Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The first thing Mingyu has the displeasure of seeing when he gets home is Seungcheol, a face mask painted on and a disappointed glare in his eyes, even through the cracks of the clay mask.

“So. You’re back.”

Mingyu snorts, pulling his luggage with him and pushing past Seungcheol in the doorway. “Do you state the obvious now?”

He can almost picture Seungcheol rolling his eyes. He sets his suitcase in the corner, tossing his backpack down with it and rolling his shoulders. The crack in his back is as worrying as it is welcome, the movement allowing him to stretch out his stiff and cramped limbs.

Mingyu tosses his hoodie into the laundry basket, making a face at how quickly the summer heat settles into his skin. He’s sweating already, but Jeonghan is probably worse off, the most easily affected by even the slightest change in temperature.

“Are you back?”

That’s an odd question. Mingyu tells Seungcheol as such before going back to stand in the doorway and staring. “What are you doing?”

Jeonghan blinks at him, looking up from where he had previously been staring at the threshold. “Huh?”

Mingyu shakes his head, taking Jeonghan’s suitcase from him and sending it careening into his room, stopping when it hits Mingyu’s own. “Come on, come inside. I’ll steal Minghao’s car to drive you back in the morning.”

“No, you won’t!” Minghao calls out, at the same time that Seungcheol whips back around, surprise painted in his eyes where the mask limits the mobility of his facial muscles. “How did you know Minghao was here?”

The parking garage is on the other side. Mingyu and Jeonghan had walked the shorter route, wanting to get out of the heat sooner, for Jeonghan; and wanting to get Jeonghan some rest, for Mingyu.

“You only take breaks for yourself when Minghao makes you,” Mingyu states plainly, still in the process of tugging Jeonghan inside. “Ya, Yoon Jeonghan, it’s five in the morning and you haven’t slept in the past twenty four hours, do you really think I trust you to be able to drive back on your own?”

Jeonghan comes quietly after that, staring at Mingyu with an unreadable look in his eyes.

He sets his stuff down next to Mingyu’s, standing awkwardly to the side, like he doesn’t frequent Mingyu’s room to study when he’s fed up with his own apartment. He exhales heavily, setting Mingyu’s hoodie to the side before he sinks down, crouching as he runs both his hands through his hair before he lets it hang, a dark curtain from Mingyu’s sight.

Mingyu swallows, closing the door quietly behind them before he kneels down next to him. “Hey. You okay?”

Jeonghan tips forward, the crown of his head pressed against Mingyu’s stomach as their only point of contact. “Mhmm. Headache.”

“And you were trying to drive away with that, huh?”

Mingyu lifts his hands, one coming up to cradle his head, the other running through his hair, nails gently trailing at his scalp. “You should shower before you sleep,” he reminds him. “Covid, remember?”

He shakes his head, hair tickling the tips of Mingyu’s ribs through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Like little butterflies, maybe, flitting around Mingyu’s heart.

“Should shower now,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t make a move to get up.

Mingyu hums, hands trailing through his hair, nails brushing gently against his scalp as he tries to rub the pain away.

“Come on,” he says, words as gentle as his hands. “I’ll help you.”

Jeonghan lifts his head slightly, blinking slowly, frowning when Mingyu’s hands still. “Help?”

“If you need it,” Mingyu explains, hiding a smile at how he relaxes again when Mingyu’s hands start moving again. “Hmm?”

“Okay.”

Mingyu pulls him to his feet, hands coming to rest around his waist as he waddles them over to the bathroom. He closes the door behind them while Jeonghan sits on the toilet seat, basking in the cold of porcelain against flushed skin.

The summer heat always hit him harder.

He tilts his head when Mingyu doesn’t turn on the lights, opening the curtains across the window next to the shower instead. The sunrise is faint, the blue already lightening as colors peak out from under the horizon. Heat drips like honey, sticky and filling any crevice it hasn’t already, basking in the warmth of soft skin.

Jeonghan blinks, lifting his hands sleepily as Mingyu pulls his shirt off. He kicks his shorts off shortly after, sitting back down on the toilet seat in just underwear. his hands creep to the end, pressing his hands over the tattoos Mingyu has only glimpsed in passing. Faint lines, but the colors have always run deeper. “Aren’t you going to shower too?”

Mingyu shakes himself out of his thoughts, eyes flitting from tan skin and fading ink to brown eyes and softer brown hair. “You okay with showering together?”

Jeonghan’s hands scrunch up into fists, tugging his nails further down slightly before holding his hand in place. “I—”

“You don’t have to,” Mingyu rushes to say, because the last thing he wants to do is make him uncomfortable, letting his shirt hang off his wrists where his hands are still in the sleeves.

He’s quick to shake his head though. “It’s not that, but—can we not be fully…?”

He trails off, looking up at Mingyu imploringly instead, shining eyes imploring him to finish the sentence for him.

“We can locker room shower?” He offers, slowly pushing the shirt up his arms. They might have slept together half naked in that hotel room in Thailand, but that was a different time. Different place. Jeonghan had initiated it, comfortably too.

Jeonghan pauses for a minute, hand coming up to trace the outline of Mingyu’s abs, lingering on the scar from the surgery he had had done to remove his appendix when he was younger.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “It’s easier to just shower normally, isn’t it?”

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with,” Mingyu agrees.

“I agreed,” he mumbles, looking up. He lifts a hand to flick Mingyu’s bangs, amused with how they fall over his eyes again.

Mingyu hums, pulling him to his feet with arms under his shoulders, biting back his smile at how Jeonghan falls against him with a content sigh. “Aren’t you hot like this?”

He nods his head, rubbing his nose against Mingyu’s shoulder.

“You’re hotter,” he retorts sleepily, words muffled against Mingyu’s skin.

He laughs the compliment off because he knows better than to take Jeonghan’s sleepy words too seriously.

“You’re so tired,” he says fondly, pushing the end of Jeonghan’s hair off where it’s pressed between his cheek and Mingyu’s shoulder, the ends poking his chest. It leaves them pressed together with nearly nothing to separate them, soft skin pressed against soft skin.

He pulls Jeonghan closer, balancing precariously as he reaches over to run the water, undressing and tossing their clothes in the laundry basket, stepping away slightly to turn the temperature down. Jeonghan slumps forward into the gap, cheek squished against Mingyu’s shoulder as he flicks Mingyu’s necklace once, twice, before looping his arms around to unhook it.

Skin slightly damp with sweat, almost sticky, but not quite. Hands burning where they press against Mingyu’s back. Neither of them looks down, Mingyu’s eyes lingering on his tattoos instead.

The red spider lily on his shoulder. The universe along his spine.

He lifts a hand to run through Jeonghan’s hair as he pulls him into the shower, lingering on the compass behind his ear.

Mingyu yelps, tripping and crashing into Jeonghan when he feels how cold the water is. Jeonghan just giggles, steadying Mingyu and turning them around so he can stand under the showerhead first. He shivers once as the cold water touches his skin but relaxes under it easily enough.

“I don’t know how you’re doing that,” Jeonghan grumbles, pouring the shampoo into his hand. He reaches up to scrub it over Jeonghan’s scalp, letting him rinse it out under the cold spray while he cleans his own hair. “It’s still too cold.”

“It feels nice,” Mingyu murmurs, pushing his bangs from his eyes. Jeonghan looks away just before their eyes meet.

They switch, Jeonghan complaining the entire way about how cold the water is until Mingyu turns it up slightly and Jeonghan decides the warmth of his hands is enough and turns the water temperature back down.

Jeonghan hands him the body wash and loofah next, blinking when Mingyu turns them back around, so Jeonghan is under the showerhead once more. He inhales sharply, holding his breath as he taps his fingers against his veins when Mingyu’s hand settles on his shoulder, the other rubbing the loofah across his chest. He washes Jeonghan’s body almost methodically, until the summer heat has settled back against his skin and the warmth is unbearable.

Jeonghan holds his hand out for the loofah, returning the favor. He’s far from methodical, tracing across Mingyu’s physique like a painter, absentmindedly. Mingyu is his canvas, and his hands are the art, perhaps.

