- 2/2 -
Plasterpart two
For the first time since the start of their friendship, Minhyuk has nothing to say.
The jokes and snark remarks have ceased. His endless chatter has disappeared. Conversations at the dinner table fall short and the bedroom he shares with Hyungwon is a constant chasm of empty silence.
The turbulence between them is unbearable for Hyungwon, so he avoids Minhyuk as much as possible, leaving any room they’re in together as soon as he can, avoiding mealtimes, taking extra long showers, and staying out late at the studio to avoid trips home together. He’s barely seen and hasn’t spoken to Minhyuk in days. Minhyuk’s unprecedented muteness, combined with his lack of incessant shadowing of Hyungwon day in and day out, has almost made Hyungwon forget who his best friend is.
He comes home late, three in the morning late, after an evening of pre-recording for a television broadcast. Long days have gone from tiring to cripplingly exhausting, and Hyungwon struggles to keep his eyes open by the time they reach their end. He forcefully scrubs the makeup from his face and hauls himself through a hot shower, avoiding eye contact with the mirror, ashamed to face the hollow skeleton living in his reflection.
Shrouded in oversized pyjamas, he drags himself to the bedroom and reaches for the doorknob, but the door swings open just as he secures his grasp.
It’s just a little bit appeasing, but a lot more heartbreaking, to find out that his unfamiliar best friend really hasn’t changed at all.
Both with their hands still on the handle, Minhyuk and Hyungwon stand on opposite ends of the doorway, staring in dumbstruck silence. Hyungwon looks at Minhyuk’s glamorous, smoothed-back hair, his sleek shirt, tight pants and the sultry red tint on his glossy lips. Minhyuk takes in Hyungwon’s dishevelled hair and the deep black shadows under his dull eyes that look back at him, meeting his gaze yet somehow staring far into the distance all at once. His noticeable weight loss has sunken his face in, gaunt cheeks and grey skin so easily hidden with dustings of blush and a plaster smile that he’s practised wearing both on- and off-camera for so many years. Bare-faced and barely alive, his hollowed features are fully present, their lifelessness no less than confronting.
They stand and watch one another for longer than necessary. Minhyuk’s mind works in overdrive, his tongue in knots again, clambering for coherency – but he’s too late; Hyungwon has already broken away and walked past him, into the bedroom.
Minhyuk remains suspended in place, eyes still focused on the empty space in front of him that Hyungwon has left behind. His phone buzzes in his back pocket, a reminder of the dwindling time leading up to his date, but he feels Hyungwon’s presence in the room, he hears the thump of his body as he hits the bed, he envisions him throwing the blankets over his head and turning to stare all night at the wall until he falls into slumber. The slightest part of Minhyuk wonders if he should just forget the night ahead of him and turn back to try and fix what he’s broken, but he knows he won’t be able to find the right words to say, so he straightens his shoulders instead, and leaves.
The relentless flashes of fluorescent pixels and rhythmic controller clicks has always been somewhat therapeutic to Minhyuk. A safe and reliable escape into another world, an outlet for bottled up frustrations without consequences, without risk of hurting others, a single press of a button to wipe out his mistakes and start all over again.
The turn in his lips and the creases in his forehead deepen slowly into a hardening scowl as his mind runs rampant. The sag in Hyungwon’s shoulders, the glistening pain in Hyungwon’s eyes, the sharpness in Hyungwon’s tone, piercing Minhyuk all over, like needles lining all of his edges. Minhyuk slams an orchestra of buttons and watches it manifest into vicious massacre, bitterly wondering how he always manages to turn careless actions into blood-soaked suffering.
“You’re about to break that controller.”
Minhyuk jolts from his ruminating trance and looks up at Changkyun, standing beside him in his favourite bright red underwear, arms folded across his bare chest, focus aimed at the screen. Studs of water drip from Changkyun’s hair and Minhyuk is struck by a chilling sense of déjà-vu, knowing he’s been here before, but this time it’s colder and lonelier without Hyungwon by his side. Lips pressed, Minhyuk turns back to the screen and wordlessly resumes playing, leaving Changkyun’s comment unacknowledged.
Seemingly unaware of the tension emanating from Minhyuk, Changkyun collapses on the couch beside him, kicking his legs up on the coffee table in front of them.
“Where’s Hyungwon?”
Minhyuk’s gaze remains firmly on the screen before him, his fingers pushing on the buttons with a little more aggression. “Don’t know.”
Changkyun stares at him hard, crossing his arms again, and Minhyuk continues to avoid his scrutinising glare despite finding it increasingly more difficult to focus on the game before him.
“Seriously, did you two fight? You’ve been acting so off lately.”
Minhyuk stares blankly at the screen, clueless as to how to reply. Normally an untruthful response would roll off his tongue without trouble, but the instinctual “no” remains lodged in his throat, held in place by the guilty memories of their altercation that have unrelentingly haunted him since its occurrence.
The waver in Hyungwon’s voice, the droop of his lips, the way his beautiful features hung from his face as if they’d been broken to pieces and sloppily stuck back on again. It all rings clear and constant in Minhyuk’s head, menacing and patronizing, consuming him to the point of incapacity.
“Hello? Anyone home?” Changkyun waves a hand in front of Minhyuk’s glassy eyes, snapping him from his daze, and he realises his hands on the controller have stopped moving and the screen flashes with messages of defeat.
“Huh?”
“You at this game. Can we play a round together?”
Minhyuk blinks unresponsively at the radiant, oblivious look of excitement on Changkyun’s face. He finds it eerily familiar, recalling the same scene playing out on the same couch, lodged between Hyungwon and Changkyun in his red underwear. At the time, he hadn’t thought twice about how Hyungwon seemed so uncomfortable. Realising how tormented Hyungwon must have been feeling – how all along, and all alone, he had endured it silently – opens a roaring pit of guilt in Minhyuk’s stomach that makes him ill.
Scrambling for a controller, Changkyun has clearly forgotten about Hyungwon’s absence and moved on, but Minhyuk remains stuck in the loop of woeful reminiscence, far too deep in to bother trying to hide it.
He stands up quickly, taking Changkyun by surprise.
“I’m not in the mood.”
He turns and strides out of the room without a second glance, Changkyun’s bewildered gaze trailing behind him.
Minhyuk’s evenings are no less busy than usual, but returning home to a silent bedroom has made his nights seem substantially emptier.
Hyungwon is always there in his usual spot, his back turned to Minhyuk’s side of the room, and even though he’s just a few steps away, Minhyuk feels horribly alone. The absence of their usual nightly conversations drains whatever liveliness remains from his nights out, and he finds himself falling into bed exhausted and unfulfilled every single time, because trying to seek the same gratification elsewhere is pointless, anyway.
Minhyuk lies wide awake, studying the rise and fall of Hyungwon’s shoulders, a gentle rhythm he’s come to know so well. His mind is reeling, and he despises how the few metres that separate them feels like an endless ravine of bitterness, hurt and misunderstanding. Somehow, even on this warm autumn night, even under so many layers of blankets, he still feels so cold.
All he can think of is how desperately he wants to close the distance between them, lie beside Hyungwon the way they used to back when they would stay up all night talking as if time didn’t exist, pull Hyungwon into his arms because nobody fit better in them than he did. Telling his tales to the other members doesn’t give Minhyuk the same satisfaction as it seemed to with Hyungwon, and perhaps it never did. Maybe it was just the feeling of being next to Hyungwon, in the safe space that was only theirs, that ever mattered.
