‘I heard the park date went well’ Wonwoo texts him at an ungodly hour. Mingyu sits up slightly to glance at his alarm clock that reads 1:34 in red over on his nightstand.

          He leaves the older male on read. off with his late-night texts. Mingyu doesn’t have time for them. He has a whole bunch of nothing to do tomorrow and he needs to be well rested for it. Overall, he’s a little surprised that Minghao didn’t bring up two things: the talk he had with Seungcheol and the apparent prodding at work from Soonyoung.

          1:35, ‘Soonyoung hasn’t stopped talking since he got back from Minghao’s apartment. If I can’t sleep, you can’t sleep either.’ Mingyu connects the dots. He can at least do that much now; it takes a certain amount of time to understand Wonwoo Jeon. Wonwoo won’t let him sleep because Soonyoung won’t let him sleep. It’s something Minghao said that’s keeping Soonyoung up and whatever that was is probably Mingyu’s fault, but why was Soonyoung over at Minghao’s apartment?

          1:37, ‘Seriously? The coat.’ He wonders, to a point, how much Minghao tells Soonyoung about their dinners. It seems like Wonwoo already knows most of what happens before Mingyu even has a chance to open up about it at work and, honestly, he’s not sure how he feels about the breach in privacy. He’s not even sure if Minghao’s saying nice things about him. ‘How did seeing Minghao in a boyfriend-jacket feel?’

          Mingyu holds the lock on his phone until he can turn it off. Screw Wonwoo’s petty texts, he’s going to be left on read until the end of time and Mingyu’s going to get some sleep, but before the phone shuts off, he sees that there’s a message left unread amongst other texts. He must’ve not heard the notification earlier that night.

          22:07, ‘Thanks for walking me, Mingyu!’ and attached is a picture of Cacahuate with Minghao wrapping a towel around him. He’s puffy from just having taken a bath and Minghao’s shirt is clinging to his chest. Mingyu debates saving the selfie for all eternity. Not wanting to leave Minghao on read when he wakes up in the morning, Mingyu debates a witty response. Then again, it’s almost 2am. He settles for the middle-ground and saves the picture as Minghao’s contact photo, making sure to crop him out of it and keeping Cacahuate front and center as the main subject of focus. Yes. The dog and not his owner. He may have also changed Minghao’s contact name to ‘Cacahuate’s Dad’. It’s okay. Minghao will never see it.

          Phone off and forgotten, Mingyu faces his ceiling wide awake. It’s a shame, really. Ten years ago, Mingyu probably wouldn’t be this shy. He would have dropped all his thoughts on the table, sorted through them overnight, and addressed them the next day. He was straightforward and that’s how he easily ended a handful of relationships. The second something felt wrong or right, he would act upon it, but Minghao is—for lack of better word—different.

          There’s nothing that makes him particularly special compared to anyone else that Mingyu’s seen in a romantic light. Each short-lived relationship was special in its own right. Each person was different and carries a unique identity in Mingyu’s memory. Minghao’s average. He’s of average build, average height, and amongst the individuals that have ever caught Mingyu’s eye, Minghao is of average charisma. At the end of high school and in university, Mingyu had briefly dated. That’s the only pool of data he has. Gender spectrum aside, Mingyu’s dated both men and women that were both closer to an ideal than Minghao could ever be. He’s dated people who were set to be lawyers, doctors, perfect spouses, and business aficionados. He’s never mentioned a single one to his parents and they respect his privacy and his right to like whoever he wants, but it isn’t any pressure from them that’s keeping him from bringing anyone home. It’s just that it never felt right. Bringing someone home was ingrained in his mind as something you only did if you were serious and Mingyu had never felt enough balance to feel serious.

          Yeah, Minghao’s not serious.

          His heart has fluttered before. He’s not wanted to catch feelings before. He’s gone out on dinner dates before. His coat has looked nice on other people before. He’s broken hearts and has had his heart broken, but he supposes what’s different between Minghao and all the others is that this one person has a lasting effect.

          Mingyu’s only serious about getting on positive terms with him. Nothing more than platonic positivity and even that felt like he was pushing his luck. If he stood the high school version of Minghao in front of his parents, they wouldn’t hate him, but they’d probably ask Mingyu to think hard about it. High school Minghao had subpar grades, did extracurricular in an area that wasn’t MESA or business based, and didn’t have a great track record with the school’s disciplinary system. It wasn’t his fault, but some things can’t easily be overlooked especially when you’re lumped together with other troublemakers just because of how you look. Compared to straight-A, varsity starting lineup, suave and well-spoken Mingyu, Minghao dulled even in the spotlight. They just weren’t compatible. Yeah, Minghao’s not serious. But Mingyu’s changed as a person and he’s also, very recently, understood the change in his position.

          Their roles feel reversed.

          Minghao’s getting infinitely cooler and after being with him- being near him, learning about him, Mingyu realizes that Minghao was never far behind in the race to be the best of the best. In fact, sometimes he was ahead. Minghao had many more troubles on his plate, stuff that Mingyu doesn’t even know much about, but he still stood his ground and worked hard. Mingyu wasn’t valedictorian, but he was close and that position was handed to him on a silver platter. His family had started stabilizing their income senior year, he had a social position in school that offered him free homework answers and test hints, and he could walk home without looking over his shoulder.

