When Mingyu first moved to the city, he was greeted with instant regret. It hadn't been a good fit on him, with the people bumping into him on the streets without so much as a "sorry" and the constant horns honking and car alarms ringing at all hours of the day. He missed the quiet of his life back home, how if he listened closely enough, he could hear crickets and rustling wind and sometimes the distant chirping of birds. There was room to spread out and feel at ease and it didn't smell like rotting garbage and urine when he went out exploring. It smelt like the faint fragrant wildflowers and the sharpness of freshly cut grass. The entire environment had a warmth to it that he couldn't find in the city. All he encountered were sights and sounds and smells that made his stomach twist. He called his mother every day, twice a day sometimes, with sorrow and regret laced between his words. And Mingyu would've run home with his tail between his legs if she didn't constantly remind him why he had moved to the city in the first place.

 

Since he could remember, Mingyu had always loved food. He loved eating it, which grew into a fascination of how it was prepared for him to eat, which led him to shadowing his mother around the kitchen. They grew a lot of their own fresh ingredients themselves and neighbors had animals that provided meat for the community. There was an unspoken friendly bartering system in place: Mingyu's mother would send him off to a neighbor's house with a basket full of beautiful vegetables and he would return with eggs and racks of lamb that his mother would transform into the most spectacular dishes. Since then, he had always helped out, until his helpfulness became an insatiable passion that led him to pursue a career in the city. If only there had been more opportunities in his small town, he could have comfortable stayed there and been happy. But life had something else in store for him, it seemed.

 

It takes five weeks, three days, and approximately nine hours for Mingyu to find something about the city he genuinely is interested in aside from his work. As much as he hates the subway, trying to make his way to work in the rain was far too much of a hassle and a fight he would never win. The first time he had confidently braved a downpour with his umbrella, the wind whipped through the streets like a tornado caught between the towering buildings, destroying his only protection from the rain in minutes. If that hadn't been enough, he had stupidly stood too close to the curb and been doused in dirty street puddle water from a passing taxi. So despite the strange odor and rude commuters, he braves the subway for the sake of staying dry.

 

He hadn't taken much notice to the guy sitting across from him. He was slim and had dyed hair that Mingyu personally thought looked a little ridiculous and he wouldn't have paid him any mind if he hadn't heard him lip off to a man who had smacked him with his briefcase. The culprit had mumbled an apology before exiting the train and Mingyu truly couldn't believe what he had witnessed; a middle-aged man apologizing to a young guy, all because he glared and called him out. He was equal parts impressed and stunned. The rest of his ride is spent curiously studying the brave soul, how his suit jacket seems a bit too big for him in the shoulders and his shoes are scuffed and worn down like they had traveled miles and miles already. The sour-faced guy is attractive enough despite his less than friendly expression (Mingyu felt odd admiring his button nose and shining skin) and he hadn't realized he had been caught staring until it registers in his brain that they had locked eyes and were looking directly at one another for a good (and long) five seconds. The heat Mingyu feels rush to his face remind him of working outside in late summer, when his sweat had his shirt clinging to his back and his mother would bring him something cool and refreshing to drink. Except they were stuck in a stuffy subway car and the dyed hair guy didn't emit the same sunniness as his mother did.

 

He thinks he may be called out but when the omnipresent subway voice announces the arrival at his station, he doesn't waste a moment before standing and bolting out the doors, knocking into someone upon his exit and being so flustered that he doesn't even get out an apology (a fact he'd beat himself up over for the rest of the day).

 

Working in a kitchen is a lot like life in the city, except for the fact that it smells much, much better. There’s a lot of clanging and noise, not to mention the yelling and the fact that he is usually surrounded by grumpy people who snapped at him anytime he accidentally splashed some oil or dropped a spoon. It couldn't be helped that the tenseness of his workplace had him clumsier than normal. The only person who showed him any bit of kindness was one of the waiters, Seokmin. Mingyu likes how bright his smile is and how his joy always seems genuine. It’s a shame they didn't get to work together more; having him around made the day seem less traumatic.

