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ceinturedorionPairing: Ong Seongwu/Hwang Minhyun
Fandom: Wanna one, NU'EST
Rating: Mature
one: forget the world around you (drown with me tonight)
Seongwu held his phone steady, the camera lens perfectly capturing Minhyun’s profile as he strolled down the sunlit pavement. They had just left the café, cold cups of coffee in hand, and Minhyun was currently turning the sidewalk into a personal editorial shoot without even trying.
Normally, getting Seongwu to leave his apartment on a perfectly good weekend was an exercise in futility. He was a well-known homebody. During the years since Wanna One’s disbandment, when they’d stopped sharing the same living space, their routine had been practically set in stone: Minhyun would come over, they’d order takeout, and they would spend an obscene amount of time tangled up on Seongwu’s couch, talking until their voices went hoarse. That was where they lived–in the quiet, private bubble of Seongwu’s living room, constantly toeing the invisible line between what they had been before and whatever it was that they’d called themselves now.
They still refused to use the word “ex-boyfriends”, despite it truly being what they were.
What had started with a hurried backstage kiss in the heat of their post-performance adrenaline had fizzled down to a warm friendship the moment Minhyun decided it was time to end things. There had been no dramatic fallout, no screaming match–just a quiet, devastating conversation in a dim dorm room the night before their final concert. Minhyun, ever the pragmatist with years of industry experience under his belt, had decided that as their paths diverged, a clean break was the only way their careers would survive. They had talked about this before that final conversation, but Seongwu admittedly hadn’t taken Minhyun seriously until that very moment. Armed with zero experience and a heart entirely too full of Minhyun to ever deny him anything, Seongwu could only swallow his own grief, smile gently, and agree.
Still, whatever it was that they were now–friends? best friends?, no label ever seemed adequate–did not seem to interfere with the new routine they’d established for themselves. The catch was that whenever Seongwu dared to initiate something that crossed that line, Minhyun never, ever pulled away.
Today, however, the weather was nicer than usual, with the sun peeking from the clouds that still loomed over Seoul warming up the city. They had been busy, too busy to find time for each other lately, and that made Seongwu uncharacteristically sentimental–just enough to finally indulge Minhyun’s sudden whim for an actual afternoon out in the sun.
When Minhyun glanced at Seongwu through the lens of the phone, his eyes curved into crescents, a hint of the smirk playing on his lips underneath the mask. He knew exactly what he was doing to Seongwu. He always had.
“Are you still recording?”, Minhyun asked, his voice carrying that familiar, low cadence that, seven years post-breakup, still managed to send an annoying jolt straight to Seongwu’s chest.
“We never document anything we do together”, Seongwu muttered, deliberately keeping his eyes fixed on the screen rather than the man in front of him. “Turn around. Walk naturally. Don’t look at the camera.”
Instead of complying, Minhyun stopped completely. He pivoted and closed the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps until he was entirely filling the frame, his chest almost brushing against Seongwu's phone. He leaned down, catching Seongwu’s gaze over the top of the device.
"I thought you just liked looking at me, Seongwu," Minhyun practically purred.
Seongwu nearly dropped his phone, quickly hitting the stop button and shoving the phone into his pocket, pushing his mask further up his face to hide how flustered he was. “You’re impossible. Drink your coffee.”
"Only because you make it so easy," Minhyun teased, his eyes crinkling in amusement as they resumed their walk. He casually bumped his shoulder against Seongwu's, lingering just a second longer than strictly necessary. A ghost of how they used to walk.
They eventually settled onto a shaded park bench to finish their drinks. Seongwu pulled his phone back out, swiping through the camera roll to review the footage. There were dozens of photos of Minhyun holding his cup, adjusting his jacket, laughing at something Seongwu had said.
Seongwu swiped further. “Did you bring yours?”, he asked without looking at Minhyun.
“My what?”, Minhyun asked, glancing at him.
“Your camera”, Seongwu replied, slightly frustrated. “I thought we were going out to take some nice pictures of the view.”
Minhyun let out a little flustered laugh. “Ah, I did, but…”
Seongwu glanced back at him, giving him a knowing look. “You forgot to charge it again?”
A light, bubbly laugh escaped Minhyun’s lips. “I can’t say you don’t know me well.”
“I know everything about you, Hwang Minhyun”, Seongwu replied casually. It wasn’t a brag, and they both knew it.
Minhyun leaned back against the wooden bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “If you know everything, then you should have known I’d forget the battery and brought your own camera.”
