🪽

“I was honest with you guys from the start,” his voice keeps its edge, “I told you what I look for in a relationship, what I want. There’s none of that here.”

Your teeth grit together, eyebrows slanted, fingers squeezing beneath your arms folded over your chest. “You’re overreacting,” you manage, heart running a marathon in your chest, ignoring the fact that his words hurt as you mask your feelings with a show of anger. 

“You two are together,” he points between you and your boyfriend with a finger. “I shouldn’t even be part of the equation. I let this go on too long, let it become too serious.”

“You think you’re the only one to blame?” Mingi surprises you with his words, the sharpness behind them, the glossiness in his eyes the only signal of sadness. “We thought we were already in a relationship, it’s all of our fault for not communicating.”

Yunho looks like he’s seen a ghost. “You– Are you serious?”

You nod, you thought it was obvious, “Yunho, we haven't been apart for more than twelve hours in weeks.”

He turns on his heel, “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

Mingi stands, following Yunho as he crosses your living room, “You’re just going to leave? You aren’t gonna talk this out?”

You watch from the couch, breathing deep into your lungs, ignoring how your eyes watered. Yunho turns around sharply, “What is there to talk about? We were fucking, and now we’re not. That’s it.”

You gasp from the couch, Mingi shrinks where he stands. Taking a step back, shaking his head, his voice is shaky as he says, “You don’t mean that.”

“I told you,” Yunho slips his feet into his shoes. “I’ve been honest from the start. If you took it more seriously, that’s on you. I’m sorry.”

Mingi’s arms fall to his sides as Yunho leaves through your front door, the heavy oak slamming shut behind him. Your heart breaks as Mingi’s head hangs low, his shoulders shaking, and it’s the sniff you hear from the couch that gets you on your feet, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. 

“He’s just scared,” you whisper, tears lining your own eyes as Mingi racks a sob into your chest. “He’s just scared, Min. He’ll come around.”

His voice is wrecked, ragged and layered with grief, “I can’t believe he said all of that.”

“Me either,” you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks as you run your fingers through his hair, your other hand rubbing circles into his back. “It’s Yunho, we know how he is, especially with relationships.”

“I thought we were different,” Mingi picks his head up, pulling away from you to wipe his eyes. “I thought he was getting over his dramatic relationship block because of us.” He sniffs, then speaks through another sob, his voice cracking, “I thought he loved us, too.”

“You love him?” Your eyes widen, hands landing on his shoulders, and he nods without hesitation. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, eyes screwing shut in an attempt to get your mind to bypass the shock so you can think. 

“Don’t you?” Mingi asks, his voice small, like if you said no he might crack entirely.

His laugh crossed your mind first. Eyes squeezed to crescents, grin spread wide, head tipping back as the most beautiful sound left his lips, you always got lost in him when he laughed. A hearty chuckle or a small giggle, when Yunho was emitting nothing but pure joy… Yeah, you loved him. 

You loved how he walked closest to the street, how he already had your order memorized at the cafe around the corner. You loved how he touched you, soft and delicate, how he complimented you every time he saw you. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to say the hard things, like telling you that you snore, or that this time your boss was in the right. You loved that he kept small pieces of you close in the years of knowing you, how he revealed his knowledge of you in the past month, how he wasn’t afraid to show his passion. 

You loved him, and you fucking knew he loved you back. 

“Yeah,” your nod isn’t immediate. “I think I do.”

Mingi’s lip quivers, “We’re just gonna let him leave?”

“We’re adults,” your voice is shakier than you need it to be, forever the rock holding Mingi’s hurricane. “He’s an adult. If he wants us, this, he’ll come back.”

Mingi shakes his head profusely, taking a step back from you, “If we love him then we fight for him, I’m not waiting around while he thinks this is over.”

Your lips curve upward, the most Mingi thing he’s ever said, “We’ll be with him for four days at the beach. Let him sit in the hole he’s dug himself in, let him miss us for a few days.”

Mingi looks at you like you’re speaking another language, “He probably won’t even look at us while we’re at the beach if we wait until then.”

“If we love him,” you step closer to him. “Then chances are he loves us, too. Let him take the time he needs to realize it.”

Mingi takes a heavy breath, thinking about who Yunho is, how he handles situations. With poise, consideration, vigilance. He thinks of all outcomes, all strategies, Yunho thinks of everything with his mind, and not always his heart. Mingi nods, because he hopes that just this once, he’ll think with his heart, and figure out the rest later. 

Yunho hasn’t called.  Not a text, not a word, not a breath. 

But you were on your way to Haos– and from Wooyoung’s call this morning, asking what time to pick you up, you found out that he’d talked to Yunho just before he called you, and he was still coming to the beach. A shred of relief washed over you as the words left his mouth, it couldn’t be that bad if he was still coming to the beach, four days spent in proximity with you and your boyfriend. And your ten other friends. Right?

“Do you want to stop at the convenience store for anything? Water, coffee, a snack?” Wooyoung asks from the driver’s seat, black hair shagged over his ears, his forehead, curling at the nape of his neck. 

Sana groans from the seat beside you, “Can we just go straight there? I’m itching to be on the beach with a drink in my hand.” Dressed in jeans and a strappy tank, heels on her feet, curled dark locks framing her cheekbones, she looked like she was going to the club rather than traveling for a vacation. Being eight in the morning, you looked like you just rolled out of bed. 

Mainly because you did. 

“I wasn’t just asking you, San,” Wooyoung cuts from the front of the black rental he drove. “We’ve been driving for an hour already.”

“Which means we should only have ten more minutes in the car if you just drive,” she bites back, rolling her eyes. She gives you a look, shaking her head as if Woo was asking the stupidest question in the world. She whispers to you, “He should have asked an hour ago.” 

You smile at her instead of giving her an answer, redirecting your gaze to the top of Mingi’s head that peeks over the headrest of the passenger seat. After spending some time away from her, you thought you’d at least be a little excited to see her, but alas, she still drives you up a fucking wall. You could have gone longer. 

You lean your head against the window for the last ten minutes, listening to soft rock music with your eyes glued to the intricate, tall houses along the coast, the small shops, the ice cream parlors, everything about this place screaming beach. Summer. Rich summer. You were still excited to come here, drama aside, spending time with your friends, cozying up in one of San’s queen-sized beds in one of his several bedrooms. You loved his house, the feeling it gave you, how badly you’d like to own something like it one day. 

You didn’t mind four days of pretending it was yours, nor did you mind laying on the beach, a drink in your hand. Maybe you’d shove your feelings aside and stay glued to Sana all weekend. 

Finally pulling up on a rocky driveway, you pull your eyes away from the beach just beside it, taking in the cream-colored fucking mansion before you. Ridiculous architecture, a two-car garage, a double main staircase, several balconies and a fenced rooftop, what always took your breath away was the windows. So much light poured into the house, salt scented air rushing through the space when the countless pairs of double doors opened, this house screamed happiness. It screamed carefree.

You let the feeling fill you, let it take a weight off your chest as you stretch your body upon leaving the backseat. Whatever happened this weekend, you’d accept. However you and Mingi returned home, with or without another boyfriend, you’d be okay. Both of you. 

You took a look around the driveway as Wooyoung and Mingi went into the trunk to grab all of your luggage. You and Mingi shared one, but Sana… She had two for herself, she bragged about it as soon as you opened the car door. 

Three other cars sat in the driveway. You recognized Yeosang’s, Jongho’s, Seonghwa’s, you assumed San and Jongin’s cars were in the garage. No sign of Yunho’s car. 

Mingi carried your luggage in behind you, you didn’t knock as you walked through San’s front door, nor did you have time to appreciate the creams, whites and blues stretching across the inside, because the only other person in the living room when you walked inside was Yunho. 

Your jaw clenched as your eyes slid over the back of him, faced away from you as he scrolled on his phone.

“Honey, I’m home!” Wooyoung yelled from behind you, and his voice echoed through the archways of the main floor, bouncing off each perfectly staged wall, the balcony above you. 

Yunho snapped around, meeting your eye, and he immediately stiffened. With one of his infamous linen sets on, barefoot and his hair swept back, you had to stop yourself from muttering damn under your breath. You loved when he looked like summer, but you also loved when he looked like winter, when he needed the comfort of fleece to keep him warm. Maybe you loved Yunho in anything. 

You looked away fast, turning to face Mingi who was already staring over your head, at his best friend who had undoubtedly become something more. Mingi stared at him with hope, with an unanswered question, with so much fucking love in his eyes you felt the cracking of your heart in your chest. 

“Finally!” You heard San before you saw him, shirtless and in swim trunks, body tanned and golden and sculpted by God himself. He wore a wide grin, Jongin following behind him, his boyfriend just as gorgeous as he is, taller and handsome and damn, just as sculpted. 

San pulls Wooyoung into a tight hug, “I missed you, man. It’s been too long.” 

“It’s barely been a month,” Wooyoung chuckles. “But yeah, too long.” 

Sana’s heels click against the pale hardwood as Jongin pulls her into a hug, the two men exchanging with the couple as you and Mingi attempt to ignore the elephant in the room only visible to the two of you. 

Wooyoung pulls Yunho into a hug as you and Mingi share exchanges with San and Jongin, just as the others start piling into the living room. 

“We’ve been waiting for you guys!” Tzuyu squeals as she enters your view, and you’re immediately pulled into all the women of the house, sharing hugs and kisses on the cheek. 

“I can’t believe we’re the last ones here,” you’re smiling, warmth filling your chest as you bathe in everyone’s excitement. 

Jihyo smirks, “Late because you were getting frisky?” 

You roll your eyes, heat warming your cheeks, “You need to let go of that. Like, now.” 

“Frisky?” Tzuyu pops a brow. “Fill me in.” 

“I went over her and Mingi’s place and saw a vib—”

“Okay!” You speak over her, hands ready to clamp over her mouth, and she winks at Tzuyu in a silent promise to fill her in later. You prayed it didn’t include Yunho’s name. 

“Who has which room?” Sana asks loudly, speaking over everyone in the midst of conversation. 

“We were waiting for you to decide, princess,” Seonghwa replies, voice smooth, a snarky remark hidden behind a beautiful smile. Your lips curl upward when you see him, stood tall next to his boyfriend, Seonghwa’s open shirt matched Hongjoong’s shorts. 

“Jongin and I have the master,” San says. “There’s five other bedrooms, one has a pull-out futon.” 

“Assuming I’m on the futon,” Yunho immediately adds, his voice flat. “Since I’m the only single one here.” 

Your eyes flicker between the two, heart thumping against your chest, stomach feeling sick at hearing him say he’s single. 

“You would have been fucked if you brought a date,” San's smile is anything but sheepish. “But I’m sure no one will mind if you crash their room, maybe one of the girlies are out of commission for sexual activity and it won’t matter.” 

Jongin smacks his chest with a disgusted look, but San giggles to himself. You look around the room and all the girls fall quiet, all the guys stay quiet, too used to San and his remarks to feed him a reaction. 

“He can room with you and Mingi,” Jihyo nudges your shoulder from beside you,.“Duh. You guys are super close, anyways, just kick him out when you wanna fuck.” 

“We aren’t twenty years old, Ji,” you muster. “We can go a few days without fucking.” 

You look up at Mingi and you can tell he’s teetering on the edge of losing his shit. You turn to Yunho and he looks like that’s the last thing he wants. Seeing his face, the clear dislike of the idea, imagining the thoughts racing through his mind, all of it combined makes you slap a smile on your face, “Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll take him.” 

“Hope you left the hitachi at home,” Jihyo whispers in your ear, winking. You nudge her back, forcing the smile to stay on your face— no one has any idea of what you’ve gone through the last few days. What happened. What started it in the first place. 

“Perfect!” San claps his hands together. “That was easy. Go unpack your shit and then we can go to the beach.” 

Mingi is at your side as soon as everyone takes a step toward the staircase, voice a low growl in your ear, “Why did you do that?” 

You whisper back, “It’ll be fine.” 

You didn’t know if it would be fine. 

“Three bedrooms on the second floor, two on the top, master is on the main floor. You guys can figure out which rooms yourselves,” San says from the base of the steps as you all make your way up, your shoes hitting the hardwood in chorus, everyone dragging their belongings behind them. 

Yunho stays close behind you and Mingi as you check each room in search of yours, taking in the detail of the hallways, where the bathrooms were. The paintings on the walls, tables with vases, starfish, framed pictures of small sayings of wordplays with the word beach, you made sure to take in everything, let it fill you with ease, you were on vacation. 

You wouldn’t let Yunho ruin it. 

On the third floor, Jihyo and Jongho peeled off into a room at the beginning of the hallway, a bathroom and two closets between you as yours lived at the end. A queen-sized bed, a couch along the wall that pulled out to a bed, the room was decently sized. Cozy, with its balcony attached, white covering the walls, the bedspread and couch a pale blue. 

Mingi threw your suitcase onto the bed as Yunho threw his duffle bag onto the couch. The air was tense, heavy, you could hear conversation downstairs, Jihyo and Jongho unpacking just down the hall. There was no sound coming from your room other than zippers sliding and clothes being shuffled. 

You stood opposite Mingi on either side of the bed as he sorted through the suitcase, zeroed in on his hands as he separated the clothes you were hanging from the ones going into drawers. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you stood focused, yet thinking of nothing as your ears rang, buzzing beneath the heaviness of silence. 

What was he thinking right now? 

Your eyes flickered to him as he pulled clothes out of his duffel bag, folding them along the couch, laying out the clothes he was hanging up, keeping his toiletries separate. Your gaze fell on his shoulders, broad and muscular beneath the linen he wore, the length of his legs stretching to the floor beneath him, bare feet pressed against hardwood, stepping to the side to fold another tee along the cushion. 

You turn your attention back to Mingi, shaking off the discomfort as you grab the clothes to hang up, heading for the closet next to the couch. You lay the clothes over the armrest, hanging up tops, Mingi’s favorite pair of nice pants, the dress you brought to wear to the bar on Saturday. You think that’s the only time you were going out all weekend other than to small shops around the town. 

The last shirt you had to hang, one of Mingi’s, you knew you grabbed it from the stack of clothes on the bed, but it wasn’t splayed out on the couch beside you. Brows furrowed, you turned on your heel to check the bed, just for Yunho to be stood at your side, holding the shirt out for you while he had his own stack of clothes folded over his forearm. 

You swallowed, avoiding his eye, “Thanks.” 

Grabbing the shirt from his hand, your fingers brushed against each other, the feeling of his skin on yours no matter how small immediately sent a jolt of electricity up your forearm, into your shoulder. You were quick to hang up the last shirt, moving out of his way, back to where Mingi was before the dresser. 

While he laid folded clothes, pajamas, boxers and panties into separate drawers, you grabbed your bikinis, his swim shorts, cover-ups and the singular bra you brought to help him. The room still silent, suffocating with everything left unsaid, you began laying out your toiletries along the top of the dresser. 

You could feel his eyes. Lifting your gaze, meeting his stare through the mirror, you shuffled to the side as he sauntered up next to you, throwing his own clothes into the rest of the empty drawers. 

God, is this what the rest of the week was gonna be like? If so, fuck that, he can sleep on the couch. Downstairs. Far away from you and Mingi so you can enjoy this room and its balcony all to yourself. 

“Hey!” Tzuyu gleamed, knocking on the doorframe at the same time as she spoke. You jumped a foot in the air, hand clasping your chest, a gasp escaping your chest. She giggles, long brown hair in a braid over one shoulder, bikini already on her body. “Yeosang and I are going to the liquor store before we head down to the beach, want anything?” 

“Uh,” you glance up at Mingi, trying to find words. “Tequila, beer, some kind of seltzer to sip on. The usual shit.” 

She nods, “Same beer as always, right?” 

“Please,” Mingi nods back, giving her a smile that she would never know wasn’t real. 

Your stomach fucking aches. You could push your pain aside, but when it comes to Mingi, seeing him hurt in real time, you could feel it as if he shared it with you. Your jaw locks, you could not go the whole week like this. 

Tzuyu peeks her head back in, “You should get ready, we’ll be back in ten.” 

“Got it,” you smile, and when she bounces out of your room again, it drops. You needed to do something. You rack your brain as you zip the suitcase closed, shoving it beneath the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

Yunho was pretending. He was forcing a mindset on himself, ignoring his feelings for you and Mingi, he was putting on a show that he didn’t mean. In his head, he was protecting himself, or maybe he was protecting you two from getting hurt, of what could go wrong in the future. 

You glance up at Mingi who stood leaned up against the dresser, on his phone. You glance over at Yunho who sits on the couch, on his phone. Just because he was acting like he doesn’t love you, doesn’t mean that he believes it. 

Your eyes land on Mingi again, holding them there. He looks up from his phone, meeting your stare. 

Your lips curve upward. I’m gonna do something crazy.  He pops an eyebrow, lips crinkling. Oh no.  Your smile grows, eyes flashing something dangerous. You gotta trust me on this one.  Mingi nods, face still wary. I always trust you. 

You push yourself up off the bed to the dresser, opening one of the drawers, pulling out one of your bikinis from the bottom. You should really thank Jihyo for even putting it in your mind that you should wear one of your college bikinis— so small and skimpy it could barely be considered anything other than string, you funneled confidence into your veins. You wouldn’t care about how you looked after a drink or two, anyways. 

Your eyes meet Mingi’s through the mirror, bikini in your hands. Are you picking up what I’m putting down? Mingi shoots you a silent laugh. You’re fucking nuts.  You stick your tongue out. You love it.  Mingi licks his lips. I love you, and that bikini.  You hold his eyes through the mirror. Remember what I said, trust me. 

Letting your eyes dance over Yunho once more, you lay the bikini out over the dresser, and then pull your shirt over your head in one quick motion. 

“Shiiit,” Mingi mutters under his breath, long and dragged out from the bed, purposely loud enough for Yunho to hear. His eyes pick up, seeing you through the mirror, eyes catching on you shimmying your shorts down your legs, then your panties. 

You don’t let your gaze linger, pulling the bottoms up your legs, then tying the top around your back. “Min, can you tie me?” 

He’s at your back in an instant, letting his hands dance along your waist before settling at the back of your neck, bikini strings between his fingers. You’re smiling at each other through the mirror and it’s then that you know he understands what’s going through your mind, the plan you cooked up just a minute ago. 

His hands settle on your hips after he finishes tying your top, and both of your eyes slide to Yunho, catching him just as he looks back down at his phone, fingers pressed to his forehead. You smirk at Mingi through the mirror, wondering if maybe you pushed Yunho just a little harder, could you crack the shell of his facade?

Yunho’s never been a huge fan of the beach. He burns easily, sand gets between his toes, in places he simply can’t reach, he hates how his hair looks after being in the breezy, salty air for too long. He’s been excited to come to Haos despite it, to spend time with you and Mingi away from home, but he didn’t give it enough thought to really consider the logistics of it all. 

To himself, he thought it easy: Around everyone else, you and Mingi would be your usual selves, madly in love for the world to see. At the end of the night, behind closed doors, where no one could hear you or see you, that’s when he’d have his way with you both. He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t excited for that most of all. 

Forcing you into submission, into silence in the dead of night, so the whole house couldn’t hear the whiney moans that leave Mingi’s mouth when Yunho takes him, or the shrill screams that Yunho pulls from your chest when he pushes you just a little too far. It’d be fun— that was fun to him, keeping the two of you hidden away, his two nasty little secrets. No one had to know. 

Because if they did, if anyone knew anything, it’d break your perfect bubble. He’d be forced to admit that he hated the idea of not being able to touch you in public, not being able to kiss you, or even flirt with you. Either of you. Which opens another question, one Yunho wasn’t willing to answer, or give any more of his attention. 

Luckily, it blew up in his face before he had the chance to worry about it too much, like it has a hundred times before with plenty of different partners. This was the routine— fuck for awhile, become a little more on accident, realize that this isn’t what he wants, leave. Leave, leave, leave. Yunho was good at leaving, at hiding, at not taking what he wants when it’s staring at him in the face. 

It was too fucking vulnerable. He ached for love, for true routine, to wake up next to someone and go grocery shopping on Sunday mornings. He yearned for someone to know him down to his core, to love him for the silly things, not just how he fucked or how he guided. For how much he needed to take care of his partners, he never realized how much he needed to be taken care of, too. 

This morning, how you stared at him with a locked jaw, a storm in your eyes, he knew he deserved it. He deserved your anger, your pain, he wishes he could take it from you and keep it for himself. How Mingi looked at him, with pain and love and hope, seeing Mingi’s feelings raw in his eyes terrified Yunho. Knowing Mingi hurt, that he was the cause of his ache but also knowing he’d take him back in a second, it sent a shiver down his spine, leaving a hole too deep, too cold in his gut. 

He really fucked up this time. He really, seriously, absolutely fucked up. He's fallen asleep cuddled up to your side, he’s woken up beside you for weeks. He’s gone grocery shopping with you, he keeps a mental list of everything you have in your house. You made space for him in your home, for his body and his clothes, he has a toothbrush beside your sink, products in your shower, socks in the top drawer of Mingi’s dresser. He’s felt the rush of affection when Mingi finishes his sentence, he’s felt the pain sitting in the crease of your brow without it having anything to do with him. 

He walked into what he was most afraid of, but what he’s yearned for without even realizing. Everything happened so fucking fast. That night with Mingi was the true beginning, he thinks, the catalyst that made him fall headfirst without casting a net. That night changed all of your boundaries, leaving everything in open field for the taking. Yunho took it with greedy hands, but then he destroyed it all the same. 

He knows what you’re thinking. In that pretty little head of yours there’s millions of beautiful, strategic thoughts, plans, ways to get him back in your bed. Even though he fucked up. Even though he was the one that destroyed it all. 

The curve of your chest in the mirror, a peek of the goldmine between your legs as you bent over, if this was a week ago he would have pinned your chest to the glass and fucked you until you were crying just for teasing him. Mingi’s hands trailing down your skin, his breath on the back of your neck, jealousy infested Yunho like a disease. He could feel the ghost of Mingi’s hands on his body, on his chest, his abdomen, his torso, he forced himself to tear his eyes away so he didn’t break. 

Yunho was the one who fucked it all up, and here you two were, trying to get him to fix it. Naive and optimistic, two traits that you two shared that made Yunho feel like he was your missing piece. He wouldn’t break so easily, you two have to know that, you know him. 

He watches you run across the sand, wet chest bouncing beneath golden sunrays with a can grasped in your palm. Mingi follows you from the water, trunks slick to his thighs, the inseam of his shorts shorter than any other pair he owned. Yunho sits with his jaw locked, his fingers curled around the armrests of the beach chair beneath the umbrella, watching as Mingi picks you up from behind, a grin on his lips as he presses them to your cheek. 

You two didn’t do PDA. You haven’t since you were in your early twenties, when your relationship just began. Everyone in the group knows it, but no one notices, no one pays any mind to the clear show you were putting on just for him. Mingi’s arm is hooked around your torso, black hair clinging to his cheeks, his neck, the two of you dripping in saltwater and love. He keeps you there, hanging off his arm as he walks back up to where you set up, your giggles becoming clearer, reminding him of his favorite song the closer you get.  

He could just get up and go back inside. The beach was San’s backyard, after all. 

“Can you hand me another seltzer, please?” You ask sweetly as soon as Mingi puts your feet back on the ground. Yunho blinks beneath his shades before the question registers in his mind, it’s the first that you’ve spoken to him other than thanks in the bedroom. 

He reaches into the cooler, making sure to hand you your favorite flavor, feeling bile rise up in his throat when Mingi opens it for you and plants a kiss on your lips before you take a sip. Maybe he had it all wrong— maybe you didn’t fucking care that Yunho was no longer apart of your relationship. Maybe, in some sick, twisted way, what happened just a few days ago made your relationship stronger. Seems about right for the two of you. 

“Let’s play volleyball!” Wooyoung shouts over the hum of soft rock music and waves in his ear. He forces his eyes away from you two to glance at Wooyoung, holding a volleyball to his chest while beads of sweat drip down his bronzed, tanned skin. 

“Hell no,” Sana responds from her towel, laying on her stomach with a bucket filled with God knows what kind of liquor in the sand just above her head. “We’re relaxing.” 

“I meant the guys,” Wooyoung replies, the smile on his cheeks never faltering, ignoring his girlfriends’ tone completely. He wiggles his eyebrows at Yunho, “You up for it? A little friendly game?” 

“I’m out,” Hongjoong responds from his chair, can of beer in his hand, head laid back along the headrest beneath the shade of the umbrella, “I just ate a gummy.” 

“I’m out, too,” Yeosang lifts his head from his towel, Tzuyu at his side, the two of them cuddled up so close under the burning sun he wondered how they weren’t suffocating. 

“I’m going to swim,” Jongin waves a hand, already turning his heel to walk down to the shore. 

“I’m down,” Yunho says, needing a break from staring, standing from his chair. 

“I’m down, too,” Mingi adds as if on command, pressing another kiss to your lips before walking towards where Wooyoung stood behind Yunho. 

San, Jongho and Seonghwa make their way towards them, too, and Yunho quickly regrets his decision when Mingi stops directly at his side. He stiffens, eyes glancing down to where Mingi’s hand lingers inches beside his. 

“Three versus three then?” San smirks as the six of them make their way towards the net across the beach. “I call Woo and Mingi on my team.” 

Jongho breaks into a laugh as he leans on the pole beside the net, fingers sinking into the webbing, “So it’s me, Hwa and Yunho?”

“I think that’s fair,” San shrugs. “We share the towers.”

Yunho rolls his eyes, and Mingi’s smile is wide. Seonghwa dips under the net to the other side of the sandy court, “They’re both competitive, too. Think it’s best we share.” 

“We can hear you, y’know,” Yunho follows, sliding into position flanking Jongho’s side, a grin crawling over his cheeks that was nothing short of competitive. “No need to fight over us.” 

“First team to twenty,” Wooyoung juts out his chin from the other side of the net, “Best out of three?”

Yunho pushes out an accidental sigh, “Three games?” 

Mingi, like he’d been waiting for that comment, snaps. “Why not?” He cocks his head to the side, smile dangerous. “Three games too much of a commitment for you?” 

The blood from Yunho’s face drains, the amusement in his eyes gone. After Yunho’s face falls, Mingi giggles, and the rest of the guys seem completely unaware of the jab that just left Mingi’s mouth. Yunho glares at him, knowing now that the two of you are serious about getting under his skin, but he chooses to ignore the shred of pride he feels with your efforts. 

The first game went by quickly— Mingi, San and Wooyoung were good. Yunho, Seonghwa and Jongho were good, too, but fell just short of their opponents. The second game went by just as fast, but instead this time it seemed Yunho’s team had a chip on their shoulder, a little too much pride to let their friends win twice. The third game, everyone was drenched in sweat, covered in sand from diving for the ball, forearms burning from bumping it, everyone’s patience was running thin. Curses were shouted, insults thrown from one side of the net to the other, they had gotten serious real quick. 

Mingi and Yunho stood at either side of the net, eyes on the ball above their heads, the two of them jumping at the same time to either spike, or block. The ball fell on Mingi’s side and his eyes dropped for a millisecond to see Yunho, both hands up, palms flat out to block his spike. 

Yunho, ambition living in the slant of his brows, tongue peeking between his lips, didn’t give Mingi an opening to push the ball through. So Mingi hit it to the side, just past Yunho’s hands before he could even think of sliding his arms over. 

Yunho cursed, and Mingi’s arms went over his head in a cheer for winning them one more point towards victory. Mingi leaned in close to the net, a smirk on his lips, “Pay attention, Yun. You don’t want me thinking I’m distracting you, do you?” 

Yunho’s jaw locks. Mingi was pushing it, he usually wasn’t the bratty one, that was your area of expertise. 

“Careful,” is all he says, venom on his tongue as his chin tips upward, just to stare down at Mingi through lowered brows. 

Mingi’s smirk grows, almost a full smile, fingers hooking into the net to lean closer. “Or what?” 

Yunho licks his bottom lip, shaking his head as he turns around, back to where he stood, waiting for the ball to be served. Maybe he was stupid for considering you two didn’t care about him, especially after the bedroom, and now he had Mingi taunting him ten feet away? 

The ball hits the sand beside his foot before he can process that it was served. Mingi, San and Wooyoung high five, cheering because they were one point away from winning, and Yunho’s teammates turn to him with a scowl. 

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa stands with his arms out beside him, face warped into annoyance and confusion. 

Jongho barks from beside him, “Lock the fuck in, we’re winning this.” 

Yunho nods, shaking off his thoughts, “My bad.” 

Then Mingi calls your name. Yunho’s head turns, watching as you turn your head from where you stood with a group of girls that weren’t a part of your group, staring as you jogged towards them when Mingi ushered you over. 

That fucking bikini, all string, barely covering anything. His fists clenched when the house hooted and hollered for you, as Jihyo whistled when she saw you. It wasn’t for you. It wasn’t for Mingi. It was revenge. 

His neck snaps back to the court before him when he hears San’s hand smack the ball, body moving before his brain can think, diving into the sand to bump it up. Jongho is quick to get under it, two hands setting the ball high in the air, but as Seonghwa jumps to smack it over the net, Mingi is already there. 

Broad, sculpted abdomen, hard chest he’s rested his head on too many times, hipbones peeking from just above his waistband. Yunho watches Mingi’s arms flex as he blocks the ball, how his torso folds to send the ball into the sand, Yunho nearly shoves his face in the sand too when his three best friends jump for joy across the net. 

Seonghwa and Jongho stand defeated, faces set toward the sun, chests heaving. Yunho gets up slowly, just to see you perched on Mingi, arms and legs hooked around his body, lips pressed to his. Mingi’s hands hold you up by your thighs, fingers making indents where they pressed into your skin, and it’s war for Yunho to peel his eyes away from the sight. 

“Sorry,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair, keeping his eyes on the sand as he walks toward Seonghwa and Jongho. 

Jongho clasps a hand on his shoulder, heavy but reassuring, “It’s just volleyball. We’ll beat ‘em tomorrow.” 

Seonghwa nods his agreement, and at least one weight is lifted off his chest. He watches his friends duck under the net, and Yunho follows, ready to get berated by his three other friends, good sportsmanship be damned. 

“This is my boyfriend,” he hears, and his eyes land on where you stood with Mingi, just beside the court with the two girls you were standing with before. One a grinning dirty blonde, the other a miserable-looking brunette, Yunho tried to listen as his friends spoke beside him, but jealousy pierced his soul that Mingi was the only one standing beside you, getting introduced as yours. 

His feet moved before he could think about it, coming up to your side, and the blonde caught his eye, looking him up and down as he made his way over. You beamed, not showing a flash of surprise or confusion as Yunho stood beside you, you immediately gushed, “This is Yunho, he’s single, super tall, clearly.” You giggled, leaning into Yunho’s side, you were drunk. You whispered not quietly to the blonde, “I think you’d like him.” 

Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, weight hitting his gut with force, and the blonde before him blushed as her hands gripped the cocktail between fingers, her eyes dragging over him again. 

The brunette, eyebrows low, stares at Mingi before her, “You look really familiar.” 

Your hand clings to his, wrapping your fingers into your boyfriends, shoulders pushed back, no one would know you were standing your ground unless they knew you. Mingi laughs along, “Really? You kind of do, too.” 

“Do you have any relatives that go to Nasara?” She cocks her head to the side, “We’re in ITZ, a sorority at Nasara University in Delo.” 

Mingi shakes his head, then turns it to look at Yunho, “Do you?” 

Yunho shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders, she does look familiar. Yunho asks, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Sitara Song?” 

The brunette makes a tch noise, then grabs the blonde’s hand, voice dripping in irritation, “Come on, Ror, I’m sure Wooyoung is missing you.” 

The blonde looks back at him twice as the brunette drags her away, and Yunho feels unsettled. Not only are you making a show with Mingi in front of his face, taunting him, but now you’re pimping him out to strangers? 

Mingi’s eyebrows are knitted together as they walk away, “They have an Wooyoung, too?” 

Yunho faces the two of you with his arms crossed, “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re already smiling, mischief in your eyes, “What do you mean?”

If the three of you were at home… 

“What was that?” He asks, a hand stretching in the direction of the two girls walking away. 

You giggle, back pressing into Mingi’s abdomen, “Was I wrong? You are single, aren’t you?” 

Yunho laughs a low, disbelieving chuckle. He turns on his heel, past the court, back to where you set up, sitting back in the chair he was sulking in before. He reaches into the cooler, pulling out a can of beer. If this was how the weekend was going to be, he might as well be drunk for it, too. 

Clean and close to sober, your hair was still wet after your shower as you sat around the bonfire, sweats on your body, under a blanket on the sand. Even in Haos the beach was cold at night, a sharp breeze ruffling everyone’s hair, egging the fire to blaze higher. 

Yunho barely looked at either of you during dinner. Lounged out on the back balcony after grilling, he laughed along with everyone, cracking jokes and engaging in banter, but he shut you and Mingi out. After his second beer it was as if he put a wall up, he was choosing to not let the two of you bother him, not that you had much to bother him with after the beach. 

Fear lived in all your joints that you took everything too far as you sat cuddled up to Mingi, head on his shoulder. With Yunho on your other side, you tried not to let your eyes slide to him, despite his closeness. Even mad, even apart you still drifted together, you try to let the thought relieve you, but you’re too tightly wound to let anything but his hands steady your heart in your chest. 

You missed the way Yunho doesn’t see your fear. Instead, all his tunnel vision allows is the way your arms lay over Mingi’s, the way you melt against your boyfriend, how comfortable Mingi looks with your body touching his. You don’t see his frustration, how his mind whirls a mile a minute in yearning to have any part of you two touching him, too. 

“You guys must have needed a vacation,” Hongjoong declared from across the fire, the growing blaze making his orange hair burn brighter, white teeth still shining despite the warmth laying over all of you. 

You smile, and Mingi agrees in a small noise from beside you. San perks up in a chuckle, “I haven’t seen you two act like that in years. There’s really never any trouble in paradise, huh?” 

Mingi snorts, and you close your eyes with a smile on your lips. If only they knew what trouble was terrorizing your paradise right now. 

Jihyo cracks a laugh, holding up a hand like she just remembered something hilarious, “No, can you guys remember the beginning? When they couldn’t keep their hands off each other?” 

Your cheeks burn as the group laughs around the fire, a chorus of amusement and remembrance. Jihyo continues, laughter still erupting from her chest, breaking up her words, “I miss when we still had true house parties, I remember catching you guys in Yeosang’s garage.” 

Mingi tips his head back with a groan at the memory, you remembered it like it was yesterday, he had you lifted on Yeosang’s father’s workbench, tools covering the space around you. Luckily, Jihyo didn’t see your legs spread for him, or his fingers hooked inside you. Your cheeks blaze hotter than the fire before you. 