 

Most nights Mingyu didn't end up leaving work until nearly midnight and that evening hadn't been any different. While it was late, he finds that the noise of the city is more muted and the streets less crowded and bustling. Normally he'd take the long walk home (the rain had since stopped) but his feet ache in a particularly painful way, so he opts to take his chances on the subway again.

 

He feels himself nodding off, the screeching of the car wheels along the track and hushed chattering of someone on their cell phone almost lulling him to sleep, but the door between two of the cars shrieks open and jolts him from his momentary rest. In any other case, he would've tried to relax back into his not-quite-sleep rest but the hair of the man passing by him caught his eye. He happens to take a seat across the way, diagonally from Mingyu, and it embarrasses him how quickly he remembers the face.

 

His expression is less antagonized now, more relaxed and almost peaceful. Mingyu can't make out the title of the book he was reading, partly because his eyes keep wandering their way back to the stranger's face. It takes a few stops for them to end up alone in the car together (he becomes far too aware of that) and despite his best efforts, his stubborn head keeps turning its way back towards the guy with dark roots and blonde messy hair. The ill-fitting suit jacket is nowhere to be seen now.

 

"What's your problem?"

 

The voice seems too apathetic for the bluntness of the question asked. And while Mingyu sees the other's lips move, it takes him a moment to register that the question was directed at him. He doesn't realize it until he’s met with a pair of slowly blinking eyes.

 

"Sorry," he mutters, feeling the excruciating heat of embarrassment rush to his face.

 

"That's not an answer." The messy blonde boy who, while small in stature, somehow leaves Mingyu quite intimidated, keeps looking at him even after the subway announces its current stop and a couple of young women funnel in the car with them. Mingyu has half a thought to bolt, to abandon this awful and embarrassing scenario by hoofing the rest of his way home, but his mind conjures up images of this strange guy following after him and by the time he is about to weigh the pros and cons, the car begins moving again.

 

The next option is to ignore him, so Mingyu focuses his eyes down on the floor between his feet and listens to the giggles and whispers of the girls just a few feet from where he’s sitting. He’s doing well until he hears the rustle of clothing and faint footsteps and when his curiosity gets the best of him, he finally looks up and is greeted with the almost smirking face of the nearly scary boy sitting right next to him.

 

"Not so nice when someone is watching you, is it?" It is then that Mingyu notes a slight accent; it sounds nice (he'd say cute if the voice belonged to anyone else, truthfully) and the normal every-day Mingyu would've inquired about where he’s from, but this is a different version of himself. It’s the kind that feels shy and slightly intimidated, yet totally captured by the way a stranger's eyelashes fluttered when he smirked. It’s a new kind of experience for him.

 

Mingyu clears his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." It’s a half-assed excuse and a lie at that (partially? He didn't WANT to stare but it couldn't be helped) but the peculiar boy seems to accept it.

 

He thinks that’s it, that he'd be left alone to die in peace, but the blonde doesn't move from his position beside him. The subway jostles to a stop and their shoulders bump hard enough that Mingyu's mind replays the incident that morning where he mouthed off to the man with the briefcase. But the boy says nothing, playing around with his phone absentmindedly, book tucked under his arm.

 

It’s an odd thing for Mingyu to be so enamored with someone he doesn't even know, but he is so caught up in sneaking glances at him that he nearly misses his stop.

 

Hearing the name, he all but jumps to his feet and slips through the closing doors, turning just in time to see the blonde smirking at him again, phone forgotten in his hand.

 

The short walk to his apartment is interrupted by another burst of rain, but Mingyu can't bring himself to mind getting soaked, for some reason.

 

The subway becomes a normal thing eventually. He gets used to the smells after a few rides and he definitely is not riding it to catch the blonde guy again (that'd be just a coincidence, he reasons; lots of people ride the subway). It takes a little over a week for that to occur though.

 

They aren't in the same car but Mingyu sees him through the windows in the one behind him, and without thinking, he counts how far it is from the end of the line once he gets off at his stop. On the way home, he makes sure to enter the same one (he’s not crazy, there’s far crazier things he could do) and as fate would have it, the blonde shortly joins the same car as well.

