"you know, jongdae, i've always wanted to float. to be a leaf and let the wind carry me on its back to wherever it wanted to go."

"you know how to swim, right? you can float on water."

jongdae kicks a pebble. it rolls and skips across the dirt path until it gets lost in a patch of browning, dying grass. he turns to face minseok just as the other reaches out to brush his fingers across the chipping bark of a tree.

the unnoticeably shorter teen shakes his head, returns his hand to his pocket.

"there's a difference. humans... humans are dependent on effort. a muscle needs to be flexed, breathing needs to be controlled." minseok looks at jongdae and, as always, jongdae forgets how to breathe.

there is something undeniably stunning about minseok's eyes that breaks jongdae's mind and makes him unresponsive for minutes on end. it could be the warm mud color of his irises, that lovely brown hue...or it could be the way they glitter when he's amused, when he's annoyed, when he's crying...or it could be their vast depth that shows him the steel cage around minseok's heart and reflects the affection leaking out of his own.

he isn't sure how long he's been lost in those mud eyes but he jerks when a small hand presses against his chest, right where his heart is beating like a broken clock -- tic tic tictictictic tic.

"breathing needs to be controlled," minseok repeats. "jongdae. breathe."

but that makes it all the more difficult and he's left to gasp for air as minseok continues down the trail.

“don’t just stand there, jongdae. i would like to make it back home before dark.”
 

 

everyone knows there is something wrong with minseok. he hasn't smiled since he was a boy, when he and jongdae were still kids who couldn't tie their own shoes without someone’s help. he hasn't laughed. but unlike all the others who think he can't display emotion, jongdae has learned to read those beautiful eyes. and jongdae is sure he knows minseok's feelings better than anyone else.

at least he thinks he does until he finds minseok walking hand in hand with some kid jongdae's seen in the hallways before but doesn't know. the kid has this -eating grin plastered on his face like he just won the lottery and is talking animatedly to an emotionless minseok. he stares at them as they walk in his direction, wishing they were closer so he could figure out what his best friend is feeling from his eyes.

an arm falls heavy on his shoulder but he doesn't turn around. he already knows who it is. jongin.

"what are you looking at, dae?"

he makes no comment, just continues to stare at the two holding hands until they're only meters away and minseok turns his head, meeting his gaze.

"jongdae," minseok says in that blank voice of his.

it's suddenly painful to pretend to smile.

"hey," he sighs. smile strained, he leans into the awkward comfort of his cousin.

"i did not see you in class. are you feeling well?"

jongdae nods and opens his mouth to tell minseok he was helping out a teacher during their first class when the stranger kid leans over and whispers something in minseok's ear.

"ah." minseok looks to the other kid. "i'm sorry. jongdae, this is luhan. luhan, this is my good friend, jongdae."

recognition flashes across luhan's face and he reaches out for a handshake.

"minseok talks about you often. i..." he trails off and looks at minseok for reassurance. the latter only blinks. "nevermind."

jongdae laughs dryly. "he's, uh, never mentioned you but nice to meet you."

"yeah."

a wave of awkward tension settles into the air. they shake hands quickly, uncomfortable smiles on both of their faces.

"so, minseok. how are you today?"

flinching, jongdae reads the relief in minseok's eyes. he forgot his cousin was there.

"i'm fine, jongin. thank you for asking. how about yourself?"




he finds minseok in his usual spot one saturday morning. there is a tree on the outskirts of the park he likes to climb, says there aren't many people who walk that far into the park and he likes the semi-quiet solitude. like always, minseok seems to know he's coming before he has a chance to wave or call out. the quiet boy tilts his head to the side.

"hello," he greets when jongdae is in listening range.

"'sup."

“are you here to join me?” minseok carefully arranges himself so his legs are crossed beneath him on the branch.

jongdae doesn’t understand how he does it.

“actually, i wanted to you ask you something that’s been bugging me these past couple of days.”

minseok says nothing, just stares at jongdae with dreadfully empty eyes.

