Winter was never too cold for Mingyu. He liked how the cold numbed his lips and limbs, offering an unguilty leeway to light up a cigarette or chug some whiskey to warm his body and forget the culpability chipping at his heart for a painless, blunt and fuzzy minute. Wonwoo much preferred it when Mingyu’s breath tasted like strawberry schnapps and mints, frozen lips and fingers defrosting under the other’s touch. Slowly, in a lazy pace, their fingers and lips tracing each other’s moles and lines, fit for winter Sundays.

Or that’s how it used to be.

Mingyu walked down the snowy gravel just like all the other days, searching the empty, snow tainted streets for his beautiful lover. Within the past five months, it had somehow become a routine to exit the house with only a jacket and no gloves, forcing the cold to numb him willingly. If Wonwoo were by his side, he would scold him for being so nonchalant.

“You’ll catch a cold, Gyu. I told you to bring your scarf,” he nagged.

“Then why don’t you warm me up, baby?” Mingyu chuckled, leaning into Wonwoo cheekily, frozen hand snaking its way into the other’s jacket in search of Wonwoo’s slender, warm fingers.

“’Course,” Wonwoo mumbled, gripping tighter and kissing the edge of Mingyu’s lips.

“What do you think about pizza?” He hummed.

“I’m feeling more burger.”

“Well let’s get both then,” Mingyu pecked him full on the lips.

Wonwoo would also like kissing under the streetlight he’s walking under, pulling Mingyu’s collar among bright multi-coloured lights strung up for Christmas and New Year’s Eve. He missed Wonwoo’s lips on his, sticky berry lip balm sealing two mouths together.

He once lost Wonwoo over the stupid mistakes he did, trivial problems not so trivial – a heart not broken into two, but shattered and crumbled into non-existence. So much, that picking up the pieces was impossible, since for Mingyu, he didn’t understand how to differentiate the broken pieces from his and Wonwoo’s – though Wonwoo’s heart was probably already collected and stored in a frosted jar, while Mingyu’s was left mixing with the dirt on the ground.

Mingyu forgot how it was to spend a morning not waking up to have his vision blurred by hot tears, a norm he had come to adapt while mourning over Wonwoo’s leaving, the habit subsiding from an ugly wail, to a sniffle, and finally in numb acceptance – his right side left cold, void of the morning snuggle that pressed against the length of his entire body upon waking hours.

“Baby, your toes are cold.”

“Mm, but you’re so warm,” Wonwoo murmured, slotting his head into the crook of Mingyu’s neck, finding a couple hours of purchase in the small space.

“Come closer,” Mingyu breathed, carding his fingers through soft locks and shuffling closer to rest his cheek against his forehead, pulling closer to disintegrate any bare thread spaces left between them.

Mingyu would be a bigger liar if he said his actions for the past half a year wasn’t a mistake. He would admit a thousand times to Wonwoo, down on his knees, that his wrong doings were immensely unforgivable, a sin. But right past his guilty mistakes, underneath his pale flesh, alcohol tainted blood, and now ice frosted over heart, he loved, loves, Wonwoo terribly with every ounce of his willpower – so much that if Mingyu were to lose his energy and fall on the streets because of hypothermia, Wonwoo’s name would be the last words on his lips, that would mix with the morning fog and disappear within the winter air.

“Good morning, Won.”

“Hey,” he cracked a lazy grin, limbs stretching.

“The air’s cold this morning isn’t it?”

“It’s okay when I’m with you,” he smiled, eyes crinkling into crescents.

He didn’t know when the shift happened, but it definitely took place very, very slowly in the beginning. It occurred as if the world was tilting off its axis subtly, to cover the obviousness of upcoming disaster, and then falling right off over the time, crashing the universe fully.

Three years into their relationship, he never bothered buying Wonwoo flowers when he got home, the scent of nectar failing to waft around the apartment. And nor did Mingyu bother kissing Wonwoo’s cheek as a sign of affection when Wonwoo waited by the door when hearing Mingyu’s footsteps echoing in the corridor, lips ready to greet him with a warm smile, and arms a welcome home. Mingyu remembered brushing aside Wonwoo, and how Wonwoo’s smile had flinched off his face. He remembered thinking he was too ing tired to care. 

“Baby, I’m home,” Mingyu announced at the doorway, off-balancedly toeing off his shoes, neat flowers loosely gripped on his left hand, fumbling to steady himself with the other free hand on the knob.

Wonwoo padded to go fetch Mingyu, only to send him a glare when he caught sight of a few dark red carnations tied at the stem. “Mingyu, you shouldn’t have wasted money on those,” he frowned.

“I got the job. Interview went well,” he kissed Wonwoo’s cheek.

Wonwoo grinned. “That’s amazing, Gyu. Celebratory dinner?”

