Home is Where the Heart Takes Wing ( 1/3 )
Title: Home is Where the Heart Takes Wing
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Lu Han/Minseok
Side Pairings: brief mentions of the following: Kris/Jessica, Suho/Sulli, Zhou Mi/Liyin, Chanyeol/unnamed female, Lu Han/female OC
Warnings: language, alcohol, brief mentions of OCs
Length: 24,168
Summary: "What exactly do you want from me?" Lu Han sounds confused. A lot of things, Minseok doesn't say with his lips, though his eyes are probably giving away volumes more than he ever intended for Lu Han to read there.
A/N: Super thanks to my team leader ailiblue and all my lovely teammates, and especially to my beta, rjaejoo!
“So, any plans for The Holidays coming up?”
Minseok snorts softly into his drink. The way Lu Han says ‘the holidays’ makes it sound like he’s some broadcasting announcer on TV trying to sell joy and cheer like candy canes. Like consumable commodities.
“I suppose I’ll see what everyone else is up to. And then see what I feel up to.” Minseok shrugs. The ice in his whiskey clinks against the glass.
“That sounds like a passive way to celebrate.” Lu Han leans back a little, hitching one shoulder into an awkward question mark as he side eyes Minseok.
Minseok doesn’t give into the conversational bait, though. He wasn’t trying to be cryptic to encourage Lu Han to weasel the answers out of him. What he said is what he meant.
Holidays always leave him feeling a little… off. Not exactly homesick but with an unsettled feeling between his shoulder blades winding around his spinal column to slip icy fingers of distress into his gut. The way he feels when he knows he's forgetting something, something important, but he can't figure out what.
“We just have different kinds of fun, is all. I get that. Sorta.” Lu Han’s smile isn’t sad. You might think the twinge that jerks at his lips looks mournful if you didn’t know better, but Minseok does. Minseok knows too many things about Lu Han. Especially what his smile looks like when he gets nostalgic.
If you bet Minseok another finger of whiskey, he’d wager Lu Han is remembering the first time they met right now. It’s an anecdote Lu Han likes to bring up in conversation, especially when introducing Minseok to one of his acquaintances. They met at one of Jongdae’s parties when Lu Han overheard Minseok say he didn’t understand the appeal of theme parks and amusement rides. Lu Han’s jaw had dropped in in an offended gasp of shock, and he called Minseok boring.
Boring, Minseok recalls, watching Lu Han jabber on about his new girlfriend as he swirls the melting ice in his glass. They’ve had plenty of time together since then for Lu Han to discover how true that fact is, at least by popular definition of the word. Minseok feels the same about holiday “fun” the way he feels about thrill rides--they’re nice in concept but harrowing in experience.
Not that he feels like he's missing out on the fun. He enjoys spending special days with his friends, not to mention the fact he gets to celebrate two sets of holidays: Christmas and the Lunar New Year, Thanksgiving and the Moon Festival.
That's part of the problem, though. It’s twice as many occasions for him to feel irrationally blase about and too emotionally off balance to cover it up well in front of his friends. The resulting pressure--feeling like he needs to keep a smile on his face to not disturb anyone else's enjoyment with his gloom--makes Minseok cranky. He gets more snappish than he used to after a finals week of all-nighters, and it always makes Lu Han pissed at him.
“So yeah,” Lu Han’s bemused laugh cuts into Minseok’s thoughts, and Minseok low key hates the sparkle in his eyes that glints off his martini glass. “You remember what she told me when I got back from hiking the Adirondacks? I told you about that time, right?”
Oh yeah. He’s still talking about his new girlfriend. No wonder his eyes are lit up like an overloaded Christmas tree,> Minseok thinks. Lu Han's dating a soft spoken white girl from the Midwest. Minseok can't remember the name of the town, it's so mundane and as boring as the cornfields it's no doubt surrounded by.
"You told me about her, yeah. Some girl from Cornville, USA."
"She's from the Akron area," Lu Han says, a frown sliding down his features to dip into his glass as he takes another sip. "Akron's an industrial city. They don't grow corn there."
Minseok is too drunk to care but he apologizes anyway out of habit, mumbling that he's sorry, fuck Akron but sorry, until Lu Han tells him to stop in a quiet voice, balancing a hand on one of Minseok's slumped shoulders.
His touch is light, and Minseok leans up into it instinctively, reaching for a caress he can't seem to come by honestly.
⋙⋙⋙
“Happy Halloween!”
“Hi.” Minseok finds a bookmark in his coffee table drawer, some souvenir from the Beijing Botanical Gardens printed with tulips and a panda. Minseok is pretty sure that the pandas in Beijing all stay at the zoo, but he uses the ridiculous illustration anyway. He’s never thrown out a gift from a friend before, at least not one from Lu Han.
“Are you out clubbing? Popping some tootsie rolls on the dance floor?”
“Lu Han…” Minseok drops his novel to his chest, eyeing his date for his literary evening at home with a mournful gaze. He’s not sure what mental image that suggestive pun about chocolate candy chews was supposed to inspire, and he’s not sure he wants to know. “If I were at a club right now I doubt you could hear me over the appalling racket. You’re not--” drunk, are you? Minseok stops himself from saying. Please don’t be drunk dialing me, Lu.
If it were anyone else--Jongdae, or Tao, even--he’d just hang up and maybe take the battery out of his phone. But with Lu Han…Call him a sap for giving in to nostalgia, but Minseok indulges Lu Han more than any of his other friends. It’s probably because they were roommates for so many years. At this point Minseok is just used to taking care of his friend when he’s drunk, whether he likes it or not.
“Guess where I am?”
Lu Han doesn’t sound drunk. His voice is just lazy with relaxation, velvet hums between honey tinged words, Minseok realizes with a relieved sigh. “I…have no idea, Han. Are you going to tell me, or is this a game where you torture me by making me guess without any hard data to draw upon?”
“Torture you!” Lu Han’s laugh is lazy too, low in his throat like he’s just waking up in the morning.
Maybe it is morning, Minseok thinks, wherever he is right now.
“Minseokkie, I thought I told you where I was going next before I got on the plane! Don’t you ever check Facebook?”
“Not really.” Minseok doesn’t bother to apologize about it this time. He’s done feeling sorry for a decision that has made his web surfing a much more enjoyable pastime.
“Ah, well I’m in Thailand. More specifically!” Lu Han says, his voice brightening like the smile Minseok knows must be plastered on his dumb, ugly face, “I’m at a massage parlor!”
“Good for you.” Minseok checks the clock. It’s only 9:18PM, a measly four and a half minutes since he answered Lu Han’s call and far too early to claim that it’s past his bedtime. This is when Minseok envies his friends with romantic attachments.
The only time a serious relationship is worth the inconvenience is using it to get out of other inconveniences, as Jongdae is fond of saying. And right now Minseok wishes he could fake an incoming call from his significant other so he won’t be tempted to lie here on his sofa and listen to the ramblings of his more-significant-than-he’ll-admit-to friend/person/jerk face, also known as Lu fucking Han.
“Have you ever been to a Thai style massage place? They do this tantric stuff--and no, don’t snort at me, it has nothing to do with sex--”
“Lu Han--” Minseok is cringing on his friend’s behalf, imagining with horror the image of Lu Han chatting on the phone in Korean while some poor Thai girl or man or grandmother works the knots out of his back and eavesdrops. The only words they’re likely to understand are the English ones. Like sex.
“It’s this stretching technique! And I think it has something to do with temples and religion, but I’m not really sure, all I know is--ohhh!” He lets out a low groan that vibrates like a kitten purr in his throat and heads straight down Minseok’s spine to his groin. “All I know is, it feels good!” He finishes the thought with another soft moan of pleasure.
“Maybe you should, I don’t know, relax and enjoy your massage instead of letting me distract you,” Minseok snaps, seconds away from ending the call without a proper goodbye.
“Oh, you’re not distracting me! Hearing a familiar voice from home just adds to the relaxing ambience.”
“Have you ever thought about the fact that I do not exist on this earth for your convenience or relaxation?” Minseok is trying hard, he’s really trying to keep control of his temper. It’s difficult though when his blood pressure keeps rising with every breathy hum that echoes from Lu Han’s lips and across the distance into Minseok’s very sensitive ear.
“I’m sorry! If you were busy, you should have--oooh!”
Minseok is done, he is so done. He cuts Lu Han off with a huff as he poises his thumb above the end call button. “Have fun in Phuket, Lu Han!”
Ok, so maybe Minseok happened to be checking backed up Facebook notifs the day Lu Han posted his travel itinerary for October and he knew in the back of his mind Lu Han was in Thailand this week. He just didn’t remember that fact at the beginning of their conversation. Anger helps Minseok recall the pesky details that float away on streams of apathy to the distant edges of his consciousness more often than not. Right. That’s the only reason he remembered where Lu Han is staying this weekend.
Minseok slides his silent phone back onto the coffee table and picks up his book again. He flips to the page where he left off, scoffing indignantly at the dumb, ugly face of the smiling panda on his bookmark. He makes a mental note to set his phone ringer to silent the next time he sits down for a relaxing evening with a book.
Tantric massage isn’t sexual? My ass.
⋘⋘⋘
"You look...tired." Jongdae punches Minseok in shoulder, but not hard enough to hurt. He's holding a red solo cup of overly sweetened tea, and Minseok is grateful he had the foresight to avoid jostling him and giving both of them a bath with it.
"Is that a nice way of putting it that you think I look miserable."
"Is that a question, or...? Are you just convinced that's what I meant and nothing I say will change your mind?" Jongdae blinks, long lashes casting shadows of innocence across his features. Minseok doesn't fall for it.
"Don't push it, Dae. You know I hate--"
"Holidays and festivities and your loving friends, right. I remember now." Jongdae wraps his arms around Minseok's shoulder, clinging to his side as he drops a kiss to the side of his neck just to be a jerk.
Minseok shakes him off, grateful that Jongdae at least is a match for his size. It's harder to elbow away someone the size of, say, Lu Han. "You know I don't actually hate my friends. Even little shits like you."
"Ah, I'm so flattered, hyung!" Jongdae says, switching to Korean as he hip checks Minseok with an evil wink. He slides away into the crowd to go pester Yixing before Minseok can haul him back for some retribution.
That leaves Zhou Mi on this side of the room for Minseok to make forced small talk with.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Minseokkie!" Zhou Mi raises his cup, a real glass tumbler from Joonmyun's kitchen cabinet instead of the disposable plastic ones most of the guests are carrying around. Minseok is cradling a to-go coffee cup from Seattle's Best in his hands. It's gotten cold, but even lukewarm the store bought americano is better than the weak brew getting bitter in Joonmyun's kitchen coffee maker.
