Chapter Text
A trickle of water echoed across the garden, the source being Minho carefully watering his plants with sleepy motions, eyes still blinking awake. His vegetables, luscious and abundant, were coming up nicely, despite how late they were into autumn. Gally watched him from the banister of their porch, legs dangling off as he hummed a tune to no one in particular.
He himself had constructed this house, shaped this garden, built this porch. The porch was a nice one in his standards, wrapping around one corner of the house so Gally could stand on it and admire Minho in the front garden, then take a few steps aside and face the sea and the endless beach sands. He enjoyed spectating over Minho the most. “Bored yet?” He heard a voice call out in his direction.
Lifting his chin, Gally gave Minho a lopsided smile, “No.”
“Good. I need your help.” Minho stood up, brushing the dirt off of his gardening gloves onto his weathered dungarees, and jabbed his thumb towards the corner of the garden, “The last of the fruit needs picking. We’ve been lucky with a late harvest, y’know.”
"Why d'you need my help?" Gally got onto his feet, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, "Are ya too short?"
"Shut up."
"I guess that's a yes, then."
Minho stuck his tongue out at him before turning away, grabbing an empty pail and walking over to the other end of the garden. Gally rolled his eyes at Minho's immaturity, but followed him nonetheless.
As his boots crunched across the dew coated grass, he fell into step behind Minho, hands in pockets, and admired the space around him. He had constructed their house and garden, but Minho had truly been the one who finished it up.
The bare walls inside were now covered with pictures and shelves, all complete with trinkets all of sorts. The empty rooms were furnished at last with rugs, and cushioned chairs, and other toot Minho deemed nice enough to keep.
And the garden. Oh, the garden.
When Minho had originally asked for a large space at the front of their house, Gally'd scoffed and changed the topic, but carved the area out anyways. Now, months later, it was alive with vibrant plants and thriving even as the world neared winter.
Gally could name a few of the things he saw, such as holly bushes, large beds overrun with different types of vegetables- which Frypan often made meals with, an abundance of colourful flowers, and a tree at the end, near the entry gate.
It wasn't a large tree, as it had been dug up and moved halfway across the island especially for Minho because it gave incredibly delicious apples. And.. Gally was an idiot. He couldn't help wanting to give, and give, and give to Minho, with no other intention than wanting to see the guy happy.
Maybe give him a smile. Maybe a kiss on the cheek. Truthfully, Minho could punch him in the face like he had in the Glade a couple of times, and he wouldn't bat an eyelid.
Realising Minho'd stopped walking, Gally copied, almost bumping into him. Minho turned his head, raising his eyebrows. Nodding, Gally stretched his arm out, grazing a branch with his fingers. Hung directly above Minho was a bright red apple, glistening in the growing sunlight. He plucked it and the moment was gone, the sun suddenly hidden behind a cloud.
Minho held his bucket up and Gally dropped the apple in, before turning his hand towards a second one. A minute passed like this, Gally squinting to find the best fruits to grab as Minho waited patiently by him. Eventually, Gally stretched from side to side as Minho was crouched, tying his shoelaces. "How come you aren't doing this? You're the one who wanted this tree, remember."
"I'm not tall enough, dumbass. And you love me, so.."
"Can't you just.. climb up? You're nimble enough."
"Nah, too much work."
Pausing, Gally dropped his arms, "..Seriously?"
"Mhm."
"You know what," Gally clicked his tongue, "here's an idea."
"Wha- woah!" Minho shrieked as he was picked up and thrown onto Gally's shoulders.
Gally grinned, "C'mon, you can reach those apples now."
"F-"
"Language!"
"I didn't even say it!"
Softening his hold on Minho's legs, Gally squinted up at him, amused. Minho ducked away from a branch, almost hitting his head, then decided to just go with it and pick a few more apples. Each time he heard the brittle snap of the stalk snapping, the rhythmically passed the fruit down to Gally, who loaded it into the pail. He was absorbed by the task quickly, and yelped when Gally stepped away without a word, shaking him back to earth.
