Work Text:
🕹 Neutral
“Hyung, hi!” Felix's voice said through the phone. It was the fifth time he had called. “Minho-hyung just texted me, he’s coming down. I told him he could text you, but he said he didn’t want your first contact to be through messages.”
“No problem, Lix. I’m waiting outside the car, so it won’t be hard for him to find me.”
“Thank you again for doing this, hyung. Minho-hyung can be a little… well he’s unique, but he’s a great person and I’m sure he will get along with you! Everyone here already loves him and—”
Felix started repeating his discourse again. He had been saying these exact same words ever since Chan offered Minho a ride for their annual trip.
It had all started four years ago, when they wanted to celebrate Jeongin’s 18th birthday. They took the train to Changbin’s country house and spent the best four days of their lives there, enjoying the last days of snow. They enjoyed it so much they repeated it the next year and made it their tradition.
This year, though, Minho was joining. He was Felix’s cousin, and his name had come up in nearly every conversation, with Felix smiling every time he mentioned him or showed the group pictures of the two of them.
But despite hearing so much about him, Chan still hadn’t met him in person. Minho had moved to Seoul recently, and while the whole group had already met him, Chan couldn’t get any spare time from work to do so.
When they were discussing their vacation plans, Felix asked if Minho could go along this time, and Chan thought it would be a good chance to finally meet him — especially because both of them couldn’t get off work earlier, so they’d be the last two to arrive.
Now, Chan was standing in front of Minho’s building, waiting for him to come down while Felix called him every ten minutes.
“Lix, hey, it’s ok. Don’t worry, giving Minho a ride was my idea, remember? And he shares your bloodline, so I’m sure he’s fine!”
“Can you smell this?” Another voice suddenly said through the phone. Seungmin. “It’s his overwhelming desire to be a people pleaser.”
“Only you’re smelling that, dog.”
“YAH! Who — ”
“OKAY,” Felix said louder, trying to muffle Seungmin’s protests. “Thank you again hyung! Have a safe trip, bye bye!”
The call ended before Chan could even answer anything. He giggled a little and put his phone in his pocket just as a new (and this time unknown) voice became present.
“If you’re the one who came up with the Seungmin dog agenda, I already like you.” It was funny hearing that from an angel on earth. Because that’s exactly what the man in front of Chan looked like: a divine being who belonged to the heavens, not the mortal realm.
His black hair was soft and shiny, though not as shiny as his perfect-looking skin. His face was strongly defined, but his pointed nose and small, cute mouth added a delicateness to the whole piece, making it perfectly balanced. He looked a little different from the pictures Felix had shown them, but the eyes were the same—looking at Chan as if he could read his mind.
“I’m Minho,” he said, offering a hand.
“I know,” Chan answered too fast to sound cool. Minho smirked discreetly, shaking their hands once Chan finally took his. “I’m Chan.”
“I know.”
They smiled at each other for a few seconds before Chan offered to help Minho with his bag. It didn’t take long after that before they were in the car, seatbelts clicked.
Chan set the address on his GPS, even knowing most of the way by heart now. Their first trip was by bus, but for the other three, Chan already had his license and his car, so he always opted to drive, enjoying the silence of a solo road trip, looking at the landscapes and listening to his favorite playlist. Sometimes he’d get tired, or even bored, but for most of the time, he enjoyed his time alone.
But now Minho was sitting right beside him, and it would be like that for the next two and a half hours. It wasn’t a long trip, but Chan refused to spend it in complete awkwardness. This was his chance to get to know Minho a little better, especially now that he would definitely become a member of their friend group.
The radio played softly in the background while Minho scrolled slowly on his phone with one hand, the other resting against his mouth, thumb touching his lips as he absently bit the corner of his nail. Before Chan could even start the engine, Minho kicked off his shoes and sat on one of his white-socked feet. Even with the silence between them, Minho looked comfortable — and that brought a strange feeling of accomplishment to Chan, for not being someone who disconcerted Minho.
He could hear Seungmin’s voice whispering “people pleaser” somewhere in his head.
“It’s a great house,” Chan said, breaking the silence. He kept his eyes on the road but still noticed Minho locking his phone and setting it down. “Changbin’s, I mean. It’s big, but cozy. There’s a fireplace in the living room, so it’s perfect for this weather.”
“Yongbokie showed me some pictures from your previous trips, seems pretty cool. He said there’s even a dog house, so Seungmin has somewhere to sleep.”
Being Felix’s boyfriend, Seungmin had been the first of their group to meet Minho, back when he still lived in Gimpo. Felix had gone to spend a weekend with his family and brought his special one with him. It was hatred at first sight (it wasn’t—they actually got along really well), and when they came back to Seoul, Minho had another fan to talk about him with their friend group.
“Are you a dog person, or something?”
“I’m more of a really-enjoy-getting-on-Seungmin’s-nerves person,” Minho said, making both of them laugh. “I’m actually a cat person.” He took advantage of the red light to show Chan his lockscreen — a picture of three fluffy creatures. “That’s Soonie, Doongie and Dori. My babies.”
Chan watched Minho looking at his phone with such care, his eyes soft and his smile small but genuine. Those were his babies. “So cute,” Chan said, before driving again at the green light. “Did they come with you?”
“No.” Minho pouted. He pouted. “I’m still adapting here, and my working schedule is still a mess. I don’t want to bring them and then leave them alone.”
“Yeah, I did the same with my girl when I moved here,” Chan answered, and Minho nodded, suddenly in silence.
Maybe Minho was tired, so Chan didn’t think much of it. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Minho spoke again:
“And you two are still together?”
“Huh?”
“You and your girl.”
“Oh.” Chan got it. He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t because he had the feeling that it would embarrass Minho. “No, my girl is Berry, my dog. Please, pick my phone up, she’s my lockscreen too.”
The road was nearly empty, and they weren’t in a hurry, so Chan allowed himself to glance at Minho for a second. His face was neutral, but his ears were so red it looked painful. Chan tightened his grip on the steering wheel, suppressing the urge to reach out and touch him, as Minho picked up Chan’s huge phone in his small hand.