Despite all the girls he’s had on his body and all the years of cycling through love and lust and loss, nothing ever felt as right as having Hyungwon beside him, and he knows from the way he’s suffered that Hyungwon has always felt the same way, too.
He feels his heart twist and pull as he ropes himself up in the realisation, knowing that Hyungwon had spent so many years enduring his unseen pain in fear of losing their friendship – but in the end, Minhyuk himself was the one to ruin it all.
Peaceful but eerie, floating in limbo, the still hours in the middle of night when the rest of the world sleeps, is when Hyungwon’s body loves to play with his sleep-wake hormones and prevent him from slumber.
He used to think it was only habit, an adaptive response to being woken up every night, his body learning from the consistent disturbances that sleep was a pointless endeavour.
But it’s been weeks, and Minhyuk hasn’t come barging in at two in the morning, blaring voice, full of energy. Minhyuk hasn’t been noisy and careless, he’s stopped tossing his belongings across the room and stopped throwing himself on top of Hyungwon to greet him, and Hyungwon hasn’t heard a single recital of where he’s been and whose bedsheets he’s untangled himself from.
Instead Minhyuk lumbers heavily into their room, as if the weight of the world drags him down, and he tosses and turns in wretched silence for as long as Hyungwon can stay awake for. It’s quiet enough for Hyungwon to sleep, but he only finds it harder to settle down, and even when he does his sleep is restless and unrewarding.
Hyungwon has never seen Minhyuk in this state before. Minhyuk is seldom to experience misery, but what’s more troubling is how prolonged this unlikely despondency has become. An air of gloom hangs about him that he dusts away so easily around everyone else, but it seeps through the cracks when Hyungwon is the only other person in the room, and it brings Hyungwon an unnerving sense of discomfort like no other.
He can tell that Minhyuk has a lot on his mind, but he’s unsure of what to make of it – Minhyuk has never been the type to dwell on and hold himself accountable to his wrongdoings, so Hyungwon stamps out any optimism that wonders maybe, just maybe, this hardship could be the interlude towards things changing for the better.
In place of the glimmer of hope, Hyungwon feels a deep and despairing emptiness at the thought of their friendship being irreparable. He swamps himself with speculations and guesses about what could have been, if didn’t feel this way, if he had just tried a little harder to hide his feelings and extinguish the hurt; and he’s held down from surfacing above his ruminations by the sickening, soul crushing chance that things between them might never be okay again.
Hyungwon and Minhyuk slave through days of work while delicately concealing the unrest between them, and balancing the two makes the simplest of tasks seem so much more laborious.
Moving forward on separate sides of their rift is already difficult enough, but under their unspoken pact to hide the tension between them, maintaining an act of their regular friendship dynamic in front of the other members only makes it harder. Minhyuk still takes the seat beside Hyungwon in the car, and Hyungwon still wears Minhyuk’s jackets; they go about their days with heavy hearts but wearing façades of normalcy by doing everything side by side, because that’s what they’ve always done, and behaving otherwise would give away all the signs that something has gone wrong.
In cramped studios, squeezing seven onto couches only made to seat four, Minhyuk can’t feel anything but Hyungwon’s body against him, can’t see anything but every pore and blemish on his skin, the tremor in his hands and the whites of his knuckles as he grasps his knees the way he always does when he’s anxious. From under the canopy of his eyelashes, Minhyuk is engrossed in watching Hyungwon burrow his teeth into his bottom lip with glaring unease – his sad pout, the way it trembles as he fights to hold his broken pieces together, stringing them messily in a thin and fragile web of self-condolences and false promises of “I’m fine”. It’s excruciating, and it makes Minhyuk long for a hopeless chance to go back to Hyungwon’s last night of peace and undo everything. To stop himself before he clawed Hyungwon’s tarnished heart in half, the moment before he let his finger meet Hyungwon’s precious lips, and suddenly Minhyuk is struck with the realisation that he wants to grab Hyungwon’s cheeks and pull him in to kiss the pain better, and it halts everything within and around him and he’s tranquilised.
He freezes, he recovers, and he frantically tries to wipe the unfathomable thought from his mind and re-adjust, but the vision of Hyungwon’s face in his hands and lips against his plays on a whirring loop, over and over again, faster and faster until Minhyuk’s head is spinning.
The unthinkable image inundates him, entrances him, flooding into every gap and crevice, until Hyungwon finally looks up from catches him staring, open-mouthed and shocked. They meet eyes and Minhyuk immediately reels back and turns away, painfully swallowing back his breathlessness, unavailingly attempting to stomach the palpitations in his chest that make him nauseous.
For the first few days, Minhyuk tells himself the recurring thought is only a side effect of his reflection and lamenting process. The detachment from his closest friend and how lost he feels without him, the shock of discovering so many things about Hyungwon that were kept hidden under so many layers of secrets; Minhyuk knows the sudden blow has taken its toll and attributes his impulsive desires to its effects.
But time keeps passing, and the vision continues to haunt him. It keeps him up at night, staring at the ceiling wide awake until the sun rises and his eyes burn, his head swings and whirls in constant vertigo, he forgets everything he’s supposed to remember and starts to forget what he even knew in the first place. Every waking moment is spent hallucinating and all of his dreams become nightmares; it seeps away his sanity until he can’t take it anymore, he’s clouded by the same unfaltering desire that’s only getting bigger and Minhyuk knows he has no choice but to quash it himself.
He smothers the throbbing headache that the fantasy of Hyungwon’s lips has become by agonising over how to approach him again, having not spoken to him for an unprecedented length of time. Minhyuk ponders on several different options and runs through all the possible scenarios that could ensue, but none of them seem right, every pre-empted outcome ends up in a situation worse than what already is.
Minhyuk has never been the type to prepare for any form of confrontation or rehearse a script, because he’s never lost for words when he’s forced to improvise. He tries to adlib on the spot, hoping his natural conversational flow will take over, but each and every time he finds himself standing and staring blankly with a gaping mouth that only seems to make Hyungwon uncomfortable and push him further away.
And uncomfortable Hyungwon is, seeking a moment’s peace alone in his favourite place of refuge when Minhyuk cautiously opens the door and sidles in, seemingly insecure about his presence being unwelcome even though the bedroom is his to share, too.
He actively avoids paying any attention to Minhyuk, knowing it only takes a glance to send himself spiralling into despair, but he can’t help wondering why Minhyuk is home so early in the afternoon.
As if his mind has been read, in his peripheral vision Hyungwon can see Minhyuk approaching him, and it takes every drop of willpower in him not to visibly tense up, or turn away, or get up and run altogether the way he’s been so tempted to do over the past few weeks. Instead, when Minhyuk stops in front of him, he looks up tentatively to meet Minhyuk’s apprehensive stare, before dropping his gaze once more to the trembling hand Minhyuk has extended towards him.
“I got you a smoothie,” Minhyuk says, his voice sheepish and uneasy.
Hyungwon blinks indifferently at the plastic cup before him, indented from the pressure of Minhyuk’s nervous grasp. The brand on the label isn’t a cheap one, and Hyungwon’s lack of appetite would usually prompt an immediate rejection, but Minhyuk’s face looks so painfully pitiful and he knows the gesture is more of a peace offering than anything else, so he reluctantly takes the drink in the hopes that accepting it will alleviate at least some of their heartache.