"Thanks, ge," Minseok replies in Korean, relieved Zhou Mi isn't pressuring him into practicing his Chinese today. Their circle of friends mostly sticks to English and Korean at their private get togethers. Minseok does try to brush up on his Mandarin with some of his native speaker friends from time to time, but only when he's in the mood. Today Minseok is too tired to string together a long sentence in any language, native or not.
"Where's Lu Han today? You didn't drive out together?"
"Nah. He's not in town." Minseok drops his gaze to the coffee stain on the lid of his disposable cup. Of course he's not planning to reuse the thin plastic cover, but the sight of the permanent stain on the mouth hole bothers him. He covers the dried on coffee mark with his thumb before looking back up at his friend.
"Ooh, off jet setting again? Our young world traveller!" Zhou Mi's eyes crinkle up as he raises his beer mug to his lips. "Where is he photographing now?"
"I don't make a point of keeping track of his schedule, so I wouldn't exactly know." Minseok almost flinches at the surprised flash that crosses Zhou Mi's eyes and transitions into subtle disappointment. "But the last I heard," he continues with a sigh, "Lu was in southern Italy for some kind of beef slaughtering festival. But don't ask me anymore than that because I honestly don't know."
"Ok!" Zhou Mi shrugs. His smile is as cheerful as his bumblebee yellow sweater. The color would give Minseok a headache in harsher lighting, but fortunately Joonmyun understands taste and keeps the ambiance softened with helium bulbs in the spotlights overheard. "Did you try Jongin's oven roasted spinach dip, by the way? Because you should if you haven't! Even Kyu swears it's the best he's tried.”
"No, I haven't. But thank you for the recommendation; I'll have to go try some right now." Minseok gives Zhou Mi a grateful smile and doesn’t remind his friend that he actually hates spinach dip. Anything with spinach in general, really, but Minseok is glad for the excuse to slip off and wander through the quiet kitchen for a glass of water from the tap.
He finds himself outside on the deck a few minutes later. Not that there's anything (or anyone) out there that drew his attention in particular , but it's no better or worse than the dim lighting of the kitchen. Joonmyun's sink is a mountain of unsanitary dishes. At least his backyard is tidied, the last of the fallen leaves raked into slimy piles under the dripping trees.
Jongdae is out back, tending to the grill with Baekhyun and Amber while Kyuhyun babysits the turkey fryer with a can of Budweiser in one hand and a meat thermometer in the other. Typical holiday scene, same as the last four Thanksgivings that Minseok has celebrated with his friends. Joonmyun finished university the same year as Minseok and Lu Han did, though he moved out to the county when he landed a lucrative accounting position while the others stayed in Manhattan to work.
The only differences from this Thanksgiving to last year are a few adjustments to the guest list. Besides Lu Han, also missing are Kris and Jessica, still on their honeymoon in Cancun, as well as Zhou Mi's partner Liyin who opted to eat cranberry sauce on the sofa in the comfort of her own home.
Minseok doesn't blame her. If he had as socially acceptable of an excuse as being nine months pregnant, he would have stayed home too. But of course Joonmyun just had to call him the night before and make sure he was still coming and bringing the cucumber kimchi. Minseok also has a hard time saying no to Joonmyun, especially when his other former roommate so innocently guilt trips him about contributing to the smorgasbord. (No one's cucumber kimchi is as good as Minseok's heirloom recipe, not even Jessica Jung-Wu's, and he intends to keep the reputation slanted that way.)
"We're at the start of yet another lonely holiday season, eh Min?" Yixing slings an arm over Minseok's shoulder. His thumb taps out a rhythm on the neck of his Miller Lite, probably the bass line to some track he's engineering in the sound studio this week. Minseok shivers under the weight of his loose embrace but doesn't shrug him off.
"I'm sorry for your loss if you feel that way. But I'm fine, ge. Business as usual. Life goes on."
This makes Yixing laugh. The point of his elbow grazes Minseok's spine as he shifts in place. "Why does that sound like a eulogy? Did you just dump someone? Or did they just dump you?" His voice is low and teasing but Minseok reads the concern in his tone. He turns to face Yixing with a bemused smile.
"No, I haven't dated anyone--"
"In months," Baekhyun finishes for him, waving the barbecue tongs to emphasize his statement. "Or has it been years, hyung, since your last hook up?"
"Hook ups are not the same thing as dating, Byun Baek." Minseok shakes his head, grateful for Yixing's squeeze of encouragement warming his shoulder. "You of all bastards should know that."
"Ooohh, burrrnn!" Jongdae yells, and throws a handful of briquettes on the low burning flames in the pit of the grill.
"Knock it off." Baekhyun headbutts Jongdae out of reach of the grill before he can completely extinguish the fire by adding too much charcoal at once. "And put some gloves on before you touch that black stuff or I'll tell Joonmyun hyung on you!"
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me!"
Amber tsks loudly and grabs them both by the scruff of their necks (or by their sweatshirt hoods, as is the case). Minseok is too used to their nonsense to laugh. Yixing is howling hard enough for the both of them, anyway. He drops his arm from it's perch on Minseok's shoulders as a swig of his beer splatters onto Joonmyun's brand new cedar deck.
Minseok looks around for the roll of paper towels he knows must be floating around in the vicinity of the grill. He finds it in Jinri's hands when he turns to scan the yard behind him. She tears off a panel and wads it into an absorbent pad before handing the roll off to Minseok.
"No, no! I got this, don't bother." She holds up a hand to keep him and Yixing from dropping to their knees to help her wipe up the mess. "I read somewhere, I think on Pinterest actually, that if you mop a hardwood deck with beer it's supposed to help season the wood."
"Oh really?" Yixing mumbles against the mouth of his bottle, probably embarrassed for spilling his refreshments on Joonmyun's newly installed pride and joy. "Sounds like a waste of beer to me!"
"Haha! Maybe so." Jinri shakes her hair out of her eyes as she gets to her feet with the dirty pile of towels in her fist. "But either way, it shouldn't matter any. Myun put some kind of sealant on here that keeps the wood moisture resistant."
"That's good!" Yixing whisks the soggy paper towels out of her hands before she can protest. "Allow me to dispose of that for you, milady!"
Jinri giggles, whacking him on the back for his shameless flirting as he escapes. Out of any of his friends, Yixing's the one Minseok thought would get married first. He’s been single longer than Minseok, though. Maybe he just hasn't found the right girl.
"It's been awhile." Jinri gives Minseok a wink. He takes a gulp of cold coffee, breath catching in his throat hard enough to choke him because he knows what's coming next. "Have you found a nice girl yet? Or anyone on your mind these days?"
"Oh, I sure have a lot on my mind." He pauses, savoring the surprised lift of her eyebrows before he continues. "If you want to hear all about the business merger our division is overseeing at work, I'd be more than happy to fill you in on all the details."
"Oppa!" She bats at his shoulder the way she slapped at Yixing. "You know that's not what I meant!"
"Oh? Sorry." Of course he knew. Minseok hates talking about work outside of the office. He's not at liberty to reveal details of the merger anyway, even if he wanted to waste his breath on that sort of inanity in front of a willing audience.
"I think you must be dating someone and just keeping it a secret from all of us."
"That's not it at all." He shakes his head, frowning a little when Jongdae looks over in interest.
"Yeah, leave hyung alone, Jinri. If he has a someone someone," Jongdae says with an obnoxious wriggle of his eyebrows, "I doubt he’d be the type to inform us of the change in his relationship status via Facebook."
"You got that right."
Jinri shrugs, the lace collar on her thick wool cardigan flouncing against her breast. Maybe it's meant as an apology. Maybe she just doesn't know how to stop flirting even when Joonmyun's not in the room to grin at her with that insipid smile of his.
Minseok wipes his hands on his jeans even though he isn’t the one with spilled lager sticky on his palms. He wishes he could go back to the kitchen to wash his hands again but Jinri would probably trail him back into the house and pester him with more questions about his herb garden or the weather or Manhattan or even--god forbid--Lu Han.
So he just waits for her to excuse herself from the crowd on the deck and sidles a bit closer to the warmth of the grill. Jongdae is standing the closest to the heat source now that Baekhyun has disappeared to who knows where, but he's shivering in his shoes. He must have decided to leave the house in a cotton hoodie and a pair of shorts today because he's crazy.
Kyungsoo, at least, came prepared. He's in a heavy black parka and navy corduroy slacks, the velveteen worn at the knees and faded to a powder blue shade. He's leaning on the railing of the deck with a cigarette dangling from his ink stained fingers. Once again Minseok wishes he had the audacity to give cancer warnings on tobacco labels the middle finger and pick up the habit. It would be the perfect excuse to escape the hubbub of a party for a few moments. Or to end unpleasant and unwarranted phone calls at 9:18 PM at night.
He sighs, reaching for his phone in his back pocket when it vibrates. Minseok is at least grateful he lives in the smartphone age, era of instant knowledgification and constant distraction. He only has one new notification. It's an Instagram update from luhandinhand.
It looks like some surreal photo shoot from a European fashion publication, though Lu Han's faded cargo shorts and hand tie dyed tee can hardly be compared to haute couture. Lu Han himself, however, looks like a work of art. His toned arms glow milky clean against the tawny fur and midnight stripes of the half grown tiger he's hugging, spooning its regal back under the spangled shade of some kind of palm tree.
In northern Thailand three weeks ago, the caption reads, This Thanksgiving I'm grateful for everyone who supports Four Corners Travel Wonders, Inc., giving me the chance to do what I love everyday! Wishing you a restful holiday with your loved ones from my current post in Genoa. --L.
"Ooh! Is that a text from Lu ge?" Jongdae snaps his sooty tongs in the direction of Minseok's S-Note 4 until he relinquishes the phone out of fear for its life.
"Just an Instagram update on his official account." Minseok shrugs. The flames glow hot beneath the crooked rows of hotdogs and veggie burgers Jongdae's neglecting to ogle Lu Han's cuddle session with an overgrown cat. It assuages his jealousy a bit knowing Jongdae assumed Lu Han had texted him directly, though it bothers Minseok to realize he cares in the first place.
"You must miss him a lot, huh, ever since he moved out."
"I dunno." Minseok scratches at a bit of adhesive on the back of the lighter fluid can. "He moved out of our apartment because he was never home, once he started travelling full time. It only made sense."
"Yeah," Jongdae nods, bobbing his head in agreement. "Not saying it isn't efficient the way you guys got it worked out now, but it just seems...I dunno… Lonely."
Way to rub it in, bastard, Minseok doesn't say. He just stares in silence at the withered mums in the flowerbeds around the edge of the house as Kyuhyun stares back at him from behind the polarized lenses of his expensive sunglasses.
"You should talk to Lu Han ge, hyung." Jongdae's hand is warm on his shoulder, just for a moment, and Minseok wonders why he feels like crying all of a sudden. "If you miss him that much, just tell him."
