Archive of Our Own ^beta

Some things are destined to be — it just takes a couple of tries to get there.
J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

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ZERO: DECEMBER 2024

Seungmin wonders. Sometimes, he finds himself entangled in a spiral of ceaseless thoughts as he lays down on his bedsheets and stares up at the beige ceiling. Sometimes, he wonders about what to eat. Other times, he wonders about the world, and its vastness, and everything else it holds.

When he awakes this morning, his eyelids are coated with lethargy. Groaning, he reaches his fists up to rub away at them. The dream that had played in his mind begins to fade away, scene by scene by scene, but the lingering warmth blossoms under his chest in full bloom.

There’s nothing particularly interesting about the dream, per se, but Seungmin had managed to feel something. The blurry outline of a man, the flickering of a hand wrapped around his wrist, the heat of a kiss on the nape of his neck — Seungmin brushes the thoughts away with a rub against his cheek.

It’s been three months. Seungmin knows better than to tarry along with these meaningless memories.

However, when he struggles to sit up, his hand knocks against the plushie toy smushed against his arm. Startled, Seungmin blinks down at the puppy gazing back up at him. And when he does that, his eyes flicker down to the bracelet dangling from his wrist. Up to the surfboard propped against his wall. Down to the silvery stone on his bedside table.

An overwhelming mound of emotions begins to grow underneath his skin, and it takes a considerable amount of time for Seungmin to tamper down the frustration and anguish. Sure, it’s been three months, and Seungmin knows better than to tarry along with these meaningless memories,

But how can he when all the little fragments of his yesterdays are left scattered in his life?

Seungmin tilts his head upwards and peers at the beige ceiling. He wonders about meaningless memories, and fate, and destiny, and quite possibly, love.

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ONE: MAY 2024

I don’t know you yet
I’ve pictured you before
You might be different
But I won’t worry if I don’t recognise you

The first time he met Lee Minho, he hadn’t known what to expect.

As the afternoon rays glazed through the glass windows, they cast long shadows against the coffee cup on the mahogany wood tabletop. With his eyes trained on his laptop, Seungmin retrieved his cup and took a sip of his Americano.

Despite the calming atmosphere of the cafe, Seungmin felt anything but composed. Assignments piled upon his shoulders, and he’d been bending his back backwards trying to meet endless deadlines, all the while slaving over his books for the mock final next week. The woeful ivy branches of his academic life had him rooted to the floor, and it took every fibre in his body not to face-plant onto his keyboard at that moment in time.

He barely registered the bitter taste of coffee on his tongue, nor the sound of the silver bells over the door tinkling loudly in the cafe. It was only when he felt his cup plucked right out of his hand did he glance up in shock.

“Yah, what the hell are you-” Seungmin paused. The man standing before him held Seungmin’s coffee cup in one hand, wearing a preen smirk proudly on his face. Without a word of warning, the man tilted his head back and drew a long swig from his coffee.

When he lowered the cup, the stranger grimaced and pulled a ridiculous face. “That was disgusting,” the man winced. He placed the cup back down onto the tabletop and slid into the seat directly opposite Seungmin. To say the latter was flabbergasted would be a severe understatement. “Can’t believe you even drink something as bitter as that.”

Seungmin blinked. “Am I supposed to know you?” he shot, half-aggravated, half-puzzled.

“Maybe, maybe not,” the stranger shrugged. His eyes landed on the plate next to Seungmin’s laptop. “Ooh, is that an egg-and-bacon sandwich? I heard it’s the signature dish here.”

The thoughts swirling in Seungmin’s head flared up into a hurricane. “What- I mean, I think so-” In a frenzy, he fumbles over his words. “-T-that’s not the point here! The point is that you, a random stranger from nowhere, just walked up to me and stole my coffee right in front of my eyes.”

“It’s not stealing if I return it, no?” the man commented. A triumphant grin tugged on his lips. And whilst Seungmin was infuriated, he couldn’t help but realise that the sunlight was striking the man’s face at just the right angle — the light accentuated the strong slope of his nose, the curved eyes, the high cheekbones and silver earrings.

For some reason or another, Seungmin felt a shiver slither down his spine. “It is,” Seungmin huffed, trying hard to maintain his demeanour. “And I don’t even know you.”

The man cocked his head sideways and gazed at Seungmin, as if carefully analysing a lab specimen. “You don’t,” he confirmed. His grin seemed to widen. “The name’s Lee Minho. You?”

“Kim Seungmin, but that’s not the-” He watched on in horror as Minho slid the plate closer to him and snatched the sandwich right off of the ceramic. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying it?” Minho chuckled. “May I?”

“Oh, wow, so now you choose to ask first?” Seungmin deadpanned. “Look, I don’t know who you are, Lee Minho, but you don’t just prance into a cafe and steal someone’s snack. And I should add that I paid for my food-”

“-I take that as a yes, then,” Minho chirped. He offered Seungmin a wink before promptly taking a bite of the sandwich — a huge one at that. Seungmin was sure half his sandwich was now missing from its plate. “Hm. Could use a bit more salt. Or pepper. I can’t tell the difference.”

When Seungmin had packed his satchel bag this morning for a study session in his favourite cafe, he had not been expecting some good-looking, good-for-nothing stranger to sashay right up to him and shatter his peace and quiet. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You’re disturbing me.”

“Maybe I am,” Minho replied cryptically. He leaned across the table, resting on his elbows, and smiled sweetly at Seungmin. “We both know you need a distraction, anyways.”

Something twisted in Seungmin’s gut. “How would you know that, then?”

The grin on his face simmered into a soft smile. It looked nice on him, gracious even. Too angelic for the face of someone who’d just wolfed down half of Seungmin’s snack. “I saw you through the window, all hunched over your laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard, whatever you were doing. I swear I could hear you typing, even through the glass.”

“Were you stalking me?” Seungmin blurted.

“Me? Never,” Minho quipped. “I always look through the windows, y’know, a little window shopping here and there.”

Seungmin frowned. “This is a cafe.”

“That sells ground coffee,” Minho pointed out. To emphasise his point, he gestured towards the chalked words on the blackboard mounted on the brick wall: Ground Coffee 50% Off! “A man needs to quench his thirst.”

“You don’t like coffee.”

“Not the bitter kind, at least,” Minho chuckled. His laughter was thrilling, and weirdly addictive to listen to. “Come on now. No excuses, let’s go.”

“What-” An embarrassing squeak bubbled from his throat as he watched Minho stuff his mouth full with the last of the sandwich, dust the crumbs off with a slap of his hands and close Seungmin’s laptop shut. “-Wait, where are we going? What makes you think I’m going to follow you?”

Surprised, Minho glimpsed back at Seungmin. The dark pools of his irises seemed to hold a promising story of some kind, beckoning Seungmin to dive in and wade around, even for a short while. It was strangely alluring, mysterious even, and all it took was Minho to smile and say, “I don’t know, Seungmin-ah. We’ll go where life takes us.”

And Seungmin was off, coffee abandoned, heart dripping from his sleeve.

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With the warm spring weather that afternoon, Seungmin couldn’t put a finger on Minho’s outfit. At all. The man was decked out in a cream button-down shirt and pressed slacks under a checkered blazer. His hair was styled professionally, several strands brushing against his forehead and completing his look.

Seungmin didn’t understand the other at all. Wasn’t it hot underneath all those layers?

As they began to stroll down the cobblestone pavement, Minho bumped his shoulder against Seungmin’s playfully. “Isn’t this more exciting than sitting around in a cafe doing nothing?”

“Technically, I was finishing my essay.”

“Oh, you’re a student?” Minho trilled. “That should make me older than you.”

Seungmin narrowed his eyes. “I’m twenty-five,” he retorted.

The smug grin returned to Minho’s face. “Twenty-seven,” he singsonged.

Sighing, Seungmin teared his gaze away from Minho’s face and instead scanned the streets. Vehicles whizzed past them in blazing streaks. Office workers and couples milled up and down the pavement, and the both of them navigated their way through the sea of people. “Where are you taking me? You’re not a murderer, are you?”

Minho snorted. “Let’s say I was a murderer. What would be the point in killing you in broad daylight?”

“Money?” Seungmin said weakly.

“Yeah, right,” Minho laughed. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks and hummed under his breath. “How about you tell me your story, and then I tell you mine?”

Confused, Seungmin wrinkled his nose. “And pray tell me, dearest hyung-”

“-Hey, I like the sound of that-”

“-Why would I wish to overshare about my life to a stranger?” Seungmin finished. “You know what? I take back my answer. I’m just going to catch a bus home and pretend I never met you before.”

When he didn’t, though, Minho cackled. “Coward.”

“I’m not.”

“So are.”

“Am not.”

“You’re blushing, Seungminnie,” Minho teased. “Come on. Isn’t this exhilarating for you? Taking a breather from your boring life? Getting out there and smelling the roses?”

“I’m allergic to pollen,” Seungmin sniffled.

Minho pursed his lips together. “Tragedy,” he muttered.

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who dragged me out on your adventure. Or something.”

“And you’re the one who hasn’t taken off for the bus yet,” Minho pointed out.

A grouchy “touche” reluctantly rolled off of Seungmin’s tongue.

As they turned the bend and emerged into a quieter street, Seungmin figured he didn't have anything to lose. “Fine. What story do you want to hear?”

When he tilted his head to glance at Minho, the stunned amazement was apparent on his face, as if he hadn’t expected Seungmin to agree at all. It took him a beat of silence to regain his composure, and his easy grin returned. “It doesn’t even have to be your true story. Make some shit up or something.”

“Then there’s not really a point in this conversation, is there?” Seungmin asked, scrunching up his nose. It seemed like this conversation really was going nowhere. Somehow, talking to Minho felt like relying on a broken compass, the arrow swinging around and around in inefficacious orbits. “If the both of us were to lie to each other, then we’re not exactly getting to know each other, are we?”

“I didn’t say that had to be the goal,” Minho argued. He folded his arms over his chest defiantly as they continued to stroll down the walkway. “And after all, even if we were to lie our entire life stories to each other, we’d still be able to get to know each other — that is, if it’s what you want.”

A pain was beginning to throb at the front of Seungmin’s head. “I don’t get you.”

Minho raised his shoulder in a shrug. “It doesn’t matter what you tell me. Like you said, we’re strangers — so we might as well remain as strangers while we’re talking, hm?”

If Seungmin had been functioning on more than three hours of sleep and a half cup of coffee, he would probably have backed off and actually taken off for the bus stop. In his dazed stupor, he could only gawk at Minho in wonder.

Minho chuckled. “I’ll go first, if it makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Right,” Minho nodded. The gentle curve of his eyes affirmed his reluctance to believe in Seungmin. “Of course it doesn’t.”

They somehow winded themselves up near the beginning of the Jamsil Railway Bridge Walk. Seungmin turned to gaze at the shimmering waters of the Han River mapped across the expanse of his view, until the edge of the river met the horizon. The noise of the cars and trucks zooming and honking past them were drowned up by the tranquil rush of the water.

As his eyes remained trained to the waters, he heard Minho continue to speak.

“I was born in Gimpo as an only child,” Minho said. “I would say I was a fairly good-looking kid throughout my life-” Seungmin snorted at this. “-It’s true! Anyhow, I had a pretty good childhood. Studied in Gimpo Jeil Technical High School, went to university, graduated with a degree, and now I’m doing what I love.”

Maybe Seungmin had been imagining things, but he could’ve sworn the last few words sounded caught in Minho’s throat, a furball he couldn’t seem to cough out. Still, the latter’s words reverberated in his mind — we might as well remain as strangers — and said, “Then what’re you doing now?”

“Chemical engineering,” Minho replied. “Interesting, right?”

Seungmin poked his tongue out. “Absolutely not,” he laughed. “I mean, science is important and everything, but it’s not really my… thing.”

“Then what is your thing, Seungmin-ah?”

That seemed to his cue to share his own story. Hesitant, Seungmin stirred up a few pebbles at his sneakers by chipping away at the pavement. “Law.”

“Huh,” Minho hummed. “Strangely enough, you seem to fit the part.”

“Why so?”

Minho stretched his arms out and began showing a grand display of wild gesticulations. If Seungmin hadn’t taken a step back, he probably would’ve received an accidental slap to his cheek. “Law, the very foundations of our country’s peace and harmony. You seemed prim and proper from the get-go, so I assumed you were doing something along those lines.”

Seungmin narrowed his eyes. “You don’t get to assume anything about me.” His voice came out sharper than he’d intended, a bite instead of a bark, but the point came across — he had never liked having others judge him for who he was.

“Maybe,” Minho answered, not seeming to care. Instead, he was pretending to traipse along an imaginary tightrope. Seungmin wondered how he could possibly be younger than this man at all.

“You say ‘maybe’ a lot,” Seungmin said. “Mind sharing your thoughts on that?”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Minho joked. He mimed falling off of the tightrope and windmilled his arms around crazily. Seungmin prayed no one was peeking out of their car windows right now. “Maybe I’m a fickle-minded person. Maybe I can’t make my own decisions. Maybe I overthink too much. Don’t you think so, Seungmin?”

The headache pounded away in his forehead now, drumming against his skin in a monotonous trance. “I think I should’ve taken off when I could have,” he grumbled under his breath.

“I thought you would have,” Minho said, “but here we are.”

“Here we are,” Seungmin echoed.

Eventually, they had somehow walked halfway down the bridge. To ease his headache, Seungmin refused to share anything more about himself, and allowed Minho to continue babbling away. He’d expected himself to tune out of Minho’s words, but the more he tried to reject his voice, the more it permeated his thoughts and curled into his brain, like a worm inching its way through the compact soil.

It was infuriating, but Seungmin didn’t try to shut him up. (To this day, he still doesn’t know why.)

As Minho finished the story of how he had adopted his two cats, he executed a small pirouette and finished with his body leaning against the railway of the bridge. His moves were sharp and smooth, even if it had only been a miniscule gesture. Curiosity wiggled away at the back of Seungmin’s mind, because for some reason, he was sure Minho was so much more than he was letting on.

And, considering they were strangers, and considering they might never cross paths again, Seungmin aimed for bullseye and let go of his arrow. “Do you dance?”