“That’s not the only time, either,” Jihyo’s leaning forward now, cocktail in her hands threatening to spill over the blanket on her lap. 

San interjects, laughing himself, “I think we’ve all caught them once or twice throughout the years.” 

Wooyoung frowns, “At least none of you have caught them in your own bedroom. That’s worse, trust me.”

Your hand covers your face, digging your forehead into Mingi’s shoulder as he laughs along, muttering Enough in a low voice. The reason you weren’t as open with your relationship anymore was being laughed about in a circle, filling your gut with embarrassment and shame, Mingi felt it. 

You couldn’t see Yunho’s fists clenched at his sides, digging into the blanket above the sand. He tries to laugh along, he has a few stories he could tell himself, but he’s ruined them all with thoughts of what those memories would look like if he was included in them, too. He feels weird inside. Knowing it would always be you two, as it’s always been, but feeling so fucking frustrated that he isn’t included, as if two halves of him were fist fighting just beneath his skin. 

“My bad, today just reminded me of back then,” San waves a hand, a warm smile on his lips, showing his dimples. “I’m happy to see it. I’ve missed when you were attached at the hip.” 

“I was starting to get worried that you guys were chilling out too much,” Sana interrupts, her head tilted, a cheshire smile on her lips, “I assumed that’s why you didn’t have a ring on your finger yet, that your relationship wasn’t the same as it used to be.” 

The circle quiets. A beat of silence lays over you, thick and heavy, her comment feels like a jab. Yunho doesn’t know why it fills his veins with ice cold rage. He bares his teeth, “Where’s the ring on your finger, Sana?” 

Seonghwa gasps, Tzuyu’s eyes widen, Wooyoung cracks a smile. Everyone’s eyes dance between Yunho and Sana with fear at her awaiting rebuttal. She tips her cocktail back, takes a sip, then raises it up to Yunho with a sinister smile, “Hopefully we both see rings within the year.” 

You blink in confusion and awe, sitting up straight, both of your heads turned toward the black hair sat beside you. He meets your gaze and his eyes feel warmer than they’ve been all day, since before the fight, even. The others redirect the conversation into something lighter, but the three of you stay locked in on each other, a bubble within the ash and smoke surrounding you. 

You purse your lips. What was that for? Yunho smiles. Couldn’t help myself, I guess.  Mingi lays a hand over your thigh. Sana will always be Sana, it’s not worth it.  Yunho leans into his hands stretched out behind him. I’m tired of her sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.  Your cheeks warm with a small smile. Thank you. 

After all the cans had been thrown into the fire and San had smothered it with the lid, the whole group decided it was time for bed, your day tomorrow required a full night’s sleep. Beach, boardwalk, dinner, a repeat of today, but tomorrow you could really drink. You had half a mind to stay sober tomorrow, you think you had enough day-drinking already, your brain muddled and your limbs sluggish, you didn’t miss the feeling of a hangover. 

The queen sized bed felt like a cloud beneath your thighs compared to the sand you were sitting on prior, the bottle of water Mingi handed you when he entered your bedroom healing you. In a hoodie and sweats, the house much too cold for a summer night, you sat up and chugged while Mingi got his toiletries ready for a shower. 

Yunho didn’t enter the bedroom until Mingi had left, drying his hair with his towel, sweats hanging low on his hips, droplets of water still trickling down his abdomen. You kept your water in your lap, lips pursed, trying to think of something to say. Just earlier today you weren’t speaking at all, you teased him all day, and then he… Sticks up for you to Sana? It doesn’t make any sense. None of this makes sense. 

Yunho pulls a tee shirt over his head, barely glancing at you sitting on the bed, then reaches into the closet to grab a blanket. Folded over his forearm, he tucks a pillow under his other arm, then without as much as a word he makes for the door. 

“Hello?” You sit up a little taller, confusion in the knit of your brows. “Where are you going?” 

He looks back at you over his shoulder, “I’m gonna sleep on the couch downstairs.”

“No,” you answer, shaking your head, staring at him like the idea is ridiculous, because it is. 

He raises his brows, “No?” 

“Stay,” you urge, heart picking up speed in your chest. “We need to talk at some point.” 

He finally turns around, brows still raised as he shrugs, “Talk about what?” 

Your lips part but nothing comes out. Jaw clenching, you sit dumbfounded and annoyed. Talk about the fight? Talk about today? Talk about how there’s still clearly something romantic between the three of you? 

“How you toyed with me all day?” Yunho finishes your thoughts, taking a step towards your bed, “How the two of you drove me up a fucking wall? How I snapped at Sana to defend you because clearly I’ve lost the ability to control myself?” 

You stare at him wide-eyed, speechless, excitement rippling beneath your skin because he took a step toward you. 

“They were right, you know,” he tilts his head, taking another step forward, “You haven’t been all over each other like that in years. And I sat there, knowing it was all for me, and couldn’t do a damn thing.” 

“Yes, you could have,” you finally counter, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What would you have me do?” He says through a sharp chuckle, “Put you over my fucking knee in front of everyone? The whole beach? That's what started all of this, right?” 

“I— What do you—?”

“This all started because of sex. You worked me up all day to have me at my wits’ end when we finally got back here at the end of the night. That was the plan, right?” 

You blink at him, that was the plan. Partially. “I just wanted you back here so we could talk—”

He smiles as he cuts you off, “You don’t want to talk, not really. I know what you want.” 

You sigh, frustration curling your fingers around the water bottle, ignoring the heat between your legs. He drops the blanket and the pillow on the floor as he takes another step forward, thighs just touching the mattress you sat on. 

“I do want to talk,” you frown, heart pounding against your chest, scared those five words will stop him from doing everything he was about to do. Voice lowering, you whispered, “I want you.”

“It’s pointless,” he shakes his head, smile dropped,.“You can’t separate it.”

“Because it’s already blended together,” your voice is still low, teetering on the edge of shaky. “The lines were crossed a long time ago, Yun.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right,” he meets your eye, and there’s nothing kind behind them. No emotion that makes you feel like there’s any possibility of salvaging what you had. You refuse to trust it, the mask he puts on, you cling to how he’s looked at you these past weeks, with love and trust in his eyes, the mask he wears now is to protect himself. 

You give him a bitter chuckle, “Who are you to tell me what’s right? Do you not feel anything when you look at me?” 

“When I look at you,” he keeps his face steady, emotionless. “I see Mingi’s girlfriend.”

“You’re a liar,” you spit, sitting up on your knees, crawling closer to him on the bed. He watches, unmoving, eyes not even flickering a change in feeling. “Why did you stick up for us to Sana then?”

“Because you’re my friends, and I’m tired of hearing her project her own insecurities onto you.”

“Why were you bothered when I told that Aurora girl you were single, then?” You stand on your knees atop the mattress, almost face to face with him. “You are single, aren’t you? You want to be single.”

“I don’t want to be single,” his voice cracks, exasperated, eyebrows shooting to his hairline, “but that doesn’t mean I can just join a relationship that’s been established for over five years!” 

“Why are you making it sound like a decision that’s made on a whim? We just spent the last four weeks already in one, Yunho,” you raise your voice to match his, every ounce of emotion punctuating each syllable. 

“We spent the past month fucking,” he lowers his voice, words sharp enough to cut. “That’s it.”

As if every single one of your emotions swim up to your waterline, your voice cracks as tears blur your vision, “You’re a bullshit fucking liar, Jeong Yunho.”

You keep your eyes on Yunho as Mingi enters the bedroom, catching the towel hanging from his waist out of your peripherals. Yunho breaks eye contact before you do, his eyes sliding to Mingi who stares dumbfounded in the doorway, then quickly closes the door behind him when his eyes land on you. 

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide and concerned, one hand on his towel as he quickly makes his way across the room. The streak of sunshine in a hurricane, you can feel the hostility fizzle, his presence comfort enough to cool the fire in your veins. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, then wipe your eyes with one hand as you sit back down on the mattress, legs folded beneath you. Your sniff betrays you, as if Mingi didn’t already know you were crying, “I’m fine.”

Mingi stands beside Yunho, a knit in his brow as he turns to his best friend, “What did you say?” 

“Nothing I haven’t said before,” Yunho bends down, picking up the blanket and pillow he was holding before. “I’m sleeping on the couch downstairs.”

“No you’re not,” Mingi chokes out a laugh in irritated disbelief, all of his features blown out as he faces him. “You’re not leaving again, you don’t get to walk out twice.”

Yunho’s chuckle mirrors Mingi’s, his voice louder and strained, “I don’t know what else you want me to say!”

“Say you don’t want us,” you answer from the bed, voice unsteady, terrified of his answer even if you’re certain you know it already. “Say you don’t want this, and we’ll let it go.” 

Yunho’s eyes dance between the two of you, the cogs turning in his mind visible in his tight features. Mingi takes a step away, walking towards the dresser, pulling out a pair of briefs to sleep in as he mumbles, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

You stare at Yunho as his lips open and close, racking his brain for something to say that isn’t that. He shakes his head, “Even if I want this, it doesn’t mean it’s right. What will everyone say?”

The slap of Mingi’s briefs against his hips sounds through the room, “Who gives a fuck what anyone has to say?” He faces Yunho, “If we’re happy, that’s all that matters.” 

“It’s not that easy,” Yunho drops the blanket and pillow again, his shoulders pushed back in defense, trying to hold onto what’s left of his control as his hands wave with each word. “As much as I want to believe everything will be sunshine and rainbows, it’s you two. Your relationship is concrete, everyone’s expecting a wedding within the next few years and you want to fuck all of that up?!” 

Your stomach drops with the validity of his fear, cheeks warming, ears burning hot. You and Mingi have never decided on marriage, not fully, the two of you semi-estranged from your families, not completely in a place financially to make that kind of commitment. A ring, a big party to show off your relationship was nowhere in the near future. A house came first. Stability came first. 

Yunho knows that. He knows all of that, but his fear is still valid– because what happens when you are stable? You and Mingi never got that far, the rest was hopes and dreams that would maybe come true one day. You swallow, sniffing again, raising a hand to wipe what’s left of your lingering tears as understanding turns into a bloom of warmth in your chest. 

“I understand this isn’t normal,” Mingi takes a step toward Yunho, confidence clear in his voice, it seems you’ve switched places since the last time you talked. Mingi looks over Yunho’s shoulder to meet your eye for a second before looking at Yunho again, “But this won’t fuck anything up, Yunho, our relationship has always been… What it is. This.” 

“Your relationship,” Yunho reiterates, his voice quiet, body leaning towards Mingi. “What if that doesn’t stay the same with me in the picture? What if down the line, you decide you want to get married? Do you want kids? Where does that leave me?” 

A rush of something you can’t describe swallows you whole. It was overwhelming enough having this conversation with Mingi, and you haven’t had the conversation again with Yunho in the picture, what that would look like for the three of you. Tears crawl their way back up, a tightness in your throat, heat in your cheeks. You didn’t have an answer to his question, fear leaves your stomach hollow, your limbs tingly.

“We’re not asking you to make a decision now,” Mingi’s hands curl around his waist. “Even if it seems like we are. All we know is that we want to be with you, we’re willing to figure all of the details out together, with you. We want you, Yunho, isn’t that enough to at least try?”

Yunho’s head dips down, his face hidden, sucking in a deep, grounding breath. You need to touch him, feel close to him, you need your skin on his, you need to feel like he still wants you. It feels like losing him– a sentiment you can’t bear to accept, you haul yourself off the bed and press yourself into his back. 

“This is a lot,” his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, weak, frail, strained with uncertainty. “I don’t know what to do, I- I want you too, but this is,” his voice breaks. “Terrifying.”

“I know,” you feel Mingi’s hands swimming along his sides as you keep your cheek pressed to his back, your fists balled into the cotton of his tee. Mingi continues, “You can do it, the commitment, the titles. It’s scary and vulnerable, but it’s us, we won’t hurt you.”

Another trembling breath leaves him as his forehead meets Mingi’s, his hands resting on your own, curled into his shirt. Your lip quivers, trying so hard to keep your own tears in to be the stability he needs, the rock you're used to being; seeing him hurting is like an arrow through your chest, it hurts the same way it does with Mingi.

“You don’t need to make a choice,” Mingi whispers. “But don’t shut us out. Don’t make us think we don’t mean anything to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Yunho whispers, sniffing, his body rigid between the two of you. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean any of it, I was scared. I am scared.”

You press your lips to his clothed spine, “It’s okay, Yunho.”

He squeezes your hands, palms over knuckle, his touch is grounding. Mingi’s hands glide from his waist over his chest up to the curvature of his shoulders, landing there for a moment as Yunho’s head perks up. Mingi leans in, lips grazing Yunho’s as his hands move to his neck, sliding up to cup his cheeks.

“Can I kiss you?” Soft, honest. Yunho barely gives him a nod before Mingi attaches their lips, Yunho’s hands darting to his waist. You keep your hands on him, body pressed into him, feeling Yunho’s body relax, shoulders drooping, back arching into Mingi’s touch. 

Their lips move slowly, unhurried, a practice of searching for something in one another, finding it, reveling in it. The air changes around you, expanding, room opening, tension slipping through the balcony door and into the saltwater air, dissipating into the humidity. Yunho’s hands find Mingi’s cheeks and they move together, bodies arching into one another, getting lost in emotion and feeling and longing, you could feel all of it, it bled from both of them and into you, watching from behind. 

Hands on Yunho’s waist, you guide him backward until your back hits the bed. You crawl onto it, never breaking your eyes from the pair, watching as Yunho uses one hand to support himself while Mingi lays him down onto the mattress. 

“I missed you.”

You’ve never heard him sound like that before. Emotional– soft and whiney, honest, like he’d pulled the words from the deepest part of his consciousness, a box he kept tucked away. It has you moving, crawling over to them, inserting yourself into their bubble. Yunho’s hand reaches for your cheek as soon as you come into view, your eyes meeting, and for the first time you see him consumed by lust without the harsh blade of control in his eyes. Raw, open, free, there’s nothing but delicacy swirling in chocolate brown as he pulls you down into him, attaching his lips to yours like he’d been waiting to do it all day. 

Hungrier than those with Mingi, his lips move quickly, tongue slotting between your lips to search your mouth for something true, as if you haven’t given him all of you since the start. “I want you,” you whisper, sharing his breath, a soft smile curving your lips before he swallows down your words with his mouth. You swing one leg over his hips and he sits up on an elbow, his other hand moving to your hip for leverage as he pushes himself up until he’s sitting, shifting you properly on his lap. 

Mingi moves behind him, hands on his waist under his shirt, lips finding his neck with soft presses of his lips as your fingers reach for the hem of his tee. “Need this off,” you whisper into his mouth. “Want to feel you.”

Mingi’s the one who pulls the cotton tee over his head, lips finding Yunho’s shoulder as you kiss his lips again, tongue dancing with his, hands splayed on his pecs, letting the warmth of him seep into you. Yunho reaches beneath your hoodie, fingers cold as they dance along your skin, palms curled around your waist while his thumbs brush against your abdomen, his touch is soft, like he’d break you if he pressed too hard. 

You break the kiss only to pull the hoodie over your head and Mingi steals Yunho’s lips, using two fingers to his chin to turn his face. You watch them for a moment before leaning in, lips following the curve of his jaw down to his throat, flattening your tongue down to the base of his neck, sucking into his skin just above his collarbone. He tastes clean, like his bodywash, him, your hands find the waistband of his sweats, tugging them downward. 

Yunho gasps as you slip them from under him, hips moving easily for you, “I– Are you sure?”

You’re nodding on command, “Of course, I’m sure.”

He’s talking as you tug his briefs down to his thighs. “I said a lot of things.”

“You didn’t mean them,” Mingi answers as you settle yourself between his thighs, coaxing Yunho backward until his back is pressed to his chest. 

His cock stands tall against his pelvis, pink-kissed and leaking, it makes your mouth water. Yunho’s hips twitch as your nails graze his thighs, making you smile, eyeing him through your brows. He looks… scared. Like this was unknown territory, his eyes wide, red splotched chest rapidly rising and falling, fingers curled into the sheets beside him. 

It makes you want to take care of him in the same way he’s always taken care of you. 

“Is this okay?” You ask softly, making him nod. Your head tilts, needing the words to continue, “Do you want this?”

“Yes– fuck,” his hips twitch again, brows raising like he’s surprising himself. “I want it, I want you. Please.” 

There’s a pit in your gut as the plea leaves his lips and you’re wrapping your fingers around his length, making a show of the glob of spit dropping from your tongue and onto his length, using your fingers to spread it. He groans, head tipping back into Mingi’s chest as you start working his length with your hand, watching him carefully. So pretty, hair mussed about, chest splotchy and body twitching, you wonder if this is how you look beneath him. You dip your head down, tongue lolling out of your mouth to lick at his tip, salty, raw, Yunho– you wrap your lips around him and suck. 

“Fuck,” he draws out the word, low and heavy, a hand reaching down to tangle into your hair. You let him ease you down his length, tongue flat against the underside of him, lips suctioned tight. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

There he is. You smile, barely, lips stretched around the width of him, bobbing your head as your fist works the base of him, pumping, twisting, gripping him just right– the moan he releases is nothing but nasty, Mingi swallows it, stealing his lips again, you can hear their mouths as much as you can hear your mouth around his length, everything wet, sloppy. Mingi’s hands reach beneath his arms to his chest, thumbs flicking over his nipples and his hips buck into you, making you gag, a hand clawing into his thigh, eyes squeezing tight. 

“Sorry– fuck,” he curses again, voice desperate, “feels so good, don’t stop.”

You take him down your throat, gagging yourself purposefully as your nose meets the tuft of black hair at his base, the hand that was curled around him reaching below, cupping his balls softly, tightening your throat around him as you squeeze your palm ever so lightly. The sound that leaves him is obscene, abdomen clenching, his hands finding Mingi’s thighs, nails digging into his skin. You bob your head, breathing through your nose to keep him deeply rooted in your throat, constricting around him just to hear that noise over and over. 

“Oh my god,” his voice is strained, harsh, “I’m gonna cum– I want to fuck you, please, wait–”

His hand finds your hair but you don’t budge, keeping your rhythm on his cock, nose buried in his hair as your saliva drips from your lips and onto his pelvis, sliding down to where your hand lays below. 

“Baby, baby–”

His moan is strangled, caught in his throat as his limbs lock, legs straightening while his grip tightens in your hair, hips bucking into your mouth once, twice before his release shoots down your throat. You swallow him down, keeping your mouth suctioned to him as you ride out his high until he’s shaking, slipping off of him with your tongue still flat to ensure you’ve gotten every last drop. 

You break off of him with a pop, eyes glassy as you find him winded. Chest heaving, head lazily thrown on Mingi’s chest, your brown-haired boyfriend just smiled proudly from behind him. 

“Mouth just as dangerous as your pussy,” Mingi says, hands still splayed across Yunho’s abdomen, fingers softly petting his skin. 

“Only for you,” your smile is coy, of all things. Crawling up to where they sat, you lean down and press a kiss to Mingi’s lips, then one to Yunho’s. He still looks winded when you pull away, making you giggle, “You okay?”

He nods, “I just… I haven’t come since the last time, with you. Need a second.”

You snort, “A whole week, is that a new record or something?”

Yunho smiles, laughter in the exhale through his nose, “Don’t get smart with me, I haven’t forgotten about today.”

You lean down to press another kiss to his lips, keeping yourself close as you say, “Been waiting for the chance to do something about it, like you said?”

His eyes flicker up to yours. In that one sentence it’s as if you reminded him who he was, what he’s capable of. These eyes you know, deep and controlled, harsh in a way that tickles your spine. Your core clenches around nothing, tongue poking out to lick over your lips, anticipation heating your blood.

“Take off your pants, sit at the top of the bed.”

He barely gets the sentence out before you’re shimmying yourself out of your sweatpants, crawling up to your pillows. You’re vibrating as Yunho turns to Mingi, standing up on his knees, grabbing the younger man with one palm below his jaw to pull him upward. Mingi scrambles to his knees, brows already furrowed, lips still touching in the center as they part. 

Yunho smashes his lips into Mingi’s, there’s nothing graceful about the way his other hand digs into the nape of Mingi’s neck, making him arch into the older man with a whimper pouring straight into his mouth as his hands find Yunho’s biceps for leverage. It’s messy, rough, Yunho picking him apart with nothing but his lips– it makes your knees tie together, adding pressure between your thighs. 

“You,” Yunho starts, the word accusatory, giving Mingi another unforgiving press of his lips before he continues. “Teased me all day. Taunting me during volleyball, in front of our friends, do you have anything you want to say to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Mingi squeaks, fingers curling into Yunho’s biceps, the sound makes a smile spread across your cheeks, eyes flaring. 

“Louder.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Better,” Yunho mumbles, reaching down to pull his shirt up and over his head. One hand reaches down to palm Mingi over his briefs, palm flat and fingers splayed over his length, and Mingi folds upon contact. Head dipping low, abdomen clenching, a groan spills from his lips as his hips buck into Yunho’s touch. 

“Don’t tease,” Mingi whispers, voice a strangled moan. 

Yunho huffs a laugh, “Like you teased me earlier? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

Mingi lifts his head up to look at Yunho just as he starts grinding his palm against his length, bare chest leaning into Mingi’s, using his height to his advantage to look down at him. Mingi sputters, “T-That’s different, Yun. We were trying–”

“Trying to what?” Yunho squeezes his length and Mingi whimpers. Yunho smiles, “Bait me into fucking you in front of everyone?” 

“No–”

“Then what?”

“Wanted to feel like you still wanted us,” Mingi says it all in one strained breath, his voice rising in pitch as Yunho’s hand slips beneath his briefs, fingers wrapping around his length. 

“I wanted you,” Yunho’s voice slips into something quieter, other hand reaching up around Mingi’s neck, thumb brushing over his bottom lip as before brings his face to Mingi’s, lips almost touching. “The whole time.”

“You left,” Mingi’s voice is barely above a whisper, shaky, a hiss leaving his lips when Yunho twists his wrist, palm closing over the tip of his cock. Yunho pushes Mingi’s briefs down his thighs, lowering Mingi down until his knees are spread, arms splayed behind him, cock jumping against his pelvis, red, angry and leaking like a fucking faucet.

“Do you want my mouth?” Yunho, between Mingi’s knees, asks before his eyes slide to you at the top of the bed. “Or do you want to be filled?”

Mingi’s brows raise. “I get a choice?”

Yunho shrugs. “My way of saying sorry.”

Both of their eyes slide to you and your eyes widen under their attention, back straightening against the pillows. They drink in your posture, knees pressed together, hands scrunched in the sheets as if that’s the only thing keeping you from slipping your hand between your legs. 

“Come.”

Yunho’s voice is unyielding, it has you crawling across the mattress on all fours, landing on your knees before them. Mingi’s head tilts, “Thought I had a choice?”

Yunho snorts his amusement, “Like you’d choose anything other than my cock filling you up.” He plants a hand against your cheek, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead, “You can kiss while I prep him, but don’t touch.”

You nod, eager as you settle yourself laid down in front of Mingi, your beautiful boyfriend who already looked so gone. Cheeks pink, chest heavy, his muscled biceps land on either side of your head against the mattress, your calves curling over his thighs with him above you. His cock lands against your lower tummy, heavy, sticky, the order not to touch has your heart picking up speed in your chest, a desire you can’t fulfill. 

“Hi, baby,” Mingi’s smiling as he presses one, soft kiss to your lips. Your arms are bent up, hands on either side of your shoulders, palms faced up with your fingers loose and limp, hips fighting the urge to buck up into him. 

You push out a sigh, “Need you,” your back arches instead, nipples pebbling beneath the breeze that drifts through the room. “Wanna feel full.”

He places another soft kiss on your lips, “Soon.” He deepens the kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth, you can taste him, taste Yunho, it makes you moan into him, fingers twitching because you want them on his face, in his hair, around his cock. 

Yunho leaves the bed to cross the room, you hear him opening the closet, the zipper of the duffel he brought sliding open, but Mingi’s tongue is licking into your mouth, rendering you thoughtless, you don’t care to look over. “Wanna touch you,” you whisper, back arching more until your nipples press against his warm skin, whining at the contact. 

“Patience, baby,” his lips find your jaw, elbows closing in around your head, tongue sliding down to your neck to lick a stripe back up to your jaw. You moan, legs tightening around his thighs, hips bucking against his length that tapped against your stomach with each movement. Torture, being naked beneath him, wanting so badly to touch, to feel. 

You feel the dip of the bed when Yunho kneels behind him, you hear the cap snapping open on what you can only assume is a bottle of lube. It makes you smirk, knowing he brought it with him, that it was in his bag, waiting to be used. Yunho’s palms flatten over Mingi’s ass, and his head dips down into your shoulder at the contact, in anticipation of what comes next. 

You watch over Mingi’s shoulder as Yunho squirts some into his hand, closing it before running two fingers down the space between, thumb circling his hole. Mingi’s whole body jerks, gasping into your neck, cock digging into your stomach.

“Open up for me,” Yunho says softly, “let me in.”

Mingi’s knees spread a little wider, lips meeting your shoulder, your neck, back arching lower, the position Yunho likes. Yunho keeps his eyes on you beneath him as he pushes a finger inside, his own brows furrowing together at the feeling of him, the tightness around his digit.

“Shit,” Mingi whimpers into your skin and one hand comes up to tangle in his hair, relaxing him into the stretch, all while keeping your eyes on Yunho. 

“That’s it,” Yunho nods, voice just above a whisper, “there you go.”

Yunho bites his lip as he crooks his finger and Mingi fucks back, head lifting from your shoulder to push himself into the older man, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. You quickly turn your head to catch a glimpse, his slacked jaw, eyes softly shut, brows knitted together in pleasure, so fucking beautiful. The sight of him when you’re wrapped around his cock versus Yunho pushing into him, the sight of his pleasure was so different, so raw seeing him this way, so open and desperate. 

“Yes,” you find yourself whispering, back arching at his pleasure, almost feeling it as if it were your own. 

Yunho adds another finger, making Mingi moan, lifting himself up onto his palms, head craning to see Yunho behind him. “More, gimme your cock, I can take it.”

Yunho nods, ripping open a condom packet from beside him and slipping it on in one quick motion. Tapping his cock between Mingi’s cheeks, he looks over Mingi’s shoulder to you, “Go ahead.”

At the speed of fucking light you’re reaching between you, making Mingi gasp as your fingers wrap around his length, Yunho lining himself up behind him as you line him up at your center. You didn’t need the prep, the head of his cock slipping around as soon as you brought it to your slit, sliding through your wetness until it caught against your entrance, making you gasp out a moan. 

“Fuck,” Mingi’s voice sounds strangled, strained, preparing himself to fuck you full while he gets fucked full– you’ve done it plenty, but each and every time it’s overwhelming for him, for you to be fucked by Yunho’s thrusts. 

“Breathe,” Yunho says, and it’s both a warning and an order as he pushes inside, making Mingi’s breath catch in his throat until he forces it down into the base of his lungs. Yunho groans, head tipping back as he slowly pushes inward until he seats himself inside. 

One of your hands cups his face, pressing your lips against his unmoving ones, “That feels good?”

“Full,” Mingi grits out as Yunho bottoms out, hands squeezing his ass, face contorted in pleasure. 

You smile, pressing your lips into the corner of his mouth, “Ready?”

He nods, eyes screwed shut, mouth stuck open like he’d unhinged his jaw. You tighten your legs over his thighs, an elbow planted under you, lifting your hips up to press his tip inside, and with Yunho’s next thrust he’s pushing inside, all the way, all at once. Your eyes blow wide as a shrill sound escapes you, and Yunho’s head picks up over Mingi’s back. 

“If you’re loud, I stop,” Yunho grits out. “We don’t need the whole house hearing us.”

Your other arm is clawing at Mingi’s shoulder, so fucking full and stretched out it’s dizzying, you barely process Yunho’s words as Mingi catches your lips with his own. The three of you readjust closer together now that you’re positioned, and with every thrust of Yunho’s hips against Mingi, Mingi fucks into you the same. 

“So tight, Min,” Yunho gasps. “Missed this ass, fuck, craved this tight fuckin’ thing.” 

He’s beautiful, hair soft and messy, brows quirked in focus as he watches himself drill into Mingi, how his cock disappears, how Mingi sucks him in with each thrust. You’re clinging to Mingi, one arm over his shoulder as your hips fuck back into him, his cock curving into you just right, making you moan into his lips as his tongue steals every sound from your throat, pouring another one right back into yours. 

“Faster,” you whimper, eyes lifting. “Please, Yun. More.”

“Never satisfied,” Yunho spits out through his clenched teeth, two hands gripping Mingi’s hips as he fucks into him harder, faster, ricocheting into you, body slamming into the mattress with each thrust. You’re a crying, whimpering mess, clawing into Mingi’s skin as he cries into your mouth, lost in a bubble of pleasure, Mingi’s body locking up with each thrust of Yunho’s hips. 

“I’m close,” Mingi whispers, straining. “Fuck, too good, so full, you’re so tight–”

“Cum,” you whisper, hips rolling into each thrust. “Fill me up, baby. Come on.”

Yunho’s hands slide up to his waist, nails biting into his sides, “Hold it.”

Your hips buck into him faster, a pit forming in your stomach as the pleasure builds, catching Mingi’s lips again. Yunho slaps his palm against Mingi’s ass as he feels Mingi buck into you, “Hold it.”

“Can’t!” Mingi cries, “I can’t, I cant, I’m cumming–”

You moan as his cock twitches inside you, still rolling your hips against him as he fills you up, warmth spreading through your lower half. Yunho hisses from behind, “You never fuckin’ listen.”

You smile, dazed and lazy as you stare up at him over Mingi’s back, “Happens every time.”

“Fuck,” Yunho huffs, “wanted to cum inside you, Min.”

You slow your hips as Mingi’s arms waver, shaking on either side of you. “’m sorry,” Mingi says, breathless. “Felt so fucking good.”

You pull your hips off of him as you let go of his shoulder, falling flat against the bed as he crumbles on top of you, Yunho pulling out behind him. Sated, he hums into your shoulder, left hand digging beneath your back, holding you close. 

Yunho slips off the condom and pulls you toward him by your ankles, Mingi’s startled enough by the action to roll off of you and onto his back, head turned with eyes half open to watch as Yunho tugs you upward by your hips. Yunho sinks down to sit on his calves, pulling your thighs over his, not wasting a second as he runs his cock through your folds, spreading Mingi’s release. You hiss at the contact, hips bucking into him, digging your elbows beneath you to hold you up. “Kiss me,” you beg, “kiss me while you fuck me, please. Need it.”

His brows furrow, lips parting like you’d just taken your cock down his throat, your words hitting like a pang to his gut. He lines himself up, cock prodding at your entrance as he leans forward, grabbing you by your waist to pull you on top of him, using your thighs on his as leverage to sit yourself over his cock. 

Lowering yourself onto him, you lay your hands over his shoulders to attach your lips to his, nothing about it structured or neat as he pushes inch after inch into your heat. You moan into him, whining as you reach the base of him, feeling the full length of him in your fucking guts. 

“Big,” you mumble, a whiney whisper. “Wanna cum on your cock, Yunho.”

His fingers tighten around your waist, lifting you up on his cock before slamming you back down, making you cry out into his mouth. “Quiet,” he grunts, then places a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I know it feels good, baby.”

Your fingers claw into his shoulders, “So good, missed your cock, fills me up so fuckin’ perfect, so full.”

He guides you with two hands on your waist, lifting you, lowering you, shifting you into a dirty grind, “Take me so well,” he says before he kisses you again. “Pussy so tight, missed her, missed you.”

You catch his lips, words staggered by each slap of your hips against his, “Don’t fucking leave again.”

His fingers sear your waist, squeezing so hard you’re sure they’ll leave marks behind, making you moan. You grind yourself into him, rolling your hips until his cock reaches the sweet spot inside you, a high pitched noise escaping your lungs before you can stop it. 

“Shit,” you cry out, panicking at the pleasure, lowering your voice. “Shit, shit, shit– good, right there, so good.”

Yunho meets you where you roll into him and your eyes drop to watch, his sculpted abdomen flexing under the movement, how you swallow his cock with each grind, it’s too much. Mingi’s behind you before you can process it, feeling his heat before his bare skin, his lips at your neck, teeth grazing your steaming skin, fingers toying at your chest, you fall into him as your hips move on their own. 

“Min,” you moan out. “Yunho, fuck– wanna cum, wanna cum,” you’re repeating the words like a mantra, Yunho’s cock kissing your walls, the tip of him running over that spot inside you like it has nowhere else to go. 

“Cum,” Mingi says into your skin. “Cum around his cock, let him feel it.”

You grind your teeth, a strangled sound escaping you, so close you could fucking taste it. 

“Need more, baby?” Yunho asks, breathless, jaw clenched like he was holding himself back. “My girl, never satisfied, always needs more.”

“Insatiable,” Mingi’s tongue drags along your neck and you nearly fold, the pleasure overwhelming. One of his hands dips down between you, two fingers rubbing at your clit and your eyes blow wide, entire body jerking forward at the touch. 

“There she goes,” Yunho smiles and your breath completely catches in your throat, hips stuttering in their grind, he quickly uses two hands on your hips to keep you moving in rhythm. You feel it building impossibly further, your orgasm right below the surface, your skin vibrating, your breath coming out in shallow bursts. 

Mingi reaches up, one hard pinch to one of your nipples and you’re falling forward, head on Yunho’s shoulder as your limbs lock, pressure blowing, euphoria consuming every inch of your being. You hear Yunho mumble something haphazardly to Mingi before he’s pushing you backward, holding onto your hipbones as he drills into you, chasing his own high. It’s more than overwhelming, your orgasm never ending, prolonged with each thrust of his cock inside you.

 “Mouth,” Yunho bites, and Mingi’s palm clasps over your lips on command. You don’t even realize what sounds are leaving you, that your lungs are even working properly, so consumed by euphoria. 

You’re seizing around him, body twitching, core clenching with each thrust of his cock until his hips stutter, emptying himself inside you with consistent, punched strokes so you feel every inch of him, every drop of him as he fills you up. 

Mingi releases your mouth when Yunho finally pauses, his hand shaky, chest heaving, cock half-hard again against his thigh. The only sound in the room is your breathing, distant waves crashing ashore, the sound of the breeze blowing through the room, making the curtains dance around the balcony doors. 

“I could watch you two forever,” Mingi mumbles, more to himself than to you. 

Yunho pulls out slowly, keeping a hand steady cupped over your center, so if you do drip it’s not on San’s comforter. Always thinking ahead, even after sex, when one would think his brain would turn at least a little fuzzy. 

