sentence starter meme heated: our muses have an angry kiss after a brawl.
he really hates fighting with mingyu. he hates more that it’s almost always his fault, his temper and impatience getting the better of him. he hates that it’s usually him doing all the shouting, him making everything ten times worse than it needs to be. he hates that he could easily just apologise and not experience any of the pain but his ego somehow won’t let him, as if admitting defeat even to mingyu is still something he can’t quite swallow.
at this point, he can’t remember what they’re even arguing about. he recalls coming home agitated already, not being greeted at the door like always because mingyu was busy with something else. between then and now, it’s all a blur, a mess of vocalised disappointment and annoyance pointed at the only other person around — even if mingyu had never been the cause of it in the first place.
he hates, too, that mingyu always just accepts what he throws at him at first. he hates that it’s so easy for him to place the blame and so easy for mingyu to assume he’s right, that he’s done something wrong. he knows what it does to him, what cogs it ticks in mingyu’s mind and he hates it. he really hates himself. but he doesn’t know how to stop.
( maybe that’s what he hates the most. )
there’s venom on the tip of his tongue and he knows that somewhere along the path he’s venturing down, he’s going to say something he regrets. he can feel it churning in his stomach; the anxiety, the worry, both mixing together with the rage, the anger. it’s a dangerous combination, but one that can be soothed. if mingyu’s brows weren’t furrowed back at him, his own seemingly limitless patience finally wearing a little thinner, maybe he could find that calm, but wonwoo knows there’s little hope now. instead, his frustration grows for a new problem. he’s no longer mad at mingyu for whatever it was he had been shouting about — now he’s frustrated with himself for not having all the answers. he runs fingers through his hair, messes already tangled locks and misses the way mingyu’s eyes soften. his own turn watery, tears forming in the corners because everything is wrong and he can’t piece anything together; like he’s somehow jamming the wrong piece into the last space in a jigsaw.
he registers the hand on the back of his head only barely before the lips against his. parted in shock, mingyu kisses him so deeply — as if he’ll fade to nothing if he doesn’t, as if he’s been waiting years to taste his tongue against his. mingyu pulls him in close to his chest, rests his spare hand on the small of wonwoo’s back. he should hate how cliche it is, but as they fight to take control, his anger slowly dissipates, replaced by passion and love and a calmness only mingyu can bring him in those moments where he rests his head against his chest to hear his heartbeat or he rubs circles into wonwoo’s shoulders, massaging out the tension. but he doesn’t. he loves it. he loves mingyu — loves how forgiving he is, how he speaks in actions ( in tongues, should he say ) rather than words.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles himself as they eventually break to breathe. “I’m sorry. I know you’ll say it isn’t my fault but I really wish I could control it better— myself better.” mingyu kisses him once more, softly and shortly, a smile to his plump lips.
“you’re right; it isn’t your fault.” wonwoo rolls his eyes. “feeling better?”
he hums. “I guess the myths are true. kisses really do heal all wounds.”
❝ he is very intelligent. more so than anyone would actually know. maybe you shouldn't ask him anything dealing with mathematics, but he reads a lot and knows a lot of things, especially regarding literature. he loves animals and shows them more kindness than he does people, with cats as an exception. he's loyal to the people that give him reason to be loyal to them. he would drive himself into the ground ensuring the people he loves most don't disappear. he sees the purpose behind things and believes that all things happen for a reason. that's something I’m not as good at. he's a dreamer and he has never let anything kill his dreams... he has a lot of positive and admirable traits. despite what we've been through, he manages to keep his sense of humor. it flourishes, even. he's helped me to live life with a little less seriousness. ❞ — @mingyuxmi about wonwoo.
