Chapter Text
No one wants to die.
People can spend their whole life thinking they’d be better off dead, but once the time comes, they’re scared. Everyone is. It's a natural human response.
But that response came too late for Minho.
He’d never really feared death. Of course, there was that grating voice in the back of his head, telling him to be scared, telling him he would regret it, but he drowned it out with the rest of his thoughts. The perfect distraction.
The pill bottle in his cabinet luring him in like a siren’s call every time he went to take his medicine, the stack of notes shoved in the back of his top dresser drawer that were addressed to nobody, because he didn’t have anyone. The passing cars on the busy street he walked along every day, the bridge overlooking his favorite river.
It all called to him, and he answered.
October 25th, 1992.
Minho’s birthday.
It used to be a happy day for him, filled with laughter and smiles, cake and presents, joy and sunshine.
But now, he spent it alone, sitting at the small dining table in his apartment, drinking his sorrows away. The alcohol burned his throat as he swallowed, and he winced when he felt it. He liked the burn sometimes, it distracted him. The perfect distraction.
He stopped paying attention to how much he drank, and suddenly one bottle became two, and became two and a half, and Minho was stumbling over to his medicine cabinet, holding onto his counter so he didn’t fall flat on his ass.
He stared at the pill bottle. They were supposed to be antidepressants, but it only made Minho feel worse.
He pulled the bottle out with shaky hands, struggling to untwist the cap.
He doesn’t know how many he took. The bottle was empty when his vision started to blur, and then everything went black.
He wasn’t scared when he died. Why would he be scared of something he’s been wanting for so long?
It was silly to him, to fear something he had been craving so strongly, but he did. He was scared. Terrified, even.
He didn’t know if he was dreaming, or if it was the afterlife. It was dark, cold, he couldn’t see anything but he knew his eyes were open. Suddenly, there was a large screen in front of him, replaying his happiest memories.
His fifth birthday, when he got his first bike.
His first day of middle school, posing with his best friend. At the time.
His twelfth birthday, when his mother had gotten him his first cat, after saying no for so long.
He missed it. All of it. He wanted to go back in time, to relive those moments over, and over, and over again. He wouldn’t get tired of it, he knows that for a fact. His biggest regret was taking all of that for granted, selfishly thinking his happiness would last forever.
It didn’t. He was stupid to think that.
His eyes watered as he watched the memories replay, seeing the faces of all of his loved ones he had lost.
The screen shut off, and the room was dark again. He was alone, with only the videos and pictures of his past in his head, plaguing him. He sat down, hugging his knees to his chest and hiding his face in between them.
“You want to go back, don’t you?”
He jumped at the sudden voice, looking around him but seeing no one. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but when he opened them, his head was laying in the lap of a woman. She stroked his head, running her fingers through his hair.
He tried to turn and look at her face, but she wouldn’t let him.
She stayed silent, waiting for him to answer.
“Yes, but…” He sighed, closing his eyes again. Her movements were slow, and comforting. It reminded him of his mother. He felt like a child again.
“I have nothing left, nothing waiting for me at home.”
“Then find someone to wait for you. If you do, then you can stay.”
The material of her dress was cold against his cheek. He rubbed against her without realizing it, relishing in the coolness of the silk.
“It’s easier said than done.”
She smiled down at him softly, but he couldn’t see it, “I can give you a second chance. Find your soulmate, fall in love. Live.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, “What if I don’t?” She went still for a few seconds, “Then you’re forced to stay here, for the rest of eternity.”
He gulped, but she continued, “I can grant you a second chance, but you’ll only have three months.”
“How do I fall in love within three months?” He huffed a laugh at the absurdity.
“That’s for you to figure out.” She put her hand on his cheek, pushing his head to look at her. He didn’t fight.
Her hair was slicked back into a bun, secured with a hairpin. Her skin was pale, white. Her cheeks were pink and her lips were red. The color of her hanbok blended with her lips well.
“Do you accept?”