You swallow down nothing but air in your dry throat, reaching for the man beside you and the other across from you, “Lay with me.”

“You need to shower,” Yunho counters, running his other hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “Or pee, at least. Get this out of you so we can sleep.”

You mumble your discontent, groaning, body spent and tired but so fucking elated at what just transpired. Yunho smiles up at you, “We aren’t at home, little lady, you need to go pee.”

“Little lady?” You and Mingi ask at the same time, mocking him, brows furrowed, smiles amused. You snort, “Try a different nickname.”

“Shut up and go to the bathroom,” Yunho huffs, standing up off the bed, pulling you by your ankles to the edge. Mumbling under his breath, he’s looking at the sheets, “Always something to say.”

“You love it,” you smirk, standing on shaky, tired legs. You wobble, he slides a grounding arm around your waist, you look up at him with smiling eyes, “If I wasn’t such a brat you wouldn’t have anything to punish me for.”

“A well-behaved submissive is a well-trained one,” he’s quick to respond.

You scowl, eyes pointed as you look at him, throwing an arm over his shoulder, “I’m not your submissive.”

“What are you, then?” He asks and you steal your arm back from over his shoulder, ignoring the leakage between your thighs, just to look up at him and see him smirking, face fully amused. 

“Not funny,” you grumble. “Mingi will shower with me, you can wait outside.”

“No,” he half-whines the word, still fully amused, leaning into you before he bends at his knees, scooping you from beneath your legs into his arms bridal-style. “We’re all showering together, end of story. Say a prayer that Jihyo and Jongho are asleep.”

You’re giggling at him butt-ass naked in the dark hallway, it seemed Jihyo and Jongho were asleep with how easily you snuck into the bathroom without being caught, Mingi on your heel. Your shower was innocent, soft touches and bubbly soap, exhaustion dancing in the steam, the humor had dissipated and exposed what was left over. The three of you, together again. Whole.

Back in bed, you in the middle, Mingi on your left, Yunho on your right, you didn’t even bother with clothes. The only light came from the still open balcony doors, moonlight acting as a beacon, calming in how it coated the room in a soft pale hue. 

“I really did miss you,” Mingi cuts through what felt like an hour of silence, just waves and breeze. “We missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Yunho’s response is soft, fingers playing in Mingi’s hair above you, you cocooned in the middle of the two. 

For the first time, those three little words sat on your tongue, begging to be said. Instead, you ask, “You know what you said? The submissive thing?”

His hand cups your cheek, “I was just kidding, baby.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not that. I was wondering… What it’d be like.”

“To be my sub?” His brows raise, tipping your head up to look at him. “Like, for real?”

You smile, “Yes, for real. I’ve wondered since Woo’s going away party, what you’re like when you’re serious about it.”

“You don’t think I’m serious with you?”

“You know you let shit slide,” you narrow your eyes. “A lot slide. I want to experience a day, in public and stuff when you’re being you. In your element.”

Yunho’s eyes slide up to Mingi, “You too, baby?”

Mingi smiles, bashful but honest, nodding. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious, too.”

“You’re both untrained–”

“You’ve taught us a lot,” you cut him off. Rearranging yourself, head pressed into Mingi’s chest so you can see Yunho easier, you urge, “We can do it. Let us try tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yunho.”

“Fine,” his smile is soft, eyes so dreamy it’s hard to comprehend that a man like him could ever be mean. If you hadn’t experienced it, you wouldn’t believe it. You love him mean. You love him nice. You love how he looks at you. You keep the words inside. 

“We’ll talk about it more in the morning.”

You didn’t say another word, other than goodnight. You could still hear the waves crashing onto the shore just outside the house, you could smell Yunho’s body wash everywhere, the moon shining down on your bedroom, for the first time in days, everything felt… Peaceful. Normal. 

Your heartbeat hasn’t been this even since the day Yunho walked out of your apartment.

Feet twitching, a tickle on your leg, your nose scrunches as consciousness pulls your eyelids apart. You suck in a short breath when you feel warmth on your thigh, the heaviness of a hand, Yunho’s hand, it snaps you awake like someone poured cold water over your head. 

“What are you doing?”

His other hand moves your panties to the side, his head already between your legs, which was enough to answer your sleep-induced question. Your thighs parted for him further, arms limp against the bed, you could hear the soft snores from Mingi still fast asleep beside you. 

A moan passes softly through your lips as his tongue makes contact with your center, slipping between your folds, lips swirling around your clit. The fingers curling into your thigh tells you to shut up, and you listen by slotting your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes screwed shut. 

Fuck, you’ve missed his hands on you, you’ve missed his mouth, you’ve missed the way he tells you what to do without saying a fucking word. You’ve missed everything about him. 

He pulls away only to pull your panties down your thighs, throwing them somewhere on the floor before both hands push into the plush of your thighs, spreading them wider than before. The mewl that leaves your lips, the way your leg bumps into Mingi’s sleeping body has his eyes cracking open, confusion and sleepiness present in the way he blinks himself awake. 

“Damn,” Mingi groans, stretching out his limbs as Yunho devours you all over again. “I’ve missed this.”

Mingi leans over, pressing his lips sleepily into your neck, tongue poking out to slide up onto your jaw, your mind clouded with a whirlwind of pleasure. Too long since you’ve had two bodies on you, focused on you, pleasuring you, days had felt like months. 

Yunho’s hand left your thigh to grab onto Mingi’s ankle, pulling him downward, a cue to get off of you without him saying a word. Mingi shuffled himself down the bed until Yunho grabbed his already stiff length over his briefs, Mingi pushed them over his hips and down his thighs, eager to feel Yunho’s touch like it was the first time. 

Yunho’s fingers slip through your folds to gather the wetness onto his hand just to use it in gliding his hand over Mingi’s length, which had both of you squirming in pleasure, light moans blending together. He spits on your center before sitting up on his knees, slipping two fingers inside you, the other hand still pumping Mingi’s length, he used the same rhythm on both of you, where you both stared up at him with parted lips, furrowed brows, glassy eyes, you think that maybe you were dreaming, or maybe you’d gone to heaven in your sleep. 

“Missed me, huh?”

You and Mingi nod erratically, your hips jerking into his touch, he wore a cocky smirk and half-lidded eyes that told you he missed you just as much. Having the two of you splay out beneath him, victim to his hands, to his hold over you entirely, he had you exactly where he wanted you. 

His fingers curled into you at the same time as his wrist twisted around Mingi’s length, movements he knew drove you close to the edge, you could feel the pit in your stomach forming just from how deep his fingers hit inside you. He knew you so well, too well, he could pull you to orgasm so fast, even at god knows what time in the morning. From the rising sun outside of your balcony, you knew it was early.

“You want to be with me for real?” Raised eyebrows, temptation in his voice, a depth to his eyes that only came out when he was in the mood to have you crying beneath him, the ghost of fear nipped at your spine. You nodded.

“You– fuck,” Mingi gasped, hips bucking into Yunho’s hand. “You know we do.”

“Then you’ll learn what it’s like to be with me,” staring down at you beneath his brows, his jawline sharp from where you looked up at him, you gulped at the sight of gravity in his eyes. Fingers hitting the spongy spot inside you repeatedly, it was hard to feel the fear through the pleasure, to understand the weight of his words as he pulled you so damn close to the finish line. 

 “Yes,” you whispered, back arching, eyes closing, your orgasm so close you could taste it. 

Mingi wasn’t far behind, his fingers curling into the bedsheets, his legs trembling, small gasps and mewls falling from his lips one after another, it was ridiculous how easily he had the two of you rendered stupid before him. 

Lifting yourself onto your elbows, your voice shaky, you cry, “I-I’m close.”

“Me too, don’t stop, Yunho,” Mingi moans from beside you, sounding weary, teetering on the edge. 

Yunho smiles, a flicker of something in his eye that assured you the fear in your spine was right. His fingers scissor you open like he could make you cum with his eyes closed. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t give you permission, and you push a heavy breath through your lips like it’d help pause your impending orgasm while you wait for the green light. 

“I’ve been too lenient with you,” he bites the inside of his cheek. “I did some thinking, too, and I think you two forgot who I am, why you asked me to share your bed in the first place.”

Your eyes blow wide, panic surging through you, “Yunho, I’m gonna cum–”

He slips his fingers out of you at the same time as he pulls his hand away from Mingi’s cock, your thighs snap together, a curse slipping from your lips. A too verbal cry leaves Mingi’s throat, his cock spurting ropes of white cum onto his hips, his stomach, his orgasm completely ruined. 

“We’ll see if you still want me by the end of today,” Yunho is smiling while ignoring Mingi’s heaving chest and teary eyes, proud of himself, happy with what he had just done to the two of you. Your eyes are dancing between Yunho and your boyfriend that has tears slipping past his waterline, his jaw dropped in shock, in anguish of what had just been done to him. You wished you could have seen his raw reaction, the moment his orgasm was denied.

“I didn’t forget everything that happened yesterday, did you?” He asks, eyebrows raised, eyes flickering between you and Mingi. “Today will be different.”

Your body was on fucking fire– fear, arousal, the orgasm that was still on the brink beneath your hipbones, you didn’t know which emotion to pay attention to first. You tried to speak, some form of rebuttal, every string of words came out jumbled, completely incoherent. Yunho grinned. Mingi whimpered. 

“Clean yourselves up and come to breakfast,” Yunho climbs off the bed, running a hand through his black locks as he makes for the door. “Don’t touch each other, don’t touch yourselves. I’ll know if you do.”

You swear the beach is hotter than it was yesterday. 

All thirteen of you, after having breakfast out on the deck, packed up for another beach day that was thankfully right in San’s metaphorical backyard. No one was acting out of the ordinary, it seemed safe that no one heard the three of you getting edged by Yunho’s hands just a few hours ago, or getting split open by his cock last night, but you wondered if anyone could pick up how fucking frustrated you and your boyfriend were come this morning. 

You obeyed Yunho, you didn’t touch each other after he left this morning, instead you kept your distance in your bedroom while you got ready for breakfast, as Mingi took a cold shower, letting ice fill his veins as he replayed his ruined orgasm in his mind. 

Yunho was careful around you at breakfast, around your friends, only meeting your eye when he felt yours on him, while you were daydreaming, fantasizing, watching how his veiny hands picked up his utensils, how his pretty pink lips wrapped around the food he ate, how his body bent when he stood up from the kitchen table, the low rumble in his tired voice as he spoke to Hongjoong…

“This one.”

After escaping a calm breakfast, you were upstairs, getting ready for the impending beach day. Yunho had picked out a pair of swim shorts for Mingi, ones with a longer inseam, and had ruffled through all the bikinis you brought with you, choosing one less skimpy, but still as revealing as a bikini would be. 

He handed you a black triangle bikini with small, white polka dots printed on the nylon, the bottoms were string-tied, the back ruched at the middle. Thrill danced in your blood at the thought of wearing something he chose for you, an invisible display of dominance to the people who would see you in it. He hasn’t done this yet. This was new. 

“We’re playing today,” he sat back on the bed, you and Mingi standing before him, backs straight, heels touching, as per Yunho’s request. You were already buzzing with adrenaline, excitement, anticipation. “If it’s too much, you know what to say, but I’ll be expecting obedience, without question. Understood?” 

You and Mingi nod furiously– he clicks his tongue. 

“Yes, sir,” scrambles out of both of your mouths simultaneously. You’ve never spoken about or decided on a title formally, you’ve only said the word to Yunho playfully a few times, just for him to respond ‘be careful what you wish for.’ 

You were more than careful, it’s indescribable how the title makes you feel. Yunho has taken care of you both from the start, slipped into a role on his own when he started spending time with you, but today he’d officially take on the role fully, no shortcuts, no excuses.

There were times you’ve gone grocery shopping or went out to eat and he’s told you to not speak unless spoken to, to only walk on the right side of him, Mingi on his left. Something like this lit a fire in your belly, playing in front of your friends when you and Mingi knew Yunho didn’t want them to know anything about you three, you’d have to be discreet, yet still obey him completely, it made you nervous. Excited to comply, to appease him. Still excited, but nervous about what happens if you don't. 

This was Yunho, unshielded, unapologetically himself, this was Yunho showing you who he is, what he wants. Your request had turned into a test, one you deeply wanted to pass; because in your mind, passing felt like the last obstacle. That if you passed, he’d have no reason to deny you any longer, no further reason to say no.

Because he didn’t answer you last night with a yes, in your mind, it was still a no.

Excitement flared in your eyes when he nodded, pleased, “Good.”

When he laid out the rules for today, they seemed simple. 

You’re to sit with good posture on his left, Mingi on his right. Easy. There shouldn’t ever be sand on his towel, if there is, you or Mingi clean it off when you see it. The thought of the two of you doting on him makes your heart skip a beat. 

You’re both to make sure he is never without a drink, you get him another when he’s finished the one he has. He’s testing your ability to pay attention, to focus on him only. He should be at the forefront of your mind all day— as if he already doesn’t live there. 

 If you need anything, if you want anything, you ask permission first. Submission, structure. 

No complaining about the sand, the heat, if you or Mingi are in distress, you tell him properly, without whining. He wants you polite, but neither you nor Mingi were one to complain about anything, anyhow. 

You both are to stay within arm’s reach of him all day. You want to be by his side, anyways, but being expected to… you would pass his test with flying colors. 

You didn’t ask what happens if you didn’t follow them, maybe you should’ve. It feels full circle from Wooyoung’s going away party all that time ago, when you were curious about the date he brought, why she acted the way she did. How a part of you craved it, when you didn’t even know what it was. 

The sun scorched the sand, inescapable, a dry heat that was only eased by the salty breeze that snuck past your bodies every now and then, so sporadically you could barely call it relief. You had created a small village on the beach, multicolored towels laid out in a line, beach chairs, umbrellas, coolers with liquor, bags full of snacks, a large speaker that played nostalgic music over the sound of waves crashing on the shore. Looking at the scene made you laugh, you could remember coming to the beach with the same damn people with nothing but a towel and a handle of vodka. 

A lifetime ago. 

You sat with your knees bent in a pretzel, back straight, palms in your lap. A drink was buried in the sand next to you, something sour, Tzuyu mixed it, she claimed one was enough to keep you buzzed for a while. That was fine with you, sunglasses on your face, watching the waves fold onto the wet sand at the shoreline, head tilted, humming to a song you knew all too well while it danced with the breeze. 

Yunho bent down beside you on the empty, clean baby blue towel, the corners still stiff and bent from how it was folded in San’s linen closet, the print on it still bright, likely new. Your chin perked up with his presence, sunglasses perched on his nose, black hair already damp with sweat and mussed on his forehead, sun-kissed and angelic. Your mouth watered before he uttered a word. 

“You have sunscreen on?” Short, curt, filled with expectation. It wasn’t just the simple question forcing a rush of adrenaline to sweep through you, heart rate picking up, fingertips twitching against your skin, it was his tone; strong, composed, yet somehow condescending, as if you couldn’t remember to put your own sunscreen on. 

You nodded, the need to appease him curling low in your gut, the desire to make him pleased. His tongue clicked, words. You sputtered, “Yes, I put some on before we left the house.” 

“That was an hour and a half ago,” he sighed, running long, milky fingers through the damp black locks on his head. “I’ll get some.”

He used his palms braced on his thighs to stand again and your neck twisted to Mingi on the far towel, raising your brows.

Mingi gave you a small shrug, Here we go. 

You glanced around the group, taking in everyone’s whereabouts. San and Jongin laid out on beach chairs beneath the sun, carved abdomens dipped in honey, shiny and slicked by sunscreen and sweat. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were down by the shore, mid-conversation, hats blanketing their hair, ankle-deep in the water. Tzuyu, Jihyo and Sana laid in a line to your left, gossiping, drinking, bodies a contrast to the towels beneath them. 

Wooyoung had dragged Jongho and Yeosang into the sand off to your right, convincing the two men to bury him. You think Wooyoung started drinking when his eyes opened this morning. 

You felt Yunho’s presence at your back like a shadow, a promise of unfinished business. He leaned in tight, next to your ear, “This drink is the only one you’ll have today.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you nodded. You didn’t ask permission before drinking it. His silence, his lack of movement, snapped you back into place, back straightening. “Yes.” 

“Yes what?” 

Fuck. You could genuinely moan at his tone, the way he’s biting his words, silvery in what he expects of you, the power he holds in two small words. Maybe he wants you all fuzzy and moldable, like jelly, testing your ability to control yourself and keep your focus on him. 

“Yes, sir,” it’s a mere mumble under your breath, head tucked down, just low enough for him to hear. You can feel Mingi’s eyes on you, you wonder if he heard, too, or if your cowering body is lost on him. 

Yunho hums in satisfaction, “Sit on your knees, I’ll get your back.” 

You don’t hesitate to tuck your knees under your body, ass pressed against your calves, the breeze on your now exposed tummy making you feel bare. Exposed in front of your friends. You can’t believe how it sends a deep pang of arousal through your entire fucking body. You hear the bottle open, lotion squirting into his hands, rubbing it together in his palms before he touches you. 

It’s like lightning hit you, how your entire body jerks at his touch, how his palm pressed to your skin makes your thighs clench on command, excitement thrumming beneath your skin. You can blame it on this morning, how he left you tightly wound and needy, the rules swimming in your mind, but the truth was that any time his skin touches yours it’s electrifying, it reminds you of all the times he’s fucked you brainless, it makes you ache for more. 

He rubs the lotion onto your back slowly, massaging it in, you couldn’t tell if his movements were erotic or if your brain had dropped to the gutter. Over your hips, the sides of your waist, the tops of your shoulders, the backs of your arms, each movement was controlled, slow in a way that let you feel each point of pressure, how he was studying you as he worked the lotion onto your skin. Your neck inevitably bends, head drooping, shoulders slouching, despite the lotion being cold, his hands on you were so warm. Your thighs untensed, knees breaking apart, lungs emptying themselves into the summer air, it felt so fucking good to have his hands on you. 

One palm smoothes up your spine, fingers curling around the back of your neck, the other hand squeezing your hip over the waistband of your bottoms. “Up,” he bites, the singular word a nasty whisper. “Pathetic for you to lose your composure over sunscreen.”

You were grateful for your sunglasses– no one could see your eyes fluttering at his words. Your back straightens, knees kissing once more, hands folded in your lap. “Good girl,” his voice is still too low for anyone else to hear, if anyone was paying attention. It probably seemed like Yunho was just being friendly, helpful, putting sunscreen on your hard to reach places. 

It didn’t look like that at all to Jongho and Yeosang, sunglasses shading their eyes as they scooped sand onto Wooyoung’s body, hands going motionless with each curve of Yunho’s fingers on your skin. 

“Are you seeing this too?” Jongho asked the older man, eyebrows furrowed, his voice laced with confusion.

Yeosang nods, “And Mingi’s just watching. I’d lose my shit if you touched Tzuyu like that.”

“I’d fucking kill you if you looked at Jihyo like that,” Jongho agrees. Their eyes linger, watching how Yunho leans in close to your ear, how your back straightens, body locking all over again. 

Wooyoung’s head peeks up from the sand, “What am I missing?” 

“Do you think she’s cheating on Mingi?” Yeosang asks, sitting back on his heels. 

“What?” Wooyoung sits up straight, the layer of wet sand on top of him cracking and falling in chunks onto his lap. The two other men groaned, knowing they were going to have to put it back on him in a moment's time. 

Jongho shakes his head, “Mingi’s watching, no way she’d cheat, and no way Yunho would do that to him. Plus, he's never been territorial.”

Wooyoung’s neck stretches forward like he was squinting to see beneath his sunglasses. “Mingi doesn’t care if you flirt, I think giving her a back massage in front of the entire group is different.” His head tilts to the side. “But yeah, he really is just watching. Huh.”

“Interesting,” Yeosang’s lips scrunch, but he brings his head of red hair back to Wooyoung. “Lay down and let us restart, dumbass.”

After getting a slew of pictures of Wooyoung’s bronzed body buried beneath the sand, a mermaid tail packed over his legs, fake abs drawn onto his abdomen, the still-giggling men came back over to the group, covered in sand head to toe. 

Wooyoung ran a hand through his hair, shooting back a mouthful from his can, “Anyone wanna go swimming?”

Jongho and Yeosang were behind him, sweaty and beautiful, sand on their exposed bodies like a second layer of skin. You blinked at them, silent, because you didn’t wanna swim, part of you was scared that if you stood, someone would notice the patch of wetness on your bikini bottoms, despite them being black. Your fear held no bounds, no logic, but it was enough for you not to move a muscle. 

Mingi leaned into Yunho, whispering something in his ear. 

“Can I go?” Too low for your ears to catch, Mingi gave Yunho puppy eyes from below his shades, his voice sweet as candy. 

Yunho gave him a short nod, forgoing a rule for Mingi’s appropriate execution of another, your boyfriend hopped up, a smile on his face, following behind his friends down to the shore. His dimpled lower back above the green shorts, how they scrunched around his thighs, the muscles in his shoulders too defined as he jogged away, fuck. You felt like an animal. A perverted, sex-crazed freak with the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him, how your toes dug into the towel beneath you. 

You laid on your back instead, trying to rid your mind of the thoughts, of the expectations over your head. Taking a deep breath to ground yourself, to stop being so fucking horny on the blazing beach with all your friends around you. 

Yunho’s empty can pressed against your arm. 

You turned your head to see his jaw in a steady line, his brows raised. Shit. You stood up, walking over to the cooler in three steps, grabbing him another drink. You opened it for him, he thanked you as you handed it to him, you smiled as you took the empty one. 

Even doing something this small, this insignificant, had goosebumps raising on your body. Doing it for him.  

Yunho was facing you when you got back to your towel, laying back again, hands laying at your sides. His voice was quiet, soft in a way that meant he was just checking in, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you answer in a smooth breath. 

“Give me something better than that,” he frowns, voice lowering in volume, “I don’t want to ask you to throw a color all day, if I ask you how you’re feeling, give me words. Tell me what you’re feeling.” 

You sit up on your elbows, sunglasses sliding down to the bridge of your nose. The first word that comes to mind, “Stimulated.” You smile, head tilting, “Hot, a little frustrated. Mostly eager.” 

He smiles, “That’s good, right where I want you.” He leans back on his own elbows, his can buried in the sand beside him, between you. “Sometimes I think you were meant for this, y’know. You take structure well, you perform easily with it.” 

“That’s because I enjoy it,” you respond, words coming easily, the alcohol making your lips loose. “More than I’m supposed to, I think. I like it the other way around too, sometimes.”

He quiets, watching Mingi out on the water. “You both switch. I wonder what I’ll do with you both sometimes.” 

Your lip curls in gratitude as you lean your head towards him. “You’ve changed since spending time with us too, you know. Maybe you don’t need to do anything, maybe the three of us are fine how we are.” 

He turns his head tight, but doesn’t say anything. You stare through your shades, holding your ground, hoping he feels what you said, and doesn’t cower in fear because what you have is real. He jerks his head to the towel next to him, voice unyielding once again, “Over here.” 

You push yourself up without a word, cleaning off your towel before you grab your drink and move to Mingi’s towel, laying back down, all without question or hesitation. Yunho smiles, pride etched into the curve of his lips, “Good.” 

The praise sets you ablaze all over again. 

When Mingi returns, water dripping down his body, dark hair pushed back by his fingers, Yunho already had a towel in hand. Up by the umbrella, you watched with your head tilted back as Yunho ordered him over by just a nod of his head. 

“Water feels so good,” he beamed, sandy feet walking between your towels, shedding droplets of water from his swim shorts as he walked past. He didn’t even notice you’d switched spots, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. 

He reached a hand out to grab the towel from Yunho’s grip, but the older man shook his head, “I got it.” 

Mingi stood dumbfounded for a moment, but turned around to face the three boys’ gaze who walked up from the water, also dripping saltwater, coated in sunshine. You were sure Mingi’s skin was burning as Yunho dried him off, slowly wiping the towel across his wet skin, on his hair. You bit your cheek. For someone who didn’t want anyone to know, he wasn’t exactly being discreet, but you supposed no one noticed Yunho at the going away party, either. 

“They’re so weird,” Sana mumbled under her breath, on her stomach, elbows holding the weight of her upper body. She dipped her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose, watching Mingi and Yunho across the sand. 

Jihyo and Tzuyu turned over on their towels, looking at Sana to see where her eyes were locked, then focusing in on the scene before them. 

Tzuyu smiled, “Yunho’s so sweet, it must be nice for them to be so close.” 

Jihyo squinted. The way Yunho’s hands dragged up Mingi’s body, his fingers curled over Mingi’s shoulder, how he leaned in to say something in his ear. She had a feeling since that morning, catching Yunho in your apartment, but brushed it off because you wouldn’t lie about something like that. Especially not to her. She would never judge you for having a threesome. 

But Mingi’s head dipped down, eyes on his own crotch, mumbling a few words in response, and Jihyo’s lip curled. There’s no fucking way. She turned her head, “I caught Yunho at their apartment, you know.” 

Sana and Tzuyu’s heads snapped to Jihyo, eyebrows raised, silently saying continue. Jihyo sighed, “Yunho was shirtless, towel on his waist, he had just gotten out of the shower. In their living room. Mingi had on boxers, she looked just-fucked. They said he was only there to shower because he had no water.” 

“Doesn’t he live right around the corner from Joong and Hwa?” Sana asked. “If he didn’t have any water, why didn’t he just go there for a quick shower instead of traveling across the damn country?” 

“They’re close,” Tzuyu leaned in, forever devil's advocate. “Would you go to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s for a shower if Ji was home?” 

“First of all, girls are different,” Sana shook her head. “Also, yes. They have a waterfall shower, and those jets in the walls for your body, plus Seonghwa uses that really good body wash from—”

“Exactly!” Jihyo cuts in. “Literally exactly my point. There’s something going on there, right? I’m not crazy?” 

“Definitely not crazy,” Sana shook her head again. “Remember how Yunho snapped at me last night, too? When has he ever done something like that?” 

“Maybe he was tired,” Tzuyu’s voice was small, like she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her own mouth. “I don’t know girls… They've been together forever. Do you really think Yunho would be involved with them… intimately?”

Jihyo shakes her head, lips scrunched, disappointed that you’d keep something so important from her. She even insinuated it, and you said no. “Who knows what goes on with them anymore. It’s not like we get any details.” 

Yunho is more than pleased when Mingi cleans off the left side towel for Yunho, then the center one for himself, after Yunho nodded his head in silent direction, instruction in his body language only. 

You were buzzing. You were both following instruction cleanly, discreetly, you were passing with flying fucking colors, you wondered if your ability to obey made him any more inclined to be your boyfriend. Your boyfriend’s boyfriend. You wish you could be inside his brain so desperately. 

Yunho stood, brushing the sand off his multicolored, patterned shorts, throwing his sunglasses back on the towel. You sat up involuntarily, knowing if he moved, you moved with him. 

He didn’t look back as he started for the shore. You stood, Mingi following, within arm’s reach as you flanked him down the beach, to the water. None of you knew you had eyes on you the entire time. Or that Wooyoung approached San the moment you walked away. 

You minded your surroundings as you breached the shore, no sign of Hongjoong or Seonghwa, they must be on a walk, or back at the house. You’ve been so laser focused on Yunho and Mingi you almost forgot everyone else was there. 

“Min said the water’s nice,” Yunho looked to you, then over to Mingi on his other side, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Wanna swim?” 

You nodded, even if you didn’t have a choice. You wondered where the line stood with things like this, if you didn’t want to swim, if the urge to obey wasn’t so heavy. Would you be punished? For something measly like swimming? 

Ice wraps around your ankles, your calves, your body shaking, hissing the deeper you went into the sea. Mingi and Yunho dove in, completely unaffected, fully submerged by the time you got up to your hips. “Fuck, it’s cold, fuck,” you had your arms tucked tight to your chest, slowly wading deeper into the water while they swam a few feet out, laying under the sun for hours would have made the warmest water freezing. 

“How the hell are you guys so deep?” You yell across the waves that crashed against your abdomen, water reaching your belly button. “It’s fucking cold.” 

“Don’t be a baby,” Mingi teased, grinning, hair melted around his face, flat against the curves of his cheekbones. 

“And watch your mouth,” Yunho added, also teasing, smiling, on his back as he floated in the water. You scoffed, then faced the water before you, you’d have to rip the bandaid off if you were ever gonna be comfortable in the water. 

“Just go underwater, baby,” Mingi called again. “You can do it. I believe in you.” 

You scowled, eyes pointed, jaw locked. “It’s too fucking cold.” 

Yunho’s smile widens, listening to your complaints, drinking them all in. You hissed again, dipping your fingers into the sea, up to your forearms, legs pushing against the moving water to get deeper. Up to your waist, below the tie of your bikini top, you finally said fuck it and sank beneath the surface. 

Holding your nose, you gasped when you came back out to the salty air colder, ice consuming you head to toe. The two men just feet away cheered. 

“Come here, baby, swim over,” Mingi called out, ushering you over with one hand. Breathless from the cold, you wiped the saltwater out of your eyes, blinking through the sting as you swam closer to them. Clinging onto your boyfriend’s front for life, he tucked one arm under your ass as you moved his hair out of his face. He smiled proudly, eyes bronzy beneath the sun, “It’s nice, right?” 

You still shivered in his hold, but smiled playfully, he’s so handsome it hurts. “Fuck, fuck you.” 

“Curse again,” Yunho taunts from a foot away, swimming closer, affection in his voice. His eyes go over your head, scanning the beach behind you, before they land back on you, just as icy as the water. “See what happens.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whine, “it’s cold.” 

“I’m in the water with you, quit whining,” he muses, coming closer. “I’ll give you something to whine about. Is that what you want?” 

Arousal licks up your spine, you twitch in Mingi’s hold, but you shake your head. Yunho’s head tilts, “You sure, baby? You’ve been fidgeting all day, bet you’re feeling empty by now, aren’t you?” 

You’ve been doing so good. Keeping up with his rules, being obedient, focused, you didn’t think your arousal was noticeable at all. You shake your head again even if Mingi could feel your thighs clench, “No. No, I’m fine.” 

Yunho’s hands tug on your hips below the water, turning you until your back is pressed against Mingi’s chest, slotting himself between your floating legs. Mingi keeps his hands on your waist as your breath goes shaky, eyes widening, “Y-Yunho they can see—”

“Mingi is blocking us, they can’t see this far out,” Yunho cuts you off. “This body is mine. You don’t get to question me, you don’t get to worry. That’s my job.”

Even in the water, being held up by your boyfriend, he still feels so fucking big in front of you. You swallow, looking up at him through lashes coated in saltwater, voice as small as you felt, “O-okay.”

“You take what I give you, when I choose to give it,” he tilts his head, hands sliding down your thighs, thumbs curling into your plush skin, feeling so soft beneath the water. “Understood?” 

“Yes, sir,” you nod, and he grins. Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, hands sliding up your hips, up to your waist, over Mingi’s hands. He breaks away just to press a kiss to Mingi’s lips, too. 

Your heart is racing in your chest. Intimidation, adrenaline, the press of cold surrounding you, concern about someone seeing you. 

He leans back, keeping himself close. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” 

“Horny,” you blurt and he laughs. You shake your head, smile on your face, “Overwhelmed.”

His eyes look up to Mingi behind you, who responds, “Also horny. Stretched thin.” 

“Color?”

“Green,” you and Mingi respond simultaneously without missing a beat. 

“Don’t be scared,” Yunho shakes his head, grabbing your wrists lightly, sliding them onto his abdomen. “Do you trust me?” 

You nod, “Yes, sir.” 

His eyes jump to Mingi who didn’t realize Yunho was talking to him too, in a rush he responds, “Yes, sir.” 

“Then make me cum.” 

Mingi keeps a knee beneath you as his hands race to Yunho’s waistband, reaching in to feel Yunho’s cock that wasn’t even hard. Mingi looks up at Yunho who smiles, “The water’s real cold.” 

At the shoreline, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had almost returned from their walk, fingers interlocked, legs moving at the same pace, mirroring each other’s movements. A mile down the beach, a mile back, the sun was warm, the water cooled them down, they loved everything about the beach. They’d get married on the beach, one day, soon. 

Standing in the shallow water, arms stretched by how Seonghwa kicks about the waves and sand, Hongjoong stops him. “Baby, Hwa.” Seonghwa looks up, his attention grabbed, Hongjoong’s chin dips in the direction of the sea, a little ways out from where they stood, “Is that Yunho out there with them?”

Seonghwa puts a hand atop his eyes, shielding his vision, squinting beneath his glasses. “I think so. Maybe they stopped fighting.” 

A theory the two had going from the time you’ve spent at San’s beach house so far, one they discussed before going to bed last night, a silly question from Hongjoong’s mouth that Seonghwa couldn’t believe he caught on to, too. From your reactions when choosing rooms to the bonfire yesterday to breakfast this morning, Hongjoong and Seonghwa have been keeping an eye on you three, reading your body language, your interactions. 

“Oh shit,” Hongjoong’s jaw dropped when Yunho leaned in to kiss you. “Oh shit,” he smacked Seonghwa’s arm when Yunho kissed Mingi, too. 

“What? What did you see?” Seonghwa is leaning in, bending forward, fidgeting where he stood, angling his head around to see. 

“They kissed, Hwa,” Hongjoong is whispering, his voice coated in sheer disbelief, “they fucking kissed!” 

“Who kissed?” Seonghwa raises himself on his tippy toes as if he wasn’t already taller than his boyfriend who could see clearly, “Joong! Who kissed?” 

“Yunho kissed both of them,” Hongjoong’s hand moved to Seonghwa’s forearm, “Holy shit.” 

“Holy shit,” Seonghwa whispers, a small mumble, his eyes widening beneath his sunglasses. “No- no, what are they doing now?” 

Hongjoong breaks out in a wide grin, before a disbelieving laugh punches through his lips. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. In public? In ocean water? People pee in there. Fish pee in there.” 

“I feel like we’re intruding,” Seonghwa shakes his head, turning away. “We’re definitely not supposed to see this. We shouldn’t watch. This is an invasion of privacy.” 

“They’re hooking up on the beach! They’re lucky there’s no one else out here.” 

“This section is private,” Seonghwa turns away fully. “San owns it, or something like that, I don’t know how it works. Plus, we can’t see what’s happening under the water, they could be—”

“You mean to tell me they aren’t jerking him off right now?” Hongjoong’s orange brows bend over the frame of his sunglasses, his smile completely amused. 

Seonghwa cringes, but turns around again to meet Hongjoong’s grinning cheeks. He looks out in the water, studying, frowning, “I don’t know if she’s doing anything. It might just be Mingi and Yunho.” 

“Okay, but still,” Hongjoong smacks his teeth. “They’re seconds away from fucking in the ocean. Am I wrong?” 

