Work Text:
For the longest time, Minghao dreaded mornings. He was never that much of a morning person, his mother had to drag him out of bed as a child to get him to go to school. It only got worse when he moved away from home; to be alone in a different country was harsh. Mornings were cold and lonely, his apartment and unfamiliar despite being what he called his home.
Waking up in a cold bed was never something to look forward to, the blankets he had put on top of it doing little to nothing to warm his freezing body up. The sun would shine through the curtains and it was something he couldn’t even find beauty in. The sunrays meant waking up before his alarm went off, the start of another day of classes to attend or shifts to cover at work. He’d just bury his face in his pillow and pretend the outside world didn’t exist, and for a long time, it was all he knew.
But that was before Mingyu and Junhui.
*
It’s almost like his soul knew he would have two men sharing his bed with him every night before his mind and body did. The mattress he got on sale when he first moved in was too big for an affordable bed frame so it stayed on the floor, old magazines as makeshift nightstands. That hasn’t changed, except now Mingyu’s art books and Junhui’s comics have joined the magazines, and he can’t starfish on his bed lazily on weekends. Now, there are long limbs tangled with each other, giggles and whispers between the three of them as the world wakes up too, the sun rising in the sky.
For a couple of years, it was just him and Mingyu. They met in Communication Illustration class back in university, worked together for a few projects until Mingyu jokingly asked him on a date and Minghao accepted. The first date, instead of a complete disaster, was the start of something so beautiful. One date turned into two, into three, and before he knew it, Mingyu was moving in, a huge backpack on his back and an unopened bottle of wine in his hand.
Then came Junhui, first as a friend, then as a very close friend and then as something none of them could exactly describe. A threesome was always assured whenever they hung out together at night. But as night becomes day and ice turns back into water, Junhui fell for them and they fell for Junhui. The change was there but barely noticeable; it felt like the final piece of the puzzle Mingyu and Minghao had been trying to finish was finally there. They welcomed him with open arms and with another bottle of wine, and they fell into a routine they didn’t even realise they already had.
Whenever Minghao is the first to wake up and feels like it, he gets out of bed quietly, leaving Junhui and Mingyu there to cuddle, just the two of them. The floor creaks as he walks to the kitchen, his bare feet sticking a little to the boards, and he grabs some instant coffee. The years have made instant coffee the holy grail of lazy morning drinks and the slightly watered down taste of it doesn’t even bother him anymore.
Walking back to his – their, he keeps reminding himself – room, he notices the sun shining through the thin curtains to paint his lovers’ skins with the golden morning light. It’s a colour so beautiful to him nowadays and it’s a shame he can never quite manage to mix it with his paints. Maybe it’s better like this, some things are better off never reproduced in another medium that isn’t reality. They’re divine, and Minghao thinks that this is the closest he’ll get to heaven.
He gets to work, putting the mug down on a broken stool that Junhui stole from one of the art rooms at university. There’s another mug next to it which he fills with water for his brushes, an old thing Mingyu got him in a flea market and that Minghao wanted to make part of his process of creating art.
It’s another thing that has changed; the way everything in the apartment holds its own meaning nowadays, and how there are bits and pieces from each one of them sprinkled all over the house. They make it theirs, they turn it into their home.
The canvas in front of Minghao is uncovered, a half-finished masterpiece waiting for these special mornings to capture the essence of what Minghao feels when he looks at his boyfriends in the bed like this.
Junhui and Mingyu are his muses. Every so often things get so hard that even picking a brush up is a struggle for Minghao. There are times where he hates his heart, times where he hates himself, times where he hates his life, but the support and love he gets from his two boyfriends is so immense that he’ll pick up a pen and sketch them. He sketches their hands entwined, their bright smiles or their eyes, always so sparkly. He knows every curve and angle of their bodies, every imperfection and singularity; he knows their beauty marks like constellations by heart.
Sometimes, Minghao feels like he knows them better than he knows himself.
He paints and paints and paints until one of them wakes up, calling him to bed again so they can hold each other for a little longer before they have to face the world. Minghao always tries to fight it, he has a painting to finish after all, but nothing can possibly compare to being in their arms under the sheets of their bed. That, is home to him now.
So he goes back to bed, his feet and hands freezing now, but not for long. The bed is warm, mostly because of Mingyu and his capability as a human radiator, and he chases after that warmth, snuggling closer to him. Their sleeping arrangements change constantly depending on the mood when they go to bed but they tend to sleep with Mingyu in the middle more often, since he’s usually the last one to wake up. Minghao will reach over his sleeping body to brush his fingers against Junhui’s wrist, and Jun moves his hand so he can hold it over Mingyu.
Most mornings they just stay in bed until their alarms go off, touching each other and sometimes even going for a quick round (sometimes even two, Junhui is an absolute menace) before duty calls and they really have to get up. But even then, Minghao is happy, Minghao is content with the life he has.
Of course, there are still bad mornings where he feels like he’s alone all over again. But then hands are holding his, kisses are pressed to his head and food is brought to him and he just thinks that maybe, maybe he can get through that day. Just so he can come home to Junhui and Mingyu again.
Mornings used to scare Minghao but now, as he lays in bed, Mingyu’s soft breaths hitting his shoulder and Junhui humming a song sleepily, maybe they’re not so bad.