Archive of Our Own

Wonwoo wasn't exactly old, he told himself with a self-deprecating snort whenever he caught his reflection looking too worn down in the bathroom mirror. Just a year older than Mingyu, but it felt like more sometimes. He'd lost a few years to work—stupid, exhausting retail shifts and clerical jobs—so he was only now finishing up his degree. That meant classes during the day, textbooks heavy in his backpack, and part-time babysitting gigs or tutoring in the evenings to pay for rent and meals.

It didn't bother him most days. He liked school. He liked kids, honestly. He was patient enough, and quiet enough, and parents trusted him. But there was a deep, low ache in the evenings. Especially the quiet ones.

He'd go over to Jun and Minghao's place sometimes—his neighbors who were annoyingly domestic in their own way, always inviting him for dinner. He appreciated it, really. They were warm and funny, bickering and affectionate across the table while Wonwoo cleaned his plate gratefully. But when it got late, Jun and Minghao could get enthusiastic at night.

At first, the bed creaking and muffled sounds through the wall had annoyed him. But after a while, he just sighed, rolling over with his pillow over his head. He couldn't even be mad anymore. If anything, it made the silence on his own side of the wall seem even bigger.

It had been years since anyone had really been with him like that. Sure, there'd been flings—a couple drunken, needy nights with classmates or mutuals from the coffee shop—but nothing he'd ever called love. Nothing that lasted.

He was thinking about none of this, really. This was just a brief introduction. Right now, he was just zoning out about what brand of ramyeon to get when a small, solid weight crashed into his legs.

Wonwoo blinked down through his glasses at a kid—big dark eyes, hair flopping over his forehead—hugging his shins like a baby koala.

"Hey, buddy. Where's Mama?" Wonwoo said, crouching carefully.

The kid pouted dramatically. "I don't have a Mama! Only Papa," he declared, bright and unbothered.

Something twisted, sharp, and sad in Wonwoo's chest. Poor kid.

"Alright," he said softly. "Let's go find Papa, then. He's gonna be so sad if you run away like that. Do you want Papa to be sad?"

The kid's lower lip trembled. Tears welled.

"No! I don't want Papa to be sad."

God, that face. Wonwoo's heart was toast. He smiled gently, setting his glasses straight and offering his hand.

"Okay. Let's go. Tell me where you came from."

He let the kid ramble about landmarks in that kid-logic way. Wonwoo asked careful questions, praised him when he remembered details. They walked slowly, hand in hand, Wonwoo's backpack slipping off one shoulder as he listened and guided.

Finally, they rounded a corner near the ATMs, and Wonwoo heard frantic footsteps.

A man—tall, broad, eyes wild—came running toward them.

"Sunoo!"

The kid let go of Wonwoo's hand and ran. The man dropped to his knees on the concrete, grabbing the boy and hugging him tightly.

"Sunoo, oh Sunoo-ya. I was so scared," he breathed, voice cracking, hair windswept and messy. He looked like he'd aged ten years in ten minutes. When the man looked up, eyes glassy, he scrambled to his feet and bowed deeply.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I wanted to use the ATM and he just ran off—I was about to call the cops."

Wonwoo smiled, a little awkward. The guy was hella attractive. Broad shoulders under a worn t-shirt, worried lines around his eyes that somehow made him look even better.

Fuck. Not now, Wonwoo.

"It's fine," Wonwoo managed. "I'm just happy I could help."

The kid turned in his dad's arms, beaming. "Papa! This man is so much fun. I like him!"

They both laughed at that, some of the tension easing. The man shifted the kid to his hip and stuck out his free hand. "Mingyu. And this little sunshine is Sunoo."

Wonwoo shook it. Firm, warm. "Wonwoo."

Mingyu hesitated, biting his lip.

"I really appreciate you helping my kid... How about I treat you to a meal?"

A date? Wonwoo's heart did an undignified leap.

Fuck yeah.

"Sure," he said, fishing out his phone. They exchanged numbers.

Mingyu shifted Sunoo to wave with both hands. "Okay, we'll get going. See you Tuesday."

Wonwoo waved back, trying not to look as thrilled as he felt.

"Byeee!" the kid chirped, and that was that.

__________

They met on Tuesday at a little café.

They talked for hours.

Mingyu told him, with unflinching honesty, about being a single parent. How Sunoo's mom hadn't been in the picture since he was three months old. How he'd been terrified and alone and so damn young. How he'd worked two jobs for years, the exhaustion and the love all tangled up.

Wonwoo listened. Soft, attentive. Admitted his own shit—how he'd worked too long before going back to school, how babysitting and tutoring paid the bills but felt weirdly right, how he liked kids because they didn't expect him to be anything but gentle and patient.

