"All good, that's a wrap!" 

Air finally leaves his lungs and his stomach inflates back to its usual size as Minho relaxes. The room buzzes into a flurry of activity, staff weaving around lights and models to help them dress down and remove their accessories, extra care needed for the brand new pieces that have yet to make their debut next season. 

It’s a lot less crowded than he’s used to. There are only five of them today, some of them having to double up their styling roles to assist the photographer with props and lighting. Poor Yumi-ssi must be overwhelmed, despite the mask, Minho can tell with how her usual immaculate hair is dishevelled and stuck to her forehead from all the running around.

“Do you need any help, Yumi-ssi?” he offers, looking up towards the petite woman’s direction in the mirror as she flits past the makeup booths with a clipboard in hand.

“Ah? Oh no, Minho-ssi! Your part of the shoot is done, you don’t have to stick around! It’s Valentine’s day, I’m sure you have plans, don’t you?”

“Valentine’s?” The model checks his phone. It is February 14th indeed. How did he not realise? 

“Oh no, did you forget your appointment? I’m so sorry that we have kept you here for too long! You should hurry, the traffic might not be as bad at this hour.”

Minho isn’t sure how the woman came to that assumption, but somehow he can’t bring himself to correct her. With how hectic the studio looks, maybe it is a better idea to make himself scarce than be a nuisance. 

He browses his camera roll. At least he took a few selfies to keep his followers busy.

Kibum sets the plate down. He has four dining chairs, all but one are empty, occupied by himself. There is no one else save for two pairs of hungry eyes looking up to him expectedly. 

The table is set, the night view is wonderful, but something about this evening feels off.

For the second year in a row, he is celebrating Valentine’s alone. Somehow it feels strange, even though he has grown accustomed to eating alone on this table that can comfortably seat two for a five-course meal. 

“Do you think I should get another set of cutlery?” He asks out loud. All the gets are curious head-tilts. Kibum sighs at his dogs. “Of course, you kids wouldn’t know what I mean. Appa hasn’t taught you anything about table manners yet.”

The puppies follow him to the kitchen, where Kibum fetches a fork and spoon, steps out of the kitchen, then doubles back to retrieve a plate as well. 

Suddenly he realises he cooked too much pasta. 

it , might as well make it a table for two and flaunt his cooking skills. 

bumkeyk table for two but eating for one
#homecooking #happyvalentinesdaytomyself 

Within seconds, likes and comments come flooding in. 

Every corner he turns, Minho is reminded that today is indeed Valentine's Day. There are literally couples everywhere, holding hands and carrying rose bouquets, heart-shaped balloons, and giant teddy bears. 

His stomach is growling, but he has no desire to dine alone amongst couples and invite stares (when they should be looking at each other). It's also two months too early for jajangmyeon , the only other option being the traditional soup restaurant run by an old lady near his apartment. 

Being situated in a neighbourhood street corner, there are not many patrons around, much to Minho's relief. He bows politely to the proprietress as she greets him and confirms his, a galbitang to go.

As he waits, he brings up his notifications, filled by comments from his adoring followers as expected. Even with words like ‘you’re so handsome’, ‘so hot’, ‘are you my valentine?’, Minho’s heart still feels strangely empty. Social media, after all, is superficial, lacking in human interaction that used to be common before the pandemic. At least there's Changmin's comment as usual to make him feel a tiny little bit better, but the man is already blissfully married to his wife. 

Enough comments , he sighs to himself. Wonder if there's anyone else having a single's Valentines like him. 

Comme Des whines at Kibum, glossy button-like eyes looking up to him pleadingly as the food goes cold untouched. Kibum tries channel surfing on the TV to find something that would put him into the mood of eating. 

But it's all sappy romance dramas and Valentine's specials, reminding him yet again that he is single with too much pasta. 

His fingers gravitate back to the familiar motions of scrolling one photo after another on his social feed. It stops on a single handsome face, one he hasn't seen in a couple of years. 

choiminho_1209 be my valentine. 

All that's left of Kibum's miniscule appetite is gone. Every time the name Choi Minho comes to mind, guilt fills his guts, ever since two years ago he boarded the flight to London. 

"You're going away for three months and you didn't even tell me?" 

"Aren't you a little dramatic for someone who flies for work every other month? What difference is it going to make anyway? I’m sick and tired of you questioning my every move!" 

Oh, what a huge difference it was. Who knew the pandemic would stretch those three months into nearly a year. 

Still, it was a shining golden opportunity to work with one of the most influential artists in Britain for a brand collaboration. Anyone would be a fool not to take it up. He thought an ambitious man like Minho would understand, but alas, that was not the case.

