Wonwoo never understood regret or pain really well – the concept of revenge sitting foreign on his tongue and chest, like the bitter taste of coffee touching his lips and warming his chest.

That’s exactly how he feels while he sits at the kitchen counter, socked feet skimming at the bare tiles as he sips at the coffee Mingyu left in a warm flask with a note. He waits for Mingyu to return home from wherever he’s went, the soft pitter patter of the rain outside drowning the quiet hum of the old heater they have at home.

He lifts his mug for another warm sip.

Home.

Whose home is it now anyways? Is it just Mingyu’s, or is it back to being theirs? Wonwoo can’t certainly put a label on it.

When they had moved a couple of boxes back into the apartment unit in sparring times, Mingyu offering to do most of the hard work, Wonwoo was overwhelmed with the sense of familiarity.

It was a resultant of Mingyu’s quiet request at the thirteenth late dinner in the nearby tteokbokki stand, chopsticks pushing around the food in his bowl, and mouth chewing slowly, unlike the hearty mouths he usually takes, sloppily with a wide grin.

“Wonwoo, would you like to come back home?” he had asked, voice carrying a whisper in the cold winter air.

The soft, red carpet at the doorstep was a contrast to the bright yellow one back at Jun and Minghao’s, and the entire house had smelt like Wonwoo’s favourite tea and Mingyu’s perfume. The sweet, musky scent of sandalwood enveloping him in a warm hug, just like the man standing next to him, who stole guarded glances at Wonwoo as he stood at the doorstep to take everything in since the past few months.

“You didn’t change anything in the apartment,” Wonwoo had said.

“It didn’t feel right to do so,” Mingyu’s eyes flitted between the cold floor and Wonwoo’s warm eyes.

Home was still home – and home, no matter how much Wonwoo (or Jun, for the matter) tries to deny it, is where Mingyu is.

The door opens with a soft click today, the sound of rain droplets being shaken out of Mingyu’s umbrella making Wonwoo turn back to look at the figure at the door. Soft hair falling into his face, Mingyu balances the plastic bags in his hand as he lets the cold and musky scent from outside evade into their warm house, carefully juggling his packed hands as he shuts the door and removes his shoes.

He looks up from his fringe like he’s been caught in an act, wide eyes staring at Wonwoo as if he’s guilty for making too much noise and had woken Wonwoo up. Wonwoo only smiles and pads towards the door.

“Hello,” Wonwoo greets.

He slides a couple of plastic bags out of Mingyu’s hands, the latter’s fingers cold from the weather outside unlike the warmth it usually holds when he tries to find Wonwoo’s fingers under the mess of blanket and throw pillows when they’re watching a movie in the living room.

“Here, give me that,” he smiles.

Mingyu smiles back. “Good morning,” he says softly. “I bought some eggs at the market, we ran out of it. And I got fish, to make for dinner,” he makes conversation.

Wonwoo listens, as they both move around the kitchen and he removes the groceries one by one from the bags. “You’re cooking tonight too?”

It’s been nine months since the break-up. Three months since the apology, and two months since he’s moved into their place. Yet, Mingyu has spent all of it with guarded steps, dancing around Wonwoo as if he’s stained glass and Mingyu is a tool made to break it. He’s spent all of it trying to convey his feelings and apology to Wonwoo, as he cooks for Wonwoo even after he gets home from two shifts of work, and has to fight back rush hours just to make sure he can stop by a food stand to get the last serving of Wonwoo’s favourite soup.

 And Wonwoo knows this, because he sees the regret in Mingyu’s eyes when he hands him an ice cream sometimes, in the frozen yogurt parlour a few blocks away, the other’s eyes always tinted with a hint of apology which always works hard to try and get Wonwoo to believe him – that believe me, I love you so much. Mingyu occasionally believes that Wonwoo’s heart will remain as frozen as the ice cream forever, but what he doesn’t know is that Wonwoo melts a little more when he sees Mingyu’s beautiful face.

