Minseok is woken up with none of the general bluster that usually comes with a packed schedule and a long day ahead, instead returning to the land of the living with a gentle hand carding itself through his mussed hair and a familiar voice murmuring his name.

He strains to open his eyes as a warm body that fits too easily against his shifts slightly, and then strains to keep them open because the sunlight filtering in through the window is too bright and his eyelids are too heavy. The first thing he sees is an expanse of milky white collarbone, and his sleep-addled mind tries to find an explanation for it that doesn’t really come to fruition until he raises his eyes to find first the apologetic upturn of pretty pink lips and then finally warm brown irises staring back at him.

“Sorry, hyung,” Yixing says in way of greeting, his hand pausing atop Minseok’s head before steadily resuming its former petting. It makes Minseok’s body feel heavy with the renewed urge to sleep, but he doesn’t tell Yixing to stop. It feels nice. “Junmyeon said that we’re leaving soon, and I thought you’d want to eat something.”

Minseok is too tired to be hungry, so he just lets out an incoherent, noncommittal mumble before wrapping an arm around Yixing’s waist and moving his head from the softness of his pillow to the jutting plane of Yixing’s shoulder. He lets his eyes fall back shut - the relief that comes with the action is astronomical, really - but doesn’t fall back asleep.

“I didn’t hear you come in last night,” he mutters into Yixing’s neck, giving his waist a light squeeze when Yixing’s hand pauses again. “Did you sleep in here?”

Normally he would notice. Normally Minseok’s a light sleeper, quick to wake up at the smallest noise and even quicker to notice if one of his bandmates crawls into his bed. But going weeks without more than roughly three hours of sleep per day is enough to exhaust anyone, and Minseok’s getting old. Too old for the life of an idol, he finds himself sometimes thinking.

“Feeling homesick,” Yixing offers in way of an explanation, and Minseok allows a bemused smile against his skin because that’s what Yixing always says, but he only ever shares Minseok’s bed whenever he gets back from China. Minseok doesn’t ask to understand, but he still wishes he did.

“Glad to be of service, then,” he says, smiling lazily when Yixing ruffles his hair in retaliation.

Minseok is pretty sure he could stay like this forever, wrapped around Yixing like a warm blanket, listening to the steady thump-thump-thump of Yixing’s heart and his even breathing, and he could fall asleep in a state of perpetual contentment and just never wake up. But it’s not meant to be, his thoughts only just beginning to turn hazy and distorted before there’s a loud pounding on his bedroom door and Sehun is calling out “Half hour ‘till first broadcast, hyungs! Stop being lazy and get out here!” through the thin wood.

Minseok whimpers in protest - 'the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry', as Yifan used to quote - and then whimpers again when the pads of Yixing’s fingers leave his scalp to instead wrap around around the back of his neck, squeezing lightly in an attempted act of comfort.

He finally sits up, rubbing the lingering sleep from his eyes and feeling the bed bounce slightly as Yixing joins him. “I’m glad you’re back,” he says, Not Thinking at all of the last three days when Yixing was gone - when Minseok had felt a continuous, gut-wrenching loneliness that none of the others could ever truly cure - as his hands fall back onto his lap.

Yixing’s answering smile is bright, vibrant, radiant in stark contrast to the bruised skin beneath his eyes as he says “Me too, hyung.”

Minseok pats him on the knee and hopes that things will get better.







Minseok wakes up to a quiet knock on the door - three times in quick succession - right before the knob turns and Jongdae pokes his head in. 

There’s only a second's difference but it’s enough for Minseok to take stock of where he is - in bed, back in the dorms - and that there’s a familiar warm body pressed against his back and steady, even breaths flitting against the bare skin between his shoulder blades. He raises his head as Jongdae’s eyes flicker between the two bedmates before focusing solely on Minseok. The whites of his eyes are stained red and his skin is paler than usual, and greasy, but he’s fully dressed and his permed hair is already presentable for the public.

“Did you sleep last night?” Minseok asks, voice rough, scratchy. He clears the lingering sleep from his throat and tries to sit up, but Yixing’s hold on him is solid so Minseok makes due with straining his neck to peer at Jongdae instead.

