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Mingi-ah loves me so much, he breathes, cheeks flushed by exhaustion. His head is thrown to the side, damp chestnut hair falling down the side of his face, while a lone, but so enticing drop of sweat draws its way down his long exposed neck. A carefree smile floats on his face, and he seems amused by the situation, as well as a little something more. Maybe.
I do love you. Yunho-ah…, Mingi replies just as out-of-breath and so earnest in his words. His hands are travelling down the sides of the older man, and while their shared time is limited, he wants to keep touching more and more. He knows he's greedy, and they can't do much but commit to fleeting touches and hungry stares.
If Mingi hasn't spent the last decade of his life encrypting into every cell of his brain the finest outlines of the other man's face and all his micro-expressions - the way his head tilts in confusion or slight mirth, the way his ears flushed when he's embarrassed, excited, joyful and everything in between, the way his heart-shaped mouth draws into delight when he's amused and laughs so loudly.
Then maybe, he would have missed the way his eyes slightly widened, eyebrows hiding under his wavy bangs, and his lips opening in a lovely o-shape.
An expression of a surprised Yunho. His mind absently records.
Like he couldn't comprehend the information quickly enough and integrate the idea that maybe Mingi could love him so unabashedly.
But he did spend seconds, minutes, hours and years memorizing his face and learned it all, starving for everything Yunho. And therefore, does capture that slight change of expression.
And truth-telling, it makes him chuckle a little bit because heaven knows how much he loves that man.
So fucking much.
Don't laugh… don't-ah don't tease, Yunho whispers, in a puff of breath enclosed in the other man's neck.
Because amidst this, Mingi has pushed his interceptions and the same hands that were previously dancing on the surface of the large piece of clothing loosely hanging on the other man's frame have now travelled their way to make contact with real skin.
Hot, feverish skin. Damped by the vigour of all the dancing, shouting, and jumping on the stage they've been doing for the past hour. The palms of his warm hands gripped the sides of Yunho's hips and brought the other man even closer. Like that was even possible in the close space they've already shimmed themselves into.
Because after the shared look (his round eyes glistening under the myriads of lights dancing through the stage), the shared hugs (his hands clasped around his shoulder like he was terrified the mirage of Mingi could slide through his fingers), the tentative kiss on this hand (his smile, bashful, timid), the again surprised look in reaction to an unapologetic declaration of love (can I be devoted to you the same you are to me, it read) and finally, yes finally, the question, knees down and encourage by the excitement of thousands spectators Mingi has asked:
Would you be my Valentine?
Because after all of this, hearts pounding their chest in a reflective show of their shared rush of adrenaline, they ran backstage, their hands clasped and their breath heavy. They didn't stop running until they reached a closed-door changing room, deserted by any staff or crew members. Only then did they stop running and breathing hard and start to look at each other.
Really look.
"Can I be devoted to you as you are to me?", floats in the air, heavy, blatant and full of meaning.
What the fuck was that? Yunho curses-whispers, crashing the silence installed between the two men.
Mingi knows Yunho isn't really angry. He barely ever gets upset as it is.
No, he isn't angry, just, well, maybe just terrified at the idea of bearing his feelings with a person he holds so preciously close to his heart.
Or that is just projection.
I just thought it would fit…with the end of our song? And we always do a bit. And it was Valentine, he babbles, nervous and on edge.
And then he feels a pair of lips on his, and every additional thought he has about the request just fled as Yunho deepened their kiss.
This is not the first time they've kissed (summer 14, behind the convenience store near the academy). It was a fleeting peck, something they'd give to a family member. But Yunho's face was flushed, Mingi had never seen the other boy's face so warm with blood. His cheeks look like two bright cherry tomatoes have found a permanent residence on the face of the older boy.
Cute. His mind had processed, but before he could even mutter that thought, Yunho had fled, with a rushed bye and see you tomorrow. They don't talk about it the next day. Nor the day they found out that they'll work for their dreams together in this new company. Nor the day they celebrated their respective coming-of-age birthday. Nor the day they debuted or the day they had their first win. Nor, well, never truly. Which would have been less of a problem if they'd stopped sharing kisses.
But they never really did, and now this was another kiss they've shared that will not be talked about. Unless. Well.
No more talking, Mingi-ah. Enough, Yunho breathes as his own hands find their way into caressing the younger man's neck. Butterfly touches make way to more present, gripping contacts on the feverish skin. He's holding his neck, deposing fluttering kisses on the other's jaw while murmuring, almost like a mantra, Enough talking, just kiss me.
Nestled in the other's hold, like he is something precious to care for, Mingi wants to answer in the affirmative.
Yes, I am. Thoroughly. Devoted to you.
