RUN (TILL YOUR DREAMS TAKE FLIGHT) ; XIUHAN, PG PART 2
“Xiumin-hyung!”
A bright voice calls to him from across the field and Minseok stops, wiping his towel across his forehead. He turns to see the one other Korean, Chen, jogging to him across the field.
He’s happy enough to wait for him to jog to where he is and he waits for whatever Chen has to say. He blurts out quickly in Korean, “Hyung, you don’t have any plans for tonight, do you?”
Minseok pauses, brow furrowed, and soundly answers in Mandarin, “No, I don’t. Why?”
Chen, if he wonders why Minseok had gone back to Mandarin, doesn’t ponder why and just smiles, quick and persuasive. “The team is getting together for dinner since today is Coach’s birthday. Would you like to come along?”
Coach Qu strolls up to the pair and Chen fills him in, “I was just telling Xiumin-ge about dinner tonight since it’s Coach’s birthday and everything. You said that you wanted the entire team here tonight, didn’t you?”
Minseok glances at Chen quickly before trying to put a small smile on his face, slightly unsure, never having accepted their invitations to lunch or dinner before.
“You should join, if you want to, Xiumin. You can come join us,” Coach Qu tries, nodding to Xiumin and he falters.
“Um. I don’t have plans today. Where is it?” Minseok gives in.
Chen is quick enough to tell him that they were just planning to go to the karaoke right after afternoon practice so that he could just bring a change of clothes for after their showers in the locker rooms.
Minseok agrees and before he can scuttle off to go find a new place for lunch (Minseok likes to wander around looking for new places to eat. He doesn’t believe in eating the same thing day after day) Chen invites Minseok to eat lunch with the team.
Shifting his weight to the other foot, Minseok rolls the idea in his head as Luhan wanders up from behind Chen to drape his arm over the shorter one and interjects, “What’s up?”
“Just inviting Xiumin-ge to lunch. I figured you guys wouldn’t mind anyway,” Chen fills in, smacking Luhan’s stomach as he ruffles Chen’s hair. Luhan says ‘oof!’ with a small smile, and retaliates with a pinch to Chen’s side.
“Behave,” Chen hisses at Luhan, in which Luhan just snidely sneers back, “Respect your ge.”
Minseok watches the exchange with an amused smile and before he can stop himself he finds himself agreeing. “Sure.”
Chen eyes light up and bounds back to the team, positively shrieking, “Xiumin-ge said yes to lunch!”
His announcement is met with loud ‘whaaaat’s and the Korean is smirking as he rubs his hands in a greedy manner. Minseok will later find out that they had placed a bet on who would be able to get Minseok to accept their meal invitations, and of course Chen had bet on himself.
“You know, you never agreed to our invitations before,” Luhan murmurs, glancing over at Minseok as they go join the rest of their rambunctious members. “Why the ok today?”
Minseok is not even sure why he agreed today but he doesn’t think that Luhan cares enough to know. So he settles on an easier answer, “Just because.”
It’s not much of an answer but Luhan doesn’t comment on it, the Chinese getting pulled away by a gruff Yifan, who immediately launches into a lecture about Luhan’s constant tardiness. The smaller just laughs away the scoldings and slips away from the larger man with a weedling, “Ok, captain~”
Lunch is a messy affair, needless to say with 10 grown men piling into a small home restaurant, obviously meant for quieter customers. An old man comes out from the back with a cheerful greeting to the bunch and it’s clear that the place often sees the patronage of the Flying Dragons.
“Lunch is on Hangeng-ge!” Yixing, the dimpled defender chirps and it’s met with a chorus of approval from the team while said man just rolls his eyes good naturedly.
“Why do I always pay?” the tall man asks to no one in particular.
“It’s cause I’m dating your black card and I want to see her more often. Please let me take her out on more dates, ge!” This comes from the ever cheeky Korean and like most of Chen’s jokes, laughter quickly follows behind.
Minseok is slightly overwhelmed by the rukus, much more used to his own company for lunch, but it’s not an unpleasant change. Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to loud soccer teams.
He trades the noisy restaurant for his own quiet apartment to pick up some clothes for the evening and as he chucks down his towel onto the floor, too tired to be organized, drained from the commotion, Minseok wonders when he will crave the companionship of others again.
“Xiumin-ge!”
Minseok pauses, his hand on his locker, water still sliding down his neck and towel slung low on his hips.
