Chapter Text
Miraculously, he eventually falls asleep later that night, his exhaustion smothering the thoughts that run loops in his head. He wakes up feeling numb, like you could carve him open and find nothing but static.
He steps out of the house a few minutes later than he usually does. Minghao, poised to yell at him for being late, sees the look on his face and immediately softens. “Jesus, Mingyu,” he says, pulling him into a hug. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Mingyu mumbles into his shoulder, and then quickly backtracks. “I yelled at Wonwoo yesterday and I think he might be angry at me.” Also, I think the life I’ve been living for the past five years is wearing me down, and soon there isn’t going to be any of me left . But he doesn’t say that, of course, because he doesn’t think he can.
“Jesus,” Minghao repeats, and then pulls away to hold him at arm’s length, searching his face. He frowns. “What did he do?”
Mingyu shakes his head and shrugs Minghao’s hands off his shoulders, setting off towards the meet-up point. He can’t be late for school, and maybe more importantly, he can’t look Minghao in the eye for much longer without crumbling. “Nothing,” he repeats. “I got mad at him for something stupid and we argued. It was my fault.”
Minghao sighs and takes his hand. His palm is warm despite the cold, and his grip is firm. “Mingyu, I haven’t seen you get seriously mad at someone in years . He must have done something .”
“It’s fine.” After all, it’s not Wonwoo’s fault that Mingyu got jealous of him for - what? Being happy? He is so stupid, and so selfish, and all he does is let people down. “Seriously, Minghao. It’s okay.”
“Okay.” Minghao stops. Mingyu keeps his eyes on the sidewalk underneath his feet. “I think Seokmin wants to talk to you. Are you going to be okay?”
Mingyu looks up and offers Minghao a smile. It’s not a real one, and he knows Minghao can tell, but he does it anyway, if only to maintain the pretense. “With Seokmin?” he says. “Of course. He’s, like, the least threatening person alive.”
Minghao pats him on the shoulder and lets go of his hand. Without Minghao to guide him, he’s forced to look up - and sure enough, Seokmin is there, waving at him. He looks more subdued than usual. Mingyu wonders if it has anything to do with Wonwoo.
Wonwoo, who’s standing next to him, his back turned. Mingyu stares at the slope of his shoulders and feels the guilt eat at him.
“Hey, Mingyu.” Mingyu tears his eyes away from Wonwoo to look at Seokmin, who has replaced Minghao at his side. His smile is warm and disarming. “You didn’t get much sleep last night, huh?”
Mingyu nods and lets Seokmin loop their arms together. Minghao and Wonwoo are walking ahead of them; just looking at the two of them, wondering what they’re talking about, wondering if they’re talking about him, is a little too much. He looks back down at the sidewalk. “Is, um.” He clears his throat. “Is Wonwoo okay?”
“He’s fine. He feels awful about what happened, though.” That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Wonwoo feel bad about something that only happened because Mingyu messed up, because Mingyu is messed up?
He can’t keep letting these people down. “I’ll apologize,” he says. “I’ll- I’ll figure it out. You don’t have to worry.”
Seokmin pauses. Then, “hey, if you want, we could skip out on school today and get coffee or something. It’ll be cute, we can rub it in Minghao’s face and everything.”
Mingyu shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says. He thinks he’s apologizing for a lot of things - apologizing because Seokmin has to see him like this, apologizing because he got this way in the first place. “I can’t. Thank you, though.”
“Don’t mention it.” Seokmin nudges him with an elbow. “But I will consider it your fault if I fall asleep in the middle of Music History.”
Mingyu offers a smile. It feels just as wrong as the one he gave Minghao, but Seokmin is more forgiving about it, offering a smile back. They spend the rest of the trip to school in silence.
--
“Dude,” Bambam says, squinting at him in concern, “are you okay? You look like shit.”
The fluorescent lights in the classroom are hurting his eyes, and the sight of his Econ notes is genuinely making him sick. “Yeah,” he says, focusing on a spot just over Bambam’s ear. “And don’t lie, I never look like shit.”