Mingyu vaguely remembered the days he would return home late, drunk out of his mind with blurry eyes. Wonwoo got used to the system of sitting still on the couch waiting for the shrill ring of Mingyu’s phone call, fingers twiddling around each other in anxiousness – and Mingyu faintly recalled seeing the worry and relief flood through Wonwoo when his eyes found a silhouette stumble its way through the door. He never felt guilty for worrying Wonwoo and keeping him up late, and when Wonwoo would softly throw himself into his arms in relief, Mingyu would only slur a few drunken words and walk past him to pass out on the bed, the smell shifting from fabric conditioner to grits and smoke.

“Mingyu,” he exclaimed in relief. “Thank god you’re home.”

“Jesus Wonwoo, it’s already hot, don’t suffocate me. I’m home aren’t I? Let me sleep.”

Mingyu would much rather spend his time with mutual colleagues at the bar downtown, drowning his system with shots of alcohol as he wasted their rent money playing billiard and casino whilst falling into debt. He never found himself home tired from long shifts of various jobs anymore. Instead he started smelling like venom and cheap motels, a disgusting mix of street smell sticking onto Mingyu, instead of the sweet scent of fabric softener and Wonwoo’s shampoo that used to cling on him like a personal perfume.

“Hey baby. Are you coming home soon? I made that seafood stew you’ve been asking all of last week.” Mingyu didn’t hear how hopeful Wonwoo had sounded on the phone, annoyance itching at his own throat at how the other couldn’t leave him alone for a night for himself.

“I’m not coming home. Just put the soup in the fridge or something. Don’t wait up.”

“But Gyu, it’s getting late and–” Wonwoo’s grin fell off his face.

“Wonwoo just go sleep or something.” And all Wonwoo heard after was the mocking dial tone at his ear. ringing

–

“Jun. Jun, he’s not picking up his phone,” Wonwoo’s voice cracked over the static phone, mind and hand a scramble in search for his car keys.

“Wonwoo, don’t get out of the house. You listen to me? I’m coming over and we’ll go look together okay?”

Jun had stayed with Wonwoo on the phone throughout his drive, only agreeing to hanging up over the line for two and a half minutes when Wonwoo insisted to check his phone for Mingyu’s calls. Jun had called back right after the two minutes, blabbering words of nonsense to calm the other down, and when he reached, he had to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist to gently to stir him out of his panic, coaxing soothing words into his head before getting him to put on some shoes and a scarf before going out to look for the other’s boyfriend.

“Wonwoo, it’s okay. We’ll find him okay? It’s okay,” Jun coaxed, eyes flitting over the road and the shivering figure beside him.

“I tried calling Seungcheol but he isn’t picking up his phone either. If Mingyu’s out, he should be out drinking with him,” Wonwoo let out shakily.

“Do you have anyone else’s number?”

“No,” he whispered.

“Let’s just around his office and try looking around there okay? Don’t worry Won,” Jun convinced.go

When Jun had ran around the area of Mingyu’s office for over a good 45 minutes with a frantic and weakening Wonwoo in tow, he wasn’t sure if the feeling that washed over him was gratefulness or white rage when he saw Mingyu draped across the table, passed out over a pool of beer with a drunk Seungcheol by his side.

“Mingyu, oh my god.” Wonwoo’s voice had cracked, in sync with his heart.

Mingyu didn’t know how he was carried on Jun’s shoulder with struggle towards his car, nor did he remember Wonwoo nursing after him throughout the car ride back home and the entire night. When he woke up the next morning with bile in his throat, he didn’t notice he was put into fresh clothes when he brushed past Wonwoo in annoyance to get to the toilet.

“, my head,” he grumbled, hand pressing on his head to stop the headache.

“Are you okay, Gyu?” Wonwoo’s question hung ignored in the bedroom.

Jun had asked him that night quietly, when he was shrugging his coat on before leaving the threshold after disposing a drunk Mingyu, voice neutral as to not sound forceful or accusing. “Wonwoo, are you sure this is even okay? It’s not healthy Won. He’s been going on about like this for too long,” he said, voice laced with concern for his best friend.

“It’s okay Jun, he’ll be okay, just give him some time.”

“How much longer Wonwoo? You told me you’ve been the one taking care of rents these past few months. He’s wasting his money gambling, Wonwoo. He can’t do this, it’s irresponsible,” Jun argued, voice clearly distressed over his sentences.

“He’s helped all this while, Jun. It’s just these past few days,” Wonwoo defended weakly, tired off his bones from the emotional baggage.

Jun sighed, giving up. “Just, call me if anything okay? Reach Minghao if I don’t answer. You can call Joshua or his boyfriend too,” he offered.

“I’ll be okay, Jun. Drive safe.”

