#mingyu angst

20:23 (i love you so.)

pairings: kim mingyu x g/n reader

genre: angst, some fluff, mutual pining, (un)requited love, reader likes lying to themselves, exes but also !soulmate au?

wc:1.7k

(a/n: kind of my first serious drabble on this blog, ya’ll i dont even know what this is. i just blacked out and started typing shit at 1 am last night. was originally supposed to be around 20k aka a full length fic but hmm. gyuldaengies i am here to inform all of you with regret that i am one of you now /j. music inspo for this was ‘i love you so’ by the walters, feel free to listen to it as you read this steaming mess! special thanks to @beyoncesdragonand@praninllove for being the sweetest hypepeople ever pls)

Loneliness strikes the hardest when one hopes for company.

You nearly trip on the extension box uselessly lying on the floor with oodles of wire splayed out uselessly. You had forgotten to reel it back in after using it for your laptop last night. Who in their right mind lived in a bedroom with a singular plug point? You briefly reminisce about Seungkwan nearly punching the life out of your landlord before moving out of this apartment the both of you had originally agreed on cohabiting. The tiny smile that makes your lips curl up is involuntary but definitely not unwelcome. Where was he anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to be here with Chan already? You whip out your phone and cradle it between your head and your neck before squatting down to reel all the excess, neglected wire from the extension box back in.

The phone rings, and it doesn’t take long for your best friend of five years to pick up and growl unabashedly.

“We’re still on our way, (name). Stop calling!”

Your neck cracks, and the mobile almost slips as you whip your head to look at the clock on your wall. “On your way from where, Jeju? What in the world is taking you so long?”

There is a windy yell followed by a smack on the other end of the line. You also hear lots of panting, and that’s when it clicks.

“You’re..walking to my place.”

“Our ride broke down.” It’s Chan’s voice in your ear now.

“Well damn.” You get up and dust your pants a little before shoving the cursed wire filled box under your bed with your right foot. You really didn’t care how convenient it was at this point, you were never going to use it again for the foreseeable future. “How far along are you?”

“We’re on the bridge!”

Too late for them to go back then. Maybe they could crash at your place for the night before they got their crap together, it wasn’t like they lived ten minutes apart from you after all. You tell them this, and they agree. You end the call after you hear Seungkwan threatening to hurl Chan off the bridge for walking close enough to him to constantly end up stepping on his toes.

It’s hard not to let their chaos affect you. You feel a little ready to have fun, a little young and reckless despite all of that dreary paperwork sitting on your coffee table. Most of it was due on Monday. Was today Friday already? ‘Course it was, that was why Seungkwan and Chan were coming over. Movie nights were a tradition the three of you had followed since your university days no matter how hard life was going down on you. It was a tradition you followed even when you were at your worst, why would you jam the brakes on it when the only thing holding you back was an ugly stack of papers?

You weren’t inherently an organized person, but you were willing to try every once in a while. You scuttle around the apartment, intently scouring all the rooms for anything out of place. Existing seemed a little easier on days like these, days when you didn’t have to worry about everything at once. Days like these were like a hot balloon slowly drooping down to the ground just for you. You could climb on and feel lighter, you could feel yourself float away from everything that haunted you on all the nights you couldn’t will yourself to go to sleep.

The doorbell rings. Pizza guy or your friends?

It was neither of them. Your hot balloon deflates a little, and then it pops, harshly flinging you back into reality.

“Oh.”

Why was hehere?

Mingyu’s eyes widen when they fall upon you. He looks confused, a little frustrated even. He’s dressed to impress, with his hair neatly slicked back and a (riskily positioned) Rolex on his wrist. Heat rushes to your neck, because you’re suddenly growing very aware of your messy bun, your bare face and your unbelievably embarrassing Totoro pajamas. The primal urge to pat yourself down was growing exponentially by the minute.

You resort to staring blankly at the unopened bottle of wine with a pink bow around its neck dangling from his hand for almost a full minute before you look up at his denim jacket and clear your throat. “Can I help you?”

The confusion in your voice seems to stir him out of a stupor you didn’t know he was trapped in. He was fumbling for his phone now. “Sorry uh, I think I got the wrong door. I had no idea you lived here.”

His tone is a little distant, just like yours. You wonder when your friends would swoop in to save you from this mess of an interaction.

“Okay.”

