YOU'RE A GIRL?! | MINGI [ 에이티즈 ]
TROPES: Childhood friends, non-idol au, fluff, rom-com, misunderstandings.
SYNOPSIS: You and Mingi have been friends since the time your brain first learned to hold on to memories. An inseparable pair born from a bitter feud over a mango flavoured juice box. You shared everything. Did everything together. You even got matching haircuts once. Proper bros through and through. It’s been eight years since Mingi last saw you. He expected you’d be taller. Maybe a little broader. Or maybe you’d finally stop dressing like you lost a bet to Winnie the Pooh. Change was only natural, after all. But what he didn't expect was this...were you always this pretty of a guy?
TAGS: @decaffeinatedmom01 @bluberrymuffinn
At age four, you swore Mingi would be your lifelong nemesis.
Mainly because he stole the only pack of Mango juice left on the round table during kindergarten.
Everyone else got the flavours they wanted.
And you even remember him shoving it in your face, slowly sipping his mango juice-box whilst you were stuck with orange.
Plain, old, boring orange.
You remember tackling him to the ground not long after, but that was the extent of your memory for that day.
Then, at age eleven, you realised that Mingi was a helpless idiot.
This was after you had already somehow managed to build a strong enough friendship where the both of you would refrain from killing each other purely based on stolen juice-boxes and instincts.
“Hey! Go away! LEAVE HIM ALONEEEE!”
Little feet hurried over with manic flailing arms. A tiny you jumped to the rescue at the piglet squeal of your best friend.
“Ugh! Great. It's this weirdo, again. Let's get out of here before—”
The main bully's eyes widening in fear.
Your smoothly connected shoe against his stupidly dumbfounded face.
With a pained grunt, the bully tumbled on the ground, hand clasping his jaw as streaks of tears began to trail down his cheeks.
“You better stay away from him! OR I'LL—”
Your small fingers signalled a knife to your throat before pointing towards them menacingly.
With a dirty glare, the bullies gathered themselves before making their stumbling escape.
“That's right! Run away you COWARDS!”
You stood tall and proud in your little dungarees and brightly spotted Iron-Man shirt, hands resting comfortably on your hip like some off-brand superhero.
Soft sniffles broke your concentration.
A curled-up Mingi was left cuddling himself on the ground. His clothes tattered, skin dirtied, and a growing bruise on his forehead.
Finally taking in his sight, you gasped, running towards him like a dramatic heroine.
“Mingi! Can you hear me? MINGI DON'T LEAVE ME! DON'T Do tHiS TO mE! NOOO—”
“SHUT UP YOU IDIOT! YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE ME GO DEAF!”
You immediately shut your mouth.
“Ha...” A frustrated sigh. “Those cheaters ambushed me. I was totally going to win if it was one on one like we originally agreed.”
“You agreed to fight those bums?”
He stayed silent. Nothing but a stupidly proud smirk to his lips.
Well. Turns out he proposed the fight.
“But you're weak as hell—OW!”
He threw a punch to your shoulder and shot you a soft glare.
“Sheesh...” you pouted, massaging your arm. “I didn't even lie though.”
“I wanted to prove myself without you butting in!” He stood up, his height just about the same size as you.
“Yeah, well...well you should've won then!”
“I was going to do that before you came flying in like Columbus!”
“Columbus doesn't fly! He was an architect or something, so you got that wrong!”
You watched his chest rise and fall as he threw his hands up in the air, his pent up frustration spilling out all at once.
“I wanted to win that fight. I wanted to be strong...like you. I wanted to be able to jump in and help you, one day.”
Your breaths slowed at his words.
“What, you wanted me to leave you there and watch you get beat up like a loser?”
You both shared an ice cream after that. Completely forgetting the harsh words you spewed towards each other.
At age fourteen, you noticed that Mingi was starting to grow a smidge taller than you.
You also noticed that he was far too up-his-own-ass to notice the bare minimum.
“And then Betsy, you know, the pretty one, called me over and said she likes my highlights. I think she's totally into me."
He raised a brow. “Woah, what's with the reaction? Just because you're Mr. Popular with the girls doesn't mean I don't get my fair share of attention!”
Your footsteps halted. Pursing your lips in thought, you replayed his comment, bathing further in your ego.