When it was time to pick Sunoo up from school, Wonwoo insisted on coming along.

He watched Mingyu's face light up when Sunoo barreled out of the building, hugging his dad like he hadn't seen him in years.

Wonwoo crouched down, talked to Sunoo at eye-level, asked about school and favorite colors and what kind of dinosaur he'd want to be.

Mingyu watched them with this weird, warm, vulnerable look.

On the walk home, Mingyu cleared his throat.

"H-Hey. You said you babysat, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you babysit my kid? My house isn't too far and—"

"Sure. Text me your address."

Mingyu actually beamed. It made Wonwoo's chest ache.

They said goodbye with easy smiles.

And after that?

It was two years of Babysitting, after-school pickups, gentle bedtime stories, and quiet laughter.

Sunoo was his favorite kid to babysit.

He'd never admitted that to anyone.

__________

The night was deep and quiet. Mingyu was sprawled on the couch in sweatpants and a black T-shirt, one leg over the armrest, the TV bathing the living room in flashes of blue light. A half-finished beer bottle sweated on the coffee table.

He wasn't even really watching—the sitcom laughter track was just static in his ears while he scrolled absently through photos of Sunoo on his phone. His son had been dropped off at his best friend's place for a sleepover around dinner time, and it was supposed to be Mingyu's precious day off. No late meetings, no mad rush to school or the grocery store. But after a few blissful hours of doing absolutely nothing, he found himself missing the small weight of Sunoo asleep against him, the little boy's giggle, the endless "Appa, watch this!"

He rubbed his face. Parenting alone wasn't something he'd planned. Hell, nothing about the last nine years had gone to plan. He'd been barely twenty when Sunoo was born. Mina had been his university girlfriend, a bright-eyed and impulsive woman. They'd tried to make it work, both too young and too stubborn to admit how lost they were.

When Sunoo was only three months old, she'd said she couldn't do it anymore. She hadn't abandoned them cruelly—she sent money when she could, and wrote emails sometimes. But she'd left Korea for a graduate program in Japan and never returned. Mingyu still remembered holding Sunoo that night, pressing his lips to his baby's hair, whispering promises he didn't know how to keep: I won't go anywhere. I'll take care of you. You're my whole world.

He'd finished his architecture degree while juggling jobs at cafés and convenience stores, Sunoo strapped to his chest in a carrier. Now he was established at a mid-sized firm, working decent hours if not great ones. They lived in a medium-sized but tidy apartment near the elementary school. Sunoo was clever and gentle and sunny, and Mingyu would fight the entire world for him.

Tonight was supposed to be rest. But instead of peaceful quiet, it was heavy, empty silence. He felt old. Twenty-nine wasn't old, but he felt it. He shut his eyes. The TV laughed on.

And then there was the knock.

He startled, blinking at the door. Who the hell—? He sat up, checked the time (11:42 pm), and frowned. Maybe Sunoo had gotten homesick? But Seungcheol hyung would have called. And Sunoo loved staying over at Jungwon’s? He got up, absently smoothing his messy hair, and opened the door—

—and there was Wonwoo. Tall, slim, broad-shouldered in his white shirt, thick-framed glasses, hair flopping into his eyes. He carried that usual unreadable expression, somewhere between polite reserve and faint amusement. His mouth twitched into a formal smile.

"Oh, Mr Kim," Wonwoo said, bowing at him a little. "Sunoo?"

Mingyu winced so hard he almost closed the door on himself. "Fuck— sorry. I forgot to text you." He exhaled in embarrassment, pushing his fingers through his hair. "Sunoo is out on a sleepover. I should have told you not to come. God, I'm sorry."

Wonwoo cocked his head slightly. "Ahh, I see. That's fine. I guess I'll get going then—"

But Mingyu panicked at the idea of being alone again, of the silent apartment closing in. "No!" he blurted, too loud. Then softer, awkward, "I—I mean, maybe...since you're here...an appreciation drink? If you don't mind. You've done so much for us, and I feel like I never get to say thank you properly."

Wonwoo blinked at him, then seemed to weigh it in that slow, calm way of his. The corners of his mouth curved just slightly. "Sure. I don't mind."

He stepped in, removing his shoes neatly, looking around the place with his usual unhurried gaze. Wonwoo had been Sunoo's after-school babysitter for almost two years now, ever since he brought him back to the ATM at the park.

Mingyu remembered the first meeting so well—he was drawing out some money from the broken ATM, and the next minute, Sunoo had vanished. He ran around the whole park asking questions frantically, he was ready to call the cops, only to find Sunoo shyly holding Wonwoo's hand near the stupid ATM.