Wonwoo turns to put the fresh vegetables Mingyu has gotten, the vibrant red and greens standing out in their kitchen. “You’ve been cooking awful a lot lately.”

“Just figured I had some time,” he smiles, bringing the carton of eggs to the stove. “Tell me how you want me to cook the fish. What’re you in the mood for?”

Wonwoo hums as he watches Mingyu crack eggs into a bowl and shift them into a hot pan after seasoning it. His eyes follow Mingyu as he moves to get a pair of chopsticks. “Why don’t you grill it? With some vegetables?”

Mingyu turns to smile at him. “Sounds good. Cherry tomatoes and sweet potatoes?”

“Yes, please. And carrots too,” Wonwoo smiles back.

“Okay, I’ll peel the potatoes in the evening then.”

“Can I help you make it?”

“Of course,” Mingyu grins, and it automatically puts a soft grin on Wonwoo’s face, like a second nature, a reflex.

And that’s the thing. It’s how their relationship builds up, both of them cautiously taking care of each other, like it’s a secret ritual, an absolute duty of theirs to make sure their other half is always safe, and healthy.

When Wonwoo first saw him, months after missing his constant, Mingyu had looked so frail, as compared to the muscles and beautiful tan, golden, skin he used to be. Patching up their relationship, Wonwoo realized, had brought Mingyu back to life. Wonwoo, through the small glances he takes above his bowl of soybean noodles acknowledged that meals taken together was the only meal Mingyu managed to force himself to eat, and the realization had broken his heart a little bit more.

Thus it was clear, for Wonwoo to always accept the food Mingyu gives him – to always know not to decline an approach for lunches together during the shy month after their reconciliation. It is a responsibility, to sit with Mingyu and eat with him, to satisfy his own beating heart and churning stomach that Mingyu is okay, and he’s back to gaining weight and giving Wonwoo his dazzling smiles again, hidden behind his cutleries.

Something about things like that made Wonwoo’s heart swell, so much that it takes away his hunger, though he still convinces himself to finish and stomach all the food Mingyu has made for him.

“Eat, stop looking at me.” Mingyu chastised, nose red from the cold, and ears red from the attention.

“Okay,” Wonwoo had smiled, heart warm from the sight in front of him.

Meals with Mingyu are also the best part of the day, for Wonwoo, because he gets to see a healthy boy in front of him, sating his eyes with the most ethereal view of Mingyu laughing around his rice, or shyly placing food into Wonwoo’s bowl. It’s the happiest he sees Mingyu, and it is enough to make him happy too.

When Mingyu moves to the living room after lunch, a basket full of potatoes and carrots to peel in his hand, Wonwoo turns the volume down on the TV, the third installation of Harry Potter left aside to hum in the background as he focuses his attention on the man sitting next to him instead.

“Increase the volume up a little, I came in here to watch the TV,” Mingyu juts out a pair of plush lips.

“I turned it down so you won’t be distracted,” Wonwoo laughs back.

“I won’t get distracted,” he gives back a shy grin.

“Need any help?” Wonwoo asks, reaching over to the extra knife Mingyu places on the table.

“Are you sure you won’t cut your hand?” Mingyu teases.

“You think too low of me,” Wonwoo pouts.

“I’m just kidding, baby,” he smiles at Wonwoo, the pet name slipping shyly. Wonwoo loves it when Mingyu calls him such, sweetly, pink dusting his cheeks. “Don’t hurt yourself peeling the carrots, Won.”

“I won’t, baby,” he says back, turning Mingyu scarlet.

Mingyu still remains cautious later, when he touches Wonwoo around the waist to move past him in the kitchen, and when he wants to scold Wonwoo for getting too close to the hot oven. There remains a nagging feeling in his chest, a warning to never be mean to Wonwoo or evade his personal space, wary of any wrong move he might make. Wonwoo despises this, though refusing to voice it out, because he understands Mingyu’s cautiousness, how he might feel after losing someone – so he doesn’t say anything when Mingyu calls him over to feed him some fish from the pan, only complimenting the taste with a hand placed on the others’ hip.