Minho thought about it. He could accept, and be forced to find a soulmate. But where would he even look? Would anyone even want to talk to him? He could decline, and be stuck in whatever this place was forever. Isolated, alone. In his opinion, that was scarier than anything.
The soulmate thing was worth a shot, right? Even if he fails, at least he knows he tried.
“I do.”
🏵
April 12th, 2025
Minho watched the ducks waddle along the pond in the middle of the park he was sitting at. Some of them dipped their heads underwater, others just kind of floated in the water.
It was a nice day out, Bright, sunny. Families walked around, enjoying ice cream and going on picnics. He missed his family.
He felt someone sit next to him and he looked over. The guy next to him was cute. Fluffy brown hair, chubby cheeks, glasses that sat on his nose like they were made for it, like a puzzle piece. He had a graphic t-shirt on, some random design that Minho couldn’t make out. It was paired with a white, long-sleeved undershirt and a pair of jorts, reaching just past his knees.
Minho stared shamelessly. It’s not like the guy next to him was able to see him.
He couldn’t recognize the thing in his hands. It was rectangular, and he had something plugged into it. He was tapping and scrolling on it. Minho was intrigued.
Feeling his staring, the guy looked over and smiled at him, just to be nice, and turned back to his phone. Minho assumed he was smiling at someone behind him, but he stopped staring and turned back to the ducks.
Minho wished he was a duck who lived in a pond in the middle of a park. They don’t have anything to be worried about. Minho thinks he would like a life like that. Calm, and worry-less. But that wouldn’t happen.
Minho didn’t know what year he was in, but he knew it wasn’t the nineties anymore. He remembered his “past life”, the conversation with the woman who stroked his hair just like his mother used to. He remembers how sad his life was before, and he hated it.
He liked wherever he was. It was nicer than what his life was like before.
He wasn’t a ghost, but he wasn’t visible. He was a solid being, he could feel pain and emotion just like everyone else, but he was never tired, or hungry. He could cry and sweat, and use all five senses, but if he talked, nobody would hear him.
It was lonely, but at some point, Minho had gotten used to the loneliness. It was better to be alone by yourself than be alone with people bothering you every second, he thought, asking questions that he never cared about.
He was never tired, but he still slept. Small, quick naps on the bench at the park. He never moved from the bench, he just sat, watching the ducks, watching the people go by, each one busy with their own lives.
The thought of everyone going through something different at the exact same time fascinated him. Someone could’ve graduated while he was busy sitting at home, drinking his sorrows away. Someone got promoted, or just bought their first car, or became a parent for the first time. There were people out there like Minho, drinking at the same time as him. He liked to imagine that they were drinking together, so it didn’t feel quite as lonely as it sounded.
He didn’t have anything to do besides sit. He didn’t have a job, or a pet to take care of. He didn’t even have a home.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in tints of orange and pink. He liked the view from the old, wooden bench he sat on. The pond full of ducks in front of him, and a clearing of trees just big enough that he could watch the sunset.
It was nice, just watching the sunset. He felt more at peace here, though still burdened by the overwhelming thought of staying dead forever.
He had searched, and searched, but found nothing. When he begged for help, the strange woman came to him in a dream.
“You’ll know when you’ve met them.”
That was all she said before Minho woke up. He wishes he knew what she meant. Nobody could see him. Unless his soulmate was another dead person, roaming the city just like him, then he was doomed.
The park was empty now. It was just him and the ducks, and the occasional squirrel. Sometimes a rabbit would pass by, and Minho would watch as a squirrel sniffed the rabbit. They coexisted peacefully, but they were still different. They got along well, eating next to each other and sniffing each other like they had been friends for years, but their differences still separated them.
Maybe there was something poetic there. Minho wouldn’t know.
At night, Minho went to sleep. He laid on his side, on the same bench he was sitting on, and closed his eyes.
One time, he had his arm under his head with his hand hanging off the end of the bench, and a dog walked right up to him and sniffed his fingers. The dog knew he was there, smiling at him and asking for pets, nudging his fingers, but the owner didn’t know a thing. She just grabbed the dog and walked away.
