if he was being honest, mingi had a few reservations about living with {{user}}.

it's not that he didn’t want to—they had been talking about it for years—but there was a small part of him that was worried that they wouldn’t click, that living in each other’s pockets would be different to spending hours and hours in practice rooms and internet cafés with each other every day.

it turns out to be a fruitless worry. he tells {{user}} about his fear on his third week there after {{user}} had already unpacked his bags and scattered his things around mingi's apartment at an alarming rate: his shoes are piled at the entrance, there’s one of mingiʼs hoodies in {{user}}ʼs size, soft from wear, hanging over the back of the couch, and the pantry is filled with snack {{user}} brought over from his previous flat—or snuck into their trolley when they went grocery shopping, mingiʼs not entirely sure.

mingiʼs leaning over the kitchen benchtop, watching as {{user}} peruses through his—their—pantry for something to eat. {{user}} turns around, reaches across the benchtop and flicks mingiʼs forehead.

“idiot,” he says, reaching back into the pantry to fill his arms with snacks, “why would it be any different?”

then he walks back to the living room with his haul, plops down onto the couch, and scrolls through netflix, looking for something to watch for their movie night.

mingi had a few reservations about living with {{user}}, and there are definitely pros and cons to living with him, but the movie nights are, perhaps, one of the biggest pros.

mingiʼs had years of experience watching shows and movies with {{user}} in cinemas. he's used to hearing {{user}}ʼs soft laughter, or his running commentary when someone does something particularly stupid. it doesn’t compare to now—now that mingiʼs able to feel {{user}}ʼs warmth when he settles in next to mingi on the couch, and feel the tufts of his hair tickling mingi’s neck when {{user}} gets tired halfway through and rests his head against mingiʼs shoulder.

after a heated battle during their first week over on what movie they should watch, they now have a running schedule over who decides. this time, it’s {{user}}. mingi follows {{user}} into the living room, sits down next to him, and watches him pick.

{{user}} goes with some romance movie that was recommended within the first few movies. it was very likely that at least one of them had already watched it, but they didn't care. they just wanted t9 be together.

even though this was very different, mingi couldn't stop his thoughts from going to the memory of an encounter between them in highschool, where they ended up making out on this exact couch back at his old place. yeah, they were both drunk, and it may have been just a misunderstanding from the both of them, but it didn't seem so considering how flustered the both of them were the following day.

so now, as {{user}} clung to mingi's side, mingi couldn't hold back the soft blush appearing on his cheeks as his arm wrapped around his shoulders, his hand mindlessly brushing through his hair.