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Dust particles and rainbow reflections dance in the sunshine cutting through their living room, soft laughter and muffled banter filtering through the window that never completely shuts or opens. Minho would never indulge if it were not for the tranquility their sunbathed apartment provides but he smiles, slightly relaxing in place, as he hears Hyunjin's hearty laughter, the way he throws his whole body back with the force of it a vivid image in his head.
He lazily walks towards the window, silent to the world, stopping along the way to pet Soonie who's sleeping in a patch of sunshine on their ratty old green couch. His jaw twinges when he hears the bathroom door slam shut and he sighs to himself, mentally preparing for whatever that was going to be like. He squats to get his face smashed in the never closing gap of their window and stares into the rooftop surrounding their apartment, and for the first time, he registers the second person, a new face, in their space. Something moves in his gut and he resolutely does not feel it.
"Hey, hey, Hyunjin-ah" head gently pressed against the gap of the window, Minho makes his presence known. But Hyunjin doesn’t hear him, suddenly entrapped by the charcoal strokes he is putting on a rather large canvas set in front of him.
Hyunjin gets like this sometimes, too suddenly enamored with the way art comes and becomes out of his own hands, too entranced by the way the medium behaves beneath his fingers, like it has a life on in its own; he’s an artist at heart and soul after all, and Minho would take the fact that he finds it incredibly endearing and adoring to the grave. The man sitting on the floor does notice him, however.
"Hyune…" the newcomer points to the window with a tilt of his face and his voice is so deep Minho can't help but blink rapidly at him in surprise, a telling he never bothered to unlearn.
He’s beautiful, Minho idly notices, has a galaxy of freckles across his cheeks he’s too far away to tell if they’re make-up or not, plump lips, and soft kind eyes, round and inviting, like the world is still full of wonder to him. He thinks it’s befitting, for him to be sitting so prettily next to the one in love with life. Even without knowing the other man, he thinks they match, and he hates himself a little bit more for last night. Hyunjin turns to him.
"Minho-hyung, what are you doing up so early?" Hyunjin's eyebrows raise in a way Minho knows he's about to be a brat "The sun is up, you will burn." There's an underlying question in between his words, small print writing up concern, that Minho only catches after being roommates with Hyunjin for so long.
"So brave for someone so close to the edge of a very long fall" it's easy, falling into mindless banter, easy to ignore the way his guts beg to be spilled in their little rooftop, beg to be seen, be heard, be cared for and care back. It's easy to ignore his own heart, he has been doing it for one too many years now.
"Who's brownie boy, by the way?" Minho asks, deflects, his head motioning towards the man, catching him mid bite, very obviously amused by the back and forward, a tilt to the edge of his open mouth giving him away.
"Hey" the man gives a smile as bright as the sun framing him, "I'm Felix," he waves with the hand holding a little brownie piece. Minho half ignores him, still looking at Hyunjin for a detailed explanation. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, the brat, and says;
"He's a friend from the live sketching class I told you about," he looks back at brownie boy and gets a very small nod in return, that easy smile still plastered in its place, "He is the model for them actually! Today we did action poses; he was great at them.” Hyunjin turns momentarily towards Minho and just as quickly returns his attention to Felix, long arm reaching to pinch his redding cheeks. “He even baked those himself, my little angel."
"Yeah, ok, hello," he dismisses him, dismisses his own bleeding heart, with a wave of his hand, "Is that a whole tupperware of brownies, brownie boy?" he blinks slowly at the container, as to make sure he's not imagining the sheer size of the thing.
"Yeah," he taps it lightly with his free hand, "Do you want some?" his head turns to the side slightly, inviting.
Minho squints, sunshine too bright; the sun behind him as well. "Give me a minute.” He gets up from his spot before he gets a reply.
He walks toward the couch, picks up his dark brown corduroy jacket and pats the pockets looking for his cigarette pack, throwing a meaningless prayer to nobody in particular that he kept them there and not in the discarded jeans in his bedroom’s floor. He hums in appreciation to past Minho when he returns victorious from the left pocket. He picks up the shitty, chirped ashtray he picked up from a second hand store and goes outside.
Minho opens the door to the terrace with a bang, and a childish sense of satisfaction grows in his gut when Felix startles slightly at the sound. Taking stock of the wind, he moves to the side farthest away from Hyunjin and taps his pack against the railing, pulling out his lighter and a cigarette from it. Placing the end in his mouth, he ignores Hyunjin’s judgmentally concerned little frown, like he always does, and lights it up.
“Nice breakfast, Hyung.” Hyunjin says, half exasperated, half defeated. Minho just flashes him the fakest of tightlipped smiles he can muster, and he takes a drag.
“Here, at least take one?” Felix says while opening his tupperware and lifting it up in Minho’s direction, squinting one eye against the sun.
