didn't want to escape (from the bricks that I laid down) → for EVERYONE (2/2)
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May 18, 2019 - Saturday
When Minseok opens the door, he can't quite stop himself from gaping at his date for the night. He's seen Yixing in a suit, seen him in ass-hugging jeans and a distinctive lack of a shirt, but nothing, none of his mental preparation, had prepared him for the live version of Yixing in full Dress Blues.
"Good evening," Yixing greets, his eyes roaming up and down as they drink Minseok in. Minseok knows he looks good (he's not blind to stares from passerby's through the windows of the tailor shop), but he knows he can't possibly look better than the Navy Captain standing strong in front of him.
"H-hi," Minseok stammers out. Yixing dimples.
"Do I look that good?" He teases, stepping inside. Minseok shuts the door, reaching for his coat and shoes.
"I've seen better," he recovers. Yixing laughs, pressing a kiss to Minseok's temple.
"Of course," he says. "But in this uniform? I think not." Minseok doesn't say anything, merely snorts even though internally he agrees wholeheartedly with the Captain's statement. He leans down, tying his shoes. He'd indulged himself this time, using some of his rather cushy bank account to buy Italian leather (Luhan had insisted).
He looks up, notices Yixing looking at him patiently. Minseok stands from his chair.
"This is the first time I've been in here," Yixing says, "I guess I expected more mess from an artist." Minseok shrugs. He'd gotten that comment many times before.
"I can't find my supplies if everything is a mess," he explains. "What if an idea gets away because I can't find the tool I need?"
Yixing nods. "So this is your studio then?" He starts to move toward the living room. A mirage of purple and blues and a broken moon flash across Minseok's field of vision, and he panics. He grabs onto Yixing's arm.
"Yes, it is," he says, steering the Captain the other way, back towards the door, "but don't go in there. Umm. I don't want your suit getting dirty?" The excuse is weak, but Yixing is nothing if not polite and unassuming towards Minseok.
"Shall we go then?" He offers. "You can give me a tour some other time."
Minseok smiles, grateful. "Sure," he agrees.
"So tell me what to expect at this banquet," he says, slipping his hand into Yixing's. The Captain launches into a rant about how boring the higher-ups really are and leads Minseok out the door to where the cab is waiting. He continues with his stories, Minseok laughing more than once at his sort of dazed way of story-telling, fitting in notes on etiquette and a short who's-who along th way.
When they pull into the hotel, Minseok's nerves have mostly settled, and the warmth of Yixing's hand on his back is enough to keep him from breaking out in cold sweat. The S.W.A.T. team standing around the hotel doors makes him send a wide-eyed stare in Yixing's direction, but the other soothes him, whispering that it's just precaution.
"Ah, Captain Zhang," says a deep voice of a tall man with a rather funny beard. His build and the decorated jacket make him seem the near archetypal military man.
"Sergeant Whiles," Yixing responds immediately, his hand coming up into a salute. The other man copies him, and Minseok feels a round of long introductions coming on. He shakes the Sergeant's hand.
"Mitchell Kim," he says, "It's an honor to meet you, sir." The man nods, his chin above Minseok's head.
"Likewise," he returns. Naturally, as Minseok could have expected, the night continues on like this for an hour or so, names and faces bleeding together under the yellow chandeliers and red carpets. He enjoys the dinner, eating carefully so as not to mess up his rented tux or get sauce smeared across his lips, but he still catches Yixing staring at him at one point. He colors.
"Do I have something on my face?" He asks, reaching for his napkin. Yixing grabs his hand and shakes his head.
"No," he says, "I just think you look radiant." Minseok preens from the praise. He continues his string of compliments, asking various army wives if his date is attractive and letting Minseok listen to them rave about him and rave about them. One of the ladies, an older woman with gray running through her brown hair and a few wrinkles around her blue eyes tells Minseok that she had tried to set Yixing up with her daughter, and upon hearing about his being gay, tried to set him up with her son!
"He's such a wonderful young man," she gushes, "You really got yourself a good one."
There were a few people who recognized Minseok, calling him Xiumin and asking for an autograph. Consistently, Minseok tries to refuse, but Yixing insists, his smile proud and touch comforting.
It's not until later, when Sergeant Whiles is giving a speech, that Yixing does anything especially exciting.
"Minseok," Yixing whispers, leaning over in his seat to breathe directly into Minseok's ear. The artist barely suppresses the shiver that runs down his spine. His body's near overreaction lets him know his alcohol limit is fast approaching. He sets down his flute of champagne.
"Yes?"
"You know I asked you here for one reason, right?" Yixing murmurs lowly. Minseok fights with his body's urge to shiver and lean against Yixing again.
"Oh?" He asks. He'd thought that this re-enactment of Esther was over. Yixing dimples as he reaches underneath the table cloth to take Minseok's hand in his.
"This is my endgame," Yixing promises, "Will you be my boyfriend?" Minseok lifts their entwined hands from his lap, pressing a kiss to the back of Yixing's hand. He looks at Yixing brightly, whispering back to him the words that have a few of the old ladies cheering him on from their nearby seats.
"Of course I will."
May 19, 2019 - Sunday
Minseok nearly falls asleep on Yixing's shoulder during the cab ride back, a quick glance at the Captain's watch revealing the time to be nearly two in the morning. Minseok had only wanted out of his rented tux and into his bed when Yixing pulled him from the cab, paying the driver, but he starts to wake up as they trek up the stairs.
The warmth of Yixing's arm and the faint hum of alcohol make Minseok brave, his body waking and buzzing to hold onto Yixing.
The Captain tells him a simple goodnight, the door open behind Minseok, pressing a kiss and a thank you to Minseok's lips. He makes to walk away, but Minseok grabs his arm and pulls him back.
"Won't you stay?"
Yixing is careful, leaning down the slightest bit to fit his mouth against Minseok's, tasting the champagne they'd drunk not long ago. Minseok grabs at the shoulders of Yixing's dress blues, sighing softly against his lips.
"Are you sure?" Yixing pulls back to ask, but it's unnecessary. Minseok may have consumed an extra glass of champagne, but he's wanted Yixing since their last date, and now he has him.
In uniform, no less.
He wants him out of it.
"Yes, Yixing," he says, "Yes."
The two of them fall together against Minseok's doorframe, their hands clutching at dinner jackets and dress blues. They stumble into Minseok's apartment, hands roaming, kicking the door closed behind them. Yixing backs Minseok up into the island, pressing their bodies together, attached at the mouth. Yixing's fingers work at the button of Minseok's coat, pushing it off his shoulders.
"I should," he says between kisses, "hang this." He moves on to suck marks into Minseok's neck.
"It's a rental," Minseok pants, pulling Yixing back up to kiss him, "Leave it." Yixing laughs, shrugging out of his own navy coat and attacking the buttons on Minseok's tux.
"Bedroom?" he asks against the skin he reveals with each button. Minseok grabs his hand.
"This way," he says. He leads Yixing there, attached at the mouths and accidentally bumping into the doorframe. They laugh, the both of them divesting themselves of their clothes, shoving at each other and joking as they tumble, naked into Minseok's bed.
"You're such a klutz," Minseok laughs, watching Yixing accidentally knock his elbow into the bedside table. Yixing nips at his collarbone in revenge, and Minseok arches up, his knees bent on either side of Yixing's hips.
"Quiet you," he teases, "I always like a little pain with my pleasure." Minseok smacks at the elbow Yixing had just hit and the Captain helps.
"Hitting your funny bone is not even pain," the artist argues, "It's just cruel and unusua- oh." Yixing circles his hand around the base of Minseok's dick, stroking upwards a few times. Minseok lifts his hips a little, silently asking for more, and Yixing wordlessly begins a descent down his body. With his free hand and his mouth, he traces out the lines of Minseok's muscles, kisses his nipples before sucking lightly on either of them. Minseok breathes, the hairs on the back of his neck rising with the sensitivity.
"Is it okay?" Yixing asks, nuzzling his nose against Minseok's bellybutton. Minseok nods almost frantically, because yes, yes it's okay. Yixing can have him however he wants.
Yixing kisses the tops of Minseok's thighs, bites softly on his hipbones, and then opens his mouth and takes Minseok into his mouth. Minseok whines, his hands falling into Yixing's hair. Yixing sucks, licking fat stripes up Minseok's dick and following with his fingers.
When his hands are busy on Minseok's cock, his mouth is working at his balls, kissing the soft skin.
"Lube," the Captain requests, holding out a hand for it. Minseok blinks to refocus his eyes.
"What?" He asks.
"Lube," Yixing repeats. He kisses the tip of Minseok's dick. "Or do you not want to?" But Minseok wants to, oh god, how he wants to. He reaches over to his bedside table, pulling out both lube and a condom. Yixing grabs them both, immediately tearing open the condom packet.
"How do you want me?" He asks Minseok, and the artist will take Yixing however he can get him at this moment, he just wants him-
"In me, please," Minseok nearly begs. He pulls his knees back, spreading himself for Yixing. The Captain rolls the condom down his own cock and snaps open the lid of the lube. He's generous with it, using more than Minseok would use on himself, but the slide of the first and second finger is so smooth, so easy, that Minseok doesn't mind.
"More," he pants, and Yixing dutifully adds a third finger, crooking them so that they brush against his prostate. Minseok shouts, grinding his hips down to chase after the sensation that sends tendrils of pleasure racing up his spine.
"Can I-?" Yixing starts, but Minseok has already grabbed Yixing's shoulder, hauling him up.
"Stop asking," Minseok growls, "I already said yes!" Yixing sinks into Minseok, who wriggles a little, trying to get comfortable. Yixing's gentle fingers still wrapped firmly around his dick are a pleasant distraction. It's a few moments of sloppy kisses and whispered sweet nothings before Yixing begins to move in earnest, thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm.
Minseok's fingers dig into Yixing's back, pads slipping into the gaps between the different scars. Yixing hisses, but doesn't pull away, and Minseok leans up to kiss his neck.
"Oh," Yixing murmurs, "Don't do that so soon."
"What?" Minseok asks, biting instead on Yixing's ear, "Why?"
Yixing laughs a little, a bit sheepish even as his hips roll sinfully into Minseok's, "Sensitive." He pants, leaning his forehead against Minseok's shoulder. "I don't want to come too soon." And Minseok may just have found that tidbit of information too adorable, moaning at the next thrust and throwing his knees over Yixing's shoulders.