“Awn, she’s so cute,” he said, looking at the picture. Chan had looked at Berry’s photo so many times it was engraved in his mind — she was close to the camera, giving judgmental side eyes. He’d made it his lockscreen as soon as his mom sent it. “And she has personality too,” Minho complemented.
Chan laughed. “She does, and I blame my younger sister for that.”
They fell in silence once again, but this time it was comfortable. Minho placed Chan’s phone back where it had been and crossed both legs on the seat.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t just assume that,” Minho said after a moment.
“No! It’s okay, really. I chose my words poorly too.”
“You didn’t, I just called my cats babies.”
“True, but still. I always forget not everyone knows I’m gay, so calling my dog ‘my girl’ wasn’t the best idea.”
And just like that, Chan came out to Minho.
He never had a problem with his sexuality, and Minho would have figured it out anyway. Still, it wasn’t something you just throw out there like you’re sharing your favorite color. It was personal, and even if he was open about it, it was still hard to bring up every time. Yet telling Minho had been so easy it made Chan realize that not only was Minho comfortable around him, but he felt comfortable around Minho too.
“It makes sense,” Minho said, and Chan looked quickly at him, just to show he was still listening, despite paying attention to the road. “You, being gay. Felix looks up too much to you, if you were straight I’d be disappointed.”
Chan laughed again. Minho was laughing a little too.
“Well, he looks up to you a lot too,” Chan said, feeling shy.
“Of course he does! Who do you think was his first gay icon?”
At this point, Chan was grateful the road had no other car in sight, because he was laughing so hard, his eyes were almost closing. “What does this say about us?”
“Well, I don’t know. But I have a feeling that we make a great duo.”
🕹 Low gear
“We will be there in… an hour? Or so,” Minho answered on his phone. Felix was calling him again, and Chan had lost count of how many times it had happened.
“WHAT? AN HOUR?” His voice, usually so deep, was suddenly very high. “Why are you guys taking so long?”
The thing is, everyone loved their annual trip; even Minho, who had only joined them last year, had been planning a month ahead. But Felix loved it the most. He loved being surrounded by all his friends, cooking, eating, playing games. He loved the overlapping voices, the loud laughter. And for that to feel complete, the group had to be complete too, otherwise the “party didn’t feel right.”
Being the only two left to arrive, Minho and Chan expected a few calls from an anxious Felix and some texts from an also anxious, but less intense, Jisung.
What they didn’t expect was the heated makeout session at Minho's place before leaving.
“I, uh, we had to stop for gas,” Minho tried to excuse them, his ears getting red. Chan loved when that happened.
“For an hour?”
“Are you tracking us or something?” Minho was speaking louder now, a clear sign he was nervous. Cute. “Look, my phone is dying, and Chan-hyung is driving, so please don’t call again unless it’s an emergency. See you in an hour.”
He ended the call before Felix could say anything else.
“I have a charger here, if you need it.”
“It’s okay, I’m still at 73%,” Minho said, sounding defeated. He was sitting with both legs crossed on the car seat, holding his phone between them. Chan almost had a déjà vu. “I just needed something to hang up without breaking Yongbokie’s heart.”
They fell into silence, but their minds were racing against each other; Chan could tell just by the distant look on Minho’s face.
He knew exactly what he was thinking about. It was something they both had been thinking about non-stop: should they tell the others or not?
After the last trip, Minho and Chan had gotten really close. Minho always made Chan laugh, and Chan always felt so at ease around Minho—seeking him out for help, for comfort. They clicked immediately, and Minho felt like he had always been part of the group (he kinda was).
Back then, they got back together, in Chan’s car. While waiting for Minho to get to his apartment safely, Chan received a text:
Lee Minho:
Still recovering from the emotional damage of trusting my life to you twice
And a few seconds later:
Lee Minho:
Worth it tho :)
Chan smiled big before typing:
You almost sound sincere, but the ‘:)’ threw me off.
Lee Minho:
This was me flirting. You just lost your chance.
Chan laughed and looked up at Minho’s building, spotting him in his window smirking. Chan waved; Minho rolled his eyes and closed the curtains.
Lost his chance, his ass.
That was proven by the hundreds of flirty texts they exchanged almost daily after that and by all the rides Chan gave Minho whenever the group hung out.
It was also proven the night Minho asked Chan to come in. “Just for a cup of tea,” he’d said.
It was funny how shy Minho looked, showing his small apartment.
It was so cute how Minho sat close to Chan on his couch, ears turning red when Chan told him he was pretty.
It was devastating how Minho closed his eyes right before Chan closed the gap between them.
It was so hot how Minho moaned his name and scratched his back when that gap disappeared altogether.
This became their dynamic.
Whenever they were alone, they wouldn’t miss the opportunity to steal kisses and make out. Their rides became even more frequent, and sometimes, if they missed each other too much, they would show up unannounced at their respective places.
They worked so well together and they were having a great time, but every time any of their friends asked or implied anything about them, Minho tensed immediately. He kept his face neutral, but Chan already knew him well enough to notice his shoulders stiffening, his leg bouncing and his eyes drifting away.
Chan also knew him well enough not to push, so they came to this silent agreement to keep their situationship a secret. And honestly, he didn’t mind. He liked the thrill of doing something behind everyone’s back, of having something only he and Minho shared.
What he didn’t like was seeing Minho this distressed. So maybe it was time for the question they’d been avoiding.
“We could tell them, you know,” Chan said, lowering the radio’s volume. “It’s not a problem for me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried,” Minho replied, making Chan lift an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not worried about that.”
“What are you worried about, then?”
“Time.”
Chan turned off the radio, giving Minho all the attention he could while driving.
“What if it’s too late?” Minho continued. “We’ve been… doing this for almost a year now. I’m scared that the boys, especially Yongbokie, will be sad to know after so long. But at the same time…” He took a deep breath. “What if it's too soon?”
