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In the Dachstein mountain range, Mingyu’s absence envelops Wonwoo’s world in a thick blanket of white.
Their lodge sits in a perfect spot atop of a small hill. All around are pine trees and distant mountains, a little enclosure from the buzzing world. The only downside to it is the unforgiving temperatures. Always a natural enemy of his, Wonwoo huddles closer to the fireplace, placing more chopped wood in hopes of the flame ridding the room of cold.
Mounds of snow is all Wonwoo sees out their window, and his heart can’t help but worry. It’s been a few hours, each accounted for by the amount of round pebbles Wonwoo managed to stack. They’re adequately distracting. But not quite enough.
When the front door opens, Wonwoo willingly leaves his nook of blankets near the fireplace.
“Hey,” Wonwoo greets.
“Hey.”
Bits of snow decorates Mingyu’s padded jacket, articulating the amount of hard work he put in. More than the hours Wonwoo had counted. Mingyu smiles, but his lips barely lifted.
“Did you get the shots you want?”
It’s soft, the way Wonwoo asks the question. He hopes for it to come off as undemanding, as all his questions are, as is the love shared between them. Undemanding, unconditional, understanding.
Those are too many words starting with U—Wonwoo’s documentary professor would’ve chastised him for it. Wonwoo thought near-repetition makes for a lasting impression. He still does, now.
The answer to Wonwoo’s question comes as a groan, a quick removing of a jacket, and a weight landing itself on top of him. His hands come up to rub Mingyu’s back, repeating circles against his shirt.
“We still have a few days left,” Wonwoo says, “Still plenty of time for you to find that perfect shot.”
Mingyu shifts, chin snug on the dip of Wonwoo’s shoulder. “What if I don’t get the perfect shot?”
“You don’t have to. You never have to, Mingyu. Not perfect doesn’t mean bad.”
A hum ghosts against Wonwoo’s neck, and if it wasn’t for his turtleneck, Mingyu’s hair would have tickle the soft skin there. They stay there for a while, Mingyu burying himself deeper in Wonwoo’s embrace. Wonwoo can almost feel Mingyu’s energy siphoning away into the air.
“How about we ride the gondola to watch the sunset tomorrow?” Wonwoo pushes Mingyu gently, bringing him to face him. “We haven’t gotten around to doing that.”
A pout forms itself on Mingyu’s face. Eyes downcast in a way that is all too familiar for Wonwoo.
“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says. “I know we were supposed to relax here, too. And yet—“
“None of that, now.” Brushing his thumb above Mingyu’s brow, Wonwoo presses his lips where he touched. Lingering, just for a while. “We’ll go up the mountains, watch the sunset, and eat a nice dinner tomorrow. Take your mind off of things for a bit. How does that sound?”
Mingyu’s eyes crinkle, smile stretching wide on his face. He looks younger this way.
“Sounds perfect,” Mingyu answers. He plants a brief kiss on Wonwoo’s lips, before hiding his face on the crook of Wonwoo’s neck again. “Can you check today’s photos for me?”
“Always.” Wonwoo squeezes Mingyu. “I made hot chocolate, if you want to warm yourself up.”
“You did? Thank you.”
Mingyu detaches himself to inspect the hot chocolate sitting on the stove, expression pensive. He grabs a spoon from the drawer, and scoops a bit of the warm drink.
Wonwoo stops himself from biting his nail.
Mingyu takes a sip, sound loud in the silence. Then, he doesn’t say anything. The noticeable struggle to gulp the liquid down his throat gives the answer to Wonwoo.
“Too much chocolate?”
Nodding, the fight to keep a grimace at bay is visible on Mingyu’s face. “Too much chocolate.”
“Ah, really, I should just stick to dishwashing.”
“It’s okay, we can salvage it. Just add more milk and we’re good!”
“You go do that, I’ll work on the photos.”
Wonwoo sets up his laptop on the dining table. He handles Mingyu’s camera carefully, a priced possession for both of them. And like numerous instances before this, even Mingyu’s first shot leaves Wonwoo amazed, smile creeping up his face.