“Nope,” Jongdae answers briskly, opening the door a little wider and leaning casually against the wooden frame. “Was busy writing with Chanyeol. Yixing-hyung came in around two and tried to stay with us but we convinced him to go to bed. Guess he chose yours,” he adds, quirking an eyebrow and smirking suggestively.

Minseok wants to berate him for staying up all night, and at the same time thank him for making Yixing go to bed, and also tell him not to get the wrong idea, to explain that it’s not like that, that Yixing just gets homesick so Jongdae can just stop with that face, thankyouverymuch.

He settles on staying silent and nodding a bit. 

“We’ve gotta go soon, hyung,” Jongdae continues, seemingly unbothered. “Chanyeol made coffee and breakfast, so don’t wait too long.” He walks away but leaves the door slightly ajar, and Minseok hears him going to wake up everyone else.

Minseok sighs and turns his head to look at Yixing, ignoring how the muscles in his neck protest at the awkward angle.

Yixing looks beautiful when he’s asleep. When his face is unmarred by the daily concerns of consciousness, when there’s no small crease between his eyebrows that holds all of the worries and pain that he never says aloud. His lips are parted, chapped and cracked, showing a flash of white teeth and pink tongue. His lashes, long and dark, are fluttering against the bruised skin beneath his eyes, emphasizing slowly hollowing cheekbones and skin that seems to get more and more pale every time Minseok sees him.

He’s still beautiful, and Minseok takes a moment to simply stare at him, all the while Not Thinking about Jongdae’s unvoiced suggestions, or how much he sometimes finds himself wishing they were fact. Why bother wasting time dwelling on impossibilities when there’s barely enough time in the day as it is?

Minseok sighs softly and begins the long process of carefully removing Yixing’s arm from around his middle so that he can sit up and turn without jostling the sleeping man too much. For a long moment Yixing clings, arm clenching around Minseok so hard and expression scrunching up in an adorable pout that has Minseok’s heart lurching somewhere in the vicinity of his throat, but eventually Yixing relents, arm muscles relaxing, and Minseok half-heartedly finishes the job.

“C’mon, didi,” Minseok murmurs, brushing the slightly damp strands of silky brown hair that cling to Yixing’s forehead away from his face before cupping Yixing’s jaw and running a soothing thumb over his cheekbone. “Time to get up and greet the day.”

He watches, entranced as Yixing’s nose scrunches up, as his lips tighten and one sleep-encrusted eye squints open. “Han-ge?” He croaks, followed by something in Mandarin that’s too quiet and too jumbled for Minseok to be able to translate. 

Minseok doesn’t respond, silently reeling in shock, gut twisting and churning as he realizes what he said and how Yixing responded. It’s not like they avoid the subject - not at all - but it’s far too early in the morning to be reminded of the days when Yixing wasn’t quite so pale and thin and Minseok didn’t feel quite so old and worn. And there’s a small part of Minseok, the part that hopes so desperately for impossibilities, that feels sick at the thought of Yixing mistaking him for anyone but himself.

“Sorry, just me,” Minseok answers, and if he sounds a little strained than Yixing either doesn’t notice or else decides not to comment.

“Oh well,” Yixing huffs, eyes blinking open and a teasing smile on his lips, “maybe next time.”

Minseok shoves him, not hard enough to push him off the bed but hard enough to let him know that he doesn’t appreciate the joke even if he forces himself to smile back, and Yixing responds by shifting until his cheek is pressed against Minseok’s thigh and his arms are wrapped loosely around Minseok’s calf.

“Sorry for stealing your bed again,” Yixing says as Minseok begins to run his fingers through Yixing’s hair absently. “Was just feeling homesick.” He lets go of Minseok’s leg to grab for his hand instead, threading their fingers together.

Minseok looks down at him with a bemused smile, vaguely remembering waking up just long enough during the night for someone to crawl under his covers and begin clinging to him unapologetically. He’d slept better when he knew Yixing was there, even if he still doesn’t quite understand why Yixing needs him at all.

“S’okay,” Minseok promises, squeezing Yixing’s fingers in his before adding “We need to start getting ready to go. Chanyeol made coffee and food.”

