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There weren’t many things that irked Minho. No, he was fairly comfortable with most things in his life and preferred to go with the flow, surfing metaphorical waves of time as it passed and accepting whatever fish tried to jump onto his board. Or something along the lines of that. Chan had yet to take him surfing, and thus, Minho had only his colorful imagination to back up his meager knowledge of riding the ocean’s waves.
In short, Minho was content with his life as it was.
Minho was adaptable, changing to whatever life decided to offer him, and he wasn’t someone who voiced it when he was annoyed. If he did, things in his life would probably have been vastly different from what they were, and he would be much poorer in treasured experiences.
He would also be one whole boyfriend short, no matter what Chan might try to claim. Had Minho not spotted the absolutely perfect ball Chan was, hurtling past him and caught it, well, Chan too would be one perfect boyfriend poorer.
God knew Chan wouldn’t have made the first move, no matter what he might try to claim. He was about as timid as a hummingbird, and Minho just so happened to be drawn to his tune and willing to settle on the same branch as Chan.
Minho was satisfied with his life.
However, that didn’t mean Minho wasn’t swallowing words of protest every now and then, biting the inside of his cheek to ask if it really was necessary for Chan to attend yet another fashion event overseas. Sure, they both did their jobs well and enjoyed it, but Minho was starting to get tired of the entire world wanting a piece of his boyfriend when Minho was at home, starving and cold.
Still, he had waved Chan goodbye from their front door, gagging at the kiss Chan had blown his way, only to snatch it out of the air the moment his back had turned on Minho. If Chan found out how whipped Minho truly was about his cute side, Minho wouldn’t hear the end of it.
Chan deserved these experiences, and he deserved to be recognized as much as the next handsome man. Minho simply didn’t think it needed to happen as often as it did. Or, well, he did because he wished for Chan to be successful, he just…
“I miss him,” Minho sighed pitifully, blinking blearily at Soonie sleeping on the pillow that was usually occupied by Chan’s head. Even with three cats, their bed was too big without Chan’s wide shoulders. “He’ll complain about this, you know that, right? About all that fur on his pillow,” he added in a soft voice and reached over to brush his hand down Soonie’s back. “He’s a clean freak.”
Chan would huff, use a dust roller on the pillow before changing the cover, getting all weird and obsessed about it, and five minutes later, he would be the one making kissy noises at the cats, trying to get them to sleep on his side of the bed instead of on Minho’s.
God, Minho loved his odd, weird boyfriend. Life was too quiet without him there to listen to Minho yell about all the minor inconveniences he encountered during the day. Like how he had found a piece of shell in his home-cooked shrimp, which he had peeled himself for dinner last night. Only Dori had been present for Minho to whine about that shell fragment.
“Two more days and he’ll be home,” Minho reminded himself in the darkness of early morning.
He inhaled deeply, the scent of Chan’s cologne no longer lingering in the air. He had sprayed it around the room a couple of days earlier in an attempt to ease the homesickness Chan had left him with, but, as with everything good in life, it had left. It wouldn’t do for him to repeat it too often, or else Chan would figure out that someone was using his expensive products to make their apartment smell more like him when he wasn’t home.
Minho wouldn’t be able to live that down.
Chan was chatty, and worse yet, he was a softie. If he discovered Minho was withering away in loneliness, it would go straight to his head, and before Minho could count to ten, Chan would have bragged about it to Changbin or Felix, and then everyone would know Minho was weak for his boyfriend.
As it was now, they only suspected he was whipped, which Minho could live with.
Really, it would be too embarrassing to yearn that much for a man who usually slept right by his side on most days. It was just that on the days when he wasn’t right by Minho’s side, Minho missed him so much it hurt him right to his very core. If he weren’t of sound mind, Minho would have started to fear that the reason behind this high level of yearning was that, in a previous life, he had been longing after Chan for 800 years.
If that was the cause of it all, Minho would find it extremely heartbreaking.
Fortunately, Minho was sane, and therefore such a reason should be discarded.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sighed upon realizing he had gotten into bed on Chan’s side and that his slippers had been abandoned there. With a groan, he drew his legs back up and rolled onto the other side, careful not to disrupt Soonie, who was now fully asleep, and stuck his feet into the slippers that were adorned with bunny ears.
A gift from Chan, of course. Minho loved them, though he would never, ever admit that out loud.
He dragged his feet all the way to the bathroom and got ready, half-bemoaning the fact that he didn’t have to chide Chan for using all the hot water. Distance made the heart grow fonder, except in Minho’s case, it made him into a pathetic mess. He didn’t bother washing his face since his camera’s quality wouldn’t capture the sorry state of his visage.
He did, however, brush his teeth because hygiene!