He observed the way Minho’s shoulders seized up at this. Despite the hard features lining his face, the ends of his ears burnt a distinct bright red. “Used to,” he answered, voice low. “Not anymore.”

Seungmin frowned. A question had only burst the gateways open for another dozen questions. “Why not?”

For a moment, Minho only stared out at the vacant waters. The late afternoon sunlight caught in his irises, reflected off of his pupils and left them glistening with a thousand stories to tell. “Just because,” Minho said.

When he turned to look at the younger, Seungmin realised that it hadn’t been the trick of the light at all — there were unshed tears in Minho’s eyes. He didn’t make any move to brush them away, though, so they stayed unacknowledged and welled up underneath the cages of his corneas.

Seungmin didn’t want to press on anymore, so he glanced back at the river. “Do you want to hear a story?” he suggested.

His response came in the form of a soft hum. “Once upon a time, there lived a young boy in Seoul. He grew up in a good family, and formed good friends, and now lives a good life studying in university. Sometimes, though, he wishes he could do something different.”

He didn’t dare to meet Minho’s eyes, certainly not when he whispered, “Why?”

“Who knows?” he murmured. He swallowed the bundle of nerves caught in his throat, hoping the uneasiness buzzing under his skin would dissipate away. “Maybe he wants a break from life. A break from routine. Maybe he wants to turn away from the heart of the city and venture somewhere off the grid. Or maybe he wants to do the things he’s never had the time or place to try before.”

Minho chortled. “And you accused me of saying ‘maybe’ too much?

Seungmin dared himself to meet Minho’s eyes. He was stunned to see them shine brighter than before, the tears having left no trace in his eyes that Seungmin wondered if he’d been imagining things.

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he answered, which earned him a playful jab in the ribs.

As the sun gradually began slinking down to the edge of the horizon, Minho fumbled around in the pocket of his slacks for something. Seungmin thought it might be a phone call, but then he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and he turned his head.

In the palm of Minho’s hand laid a small pebble. The smooth surface gleamed. It was silver, with a small teal line running down the length of one side of the stone. “Have this,” Minho offered.

He didn’t even wait for an answer before grabbing the man’s wrist, extending his arm out and dropping the pebble into Seungmin’s hand. A shock surged through Seungmin’s veins as he felt Minho’s fingers curling around his own, pressing the indent of the pebble against his skin.

“Why?” Seungmin asked.

There was something wild and unpredictable about Minho, Seungmin realised. From sauntering up to him and stealing away his food, to sharing made-up stories and gifting pebbles to a stranger. Somehow, in some way, it never truly shocked Seungmin to the core, because everything seemed so normal, and yet so different, around Lee Minho.

Maybe it was his presence. Or maybe it was his lazy grin, or his curved eyes, or his flushed ears. Whatever it was, Minho patted Seungmin’s hand, took a couple of steps back and saluted at Seungmin. Before the latter knew it, Minho had taken off down to the end of the bridge. His figure slowly shrunk in Seungmin’s view, the outline of his body illuminated by the feeble light of the sun.

It occurred to Seungmin that he’d never received an answer at all. When he looked back at the pebble, though, it didn’t really matter to him. A small smile unconsciously found its place on his lips, and he pocketed the pebble, and walked the other way.

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TWO: JUNE 2024

We might not do anything
But it won’t feel like a wasted day
Let time pass somehow
So we can meet

The second time he met Lee Minho, he hadn’t known what to expect again.

And to top it off, he was drunk.

“Cheers!” Jisung chorused. Four shot glasses were raised in the air, and they clinked together sharply. It rang shrilly in Seungmin’s eardrums, coupled with the chime of his friend’s shouts and shrieks.

As he tilted his head back and downed the shot, the alcohol oozed a burning pathway down his throat. He sighed as he lowered the glass and slammed it against the table. “One more,” he grinned.

Seated across from him, Hyunjin whistled. “Looks like someone is ready to unwind tonight,” he joked. He poured another shot for Seungmin, while gleefully humming along to the pop song streaming through the overhead speakers. “It’s about damn time, Seungmin-ah. You’ve been far too stressed out lately.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “It’s finals, Hyunjin-ah,” he protested. “Anyone would be stressed out.”

“Well, except Jisung,” Felix pointed out. “I swear I don’t understand how he can ace his exam when he’s only ever hit the books, like, once. And he doesn’t even take down notes during lectures!”

Jisung burped in response. “I’m right here, fellas. Don’t have to talk to me like I’m invisible.”

Admittedly, it had been a long while since he’d last caught up with his friends from college. Whilst he was studying at SNU, Hyunjin was pursuing his English major at Global Cyber University, whereas Felix and Jisung were both at the Korea National University of Arts. Life had been hectic for all of them, so ultimately Hyunjin had suggested that they gather for a drink — or a dozen, perhaps — on the weekend after their final exams.

As they shared out a basket of fried chicken, they exchanged ridiculous stories with each other — how Hyunjin got his butt stuck to a chair after his English lecture, how Felix and Jisung managed to egg-bomb the Jisung’s ex’s Mercedes car, how Felix raked in as much as ₩100,000 after selling batches of cookies and brownies to the student population.

By his sixth glass, Seungmin was terribly sure he had drunken far more than he could handle. He could feel his body swaying in time to the ballad song in the background, and his lower lip twitched from the urge of singing along. “Do you wanna hear something funny?” he blurted.

Curious, Jisung leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Let’s hear it, Minnie-ah.”

“I met someone last month,” Seungmin drawled. His eyelids were droopy, and he struggled to keep the shutters open. “I was studying in the cafe, and he just walked up to me and stole my drink. And my sandwich.”

“Not the sandwich,” Hyunjin groaned. “Did you beat him up?”

Seungmin giggled. “I wished I did,” he murmured. His mind retraced its steps back to the memory of the sunlight dappled across the features of Minho’s face, of the easy half-grin Minho offered to him. “It felt like a dream, but then…”

“But then?” Felix pressed.

“He left,” Seungmin mumbled. He began fumbling around with his fingers, picking at his cuticles. “He just gave me a pebble and left.”

A sharp gasp erupted from Jisung’s throat. “A pebble!” he parroted. “Fun fact! Did you know that male penguins try to impress females by giving them the smoothest pebble they can find? And if she likes the gift, she’ll put it in their nest!”

“Are you calling me a penguin?” Seungmin asked, baffled. On the other hand, Felix squealed, “How smooth was the pebble he gave you?!”

Seungmin snatched up the last chicken drumstick — sharing the drumsticks was not a concept he enjoyed with his friends, after all — and pursed his lips in deep thought. “It was pretty smooth? Like, there weren’t any cracks or crevices.”

In an over-dramatic gesture, Hyunjin clapped his hand over his mouth. “He was courting you!” he squawked.

“No, he wasn’t-”

“-He totally was,” Jisung nodded solemnly. “He even walked away! That’s the modernity of courting for you: a grand display of courtship, followed by the play-hard-to-get concept.”

“It’s the 21st century, Sungie-ah,” Seungmin sighed. “People go online dating.”

“Serial online dating, actually,” Hyunjin chorused. “I have this one friend who just bulldozes through, like, four online dates a day. I don’t even know how he gets that much action.”

At this, Jisung begins bombarding Hyunjin with a thousand questions on the ‘friend’ in question (“Holy shit, is it Changbin-hyung? It has to be him, right? How dare he get all this action up without leaving any for me.”) and the topic of Seungmin’s Mystery Man is dropped.

Even though Seungmin was convinced he didn’t mind, part of him wished they could continue talking about Minho, and ask him questions about the man in question. It wasn’t because he wanted the thrill of being teased and taunted by his friends, but rather, he yearned for some sort of reassurance that he hadn’t been hallucinating the entire day he’d spent with Minho.

For all he knew, Seoul wasn’t that huge. Surely, they would’ve run into each other by now, right? Surely, Minho would’ve somehow crossed paths with him within a week or two after their first encounter, but it had been a little over a month with no Lee Minho in sight.

The only evidence of the weight and sureness of the man came in the form of the smooth pebble on Seungmin’s bedside table.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Jisung scream and flail his arms around, before slipping out of his chair and crashing to the floor. Seungmin grimaced, watching as Jisung groaned out loud in agony. To make matters worse, Hyunjin knocked the soju bottle off of the table in the midst of helping Jisung up, sending it clattering and shattering on the floor.

Needless to say, within the next five minutes, they were kicked out of the restaurant.

“I swear that’s the fourth restaurant we’ve been evicted from,” Seungmin muttered.

“Fifth,” Felix corrected. “Remember the time Hyunjin was drunk and shouting his ex’s name at the top of his lungs? And then he started yelling at the waiter to bring his ex back to him.”

Jisung whined. “Come on, guys, let’s go find somewhere else to drink,” he announced, all the while rubbing away at his backside. Hyunjin didn’t seem to be much help with blowing air over the fabric of Jisung’s jeans, but Seungmin had to admit they were all pretty buzzed by now.

“You three can go ahead,” Seungin yawned. “I think I’ll head off first. I’ve had too much to drink.”

Felix eyed his friend warily. “You sure you can get home by yourself?” he asked, concern laced in his tone.

Seungmin waved a hand dismissively in the air. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine,” he reassured.

After a couple more pleas from Jisung to follow them to the karaoke bar downtown, Seungmin turned down his friend’s requests with a laugh and stayed there on the same spot as he watched his friends finally relent and slouch off without him.

It felt strange to be detached from his friends, but Seungmin knew he couldn’t handle any more alcohol in his system. Thus, he turned and made his way to the nearby bus stop.

Thankfully, the bench was empty. Knowing there was no chance of getting mugged out here, Seungmin hummed a tune and plopped down on the seat. Despite the summer heat in the day, the night was a little chilly, and he found himself wrapping his parka around him a bit tighter.

Perhaps this was the part where he’d have to admit that he hadn’t wanted to follow with his friends at all. Sure, he didn’t want to have anything more to drink, but he’d also wanted to just get home and lie down on his couch. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten at the memory of Felix’s eyes barreling right into his own, as if trying to pry Seungmin open and discover the truths he withheld in his heart, away from his close friends.

It wasn’t that he hated their company; in fact, they were the limelights of Seungmin’s life. Yet, there were times he felt like a bystander amongst them, and maybe this was one of those times. Maybe that was his own fault, or maybe that was his own gut feeling.

Or maybe Seungmin just wanted someone he could easily portray his emotions to.

Someone who could understand where he was coming from. Someone who could empathise with him, not the way the contract of friendship promised, but the way the genuinity of a human offered. Someone who could be more like-

“-Kim Seungmin?”

Seungmin peered up from the gravel road and stared at the blurry outline of a man. Under the dim lights of the bus stop, the man standing before him was dressed in a grey sweatshirt tucked into a pair of ripped jeans. His hair looked a little rumpled, and his eyes flashed in the dark.

As familiarity tugged at his mind, Seungmin parted his lips in surprise. “Minho?”

“That’s Minho-hyung to you,” he chuckled.

Long gone was the formal attire. Strangely, Minho looked starkly different in casual wear, like a different person altogether. It probably showed on Seungmin’s face, because Minho guffawed at the younger. “Close your mouth, Seungminnie-ah. This place is swarming with mosquitoes.”

A flash of indignation passed over Seungmin’s features. “Shut up.”

“Ooh, someone’s feisty tonight,” Minho cooed. He landed on the space beside Seungmin with a sigh. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” Minho chimed.

Seungmin groaned and leaned back against the wall. “Shut up,” he said again.

“Make me.”

He could begin to feel the oncomings of a headache creep into his forehead once more.

In his daze, Seungmin seemed to forget that it had been so long since he’d last met Minho. Yet, with the way Minho was grinning back at him, it felt like it was only just yesterday Minho had dropped the pebble in his open palm and closed his hand around it. “It’s a little ironic, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“This.” Minho gestured at the bus stop sign with a knowing smirk. “Remember the last time you said you’d rather take the bus home than continue walking with me? I’m still wounded from that day, Seungminnie-ah.”

Seungmin sighed. This night just didn’t seem to end, did it? “Well, it’s your fault. You didn’t have to come up to me and sit down here and force me to listen to your whining ass.”

“Ouch,” Minho mewled. He clutched a hand over his chest with a strangled whimper for melodramatic effect. “You sure know how to ruin someone’s day.”

“It’s nighttime. And frankly, I don’t care.”

Minho shrugged. His arm dropped and fell back to his side. “Say all you want, Seungmin. I know you care.”

It irked Seungmin to know that Minho knew. Who was this man to waltz up to him and pester him and assume all the things he knew about Seungmin? Who was this man to leave his life and reappear again out of nowhere?

Maybe it was the alcohol surging through his veins, because Seungmin snapped his head around and glared at Minho. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

“I saw you here,” Minho answered matter-of-factly. “And I saw you swaying around. Figured you were drunk, so I just decided to drop by and make sure your ass wouldn’t get mugged.”

“That’s strangely nice of you,” Seungmin scoffed.

Amusement traced Minho’s expression. “It is. But you still owe me a huge one.”

“For what?”

Minho pointed at the shadow of his heart. “For wounding my little soul,” he murmured. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The sense of deja vu reemerged in Seungmin’s mind. He felt heady, like cotton clouding his thoughts over and leaving his inner voice muffled up. “Don’t tell me we’re going for a drink.”

Laughing, Minho stood and swivelled around. He extended an arm out, and yanked Seungmin to his feet. The grip of his hand in the older’s felt oddly compelling, his long, lanky fingers intertwined with Minho’s shorter, stubbier ones. The feeling only lasted for a second, and their hands eventually dropped back down.

“No more drinking for you,” Minho tutted. “In fact, we’re going to sober you up.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“The arcade isn’t going to sober me up, you know.”

The both of them stepped into the enclosed space. In Seungmin’s drunken spell, he gazed groggily at the scintillating technicolour flashing away in the dark arena. Bursts of heavy bass music pounded in his ears, making his eardrums ring from the repercussions of each beat.

He immediately hated this place. Too much colour, too much noise, too much of everything.