Bambam laughs. “Damn, I can’t even argue with that,” he says. “Wanna watch One Punch Man?”
“Sorry. I have to pay attention.” His smile is starting to wear thin, as thin as his clothes and his hair and the personality he’s borrowing so people won’t talk. Did you see Mingyu today? What’s wrong with him? “Maybe later.”
“Ugh, suit yourself, lameass.” Bambam tilts his laptop so that Mingyu can see, anyways, because he always does. Mingyu turns to face straight ahead, not really seeing anything.
--
In Business, Chan drops a box of Pocky onto his desk. “Seungkwan told me to give you this,” he says, shrugging, when Mingyu looks up at him questioningly. “Don’t ask why, he didn’t say.”
Mingyu picks up the box and inspects it. It’s green tea flavor, his favorite. "Tell him I said thanks. Want some?”
Chan perks up. “Really? Thanks, dude!” He attacks the box with vigor, peeling open the tab at the top and then ripping open the bag inside. He pauses with a stick already in his hand and looks up at Mingyu. “Don’t tell Seungkwan.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Mingyu says.
Class starts, then. Chan slides the box of Pocky back onto Mingyu’s desk, where it sits untouched, all the way to the end of class.
--
“Seokmin,” Mingyu asks, “do you know where Wonwoo usually spends lunch break?”
“Huh?” Seokmin looks up from his spot on the floor, his lunch bag propped open on his knees. “Oh, yeah. He’s usually in the stairwell next to the library with Junhui. Are you gonna go work things out?”
Mingyu nods and fishes the box of Pocky out of his pocket. “Do you want the rest?”
Seokmin looks up. “Really? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I already ate some.” He gives Seokmin the box and shoves his hand back into his pocket. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Hold on,” Minghao says, poking his head out of their shared locker. Mingyu can see him run through all the questions he wants to ask, vetoing them one by one before settling on, “you’re skipping business club?”
Mingyu completely forgot about business club. He doesn’t think he can step foot in that classroom without drowning, without the thin, shaky walls he’s built around himself falling away and bringing him down with them. “Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. Can you tell Chan for me?”
“Yeah.” Minghao looks worried, but he mercifully doesn’t voice it, stepping up to give Mingyu a quick hug. “Come back as quickly as you can, okay?” he murmurs against Mingyu’s shoulder.
Mingyu presses his hand flat against the space between Minghao’s shoulder blades, feels his back rise and fall as he breathes. Don’t let go of me , he thinks, and pulls away. “Okay. See you.”
Seokmin gives him a wave as he leaves, a half-eaten Pocky stick hanging out of his mouth. Mingyu waves back and turns away.
--
He finds Wonwoo and Junhui in the stairwell, in a little alcove tucked underneath the staircase. Junhui sees him walk through the entrance and immediately climbs to his feet. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he announces. “I’m gonna be there for a while. Call me if you need me.”
He packs up his lunch and leaves, patting Mingyu’s head as he brushes past him. Left alone, Wonwoo draws his knees up to his chest and stares at Mingyu, the look on his face unreadable. Mingyu hates it - he wishes Wonwoo were easier to figure out, sometimes. He can handle anger, hatred, disgust, but he has no idea how to start with this.
Luckily, Wonwoo starts for him. “You look tired,” he says softly.
It stuns Mingyu, and for a second, he almost responds honestly. He catches himself before he does and says, “I’m fine. This is just the,” he gestures at his own face, “the aesthetic I’m going for today.”
“Okay.” Wonwoo climbs to his feet, pocketing his phone. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Why isn’t Wonwoo yelling at him? Why isn’t he demanding answers? What’s wrong with you , he asked. Doesn’t he want to know?
“Aren’t your things going to get stolen?” Mingyu asks.
“It’s not like there’s anything valuable to steal.” Wonwoo pulls his phone out, unlocks it, and taps at the screen a few times before turning it off and putting it back into his pocket. “And Junhui should be back in a few minutes. Let’s go.”