Yixing doesn't really ever complain, but Minseok sees the way his eyes dim slightly at the thought of moving, and the smile he sends Minseok is a little less radiant the usual. Worry niggles in the back of Minseok’s head, but he quickly shoves it away.

Yixing promised. 

“I hope there’s muffins.”

There isn’t, and the disappointment lasts all day.







Minseok looks out through the heavily-tinted window, dimmed street lights racing past as the van makes its way from Incheon Airport to the SME studio so that they can practice for an upcoming concert.

A well-known trot song is playing on the radio. Baekhyun is in the passenger seat singing along under his breath, and when Minseok remembers he hums along, even though he can’t remember the song’s name. It’s one of his mom’s favorites, but Baekhyun sings it better.

Yixing is beside him - half on top of him - sleeping soundly despite the fact that their manager seems to be trying to hit every uneven bump in the road. Yixing’s head is heavy on his shoulder, face pressed into the thin cloth of his shirt and hair tickling the skin of Minseok’s neck and jaw, both hands clutching Minseok’s forearm like a security blanket and a knee flung haphazardly between Minseok’s thighs. 

Minseok keeps his gaze strictly on the tinted window because he knows that if he looks at Yixing for too long than the other two passengers will be able to read every incriminating emotion displayed on his face, and Minseok prefers to keep his secrets away from curious eyes.

“Sing along, hyung!” Minseok glances at Baekhyun to see him staring at their distracted, driving manager. He’s pouting like Hyunkyun is denying him his life’s greatest wish, and it makes Minseok smile. “C’mon, your voice is so nice, you could almost be an idol!”

“Almost?” Hyunkyun asks, sounding similarly amused and equally offended, and Minseok meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, watching as they crinkle up, wrinkles appearing in the creases of his eyes. 

“If only you were a little prettier.” Baekhyun heaves a long-suffering sigh, and Minseok snorts despite himself. “You could always try plastic surgery.”

“Yeah,” Minseok agrees, grinning. “You could join Exo - we’ve got a couple of open spots and it’d be nice not to be the oldest anymore.”

“Your Mandarin could use some work though.”

Minseok flinches in surprise at the sound of Yixing’s voice and looks down to see Yixing’s eyes are open and unclouded with the fatigue he’d been showing when they first picked him up from the airport. He reaches over and pats Yixing’s wrist in greeting, and Yixing responds by sending him a conspiratorial wink. 

“It’s better than everyone else’s Mandarin,” Baekhyun says, turning around in his seat to stare at them. Yixing lifts his head off of Minseok shoulder and straightens up, untangling their limbs but not putting any distance between their bodies. The only other member allowed to cling to Minseok so much without getting pushed away is Sehun, and Minseok is suddenly very glad that he and Baekhyun had a different schedule than the others. Sehun’s not a burden, but Minseok hasn’t gotten to see Yixing in almost a week and he doesn't feel like being shared.

“It’s not better than mine,” Yixing points out, puffing out his chest proudly. His hand sneaks down to wrap around Minseok’s, and Minseok watches as Baekhyun’s eyes follow the motion though no one comments on it.

“That’s because it’s your native language, stupid!”

Yixing only sticks out his tongue and says “you’re mean” before curling up against Minseok’s side and closing his eyes once more, apparently done with the conversation.

Baekhyun simply goes back to singing along with the radio as though there had never been an interruption, Hyunkyun shakes his head in fond exasperation, and, despite himself, Minseok stares unabashedly at Yixing.

Yixing’s eyes don’t reopen, and he says quiet, but he doesn’t go back to sleep and he doesn’t let go of Minseok’s hand. It’s a long time before Minseok can make himself turn his gaze to the window.







The heat in Minseok’s bedroom is sweltering, oppressive. The air conditioning in the dorms broke a few hours ago and won’t be fixed until sometime next week, and each and every one of them is paying for it. Minseok has his fan high and his window open all the way, has his blankets neatly folded on the edge of the bed because just the thought of covering up sounds like the sort of thing they’d make you do in Hell, and is wearing nothing but sweat-dampened boxers. Those would have long since been discarded with the rest of his clothes, if Minseok hadn’t remembered that Yixing’s flight is supposed to be coming in tonight.

