Work Text:
”Close your eyes and picture the sun,
That’s what it felt like to love her: warmth.”
- Atticus
”My darling, you can’t see it, can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then, there are those rare moments when you both are full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.” - Alexandria Drzewiecki
~ ☀︎☾ ~
I.
People have always been attracted to beautiful things.
Mingyu can attest to that—he was one of those people.
It happened one night at a dimly lit underground club when he went to support his friend’s band. He spent the night enjoying the music, unaware of the way his life was about to change as soon as he had first caught sight of a brunet who stood out in the middle of a sea of people.
Mingyu could tell he was smaller than him in height by a few inches and paler in complexion, but even if he only saw hints of the man’s face in the dark, never in his life had he been bewitched by someone he had never met.
They’d gone as far as share longing stares that moment, but the brunet’s smile had stolen the spotlight in Mingyu’s eyes, and became another reason to stay that night.
A few weeks later, Mingyu met the brunet once again outside of a bookshop just before it was about to close up for the night, watching as the rain poured heavily in front of him.
Mingyu had also been watching—only he wasn’t standing in the middle of the rain with drenched clothes.
It wasn’t every day that he’d meet someone this interesting, and considering that it had been their second encounter, a proper introduction would have been nice.
There was none, not even when the beautiful brunet had taken Mingyu’s hand in his, pulling him in so they could run through the rain together, acting as if they weren’t the strangers that they were.
The brunet still did not have a name, but he was charming, and honestly quite a cliché—he said people who thought the sunshine was pure happiness had never danced in the rain.
His touch said otherwise—it was just like the warmth of summer.
Mingyu didn’t think there would be a third time, until he found him sitting on a bench one day, alone. The possibility of the brunet forgetting him was high, but the hint of recognition suddenly reached his face as soon as he passed by him.
He couldn't help but think that maybe this was something more than just coincidence—Mingyu sitting next to him as though they had never met, sharing his bag of sour patch gummy worms and finally putting a name to the pretty face.
It felt as if Mingyu and Wonwoo had all the time in the world, engaging themselves in what they called the longest conversation of their lives, feeding each other with sugarcoated hands, knees somewhat bumping and shoulders touching slightly.
By the end of the night, Mingyu seemed to know everything about Jeon Wonwoo—his thoughts, his dreams, his secrets.
Mingyu came home with him sharing kisses under the moonlight from the bedroom window—bodies rolling and hearts colliding.
The last thing he remembered it was two in the morning and they were laughing way too hard. Mingyu caught a light in Wonwoo’s eyes. He was drawn to it, thinking that he would get lost in them if he inched just a little bit closer. Mingyu didn’t know what it meant at that moment—All he knew was he found himself already lost with him.
There was something unusual about them—The way they just fell into one another so naturally, and how it seemed as if stars would burst in their fingertips each time they touched. They were in tune.
Mingyu knew then, that maybe it was the universe planned for them.
This is how Mingyu fell in love with Wonwoo.
It’s another two years later when Wonwoo picks him up at the flower shop he works in.
Today is the first of November, when the snow falls grimly outside and the cold continues to bite into Mingyu’s skin, but Wonwoo has always had a warmth to his presence that made things worthwhile (if not better).
Wonwoo’s brought the warmth with him as he waits patiently for Mingyu to finish, his body relaxed against the doorway with a small fixating smile curved across his face.
People have always been attracted to beautiful things. Mingyu was one of those people, and here was Wonwoo, effortlessly beautiful all on his own.
It seemed as if the world loved Wonwoo too much for it, such as how he’s mesmerizing one of Mingyu’s loyal customers today, paying the utmost attention to his sunny presence instead of the flowers that he’d prepared. If anything, the flowers would have been left alone if the customer hadn’t paid for them.
It’s during these moments when Mingyu thinks there’s a fault to being beautiful.
He stares at the flowers inside his shop—beautiful but disregarded—asking himself if this is what it really feels like to be a daisy in a garden of roses.
*
When they come home to their apartment, shed their clothes and prepare to sleep through the remaining hours of the night, Wonwoo brings Mingyu close, whispering, ‘How could I have been so lucky?’ before kissing him goodnight and drifting into peaceful slumber.
He doesn’t know what to make of Wonwoo’s words. Was it an affirmation? An apology? Mingyu chooses to keep these questions to himself.
Hours pass and Mingyu loses sleep to the dreaming face in front of him, gazing at the moon as it peeks through the window and casts a glow to the outline of Wonwoo’s body. He listens to his steady breathing in the quiet of the bedroom, wondering who had really been the lucky one.
Mingyu meets Wonwoo’s eyes when he wakes at early morning. He’s half-awake, pulling a grin on his face that instantly lights up the whole room.
He doesn’t know what time it is, but it doesn’t take long for Wonwoo to make love to him, just before the sun comes up.
“Rise and shine,” Wonwoo whispers softly, lips smiling against his skin with his naked body curling around Mingyu’s. The way he says those words hold a certain kind of fondness that makes his heart swell.
Wonwoo was just like the sun, and Mingyu was waking up to his day.
But the day comes only to leave again.
By lunchtime Wonwoo finishes packing, placing a quick kiss to Mingyu’s cheek before walking out the apartment and running off to catch his flight to New York.