Seonghwa’s lips flatten, “Don’t say anything. They didn’t seem okay yesterday and today they’re inseparable, so clearly they’re figuring something out, and keeping it private.”

Hongjoong pouts, “Boo.” 

Seonghwa smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, “Do the right thing, my love.” 

“You’re right,” Hongjoong sighs, looking out in the water again. "That's so juicy, though. In the middle of the ocean for anyone to see is crazy.” 

You feel dizzy on your walk back up. Frustration curls low in your gut, a pestering weed left alone for too long, growing at a rapid pace through your veins, into your limbs, your chest. You needed to get off. Your composure was running scarily thin. 

“Can I go to the bathroom when we get back up?” You ask Yunho, fingers laced with Mingi’s, both walking behind him, you on his left side, Mingi on his right. 

“Are you gonna touch yourself?” He looks over his shoulder, brows raised. 

You shake your head, “No, sir. Just need to pee.” 

He nods, small, but permission-granting. 

You didn’t say anything to anyone as you walked past the group, up to the house, to the outhouse tucked into the side of the property. It was more like a shack, no roof, thin bamboo walls to separate the toilet from the shower, nothing was enclosed except for the main door which was latched shut. 

You eased a breath as you put the black steel hook through the matching loop, running your hands through your hair, eyes squeezing shut while the throbbing between your thighs becomes too much to bear in the silence of the bathroom. 

Just for cursing.  Just for complaining about the water being cold. 

He’s mean. He’s so fucking mean. You asked for this, he reminded you three times, but the words that left his mouth, so degrading, so teasing, all while being passed between them like a fucking doll. All while neither of them touched you. That was almost worse than having your orgasm ripped from you this morning, watching, listening to them pleasure each other, while being on the sidelines but also right fucking between them, you don’t know if you can do it. 

You don’t know if you can take him like this. Mean, arrogant, purposely denying you pleasure because you haven’t earned it yet. You’ve been good all day. You deserve it.

You sit on the toilet with furrowed brows, knees kissing, toes touching the wood beneath you. Your clit cries for attention, throbbing, buzzing, there’s a streak of wetness in your bikini bottoms that was too fucking slick to be washed away by the ocean. Your body feels tight, wound-up, aching for attention. 

You could probably get away with it if you touched yourself. He’s not in the bathroom with you, he’s down at the shore with Mingi, with your friends, he’d never know.  Your thighs clench at the thought, it wouldn’t even take long. You could probably get off in thirty seconds. Your jaw clenches, fingers curling to fists on top of your thighs. Don’t do it, your subconscious screamed at you. He’ll know. 

You swallowed, taking a deep, grounding breath. Your need to obey, to please him, outweighed the ache. At least that’s what you told yourself while you wiped. You opened the latch after washing your hands to be met with Yunho standing outside the door. You jumped, a gasp leaving your lips, “Shit, you scared me.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

You stared at him dumbfounded before the instinct kicked in. He pulled your fingers to his nose as soon as you lifted your palm, sniffing deeply. Just his fucking touch made your thighs clench. 

“You didn’t touch yourself,” he says it like he’s surprised. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No, sir.” 

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, moving to push past you and you want to scream. He’s even denying you a kiss to your fucking lips?!

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whisper. 

He leans back, brows furrowed. “Can’t do what?”

“I need you to touch me,” your voice cracks on touch. “I need you to kiss me, I need you to fix whatever is happening to me right now. I’m gonna freak the fuck out.” 

His eyes thin, jaw settling and god you want to sit on his face. “You don’t need anything.” 

“Yunho,” you fall forward, forehead pressing against his still-wet chest, hands landing on his hips, the soft skin just above his swim shorts. “I need you. I can’t take it anymore.” 

His neck cranes side to side, a heavy sigh pushing through his lips, his hand landing on top of your hair, fingers massaging at your scalp. “I’m teaching you submission,” he says into your hair, his voice steady. “It’s what you asked for. This is what it would be like. You can say red if you want to stop.”

Red feels like giving up, failing the test. You’re frustrated, but not enough to say the three lettered word that would end it all. You’re wound tight, clit still throbbing for attention, but the need to impress him aches worse. 

You stare at him blankly, saying nothing. His lips curve, standing back a step. “You have your answer then.”

“Wait,” you interject, pleading with your hands on his chest. “Why did Mingi get to cum, then? How is he any more well-behaved than I am?”

“You didn’t follow the rules,” he shrugs, answering plainly. “I don’t have to give you a reason, if I don’t want you to cum, then you don’t cum. Your body is mine to do as I see fit.”

“I can’t,” you whine, hands going into your roots, frustrated. You don’t even know what was going to follow the two words, what’s left to say after that. 

“Stop whining,” he bites. “It’s ugly, and you’re not ugly.” 

Your bottom lip quivers, leaning into him, hiding your frustrated face. “I’ve been good.”

“And that’s ending now, I guess.”  “Yunho.”

“Are you acting like this because you want to get punished?” Two hands on your cheeks, he pulls you away from his chest, forcing you to look up at him. “Purposely whining to piss me off, even when I gave you clear, concise instructions for the day?”

You shake your head, ears tipping with heat. You can feel the heat everywhere. Shame, arousal, they blend together with the need to appease him, to impress him, you’re fighting against your own instincts.

“Then listen,” he snaps. “That’s the last time I’m going to say it.”

Jongin sees you as he leaves the house. He grabbed his keys from the rack in the kitchen after the group decided to go out for an early dinner, a place that served bar-food just down the street. You, standing with your head in Yunho’s chest, until he grabs you by your cheeks and tilts your head backward, talking to you… sternly? He stays pocketed behind the tall pampas grass, watching through leaves, his heart picking up in his chest. Is he catching something he isn’t supposed to?

Somehow, he moves far enough to where neither of you see him, and makes his way back down to the beach. He has to tell San, he has to tell Mingi– should he even get involved? Considering what Wooyoung told him and San earlier, there’s a chance Mingi is in on it, too. 

“Got our keys,” he smiled briefly at San. “We should wait until they get back.” 

San lifts a brow, “Did you see them? Any treachery?” 

Jongin shakes his head quickly, not exactly sure why his gut tells him to lie. “I saw him inside, she was outside. No treachery to be seen.” 

San’s lift lips in distaste. “Boring.” 

Jongin feels bad lying to his boyfriend of three years, the man who changed everything about himself for Jongin, the yin to his yang. But this felt out of his control, a little too heavy for the friend group to be throwing around so easily, it's more than gossip. You, Mingi, you’ve been together for so long… longer than he’s known San. From what he’s learned, you’ve been together longer than any of the couples here. 

Except for Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Maybe. He’d have to ask San for clarification on that one. 

It wasn’t long until you and Yunho were bouncing back down the beach, wide grins on your faces and damn, his conscience feels heavy after lying. You bend down to press a kiss on Mingi’s lips and the way he grins with stars in his eyes tells Jongin enough. He’d keep his mouth closed for now. But if you and Yunho were any more obvious, if you take another risk— maybe someone else wouldn’t be as nice. 

There’s bamboo everywhere. Sand under your feet, surf boards lining the baby blue, wooden walls, the roof coated in thatch, the tiki bar–cafe-restaraunt whatever the fuck was the pinnacle of everything Haos claims to be. An escape, another world, somewhere the wealthy pride themselves in vacationing, it reminded you to breathe. To enjoy everything around you, your friends’ laughter, how the sun just beginning to sink was now far less brutal, the way Mingi and Yunho both had a claiming hand on either one of your thighs under the long, wooden picnic table. 

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” with one hand on either of your shoulders, Yunho walked in the center of you and Mingi in the parking lot, one step behind you after you climbed out of Jongin’s Jeep. 

You were still playing. Stomach still churning, body still wound tight, you wished you could force yourself to believe that you wouldn’t explode if someone didn’t touch you soon. Still embarrassed over your outburst earlier, not being able to handle what you asked of him, most of you was glad he didn’t give in– even if arousal kept your body temperature heated to a low-grade fever.

Mingi, free as a bird, was giggling to himself at something Wooyoung said across from you, his face sunkissed, his forehead, the tip of his nose, like the sun shone down on Mingi alone. Maybe it did, your irresistible boyfriend with a heart of gold, you wouldn’t be surprised if the sun woke up every morning hoping just to see him. The sound was music to your ears, you leaned your head on his shoulder, hands holding onto the small, laminated menu. 

You flexed your thighs, I missed you guys.  The answering squeezes to your skin told you they missed you just as much. 

“Today went by too fast,” San shook his head of messy black hair to the left of Mingi, it was a rare sight to see him unkempt. San was always dressed to the nines, hair gelled back, face chiseled, the face of masculinity. Seeing him with pink cheeks and an affectionate grin made your heart swarm with affection, you loved it most when the group left business behind and lived in the moment instead. “I need to have you guys here more often.”

“Invite us then,” Wooyoung teased back, still shirtless, sitting on the end of the table across from Yunho. Skin bronzed and glowing, he reminded you of some kind of Greek God, like him and summer had a contract. “We’ll come when you call.”

Jongho leaned forward, his flower-patterned shirt unbuttoned and dragging along the picnic table, his dark hair messily sprawled across his forehead, sunglasses still sitting over his eyes. “Says the one who lives three states away.”

Wooyoung laughs, leaning forward, looking to his right to see Jongho almost at the other end of the table, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“At the risk of being fired, I’m sure,” Hongjoong smirks, the only person to his right Seonghwa, who held the end of the table. The pair still had their matching hats on, sunglasses resting above the brim, the only two whose faces were unaffected by the sun’s rays. Maybe you should all invest in hats, the sun was inescapable in Haos. 

Yunho leans in, eyes dancing between each speaker, “Are you gonna get fired?”

Wooyoung shakes his head with his face scrunched like his company wouldn’t dream of firing him. Sana’s dark eyebrows raised, glossed lips falling in a line like he wasn’t telling the whole truth, the sight made a snort fall from your nose. When Wooyoung noticed, he nudged her side, scoffing, “You know they won’t fire me, they need me. You’re supposed to be on my side, Sana.”

You lean back with a laugh, hand covering your mouth, so stupid it was funny. You missed him so much, and if the possibility of Wooyoung getting fired was any indication, you think he missed you guys just as much. 

“We should take pictures after dinner, at sunset on the beach,” Tzuyu chimes in, sitting in her crochet cover up between Yeosang and Jongin at the end of the table on your side. “No dressing up, just in our bathing suits with some drinks, candid style.”

Jihyo and Sana agree, nodding, sitting next to each other like two peas in a pod. “We should get couples shots, too,” Jihyo adds, dark hair waved by saltwater covering her bikini top, “Jongho and I haven’t taken a proper picture together in so long.”

“Woo and I need pictures for our holiday cards,” Sana agrees, nodding, already leaning into Jihyo. Wooyoung, with his sunglasses pushing his hair off his face, silently groans from beside her. You giggle at his face, stealing Sana’s attention. 

Before she could open her mouth, San leaned forward, talking across you and Mingi, “Yun, we need to get you a girlfriend so you can be involved, too.”

You stop laughing immediately like San had reached over and stolen the smile from your face. You blink as Yunho’s hand jumps from your thigh, your body stiffening, trying not to let your eyes widen, to show surprise or discomfort on your face while a sharp pang of something sour hits your chest. 

“We could ask a random girl from the bar to pretend,” Wooyoung snickers, eyes locked with San’s.

Jongho laughs, a high-pitched, amused sound, “We’d have to pry him away from those two first.”

Yours and Mingi’s attention jumps to Jongho, who eyes you both, mischief in his eyes. Yeosang, with his elbow on the table, props his chin on his cheek, staring down at Yunho, asks, “What happened to that girl from Woo’s going away party?” 

Yunho shakes his head of chocolate locks inflated by humidity. Voice clear like he wasn’t bothered at all, he answers, “Just didn’t work out.”

Your body is on fire. So badly you wanted to tell them all to stop speaking about the past, to not bring up a future that isn’t centered around yourself and Mingi. Yunho is yours. 

“Are you okay?” You pick your head up to Jihyo who was eyeing you carefully, eyes pointed, jaw set. “You look sunburnt.”

You shake your head, forcing an easy smile on your face, “I’m fine, probably am sunburnt.”

“How? Yunho put sunscreen on you, like, four times,” San wore a slimy grin, the table erupting with laughter. 

“It was once,” you counter, eyes narrowed, tone biting. “And I can’t reach my back.”

“You’re quiet, Mingi,” Wooyoung interrupts, and Mingi’s eyes pick up, wide and doe-like. 

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, brows furrowing, head tilting like Wooyoung said something stupid. You smile. Yunho puts his hand back on your thigh. 

Like a saving grace, the waiter finally approaches your table, breaking your conversation to ask for your order. Yunho orders for you, then for Mingi, exactly what both of you would have chosen if you’d ordered for yourself. You felt eyes on you as Yunho finished, but you didn’t dare meet a single person’s stare. You didn’t want to know what their eyes would tell you. 

You didn’t have to guess, not when San spoke after the waiter left your table, his voice a blanket over one end of the table to the other. “Am I crazy? Is anyone else seeing this, or is it just me?”

The three of your heads pick up in a line. The table is quiet, the only thing you can hear is the reggae music, soft from the speakers, dissipating into the summer breeze. Low, far but close, it melts into the sound of waves, offsetting how thick the tension had become at the table. 

San’s face bulges out, bewildered, “No one’s gonna say anything?” He turns to you three and your heart falls into your ass. “Are you three together?” You swallow the bile in your throat. “Are you fucking?”

“No,” Yunho’s answer comes before your lips could part. The word is rigid, a wall, a finality. You look at Mingi who’s already looking at Yunho, his eyes so big, so round, you can hear your heartbeat over the music, the breeze, the waves. No. 

Yunho even laughs a little. “Come on, are you serious?”

You glance at Jihyo who’s already looking at you like she knows everything. Like your skin was transparent, and she could see your heart cracking beneath your ribs all over again. 

“You’ve been joined at the hip all day,” Wooyoung’s grin is feline, like he wasn’t done prying for information. “Can’t blame our minds for going there, can you?”

You and Mingi don’t smile, don’t laugh. You can’t pretend. Yunho takes a sip of his drink, “They’ve been together for years, you know we’re close. It’s weird that your mind would go there.” 

Weird. It’s weird. He’s not yours at all. You feel like ice under the summer sun, melting too quickly, soon you’ll be a puddle darkening the sand beneath you if you don’t remove yourself from the situation. You refuse to let any of them see you upset. You hate that a part of you doesn’t want them to know if Yunho doesn’t want them to know.

You look at Mingi, I’m going to the bathroom. 

He nods once, eyes glossy, you wish you could bring him with you. Pushing yourself up with your palms on the table, you swing a leg over the bench and don’t look back, don’t listen to a single word as you nearly run to the bathroom. Your skin is on fire, there’s no air conditioning in the small two-stall bathroom with baby blue walls, it’s suffocating. 

You stand at the sink, throwing cold water on your face, two hands hooked around the white ceramic to force yourself to calm the fuck down. What was last night for? What did you talk about all of that shit for? What did you fuck for? Now you feel fucking stupid for today, for thinking you’d pass a test he was never proctoring. It all felt redundant. Pointless. 

The door swings open, you don’t move. “Are you okay?”

Jihyo, smiling softly, apologetically. Your lips tighten, you refuse to let tears fall. You refuse to repeat what happened last time. You should have expected this. 

“All good,” you force a smile. “I think I got too much sun today.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” she leans in the middle of the two sinks, shoulder pressed to the wall between the mirrors, one manicured hand on your forearm. “Did he lie?”

You huff amusement, it lacks any semblance of warmth. “Yeah, he lied.”

“Fucking asshole,” she crosses her arms. “What’s with him and commitment? That day I came over, I knew it, I knew what he was there for.”

All you can do is shake your head, “I don’t know, Ji.”

“How long has it been?”

You hum before answering. “A month? Five weeks maybe?”

“Damn,” she shakes her head. “The way he looks at you… I don’t understand him. I don’t understand the denial.”

You give her another weak smile. “Don’t tell the others. Please.”

“I won’t,” she scrunches her lips to one side. “You still have Mingi, though. And Mingi has you.”

“Thank god for that, right?” Your smile is only half-fake now, moving away from the sink, pressing your back against one of the stalls. “Although I think he’ll be more upset than I am.”

“He was holding it together out there,” Jihyo shifts to lean her butt against the sink, head tilting. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the start?”

You shrug, lips flat. “It was instinctive, we hadn’t talked about it yet. After you left that day he freaked out, we fought, we only worked that situation out last night.”

“He said you’d tell people?”

You tilt your head, showing your bottom row of teeth, “Not exactly. More so that we’re more comfortable being in a gray area now, our feelings out on the table, working towards something. We weren’t expecting anyone to call us on it.”

“They’re such assholes for airing out your business,” she pushes herself off the sink, taking two steps toward you to throw her arms over your shoulders, tucking you into a hug. “I’m sorry, you guys will figure it out.”

You let your eyes close, sucking as much comfort as you can from the hug, “I hope so. Thanks, Ji.”

She pulls away to cup your cheeks, “You know you can talk to me, right? Let me in, I can be a shoulder to cry on.”

You nod, fingers wrapping around her wrists, “I will.”

The rest of dinner was damn near silent. Yunho was in your head with apologies, none you answered, you didn’t want to talk to him or hear him out. Mingi answered once or twice, short responses, it was clear the two of you were hurt and needed time to reset your feelings again. You didn’t want to argue, or settle your feelings in the bedroom again, you’d done that already. It clearly didn’t work. Pictures on the beach were swift, yours and Mingi’s were all fake smiles and silence, watching the live photos in your camera roll made your skin crawl. You don’t think you or Mingi said five words between dinner and bedtime, until it was the three of you in your bedroom again. 

Yunho actually had the audacity to pull down the comforter. You stopped him with your palm splayed flat on the right side of the mattress, voice monotonous and bored, but your eyes shot daggers. “You can sleep downstairs.”

His brows raised, “Are you serious?”

You settled deeper beneath the comforter, Mingi still throwing on clothes after his shower. You hold his eye, “It’s weird that you’d try sleeping in our bed.”

His hands fall to his sides, all emotion wiped from his face. “I just said that so they would leave us alone.”

“You could have been honest,” you answer simply. “You could have laughed it off. You could have said anything other than it being weird, Yunho.” 

His face softens, “It wasn’t my intention to–”

“You don’t seem to have any intentions,” you cut him off. “You can sleep downstairs, like you were planning to last night.”

Lips bending, a slow nod, without another word he turns around, grabs a pillow and a blanket, and leaves your bedroom. Mingi, watching from the dresser, finally crawls into bed after Yunho closes the door behind him. 

You open your arms, welcoming him into your chest, fingers immediately scratching into his hair, pressing a kiss to his clean scalp that still smelled like seasalt, “You okay baby?”

“Tired,” he mumbles into your chest, voice deep and heavy. "Don't wanna do it anymore. Too confusing.”

“You wanna be done?” You pause, fingers stalling in his hair. He looks up at you, his eyes big and round, sad. You frown, one hand sliding down to graze his cheek. “We can be done.”

“I don’t want to,” his voice is so small, just barely above a whisper. “But I think it’s obvious we’ll end up being his secret forever. I don’t want to be a secret, I want him to be proud.”

“Me too,” you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m proud you’re my boyfriend, y’know.”

He smiles, “And I’m proud you’re my girlfriend.”

“That’s all we need,” you kiss him again, parting your lips for him, sinking farther down the mattress until he can roll on top of you, elbows bracketing your head. Throwing your arms around his neck, your legs over his thighs, you break the kiss to say, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiles into the kiss, body pressing into yours, and it’s the easy reminder that you’ll always have him, no matter what, that eases weight off your chest. 

It’s easy to pretend everything is okay when you lean into the reminder that Mingi will be by your side forever. It’s stuck with you since seven in the morning, when San abruptly woke up the house cracking a wooden spoon against a pot, screaming activities day over and over. He popped into your room with a wide grin, asked where Yunho was, and left your room as confused as he entered it.

Jet skiing, mini-golf, a barbecue, ending the night at Rêve, a reputable bar in town. San insisted that your last day should be filled with the best things Haos has to offer. Of course he left out the part that jet skiing was at the yacht club he was a member of, and that he owned shares at Rêve, making him part-owner; never humble until he was supposed to be, you wished he told you to be on your best behavior today. 

Not that your group would ever be on their best behavior. Wooyoung was already drinking by the time you went downstairs for breakfast, he made mimosas for everyone, you had two. The first you chugged after Yunho went upstairs immediately after you entered the kitchen, the second you chugged when he came back downstairs, shirtless, swim trunks painted onto his thighs. If you were going to be forced into activities with him all day, you should make it easier for yourself.

White buildings with terracotta roofing, there were too many buildings to count, a winding paved asphalt driveway up to the front where men in suits stood under a white awning, one approaching as San put his Bronco in park parallel to the main doors. It had valet. 

The yacht club was beautiful, massive, every nook and cranny of the main building screamed prestigious. All patrons you encountered were dressed up, some in sports wear for the golf course you could only assume is somewhere on the grounds, in long summer dresses or business-style suits, everyone seemed important. Everyone looked proper. Part of you felt out of place, with your group half-dressed in bathing suits and cover-ups like you were headed to the beach, but it didn’t last long when you got outside to where everything was docked.

Your mouth didn’t close once from the time you walked inside the heavy red doors all the way out to where he kept his jet skis docked, next to his boat, The Kai. Not a far walk, you realized, you assumed meant he was also a very important person here, too, the size of his boat only aided in the confirmation. 

He owned four jet skis, which meant four couples could ride at a time, leaving two couples and a Yunho out. Luckily he had a cooler fully stocked on his boat, one he and Jongin brought out to the dock while the first wave of people went out on the water. On the dock were Mingi, Jihyo, Jongho, and Yunho– of course, naturally. You sipped on a seltzer, sitting between Mingi and Jihyo, your feet dangling over the side, one arm behind you holding you up. 

Yunho sat on the other side of Jongho at the end and as much as you were grateful after you and Mingi threw in your white towels last night, it hurt that he wasn’t even trying. He didn’t even look at you, not once today, you think. At least when you got out on the water you and Mingi were smiling and laughing, he let you drive the jet ski, which he quickly regretted when he realized the watercraft turned you into an adrenaline junkie. 

Mini-golf was ten minutes from the yacht club, half of your group in San’s Bronco, the other half in Jongin’s Jeep. A standalone establishment that had a small course on the outside, an ice cream shop on the inside, and a small kitchen for bar-type food. The alcoholic bar itself was small, connected to the kitchen-half of the indoor space, but it didn’t stop your friend group from ordering a round of shots, cocktails, and beers for all. Even better, the tab at the bar plus admission for minigolf was all paid for by San. His treat, he said, and who were you to argue after seeing The Kai?

There were too many of you for one singular game, but the consensus amongst the group was that you wanted to play together. So instead of splitting your group in half to play two separate games, you played in pairs, and once again you and Mingi were thrown into a triplet, this one you didn’t agree to so easily. One shot down and a cocktail in your palm, no one could feel the tension between the three of you, the energy should be light at mini-golf. You mentally decide you’ll be civil. Maybe you’ll even try being friends. 

Mingi and Yunho both had beers in their hands, neither jumping for joy at the blue club you chose, it wasn’t the longest, and the two men you shared with were a hell of a lot taller than you. You stifled a laugh as Mingi uncomfortably hunched over the club as he lined up his feet, awkwardly swinging the club to hit the blue ball. 

“This game is fucked,” he stands up straight when the ball bounces off the back wall, missing the hole completely. The first hole is the easiest. 

You snort a laugh where you stand, watching his face morph into frustration, his brows knitting and lips parting like he couldn’t believe he missed. “You’ll get it next time,” you encourage, taking a sip of your cocktail. 

Hongjoong goes up next, he makes it in with one swing. Tzuyu goes next, she makes it in with one swing. Sana next, she makes it in with one swing. 

“This is fucking rigged,” Mingi curses, taking another sip from his beer. Yunho laughs under his breath as your arm comes up to rub his back encouragingly. 

“Don’t worry,” you coo. “Yunho and I will win for you.”

“I can play golf,” Mingi argues defensively. “The club is just short. Yunho won’t be able to do it, either.”

Jongho goes next, he makes it in with one swing. Mingi’s brows raise like he’s seconds away from losing his shit. Jongin next, he makes it in with one swing. Mingi’s fuck is loud enough for the children at hole thirteen to hear. 

“Don’t get us kicked out of minigolf, Min,” Wooyoung is still laughing, a hand clutching his belly. “We know you’re competitive, it’s just a kid’s game.”

“I know it’s a kid’s game,” Mingi bites, all in one breath, barely looking at the younger man as he says it. Your face is full of amusement when Wooyoung turns to you, brows raised in surprise. 

“Don’t ask me,” you shake your head. “I’m not his keeper. When it comes to games, he’s on his own.”

It’s your turn again, the blue ball alone on the green. You’ve played enough minigolf in your life for this to be muscle memory– childhood games at arcades, random birthday parties from school friends over the years. But it’s been a long, long time since you were a kid, too long since you’ve come close to a minigolf course. Your first swing, just a foot away from the hole, you miss. The group laughs and you roll your eyes, waving a hand, “I’m just warming up!”

“Oh, I’m sure!” Sana’s voice is dripping with sarcasm and your lips tighten. Feeling hotter now, you line up your feet, the club with the ball, and swing. 

You fucking miss.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you huff. “Someone hand me my drink, I need to be drunker if I’m gonna suck.”

Yunho’s laughing as he hands you your cocktail and you suck down half of it before lining your feet up all over again. You hit the ball this time, but it’s fueled by your rage, it bounces off the brick siding and onto the green of hole four right next door to hole one. You straighten, hand covering your mouth, eyes widening as your ball hits someone else’s ball that was currently playing hole four. 

“I’m sorry!” You call as the young kid, definitely not a day over the age of eight, throws the baby blue ball back onto the faded putting green. It’s as if it was in slow motion, how he threw the ball in a perfect arc for it to land flawlessly in the hole without as much as a singular bounce. You whip around to your friend group, eyes wide, “Does that count? Can that count? Jongin, count it.”

Your friend group sounds like a clan of hyenas, loud cackles, obnoxious laughter breaking out across twelve people because of how ridiculous that unfolded. 

“Are all three of you competitive?” Seonghwa asks, genuine, voice light and kind. 

You shrug as you walk off the green, “I’ve never really played sports, I don’t know.” Skipping over to Jongin who was keeping score, you brush up close to his sculpted arm, tone candy sweet, “So? Are we counting it or what?”

He makes a shh motion, one finger raised, smiling behind the purse of his lips. Your hand forms into a fist and you tuck it into your body with success, “Yes, hole in two, baby.”

Mingi and Yunho are snickering when you return to them, but it’s Yunho who mocks you, “Not competitive, my ass.”

“Hey,” you point a finger at him. “You can’t make fun of me, I’m pissed at you. I said I was gonna make up for Mingi’s shit swing.”

“Yours was even worse!” Mingi’s voice is high-pitched, still defensive. You’re all giggles when you lean into him, pressing a hand to his cheek to pull him down for a kiss. Beer and home, he tastes like half of you. 

You feel Yunho’s eyes, but you don’t stop, you don’t do anything to make him think it’s for him. Even if there’s the evil part of you that hopes he wants to rip his skin off his body, that he’s so enraged he sees red, you hope he doesn’t act on it. You hope he doesn’t act on anything ever again.

At hole two, Yunho surprises you both with how efficiently he makes the ball into the hole with only one swing, yours and Mingi’s jaws falling to the concrete. Yunho exudes everything smug on his return.

Smirk on his lips, rolling his shoulders, he says, “What? Like it’s hard?”

Your laugh is verbal disbelief, Mingi immediately quips, “Do not quote Legally Blonde right now.”

Yunho’s giggle is proud, his grin wide, his shoulders doing a little shake in celebration. So fucking cute you could rip out all your hair, you dig your head into Mingi’s chest to smell him, to rid yourself of feelings towards Yunho. Your forehead meets your boyfriend’s skin with a groan, “I need another drink.”

The third hole goes by quickly, efficiently, Mingi excited he got a hole in one, deservedly so. At hole four, you’re up again after a cocktail and a half, at least you’re at the starting line this time. You stare at the blue ball sitting on the green, eyes squinted, whispering, “Do not embarrass me. Okay?” 

“Are you talking to the ball?” San asks, humor laced in his tone. “I don’t think it’s gonna answer, girl.”

“I’m giving it a pep talk!” You snap your head to respond and then stare at the ball once more. You line up your feet, then the club with the ball, and swing. 

Your fuck is louder than Mingi’s was when you miss. You wave apologetically to the family of four that shoots daggers at you from across the course. 

“I can’t watch this,” Yeosang shakes his head as he approaches you. “You're legitimately killing me.”

Your face heats with embarrassment as he stalks up to you, determination in the crease of his brow. You pull all your hair to one side as he stands behind you, arms wrapping around you, hands dwarfing yours over the handle of the club. “Hold like this,” he explains, then kicks one foot between yours, spreading your legs farther, your knees bending. “Stand like that.”

Yunho, tensing beside Mingi, snaps his head to the side to get Mingi’s attention. “Hello?”

Mingi’s brows furrow when Yunho’s shoulder bumps him, his feet staggering. “What?”

“Look,” Yunho says, like it’s absurd Mingi just asked what. He can see the flex of Yeosang’s arms as he stretches them over your shoulders, the veins swimming along his forearms while his hands clasp over yours. It makes his jaw tick, his heartbeat quicken— you’re not Yeosang’s to touch. 

“He’s showing her how to play,” Mingi says casually, taking another sip of his beer, leaning towards Yunho like he was watching a sitcom instead of his girlfriend getting felt up by another man. 

Yunho’s head tilts, dumbfounded and semi-enraged that Mingi doesn’t feel a shred of the possession he does, his voice a harsh whisper, “Yeosang has had a thing for her since… since forever.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Mingi’s brows raise as he turns to his best friend, a disbelieving chuckle falling from his lips. “No he hasn’t. Tzuyu is right there.”

Yeosang kicks your feet apart and Yunho’s body jerks at the action. His foot inches forward, fingers grasping his beer a little harder like he was ready to pounce. Instead, he grits his teeth, “Have you ever watched Yeosang interact with her? Like ever? He’s basically told you to your face he thinks she’s sexy.”

“She is sexy,” Mingi shrugs, rolling his neck nonchalantly. “If I’m not pissed off then you shouldn’t be either. She’s not yours, she’s mine.”

Yunho’s neck snaps, meeting Mingi’s dead-serious stare. Stunned into silence, he shuts his mouth, drinks his beer, and lets it be. Just when Yunho thought they were getting somewhere, that maybe you wouldn’t be awkward all day, he’s surprised that Mingi’s the one who put him in his place. It’s worse when you return smiling, overflowing with excitement, asking Mingi if he saw your hole-in-one three times before throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. He feels sick, palms sweating, you weren’t doing this to get a rise out of him, you were leaning on each other because he was the one who fucked up. Again. 

The rest of mini-golf goes by in a blur. He doesn’t speak much, he doesn’t have anything to say, his mind is on a roll, trying to come up with any sort of plan to fix this. He needs to get you two alone, he needs to apologize, he needs to say something to get the two of you to stop looking at him like you don’t care about him because that in itself is so fucking terrifying he can feel his goddamn throat close another inch every time he notices. 

The drive home is quiet, wind in Yunho’s ears, he can’t even hear the soft music playing through the speakers, he didn’t care to. Out of the corner of his eye he watches you sink into Mingi in San’s backseat with the sun laying over your lap like a blanket, your eyes closed beneath your sunglasses like you didn’t have a care in the world. Like nothing was bothering you at all. 

He’s never let himself learn just how terrifying it could be to love someone who didn’t want him. Two people who didn’t fucking want him. 

“Who’s ready to BBQ?” Wooyoung shouts from the passenger seat of Jongin’s Jeep, emphasizing the acronym, basically hanging halfway over the door while grinning wide enough to showcase each and every one of his bone-colored teeth. You’d just pulled into San’s driveway, finally back at home to barbecue, to fill your stomachs with a good, hearty meal before you were back on the streets for Haos’ nightlife. 

Everyone piled out of the cars quickly, heading inside just for the men to immediately split off into the kitchen to start prepping the grill. You watch as they gather around the kitchen island, shouting orders and ideas about cooking of all things until Tzuyu bumps your hip with her own at the base of the staircase, stealing your attention.

Pulling her hair tie from her bun, she lets it fall behind her in loose waves, scratching her fingers through her roots, “I guess the man-grill thing is genetic. Or built-in, like a default setting.” 

“There’s nine of them,” you whisper. “How many does it take to man a grill?” 

“Nope, I’m out!” Hongjoong raises both his palms beside his head in defeat while he retreats from the kitchen. “You’re all insane, I’m showering and napping. Call me when dinner’s ready.”

“Eight,” you correct yourself, a grin growing on your cheeks, and Tzuyu laughs from beside you. 

Jihyo, her bag over her shoulder, enters the living room with Sana at her side, the two approaching you and Tzuyu with grins on their faces. Sana does a little shake of her hips, grin reading excitement, “Who’s ready to fuck up the club?”

“It’s a bar, I think,” Jihyo laughs, “but it’ll be nice for us all to go out and let loose.”

“We’ve done nothing but let loose all weekend,” Tzuyu furrows her brows.

“No.” you shake your head once. “We have not.”

“I brought face masks,” Sana’s fingertips dance together mischievously. “We should pre-game getting ready while they grill and shit.”

Out on the deck, Mingi stood over the grill in front of the railing, a pair of tongs in his hand while he flipped pieces of meat and seafood on the black, steel grates. The speaker inside played music through the screen door, everyone mindlessly humming and singing along while they set the table, chatter and laughter flowing through the chilly summer breeze that ruffled his hair. 

So many years these guys have been his friends, so many years Yunho has been his friend, he can’t believe it’s all gone to complete shit. This was his worst fear coming true, the lingering fear when all of this began, that he’d cross a line and lose Yunho. Yeah, they’d all still be friends, but his friendship with Yunho has always been different. Deeper. He can’t believe he’s losing it, right in front of his eyes.

He felt alive again that first night in Haos, back to normalcy, you three felt closer than before, just for it to be ruined all over again the next day. Each and every time he met Yunho’s eye today, he hated that those three words still sat in the hinge of his jaw, the back of his throat, begging to be spoken. He could tell it was the same for you, where your eyelids sat over your glazed pupils, a certain twinkle to them as you stared up at Yunho even if you tried to hide it. He knows what the words look like forming on your lips, how you tighten your smile to stop them from spilling out, he knows you like the back of his hand. 

He can’t believe you both love him and you can’t have him. 