 

To his surprise, he seems to be recognized as well. When their eyes lock, the other smiles weirdly, as if he’s seen something funny. Mingyu worries for a moment that he has some food residue on his face but after a quick swipe, his hands come up clean.

 

The blonde guy sits down directly across from him and just like before, the car is relatively empty.

 

"I'm Mingyu," he speaks automatically, watching the other's eyebrows raise in confusion or amusement or maybe both.

 

"Mingyu?" he echoes back with his adorable accent. Mingyu just nods. "Minghao."

 

"No, Mingyu."

 

"I'm Minghao," he clarifies and Mingyu gets so warm in the face that he wants to throw himself out of the moving subway car. Minghao mutters something he can't understand but his look of annoyance softens quickly into that smirk Mingyu remembers too well.

 

Silence overtakes them and Minghao seems comfortable enough with it but Mingyu is squirming in his seat. He keeps mentally telling himself not to stare, not to ask stupid questions, but doing all of that requires more self control than he possesses. If he is being completely honest with himself, he had been thinking about this guy pretty much nonstop since he had first gotten caught openly gawking at him. When he zoned out on his lunch breaks at work, he wondered what the guy was up to. When he laid in bed just before falling asleep, he'd randomly remember his worn shoes and unfit jacket and wonder where he was off to and what he did for a living.

 

With that thought, he gives Minghao a look over and notes that he is dressed considerably more casual than before. His outer jacket is oversized but that seems to be intentional, and his skinny pants cling to his twig-like legs in a way that makes Mingyu wonder if his forearms are bigger than them.

 

"What do you do?" Minghao's voice catches him off guard and he'd be lying if he said he didn't wonder if he could read minds.

 

"I, um, work in a kitchen."

 

"Like washing dishes or...?"

 

"Sometimes. But I help prep and cook too." If there is ever a time for him to settle his curiosity, now seems to be the perfect moment. "What about you?"

 

"I just... hang out." And then he laughs. The near terrifying blonde in seemingly cool street wear lets out the airiest, sweetest giggle Mingyu is sure he has ever heard. It causes something in his chest to crack and he can't help but smile, his nerves temporarily forgotten. "I dance sometimes but it's not like a permanent thing, so. Trying to find something else," he trails off, the cuteness in his voice evening out into one of apathy.

 

Mingyu himself laughs, understanding now why he had looked so out of place in what he would deem as shabby office wear. It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask a thousand more questions but the announcement of his stop causes him to visibly frown.

 

"I'll see you around, I guess?" Mingyu silently scolds himself for sounding so uninterested but Minghao's face is one of something that reminds him of amusement, so he does't hold it against himself for too long. They share small nods and waves before Mingyu trots off to work.

 

To say he is distracted that day would be an understatement. He isn't the most graceful in the kitchen to begin with but adding to that his wandering thoughts and new habit of losing himself in his head, his day is filled with many more yells of his name and many more disgruntled looks from his superiors (and coworkers). He even manages to slice his finger while prepping some carrots, causing a pile of beautifully cut vegetables to be tossed out (he was mentally smacking himself for not asking for Minghao’s number.)

 

There is a moment when he fears for his job, berating himself for being so caught up in something so stupid (seriously, he was just some random guy that he didn't even know the first thing about), but all his boss does that day is put him on scrubbing duty, alone by himself in the back of the kitchen.

 

It’s just at the end of the dinner rush when Seokmin pops back by him, balancing a stack of dirty dishes. Mingyu had only caught glances of him that night, since he had been banished to the cleaning dungeon.

 

"What did you do to end up stuck back here?" the waiter inquires with a hint of his signature smile. Mingyu shoots him a look that tells him to reign it in before he finds himself dodging plates.

 

Despite the gloves he’s wearing, his fingers still prune and ache from the exposure to constant warm water and thorough scrubbing of hardened food and grime. He’s daydreaming so hard about getting home to shower that he almost misses what his friend had said.

 

"Do you wanna join? There's just a handful of us but it'll be fun. And you could probably use it after a night like tonight."

 

"Sorry, where?"

 

The invitation had been to a club that Seungkwan (one of the hosts at the restaurant; Mingyu rarely ever sees him but hears his voice often enough) occasionally performed open mic nights at.