Before he gets to decide whether to take one, there’s a tap against the window so loud it startles the three of them in unison. He sighs under his breath, taking a drag before lifting his head to look at his one night stand’s eyes. He’s unassuming, if rather a plain man, short brown hair styled to the left with one of those faces you forget the second you look away from it. Minho doesn’t even bother with fake pleasantries and the other man doesn’t even give him the room to try, pointing at the direction where the front door is, before giving a wordless little nod. Minho watches in passive numbness as the man leaves their apartment, giving Soonie a wide breadth as he crosses the couch and he can’t help whatever expression crosses his face. Hyunjin laughs at him, like he always does during mornings like these, and Minho isn’t gone enough to believe it is all worthy just to hear him laugh but it terrifies him that is damn near.
"Tell me at least he was fun last night," Hyunjin says between giggles.
"Like a three out of seven," Minho says with a wave of his hand.
"So another punishment then. what did he do?"
"He was annoying." Minho says, flashes of last night coming in waves; a watch too big, laughter too obnoxiously loud, meaningless brags about things Minho had shared no interest with, and he can’t help but roll his eyes even then. "the dick was good, the thing attached to it however…"
“Thing” Hyunjin repeats incredulously, far too romantic to ever understand a petty fuck, “It was a person, Hyung”
“An annoying one.” He says with no heat, no heart, nothing but that old familiar numbness.
“Then why did you fuck him?” He hadn’t forgotten about Felix, he was just great at ignoring his problems. The question makes a tornado out of him, but he keeps it all neatly locked away.
“Was bored mostly, might as well,” he says, sounding hollow even to himself.
"I respect that," Felix says, simple and honest, and Minho’s head spins.
"Do you really?" Hyunjin asks in disbelief, and an old familiar stinging makes his throat itchy. He puffs out smoke, body half turning away from the conversation.
"Why wouldn't I? I don't fully get it but I respect it." Felix shrugs and the oversized leather vest he’s wearing follows his shoulders in an almost comical way.
"Why are you hanging out with this brat?" Minho asks, pointing at Hyunjin, because Felix is too good to even be real to begin with (and he might not even be, Minho has never been trusting of pretty faces, or pretty hearts - there always seems to be a catch, and he viciously wonders what Felix’s will be, what will be his breaking point), but then again, he doesn’t need to ask why Hyunjin. No, Minho gets it better than anyone ever could, he’s just following their routine to keep sane. He’s good at that, at playing it up in that familiar territory, makes him feel less like he is free falling into oblivion, less like he is just making it up as he goes, which he is, but that’s beside the point.
"Hey!" Hyunjin says, just at the right moment, familiar, and Minho dodges a playful smack with practiced ease.
"Why are you rooming with him?" Felix asks him, razor-sharp, and it would have been maddening but he’s smiling a sweetly impish little smile, lips slightly pursed, one eyebrow raised to his hairline and it oddly reminds Minho of Soonie, playful sharp claws hooking in soft tender flesh. He goes a little hysterical with it, and he pushes it all down with another drag of smoke.
"I'm stuck with him" He says, and it is a bit too close to the truth for his liking, but he’s running on three hours of sleep and maybe he’s getting a bit tired of pretending, or maybe it’s just Felix’s presence messing with his sleep riddled mind in indescribable ways. He isn’t willing to bet against either.
"I'm still right here." Hyunjin says, one hand in the air, and he's easily ignored.
"Ah, then me too.” Felix replies and Minho hopes he’s reading too much into the small note of understanding in his voice. “He proclaimed himself my friend and he hasn't given me the room to object yet.”
"What?” Hyunjin exclaims, now scandalized. “Baby angel, light of my life, what are you even saying right now? You don't like me?" There's a pout on his lips, but Minho knows it’s just for show and he can’t help but roll his eyes as he puts out his cig.
"I like you a lot Hyune" Felix placates, honest smile still in place and he wonders if his cheeks ever hurt after long days.
"Aw, you better Yongbokkie, or I'll make you!" Hyunjin lunges for Felix and Minho hides the way his lips twitch in amusement at the sound Felix makes the best he can.
Minho tunes out their banter at that, taking a seat on the floor and closing his eyes against the winter morning sun. Hyunjin wasn’t wrong, it was way too early for his nocturne schedule, after all.
They fit, he thinks idly, they fit very well.
Hyunjin laughs again and he can’t help opening his eyes to steal another small moment of joy. Hyunjin looks happy, Minho notes. He hums.
He looks at them, looks at Felix and his easy smile, and he takes a brownie.
✶
Being a spring baby has its perks, Hyunjin thinks as he stares at their little rooftop’s makeover with fond eyes; having the best friends ever does too.
Warm fairy lights and candles light up their rooftop, creating a calming contrast against the coldly lit cityscape surrounding them. Folding tables line up the far wall, set up with just about every liquor one might be interested in, mixers and snacks lining up the rest of the space, with some ashtrays thrown in there. The little handmade decorations hanging up on the walls warm Hyunjin’s heart more than the daiquiri in his hand warms up his throat and core. He looks at each individual little piece of craft paper, sees the ragged edges in some and he smiles, giddy, already thinking how he’s going to repay this little treasure they gave him. Oh, to love and be loved is so wonderful, the greatest thing that comes with existence. Hyunjin cheers with himself, drowning the last bit of his drink in one celebratory gulp,
Hyunjin is drunk and happy.
