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The look on Chan’s face told Minho everything he needed to know before he had even opened his mouth to speak and ask him what was going on and why he had been asked to show up at the studio without further notice. It was in his eyes, a sadness that curled around the usual stubbornness Minho had grown so fond of and it made Minho’s heart hurt.
It was more than obvious that the dilemma that had been haunting Chan ever since he got the job offer in LA had finally reached its conclusion.
Minho didn’t need to ask. Chan’s bloodshot eyes and his bottom lip, bitten raw from hours of worrying and crying, told him what he had feared would become a reality. It was all over his face, the regret, the excuses he was going to make, the words he had toiled over all night to soften the blow, but, in the end, it was that sadness that told Minho all he needed to know.
This was the end of them - the end of something perfect.
Minho just stood there, in front of Chan, accepting the wave of words Chan threw at him, barely listening as he explained what had happened, about the offer he had gotten, about how his life was about to change, skillfully dancing around what they both needed him to say. Minho knew where it was heading, even if Chan couldn’t bring himself to say the words unsweetened.
Minho had always known they had been doomed from the start, knew from the moment they started this thing up that he was playing with fire, that he was laying his heart out only for Chan to crush it.
After all, Chan would always love music more than he would ever love Minho.
It felt like his throat was tightening, making it difficult for him to breathe or talk, like Chan had tied a pretty ribbon around his neck and was tightening it ever so slightly with every single word that fell from his pretty lips. All Minho could do as Chan explained his thoughts was to stand and look at him while the owner of his heart broke it apart, piece by piece, shard by shard, leaving nothing but dust behind.
In a way, he was thankful that Chan had taken control because Minho wasn’t made for something like this. He wasn’t made for getting his heart broken. Minho wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say or how he was supposed to act. He wasn’t new to getting broken up with per se, but this was different than all of those before. They hadn’t been Chan. They didn’t matter in the same way Chan did.
They weren’t the center of his universe, the one he revolved around, the one he was living and breathing for, the one person who would matter more than himself until the day he died.
“I don’t know what else to do,” Chan said, tearful eyes searching for Minho’s, but he couldn’t stand looking at him right now, opting instead to keep his eyes on his sock-clad feet instead. It hurt too much and Minho’s head was a mess of heartbreak, anger, grief, and physical pain. “I just… It doesn’t feel right doing this.”
“It doesn’t,” Minho said, biting down on his bottom lip hard, fighting to keep the tears at bay. He didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t someone who cried, but in front of Chan and his impending heartbreak, what else could he do? He was still human regardless of how little he wanted to be in that moment. “It doesn’t feel right at all, Chan, and yet here we are,” Minho said, already knowing what was happening without Chan having to say it. “You’re breaking up with me.”
If Chan couldn’t say it, Minho would do it for him.
“I don’t want to,” Chan said, his voice breaking just like Minho’s very being was slowly falling apart. He wanted to laugh at himself for being like this, but there wasn’t anything remotely funny about any of this. “I really don’t want to.”
“But you’re still speaking,” Minho snapped, exhaling sharply and turning away so he didn’t have to look at Chan. He didn’t want to see his pretty features marred by the heartbreak he was forcefully bringing upon them because he had made a choice he didn’t want to include Minho in. “You’re still ruining us.”
They knew this would happen. It was bound to at this point. He feared it when Chan got that odd call in the middle of the night, had suspected when Chan acted restless and nervous, had known when Changbin hadn’t wanted to meet his eyes.
Chan’s dreams were finally coming true, but those dreams had never involved Minho.
Chan would forever be someone who would continue chasing his dream, someone whose music career was more important than anything else, even if it meant he would have to leave Minho behind in the dust. Because Chan believed Minho shouldn’t give up his dreams and aspirations because of someone else. He wanted Minho to be as selfish in his own chase for his future as Chan was because he wanted it to be fair. He didn’t care that Minho could get new dreams, new aspirations, and a new life somewhere else.
The only thing Minho had ever needed was Chan in his life, and the only dream Minho had was of a future with Chan. The rest could be fixed along the way.
Chan looked at him like he had hit him and Minho felt a malicious form of glee. If Chan intended to break up with him, he at least deserved to leave just as scarred as Minho would be once he walked back to their shared apartment, realizing that Chan’s things would have to go. That their shared bed was his alone now, that it was his cats against and not theirs.
There was no getting out of this unscratched.
Wordlessly Chan patted the spot on the leather couch beside him, silently inviting Minho to sit by his side and Minho glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Chan patted the spot again, silently urging him on and Minho hated himself for complying.