“I brought my iPhone”, Seongwu pointed out, gesturing with the device. “Which I’ve been using exclusively to document your existence for the past hour. You dragged me out of my apartment, made me walk halfway across the city in search of an empty coffee shop, and now I’m doing unpaid promotional labor for you.”
Minhyun tilted his head, closing his eyes in laughter. “You didn’t have to say yes. You could have stayed on your couch.”
“You said you were buying me coffee”, Seongwu shot back, feeling entirely defensive. “Besides, I was bored. I ran out of your vlogs to watch when I texted you.”
“And I did buy you coffee.” Minhyun tapped his iced cup against Seongwu’s. “Now I’m providing you with more entertainment. I’d say I’m being a very generous host for this little outing.”
Seongwu scoffed, feeling a familiar warmth creep up his neck. “If you think buying me a single Americano makes up for making me put on real pants on a Saturday, you’re delusional. This is the worst date I’ve ever been on.”
The word date slipped out before Seongwu could catch it. As usual, his mouth was always faster than his brain, and that hadn’t changed in the nine years he and Minhyun had known each other.
Minhyun didn’t flinch. He never retreated when Seongwu slipped up or pushed the boundaries. Instead, the teasing light in his eyes softened into something so fond it made Seongwu’s chest ache. He reached over the small space between them, lightly tracing his fingertips over Seongwu’s knuckles before wrapping his hand securely around Seongwu’s wrist.
It only made the ache in Seongwu’s chest worse.
“I can think of a few worse ones”, Minhyun whispered, his voice dropping low enough to make the ambient noise of the park fade away for a moment. “But if this is a date, I suppose I owe you dinner to make up for my photographic shortcomings.”
Seongwu felt the heat on his neck rush violently to his cheeks, the old grief briefly washing away under the intensity of Minhyun’s gaze. He groaned, pulling his hand back just to cover his face. “You’re driving me up a wall today, and out in the streets of all places. Do you ever turn it off?”
Minhyun chuckled–a warm, resonant sound that Seongwu had spent seven years trying and failing to forget. “Not when it comes to you.”
Underneath the mask, Seongwu opened his mouth to make a fond but indignant retort, but a low squeal coming from a short distance from them made him stop.
Two girls had recognized them. They weren’t about to approach them, but they could now hear their banter. Whatever it was that Seongwu had been about to say died in his throat.
Minhyun noticed it, too. “Hey, about dinner…”, he started in a quiet voice.
“Yeah, let’s go. I know a place”, Seongwu replied just as Minhyun trailed off.
The place Seongwu claimed to know, it turned out, was crawling with people. The evening crowds of Seocheon had swelled, and they were met with a long waiting list stretching out the door.
Navigating the streets to find an alternative proved to be a harsh reality check. It didn’t take long for more people to recognize them as they made their way across the crowd. Seongwu watched the shift in Minhyun happen in real time: the playful, flirty man from the park bench had vanished, and Minhyun immediately wore his idol persona back. His posture stiffened, his gaze dropped, and he no longer dared to brush against Seongwu’s hand as they walked beside each other like he had at the beginning of their date. The invisible wall they’d spent the last seven years simultaneously building and chipping at slammed down between them.
Intent on escaping the crowd’s eyes, they walked around aimlessly for a while. Eventually, they spotted a small Italian restaurant. It had a nice ambiance and, most importantly, it was nearly empty.
They quickly slipped inside and claimed a table, ordering a shared plate of pasta, salad, and steak. Minhyun insisted they shared, and, while Seongwu did raise an eyebrow at the request, he complied wordlessly.
When the food arrived, they fell into silence. Not the comfortable one they rarely shared when they were together, but an unsettling, uncomfortable one.
Seongwu watched as Minhyun pushed a cherry tomato around his salad plate, his eyes flickering toward the steaming bowl of pasta before deliberately looking away.
“Eat”, Seongwu said, gesturing with his fork.
“I am eating”, Minhyun replied quietly, taking a tiny, calculated bite of the greens.
“You’re doing math. I can see you calculating the macros in your head.” Seongwu scooped a generous portion of pasta onto Minhyun’s plate. “It’s saturday. Stop thinking about calories.”
Minhyun sighed, the sound heavy and tired. He dropped his fork. “I have the Tokyo fanmeeting soon, Seongwu. And the Study Group shoot after that. I can’t just eat whatever I want right now. I’ve been looking too… soft, lately.”
Seongwu paused mid-chew. He swallowed hard, staring blankly across the table. Minhyun was bare-faced, hair falling softly across his forehead, and infuriatingly stunning even without the usual heavy styling.
“Soft”, Seongwu repeated flatly.