And he might have sniffed Chan’s cologne again. Just a little.
After 10 minutes, Minho plumped down on the floor of their living room, settling up against the couch with the drawn curtains as his background, knowing it would make his dark hair look nicer. He unlocked his phone and waited.
He stared at the large numbers atop his screen, waiting for them to turn from 5:58 to 6:00. Minho had tried to waste as much time as possible so he wouldn’t have to wait too long, and in all actuality, this was a near damn perfect amount of time to wait for Chan to call him.
Minho barely blinked in those 2 minutes, waiting and waiting for time to pass a little faster so he could finally get to see Chan’s face, even though they were oceans apart. He was swaying from side to side, restless with anticipation, hugging his knees.
God, he missed Chan.
Minho’s heart skipped a beat, almost jumping right out of his throat the moment his screen flashed and Chan’s silly icon popped up with an incoming video call. Minho pressed ‘accept’ quickly, his fingers trembling and his body simmering with excitement.
It took what felt like eons for the screen to load, and when it did, Minho was struck breathless.
Chan looked handsome. Of course, he did. Having spent most of his life in the limelight, he had grown accustomed to always looking his best to a point where it had become who he was: flawless, stunning, perfect Bang Chan.
His hair was styled prettily, his choppy blond cut having grown a little longer, fashionable black roots peeking out at his scalp, enhancing the bright contrast between the two colors. His bangs were pushed out of his face, leaving his round eyes free of obstructions. A dark and thin line ran over his lids, smoothed out at the edges to give him an alluring aura that was only made miles more enchanting with the sky tint of red on his lips.
The foundation did a formidable job at masking the bags under his eyes, but the exhaustion was clearly written on his features. And yet, Minho thought he looked nothing short of extraordinary.
“Good morning,” Chan said, his voice traveling through the speaker of the phone. It hit Minho like a truck, rendering him speechless for a second and a half, where he blinked at Chan as if he were a mirage. “Did you sleep well?”
“Uh-huh,” Minho mustered to get out, his throat tight and his mind light as a feather. Chan truly was a stunning man whom Minho still wondered how he had managed to bag, given all his antics and faux-disgust at any romantic gesture. “I took three melatonin before bed yesterday,” he decided to divulge for no particular reason. “Slept like a rock.”
“The prettiest rock,” Chan replied without missing a beat. “My beautiful amethyst.”
“That’s not a rock,” Minho corrected him, Jisung’s brief obsession with geology keeping him up to date with such categories. “It’s a mineral, but also, why amethyst?”
“Cause it’s purple, and I like purple,” Chan said, a carefree smile playing on his lips. Fuck, he was so stupidly charming even through a screen. “Purple reminds me of you.”
“Oh?” Minho was taken aback, a flash of warmth spreading across his face. “Because I had purple hair at one point?”
“Hmm, when we started dating, your hair was purple,” Chan told him, and Minho’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest. “My pretty amethyst,” he sang, beaming at Minho, his expression all besotted and sweet.
He missed him so much that even stating basic facts was enough to make him feel all weak and fluttery inside.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Minho played it off smoothly, his feet wiggling as he kept the rest of himself still. “And your hair was black, hence why I think of you as a lump of coal.”
Chan burst out laughing, his eyes turning into slim crescents and his lips spreading into a wide grin.
“Isn’t it supposed to be daytime where you are?” Minho suddenly noticed how dark the car Chan was in, recalling that they had decided to call at this specific time because Chan was usually on his way home from afternoon events at 5 pm, and Minho usually woke up around 6 am.
Chan made a questioning sound.
“It’s dark,” Minho offered as an explanation. “And why are you so neatly dressed? The show was yesterday,” he added, a little confused.
Chan had been at the show the day before. Minho had seen all the pictures. He had been supposed to stay a day longer for some elbow rubbing and some pictures with the brand, meaning Minho had been wasting away for much longer than he really needed.
“Oh,” Chan said and glanced around himself as if he had forgotten something. “Tinted windows,” he replied after a short moment, and Minho nodded. “And the shoot dragged out. I didn’t have time to change into something more comfortable. I’ll try to change on the plane.”
It made sense for him to be in a car with tinted windows, and Chan was so hardworking that Minho knew he wouldn’t complain about being delayed. Still, he looked really rumpled, and Minho wondered if he would have to buy another magazine and shamefully hide it, so he could stare at his boyfriend, all glamorized and debauched on the glossy pages.
“How was your day?” Minho asked, wetting his lips, and blinked at Chan through the screen. He hugged his knees tight to his chest, hugging them now that Chan was so far away. “Met any cute cats on your way?”
“Sadly, not, no,” Chan said and rubbed the corner of his eye, the eyeshadow getting smudged even more than it already was. He truthfully looked like he had been up the whole night. “And considering all the screaming fans, I don’t even think there were any hiding in the bushes.”