Flying overseas had been nothing out of the ordinary ever since Wonwoo’s modelling career began. He would leave for photo shoots, while Mingyu would take charge of the household chores, doing everything he can so that his other half will be able to return to a comfortable home.
Mingyu did nothing else but run to the flower shop and attend to a lonely weekend after that, wondering who Wonwoo was with and if he had eaten a decent meal, waiting for the day that he came back.
When Wonwoo did return he was always too tired for anything else, that the only thing Mingyu could let him do was sleepwalk to the bedroom each time and collapse on their shared bed next to him.
Save the stories for tomorrow , Mingyu would tell him, uncertain if there would be tomorrow when they didn't have today.
Mingyu thinks it’s still an accomplishment, that despite Wonwoo not knowing the incredible amount of things he did for him, Wonwoo would always come back to a home built for two.
*
Wonwoo informs Mingyu of his arrival three days later in the mid-afternoon with nothing else planned for the rest of the day.
Instead of heading straight home after work, Mingyu sends him a text saying he’d be running a little late. It’s only after that when he chooses to take a longer route to his apartment—a much needed walk to distract himself from all the disoriented thoughts he’s been having.
He makes it to the apartment after thirty minutes, meeting pitch black as soon as the door opens.
“Wonwoo?” he calls out from the darkness, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He moves cautiously to make sure he doesn’t break anything before placing the flower pot down on the dining table.
He realizes that the windows are open, then slowly makes out Wonwoo’s body walking steadily towards him from the bedroom in the dark, carrying what both looks like a lighter and a candle in his hands.
“Hey,” Wonwoo greets cheerily, kissing Mingyu on the cheek with a smile across his face. His eyes regard the pot and the heart-shaped flower planted there with a questioning look. “I’ve never seen this before.”
“Anthuriums are supposed to symbolize hospitality. I thought it would look perfect in our house.” Mingyu points to Wonwoo’s hands. “Power’s out?"
Wonwoo lights the candle and places it on the candle holder next to the pot. “One of the wires from the Lamppost snapped and cut off our building’s electricity. The generator didn’t last very long either, so it looks like we’ll be waiting a while.”
The younger man frowns. “That means I won’t be able to cook.”
“We’ll work something out,” Wonwoo says reassuringly. “In fact, I’ve already arranged a dinner by candlelight spent with exquisite chinese takeout and a very exquisite man. How does that sound?”
As much as Mingyu wants to dwell on how much of a hassle this is giving him, he can’t help but look back at Wonwoo and smile, with all his troubles disappearing for the meantime.
It’s been too long since he last saw Wonwoo under this light, looking more and more like the sun with the soft glow in his eyes.
If there is one thing Mingyu always misses about Wonwoo when he leaves, it’s the stories he takes home with him. He is a person who never runs out of stories, but who would if you’ve traveled the world and seen everything?
Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter; Mingyu will always be interested in what Wonwoo has to say. He makes sure to listen to every little tale—old or new. He’s even developed a habit of remembering the tiniest details of Wonwoo’s adventures, as if Mingyu had been there himself and was with Wonwoo during all those times.
These thoughts come to mind just as Wonwoo talks nonstop over dinner. He’s told at least one or two stories at this rate, but Mingyu hasn’t been paying attention this time—just continues to gaze at Wonwoo as if he were making up for lost time.
The worries start to creep in, but Mingyu tries not to think about them, and how it feels as if they’ve always been living on borrowed time.
They fall into a comfortable silence after dinner, bodies swaying into a slow dance under the moonlight at the tiny balcony of their shared apartment, music playing from Wonwoo’s bluetooth speaker.
“I can’t remember the last time we stayed like this,” Wonwoo says. His head is against Mingyu’s chest while his arms are wrapped around his neck, but that doesn’t stop him from sensing the tone of apology in his voice.
“I can,” Mingyu answers. “It was the day of your brother’s wedding.”
How could he forget? Mingyu had been planning to keep his habit of singing in the shower a secret for as long as he can, until the groom’s wedding singer had backed out at the last minute on his wedding day, leaving no choice but for Wonwoo to take charge and blow his boyfriend’s cover.
The music changes to a soft acoustic ballad, and Amy Winehouse’s voice reverberates across the room when she sings the first lines to Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
“I remember now,” Wonwoo recalls. “Wasn’t this the song you sang?”
It was, but what Mingyu remembered most about the wedding was the morning after the reception, and waking up with Wonwoo and a painful hangover inside a furniture store. They didn’t remember breaking in during the middle of the night, but was shown proof through the CCTV camera—playing house and slow dancing until they were knocked out cold on top of the store’s most expensive bed.
After peacemaking with the store’s manager, they silently drove away in Wonwoo’s pick-up—ten pounds heavier.
The bed stayed in Wonwoo’s pick-up for a week, until they decided to rent a shared space for its sake.
Home , was what they called it.
“Can I tell you something I’ve never told you before?” Wonwoo asks.
Mingyu only looks back at him, regarding him with a curious look.
“I’ve never told you this, but it was always a lovely thought to come home to you—bed or without. And it still is, Mingyu.”
Something in him breaks. Mingyu looks into his eyes filled with innocence and sincerity, wishing he can say the same and thinking how selfish it is of him that he can’t.
Mingyu wakes up to an empty bed a few hours later. He doesn’t know what time it is, but the bedroom is dark and he finds Wonwoo next to the window silently gazing outside.