 

The music is a bit too loud for Mingyu's taste, heavily influenced by hip-hop and songs that he isn't at all familiar with. There’s no singing that night, much to Seungkwan's chagrin, but the group of them manage to enjoy themselves just fine.

 

Mingyu isn't much of a drinker (his mother never drank and there aren’t many bars where he’s from, he explains to his astonished coworkers) and despite the odd taste of the beers Seokmin keeps putting in his hand, he downs them one by one until his limbs feel somehow both heavy and light as air. It gets quite stuffy in the club and Mingyu is helplessly reaching out to tug on one of his coworkers’ arms to join him outside when someone's voice comes over the speaker system announcing that the night's dance contest is about to begin.

 

Dancing had never been something Mingyu had much interest in either (that seems to be the trend tonight) but he couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way all the participants effortlessly bent and twisted and moved about the stage. Seungkwan attempts to imitate the way this one guy from China was able to flip back onto his feet from laying on the ground. Thankfully he doesn't hurt himself much besides tweaking a muscle in his hip and smacking the back of his head lightly against the floor.

 

Mingyu loses count of how many beers he’s consumed and he’s feeling unbelievably sleepy and cozy, his face smushed into the arm of Seokmin as the beat of the music buzzes throughout his entire body. He’s on the verge of miraculously dozing off despite the noise when the announcer says something that catches his ear.

 

"No please welcome to the stage our next performer, Minghao!"

 

Mingyu shoots up so fast, he gets a bit dizzy; but once his center of gravity settles and his eyes are able to focus, his mind registers the familiarity of the boy on stage instantly.

 

He is once again dressed so cooly, his arms bare in his long and oversized tank top and his legs covered in fitted black bottoms. His hair is messy but in a way that look purposely and his expression reads that of concentration and... well, badassry is the word that comes to Mingyu's foggy, inebriated mind.

 

The music picks up again and god, the way Minghao moves has Mingyu slack-jawed and his skin breaking out in goosebumps. It’s as if his body weighed nothing with how he’s able to lift himself off the ground and throw his limbs around with such ease. He flips back and forth (which causes eruptions of cheers from the crowd) and Mingyu notices the hint of a smirk on his face, as if the reaction from everyone watching is fueling him.

 

The performance ends way too soon for Mingyu's liking but that doesn't stop him from haphazardly standing up on his chair to clap and yell out. It starts as a chorus of "woo" and "yeah" but when the initial burst of noise settles, he finds himself screaming out the blonde's name.

 

Seungkwan and Seokmin look up at his curiously (while steadying his legs) and Minghao seems to hear the call himself, squinting against the lights and attempting to locate the origin of the sound. Despite the sloppy waves of Mingyu's arms, he doesn't seem to notice where the voice comes from before he is ushered off the stage. Seokmin pulls on Mingyu's pant leg to get him to sit.

 

"I think it's time we got you home."

 

It’s a struggle to get the lumbering aspiring chef out into the fresh air. He’s sandwiched between his two coworker friends and every time he attempts to turn around in hopes of spotting the guy from the subway, his too long arms smack Seungkwan along the face or elbow Seokmin in the neck.

 

"Will you quit it? Everyone's staring!" Seungkwan hisses but Mingyu can't be asked to care. He just wants to see Minghao, for reasons unknown to his intoxicated self.

 

“Did you see him dance? God. He has the nicest laugh,” he whispers loudly right in Seokmin’s ear. The boy smiles back at him, almost pitifully.

 

He falls asleep in the cab and his two much too kind friends manage to get him into bed with only a few bumps and stumbles. When he wakes up the next morning, the evening is a little bit foggy in his recollection.

 

Memories come back to him slowly over the next few days. He remembers bits and pieces of how Minghao danced and moved and swirled, like a cyclone of blonde hair and toothpick thin limbs. He tries to recreate the dance in his head while riding the subway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the guy who had seemed to infiltrate his state of consciousness consistently. He even thinks about the way he moved at work, pulling inspiration from the movements and translating it into the way he plates dishes he constructs in his free time. His superiors are impressed, which shocks him (if he's being honest). But the combination of praise and thoughts of the dancing Minghao have him radiating more than ever.