Kibum lifts his finger and stares at Minho's photo again. , he's still smoking hot. 

"You ," he grumbles, pushing his phone an arm's length away, "Why are you so damn fine?" 

Ten minutes have passed and Minho ran out of new posts to catch up on. Changmin is all dressed up for a date with his wife. Taemin posted a new video of his cat (it’s cute, but Minho suspects she may be a demon in disguise). Jonghyun wrote a long essay lamenting about couples being excessively obnoxious today. Jinki’s Instagram handle is too long and complicated that he still hasn’t found it yet, despite the many hints the elder has given him (he doesn’t understand why Jinki couldn’t just type it out in a message for him, then again he’s too embarrassed to ask again). 

Minho looks up from his phone. His order still isn’t done yet, there’s still time to kill. 

His fingers go into autopilot. 

b
bu
bumkeyk

The profile picture is different from how he last remembered it; Kibum is no longer blonde with hazel-green eyes, now favouring a more natural boyish look with dark hair and effortlessly parted bangs. The recent posts are along the same vein; if he’s not masked up in the outdoors, Kibum is mostly fresh faced without being too fancy. 

So different from the Kibum he had last seen in person.

Even though he’s not a model like him, Kibum has always stayed on top of fashion, turning himself into a canvas for his style experiments. The Kibum he knew would change his hair every two weeks, favour a certain way of dress for three days, rinse and repeat. 

There is nothing wrong with his current plain style. If anything, Minho thinks the simplicity makes Kibum’s natural handsomeness shine even more.

Wait, what is he thinking? Anything about Kibum should all be in the past. Thinking back, it still stings how he simply brushed everything aside like nothing mattered. 

His last message to Kibum was a year ago. Minho huffs to himself. Still no reply from him.

There are two sets of cutlery and a heaping pile of spaghetti in Kibum's photo. Almost comically too much for him to finish by himself.

He types out a comment, just a shot in the breeze, more likely or not it will be lost in the sea of comments. 

choiminho_1209 lunch for tomorrow too?

When the comment notification pops up, Kibum nearly gets a heart attack and drops his phone. He taps on the ID, making sure it's not just some fan cleverly spoofing Minho's handle with a few character swaps. Sure enough, the profile looks legitimate with the crazy number of football pics. There’s even selfies of the man himself in the nerdy glasses he has seen him wear a couple of times.  

The influencer is left speechless. He's unsure how he should respond. He can possibly ignore it, and pretend there is another Choi Minho born on the ninth of December. 

"You think you're so funny," he scoffs, fingers twitching to reply.

| bumkeyk it'll be gross by then

Minho's brows nearly shoot up all the way to his scalp. He had expected to be on Kim Kibum's block list, not receive a reply comment from him. 

It's hard to tell his tone from a single message, but if he replied so quickly, he should be receptive to what he has to say, right? 

| choiminho_1209 it's a huge waste to throw food away… 

you wanna be my trash bin? lol     ▷

"Oh my god, what am I thinking?" Kibum bemoans to himself, putting his phone down. Who on earth flirts with his ex so casually? 

Face it, you missed talking to him , his inner voice whispers. Sure, Minho talked and nagged a lot, the first few weeks of peaceful silence in London was a reprieve, albeit a short-lived one. There wasn't really anyone whom he could have verbal ping-pong matches all day. 

Is it too late to fix things?  

Kibum swipes the screen to the left, bringing up his direct messages. 

hey

hey

His fingers freeze, mind blanking out as he chews on his lip. What should he say? Three dots begin to bounce on his screen. 

how are you? 

A simple follow up greeting, just like that chips off a chunk of awkwardness Kibum is feeling now, giving him something to reply. 

just surviving, I guess

you're back in korea, right? 

yea, you?

same.
just getting by
when did you come back? 

last year
feels safer to be at home
in case something happens

that's true
wasn't expecting for it to last so long

ikr, tell me about it
so sick of it all

haha how typical of you
just overcome it!

TSK

Minho chuckles to himself as he can imagine Kibum rolling his eyes. One thing’s for sure, Kibum is definitely not stonewalling him. Bit by bit, they are chatting like old times, friendly and teasing. His heart warms at that thought, they can still be on good terms if they put down their pride and ego. It’s nice not to be fighting all the time, getting exasperated sighs and being mentally and emotionally drained in each other’s presence.