outgoing → tall fucker ♥♥( ✉ ) no( ✉ ) kidding!! of course I will. you don’t need to ask me to kiss you at midnight; we’ve been dating over a year, mingyu. it’s not like we’re confessing for the first time. ( ✉ ) I mean, it’ll still be romantic because it’s new year’s eve and it’s tradition, but it’s just strange that you’d ask me like I wouldn’t kill anyone else who dares take this from me. ( ✉ ) wait( ✉ ) FUCK ( ✉ ) you were being romantic and I FUCKING RUINED IT, I’M AN IDIOT( ✉ ) now I kind of want you to kiss someone else at midnight, someone who isn’t a dumbass.( ✉ ) who am I kidding, if you even go near anyone else within an hour of midnight, I’ll kill. ( ✉ ) you or them? ~~a mystery~~( ✉ ) but I’m really sorry for ruining your attempt to be romantic :(( ✉ ) [ img attachment ]( ✉ ) forgive me? ( ✉ ) while you’re at it, you should forgive me for stealing your shirt, too. ( ✉ ) heh. ( ✉ ) see you soon ♥
he says it’s for mingyu when he walks through the salon door. in his mind, of course, and he’s far lost in his thoughts as the stylist ushers him to a chair. he’s almost silent for the entire time she works, makes no fuss, engages in lighthearted small talk despite the fact that he hates it more than anything else. ( not entirely true, but in the moment, it seems to be. )
truthfully, keeping the secret from him, despite its insignificance, is tougher than he expects. perhaps it’s that lack of importance that makes it so hard to bite his tongue, however. it flows so easily into general conversation that he almost slips up a few times, gives away that his extra hour or so of overtime that afternoon isn’t actually overtime, because he’s so used to telling mingyu everything. from the tiniest details of his work day to how endlessly tired he is, dry lips can’t keep any of it in. he remembers the times when he could barely touch the older without worrying he was crossing the unstated boundaries of their friendship; now it seems wonwoo has forgotten the meaning of the word.
( he snickers at the notion at the wrong time, the stylist asking him an innocent question and he stumbles over the unfamiliar word of apology in a desperate attempt to ensure she doesn’t ‘accidentally’ dye his hair green or orange. )
admittedly, getting the job done at a salon is far more expensive than wonwoo should really be spending this close to christmas ( and their anniversary ), but he wants it done right and he doesn’t trust ( nor want ) anyone near his hair besides his boyfriend, and it’ll be hard to surprise him with the change when he’s the one that did it. he thinks of the older’s reaction as he observes the final result in the mirror, the stylist asking him if he’s happy with it, a mirror positioned for him to see the back. it’s the tidiest it’s been in months, but he has a feeling that won’t last long.
the wind seeps through his coat on the walk home and it’s moments like this that he has his rare considerations of learning to drive. it’s not on his list of things to do and likely never will be ( he’s not sure he’s the best person to introduce to road rage ) but when the bitter air bites at his skin, it’s hard not to wish he had some form of transportation besides the legs god gifted him with ( which are, in all honestly, not the strongest or most durable ). he contemplates getting a tea from a cafe he passes and the taste of betrayal only stains his tongue for a moment because all thoughts of warmth are gone as he notices the ‘for sale’ sign on the empty store lot next to it.
he stands before the small building for a moment, stares through the front window into the dark room. unread junk mail litters the floor around the door and dark shadows cast over the room but he doesn’t see any of it. he sees tall shelves lined with books, beanbags tucked into nooks and crannies, hears a calming piano melody playing over tinny speakers and mirrors a proud, fond smile on mingyu’s gentle features. he sighs, pursing his lips and clutching the strap of his backpack tighter. he adjusts it on his right shoulder as he turns to leave, thoughts and dreams heavy in his mind. maybe he’ll talk to mingyu about it. maybe.
( he makes any excuse for himself, that the time isn’t right, it’s too stressful for drastic change this time of year, and bites on his bottom lip so hard that by the time he gets home, key in the door, it’s bleeding just a little and he wipes it away in one clean lick before he pushes the door shut behind him with his heel. )
“I’m home, baby.” he calls out, but it’s pointless because mingyu’s already in the hall the minute his keys had jingled outside the apartment. “surprise! this is your anniversary present.” he jokes, a soft giggle escaping his lips that fades out a few seconds later. “I’m kidding, of course. mostly. I hope you like it.”
Having a broken arm was bad enough, but having a broken arm on his boyfriend’s birthday was even worse. Thankfully, he wasn’t completely alone in his efforts anymore.
Last year on Wonwoo’s birthday, Mingyu was only at the point in which he was first realizing his feelings. It hadn’t been long since they told each other their life stories, and he bought the other boy so many gifts to make up for every birthday that he’d missed up until that point. This year, however, he only had to give for a single birthday, which was this one. Even so, considering last year they were simply best friends and this year they’re best friends and boyfriends, he had so much more that he wanted to do. If he could, he would give Wonwoo the whole entire world. Though, as he thought about it, that seemed a little dangerous for the Earth’s population.
