It was Wednesday again and the stars are bright and alive, shimmering against purple darkness, and yet for some reason Minho thought Taemin was much brighter. And they’re holding hands now, they’re kissing now, chaste little pecks of unexperienced lips and Minho feels incredibly giddy and horribly embarrassed.

But really that’s okay, because Taemin’s blush still hasn’t died down and if anything they’re just a pair of little dorks, a pair of little nothings, a little dot in a vastness of the world. They are nothing as they sit next to each other, gazing at the endless constellations, everything becoming a blur as teenage lust and wandering hands mush together with the cool night air. They are nothing, living in a nameless suburban area, south of the middle of nowhere, staring at the night sky and talking about the universe as a whole as if they know everything and of mortality as if it were an indulgence.

They are absolutely nothing, in the long and seemingly never ending timeline of the world, of the galaxy and of neighboring ones, they are nothing, soon the pair will be dead, buried under the ground or burnt into thin ashes, scattered somewhere lost, and soon the world will come to end and there will be no trace, they will leave behind nothing.

And because of that, they are everything.

Because everything will end someday, though not today (maybe today Taemin says, but he really hopes not because Minho’s mouth is doing something to his neck and he really can’t think, can’t fathom anything else except Minho.) and because of the not-so-nearing end, everything is precious isn’t it? The stars they see in the night sky will one day die and become dust particles, floating through the air, and one day no one will remember their names, who they were. One day, the moments they spent together, laughing and crying, kissing and fighting, one day they’ll both die and nothing will be left behind. No one to remember the boy with stars down his back, or the boy who blows fire and soars high above the clouds.

And because the fact that they will end, makes everything so special, makes everything worth it in a way, doesn’t it?

But Minho likes to think that there’s something after this life, this expanding eternity where they can finally be happy forever and it’ll be so incredibly perfect for the rest of time. So really they’re nothing, they’ll forever be nothing. But there’s a thing to being nothing, no worries, no responsibilities, they are nothing and therefore they can be anything, anything. They can be together, living and breathing in somewhere they don’t quite know, but they’ll be holding hands so it’ll be alright.

“But aren’t you happy now?” Taemin asks, voice sounding almost innocent as the black holes swallow him up, threatening to end everything.

“Yeah.” Minho replies after a few beats of silence, kissing the top of Taemin’s head.

“So that’s all you need, right? Just happiness-that’s it, this is it-happiness. Happiness is us, in way-right?” Taemin says, looking at Minho’s neck through half lidded eyes, lips parted the slightest, begging to be cherished.

And so Minho tilts his head down, kissing Taemin slower this time, lazily and almost heatedly, hands grabbing clothes, nails raking on skin. And when Minho drapes their blanket over them, and Taemin laughs right into Minho’s chest, all of the sudden it’s enough.

All of the sudden they are everything again.

--

Minho has always loved receiving mail, the mere idea of someone living miles and miles away from him, sending him something, thinking about him, knowing who he is and taking the time to actually give him something, well, it blows his mind. He doesn’t receive mail quite often though; he could count the number of times his name has been on an envelope with just his left hand.

He supposes this is different though. It isn’t necessarily a heartfelt letter, littered with splashes of red ink and almost cryptic writing, no. This is an acceptance letter typed out on one of those fancy shmancy typewriters from someone Minho has never met.

And it fills him up with this shimmering brand of excitement and hope because it’s an acceptance letter to a university far away from here, in a city, with those tall skyscrapers and bumbling people moving around with their life. And he could only think about how he couldn’t wait to tell Taemin, how he couldn’t wait to whisk him out of here. Driving away to a place where they could both restart and they could finally grow up to be gigantic trees, with branches caressing the tiny light bulbs that flickered at night.

So he hides the letter carefully to make sure his father doesn’t rip it up in some bout of drunken rage, and he runs.

He runs and runs, legs burning almost delightfully as he runs across their small town, looking through all the crevices in hopes of finding Taemin. The sky is a wonderful blue and the clouds are puffy and ivory and Minho stops in his tracks for a while, because wow, the sky is always so beautiful and he feels a pang of jealousy because he realizes that the clouds see everything, they can be anywhere, they’re forever in this moving motion, drifting lazily across the sky sea.

When Minho finds Taemin he’s quite disappointed, the beautiful boy is looking up at the sky too, but his eyes are red and smoke is billowing out from his mouth.

Taemin giggles when he sees Minho, blowing smoke in his direction and slurring his name until it becomes nothing but an unrecognizable mix of letters. And he’s laughing but it doesn’t sound right, it sounds forced and almost unhappy, and he kicks his legs up in protest when Minho carries him up on his back, whining loudly and sighing dramatically.

Minho dumps him on the floor when the houses are no more and there are only trees and birds, and of course, dying flowers with discolored petals.

And Taemin’s still smiling, but Minho doesn’t know how to be mad anymore because there’s this harsh purple streaked across Taemin’s cheek, and a faded red along Taemin’s arms.

“Minho, I love you.” Taemin sings drunkenly, rolling around on the grass, laughing when he knocks his head against Minho’s lap.

“Minho-Minho I love you.” Taemin says again, eyes still red, mouth dry and knees scraped and he’s saying it almost desperately.

“Minho. Minho, you love me too?” And now Taemin’s crying, shaking Minho’s shoulders roughly as if it will give him the answers he craves.

Taemin’s choking on Minho’s name, and Minho stares at the dying patch of grass before him. And he’s taking them, the hits Taemin’s delivering to his back, they’re small and weak, nothing like the ones his mother had to endure. And Taemin’s begging to be loved, begging for Minho to stop being such a coward, but his words are failing him because his mind is in a haze and Minho is all blurry and everything feels like a bad dream, like a nightmare.

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t hurt me like this.” Minho says, standing up and letting Taemin scramble down to the floor, backing away from Minho like he’s done something horrible, like Minho was made out of fire and suddenly he’s too close.

And Taemin burns himself up, until he’s nothing but ashes, tired and asleep and Minho’s completely numb and this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Minho holds the passed out Taemin in his arms and he thinks bitterly that this isn’t happiness this is suffering, and he wonders if this is love, if love is this swinging back and forth between complete bliss and horrible misery. He still doesn’t know what love is, or what this is. Minho’s still learning, trying to understand, trying to make sense of something completely abstract.

But Minho thinks that even after all this pain; he still would like to love Taemin, if Taemin would still let him.

Just then Taemin shifts in his arms, and mumbles something that sounds a lot like Minho’s name, and there’s this feeling in his stomach that he can’t quite describe, and Minho wonders if it means something.

--

thanks for giving this a read guys, much lovelovelove <3 

also big thanks tooooo miss-v1ng who was partially the reason why I got off my lazy and finished typing up this chappie~