Mingyu had been ready to interrogate him to hell and back, but one look at Sunoo's relaxed smile had settled it. Sunoo had liked him instantly.

It had turned out that Wonwoo was spectacularly good with kids. Patient but not patronizing. He read to Sunoo, helped with his homework, and taught him some weird little facts about animals and astronomy. Sunoo adored him. Mingyu had liked him, too—too much, sometimes. He hated admitting it, but he'd found himself watching the other man too long when he picked Sunoo up. Noting the way Wonwoo's hair fell over his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the surprising warmth in his soft laughter. He'd been determined not to notice. He was a single father, for fuck's sake. He didn't have the time to—

Wonwoo interrupted his memory by stepping into the living room and giving a little approving nod. "Still neat. Even without Sunoo around."

Mingyu chuckled, closing the door behind them. "I cleaned. A little. I had time." He scratched his head. "Let me get you a drink. Beer okay?"

"Sure."

Mingyu fetched two bottles from the fridge, popping the caps and handing one over. They sat on the couch. Mingyu turned the TV off. For a moment it was awkward. Mingyu stared at the floor, rolling the bottle between his palms.

"Seriously," he mumbled after a beat. "Thanks. You're so good to Sunoo. He's always excited on days you're coming."

Wonwoo tilted his head, expression unreadable but softer than usual. "He's a good kid. Smart. Kind. Easy to like."

Mingyu huffed a dry laugh. "Yeah. He's everything." He glanced sidelong at Wonwoo. "Has he ever told you about his mom?"

Wonwoo paused. "Only that she doesn't live with you. He doesn't seem...bothered by it."

"He's used to it." He took a drink. "He doesn't ask about her much. I think he knows. He's too perceptive for his own good."

Wonwoo sipped his beer slowly, gaze steady on him. "He has you. That's enough."

Mingyu coughed out a low laugh, pressing the bottle to his lips to hide his face. "Yeah. Hope so." He risked another glance. "You're...really good with him. Ever think of having your own?"

Wonwoo let out a surprised breath of laughter. "That's...a bit forward." His eyes glinted. "But no. Not yet. Not sure I'm that brave. Or that patient."

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. You're the most patient person I know. I've seen you wait for him to finish telling some long story about his favorite ice cream without even blinking."

Wonwoo shrugged, smiling small but genuine. "He's interesting."

The conversation lapsed again. This time, the silence felt...charged. Mingyu's heart thumped uncomfortably. He picked at the label on his bottle. He was acutely aware of the stretch of couch between them. Wonwoo's leg, clad in black denim, was angled casually toward him. He had one arm slung lazily over the backrest, fingers drumming softly. The overhead light was dimmed to warm yellow. It felt too intimate. Mingyu cleared his throat.

"You...uh...seeing anyone?" he asked too quickly.

Wonwoo arched a brow, clearly amused. "No. You?"

Mingyu barked a laugh. "Ha. Right. Yeah. Like I have time for that." He waved a hand at the apartment. "Single dad. I get maybe three free hours a week and I usually spend them asleep."

Wonwoo's gaze sharpened, just subtly. "But you want to?"

Mingyu blinked. His mouth worked. He huffed. "Fuck. I don't know. Yeah. Maybe. Sometimes. It's...hard." He forced himself to meet Wonwoo's gaze. "Scares me. Letting someone in. Risking Sunoo getting hurt if they leave."

Wonwoo's fingers stopped drumming. His voice was low, quiet. "You're a good father."

Mingyu swallowed thickly. "You don't know that."

"I see it every day." Wonwoo didn't look away. "He's happy. That's you." His hand lands on Mingyu's shoulder, squeezing the firm muscles in an attempt to comfort, but his touch lingered longer than necessary.

Silence fell like a curtain. Mingyu's chest felt tight. The air seemed too heavy to breathe. He realized with a dull, slow horror that he was leaning forward slightly, the bottle forgotten on his knee. Wonwoo hadn't moved. Their knees brushed. Just barely. Mingyu felt the heat of that small touch like an electric jolt.

Mingyu's gaze dropped to Wonwoo's mouth, unmistakably. Then up again. His heart thumped like a drum. "Wonwoo..."

Wonwoo's voice was barely a murmur. "Yeah?"

He swallowed. The words felt thick. Stupid. "This is...probably a bad idea."

Wonwoo's eyes were dark. Intense. "Probably." They didn't move for a moment. Then Wonwoo's mouth quirked the tiniest wicked tilt. "Unless you want to."

Mingyu's laugh cracked. He dropped his bottle onto the table and leaned in. Wonwoo's breath hitched—barely audible, but there. Mingyu stopped an inch from his mouth. The air vibrated with tension. He could feel Wonwoo's warmth. Smell the sharp, clean scent of his cologne, a little beer on his breath.

