Archive of Our Own

LVT High, Film Club, 10:34 A.M.  

Hyunjin loves the film club more than anyone. Minho still remembers that. 

But abandoning his diploma at their old club room is plainly careless, nostalgia trips be damned. Then again, Hyunjin has never exactly been shrewd on most occasions — Minho assumes that such must be the case even presently —, though he was popular for flaunting his sense of responsibility back in the day when he'd discover something to brag about. Back when he was the big know-it-all that Minho continually reminded him he was, all in good fun. 

Back when conflict resolutions were pruned by twin laughter and heartbreak was an odious idea limited to the fictional, tragic tales that the younger used to adore. 

Back then, nothing beyond test results, nerdy debates, and college stress was ever deemed serious. But time blinked through the epilogue of childhood without sparing them a gentle forewarning. Growing up became inevitable sooner than either of them could have imagined. Well, at least it did for Minho, who couldn't possibly foresee when the once-granted spring of his world would inexorably transition to endless hell.

Agitated by the sharp spasm of pain coursing through his shoulder — the one that has been holding his cast together for weeks now —, Minho groans, blaming his straying train of thought for distracting him into mindlessly carrying a bad posture. 

"You okay?" Jisung mutters. He instinctively pauses his desk cleanup to offer a helping hand.

Sometimes Minho wonders if Jisung still blames himself for what happened, though it was hardly his doing. After all, it was Minho's choice to stay on call while steering both the car and his embittering emotions. Ultimately, it was his fault for giving Jisung the worst nightmare that a lifelong friend could be subjected to.

But Minho hasn't confirmed his surmise; he hasn't spoken a word about the accident to Jisung ever since he recovered. And now it has become the unspoken law to never bring that day up. 

Regardless, it's nonsensical. It's not as if he doesn't constantly add to Jisung's mental strain, anyway.

It's always been this way. Minho makes a mess, Jisung rushes to his aid, Minho has to sit through a lecture that his mind refuses to absorb, and Jisung swears to never leave his side again. It's an exhausting pattern for both of them.

Following the very pattern, Minho ignores Jisung's present concerns altogether. "Is he a fucking moron?" he complains instead. 

Jisung eyes the diploma in Minho's hands. "You mean, Hyunjin?" he wonders aloud. Minho can tell that it's mostly out of surprise rather than naive verification.

"Well, the seven of us are here already so who else do you think I would be talking about?" Minho thoughtlessly snaps, stepping on the flagstones of regret right after Jisung's apologetic nod. "I'm sorry," he quickly follows up.

"No, I get it," Jisung responds. "It's cool." 

"Is it?" Felix questions from somewhere behind them. "This was an opportunity for all of us to meet after... so long. I wish Hyunjin could have shown up at the time when we all decided to meet." He frowns, but it's clear that none of his words are said out of spite.

Minho bites back a dry cough at how cheerily Felix dances around the topic, as if they're having a jolly good reunion, separated by nothing more than distance and time, reconnecting for the sake of the good old fucking days. But who else other than sanguine little Felix would have that kind of faith in their group's dust-collecting bond? 

Sometimes it's downright infuriating, but Minho knows better than to lash out at Felix, who only wants to see them together again. He's like a credulous kid counting on wishing wells and magic candles to fulfill his one true desire. There is no way Minho can even sham a fit of rage when it comes to Felix's naive sentiments, despite his resentment linked with the ugly past.

"He probably got caught up in some other stuff," Jeongin vaguely reasons. "Otherwise, I'm pretty sure he would've shown up."

And there it is: Jeongin rushing to Hyunjin's defence as always. Truly nothing has changed and it makes Minho want to grab Jeongin by the shoulders and shake him senseless. It's astounding how much blind faith Jeongin has in his best friend. Minho doesn't expect him to take a different turn on this matter either, but Jeongin's loyalty can sometimes outweigh rationality and it's nothing short of frustrating.

"So caught up that he couldn't even spare a few minutes?" Minho challenges. "And did he forget his diploma here because of that too? Or did he just accidentally leave it here out of his need to run away from his problems, from us?" 

"For the love of God, Minho, it's been a year! Move on already," Jeongin fires back.

"Why don't you tell him that?" Minho shoots back. "Oh, wait. You can't, can you? Because he's not fucking present here." 

"Okay, break it up," Chan calmly intervenes, just as quickly as Changbin gives Jeongin a placating pat on the back. 

It's all the same. Avoidance is still the group's first and final, collective resort. Not a single one of them has changed. This is awful.  

When silence drags on at an uncomfortable pace, Jisung clears his throat. "Wait, is this his camera?" he asks, lifting the gadget up in Minho's direction.

After one side glance at the camcorder, Minho inwardly sighs. "Fucking hell," he grumbles, before taking the item off of Jisung's hands. 

"Woah, that's too irresponsible even for him," Seungmin comments. "We all know how much he treasures that little thing." 

"Whatever." Minho shrugs in an attempt to conceal how heavily Seungmin's words lay on him, struggling to push past the haunting memories of buying and gifting that camera to his former best friend. 

Minho still remembers the look on Hyunjin's face once the latter tore through the packaging. Endless incoherent questioning followed and wide eyes scanned Minho's face to confirm that this wasn't, in fact, a prank. Minho hadn't spoken a word, but he knew that his smile answered for him as soon as he witnessed Hyunjin's sheer delight in the way that the younger's long fingers covered his gaping mouth. The boy swore to cherish the birthday present for as long as he was going to live. 

It's been almost five years since then. Maybe that was the first domino that Minho had flicked, the pre-storm light that he took for granted, the eye of the hurricane that he foolishly hurled himself towards. Maybe that's why they're here now. Maybe that's why it hurts so awfully. The fingers always end up pointing in Minho's direction and that's where most of his resentment stems from.

"Hyung, it's been a year now," Jeongin suddenly repeats, as if reading the conflicted expression on Minho's face. "It's better if we all focus on moving on from… from our own unique experiences of the past." 

Minho doesn't fully understand what that means and neither is he in the right headspace to decipher it. So instead, he hides behind ignorance, which has always been the easier option for someone like him, someone too indignant to advance from the past but too stubborn to outright say it. 

"His art studio is the closest to my place. I'll drop this off there by tonight," Minho deadpans, bitterly staring at the diploma. "Tell him to pick it up. I'm not gonna wait around." 

After placing the last of his and Hyunjin's belongings in a box, he storms off. 

So much for a reunion.  

Minho's Room, 11:07 A.M.  

March used to buzz with a certain someone's pre-birthday anticipation, the kind of thrill that always kept Minho occupied. But now he is laying in bed, praying for the heat and apathy to not test his mood any further.

March used to dazzle with the flares of childhood and the idiocy that tagged along with daring adventures. But now the month is dry and should hold no meaning. 

March is made out of nostalgia and Minho has taught himself to despise that term. But now that March is here again, he's not so sure how he can feign detachment anymore. 

He may think of himself as a decent actor, but for the life of him, he cannot simulate what he feels towards Hyunjin. That's something he has never been able to do. Hyunjin was well-aware of that. He must remember it even now, must be mocking the self-protective hard feelings that Minho uses as armour to fight unavoidable nostalgia.

Minho shakes his head. That's not the Hyunjin he knew. The Hyunjin he knew never held grudges. The Hyunjin he knew was full of love. He was. But time, as Minho has come to understand, moves forward at an unpredictable pace. It shapes emotion, character, and people. It successfully seeked out the dormant acrimony in Minho. It must've influenced Hyunjin in unimaginable ways too.

Because, when Minho thinks back on it, they weren't all that different. With so many years on their hands, they were both well-informed about each other's likes and dislikes. When it came down to it, they could see right through each other. Hyunjin, at least, was fully capable of stripping Minho's fortified layers to transparency.

"Your emotions are raw and genuine," Hyunjin reminded him out of the blue, a tough football match and a few injuries later. 

"Stop speaking nonsense," Minho muttered, tending to Hyunjin's elbow wounds with light dabs of sanitized cotton.

"No, seriously," Hyunjin insisted, rolling up his sleeves even further for Minho's convenience. "You said you hit me on purpose but-" 

"I did." 

"Did you?" Hyunjin smirked. "So, is this your way of apologising?" 

Minho threw the cotton ball at Hyunjin's chest. "You can take care of your battle wounds yourself, asshole." 

Hyunjin laughed and Minho had to force himself to not cave into a grin, though it had become pretty much conditional by then. "Try to hate me all you want, but your ears are turning red because you care about me. You love me so much, hyung-ah!" Hyunjin whined. 

And Minho caved. He smiled then as he does now at the warmth of the memory — almost naturally. Of course, he cared about Hyunjin. They were best friends. 

But now they're... nothing. 

It's been a year and Minho doesn't want to care anymore, but — as Hyunjin had helpfully pointed out —, he has no power over his emotions. 

Sitting upright, he grabs the calendar on his bedside table for a quick glance at Felix's handwriting. March feels longer than it did back then. 

"25th March: while we're still here :)"  

"And don't be late," Felix's voice rings in his head. 

Minho sighs. Perhaps, it's too early to give himself a headache over this. He still has a week left till the due date of this painful get-together. Still a month or two until they all leave for college. Still some time until all of these moments start being reduced to a long-forgotten spring of the past. And when Minho begins his new life, nothing will matter anymore. Hyunjin will never have existed. 

But Minho still has the present to deal with, so he places the calendar back in its position and reaches for the camcorder inside the box — which he carried to school earlier today — instead. 

After getting his hands on the device, he examines the exterior and the wistful touch to it. What an odd little piece of junk. Did he really have to spend his savings on it? 

Well, in pre-pubescent Minho's defense, this was worth something a lot more than money back in the day. It was worth the crinkly eyes and winsome smile that he got in return for gifting it.

Minho traces his fingers over the worn-out golden stickers beside the memory card slot. The familiarity gives way to the smell of the football field after a brief downpour on an otherwise humid Monday. 

"Two stars – one for me, one for you," Hyunjin stated, after sticking the two stars on.

"Explain?" Minho asked, poking the younger's knee as he shifted closer. 

