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It’s safe to say that Mingyu’s parties are pretty awful, without a fault coming to an end when the sound of sirens can’t be quite heard on the account of the deafening and sick music echoing from the speakers, though red and blue lights wash the living room like lighthouses, most times than not leaving their friends with no option but to leave the place through the backdoor and hide behind the neighbor’s bushes until the cops get tired of chasing inoffensive teens, then get back inside to clean the house and put the trash out before Mingyu’s parents arrive from their night shifts at the hospital.
(The cops always step on Mingyu’s mom’s orange lilies planted near the windows when they cross the lawn to put the party down – it’s uncalled for, but Mingyu is hardly ever around to stop them because he is a pro at inviting people over and capable of toping Usain Bolt with ease when it’s time to head upstairs with Wonwoo on his tow, fingers interlocked with such vigor their knuckles lack color and go white, so they can suck each other's faces in his bedroom for hours to end)
But partying at Mingyu’s is a small tradition they have been following and gotten extremely attached to for the past years. Minghao can’t say for a fact when the tradition started – perhaps it happened before he came to the country –, but now it’s clear that the event was doomed since night one: the living room isn’t sufficiently big to shelter that many guests, the sofa isn’t duly waterproofed or anything so it sports fading beer stains here and there, to which Mingyu blames Minghao for whenever his mom questions about it, so now the woman thinks he’s a messy eater of sorts and just lets it go; sometimes the living room gets so crowded that kids pile up on the floor, on top of the furniture or at any other surface available; and the beer often ends before the night is over because Minghao is always the responsible for something like convincing the cashier of the local liquor store that he’s definitely old enough to buy twenty packs of beer. He looks like a fucking fifteen-year-old teenager when his hair is dyed the color of hazelnut and convincing the guy who is always chewing gum and pulling his best indifferent face that he’s twenty-one albeit he’s eighteen is a tough task for him. The cashier allows him to buy half the quantity intended and shoos him out the door every damn time. Minghao takes what he can get.
Soonyoung and his octopus arms shattered Minghao’s brand new phone on the pavement on one of these nights. Chan threw up all over his shirt on his first time drinking vodka. The cops are always a few hours away from coming around and tell the kids to lower the volume, come outside and go home. And to top it off, the host is never around.
But Minghao always puts up with it either way because it’s fun most times and the bad logistics never stop Soonyoung when he decides it’s time to dance and own the suburban two-story house as he goes so hard that girls talk about him and his over the top dance skills all night. Not being able to dance as well as their dancing king doesn’t stop the rest from risking moves either; Seungkwan and Seokmin can be found performing choreographies only the two of them know about, without a care in the world, arms and hips swaying in thin air, so immersed in it they elicit several sympathetic grins from the kids crossing the living room with the kitchen in mind.
Tonight, however, it feels like a liability. It’s been an entire year since Chan has puked on his clothes and though he has forgiven him, told him it was alright and even walked him home afterward, Minghao swears tonight his favorite bomber jacket smells like puke and he notices he still hold grudges of his youngest friend. He can’t enjoy dancing without a care in the world because he’s got plenty. Jeonghan, Joshua and Seungcheol aren’t around and there aren’t many nights someone duked out of their sacred tradition because if they did, the others would look at the traitor funny, but the trio is on their first year of college and it feels like the moment the 13 of them will eventually part ways begins tonight.
All things considered, deep down Minghao is aware that this party, in particular, sucks extra balls due to Hansol’s absence. But this–Well, this is Minghao’s fault only.
He really shouldn’t have kissed him out of the blue the night before.
It’s around 1 a.m. now, and Junhui is sprawled by his side at the sofa, befitting of a teen who can’t hold their liquor well. Seven-meter-long legs parted incredibly wide they leave no space for Minghao’s own, eyes hiding on the crook of his elbow, posture a mess but hair looking pretty cool mussed sideways, which is a shame because no one can quite see him with lights turned down low the way they are. Junhui is done for, he’d be better calling it a night and being sent home, but Junhui is a fighter and won’t go down without a good fight (meaning: two hours of whines and protests). Minghao appreciates that.