"Yeah," Minseok whispers and fans the charcoal smoke away from his burning eyes.
⋙⋙⋙
The next Instagram update Lu Han posts that Minseok actually bothers to check happens nearly a month later. Lu Han is somewhere in South America, Bolivia or Botswana or wherever the ancient Incan ruins Minseok barely remembers from his eighth grade geography textbook happen to be located.
Scraping the clouds up here at the entrance to heaven! #MachuPicchu #WinterSolstice2015 #FourCornersTravel
The next photo, uploaded at the same time, is a gag filter. Minseok's neglected account is tagged in the frame, the main reason he bothered to open the phone app during his rushed dinner break. Minseok scrolls through the notifs and chokes on a spear of baby corn when he passes the tagged photo on his timeline.
It's a selfie of Lu Han and two llamas. Lu Han is being ridiculous as usual, straining his head up until the veins in his neck bulge in unattractive definition. He's pretending to bite the ear of a beige and brown spotted llama, while the dark haired llama on the far right of the pic is the real reason Minseok's blood pressure spikes through the roof. (It has nothing to do with the sodium saturated Chinese takeout he just gulped down in ten minutes, not at all.)
Minseok's face is photoshopped into the frame, obliterating the long lashed eyes and llama snout of the animal. The texture blending on the hair isn't too shabbily done. At least Lu Han picked a photo of Minseok with his natural hair color that merges smoothly into the dark shade of the llama's coat.
The rest of the photo, however, is a nightmare. The pic of Minseok Lu Han decided to broadcast to the world (literally the world, Minseok thinks in horror, staring at the thousands of likes the official post has garnered in a few short hours) is a very candid snapshot from sophomore year. Minseok's eyes bug out like a tropical insect and his jaw is stretched to its full volume in an open mouthed expression of shock.
It is probably the only photo of Minseok with proportions that would cover the long faced snout of the llama that Lu Han had handy on his phone, but still. That doesn't make this ok. And Lu Han didn't even bother to ask permission first, Minseok realizes with a seething snarl. He stuffs the last mushroom cap from his paper carton of mixed vegetables between his teeth and gets up with a huff.
"Friends do not post embarrassing photos of their friends," he repeats to himself as he wets his toothbrush in the sink of the office bathroom. "Especially not in public. Especially not in the global spotlight!"
He proceeds to scrub his teeth clean with the force of all the vengeance humming in his veins, until he can taste a hint of metallic behind the mint of his extra spearmint toothpaste, because that's all he can do. He's due upstairs to facilitate a board meeting in six minutes and has no time to deal with the drama going down on Instagram right now.
Minseok sets his phone to level 1 vibrate as he stomps to the elevator. This way he can keep tabs on how many interactions he's being notified of from the buzzing in his pocket without looking, but it won't be loud enough to disturb the meeting. This is an important meeting after all. The legal representatives for both sides of the merger will be present today. It's vital that Minseok keep calm and professional under the tight band of his starched shirt collar, no matter how late this meeting runs into overtime.
He pauses outside the conference room doors to take a deep breath and pushes inside to greet the board of directors and the officials from the other party. You can do this, Minseok. You got this. Just smile, focus, be eloquent. The same stuff you do every day. This pep talk calms him down enough to make it through introductions and opening pleasantries with a calm smile fixed in place.
It soon becomes apparent, however, that leaving his phone on vibrate was perhaps not his wisest decision of the evening. Or possibly of the decade. The buzzing is near constant, a ceaseless reminder of his public humiliation searing into the sensitive flesh of his thigh like a brand.
By the end of the first hour Minseok's concentration is shot. Nearing the end of the third hour, the irritation against his leg is making him irrationally cranky in addition to his base layer of righteous furor. By the time the meeting finally breaks up, well after 9:00PM, Minseok is just exhausted by it all and it's a wonder his phone battery hasn't given up the ghost by now.
As soon as he makes it out of the conference room Minseok veers towards the nearest men's room down the hall. He plunks down on the lid of the toilet in one of the empty stalls, phone in hand to murder Lu Han for the hours of humiliation he's just endured. Of course Lu Han had to post it during work hours, when Minseok wasn't able to get online to defend his honor, or to even screech in rage at his stuffed hedgehog in the privacy of his bedroom.
He starts typing out a text message as fast as his fingers will fly.
--What is that hideous thing on your official insta and why is my face on it.
--hideous? what's hideous? kk ^^ all I see is a cute baozipaca!
--a what
--lu han wtf!
--baozipaca! baozi + alpaca
--why didn’t you tag Kris, or even Amber? why me?
--I thought it was cute!
--I have nothing, I repeat NOTHing to do with alpacas! they are not my spirit animal.
Minseok's hands are shaking so badly against the toilet paper dispenser where his wrists are propped that he's starting to mistype things. And of course the typos just cast him further into the pool of anger and self loathing he’s drowning in.
--minseokkie, like I said, its an ALPAca, not a llama :P
--whatever, pls don't try to pull sthg like that again. or else.
--sorry :///
--you want me to delete it??
--I think it’s too late for that
--I mean everyone’s already seen it who’s going to.
--really sorry T_T
--I’ll be home soon...let me make it up to you?
--I”ll have to check my schedule
Minseok waits a long moment, savoring the mental image of Lu Han squirming in his seat as he waits for a reply. (Minseok’s schedule is, in fact, very free, right up until the end of New Year's vacation.)
--Sweet! I hope you’re free on CHristmas eve? or do you have any special plans with a date ;))
--date?
--Lu, you do realize that if I were to get into sthg resembling a serious relationship you’d be the first to know u.u
--really :o
--\o/ I'm flattered, speechless and flattered ^_^/*
--so, christmas eve then?
--I’ll check with my secretary and get back to you.
--oki doki! actly, I have sthg to tell you…
--lu han what’s wrong? if you're hiding bad news from me istg I will
Minseok’s fingers stutter over the keyboard. He swears aloud when it sends his message half typed.
--Min, chill. its…
--well, its not nothing.
--but it's what I want to tell you when we go out next week.
--will hang you from the hooks on my ceiling and shake you til you hear your teeth rattle
--assuming your secretary clears your schedule and you can make it out to dinner with me ;))
--Ooh, well in that case I'll wait to hear it then, whatever it is.
--As long as you’re sure you’re ok
--don't worry!! ...too much, kk
--Lu Han!!
--jk, jk! just relax, ok?
--and hopefully I'll see you in just a few days!
--Hopefully. I'll let you know.
--good, good :)
--well I'll say goodnight here, leaving on a trek before sunrise u__U
--T____T
-->_______<
--k, be careful
--you know I alw am ;))
And this is when Minseok's phone finally dies, the CGI stars of the Samsung galaxy whooshing across his touchscreen as the appliance puts itself to sleep. Minseok pushes to his feet and hits the bathroom lights as he exits. Everyone else must have gone home by now except for the janitor. They probably all dashed for their vehicles in the parking garage or headed for the subway while he was fuming in a toilet stall.
Minseok gives a shaky laugh as he slips into his overcoat. It's probably all of the stress from work bleeding over into his reactions to the events in his personal life, which means he probably owes Lu Han an apology. This, however, will have to wait until he charges his phone battery. And maybe he should save it until he sees Lu Han again in person. Apologies always seem to go over better that way, when you can look the recipient of your remorse in the eye and show them a subdued, sincere smile of contrition.
Minseok has had this sort of conversation with Lu Han more times than he can count. That doesn't mean he's looking forward to this one, though.
⋘⋘⋘
"I broke up with my girlfriend on Sunday. It's ok though. It was...mutual." Lu Han doesn't sound okay, if the mournful sigh disrupting his sentence is any indication. He clinks his short fingernails on the rim of his glass. It's an apple martini, his usual. Minseok has joined him with a fruity drink order tonight for a change. Some kind of tropical flavored margarita sits untouched on the coaster in front of him.
"Well, wow." Minseok doesn't know quite what to say to that news. Well actually he does, but he has no reason to be cruel to his downcast friend. Lu Han didn't share his news for Minseok to mock him and his pain. He came expecting comfort, support, and perhaps sympathy. Minseok isn't sure exactly what Lu Han wants from him, but he’s certain is isn’t cruelty. He’s never been anything but understanding to his closest friend, even when Lu Han is in the midst of confessing one of his least sensible life decisions.
"Yeah, 'wow.' But it's not that big a deal. I guess." Lu Han sighs. His chin hits the cup of his his palm with a dull thud and Minseok winces, little streaks of sadistic pleasure still singing in veins like friendship vampirizing poison.
"So what happened with Lilith?" Minseok smirks. His lips graze the edge of his glass but he doesn't take a swallow.
"Lillian," Lu Han corrects with a slight frown, though he's probably just annoyed Minseok butchered his ex-girlfriend's name. Minseok doubts Lu Han actually picked up on his snide and folklorish allusion, which makes him feel both smug and more annoyed.
"Well?" he demands, tracing the salt crusting the rim of his glass with his tongue.
"We're over." Lu Han shrugs and shoves the plate of peanuts over until it bumps against Minseok's elbow. "I don't really wanna talk about it. I just wanted to tell you it happened, is all."
"Ok," Minseok says agreeably, because he doesn't really want to talk about it either. Not about the ugly details of the end, nor about any of the dirty laundry hidden away in Lu Han's battered suitcase. Some things are too much to share between friends. Even between self proclaimed platonic soul mates such as themselves.
"So!" Lu Han twists on his spinning bar stool, voice brightening along with his eyes as he fixes Minseok with an attentive smile. "You should tell me about you! It's been way too long since we did this."
"And that's the fault of who?" Minseok snaps. The words sting like bitter salt and crushed citrus rind in his mouth, chased by the foul aftertaste of too much sleep and too many pent up feelings trapped in a darkened apartment.
"I-I'm sorry," Lu Han stutters. His lips quiver in time with the glimmer in his eyes and Minseok feels out of practice.
He's not sure he can read his best friend anymore. He has too many feelings invested in all the wrong avenues and he feels like he'll screw up even worse if he gives into his instinct and trusts his gut right now.
"I would've tried to make time for you sooner, as soon as I got back, but I--"
"But you what, Lu Han? You were too busy? What's your excuse this time?" Minseok doesn't have to see Lu Han's wounded flinch to know he's gone too far. He feels like the worst kind of asshole before the words even leave his mouth, though he can't halt their march across his tongue and out through the exit gate of his teeth.
"Minseok."