“Almost done?” Mingi’s head snapped up to Yunho on his right side, his head peeking over Mingi’s shoulder, the heat of Yunho hotter than the grill. Speak of the devil.

Mingi nods, eyes sliding over his face. Big, brown eyes with clean cut brows giving them structure, cheekbones high and sculpted, lips a pretty, pale pink heart. He wishes there was no one else on the deck, he wants nothing more than to lean forward and press his lips to Yunho’s, he hates that his feelings still linger.

Yunho’s head tilts when Mingi lacks a response, amused by Mingi’s eyes locked in on his lips. “What’cha thinking about?” 

“Nothing,” Mingi mumbles, bringing his eyes back to the grill. 

Yunho sighs, “Mingi–”

“Don’t,” Mingi keeps his eyes locked on the burning fire beneath the grates. “I don’t want to hear it, it’s all bullshit.”

It feels like a blow to Yunho’s ribs. “None of what I want to say is bullshit, Mingi. You know me.”

“I thought I knew you,” Mingi mutters, purposely keeping his voice low. “I thought I knew how you felt about us, I thought we were getting somewhere, that even though you’re scared, you wouldn’t pretend you didn’t feel anything.”

Yunho frowns, his head dropping. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Min.”

“But you did,” Mingi meets his eye. “And you knew you did in the moment. But you didn’t go back on what you said, you didn’t change your answer. You let me sit there looking stupid because I–”

Mingi cuts himself off and Yunho’s brows furrow for a second, “Because you what?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Yunho urges. “Everything you say matters.”

“Not to you,” Mingi turns sideways, his jaw locked, his brows flat. “Don’t apologize, don’t say whatever pretty words you think are gonna make it better. It was embarrassing, Yunho, sitting there while everyone laughed at the idea of us being together because you said it was weird.”

Yunho’s fingers rub at his eyes, exasperated, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it, it was word vomit, I got scared–”

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is so clear, so even Yunho stands a little straighter. “I know how you feel already. You’re twenty-eight years old, you’re old enough to know words have meaning. You know how we feel about you. We’re done here.”

Yunho’s throat is so tight he doesn’t think he could take a breath even if he tried. There’s no oxygen in the air, nothing to feed his lungs, Mingi’s words feel so concrete all he can do is turn around and walk away. Inside, toward the bathroom, he’s walking without vision, without a brain, he locks the door behind him and finally heaves a strained, verbal breath. 

We’re done here.

You’re done with him. Mingi’s done with him. His back presses against the door, facing the ceiling, willing his tears to stay below the surface. He’s right. He’s grown enough to know that his fear is childish, that it’s time to settle down, he shouldn’t be afraid of what his friends think, what anyone thinks. He shouldn’t be afraid of commitment with you, he knows you won’t hurt him in his soul, he knows how you feel about him. He feels the same way toward you, if not deeper, he feels so fucking much toward you that it terrifies him. 

He’s running out of time to get over it.

If this was a month ago he’d be seeing this situation as an out, he’d be thinking that this was for the best, but now his heart feels shriveled down to a husk in his chest. Hollow, like the best parts of him were gone, missing the people who made him feel whole, gave him purpose outside of sex. Outside of the role he gave himself. 

When he goes back out onto the deck, the sun’s at its last moments of visibility over the horizon, the girls had made it back down, too. You sat next to Mingi at the corner, Jihyo and Jongho across from you, Tzuyu and Yeosang beside you. Yunho sits beside Hongjoong who’s next to Seonghwa, and the couple look at him with sad eyes. 

Seonghwa leans across Hongjoong, his voice low. “What’d you do?”

Yunho sighs, lips flattening. He doesn’t question how Seonghwa read the situation. “You saw what I did. At dinner yesterday.”

Hongjoong makes a face, one that says you’re fucked. “That was a tough watch.”

“I know,” Yunho answers, tone flat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think we’re able to give you advice, this is out of our area of expertise,” Seonghwa looks apologetic, voice soft as he leans across Hongjoong to lay his palm flat over Yunho’s hand, encouraging. “You’ll figure it out if you love them as much as they love you.”

Yunho stares at him for a second and for the first time in thirty minutes he can’t actively hear his own heartbeat. He gives Seonghwa a soft, grateful smile, pulling his hands back in his lap, thinking. 

You’ll figure it out if you love them as much as they love you. 

He lets his eyes graze over the meal, a feast is what it was, far too much food for thirteen people to consume and feel good after digesting, but no one seemed to care. Music flowed from inside, loud yet calming, a backtrack to conversation, banter, laughter, not anything Yunho could hear over the sound of his pounding heart. 

San made a toast to the last night in Haos, a small speech of how happy he was to maintain the friendships that were vital to him. Appreciation for all of you, gratitude for years of friendship, relationships he wouldn’t trade for the world, he even choked up talking about how close he holds everyone to his heart. Not often does he get emotional, but the way the table stood, clapped, clinked their glasses and took turns squeezing him tight, maybe he’ll be more inclined. 

Maybe the three of you weren’t the only ones who are having an emotional weekend. 

By the time dinner was over, all thirteen of you stuffed full, the impending night out seemed more like a chore than anything. Yunho’s stretched out on the couch half-asleep until he hears Wooyoung complain to San that the girls were getting ready in his room, perking his ears enough for him to wake the hell up and trudge up two flights of steps to his room, your room, to see Mingi passed out in the bed. 

A white tee, briefs on his legs, he lays on his side, both hands pressed together beneath one cheek, lips parted as he snores softly. Yunho smiles to himself, staring from the doorway, leaned up against the wooden frame, he looks so peaceful. So pretty, Yunho wanted so badly to crawl onto the bed and press a kiss to his lips, he knows better. Instead he creeps across the hardwood, gathering his things for a shower and leaves. 

The hot water gives him clarity. Maybe it’d be easier to confess tonight with a little liquid confidence, it’d give him an easier flow, he could say everything he needs to say without the stupid fucking wall that’s embedded in him biting his tongue. He loves you, he loves you both so much he feels incomplete, the world feels tilted off its axis without you two by his side. One week without you was hell, one day watching you with each other was like living in purgatory, the in-between, where he can look but can’t touch, he thinks that might be worse. 

Mingi’s still asleep while he starts getting ready, he only wakes up when Yunho’s buttoning up his shirt. He sits up slowly, wiping at his eyes, “What time is it?”

“After nine, I think,” Yunho responds, staring at Mingi through the mirror. His hair looks untouched, eyes half-lidded, he licks his lips three times just to get moisture in his mouth again. Yunho can’t fight his smile. 

“Fuck,” Mingi’s top lip lifts. “You’re dressing up?”

Yunho grins, “I’m only in a button-up and pants.”

“Yeah, but they’re your good pants,” Mingi argues, “the ones that make your ass look good.” His eyes widen after he says it, like his own words woke him up the rest of the way, but he doesn’t correct himself. 

Yunho looks over his shoulder like he’ll be able to see his own ass. “You think my ass looks good in these?”

Mingi stretches, a verbal noise of tightness leaving his chest as his arms go over his head, his shirt lifting at the hem, Yunho’s eyes snap to the exposed bit of skin like a moth to a flame. Mingi lays flat on the bed, arms straight out beside him, legs spread. “You know it does, don’t play coy.”

Yunho laughs a little as he buttons the last one, leaving the top three undone, one silver cross pendant sitting on his chest. He turns slowly, hands planted on the dresser behind him, taking a breath to build confidence since there was zero liquor swimming in his blood, “I regret what I said at dinner yesterday.”

Mingi sits up on his elbows, sleep still evident in his glossy eyes, his tone remains flat, knowing. “Do you?”

Yunho nods, lips scrunching to one side. “I don’t like how we are right now.”

Mingi sits up all the way, “I don’t like it either.”

Yunho’s voice is breathy, a little shaky as he asks, “Can I fix it?”

“Last time we were fixing things it took one day for it to get fucked up again,” Mingi lifts himself off the bed, running a hand through his hair. He stops right before Yunho, facing him, “You’re the only one who needs to figure your shit out, Yunho.”

Yunho watches as Mingi heads for the door, calling behind him. “What if I figured it out already?”

Mingi holds his stare from the door. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Stuck in time, Yunho stares, his tongue caught between his teeth, his heart in his throat. Mingi laughs a little, disappointment clear as he shakes his head. Before heading to the bathroom, he mutters, “Thought so.”

Yunho curses under his breath when he hears the bathroom door close, the shower turning on. He doesn’t wait around for Mingi’s return, he goes back downstairs, most of the guys already showered, dressed, ready to go. He opens a beer with the same tightness in his jaw, frustrated that Mingi just gave him an opportunity to speak and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a word. 

There’s music playing from the TV in the living room, something pop from a decade ago, he doesn’t have it in him to listen, or to the conversation happening around the kitchen island. San, Jongin, Wooyoung, Jongho, it’s all muted mumbling in his ringing ears, he feels pathetic. 

It’s worse when Mingi comes downstairs and doesn’t even look at him. He joins the conversation seamlessly, the laughter grows, they’re talking louder than the music, it makes Yunho feel not only on the outside of his relationship, but on the outside of everything. Isolated because he can’t speak up, he can’t say how he feels, he’s trapped within his own mind, trapped beneath his feelings. He cracks another beer. 

He doesn’t think it can get any worse until you walk down the stairs. On the couch now, he gets a front-row view of the black dress painted onto your body, tied around your neck, stiletto heels with straps that twist up your calves like vines. Mingi meets you at the base, picking you up off the bottom stair with one arm hooked around your body, lips pressed to yours, when he sets you down carefully he says something in your ear that makes your head fall back with laughter. 

Emotion feels like bile rising in his throat. He’s jealous, but it’s different now; what was once frustrating was now driving, the words sit heavy on his tongue. You two look like you’re matching, dark clothes, hair styled, jewelry silver and offsetting one another, he looks down at his outfit and it’s almost like fate that he’s matching, too.

He looks back up to meet your eye across the room, what was supposed to be a glance lingers.

Yunho gives you the smallest of smiles, You look beautiful.  Your chin tilts upwards ever so slightly, I know, Mingi just told me. Ouch. He leans into the backrest, I can’t tell you, too? The corner of your lips tug upward. Thanks.  He watches as Mingi’s hand slithers around your waist. I need to talk to you.  You sink into Mingi’s hold, your back pressed against his chest, What if I don’t want to hear it? Yunho’s jaw clenches. You do. 

Sana shrieks from the staircase as soon as she sees Mingi’s lips pressed to the skin below your ear, “Do not fuck in that dress, I just bought it!”

You pull your attention away from him and he feels like grieving. You don’t give it to him again until you’ve had tequila poured into your mouth from the bottle, all thirteen of you in the kitchen fully dressed, pouring liquor like it’s water and calling it a pre-game. Outside, splitting two Escalades, rides San ordered for your group to take to Rêve across town, Yunho opted to sit in the back with you and Mingi, you scowled as soon as it left his lips. He smiles, because at least you care enough to frown.

San was immediately greeted upon approaching the upscale bar, stepping out of the Escalade to be met with two men wearing suits like it was regular, casual. Inside it was red everything, from leather booths to velvet barstools to the curtain that hung closed upon the stage; walls full of vintage framed photography, the architecture a brown so deep it appeared burgundy, dimly lit shaded lamps on tables, some traded for candles, the bar was drenched in an amber hue. It was definitely moody, a brand created off of atmosphere, it felt cozy as much as it felt expensive.

It was calmly crowded, plenty of people filling up the tables in the center of the room, a crowd before the stage that had waiters with trays between them. You spotted martini glasses, short glasses of whiskey poured neat, women in daring dresses and doused in jewels, men in suits who blew clouds of swirling smoke in the air from their cigars. All thirteen of you looked appropriate, expensive– but not old money expensive like some of the patrons you observed. You wondered about the history of Haos, about San, how deep his pockets really ran. 

You couldn’t wonder for long, though, with how the group was directed past the stage to a steel door at the back of the building that seemed… insignificant. Like it’d bring you outside or to a storage room, not to a long, dark hallway that hummed louder and louder with each step he took. 

Bass thumped beneath your shoes, the group quietly following the man in black like this was normal, no one questioned anything only because San followed with confidence, chest puffed out, shoulders back. Surprise wasn’t the word for what was behind the twin steel door at the end of the hallway, it opened to flashes of blue and purple, music so loud it made you jump where you stood. 

Women on platforms half-dressed, swaying their hips to the beat of the song, bottle girls with buckets of ice and handles of liquor atop their heads parting through the crowd like it was the Red Sea, patrons in clothing that matched yours exactly. The room was filled with people in your age group dancing to the music at the center of the backdoor club, the walls filled with enclosed sections you assumed were VIP, all by velvet roped attached to silver poles.

“So? Are you guys surprised?” San asks from the head of the group, his smirk turned to a wide, excited grin, which everyone replied with a monotonous, confused yes. San laughed, leaning into Jongin, “We wanted to surprise you, you guys looked so confused at the front, like we were gonna smoke cigars and watch Cabaret.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Jongho shrugs, and most of the group nod their agreement, including you. You didn’t care where you ended up tonight as long as there was liquor for you to guzzle.

“This is better, no?” San raises his brows as he begins walking you toward the back wall, what you assume was your VIP section. “Music we know, people our age, it’s been a long time since we’ve all gone clubbing together.”

Tzuyu, in a red dress painted on her body, adds, “Because all the clubs at home suck.”

“Not the ones here,” San quips like he was waiting for that reply, entering the section backlit by blue lights cool enough to be white. “They love me here.”

“You own it,” Mingi snorts, “they have to love you.”

“I partially own it,” San raises a finger as he steps into the open booth, the table at the center already full of ice and champagne. “There’s a difference.”

Jongin starts pouring champagne into flutes, “Should we make another toast?”

“We don’t need to get all teary-eyed again,” Sana smiles, softly instead of the nasty smirk she usually wore with her rebuttals. This was appreciation. “We have our makeup done, Sannie made us emotional enough back at the house.”

“It’s not every day that you get to tell your friends how much you love them,” San holds the flute between his fingers, brows wiggling. 

Yeosang laughs, “It could be, you just choose not to.”

You can feel the music in your blood, the dance floor calling to you, excitement in the bounce of your knee. You only spend fifteen minutes in your section, finishing a singular cocktail before Tzuyu’s pulling you out to the dance floor, after getting ready together in Sana’s room it was like all four of you had taken a breath of fresh air.

The dance floor was already swarming with sweaty bodies loosened up by liquor. Yours not quite there yet, you’re in a fit of giggles as the girls twirl you into the crowd, you stay on the outside of Jihyo and Sana who fall into rhythm, backs pressed to one another as they sway their hips, laughing as they twist around. You and Tzuyu are watching, smiling, giggling until the two pull you into their circle, forcing your hips into the same rhythm as theirs. 

“I’m out of practice!” You yell over the music, and both Sana and Jihyo shake their heads, like they wouldn’t accept the excuse. 

Jihyo slaps a hand on your shoulder, “You fuck, you know how to use your hips!”

Head tipping back with another laugh, you let her pull you into her, your hips so close they might as well be touching. You follow her rhythm, using a fuck-worthy roll of your hips as you do, bottom lip caught between your teeth while you focus. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Sana’s behind you, hands on your hips. “You need another drink, damn.”

Your lips tighten in a line as you look up at Jihyo again, embarrassed. She laughs in response, “She means you’ll feel looser with a little liquor in you.”

Sana stops the bottle girl holding a tray of shots, her screech for help loud as she tries to balance four between her fingers, the three of you snatch them from her hands like candy. Shooting it back in one swallow, you push a breath through your lips like it’d rid the sting from your throat, your face scrunching up at the taste. Vodka– bitter, painful. 

But it helps, it’s not long until your arms lay over Jihyo’s shoulders, your back pressed to Sana’s as she moves to the same rhythm as you, Tzuyu swaying her body in front of Sana. You can feel the music in your blood now, your body thumping with the bass, bones turning fluid with each shake of your hips. You’re unable to feel the warmth spreading through your skin, your senses already overwhelmed by the atmosphere, you’re too busy watching Jihyo’s half-clothed body grinding herself against you.

Eventually Tzuyu heads to the bar for more drinks, handing you another shot before a glass full of something and tequila, you don’t realize how quickly you’re sipping it while Tzuyu is bent over in front of you, her ass pressed to your crotch. You can hear your obnoxious laughter over the music when Sana lands a few smacks to her ass, Jihyo pulling out her phone to record it, the four of you erupting in a fit of drunken giggles and snorts, bodies light, brains somewhere else entirely, not once did you remember there’s an entire club of people around you.  

It’s been so long. House parties, clubs, bars, your friend group used to be outside on a weekly basis, you missed it. You missed them, dancing with them, completely carefree, like you’re twenty-three again. It was nostalgic in a visceral way, like maybe you were twenty-three again, sharing platonic kisses with your friends on the dance floor, waiting for your boyfriend to come scoop you up and fuck you in the bathroom because neither of you could wait.

You don’t realize you’re drunk until Mingi joins you on the dance floor. When you see his face, structured and beautiful, strands of hair hanging over his glossy eyes, a smile on his plump lips, you feel the rush of warmth from your chest to your toes. His pants cling to his legs like they’re tailored to him, strong thighs filling out the fabric, his unbuttoned shirt is showing enough skin for you to lick down his chest. You want to, the urge sitting at the forefront of your mind, you lick your lips as he approaches. 

“I was wondering where you went,” Mingi’s loud over the music, you could get drunk off the rasp to his voice alone. You throw your hands over his shoulders, swaying your hips to a rhythm he meets you at immediately, his hands on your waist. 

“I’ve been here,” you tilt your head, dazed. “We were dancing, the girls are so funny.”

Mingi snorts, “You’re drunk.”

“Nooo,” you shake your head, the word exaggerated, playful. “Just tipsy. Did I tell you how handsome you look?” Mingi looks amused, brows raising, you don’t wait for his answer. “You look sofuckingsexy.” His belly laugh makes your smile grow. “I’m serious, Min. I want you, like now.”

He leans in to attach your lips, a quick peck, he fights your strength to keep him close. “Now? Like were twenty-three again? Don’t wanna wait until we get home so I can fuck you in our bed?”

A small noise slips through your lips at the thought. “Too far away, we just got here.”

“We got here over an hour ago,” his hands curl around your waist, gripping you harder. “You’ve been out here the whole time, baby.”

It feels like you’ve been dancing for ten minutes. “Whatever,” you whine, pressing your front against his. “Kiss me already.”

He obliges, smiling before he presses his lips to yours, hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling your body flush to his. You gasp into his lips, he tastes like whiskey, bitter but sweet, addicting. Your fingers find his hair as his tongue parts your lips, tasting you, groaning into you, your hands fall from his neck to feel him. 

“Baby,” he says with caution, you swallow the warning, tilting your head to kiss him harder. He squeezes your hips as your hands fall from his hair to his chest, palms splayed over his pecs down to his abdomen, tongue dancing with his. 

“I just wanna kiss,” you mumble into his mouth, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as you take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting softly. He groans, chasing your lips again, his hips pressing into you, he’s so easy it makes your core clench. 

He parts your legs with one of his own, pressing into you, making you gasp a sound too lewd for where you are. Entirely bare beneath your dress, the pressure combined with the texture of his pants makes a breathy moan fall past your lips, one he drinks up with his own. Your fingers curl into his shirt tighter, hips bucking into him, one of his hands sliding up to the side of your neck.

“Can feel her on me,” his voice is deeper, almost a growl as he says the words into your mouth. “Knew you weren’t wearing panties.”

One of your heeled feet leaves the floor to grind against him at a better angle, head falling forward until your forehead lands against his, “Shit, feels good.”

He reaches behind you, fingers finding the hem of your dress, holding it taut over your ass. You moan again as your core drags over his thigh, forehead falling to his shoulder, the rest of the club melting away. He curses under his breath, “Baby, hold on, you gotta–”

You whimper into his shirt, eyes screwing shut, tequila and Mingi was a cocktail for impulsivity. Him, the smell of him in your nose, his body pressed to yours, he made you so fucking cockdrunk without even giving you an inch, without even touching you. The pleasure’s overwhelming, you needed more, pressure building steadily, you didn’t care where you were, who saw. 

Yunho can’t believe what he’s seeing. Curiosity getting the better of him, he should have known not to follow Mingi out to the dance floor to find you. But he was growing antsy at the table, listening to the bullshit conversation everyone was having when all he wanted to do was kiss Mingi across the table. Sitting back against the couch with his knees spread, beer in his hand, lips wet and pink and plump, Yunho was stirring in impatience. He’s hungry, he wants to touch him, to kiss him, wants him on his knees between his legs, he wants to tell him how much he loves him with his lips wrapped around his cock. He stared with his chin in his palm, elbow pressed to his knee, his foot tapping against the floor, the liquor made him restless.

At least he waited a few seconds before following Mingi, just to find the two of you at the center of the dance floor, surrounded by bodies and eyes while you grinded your hips against his fucking thigh like you were the only people out here. Mingi’s holding your dress over your ass, your hands in his shirt, leg hooked around his body, he stared until he understood the rhythm you were moving at, watching how you twitched like you were about to fucking cum.

He was seeing red. In his mind you were both still his, and you were letting all of these random fucking people see you like this? Seeing what’s his? He was moving before he could think about it, pressing himself up against your back, hands on your waist to shield you from everyone who could be watching. His voice comes out rough, harsh, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Your hips still like your blood was still victim to his command. Head tilting backward, you stare at him through wet lashes, lips parting, his name leaves your mouth in a soft gasp. Eyes hazy, glossed over, fuck, all his rage dissipates into the humidity of the club, just from one look at you. Disheveled, you didn’t have a frown on your face, your brows weren’t tied together, so fucking beautiful flushed with arousal he can feel it in his chest. 

He looks at Mingi who’s equally as fucked out, cheeks red, eyes glossed over, he stares at Yunho like he wants to devour him, just like Yunho was staring at him in their section. His cock twitches in his pants, his heart twists, it’s been one fucking day and he misses you like he hasn’t had you in months.

He can’t take it anymore. He can’t do this anymore. 

He isn’t thinking when he leans forward, sandwiching you between himself and Mingi as his fingers grab his cheeks, there’s no patience in the way Yunho kisses him, no softness, it’s all hunger and relief and driven by every single thought he’s had today. He says each one with each lick into Mingi’s mouth, he hopes he can feel it, the guilt, the fear, the ease he feels just by tasting the whiskey on his tongue.

“Oh my god,” he hears you whisper, it goes one ear and out the other as Mingi groans into his mouth, it goes straight to his cock. He feels you slip from between them as Mingi’s hands find his hair, his hands slide to Mingi’s neck, their chests pressed together like they couldn’t be close enough.

“I love you,” Yunho breaks the kiss only to say the three words into his mouth and he moans. Between kisses, he holds him close, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I fucking love you.”

“They’re watching,” you’re tugging on his arm, panic ebbed in your tone. “Yun, they’re watching you. They can see you.” 

He pulls away from Mingi to turn to you, your eyes wide with fear, lips parted, eyes bouncing back and forth between Yunho and what he can only assume is all of your friends. He doesn’t care. There’s no shame, there’s no denial, there’s nothing inside him that could stop him from grabbing you by the waist, throwing the other in your hair, and pressing his lips to yours. He breaks it only to murmur, “Let them see.”

You’re stiff for just a second before melting into him, his kisses softer than those with Mingi, more controlled, like kissing Mingi took the edge off his impulse. “I love you,” he whispers into your mouth. “I don’t give a fuck if they see me kissing you, you’re mine.”

You hook your leg over his thigh, palms on his cheeks, relief flooding you. You tilt your head to the side, smirking, “You couldn’t have said that yesterday?” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop speaking,” your fingers tighten in his hair. “Your mouth gets you in trouble. Take us home.”

Your friend group watches Yunho guide you both through the club with wide eyes and parted lips, you don’t spare them a glance as you and Mingi trail behind Yunho like dogs to their owner. The Escalades are still parked out front, a few words from Yunho to the driver and he’s opening the door to the backseat for you and Mingi, ushering you inside. 

You stole Yunho’s mouth the entire drive, Mingi settling for his neck, the skin on his chest, more with every button he ripped apart. You didn’t speak, you didn’t need to, you’d said everything on the dance floor, specifics could come later. The only thing left was consummation, which was the only thing on your mind as you nearly sprinted through the front door, almost tripping on your feet on the climb upstairs. 

“Careful,” Yunho said from behind you when you’d taken two steps at a time, but he couldn’t hold in his laughter, amused at your impatience. You ignored him, forgoing an answer to instead steal his lips once more when you reached the top of the steps. 

His hands found your hips, tongue pushing through your lips, you felt Mingi’s palms a steady wait on top of Yunho’s as he backed you into your room, then closed the door behind you. You broke away to untie your dress behind your neck, just for Mingi to trade places with you, stealing Yunho’s mouth. 

“Bed,” you said into the air, and watched as they tripped over each other, stepping in each other’s line of direction as they backed closer, closer, and closer to the bed. Mingi fell backwards, Yunho’s hands flying for his belt.

You kissed your boyfriend, who hummed when your lips met his. “Tequila.”

“Tastes good, right?” You smile into the kiss, dress riding up your thighs, body bent over completely to keep your mouth on his. 

You can hear Mingi’s pants hit the floor, grabbing your attention. Yunho has his shirt off, Mingi’s briefs discarded. Yunho’s eyes, always cool and collected, are wide, crazed; sparkling with the moonlight that makes a puddle of white at the balcony door, casting the room in a hue of midnight.

Reality settles, and it’s heavy. Drunk you may be, but not drunk enough to not be wondering what’s going through his mind. “Hey,” you offer. His eyes meet yours, charcoal, swirling with moonlight, not quite steady. Your lips curve, “I love you.”

His bare shoulders settle, ease washing over him. He leans over Mingi’s legs, two hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you deeply, speaking into your mouth, “I love you, too.”

“Holy shit,” you mumble into his mouth, making him giggle right back. He giggled. 

He loves you. He fucking loves you. 

Mingi reaches for your legs, pulling one over his chest, you’re absent-minded as Yunho keeps his tongue tangled with yours. He pushes your dress up over your hips, holding it up over your waist, and pulls you down to meet his awaiting tongue.

You gasp out a moan as Mingi groans, bare hips bucking against Yunho who was still leaning over him. Yunho leans back, eyes darkening as he takes in the sight, your hips already rolling against Mingi’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Yunho sighs, grabbing his length through his pants, his grip tight like he was pacing his own pleasure. Like seeing you with Mingi might’ve very well brought him closer than he should have been.

Mingi’s arms hook around your thighs, tongue poking out to let your hips rock against it, allowing you to set your own pace, to use him however you want. You waste no time setting a brutal pace, whimpering as his flexed tongue rolls over your clit, as your hips rock back onto his nose. Fingers curling into your skin, searing where they held you, no doubt leaving oval shapes behind, the sting only makes you grind against him harder.

Yunho’s fingers find his button, his zipper, his eyes zeroed in on the sight before him like he couldn’t rip his eyes away if he tried. Indents of strain dimple the space above his brows, just a slight furrow, his hand finds his length again over his briefs, running his flat palm over his hard cock, a moan tumbling off his tongue. 

Your eyes flare. “G’na cum just like that? Watching?”

Yunho’s lips part. “Could, if I wanted to.”

You find the hem of your dress at your waist, pulling the thin fabric over your head in one quick motion. Still rocking your hips, abdomen flexed, breasts falling at your chest, Yunho groans. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. You hiss when Mingi’s nose catches on your entrance. Yunho’s eyes sink down to where Mingi’s tongue swallows your folds, how it blankets over your core, swiping through, spit sliding down the sides of his mouth. His hand picks up speed over his briefs, hips bucking into his own hand, chest rising and falling heavily, “I might.”

You lean forward, holding Yunho’s eye, moaning as Mingi’s tongue curls inside you. You take Mingi’s length in one hand, the other pressed on his chest, and Mingi’s hips jerk into your hand immediately, a sharp grunt vibrating your thighs. 

Mingi’s knees spread, hips bucking off the bed, feet finding the edge of the bed, legs lifting just to spread wider. You keep your eyes on Yunho, voice a husky whisper, “Join.”

As if you were a siren, his body pulls him forward, his hand leaving his cotton-covered cock just to wrap around Mingi’s, his hand fitting perfectly right above yours. Mingi’s palms wrapped around your thighs keep your hips moving as you and Yunho pump his length, one-handed, your eyes never once leaving each other.

“Fuck him,” you nearly whisper, your voice still husky, coated in arousal. “Push his legs up to his chest and fuck him. I have his mouth.”

Yunho gasps, and it would have been silent if you weren’t so close. His face twinges, a jerk of a reaction, like he wasn’t used to someone giving him orders. But his hands find Mingi’s knees, the underside of them, pushing them upward. He leans toward you, taking your lips in his, and as his tongue pushes into your mouth you know it’s claiming. Steadying. Reminding you who he is, who he is to you. 

Yunho’s hand disappears between Mingi’s legs, earning a shattered moan spat into your core, you smile through the sound that rips from your chest. Rocking your hips again, sitting up straight once more, Mingi’s fingers singe your thighs, each fingertip like iron soaked in fire.

Mingi’s heels find the bed, cock twitching against his abdomen, leaking all over the stretch of skin beneath his belly button. The skin of your thighs gathers between his fingers, but you rock yourself through it, the pain mixed with the pleasure better than any cocktail you’ve had tonight.

Your head tips back as Yunho preps him, listening to Mingi curse into your folds, whining and whimpering but giving your clit the most attention of all. “S’good, Mingi,” you moan out, reaching behind you to run your fingers through his hair, sounding utterly dazed. “Mm, I love you.”

You barely hear him say it back, his voice lagged, muffled by a mouth full of you, head no doubt fuzzy from Yunho knuckle deep in his ass. You bring your eyes back to the older man who’s focused, taking his time opening him up, prepping him for his cock that neither of you can ever really be prepped for.

“Makin’ a mess, Min,” Yunho comments, finally noticing the painting the younger man made on his own skin. Droplets of pre, ropes that dripped down his sides, Mingi moaned in response. Yunho pushes his legs up, you catch them, palms splayed over his knees, holding him spread.

 Beautiful, watching Mingi suck in every single inch. Beautiful, watching Yunho fight every fucking instinct to cum as soon as he bottomed out. It ignited the fire in your gut like you were the one Yunho was splitting open; a harsh moan pushing past your lips, clit throbbing against Mingi’s unmoving tongue. At least he stuck it out, you thought as your hips bucked against him, grinding harshly against the muscle he wanted you to use for your own pleasure.

When Yunho started moving, when Mingi started moaning like nothing has ever felt this good in his life, you could feel it like a phantom limb; brows furrowing, moans growing in pitch, watching your boyfriend fuck your other boyfriend brought you right to the edge.

“Shit… shit,” you moaned, your fingers finding your nipples, pinching, twisting. Hips bucking rapidly, watching Yunho’s abdomen flex as his hips rolled into Mingi’s ass, you neared so close you could taste it. “Gonna cum, Yun, gonna c-cum–”

“Wait,” he ground out, his voice ragged and harsh like he was nearing the brink himself. It made your eyes dart to him, he always lasted, he’s never cum this quickly. Ever. His grin is lazy, his head tipped backward, sweat kissing his moonlight-kissed skin, he utters, “Been waiting– for this, t-to tell you how I feel.” His chin dips, eyes squeezing shut, “Fuck.”

You understood then, that his release was so much more.

“Let me cum,” you urged. “Let me, want to watch you.”

Yunho’s eyes met yours, and agreement shone in the subtle spark of white dancing in charcoal. He leaned forward, wrapping his fingers around your neck, tugging you toward him to crash your lips onto his, shoving his tongue into your mouth, tasting the orgasm that washed over you as soon as you met.

Mingi’s grip rocked you through it, a sob leaving your throat, lips unmoving against Yunho’s. Whispering into your mouth, he uttered, “I love you.”

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t do anything but roll off Mingi’s face, the younger man gasping for a breath, reaching his arms upward for Yunho. Yunho’s hips didn’t falter as he leaned down, as he pushed Mingi up the bed, crawling onto it himself. Head in the pillows, utterly dazed, lovesick and spent, you watched Yunho take Mingi for everything he’s worth.

Mingi sobbed, hands in Yunho’s hair, muttering I love you over and over again like he couldn’t believe he could say it. Yunho’s hips snapped against his, responding every fucking time Mingi said it, not missing a single time it passed through his lips. 

And it occurred to you then, that they were yours. Both of them, finally, for real this time, they were completely yours. So beautiful together, their bodies molding perfectly, lips touching, speaking, not kissing; Mingi’s hands in Yunho’s hair, Yunho cradling Mingi’s cheeks.

You didn’t feel the tears on your cheeks until Mingi spilled onto his stomach, blurry eyes darting to where it dribbled down his side. They didn’t notice until after Yunho emptied himself inside Mingi, when the smack of hips became a sound of slick movement, and their heads turned to yours.

Mingi’s face, fucked-out turned to concerned. Brows bent, lips pouting, he scrounged to sit up on his elbows, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, wiping under your eyes. “I just love you, both of you. That’s all.”

Yunho crawled over to you, a warm smile on his lips as he split your knees, placing a cupped palm on your cheek before he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Wiping your tears, he murmured, “I’m sorry for all the shit I put you through this weekend.”

You sniffed, “I’m just… still a little drunk, you don’t need to console me. I know you’re sorry.”

After cleaning himself up quickly, Mingi curled up to your other side, pressing his lips into your bicep. The two of them watched you like hawks, taking in every micro-expression on your face.

“I’m fine,” you reiterated with a small laugh. “I swear, I’m just emotional. It was an emotional weekend.”

Yunho’s face drooped with guilt. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get my shit together. I didn’t mean anything I said to you–”

Your palms found his cheeks, guiding him down, cutting him off by pressing your lips against his. “I know,” you whispered, eyes opening to look into his. “I know how you feel, I knew the whole time. I’m proud of you.”

His lips quivered. Your smile grows, “Now why are you getting emotional?”

“Because I’ve been searching for this for so fucking long,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “Searching for you, both of you,” his eyes find Mingi, “in everyone.”

“Search is over,” Mingi rolls on his back, eyes playful, lips pinned up on one side. He looks at Yunho with barely a turn of his head, “Should we throw a party?”

Yunho snorts, pressing another kiss to your lips before throwing your leg over his body, collapsing on your other side. After a moment, he adds, “I’ve never felt more like myself than when I’m with you.”

Both yours and Mingi’s heads turn to him, listening. Yunho’s head angles toward you, but he doesn’t look as he continues, “I think it’s why I’ve never settled down. Nothing ever felt right, not until that first night with you both. I mean, after that, I never really left.”