It would be his greatest work of art.

He’s just as much of a tease as he’s always been, turning Mingyu around and scrubbing his back before tickling him until Mingyu is clinging onto him, laughing so hard that they’re both seconds from slipping in the wet tub.

“You’re terrible,” Jeonghan grumbles, rinsing any lingering soap off both of them before turning the shower off. “How do you shower with such cold water?”

He regrets the words as soon as he says them, the heat amplified by how pleasant the cold water had felt against their skin.

Mingyu snorts, stepping out of the shower to grab their towels. He drapes Jeonghan’s across his head before drying his hair roughly.

“It felt nice though,” he mutters. Jeonghan agrees, dressing silently. He hides his smile at Jeonghan’s sudden bout of energy, the way his eyes seem brighter now, despite how warm it is. He offers Jeonghan a pair of shorts and a t- shirt, laughing at how loosely it sits on Jeonghan’s frame.

“You’re going to have to start going to the gym again to fit into this,” Mingyu teases, poking his bare shoulder where the sleeve has slipped off.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, mimes biting Mingyu’s shoulder when he sits down on the bed. “Just because I’m not competing with Minghao and Shua to see who has the broadest chest doesn’t mean I’m not stronger.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, fingers trailing along the back of his knee and smiling when Jeonghan jerks away, laughing at the ticklish sensation.

Jeonghan pouts, flopping on the bed. He flicks Mingyu’s waistband with his feet, squirming away when Mingyu flops on top of him.

“Okay, so maybe I’m not competing with you about how many watermelons I can crush with my thighs either, but I can outscore you any day.”

Heat seeps between them, even through the thin cotton of Jeonghan’s t-shirt between them.

“I can play soccer too, hyung,” he drawls.

Jeonghan grins, all teeth. It’s closer to meeting his eyes than it’s ever been before, as cool as the air conditioning that just turns on.

“I know,” he whispers, so inexplicably sweet against Mingyu’s jawline, making himself comfortable as the fatigue sets in.

Mingyu sighs.

The heat settles against their skin quicker this time. He turns the air conditioning up and pulls Jeonghan closer, clinging onto him as sleep clings to them both.

This is a welcome warmth.

It isn’t quite dread, at the thought of the returning semester that Mingyu grapples with as he stares at his phone calendar, but it isn’t not dread either.

Jeonghan has already returned to his lab, meeting with his department advisor biweekly about his thesis. He’s busy, settled into that routine that he despises so, and yet thriving in it. Really, the only downside of their differing career paths is how little time Jeonghan has when Mingyu is free and how little time Mingyu has when Jeonghan is free.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, appears to be fed up with Mingyu’s moping.

“If you miss him so much, go do something about it.”

Mingyu scowls, setting down his phone and pretending he doesn’t see the lecture on neuroanatomy penciled in for a week from now. He’s reviewed what he needs to, and it really just is a matter of time at this point, but dreading the wait is perhaps just something he does on principle at this point.

“He’s busy.”

Seungcheol snorts, looking up from his laptop. His glasses have slipped down his nose, the blue light lenses with rose gold frames that Minghao picked out for him when he switched to contacts.

“You have his schedule memorized and you’re telling me you can’t seem to find time to meet with him?”

Mingyu pouts, flopping on the sofa next to him. “You’re mean.”

“Good, you should fear me.”

He doesn’t have to look to the side to know that Seungcheol is rolling his eyes at him. Fine, it’s not like that doesn’t prove Mingyu’s point anyway.

“Fine, let me put it this way: I’m kicking you out. Go bother Jeonghannie instead of sitting here and reminding me that you’re some kind of natural born genius when it comes to memorizing things.”

Mingyu rolls to the side, poking Seungcheol with his foot.

“I’m a year behind you, hyung. You already went through this. Jeonghan hyung saw how hard it was for me to memorize everything. He’s the one that’s amazing at memorizing—he beat you too.”

Seungcheol sighs, closing his laptop and setting it aside.

“Mingyu,” he starts slowly. Mingyu raises an eyebrow, waiting. It’s too hot for him to be rolling around on the sofa like this, but he really doesn’t have anything to do over the weekend. His rounds at the hospital finished for the week, and with the preparation for his classes finished, his free time has turned into something of a nuisance. “Go bother Jeonghannie.”

Mingyu pouts for the sake of it, throwing his legs over the back of the sofa and hanging upside down with his head against the seat.

“Are you kicking me out?”

“Get out!”

He rolls off the sofa, a kind of backwards somersault that Seungcheol is likely jealous of, if his scoff is anything to go by. He trades the oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts for clothing more appropriate to wear outside, fixing his overgrown perm as best as he can before he grabs his keys and his wallet, swinging the door shut behind him. He ignores whatever Seungcheol calls out to him, sweating as the summer sun hits him. He practically runs down the stairs, only to crash into the person at the base of them.

Hands settle his at his waist, brown eyes widening as they meet him. “Mingyu-yah?”

“Sorry—Jeonghan hyung?”

“Where are you going?”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “Seungcheol kicked me out to go bother you instead. Where were you going?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Nowhere. My a.c.’s broken.”

“For how long?”

Jeonghan stays quiet, looking down at Mingyu’s collarbones instead. Mingyu takes advantage of his hands around his waist to step closer to Jeonghan, raising an eyebrow.

“Hyung. How long?”

Jeonghan shrugs again, squirming in Mingyu’s hold. “Few weeks.”

Mingyu stares at him incredulously. “Since we got back?”

They’ve only been gone for a week and a half.

“Maybe a little before that,” he mumbles. “It’s fine.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “It most definitely is not fine. Jeonghan hyung, what the hell?”

“It’s too expensive to be looking for a new apartment right now,” he mutters, hands tapping against Mingyu’s sides. “And I like the view.”

He pouts, like the glass walls around his exposing the colors of the city sky at every hour of the day can make up for the fact that he looks severely dehydrated. Not to mention, exhausted.

“Hyung, you’re always busy with lab work. You need the sleep in between—if your apartment is always stuffy and ninety degrees, there’s no way you’re sleeping well.”

Jeonghan hums noncommittally. “My advisor sent me back. Said I had a few more weeks of vacation to use up for this year before they send me off again in December.”

Mingyu grins a little when he thinks about Jeonghan’s advisor, a short lady with a new hair color every month and a sleeve of tattoos, shooing Jeonghan out of the lab while synthwave and outrun music plays in the background, the neon strip lights around the baseboard transitioning from red to blue. The one time Mingyu spoke to her, she mentioned something about wanting to defy all the expectations of academia.

Yeah, she’s really a character.

But they’re not wrong—Jeonghan jumped straight into work after a two week stint that was already emotionally exhausting enough to explain to Mingyu the first time around. There’s no doubt he’s even more tired now, even physically, after dragging himself to labs and lectures without a working air conditioning unit or enough sleep.

“Well, she was right,” Mingyu decides. “Do you really think you’re performing at your best with heatstroke?”

Jeonghan pouts, rocking side to side on his feet. “I don’t have heatstroke.”

“Yet.”

He doesn’t dispute this point. There are two future doctors between them, he would know. Not to mention, Mingyu knows how poor Jeonghan’s tolerance to the heat is.

He leans back, dropping his hands from Jeonghan’s waist before he takes a step back. He takes Jeonghan’s hand, pulling him away from his apartment complex.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s cool you down.”

Jeonghan lets his lead the way, walking up the steep inclines of the Seoul streets easily, like each step doesn’t punch the air out of his lungs.

Their short hike out of the busy streets lined with parked cars and short driveways leads them to a small park off to the side, trees overgrown all around it. It’s not the closest to Seungcheol and Mingyu’s neighborhood, but it’s still Mingyu’s favorite place to go to for a view of the sunset.

Not that the view of the ocean in the distance ever gets old, it’s really one of the few things that can be called timeless.

Jeonghan sits down on the swing kicking off with his legs.

“There’s a nice breeze,” he murmurs.

Mingyu sits down next to him, letting the breeze do more of the work while Jeonghan swings higher and higher, the chains rattling as he passes the half circle point.

“It’s the best view of the sunset,” he adds, talking for the sake of it.