“Does it need more salt?’

“No, it’s perfect.” Wonwoo chews. “It’s always perfect,” he says, referring to not only the food, but the man he is with, and everything about him – and little does Mingyu know this.

There’s barely left a sliver of sun outside, when Wonwoo’s lips are greasy and glistening with the residue of smoked butter, and Mingyu finally cuts into his fillet to take a tiny bite after glancing at Wonwoo, a satisfied hum escaping his lips, a small smile playing on it. They sit around the small dining table, socked feet nudging each other. It’s almost as if the past few months never happened.

Wonwoo absolutely loves days like this.

It’s later when Mingyu takes Wonwoo’s plate away, stopping the other from making the dishes as he walks into the kitchen, sleeves of his sweater rolled up to get prepared for cleaning. Wonwoo is grateful, very much so, to be here again, in a house they call their own, with a boyfriend who loves him with his entire being. Wonwoo doesn’t think, neither does he stop himself, when he shuffles over to where Mingyu is standing, hands wrapping around his waist as he lays his head on broad shoulders.

“Hi,” Wonwoo says.

Mingyu stiffens, but accepts, face turned to catch Wonwoo giving him the softest smile, affection pouring through his soul. He wonders how much regret he would’ve been wallowing in if he hadn’t gotten Wonwoo back, if he would have able to have lived without coming home to this beautiful man again, if it was possible to carry on a life without seeing the prettiest grin Wonwoo shines him. Mingyu cannot imagine, cannot fathom the possibility of a life as devastating as that, and he’s barely thinking either when he presses his lips against Wonwoo’s, a thumb brushing his jaw.

His lips are chapped, but he hopes Wonwoo doesn’t care, when he presses his lips against Wonwoo’s the second time, a little harder, but pace kept slow – heart warm in the middle of winter. Wonwoo reciprocates the affection, mind void of any thoughts but the person in front of him who has given his entire heart as Wonwoo’s property.

“I love you, Wonwoo,” Mingyu whispers against his lips.

“I know,” he whispers back, nosing Mingyu. “So do I.”

Mingyu’s heart is filled with love, one he wonders if he will have enough time to shower Wonwoo with, and he hopes the life the universe holds in front of them will always provide him an opportunity to love this man the best, fingers always tingling with the buzz of emotions he tries to hold in. And Mingyu suddenly hopes, that God, please never let Wonwoo slip through his fingers again – let them live in a world that cocoons the both of them in a sphere of their own.

“God Wonwoo, I love you so much,” he chokes out a whisper again, the fondness in his voice unrestrained. “I don’t ever want to be in a world without you.”

Wonwoo stares back at him, eyes full of love, and adoration, and affection – but it will never get overwhelming, because he will spend the rest of his life relishing this feeling of being with Mingyu.

“Me neither, baby. I love you,” he says, punctuating his words with another soft peck of their lips.

When hands caress jaws, and fingers tighten around waists, the cold weather tapping against their window is not heeded as plush lips are enough to thaw any cold ice. That’s what Mingyu briefly thinks, soft lips coddling against thin ones – slowly, gently – soothing and warmer than any tea Wonwoo could drink in winter. Wonwoo loves the taste of this, and resides in the feeling of Mingyu’s strong arms around his body.

Sharp knocks at the door gets Mingyu to slide his fingers from Wonwoo’s face, lips parting. Four taps, each with a one second interval that gets Mingyu’s heart to beat in sync with it, because the knock abruptly reminds him of the existence of the outside world – the outside world that’s capable of taking his Wonwoo away, and he sighs when he looks away from Wonwoo, fingers sinking deep into the basin to clear the dishes, a conversation and moment broken from insistent tap tap taps from outside.

Wonwoo doesn’t move his eyes away from Mingyu’s frame, when the taller suddenly crumples into himself with hunched shoulders and soapy hands that are bound to get wrinkly – and yet, he cannot wait until he gets to feel those cold, pruned fingers caressing his face again.