Yixing thrusts in again, and Minseok has to restrain himself from screaming. At this angle, Yixing repeatedly strikes Minseok's prostate, leaving him a sobbing mess as his fists twist in the sheets and Yixing's name falls repeatedly from his mouth.
"You're so beautiful," Yixing pants. Minseok whimpers, clenching around Yixing.
"I'm going to-" He starts, cutting himself off with a low moan.
"Go ahead," Yixing encourages. Minseok smiles slyly, kisses Yixing once, and then drops his lips to the man's pulse point, sucking hard on the skin there. He feels Yixing's muscles tense, and his movements become sloppy, hard and relentless. Minseok comes first, but even through the haze of his own pleasure he can feel Yixing come into the condom and pull back. They lie together for a moment, just breathing.
"I'm so glad you said yes," Yixing admits into Minseok's hair. And even though Minseok's smile and pleased hum is answer enough, he turns over and crushes Yixing into a hug, planting a kiss on the other man's cheek in the innocent way.
"Me too," he says, "Me too."
May 19, 2019 - Sunday (continued)
It's Minseok who wakes first only a few hours after he fell asleep curled against Yixing's body. The Captain is still sleeping when he opens his eyes, and Minseok tries to snuggle back into his warmth and drift off again, but he's already seen the morning light glinting off Yixing's hair, felt the smooth skin marred by scars against his fingertips, and the urge to paint has already buried itself in his fingers.
Minseok rises carefully, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before stumbling into the bright light of his studio. He opens the paints, rinses his brushes, and sits before the painting he'd started the night of his exhibit. He sticks his lower lip in his mouth and paints.
About two hours later, Minseok steps back, dropping his brush and closing his paints. He's finished and famished. His growling stomach can attest to that. Giving his new masterpiece on last proud glance, he turns to the kitchen.
When pancakes and eggs along with sliced apples are sitting on the table, Minseok hears his bedroom door open. The morning sunlight catches in Yixing's inky hair when he stumbles out of Minseok's bedroom. He yawns and scratches unattractively at his belly.
Minseok's breath catches.
"Good morning," he says softly. The Captain smiles back, running a hand through his unruly hair. It's gotten long with his time away from service, but Minseok things the overlong bangs are cute.
"I smelled food," the Captain explains.
"Do you want coffee?" Minseok offers, holding up his own cup. Yixing smiles.
"With lots of cream and sugar," he says. Minseok grimaces, but adds the requested ingredients to Yixing's mug, passing it back to him. The man takes a sip, and then wrinkles his nose.
"Do I smell-?" Yixing turns his head toward Minseok's studio, and his eyes light upon the just finished painting sitting on the easel. "Paint." He moves towards it, setting the coffee mug down as if in a trance.
"Oh my god, Minseok," the Captain breathes, "This is amazing." He fingers lift, but Minseok snatches his arm back.
"It's still wet," he explains.
"You just-?"
"Yeah, this morning," Minseok confirms. "It's called Heartless." Just like at the exhibit, Yixing stands quietly for a few moments, tilting his head side to side as he considers the painting in front of him. He whispers the names of the flowers as he sees them, making Minseok feel warm inside that the message of the painting is reaching his boyfriend so easily. His eyes trace over the purple hyacinth that makes up the stars. I'm sorry, they seem to say, some brighter than others, Please forgive me.
"Is this me?" Yixing asks, pointing at the subject. Minseok nods, blushing a horrible bright red. Yixing seems content by this though, murmuring the word "althea," and Minseok knows his feelings are shared. Scattered around the subject, althea flowers creep up the man's legs, dragging him to his knees, showing him to be consumed by love. From his chest a bloody red carnation weeps, the color staining the white of his clothes and dripping onto the reflection of the moon on the water showing the ache in his heart for the one he has lost. He cups a pink carnation, the petals similar in style but different in color to the one torn into his chest. I'll never forget you.
"I only don't understand this part," Yixing says, gesturing at the dead sun eclipsed by a broken moon. Minseok smiles a sad smile and links his fingers with Yixing's.
"The sun shines when I'm with you," he says. Yixing looks at the dead sun again, and presses a kiss to Minseok's temple.
"You're right," he says, "Losing someone I love would make me quite heartless." He looks one last time at the painting, giving it an approving nod before pulling Minseok back to the kitchen where the breakfast Minseok prepared is waiting.
"But for now," Yixing says, holding Minseok's hand to his heart, "My heart is shining very brightly."
Sometime that Year
The next few months are true bliss to Minseok, days without Yixing spent with his hands covered in paint as Yixing's body inspires him to paint. He remembers tracing his hands along Yixing's spine, mouthing carefully at each knob of his vertebrae and running his nose over the healed scars that make a mess of his back. Luhan, of course, thinks their relationship is sickeningly sweet, but his pleased smile shows his support for his friends' relationship. Coffee on Wednesdays with Yixing in attendance always start the same way.
Luhan leans forward with a leer and asks, "So, how's the sex going for you, Mitch?" Minseok used to blush, but now he just pulls Yixing into kiss him, exaggeratedly sticking his tongue down his throat and pulling back to laugh at Luhan's retching noises.
Minseok traces the happy smile Yixing gives him every time they meet with his tongue, praises his boyfriend on his knees with his mouth open wide and nose pressed to Yixing's pelvic bone. Yixing's gasps, his hands in hair make Minseok's hands inch for his paintbrush and a blank canvas on which he can copy the likeliness of the happiness he feels in his chest with Yixing's hands dipping past the waistband of his pants, his fingertips digging bruises into his hips as they rock together.
But of course, all good things must end.
October 14, 2019 - Monday
"Minseok," Yixing begins with a sad glance down at the tiles on the floor of Minseok's kitchen. Minseok pauses in whisking the eggs for Omelets.
"What's wrong?" He asks, his eyebrows immediately drawing together. Yixing stands from his barstool, rounding the small island to drape his arms across Minseok's shoulders. Minseok blinks, his lower lip jutting out against his knowledge. Yixing's smile doesn't reach his eyes as he leans in to catch it between his own, sucking lightly.
Minseok abandons the whisk on the counter to clutch at Yixing's waist, his fingers tracing the scars he knows too well.
Yixing pulls back to quickly, pressing a kiss to Minseok's forehead and lingering there for too long.
"Xing," Minseok sighs, worry filtering into his tone. Yixing brings up his hands to Minseok's face.
"I'm being deployed," he says, voice low. Ice water crashes over Minseok. He's known this was coming, but it hadn't prepared him any more for the way his heart crashes to the floor and his throat feels as if it's closing up.
"Wh-when?" He chokes out.
"Next week," Yixing answers, "I fly out on the eighteenth." It's quiet, the two of them simply existing together.
"I knew you'd have to leave again eventually," Minseok says, "But I don't you to go."
Yixing gathers Minseok tight against his body. "I don't want to go either," he admits, "But it's my job, my duty." Minseok forces himself not to cry. He can cry after Yixing's left.
"I have you for now," he says, voice nearly wavering but resolve strong, "So let's enjoy it together, ok?" Yixing kisses him, and the whisked eggs are forgotten in favor of slamming the door shut as they collapse into the bedroom.
October 21, 2019 - Monday & The Following Months
"I'll miss you," Minseok says, his face buried in Yixing's neck. The other has one arm gripping tightly on his bag and the other gripping too tightly, too desperately onto Minseok's waist. Neither of them are ready to part, but the plane and the war will wait for no man. Yixing has to go.
"I'll miss you too, babe," Yixing murmurs back. They hold onto each other for a few more moments, attempting to impress their feelings for each other into the other's nervous system through touch. Yixing pulls back first, taking time to press a slow, goodbye kiss to Minseok's lips.
"I'll call as often as I can," he promises. Minseok laughs weakly.
"So you said," he says, "I'll keep my phone close." Another moment of silence passes, another kiss shared.
"Goodbye, Private Ryan," Minseok murmurs, stepping back. He squeezes Yixing's hand and lets go. The other smiles, giving him a mock salute.
"Catch you later," Yixing says. He turns and disappears through the gate. Minseok doesn't cry, but he wants to. Instead, he pulls out his phone and dials Luhan's number. He needs someone to distract him while he drives or else he'll just cry his whole way home.
The next few months are quieter without Yixing, but Minseok uses every memory with him as a muse to create his next masterpiece. He finds himself spending more and more time in front of his easel, preparing for another collaboration exhibition with big names from around the United States.
"My Heart Grows Fonder" is this year's theme, and Minseok couldn't find it more appropriate. He refuses to allow Heartless to be entered as one of his pieces however. He's saving it for Yixing and his return.
Minseok and Luhan continue their Wednesday pow-wows, and sometimes Minseok feels brave enough to talk about how much he misses Yixing, allowing Luhan to tell him embarrassing stories from his boyfriend's childhood.
Despite the distance, Minseok finds himself falling deeper and deeper for the Captain every passing day.
December 25, 2019 - Wednesday
Yixing tries to call Minseok as often as he can, but it's been nearly two weeks since Minseok last heard from his boyfriend. When his phone rings in the cute little tone Yixing set for himself, he dashes for it, nearly throwing his dinner on the floor in the process.
"Hello?" He answers the phone, breathless. He takes this call as an his Christmas present, preparing to tell that sentiment to his boyfriend.
"Minnie," Yixing answers. His voice is slow and tired, and Minseok worries.
"Hello, Yixing," Minseok says again, a smile creeping across his face at being in contact with the man he's so deeply in love with. "How are you? It's been awhile."
"Yeah," Yixing answers, obviously distracted as his word choice answers nothing. "Listen, Minseok, I have something to tell you."
Minseok blinks, not expecting the sudden seriousness and sincerity of Yixing's voice. "Ok?" He prompts, "What is it?"
"Baby, if I can't-" Yixing cuts himself off, the only sound between the two of them the static from a military grade phone. "If I don't-" He stops again, and the desperate edge to his voice has panic blooming in Minseok's chest.
"Don't what?" Minseok can't stop himself from blurting it out, tears already beginning to burn behind his eyes. He can hear Yixing swallow. Another beat of silence follows. "Don't what?" Minseok demands again. Yixing takes a breath.
"I love you so much, Minseok," Yixing whispers. Minseok's heart constricts in his chest, simultaneously swelling with happiness and freezing in fear. "You have to know that." It's the first time Yixing has ever told him out loud, but Minseok knows. He's known all along how his boyfriend really feels about him. At this moment, Yixing's confession can't be met with a simple "I love you, too" from Minseok. The words pump through his veins, echo in his mind, but what comes out of his mouth speaks volumes of the situation.
