Archive of Our Own

December 23, 2017. Saturday.

8:13 AM.

"Hey mom," Seokmin says softly, smiling when the slightly pixelated image of his mother waves from his laptop screen.

"Seokmin, it's been too long." Her voice is loud and clear over Skype, and Seokmin scrambles for a moment to find his headphones. Minghao, in the other room, is probably still asleep, and the walls here are thin. "How are you? How were your exams?"

“They were alright.” He hopes that it’s true, at least. “The results aren’t out yet.”

She nods, then leans closer to her screen. "Have you been sleeping enough? And eating well?" She frets. Seokmin can almost feel her tugging at his cheeks gently, reaching up to pat his hair, despite being over a full head shorter than him. The thought alone makes his lips curl up, even as a wave of sudden homesickness washes over him.

"I have mom, don't worry." Seokmin chuckles. "I'll have lots of time to rest and actually cook now."

She sighs softly. "I'm sorry you can't come back for Christmas."

Seokmin's eyes widen and he waves his hands in protest. "It's okay, mom. I get it." Money is tight this year, and Seokmin couldn't keep as many hours at work as he usually did, his course load too challenging this semester.

It's just. Christmas is his favorite holiday. Something about the cold air and hot food, the festive songs and carols, bright lights shining against the stark white snow, decorating a tiny tree with his sister and dressing their dog up as a little reindeer (at least, when she lets them), everyone setting aside their differences and worries and stress, and just spending the day off together — there's something about all of it that Seokmin is kind of in love with. And this is the first time he'll be spending Christmas without his family.

"I won't be alone or anything. Minghao is with me — Myungho. Mingyu left yesterday but he will be back in a week and a half." He smiles and hopes it's reassuring. "It'll be fine, I promise."

"Ah. You’re really close with Myungho, right?" It's a question, but it sounds more like a statement.

Seokmin's smile eases into something more natural. "Mm, we are." He and Minghao have a long list of movies they're planning to marathon over winter break. Yesterday, Minghao had indulged him in all of the older Spider-Man movies (though he grumbled about how Tobey Maguire didn't look anything like a high school student every ten minutes). This afternoon, they're going to start with Homecoming, then move on to some of Minghao's favorites. Seokmin licks his lips absently.

"Good." His mother says, and Seokmin isn't sure if it's just the quality of her webcam, but she has this look that's unreadable. "Holidays should always be spent with people you love."

Seokmin laughs, a little too loud, and a weird little lump settles in his throat. "Yeah, we've been making plans for the next few days, it should be fun." He manages to turn the conversation to her (how is everyone? How's work? Is Woojoo doing alright?) and jots down a few recipes to try out over break, until his mother stifles a yawn into her sleeve.

"It's getting late there, now, isn't it? You should sleep." Seokmin urges gently. 

His mother smiles, her voice soft in a way that reminds Seokmin of the times she would sing him and his sister songs before bed, when they were much younger. "Call more often, alright?"

Seokmin nods, waving a little. "Good night!"

"Enjoy your day," she says. The screen freezes out, then closes with a soft ping.

Seokmin shuts his laptop then rolls back into bed. The lump in his throat still there and nagging.

December 22, 2017. Friday.

12:47 PM.

When Seokmin wakes up, his head is pounding. The sun is shining villainously through a crack in the blinds, his mouth is dry, and his head is pounding, screaming for relief.

He covers his face with his hands, letting out a soft whine. Seokmin doesn’t usually drink this much, but the leftover stress from finals and allure of free alcohol apparently won him over.

He doesn’t completely remember how he got back to the apartment last night, just vague little memories put together like a poorly edited movie trailer: BamBam laughing while Woojin dropped into a split. Being squished between two bodies in the back of a Lyft. A warm, steady arm (Minghao’s) around his waist. Mariah Carey. A sudden cold breeze. Gentle hands (also Minghao’s) helping Seokmin lay down safely.

He peeks past his fingers and finds a bottle of water he doesn’t remember leaving beside his bed. He downs it like a man lost in the desert who has stumbled upon an oasis, then thanks the higher powers that even if his room is the size of a closet, he doesn’t share it and no one has to witness his desperation.

Seokmin isn’t sure how long he stays in bed, dizzying himself with half formed memories, until hunger conquers every other feeling and he drags himself out of his room.

Minghao is already there, reading something on his phone. He looks up and nods in greeting, lips tilted up in a small smile. "I just put some coffee on." He's in a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, and his hair is a little ruffled, but he somehow manages to look cool (Seokmin, on the other hand, is sure he looks like he was just hit by a truck).

"Thanks." Seokmin mumbles, and shuffles around the kitchen, checking to see if he had washed his favorite mug earlier (he didn’t).

“How’re you feeling?” Minghao asks as Seokmin pulls out three clean mugs.

“Could be better.” He makes Minghao and Mingyu’s coffees first, their go-to drink basically identical (almost overflowing black coffee, a dash of creamer, half a spoon of sugar), then his own (half coffee, half milk, and as much sugar as needed to make it taste good. Seungkwan looked downright offended the first time he saw the drink). He peeks out of the kitchen with a small pout. “Did I do anything embarrassing?”

“On a scale from one to ten, I’d say you were about Soonyoung Level.” Minghao chuckles when Seokmin groans. “Look on the bright side: you didn’t puke out the side of a Lyft like Mingyu.”

It’s way too early in the day to think about Mingyu’s vomit, so Seokmin leaves it at that. He’s bound to find out all the awful details eventually. “Is he awake yet?” He sips his coffee and closes his eyes in bliss.

“Bathroom.” Minghao tilts his head to the side, stretching, and grimaces. It morphs into a tiny smile when he sees Seokmin set a steaming cup on the table in front of him. “Oh. Thank you.”

Seokmin’s eyebrows furrow. Minghao had injured his back over the summer and had to take a break from his dance crew while he recovered. His treatment is almost over, but… “Are you okay? Did you strain yourself?”

Minghao blinks. “What? No — don’t worry. I just slept funny, that’s all.” He rubs at his neck.

“I’ll give you a massage,” Seokmin says, setting his drink down, shushing Minghao before he can protest. He stands behind Minghao. “I’m kinda good at it? Soonyoung never complained.”