Jeonghan hums, leaning back in the swing, letting the wind catch on his hair. “You can still see the ocean from here too.”

Mingyu picks his feet up, swinging a little higher. You can see the ocean from here. He’s more entranced by the colors of the sky and the way they sparkle like stars in dark brown eyes, but the ocean is all Jeonghan has eyes for.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Mingyu shrugs. “Don’t thank me yet—you’re getting a roommate until your aircon’s fixed.”

Jeonghan doesn’t look at him, slowing the swing down with legs dangling carelessly off the edge.

“Thank you,” he repeats. “I don’t think I say it enough—sulking like a little kid doesn’t mean you’d understand that I’m grateful for you.”

“If this is about finding Aecha—”

Jeonghan snorts, shaking his head, letting go of one the chains to run a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his eyes.

“Hardly. You’re a good friend and you deserve to hear it when I’m not hyper focused on something that doesn’t even make sense.”

Mingyu locks his arms around the chains, tracing the path two birds take as they weave through the branches of the tree, chasing each other in a dance under the fading periwinkle sky.

“It makes sense to you, doesn’t it?”

Jeonghan laughs easily, and it’s genuine—Mingyu doesn’t know why this surprises him; Jeonghan’s always laughed so easily, the wrong words at the right time, before he dissolves into peals of it—but it—

“—doesn’t make sense to me either.” He finishes the thought out loud, tilting his head as he looks at Mingyu.

“Why pediatric psychiatry?”

Why not pediatric psychiatry might’ve been a question Mingyu could have answered. There’s more to his reasoning than just Jeonghan’s struggles. The more he leans toward the specialty, the less it reminds his of Jeonghan, actually.

“It felt right,” he admits. “I’ve watched all kinds of adults struggle with things they shouldn’t have to struggle with. Things that should’ve been addressed when they were kids. And all things considered, I knew I wanted to work in a field where I could see the difference in the person, rather than their physical condition. Kids are easy, you know?”

Jeonghan nods, not in agreement but as a sign to continue.

“I never had any sibling fights either and it’s not like I know if I’ll be a dad someday, so this made sense. I didn’t know, when I entered med school, what I would specialize in, but this is my third year, so. Seeing how passionate Seungkwan was about what he wanted to do helped too, I guess.”

He cuts himself off, twisting his fingers together. “Can’t it just make sense?”

“It does,” Jeonghan muses, hooking his legs around the chains to hang upside down on the swing, the end of his shirt falling into his face. He makes a face, pushing the fabric back down—or up, since he’s upside down—and settles for tucking the end of it under the band of his shorts, fed up with the fabric getting in the way. “That’s why I asked.”

“Huh?”

“It makes more sense than any other specialty Seungcheol suggested when you were looking into residency programs. Plus, you’re emotionally aware.”

Mingyu snorts. “Just because you’re emotionally immune to movies doesn’t mean I’m emotionally aware.”

“I cry at animal movies,” Jeonghan points out. “You cried over a happy ending. It was happy, why would I cry about that?”

He turns away, cheeks burning at the memory. Jeonghan, half asleep, leaning against the wall while Mingyu had tried to sniff quietly, only to realize Jeonghan had been facing him already.

“You’re such a menace, Yoon Jeonghan, seriously; you’re the one that asked for this! Everyone cries at animal movies—if you didn’t, you’d be a psychopath!”

Jeonghan laughs harder, curling upward and complaining about the pain of crunching and laughing at the same time, dropping his legs, and pulling himself back to sit in the swing.

“You’re so cute, Mingoo-yah; it’s not an insult,” he murmurs.

Mingyu freezes, heat rushing to his cheeks, eyes wide like some kind of fish as he gapes at Jeonghan, staring at the line of his neck, head thrown back as he laughs. his short nails against the swing chains, the blue paint chipping off his middle finger, but the red on his thumb still just as perfect as the day he painted them. His glasses sitting higher on the right side because the metal frames he bought were small for his nose, but he liked the way they looked too much to not get them. The length of his legs, kicked out in front of him. Tattoos trailing down his ribs, peeking out from where they would normally be hidden behind his hair, behind his ear.

“Aww,” he drawls, and Mingyu knows whatever nonsense Jeonghan is about to spew will ruin the moment, his fear of being vulnerable getting the best of him. He leans over precariously between their swings, his own chain twisting at the angle, just to press a finger to his lips.

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

Your moment, is what he really means. Jeonghan knows.

He always does.

He smiles behind the finger, miming biting it before pushing Mingyu back to his swing. He doesn’t even bother to stifle his laugh when Mingyu spins a little off center, the twisted chains coming back to bite him.

In return for his smile, Mingyu doesn’t threaten to shave his eyebrows off, though he does most certainly think about it when he feels the swing tip precariously forward, nearly throwing him off and at the very least, catching his arms in the metal links.

“I hate you.”

Words have never meant anything.

“You love me.”

Not when they mean everything.

The sunset doesn’t linger the way their smiles do, fading fast into the late summer night. Mingyu is the first to get off the swing, just as the song ends, fading into a gentle instrumental that bids summer goodbye with a sigh.

He does, of course. It isn’t even a question at this point.

Jeonghan leans back between Mingyu’s legs, resting his head against Mingyu’s thigh. Minghao raises an eyebrow that Mingyu pointedly ignores, taking the drink from Seungcheol with a smile and the promise of more to come later.

Jeonghan makes a face, picking up his own drink from the coaster by his knee. He spins the coaster around with his finger, pressing his cheek to Mingyu’s knee. Mingyu hides a laugh when Seungcheol scowls at him, hand falling to run through Jeonghan’s hair instead.

“So!” Soonyoung’s voice is loud and booming as always, but never painfully so. “Gyugyu!”

Mingyu winces. “Never call me that again.”

“Gyugyu!” He repeats, as if Mingyu hadn’t even spoken. “When are you going to—” He makes a vague hand gesture that could easily also be mistaken for something cruder, if Mingyu didn’t already know what he’s trying to get at. “—you know?”

Seungcheol snorts. “Kwon Hoshi, eloquent as ever. They don’t have you teaching songwriting, do they?”

That fires Jihoon up. “Ya! You brat, no writing when you’re drunk. No composing when you’re drunk either. Actually, no more music. All your songs are about tigers.”

“My tigers…” Soonyoung wails, turning balefully on Jihoon.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “You’re drunk, Hoshi-yah. And not everyone wants a tiger anthem.”

Mingyu can’t control his laughter when Soonyoung’s eyes start to tear up. “Horanghae—”

Seungcheol hands him a glass of water before he can start crying over that questionable quote of his own design.

“Sorry, he’s had a weird week at work. Nothing personal, Hoshi, just that some clients had particularly tragic stories surrounding their tattoos.”

Soonyoung is too busy haggling with Jihoon to care. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow—Seungcheol looked at him as he said it.

“Why are you looking at me?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “You know why.”

Jeonghan shrugs, waving it off. “Only one design could be perceived as sad anyway. I just thought the rest were pretty.”

Mingyu’s hand stills in his hair. Just off the top of his head, he can count two that are sadder than Jeonghan has let on, and that’s not including the others he wants and those he already has that he just hasn’t said anything at all about.

Jeonghan hums, tilting his head back until the back of his head rests against the seat. Mingyu’s hands fall to his neck, caressing his throat with his thumbs.

“Just one, hmm?”

Jeonghan smiles. Lilac. Colors shatter too easily in the night. “The others are more explicit, sometimes.”

Mingyu mirrors his smile, watching as the corner of Jeonghan’s lips twitch. “Sometimes?”

“Other times, they’re just colorful,” he sings, tapping the tip of Mingyu’s nose. “You have a nice nose.”

Mingyu giggles. “You’ve mentioned it before.”

Jeonghan shrugs, blinking slowly. “Huh. Don’t remember that. Guess you did.”

This time, Mingyu’s smile melts.

“Of course, I remember,” he murmurs, but the room is too loud, and he wonders if Jeonghan heard him at all.

“Mingyu~”

Ah, Seungcheol has always been persistent. He’s taking advantage of Soonyoung’s distraction to corner Mingyu again, apparently.

