- November 30, 2017 -

Snow filtered past the bedroom window, the skies a bleak and dreary gray beyond the sheer curtains. Minho sat at the foot of the bed, staring blankly at the sliver of the window that wasn't obstructed by the curtains. Kibum was almost done, he could hear him setting his skincare products back in their places. He took a deep breath at the sound of the doorknob, sitting up a little straighter.

Steeling himself.

"Oh," Kibum said, the sound escaping him seemingly involuntarily. "I thought you had already headed out."

“It starts at twelve-thirty. We’ve still got time.” Minho slowly turned to face Kibum, his heart -- somehow -- sinking even further than it already had. "You're really not coming?"

Kibum's brow furrowed, his expression twitching into something like pained amusement for a split second before he schooled his expression. "You know I have some extra work to do." For whatever reason, Minho doubted that. "Besides, it's just another Quidditch game. I've been to loads of them."

"All of them," Minho knew better than to say aloud. The last thing they needed right now was any more tension in the house. "Are you gonna want to meet Minseok and Felicity for dinner?"

"And the kids?"

Minho sighed, shaking his head as he turned back to the window. Last he heard, the kids weren’t going to be there and they both knew that. Why he would bring it up now, he didn't know. Or care.

"I'll see if I can make it. But I'm not exactly sure what my workload will be." Minho hummed noncommittally, then stood. "Break a leg, Min." Minho's brow furrowed as he passed him, and he threw a confused glance Kibum's way. "You know, good luck?"

"Yeah. Right." His shoulders hunched as he reached the top of the stairs. "Thanks."

Kibum didn't respond, which was just as well. Minho hadn't expected him to. He trudged down the stairs, stopping on the landing, his gaze landing on Kibum's coat.

He'd bought it for him. Four years ago. They'd been walking home from a date in the city and Kibum spotted it in one of the shop windows. Minho had bought it on the spot; Kibum's exuberant reaction had blown the price completely from his mind.

Minho swallowed thickly, stepping past. "You ready?" he asked when he found Jonghyun lounging on the couch, book in hand.

"Yeah," he said, sitting up and glancing past him. "Is he still saying that he's not coming?" Minho couldn't find his voice, so he just shook his head. "I'll go talk to him."

"No, wait," he wanted to say, but Jonghyun had already breezed past him to hurry up the stairs. . Hopefully, this didn't make things worse than they already were…

He leaned against the counter, staring forlornly at the empty hallway, his fingers tapping on the parchment pad either Jonghyun or Kibum had left there. He blinked slowly, his gaze refocusing as he glanced down at it.

Maybe a note would work. Going back to their roots might shatter the tension.

Minho stretched out, reaching for the nearest pen and jotting down the first things that came to mind. His scrawl got messier as footsteps -- a single pair of footsteps -- sounded on the stairs. After he dropped the pen back where he had found it, he folded the note and hid it in his palm as he moved to meet Jonghyun at the door.

Jonghyun's apologies were plainly written in his gaze, and Minho gave him a weak smile. It was okay. He didn't blame Jonghyun for this, even if he would have preferred him to keep the secret.

"Good to go?" He asked again, stepping back and slipping the note into Kibum's coat pocket.

"Yeah," he said, and Minho clapped his now note-free hand on his shoulder, disapparating for the pitch with a thought.

Icy wind whipped around them the second they materialized outside the stadium. The snow was falling a lot harder up here in rural Connecticut, so he and Jonghyun pulled their coats tighter around themselves as they hurried into the hallway leading to the pitch. Some of the team was already out there, no doubt getting ready to warm up. Minho moved to join them, but Jonghyun grabbed his arm.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Jjong,” he said, perhaps a bit too harshly. Then, “I’m sorry.”

“Later then.”

Minho nodded, even though he knew that he still wouldn’t feel like discussing the matter later either. Jonghyun let go of him, and Minho hurried to get changed into his uniform. The locker room was empty aside from him, so he filled the silence with his distracted humming of “All-Star.” Unsurprisingly, he always got it stuck in his head on a game day.

He plopped down on the bench to lace up his boots and slip on his gloves, his heart growing heavier still as he listened to the stands begin to fill up.

Why couldn’t they resolve this? It wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part, that was for sure. But any attempt at reconciliation was immediately shot down by Kibum, and Minho just didn’t know why. They still slept in the same bed, though neither had so much as held the other’s hand since the original argument.

At this point, Minho couldn’t even begin to think of a solution.

The door to the locker room opened, but Minho didn’t turn to see who it was. “Oh, good. You’re here,” Quentin said, striding into the room, his body a blur as he passed him to get to his locker. “You coming out soon?” Minho nodded with a non-committal hum. “It’ll be good to get some warm-up laps in before the game starts.”

“Right.”

Quentin patted his back as he passed him again. “Let’s go!”

Minho heaved a heavy sigh and trudged after him, following him to the broom cupboard and taking his Firestorm from its hook, his eyes on the dangling silver snake on the handle. He brushed it with his thumb, starting the charm swinging back and forth, and squared his shoulders before he followed Quentin out into the chill.

* * * * * * * * * *

As soon as Kibum heard Minho’s distant You ready? he settled on the foot of their bed, his gaze trained on the empty stairwell. Then, he rubbed his hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before he let his hand drop to his side once more.

Merlin, would they ever get past this?

Or, rather, would he be able to?

He wanted to. Really. He wanted so badly to. Loneliness welled up inside him every time they were in the same room, and as soon as he was gone, the well became an aching chasm, craving to be filled. As much as he wanted to alleviate his and, undoubtedly, Minho’s suffering, he just...couldn’t. Because the loneliness was not the only thing that was there when Minho was beside him now. It was accompanied by the nagging thought that he would never truly be enough for Minho. That he never had been. That if they stayed together, Minho would resent him someday for not allowing him to start a family of his own.

And that, unfortunately, prevented him from participating in any sort of conversation. Because, if it were true, the best thing to do would be to part ways…

Right now, Kibum wasn’t sure which thought was more unbearable.