He hesitated. "I don't want to make shit weird. For Sunoo. For you."

Wonwoo's eyes softened at that. But his hand came up, fingers brushing Mingyu's jaw, slow and deliberate. "Then don't. Don't make it weird. Just...feel good with me?"

Mingyu exhaled, shaking. He closed the final inch. Their lips met, tentative, testing. Wonwoo's mouth was warm, soft, but unyielding. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a question and an answer at once. Mingyu shivered. His hands found Wonwoo's shirt, tugging, pulling him closer. Wonwoo made a low sound in his throat and kissed back harder, his hand sliding to the back of Mingyu's neck.

They parted, breathing hard. Mingyu rested his forehead on Wonwoo's. "Fuck."

Wonwoo huffed a breathless laugh. "Yeah." Wonwoo threw his glasses on the coffee table, and Mingyu knew this was serious.

They kissed again. Deeper. Mingyu pushed him back gently onto the couch, bracketing his sides with his knees. Their bottles clinked dangerously on the coffee table as Mingyu climbed over Wonwoo, pressing him down. Wonwoo's hands slipped under his shirt, fingers hot on his chest. Mingyu groaned into his mouth, hips rocking without thinking.

Wonwoo gasped softly. His hands were firm but gentle, exploring the planes of Mingyu's back. The kiss turned messier. Mingyu bit his lip, dragging a low moan from Wonwoo's throat.

It was electric. Hungry. But not thoughtless. Mingyu pulled back, panting, eyes darting over Wonwoo's flushed face, his mussed hair. "We should—fuck—should we stop?"

Wonwoo's fingers tightened on his shoulders. "Do you want to?"

Mingyu groaned, resting his forehead on Wonwoo's again. "No."

Wonwoo's smile was small, crooked, and hungry. "Then don't."

They kissed again, even rougher this time. Mingyu's teeth scraped along Wonwoo's jaw. Wonwoo's nails dug in just enough to sting. The air was thick with the smell of beer, sweat, and heat. Mingyu pulled back enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere. Wonwoo's eyes darkened, sliding over the lines of his chest, firm muscles that could only be earned with some trips to the gym.

"You're..." Wonwoo's voice cracked slightly. He coughed, laughing once. "Jesus. You look good."

Mingyu snorted. "Shut up." He kissed him again, rougher. Wonwoo laughed against his mouth, then moaned when Mingyu bit his lower lip.

Wonwoo kissed back, hard, and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling away from the kiss only to throw it aside. He pulled Mingyu by his neck, fumbling with the younger's waistband.

Mingyu's lips traced lower, teeth grazing his neck and collarbones as he traced his torso with his calloused hands. Wonwoo whimpered loudly.

Mingyu gripped his thighs tightly and ground down, the friction of their hips clouding their vision and sense into lust, desire, and want.

Mingyu pulls back to look at him, grinning, "Fuck, youre so pretty."

"Get to it, will you~"

Mingyu tilts his head as he observes the older. Wonwoo bucks his hips upwards for more friction, but Mingyu grips his waist with a bruising hold.

"So desperate and eager for some dick huh?

Wonwoo tried to wriggle around, but he couldn't. He pants out, "Can you just hurry up?"

Mingyu decides it was enough teasing and pulls down Wonwoo's jeans with his underwear, leaving him bare. Wonwoo's breath hitches as the cold air hit his heated skin, Cock flattening against his stomach.

Mingyu moves his mouth lower, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down his sternum to his stomach and down to his inner thighs, completely ignoring his hardness. Wonwoo grips his hair tightly, throwing his head back with an embarrassingly loud moan.

Red marks bloom against Wonwoo's trembling pale thighs. Mingyu inserts a slicked finger into the wet, waiting heat. Wonwoo gasps and arches his back. As soon as Mingyu scissored him with the second finger, he removed his fingers, leaving Wonwoo whining at the emptiness.

Mingyu quickly sheds the rest of his clothes and pulls out a condom from the drawer of the coffee table, and rolls it over himself. He slicks himself up with the translucent bottle. He looks as the older chuckles lowly.

"What's so funny?"

"How do you casually have lube and condoms in the drawer?"

"Oh, I get bored and lonely sometimes. Don't worry, the drawer's always locked."

Mingyu jerks off a little; Wonwoo watches him, their eyes meeting, God. The sight was so hot. He always found Mingyu hot. But the whole scenario at the moment was way out of his mind.