“What do you mean? Too soon for what?”
“For… us?” Minho said quietly, unsure, staring at the roof. “When we tell them, it will make it all real. Then we’ll have to label what we are, and we're gonna have new responsibilities, and… I don’t even know what you want, where you wanna go with all this, you know?”
Chan’s heart reacted in a way that made him consider stopping the car for a few minutes.
Minho was right — they’d never talked about what they were, or what they wanted. They just decided to enjoy it, and keeping it secret helped keep things… working.
But working for what? And for how long?
“Minho, I get what you’re saying. And I really think we should talk about it. Do you wanna do it now?” he asked calmly and genuinely.
“Yes, please. This is becoming a problem, and I don’t like it. And we’re going on our annual trip; I don’t want secrets getting between us anymore.”
“Ok. Yeah, I’m gonna need to stop the car.”
Chan pulled onto the next road shoulder. They sat in silence, sorting their thoughts. When the car stopped completely, he unbuckled and turned to Minho, who was already facing him.
“How — how should we do this?” Chan was getting nervous, his hands getting sweaty, and he realized turning off the car was maybe a bad idea, because that meant turning the AC off too.
“Do you like me?” Minho asked directly. His face was serious, but his ears were so red. He was so cute.
“Of course I like you,” Chan replied, seeing a half-second of relief in Minho’s eyes. “Do you really think I would be doing all this if I didn’t?”
“No, that’s not…” Minho rubbed between his eyebrows. “How much do you like me?”
“This is sounding more like a quiz than a talk.” Chan returned. “Let’s take turns asking questions, okay?”
“Ok.”
“How much do you like me?” Chan asked, smirking.
“A lot,” Minho answered immediately, wiping the smirk off Chan’s face. “Do you think it would work if we… dated?”
“Aren’t we dating already?”
“You can’t answer a question with another question!”
“Ok, sorry!” Chan lifted his hands defensively. “I do. I really do.”
And he meant it. He’d never stopped to define what they were becoming, but he thought about how Minho made him feel wanted and needed. How well they worked together. How easy it would be to live with him. How Minho was always there before Chan even realized he needed help. How his heart doubled in size whenever Minho laughed. How he paid attention to every detail of Minho’s face. How natural it felt waking up together after spending the night in each other’s bed. How Minho felt more than familiar.
He thought about how much he thought about Minho.
“Minho,” he said, reaching for the other’s fidgety hands and squeezing them. “I like you. I like you a lot.”
Minho sat there, looking at their hands. He took a deep breath and looked at Chan. “That’s not a question.”
Chan laughed softly, leaned closer, and looked into his eyes. “Then I’ll ask you one: do you wanna be my boyfriend? Officially.”
Minho couldn’t avoid his gaze—not that he wanted to. He searched for any sign Chan wasn’t serious and found none.
“You think you’re so smooth, don’t you, Channie?” He tried to hold a smile, but the corner of his mouth was acting on its own.
Chan, on the other hand, was fully smiling. “You can’t answer a question with another question.”
Minho giggled, cupped Chan’s face with both hands, and kissed him—softly at first, then harder. Chan braced himself with one arm on the passenger seat while the other hand rested on Minho’s waist. He gave a small squeeze, teasing his now-boyfriend (because there was no way Minho would say no after that) and got exactly the reaction he wanted. When Minho sighed, relieved and content, Chan finally felt his own body relax.
They kept kissing and biting at each other’s mouths, smiling between kisses and staring with fondness, wrapped in their own bubble like always. And they could have stayed like that for hours if Minho’s phone hadn’t rung.
Felix.
“Hyung, I know I wasn’t supposed to call unless it’s an emergency,” he burst out as soon as Minho picked up and put it on speaker, “but I am tracking you, and you two have stopped again for a few minutes and — I’m sorry, I’m just worried and anxious and —”
“Yongbok-ah.” Minho said, steady but softly, just to cut Felix’s ramble. “We’re okay. We stopped to make out.” He grinned at Chan. “Me and my boyfriend will be there in, well, an hour or so.”
“WHAT?” They heard Felix scream at the same time Jisung let out an “I KNEW IT!”
🕹 Reverse
“Ugh.” Minho spat, changing the radio station for the nth time. “What’s with all these English songs today?”
He was in a bad mood, and this was getting Chan in a bad mood too. Scratch that, this was getting Chan in the worst mood.
And he couldn’t even blame Minho.
It had been a few weeks like this, ever since Chan called Minho after work, asking to meet him. They were both on Minho’s couch when Chan dropped the bomb.
“I — I’ll need to make a business trip.” He swallowed.
“Okay…” Minho answered, sitting closer to Chan. His face was confused, and he was trying to look at Chan’s eyes, but Chan couldn’t look at him. “Isn’t this a good thing? I don’t get it.”
It was a good thing, a great thing even. Something Chan had been expecting for a long time, an opportunity only a few would have. But this was before… before he had Minho.
“Yeah, it’s a project from the company. I applied for it years ago, when I had just joined. It was so long ago, I had even forgotten about it. It is a study program they offer to the best employees, and my performance was really good this year and — ” He sighed. “And they had a spot, and they offered it to me.”
“Channie! This is great!” Minho said happily, standing up. Chan’s heart got smaller. “Love, what’s wrong?”
Chan looked up at him. There was no more beating around the bush. “It’s a two-year program, Min. In the US.”
“Oh.” Minho said, sitting back beside Chan. “Oh.”
“I had to take it,” Chan tried to say.
“Of course, Channie! Of course.” Minho held his hand, looking at him. He was smiling, but Chan could see that even if he was trying, it wasn’t genuine. “You deserve it, baby. I’m really happy for you.”
“But what about — ”
“Let’s not talk about it right now. We’ll talk better tomorrow,” he interrupted. “Let’s call the boys, go out for drinks and celebrate! It’s a big deal for you, Channie!”