Mingyu calls out to him, “Come back to bed, love.”
“I’ll be there,” Wonwoo answers quietly. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’ve just always wondered about the moon.”
Mingyu leaves the bed and approaches him, catching sight of the moon as it illuminates the silent night sky.
“What about the moon?” Mingyu asks when he stands next to him.
“The moon is beautiful isn’t it?” Wonwoo pauses, “Doesn’t the sun ever become jealous of the moon? I would be too.”
“And why is that?”
Wonwoo is deep in thought, eyes focused on the satellite.
“The moon seems to be just like us. Sometimes lonely—unsettled. When I realize how the moon is made up of these tiny imperfections, it makes me jealous because it knows exactly what it feels like to be human. It’s admirable, isn’t it? The moon knows how to be real, while all I’ve ever been taught is to be perfect.”
Mingyu doesn’t know what to say to Wonwoo.
He has always been jealous of the sun for shining on its own.
*
Mingyu feels a strong sense of change—in the weather, in Wonwoo, and maybe in himself. It must be the empty bed he’s woken up to that morning, or the empty apartment he’s been waking up to for the last week.
He stares outside from the window of the coffee shop, welcoming the warmth of the coffee mug closed around his hands with the company of a friend.
Jeonghan had just come back from his three-month vacation in London with his boyfriend, Jisoo, and had asked to see him the moment his plane landed.
It was nice to be in the same place with Jeonghan again after so long. E-mail conversations and third party messaging apps have been too limiting to their friendship.
“So, what have you been doing lately?” Jeonghan asks enthusiastically.
Mingyu continues to stare out the window when a bus passes by with Wonwoo’s latest advertisement— a high-class clothing brand—thinking how ironic it is that he seems to be everywhere but home.
Wonwoo has been busier than usual. His trips out of town were less, but Mingyu thinks it makes no difference when he’s fully booked for the country’s biggest fashion event of the year.
There are days when Wonwoo comes home but barely has time to talk. When he does have time, it’s as if he was in another dimension, delivering daily reports to Mingyu instead of just telling him how his day had been.
Moreover, Wonwoo has been exhausted and disconnected lately, but it’s an exciting time for him and Mingyu tries to take the weight of it all simply because he loves him.
“Waiting for summer,” Mingyu says nonchalantly without looking at him.
“And Wonwoo?” Jeonghan asks further after seeing the ad on the bus. “How is he?”
“He’s been…occupied. But it’s not like it’s unusual, right?”
Mingyu doesn’t need to say anything else for Jeonghan to understand; he catches onto things way too quickly.
“I see,” Jeonghan quips. “And do you want to tell me how you’re taking this?”
Mingyu faces Jeonghan with a smile that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes.
“He’s happy, so I should be.”
He should’ve known better, because Jeonghan doesn’t take the bait.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you’re happy,” Jeonghan asks, “or just really comfortable?”
“Jeonghan.”
“Cause it seems to me that you have a different understanding of what happiness is,” Jeonghan says. “Mingyu, sweetie, it doesn’t always work that way. Since when does your happiness become dependent on someone else?”
Mingyu says nothing, but maybe it’s because he just doesn’t know. All he knows is lately, he’s been coming to a home that’s not his own.
It hasn’t always felt this way, as if his world should only revolve around a single person, but most days he can’t remember the last time he did things for himself. He doesn't remember the last time he had been someone who isn’t an extension of Jeon Wonwoo .
Mingyu couldn't blame Wonwoo for not noticing, that in the last couple of weeks he’d been unaware of the vacant soul beside him, that each time Wonwoo shined the brightest, Mingyu was fading, drifting away into his shadow.
“I don’t see anything wrong in trying to support him.”
“I know,” Jeonghan says. “ I know . Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t support him. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t be happy for him, but your happiness is what matters, too. You’re a big dreamer, Mingyu. I know you love working at the flower shop, but how long are you going to wait before you do the things you want to do? How long are you going to pretend that this is the life that you want for yourself?”
Mingyu sighs and looks at Jeonghan with a face of defeat, knowing that somehow he was right.
He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s fallen deeply, madly into Wonwoo, without knowing how far he would go.
“I don’t know what I would do if I lose him, Jeonghan.”
“Which is why I’m here, keeping you grounded.” Jeonghan takes his hand in his as comfort. “You won’t lose him, Mingyu. And whatever happens, the sun will continue to be beautiful, and life will continue to move on whether you like it or not. Sometimes you just have to make your own sunshine.”
Mingyu thinks Wonwoo is like the sun—He is always chasing, always missing him.
*
Mingyu used to think that if Wonwoo had been appreciative of the things he’s done, he’d have put in as much effort in doing even the tiniest of tasks. But this isn’t the first time that Wonwoo forgets to pick up their clothes at the dry cleaners. They had long come to an agreement of taking turns when picking up the laundry, and this week happens to be his turn.
Mingyu didn’t think he’d still end up doing everything himself anyway.
They’ve had arguments like this before. They were just the little things, anyway. They could easily be resolved.
Wonwoo had apologized numerous times including today, but Mingyu doesn’t know if he means any of them anymore, or the words were just something he had gotten used to.
Things had taken a toll on Mingyu, and right now he’s starting to get tired of it. After all, it’s the little things that always mattered.