Ever since he returned home the previous night, he’s insisted that Wonwoo stays away from the fridge. The two were spending the entirety of Monday together, so Mingyu went out the night before and stopped by his grandfather’s house. Juyeon is the one who helped Mingyu bake the cake for his boyfriend, since he was pretty useless with only his right arm, plus he didn’t want it to taste too horrible. He had it stashed away, finally removing it from its place and placing it on the counter in the same spot he did last year. He wasn’t as fast at doing things this time around, but he still steadily got it ready and lit all of the candles.
“Wonwoo?” He called the other into the room after making him wait, and as soon as he had approached, Mingyu began singing him happy birthday, which honestly felt like Déjà vu. Once he was finished, he waited for the other to blow out the candles, then with a smile, he leaned in to press a long kiss to his lips. “Happy birthday, baby… Juyeon helped me bake the cake, so if it tastes like shit, it’s not my fault.” He softly laughed, stepping behind him to hug him from behind with his good arm and resting his chin on his shoulder.
A lot can change in a year.
This time exactly 365 days ago, he and Mingyu were just friends — perhaps already well on their way to being more than that, but still, just friends. Since, they’d been through some incredibly dark times and some incredibly bright, kissed a million times (roughly), fought (sadly, but also thankfully, deep down somewhere), learnt more about one another, grown. A lot has changed in this year for them both for the better and Wonwoo can’t wait for all the more years to come by Mingyu’s side, but for now, he focuses on today. Wonwoo day.
(Not that every day isn’t Wonwoo day in their home, but today, it’s officially Wonwoo day, and he’s more excited than usual.)
Stay away from the fridge can only mean cake, so from the night before, Wonwoo’s itching for the day to begin. It’s not quite as intense as Christmas, where he feels as if he could jump out of bed at a ridiculous hour of the morning, but it’s enough that he doesn’t want to sleep in quite as long knowing his favourite ‘cake for breakfast’ is on the table. Still, despite loving the ‘surprise’ he’ll have when the treat is finally revealed to him, Wonwoo wonders if he should offer some assistance given the older’s situation, but when his name is called, he knows everything is ready.
(Maybe it’s a little selfish to be so elated at the prospect of receiving all these gifts and efforts, but Wonwoo wouldn’t be this way with anyone else. He’s excited to do these things with Mingyu, not just at all, and that much is clear when he begins to tear up half way through the birthday song.)
“Thank you.” He mumbles, a bright smile stretching his lips once he’s made his wish. I wish Mingyu and I will be by one another’s sides forever; same as every year. He doesn’t expect that’ll change for a long time, and even then, it’ll only be the inclusion of another name. “I’m sure it’s perfect, baby. Thank you and Juyeon for making it for me, but mostly you.” He laughs softly, stretching his palm over Mingyu’s wrapped around him. “So, we’re having cake for breakfast, right?”
Although his way of giving gifts wasn’t as fun or creative as Wonwoo’s, he knew that his boyfriend didn’t mind it either way. He had a lot less to give this year in regards to quantity, but perhaps it would all make up for it in quality. Once the two of them were seated in the living room, Mingyu pulled a small bag from the floor in front of him. “This one isn’t from me. When I went over to my grandfather’s house last night for Juyeon to help me with the cake, he found this and told me to give it to you. Apparently, he found it a few months ago in some of his things and he was keeping it until your birthday since Christmas had already passed.” Honestly speaking, Mingyu didn’t know what it was and he didn’t ask, so the moment that it was pulled from its paper, Mingyu was just as surprised as Wonwoo was, probably. Possibly even more, since he actually recognized it. He stared for a long time before quietly chuckling.
“It’s been… years since I’ve seen that…” He paused, pulling Wonwoo closer against his side as he spoke. “That belonged to me when I was little. I guess when they cleaned out my old house, this was something else that ended up with my grandparents.” He hesitantly pulled his arm from around Wonwoo and reached to brush his fingertips over the plush. “When I was sick or scared, this is what comforted me. My mother used to always bring it with her when she was coming to pick me up from school since I couldn’t take him with me, then I would hold him from the time I got into the car until I fell asleep at night.” He was speaking softly and leaned in to kiss along Wonwoo’s jaw. “I’m glad he found him and gave him to you.” His words were mumbled, and he returned his arm to its place around his boyfriend. “We didn’t know one another back then, but now you have your own little piece of my childhood.”