Minhyuk remains standing at the edge of the bed, tensing his jaw and balling his now empty hand into a fist until his knuckles blanch. He starts to pull at his earlobes and tousle his hair, an uncommon but easily recognisable sign that Minhyuk is anxious, grappling with his thoughts and his feelings.
“I know you don’t want to talk to me right now,” Minhyuk says slowly. Hyungwon stares intently at the drink in his hands, afraid to look up and let Minhyuk see the trepidation in his eyes. “But…I promise…I’ve been thinking about all of this. And reflecting on myself.” Every word is carefully strung together with the next, and Minhyuk pauses to assess whether or not he’s stepped out of line. “You can tell me to shut up if I say anything wrong.”
Hyungwon huffs, a sarcastic attempt at a laugh. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”
Minhyuk sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, steadily lowering himself down onto the bed to sit beside Hyungwon, cautious of the distance between them.
“I’m serious, Hyungwon. I’m really trying.”
Hyungwon watches beads of condensation slip down the edge of the cup in his hand, pooling at his fingers. He places it on the ground beside him, and finally turns to face Minhyuk again, half in acceptance that the uncomfortable conversation is inevitable, and half out of desperate, wretched hope that Minhyuk truly is learning to stop breaking his heart over and over again.
Minhyuk’s eyes are filled with anguish, but his gaze is firm, examining the misery written across Hyungwon’s face. Somehow, Hyungwon looks sad and broken, but simultaneously empty of emotion, exhausted from being seesawed back and forth between love and hurt. He’s shattered and drained and numb, but there still remains a glimmer of painful longing in his sad eyes that Minhyuk can’t look past.
“I really miss you, Hyungwon.”
The sincere words catch themselves in a net of guilt and sorrow, and Minhyuk drops his head and stares at his hands, choking back the waver in his voice as he readies himself to speak again.
“I just…I know I wasn’t always there for you, but…I miss you. All the time. And I—I just find myself always thinking about you…”
He exhales loudly and grabs the back of his neck, exasperated at himself, frustrated that it’s so hard for him to get the words out. Hyungwon, meanwhile, hangs his head and twists and pulls on his fingers so hard that it hurts, just to bring back any sense of feeling in his body, because the rest of him is paralysed.
“I just can’t stop thinking about…you know, all of this.”
Minhyuk’s voice is just barely audible over the thrum of Hyungwon’s head as he grapples with the knowledge that Minhyuk has been tortured by all of this, too. He always knew, deep down, that Minhyuk was bothered by the detachment, but something about the way Minhyuk speaks in faltering stammers tells Hyungwon that Minhyuk really has been thinking about him far more than he’d ever expected. His vulnerability, his rawness; seeing and hearing Minhyuk in this state is brutally unfamiliar, and Hyungwon is overwhelmed knowing that the sting of separation has penetrated deep through Minhyuk’s thick skin, too.
“I should hate the idea of you having feelings for me,” Minhyuk comments. “We’re teammates. We’re best friends.” He hesitates slightly. “But for some reason…I don't. Actually, I like it. I like it a lot.”
The words plummet over Hyungwon like the drop of a cage, and he immediately looks up, dumbstruck, at Minhyuk’s wide eyes that swim with apprehension and search for reassurance.
I like it a lot.
The words fence him in, inescapable, he’s trapped in their cruel and tormenting evil as they ring in his ears.The sincerity in Minhyuk’s voice does little to mitigate the surge of fear that washes over him as he’s thrown right back into the thorny depths of Minhyuk’s thoughtlessness. Once again, Hyungwon is imprisoned by Minhyuk’s unthinking actions, another stake skewered straight through him, left to slowly bleed and fester and scar in patterns of unrequited yearning.
He gapes at Minhyuk, paralysed and suspended in time, but his mind is a raging battlefield between Minhyuk’s history of wounding him with his careless words and the counterintuitive desire to let himself believe that what Minhyuk is saying is true. His heart hammers in painful strikes against his chest, and the sound of Minhyuk’s voice echoes like a curse, but Hyungwon has to force back whatever starry-eyed fantasies come to mind, because he knows that falling from the heights of hope will only make the crash feel so much worse.
“Minhyuk, please, don’t do this,” Hyungwon begs.
Minhyuk presses his lips together and falls quiet for a few moments. He maintains eye contact, taking Hyungwon’s unrelenting stare as a sign that he can inch a little closer, just enough that their knees almost brush. He shakes his head gently in response.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Hyungwon, I promise I won’t do that anymore,” he says. “That’s why I thought about this for so long. I thought I was just being selfish, and I just liked the attention, and the idea of it all—you know, being loved. Actual love.” Minhyuk, verbose Minhyuk who always knows what to say, is visibly struggling to get his words out. “But I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m so curious.”
Hyungwon feels his entire body tremble in fear. Everything Minhyuk says makes him dizzy – he’s dreamed of having a moment like this for so long, and yet, he’s so afraid to hear more. He’s terrified of letting his guard down, terrified that Minhyuk will do something impulsive and thoughtless and tear down the shield he’s created around himself to protect his unrequited feelings from being hurt. He wants to shut the situation down before he loses himself and lets his heart take over, he tries to sway himself into believing that Minhyuk is only confused and unthinkingly taking advantage of his feelings, because he’s never been fulfilled by the meaningless one-night stands. But Minhyuk is unmoving, his gaze fond and gentle, flickering momentarily from Hyungwon’s eyes down to his trembling lips, and back up again.
Minhyuk reaches out and carefully takes Hyungwon’s hands in his own, wary of Hyungwon’s response, letting a few moments pass for him to accept the gesture.
“Can I kiss you?” Minhyuk asks quietly.
Hyungwon’s sight begins to lose focus as his light-headedness builds, but somehow still, Minhyuk is the only thing he can see. He fills his field of vision and permeates into all his senses until Hyungwon is numb, he can’t feel a thing but the touch of their hands, and the world around him dissipates until there’s nothing left but Minhyuk in front of him.
With whatever that’s left of his ability to think, Hyungwon is torn, buried under the weight of the question, knowing he needs to push Minhyuk away, because letting this happen would be like stepping into a minefield and plummeting himself to irretrievable depths. But Minhyuk’s body is so close that he can feel his warm glow on his skin, and he can’t look away from his inquisitive eyes, the irresistible lips that he’s dreamed of for so long. Hyungwon is entranced, powerless to his mesmerising, longing gaze, hopelessly incapable of thinking straight, so he does the only thing his body will let him do, and nods.
Hyungwon is visibly afraid, almost reluctant, and Minhyuk is transfixed in place, partly because he can’t tell what Hyungwon really wants, and partly in disbelief that he was given his approval in the first place. He almost wants to stop and draw back, but the mesmerisation on Hyungwon’s face overwhelms him with an unstoppable sense of desire that pulls his heart in. Before his mind has had a chance to process the feeling, his body has already moved, and he leans forward and presses his lips against Hyungwon’s.
The moment they touch, Minhyuk feels a billow in his chest, a surge that inundates his lungs, and he can’t figure out if it’s from excitement or fear or relief or something else, perhaps something more. It’s suffocating and bewildering and addicting all at once, and Minhyuk doesn’t know what to make of it, but what he’s undeniably sure of is how infatuated he is by the tender plushness of Hyungwon’s lips on his. The feeling is electrifying and exhilarating, like his long list of partners never existed and he’s kissing for the very first time.