“Relax a little, will you?” Minho urged. He steered Seungmin over to the ticket exchange machine, where he retrieved his wallet and fed a couple thousand won notes into the contraption. Within seconds, a strip of tickets spat out of the output tray. “Come on. Buy some yourself.”

“I’m not going to waste my money on the arcade,” Seungmin grumbled. Still, his hand seemed to have other plans, and it was a little later that he found himself tearing out the ticket stubs from the tray, too.

Minho sighed. “Oh, Seungmin-ah, you do tend to amaze me at times.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything. He simply resorted to glowering at the other man.

Unbeknownst to Seungmin’s glaring (or, rather not caring at all), Minho dragged Seungmin over to the air hockey table. “Three rounds,” Minho challenged.

It was a late discovery, but nonetheless, Seungmin knew this was a bad idea. He was buzzed, and tired, and exasperated. Still, he fed a ticket stub into the machine, and the lights framing the table flickered to life.

They illuminated the satisfied curl of Minho’s smirk. Seungmin tried to convince himself that it didn’t make his heart flip.

“Let’s roll,” Minho announced.

Sure, Seungmin was probably more wasted than ever, but he never, ever backs down from a challenge. He grips the striker tightly in his hands, knuckles cracking. He eyes the firetruck red pucker in the middle of the table cautiously, exchanging determined glances between it and Minho.

The moment Minho struck the puck, all mayhem crashed down upon the both of them.

Sweat poured from Seungmin’s scalp as he skilfully maneuvered his striker to hit against the pucker at just the right angle. Glee bubbled in his chest as he watched the pucker glide straight into the goal, swiping up his first win. “Ha! I have to admit, you’re gonna get wiped out, hyung.”

A dangerous glint passed over Minho’s eyes. He rolled the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows with dead-on determination. “We’ll see about that, hotshot.”

The pucker kept skidding back and forth the expanse of the table. The tension between them fired up in an instance, with Minho hissing with every flick of his wrist, and Seungmin gritting his teeth together with every smack of the pucker hitting his striker.

Eventually, Seungmin missed, and the pucker slid right into his end.

“And the crowd cheers!” Minho gloats. He does a victory dance right then and there, pumping his fists into the air. “Lee Minho! Lee Minho!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seungmin grumbled. He grinded his teeth together in frustration. “Can we play the third round already?”

Minho laughed. “Wow, Seungminnie, you’re so competitive.”

“I’m not.”

“So are.”

God, could this man get any more annoying? Seungmin purposefully lowered his stance so he was almost eye-level with the table. “Come on, give me your best,” he insisted. “Come right at me.”

Minho twirled the pucker around in his hand. “You sure about that?”

“Hell yeah,” Seungmin laughed.

Minho snorted, set the puck back onto the table, and the thrill of the game was lit aflame once more.

Even some of the other teenagers in the arcade had become invested in their game. Upon hearing the grunts and cries from the air hockey table, a small crowd had gathered around the two men as they watched Seungmin and Minho battle it out over a puck. It ignited something in Seungmin, something exhilarating, and he found himself doing elaborate movements as he angled his striker against the puck.

“Come on!” he roared with a burst of laughter. “You can do way better than that!”

“You’re not ready for it,” Minho retorted. He hit the puck, sending it sailing across the table, only for Seungmin to strike it back.

Some of the kids began rooting for them. Seungmin felt a surge of confidence gush throughout his body. He scanned the table for the puck, angled his striker to perfection, and hit. The puck glided across the table smoothly, until it clattered right into his goal.

The arcade exploded into applause. Seungmin grinned, setting his striker down before bowing down in front of the sea of people. “Thank you, thank you!” he cried. He jokingly tipped his imaginary hat down, giggling as some of the teenagers slapped his back and complimented his moves.

When he glanced back at the other end of the table, he was caught by surprise at the unreadable expression on Minho’s face. He was grinning at Seungmin, but not out of cockiness. It was a real, genuine smile framing his lips.

This time, Seungmin really tried to convince himself that his heart wasn’t beating faster than usual. The thought vanished from his mind as Minho slinked around the table until he stopped in front of Seungmin.

“Good game,” Minho said. He stuck his hand out.

Slightly confused, Seungmin reached his own hand out for a limp handshake. “What’s the reward, then?” he asked nonchalantly.

Minho gestured over at the other end of the arcade. “This calls for a celebration, no?”

When Seungmin followed the other’s line of sight, he noticed the row of claw machines occupying the entire length of the wall. He scoffed. “As if you’ll win any of them,” he said. “Those are a scam. They gobble up your money like crazy.”

“Not if you’ve perfected your moves,” Minho countered.

To be frank, Seungmin didn’t even care if Minho wasted all his money on a stupid claw machine. What confused him was that Minho wanted to waste all his money on a stupid claw machine, for him. Even the thought of it was puzzling to swallow.

Seungmin didn’t try stopping him, though.

That’s how he found himself leaning against one of the machines as he watched Minho’s tongue prodding against his cheek in flat-out intentness. The beaming lights from the machine reflected in flecks against his dark brown irises. The shadows of his sharp nose laid against the apples of his cheeks.

It was probably the booze talking, but Seungmin realised how criminally gorgeous Minho was. He’d noticed it before, but somehow every feature seemed to be amplified under the influence, in some way or another.

It took a long moment for him to tear his gaze away from Minho’s face and glance down at the plushies, caged away in the confines of the claw machine.

“Which one d’you want?” Minho asked.

Seungmin’s eyes wandered around. They were animal plushies, mostly cats or hamsters or fishes. The one that did catch his eye, though, was the fluffy puppy tucked away in the corner, almost shying away from attention.

He didn’t give an answer.

Still, Minho fed two tickets into the machine with a plain shrug. “Alright. One puppy to go.”

Seungmin blinked at the other man in confusion. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Really?” Minho hummed. He jerked the controller to the right, and the claw rattled over to the plushie toy in question. “Now, watch this.”

Intrigued, Seungmin pressed his nose against the glass and observed as the crane lowered down to the sea of toys. The ends of its claws enclosed right underneath the body of the toy puppy, and to Seungmin’s astonishment, the crane lifted the toy right back up.

“What?” Seungmin gasped. “How did you do that? That’s impossible.”

Minho beamed. “Nothing’s impossible, Seungminnie-ah.” He bent down to flip the flap of the tray open, and sure enough, the plush toy gleamed back at them in all its fluffy glory. He retrieved it and handed it to Seungmin. “It takes a hell lot of practice and precision.”

“I don’t believe you,” Seungmin chuckled. Still, he lifted the toy in his hands and grazed his palms over the faux fur. Something akin to happiness blossomed in his chest, and when he peered back up, the smile on his face seemed to mirror Minho’s.

“Maybe you do,” Minho corrected. “You just won’t admit it.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Have you sobered up already?”

They found themselves back at the same bus stop where they had met. The watch on Seungmin’s wrist indicated that it was past midnight by now. After Minho’s win at the claw machine, they wasted away the last few tickets to play a round of car racing, before sipping on freezing cold Slushies from the nearby twenty-four-hour cafe.

Seungmin chuckled. “I think it’s pretty needless to say, hyung.”

Minho averted his gaze back to the empty road. “Just asking.”

As the two men waited patiently for the bus, the weight of the coincidence that night began to resurface in Seungmin’s thoughts, from the moment Minho had bumped into him at the bus stop, to the moment Minho had smiled at him like Seungmin was worth looking at.

It felt far too fitting for this to be a coincidence.

“Do you want to hear a story?” he blurted.

He watched Minho quirk an eyebrow up in surprise. “A story?”

“Yeah.”

Minho leaned back against the wall, lips pursed. “Go ahead.”

Hesitant, Seungmin wrapped his arms protectively around the plush toy and cleared his throat. “Once upon a time, there was a boy who had — well, still has — the best friends he could’ve ever asked for in this world. To this day, he loves their company, but he sometimes can’t help but feel like he’s… he’s watching from the sidelines.”

At this, Minho straightened himself up. “What-”

“-It’s not a bad thing,” Seungmin persisted. “It’s not their fault or anything. It’s just that sometimes, I want to say things I can’t seem to say out loud, you know? I want to express what I feel, but I just can’t seem to find the right words to say, or the right time to say them.”

Silence draped over the two of them. Somewhere in the distance, a chilly breeze rushed across the city. The leaves on the floor rustled against the pavement. The cold of the night seeped into the spaces in between their clothes. It was a quiet, tranquil night, until Minho spoke.

“What do you want to say?”

The words in Seungmin’s brain were muddled up. He couldn’t seem to string them together, or force them out of his throat, or do anything with them at all. At least, that was how he’d felt earlier in the restaurant, surrounded by his closest friends in the world.

Now, as he sat there next to a complete stranger that had somehow wormed his way into Seungmin’s life, he felt the words spill from his lips with ease. With confidence. “Sometimes I feel like I still don’t know myself. I don’t know what I want, or what I need. It sounds kind of petty, but it’s… true.”

His words remained still in the air between them.

Minho went silent for a long while, long enough for the local bus to rumble towards them and squeak to a halt in front of the bus stop. Embarrassed, Seungmin hung his head low and scrambled to his feet. “Look, whatever. Forget I said that. I’ll just go-”

“-It’s not petty.”

Stunned, Seungmin peeked over his shoulder to watch Minho shrug. “You’re young, Seungmin-ah. You don’t need to worry over what you want, or what you need. You’ll figure it out soon. The only thing you should do, though, is live your life.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything in response. He stood there, rooted to the ground, until the bus driver slapped his fist against the honk. He snapped himself out of his thoughts, turned around and stumbled up the steps to the bus.

Even after the bus pulled away from the stop, and even after he returned home, and even after he washed up and changed into his pyjamas and threw himself onto the bed, he still didn’t understand what Minho meant.

What he didn’t know then, though, is that he’d understand soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

THREE: JULY 2024

I hope I don’t miss you

The third time he met Lee Minho, he had gathered an idea of what to expect (but that doesn’t mean that the reality didn’t shock him.)

As the shoreline of Mallipo Beach came into view, Seungmin felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. He peered over his shoulder to see his three friends jostling each other and squealing at the sight of the sandy coast. “We’re heeeeereeee!” Jisung cried.

The summer holiday had rolled around in a blink of an eye. Before Seungmin knew it, Jisung had lassoed all four of them to Taean on a bonding trip, rented a holiday pension for them to stay at, and even mapped out an itinerary for them. To see Han Jisung, of all people to plan out a holiday, seemed ridiculous to Seungmin, but he wasn’t about to complain at all.

After dropping their baggage off at the pension, the four of them had hurriedly rushed all the way to the beach. The late afternoon sun glare down at the dozens of umbrellas already propped up all along the length of the sandy beach.

From where Seungmin stood, he could see the clear blue waters crashing against the shore. Children waded near the coastline in their floats. A group of teenagers was engaged in a heated round of beach volleyball. Dozens of people flocked the sea, catching and surfing the waves in earnest, before slipping off their boards and landing into the waters.

“There’s so many people here,” Felix commented.

Hyunjin looped an arm around Seungmin’s shoulder and laughed. “This is going to be one fun week,” he announced. “Should we ask those guys if they have another volleyball to spare?”

As Hyunjin and Felix headed towards the group of teenagers, Seungmin spotted an empty space amidst the sea of patterned umbrellas. He laid out their blanket flat against the sand, and set their cooler down to smooth out the edges.

Next to him, Jisung grinned back at his friend. “You wanna play with us, Min?”

Seungmin shook his head. “Nah, y’all go ahead,” he replied. He was never a fan of volleyball; he didn’t like the burn of his wrists from the smack of the ball against his arms. He watched Jisung turn and rush off to the other two who managed to borrow a volleyball from the kids.

Instead of engaging himself in the game, Seungmin dusted his hands and fiddled around in his bag for his camera. Even though it was an old purchase, Seungmin hadn’t found the time to use it yet. With Minho’s words still fresh in his mind, Seungmin wanted to take his words to heart — and he did.

He turned the camera on, then tried aiming the lens at his friends. They had scratched a barely visible line across the sand as a makeshift net, and somehow roped another guy into their game to even out the teams. He adjusted the focus, aimed, and clicked away.

For the next half hour, he snapped several dozen photos of his friends and their poor attempts to serve and slam the volleyball across the ‘net’. It was amusing, really, and Seungmin found himself cracking up too many times to count, especially when Jisung landed on the sand bum-first while trying to retrieve the ball.

Eventually, his stomach released a feeble whine. Seungmin sighed and glanced at his watch. It was already three in the afternoon, and he hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. He slung the camera around his neck and scrambled to his feet. “I’m gonna go get something to eat,” he announced. “Do you guys want anything?”

Hyunjin swivelled around and raised a thumbs-up, signalling that they were good. Seungmin smiled, nodded in response and headed off to find the nearest restaurant.

He noticed a small crowd of people surrounding a small shack in the distance, and decided to go and check it out. Sure enough, it was a restaurant propped up right on the beach. The gateways flanked the small building, boasting both an indoor and outdoor dine-in. Fairy lights were strung overhead, extending across the space of the outdoor dining area.

A warm aroma wafted through the air, welcoming Seungmin as he headed up to the counter. There was no one at the cashier yet, so he resorted to scanning the menu atop of the marble countertop. There were a few Korean dishes, Western snacks and even other East Asian cuisines, like Japanese sushi or Thai food.

“Hey, welcome to Snack Shack. How can I help you?”

The voice that greeted him was strikingly familiar. Startled, Seungmin glanced up to meet the eyes of a man he hadn’t seen for a good few weeks. “Minho?”

Minho offered a dazzling smile. “What did I say, Seungmin-ah? It’s Minho-hyung to you,” he pouted.

Seungmin wasn’t sure what to think. Out of all the places they could’ve met again, Seungmin hadn’t expected to run into the other man here. Was this purely coincidental, or was this something that ran deeper between them? “What’re you doing here?”

“I work here,” Minho said. “This place is owned by my cousin, so I come down and help them out every summer.”

“Oh.” Still unconvinced, Seungmin looked back down at the menu. “Um. I’ll have a kimchi ramyun.”

