PART 1 OF 2:
HE MOVES IN

 

We're not, no we're not friends, nor have we ever been.
We just try to keep those secrets in a lie,
And if they find out, will it all go wrong?
And Heaven knows, no one wants it to.

— FRIENDS, Ed Sheeran

 

"I didn't want to be a bother. You don't have to take me in."

Mingyu throws him a nasty look as he halts in front of C-97 unit. 

"It's okay, really," Minghao says. Which ultimately goes against everything he looks like right now; luggage in hands containing all of his few belongings and the school backpack slinging across his shoulder. Homeless. Jobless. Helpless. Possibly even pathetic. 

"Being passive-aggressive now is useless, we're already here," Mingyu points out, jiggling his keys out of his pocket and pushing the door open. "And it's not gonna win you pity points."

"I'm not trying to score some pity points from you," Minghao snarls.

The taller steps in and holds his door wider. "Good. Get in."

Minghao steps in. It's not like he has a lot of choice. For now, he has one and that's to do as he is told before the door gets slammed in his face. Knowing this guy in front of him, he'll take any chance he can get to do just that.

"I don't need you to pity me, I can handle myself just fine."

"Sure," Mingyu says, rolling his eyes as he crouches down to undo his laces. "Tell me that again when you get yourself a job and an apartment."

Minghao will. Soon. Very soon. Just he wait.

"You still haven't told me how you lost your job," He adds, placing his sneakers neatly on the small rack by the door. He glances cautiously at the crouching Minghao, almost like a silent demand to do the same with his shoes. Neatly on the rack. Minghao places his on the lowest and tucks the laces in.

"Management issues."

Not really.

But Mingyu doesn't have to know that he got fired for a blunder he didn't commit. He finds it pointless to explain himself to a stranger who will probably judge him for his decisions. It's exhausting to explain it isn't as if he couldn't defend himself, he could've straight out ratted out whoever really did it. The manager would believe him because he knew he wasn't reckless enough to tip a shelf full of china despite his slender, shaky fingers. It's exhausting to explain someone has been clumsy enough to do it and Minghao has been there standing behind her when she tips it, horror-stricken when the stream of dinnerware hits the floor with a loud crash.

He could've ratted her out.

But how could he when that clumsy employee was a pregnant woman whom he had talked to just enough times to know just how unfortunate she were? How could he pin it unto her when he knew very well this job was the only thing keeping her together despite all the that happened to her so far: her of a boyfriend left her after getting her pregnant and abandoned by her parents and friends just because she did out of wedlock.

It was a small mistake—maybe worth a few hundred bucks but it could end everything for her and the baby. When the manager storms into the kitchen yelling at the top of his lungs, he remembers her desperately trying to catch his eyes. Minghao could tell from the fearful, teary eyes she was pleading for a chance. A chance she never had gotten even from her parents and will never get from her enraged manager. A chance she asked of Minghao, a mere stranger whom she shared a few bitter coffee over a couple of breaks.

One chance.

So, Minghao took the fall for the baby and that ultimately got him fired, jobless and now homeless. (His paycheck for that month is supposed to cover the rent but it covered the expenses for the new set of china instead.)

Maybe not so homeless anymore. Mingyu took him in after seeing him sitting on the sidewalk just outside his apartment building with his luggage beside him. Pathetically.

"I got kicked out," Minghao replies blandly when he asks out of amusement and not out of concern. "I got fired. I'm probably gonna live in the streets now. Do you know any good sites to ask for change?"

It had been a joke to see how he would react but Mingyu took it a little too seriously and before he knew it, he decided to take him in like a puppy.

Had it been worth it taking the fall? A few days ago before his lease's due, there are times when it hadn't been. He feels like pushover bordering on stupid for not speaking up it had been an accident but despite so, he never got tempted to walk back into that restaurant to set things right for him. It cost him his job and his apartment sure, but it'll probably cost the girl's whole life if he didn't take the fall. All he got in return was the girl's sobs of thank you and I'm sorry. Even so, he can't deny feeling like he accomplished something. He had looked out for a stranger when the world seemed to turn its back at her. That made him seem like a hero.

Minghao likes the sound of being a hero. Mingyu doesn't have to know that though. He already thinks Minghao is pathetic.

Now all he has to worry about is to find a job and maybe a few days with someone who doesn't remotely sound like his friend and who only took him in probably because he needed a puppy to take care of.

Mingyu leads him to a small living room with a two-seat couch and a TV. "Wait on the couch."

He might as well say don't scratch the pillows.

Minghao breathes in awe as he surveys Mingyu's modest apartment, dusted, well-arranged and perfumed to the corners. Mingyu sure doesn't look like someone who would own a beige and baby blue pad (which strangely looks calming) and maintain his apartment at this level of organized and clean. Full offense to the dude, he sneezes at everyone which is hardly a sanitary practice. He seemed a lot messier when he was in high school as far as Minghao can recall. Judging from the looks of his apartment and how it seems to sparkle under the lighting, maybe he didn't know him well enough. To be fair, they had only shared a room for a month back then. And now, they're going to do it again.

Minghao decides maybe this isn't as bad as the last time. He likes clean places just as much as he likes keeping places clean. He has a feeling he'd like it here. Hopefully not too much.

When his eyes land on the color-coded rows of albums Mingyu own, he suddenly wonders if this guy is secretly OCD.

"Yo, have you eaten?" Mingyu asks from the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah." Minghao shoulders his backpack off.

MIngyu saunters in with a bowl of black bean noodles and places it in front of Minghao. "Liar."