"It's so that when you become a star on the big screen, you'll remember the first lens that ever captured your talent," Hyunjin explained, crossing his legs over the turf. "And as for me... well, I love stars." 

The memories are distinctly vivid and in no mood of fading away just yet. Minho wonders if Hyunjin is still just as fond of these stars as he was back then. 

But if he was, why would he leave them behind? 

Minho sprawls over his bed and allows his back to sink into the sheets as further in as they possibly can. Hesitantly, he activates the device for the first time in months all because of the curiosity of what lies inside. 

But it's all the same. The content remains untouched, including the most recently recorded clip that Minho knows dreadfully closely. 

Something foul twists in Minho's stomach as he realizes that Hyunjin practically abandoned the camera after this last recording. He abandoned his most favourite birthday gift just like that. 

But why is it still active then? Does this mean that Hyunjin didn't give up on the memories? Does he also think about the way things ended? Is he so caught up in it that he tries to get rid of his self-reproach by pretending that Minho was only a fictional part of his life, confined to the picture-perfect frame of this camera? Was that ideal image of Minho too hard for Hyunjin to let go of?

The questions cling to Minho's mind like an incurable malady. He lets the possible answers slip past as easily as every memory he shares with Hyunjin, every memory that he's curious enough to revisit, every memory that is stored in this device.

Would it be so wrong to push past self-set boundaries? Life has been downright cruel to him, it surely can't get any worse, Minho assumes. 

So he gives in. He scrolls through the codes of reminiscence stored in the abandoned device, as if the memories aren't secured at the back of his mind, as if the mere sight of the thumbnails doesn't trace back to Hyunjin's uninhibited giggles, as if Minho is a stranger strolling amongst ghosts in a haunted mansion. 

He replays his fondest memory. 

"You asshole!" Minho exclaimed, staggered behind the fake snow that his friend had just smeared into his face. 

"Happy birthday, Minho hyung!" Hyunjin tittered through the wish, his voice boldly joyful yet guttural behind the camera. Better than how Minho remembers it. "Try not to hit me too much this year, yeah? Let's stay together forever!" 

The clip ends there, but Minho instantly recalls what happened next. Hyunjin ran as fast as his athletic legs could carry him and Minho bore nothing but sheer willpower to chase him down. The older's determination overpowered the younger's years worth of swimming medals, and when he got a hold of Hyunjin, Minho spared no mercy. He remembers it like it was just yesterday. 

Gash after gash. His favourite tidbits happen to be the most hurtful ones as well, ones in which Hyunjin's laughter echoes clearer than any distant memory that Minho wants to hold close. Much like the other memories, he doesn't want this one to stick around either. It's just persistent and stubborn. Exactly like his former friend. 

Minho browses some more, eventually stumbling upon the more recent videos stored in this little thing. 

Videos of her . 

Minho knows better. The past wounds more when left scattered, and the wisest option is to desert it overall. But it's also tempting to look through cabinets that are already partially opened. The act itself is dreadful, but the feeling is tempting. And Minho gives into its allure. 

Minho knows better. Yet he skims through clips of sun-kissed silhouettes and corny jokes and delightful laughter. 

Minho knows better. Yet he traces every memory back to her smile, her penchant for her craft, her half-hearted mockery of him getting distracted, her sweet face, her .

It sounds dramatic, but she was what the movies call "too good to be true". And Minho, ever blinded by his confidence upon learning new words, once compared her to a supernova after one particularly interesting science class. Chan didn't let that go until weeks later, but oh well, at that time it seemed right. 

She was beautiful, she was extraordinary, and when she would smile... oh, her smile. She was made out of dreams and fairytales. 

The past-him knew that Minho was done for, after one romantic duet. How long was he going to escape her anyway? Nobody could. 

Minho knows better, and yet... 

"On a scale of one to ten, how fearful are you that Jisung is handling the lights on such a short notice?" Hyunjin spoke from behind the camera in a different clip, which is shot at an angle that displays Minho's side-profile well. 

Minho chuckled, twirling the strings of his backpack as he kicked about small stones off-screen. "That's a pretty short scale," he commented. 

Hyunjin responded with an exaggerated gasp. "You know your favourite little baby is gonna see this later, right? What kind of father are you, Lee Minho? Should I go up to him and-"

"Don't even try that, I'll break your bones," Minho threatened.

"What are you losers talking about?"  

There she was, cutting into their banter with the clatter of her steps, something she had grown accustomed to doing in a short time. 

Minho can physically feel his past self halting in his tracks; the visible blush did not help his case at all. It's embarrassing to look at how awfully spellbound he was back then.

Amidst the chills, he absentmindedly glosses over Hyunjin's little interview of her. The lens somehow trailed back to a dazed Minho, twinkling starry-eyed for the girl in front of him. A few confused blinks later, the clip freezes, indicating that Hyunjin probably ended it there. 

There is a high possibility that there are several such clips in the camcorder — moments like wisps of warm air that swiftly swept past Minho just as quickly as they had fanned his face. 

Oh, he was a goner back then. But he's sure that the clips aren't even half as noteworthy or eventful as the domino effect that they had caused over time.

Their largest project ever was up for production. Meaning, self-consuming and lengthy hours of work were prioritized over breaks and hangouts. Every encounter had taken a strictly business formal turn. Well, all of it except for Minho's heart-eyes for her. That never changed. 

Back then, he made himself believe that it was only professional to schedule one-on-one meetings for plot discussions — especially since she also happened to be the co-writer of the script along with Jisung and Felix — and table readings — since they were the main leads of their short film. However, it was a whole other scene once the duo's meetings were set in motion. 

So it went on one such day; back when Minho had it bad. With every slow nod and dreamy hum, he felt himself drifting off to a completely different world where boundaries of professionalism had been blurred, but he couldn't get himself to care. 

There was only one self-assigned rule to follow; she'd speak intently and he'd stare mindlessly, both of the acts being passionate in their own ways. 

To be honest, Minho still doesn't remember what she explained to him that day. 

"Juice?" Hyunjin suddenly interrupted, seemingly frustrated as if he had to ask twice. When did he even get there? 

Flinching slightly, Minho promptly shook his head. "No, thanks."

"I was asking her," Hyunjin deadpanned, not an ounce of humor evident in his tone. 

But Minho paid no mind to that. He was too flustered at the moment and he was sure that Hyunjin had picked up on something, which only added to his worries. 

Minho expected some unrestrained squealing or at least some lighthearted teasing following the meeting. But Hyunjin never brought it up on his own and Minho didn't understand why. Not until... 

Not until Minho decided to bother the two after their shared math class.

Despite her older age, she and Hyunjin were in the same grade and preferred hanging out after class hours very often. One fine day, Minho decided to pay them a surprise visit with his own treat of juice boxes, out of sheer generosity. 

He was beaming that day, having finally scored higher than he usually would on a chemistry test, but his smile dropped as soon as his eyes fell upon the view behind the classroom door. 

Joy transformed into fragile hurt and in that moment, Minho only had one reaction in mind as he observed Hyunjin using his hand to shield the girl's beautiful face from the unforgiving rays of the afternoon sun.

What an idiot, Minho thought.

"The curtain's right there, dumbass," he spoke up, hiding the juice boxes behind his back. 

Minho's sudden call-out in the hushed setting startled Hyunjin out of his wits. It would've been a sight to relish were it not for the drastic shift from their usual tone and mood of activities. 

Hyunjin didn't say anything afterwards and neither did Minho, who chose to stomp away instead. He silently promised himself to never bring this up in the future. 

They didn't properly talk for a whole week after that. Nobody from the group noticed anything. They were both pretty good actors that way. Besides, hardly any part of the tension stood out enough to risk detection. Minho wasn't much of a talker and Hyunjin had mastered the art of pretending that everything was just as it was supposed to be.

Eventually, however, Minho gave in. Somebody needed to act mature. So he approached Hyunjin when he had enough of dancing around the situation. 

It was after a club session. Everyone was done packing, but Minho knew that Hyunjin was going to leave last, so he took his chances after the last person — Jisung — exited.

"Be honest with me," Minho said, approaching the younger and slamming his copy of the script on the table. "Do you like her?"

It was abrupt, he admits it.

Hyunjin's eyes momentarily scanned the script, blinking in question as if this had something to do with that. 

"Who?" Hyunjin asked, concern evident in his tone.

In Minho's defense, he only intended a slight dramatic effect with his little act, but judging from Hyunjin's startled reaction, it probably came off as a little too aggressive. 

Minho sighed in an attempt to calm his own nerves, before sitting on the chair opposite to the one Hyunjin was on. "Dawn," he clarified. "Do you like her?"  

At that, Hyunjin lost his composure, if he hadn't before. "N- no," he stuttered. "I don't- maybe... no." 

"Hyunjin, I said be honest," Minho demanded, though the softness in his voice made it sound more like a request.

"I don't know, okay? I genuinely don't." Hyunjin groaned. "Is that honest enough for you?"  

And honesty, Minho got. He only realizes this now but the truth shone through the lucidity of Hyunjin words, his thoughts verbalized loud and clear, evidently surer than before.

Minho from the past could still not wrap this concept around his fogged up brain. The signs were all pointing in that direction, towards secretly simmering jealousy. How could it be that Hyunjin didn't know?

"What do you mean you don't know?" Minho asked. 

Hyunjin bit his cheek, cupping his face nervously. "It's just..." he began, lightly tugging at his hair before spitting it all out in one go, "She's just so sweet with you and gives you so much attention and I get it, you two are the main leads of our new project, I get it! But it... it makes my blood boil." 

Minho blinked at him, unsure what to say– what to think, even. 

"Sorry, that was way too aggressive," Hyunjin muttered, slapping his forehead as his blush grew darker. "I know- I know it's wrong of me to think that way because even though you like her, you're not even together, and just..."  

Minho's thoughts rushed back to him like a drizzle escalating into a downpour. "Hyunjin-"  

"But everytime," Hyunjin interrupted, seemingly lost in his own train of thought, eyes and hands restless. "Everytime I try to get closer to her, try to get to know her better than I already do, it doesn't... it doesn't feel right. And I don't understand why when-" 

"Hyunjin, you're rambling," Minho uttered. "And this... stop this."  