After all, in front of Chan, Minho would always be weak.
“You’re making a mistake,” Minho said as he stepped closer to Chan. He looked down at his boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend now, something conflicting stirring in his stomach, and with a sigh Minho sank into the couch. “I hope you know that.”
The leather of the couch was soft under his hand, the texture familiar in a way nothing would ever become to Minho again. He remembered the first time he had sat on the couch, waiting patiently for Jeongin to finish his recording session so he and Minho could go home together.
Minho had barely paid any attention to Chan before, nothing beyond noting that he was a handsome and kind man whom Jeongin adored. But that afternoon he had seen how Jeongin clung to him in between recordings, how Chan smiled and talked to Minho while Jeongin was getting ready inside the booth, how Chan had sat down beside him during a short break to talk about how wonderful it was to finally put a face to Minho’s name after having heard so much about him from Jeongin.
It had been a downward hill from then on, and Minho had fallen harder and easier than he ever had. Chan was easy to love. Too easy.
“I’m sorry, Minho, I really am. This isn’t fair, I know. It’s a shit move and I'm a shit boyfriend” Chan said, his eyes already red from the crying he had done before Minho entered the studio and Minho hated him for feeling bad when he was the one digging their grave. “I know both of us don’t want this, but… You know I love you, right?”
Minho bit his lip, staring at his hands in his lap, the skin on his knuckles red from the cold. It shouldn’t be cold. It was the middle of May and Minho should have been surrounded by the early blooming flowers, golden sunlight shining down at both him and Chan. It shouldn’t feel like the winter cold was biting into his skin, leaving him raw and exposed to the elements, chilled to his bones.
Of course, Minho knew Chan loved him. It wasn’t difficult to miss how Chan had always looked at Minho as if he was the center of his universe, the reason why the sun rose in the morning and the moon decorated the sky during the night. Chan had always treated him with care, always making sure not to overstep any boundaries, keeping a hand on Minho whenever he needed it, and stepping back when Minho needed his independence back.
Chan was perfect. Minho had never had a partner who was as perfect as Chan and he also knew he would never be able to find anyone just as wonderful as him.
But Minho would always be a paramour to Chan’s true love: Music.
“I know,” Minho said, the words stinging his throat because out of anyone in this world, Minho knew Chan better than anyone. And it wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about it before - before they got together, before they grew close, before they fell in love. Their relationship was a break in Chan’s chase for a music career. Minho had always been temporary. “Of course, I know,” he added, clearing his throat and wishing he could have been as cool and collected as he had been the last time he had been dumped.
If Minho didn’t know better, he would have wondered if Chan had done this before considering how good he was at breaking Minho’s heart, but this was his first time doing that because, to Chan, there hadn’t been anyone before Minho.
Minho had been Chan’s first relationship, the first one who had forced Chan to break his promise of not getting attached, growing from a friendship to a tentative romance, and, then, before Minho had even noticed what was happening, an all-consuming love. It was something that had shocked Minho the moment he realized he was truly in love, but the warmth he had felt once the fear receded had been the most precious to him.
Together they had shared a lot of firsts.
Chan’s first kiss had been a shy peck shared during a movie night that had quickly taken overhand because Minho hadn’t been able to keep his desire for more of Chan at bay. It hadn’t taken long before Chan’s first kiss had turned into his first time making out.
Minho’s first time moving in together with a partner had been Chan. He had packed his cats and his plants and had shown up on Chan’s doorstep when his lease had expired and Chan had welcomed him inside with open arms. He wondered now if he could keep living there once Chan was gone, or if he should find a shoebox apartment to move into. Something cheap, something that would allow him to save up money.
Chan’s first love had been Minho because he had never allowed anyone to come close enough for him to fall in love before Minho, and while he found it unbelievable at first, nothing was better than knowing that Minho had been the one teaching Chan how a relationship felt like and how wonderful being in love was.
That there had only ever been Minho and if Minho had gotten his way there would only ever be Minho.
When Chan had laid down in bed beside him and told him that he was experiencing an almost overwhelming emotion that left him feeling whole, Minho had smiled widely and told him it was love.
Chan had been Minho’s first time telling a partner that he loved them.
The words had fallen from his lips on a dreary Thursday when they had been walking arm in arm under an umbrella, the sound of the raindrops hitting the plastic keeping the rhythm of their steps. Perfect and special in how ordinary it was.