Sitting on the ground with his back against their window that doesn't ever open or close properly, he looks at the few handful of people he truly loves mingling with each other, the gravel beneath his hand a tether to the earth beneath him, the empty glass at his side a promise that it doesn’t have to be. He thinks he deserves to indulge, one doesn’t turn 23 every day.
His social battery running low, even despite his happiness, he concentrates on people-watching for a bit. His eyes naturally land on Minho wearing that deadly plum-colored silk shirt he put on as part of his gift for him, he is sure of it, who is in deep conversation with Jisung, a friend from Minho's work Hyunjin is still too petty to fully befriend. Minho laughs, fully and heartily, body tilting forward, closer to Jisung, and Hyunjin drags his eyes away before they can give him away.
His eyes next land on Felix, his beautiful angel in leather, and subconsciously he smiles. He loves Felix, Felix is good to him and doesn’t make fun of him for being a helpless romantic, or how messy his hands get while painting, or how much he loves him. Felix is nice, he thinks, pure-hearted and loving, and he sometimes can’t help but wonder what it would be like to love him in a different way. It would be nice, wouldn’t feel as different as he feels right now and he gets lost in the tenderness he can picture his Lixie giving oh so readily. Felix was made to be loved tenderly.
Hyunjin hums as he watches Felix visibly lock eyes with someone across the rooftop and Hyunjin follows his eyes to find Chan standing at the other end of this tether. He likes Chan too; he is another pure-hearted man he wishes he loved a bit differently, and he thinks good, those two will have something to talk about, and even if they didn't, they would found something to make conversation with, his wonderful social butterflies.
He stares as Chan approaches, an easy smile already lazy in his mouth and the strangest thing happens, Felix doesn't respond to it. Hyunjin thinks, in a moment of distant concern, that something must be oh so very wrong for Felix not to immediately smile at a person smiling his way.
Maybe Chan is an ex, Hyunjin thinks already beginning to giggle to himself, mouth feeling like rotten cotton, maybe Chan and Felix fucked nasty and Chan remembers but Felix is having that crisis where you're sure you know somebody but don't really remember where from. Maybe, he thinks a bit deliriously, Chan robbed Felix and he's coming for more! Hyunjin cackles alone at his birthday party on the rooftop floor and it would be so sad if it weren't so immensely absurd, if he weren’t so tremendously content.
As he comes down from his giggle fest, he idly notes that Felix's chest stops rising the second Chan gets a word out. He blinks at them, at his Bokkie, trying to figure out if he should intervene, unsure in his drunken haze what to make out with the way he’s standing rigidly with his arms limp at his side, mouth slightly open and eyes blinking rapidly. But then, there it is, his precious Yongbokkie's smile, the sun itself stored in the curve of his lips. And now it's Chan's chest's turn to stop rising and falling, lazy smile falling into something a bit softer, a bit more involuntary.
Hyunjin thinks, if he weren't already so pathetically, cowardly in love, he would be jealous of them, either or. As it is now, however, he can't help the way his gaze drops from those two, the aimless thought that they will either make or break each other suddenly diminishing into a hum as his eyes land on Minho again, still in deep conversation with a now giggling Jisung.
He gets up from the floor.
From the corner of his eyes, he sees Felix throw his head back in laughter, and the way Chan looks at him stays with him even through his hangover.
(So much so that he approaches Chan during work on monday.
“I saw you hanging out with Felix on Saturday, " Hyunjin says with a playful raise of his eyebrow, eyes intent, and he is delighted to see Chan’s ears immediately reddening under the attention.
“Well, hello to you too Hyunzales,” His hyung, so sweet and hopeful to believe he could deflect from this, with Hyunjin on the case no less. How adorably, naively wrong he was.
“Don’t act dumb with me, hyung”
“I would never,” he mockingly puts a hand on top of his heart, squeezing his chest slightly with his words.
“No, yeah, you just are,” He dares, because it’s the tail end of their shift, and teasing his Channie-hyung is one of the few delights he gets from working customer service for him.
“Ya!” Chan exclaims, playfully faux-offended, and Hyunjin’s laughter bubbles out of him as his hyung tries to put him in a headlock.
Hyunjin laughs as he dodges, but he straightens right away, mind set and unable to move on, "No, but seriously what was up with that? I saw you…" fall in love , he doesn't dare say "two talking. It was a sight." he adds, because he can't help himself.
"You were drunk, Hyune, we were just talking," Chan busies himself with keeping on shelving cds, dismissive but not shutting the conversation fully down. Hyunjin follows him along.
"Just talking? Really?" he gives chan an incredulous look, "Have you seen Felix?"
"Yeah, he’s gorgeous and his freckles are like galaxies and his smile is very, very beautiful and warm and he does this thing where he scrunches up his nose when he finds something amusing, it’s so adorable, but, uhm, yeah, we were just talking haha"
Hyunjin can't help but stare a bit after whatever the fuck all of that was. Something tugs again at the back of his mind, the dramatically romantic side of him telling him that he could be responsible for Chan's fortune or his ultimate demise and he idly thinks this is too much power for a mere mortal to play with.