For the first time, Minho did something that neither he nor Hyunjin was accustomed to. He slipped his fingers over and around Hyunjin's. 

Hyunjin gazed at him with an uncharacteristic glint in his eyes, which somehow made Minho believe that the best next course of action would be to nod. So he did, albeit awkwardly — gauging that Hyunjin wouldn't let him hear the last of it. 

That stopped Hyunjin from flailing about, so it at least did the trick. 

Carefully testing the waters of their bond and navigating his own feelings in the luxury of time that he was offered, Minho proceeded, "It doesn't have to make sense right now and I'm not gonna force you to decide anything. But if you ever want to pursue her in that way and try to understand your feelings better, I won't come in your way, I promise." 

In that moment, Hyunjin reminded Minho of a glass placed at the edge of a table, just an incautious touch away from shattering.  

"But you like her..." Hyunjin said, barely above a whisper. 

In that moment, Minho was the careful kid who did not want to toy with the glass any longer. A kid whose mother taught him better. 

"I'll grow out of it." Minho smiled, conscientiously pushing the glass out of reach, making sure it's not even visible to his own eyes during a possible childish afterthought. "Not a big deal. What I have with you is more important to me than what I could have with her." 

Minho surprised himself again that day. His words got him the full attention of Hyunjin's most sincere, most vulnerable gaze. It was raw, accompanied with rosy cheeks, and brimming tears. Minho had seen Hyunjin cry before, but never in this way. Never this reticent.

"Minho hyung..." Hyunjin said, as if it was the first time he had pronounced those words. And it did feel like that to Minho. In the raging silence of that room, it felt brand new. It still rings vividly in his head to this day. 

"Hyunjinnie?" Minho murmured, tightening his grip.

For some perplexing reason, he still wishes he could have held it longer.

"You like her." Hyunjin all but gasped, disbelief wilfully escaping his quivering lips at the revelation that wasn't so shocking anymore — or at least that's what Minho thought. "You can do... you can ask... you can... you and her... I- I won't stop you."  

"What's wrong?" Minho asked, furrowing his brows. He placed his other hand over Hyunjin's thigh to relay some sense of reassurance, even though he didn't fully understand what was going on. 

"I..." Hyunjin stammered, freeing his hand from the hold as though he'd been violated. "I can't-" he choked out, hitting his arm against the table during a clumsy attempt at standing up. "Fuck- I... I'm sorry, I can't."  

Somewhere between the shame in Hyunjin's shifting glances and increasingly wobbly voice, Minho could tell that someone stepped on the wrong stone. But he didn't know who. Hell, he couldn't assess the weight of the stone either. 

"Hyunjin, are you okay?" is all he managed to ask. 

Hyunjin shakily nodded, not once meeting Minho's eyes. "I'll be fine. I need some- I need... space, yeah. Sorry..."  

Before Minho could respond, Hyunjin rushed out of the room, not even allowing him a chance to stand. 

Minho still doesn't understand what went wrong then. He's still not sure if that conversation was the determining factor of their relationship's demise. And to this day, he has absolutely no idea what thoughts were darting across Hyunjin's mind.

But in the quiet and desolate state of that room, Minho gained an unsaid, unanswered question that his thought-train halts at everytime he recalls this memory. 

Did he tip the glass in the wrong direction? 

The alarm rings, stealing the crescendo of Minho's curiosity away and putting him back where he belongs: in the barren present. 

After being notified that it's 12:00 P.M., he slowly forces himself up. It is a struggle, given that his brain and body are plainly refusing to coordinate. But he soon ponders over the object of annoying convenience that clings to his arm currently and what better incentive to help him move a muscle if not the thought that it'll be removed soon? And so, he moves along with the passing time and gets changed. 

Dad's Car, 1:38 P.M.  

Minho feels an extra weight off his chest. Well, more accurately, his arm. The cast is gone and, with it, the infinite number of inappropriate drawings and phrases. Some semblance of relief. 

His dad is driving him today and he's grateful because so far, not a single word about the accident or about how Minho should be more responsible in the future have been brought up. 

As they stop at a signal, Minho stretches his bailed arm in frantic movements — much wilder than the ones he practiced with the doctor — just to feel something. It's been a couple of weeks since he felt this relaxed and not pathetically reliant upon a confining bandage. He probably comes off ungrateful, but endless nights of keeping your caged arm erect in one position while slumber abandons you changes a man. 

"Feeling better?" his dad asks. 

Minho knows his father a bit too well to believe that he's only talking about the cast. 

"Getting there," Minho replies.

With the nod he receives, he can tell that his dad catches onto Minho's mood quickly and also that his dad doesn't wish to cross any boundaries. The silence that follows is naturally relieving.

"Thank you for this," Minho eventually says. 

In return, he is rewarded with a small smile. 

Genetics. They both tend to fall short on words. But it's okay because in some way, this helps them assess each other's needs better. 

Minho likes spending time with his father. The quiet company is comforting. 

Maybe if he had let his dad use the car that day, things might've been different today. 

Minho mostly feels guilty about the car, though. The old one was a beauty. Big Man Lee cherished it immensely and it's nothing less than devastating that he doesn't speak a word about it anymore. 

Were it not for what happened that day... 

Minho shuts his eyes, mentally slapping himself. He can't be spiralling, right now. Not when things are somewhat getting better. He really needs to learn how to suck it up and move on. He's had more time than he should be allowed.

"So, will Jisung be staying for dinner?" his dad says. 

"If I let him," Minho jokes. 

His dad grins. "You better, young man. I like that kid a lot." 

Minho leans back in the passenger seat, nodding in agreement. He likes that little sunshine a lot too. Minho owes Jisung everything. That kid is the reason that he's alive today. 

When they reach their home, Minho requests to spend some time inside the car alone. 

"You're not allowed to drive yet," his dad reminds him. 

"I know and I won't do that," Minho responds. "You can take the keys with you. I just need some personal space." 

"Son," his father sighs. "You'll be okay, right?" 

Minho pauses at the lingering question. 

That's exactly what he asked Hyunjin on the phone after their panicked confrontation. The question sounded just as genuine as it does now that Minho is hearing it from another person's mouth. 

"We're good, aren't we? You'll be okay, right?" 

And Hyunjin said...  

"Yeah, I will be," Minho replies. "As long as I have you." 

Smiling, his dad ruffles Minho's hair one last time before leaving him with the promise that he'll always stay by his side. 

Much like how Minho replied to Hyunjin's words in the past — the past that has pretty much become resistant to fading away.

Minho, in his flawed optimism, thought that they were going to be okay after that. But he should've known that nights in hell only tend to get colder.

Back when his mind deceived him into believing things were fine, Minho picked up Hyunjin from his house. It was a silent gesture, an undeclared desire to tell his friend that Minho wanted them to start the big day together. To start anew with their possibly straining friendship. And with the sight of Hyunjin belting vocals in the passenger seat like nothing was wrong, Minho smiled that day too. 

It was the day of their final shoot — a day that no one wanted to fuck up, no matter what. 

Minho and Hyunjin walked into the set's preparations together. It was on the rooftop and the evening breeze pricked at their skin as they greeted their friends. Hyunjin dived right into Jeongin's stiff arms, making the younger groan in protest. Minho couldn't look away from the sight. It's always been true that Jeongin brought out an exuberant side to Hyunjin, gleaming brighter than he usually is, which is to say a lot for someone like Hyunjin. Yes, Jeongin is cute, but Minho still wonders what it was about him that had Hyunjin sparkling with laughter. Surely, Jeongin wasn't that funny, was he? Hyunjin often mentioned that Minho was the funniest person he knew, but Minho barely ever saw that side of him when they were alone. It's just been a bit hard to understand, that's all. 

Jisung found Minho right as he slipped into a daze. Minho quickly became more aware of his surroundings after that. He looked around and flashed a cheeky grin at Dawn too. It must've come off a little desperate now that he thinks about it. 

Everyone was all smiles that day, even though the task itself was challenging. Minho reckoned that much like himself, they were all ready to end this project with a bang and, with it, this hell of a year too. 

And so, the filming began. Minho heaved a preparatory sigh and soon after Felix called for the scene to begin. 

Minho had about three takes, but he knew that it was two or nothing. If the first two didn't do the trick, the last one wouldn't be able to ignite the spark either. Plus, he was acting out a love confession with the very person he had a crush on. It was a make-or-break situation for everyone involved. And so, he straightened his posture, relaxed himself, and got right into it.

"I have something to tell you," Minho recited. 

He turned from the view to gaze at Dawn, slowly drawing closer. His muscles instantly stiffened and his heart threatened to beat out of his control. How was he going to pull this off? 

"The thing is, I..." he trailed off, his glances shifting uncontrollably. "I, um..."  

"Wait, sorry."  

Everyone turned to look at Hyunjin fumbling with the camera. 

"My- my hands slipped," he shyly confessed. It was barely audible, but that may just be due to the wind numbing Minho's ears. "Can we go again?" 

"Sure, let's go for a second take," Felix agreed. "Oh, and Minho hyung?"  

Minho hummed attentively. 

"I think it would be better if you held Dawn's hand while saying your dialogues. Makes it look less awkward, you know? Only if Dawn is okay with it too," Felix suggested. 

Minho gulped. In theory, that was a better option, but certainly not with his nauseating feelings on the line. 

"You're the boss ," Dawn enthused, glancing at Felix briefly before turning towards Minho again. 

That was when Minho knew that he had no other choice but to comply. It's not like he didn't want to hold her hand. God, he so dearly did. It's just that he wasn't sure he was ready for such a feat, for choking out his feelings in such a heartfelt way. He hadn't prepared himself. But he knew he had to act professionally. This wasn't about him, right now. It was about the project in general and about everyone who had worked so hard to make it happen. He had to suck it up for everyone's efforts to pay off. 

"Whenever you're ready," Felix said. 

Minho nodded. He was going to pull this off, no matter what. 

"Okay, positions!" Felix clapped. 

Minho momentarily caught Hyunjin's eye as Jeongin whispered something in the latter's ear. Hyunjin, ever the perfectionist, seemed disappointed. Surely, he wasn't beating himself up over one simple mistake, was he? Oh, Minho was going to give him an earful later if he was. But at that moment, Minho wasn't aware of what he knows now — of what was going to happen later.

