“You’re kidding.” Minseok grins, skirting to the left of the sidewalk to let a businessman glued to his phone barrel between him and Luhan.

Luhan raises a brow and puts on his best serious face, which really only serves to make him look kind of constipated.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Minseok purses his lips in an attempt to keep his laughter in, but Luhan’s bottom lip is trembling too and suddenly they’re both bursting into laughter in the middle of the walkway and causing a ruckus that blends in perfectly with the busy background noise of the city.

It’s been three days since Yixing had shown up on Luhan’s doorstep with Minseok in tow, and since then they’ve gotten over the initial awkwardness of it all and it no longer seemed like Minseok had any intention of getting “so out of there”. In all honesty, it was easier than he thought. Slipping back into Luhan’s life and vice versa was so easy and natural that it scared him, just a little bit.

Yixing was nowhere to be seen after the first night, as he had predicted, which left Minseok alone with Luhan. And one cup of coffee later, they were talking animatedly, almost as if they hadn’t broken each other’s heart five years ago. Even after all this time, Luhan was still (mostly) the same, save for the tiny crinkles around his eyes becoming more prominent. But Minseok was pleased to see this, for it meant that Luhan had laughed a lot in his absence. And he seemed so carefree now, so free with his smiles, so familiar, and so happy that Minseok let his guard down.

Maybe this time would be different. He could reconnect with Luhan, as friends.

“What do you think?” Luhan’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and without thinking, he replies.

“Sounds good—wait, what did I just agree to?”

“To marrying me.” 

Minseok balks, almost spilling the iced coffee in his hands. Luhan laughs and holds up a pair of shoes.

“I’m just kidding! I was asking about these kicks. I can’t believe you still space out so much.”

“Not funny, Luhan,” Minseok huffs, but there’s really no bite to his statement. “And really? Who even calls shoes kicks anymore? Seriously, get with the times.”

“Fine, then I guess I won’t buy them for you!”

“You—Oh, come on!” Minseok splutters, rolling his eyes. “Like I need you to buy things for me. I’m waiting outside.”

He hears Luhan calling for him but exits the store anyways, leaning against the glass and smiling to himself. A small part of him feels guilty—guilty for smiling around Luhan so much, for letting himself relive the old days. But this is what he came here for, so he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and focuses on the giddiness still knocking around in his insides, doing his best to turn a blind eye to everything that could go wrong.

Two days later, he’s sitting on the hood of Luhan’s sports car parked on a hill and holding his hand. The city below them is still illuminated brightly even as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. Beijing is a city that never really sleeps, after all.

In all honesty, he thinks the city must be doing something funny to his head because one week ago, there was no way in hell he would ever willingly hold Luhan’s hand and watch the sunset together. It feels right, though (not that he even knows what’s right and what’s wrong anymore). Their hands, more calloused than before, still fit perfectly into each other, and Minseok feels like a teenager again, floating away and getting high on the feeling of Luhan’s lips on his.

“Minseok?”

He turns his head when Luhan whispers his name and sends bursts of electricity dancing along his spine.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna ask you a question. Don’t freak out on me, alright? And don’t lie.”

He almost freaks out right on the spot, because it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s coming next. Forcing himself to keep eye contact with Luhan, he plays dumb and nods.

“Do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

There is no hesitation, and Luhan is taken aback. He thought he would have to try harder to get Minseok to answer. Time seems to slow down around him as he squeezes Minseok’s hand.

“Are you still in love with me?”

“Yes,” Minseok admits, barely above a whisper, sounding like a guilty child caught red-handed stealing from the cookie jar. He looks a bit sad as he replies, Luhan thinks, or is it just a trick of the shadows?

Luhan scoots closer to Minseok and brings his free hand up to cup his face. Minseok leans into the touch slightly and Luhan’s heart does a flip. He swallows roughly and his eyes dart down to Minseok’s lips.

“Can I?”

Minseok almost says yes, almost leans forward and presses his lips against Luhan’s, but he remembers what happened five years ago and he remembers Yixing and suddenly he doesn’t want to be floating away anymore. He clutches at Luhan’s arm, trying to ground himself as his throat closes up and his face contorts into a pained expression. He shakes his head, scrunching up the fabric of the expensive shirt Luhan is wearing as he falls into him. Luhan’s arms automatically wrap themselves around him, bringing him even closer. Fingers run through his hair as Luhan mentally kicks himself, and time resumes, crashing back down around them.