“You’re going to Coach’s dinner, right?” Yixing reminds, easy grin hidden from sight for a second as he tugs a casual tee over his head.
All the heads in the locker room turn to stare at the newest member, various expression on their faces, and Minseok can just feel the expectation in the air.
“Of course.”
Smiles break out on each of their faces and Henry even whoops loudly before getting whipped in the face with a wet towel by a snorting defender. They all hustle and bustle about, eventually managing to squeeze out of the locker room in more or less 10 minutes.
Minseok isn’t quite sure how they got to the karaoke bar, but he’s sure that it involved a lot of dangerous jaywalking and haphazardous directions that lead the group up and down alleyways.
Nevertheless, Flying Dragons managed to get where they needed to go and the moment that multiple butts touched chairs, Hangeng had been quick to announce, “Zhou Mi volunteers to pay for tonight!” Zhou Mi’s despairing groan is easily drowned out by enthusiastic cheers.
“Hyung, what do you want to get?” Chen asks, menu flipped open in front of him. His eyes twinkle devilishly and Minseok gets the feeling that he has planned a lot more for this evening than he had mentioned.
Tugging the menu down to let whatever light there was in the room to fall on the laminated paper, Minseok sucked in his lower lip to chew as he slowly digested the Chinese characters. “I suppose I’ll just get some fried chicken.”
With a snap of a wrist flick, Chen snatches the menu out of Minseok’s hands only to flip it over and hand it back to him eagerly. “And what kind of alcohol will you be having?”
Panic stuffs fingers down Minseok’s throat and he fought to swallow it. No alcohol.
Last time had brought disastrous results.
Trying to smear a small smile on his face, the striker replied, “I don’t drink.”
Chen was full on pouting as he unsubtlety nudges the menu back into his hands.
“Just one drink, Xiumin-hyung. It won’t be fun without at least one.”
Shaking his head, Minseok insists, “I don’t drink.”
As though sensing that he was about to cross a line that Minseok had clearly just defined, Chen backs off as quickly as he had come on and the menu is out of his hands and into Zitao’s as Chen gleefully reminds the youngest of the last incident when he had alcohol in his blood and the amount of clothes that he had shed before beginning to dance unabashedly on the table.
Zitao’s blush is high on his tanned cheeks but he gives as good as he gets as he reminds Chen of when he had ran into the streets and began belting out traditional music in his native tongue.
Honestly, things just get more crazy as alcohol is eventually given to them and birthday song sung, a cake brought out from somewhere. The smell of alcohol and deep fry is thick in the air, but everyone’s too excited to care. Minseok keeps to the back, still uneasy with trying to barge in like the easy way Yixing grabs the back of Yifan’s neck to tug the goalkeeper face first into the cake that had mysteriously turned up on the table.
They do get some songs in, the lyrics becoming more and more slurred as the night drags on and Flying Dragons is bubbly over cheer and alcohol, too influenced by each other and Minseok just watches with wary amusement as Chen, who’s as small as him, tries to take on Yifan in a drinking match while Luhan goes off against Zhou Mi. Even Minseok isn’t impervious to the atmosphere and he finds himself engaged in a rather odd conversation that involves Yixing asking him how he had such sculpted arms while his face looked like a child that had yet to lose its baby fat.
Sometime in the night, Coach calls it off early, wielded with the excuse of a wife and a family that he had to return to and the team just sees him off with happy drunken waves.
“Where does everyone go when you guys go out to drink?” Minseok shouts to Yixing, who Minseok had witnessed tossing back 3 shots of tequilla, yet showed no signs of inebriation yet, sometime probably closer to dawn then dusk.
As soon as Yixing turns to Minseok and he sees that the Chinese’s eyes are slightly unfocused, he decides, yeah, it’s time to get all of these guys to where gettingever they need to get to.
“Luhan’s place!” Yixing yells back to the background music of Zitao trying to rap to some American rap song.
“Where’s that!”
“Next to the 7/11 on 15th street and between the supermarket. I’ll show you the way if you help me get these guy to his place!”
“I’m not the one going to be stumbling home at-” Minseok glances at his phone, now precariously beeping, warning him of low battery- “4am!”
“Right on!”
The rest of the evening- morning?- is spent dragging 10 full grown men into taxis and down a few streets to getting Luhan to toss over his keys before hauling their asses into the apartment. Minseok falls asleep the moment his head touches Luhan’s couch cushions, ignoring the pile of groaning soccer player’s by the other striker’s front door. Right now, Minseok’s shoulder hurts a lot and he hates elevators that don’t work.