“I’ll tell him when you do,” Mingyu shoots back, with a meaningful glance in Minghao’s direction that his best friend misses entirely. Seungcheol isn’t so fortunate, picking up on the meaning of that glance immediately.

“Not yet!” He jumps up suddenly, pointing his glass at Jeonghan. “Would you marry someone?”

Mingyu stifles a laugh as Seungcheol’s lips purse into a pout, Jeonghan’s eyes widening comically.

“Huh?!”

“Yeah! Before they were ready.”

Jeonghan snorts, leaning back against Mingyu’s legs. “Ya, Choi Seungcheol! I’m not marrying anyone.”

Mingyu bites his lip, looking away, just in time for Minghao to leap to his feet, snatching the glass from Seungcheol before the soju sloshes from it.

“God, you get so drunk,” he murmurs to Seungcheol. “You really think I didn’t see the websites, huh?”

Seungcheol mumbles something back incoherently, stewing over ruining his own surprise. He’s staring back at Minghao though, arm loosely wrapped around the taller man’s waist.

“We share our finances,” Minghao murmurs, and Mingyu looks away.

He wonders why it’s that domestic line that makes him feel like he’s intruding, especially when they’ve quite nearly made out on the pier for pictures in the past. Jeonghan stands up, straightening his shorts.

“I think I’ll head out,” he muses, glancing at the couple with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. Mingyu reaches up thoughtlessly, pressing his finger there to straighten the ends.

“Already?”

Jeonghan glances back at Minghao and Seungcheol. Mingyu doesn’t. “They look busy.”

“I’ll come with you—we can walk around Han River?”

Jeonghan hums. “If you want.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what to say to that. Jeonghan’s air conditioning still isn’t working, but he refused to stay with Mingyu out of convenience and since the weather was cooling down anyway. He doesn’t know if he’s wanted on this walk or if they’ve spent too much time together lately. Jeonghan’s far more introverted than him to begin with, and as it is, he rarely says no to Mingyu. Maybe this is his limit—maybe he just needs a break from Mingyu.

“I never wanted a wedding as a kid,” Jeonghan muses, stretching his arms above his head, the thin hoodie rising with it. Mingyu traces the hanja along his obliques, running down his ribs, tearing his eyes from his sharply when Jeonghan looks back at him. “Used to tell my parents I’d sic my kids—their grandkids, really—on them because I thought they were being too strict. I guess somewhere along the way I realized I’d need a husband to have kids in that way. Or, you know.”

Mingyu nods. “Heteronormativity.”

He shrugs, picking up his socks from under the end table. “Maybe. I think it was more than that, at least in high school and undergrad.”

Mingyu perches himself on the arm of the sofa, leaning back slightly to get his hair off where it’s sticking to his neck and wonders if the skyline behind him would cradle him if he fell. If the view upside down in that brief half a moment of weightlessness would be worth it before he hit his head against the hardwood.

“Sexuality can change,” he points out quietly. “It’s fluid—you don’t have to have it all figured out. You never have to have it all figured out.”

Jeonghan holds onto the wall with one hand, balancing on one leg as he shoves his foot into his sneakers. “You didn’t.”

Mingyu leans back further. “I didn’t.”

Jeonghan is still staring at him, one shoe on, the other upside down by his foot. “Did you ever want to get married?”

He wonders what color this feeling is, teetering on the edge of an abyss he’s only just climbed out of.

“I don’t know if it was marriage that I wanted—” He throws his head back, the ends of his hair poking the small of his back, below the hem of his tank top. “—but the idea of forever sounds nice.”

Jeonghan scoffs, and Mingyu knows. As close as they are, this is something they’ll never agree on. Mingyu’s forever a hopeful romantic and Jeonghan is hopeless, spiteful, and bitter to the end, yet just as romantic. He hates admitting what Mingyu dreams of openly, and there’s a reason they don’t talk about it.

“I know you don’t think forever exists—”

“That’s not it.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, head rolling back to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Then?”

Jeonghan shakes his head, bending down to pick up his other shoe, momentarily forgotten. “Nothing, it’s just… you. It suits you. Like, of course, you would say something like that.”

His eyes narrow. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, pulling the lace through the bow. “It’s not a bad thing, Mingyu-yah. It’s just such a you thing to say, is all.”

“A me thing to say,” Mingyu echoes blankly.

Jeonghan nods, straightening. One of his shoelaces, threaded in a bow, is longer than the other. He doesn’t fix it.

“You see the world differently from the rest of us, Mingoo,” Jeonghan hums nonchalantly, glancing at the skyline differently. “Or maybe it’s the world that sees you. Either way, it’s nice. You’re nice.”

That’s you, Mingyu wants to say.

Words drenched in color and dreams dripping in the same stardust that has painstakingly constructed the universe—how could it not be?

And then he looks at Mingyu, “Are you coming?”

Oh.

Mingyu nods wordlessly, slipping on his sneakers and shoving his heel down when the back of his shoe won’t bend. He slips his phone into the light jacket he picks up from the back of the sofa, one of Jeonghan’s from a few visits ago.

No matter how hot the summer gets, the Han River breeze always finds its way home.

He nods at Minghao, who’s murmuring quietly to Seungcheol, arms wrapped around each other as they lean against the breakfast counter. Seungcheol holds up his hand and Mingyu responds in kind, keys dangling from his finger as confirmation that he won’t be locking himself out.

Jeonghan waits for him at the landing on the stairs, sitting on the railing with one leg hooked around the bars. He’s balanced precariously and Mingyu wants nothing more than to understand what he keeps holding on to.

What’s holding him back?

“Sooyoung called,” he finally says, sliding off the railing when Mingyu reaches the last step of that half flight of stairs.

“What’d she say?”

“Don’t know. Missed the call,” he murmurs, finally turning back to Mingyu. “Did you ever want a brother instead? Or an older sibling?”

Mingyu tilts his head, arm instinctively wrapping around Jeonghan’s bicep as the older man slides off the railing, his fears getting the best of him. “I have Sua.”

It’s not what Jeonghan’s asking, but he can’t say what he doesn’t know.

“Maybe I did, as a kid. I don’t mind so much now, I think.” his hand lingers as they walk down the stairs, slowly pulling away when Jeonghan steps out of reach briefly to pluck a flower from the tree, tucking it behind Mingyu’s ear. “How’s she doing?”

Jeonghan shrugs, taking the steps two at a time. his feet land heavy on each step, the platform of his chunky sneakers making a loud thud, the opposite of his normally quiet steps. “She’s an adult now; she can tell me how she’s doing before she asks me for something.”

“She’s five years younger than you, right?”

Jeonghan hums, lifting his phone up to take a picture of the sunset. “Yeah. Summer baby. She’s been light years ahead since she started high school though, so not much of a baby really.”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to hum, tucking his hands in his pockets and following Jeonghan down the streets to Potrero. The sunset follows them, trails of pink and orange fading into purple, burnt into a darker blue.

Blue hour settles quickly, weaving itself under their skin and in the spaces between. The silence that spills between them weighs heavy on Mingyu’s shoulders.

“She’s the reason I chose neurolinguistics, actually,” Jeonghan offers quietly, skipping over a step. Children’s laughter drifts around them from the park across the street, gentle and high pitched at the same time. “You know my mom started learning Japanese when her mom moved there and then I picked it up too, right?”

Mingyu nods slowly, tugging Jeonghan back onto the pavement when a car drives by. “Right.”

“We all stopped when Sooyoung was born. She had a speech delay, so we all switched to Korean to make it easier for her, since that’s the language she’d need to know for school anyway. My parents took her to a neurolinguist and a speech pathologist and all they could say was that she had a speech delay and she’d probably catch up once he started school, but if she was still struggling, then they could possibly consider having her start school later.”

He pauses here again, taking a deep breath. “She picked it up, of course. You’ve met her, but you’d never be able to tell she struggled to speak when she was younger. She’s even more social now that she’s in college; god, the kid’s partying every weekend and still pulling off that 4.0.”