Everyone took their designated spots. Minho grinned at Hyunjin, as the latter directly positioned the camera in front of him, and received a timid smile in return. It wasn't the time for Minho to wonder why it didn't feel reciprocal. 

Minho and Dawn turned towards the railing and the scene began shortly afterwards. Minho took in the view in front of him, the amber sky gradually dimming ere the setting sun. He dawdled on it a bit longer this time, assessing his own feelings before breaking into a performance. 

He knew in his heart that this was not fake. He really was using a speech to crack open a bottle of his repressed feelings right in front of his crush. He had to own up to it and handle it with maturity. 

Putting his thoughts aside, he faced Dawn again. A smile escaped his lips as he scanned her soft features, golden and admirable like a prized work of art. Minho pondered over how beautiful she was as he reached for her hand. He was going to do it. He was going to tell her, beyond these blankly memorized dialogues, how he truly felt about her. 

"I have something to tell you," he spoke, caressing her fingers with as much gentleness as he could offer. 

She hummed, soft and sweet. It felt almost too good to be real. 

"The thing is, I like y-"  

But then, Minho stopped. Not because the words got stuck in his throat again or because someone verbally interrupted him. But because the camera lens was facing the ground and Hyunjin's hand was on Dawn's, silently protesting against the act. 

Minho watched as Hyunjin snatched Dawn's hand away from him. 

At that moment, even his own emotions felt alienating. He didn't understand it one bit. He didn't understand why he didn't respond, why he didn't act rashly, why he didn't utter impetuous words out of anger. But he understands it now. 

One thing about betrayal is that it takes its time settling in, like sweet-tasting, slow poison. And when it hails so close to home, it numbs you down in unimaginable ways. 

That is exactly how Minho felt back then. Benumbed. As if a stranger had kicked him out of his own house. As if his own kindness had turned on him. As if he didn't know his own best friend in that moment. 

All Minho could do was stare at Hyunjin until Hyunjin stared back. 

Another thing about betrayal is that once you find it glaring at you so unabashedly, it shapes into the worst kind of mockery. It feels shameful. 

So Minho's ego silently fought back, refusing to let his guard down, until Hyunjin was the one who averted his gaze and withdrew. It was merely a short-lived win for Minho because soon afterwards, Hyunjin ran away, followed by Jeongin. 

After that, every passing second felt like a nightmare, though Minho's mind wilfully did not register most of it. Felix was the first one to break the silence, suggesting to wrap up and continue filming the next day. He didn't face a word of protest. No one said anything, though pack-up had already commenced. 

And then excusing oneself from the scene without offering any explanations became all the more easier. The group cleared out with the tension still thick in the air, until Minho was the only one left to be suffocated by it. But for the life of him, he couldn't move a muscle, not even when Jisung insisted that he should go home too. Minho simply turned away and thankfully, Jisung took it as a signal to not pry further. 

Isolation has always been the healthier outlet for Minho's bundle of nerves when faced with a tough situation. He didn't understand how to access this situation, let alone counter it rationally. And so, isolating himself seemed like the option that might fly. 

Minho stayed at school until evening fell completely, bathing in the last of the sun's prominent hues before convincing himself that what he was doing was pointless. 

Minutes later, he found himself in the car doing much the same. He was hopeless when he was overcome with overwhelming emotions. And these were emotions that he didn't even fully understand. 

In an attempt to flee from his mental prison, he focused instead on what step he was going to take next. 

And then it hit him. 

Dawn.  

He needed to talk to her. Explain things. Make it make sense to her. More than anyone else present at the scene, she deserved answers. 

Minho knew then where he needed to drive to. He could figure out how to approach the rest of the situation later. He just needed to get this one thing done first. 

Absolutely sure of his next step by then, he almost turned on the ignition. Almost. But he was stopped by a phone call. He answered it. 

"Hyung! It's- it's me. Please don't hang up."  

Hyunjin.

Minho reckoned that he must've been calling from a telephone booth since this was not Hyunjin's number. 

"What do you want?" Minho said. He didn't furiously spit it out like he thought he would. His own actions were working against him. But deep down, he also knew that he was heartbroken and the crack in his voice was the result of that.

"I want to talk to you," Hyunjin urgently replied. "I want to explain and... fix things."  

"Right after you fucked everything up?" Minho gritted his teeth, barely unable to hold himself back anymore. 

"I- wh- what do you mean I fucked up?"  

Minho groaned. Hyunjin couldn't be serious, could he? "You grabbed her hand and fucked everything up, Hyunjin. There, I spelled it out for you. You wanted everyone to know how much you liked her, didn't you? Well, congratulations! You did so by holding her hand in front of everyone." 

Minho knew that he was rage-rambling, but he deserved that much after the hurt that his so-called "friend" had caused him, didn't he? 

"No, I didn't," Hyunjin simply stated. 

Minho scoffed in disbelief. "Really? You didn't interrupt the scene by putting your hand over hers? That wasn't you?" 

There was a pause before Hyunjin spoke. "...I did," he confessed. "But I did it only so you couldn't hold her hand. I just didn't say anything while I did it because I didn't know what to say and I admit that that's my fault." 

"You didn't have to say anything," Minho seethed, running out of patience. "You made it clear what you wanted through your actions. You ruined everything." 

The silence that followed was long enough for Minho to glance at his phone to check whether the call was still going. That was one of those rare moments when he couldn't put a finger on what was going on in Hyunjin's mind, not until it was clearly spelled out for him. 

"Did I, Minho?" Hyunjin meekly asked. 

He sounded defeated — hopeless, almost — and it made Minho rethink his words. He did what he was fearing most; he fell prey to his anger. 

But even though he had blurted those words carelessly, he knew in his heart that he meant them. Hyunjin had hurt him. Despite Minho's willingness to back away for Hyunjin's happiness, Hyunjin had cruelly deceived him right as Minho was letting himself catch feelings for the girl that, evidently, both of them liked. There was no way of sugar-coating the damage that Hyunjin had caused to their bond by not only lying but outright proclaiming what he truly felt in front of their friends and complicating things in the worst way possible. Minho knew that his reaction to the whole ordeal was honest, to say the least. 

"Yes," he replied, "you did."

"Right," Hyunjin deadpanned. "Fine, then."  

Some more silent seconds caused Minho to ponder again until he reminded himself that he had no time for this. 

But before Minho could utter a word, Hyunjin suddenly spoke up, "All these years... all these years and you still don't know anything about me." 

Minho was confused. Was Hyunjin really blaming him for what happened? Or was he making an issue out of nothing to redirect the conversation away from the real problem? Either way, Minho did not like his tone at all. 

"The funny thing is," Hyunjin went on, "I thought I had you memorized too, but I never really understood what it felt like talking to a stranger until this very moment." 

"So, you're just going to question my loyalty now? After what you did?" 

"Don't you see that the problem is bigger than that, hyung?" Hyunjin fired back. "You know what? Forget it. I doubt you even understand what this bond means anymore." 

To this day, Minho doesn't understand what possessed him to give him the confidence to utter his next few words. All he knew was that a knot had been severed and, with that, his resolve had been made firm. "Then end it." 

"What?" Hyunjin said, appalled. As if that was the worst thing that either of them could have declared that day. 

Minho didn't have the power to drag it on any further. He was going to see Dawn soon, so he had to make his stance clear. 

"I think it's clear enough already," Minho stated, staring out of the window as if the lampposts were capable of giving him some semblance of moral support. "We can't be friends anymore." 

The first sound that he registered was that of deafening silence. 

Then he heard a brief, scornful laugh. 

Minho couldn't back away now. He had voiced what was true, he couldn't give into any last strands of weakness. "I'm sorry, but it's for the best," he added. 

"Minho hyung," Hyunjin finally spoke. "Do you remember the first snow?" 

"What?" 

"Because I do. I remember every little detail like it was yesterday." 

Why is he doing this now?

"Hyunjin." Minho sighed. "You're not listening-" 

"I remember the exact number of times my telephone rang when you woke me up at midnight," Hyunjin continued. "I remember how much our parents scolded us afterwards. I remember how upset I was at school the next day and the faces you made to cheer me up. I remem- I remember that you promised, you promised that we would play in the snow together after school was over." 

Minho froze as soon as Hyunjin's voice broke. He knew what was coming next and he was not prepared for it. He never could be.

"I remember-" Hyunjin sniffed, evidently trying his best to hold it in. "I remember the way you teased me and said you won't take me sledding when I asked, but you did." 

"Hyunjin, please..." 

"I remember it all," Hyunjin choked out. "I remember the way I laughed, the way you smiled." 

Minho could tell that by that point that Hyunjin had become inconsolable. Because he started crying the moment he spoke those last few words. It hurt everything holding Minho together too. 

"I remember how happy we were, Minho."  

That was it. The final straw. 

Despite the distance, Minho could physically feel Hyunjin shaking, getting torn apart, withering like a flower desperate for rain. 

Minho could do nothing but listen patiently as his world crumbled beneath his feet. His ground was losing fertility to the cold and all he could do was sit there as if that meant nothing to him. 

Minho hated himself for it. He still does. And one regret he still carries with himself is that Hyunjin stopped crying without seeking out Minho's comfort. That sealed it. They had become strangers. 

"When you watch the first snow with her," Hyunjin continued once he stopped crying, firmly but with venom coating his tongue, "I hope she captures it in her memory well. Just like I did." 

Minho's heart sank. That wasn't hurt anymore; it was plain, unfiltered anger. It was similar to what he himself was feeling at the start of the call, just a lot more intense. 

"And, for her sake, I hope it's not for nothing," Hyunjin concluded.

Minho then heard a loud thud on the other end of the line. Hyunjin must've slammed the receiver, but he didn't do it properly because Minho could still hear what happened next. 

He heard Hyunjin writhing, thrashing, and tossing something across the area. 

He heard the way it shattered, whatever it was. 

He heard the way Hyunjin screamed. 

Then Minho hung up. 

Minho could handle a lot of things — regrets, grief, confrontation, anything. But being informed that Hyunjin loathed him in such a vehement way? He knew he couldn't take that well. 