Maybe that was when Minho realized he was destined to be alone forever. Living in this state that seemed to be somewhere between life and death.
The mornings were nicer, in his opinion. The sun rising along with the city. Shops opening, people rushing to work, cars honking and beeping. The ducks were the same. Some went to sleep while others swam and wandered in search of food, just like people.
Everyone's different but they all have the same goal. Just survive. Work, sleep, eat.
Minho wishes he could’ve shared that goal.
April 13th, 2025
Minho watched the ducks like usual. He considered going to the library and getting a book about ducks, slipping in and out really quick on account of not being visible, but he would rather just watch. Reading was never his strong suit.
Someone sat next to him. It was the same guy from yesterday, except today he had on a long-sleeved flannel shirt, unbuttoned, with a white undershirt, and a pair of worn, baggy jeans. His curls were more prominent, and his cheeks were a bit pinker. Maybe he ran here.
Minho stared again. The curls suit him. It made his cheeks stand out more. Minho liked that.
The man glanced at him and shrank, looking a little flustered. Minho smiled at the way the color of his cheeks darkened but looked away, looking back at the ducks.
One of them had laid eggs last month, and Minho was lucky enough to see them hatch. The babies waddled behind their mother, following her in a line as she walked around the park, looking for food and nesting materials. It made Minho miss his mother.
No matter the species, everyone needs their mother. Everyone craves for the soft touch, the home-made meals, the soft hums and lullabies.
Minho missed his mom.
Was it silly to cry over a few ducks? Yes, probably. But everything could be seen as silly at the right angle, and Minho missed his mom, so he let himself cry.
It wasn’t loud, but he sniffled a little bit. Tears sliding down his cheek, the rims of his eyes red. The guy next to him looked over and took an earbud out, “Hey,” Minho looked over at him, “Are you okay?”
Minho looked behind him but there was no one there, “Me?”
The man nodded. Minho wiped his tears quickly, “Uh, yeah,” He sniffed, “Sorry.” They looked at each other, and Minho noticed how pretty the stranger really was.
Minho furrowed his eyebrows after a few seconds, “You can see me?” The man nodded in confusion, “Yeah?”
Minho fought back a smile. He didn’t want to get his hopes up about the whole soulmates thing, but it might’ve been too late. The only person to see him since he was brought back here, was a random stranger on a park bench.
It sounded a bit silly, but Minho stopped caring about silly a while ago.
“Good.” Minho nodded and turned his attention back to the ducks, still following behind their mother, “Sorry.” Minho whispered, his hands folded in his lap, his leg crossed over the other. “You’re good, man.” The stranger turned back to his device.
They sat. Together, in silence, they just sat there. Minho kind of liked it. He wasn’t usually so comfortable around someone, especially not so quickly, but the stranger next to him didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt like a friend. Minho couldn’t say soulmate, not just yet, it was far too early, but he wanted to.
April 20th, 2025
The stranger kept coming to the park every morning, and staying until the afternoon. They held small talk a few times, but they never had an actual conversation, and Minho had started to lose hope in their relationship going anywhere.
It was their routine. Minho would always be the first one there, because he never left, and the stranger would come early in the morning, and they just sit. Enjoying each other's company.
He watched the stranger approach and smiled as he sat down, but instead of reading or scrolling, he turned to Minho, “How come you’re always here before me?”
Minho blinked, not expecting the question, “Well, I…” Minho couldn’t tell him the truth, he would sound crazy, “I like coming here at sunrise. It’s peaceful.” The stranger nodded, thinking about what Minho said, “You know, I kinda get that.” He looked forward, watching the ducks live their lives, but he turned to Minho again, “I’m Jisung, by the way.”
He held his hand out and Minho took it. His hands were cold, and he watched Jisung’s eyebrows twitch at the feeling of Minho’s hand coming into contact with his, “Minho.”
He introduced himself with a small smile. He liked Jisung, Jisung was cool.
Jisung smiled a big, gummy smile, in the shape of a heart, showing off all of his teeth.
Minho liked Jisung. Jisung was pretty.