“Wait... I'm popular with the girls?” You questioned, loosening the grip of your collar whilst sending a lazy smile to one of your passing female classmates.
She blushed within seconds and took off running after a shy wave of the hand.
“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I do it for you.”
“Anyway, I'm not interested in the girls.” You nudged him gently, making sure to keep eye contact as you said so.
“You aren't? Well then tell them to come my way. I think I'd be the world's greatest man with just a fraction of your—”
“Hey! Where did that come from? What did I do?!”
You pulled him off to the side, his back hitting the wall. Your hands held his shoulders in place as you inched your face closer to his.
You gazed deep into his eyes.
“Mingi. Look at me. Really look at me. Don't you get it? Haven't you noticed?”
His ears began to redden at the intensity of your stare. Mouth suddenly feeling dry.
Up close you were more...soft-looking(?) than he thought. No wonder you were popular with the girls. Heck, he'd probably have fallen for you too, in different circumstances.
He cleared his throat, trying again.
Your eyes shamelessly followed his lips.
Your eyes widened with hope.
“Did you get a new haircut or something?”
Closing your eyes, you patted his arm twice, before walking off wordlessly, leaving a clueless Mingi behind.
“Wait! I'm sorry, come back! If it's not your hair then...did you forget to shower or something? You wore your boxers inside out? WHAT IS IT?!”
Just a few years later, around age sixteen, you realised your feelings for Mingi were probably one-sided.
It was also the year your family decided to move away.
You had told him during your routinely hang out session after school.
The park was too crowded, so you both opted to visit your home instead.
He was hanging upside-down on your bed, scrolling through his phone when your voice spoke up.
“What would you do if I had to move away?”
He nearly fell off the bed.
“What do you mean, what would I do, obviously I'd move with you.” He struggled to reposition himself and after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he lay flat on your bed instead and looked at you.
“What's with the sudden question, anyway?”
Your silence suddenly felt off.
“No reason. Just curious—”
You flinched at how fast he caught you out.
He was always good at that. Knowing when you were lying. For such an idiot, he was surprisingly perceptive, at times.
“Why did you really ask?”
You mindlessly looked around your plain room.
You wanted to avoid answering that question so bad.
“You're leaving. Aren't you.” He said it like a definite statement. Like he could see through you.
The silence in the room grew suffocating.
“I mean...define 'leaving'” you tried to joke, but neither of you laughed.
Mingi stayed quiet for a long time. Something you weren't used to from him.
Then, he slowly got up from your bed, and walked out of your room.
That was the last time you physically saw him.
He had called you up, a few days later. Spurred by your absence from school and the guilt gnawing at his stomach from his immature behaviour that day.
He asked whether it'd be okay to see you again.
You know. To apologise. Face to face.
You didn't know, but he already knew that.
His phone hung loosely in his arm as he stood in front of your family home. Your voice on the other end.
“I'm sorry.” You had said. And for a split second Mingi's frustrated resentment from the other day came bubbling up all over again.
For leaving him in such a short notice. For getting his hopes up for years, thinking you'd always be together.
His eyes stared past the glass windows of the house, blankly looking into the empty property.
For never growing strong enough to be honest with you. For never fully appreciating the time he had with you. For feeling mad at you even though he knew it wasn't your fault.
His fingers rose to ring the bell.
The bell he had been pointlessly ringing for the past two hours.
Even if he knew no one would answer.
Maybe. Just maybe... you'd magically appear behind the door and say that it was all a stupid joke.
The silence dragged on for another minute.
His best friend. The only person that truly knew him through and through.
The person he had started to unmistakably grow feelings for despite trying so hard to ignore them for so long.
“It's okay.” He repeated, more so to himself.
His head hung low as he rested it against the wooden door to your past home. Tiny droplets slowly decorated the top of his school shoes.
His shoulders shook silently.
And that was the last time Mingi had spoken to you.
And then came the day where he heard your name being mentioned.
At a random paint-balling event where he was trying his hardest to live his 'best life' because Wooyoung wouldn't stop pestering him about making his twenties “worth it.”
At first he thought he was hearing things. But then it got repeated again and he was convinced it might've just been another person with the same name.
“Are you even listening to me?” Yunho raised a questioning brow his way.
“I said, we need to move in close, otherwise we'll never eliminate them.”
“Oh.” Was all Mingi could say.
