Work Text:
11 PM. they're sitting at an all-night diner on the second storey of a building, occupying seats overlooking the cityscape.
wonwoo pushes his plate of finished cheeseburger away and sets his book down. "hey. you're quiet tonight. did something happen?"
mingyu plays with his coffee cup. "just. i passed someone on the street in hongdae yesterday," he says, eyes lost in thought, watching his fingertip dance around the cup's rim.
"and?"
"and he was...perfect. 100% perfect."
"what makes you say that?"
"that's the thing. i'm not sure how to make you understand."
"well what was it about him that was perfect?"
"to tell you the truth, there wasn't anything really striking about his appearance. his eyes were sharp, he had these floppy ears, had a button nose, and the rest of his face he covered with a mask."
wonwoo takes a sip of his too-cold coffee and winces before replying. "he looked like your favorite type then?"
"he was tall and lanky, but in an endearing way. his clothes were a bit bulky on him and his hair was dyed purple? at least that's what it looked like from his fringe peeking out of his cap. i haven't ever really thought about my type but i don't think that's it either."
"huh."
"huh." mingyu agreed.
wonwoo nods, "what is essential is invisible to the eye."
for some reason, those words ring in his ears.
"wait hold on, where did you hear that?" mingyu asks, almost desperate.
"it's from 'the little prince', silly" wonwoo replies with an amused smile.
"oh," mingyu settles back down. "ok."
they stay quiet for a while, wonwoo toying with the pages of his book and mingyu resting his cheek on his hand, watching cars drive by.
"so did you talk to him?"
"i didn't get to. like i said, we just passed each other on the sidewalk. i wish i got to, though." he paused, thinking it over.
"i would talk to him about anything. anything he'd be willing to listen to. i'd ask him about his favorite games or music or books. i'd tell him about my pets, ask him about his too. after that, we'd have gone to a cafe or seen a movie. we might have hit it off really well but at the same time we might have not. i'm still just thinking about what his voice would sound like."
"then why didn't you? talk to him, i mean."
"what would i have said? 'hi i'm mingyu, i just wanted you to know that you might just be the 100% perfect boy for me?' it might have just sounded too creepy. or, 'hey do you know any cafe's around here?' i don't think any meaningful conversation would have come from that, and i'd just have to leave anyway."
wonwoo snickers, "wow you've really thought about this."
mingyu nods, "i have."
"tell me something, gyu," wonwoo faces him properly. "if, by any chance, you got to approach this person, what would you be expecting out of it?"
"nothing, really. i just want to see him again. tell him a story, maybe."
"and what story would that be?"
mingyu grins and chuckles to himself. "something really cheesy. perhaps a story that begins with 'once upon a time'"
then, like a flower wilting, his grin melts and his face falls slowly.
"but then the story would turn sad, wouldn’t it? as they all do. might just end with 'a sad story, don't you think?'”
once upon a time there were two boys. both of them knew how rewarding it was to believe in miracles. somewhere out there was the 100% perfect person for them, and to find each other, well, that was a miracle.
they met once, back in their childhood. it was christmas season, and mingyu’s family decided to take a trip to hong kong for the holidays.
he and his family walk around the illuminated streets, occasionally stopping to look inside the tiny shops or buy street food. it isn’t long before mingyu gets bored and sleepy, complaining that they’ve walked around enough and can they please go back to the hotel already?
“eomma, i’m tired,” he whines. his mother shushes him and tells him to wait.
they reach a clearing with park benches and his mom tells him to sit down and wait for them while they make their last rounds in the shops.
a boy about his age is sitting beside him on the same bench, clad in an adidas tracksuit with a book in his lap. he had sharp eyes and spiky hair that was quite long at the back.
the boy looks up at him, and he gets caught staring. for some reason, instead of looking away, he smiles at the boy and says, “hello.”
the boy’s eyes widen. he sheepishly returns his smile and bows his head, mumbling a hello back.
mingyu gestures to himself. “i’m mingyu.”
“mingyu,” the boy repeats, smiling. he mimics the action, pointing to himself, “minghao.”
“how do you do-” mingyu catches himself, remembering that he was in a foreign place. “uh, do you know how to speak korean?” he asks.
minghao nods and raises a hand, gesturing that he only knew a little bit. mingyu smiles a toothy grin.
“are you from here?”
minghao shakes his head, “i’m from liaoning in the mainland. i came here to watch the fireworks on new years.”
“me too! i heard the fireworks in disneyland are great,” mingyu says excitedly. he points to the book on minghao's lap. “what’s that?”
“it’s called ‘the little prince.’ have you heard of it?” minghao replies with a smile.
mingyu shakes his head no.
“it’s my favorite story.” minghao opens the book to show him. “it’s in mandarin but see, there are pictures and i can explain what’s happening anyway.”
they sit closer and minghao places the book on top of their laps. he tells the story slowly, pointing to the illustrations and explaining them to mingyu. his korean was quite slow and sometimes he struggled, but mingyu was helpful in suggesting words, and minghao’s eyes would light up every time he learned something new.
eventually they got to the end of the story and were in the middle of discussing it when someone calls minghao over.
“haohao!” he hears them say from a distance. the voice says something in mandarin that mingyu couldn’t understand and minghao shouts back with something that sounds like an affirmative.
“i have to leave now,” minghao says, making a move to stand up and waving quickly to mingyu.
mingyu’s eyes widen and he catches minghao’s arm before he runs over to his family. “wait! how can we keep in touch? will we ever see each other again?”
minghao thinks for a second. “ah! quick, give me your home number, i’ll write to you.”
“i-i,” he looks down, a frustrated tear slipping down his cheek. “i don’t know my home number.”
"hey, don’t cry," minghao rubs his back. "think of it as a game," he suggests. "if we're really meant to be friends, we'll find each other, no matter where in the world we are. do you agree?"
mingyu hesitates. he wasn't ready for the possibility of losing a new friend to a game, but he thinks he can trust minghao. most especially when minghao’s put a lot of trust in him as well. it might take a miracle for it to happen, but he’s always believed in those anyway.
“do you really believe it, minghao?” he asks. minghao smiles.
“i believe in infinite possibilities.”
one autumn night in hongdae, this miracle comes true. these two boys cross paths with each other once again on the street, mingyu going towards the east, and minghao to the west. recognition sparks in both of their eyes, but it’s far too faint now to inspire any kind of action; weak from years of neglecting the memory of their time together. it had been ten years, after all.
without a word, they pass each other, mingyu to the east and minghao to the west, and disappear into the crowd forever.
a sad story, don’t you think?
“yeah, that’s it. that’s the story i would have told him.”