"I--I'm sorry, Han. I don't know why I said that." Which is the truth, this time. Minseok knows Lu Han dragged his luggage through airport security less than 48 hours ago and still had to submit a preliminary written report the day he got back though he probably hadn't slept in as many hours. And it's not like Minseok had urgent reasons to see his friend the minute he arrived on U.S. soil. Lu Han, after all, is the one with a fresh wound on his heart and--
"Minseok." Lu Han's fingers are gentle on the curve of his jaw. "Will you at least look at me when I'm trying to apologize to you?" It only takes two tries for Minseok to give into his prodding. "There, that's better."
Lu Han's smile is wan and even more melancholy than before in the dim ambient lighting, and Minseok is such an asshole.
"Don't. Don't apologize to me, Lu." Minseok is the one who needs to do the apologizing, though he's not brave enough.
"Then why... What exactly do you want from me?" Lu Han sounds confused. His breath swells out his cheeks in chipmunk pockets until he releases it in tiny puffs through his teeth.
A lot of things, Minseok doesn't say with his lips, though his eyes are probably giving away volumes more than he ever intended for Lu Han to read there. Your heart and your beautiful dreams and the sound of your laugh when you first wake up in the morning. And the place inside your arms, right next to your heartbeat.
"Fuck, Min, do you even miss me?" Lu Han looks away with a bitter laugh. The cherry floating in his drink sways on the buoy of its crimson stem, mirroring the tides of nausea washing through Minseok's gut at his words. "You never text me first, sometimes you don't text me back at all. I don't know what's on your mind these days. No," he says, meeting Minseok's gaze as he raises a hand to hold off his protests.
"I don't mean about work or about Jonginnie's master thesis or who Yixing's mixing for or any of that stuff. I mean what's going on with you, the important stuff. The stuff you keep locked up in here." Lu Han lowers his fingers, dropping his hand to graze the pocket of Minseok's cable knit jumper with a touch so light Minseok can't feel if it's really there.
Minseokkie, don't lock me out.
That's what Lu Han had pleaded, half in tears, halfway through their last semester of undergrad the night of the fight. The fight, i.e. the most spectacularly awful falling out in the entire history of their relationship. Minseok hadn't replied to his tearful request, and Lu Han turned tail and fled to Yixing's dorm room. Joonmyun, aided by his aqua gel sleeping mask, earplugs, white noise soundtrack, and probably some kind of black magic, had slept through everything--all of the yelling and the awful, awful insults they had hurled in the next room.
Joonmyun had waltzed into the kitchen the next morning, shivering from one of his cold showers he insisted was the secret behind his perfect skin. His absent minded humming had cut off mid trill, confused by the stonewall of silence built across the breakfast table. His roommates were resolutely ignoring each other's existences from behind a barrier of cereal boxes.
The cold war had lasted for two weeks after that. Joonmyun had spent most of his time sighing and shaking his head in bouts of long suffering feelings, while Minseok sulked behind his collection of accounting and finance textbooks. Lu Han had just looked...sad. Minseok couldn't stand to look at him, to observe the tragic lines of his classically attractive face. He looked like the hero of a fucking Greek tragedy, golden and doomed.
So Minseok had kept ignoring him, until one day Lu Han came in from a soccer practice with a huge smile splitting his face and a Papa John's box under his arm, and everything was somehow okay again. The frigid atmosphere in the apartment had suddenly dissipated, and Joonmyun was left scratching his head yet again when he arrived after work to find his roommates spooning on the sofa and dipping their cheese stuffed crusts in garlic sauce in front of GIlmore Girls reruns on their antique television.
"Are you thinking about what I'm thinking about right now?" Lu Han asks, and Minseok thinks his broken laugh has never sounded more beautiful than it does tonight. Everything about Lu Han is beautiful, the squeak of his surprised laugh and the pink tinge in his cheeks when he gets bashful and the subtle wave of his hair over his brow.
"I don't know," Minseok answers truthfully. Lu Han shakes his head, clearing the amber cast of disappointment from his eyes until they fade back into a neutral golden brown.
"About that time we had that awful fight? I don't know what went wrong with us Minseokkie, but I hope that never happens again."
Minseok nods, aware now what Lu Han is trying to communicate: we're best when we keep things simple, so let's just stick to what we know.
Minseok's brain couldn't agree with this sentiment more, though his heart may be tugging him in another, much more treacherous direction.
"Yeah, me too. That was...not fun."
"Not in the slightest!" Lu Han laughs. This one rings true enough in Minseok's ears to put an answering smile on his face as he pulls out his phone and loads the photo gallery.
"Do you want to see pictures of the turtle we found in the basement at work? We named him George."
"Cute!" Lu Han scoots his stool closer to Minseok's and coos in his ear, and everything is somehow okay again.
⋙⋙⋙
Minseok gets a holiday greeting eleven days after Christmas. The envelope is postmarked Seoul and the corners are dented from the journey. "That's odd," he mutters to himself as he wades through the ankle deep snow to his car. His mother doesn't celebrate Christmas enough to send him a greeting card from Korea. The address on front is printed instead of handwritten, and there is no return label on the back when Minseok flips it over.
He hooks a fingernail under the tattered flap to rip it open while he waits for his engine to warm up, but then his phone rings. It's a call from Jongin, who wants to discuss the guest list for the 25th birthday party he's planning for himself. Minseok transfers the call to his blue tooth ear piece and stuffs the letter in his glove box to deal with later.
Minseok doesn't find the letter again until three days later when he tears the car apart in search of a rewards card he'd promised to give Joonmyun. He never does find the discount card, but he pulls out the green envelope when he notices it nestled between his insurance papers and a wad of paper napkins from KFC. This time he opens it right away, pulling the card from its sleeve in the elevator.
The front of the card is generic, an evergreen tree white with cartoonish snow and a santa claus waving from beneath the boughs. When he opens the cover a letter falls out, along with a copious amount of loose glitter.
"Oh fuck," Minseok curses, because he already knows who it's from even before he unfolds the pages to check the handwriting and signature at the bottom. He crams the papers back in the envelope as the elevator opens on his floor, checking to make sure the coast is clear before he dashes to his front door to key in the password. He doesn't want to get blamed for the belated holiday cheer that will be lining the soles of his neighbors' shoes and also the hall carpets for the next several months.
Finally inside in the privacy of his kitchen, Minseok spreads open the letter on his counter and sits down to read.
Dear Minseokkie,
Is it weird that I get a little homesick every time I eat an orange? Or anything they import from California really, avocados and broccoli... I've only been to LA once, just for three days, and I kind of hated it there.
Minseok drops his phone into his open briefcase with a sigh, not bothering to darken the screen first. This is less of a seasons greeting and more of a private journal entry Lu Han's addressed to Minseok for whatever reason. Minseok doesn't get why his friend feels the need to bring up sappy memories between them when his professional specialty is writing witty and action packed narrations of his present adventures.
Maybe Lu Han gets tired of telling all of his friends and relations the same narrative of his travels he gets paid to write on his official blog, but Minseok doesn't want to hear the mushy stuff he resorts to in private communications. He's tired of hearing how much Lu Han misses home, without any mention of how much he misses Minseok. It's not fair, Minseok thinks, that he's still stuck in the miserable limbo of missing Lu Han when he simultaneously kind of hates his friend's guts.
Oh yeah, the letter continues when Minseok turns back to the pages with another sigh, determined to skim to the end so he can fold up the sheets and stuff them in his drawer without a pall of guilt hanging over him for ignoring Lu Han's epistle.
...since you don’t do facebook anymore, I decided to write to you the old fashioned way. I think I kind of like this, just me and the blank paper and the scritch scratch of my pen nib to set a rhythm for these words.
Minseokkie, do you remember...?
Minseok takes a breath, a moment to stare at his ceiling. Of course he remembers. He remembers the paper snowflakes Lu Han and Joonmyun cut out the first winter they lived together and plastered all over Minseok's window until he couldn't see out. He remembers the first time Lu Han plopped down next to him in nothing but a pair of silk shorts and handed him half a twincicle and licked the melted juice from his fingers.
He remembers Lu Han's red nose when he caught the swine flu, and Lu Han's pink cheeks when he baked Minseok a birthday cake, and Lu Han's sparkling eyes when he told Minseok all about skiing in the Alps over whiskey sours at the bar.
But of course those are none of the things Lu Han mentions in the next paragraph. Minseok has no idea what percentage of their shared moments overlaps in each other's cerebral archives.
Of course I don't expect you to remember all of the silly things I think about sometimes, when I'm alone on a cross country train or stuck at some airport on an extended layover. I think about a lot of things, you know. But lately I've been thinking about you, and how cozy it was when we were still roommates and I could spill my thoughts to you without worrying about timezones and internet connections and schedules.
Minseok snorts at that, since Lu Han glibly skips over any mention of their horrible fights, but keeps reading.
When I'm travelling, people will ask if I'm ever homesick. And you know, I’m never sure quite how to answer them. Of course I get to craving steak fries or a good chocolate frosty every now and then, but who's complaining with Belgian hot chocolate or sashimi on the table?
"Who indeed," Minseok sighs, annoyed at himself for getting frustrated with Lu Han's circuitous explanation. He keeps reading though, because he hopes eventually there will be a line that will make sense to him, the Rosetta Stone to Lu Han's rambling, the key to piecing together his reason for wasting his pen ink and nostalgic musings on Minseok.
I think homesickness is more complex than people like to think of it. At least for me, it is. It's less of missing the absence of familiar and everyday places, and more of a longing to return to another time. Not necessarily a happier time, but a precious one; a moment held dear to my heart.
So even though I can text you and Jonginnie and bother you on the phone when you actually pick up my calls, that's the reason I get homesick, Minseokkie. Even Skype (you still need to make an account, btw!!) isn't the same as sitting next to you in the stairwell of our dorm and watching the sun come up the day after our last accounting final.
"Which is why I don't have Skype." Minseok sighs, sinking calloused fingers into his hair.
Once he flips the first page over and continues on to the scrawl slanting across the back, Lu Han's English cursive devolves into a disorganized hand of half print, half script, slipping into Korean in the middle of sentences when it suits his explanation better, and accented with a smattering of Chinese characters Minseok can barely remember the meanings of.
It doesn't matter, though. He could start code switching in Vietnamese and Minseok would probably get the gist of it, understand the feelings behind the words with the built in Lu Han interpretation device lodged in his heart. Minseok has always been the best at interpreting Lu Han no matter how his message is conveyed, whether he's slurring drunk or his words are choked back with the tears he refuses to show to anyone.
Minseok understands too much and he can feel a familiar welling in his chest long before he gets to the end where the signature is inked in tiny, cramped letters at the very bottom.
"Love, your friend, Lu Han," Minseok reads in a whisper, and he crumples the thin sheets of air mail paper in his fists. "You idiot." He glares at the grinning Santa on the card as he smooths the letter back into shape with his thumbs.
Lu Han will never know, but Minseok almost cries as he boots up his laptop to type back a reply.
