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Junhui stands in front of the terminal, hands clenched tight at his sides.
It should be easier than breathing to just get through the rest of security and board his flight back home to China.
Emphasis on it should be.
But Junhui only stares at all the people passing by him with a blank look on his cold face. He's pretty sure a few people have stumbled into him, apologizing profusely, but he hasn't noticed them one bit.
All Junhui can even think about is how he broke the news to Minghao.
Junhui stares at his cell phone, hoping with all hope that it'll ring again with his parents on the other end of the line telling him it was just one, big joke.
But his phone doesn't ring.
The front door opens and Minghao walks into their apartment, grocery bags in hand. He pauses as the door shuts behind him, shocked by the statue that is now Junhui.
"Jun, you good?" Minghao asks, eyes wide as he stares at the elder.
Junhui shivers at the Mandarin, the language not feeling as comforting as it should anymore. But he doesn't answer, just keeps staring at his cellphone.
Minghao ventures further into their apartment, dropping the grocery bags on the kitchen counter before making his way over towards the elder. "Junhui. Are you okay? Do you need something?"
Junhui jumps when Minghao's hand grabs his elbow, but the younger doesn't let that stop him and turns Junhui around so he can face him. Minghao's hair is windswept and his long sleeve shirt looks very familiar.
It's with a sinking feeling that Junhui realizes it's his.
Minghao keeps peering up into his face, both hands on Junhui's shoulders now, but all Junhui can think about now is how good Minghao looks in his clothes.
"Gē, what's wrong?"
Junhui blinks his eyes furiously, surprised by the tears that are trying to spring into his eyes. "Is that my shirt?"
Minghao's stunned expression is enough to have Junhui start moving again, albeit a little robotically, but still moving as he takes a step back. Minghao glances down at his front then looks back up at Junhui with a frown marring his face. Junhui feels the itch to kiss the frown away and pet Minghao's hair again, but he fights it back down and focuses on the here and now, his stomach rolling.
"I guess? Does that bother you? I'll wash it before I return it," Minghao says carefully, eyes roaming over every inch of Junhui's face in an attempt to figure out what may be wrong.
Junhui stiffly shakes his head, palms held out toward Minghao. "No. You can keep it if you want."
Minghao stares at him for a long time. Long enough that Junhui starts to fidget. Then Minghao threads their fingers together and Junhui's heart stops.
His breath rattles in his lungs as his feelings for Minghao swell up within his chest. It's been a battle keeping his feelings secret, but he knows it's for the best. Minghao wouldn't want to date him because he thinks of Junhui as something like a mentor. Junhui was the one who helped him learn Korean in a strange and foreign country when he'd first arrived in South Korea. Junhui had been the one to help Minghao get enrolled in the proper classes for his major and paid the deposit on the apartment they share now. Junhui was also the one who'd steamed Minghao's clothes the night before his first work interview and had also been the one to treat them to a celebratory dinner when Minghao got the job.
All in all, Junhui knows it'd be a little wrong for him to date Minghao. Most of the time, it feels like Junhui has been raising him on his back for all these years, but that hasn't stopped his feelings. It had seemed to only make his feelings grow stronger instead.
Because it'd be wrong for Junhui to take Minghao's hand as equals instead of leading him forward in the right direction like he's been doing all these years.
Right?
Here they stand now, with Junhui's heart in his throat and Minghao's hands in his, something strange and awkward in the air above their heads.
"Okay," Minghao says after a little more time has passed. "Will you tell me what's wrong now?"
Junhui bites his lip and takes another step back, pulling his hands out of Minghao's. "Nothing is wrong. Why do you keep asking me that?"
"Because you're acting weird and you're never this stiff. At least, not around me, you're not," Minghao murmurs.
It takes a second for Junhui's mind to get out of the gutter with that one, but once it does, he's blinking again, flustered. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Minghao sighs and steps forward, frowning when Junhui takes an automatic step back. "Jun, really. Tell me what's wrong. When I came in, you were staring at the phone like your life depended on it. Now you won't let me touch you. Tell me what is wrong."