"Whoa, wait. You don't have to."

"That's leftover from lunch, I don't want any leftovers in my kitchen," Mingyu argues. "Eat it, deal with it."

"You can't make me."

"I technically can. You're in my humble abode, you're in my command. Eat everything there is to eat. Don't waste food. You don't have to be shy about it because we both know you're every bit shameless."

Minghao frowns at him. "You ing dictator."

Mingyu grins. "You bet I am. Are we clear?"

"Has anybody ever told you how ugly you look when you smile?" he asks as he takes the chopsticks and brings the bowl closer to him. "Cause I will. You look ugly. Even more than usual, really."

He sneers at him. "You're just visually challenged."

Minghao inhales the noodles in a few minutes, unaware of his clawing stomach until the meal. After he makes sure to dispose of the plates and clean after himself, he knocks on the bedroom door. When he opens it slowly, he sees Mingyu fluffing the pillows and placing two blankets over the mattress.

The taller looks at him. "You sure you cleaned up?"

"Don't insult me." He steps in warily for no reason. "Thanks, by the way. I'll take the floor."

"I don't have any extra mattresses, we're gonna have to share the bed."

Minghao gawks. "What?"

The other boy crawls over the bed and frowns at him. "What's your problem? Bed's big enough. You can't get pregnant sharing a bed with me."

"."

"No, I'm being a generous host," Mingyu replies. "Either you want to freeze outside or sleep soundly and warmly in here. Your choice."

He clenches his fist tight but lets it go with a soft sigh. It’s a lot hard to swallow and it’s probably the first in a long list, but Minghao needs to quickly accept the fact that he's stuck with him and that he’ll be forced to get along with him throughout the entire time he’s staying. It’s anything but easy, but priorities. He's here with a plan after all. Stay for awhile just until he gets himself another decent part-time job that pays well, then move out after saving enough for another apartment. He'd take the cheapest one just so he can move out as soon as possible.

Soon, he pep talks himself. Just a few weeks of putting up with the world's biggest then he's out.

So much for being a hero.

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Knock yourself out."

 

 

 

 

 

"Just how much is the rent?" he whispers, but even that sounds a little too loud in the dark.

Mingyu's room is now shrouded with darkness except for the night projector on his bedside table rotating luminiscent stars and doing its job at lulling the place with its soft light. Except, Minghao finds himself eyeing the floating stars as it drifts around the room, keeping him wide awake. Actually, it isn't the only reason why. It's the very fact that he's inside Kim Mingyu's room, in Kim Mingyu's bed with him and enjoying its warmth is what bothers him more. It sounds so wrong no matter how many times he tries to get his head around it and he lies still, not brave enough to test the waters in all its weirdness.

Again. De ja vu. But a lot more awkward this time around. A lot harder to deal with.

Mingyu, on the other hand, doesn't seem as bothered as the bed creaks under his constant struggle to find a comfortable position. He is right, the bed is big enough for the both of them. But it isn't nearly big enough for Minghao to ignore the fact that the body next to him is there and it radiates more of the warmth he enjoys than the heater. And it's a ing disturbing thought to dwell on so he speaks, he squeaks, trying to sound dignified while he freezes completely still like a cadaver.

"Mmm," Mingyu groans to make it even weirder.

"Oi, I was asking how much is the rent."

"You paying?" he asks back, voice soft yet raspy.

"When I find a job, we split it. Including the food. Just tell me how much is everything. I'll pay half."

Just why the hell are they whispering? Both of their voices sound weird whispering. They should be raising voices and throwing snide remarks, coat each word with the sarcasm they know each other for. That should it be how it is for the both of them, even at night. Even if they're both exhausted. Even in bed next to each other. No exceptions.

Unfortunately, Mingyu doesn't share the same sentiments.

"It's on me," he ing whispers, a trail of dream at his voice's wake.

"What do you mean it's on me?"

"I'll pay for everything," he hums, sleep obviously seeping in. "Why don't you focus on job hunting for now? Let's talk about it again when you get one."

Minghao shrugs. "Right."

A pause.

He can feel Mingyu's every breath vibrating like a constant reminder of his existence, making it incredibly harder to ignore. Judging from the even breaths and slightly audible snores, Mingyu is slowly falling asleep. Rightfully so, since his work at a pastry shop slash coffee shop as the part-time pastry chef demands every bit of strength, discipline and creativity he can offer. The man must be exhausted from juggling both school and work.

He spends the next minute trying to figure out how an like Mingyu can work at such a fluffy place as a sweet shop. Then he proceeds to counting breaths.

Kim Mingyu's breath. Kim Mingyu's body next to his.

His entire body tingles with pent-up energy he doesn't know he had and shifts by impulse, bed groaning under him as he turns his body to the left before he recalls Mingyu's on that side of the bed. His face meets his and Minghao freezes for a moment before realizing he is already asleep. He stays still however because the ing bed ing creaks so much and even more movement and creaking will be pushing his luck. So he's stuck shutting his eyes as tight as he can because its a no-brainer than he had already wounded his pride enough for one day and that staring, especially at asshat Mingyu's idiotic, sleeping face is the highest form of "luck-pushing" in Minghao's book.

 

 

 

 

 

The fact that they aren't even friends to begin with is what made this entire arrangement strange. They're probably somewhere in between; not necessarily too friendly to be friends, not too hostile to be enemies. Actually, they've managed to reach the "enemies" point back when they first met, but had toned down miraculously over time to somewhere in between. Both had only managed to remain in each other's radius even during college because of the fact that Mingyu's workplace, Sweet Savanna is just across the street from Minghao's.