He didn't even want to be here in the first place, so his lack of enthusiasm wasn't too surprising.
“Right. At my count, you move to the left, and I'll move to the right.”
The tall male just shrugged.
Holding his gun in a way that was too serious for paint-ball, Yunho signalled his count, quickly crouching and making his run to his designated direction.
Mingi followed at half his speed, splitting off to the left, as discussed. Sighing, he checked the magazine of his gun, getting ready to aim at the person that hid behind the bush, around twenty metres away from him.
“I could be playing on my pc right now.”
A swift movement caught his eye.
The person behind the bush had changed cover.
Great. Now he actually had to play the game seriously.
Keeping his gun close, he quietly neared his target.
He was now just on the other side of the bush.
“Nyahahaha! I win!” The stranger continued shooting a tremendous waterfall of bullets, completely ignoring Mingi's pained laments.
“Hey! Cut it out, you psycho!”
The shooting only ceased due to the person's magazine running empty.
And as the freshly labelled "psycho" that they were, they continued to pull the trigger regardless. The constant subtle clicks of the gun filling in the silence.
“Gosh, this is why I didn't want to come in the first place.” A grumpy Mingi rose from his position, standing tall in front of the other stranger.
Without much thought, he removed his helmet and shades, carelessly tossing them on the ground as he tousled his hair in mild irritation.
For once, the clicking to the gun stopped.
At the uncharacteristic silence, Mingi lifted his gaze to meet the stranger's. Their helmet was clearly too big for them, shades hiding the majority of their face.
He lazily took one long look up and down, then started walking back towards where he knew Yunho would be.
“No.” Mingi said without even turning back.
A confused sound left the stranger.
“Whatever you want to ask, I refuse it.”
A beat of silence. Then the stranger spoke up.
“Ayo, what a fricking weirdo.”
Mingi felt one of his veins pop.
“Come again?” He growled under his breath, turning to stand face to face with the person.
He was already annoyed at the way his day was going. He didn't need another catalyst riling him up right now.
“I said,” the stranger started, beginning to remove their own gear. First the helmet, then the shades.
You ruffled your sweaty hair, then stared straight at him with no particular emotion.
“You've become a weirdo.”
That's what Mingi looked like.
With wide eyes and a hanging jaw, he stared at you endlessly.
Meanwhile, you stared back, the smallest spec of surprise behind your casual gaze.
“Dang. You don't look happy to see m—”
You were engulfed in a hug before you could even finish your sentence.
Warm arms squished you tightly, reluctant to let go.
“Actually, wait.” You were pulled back. “Why do you look like that?”
Did you always say his name so smoothly?
Mingi cleared his throat, nudging his jaw towards you like some sort of secret code.
You wordlessly blinked at him.
Were you always this pretty of a guy?
And why were you so...normal sized?
He half expected you to resemble Dwayne Johnson by now. Especially with the way you were down to fight just about anyone, when you were younger.
You genuinely hit the hardest facepalm you've ever hit in your entire life.
For a moment, you stood there, hand still on your face whilst Mingi watched you with conflicting emotions.
“I—” You started in disbelief. “I genuinely don't even know what to say.”
You refrained from punching him in the mouth.
“Mingi. It's been eight years...”
“And that's the first thing you say to me? ...Are you dumb?”
“Oh! I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just meant you look...” he appeared troubled, searching for the right word to say until—
“Like, really pretty. I'm not even sure if that's the way I should be saying it but... that's how I feel so.” His dark orbs followed the way your expression buffered.
“Oh! Funny thing, actually—I mean, we have a lot of catching up to do—but before that, I wanted to tell you real quick—”
You came back to your senses at his yapping.
His face sprouted in a bright blush at the familiar nickname.
You opened your mouth to say something but he urgently interrupted you.
“I mean, I liked you. Back then, you know. I know you might not be into that kinda thing— I don't even know if I am, but I just wanted to let you know because I mean—oh, actually now that I think about it, that was dumb of me, forget what I sa—”
“MINGI! Shut the hell UP for a second, DAMN!”
His lips quickly straightened into a thin line.
Well, at least you knew he was still a yapper. That didn't change despite it nearly being a decade later.
“First of all. I am NOT a guy. I have no idea how this much time has passed and you genuinely didn't notice that.”
His brain stopped working.