“You really don’t have to,” Minghao mumbles, but he stays still — tenses up at first — when Seokmin’s hands settle on his shoulders.

He starts lightly, the stretched out neck of Minghao’s t-shirt falling away. Seokmin forgets, sometimes, how strong Minghao actually is, lean muscles evidence of it. He works his fingers against his warm skin, traveling up and down slowly, until Minghao lets out a soft sigh. “Ah — there.”

That’s how Mingyu finds them: Seokmin gently kneading the muscle, and Minghao leaning into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. Seokmin thinks Minghao looks a bit like all those sleepy cat videos Junhui loops him into watching during lecture.

“Oh. Good morning.” Mingyu’s grinning wide at them. Seokmin is relieved he at least looks as bad as Seokmin feels. “I was gonna ask if you guys wanted to order in? Unless you’re —” he waves his hand, vaguely, “— busy, or whatever.”

“I want an omlette,” Seokmin says, but he doesn’t miss the way Minghao tenses up again, just the slightest, under his hands.

Minghao nods slowly, in agreement. “That sounds good.” He doesn’t move, and neither does Seokmin, until Mingyu leaves to find his phone. Then, Minghao tilts his head back, the top of his head pressed against Seokmin’s belly, and flashes a grin. “Thanks, Seokmin.”

Seokmin beams back down at him. “Yeah, no problem.” It’s the least he could do for his friend, right?

December 23, 2017. Saturday.

2:23 PM.

"Did you see Mingyu freaking out in the group chat last night?" Seokmin glances down between the grocery list on Minghao's phone, then back at the shelves. He asked Minghao to find some recipes he'd like to try out for Christmas dinner, since the two of them would be spending it together.

"Honestly?" Minghao says, and picks up a small bag of flour. "I muted it after the first eighty messages he sent."

Seokmin snorts at that. Mingyu had texted them every thirty minutes during his four hour drive with Jeongguk, worried about meeting his boyfriend's family face to face for the first time (though maybe half of those messages were about how sexy Jungkook looks behind the wheel). And the messages only amplified after Mingyu reached Jungkook's house. The last thing Seokmin remembered before falling asleep was a flurry of emojis and something about Jeongguk's brother, even after his fifteenth reply of some variation of "don't worry they'll love you".

The texts had come in less frequently by the morning. Seokmin isn't sure if that's a good sign or not. "I wonder how he's doing..."

"He'll be fine. He's stupidly charming around parents. Somehow." Minghao and Mingyu have been friends for years, inseparable since their freshman year of highschool. It’s a little scary how similar they’ve become, finishing each other’s sentences and picking up random habits the other has.

Minghao's phone buzzes, and it's pure instinct when Seokmin looks down at the notification —  he's not usually a nosy asshole.

FROM: Jungkook Jeon
hes good now. my family loves him?? thanks for checking in

Minghao clears his throat, flicking the notification away, and Seokmin grins to himself. Minghao might declare he'd sell Mingyu to Satan for a cornchip once a month (sometimes even twice a month), but deep down —  he cares about him a lot. It's sweet.

Seokmin pushes the cart to the last aisle, and in attempt to not to let his smile grow any bigger, he looks over all the items they’ve thrown in. They'll have to stop by a few more stores to get all the things they need.

Minghao grabs some milk, then smirks and picks up another carton. “Eggnog?” He teases, and Seokmin almost whines. He thinks he’s had enough eggnog for a lifetime.

December 21, 2017. Thursday.

??:?? PM.

There are three things Seokmin knows about BamBam:

One. He’s one of Minghao’s friends.

Two. He throws the best parties walking distance from campus.

Three. He’s very convincing.

Although, it doesn’t take too much convincing this time around. Nearly everyone finished exams today, and Seokmin wasn’t planning on doing anything else besides finding a new show to watch on Netflix. Plus, he hasn’t gone out since syllabus week.

And it’s fun — Mingyu picks out clothes for him and styles his hair, so he’s sure he looks nice. Chris Bang, one of BamBam’s roommates, has strangely good remixes of holiday songs playing. And Seokmin knows at least half the people there.

The problem: the eggnog tastes far too good to actually have that much alcohol in it.

Seokmin loses count, but he’s had three shots and maybe more than five glasses of (supposedly strong) eggnog when an EDM remix of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer comes on.

He’s a decent dancer, nothing like the school’s contemporary dance crew SVT, but he can follow a rhythm, and he can’t help but move to the beat right now. A tiny part of him feels silly, dancing alone like this, but a much larger part of him doesn’t care, and he sways his hips.

His eyes land on Minghao, who’s comfortable on the sofa, red cup in one hand, and much to Seokmin’s surprise, he’s looking back at Seokmin. Staring, even, with his eyes hooded, and a flush on his cheeks, lips parted.

Everyone around them fades away for a moment, and it feels like it’s just the two of them in this hot, stuffy room and Seokmin is putting on a show. When Seokmin rolls his hips, Minghao bites down on his lower lip in response, and it makes Seokmin’s body flush, his breath hitch. He feels — appreciated. Seokmin wants to move closer, pull Minghao up to dance with him, see what would happen. Minghao is a dancer, and an incredible one at that. Seokmin has seen what he’s capable of.

“Seokmin!” Soonyoung hollars and smacks Seokmin’s ass while he passes by, effectively breaking the moment. Then, he manages to elegantly slide onto Wonwoo’s lap, flirting loud and shamelessly, much to his boyfriend’s amusement.

“Come here often, sexy?” Soonyoung wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s shoulders.

Wonwoo holds Soonyoung’s hip and steadies him, smiling fondly. “We see each other every day, babe.”

Seokmin snorts, then looks away before he has to witness them making out (again). When he glances back to the sofa, Minghao has his entire body turned towards Yugyeom, talking about something Seokmin can’t hear. The song ends and Seokmin wanders back to the kitchen to see if there’s anything else to drink.

December 24, 2017. Sunday.

11:55 PM.

“I’ll be right back.” Seokmin mumbles and stands up. They’re watching 100th Love With You, and Seokmin’s already seen it before. “Don’t pause, I’ll only be a minute.” Minghao hums, eyes glued to the screen.