He was broken out of his thought by Mingyu pressing the head against the rim. Wonwoo pants heavily, trying to relax. They both groan as Mingyu finally bottoms out; he was buried to the hilt inside this pretty body. He looked at the contrast of their meeting bodies, his tan skin against Wonwoo's pale skin. It was so fucking hot.

It still felt unreal.

Mingyu stays in the same position for a while, letting the older adjust to him. He wanted to move so badly, but he controlled himself. The sounds of heavy panting resonated around the room.

"M-Move, now."

And Mingyu obeys, he moves slowly at first, but starts chasing his pleasure as his hips snapped forward in quick, hard thrusts as he grips the older's hips.

Wonwoo moans and arches at every drag of his hips, his hands clawing at his broad back. It was amazing. His member was trapped between their bodies as Mingyu kept rutting into him.

Wonwoo's ankles dug into the couch, his head thrown back, exposing his throat and chest. Mingyu smirked down at him, and he pulled back and thrusted harder into him. Wonwoo's chest moved by the intensity of each thrust.

"Fuck, You're so—” He grunts "—sexy—shit."

Wonwoo moans underneath him, the sofa creaking lightly. He whines, eyes wet, "Keep going ah~ Faster Mingyu."

Mingyu groaned, hips snapping forward faster, and Wonwoo's body rocked with him. Wonwoo kept digging his nails into his shoulder and down his spine.

"Fuck—close—Mingyu~"

"Me too."

Mingyu groaned, hips stuttering as he released and slumped over Wonwoo, both of them panting heavily.

Mingyu slowly pulls out of him and ties the condom, tossing it into a trash can. Wonwoo sighs and rubs his eyes.

Mingyu laughed softly, muffled. "Shit."

Wonwoo hummed, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Yeah. Shit."

Mingyu twisted to look at him. Wonwoo was watching him steadily, dark eyes soft, careful, vulnerable in a way Mingyu had never seen. Mingyu's chest ached.

"You're staying over," Mingyu said, not a question.

Wonwoo's mouth curved. "Okay."

Mingyu swallowed. "Sunoo comes back tomorrow. Early."

Wonwoo's hand paused, then resumed. "Okay."

Mingyu squeezed his eyes shut. "We'll...figure it out."

Wonwoo's voice was gentle. "Yeah. We will."

And in the quiet that followed, Mingyu believed it. For once, he felt like he didn't have to hold everything up by himself.

Outside the window, the city hummed on. But inside, in the soft dark, they lay wrapped around each other, warm and sure, finally letting themselves just be.

__________

After that first night, it didn't end.

It wasn't supposed to be a pattern. Mingyu had told himself the next morning—awkwardly, shirtless in the kitchen while Sunoo chattered happily about his sleepover—that it had just been a one-off. An indulgence. A moment of loneliness met with warmth. Wonwoo had helped pack Sunoo's bag for school that morning with perfect composure, hair damp from the bathroom sink, refusing Mingyu's eyes with polite calm.

Mingyu had burned with it all day.

But the next Thursday, Sunoo was out again—he had a standing arrangement now to spend Thursday nights with Seokmin and Joshua, old university friends of Mingyu who had adopted two kids, one a little older than Sunoo's age, and the other was younger. It gave Mingyu a break, gave Sunoo the thrill of sleepovers, and in theory was meant to be Mingyu's sacred alone time.

He'd barely managed to tidy the apartment before Wonwoo was knocking.

It had been quiet, tentative at first. Mingyu had stammered out another apology for not warning him—he'd said he was free, Wonwoo had said he was free, and then they'd both laughed, awkward and too loud, like they were kids themselves.

They'd shared a drink on the couch again, closer this time. Mingyu remembered thinking he'd keep it friendly, keep it respectful. He was a father. Wonwoo was Sunoo's babysitter.

But then Wonwoo had touched his knee. Just that. A slow, idle stroke of fingers, unhurried, like he was testing what Mingyu would do. Mingyu's heart had thundered, breath catching in his throat. He hadn't said stop.

And that was it. The line they'd drawn the week before disappeared.

That night, they didn't even pretend to watch TV. Wonwoo had kissed him. Mingyu had hauled him onto his lap, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, muffling his groans in Wonwoo's hair. Wonwoo had cursed under his breath, voice low and breathy in a way Mingyu found completely fucking unfair. He remembered every goddamn sound he made.

They'd stumbled to the bedroom eventually. Mingyu hadn't even planned to let him see it, embarrassed at the toys in the corner, the coloring books, the evidence of single-dad living. But Wonwoo hadn't laughed. He hadn't even looked away. He'd just kissed Mingyu harder, fingers tangling in his hair, pushing him back onto the bed like they had every right to be there together.