“i…you…and…and luhan —”

“he asked if he could be my significant other, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

his lips, jongdae shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “yeah…uh. do you actually like him?”

he watches as minseok turns his attention to something behind him and leans against the mass of the tree.

“come and sit with me.”

“that didn’t answer my question.”

“jongdae,” minseok says plainly but he hears the warning all the same.

he never was skilled in the art of tree-climbing. a harsh fall back to the ground and a couple of scrapes and scratches later, he finds himself on the same large branch.

“i like him the same as i do you.”

jongdae freezes, confused and clinging desperately to the branch. when he takes his eyes off the ground long enough to look to minseok, the latter is already at the bottom of the tree. he makes to follow but minseok tells him to stop.

“enjoy the breeze, jongdae. it’s a lovely morning.”

and then he’s gone and jongdae’s still up in the tree and he suddenly feels like he doesn’t know minseok at all.
 

 

finding himself running the errands of his homeroom teacher again, jongdae finds himself lingering at the front of a classroom he’s never needed to be in before. the teacher for the class seems to be running late. and if that isn’t annoying enough, he learns this is luhan’s class.

luhan is sitting in the middle of the classroom, caught in conversation with his classmates. here, jongdae notes, he doesn’t seem to full of that deliriously happy spirit that he has when he’s with minseok. and that is enough to drive jongdae into the bad habit of eavesdropping.

"he's precious."

"he's a freak,” a kid with black wire-framed glasses says.

luhan jolts as if he was seconds away from standing and possibly causing an altercation but thought better of it. “he is not a freak,” he defends and even from a distance, jongdae can pick up on the animosity in his voice. but then he drops to a whisper and the teacher jongdae needs to deliver papers to walks in and he misses the rest of the conversation.

there are two things he knows for sure.

one: they were talking about minseok

two: luhan actually cares for his confusing best friend.

 

 

 

his thighs are screaming, having ran for almost twenty minutes straight, and his lungs are rasping for air and he wishes they both would shut up because he can’t hear himself think. the quaint woman beside him has her small hands wrapped around his elbow, shaking his arm mercilessly and begging him to get him down, please just get my baby down. he can’t exactly do anything when she’s clinging to him with no intention to let go.

he looks up to minseok sitting on the roof, legs curled beneath him. jongdae isn’t immediately bothered because he knows minseok has a penchant for climbing things and being in high places but her anxiety is crippling. minseok’s mother digs her nails into his skin and that’s when he rips his arm away. he promises to get him to come down…he just has to find a way to get up there.

"you know, jongdae, i've always wanted to float. to be a leaf and let the wind carry me on its back to wherever it wanted to go,” minseok says when jongdae finally flops onto the roof, ladder borrowed from a man across the street unstable against the side of the house.

and where he was confused back in the forest, now he’s concerned, not liking the static dull of minseok’s eyes or the far away tone of his voice.

so he does what he doesn’t do best: he tries to defuse the situation. "you know how to swim, right? you can float on water."

there is silence for an unmarked stretch of time. jongdae finds the courage to inch closer to minseok and sits with his knees drawn in to his chest. he listens to the soft panting of minseok’s breathing and then something both amazing and terrifying happens.

minseok laughs.

he never thought he would hear it again, after all of these years, and the reality of the other’s quiet chuckles and timid smile doesn’t completely sink in until minseok’s small hand covers his own.

“jongdae,” minseok pries apart his fingers and twines their hands together, “breathe.”

and then he’s in air with more gusto than if he were drowning. again. as always. he really can’t help himself because he’s never seen minseok’s face glow like that and he doesn’t like to curse but, , if minseok isn’t the most beautiful person to ever exist.

“sorry, i —”

“jongdae.”

he blinks. the smile is gone but the older boy’s eyes are still filled with blaring radiance, shimmer, sparkle, shine.

“yeah?”

minseok shifts closer still. a police car comes to park on the street across from the house. jongdae raises his brows inquisitively, surprised minseok’s mother called the police. minseok only stares at it blankly before facing the former.