April 30th, 2025
The baby ducks had grown but still followed their mother around. Minho still missed his mother.
A few days ago, one of the baby ducklings had gotten stuck in a bush while following its mother, and Minho got up from the bench for the first time in months, and helped the duckling. He whispered to it as it struggled and he smiled at it as it waddled back to its mother, fast, flapping its tiny, little wings.
He stayed crouched for a few seconds, watching the duckling interact with its mother, before standing and walking back to the bench.
“Was it okay?” Jisung asked, pushing his glasses up. Minho nodded with a smile, sitting next to Jisung, “Yes. It just got tangled in a few branches, but it didn’t get scratched or anything.”
They both watched the ducks. Minho liked ducks. They were usually seen as rude, or aggressive, but really, they were just scared prey protecting their loved ones. Minho could relate to that, in a way.
Jisung dug around for something in the worn messenger bag he brought with him, and pulled out a plastic baggie with two brownies in it, holding it up, “Hey, Minho.” Minho looked at Jisung, glancing at the brownies, “My friend accidentally baked too many of his brownies. Do you want one?”
He wanted to decline. He wasn’t hungry. He never was. But Jisung pulled a brownie out for himself and held it in his mouth as he pulled the other out for Minho, using the bag as a napkin to hold it on. He looked at Minho with those big, wet eyes, and Minho couldn’t decline. He took the brownie from Jisung and took a bite. His eyes widened and he looked over at Jisung who was smiling at him, chewing his own brownie.
“Good, right?” Jisung asked once he swallowed.
Minho nodded and took another bite. “My friend is really good at baking. He always makes stuff to bring to his job and stuff, but occasionally he makes too much, which means that I get some.”
Minho watched Jisung as he talked. Jisung was very expressive.
“Sometimes I feel like he makes more on purpose, just so I’ll eat it.” Jisung stared at the concrete under his feet, the tip of his shoe hitting a small rock as he swung it back and forth, “What do you mean?” Minho questioned, but he noticed the way Jisung got smaller, quieter when he asked.
“Oh, it’s,” Jisung pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand, still holding his brownie, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He smiled at Minho and finished his brownie, wiping his hand off on his jeans.
They both stayed quiet as Minho finished his brownie. It was good. Minho wasn’t lying. He hasn’t enjoyed something sweet like this since he was a kid.
“Hey,” Jisung spoke up, looking over at Minho, “My friend is having a little get-together, with our whole friend group, sometime next week. Would you wanna go?”
Minho swallowed, even though he had finished his food, “I’ll be there, if it’s a ‘meeting new people’ thing, and I’m sure that doesn’t have much credit, but I think we’re friends. I hope.” Jisung whispered the last part but continued talking, “You don’t have to, I know this might be, like, too sudden, probably, sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Minho was quiet. He didn’t want to go, he would only embarrass Jisung. He doesn’t know about Minho’s…situation. Jisung would look insane if he tried to introduce Minho to his entire friend group, and Minho couldn’t do that to him.
But…Jisung seemed so excited about it. He called Minho his friend. Minho hasn’t heard that in a long time. So, for Jisung and Jisung only, “I’ll go.”
Jisung smiled, big and heart-shaped, “Really?” Minho nodded. Jisung pushed his glasses up, still smiling, “This is great. I should tell Chan to make room.”
Jisung checked his watch, “Oh, perfect timing.” It was time for Jisung to go. He stood and grabbed his bag, “Bye, Minho! I’ll be back tomorrow.” He waved and walked away, and Minho waved back. Minho knows he’ll be here tomorrow. Jisung always is.
Minho watched him walk away with a little pep in his step.
Minho should feel bad for agreeing to go, he does, a little, but Jisung was happy, and that’s really all Minho wanted.
May 5th, 2025
The day of the get-together.
Jisung and Minho met at the park like always, talking about everything and nothing. Watching the ducks, and the rabbits, and the squirrels go by, living their own life, just like everything else in the world.
Minho thinks he and Jisung are like a rabbit and a squirrel. Existing together, playing together, eating together. But separated by the differences that makes it impossible for them to have a life together.