“Okay,” Mingyu says. Standing in Wonwoo’s presence is making it a little hard to breathe. Sunlight spills in from the windows on the second floor, tumbling down the steps and pooling on the floor beneath his feet. Wonwoo follows the path of the sunlight up the stairs, and Mingyu follows.
--
Neither of them speak for a few minutes. Mingyu waits until the silence starts pressing in on him before starting, “I’m sorry. For yelling at you yesterday. I didn’t,” he takes a deep breath, “I didn’t mean what I said.”
Very simply, Wonwoo says, “I think you did mean it.”
Mingyu looks at him. His expression is as ambiguous as ever, eyes fixed straight ahead, at the windows at the end of the hallway. Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t…”
“I don’t blame you,” Wonwoo says, when Mingyu’s voice trails off pathetically. “I was being inconsiderate. I’m sorry.”
Mingyu frowns at the floor, an ugly scuffed beige. Wonwoo's apology feels wrong, ringing off-key in the heavy air. “Don’t-” he catches himself and frowns harder. The words aren’t coming out right - they feel too vulnerable, too real. “Don’t be. It wasn’t - this doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Wonwoo doesn't say anything for a moment. Mingyu glances at him - he’s still looking straight ahead, but he’s frowning, eyes bright under the sunlight stretching in from the end of the hallway. Mingyu watches as he takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and starts: “Mingyu, I didn’t-”
“Mingyu!”
Wonwoo cuts himself off. Mingyu turns towards the voice - it’s a girl from Data, leaning around the doorframe of a classroom nearby. “Hey,” he greets, stretching his mouth into an approximation of a smile. He should probably know her name, they’ve been in the same class for two weeks now, but it doesn’t come to mind. “How’s it going?” he adds.
She takes his reply as an invitation to approach him, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie. “You’re just the person I was looking for,” she says, looking up at him desperately. “I’m stuck on this homework question, and my friends are all useless, can you please help me?” She glances to the side, noticing Wonwoo's presence, and widens her eyes. “Uh, unless you’re busy?”
Mingyu doesn't look at Wonwoo. A part of him thinks that he should stay, see this through to the end, but a bigger part of him knows that he has never refused to help someone with homework in his entire high school career, and that this girl knows it, and that if he says no people will start asking questions. “I have time,” he says instead, and forces his smile wider. “What’s the question?”
“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” the girl says in a rush, dragging him by the sleeve into the classroom she emerged from. Mingyu lets himself get dragged along. He still doesn’t look at Wonwoo.
The classroom is otherwise empty save for the girl and a few of her friends, all of whom know Mingyu by name, so he lets himself get tossed around for greetings and hugs before settling down to help. It’s tiring, maintaining the facade - joking around, giving high fives, smiling just wide enough to show his canines. The sound of his own laughter grates against his bones, like nails on a chalkboard.
Eventually, he stumbles out of the classroom to loud farewells, laughing and waving goodbye. He’s so tired. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this tired before, to the point where everything feels draining. Wonwoo is still there, checking his phone; he looks up as Mingyu approaches, his expression as shuttered as ever.
“You’re good at that,” he says, before Mingyu can get a word out.
Mingyu’s heart drops. “What?”
“Pretending to be someone else.” Wonwoo’s looking him in the eye, but he feels so far away, and everything has somehow gone so wrong. “Isn’t it tiring?”
It’s getting hard to breathe again. There are too many people around, their voices cluttering up the empty spaces in Mingyu’s head. If Wonwoo wasn’t angry at him before, he definitely is now, and it really, truly is all his fault this time. What’s wrong with you? “I’m sorry,” he says, because it’s the only thing he can say that he actually means.
“Stop apologizing.” Wonwoo’s voice is sharp. It digs into Mingyu’s arteries and bleeds him dry. What’s wrong with you?
“I don’t-” What can he possibly say that won’t mess things up even more? Wonwoo was here, Wonwoo wasn’t angry at him, they were almost okay again, and then he had to go and mess it up and it’s all his fault, it’s all his fault-
What’s wrong with you?