“My jawline isn’t as sharp as it used to be”, Minhyun muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “My manager mentioned it last week. It’s fine, I just need to be careful.”
“Minhyun, look at me.”
Minhyun hesitated, then slowly lifted his gaze.
“You’re gorgeous”, Seongwu said simply before shoving another forkful of pasta down his throat. He didn’t soften his voice, didn’t dress it up as a joke or casual flattery. For him, it was just a fact. “You are completely, undeniably gorgeous. You’ve always been.”
The familiar flush Seongwu still loved to be the cause of crept rapidly up Minhyun’s neck, blooming high on his cheeks and ears. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and stared at Seongwu as if trying to decipher a puzzle he had already solved a thousand times.
“You still do that”, Minhyun whispered, his voice so soft Seongwu barely heard it.
“Do what?”
“Look at me like that. Say things like that.” Minhyun swallowed, his short fingers drumming nervously against the wood of the table. He leaned forward slightly, and for a moment Seongwu thought he saw his gaze flicker down to his lips. “Are you seeing someone, Seongwu?”
The question hit Seongwu like a physical blow. He set his fork down, the clatter loud in the quiet booth.
“You know I’m not”, Seongwu answered, his voice dropping low. “I haven’t been. Not since…”
Not since January 2019. Not since you decided we couldn’t do this anymore.
Minhyun’s breath hitched. His hand twitched against the table, as if he wanted to reach out. “Seongwu, I–”
“Excuse me?”
They snapped their heads up at the interruption, Minhyun’s hand frozen in place. The kitchen doors had swung open, and a man in a white chef’s coat was standing awkwardly at the edge of their table, holding a small ceramic plate.
Their little bubble had shattered instantly. Minhyun’s posture straightened, the vulnerability wiped clean from his face to be replaced by his polished, untouchable idol mask. Seongwu’s own public persona fell into place steadily as he smiled politely at the chef.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt”, the chef stammered, his eyes wide as he looked between them. “I’m the head chef. I just… I’m a huge fan of you both. I couldn’t believe it when the waiter told me who was at table four. I wanted to bring this out myself. On the house.”
He set the plate down. A perfectly dusted square of tiramisu.
“Thank you”, Minhyun said smoothly, offering a flawless, practiced smile. “That’s incredibly kind of you. The food was wonderful.”
“Thank you”, Seongwu echoed, his own smile feeling tight and plastic. “We appreciate it.”
The chef bowed happily and retreated to the kitchen.
The silence that fell over the table this time was worse than before. It was suffocating. It was a reminder that they would never be able to have these moments outside the safety of their homes. To the world, they would always be public property. And Seongwu knew it was part of why Minhyun had ended things all those years ago.
Minhyun looked at the dessert, his jaw tight, the ghost of their interrupted conversation haunting the space between them. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but in that restaurant.
Seongwu wasn’t going to let the night end on this bitter note.
He reached across the table, picked up a clean spoon, and carved off a piece of the tiramisu.
He held the spoon out.
Minhyun blinked, looking from the spoon to Seongwu’s face. “Seongwu, I just said I shouldn’t–”
“Eat it”, Seongwu commanded gently, the sadness in his eyes betraying his firm tone. “Just one bite. Let me spoil you for five seconds before we have to go back to the real world.”
Minhyun stared at him for a long, quiet moment. Then, he slowly leaned forward and took the bite from Seongwu’s spoon.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.⋆.˚ ☽⭒.⋆
The drive back to Seongwu’s apartment was heavy with the things they hadn’t been able to say inside the restaurant. When Minhyun finally pulled up to the curb, he let the engine idle in the dark, his hands resting on the steering wheel as he slowly turned towards Seongwu, his face unreadable.
Seongwu unbuckled his seatbelt, but he didn’t immediately reach for the door handle. Instead, he looked back at Minhyun, at the soft shadows cast over his sharp features by the streetlights, at the curve of his lips he still could remember the taste of–
They leaned in at the same time, the air in the car turning heavy.
They didn’t kiss. Not yet. They touched foreheads, allowing their breaths to mingle as neither had the courage to take the plunge.
Seongwu decided it wasn’t enough.
“Come upstairs”, he whispered an inch away from Minhyun’s lips, feeling his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
Minhyun’s breath hitched a second time that night, and for a moment Seongwu thought he would say yes, that he would once again let Seongwu push their boundaries and tear down the wall—
But the spell was broken just as quickly as it was formed. Minhyun hesitated, a sudden flicker of panic crossing his eyes, and he backed out for the very first time. It went against everything they had established over the last few years; Minhyun never pulled away when Seongwu initiated.