 

It's an especially busy evening where Mingyu barely has a moment to breathe, let alone step outside to get some fresh air. But he's diligent and focused tonight and it's paying off, because his coworkers and boss have seemed to notice how well he is working. Minghao isn't even at the forefront of his mind tonight; he's just a faraway figure tucked in the corner of his brain, endlessly flipping and moving so gracefully.

 

That is until Seokmin pops back in the kitchen, sneaking past anyone who might scold him and send him straight back to the floor.

 

"Hey, I think your dancing buddy is here. Did he tell you he was coming?"

 

Mingyu is bright but sometimes so slow-witted about very obvious things. It takes him a moment to realize who and what Seokmin is referencing before that distant twirling and dancing figure in his mind expands and takes over. The heat from the stovetop seems to quickly (and suddenly) rush warmth to his face as he dumbly follows his coworker out to the floor.

 

He barely steps outside the kitchen door, the floor of the restaurant being a bit foreign to him when it's as packed as it is tonight. He catches Seokmin nod in one direction before taking off to greet a new table and Mingyu doesn't know what he expected when he spots Minghao sitting across from a very attractive male who seems to have a gift for making the blonde dancer laugh.

 

He should have known it would be a scenario like that; the majority of the restaurants patrons are those on dates. And Minghao is no one to him, just some guy he happened to bump into more than once and have a few brief interactions with. Still, the image causes his chest to tighten and the radiating dancing image in his mind dims. He spends the rest of the night quietly working, his energy slowed and lowered. It goes unnoticed by his colleagues

 

He doesn't take the subway home that night, opting to walk the long way, even if the air is a bit humid and heavy.

 

It takes months but Mingyu forgets about him eventually (almost).

 

Sometimes he is reminded of him, like when he witnesses two people harshly knock into one another while lining up on an escalator. Or spotting street performers dancing and spinning for spare change and tips. But phone calls to his mother and long nights working in the kitchen are constant reminders as to why he moved to the city in the first place. He came to make his dream a reality and nothing really mattered more than that. Everything else is expendable, he tries to remind himself constantly.

 

He buys a bike and starts riding to and from work every day, leaving behind the crowded and bustling subway.

 

There had been two things Mingyu enjoyed about the city and with one of them all but erased from his life, all his energy and time goes into the other. It pays off in strides, as over the months he gradually slides up the ladder in the kitchen. He is no longer the bottom most rung, getting the opportunity to boss around new interns that look just as scared and overwhelmed as he had felt his first few weeks at work. He tries not to smile when they drop pans or spill sauce.

 

Winter comes fast and it's an exciting time for him because he's helping lead his first catering gig. And Seokmin sets him up on a blind date, which is both terrifying and embarrassing, but it's nice to have something outside work to look forward to for once.  

 

The catering job goes beyond perfect. It's stressful and fast paced but Mingyu thrives under it. He never really considered himself the leading type but it's so natural for him to keep an eye on his team and guide them on what has to be none next. He's walking on air that night, slipping on ice and laughing happily at his own clumsiness. He can't recall ever feeling better.

 

The date is the next evening and that goes alright. The guy's name is Wonwoo and he's extremely handsome and intelligent; the two jive well together but Mingyu feels no special spark or jolt when they are with one another. He feels as if he is out with one of the guys from work. The feeling seems to be mutual so while Seokmin is a bit bummed to hear there won't be a second date, Mingyu thanks him for introducing him to someone he could see becoming a good friend. Those aren’t easy for him to come by these days; all of his time is spent with food or his few coworkers or sleeping. It’s nice having a new face in his life.

 

Wonwoo lands him a new catering gig the weekend before Christmas. He's close with some folks at a dance company that's holding a large holiday party for the entire staff. The thought of mingling with dancers gives Mingyu's stomach some butterflies (he knows why) but it's all pushed to the back of his head as he and his team focus on coming up with a fitting and stunning menu.