He rubbed the younger boy’s back for a moment before realizing that now would be a good time for him to give his own gift, so he removed his hand once again to grab the sketchbook from the floor. “This is for you.” He placed it on Wonwoo’s lap and turned open a page, revealing a drawing of him. He turned the pages, showing many sketches of Wonwoo, one or two of Mingyu himself, a few of Sujin, and then various landscapes from the times they’d go on secret dates. “I haven’t been able to add to it, so the pages at the back are blank. I thought I was going to have more time to fill it up, then this happened.” He gestured to his broken arm and chewed on his lower lip. “But, I didn’t want it to ruin my plans of giving it to you.” His hand trailed up and he stroked Wonwoo’s hair, lovingly watching his face as he did so. “You’re so beautiful. Maybe once this heals, I’ll finish it for you. You’re too perfect for me to leave them blank… I could have more sketches of you in there.” His smile widened and he leaned in to kiss his cheek.
“There’s still one last thing, actually. I got the idea from your birthday gift to me, since we both enjoyed it so much.” He reached down and slid an envelope into Wonwoo’s lap, waiting for him to open it to see what was inside. Mingyu decided that he wanted the two of them to spend an entire week, rather than just the weekend, away together. No one would suspect anything since Mingyu already wasn’t working thanks to his broken arm, so it wasn’t as if they’d both take off at the same time. “I’m guessing you’ve never been to Songjeong Beach in Busan… Well, I hope you are willing to spend a week there with me.”
He reached up and softly grabbed Wonwoo’s chin, turning his face so that he was looking at him. He smiled happily before leaning in and capturing his boyfriend’s upper lip between his, then he slightly pulled away. “I love you. I hope I did a good job with everything… I just really want you to have a happy birthday. I don’t want you to have a bad birthday ever again.”
At each mention of the members of Mingyu’s family and their involvement, Wonwoo’s happy smile grows large enough for his thin fingers to reach up to instinctively cover it. The crinkle of his nose is a giveaway to what’s now hidden, but Mingyu knows him more than well enough by now to know that beneath his palm is a blinding smile, so he consciously moves his hand away, especially so when a bag is handed to him. Two hands carefully holding it are sturdier than one, after all. “Grandfather wants me to have something?” He can’t imagine what it could be. Surely anything he found in their family treasures belonged to Mingyu, but he wouldn’t dare go against grandfather’s wishes.
What’s the point in wondering, however, when he can just found out immediately? So, he does. He carefully pulls away the paper to reveal a soft plush inside, something he probably could’ve guessed from the feel of the gift alone had he realised at the time. He’s gently rubbing his fingers over its ears when Mingyu’s quiet chuckle meets his own ears. He takes his eyes off it for the first time to look into Mingyu’s. Even though Wonwoo knows a lot of his childhood memories could easily bring him pain, the older always has a twinkle in his eye of happiness when he reminisces on times with his mother, and no matter how faint that twinkle may be sometimes, it’s one of the most beautiful things Wonwoo’s ever seen. “You’re so fucking cute.” He chuckles quietly as he nuzzles back in once Mingyu settles close again, humming contently as kisses are pressed to his jaw. Maybe one day we can pass it on ourselves, he wonders, but says nothing. Instead, he simply smiles, wide and blissful, as he rubs his thumb against the plush’s soft tummy.
He almost forgets about the rest of his birthday celebrations as Mingyu gently rubs his back. How couldn’t he when he’s as comfortable as can be and has already received a gift far more than he could’ve ever imagined? One thing Wonwoo always felt upset by was the lack of evidence that Mingyu existed before they met in 2014, so now for the both of them to have something of sentimental value and significance from Mingyu’s childhood in their possession? His very own ‘piece’ of a time he desperately wishes he could’ve been part of? Perfect.
That didn’t mean, however, that Mingyu couldn’t top it, or that anything Mingyu had gotten him would mean any less. All it meant is that at any given point in the present giving process, one of them would have the plush sitting on their lap, that’s all.