The conversation flows on, surprisingly easy. They talked about their work, while Minho is still constant with his modelling work domestically, Kibum has moved on from his Youtube channel to being a regular guest on a couple of shows, another career goal of his he managed to tick off within a year of returning from London. 

congrats on your new shows :)

thanks

However, as Kibum twirls and chews on the cold, sauce-sodden pasta on his plate, he wishes he could just talk to the other man without having to rely on his phone and fingers. Not only is it troublesome when you’re trying to eat, it sorely lacks the personal touch that Kibum is craving for. He wants to see Minho, sitting before him, and watch the fire behind deep brown eyes dance in mirth or burn with intense passion. He wants to hear that deep, rich voice of his that peaks when he gets excited, even if he has an ugly crow laugh that grates on his nerves. 

He just needs to try and ask. 

actually
had your dinner yet?

no, why?

do you want to come over?
food is cold but I can heat it up

well… I just picked up my dinner

Oh. Kibum’s heart drops. 

but I can drive over
it's galbitang
I hope you don't mind

Kibum slaps a hand over his mouth, it's splitting into a smile so wide he can feel it all the way into his cheekbones. Comme Des pants and wags his tail by his ankle. 

lol korean food with italian pasta?
sure
new place, I'll text you the address

nice
see you :) 

As Minho gets closer to Kibum's neighbourhood according to his GPS, he realises it's not too far away from his place, unlike two years ago when they lived on different sides of the Han River and they always had to meet at the middle or the outskirts of Seoul for dates or stay over. When Kibum's lease expired, Minho let him move into his apartment temporarily while looking for a new place to stay, house sitting whenever his job calls for travel, before suddenly announcing he is going to leave for London. 

Yeah, he wished Kibum could have paid more consideration to his feelings than treating his place like a bed and breakfast. But what is Kibum actually thinking? He wonders as he makes his way up. Before he can even reach for the doorbell, he can hear barking from within. Kibum has a dog now? He keeps a hand in his pocket to ground himself as his heart races faster and faster as the shuffling comes closer.

Kibum’s heart leaps when he opens the door, coming face to face with a tall man in a white mask with large eyes and slightly mussed hair. It may be a while, or the shock, that it takes him a few seconds for it to click in his brain that Choi Minho is at his door.

“Hi.” They both greet each other in unison, meeting each other in the eye. The moment is shortlived, as heat rises up their necks into their cheeks, broken by Minho's sudden interest in his shoes. The air is so thick, accumulated by years of absence and unresolved feelings. The model shuffles his feet, shaking off the uneasiness, and speaks up.

“Are you sure about this?”

Kibum raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, coming over so suddenly. I came from work, so if you’re particular about that…”

The bow-shaped lips thin into a scowl as Kibum crosses his arms and leans against the door. “Well if you’re regretting your decision you’re always welcome to leave.”

Minho scoffs. Typical Kim Kibum, acting nonchalant and coy like always. 

“Well, you must be starving, and the soup is getting cold,” he gestures at the vinyl bag in his hand. “Mind if I borrowed your kitchen?”

“Hand it over,” Kibum reaches out to grab it, “I’ll take care of it. Make yourself at home.”

Two poodles immediately approach Minho the moment he steps into the apartment, sniffing at his clothes. “Don’t worry about them. They don’t bite.” Kibum reassures him, voice echoing from the kitchen. 

In Minho’s view, these two dogs seem tiny and harmless. He crouches down to let them have a whiff of his hand, chuckling softly when they press their curious little noses into his fingers. “When did you get them?” 

“I got Comme Des in the UK, then I saw Garcons last year and thought he looked a lot like Comme Des, so I brought him home too. Their personalities are totally different, though.”

“How so?”

“Comme Des is pretty loyal and protective, but Garcons goes to anyone who throws a ball at him.”

“Really?” Minho asks, eyeing the toybox in the corner. “Can I try?”

“Yeah, there’s a tennis ball in the box. Knock yourself out, but don’t break anything or I’ll make you pay.”

“Relax, I won’t.” 

Slightly concerned, Kibum turns his back at the stove and peeks out from the kitchen, finding the tall man crouched down gleefully holding the ball over his head, sniggering at the puppies’ confused looks when he pretends to throw. He finally throws it towards the other side of the room, and Garcons goes bounding after it, while Comme Des calmly decides to sit down next to Minho and watches the other dog go. When Garcons returns the ball to him, he gently pets the top of his head and gives it another toss, then sneaks a few scratches behind Comme Des’ ear. 

Kibum reserves a bit of wariness, but it's surprising to see his furkids so calm and playful around Minho in such a short time. There is a saying that dogs instinctively know if someone is a good person. He wonders if the dogs find Minho trustworthy, or is he just damn good at making them eat out of his hand. 

“Alright children, enough fun and games, it’s time for dinner!” He announces, bringing the galbitang to the dining table, sliding the spaghetti aside to make space.