Junhui's breath stutters in his throat, his body feeling like a million tons and weightless at the same time. "My parents called."
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Minghao says, nodding his head as he waits for Junhui to continue.
Junhui takes in another breath, hands grasping for something to hold and when Minghao holds his palms out, Junhui takes them, interlacing their fingers once more. "They want me to go back home."
"To China?" Minghao asks, frown growing when Junhui nods in response. "Why?"
Junhui bites his lip again, suddenly unwilling to say. Minghao crowds into his space then, knocking the breath right out of Junhui's lungs as he closes in. It's a test of willpower when Minghao presses his face close enough for Junhui to just lean in and let their lips meet, but the elder resists, shutting his eyes instead to try and help him block out everything that is Minghao.
"Why do they want you to go back to China? I thought they were the ones who sent you here in the first place," Minghao reiterates, his grip tight on Junhui.
"They, uh," Junhui begins, opening his eyes as he’s compelled to tell the truth. "They want me to attend a wedding."
"Who's wedding?"
"...mine."
A deadly silence falls upon them then. Junhui barely even dares to breathe, too scared in the suddenly tense atmosphere.
Minghao's staring at him with an unreadable look on his face. "I wasn't aware you were seeing someone back home."
Junhui feels something in him break when Minghao steps away from him, pulling their hands apart again. "I'm not."
"And yet, you're getting married. Congrats," Minghao laughs, but Junhui knows Minghao's laugh and this isn't it. This laugh is strangled and tells Junhui upfront that Minghao doesn't mean what he's saying right now.
"I didn't choose to get married. Not with the girl they picked anyway," Junhui says defensively and he doesn't know why he's on the defense right now. All he knows is that Minghao's hurt by this news and Junhui doesn't want to guess the exact reason why. "They arranged it. I have to leave in a few days. The wedding is in a week."
"What about your life here? Do I have to look for a new roommate?" Minghao asks, his tone quiet, something strange about the way he's speaking at the moment.
Junhui shakes his head, doing his best not to let his heart hope. "No. After the wedding, I'll be back here. We have a lease on this place, remember? I'll still be paying my part of the rent next month so don't worry about that. They can fight me all they want, but my parents aren't going to make me leave you to fend for yourself."
Minghao smiles now, but it doesn't meet his eyes and Junhui's heart breaks in two. "You already have."
"Hao," Junhui begins to say. "Don't be like that."
Minghao shakes his head and steps further away from the elder. "When...If you come back from China, I won't be here."
The younger storms past him and into the hallway, disappearing into his room with a loud bang as he shuts his door. Junhui watches him go, not knowing what to say anymore.
And maybe, he shouldn't say anything at all.
Junhui really does not want to get married.
Not with somebody his parents picked out at least.
He wants to go back to the apartment, make hot chocolate and watch shitty b-rated horror movies with Minghao instead.
Junhui blinks, startling when a rush of noise floods into him, his body becoming ultra aware of his surroundings.
He's standing in front of a terminal, a ticket back home clenched in his hand with a heavy feeling weighing on his chest. He'd love to go back to China and sit down for dinner with his parents then catch up with some of his old friends if they're still around. But Junhui doesn't want to move there permanently.
He likes going to the cafe down the street and hanging out with his friends Soonyoung, Wonwoo, and Jihoon. Likes it, even more, when Minghao tags along bringing Seokmin and Mingyu with him. Junhui likes watching the back-and-forth banter Soonyoung holds with Seokmin, both of them perfectly made for the other, while he and Minghao share a scone between them and Wonwoo argues with Mingyu over something and Jihoon snorts at his phone. He likes being with his friends and he likes his job and he likes the apartment he calls home.
He loves coming home after a long day of work to find Minghao in the kitchen cooking something or on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on his lap as he watches a drama, waiting for Junhui. Junhui loves it when they visit Soonyoung's studio and dance their hearts out, even participating in a few of Soonyoung's classes before they collapse back at home on their living room floor, arguing over who gets to shower first. He loves being with Minghao. He loves being home.