There is value in imperfections. Mingyu’s are always filled with love. It matters little how Mingyu often fails to notice it; Wonwoo’s there to fill the job, show the heart where Mingyu thinks there isn’t. For it always flows out of Mingyu, like water, most of the time unnoticeable until you’re submerged in it.
Mingyu brings his camera on their little sunset trip the next day, a decision Wonwoo isn’t against. Even during dinner, cheese fondue and wines waiting on their table, Mingyu busies himself with it.
“I’ve got it. The perfect shot.” Mingyu grins, finally looking up from his camera.
The small screen shows Wonwoo, half turned with the sunset behind him. There is a rebuttal sitting on the top of Wonwoo’s tongue. But it dissolves when Wonwoo takes a closer look of the shot.
He was looking at Mingyu there, mid-laugh. If Mingyu thinks Wonwoo’s love for him deserves the term perfect, no matter how untrue it is, then he’s content.
In Salzburg, a few hours before their flight home to Seoul, Mingyu takes Wonwoo’s hand in his. He kisses his knuckle one by one, stopping for a while on his ring finger. Nothing was said after, even when his face conveys otherwise.
🌧
The first time Wonwoo met Mingyu, he was a bright-eyed Filmmaking first year in KARTS.
Wonwoo exited his TV show writing workshop class with another fast approaching deadline by the end of next week. In truth, writing a script for a TV show wasn’t something Wonwoo can see himself doing—he’s too boring to even produce a good joke that would translate well. Some forms of writing were not part of his expertise.
His desire to somehow express his frustration disappeared when something entered the peripheral of his vision. As big as he was fast, the person barely managed to stop before he crashed into Wonwoo.
The steadicam rig is like armour on his body, adding dimensions to his already tall frame. Mingyu apologises the moment he gets a glimpse of Wonwoo’s face.
“I don’t think you should be running with that here.” The floor tend to be slippery, and Wonwoo’d seen too many fall into its trap. “You won’t be the first one to slip and fall.”
“Sorry, I was too excited to take this baby for a spin.”
Mingyu’s smile is lopsided, as if he couldn’t decide whether to frown or smile. It confused Wonwoo for a moment, before his mind decided it’s cute when Mingyu asked him for a little tour around the broadcasting department.
Wonwoo found out Mingyu was decently popular the next day. Somehow, Wonwoo wasn’t surprised to hear the reason behind it, aside from his personality that is. His near-accident with Wonwoo wasn’t the first. And not the last, apparently.
Every encounter after played out so much like a rom-com show that Wonwoo wondered if they weren’t coincidences—knew that they weren’t coincidences.
It all started with the favour for a tour. Then, after, it turned into: “Nice meeting you again! I haven’t had lunch, do you want to have it with me?”
A few weeks and several coincidental meetings later, it turned into: “Wonwoo-hyung! You look great today. I’m going to the park for photos, do you want to come with?”
There were more photos of Wonwoo in the scenery than he’d like to have, but Mingyu seemed satisfied. The thought of Mingyu being delighted of having Wonwoo in his photos brought tepid joy in Wonwoo’s chest.
The next one was: “I forgot my camera, somehow, do you want to come to my place?”
And Mingyu’s place became a common meeting place. At some point in the midst of all of this, Wonwoo had told Mingyu the kind of writing he wanted to do. He let Mingyu flip the pages of his notebook he’d kept a secret from everyone else. And Mingyu showed Wonwoo the shots he cherished most.
Hearts bared between the two of them.
In a rather pleasant twist, they melded quite easily after a while. Wonwoo saw what Mingyu captured and felt the overwhelming urge to translate it into words. Mingyu had admired them in such reverence that he asked Wonwoo to do it again, and again.
Wonwoo happily obliged. The touches Mingyu always leave on him were enough of an answer. Acts of veneration in their own right.
Wonwoo didn’t believe in love at first sight, the idea too idillic to have place in life, but discrediting the concept of it entirely would mean dismissing Mingyu’s reality. Wonwoo had been there before. Fear of near obsession always came with people who claimed to have experienced it with him.
Not with Mingyu, though.