"Yixing, you're scaring me," Minseok says, clutching his phone in white-knuckled grip. More static crackles over the line. Minseok chokes back a sob. "Baby?"
"Min, listen, I- I have to go," Yixing says, "I love you, alright? I do." Minseok presses his the back of his hand to his mouth, silencing the cries that threaten to escape.
Yixing's shuddering intake of breath reveals his unhappiness over Minseok's lack of response, but he says one last goodbye anyway.
"Merry Christmas, Minseok," Yixing says. He doesn't add "catch you on the flip side" or some other lame phrase from decade old movies. Instead, the line goes dead, and the dial tone starts up.
Minseok collapses to his knees and cries.
January 8, 2020 - Wednesday
Two weeks later the yellow postcard with the presidential seal and Yixing Zhang's name arrives. Minseok calls Luhan right away, already sobbing into the phone. Luhan reminds him that it's Wednesday, and he'll meet him at Cups.
Surprisingly, Minseok arrives first and places an order of two black coffees. He tortures himself and sits in the same seat he had taken when he'd met Yixing. Facing away from the front of the shop, he doesn't see Luhan come in. He feels his best friend's arms wrap around him first, feels his tears against his neck second. They cry together, maneuvering themselves into two seats side-by-side and burying their faces in the other's shoulders. When Luhan has calmed enough to wipe away his tears and for his voice to come out even, he pulls back, continuing to rub Minseok's back with his free hand as he takes the postcard from him.
"Minseok," he starts, then thinks better of it. "Oh, Minnie." He sets the postcard face down on the table, and snatches up a napkin instead. Ever so gently, he dabs at Minseok's face before handing him his coffee and urging him to drink some. Minseok does, his sad eyes reflected back to him in the dark liquid.
Minseok sets his mug down on top of the yellow postcard, trying to cover up the name of his lover. If he didn't already know the horror of the words written on the thick paper, he could almost mistake it for a napkin. He wants to pour his over the postcard, watch is disintegrate and stain under the influence of the hot drink, but he also doesn't want to let go of the proof of the man he loves. Slowly, he picks his coffee back up and takes three long gulps of the stuff if only to give himself something other than crying to do.
"Lu, I just-" Minseok sucks in a breath through his teeth. "I miss him." He buries his head in his arms. "So fucking much." Luhan's fingers close around his best friend's wrist.
"Come on, let's go," Luhan says, dropping money on the table to pay for both of their coffees. Minseok's mug was nearly empty; Luhan's was untouched as usual. For this, Minseok is grateful. At least something can stay the same even if he'll never look at the war with a neutral expression ever again. He needs some constants in his life.
Minseok pauses on their way out the door.
"Ah, wait." Luhan sighs as his friend takes a few steps backwards and returns to the table. He lifts his coffee mug and grabs the yellow paper from under it. He tucks it into his pocket and maneuvers back to Luhan's side.
"Ok," he whispers. "We can go." Leaning heavily on his friend for support, Minseok heads out of the coffee shop where he first met Yixing Zhang. He closes the door behind him in hopes of closing the gaping wound in his heart with it.
It bleeds harder.
When Minseok goes to bed that night, he traces his finger around the coffee stain shaped in a ring from the bottom of the mug he had set on it. It forms a perfect circle around Yixing's name. Minseok cries himself to sleep.
January 23, 2020 - Thursday
Two weeks and one day later Minseok wakes up one year ago.
January 23, 2019 - Wednesday
Minseok's phone rings just as he reaches his destination. He pulls it out of his pocket with cold fingers to read the caller's name. He sighs when he sees it's just his floor manager for his new exhibit. He had told the guy he wouldn't be available even for emergencies, so there's really no excuse for him to call. Then again, his floor manager probably wouldn't call when he had explicit orders not to if it wasn't a big deal. Minseok sighs before answering the call.
"Mitchell Kim speaking," he answers.
"Minseok-ssi," comes the response in flustered Korean, "I'm sorry to bother you, but-"
"Joonmyun," Minseok interrupts, "Calm down. I'll be there in half an hour." He hangs up promptly, mood spoiled. He dials Luhan's number as he raises a hand to hail a cab.
His best friend picks up on the second ring. "Hey baby," he jokes, "Where are you?"
"Ah, I'm sorry, Lu, but-" he pauses to slide into the cab that stopped for him, and relays the address of his exhibit's sight quickly, "Something came up with the exhibit. I'm going to have to cancel on you."
"Minseok!" Luhan whines. Minseok listens to the soft murmur of Mandarin that suddenly invades their conversation. He hears a noise of agreement from Luhan.
"Lu, is someone there?" Minseok asks.
"Huh?" Luhan says. Minseok can picture the two blinks he does whenever he has to suddenly switch languages. "Oh. Yeah. I brought a friend I'd like to introduce you to with me." Minseok feels a sudden crash of guilt spin in his belly. He shrugs it off.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Luhan, I could-"
"No, no," his best friend cuts him off, "I know this exhibit is a big deal so just do what you've got to do. You two can meet at another time." Minseok is thankful for Luhan's understanding and relays the sentiments to his friend before hanging up the phone. He glances back at the street right before the cab turns the corner and gets a glance of coffee shop's storefront.
At once, the most intense feeling of loss consumes Minseok; he bites his lip, unsure where the feeling came from.
February 4, 2019 - Monday
A few days before his exhibit opens, Minseok ushers Joonmyun out of the exhibit space, insisting on a few minutes alone with his work before opening night. Minseok closes the door behind his floor manager, assuring him that he'll be careful on his way home even though he knows Joonmyun will wait for his outside. He turns, closes his eyes, and breathes.
It's a ritual of his, a habit to check over the final placements of his paintings three days before opening. As he approves each area of his exhibit, he turns off the lights. Slowly, he progresses to the main hallway where the auction will be held, where the patrons will be served wine and champagne, where his centerpiece stands on stage under the most flattering lighting.
Minseok stands and stares. He breathes and stares harder. The most intense feeling of hate, of dispassion, of lies and unbelievable ignorance digs into his stomach like an arrow from an archer's bow. Minseok's hand clench into fists; the arrow twists. He feels his heart begin to bleed.
Filled with unexplainable rage and hurt, Minseok stalks forward toward Bliss, his eyes narrowed at his centerpiece. He traces his fingers over the lines, feels the imperfections in the pain over the canvas, and seethes. His fingers hook over the large frame surrounding the painting, and he pulls.
The artwork crashes to the ground. The wood frame splinters. The nails stick out from the shattered pieces. Minseok snatches one up and falls to his knees on top of the painting. The wood framing stretching the canvas tight has loosened; his body weight begins to tear the canvas. He stares at the hand clutches over the heart of his subject. He reaches behind him. His finger is sliced open on one of the nails that had held the display frame together. He grabs at the nail and brings it up to his face. He stares at it, watches the blood drip slowly from the tip of his middle finger to stain the silver of the nail. He looks back at the hand he had painted in gentle peach hues, at the tan skin of the subject's chest.
Lies.
He brings his hand down, stabbing the nail through the canvas and pulls. The canvas shreds under his touch. He pulls and pulls until the painting is nothing but strips of painted fabric, a puzzle that can no longer be put together. He'd caught the back of his other hand in his angry, rash motions, and his blood is streaked across the ruined painting.
Minseok pants harshly, his chest heaving.
The door opens again.
"Minseok-hyung?" A voice says in Korean. The soft tone makes Minseok's heart skip a beat, and he feels a sort of peace pass through him for a quick second, until the absolute rage comes back at the person's shout of shock.
"Minseok!" Joonmyun nearly screams, "What have you done?" The floor director rushes to Minseok's side, looking pained and slightly constipated as he steps gingerly on top of what was a masterpiece not five minutes ago. His eyes zero in on the blood dripping from Minseok's hands.
"Oh, you're hands!" He exclaims. He leans over and grasps at Minseok's shoulder. "C'mon, up you get." Minseok slowly, so slowly, unfolds his legs, bringing himself to his feet. "Let's get you to the hospital."
Minseok blinks. "What? why?"
Joonmyun does one of his sighs of long suffering before shaking Minseok's hand. A bit of his blood hits his face. "Your hand, Minseok! You probably need stitches." Minseok feels to numb, to shocked to respond, and he lets Joonmyun lead him to a cab, directing the driver to the nearby clinic. It's not until they're sitting in the waiting room that Minseok bothers to respond to Joonmyun's constant inquiries.
"You're exhibit is in three days," he's saying, "Why would you destroy Bliss? It's your centerpiece!"
Minseok doesn't meet his floor director's eyes as he answers him. "When I painted Bliss, idea was that love isn't necessary to have a fulfilled life." He blinks, and a lone tear trails over his right cheek. He wipes it away quickly and meets Joonmyun's confused eyes. "To never have loved, it may be blissful from ignorance, but wouldn't it be lonely as well?"
He presses his bloody hand to his heart, the red blooming on his white shirt like a red carnation. "Wouldn't it hurt like this?"
February 8, 2019 - Friday
"Minseok!"
The artist hears his name called jovially from behind him and he turns to see Luhan with his hand around some other man's forearm. He tugs a bit on his guest and together they approach Minseok. The artist thanks the people he is talking to and apologizes for cutting their conversation short.
"Hey, Luhan," he says, his speech pattern waning toward informal, "Who's this?"
"This is the friend I wanted you to meet a few weeks ago in Cups," Luhan says, "Ryan Zhang meet Mitchell Kim, affectionately known to the art world as Xiumin."
"Call me Minseok," the artist says, offering his hand to Luhan's friend.
"Yixing," the man responds in turn, "I'm a huge fan of your work. My mom sends me postcards with your stuff on them all the time."
Minseok blinks. "But Luhan's mom lives around here?"
"Oh," Yixing says, "I'm usually abroad. I'm in the Navy."
"My darling Captain," Luhan interjects, throwing an arm over Yixing's shoulders and rumpling his hair. Minseok laughs, always happy to see his best friend happy.
"Come along you two," Minseok says, already steering them toward the back of the exhibit where the lights shine brightly on his centerpiece, "I want your opinion on my latest." Yixing looks excited and intrigued, Luhan appearing like a proud parent. Minseok knocks his shoulder.
"This," Minseok introduces, "Is Heartless."
It had taken Minseok two all-nighters in a row and constant painting for nearly sixty hours to complete his new centerpiece, but he had done it. This time, he's created something that he's truly proud of, something that he knows with a certainty he can't explain that will be praised highly by critics.