“Minseok-hyuuuuung.”
Minseok turns with a smile on his lips as he laughs at the high blush on Jongin’s cheeks. Jongin slowly blinks, trying to get everything back in focus and Minseok prompts him. “Yes?”
He watches the younger’s brows knit together in confusion. He seems to have caught the tail of his last thought and smiles drunkenly. “Another drink with me, hyung!”
Minseok peers around Jongin and he even sways a bit on his feet, a few drinks over his usual. No one is trailing Jongin and everyone else to scattering off into the distance trying to stumble their way home. The entire team was well smashed, high off the victory of another game.
“But it’s already so late, Jongin.”
Jongin’s answering grin is cheeky and too bright. “Coach says we get tomorrow off anyway.”
Rolling his eyes, Minseok stalls. “We don’t even have any more drinks.”
The grin doesn’t even falter as Jongin holds up another bottle of soju. He swings the thing from side to side and Minseok loops an arm around the other’s waist to share another drink with his favorite dongsaeng.
Minseok can swear he sees stars in Jongin’s eyes as he laughs, hiccuping at the joke he just made.
Jongin blinks slowly, staring at the empty bottle, his lower lip stuck out. Minseok can’t help the giggle bubbling out from his chest, too drunk to be able to stop it anyway. The younger turns his pout from the bottle to Minseok, brows furrowed.
“What’s funny, hyung?”
“You,” Minseok laughs.
“But I didn’t do anything.”
“You don’t need to.”
Jongin ponders on the statement for a little bit, before cracking into a gleeful grin. “I know, I am funny. You love it.”
And you.
Minseok gulps down the last of the soju to gulp down the words.
Jongin throws his arm onto Minseok’s counter, chin settling on the palm, eyes boring into Minseok.
“What?” Minseok asks, after a stretch of silence makes him squirm under Jongin’s stare.
“Hyung, are you dating anyone?”
The question startles Minseok and he jerks, looking at the younger with wide eyes. He swallows before answering, “No.”
He cocks his head to side, curious, “Why not?”
Minseok avoids his eyes, letting his shoulders tug up and dropping down. “Haven’t asked anyone out lately.”
Jongin processes his answer, “Why?”
“I like someone,” he answers truthfully, alcohol dulling any safety net.
Minseok can almost see Jongin ears perk up. “Who?”
Heartbeat loud in Minseok’s ears, his hands clench into fist and all he can think is ‘it’s now or never, now or never’. He looks up and looks directly into Jongin’s stare and tries to say in his most steady voice, “You.”
“What the hell,” Luhan’s whisper wakes Minseok up from his spot on the couch and Minseok cracks an eye open, reality and dream melding together. His heart is beating fast in his chest but the dream is already slipping away from him and all that he remembers is that moment of trepidation.
Minseok fumbles for his phone that he had set on the coffee table next to the dark green sofa. He had swiped Luhan’s phone charger, assuming since the man in question was passed out somewhere in the house that he didn’t have much need for the charger.
Tapping the home button, Minseok squinted at the device until the lock screen lit up, displaying the time to be 11 in the morning. Normally he’s an early riser, but nothing that occurred last night was to be considered “normal”.
“What happened?”
Luhan’s question brought Minseok out of his thoughts and back to the present. “At what part does your memory stop?” Minseok asks, stifling a yawn and rubs his hands across his jaw.
He squints and frowns, obviously deep in thought. “Lots of bad singing. Yixing screaming something about the rainbow connection. Did Zitao try to strip again? Lots of blurriness. I-I can’t remember anything past Yifan grabbing, is that Henry-ge?” Luhan pauses in his murmuring and pulls his lips down into a frown before shrugging and continuing, “Grabbing Henry and trying to play human catch with Zhou Mi-ge.”
Minseok’s trying to shuffle through his own memories, much less alcohol fuzzy than Luhan’s own, and he nods. “So, right around 2am, then.”
“2am. Not bad. Well. What time did we leave the place?”
He stands, stretching, before popping a few joints, and replying, “Around 4am. Xing told me that your place is where you guys usually go to after drinking. He also directed me to where he lived.”
Luhan eyes the pile of his teammates by the door, all in various states of disarray. Zitao’s missing his shirt, no doubt lost somewhere in Luhan’s apartment, Zhou Mi’s got Yixing’s leg and was currently using it as a pillow and he looks the most serene. It’s clear by Luhan’s expression that he’s not the least bit surprised at the sight.