It only lasts a few seconds, but Minhyuk is immersed in the eruption of sensations that makes it feel like so much longer, and he only realises he should pull back when he feels Hyungwon hesitate.
He breaks away tenderly but doesn’t lean back, letting his breath mist over Hyungwon’s glistening lips, just barely apart. He gazes up from under his eyelashes to assess Hyungwon’s reaction – his eyes remain shut for a few extra moments as he savours the lingering sensation, mouth slightly agape, the kiss leaving him fighting for breath.
“Is this okay?” Minhyuk breathes.
Hyungwon’s eyes flutter open, his hammering heart leaping in alarm when he sees how close Minhyuk has remained. He’s still scrabbling to grasp onto the present, the rush of euphoria leaving him entranced, head in a fog, feeling as if he’s floating in an implausible reality. Melding gazes with Minhyuk, the mistreated and bruised part of Hyungwon thinks of how dangerous the game he’s playing is and how no part of this is okay, but he feels his belly swirl when he sees there’s a look of need and desire in Minhyuk’s eyes and all of his rationality is gone. He thinks of nothing but how badly he wants to indulge in the moment one more time, to taste him again like he’s longed so much for – and he nods again.
Without hesitation, Minhyuk dips back in and kisses him again, this time a little firmer and with an edge of conviction. The hand on Hyungwon’s reaches up to cradle his cheek, caressing his smooth jaw, feeling his soft skin and the silkiness of his long curls. It’s all so familiar, welcoming and mellow – it feels so right to hold Hyungwon in his hands. Minhyuk tilts his chin up and presses forward, gently but confidently deepening the kiss, following the slow rhythm of Hyungwon’s lips and letting him settle into a comfortable tempo.
Minhyuk soaks up the thrill, enveloping the soft and plump bow of Hyungwon’s lips between his own, inebriated by the touch of Hyungwon’s skin that he’s been so deprived of. Kissing Hyungwon feels like diving into treacherous waters, caught in a storm, spiralling back into addiction – dangerous, but he’s hooked on the risk. He wants to press forward, move his hands and explore, re-discover the intricacies of Hyungwon that he always took for granted, but he knows his impulsiveness has crossed boundaries far too many times before and he forcibly reins himself in. Hyungwon is strung between fear of getting hurt and the spellbinding ecstasy of it all, but Minhyuk surfs on his emotions, and he pulls away at just the right moment before the chaos takes over and does him harm.
He breaks away with a gentle sigh and finally leans back to give Hyungwon space to recover, sliding his hand back down from Hyungwon’s face to rest over the top of his trembling fingers. He watches quietly as Hyungwon gasps for breath and fights for composure, waiting for his eyes to open again, gently the back of his hand to comfort him.
The world spins in colours of vertigo and Hyungwon’s stomach churns like he’s coming off a rollercoaster, woozy and weak in all of his limbs. Eventually it grinds to a halt, but Hyungwon still feels like he’s on a ride, so high off the ground and so far from the life he’s come to know where kissing Minhyuk was only a fleeting rarity in his dreams. Now, grappling with the sight of Minhyuk’s flushed cheeks and glossy lips, the gratification of finally being able to kiss him is drowned out by sheer disbelief.
He’s imagined this and mused over the details plenty of times before. Every night, for years, Hyungwon has thought about Minhyuk being with somebody else, and wondered what his unreachable desires looked like to all of those strangers that were fortunate enough to see it. He’s finally witnessing it himself, the intimacy and vulnerability of Minhyuk, his raw emotions and the deepness of his thoughts, and Hyungwon is left disorientated and reeling. His eyes are wide open and his stare is firm, but the more he looks, the more his mind begins to fill again with visions of Minhyuk appearing the same way in countless bedrooms, in front of so many other people, and he slowly realises that their moment of romance perhaps isn’t as special to Minhyuk as it is to him, and coming back to awareness feels like his heart is being strangled and the pain begins to seep back in.
Minhyuk notices the look of anguish emerging on Hyungwon’s face again, and gulps, fearing the worst.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Minhyuk says, echoing his vows from earlier. “I know this is…a lot. For both of us.” Hyungwon’s eyes are glazed over, and he lowers his head, shrinking away. Minhyuk’s chest swells with unease, but he continues, “I think…if we both had some time to think things through…”
Minhyuk trails off, his insecure thoughts derailed and directionless. He can feel their burden weighing him down, and the lingering echo of Hyungwon’s kiss curbs any ability for him to release them coherently. Instead, remarkably, Minhyuk decides to give up on his words, accepting that his feelings are in disarray and he’s safer letting Hyungwon take the lead.
Hyungwon stares at the floor in a helpless struggle to ground himself and stop his vision from rippling and swaying, but the resounding words won’t stop running dizzying circles in his head. Minhyuk’s hesitancy fills him with dread and makes him queasy, because he can tell the kiss has left Minhyuk in disarray and he’s still trying to work out his feelings and thoughts. Meanwhile, despite thinking it was impossible to fall any further, Hyungwon is crushed by the concrete realisation that he’s hopelessly, irreversibly, fatally in love, and he could never envisage himself loving anyone else but Minhyuk, no matter how they’re fated to end.
He feels his head move once more to nod in agreement, because his instincts know that only time can mend this mistake and settle his heart’s calamity. Despite having dreamed of this for so many years, Hyungwon could never have prepared himself for the blow, to be faced all at once by everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s ever feared.
“Let’s try and act normally from now on. The way we used to be. At least for now,” Minhyuk implores. “I don’t want us to be awkward around each other anymore. I—I don’t want to feel like I’m losing you.”
Hyungwon stares at the whites of his knuckles and the veins on the hand that clenches his knee, the grain of the floorboards, the smoothie cup that stands at his feet untouched. He can’t fathom moving on as if this had never happened, but behaving like they used to wouldn’t make a difference anyway, because the way things were before, he was still so in love, and still in so much pain.
“Hyungwon?” Minhyuk says softly, anxious for a response.
Hyungwon finally raises his heavy head to look up at him again, feeling Minhyuk gently squeeze the hand that remains under his palm.
“You’re still my best friend,” Minhyuk whispers, voice weak and trembling. “No matter what happens between us. That’s never going to change. Okay?”
Hyungwon is humiliated by the tears pooling in his eyes and the unforgiving quiver in his lips, but he can’t look away; he’s locked in by Minhyuk’s sincerity and the affection in his gaze that he’s missed so sorely. The shame is bitter, but the need for attachment wins over, so Hyungwon lets the tears fall and drops the shield he’s tired of holding in front of him.
No matter how much it cripples him, Hyungwon always succumbs to his weakness of needing the one thing that hurts him the most; because he can survive with a broken heart, but he’s nothing without his best friend.
“Okay,” Hyungwon whispers back.
Minhyuk forces a feeble smile, a futile attempt at consoling Hyungwon’s muddled and wounded heart, and takes Hyungwon into his arms for a hug. Hyungwon’s eyes flutter shut and he rests his forehead on Minhyuk’s shoulder, letting the trickles on his cheeks soak into his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent, soothed by the embrace he’s lacked and longed for. He aches in his bones and in all of his veins, and every heartbeat feels like a blunt force blow, but Hyungwon endures the pain and lets the warmth of Minhyuk cascade over him, treasuring the feeling of being comforted by his best friend, just in case this time is the last.