Truthfully, Minghao can't see no other reason why Mingyu took him in besides to ridicule him in his rough times, something he probably never outgrew. To shelter him like a lost puppy just to show that he can, just to prove that he has everything Minghao doesn't. Poor, poor puppy, he can imagine Mingyu thinking everytime he looks at him. Here let me shelter you and feed you and then make you feel while eating and sleeping. Yes. Come to Gyu.

Minghao doesn't know why he kept comparing himself to a puppy in this case. Maybe it is due to the fact that Mingyu had kept a lot of wild strays that growls and barks back when he is in high school and Minghao cannot overlook how dauntingly similar he is to them. Spirited, feisty and ready to bite.

, that just reaches a whole new level of weird.

Minghao wakes up to the sound of rustling and he bolts right up, hair sticking out to all directions as he scans the foreign room he had woken up to. It takes a few minutes for last night's events to sink in and he calms down a bit, only to tense up again as Mingyu walks in. He swings his legs off the bed and poises to get up. He doesn't wanna look like he'd warmed up to the place this fast. The taller doesn't seem to notice as he heads for his closet.

"I'm off to work," Mingyu says, shouldering his navy blue long coat and looking as if he owns a ing runway. "Don't scratch the pillows."

There, he says it.

" you."

Mingyu laughs, grabbing his keys next. "Food's in the fridge. Don't call me unless the apartment's on fire. But please don't set it on fire just to call me."

Minghao doesn't see him off so he wonders to the kitchen in an after-sleep haze when Mingyu leaves. He digs through the fridge in search for a light meal that Mingyu wouldn't notice had gone missing from his supply then frowns at the spotless room.

It would've been easier to take in if he had a little cleaning to do, something to take his mind off of the fact he can't call because he doesn't even have Mingyu's number.

 

 

 

 

"You can stay over at my place," Seokmin says over the phone. "Why didn't you call me first?"

Minghao would. He'd take a messy Seokmin than an OCD Mingyu who couldn't spare some mess for him to take care of. He normally appreciates a clean household but now, he would most likely appreciate messy to keep him occupied.

"Nah. I don't want to be a burden. You're too cramped there."

Three's a crowd.

"Soonyoungie wouldn't mind."

Oh he would. Minghao dumbly shrugs. "It's okay. I've already settled at Mingyu's."

"About that! I still can't believe he took you in."

"I know."

"Wonder what he ate for lunch."

"Probably a whole lot of yeast if you ask me. It's probably clogging his brain now and when it decomposes, he would snap out of it and kick me out in a flash."

"Hah!" He hears shuffling from the other line. "Mingyu's actually a good guy, you know. Just not around you, for some reason."

"What a newsflash. Thanks."

Seokmin laughs. "You'll be fine, honest. As long as you don't kill him first."

"That is something I pray for every day. I could use some of your good, Seoks. I'll need it."

"You have enough good in you, Hao believe me. You just need to learn to use it on Mingyu," Seokmin says. "You both do, really. By then, rooming wouldn't be too bad anymore."

Minghao hates it when he speaks like this. Like he knows for sure. It doesn't sound like the normal Seokmin. He sounds possessed by some divine spirit.

"So do you know any job openings?" he asks.

Seokmins hums thoughtfully. "None as of the moment. Have you tried Mingyu's shop?"

"I already share a bed with him, I don't need to see him all day every second in my foreseeable future."

"You share a bed?!" his friends laughs. "Damn, who is he and what did that guy do to Mingyu?"

"I know."

"I'd understand if it was me. But you?"

"That's what I was talking about."

"Damn."

Minghao nods. "Yeah, damn."

"Told you he's a good guy. He's willing to overlook the fact that you peed on him during high school when you two last share a bed."

"Don't remind me."

Another guffaw from the other line echoes, bright and crisp. Now, that sounds like the real Seokmin. He laughs at everything. "That was when you guys hit it off, didn't you?"

"No. That was when I knew there is such a species as Koreanus tardus and he's the first in the line."

Seokmin laughs again and Minghao joins in, finding it hard not to and feeling his day brights up a tad bit. "That's a good one but you know, hopefully Mingyu doesn't remember it."

Mingyu does, in fact. It takes all of Minghao's willpower not to throw a punch at his "generous host".

"Don't pee on me when we sleep okay?" he warns, slipping under the covers when he gets home that night.

Minghao storms out and doesn't come back until the taller had fallen asleep because he knows from experience that a Koreanus tardus like him is so much better asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

Everything started on freshman year, Minghao had a Kim Mingyu guy listed as his roommate for the year.

Back then, everything was foreign and awkward for the immigrant Chinese, from the weird Korean food he only had glimpses at Korean restaurants but never actually tasted to the barely readable Korean characters that his mind had refused to take in easily at a young age. Minghao was awkward, lanky and Chinese who knew next to nothing about the country he had blindly set foot in. He's also just twelve and back then, everything was just suffocating. From the fact his parents didn't even bother enough to be sad to see him go to the fact that he never wanted to be there and everything in between is just too much for him. He's supposed to be there for a scholarship in a boarding school and if he does well, it'll also cover his college fees. But he didn't want to do well in a Korean boarding school. He didn't even want to leave China at all but right from the start, there was no room for Minghao's "want" in his household. There's only a resounding "need" for him to do things he's told to do so he swallows his protests back for what seemed like all his life and hopes he didn't throw it up somewhere where he can be seen by anyone in that state of weakness.