“High tolerance bastard,” the owner of the apartment mutters, gingerly massaging the temples of his head.
Yixing gently groans from the floor and Luhan is merciless as he kicks the rousing man on the ribs. The human pile is slowly awakening, becoming a writhing mass of confusion and regret as Minseok wanders off to find Luhan’s bathroom before everyone else got up and started demanding for the room.
Deciding that the shower could wait for him to get home, Minseok quickly empties his bladder and splashes cold water onto his face to make him look less dead and a little more like he’s with the living. There’s knocking at the door before it’s abruptly cut off with a gruff cuss. The knocking resumes a moment later, much softer. Minseok can guess what happened and he chuckles. “Door’s unlocked,” he says, taking care to not shout cause god knows what multiple grown men all with hangovers will do to him.
Zitao stumbles into the restroom, muttering a “thanks, ge” before he makes a beeline to the toilet. Minseok slips out of the soon to be war zone just as Yifan more or less walks upright into the restroom, looking like death.
He bites down the “good morning” at the tip of his tongue because Yifan barely has his eyes open and he bumps into the door frame and only grunts in pain a few seconds in delay.
It feels almost liberating, the feeling of no hangover and regret while everyone else in Flying Dragon looks like they want to drag thick curtains over Luhan’s windows.
Minseok peers into Luhan’s cupboards and fridge, accepting grimly that both food storage places were bare, spare for a few sad takeout bags and a couple of packets of ramen.
Sidling up to Luhan who was staring at his kettle on the stovetop with a reluctance Minseok hasn’t seen since he saw it on his classmates’ faces in university, Minseok nudges him, saying that he’ll be back with breakfast. The look on Luhan’s face is as though Minseok had just told him that he Minseok had cleansed humanity of all sin.
When the striker returns with loads of congee and hangover medicine, the team nearly crushes the small man with grateful thanks and Minseok wriggles out with a laugh before Zitao plants a kiss on his cheek.
They all settle in Luhan’s living room with their own bowls and a few people skedaddle after filling their stomachs, other appointments to attend to, but the majority of the team stays, enjoying each other’s company and just like that, Minseok doesn’t think about Korea for a long time.
Group chat > Buttresses 3
Yeol Master: hyung??? where r u?? u didnt answer our kakaos... :<
⊙♡⊙: he was probably just enjoying china, chill, yeol.
Yeol Master: b-b-but hyung!!!
⊙♡⊙: i hope youre having fun, hyung.
Last night’s messages sat in his notification tab. Minseok settled into bed, his face washed and lights off. He had forgotten to check his phone throughout the whole day, time flying by with high laughters, aggressive card playing, and team members draped over each other as they plugged in Luhan’s laptop to his TV to watch movies. The striker hadn’t left the other’s apartment until the sun had crept under the horizon and stars had reminded him that it was time to get on home. His apartment had greeted him with silence and tonight, it was loud after spending the entire day with noise.
Hyung-nim: Hey guys. I’ve been sort of busy all day
The reply is almost instantaneous, probably because Chanyeol was kakaoing his friends or something.
Yeol Master: hyung!!! where were uuuuuuu ;n; yeol missed u
⊙♡⊙: stop talking in 3rd person, you’re not 5 anymore
Minseok can almost imagine the pout on Chanyeol’s lips as he spams back with multiple crying emoticons on kakao to which Kyungsoo just replies with the emoticon that puts out its palm and shakes its head slowly, clearly a ‘no’ emoticon.
Hyung-nim: We hung out at Luhan’s place today. We all went out for dinner yesterday bc it was Coach’s bday. They got drunk so I took them back to Han’s place and I was too tired to get back home.
Yeol Master: luhan? the pretty striker, right?
Hyung-nim: That’s the one
⊙♡⊙: that’s good. is hyung getting closer to the team? settling in?
Kyungsoo was so worrisome sometimes, but Minseok smiled, knowing that he only had the best of intentions in mind.
Hyung-nim: I guess you could say that
Yeol Master: r u making friends, hyung? r u going to leave us?!?!?!?!
More crying emoticons followed.
⊙♡⊙: oh my god, chanyeol, STOP.
Hyung-nim: LOL
⊙♡⊙: but you are making friends, right?
Hyung-nim: yes, yes, mom. yes, i am. it’s...not so bad now.
⊙♡⊙: :) good
now get to sleep. it’s late in beijing.