“Boo,” Minho lamented, struggling not to coo at how adorable Chan was. He wanted him back home, in his bed. What was the point of Minho having the rest of the week off when it would be another 18 hours or more before he could be with his boyfriend? “You still owe me a picture of a cat since you forgot to take one of that tabby you met in Italy.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Chan said, smiling softly. At least Minho knew Chan would always find him adorable no matter what. “Don’t worry about it. You will get your tabby tax one way or another. Worst case, we’ll go to a cat cafe the next time we’re off at the same time together.”
“Good, good,” Minho said, pleased that Chan was thinking of dates even when he was tired from work and probably just wanted to go home to the hotel and crash. “Was the collection at least nice? And how about the after party?” Minho asked, his cheek on his knee as he stared at the image of his lover on the phone.
Chan sighed, shaking his head as he told all about the day before, quickly turning the conversation back to Minho and his day off. As usual, Chan wanted to talk more about Minho than about himself, seemingly finding Minho and his day with the cats endlessly fascinating, rebuffing any questions Minho might have about his trip and the fashion event. They talked some more about everything and nothing until they eventually had to hang up because Chan’s car had reached its destination.
The car looked a little lighter, and Minho wondered what kind of bright light the airport had to have to light up even through tinted windows.
“See you soon,” Chan said and puckered his lips as if he were about to plant a kiss right on the camera. He didn’t, thankfully, because of hygiene and all that, though Minho mourned the lack of the smooch his mind had half tricked him into thinking was really coming right his way. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Minho replied, close to tears. His stomach churned as he made to press down on the red button, but he still pulled through, terminating the call before Chan could declare his love to him again and truthfully bring tears to Minho’s eyes.
God, he missed to the point where it was pathetic.
He exhaled, a tremble going through his body, and carefully placed the phone onto the ground. He stared at it, wishing it had the ability to bring Chan home to him quicker. He had been asked a hundred times in stupid interviews what kind of superpower he had, but never once had Minho thought about how convenient teleportation would be. He couldn’t help but imagine how amazing it would be if he could close his eyes and have Chan transported right to their front door.
Now, Minho unfortunately didn’t have that ability. All he could do was wrap his arms around his knees and bury his face, willing the tears to disappear. With the extreme willpower he possessed, he succeeded, a veteran at swallowing down ounces upon ounces of longing, the stinging of unshed tears lingering in his eyes for a couple more moments.
Minho was about to get up and get ready for the day, knowing that sitting around and waiting for Chan to get home would be useless given he was still across the Pacific and the whole of North America, when the doorbell rang. His brows furrowed, wondering if he had managed to place an order for takeout in his sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time, and therefore, he didn’t even hesitate unlocking the door and swinging it open, his mind coming to a screeching halt.
There, right on the doorstep of their shared apartment, was none other than Chan.
He looked just like he had on the phone, his face still in full makeup, tired, worn and a little disheveled, and the outfit he wore didn’t resemble any Minho had ever seen him in ever. His mind ran in circles, coming to the conclusion that it must be part of the new collection he had gone to New York to see. Minho blinked at him, eyelids flickering rapidly. He glanced down, and sure enough, there was the suitcase Chan had brought with him to the airport a couple of days earlier.
“You’re here?” Minho stuttered, looking between Chan, the suitcase, and the front door. “You’re here?!”
Minho wasted no time flinging himself into Chan’s embrace, his arms swung tightly around Chan’s neck as he melted into him. He smelled of airport and a little bit of sweat under the remnants of his cologne, but nothing had ever smelled better in Minho’s opinion. There was a tint of vanilla as well, Chan’s favorite perfume lingering on his skin as Minho buried his face into the crook of his neck.
“You’re really here,” Minho said, his words muffled against Chan. “How are you here?”
“I took an earlier flight the moment the show was over and declined the after party,” He answered, holding Minho just as close as Minho clung to him. “I begged the company to make it a short trip, and got it all done in one day. All the interviews were after the show, the photoshoot was in the morning before the show, and then I just jumped in the car and went straight to the airport.”
“But networking-”
“I’ve worked enough nets to afford myself a little bit of luxury coming back home to my boyfriend earlier than expected,” Chan cut him off and drew back a little, capturing Minho’s eyes for a split second before surging in and connecting their lips in a welcoming and loving kiss. “It’s good to be back.”
Minho hummed against his lips, barely giving Chan enough space to speak before he connected them again.
Their kiss all but spelled out what Minho felt and how much he had longed for Chan in the days they had been apart.
People showing up earlier than scheduled might irk him on any normal day, but he would never complain about Chan being back home with him.