Mingyu has nothing else to wear, and if he’s going to have to run outside in nothing else but his pajamas just to get his clothes, he’ll do it. He takes a coat from the closet and walks out the bedroom, entering the kitchen where Wonwoo is sitting by the counter and spooning cereal into his mouth.
Wonwoo takes quick notice of it the moment Mingyu walks past him to fetch himself a glass of water, his coat a clear indication that he plans to head out.
“There’s a storm coming,” Wonwoo announces, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave at this time.”
Mingyu leans back against the fridge and takes a huge gulp from his glass, facing the sink as he leaves it on top right after. “I’ll take my chances,” Mingyu answers dryly.
“It’ll be dangerous, Gyu,” Wonwoo insists. “I won’t let you.”
You won’t let me do anything , is what Mingyu really wants to say, but he knows that it doesn’t exactly apply to Wonwoo.
“It’s not like I have a choice. I wouldn’t be forced to do this if you had picked up my laundry yesterday.”
“I said I was sorry,” Wonwoo frowns, a pang of guilt coming across his face. “It slipped my mind.”
Mingyu looks under the sink, wanting to prove just how careless Wonwoo has been.
“Apparently, a lot of things have slipped your mind,” Mingyu says, “like loading the dishwasher.”
He spots a white polo lying on the floor on the opposite side of the room, then walks over to pick it up and throws it over the rack. “And hanging your clothes,” he adds.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you today,” Wonwoo remarks, somewhat irritably, “but this isn’t like you.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been feeling very much like ‘me’ these days.”
Something catches Mingyu’s eye in the middle of their heated conversation. He walks towards the counter and stares at the bowl of fruits, taking one in his hand and raising it as if to show Wonwoo.
“What is this?” Mingyu asks.
“I stopped by the grocery the other day,” Wonwoo tells him blankly. “Thought you might want some oranges.”
Mingyu is livid, and might just be insane for getting angry over a piece of fruit.
But oranges are Wonwoo’s favorite. Mingyu likes mangoes.
He tries to take in the gravity of things—The leaving, the waiting, the forgetting.
Without a second thought, he clenches the orange in his hand and throws it across the room, watching it smash into the wall and dripping juice pulps onto the floor. The sudden movement alarms Wonwoo, causing him to stand abruptly.
“Mingyu!”
“You’re so stupid, Wonwoo!” Mingyu snaps, “That’s the problem with you—I clean up after your shit each time, but you can’t even do a single thing for me as simple as taking out the trash! You say you care but you don’t bother asking what fruit I want. I don’t even think you give a fuck if I hated oranges! You’d buy them anyway because you know I wouldn’t have much of a choice!
“Mingyu, I—”
“You’re fucking horrible,” Mingyu tells him. “Maybe we’ll always just be a ‘slip of the mind’ , won’t we?”
Mingyu walks out the door before Wonwoo can convince him to stay.
The scariest thing about distance is not knowing whether you’re missed or forgotten.
When days pass slowly in front of Mingyu’s eyes and leave him wide awake in bed at night, he starts to feel like it’s the latter.
It’s been a week since Wonwoo has come home, and a week since he’s been waiting to hear the door open. When it finally does, he closes his eyes and turns away to roll over to one side, pretending to be asleep while Wonwoo quietly enters the bedroom.
What comes next is another series of sounds drawing close—feet shuffling and clothes wrinkling. The bed depresses, and Mingyu feels a weight drop carefully as if Wonwoo’s trying not to wake him.
Wonwoo settles down, and the air becomes static for a few seconds.
Seconds turn into minutes, and the quiet becomes maddening—painful more than peaceful—until a hand reaches for his arm.
It’s warm and welcoming, and it almost feels like home again.
“Please don’t hate me,” Wonwoo utters softly, pleading.
It’s the first thing he says after Mingyu’s previous meltdown the other day, and it brings tears to his eyes, wondering how on earth they had come to this point.
Mingyu remembers the predicted weather forecast that day and how sometimes it’s best not to rely on the news. In the end, there was no storm, except for the one that’s still brewing in his chest.
Mingyu wants to give in, give in to Wonwoo’s words again and fall apart, but a part of Mingyu has frozen so badly that not even the sun, and not even Wonwoo’s warmth, can melt it. His hand slips away, and by the time Mingyu hears Wonwoo’s breathing steady, he realizes that distance has never been about being miles apart from Wonwoo to feel far away from him.
Distance has become the space between their shared bed.
*
Another morning breaks, and Mingyu wakes earlier than usual.
He lifts himself up from the bed while Wonwoo continues to sleep soundly. He catches a glimpse of the serenity in his face that wipes out any hint of the restlessness present before, then grabs his phone from the desk and makes his way to the kitchen to make himself coffee.
There’s a strange, unexplainable feeling that rises in Mingyu’s chest. It stays with him as he drinks his coffee sitting by the marble counter, taking quick sips as he tries to figure out the troubling feeling that won’t go away, almost eating him up from the inside.
As if on cue, his phone vibrates.
He doesn’t think anything about it, but quickly takes his phone from the countertop and swipes to check a notification tweet from one of the online news portals that he follows.
The browser from his phone opens with big bold letters appearing in front of his eyes, and he almost drops the mug in his hand when he reads them.
Once in a while, Mingyu would look up the entertainment news purely for amusement. He doesn’t understand the pleasure people take from peeking into other people’s private lives but goes along with it every now and then. People will believe what they want to believe anyway.