Mingyu looks the same. It’s not like a person could drastically morph into a stranger in such a short span of time. Interacting with him was inevitable with that soul bond you both had. You two were always somehow bumping into each other at the worst places and times imaginable. That split he had razored into his eyebrow that you had noticed for the very first time when you had catastrophically rammed your trolley into his very full one at the convenience store nearly a week ago was still there. Maybe it had dulled a little, you couldn’t tell. You make the rookie mistake of unconsciously looking for that ever present mole on his cheek, and you almost bite the tip of your tongue when something familiar, something so delicate and longing threatens to seize your breath.

The opposite poles of a magnet were meant to pull each other with a lot of force, but what if they didn’t want that? Ironic. Mingyu did feel like everything you could ever possibly want, but why did he also feel like something too good to be true, something you could never have?

You’re brought back from your reverie when he coughs a little into his fist before the call connects and he raises the slightly cracked screen of his phone to his lips. “Hi babe, I think I got your door number wrong? Was it not 314?”

He was probably on a date then. Was it okay to assume? You’ve never heard him call any of his friends “babe”, so. It didn’t really matter to you anyways. It was another one of those silly little mistakes, him colliding with your day like this. He was going to leave soon, you could go back to waiting for Seungkwan and Chan, and before long, the three of you would be buried neck deep in the plot of a chunky psychological thriller. Everything was going to be fine, you weren’t going to let this ruin your day anymore.

“314? I’m at 314 though?” He’s still here, and he’s still on the phone. His hands were moving a little too wildly for someone carrying a wine bottle. Why was he even holding the neck of the bottle like it was the hilt of a sword? Wasn’t he supposed to be holding the body?

Foreshadowing was one hell of a bitch. You were right, unbearably so. There were glass shards everywhere, and all you saw was red. You weren’t seeing red because you were mad, there was red wine all over the welcome carpet right at the entrance of your apartment.

“Fuck.” He’s bending down haphazardly, panic lacing his actions. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t-”

“That’s alright.” You’re almost swatting him away from the ground, away from all those glass shards. The last thing you wanted to do with your time tonight was spend it with Kim Mingyu at the E.R. “I’ll clean this up, don’t worry.”

Don’t worry? You mentally curse yourself for sounding so stupid as you walk further into your apartment to get a dish filled with water, a wet rag and some disinfectant to get rid of all the sour wine smell. He’s still standing outside when you return, and you’re positive he’s staring at you when you messily fold your sleeves to start tidying up the floor, to start tidying up the pandemonium threatening to spill from the broken wine bottle inside your heart. “You don’t have to run late to your-” you catch yourself in time-”whatever, the bottle technically crashed inside my apartment, I can fix that myself. Just buy a new one or something.”

Maybe this was all you could do for him. A man you once knew, a man you (once, emphasis on the once) loved. You could let him go. You could clean up the mess you were maybe partially responsible for and wish him the best.

Maybe this was the only way you could care now.

Mingyu’s eyes narrow a little at your words. You try not to groan audibly when he (finally) steps inside and crouches down right beside you. Your shoulders are touching, the proximity is too much for you, and you try not to pop a vein when he pulls out a wet rag from a bucket and starts collecting all the small, dangerous glass pieces with quick, deft movements. This was out of your hands then, the fucker was definitely going to stain his denim-fuelled ensemble now.

“Ibroke the bottle inside yourplace, it doesn’t make sense for you to be doing this.”

Cool. How were you going to tell him you were doing it because you wanted him to be gone as quickly as possible and not because you didn’t want him running late for his date? It’s a little too domestic for your taste, the both of you hastily arguing over which corners of the room you were going to cover. It was waytoo domestic, the way he had to stretch his arm over your shoulder and pick up an ugly piece of green glass you had previously missed. You try your best to not grow comfortable, you try not to let the warmth from his demeanor seep into your bones.

You fail miserably.

“(name).”

“Mm?”

“It’s not a date. she’s just a friend.”

Your heart cracks a little. A bitter laugh bubbles from your lips as you throw down a fresh rag on a particularly wine-soaked spot a little too aggressively for your taste.

“Right. I never asked, though.”

how mingyu says “i love you” for the first time

you catch a glimpse of his shadow by the window near your own and you start to wonder why his lights are still on and the vibrations on your wall isn’t helping with the headache that is currently pounding your temples in pain. you’ve been forcing yourself to sleep for the past hour but your neighbour had an agenda of his own and now here you are, sporting a headache and the bubbling anger within you is soon to make an appearance if he doesn’t shut up in the next minute.

you see, it wasn’t always like this. you got along with your neighbour, mingyu was warm and sweet, liked to help you bring your groceries up to your apartment, greeted your dog like his own and he even went as far as cooking you a meal once in a while when he made “too much”. but somehow, along the way, his attitude shifted and gone were the days he warmed your heart.

the crash of a bed frame took you out of your trance, and you decided it was time to be an asshole in return. you grabbed your hoodie and placed it over you and next, you took your phone in hand with 911 already typed out on your screen.

you walk to his apartment clad in pyjama bottoms and your hoodie, and you knock. you knock so furiously that it doesn’t take him much time to open his door with drooping eyes and a boyish smirk on his face.