“Bo-ring,” Minho enunciated. “You’re at Mallipo Beach, and you want to eat ramyun? Spice your life up a little, Min-ah.”

Seungmin sighed. “What’s wrong with ramyun? There’s no law against having noodles here.”

“Yeah, but you’re clearly here for a holiday,” Minho pointed out. “Aren’t holidays meant for trying new things?”

“For you, maybe,” Seungmin said.

He couldn’t help but eye Minho’s outfit. He wore a floral-patterned button-down, the top few buttons undone, all the way down to the underside of his chest. Seungmin willed his eyes to glance back at Minho’s face, but not before tucking the memory of tanned honey skin away in his mind.

For, you know, future reference.

Minho tapped his fingers rhythmically against the counter. “What will it be, Min-ah? Good ‘ol boring ramyun, or something a little more exciting? We’ve got Japanese temaki, pad thai, and even siew mai. One of our chefs is from China.”

There was something coherently attractive about the way Minho managed to pronounce all the dish names with perfect pronunciation, the words rolling off his tongue with practised ease. He oozed charisma with his every gesture, and even though it shouldn’t surprise Seungmin by now, it still did.

He wasn’t the kind to be swayed, though. “Ramyun.”

“Fine,” Minho sighed. He punched in Seungmin’s order and tore the receipt off almost aggressively. “You can take a seat or whatever.”

Seungmin laughed. “Are you angry?” he chuckled. “Apparently, not listening to the Great Lee Minho’s words is considered treason to him.”

“What can I say?” Minho shot. He handed Seungmin’s order to a passing chef, before turning back around and shooting an exaggerated wink. “The people here love me.”

“You better watch that inflating ego,” Seungmin said. “Or you might not be able to fit the door on your way out today.”

“Hardy har har.”

Noticing that there weren’t any customers waiting in line, Seungmin slid into one of the booths along the counter and clasped his hands together. “You wanna know something?”

When Minho gave an absent-minded nod, Seungmin added, “I was beginning to think I was hallucinating you.”

“What?” Minho snorted. He leaned against his elbows on the countertop, curled fists grazing the skin of Seungmin’s knuckles. Seungmin pretended not to take note of this. “Was I too dreamy to be real?”

“The opposite, really,” Seungmin lied. “Thought it was a nightmare.”

“Well, guess I must’ve caused your heart to beat a little faster, hm?”

The blatant acts of flirtation probably came with Minho’s job description, Seungmin figured. He decidedly ignored the other’s question (“Oi, Seungmin-ah,” Minho hissed. He poked Seungmin’s forearm with his index finger. “Answer me, you oaf.”) Instead, he tilted his head to stare out at the waves, at the people riding out the waves.

He couldn’t help but hiss as he watched someone slip off of the board and crash face-first into the salty sea. “It’s so dangerous out there.”

“Dangerous, sure, but what’s life without a little danger?”

The gears in Seungmin’s mind shifted. “You know how to surf?”

“Duh,” Minho said, impassive. “I’ve come down to Mallipo Beach at least, like, five times by now.”

A slight breeze stirred up, ruffling through their hair. When Seungmin shifted back to look at Minho, the wind carded its wisps through the man’s dark hair. It seemed almost mystical in some way, like Minho controlled the forces of nature and directed them towards him. It didn’t take much for Seungmin to imagine Minho sailing across the seas on a surfboard, gliding up and down the crests and troughs.

It must be a pretty sight, Seungmin thought.

“I don’t know how to,” Seungmin admitted.

Something between a strangled gasp and a whine escaped from Minho’s lips. “No way,” he gaped. He pointed an accusatory finger at the other’s chest. “You, Kim Seungmin, are missing out so much.”

“I beg to differ,” Seungmin protested. “I’m content with the way I am.”

“Are you?”

The sliver of inculpation laced in Minho’s tone reminded Seungmin of their first meeting all over again. Sometimes, though, he wishes he could do something different.

Before Seungmin can open his mouth to answer, a steaming bowl of ramyun is set on the countertop in front of him. His gaze flicked over to the waitress, who shot him a quick smile before scurrying off. The strong fragrance of the soup tickled his nostrils, and his stomach released another poor whine.

“Eat up,” Minho said. “I’ll just head to the back and tend to some stuff.”

Seungmin knew. He knew that the other man was only feigning the disinterest in his voice. Yet, the earnestness stirring his chest didn’t seem to fade away — it only seemed to expand, stretching out for miles and miles on end, as wide as the ocean and as far as the horizons.

Seungmin knew he was drawn to Minho. At that time, he hadn’t realised just how far he would go to be by his side once more.

“Teach me how to surf, then.”

Stunned, Minho turned on his heel and knocked a spoon off of a nearby counter. The metal collided noisily against the linoleum floor, but from the look on his face, he didn’t seem to care. “Really?” he mused.

The eagerness in his smile made it impossible for Seungmin to suppress his laughter. “Really.”

“Okay,” Minho nodded jerkily. “Tomorrow morning, 8AM. Meet me at the surf rental, yeah?”

At that time, Seungmin hadn’t realised how profusely he loved seeing the smile frame itself on Minho’s perfect face. At that time, all Seungmin could do was smile and nod, because it felt like the simplest thing to do in the whole, wide world.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time Seungmin managed to weasel his way out of his friends’ invasive questions, it was already ten minutes past eight.

“Gosh, the Almighty Kim Seungmin is tardy; who would’ve guessed?” Minho guffawed, leaning against the entrance door to the surf rental shop. His hair was tousled from the morning breeze. He was sporting another button-down, and the wind seemed to tease a little more of the view to Seungmin’s eyes.

Seungmin offered an awkward half-smile. “Sorry. Was caught up by my friends.”

“Whatever for?”

“You wouldn’t want to know,” Seungmin admitted, and it was true. He still wasn’t sure how he’d wrangled out of Jisung’s vice grip on him. (“Is our Seungmin going out on a date?!” Jisung shrieked. “Who’s the lucky guy? Do I need to beat him up with my kettle?”

“Guys, I’m late!” Seungmin whined. “And stop biting my shoulder, Sungie, you’re not a vampire.”)

Seungmin shuddered from the memory of the event. “What do I need to rent?”

“A wetsuit, a surfboard — get a longboard, by the way — and you’re ready to go,” Minho said. “I’ll wait for you out back once you’re done.”

And when Seungmin did, he wasn’t expecting to see Minho stretching his arms out while dressed in his wetsuit. As the morning rays creeped along the sandy coast, they slinked closer and closer to Minho and irradiated the smooth outline of his limbs and body, down the dips and curves of his body and back up to his ruffled hair.

The lump in his throat was getting harder to swallow.

“Ah, you’re done,” Minho grinned. He sauntered over to Seungmin, dusting up sand around his bare feet. “I should probably give you a full run-through, but I’m impatient, so I’ll just teach you the basics first.”

That didn’t seem too bad, Seungmin thought. At least, that’s what he held onto until he felt an abrupt shove against his back. He screeched and instinctively planted a foot forward to keep him from toppling over. “What the hell, hyung?” Seungmin hissed. “I thought you were going to-”

“-Ooh, look,” Minho interrupted. He pointed at Seungmin’s right foot, where it was rooted to the ground. “You’re a rightie. Guess that’s your backfoot.”

Seungmin tried to recall his memory. Yesterday night, he’d scoured the Internet and skimmed through a handful of videos, hoping they would shed some light on this incredulous task ahead of him. “This is the foot that’ll be strapped to the leg rope, right?”

“Right.” Minho nodded. “Lay down your surfboard, and I’ll teach you how you’re gonna paddle. Then you can learn to pop up.”

The rest of the morning flew by faster than Seungmin had anticipated. As the sea breeze drifted past the beach, Minho’s voice wavered into and out of Seungmin’s conscience as he focused on the task at hand. His brows were wrinkled in deep concentration, face muscles twitching as he slowly positioned himself on the longboard.

At around nine, Minho slapped a reassuring hand against the other’s back. “Alright, cool. I checked the waves this morning, and the weather looks good enough for you to head out into the water. Let’s go.”

The realisation that Seungmin was about to brave the waves crashed over him like a tsunami slamming against shore. It’s poorly ironic, he figured. “Um, are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Minho lifted up the blue-and-white surfboard out of the sand, where it had been leaning against the fence — probably his personal one, judging from the faded teal and odd scratches — and dragged it against the ground. “Come on.”

For a second, Seungmin considered faking a headache, a stomachache, or any form of medical illness to somehow burrow himself out of this tight space. Yet, Minho’s words drifted back to him in a hum, resonating throughout his head. You don’t need to worry over what you want, or what you need. You’ll figure it out soon.

The only thing you should do, though, is live your life.

It occurred to Seungmin then, that he knew he wanted this. He wanted something different, something off-grid. Something adventurous. What was it that Minho said? A breather from his boring life?

Routine was something he had been fixated upon for the past twenty years of his life, but Seungmin would be damned if he didn’t add some spontaneity to his life.

“Okay.” Seungmin gulped. “Okay, yeah.”

They lugged their surfboards out to the sandy littoral. Out here, Seungmin captured the scenery before him with his eyes, like snapping a shot of the view. The sun shone down blazingly against the clear sea. The waves in the distance rolled and tossed upon the waters, before fizzling out into cloudy foam.

There was something strangely tranquil about watching the waves curl and form. The serenity was, of course, fractured when he felt a gentle nudge against his ribs. “Come on,” Minho chuckled. “The waves aren’t going to wait for you forever.”

Seungmin sniffled. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he admitted.

“We’ll head out a little way ahead, away from the shoreline. That way, we won’t disturb any of the kids playing around here,” Minho instructed. “We’ll work on your paddling first, then your pop up. It’ll take a while for you to get used to the rocky waves, so don’t expect to be perfect on your first try.”

“It’s not impossible, though,” Seungmin said.

He caught the ghost of a smile shadowing Minho’s lips. Both of them knew just as much.

“It’s not,” Minho agreed.

As they tiptoed into the frigid cold waters, a hiss of a breath escaped between the gaps of his gritted teeth. The wetsuit, though, helped him adjust to the temperature quickly, and it didn’t take long for the two of them to wade out into the open sea.

“Get on your board,” Minho said. “And we’ll practise some paddling first.”

Clearly, the reality of surfing was starkly contrasting from their practice run on dry land. Seungmin should’ve braced himself for the onslaught of the truth, but it was tougher than he imagined. He squealed as he felt the undercurrents surge beneath his board, and held on tight to the edges. “It’s strong,” he muttered.

Beside him, Minho steadied an arm on Seungmin’s shoulder. “Don’t panic. That’s the worst thing you could do out here,” he warned.

“How am I supposed to stay calm, then?” Seungmin spat.

A glint appeared in Minho’s eyes, and left as quickly as it shone. “Connect with the waves. Be in control of your board, and you can pretend you’re in control of the forces, too.”

“I can’t control nature,” Seungmin scoffed. “No one can.”

“I did say pretend. Pretending gets you places sometimes, you know.”

Seungmin had half a mind to ask Minho if he was good at pretending, if he was pretending now, if his smile and bright eyes and calm mien were all simply pretense, but then a wave sent him sailing up and down on his board, and he screeched.

“Stay calm!” Minho insisted with a laugh. “The waves are soft right now. They won’t turn you overboard.”

A chatter rang through Seungmin’s teeth. “It’s not as easy as you think it is,” he said.

“Whatever. Start paddling. I’ll check your form.”

Disgruntled, Seungmin rolled his eyes long enough for Minho to notice, but he still decided against ignoring Minho’s words, lest he be hurled against another incoming wave. He laid chest-down against the board and dipped his hands against the cold sea.

Next to him, Minho did the same. Compared to Seungmin, though, there was an air of confidence that came with familiarity surrounding the man as he sculled and maneuvered himself through the waters alone. “You’re doing good,” Minho said. “Try popping up.”

Seungmin tried. He really did try, but the moment he lifted himself up into a push-up, his right hand grasped the edge of the board instead of laying flat against the plastic, and he windmilled to the side. An involuntary scream erupted from his throat before he splashed into the water.

“Seungmin!”

He felt an arm around his torso tug him back up. When his head broke through the surface, Seungmin hacked away at the seawater that had flowed through his open mouth. “Fuck,” he cursed, coughing up salt. “That was really bad.”

“Yeah,” Minho sighed. “Don’t panic out here in the water. You’ll forget your technique in an instance. And besides, I’m here. So just… stay calm.”

It was then that Seungmin noticed the arm still curled around his waist. The burn of a blush tickled his neck, before rising up to his cheeks. “You can let go of me now.”

Minho’s arm didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he tightened his grip around the other’s hip, reeling him closer. Seungmin caught his breath before it could audibly hitch in his throat.

Out here, in the open sea, it felt like they were the only two humans left in the waters. What surprised Seungmin the most, though, was the way he tried to search for an answer in Minho’s eyes.

All he got was the riveting scorch of his stare.

When Minho finally spoke, his voice was dangerously low. “Promise me you’ll trust me,” Minho whispered.

All the times that Seungmin had met him, Minho had shown different sides of himself. The rude, unabashed stranger who swiped his coffee and sandwich. The enigmatic man who shared stories and gifted him a pebble before parting ways. The thoughtful man who was understanding towards Seungmin’s emotions. The keen, adventurous man who wrapped his arm around his torso and pleaded for Seungmin to trust him.

In that space in time, Seungmin wondered: which one was the real Lee Minho?

He swallowed the questions that threatened to spill over. “Promise.”

At this, Minho untangled his arm from around Seungmin’s body. The warmth from the former’s body dissolved into the water, leaving Seungmin cold and empty. “Let’s give it another go, then.”

An hour went by in this manner. It took around ten tries before Seungmin managed to wobble onto his feet, only to collide into the sea again. It took another ten tries before Seungmin could balance himself for at least five seconds on the top of the deck.

On any other day, he would’ve felt his efforts were futile. Somehow, with Minho patting him on the back or brushing the man’s failures with a shrug of his shoulders, Seungmin felt his efforts hadn’t gone in vain.

“There’s a big wave coming through,” Minho observed.

“What?” Seungmin turned sharply to see the familiar lurch of the water, bulging out of sea level with every passing second. “What do we do now?”