The first time Chan had accidentally worn Minho’s socks, the first time they went out to eat together, the first time they went to an amusement park, the first time they cleaned the apartment together, the first time they cooked dinner together, the first time Minho served Chan breakfast in bed - so many firsts and seconds and thirds, and now, none.
There would be no more of them. Just Chan and Minho, two planets going in different orbits.
“I’m so sorry,” Chan said, hiding his face in his hands, voice breaking with his sorrow and regret. Minho wanted to reach out and hold him, to pull him into his arms and keep him there, but he knew that wasn’t what Chan needed. What Chan needed from Minho now was for him not to make it more difficult than it was - for this to be clean and easy so Chan could go chase the stars without Minho holding him back.
Minho swallowed the lump in his throat.
It hurt so much that it felt like he was being torn apart, his soul unwillingly ripped from his body, removed from the only person he would ever truly love. He couldn’t imagine a life without Chan, a life where he wasn’t woken up when Chan stumbled into their bed in the middle of the night, a life where Chan wouldn’t buy Minho’s favorite chocolate without him asking, a life where there would be no shoes by the door for Minho to fall over, no chores to annoying him with, no Chan to heat his bed and make him smile.
But Minho had always been the strongest of them and he had to keep it that way.
“You don’t need to apologize, Chan,” Minho said, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the trembling exhale at bay. “Everything, even something perfect, has an ending and this is ours, that’s just how it is. Besides,” he said, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. “You’re going to see the world, Chan, you were born to do this. It wouldn’t feel right to hold you back. It’s for the best,” he added, echoing all the things Chan had told him back when they got together, when Chan warned Minho he was going to break his heart.
After all, leaving Minho behind had become part of Chan’s dreams.
Minho had known this talk would arrive at some point and with Chan finally having secured a record deal overseas it meant he would have to move in order to achieve his dream. He knew Chan would never be able to do long distance because he thought he would be holding Minho back regardless of how much Minho wanted to be held back.
If being held back meant being Chan’s forever, Minho was more than happy to tie himself to Chan for an eternity.
But it wasn’t meant to be.
At least not according to Chan, he wanted Minho to be free while he ran off to live his dream. It was difficult to love someone who was in love with the entire world, living, dreaming, and breathing to be on the stage, to be loved by millions, but that was Minho's reality and now he was suffering because of it.
“I just don’t want your life to revolve around me,” Chan whispered, curling his hands into tight fists in his lap so he couldn’t reach out to hold Minho’s like he wanted to. “I need you to live the life you intended for yourself, one where you aren’t tied down by me having to travel all over the world. I want you to keep dancing, to stay here and live the life you planned for yourself,” Chan pleaded, like an idiot forgetting that all Minho wanted was him.
I would follow you anywhere.
“I’ll wait for you,” Minho promised, his voice breaking. He could feel the tears finally break free, falling gracelessly from his eyes, staining his cheeks with the sorrow of his breaking heart. “Once you realize you’re an idiot and we can still be together I will be here,” Minho said, keeping his voice firm. He could follow Chan’s wishes and let him go as he promised years ago, but Chan was it for him. He didn’t want anyone else.
“I don’t want you to wait for me,” Chan said, clenching and unclenching his hands, his palms red from where his nails had dug into the skin. “It’s why I’m doing this, it’s why I’m…” Chan still couldn’t say it. “I don’t want you to wait for me.”
“I will,” Minho insisted, finally turning to look at Chan for the first time since having entered the studio and having caught sight of Chan’s bloodshot eyes. “You can’t change my mind. I’ll wait for you. I’m the right person for you, but it’s just the wrong time for us,” he added, hating how the words didn’t sound quite true.
Just the wrong time… It wasn’t, it was the perfect time for Chan and Minho to meet back when they did, but it was a sweet enough lie to soften the heartache. It was the perfect time for Minho to follow Chan across the ocean, for Minho to tear up his own roots and follow his heart. All he needed was money, otherwise, he would have been back home packing already, old promises to Chan be damned.
The cats had carriers for a reason.
“I’ll be fine,” Minho said, not knowing if he should believe the words or not, not knowing if he could believe them. He moved closer to Chan, his hands trembling with the need to reach out and draw his love closer to him. “Don’t worry about me,” Minho added and finally pulled Chan into his arms and held him to his chest, close to where he had carved a home for himself years ago. “Just, don’t regret this. I won’t be able to live if you do.” You promised to make my broken heart worth it, he wanted to say.