⋘⋘⋘
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Lu Han/Minseok
Side Pairings: brief mentions of the following: Kris/Jessica, Suho/Sulli, Zhou Mi/Liyin, Chanyeol/unnamed female, Lu Han/female OC
Warnings: language, alcohol, brief mentions of OCs
Length: 24,168
Summary: "What exactly do you want from me?" Lu Han sounds confused. A lot of things, Minseok doesn't say with his lips, though his eyes are probably giving away volumes more than he ever intended for Lu Han to read there.
A/N: Super thanks to my team leader ailiblue and all my lovely teammates, and especially to my beta, rjaejoo!
“So, any plans for The Holidays coming up?”
Minseok snorts softly into his drink. The way Lu Han says ‘the holidays’ makes it sound like he’s some broadcasting announcer on TV trying to sell joy and cheer like candy canes. Like consumable commodities.
“I suppose I’ll see what everyone else is up to. And then see what I feel up to.” Minseok shrugs. The ice in his whiskey clinks against the glass.
“That sounds like a passive way to celebrate.” Lu Han leans back a little, hitching one shoulder into an awkward question mark as he side eyes Minseok.
Minseok doesn’t give into the conversational bait, though. He wasn’t trying to be cryptic to encourage Lu Han to weasel the answers out of him. What he said is what he meant.
Holidays always leave him feeling a little… off. Not exactly homesick but with an unsettled feeling between his shoulder blades winding around his spinal column to slip icy fingers of distress into his gut. The way he feels when he knows he's forgetting something, something important, but he can't figure out what.
“We just have different kinds of fun, is all. I get that. Sorta.” Lu Han’s smile isn’t sad. You might think the twinge that jerks at his lips looks mournful if you didn’t know better, but Minseok does. Minseok knows too many things about Lu Han. Especially what his smile looks like when he gets nostalgic.
If you bet Minseok another finger of whiskey, he’d wager Lu Han is remembering the first time they met right now. It’s an anecdote Lu Han likes to bring up in conversation, especially when introducing Minseok to one of his acquaintances. They met at one of Jongdae’s parties when Lu Han overheard Minseok say he didn’t understand the appeal of theme parks and amusement rides. Lu Han’s jaw had dropped in in an offended gasp of shock, and he called Minseok boring.
Boring, Minseok recalls, watching Lu Han jabber on about his new girlfriend as he swirls the melting ice in his glass. They’ve had plenty of time together since then for Lu Han to discover how true that fact is, at least by popular definition of the word. Minseok feels the same about holiday “fun” the way he feels about thrill rides--they’re nice in concept but harrowing in experience.
Not that he feels like he's missing out on the fun. He enjoys spending special days with his friends, not to mention the fact he gets to celebrate two sets of holidays: Christmas and the Lunar New Year, Thanksgiving and the Moon Festival.
That's part of the problem, though. It’s twice as many occasions for him to feel irrationally blase about and too emotionally off balance to cover it up well in front of his friends. The resulting pressure--feeling like he needs to keep a smile on his face to not disturb anyone else's enjoyment with his gloom--makes Minseok cranky. He gets more snappish than he used to after a finals week of all-nighters, and it always makes Lu Han pissed at him.
“So yeah,” Lu Han’s bemused laugh cuts into Minseok’s thoughts, and Minseok low key hates the sparkle in his eyes that glints off his martini glass. “You remember what she told me when I got back from hiking the Adirondacks? I told you about that time, right?”
Oh yeah. He’s still talking about his new girlfriend. No wonder his eyes are lit up like an overloaded Christmas tree,> Minseok thinks. Lu Han's dating a soft spoken white girl from the Midwest. Minseok can't remember the name of the town, it's so mundane and as boring as the cornfields it's no doubt surrounded by.
"You told me about her, yeah. Some girl from Cornville, USA."
"She's from the Akron area," Lu Han says, a frown sliding down his features to dip into his glass as he takes another sip. "Akron's an industrial city. They don't grow corn there."
Minseok is too drunk to care but he apologizes anyway out of habit, mumbling that he's sorry, fuck Akron but sorry, until Lu Han tells him to stop in a quiet voice, balancing a hand on one of Minseok's slumped shoulders.
His touch is light, and Minseok leans up into it instinctively, reaching for a caress he can't seem to come by honestly.
⋙⋙⋙
“Happy Halloween!”
“Hi.” Minseok finds a bookmark in his coffee table drawer, some souvenir from the Beijing Botanical Gardens printed with tulips and a panda. Minseok is pretty sure that the pandas in Beijing all stay at the zoo, but he uses the ridiculous illustration anyway. He’s never thrown out a gift from a friend before, at least not one from Lu Han.
“Are you out clubbing? Popping some tootsie rolls on the dance floor?”
“Lu Han…” Minseok drops his novel to his chest, eyeing his date for his literary evening at home with a mournful gaze. He’s not sure what mental image that suggestive pun about chocolate candy chews was supposed to inspire, and he’s not sure he wants to know. “If I were at a club right now I doubt you could hear me over the appalling racket. You’re not--” drunk, are you? Minseok stops himself from saying. Please don’t be drunk dialing me, Lu.
If it were anyone else--Jongdae, or Tao, even--he’d just hang up and maybe take the battery out of his phone. But with Lu Han…Call him a sap for giving in to nostalgia, but Minseok indulges Lu Han more than any of his other friends. It’s probably because they were roommates for so many years. At this point Minseok is just used to taking care of his friend when he’s drunk, whether he likes it or not.
“Guess where I am?”
Lu Han doesn’t sound drunk. His voice is just lazy with relaxation, velvet hums between honey tinged words, Minseok realizes with a relieved sigh. “I…have no idea, Han. Are you going to tell me, or is this a game where you torture me by making me guess without any hard data to draw upon?”
“Torture you!” Lu Han’s laugh is lazy too, low in his throat like he’s just waking up in the morning.
Maybe it is morning, Minseok thinks, wherever he is right now.
“Minseokkie, I thought I told you where I was going next before I got on the plane! Don’t you ever check Facebook?”
“Not really.” Minseok doesn’t bother to apologize about it this time. He’s done feeling sorry for a decision that has made his web surfing a much more enjoyable pastime.
“Ah, well I’m in Thailand. More specifically!” Lu Han says, his voice brightening like the smile Minseok knows must be plastered on his dumb, ugly face, “I’m at a massage parlor!”
“Good for you.” Minseok checks the clock. It’s only 9:18PM, a measly four and a half minutes since he answered Lu Han’s call and far too early to claim that it’s past his bedtime. This is when Minseok envies his friends with romantic attachments.
The only time a serious relationship is worth the inconvenience is using it to get out of other inconveniences, as Jongdae is fond of saying. And right now Minseok wishes he could fake an incoming call from his significant other so he won’t be tempted to lie here on his sofa and listen to the ramblings of his more-significant-than-he’ll-admit-to friend/person/jerk face, also known as Lu fucking Han.
“Have you ever been to a Thai style massage place? They do this tantric stuff--and no, don’t snort at me, it has nothing to do with sex--”
“Lu Han--” Minseok is cringing on his friend’s behalf, imagining with horror the image of Lu Han chatting on the phone in Korean while some poor Thai girl or man or grandmother works the knots out of his back and eavesdrops. The only words they’re likely to understand are the English ones. Like sex.
“It’s this stretching technique! And I think it has something to do with temples and religion, but I’m not really sure, all I know is--ohhh!” He lets out a low groan that vibrates like a kitten purr in his throat and heads straight down Minseok’s spine to his groin. “All I know is, it feels good!” He finishes the thought with another soft moan of pleasure.
“Maybe you should, I don’t know, relax and enjoy your massage instead of letting me distract you,” Minseok snaps, seconds away from ending the call without a proper goodbye.
“Oh, you’re not distracting me! Hearing a familiar voice from home just adds to the relaxing ambience.”
“Have you ever thought about the fact that I do not exist on this earth for your convenience or relaxation?” Minseok is trying hard, he’s really trying to keep control of his temper. It’s difficult though when his blood pressure keeps rising with every breathy hum that echoes from Lu Han’s lips and across the distance into Minseok’s very sensitive ear.
“I’m sorry! If you were busy, you should have--oooh!”
Minseok is done, he is so done. He cuts Lu Han off with a huff as he poises his thumb above the end call button. “Have fun in Phuket, Lu Han!”
Ok, so maybe Minseok happened to be checking backed up Facebook notifs the day Lu Han posted his travel itinerary for October and he knew in the back of his mind Lu Han was in Thailand this week. He just didn’t remember that fact at the beginning of their conversation. Anger helps Minseok recall the pesky details that float away on streams of apathy to the distant edges of his consciousness more often than not. Right. That’s the only reason he remembered where Lu Han is staying this weekend.
Minseok slides his silent phone back onto the coffee table and picks up his book again. He flips to the page where he left off, scoffing indignantly at the dumb, ugly face of the smiling panda on his bookmark. He makes a mental note to set his phone ringer to silent the next time he sits down for a relaxing evening with a book.
Tantric massage isn’t sexual? My ass.
⋘⋘⋘
"You look...tired." Jongdae punches Minseok in shoulder, but not hard enough to hurt. He's holding a red solo cup of overly sweetened tea, and Minseok is grateful he had the foresight to avoid jostling him and giving both of them a bath with it.
"Is that a nice way of putting it that you think I look miserable."
"Is that a question, or...? Are you just convinced that's what I meant and nothing I say will change your mind?" Jongdae blinks, long lashes casting shadows of innocence across his features. Minseok doesn't fall for it.
"Don't push it, Dae. You know I hate--"
"Holidays and festivities and your loving friends, right. I remember now." Jongdae wraps his arms around Minseok's shoulder, clinging to his side as he drops a kiss to the side of his neck just to be a jerk.
Minseok shakes him off, grateful that Jongdae at least is a match for his size. It's harder to elbow away someone the size of, say, Lu Han. "You know I don't actually hate my friends. Even little shits like you."
"Ah, I'm so flattered, hyung!" Jongdae says, switching to Korean as he hip checks Minseok with an evil wink. He slides away into the crowd to go pester Yixing before Minseok can haul him back for some retribution.
That leaves Zhou Mi on this side of the room for Minseok to make forced small talk with.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Minseokkie!" Zhou Mi raises his cup, a real glass tumbler from Joonmyun's kitchen cabinet instead of the disposable plastic ones most of the guests are carrying around. Minseok is cradling a to-go coffee cup from Seattle's Best in his hands. It's gotten cold, but even lukewarm the store bought americano is better than the weak brew getting bitter in Joonmyun's kitchen coffee maker.