Minho whirled back around with a wicked grin on his face. “We ride the wave out.”

“What? No, no way,” Seungmin spluttered. “Let’s not get ahead of us. I can barely stand on my own two feet.”

“You’re in control of the board, Min-ah,” Minho reminded. “And you’re in control of the waves.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” Seungmin hissed. “So let’s think of another solution before we-”

“-Start paddling!”

There was no way Seungmin could outrun this wave, anyway. Sighing, he hopped back onto the deck of his board and flattened his chest against the plastic. “If I drown after this, it’s your fault!” he screeched over his shoulder, before running his hands through the waters.

He could feel it: the swell of the wave rippling underneath the board. The rush of the waters hurrying all around him. The growl of a starved billow with the impending desire to swallow him whole.

But he could also feel this: the surge of adrenaline that stormed through his body, overtaking every fibre in his being. The beads of water dripping down his chest and landing on his firm hands. The hurricane of hope encircling his body, as he pressed his palms against the board and lifted himself up.

“Now!”

The sound of a man who filled him with hope, and promise.

He didn’t wobble at all. With a determined slam of his foot against the board, Seungmin steadied his backfoot still before landing his left foot forward. He could feel the rise of the wave propelling him up and away, and so did the euphoria that bubbled and fulminated in his chest. The wind blew all around him, and he was flying.

He was soaring.

The jubilation lasted for a split second before he lost his footing and slipped off the board.

Minho’s words echoed in the cave of his mind. Promise me you’ll trust me. With that, Seungmin didn’t make an effort to struggle; he stayed underwater until the upthrust of the water catapulted him back into reality.

As he resurfaced, he gasped loud and hard. He sucked in a deep breath of air, feeling it flow through his lungs once more. “Holy shit,” he whispered to himself. “Holy shit, I-”

“-You did it!”

He swivelled around to see Minho paddling over to him. The grin on his face was impossibly wide. “See that? You did it, Seungmin-ah.”

Seungmin choked on his breath. “Yeah, before sidewinding into the sea again.”

“Still.” Minho extended an arm out, and Seungmin graciously took it. The strength of the man’s grip helped him back onto his board. “That was incredible, Seungmin.”

The compliment was a little far-fetched, but Seungmin still took it. After all, it wasn’t every day that Lee Minho would be handing out compliments so easily, so pliantly. He felt warmth sseep through his pores, and he couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Let’s do it again,” Seungmin suggested.

Minho laughed, loud and thrilling. “Yeah, sure. Let’s see if you can catch up with me, Min-ah.”

Seungmin knew he wouldn’t, but that never stopped him from trying.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The week passed by in a flurry. Most mornings, he would spend them with his friends. (Seungmin decided to challenge himself and play a round of volley. The game lasted until he landed face-first into the sand and grit, but he supposed he did at least try). At noon, he would duck around to the Snack Shack for lunch (Seungmin took it upon himself to try a few other cuisines. He especially liked the head chef’s Mexican tacos. Jeongin could only flush bright pink in return.) Once he knew the food had sunk in, he would head around to the surf rental, tug on his wetsuit and drag his surfboard out into the sands, where Minho would already be waiting for him.

Sure, surfing didn’t come naturally to him. Seungmin knew that much. The thing he did know was that surfing was what made the exhilaration buzzing under his skin proliferate into something he’d never felt before.

The sheer elation he felt riding the crest of a wave, even if it lasted for only a moment, was nothing compared to anything he’d felt before.

“You’re getting better at it,” Minho commented. Evening had fallen on Seungmin’s fifth day there, and with it came the end of an afternoon of surfing.

Seungmin unstrapped the leg rope from around his ankle with a laugh. “Really? I’m glad you noticed,” he teased lightly.

When he straightened up, he noticed Minho casting him a leering stare. “You look good,” he said. “The sea is doing you good.”

Stunned, Seungmin raised a subconscious palm to his cheek. Heat rose up to the apples of his cheeks. “In what way?” he asked, doubtful.

“I don’t know,” Minho admitted. He leaned his surfboard against the fence, his eyes still remaining on Seungmin’s face. “Your face has tanned over. You look… fresher, I guess. Rosy.”

Minho had never been this blunt before. Strangely, even though he was still in his wetsuit, Seungmin felt as if he were stark naked in front of the other man now. It felt as if Minho had stripped away all of the barricades that Seungmin had meticulously built up around himself, all of the walls that Seungmin had carefully constructed to blockade anyone else from prying him open and discovering the truth behind his facade.

He felt vulnerable, but more importantly, he felt seen.

After a drawn-out moment, Seungmin turned away with a sheepish look on his face. “Right,” he muttered. “I’ll just drop my things off and get going then-”

“-There’s a party tonight,” Minho interrupted.

Seungmin wrinkled his nose. “A party? Where?”

“The Snack Shack hosts weekly parties on Fridays,” Minho explained. “If you want, you could bring your friends over. There’s free food and drinks.”

Before Seungmin could say no, a thought niggled away at the back of his mind. For one, he disliked parties, but he also knew his friends would like the prospect of free food. Hell, he would love the prospect of free food served to him on a silver platter. It didn’t make sense to turn down Minho’s offer, especially since he was eyeing Seungmin with a hopeful glimmer in his irises.

“Sure. I’ll ask them.”

The last thing he saw before he turned to walk away was the unadulterated satisfaction in Minho’s smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Wait, so you’re telling me-” Jisung stuffed another gummy worm into his mouth, “-that you’ve been flirting with the cashier from the Snack Shack for the past week?!”

Sighing, Seungmin backed away from the full-length mirror and gave his friend a pointed look. “We’re not flirting, Sungie. We’re just-”

“-Are the both of you dating?” Hyunjin chimed in. He bounced into the living room, dressed to the nines in a billowing white shirt tucked into a pair of skinny jeans. Even his hair was gelled up. “Don’t the both of you go surfing every afternoon?”

Seungmin fumed. “We’re not dating,” he protested. “He just happened to teach me how to surf.”

From where he’s sprawled out on the couch, Felix snorted. “Please. I saw the both of you get out of the water the other day. You were staring at him with heart eyes.”

Knowing there was no use in correcting his friends, Seungmin ignored their bombarding questions and continued to run the comb through his hair. He wasn’t sure what exactly to wear, given the contrast between Hyunjin’s outfit and Jisung’s stained firetruck red tee shirt, so he opted to wear a simple button-down and light blue jeans.

As he examined himself in the mirror, he thought back to Minho’s words earlier. You look fresher. Rosy.

Perhaps he did. The sun had tanned his face a shade or two darker. There was a slight smattering of freckles across his left cheek, all the way up to the bridge of his nose. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was tousled by the salty sea, and his eyes were bright and wavering with a glimmer.

The difference shone through so blatantly, yet Seungmin didn’t even know what to think of it.

“Come on, let’s go,” Hyunjin said, clapping a hand over Seungmin’s back. “You look great, Min-ah, stop combing your hair already.”

Seungmin set the comb down on the dresser and swivelled around. “Okay,” he murmured. “Let’s go.”

It didn’t take much effort for them to navigate their way through the dark. Even from afar, Seungmin could see the blinking technicolour of the fairy lights from the shack. The nearer they got to the restaurant, the louder the bass music boomed from the speakers.

A cacophony of shouts and laughter arose from the sea of people milling around the outdoor dining area. In a fluid motion, Felix detached himself from the group and bounded up to one of the guys leaning against the fence. From the looks of the man’s curly blonde hair and the bright smile on Felix’s face, Seungmin was pleasantly surprised to see the surf rental shop owner’s face light up at the sight of his friend.

The itch to search for Minho amongst the crowd nagged away at Seungmin. He caved in, allowing himself to crane his neck and catch a glimpse of the cashier, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Are you looking for him?”

“No,” Seungmin quipped, much too fast for a truthful answer to be told. He noticed Jisung’s starry eyes staring right at his face. “Jisung, get your face out of my view.”

Jisung sighed. He backed off, but he still gazed at Seungmin inquisitively. “You know,” he said, “I know we’ve been teasing you about him all week, but I swear we mean well.”

“And why is that so?”

Somewhere off the distance, someone blew a cloud of bubbles and sent them floating and floundering towards their direction. Jisung reached out to pop one of them. “I mean… before we came here… I don’t know if it’s just me, but lately you’ve been a little distant.”

Seungmin felt a muscle in his eyebrow twitch.

“When we came down here, though, you ran into that guy you told us about — Minho, right? — and you look so much happier now,” Jisung added. “Not saying you weren’t happy before this, but you look like you’re in your element now.”

One of the waitresses handed them both a cocktail. Seungmin didn’t even care to ask what was in it. He downed the contents of the glass down his throat. It was tangy, sharp, and he would’ve choked on the burning liquid had he not forced it all down his oesophagus.

As he lowered the glass, he peered at Jisung with a thoughtful smile. “Sorry if I made it seem that way,” Seungmin said. “It’s nothing, really.”

Jisung swung an arm around Seungmin’s shoulder and noogied the side of his head. “Tell us when you need to, ‘kay?” he offered. “Though, to be frank with you, I have a feeling all you really needed was Minho.”

“What?”

“Oh, look.” Gently, Jisung tilted Seungmin’s chin to face in the direction of the entranceway. “Here comes your lover boy. I’ll leave you to grind against his dick or something.”

“What- Hey, Jisung! Get your ass back here right now!” Seungmin spluttered, but to no avail. His mischievous friend had slipped into the sea, head bobbing up and down to the beat of the music. With a heavy sigh, Seungmin swirled the empty glass around in his hand and forced his eyes down to the sand.

A pair of sandals appeared in his view. As his heartbeat accelerated, Seungmin glanced up to meet Minho’s eyes.

“You came around,” Minho said.

There was barely any air left in Seungmin’s lungs to breathe. The button-down Minho wore was patterned with palm trees, dangerously unbuttoned down to the top of his abdomen, before the fabric disappeared under the waistband of his black shorts.

Minho was, in quite literally the word, breathtaking.

“I did,” Seungmin whispered.

Minho plucks the wine glass out of Seungmin’s grasp and examines the inside of it. “You didn’t save any for me? Pity,” he muttered, voice dripping with practised disappointment. “I wonder if you’ll get pissed drunk again tonight.”

“Nah.” The memory of Seungmin drunkenly whooping Minho’s ass at air hockey, though, makes the corners of his lips tug upwards. “Not tonight.”

“That’s good.”

The slight change in Minho’s voice was subtle, but after having heard his voice worn frail and thin from shrieking and laughing at Seungmin all week, Seungmin knew something was different. He lifted his head, but not before a palm laid flat against his back and warm breath tickled the shell of his ear. “Meet me by the shoreline at eleven, then.”

As soon as the words left Minho’s lips, he curled back into his height, smiled, and turned on his heel to greet the other guests. He left Seungmin fumbling over his words, unsure of what he could’ve said.

It didn’t take too long for someone to yank him back into reality, though. Soon enough, Hyunjin was tugging him by the sleeve and serenading him with an old 90s ballad from the karaoke machine. He couldn’t help but burst into fitful laughter as Hyunjin flailed his arms around like a balloon man before veering off of the crowd to fall all over a stranger. His friends were strange, but in a lovable kind of way, and Seungmin could only feel adoration for them.

After several rounds of beer pong (all of which Seungmin miserably lost), he caught a sight of the clock hanging on the wall of the shack. 10:49. He heard Minho’s voice resonate in his mind, and before he could think it over, he was shuffling out of the shack and towards the edge of the beach.

Seungmin squinted. He could barely make out the silhouette of Minho sitting on the sand, legs sprawled out in front of him. Under the feeble moonlight, he looked a little ethereal.

Somewhere deep in his mind, Seungmin wondered where Minho had been all this time.

“I was wondering when you were coming,” Minho announced.

Seungmin chuckled. He settled down onto the sand beside Minho with a breathless sigh. “It’s not eleven yet, though.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t wonder.”

Minho hadn’t turned to look at the other yet. Instead, he laid down onto his back and folded his arms under his head. “Lie down.”

“Lie down?” Seungmin sputtered. “On the sand? Do you remember when that crab appeared out of nowhere and bit my ankle yesterday?”

“Just lie down, dumbass.”

Defeated, Seungmin shifted his weight and awkwardly placed his head against the gritty sand. “What are we even doing here, anyways-”

“-Look up."

Confused, Seungmin casted his gaze to the dark sky. And he understood.

Overhead, the velvet tarp of the night engulfed the sky as far as the eye could see. Sewn into the blanket were stars — and so, so many of them. They were bright, glistening, and gleamed with the might of a millennium as they shone down upon the two of them. The moon hung in the sky, beckoning them to touch the smooth curve of its waning crescent.

And Seungmin did.

Subconsciously, his arm extended out into the depths of the void. He was desperate to touch the moon, but so was Minho.

When their fingers grazed against each other, it was a shower of sparks and shooting stars.

“Sorry!” Seungmin blurted. “I didn’t mean to-”

His voice vanished from his throat when he felt Minho’s fingers intertwine with his own. Warmth emanated from Minho’s hand, seeping through the pores and gushing through the vessels and rushing to Seungmin’s heart.

Even with the heat, Seungmin could only shiver in response.

Minho smiled. The centremost of his pupils sparkled, like a diamond chiselled into granite. “It’s okay,” he murmured. A squeeze of Seungmin’s hand was all the reassurance he needed, and Seungmin could only speechlessly nod.

Quiet, Minho lowered their hands to the ground without ever letting go of the other’s hand. His thumb began tracing circles along Seungmin’s knuckle, slow and stately, yet the younger man’s heart was a spluttering machine winded and out of steam.

The strange dichotomy between the both of them seemed almost chimeric now, Seungmin thought.

“I come down here often,” Minho explained. “Whenever I think I’ve got too much to do in your life, I drive down here sometimes and look up at the stars. It reminds me that all the problems and matters in my life are incomparable to the expanding Universe beyond us, don’t you think?”

Seungmin didn’t know what to say. All he could do was hum in agreement.

