Work Text:
45 Things That Seungmin Remembers (in No Particular Order):
Losing a library book when he was ten.
Upturning couch cushions and blankets in his search for it until he realized that he might’ve left it on the train.
His mom handing him a crisp 10,000 won bill to pay the lost book fee, green as jade and clutched tight in his fist like it is just as precious.
Learning that some lost things are replaceable.
Picking out a new betta fish with his dad at the pet store after his first one died.
Sulking in the car as this second fish darted around its tank, seeming as displeased with the situation as Seungmin. Dal is twilight navy with a streaking yellow tail that fans out behind him like the coma of a comet. He looks really similar to Byeol.
Byeol’s scales had shimmered just a little brighter, though.
Learning that some lost things will never be replaced.
Sobbing into his pillow until his whole face turned blotchy and raw-red the day Minho got eliminated.
Crying just as hard when Chan told them all that Minho would be coming back.
Learning that some lost things will return like they’d never gone away.
Sharing a hotel room with Minho for the first time. Their manager had shuffled their keycards around, turned them face down, and held them out like a cheap magic trick. Pick a card, any card.
Pretending not to notice Minho’s deep-set stare on his pincered fingers as he watched to see which card Seungmin would pull. Is it still a trick if the magician is also holding his breath?
Picking the keycard for the same room as Minho.
The face Minho makes when he is pretending that he doesn’t care: pinched nose, tight lips, a too smooth brow.
Visiting a mall in Chicago with Minho and buying him a grumpy looking Garfield plushie. Teasingly telling Minho that the toy looks just like him.
Laughing until his stomach cramps when Minho tried to swat Seungmin’s arm in protest and ended up knocking over a display of stuffed orange cats.
Minho tossing the toy into his bag when Seungmin hands it to him, then Minho accidentally leaving the bag in the food court later that day.
Asking Minho what he’d lost in the bag, and Minho ticking off the items on casually flexed fingers: his ID, his passport, his wallet.
Minho giving him a strange look when Seungmin prodded him to say more. Anything else?
Minho shaking his head, the gesture like the tremors of an earthquake. No, nothing else.
The face Minho makes when he actually doesn’t care.
The pulsing ache in Seungmin’s chest that follows directly after.
Losing his own passport a few months later.
Sitting in the dorm with a neatly packed suitcase and nowhere to go as his group mates headed to the airport without him.
Wondering if this is what it feels like to become something misplaced.
The way Minho leans against his shoulder on long car rides, during schedules, in the practice room. Usually after an exhausting day, and sometimes before the start of a blissfully still one.
His seatmate nodding off beside him two hours into the flight. When she teeters a little too far and accidentally bumps her temple against his shoulder, he lets her.
Wondering when the honey golden dayglow of nostalgia soured into a piss yellow tint.
Texting Minho the moment his plane touched the tarmac, because Minho had asked him to.
Slipping into Minho’s hotel room later that night when their manager is asleep, because Minho had asked him to.
Trying his best to avoid leaving visible marks on Minho’s skin, because Minho had asked him to.
Wanting nothing more than to suck blossoming pinks and purples onto Minho’s clavicle, to nip at the tender skin of his neck in a hungry, teething desperation.
Settling for grazing his teeth against Minho’s pulse point.
Pretending that Minho has given him his heart to hold on his tongue.
Learning that no matter how careful he is, there are things that will slip out of his grasp.
Minho brushing his fingertips against the side of Seungmin’s hand in the rental car the next morning. He is staring out of the window, but Seungmin can see his face in the reflection of the glass: pinched nose, tight lips, a too smooth brow.
Satisfaction, piecemeal.
The plane ride back: Minho poking fun at his flimsy temporary passport, Minho trading seats with Changbin so that he can sit next to Seungmin.
Minho leaning his head against Seungmin’s shoulder, and the cloudiness in his head feeling more like rapture than nostalgia.
Learning that he can’t lose something he never owned in the first place.
Realizing that memories can be fine as sand and just as slippery, so maybe it is okay if Minho does not find joy in the futile endeavor of trying to keep every grain cupped in his palm.
Minho saying on Dekira that he does not remember the time Seungmin lost his passport.
Minho telling him in the car ride afterwards that even if he hadn’t remembered, he appreciates that Seungmin had.
Deciding that if Minho needs him to, Seungmin will hold enough memories for the both of them.