"Uh, sure." he eventually says, "Do you want his number?" He thinks of the rooftop and hopes for the best.
"Yes please," Chan caves immediately, "Just because he’s an Aussie bro, ok? There’s nothing there, I promise," he sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than anything and Hyunjin just pats his shoulder, nodding along to the nonsense while taking his phone out.
"Sure thing, hyung. Sure thing.")
✶
Fall winds slightly messing with his hair, Minho takes another drag as he hears Hyunjin laugh and laugh at another one of Jisung’s dumb jokes. He knew introducing them was going to be bad for his blood pressure, expected a certain level of tomfoolery knowing both of them, but he never quite imagined the levels at which they’d bond.
Minho thinks back to Hyunjin’s initial hesitancy and wariness regarding Jisung, the way he had always uncharacteristically dismissed all the work anecdotes that included him, and he thought he was safe. Safe from the effect that Hyunjin has on people, safe from the charisma Jisung oozed; a selfish creature too afraid of what the meeting of both of those unstoppable forces might have brought to his already hurricane of a heart. But, no, like always he held the knife buried in his guts and he twisted it, pushing for their friendship, pushing to be proven wrong and doomed it all. And he did.
The laughter gets louder, and he catches the tail end of one of Jisung’s sketches Hyunjin seems to not get enough of and he thinks he deserves this, he got what he was asking, begging for.
There’s nothing there, Hyunjin had said, we’re just friends. But Minho is just Hyunjin’s friend and here he was, so that didn’t really put anything at ease.
It’s not that he doesn’t want his friends to befriend each other, nor that he wants to dictate who Hyunjin interacted with, he just wants to mean something more, something special; he wants to be the exception, he wants everything he can’t have.
He huffs, tapping his cigarette in the handmade ashtray Hyunjin made for them during summer, exclaiming that the one Minho kept using was the ugliest shade of yellow he had ever seen. It’s painted a warm peach color with a tabby cat sleeping in the left corner of the seams, serene and with a little blush on his cheeks Minho gave shit Hyunjin for, to hide the way his stomach had dropped the second he laid eyes on it. He looks at it, thinks of the living room, looks at the edge of the railing, and sighs. He doesn’t have any right.
Arms folded on the railing, breathing smoke in slowly, Minho looks down to the streets and catches sight of Chan's bike a block away, two bodies impossibly close together on it. It stops at the hidden area between the cafe on the street corner and their building.
He curiously can't take his eyes away as the second the bike stops, Felix gets out and immediately starts to talk to Chan, ignoring the probable way the sound of the bike still revving drowns out his words. For half a second Minho fears Chan wouldn't stop the bike at all and would just leave Felix standing there, but then it abruptly stops.
He gets down and Felix is immediately on him, this time not speaking but just staring intently at him. Even from afar, Minho can almost feel the intensity of those cat-like eyes trained on him himself; he has been there before and it was not pleasant but not not pleasant either. Minho watches in horror as Chan does something only the bravest or foolishest of men could ever do, he ignores Felix, passing by him like he was just a ghost, and something snaps in Felix. He, reflexes sharply fast, grabs Chan's arm. Chan stops but doesn't turn, and Felix very calmly says something before letting go and approaching their building.
"Shit." Minho puts out his cigarette on the opposite side of where the tabby was painstakingly painted on and he rushes inside.
“Incoming,” he says to the three in his living room, “They’re fighting.” He doesn't have to specify who.
“Oh, shit,” Jisung says, quick to drop his feet from their coffee table and straightening in place.
“Everybody stay calm, we know the procedure,” Changbin says quickly pulling out his hand-rolled cigarettes, Felix's favorites.
“Don’t think we will get the chance," Minho says, going towards the door, “It looked ugly,” there's a knock the second he finishes his sentence and it feels condemning. Hyunjin swallows and nods, alert on the loveseat. Minho opens the door.
“Hi, we’re going to use the rooftop real quick,” Felix says, no bullshit tone stopping all of them in their tracks.
“Felix,” Chan reproaches, low and dangerous.
“Chris,” Felix replies in the same nature, hand minutely tightening around Chan’s wrist, and softly tugging inside the apartment.
“Sure, you know where–” Minho says, giving them a wide breadth as they pass by him as one would to a feral dog in the streets. Felix turns on the TV as he passes by it, makes Chan go through the door first, as if afraid he’d turn tail and run, and he slams the door shut. "– it is."
“That’s not polite Felix. Have some goddamn manners,” Minho makes his way toward the couch but doesn’t sit, eyes trained on the window that never closes or opens. He can’t see them, thankfully, but the sound filters through the never closing gap loud and clear.
“Fuck your manners, Christopher, fucking talk to me” Jisung hisses at the full name mention. It meant Felix was close to breaking, it meant they were close to breaking, and here it came, the moment they all have been trying to avoid, desperately trying to salvage an unsalvageable situation for the sake of their friends.