Quick, light footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Kibum turned, somehow still hopeful that it was Minho. His heart sank as Jonghyun’s head poked out above the top stair as he hurried up them.

“Are you ing kidding me?” Jonghyun asked in a harsh whisper. “You’re really gonna miss his game?” Kibum’s jaw clenched and his eyebrows twitched as he looked away. “You and I both know you don’t have work today. He does, too, probably.”

“What about it?”

Jonghyun shook his head, rounding on him so that he stood before him. “If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

Jonghyun rolled his eyes into a glare at him. “I doubt it would have been this big of an argument if I hadn’t let it slip that he was gonna propose.”

Was. Even now, after everything, the past tense stung.

“It’s not fair to him, or you, to let this continue to fester.”

“You should go,” Kibum said, his voice more disinterested than he felt. “Don’t want to be late for the game.”

Jonghyun shook his head, scoffed loudly, and started for the stairs again. Kibum sat rigid, staring at the laundry hamper as he waited for the expected pop! of apparition. When it came, he fell back onto the bed, tears starting to stream down his cheeks as he buried his face in the nearest pillow.

Yes, Jonghyun was right. It wasn’t fair. No matter what, he needed to find it within him to break the tension between them once and for all. No matter what that entailed.

It wasn’t until he dried his face and made to stand that he realized he had been clutching Minho’s pillow, not his own. He swallowed thickly, patting it back into place on Minho’s side before he went into the bathroom to touch up his face and straighten his cardigan.

Despite the weather, he couldn’t stay inside. Not when every single inch of the townhouse reminded him of Minho. So, as soon as he could no longer tell that he had been crying, he hurried down the stairs and tugged on his boots before he slipped into his favorite coat.

He welcomed the wintery chill with a deep breath and the tiniest hint of a smile. The snow crunching beneath his feet filled the air, muting the swirling mass of anxious thoughts. Momentarily, when he looked up and caught a glimpse of the sign for Sanderson’s, he considered going in for a drink. But the sisters were nosy. They’d probably ask after Minho. So he turned, heading instead to the park across the lane.

His breath plumed around him like a cloud, his thoughts involuntarily drifting back to the happy winters he and...he and Minho had spent at school. Kibum stopped walking, the snow falling aimlessly around him.

Even if they did break up, there would be no escaping him. Minho had woven himself into every aspect of his life. Everything would somehow connect back to him. He'd never be free of him.

Not that that was a bad thing.

Also, it wasn't as if he actually wanted to break up with him. It was just...the reality of the situation.

Kibum sighed again, cutting it short when his breath clouded around him again. He closed his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling for his gloves as he started down the tree-lined path. His pockets were empty, aside from what felt like a couple of Dragots and a receipt for something he must have bought. No, the paper was thicker than a receipt.

Brow furrowed, he pulled it out, unfolding it. His steps slowed to a complete stop as he read it.

I love you more than I could ever express. I miss you. Just, so much. Can we talk again?

Please, sweetheart

Kibum's throat burned as he tried to swallow, the messy scrawl of Minho's writing blurring as a fresh wave of tears overcame him.

He missed him, too. Of course, he did. They may live in the same house and sleep in the same bed, but it was hard not to miss him with how little they talked these days.

He wiped at his eyes, reading the note again. Maybe Minho didn't want to end things like he feared he did. What was the point of avoiding the conversation, then, if that wasn't the case?

Kibum stuffed the note back into his pocket as he reached inside his coat for his wand. As soon as he whipped it out, he twisted on the spot, his magic carrying him on the wind to Minho.

Or, to the stadium, at least.

He landed in the deeper snow, barely orienting himself before he started to run toward the pitch. Judging by the sounds of it, the game had yet to start. He still had time. Not to see him, probably, but enough time to get settled. He'd have all the time in the world to see Minho after the game.

He was breathless by the time he climbed the stairs to the family box above the announcer's stand. Kibum went up on his tiptoes, searching for Jonghyun or Minseok. There they were, a little further over from where he usually sat. Jonghyun stood and shuffled along the bleachers to meet him, pulling him aside before Kibum could greet him. "Finished with work already?" he asked, though it didn't sound like a question.

Kibum pulled his arm away before Jonghyun could grab it. "Just save me a seat," he murmured as he moved past him, hurrying up to the banister. He stepped up on it, leaning as far over the pitch as he dared. One hand clung to the upper rail as he searched the sky and the flurry of red and blue for Minho. When he found him, he cupped his free hand around his mouth, yelling, "Go, go, Choi Minho!"

Minho stopped flying immediately, his head swinging around to face the family box. Kibum's breath caught as he felt his gaze, even at this distance. His fingertips grazed his lips which started to curl into his first real smile in quite some time when Minho took off in a burst of speed. He did one of his trademark rolls as he took a hairpin turn around the far end of the pitch.

He was trembling, though not from the cold, as he stepped off the banisher and backed away to join Jonghyun and Minseok in the stands. To his utter surprise, Dominic and Winifred were sitting on either side of Minseok, so bundled up that he barely recognized them as he drew nearer.

"Uncle Kibum!" Dominic squealed as Kibum stepped up to meet them. He bounced out of his seat and into Kibum's immediately open arms, hugging him tightly. "Jjongie said, he said you were at work!"

"I was able to get away," he said, picking him up and resting him on his hip. Jonghyun scooted over, leaving room for Kibum between him and Minseok. Dominic clambered onto his lap. "I thought you said the kids weren't coming," he whispered to Minseok as the whistle blew, calling the teams to the pitch and momentarily out of sight.

"That was the plan," Minseok whispered back. "But her parents couldn't watch them while we were here."

"Ah."

He glanced down at Dominic, who was giggling at the funny faces Jonghyun was making at him. "Who are we cheering for today, Domni?"

"Mumma," she said, giggling some more when Kibum frowned at him.

"What about Uncle Minho? He deserves some cheers, too?" Dominic smiled shyly, burying his face in Kibum's shoulder. "Here, I'll teach you." He turned Dominic around so that he was facing forward in his lap, wrapping his arms around him. "It's 'Go, go, Choi Minho!'. Can you do that?"