“I would’ve brought my telescope along with me if I’d known I would run into you,” Minho continued. He chuckled. “But I suppose the reality isn’t too bad, either.”

A whirl of emotions kicked up into a tornado inside of Seungmin’s chest. What?

It felt like Minho had led Seungmin into another world, a world where Minho wasn’t pretending at all, a world where they were both strangers who found comfort in holding each other’s hands. It felt strange, and exhilarating, and real.

This was real.

“Do you have another story?” Seungmin asked.

Minho knitted his eyebrows together. “Another story?”

“You know,” Seungmin said, with a noncommittal wave of his free hand. “I told you my story the last time we met. Don’t you think it’s your turn now?”

“Ah, you lawyers,” Minho sighed. “Always fighting for righteousness and justice and all of that legal crap.”

“Would our country have peace and order without ‘all that legal crap’, then?”

“Dunno,” Minho answered plainly. “You tell me.”

Of course. Seungmin should’ve figured out sooner. There was no way he could get a rise out of Minho at all. He was about to slip his hand away from Minho’s when the latter spoke. “I’ve always wanted to go stargazing.”

A beat of silence followed, and then Minho continued, “There’s too much light pollution in the city, of course, and I was too busy in my younger years to head out to the beach. When my cousin asked for my help at the shack five years ago, I agreed almost immediately, because I knew I would see the stars. And I was right.

“It’s a constant reminder,” Minho added. “That even if people fade into and out of your life, the stars are always there for you.”

The irony was uncanny. A thousand thoughts whizzed through Seungmin’s mind, but the question that threatened to break free from his head was Then why do you keep leaving?

Instead, it was Seungmin’s turn to squeeze Minho’s hand back. It felt like a secret exchanged between them, hidden away from even their own eyes, too nervous to watch the way Seungmin’s fingertip encircled Minho’s worn knuckle.

“Your turn,” Minho said.

Seungmin tilted his head even higher up the sky. “Once upon a time-”

“-There is no ‘once upon a time’, Min. You’re only twenty-five-”

“-A boy who grew up in Seoul had always wanted to come down to the beach,” Seungmin continued, ignoring the taunting nudge of his elbow. “He wanted to taste the salty air and touch the cold waters of the sea. When he finally did head out to the beach, he sat on the sand the entire day, and burnt to a crisp because he forgot to apply sunscreen.”

Minho snorted. “That must’ve been awful,” he pointed out.

“It was.” A smile tickled at Seungmin’s lips. “I didn’t care, though. There’s something so good knowing you’re at the edge where the land meets the sea.”

They fell into silence once more, hushed by the rush of the tide licking away at the sand. Minho shifted around in his place, until their arms were touching. Seungmin couldn’t even focus on the stars anymore. “Now that I think about it,” Minho said slowly, “I feel like we’ve traded places. I’ve always thought you’d be the sentimental kind to love stargazing and shit like that.”

“I thought you asked me to come down here so you’d push me into the water.”

“I could,” Minho chirped. When he turned to see the apprehensive look on Seungmin’s face, he dropped the act with a guffaw. “I think you’d contract hypothermia, though.”

“I would,” Seungmin muttered. “So don’t even think about it.”

Another squeeze. “I won’t.”

And once more. “Okay.”

Their palms were sweaty, but Seungmin didn’t mind. They were lulled to calmness by the sea waves crashing onto the shore, by the moon and the stars that graced them with their presence. They stayed there holding their hands for a long, long time, just two strangers and their beating hearts and their souls intertwined.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Seungmin awoke the next morning, he swore the warmth from yesterday hadn’t yet disappeared from the palm of his hand. He smiled, staring at the traces along the skin there, and curled his fingers into a fist.

Even if the sensory effects of the touch were ephemeral, its lingering effect in Seungmin’s memory remained untouched, unscathed by time.

There was a skip in his steps as he hurried along to the surfer rental. His sandals slapped against the sand, kicking up dust, but for once he didn’t mind. By the time he skidded to a stop at the entryway, he was panting out of breath. His breaths came long and deep, and with one last draw of an inhale, he braved the distance and shoved the door open.

“Hi, Chan-hyung,” Seungmin greeted.

The owner swivelled around so sharply, Seungmin thought the joints in his neck would crack. “Oh! Seungmin,” he blurted. He carried a sheepish smile on his face. “You’ve never come down here in the mornings before.”

“I was thinking of getting a head start today,” Seungmin explained.

As he approached the counter, though, he realised that the look on Chan’s face was not out of shyness, but in fact uneasiness. He frowned. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, tentative.

Chan scratched the nape of his neck awkwardly. “Ah, I’m not sure how to explain this…”

“What?”

“Well…” Chan walked around the counter and headed to the surfboards leaning against the entire length of the wall. He patted the blue-and-white longboard, the one Seungmin had been rented for the week, and said, “This is yours now.”

The words didn’t seem to sink in. “Huh?” Seungmin croaked. “I’m only renting it until tomorrow, hyung.”

Chan turned, carding a hand through his hair. “Someone bought it for you. Asked me to pass it to you today.”

Out of all the people Seungmin knew, there was only one of them who could’ve possibly bought the surfboard for him, but… No. It couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be. “Minho-hyung?”

Chan gave a slight nod.

“Why?” Seungmin asked. “You know what, hyung, I’ll go ask Minho-hyung first. Surely there must be some misunderstanding or something, and-”

“-You can’t,” Chan said. “Because he’s gone.”

It felt like falling off of a cliff.

No, worse — this felt like being shoved off of a cliff, into a bottomless pit where the end never seemed to come. He could feel the lurch of his stomach, the tightened knot unravelling and spilling into nothing. “Gone?”

“Yeah.” Now, Chan couldn’t even meet Seungmin’s eyes. “He came by this morning and bought it, then he said he was leaving.”

“For where?” Seungmin demanded. When he didn’t receive an answer, frustration boiled over. “For where?”

“I don’t know,” Chan sighed. “Look, Seungmin, just take the surfboard, okay? He wanted you to have it.”

Seungmin didn’t even realise tears had welled up in his eyes until his blurred vision cleared. He sniffed, rubbing the back of his palm across his eyes. “He didn’t say anything,” he whispered. “He didn’t say anything.”

For a while, all that filled the tension in the shop was the rhythmic clicking of the fan, and the insistent sniffling from Seungmin. He couldn’t believe it, and the worst part was that Seungmin should’ve known. He should’ve known from the start, that Lee Minho was a man tethered to no one and nothing at all, and that he would step out from his life once more.

He didn’t even know why he was crying. Weren’t they only strangers?

“If it makes you feel any better,” Chan whispered, “that’s sort of Minho’s nature. He.... he comes and goes.”

Seungmin swallowed the last of his tears. “He didn’t even say bye to me.”

“Yeah.”

“He didn’t give me his contact details, or tell me whether we’d meet again. He didn’t say anything.”

“I know.”

Seungmin sealed his eyes shut. Somehow, for the past week of his life, Minho had crept back into his life and remained there for longer than ever before. He could still remember the press of Minho’s hand against his back, the rosiness of Minho’s smile as he guided Seungmin through the waters.

None of that felt real anymore.

“He left a note, though.”

Startled, Seungmin dared to open his eyes and see the sticky note taped to the deck of the surfboard. He cautiously stepped closer to it, and plucked the paper off of the plastic.

The stars are always there for you.

At that point in time, Seungmin thought that was the last time he’d ever see Minho again. Strangely enough, fate seemed to have other plans in store for him. Fate was as fickle as time, but perhaps it would mend his broken heart someday.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

FOUR: AUGUST 2024

You and I have never met
But whenever we happen to come across each other

The fourth time he met Lee Minho, he knew exactly what to expect. (Then again, reality seemed crueller than his imagination.)

A click resounded through the garage, now conformed into a temporary studio room. Satisfied, Seungmin lowered his camera and nodded up at Changbin. “I’ve taken around twenty photos for her already. We can get the next one in.”

With a relieved sigh, Changbin brushed his bangs out of his eyes and bent down to the ground. “It’s about damn time. She keeps running around everywhere, I swear I don’t know what we feed her.”

Seungmin could only laugh at the comical way Changbin seemed to wrestle the corgi away from the chew toy left slobbered on the floor. “She’s a cutie, though,” he cooed.

“Agreed,” Changbin grunted. “That doesn’t mean her cuteness makes up for her pranks, though. Do you know how hard it is to scrub dog pee out of that couch outside?”

As the man left the room while balancing the dog in his arms, Seungmin couldn’t help but shake his head with laughter. He glanced back down at his camera and flipped through the photos in his gallery. The corgi, with her floppy ears and glimmering eyes, seemed to wink back at the camera lens in some frames, and that brought a smile to his lips.

Two weeks before the second semester started up, Jisung had pulled Seungmin to the side with a black-and-white poster in his hands. “Look, Min-ah,” he urged. “The animal shelter down our street’s hiring a photographer to help promote animal adoption! That’s the perfect job for you.”

“I’m not a professional cameraman, Sungie.”

“Pleeeease,” Jisung had whimpered. He’d clasped his hands together and keeled over on the floor, knees banging against the marble floor. “Changbin-hyung is driving me crazy. He keeps pestering me to help him find someone, anyone, to do the job, and the photos you took of us at the beach were really good! Please do this for me, Minnie.”

Intrigued, Seungmin had tapped his foot against the ground while mulling over his choices. “Free fried chicken for a month.”

“Holy shit, Seungmin, I can’t just-” His friend’s eyelashes fluttered close, before peeling open again. “Fine! Yes! Whatever you wish, Your Damned Highness!”

Changbin turned out to be rather friendly, showing Seungmin around Paw’s Help. Even if he sometimes struggled to chase all the dogs back into their room after bathing them, he seemed to adore all the animals at the shelter.

When the door to the makeshift studio creaked open again, Seungmin exited the gallery and began adjusting the settings on the side of the device. “You said this one’s a golden retriever, right?” he asked, snapping a photo of the ground to inspect the brightness. “We could have him standing against the white wall off by the side.”

There wasn’t any response from Changbin, though. Frowning, Seungmin glanced up.

As soon as he did, though, he almost dropped the camera in his hands.

Standing by the door was none other than Lee Minho. It took a considerable amount of time to take him in, but when the realisation settled into his bones, Seungmin felt his legs turn into jelly. He looked… different. His hair was dyed a dark shade of pink. He was wearing a fuzzy sweater over light blue jeans, but the smile on his face was still the same.

“Minho?” Seungmin choked.

Minho let out a breathless laugh. “That’s Minho-hyung to you,” he corrected. “How many times have I said that?”

The anger that Seungmin had been keeping well contained for the past few weeks instantly flared up into a fire. “You,” he hissed. He scrambled to his feet, still clutching onto his camera with pale knuckles. “Where the hell did you go?”

“Me?” Minho blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Seungmin retorted. “You didn’t even tell me you were leaving Mallipo that day. You just… left.”

Unfazed, Minho shuffled into the room, hands idly tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “Was I supposed to be obliged to tell you?” he asked smoothly. “I thought you said we were strangers.”

“Strangers still say goodbye to each other when they leave,” Seungmin spat. “You didn’t.”

“To begin with, your definition of ‘strangers’ is rather peculiar, isn’t it?’ Minho said.

There was nothing Seungmin could protest against that, so he kept his mouth clamped shut. Before Minho could say anything else, though, Changbin bustled into the room with a whistle, a golden retriever hot on his heels. “Come on in, Pillie — oh, that’s a good boy, come right in- Oh, hyung!”

Changbin sauntered across the room and slapped Minho on the back. “Hyung! You didn’t tell me you were dropping by today,” he grinned.

Minho exchanged a glance between Seungmin and Changbin, before smiling thinly at the latter. “I thought it would be best to swing by earlier,” he explained. “I’ve got a project to start on next weekend, so it’s best to pick her up today.”

“Sure, sure,” Changbin bellowed. “Make yourself comfy first, though. We’re doing a photoshoot for the dogs today. Pillie’s our last star of the day, and Seungmin here is my star photographer! Seungmin, hyung here is a customer of ours, though he sadly doesn’t like dogs very much.”

The mixed emotions tugging away at Seungmin’s chest were deafeningly loud. He tightened his grip on the camera and plastered a smile across his face. His cheeks hurt from the pressure. “Let’s wrap this up quickly, then.”

It only took a couple of tries to convince Pillie to remain on the spot against the white background. Even whilst his concentration was focused on the viewfinder, Seungmin could still sense Minho staring right at him, as if searing a hole into the side of his face. By the time he finished snapping the last photo, he’d realised he had been holding his breath the entire time.

“It’s a little hot in this room, isn’t it?” Changbin pointed out. “Must be why you’re all red, Seungmin-ah. You can head out to the lounge area, and you too, hyung! I’ll just try to get Pillie back into his room- Pillie! Get back here this instance, you sneak!”

As Changbin dashed out of the studio room on yet another chase for the dog, Seungmin couldn’t help but avert his gaze towards Minho. With every passing second, the urge to ask more questions bubbled underneath his skin.

He hadn’t realised how much he had been hurting this whole time.

Minho peered back at the other man. “You want to talk outside?” he suggested.

When it came to Minho, it never took much effort to convince Seungmin. He could only nod back, and wait for Minho to leave the room, before he groaned and sunk down against the linoleum floor.

By the time he managed to shuffle into the lounge area, Minho was already pouring two glasses of lemonade and setting them onto the wooden tabletop. As if he’d noticed Seungmin in his peripheral vision, Minho glimpsed up to meet the other’s eyes with a warm grin. “Changbin said one of the cats started attacking their worker. Can’t tell for sure what’s going on back there, but he asked us to wait.”

Seungmin nodded stiffly. He plopped down onto an armchair, holding his camera bag close to his chest.

At the small gesture, Minho’s eyes flicked down to the canvas bag. “I suppose you’re the photographer Changbin has been bugging me to help find?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Seungmin said. “It’s nothing professional, though. It’s just a small favour.”

“Hm. I’m glad you’re doing something you like.”

The fire only continued to burn, flames licking away at Seungmin’s heart. He couldn’t cause an outburst here, not right now, but the urge only seemed to grow. “I guess.”