He waves his hand in a grand gesture, sweeping it out to display his masterpiece (he calls it that with undying conviction). Luhan smiles widely instantly, a steady support for Minseok and his endeavors as the artist Xiumin. He bursts immediately into praise, his tongue tripping over itself as he throws around artistic terms he really knows nothing about. Minseok thanks his best friend, clinking their wine glasses together.
Luhan then nudges Yixing, asking for his opinion. Minseok watches with a feeling of misplaced deja vu as Yixing worries his lower lip thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed to assess the small details and widened to take in the entire image without focus. He blinks a few times.
"I really like it," he says simply. He offers Minseok a smile, "This is easily one of your best works. The colors and the message...everything." He pulls out his phone timidly. "Can I take a picture of it?" Minseok gives him permission without a second thought even though pictures are forbidden within the gallery. Yixing is polite and doesn't use his flash, and if not for the high price tag this piece will surely go for in the auction, Minseok would let him have this one. Something about his work reminds him of the man he's just met- it may be the uncanny resemblance between Yixing and the subject of his painting. His easy praise of it only adds to the feeling.
"Thank you," Minseok says, he words more earnest than he's ever said them. Yixing smiles; Luhan beams.
"Ok," Luhan says, coming up to drape an arm over Minseok's shoulders, "Since we were so nice about your shit, you can buy us drinks. I want that expensive Merlot. The 2012? You should get it for me..." The man continues to chatter as he leads Minseok towards the bar. Yixing follows them, and for a brief moment, Minseok's heart feels completely full.
March 17, 2019 - Sunday
Chili's-to-go is Minseok's Sunday treat for himself. He doesn't make it every month, but when he does, he considers it a good month. Today he's celebrating the success of his exhibit (his bank account is praising the extra few zeros added in) with a cheeseburger and fries.
"Hey, are you...Mitchell?" An extremely familiar but implacable voice says from Minseok's left. He turns his head to see Luhan's friend. He wracks his brain for a name. Yixing. His heart protests. Call me Minseok! Minseok refuses to ask that of the other man- he barely knows him!
"Yixing?" He asks in return, "It's Yixing, right?"
"Yeah," the other man says, "I just saw you and thought I should say hi."
"Ah," Minseok manages, nearly coughing from the urge to just grab the other man in his arms, "Hello, then. How've you been recently?"
Yixing shrugs. "Been good. Got my stitches out." Minseok blinks, an image of scar tissue crossing beautiful pale skin entering his mind unbidden.
"Oh, the grenade. Right." he says. A worker then steps out, two bags of food in her hands.
"Mitch?" She reads, "Ryan?"
"That's me," both men respond. The girl looks a bit confused, but hands off the food before scurrying back inside to the warmth of the restaurant. There's a moment of silence before Yixing clears his throat.
"Well, I should get going but it was nice to see you," he says, dropping a hand on Minseok's shoulder for a mere second. Minseok let's out some type of agreement, but all he really wants it for Yixing's hand to stay there on his shoulder where it belongs. He shakes his head free of his ridiculous thoughts and moves to put his food in his car.
Minseok straightens and stares at the back of Yixing's car (Luhan's, actually. He must have borrowed it) as he drives away with furrowed brows. For some reason, he feels as if his insides are being taken away with the car's driver. It's strange and unpleasant.
June 12, 2019 - Wednesday
It's Wednesday, and Luhan has brought Yixing with him. He smiles apologetically at Minseok, but Minseok doesn't mind. In fact, he's kind of awed by the happiness that radiates from his best friend.
It's makes him feel happy too, until he looks at Yixing for a second too long. All of a sudden, he's assaulted by the most horrific twinge of jealousy and the gaping loneliness that accompanies the sudden emptiness in his chest. He's been feeling this way too often recently, and it makes him feel angry. The coloring in his cheeks alerts Luhan that something is wrong, and he inquires about it gently, his hand not resting on Yixing's thigh coming up to wipe at the furrow between Minseok's eyebrows.
"I'm fine," Minseok gets out, forcing his voice to be pleasant. Luhan gives him a dubious look. Minseok stutters. "I-I'm serious! I've been, uh, working really hard on some new paintings. My thoughts are kind of with them." This is a lie, of course. Minseok hasn't felt an ounce of creativity since his past exhibit.
Luhan nods in understanding, satisfied. He leans back, settling against Yixing, and Minseok has to restrain himself from growling.
He wants Luhan to be happy, he does. It's just that his heart apparently doesn't want to be the only one alone between the two of them or something like that. He blinks, coming back to Luhan telling him a story about Sergeant Whiles. Somehow, the image of a tall man with a bald head and slight goatee pops into Minseok's head. He glances at Yixing again, and chooses to forcefully laugh along with Luhan's tale and ignore the unsettled rolling in his gut.
October 21, 2019 - Monday
Minseok's rinsing his paintbrushes, setting aside the ones that need to be replaced, when his phone stars to blare his ringtone. He dries his hands quickly.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Mitch," Luhan's voice answers, "Can you do me a favor?" Minseok presses the phone a little closer to his ear.
"Umm, depends," he says, "What's up?"
Luhan laughs a little, "I'm at the airport. Can you pick me up?"
"Right now?"
Another laugh, this one sheepish and tinged with sadness. "Yeah. Right now." Minseok glances at the clock. He's got two hours before Joonmyun arrives to assess his latest collection.
"Yeah," he answers, "I'm on my way right now."
"Thanks, man," Luhan responds. "See you soon. I'll be waiting at terminal two, ok?"
"Sure," Minseok says, making a mental note, "I'll honk at you. Bye." Luhan returns the sentiment and hangs up. When Minseok gets to the airport, he greeted by the saddest, loneliest expression on Luhan's face, not the bright man he's used to seeing. He asks what's bothering him, asks why Luhan is even at the airport, but it's a few long moments before Luhan answers.
"He had to go back," Luhan says, "It's his duty."
"When will he be back?" Minseok asks, sliding into the left turn lane to get back on the interstate. Luhan sighs.
"There's no date, really," he answers, his voice already tinged with longing, "He's a Captain, you know? They need him." He laughs humorlessly. "The next time he comes home will either be when the war ends or he's injured again." He fiddles with his phone. "I don't want him hurt, but..." He trails out.
"I get it," Minseok says, "If he was injured and had to come home, you'd be glad to see him."
"Isn't that an awful thought?" Luhan says. Minseok shrugs and doesn't answer. He's too busy trying to solve the empty feeling in his chest.
January 8, 2020 - Wednesday
Minseok wakes Wednesday morning to five new text messages, each from Luhan demanding his presence at Cups. Minseok smiles despite the awful sense of foreboding starting to take over his senses. He stuffs a few dollars in his pocket along with his phone and keys before heading out the door.
Minseok steps into the coffee shop at ten o'clock on the dot. As usual, Luhan is has arrived earlier than him, two cups of steaming black coffee already in place.
"Hey, Lu- hey, what's wrong?" Minseok's cheery tune drops immediately as he takes in the slope and slight shake of his best friend's shoulders. He hears a hitch in his friend's breath. Minseok drops into the seat next to Luhan, one hand coming up to rest between his shoulder blades. "Luhan."
His best friend doesn't answer; instead, he throws himself into Minseok's arms and cries against his shoulder. It takes awhile, but Luhan finally calms enough to whisper a question Minseok can't possibly answer.
"Why do bad things happen to good people?" His voice is hoarse, and Minseok can only run his fingers through Luhan's hair.
"I don't know, Lu," he says. "Why?" Luhan's fingers fumble through his jeans' pocket to pull out a neatly folded yellow postcard. Although he's never seen one before, Minseok knows exactly what it is.
"Oh, Luhan," he whispers because that's really all he can say.
"I keep trying to hide it from myself," Luhan says. "I'll put it somewhere I can't see it, but then it's all I can think about." He closes his eyes, and a few more tears slip down his cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmingly sad."
Minseok holds his tongue, continuing to hold Luhan close to himself. It's a few minutes later when his best friend speaks again, his voice so shattered that Minseok feels pieces of his own glass heart crack against his ribcage.
"I just miss him," Luhan murmurs.
It's these words that answer the question Minseok had asked himself so many months ago in this same coffee shop. "Oh, I see," he whispers, "You were in love with him." Luhan freezes, holding his breath, and then nods. He breaks down into fresh tears, even as he holds silent the sobs that wrack his body.
"At least he died with honor," Minseok says, forcing a smile onto his face. "Isn't that the American Dream?"
Luhan's tears pause, anger marring his pretty features, "Oh, fuck you, Minseok." He shakes his head. "Really, just fuck you. How dare you joke about his death."
"I don't know what else to say, Lu!" Minseok returns, "I guess I just thought I could cheer you up or something." The last words of his sentence trail out, sounding ridiculous even to himself.
"By making light of the situation?" Luhan accuses. The pain is raw in his voice, and Minseok can practically hear the question Luhan's not asking him. Don't you care? He does care, really, he does. It's just that these past few months, he's felt so hollow. Sometimes he thinks he's forgetting how to feel, but it's no excuse for failing to comfort his best friend.
"Seriously, Minseok," Luhan says, voice incredulous and eyes pitying. "It's like you've never noticed your heart before." He stands and wipes furiously at his eyes before zipping up his wind-breaker. He's angry and upset and hurt. Minseok can't do anything for him.
Luhan leaves his coffee behind like he always does. Minseok will eternally wonder why he buys it when he hates it - refuses to even have the beans in his house for his friends.
Underneath the coffee mug is a yellow postcard with the presidential seal. Minseok pulls it from underneath the cream ceramic carefully, smoothing out the creases with the fingers. There's a circular coffee stain dead center of the yellow postcard circling around a name that Minseok doesn't know well. A painful lurch in his chest tells him otherwise. He traces the pattern of the words with his fingers. He doesn't stumble even once in his tracing, his muscles somehow familiar with the pattern of the foreign name.
Yixing "Ryan" Zhang.
There's no explanation for it, but Minseok breaks down and cries.
[Author's Note (click to open!)]Author's Note:
May 18, 2019 - Saturday
When Minseok opens the door, he can't quite stop himself from gaping at his date for the night. He's seen Yixing in a suit, seen him in ass-hugging jeans and a distinctive lack of a shirt, but nothing, none of his mental preparation, had prepared him for the live version of Yixing in full Dress Blues.
"Good evening," Yixing greets, his eyes roaming up and down as they drink Minseok in. Minseok knows he looks good (he's not blind to stares from passerby's through the windows of the tailor shop), but he knows he can't possibly look better than the Navy Captain standing strong in front of him.