“I’m still in love with you, Kim Minseok,” Luhan whispers into Minseok’s hair, and it sounds like an apology.

Luhan closes his eyes, bitterness churning in his stomach.

Minseok falls asleep on the ride home, and Luhan carries him up the elevator and into the guest bedroom. It’s late, and it doesn’t seem like Yixing is coming home tonight (he’s probably staying on a cot in the shelter again). Quietly, Luhan works Minseok’s shoes off his feet and sets them at the foot of the bed. When he turns to tuck him in, he finds himself staring into his eyes instead. Minseok looks guilty again, and Luhan gives him a small smile.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Since we got back.”

A stretch of silence follows before Minseok sits up and wiggles his toes, looking a little less guilty as he peeks up at Luhan through his eyelashes.

“I pretended to still be asleep so you’d carry me up.”

It takes every ounce of self control for Luhan to stay still.

“I know.”

Minseok tucks himself in, leaving a space between himself and the edge of the bed, and Luhan slips under the covers to fill that space without a second thought.

“Is this okay?” He mumbles as he pulls Minseok into his arms, not really caring if it is or not.

There’s no response, and he quickly falls asleep to the familiar rise and fall of Minseok’s breathing—but not before a kiss, as gentle as a feather, is pressed against his jawline.

“You know, if you keep teasing me, I’ll just come back for more.”

Minseok hums in response, leaning against Luhan’s shoulder and ignoring him in favor of the TV. He’s leaving in a few days, and he wants to make the most of his time. He can feel the tension rising—the same tension that’s been building up for over a week and threatening to surface at any moment.

“I’m serious, Min. I mean, this is crazy. Aren’t we doing exactly what Yixing was afraid of happening? Falling in love again?”

“I never fell out of love,” he says softly. Luhan sighs and struggles between knocking some sense into him and kissing him.

“I never did either.” He settles for neither.

“We parted on a mutual agreement,” Minseok says, like it makes a difference now.

“It wasn’t a mutual agreement.”

“Because you regretted it.”

“And you didn’t?”

The drama playing on the television is lowered to a murmur, and Minseok realizes Luhan is staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“..No. I don’t. We can never be happy together. You know that, don’t you?”

“But we can never be happy without each other,” Luhan counters, feeling his own sense of reason fly out the door.

“Yes, we can,” Minseok says, firmly. Then his gaze softens. “Just not completely. But it’s better than an endless cycle of what we had before. You’ll do or say something stupid, I’ll avoid you, we’ll pretend everything’s okay, then we’ll fight. Rinse and repeat. I can’t live like that. Not again.”

“So is that it? I can’t make you happy all the time, so you don’t even want to try?”

Minseok wants to punch him in the face for saying that.

“No. You do make me happy. You make me so happy, but you also make me so sad. And it’s the same for you. At some point you’ll get tired again, tired of having your entire life revolve around me. Don’t look at me like that—you know I’m right. Because it’s suffocating for me, too.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” 

“How do you think this will end, Luhan? You’ll ask me to stay and I’ll say yes, breaking Yixing’s heart, and we’ll be happy for what? A few weeks, few months, maybe. Is it really worth it?”

Luhan doesn’t tell Minseok that he’s shouting as he leans his forehead against his, running his hands through his hair to calm him down.

“Everything is worth it when it comes to you, Minseok,” he says quietly.

“It’s not easy,” comes the choked up reply. “Making a choice isn’t easy. I want to love you, Luhan. But I can’t leave Yixing. I’ve worked so hard to find myself, to become Minseok again, the Minseok without Luhan. If I stay…I’ll lose myself again. We both will.”

“What if I don’t want to be Luhan without Minseok?”

“That’s not your choice to make.” 

A familiar anxiety tugs at his gut, the anxiety of losing Minseok again. Without thinking, he presses their lips together, urgency and desperation surfacing. Minseok wants to pull away, but he doesn’t. Luhan has never been good with words, but there’s nothing left to say now anyways, so he lets himself be kissed silly knowing it’s the last intimate moment they’ll ever share together.

Lips red and chest burning with an old flame, he feels his heart breaking all over again as Luhan cries into his shoulder.