Mingyu knows what the jab here is. It’s the same jab it’s always been because Jeonghan is nothing but a perfectionist when it comes to himself, and Mingyu watches his voice drop to a mumble every time he mentions this.

“You did well in college too, you know,” Mingyu offers resolutely. “There was a lot that happened when you were in undergrad, and you handled it well.”

Jeonghan gives him a look. Mingyu knows these words are unwelcome, that words have meant little to the boy who studies how the brain sees them, but he hopes that the repetition will one day lead the meaning of his words to him anyway.

“It’s not about me.”

Oh, but it is, isn’t it?

“She’s smart—and I’m not saying anything about me, that’s not what it is—and she’s kind of brilliant. Being an older sibling is hard because we’re supposed to be able to have advice to pass on, but when it came to her, I never had anything to offer. She’s been popular since high school and a genius since he was younger. All I had to offer was that I did well in my first year neuroscience and linguistics classes.”

Night seeps through the blue, soaking up the last dredges of the liminal hour before dark. The streetlights are all on, painting a halo of amber on the pavement below each one. The park is silent and further back. The skyline sparkles below them, another sign that they’ve been walking for a lot longer than Mingyu had intended to be out, especially considering his roommate might have just accidentally proposed to his best friend back in his apartment.

Still, he never gets the chance to listen to Jeonghan like this, mostly because he doesn’t like to talk about himself.

“You liked the neuroscience though, didn’t you?”

Jeonghan nods, smiling briefly. “Yeah, loved it. Still do.”

That’s not the full story.

“Linguistics?”

“…”

“Oh.”

“It’s not like I hated it.” He sits down on the bench, swinging a leg up to tuck against his chest, resting his cheek on it as he faces Mingyu. “It was just… boring. And we didn’t talk about languages or how babies learn them or even how polyglots learn so many languages. And I think I chose the wrong career.”

The last sentence is mumbled quieter than the rest, words almost swallowed as he tries to keep that back. Mingyu hears regardless.

On cue, his phone rings.

Jeonghan pulls it out slowly, setting it on the bench between them before pressing answer.

“Hi, Sooyoung-ah.”

Mingyu stares at Jeonghan, watching as he breathes deeply and exhales achingly slowly. HE leans back against the door, closing his eyes and tilting his head back until it covers the peephole.

“So, that’s Sooyoung.”

It’s raining today, starting off autumn with gray skies and a wistful longing for the warmth of summer.

At least, Mingyu yearns. He’s not sure Jeonghan’s ever stepped into the light willingly.

Still, the rain turns the skies green, lush and vibrant and full of life.

Jeonghan tilts his head, a slight, sardonic smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

“That’s Sooyoung.”

Almost full, the sky trembles once more before unleashing another wave of tears.

Ah, so the universe is sad today, isn’t it?

“I honestly thought she would’ve made a better impression on you,” Jeonghan remarks offhandedly, pushing off the door and checking the lock before falling back on the sofa, throw pillows patterned with water lilies and the throw blanket pushed back to the other end. “She’s normally not… like that, really. I mean, she is with me, but not with other people.”

“I didn’t technically meet her yet,” Mingyu points out, sitting down next to him.

“Sorry.”

“What for?”

“I used to think, that if my friends met him, they’d wonder what the point of me was,” s\he says. “Because, you know, she’s just all that, right? It was simpler back then, but I don’t know.”

Mingyu tugs on a strand of hair that’s fallen out of his ponytail. Minghao stirs in the room next door, speaking to Seungcheol in hushed tones.

How many people have walked out on Jeonghan?

He’s closer to his parents despite the separation, and he used to be closer to his sister, but he never talks about anyone anymore. Mingyu doesn’t know much about his childhood, and he’s assumed that it’s by choice, considering that Jeonghan has nothing fond to say about high school.

How many people have made him feel out of place in his own skin, in his own mind?

“She’s her and you’re you,” Mingyu says finally, crawling off the sofa and standing in front of Jeonghan, knees pressed against each other’s. “Seriously, hyung, almost your friends are extroverts. Or they’re loud. I’m not an introvert either, and honestly, Minghao might be the closest to being an introvert. Does that feel weird to you?”

Jeonghan huffs. “That’s—you’re as eloquent as ever.”

“You’re the linguist between the two of us.”

“Neurolinguist.”

“Point still stands.”

Jeonghan sighs, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “No. Doesn’t feel weird.”

“I know she’s your sister and that makes things different, but you do not have to be a genius party animal.”

Jeonghan snorts, leaning back with his palms flat against the sofa. “I know that.”

“You can be just your lovely genius self and that’s fine too, really.”

“I’m not—”

“That’s not up for debate, hyung.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “She’s the reason I even did all of this.”

He speaks so quietly that the universe wails, louder and louder, despite the cocoon of the night.

And yet, the world is still green around them.

“She doesn’t have to keep on being the reason.”

Mingyu notices this more when he looks back on their time with Seungkwan and Chan, but Jeonghan really doesn’t talk much. His memories of their time together are filled with Jeonghan’s bright smiles as he listened to Chan’s enchanting stories, at the way he hides behind Mingyu whenever they meet someone new, at the way he smiles at their friends and tucks himself away in their words.

He’s good at it. Listening.

Talking, I suppose, would be harder.

Well, whenever he’s ready, the world is listening. Mingyu is listening.

“Yeah?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Cute little kid who would cling to my legs and make me drag her through the apartment. How could she not?”

Mingyu thinks there are many people who, in Jeonghan’s position, might have chosen a different career altogether. He knows better than anyone else that undergrad took a toll on him, even if that was when they first met.

“What would you have done otherwise?”

Jeonghan blinks twice, tilting his head. “Probably the same thing?”

“You would still choose neurolingusitics?”

“Just the neuroscience or psychology part of it, maybe,” he offers, tucking his hair behind his ear. “If I got into any other university, maybe astronomy. Or film.”

Jeonghan, behind a camera, painting the colors of a story for others to see unfold before them. Jeonghan, under the red lights of the dark room, short hair half tied up in a haphazard mess and the sun far below the horizon outside. Jeonghan, squinting through a telescope and staying up late scrawling down calculations and measurements.

“I can see that.”

Jeonghan hums, leaning back until his head rests against the back of the sofa, tilted to look at the ceiling. He sighs again, turning slightly.

Mingyu tugs him up wordlessly, halfway to pulling Jeonghan to his room when he stops.

“Guess we’ll be planning a wedding soon,” is all Jeonghan says when Mingyu looks at him. “I’ll head out, actually. I have an early meeting tomorrow and it’s closer to my apartment.”

“Your air conditioning’s still broken,” Mingyu reminds him. It’s not as hot for the rest of the week, not the oppressive heat that’s chased them into early September too.

Jeonghan shrugs, pulling away from Mingyu and tucking his hands into his pockets. “I’ll keep the windows open.”

Mingyu frowns, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms as he looks up at him. “That’s not safe.”

“I’m not on the first floor,” Jeonghan points out. “It’s fine, really.”

Mingyu presses his lips together, following him to the door.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, leaning in the doorway and watching Jeonghan walk over to the stairs.

“Yeah, for sure,” Jeonghan mutters, shaking his head. “Shua said he’s crashing in your room, by the way.”

“Is that why—?”

He crinkles his nose, leaning up on his toes and back down again. He drags his feet the way he drags his words when he finally speaks. “Nah.”

Mingyu hesitates. “Stay safe and text me when you get home.”

Jeonghan nods shortly, mimicking a casual two fingers salute and clicking his tongue before he takes the stairs two at a time, swinging his keys around his pointer finger. Mingyu watches him round the corner and waits until he sees a familiar blue bike take off through the parking lot.

“Maybe he finds it weird that your ex is stealing your underwear and rolling around in your bed.”

“I find that weird,” Mingyu complains, rolling his eyes and pushing at Joshua’s shoulder. “Why are you doing that?”

Joshua snorts. “Soonyoung knocked three different drinks in my lap. I used your shampoo.”

“No, why my underwear?”

“That’s how I sleep.”

Mingyu knows that. Still, he blinks twice and repeats it, answering his own question. “That’s how you sleep.”