With a last gather of Wonwoo in his arms, Jun left with a heavy heart of sympathy for his best friend, and Wonwoo had leaned against the door, contemplating. While Jun went home to a boyfriend of warm hugs and sweet smile, Wonwoo was left with a stoic boyfriend he didn’t recognize anymore.

Everything was not okay.

Wonwoo stayed, despite the times he felt unloved, unappreciated, unceasingly alone. He stayed through the struggles, albeit having to be pushed to bear the responsibility of handling all living expenses and quality for two – when he had agreed to working overtime in his office for extra cash.

When he got home to an empty and cold apartment, tired from being hunched over the computer in his temperature centralized office, he would quietly walk into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and make a comfortable seat to wait for his boyfriend to get home, getting used to falling asleep at the kitchen counter with empty call logs he despised, back aching when he woke up the next morning cold.

Your call has reached the voicemail. Please leave the message after the beep.

“Hello! This is Mingyu, and I’m busy. Don’t leave useless voicemails and just call my boyfriend Wonwoo and transfer your message to him instead, thanks!”

Wonwoo figured he would come around, because to Wonwoo their relationship was worth all the moons in Jupiter – but Mingyu, he never came past the stars he found from drinking his alcohol. He never landed his feet back on mother land for Wonwoo to cocoon him into his warmth.

He could still feel the sting on his left cheek, a faint purple mark sweltering around it by then. Wonwoo had been slowly growing sick from being surrounded by false devotion, and it was only normal for him to reach his breaking point, quietly packing his clothes and their old memories far away from Mingyu.

“Mingyu, it’s almost two in the morning. Why’re you late again?” He sighed, head dizzy from forcing his eyes to stare at his laptop, effort to get some work done while he waited up for Mingyu.in

“I had things to do. Work,” he grumbled.

“What work, Mingyu? I called you so many times and you never picked up.”

“I was busy Wonwoo, what’s your problem. Stop freaking interrogating me.” Mingyu could feel the annoyance and anger bubble within him.

“Mingyu, I’m just asking. I just want to know –”

“God Wonwoo, what the hell is your problem?” He raised his voice, turning from the fridge to glare at Wonwoo.

“I’m just worried for you, Mingyu. You’ve been drinking so much these days, and you barely get home sometimes. I get tired too, you know?”

“I do whatever the I want Wonwoo. It’s none of your business, no one asked you to stay awake waiting for me!” He raised his voice.

“None of my business?” Wonwoo eyebrow scrunched. “Mingyu, we live together, we’re committed to each other. Of course it’s my damn business! I’ve been picking up after you when you come home reeking of alcohol and your vomit, Mingyu. I clean you up, and I’ve been paying the bills and the rents by myself for us. I’ve been working overtime to fend for us. Don’t you see that the state of our home is my business?” He fumed, skinny arms flailing about in angered frustration.

“I can’t do this alone, Gyu. I need you. I need you to help me fix things back to what it used to be,” Wonwoo’s voice softened. He stared at Mingyu’s silence.

“Jeon Wonwoo, are you ing blaming me?”

“Mingyu, I never –”

“No. I don’t need you tell me that I’m some useless piece of , and treat me like this,” Mingyu shouted. “You don’t get to sound like a goddamn saint, saying how you’re taking care of my house and feeding us both or some . I don’t need you, I can take care of myself independently!”

“Your house?” Wonwoo asked. “Mingyu this isn’t your house, it’s our house. It used to be home, Mingyu.” Wonwoo shouted, desperation hidden in his voice with every step he stomped closer to Mingyu.

“I don’t ing care, you’re nothing that great so act like it,” Mingyu hissed down at him.

“Well neither are you.”

And that’s when Wonwoo felt hot on his cheek, barely having enough time to register the fist that raised on his left. It stung, though he wasn’t sure what hurt more – his face, the intention beneath Mingyu’s action, or his own heart. When Wonwoo looked at Mingyu with blurred eyes, he wasn’t expecting for the other to not have a change of expression due to his action.

Mingyu didn’t look like he regretted it, his face remaining red from anger, and eyes sharply staring at Wonwoo in fury.

“You didn’t mean to do that,” Wonwoo tried to convince, hand cupped at his cheek to ease the pain, and voice a hoarse whisper.

“I know what I meant to do, Wonwoo.”

When Mingyu pushed past him harshly, he assumed Mingyu’s action wasn’t drunk, his body not whiffing the alcohol perfume he’s been sporting recently.

Mingyu had been very much sober.

-

Wonwoo couldn’t recollect the sense of time when he woke up sky still dark and littered by the little stars the city would allow to show at four in the morning. Mingyu was sprawled on the sheets messily when Wonwoo stepped into the room, and he quietly collected whatever belonging of his he could get hold of in their room into the nearest luggage, his ruffling barely waking Mingyu. When a fresh batch of tears threatened to blur his eyes, he chastised himself to keep it in, his lips wobbling violently from the effort.curled into the couch,

“Hey, Jun? Can you come pick me up?” Wonwoo whispered into the phone at four thirty.

