Title: For Everything
Pairing/s: Mei Qi/Dawon
Summary: (college!au) Nam Dawon learns that love is unquantifiable and intangible and fleeting, that it slips between her fingers and disappears when she closes her eyes.
A/N: :’) im so sorry this took so long i got caught up with life again, anyway im alive and well and here’s some meiwon for everyone. something definitely lighter than the previous oneshot  :----)  insp by Look At The Light - Sin Fang  unbetaed trash, what's new? comments and upvotes are appreciated!

 

7:00 AM on the rooftop of the university dormitory.

It’s too early but it’s how they always start. With clean hands. Without the dirt and dust from yesterday’s interactions.

A smile in the morning with the sun on their backs. Not a hundred pairs of eyes from last night’s horrors. Meng Mei Qi dances a number of routines for the past three weeks. Nam Dawon soaks under the sun, sometimes still half-asleep, gobbling up tangerines and strawberries, her fingers idle by the speakers, ready to press play and pause and stop.

“Unnie, you’ve been coming here to the rooftop every morning.” Mei Qi says, wiping the sides of her head with the sleeve of her purple shirt. “You usually wake up around nine. Don’t you ever get tired of watching me?”

“Why would I? You dance very well.”

“I’m just saying you could still be sleeping or doing something else than waste your time.”

Dawon appeases her anxiety with a smile because sometimes Mei Qi, like her, tends to worry over the smallest things. “I never saw you as a waste of time.”

When Mei Qi’s done with her daily morning practice, Dawon invites her for a jog around the school grounds. Naturally Mei Qi is the faster runner but eventually they learn how to match the length of their strides to the loudness of their laughter.

When they pass by each other in the hallways between classes, their arms are linked with somebody else’s: Dawon with her childhood friends, Lee Luda and Park Jimin, and Mei Qi with Cheng Xiao and Son Juyeon.

(At first their greetings come in knowing smiles and arm touches. Then their fingers find each other, anchoring to the familiarity until the gap between their steps becomes uneven.)

After dinner they excuse themselves from their circle of friends to meet again at the rooftop. They sit on the old gray tiles and every night the gaps between their bodies lessen bit by bit, millimeter by a millimeter, until their shoulders graze whenever one of them moves.

They walk in circles under the stars and talk beyond words. Childhood stories, dreams, futures; who they were, what they are and where they will go. When the day ends they don’t say goodbye.

Neither one speaks but both smile in understanding as if to say: don’t worry, I will be here tomorrow.

+

Spending time with Mei Qi is the easiest thing Dawon has ever done in her life. They fit perfectly like puzzle pieces; bound by their passion for music, both with jagged edges and slanted sides, both willing to know each other between dusk and dawn.

There are moments when Dawon’s fingers dance over the piano, melodies stitching themselves in songs propelled by her voice, echoing tunes into the deserted auditorium after school hours. Then there's Mei Qi beside her, staring and smiling and sometimes singing.

(When the Department of Performing Arts does their weekly rehearsals, it’s Dawon’s turn to sit at the back row and watch as Mei Qi’s talents unravel on stage.)  

Then there are moments when Dawon sings a tune out of the blue to bridge the gaps between their stories; the first melody from her mind. Then Mei Qi fills it with rhythm, dictates the meter, taps her fingertips and hums, until they meet halfway and the music that forms is seamless and raw and beautiful.

“Unnie, can you do everyone a favor?” Mei Qi’s request comes one day, when the breeze begins to scatter the petals on the rooftop of the dormitory. “Don’t ever stop singing.”

“Then don’t stop dancing.” Dawon chuckles. “Or singing, or acting. I heard you’re giving your seniors a run for their roles.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re one of the most talented people I know. Have you heard yourself talk? You sound like you’ve been speaking Korean all your life.”

Mei Qi looks at her incredulously and with that same shy smile before her trembling lips give way to a laugh. “Well, okay. We should give both ourselves enough credit. Deal?”

Dawon thinks Mei Qi’s being childish and cute but she kind of likes it. “Deal.”

+

After several weeks Dawon and Mei Qi still do not realize that they have become each other’s habits.

