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He hated it.
At least, that’s what he said.
Every time the dishes weren’t done, or their bed wasn’t made up, or that damn seagull Minho was adamant they kept knocked something over-
It ticked him off like nothing else. But the worst part was that he knew he loved it all the same.
What would his Glade-self say to all this? Gally wasn’t sure. He’d estranged himself from that person over ten years ago. Whoever that was, he had erased them completely.
Well maybe not fully. He still shoved Minho around sometimes, he still got into ridiculous arguments with him about both everything and nothing at the same time, but that was just a part of him.
Minho didn’t mind. Gally was sure he found it amusing more than anything. And he was grateful for that.
What he was also grateful for was his house. His home. He had built it himself in just a few months, taking extra care in crafting it to Minho’s exact wishes.
Minho wanted a porch? Gally built a porch.
Minho wanted a window facing the sea? Gally (grudgingly) made a window facing the sea.
Minho wanted a large front garden? Gally carved out the largest garden in the Safe Haven.
Minho wanted a house by the sea?
They were situated on a small grassy hill, the beach sands climbing all the way up onto their porch.
He was in love, he couldn’t help it. That didn’t mean he never found Minho a pain in the arse, but he had fallen into loving that about him as well. He genuinely couldn’t see himself apart from the guy.
So married life wasn’t all bad.
One evening as they were sat around their kitchen table, a candle flickering between them, Gally looked up and kept his gaze fixed on Minho fondly. To think he once hated that face felt mad.
Minho, chewing on some pasta, caught him staring, “What?
“Nothing.”
“I feel like you’re gonna interrogate me.” Minho, grumbled, looking back at his food.
Gally raised an eyebrow at him, “What’s got you in a mood, huh?”
“Tired.”
With a scoff, Gally leant back in his chair, “Then stop waking up at five in the morning.”
“But Bill needs his breakfast-“
“The seagull can wait for his breakfast. You spoil him enough.”
“I also have to do my daily run!”
“Then do it later!”
Minho took another mouthful of food and glared at Gally. Gally only smiled back at him.
They returned to eating in silence, the crackle of a radio filling the quiet. Gally enjoyed nights like this, when their biggest problems were things like Is the stove the right temperature? and When are you giving back my jumper?
Gally only realised he had zoned out when Minho cleared his throat, “Stare at me again and I’m divorcing you.”
“Jeez,” Gally blinked, slipping his fork into his empty bowl, “sorry.”
Minho started at him, unimpressed, “I’m not kidding.”
Faking a frown, Gally got up, picking up Minho’s cleared bowl as well as his own, “Oh no, please don’t.”
With a grunt, Minho stood up and stretched his arms, “I’m going to bed.”
“Okay, old man.” Gally watched him wander out of the room, a smile spreading across his face again. He put the bowls in the sink and turned the tap on, watching as warm water trailed out of it with a hiss.
He was sixteen, freshly traumatised from the fall of the last city and the loss of a friend. Minho was worse off, barely moving, not talking.
That first night in the haven, Gally pulled Minho down to the shower block and helped him get cleaned up. At one point, he turned on a tap and let the water run over Minho’s bloodstained hands.
That memory was an old one, and it still made his stomach flip. They’d both been in dark places many times, but seeing Minho so empty like that..
He was glad he healed.
Cracking his back, Gally finished up the dishes and cleaned his hands, heading to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, then stared at himself in the mirror for a minute.
His appearance wasn’t something he thought about often. With his job, he got dirty most of the time, so he never bothered to neaten up beforehand. Still, he looked a bit different.
A stray curl by his temple hung in the way and he brushed it to the side. His hair had gone curly after it regrew from the buzzcut, and he hadn’t had it trimmed recently, meaning his fringe sometimes blocked his vision. He was going to have to sort that out.
Glinting under the frazzled lightbulb above, his wiry glasses that he’d slipped onto his head to hold his hair back caught his attention and he pushed them back down onto his nose, letting his hair fall.
Stroking his chin, he felt the ever growing stubble prick at his skin and sighed. Minho shaved all the time, preferring smooth skin over a beard, but Gally found that he didn’t have the time usually.
