Ship/Member: seokmin/mingyu Major Tags: inception au, past non-consensual actions Additional Tags: i’ve seen inception one time like ten years ago lmao please be gentle ;;; Permission to remix: yes
Mingyu isn’t the same after.
That’s what the rumours say, anyway. Seokmin wouldn’t know for sure.
He was supposed to keep his distance — there’s nothing more dangerous than getting recognized by a mark — and he did, didn’t he? They pulled off the job. The team split up. It’s been six months, and the most he’s gotten is a few bland messages from Chan, reassuring Seokmin that he’s been working hard. As though that’s the most important thing. Seokmin guesses for Chan, it is. It isn’t for Seokmin, though. Seokmin loved the dreaming itself, and the people he met in their dreams.
Seokmin had loved Kim Mingyu, sort of, but only the version of him he met in a dream. Scared and shivering and confused.
At Seokmin’s mercy.
Seokmin wonders if Mingyu’s different in person, now. He must be. Seokmin catches himself thinking about it more than he should, maybe. It’s just that he wants to know. And if he just happened to end up living in the same corner of the city as Mingyu six months later, well. It’s just coincidence, that’s all.
Seokmin lives on the straight and narrow now. Seungcheol told Seokmin he'd never be able to go back to a normal life, but he'd underestimated how badly Seokmin wanted to please his mom. He works as an intern at an architecture firm exactly two blocks from Kim Mingyu’s father’s company headquarters, but that doesn’t mean much. It’s a crowded city. The chances of meeting Kim Mingyu are —
Well.
More than zero, apparently, because Seokmin’s at one of the coffee shops that line the road at street level, waiting for his team manager’s order, when he sees him.
He’s tall, which Seokmin knew already. He’s handsome, which Seokmin also knew. The expression on his face is new, though, and so are his jagged, bitten nails when he reaches for his cup.
Seokmin is staring.
Seokmin is staring and Mingyu looks up before he can stop, head tilting at the sight of Seokmin’s face, recognition dawning in his expression.
Seokmin watches as Mingyu comes closer, hesitance in his posture.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Do I know you?”
Seokmin’s breath catches. He forces out a laugh, bright and easygoing.
“Maybe?” he asks, still smiling, as though this is all just a funny coincidence. As though it means nothing at all.
“Did we go to school together?” Mingyu presses, and Seokmin’s palms start to sweat.
“Where did you go?” The words come out very steady — he’s proud of himself.
“Seoul National,” Mingyu says slowly, and Seokmin nods.
“Ah,” he says, voice coming out just a little too loud. “That must be it, then!”
“What did you study?” Mingyu presses. He’s frowning, just the slightest bit, a tiny crease between his eyebrows as he tries to figure it out. Like he knows there’s something he’s missing.
There is, of course. Seokmin can only pray he doesn’t figure it out.
“Architecture,” he answers anyway, because he’s always been a horrible fucking liar. “You?”
The line between Mingyu’s eyebrows deepens.
“I can’t remember,” he admits.
Of course he doesn’t remember — Seokmin took it from him. Mingyu had been first in their class, all four years, and Seokmin couldn’t bear it. When he’d realized who their mark was the opportunity had been perfect.
And it isn’t it better, like this? Mingyu was so pressured by his father, so burdened, or at least that’s what Seungcheol had said. Now he doesn’t feel it at all. Mingyu works for one of his father’s non-profits now, Seokmin knows. The company is going to go to his sister.
When he did it Seokmin told himself it would be better, but now he knows that was a lie. Mingyu looks like a child as he stands here in the café, confused and frightened. It’s wrong, maybe, but Seokmin’s never loved him more than he does right now. He wants to take care of him, to soothe the hurt he caused. He wants to take his face between his palms and murmur kind words to him. Sing to him, kiss him, tuck him into bed.
He wants Kim Mingyu at his mercy again.
“How strange,” he laughs, instead. “What did you say your name was?”