When his plane touched down at the airport, his aunt had been there to take him to the campus and even she didn't show any bit of sympathy for her nephew. His arrival there had been treated as a form of punishment. A proof that he's been banished from his home, from his very country just because he had joined a dance squad against his parents' wish and because they firmly believed he was never meant to dance. By then, he had felt unwanted, stuck, alone and the only thing keeping him together was the fact that he at least had a boarding school to take him in. At least, he'd be able regroup there, gather his thoughts and back together. Maybe he'd learn enough Korean to stay alive. Maybe not kill himself.

Minghao had lost a couple times on his way to his dorm. He had tried not to cry but it got harder to hold it in the closer he got to his unit. When he closes the door behind him he dropped to the floor, sobbed hard under folded arms and wailed at the top of his lungs.

That was the start of the string of his many mistakes from then on.

He realized that as soon as he looks up and sees his a boy of his age but slightly taller than him, halfway through stuffing a yakisoba to his mouth. Minghao froze, tears apparently didn't get the memo to do the same as it continues trickling down his cheek shamelessly. They stared at each other for awhile before the boy snickered.

"You got snot running down your nose," he said, pointing at him.

Minghao knew only little Korean but the message got across. "Ah, ." He swore in Chinese and wiped it off.

"I'm Mingyu but you don't look like you're Korean," the boy added, biting off a piece from his bread. "Chinese?" he asked in English, weird but practiced. Minghao nodded.

"I'm your roommate," he said in English and pointed at himself then to him. "Xu Minghao?"

Minghao nodded again.

"I'll call you Cryinghao. Your name is a mouthful."

The kid was Kim Mingyu and he turned out to be the first of the Koreanus tardus he's known in his life.

It was as if the universe itself was against Minghao peaceful venture in Korea and had decided to embody his further misfortunes in the form of the boy and then put him inside his supposedly peaceful space. As if he hadn't gotten enough of it. As if he needed another to make his life a bit more miserable. It was easier to handle at first when he couldn't understand the teasing but as he slowly learned more Korean to understand even the simplest of it, it had dramatically increased. As if it wasn't bad enough for them to share a bed for being left with the single-bed unit.

It was a miracle Minghao hadn't even thought of killing himself. He had to thank his pride for that. He had been too proud to cave in to Mingyu's incessant teasing, had been too snarly to succumb to the misery he brought to Korea with him. He had been too determined to learn more curse words, too busy to learn more sarcasm put into right context to get back at him. But even pride has its own limits, and what was waiting for him at the end of it, at the end of everyday he was forced to go through was an overwhelming tidal wave of sadness that tramples all over him solid and angry. The passing days felt as if Minghao was nose-diving down the slope at terminal velocity with the air knocked out from his lungs. He was trembling every night, forced to act like he wasn't to the point of peeing on bed because he was too afraid to get up at night, too depressed to even move, too caught up in his own pity bubble to be aware of the mess he's made. Mingyu fought him because of it and had found reason for everything else. Minghao learned to fight back and soon enough, their unit became a literal war zone. Halfway through the term, dorm management decided to split them up before they set the entire building on fire. Minghao ended up rooming with Mingyu's bestfriend, Lee Seokmin, and that's how he decided he hated Kim Mingyu.

 

 

 

 

Minghao doesn't plan this to be all domestic and . Exactly why he makes sure to be anywhere but by the door when Mingyu leaves first in the morning so he doesn't see him off all domestic-like and be awkward without the "Goodbye dear". But the Korean tardus extraordinarinus, as expected, doesn't share his sentiments. On a weekend two weeks after he's moved in, Minghao walks out of the bedroom and finds Mingyu in the kitchen, closing the fridge.

"Let's go to the grocery store," he says with a bed-head and a raspy voice, holding a cup of cold coffee. "We ran out of bananas."

Banana is all what Minghao ate that week. "Uh, I got to be somewhere else."

"Bananas first," Mingyu argues. "Or else, what would you eat for the next couple days?"

That's how he ends up wrapped his scarf, waddling next to Mingyu as they walked down the street to the grocery store. The banana stock turns into a reasonable argument that even Minghao couldn't speak against. It's his only food supply besides the cheap, repetitious college food for the past weeks. Gladly, Mingyu doesn't question his food choice so far so that means his plan on minimal consumption of the food found in Mingyu's fridge is working. As soon as they reach the store, Minghao strolls away from the taller and trudges down the fruit aisle where he obtains several banana hands. He'll be fine with these. He'll manage. Maybe he can steal a few cornflakes and milk without Mingyu noticing so he should be fine.

He's about to head to the counter after when Mingyu strolls in, pushing a trolley down the aisle over to Minghao. It hasn't been a few minutes yet the trolley's already half-filled with a few cartons of milk, meat, chicken, an awful lot of ramen packs and a bottle of shampoo. Either Mingyu has zero regard for product quality or he's the freaking Flash, Minghao couldn't think of any other scientific explanation. Mingyu stops and takes the bananas from Minghao's hands and surveys them.

"Seriously?" he asks him.

Minghao stares back blankly. "Yeah, seriously."

"Is this your secret to having those luscious skin and bones? Several fresh bananas?"

"Exactly. Good for the bones."

Mingyu shakes his head and places the bananas neatly beside the ramen packs. "That all? I'm not complaining but I can't have you die on me. Pick another fruit, geez."

"I can't say I have the money for that."

Mingyu looks at him then sighs. "Okay. If that's how you want to be, how about you pay me double for all of this when you get your job? Just to make you feel better. Deal?"

Minghao hums as he contemplates. "Double is trouble. How about 5%?"

The taller raises his brow at him.