Seokmin pads into his room and opens the drawer of his desk, picking up two carefully wrapped items — a small box and a book. He and Minghao agreed to exchange Christmas gifts at midnight. He licks his lips, butterflies in his belly. He had thought long and hard on each gift, but what if Minghao doesn’t like it? What if he only pretends to like it, for the sake of being nice?

“Seok?” Minghao calls out, and Seokmin sighs. He walks back out to the living room. Minghao had paused the movie and he’s sitting up, gift bag on his lap.

Seokmin chuckles, nervous. “I guess we could exchange gifts a few minutes early?”

“Might as well,” Minghao agrees and waits for Seokmin to sit back down on the sofa before handing him the bag.

There’s three things wrapped in the bag, and Seokmin starts with the most oddly shaped one: a pair of Gryffindor socks, with a small note attached that reads ‘I still think you’re a Hufflepuff, though’ . The next is a gift card to the movie theater that exclusively screens old films — the one Seokmin’s wanting to go to for a while now.

The last item, though, makes Seokmin blink a few times and looks up at Minghao in confusion. Guitar strings and picks? Seokmin had brought his old guitar with him when he moved here, but it ended up sitting in his closet or in storage for years. He hadn’t seriously played since he was sixteen.

“You said you wanted to get back to playing guitar, and the one you have is kinda old, with a few strings missing, so I thought…”

“This is..” Seokmin grins wide and pulls Minghao into a hug. “This is awesome. Thank you.” Sometimes — not too often — there’s a small feeling, a nagging in the back of his mind, that he talks and no one really listens. Seokmin thinks he’s only mentioned his frustrations with the guitar, feeling stuck with it, only once. And somehow, Minghao had remembered. “I’ll start tomorrow! Tonight, even.”

Minghao laughs and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I really do.” Seokmin pulls away, then nudges Minghao’s gifts towards him with a shy smile. “I hope these are alright...”

Minghao starts with the bigger package: a second-hand book on photography of various cities around the world, taken in different seasons and times of day. Minghao’s eyes seem to sparkle as he flips through the first few pages, and he hums, pleased.

It’s the next gift that has Seokmin worried. The minute he saw it, he knew he had to get it — it practically screamed Minghao. He watches Minghao carefully unravel the wrapping paper of the small box, and is reminded of the cashier at the store.

(“These are pretty,” she had said, smiling, and handled the box with care. “A gift for your special someone?”

Seokmin blinks. “Hm? No. Just for a friend.”)

“Earrings?” Minghao says softly, looking between the box in his hands and Seokmin. He swallows.

“Yeah. I saw them in the store and thought they would look nice on you?” Seokmin licks his lips, nervous. He’s never been as inclined to fashion as Minghao and Mingyu. “Are they okay? I could — if you don’t like them, I could, um.”

“I love them,” Minghao says quickly, cheeks tinged pink. “I like them a lot. They’re really nice.” He reaches up to take out the simple studs in his lobes and replace them with the dangling ones Seokmin bought, the tiny silver feather at the end swaying. “I think I know what outfit I’d wear them with…”

And it’s always the most random moments when Seokmin is struck with how handsome Minghao is, gentle curves and sharp lines put together to form a very pretty face. He clears his throat and glaces at the clock screen saver on Minghao’s laptop: 12:03 AM. “Merry Christmas, Minghao.”

Minghao’s gaze is soft. “Mm. Merry Christmas, Seokmin.”

May 16, 2017. Tuesday.

3:15 PM.

The sound of a camera clicking makes Seokmin open his eyes.

They’re at the park — just him and Minghao, since Seungkwan and Vernon had ditched them. Seokmin couldn’t really feel annoyed about it though. Like Seungkwan, he was going back to Korea for the summer in just a few days. If Seokmin was in a relationship, he’d also want to spend the precious few days between final exams and flying out with his partner. Hanging out with Minghao is fun, too, though.

“This one came out well,” Minghao says, more to himself than to Seokmin.

Seokmin sits up slowly from the massive rock he was laying back on, and holds his arms out so Minghao can pull him up.

Since he started taking photos, Minghao always ended up using his friends as spontaneous models, with Seokmin and Mingyu as the subjects most of the time. “What’re you gonna do once your favorite models are gone for the next few months?”

“I’ll survive.” Minghao grins back. “Maybe I’ll do little photoshoots for my cousins. I’m heading up to see them next weekend.”

“Are you — going to go to China at all over break?” Seokmin asks tentatively.

Minghao’s parents are in China. They had moved back as soon as he graduated high school, and Minghao had moved in with his aunt upstate. That’s all Seokmin knows. Minghao doesn’t talk about his parents too often.

“Not this year,” Minghao says, nonchalant. “I’ll be busy with work.”

“Not too busy to Skype with me, right?” Seokmin nudges him. “My uncle just got the cutest dog and I need to show her to you.”

“I’ll always have time for you.” Minghao’s voice sounds playful, but Seokmin knows somehow that he’s sincere.

Sometimes he wishes he could bring his friends back with him, show them around, the way they had done for him when he came to New York a few years ago. He’d show them the major sites and attractions, and the little things that weaved their way into his life and made him who he is today. He wonders how Minghao would fit in, what his family would think after meeting him in person instead of just hearing about him. “I’d think you’d like it there.”

“In Seoul?”

Seokmin nods. He can so clearly see Minghao walking down the street, camera in hand, headphones in, listening to whatever he felt fit the mood of the city.

The camera clicks again.

“Hey —” Seokmin turns his head to Minghao with a pout. He had zoned out, a little.

“Candids are best,” Minghao says, and shows him the photo: Seokmin is looking up, towards the sky, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. He looks relaxed. The slight breeze tousles his hair and the sun shines down on him, highlighting his nose and cheekbones. In a word, Seokmin thinks he looks nostalgic.

“You always manage to make me look good.”

Minghao rolls his eyes, good-naturedly. “You’re doing all the work. I’m just here to capture what I see.”

December 25, 2017. Monday.

7:24 PM.