He thinks it’s all fun and games, until today’s gossip involves a female model and his partner. Blood drains from his face as he continues to read the article with photos surfacing the bottom of the page.
The angles are made to look as if the two figures were leaning in for a kiss, but because Mingyu knows a thing or two about photography, he’s more than unconvinced.
He finds the article almost laughable, how people will be stupid enough to believe it.
But then again, people will believe what they want to believe, and Mingyu can only hold on to the infinite possibilities of the news being nothing but true.
Mingyu tenses at the sound of another voice in the room.
“Why are you up so early?”
He doesn’t want to see Wonwoo’s innocent eyes, he doesn’t even dare to look back at his glowing face.
Wonwoo should never know about the things written about him. He’s a sensitive person, and it was the only thing Mingyu could do now to protect him, even if he hurts himself in the process.
Wonwoo approaches Mingyu, and just when he’s close enough to bring his lips to his, he quickly avoids it and moves away, bringing his phone and mug as he walks over to the kitchen sink.
“Are you hungry?” Mingyu tries to ask casually, but fails with the way his voice trembles over the sound of water as he cleans his mug. He tries again by asking, “What do you want for breakfast? I’ll cook you something.”
He doesn’t register the arms that suddenly sneak around his waist and the chin resting on top of his shoulder. He freezes at the touch, stays immobile from his actions because it’s been so long, so long since he’s felt so wanted.
Yet he can’t find it in himself to reciprocate—not after the article he’s seen, not after everything else.
Mingyu realizes he’s been scrubbing the mug with too much soap when it slips from his fingers and drops noisily to the sink, making him jump and a curse slipping off his lips.
“Are you okay?” Wonwoo raises his head in concern, but Mingyu wriggles out from his arms and busies himself to look for the pans.
“How about some eggs and bacon, huh?” Mingyu asks loudly over the nipping thoughts in his head and the pain throbbing in his chest. He takes the pan from the cabinet and sets it down on the cooker. “Is that okay?”
“Mingyu.”
“I guess that will do—“
“Mingyu,” Wonwoo calls out insistently.
“Let me just—“
He’s about to turn away when Wonwoo grabs his hand. He tries to yank it away, but Wonwoo is strong, and continues to hold on to his shaky hand. He doesn’t know why he feels this plethora of emotions—anger, sadness, and fear—taking over him as if he were about to burst at any moment.
“Mingyu,” Wonwoo speaks with a certain edge to his voice, holding his phone in one hand and its screen left on the browser where the article stays. “Did you read this?”
Mingyu’s face falters, knowing that there is no use in running away from the things that are scaring him.
“Don’t tell me you actually believe this? That you would believe everyone else but me?”
He pulls his hand away from Wonwoo, keeping it close to him while he solemnly looks at the other.
“I didn’t think it would still matter,” Mingyu murmurs quietly, “what I believed.”
“Of course it does, Mingyu! But do you realize how pathetic it is to think that whatever is in this stupid article is true?”
“And how?!” Mingyu snaps, “How is it pathetic, Wonwoo?! What do you want me to expect when I come home everyday to this apartment while you’re out there in your beautiful world, with all those beautiful people! At least give me that much credit. You can’t tell me it’s pathetic just because you can’t see how people see you!”
“And what about you?” Wonwoo counters, “Can you say the same? Because believe it or not, I only see you!”
“This is ridiculous,” Mingyu says dismissively. “This isn’t going anywhere.”
“You know what’s ridiculous?” Wonwoo asks incredulously. “That even if I tell you now that there is nothing going on between me and that model, you would still see what you want to see. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to believe that I only love you!”
“Because you make it hard!” Mingyu doesn’t believe the words that had come out from his mouth.
Wonwoo stands still—confused.
“I really want to believe you, Wonwoo,” he continues. “But you make it so hard for me. And I love you more than you can imagine…”
Wonwoo’s face changes to a more hurt expression.
“But sometimes, even that’s difficult for me to do.”
Mingyu doesn’t fight the tears that fall from his face and prickle his skin like fire, allowing his defences to break apart and crumble slowly.
“What do you want me to do, then?” Wonwoo asks, almost desperately, “I’d do anything. I’d kiss you in the middle of the street, if that’s what you want—
“That’s not the point—”
“Then be honest with me, Mingyu! Stop keeping me in the dark, and just tell me what you want!”
I want you. And me. And the stupid bed again , Mingyu thinks.
I want you back, and the part of me that you’ve taken with you .
Mingyu looks into Wonwoo’s jaded eyes. They were blue, so blue he knew he’d drown in them. But not this time, because Wonwoo is looking back at him and he thinks… this is when everything clicks . His insecurities have projected into a being of its own, into the person he loved. He could see himself in Wonwoo. He had become him.
But there are days when he’d look at Wonwoo and not feel anything. Love, anger, sadness—none of those things. His heart just.. forgot.
All this time, Mingyu hadn’t been looking at Wonwoo. He was looking at himself.
Mingyu remembers he’d come across the story of a greek myth—Icarus with wings made of feathers and wax—and was warned not to fly too close to the sun. But Mingyu loved Wonwoo as much as he loved the sun, that he lost himself somewhere in between and didn’t mind being burnt.
Maybe burning for someone was also meeting himself in the process.
