Work Text:
There was a spider somewhere in the apartment.
A pesky, persistent spider, hellbent on building its nest in the kitchen. Not tucked behind dusty cupboards fallen to disuse, or even a subtle corner in a cliché. No, the pesky, persistent spider had decided to build its nest between the fridge and the cooker, a wide-open space that sees way too much traffic for its brazen enterprise.
That should see too much traffic.
But Seungmin rarely comes in the kitchen now, except to throw away his takeout boxes and to occasionally grab cutlery the restaurants sometimes didn’t provide.
It’s been months since Minho had made his way between their (then) shared appliances. Sure hands tossing vegetables on the wok, eyes not even on the sizzling spectacle before him, but on Seungmin who (used to) walked to and fro at his bidding. Ferrying ingredients, plates, and an occasional kiss.
It wasn’t that Seungmin couldn’t cook. You don’t end up (dating, engaged, married) to a chef for ten years without picking up a few things. (There was a time that Minho was a kitchenhand and Seungmin was the waiter that would slip a grin his way every time he visited the kitchen.) But the shadows that haunted him in Minho’s space was an overwhelming presence he just didn’t want to shine a light on right now.
So Seungmin relies on takeout menus he has semi memorized, orders automatically punched in on his list of ‘safe restaurants’ that didn't have a trace pasta and risotto, not a hint of parmesan and the rich creamy sauces that Minho specialized in. No minced pork and Szechuan peppers, spiced vegetables sliced thinly in delicate dumplings wrapped deftly by practiced hands that Minho preferred to flex at home.
For the first time in his life, Seungmin was eating exclusively Korean food.
(Because weekends were for adventures on google search and restaurant review websites, and rides in Minho’s beat up Honda that he should really trade in for something better, but apparently lacks the character that his 2005 car had racked up. Weekends were for attempting to be cultured and for discovering new food to get obsessed with.)
He stares at the pile of bones in front of him, stomach churning at the sight of the drumsticks he had yet to touch. He wonders if spiders would eat tiny slivers of chicken if he cut them small enough. Seungmin gauges his hunger level, not so full but the hunger had faded. The fried chicken had done its job, but he could probably eat the drumsticks and be fine. But Minho… Minho hyung wasn’t there to grin and steal the drumstick he placed on his plate.
Minho hyung wasn’t around for a lot of things these days. Not dinner with Bangchan, or movie outings with Hyunjin and Jeongin. And even when he did show up, he would hide behind Jisung’s shorter body, using him as a shield to divert conversation. It wasn’t like Seungmin was any better, leaning into Felix’s hugs a little too long to avoid saying hello, or pretending to concentrate on poking Changbin just right to get his hyung to squeak out in indignation.
(They agreed that it wouldn’t be fair to claim custody of anyone in the friend group, their lives too interwoven with each other. But knowing when to show up and when to stay away was starting to weigh heavily on his mind.)
Settling on being alone was a lot harder than he had anticipated. The two-bedroom apartment they shared feeling a whole lot bigger than Changbin’s ridiculously spacious penthouse. He even counted his steps to reassure himself that he doesn’t need to move to a smaller space (nine steps from the kitchen to the bathroom. Five more to the bedroom. Another three to the converted office space that he didn’t really need. His work files all tucked up in the law firm he was gunning to be a partner in.)
But sharing a home with an adult-sized human being was a lot different to sharing a home with a spider-sized spider. His new roommate just wasn’t taking up enough space. No noisy door slams while rushing to work, or random bursts of noises. (Or whispers of ‘I love you’s just because).
He tosses the chicken back in the box and packs everything up neatly and immediately starts to clear up. With no one there to convince him to just leave it for a minute in favor of another episode queued up on Netflix, Seungmin’s life was a lot more efficient. And just as fun, no matter what his (soon to be) ex-husband had said last weekend at lunch when they discussed the list of assets they need to divvy up.
(Everything had been so amicable so far, Seungmin wonders if he should rile Minho up for what people promise to be the best kind of sex – on the verge of divorce sex was supposed to be fun. Right?)
Coffee table clean, he heads to the kitchen and is faced with the pesky, persistent spider’s latest attempt at building an Architectural Digest-worthy home.
So Seungmin spends yet another evening, broom in hand, waving the thing he’d ‘won’ during the divorce to wreck his new housemate’s home that Minho would definitely have not tolerated. He would have used the vacuum cleaner, but Minho had taken it, claiming deep cleaning a new apartment would take a lot more energy than maintaining (their) immaculate apartment.
“I guess we at least have wrecked homes in common huh.” He quirks his lips up in a not-smile at the wispy remains of the spider’s painstakingly built web.
It was yet another Monday-flavored whatever-day in Seungmin’s book. And his heart aches for Minho’s arms sneaking around his waist, pointy chin digging into his shoulder. There were traces of happiness and a working relationship that whispered in mocking tones too familiar to be ignored in every square inch of (their) apartment.
Minho was everywhere. Just not where Seungmin needed him to be.
And not for the first time, he wonders if he really should sign the papers.