Tension filled the space between them. It was tough to be in the same space as a stranger, but even tougher to be in the same space as a not-so-stranger stranger. There was too much time transcending between them, too many untied knots and untangled twines binding the both of them together and apart at the exact same time.

Minho took a sip of his lemonade, but not before asking, “Did you like it?”

“Like what?”

Minho chuckled. “The surfboard.”

“I chucked it,” Seungmin lied. He wasn’t too sure why he lied. The surfboard was leaning against the wall of his bedroom as he spoke. He even wiped it down on Fridays to keep the dust from feeding upon its deck.

“Liar,” Minho shot. “You fidget with your fingers whenever you lie.”

“When else have I lied to you?” Seungmin demanded.

A glint passed Minho’s eyes. “When you said you didn’t know yourself.”

The memory was fading away, but some parts of it were retained in place. Seungmin wasn’t sure what to think. “I wasn’t lying then.”

“Then the person I met down at the beach must’ve been someone different,” Minho concluded.

Minho was an enigma personified. He acted like he didn’t understand Seungmin, but he did. He acted like he didn’t listen to Seungmin, but he did. He acted like he didn’t care, but he did.

Who was Lee Minho really?

“There’s nothing different about me,” Seungmin insisted. “And you don’t get to say that after everything you did.”

“And what did I do?”

Frustrated, Seungmin grinded his teeth together. “You didn’t tell me you were going to buy the surfboard for me. You didn’t tell me you were leaving.”

“There was something that I had to attend to-”

“-Even after that night?” Seungmin retorted. “That night, when you told me we’d meet the next morning? When you told me we’d go surfing at high tide?”

The memory was clear as day. (“Min-ah,” Minho said, as he helped Seungmin back up to his feet. “Let’s surf at high tide tomorrow morning, okay?”

He should’ve known from the reddened ears, but Seungmin didn’t know any better back then. “Okay.”)

And yet, the promise was as inky as night.

For once, Minho didn’t say anything back. His mouth didn’t budge an inch. Instead, he turned his head to face the doors lining the length of the corridor. His ears burnt almost as brightly as the fire beneath Seungmin’s skin.

The both of them were saved by the bell — or, in this case, Changbin. “Look, hyung!” he shouted. He bounded into the room carrying a cat in his arms, its tail curling out to swipe along Changbin’s shirt. “Let me begin by saying that watching him cough up, like, a dozen hairballs was not only disgusting, but a huge fucking hassle to clean, so I hope you’re prepared to handle this little demon of a kitten.”

Seungmin peered at the kitten. He was small, smaller than most kittens he’d set his eyes upon. Yet, his eyes darted around with rapt attention, a pair of green-golden orbs that were speckled with silver flecks of lights. He snarled at Changbin, who squeaked as he cautiously placed the kitten down onto the carpeted floor.

When Seungmin turned to look at Minho, he was surprised to see Minho widening his eyes at the sight of the kitten. He slipped down from the armchair and raised his arms out towards the cat. “Hi, Dori,” he whispered. “Can you come over here? Please?”

Seungmin swore this man was a cat whisperer, because Dori angled his head back and sniffled a little at the sight of his new owner. After a few tentative steps, he leapt right into Minho’s arms and snaked his tail around Minho’s torso.

Changbin looked especially vexed. “I can’t believe this kitten just betrayed me under my own damned roof,” he huffed. “He can’t spend even one minute with me, and here he is, rubbing all over you, hyung.”

“What can I say?” Minho giggled. He giggled. He was beaming like a kid on Christmas Day. “I’m sure Dori likes me much more than you do.”

“Whatever,” Changbin grumbled. “I’ll be out front with the cat carrier. Come out when you’re done.”

Once again, he left the both of them (and now, well, the cat) alone in the room.

Unsure of what to do, Seungmin bent down to admire the cat. “You adopted him?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Minho nodded. He stroked in between Dori’s ears, and it was clear the kitten loved it; he only seemed to curl himself even closer to Minho’s body, until there was barely any space between them anymore. He was leaving all his cat hair clinging onto Minho’s shirt, but the owner didn’t seem to mind the slightest bit.

“How many did you say you adopted before?” Seungmin questioned. “One?”

Shocked, Minho gaped back at Seungmin. “How dare you?” he wailed. “Two cats! I adopted two cats!”

Seungmin’s mind could only draw a blank line. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t,” Minho agreed. “Because you simply forgot.”

Now it was Seungmin’s turn to roll his eyes.

Minho didn’t look like he was making any moves to leave. He was settled with his back leaning against the armchair, hands scratching behind Dori’s ears or rubbing the underside of Dori’s belly. He looked so relaxed in this state, shaggy hair covering half his eyes as he peered down and made weird noises that didn’t have any correlation at all to the feline language, but Dori didn’t really seem to mind.

“Can I tell you a story?”

Seungmin was still angry. He was angry at Minho for leaving, for leaving every trace of his omnipresence behind in Seungmin’s wake, but more importantly, he was sad, and frustrated, and curious.

“Go ahead,” Minho whispered, his eyes never leaving Dori’s fur.

“Once upon a time-”

“-Oh, here we go again-”

“-There was a boy who was scared of dogs,” Seungmin continued, still hesitant. “He was scared of them, because a neighbour’s dog once chased him down the block and almost bit him in the leg.”

Amusement crossed Minho’s face. “Interesting.”

“Since he was five, he made sure never to come too close to dogs,” Seungmin said. “One day, though, he was wandering around in the park alone when he heard a whimper from under the slide. He peeked underneath to see an injured dog curled up, all alone, its leg twisted and broken.

“He was scared, but he knew the dog would not bite him, because the dog was at its most vulnerable point. And he wanted the dog to trust him. So he helped the dog out from under the slide and carried him all the way to the vet.”

Minho gazed at Seungmin with interest. “Did you adopt it?”

“I couldn’t,” Seungmin replied. “I lived in an apartment, and they didn’t allow pets.”

“That’s a pity,” Minho said. “You love dogs now, don’t you?”

Seungmin chuckled. “I thought that was inevitable, hyung.”

Their shared laughter eventually fizzled off when Minho understood the underlying meaning of Seungmin’s words. The smile faded from Minho’s face. “Why’re you telling me this, Seungmin? Aren’t you mad at me?”

“I am,” Seungmin answered. “More importantly, I kind of missed you.”

There. The truth he’d been hiding under the crevices of his heart was unveiled. Even if Seungmin would curse Minho every day for leaving him stranded alone on the beach, he could not curse the days they’d spent together: the day they’d spent surfing together, teasing and joking together, laying down against the sand and gazing at the stars together.

Something knocked against Seungmin’s chest, loud and persistent, and he realised with a faltering smile that it was his heart.

There were some things neither of them could hide. For Seungmin, it was the truth. For Minho, it was his blush. “You’re confusing, Seungmin-ah. One moment, you tell me you’re mad at me, and the next, you’re saying you miss me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were obsessed with me.”

A hand darted out to ruffle up Minho’s hair, but the latter had faster reflexes. “Truce, truce! Yah, if you hurt me, you’ll hurt Dori, too!” he whined.

This time, there had been no reason for Seungmin to share another story with Minho. But Seungmin knew the weight of his words, and he knew Minho knew the weight of his words, too. By the time they walked out of the animal shelter and into the bright sunshine, with Dori resting in the cat carrier, Minho finally said, “I kind of missed you too.”

Seungmin paused. “You did?”

Minho smiled, and it was as rapturous as the sun. It was the sort of smile that lured Seungmin closer dangerously, for he worried he would be blinded by the sight of it. Then again, studies had shown that staring at the sun for less than eight seconds would still allow him to admire the beauty of it all, and so he did. “Yeah, I did.”

Before Minho could leave one last time, though, Seungmin asked one last question. “Then why did you leave?”

It took a moment for Minho to think over the question. Dori’s tail flicked out of the cage, curious for an answer, too.

“Maybe I didn’t want to leave,” Minho answered, voice low and ominous. His smile remained fixated on his face, but it seemed sadder now. “Maybe I wanted to stay.”

That was all Seungmin received before Minho turned his back onto him and walked down the pavement, leaving Seungmin alone with more questions in one hand, his heart squeezed in another.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

FIVE: SEPTEMBER 2024

Sometime in the future,
When our paths meet
Let us recognise each other

The fifth time he met Lee Minho, he hadn’t expected it coming at all.

“Look here, fellas, here’s the plan,” Jisung hissed. “I’ve checked our surroundings, and the coast is clear. Well, not really, because there’s a bunch of security guards swarming all around the place, but that’s not the point here. Anyways, there’s a metal fence at the back of the park, and if we could manage to get each other up and over the fence, we’ll be able to raid that fucking festival, for free. Sure, if we get kicked out of there for eternity, that’s another story to tell, but right now-”

“-I bought us tickets!” Felix announced, brandishing four paper tickets in front of them all.

Jisung paused. “What?” he spluttered. “What?! How could you foil my master plan, my dearest and most trustworthy aide Felix Lee Yongbok-”

“-You bought tickets to the Dance Festival 2024?” Hyunjin gasped. “How?”

Even Seungmin was intrigued. He lowered his now empty bowl of ramen and stared on in amazement as Felix started fanning himself with the tickets. “I may have gotten some connections,” he said, with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.

“And by connections, we’re talking about your dreamy summer fling, right- Ow, ow, Hyunjin, stop stepping on my foot!” he groaned.

Hyunjin plastered on a saccharine sweet smile. “Continue, Felix.”

Flushing, Felix stuttered over his words before continuing. “Well, anyways, he might’ve hassled the staff there to sell the tickets on half price on the last day of sales, so I managed to get them.”

“It was your birthday yesterday, Lix,” Seungmin muttered. “You really shouldn’t have.”

“But it’s your birthday next week!” Hyunjin roared.

Jisung slurped up the last of his ramen with an eager nod. “Cwonswider it yer bwirfdie gawft!”

“What?”

Once Jisung had swallowed down the last of his ramen and ripped a loud belch (“Ew,” Hyunjin groaned, making an effort to fan Jisung’s breath away from him. Seungmin couldn’t imagine sitting directly opposite of Jisung whenever they ate), he said, “Consider it your birthday gift!”

Seungmin chuckled feebly. “You all know I don’t dance,” he protested. “I’m only going because we’ve got tickets now.”

“You were going to back out of my master plan?!” Jisung gawked. “I hate you, Kim Seungmin.”

“Love you too, Han Jisung.”

In a dramatic flourish, Hyunjin clasped onto Seungmin’s hands laid on the table and yanked them towards him. The angle was a little uncomfortable, but Seungmin couldn’t argue when his friend was reeling him close with a tearful sob. “Come on, Minnie. I’m sure you’ll love it! You don’t even have to be good at dancing. They’ll be showcasing a couple of dance teams, and then it’s a free-for-all! They have free food!”

“And cheesecake!” Jisung added.

Unsure of what to add on, Felix shouted, “Yeah!”

“You guys,” Seungmin laughed. “I can’t say no to y’all, can I?”

When his friends beamed at him, he could only grin back at them.

Things had shifted between them after their trip to Mallipo Beach, and for the better, too. On the second last night of their stay, Seungmin, who had then felt betrayed and angered but mostly upset, had poured his heart out to his friends. No matter how small he felt the matter was, he still admitted to his friends about the times he’d felt alone all by himself. It had taken a couple of tears shed from Hyunjin and a chest-squeezing group hug to strengthen the bonds between them.

This time, Seungmin relented to his friends.

That’s how he found himself standing before the full-length mirror the following evening, tugging on the hem of his jean jacket. He wasn’t sure if he was over- or under-dressed for the occasion. How did people even dress for a dance festival?

“We get that you’re fly as hell right now, Min-ah,” Jisung called from outside his bedroom. “But we’re going to be late if you keep ogling yourself in the mirror!”

An hour later, Felix’s car pulled up to the lot overlooking the park. It hadn’t occurred to Seungmin that the park could be transformed into a festival plaza. Through the metal fence, he could make out a platform designed to become a makeshift stage. There were streamers strung across the expanse of the area, and balloons bouncing along the ground from where they had dropped from the lamp posts lining the walkways.

Jisung slammed the door shut, much to his friend’s chagrin. “Sungie, this is my dad’s,” Felix winced. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t treat it as a piece of junk.”

“What?” Jisung shouted over the booming bass music. “I can’t hear you!”

The music was loud. As they approached the gateway, Seungmin noticed the speakers positioned all around the park. The bass rattled deep in his eardrums, and he could even feel it echoing in the cave of his heart.

After they’d shown their tickets, they were ushered into the park. Dozens of people were milling around the space, some holding different refreshments, others already beginning to dance to the music. It was like stepping into an otherworldly universe, Seungmin realised, when he noticed how much he felt out of place there.

“Come on, Seungmin!” Felix cheered. He jostled Seungmin along, weaving their way through the crowd. “I think Channie-hyung is somewhere over there. He said he wanted to see you, too!”

Even if Seungmin didn’t enjoy the loud, thumping music, or the stench of sweat mixed with alcohol lingering in the air, he had to admit that he relished in the company. He met Chan again, exchanging a few words politely with him before Hyunjin overtook and shimmied Seungmin towards the front of the park area.

“There’s a few dance groups who’ll be performing,” Hyunjin explained. “I looked them up online, and they’re all, like, real professionals.”

Seungmin sighed. He was already feeling drained from the synergy of it all. He couldn’t argue against his friend, though, not when the stage lights dimmed and a chorus of ooh’s and aah’s resounded throughout the park. A group of dancers scurried along the stage to their positions, and when the technicolour lights flicked back on, a bass-heavy beat pounded from the speakers.

The slight night breeze rushes through the air, sending pink splotches blooming on Seungmin’s cheeks. As he reaches a hand out to press against them, he realises, with burning awareness, that someone in that group looked far too familiar to be a stranger.

Minho.

The dance sparked with boundless energy. The group moved in a fluid motion, as if they weren’t a dozen individuals clumped together on stage, but rather a dragon’s body twisting and turning to the beat of the song. Almost none of them stood out except for the man, up front and centre.