Minghao, however, knows things are about to go down in a few, so he lays low on his seat, nearby the windows. He looks like he’s about to end someone and, unlike Jihoon, who is all talk but no action, this isn't a good look on him because even if he’s easily mistaken by a 15 y/o, people believe he is capable of such thing. Tonight he’ll be the first to spot the cops' car because he can see the cul-de-sac entrance from the windows. He will watch the lilies this time too.
What he sees, though, is a metallic-blue bike making its way inside the street and toward the house, sparkling to the lampposts, and as it approaches the front yard, Minghao all but shrinks on his cushioned seat, certainly not sure whether he should feel happier now that Hansol has come round, even though he’s later than the usual, or he’d rather continue not replying to his messages and putting some much needed distance between them.
Therefore, by the time Hansol stops pedaling three meters away from the driveway and leaves his bike on the curb to promptly jog inside the lawn, Minghao’s almost completely hidden, with only his big eyes and long, thin fingers peeking out. The next minute, Hansol’s knocking his knuckles on the windowpane and whipping his chin to gesture for a cheek ablaze Minghao to follow him outside.
Minghao nods rather avidly for someone who has given radio silence to one of his best friends for the past twenty-four hours, however, it’s only for show. Hansol looks taken aback at first, perhaps noticing how easy it had been to convince Minghao to come out of his hideaway, but nods once and backs away, face stoic as he avoids stepping on the orange flowers and green buds by leaping over them in a childlike fashion.
Minghao pushes his body from the sofa in a tempestuous whim. Not to meet his cruel fate outside, but to bang his head on the nearer wall for he gathers the courage to confront Hansol. Two small groups of girls hanging near the other living room window stare at him in silence, but he doesn’t really bother with them.
He spins on his heels to give Junhui a heads up. He regrets banging his head already. All he’s got was an aching forehead instead of the intended concussion that should’ve made him pass out and give him more time to avoid convos he’d rather escape from. “I’ll be back soon. Or not. Drink whatever you got left ‘fore we got to duck out but don’t go too far,” he advises and disappears through the door.
“Took you long enough!” Hansol tells him, sat on the healthy green lawn with crossed legs.
“My jacket smells of Chan’s puke and I tried to take care of it, but there was someone crying inside the bathroom,” he lies and it rolls off his tongue effortlessly as he remains standing close to the curb to test the waters.
There is always someone locked up crying in the bathroom when you need to use it the most. Most times for seeing their crushes grinding onto someone else when a sexier beat from Jihoon’s personal Spotify playlist starts playing, but sometimes because their favorite song has come on the speakers and they all but burst into tears of joy and excitement. Hansol tells him such.
He sinks down to Hansol’s side then. The coast is clear. The grass is damp against his dark jeans, either from night dew or someone’s wasted beer, he’ll never know.
“Besides, it doesn’t smell like anything particular but your cologne,” Hansol informs leaning in inconspicuously and sniffing him a bit. Then he rears backward and sits with a perfectly incorrect posture again. “You’re always complaining about this jacket. Think you just like it when I lean in to smell you.”
The iffy assumption gives Minghao a facelift and he even huffs out a helpless laugh. “What a weirdo I’d be if that was the case,” he says and moves his hands on the grass behind his back to support the weight of his body.
“Right,” Hansol nods and licks his lips before continuing. “Tried to hit you up earlier in the night to let you guys know I’d be going out for dinner with my parents and not make it here maybe.”
“My phone died.”
“Threw me off the scent. Sof got in the school band so we went out to celebrate.”
“The band is lame but if she’s into it, then she’s into it.”
“Your mind,” Hansol nods with a smirk and Minghao smirks right back. “She doesn’t listen to what people got to say about her. She’s a smart girl.”
“It must run in the blood. Did you got home and then came here? I’d be fast asleep if I were in your place. Cops showing up at any minute now. They’re late and really letting us dream.”