The menu for Christmas dinner is a mix of Korean and Chinese food with a bottle of cheap wine for after. Seokmin bought a nice candle to put in the center of the tiny dining table to make it all feel fancy, like something out of a Christmas movie.

“Taste this.” Seokmin holds a spoon out, keeping an eye on the stove. Minghao had helped with prepping the food and agreed to do the dishes while Seokmin cooked. It’s a good system — it would’ve been easier with Mingyu around, but they make it work.

Usually, it’s the three of them — Seokmin, Mingyu, and Minghao — who cook together when their schedules allow for it. Mingyu loves to try out new things, and Seokmin and Minghao are pretty good in the kitchen when they aren’t too lazy to put effort in. Seokmin’s favorite time was during their freshman year when they decided to bake a cake in the dorm’s common kitchen, just because. Seokmin doesn’t remember how it happened or who started it, but it had somehow dissolved into chaos with icing all over everyone’s face and Seokmin laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. Their RA, Seungcheol, had tried to be stern when he found the kitchen in a disaster, but Seokmin definitely saw him leave with an amused smile.

Minghao saunters over, moving in time with the jazz playlist he had put on and opens his mouth, closing his eyes at the same time his lips close around the spoon. Seokmin bites his lip. His dishes, the one he had asked his mother about, had turned out decently. It’s the dishes Minghao had requested that he’s worried about. Even if he followed the recipe to the smallest details, he’s just a rookie in the face of Minghao’s aunt’s cooking. “How is it?”

Minghao pulls back and leans against the counter. A slow smile spreads over his face (something buzzes inside Seokmin — probably left over nervousness and a bit of pride from cooking something passable). “It's perfect.”

March 3, 2017. Friday.

5:14 PM.

“Seokmin. I need to talk to you.” Minghao knocks on the door and waits all but three seconds before walking in like he’s on a mission. He falters though, when he looks around, taking in Seokmin’s natural, undisturbed habitat. His eyes narrow a bit when they land on an open packet of gummy bears sitting on a throne of orange peels and an empty pudding cup. There’s a reason people don’t come into Seokmin’s room often, and why Minghao would never room with anyone other than Mingyu. “Damn...you live like this?”

Seokmin huffs and lets himself fall back onto his mattress, seeking comfort from his pillow. “I’m laying here...distressed, in the middle of a crisis.” He can feel permanent wrinkles forming on his forehead already. “Why are you judging me in my own room?”

Minghao’s eyes widen a little as he pulls the chair out from Seokmin’s desk and plops down. “What’s up?”

“I..” Seokmin sniffs. Perhaps in this cold, cruel world — Minghao is the only person he can trust. “I was scrolling through Jaehyun's Instagram and I accidentally liked a photo.”

“Uh-huh…”

“From fifty-two weeks ago.” Seokmin groans. He’s going to die alone. “Fifty-two weeks.”

“Unlike it then?” Minghao offers.

“What if he still gets the notification?” Seokmin snaps his head towards Minghao’s direction and nearly gives himself whiplash. “It’s from a year ago Hao. This is the worst thing to ever happen.”

Minghao frowns and rolls himself closed to the bed. “Com’on. It’s not the worst thing.”

“It’s embarrassing.” Seokmin pouts. Maybe he’s overreacting a little. “I’m gonna be known as ‘that creepy instagram stalker from lecture’. Or like Jihoon likes to put it: ‘a walking disaster’.”

“He might think it’s a glitch on the app or something. He might not even notice it amongst his other notifications.”

Seokmin nearly whimpers at that. “You’re right, he’d never really notice me.”

Minghao clears his throat, then says, “Does it really matter what Jaehyun thinks of you?”

Seokmin frowns. Because of course it does. “He’s just so great, Minghao. He’s handsome and really nice and he’s on the basketball team and he has dimples. Plus he’s always — glowing when I see him. Who even looks that good consistently for 9AM lectures?”

“You like him.” Minghao is blunt. The corners of his lips are tilted down. Seokmin wonders if he knows Jaehyun personally, if there’s a reason he looks so unimpressed (is it possible not to be impressed by Jeffery Jung?).

“I…” Seokmin blushes. Because he hasn’t really said it out loud yet. “I guess I do, yeah.”

Minghao sighs and leans forward in the chair. “Listen. First of all, this isn’t the end of the world.” He holds his hand out and puts one finger up for each point he makes. “Two, if he’s as great as you say, he won’t be a dick about it. Three, you deserve to be with someone who’s gonna treat you well.” He pauses. “And, uh. Four: I’m suddenly in the mood for chicken wings, and I was thinking of ordering from that place you like.”

Seokmin lets a grin creep onto his face and mumbles a small “thank you”. Minghao is too good to him, really.

“And...You’re not a disaster, Seokmin.” Minghao leans back in the chair, gaze suddenly intense, unreadable. “You’re kinda…”

“A mess?” Seokmin fills in, still grinning. Self-deprecation is easy, a buffer for anything that could come next.

Minghao stands up slowly. His eyes wander back to the packet of gummy bears on Seokmin’s desk. “Kinda wonderful.”

Seokmin blinks a few times, warmth spreading in his chest. He watches Minghao make his way out of the room (he has to step over a pair of jeans that have seen better days) before remembering: “What were you going to say earlier? You wanted to talk to me.”

When Minghao turns around, he’s biting his lower lip. Then he puts on a smile. It’s the same kind he uses when he’s talking to strangers: polite but closed off. “I forgot. It probably wasn’t anything important.”

December 26, 2017. Tuesday.

1:27 PM.

“Let’s go ice skating,” Minghao says as soon as he walks into the apartment. He’s got two small-sized paper cups in his hand from work.

“Hello to you, too.” Seokmin takes a cup when Minghao hands him one. He lifts to lid and grins when he finds it’s hot chocolate, probably mixed with a variety of syrups that aren’t on the menu. “Thanks.”

Minghao nods, then pulls his beanie off, making his hair stick up. Seokmin wants to reach out and fix it. “So. Ice skating?”

“I’ve never done it before.” Seokmin licks his lips. When he brings the cup up to his mouth, the warm drink is just the right temperature.