Joshua sits up, taking the sheets with him. They pool around his feet, crumpled around his waist where he’s sitting on them. Mingyu’s t-shirt is way too big for him—it falls over both his shoulders and dips down a little too far in the front too.

Actually, it might be Seungcheol’s now that he’s looking at it.

“Please tell me you’re not that oblivious.”

He rolls onto his back, glancing up at Joshua. “Go pick a different t-shirt and stop making this more suggestive than it actually is.”

Joshua pouts, but does mostly as he's told, tossing Mingyu’s—Seungcheol’s—t-shirt back in Mingyu’s closet and grinning when Mingyu winces at how wrinkles it already looks. If anything, it was likely meant for Minghao, bought in the wrong size, and then tossed in Mingyu’s room as a joke.

He blinks a little quicker at that, still vaguely tipsy despite their walk and the fresh air.

How much of who you are is a fragment if someone else?

Joshua flops back on the bed, waiting.

“We could make out,” Mingyu offers, holding up his hand when Joshua opens his mouth to protest. “It wouldn’t change things between me and Jeonghan. It’s not… it’s not like what we were.”

Joshua tilts his head, wavy copper hair tumbling down his face. Mingyu tugs on a caramel curl. his roots have grown out just barely, evident only at this angle. “You’re not in love with him?”

“I love him,” Mingyu agrees. “I always have, I think. But it’s not the same.”

“Maybe,” Joshua agrees, dragging the vowels out slowly. “Maybe it’s not your last romance. But maybe he’s feeling a little out of place right now, hmm?”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to sit up, fixing his shirt as he goes.

“You’ve talked about this before,” he realizes.

“We are friends,” Joshua points out, pulling his knees to his chest and linking his arms around them, his right wrist caught in his left hand. “We were also in the same year, so we did see each other pretty often, you know. We were also both madly in love with you, so. Plenty in common.”

Mingyu shoves him again, waiting until Joshua laughs to exhale a sigh of relief. “You weren’t madly in love with me.”

Joshua raises an eyebrow, running a hand through his hair. “Oh? But he was?”

“He wasn’t either,” Mingyu mutters, the words stilted. “That’s not—were you?”

Joshua twirls a curl around his finger. It holds its shape when he lets go, damaged beyond repair from the bleach, unwinding only slightly into a looser echo of the previous coil. “Might have been. You were the prettiest boy I’d ever seen—still might be, you know? It’s a tough call when you and Jeonghan stand there looking like a power couple. And our trip was fun, yeah? Really hot. A super memorable twenty-first birthday.”

He hesitates, avoiding Mingyu’s eyes.

“But?”

He sighs. “We have really, really, really great chemistry, you know? Physical chemistry. But we sucked at actually talking to each and figuring things out when we were dating. Only managed to figure that stuff out when we pushed the other thing to the side and tried being friends that told each other things. And it stayed that way after, right? You’re my best friend, Mingyu-yah. I don’t want to lose that just for fun.”

It's a non-answer at best, but it’s not an admission of unrequited feelings.

Something must show on his face because the next thing he knows, Joshua is leaning forward, sprawled over his legs as he bursts out laughing.

“What?”

Mingyu knows he’s pouting, knows Joshua brings out his most childish and petty side a little too easily sometimes.

You’re my best friend.

“I’m not in love with you, stupid,” Joshua gets out between his giggles, adjusting so he can dig his chin into Mingyu’s stomach instead. “I don’t think I’m capable of that. And I think you are, but I think you should also talk to Jeonghan about this.”

“You say yes to every donation at every store, even when you’re behind on rent. You’re incredibly loveable, Shua hyung.”

Joshua only laughs harder. “You’re actually precious, no wonder Jeonghan’s having such a hard time. I’m loveable, sure; I’m not having a crisis over my self worth again, promise. I just don’t think I’m very romantically inclined.”

Jeonghan’s not either, if Mingyu thinks about it. But…

If I ever did want to kiss someone… it would be you.

They’re really not like he and Joshua were.

“I can be,” Mingyu offers. “I think. Do we really need a label for it?”

Is it a copout to say I didn’t want any only because I could never find any that fit?

Joshua shrugs, rolling off Mingyu onto his side. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers snag on the tangles, what with all his rolling around. With the rising moonlight over those waves, he looks a little like art.

Pretty, but so removed from Mingyu’s reality.

Mingyu throws his leg over Joshua’s hip and leans over to help him detangle his hair.

He’s already got his artist, doesn’t he? Painting their colors in the dark.

“I wasn’t in love with you either,” he finally says, propping himself up on a single elbow and pulling the thin blanket over their legs.

Joshua sighs, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to Mingyu’s shoulder. “We’re going to be okay, right?”

“You’re my best friend too.”

The tension bleeds out of him, sagging against Mingyu instead. “I missed you. Do you think Jeonghan would be down for a short road trip over winter break?”

Mingyu giggles, rolling on his side. Face to face on their own pillows, legs barely grazing each other under the blanket, it’s a little like the sleepovers he had as a kid with his classmates. Boys whose names he can hardly remember today all sprawled out in the living room with their pillows and blankets thrown over each other’s feet, giggling until early into the morning, just past sunrise.

“I think we might be planning a wedding, actually.”

His computer screen dims as he scrambles to swipe a hand across the trackpad to remind it to not turn off. His eyes burn, itchy and dry from the hours spent staring at the screen.

“Yah, Choi Seungcheol! You can’t just run off with Minghao on your honeymoon while we plan your wedding!”

Mingyu groans when Seungcheol’s only response is laughter. He glances back at his screen and sighs—it’s not like he can really complain about having to plan the wedding when he’s not even looking at that at the moment.

“Minghao and I already found a place, though?”

“The rent on that place is way too expensive for the quality of living,” Mingyu points out sourly. “There’s no way you both want to spend the money for your honeymoon on an apartment that doesn’t even look like it has running water.”

“I was talking about the venue.”

Mingyu groans again, sneaking a glance at his screen and letting his laptop lock itself in favor of pressing his forehead to the coffee table. Of course Seungcheol was talking about the venue. As often as he and Minghao talk about moving in together, they both work in different areas and there aren’t any other apartments in the same building or neighboring buildings that would work for them.

As much as Mingyu bickers with his roommate, he appreciates that Seungcheol isn’t bailing on his and escaping their inevitable medical student debt.

Well, technically, he will be. And Mingyu too, in a way, if everything goes right.

“You’ve been looking at apartments a lot lately,” Seungcheol points out, way too close to have not seen the last website open on his laptop before the screen went dark. “What’s up with that?”

Mingyu lifts his head from the table enough to set it back down facing sideways, his cheek pressed against the cool glass. “I can’t live with a married man.”

“I haven't even proposed yet,” he points out, though he’s blushing. Mingyu snorts, shoving down the instinct to either punch Minghao for making Seungcheol so sweet on him or burst into tears at seeing his roommate grow up like this.

“You basically did that drunk,” Mingyu points out unhelpfully, dodging the arm Seungcheol swings his way.

“No, you’re deflecting,” Seungcheol complains. “You’ve been spending too much time with Jeonghannie. Spill. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,”

“You’re the one who told me to get out,” Mingyu grumbles, rolling his eyes when Seungcheol gives him a look. “Jeonghan hyung’s aircon’s been broken since the start of summer and he hasn’t been looking, I’m sure.”

Considering Jeonghan refuses to let him come over, he’s pretty sure that he hasn’t even thought of moving out.

“Really? He never said anything about that.”

“He’ so stupid,” Mingyu complains. “Saving on rent, my foot. He’s lucky he isn’t in the hospital with heatstroke.”

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully, sitting up and picking up their glasses. He winces at the sticky dried wine on the side of his glass, from his mishap in pouring it in the first place. “Myungho’s lease is up by the end of December, if he wants to take over that?”

“You both don’t have a place yet, though?”

Seungcheol’s response is drowned out by the sounds of the kitchen sink and running water sloshing around in his glass. Mingyu slinks back onto the sofa, tucking his knees into his chest.

“What?”

His head peeks around the corner. “He could move in with me?”

