts like that, in paragraph form, or if he’s trying to be more formal with Wonwoo because they don’t know each other well. Wonwoo peeks out the window. He doesn’t see Mingyu heading back across the street, three stories down. He knows he’s coming soon, though.
To: Jihoon
Somehow I made it back alive. Glad to hear I’m not the only one who embarrassed themself in front of you today.
From: Jihoon
In their defense, you were the only one who required medical assistance.
To: Jihoon
Hey, I didn’t need medical assistance, it would have healed on its own. I was just trying to protect Seungkwan and his hemophobia.
From: Jihoon
Using big words doesn’t save face, Wonwoo.
Wonwoo finds himself smiling. It makes him wildly anxious. He checks the window again. Mingyu is standing on the opposite street corner waiting for traffic to come to a stop.
To: Jihoon
You’re mean.
I’ve got to go though- snow day means afternoon bath.
From: Jihoon
Nice, ok. Talk to you later.
But hey do you ever work from the cafe?
I write lyrics there, sometimes.
If you wanted to work together some time.
To: Jihoon
Yeah, I’m always just working from home.
Let me know next time you’re there.
Wonwoo closes his phone. Unease sinks into his gut. Is he- is that a date? Or is Jihoon just looking for a work-from-home buddy?
Mingyu comes back into the apartment with too many bags for him to have bought only ramyeon. Wonwoo doesn’t question it, just sits on the sofa and listens as Mingyu rattles around in the kitchen for fifteen minutes. He comes out with two instant ramyeon cups in hand.
“Uh, what happened?” Mingyu asks, coming to sit next to him.
“What?” Wonwoo responds.
“You look like you got bad news. Publisher email?” Mingyu asks.
Wonwoo becomes aware of the shaking of his leg, of how fast his heart is racing. He does not like feeling this way, especially around Mingyu.
“No. Not a publisher. Jihoon texted me,” Wonwoo says.
“Jihoon?”
“Seungkwan’s friend. From earlier,” Wonwoo explains.
“Oh. Okay. Did… something bad happen?” Mingyu continues.
Wonwoo places his food on the table and leans his head against Mingyu’s shoulder. The close contact is comforting. So is the lack of eye contact.
“No. Nothing bad. It was nice. He’s nice,” Wonwoo says.
“So what’s wrong?” Mingyu presses.
Wonwoo considers telling Mingyu about… whatever it is that he’s feeling for Jihoon. He starts drafting sentences in his head, but none of it makes sense. ‘ Oh hey I really wanted to talk with Jihoon more today and am feeling extraordinarily guilty about it’ doesn’t really seem like the best way to start a conversation. And, knowing Mingyu, his boyfriend is going to get excited about the prospect of Wonwoo liking someone else. Probably more excited than Wonwoo. And he doesn’t- he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want fanfare or praise or support. He just… wants to quietly see if this is something that could actually be a crush, or if his interest is fleeting.
“He wants to co-work with me sometime,” Wonwoo decides to say.
“And that’s a problem because…?” Mingyu asks.
And, yeah. What a fair goddamn question.
“I just… have my routine here. The coffee shop is really loud for working,” Wonwoo says.
“God, that reminds me of that time junior year- was it finals? You got so mad that people were being loud in one of the isolation rooms of the library-” Mingyu starts, but he’s cut off by his own laughter.
“And it turned out to be Jeonghan and Seungcheol, yes, I remember. But see? I need quiet to work,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.
“So just invite him to work here. You always sit on the couch anyway, he can use your desk,” Mingyu suggests.
Wonwoo wishes, just for a passing moment, that Mingyu weren’t so kind and thoughtful.
“I’d rather risk the noise than have a stranger in our house,” Wonwoo says.
“Whatever works for you, babe. I’m gonna start filling up the bath,” Mingyu tells him as he finishes his last bite of food.
Wonwoo eats slowly as he hears the sound of the faucet turn on in the bathroom, considering the uneasy feeling growing inside of him. Wonwoo doesn’t exactly enjoy making new friends. First hang-outs with new people always make him uncomfortable- it’s why he’s avoided the majority of the parties Seungkwan and Seokmin have invited him to, despite having seen them daily at their cafe for the past year and a half.
That’s the thing, though- Wonwoo doesn’t want to go to their parties. He doesn’t like parties. But he does want to get coffee with Jihoon. His excitement about it is just getting muddled up with his anxiety.
“Water’s ready!” Mingyu calls from the bathroom.
Wonwoo brings their disposable bowls to the garbage in the kitchen before heading into the bathroom. Mingyu has set up a whole scene, candles and gentle music and a bath bomb.
“Mmm, is that the lavender one?” Wonwoo asks, adding his clothes to Mingyu’s on the floor.
“Yeah, you seemed like you needed to relax,” Mingyu responds.
“Can you take off my gauze before I get in the tub?” Wonwoo requests, balancing on the rim of the bath.
Mingyu dries his hands off on a towel and carefully unwraps Wonwoo’s bandages. The bottom layer is caked in blood, his arms now rough and scabbed.
“Jesus, these are bad,” Mingyu comments, his warm fingers gently tracing the wounds.
“Worth it to prove you wrong,” Wonwoo says with a straight face.
He steps into the bath and presses his back to the tub. Mingyu playfully splashes him before coming to settle between his legs. Wonwoo bites his ear in retaliation before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s torso.
“I’m just saying, I don’t think it counts as proving me wrong if you got mortally wounded,” Mingyu laughs.
“Whatever,” Wonwoo concedes.