He repeated it in his tiny voice and Kibum nodded, even though he couldn't see him. Kibum rested his chin on Dominic’s head as the announcer started calling out the players’ names, anticipation swelling within him.

As much as he enjoyed watching Minho playing Quidditch, he couldn’t wait for this game to be over.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Go, go, Choi Minho!”

Minho’s head snapped around at the faint yet wonderfully, blessedly familiar cheer. He stopped flying so abruptly that he thought he was going to fall off for a second.

There Kibum was, standing on the edge of the banister.

He came. He actually came.

They would obviously still need to talk, but just the fact that he came… Jubilation surged through him so strongly that he couldn't contain it. He flew forward, his Firestorm carrying him to the opposite end of the field in the blink of an eye. He did a sort of barrel roll as he turned at the goalposts, laughter bubbling out of him.

Kibum was here. Everything was okay again. Or at least, it would be very soon.

He barely registered the sound of the whistle, noticing after a few seconds that his teammates and the Harpies were all returning to the ground. Minho dove, dropping quickly and dismounting before he had fully slowed down. Pringle caught him when he over-corrected his balance, muttering something about being careful before they went to their formation so the referees could make notes of their numbers and positions.

Minho caught Mercy's gaze, her eyebrows raising in question. She, and undoubtedly the rest of the team, had noticed his recent shift in mood. As the captain, she had just been the one to talk to him about it. For now, Minho gave her a quick shake of his head. He could explain later.

Minho grinned, heaved a sigh of relief, and forced himself to turn his attention to the present when the announcer’s voice rang through the stadium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome, one and all to The Golden Gables Stadium here in sunny New Hampshire!” A chuckle rippled throughout the crowd, Arsenia shaking her head and no doubt rolling her eyes. Gerald Feinbelt, the owner of the stadium and the announcer for the games, made that joke every single time they played. “Is everyone excited?” A cheer rang out, Minho smiling as he glanced around at the stands. “I said, Is everyone excited?” He yelled it this time, and the cheers of the crowd were deafening now. “We’ll work on it.”

Another laugh. Susan sighed, shaking the accumulated snow out of her long ponytail. “Why does he have to drag this bit on every single ing t -- “

“Let’s welcome our guests to the Golden Gables, everyone.” Music started blaring -- from where Minho was never sure -- and the Holyhead Harpies took to the snowy skies in a blaze of green and gold. “There’s Alicia Thickey, the Holyhead Keeper.” She veered off from the pack circling the stands, waving to the cheering crowd as she stopped before the far-right goal posts. “Moran MacFarlan, the Holyhead Seeker.” Minho went up on his tiptoes, inspecting the slight witch as she took her place over the pitch. “Victorie Robbins and Felicity Spinnet-Choi, the Holyhead Beaters.”

He clapped this time, his eyes on Felicity as she drifted off to the right of the pitch while Victorie took to the left. Pringle looked back at him, confused. “What? She’s my sister-in-law.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he looked back at the remaining Harpies circling the pitch.

“Marsha Abbott, Melonie Olivier, and Penelope Wood, the Holyhead Chasers.” All three of the witches found their places, one of them coming to the exact center to wait for the toss. “And now” -- The music changed to the song that always accompanied a goal or a win for them. Everyone started moving, bouncing on the balls of their feet while they got ready to mount their brooms. “The moment we’ve all been waiting for... Let’s welcome the American National Quidditch team to the skies!”

“Let’s go!” Mercy shouted over the din, and Minho hopped on his broom and joined the others as they zoomed around the pitch.

“First up we have Susan” -- Gerald said, his announcer voice even more prominent now that the home team was being introduced. He drew her name out for a while before finishing with -- “Blancheflower!”

Susan broke off from the back of the pack, flying over to her goalposts.

“Let’s hear it for the man! The myth! The legend! Choi Minho!”

Minho grinned, tilting his broom handle up and shooting up above the rest, flying upside-down for a moment until he reached his spot in the air. He waved to the cheering crowd, searching the faces of the families’ stand for Kibum. There he was, sandwiched between Minseok and Jonghyun. He was holding Dominic, and he could barely hear their cries of “Go, go, Choi Minho!” over the crowd.

“And for our Beaters, the Unbeatable Duo, the Terrors of the Skies, Pringle and Lucas Piquery!”

Minho clapped for them by slapping his free hand on his thigh, then tried to take deep, calming breaths before the game officially began. It was no good getting too hyped up, as a Seeker. He needed focus; he needed zen.

“And last, but certainly not least, let’s welcome our Chasers, Quentin Kowalski, Arsenia Gonzales, and Mercy Wardwell!” If anything, the cheering only got louder. Minho squared his shoulders, his eyes on the back of Mercy’s head as she flew up to greet the Holyhead captain in the center. They shook hands, some words were exchanged, and flew apart to wait for the Quaffle to be released.

Minho leaned forward, his heart racing. One of the referees was crossing the snow-covered pitch, kneeling before the chest in the center. The music from the announcer’s stand changed now, to a single electric guitar doing gradually building runs punctuated by a beating of drums as the Bludgers, then the Snitch was released. The referee lifted the Quaffle, the music building even more as he spun it on his finger and tossed it up between Mercy and Penelope.

“Wood gets possession,” Gerald said, and Minho took himself even higher, shivering a little as he surveyed the pitch. On Mercy’s orders, he was to wait until they were two hundred points up before he caught the Snitch, so their place in the World Cup playoffs would be practically secured. He’d have to distract MacFarlan until then, provided that they wouldn’t get slaughtered by the Harpies.

He was to use his discretion, according to Mercy. Which, as he circled the pitch now, evading the chaos of the play, he was willing to do. The game Snitches for professional matches were even more evasive and flighty than the ones at school matches. Which made total sense.

His head bobbed in time with the blaring music, and he swayed a little as he flew around. It didn’t distract him from MacFarlan, who was also watching him from across the pitch. “Ten points to the Eagles!” Minho glanced away from the other Seeker to find his fellow teammates celebrating.