“You didn't think it was weird that I wouldn't go to the toilet with you? Or that I'd have to use separate changing rooms to you?”
His eyes were practically hazed over at your revelation.
“And second, yeah, I liked you too. But you never even made it seem like you liked me back, and now I'm mad because you deprived me of my cliché teenage romance era.”
Your face grew red the more you spoke.
Both out of disbelief at the audacity of this guy truly going this long without realising the obvious, and at the fact that you were embarrassed to admit you liked him back then. Especially since it had been so long ago.
Mingi, the poor guy, was still stuck on the brand new information that you were, in fact, not just a suspiciously female-looking male.
“Is that seriously all you took away from this?”
“And considering you liked me despite thinking I was a guy, I'd double-check that claim.”
“Wait...” he continued, his selective hearing once again being triggered.
You stood there quietly, watching this big, six foot, broad-shouldered dumbass try to get his thoughts into a coherent timeline.
After a while, you simply said.
“You make me want to cry.”
And started to walk off to where you hoped your game partner was likely waiting for you.
Of course, much like old times, Mingi tailed you like a lost puppy, assaulting you with a barrage of unanswered questions he'd been marinating for eight years.
Why did you leave so suddenly?
Why did your contact change?
And most importantly: Did you still like him now?
He never stopped liking you.
Never stopped thinking about you.
He practically went through life on auto-pilot after you left.
Would you leave like last time?
Would you tear him apart and isolate his feelings again?
“I can hear your yearning thoughts. Stop that.”
“Oh.” He gave a very slow blink. “My bad.”
You were both back at the main centre.
Someway, somehow, both your partners were still having probably the most intense battle of paint-ball known to man.
“So,” he started, repeatedly stealing glances your way. “Hypothetically speaking...”
You cocked your head towards him, watching him struggle to form a sentence. Your eyes naturally flitted to his lips.
He swallowed down harshly.
“Do you—no. Would you be open to explore our past feelings?”
Repeated blinking. Sweat pooling at his temples. A nervous smile.
You watched on without a word for what felt like minutes, to Mingi.
His arms languidly flew in the air, shrugging in false nonchalance.
“If you're that eager, who am I to refus—”
You pulled his collar towards you, swiftly connecting his lips to yours.
It didn't matter how many years passed, Song Mingi could never, and would never be able to sustain his cool demeanour around you.
He melted into the kiss like he had been starving for it. Lips moving in perfect sync to yours whilst following your lead.
His hand went to gently tilt your face. He deepened the kiss, softly melding against your touch. He was so ready to give you anything and everything. You just had to name it.
His joints grew weak as you put some distance between you, breaking the intimate moment after the shortest seconds Mingi has ever felt.
A brittle whimper slipped past his lips.
You raised an egotistical brow.
He furiously coughed, trying to play it off like nothing happened.
“Does that answer your question?” You spoke in a calm tone, eyes boring into his.
Sheepish, yet all the more shameless, Mingi gave you one of his signature smirks. His pearly white teeth matching perfectly with his goofy smile.
“I think I might need to revisit your answer. For research purposes—”
The two of you separated like you were contagious to one another.
A confused Yunho stood before you both. His eyes roamed to you, then slowly made their way to lock with Mingi's. He took one look at the state of both your faces, took a step back, and faced another direction.
“Erm...was I...interrupting something or?”
Another head popped up from behind Mingi's partner.
Your friend waved at you, looking like an Art Attack presentation.
You awkwardly sent a thumbs up, trying to hide your plumped lip.
“Well... if you're done here, we can go?”
Angling his face to the both of you, Yunho's eyes waited on Mingi, who was furiously crossing his legs and nodding like an automated Christmas toy.
He hurried over to you, stole your phone from your back pocket, punched in his details and promptly bolted out the door in search for a safeplace.
Your eyes fell to your phone screen.
You had to hold back your laugh, because what the hell was that? Who needs that many hearts in a contact name?
“What's with the grin?” your friend materialised next to you, shoulder-bumping you gently.
You immediately straightened your face.
“No, seriously. What grin?” Having paid for your experience, you walked back to your car with your friend in tow, still playfully arguing.
A stupid grin on your face.
And a new stupid contact that you were sure to never let go of again.
At today years old, you finally realised that you'd long forgiven Song Mingi for stealing your mango juice box.
