Lu Han had been gone for two weeks now on vacation with his family to somewhere tropical and no doubt scorching, and Minseok was already feeling the loss of not having his boyfriend by his side constantly. He would be back in approximately a week and two days (Minseok definitely did not have a countdown programmed into his phone) and if Minseok was already feeling lonely, well, he isn’t sure how he’ll fare during the following days if he doesn’t get some sort of contact with Lu Han. He isn’t doing terribly so far, but he isn’t doing well - Minseok’s feelings at this point consist of staring longingly at his phone and conjuring poetic sentences in his mind lamenting over his current state of loss; he then proceeds to file those words and phrases away in some corner of his mind to be untapped later on (or never, really) because he doesn’t want to pester Lu Han. Said boyfriend, on the other hand, has no qualms about sending Minseok message after message describing, in very needy detail, the extent of his longing for Minseok. It’s flattering, honestly, and Minseok more often than not is looking at those exact messages when he’s staring at his phone because Lu Han is cute and sappy and it eases the slight wound he feels in his heart when he remembers that Lu Han isn’t here.

Although he’s feeling worse and worse, and his body is beginning to ache for the familiar and warm touch he’s usually so blessed with, Minseok refrains from complaining about the situation - at great lengths, that is. He, of course, assures Lu Han that he misses him too; Lu Han deserves to hear that much with the sheer amount of attention he’s giving to Minseok, but Minseok struggles with saying anything further not because he doesn’t feel the same way Lu Han does, but because he’s worried it’ll bother his boyfriend. Lu Han’s on vacation in a beautiful island somewhere with his family, whom he rarely interacts with for extended periods of time because each individual is increasingly busy throughout the year, and for Minseok to take any of that joy away from him would eat him up inside. So he keeps his whines to a minimum and exerts the majority of his effort on comforting and reassuring Lu Han, offering up as many sweet nothings as his heart can take. Minseok misses Lu Han in so many different ways, and he sincerely wishes to wax lyrical about the way his heart aches without Lu Han’s warm body surrounding his at night, or how he wakes up to the shrill ring of his alarm clock and cold sheets without the soothing tones of Lu Han’s sleepy whispers to smooth the annoying sound and fill the apartment - and Minseok - with an unimaginable warmth.

He’s seated at his dinner table, textbooks splayed out in front of him, papers coated in cramped writing scattered across the dark wood. Because he doesn’t get along with his family and would, in consequence, be spending this holiday alone and essentially vacationless, Minseok had picked up an extra class - some variation of psychology - and the teacher was harried and a little bit too intense and absolutely brilliant. Minseok had decided after approximately two hours Lu Han-less that he needed something to fill his time, and debunking the thought process of his new teacher seemed like a good enough distraction, especially when added to the homework he would be getting from that class anyway. He plopped himself down at the table only about thirty minutes ago thus his luminescent computer screen is filled only half way with black text. The cursor blinks teasingly at Minseok as he ponders his next sentence; he’s having trouble finding the exact words he wants to use to describe a stage of development in toddlers, and then his phone vibrates against his thigh. Minseok jumps in his chair, startled, and ends up further ruffled by the loud creak that escapes from the rickety furniture. With anxious fingers he plucks his phone from his pocket, squinting at his caller I.D. for only a second before scrambling to swipe his thumb across the screen and accept the call.

“Lu Han?” Minseok almost flinches at how breathless he sounds, but he doesn’t in the end because when Lu Han speaks he gets an equally enthralled sound.

“Minnie!” Lu Han shouts, voice bright and loud in his ear and Minseok is ashamed at how happy he is to hear the melodic twinkle again. “I miss you so much, Minnie.” The pout on Lu Han’s lips is audible, can be heard in the slight lilt at the end of every word, in the gentle whine and elongation of Minseok’s name.