Minho wasn’t entirely hopeless. He had a shot with Jisung, if he played it right. But he hasn’t played anything right since he was a kid, helping his friend through a level in Super Mario.
When it was time for Jisung to go, he stood and grabbed his things like usual, but instead of leaving, he held his hand out for Minho to take. Minho looked at his hand, and then him, and then his hand one more time before taking it, and standing from the old, wooden bench.
Jisung didn’t let go of Minho’s hand, and Minho didn’t let go of him either.
For the first time in months, Minho left the park.
Jisung knocked on the front door to a nice house. Bright, green bushes out front with pretty flowers planted in front of them. The bottom half of the walls were brick, and the top half was vinyl. The front door was red, but it wasn’t a bright red. It matched some of the bricks. The porch was concrete, but it had a step and a banister made out of vinyl, with hanging plants above it.
It was a very pretty house. Minho would’ve liked to live somewhere like this.
The door opened, and Minho was greeted with bright, blonde hair and a big smile. Except, the man at the door wasn’t greeting Minho. He was greeting Jisung. He couldn’t see Minho.
“Jisung, you made it!” He gave Jisung a tight hug, “Come in! Chan’s almost done grilling.”
His voice was deep, but comforting. He was in a soft-colored sweater with loose, light-wash jeans.
“Wait,” Jisung stopped Felix, “Remember the guy I told you about? At the park?” Felix nodded and followed Jisung’s hand as he held it in front of Minho like he was presenting him, “This is him!” Jisung said excitedly.
Felix was confused, and looked around, “Where is he?”
Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, “He’s right here, don’t you see him?” His hand fell.
Minho felt guilty, for some reason. He wanted to tell Jisung, but it was just too early.
Instead of pushing, Felix just smiled, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He smiled and nodded vaguely in Minho’s direction, on account of having no idea where he was. Or, if he was even real.
Minho didn’t see his nod, though. He was too busy staring at Jisung. He didn’t like to pay attention to people who couldn’t see him, it just made him feel lonelier.
Felix stepped aside to let Jisung, and Minho, in before closing the door behind them. “Everyone’s in the living room. Most of them, anyway.”
Jisung followed Felix, and Minho followed Jisung.
Jisung’s friend group was nothing like what Minho had expected. The few that were in the living room were sitting, but it was still chaos.
Two people were sitting on the couch, sitting on the edge of it, while two others were sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, a stack of Uno cards sitting in the middle of all of them. One of the guys on the floor was yelling about have to draw eight cards, and the one next to him thought it was the funniest thing in the world
“I used to be really good at that game.” Minho whispered, pointing to the card. He squeezed Jisung’s hand, still intertwined with his, to get his attention, and it did. Jisung looked at the intense game in front of them and smiled, “I’m not.” He looked at Minho, “Do you wanna play?”
But before he could answer, one of the guys on the couch spoke up, “Who are you talking to?”
Everyone else looked at Jisung, whose hand was still holding Minho’s. But they couldn’t see that. In their eyes, Jisung was losing it.
“My friend. The one I was telling you guys about.”
Apparently, Jisung told everyone about Minho. He would feel like a mini celebrity if they could actually see him.
“From the park?” One of the guys on the floor asked. He was skinny, with brown hair, and he looked at Jisung with a raised brow.
Jisung nodded, “Yeah.” He held his hand up again, like he was presenting Minho, again, but there was still nothing there.
“Jisung, there’s nothing there.” The first guy on the couch said. He had long black hair, and he was wearing a knitted cardigan.
“What do you mean?”
They all looked at Jisung like he was insane.
“I mean, you’re holding hands with air right now.”
“No, I’m not.” Jisung was getting upset, Minho could tell. And now, he was starting to regret agreeing to come with him. It was only making Jisung feel worse. “Why are you all acting like you can’t see him, he’s right here!” Jisung pat Minho’s shoulder a couple times to try and prove a point, but all his friends saw was him waving his hand in the air.
His friends looked at each other, and Minho felt bad.