Of course, Yixing’s never seemed to mind Minseok’s state of undress in the past, but he figures that there’s a very serious line and the two of them cuddling would probably be crossing it.

Impossibilities, he reminds himself firmly.

It’s then that Minseok hears his bedroom door squeak open, and familiar footsteps pad through the threshold before it’s quietly shut. 

“Hey,” Minseok greets blandly, not bothering to pretend like he’s anything other than awake, over-heated, and very bored. “How was your flight?”

“It was okay,” Yixing says, moving through the darkness with practiced ease. “I slept through most of it.” Minseok can see his shadow hovering over the edge of the bed, hesitant, and watches on curiously until finally he sees Yixing pull his shirt off and throw it on the floor before bending slightly to take off his shorts. 

Minseok’s mouth feels uncomfortably dry. Maybe he’s sweating so much that it’s causing dehydration.

“Wow, you guys really weren’t lying when you told me it would be hot.”

“Feels like a furnace,” Minseok agrees, making room for Yixing to lay down. Their bare skin sticks together from mutual sweat as Yixing finds a comfortable position and Minseok’s throat constricts, feeling suddenly as dry as his mouth as Yixing presses up against his side.

He thinks pointedly of barbed-wire boundaries and bold, black lines.

“Body heat,” Yixing mumbles, mirroring Minseok’s position on his back, though he hooks their ankles together. “Is it too much? Do you want me to leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Not unless you ask me to leave.”

The breeze from outside flutters in, across Minseok’s sticky skin like it’s been doing periodically for the past hour, and Minseok shivers.

“No,” Minseok says - so selfish - as he turns on his side and gathers Yixing up in his arms. Yixing doesn’t hesitate to mimic him, his arms fitting around Minseok’s bare torso and moving him until Minseok’s chest is pressed against his stomach and his head is on Yixing’s chest and he’s clutching Minseok to him, clinging so hard that Minseok almost can’t breathe. Minseok clings just as tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and squeezing Yixing because while he’s adamantly Not Thinking about some of his fears during the day, they’re so much harder to ignore in the darkness.

He smells like artificial oxygen and bleach and salt and Dove’s body lotion, and Minseok can feel his heart pounding, can feel his fingers clenching into fists against Minseok’s back. He reminds himself that Yixing always keeps his promises and that some impossibilities are worth bearing. 

“Thank you, hyung,” Yixing whispers, and Minseok thinks he sounds kind of choked but he doesn’t say anything because he hates to pry. “I was...I was feeling homesick. Thanks for letting me stay.”

“You’re so confusing,” Minseok sighs, lips quirking up automatically as he hugs Yixing tighter. His smile fades when he feels Yixing’s muscles tense beneath him.

“What?”

Minseok raises his head, and this close he can make out the slightest bit of Yixing’s face, sees him blink rapidly and imagines his eyebrows furrowing, imagines that he’s frowning.

“I don’t really get it,” Minseok admits, shrugging, “but it’s okay.”

He watches Yixing nod slowly, hesitant, and feels his grip on Minseok loosen as he breathes out a quiet, almost silent “oh”.

Minseok waits for him to speak, or fall asleep, and neither happens but still Minseok doesn’t say anything. He hates to pry.





It’s late. Minseok should be asleep - they’re packed tomorrow and he won’t have much time for cat naps - but he’s not. His bedroom light is on and his door is cracked while he sits cross-legged on his bed with his phone to keep him company as he waits.

Yixing’s never been away this long, but he sent them a message on groupchat saying that he was boarding the plane. That was over two hours ago, when everyone was in the van on their way back to the dorms. Minseok’s taken to reading it when he starts to feel nervous, or impatient. A reminder, of sorts.

There’s the distant, musical sound of someone pressing numbers on the keypad outside. Minseok’s phone drops into his lap and he raises his head, staring hard at the crack leading into the hallway, waiting. There’s the click of the lock, the sound of the front door opening and closing just as quietly. 

Minseok hears Yixing’s almost silent footfalls as he moves around the living room. 

Waiting.

Hears a door open. Hears it close. And then hears nothing but the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears, singing its confusion and its disappointment. 