It takes a lot of time, and it doesn't come easy, but ever so slowly the angst begins to settle, and traces of normality come to the surface. Hyungwon eats a little more, smiles a little brighter and sleeps a little better; and Minhyuk slips back into character and returns to being the vibrant firecracker that lights up every room. They carefully let their guards down and start to open up to each other again, sharing in the little moments the way they used to – poking fun at each other for making mistakes in the dance studio, chatting comfortably in the car on the way home and gaming into the night until their eyes are red and burning. In their gloomy, foggy, murky world, a break in the clouds lets a little bit of sunshine stream through, just enough to lighten the weeks of ongoing dark.
But it’s far from perfect, and the waves of tension ebb and flow unpredictably as Hyungwon navigates his world of hurt and rebuilds his damaged foundations of trust again.
A relaxed group dinner turns from an outing into a challenge for Minhyuk, sensing an air of awkwardness between Hyungwon and himself as they find their place in adjacent seats. All day, Hyungwon has seemed a little on edge, and Minhyuk places the task upon himself to shake away Hyungwon’s agitation, knowing he’s the only person who can.
Effortlessly, Minhyuk generates a radiant energy that enlivens the entire restaurant, the members sitting around the table and repeatedly breaking into laughter as the jokes roll easily from his tongue. But despite the shoulder bumps and directed banter, Hyungwon only smiles half-heartedly along, picking at his side dishes just to give himself a reason to avoid facing the others.
Minhyuk is learning to not be obtrusive and push Hyungwon further than where he’s ready to be, so he doesn’t pry or escalate the issue, allowing Hyungwon the space to withdraw while continuing to play everything off as normal.
But as much as things have changed, and as bruised as Hyungwon is, Minhyuk is still the same Minhyuk he always has been – the same Minhyuk that knows all of his weaknesses, and the only person who knows how to dry his tears and make him smile. It takes a few tries, and they’re both down a couple of beers, but Minhyuk says something that must’ve been a lot funnier than anything else he’s said tonight, because it finally cracks Hyungwon and he lowers his head and giggles into his palm.
Getting reactions out of his group members is always fulfilling, but none more rewarding than from Hyungwon, and seeing Hyungwon’s face light up makes Minhyuk’s chest billow in delight. It’s been so long since they’ve played this game – Hyungwon being tough to give, and Minhyuk fighting through his resistant exterior – and Minhyuk has missed winning over his smiles and laughter more than he ever knew.
Propelled forward by his success, Minhyuk ramps up his act and floods the room with his loud voice and witty remarks, forgetting the rumble in his stomach and the crowd of plates in front of him. He flourishes in the warming buzz of enjoyment, and shines in beaming rays when the members erupt with laughter once again.
Smirking smugly, Minhyuk glances over at Hyungwon once again, who casts his head back and laughs from deep in his chest, leaning over to shove Minhyuk sideways. Minhyuk elbows him back and chuckles along, but the joke has slipped his mind, and the smile lingering on his face has less to do with what he just said, and more to do with the realisation that Hyungwon hasn’t laughed like this in a very, very long time.
Hyungwon ducks his head and covers his mouth again, struggling to contain himself, while settled Minhyuk wears an affectionate smile as he watches, a flutter of delight spreading through him, warm like sunshine. He tilts his head gently to get a better view of the crinkles beside Hyungwon’s eyes and the dimples in his cheeks that appear only when he grins hard enough to make them; to better hear his breathy gasps as he holds in his laughter.
Minhyuk doesn’t realise he’s staring until Hyungwon finally looks up again and meets his eyes, and he pulls back, realising that he’s slightly leaning in. He quickly looks away and immediately carries on running his mouth to play it off casually, but his stomach continues to bubble and his heart beats undeniably faster than before. He can only hope his falter went unnoticed, and that he hasn’t caused Hyungwon discomfort – though in the back of his mind, he can’t ignore the nagging hope that Hyungwon’s chest is flocked with butterflies, too.
Hyungwon is no stranger to a crowded mind, and he’s used to constantly thinking about Minhyuk, but the subject matter of his thoughts is unfamiliar, and his usual coping mechanisms aren’t braced to handle what ades his head.
Instead of his usual deliberations about how hurt he is and how deeply Minhyuk will cut into him today, Hyungwon is swamped with confusion of unprecedented intensity; wondering what’s to become of their friendship, straining himself trying to relive the sensation of Minhyuk kissing his lips until his head throbs and he’s exhausted to the bone.
He drags his feet as he shoulders his way in through the front door and heads straight to the shower, needing a shock of cold water to wake himself up. Even if his teammates or friends were available to spend his free afternoon with, he’d still have gone home to be alone and recuperate, anyway.
Living with six other men that compete for bathroom access has trained Hyungwon to shower quickly, and even being home alone, he’s in and out within minutes. The thirteen missed calls from Minhyuk that greet him once he picks up his phone again make it seem like he’s been gone for hours.
Puzzled, and a little concerned, Hyungwon immediately calls back as he trundles into the kitchen.
“Hey. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you!” Minhyuk cries. “Why didn’t you pick up any of my calls? Hey, where are you right now? Have you finished work for the day?”
Hyungwon switches on the kettle to brew tea, leaning back onto the kitchen counter. “Yeah, I’m at home.”
“Okay, perfect. I’ve just finished recording. Let’s go get coffee.”
Hyungwon reluctantly looks down at his sweatpants and fluffy socks. “I just showered—”
“I’m just coming over the bridge now, so I’ll be home in fifteen minutes. See you then!”
Minhyuk hangs up before Hyungwon can even open his mouth, and he sighs into the phone, met by a reply of resounding beeps.
Resisting Minhyuk’s demands would take up more energy than undoing his afternoon plans and going back outside, so without a second thought, he trudges back to his bedroom to get ready again. No amount of opposition would ever triumph over Minhyuk, because Minhyuk always ends up winning him over. Always.
Even over the whir and hiss of the coffee machine, Minhyuk’s voice is the loudest sound in the room.
The café offers a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere, and was pleasantly quiet before Minhyuk bulldozed in, with an embarrassed Hyungwon trailing behind him. So as to not disturb the few people that occupy the other tables, they sit nestled in a corner by an open window, a warm breeze occasionally brushing Hyungwon’s cheeks and rippling the stray hairs that escape his bangs. The air is balmy and his coffee tapers down his tense edges, and Hyungwon is left feeling secure and at ease, enveloped in the sound of Minhyuk’s voice.
“…and it’s ridiculous that they expect me to keep my mouth shut when I’m the one taking the brunt of it, you know? I could tell everyone else was pissed too, but, you know, what could we have done, you can’t just tell the director to stick it up his…”
Hyungwon props his elbow up on the table and rests his chin in his palm, staring down at his drink and swirling the straw mindlessly as Minhyuk babbles on. He’s not looking, but for once, he’s actually listening; taking in every word that Minhyuk says.
For the first time in a long time, Hyungwon feels like he’s gotten his best friend back.
A few minutes of one-sided chatter pass and Hyungwon raises his eyes again to meet Minhyuk’s - and to his astonishment, Minhyuk’s verbal waterfall falters, the eye contact seemingly taking him off guard and making him trip up on his words.