"I get to pay 55%," Minghao says. "of all you've spent for me."

"Alright fine, cheapskate." Mingyu waves a hand at him, dismissively. "If that makes you happy."

The taller is striding away when Minghao smiles, reaching for a huge pineapple from the fresh stacks. When they get home, Mingyu whips up a nice meal of spicy rice cakes and kimchi with a side of bananas. Minghao wonders how the hell did Mingyu turn out to be such a fine cook and hopes it's not gonna be a many-time thing or else it will make it hard for him to stick to his all-banana diet while he's under his roof.

 

 

 

 

 

Besides the minor intervention with the fruits Minghao intake, Mingyu manages to stay clear of his other choices, including the time he goes home everyday. Probably because he comes home later and leaves earlier in the morning than Minghao does. That means Minghao gets the place to himself most of the time if he isn't out and he gets to walk in and out everytime he wants to.

The next few days are spent on attending seminars and looking for part-time job openings. The latter isn't looking too good for Minghao who was fired for being a clumsy ex-worker and all those stores are looking for "fairly efficient" employees and good recommendations. Back at China, you can get a part-time job easily as long as you phrase your words right, bow down and acknowledge the employer's hard work.

There has been better days to be out and today isn't one of them. Unforgiving rain pounds hard against the windows, shrouding the horizon in a gray and restless, almost blinding state. It's kind of pretty to look at if you're inside gazing out to it. Which Minghao isn't.

He curses inside his head for the nth time as he speeds up down the sidewalk to the apartment, leaning back to his hood as he stretches it out to keep the water out of his eyes. He fails naturally and shivers, since the water has long been sipped into his hair and cascaded down his forehead. The only thing he could do is not to prevent himself from getting any more soaked but to beat himself mentally for not grabbing the ing umbrella on his way out having been aware of the glaring hints this morning. But he couldn't have gotten one either way, it's Mingyu's umbrella. He doesn't want to grab Mingyu's anything even if it meant getting soaked like this. But it, his books.

At least he'd have an excuse why he doesn't turn his essay in.

Minghao makes his way inside the apartment building and climbs wearily to Mingyu's apartment, feeling the day's exhaustion fighting against his muscles on the way up. As of now, he decides to focus on his acads over part-time job hunting since midterms week is coming up and he needs to work his off for a passable first half to this sem. It doesn't look it but he takes his studies seriously. The job hunting can wait, as much as he hates it to, going back and forth between the library and Seokmin's place where they study together out of habit, despite taking different courses. They aren't much help to each other directly but each other's presence alone gets the work done. With Minghao in his place, Seokmin can finally focus on the more important stuff other than the eyelash-batting Soonyoung and Minghao can be somewhere else other than Mingyu's place.

"His place feels like high school," he says to Seokmin as he pushes him out of his bedroom. "And next time homie, don't live with your boyfriend."

Minghao halts in front of the unit and twists his key in, giving it a slight push. He freezes in the doorway when he finds leaning to it with his arms folded. He's home early. He normally doesn't come home until ten in the evening and it's still nine.

"Hey," he greets, suddenly hyper-aware of how dripping wet he is. "You're home early." Wait, , no that's domestic-ish.

"You didn't even bother taking the umbrella," Mingyu says dangerously. "I left it there for a reason."

"You did? That's weird."

"You're dripping," he points out.

"I can mop it off."

Minghao tries not to look too cold nor too wet as he crouches down to take off his shoes. He senses Mingyu walk out of the room so he sighs, thinking he's off the hook when he notices him walk back in, dropping a towel on top of his head. He sits in front of him and starts wiping his head with it.

"What are you—"

"I can't let you get my place wet. Just take off your shoes."

Minghao does quickly, almost forgetting to pile his sneakers neatly on the rack and taking over Mingyu's hands to rub the towel on his own head.

"Take your clothes off," Mingyu commands stiffly.

"I'm not taking them off."

"Take them off now. I'll bring the hamper over," Mingyu says, heading to the bathroom.

In a daze, Minghao wraps the towel around his shoulders and sheds his soaked hood and pants. He keeps his shirt and boxers on which were only slightly wet and Mingyu steps in, dumping his wet clothes into the basket.

"Wait in the kitchen, I'll make you something warm."

"You don't have to."

"You're making me do it so shut up."

Mingyu disappears into the bathroom, probably to throw his clothes to the laundry and Minghao immediately regrets letting him do it.

Minghao immediately regrets doing everything he's been told so far including settling in the kitchen rather than heading for a change of clothes. But he figures maybe he subconsciously isn't up for another round of argument. Either that or he's starting to get subconsciously compliant without realizing it. The latter sounds so disturbing that he shivers. (Maybe partly from the cold.) Nobody says anything as Mingyu settles in front of the stove. After a few minutes, he places a hot bowl of chicken soup and a tea in front of him.

"You're really stupid you know that?" Mingyu lashes out. "What if you get sick?"

He blinks. "Then, too bad for me?"

"You're gonna get me sick too, we're sharing the same bed."

"Maybe you can finally let me take the floor. That's an idea."

"I already told you I don't have any mattresses."

Minghao feels irritation creep up to his head. "Shut up, okay I told you, you didn't have to take me. It's kinda partly your fault."

"That's not the point here. If you'd only taken the ing umbrella or stopped somewhere just until the rain stops."

"Yeah, that's a plan. Stay there until the rain stops."

Mingyu sighs, still looking slightly red. "Alright fine. But next time, take the umbrella or don't go out at all."

"You can't tell me what to do, you're not my mom."

"You don't have one here."

"Exactly, and since when did you care?"