Grinning, Minho dipped down and flew a bit closer to the stands. He pointed at a section, most of whom cheered a bit louder and waved at him. “Are you ready?” he yelled, waving his free hand at them, then he counted down from three, two, one…

They sat then immediately stood again, throwing their arms into the air, creating a wave as Minho started to fly. The next section of the stands was ready for him as he approached, and he started to pick up speed, carrying the wave around the stadium twice before he darted away from the stands with a laugh. It was one of his favorite things about being the Seeker, having the time to be able to interact with and hype up the crowd. Not that he had ever done that at Hogwarts when he was Seeker.

He stopped before the family box, once again finding Kibum in the crowd of faces. Though he barely smiled, his eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Olivier, now Wood, Abbott again -- "

Right, right...time to focus.

MacFarlan was still zooming around, no doubt biding her time like Minho was doing. What was the score again? The teeming mass of robes and limbs and broomsticks drew ever closer to the posts that Susan was defending. Gerald’s voice rang throughout the pitch, speeding up with his excitement when -- "Oh! Gonzales stole it right out of Olivier's hand. Dodges the Bludger…"

Arsenia was hurtling down the pitch, her robes billowing behind her. She tossed the Quaffle ahead as she dove down, throwing the Harpies off the Quaffle’s trail for a second, and it was immediately snatched up by a swooping Quentin. He sped toward the goalposts, Thickey perched to defend. He feinted a toss to the left and she lunged for it, but he actually dropped the Quaffle. It was caught by Mercy coming up from behind, and she tossed it into the free hoop on the right.

“Thirty-ten, Eagles in the lead!”

The snow fell even harder as the game wore on, making searching for the Snitch even harder than usual. "Have you spotted it yet?" Mercy asked as she shivered in the blast of warm air that Quentin was warming their hands with his wand during a timeout called by the Harpies.

Minho shook his head, flakes of unmelted snow falling from his hair. "It's really evasive this time."

She grunted, then glanced around at the team. "I say just end it as soon as you can."

"I think I want to go curl up in my fire at home," Pringle said absently, his gaze unfocused.

"I think you mean by your fire."

"I said what I said."

Minho sniffed a laugh, then rubbed his numb nose on his sleeve. "I'll try to make it quick, sorry guys."

When the whistle blew, they were back up in the air again, colder now without the respite of Quentin's warm air. Minho shivered, scanning the snow-flecked air around him. Even with everything being a drab gray, he thought that the Snitch would have been more visible. He glanced at MacFarlan as she flew overhead, then looked over at the family box as he drifted past. He found Kibum as easily as if a beacon were shining on him.

Kibum tapped his watch-less wrist, gesturing for Minho to hurry it up. Minho snorted, nodding with a smile, and turned back toward the game.

Just as he was reorienting himself, MacFarlan was diving. He perked up, his gaze sharpening as he searched below the play.

There it was. The Snitch. Flitting aimlessly around the Chasers.

He gripped his broom tighter and he shot across the pitch, diving into the play. Everything but the Snitch was a blur. There was not a trace of Gerald's excited commentary or the cheers of the crowd in his ears. Just the whistling wind and the whipping of his robes.

He was almost there...just a little further...

There there was pain, like he'd never experienced. It radiated from his leg as his hand closed around the Snitch. He barely registered the Bludger zooming away from his thigh. His head swam, his vision blurred as he tumbled off of his broom.

An unnatural hush went over the now-distant crowd, his ears ringing as he fell down, down, down with the snow. He landed, however lightly, in a berm, his whole body going numb.

His name was being called, the voices indistinct, hollow. He struggled to keep his eyes open as stars and faces flooded his vision.

There were others. So many others. He couldn't focus. He couldn't breathe. It hurt too much. Someone. Someone had to help him. Who could help him?

Hands were on him, their touch on his leg, his arms, his face feather-light. Someone was shouting for a healer. Yes. A healer could help.

For a second, he faded, melting into the snow. Letting the cold swallow him whole. Then, another pair of hands found him. Warm hands. Gentle hands. Closing over the hand clutching the Snitch.

"You're gonna be okay, Minho." The voice was soft, yet it still eradicated the cold. Brought back his focus, if only barely. Minho barely opened his eyes, trying to find the source. "You'll be okay."

Minho relaxed, letting his head sink into the snow.

He was gonna be okay. He was safe, now.

His eyes slipped closed again, and he succumbed to the enveloping darkness.

* * * * * * * * * *

"He's out again."

"Is it fractured?"

"I think so, yes. We'll take him in with a side-along."

"Sir. Sir, you have to let go of him. Sir?"

Kibum stirred, tearing his gaze away from Minho's slackened face. "He's gonna be fine, right?"

"He will be if you let go. We have to take him -- "

Kibum gulped, holding Minho's cold hand even harder. "I can't leave him. Please, don't make me leave him. Please."

"Sir, you have to let go."

Hands covered his, prying them away from Minho's. "Come on, Kibum," Jonghyun's voice was quiet in his ear as he held him back. "You've got to let them do their job." Kibum struggled against him as the healers raised their wands, wordlessly, gently lifting Minho out of the snow. They guided him to the nearby stretcher, Jonghyun's arms tightening around him as they grabbed either end of the stretcher, and in an instant, winked out of existence.

He clutched at Jonghyun's hand on his chest, his eyes burning with tears that refused to come.

"It's all my fault," he whispered, staring at the spot where Minho and the healers had disappeared.

"No, it's not."

Jonghyun sounded so sure. How? How could he? It was his fault. He shouldn't have drawn attention to himself. Shouldn't have distracted him. Maybe he shouldn't have even come. That was it. He should have waited for him to get home.

They could have talked then.

But the game. Minho would have been so hurt if he had missed the game.

"It's my fault."

"Hey!" Jonghyun called out, his voice louder than Kibum had been expecting it to be. "Where are they taking him?"

"Paeon's House of Healing," one of the players said. Kibum couldn't focus on which one. "I'm heading there now." It was Mercy. She stepped into Kibum's line of sight, and he blinked, looking up to meet her gaze. "Do you want me to take you? I know where it is."