“You tried,” you add with a grin.

Yunho looks at you just to roll his eyes. “It’s scary knowing the best thing that could ever happen to you is happening to you. I fucked it up before I even had the chance to fuck it up.”

“No you didn’t,” Mingi counters with a shake of his head. “You’re here, we’re here. Everything happened the way it was supposed to.”

Yunho’s quiet for a moment. “Thank you for letting me figure it out. For not abandoning me when I gave you every reason to.”

Before tears have the chance to fill your waterline again, you wrap yourself around him, literally climbing on top of him to attach yourself to him. Whispering into his neck, you say, “That’s what you do when you love someone.”

“And we love you very, very much,” Mingi adds, already cuddled up to Yunho’s side.

Yunho presses his lips to yours, a short, sweet kiss. Then turns to Mingi, pressing another short, sweet kiss to his lips. “And I love you both very, very much, too.”

masterlist 3️⃣

Mingi lets out a dry chuckle. Yunho’s question still hangs in the air of his messy dorm room, now a bit charged. He can hear San and Seonghwa fighting in the living room, feeling so far away despite being right on the other side of the wall.  

“No way, she’d never do that”

That’s what he says, but the ways his brows sunk ever so slightly over his confused eyes lets Yunho know he’s got him right where he wants him. He had known it’d be easy. He knows Mingi. Probably more than anyone has or ever will. But truth to be told, he’s shocked it’s being this easy. He worries him sometimes.

“I mean... that’s what they all think”

“Who?” asks Mingi “San?”

Yunho stifles a laugh just as he’s about to take a sip from his glass. His mouth opens in a genuine, silent chuckle.

“Just men in general, Mingi" he explains, then pretends to think about it “Well, maybe San too. You are right”

“But, she--” Mingi stops himself. Even he can tell that he might not be entirely sure, given how defensive he’s gotten. He wants to be, but the idea also unsettles him. The idea that he could not only be failing you in any way, but also oblivious to it makes his mouth run dry “How can you know?”

Yunho hides the satisfied smirk on his lips behind the rim of his glass.

“Little things” he says nonchalantly. Mingi wonders how many times he’s had this conversation with someone else. It makes him sound like an expert, and thankfully to him, or so he thinks, helpful “Volume, muscles... hands”

“Hands?” Mingi is embarrassed to admit that he has no idea what that means. Maybe he really knows nothing.

Yunho can tell right away that Mingi’s ego is bruised, and the way his eyes fall to his own hands resting on his lap is his cue.

“It’s okay” he says with fake reassurance before he throws the finishing blow “You know what an actual orgasm feels like, right?”

The questions sounds like banter, a joke to lighten up the conversation and stop Mingi from spiraling. In reality Yunho’s eyes are hard, slightly cold and too eager in the way he sees his friend's face drain from any color left. The poison in his question goes unnoticed by Mingi, who’d never in a million years would think is best friend is doing anything else than having a casual conversation with him.

“Yeah...”

He does know. But does he? Does he know what Yunho means? What if he doesn’t? The image of you on the bed, unsatisfied while he rests on top of you catching his breath and waiting for him to leave flashes through his mind.

“You can’t fake that right?” he asks abruptly, raspy voice a bit shaky.

“Fake what?”

“The, uhm...” a blush creeps up Mingi’s face. He opens and closes his hand twice, and for a moment the coyness of his friend makes Yunho feel bad.

He chuckles.

“They can, actually” Mingi’s face drops “Is just muscle contraction”

Mingi’s eyes get lost somewhere for a second.

“How can I know?”

“I usually can tell by the sound. I can tell you our neighbour isn’t as gifted as his girlfriend is making him believe”

He’s joking, but Mingi is dead serious when he asks:

“So, could you tell?”

Bingo.

The exciting rush of victory flows through him and he has to hold himself back from grinning.

“Could I... tell?” Yunho feigns innocence. It looks so natural on his soft, boyish features.

Mingi bites his lip, unsure

“No?”

The conversation that follows is one that Mingi swears to take to his grave, the things said between these four walls some that should never be repeated.

The next time you are over at Mingi’s dorm he greets you at the door with his usual wide, bright smile before it stiffens in a way you can’t quite understand. Nevertheless, his arms reach forward and pull you into a tight hug. He feels your muscles loosen up once your head rests against his chest with a happy sigh. You can’t say the same about him, though. His body is uncharacteristically stiff but you say nothing, aware of the stress he’s been under for the last couple weeks. After placing a kiss on the top of your head he lets you inside.

You are still unfamiliar with the apartment, to be honest. You haven’t been here more than once before, when Seonghwa and San happened to be out. You assumed this was the reason why Mingi asked you to come over. That is until you see Yunho standing in the living room. There’s a small, strange pause before you both smile at each other and bow politely as his face cracks into a beaming smile. You are used to it by now, yet the it hits you like the very first time. Every time.

You met Yunho maybe a few weeks into dating Mingi, and you could tell right away why it had taken so little time. He needed him to like you. For Mingi, the most important thing is that Yunho approves. You had come to find out that appearances can be deceiving. While Mingi’s cold looks hide a very soft and naive heart, Yunho’s boyish and cheerful demeanor serves as a mask for his very sharp and perceptive nature. You could see it in his eyes right away the moment they settled on you for the first time, and you can feel it now standing in the entrance of your boyfriend’s dorm. He has accepted you, that much you know. So why? Why does he keep staring at you like--

“Ah” Mingi pops up behind you “Yunho came over for a second but he’s leaving now”

“Yeah, just wanted to talk about some work things”

“Why don’t you wait in my room?”

There is a strange tension in the air that while aware of, you can’t quite place. You look between the two of them and with a small smile you simply walk towards Mingi’s room, closing the door behind you. You take a look around Mingi’s room. There’s not much that you remember from the last time you were here, but the messiness of it seems about the same. You allow yourself to sit down on the bed and look around. Your hands grab a hoodie that rests in a pile on the bed and bring it to your nose, the faint, oxidized smell of Mingi’s cologne still holding onto it. You hear the front door open and close, and a few seconds later Mingi comes through the door.

“Sorry about the mess” he apologizes sheepishly.

He hadn't had time to clean, his mind preoccupied with more... pressing matters. He takes notice of the hoodie in your hands and his heart softens. You pat the space next to him and he obeys like a puppy. The bed sinks under his weight when he sits next to you, making you fall into his arms. You look up at him: his beady eyes, a little shaky while dragging along your face. It worries you a bit, the way he’s holding his breath.

“What’s wrong baby?” you ask, placing a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He exhales deeply when he feels your thumb tracing small circles over his cheek.

“Nothing” he stutters “Just tired”

You coo at him, and it makes him lean into your touch.

“How dare they make you so tired?”

You place a chaste kiss on his lips and they curve into a smile.

“How dare they” he repeats, his shoulders easing slightly when both your hands cup his face.

You bring his face closer and he lets you, a deep exhale fans at your face when your lips meet in a long, close-lipped kiss. Mingi feels himself melt into you, his fingertips dragging over the fabric of your jeans. You can feel the heat of his big hand resting against your thigh, daring enough to settle there but too shy to move without a little nudge. Mingi’s sweet, so sweet. You smile against his lips and he parts from you.

“What’s funny?” he asks.

“You are cute”

“I am?”

You nod, and he bares his teeth in a wide smile before you are sealing his lips again. You lie on the bed, hands dragging him along with you. You can feel the hesitation in the way he gets on top of you. He cages you below his wide shoulders, the bed protests under the full weight of him above you. His hair dangles above you, its touch tickles where it caresses at the skin of your cheeks.

“Do you love me?”

Your heart comes to a halt, your expression frozen. You can see the realization of what he has just asked hit him while the words are still hanging in the air.

“I do”

His face lits up and for a moment he looks like the Mingi you are used to, whatever worry he had completely gone for a split second.

“Do you only fuck missionary?”

The bluntness of the question startles Mingi just enough for Yunho to regret not sugarcoating it. He doesn’t know if it’s the frustration of watching from the sidelines, or the way his hands shake with an aching need to do something, but the crude words escape him before he can stop himself. And now Mingi looks embarrassed, timid in a way he hasn’t been in front of Yunho since they were younger.

“We like it” he answers, insecure in his answer.

Yunho hurries to ease his friend's worries. But not too much. He needs the edge. That sad glint in Mingi’s eyes.

“It didn’t sound fake, but...”

“What”

“Don’t get mad, okay? Listen to me” Yunho props himself on the edge of the couch and places his open palms towards Mingi, trying to soothe the blow “She didn’t fake it, but” he enjoys the way Mingi holds his breath “I think she was a bit bored”

Relief washes over Mingi’s features before they twist in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think she was getting it all out of her. She sounds very... contained”

“She’s loud sometimes” Mingi says, a bit defensive “But she does moan a lot, you heard it. And you said they are not fake”

Yunho’s sweet smile stiffens at the memory of him standing by Mingi’s bedroom door, listening to the way you sounded while getting fucked by his best friend.

“They are not” his lips press into a thin line, Mingi waits “But I think she could be louder”

“What do I do?”

Yunho rubs the palms of his hands. They are sweaty, a giveaway of how close he is getting to the turning point of the slow burn of his plan. He needs Mingi to make the choice.

He needs to pretend he doesn’t want him to.

“Maybe be a bit rougher?”

“I don’t think she’d like that” Yunho expects that answer, because you are sweet. Because you always grab onto Mingi's hand when he’s anxious without him asking. He thinks about the size difference between Mingi’s hand and yours. He thinks about how his are the same size, and he tries to imagine how it must feel to feel yours, so small around them. How he could easily grab your wrists with one single hand and-- “And I don’t do that”

Yunho blinks rapidly, actually surprised.

“Never?”

“It doesn’t feel like...” Mingi’s hands open and close at his sides where he stands in the middle of the living room “I don’t want to hurt her”

Of course. No matter how sweet you are, Mingi’s sweeter. He’ll always be.

“What if she likes that?”

“No” Mingi shuts down the idea, and Yunho’s jaw muscle pops for a second. Mingi doesn’t notice it “I don’t think so”

Yunho doesn’t bring the topic up again, letting Mingi room to breathe and spiral on his own. He knows he’ll be thinking about it when he’s alone in his room. When he’s with you. Every time you take longer than usual to answer his texts he’ll think that maybe you are bored of him. Every time you laugh a beat slower to his silly comments he’ll wonder if you are faking it just to not hurt his ego. Every time you moan in his ear and scratch his back he wonders if you are putting on a performance. It only takes a week for him to knock on Yunho’s room door.

“How close are we?” he asks, hands tugging at the hem of his oversized t-shirt.

Yunho bites back a smile “As close as we can get” he gives a small shrug as he turns back his attention to his computer screen, the soft glow of it masking the darkness in his expression “As close as you need”

Mingi asks right away, almost like he’s worried he might back down if he takes a second longer.

“Would you do something for me?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

The soft fabric rests over your hands, it folds pleasantly between your fingers while you think about what Mingi is proposing. You can feel the heaviness of his stare, sitting right in front of you on the bed, eyes full of worry but also hope. It’s hard to deny him when he looks at you like this, like he’d get on his knees and beg. But you are owed an explanation.

“I thought we could try something new” he swallows, hard “If you want”

No one can blame you for thinking his nervousness is due to the nature of his proposal, after all, how could you assume Yunho has been hiding in the other room? He’s been listening, his body tense from the moment Mingi opened the door and he heard your soft footsteps on their dorm floor. He wondered what clothes you’d been wearing. A skirt, a dress? The one you wore for Mingi’s birthday on a particularly windy day?

You had been so flustered, hands quickly grabbing at the hem of it to stop it from raising too high. But you’d been too slow. You had known that when your eyes met Yunho’s, who had been walking slightly behind you. The way embarrassment seemed to gleam in your eyes and the slight blush spreading fast across your face made his cock throb, and it took him a second longer than usual to give you a casual smile. An expression that had said “What is it~?” that had let you feel touched at how he was pretending to not have seen anything. You had felt silently grateful when he started walking behind you, shielding you from the merciless wind while Mingi and the others played around, unaware. However, Yunho’s intentions hadn’t been as kind as you would have thought. You had actually been suspicious, and you had felt awful about it. Yunho was always kind, charming and gentle. Not only with you, but everyone, especially Mingi. And yet, there was that pressing, suffocating feeling towering over you: close, strong, closing in.

“That’s okay with me” you tell Mingi “Am I putting it on?” Mingi is pretty shocked at your willingness, but it just furthers the idea that Yunho was right. There are things you are okay with. Things you want but won’t ask for. Things he couldn’t see. Things he’s incapable to bring himself to do for you. That’s why-- “Is it for you?”

“No, it’s for you”

Mingi’s large hands grab at the blindfold, and he thinks it feels strange between his fingers. The way his shoulders are hunched over with little to no confidence melts your heart, and you lean forward to press a soft kiss on his lips. You expect the tension on his body to ease the way it usually does, but it doesn’t happen. Instead he just blurts out:

“I love you”

The confession surprises you, but it is Mingi after all.

“I love you too”

Yunho has gotten bold enough to stop by the door, not yet peeking in. Not until Mingi gives him the sign. He can sense the heaviness of Mingi’s body over yours, the way he lays you down on the bed by the way the bed creaks. He can hear the rustling of clothing, your soft hums and the sweet sound of your lips parting and reconciling again. That had been something he hadn’t thought about. He had expected Mingi to be so upset and humiliated about the idea of not being able to fulfill your desires that he wouldn’t bring himself to speak about it in detail. But he had, if only to establish one rule: no kissing.

Yunho’s eyebrow had twitched when Mingi had brought it up, a sharp look of discontent flashing across his face that he quickly had to hide with a casual, calculated shrug. Maybe that’s why the sound of it is working on him so quickly, the restraint of his slacks painfully growing more unbearable with every kiss. He knows the way Mingi kisses you: sweet and slow, almost chaste.

He sees Mingi’s t-shirt drop to the floor from where he’s standing, followed by an item of clothing he’s familiar with. A pretty dress, floral, discarded right next to the bed. He wonders if he can catch it without getting caught, before stopping himself. Any other day he’d have done it in a heartbeat, brought it to his face and take in as much of you as he could. He has always had an idea of what you’d smell like when he had you close: the fading lower notes of your perfume and the faintest scent of sweat.

But he doesn’t have to imagine now.

“I’m tying it now, okay?”

You nod, unaware that he's not really saying that to you. Mingi carefully puts the blindfold around your eyes, shaky fingers tying the knot with care and a shame you can never find out about. He takes in the sight of you. Eyes hidden from him, your parted pink lips, the bridge of your nose. You look so pretty like this, and it reminds him of why he’s doing this. He could never be anything but gentle with you. The idea of leaving a single bruise on your skin horrifies him. And that’s why.

He carefully takes your panties off, dragging them along your legs until they get discarded next to the pile of clothes at the bottom of the bed. Yunho can’t help himself and peeks through the door, the floorboards cracking and making Mingi’s broad shoulders stiffen. He adjusts his stance, blocking Yunho’s view of your exposed body. You are still his, until he says so. Maybe t’is the sudden spark of possessiveness, but he leans forward and wastes no time getting his tongue all over your core. He can’t help but to hum when his tongue drags down and sinks inside your pussy, wet and warm and always so inviting. His.

Yunho brings his hand down to the bulge of his sweats, embarrassingly strained against his boxers and begging to be touched. His jaw tightens at the airy moans escaping your lips. He wonders-- no, he knows you could be much louder than this. He can tell by how loud your pussy is already, barely eaten and already so disgustingly wet. He sees the muscles of Mingi’s arm work, your legs come into view, extending in pure bliss with the sweetest of moans. He squeezes himself through the fabric of his sweats, and if you were paying close attention you’d been able to hear his strained, low moan in the dead silence of the apartment. He’s losing patience. He needs to touch you, needs you louder. You are too quiet, he can hear how your moans get stuck in your throat, escaping only in the cutest, mildest of whimpers. You can do so much better.

He can do you so much better.

You feel Mingi’s head part from your pussy. There is a strange stillness in the air, you are about to raise your voice in a question when you feel Mingi’s fingers slide inside of you in one swift, brutal motion. You let out a surprised moan. Mingi can feel the way you clench around his fingers, his big eyes going from your mouth to where Yunho is holding onto his wrist, using his hand to finger your pussy. He looks up at his friend with big, confused eyes, like a student who can’t figure out the last question to his pop quiz. Yunho nods at him, then drags Mingi’s hand out before pushing it back, setting a torturous quick pace. God, he wants to bury his whole fist inside you, but he can’t get more than this. He needs Mingi to believe his intentions are selfless. He needs Mingi to think that he doesn’t want to fuck the shit out of his girlfriend in front of him.

Mingi wrist hurts with the strength Yunho is holding it with. He watches his best friend use his fingers to finger you, your pussy squeezing around them and coating them in a thick later of arousal. His fingers slide out of you and there’s a pause followed by the slick sounds of tongue over skin. It's hard for you to imagine Mingi sucking at his fingers to taste you, but it's even harder to think that Mingi is letting his best friend suck on his fingers to do just that.

It’s normal, Mingi thinks, given the circumstances. For a single second that strange, loud silence comes back before all of a sudden, you feel him flush himself against your pussy, tongue flat against your labia and nose poking at your clit. Underneath your own scream, you can feel the way Mingi also seems to let out a muffled, surprised moan. It reverberates deliciously on your core, knees coming together to push him even harder against you.

Yunho’s hand is tangled around Mingi’s unbleached roots, forcefully rubbing his best friend’s face against your pussy with burning impatience. Mingi lets him push his face flat against your cunt, his skin wet with your slick and his saliva every time Yunho forces his tongue to press against your gaping pussy. Yunho’s aching to touch you, yet this is the closest he gets. He lifts Mingi’s head, his big eyes looking up at him only to see the mask practically slipping from his face at this point. Yunho's chest is heaving up and down at the sight of your pussy, puffy and pink and abused. It’s begging for him to fuck you. He nudges Mingi’s head in a silent yet commanding motion, and Mingi simply obeys. Mingi starts eating you out a bit roughly, teeth bare and grazing at your clit from time to time, causing your hips to buckle. It feels strange, hesitant, but you can’t help the delicious way the familiar warmth settles in your lower abdomen with every sharp drag of his nose against your clit.

“Baby, can I ask you a question?” he asks. Yunho watches how a thin thread of your slick stretches between his lips when he speaks. He almost has to hold back the thought of licking it from Mingi’s lips himself “Do you want me to be rough?”

Yunho sees the way Mingi’s hand sweetly caresses your leg absentmindedly as he speaks to you. It makes him sick. He hates the way your voice is just as sweet and sincere when you answer.

“Yeah, a bit” It does fuel his ego, though, the fact the he has been right all along ”I like it that it feels like you are mad at me”

“Why?”

“I-I don’t know” you mutter, suddenly feeling ever more exposed than you already are.

There’s another silence, but you can hear it. Faint, truly almost imperceptible. Then Mingi asks:

“Is there anything I should be mad about?”

You think about the stares. The ones Yunho gives you sometimes. Even when his smile tugs at his lips, it doesn’t reach his eyes. His dark, cold and invasive eyes that seem to burn through you. They send a shiver down your spine, further down, every single time.

“No” you lie.

“Then why?” he bites his lip before hesitantly adding “Is what we do not okay?”

“No!” you blindly throw your hands towards where his voice is coming from. Mingi and Yunho have the same thought. Your hands, they give it away. They search for his, grabbing at the one resting over your thigh. It’s big and warm and always so gentle on you “I love it. I was just worried about what’d you think of me. That you might think I don’t like it when you make love to me. I love it when you make love to me”

You part your legs, silently begging him to fill you up and be the good boy he always is. Gentle, sweet, good. Mingi obliges, he could never deny anything you asked of him. You hear the sound of the condom unwrapping. Mingi can’t make eye contact with Yunho through the whole process, body turned away from him when he frees his hard cock from the restraint of his boxers. He can’t help the heat that spreads through his whole face all the way to the tip of his ears when he thinks about the way he could feel you clenching around his tongue when Yunho was holding his face against your pussy. His scalp still burns where his nails have scratched at it. He rolls the condom down his long dick, and without looking at Yunho he kisses you in the lips before pushing against your entrance.

The way he stretches you is as familiar as it’s agonizing. It always is. Size had been a problem in the beginning, the first few times Mingi had been too timid, too worried about hurting you. Every whimper, every muscle stiffening under his touch seemed to freeze him in place like a scared fawn at the sound of a broken branch. It had taken so long for both of you to work it out. You couldn’t tell him you sort of loved the way it hurt. You know that’d freak him out.

Mingi looks above his shoulder to where Yunho is standing. His blown eyes are fixed on you, they turn stern when they settle on Mingi. He gives him a nod, and Mingi bites down on his plush bottom lip before he obeys. He enters you with one thrust, nothing like the slow pace he’d take any other day to stretch you inch by inch. It feels good, you think: the burn, the painful stretch of his full hard cock inside you, claiming you in such a way. You don’t know what’s gotten into him, even if you have your suspicions.

But Mingi is frozen. The moment the pained moan escapes your lips his body stops. He can’t do it. His body just won’t let him. He hates it, hates himself, even if he can feel the way your cunt spasms around him. He wants to give you what you want, but the sole idea of hurting you shuts down his system, hands freezing and rhythm interrupted. You must know, you must be confused. Maybe annoyed? Bored. That’s what Yunho had said.

Yunho.

Mingi’s eyes go to his friend's. He’s not surprised to see he’s hard. Of course he is, has been for a while. Mingi just hadn’t wanted to look at it. Yunho’s a good friend, but a man nonetheless. He can’t blame him, he thinks, not when he’s got you naked, blindfolded on the bed in his dark, messy room. They lock eyes, Mingi’s fall to Yunho’s hard cock begging to be freed, then back up. There is a question in his eyes, one that he doesn’t need to ask.

Yunho understands when Mingi gets out of you with a lie.

“The condom feels weird. I’m going to change it, okay? Sorry”

Checkmate.

“It’s okay. Thank you, baby” you say.

Mingi gets down from the bed. There’s the familiar rustling of the condom wrapper, and the unfamiliar weight of something else. It’s been here for a while. The bed sinks under his weight. The next time you feel his hands place themselves on your knees they feel cold, reverent. The first thing you notice is that he doesn’t kiss you before he aligns himself at your entrance again. Mingi always kisses you, almost as if asking for permission, or thanking you beforehand. Your suspicions are confirmed when you feel it go in. The loud yelp that comes out of you isn’t just because of the torturous way in which he bottoms out in one thrust. It’s the way it stretches you. Mingi has never felt this way: big, yes, but never this thick.

Never this angry.

He stills when he’s all the way in, and you can feel it throbbing inside you. His hands dig into the flesh of your legs, fingernails leaving crescents as he lifts them together and props them against his broad shoulders. He grabs onto your thighs, legs up in the air as he starts thrusting into you at a brutal pace. The position catches you of guard, and your hands try to grab onto something to stop the embarrassing way your body keeps violently bouncing whenever his cock shoves itself back deep inside your pussy. Your moans resonate in the room, hot and loud and incoherent. But he’s dead silent. If it weren’t for the way his hips fuck into you, you might have thought he wasn’t even interested. But you can tell, his cock so hard it hurts inside, fingertips digging into your flesh like he might crumble if he lets go. It hurts where his hips slap against your ass, too. It all makes you clench pathetically around him.

Yunho can’t help himself. It’s the way your pretty tits bounce with the rhythm of the way he fucks you, the same way he’s imagined a hundred times. The way your hands try to hold onto the sheets, the wall, anywhere. He hates that blindfold. He wants to see your cute, almost scared eyes when he starts breaking you. But he can’t have that. He should just be grateful, thankful to his best friend for trusting him like this. It had been painful to swallow the guttural moan that had risen from deep within his chest the moment he got a taste of how your cunt actually felt around him: tight, wet and inviting. His tongue drags along the side of your foot, and he doesn’t miss the sound you make, the slight flutter of your walls around him. He has to stop himself from not moaning loudly as he drags his tongue around it again, mouth sucking at your toes and cock deep inside your pussy.

Still keeping your legs straight, he lowers them until he has them against your chest. He presses them down, and you protest at the way your hamstrings hurt. Yunho doesn’t care, the crying making his cock twitch inside you. He pounds into you at a slower pace, but the way his cock slides inside of you at this new angle, impossibly deeper, doesn’t really let you rest. You can’t believe how easily it goes in now, and neither does Yunho. He has fantasized about touching you underneath tables with Mingi next to you, only to find out you were already wet and waiting for him to slide his fingers through your pretty lips, puffy and needy. But he could have never thought his cock could slide easily after just a few thrusts with how wet your were, the obscene sound of your abused pussy the only thing that could be heard in the quiet dorm. Oh god, how he wishes Seonghwa or San would come through the door. First they’d hear your babbling cries, followed by the wet sounds of your soaked pussy the closer they got. Then they’d get to Mingi’s room, its owner standing in a corner while he pounds his pretty girlfriend into the mattress in front of him.

Mingi’s voice comes back. It’s close, but somehow feels far away.

“Does it feel good?”

His voice is shy, dry. It also doesn’t match the relentless way he’s fucking you. But you know that.

“Y-yeah”

Yunho presses his mouth to Mingi’s ear, breath jaded and hot with what he wants to ask.

“Do you like it rough?” Mingi repeats, bashful.

“I like it” you babble “Your cock feels so good”

Something inside Yunho snaps.

Maybe is the heat getting to his head but he’s sure that you know. Sure that you’ve figured it out and you are loving the way his cock brutally pounds into you. Sure that you are speaking directly to him.

He pulls out of you and brings your legs down, the sudden feeling of emptiness leaving you cold. Your legs are sore and it takes you a moment to check if you can still feel them, a tingling sensation running through them when Yunho settles them back on the bed. His big hands grab at your hips, the easiness with which he’s twisting your body and turning you around makes your arousal spread further down your thighs. The moment your ass comes into view he slaps it, hard. The sound makes Mingi wince where he stands next to the bed, and his hand rises to stop Yunho from doing it again, but then he hears it. A lewd, shaky moan coming from your pretty mouth. The mouth that says such sweet things to him. The one you use to tell him how much you love him.

Yunho gives him a look, and Mingi steps back.

Yunho’s hands grab at your hips and you let a whimper at the way he drags you across the bed and towards him. He props your ass up, his other hand coming to the back of your head to push your face flush against the mattress. He slaps your ass again, the way it jiggles making him swallow a low grunt in the back of his throat. He kneads at your ass, grabbing the flesh with so much strength it hurts. You can’t wait to see the bruises it leaves behind, even if you feel guilty. But yet again, you are not to blame, are you?

His fingers drag lower and push inside your pussy without warning, not that he could give you one. He starts fingering you at a frantic speed that has you squirming underneath him, delighted words of protest muffled by the sheets by now stained with your spit, they feel damp against your skin. You try to push yourself up, your hands uselessly pressing against the bed. The resistance makes Yunho’s grip on your nape stronger, and any attempt to break from his grip is futile. The way your feet sway in the air accompanied by the muffled sound of your desperate moans is making a cold heat spread through Yunho’s chest, he can feel a strange shiver travel from his spine all the way to the tip of his cock, red and leaking and aching to be inside you again. He leans forward slightly and spits into your swollen pussy, the drool making the disgusting sounds coming out of it louder.

There are so many things he wants to say to you. So many disgusting, borderline cruel things he wants to ask and say to you. One above them all, though. He hates it the moment it pops into his head. Every single time.

His fingers get out of you with a wet sound that makes his cock jerk in protest, desperate to stretch you out like that’s what its meant to do. He carelessly collects your hair in a ponytail, strands of hair left out and falling around your face when he forces you to lift it from where it’s been drooling on the bed. The arch of your back it’s a sight he wants to commit to memory, and so is the feeling of his cock bottoming out once again, fitting perfectly like it’s meant to be. You and him.

And Mingi.

He pulls at your hair, forcing your back to arch uncomfortably while he mercilessly fucks into you. He thinks about taking his time, dragging his dick in and out, savoring the feeling of your pussy sucking him in over and over again. But he can’t help himself. He wants to fuck you. You deserve to be fucked like this.

The sound of skin against skin echoes through the four walls of Mingi’s room while he watches Yunho bury his cock deep inside you, your mouth hanging open in a string of silent moans. Yunho tugs at your hair until your hands rise from where your nails have been desperately digging onto the sheets. He lifts your upper body by the hair, back arching against his chest and hands aimlessly trying to settle anywhere. They find their place at your thighs, nails scratching at your own skin completely lost in the way Yunho ruts into you, his breathing fanning over your neck. You can hear them now, the faintest, repressed groans rumbling against his ribcage. You clench around him, and that earns you to be pushed against the bed once again, one hand pressing at the back of your neck while Yunho brutally fucks into you in a way that makes Mingi want to look away. He doesn’t, though.

Usually this is Yunho’s favorite position. But there’s that thought in the back of his head. Haunting, disgusting.

He thinks back to his mocking question to Mingi.

“Do you only fuck missionary?”

He had been so smug about it at the time. He hates how foolish he feels now. Loathes it.

He flips you with ease until you are on your back again, and he almost feels bad by how dizzy you must be. He wishes he could see your lost eyes, glassy and pleading and fucked-out. He pushes your legs open and when he starts to thrust inside, the thought comes back, so loud he can’t help himself. It’s the way your lips part, bruised and pink with the threads of saliva trailing down your chin and glimmering on the faint light of Mingi’s desk lamp. Your hair sprawled across the sheets, messy and ruined. Your body beneath his, so small in comparison, so fragile and willing for him. You feel so hot underneath his touch.

The thought slips out.

“So pretty” he moans, breathless.

Mingi doesn’t hear it, and neither do you. It’s almost inaudible under the constant tearing of your moans. He doesn’t care, really.

He buries his head on the crook of your neck, his full body pressing against yours as his cock thrusts impossibly deep. The feeling of his full body weight flush against yours is as overwhelming as it’s intoxicating. His hot, hectic breathing fans at your neck, and you can taste the saltiness of his skin where your lips brush against his shoulder. The rhythm is erratic and yet the way his hips rut against your cunt is so controlled, practiced. It’s desperate and careless, yet precise. Yunho doesn’t want to think about Mingi, probably panicking next to the bed. At least one part of him. He saw Mingi’s hard cock when he was mercilessly fucking you, and he can always convince him. That’s the great thing about Mingi: he forgives. Especially him, he’d forgive him a thousand times.

He savors the feeling of your bodies pressed together, it feels hot to an agonizing point, sweat making your skin stick together. He understand Mingi for a moment, the fear of breaking you. It doesn’t scare him though, instead it makes a blinding heat rush to his head.

“I love the way you fuck me” you whisper with your lips pressed against his earlobe, the words pushing through your lips in a broken, desperate cry.

The thin thread holding Yunho's sanity together snaps when he hears the subtlest hint of shame in your words. You are speaking to him. He knows it. These words are for him to hear, not Mingi, standing by the door. No, you don’t want him to hear you. Don’t want to break his huge, gentle heart. God you are so sweet, so twisted, maybe even more than he is. You feel his cock twitching inside you, and Yunho has to stop himself from cumming inside of you. Oh how he wishes he could take off the condom and bury his cock impossibly deep, bulge poking at your abdomen when he cums inside. But he can’t.

He pulls himself out and rips the condom off him, discarding it somewhere in the room. Had this been any other way he’d go right back into fucking you.

Maybe if he had met you sooner. Went to talk to you himself instead of encouraging Mingi to do it himself.

Mingi.

With a gesture of the hand he prompts Mingi to step closer, hurrying him and eyeing his hard cock with an impatient look. Mingi understands quickly, his dazed mind surprisingly sharp under the harshness of Yunho’s gaze. If he cums and you take the blindfold off to a Mingi still hard, the gig would be up. It never was on, really, but he can’t let Mingi know that. It’s supposed to be your little secret, is it not? Yunho strokes himself, doing his best to control his jaded breathing as he brings himself to his climax. Mingi doesn’t need to restrain himself, he whimpers and cries the way you are used to him doing when he starts jerking off alongside his best friend. He sees Yunho’s chest rise up and down, nostrils flaring right before long threads of cum spill from the red tip of his cock and into your stomach. God, what has he done to you? How did all this happen?

But you are happy, aren’t you?

Even when it’s his best friend jerking off and cumming into your skin. His best friend leaving your pussy satisfied and fucked properly. His best friend fucking his lovely girlfriend--

You feel the second thread of cum hit your skin as Ming lets a loud, almost surprised moan. You can feel it slightly to your left towards the foot of the bed, and you have to bite down a smile. Isn’t that so sweet of them?

You can hear their breathing, both of them, heavy and charged despite how quiet Yunho is trying to be. You remain sprawled on the bed, your chest rising and falling between whimpers. Yunho stares down at you with something akin to annoyance, eyes roaming your body with an expression of displeasure. His jaw clenches until the muscle pops up under the skin. He’s not used to this. Not used to leaving someone unsatisfied. He’s disgusted by the fact he came so quickly, when he had had in mind fucking you for so much longer, in so many other ways. Instead he came like a virgin schoolboy, leaving you unsatisfied when this was supposed to be his moment. What exactly did he prove, if he couldn’t make you cum before he even did? How could you do that to him?

God, he hates you.

“Mingi?” you innocently call, your slightly trembling hand reaching in the air for your boyfriend.

Mingi reaches for it immediately, getting on his knees next to the bed and placing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I’m here”

Yunho observes the scene, mouth twisted in disgust. This is his cue to leave. He picks up his clothes from the floor, not really worried about making noise anymore and leaves the room. He has to stop himself from slamming the door on his way out.

He might be done, but this is not over.

If there’s anything Yunho hates the most in this world, that is to losing.

And you just won.

final words: this is a story i created with my brain that i had roaming around in my notes since i was a youngin... nanabanana doesn't even know who ai is, yheard? AND ALSO i apologise if some stuff makes no sense... if we think about this on a technical since it's all fictional, it doesn't necessarily matter that much. dedicated to my ever lasting unattainable love, levi! 🫧 happy reading <3

ACT I

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ AVG AGE — 14-15

to you, jeno was just a boy with midnight black hair who you’d had a pea-sized crush on for a decent amount of time. one year, maybe two at most. to jaemin, your crush had gone on for one to two years too long, over a guy with hair that was an unmatchable shade- “you gotta shit or get off the pot, rabbit.” he’d say to you on the campus bench placed perfectly under a cherry blossom tree.

he’d fit that nine-word sentence into as many places as he could, it became a tradition for quite some time. jaemin wasn’t jealous, he just felt like jeno was inadequate for someone as beautiful as you.

beautiful- an iceberg, an umbrella term. what weren’t you? not only to jaemin, but to the world? first place in every mathematics test you’d ever taken, the first to help fallen down old ladies when they toppled over, religiously feeding the stray cats with the care kit you meticulously keep in your handbag.

you were beautiful, selfless, intelligent and big minded and smart and jeno was just… a pair of biceps and a nice smile. but as of late, jaemin put his opinions to the side for the benefit of you. “hey, jen. how have you been?” he spoke into his phone, playing with the string of his sweatpants. jen— the nickname in itself, leaving jaemin’s mouth felt wrong; out of place.

there was a beat of silence, as though jeno was racking his brain for why jaemin would even be calling him in the first place. every idea of this occurring was once very distant and far away; what business does an IT student have with levi highschool’s P.E phenomenon? “uh, i’m goo—“

jaemin despised small talk, and he wasn’t about to make exceptions for jeno’s benefit, “i was wondering, are you interested in hanging out with me and y/n this weekend? i was thinking we could go to the beach for the last time before school starts up again.”