“All I wanted in this life was for you to shine, Wonwoo. I always try to convince myself that I’m doing everything I can to make sure you don’t walk out the door and never come home, even if it means putting you above everything else.”
Wonwoo continues to look at Mingyu in confusion, but his eyes brim with tears and it hurts Mingyu more than the words he wants to say.
“When did you know?” Wonwoo suddenly asks.
The question disrupts Mingyu’s thoughts. “Know what?”
“When did you know, Mingyu?” Wonwoo calls softly, a sad smile donning on his trembling lips, “that you’ve fallen out of love with me?”
Mingyu has never seen him so devastated, and yet here is Wonwoo, with his bright smile and sunheart, now broken and vulnerable in front of him.
He doesn’t know why he didn’t love him like he used to. He was so , so beautiful. He just didn’t know.
Mingyu doesn’t respond for some time, but Wonwoo takes it as an answer, crying so hard his knees drop to the floor. Mingyu kneels in front of him and watches helplessly as Wonwoo sobs into his hands.
“I should have known all this time,” Wonwoo mumbles quietly, but loud enough for Mingyu to hear, “that being with you would hurt this much.”
“That’s... That’s not true—“
“Oh but it is, isn’t it?” Wonwoo asks, looking up at him miserably, “Loving me only means losing you.”
Mingyu wishes he could take back his words, take everything back just to see the light that used to be in Wonwoo’s eyes.
They can only hold each other on the cold floor as the rain falls, unaware of how even the sky cries too.
*
What happens now ? Wonwoo asks Mingyu one night.
They lie together in the darkness of the bedroom, and Mingyu chooses to break the silence, asking Wonwoo what he means by that.
“Where do we go from here?” Wonwoo asks, “I mean, I know I’m not going anywhere.”
The room is dark, but Mingyu can see Wonwoo’s glossy eyes gazing at the moon from out the window, just like last time.
“But if you think what you need right now is out there…” Mingyu sits up straight and turns back to look at Wonwoo, taken aback by his words.
“Are you asking me to leave?” Mingyu asks in confusion.
“I’m not asking you to do anything.”
“Then what exactly are you saying, Wonwoo?”
Wonwoo’s face softens as he looks at him with a smile barely reaching his eyes.
“I’m saying I love you, and that you could be happy without me.”
Mingyu’s face changes. He’s not sure if what he heard was right, but his eyes begin to moist and his chest constricts, overwhelmed by the mixed emotions that quickly take over him and the thoughts that fill his mind.
“No,” Mingyu rejects. “I’m not going anywhere, Wonwoo. I want to be with you.”
“And I want to be with you,” Wonwoo reassures Mingyu, taking his hand in his before he continues. “Just not like this, not when I see you hurting because of me.”
“It’s not your fault,” Mingyu pleads. “If this is because of what happened the other day, then don’t start because I’m not planning on leaving you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know,” Wonwoo says, “and because I’m grateful for all the sacrifices you’ve done for me, giving you back to the world is mine.”
Mingyu is at a loss for words, not knowing what else to say. He can only look away from Wonwoo’s face and down at their hands, realizing his own defeat as he tries to process the words left hanging in the air between them.
Wonwoo is the only home Mingyu knows. He hates the thought of leaving, but these past few days have been the beginning of a fallout, and hearing Wonwoo cry every night consumed by the guilt caused by his own selfishness—Mingyu hates that thought more.
“I shouldn’t have said those things.” He says, “I knew that if I told you, we’d end up like this. You don’t know how many times I’ve contemplated and asked myself, ‘If I told you about my dark thoughts, would he still look at me the same way?’ ”
“Come here.”
Mingyu lies closer to his side as he’s pulled against him and into his comforting embrace. Wonwoo pulls back for a moment to reach out and cup his face, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks with his thumb and kissing both of Mingyu’s eyelids to stop him from crying.
“I’ve always looked at you the same, Mingyu.” Wonwoo tells him quietly.
Mingyu runs his hand along the length of Wonwoo’s arm and over the warmth of his skin.
Wonwoo tilts his chin up and brings his lips to his— short and gentle—pulling away before Mingyu can kiss him back to whisper in his ear.
“You’ve always been the sun.”
Wonwoo claims his lips again, and again, with each kiss turning more persistent and leaving Mingyu breathless. He brings his lips to Mingyu’s one more time before pulling away, with just enough space for their foreheads to align.
“You’re too good to me, Wonwoo,” Mingyu breathes heavily. “But we’re going to ruin each other.”
Their lips barely touch, but it makes Mingyu’s blood run hot in his veins because right now Wonwoo is all he wants.
“I don’t care,” Wonwoo says softly, “Let’s forget about the consequences. Just this once. We can have the stars tonight.”
It’s a wonder how their hands and lips still know their way around each other, have memorised every inch of their bodies so perfectly that even in the dark, they could still manage to find all their weakest spots and fill them with desire.
They make love under the moonlight, and every movement is magnified—from the way Wonwoo holds Mingyu tight to the way his body moves slowly and leisurely against his own—living this moment as if it was their last.
In that same moment when Wonwoo is asleep, Mingyu realizes how much they have become like the moon. They were two sides of it, both flawed with imperfections but real.
And maybe all along they were missing pieces, and it was never enough to complete each other.