“Uh, hey Wonwoo, it’s Minghao. Is everything okay? Are you crying?” Minghao asked alarmed, sleep-clouded voice sounding more awake every passing second, worry taking over it.

“Can you ask Jun to come get me?” He asked brokenly.

“We’ll be right on our way, Wonwoo. Sit tight okay?”

It took Jun almost less than half the time it usually took for him to go over to Wonwoo’s. Minghao didn’t reprimand him on his speeding, instead opting to stay quiet and waited to reach Wonwoo’s soon, cautiously eyeing Junhui’s tight grip on the steering and his clenched jaw.

“Jun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t okay?”

“I’m going to punch that bastard in the face.”

Jun was seething when he caught sight of the purpling bruise above his jaw. Minghao was calmer, collecting Wonwoo into a tight hug to press all his broken pieces together, shushing him from letting out a broken sob.

“I’m going to kill him,” Jun gritted out.

“Jun, let’s just bring him home.”

That morning when Mingyu was woken up by the wind gushing in through the window, he was on his way to letting out an annoyed grunt, before he found the apartment as cold as the weather outside, temperature uncomfortable for both him and Wonwoo.

“Wonwoo? Wonwoo. Wonwoo. Wonwoo.”

But he never heard the sock-cladded feet padding through the hallway when he found the bed half empty, and neither did he smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee since then. It took Mingyu a long time to come

into terms with that.

“I like my coffee black, Gyu,” Wonwoo yawned, feet dangling next to Mingyu’s figure against the counter, a hair breath’s gap comfortable between them.

“Two sugars, baby?”

“You know it,” he kissed Mingyu with coffee and morning breath.

Mingyu looked past Wonwoo’s leaving initially. He’ll be fine, it’ll all be fine, it’ll be okay. He continued with his drinking habits, growing boastier when Seungcheol cheered on him with every glass he chugged, both the men hooting like lowly drunkards in the middle of the street, tripping

upon their feet. If Mingyu was lucky enough to stumble home at night, he turned to get the wine he and Wonwoo had set in the cabinet for special occasions, hoping the drink would render him to heaven, masking the void of a beautiful Wonwoo at home.

But with passing days, when Mingyu had emptied all three wines straight out of the bottle, he found himself proven wrong as he functioned aimlessly without Wonwoo’s presence –Wonwoo fussing, or cooing, or looking after him. Alcohol remedy wasn’t enough to cloud the sorrow, the burn in his heart becoming a stronger flame when he downed the new bottle of whiskey he got from Seungcheol, a blunt of weed weaving its way into his system somewhere amidst.

With passing nights, it became normal for Mingyu to be perched on the kitchen floor in a sweatpants and Wonwoo’s old shirt, a snug fit against his drooping broad shoulders, looking like the mess he was with a bottle of whiskey burning down his throat mixed with tears – his left hand shaking as he wrote pages of vulnerable apology to his long-gone lover, ugly alphabets a sloppy honesty on paper.

Wonwoo, I’m sorry.

My dear Wonwoo.

I can’t function without you, Won.

Baby, please come back.

Won, I was wrong, come back home.

You don’t understand how it is without you.

Mingyu’s lungs learned to adapt to being choked by sobs, mind adapting to being filled with the remnants of memories Wonwoo had spared him, thinking of their numb lips pressed against each other under the white sheets and shoulders bumped together in the summer. He felt the vast space of emptiness, not only in bed, but overall in his heart, engulf his feelings, and Mingyu felt regretful over the colossal mistakes that made Wonwoo slip through his fingers. He didn’t grasp on tight enough over time.

“Wonwoo, hold my hands. You’re going to fall or else!” Mingyu quickly reaches for Wonwoo who loses his balance on the low barrier.

“You’ll never let me fall, Mingyu,” he laughs, slotting their fingers together.

A cigarette lit between Mingyu’s lips, he yearned to see Wonwoo one last time to tell him how sorry he was for making Wonwoo feel lonely, and like he never had enough. Flimsy winter jacket billowing in the wind, he wanted to hand Wonwoo his tear-soaked inky letters – his drafts and snippets of the most honest words he would want to relay to Wonwoo, all neatly folded into a crisp envelope, now crumpled in its permanent home in Mingyu’s jacket. He sniffled in the cold  air, and continued his walk, hands ghosting over his pocket. All Mingyu would want was to beg shamelessly for another chance that would be filled with sacrifices on his part.

And one day, as he walked down the cold empty streets, he did.

It took him six months and three quarters.

"Mingyu," a voice whispered, and it took Mingyu less than a second to break down into arms that used to be home.

‘