Even under his sweaty bangs, Seungmin could pinpoint the tips of those pink ears anywhere at all. His teeth were gritted together as he moved with perfect timing to the beat of the song. His charisma overflowed with every gesture he executed.

He was the light, and Seungmin was an innocent moth.

The song ended almost as abruptly as it had started. As the crowd roared into applause, and as the group huddled together for a bow, and as Seungmin put his two fingers into his mouth and whistled loud and clear, he watched Minho’s head turn to the direction of the sound with a blissful smile on his face.

When he recognised Seungmin amongst the faceless crowd, though, his smile faltered.

“Seungmin?” Hyunjin called. “Seungmin, where’re you going? Aren’t you gonna watch the other- Seungmin!”

His muscles moved faster than his brain could process. He slipped into and out of the gaps between the packed crowd, burrowing his way through every crack and crevice he could find. As he resurfaced from the sea of people, his eyes darted toward the back of the makeshift stage. Several other dozen people were stretching or practising at the back, tinny music streaming from someone’s phone.

Seungmin’s eyes flicked back and forth in a pendulum, sweeping the vicinity. When he noticed a man slinking off to the other side of the area, he immediately took off straight for Minho.

“Minho?” he shouted. “Minho!”

With nowhere else to run, Minho stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly.

His sweaty bangs clung to his forehead. His makeup was ruined from the sweat, but his eyes still shimmered as brightly as the day they first met. “Seungmin. Hey.”

Seungmin skidded to a halt in front of Minho. He searched for some sort of resignation in the man’s eyes, and found none. “You were running away from me,” he stated.

“I wasn’t,” Minho said. “I was gonna go get a drink.”

Defeated, Seungmin frowned. “You didn’t tell me you still danced,” he murmured. “You told me you stopped.”

Minho wore an uneasy look on his face. “You’re a fool, Seungmin-ah,” he averred. “Didn’t I say our stories didn’t have to be real?”

“I know what you said back then,” Seungmin said. “But I also know what I saw just now. The way you danced on stage. The way you were in the moment on stage. I know what I saw was true.”

He hadn’t even realised he’d taken ahold of Minho’s shoulders. The muscle underneath his hands shifted and undulated, a sign of Minho wanting them off. With a sheepish smile, Seungmin slipped his hands off. “I know what I saw,” he repeated. “What I saw was not a lie.”

“Maybe it was,” Minho hissed. “Maybe everything you saw was a lie. You don’t know me, Seungmin-ah, so you don’t get to assume anything about me.”

During all those weeks that Minho had left Seungmin’s life, he’d thought he didn’t know who Minho was at all. Yet, he knew what he saw. He knew the man who left a pebble in his hand was real, that the man who waved him off at the bus stop was real, that the man who held his waist under the waters was real, that the man who stroked a kitten’s chin was real.

All of that was real. All of Minho was real.

He realised, with a stuttering heartbeat, how he had fallen in love with all of Minho.

“I don’t,” Seungmin whispered. “I don’t know who you are. You keep entering my life and leaving it, over and over again.”

“I come and go as freely as I wish,” Minho stated. “What gives?”

A round of applause erupted from somewhere at the front of the stage. He thought about the smile on Minho’s face, how there was no trace of his cockiness, or his brazenness, but only genuine love. “You looked good up there,” Seungmin admitted. “Wild and free.”

Minho didn’t say anything. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and turned away. “I need a drink for this,” he grumbled. He walked off, but not without Seungmin trailing behind him.

The night was still young, so Seungmin figured that time would be by his side. Minho didn’t say anything else to him as he poured himself some juice and downed it in one shot. When he realised Seungmin wasn’t going anywhere, he lowered his glass warily. “You’re infuriating,” Minho grumbled.

Seungmin could only shrug.

“What’s your deal?” Minho asked. “You know I’ve lied to you. Aren’t you angry right now? Or sad?”

“You said it yourself,” Seungmin pointed out. “You said our stories didn’t have to be real.”

Minho faltered a little. He scrunched his eyebrows together. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

His fingers ran along the rim of his glass. “Did you mean it when you said I looked good up there?”

“I only speak the truth, hyung.”

Minho gave a pointed look at him. “For someone who’s studying law, you’re awfully naive.”

Feeling a little braver, Seungmin took a step closer. “Naivety gets you places sometimes, you know.”

“Like where?”

Seungmin plucked the glass from Minho’s hand and set it back on the refreshments table. His eyes trailed back to Minho’s, searching for an answer in those dilated pupils. All he saw were a thousand stories he held far beyond Seungmin’s reach, but eventually, they fizzled out into only one. A truth, a vulnerable, unguarded truth, that threatened to implode under the barricades that Minho had held up for so long.

“Like here.”

He grazed Minho’s cheek with his hand softly, tenderly, and leaned in. To his great astonishment, Minho was the one who sealed the distance between them and let their lips meet. The stirring of emotions caged in Seungmin’s heart exploded into a thousand fragments, an earth-shattering intensity that left him briefly gorgeous.

It felt like nothing he’d ever felt before, but Seungmin knew that feeling only came around when he was with no one else but Minho.

The tread of the waters deepened into a dive, and Minho’s hands rushed up to the nape of Seungmin’s neck. He kissed Seungmin with the ferocity of a thousand lies, and Seungmin could only drown in them all. When they resurfaced, the light of the truth in Minho’s eyes was as clear as day.

Seungmin realised that Minho’s fingers were trembling. “You’re so stupid, Seungmin.”

“Sure, sure.” Seungmin smiled, before closing the distance between them again. They fell against each other then and there, amidst the hustle and bustle of awful music and indecipherable shouts and screams. Somewhere in the distance, fireworks began exploding.

He realised, with burning contempt, that he felt alive. He realised that he knew what he wanted, and what he needed in this life. He wanted to raise his head to speak, but Minho swallowed his voice with a lick of his mouth.

Back then, he should’ve taken it as a warning, rather than a gift. He should’ve known that when Minho pulled back and said he had to go, that the man would never come back into his life. He should’ve known that when Minho had grasped onto his wrist and kissed his palm, that he’d leave the last trace of him there.

Fate was fickle, and so was time, and maybe fate would never heal his broken heart. Maybe time would never cure his burning wounds. In this life, Seungmin could only wait and see.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

+ONE: DECEMBER 2024

Stay as you are,
So I can know that it’s you

Seungmin wonders. He wonders that if he’d done things differently, he wouldn’t feel so alone.

Winter is cold and relentless. The night breeze is even more callous, whipping through the naked branches of the trees flanking either side of the roads, and ruffling up Seungmin’s hair. He wraps his coat tighter around his body, and yanks his mask higher up his nose.

He shuffles across the pedestrian crossing with his hands in his pockets, and towards the bridge.

Flashes of colours blend into the flurry of white snow falling all around him. Cars stir up the sludge alongside the pavement, and Seungmin narrowly misses an onslaught of freezing cold. He shivers under the coat, but convinces him to walk a little further — after all, he’s almost there.

The Han River cascades beyond the lengths that his eyes can see. The water rushes and gurgles, though slower than in the summers, the waves licking along both sides of its gorge. The waves remind Seungmin of summer, and the summer that brought another man into his life, before he left for good.

Seoul could only be so huge, but after a month of two, Seungmin had given up on searching for good.

He traces a gloved finger along the railing, caked with layers of snow. He brushed a few speckles of them off of the metal, sending them soaring below and dipping into the waters. He could lie and say he doesn’t know what compelled him to come here, but sadly, Seungmin only ever speaks the truth.

The memories he held of Minho had turned as fickle as time, but Seungmin knows it’s for the best.

He hears the crunch of snow against the ground. He turns to see the other lonely person walking along the bridge in this frigid cold, and when he realises who it is under the storm, his heart almost stops.

“Minho,” he says.

Minho peers up from the ground, and for once, even he’s startled to see Seungmin before his eyes. His hair is inky black, the white snow atop his head crowning his face. He’s all bundled up as well, but Seungmin can make out the pink ears that poke out from his scarf. “Seungmin, I-”

“-Oh, sorry,” Seungmin chirps. “I meant, Minho-hyung.”

Relief rushes to his heart when he sees the gracious smile on Minho’s face. “You remember.”

“Yeah. I do.”

It’s a bold sight, to say the least. Two men stand in front of each other amidst an unrelenting snowstorm, mirroring each other’s smiles. It’s Seungmin who shatters the icy silence between them. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Look. Seungmin, I can explain-”

“-You don’t have to,” Seungmin interrupts. He struggles to force on a smile, but his lower lip trembles, because Minho is here. He’s real, and he’s here. “You really don’t have to.”

“What if I wanted to?”

Seungmin clutches onto the railing even tighter. “Go on, then.”

Minho leans against the barrier, arms flanking out to catch the wisps of snowflakes landing all along his coated arms. “Once upon a time, there lived a boy who grew up in Gimpo. He was never good at expressing what he wanted, or what he needed in his life. The only way he could express himself was through a form of art — dancing.

“When his parents disapproved, they shipped him off to live alone and study by himself. He didn’t care, though, and continued to dance to his heart’s content. Karma was what did him in, and he twisted his ankle and never danced the same again. His parents never wanted to see him again. His friends from dance never wished to help me back up.”

A deep exhale fogs Seungmin’s vision. “And then?”

Minho turns. His eyes hold the sad story in his dark irises, the truth slowly leaking out of the flecks of light in his pupils. “And so, when his cousin asked him to come down to the beach to help, he stayed, for a long, long time. He lived a different life from what he was used to. Before, he would listen to the people around him and follow their wishes no matter what happened. After, he would chart his own maps and lead his life the way he wanted, and the way he needed.”

“And that includes entering people’s lives and leaving them?” Seungmin asks.

A shooting star crosses his eyes. “Maybe.”

The memories bleed into each other. Seungmin glances down at his hand and raises his fist. A bracelet hangs from around his wrist. “And that includes leaving traces of yourself everywhere they go?”

“Maybe.”

Minho holds his own hand out. A matching bracelet glints in the moonlit night.

“Tell me. Was everything you told me a lie, or were they all the truth?”

Their hands brush against each other lightly, breathtakingly. Minho slips his fingers into the gaps between Seungmin’s and squeezes again. “They were all the truth.”

“Then why did you leave?”

The moonlight shines across Minho’s face, casting long shadows against his cheeks. It reminds Seungmin of the first time they met all over again, how a singular act had charged a chain reaction of emotions and gestures that Seungmin had been sure he’d never experience again. Yet, he knows he had willingly allowed Minho to swallow his world whole. In this world as myriad as his, the gaze Minho gave had been all it took for Seungmin to fill his whole life with it, if only briefly.

“Because I don’t let people into my life often,” Minho admits. “I don’t let anyone in.”

“Except cats.”

Minho nods solemnly. “Except cats,” he agrees.

“Why? Are you scared?”

Minho raises their intertwined hands to the railing and lays them there. “Aren’t we all?” he says. “You’re scared of the person you don’t know you are. I’m scared of the person I know I am. I don’t let simply anyone into my life.”

The cold breeze kicks up into a gust, and Seungmin takes it as his opportunity to swoop in and sidle up closer against Minho. Heat emanates from his body, and so does his character. “Why did you come into my life, then?”

Minho shrugs. “I saw someone who looked the way I was back then. Also, it’s not like that was the first time I saw you.”

Stunned, Seungmin pulls back with widened eyes. “When?”

“My third year at SNU. You were competing in that singing competition they held in spring.”

A part of Seungmin crumbles beneath him. “You knew me from back then?”

“I didn’t know you,” Minho corrects. “I saw you. And I thought you looked good up there, like you belonged there. Back then, the incident hadn’t happened yet, so I was too scared to go up to you. When I saw you again five years later, I was braver.”

Seungmin blinks. “You’ve liked me for five years now?” he blurts.

“Yah, don’t put your words into my mouth,” Minho giggles. The tips of his ears are crimson red now, almost fit to burst. “I’ve liked you for five months now, if it makes you feel any better.”

The rupture of the wounds that Minho had seared into his heart closed up. Heat rushed to Seungmin’s face and bloomed across his cheeks. “You’re joking.”

“I only tell the truth.”

Seungmin squeezes Minho’s hand in his. “I’m no different from the person you met me all those months ago,” he admits. “But I guess I’m a little better. I’m more open-minded with my friends. I’m more daring to break away from routine. I’m more open to the idea that life is more than just… existing.”

“And studying.”

His free hand reaches up to smack Minho’s arm. “I had an essay due that day, asshole,” he curses.

Minho feigns mock disappointment. “Ouch, Min-ah, that hurt. I opened up to you for once in my life and here you go, breaking all the bones in my arm.”

Even as Seungmin rolls his eyes, the smile on his face doesn’t fade away, nor does the love and adoration that guzzles past the rim of his heart and spreads throughout his chest. “Would you rather I kiss it better?”

Their hands slipped from the railing. Minho releases his grasp on the other’s hand, only to stroke Seungmin’s windburnt cheek. His touch almost salves every wound that Seungmin has endured for all the time they have been apart, and it makes the time spent waiting worth it at last.

“I would.”

Their kiss is a fire that alights their hearts and their souls. As Seungmin kisses with a thousand truths he wishes to speak, Minho kisses back with a thousand apologies he wishes to impart. They’re a strange dichotomy of muscle and skin trained upon bone, but somehow, their souls reach out to each other, time and time again, and allow fate to set their love in stone.

And when they reel away from each other to catch their breaths, Seungmin no longer feels cold. His mind is muddled with a thousand words, but for once, he brushes them away from his head and taps a finger against Minho’s chin. “Huh. I’m not cold anymore.”

“I told you, Min-ah. I control the forces of nature.”

Seungmin shakes his head with a tinkling laugh. “Sure, sure,” he says, before his thoughts are inundated by the press of Minho’s lips against his. This time, when his emotions continue to seep underneath his skin, he allows them to grow and explode.

When their lips are bruised and tainted with the taste of a thousand stories, Seungmin tilts his head upwards and peers at the sky. He knows he can’t see the stars, but he’s okay with that — they’ll always be there for them both.

He wonders about fate, and destiny, and love. When he looks back at Minho, he doesn’t need to wonder anymore — after all, the answers are finally here.