"Thanks, ge," Minseok replies in Korean, relieved Zhou Mi isn't pressuring him into practicing his Chinese today. Their circle of friends mostly sticks to English and Korean at their private get togethers. Minseok does try to brush up on his Mandarin with some of his native speaker friends from time to time, but only when he's in the mood. Today Minseok is too tired to string together a long sentence in any language, native or not.
"Where's Lu Han today? You didn't drive out together?"
"Nah. He's not in town." Minseok drops his gaze to the coffee stain on the lid of his disposable cup. Of course he's not planning to reuse the thin plastic cover, but the sight of the permanent stain on the mouth hole bothers him. He covers the dried on coffee mark with his thumb before looking back up at his friend.
"Ooh, off jet setting again? Our young world traveller!" Zhou Mi's eyes crinkle up as he raises his beer mug to his lips. "Where is he photographing now?"
"I don't make a point of keeping track of his schedule, so I wouldn't exactly know." Minseok almost flinches at the surprised flash that crosses Zhou Mi's eyes and transitions into subtle disappointment. "But the last I heard," he continues with a sigh, "Lu was in southern Italy for some kind of beef slaughtering festival. But don't ask me anymore than that because I honestly don't know."
"Ok!" Zhou Mi shrugs. His smile is as cheerful as his bumblebee yellow sweater. The color would give Minseok a headache in harsher lighting, but fortunately Joonmyun understands taste and keeps the ambiance softened with helium bulbs in the spotlights overheard. "Did you try Jongin's oven roasted spinach dip, by the way? Because you should if you haven't! Even Kyu swears it's the best he's tried.”
"No, I haven't. But thank you for the recommendation; I'll have to go try some right now." Minseok gives Zhou Mi a grateful smile and doesn’t remind his friend that he actually hates spinach dip. Anything with spinach in general, really, but Minseok is glad for the excuse to slip off and wander through the quiet kitchen for a glass of water from the tap.
He finds himself outside on the deck a few minutes later. Not that there's anything (or anyone) out there that drew his attention in particular , but it's no better or worse than the dim lighting of the kitchen. Joonmyun's sink is a mountain of unsanitary dishes. At least his backyard is tidied, the last of the fallen leaves raked into slimy piles under the dripping trees.
Jongdae is out back, tending to the grill with Baekhyun and Amber while Kyuhyun babysits the turkey fryer with a can of Budweiser in one hand and a meat thermometer in the other. Typical holiday scene, same as the last four Thanksgivings that Minseok has celebrated with his friends. Joonmyun finished university the same year as Minseok and Lu Han did, though he moved out to the county when he landed a lucrative accounting position while the others stayed in Manhattan to work.
The only differences from this Thanksgiving to last year are a few adjustments to the guest list. Besides Lu Han, also missing are Kris and Jessica, still on their honeymoon in Cancun, as well as Zhou Mi's partner Liyin who opted to eat cranberry sauce on the sofa in the comfort of her own home.
Minseok doesn't blame her. If he had as socially acceptable of an excuse as being nine months pregnant, he would have stayed home too. But of course Joonmyun just had to call him the night before and make sure he was still coming and bringing the cucumber kimchi. Minseok also has a hard time saying no to Joonmyun, especially when his other former roommate so innocently guilt trips him about contributing to the smorgasbord. (No one's cucumber kimchi is as good as Minseok's heirloom recipe, not even Jessica Jung-Wu's, and he intends to keep the reputation slanted that way.)
"We're at the start of yet another lonely holiday season, eh Min?" Yixing slings an arm over Minseok's shoulder. His thumb taps out a rhythm on the neck of his Miller Lite, probably the bass line to some track he's engineering in the sound studio this week. Minseok shivers under the weight of his loose embrace but doesn't shrug him off.
"I'm sorry for your loss if you feel that way. But I'm fine, ge. Business as usual. Life goes on."
This makes Yixing laugh. The point of his elbow grazes Minseok's spine as he shifts in place. "Why does that sound like a eulogy? Did you just dump someone? Or did they just dump you?" His voice is low and teasing but Minseok reads the concern in his tone. He turns to face Yixing with a bemused smile.
"No, I haven't dated anyone--"
"In months," Baekhyun finishes for him, waving the barbecue tongs to emphasize his statement. "Or has it been years, hyung, since your last hook up?"
"Hook ups are not the same thing as dating, Byun Baek." Minseok shakes his head, grateful for Yixing's squeeze of encouragement warming his shoulder. "You of all bastards should know that."
"Ooohh, burrrnn!" Jongdae yells, and throws a handful of briquettes on the low burning flames in the pit of the grill.
"Knock it off." Baekhyun headbutts Jongdae out of reach of the grill before he can completely extinguish the fire by adding too much charcoal at once. "And put some gloves on before you touch that black stuff or I'll tell Joonmyun hyung on you!"
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me!"
Amber tsks loudly and grabs them both by the scruff of their necks (or by their sweatshirt hoods, as is the case). Minseok is too used to their nonsense to laugh. Yixing is howling hard enough for the both of them, anyway. He drops his arm from it's perch on Minseok's shoulders as a swig of his beer splatters onto Joonmyun's brand new cedar deck.
Minseok looks around for the roll of paper towels he knows must be floating around in the vicinity of the grill. He finds it in Jinri's hands when he turns to scan the yard behind him. She tears off a panel and wads it into an absorbent pad before handing the roll off to Minseok.
"No, no! I got this, don't bother." She holds up a hand to keep him and Yixing from dropping to their knees to help her wipe up the mess. "I read somewhere, I think on Pinterest actually, that if you mop a hardwood deck with beer it's supposed to help season the wood."
"Oh really?" Yixing mumbles against the mouth of his bottle, probably embarrassed for spilling his refreshments on Joonmyun's newly installed pride and joy. "Sounds like a waste of beer to me!"
"Haha! Maybe so." Jinri shakes her hair out of her eyes as she gets to her feet with the dirty pile of towels in her fist. "But either way, it shouldn't matter any. Myun put some kind of sealant on here that keeps the wood moisture resistant."
"That's good!" Yixing whisks the soggy paper towels out of her hands before she can protest. "Allow me to dispose of that for you, milady!"
Jinri giggles, whacking him on the back for his shameless flirting as he escapes. Out of any of his friends, Yixing's the one Minseok thought would get married first. He’s been single longer than Minseok, though. Maybe he just hasn't found the right girl.
"It's been awhile." Jinri gives Minseok a wink. He takes a gulp of cold coffee, breath catching in his throat hard enough to choke him because he knows what's coming next. "Have you found a nice girl yet? Or anyone on your mind these days?"
"Oh, I sure have a lot on my mind." He pauses, savoring the surprised lift of her eyebrows before he continues. "If you want to hear all about the business merger our division is overseeing at work, I'd be more than happy to fill you in on all the details."
"Oppa!" She bats at his shoulder the way she slapped at Yixing. "You know that's not what I meant!"
"Oh? Sorry." Of course he knew. Minseok hates talking about work outside of the office. He's not at liberty to reveal details of the merger anyway, even if he wanted to waste his breath on that sort of inanity in front of a willing audience.
"I think you must be dating someone and just keeping it a secret from all of us."
"That's not it at all." He shakes his head, frowning a little when Jongdae looks over in interest.
"Yeah, leave hyung alone, Jinri. If he has a someone someone," Jongdae says with an obnoxious wriggle of his eyebrows, "I doubt he’d be the type to inform us of the change in his relationship status via Facebook."
"You got that right."
Jinri shrugs, the lace collar on her thick wool cardigan flouncing against her breast. Maybe it's meant as an apology. Maybe she just doesn't know how to stop flirting even when Joonmyun's not in the room to grin at her with that insipid smile of his.
Minseok wipes his hands on his jeans even though he isn’t the one with spilled lager sticky on his palms. He wishes he could go back to the kitchen to wash his hands again but Jinri would probably trail him back into the house and pester him with more questions about his herb garden or the weather or Manhattan or even--god forbid--Lu Han.
So he just waits for her to excuse herself from the crowd on the deck and sidles a bit closer to the warmth of the grill. Jongdae is standing the closest to the heat source now that Baekhyun has disappeared to who knows where, but he's shivering in his shoes. He must have decided to leave the house in a cotton hoodie and a pair of shorts today because he's crazy.
Kyungsoo, at least, came prepared. He's in a heavy black parka and navy corduroy slacks, the velveteen worn at the knees and faded to a powder blue shade. He's leaning on the railing of the deck with a cigarette dangling from his ink stained fingers. Once again Minseok wishes he had the audacity to give cancer warnings on tobacco labels the middle finger and pick up the habit. It would be the perfect excuse to escape the hubbub of a party for a few moments. Or to end unpleasant and unwarranted phone calls at 9:18 PM at night.
He sighs, reaching for his phone in his back pocket when it vibrates. Minseok is at least grateful he lives in the smartphone age, era of instant knowledgification and constant distraction. He only has one new notification. It's an Instagram update from luhandinhand.
It looks like some surreal photo shoot from a European fashion publication, though Lu Han's faded cargo shorts and hand tie dyed tee can hardly be compared to haute couture. Lu Han himself, however, looks like a work of art. His toned arms glow milky clean against the tawny fur and midnight stripes of the half grown tiger he's hugging, spooning its regal back under the spangled shade of some kind of palm tree.
In northern Thailand three weeks ago, the caption reads, This Thanksgiving I'm grateful for everyone who supports Four Corners Travel Wonders, Inc., giving me the chance to do what I love everyday! Wishing you a restful holiday with your loved ones from my current post in Genoa. --L.
"Ooh! Is that a text from Lu ge?" Jongdae snaps his sooty tongs in the direction of Minseok's S-Note 4 until he relinquishes the phone out of fear for its life.
"Just an Instagram update on his official account." Minseok shrugs. The flames glow hot beneath the crooked rows of hotdogs and veggie burgers Jongdae's neglecting to ogle Lu Han's cuddle session with an overgrown cat. It assuages his jealousy a bit knowing Jongdae assumed Lu Han had texted him directly, though it bothers Minseok to realize he cares in the first place.
"You must miss him a lot, huh, ever since he moved out."
"I dunno." Minseok scratches at a bit of adhesive on the back of the lighter fluid can. "He moved out of our apartment because he was never home, once he started travelling full time. It only made sense."
"Yeah," Jongdae nods, bobbing his head in agreement. "Not saying it isn't efficient the way you guys got it worked out now, but it just seems...I dunno… Lonely."
Way to rub it in, bastard, Minseok doesn't say. He just stares in silence at the withered mums in the flowerbeds around the edge of the house as Kyuhyun stares back at him from behind the polarized lenses of his expensive sunglasses.
"You should talk to Lu Han ge, hyung." Jongdae's hand is warm on his shoulder, just for a moment, and Minseok wonders why he feels like crying all of a sudden. "If you miss him that much, just tell him."