Time and again, remembering this very incident is what makes him blame himself entirely. But then he remembers why he did it. 

Because it had to be done. He had to distance himself from the person who meant the most to him because they were both hurting each other, living in a toxic space stemming from jealousy. 

Minho told himself then that it would be fine, that he'd just take a break and be back.

The next call that he received was from Jisung, who asked him if he got home safely. And Minho, for the life of him, could not hide his true feelings from Jisung.

Jisung made Minho promise that he would get home safely and talk to him once he calmed down, that they'd work this out together. And Minho, mindlessly so, agreed.

But he still sped up recklessly. Out of rage? Out of heartbreak? He didn't know. He still doesn't. He didn't even make it to Dawn's place that day, but that's hardly important. 

What he does remember, other than Jisung's disappearing voice, is the rapid flash of memories of delicate snowflakes, right before the car crashed into another vehicle. 

Minho gasps when reality finds him in the form of someone suddenly knocking on the car window. 

His startled heart regains composure once he notices Jisung waving at him from the other side. Minho opens the door and Jisung joins him inside. 

Jisung's first instinct is to hug him and Minho allows it, no questions asked. He's grateful that Jisung always knows exactly what he wants. Still, it's hard explaining to his friend what Minho is doing inside the car — or, was doing just a while ago. It takes time and the burden of concerned eyes, but Minho comes around with honesty. 

And then Jisung returns with the exact question that Minho was avoiding. "Do you miss him?" 

Minho feigns ignorance. "Sungie, do you remember the day of my accident?" he asks instead.

"Every detail." 

Minho can sense how worried his friend is, but he chooses not to think about it. "You remember the first thing I said to you when I woke up?" Minho fiddles with his fingers. 

"To not tell anyone until you were ready," Jisung replies. The way he sighs next can either indicate that he's in no mood of recalling the dreaded past or is still disappointed in himself for abiding by Minho's unreasonable demands following the incident. 

Minho weakly smiles, possibly to ease Jisung's tension, though he has no idea where he was going with this sudden nostalgia trip. 

"Why did you tell me to do that?" Jisung softly asks. 

"Because I didn't want to talk to anyone." 

"But Dawn found you." 

Minho sighs. "She did." 

"And?" 

"And nothing." 

"Nothing? That's it?" Jisung interrogates. "You two didn't talk about anything important?" 

They did. Minho remembers all of it. 

He remembers finally telling her how much he liked her– how much they both liked her. 

He remembers her apologising because she didn't return the feelings. That she only ever saw him as a friend. That she only thought of Hyunjin as a little brother. 

He remembers staying silent until she left because for some odd reason, he didn't want to beg her to be with him. 

He remembers wanting her to leave, though he had no hard feelings towards her, to somehow liberate himself from this mess. 

He remembers crying. 

"Nothing that matters now," Minho eventually says. 

Jisung flashes a glimpse of sympathy right before Minho's mother shows up with the announcement that dinner is ready. That's when Minho realizes that he's been sitting inside the car for almost three hours. He really is an expert at losing track of time. Always has been. 

Minho's Room, 7:21 P.M.  

Having memorized the room ever since he was a kid, the first foreign object that Jisung's eyes land on is Hyunjin's unattended and almost forgotten diploma. Minho pretends not to notice the look he receives, albeit briefly. He pretends to dismiss the fact that his friend can see right through the embers of the past searing through the surface. 

"How long are you gonna hold on to this?" 

"I'm not holding onto it." 

Although it's not a lie, it almost feels like Minho is trying to convince himself than he is trying to convince Jisung. Earlier, he informed everyone that he was going to drop the diploma off at his former friend's art studio by tonight, but now that he thinks about it, that doesn't make much sense. In all practical sense, he should have delivered it at Hyunjin's doorstep long ago; he could've done it before his appointment or maybe even after it. But rationality be damned when pride is in charge. Or is it fear? Either way, Minho is not willing to dive into this conversation. 

Jisung drops it just as quickly too, focusing instead on tackling Minho on the bed, possibly to change the topic in the most Jisung way ever, maybe even to distract Minho or himself or both of them. Minho squeals in protest, but even then he laughs wholeheartedly, gratefully. 

"Snap out of it, Sergeant Barnes!" Minho protests. "You're my friend!" 

"And you're my mission," Jisung declares, deep-toned and dramatic, before smacking a pillow in Minho's face. 

The little shit helpfully takes advantage of the ever-swelling soft spot that Minho has for him, but he won't be spared tonight. Minho takes the blow like an injured foe ready to respond with a deadlier attack, and he does. He shoves Jisung to the other side of the bed and mercilessly mounts on the younger's back, laughing maniacally as Jisung's face sinks deeper into the mattress by the weight. 

Jisung taps out in surrender soon after, making Minho vibrate with hilarity as both of them struggle to breathe for starkly different reasons. Once the pitied friend is able to sit upright again, they both glance at each other before dissolving into renewed laughter once again. 

"Since when was Captain America this violent?" Jisung interrogates, coughing his way through his words. "When was it ever that deep?!" 

"I am no morally white Steve Rogers," Minho clarifies. "I am morally ambiguous, mysterious as they come, ruthless, and remorseless Lee Minho!" 

"Yeah, you made that very clear." 

As the hour of fatigue strikes, they both collapse on each other's sides, staring at the ceiling in silence for a few seconds. It's so quiet that it's impossible to miss the way Jisung gulps beside him. Minho can already predict what's coming. 

"Are you gonna attend the get-together?" Jisung asks, hopefully. 

"Yeah," Minho answers. "It's the least I can do for Felix after fucking his pro- your project over." 

Jisung snickers and Minho starts to regret his words shortly afterwards. "You didn't fuck up anything, nobody did, it's okay," Jisung says. "Felix and I laugh when we look back at it. Not our proudest collaboration, let me tell you." 

Jisung fakes nonchalance but Minho knows him better than that. He knows how much that project meant to the two of them before everything all but collapsed. It wasn't a laughable attempt in the slightest, but Minho knows better than to try to convince Jisung otherwise. 

"And the script?" Minho tests instead. "You still have it?" 

"I burned it two days after the project failed." 

Minho doesn't put up a facade this time. He gazes at Jisung, quick as lightning, with several questions on his mind. "You burned it?" 

Jisung nods and Minho's face turns dark. There was a time when a mere mention of — let alone someone's insistence on being enlightened about — the project had Jisung's face illuminating like a euphoric daydream. Minho saw him working with Felix days on end, even during lunch and after school hours. Minho was even informed about the lengthy video calls that would last the entire night. How could Jisung just burn all of that without charring a part of himself with the flames? 

Minho only flashes Jisung a long, sympathetic look, which Minho's sure doesn't go unacknowledged, much like the vulnerability on Jisung's face. Words are failing him and Minho despises himself for that. He only scoots closer to Jisung and squeezes the other's hand, which Jisung correctly interprets as a signal to invite himself into an embrace. Minho tightens his grip around Jisung's frame and doesn't let go until they're disturbed by the ringing of Minho's phone. 

"You better get that," Jisung whispers against Minho's shoulder. 

"Don't worry, it's just an alarm reminding me of hell," Minho replies. 

Jisung chuckles. "Is the world ending?" 

"Something like that." 

"Still, though, turn it off. It's violating my ear drums." 

"Yes, your majesty," Minho says, before doing as he's told. 

He only realizes he's been staring at his phone for a second too long once he hears Jisung's voice behind his back. " 'Return Hyunjin's shit' ," Jisung reads. "There, I read it for you. Still having trouble comprehending that?" 

It's all lighthearted banter, but for some bizarre reason, it sends chills down Minho's spine. He doesn't understand why since this isn't the first time Jisung has done something similar. (He once shamelessly read Minho's embarrassing texts to Hyunjin out loud in the library. The kid has no concept of privacy when it comes to Minho's life.) But if Minho wasn't hyper aware of how much he's being perceived, he wouldn't be so moved by the edge in Jisung's voice. He knows that he didn't just imagine that. Regardless, this whole exchange has him overloading like a robot smarting its way out of code limitations. Only, it doesn't broaden his purpose like any rebellious AI in a movie. 

Minho has never been one to stare at something primitive for too long. Yet here he is, staring at his phone faux insouciance as Jisung's words echo in his head. In contrast — perhaps in a long lost world now —, Hyunjin (ever the man of capturing the moment in a lens) would be the one to stare at anything and everything. Flowers, skies, stars, clouds, animals, other human beings, Hyunjin would capture it all in his devices' eyes and sometimes even in his mind's lens. 

At one such occasion, when autumn began to descend on them, Minho caught Hyunjin staring at him. 

"What?" Minho asked, looking up at Hyunjin's looming face from where his head was resting on the latter's lap. "Like the view?"  

"Want an honest answer?" Hyunjin quirked an eyebrow. 

Minho hummed. 

Hyunjin grinned, glimmering crescents and all. "That's too bad."  

And the last thing Minho captured in his own lens that day was the way Hyunjin's body shuddered with laughter beneath him in an escalated moment of play-fighting. 

"Excuse me," Minho says, abandoning his phone and getting up from the bed, not even sparing Jisung a glance. "I need to wash my face."

The Starry City Streets, 8:01 P.M. 

Despite his father's insistence on dropping him to his destination, Minho opts for strolling down the streets alone in favour of having a little date with the stars for a while.

He doesn't bother ringing Jeongin up beforehand to confirm whether Hyunjin would even be at the studio at this hour. So not only is he risking walking all this way for nothing, but he's going to show up in front of Hyunjin's face most likely unannounced — on the off-chance that Jeongin hasn't informed Hyunjin already (which is impossible). All that's left is for Hyunjin to decide whether he wants to estimate his chances and avoid Minho overall or tauntingly appear right in front of Minho, stubborn as he is. It's as if Minho is willingly diving headfirst into quicksand all over again. 

In the morning, he was certain that he didn't want to see Hyunjin's face ever again, but the mere sight of the forgotten diploma sparked something in him. Now here he is, hours later, wondering why the hell he's taking step after step towards possible damnation, and not retreating and running back home. 