Afterward, they'd dozed a little, but Wonwoo left before dawn. Mingyu had lain awake in the gray morning light, listening to Sunoo's empty room creak in the wind, wondering what the fuck he was doing.

But the next week? They did it again.

It wasn't always exactly the same. Sometimes they ordered takeout first. Once they watched half a movie before Mingyu pulled Wonwoo onto him, mouths hot and clumsy. Sometimes it was on the couch. Twice, they made it to the bed. One time, they didn't even bother leaving the entryway, Wonwoo kissing him hard the second the door closed, Mingyu shoving him back against the wall, fingers fumbling at his belt buckle.

It was sex. Good sex. Really good. Mingyu would have liked to lie and say it was just need, that it was stress relief, scratching an itch. But it wasn't just that.

It was the way Wonwoo listened to him. How he let Mingyu talk about work, about Sunoo, about the fear of being a shitty parent. It was how he'd touch Mingyu's cheek sometimes mid-kiss, like it meant something.

But then he'd leave. Every time.

He was careful about it, polite, never cold. Just...detached. Mingyu would try to get him to stay. Once, half-asleep and stupidly vulnerable, Mingyu had muttered, "You can just stay the night, you know. It's fine."

Wonwoo had gone still. Then he'd brushed Mingyu's hair back from his forehead and kissed him gently. "I should go," he'd said softly. "Early class."

It wasn't always a class. Mingyu wasn't dumb. But he didn't push it. He couldn't. He felt so exposed when Wonwoo looked at him too long.

It was Seokmin who noticed first.

One Friday, when Mingyu was picking Sunoo up from their apartment, Seokmin had lingered at the door, leaning against it with that sharp, knowing grin.

"Sleep okay last night?" he'd asked casually, but his eyes were glinting.

Mingyu had snorted. "Fuck off."

Seokmin laughed. "Hey, no judgment. Just...be careful, okay? Sunoo really likes Wonwoo."

That had landed like a stone in Mingyu's gut. He'd almost said I know. But he didn't. He'd just nodded stiffly, collected Sunoo, and tried not to think about it on the walk home.

And Wonwoo was good with Sunoo.

That was the worst part.

They didn't see each other that way in the day. During the week, when Mingyu was working late and Wonwoo was actually babysitting, it was normal. Or as normal as they could manage. Wonwoo was the perfect caretaker—calm, funny, infinitely patient. He helped Sunoo with spelling tests, took him to the park, read to him at night if Mingyu was late. He always greeted Mingyu with a small bow, a formal smile. Mr Kim.

But his eyes would flicker. Just once. Enough that Mingyu felt it all in his chest.

One Wednesday, Mingyu had gotten home early enough to surprise them. He'd stood in the hall for a moment listening to them in the living room. Sunoo was reading aloud from a picture book, stumbling over words. Wonwoo was murmuring corrections, voice low and gentle.

And Mingyu had felt it then. The stupid, terrifying longing.

He wanted this. All the time.

Not just the once-a-week, frantic, sweaty need. Not just the secrecy. He wanted to come home to Wonwoo reading to his son. He wanted Wonwoo in his bed in the morning, sleepy and soft. He wanted to be allowed to love him.

But he didn't say it.

Because when they were alone, Wonwoo was confusing.

He wasn't cold, exactly. In fact, he was almost too careful. He kissed Mingyu like he meant it. He touched him like he was something breakable. He whispered Shhh, you're okay when Mingyu groaned too loudly, mouth mapping his skin like he wanted to memorise every part of him.

But then he always pulled back. Always dressed quietly, accepted Mingyu's awkward post-sex banter with small smiles. Always left.

And Mingyu was too fucking scared to ask why.

It wasn't just sex. He wished it was.

One night they didn't even fuck. He didn't even try to make an excuse when Wonwoo knocked.

"Beer?" Mingyu asked.

Wonwoo shook his head. "Tea."

They sat on the couch in silence, both of them holding mugs. The TV was off. The only light came from the lamp, warm and golden.

Mingyu stared at his tea, the steam curling up. He felt so fucking tired.

Wonwoo didn't push him, but Mingyu could see the want in his eyes. He really wanted to fuck, but every bone in his body screamed in protest.

So Wonwoo just got on his lap and had him in his hand while whispering sweet but dirty nothings into his ear.

It felt so oddly intimate, by intimate, it wasn’t just casual intimate, it was as if they were more.

Nothing else happened that night. When he finally fell asleep, head heavy on Wonwoo's shoulder, he dreamed of having this forever.

But in the morning, Wonwoo was gone.

It was never discussed.
____________

The first time it happened on the couch, Wonwoo swore it would be the last.

But it wasn't.

It kept happening.