He doesn’t want Mingyu to mistake, and this spurs him to softly thread his fingers through Mingyu’s hair, a silent reassurance to tell him to not worry, I’m here. Mingyu leans a little into it, but otherwise doesn’t make a show to look at Wonwoo.

When another set of knocks sound from outside, Wonwoo shuffles quietly to the short hallway and opens the door for his guests. He’s not taken aback to catch sight of Junhui standing at his doorstep, a frown carved into his face, with a smiling Minghao by his side, both with hands full of convenience store plastics.

“Hi, Wonwoo,” Minghao shows his teeth, and Wonwoo feels warm to have his friends in his house.

“I brought you your favourite snacks,” Junhui grunts, part dissatisfied that the house occupies another tenant besides his best friend.

“Come in.”

The voices from the living room carries its way to the kitchen, nearing Mingyu as he hears plastic bags being placed on the counter behind him, the sound of feet shuffling into the premises filtering in softly. His body goes rigid, stiff as he scrubs off the stain on the pot he’s cleaning before he attempts to relax and turn his body. Wonwoo sees how tight the smile Mingyu throws them looks, notices the anxiousness in his eyes, and the strain in his voice when he greets their visitors.

“Hello. Welcome,” he smiles at them.

“Hi Mingyu.” Minghao greets back. “You guys made dinner? I can still smell food in the house, and it smells great,” he says, kind at Mingyu as he builds up a conversation.

“Yeah, we did.” His smile remains polite, yet genuine. “If we had known you were coming over, I would have made more.”

“What a shame. We should all have dinner sometime soon. Maybe you can cook then,” Minghao continues. Jun remains silent by his side, eyes avoiding contact with the man Wonwoo lives with.

Jun clears his throat. “Wonwoo, if you finish up the goddamn Pepero sticks and banana chips within a week again, I swear to god I’m disowning you,” he diverts all attention, busying himself as he unloads the plastic. “Even Minghao doesn’t burn my pocket as much as you do.”

Wonwoo’s mouth curves upwards. “Hey now, you’re the one who comes over buying food. I don’t remember ever asking you for any of them.”

“Ungrateful Wonwoo, you’re so ungrateful,” he nags, throwing a box of Pepero at his friend’s general direction.

Mingyu doesn’t look back, still busying himself with rinsing the dishes and wiping them clean by the sink, pace steady and slow as he buys himself sometime before he has to turn around and make conversation at Jun, the man Mingyu knows holds a deep hatred towards him. Mingyu has no right to blame him for that – he understands why Jun would feel so about him.

Its only minutes later when Minghao is opening a bag of chips to share when Mingyu finally participates in the conversation, getting hold of the soft look Wonwoo gives him, a sign of thanking Mingyu to join his friends. He smiles back.

“It’s really cold these days,” he starts. “How did you guys come here?”

“Jun drove,” Minghao replies with a smile.

“I remember Wonwoo saying how the engine froze the other day because of the weather. Is it fixed now?” He tries asking Jun.

“Yeah, it’s all okay now. Had to pay quite a bit for it though, since the car’s pretty old by itself,” Minghao answers for him instead, covering up the lone silence following Mingyu’s question when Jun gives no response.

“Maybe I can help next time. I’ve had my car doing that to me too back at home last time, and it’s pretty easy to fix once you know which wires to play around with,” he says.

“I don’t need your help,” Jun cuts him coldly.

“Oh. Yeah, um, that’s alright. I was just–” Mingyu stutters to take his words back in a panic. His hands are in a tight clasp, cold and twitching when he averts eyes to his lap.

“Quit trying so hard to fix things.”

“Jun,” Wonwoo warns.

“No, I don’t get it Wonwoo,” he stands up. “Why are you still trying to fix things with him?” He turns to his best friend.

“Jun, cut it out,” Minghao reprimands, trying to stop his boyfriend from hurling hurtful words.