Hyungwon watches in surprise as Minhyuk stops, perplexed by his own stutter; but it only lasts a moment, and he shakes himself off effortlessly and continues rattling on.
“Doesn’t your voice hurt?” Hyungwon finally interrupts. “You’ve been talking all day.”
Minhyuk shrugs and sips his coffee, “that’s why I bought this. Anyway, can you believe that? They sent me all the way back to the other side of the building after everything we’d finished and...”
Be it the energy in the cafe or the sugar in his drink, Hyungwon’s sleepiness has subsided and left him buzzing with content, floating around the clock as hours pass by unnoticed. The sun begins to set and golden light streams through the windows that makes Minhyuk’s silhouette glow, much like his warm aura that swathes and soothes Hyungwon.
“Oh, it’s almost sunset,” Minhyuk finally notices, turning to look outside. “Hey, come sit here, let’s take a selfie while the lighting is good.”
Hyungwon grimaces, watching Minhyuk eagerly whip out his phone. “I look like a mess.”
“So what? You always look like a mess. Come on, please, before it gets dark,” Minhyuk whines, shaking the edge of the table frantically. “I won’t post it. Immediately. I’ll probably post it on your birthday. But, please?”
Hyungwon purses his lips, but eventually sighs in defeat and reluctantly moves his chair around the table. Minhyuk cheers in delight and pulls Hyungwon in close, mindlessly snapping streams of continuous photos, completely oblivious to the tightness in Hyungwon’s shoulders and the way his face flushes scarlet when their arms touch.
Minhyuk is fully absorbed in the art of perfecting his angles and making sure the glowing sunlight illuminates his cheekbones, until a notification banner obstructs the view and captures the attention of them both.
KIM MINAH (24, BARTENDER WITH NOSE PIERCING)
Why are you ignoring my messages?
KIM MINAH (24, BARTENDER WITH NOSE PIERCING)
Are you coming over or not? Reply to me before I lose my patience.
Hyungwon watches through the front camera as Minhyuk’s eyes scan over the popups, feeling him stiffen uncomfortably.
He can feel his chest tighten in disheartenment, realising their fleeting time together really was too good to be true, anticipating yet another swift disappearance that will leave him alone and humiliated, as always. Thinking Minhyuk had turned over a new leaf and transformed in a matter of weeks was pathetically unrealistic, Hyungwon realises; he should never have gotten his hopes up, because like always, Minhyuk will always let them down.
Minhyuk taps on the messages, and Hyungwon moves to lean away and grant him the privacy to respond; but before he can, Minhyuk has opened the contact details and blocked the number.
Dumbfounded, Hyungwon stares at Minhyuk’s quick fingers that reopen the camera and continue taking photos, as if nothing had ever happened.
His face shows no trace of any disturbance, completely unbothered and composed as ever. If anything, he almost seems brighter and more cheerful, cooing and praising his own appearance with a little more zeal on his tongue.
Hyungwon is baffled. Minhyuk has never, never blocked one of his female associates, not even the clingiest and creepiest of them.
He stares in bewilderment at their reflection through the phone screen, watching Minhyuk pucker his lips and press their cheeks together, making faces and urging Hyungwon to do the same.
There is a plethora of reasons as to why Minhyuk might’ve blocked the contact – perhaps she was exceptionally annoying, or unbearably disappointing in bed, or there might have been a risk of their private relations going public and the media getting hold of evidence. All that come to mind are far more reasonable and far more likely than the conclusion Hyungwon insists on drawing, but he can’t stop himself; he can’t help wondering if, in some hopelessly romantic reality, Minhyuk might have done it because of him.
The thought of Minhyuk losing interest in his meaningless flings in preference of Hyungwon, whether it be as a friend or as something more, is enough to make Hyungwon’s stomach flip. Warmth kindling in his chest, Hyungwon ducks his head away from the flashing screen, catching his breath and forcing back the swarm of rosy thoughts before looking up to face the camera again, this time with a smile that he can’t restrain.
Bleary-eyed mornings become routine, and busy workdays only get busier, but despite the hours freed up by his lack of nightly dates, Minhyuk only finds himself more exhausted than ever, filling every empty moment with tormenting thoughts and questions about Hyungwon – where he is, what he’s thinking, and whether he shares the same heavy feeling that constantly weighs down his heart. His relationship with Hyungwon seems as normal as it could possibly be in the given circumstances, and Hyungwon courses through the days with a returning brightness and warmth. But despite being freed of the weight of animosity between them, Minhyuk somehow feels more burdened than ever, because the moments of happiness are shrouded by a stifling sense of unfulfillment, a reminder of the remainders of his mess that he still has yet to clear.
Sleep has never come easily to Minhyuk but the past few weeks of restlessness is unprecedented, and he becomes eerily familiar with the grain of the paint and plaster on the wall beside his bed, spending long minutes that drag into hours tossing and turning and staring into the darkness. He wants to lie to himself and blame his insomnia on the absence of physical touch and lack of a means of release, but the cause is undeniable, because every time he shuts his eyes, the only thing he can see is Hyungwon.
The blinds are tightly pulled shut and the bedroom darker than usual, so it’s difficult for Minhyuk to make out the shape of Hyungwon and determine whether he’s lying facing the wall. Somehow, Minhyuk doesn’t need the visual proof to know that he is.
“Hey,” Minhyuk murmurs into the silence. “Are you awake?”
He asks even though he already knows the answer – years of falling asleep to the lullaby of Hyungwon’s breathing has familiarised him to the rhythms of his sleep and wake. The question is less for the response, and more to seek permission to talk.
Hyungwon’s eyes flutter open slowly. The weight in Minhyuk’s tone makes him pause, considering whether or not to respond, and if he’s prepared for the aches in his heart that are to follow their conversation, as they always do.
“Mm,” Hyungwon hums back.
Minhyuk draws in a long breath and gulps down the knot in his throat that blocks his words from coming out.
“Um. I was just…wondering if…you know, like we said…” he stammers weakly, “if you've had enough time to…to think things through.”
Minhyuk chews on his lip apprehensively, searching for motion in Hyungwon’s murky silhouette, anxiously awaiting a response, a simple sign of recognition and reassurance that he hasn’t made yet another wrong move.
Hyungwon listens to the unfamiliar tremors in Minhyuk’s breaths from the struggle to smother his unease. Somehow, Hyungwon finds a cruel sense of relief in knowing that Minhyuk is the agitated one for once, and he can calmly drink in the words and assemble a clear response without the pressure of knowing that Minhyuk has the upper hand.
Enough time to think things through. Hyungwon smiles bitterly into the darkness, stepping back into his reel of memories, past the agonising few last weeks, past the festering pain, back when heartbreak was nothing more than song lyrics printed on paper.
Hyungwon remembers the very day he met Minhyuk for the first time, as if it had only happened yesterday. He remembers sitting quietly beside the lanky boy with an overgrown fringe who wouldn’t stop wringing his hands, hunched over, muttering words of consolation to himself. He remembers falling for his soft and lilting voice in the audition room; he remembers the new and unfamiliar feeling of his heart tightening in his chest when the boy turned to him and smiled; he remembers forgetting the words to his song and forgetting how to breathe and feeling like all his dreams were coming true when the stranger chased after him when the audition was over, seizing him by elbow and asking if they could be friends.