"Yes. Please."

Slowly, Jonghyun released him, his hands lingering on Kibum's arms. "I'll be there in a bit with Minseok."

Kibum may have nodded; he couldn't tell. Or remember. He just grabbed onto Mercy's arm before she the spot. The stadium vanished, the dingy gray of the sky and the vibrant reds and blues of the surrounding stadium shredding and twisting around them, transposing to a too-clean white.

"Just wait here," Mercy said, guiding him over to one of the waiting room seats. "I'll go check on his condition."

Just wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Why was he always waiting for people he loved in ing hospitals?

His knee bounced violently as he sat, staring through Mercy where she stood at the help desk. He couldn't sit still, he couldn't bear to. So he was up, pacing back and forth, his snow-slick shoes squeaking on the tile.

He was gonna be fine. It was just a fracture. He wasn't gonna die.

He wasn't.

It returned unbidden -- the beeping of the monitor. It rang through his mind, unnaturally loud and as steady as a heartbeat.

Kibum's hands fisted at his sides and he closed his eyes as he stopped pacing, breathing heavily.

Minho wasn't going to die.

He was being stupid. Dramatic.

It was just a fracture. He's going to be --

"Kibum?"

He whirled around, finding a windswept Minseok and Jonghyun. Kibum shook his head. "I don't know what's happening."

Minseok broke away from them, heading over to where Mercy was, and Jonghyun reached out to him. But Kibum backed away, shaking his head. He couldn't bear the thought of being touched. Not right now. He was bound to break down and start crying if he were, and no one needed to see that.

Jonghyun took his hand back, his hand in midair. "What can I get you?" Kibum shrugged and shook his head. Before he could even think of something to ask for, Minseok and Mercy backed away from the counter and made their way toward them.

"How is he?" Kibum asked, starting for them. "How bad is it?"

"They just did a quick and simple procedure to reset his femur," Minseok said, everything coming out quickly in a sigh. "It was broken in two places. He's fine. Stable. He's resting now."

"Can I see him?"

Mercy shook her head. "The healers want to wait for him to wake up before any visitors come. I…" she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'I'm gonna head back for now. Deliver the news. But I'll be back with the team soon."

Kibum nodded absently, both Minseok and Jonghyun saying goodbye before she disapparated. "Maybe we should sit?" Jonghyun asked, and Kibum could feel the weight of his gaze. He ignored him. "Ki."

"I can't. I can't stay still. I just..." He huffed, shaking his head, turning to meet Jonghyun's eye. "I just want to see him."

"I know that, but you gotta wait."

Minseok glanced over Kibum's shoulder to the nurse at the help desk, then lowered his voice, even though they were speaking Korean. "I know you two are having a bit of a rough patch right now." Kibum glared at him, and Minseok threw his hands up, placating. "He told me, alright? He asked for my advice. But that's not important. I understand being extra anxious right now, but he's gonna be alright. You need to try to calm down. For Minho."

Kibum stopped pacing, his gaze shifting back to Minseok. Then to Jonghyun. They didn't understand. Not really. No one did.

He inclined his head, staring unblinkingly at the flecked white tiles. His mess of wet footprints covered the floor. Minseok was right, though. He could begrudgingly admit that, even if it wasn't out loud. Minho was fine, and he didn't need Kibum to freak out.

He took a shuddering breath, letting it out slowly. "Some tea might be nice." Jonghyun jumped up, hurrying away.

By the time he had reached the dregs of the chamomile tea Jonghyun had brought him, Kibum was standing at the wall of windows, staring out at the snow. It was dusk, now, the lack of sun coloring the world blue. Snow still fell, harder than before. Minho's team members sat at the far end of the waiting room with Minseok, Felicity, and the kids. Dominic and Winifred were being entertained by Pringle and Lucas, though what they were doing, Kibum couldn't tell from here.

Jonghyun sat curled up in the armchair beside him, asleep. His eyes burned as his exhaustion was settling in, his legs tingling from being tense and on his feet for so long. But he still was too agitated and antsy to sit.

He was calmer, at least. So there was that.

A reflection of movement from behind him caught his eye. The nurse from behind the desk got up to speak to someone in the group waiting for Minho. Kibum whirled around, feeling for Jonghyun's shoulder and shaking it before he crossed the room.

"He's awake now," she was saying as Kibum drew nearer, Jonghyun a few drowsy steps behind him. "Still a bit groggy, though. You can't visit for long, but if his family wants to see him now, that's okay." Kibum turned to Minseok, finding him watching him. He nodded, then stood, and together they followed the nurse to the elevator. "Third floor," she said, holding the door open for them to get on. "Room 328."

"Thank you," Minseok said, and the doors slid closed, and the lift took them up. He followed Minseok to the room, his heart hammering in his ears as he stopped in front of the door. "Do you want to go first?"

Kibum hesitated, then shook his head. Minseok gave him the slightest nod, then opened the door. After peeking inside the warmly lit room, Kibum stepped in after him, closing the door behind him.

Calling Minho "groggy" had been a bit of an understatement. His eyes drooped so much that he could barely tell that they were open at all, aside from the occasional blinking. His head, which had been lolling back against his pillow, now lifted, a lethargic grin splitting his face as Minseok and Kibum drew nearer.

His gaze held Kibum's as he stopped beside his bed, his hand twitching as Kibum's fingers brushed his. He gave him a curious look, then looked at Minseok. "Am I dreaming?"

Minseok, who was struggling not to smile, shook his head.

Minho looked back at Kibum, squinting up at him. "Did the doctor send you in here?"

"Uh, no. I've been waiting for you to wake up."

That seemed to confuse Minho. He looked back at Minseok and raised his hand to clumsily cover his mouth. "He's the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen," he said in an amusing attempt at a whisper. "Who is he?"

Kibum coughed a little laugh, tension seeping from him as he sank into the chair by Minho's bed.

"He's your boyfriend, Minho."