Mingyu made the distinction clear between falling, and choosing to actively be in love. Or so he had told Wonwoo, because at that point, Wonwoo didn’t care anymore. Kim Mingyu had expanded Wonwoo’s heart and made himself home there, intention to leave never present.
Even if he did, the change is irreversible. The heart can’t unlearn the capacity to love more, to cherish more. Wonwoo has Mingyu to blame for that.
Not that Wonwoo had to think what it would be like. He is with Mingyu, and thus his heart will always be ever-expanding, for Mingyu, just like Mingyu’s.
🌦
“How about you retire for the night?”
“And leave you here alone? No way.”
The immediate refusal from Mingyu is expected. Despite the evident decrease in his energy after hours of labour, Mingyu remains stubborn in his decision to stay. Always one to see his projects until the end. This time the exhibition was theirs, one they’ve planned for a long while. Sometimes it takes a little reminding to make Mingyu remember. You’re not on your own, remember?
“There are only a few more descriptions left to hang. Besides, you need to look good for the opening speech tomorrow. And lack of sleep doesn’t provide that.”
“Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu whines, brows furrowed. “I don’t care about any of that right now.”
Wonwoo feels a smile creep up his lips. “I know you’ll regret it later if you don’t look perfect. You don’t trust that I can do the rest properly?”
That’s a low blow, even for Wonwoo, but it’s all in jest. Wonwoo has to have the upper hand this time. Mingyu looks as though he’d forgone sleep for the last month.
“Okay,” Mingyu relents, “but on one condition. I’ll take the bus home, you take our car.”
Wonwoo smiles, heart warm. His hand cups one side of Mingyu’s face. “Deal. Get home safe, call me when you arrive.”
Mingyu hums, scrunches his face when Wonwoo presses his lips on his nose. “I will. You get home safe, too.”
What Wonwoo hears is: get back to me safe.
“Always.”
It takes a couple minutes for Mingyu to actually move from his spot, a couple more for Mingyu untangle his arms from Wonwoo’s.
It’s quite hard to tell whether time moves faster or slower with Mingyu absent, but by the time Wonwoo finishes with all the preparation for tomorrow, there is still no missed calls from Mingyu.
There is, however, an eloquent text consisting of a single house emoji sent 50 minutes ago. That’s 15 minutes more than it should take for Mingyu to arrive home. He must’ve taken a shower and only remembered to text when he’s halfway asleep.
Wonwoo laughs, image of Mingyu clear in his head.
After making the last round around the exhibition room, Wonwoo finds himself stopping at the centre piece of the second floor. Truly, he can’t believe Mingyu included the Dachstein photo of Wonwoo. It’s the only photo Mingyu named and wrote the description for.
What a confession, Wonwoo thinks. One not only for him, but also for the world.
🌤
The room thrums with silent excitement. It’s filling to see chatter present, even in a quiet exhibition space like this. Occasional laughter erupts when Mingyu stops to make sure each and very guest is having an enjoyable time. He’s in his element, and Wonwoo couldn’t be happier.
When Mingyu stops to greet a familiar face, he motions Wonwoo closer.
“Congratulations on the exhibition, Mingyu. Great work as always.”
“Thank you, though none of these photos would be as impressive if it wasn’t for Wonwoo titling and writing the descriptions for them. No one captures my heart as best as he does.”
“Of course!” Jeonghan cheers. “I’m always jealous of you in that regard. Your words are always wonderful, Wonwoo. Thank you for helping this baby’s feeling out into the world.”
“I’m not a baby—“
“You flatter me, Jeonghannie. Though I’d appreciate it if I remain the only one who calls him baby.”
“Hyung, not in public.” Mingyu’s protest got lost in the midst of both their laughs.
“How scary. I can’t do anything but yield, then.” Jeonghan winks, laughter still light on his lips. “Even though both of you are my babies.”
Right then, the beam projector playing Wonwoo’s documentary of Mingyu’s process decides to break down, silencing Wonwoo’s refutal. He excuses himself to the backroom, accepting Jeonghan’s words.
They prepared double of everything much to Wonwoo’s relief. The second projector is still in its box, and the door opens when Wonwoo’s taking it out. Turning his head, Wonwoo sees Mingyu walking in, smile not as bright as it was before.