“will you remember to breathe, for me?”

the question doesn’t make sense to him but it doesn’t matter because minseok’s fingers are on the curve of his cheekbones, minseok’s lips are on his temple, on the tip of his nose, on the corner of his mouth.

 

and maybe that was his strategy. to distract him. to fool him into thinking everything is okay.
 

 

jongdae walks into school one morning and his entire world is turned upside down. over the last few weeks he’s come to tolerate minseok and luhan holding hands but he’s surprised at their matching expressions, unsure of what to think of luhan’s dead countenance. he feels like he shouldn’t be, because the chinese boy is his enemy, but he’s concerned about the complete change.

“hello, jongdae.” minseok nods his head.

“good morning,” luhan greets. his voice clearly expresses his fatigue and that eases jongdae’s worry a bit.

“why are you so worn out?”

luhan opens his mouth but spoken words come from minseok.

“his attitude is very peculiar. i think it’s because we engaged in ua—”

and then luhan, eyes wide and tiredness suddenly wiped from his face, clasps his hand over minseok’s mouth. it’s much too late, though.

“we…uh,” luhan tries to save the conversation because he knows jongdae loves minseok as well but the effort makes the broken declaration that much more true.

suddenly struck with a foul taste in his mouth, jongdae excuses himself. luhan yells out apologies but he ignores every single last one. luhan really isn’t sorry and they both know it.

jongdae tells himself he can live with it because minseok is happy.

jongdae tells himself he’ll one day get over minseok.

jongdae tells himself luhan is a great guy and will treat minseok well.

jongdae tells himself a load of bull and lies to make himself feel better.
 

 

a month later luhan tracks him down when he’s walking to his physical education class and says he’s sorry. for everything. for all of the pain he’s caused jongdae before. and for all of the pain jongdae will feel later.

jongdae doesn’t understand.

 

minseok’s mother calls him, hysterical about her son sitting on the roof of their house again. jongdae tells her to calm down, that he’ll come down when he feels like it. he almost tells her to call luhan but at the last minute decides against it.
 

 

they’re in the forest again on a warm sunday afternoon. minseok links their fingers together. jongdae’s heart betrays him and skips out of time.

“i’ve always wanted to sing,” minseok says randomly.

jongdae raises a brow. “really? you should sing something for me.”

minseok raises their hands and kisses jongdae’s knuckles.

“i will. some day.”
 

 

he finds a torn edge of a piece of paper in one of his notebooks. it’s written in simple script. from minseok

it reads:

will you remember to breathe, for me?

he can’t even ask what his friend means because he isn’t at school.
 

 

he thinks minseok is a terrible person because it’s been hours and he’s still choking over air. both of their mothers are in the kitchen downstairs but he can hear their sobs through the flooring. jongdae himself can’t cry. his eyes are wet but the tears won’t fall. no matter how long he sits there on minseok’s bed, nearly hyperventilating, they’ll probably never fall. his chest hurts, his heart is palpitating, and god, if he isn’t dying himself he doesn’t want to know what dying feels like.

the few photos that line minseok’s bureau all feature him. he’s usually the only one smiling in them but there is one picture when they’re six and they both have these stretched-too-wide grins. looking at that picture brings another wave of emotion crashing down upon him and he shudders through a gasp.

he doesn’t even want to think how long minseok was planning it. if it had only been a couple weeks, if it was months, if it was for years. he doesn’t want to think how they found him, found the both of them, in luhan’s bedroom, holding hands and the same dead expression on their faces. he doesn’t want to think about any of it.

but then he suddenly remembers luhan’s apology that day however many months ago. and he thinks about how he would have never guessed it about the chinese boy with the -eating grin and sparkling love for minseok in his eyes.

he thinks about how they were perfect for each other.


he thinks about how minseok always told him to breathe.


he thinks about how now minseok may actually get to float on the back of a passing breeze.


he thinks about how, sitting in minseok’s bedroom, the sound he hears mixed in with the harsh panting of his unstable breathing, just may be minseok singing.