“There’s nothing to talk about Felix, just drop it” Changbin clicks his tongue, and puts the unlit hand-rolled cigarette that was meant to placate Felix in his own mouth. Minho sees Hyunjin frown at him from the corner of his eyes, and he would say something if he weren't itching to do the same.
“Yes, there is” Felix sounds desperate, Minho distantly notes, and if it were even one month earlier maybe he wouldn't feel as askew by it; the need to console their sun heavy in his arms.
“No, there isn’t because I don't have any right to feel upset right now–” Minho closes his eyes in a wince. That was Chan's biggest flaw; too big of a heart, blood dripping out of his sleeve, tainting everything in his path.
"Shit," Hyunjin says quietly and Jisung wordlessly nods beside him.
“I fucking knew it, you’re such a–” Felix's voice raises slightly, cutting in whatever other blood-red truth might have spilled from Chan's lips, and Soonie leaves the living room in an orange flash. Minho wishes he could follow him, but he is frozen in place.
“A hypocrite?” Chan raises his voice too, matching Felix’s desperation “I fucking know, ok! I know. What am I supposed to do–”
“You don’t get to do this to me," Felix cuts in again, "Not after her and him, and him and them and whoever else you never got the chance to showcase to me,” the sound of the TV is the only thing living on, all of their breath held at the same time. “You don’t get to make me feel fucking guilty for trying to get over you.”
“I am not trying to make you feel anything, Felix, that’s why I said to drop it." Chan sounds like he is begging, like he's on his knees and repenting for things he never realized he was doing, "I can’t help if I feel stuff, I can’t shut that off, I can't shut you off, I tried” he sounds very small.
“You’re not trying enough!” Desperation clings to Felix's throat and it’s almost too much, it’s almost painful to hear. Minho looks at his own hands and wonders if he should have known better. “Try harder then!”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to!” The whole room goes ice cold.
“Well me neither!” Then, silence.
“Now, who’s the fucking hypocrite, uh?” It’s ugly, venomous, and mean, pointed, and Minho had never heard Chan sound so human. “You were the one that told me to stay away.”
“And I meant it.” from the corner of his eyes he catches Changbin closing his eyes, jaw tense, him being the one there for Chan through the worst of it. “You are too much Chris, my heart can’t take it without breaking,” Changbin gets up and leaves the apartment. “Look at us,” there’s a pause, then almost a whisper eaten by the sound of the tv, “Look at me.”
And there’s the feared truth, the sun has been imploding in on himself for the past few months and nobody was brave enough to bring it up in a way that matters. They sat there, at loss as to what to do, as Felix broke himself down to his very bare components and nobody had the face to lie and tell him that Chan wasn’t worth his tears, because that would have been a disservice to Chan, and Felix himself too. If anybody were to mourn the love of their life that never was, who was Minho to tell him how to do it? The reality of the matter and what sucked the most, what was the worst of it all, is that Chan and Felix made each other as happy and as miserable as one could possibly make another human; it was just the current tragedy that they ended up on the misery side of things. But that was all bullshit now, as Minho heard how small and bare Felix sounded, he would never be able to forgive himself for not doing more, for either of them. For his sunshine, at least.
“I break your heart?” Minho is helpless as his eyes fall on Hyunjin.
“All the time.” Hyunjin is already watching him.
“What about mine, Felix,” Chan's voice breaks and Minho forces himself to keep staring into eternally deep brown eyes, “What about my heart? You are killing me, Felix.” Everything is so small, so desolate and broken, Minho can’t take it anymore. He moves, unfreezing his limbs, and turns the TV off with the remote.
“Show's over boys,” He tells the remaining two, and they both immediately sag in place, obviously having been waiting for somebody to kickstart their leave. “Let's go downstairs.”
(As they’re leaving, he grabs Hyunjin’s arm before he can cross the threshold of their home.
“Hey.” He thinks of the rooftop, the muffled cries he can hear even at this distance and he dares hope. “Can we talk? I mean, after…” he gestures uselessly to the door, losing momentum as eternally brown eyes stare at him blankly.
Minho feels his own heart give out on him as Hyunjin hesitates, heart clear to see in the sleeve of his hand-painted leather jacket, but a loud sob gets ripped from somebody’s throat on their small rooftop and that’s seemingly all it takes for Hyunjin to steel himself. He looks at Minho right in the eyes and says;
“Yes.”)
✶
Their little rooftop feels small, and clammy, with eight grown men crammed into it but Hyunjin wouldn't have it any other way. He wasn't particularly fond of summer, always preferring the spring winds, but he was fond of the sun, the fruits that came with it, and the longer days like these. He sits on their little rooftop in a folding chair they found two blocks away last summer, freshly made lemonade cooling his hand, with his friends at his side, and he lets it all consume him. He falls once again into people watching, social battery completely down after the day he had, but he loves every minute of it.