+

Maybe Dawon likes Mei Qi too much. Maybe it’s the other way around.

Of all the things they talk about, they don’t speak about themselves. It’s a mutual understanding. There’s always the risk of smothering each other with their presence. Like when they first reach out their hands to shake, their hesitation begins at the same time.

But what they don’t utter show in the lingering stares and the awkward silence that forms when they notice (at the same time, too) that their lips are a little too close when they speak.

Luda keeps on asking her: “Have you gotten over yourselves and confessed to each other or will you wait another five years?”

Dawon would usually mumble an exasperated, “A guy asked her out recently,” or “I don’t even like her that way,” or “We’re just friends,” but tonight she lets the question hang between the ink blots that form on the paper beneath her hand.

She doesn’t know if it began when she first saw Mei Qi dancing on the rooftop or if it happened less than an hour ago when Mei Qi told her, “Sleep well, unnie.” in her gentle voice for the first time after their many weeks of silent good nights.

Dawon has never liked a girl the way she likes Mei Qi.

The moment she feels her chest being stretched and bent in so many aching ways, Luda being that friend, grabs the pen on the floor (that Dawon doesn’t even notice dropping), eyes flabbergasted and mouth agape and says it for her. “Wow. Jiyeon unnie was right all along. It’s impossible to miss it because it’s the same freaking expression."

“What are you talking about?”

“Congratulations, Nam Dawon. You’re in love.”

+

Dawon doesn’t tell Mei Qi, of course.

There’s no need to.

Loving is the art of being subtle, she thinks. A game of observance. You hide it from the other, but you make it known that you are hiding something. So she tries hiding her affection completely or even just its excess.

She begins to swallow more than half of her smile and masks her excitement with superficial shyness.

(She’s done the same with the boys she dated before; one in middle school, one in high school. Though they didn’t seem to notice the mask she’s pointing at even after the end.)

Tonight, they’re huddled under Mei Qi’s blankets, watching late-night music show reruns, lights dimmed and legs overlapping.

Mei Qi and Cheng Xiao’s room is a cozy box of soft pastels; mauve, lavender and ivory. Light colored walls and whitewashed floor, lines of moonlight filtered by glass windows, plush toys neatly lined up according to size on her bed and shelves full of organized magazines.

It’s quiet and serene. Dawon thinks it suits Mei Qi perfectly- the organization and the colors and the stillness. As if everything belongs in this very room and nowhere else, with Mei Qi being at the center of it all.

Dawon tries to spark up little conversations because she knows enough of Mei Qi to notice that she isn’t watching whoever it is on the screen. Not really. It’s too dark and they’re too close and too quiet. The sides of their hands touch but neither one of them moves or pulls away.

“Are you really sure your roommate won’t mind?” she asks for the nth time.

“Xiao doesn’t sleep here anymore. Not since two weeks ago.” Mei Qi responds, “She just drops by every now and then to dump her laundry and grab a new set of clothes.” and her fingers ghost over Dawon’s knuckles, flips her hand over and casually traces the lines on her palm.

Dawon lets her play with her hand and refrains from telling her it tickles. “What does my future look like?”

“Bright.” Mei Qi laughs, “When you graduate next year, you’ll pursue your singing career. You’ll be successful and you’ll get everything that you deserve, all the nice things in the world.” she slips her fingers between Dawon’s. “You’ll be happier, too.”

Dawon wants to pull away, but also doesn’t, so she holds on, subtlety, and denies how her fingers fit perfectly between Mei Qi’s. The television is muted and the quiet technicolor wraps them in a whisper she’s been waiting to say. “What about us?”

Mei Qi sits up from the fortress of pillows, “I’ll still be here and get lonely without you so you’ll come visit me every once in a while.” then all of a sudden as if some mad idea came through, her features brighten up the dark.

“What is it?”

“Maybe we’ll both have boyfriends by then. Remember the guy who asked me out last week?”

“You said you were going to turn him down.”

“I think I’ll give him a chance. He seems nice.”

This doesn’t surprise Dawon. Not at all. She already prepared for thes