Minho reluctantly stands in front of the building, taking in a deep breath as he scans it. It's been so long since the last time he visited this place, back when he wouldn't hesitate to just run up the stairs to meet his friend. But these are different circumstances. He hasn't even practiced what he's going to say once he sees Hyunjin again. And as he wastes time letting his negativity dwindle in the fresh breeze, he realizes that he should've prepared a script. He's not half bad with those. Because seriously, what is he going to say? 

Sighing, he steps inside and avoids the stairs in favour of taking the elevator. Hyunjin's studio is located on one of the higher floors and Minho calculates that his knees might buckle by the time he gets there — whether through the elevator or not. The weight of his hardening heart is enough. At this point, he doesn't even understand what ground he's standing on; all he knows is that he can't stop walking until he's fulfilled his impetuously self-assigned task. 

Minho stops in front of the door to Hyunjin's studio, hands clammy and shaking. He stares at the knob for an odd amount of seconds before closing his eyes. He really doesn't have time to think through his grand-entrance speech when he can't even navigate his emotions properly. Oh, fuck it. He turns the knob and practically forces his body inside. 

When he opens his eyes again, he's met with stacks of colourful canvases — some unfinished, some discarded, and some neatly arranged —, but their artist is not present inside. 

Minho sighs. All that overthinking for nothing. But he's glad that the job is easier than he thought it would be. 

He reckons it wouldn't be so bad to wander around and check out Hyunjin's artwork for a while. So he does. And while doing so, he wonders where Hyunjin might be. 

Minho instantly concludes that the spirited stargazer might be paying a visit to the rooftop. Not a hard guess. It's a pretty night, after all. And if Hyunjin really is up there, he's not coming downstairs anytime soon. 

"Stars are my safe place," Hyunjin told Minho the first ever time they got irresponsibly drunk together. "They hold me together during times of grief. They comfort me when no one else does. Much like you do." 

"I'm a star to you?" Minho chuckled, nose and ears heated with insobriety. 

"Yeah." Hyunjin grinned, just as squiffed. "Everything wonderful, everything precious, everything safe is." 

Minho stared. On usual instances of Hyunjin being this emotional, Minho would laugh in his face and call him dramatic, just to mess with him. But that night, under the light of their twinkling hosts, Hyunjin was vulnerable. So Minho didn't laugh, he didn't even so much as smirk. 

Minho zeroed in on the wistful nature of Hyunjin's voice. Minho watched as Hyunjin tightened his grip around the railing and tilted his head upwards with that light of a smile on his face. Minho felt his heart grow fonder in a way that it never did before. He never felt the need to protect anything in his life, but he knew then that he wanted to care for Hyunjin forever. He wanted to be that safe haven on the darkest of nights. He wanted to earn his title as Hyunjin's star. 

"You deserve to be cared for," Minho spoke, surprising both himself and Hyunjin, whose head spun impossibly fast. 

It was strange of Minho to say something that emotionally charged. It felt foreign. They both knew that. Still, Hyunjin smiled. "You do too," he said. "Which is why we'll always be each other's stars, yeah?"  

Minho's gaze never wavered for a second as he thought about it. The truth was glowing in Hyunjin's eyes as he said those words, which is what made Minho put his faith in them. 

The morning sky is momentarily blissful. The afternoon sky is scorching and burns brighter than what feels true. The evening sky changes hues every hour until eventually it fades away. But the shimmering night sky, with its glorious moons and twinkling dots, never fades away. 

This was the thing about Hyunjin. He was the night sky, ever-present and wholehearted. While the dusk fell to dawn and dawn to everlasting darkness around Minho, the light stayed. Hyunjin stayed. He truly, genuinely was a star. Minho's star. 

"Like the view?" Hyunjin teased, catching Minho off-guard. 

It took Minho a second to process that his own joke was being used against him, mostly after Hyunjin started laughing in his face. "Oh, fuck you," Minho said, groaning before going straight for a headlock and making Hyunjin squeal into the next dimension. 

Minho smiles at the memory before realizing that he has been aimlessly walking past the canvases without paying any attention to them. He did acknowledge their beauty, but overall he zoned out. Again. 

See, when you challenge yourself with a job as simple as returning something important to somebody who once meant something to you, you don't mope around all day thinking about what once existed between you and said someone. However, Minho has completely fucked himself over in that field countless times today. He's beyond hopeless. 

Sighing, he walks away from the canvases lying around and that's when the current work-in-progress catches his attention. 

He walks closer to the tripod stand, places the diploma on the nearby desk, and seats himself on the stool close to it. 

Squinting to examine beyond the purple hues, Minho makes out an almond-shaped eye with an evident sparkle in the center of it. Minho can't contain his lopsided smile. Typical Hyunjin.  

Then it occurs to him. After all the lost time and despite all those ashen memories, there is still twice the touch of a glimmer in his newest painting. Hyunjin is still fond of stars. 

"Still holding onto the nightlife for safety, huh? You never change, do you?" Minho mutters. "But it suits you, so I hope you never do." 

It is Minho's next realization that makes him frown. He misses Hyunjin. 

This entire time, all he did was lie to himself. But he really, with all of the pain in his soul, misses his guardian angel, his star, his... Hyunjin. 

Is it too late to fix things now? Can't they move on and pretend that none of this ever happened? Can't Minho somehow go back in time and undo his own mistakes, erase his feelings for Dawn, and start over? 

He furiously shakes his head. What the hell is he thinking? Of course he misses his best friend, but it's well-past over. He was the one who severed the ties, so where is all this even coming from? 

And yet... 

Yet he can't stop thinking about this, about them, about him. God, what has become of them? 

Barricading the irrationality strictly within his mind, Minho forces himself to suck it up and get done with what he was here to do. He grabs a sticky note and pen from the desk and begins writing. 

"Be more responsible in the future." 

He stares at the words. This is not enough. He pens down one last, honest message. 

"Miss you, little star. - Min" 

After some reluctance, he sticks the note on the canvas and gets up to leave. That is until something behind the tripod stand catches his eye. 

He spots a camcorder positioned opposite to where he was just sitting, a blinking red light indicating that it's still filming. Minho almost panics, rushing at once to delete whatever footage has been recorded. He curses Hyunjin for being the pinnacle of irresponsibility yet again. 

As soon as he stops the recording and checks the data storage, he's surprised to find that the video is much longer than the five minutes that he's been inside this room. Out of curiosity, he plays it. 

It starts off with no one in the frame, until Hyunjin makes an appearance a few seconds later and sits on the stool. He's wearing overalls on top of a white shirt. He somehow looks older than the last time Minho saw him, maybe even thinner, and his hair is dark and long and neatly parted. If Minho were someone who was passionate about judging people for the way they looked, he'd say that Hyunjin has only gotten prettier. But that's an undeniable fact for someone who's only grown beautifully into his features, these past few years. 

Hyunjin sighs as he stares at his painting. 

"The Eye of the Night," he dramatically speaks. "The Evening Eye? The Starry Eye... ah, fuck. I don't know, whatever." 

Minho reckons that Hyunjin must be struggling to name the painting. 

"All I know is that you're larger than life, wonderful, and safe like the person you belong to," Hyunjin continues. "My shining star," he sighs, "my Minho hyung." 

Minho freezes. There is no way that this incredibly painted eye is his. Sure, there is some resemblance, but– 

Minho then hears a voice echoing in the hallways, getting closer by the second. 

"I know, Jeongin, I know. I love Felix and all the rest of you and I'll try my best to be there. But you have to understand my position too, okay? ... Okay, great. Thank you." 

Hyunjin. 

Oh fuck. 

Minho pauses the video and desperately looks around, heart beating out of his cheat. He needs to disappear. Right fucking now. He'll gladly break the window and jump out of it if he has to. He'll barely stick the landing and will definitely obtain another set of broken bones, but he's strong enough to- 

Oh wait, there's a storage room. 

As soon as the footsteps outside the door come to a halt, Minho tightly grips onto the camcorder and sprints like he never has before. Chan and the kids would've killed to see this. 

Focus, Minho. 

He hears the click of the door right as he successfully hides behind the storage room wall. There is no door separating the studio from the storage room, but if Minho quietly stays put and waits it out for a little longer, Hyunjin might just leave soon. It's getting late anyway. 

Then it hits him... 

He's holding the fucking camcorder. 

What was he thinking making a run with the damn thing in his hands? And what about the diploma? And the sticky note? This is easily one of the worst days of Minho's life. 

"Anyway, fuck all that. How was your day?" 

Oh, so Hyunjin is still on call with Jeongin. Temporary relief. But for how long? 

Minho shakes the thought aside in favour of strolling further inside the dark storage room, which is crammed with art supplies and a chair or two. Minho can only see so much in the dark. 

A minute passes and Hyunjin still seems distracted by the call, all while Minho is growing impatient with stress. He doesn't know how much longer he can stay here or what he can possibly do to turn the situation in his favour.

But then he stares at the camcorder and realizes that there's only so much he can control. Even out of foolishness, if he has this thing in his hands, why not make use of it? 

He slowly creeps up to the furthest corner of the room. He's risking giving himself up, but how much longer can he really hide? So, takes a deep breath and plays the video. Curiosity wins the game.

"I've always thought of him as my guardian angel," Hyunjin says with an endeared smile that gradually transforms into a look of hard-hitting realization. "I think I've got it... the Eye of the Angel!" he enthuses. "Okay wait, that doesn't sound as cool when I say it out loud." 

Minho suppresses a chuckle. Hyunjin can be a cute idiot sometimes. 

"But anyway, as I was saying," Hyunjin continues, "Minho hyung... he's always been there for me. To joke around with me, to cheer me up, to protect me. He's always been better and wiser than me."  

Minho disagrees. He believes that he's a lot of steps behind Hyunjin when it comes to being empathetic and that in itself is wisdom that's difficult to achieve. Hyunjin is smart when it comes to his own feelings and the feelings of others. Minho cannot say the same for himself. So in terms of relationships, Hyunjin is much better. He always has been anyway. Minho is the one who ruins them. 

"Obviously, he's better because I tend to cause problems wherever I go," Hyunjin admits, "whereas he keeps things together. He held me together for as long as he could too, but then..." he sighs. "But then I broke him too." 