Hansol moves his head to the opposite direction, towards the beginning of the street. Perhaps making a double check before informing him that there’s a fire downtown and all cops cars seemed to have driven there because hell was breaking loose.
“And I did try to sleep.”
Hansol unzips his hoodie to reveal the mud-green top he often wears to sleep. Minghao hadn’t found odd that Hansol came to the party in his joggers the moment he found him on the lawn because the boy has always had a distinct way of dressing, part times completely unpredictable and part times some kind of wonderful-ish, but this explains a lot his choice of clothing.
He still doesn’t get why he came over, however. Hansol doesn’t even drink and in all honesty, Minghao doesn’t know what he does at these parties besides seeing others getting drunk and making fools out of themselves in front of people they see every day in school and will most definitely hold it against them throughout the school year.
“When we got home I went to bed but falling asleep wasn’t working so I climbed out of the window. I was hoping you hadn’t ducked this time so I wouldn’t have to deal with Drunk Jun all by myself.”
“Nonsense.” He shakes his head. “I would never.”
Hansol’s brows meet in the middle and wrinkles show up on his skin. “Man, you’re always trying to duck out,” he recalls Minghao’s rare jailbreak attempts. But the boy ran on their school team for the past four years. If Minghao had any intention of escape, he’d probably be successful.
“No, man, I’m the life of this party. I’m always around. I’m more around than Mingyu himself,” Minghao says and suppresses a smirk, looking on amused. Winding Hansol up is entertaining, to say the least, and it’s a shame that they often have the same opinion about all sorts of things and don’t get to playfully argue as much.
“But that’s because he’s always kissing Wonwoo and—” Hansol pauses and averts his eyes from Minghao’s face. Minghao does too, but only because Hansol did it first. “Anyways.”
The silence that follows is so awkward and thick. For ten seconds it’s like all the sounds around are deafening and Minghao is suspended in thin air.
“I’m sorry. For last night.”
“Yeah. I was worried you were going to ignore me forever after you left though.”
“I—I thought you would ignore me forever, so I guess I just went ahead and did before you could. I’m so fucking sorry for having kissed you while we were hanging at yours, just slacking off. We were in silence for too long and it made me think about how things are going to be different now we're graduating and will be off to see the world. And it’s so wide, Hansol! It’s so crazy out there that we won’t get to see each other as often and may drift apart! We’ll find new friends and other things to do. I just—I don’t know what has gotten into me, really.”
“Don’t tell me it was Angel 2 me,” Hansol says, eyes glued to his lap.
“What? No. What makes you think that?”
“That’s what we were listening at that moment.” He raises his head then, a lopsided smile twisting his lips in a dopey way. It’s essentially Hansol culture. “You’re so not romantic, Minghao.”
It’s Minghao’s time to put a finger on the matter. “It wasn’t supposed to be romantic. Is it?” he asks defensively.
“Only if you want to.”
“What are you even implying? Don’t you keep it to yourself. You’re confusing the fuck out of me, you idiot.”
“You said you only kissed me because you were afraid of losing me now it’s all done,” Hansol clucks his tongue repeatedly. “Which, may I tell you, if that’s the case, a hug would have sufficed. Did you find it a good technique to take your mind off the fact school has ended then? Since that’s the reason you kissed me. Because that’s definitely the only reason why you kissed me, right?”
Hansol teases him because he knows there’s something incredibly fishy about this entire situation, knows when Minghao’s posing and when he’s being real. Hansol sees right through and underneath him, because they’re always together, they're always synced.
“That’s not what I said—“ Minghao starts, even if he has no idea where his sentence is going, but gets cut off before he has to deal with this issue. That’s, however, when Hansol decides to brave it.
“I liked it,” he calmly counts, pulling his knees in against his chest to hug them tight, “you never asked me, and oh, I never took you for an egotistical lover before but… I liked it. That’s why I couldn't sleep because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop wondering what liking it as much as I did mean. In the end, I was so restless, I assumed that only coming for you so you could help me understand where we stand would cease it. Haven’t even changed my pajamas, as you can see.”