“Hey, I can handle this. You should be out there.”
“I know, I’ll be just a while.”
“Is something wrong?”
Mingyu shakes his head, smile a bit thin. “Nothing is wrong! Everything is perfect, actually. I just want to thank you.”
“Hey.” Wonwoo crosses the room to meet him, taking Mingyu’s hands in his. “You should thank yourself, too.”
The smile is teary when Mingyu brings their joint hand upwards. “Thank you.” He kisses Wonwoo’s ring finger. “I cherish you a lot.”
“I know, I love you too.”
☀️
Wonwoo had constructed several plans for the day. But in the midst of the craziness of preparing for their exhibition, they had slipped out of his mind.
Their bedside table clock strikes twelve and the other side of the bed is empty. It has been for a while, now, sheets untouched. The living room light is still on, lights bleeding through the gap of their opened bedroom door.
Wonwoo rubs the sleep out of his eyes and goes out to check.
Still glued to his laptop, the screen illuminates the droop in Mingyu’s shoulder, the almost lifeless way his head is supported bye arm. It doesn’t take much for Wonwoo to approach unnoticed; Mingyu’s too preoccupied with the wall of text on his screen. A quick glance at the bold title of the article provides Wonwoo with enough information on what it’s about, though the content escapes him.
But he knows it’s something Mingyu shouldn’t worry about. His exhibition was spectacular, in all sense of the word.
“Up for some late night reading?” Wonwoo lands a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder.
As though caught doing something illegal, Mingyu shuts his laptop, swivelling in his chair. “No—I mean, yes. Sort of.”
“Mingyu, it was amazing. You saw how people reacted yourself. Besides, you told me you’re satisfied with it?”
“I am, it’s just…I get curious, you know. About what people are saying about me, about us.”
Wonwoo moves away, eyes set on the vinyl player above their cabinet. “Well, I think we did our part well—putting ourselves out there. We can’t control the rest.” Wonwoo searches their stack of vinyls. “It will matter to those who are touched by it, and it won’t to those who aren’t. And that ’s normal, it doesn’t diminish the effort and meaning you’ve put into your work.”
Silence follows, before the slow tune of the track Wonwoo chose fills the room. To his surprise, Mingyu meets him halfway across their living room. It’s a familiar tune, the song and the habit that follows. Hand on shoulder, hand on waist, bodies so close that their heartbeats are undistinguishable.
“How about you?”
“Hmm?”
“What do you think of the exhibition?” Mingyu asks, head right besides Wonwoo’s.
“You know how I think of you. It’s a labour of our love, I don’t think anything can be better than that.”
Mingyu remains silent, swaying with the slow rhythm of the song. The tightening of his grip on Wonwoo’s waist is brief, before the touch is gone entirely, Mingyu holding Wonwoo at an arm’s distance.
“Something on your mind?”
“Today marks our eighth year right?”
“So you do remember,” Wonwoo laughs. “I can’t believe it’s been that long and I haven’t gotten bored of you yet.”
For a moment, Mingyu’s lack of laughter scares Wonwoo. But before Wonwoo’s worry can fully take shape, Mingyu brings Wonwoo’s hand to his lips. A gesture repeated more than ever in the last few weeks. And the tune is also becoming familiar, for Wonwoo.
Mingyu’s lips on his ring finger, the note having an emboldened fermata on top of it.
“You keep doing that.”
“Well, I want your ring finger to have weight on it, aside from my lips. So you better prepare not to be bored with me for another 70 years.”
The surge of warmth is piercing, arrow shooting for the skies, bursting in colourful lights. They have always been warm; the soothing tide of the sea, water peaceful. It comes as a surprise, the abrupt outburst of heat and emotion—still pleasant, nonetheless.
“Will you stay with me?” Mingyu asks, bringing them closer again. His eyes are on Wonwoo, now. Heavy with sincerity, yet they still remain undemanding. As they always are.
The answer comes easy for Wonwoo, just like how Mingyu claimed how easy it was to love Wonwoo, all those years ago.
“Tonight,” Wonwoo answers, bringing their foreheads together to dance to the music again. “And always.”