And they did exactly that. The next day, they sat down to talk and figure things out. They loved each other a lot, but they also had their own dreams and personal goals to achieve. Chan couldn’t let this opportunity pass, but Minho couldn’t drop his own projects to leave with Chan. And that was something both of them understood, but it didn’t make it any easier.
“I wish I could say we could wait for each other, Chan,” Minho said. “But not having you here would really hurt me. I’m someone who values presence and physical touch. Having you, but not completely… I just can’t.”
Chan knew what that meant, and he was grateful Minho was being honest about it now rather than later. Thinking about it, he thinks he would suffer too, having a long-distance relationship. So they agreed to end things after their next annual trip.
Here is the part where Chan would like to say that things were okay, but he would be lying. The last few days were really hard, with him and Minho trying to find a balance between enjoying every moment and distancing themselves. During the day, they didn’t see each other, but Chan spent almost every night in Minho’s apartment, which gave him a front view of Minho growing quieter and sadder each day, barking at any minimal English or American reference.
Just like he was doing right now, with the radio stations.
“Min.” Chan said, his tone low, trying to be patient. “Please.”
“Please what?” Minho answered, challenging him.
Chan huffed, reaching out and turning off the radio. If Minho wanted to be childish, he would be childish too.
They sat in silence after that. Chan’s eyes were on the road, but his head was everywhere. He understood Minho’s side, he really did, but it wasn’t an easy decision for him either.
His heart was screaming for him to give up on this stupid exchange program and be with Minho, but his brain knew better. He had worked hard for this recognition, and it would be great for him personally and professionally. Minho knew that too; he was being supportive, Chan couldn’t deny that.
He took a heavy breath. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. He turned to say that to Minho, but what he saw shocked him.
Minho was crying.
His hands were covering his face, but the movement of his shoulders made it obvious. It was the first time in almost two years of dating that Chan had seen Minho cry.
“Min…” he said, reaching for his thigh.
“I’m sorry,” Minho tried to dry his tears with the back of his hands. “I’m sorry. I hate crying, it’s useless. I just…” He sobbed lightly, almost imperceptibly, and a few more tears fell. “I don’t know what to do with all this. And when I don’t know how to solve things, I just cry. I’m sorry, Channie, I know this is hard for you too.”
“Stop apologizing, baby,” he said. The knot in his throat was so big he was almost choking. “It’s okay to cry. I’m the one who’s sorry. I wish there were something we could do too.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Minho said, holding Chan’s hand, still on his thigh. “We talked about it and we reached an agreement. I don’t regret the choices we made. I just thought it would be easier, letting you go. As it turns out, not having you at all also hurts me a lot.”
Chan squeezed his hand. “I know, I’m hurting too.” It was true. Chan himself had cried a few times as well. Leaving was as hard as being the one staying. “Do you want me to stop the car?”
“No, please. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed already.”
The trip continued in silence. Chan eventually had to hold the steering wheel with both his hands. Minho cried a few more tears before finally calming down. The radio stayed off.
“I really thought we would marry each other, you know?” Minho said after a while. His voice was gentle, and Chan knew he wasn’t telling him that to hurt him — he was only sharing a thought before it was too late.
It didn’t make his heart break any less, though.
“Who knows? The future is a mystery.” Chan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wished he could believe in his own words, but he was feeling too pessimistic for that.
“Don’t give me hope, Chan. It won’t help.”
The silence was back, but it wasn’t awkward. It was worse. It was sad, heavy, and almost painful.
Chan noticed it was the first time Felix hadn’t called at least once. Minho must have told him what they had decided, and he probably wanted to give them their last few moments together. Ironically, Chan wished he had called today; it might have brought a little joy into the almost-grief they were feeling.
“I can’t believe this is our last trip,” Minho said, before turning the radio on again.
It was a Korean song, at least.
🕹 Stop
Their last trip was terrible.
Everyone was sad about Chan’s moving, but they were also aware of the decision he and Minho had made, and because of that the whole group was walking on eggshells around them, turning what was supposed to be their happiest time of the year into one of the worst.
They came back, and they had two weeks until Chan’s departure. Minho helped him pack, sell some things, and even with the countless documents Chan had to read and sign. It was nice having Minho’s help, because it was also the only time they had together. They stopped sleeping at each other’s place, they texted only what was necessary, and Minho prohibited Chan from offering him rides, always taking an Uber or the bus.
It was fair; it was in their spoken contract. After the trip, they wouldn’t be a couple anymore.
It still hurt Chan, though, every time Minho replied with only a “yes,” no heart emojis, no jokes, no flirting. Or when Minho gave Chan back all his things that were still left in his apartment. Or when Minho would greet him with only words and a hand wave — no kisses, not even a hug. No touch at all.
That was a version of Minho that Chan had never met before: distant, cold, and painfully forced.
All of his friends accompanied him to the airport, even Minho, which was a good surprise. They waited until Chan’s flight was announced, and Chan stood up to say his goodbyes. His body felt twice as heavy as he hugged each one of them.
Minho was the last one. His eyes were watery, and Chan knew he was trying the hardest not to cry.
They stood before each other, neither of them knowing exactly what to do. Chan sighed, ready to offer his hand and be respectful, when Minho closed the distance between them and kissed him.
His lips were so soft against Chan’s. Chan’s body instantly lighter, but his foot heavier. He wanted to stay — he wanted to stay so badly. He wanted to take Minho’s hand and go back home. He would kiss Minho some more, and they would go to the bedroom and love each other with every centimeter of their bodies. He wanted to kneel and marry Minho, exactly how Minho had hoped for. He wanted to stay.
But he needed to leave.
His face was wet, and he didn’t know if it was because of Minho’s tears or his own. “I’m sorry, Min. I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. I wanted more time.”
“I love you, Minho.”
“I know.” Minho gave him a quick liplock. “I love you too.”
They separated and Chan walked away. He turned one last time to his friends. Run, Minho, now, he thought. Run, come with me or make me stay.
Minho closed his eyes, turned his back, and walked the other way. It was the end.
It was also the last time he saw Minho.
