Fox called him 'his' and Mingyu shivered again, eyes squeezing shut. He liked that. He liked it a little too much, wanted it a little too badly. Mingyu had come this far in his life wanting nothing, needing nothing, so he could never be cut as deeply again as when he lost his parents.

But this⁠—

This, right here, this warmth. The feeling of Fox's lips, his quiet assertion that Mingyu was his, so effortlessly giving Mingyu somewhere to belong⁠—

It was worth the risk. It left Mingyu a little terrified, but it thrilled him too. He wouldn't trade this for anything, wouldn't trade Fox for anything. For this, he'd take on all the hurt in the world.

"You can't steal what was always meant to be yours," Mingyu countered quietly, face hot, still worrying the same worry he'd felt this entire time that he was coming on too strong, knowing full well Fox worried about the exact same thing and they were all but living together by now. It felt like a delicate game, in ways. All the things they left unspoken, as though looking at them head on would cause whatever they had to shatter and they'd have to go back to their separate lives again.

It felt like all of this was a long Cinderella ball, only to last as long as the illusion held.

"...say it again," he mumbled, sounding a little sullen, a little shy. "Call me yours."