“Jisungie,” Jisung looked at him, “I think I should go.”
Jisung’s eyes widened, “No! No, you can stay!” He looked back at his friends, “Why can I see him if you guys can’t? How does that make sense?”
The skinny guy spoke up, “Maybe you’ve finally gone off the deep end and now there’s no hope?” Jisung huffed a laugh, not believing the situation, “You know what,” He walked over to the basket of blankets sitting by the couch, “I’ll prove to you guys that he’s real.”
Just as he grabbed a blanket, another guy and Felix walked in, carrying plates of food, “What’s going on?” Minho assumed he was Chan. He looked like a Chan.
“I’m proving to you guys that my friend is real!”
Felix looked at him like he was a stray puppy, in need of shelter, and everyone else looked at him confused, like he was crazy. Jisung tossed the blanket over Minho, and it landed on top of him. It looked like a blanket floating mid-air, but you could see the outline of Minho’s head. He couldn’t see anything though.
“See?” Jisung took the blanket off and Minho saw everyone staring at him shocked. But they weren’t staring at him, they were staring at where he was, “I told you he was real!”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” The man sitting on the couch, next to the long haired one, said. Jisung smiled, proud of himself, and the fact that his friends now believe Minho exists.
Minho still felt bad, Jisung shouldn’t have had to prove anything so desperately, Minho should’ve saved him the trouble.
Once everyone got over the initial shock, Jisung was able to introduce everyone to Minho, “The two on the couch are Hyunjin and Jeongin, the two on the floor are Seungmin and Changbin, and the two in the kitchen are Chan and Felix.” He pointed to everyone as he spoke, “And, this is Minho.” He held a hand in front of Minho again, but this time, they actually believed him.
Except Seungmin, “I still think you’re crazy.”
“Can I touch him?” Hyunjin asked excitedly, already halfway off the couch. “Uh, sure, I guess.” Jisung answered awkwardly.
Hyunjin was tall, and very pretty for a man. He stood in front of Minho, squinting like he would make out a face if he looked hard enough. He wouldn’t, but it was funny to watch. He moved a hand in front of him, and it landed right on Minho’s face. Hyunjin looked shocked, like he wasn’t actually expecting to feel anything.
“Woah!” He felt around some more, moving his hand all over Minho’s face. He was very uncomfortable right now, trying to shy away from Hyunjin’s hand, but he kept following him.
“Hyunjin, you’re making him uncomfortable.” Jisung moved Hyunjin’s hand away but he didn’t seem to register what Jisung had said, “That’s so cool! How does that even work?” He looked down at his hand before putting it on Minho’s arm, exclaiming in surprise again.
“I still think Jisung’s crazy.” Seungmin said, but no one was listening. They were too busy watching Hyunjin feel Minho.
Dinner was nice, except for the fact that everybody was watching Minho eat. He was confused at first, and so was Jisung, but Minho remembered that all they saw was floating chopsticks shoveling rice and grilled pork belly into a mouth they couldn’t see. The food disappeared every time Minho closed his mouth, and they all seemed very entertained by that, no matter how many times they saw it.
Chan tried to ask him a few questions about himself, but they couldn’t hear him either, so Jisung had to be some sort of translator, which made him look even crazier. But Jisung was happy, and that was all Minho cared about.
After their early dinner, everyone was spread throughout the house. Kind of. Minho and Jisung were on the couch next to Hyunjin and Jeongin. Seungmin was in one of the armchairs next to the couch with Changbin in the one across from it, and Felix and Chan were cleaning up and doing dishes in the kitchen.
Felix and Chan have a dog. A little Pomeranian named Bo-mi.
She was orange, but the very tips of her paws were white. She was sweet. When she saw Minho, she sniffed his feet. He bent down to let her sniff his hand and she hasn’t moved away from him since.
She was laying on his lap on the couch, dead asleep. Her coat was very fluffy, it felt nice under his hand.
“She doesn’t get close with people that fast. You must be special.” Felix said softly, so he didn’t wake her up. Minho smiled and looked down at the dog. He was more of a cat person, but he still liked dogs.