“I’ll teach you,” Minghao says. “I haven’t done it in a while, but I’m sure we’ll both get the hang of it.”

He sounds so earnest about it. Seokmin smiles. “What made you wanna do this — all of a sudden?”

“My coworker kept talking about it. She went with her girlfriend.” Minghao clears his throat, then adds quickly, “But if you’re not up for it, I don’t want to push you.”

“I do want to go! I’ve always wanted to go see the giant Christmas tree and go ice skating.” The Rockefeller Tree. He’s only seen it in pictures, even after living in New York City for three years. From what he can tell, from photos and movies, there seems to be something mellow and romantic about the place. His smile softens.

Minghao squints, like he’s studying Seokmin and not liking what he’s finding. “Are you fantasizing about skating with that Jaehyun guy?”

Seokmin sputters — because really, his mind hadn’t gone there at all. If he’s honest, he hasn’t thought about Jaehyun in a while (even if he does still hold the status of The Most Handsome Man Alive). “I’m over him!”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “So if I were to tell you he’s dating some older guy, it wouldn’t bother you?”

Seokmin blinks. There’s no pain in his chest, no sound of a breaking heart, no tears threatening to fall. His world isn’t coming crashing down around him because his crush doesn’t like him back. And it’s a little weird. He nods. “I’m really over him, I promise.”

September 15, 2017. Friday.

5:45 PM.

Seokmin’s lounging on the sofa, the textbook he should be reading abandoned in favor of lazily trying to catch what he can from the vicinity of his apartment on Pokémon Go. Minghao breezes by him and briskly sorts through the collection of shoes by the front door for something to match his outfit.

He looks — really nice. Hair styled back, parted neatly. Three piercings in each ear. Striped shirt under a leather jacket and cuffed skinny jeans.

Seokmin raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it too early to be going out for a party?”

Minghao stiffens then turns to Seokmin. He’s got a hint of eyeliner on, making his entire face look sharper. “I have...a date.”

“Oh,” Seokmin says. There’s a weird tightness in his belly. He doesn’t know why the thought of Minghao on a date is so strange. Minghao is attractive and single — why wouldn’t he go on a date? “I didn’t know you liked someone.”

Minghao shrugs and turns his attention back to the shoes. He decides on black combat boots. “Just some guy I matched with.”

Seokmin nods slowly. And he wonders, just for a moment, what a date with Minghao would be like — where they would go, what they would eat, if Minghao likes holding hands. “Um — have fun!” He says, but it sounds hollow.

Minghao offers him a small smile and waves before slipping out the front door.

Seokmin’s phone buzzes. There’s a wild Drowzee that needs his attention.

December 27, 2017. Wednesday.

2:18 PM.

If something had to exist right in the center of the spectrum between fun and terrifying, ice skating would be the perfect candidate.

“Don’t let go,” Seokmin whines, fingers digging into Minghao’s arm. Part of him feels sorry, but a much larger part refuses to fall over for a third time. He isn’t sure how rational his fear of someone skating over his face while he’s on the ground is, and he’s not willing to take a chance with it.

Minghao laughs. Skating by the Rockefeller Tree ended up being impossible with the cost and the ridiculous wait time. But Minghao had managed to find a small rink, somewhere out of the way, that wasn’t too crowded. “You’re not gonna be able to skate if you keep clinging to me.”

“And I’m perfectly okay with that,” Seokmin grumbles.

“Come on.” Minghao slowly extracts himself from Seokmin’s grip and stands a foot in front of him instead. “Try one more time, then we’ll take a break. Skate to me.”

Seokmin takes a deep breath, then pushes forward, moving one foot in front of the other. He’s still a little shaky, still unsure and uncomfortable with the glide. But Minghao is in front of him, skating backwards at the same slow pace with an encouraging smile. And it isn’t so bad.

He even makes it halfway around the rink before tripping over nothing in particular, stumbling forward, gasping in panic.

But Minghao is there, and Seokmin is in his arms instead of on the cold ground with a busted knee. Seokmin sighs in relief and rests his forehead on Minghao’s shoulder. They’re just about the same height (Minghao’s just the slightest bit taller), but it’s comfortable.

“You good?” Minghao mumbles, close to his ear, and draws him in, holding Seokmin more securely.

Seokmin smiles into the material of Minghao’s jacket and hugs him back, just for a moment. “Yeah.”

*

6:08 PM

“It’s so pretty,” Seokmin sighs wistfully, staring up at the colossal tree. They decided to at least go see the Rockefeller tree from as close as they could before dinner. His legs are already sore from skating, but this view — even if they are further away than he had hoped — makes him feel better.

“You’re pretty too.” Minghao says softly, and something drops into Seokmin’s stomach, then leaps into his throat. And when Seokmin turns to look at him, Minghao looks as surprised as Seokmin feels, his eyes wide.

“What?” Minghao’s voice cracks, and his cheeks are turning bright red. He chuckles and lifts a hand run his fingers through his hair, only to realize he’s still wearing a hat. He scratches at his cheek instead, then lets his hand falls to his side. “It’s a compliment? You’re supposed to say ‘thank you’, or something.”

“It made my heart race.” Seokmin says automatically, meant to tease, and puts on a grin. Except it doesn’t feel the way it does when he’s joking around with Soonyoung. This isn’t the over-the-top flirting that doesn’t mean anything. He feels too honest, strangely.

Minghao presses his lips into a line, then smiles softly, eyes not quite meeting Seokmin’s. “Ah. Really?” And there’s something about all of it, about Minghao in this moment, that’s really cute.

“My heart is — uh. It’s beating,” Seokmin says, unintelligibly. His cheek warm when Minghao laughs, voice soft and high.

“I sure hope so,” he teases back. “You’d die if it weren’t.”

Seokmin chuckles, and Minghao nudges at his arm, then pulls out his phone. “Come on. I’ll take your picture.”

October 9, 2017. Monday.

12:23 PM.

“So, how’s it going with Tinder-guy?” Seokmin asks, eyebrows tilting up in dismay when Wonwoo very openly steals a fry from him. He only gets a smirk in response, and he swears Wonwoo’s glasses glint — like an anime character.

