Madness for Two 🎬 yungi [▶]

28

FLASHBACK

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London was wet tonight.

Not unusual. But Yunho had begun to suspect that peace was no longer something he could feel—especially when watching how the amber glow of the streetlamps fractured across the glass, split by the quiet war-drum of the rain.

Inside the taxi, Mingi sat on the far end, deliberately distant.

They had just had dinner.

All day, they had spoken at length.

Paris. Mingi had described it vividly, with the fluency of a man who knew how to trap beauty inside words. He had taught Yunho a few French phrases. Laughed when Yunho groaned at the suggestion of repeating the sentence, "Song Mingi est l'homme le plus beau du monde."

In return, Yunho had explained how to make cyanide out of salt. A leftover trick from a university chemistry class. Mingi halfway through a bite of steak, had paused, fork still raised. "Did you salt my food?" he asked—not joking. Yunho had only rolled his eyes.

They had talked about the rubber tree in front of Yunho's apartment. About the drag queen nights in Canal Street, Manchester. Tintin. V for Vendetta. Mingi had recited the infamous V monologue with exaggerated drama while Yunho chewed through a sandwich. Yunho had confessed his favorite scene was the final kiss between V and Evey.

Before he could explain why—Mingi kissed him.

And just as the flashbulbs snapped, blistering their skin with artificial lightning, Mingi's hand caressed Yunho's cheek, gentle, as though healing a wound the cameras couldn't see.

They ate the rest of their lunch in silence.

Neither spoke of the kiss.

Nor the others before it.

Nor the hand-holding or the whispers Mingi fed into Yunho's ear when the cameras were watching. They didn’t speak about what this was. But Yunho could feel it—Mingi felt it too. He knew. He just chose not to name it.

The taxi stopped. Their eyes met.

The driver interrupted something that might have happened. Mingi swore inwardly. He had been seconds away from kissing him again. Instead, he overpaid the driver, followed Yunho out. Paparazzi lingered like ghosts at the building entrance. Mingi gripped Yunho’s hand, smiled for the cameras, ushered him inside the lobby.

He didn’t speak. Just kissed him again.

And Yunho didn’t pull away.

He never did.

People stared. Cameras clicked. Whispers floated. But Yunho’s voice remained low, weary.

"Stop being so gentle to me, Song."

He stepped back, forcing a smile. He was ready to end the night with a neat goodbye. Cinderella at the final chime.

But Mingi beat him to it.

"I'm no longer pretending."

Yunho frowned. Read the fear behind those eyes. Waited.

"What do you mean?"

Mingi hesitated. "I don't want this to end."

Yunho breath shallow, "What exactly is it you don’t want to end?"

Mingi’s voice came firm now. No doubt. "Us."

There it was.

The confession.

Yunho’s throat burned.

He had no words. Only an impulse. "Do you want to stay the night?"

Mingi didn’t reply. Just looked at him—and Yunho understood.