"Mine?" His eyes blew wide, his hand splaying dramatically on his chest as he looked at Kibum. "We're together?" Kibum nodded, smiling now. "Have we kissed yet?"

Kibum bit his lip to keep from laughing outright. "A few times."

"I don't think it was enough times."

He couldn't help it; he chuckled.

"I'll let you two be alone for now," Minseok said, coming around to Minho’s other side. “Glad to see you’re doing okay, . I’ll see you in the morning?” Minho nodded, and Minseok smiled. “Good night, then.”

As the door closed, Kibum looked back at Minho, who was staring at him openly. "Have we said 'I love you' yet?" Smiling, Kibum nodded as his gaze darted down to Minho's hand. "How did I get so lucky?"

"You know," Kibum said, trying not to laugh. "I think I should ask the healers for the recipe of whatever potion they gave you to make you like this."

Minho just stared at him, blinking slowly. "I like your voice very much."

"Thank you."

"I could listen to you talk for...forever."

Kibum smiled despite himself, his head shaking a little. "How are you feeling?" he asked when it looked like Minho was about to speak again.

"Dunno."

"I should probably go, then. You need your rest.” But when Kibum made to stand, Minho grabbed Kibum's hand. "I don't think I can stay, Min."

"Why?" Kibum shook his head and started to shrug, but Minho was too busy trying to make their fingers interlock to pay any attention to him. Kibum helped him, once again sitting in the seat beside him. "Please, don't go," he said, sounding almost lucid.

Kibum's heart stuttered, and he pressed a kiss to the back of Minho's hand when he met his sleepy gaze. "Okay, I won't."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Soft sunlight filled the strange room as Minho barely opened his eyes. Before he could fully register where he was, he became aware of the throbbing ache in his thigh. He looked down, distracted then by the sight of Kibum’s head resting on his hospital bed. He was stretched out, no doubt uncomfortably, from the chair right beside his bed.

His hands were clasped around Minho’s, and he was fast asleep.

Minho stared at him as his brain became less fuzzy, taking in the way his nose sloped, and the winter-faded freckles adorned his face. At the familiar gray cardigan draped around him, the one Minho had gotten him winters ago in Hogsmeade. He rested his free hand on Kibum’s head, caressing his hair. Though, maybe not as gently as he had hoped, because Kibum’s eyes quickly opened.

He sat up, the imprint of their joined hands red on his cheek. “You stayed,” Minho said, his whisper raspy from sleep.

“Of course I did. No, don’t sit up,” he said when Minho attempted to, wincing. “Just stay still.”

“I’m fine, Bum.”

“Just let me fuss over you, goddammit.” Minho, chuckling now, stilled and looked back at Kibum. Holding his gaze. Kibum sighed, his grip on Minho's hand tightening for a few seconds. "How are you feeling?" Minho shrugged. Nothing was too bad quite yet. He wasn't awake enough for that. “If it’s not too much for you right now, I...I’d like to talk. If you’re not feeling up to it, that’s o -- “

“No, please...please, can we?”

Kibum started to smile, his dimples starting to appear, though not quite all the way. The sight of them brightened the room more than the sun could ever dream of doing. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Cocoa? I’ll confund a healer to let me get you whatever the you want.”

Minho laughed. “Just water is okay.”

Kibum lifted their hands, turning them so he could kiss Minho’s knuckles before he released his hand. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll try to resist the urge.”

Though he seemed to want to linger, Kibum swept out of the room, closing the door behind him. Minho couldn’t look away from it, He just stared in tense anticipation at the door, waiting for Kibum to return. But when the door opened again, it wasn’t Kibum who entered.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Sterling Talpin, the healer who had been in charge of his operation yesterday, asked as she closed the door behind her.

“Very sore.”

“That’s quite understandable. I just ran into your...boyfriend?” Minho nodded, and she continued. “In the hall. He told me you were awake.”

“Ah.”

“Are you in the right mindset to hear about your condition, or would you rather I hold off for now?”

Well, that was sure ominous. But, why would he want to delay the inevitable? “Now is fine.”

She took the seat that Kibum had vacated, her hands clasping in her lap. “As you know, you fractured your femur in two places yesterday afternoon.” Minho nodded. “We were able to reconnect the fragments, but even with magic, there is a recovery period. It’s just your body’s response to the trauma.”

“Right.”

“So, that means that, depending on how quickly you’re able to get back on your feet and how diligent you are with the physical therapy regimen that we’ll discuss before you leave, you could be unable to play Quidditch for about six months. And even then, it’s recommended that you be gentle with yourself.”

“Six months?” She nodded, and he let out a low whistle. “Did you let Mercy know?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did she say?”

“That your health comes first. And that you can talk about your options later.”

“Okay.”

The door creaked open, revealing a wide-eyed Kibum, who was holding two cups. “Oh, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sterling said, getting up. “Someone will be back with your breakfast in about an hour, Mr. Choi.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Kibum and Sterling crossed paths as they switched places, Kibum’s eyes still on her until the door closed behind her. “Is everything okay?” he asked as he finally looked back at Minho when he passed him his cup of water.

“She just said that I won’t be able to play Quidditch for a few months while this heals.”

Kibum tensed in his seat, watching him. “Are you okay with that?”

Minho chuckled, twisting his cup in his hands. “Well, right now I’m not feeling too fond of Quidditch, so I’m fine.” Kibum relaxed in his seat with a sigh, and Minho’s eyebrow rose in question. “Why? Did you think I’d want to be back on a broom immediately after I leave the hospital?”

“I mean, that was a possibility. Remember when you got that concussion?” Minho’s smile started to fall as he nodded. “Your passion for Quidditch is incredible, honestly, but sometimes it really stresses me out,” he added with an airy chuckle, but then brushed the conversation aside with a wave of his hand before Minho could respond. “But, anyways…”

“You said you wanted to talk.”

He gulped, meeting Minho’s gaze for several silent seconds. “I did. I do.”