“What?” Minghao raises his eyebrows. Seokmin’s seen him go out a few times, all dressed up, but Minghao’s never mentioned anything about his dates. Seokmin never even got a name out of him. “Oh. It didn’t work out.”

“Wonder why.” Jihoon mumbles, but Seokmin doesn’t pay much attention to the statement.

“That’s too bad,” he says. And he really means it. He wants Minghao to be happy, after all.

Minghao sits back in his seat. He’s across from Seokmin, and when he stretches his legs, his foot bumps against Seokmin’s ankle lightly. “It’s fine. I wasn’t that into him anyway.”

Seokmin smiles, kindly. “I’m sure you’ll find someone.” Minghao doesn’t talk to him much about dating, stuff like that. He wonders what kind of person Minghao would be into. Jihoon coughs.

Minghao’s lips tilt up, and he lets out an amused huff. “Yeah. I hope so.”

December 28, 2017. Thursday.

??:?? PM.

Winter Break wouldn’t be complete without a Spider-Man Marathon.

This is something Seokmin firmly believes in and holds to nearly every year, and this year is no different. He can quote the movies in Korean and English, but they never get old.

He loses track of time, because they’re on second movie of the second revamp now, and he’s far too comfortable, snuggled up again Minghao, to care about anything outside their little bubble in the living room.

He knows Minghao is kind of sleepy. His eyes were drooping a little half-way through The Amazing Spider-Man 2  and he had scrabbled at the empty popcorn bowl for a good twenty seconds before giving up and sliding his hand away.

“You don’t have to stay up,” Seokmin had said, concerned. “We can finish watching tomorrow.”

Minghao shook his head. “I want to watch, it’s fine. I’m not tired.”

“Are you sure?” Guilt chewed at Seokmin’s insides, and he reached to pause the movie. But Minghao stopped him, fingers curling around Seokmin’s forearm .

“I really wanna watch. It’s been a while since I saw the movies.” Minghao smiled, the expression sweet and soft. “Promise I’ll tell you if I wanna stop.”

Seokmin pouted. “Alright...You can use me as a pillow, if you want.”

Minghao seemed to contemplate for a moment before shifting closer and tentatively resting his head on Seokmin’s shoulder. “You’re comfy,” he said softly.

And they hadn’t really moved since.

There’s a lull in the action on screen now. Minghao shifts a little, and Seokmin feel eyes on him. And when he turns his head, Minghao is looking back at him, and this is maybe the closest they’ve ever been — their faces, at least. 

Seokmin is frozen, held in place by Minghao’s gaze. And Minghao seems stuck too, eyes wide, face open, and Seokmin doesn’t even realize he’s slowly inching closer until Minghao lets out a shaky breath and Seokmin can feel it against his skin.

The movie feels so far away, the sound from the speakers of Minghao’s laptop seem muffled, but Seokmin knows Ginny is leaning in, knows she’s going to brush her lips against Harry’s.

And something makes Seokmin lean in too, eyes lidded as he watches Minghao tilt his head just the slightest, watches his soft-looking lips part.

They’re going to kiss. He’s going to kiss Minghao.

Minghao.

And then the scene ends.

Seokmin flinches when the music changes. Minghao pulls away quickly and stands up.

“I have to use the bathroom,” he says when he’s halfway out the room.

Seokmin nods and pauses the movie. He presses a hand to his chest, trying to stop his heart from bursting right out of him. Warmth blooms in his cheeks and spreads to his ears, down the back of his neck. They could have kissed.

They could’ve kissed, and Seokmin doesn’t mind the idea of it at all. In fact, he kind of likes it. He wants to try it. He wants, so badly, to kiss Minghao right now.

When Minghao comes back, Seokmin watches him from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge how Minghao is feeling. But he’s closed off, expression blank, eyes fixed to the screen.

They spend the rest of the movie on opposite sides of the sofa.

November 10, 2017. Friday.

2:56 PM.

“Where is he?” Seokmin mumbles and Minghao checks his phone for any new messages.

They’re supposed to meet up with Mingyu so he can take them to some obscure cafe he found. He refuses to give them the address — “it’s more fun this way,” he had said.

And it would be. If it wasn’t freezing.

Seokmin wraps his arms around himself and regrets not wearing more layers. It was warm enough for shorts last week, but now the breeze is cold enough to chill Seokmin to the bone. He glances at Minghao, who seems comfortable, not at all bothered by the wind ruffling his hair.

As if on cue, Minghao looks at Seokmin and his lips quirk up. He holds his arms open. “Come here.”

And Seokmin doesn’t have to be told twice. He shuffles into Minghao’s space, humming when he feels Minghao’s arms slide around his waist. He wraps his arms around Minghao in return.

They aren’t exactly hugging — just holding each other and standing close for warmth. And it honestly isn’t doing that much for Seokmin, but it’s nice, and better than nothing at all.

“Hey!” Mingyu calls out when he finally shows up, and jogs towards them, nearly bumping into someone on the way. “Sorry I’m late, some guy in lecture wanted to get last week’s notes.” His eyes go between him and Minghao, then he gives Minghao a look, and Minghao’s eyebrows come together, the corners of his lips twitching: some sort of best-friend-telepathy Seokmin doesn’t understand. “Though you two seem fine like this.”

Seokmin grins, teasing, and he shuffles away from Mingyu, gently tugging Minghao along with him. “This is my personal heater. Go get your own.”

Mingyu lets out an exasperated laugh. “Is this what it feels like when you guys third-wheel me and Jungkook?”

Seokmin is about to open his mouth to ask Mingyu how this is anything like third-and-fourth-wheeling a date, when Minghao pulls away with a snort. “So — you’re treating us to coffee, right?”

“I never said anything like that…” Mingyu pouts, but slings his arms over Seokmin and Minghao’s shoulders, steering them in the right direction.

They fall into a light banter, and Seokmin just smiles as he listens, distracted by his own thoughts, wondering what Mingyu meant. It’s not like hugging, or that kind of physical closeness, is weird amongst them. Especially Minghao, who always seems to gravitate to people, with easy touches and hugs.

