Chapter Text
Our timings were off, I feel like I'm being punished
What I did to get closer to you was rather
Building a wall between us, I'm speechless
“You’re aware that we don’t need to keep this whole routine up, right?”
Minho barely looks up from the kimchi jjigae stew he’s been making for the last few minutes when Seungmin speaks. He makes an uninterested noise in agreement, before answering.
“Hm… Why not? I thought this was your favorite, Seungmin-ah?” Minho’s tone is gentle, and condescendingly sweet. Seungmin furrows his brows, unable to decipher whether to play along with Minho’s little game. After a silence of deliberation, he doesn’t. The game was way out of their hands now, both of them being the sore losers.
“We’re getting divorced tomorrow,” Seungmin points out as if Minho could possibly forget. Minho hears a tinge of accusation in Seungmin’s tone. As if Seungmin thought that this wasn’t a big deal to him— It is. He’s losing a husband. He’s losing his other half. He’s losing Seungmin.
The realization hits Minho harder than he thought it would. His grip on the ladle he’s been using to stir the stew tightens. He feels the younger’s scrutinizing gaze on his back. Finally deeming the stew finished, Minho raises his head from the pot to stare at his husband’s stiff figure seated at the table, staring at him as if he’s some sort of stranger.
He guesses that’s all they are now. Two strangers in a shared space. But not for long,
Seungmin’s officially moving out tomorrow, though it feels like it’s been longer. His law books are no longer in the apartment. His side in their shared closet space has been cleared out since the night they fought and reached their inevitable end. Seungmin’s been living with his friend, Hyunjin, a choreographer for some entertainment company for a week now. Minho never quite liked Hyunjin— always thought there was something more than friendship in those stares he gave his husband— ex-husband.
Well, Minho has no right to care now.
They’ve just returned from the court, for Seungmin to get the rest of his belongings, while Minho went ahead and got started on dinner. He doesn’t see anything wrong with it. He’s just doing what he always did when Seungmin got home from a long day of work at the firm. He’s cooking for his husban- Oh.
Minho gets it now.
Getting divorced means not getting to cook for Seungmin anymore. Not getting to see the younger’s eyes and cheeks crinkle and bulge up in happiness when the meal is just right for his taste. Not getting to see Seungmin’s eyes widen and the way he pants like an adorable puppy when the dish is too spicy.
“Tomorrow,” He agrees. There’s an unmistakable quiver in his voice that Seungmin notices but doesn’t acknowledge. Speaking of Seungmin, he looks as prim and proper as ever. He’s wearing slacks that highlight his long lean legs and one of his button-up shirts, even as an adult, Seungmin still maintained that dandy image — though there’s a slight wrinkle on it that Minho wants to iron out and— No, stop it!
‘Say something! You idiot!’ The voice in Minho’s head desperately screams at him but when has he even listened?
Communication has never been their strongest suit. Even back when they were still dating, they’ve always had the same dynamic. ‘Divorced couple’ Their friends always liked to tease them.
Oh, the irony.
He shifts his attention back to his meal, watching Seungmin in the corner of his eye. There’s a gentle smile on Seungmin’s face as he eats. It makes Minho uneasy seeing him so at peace and having made peace with getting divorced.
“It’s good, hyung,” Seungmin says gratefully, an earnest look in his eyes that has Minho aching to hold his hand and relish in its warmth. Minho tries to painstakingly ignore the fact that he doesn't use the special pet name that he has reserved for Minho.
“Mmm. You’re welcome, jagi. ” Minho thanks him, under his breath. Seungmin doesn’t hear, occupied with his favorite meal, cheeks no longer plump with baby fat but still looking pinchable nonetheless.
It’s so easy to ignore the elephant in the room. To pretend as if, this isn’t their final dinner together. To pretend as if this was just another night for the two of them.
To pretend Minho isn't still incredibly in love with Seungmin.
Minho ignores the tight feeling in his chest as he brings the now-unappetizing spoonful of stew to his lips.
Minho has always been great at pretending. Pretending he’s on the same page with Seungmin on the whole divorce thing. Pretending he agrees when Seungmin tells him that it’s better this way. That someone can love Minho better— the way he deserves.
‘Why can’t it be you?’ Minho thinks as he watches Seungmin place a brown envelope in front of him, no doubt containing the divorce papers. Has Seungmin signed it already? Minho can’t bring himself to check.
Who’ll make sure he eats when he’s assigned to another of his long cases? Seungmin has a bad habit of neglecting his own health when his mind is preoccupied. Who’ll do his laundry and make sure that he isn’t overworking himself? Nobody else knows his Gongcha order — it’s an Americano because Seungmin’s a fucking weirdo, because who the fuck orders an Americano at a boba store? But Minho’s weird too because he sees everything Seungmin does as endearing, and if doing and knowing all of that wasn’t love, then what the hell has Minho been doing all this time?
As if eager to escape Minho's presence, Seungmin awkwardly thanks him for the meal and leaves as soon as he’s done eating, still taking the time to be considerate and leave his dishes and glass by the sink, because that’s the sort of polite fucker Seungmin is and Minho is losing him.
Minho’s plate remains untouched. His appetite vanishes as he stares at the empty chair across his.
‘It was all for the best.’ He tells himself, scraping the leftovers into the bin and taking his seat at the table again, this time, with a pen in his hand. Hesitantly, he opens and takes a look inside the contents of the envelope. He sees the divorce papers as expected, alongside the other necessary files, and he sees a tiny unassuming box.
His breathing halts and his heart shatters into several tiny pieces as inside the box, he finds Seungmin’s ring. The one identical to the one Minho has on his finger. The thought of taking it off never crossed his mind.
He took it off. He took it off. He took it off. He took it off. He took it off. He took it off. He took it off. He took it off. He took it off. He took it—
Fuck.
He shifts his view from the box, ignoring the prickling in his eyes at the reminder. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The papers. Shit, the papers.
Minho takes a deep breath and takes them out of the envelope. It feels surprisingly light in his hands. It’s weird to think that these papers seal their fate. He winces when he sees Seungmin’s neat signature and next to it, a blank line for his own.
He recalls a past memory of the two of them in white matching suits, smiling from ear to ear, saying “I do” with hearts in their eyes in front of the altar. There was dancing— so much dancing— and— and— wine and Minho’s never been happier and —-
He uncaps his pen, hoping tear-stained papers can still hold their ground in the face of the law.
While making my mind up, I missed thе most important one, you