It's summer, and Hyunjin is half in love with his friends. It's nothing new, a simple reality that he lives with proudly. He loves his friend, can feel it like he feels the sun against his skin, can taste it like he tastes the overly sweet lemonade Felix made for them, can see it in himself with the way he laughs and laughs at every little thing they say. He loves his friend half to death, and he never felt more alive.
He loves watching his friends in their element, loves watching them interact and blend into one. He loves Changbin and Jisung’s impromptu serenades, loves the way Seungmin will roll his eyes at them but will hum alongside them. He loves the way Jeongin’s smile never wanders too far from his lips, quips ready to shut down any babying they might try to throw at him now already twenty-two with piercings to almost match. He loves Felix's readiness to follow a bit, easy smile and big eyes always ready to do what brings the biggest smiles out of the rest of them. He loves the way Chan looks at them all with a certain magnitude of fondness that gets too much to stare at after a while. He loves Minho – he loves him. He loves them all.
He knows he isn't the only one to love just as hard as he does, he is aware that they all love each other in ways that are a bit too precious to say out loud, as trivially. He knows some of them love differently than him too, and that doesn't make it any less real, any less all-consuming to him. There’s his little Angel and his Hannie, the way they love the most similar to his own, all-encompassing, forever burning in their guts, their hearts, the way that they look at the rest of them. Then on the other side of the spectrum, there is Minho and Minnie, the type to love from afar, the type to love quietly and in mundane ways, its own brand of sweetness to it. But love is love, to Hyunjin, and it doesn’t matter what shape it comes in, he will always readily treasure it against his greedy heart.
His eyes fall to Changbin and Chan as they share a secretive little glance, corners of their mouths up in satisfaction as their friends laugh at some joke probably at their expense, and he doesn’t try to stop the fond, appreciative smile that tugs on his lips. He knows too, and how could he not, that there are different types of love at play in their little circle, his love for Minho heavy on his heavy heart, pouring heart, a dead giveaway of this. But it isn't the only obvious way this manifests in; the way Changbin and Chan love each other is its own behemoth of intensity, a love so pure and everlasting it goes beyond all human labeling, and it's beautiful to witness. The fugitive peaks he gets to see every once in a while a delight to his own empathetic heart, and he thinks now, after living alongside his Lixie for some time, he gets it a bit better.
His eyes slip from Chan to Felix, who's already watching Chan, and Hyunjin's fingertips tingle in excitement. That's another enormity on its own, brand new and still figuring itself out, and Hyunjin giddily has been a proud witness of its unfolding in real-time.
Felix loves Chan, he is aware of this, can see it clear as day as he can see his own love reflected in him. He knows they have this unspoken thing about them, precious little treasure stored between the space their hands always seem to gravitate towards and it is fragile, so very special not even the rest of them dare speak on it, too afraid of the consequences acknowledging it might do to the two victims of its enormity.
Hyunjin understands this, understands the importance of silence, he is a victim of this crime too, has been so his whole life it seems, but he wants more for Felix and Chan because it is different for them. If both of them are victims of the same crime, then nobody is doing the murdering, nobody is doing the stabbing in the guts.
Or maybe, he thinks as he looks at the way Felix brings a hand to his mouth in an effort to hide his growing smile the more Chan laughs at them, maybe he got it all wrong. Maybe they’re both doing the stabbing, maybe the guts spilled all over their little rooftop is a self-fulfilled carnage; maybe they’re holding two knives, one against the other’s jugular and one to their own stomach. That would make more sense, if the way Felix looks at Chan has anything to do with it.
Felix is staring at Chan in a way Hyunjin has never seen, both with the certainty of love and heartbreak mixing into one molotov cocktail ready to be spilled down his freckled cheeks, and he gets it now. Hyunjin looks down and he can almost picture the red blood spilling from his exposed guts on the floor and he can’t believe he is the only one noticing this supernova imploding in on itself on their small little rooftop.
He looks around, watches as Changbin and Seungmin team up to tease Jisung, Innie and Minho egging them on, Chan’s laughter bittersweet in his ears, and he can’t help but feel for Felix too. He has always been sympathetic to a damaging degree, Minho always told him so, but he can’t help but to feel this tragedy like it’s his to suffer because he knows, he is deeply aware that Felix will never admit to it out loud, and that is a tragedy all on its own. Hyunjin thinks of his Angel, his sun-kissed cheeks, and his star-filled eyes, he thinks of the love he is depriving himself of and he wants to sob for him.
Hyunjin doesn’t even try to stop himself from looking in Minho’s direction and his heart aches and bleeds, and begs and begs inside of his chest and, with the taste of sweet lemonade in his lips, and a stone lodged in his throat, he breaks his own heart.
✶
Felix stands on the rooftop with his hands hanging off the railing, cigarette in his mouth, looking at the nightly lit cityscape below him. The wind makes a mess out of his hair, but he revels in it, the serenity and refreshing nature of it, the way the ash follows the wind out of his control. His hands are slightly aching from the cold winter air but he doesn’t mind it one bit, even if the cold always made him slightly sleepy, he now feels more awake than ever.