Every time Sunoo went to a sleepover—Seokmin and Joshua's place, or a friend's birthday—Wonwoo would find himself standing outside Mingyu's door. Sometimes Mingyu would text, asking if he was free. Sometimes he wouldn't even ask; they'd both just know.

They didn't call it anything.

They didn't talk about it.

Which suited Wonwoo just fine.

Because he was terrified.

He was a mess of contradictions every time they did it. He liked it too much—the way Mingyu handled him, how safe it felt even when it was rough and desperate. He liked the way Mingyu would grin at him, voice husky and teasing, making him burn all over. He liked the stupid little jokes they'd crack in the afterglow, breathless and sweaty and tangled together on the shitty couch.

He liked how Mingyu always made sure he was okay.

He hated how much he liked it.

Because Mingyu was...Mingyu.

A single dad who loved his kid more than anything. A man who was trying so fucking hard to hold his life together.

Wonwoo wasn't supposed to be part of that.

He told himself he couldn't be.

He'd spent years alone for a reason. Studying late, working odd jobs, living small and quiet because it was easier. Because he couldn't fuck it up if there was nothing to fuck up.

Mingyu felt dangerous in the worst, best way.

When Mingyu kissed him slow, Wonwoo's whole chest ached. When Mingyu called him pretty, told him he was perfect, Wonwoo's stomach turned over painfully.

He wanted it.

God, he wanted it.

But he was terrified of what wanting it would mean.

So he kept drawing lines.

He'd leave the second they were done, pulling his shirt back on with shaking fingers, avoiding Mingyu's sleepy, satisfied smile. He'd make excuses about studying, about early classes. He'd tell Mingyu not to get used to it.

He'd promise himself he wouldn't come back next time.

But he always did.

Because Mingyu made him feel wanted. Needed. Seen in a way that made it hard to breathe.

And Wonwoo was weak enough to want that, even if he told himself he didn't deserve it.

So he let it keep going.

One night at a time.

Letting Mingyu touch him, kiss him, fuck him so good it left him shaking. Letting himself forget, for just a few hours, that they weren't actually anything.

That he wouldn't let himself be anything.

Because if he let himself fall—really fall—he knew he'd never be able to pull himself back out.

And Wonwoo wasn't sure he'd survive that.

___________

It had been almost a year.

A whole year of Sunoo spending Thursday nights with Seokmin and Joshua. A year of Wonwoo showing up at Mingyu's door with that same polite, careful expression. A year of them exchanging small talk over beer or tea, of half-hearted attempts to watch TV or share takeout that always dissolved into Mingyu pinning Wonwoo against the wall, kissing him with frantic, shaking need. A year of Mingyu trying—failing—to keep it casual, to pretend it was just sex when it wasn't, not even close. Because he wasn't just fucking his kid's babysitter. He was losing himself in him.

And it showed.

Sunoo noticed first, in that innocent, cutting way only kids could. He'd asked one morning over cereal, legs swinging off his chair: "Appa, why does Mr. Wonwoo smile at you like that?"

Mingyu had choked on his coffee. He'd managed to stammer something about being friends. But Sunoo hadn't seemed satisfied.

He never said anything, it terrified him.

Because Wonwoo never said anything.

What if he runs away?

Oh, he was tender. Too fucking tender. He'd hold Mingyu's face when he kissed him, would murmur soft things in the dark, would stay after for hours sometimes, sprawled half-naked on the couch, eyes fluttering closed in Mingyu's lap while Mingyu stroked his hair. But when dawn came, he was gone. Always. Quiet, neat, polite. Like it hadn't happened. Like they hadn't happened.

Mingyu told himself he was fine with it.

Until he wasn't.

It was a Thursday in early autumn when it broke.

The evening had started normally. Sunoo was packed off to Joshua and Seokmin's, bubbling about board games and horror movies he wasn't technically supposed to watch. Mingyu had waved him off with a forced grin, heart already thumping with the dread-tinged anticipation that always hit on Thursdays.

He'd cleaned the apartment twice. Showered twice. Picked out a shirt he never wore for work, too tight at the arms, hoping—pathetically—that Wonwoo would notice.

Wonwoo was late.

Not by much. Ten minutes. But enough that Mingyu had sat on the edge of the couch, vibrating, feeling the fear coiling in his gut that tonight wouldn't happen at all. That it was over. That he'd lost even this fucked-up, liminal thing they had.

When Wonwoo knocked, Mingyu nearly fell over getting to the door.

Wonwoo looked the same as always. Calm. Dressed in black, hair flopping over one brow, expression neutral except for the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth when he saw Mingyu. That stupid, tiny twitch that Mingyu had let himself think meant I missed you.