 

He asks Wonwoo how he's involved with the dance company (because Wonwoo can't dance at all, as made evident by the nights out drinking the two have shared) and Mingyu is more than surprised to discover that not only is he friends with some of the dancers, Wonwoo is actually smitten with one of them. Mingyu only spends a few hours teasing him about it, with the threat of losing his second leading gig (via losing his life).

 

The execution of the dinner goes smoothly. Mingyu is too focused and busy to interact with Wonwoo much during it, minus a small wave and head nod when he’s brought out to meet the head of the company after all the courses have been served.

 

It’s a rush every time he interacts with anyone who is impressed by his food; he likes looking for how eyes light up and corners of lips twitch into small smiles. Seeing it on the faces of the company head and some of the dancers who take a moment to commend him... it’s almost as good as he felt watching his mother try his food back when all of this was only a pipe dream.

 

He shakes many hands and gives countless bows to the line of people that compliment the meal and thank him and his team. His insides bubble happily and he knows he’s smiling like an idiot, his cheeks probably tinted pink from the constant flattery and feeling that god, finally things are really falling into place. It’s only the sight of one man, his face vaguely familiar, that causes his smile to slightly falter.

 

The ridiculously handsome stranger thanks him and praises the food, emphasizing his approval with waving hand gestures and a pat to his stomach. Mingyu is so caught up trying to recall where he recognizes him from that he doesn’t register specifics. Thankfully he manages to press on a fuller smile and nod his appreciation, shaking the purple-haired man’s hand firmly. His eyes trail him as he steps off to the side and it takes Mingyu a moment to realize someone else is waiting to speak with him.

 

It seems like forever since he’s seen him. He looks somehow different (beyond his once questionable blonde hair now being a warm reddish brown) and older, though not in a negative way. But Mingyu would know him anymore despite their limited interactions and the months that have passed since he’s seen the other’s face.

 

Minghao smirks at him but it’s in a soft sort of way, like he’s fondly looking at a puppy through a pet store window. Mingyu’s pretty sure he’s gawking, eyes unnaturally wide and blinking, but he can’t think of any words thanks to the rumbling in his chest. It had been hibernating for so long that he isn’t sure how to handle its resurgence.

 

He doesn’t even know if Minghao recognizes him, a thought that pummels his stomach.

 

“That’s probably the best meal I’ve had since I moved to Korea.” There’s no bite in his words, no teasing glint in his eyes like Mingyu’s memory is drudging up, flipping through old stored away memories and blowing the dust off them. But god, he’s still really beautiful.

 

“Oh, um. Thank you.”

 

He feels rigid, like the time he was hiking with his mother as a kid and stumbled across a pit viper. Still, frozen, slightly mortified. The snake and Minghao have a few similarities, like making his mind go blank in dire situations.

 

Maybe it is whatever his facial expression is or the fact that he doesn’t really continue the conversation, but something like disappointment flashes across the dancer’s face and he gives a small smile that reads as a sort of farewell before he steps off to the side.

 

The rest of the night seems to slow after that. Mingyu helps his team clean up and gradually pack up all their supplies, he does a bit more mingling and humbly bowing and thanking everyone for their kind words. The initial rush of excitement has died down and now with every trip he makes to their catering van, he finds his eyes wandering around the room in search of Minghao. He feels like he’s taken twenty steps backwards.

 

He catches him a few times. Sipping on a drink at a table full of (presumably) dancers, leaned against the window with his phone to his ear, and the last time, chatting off in the corner with the purple-haired guy Mingyu swears he’s seen somewhere before. He watches as Minghao laughs and he tries to recall the sound it makes. It’s then he remembers, it hits him like a jolt of electricity and his stomach does a funny twist. Those two were together at the restaurant the last time Mingyu saw him.

 

Wonwoo picks an opportune time to slide up beside him.

 

“Oh, don’t tell me,” he sighs, nudging Mingyu harshly with his elbow and pulling his eyes away from the pair of dancers.

 

“What?”

 

“You can’t be into him. I was finally going to ask him out tonight.” Mingyu’s eyebrows draw together and he leans away from his friend.

 

“What? Minghao is the one you’re all googly eyes over?” Wonwoo’s expression transforms from annoyed to insulted to confused and Mingyu prepares himself for a forehead flick. It doesn’t come.