It’s been a year since he first set foot on that small rooftop, the layout of the apartment something that still amuses him to this day. He thinks of all the things this rooftop had to be a witness of, of all the ways his heart broke here, of all the times he could have been kinder, and he wants it to swallow him whole. He thinks of the rooftop, the ashtray he's borrowing, and the new shiny ring on his best friend's finger and he wants to scream. It isn't about him, nothing truly ever is, but he feels, in a roundabout way, petty. Felix believes in an indulging type of way that his own misery being used as a wake-up call earns him a few stray petty thoughts every once in a while. He loves his friends, is beyond happy for them, the expensive champagne bottle he brought all the way from Australia a giveaway of that, and he's ultimately and truly glad at least something good came out of that misery. He allows the bitterness to exist now, so he can hopefully leave it to banish alongside the ash flying away from him.
Either way, he has more pressing concerns as of now, the clock ticking away getting closer to his ultimate demise. Tonight he is going to see Chan for the first time after almost four months, and he quietly mourns the fact that the engagement party of their closest friends is the only reason any of this is even happening. Felix is terrified his voice is going to give out on him, or worse that his mocking heart he wears so readily in his sleeve is going to give him away from the beginning. Felix thinks of his own hands, the space between those he wants most, even now, even after so long, and his heart weeps, aches in a way he hasn't been allowing himself to fully feel, happening only now with the hope that if he feels all of this now, the stones in his heart won't weight him down as he faces him. Tonight isn't about him, nor them, Felix promised that, promised maturity and a level of healing he hopes someday will stop being faux.
The wind picks up, the ashes of his slowly dimming cigarette flowing away with it, and Felix feels small.
The door to his left opens. Felix turns to it and is met with brown eyes, curly hair, and full lips, and he can already feel his insides trying to escape through the badly sewed scar tissue.
Chan stands there for a second too long, and Felix can almost physically feel the way his gaze travels all across his face and beyond. He suppresses a shiver and hopes against hope his breathing will regulate itself soon.
“Oh, hey,” Chan says, letting the door fall shut behind him, “You’re here early,” he half smiles, awkward.
“Uhm, yeah,” Felix blinks, and he wonders if he came now to be able to sneak off early, to be able to get away from him. “I'm staying here ‘till I can find a new apartment.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Chan frowns lightly, head slightly turning toward the apartment behind him. "That makes sense."
“Yeah…” Felix trails off, unsure where to go from here.
“Do you mind if I…?” He waves around the rooftop with the hand holding a pack of cigarettes, and Felix idly recognizes the brand as the one he used to buy way back then.
“Oh no, no…” he gestures to the empty space right beside him, an inconspicuous invitation, selfish, and Chan takes it. He walks up to his side while lighting up a menthol, one hand shielding the flame against the wind, and Felix takes a drag of his own menthol to wash away whatever expression etched itself into his face.
The silence is loud. They never had any trouble speaking to each other, even if the things they were saying were damaging to the other’s heart, their silences never lasted long.
“You changed brands,” He can’t stop his mouth from spitting out, desperate to cling to any sort of familiarity. Desperate to have anything. He points to the matching packs in the railing separated by an ashtray made out of love and he fights against the prickling of his eyes. A lot can change in half a year.
“Oh, uhm, yeah,” Chan says on a exhale of smoke, looking suddenly shy. “You always said these were better, so, I tried them, and then yeah,” he trails off.
"Oh," Felix chokes out after making a little sound in the back of his throat, sounding wounded even to his own ears.
The silence doesn’t last long again, and Felix’s heart is too weak to hope, but it does so anyway.
"You dyed your hair," Chan is the second to notice, and Felix subconsciously passes his fingers through the hidden blond strands at his sides. It had been a pain in the ass getting them even, his sister having to intervene halfway through it, but he always wanted to try the dual-tone look and it was something to do to remain occupied, so it worked out. Hyunjin had said it suited him. He wonders if Chan thinks so as well.
"Yeah, not much else to do," he lets slip and he bites his own tongue.
Chan goes quiet, and Felix curses his compulsory honesty. They stew in silence for a while, and Felix hopes Chan doesn’t comment on the fact that his cigarette is on the gross tail end of it Felix always hated so much.
"So, how was Sydney?” It's a simple question, meant to shepherd them into safe territory but to acknowledge his leave so casually feels like a serrated knife straight to his heart, and Felix knows he's being too emotional about the whole thing but he could never help himself when it came to Chan. He schools whatever expression he can feel his face morphing into and he busies himself by looking at the cars passing in the streets below them.
It was great, he should say. A very healing time , Felix stares at a bike passing by until he can’t see it anymore. Catching up with my family was wonderful, he breathes out slowly.
“Lonely," Admitting it is like taking a deep dive into cold water, "How was New York?" he asks, selfishly hoping. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Chan look away from him.
"Miserable.” he sounds tired, he notes, and, not for the first time, his heart dies a little on that rooftop. Chan takes a drag, exhales the smoke and his next words in the same breath, “but it got better, towards the end, it got better. And now…” he trails off, and even Felix's teeth ache.