“Get out of it Wonwoo. Get out of your ing head and see things properly! He’s never going to do you any good, and even if he does he’s never gonna do it for long,” he relents, anger bubbling with the sight of Mingyu in front of him. “Stop deluding yourself into loving him and–”

“Stop it, Jun.” Wonwoo raises his voice. “Just ing stop it! You don’t get to ing tell me who I should and shouldn’t love. You know I love him, but you keep forcing me into making decisions against what I want to do. Why don’t you understand how I feel?”

“It’s for your own good, Won–”

“You keep saying it’s for my own good but you don’t get how it hurts me, Jun. You keep hurting me and you keep hurting Mingyu, and I don’t like what that does. Stop saying about him. I love you, but stop telling me what to do,” he heaves a breath.

The room is silent, and Jun is left staring at his friend with a tight jaw and hard eyes. Minghao is silent, and when Wonwoo catches sight of Mingyu, he feels sorry for the latter. He doesn’t deserve this, no matter what he’s done in the past. Mingyu doesn’t deserve being insulted and pinned at over and over again when Wonwoo is trying so hard to move on from the past.

Mingyu sits at the corner of the counter with his head hanging low, but Wonwoo sees how his tall body is shaking, and how white his hands look twisted together in his lap. He thinks about the amount of time Jun has fleetingly belittled Mingyu – be it when he calls Wonwoo or when he texts him, or even when they’re out somewhere and Mingyu is right by his side. Junhui always throws a blunt comment in the defense of protecting Wonwoo – and no matter how many times Wonwoo softly begs him to stop, Junhui doesn’t, like a strict, protective mother.

“I’m leaving,” Jun announces, rising to his feet.

When they move towards the door, Mingyu still remaining seated quietly in the kitchen. Jun grabs his coat and hesitates before he turns around to look at Wonwoo, feeling guilt course through him when he catches the distress enveloping his best friend, shoulders tense.

“I’m sorry,” Jun says sincerely, loud enough to be heard to both the occupants of the house, before he opens the door and steps out to leave, and Wonwoo cannot register who the sorry was directed to.

Minghao sighs before turning to follow. “I’m sorry about him, Wonwoo. Please tell Mingyu I said sorry too. I’ll see you.”

“Tell Jun I’ll call him later,” Wonwoo relays before waving him out.

When the door shuts close and Wonwoo turns back, he catches the watery smile Mingyu gives him while walking into the living room. Wonwoo itches to say something – an apology on behalf of Junhui, or an encouragement and words of love. Though Wonwoo, understands that it wouldn’t take Jun’s words back, and he lets himself watch Mingyu slowly trudge to their bedroom with hunched shoulders, void of any pride. Wonwoo despises that look on him – when those broad shoulders were made to stand tall and strong, but is instead reduced to broken.

It is minutes later when Wonwoo retires to the room to check on Mingyu, the kitchen cleaned from any specks of dropped potato chips. When he enters, Mingyu is retreating from the bathroom, changed into warm clothes to sleep in, but face splotchy and red, hands toying with the towel in his hand at the sight of Wonwoo. Wonwoo breathes out a silent sigh, moving towards the tall man standing at the edge of his bed, hands raised to brush slender fingers against the tan cheek. He raises on his toes to reach a soft kiss on Mingyu’s forehead before moving to wash up for the night, emotionally exhausted and tired.

Mingyu lays in bed, mind whirring with possibilities of Wonwoo taking heed to Junhui’s warnings. As he stares the ceiling, he doesn’t notice how his eyes water when he wonders if this is it – if its time when Wonwoo finally realized how worthless and undeserving Mingyu is, vision blurry when he thinks if Wonwoo would emerge from the bathroom with a new mind, as he will pack his bags and leave the place they call home. His arm cramps underneath his head, but Mingyu can’t pay any attention to it, since it hurts more in his chest, almost physically, and his breath constrains.

The soft creak of the bathroom door has Mingyu out of his reverie, body turning away from Wonwoo as he squeezes his eyes shut and controls his shaky breaths. He looks like he’s curled into himself, like he’s in physical pain, and this makes Wonwoo deposit his towel at the side of the bed before he climbs onto it, the mattress dipping the slightest bit –and Mingyu’s body stiffens.