Once the next gift is in his line of sight, he squeaks excitedly (and embarrassingly). Mingyu is a man of endless talents, and art is possibly Wonwoo’s favourite. When times had gotten tough, art was one of few things that kept Mingyu occupied for so long; it helped him cope, de-stress. Even better, Wonwoo could peacefully enjoy it with him without getting in the way, only ever using scissors, a glue stick and a marker pen to work on his photo scrapbook. To be gifted an (almost) entire sketchbook of his favourite artist in the world’s work… Most of which are of him… Jeon Wonwoo is the luckiest man alive. Mingyu flicks through the pages quickly to show him what’s inside, but Wonwoo plans to go through it all carefully later, regardless. Still, he sees endlessly incredible pieces in flutters — him, Mingyu, Sujin, familiar locations. With a small giggle, he leans into Mingyu’s touch against his hair. “I would really love it if you would. We could do it together. I’ll just pose, of course. I won’t be tainting this masterpiece of a sketchbook with anything I draw.” He grins at the kiss pressed to his cheek. “Thank you, Mingyu. This is—” Hiccup. “—so, so perfect. You’re so insanely talented; my man can do everything.”
But it doesn’t stop there. One last thing, he nods, though technically, Wonwoo plans to gift them both with a million kisses before the clock strikes twelve. He got the idea from me? It all becomes clearer once the envelope is slid onto his lap, and with a much louder squeak that follows an obvious gasp, Wonwoo bounces in his seat. Their last trip had been incredibly fun but Wonwoo had felt as if the weekend alone wasn’t anywhere near enough time for them to really enjoy their break, so seeing (and hearing) one week makes his heart soar even further. “I haven’t, I haven’t.” He insists immediately, wiping at the tears starting to finally trickle down his red cheeks, refusing to acknowledge them. “I am more than willing. Heck, I’d pack right this second if I didn’t want to kiss you for the rest of the day more.”
He gets one kiss to satisfy him for the time being, but the beautiful smile that precedes and follows it is more than enough to keep Wonwoo’s heart warm and giggles on the tip of his tongue. “I love you, too. It’s all perfect; you’re perfect. Thank you so much, baby.” He kisses him softly once more. “And I can promise you that every birthday I spend with you is already a happy birthday, no matter what. I love you more than anything else in the world. You are my world. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Spring was nice. Typically, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the changing of the seasons, or most of the world and things out of his control in general, but today he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pleasure. Things had been going wonderfully, if he’s totally honest with himself. And why wouldn’t he be? Kim Mingyu was content and happier than he’s been in all of his pathetic (until now) life. He was in love. More than in love, really, and it convinced him that there wasn’t a word that could properly describe just how far his feelings stretched.
Thoughtless is typically how he tended to perceive himself. You know, in regards the majority of the Earth’s population, at least. There did just so happen to be a few lucky individuals that often crossed his mind and drove him to want to do good things for them, but not many at all.
The only one that was constantly on his mind, the single person that he continuously wanted to ensure was taken care of and beyond, was Jeon Wonwoo. God, Mingyu was so unbelievably head over heels for his boyfriend. The younger boy had the blond wrapped around his finger. To him, there was no one that existed more beautiful or important.
No special occasion, just simply an act to display just how much he treasured his best friend… Mingyu returned home that day with two items within his possession (technically more, but some just count as one thing, really, so… yeah). One was within a bag that he’d bought from the store, hanging around his bicep as he held the more valuable purchase in his hand.
“Wonwoo?” He called out to the other as he removed his shoes by the door, wondering if he’d stand up from wherever he was to meet him. Quickly, he placed his hand behind his back.
As soon as he spotted the shorter boy, a cheerful, albeit soft, grin tugged at his lips as he stepped closer, closing the space between them until he could lean in to press a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. Before backing away, he mumbled against them, “I brought you something.” His smile increased as he pulled away and removed his hand from behind him, now allowing the flowers that he bought for his boyfriend to be seen.
Lonely. The apartment is lonely when Mingyu isn’t home. It’s a much bigger space than he’s ever been used to, growing up in the smallest room of the house and upgrading to a shitty, cheap apartment. Usually, he loves it. Mingyu’s abundance of space meant more nooks and crannies for him to fill with books, memories, but when Mingyu was out, it was just dead, empty space. Cold — despite the blooming Spring and rising sun outside their windows.