During the program, Minho didn’t text him once. Not in private, not in the group chat. He never called, either. He vanished from all his social media — not really deleting any of them, but never updating or posting anything.
Chan tried to make contact, but never got an answer. He asked Felix about it, and the only reply he got was:
Lixie ⟡:
He’s okay, hyung. Don’t worry. Minho-hyung can be like this sometimes.
Chan didn’t insist.
It was clear that Minho’s mind was made. He didn’t want Chan in his life anymore — he had told him he wasn’t made for long-distance relationships, after all. But Chan had hoped they could at least be friends, talking once in a blue moon.
He hoped in vain; that wouldn’t happen. And it was okay, maybe it was for the better. This way, he could focus on his studies and job completely, not mourning the past but going for his future instead.
And this was what he did. Or at least he tried.
He would wake up every day and think about all the things he would do while sipping tea from his mug. But then he would miss the smell of Minho’s coffee and the delicious breakfast he used to make. In class, he would focus most of the time, but then someone would say something ridiculous and his first thought would be to text Minho about it. At the end of the day, coming back home, he would see this beautiful gray cat, and well… he didn’t have to say where his mind instantly went.
That’s what his life became: existing every day with traces of Minho in his head.
The next time he heard from Minho — or more specifically heard Minho — was in his 9th month of the program. Felix sent him a message asking to make a video call, and that set off an alert. They used to FaceTime each other a lot in the first few months, but it wasn’t as common at that point. And for Felix to ask before calling? Something must have happened.
“Hyung, look!” said Felix, showing his left hand. A big, beautiful, shiny ring on his fourth finger. Oh, something definitely happened. “Seungmin finally proposed to me!”
I really thought we would marry each other, you know?
Chan’s mind went back to Minho crying on the way to their last group trip. His heart twinged.
“That’s amazing, Lix!” His intentions were genuine, but he still forced a smile. He was very happy for his friends, of course, but he couldn’t help feeling a little jealous too. “You guys deserve this, really.”
“Thank you so much, hyung! And don’t worry, we will wait until you —” He was interrupted by a voice calling his name.
“Yongbok-ah!”
Minho.
Felix’s eyes went wide and he froze on the screen. Chan checked his internet connection, but he was still online. “Lix?”
“Sorry hyung! I forgot Minho-hyung was coming over, I have to go now.” He said, finally unfreezing. He looked at Chan through the camera, his eyes showing some pity that Chan didn’t like to see. “I’m really sorry, hyung. We all miss you very much. We’ll talk more later.”
And he hung up.
Minho didn’t say anything else, didn’t even show up on the video, but still, that night, Chan went to sleep with his heart racing.
The days went by, and in a blink of an eye, Chan was coming back to Korea.
His friends were all waiting for him at the airport. Except Minho.
“He couldn’t get off work,” said Changbin, noticing Chan looking for someone else.
It was okay, he could catch Minho later.
A month went by. Chan was fully settled already, getting used to his new routine at work after coming back from the program, and he tried to see the boys whenever he could. But still no sign of Minho.
On his third month back, Felix and Seungmin asked him out for lunch. It was a Saturday; the day was sunny but not hot, just like a perfect spring day. They met at this cute bistro with two floors, big windows, and tables inside and outside. Felix and Seungmin were already sitting, their table the closest to the window.
They talked about the wedding, the date getting closer. He listened to Seungmin explaining how it would be a small but meaningful ceremony, just for their closest friends and family. They would travel to New Zealand afterward to marry officially and then go to Australia for their honeymoon. Felix talked about how they didn’t choose one but six best men for their marriage, just so no one would be left out.
“Minho-hyung, Jisung and Hyunjin will be on my side,” he explained. “You, Changbin-hyung and Jeongin on Seungmin’s.”
Chan listened carefully to everything. They had it all planned out and it was a great plan. He smiled and congratulated them again, his heart almost full of warmth.
Except for the tiny jealousy he still felt.
He didn’t let the feeling last long, though. They didn’t deserve any of it; they only deserved happiness and love, nothing else.
Seungmin left earlier for another appointment, leaving Felix and Chan alone. They discussed a few Australian destinations Seungmin wanted to visit, but soon Felix changed the subject.
“Minho-hyung is fine, by the way.” He smiled softly. “I know you wanted to ask, so I’m sparing you.”
Chan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Felix was right — he had wanted to ask about Minho ever since they arrived at the bistro. He didn’t want to seem desperate or selfish, he knew they wanted to talk about the wedding, after all. So he held back. But Felix could always read right through him.
“I haven’t seen him yet. Actually the last time I saw his face was the day I left.” Chan played with the straw of his drink. “It’s almost like he deleted me from his life.”
“He didn’t,” Felix answered too fast. He sighed before continuing. “I mean, I can see why you think that, but… it was really hard for him when you left, hyung. He stopped using his socials, afraid he would see anything from you, and he focused everything on his work, almost in an unhealthy way.”
It was hard to hear that. Chan knew it wouldn’t be easy for either of them, but he didn’t think it would be so hard for Minho too. Chan was also suffering on the other side of the ocean, but it was his choice to do so. Minho didn’t have to suffer because of him as well.
He felt Felix holding his hand. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, exactly like a mind reader would. “We were here, we helped him.”
“And how is he now?”
“He’s fine, hyung. He got into an entertainment company as a dance teacher, and he teaches the new trainees. He loves the job, loves the kids. He has a stable schedule now.”
“He brought the cats?” Chan asked, feeling the smallest knot in his throat. Felix squeezed his hand.
“He did, yeah. He still lives in the same place. He got his driver’s license too, but he never drives. Says he doesn’t like it, he prefers being in the passenger seat.”
For some reason, this awakened something inside Chan. A flame so tiny it was almost imperceptible. The car rides were always something for the two of them, a special moment. Knowing Minho still liked being in the passenger seat was almost like knowing he had kept some kind of tradition, and this came to Chan as a hopeful feeling that maybe Minho thought like that too.