"No, you didn't," Minho finds himself whispering. "I was the one who-"  

"And with it, I destroyed the only love I've ever known." 

Minho furrows his brows. What...?  

Hyunjin dryly chuckles. "If I could change one thing about that moment, I'd go back and hold his hand instead of Dawn's. I'd tell him that it was never about the girl. It was him who I had jumped in the fire for. It was him for whom I'd do it all over again." 

What?! 

"And if I really could do it again, I'd tell him how much I cared for him. Because I did and I still do. I love him so much." 

Minho muffles a gasp with his hand. This can't be true, can it? Surely, he's misinterpreting Hyunjin's words. It must be a huge misunderstanding. It must be–

"But I also know that I'm probably beating my younger self up because..." Hyunjin sighs, "because why would he have liked me? He liked Dawn. Fuck, he liked Dawn too much and I was just... a friend."  

Holy shit... 

"And if I had told him, he would've laughed at me-" 

No. 

"-or pushed me and called me a freak-" 

No... 

"-or told me to go fuck myself and never talk to him again." 

God damn it, no! 

"I couldn't possibly match up to his level anyway because he's... he's Minho hyung. And I'm just a stupid boy who fell in love with his best friend who would rather choose a girl over me." 

Shit... 

"And he did. He made that choice. And that's okay. I was the one who ruined everything, after all. I wasn't worth much anyway. I'll learn to get over it someday." 

Minho's head starts to ache. The video has barely crossed the middle mark, but he can no longer watch it. So he shuts the camcorder. And as the silence ensues, his heart rate fires up to an unbearable extent. Aside from his ringing pulse, all Minho can hear are echoes from the past. Core memories experienced very differently by two minds that were meant to have a connection stronger than that. 

"One star for me, one for you ... for when you'll be a star on the big screen ... I love stars ... want an honest answer? ... we'll always be each other's stars, yeah? ... hyung, you like her ... do you remember the first snow? ... I hope she captures it in her memory well, just like I did ... I wasn't worth much anyway." 

It was all right there. Right in front him, in the way Hyunjin's eyes gleamed whenever they met Minho's, in the star-studded boy's smiling crescents that only embraced Minho's snark with endless kindness and... love. 

But Minho never noticed a single gesture until just now, right when it's been spelled out for his dull-witted and selfish brain. 

Minho's head spins. He failed his little star. He failed his most cherished bond. He failed himself. All for what? 

He feels faint. But just as he absentmindedly spins on his heel to hold onto something, his mind is faced with nothing but pure dread as his eyes land on no one but Hyunjin himself. 

Hyunjin, who looks nothing short of bewildered as if something tragic has swept his feet off the ground, stands there with the sticky note in his hand. Static and frozen. Much like Minho. 

Hyunjin gulps, as he reluctantly steps forward and extends a hand towards the camcorder. "I'll... I'm gonna... need that," he says, voice low and insecure.

Minho doesn't move a muscle. "Why did you hold her hand?" he quietly asks.

"I ha- I have no idea what you're talking about," Hyunjin lies. "Please, give me that back." 

He reaches out for the device this time, but Minho only backs away, retreating further into the darkness. "Is it... is it all true?" 

Hyunjin halts in his place for a second, not daring to look Minho in the eye, before resuming with determination. "Minho, please. Give that back to me," he demands, gritting his teeth in frustration as he treads even closer. 

"You don't think I deserve an answer at least?" 

"I don't owe you anything!" Hyunjin raises his voice. "We're not friends, remember?" 

"But we're way past that stage now, aren't we?" Minho calmly reasons. "Why didn't you tell me anything, Hyunjin?" 

Shadows cast over Hyunjin's features as he corners Minho in the dark. "Fuck- just hand it over!" Hyunjin exclaims, voice on the verge of breaking.

"Not until you explain things."

In his heated exasperation, Hyunjin speedily marches in Minho's direction to retrieve his possession. Minho hurriedly steps backward, hiding the device behind his back before Hyunjin can snatch it from him. But right as Hyunjin aims to seize it, one wrong step makes him trip on something neither of them can see. Before Minho can dodge the younger's tumbling body, Hyunjin topples over him. Minho falls on a chair and Hyunjin lands on his lap. 

They groan in unison, wincing as the sharp pain sets in. In his brief seconds of distraction, Minho doesn't realise that his hand is impulsively placed around Hyunjin's waist. And when he does, Hyunjin realizes it too. Now both of them are frozen again, breathing unevenly against each other's faces in the dimmed silence. 

Somehow, Hyunjin still has some fight left in him to get his hands on the camcorder, but Minho instinctively extends his arm even further. 

"You're still just as stubborn, aren't you?" Minho accuses.

Hyunjin pants, struggling get ahold of his target. Minho can't see his face, but he can guess that Hyunjin is irked to some degree at least. 

"Stop making this harder than it already is for both of us!" Minho exclaims. 

Hyunjin doesn't reply. 

"Hyunjin!" 

The struggling continues along with the silent treatment. 

"Hyunjin?" 

Minho's suspicions are confirmed once Hyunjin finally stops making strained efforts and hangs his head close to Minho's chest, letting go of choked up sobs. 

Minho still deems it necessary to ask, "Are you crying?" 

"I c- I can't see you..." Hyunjin weakly replies.

Minho lets the silence sit for a while, not knowing how to respond. "That's because…" he begins. "The room, it's-"

Hyunjin cuts him off, "You got into a car accident..."

Minho stares in shock. "I d- Jisung told you?"

Hyunjin doesn't respond.

Minho sighs, instantly understanding what that means. "I did. I just..."

"I can't fucking believe you," Hyunjin snaps.

"I just didn't know how to- I wasn't sure- I didn't think-"

"Fuck you-"

"I didn't think you'd care!" Minho argues.

"Fuck you so much , Minho! Of course, I'd care! Are you fucking serious?!" Hyunjin fires back, but it's mostly out of hurt than it is anger.

And it's valid because Minho hurt him in a way that isn't justifiable. Now all he can do is stay silent and listen as Hyunjin punishes him with strangled sobs. And that's okay too. Minho deserves that. Hyunjin has suffered enough.

Minho relaxes his creased face and apologetically brings his aching arm forward. He slowly brings his hand closer to his lap, around which Hyunjin's legs are wrapped, and places the camcorder on it. 

They both don't utter a word as Hyunjin finally folds his shaky fingers around the device, head still hung low, voice still wet with tears. 

With his dominant hand now liberated, Minho caresses Hyunjin's cheek, partly to feel the tears and partly to lift the younger's face so that they can somehow try to see each other. As dim as the room may be, they can count on the twin flickers in their eyes to offer some guidance. After all, stars only find each other in the darkness. 

But Hyunjin closes his eyes before Minho can see them. He mumbles something that Minho doesn't quite catch. 

"What?" Minho asks. 

"I'm sorry," Hyunjin repeats. "For... all of this ." 

"For loving me?" 

"Yeah " Hyunjin sniffs. "I can't put this on you- it's- you don't deserve this burden." 

"You are not a burden to me," Minho reassures him. "You're my bes-" 

"Best friend," Hyunjin bitterly supplies, still crying his heart out. "I know. I am- was . But it's not that simple. I fucked up and-" 

"Hey," Minho whispers, lifting his chin up a little more and softly linking their foreheads before closing his eyes and shushing Hyunjin. "You're right. It's not that simple. It's not. I fucked up too. But I... you're here now and I can't handle this anymore." 

"What?" 

"This distance," Minho clarifies, slightly opening his eyes to make sure that this is not a figment of his imagination, that Hyunjin is really here. "I'm done running. I care for you too much to do that anymore. I want to protect you. I... I guess what I'm saying is... I want to be with you, Hyunjin." 

Hyunjin sighs. "Now, you're making this harder for me because I can't suddenly stop loving you, Minho. It's not that easy." 

"Then, don't," Minho firmly states, "because I love you, too." 

Hyunjin instantly backs away to stare at him. "You... what?" 

Minho doesn't need a second to think twice. "I do." 

"No, you don't- you can't just- you're not thinking this through- I..." 

Hyunjin is right about that, but Minho is done thinking. He's done pretending and lying to himself. He's done waiting to ignite another fire and watching everything he loves burn around him. 

Now that he finally has his arm wrapped around his constellation, his mind can't be any clearer. And the last thing he wants is for this to be taken away from him. He was responsible for letting that happen once, but not again. Never again. 

"I love you, my little star," Minho states, boldly and patently.

Hyunjin gasps. "But... how- why?" 

Because Hyunjin is the only one who shines on Minho when nothing else does. Because Hyunjin paints landscapes of a world that Minho wants to be a part of. Because Hyunjin captures every single one of their memories in his heart and only allows the key to Minho. Because Hyunjin loves and gives it his all to that love, and it's about time for Minho to at least try to do the same. Because Hyunjin is a rare star and the only one that Minho has ever needed, but he was too self-absorbed and thick-headed to realize that any sooner. Because what he feels for Hyunjin is beyond what he felt for Dawn or what he can feel for anyone else in this whole expanse of light and dark. 

"Because," Minho begins, "you're you... and I'm me... and we're both... stars... for each other." 

He waits for Hyunjin to reply but realizes a second too late that Hyunjin is waiting for him to continue. 

"Honestly, that sounded way better in my head," Minho confesses. "But anyway, I love you. That's as good as I can do for now, I'm sorry." 

Hyunjin chuckles, hesitantly at first and then wholeheartedly. "It's good, I think..." he says, shyly fiddling with the camcorder. 

Minho hums. "So..." 

"So?" 

Minho widens his eyes. "That's all you have for me?" 

"Uh, yeah?" 

Minho clicks his tongue. "Jesus, Hwang, I thought you'd have a speech prepared or something. I was seriously relying on that!" 

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process that information and when he does, he rolls his back in laughter — music that Minho's ears have been deprived of for so long. "You're so..." he says, visibly shaking. 

"You're so," Minho squeakily mimics, which humours Hyunjin more. 

