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wonwoo awakens in his room, dark, cold, the spot beside him empty, but the sheets are crinkled and the covers have been kicked- no, laid gently on top of him. despite the double layer, the chill manages to pierce its way through his skin, and he shivers.
“mingyu?” he calls.
“hey,” he replies, “i’m just going to work.”
“what- time is it?” wonwoo rubs his eyes, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. it's hardly five in the morning.
“they need me at the hospital. one of my patients’ blood pressure just plummeted. i have to see to it,” mingyu smiles. the same smile wonwoo’s seen on his face when the stray kitten pawing at wonwoo’s shoes was ultimately left behind at the park.
“when will you be back?”
“same time as usual, don’t worry.”
“mingyu.”
“hm?”
“we’ve done this before, haven’t we?”
“darling, it’s time for you to wake up.”
wonwoo awakens in his room, bright, warm, the spot beside him occupied by a mountain of tanned skin, kissed gently by the sunlight beaming through the window.
“good morning beautiful,” mingyu says.
a smile, one that wonwoo’s seen when mingyu turns to him in the middle of a movie in the theatre, finding the tickets they bought utterly useless in favour of an activity he could easily do at any moment they’re at home.
“mingyu?”
“coffee? or tea this time?”
wonwoo jolts up, suddenly, sitting upright on his side of the bed now, the figure next to him a complete mystery. mingyu. next to him. but…how? didn’t he-
“we don’t have anymore butterfly pea, but i could-”
“mingyu…” wonwoo breathes in, unable to say much more.
how is he here?
that’s impossible.
he shouldn’t be here.
he should be-
mingyu finally turns to look back at him, silent. not a smile, not a frown, but the face he made when they were at wonwoo’s parents’ house, sitting around the dining table-
“wonwoo, is that not your second slice? save some for the others, will you?”
wonwoo awakens, sitting upright on the hard mahogany chairs of his parents’ dining room. in his hand, a pie server, with a slice of red velvet cake on it, layered with cream cheese and nougats mixed into it.
wonwoo sets the slice down, back onto the table, where the rest of the slices are.
god, he knew he shouldn’t have come. it was a mistake. it’s always a mistake. there’s no point. why is he here again? he’s a grown adult by now, and he gets to make his own choices. why the hell is he making choices that don’t seem to ever do him any good-
there’s a hand on his. warm, soft, like the blankets mingyu always sets upon his sleeping figure during the hours of the morning where mingyu has to leave before wonwoo even takes his first blink of the day. a shiny, golden band hugs its fourth finger like a key to its lock, as though it is now where it has always meant to be.
he looks at mingyu, who smiles, and mouths:
“it’s going to be okay.”
wonwoo attempts to look back down at the hand laying on top of his, to find that it’s his own. underneath, a tiny gray kitten, fiddling with the laces of his boots.
“please?” wonwoo pleads, looking up at mingyu with the best puppy eyes he can muster.
mingyu smiles. the kitten smile. “we can’t, won. we’re both out for long hours at the hospital. especially me. especially you, on a bad day.”
wonwoo sighs, rising to his feet. the kitten continues swatting its little paws at the bunny ear loops. where would it go? where is its mother? does it even have one? a home? where does it go, when the sun dips under the horizon?
“it’s going to be okay,” mingyu echoes.
“is it?”
“honey, i’m sure it’s mother is somewhere around here, just waiting to pounce at us for even getting this close to her child.”
”you’re right,” wonwoo frowns. “it’s much too young for us to bring home too.”
“it’ll be alright. you’ll be alright.”
in the distance, he hears a familiar tune.
his phone.
his ringtone.
where is that coming from?
where is his phone?
where is h-
wonwoo awakens in his room, dark, cold, the spot beside him empty, but the sheets are crinkled and the covers have been kicked to the foot of the bed. no second layer on top of him. no mingyu.
work, perhaps. but there’s a force of impeccable magnitude that pulls wonwoo towards the door.
the comfort of his sheets glide against his legs as he places his soles, one by one, on top of the wooden floor. mingyu’s at work, but…perhaps wonwoo will find him in the house, somewhere, making wonwoos tea and a cup of coffee for himself.
he pushes the door open, and it’s still dark outside, but mingyu is in the kitchen, the smell of roasted coffee beans waft through the air. a glass of deep blue tinted tea sits on the kitchen island, still steaming, with a teaspoon peeking out of the surface.
“mingyu?” he calls.
mingyu turns around. “oh honey, you’re up. i made your tea.”
“thanks,” wonwoo takes a sip. “god, it’s always better when you make it.”
“i make it with love.” mingyu emphasizes, earning an eye roll from wonwoo. “wanna drink this on the porch? i don’t have to be there in another half hour. apparently seokmin came in early today.”
“oh…sure.”
soon, they find themselves together on the porch. the sun has barely risen, the sky a dark blue, just a hint of the clouds drifting far up above.
mingyu starts. “i was thinking.”
“yeah?”