Seokmin pushes his thoughts aside, when they reach the not-so-obscure coffee shop, and instead tries to figure out how to wheedle Mingyu into buying him one of the cute pastries along with his drink.

December 29, 2017. Friday.

1:03 AM.

It’s an unremarkable time (just past one in the morning) in an unremarkable place (Seokmin’s dark bedroom) when Seokmin realizes something remarkable: he likes Minghao.

And the realization isn’t as groundbreaking as he thought something like this would be. He likes his friend. One of his closest friends. One of his flatmates. Minghao, who has always been right there next to Seokmin through everything Seokmin’s faced over the past three years in university, in a new country.

So Seokmin does the only thing he can think to do in a situation like this:

TO : jeonghannie
T___T
are you awake?
if you’re not, that’s okay too….i can wait

He really can’t wait, but Jeonghan’s reply is almost instant.

FROM : jeonghannie
seokmin...my favorite son…

TO : jeonghannie
i thought that was chan?

FROM : jeonghannie
chan left me on read :\
anyway
what can i do for you?

TO : jeonghannie
i think i like someone T__T
i mean
im pretty sure i like someone

FROM :jeonghannie
go on..

Seokmin takes a deep breath, heart racing at just typing out a name. He bites down on his lower lip and presses send.

TO : jeonghannie
Minghao..?

FROM :jeonghannie
...did you just realize…?

Seokmin’s heart is practically in his throat. How is it that everyone seems to know except for him? His phone buzzes again when he fails to reply.

FROM : Jjeonghannie
the two of you have been giving each other heart eyes for like a year now

Seokmin squeaks, then slaps his hand over his mouth, and frantically re-reads the message three times.

TO : jeonghannie
he likes me???

FROM : jeonghannie
are u kidding me? he watches u like a sunflower following the sun

Seokmin fights off the blush rising on his cheeks. Because there’s no way. How could someone like Minghao — someone so accomplished, so sure of himself, so kind and good with people, so amazing in everything he does — like someone like Seokmin ?

TO :jeonghannie
thats rly poetic...

FROM : jeonghannie
i’m serious.
you’ve really never noticed how he looks at you?

TO : jeonghannie
i dont know...

FROM : jeonghannie
think about it
tell him how you feel when you’re ready
(and that does NOT mean pine over him until three years after graduation...)

Seokmin snorts. He would not pine over Minghao for that long (would he?).

FROM : jeonghannie
take a leap of faith or whatever
it’ll be worth it

TO : jeonghannie
thank you T__T for everything

FROM : Jeonghannie hyung
love ya.
now go to sleep
worry about it in the morning

Seokmin smiles and sets his phone down. He nuzzles into his pillow and tries to follow Jeonghan’s advice.

*

3:24 AM.

He can’t follow Jeonghan’s advice.

He’s been scrolling through every picture of Minghao he can find on social media, even though he’s seen most of them (the shirtless photo on Sicheng’s instagram is new to him though, dragon tattoo on full display. Seokmin’s cheeks heat up).

There’s a series of photos he finds from last fall, when a bunch of them had gone to the park on a clear day after a week of horrible weather. In one, he’s arm wrestling Minghao, with Mingyu seated in between them on the other side of the table. He was supposed to judge the match, but his eyes are on something outside of the frame. Seokmin had been focused on their hands, concentrated on winning, his nose wrinkled up in effort. And Minghao — Seokmin realizes now, for the first time — had been looking directly at him, lips curled up in a smile that looks reminiscent of the kinds of smiles Wonwoo gives Soonyoung, or the ones Vernon has on reserve for Seungkwan.

Another photo is a candid of them at Soonyoung’s apartment, a selfie Junhui had taken and they had been in the background. And Minghao had his fingers loosely wrapped around Seokmin’s wrist as they talked.

Another photo of them hugging after Minghao’s solo dance performance. Another of the two of them eating lunch. Another of them studying.

And maybe because it’s that weird time of the night when Seokmin would believe just about anything, but in each one of the pictures, it really does seem like Minghao is looking at him like Seokmin is truly worthy of all of his love and attention. And if Seokmin thinks about it, Minghao does make him feel like he’s worth it too.

Seokmin doesn’t know how long he spends, scrolling through photos. He falls asleep after staring at a selfie they took together, freshman year, at their first college party. Both of their faces were flushed from the alcohol, and Seokmin had been laughing while Minghao’s lips were puckered, and he was leaning in like he was going to kiss Seokmin’s cheek (he never did).

April 8, 2017. Saturday.

6:09 PM.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says. They’re studying. Or, they’re supposed to be studying. Seokmin has read the same line in his textbook ten times now and he’s pretty sure Soonyoung has been staring at the ceiling for a solid three minutes.

Seokmin rubs his eyes. “Yeah?”

“You ever wonder who, in our group of friends, would be like — the best and worst at kissing?” Soonyoung tries to twirl his pencil between his fingers. It falls onto the table.

“What?” Seokmin rubs his eyes again. “Aren’t you — in a committed relationship?”

“So?” Soonyoung shrugs. “We talk about this kind of stuff all the time. It’s not like I’d just go around kissing other people.”

Soonyoung and Wonwoo have been dating for four years now. If this is what they like, who is Seokmin to question it. “Where would I be ranked?”

Soonyoung grins and picks up his pencil. “I don’t have everyone ranked by number — yet. But you look like the overly-eager type. Like, I bet the first time you just rushed in without actually knowing what you’re doing.”

Seokmin huffs and tries to pretend like his first kiss wasn’t a complete disaster (sorry, Yuna), with his nose getting in the way and his eyes wide open and the muscles of his mouth too tight. “How about Mingyu?”

“Mmm. Messy, probably.”

“Jeonghan?”

“I imagine it feels like the touch of an angel.”

“Minghao?”

Soonyoung’s eyes glint at that. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Soonyoung leans forward, elbows on the table and chin cushioned on his palm. “Haven’t you ever thought about kissing Minghao?”

“No?” Seokmin smiles because he doesn’t know what else to do. There’s no reason for him to be thinking about Minghao and kissing. Except now, since Soonyoung has put it in his brain. He shakes his head. “So who ranks higher — you or Wonwoo?”