That shuts him up, Mingyu chews on his lip, brows scrunched up looking like he still has a lot to say. "Fine. Fine. If you get sick, you're on your own."

"I didn't ask to be with you to begin with."

"Then leave."

Minghao puffs his chest and stares back. "I will."

Mingyu stomps out of the kitchen. A few minutes after, he stomps back in. "On the second thought, don't. That's stupid. You can't be too stupid."

". . . yeah."

"Just don't—" he sighs. "You get it."

"Yeah."

Minghao doesn't.

 

 

 

 

He wakes up to the other's throaty coughs and the bed's shaking. Minghao jerks right up, ready to take off if he feels the very building shaking but instead hears Mingyu's poorly-concealed scratchy barking echoing in the darkness. His eyes land on the glaring LED clock across the bed and finds it flashing a red 2.45. He sighs, relieved because it isn't an earthquake thank goodness but squints in the dark to focus on the shaking burrito-like Mingyu beside him, sniffing and radiating a dangerously unnatural warmth.

Minghao stays still for further confirmation and gets another lengthy and crunchy cough. Then a sneeze to make things a little worse.

Great. Looks like somebody caught a cold.

As quietly as he can, Minghao slips out of the room and fills a glass with water before stepping back into the room. He flicks Mingyu's bedside table lamp on and tentatively shakes Mingyu's shoulders.

"Mingyu," he whispers, then clears his throat. "Mingyu," he says louder.

A cough, then an irritated hum.

"Water," Minghao speaks. "Get up. Come on."

Mingyu groggily strips out of his blanket cocoon and groans as he gets up. By then Minghao can feel the intense heat radiating from him and can see his red puffy eyes. He definitely looks pale even if his slightly tanned skin doesn't allow noticeable red to surface. His beat-up appearance and incessant coughing is enough to tell something is wrong. Mingyu takes the water gingerly and downs it in a heartbeat, poising to get back to bed when Minghao stops him, placing a cold palm on his blazing forehead.

"You caught a cold," Minghao informs him, then feels silly doing so. Mingyu groans hazily in response as he settles back in. "You're gonna have to get up once I get some medicine. Uh, don't get too comfortable."

"Do you think . . ." Mingyu breathes against the onslaught of coughs. ". . . we have leftover soup from dinner?"

"You don't allow leftovers."

"Oh. Right."

"Do you want soup?"

"I'm fine, I just . . ." Mingyu trails off then closes his eyes.

Minghao shakes his head and grabs his phone on the way out to the kitchen, reaching for the medicine kit in one of the cupboards. He places the medicine on the kitchen counter and takes his phone out to look up "easy to make food for sick people". Normally he'd feel silly phrasing the question that way but desperate times demand desperate measures and he rather look up silly questions than have his roommate die on him now. After a few minutes of browsing through a couple of medicinal and culinary sites and some panicky internal debate on contacting the emergency service, he lands on the only choice he could take as of the moment. He chooses to cook ramen for the lack of ingredients and personal skills for other more complicated recipes.

Halfway through stirring the broth and the noodles around the pot, he looks over his shoulder and finds Mingyu shuffling into the kitchen with their blanket around his shoulders, looking dubiously at the phone on his one hand, a laddle on the other.

"I, uh." Minghao pockets his phone hastily and shrugs. "couldn't be too careful cooking ramen. I was just looking up for a few tips," he explains, trying to look convincing and dependable as he continues stirring.

"Is that soup?" Mingyu asks throatily, then clears his throat. "You didn't have to cook."

"Yeah I didn't," he replies, taking it off the low fire and sets it on the table. "But I got hungry. You can have some if you like."

Mingyu takes a seat as he dishes out the bowls and the utensils. He gives Mingyu's bowl a few scoops of the soup and places a glass of water next to him with the medicine.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Like ," Mingyu replies with a grimace.

"Well, you look the same," Minghao points out. "Still like ."

"Ha-ha."

Minghao laughs, briefly wondering maybe Mingyu's ordeal had given him the courage to tease. He doesn't seem to mind so much. He looks busy feeling sick to even bite back his smartass comebacks. Also, he's been staring cautiously at the soup for a few seconds now, as if still trying to figure out if it's edible or poison through half-lidded eyes.

"It'll help with the nose," he assures, watching as Mingyu takes a tentative sip from the soup.

The taller smacks his lips experimentally and nods contentedly after, scooping another spoonful. A few minutes later, he's blowing and sipping hungrily through the entire thing, even slurping the noodles with gusto.

Minghao tries hard not to smile at the job well done (thank goodness for Internet) and sips his own soup. Then it hits him square between the eyes and punches him right upside the jaw, leaving him blinking at Mingyu at his disoriented and silent vulnerable state that this right here, is domesticity in all the word's sense. It all ing fits it's almost physically painful. One gets sick and the other one feeds him soup and gives him medicine. Then the other will have to wipe cloth all over the former's body to try to ease the feverish warmth and then they will end up cuddling at some point and get all mushy and—oh no.

Never in a million years.

"What?" Mingyu asks with a brow raised as soon as Minghao realizes he's been staring while looking like he can feel a diarrhea coming up in his stomach.

He shakes his head and hastily sips on his soup. He scours his brain for anything to divert the other from his previous blatant staring and comes up with, "How'd you get sick anyways? I thought you're as strong as a cow," which came out thankfully cooler and smoother than he expects.

Mingyu's staring suggests the opposite. "How'd you spell this soup cooked, is the real question here."

Minghao shrugs. "I'm a Chinese person living in Korea for almost a decade now. I can whip up a few soup for a life. And in this case, yours."