 

“Minghao? How do you know Minghao? I thought you didn’t know anyone here.”

 

“We met before but I don’t think he remembers me.” Mingyu pauses, looking back and forth between his friend and the subject of conversation. “You really are gonna ask him out?” Sure, he doesn’t know Minghao well, if at all really, but he’s having a difficult time imagining he and Wonwoo together. At all.

 

“No, idiot. I was talking about Jun.”

 

“Jun? Is that the guy with purple hair? You wanna date a guy who has purple freaking hair?”

 

“Shut up, it’s just for their show. He’s... pretty great.”

 

“They aren’t like... together?” Mingyu inquires with a nod towards the two across the room, trying to downplay his curiosity. Wonwoo snorts and explains that the two are roommates, best friends, practically brothers. And Mingyu has the urge to run away or call his mom or bang his head repeatedly into the wall.

 

The party’s dying down, some folks having trickled out and all of the dinnerware and food cleared up. Wonwoo finally manages to steal Jun’s attention and the two have been inseparable the rest of the evening. Minghao still mills around, between floating from circle to circle and stepping off to have his own moments, fiddling with his phone.

 

It seems too coincidental for them to meet again like this, for Mingyu’s own stupid assumptions to be cleared up and for his chest to constrict in a painful way that comes rushing back to him all too easily. So despite his concerns and the vivid memories of Minghao’s less than congenial manners on the subway, Mingyu finally builds up enough courage to approach him, awkwardly standing beside his chair at one of the now empty dinner tables.

 

“Yo, what’s up?” Mingyu inwardly cringes and wonders how he has made it this far in the life because he’s never once used the word ‘yo’, not even ironically. Minghao looks up, seemingly taken aback at the sudden company.

 

“Uh, hi?” he responds, confused but not unkindly. Mingyu over his lips and takes a quick breath.

 

“You know, I couldn’t remember at first but um,” okay, that was a blatant lie. Was it best to start off with a lie? “What I mean is we met once before but... I don’t know if you remember or not.” Minghao blinks at him. “Which is totally fine, like, it was a while ago and who remembers everyone they meet? That’d be crazy, like having one of those photographic memories.” He’s babbling and that’s so different because he used to clam up around the other male. But the desire to build some kind of connection with him outweighs any fear of speaking he might possess.

 

Minghao looks down at the phone in his hand and puts the screen to sleep. Mingyu wants to die but his feet are cemented into the ground and he can only let out the breath he’s been holding in when Minghao looks up at him with the smallest of smiles.

 

“I remember. And it was more than once.”

 

“Ah. Yeah, a few times.”

 

“You’re Mingyu.” Mingyu laughs, partially out of embarrassment but more from the pure joy that radiates throughout his body. Minghao lets out a small laugh too and Mingyu thinks it’s like hearing after being deaf your entire life.

 

“And you’re Minghao, now professional dancer?” The other nods and pulls out the chair beside him, motioning for the chef to sit.

 

And he does. And they talk for such a long time, until nearly everyone’s left. They talk about their careers and how they are both far away from home and how stupid Jun and Wonwoo look all coyly trying to touch each other in any way that they can. They talk for so long that the cleaners flick off some of the main lights and they are left sitting in a dimly lit dining hall, all alone.

 

“, I guess that’s our cue,” Minghao sighs, lighting up his phone. It’s nearly 1 in the morning. “And looks like I’ll have to grab a cab since it’s so late.” Mingyu realizes he means he missed the last subway train and he smiles to himself, biting it back so it doesn’t grow too big.

 

“Would you... wanna grab coffee?”

 

“Now?”

 

“Yeah?” Mingyu’s voice sweeps up in a questioning tone and Minghao seems to smirk at it.

 

“Okay, sure. I don’t really want to get home and possibly walk in on Jun and Wonwoo anyway.”

 

He may have work the following day but it’s worth staying out until 5:30 in the morning, talking and laughing and memorizing the way Minghao’s lips move and fingers twitch in the most delicate of ways, like they are dancing themselves. And when they ride the very first subway of the day together, thighs touching and hands not so accidentally brushing, he thanks the stars he took a shot at life in the city.