[FILL] I used to build dreams about you
Major Tags: inception au, past non-consensual actions
Additional Tags: i’ve seen inception one time like ten years ago lmao please be gentle ;;;
Permission to remix: yes
Mingyu isn’t the same after.
That’s what the rumours say, anyway. Seokmin wouldn’t know for sure.
He was supposed to keep his distance — there’s nothing more dangerous than getting recognized by a mark — and he did, didn’t he? They pulled off the job. The team split up. It’s been six months, and the most he’s gotten is a few bland messages from Chan, reassuring Seokmin that he’s been working hard. As though that’s the most important thing. Seokmin guesses for Chan, it is. It isn’t for Seokmin, though. Seokmin loved the dreaming itself, and the people he met in their dreams.
Seokmin had loved Kim Mingyu, sort of, but only the version of him he met in a dream. Scared and shivering and confused.
At Seokmin’s mercy.
Seokmin wonders if Mingyu’s different in person, now. He must be. Seokmin catches himself thinking about it more than he should, maybe. It’s just that he wants to know. And if he just happened to end up living in the same corner of the city as Mingyu six months later, well. It’s just coincidence, that’s all.
Seokmin lives on the straight and narrow now. Seungcheol told Seokmin he'd never be able to go back to a normal life, but he'd underestimated how badly Seokmin wanted to please his mom. He works as an intern at an architecture firm exactly two blocks from Kim Mingyu’s father’s company headquarters, but that doesn’t mean much. It’s a crowded city. The chances of meeting Kim Mingyu are —
Well.
More than zero, apparently, because Seokmin’s at one of the coffee shops that line the road at street level, waiting for his team manager’s order, when he sees him.
He’s tall, which Seokmin knew already. He’s handsome, which Seokmin also knew. The expression on his face is new, though, and so are his jagged, bitten nails when he reaches for his cup.
Seokmin is staring.
Seokmin is staring and Mingyu looks up before he can stop, head tilting at the sight of Seokmin’s face, recognition dawning in his expression.
Seokmin watches as Mingyu comes closer, hesitance in his posture.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Do I know you?”
Seokmin’s breath catches. He forces out a laugh, bright and easygoing.
“Maybe?” he asks, still smiling, as though this is all just a funny coincidence. As though it means nothing at all.
“Did we go to school together?” Mingyu presses, and Seokmin’s palms start to sweat.
“Where did you go?” The words come out very steady — he’s proud of himself.
“Seoul National,” Mingyu says slowly, and Seokmin nods.
“Ah,” he says, voice coming out just a little too loud. “That must be it, then!”
“What did you study?” Mingyu presses. He’s frowning, just the slightest bit, a tiny crease between his eyebrows as he tries to figure it out. Like he knows there’s something he’s missing.
There is, of course. Seokmin can only pray he doesn’t figure it out.
“Architecture,” he answers anyway, because he’s always been a horrible fucking liar. “You?”
The line between Mingyu’s eyebrows deepens.
“I can’t remember,” he admits.
Of course he doesn’t remember — Seokmin took it from him. Mingyu had been first in their class, all four years, and Seokmin couldn’t bear it. When he’d realized who their mark was the opportunity had been perfect.
And it isn’t it better, like this? Mingyu was so pressured by his father, so burdened, or at least that’s what Seungcheol had said. Now he doesn’t feel it at all. Mingyu works for one of his father’s non-profits now, Seokmin knows. The company is going to go to his sister.
When he did it Seokmin told himself it would be better, but now he knows that was a lie. Mingyu looks like a child as he stands here in the café, confused and frightened. It’s wrong, maybe, but Seokmin’s never loved him more than he does right now. He wants to take care of him, to soothe the hurt he caused. He wants to take his face between his palms and murmur kind words to him. Sing to him, kiss him, tuck him into bed.
He wants Kim Mingyu at his mercy again.
“How strange,” he laughs, instead. “What did you say your name was?”