“Gyu, hey. Are you still awake?”

Mingyu likes to think he isn’t an anxious man, but it wouldn’t be the truth, as he is weak when it comes to dealing any matter with Wonwoo. Despite this, he manages to regain composure to turn at Wonwoo with a smile, though it deceives, since his red eyes give it away.

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, but instead pulls the cover onto them, seeking bits of warmth in the cold weather. When the sheets sit soft on Mingyu’s waist, calming against the smooth material of his striped shirt, Wonwoo nestles into Mingyu’s chest, a content sigh escaping his lips. It takes no time for Mingyu’s arms to go around Wonwoo’s waist, an instinctive action to protect him from any harm, or even the harsh weather.

Wonwoo cups a hand around Mingyu’s cheek, thumb brushing against the wetness Mingyu didn’t realize was left there, his eyes finding the other hesitantly. Wonwoo decides, the worst kind of hurt is seeing your loved one in pain, distraught and painted in sad vulnerability.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers.

He doesn’t understand how Mingyu is overwhelmed, heart scratching against his chest painfully to pour out his feelings to Wonwoo, words stuck in his throat, thick with choked tears. He’s desperate in a way he’s never been before – not even when he confessed after the break up, and the rush of emotions turns Mingyu numb, mind engulfed in everything, and nothing at all.

So he says, the only words he could ever relay to Wonwoo by heart.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I hope you know that.”

“I know, Mingyu,” Wonwoo cards his fingers through Mingyu’s hair. “And I know you never stopped.”

“I’m sor-”

“No. You need to quit saying that because we’ve both agreed to move on from that. Stop beating yourself up, Mingyu. I don’t like it when you do that.”

“Junhui’s right,” his breath stutters. “He’s so right about everything he says about me and –”

“Stop it Mingyu,” Wonwoo scolds. “You know he isn’t right.”

“Won, you know you deserve better. I hurt you so much, treated you like ,” he steadies his gaze on Wonwoo firmly, albeit watery. “I– I ing ruined everything and I’ll never ing be the boyfriend you deserve, Wonwoo.”

“Baby,” Wonwoo whispers.

“I’ll never be enough,” he whispers painfully, and Wonwoo’s heart clenches at the pain weaving through Mingyu’s words.

“Remind yourself about how amazing you were before that, then,” Wonwoo starts. “Try to remember how you used to try read my books along with me to make me happy, and force on extra socks when I’m cold. How you used to carry me to bed when I fell asleep on the couch, and how you always made me food thrice a day as much as you can. How you bought me hot drinks and how you gave me your heart. How you love me, and how you became my motivation.” Wonwoo says all this, eyes holding Mingyu’s and fingers pressing to wipe away the lone tear slipping out the other’s eye – and he breaks a little to see Mingyu so small, so unsure and vulnerable beside him.

 “I’ll never know what I did to have you, Wonwoo,” Mingyu closes his eyes, a wet tear catching in his eyelashes. “But I’ll always be grateful for it. All my life, Wonwoo – I’ll spend all my life to make you happy,” Mingyu says, a hand brushing at  Wonwoo’s jaw, then moving to brush a lock of hair off his forehead.

“And I’ll have no doubts in believing you on that,” Wonwoo whispers back, a press of lips against the man he loves.

And Wonwoo is sure that when morning light comes past the thin curtains, filtered by the foggy air tomorrow, the sheets might be cold – but his heart will remain warm. Because Mingyu will greet him with a press of his bones together with a gentle hug past the door – a cup of takeaway coffee in his hand and loving greeting on his lips. Wonwoo will pepper kisses on him as Mingyu’s soft laugh reverberates within the apartment, and nestle his face against cold nose and warm collarbones, happy that he is living his life with the man he loves.

“Baby, you’ll get late for work.”

“I don’t care.”

It will all be okay, and even Mingyu is sure of this – because their love will be eternal.