"H-hi," Minseok stammers out. Yixing dimples.
"Do I look that good?" He teases, stepping inside. Minseok shuts the door, reaching for his coat and shoes.
"I've seen better," he recovers. Yixing laughs, pressing a kiss to Minseok's temple.
"Of course," he says. "But in this uniform? I think not." Minseok doesn't say anything, merely snorts even though internally he agrees wholeheartedly with the Captain's statement. He leans down, tying his shoes. He'd indulged himself this time, using some of his rather cushy bank account to buy Italian leather (Luhan had insisted).
He looks up, notices Yixing looking at him patiently. Minseok stands from his chair.
"This is the first time I've been in here," Yixing says, "I guess I expected more mess from an artist." Minseok shrugs. He'd gotten that comment many times before.
"I can't find my supplies if everything is a mess," he explains. "What if an idea gets away because I can't find the tool I need?"
Yixing nods. "So this is your studio then?" He starts to move toward the living room. A mirage of purple and blues and a broken moon flash across Minseok's field of vision, and he panics. He grabs onto Yixing's arm.
"Yes, it is," he says, steering the Captain the other way, back towards the door, "but don't go in there. Umm. I don't want your suit getting dirty?" The excuse is weak, but Yixing is nothing if not polite and unassuming towards Minseok.
"Shall we go then?" He offers. "You can give me a tour some other time."
Minseok smiles, grateful. "Sure," he agrees.
"So tell me what to expect at this banquet," he says, slipping his hand into Yixing's. The Captain launches into a rant about how boring the higher-ups really are and leads Minseok out the door to where the cab is waiting. He continues with his stories, Minseok laughing more than once at his sort of dazed way of story-telling, fitting in notes on etiquette and a short who's-who along th way.
When they pull into the hotel, Minseok's nerves have mostly settled, and the warmth of Yixing's hand on his back is enough to keep him from breaking out in cold sweat. The S.W.A.T. team standing around the hotel doors makes him send a wide-eyed stare in Yixing's direction, but the other soothes him, whispering that it's just precaution.
"Ah, Captain Zhang," says a deep voice of a tall man with a rather funny beard. His build and the decorated jacket make him seem the near archetypal military man.
"Sergeant Whiles," Yixing responds immediately, his hand coming up into a salute. The other man copies him, and Minseok feels a round of long introductions coming on. He shakes the Sergeant's hand.
"Mitchell Kim," he says, "It's an honor to meet you, sir." The man nods, his chin above Minseok's head.
"Likewise," he returns. Naturally, as Minseok could have expected, the night continues on like this for an hour or so, names and faces bleeding together under the yellow chandeliers and red carpets. He enjoys the dinner, eating carefully so as not to mess up his rented tux or get sauce smeared across his lips, but he still catches Yixing staring at him at one point. He colors.
"Do I have something on my face?" He asks, reaching for his napkin. Yixing grabs his hand and shakes his head.
"No," he says, "I just think you look radiant." Minseok preens from the praise. He continues his string of compliments, asking various army wives if his date is attractive and letting Minseok listen to them rave about him and rave about them. One of the ladies, an older woman with gray running through her brown hair and a few wrinkles around her blue eyes tells Minseok that she had tried to set Yixing up with her daughter, and upon hearing about his being gay, tried to set him up with her son!
"He's such a wonderful young man," she gushes, "You really got yourself a good one."
There were a few people who recognized Minseok, calling him Xiumin and asking for an autograph. Consistently, Minseok tries to refuse, but Yixing insists, his smile proud and touch comforting.
It's not until later, when Sergeant Whiles is giving a speech, that Yixing does anything especially exciting.
"Minseok," Yixing whispers, leaning over in his seat to breathe directly into Minseok's ear. The artist barely suppresses the shiver that runs down his spine. His body's near overreaction lets him know his alcohol limit is fast approaching. He sets down his flute of champagne.
"Yes?"
"You know I asked you here for one reason, right?" Yixing murmurs lowly. Minseok fights with his body's urge to shiver and lean against Yixing again.
"Oh?" He asks. He'd thought that this re-enactment of Esther was over. Yixing dimples as he reaches underneath the table cloth to take Minseok's hand in his.
"This is my endgame," Yixing promises, "Will you be my boyfriend?" Minseok lifts their entwined hands from his lap, pressing a kiss to the back of Yixing's hand. He looks at Yixing brightly, whispering back to him the words that have a few of the old ladies cheering him on from their nearby seats.
"Of course I will."
May 19, 2019 - Sunday
Minseok nearly falls asleep on Yixing's shoulder during the cab ride back, a quick glance at the Captain's watch revealing the time to be nearly two in the morning. Minseok had only wanted out of his rented tux and into his bed when Yixing pulled him from the cab, paying the driver, but he starts to wake up as they trek up the stairs.
The warmth of Yixing's arm and the faint hum of alcohol make Minseok brave, his body waking and buzzing to hold onto Yixing.
The Captain tells him a simple goodnight, the door open behind Minseok, pressing a kiss and a thank you to Minseok's lips. He makes to walk away, but Minseok grabs his arm and pulls him back.
"Won't you stay?"
Yixing is careful, leaning down the slightest bit to fit his mouth against Minseok's, tasting the champagne they'd drunk not long ago. Minseok grabs at the shoulders of Yixing's dress blues, sighing softly against his lips.
"Are you sure?" Yixing pulls back to ask, but it's unnecessary. Minseok may have consumed an extra glass of champagne, but he's wanted Yixing since their last date, and now he has him.
In uniform, no less.
He wants him out of it.
"Yes, Yixing," he says, "Yes."
The two of them fall together against Minseok's doorframe, their hands clutching at dinner jackets and dress blues. They stumble into Minseok's apartment, hands roaming, kicking the door closed behind them. Yixing backs Minseok up into the island, pressing their bodies together, attached at the mouth. Yixing's fingers work at the button of Minseok's coat, pushing it off his shoulders.
"I should," he says between kisses, "hang this." He moves on to suck marks into Minseok's neck.
"It's a rental," Minseok pants, pulling Yixing back up to kiss him, "Leave it." Yixing laughs, shrugging out of his own navy coat and attacking the buttons on Minseok's tux.
"Bedroom?" he asks against the skin he reveals with each button. Minseok grabs his hand.
"This way," he says. He leads Yixing there, attached at the mouths and accidentally bumping into the doorframe. They laugh, the both of them divesting themselves of their clothes, shoving at each other and joking as they tumble, naked into Minseok's bed.
"You're such a klutz," Minseok laughs, watching Yixing accidentally knock his elbow into the bedside table. Yixing nips at his collarbone in revenge, and Minseok arches up, his knees bent on either side of Yixing's hips.
"Quiet you," he teases, "I always like a little pain with my pleasure." Minseok smacks at the elbow Yixing had just hit and the Captain helps.
"Hitting your funny bone is not even pain," the artist argues, "It's just cruel and unusua- oh." Yixing circles his hand around the base of Minseok's dick, stroking upwards a few times. Minseok lifts his hips a little, silently asking for more, and Yixing wordlessly begins a descent down his body. With his free hand and his mouth, he traces out the lines of Minseok's muscles, kisses his nipples before sucking lightly on either of them. Minseok breathes, the hairs on the back of his neck rising with the sensitivity.
"Is it okay?" Yixing asks, nuzzling his nose against Minseok's bellybutton. Minseok nods almost frantically, because yes, yes it's okay. Yixing can have him however he wants.
Yixing kisses the tops of Minseok's thighs, bites softly on his hipbones, and then opens his mouth and takes Minseok into his mouth. Minseok whines, his hands falling into Yixing's hair. Yixing sucks, licking fat stripes up Minseok's dick and following with his fingers.
When his hands are busy on Minseok's cock, his mouth is working at his balls, kissing the soft skin.
"Lube," the Captain requests, holding out a hand for it. Minseok blinks to refocus his eyes.
"What?" He asks.
"Lube," Yixing repeats. He kisses the tip of Minseok's dick. "Or do you not want to?" But Minseok wants to, oh god, how he wants to. He reaches over to his bedside table, pulling out both lube and a condom. Yixing grabs them both, immediately tearing open the condom packet.
"How do you want me?" He asks Minseok, and the artist will take Yixing however he can get him at this moment, he just wants him-
"In me, please," Minseok nearly begs. He pulls his knees back, spreading himself for Yixing. The Captain rolls the condom down his own cock and snaps open the lid of the lube. He's generous with it, using more than Minseok would use on himself, but the slide of the first and second finger is so smooth, so easy, that Minseok doesn't mind.
"More," he pants, and Yixing dutifully adds a third finger, crooking them so that they brush against his prostate. Minseok shouts, grinding his hips down to chase after the sensation that sends tendrils of pleasure racing up his spine.
"Can I-?" Yixing starts, but Minseok has already grabbed Yixing's shoulder, hauling him up.
"Stop asking," Minseok growls, "I already said yes!" Yixing sinks into Minseok, who wriggles a little, trying to get comfortable. Yixing's gentle fingers still wrapped firmly around his dick are a pleasant distraction. It's a few moments of sloppy kisses and whispered sweet nothings before Yixing begins to move in earnest, thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm.
Minseok's fingers dig into Yixing's back, pads slipping into the gaps between the different scars. Yixing hisses, but doesn't pull away, and Minseok leans up to kiss his neck.
"Oh," Yixing murmurs, "Don't do that so soon."
"What?" Minseok asks, biting instead on Yixing's ear, "Why?"
Yixing laughs a little, a bit sheepish even as his hips roll sinfully into Minseok's, "Sensitive." He pants, leaning his forehead against Minseok's shoulder. "I don't want to come too soon." And Minseok may just have found that tidbit of information too adorable, moaning at the next thrust and throwing his knees over Yixing's shoulders.
Yixing thrusts in again, and Minseok has to restrain himself from screaming. At this angle, Yixing repeatedly strikes Minseok's prostate, leaving him a sobbing mess as his fists twist in the sheets and Yixing's name falls repeatedly from his mouth.
"You're so beautiful," Yixing pants. Minseok whimpers, clenching around Yixing.
"I'm going to-" He starts, cutting himself off with a low moan.
"Go ahead," Yixing encourages. Minseok smiles slyly, kisses Yixing once, and then drops his lips to the man's pulse point, sucking hard on the skin there. He feels Yixing's muscles tense, and his movements become sloppy, hard and relentless. Minseok comes first, but even through the haze of his own pleasure he can feel Yixing come into the condom and pull back. They lie together for a moment, just breathing.