He wanted to ask more about Minho, to know everything about every single day of his from the past two years. He could listen to Felix talk about his cousin for hours and hours, just like he used to before he met Minho. But he chose to ask one last thing.
“Is he… does he have someone?”
The smile on Felix’s face changed from gentle to teasing before he answered.
“He does, hyung. He has you.”
🕹 High gear
After almost three years, Minho’s building was slightly different.
It still had the same off-white-beige color, but more windows were decorated with plants now. It looked like it had more residents too, since parking was a little harder this time.
The doorman was also new, and kept looking at Chan from time to time. He missed the old one, Mr. Choi, always so kind and welcoming.
He was leaning on his car, hand in his pocket. Felix and Seungmin’s wedding would be on the weekend, at Changbin’s country house, the same place they used to go for their annual trips. Seungmin said it was the best option because, besides being much cheaper, it was also a meaningful place for all of them.
Chan agreed — especially after Felix asked him if it would be ok for him to give Minho a ride. He tried to keep it cool and answered with a simple “sure”, instead of screaming a “HELL YEAH” like he actually wanted to. He knew Minho could find other ways to go, he could even rent a car if he wanted. But for some heavenly reason Chan wouldn’t question, he agreed to go with Chan.
It was the reason Chan received a text from Minho again after years.
Min ♡:
Does 10pm work for you? I have to wait for my neighbor to wake up so I can leave my keys with him. He’ll take care of my cats for me.
Sure. See you at 10pm.
Min ♡:
👍
The like emoji wasn’t the reaction of his dreams, but it was something.
He still hadn’t seen Minho in person. Felix had shown him some pictures, but none were recent. “Minho hyung is not wearing this purple hair anymore,” he had said. A pity, it suited him so well. Still, how Minho looked right now was a mystery, since they hadn’t met since Chan came back.
Chan eventually made peace with it, deciding he wouldn’t insist. He would wait until Minho was ready.
Which was in the next minutes, apparently.
His heart started beating faster, and he had to pinch his thighs through his pockets again. His leg was probably red already from how many times he’d done that in the last half hour.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. Getting nervous wouldn’t help him in any way.
Then he heard the small wheels of a suitcase rolling over asphalt and opened his eyes.
Minho.
He was there, just a few steps away, walking toward him. One hand held his suitcase, the other the garment bag where his suit probably was. His face was unreadable, that same expression he used to get when something upset him and he didn’t want Chan to notice. His body was more fit now, his white shirt fitting him almost too well. He was a little paler, but his skin looked like it could glow. And his hair — oh god, his hair. Its natural color, but longer than Chan had ever seen it. He was using sunglasses to hold it back, though a few strands still fell beautifully across his face.
He looked so beautiful. Exactly like he was, but somehow more.
He was different, yet painfully familiar.
Just like the building.
Just like Chan.
“Hi!” Chan said, nervously. “Here, let me help you.”
He opened the trunk and placed Minho’s things next to his own. Minho stayed silent, and Chan had never yearned so much to hear his voice. He pulled down the trunk’s door, and they stood facing each other.
Chan looked at him, but Minho looked at the ground. The tops of his ears were red, and Chan wished he could touch them like he used to.
A light breeze blew, enough to make him shiver. Should he say something? Stay quiet like Minho and respect his space? Should they acknowledge what happened in the past or should they just move on like nothing happened?
He scoffed internally. Like he could pretend that nothing happened. He had gone abroad for two years, came back and lived in Seoul again for almost a year. He worked, laughed, cried, saw his friends, met new people, watched movies, visited new places — but he did all of that waiting for the day he would see Minho again.
And here he was.
Looking exactly like what he was: the most beautiful man alive.
The wind blew again. He saw Minho shiver this time. They should get in the car and go.
“Are you—”
Chan stopped talking because, suddenly, Minho was in his arms. Hugging him tightly.
He didn’t think twice before hugging him back, his arms around Minho’s waist, careful not to squeeze too hard, but still trying to hold him as close as possible. He pressed his face into Minho’s neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent of Minho’s perfume, the same one he always used. Chan felt breathless, but in the way you feel when you finally break through the surface after being underwater too long: relief and longing crashing together.
“Hi, hyung,” Minho said, and Chan almost cried. He was just so happy they were there, finally in each other’s arms again, he didn’t even mind how Minho called him hyung instead of Channie.
“Hi, Minho-yah.”
He wished he could stay like that forever, never letting go of Minho again. But maybe that was asking for too much.
Minho pulled away from the hug, clearing his throat and avoiding Chan’s eyes again. Chan read the moment for what it was, gathered himself, and went to the driver’s side. It was time to go.
They stayed in silence for the first minutes, just like they did when they first met, but Minho wasn’t comfortable this time. He was still wearing his shoes and sitting properly instead of putting his leg up like he always did. His phone in his hand, his thumb selecting the number on the sudoku game he was playing.
Chan checked the GPS. They still had almost two hours until their destination. He tightened his grip on the wheel, gathering up some courage.
“So,” he said, his voice low. “How have you been?”
“You know,” Minho shrugged. “The same.”
Chan nodded. The same what? He wanted to ask, but decided not to. He also decided to ignore how Minho didn’t ask him back.
“The study program was good,” Chan insisted. No reaction. “There are a lot of places in America I think you would like to visit.”
“I don’t think so, but sure.”
Minho’s game chimed; he won the match. He started another one.
“Lix told me you are working under a company now. That's nice.”
“Yeah,” he answered without looking up from his phone. “It’s nice. And since I’m there as a teacher and not a choreographer, the schedule is fixed.”
“Cool.” Chan tried not to show how he felt a little happier hearing more than two sentences from him. “Do you want to be a choreographer in a few years?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t plan things for the future anymore.” He answered automatically. Chan held the wheel even tighter, the tiny spark of happiness leaving his body. “I just live the day I have to live.”
Chan nodded again and kept silent. Minho’s words echoing in his head and stomach.
“And I like the kids I teach, the new trainees. They’re cute,” Minho added. Maybe he felt some of Chan’s tension. “And I also get to spend time at home with the cats.”