Yixing always only comes on the nights after he gets back from China, never more. But never less, either, not in months. 

Except for tonight.

Minseok sits there, waiting, until he feels forced to accept defeat. Even after he turns off the lights, lays down and closes his eyes in some semblance of an attempt to sleep, the hope that Yixing will walk through that door keeps him wide awake.

Waiting.






Minseok waits for things to go back to normal, but nothing can stay the same forever. And now, Minseok thinks that things are as different as they’ve ever been.

Yixing’s put his Chinese promotions on hold so that Exo can record their new mini-album, it’ll be months before corporate will send him back and forth again, and Minseok sees him all the time but he’s pretty sure that he’d feel closer to him if Yixing was back in China. Now, instead of being in separate countries, it feels like they’re on separate planets.

It’s the little things that caused Minseok to fall for Yixing in the first place, little things that let Minseok dive into a love that’s always felt full of impossibilities, barbed-wire boundaries and and thick, black lines that he can never let himself cross. Little things, like the way his toes curl in when he’s embarrassed, like his sometimes childish naivety, his seemingly random bouts of playful manipulation, how his smile is a little dopey, and his laugh is kind of ridiculous, and how he always dives in head first, gives it everything he’s got even when all he’s doing is baking brownies or trying to learn Korean curse words.

Similarly, it’s all little things that are now driving Minseok insane. Little things that he never realized he was taking for granted until they were taken away. Like Yixing falling asleep on him in the van, or in dressing rooms. Like Yixing holding his hand. Like Yixing evening out his BB cream after Minseok spends hours sweating through it, or playing with his hair, or tugging on Minseok’s wrist and asking to buy him junk food because he’s already sent all of his money back to his family, because Minseok’s an easy target even though Junmyeon’s the one that’s loaded. Like Yixing hanging off of him, clinging to him, blinking at him and saying ‘sorry for hogging your bed, hyung’ like Minseok would ever not want him there.

Little things like that are gone and Minseok doesn’t understand why, and he hates it. Hates how talking to Yixing has become nothing but stilted conversations as they both try to avoid the elephant in the room - the elephant that Minseok didn’t even know existed. Hates how when he smiles at Yixing it feels uncertain. Hates that when Yixing smiles back it looks uncertain.

Hates the confusion, and the loneliness that’s begun sticking to him like a second skin, hates feeling like he did something wrong even though he’s spent too many nights awake trying to figure out where he screwed up to have come to any other conclusion than the fact that he’s not to blame, that Yixing’s the one at fault.

Hates that he can’t even be mad at Yixing because he’s still not sure what he’s supposed to be feeling mad about, only that over time he’s steadily become more and more frustrated with the whole thing.

He knows that the only real way to deal with this would be to point out the giant elephant in the room - seemingly invisible to everyone but Yixing and Minseok as it is - but there’s a problem with that.

Minseok is, fundamentally, a coward.






Minseok is a coward, but he’s learned out how make it appear like he’s not. It’s easy really. He’s a follower who sticks himself to leaders who are brave. He’s led to do things that might be considered potentially brave, except Minseok only goes into things when he knows the outcome, that way he can’t get hurt. It’s easier that way. Safer. Less scary.

Even becoming a member of Exo, even auditioning to be an idol trainee which most people would consider brave - or stupid, but don’t those two words usually go hand in hand? - even that was an act of cowardice. Because at the cusp of adulthood, Minseok learned that just about any other profession would lead to an early marriage and a small handful of children, and there’s nothing that scares Minseok more than a commitment that he can’t escape. 

A contract can be broken, and eventually forgotten. Family, on the other hand, is forever, and no amount of running away can change that.

Minseok is a coward - realized and accepted and easily worked around - but love is a funny thing, and shattered hope, no matter how small, has a habit of bouncing back, and Yixing makes him want to be brave.





“What’s going on between you two?” 

Finally someone notices, and maybe Minseok should be aggravated that that someone is Jongdae, who always pays too much attention, but he’s too tired to be much of anything anymore.

“I don’t know,” Minseok answers honestly, watching as from across the room Yixing lets his head fall onto Jongin’s shoulder. His eyes are open, wandering blankly around the room until they meet Minseok’s. He smiles timidly. Minseok tries to smile back, but he doesn’t quite manage it.