"Deliciously too." Mingyu squints suspiciously.

He perks up. "Yeah, it's good?"

"I'm a sick person who says it's good," Mingyu replies with his head cocked to the side. "You do the math."

"Oh, you, just say thank you."

Mingyu laughs, surprisingly loud. "Okay, thank you."

Nobody speaks for a few minutes before Mingyu coughs up and says, "I think I got sick from the weather."

An image of Mingyu shedding his wet long coat and boots from work one night flashes across Minghao's mind. He had offered him a towel and a hamper just like what he did to him one time and got a shivery "thank you" in return. He didn't think that one time is enough to get to him. Turns out maybe Mingyu isn't as tough against natural phenomenon as he thinks.

"Maybe you should bring the umbrella next time," Minghao helpfully suggests, finishing the last of his soup.

"Yeah, maybe I should." Mingyu nods and stands up with his bowl. "Because the person I left it for doesn't seem to need it."

Thank all the things mighty they don't end up cuddling after that. The taller looks so much better after another glass of water and the medicine, though still congested, that he no longer looked as weary as he does before. He falls asleep as soon as his body hits the bed without so much as another word.

But Minghao lays there next to the sick Mingyu for a couple hours, making sure to be awake in time for Mingyu's next medication. He really doesn't plan this to blow any more domestic and as it already is but he can't have this sick-Mingyu theme stretching longer if he can help it. So he flips drifting stars on and counts Mingyu's coughs instead as he lets the fact that they're still lying next to each other bother him till early morning hours.

 

 

 

 

When Mingyu's fever fades a few days after (he's forced to stay home for those days because he can't have his regulars get infected from his sneezing spells), he comes home with a few tubs of ice cream to "celebrate". He even sinks next to Minghao in front of the TV while holding out two spoons and a tub of rocky road. He stares passionately at The Walking Dead Season 8 rerun in front of him as Minghao takes one spoon and supports the tub with one hand.

Nobody says anything as they simultaneously scoop out spoonfuls of the icy goodness, both pairs of eyes glued to the intense Sanctuary crossfire, a Negan being the most badass antagonist TV has ever seen and good-old Walker gore flashing in front of them.

Minghao wonders why ice cream in the middle of the ing night with the merciless rain pounding against the windows outside. But Mingyu's smirks are all the explanation he needs and because he's down for all sorts of spiting, he mutters a brief " you, weather" and digs in.

 

 

 

 

 

It starts with the panda video.

Before, Minghao makes it a habit to turn in after he's sure Mingyu has fallen asleep to avoid making these encounters any more awkward. He makes a mistake of walking in to the room one night and finds the taller sprawled all over the bed holding his phone up to his face. Mingyu acknowledges his presence by scooting over, wiggling on the mattress like a cocoon and it's a ing mistake Minghao walks in with his pajamas on and teeth immaculately brushed with no other excuse to bail.

He let his pride talk ("I'm not ing getting out of here and be chicken about this.") so he saunters over and climbs into the bed, flipping to his side trying to ignore the fact they look like a married couple caught in a silly love quarrel. Even after all those ice creams they shared together, it's still pretty awkward to have Mingyu in the same room. Probably because nobody has said anything more than the usual, "Where are the bananas?"and "Catch you later."

Except, Mingyu obviously doesn't think so.

"Damn, Minghao check this out," Mingyu practically squeals, crawling closer to Minghao's side of the bed and propping himself up on his elbow to show him a video on his phone.

Although slightly taken aback from the sudden personal space invasion, Minghao focuses on the stark brightness of the screen to the tumbling panda on it. Mingyu roars in laughter right into his ears, he's too ing close and the entire bed shakes from it. When he notices Minghao doesn't laugh, he taps the replay button and shoves it closer to his face for another take and Minghao laughs this time around, shakily but laughing, and it gets buried under Mingyu's booming laughter.

"He's so freaking cute I want to make a keychain out of him." The taller snorts and settles back down, but doesn't quite retreat to his side of the bed instead he stays there hovering over him, a grin plastered on his face as he scrolls for more videos.

With the remains of the awkward smile, Minghao tries to ease out farther from him but stops when he realizes he's already on the edge of the bed. He shies his face away from the light and tries not to look panicked at the lack of space.

"Oh! Oh! Here's another one! Look!" Mingyu assumes his position up his elbow and snickers into Minghao's ears as he holds up his phone once again for the both of them to see. "Wait for it . . ."

Minghao doesn't know which meme made it less awkward and made his laugh more sincere but the browsing-and-showing eventually gets easier and after what seems like a few hours into the night laughing and pointing at the screen until their jaws and stomach hurt, the two collapses on the bed side by side, their foreheads touching and shoulders bumping with Mingyu's phone laying abandoned on his hand.

 

 

 

 

It continues with the unexpected phone calls. Even during classes.

"What do you want for dinner?"

Minghao blinks when he realizes it's Mingyu. "Uh, how did you even have my number?"

They never even exchanged numbers.

"Seokmin. So, dinner?"

Minghao ing blinks again as he scans his classroom as if it's the first time he sees it on that day and ducks his head behind another head.

"Uh. What?"

"What do you want for dinner?" Mingyu repeats. "I'm off early so I'll prep dinner. I'm at the grocery store right now, I'll get your bananas so you don't have to worry about that. How does pork bellies sound to you? Bibimpap?"

"Uh . . ." Minghao drawls. "That sounds great?"

"Great. Don't eat out. Eat at home."

"Uh, okay."