Minho set aside his water and held his hand out for Kibum to slip his into. When he did, Minho closed his hand around Kibum’s. “I just wanted to tell you that...that I’m truly sorry. I shouldn’t have even brought the subject up. And I shouldn’t have pushed you when you clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”

“And, I’m sorry,” Kibum said, his voice quiet. “I should have been more open. Afterward, you know. I...I was just worried that...that you’d resent me for not giving you the family you want.” His voice grew thick and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. "And, I thought maybe that I wasn't enough for you anymore."

“Bum…You've always been enough for me."

He blinked, looking up and away as he laughed, no doubt trying to keep his tears at bay. “I feel so stupid now...but" -- He heaved a heavy sigh. -- "I was even considering giving in, just so that we could go back to how we were. So we wouldn't have to break up."

"Please, sweetheart -- " Minho gulped and squeezed his hand, and Kibum turned his red-rimmed gaze to him, sniffing. “We’re partners. Equal partners. I don’t want you to feel like you have to cave to something just because I want something when you don’t. And...and having kids is a huge commitment. I understand that, fully, so I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to commit to something like that just for me.”

“Okay.”

"I know I can be a bit passionate at times." Kibum sniffed a laugh, his dimples fully appearing this time. Minho could almost hear his heart singing at the sight. "But, please, promise me that you won't let me pressure you into anything like that." Kibum nodded, taking a shuddering breath.

Minho brought his other hand around, sticking out his pinky. With a small smile, Kibum linked their pinkies and pressed their thumbs together. “That’s legally binding,” Minho said, making Kibum chuckle. He leaned forward, lightly cupping Kibum's cheek as he swiped away his tears. "And I'm sorry for making you cry."

He shook his head with a small laugh. "It's been building up for a while. Feels good to get it out."

"Still." Minho brushed his cheek with his thumb again, even though there was no tear there.

Kibum closed his eyes as he leaned into the touch. "I missed you so much," he whispered. "I know you were right there, but…"

"I know. I'm sorry." Kibum his lips and opened his eyes, meeting Minho's gaze. "How about we just not argue like that again?"

Kibum started to smile, his eyes finding Minho again. "Yeah, I think we can manage that."

Minho allowed his gaze to caress Kibum's face, to linger on his lips. He looked up when Kibum's smile grew, his eyebrows shooting up quickly in silent question.

Kibum smiled as he huffed an exasperated sigh. "You're too much sometimes," he said, shaking his head as he moved from the chair to the edge of Minho's bed, his hands cupping Minho's face as he drew him in for a kiss.

As many times as they had kissed before -- and would hopefully kiss after -- nothing could or ever would compare to this. He just knew it. Waves of relief, happiness, and the sense of coming home after a long time away crashed over him as he pulled Kibum as close as he could.

Kibum was being extraordinarily gentle with him. With the way he was cupping his face and how he was trying to create distance between them. Probably so that Minho didn't strain his leg. But he couldn't care less about his leg. Not right now. Not while Kibum was back in his arms after so long.

Kibum broke the kiss but didn't move away. Instead, he started kissing his cheeks, then along his jaw. Slowly, almost reverently.

Neither seemed to want to let go of the other, and Minho was quite alright with that.

“You were really going to say you were okay with adopting?”

Kibum nodded, his nose brushing his cheek as he sat back up, then kissed him on the lips again, though briefly. "I really didn't want to break up with you." Minho squinted, his mind whirring and smile growing as he sat back against his pillow. Kibum looked increasingly confused as he sat back too, though his hands didn't leave Minho. “What?”

“I think...I just thought of a compromise.”

"Oh?" His brow furrowed as he searched Minho's expression. “What is it?”

Minho grinned.

- - - - - - - - - -

- January 22, 2018 -

“Babe, do you need me to bring you your crutches?”

“No, I’ll be right down!”

Kibum slipped on his coat and grabbed Minho’s, glancing up the stairs when excited yips sounded from their bedroom. He could hear Minho talking to Comme Des and Garcons, the puppies they had adopted a week after Minho’s got home from Paeon’s House of Healing. The barking grew louder, and Minho’s voice went higher still as he hyped them up for their walk. After he slung Minho’s coat over his arm, he grabbed their leashes, the jingling calling them downstairs.

“Hey, not fair.”

Kibum sniffed a laugh. “Just get down here already.”

He appeared a second later beside him, Kibum immediately reaching out to steady him so he could slip on his coat. A flash of gold flew past him, darting back and forth behind Minho’s head. Kibum gave the Snitch a look, and Minho’s eyebrows shot up as he settled onto his crutches. “What? The kids love chasing it.”

He glanced down at the red and black poodles sitting at their feet, both pairs of eyes on the hovering Snitch. It was their favorite of all the toys they and Jonghyun had bought for them.

“Yes, well, put it away until we get to the park, at the very least.” Minho smirked and finished pulling on his gloves before he stuck it into his coat pocket. “Thank you,” he said, shaking his head with a small smile at Minho’s amused expression. Then he crouched before the puppies, who started bouncing up to him in greeting, their tails wagging excitedly now that he was down on their level. “You wanna go for a walk? A walk?” he asked, slipping into the baby talk that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from using every time he talked to them.

As excited as they were, it made it all the more difficult to put leashes on them. But that was okay. They were cute, so they got a pass. As soon as he was able to, though, he slipped the loops of their leashes around his wrist, grabbed his wand, and held the door open for Minho and the puppies to step outside first before he closed the door behind them all. He swiped his wand before them, clearing the snow and ice for a few steps before them so that Minho wouldn’t have to worry about his crutches slipping, and they were off.

“It feels good to be out of the house,” Minho said, taking a deep breath of the chilly air.

“You say that as if we don’t do this every day.”

“It’s still nice, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

The puppies scampered before them, as far as their leashes would allow. Comme Des kept getting distracted with trying to eat the snow while Garcons was pulling on his lead, eager to get to the park. Kibum swished his wand again, clearing more snow.

Even with the changes that came with Minho’s injury, things had returned to normal between them. The tension that had become nearly unbearable was now simply a distant, terrible memory. For Kibum’s part, he hoped it stayed that way indefinitely. He cleared a bit more snow, glancing over at Minho when he coughed.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he said, his eyes on the puppies. Kibum hummed in question and he continued, “I don’t think I should continue playing Quidditch.”