Minseok’s heart flutters and a comfortable warmth seeps into his bones and soothingly washes over the ache in his heart. “I missed you too, Hannie. A lot.” His voice is soft, and his fingers lightly trace circles against the cool wood of the table and the glossy pages of his textbooks. Lu Han coos and Minseok can feel the heat gathering in his cheeks; it doesn’t matter how long he’s been dating Lu Han, he’ll never get completely used to outwardly expressing his affections. Lu Han deserves it though -- Lu Han deserves the world, honestly, and even though Minseok can’t give that to him, he’ll try his damnest to get as close as possible.

After a whispered, “how have you been?”, the two men chat about their past few days apart (Minseok struggles greatly to hold back on listing out every single part of Lu Han that he longs for and instead settles on murmuring over and over that he misses Lu Han; Lu Han shushing him quietly with soft ‘I knows’ and ‘me too, baby’ and Minseok thinks he might burst from the sheer amount of love he holds for the other boy). Lu Han entertains his boyfriend with the Tale of Two Bathrooms, or alternatively, That Time His Brother Managed to Flood Two Bathrooms, his own body tingling with pinpricks of warmth as he listens to Minseok laugh loudly at the rather graphic descriptions of the state their bathrooms were left in. When Minseok says he has nothing of interest to account, Lu Han whines, lets one high-pitched note escape his lips and fill the their conversation until Minseok grudgingly admits that he’s picked up another class. The two of them strategically avoid the topic of Minseok’s family -- after years of dating, Lu Han has becoming privy to when it would be best to discuss such matters -- and spend nearly two hours chattering and giggling and sometimes softly whispering declarations of love that just can’t be done justice over texts.

With an uncomfortably hot phone pressed to the rounded skin of his cheek, Minseok eases out of the dining room chair, intending to shuffle his way into his and Lu Han’s bedroom and charge his phone. The chair squeaks loudly and Minseok rolls his eyes, ruffling his hair and looking at the mess he’s left on the table (the stacks of books and papers resembles a mountain and Minseok decides that his attention would be much better placed on Lu Han right now than on organizing his unnecessary amount of notes). Minseok barely registers that Lu Han has fallen silent as he makes his way down the hall, humming almost inaudibly to himself, until he hears an uncharacteristically timid call of his name sound in his ear. “Hey, Minnie?” Minseok his head, eyebrows furrowing as he hums in acknowledgment and waits for Lu Han to continue.

“Would you…maybe… possibly… be okay with, um…” Lu Han trails off, his voice shy, and Minseok thinks he knows where this is going, but he can’t quite be sure because they’ve definitely had phone before and Lu Han was never this ashamed to ask for it before. Minseok always said yes anyway (not that he always said yes to in general because to expect anyone to say yes all the time is a ridiculously unrealistic and downright unfair assumption; it was more that by the time they resorted to phone the two of them had to be some level of desperate already -- why have phone when they’re both usually physically willing and able).

“Be okay with what, Hannie?”

Minseok’s in the bedroom by this point, door softly clicking shut behind him. Lu Han is silent for a moment longer -- his breathing is the loudest sound coming from the other line -- and then, “could we maybe video chat?”

Air catching in his throat, Minseok freezes, fingers gripping the sturdy material of his phone tightly. He supposes that Lu Han’s hesitation was just, reflects and appreciates the soft tones behind Lu Han’s question -- feels relief that Lu Han is asking and not demanding for him to show himself on camera. Minseok immediately berates himself -- Lu Han would never do that -- but the expectation has been so deeply ingrained into his being that it’s counterintuitive for him to think Lu Han’s ual requests are really a gentle proposal. They’ve talked about their previous relationships in explicit detail, and although it took a considerable measure of time and a veritable canyon of trust, both of them spilled their hearts and guts and bones, laying their insides out for the other to see completely, and Minseok feels better for it, he does, but this is a big question.

Lu Han is nothing if not perceptive, and he senses Minseok’s hesitation, his borderline panic -- in fact, he’d probably expected it, and he immediately begins to speak once more, letting his voice wrap around Minseok and keep him reassuredly grounded. “You can say no, Minnie; I’m asking you if that would be something you want too. I want to see you, yes, but if you aren’t ready, if this isn’t something you can handle, then we won’t do it.”