He thought it was strange that animals could see him but humans couldn’t. Maybe that was a metaphor for something. Minho couldn’t tell you.
It was getting late, and the sun was going down without anyone even realizing it, too full from dinner to notice anything besides their stomach-aches. Hyunjin and Jeongin left first. Jeongin had to drag a half-asleep Hyunjin to the front door to put his shoes on. Everyone else said goodbye as they left, but Felix followed them to the door, holding a plate of desserts.
It was more at night by now. Minho had to assume it was around eight, and everyone was half-asleep, but no one wanted to leave.
Minho would like to be part of Jisung’s friend group in the future. When he’s actually visible. Even when he’s not, he feels like a part of something. Cared for. Valued, even. Though, that might be a bit dramatic.
Jisung’s head fell on Minho’s shoulder while he was zoned out. He looked down and saw Jisung asleep, his cheek smushed against Minho’s shoulder.
Minho smiled and brushed a piece of hair out of Jisung’s face.
So what if Minho had a little crush? It was going to happen eventually. It had to happen, for Minho’s sake. But Jisung doesn’t like him back, and to Minho, there’s a slim chance that he actually will.
Changbin and Seungmin left a little bit later. They acted like they hated each other, but Minho could tell they would do anything for the other person.
Felix followed them to the door with a plate of desserts.
Chan sat down in the chair that Seungmin was previously in with a loud groan. He sounded and acted like a dad. Or, what he assumed a dad acted like. Maybe a grandpa. Minho’s was kind of like that. Chan even had the reading glasses that sat low on his nose bridge.
Minho smiled at the memories. Bittersweet memories. His mom tried her best with what she had, Minho knows that, but he wonders if things would have been different if he had a dad to help him growing up.
He looked back over at Chan who was fast asleep with his head back against his chair and his phone slowly falling forward onto his chest. It hadn’t even been five minutes.
He watched Felix walk back into the living room and chuckle quietly when he noticed Chan’s state. He grabbed Chan’s phone and his glasses carefully and set them on the stand next to his chair, and grabbed a blanket from the basket to throw over him. He kissed Chan’s forehead before walking back into the kitchen, probably to make the next plate of desserts.
Minho would like something like that one day. The domestic feeling of it. Falling asleep in each other's arms, cooking together, owning a pet together, living together. Waking up and seeing the love of your life right in front of you.
He’d dreamt about it for a while, before he died.
After everything happened, he had kind of given up on his big dream. But now, maybe, he could have something like that with Jisung. Maybe.
Jisung stirred and lifted his head off of Minho’s shoulder, “What time is it?” He said groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “Probably around nine, I think.”
Jisung hummed and stretched, and Minho thought it was the cutest thing ever. The way his face scrunched up, the way his eyebrows furrowed. He wanted to see that all the time. He was greedy like that.
“We should probably go.”
Minho nodded, looking down at the dog still in his lap. He picked her up as they stood and started walking to the front door but Felix stopped them, “Wait, wait!”
He handed Jisung a plate of desserts, a mix of brownies and cookies that Minho could only assume Felix made himself. Minho set the dog down and watched her run off, probably to go lay with Chan.
“Thank you, ‘Lix.” Felix smiled, “You’re welcome. And,” He turned to Minho, only knowing where he was because of him previously holding Bo-mi, “Thank you for coming over.”
Minho smiled to himself. Felix was nice. He reminded Minho of his mother, in a way. His baking, his hosting, the atmosphere he created and kept around him. Minho liked it, there was an odd feeling of comfort he got by being near Felix.
“See you later.” Jisung said, pulling away from the hug Felix gave him. Minho didn’t notice that they hugged, he was too caught up in his own head, “Get home safe.” Felix said, waving, before closing the door behind them, leaving them on the front porch.
“Let me walk you home?” Minho asked, already knowing the answer. Jisung nodded, still a little tired, and grabbed Minho’s hand, intertwining their fingers.
Yeah, Minho thought. He could get used to this.