"Yeah," Minseok whispers and fans the charcoal smoke away from his burning eyes.
⋙⋙⋙
The next Instagram update Lu Han posts that Minseok actually bothers to check happens nearly a month later. Lu Han is somewhere in South America, Bolivia or Botswana or wherever the ancient Incan ruins Minseok barely remembers from his eighth grade geography textbook happen to be located.
Scraping the clouds up here at the entrance to heaven! #MachuPicchu #WinterSolstice2015 #FourCornersTravel
The next photo, uploaded at the same time, is a gag filter. Minseok's neglected account is tagged in the frame, the main reason he bothered to open the phone app during his rushed dinner break. Minseok scrolls through the notifs and chokes on a spear of baby corn when he passes the tagged photo on his timeline.
It's a selfie of Lu Han and two llamas. Lu Han is being ridiculous as usual, straining his head up until the veins in his neck bulge in unattractive definition. He's pretending to bite the ear of a beige and brown spotted llama, while the dark haired llama on the far right of the pic is the real reason Minseok's blood pressure spikes through the roof. (It has nothing to do with the sodium saturated Chinese takeout he just gulped down in ten minutes, not at all.)
Minseok's face is photoshopped into the frame, obliterating the long lashed eyes and llama snout of the animal. The texture blending on the hair isn't too shabbily done. At least Lu Han picked a photo of Minseok with his natural hair color that merges smoothly into the dark shade of the llama's coat.
The rest of the photo, however, is a nightmare. The pic of Minseok Lu Han decided to broadcast to the world (literally the world, Minseok thinks in horror, staring at the thousands of likes the official post has garnered in a few short hours) is a very candid snapshot from sophomore year. Minseok's eyes bug out like a tropical insect and his jaw is stretched to its full volume in an open mouthed expression of shock.
It is probably the only photo of Minseok with proportions that would cover the long faced snout of the llama that Lu Han had handy on his phone, but still. That doesn't make this ok. And Lu Han didn't even bother to ask permission first, Minseok realizes with a seething snarl. He stuffs the last mushroom cap from his paper carton of mixed vegetables between his teeth and gets up with a huff.
"Friends do not post embarrassing photos of their friends," he repeats to himself as he wets his toothbrush in the sink of the office bathroom. "Especially not in public. Especially not in the global spotlight!"
He proceeds to scrub his teeth clean with the force of all the vengeance humming in his veins, until he can taste a hint of metallic behind the mint of his extra spearmint toothpaste, because that's all he can do. He's due upstairs to facilitate a board meeting in six minutes and has no time to deal with the drama going down on Instagram right now.
Minseok sets his phone to level 1 vibrate as he stomps to the elevator. This way he can keep tabs on how many interactions he's being notified of from the buzzing in his pocket without looking, but it won't be loud enough to disturb the meeting. This is an important meeting after all. The legal representatives for both sides of the merger will be present today. It's vital that Minseok keep calm and professional under the tight band of his starched shirt collar, no matter how late this meeting runs into overtime.
He pauses outside the conference room doors to take a deep breath and pushes inside to greet the board of directors and the officials from the other party. You can do this, Minseok. You got this. Just smile, focus, be eloquent. The same stuff you do every day. This pep talk calms him down enough to make it through introductions and opening pleasantries with a calm smile fixed in place.
It soon becomes apparent, however, that leaving his phone on vibrate was perhaps not his wisest decision of the evening. Or possibly of the decade. The buzzing is near constant, a ceaseless reminder of his public humiliation searing into the sensitive flesh of his thigh like a brand.
By the end of the first hour Minseok's concentration is shot. Nearing the end of the third hour, the irritation against his leg is making him irrationally cranky in addition to his base layer of righteous furor. By the time the meeting finally breaks up, well after 9:00PM, Minseok is just exhausted by it all and it's a wonder his phone battery hasn't given up the ghost by now.
As soon as he makes it out of the conference room Minseok veers towards the nearest men's room down the hall. He plunks down on the lid of the toilet in one of the empty stalls, phone in hand to murder Lu Han for the hours of humiliation he's just endured. Of course Lu Han had to post it during work hours, when Minseok wasn't able to get online to defend his honor, or to even screech in rage at his stuffed hedgehog in the privacy of his bedroom.
He starts typing out a text message as fast as his fingers will fly.
--What is that hideous thing on your official insta and why is my face on it.
--hideous? what's hideous? kk ^^ all I see is a cute baozipaca!
--a what
--lu han wtf!
--baozipaca! baozi + alpaca
--why didn’t you tag Kris, or even Amber? why me?
--I thought it was cute!
--I have nothing, I repeat NOTHing to do with alpacas! they are not my spirit animal.
Minseok's hands are shaking so badly against the toilet paper dispenser where his wrists are propped that he's starting to mistype things. And of course the typos just cast him further into the pool of anger and self loathing he’s drowning in.
--minseokkie, like I said, its an ALPAca, not a llama :P
--whatever, pls don't try to pull sthg like that again. or else.
--sorry :///
--you want me to delete it??
--I think it’s too late for that
--I mean everyone’s already seen it who’s going to.
--really sorry T_T
--I’ll be home soon...let me make it up to you?
--I”ll have to check my schedule
Minseok waits a long moment, savoring the mental image of Lu Han squirming in his seat as he waits for a reply. (Minseok’s schedule is, in fact, very free, right up until the end of New Year's vacation.)
--Sweet! I hope you’re free on CHristmas eve? or do you have any special plans with a date ;))
--date?
--Lu, you do realize that if I were to get into sthg resembling a serious relationship you’d be the first to know u.u
--really :o
--\o/ I'm flattered, speechless and flattered ^_^/*
--so, christmas eve then?
--I’ll check with my secretary and get back to you.
--oki doki! actly, I have sthg to tell you…
--lu han what’s wrong? if you're hiding bad news from me istg I will
Minseok’s fingers stutter over the keyboard. He swears aloud when it sends his message half typed.
--Min, chill. its…
--well, its not nothing.
--but it's what I want to tell you when we go out next week.
--will hang you from the hooks on my ceiling and shake you til you hear your teeth rattle
--assuming your secretary clears your schedule and you can make it out to dinner with me ;))
--Ooh, well in that case I'll wait to hear it then, whatever it is.
--As long as you’re sure you’re ok
--don't worry!! ...too much, kk
--Lu Han!!
--jk, jk! just relax, ok?
--and hopefully I'll see you in just a few days!
--Hopefully. I'll let you know.
--good, good :)
--well I'll say goodnight here, leaving on a trek before sunrise u__U
--T____T
-->_______<
--k, be careful
--you know I alw am ;))
And this is when Minseok's phone finally dies, the CGI stars of the Samsung galaxy whooshing across his touchscreen as the appliance puts itself to sleep. Minseok pushes to his feet and hits the bathroom lights as he exits. Everyone else must have gone home by now except for the janitor. They probably all dashed for their vehicles in the parking garage or headed for the subway while he was fuming in a toilet stall.
Minseok gives a shaky laugh as he slips into his overcoat. It's probably all of the stress from work bleeding over into his reactions to the events in his personal life, which means he probably owes Lu Han an apology. This, however, will have to wait until he charges his phone battery. And maybe he should save it until he sees Lu Han again in person. Apologies always seem to go over better that way, when you can look the recipient of your remorse in the eye and show them a subdued, sincere smile of contrition.
Minseok has had this sort of conversation with Lu Han more times than he can count. That doesn't mean he's looking forward to this one, though.
⋘⋘⋘
"I broke up with my girlfriend on Sunday. It's ok though. It was...mutual." Lu Han doesn't sound okay, if the mournful sigh disrupting his sentence is any indication. He clinks his short fingernails on the rim of his glass. It's an apple martini, his usual. Minseok has joined him with a fruity drink order tonight for a change. Some kind of tropical flavored margarita sits untouched on the coaster in front of him.
"Well, wow." Minseok doesn't know quite what to say to that news. Well actually he does, but he has no reason to be cruel to his downcast friend. Lu Han didn't share his news for Minseok to mock him and his pain. He came expecting comfort, support, and perhaps sympathy. Minseok isn't sure exactly what Lu Han wants from him, but he’s certain is isn’t cruelty. He’s never been anything but understanding to his closest friend, even when Lu Han is in the midst of confessing one of his least sensible life decisions.
"Yeah, 'wow.' But it's not that big a deal. I guess." Lu Han sighs. His chin hits the cup of his his palm with a dull thud and Minseok winces, little streaks of sadistic pleasure still singing in veins like friendship vampirizing poison.
"So what happened with Lilith?" Minseok smirks. His lips graze the edge of his glass but he doesn't take a swallow.
"Lillian," Lu Han corrects with a slight frown, though he's probably just annoyed Minseok butchered his ex-girlfriend's name. Minseok doubts Lu Han actually picked up on his snide and folklorish allusion, which makes him feel both smug and more annoyed.
"Well?" he demands, tracing the salt crusting the rim of his glass with his tongue.
"We're over." Lu Han shrugs and shoves the plate of peanuts over until it bumps against Minseok's elbow. "I don't really wanna talk about it. I just wanted to tell you it happened, is all."
"Ok," Minseok says agreeably, because he doesn't really want to talk about it either. Not about the ugly details of the end, nor about any of the dirty laundry hidden away in Lu Han's battered suitcase. Some things are too much to share between friends. Even between self proclaimed platonic soul mates such as themselves.
"So!" Lu Han twists on his spinning bar stool, voice brightening along with his eyes as he fixes Minseok with an attentive smile. "You should tell me about you! It's been way too long since we did this."
"And that's the fault of who?" Minseok snaps. The words sting like bitter salt and crushed citrus rind in his mouth, chased by the foul aftertaste of too much sleep and too many pent up feelings trapped in a darkened apartment.
"I-I'm sorry," Lu Han stutters. His lips quiver in time with the glimmer in his eyes and Minseok feels out of practice.
He's not sure he can read his best friend anymore. He has too many feelings invested in all the wrong avenues and he feels like he'll screw up even worse if he gives into his instinct and trusts his gut right now.
"I would've tried to make time for you sooner, as soon as I got back, but I--"
"But you what, Lu Han? You were too busy? What's your excuse this time?" Minseok doesn't have to see Lu Han's wounded flinch to know he's gone too far. He feels like the worst kind of asshole before the words even leave his mouth, though he can't halt their march across his tongue and out through the exit gate of his teeth.
"Minseok."