Gally lifted the bucket, "It's full. Are we done?"
Laughing shamelessly as Gally tipped him off and held him up under his arm, Minho slapped at him, "Not quite."
Grumbling, Gally placed Minho back onto his feet, "What's next, then?"
"These." Minho stepped a few paces to the side and crouched down in front of some bushes, which were adorned with red, ripe fruits, "Can you grab my crate? It's by the tap."
Looking across the garden, Gally's eyes caught on the wooden box. He retreated, then returned with the crate in hand, "Jeez, how many are we picking?"
"All of 'em, if we can."
"Great."
Snickering as Gally knelt down, Minho accepted the box from him and started pulling berries off of the shrubbery, fingers flicking through the piny leaves. Gally copied his expample, grabbing a handful in no time.
They moved between bushes, Minho explaining what the fruit was each time. Rasberries, blackberries, gooseberries. They smelled delicious, and Gally couldn't wait to use these when he cooked later.
At bush four, however, Minho didn't say anything. Gally assumed these small, red spheres were the same as the other berries they had just picked, but they looked different. "What are these, then?"
"Hm? Oh," Minho held a couple up, "chuckleberries."
A squeezing sensation smothered Gally's heart, "Chuckle?" he tried to say with a smile.
Minho nodded, his face content, but he then saw Gally's pained expression and inhaled sharply. Chuck's name hovered between them; unsaid, but present. Softly, Minho dumped his collection into the crate at his feet, "Gally.."
Knees in the dirt, Gally's mind drifted off for a minute, a face he hadn't thought about resurfacing with an unpleasant clearness. "I never said.. I- you know I didn't mean it, right?"
"Gally," Minho repeated, quieter, "we all know what happened. You didn't mean to hit him, you were stung-"
"But… I still did! And I would've hit Thomas if not. I'm.." his voice broke and Minho swiftly wrapped his arms around him, "sorry, I'm sorry."
"Shh, hey, Gally- it's okay, you were just scared, I get that."
Gally sniffled into Minho's shoulder, tears clogging up his vision. Minho rocked him from side gently, whispering reassurances into his ear. Once Gally calmed down, Minho pulled away and cupped his face, "All okay now?"
Breaking out into a forced smile, Gally concealed another sob with a laugh, "There's.. on my hands, there's so much-"
"No, don't talk like that." Minho took ahold of Gally's shaking wrists and rubbed his fingers soothingly, "The only blood on your hands is that of the berries in this garden." He stood, tugging Gally up with him, "Now c'mon, I think we've harvested enough. Do you want to grab the apples?"
The kitchen was warm, the fireplace crackling behind them. Quietly, Gally stirred the berries in a pot as they were boiled down into a delicious smelling jam. Beside him, Minho peeled and sliced up the apples, the sound filling the room. Finishing, Minho went on to pick up his apple-filled saucepan, and moved around Gally to get to the stove beside him, kissing him on the cheek as he did so.
Gally's lips curved up almost unnoticeably, but Minho saw it all the same. It made his heart feel much less heavy.
Placing his saucepan on the stove, he leant his head on Gally's shoulder, "What're you gonna bake, then?"
"Fry's strudel with the apples," Gally tapped his hand-made wooden spoon on the side of the pot, satisfied with the consistency of it, "then jam with this. Oh, and I saw how you've ran out of marmalade, sorry. I'll go into the Haven centre and get some from Aris tomorrow."
"Alright." Minho rubbed Gally's back fondly, "Thanks for helping me earlier."
"It's okay."
Sat on their sofa, they curled up under a blanket, plates of apple strudel in their hands. Minho took the last bite of his one and sighed happily, mumbling, "That was so good."
"Mhm." Gally stabbed what he had left with his fork, pushing it around the plate a bit. Minho watched curiously, then smiled a bit and opened his mouth.
Gally raised an eyebrow at him, but lifted his fork and fed Minho from it anyways, laughing quietly.