“Wow, you made it look like something out of a fancy restaurant.” Minho comments, marvelling at the spread. 

“It’s the cutlery that makes it look fancy. I shopped around a lot to find these. Here.” The influencer hands a pair of tongs to the other man, who takes it with a slight smile and a brief brush of fingers that sends a slight shiver up Kibum’s hand. Withdrawing quickly, he busies himself with ladling portions of soup into their bowls.

"Thanks for inviting me over. Funny how we ended up here after not talking for two years."

"This isn't really a date though," Kibum picks up his fork, eyes narrowing, "in case you're mistaken."

The model blinks. "Then what are we doing? It's Valentine's."

Kibum can’t help but roll his eyes. "Hanging out? Since we're not dating anymore."

“ Not dating ,” Minho scoffs. “You could have just ignored my comment, yet you came into my DMs first. You wanted to talk to me, didn’t you?” 

Damn, he got caught. He swallows the lump in his throat, even though he hasn’t started eating yet.

“And you? You used to send me lame messages all the time, what made you stop? Why did you send that comment out of the blue?”

“I thought you were lonely,” Minho answers midway through chewing his food. “Who the heck cooks so much and sets a table for two with no date?”

"So what if I did?” he spits, crossing his arms. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“There you go again, getting riled up so easily over little things. Why can’t we just talk like proper adults?”

“You’re the one to talk! Who was the one who kicked up a fuss when I left Korea?”

“That’s different, that was a major life decision and I would have appreciated it if you informed me beforehand, not three days before your flight!”

"What was there to talk about? Look, I told you it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I had to accept it!”

"Yes, but that wasn’t the point, Kibum. It was your attitude. You called me overdramatic without even considering my feelings! Three months is a long time and I wasn't ready for that. And I hated how you acted as if I had no say in it and then you just jet off without another word."

All of this is wrong, wrong, wrong. Kibum lunges forward, banging the table, venom on the tip of his tongue. "That’s because we fight all the time! Do you know how tiring it was trying to prepare for the job trip with your incessant nagging? I finally got the peace I wanted and the job done but this stupid pandemic happens and I’m stuck. I wanted to come home badly and I couldn't and I was hoping you're okay-" 

The fork on the other side is sent clattering, chair skidding across the floor with an awful screech. "Of course I'm not okay, I ing missed you but you kept ghosting me-" 

"I-" A wave of deja vu hits them over the head, realisation surfacing. Minho stares at Kibum, knuckles clenched and nostrils flared, both huffing loudly in agitation. He can see the look in Kibum's eyes that he's about to take flight- take his phone and keys to leave the apartment -and slowly lowers himself back into his seat. 

"Kibum."

The other man eyes him warily, scarred eyebrow twitching. "We're not going to do this again, are we?" 

"No," Minho sighs, running a hand in his hair in exasperation. ", what are we doing to ourselves, I didn't come to fight with you again like this."

"Right…" Kibum drops back into his seat in defeat. There are no winners in this argument, only broken hearts struggling to heal. He glances at the bowl in front of him to distract himself from making eye contact with his ex. 

"This is the soup from the restaurant you always frequented, right? The one in the corner a few streets away from your place?" 

"... Yeah, you still remember that?" 

"How could I forget? You were so obsessed with it that we had it three weeks in a row!" 

"Did we?" 

"We did." Kibum insists, sipping a spoonful. "It still tastes the same."

The model glances up from his food. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" 

"It's not bad. How's the pasta?" 

"Hmm." Twirling a large forkful, Minho channels his inner food critic as he takes a bite, face scrunched in an intense frown that knits his brows together into a monobrow. 

Seconds tick by and he's still chewing. Annoying. 

Kibum clicks his tongue and jabs at his plate. "Quit playing around. If it's that bad, just spit it out." 

Minho holds up a hand, and finally swallows down the mush, which bulges and bobs down his throat. A tongue swipes over his chapped lips before a glass is pressed onto them as he takes a drink. Hands clapped together, Minho takes a deep breath before he makes his final judgement. Kibum waits. 

"It's good."

"What the hell." Kibum brandishes his fork at him while Minho digs in for another bite. "What was all those theatrics for?" 

"You're so easy to tease!" Minho grins with spaghetti hanging out of his mouth, earning an eye roll from the other man in return. "You always act like you're not bothered about opinions but you actually care." 

“No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"I'm not-" 

Large dark orbs filled with warm honey gaze upon him, his own reflection dancing in them just like the lights in the night view next to them. Kibum realises his heart has stopped for a moment, his stomach in knots because he hasn't seen that kind of gaze for ages. 

"It's delicious. Really."