Because in the years that Junhui's been living in Seoul, even he has to admit that China isn't home anymore. It's like every cliche has come to slap Junhui in the face, but even he can't deny it.
Junhui's home is Minghao.
Junhui turns on the spot and runs out of the airport, his breath burning in his lungs as he rushes back home.
When Junhui bursts through the door, Minghao is in a burrito blanket on top of the couch, watching another drama.
He sits up slowly when Junhui enters, eyes wide and glazed over as if he's in a trance. "Jun?"
Junhui drops his things and kicks off his shoes, forcing himself to move slowly when he shrugs out his coat and unwraps his scarf. "Hey, Hao. Feeling sick?"
Minghao blinks at him, confusion on his face. "Um, I guess?"
"Want me to make you soup?" Junhui asks, nodding and making his way towards the kitchen as if Minghao already answered him. "Just lay back down. I'll take care of you."
Junhui hums as he makes the soup, sweating as he chops up vegetables and waits for the water to start boiling. There's little noise coming from the living room, the sound of the tv the only thing keeping Junhui's humming company. He finishes the soup soon enough and ladles some into a bowl, taking care as he brings it to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table in front of Minghao.
Minghao sits up, his blanket unwrapping around him slowly like a cacoon opening up and Junhui feels breathless again as the younger takes his hand and pulls Junhui down onto the couch, keeping eye contact with him.
"Why are you back?" Minghao asks, his eyes wide again, a little red-rimmed.
Junhui takes a deep breath in, then out. "Well, you know that I love you, right?"
Minghao nods, his face slowly flushing pink. "Yes?"
But Junhui only shakes his head and holds onto Minghao's hand a little tighter. "No, Hao. I mean, you that I'm in love with you, right?"
If the situation were any different, Junhui would laugh at how big Minghao's eyes are right now, but he can only wait with a heavy breath as Minghao absorbs the new information. A glimmer shines in his eyes and Junhui feels all types of dread and hope in his chest when Minghao dips his head down and peers up through his wet eyelashes.
"You're in love with me?"
Junhui nods because he doesn't know what else to say.
"What about your parents? What about going home?" Minghao asks, looking down at their hands now.
Junhui knows it’s the most cliche answer he can think of, but it's true so he says it anyway. "Minghao, you are my home."
There's a tiny beat of silence between them after that and Junhui's almost too afraid to speak, but he needn't have worried since Minghao is the first one to break the silence anyway.
"You know, I think that's the one of the cheesiest, greasiest, and disgustingly adorable things you've said yet," Minghao murmurs, his mouth twisted into a smirk and before Junhui can truly begin to panic about ruining everything, Minghao is speaking again. "Nevertheless, I am happy to hear it."
"You are?" Junhui asks.
Minghao smiles now, his eyes glittering and Junhui opens his arms for him, laughing when Minghao throws himself unceremoniously into them. "I am. I'm in love with you too. Have been, for a long time."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Why didn't you say anything?" Minghao throws Junhui's words back at him with a snort.
Junhui laughs again, arms wrapped tight around the younger. "Touche."
Minghao nestles into him, graciously accepting the soup Junhui nudges towards him. Junhui watches him eat it, the back of his hand pressed to Minghao's forehead to check he doesn't have a fever. He doesn't and as far as Junhui knows, Minghao only has a sore throat and a slight cold so it's safe for him to kiss him.
And kiss him he does.
Their chests are pressed tightly together, sharing body heat as their lips move. Junhui's arms are around Minghao's waist, Minghao's fingers in his hair. The dynamic and movements are new, but the feelings behind it all are not. Junhui's been in love with Minghao for years and the only difference now is that he's finally letting his feelings reign free, letting the love flow out of him unchecked, relieved when Minghao responds with equal fervor.
There isn't any other place Junhui would rather be at than right here, in Minghao's arms, as they leisurely kiss on top of the couch while a drama plays in the background on their tv in their living room, in their home.
Home.
The word has never tasted sweeter than it does right now in this moment, laying heavy on Junhui's tongue.