"I--I'm sorry, Han. I don't know why I said that." Which is the truth, this time. Minseok knows Lu Han dragged his luggage through airport security less than 48 hours ago and still had to submit a preliminary written report the day he got back though he probably hadn't slept in as many hours. And it's not like Minseok had urgent reasons to see his friend the minute he arrived on U.S. soil. Lu Han, after all, is the one with a fresh wound on his heart and--
"Minseok." Lu Han's fingers are gentle on the curve of his jaw. "Will you at least look at me when I'm trying to apologize to you?" It only takes two tries for Minseok to give into his prodding. "There, that's better."
Lu Han's smile is wan and even more melancholy than before in the dim ambient lighting, and Minseok is such an asshole.
"Don't. Don't apologize to me, Lu." Minseok is the one who needs to do the apologizing, though he's not brave enough.
"Then why... What exactly do you want from me?" Lu Han sounds confused. His breath swells out his cheeks in chipmunk pockets until he releases it in tiny puffs through his teeth.
A lot of things, Minseok doesn't say with his lips, though his eyes are probably giving away volumes more than he ever intended for Lu Han to read there. Your heart and your beautiful dreams and the sound of your laugh when you first wake up in the morning. And the place inside your arms, right next to your heartbeat.
"Fuck, Min, do you even miss me?" Lu Han looks away with a bitter laugh. The cherry floating in his drink sways on the buoy of its crimson stem, mirroring the tides of nausea washing through Minseok's gut at his words. "You never text me first, sometimes you don't text me back at all. I don't know what's on your mind these days. No," he says, meeting Minseok's gaze as he raises a hand to hold off his protests.
"I don't mean about work or about Jonginnie's master thesis or who Yixing's mixing for or any of that stuff. I mean what's going on with you, the important stuff. The stuff you keep locked up in here." Lu Han lowers his fingers, dropping his hand to graze the pocket of Minseok's cable knit jumper with a touch so light Minseok can't feel if it's really there.
Minseokkie, don't lock me out.
That's what Lu Han had pleaded, half in tears, halfway through their last semester of undergrad the night of the fight. The fight, i.e. the most spectacularly awful falling out in the entire history of their relationship. Minseok hadn't replied to his tearful request, and Lu Han turned tail and fled to Yixing's dorm room. Joonmyun, aided by his aqua gel sleeping mask, earplugs, white noise soundtrack, and probably some kind of black magic, had slept through everything--all of the yelling and the awful, awful insults they had hurled in the next room.
Joonmyun had waltzed into the kitchen the next morning, shivering from one of his cold showers he insisted was the secret behind his perfect skin. His absent minded humming had cut off mid trill, confused by the stonewall of silence built across the breakfast table. His roommates were resolutely ignoring each other's existences from behind a barrier of cereal boxes.
The cold war had lasted for two weeks after that. Joonmyun had spent most of his time sighing and shaking his head in bouts of long suffering feelings, while Minseok sulked behind his collection of accounting and finance textbooks. Lu Han had just looked...sad. Minseok couldn't stand to look at him, to observe the tragic lines of his classically attractive face. He looked like the hero of a fucking Greek tragedy, golden and doomed.
So Minseok had kept ignoring him, until one day Lu Han came in from a soccer practice with a huge smile splitting his face and a Papa John's box under his arm, and everything was somehow okay again. The frigid atmosphere in the apartment had suddenly dissipated, and Joonmyun was left scratching his head yet again when he arrived after work to find his roommates spooning on the sofa and dipping their cheese stuffed crusts in garlic sauce in front of GIlmore Girls reruns on their antique television.
"Are you thinking about what I'm thinking about right now?" Lu Han asks, and Minseok thinks his broken laugh has never sounded more beautiful than it does tonight. Everything about Lu Han is beautiful, the squeak of his surprised laugh and the pink tinge in his cheeks when he gets bashful and the subtle wave of his hair over his brow.
"I don't know," Minseok answers truthfully. Lu Han shakes his head, clearing the amber cast of disappointment from his eyes until they fade back into a neutral golden brown.
"About that time we had that awful fight? I don't know what went wrong with us Minseokkie, but I hope that never happens again."
Minseok nods, aware now what Lu Han is trying to communicate: we're best when we keep things simple, so let's just stick to what we know.
Minseok's brain couldn't agree with this sentiment more, though his heart may be tugging him in another, much more treacherous direction.
"Yeah, me too. That was...not fun."
"Not in the slightest!" Lu Han laughs. This one rings true enough in Minseok's ears to put an answering smile on his face as he pulls out his phone and loads the photo gallery.
"Do you want to see pictures of the turtle we found in the basement at work? We named him George."
"Cute!" Lu Han scoots his stool closer to Minseok's and coos in his ear, and everything is somehow okay again.
⋙⋙⋙
Minseok gets a holiday greeting eleven days after Christmas. The envelope is postmarked Seoul and the corners are dented from the journey. "That's odd," he mutters to himself as he wades through the ankle deep snow to his car. His mother doesn't celebrate Christmas enough to send him a greeting card from Korea. The address on front is printed instead of handwritten, and there is no return label on the back when Minseok flips it over.
He hooks a fingernail under the tattered flap to rip it open while he waits for his engine to warm up, but then his phone rings. It's a call from Jongin, who wants to discuss the guest list for the 25th birthday party he's planning for himself. Minseok transfers the call to his blue tooth ear piece and stuffs the letter in his glove box to deal with later.
Minseok doesn't find the letter again until three days later when he tears the car apart in search of a rewards card he'd promised to give Joonmyun. He never does find the discount card, but he pulls out the green envelope when he notices it nestled between his insurance papers and a wad of paper napkins from KFC. This time he opens it right away, pulling the card from its sleeve in the elevator.
The front of the card is generic, an evergreen tree white with cartoonish snow and a santa claus waving from beneath the boughs. When he opens the cover a letter falls out, along with a copious amount of loose glitter.
"Oh fuck," Minseok curses, because he already knows who it's from even before he unfolds the pages to check the handwriting and signature at the bottom. He crams the papers back in the envelope as the elevator opens on his floor, checking to make sure the coast is clear before he dashes to his front door to key in the password. He doesn't want to get blamed for the belated holiday cheer that will be lining the soles of his neighbors' shoes and also the hall carpets for the next several months.
Finally inside in the privacy of his kitchen, Minseok spreads open the letter on his counter and sits down to read.
Dear Minseokkie,
Is it weird that I get a little homesick every time I eat an orange? Or anything they import from California really, avocados and broccoli... I've only been to LA once, just for three days, and I kind of hated it there.
Minseok drops his phone into his open briefcase with a sigh, not bothering to darken the screen first. This is less of a seasons greeting and more of a private journal entry Lu Han's addressed to Minseok for whatever reason. Minseok doesn't get why his friend feels the need to bring up sappy memories between them when his professional specialty is writing witty and action packed narrations of his present adventures.
Maybe Lu Han gets tired of telling all of his friends and relations the same narrative of his travels he gets paid to write on his official blog, but Minseok doesn't want to hear the mushy stuff he resorts to in private communications. He's tired of hearing how much Lu Han misses home, without any mention of how much he misses Minseok. It's not fair, Minseok thinks, that he's still stuck in the miserable limbo of missing Lu Han when he simultaneously kind of hates his friend's guts.
Oh yeah, the letter continues when Minseok turns back to the pages with another sigh, determined to skim to the end so he can fold up the sheets and stuff them in his drawer without a pall of guilt hanging over him for ignoring Lu Han's epistle.
...since you don’t do facebook anymore, I decided to write to you the old fashioned way. I think I kind of like this, just me and the blank paper and the scritch scratch of my pen nib to set a rhythm for these words.
Minseokkie, do you remember...?
Minseok takes a breath, a moment to stare at his ceiling. Of course he remembers. He remembers the paper snowflakes Lu Han and Joonmyun cut out the first winter they lived together and plastered all over Minseok's window until he couldn't see out. He remembers the first time Lu Han plopped down next to him in nothing but a pair of silk shorts and handed him half a twincicle and licked the melted juice from his fingers.
He remembers Lu Han's red nose when he caught the swine flu, and Lu Han's pink cheeks when he baked Minseok a birthday cake, and Lu Han's sparkling eyes when he told Minseok all about skiing in the Alps over whiskey sours at the bar.
But of course those are none of the things Lu Han mentions in the next paragraph. Minseok has no idea what percentage of their shared moments overlaps in each other's cerebral archives.
Of course I don't expect you to remember all of the silly things I think about sometimes, when I'm alone on a cross country train or stuck at some airport on an extended layover. I think about a lot of things, you know. But lately I've been thinking about you, and how cozy it was when we were still roommates and I could spill my thoughts to you without worrying about timezones and internet connections and schedules.
Minseok snorts at that, since Lu Han glibly skips over any mention of their horrible fights, but keeps reading.
When I'm travelling, people will ask if I'm ever homesick. And you know, I’m never sure quite how to answer them. Of course I get to craving steak fries or a good chocolate frosty every now and then, but who's complaining with Belgian hot chocolate or sashimi on the table?
"Who indeed," Minseok sighs, annoyed at himself for getting frustrated with Lu Han's circuitous explanation. He keeps reading though, because he hopes eventually there will be a line that will make sense to him, the Rosetta Stone to Lu Han's rambling, the key to piecing together his reason for wasting his pen ink and nostalgic musings on Minseok.
I think homesickness is more complex than people like to think of it. At least for me, it is. It's less of missing the absence of familiar and everyday places, and more of a longing to return to another time. Not necessarily a happier time, but a precious one; a moment held dear to my heart.
So even though I can text you and Jonginnie and bother you on the phone when you actually pick up my calls, that's the reason I get homesick, Minseokkie. Even Skype (you still need to make an account, btw!!) isn't the same as sitting next to you in the stairwell of our dorm and watching the sun come up the day after our last accounting final.
"Which is why I don't have Skype." Minseok sighs, sinking calloused fingers into his hair.
Once he flips the first page over and continues on to the scrawl slanting across the back, Lu Han's English cursive devolves into a disorganized hand of half print, half script, slipping into Korean in the middle of sentences when it suits his explanation better, and accented with a smattering of Chinese characters Minseok can barely remember the meanings of.
It doesn't matter, though. He could start code switching in Vietnamese and Minseok would probably get the gist of it, understand the feelings behind the words with the built in Lu Han interpretation device lodged in his heart. Minseok has always been the best at interpreting Lu Han no matter how his message is conveyed, whether he's slurring drunk or his words are choked back with the tears he refuses to show to anyone.
Minseok understands too much and he can feel a familiar welling in his chest long before he gets to the end where the signature is inked in tiny, cramped letters at the very bottom.
"Love, your friend, Lu Han," Minseok reads in a whisper, and he crumples the thin sheets of air mail paper in his fists. "You idiot." He glares at the grinning Santa on the card as he smooths the letter back into shape with his thumbs.
Lu Han will never know, but Minseok almost cries as he boots up his laptop to type back a reply.
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