They didn't even do the beer this time.

Wonwoo stepped inside, kicked off his shoes, and kissed him before the door closed. Mingyu made a desperate, strangled sound, hands coming up to fist in Wonwoo's hoodie. He tasted rain on Wonwoo's lips, his hair damp and cold where Mingyu grabbed it.

It was urgent. Sloppy. Mingyu backed them into the wall so hard that something rattled. They pulled at clothes, cursing under their breath, biting at lips and necks until Mingyu's head spun.

When they made it to the bedroom, it was only because they physically couldn't balance anymore. Mingyu shoved Wonwoo onto the bed, climbed over him, and dragged kisses down his chest. Wonwoo gasped, fingers threading in Mingyu's hair, voice cracking on Mingyu's name.

And that was it. That was what fucking killed him.

His name.

The way Wonwoo said it, voice rough and low, like he was confessing something he couldn't take back.

It was supposed to be sex. But Mingyu kissed him slow instead. Lingered. Let himself feel every inch. Mapped the hollow of his throat with his mouth, the scar on his ribs with his thumb. Listened to Wonwoo's breath hitch, the way his fingers tightened convulsively on Mingyu's arms.

When they came it was messy and quiet and desperate, Mingyu muffling his groan against Wonwoo's shoulder, Wonwoo biting back a broken sound that made Mingyu want to cry.

And afterward they just...lay there.

Usually, this was the part when Wonwoo would gently start to pull away. Mingyu would pretend not to notice, would force a joke, would look away so Wonwoo wouldn't see how badly it hurt.

But tonight?

Mingyu didn't let go.

He stayed draped over Wonwoo's chest, breathing hard, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead. He could feel Wonwoo's heart racing under his ear.

And he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Wonwoo," he rasped.

Wonwoo's hand in his hair went still.

Mingyu swallowed hard, voice breaking. "Don't...don't fucking do it."

"Do what?" Wonwoo's voice was hoarse, but too calm. Always too calm.

Mingyu pressed his face harder against his chest, like he could crawl inside him if he tried. "Don't leave."

Silence.

Wonwoo's hand trembled, just once, in his hair. Then stilled.

Mingyu forced himself to keep going. Words spilling out hot and ugly.

"I can't fucking do this anymore, okay? I can't keep pretending this is nothing. I can't keep acting like it's just sex. It's not. It's never been. Not for me." His voice cracked so hard he thought it might break him in two. "I'm in love with you. I fucking love you, okay? I love you. I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay. I want you here. All the time. With me. With Sunoo."

Wonwoo didn't say anything.

The silence was so loud Mingyu felt like it would shatter his ribs. He gasped in a breath that felt like it tore his throat raw. "Please," he whispered. "Please don't pretend you don't know. Don't lie to me. I'm so fucking tired of pretending."

He waited.

One second.

Two.

A minute that felt like dying.

Then he felt it.

Wonwoo's hand curled into his hair. Tight. Shaking.

And then Wonwoo broke.

Mingyu had never seen him like that. Ever.

He didn't speak at first. He made this horrible, choked sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. His other arm wrapped around Mingyu so hard it almost hurt. Mingyu lifted his head in shock and saw it—the tears leaking down Wonwoo's temples into his hair, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Mingyu," Wonwoo rasped, voice cracking.

Mingyu's heart stuttered. He felt his own tears burn. "Say something," he begged. "Please. Anything."

Wonwoo's eyes opened, wet, dark, raw in a way that stripped every last piece of armor from Mingyu's chest.

"I didn't want to ruin it," Wonwoo whispered. His voice was shredded. "I didn't want to ruin you."

Mingyu shook his head frantically. "You're not—you're not ruining anything—"

But Wonwoo shook, actually shook, arms clamping tight. "I'm so fucking in love with you I don't know how to breathe."

Mingyu made a sound that didn't even feel human. Half sob, half laugh. He crashed his mouth to Wonwoo's, kissed him hard enough to hurt. Wonwoo kissed back like he was drowning, hands in Mingyu's hair, dragging him closer.

They kissed until both of them were crying.

Until Mingyu pulled back and pressed his forehead to Wonwoo's, gasping, "Don't leave. Don't ever leave."

Wonwoo's eyes were wrecked. But there was no hesitation anymore. No carefulness. Just raw, ugly, beautiful truth.

"Okay," he whispered. "I won't. I promise. I fucking promise."

And Mingyu believed him.

For the first time in a year, he believed it.

They just held each other. Listened to the wind against the window. Felt each other's breathing calm. Mingyu pressed his lips to Wonwoo's hair and whispered it over and over like a prayer.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

And this time, finally, Wonwoo said it back.

____________________