Ship/Member: Mingyu/Jeonghan
Major Tags: toxic relationships
Additional Tags: all mingyu does is suffer
Permission to remix: Yes

***

Jeonghan smells like cigarette smoke and expensive cologne when he leans into Mingyu’s space at the rooftop party, his breath warm against Mingyu’s ear as he murmurs, “You could’ve dressed up a little.”

Mingyu glances down at himself, at the shirt he’d spent too long ironing, the blazer he’d debated over for twenty minutes in front of the mirror. He’d thought he looked good, but now, under Jeonghan’s disapproving gaze, his confidence crumbles. He feels like he’s a child playing dress-up in clothes that don’t quite fit.

When he forces himself to look up, Jeonghan is smiling that sharp, satisfied smile, the one that always makes him feel like he’s missed a punchline.

Mingyu doesn’t understand why he does it. Why he keeps coming back to this. He’s smart enough to know better, old enough to know that someone who gets off on seeing him squirm is never going to make him truly happy. But logic has never had much sway where Jeonghan is concerned, and so here he is again, with a glass of watered-down whiskey in his hand, orbiting him like a moth to flame.

“You’re boring tonight,” Jeonghan drawls, plucking the drink from Mingyu’s hand and taking a sip. He grimaces as if it's the worst thing he’s ever tasted. “Why did I even invite you?”

“You didn’t,” Mingyu replies, and it’s true. He came because Jeonghan mentioned it offhandedly last weekend. ‘If you really care, you’ll show up,’ he’d said, his nails scratching down Mingyu’s bare chest as they lay tangled in his bed sheets. It was more of a challenge than an invitation.

Jeonghan grins now, smug, like Mingyu’s just proven his point. “Then why are you here?”

Mingyu’s eyes flick toward the concrete edge of the rooftop, at the dizzying drop below. He tries to summon some dignity even as he stomach swoops. This is Jeonghan’s game, and he always wins, but Mingyu just can’t seem to stop playing.

“Maybe I wanted to see you.”

Jeonghan hums, feigning consideration. “Or maybe you were just hoping I’d make it worth your while.” He presses the glass back into Mingyu’s hand, but his fingers linger, sliding up to curl around Mingyu’s wrist. His grip is cold, but surprisingly gentle, and Mingyu feels the pull of it in his middle, a mix of shame and want.

There are other people here. Mingyu can feel their gazes shift towards them, but none linger. Jeonghan is careful that way—pressing close enough to set Mingyu’s nerves ablaze, but not enough to draw any real attention.

“Jeonghan…” he starts, but Jeonghan cuts him off.

“You’re going to say something boring, aren’t you,” Jeonghan whispers, lifting onto his toes and leaning in until his breath ghosts over Mingyu’s lips. His free hand flattens against Mingyu’s chest, right over his heart, and Mingyu knows Jeonghan can feel how fast it’s beating. “Don’t. It’ll ruin the mood.”

Mingyu’s breath catches when Jeonghan’s hand slides lower, featherlight against his abdomen, just above his belt. It’s deliberate, a tease so faint it borders on cruel, and then it’s gone. Jeonghan pulls back, leaving Mingyu aching in its absence.

For a moment, Jeonghan lingers, his fingers hovering in the space between them. Something flickers across his face, something Mingyu can’t quite read, something that feels like it might be significant, but just as quickly as it came, it vanishes. He turns away, seamlessly slipping into another conversation, and Mingyu is left standing alone.

Mingyu knows he should go, should’ve never come in the first place, but his feet stay rooted to the spot, his heart twisting with humiliation and longing, craving Jeonghan’s attention despite the sting of it.

It’s not like Jeonghan toying with him is new. Two weeks ago, he’d left Mingyu waiting for hours outside a cafe, only to show up with someone else and act like Mingyu was intruding. Last month, during a fight, Jeonghan had kicked him out of the car with a sneering, 'you’re lucky I even bother with you', leaving Mingyu to walk home in the rain. And yet, when Jeonghan called at 3 am, Mingyu had answered—still soaked, still shivering, but desperate to hear his voice.

An hour later, when most of the partygoers have trickled away, Jeonghan finds him again. He looks more relaxed now. Softer around the edges. But Mingyu knows better than to let his guard down.

“You’re still here?” Jeonghan asks, eyes wide. There’s a strange hesitance in his voice that makes Mingyu’s chest ache.

“You’d be disappointed if I wasn’t,” Mingyu replies, and Jeonghan’s laugh is quiet, approving.

Without warning, Jeonghan grabs his hand and tugs him toward the edge of the rooftop. Mingyu stumbles, his drink sloshing over the rim of his glass, and Jeonghan laughs louder.

“Hannie, wait—” Mingyu’s voice catches as they stop at the railing, the vast expanse of the city sprawling below them like a sea of lights. His knees lock, the height making his stomach lurch, but Jeonghan’s grip tightens.

“Relax,” Jeonghan murmurs, leaning into Mingyu’s side. His head tilts to rest against Mingyu’s shoulder, his thumb tracing slow circles over Mingyu’s knuckles. “If you tell anyone about this,” he says, his tone playful but dangerous, “I’ll be pissed.”

Mingyu looks at their joined hands, at Jeonghan’s profile glowing in the moonlight. “I won’t,” he promises.

Jeonghan’s smile widens, victorious. “Good.” His fingers linger a moment longer before he lets go, turning on his heel. “Now come on. You’re driving me home.”

Of course, Mingyu follows. He always does.