As much as Minho tries to bite it back, the unbridled sound escaping Hyunjin's lips invites a pleasant smile on Minho's face, especially when Hyunjin instinctively encircles his arms around Minho's neck. 

"Hey, idiot!" Minho defensively calls out, still grinning. "Look here." 

And when Hyunjin gazes back at him with more love than Minho has ever seen in his eyes before — despite the dull lighting —, Minho boldly leans in for a kiss. 

Hyunjin lightly gasps at first but welcomes it by pulling Minho closer. Minho reciprocates by holding Hyunjin's waist in place. 

They're still young and inexperienced. And they can barely see anything, including each other. But everything about the moment is perfect. 

Hyunjin smells like home and Minho is overjoyed to have made his long-overdue return.

The Beach, 5:15 P.M., 25th March  

"You guys are on time for once." 

"Hey, Minho's here!" Felix exclaims, scurrying barefoot across the sand to hug Minho. 

The impact almost tips Minho's footing. "You're happy," he points out. 

"I didn't think you'd make it," Felix says, meeting his eyes. 

"Surprise?" Minho grins. 

Felix mirrors it, before dragging Minho to a table that has been set up by the group surrounding it. Almost all of them are here. True to tradition, they greet Minho by screaming in his face, wildly excited that he's here. Covering his ears, Minho nods to return the greeting. He glances at the contents on the table. A cake isn't the first thing that he expected to see today, but life is full of surprises, he assumes.

"I made it," Felix proudly announces, instinctively slapping Jeongin's hand to prevent the youngest from touching the icing. 

"With help," Seungmin clears his throat. 

"Yeah, you damn near burned the kitchen, you dog." 

"It wasn't that bad!" 

"What's the occasion?" Minho cuts in. 

"Just the reunion," Felix says. "I mean, all of us are here so the idea didn't exactly fail." 

"All except one." Changbin frowns. 

"Oh, Hyunjin?" Jeongin asks. He opens his mouth to speak further until... 

Minho beats him to it, "He said he'll be here soon." 

Right before this moment, the group in sets was engaged in different conversations — some bantering, some catching up, some fooling around, and such. But just as Minho utters that sentence, they all put a pause on their own activities and turn to stare at him. "Shocked" is an understatement. 

"What?" Minho says, not because their reactions aren't justified, but because he has no idea how to approach the situation after casually dropping a bomb on his friends. 

"How do you know that...?" Chan questions, on behalf of all the faces in Minho's vicinity that are riddled with confusion. 

And as if on cue... 

"I told him myself!" 

Their gazes promptly fix on the magnetism that is Hyunjin's timely presence. Minho turns around, last of all, and the sight knocks a breath out of him. Hyunjin's wearing a sleeveless fit, the pastel colours fitting the blues of the theme, and his hair is longer than the last time Minho saw it, possibly due to extensions. As he gets closer, sharing an intimate wide smile as he catches Minho staring, Minho notices the white streaks in his partly tied hair. Hyunjin looks stunning. 

Hyunjin joyfully launches into a discussion with the others. Something about seeing each other again, or how long it's been, or how different they all look. It's all a blur to Minho, who can only silently focus on the ethereal boy's crinkling face as he talks. 

"Minho?" 

Minho almost jumps when Hyunjin's eyes meet his own, especially in this close proximity. The windy site isn't helping his reddening face at all. 

"You didn't tell them," Hyunjin shyly asks, "...about us?" 

Seeing Hyunjin's pink cheeks is relieving. At least Minho is not alone in this misery. He shakes his head. "You didn't, either?" 

"No." Hyunjin purses his lips, gaze fluttering all over Minho's face. "I didn't know what to say." 

"Me neither." Minho smiles. "But it's okay." 

"Yeah," Hyunjin smiles back, squeezing Minho's hand softly. 

Chan clears his throat. The two jolt in surprise, only to find the rest of them either looking terrified out of their wits or suppressing their giggles. 

"Care to explain?" Chan raises an eyebrow. 

Minho and Hyunjin share an oh-shit-they're-onto-us glance, before willing themselves to give it a shot. 

"Well, I went to the art studio that day and um," Minho begins, albeit nervously. "We kinda... accidentally... stumbled upon each other and, well..." 

His eyes beg Hyunjin for help and the latter nods shakily. "Yeah, we... um, talked about things. And we sort of... made ou- up," Hyunjin shuts his eyes, "made up." 

Minho's cheeks are on fire at this point. "Y- yeah, yeah, exactly. And we just-" 

Nobody looks impressed by the explanation. 

Hyunjin tries harder, "We were- kind of-" 

"It was-" 

"You kissed," Jeongin deadpans, "cut the bullshit." 

Minho and Hyunjin inhale at the same time. 

"Yeah, we did." "Yep, that's it." 

The others peer at them. One second. Two seconds. Three... And then they burst out laughing. 

"You two are so transparent!" Jisung wheezes. "It only took forty-two years!" 

"Fucking tell me about it!" Jeongin adds. "Hyunjin's pathetic yearning had me losing hair for the entirety of last year." 

"Hey-" 

"And let's not even talk about Minho," Jisung all but yells. "Loser spent every moment apart from Hyunjin in so much agony as if they were lovers separated by war and he thought it was because he was angry at his "bestie" . It was sickening!" 

"Han Jisung, do you want a boot shoved down your throat right now or-" 

"Oh, they were were lost causes," Jeongin drags out. 

And as their best friends whip out every embarrassing coin of knowledge, Minho and Hyunjin groan and hide faces from the easily amused audience. 

"Fuck this," Hyunjin declares at some point, before reaching for one of the smoke bombs on the table and going ham. "Bye, assholes!" 

It works. Soon after, smoke bombs are tossed around one after the other until it turns into a party of hues and an improvised game of tag. They paint the winds as they chase each other around the beach, feet sinking into sand and mud. 

At some point, Changbin and Felix abandon the game in favour of twirling while holding their smoke bombs, tempting the others to do the same. Hyunjin joyfully joins in. A few minutes in, they collide with each other and almost topple over. The remaining boys find amusement in that alone. 

When the adrenaline dies down, they brace their knees and drop to the nearest seats — or the sand, clothing care be damned. Soon after, Chan and Seungmin push everyone to discard the waste, grumbling about getting done with it before the fatigue really sets in. 

And when all is done and the sun bids its farewell, Felix gathers everyone around the table. Once they all surround his sides, he lights a candle and carefully lifts the cake. 

"Hold on!" Hyunjin quickly says, before setting up his camcorder on the table. 

Minho notices the familiarity in the form of the two stars on it and smiles. It's the old one — his gift to Hyunjin.

"Okay, we're good!" Hyunjin says, before taking his place beside Minho and hanging onto the latter's arm. 

With the biggest grin, Felix closes his eyes and blows out the flame. The moment is celebrated with loud, embarrassingly high-pitched cheers. 

"What did you wish for?" Seungmin curiously asks. 

Beside him, Changbin gives him a smack on the head. "Idiot, you're not supposed to ask these things out loud!" 

Felix laughs. "It's okay, I think my wish has already been granted. What are wishes if not dreams that are prayed upon?" He looks around, glancing at all of them. "And dreams come true to those who truly want them." 

From this angle, Minho can tell that Felix receives the fondest of smiles from all around him. 

"You're right, Lix. I prayed upon a star to fulfill my wish and," Hyunjin turns to make eye contact with Minho, "here we are." He smiles. 

Minho's heart feels warm, content, and whole. But once it dawns on him that he's Hyunjin's dream, chills run down his spine and the responsive heat makes him flush. Though, even as he grins, he needs to wisecrack to be on brand with himself. Or at least to cover for his heated cheeks and ears. 

"We all know I'm the man of your dreams, let's move along," Minho remarks, smirking. 

"You wish." Hyunjin rolls his eyes. 

"It came true, didn't it?" 

"We're all also very much present here so please stop flirting," Seungmin protests. 

Everyone agrees. Now both of the subjects of discussion roll their eyes. 

After turning down Jeongin's "generous offer" of distributing the cake "evenly and fairly", Chan opts to do it himself. While everyone else settles at the table, Hyunjin excuses himself to pull his chair closer to the sea and have his piece there. Minho reads his mind instantly. 

"Mind if I join you?" he says, adjusting his chair beside Hyunjin's. 

"Of course, not." Hyunjin smiles, helping Minho out by holding the second plate as Minho struggles to jam his seat in the sand. 

Groaning once the chair finally digs in firmly, Minho dramatically sighs before testing his efforts by seating himself. 

"Don't worry, I doubt it would drop you," Hyunjin assures him, handing the plate back.

"The chair's fine, it's the sand I'm worried about." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know, something about it feels evil." Minho shrugs. 

Hyunjin laughs. "It is hard to get it off your skin, so I get what you mean." 

Minho knows that he's speaking random bullshit, but Hyunjin still entertains him. That's one of the reasons why he likes Hyunjin so much. It automatically makes him smile. 

"So," Hyunjin begins, "what brings you here?" 

"Wanted to watch the stars," Minho answers, forking up a bite from his piece of cake. 

"You could do that from there too, you know?" Hyunjin says, taking a bite from his own slice. 

Minho briefly smiles at the sparkle in Hyunjin's eyes, before tilting his head upwards. "No, I couldn't." 

From the corner of his eye, he can tell that Hyunjin is blinking at him. The sky is particularly starry tonight, but Hyunjin is enthralled by Minho instead. It's somewhat flattering.

"Like the view?" Minho smirks, still star-gazing. 

Hyunjin's gaze falters. He scoffs. 

"Because I do." Minho finally turns to his side, tucking a wind-blown strand behind Hyunjin's ear. "I like it a lot." 

The last thing that Minho sees is the wonderstruck gleam in the eyes of his little star, before Hyunjin kisses him intently. It's rushed, but it's quiet. It's calm. 

Hyunjin is serene. He's everlasting, just like the love that they have for each other. 

"I love you," Hyunjin whispers, as they part and link foreheads. 

The morning may have a short lifespan, the afternoon may be hard on the eyes, and the evening may be deceiving, but the night is young and spirited. 

Dusk might retreat and dawn might fade away. But the stars never will. Their love never will. 

Minho kisses Hyunjin's forehead. "I love you, too."