*
It takes Mingyu a week to prepare, although there wasn’t much for him to pack except his clothes, plants, and a wooden crate which had been piled up in boxes with all his other stuff, while the rest of the things he shared with Wonwoo stays in the apartment—he had to think twice about taking the only toothbrush in the bathroom, but chose to let Wonwoo keep it.
Wonwoo decides to take a break during the week, declining every job offer given to him. He tells Mingyu that he needs some time off, but Mingyu thinks it’s only because Wonwoo wants to help him pack, and is perhaps stalling for more time—as if Mingyu himself isn’t doing the same.
The weekend before Mingyu’s departure, they decide to call all of their closest friends and invite them over for an intimate parting celebration.
Upon hearing the news, some friends have shared their sincere congratulatory greetings, while some have expressed their deepest sympathies. Mingyu and Wonwoo expected mixed feelings, but they assured their friends it wasn’t anything to worry about. Why mourn over a separation when it could be celebrated as the start of something new?
It’ll be good , Wonwoo assures Mingyu. It’ll be good. We’re good .
Soon, their humble abode is filled with overflowing drinks and friends for keeps. There is dancing and rejoicing, small talks and smoking in the balcony. They gather in the living room and hold a small ceremony, where one of Mingyu and Wonwoo’s hands are tied together in a red string while they use their free hands to cut the bond with scissors.
To end the night, they are forced to sit on their couch as Jihoon, a friend of Wonwoo, plays a video montage of their memories together prepared by all of his friends. It was exactly like how Mingyu envisioned his relationship with Wonwoo in his head. It played just like a supercut.
Mingyu glances at Wonwoo, but he’s already looking back at him. A rush of images flood his mind—what they used to be, what they were going to be, and the reality of who they are now. Mingyu thinks how one day he will go back to the supercut of their hello and goodbye, and all he will remember between them is the love, so much love.
Jeonghan arrives one afternoon a few days later, with Jisoo tagging along to help carry his boxes and transfer them to his van. Jeonghan volunteered to take Mingyu in, joking about how he’d trade living alone with having his own personal chef anytime.
When Jisoo takes the last box in his hands, Jeonghan turns to Mingyu, glancing at Wonwoo for a while before looking back at his best friend to speak.
“We’ll wait for you downstairs,” Jeonghan smiles reassuringly. He understands the gravity of the situation, so he walks out the door and leaves Mingyu and Wonwoo standing in the middle of the apartment with a silence that’s indescribable for a moment like this.
Wonwoo breaks first.
“This is actually harder than I thought it would be,” he admits.
Mingyu pacifies the mood. “I didn’t think it would hurt as much as for the person leaving.”
“It doesn’t,” Wonwoo replies, “Because when you’re watching the person you love walk out the door, it only hurts so much more.”
Things were always brighter when Wonwoo was around, with eyes so alive and being so full of color. Today, Mingyu can only see the emptiness in his eyes.
They both prepared for this to happen. They both prepared for the heartbreak, yet here they are, still wondering what they could have done to make things work.
The thought of leaving had been impossible to Mingyu, but the only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying.
If there is anything that Mingyu regrets, it’s how it has to end this way—how they couldn’t leave one another without scars. The way it seemed as if all they’ve ever been was wasted time. Mingyu just wants to slip quietly out the back door without breaking anything or damaging anyone. He just wanted to run and never look back.
Maybe he isn’t ready for this, and neither is Wonwoo.
But one thing he learned is this: even if you think you’re meant to be with someone, that doesn’t necessarily mean you get to be with them.
And before any of them can change their minds, Mingyu turns away and starts walking to the door, with Wonwoo following quietly behind him.
By the time Mingyu reaches for the knob, his chest starts to ache.
He breathes slowly as the air thickens around him, and just as he’s about to twist the knob to open the door, a hand covers his own. Wonwoo leans his head against the back of Mingyu’s neck with an arm wrapped around his body, hugging him as if he didn’t want to let go.
Mingyu suddenly feels something warm and wet land on his nape, and hears Wonwoo crying faintly behind him.
He’s thankful Wonwoo couldn’t see him right now, but that doesn’t stop the tears that fall from his own face.
He lets go of the knob to take Wonwoo’s hand in his, keeping it close as he gently presses his lips to his fingers to calm him, while his other hand places itself over the arm around his waist.
The crying stops after some time, and they are stuck with the silence once again, allowing this moment of peace to drag on longer than it should.
Mingyu isn’t going to say goodbye, so Wonwoo lets him walk out the door without looking back, keeping Wonwoo’s face and their promise etched into his memory.
Remember the last time I said I loved you? I didn’t say it to hear it back. I said it because I wanted to make sure you knew. So don’t say anything else. Let me live a life where it’s still possible that you love me the way I love you.
You find you, Mingyu, and come home to me when you do.
They’re far from their destination, but Mingyu asks Jisoo to pull over at the side of the bridge. When the van comes to a full stop, he quickly gets down from the vehicle and spots the sun that’s just about to set.
Jeonghan stands next to him with Jisoo by his side and his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder, while Mingyu watches the sun paint the blue sky with a delicate shade of pink, looking back on the days and hours of missed chances and wishful thinking. He feels a bit too sentimental, asking himself how crazy it is that he might not ever experience this same moment in his life ever again.
It’s terrifying to step out of your comfort zone and step into something different, but it isn’t always a bad thing to try to change—to become the person you want to be and figuring out who that is.