Before Minseok realizes what he’s doing, he’s nodding, heart sinking back at a snail’s pace to his chest cavity from his throat, breath expanding his lungs once more and vivid memories quieted slightly. He speaks, voice hazy, a simple “okay Hannie” expanding to fill his otherwise empty room, and Lu Han waits. Lu Han is so good, too good for Minseok, really (or so he thinks, anyway; Lu Han knows that they’re perfectly disproportional and they more than deserve the love they hold for each other. They work together to make Minseok feel less guilty about everything Lu Han does for him, and for Lu Han to work on expressing his anger in ways other than holes in their drywall and furious, stinging tears and screams pressed to the velvet of Minseok’s shoulder). Minseok jerks, recognizes that he’s been standing in one spot on aching feet for far too long, and sits down with a heavy sigh and a contemplative mind.

Minseok thinks and Lu Han hums into his ear, making the intelligible noises that he does when he’s working to be patient, and Minseok smiles gently at the soft sounds. Lu Han never has any idea that he’s making them, just like Minseok doesn’t notice when the tip of his tongue peeks out from between his pink lips while he works. Neither of them point out these habits, choosing instead to savor them, to keep them locked away in the vaults of their beings for when they need to be filled with warmth, or possibly when the man in question needs to feel that same gentle glow. “Alright,” Minseok says, mind made up because this is Lu Han and Lu Han said he would stop when Minseok says stop and Minseok trusts him with his life. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Lu Han contained his excitement, let it show only in the slightly higher-pitched tone and the slight break of certain words. Minseok guesses that Lu Han has been waiting for this for a while (he has), and he thanks Lu Han quietly while he collects his laptop for asking and waiting and letting Minseok figure it out and for loving him.

“I love you too, Minnie.” Lu Han answers, voice sweet, matching his soft, honey-colored strands of hair that Minseok wishes, needs, to tangle his fingers in. He wants Lu Han to be here, to be sitting where his laptop is quietly whirring to life, wishes he could crawl into his boyfriend’s lap and wrap himself around the sturdy frame. He wants to press against Lu Han, nuzzle his nose into soft cheeks and the equally soft dip between neck and shoulder, wants to feel strong arms and a stronger heart beat against him (he also aches to taste Lu Han, to be able to press his palms to Lu Han’s ribs and feel his whimpers and moans, to be able to satisfy Lu Han and pleasure him and revel in the lovely sensitivity born from delicate touches and teasing kisses).

The laptop sits innocently on Minseok’s bed as he bends forward to log in, Lu Han still on the phone with him but silent once more. They don’t need to speak, in fact sometimes they simply work while on the phone with each other, listening to the faint noises of activity on the other line. Minseok takes comfort in this easy familiarity, lets it reassure him -- tell him that everything is going to be okay.

“You good, Minnie? Say the word and we’ll stop.” Lu Han sounds like he needs the same amount of reassuring that Minseok feels he needs himself, and Minseok smiles slightly, shaking his head as he pulls up Skype.

“Yes, Hannie,” Minseok answers. “I’m fine. And I will. I promise.”

They exchanged Skypes on their first date, Minseok stuttering out his name with sweaty palms, Lu Han accepting it with flushed cheeks. After one call and an intense panic attack and many apologies, the two hadn’t really ventured into the subject again. The hadn’t needed to because they hadn’t been separated for more than a few days, but now Minseok feels physically weak for a simple glance of Lu Han’s smiling face, smiling at him, and he decides his issue with video chatting and cameras and everything of the like can go itself. He logs in, checks to see if Lu Han is logged on -- he is -- and takes a deep, embarrassingly wet breath. “Could you call me, Hannie?” He speaks into the phone, voice trembling slightly, and Lu Han’s ‘okay’ is so gentle that Minseok feels like sobbing.