“Here we are,” he finishes for him, the bitter truth in his tongue leaving a terrible aftertaste in the back of his itchy throat.
The silence that follows feels like drowning. He gasps for air, grasping desperately at cold water as his intestines float away from him, gutted and raw and suffocating.
“I missed you.” he isn’t sure why he says it, but it leaves him breathless, like he finally broke through the surface and he can finally see land. A last dying grace, he believes.
Chan turns to him, shocked. A million emotions go through his face, half Felix can’t fully identify and he curses his selfishness for the hundredth time that night.
“Missed your heart being broken?” Chan says eventually, bitterness clinging to each word, and he deserves to get his own cruel words thrown back at him, he does, but he can’t help the way his blood goes ice cold. He forces his limbs to listen to him and he turns his body toward Chan.
“Yes,” Felix says, his eyes intently trained on his, trying to make him understand the weight of this confession. “Yes, I did." Because it meant I saw you, saw your face, talked to you, almost slips out. It meant I had you, in some fucked up way, he bites down his tongue to keep from spilling more blood-red truth. Chan stares at him for a long quiet while and Felix does his best to not shy away from him, not to hide his bleeding soul from his searching eyes.
"I missed you too," Chan admits quietly, and Felix’s heart sings and aches in the same beat.
They look at each other, and the enormity between them almost makes him feel claustrophobic. There is a lump the size of the universe stuck on his throat putting pressure behind his eyes and Felix thinks he would like the world to stop spinning for a while. He wants to stop feeling this way, stop the way his treacherous heart beats and bleeds all for a man that can’t seem to love him in a way that doesn’t hurt. And the fact that he does the same, the fact that he made him as miserable as to look the way he looks now, tired and worn, eyebags spelling out the distance between them, it kills him. He wishes he could be anyone but himself, for he knows that he will never stop being a selfish creature, not in this body of his that loves so readily, so fervently, so greedily. He knows too, came to the conclusion on the beach from his childhood, one that he unknowingly had shared with him, that he will love Chan until his last breath. And therein comes to play the way Chan looks at him, even now, and he wonders idly and mournful, when did their love become so tainted. He begs it isn't too late yet.
"You have ash…" Chan gestures to his own cheek, then moves his hand toward Felix, slowly, like he is a feral kitten he's trying to pet, and they both do him the kindness of not pointing out the way his hand trembles as it closes the distance.
Chan touches Felix for the first time in months and he goes with it, heavily. His whole face weighing down on his calloused hand, longing, lamenting the time apart. He goes with it and he can't help but leave a kiss or two there, right on the palm of Chan's hand, his wrist; the bracelet he got for him still fastened there, even during and after everything. He kisses him again, small and fugitive, like he's taking anything he can get his hands on, and he is. Or he thinks so, until Chan sags, breathing heavily, right in front of him and digs his fingers into the side of his face almost painfully. He loves it. He loves him. He wants to tell him so, but today isn’t about him, he promised, so he just does what he does best, and pleads.
“Please, just– please,” he doesn't know what he is asking for, the hand on his face making him almost delirious with want, with overflowing, overwhelming yearning.
"Anything," Chan whispers into the night, "Anything at all, just–" his voice weavers, and he stumbles closer to Felix, pressing their foreheads together almost roughly, "Just don't leave again, ok?" It's so small and vulnerable, heavy with the past few months, that Felix's eyes sting.
"I'm here," he promises fiercely into the warm air trapped between them and he wants to kiss him to prove it to him, but today isn't about him. "I am here." He goes a little desperate with it, trying to put weight into his words, to prove it to him, that he is here, for him, by him, until the day he won't have him anymore.
Chan nods almost frantically, the friction of their hair against their pressed foreheads almost burning, but Felix doesn't feel anything but him, him, him. Chan closes the gap between them and presses a kiss to his cheek, his cheekbone, his nose, the corner of his mouth, and stays there, eyes shut, and Felix dies and dies and dies on that little rooftop.
"Let's start again, from the zero," their lips brush against each other as Chan speaks, and Felix bleeds and bleeds and bleeds. He blinks, today isn't about him.
"Yes, ok, I'd like that," he says, feverishly, and he swallows a plea when Chan moves away from him. Luckily the hand on his cheek is still there, almost fused with his right side, and Felix subconsciously leans into it at the loss. Chan closes his eyes again at the display, eyebrows knitted together almost in pain and he takes a deep steading breath before opening them back up and taking a step back from him, hand dropping from his face to his shoulder. Felix whines quietly but stays still, smoothing his own face, and the pinched expression returns once again before leaving just as quickly. Chan's eyes travel all around his face and Felix for the first time lets him see him, all of him. Chan shudders, breathing out slowly, then steels himself.
"Hello there! I'm Chris, nice to meet you!" he says, an easy smile on his face heavy on his features as he echoes the first words he ever said to him. Felix wants to cry and laugh and scream and kiss him until they can't breathe.
"Oh, hi, I'm Felix," he says instead, eyes mirroring Chan's, impossibly fond, impossibly melancholic, and he smiles. "Nice to meet you too, Chris."