“Oh right! They’re living with you now.” He hoped this subject would make Minho talk more.
“Yeah, they are.” He hesitated a little before closing his sudoku game and opening his gallery. He waited until the next red light to show Chan a picture: all three cats eating on what Chan recognized as Minho’s kitchen floor.
He’d met the cats a few times, when they visited Minho’s parents. They got used to Chan pretty quickly and it made him so happy, because he knew how much Minho loved his cats.
“Oh my god! Look at Dori, he grew up so much!” Chan said, his heart growing inside his chest. “I miss them so much.” He let it slip from his mouth.
Minho glanced at him, their eyes meeting briefly before he returned to his phone.
“They miss you too,” he said after a moment, voice so low Chan almost doubted he heard it. “You were always Dori’s favorite anyway.”
They were back to being quiet. Chan checked the GPS again — still a long way to go. And, while this made him nervous because he hated this… situation he and Minho were in, he also wished this trip would last forever, so that he wouldn’t have to leave Minho’s side ever again.
But, at the same time, was it worth it? Having him by his side without even knowing if that was what Minho wanted too? He didn’t call Chan once, didn’t text him back. Didn’t even visit him when he returned. Chan was trying so hard to start small talk and make the trip a little more bearable, but Minho kept giving him almost nothing.
He remembered the last time he saw Minho, at the airport, and his heart started beating faster. Minho was the first one to turn around — the last thing Chan saw before going into that plane was Minho’s back.
He felt his hands sweating and his body temperature rising despite the AC.
Did Minho even…
“What about you?” Chan blurted out, his anxious thoughts overtaking his common sense. “Did you miss me at all?”
He felt Minho freeze. In his peripheral vision, Chan saw Minho lock his phone and stare out the window.
“Chan…” His tone was almost scolding, which only made Chan angrier.
“Because I did,” Chan said first. “I missed you so much every single day. I’d go back to the apartment I was living in and couldn’t even call it home, because my home was here with you. I wanted to call you, and tell you about my day, hear about yours, but you went MIA, Minho. You didn’t call me, didn’t text back, disappeared from all your socials. I survived almost two years with nothing but the memory of you! And when I came back, you… you didn’t even look for me.”
“We had an agreement, Chan, we broke things off,” Minho said, his voice still like a whisper. “And I never said I would wait for you.”
“And I never asked you to. But I thought we could at least keep being friends.” Chan tried to swallow the knot in his throat. “I just… I just don’t understand how you could turn your back on me and forget about us so quickly.”
Minho let out a humorless laugh, rubbing his eyebrow. Chan wanted to scream — not at Minho, but at the world. Just let all his feelings out.
“Can you stop the car?” Minho asked suddenly.
“What?”
“Please stop the car. Just for a bit.”
Chan sighed. He drove a few more minutes before pulling over onto the shoulder. He barely stopped the car and Minho was already unbuckling his seatbelt. He looked in the rearview before getting out of the car and walking around it, stopping next to the back left door. He squatted, using the car as back support, his head falling between his arms resting on his legs as if it were too heavy for him to keep up.
The grip Chan had on the wheel was still tight and he only noticed it when his fingers started to hurt. He let out a long and heavy breath, letting his body feel all the invisible weight he had on him. He fucked up.
It wasn’t his intention at all; he wasn’t the kind of person who holds someone accountable, on the contrary, he was always trying to make everyone around him comfortable, and he was trying to do it with Minho too. Seungmin was right after all, Chan was a people pleaser.
But he was also hurt. And even if he tried to understand where Minho was coming from, he couldn’t deny that this cold-shoulder treatment was hurting him even more.
They had an agreement, yes. And yeah, it was his decision to leave, but Minho was always supportive too. So why pretend he was okay if he would shut Chan down the second he stepped outside Korea?
Didn’t he deserve some explanation? Shouldn’t his side of things also be taken into consideration?
Was he asking for too much? He didn’t think so.
He opened his eyes, only then realizing they were closed, and looked at Minho through his side mirror. He was still in the same position, but he wasn’t crying, which made Chan feel a little better. Minho’s hair was moving with the wind, and he was probably cold already, even if the sun was a little hotter today.
A ping from his phone caught his attention — a text from Felix. Chan didn’t open it, he didn’t have to. He knew what Felix would be asking, and reasonably so. Even though the ceremony would only happen in two days, Minho and Chan were the only ones who had not yet arrived.
Chan scratched his head a little more aggressively than needed and opened the door of his car. The road was almost empty and the only thing he could hear was the wind blowing and the steps of his shoes on the asphalt. He walked toward Minho and leaned against the car beside him.
He waited. Even though he wanted to talk, wanted to apologize, wanted a thousand answers — he waited. He’d had his chance in the car, and he blew it. So now he waited, like he was used to doing now.
Minho finally sighed and stood up. Chan expected him to return to the car silently, but he didn’t. He stayed there, hugging himself, staring ahead.
“Of course I missed you, Chan,” he said. “I know I… I didn’t make the best choices. But I didn’t know how to deal with everything, and I couldn’t let you know that or you wouldn’t go.”
Chan remembered how Minho used to say that love was a double-edged sword. One of the edges was about being seen and cared for. He never told Chan what the other one was, but hearing him now made Chan understand what he meant.
“The day you left, I turned my back because I couldn't watch you go. I thought it would hurt me less not seeing you go through that door. I know it was only two years but a lot happens in two years and…” He sighed, pausing for a few seconds before he could keep going. “When I got back home, I told myself I needed to get you out of my life, because only that way could I keep living the life I was supposed to live. And I know it wasn’t fair, and I’m really sorry for that. But I had to prioritize myself at that moment.”
Minho pulled away from the car, took a few steps and then turned to finally face Chan. His eyes were dry of tears, but full of emotion, putting everything there for Chan to read. And Chan could read — he could read Minho perfectly, like they were still the same people they were three years ago. Like Chan had never left, like Minho had never turned away.