Kibum blinked rapidly, and Minho started to smile. “Is it just because of your leg?”

“No...it was something you said back at Paeon’s. About it stressing you out.”

“Oh, Min, I didn’t mean that you needed to stop playing because of that.”

Minho sighed. “No, I know. But...I mean, who’s to say that this won’t happen again? Quidditch can be brutal, I know that given all the injuries I’ve gotten.” His brow furrowed and he stopped, looking down at the ground. Kibum followed his gaze, realizing then that he had been so distracted he had forgotten to clear the snow. He did so, and Minho started forward again.

“But you love Quidditch.”

“Yes, but I love you so much more.” Kibum’s eyebrows shot up, his mouth slightly agape, which made Minho smile again. “I don’t want to have to put you through that stress anymore if I can help it.”

“Min…” Minho turned his soft gaze to Kibum, stopping again, even though the snow was cleared, to dry the tear that had fallen down Kibum's cheek. “You keep making all these sacrifices for me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me, like you said. We’re equal partners, remember?”

“I know we are, sweetheart. But your happiness is my happiness.”

Kibum stared at him, unable to think of the right words to respond. Eventually, he asked, “Have you already told Mercy?”

“I told her that I was leaning towards that decision, but that I needed to consult with you before I gave her a firm answer.”

“I see.” Minho started forward again, Kibum aching to reach out and hold his hand, his arm. Any sort of contact, really. But that was impossible right now. “What did she say?”

“That she would respect whatever decision I came to. And that Darius is back in town now, so…”

“So, the position would be filled?”

“Mhm.”

The puppies started tugging on the leash even more as they reached the pathway leading into the park. Kibum crouched down, letting them off their leads while Minho took the Snitch, letting it zoom out of his gloved hand. It darted down, into the puppies’ line of sight, taunting them by flitting away. Kibum smiled as he stood, watching them bark and run after it.

“I was thinking I could go back to Stein’s. Work on refurbishing brooms again.”

“Yeah?”

“It was pretty fun, actually.”

“And you’re very good at it.” Minho smiled shyly at the snow, and Kibum swished more of it away. “As long as you’re sure you won’t regret this decision, then I support you. Of course.”

“Thank you.”

There was more that Kibum felt like he could or should say. But Minho hobbled forward again, changing his path and starting for the nearby gazebo. Kibum hurried to eradicate the snow for him, his hand outstretched to catch him in case he slipped on the exposed grass. He relaxed as soon as they were inside the gazebo since there was no snow inside. Sighing, Minho leaned against the banister and set his crutches aside, watching the Snitch as it stayed out of the puppies’ way.

“Are your arms hurting again?”

Minho looked over at him as Kibum stood beside him, absently working the glove off his right hand, then his left. “Yeah. Crutches are irritating.”

“Only one more week to go, love.”

“Can’t ing wait.” Kibum sniffed a laugh. “Although, as much as I love just sitting on my all day, unable to do anything even remotely active -- “

“Yes, you live for that.”

Minho smiled, stuffing his gloves into his coat pocket. “It has given me a lot of time to think.”

“Not just about Quidditch?”

He shook his head, then glanced over at the puppies again before returning his attention to Kibum. “I’ve been thinking about us. And the life we’ve built together. How happy we are, and how much we’ve grown since we first met. How lucky I was that you were so kind then, and now.” Kibum smiled fondly when Minho took his hand. “I can’t even imagine how much different my life would be if you weren’t in it. But then,” he chuckled. “Why would I want to? You’re my best friend, my partner. The love of my life. And -- “

Garcons’ bark drew a bit nearer, and Minho turned, finding the Snitch zipping toward them. Out of habit, he reached out with his free hand, catching it as the puppies tumbled into the gazebo. They both panted heavily as they sat at their feet, their puffy little tails swishing against the cement as they watched Minho fiddle with the Snitch.

He smiled down at them, his brow furrowing a little. “I know I’m rambling, but...but what I’m trying to say is…” Minho cleared his throat, meeting Kibum’s curious gaze. “I can’t do this properly right now because of my leg, but I couldn't wait any longer. Kibum…”

Kibum looked at him quizzically, then down at his hands when he held out the Snitch to him. His mouth fell slightly open at the opaline ring hiding inside. His gaze immediately flicked up to meet Minho’s again, finding him smiling.

“Will you marry me?”

He couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe. The only thing he could think to do right now was to pull Minho close, to hug him as tightly as he could. Kibum buried his face in Minho’s neck as Minho’s free arm wrapped around him.

He had been worried. He could admit that now. That Minho wouldn’t want to propose anymore after what he had impulsively said during their argument. But now he had. And that in itself was more than Kibum could have ever hoped for.

Kibum pulled away, ripping off his glove and tossing it aside. It landed near the puppies, and Comme Des immediately grabbed it and ran off with it, Garcons on his heels. He held his hand out to Minho, who fumbled with the Snitch, his hands shaking a little as he dumped the ring out of its cavity and slipped it onto Kibum’s finger.

It was beautiful. More beautiful than he dreamed it would be. He looked up again, his eyes no doubt shining with tears, then cupped Minho’s face in his hands and went up on his tiptoes to kiss him.

They were going to be married.

If he could, he would go back in time and tell the scared little fourth-year Kibum, who was trying so hard to convince himself that he didn’t actually like like Minho, that it was okay. That things would turn out just fine. That he was going to be so unbelievably and completely happy with Minho by his side, as long as they both shall live.

Minho held him close, even after Kibum broke the kiss. “I’m assuming that’s a yes, then,” he said, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes.

Kibum tried to school his expression -- a gargantuan feat -- to one of mild confusion. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“No ing clue.”

Kibum laughed, he couldn’t help it.

Maybe someday, in the distant future, he’d stop feeling as if he were about to burst from the sheer magnitude of his happiness. But as Minho kissed him again, Kibum doubted that day would come anytime soon.

If ever.