"I'm so glad you said yes," Yixing admits into Minseok's hair. And even though Minseok's smile and pleased hum is answer enough, he turns over and crushes Yixing into a hug, planting a kiss on the other man's cheek in the innocent way.
"Me too," he says, "Me too."
May 19, 2019 - Sunday (continued)
It's Minseok who wakes first only a few hours after he fell asleep curled against Yixing's body. The Captain is still sleeping when he opens his eyes, and Minseok tries to snuggle back into his warmth and drift off again, but he's already seen the morning light glinting off Yixing's hair, felt the smooth skin marred by scars against his fingertips, and the urge to paint has already buried itself in his fingers.
Minseok rises carefully, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt before stumbling into the bright light of his studio. He opens the paints, rinses his brushes, and sits before the painting he'd started the night of his exhibit. He sticks his lower lip in his mouth and paints.
About two hours later, Minseok steps back, dropping his brush and closing his paints. He's finished and famished. His growling stomach can attest to that. Giving his new masterpiece on last proud glance, he turns to the kitchen.
When pancakes and eggs along with sliced apples are sitting on the table, Minseok hears his bedroom door open. The morning sunlight catches in Yixing's inky hair when he stumbles out of Minseok's bedroom. He yawns and scratches unattractively at his belly.
Minseok's breath catches.
"Good morning," he says softly. The Captain smiles back, running a hand through his unruly hair. It's gotten long with his time away from service, but Minseok things the overlong bangs are cute.
"I smelled food," the Captain explains.
"Do you want coffee?" Minseok offers, holding up his own cup. Yixing smiles.
"With lots of cream and sugar," he says. Minseok grimaces, but adds the requested ingredients to Yixing's mug, passing it back to him. The man takes a sip, and then wrinkles his nose.
"Do I smell-?" Yixing turns his head toward Minseok's studio, and his eyes light upon the just finished painting sitting on the easel. "Paint." He moves towards it, setting the coffee mug down as if in a trance.
"Oh my god, Minseok," the Captain breathes, "This is amazing." He fingers lift, but Minseok snatches his arm back.
"It's still wet," he explains.
"You just-?"
"Yeah, this morning," Minseok confirms. "It's called Heartless." Just like at the exhibit, Yixing stands quietly for a few moments, tilting his head side to side as he considers the painting in front of him. He whispers the names of the flowers as he sees them, making Minseok feel warm inside that the message of the painting is reaching his boyfriend so easily. His eyes trace over the purple hyacinth that makes up the stars. I'm sorry, they seem to say, some brighter than others, Please forgive me.
"Is this me?" Yixing asks, pointing at the subject. Minseok nods, blushing a horrible bright red. Yixing seems content by this though, murmuring the word "althea," and Minseok knows his feelings are shared. Scattered around the subject, althea flowers creep up the man's legs, dragging him to his knees, showing him to be consumed by love. From his chest a bloody red carnation weeps, the color staining the white of his clothes and dripping onto the reflection of the moon on the water showing the ache in his heart for the one he has lost. He cups a pink carnation, the petals similar in style but different in color to the one torn into his chest. I'll never forget you.
"I only don't understand this part," Yixing says, gesturing at the dead sun eclipsed by a broken moon. Minseok smiles a sad smile and links his fingers with Yixing's.
"The sun shines when I'm with you," he says. Yixing looks at the dead sun again, and presses a kiss to Minseok's temple.
"You're right," he says, "Losing someone I love would make me quite heartless." He looks one last time at the painting, giving it an approving nod before pulling Minseok back to the kitchen where the breakfast Minseok prepared is waiting.
"But for now," Yixing says, holding Minseok's hand to his heart, "My heart is shining very brightly."
Sometime that Year
The next few months are true bliss to Minseok, days without Yixing spent with his hands covered in paint as Yixing's body inspires him to paint. He remembers tracing his hands along Yixing's spine, mouthing carefully at each knob of his vertebrae and running his nose over the healed scars that make a mess of his back. Luhan, of course, thinks their relationship is sickeningly sweet, but his pleased smile shows his support for his friends' relationship. Coffee on Wednesdays with Yixing in attendance always start the same way.
Luhan leans forward with a leer and asks, "So, how's the sex going for you, Mitch?" Minseok used to blush, but now he just pulls Yixing into kiss him, exaggeratedly sticking his tongue down his throat and pulling back to laugh at Luhan's retching noises.
Minseok traces the happy smile Yixing gives him every time they meet with his tongue, praises his boyfriend on his knees with his mouth open wide and nose pressed to Yixing's pelvic bone. Yixing's gasps, his hands in hair make Minseok's hands inch for his paintbrush and a blank canvas on which he can copy the likeliness of the happiness he feels in his chest with Yixing's hands dipping past the waistband of his pants, his fingertips digging bruises into his hips as they rock together.
But of course, all good things must end.
October 14, 2019 - Monday
"Minseok," Yixing begins with a sad glance down at the tiles on the floor of Minseok's kitchen. Minseok pauses in whisking the eggs for Omelets.
"What's wrong?" He asks, his eyebrows immediately drawing together. Yixing stands from his barstool, rounding the small island to drape his arms across Minseok's shoulders. Minseok blinks, his lower lip jutting out against his knowledge. Yixing's smile doesn't reach his eyes as he leans in to catch it between his own, sucking lightly.
Minseok abandons the whisk on the counter to clutch at Yixing's waist, his fingers tracing the scars he knows too well.
Yixing pulls back to quickly, pressing a kiss to Minseok's forehead and lingering there for too long.
"Xing," Minseok sighs, worry filtering into his tone. Yixing brings up his hands to Minseok's face.
"I'm being deployed," he says, voice low. Ice water crashes over Minseok. He's known this was coming, but it hadn't prepared him any more for the way his heart crashes to the floor and his throat feels as if it's closing up.
"Wh-when?" He chokes out.
"Next week," Yixing answers, "I fly out on the eighteenth." It's quiet, the two of them simply existing together.
"I knew you'd have to leave again eventually," Minseok says, "But I don't you to go."
Yixing gathers Minseok tight against his body. "I don't want to go either," he admits, "But it's my job, my duty." Minseok forces himself not to cry. He can cry after Yixing's left.
"I have you for now," he says, voice nearly wavering but resolve strong, "So let's enjoy it together, ok?" Yixing kisses him, and the whisked eggs are forgotten in favor of slamming the door shut as they collapse into the bedroom.
October 21, 2019 - Monday & The Following Months
"I'll miss you," Minseok says, his face buried in Yixing's neck. The other has one arm gripping tightly on his bag and the other gripping too tightly, too desperately onto Minseok's waist. Neither of them are ready to part, but the plane and the war will wait for no man. Yixing has to go.
"I'll miss you too, babe," Yixing murmurs back. They hold onto each other for a few more moments, attempting to impress their feelings for each other into the other's nervous system through touch. Yixing pulls back first, taking time to press a slow, goodbye kiss to Minseok's lips.
"I'll call as often as I can," he promises. Minseok laughs weakly.
"So you said," he says, "I'll keep my phone close." Another moment of silence passes, another kiss shared.
"Goodbye, Private Ryan," Minseok murmurs, stepping back. He squeezes Yixing's hand and lets go. The other smiles, giving him a mock salute.
"Catch you later," Yixing says. He turns and disappears through the gate. Minseok doesn't cry, but he wants to. Instead, he pulls out his phone and dials Luhan's number. He needs someone to distract him while he drives or else he'll just cry his whole way home.
The next few months are quieter without Yixing, but Minseok uses every memory with him as a muse to create his next masterpiece. He finds himself spending more and more time in front of his easel, preparing for another collaboration exhibition with big names from around the United States.
"My Heart Grows Fonder" is this year's theme, and Minseok couldn't find it more appropriate. He refuses to allow Heartless to be entered as one of his pieces however. He's saving it for Yixing and his return.
Minseok and Luhan continue their Wednesday pow-wows, and sometimes Minseok feels brave enough to talk about how much he misses Yixing, allowing Luhan to tell him embarrassing stories from his boyfriend's childhood.
Despite the distance, Minseok finds himself falling deeper and deeper for the Captain every passing day.
December 25, 2019 - Wednesday
Yixing tries to call Minseok as often as he can, but it's been nearly two weeks since Minseok last heard from his boyfriend. When his phone rings in the cute little tone Yixing set for himself, he dashes for it, nearly throwing his dinner on the floor in the process.
"Hello?" He answers the phone, breathless. He takes this call as an his Christmas present, preparing to tell that sentiment to his boyfriend.
"Minnie," Yixing answers. His voice is slow and tired, and Minseok worries.
"Hello, Yixing," Minseok says again, a smile creeping across his face at being in contact with the man he's so deeply in love with. "How are you? It's been awhile."
"Yeah," Yixing answers, obviously distracted as his word choice answers nothing. "Listen, Minseok, I have something to tell you."
Minseok blinks, not expecting the sudden seriousness and sincerity of Yixing's voice. "Ok?" He prompts, "What is it?"
"Baby, if I can't-" Yixing cuts himself off, the only sound between the two of them the static from a military grade phone. "If I don't-" He stops again, and the desperate edge to his voice has panic blooming in Minseok's chest.
"Don't what?" Minseok can't stop himself from blurting it out, tears already beginning to burn behind his eyes. He can hear Yixing swallow. Another beat of silence follows. "Don't what?" Minseok demands again. Yixing takes a breath.
"I love you so much, Minseok," Yixing whispers. Minseok's heart constricts in his chest, simultaneously swelling with happiness and freezing in fear. "You have to know that." It's the first time Yixing has ever told him out loud, but Minseok knows. He's known all along how his boyfriend really feels about him. At this moment, Yixing's confession can't be met with a simple "I love you, too" from Minseok. The words pump through his veins, echo in his mind, but what comes out of his mouth speaks volumes of the situation.
"Yixing, you're scaring me," Minseok says, clutching his phone in white-knuckled grip. More static crackles over the line. Minseok chokes back a sob. "Baby?"
"Min, listen, I- I have to go," Yixing says, "I love you, alright? I do." Minseok presses his the back of his hand to his mouth, silencing the cries that threaten to escape.
Yixing's shuddering intake of breath reveals his unhappiness over Minseok's lack of response, but he says one last goodbye anyway.
"Merry Christmas, Minseok," Yixing says. He doesn't add "catch you on the flip side" or some other lame phrase from decade old movies. Instead, the line goes dead, and the dial tone starts up.