“you and rabbit? i thought you guys were already an ensemble… why would you need me there?” jeno hummed, speakers buzzing at the deepness in his voice.

jaemin might’ve recoiled in his skin at jeno’s curiousity. we don’t need you there, was what he wanted to say, but instead he scratched his head, “well, i don’t know. i just thought it’d be fun?”

“wait! does your rabbit want me there?” a hint of optimism spiked his voice, and jaemin swallowed a non-existent boulder that lay in his throat. he wanted to grit his teeth and slam his index finger on the burning red ‘end call’ icon, but he pushed through.

“maybe…? but don’t tell her, please. she’ll burn me at the stake for betraying my best friend privileges.” they laughed unanimously, and for a split second jaemin got to thinking that jeno wasn’t as bad as he had seemed to be for all those years.

“your secret is safe with me, jaem. just tell me when and where,” jeno’s willingness took jaemin back— he hadn’t expected this to be so easy. he thought he’d have to go through a weird initiation process to even begin to strike up a conversation with reonowned jeno lee.

a fleeting summery blue day saw three people sitting on the beach; your favourite one, the one that had nearly pearlescent sand, blue waves that were never not calm, and sunlight that filtered through the meticulously placed palm trees just right.

“so, jeno, this is y/n. i call her rabbit, and you can too if you want to,” jaemin spoke, pulling you gently by the wrist to look up at jeno. you may have gotten vertigo if it weren’t for the fact that jaemin was still holding your arm.

“hi jeno, it’s nice to meet you!” his smile was delectable and your voice didn’t shake, it held it’s weight and you were proud of that tiny fact. his beauty mark was gorgeous and his hair was styled just right, and his t-shirt was subtle but so sophisticated,

“likewise, rabbit. i’ve heard great things about you,” those last few words snapped you out of your mental ramble, and you looked between both jeno and jaemin, “oh god, really? i’m sorry—”

“only great things, rabbit, only.” jaemin smiled and winked at you as jeno walked away to sit down on the picnic blanket jaemin had carefully arranged just an hour before. “so, how long have you guys been friends for?”

the sun weaved it’s way through the tall and stern palm trees, “we met in first grade, on the first day of school. i kinda hit jaemin in the head with my umbrella, and my grandma told me off. i apologised to jaemin but i just knew from when he turned around that i needed to ask him, “do you wanna be best friends?” and he said yes, and we never looked back,”

“those were her real words, jeno, in a little baby voice too, heh!” you laughed and shook your head, replaying the sequence of events in your head. “awweee, wait, i think i can visualise it!” jeno held out the index and thumb of both of his hands and put them up to you in the shape of a rectangle, as though he was regressing back through the look in your eyes to the way you were all those years ago.

“in sickness and in health, aye rabbit?” jaemin flopped down on the picnic blanket shortly after that, succumbing to sleep. “jaemin can sleep anywhere, by the way. i feel like that’s an important thing for you to know if you’re gonna be a part of us,” you spoke, looking out to the sea through your sunglasses.

jeno snorted, “why thank you, rabbit. good to know. do you fall asleep easily too?” you huffed, “it usually takes me an hour or two to properly knock out, y’know? it’s never been my strong suit.”

“i’m like that too, rabbit,”

your first meeting with jeno is short, but in turn, sweet. the wheel, as some may say, was set in motion from that day onward.

the taste of the september air was bitter as it enveloped your tongue, immersed in a conversation you really didn’t care to retain. you tugged on the sleeves of the blazer of your navy blue and gray school uniform as the speech continued.

“and then i went to greece, well, athens to be precise. it was so funny, my brother and i were eating souvlaki for every meal- the only thing that would change would be fries in the pitta for dinner.” luna was busy rambling on about her most recent family vacation, and you could swear that dollar signs might’ve fallen out of her mouth instead of actual words.

she was notoriously rich, a new handbag on her arm every week type rich. this week, it was a one of a kind baby pink chanel cambon ligne tote.

“hi, my rabbit! how was your summer?” jaemin ran up from behind luna to hug you, grin beaming wide and proud. the same jaemin that had been your friend since your very first day of kindergarten, when you had hit him on the head with your umbrella much to your grandma’s dismay.

you looked at him with gratitude in your eyes, “my summer was the same as always, jaem. no changes whatsoever, what about yours?” he walked closely to you as you moved on to find your first class of the day. (as if you hadn’t spent every other day by his side)

it was your first day of tenth grade— and to say that you had been dreading it was an understatement. the one shining light in your school life was jaemin- where you were silent and timid, he was loud and stern. hence the way you stuck to him like glue more often than not.

“i’m not silly, rabbit, i know we were together. i just it would be an effective way to get you away from luna. it’s common knowledge she doesn’t like hearing about anything but herself and her life,” he spoke gently, as if to reassure you that he wasn’t a totally dumb, clueless rock.

you scoffed in acknowledgement, “but yeah, my summer was good. really good.” he nudged you as he finished his sentence and all you could do was roll your eyes. you both turned the corner in the dimly lit hallway and found yourselves in a pretty cute classroom.

the walls were all painted an undeniable orange, and the apertures were wide and welcomed any and all light the sky could provide. both you and jaemin had chosen spanish as your option language when you first started middle school, all those years ago.

“hola a todos, hoy nos hacemos un actividad de escribir. el titlo, “el verano de mis sueños.” quiero 600-700 palabras.”

you sat down in the middle row on the middle desk, “ah, y/n! you’ve reminded me, everybody- you get to pick a new seat for the year. but don’t try to pull fast ones on me by sitting next to the people who won’t encourage you to do your work, okay?” the teacher, miss azzo, spoke.

you smiled at her before you heard the screech of the chair next to you being pulled out. only, it wasn’t who you expected to be sitting down next to you.

“hey, rabbit. is it cool if i sit next to you?” jeno spoke, yes rabbit, jeno spoke. to you. the nearly flourescent ceiling lights shone down on him in a somehow flattering way, and you didn’t really know what to do.

taken aback, sure, you were. moreso by the beauty mark on his chocolatey left eye, and the way his midnight black hair looked daringly beautiful with no particular underlying cause.

words, rabbit, orst you’ll become a rock!

“uh, sure jeno, hi,” you smiled at him but the time passed so quickly that soon the chair to the left of you was being pulled out, that same screech ricocheting across the classroom.

jaemin, “sup?” he huffed down into his seat, and both of the boys did their handshake in front of you, leaning over your desk as they did so. you grimaced, “right in front of my salad, guys?”

“i thought we were all sharing the same salad, rabbit? jaem told me so,” jeno smirked and jaemin laughed like a madman. “you three are thick as thieves, when did all of this come about?” a rhetorical question, because none of you answered, “i expect to read about this in at least one of your essays.” miss azzo smiled from across her desk.

jaemin liked to charm the teachers, it was always in his nature. “of course, i’ll take the burden of that, miss. you can totally rest assured.” the summer of your dreams was certainly a subject to ponder upon; so ponder-worthy that you could nearly fall asleep in your imaginary land.

all things considered, you like to think you kept your cool that day in spanish class. ordinarily you would’ve ducked under the table and hid, earthquake anticipation style. but hey, maybe this school year was the turning point in your life, maybe, maybe?

caesar salad was eaten at lunch time; you’d spent four hours looking forward to gnawing on the spicy-chicken leftovers that you’d made for dinner yesterday.

“the chilli might as well have singed my nostril hairs into dust, rabbit!” luna cringed at the smell, which you found bizarre considering all of her stories consisted of wide ranges of lunches from different cultures.

you rolled your eyes, “why are you coming to sit here, with me?” you crossed your arms as you leaned all your weight on the picnic bench. luna looked taken aback, “because i,” a beat of silence, “well, i’d like to be your friend?”

you nearly scoffed. where were the hidden cameras? as a matter of fact, where was john quiñones? there was no waythe luna park was offering friendship to you at midday in the dawn of october.

“y’know rabbit, you’re not as invisible as you think you are. people know who you are, dare i say some people may even think you’re really intruiguing and also very beautiful.” she smiled through the sentence and there was the same tone of affection she usually used to describe her handbags.

“is ‘some people’ just one person, luna?” you guessed it was safe to assume so and you attempted to bite back your smile— because much to your dismay you had definitely felt the same about luna. her excessively black hair curled up at the ends as it gathered around her waist.

“rabbit, do you want to be my friend or not?” she spoke, clenching her cambon ligne tote as though she were a vice. “yes, luna, i would love that.” and as legend would have it, luna would come to love your caesar salad, especially the spicy, chilli chicken.

a week after back to school, a week after you’d finally settled back into the boring routine of lessons and tiresome lectures, you are invited to go out with not only jaemin, but jeno too. that october afternoon, after you finished your media literacy lesson, they were waiting outside for you.

the sight may have made your stomach swirl; for some reason they both looked bigger and taller than you’d remembered from even just a mere week ago. jaemin’s backpack was dangling off of one shoulder, jeno’s duffle bag hoisted against his hip.

you could totally get used to this situation and clench it in your fist until it smushed and never, ever, ever let it go. jeno saw you first, and beamed his smile at you; the kind that even reached his eyes.

“happy friday rabbit, can you believe we all made it through our second week of school with no injuries?” jaemin asked, looking down at you. the look in his eyes may have meant a lot to someone like jeno, but to you the glisten of hope was nothing out of the ordinary.

“of course we made it! we’re one of the greatest trios on earth, guys. i’m just glad miss azzo enjoyed our stories.” you spoke, walking between the two of them. even though your trio was new, even though jeno was the newbie on the block, nothing in the atmosphere felt unnatural to you.

“we’re going bowling, right? what are you guys doing after?” the beautifully black haired boy questioned both you and jaemin. good question, jeno! “there’s this spot that belongs to rabbit and i, i think you’d really like it. the only problem is that it involves the sea again…”

“that’s all good; i love the beach anyhow,” jeno shrugged as you all arrived to the bus stop. “jeno, this isn’t just any beach.. it’s really magical. like maybe even too magical for you to comprehend.” you spoke with the image of that place in your mind.

“ah, okay. in that case, i’m even more excited to see it, rabbit.” jaemin took each of your bus cards and held them in his hand as he flagged down the bus. always two steps ahead and also always acting like someones mother.

the beach you and jaemin loved didn’t have sand, or an easy point of access to swim. but that’s what you found so awfully charming; the beach was rocky and all there was leading up to the deep, vast sea was beige rock and dried up sand dollars.

there were no streetlights on that beach except for the one at the bus stop’s shelter. this meant that the big dipper was visible from any which way you wanted to percieve it from. “wow, you guys really gatekeep some of the best places i’ve ever seen,” jeno whispered as he looked up at the sky.

you couldn’t see much, but you were sure to smile and wink at jaemin. “well, jen, if we gatekeep it we preserve it’s beauty, no?” you were glad it was a friday; you had no school tomorrow nor external obligations. hence the way you flopped backward, resting your head on your backpack.

you looked between the two boys, and your heart felt full in a way it never had before back when it was just you and jaemin. “i understand that. hey, i swear i’ll gatekeep this place from everybody too, i promise,” jeno spoke, chuckling at the seriousness on jaemin’s face.

that night was reserved for jeno’s backstory only, you and jaemin had come to agree. “well, my dad is the ceo of monkey foods™️. you guys know, that chain of restaurants and different fast food places? he owns it, and i guess by extension that makes me a silver spooner. i try to steer myself away from that path, but sometimes i fail,”

“jen, you’re only young. you shouldn’t put that much pressure on yourself,” you whispered, looking up at his broad back. jaemin was busy digesting the fact that he was sitting near probably the second richest person he knew— the first being luna, the second now being jeno.

jeno turned back to you and smiled gently, as if to say ‘thank you’. “do you think you’re going to take over the company when you finish school and— or, university?” jaemin made a point of keeping the conversation going.

jeno shrugged, “i don’t really know what i wanna do. to be honest i think my cousin is more suited to managing something as— benign as restaurant operations. and i know even the way i talk about it is obnoxious, but at this point in time i don’t want to be known for something like ceo of monkey foods™️. i truly hope i’m worthy of something bigger in this life, you know what i mean?”

something was changing within both you and jaemin, because the words that were coming out of jeno’s mouth were the type of statements you’d both gag at and roll your eyes due to the entitlement that was reeking off of jeno. but, nobody was rolling their eyes. in fact, the both of you were indulging him.

jeno was an only child, his favourite colour was silver, his favourite food was rigatoni pasta with plain old passata, he only liked western rap music, he loved his apple watch, he loved volleyball and he believed in love.

those were the main parts of the moonlit excavation that stuck with you. jaemin would never let you know, but he knew from that night on that you both were in way out of your depth. this would never work. sure, it could work for a few years and maybe even a decade, but he knew whatever this blurry situation was, was sure to end in the jarring method of crashing and burning.

but much like the pride jaemin had swallowed all that time ago by giving jeno a call in the first place, he decided to swallow his doubts and give all of this an undeniable, full force shot.

october blurred into january, and most of your daydreams had a new addition; jeno lee! the physics lab was usually the venue in which you dreamt up all kinds of scenarios, and the “old fart, or is it, bag of bones?” as jaemin referred to your teacher, never really seemed to mind.

jeno had invested in some new timberland boots— they were dark, clunky, chunky and chocolatey. your eyeballs might’ve nearly fallen out of your head when, “they cost me three hundred, what do you guys think?” because who could spend that on shoes without dying a little inside?

“jeno man, for three hundred they better be singing me a fucking song everytime i bless them with the occupancy of my feet… you’re crazy, dude!” you giggled because you knew jaemin was being serious. jeno chuckled because he found humor in what jaemin was saying.

“well, i love your shoes, jeno!” they added an inkling to his height, and he suited them. he smiled down at you in the middle of the hallway, “they’re not shoes, rabbit, they’re boots. but thank you, i appreciate it greatly.” ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆😵‍💫🐇🫧

yes, your brain may have gotten a little tipsy and fuzzy at the tone in his voice, but you were pulled out of that delusion pretty quickly thanks to jaemin’s soft hand gently tugging you away from jeno, “rabbit, we have ethics to get to,”

jeno had been holding your gaze for what felt like forever, but you tore your eyes away from his, “right, yeah, see you around jeno!” you opened your mouth to say something to jaemin, “whaddya mean, see you around?! i’ll see you guys at lunch!”

“y’know, rabbit you might wanna check the corners of your mouth,” you looked up at him with knotted eyebrows, and the grin he was holding back threatened to spill. “heh, really?” you reached up to the corners of your mouth, ready to wipe whatever mess there was away, but you also still hadn’t put two and two together, “yeah, i think you might’ve drooled a little, just a—”

“oh, shut up, jaemin!” you both laughed and you pushed him to the right of you, nearly sending him into the rows of lockers. you pulled him back to you gently, “i’m just messing with you,” and he dropped it for months after that.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ AVG AGE — 16-18

sweet sixteens were made for giant cakes and an abundance of party poppers, right? confetti decorated every inch of luna’s living room floor as the speakers pounded some of your favourite songs right through your core.

it had been twenty minutes after jaemin and jeno had texted that they were on their way, and you’d be telling a big fat lie if you said you weren’t looking at the door with every minute that passed. you were getting antsy; or, as jeno liked to put it lately, you had ants in your pants.

the black dress you were wearing with the bows on either side now felt way too tight, your kitten heels were giving the balls of your feet a very, very hard time and your dangly earrings were tickling the sides of your neck way too much.

nearly the whole of your sixthform group was there; luna was busting an absolute abundance of moves by the dj booth, in the midst of some people who used to go to your high school. luna must’ve sensed your dismay, because soon someone was grabbing your hand and dragging you to the middle of the room.

“it’s your birthday, rabbit, you mustn’t be such a debbie downer!” throughout the few years that your friendship had blossomed, she was proud of the fact that she was now getting the hang of reading your facial expressions with no involved effort needed.

you groaned, but the music was persistent in getting you to move along to the beat. luna’s eyeliner complimented the gentle purple of her eyeshadow as she spoke, “i know you’re waiting on them two… but it’s literally your birthday; it only comes around once a year, babe!”

you knew she was trying, but your tunnel vision was stern in the way you couldn’t resist thinking about those two who had not recently, but powerfully nonetheless, come to be a huge part of your heart.

maybe it was your recent inclination in age, maybe it was the singular glass of prosecco you’d downed earlier. whatever it was, something about it felt permanent; some slice of you knew that you would proabbly be thinking about both jeno and jaemin in a habitual way from that moment on.

yes, the music was pounding much like your head, yes, luna was being a really good friend, but all you could think about where jeno and jaemin were. you’d rather be posted up in between them than in the middle of a birthday party.

despite your wishes, the universe must have kept hanging up the phone you’d been attempting to complain through because the night pushed on, and the feeling drilled itself deeper into your core. and in the pit of your stomach, intrigue sat lurking in the acid— why was their absence affecting you so much?

everybody shush!the front door swung open, the music getting evenly spread across the interior and exterior of luna’s jumbo house, pacifying your ringing ears.

“where is the birthday girl?!” jaemin, y’know; your bestest friend in the whole world, yelled out over the music. your head whipped around at a speed like no other; your smile beaming the same way jeno’s did all those years ago.

something you’d come to notice about jaemin was that his height held space in a room. some tall people were just tall; but jaemin acted tall and you could feel that presence more prominently all of a sudden. jeno’s biceps were glistening in the strobe lights and you swallowed your thick spit.

“rabbit’s here, jaemin!” the miniscule crowd that had formed around both you and luna divided straight down the middle and you walked toward them. “happy birthday, rabbit!” engulfed in a group hug too strong for you to form tangible thoughts, but your confusion powered through.

“thank you, thank you… where were you guys?” all this time you’d been blind to the way jeno had only hugged you with one hand, and how jaemin had dropped a giant box behind him in an attempt to hold you completely. “well, i know our timing really sucks and we should’ve had foresight. but, i hope this makes up for a smidge of the disappointment you felt. just so we’re clear, we’d never forget a day as important as your birthday, rabbit.”

jeno’s voice echoed through your ears and down to your heart the same way a deep trombone would. “type shit, rabbit. what jeje said word for word is how i, too, feel about this situation.” jeno pulled his hand out to face you with the biggest bouquet you’d ever seen in your life.

your favoruite; white and pink lilies, baby pink roses and a lot of baby’s breath inbetween the small crevices that the flowers left. you dreaded to think of how much they would’ve paid for something of that stature. “oh my god, you guys?! how beautiful!”

and then jaemin turned around to lift up the cardboard box, “i told you guys to not get me anything; so i’m hoping this is just a vessel to make a box fortress.” you spoke with concern, but they both ignored the underlying threat that lay within your sentence.

it wasn’t long before jaemin scoffed, “you’re our girl, rabbit. don’t talk such binswat!” jeno held your arm then, “i think it’s better if you sit down to open it though.” he guided you to the couch with such gentle ease that you felt the hairs stick up on the back of your neck.

the couch welcomed you as you tugged on the tape that laid across the box. inside sat another box, but it wasn’t just any box. it was most definitely, without a doubt, a chanel box. you were glad that jeno made you sit, but you were very, very angry at the fact that they had bought something this ostentatious for your birthday.

there may have been tears trickling down your cheeks as you spoke, “guys, why did you spend this much on a stupid birthday?!” the music flowed around the room as most people paid no mind to you opening the box, and crying for that matter.

“rabbit, if you don’t open it right now i swear to god i might breakdance in front of everyone here. and you know how much i suck at breakdancing.” you lifted the lid of the box as if it were a newborn baby. you unfolded the monogramed opaque tissue paper and there it sat— an 11.12 bag looking right back at you.

the bag was patent black and the chanel symbol sparkling gold underneath the now warm lights above you. for a split second you wondered if the bag was an homage to jeno— his hair was about the same colour as the bag, and he was never in anything but gold jewelry. that would be too ridiculous, right?

“do you like it?” jaemin whispered, his hand tracing up and down your forearm. you sobbed, of course you liked it; of course you undeniably loved it. “this bag is much too perfect for me. i want you guys to return it—” jeno tsked at you, “rabbit, no one is going to return anything, don’t be so silly. you deserve this. so much.”

your head shook profusely; yes, your dream bag sat between your hands, but you’d always kind of imagined it being a gift from you to you. things like these; things that more than half of the world would never think to justify buying, ought to be worked for and really fought for. only then were they an achievement in your eyes.

“i love you guys, but no. i’m sorry, i won’t take it.” jaemin’s neck rolled in acknowledgement— the bag had been jeno’s idea in the first place and he knew you wouldn’t have been well disposed towards it, but he chose not to dwell on that. they both ditched their insistent tones from then onward.

everybody else had gone back to drinking, dancing or gossiping. leaving you, jeno and jaemin huddled up on a couch which was way too small to accommodate the amount of manspreading that was happening.

“i’m going to go and find some drinks, do you guys want anything?” jaemin stretched when he got up, linen dress shirt riding up; highlighting the creaminess of the skin on his stomach. “i’d love a rum and coke, please jaem,” you must have spaced out because you looked back to find both of them looking at you intently, “oh, i’d love a lemonade, please,” jaemin nodded and soon the living room door was slammed shut.

“i’m sorry about the fact that i— we you that bag, rabbit, i mean jaemin tried to talk me out of it, but i wouldn’t take no for an answer. i had no idea that-” you decided to save yourself the humbling embarassment, “jeno, it’s okay, really. i just—” but jeno was just as stubborn as you, if not more.

“no, i had no idea that doing things like that in your own way was so important to you, so forgive me for undermining you.” his eyes were darker thanks to the lack of light left to absorb, you were far away from pink and purple strobe lights, or even bathroom overheads for that matter.

his midnight black hair remained stable, barring a few wrecked strands that had been put out of place thanks to jaemin’s fiddling and the smell of his cologne was too minty, too intoxicating, too heavy; you felt like you’d already had five shots of sambuca.

in all this admiring, you’d forgotten that you were meant to reply to what he had said. “jeno, it’s okay. i take no offense to any of it, and i’m sorry that i didn’t accept it, and i’m sorry if it embarassed you. i know it probably embarassed jaemin,” his warm, stupidly warm, right hand came to caress your cheek, “if you carry on talking so badly about your actions and whatever the fuck then i swear i am taking you to that dance floor and break dancing and making you join me, rabbit.”

you reluctantly leaned into his touch— the reluctancy came from the fact that you knew this was the first sign post directed toward something awfully conflicting and exciting and risky; there had always been the idea of you and jeno in your head, but nowadays it felt more tangible, more delectable.

since there was the tiny bit of extra room on the couch, jeno’s head found home on your thighs and you slouched further down, searching for that comfortable spot between sitting down and laying down. your hands found home in jeno’s once perfectly put together hair.

“if you ever saw an old man doing a handstand in the street, no zimmerframe in sight and the most fugly shoes ever, would you join him, jen?” that was the question that tickled him the most. so much he had tears in his eyes when he eventually got his answer out of his throat.

“of course i would, i might even like offer to buy him better shoes- if he’d be down for that type of thing,” you gasped, “he doesn’t need charity, jeno, he just likes to do handstands with fugly shoes. there’s no shame in that, right?”

jeno squinted at you from where he lay, left hand playing with the rings on the middle and index fingers of his right hand. “of course there’s no shame in that at all, rabbit. i don’t judge, you of all people should know that,”

“hey, can i ask you something?” you swallowed the granny smith apple sized lump in your throat, eyes getting wider, “why does everyone call you rabbit?” you think a part of jeno knew you expected him to ask something else, so maybe the smirk he soon gained was due to the fact that he effortlessly kept you on your toes.

“uh, i’m not actually that sure. jaemin had a pet rabbit when he was younger and one of the first things he said to me when he spoke to me for the first time was something along the lines of, “your nose is just like my rabbits,” you did your best to imitate baby jaemin’s voice.

one of jeno’s eyebrows was stuck pointing upward, in the direction of the arm of the couch. “and in all of the years you guys have been friends, he never thought to call you anything else?” you wondered why the little, most miniscule things mattered to him at times, “i don’t know jeno, but i don’t mind it. much better than something like donkey, cheeseball, or like something even more lame, right?”

“i don’t know… if it had been me i could’ve thought of like a hundred different, more flattering things to call you,” you swallowed thickly, he had to stop doing this to you, surely he knew what power he held in his eyes and in those hands, and—

“have you and jaemin ever got into arguments and broken up- like i mean, stopped being friends?” he’d never been this nosy, ever, but you decided to indulge him. you had nothing to lose. “well before you came along, we fought like cat and dog. i think there was a different thing to be mad about everyday when it came to either one of us. sometimes, even now jaemin is so close minded that it irks me, and sometimes the way he views the world makes absolutely no sense at all to me. and at times, he may bring out the worst in me, which i’m not the most proud about.”

the vibration of the base of whatever song was playing was still thumping through the couch and into your veins, but jeno listened intently. “don’t take any of this the wrong way, i mean i’d gladly say all of this to his face; not that i haven’t before,” he laughed then, getting up so you two could switch places. you took out your dangly earrings and let them drop to the floor, beside the forgotten piña colada circa two hours ago.

jeno’s legs were much more chunkier than yours, they were so stable and firm but you still found comfort in them. his hand hesitated, dangled in front of your face but he bit the bullet and traced your hairline with multiple fingers. “i told you, i don’t judge. even if i do judge, i don’t judge you,”

you smiled and exhaled, “what made you guys break up with each other?” “there was more than one time, jen, pick a year, month, hell even a week,” his eyes nearly popped out of his head, as if to ask you why you were still stuck to jaemin like glue. “i thought you said you weren’t going to judge!”

he laughed and tilted his head to the side with pursed lips, as if to digress, insisting for you to carry on. “okay, one of the most notable times is probably the one where he used me to get his first kiss just so he could go and kiss sakura… that one really infuriated thirteen year old me,”

jeno chuckled, shaking his head, “what an absolute ass ache, eh?” yes, jaemin was an ass ache, but he was also the only friend that ever stuck. you’d spent years throwing different ideas; trios, best friends, study buddies, at the wall, but nothing ever stuck to said wall. jaemin did.

“i think there’s a certain age where everything is coming at you from all directions, right? well, when i was that age, jaemin just so happened to metaphorically fly into my life through all the chaos. and when you spend so many years with someone; even if it’s just sitting next to them in class as you and i also did, you develop a type of love with them,” you swallowed and clocked back into the present, cringing at the fact that you’d gone on a tangent.

jeno looked up at you then with some glint of admiration in his eyes, “you know, i never thought of it like that before, rabbit,” you shrugged, “i mean, you don’t have to understand what i’m saying and i’m certainly not putting all of my philosophy on you, i mean, i just-”

“stop justifying yourself for things that need no justification. i get what you’re saying,”

“well, anyway, i think somehow jaemin and i always find our way back to each other; not even in a love love way, i think we are just bound to be friends or never escape each other, y’know?”

“tell me, rabbit, do you think we, too, are bound to never escape each other?” you don’t know when you sat up, or when all your weight was spread out across jeno’s manspreading legs, but you couldn’t let yourself falter; or indulge in what was occuring here.

“things like these are luck, jeno. sometimes even the things that we want so bad refuse to stick or constantly cut their ties, don’t you think? time will tell, jen,” jeno was confused as to how you held so much insight on the world while being the same age as him. the most extensive thing he thought about was his meal plan for the week; to him, love was still just a four letter word.

“then i hope luck is on my side, rabbit.”

there was no clock in sight, but if you had to guess, another hour had probably passed by the time jaemin returned. “hey, sorry, luna had me doing the worm with no shoes and we were trying to backflip off of the dinner table, but i’m here now, with drinks, but we should totally moonbathe on those deckchairs outside, guys, whaddya think?!”

the cool air kissed your skin as you laid back on the middle deckchair. “how do you think sixteen is going to treat you?” jeno questioned as he laid to the left of you, jaemin laid to the right. you thought about his question deeply; or at least you tried to think about it deeply.

“it’s going to be different than anything before, that’s for certain. i’m really excited to graduate sixthform and i just hope above all else— we stay as close as we are and that nothing and no one ruins what we have. i hate to sound so morbid but sometimes i have this crippling fear that something deranged like an unstoppable meteor will drag us away from each other.”

jeno noticed, silently, that jaemin brought out the innocent side of you; the side that didn’t have any walls, fronts or borders. jeno decided, silently, that he wanted to work to gain that side of you too.

“i think you class as one of the worlds top two overthinkers, rabbit. didn’t anyone ever tell you to live in the now, and cherish it?” jaemin- carefree and happy go lucky jaemin laughed at the beginning of the sentence, and although what he was saying was true- to some degree, you were curious.

“who’s the other overthinker- oh, jeno…” your words died in your throat, of course it was jeno. “bingo,” jeno whispered gently, and you bit back your blushy smile. “it’s difficult to cherish the now sometimes, jaem. and besides, rabbit has a point, the idea of unavoidable catastrophic events give me intense heebeejeebees too!”

“you guys… i don’t think another dinosaur wipe-out will happen while we are alive and walking the earth. and even if it does, what can you do to change it? just accept your fate…” you all groaned simaultaneously, “that’s the problem, we can’t do anything to change it and that’s why it worries us so much!”

“okay, i promise you both whatever happens; if something like this does ever occur, i solemnly swear that i will drop everything i am doing to come and find you two and we can all die together, okay? and don’t give me retort about there not being enough time to drive to you guys before the meteor hits or whatever. remember i have f1 on my xbox!”

you couldn’t help but laugh at that. and your fear may have even been distinguished a little. just a smidge. “i also pledge to this, rabbit,” jeno said.

you don’t see how jaemin acts when he is truly in love until you’re all eighteen and he acquires himself a girlfriend. not just any girl, and not just any friend. luna park, of all people in the big, large, protrudingly wide world.

“so you’re telling me… for all those years he walked you home, slept over, looked out for you, took your detentions for you, you never looked up at him like, ‘oh. i might love you now’?” luna folded the brownie batter in on itself about fifteen times during her vigorous interrogation.

she had, “a really fat crush on jaemin and i truly can’t hold it in for any longer, rabbit!” and was, not only asking for your blessing, but making sure that in your heart of hearts that jaemin really was up for grabs.

you couldn’t sit there and claim that there wasn’t currently a giant wedge cracked open within you upon her confession, but you also knew that jaemin and you could never work. the stars would never align in your favor; you were too hot-headed and he was too stubborn. the length his patience could often stretch to often brought out the most irritable version of yourself.

which is why; despite the flickers of the future you see when you blink, i.e luna in a wedding dress, jeno as the best man, the words “i object!” being yelled by somebody who looks an awful lot like you, you bite onto kindness and selflessness for one rare occasion.

“luna, in my heart of hearts, you should absolutely go for it. we’re more like siblings anyways. i mean sometimes, i really feel like bashing his head into next week-” your ramblish web of lies died at the sound of luna’s squeals. “oh, rabbit! you don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

jeno ate the last slice of the cookie dough brownie pie that you and luna had previously made. your f🐇cking slice, may you add. “you are a pig. an absolute giant pig, jeno. that was my slice!” your hair was being fiddled with aggressively with your fingers as a way to deal with the fury you currently felt pulsing through your veins.

“my compliments to the chef,” he winked at you, midnight black hair gelled back leaving his drool-worthy forehead on full display. if you hadn’t have been bombarded by luna’s love confession, you may have even indulged all your jeno painted fantasies.

“y’know rabbit, i really do believe that four is a crowd.” jaemin and luna were outside in jeno’s back garden which was more like a back field, it’s wide expanse and never ending green that was slowly dying into black thanks to the moon rising.

they sat next to each other on one of the chairs that had been meticulously placed by most likely an interior designer, definitely not jeno, and you felt unsettled. envy held it’s hands tightly around your neck and you wondered for a split moment. you wondered and it happened.

jaemin looked straight into your eyes, he looked back at you after you had spent a solid five minutes looking at him. his reciprocation did not last long though, and probably meant nothing. and so began the most benign, stupid game known to man.

you know?! that game you just always have to play when you like someone? every little thing they do has to have a magnifying glass held up to it when recounting events and occurences; as though it becomes a filthy habit, a ritual of some sorts.

“can i tell you a secret, jen?” he looked at you with an enticing gaze, waiting for you to spill the beans, “i agree, i know we should be happy for them both. hell, she’s my best friend and she is such an angel and i know jaemin deserves someone as good as her, but what a f🐇cking spanner.” aka luna is the spanner in the works of your trio.

one of the things that stuck you to jeno like superglue was the fact that he posessed zero judgement; you never knew where his moral compass began and ended. you could fart in his face, do a handstand with dirty shoes in his freshly detailed mercedes benz and you could then bet your arm on the fact that said actions wouldn’t move a hair on his head.

“he’s only like that with you, rabbit. do you remember when he shunned his ex bestfriend for three months over literally no big deal? what about the time when he punched this one guy for merely making a joke that landed wrong,” jaemin had said to you once over a serving of raspberry gelato. and you know? you never believed it to be true until now.

you were calling your luna a spanner, and putting your selfishness on a huge fashion show statured runway. had you no shame? “i know. i know just how you feel, rabbit. but nothing will ever come between us, no matter how big or small. i won’t let it, so don’t worry, okay?”

oh, how those words did not ring true and would march on to eat the very dust that settled around them.

your first time seeing jaemin, and jaemin alone was on the drive back to jeno’s place after you’d finished your shift at monkey’s magical pizzeria™️. you gritted your teeth at the universe for letting this stupid situation take place while you were in a bright yellow button up shirt that had monkey heads dotted all around it.

what held space in the air around you and jaemin was not quite judgement, but an underlying cringe serenaded the air that sat doormant between the two of you. “so, uh, how was your shift?’ conversation that once flowed like tap water trickled down the steering wheel in metaphorical droplets. you could hardly hear yourself think over this song that was playing way too loud, with bass digging into your shoulders.