“let’s get out of here,” he says, optimism rushing through his veins and out through his mouth. “you and me. we can start somewhere else.”
“what? where?”
“paris,” mingyu grins, the one wonwoo knows means that mingyu has a wicked idea brewing in that brilliant head of his. “we don’t even need to do placements.”
“mingyu, you’re mad.”
“i’m serious! think about it,” mingyu sighs, “we could…we could do so much. just us. just us, and the world.”
“and patients calling for us left and right at all hours of the day.”
mingyu snorts, “ever the realist between the two of us.”
they sit in silence for a moment, taking it in.
leaving. paris. a new life, for the both of them, away from a place where there are skeletons waiting at every corner and bend they encounter.
it’s a fine idea, wonwoo must admit at least that much to himself. why would he have married mingyu if not for his razor sharp wit and perfect synchronization with his own mind?
but then, all of a sudden.
his phone rings, shrill. it’s echoes bounce off the walls of the house, pounding down on his membrane.
"you should get that," mingyu says.
he should.
he knows.
and so wonwoo does.
he picks up. “jeon wonwoo.”
“yes, he’s my husband.”
“...i- i see.”
“okay.”
“i understand.”
“thank you.”
the phone clicks off.
he turns to the front door, slowly, still ajar. its hand outstretched, almost beckoning, just waiting to take wonwoo back into the night. on the porch.
him, and his love, tonight.
mingyu, on his porch. tonight.
he takes a step towards the door, and another, and another.
there, still sitting on the steps is mingyu, illuminated by only the yellow light above their heads. he does not turn to face wonwoo, he does not say anything, he does not move. wonwoo takes a seat next to him.
“we could leave, you know? we don’t have to be so close to your parents.”
“oh, god, mingyu. what would i do in paris, of all places?”
“eat- croissants, wonwoo! drink wine. see the louvre, the eiffel tower!” wonwoo thinks mingyu is like a little kid, especially in times like these, talking about the impossible. the dreams. the yearning.
“mingyu…”
mingyu’s smile fades. “i know.”
wonwoo shakes his head, just a distraction so he doesn’t have to feel the tears climbing out of his ducts. “we can’t”
“i know, my love.”
“where have you gone?”
“wherever you’d like.”
“paris?”
mingyu nods, the family dinner smile on his face. “paris, if you’d like.”
“i can’t come with you. you’ve gone where i can’t follow.”
“not gone, darling,” mingyu says, “just…in paris.”
“let me come with.”
mingyu glances ahead, their car, sitting idly in the driveway. “i have to go.”
he begins to stand, setting his cup of coffee on the highest step.
“no, please…”
”mingyu, i’ll come with.”
”please, wait!”
”wait, please i-”
his phone rings, shrill. it’s echoes bounce off the walls of the house, pounding down on his membrane.
"you should get that," mingyu says.
he should.
he knows.
and so wonwoo does.
he picks up. “jeon wonwoo.”
“yes, he’s my husband.”
“...i- i see.”
“okay.”
“i understand.”
“thank you.”
the phone clicks off.
he turns to the front door, slowly, still ajar. its hand outstretched, almost beckoning, just waiting to take wonwoo back into the night. on the porch.
him, and his love, tonight.
mingyu, on his porch. tonight.
he takes a step towards the door, and another, and another.
he begs, quietly.
just one more night. one more look. one more conversation.
one more smile, from you. and i’ll let you go.
wonwoo steps onto the porch. there, still sitting on the steps is mingyu, illuminated by only the yellow light above their heads. he does not turn to face wonwoo, he does not say anything, he does not move. wonwoo takes a seat next to him.
“we could leave, you know? we don’t have to be so close to your parents.”
“to paris.”
mingyu nods. “to paris.”
“you’re there already.”
mingyu nods. “i am.”
“and i…i’m still here.”
wonwoo wonders, what must paris be like? is it what everyone seems to say it is? is it the destination spot everyone’s raving about and hyping up online? is it bright? noisy? is it warm? cold? are the streets really littered with trash and the pungent urine left behind by the unfortunate?
what about the asphalt? the night? the shards of windshield glass underneath the fabric of mingyus clothes and wedged in between the skin on his forehead? the steering wheel on his cheek? the leather seats underneath his thighs?
“you’re not coming back,” wonwoo whispers, finally succumbing to the tears.
“i’m not.”
“will i see you again?”
the dinner party smile. “come find me, darling. please. it's always better with you around.”
and this whole time, wonwoo’s always thought it was a pity smile.
he realizes, now, mingyu has smiled like that in every moment he truly loved wonwoo.
on a quiet, early morning in the suburbs, just as the sun begins to grace the earth with its rays, two glasses lay untouched on the front porch of wonwoo and mingyus house, still steaming in the cool autumn air. one, with coffee, and another, with butterfly pea flower tea.
if you looked close enough, you can almost see the smoke from each cup intertwining with one another, and two loving hands with their pinkies linked, and matching gold bands on their ring fingers.