“oh hey neighbour,” his voice slurs and you instantly get a whiff of the alcohol reeking from his sweat soaked body. “can you please for the love of god keep it down?” you plead, tears already lining your eyes because one, you hated confrontations and two, you’re goddamn tired from the hell week your boss put you through. the endless samples he assigned you to analyse and the not to mention the missing samples that disappeared from the PCR machine.

“oh come on neighbour it’s my birthday, give me some slack,” he grins goofily and if you weren’t so angry at his being, you heart would’ve swooned at the sight but it didn’t. you raise your hand up where your phone is and you click your screen.

“what the fuck, did you just call 911?”

“you bet,” you smirk, walking away from your neighbour and leaving him gobsmacked and sobered.

—

he’s still annoyed with you. he’s annoyed at the fact that you called the cops on him after having too many drinks and blasting music until the early hours of the morning. he took advantage of the fact that his neighbours adored him, bar you, and the fact that your neighbours are all elderly people that use hearing aids.

he catches a glimpse of you in the elevator and he almost backs away but when he sees you struggling with a box, his conscience tells him to help you even though he knows how he gets on your nerves.

“new furniture?” he asks, taking your box easily into his arms and you almost complain but your arms are tired and your body is exhausted beyond relief. you don’t answer him and he doesn’t bother pressing you on any further. when you finally arrive on your floor, you expected him to drop it off by your feet and walk over to his own apartment but to your surprise, he walks ahead of you and waits for you to open the door.

“where do you want me to put this?” he peers over at you and that’s when he notices the bags under your eyes and your sunken cheeks. “have you been eating properly?” he places the box in the living room and he makes his way to your kitchen to snoop around. he finds different take away boxes and he notes how your fridge is almost empty.

“you’re eating at my apartment, let’s go,” he grabs your hand and you don’t have any energy to protest so you let him lead you into his apartment. you even let him sit you down on the kitchen counter and he proceeds to busy himself with preparing your first meal of the day. you didn’t mean to skip your meals, but the lab was just so busy this week that you forgot to take them altogether.

this wasn’t new to you. he used to make you meals while you were clad in his oversized t-shirt, fresh out of the shower while you ogled his bare back. he’d often turn around and give you his infamous smirks which made your heart skip a few beats in return.

“how long has it been since your last meal?” he looks over his shoulder for a second and you avoid his gaze and shrug instead. you hear him sigh, and he turns off the stove momentarily. mingyu walks over to stand in front of you. he slots himself between your thighs, rubbing soft circles on them as he coaxes you to look at him.

“come on sweetheart, won’t you look at me?” he whispers, leaning down to catch your eyes with his own and when he finally does, he sees your tearful face and he suddenly regrets being the meanest ex-boyfriend to exist. “why’d you have to turn into such an asshole?” you sob, smacking his chest with your fist. he grabs your wrists and he pulls you into him. your body shakes with every tear you let out and he lets you cling on to him as if your life depended on it, as if he was the only person that can keep you afloat.

“i-i didn’t mean to,” he huffs out, instantly regretting his words because nothing he can say or do can justify how he treated you after your hasty break up. your relationship lasted as they all do, but the mess that came afterwards caused a rift between you and mingyu and it was never the same.

“you’re an ass,” you sniffle, removing yourself from his embrace and he instantly grabs ahold of your cheeks. he wipes your remaining tears with his thumbs and you bask in the warmth from his hands and you almost melt in his hold.

“i love you,” he says out of the blue. your heart beats rapidly at his words that he failed to utter when you were still together.

“b-but didn’t you have someone over last night?” you gasp, tears starting to line your eyes again. he looks as you in confusion first and a sign of relief takes over his face once he realises what you were talking about.

“i’m pretty sure that was wonwoo and his girlfriend,” he grimaces, making a mental note to change his sheets before he sleeps.

“oh.”

“yeah.”

you sniffle again and he helps you wipe your tears from your face.

“so you love me?”

“you don’t say.”