The start of something irreplaceable, deeper than friendship, closer than brotherhood, growing up together, beside one another, joint at every stage. Years of spending so many nights sleeping on Minhyuk’s bedroom floor, learning dance routines in the basement while his parents slept, sharing dreams of bright lights and filled concert halls over unfinished homework late at night and into the early hours of the morning. Hyungwon still recalls Minhyuk scooping him into his arms when their dream of debuting together came true, securing the knot that tied their string of history, inseparable ever since, connected in a way that only they could understand.
Minhyuk lives his life in the moment, forgetful and absent-minded, but Hyungwon has retained every memory since that day – every smile, every laugh, every hand hold with locking fingers and thumbs drawing circles in skin, every single night of lying awake pretending he was waiting for sleep to whisk him away when all he wanted was for Minhyuk to come home. Every night, Minhyuk would take his patched-up pieces and unknowingly tear them apart all over again, but Hyungwon was addicted to the pain, because pain meant Minhyuk, and Minhyuk was the only thing he ever wanted.
Enough time, Hyungwon considers. It’s tragic and cruel and almost funny how Minhyuk has become the impatient one, but Hyungwon understands – despite the length of their friendship, the past few weeks have been the longest of his life. He wonders if Minhyuk can hear the tears dropping on his bedsheets from across the room.
“I’ve been thinking this through for eight years,” Hyungwon says softly.
The gentle words fall heavy on Minhyuk, a leaden weight on his heart, crushing his chest until every nerve in his body goes numb. The guilty ache is immobilising, and even more so with the ghost of Hyungwon’s painful confession in his ears. As burdensome as Minhyuk’s own emotional turmoil is, he knows his short-lived pain is incomparable to the years of suffering he’s put Hyungwon through, and the only thing he has left to do is make things right, even if that means ripping himself apart.
It’s been months since Hyungwon last saw Minhyuk leave for a love affair and return dishevelled and delirious in the hollow of night. He makes no mention of any eventful meetings that he might’ve snuck into his agenda, has no news on girls he’s met and no complaints about the admirers that stubbornly deluge his text messages. He’s never busy flirting into the phone, his free time is never already occupied, and he never forgets a single promise to spend that time with Hyungwon.
As much as his logic tells him not to, Hyungwon begins to believe that Minhyuk has truly turned himself around; and though he knew it was never his place to stop Minhyuk from dating and sleeping around, he can’t help circling back to their kiss and wondering if Minhyuk was changed by the same magic that Hyungwon felt in that moment.
He still fights his same internal battles and he still chokes down the leaps in his heart at every small gesture – every time Minhyuk grabs his hand to swing their arms back and forth, every time Minhyuk springs into bed with him just to wrestle until they’re kicking and arguing, every time he turns around and catches Minhyuk staring at him in a daze from across the room, only to blink himself out of his stupor and continue on as if it had never happened. And it still hurts every time he shoots the feelings down, more so than it ever did, because this time Minhyuk has given him a reason to think he almost has a chance. But even though his head is in turmoil and his heart is sore, it’s worth the pain, because having his best friend back is enough of a remedy to mend all of his reopened wounds.
Another monotonous day of work comes to an end and Hyungwon walks in on the unexpected sight of Minhyuk standing in front of their bedroom mirror, flattening his untamed hairs back into place to perfect his refined look. After weeks of dressing comfortably – still stylish, as always, but never to impress – Minhyuk has dug out his silky shirts and tinted lip gloss from his closet and dolled himself up again, looking ready for a long, wild night.
At first, Hyungwon is disoriented by the sudden reappearance of Minhyuk’s risqué alter ego, after so many weeks of its absence. He’s flung right back into a past reality of watching Minhyuk live his life of scandalous fun while being left behind and forgotten, and it revives the same familiar ache of disappointment that comes back quickly and hits him hard. It’s only when Hyungwon realises how intuitive and familiar this pain is does he remember that this version of Minhyuk was never the stranger, and the newer persona that Hyungwon had become so acquainted with was really only a mask over his true self.
Minhyuk has always been full of empty promises. Hyungwon only has himself to blame for getting his hopes up, thinking that maybe, just maybe, things had finally changed. He can only resent himself, for pushing himself into the sinking pit of dismay that he dug out with his own hands, for being foolish enough to expect Minhyuk to turn his life around for Hyungwon, the same way Hyungwon gave his life up for Minhyuk.
He stands frozen at the door, watching Minhyuk pop his collar and iron out his shirt with his hands, smoothing his palms down his chest, with Hyungwon’s eyes following their movement longingly and miserably. It only takes a few moments for Minhyuk to notice him, but the agony makes it feel far more prolonged.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Minhyuk says, turning to face despondent Hyungwon with an innocent smile. “Put some shoes on. I need you to come out with me.”
Hyungwon steps to the side to allow Minhyuk through the door, frowning after him as he wanders off, but he follows him anyway.
“I’m not going to chauffer you to your date,” Hyungwon asserts, with whatever remaining dignity he has left to spare. Letting Minhyuk string him along and trample all over his heart is one thing, but being in the driver’s seat and dropping him off to destination heartbreak is another.
Minhyuk turns to face Hyungwon, walking backwards towards the front door, a cocky smirk on his lips.
“I never said you would. Come on, let’s go.”
“You could’ve told me to put on some warmer clothes,” Hyungwon puffs, digging his hands into his crossed arms to brace another cold gust of wind.
The passage of season brings frostier mornings and cooler nights, the sun setting a little earlier and the stars glimmering a little brighter in clear and crisp evening skies. Hyungwon has always been a homebody, even more so in times of unwelcoming weather, so late-night walks have never been one of his preferred activities for leisure. And most puzzlingly, nor has it ever been for Minhyuk.
The breeze is icy, but Minhyuk doesn’t seem to feel it, filling the time with empty, brainless conversation as he usually does, dancing a few steps faster along the pavement than Hyungwon, seemingly without a care in the world. Hyungwon is confused, but the confusion is dulled by an itch of curiosity, so he lets Minhyuk lead him further out into the sunset without asking questions.
“You’re really that cold?” Minhyuk asks in disbelief. Without hesitation, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Hyungwon’s shoulders, smiling nonchalantly when Hyungwon looks up and shyly meets his eyes. Minhyuk turns back to the path before them and continues bounding along, and Hyungwon falls quiet, the nipping cold on his cheeks dissipating away as a gentle blush warms them.
He can only put up with another fifteen or so minutes of aimless walking before Hyungwon is compelled to complain again. They’ve reached a hill, and Minhyuk is still battering on without taking breath. Hyungwon is fit, but his legs are already tired from hours of dancing, and he’s starting to think he’d rather give up spending time with Minhyuk to just turn back to go home.
“Are we almost there yet?” Hyungwon pleads, puffing for breath as he struggles to keep up with sprightly Minhyuk.
“Not almost. We’re here now.”
Hyungwon stops to grasp his knees and catch his breath as they come over the crescent of the hill, barely noticing their surroundings, blindly following Minhyuk around the corner and out from the thick greenery into an open clearing.
He’s still panting, but when Minhyuk steps to the side and Hyungwon catches sight of where they’ve ended up, his breath is entirely stolen away.
Over the precipice, a sweeping view of the city in twilight, colourful lights glowing like fireflies nesting across a field of silvered metropolis dunes. The city lights flare and reflect under a blanket of winter sky, purple fading into navy, speckled in white as the brightest stars of the night begin to wake and emerge. The empty lookout is crested by weeping trees that sway invitingly, calling Hyungwon toward the cliff’s edge for a closer look.