          The Mingyu in high school pitied Minghao. The Mingyu now looks up to him. The Mingyu of the future feels like he can’t keep up with the breakneck pace.

          There’s no cooldown period with Minghao.

          He catches Mingyu off-guard and unaware. Small things amount to big things that weigh on his mind; from the way he laughs to the moments his eyes are wide and curious. The butterflies in his stomach are drowning in a thick fog, wings laminated by November’s air. They want to take flight, but he forces them to stay grounded and he doesn’t know why.

          What’s so bad about catching feelings for Minghao?

          And at the same time, why does he want Minghao to be mad at him so badly?

          Maybe it says more about Mingyu than he expects. Maybe he just wants to mean something to Minghao; something significant like he thought he did these last ten years. But now, Mingyu is the one who doesn’t have a lasting effect.

          He’s heard stories of boys that couldn’t date for years because Mingyu was still on their minds and girls that thought of Mingyu when they held their new significant others. Most of his short-term relationships ended on good notes and all his exes still said nice things about him. It’s not hard with someone like him. Mingyu is warm. Mingyu is possessive and gregarious. He’s flirty and fun. And with Minghao he’s little more than a blubbering mess.

          Mingyu is a man of habit; a man of stability.

          Maybe that’s what’s different now.

          It’s not that Minghao is incredibly different, but his effect on Mingyu is. He’s forcing Mingyu to change involuntarily. Yes, when it comes to Minghao, Mingyu’s changing at a great speed. He’s stopped cooking every night. He’s started making friends again. He’s stopped styling his hair on select days to fish for compliments from the elderly. He’s started dwelling in the past. He’s stopped cleaning his apartment at every opportunity and started spending that time doing things that he likes doing like going out for walks or baking or learning. He’s stopped putting his jackets in the coat closet the second he comes back since that maroon coat is sitting folded up on the bar where Minghao usually sits.

          Minghao’s made Mingyu question his career, his endgame, and his happiness and that’s absolutely terrifying. How can one, little person have such a life-ruining effect, but he guesses that if anyone were to ruin his life, Minghao would be the choice candidate—in his book, at least.

          He’s exhausted.

          There’s something here having to do with the joke about running through someone’s mind, but Mingyu’s the one running circles through his own thoughts, cycling through events and people and regret. A lot of regret. The last thing he wants to run through is high school, but he can’t help that scenes start spinning on relentless reels as he closes his eyes to go back to sleep.

          If his dreams tell him anything that night, it’s that he’s pathetic and useless.

          No amount of effort can help him stop the bullies and change the events that occurred ten years ago. While everything feels real in the dreamscape of high school, standing there with his Jansport backpack and Adidas that he can’t afford, he knows that it’s a dream. He’s there watching Minghao get the hood of his blue jacket grabbed and slammed into a chain-link fence. He hears the scuffle of worn shoes on the pavement and a slew of curses grunted through the air. Minghao was strong back then, too, he can fight back, but he even gives the group of four a run for their money. Mingyu calls out for him, but the words aren’t heard. Mingyu scrambles to get closer, but they keep fading further back. It’s like the stretch of sidewalk outside the school is an infinite conveyor belt. The crows flying overhead fold their wings and drop down like large drops of rain, covering everything in black; like oil. It catches fire when Mingyu reaches forward.

          When he struggles again, flailing to move or to make a noise; anything. Minghao and the group of drama kids pay him no attention. It’s not like Mingyu was ever a witness to the fights. He would see Minghao before and after, but not immediately. He knew they happened, everyone did. It was usually after school or during lunch. Minghao would get called out during passing period when he’d walk to class alone, and he’d usually voluntarily go to fight. On the times that he didn’t, the fights were brought to him. Looking back on it, Minghao was foolish. That boyish pride in him hasn’t changed. He endures pain silently and in solitary just like any emo dreamboat. He doesn’t tell his friends and even having him admit to it still has to be beaten out of him.

          Mingyu regrets everything about everything encompassing Minghao in high school. As his experience with him builds and he becomes fonder of the dancer, it feels like the regret builds as well. He had ten years to apologize. He had ten years to make it up to Minghao. It’s not like he hasn’t tracked down someone from high school before. Facebook exists. LinkedIn exists. If he had bothered, he could have clicked through a few Instagram profiles and found Minghao’s. Mingyu feels like crying. He feels overwhelmed. It’s not anything in particular. It’s just one of those dreams that you feel more than you see and he’s already seeing a lot.

          Wonwoo stands next to him. A cold stare tracing the features of Mingyu’s face. He shakes his head at the scene, but doesn’t say anything. He’s holding his mug of coffee, taking a sip when the first punch is swung and walks past the group when Minghao knocks one of them to the ground. He’s walking down the path to Minghao’s neighborhood and rounds a corner out of sight. 

          Mingyu isn’t lucid, but he can damn well try to save dream-Minghao from a few punches. He can try to stop himself from calling the dance captain out in the cafeteria that fateful Friday. Maybe Wonwoo showing up for the first time means that this dream is different. It has to be different. Maybe this time, Mingyu has a fighting chance. But like always, he’s stuck. His feet are glued to the ground and clear walls hold him back. His words are caught in his throat and he can only fall silent. It’s no different from a decade ago.

          Mingyu isn’t afforded an in-dream shock to wake him up. He just spends the night restlessly fighting his inner demons.