The unspoken ‘if you don’t mind,’ hangs in the air.

The thing is, Mingyu doesn’t mind. He and Minghao were friends before Seungcheol and Minghao even met each other, and even after, it’s not like he feels all that left out even after they’ve started dating.

But it’s one thing to crash their movie nights and cry over sad movies after rough days in the clinic and another to live with a newly married couple. The last time Minghao and Seungcheol lived together was in college, and they did get along then, but obviously, it’s been a few years.

I just don’t think I’m very romantically inclined.

He might not be either. There’s a reason that things didn’t work out with Joshua and it’s obviously not just Joshua’s fault.

“I don’t mind…”

“Kinda sounds like you do.”

Mingyu shakes his head, running a hand through his hair and leaning forward to unlock his laptop again. “It’s not that I mind. It’s that you’re getting married.”

“And he’s a new tattoo artist and choreographer and I’m a med student. It makes sense to save some money that way.”

Mingyu snorts, pulling up the next episode of the anime Jeonghan hooked them both onto. “Minghao’s loaded—he could probably buy you each a penthouse.”

“We’re not using that money,” Seungcheol mumbles, flopping down next to him and hugging one of their throw pillows tightly. “His parents offered too, but he wanted it to be fair and wanted us to be able to make it on our own. It’s a retirement fund, really.”

Mingyu hides a smile. He can still clearly remember Minghao coming up to him just a week after he and Seungcheol started dating, demanding to know how much medical school would put them both in debt before boldly declaring that he could easily support Seungcheol through that, if that was what his boyfriend wanted as well. Seungcheol had refused when he found out, claiming that he wanted to make it on his own, and that he was dating Minghao for everything but his money.

Some things never change, huh?

Light streams through the window, catching on the baseboards and the mahogany hardwood flooring of the last step. Mingyu steps through it, following the sound of clicking heels up to the bedrooms.

“There are two bedrooms upstairs—”

The first room is open, with faded gray paint on the walls and a walk-in closet with mirrors for doors. The staging company has set up a bed with a large, short headboard in the center of the room, with the headboard ending just where the window begins. Curtains drape over the window itself, teasing the edges of the headboard.

“—furniture does not come with the house, of course, but I can definitely have Minghao reach out to you with our suppliers if there’s anything you like so we can get that shipped out to you as well—”

A matching light gray rug rolls out from under the bed, nearly blending in with the color of the carpet. It looks fluffier in the mirror than when Mingyu steps on it to inspect the window, shoe coverings and all, but when the light hits it at just the right angle, it looks a little like it could be lilac.

A faded lilac, one blooming with a little more permanence, maybe.

“—also no HOA fees, which is important to keep in mind if you plan on repainting the exterior—”

The second bedroom is bigger, with an attached bathroom. It’s a little much for him, admittedly, with the tall glass windows in the bathroom and along the corner of the bedroom itself, where the bed is pushed up against the wall, though it would probably feel like sleeping in the sky on particularly clear nights. The closet is about the same size as the first room, with an opening instead of mirrored doors.

“—previously remodeled with an all-electric range in accord with recent regulations, so you’ll be saving on your bills as well—”

Downstairs, the kitchen is the perfect size for six people fit comfortably, or even more if they were close enough. The dining room is equally cozy, set with the bay window as a bench.

Mingyu presses a smile to his hands—Jeonghan’s always been a fan of odd shapes like that. Minghao always complains about them being a waste of space while Seungcheol argues the opposite just for the fun of it.

“—so, what did you think?”

Mingyu doesn’t personally think of it either way—it just depends on how they use the space and how it all ties together in the end. It feels a little more adult-like to think this way, and he wonders if this is why his friends remind him of his age so often, even if they’re all mostly older than him.

“It’s a lovely place,” Mingyu agrees demurely, glancing around the living room and adjusting his bag on his shoulder. I can call you back regarding next steps, if that’s possible?”

He feels more adult-like, talking to a real estate agent about a house. He’s been a student for far too long and his time in medical school hasn’t helped him relate to others his age, but this might be a step in that direction.

The agent smiles, sharp and shrewd. Mingyu doesn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, but she’s the best at her job—there’s a reason Minghao was friends with her, after all.

“I’ll be in touch.”

Mingyu knows Jeonghan is pretty.

The moon orbits at a 5.1° tilt on its ecliptic plane. Humanity has explored more of the universe than it has of its own seas.

Despite knowing these facts, it still slaps him in the face to see Jeonghan shuffling around in a suit with an umbrella in his hand.

“Hey.”

Mingyu blinks up at him. When did it start raining?

“Seungcheol called me,” he says, sliding his blazer off and draping it over Mingyu’s head. “How are you holding up?”

Mingyu blinks again. It’s darker than he remembers it being when he stepped out to sit in the park. “Me?”

Jeonghan squats down to his level, holding the umbrella over both of them. Mingyu winces when the edges of his pants skirt along the wet asphalt. He nods.

“I’m fine,” Mingyu mumbles. “Don’t listen to everything Seungcheol tells you. Did you know he’s apartment hunting?”

Jeonghan nods, tugging Mingyu up slowly. “I did, actually. Shua mentioned it yesterday.”

“You met Shua?” his legs ache as he straightens, stiff from crouching on the sidewalk. The rain is falling harder than it was when he had stopped, and he can’t see through the gray anymore.

Actually, he’s not entirely sure where he is.

“You had later rotations yesterday, didn’t you? He needed a date for his cousin’s cousin’s engagement.” The end of his sentence lilts upwards, as if there’s more he wants to say but isn’t saying.

“And?”

Jeonghan snorts, sighing. “And he wanted to apologize for sleeping with you and stealing your underwear.”

“Why isn’t he apologizing to me then,” Mingyu grouses, curling himself into an uncomfortable little ball.

Jeonghan shrugs. “You tell me. Why is he apologizing to me?”

Mingyu stays silent, watching the little rivulets of rainwater puddle together by the drains. In the dark, they look almost red, even if all the street lights around them glow amber.

He’s always hated orange.

“Jeonghan hyung,” Mingyu starts slowly.

“Mhmm?”

He can’t see the moon nor the stars under this storm. He hasn’t looked up since his shift at the hospital ended, doesn’t remember if he changed out of his scrubs or not. His pager might even be dead at this point, batteries saturated with rain water. Not that anyone’s looking for him anyway, he’s been given the next few days off.

Like he could sleep off the red he washed off his hands. Things like that don’t go away.

Things like that could never just be a memory.

“I don’t think I want to be a doctor anymore,” he whispers, before shaking his head immediately.

“Then you don’t have to be,” Jeonghan says simply, leaning over and resting his head on Mingyu’s shoulder. Mingyu makes a faint noise of protest—his clothes are soaking wet and Jeonghan’s hair looks nice—but he’s too warm for Mingyu to shake off. “But you do have to finish what you started, Mingyu-yah. You’re almost done with it now.”

“I know,” he says in a small voice. His hesitation is momentary—he does still want to do this. But the red that stains his hands stains his eyes and he can’t close them without seeing it spill out again.

“You don’t have to be a surgeon,” Jeonghan reminds him. “I know Seungcheol is dead set on cardiothoracic surgery and I’d rather do neurosurgery than any other specialty, but you wanted to be a pediatric psychiatrist, right? Go become one. The world needs you.”

Does it? Does he?

“Do you?” Mingyu asks, before he can talk himself out of it.

Jeonghan blinks owlishly. “I always do. But the world needs Dr. Kim Mingyu, pediatric psychiatrist.”

Mingyu really does start to cry in earnest then, sobbing through the recollection of the patient he helped with in the operating room and how they passed away despite the attending’s best efforts.

He knows the nature of the career he pursues. But it rarely hits him so hard as when he’s staring death in the face like that.

How lilac it all is and how fleeting it all will be.

Jeonghan pulls him closer, makes him stand up so they aren’t mere inches from sitting in the gutter. As Mingyu inhales shakily, trying his best to regulate his sobbing, Jeonghan begins to speak.

“Sooyoung called me back,” he murmurs, holding Mingyu tighter when his knees buckle. “It’s going to be okay, Mingyu-yah.”