He sits twisted on the sofa, his chin propped up on the arm. A small pout tugs out his bottom lip, a bored hum filling the silence. The wait— Time feels a hundred times slower when he’s waiting for the familiar click of the lock, smooth voice calling out his name, beckoning him to greet him at the door. Bored. He’s so unbelievably bored, and he can’t even fall asleep. Should he watch a movie? Would he even be able to focus? He whines.
Rolling over, he pulls his arms into the torso of Mingyu’s hoodie, tucking his nose into the collar. Home. It smells like home; like warm hugs, hands against bare skin and bed sheets tangled between long legs. It smells like late breakfasts, perched on the older’s lap and chasing pieces of toast as Mingyu taunts his taste buds. It smells like late afternoon naps, ear pressed close enough to hear each thump of Mingyu’s heart. His own heart swells. Love. He’s so deeply in love.
Burying his nose in the cushions, he whines once more. Boredom is unforgiving. When will Mingyu be h—
His head rises in an instant, his hands slowly creeping to the top of his sleeves. ‘Wonwoo?’
(He bruises his knee as he jumps off the sofa, arms not quite through the holes and his balance, grace— both a distant memory.)
“I missed you; welcome home.” He manages before Mingyu is making the final step to press their lips together in a soft kiss. Something’s off, though, and before he gets chance to ask why the older hadn’t held him like always, he gets his answer. “Bought me somethi— Mingyu.”
He’s only a little embarrassed by how easy it is for the taller to make him cry.
Colourful. The apartment is colourful when Mingyu is home. Vibrant shades of pinks paint the walls, orange, their skin under the sunlight streaming through the gap in their bedroom curtains and rose, their lips. Red are the blossoming flowers he holds in shaky hands, and laughable are the tearful ‘thank you’s he mumbles against the older’s warm, bronze skin.
He carefully arranges them in a vase, sits them proudly in the centre of the dining table and spends the next hour getting distracted by them almost every minute. “I love you,” he blurts, thirty-five minutes in, eyes still on the delicate petals. Mingyu laughs, repeats it back, and Wonwoo smiles.
He’s so in love, and he’s so lucky that Mingyu is just as deeply in love with him, too.
is it embarrassing to answer this question with more than anything? even before he met mingyu, wonwoo had dreamt of one day getting married and starting a family. a childhood obsession, a scrapbook of pretty houses with white picket fences and drawings of bouquets and sparkling rings, wonwoo never believed in a reality where he wouldn’t one day have someone to say ‘I do’ with. as he got older and his life took unexpected turns, he still held onto the hope of one day settling down. then, he met mingyu.
for the first time, he felt like that dream would be out of reach. he convinced himself mingyu didn’t have romantic feelings for him, that all his ‘I love you’s and cuddles for comfort were strictly platonic like best friends should be ( he assumes ). he knew he’d never love anyone the way he loved mingyu, that he’d never want anyone else to be by his side, so if mingyu wouldn’t marry him, there’d be no wedding. and that was fine, eventually. not every childhood dream can come true, and he’d rather lose one than lose mingyu.
but then mingyu had kissed him at the end of his ( first ) recovery. he’d brushed his lips against wonwoo’s and they’d talked and kissed a lot more and figured things out and suddenly, everything was possible again. not certain, but possible, and that was enough.
it didn’t take long for him to bring it up, either. mingyu had already known, but whether or not he remembered or realised that now applied to him, wonwoo didn’t know, and that’s why he panics when it accidentally slips into conversation. he can’t even remember now— something about when they’re married, or at their wedding, it didn’t really matter at this point, but mingyu hadn’t flinched away or grimaced. in fact, wonwoo wouldn’t hesitate to say he looked even fonder in the heat of the moment. a little communication went a long way and they agreed to do all the things wonwoo had always wanted together in the future. at first, he’d felt a little guilty, but mingyu reassured him he’d just never really thought about those things before him— before hopeless romantic jeon wonwoo entered his life and flipped it all upside down.
so, “yes, one day,” he’d love to get married. not a big, flashy event, but something small and sophisticated and plenty for their more private natures. he’s in no rush, though. neither of them are going anywhere in the mean time, after all.