“Figure it out, hyung. The awkwardness won’t be appreciated when we start promotions.”






Minseok doesn’t know how to be brave.






“I miss him,” Minseok thinks to himself, not realizing that he’s spoken out loud until Kyungsoo looks at him curiously.

“Who?”

They’re in the recording studio with the producers and technicians. Yixing, Jongin, and Chanyeol are in the booth between sets, and Minseok can’t hear him through the soundproof glass but he sees him laugh at something Jongin says. When he says “Yixing”, the man in question looks up like he heard, eyes immediately finding Minseok. He holds Minseok’s gaze for only a second before breaking contact, looking back at Jongin and laughing silently again.

Kyungsoo doesn’t say something like ‘but he’s right there’, and he doesn’t say ‘that’s stupid’, and he doesn’t say ‘you’re weird, hyung’. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything. He just gives him a pitying look and pats him on the shoulder as though it will help. 

It doesn’t, but Minseok appreciates the thought.







Sometimes Minseok lies awake at night wondering if Yixing sleeps in Jongin’s bed when he’s homesick nowadays. Whenever the question crosses his mind he berates himself for feeling jealous, and hates himself for ever hoping - for even a second - that Yixing would ever want to stay with him.

There’s nothing good about hope. Hope is only ever destructive.








Sometimes Minseok lies awake at night wondering how it’s possible to miss someone so much when you see them every day.






It’s Minseok’s turn to sneak back into the dorms at some ungodly hour of the morning, his suitcase holding three days worth of clothes and necessities in his hand as he closes the front door quietly behind himself.

This time, Minseok’s the one with an out of country solo schedule that has him flying back and forth. He imagines he looks as bad as Yixing used to - waxy skin, deep purple bruises under his eyes, obvious perpetual fatigue and an unfortunate increase in acne from the stress - but he also feels as accomplished as he imagines Yixing did when he spent all those months going between China and South Korea.

He drops his things off in his bedroom and then - maybe it’s because he’s only slept maybe four hours altogether in three days - he finds himself leaving the comfort of his bedroom and heading to Yixing’s instead.

He opens the door. Pauses, unsure. 

“Hyung.”

It’s not a question, it’s a greeting, and Minseok swallows hard.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Bravery, Minseok realizes, is nothing more than an alchemical combination of exhaustion, desperation, and blind stupidity. It’s magical.

“Yeah,” Yixing answers, no hesitation, and Minseok hears the telltale rustle of blankets as Yixing makes room for him. He stumbles forward blindly until his knees hit the bed, and he’s careful not to fall on Yixing as he gingerly lays down.

“You can take your pants off, you know,” Yixing says, causing Minseok to realize belatedly that he never did bother to change clothes. He considers the offer but ultimately deigns to simply shake his head. 

“Nah. Too much work.” His body feels appropriately heavy, but Yixing sits up and tugs on Minseok’s wrist so he obligingly sits up. He feels Yixing’s fingers skim his stomach as he grabs the hem of Minseok’s shirt and his skin shivers at the contact. He blatantly ignores it, instead helping Yixing get his shirt off because Minseok’s accepted the fact that his own limbs aren’t being terribly responsive.

“Lay down,” Yixing says when Minseok’s shirt has been haphazardly thrown to the floor. “Hips,” he demands before tugging insistently on the legs of Minseok’s jeans. Minseok thinks hazily that this is beginning to feel like one of those lines that they’re not supposed to cross, but he pays the warning no real attention. A few minutes later and the two of them are nothing more than a mass tangle of limbs, and any danger that there might have been has long since passed. 

Of course, now that he’s been forced to move around more than his tired body would’ve preferred, Minseok’s woken up too much to immediately fall asleep.

So instead he thinks about his own accidental moment of bravery - if it could be called that - and the fact that even though Yixing’s been all but avoiding him the past few months, he didn’t hesitate to agree to sleep with Minseok again.

Now's as good a time as any, he supposes.