Minho was hurting, constantly, because he knew from the beginning what the other edge was. He knew love is being seen and cared for, but he also knew that love is also responsibility, and fault, and maturity, and choices. He knew love sometimes would mean choosing to hurt yourself to avoid hurting the one you love.
“It didn’t work, Chan. I went on with my life, but I wasn’t living it. I was just… surviving. I had everything I dreamed of, but I…” He looked down, ashamed. “I didn’t have you.”
“You always had me,” Chan’s heart said it before his brain. Minho looked up, reading the truth in Chan’s eyes.
Chan reached out for Minho’s hand, carefully, so as not to scare him. The moment their hands touched, Minho grabbed his hand, squeezing it, and Chan was pretty sure the world stopped for a few seconds. Minho’s hand was still so small and so soft, the kitten paws, like Chan liked to call them.
“I’m sorry about what I said in the car. Everything I’ve been bottling up all this time, I spilled on you, and that wasn’t fair. I, too, made my choice. We both did. We don’t have to hurt ourselves and each other anymore.”
Minho nodded but stayed silent. Chan had no idea how long they were standing outside, and while he knew they had to go back on the road, he didn’t feel like letting go of Minho’s hand. Not now or ever.
“I was there,” Minho said suddenly. “At the airport, I mean. The day you came back.” Chan’s heart shattered and glued itself back together at the same time. “I didn’t tell anyone. I saw when you arrived and hugged everyone. I was just so jealous, I wanted to run to you and hug you again.”
Chan thought about the hug they shared just a few hours ago. How close Minho held him, and how tightly. It comforted him to know that Minho waited for that moment as much as Chan did, but he also couldn’t help but wonder why Minho didn’t show himself.
“I was embarrassed,” Minho admitted, as if reading Chan’s mind. “I thought it was unfair for me to show up after all the ghosting I did.”
Chan gently pulled Minho closer. “I can see why you did it. I probably would’ve done the same.” He raised his free hand to touch Minho’s face, and he felt his eyes getting watery when Minho leaned into it. “But I would’ve been the happiest man alive if I saw you there. Almost as happy as I am now, having you this close to me again.”
“Chan — ”
“I love you, Minho,” he said fearlessly. “I think I've loved you from the first time I saw you. I was far away, I struggled, I was hurt, I was confused. I wanted to get back to Korea; then I wanted to never get back again. I wanted to hear your voice, and sometimes I wanted to shut you out like… like you did to me.” Chan felt a knot in his throat, but he swallowed it and managed to keep talking. “But these moments, when I resented you, they never lasted. Because every night, before falling asleep, I would see your face and hear your laugh, and my heart would yearn for you again and again and again.” Minho blinked slowly, breathing hard, but didn’t interrupt. “And I know we can’t… we can’t restart from where we left, but we can start a new story together. If… if that’s something you want too, of course. I just— I don’t know, I… I’m not pressuring you or anything, I just want to be with you again, ’cause I miss you so much and I still love you and—”
“Chan.” Minho said, making Chan stop his rambling.
Chan took a deep breath, calming down and slowly regaining his senses. The sun wasn’t much hotter now, and the breeze was getting a little more chill. How long had they been out there?
He didn’t manage to wander for long, because suddenly Minho was getting closer to him, cupping his face with the softest touch, before kissing him so delicately.
Chan held his waist, moving so slowly, like any sudden movement could ruin that moment. They both sighed into the kiss and Chan knew Minho was feeling the same as him, that he waited for this moment too. The wind blew, and Chan was not sure if he was getting goosebumps from the air or from the feeling of finally breathing lightly again.
Minho moved his hand, wrapping his arms around Chan’s neck. Chan pulled him closer by the waist. Their kiss got a little more heated, with both of them opening their mouths and using their tongues to taste each other again and oh, Minho tasted so good, their kiss tasted so good. It tasted like three years of unsent messages and swallowed apologies. Like finally having what they’d been aching for. It tasted like a pure and overwhelming relief of finally being in the right place again.
“I love you. I love you so much,” Minho said after they had to stop to breathe real air and not each other. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think I will ever stop being sorry for letting you go like this.” And Chan understood exactly what he meant.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. We’re here. We’re gonna make it work again.”
Minho nodded and kissed him again, but the moment was cut short by his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans.
“It’s Yongbokie,” he said, before accepting the call. “Hey. Yeah, we — I know. We had to stop for a bit, the… the car was making weird noises. No, no need. It's solved. Yeah. I’m fine. I promise. Yeah. Don’t worry, we will be there as soon as possible. I will still convince you not to marry the Dog. Ok, sorry. I will still convince you not to marry the soon-to-be Lee Dog. Ok. Love you too, bye.”
Chan smiled at him. He practically knew the whole conversation just from Minho’s side. Minho still felt like explaining.
“Yongbokie is tracking us, as always. He got worried, we need to go.”
Chan gave Minho just one more quick kiss before letting him go so they could get back into the car.
Once inside, they buckled up, and Chan almost teared up when Minho took off his shoes and lifted his leg on the seat. It felt like déjà vu, but better, because now they had a chance to make right what they’d done wrong and leave space for new mistakes.
“I’m gonna marry the hell out of you, Min,” Chan said, making Minho look at him. His face flashing fear, confusion and happiness in half a second.
“I’m still stuck with my ‘not planning anything for the future’ motto,” Minho said softly, “but I will open an exception for this one.”
“Good,” Chan said, trying not to hurt his face from the biggest smile he had.
He started the car and Minho turned the radio on. “Let’s just not tell anyone yet. I don’t wanna steal the spotlight from Yongbok’s wedding or Seungmin will ruin ours too.”
Chan laughed. “I will try, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to not touch you for the whole weekend.”
“You will. This is not our first rodeo,” Minho said, putting his hand affectionately on Chan’s thigh. “Besides, we already know all the hidden spots in Changbin's house.”
“Worst case scenario, we can always come back to the car.”
“True,” Minho said, smiling as he looked at him. “The car is kinda our thing, don’t you think?”