Soonyoung leans forward, eyes darting around the room before whispering, like he’s holding top secret information: “Don’t tell him I said this, but Wonwoo. His— ”

Seokmin flicks a crumpled sticky note at Soonyoung and laughs. “Okay.”

Soonyoung flashes an impish grin and turns back to his notes, and Seokmin does the same. Or, he tries his best. Every ten lines he reads are interrupted by the thought of Minghao and what kind of a kisser he would be — just because Soonyoung never answered his question (no other reason, of course). He sighs. It’s going to be a long evening.

December 30, 2017. Saturday.

5:21 PM.

Having courage is easier said than done. He’s spent the last day or so awkwardly skirting around Minghao in their own apartment, and trying even harder to push away thoughts of soft looking lips and gentle laughs.

The thing is: he feels silly.

He’s so overcome with affection for Minghao that it’s ridiculous he didn’t realize it sooner. When he likes someone, it’s obvious — to everyone around him but especially to himself. It’s always love at first sight, and Seokmin has fallen in love more times than he can count. It’s instant attraction. It’s always a racing heart, sweaty hands, and burning cheeks. It’s stumbling over words and making a fool of himself. It’s going on about how beautiful they are to anyone who would listen. It’s being too terrified to make a move and just watching from afar.

But with Minghao…

Minghao had always been there. A kind smile and a helping hand when Seokmin first met him. Seokmin had entered his orbit within one week of knowing Minghao, and had stayed there ever since, never questioning the gravitational pull.

Because it was always comfortable and easy with Minghao. It feels warm and pleasant, not hot and overwhelming to the point of discomfort. It feels natural. It feels like Minghao is the right piece of the jigsaw puzzle Seokmin has been trying to complete but never realized was right in front of him.

But what if Minghao doesn’t actually like him back? What if he ruins whatever they have right now? Wasn’t there a rule for dating friends — what if it messed up the entire friend group?

December 31, 2017. Sunday.

11:58 PM.

Even if it’s disgustingly cold outside and they haven’t had an actual conversation in almost two days, they can’t not go out for New Year’s Eve. Being in a room with a bunch of other people to distract them is better than being together in their quiet apartment.

It gives them something to focus on, at least — everything going on around them. Even if Seokmin keeps glancing over at Minghao the entire time.

There is one minute left when Minghao turns to him with a small smile. “Any resolutions for the new year?”

Seokmin turns to him in surprise. Minghao's offering him an olive branch, a chance to build a bridge and move past what almost happened. He says the first thing that comes to mind. “Not fall if we go skating again?”

Minghao chuckles, the sound of it floating up and getting lost in the sea of people chanting the countdown. And like that — the tension breaks and everything between them feels normal again.

5

(Seokmin grins, wide and genuine.)

4

(Minghao is smiling too, eyes bright.)

3

(Seokmin’s real New Year’s resolution?)

2

(To stop being a coward.)

1

“Happy New Year!”

There’s an explosion of light and color and sound, and Seokmin feels more than hears himself cheering along with everyone else.

“Seokmin!” Minghao moves closer and wraps one arm around Seokmin’s shoulders. “Happy New Year!”

Around them, there are so many couples kissing, wrapped up in each other’s embrace. Seokmin’s gaze drifts down to Minghao’s lips, then up to his eyes. He beams. “Happy New Year!”

January 1, 2018. Monday.

1:48 AM.

They take the subway back, sober but still grinning too wide and bumping into each other lightly, cheeks and noses red from the cold.

“Warmth!” Minghao sighs in relief as soon as they close the apartment door behind them. He wastes no time in slipping off his shoes and socks, and setting his coat to the side before making his way to the kitchen. He opens the cabinet that holds all their snacks. “Are you hungry?”

“Hang on! We need to make the first meal of the year count!” Seokmin fumbles with his own shoes and jacket, then follows Minghao and peers over his shoulder.

“How about —” Minghao spins around, suddenly, and his lips part, surprised at how close Seokmin is. And Seokmin lets himself think about how beautiful Minghao looks. He lets himself trace every detail and outline of Minghao’s face with his eyes. He lets himself take one tiny step closer. “Seok?”

The angel and devil seated on Seokmin’s shoulders — who look strangely like Jeonghan and Soonyoung — are chanting: Kiss him! Kiss him!!

Maybe because it’s late, maybe because the turn of the new year is supposed to symbolize change, maybe because in this moment, it feels so right — a surge of confidence floods Seokmin and he says, “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Minghao’s eyes become almost comically wide, his voice tight.

“Can I kiss you?” Seokmin says again. He licks his lips, nervous, and Minghao’s eyes flicker to follow the movement. “My lips on your lips, and —”

“Yes.” Minghao breathes, and Seokmin isn’t sure who moves in first, but they’re suddenly so intimately close. Minghao’s hand hovers before settling on Seokmin’s waist, and Seokmin shiveres. He wonders how such a simple touch can feel so electric.

Their noses brush against each other first, their breath meeting before their mouths, and everything seems to go in slow motion.

Until Minghao’s fingers curl into Seokmin’s shirt. “Wait.” He pulls back and swallows hard. “Is this just because it’s New Year’s and everyone else was kissing back there?” His eyes narrow, and for a second, he looks vulnerable, ready to break at the slightest touch, before hardening back to his usual self.

Seokmin shakes his head. Take a leap. “I like you, Minghao.” He smiles softly, cheeks turning pink. He feels a weight lifted off his chest.  

Minghao looks at him carefully, studying him, searching for lies. But Seokmin’s an open book for him, now that he can be honest with himself. And when Minghao brings a hand up to gently cup Seokmin’s cheek, it’s so tender, fingers soft against his skin, that Seokmin thinks he might melt. “I like you, too.” He lets out a breathless chuckle. “I like you a lot, Seokmin.”

Their first kiss is chaste, a bashful hello. The second is wonderful, the third more intense when Minghao threads his fingers into Seokmin’s hair and Seokmin winds his arms around Minghao’s hips and holds him closer. The fourth kiss is perfect, and Seokmin doesn’t know how long they stand there — barefoot on the tiled kitchen floor, learning new parts of each other and finding comfort in the familiar.