“Right.”
There’s a silent agreement between both of them to flop the weight of their bodies backward and lie down on the grass at this moment and they do it without putting much thought on it, both pillowing their heads with crossed hands and flexed humble biceps. Minghao heaves a heavy sigh, eyes drawn to the night sky.
“I wouldn't mind doing it again, but I wanted to know what this is… Is it nothing, is it something?”
“I didn’t kiss you only because of that–”
“Oh man, how surprising,” Hansol mocks him in a comical manner again. That’s twice a night. Usually, Minghao has great comebacks, but it seems that kissing Hansol has softened him.
“…And this you know, if your obvious teasing is any indication of it.”
Hansol shrugs as best as he can at this angle. “It got quite easier to find this out when I’m the only one you have kissed.”
“I still got time.”
“Ouch,” he says with a chuckle.
“Sometimes when I stop and think about what’s going on, I just think I’ll miss you the most and I don’t know whys that,” he confesses, “last night… I just felt this strong pull that told me to do it.”
Minghao shifts his head to take a look at Hansol’s profile to learn if he should go on. Not that he’ll stop now the entire thing is at the tip of his tongue.
“Do you know when you leave the house and you feel like you forgot something important that you’ll definitely miss throughout the day? So the hours go by and you still think something’s missing even if your day is fine, no idea what is causing this. You just have this strong inkling. When I thought that there’s a huge chance of me not seeing you as often when summer vacations are over, I felt it too. We were hanging together and doing our thing as usual, but in that minute I noticed that my life after vacay was the day and kissing you was the thing I’d forget at home and miss for the longest time.”
Hansol returns his soft gaze. “Hao, how do you like the kiss then?”
“I enjoyed it too. Could do it again. And again.”
“Right.”
Hansol shifts on his spot and rolls on his side to face Minghao properly. The latter then mimics him until their heads are considerably close, not enough to feel each other’s breathe fanning on their faces but getting there with time and unashamed of who’s watching. To any passerby, they may look like two friends, probably drunk and fooling around on the grass. At this moment, only Minghao and Hansol know that finding peace of mind in the front yard of house parties isn’t as unlike as expected.
“Do you think that's how everything started for Mingyu and Wonwoo?” Hansol questions with an amused grin.
His smile wields the power to take Minghao back to the first time he saw Hansol and how he thought the boy was only a loner stoner who preferred to be alone, weird with that streak of coolness. But at the end of the day, Hansol had done all the talking and his mind worked in such similar and vivid ways that Minghao still has a feeling that their first convo has never actually ended ‘till this day.
“I don’t know but their first kiss happened inside a locker whilst playing 7 minutes in heaven and now they have acquired this odd taste for being locked in small spaces together. Maybe this means that from now on we’ll kiss on the lawn at crappy parties,” he replies and blades of grass tickle his cheekbones. Heaven knows he wouldn’t complain about spending the following parties in this setting with Hansol, kissing the entire night.
“You’re a visionary, that’s why we work. Oh, I think I heard sirens.”
It’s mid-July, which gives them two months to sort themselves out before parting ways at least during the weekdays. Weekends can be theirs. Maybe this can work.
He hopes Hansol reads between the lines when he tells him, “We better hurry up then, asshole.”
“Copy that, dickhead,” Hansol bites back wiggling his thick, messy brows and scooting even closer.
Minghao hasn’t ever considered kissing underneath the moonlight but it seems like a good idea now, as his lips touch Hansol’s soft ones for the second time this week and his mind spins a tad because Hansol is such a superb kisser. Hansol wanted romance. It sounds romantic to him, after all.
Along with the sirens, the keening of kids that will be going home earlier grows louder. The frantic blue and red lights envelop the secluded street and tint their faces and clothes when the police car slowly turns around the corner to end the party. They’re not that important. In hell there’s heaven and they keep on kissing.
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