Enchanted, Hyungwon moves forward unthinkingly, closing his hands around the railings and soaking in the magnificent view. He’s travelled the country from shore to shore and seen it from the summits of the tallest skyscrapers, but no other perspective compares to the beauty of what’s before him now. Instantly, Hyungwon has forgotten about the numbing cold on his fingers and nose, and the gruelling journey was undoubtedly worth travelling for.
Seeing the world from so far away releases a load of stress that Hyungwon didn’t even realise he was carrying, and the sensation of weightlessness and freedom swells a lump in his throat and brims fullness in his chest. Overcome with emotion, Hyungwon turns to look at Minhyuk, his heart skipping a beat when they lock eyes.
Minhyuk pays no attention to the cityscape before them, leaning against the railing and staring intently at Hyungwon, the moonlight twinkling in his eyes and forming a halo of radiance around him. Breathless, speechless, spellbound by how ethereal Minhyuk looks under the hues of dusk, Hyungwon gulps down the tremor in his breath and wills himself out of his trance.
“You got all dressed up just to come here?” Hyungwon jokes.
The contemplative look on Minhyuk’s face is quickly replaced by a playful grin, and he scoffs sarcastically.
“I can dress up whenever I want. With a face like mine, it would be a shame not to.”
They fall back into silence, and Minhyuk’s unfaltering stare makes Hyungwon cower away, his heartbeat picking up speed. He can see the confliction and deliberation in Minhyuk’s eyes, watching the movements of Minhyuk’s long hair as it blows in the cool breeze, waiting apprehensively.
Minhyuk eventually pushes himself off from the railing and steps forward, closing the distance between them. Hyungwon lowers his chin and glances at him uneasily, letting Minhyuk take his trembling hands and interlock their fingers. Minhyuk is better at hiding it, but he feels the pounding in his chest just as much as Hyungwon does.
“I know it hasn’t been much time, but I don’t think I can wait any longer, Hyungwon,” Minhyuk says softly. “I’m trying to handle this rationally, but…” Hyungwon feels Minhyuk’s hands stiffen, and his grasp tightens as he fights the words from his hesitating tongue.
“…all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you again.”
Minhyuk nibbles on his bottom lip and awaits a response, rolling his thumbs into the crevices of Hyungwon’s hands, just to feel grounded.
Hyungwon, swallowed up by the entrancing words, looks up into Minhyuk’s sincere, devoted eyes, and the rest of the world melts away around his warmth. The sea of lights and the glimmering stars in the distance all blur together in dizzying luminescence, but the fondness in Minhyuk’s eyes and the gentle tremor in his lips is crystalline sharp.
His struggle to breathe makes him lightheaded, but even in his state of paralysis, Hyungwon knows the sensations of anxiety and unease are far from the sort he’s been faced with before. Instead of terror and fear of hurt, Hyungwon shudders with anticipation, almost with exhilaration. He’s been a victim of Minhyuk’s traps many times before, but this time he’s ready to let go and fall with open arms, trusting in Minhyuk’s raw sincerity, knowing he’ll be there, waiting to catch him.
Hyungwon can’t find the words to bridge between the stirring in his chest and the images in his mind, and gives no verbal response, no affirmation that Minhyuk hasn’t overstepped the boundaries they’ve set. But despite his senselessness, Minhyuk is still Hyungwon’s best friend that knows him better than anyone, and he doesn’t need to hear the words to know what Hyungwon is thinking.
His cautious hands release Hyungwon’s, and he places them on Hyungwon’s cheeks, leaning in slowly to finally meet his lips again, just how they’ve both yearned to do so for the long weeks since their last. It’s just as breathtaking as they remember, just perfect as they’d dreamed it to be – perhaps even more so – gentle, vulnerable, and all from the heart.
Their hands move slowly and Minhyuk carefully caresses Hyungwon’s face in his fingers, eventually finding a place to rest them in the crooks of Hyungwon’s neck, as if they were made just for him. His heart is ablaze and he’s fizzing with energy, but he kisses Hyungwon slowly and tenderly, unsure of how Hyungwon feels, wary that he holds all of Hyungwon’s pain and hurt and vulnerability in his palms. He withholds himself and lets Hyungwon control their rhythm; and that Hyungwon does, tilting his head into the movement, draping his arms around Minhyuk’s neck, melting into his embrace.
Time dissolves away around them, and all that Minhyuk can feel is Hyungwon’s touch; the way Hyungwon feels under his arms as he moves them to circle his waist, pulling him in until their chests meet, every part of him against Hyungwon’s body and yet he still feels like he just can’t get close enough.
Connected at the lips, moving in musical synchrony, hearts melding into one. Minhyuk’s world of chaos has finally settled, all of his scattered pieces fitting together in a mosaic of Hyungwon’s colours that just makes sense. Nothing has ever felt more right than this – after all their years of friendship, and all his years of searching, at last Minhyuk can see through his blindness, realising that Hyungwon has been the one plastered around his heart all along.
“I think,” Minhyuk breathes into the kiss, “I think I’ve always loved you. And it just took me until now to realise it.”
A flock of butterflies erupt in Hyungwon’s chest, and he can’t help smiling against Minhyuk’s eager lips. Some things change, he thinks, but Minhyuk’s talent of saying too much and too soon isn’t one of them. It’s confusing, it’s annoying, it’s perfectly Minhyuk, and Hyungwon wouldn’t change a thing.
Darkness settles and the sweetness of night fills the air, and Hyungwon and Minhyuk remain enveloped in each other’s arms, the city lights twinkling below and the world moving on without them, etched into their eternal moment.
As much as Minhyuk wishes he could stand under the stars and kiss Hyungwon until the sun rises again, eventually he breaks away to let his breath catch up to him, and to let his hammering heart settle. He rests his forehead on Hyungwon’s, gazing into his fond eyes and returning his gentle, breathless smile. Though he wants this night to last forever, he’s content with taking the journey slowly, knowing that for the first time, his romance won’t be over when morning comes, and he’ll relive this perfect moment over and over again.
“I hope none of you have made plans for tonight,” Minhyuk shouts. “We’re going out for family bonding time. Dinner’s on me.”
The members stare in disbelief as Minhyuk wrestles to pull a protesting Wonho off the couch and up on his feet.
“You said that last time!” Wonho cries. “And then you left early and I had to pay for everything!”
“Calm down, I’m free all night, I won’t leave early.”
Satisfied, Minhyuk crosses his arms and grins as the room erupts in conflict, watching the group dispute what to eat under the forgiving custody of his credit card.
“Minhyuk, you really don’t have any plans?” Kihyun inquires curiously, once the argument settles down.
“Yeah, hyung, you haven’t gone out to get laid in a while,” Changkyun comments. “When’s your next bedroom appointment? Or have you finally seen the way of the Lord?”
“My next appointment?” A smug smirk endowing his lips, Minhyuk glances over at Hyungwon suggestively, watching in delight as he blushes a brilliant shade of red and looks away in horror.
“Soon. Real soon.”
✏ { a/n } hiii thank you for reading this i hope you enjoyed it even tho its literal nonsensical word vomit xoxo please leave a comment i would love to hear from u !!! and im on twitter if u wanna be friendies!!! kiss kiss !!!!!!
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