“I don’t,” he starts, but he can barely hear himself speak. “I can’t-”
He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. He turns and leaves, leaves Wonwoo and that hallway and the school altogether, walking out into the bracing cold. The field is empty in this weather. He ducks behind the bleachers, the same ones Wonwoo waited for him on all those months ago, and sinks to the ground and cries.
--
“What the fuck, Mingyu?” Minghao’s the angriest Mingyu’s seen him in awhile, leaving their locker open and rushing over. He grabs Mingyu’s hands and curses. “Seokmin, pass me my thermos,” he says over his shoulder, and then, “what the fuck, how long have you been outside for? What happened ? I swear, if Wonwoo-”
“He didn’t do anything,” Mingyu says, hoping his voice doesn’t waver, because Minghao looks murderous. “Seriously, Minghao. I just - I just needed to clear my head.”
Minghao opens his mouth to say something and then cuts himself off, his eyes softening. Seokmin comes up, then, shoving Minghao’s thermos into Mingyu’s hands. It’s warm; slowly, feeling starts bleeding back into his body. “You can tell us if he did something,” Seokmin says, putting a hand on the small of his back. Under Minghao’s watchful eye, Mingyu takes a sip of the tea in the thermos. He hopes neither of them can see his hands shake. “I’ll beat him up for you. Or like, put superglue in his shampoo or something.”
“It’s okay,” Mingyu says. He returns the thermos to Minghao and brushes past him to their locker, which is still open. “We should head to class, we’re going to be late.”
“You haven’t eaten yet,” Minghao points out. Mingyu pauses, in the middle of shoving his textbook into his bag. The pastel pink of the keychain on the zipper glares at him.
He shrugs his bag onto his shoulders and turns to face his friends. Minghao has his arms crossed over his chest, like he’s about to physically block Mingyu from leaving. Seokmin is hovering a little closer, frowning in concern. Something pangs dully in Mingyu’s chest, buried too deep to be felt properly. He doesn’t know how to explain that he hasn’t felt like eating all day. “I’ll eat in Data,” he says. “That class is boring anyways.”
Minghao and Seokmin exchange a look. Mingyu is so tired. He just wants to get to class and then go home, where he can fall into the shadows collecting in the corners of his house and shut everything else out.
The warning bell rings. Mingyu moves to leave, but Minghao steps in his way, arms still crossed. “I know you were lying about eating,” he says, soft. Mingyu focuses on a spot just past his shoulder. “Just, eat a little? Please?”
He sounds like he’s afraid Mingyu’s going to break any second. Mingyu wishes he could tell him that there’s nothing to worry about; he cried all his feelings out a few minutes ago, and now he barely even feels like a real person. “I’ll try,” he says, because that’s the most he can offer.
He doesn’t look at his friends when he leaves. He can’t bear to.
--
In Data Management, Soonyoung and Junhui talk about the university applications deadline, which is at midnight. “I don’t know how Wonwoo submitted his yesterday ,” Soonyoung complains, resting his chin on his desk and stretching his arms out in front of him. “Who does he think he is? Ugh.”
Mingyu keeps his eyes on his notebook, but he doesn’t miss the way Junhui glances at him at the mention of Wonwoo’s name. In the end, he eats the pear slices he packed for himself, and gives the rest of his lunch to the other two.
--
Half a week passes in one vague grey blur. Mingyu still goes to the gym on Tuesday, still pays attention in class, still does all his homework. He can’t lose his future, he rations - even if it will make him miserable, this is all he has. This is all he will have to show for himself, at the end of it all.
The exhaustion doesn’t go away. Each time, it takes a little more of him to fake the smiles, the laughter, the over-confident quips. Still, he pretends and pretends and pretends and hopes he doesn’t get caught.
Wonwoo doesn’t so much as look at him, after that day in the hallway. Mingyu can’t blame him. He goes straight home after the gym on Tuesday, pressing the side of his head against the cold glass of the bus window until it hurts.