Minseok collapses to his knees and cries.
January 8, 2020 - Wednesday
Two weeks later the yellow postcard with the presidential seal and Yixing Zhang's name arrives. Minseok calls Luhan right away, already sobbing into the phone. Luhan reminds him that it's Wednesday, and he'll meet him at Cups.
Surprisingly, Minseok arrives first and places an order of two black coffees. He tortures himself and sits in the same seat he had taken when he'd met Yixing. Facing away from the front of the shop, he doesn't see Luhan come in. He feels his best friend's arms wrap around him first, feels his tears against his neck second. They cry together, maneuvering themselves into two seats side-by-side and burying their faces in the other's shoulders. When Luhan has calmed enough to wipe away his tears and for his voice to come out even, he pulls back, continuing to rub Minseok's back with his free hand as he takes the postcard from him.
"Minseok," he starts, then thinks better of it. "Oh, Minnie." He sets the postcard face down on the table, and snatches up a napkin instead. Ever so gently, he dabs at Minseok's face before handing him his coffee and urging him to drink some. Minseok does, his sad eyes reflected back to him in the dark liquid.
Minseok sets his mug down on top of the yellow postcard, trying to cover up the name of his lover. If he didn't already know the horror of the words written on the thick paper, he could almost mistake it for a napkin. He wants to pour his over the postcard, watch is disintegrate and stain under the influence of the hot drink, but he also doesn't want to let go of the proof of the man he loves. Slowly, he picks his coffee back up and takes three long gulps of the stuff if only to give himself something other than crying to do.
"Lu, I just-" Minseok sucks in a breath through his teeth. "I miss him." He buries his head in his arms. "So fucking much." Luhan's fingers close around his best friend's wrist.
"Come on, let's go," Luhan says, dropping money on the table to pay for both of their coffees. Minseok's mug was nearly empty; Luhan's was untouched as usual. For this, Minseok is grateful. At least something can stay the same even if he'll never look at the war with a neutral expression ever again. He needs some constants in his life.
Minseok pauses on their way out the door.
"Ah, wait." Luhan sighs as his friend takes a few steps backwards and returns to the table. He lifts his coffee mug and grabs the yellow paper from under it. He tucks it into his pocket and maneuvers back to Luhan's side.
"Ok," he whispers. "We can go." Leaning heavily on his friend for support, Minseok heads out of the coffee shop where he first met Yixing Zhang. He closes the door behind him in hopes of closing the gaping wound in his heart with it.
It bleeds harder.
When Minseok goes to bed that night, he traces his finger around the coffee stain shaped in a ring from the bottom of the mug he had set on it. It forms a perfect circle around Yixing's name. Minseok cries himself to sleep.
January 23, 2020 - Thursday
Two weeks and one day later Minseok wakes up one year ago.
January 23, 2019 - Wednesday
Minseok's phone rings just as he reaches his destination. He pulls it out of his pocket with cold fingers to read the caller's name. He sighs when he sees it's just his floor manager for his new exhibit. He had told the guy he wouldn't be available even for emergencies, so there's really no excuse for him to call. Then again, his floor manager probably wouldn't call when he had explicit orders not to if it wasn't a big deal. Minseok sighs before answering the call.
"Mitchell Kim speaking," he answers.
"Minseok-ssi," comes the response in flustered Korean, "I'm sorry to bother you, but-"
"Joonmyun," Minseok interrupts, "Calm down. I'll be there in half an hour." He hangs up promptly, mood spoiled. He dials Luhan's number as he raises a hand to hail a cab.
His best friend picks up on the second ring. "Hey baby," he jokes, "Where are you?"
"Ah, I'm sorry, Lu, but-" he pauses to slide into the cab that stopped for him, and relays the address of his exhibit's sight quickly, "Something came up with the exhibit. I'm going to have to cancel on you."
"Minseok!" Luhan whines. Minseok listens to the soft murmur of Mandarin that suddenly invades their conversation. He hears a noise of agreement from Luhan.
"Lu, is someone there?" Minseok asks.
"Huh?" Luhan says. Minseok can picture the two blinks he does whenever he has to suddenly switch languages. "Oh. Yeah. I brought a friend I'd like to introduce you to with me." Minseok feels a sudden crash of guilt spin in his belly. He shrugs it off.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Luhan, I could-"
"No, no," his best friend cuts him off, "I know this exhibit is a big deal so just do what you've got to do. You two can meet at another time." Minseok is thankful for Luhan's understanding and relays the sentiments to his friend before hanging up the phone. He glances back at the street right before the cab turns the corner and gets a glance of coffee shop's storefront.
At once, the most intense feeling of loss consumes Minseok; he bites his lip, unsure where the feeling came from.
February 4, 2019 - Monday
A few days before his exhibit opens, Minseok ushers Joonmyun out of the exhibit space, insisting on a few minutes alone with his work before opening night. Minseok closes the door behind his floor manager, assuring him that he'll be careful on his way home even though he knows Joonmyun will wait for his outside. He turns, closes his eyes, and breathes.
It's a ritual of his, a habit to check over the final placements of his paintings three days before opening. As he approves each area of his exhibit, he turns off the lights. Slowly, he progresses to the main hallway where the auction will be held, where the patrons will be served wine and champagne, where his centerpiece stands on stage under the most flattering lighting.
Minseok stands and stares. He breathes and stares harder. The most intense feeling of hate, of dispassion, of lies and unbelievable ignorance digs into his stomach like an arrow from an archer's bow. Minseok's hand clench into fists; the arrow twists. He feels his heart begin to bleed.
Filled with unexplainable rage and hurt, Minseok stalks forward toward Bliss, his eyes narrowed at his centerpiece. He traces his fingers over the lines, feels the imperfections in the pain over the canvas, and seethes. His fingers hook over the large frame surrounding the painting, and he pulls.
The artwork crashes to the ground. The wood frame splinters. The nails stick out from the shattered pieces. Minseok snatches one up and falls to his knees on top of the painting. The wood framing stretching the canvas tight has loosened; his body weight begins to tear the canvas. He stares at the hand clutches over the heart of his subject. He reaches behind him. His finger is sliced open on one of the nails that had held the display frame together. He grabs at the nail and brings it up to his face. He stares at it, watches the blood drip slowly from the tip of his middle finger to stain the silver of the nail. He looks back at the hand he had painted in gentle peach hues, at the tan skin of the subject's chest.
Lies.
He brings his hand down, stabbing the nail through the canvas and pulls. The canvas shreds under his touch. He pulls and pulls until the painting is nothing but strips of painted fabric, a puzzle that can no longer be put together. He'd caught the back of his other hand in his angry, rash motions, and his blood is streaked across the ruined painting.
Minseok pants harshly, his chest heaving.
The door opens again.
"Minseok-hyung?" A voice says in Korean. The soft tone makes Minseok's heart skip a beat, and he feels a sort of peace pass through him for a quick second, until the absolute rage comes back at the person's shout of shock.
"Minseok!" Joonmyun nearly screams, "What have you done?" The floor director rushes to Minseok's side, looking pained and slightly constipated as he steps gingerly on top of what was a masterpiece not five minutes ago. His eyes zero in on the blood dripping from Minseok's hands.
"Oh, you're hands!" He exclaims. He leans over and grasps at Minseok's shoulder. "C'mon, up you get." Minseok slowly, so slowly, unfolds his legs, bringing himself to his feet. "Let's get you to the hospital."
Minseok blinks. "What? why?"
Joonmyun does one of his sighs of long suffering before shaking Minseok's hand. A bit of his blood hits his face. "Your hand, Minseok! You probably need stitches." Minseok feels to numb, to shocked to respond, and he lets Joonmyun lead him to a cab, directing the driver to the nearby clinic. It's not until they're sitting in the waiting room that Minseok bothers to respond to Joonmyun's constant inquiries.
"You're exhibit is in three days," he's saying, "Why would you destroy Bliss? It's your centerpiece!"
Minseok doesn't meet his floor director's eyes as he answers him. "When I painted Bliss, idea was that love isn't necessary to have a fulfilled life." He blinks, and a lone tear trails over his right cheek. He wipes it away quickly and meets Joonmyun's confused eyes. "To never have loved, it may be blissful from ignorance, but wouldn't it be lonely as well?"
He presses his bloody hand to his heart, the red blooming on his white shirt like a red carnation. "Wouldn't it hurt like this?"
February 8, 2019 - Friday
"Minseok!"
The artist hears his name called jovially from behind him and he turns to see Luhan with his hand around some other man's forearm. He tugs a bit on his guest and together they approach Minseok. The artist thanks the people he is talking to and apologizes for cutting their conversation short.
"Hey, Luhan," he says, his speech pattern waning toward informal, "Who's this?"
"This is the friend I wanted you to meet a few weeks ago in Cups," Luhan says, "Ryan Zhang meet Mitchell Kim, affectionately known to the art world as Xiumin."
"Call me Minseok," the artist says, offering his hand to Luhan's friend.
"Yixing," the man responds in turn, "I'm a huge fan of your work. My mom sends me postcards with your stuff on them all the time."
Minseok blinks. "But Luhan's mom lives around here?"
"Oh," Yixing says, "I'm usually abroad. I'm in the Navy."
"My darling Captain," Luhan interjects, throwing an arm over Yixing's shoulders and rumpling his hair. Minseok laughs, always happy to see his best friend happy.
"Come along you two," Minseok says, already steering them toward the back of the exhibit where the lights shine brightly on his centerpiece, "I want your opinion on my latest." Yixing looks excited and intrigued, Luhan appearing like a proud parent. Minseok knocks his shoulder.
"This," Minseok introduces, "Is Heartless."
It had taken Minseok two all-nighters in a row and constant painting for nearly sixty hours to complete his new centerpiece, but he had done it. This time, he's created something that he's truly proud of, something that he knows with a certainty he can't explain that will be praised highly by critics.
He waves his hand in a grand gesture, sweeping it out to display his masterpiece (he calls it that with undying conviction). Luhan smiles widely instantly, a steady support for Minseok and his endeavors as the artist Xiumin. He bursts immediately into praise, his tongue tripping over itself as he throws around artistic terms he really knows nothing about. Minseok thanks his best friend, clinking their wine glasses together.
Luhan then nudges Yixing, asking for his opinion. Minseok watches with a feeling of misplaced deja vu as Yixing worries his lower lip thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed to assess the small details and widened to take in the entire image without focus. He blinks a few times.