And almost like he could hear him form that thought, Yunho's grip on his face tightens slightly before he lets him go. His cheeks are flushed from exhaustion, and his lips swollen pink and glistening from all the love-making. He's not uttering a word, but his gaze is imprinting on Mingi's face, like watercolour splashes. Soft, diffused, tender. And Mingi, well, he is not above the feeling of absolute exaltation that this looks provided in him. He feels desired, and wanted, and maybe, even, maybe loved.
Yunho, he starts. Would you be my Valentine?
Mingi does not know exactly what possessed him to ask the older man one more time.
Something, something about the idea of a day celebrating love confessions and the courage to expose your feelings with the expectations of them being perceived and considered. Maybe. Probably. (Or perhaps it has been the bubbling feelings Mingi has been preciously nurtured for his longest and dearest friend through all those years that have finally burst out in the wildest and uncontrollable ways).
Either way, he is once again faced with the look of Yunho's round and glistening eyes slightly widening in what seems like pure delight.
Of course, Mingi-ah. You don't even have to ask. Then he raises his hands back to caress Mingi's jaw lightly - one dainty and long finger slowly tracing the curves of his cheekbones - and he asks in a bashful manner. Would you be mine?
Yes. A thousand times over, he wants to add. But Mingi settles for a brief nod and a timid sound of affirmation.
Yunho preens from that response and places a fleeting kiss on the other man's nose. Mingi knows he can no longer contain it; his face feels tender and raw and on the verge of bursting into flames. He's so in love, in adoration and in absolute devotion for the man that stands in front of him. His previous and constant shenanigans in front of thousands to witness and cheer on are meagre glimpses of what he really feels for that man.
Good, this is good Min-, Yunho smiles.
I am in love with you. Mingi cuts him. Sorry, he adds. I just could not stop myself, he laughs nervously. He knows Yunho loves him in that peculiar way long-time friends do. Often quietly, but still somehow fierce. After all those years, he knows Yunho holds him dearly in his heart. And sometimes, when he gazes upon him, those big, attentive eyes, Mingi thinks that maybe Yunho loves him in that special manner lovers yearn to do. In those moments, he feels himself blushing like a maiden, and his heart loops in his chest like a shooting star. So even though he can conceive that Yunho does love him, he still can not fathom bringing his gaze up to face Yunho. He quickly learns that he did not have to do anything as he feels the fleeting touch of a finger on his chin, slowly lifting his face for his eyes to lock into the others. The touch is minimal, truly barely a brush of skin-to-skin, and yet he feels trapped in the position. He knows he can't and won't move.
Never apologize for your feelings, Yunho gently chides him.
"No, to me" is left unsaid.
Sorry-,he starts before abruptly cutting himself.
Yunho is just gazing at him in that endearing way he does when a member is being mischievous.
No more apologies…right...,Mingi mutters in the quiet space between them.
Yes! And enough talking, Yunho chimes in, lips drawn into that tell-tale heart-shaped.
He's amused, Mingi mindlessly takes note.
I do accept your feelings, Mingi-ah. And for what it's worth, you were my first crush back at the academy, and my one true love through all those years, he breathes. This is so embarrassing, but you were my gay awakening, and fuck, I'm so into you, Song Mingi. What the fuck, he laughs in disbelief.
Mingi's mind goes static.
You're gay, he dumbly offers.
Yes. I'm gay. For you. I'm gay for you, Mingi-ah, that is the most important part, Yunho chuckles.
Okay, cool, cool, cool. That's cool, he mumbles to himself.
Realistically, Mingi feels like he's been comprehending every other word Yunho has been pronouncing in the last couple of seconds. No real input is being registered and computed as his cheeks are boiling and his mind is buzzing. Yunho, ever gentle Yunho, does not press and let him process the situation. He simply holds Mingi’s hands while drawing comforting circles on his wrists.
Growing up, childlike and eager and not quite used to eroding the edges of his personality for the world to witness, he found himself often at the end of rejection.
Your personality is truly a T. No emotions at all. So scary.
He would be left behind first at lunch, then after school, until he was never really accounted for.
Yunho. Who never let him behind. Sat with him at lunch until he took the last bite of his meal, listened to his blabbering on their way to and from school. Always by Mingi's side.
Always on Mingi's side.
I'll wait for you. Take your time, his eyes always shone quietly.
All those years, the ever-so-patient Yunho has been waiting for him. And even now, as he's been awaiting for a response to his own confession, Yunho's eyes are once again shining: I'll wait for you. Take your time.
The moment is shattered by the sounds of rushing footsteps and the voice of the crew staff demanding to know where the two artists have been. But the words are lingering in the air like the most cherished promise. So Mingi does what he has done plenty of times in the past in front of those shows of care from his oldest friend; he smiles, bright, full, and so thankful for the love and the affection. I love you, it says this time.
Yunho curls their fingers together and tugs Mingi out of the small changing room and into the loud chaos of their concert's backstage. Lost in the swinging of their locked hands, Mingi almost misses the moment when Yunho turns back and greets him with his own smile full of adoration.
I love you more, it read.