Minho complained about this, grumbling whenever his face got scratched during a kiss. Smiling to himself, Gally made his mind up to shave in the morning.
He slunk out of the bathroom, being careful about which floorboards to tread on, and ended up in their small living area. A boxy old television, which only worked when holding a dvd, stood proud by the wall, an orange settee planted by it.
Gally stretched his arms up, fingertips grazing the ceiling, and dropped down onto the settee. He reached over for the book that he’d started earlier, and flicked to his page.
Twenty minutes went by until Gally felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He lazily lolled his head back, locking eyes with Minho. The guys black hair was a mess, he looked more grumpy than earlier, and was holding a blanket tightly around himself.
“Yes?” Gally tilted his face to the side, eyes glancing over the small scar on Minho’s lip.
Minho’s gaze hardened, “Aren’t you coming to bed?”
“Yeah.” Gally forced his neck forwards, focusing back on his book, “Was just gonna finish this chapter..”
“No.” Minho scrunched his face up and moved around the settee, sliding onto it beside Gally.
Gally rolled his eyes, “Yes.”
Pulling the blanket further onto himself, Minho leant heavily onto Gally’s side. Gally lifted his arm up as Minho did so, letting his partner get comfortable. “You’re going soft.” He murmured, flicking the page in his book.
“Have been for a decade. Glad you noticed.” Minho’s body relaxed, eyes falling shut. Gally grinned, rubbing Minho’s arm in a repetitive motion.
They both eventually succumbed to sleep, curling in on each other. However, the problem with not being in their bed was that the space wasn’t massive, and Minho accidentally kicked Gally hard a few times as he slept.
Groaning, Gally shoved him, making him topple off of the surface. The thump of Minho hitting the floor jerked the taller boy awake and he sprung up, looking over the edge, “Shit, Min? Are you okay?”
An angry glare was all he got back. Gally shivered, only because Minho had pulled the warm blanket with him, and pushed himself onto his feet, extending a hand out to Minho, “Sorry.”
Minho didn’t take it, “That hurt.”
“I didn’t mean it!”
“I don’t think my legs work anymore.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Gally took a deep breath and crouched down, grabbing Minho, still eloped in the blanket, and wrapping him in his arms. “You ran the maze for three years, but one little tumble is what’s finishing you off?”
“Exactly that.” Minho yawned, shutting his eyes again.
Walking cautiously, Gally made it to their bedroom and promptly dropped Minho onto the bed. Minho hissed, momentarily frightened by the fall, “The hell, Gally?”
“Go to sleep.” Gally dropped his glasses onto the side table, then crawled onto the bed next to him and slipped underneath the duvet. Minho followed after a delayed moment of sulking, dragging the fluffy blanket with him.
Despite being not in the best mood, Gally snagged an arm over Minho and tugged him towards his chest. Minho elbowed him in jest but Gally caught his arm, forcing it away, “Don’t.”
“I’m too hot, let go.”
“Then loose the blanket?” Gally tugged at the fluffy fabric wrapped all around Minho.
“Don’t wanna.”
“Then suffer.”
Too tired to argue, Minho growled quietly and let sleep take him.
The sun snuck into the room through the crack in the door. Gally stirred, feeling around on the bed for Minho. When he found that he was alone, he frowned and hummed in annoyance.
Footsteps made themselves present to his right and he felt a hand brush through his hair. Minho’s lips met his forehead, “Morning sleepyhead.”
Gally pulled the duvet tighter around him, still not opening his eyes. Minho combed his hair again gently, “I made breakfast.”
Cracking his eyes open only slightly now, Gally looked up at Minho. Minho smiled, “C’mon.” He cupped Gally’s jaw and kissed him softly on the lips. “Tch, when are you shedding that beard?”
A quiet snicker left Gally’s throat and he dug his fingers into the back of Minho’s hair, “I was gonna, but doesn’t it look good?”
“It doesn’t feel good.” Minho pouted as Gally pulled him back.
“Fine, fine,” Gally chuckled, “I’ll get rid of it after breakfast.”