“it wasn’t too bad for a weekend, i guess!” jaemin’s brain must have been further away than he would care to admit because only then when he recognised he couldn’t hear you did he turn the volume dial twice, all the way to the left, veins on his hands lingering and being illuminated thanks to the few street lights.

you pleaded with the powers that be to turn the deadbeat, bozo song all the f🐇cking way up so as to let the air die, “earth to rabbit! ever since i got with luna you’ve been avoiding me like the plague or like my butt is ridiculously hairy!” he began to pull over and you craved biting your cuticles clean off as a coping mechanism.

“if you keep this car stationary for more than two minutes, jeno’s gonna see on life360 and question why you aren’t escorting me back to where, i, am, meant, to, be!” you gritted your teeth at him, pulling your hair up in a claw clip; your anger was too mighty, too heavy for you to be able to sit there and look somewhat beautiful.

“excuse me, you fat monkey,” he flicked one of the monkey’s on the sleeve of your shirt, “you were my best friend before you were anyone else’s. i’m not even turning the ignition back on until you start talking.” you groaned painfully; why did he have to say such beautiful sounding things?

“jaemin,” you sighed, heavily, maybe purposefully, “this is really stupid. if anything, you’re the one who’s been hangning us out to dry! luna takes up literally ninety percent of your world now… and that’s great, i mean if you’re happy then i am happy for you. what i’m saying is, in all my seven years of knowing you, the idea of you having a girlfriend in your life is something i have never had to get used to. forgive me for taking some time to find my footing, you big cockroach.”

jaemin huffed, definitely not satisfied with your answer in the slightest way. “now listen to me and listen well, rabbit. i hold you and jeje in about as high regard as i hold my luna.” his luna?! you bit back your vomit with gritted teeth, “things will fall back into place eventually, rabbit.”

that night in jeno’s house, in his black and gold marble tiled bathroom, you may have sobbed your heart out. were you greiving the innocence of your long lost childhood? the past where you were all once much more carefree and devoted to your friendship? it for sure, and definite was not for the reason you readers are thinking it to be.

you had little space and time to dwell as soon exam season hang around your neck like one of jeno’s heavy gold chains. the crispy, boiling summer heat was sitting at your finger tips, begging for the boring stuff like school work and exams to be over.

you were willing to push all of your recent woes to the side for the summer and embrace jaemin, jeno and luna for whatever it was worth. life was too short, right? when you finished your english exam, jeno was waiting outside with a takeaway matcha in his left hand, with your government name written on it. sans rabbit.

you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t swell at the sight. after jaemin acquired luna, your dynamic had changed altogether. things didn’t fall back into place, everyone just adapted to the way jaemin wanted to live his life. and as a result, you and jeno were pushed closer together.

“an iced vanilla ube matcha for one very special rabbit,” he spoke, holding the drink out to you. you smiled up at him, coffee coloured eyes hidden behind a pair of prada sunglasses. “to what do i owe the pleasure?” you asked, taking the first sip.

he pushed his sunglasses up to rest on the crown of his head then, hair pushed back and beautiful face framed perfectly. “well, luna invited us to a pool party that she’s throwing and i thought you’d like,”

“you got me this to soften the blow, right?” you huffed, getting riled up at the fact that, “he didn’t even have the balls to invite us himself? what could he possibly be doing that’s so chaotic he couldn’t even text one of us to invite us?!” and jeno cringed. matcha couldn’t pacify your temper, much to his dismay.

“i don’t know why he’s going out of his way to be this extra, rabbit. my final assumption is that he got too anxious about the IT exam he has on friday and just went totally AWOL on everyone except luna.” your head tilted to the side upon hearing jeno’s assumption.

“you’ve heard from him recently, then?” your heart was actively in the process of being excavated, “well, i mean the last time i heard from him was saturday… when was the last time he text-” but you decided to put a stop to all construction workers, “it doesn’t really matter, so long as he’s talking to one of us. if he’s happy then that’s all that matters to me. are you gonna go to the party?”

jeno held the fire escape door wide open for you to walk through comfortably, and the june sun illuminated your face in a way that made his heart race. “well, you ask this as if you have a choice as to whether you go or not. rabbit, we’re in this together for real now; if it wasn’t for real before. wherever i go, you go… and vice versa.”

and friends, for the first time in history, there was an underlying certainty that lingered in jeno’s statement. you decided to go along with it, and embrace the idea of having somebody so ride-or-die in your life. the double tied ties that once bound you to jaemin firmly began to loosen up, ever so slightly.

you didn’t want to wear a bathing suit to a benign pool party, but what else was there to wear? a scuba suit? after pacing around your room for two hours, you finally settled on a one piece with a baby pink halter neck and one singular tie at the back, it would do for whatever stupid socializing needed to be done.

you put on some white platform flipflops, your prada sunglasses (a birthday gift from your jeno,) and let your hair down; ironically so. you huffed and puffed on the idea of what bag to bring— honk honk!

jeno was waiting outside, so you grabbed your small pink clutch and threw everything that was in your vicinity inside. you ran, to the best of your ability, down the stairs and oepned the front door, already feeling the bass from jeno’s a180 and instead of cringing the way you usually did, your grin grew wider.

“hey! i forgot to say it earlier, but congratulations on finishing your exams, rabbit. welcome to the summer,” he kissed your cheek after you put your seatbelt and you may have blushed, but you chose not to acknowledge it. “thank you, jeje… i’m so glad that it’s over for at least these three months, like i won’t have to smell mister rozanov’s ugly morning breath every tuesday for a while… and that feels pretty good.”

you placed your hands in the center of your lap; for some reason whenever you sat next to jeno, in his car, you didn’t really know what to do with yourself. you’d probably do better being a statue in a museum… it might have been due to the way he only steered with one hand, and the way he was constantly checking his rear view mirror.

when you drove, both of your hands were stuck to the wheel; so the trust jeno held within himself and his reflexes was mesmorising at times. “what are you looking at, rabbit?” god strike you down this instant! “do you think your reaction time and reflexes are that refined to be driving one-handed with i, rabbit, in the car?” jeno’s tongue poked his cheek at your question.

he knew it was all in good fun, which is why, “do you trust me, rabbit?” he took only one second; stuck in traffic, to let himself look into your eyes. you felt yourself falling; on a very thin line. “yes jeno, i do.” even though he was no longer looking at you, you saw the smirk on his face and the steady swallow of his saliva.

“then enough; we have a pool party to get to- and also, i would never put myself in danger, let alone you.” you laughed then, looking out the window at the sight of the suddenly wealthy neighbourhood. he always hit the nail on the head, and never missed a beat.

“i never knew luna lived in this part of town; she’s on par with my richness, rabbit!” you rolled your eyes, but took time to admire the boderline mansions that decorated the sides of the street. you could tell what house was luna’s thanks to the obnoxiously big painted poster, ‘WELCOME TO SUMMER, LFUE BITCHES’.

“well, you certainly can’t buy class, rabbit.” jeno sighed as he began to parallel park opposite the house. you held in your laugh but nodded; to some degree he had a point… and you felt as though you had a right to agree with him.

fleetwood mac cascaded across the countless acres of land that were home to the pool party. it was more like a public swimming pool with the giant vastness of it and the amount of amenities it provided. there were somehow waterpark slides that didn’t look entirely out of place, an array of speakers with a ‘dj’ placed up on a platformed booth.

palm trees, whicker furniture and blown up sofas and beanbags. basically if a storage unit threw up on luna’s whole field, the sight before you would be the result. bubble machines, flourescent lights that couldn’t be seen in the daylight but were still on full beam anyway.

as you searched for more to internally pick at, you laid eyes on him. your estranged best friend, posted up by a palm tree with one arm around luna’s waist, laughing at one of jeno’s jokes. you physically scratched your head then; how come jeno was allowed to stand around jaemin and crack fat ones and was answered to when engaging in conversation?

you must have been scratching your head for about two minutes, “i think whatever you were trying to get out of your hair is gone and dead by now,” someone who you believed to be called donghyuck spoke from behind you. you turned around to look at him.

your height difference was nearly non existent, but you still had to somewhat look up at him. his eyes were brown like milk chocolate, and the sun was working overtime to make them look even more alluring than they actually were. his smile was welcoming and friendly. friendly; that’s what you needed most as of late.

“donghyuck, right?” you held out your right hand for him to shake, missing the way he examined your gel manicure like a particularly tuned connoiseur. “i prefer haechan, actually. feels less governmental in a sense,” you may have laughed; and you may have even found him funny.

his hair was a dark brown that complimented the perfectly toasted shade of his skin, and his smile was persistent as he looked at you, “i’m [y/n], but jaem and jeno call me rabbit and so everyone calls me rabbit.”

“rabbit! there you are!” your veins warmed at the familiarity in that voice. if you’d been wearing your fuzzy pink house slippers, your toes might’ve had a cheeky curl. donghyuck died a quick death at that voice. your head whipped round to lay eyes on where jaemin was coming from when he said your name.

he was closer to you than you’d thought, standing next to jeno by one of the many pop-up bars. you would’ve flown there if you could’ve. “uh- donghyuck, i’ll see you” - “around?” - “yeah, around…”

your hair may have whipped donghyuck’s face as you turned around, but your march was determined as you made your way back to your old familiarity. “hey! how are you? it feels like- well, it has been forever since i’ve heard from you and seen you.” jaemin pulled you into a hug; and for a moment it was as though he was holding you up with the way you melted into his touch.

“oh, i know. i just figured with work and school and exams; i barely had time to scratch my ass. and also you were busy with luna a lot anyway, and i didn’t want to take away from the break you could’ve spent with her.” you would not be defeated by how your heart felt. looking up at his gentle eyes that were framed with his gorgeously delectable hair, you knew you would not fold.

sometimes respect ought to come before love. not sometimes, always.

you could see the gears of his mind working overtime to pick a word to start a fight over, but jeno was your saving grace. he took your sunhat off as the sun was now nearly gone, smoothing down your hair.

now, at the sight of jeno’s hands on you, jaemin may have clenched his fist and thought about different ways to discreetly incapacitate a big, hunky six foot three inch man, but this could entirely be hearsay on my behalf. ;)

“i see that our rabbit has had the pleasure of meeting lee donghyuck, heh?” jaemin might’ve exploded. “you should be wary of him, rabbit, do you remember when he shit himself in the sixth grade? how does one come back from that?” you wanted to laugh, but you decided to ignore him.

“he doesn’t seem that bad, jeje. do you like him?” you asked, looking between the two of your best friends. jeno shrugged, “i mean, i don’t think shitting your pants is a great big of a deal… i think we all might have done different, more worse things,” you laughed and he was then walking away, you presumed to hunt donghyuck down.

“really, so you’re just going to ignore me for the whole night now?” bitterness wrapped around jaemin’s words like a python. you rolled your eyes, “really? the same way you’ve been ignoring me for months, with no explanation, might i add. you expect me to treat you with respect just because you suddenly feel like remembering who i am?”

his eyebrows pressed down hard on his eyelids, “i was going through stuff that i didn’t want to drag you into, i thought it would be way too unfair!” you groaned, “are you f🐇cking kidding me, fatso? drag me- unfair- are you even hearing yourself? jaemin, i was your best friend, how could you be dragging me through your trials and tribulations? they would have been mine to face too!”

jeno remained silent when you stood on your soap box. but the heavy past tense on, “i was your best friend,” hammered into his head. this was like a giant game of jenga, and jaemin had just pulled out one of the most stupid oblongs. out of all to choose, how low could he go?

you must have been very close to crying if you weren’t already, because he reaches out to wipe a tear off of your cheek. it doesn’t last for long, and despite the summer heat you lean into his touch. “i’m sorry, [y/n]. truly,”

he pushed his hair out of his face then, to get a good look at you, “i know this isn’t the best place to hang our dirty washing out, but can we just agree to be cool until we can talk about everything?” and you bit back your smile when you answered, “okay, jaem. sure.” which was so out of your nature.

“guys! look who i scouted out,” jeno stumbled back into the little space you and jaemin had been occupying, and donghyuck was in a headlock in jeno’s right arm. you gulped at the bulge of his biceps, “jeno, maybe don’t try to strangle him out of excitement,” you spoke cautiously in an attempt to save donghyuck from an untimely demise.

why are donghyuck and popping ones clogs always in the same sentence, dear rabbit?

donghyuck coughed half a lung up when he was freed from the shackles of jeno’s strength and by that time both you and jaemin couldn’t help but laugh together. he leant into you as he laughed, but you soon packed it all up.

“are you okay, donghyuck? do you need a drink or something?” he looked down at you as though you were a magical angel, “no, i’m fine. thanks for saving me, arc angel rabbit,” you rolled your eyes.

“haechan, do you remember when you shit yourself in sixth grade?” it was jeno’s turn to laugh then, but he held the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb. “jaem, just drop it bro… why is this such a big deal to you?” donghyuck just rolled his eyes, “hey jaem, where’s your girl at?” you swallowed the lump in your throat as donghyuck placed an arm around your shoulder.

jaemin didn’t say anything and you contemplated how much better you would feel if the ground were to swallow you up… “y’know, i do want to be a part of this trio ordeal you’ve got going on, so yes jaemin, i do remember when i shat my pants in sixth grade… i found out that i’m incredibly lactose intolerant the hard way. happy?”

“there, was that really so difficult?” jaemin partronised him with the way his head was tilted to the side, beckoning donghyuck to say something borderline disrespectful. “who shit in your cornflakes today jaem, nevermind haechan shitting his pants, your mood stinks!” donghyuck thanked jeno for sticking up for him, and to this day you’re still not quite sure what he must have been thinking.

were you guys always like this? was this some weird roleplay he just happened to walk in upon? jeno stormed off shortly after that, leaving donghyuck to look at his now grass stained beige gazelles. “jaemin, your attitude stinks. and what is this weird obsession with shitting and shit and shitting shit shitty shit all of a sudden?” you huffed and shook your head profusely, “donghyuck, we weren’t actively hiring for a fourth person to join our friend group, but if you wish to join you are more than welcome,”

of course, if this was all occuring a few years ago, donghyuck would not be welcome; nobody would be welcome for that matter. the doors of your pretty little pink bubble would’ve been barricaded with industrial locks and chair backs. but you, in your recent age, decided it would be better to go with the grain rather than against it.

donghyuck’s courage may have turned the tides in his favor when it came to how you viewed him, “and, you are really courageous for retelling the story of the time you shat your pants… i think i would’ve really liked a bit more back story though,” you smiled, walking away from him to catch up to jeno who had gone on a walk- more than likely having ended up at the open bar.

you heard donghyuck’s burst of laughter and it itched your brain in an addicting way.

you lay eyes on the black haired, heavily muscled, prada wearing jeno of yours, “do you know what’s gotten into him, jeje? he seems so out of it,” you waited in line with him. “rabbit, are you for real? he saw you again for the first time in like two months and nearly died because of how beautiful you look. do not feed me with your usual näive bullshit, okay?”

you debated flicking the back of his head, but decided to be the better person, “i was just aksing for your opinion, monkey. and i wasn’t fishing for anything, but thanks?” and concluded that maybe jeno was just too focused on locking in his fourth double shot of captain morgan and cola to actually comprehensively analyse the situation.

there was no way that jaemin showing off like a two year old tantrum-riddled toddler was thanks to seeing you again. but the innocent angel on your shoulder begged for you to imagine what might come of you two if he had the courage to ever speak up and tell you that you looked pretty in your annoyingly itchy swimsuit.

“i’m sure you’ve heard this before, but denial is a river, rabbit.” you disregarded his comment with the words that were spoken with such dryness, “i really, really like this song, d’you wanna dance?” you extended an olive branch in an attempt to diffuse the way captain morgan had gone straight through his stomach right to his veins.

the bass pumped your veins and the vibrations trickled up through your dior wedges as he took your hand, crunching the red solo cup with his right hand, throwing it into the trash bag without any extra effort exuded.

hot. you thought, but you’d never say that. “i never pinned you,” he stutters as he acknowledges the stature of what he said, “i mean, i never pinned you as the type to like esdeekid…?” you laughed, there was still a small window of time for you to talk before you had to recite word for word.

“why? not polite enough?” you tilted your head with inquisition and all he did was copy you.

somehow the next song rolled into jeno’s favourite and by then you were surrounded by all your bananas, except for one you didn’t recognise. well, you’d recognised him— his biceps, around campus or in hallways, but you had no name for the peculiar face.

“hi, [y/n]” the bicep guy knew your name?! your head twitched at the speed you’d turned around to acknowledge the fact that he knew your name; your government name. ‘rabbit’ had become more than a middle name after hearing it for years on end. this felt good for you, it felt refreshing.

if you weren’t borderline tipsy, you’d see the way jeno’s expression turned into an absolute puzzled and lost one. in his deep baritone voice, who did this guy think he was?

“i’m jisung park. like donghyuck’s bestfriend, casually the best football player there is, y’know…” you smiled at him and shook his hand at the fade out of the song, “get in line, brother,” jeno spoke with a firm smile and nod of his head.

“i’ve seen your arm— i mean, i’ve seen you around… nice to meet you!” god, rabbit, you may as well have worn a ‘i’m thirsty for your biceps’ burger king crown on your head. good save, you thought to yourself.

₊⋆·˚🍌.‧₊˚ 🙉༉‧₊˚.

jeno’s benz had never been more packed with people. he was so tempted to strap donghyuck to the roof with a seatbelt, but you convinced and pleaded for him not to do so. thus, you and jeno were comfortable and fluid with movement in the front while luna sat on jaemin’s lap, donghyuck sat squished in the middle and jisung nearly stuck to the window. they all fit though, and that was the main thing.

“froyo baby, here we come!” your froyo obsession had become a contagious disease amongst all of your bananas. jeno was prone to white chocolate and kiwi, and you’d never really paid any mind to what the others liked to order.

“holy fucking balls, jeno, i just whacked my head on your stupid car window!” jisung groaned and donghyuck snickered at him. “that’s not my problem, dude, sit differently then,” jeno’s response was flat, “are you okay jisung, do you want to swap?” you asked, turning around to look at him.

donghyuck’s hair was pointing in every direction because all of the windows were open when jeno had been going ninety kilometers per hour, but somehow jisung’s looked perfect. “y’know rabbit, if you were anybody else i would jump at the chance. but thank you honey,”

all of your body was being pulled forward and then backward; jeno had slammed on the breaks. “if we knocked on your fucking head would your brain just echo the fucking sound of the knock? what the fuck is wrong with you, jeno?”

“not cool, dude!” jisung held a different part of his head in pain and you looked at jeno with your head titled. what was he playing at? he copied the way you were looking at him with a pout and the darkness in his eyes suggested something along the lines of jealousy… but maybe he just hated terms of endearment.

you eventually made it to the froyo shop with all parties intact and no knocked heads or missing braincells.

“do you have any idea of what you want to do in the future, rabbit?” donghyuck questioned as he dug his spoon further into his XXL cup. what a good question— one you still had no answer to. “well, when i was younger i wanted to be a pilot but thinking of it now, it’s just too long winded. too involved, too much commitment and i don’t think i can bring that to the table. ants in my pants; i’m prone to that.”

“well, we all know that jeno’s going to be a CEO in some famous company, luna’s going to be a fashion designer, jisung a professional footballer, what do you want to be in the future, haechan?” jaemin asked, once full cup now empty with a napkin scrunched inside.

had he always been this annoying? why did he have to speak for everyone all the time? you looked away from him and laid eyes on jeno instead. to your surprise he was already watching you, and rolled his eyes for a split second as if to convey to you that he knew just how you felt.

“i don’t actually wanna be a footballer, i want to be a personal trainer. like i love the idea of helping people who want to better themselves,” jisung spoke, to which you stuck your bottom lip out and nodded.

“tell us, haechan, what would you like to do?” luna spoke, holding onto jaemin’s hand and caressing it gently. you wished then that jeno’s mercedes could fly so that you could run outside and fly away from the shambles that this froyo outing had become.

“rabbit, can i actually talk to you outside for a second, please? like would you do me the honor?” the most insufferable person sitting on the table spoke up, jaemin, and it seemed like there was no universe in which saying “no,” seemed effective. he was already out of his chair, and you looked to jeno; as though it was a reflex, expecting to see some sort of distaste in his face.

but there was nothing of the sort, just an encouraging nod. you huffed, “jaemin, this better be good if you’re making me walk all the way outside for it,” jaemin headed out first, holding the door open for you momentarily.

your body felt the transition of cooling AC to humid, sweaty air. and you hated it, and you could feel yourself getting annoyed and agitated and pressed and just about everything negative under the sun. “get it over with, spit it out, whatever stupid shit you have to say!”

you rested all your weight on one of your hips as you tapped your right foot on the ground. “i just wanted to say to you that i am truly sorry for ignoring you the way i did for all those months, especially after i basically lied to your face by telling you that things would fall back into place. and it’s still not lost on me, the way you used the past tense when referring to me as your best friend and that hurt me way more than i thought it would. and if that’s how you feel then i get it, but please know i didn’t want to be the guy who constantly complains and wallows in the most ridiculous sh!t. you deserved more than to listen to me contemplate the entire meaning of life and learn how to be in a relationship and accept the idea of falling in love and whatever else there was. i am so happy that you had jeno to keep you company, and i know that you two are closer now for it. but i want you to know that i’m sorry that i disrespected you. if you ever feel as though you could slide back into your old place, right here, next to my heart, then it will be open for you, rabbit,”

there was this chip on your shoulder that you carried through your life, that sometimes, more often than not, shot you in the foot. because jaemin had done this once now, there was no telling that he wouldn’t do it again, or even something along the same lines of it. you didn’t tear up the way you imagined you would in your head when you played this out in your head for so many nights in a row.

“jeno is doing a pretty good job of being my best friend as of late, jaem. but if you’re really sorry, like deeply in the pit of your heart, then i’m willing to forgive you.” before you could come up with any more digs, “do you want me to beg on the pavement, knees and all, rabbit?” you nodded, morefool jaemin.

you burst out laughing as he huffed and began to kneel down. you weren’t going to save him from this, you were going to watch this and enjoy every moment of it. one knee hit the grubby pavement, and you felt your miniscule ego being stroked.

the other knee hit then too, “rabbit, i am so sorry for having hurt you so deeply. i love you and i will never hurt you again, i swear,” you took his words for gospel, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. before you continued to enjoy the sight below you, you looked to the froyo shop’s window to see jeno watching.

your heart swirled and for mere seconds it felt like old times all over again.

“thank you, jaemin. apology accepted.” he went on to kiss the tips of your shoes and you nearly peed your pants thanks to the intensity of your laughter. how ridiculous, how dumb was he, how dumb did he look!?

“i love you, rabbit.” he said gently, dusting off his knees as he was in an upright position by then. “i know you do, you knelt on the bare pavement for me,” you stomped one of your heels into the bare concrete in amusement, trying to stabilise yourself after laughing half of your heart out.

“jaemin, now your pants look like you were the one that shit themselves, beware of the self-depricating jokes you’re about to overdose on!” donghyuck’s left arm cascaded across your shoulder blades as he joined in on the laughter.

donghyuck’s warmth shouldn’t have radiated off of him the way it did, and you shouldn’t have felt a streak of resolve thanks to the idea of jaemin being humbled by the mere idea of shitting his pants, but here you were.

your hand trembled slightly as you made your way to hold his fingers, “haechan, at least the shit in my pants is worth something, unlike yours,” the air twisted into something sticky and awkward, and jaemin’s white linen pants were now grey where the kneecaps were concerned.

“minnie, what on earth are you doing on the floor?” luna’s sickly sweet voice poked, and jeno followed out after her and you were gonna explode because they’d left jisung alone yet again. jaemin looked askance, he glanced at you; he was kneeling, one knee up and one knee down, and then glanced to luna.

jeno held his gaze the longest, whatever must’ve been underlying in the stare made jaemin get up and back on his feet, “i was just tying my shoes, lu,” to which jeno scoffed, crossing his arms. you didn’t quite know where to look, the biceps jeno held were nearly streching the sleeves of his white polo-shirt.

luna looked at you sternly, “luna, why would i make him get on the floor… quit cooking me alive with your heinous stares!” and all you could do was wonder why jaemin just couldn’t be honest. he wanted to kneel on the pavement, and why was this just such a big deal?

“well, i dunno, i guess it’s just kinda strange that you guys came outside to talk and next thing i know he’s kneeling on the pavement, getting dirty knees, i mean who knows what you must’ve told him. i think it’s common knowledge that you could say ‘jump, jaemin, jump!’ and he’d say ‘how high?’”

was she for fucking real? you looked at jaemin to find him scratching his head, “are you for real, right now, luna? and you, asshole, why has the cat suddenly got your tongue? reign your fucking girl in, jaemin, i mean it,”

by now, donghyuck had gone back in to sit with jisung, and jeno had edged nearer to you. luna’s jaw was closer to the floor than it was to the full moon, and jaemin was still stuck on mute. what a pathetic excuse of a boyfriend, eh?

all of this to say, whenever you argued or got into some type of discourse with jaemin, it was as though everyone else and everything surrounding you would dissipate into a pool of nothingness. all that existed was both you and jaemin, in a midnight black abyss.

you sensed that jeno was near, but even if he spoke, you aren’t certain you could’ve been able to actually hear him. all you could see was jaemin, all you could feel was feelings based on jaemin. how incredulously stupid.

“luna, i have to say that i do disagree with the claim that jaemin would jump to the milkyway if i asked him to. you of all people would know that something like that is just borderline insane. and also, i was your friend before you even cared that jaemin existed! so it’s nice to know you care for me, thanks,”

you gave yourself permission to tear up at the idea of luna choosing a stupid rock with a cock over you.

luna’s eyeliner began to smudge thanks to the few tears that were gathering in her waterline, grip on her gucci clutch firm and unswaying. “y’know what, jaemin, i actually cannot be asked for you either,”

“i think you’re overreacting, rabbit, i’m sure luna doesn’t mean things in the way that you’re interpreting them as. luna, i was on the floor because it’s an inside joke that goes back years, really, and it means nothing,” it was jeno’s turn to scoff and shake his head in disbelief.

“jaemin, you can put the bow and arrow down, dude, all you’re doing is shooting yourself in the foot double time,” a few stray tears trickled down your face, but you inhaled furiously. your anger was much too loud, bulky and clunky to allow you to wallow in what had happened. luna looked remorseful, as did jaemin, but that wasn’t good enough.

“an inside joke that goes back years? like that makes it so, so much better, dipshit!” you were fairly certain that both luna and jaemin had misplaced their marbles. “jaemin, you’re a joke. you gave donghyuck so much shit for shitting his pants, but all you do is shit on everything you surround yourself with. you are so selfish it sickens me down to my bones and you may scoff and roll your eyes when i tell you that it’s basically common knowledge that you have so much growing up to do.”

luna groaned, “you’re always so insistent on stealing the spotlight, rabbit, give that fat mouth of yours a rest, for christ’s sake!” and you were fairly certain jeno had replied to her, but you were too focused on the look on jaemin’s face.

“i think it’s best that we take jaemin home, and let donghyuck and jisung get you home, lulu. i think time apart is best for everyone right now.” jeno beckoned for both donghyuck and jisung to leave the diner, and they were soon outside too.

“i may as well sit in the fucking trunk, i’d really prefer to be as far away from jaemin as possible, jeje.” you snarled, wiping the corners of your eyes as jeno went to drag jaemin to his mercedes. “rabbit, i am really sorry for all of this,” luna sobbed as she opened the car door, remorseful eyes lingering on you a little longer than normal.

“lulu, i think you’ve said enough for one night,” jisung spoke, pulling you into a side hug before getting in the car too. leaving just you and donghyuck outside, he bounced on his feet as he stared at you, “i’m sorry rabbit, it seems like these days you really can’t catch a break, huh?”

he reached out gently, shakily, to wipe away one stray tear with the pad of his thumb. his touch was testing the waters, but you couldn’t succumb to the feeling calling you.

you cracked a laugh, “i really can’t. and i’m sorry i brought up the whole ‘shitting your pants’ thing again… i feel like that will never, ever die. sorry, hyuck,” and he cracked a smile too, “it’s okay rabbit, i’m just glad you could use it as ammunition,”

his hair looked even more touchable than usual, and if there was a better time and place you’d probably be reaching out to touch it. you stole a glance at his maple syrup coloured biceps and made the executive choice to look away to save yourself the embarassment of drooling in front of not just donghyuck, but all the other bananas you’d forgotten about.

he held his arms out and pulled you in for a hug, and his hug was unlike any you’d received before. jeno’s was homely; the kind you could melt into. donghyucks was firm and unswaying. “maybe text me later so i know that you made it home, okay?”

“[your governmental full name]” you wanted to rip jeno’s eyebrows off for calling you out like that, but donghyuck must have picked up on the underlying tone because he almost instantaneously pulled away from you and got into the drivers seat of his navy blue golf.

“ġejja!” you stormed to the mercedes but opened her passenger door ever so gently. “did we ruin your moment, rabbit?” jaemin asked as if he hadn’t been in an argumental scene with you merely ten minutes beforehand.

jeno scoffed, because he knew the answer to that question was, “yes, jaemin, yes you both did. are you pleased with yourselves?” and the tone you used made jeno press the accelerator that much more. jaemin laughed then, reaching out from the middle seat to caress the loose strands of hair that had escaped out of your braid.

“i am very, very pleased, rabbit.” jeno spoke firmly, turning up the music the tiniest bit. you gritted your teeth then, “i swear to god, if either one of you dare mention that stupid story of the time donghyuck shat his pants ever again, i will lose it,” jaemin and jeno laughed in unison.

“i’m sorry for all of that bullshit back there, rabbit. you know that right?” jaemin spoke cautiously, and jeno rested his left hand on your kneecap. “i know, jaem, i’m really sorry for what i said too.” sometimes the longevity of having known someone automatically outweighs your own morals and standards. this was one of those times.

in jeno’s silent opinion, jaemin deserved to be smacked sideways for letting tonight happen, for not sticking up for you, for kneeling down on the floor for you; the latter was merely due to jealousy. he wanted, and borderline needed to be the only person capable of doing that for you. he wanted to be the only one to stroke your ego and give you that type of satisfaction.

but because jeno admired the way you loved jaemin, he respected the way you chose to tackle situations like these. that was one line jeno would never cross.

“you do one more thing and i will run you over with this car, jaemin, i can promise you that,” you’d forgive him, but you wouldn’t forget all of this. even if it made you rot from the inside out.

₊⋆·˚🍌.‧₊˚ 🐒༉‧₊˚.

the refreshingly cold, diamond blue ocean kissed your skin as you jumped off of the concrete diving board. you sunk down so far, and when you got to the surface you screamed at the temperature piercing your skin.

“you went so far down, rabbit, are you okay?” donghyuck burst out laughing, treading water all the more to stay afloat before he’d sink to the bottom too.

“yeah, i managed to not swallow about ten gallons of sea water, so i’m cool for now,” you swam closer to him, so close he took the risk of resting his hands on your shoulders.

you gulped; his biceps were inches from your face and you wanted nothing more than to grip them. you began to reach out when suddenly, “canonball!” you didn’t even have time to grit your teeth at the meticulousness of jeno, because you were drenched in more seawater. he plummeted right next to you.

when he rose to the surface, he was hugging you from behind. “jeje, what on earth are you doing?!”

he tsked, “unclench your teeth when you talk to me, rabbit,” donghyuck faded away to you because almost instantaneously the only thing on your mind was biting jeno in an attempt to humble him.

but if a seagull were to fly by, they’d see the way haechan was internally kicking himself for not being more bold. jeno was firm with his stare, waiting for haechan to look at him and acknowledge the difference in the way you acted with jeno.

“haechan, i think jisung was looking for you over at the ice cream van, i’m not too sure though.” you rolled your eyes at jeno, because it was so clearly a lie, “well i just saw him sitting in the lifeguard but with kai, i don’t think—“

jeno was staring donghyuck down, and it must have been a powerful enough stare for donghyuck to forget what he was saying, “actually, yeah i might’ve missed him leaving there and going to the van.”

“hey, hyuck i might actually come with you,” you made an attempt to turn around and swim toward the chrome ladder, but your left foot was being pulled back.

donghyuck didn’t linger around waiting for you, he accepted the fact that it was pointless. “i’ll get you an icecream later, rabbit, just stay here with me,” this was wrong, because the tone he was using was inclined to make your heart thump and the ends of your fingers feel like sparkly, static.

you couldn’t hold the intense gaze jeno had on you, extra dark roast espresso eyes reading you like one of your favourite books. you laid on your back in an attempt to float around instead. you exhaled deeply, you could keep your cool rabbit, couldn’t you?

no, you totally could totally not keep your cool. ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆🪽🫧🫯🐇💋‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍

“why are you cockblocking me?” you only had the courage to let those words leave your mouth because you were looking up at the baby blue sky. not for long, because soon his arms were around you as though he was holding you like a bride, looking down at you.

“donghyuck could’ve stayed rabbit, i didn’t do anything to him, did i?” you rolled your eyes, breathing slowly.

“i’m not stupid, jeno. i know what you get like,” he scoffed, “just answer me this, do you really like donghyuck?” eyebrows pressed downward unknowingly displaying his green painted curiousity own toward the seabed were a display of his curiosity.

“canonball!” jaemin’s voice ricocheted across the bay, giving you no chance to answer jeno. when he resurfaced, you swam away from jeno’s grip. “what’s it to you if she does, jen? i think our rabbit is free to like whoever she wants to like, no?”

“thank you, jaemin! yeah jeno, what is it to you?” jeno squinted at both you and jaemin, the same feeling returning in his stomach— the feeling he’d get whenever it felt as though you two were ganging up on him, even if it was in jest. the feeling he’d get whenever all three of you being so close together and in love was so tangible, so near him he could nearly taste it.

but when it came to love, and all the random things inbetween, he felt it better to beat around the bush. the midday sun beamed down on his midnight black hair, to some extent making it glisten as though it was a sparkly night sky.

“i just think you could do better, that’s all, rabbit.” you took a break from admiring jeno to look at the way jaemin was now tilting his head to the side with a tight lipped smile, as if to say jeno did have a point. you barely had time to get the words out of your mouth, but you knew what was coming— you knew jaemin would swim to jeno’s side.

you rolled your eyes, “well i think he’s cute, and he’s funny and he has really good movie reccommendations,” and you weren’t saying any of this with an edge, or in an attempt to make them feel such childish things as jealousy. these days, donghyuck seemed like the better choice out of all the fish in the sea.

“okay jen, we should drop it before she jumps us and like steals our toes or something,” jaemin spoke as he went to float on his back. you could see your fingers getting pruny, “i think i’m going to go and find donghyuck, see you two around?”

jeno huffed and nodded his head and jaemin mumbled some kind of a goodbye or a see you later.