The rain breaks for a moment to let the moonlight stream in. Maybe it will be.

Seungcheol welcomes them both in with thick towels and hot tea. His thick brows are furrowed, worry radiating off him in waves. Mingyu pulls him into a tight hug, leaning back only to drag Jeonghan in it.

“There’s mail for you, by the way, Mingyu-yah,” he calls out when Mingyu is drying his hair. Jeonghan is still in the shower. “I figured you didn’t want him to see it yet.”

“How did you—”

“Thank you,” Seungcheol murmurs. “I’m going to miss you, you know?”

Mingyu laughs thickly, suddenly choking up. “Why would you say it like that—it’s just down the street—”

He gives up and pulls Seungcheol back into another hug, lifting him off his feet with the momentum. Jeonghan gets the same treatment when he offers to spend the weekend, with no further prompting from Mingyu regarding the state of his apartment.

On Saturday, the rain clears up enough for Mingyu to drag Jeonghan up to the rooftop pool for a swim. Jeonghan keeps pushing it off, but the sun is low in the sky when he finally agrees, borrowing a pair of Minghao’s swim trunks and joining Mingyu in the water.

He doesn’t know where the skies end or if the horizon that wavers in front of them is real, but maybe he doesn’t mind anymore.

Jeonghan isn’t looking.

No, his eyes are only for Mingyu, sparkling stars that will draw him in over and over and over again, and Mingyu will capitulate to the universe one last time.

If there’s anything he's learned from this summer, full of blue, it’s that forever isn’t inevitable. It isn’t the favorable endgame.

Fleeting. A shimmering iridescent lavender lilac color that tastes like what you would hope cotton candy to.

It melts so fast, but perhaps it’s an easier color to chase. Easier to find - from the lilac sunsets and vivid sands to the fading flowers and the tea in the cup across from him.

“Mingyu-yah.”

“Hmm?”

Jeonghan grins. “Did you know Minghao started packing?”

“That’s news to me,” Mingyu lies. “I guess they finally found a place.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Seungcheol wasn’t even looking, so I’m not quite sure it’s that.”

Mingyu freezes, lips parted around a different word than the one he finally says. “What?”

“Come on, Kim Mingyu, did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

Mingyu frowns, a broken record. “What?”

“It’s a little suspicious to have to approved a log in to a house hunting website,” Jeonghan drawls. “Especially one where I’d only ever saved one house in. One house that just recently went off the market. Right as my best friend’s fiance started packing his things.”

“They’re moving in together,” Mingyu concludes. “Wait, what does that have to do with me?”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Jeonghan laughs anyway. “You’re the only one who bought the house.”

“How—what?”

“You can’t keep deflecting,” Jeonghan complains. “When were you going to ask me?”

“Ask you—” Mingyu sputters, rolling onto his side on the pool float, facing Jeonghan who’s treading water carefully near the wall, phone in hand. “Yoon Jeonghan, you should come with a warning.”

Jeonghan puts his phone down on the pool deck, the music filtering out the Seoul night, tilting his head to the side. “Am I that unpredictable?”

Mingyu laughs, curling inwards slightly, his legs overlapping Kaira’s as his float draws closer. “Oh, absolutely. But if you warned me every time you were going to be unpredictable, you’d lose that little bit of your charm, right?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s particularly charming,” Jeonghan mumbles in a small voice, pushing his wet hair from his face, hands dry.

He’s never looked better.

He never looks bad either, to be fair, but Mingyu is long past denying that he's capable of seeing Jeonghan as anything but an ideal. Of a kind of love, of sorts, if not the romantic kind. The only love he’ll ever need.

“It is,” Mingyu denies easily. “But it’s not that, it’s just… It hurts. To love you, you know?”

Jeonghan swallows thickly. “You don’t have to.”

Mingyu scoffs, not unkindly. He nearly tips off the float in his rush to sit up but he doesn’t care because this. This.

This is exactly what he means.

“That’s the thing,” he says, the float pushing him closer to Jeonghan as the wind picks up a little, the promise of summer rain in the air.

“It’s impossible not to.”

Jeonghan looks away. “I’m sorry.”

Mingyu shakes his head, kicking himself off the float, nearly falling face first into the water if it wasn’t for Jeonghan’s arms catching his ribcage.

Ever so gently, that’s how he's always handled his heart, after all, isn’t it?

“You shouldn’t be!” He’s too close to Jeonghan to think clearly now, clinging to his arms to keep them afloat. Like he always has, maybe.

Jeonghan bites his lip when Mingyu lifts a hand from his biceps to turn his head back to face him, feather light fingers against his jaw.

“It’s not worth the pain,” he whispers.

“You are.”

Jeonghan freezes, eyes wide and a little shimmery too. A little blurry, like the lines on the surface of the pool they float in.

“You always will be.”

Starry eyed, and he's got a smile that makes the universe want to stay a while.

So it made a home in his heart, carving out his favorite constellations to match his very being of art. Of love.

“It hurts,” Mingyu starts slowly, fingers holding him firmly in place, but not painfully so. He’s been in enough pain for a lifetime. “To see you deny yourself this. You really don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?” Jeonghan turns a little, lips pressing lilac to his finger tips, and Mingyu almost smiles fondly at how unaware he is of it all.

“That the world is in love with you. That the universe would cry every time you ducked out of sight. That the night was made to love you. That the stars would never want to fall from your eyes.”

His eyes widen, lips parting. A soundless scream, maybe. Mingyu hopes the universe seals his pain somewhere out of sight. “I don’t— That’s not—”

Mingyu sighs, delicate as he pulls him closer, hands coming up to hold his universe, thumbs brushing the water from under his eyes.

The sunset paints him in shades of blue, of a periwinkle heart and indigo lips. Of scarlet hair and an emerald smile. He’s free and safe and lost beginnings and found middles all at once.

His story isn’t over yet.

“Yoon Jeonghan, you are worthy of love. You deserve to accept it. You deserve to stop denying yourself of who you are,” Mingyu murmurs.

Jeonghan finally, finally, meeting his eyes.

“Who am I?” He mouths, voice lost to the sea around them.

Mingyu smiles, amber fond and honey in his smile. “Love, aren’t you?”

When the sunset drizzle dips into twilight rain, Jeonghan throws his head back laughs. He leans forward once to press his lips to Mingyu’s cheek with a loud smacking sound before throwing his arms around his neck and pulling him close.

Mingyu falters and treads harder to keep them both afloat, closing his eyes and letting Jeonghan’s familiar staccato laughter chase away the heat.

The universe cries for him, taking his burdens and dissolving them into silver tears, ripples casting across the surface of the water.

The sunset blazes behind them, Jeonghan’s music filling in the spaces between with colors Mingyu dreams of seeing again someday.

And it’s easy, it’s so easy, to let themselves fall back into the water, laughing as the sky looks down on them with growing fondness as the night falls.

Learn to fall in love with life. Wholly. And perhaps you’ll love the people that make up the parts of it, but your heart is not for them. And you are one of the people in that life too. Love yourself. The parts of you that you hide, the parts that make you want to cry when it’s late at night and no one but the moon is in sight, the parts of you that make you blush, pink against the blue. Love them all. 

Don’t wait for love to find you - it’s already within you and all around you. Perhaps you are love.

Your heart is for you, and it was made to keep beating to the soundtrack of your life. Want to know a secret? 

Love is whatever you make it. I’ve spent too long looking for it, wondering if it’s something to chase, or something to follow, something to lead somewhere. But really, if you simply live - not exist, you have to to truly believe and let go and live - then, well, it follows.

Ah, but I’ve been wrong before, haven’t I? 

Perhaps you’ll just have to love and see. I know you will.

("It's a yes, by the way," Jeonghan murmurs, running a hand through Mingyu's wet hair. He initially complained when Mingyu flopped on top of him, head resting on his stomach, but he's seemingly embraced it now, melting under Mingyu's weight.

Mingyu sputters, pushing his face into Jeonghan's side. Jeonghan throws his head back and laughs, fingers coming up to poke at Mingyu's red ears.

"It could never be anything else, Mingyu-yah.")