They continue to watch the sun drown in the horizon until Mingyu is reminded of a dark haired man with a warm and bright smile, thinking that if sunsets can make beautiful endings, then he can’t wait to wake up to new beginnings.
II.A
It’s crying season—when love leaves and Mingyu handles melancholy recklessly.
He wears heartbreak on his sleeve. Heartbreak to Mingyu is staring at ceilings at 2 A.M and crying in the shower. It’s a gaping hole in his chest. It’s smoking cigarettes he doesn’t want, and falling asleep drunk, screaming at love.
Jeonghan tells him to cry it out. Cry it all out now, so moving on would be faster.
Mingyu can’t feel it yet. He still misses the sun.
But that’s the thing about missing someone—the moment you do, you know they’re already gone. And Mingyu is alone, just like he wanted.
Mingyu thought art was something untouchable—he’d seen it ever since he was little, hanging on walls or situated inside museums; he’d seen it outside written in narrow alleyways and underground subway stations.
He thought art was in most things—in books, in music, and in films. He would even see it in people—in the way they dress themselves, and in the way their bodies move.
When Mingyu wasn’t busy at the flower boutique, he would visit Jeonghan’s workshop and watch him paint all day and help him prepare for his contemporary art show.
Before you know it, you’ll come back to earth and show people how brilliant you are too, Jeonghan assures him.
One day, Mingyu finds a box he hadn’t finished unpacking since he moved to Jeonghan’s house. When he opens this, he finds a crate of notebooks--The newest one from the pile being a brown leather notebook, pages of his silly poetry written in messy handwriting. Looking back on the pages makes him smile a little. He doesn’t think he remembers the last time he’d written something.
Mingyu carries the crate of notebooks back to his room, grabs a pen, and that’s all it takes for him to create his own art.
As the sun rises, he finds himself again.
II.B
Universe
a collection of poems and prose by
Kim Mingyu
Encounters
I don’t believe in love at first sight. or a second one, not even a third.
But seeing you across the room, that was the time in my life when I thought I’d known you forever.
- K.MG
Cosmogyral
We looked up at the night sky, and you asked me if I believed in parallel universes.
“Yes I do,” I answered, distracted by the stars in your eyes.
- K.MG
Falling Season
You were just like autumn,
and I would fall each time.
- K.MG
Love
Why must we go through so much pain to understand our worth?
- K.MG
Lacuna
I looked at my life like a vast blank grey canvas.
That was when I knew I could do anything I wanted.
- K.MG
Icarus
When Icarus fell,
His wings floated in the sky and
Death kissed his burning shoulders.
Is there anything more beautiful than setting the world on fire and the sun painting shades of gold?
- K.MG
EPILOGUE:
Mingyu used to think that art is something untouchable, but now, it is something he created.
He would have never seen it coming, but in just the span of a year, he’d been given unbelievable opportunities. Not only is he able to showcase his poems in Jeonghan’s art show, he has also become one of his performance artists.
Spectators take their rounds inside the museum to see the art. The Art Is Present is a 7-hour and 30-minute silent piece, in which Mingyu sits immobile inside the atrium, while guests are invited to sit across him.
Mingyu thinks it’s been at least more than six hours. He continues to sit inside a rectangle drawn with tape on the floor. Theater lights shine on him sitting on a chair while another chair and a table are situated opposite him. Visitors waiting in line are asked to sit on the chair and maintain eye contact, motionless, and in silence. The piece is inspired by the belief that stretching the length of a performance beyond expectations proves to break the illusion of time and foster a deeper connection in the experience.
The results were surprising even for Mingyu. Most visitors sat with Mingyu for five minutes or less, yet several people have broken down in tears. He gazed in the eyes of many people and could immediately see and feel the pain in their eyes. It was as if he became a mirror for them of their own emotions. He thinks it’s amazing how people can hide their hurt so well, no one would be able to tell if you just passed them by.
Time seems to move fast for Mingyu, but the performance takes on a momentum of its own.
On the last hour, when the queue is several twenty strong, a man steps into the light and takes a seat in front of Mingyu. The minute that their eyes meet, it takes all of Mingyu’s willpower not to slide off the chair and run towards the surprise stranger, thinking of nothing else but wanting to take him into his arms.
Wonwoo’s hair is longer than it’s ever been. He looks even more beautiful than the day he left him. He holds back a smile.
And God, Mingyu loved his eyes. They still held the entire ocean. He could still read them.
When Wonwoo was sad, his eyes turned into ice. When he was angry, they could burn a hole into your heart.
The day Mingyu left, they were a mixture of both. His once starry eyes created a supermassive black hollow that swallowed him whole.
And as Mingyu looks into Wonwoo’s eyes, he doesn’t find traces of a storm anymore, not even of himself. The stars came back.
They look at each other for the first time after a year. Just like back then, there is still so much love in a glance.
Wonwoo smiles.
And Mingyu, just like all the other times, smiles right back.
There are two things that Mingyu is sure of:
i. The sun will always fall for the moon
ii. Mingyu will always fall for Wonwoo
The sun and the moon continue to lead two different lives—bringing warmth throughout the day and illuminating the night.
They would always chase each other, and most times even miss one another.
But once in a while they catch up. They meet, and when they come together, oh, when they do, it will be nothing short of magnificent.
~ ☀︎☾ ~