He does end up sobbing when he accepts Lu Han’s call, and suddenly there he is, taking up all of Minseok’s screen and smiling at him like he’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. “Oh no, Minnie, baby, it’s okay.” Minseok shakes his head, choking on his tears, wiping at his eyes with a closed fist and in shaky breaths. Lu Han coos softly on the screen and Minseok hears him shifting around on the bed but he doesn’t open his eyes, refuses to look at how pathetic he seems. The tears aren’t bad tears; he misses Lu Han more than he could ever say and he hadn’t seen Lu Han, watched his pink lips flutter around sounds, been able to watch the way a smile slowly overtakes his entire face in so long that it’s just too much.

“Baby,” Lu Han speaks, his own soothing voice wavering softly as Minseok hiccups on their bed and furiously rubs at his eyes like a small child. “baby look at me. Minnie look I’m right here. I’m right here baby it’s okay.” Minseok’s body lifts up and rocks down in a series of hiccups and he removes his hands, wiping at the streaks sparkling against his cheeks and sniffling. When he raises his eyes, his heart clenches and the tears begin anew because Lu Han is crying too, delicately, nose flushed and lips fluttering where they’re pulled into a syrupy smile. “I missed seeing you s-so bad, baby.” Minseok nods, feeling his tears spill over the lower lids of his eyes, uncaring for how ugly he probably looks. Lu Han’s voice breaks, shutters, and he bites his lip to stop from sobbing himself because they’d probably look completely ridiculous, both of them covered in salty trails, snot, and smiling widely the whole while (Minseok hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling).

“Missed you too, Hannie -- miss you. Wanna be with you so bad.” Minseok can’t find it in himself to speak loudly, knowing Lu Han won’t yell at him for speaking quietly. The sheets are cool under his fingers, and he twists the fabric around his appendages, tangling them in the expensive fabric in a crude imitation of playing with Lu Han’s hair. Lu Han’s eyes are wide and wet, cheeks and nose red and wet, but he’s smiling so widely that there’s no room to look at anything else, hand reaching up to gently caress the screen of his own laptop. He chuckles when Minseok blushes and shifts around, sniffling lightly and tugging the edge of the shirt he’s wearing over his closed fist to smoosh against his cheeks and hope it absorbs the stinging liquid.

“Minnie,” Lu Han starts off slowly, only continuing when Minseok makes a small noise and looks at him. “are you wearing my shirt?”

Instantly Minseok’s cheeks are blooming a deep shade of red, the skin hot, but he just scratches the side of his nose and shrugs, in no place to deny it. Lu Han laughs, the sound light in the previously heavy atmosphere of the room, and Minseok feels tension he hadn’t noticed was there melting off of his shoulders. He plays with his fingers, curling his toes in their botanical sheets, and watches Lu Han with a gummy smile and an all-encompassing warmth flowing in his veins. “I wanted to feel like you were here. It smells like you.” To prove this, Minseok buries his nose in the collar of the shirt, inhaling deeply. Lu Han’s heart stutters and he wishes fiercely that he was there so he could wrap Minseok up in his arms, press kisses to the top of his head and his cheeks and his nose and the corners of his lips that curl up ever so slightly.

“I love you.” Lu Han breathes out, eyes still wet and vision slightly blurry as he watches Minseok smile softly at him, one corner of his mouth endearingly higher than the other and delicate fingers tracing his slightly pixelated outline on the screen.

Minseok wishes that his fingertips could follow the soft line of his boyfriend’s jaw, dance and trip over every little bump and dip on his skin, but this is okay for right now. He admires the slightly fluffier-than-normal quality Lu Han’s hair is sporting now, and feels such adoration for the patient, beautiful man in front of him that it’s breath-taking.

“I love you too, Hannie.”

(They fall asleep listening to each other breathe and both wake up to the shrill scream of Minseok's alarm in the morning. Lu Han replacing the obnoxious noise with husky whispers and ridiculous kissy noises.)