"I really like it," he says simply. He offers Minseok a smile, "This is easily one of your best works. The colors and the message...everything." He pulls out his phone timidly. "Can I take a picture of it?" Minseok gives him permission without a second thought even though pictures are forbidden within the gallery. Yixing is polite and doesn't use his flash, and if not for the high price tag this piece will surely go for in the auction, Minseok would let him have this one. Something about his work reminds him of the man he's just met- it may be the uncanny resemblance between Yixing and the subject of his painting. His easy praise of it only adds to the feeling.
"Thank you," Minseok says, he words more earnest than he's ever said them. Yixing smiles; Luhan beams.
"Ok," Luhan says, coming up to drape an arm over Minseok's shoulders, "Since we were so nice about your shit, you can buy us drinks. I want that expensive Merlot. The 2012? You should get it for me..." The man continues to chatter as he leads Minseok towards the bar. Yixing follows them, and for a brief moment, Minseok's heart feels completely full.
March 17, 2019 - Sunday
Chili's-to-go is Minseok's Sunday treat for himself. He doesn't make it every month, but when he does, he considers it a good month. Today he's celebrating the success of his exhibit (his bank account is praising the extra few zeros added in) with a cheeseburger and fries.
"Hey, are you...Mitchell?" An extremely familiar but implacable voice says from Minseok's left. He turns his head to see Luhan's friend. He wracks his brain for a name. Yixing. His heart protests. Call me Minseok! Minseok refuses to ask that of the other man- he barely knows him!
"Yixing?" He asks in return, "It's Yixing, right?"
"Yeah," the other man says, "I just saw you and thought I should say hi."
"Ah," Minseok manages, nearly coughing from the urge to just grab the other man in his arms, "Hello, then. How've you been recently?"
Yixing shrugs. "Been good. Got my stitches out." Minseok blinks, an image of scar tissue crossing beautiful pale skin entering his mind unbidden.
"Oh, the grenade. Right." he says. A worker then steps out, two bags of food in her hands.
"Mitch?" She reads, "Ryan?"
"That's me," both men respond. The girl looks a bit confused, but hands off the food before scurrying back inside to the warmth of the restaurant. There's a moment of silence before Yixing clears his throat.
"Well, I should get going but it was nice to see you," he says, dropping a hand on Minseok's shoulder for a mere second. Minseok let's out some type of agreement, but all he really wants it for Yixing's hand to stay there on his shoulder where it belongs. He shakes his head free of his ridiculous thoughts and moves to put his food in his car.
Minseok straightens and stares at the back of Yixing's car (Luhan's, actually. He must have borrowed it) as he drives away with furrowed brows. For some reason, he feels as if his insides are being taken away with the car's driver. It's strange and unpleasant.
June 12, 2019 - Wednesday
It's Wednesday, and Luhan has brought Yixing with him. He smiles apologetically at Minseok, but Minseok doesn't mind. In fact, he's kind of awed by the happiness that radiates from his best friend.
It's makes him feel happy too, until he looks at Yixing for a second too long. All of a sudden, he's assaulted by the most horrific twinge of jealousy and the gaping loneliness that accompanies the sudden emptiness in his chest. He's been feeling this way too often recently, and it makes him feel angry. The coloring in his cheeks alerts Luhan that something is wrong, and he inquires about it gently, his hand not resting on Yixing's thigh coming up to wipe at the furrow between Minseok's eyebrows.
"I'm fine," Minseok gets out, forcing his voice to be pleasant. Luhan gives him a dubious look. Minseok stutters. "I-I'm serious! I've been, uh, working really hard on some new paintings. My thoughts are kind of with them." This is a lie, of course. Minseok hasn't felt an ounce of creativity since his past exhibit.
Luhan nods in understanding, satisfied. He leans back, settling against Yixing, and Minseok has to restrain himself from growling.
He wants Luhan to be happy, he does. It's just that his heart apparently doesn't want to be the only one alone between the two of them or something like that. He blinks, coming back to Luhan telling him a story about Sergeant Whiles. Somehow, the image of a tall man with a bald head and slight goatee pops into Minseok's head. He glances at Yixing again, and chooses to forcefully laugh along with Luhan's tale and ignore the unsettled rolling in his gut.
October 21, 2019 - Monday
Minseok's rinsing his paintbrushes, setting aside the ones that need to be replaced, when his phone stars to blare his ringtone. He dries his hands quickly.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Mitch," Luhan's voice answers, "Can you do me a favor?" Minseok presses the phone a little closer to his ear.
"Umm, depends," he says, "What's up?"
Luhan laughs a little, "I'm at the airport. Can you pick me up?"
"Right now?"
Another laugh, this one sheepish and tinged with sadness. "Yeah. Right now." Minseok glances at the clock. He's got two hours before Joonmyun arrives to assess his latest collection.
"Yeah," he answers, "I'm on my way right now."
"Thanks, man," Luhan responds. "See you soon. I'll be waiting at terminal two, ok?"
"Sure," Minseok says, making a mental note, "I'll honk at you. Bye." Luhan returns the sentiment and hangs up. When Minseok gets to the airport, he greeted by the saddest, loneliest expression on Luhan's face, not the bright man he's used to seeing. He asks what's bothering him, asks why Luhan is even at the airport, but it's a few long moments before Luhan answers.
"He had to go back," Luhan says, "It's his duty."
"When will he be back?" Minseok asks, sliding into the left turn lane to get back on the interstate. Luhan sighs.
"There's no date, really," he answers, his voice already tinged with longing, "He's a Captain, you know? They need him." He laughs humorlessly. "The next time he comes home will either be when the war ends or he's injured again." He fiddles with his phone. "I don't want him hurt, but..." He trails out.
"I get it," Minseok says, "If he was injured and had to come home, you'd be glad to see him."
"Isn't that an awful thought?" Luhan says. Minseok shrugs and doesn't answer. He's too busy trying to solve the empty feeling in his chest.
January 8, 2020 - Wednesday
Minseok wakes Wednesday morning to five new text messages, each from Luhan demanding his presence at Cups. Minseok smiles despite the awful sense of foreboding starting to take over his senses. He stuffs a few dollars in his pocket along with his phone and keys before heading out the door.
Minseok steps into the coffee shop at ten o'clock on the dot. As usual, Luhan is has arrived earlier than him, two cups of steaming black coffee already in place.
"Hey, Lu- hey, what's wrong?" Minseok's cheery tune drops immediately as he takes in the slope and slight shake of his best friend's shoulders. He hears a hitch in his friend's breath. Minseok drops into the seat next to Luhan, one hand coming up to rest between his shoulder blades. "Luhan."
His best friend doesn't answer; instead, he throws himself into Minseok's arms and cries against his shoulder. It takes awhile, but Luhan finally calms enough to whisper a question Minseok can't possibly answer.
"Why do bad things happen to good people?" His voice is hoarse, and Minseok can only run his fingers through Luhan's hair.
"I don't know, Lu," he says. "Why?" Luhan's fingers fumble through his jeans' pocket to pull out a neatly folded yellow postcard. Although he's never seen one before, Minseok knows exactly what it is.
"Oh, Luhan," he whispers because that's really all he can say.
"I keep trying to hide it from myself," Luhan says. "I'll put it somewhere I can't see it, but then it's all I can think about." He closes his eyes, and a few more tears slip down his cheeks. "I'm just overwhelmingly sad."
Minseok holds his tongue, continuing to hold Luhan close to himself. It's a few minutes later when his best friend speaks again, his voice so shattered that Minseok feels pieces of his own glass heart crack against his ribcage.
"I just miss him," Luhan murmurs.
It's these words that answer the question Minseok had asked himself so many months ago in this same coffee shop. "Oh, I see," he whispers, "You were in love with him." Luhan freezes, holding his breath, and then nods. He breaks down into fresh tears, even as he holds silent the sobs that wrack his body.
"At least he died with honor," Minseok says, forcing a smile onto his face. "Isn't that the American Dream?"
Luhan's tears pause, anger marring his pretty features, "Oh, fuck you, Minseok." He shakes his head. "Really, just fuck you. How dare you joke about his death."
"I don't know what else to say, Lu!" Minseok returns, "I guess I just thought I could cheer you up or something." The last words of his sentence trail out, sounding ridiculous even to himself.
"By making light of the situation?" Luhan accuses. The pain is raw in his voice, and Minseok can practically hear the question Luhan's not asking him. Don't you care? He does care, really, he does. It's just that these past few months, he's felt so hollow. Sometimes he thinks he's forgetting how to feel, but it's no excuse for failing to comfort his best friend.
"Seriously, Minseok," Luhan says, voice incredulous and eyes pitying. "It's like you've never noticed your heart before." He stands and wipes furiously at his eyes before zipping up his wind-breaker. He's angry and upset and hurt. Minseok can't do anything for him.
Luhan leaves his coffee behind like he always does. Minseok will eternally wonder why he buys it when he hates it - refuses to even have the beans in his house for his friends.
Underneath the coffee mug is a yellow postcard with the presidential seal. Minseok pulls it from underneath the cream ceramic carefully, smoothing out the creases with the fingers. There's a circular coffee stain dead center of the yellow postcard circling around a name that Minseok doesn't know well. A painful lurch in his chest tells him otherwise. He traces the pattern of the words with his fingers. He doesn't stumble even once in his tracing, his muscles somehow familiar with the pattern of the foreign name.
Yixing "Ryan" Zhang.
There's no explanation for it, but Minseok breaks down and cries.
[Author's Note (click to open!)]Author's Note:
- to my darling recipient, i hope this fits what you wanted! i don't know how this many words ended up in this...but i hope you feel a little bit spoiled! i loved your prompts, but this one really got to me. please enjoy it :) [yixing in uniform, yes please.]
- beautiful beta tomato, this would have been a mess and a half without you listening to me for countless minutes on the phone as i wailed about plot points and word counts. thank you for catching my stupid grammar mistakes and constantly reminding me that heal and heel are totally different words. (i forbid you from correcting any grammar in my author notes, bitch.) nobody knows where we really are...i've never been this lost before...hahahahahaha!
- fabulous asst. manager t-paul, i hope you read this and remember there is a boy out there for you, honey. thank you for all the inside info on gay relationships. i apologize that none of it made it into this fic. please throw away your basketball shorts and tell master h to give us more hours together! <3
- ma biche, may you read this and let us experience awkward eye contact across our room while you do. #roomies4lyfe
- title from Halestorm's "Break In"
- note to self: never again write a legitimate laundry scene. unless it's sex on the spin cycle, just let it go~~ let it go~~