“Why did you leave?” Minseok asks quietly. He knows Yixing’s not asleep, can feel his rapid heartbeat and his uneven breaths ghosting against Minseok’s neck and knows that if he doesn’t ask Yixing now he never will.

“Why did you come back?” Yixing retaliates after a minute. Not accusing, not sad, just curious. 

Because Minseok missed him and he’s tired of pretending otherwise. Because lately he’s been thinking of one of those quotes Yifan used to spout off when he was trying to look deep and philisophical, ‘home is where the heart is’, and maybe Yifan’s heart never left China but Minseok’s spent the better part of six months flying back and forth. Because Minseok’s tired of being a coward, and tired of being confused, and more than anything he’s tired of being scared that Yixing won’t keep his promise when the fact of the matter is that Minseok doesn’t really care where Yixing goes as long as he lets Minseok come with him.

It’s not fair, but Minseok answers him anyway. He always has been an easy target.

“Homesick,” he mutters, and feels Yixing freeze, muscles tense, before relaxing.

It’s not much of a confession. Baby steps, Minseok promises himself. Baby steps.

“That’s why,” Yixing tells him, grabbing Minseok’s wrist and tracing his thumb blindly along the lines on Minseok’s palm. “Because you didn’t understand, and I was too scared to explain it.” His toes curl against Minseok’s calf as he speaks. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

Minseok still doesn’t understand even though he has a feeling he should. Normally he wouldn’t pry, but tonight is a night of adventures and blind stupidity and trying new things. 

“Explain it anyways.”

Jongdae would probably get it right off the bat. Jongdae is too perceptive for his own damn good.

“Not tonight.” Yixing’s toes are digging into Minseok’s skin.

“I want it to make sense. Don’t be scared.”

“You’re stupid.”

“C’mon, didi,” Minseok groans, shoving Yixing lightly. “I feel like I’m missing something really important, and-”

Yixing cuts him off with a rapid string of Mandarin, but the words are jumbled and Minseok’s brain is running on very little sleep and he finds himself simply staring blankly at Yixing’s outline in the dark.

“No fair, that’s cheating.”

Yixing huffs out a laugh and begins the long process of carefully untangling them from each other. Minseok doesn’t help, but he doesn’t stop it either. He just waits.

He feels Yixing’s palms on his shoulders, sees Yixing’s outline hovering above him, and then feels Yixing’s breath, hot and moist, hit his lips.

Oh.

“Do you want me to leave?” Yixing whispers, uncertain and scared and vulnerable but otherwise unmoving. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Not unless you ask me to leave.”

“Take me with you,” Minseok answers, lifting his head off the pillow just the slightest bit, until their lips are touching and his heart begins trying unsuccessfully to break out of his chest.

Maybe not so impossible after all.


Bonus:

Minseok wakes up on a bed that isn’t his, with a familiar body pressed against his back, an arm wrapped around his stomach, and someone clearing their throat loudly. He lifts his heavy head, careful not to jostle Yixing as he spots Jongdae, arms crossed expectantly, standing in the doorway.

“Well this is awfully anticlimactic,” Jongdae says, his eyebrows furrowed and a disappointed frown on his lips. “Here I’ve been, waiting for you two to explode into some angsty argument leading to a teary confession, or you to run through Incheon Airport to exclaim your love for Yixing before he left you forever, or some late-night Serious Life Han River Discussion, or maybe for one of you to get cancer-”

“You watch too many movies,” Minseok tells him, voice rough with sleep as he lets his head drop back onto the pillow. “Learn to read a book, Jongdae.”

“I’m just saying that I feel as though I’ve been denied something awesome.”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” Minseok promises, tone dry and unamused even as he tries to hide a giddy smile into the blanket. Stupid Jongdae.

“You guys ,” Jongdae sighs dramatically. “Anyways, I just came in here to let you know that we’ve got to be at the studio in thirty, and Chanyeol made coffee and food.”

“Yixing wants muffins,” Minseok tells him, letting his eyelids fall shut. Just for a minute.

“Well Yixing-hyung’s in luck then, isn’t he? Stop being so lazy and get up.”

Yixing gets his muffins, and life begins to get better.





Author's Note: I didn't edit this very well, so if anyone sees any mistakes and you'd like to let me know then go for it.