“How could I not regret this?” Chan whispered, hiding his face in the crook of Minho’s neck, his hands reaching out to grab a hold of Minho’s sweater and pulled him closer. A shaking exhale left his body and his shoulders trembled along with Minho's. “How can I not feel like we shouldn't have done this when we’re both heartbroken?”
Minho’s entire body hurt.
“You either keep me, Chan, or you don’t regret breaking up with me,” Minho said, his voice harsher than he intended. Chan flinched away from him and Minho’s heart wept for him, but he wasn’t giving up, wasn’t softening his words. Minho didn’t need to beg and he had promised to let Chan go when he asked. Chan should know Minho always kept his promises. “I can live with us not being together, but I need you to be confident in your belief that this is the right decision. That this is what you need and want. For me. For you. For what will become of us if you go through with this,” he added, voice breaking a little as his heart throbbed with the knowledge that there was no ‘them’ anymore.
Every word felt like a nail hammering his fate sealed.
This was it, Minho thought, his heart aching in a way it never had before. It felt like someone was trying to pull it out of his chest, ruthlessly and without care. I’m about to lose the best thing I’ve ever had.
“Can you do that for me?” Minho asked, voice choked from the tears he was trying so desperately to hold back. “Can you not regret this? Can you not regret the fact that what we had was perfect? That we were happy and whole and, fuck, that we loved each other. You’re the one who wants this, who made me promise that I would let you go so don't you dare regret what we had, don’t you dare regret breaking my heart to chase your own dreams. ”
Chan pulled back to look up at him, his eyes shimmering from tears that lingered in the corners of his eyes, like small diamonds waiting to be freed. Slowly, he nodded, his voice seemingly having left him without words to utter.
Perhaps it was for the best.
If he didn’t speak, Minho would be able to stay sane.
Minho looked at him, his beautiful Chan, the only man who had made Minho’s life make sense, who made Minho feel seen and understood, who made him feel perfect and happy and in love. Knowing he would regret it, Minho leaned in, stealing a brief kiss from him, nothing more than a brush of their lips together.
A last goodbye.
He heard Chan’s breath hitch and Minho exhaled slowly when Chan’s hands found purchase at the back of his head, drawing him back in again. Their lips met again, this time harder and more disparate, filled with the hunger for each other they had always shared. Chan pushed himself closer to Minho and dug his fingers into his hair, the strands longer than Minho would normally have allowed it to grow, but Chan had liked it.
Chan had told him several times how much he loved the longer hair, how the strands would tickle his face when Minho leaned down to kiss him when he was on top of him. Minho’s shoulders relaxed, and for a moment he could pretend he wasn’t falling apart, but then Chan tightened his hold on Minho’s hair and pulled at it almost painfully.
Minho gasped and Chan used the opportunity to deepen this kiss, licking into Minho’s mouth and stealing his breath away. He tasted salt, their heartbreak shared between them slipping down both their cheeks and Minho hated it, but he would never be able to hate how Chan made him feel.
Chan was everything, his hands touching Minho, keeping him grounded even though his head was in the clouds, making sure that even though he was breaking apart, not a single piece would be allowed to fall to the ground and shatter for good.
“Minho,” Chan breathed against his lips, an endless chant of his name, followed by a kiss more yearning than the one before. His lips were soft and familiar, the hold on Minho’s waist warming him up from just a single touch, and Minho… He didn’t know how he was going to live without this. Without Chan. Without his heart and soul.
“Minho,” Chan whispered, pulling Minho closer and closer as if he couldn’t get enough of him, as if he could press Minho into his ribcage and keep him there, making them one person so they would never have to be separated. “Minho, I lov-”
“No,” Minho said, blinking his eyes open and staring dazedly at Chan. He was looking back at Minho with wide eyes, his lips red and puffy from having given Minho a final taste of what real love was supposed to feel like.
Minho wanted this moment to last forever, even though he was dying slowly on the inside, but he wouldn’t be able to survive it. They were done, over, a past chapter of Chan’s life. He shouldn’t love Minho anymore. If he did, he wouldn’t leave.
“No,” Minho repeated, stronger this time as he leaned away from Chan, putting some of the distance he wanted between them. His lips felt raw and exposed when he reached up to touch them. Kissing Chan was dumb because now Minho wanted more. “You don’t. You don’t love me,” he said instead, voice breaking and he couldn’t hold his tears back anymore, his broken heart bleeding out of him painfully.
“Minho,” Chan pleaded, leaning in closer to kiss Minho again, and Minho, faced with his biggest weakness, allowed him to.
One last time. Just… One last time.