“I should get home”, Minhyun said quietly, refusing to meet Seongwu’s eyes.
Seongwu swallowed the familiar lump forming in his throat, nodding slowly and pulling away. He knew Minhyun would pull away if things between them got too real for him to handle outside of their established routine, and yet he took the risk. “Drive safe.”, he whispered, holding back what he really wanted to say.
I love you. I miss you every day. I would burn the world to have you back.
Back home, Seongwu sat for a long time on his couch, mulling over the day. He had made it a point to ignore the ache in his chest whenever he and Minhyun met; it was such a fixture in his life that it had become a familiar, welcome thing. It meant he was still seeing Minhyun in a way. It also meant that nothing changed for him in the past seven years. He hadn’t moved on, and, despite suspecting Minhyun hadn’t, either, the possibility that he could move on at any moment made it all the worse.
His phone buzzed in his pocket halfway through his self-imposed pity party, and he quickly grabbed it in hopes it was Minhyun. He was long past feeling pathetic for hoping it was him, and the smile on his face when he saw the name Hwang Minhyun flashing on his screen probably made things even more pathetic.
It was a picture.
Of Minhyun. In the gym. Wearing a tank top and shorts.
He was looking at the mirror, hair slightly damp with sweat, the angle doing entirely too much justice to his broad shoulders.
Seongwu stared at the glowing screen, letting out a heavy sigh in the empty room. He had to physically hold himself back from replying to what was clearly Minhyun baiting him. He wasn’t going to let Minhyun run away in the car just to tease him from a safe distance an hour later.
Instead of taking the bait, Seongwu opted to pivot the conversation entirely.
Ong Seongwu:
Are you seriously at the gym right now? You just ate a steak.
Hwang Minhyun:
I have the fanmeetings soon. I have to burn it off.
Send me the videos you took today. I want to post them.
Seongwu rolled his eyes, but pulled up his camera roll anyway.
Ong Seongwu:
[Video attachment]
[Video attachment]
[Photo attachment x4]
There. My fee is another coffee.
Hwang Minhyun:
Oh thank you!
I need to edit these and upload to my stories.
Ong Seongwu:
Did you take any pictures of me?
Hwang Minhyun:
…………….
Ong Seongwu:
You are so selfish.
Hwang Minhyun:
Sorry, I was selfish…
[Sticker]
Ong Seongwu:
Not a single one?
I let you drag me off my couch, make me walk through a crowd of a thousand people, use me as your personal videographer, and this is what I get? No pictures of me?
The typing bubble appeared and disappeared twice before Minhyun’s reply finally came through.
Hwang Minhyun:
Sorry ㅎㅎ
I was too busy looking at you to remember to use the camera.
Seongwu stared at the message, his heart doing a stupid, violent flip against his ribs. He didn’t know how to respond to that without falling into Minhyun’s little push and pull game, so he simply locked his phone and tossed it onto the other end of the couch.
For the next days, however, Seongwu couldn’t help but notice Minhyun would not stop talking about their little date, be it on his Weverse DMs with his fans, in the Wanna One group chat, despite the endless teasing from the maknae line who, Seongwu was well-aware, had not-so-secretly wanted them to get back together ever since the day they broke up, or in his live before travelling to Japan, where he spent nearly three minutes sharing details of their outing to their fans.
And, unknowingly, to a very amused Seongwu, watching from his iPad as he went into inane details such as the crowded ramen shop and how the crowd kept on recognizing them. He even proudly mentioned the chef coming to their table, saying he was a fan, and giving them a free tiramisu.
Seongwu watched the screen, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. He picked up his phone.
Ong Seongwu:
You literally just gave thousands of people a step-by-step itinerary of our day.
For someone who got so panicked in my driveway, you sure love talking about our date.
On the screen, Minhyun briefly blinked at his phone. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he blinked it away. An hour later, long after the live was over and Seongwu was getting ready to sleep, Minhyun texted him back.
Hwang Minhyun:
They asked. I’m just answering.
Ong Seongwu:
Looks more like you’re trying to mark your territory digitally since you forgot to take pictures.
Making sure everyone knows you took me out.
Seongwu held his breath. He knew he was pushing it. The three dots appeared, vanished, and appeared again. Seongwu could picture him laying in bed, biting his lip, trying to figure out how to deflect.
But Minhyun didn’t deflect.
Hwang Minhyun:
Maybe I am.
I have to go to sleep now. Long week ahead.
Don’t go to Seocheon with anyone else while I’m gone.
Ong Seongwu:
Sleep well.
Don’t go to any Italian restaurants without me.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.⋆.˚ ☽⭒.⋆