Mingyu hangs up. Minghao stares at his phone and wonders a general "What the " inside his head with the occassional "Eat at home" resounding.

 

 

 

 

 

"So, how's things with Mingyu?" Jun asks, browsing through the books before him with his hand sliding along the spines looking titles. Minghao walks alongside him with a bunch of books in his arms. In between studying with Seokmin and studying alone at the library, he has this rare moments of finding Wen Junhui, a fellow Chinese and classmate from high school. What makes library encounters like this rare is the fact that Junhui's taking up Performing Arts and he's just ever at the library to borrow books for his boyfriend Jeon Wonwoo and pick up pizza on the way to his apartment. Minghao thinks its petty running errands for his boyfriend but Junhui argues he only thinks it is because Minghao doesn't know love and if he does, he'll be at the same level of petty as him, if not lower.

"As if," Minghao would argue back, just to spite him.

"Someday," Junhui said once, sounding awfully like Seer-Mode Seokmin. "you'll find love and instead of cuddling and soaking to the lovey-dovey feeling, it's gonna bite you in the for making fun of my everlasting love for Jeon Wonwoo."

Yeah, how's things with Mingyu, Minghao?

Minghao shrugs because he doesn't even know how to phrase the past months living with him. He's still the same-old, sarcastic Mingyu toned down a few notches and patched with a few niceness. It's hard to be sure when it comes to him. It's hard to point out when a nice gesture is thoroughly a nice gesture without a whoopee cushion underneath it or any ulterior motive. "There's no "things" with Mingyu."

Jun grabs a thick book out of the shelf, his arm flexing from the effort. "Okay, first of all don't make me phrase that question in Chinese, I'm trying hard not to switch to mother tongue. What, you're still hang up on what happened during high school? He's a plenty nice guy."

Yeah, Minghao. He is. "Okay. So it's no big deal."

"That's not how you made it sound like when you first moved in." They saunter over to a vacant table and set their books on it. "You're all 'I ing hate him Jun, I swear I'll kill him in my sleep I know it.'"

"I still want to kill him, though," he jokes.

"Damn," Jun eyes him cautiously. "when I said I was hoping to see some action out of this, I was hoping for different kind of action. The nice and pleasurable kind."

Minghao grins. "He has fed me and sheltered me for a few months now. There's nothing more to it."

Maybe a few meme videos. And Vines. And song recommendations. And the occasional cakes and cookies over weekends. Some intelligent The Walking Dead discussions and shared admiration for Negan. Nothing more.

"But I really hope you guys work it you know?"

"Your Korean is ing weird." Minghao snaps. "We should study more and practice. Say "Jun is stupid.""

"No, really. It'd be nice. I won't be surprised at all. You guys got the complete package already; the grumpy smaller guy—"

"What small—"

"—and the taller, maybe a bit bossy yet drop-dead gorgeous puppy man. And you guys even share a bed! It's a dream," Jun sighs. "What did you say about his eyes once? They're so brown and alluring you want to pluck them out and feed them to the chickens?"

"That's hardly supporting your twisted thinking."

"It's all the support I needed." Jun's eyes twinkled. "You said they're brown and you stared long enough to know they're ing alluring. Plus you said that with passion."

Minghao chuckles. "You make a better liar than Allkpop."

"Hey baby I'm the Allkpop to your life." Jun snickers. "Tell me when you guys finally hit it off, alright?"

"Never."

"Never is too long a time, Minghao. But you know what they say right? Never is only a day when the horse is too close to the hay."

"Who even said that?"

"Apparently I did. But let's just say."

Minghao laughs aloud, earning a harsh shush from the librarian who has been eyeing the two since they sat down.

 

 

 

 

 

It doesn't end with the phone calls.

Instead, it stems up to the discreet glances Minghao steals every now and then. To his defense, he's not checking him out any chance he gets. (Nope, not really. Not intentionally. Obviously. Like that freaking and chest are both attention-seeking and shrine-worthy, okay big deal, whatever.) He's just trying to look for the high school Koreanus tardus Mingyu he's grown to hate as intensely and as focused as he can any chance he gets, big difference. His brain just downright refuses to believe it has completely vanished under the facade of a sensible (sometimes) young man who could pass as a ing model with the everyday sidewalk as his runway. Well, it isn't as if he's completely vanished per se, because Minghao knows he's always there inside of him, reading to spring in action to Minghao's slightest show of stupid or clumsy. It's just that, sometimes it gets lost and for some reason, Minghao just wants it to surface enough to get him back to his senses, to give himself more reasons why he shouldn't enjoy the beef stew too much nor the warm bed he sleeps in every night because he's dangerously running out. He wants to see something that'll feed his silent contempt and not feed the wrong side to him which is starting to think maybe a few more months without a job is alright. Maybe a few more months focusing on his studies will pay off better than wasting his time job-hunting. Maybe a few more months with Mingyu would . . .

Gods and all things mighty. This is why he needs the Mingyu back. He needs him to give Minghao a good metaphorical slap of reality across the face.

Minghao gets most of his needs just fine for a few months now with Mingyu providing for him and that is a dangerous enough incentive to stay here. Even his honed sarcasm doesn't seem to provoke Mingyu as much as before. Minghao isn't sure how to ask the baker to be rude to him because he obviously isn't trying anymore. He especially doesn't know how to ask him that when Minghao himself isn't too keen to have that side to him back. This scares him, this, the thought that he might actually see Mingyu in a different light and he fears the day he'll wake up to Mingyu's sleeping face next to him and think, "Yeah. Maybe this isn't so bad after all."

Because that would be very ing bad.