He presses a kiss into Mingyu’s neck and leans his head back against the tub. Mingyu’s buoyant weight on top of him is comforting. Wonwoo allows the soothing heat of the bathwater to cleanse him of his difficult morning. As he basks in the lavender scented bath his mind drifts.
Wonwoo hadn’t been a bath person before he met Mingyu. Even in their questionable college dorms, Mingyu had taken baths. Wonwoo used to joke that it was Mingyu’s only coping skill. Sometime in their junior year Wonwoo had been devastated about some bad grade that he has long since forgotten the details of, and Mingyu had coerced him into a bath. As it turns out, they’re fucking great.
“You need to work on your book when we get out?” Mingyu asks.
“Mmm, no. I finally got through that dialogue I’ve been stuck on, so I’m in pretty good shape,” Wonwoo says.
“Oh, nice. How’d you fix it?” Mingyu asks.
“I just needed to watch some reference material. I’m awful at writing arguments,” Wonwoo explains.
“You watched that fucking video of me and Minghao screaming at each other at each other, didn’t you?” Mingyu sighs.
“It’s a good fight.”
“It was about nothing. ”
“‘ That’s not what I meant, Minghao!’ ‘You never listen to me when I’m drunk, Mingyu!’” Wonwoo mocks.
“Shut up, it was a horrible fight! We didn’t talk the entire train ride home,” Mingyu says. He’s laughing, though. The video makes its way around their friend group every few months or so. Seungcheol made an EDM remix out of it, at some point.
“How long ago was that?” Wonwoo asks.
“What, our fight? Uh- It was before you and Seung- before you and I moved in here. So like three years ago maybe? Two and a half?” Mingyu estimates.
“You can say his name, Gyu,” Wonwoo says.
“Every time I do you hit me with a fuck Seungcheol . Thought it’d be easier to skip that part,” Mingyu says.
“Sorry,” Wonwoo begins. But- “But fuck Seungcheol .”
“Yup, there it is.”
Mingyu sloshes around in the tub until he’s turned around to sit in Wonwoo’s lap. He kisses Wonwoo on the forehead chastely, and then more tenderly on the lips.
“I love you,” Mingyu tells him.
“I love you too,” Wonwoo says back.
Mingyu leans in for another kiss. His knees press awkwardly against Wonwoo’s ribs, Wonwoo’s back arched against the porcelain of the bath. They’re both hard in spite of the discomfort.
“You think I could ride you in here?” Mingyu asks.
“Happy to try,” Wonwoo encourages.
They fumble around, Wonwoo straightening and bending his legs to try to give Mingyu more room as his boyfriend’s weight shifts on top of him.
“If you lift yourself up just a little-” Mingyu says.
Wonwoo presses his arms against either side of the tub and pushes up. He winces immediately.
“Fucking, forgot about my arms,” Wonwoo says, looking at his wounds. His left arm has started bleeding again, the scabs cracked from all his movement.
Mingyu panics at his pain and throws himself backwards. His ass lands hard on Wonwoo’s thighs.
“Okay, we need a bigger tub,” Mingyu laughs.
“We have to stop trying this, one of us always gets hurt,” Wonwoo smiles.
“But I love bathtub sex.”
“I’ll take you to a hotel when I get my royalties from my next book,” Wonwoo promises.
“So stupid that we’re both artists,” Mingyu says.
“One of us has to start dating a generous CEO or something,” Wonwoo suggests.
“You think I’m not trying?” Mingyu laughs.
They start getting out of the tub as they talk, neither of them particularly eager to be sitting in a bath with traces of Wonwoo’s blood.
“How are you trying? You’re dating a writer, a photographer, a- what the fuck do Bambam and Yugyeom even do?” Wonwoo asks.
“Yeah, I don’t know, but whatever it is I don’t think it can be paying for their outfits. Something’s going on there,” Mingyu smiles.
“Can you wash this off for me?” Wonwoo requests, his arms half-submerged in the sink.
Mingyu dotes on him the rest of the night, patting him dry and rebandaging him. Mingyu rides him in their favorite living room armchair and cooks him dinner in the nude. They eat curled up in bed, Netflix running in the background.
“You gonna be able to sneak another snow day in tomorrow? Wonwoo asks.
“No, Jungkook already told all our clients that we’ll be open,” Mingyu says.
“You sound angry.”
“You know I get annoyed when he makes decisions without running them by me,” Mingyu tells him.
“I know. He’s not always good at remembering to tell you his ideas,” Wonwoo says.
“It’s like, not a huge deal. And I’d have told him to open tomorrow, anyway- we have two engagement shoots that we’re really hoping to turn into wedding shoots, and we all know how pissy straight couples get about rescheduling. But the option would have been nice,” Mingyu complains.
“Remind him tomorrow,” Wonwoo suggests.
“Yeah. I will. It’s fine. He and I have that date after work anyway. We can talk about it then,” Mingyu says.
“You gonna stay at his place after?”
“Probably not. This weather really makes me want to be at home in bed,” Mingyu tells him.
Wonwoo smiles at that. They’ve been living here for a year and a half, but it still fills Wonwoo’s heart with warmth every time he hears Mingyu call their place home .
“I like having you here when it’s snowy, too,” Wonwoo agrees.
Mingyu falls asleep early that night. It’s something that’s always been different between them. Mingyu can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. It used to freak Wonwoo out when they’d first met. Wonwoo would look next to himself in class, at a party, on the subway, and a previously chatting Mingyu would be fast asleep beside him. Wonwoo is jealous of it, now. The only comfort he gets from his insomnia are his many memories of laying awake watching Mingyu rest. Tonight, Wonwoo waits for Mingyu to drift off in his arms. He turns on his small bedside lamp and reads until he falls asleep with his glasses still on.