Minho can’t help but grin as Kibum whips his head to the side and hides his reddening cheek with a hand, grumbling yet his pout betrays him. He misses this side of Kibum, when he tries to hide his reactions in the cutest way possible. 

"You want some soju to go with it?" 

"Sure," Minho wipes his mouth with a tissue. As a good host, Kibum retrieves two glasses and a bottle of soju, but Minho is the first to take the bottle and pour out their share. Silently, they each take their glasses, clink them together and throw back the shots into their throats. 

The night goes on, the pile of pasta turning into mere morsels on the serving plate while bones pile up in their emptied bowls. Shot after shot, conversation gets easier and louder with boisterous laughter, the tension from the earlier argument dissipated. Stories of work and pre-pandemic life led into ones of isolation and homesickness. 

“You know,” the shorter man swirls his glass as he lounges halfway across the couch, making just enough space for the leggier model to pile on the other side. “After spending twelve months there, living in London isn’t as great as I thought it would be?”

“How so?” Minho inquires, laying down and lifting his legs over the backrest. “Is their food crap like people say?”

“Well, if you got to put it that way, there’s still other ways to feed yourself,” he shrugs. “But no. It’s just… hard. Being myself.” He lets his arm fall, hanging low enough for Comme Des to nudge and nuzzle at with soft wet sniffles.

“I thought I knew enough about the world to make it on my own, achieve my goals and dreams. But I was struggling so much trying to decide if I should stand out or fit in. And then corona came and made everything a hundred times worse.”

“Yeah, stupid corona,” a low voice rumbles next to him. “I didn’t get to see my family for months even though we were all in the same country. It must be tougher for you to be so far away.”

“Hence I got a dog. But a dog can’t replace those you miss the most.”

Something nudges at Kibum’s calf. “Did you miss me?” 

Narrowed eyes flick towards Minho’s direction. The model is pouting at him, yet his body is all relaxed, arms loosely crossed looking cozy and comfortable. It’s obvious that Minho already knows the answer.

If only he can crawl onto him and feel at home in those arms.

Kibum takes a sip, letting the glass obscure the view as the glass is emptied and set aside. He runs a hand in his hair, brushing back dark strands that fall messily over his forehead, but in Minho’s eyes (maybe under alcohol-induced filter), he looks exquisite.

“I probably at saying this, but I’m sorry that I didn’t reply to your texts. I didn’t want another fight to make me feel miserable again. And I guess you were probably worried about me being away for so long. I’m sorry about that too.”

Eyes widen in surprise at Kibum’s confession. “Does it scare you that much? Talking to me?”

“To be honest, I’m still scared. But I miss you more.”

Minho sits up, taking a good look at Kibum. Here is someone he used to spend hours each day bantering with, discovering each other’s ticks and poking fun at one another. Their differences are so great, like opposite poles of a magnet, yet they can’t help but be attracted to each other. Their bold passionate personalities created sparks that burned blazing flames in their core and soul, but the same fire warmed them and gave them comfort when they needed it the most.

To Minho, Kibum looks like his fire needed a little rekindling.

“I missed you too. Do you want to hug? I promise I won’t say something to make you mad.”

His heart stings a little when he notices a subtle flinch. “For real?”

“I promise. Come here.” 

Hesitantly, Kibum approaches his ex-boyfriend, arms shaking as he lifts them to wrap around Minho’s back just as Minho’s bracket him. A waft of cologne hits his nose, calming his senses. This feels nice. It feels right .

“I missed this,” Kibum purrs. “I think I haven’t hugged anyone like this for two years.”

“That’s pretty long.” Minho murmurs. “I’m sorry you had to wait that long. If we didn’t fight you might only need to wait for a year.” 

Kibum barks out a laugh, slapping him on the shoulder and earns a pained ‘ow’ from Minho. “, you think you’re so funny? You’re so lame.”

“Hey, I made you laugh!”

“I’m not laughing,” Kibum chuckles as he buries his nose into the crook of the taller man’s neck. “I’m hugging you.”

Minho deflates with a defeated sigh. “Fine. Do I get a kiss today?”

“Just because it’s Valentine’s doesn’t mean you get a free pass, . You gotta earn it.”

“But I brought you soup!”

“Only someone as unromantic as you would bring galbitang to a Valentine’s dinner. Where’s my chocolate?”

“But you said it’s not a date.”

“It’s not. It’s a dinner on Valentine’s day.”

“Aren’t they the same? Why are we fighting again?”

“Hush!” A great squeeze shuts him up as Kibum makes himself comfortable in his lap. “It’s a debate. Now let me enjoy my hug in peace.”

bumkeyk mentioned you in their story.

LOML @choiminho_1209