Yeol Master: goodnight, hyung!!!
Hyung-nim: haha, good night, guys.
Minseok falls asleep with a grin on his lips and his dreams leave him tingly and content.
The season starts and Minseok’s able to fully experience the Flying Dragon’s team synchronicity. Yixing’s face is serene as he easily interferes with a long pass from the other team and quickly passes it to Henry who deftly avoids the larger, clumsier opponents. It’s almost like watching a well oiled machine work, the way Flying Dragon came together. Minseok hadn’t fully realized that he is identified as a member of Flying Dragon until the game ended with the score of 2-1 and the team crashes together, giddy with glee and riding on the coattails of adrenaline while he’s in the middle.
“We did it!” Luhan shrieks in his ear, eyes ablaze with a light and the team echoes his sentiment.
Recaps of the game continue in the locker room and Hangeng teasingly wraps his towel around Minseok’s neck and tugs, laughing boisterously at Minseok’s protests.
Practice seems to be lit with a new kind of motivation as the weather warms up and the passes between him and Luhan become quicker, more accurate, as though they were adapting well to each other.
Now, Minseok constantly accepts the team’s invitations to lunch and get togethers, Yifan eager to jabber in his ear about old Chinese films, Yixing ever more eager to get Minseok to talk more with the team, and Zitao happily trails after him like an overgrown puppy like he does to many of the geges.
Even though Chen is a fellow Korean, Minseok never speaks to him in Korean and when Chen asks curiously why, Minseok just shrugs and replies truthfully, “I don’t like it.” Chen’s eyes are thoughtful and he stills his tongue to observe Minseok. He gets a keen feeling that Chen knows a lot more than he reveals, but Chen is always quick to flash a smile and the conversation rolls on easily. Chen never learns Minseok’s Korean name and Chen keeps his native name to himself.
Perhaps due to all the extra exercises that Minseok has to do with his paired striker, Minseok finds himself spending an extraordinary amount of time with Luhan, or perhaps it was because of the single month between their ages, Minseok finds the doe eyed player gravitating towards him. “Hey Xiumin! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” “Xiumin! Did you see that great pass I just made?” “Morning, Xiumin. Are you free tomorrow? A movie that I’ve been dying to watch just came out” “Your cheeks are so cute! Ah, I just found a new, really good baozi stall! You should try them with me next time!” Luhan’s affection is generous and he’s inquisitive to almost a fault, warming up to him much quicker than when he had first arrived. When they’re taking a water break, he’ll often be handed a bottle by Luhan or when they’re taking a break after lunch and crash at the younger’s place, he’ll find Luhan’s head naturally cushioned on his lap as they doze peacefully in the afternoon sun.
Before he realizes it, Luhan becomes an integral part of Minseok’s day and it feels off if Luhan forgets to do his customary greeting in the morning. But Minseok decides not to dwell on it much, as his memories of Korea fade with each passing day and another day ends with calls of “good night!”
Yixing is always easy to hang around, his calm demeanor makes it appealing for Minseok to invite him out for tea or coffee often, the two usually chatting for awhile before pulling out novels and enjoying them in relative silent just enjoying the company. He’s a good friend, someone who gives you no reason to be nervous. They’re kindred souls, ones who know the value of silence and that being around each other doesn’t mean that words always have to be said. Minseok appreciates it.
What Minseok’s careful to never let his team know is that he stays after evening practice often because the feeling of grass under his cleats help him clear his head and not let him sink in awful loneliness or because he feels like he had an off day that day and stays after to practice the same exercise again and again. It’s not something that he keeps away from the team intentionally but he likes being able to think by himself and honestly, the field represents so much for him. He had left his country, he left his identity, he left everything for football.
Or so he lies to himself.
Summer arrives with the team’s 3rd match of the season and sweltering heat that makes the players eager to cut morning practice a little shorter in favor of air conditioned buildings.
Cicadas sing loud and insistent as Minseok mindlessly goes through the motions of looping the ball in and out of lined up cones and his thoughts wander.
His cell phone goes off, buzzing insistantly from inside his bag.
Frowning, Minseok jogs back to the bench, digging around to find the thing, wondering who it might be. Dragging the ringing device up from the depths of his duffle bag, the screen displays an unknown number, and Minseok swipes his finger across it to accept the call.
“Hello?” Minseok asks tentatively.
“Oppa?” the female voice speaking Korean jolts him and his eyes go wide.
“Oppa?” she repeats and his spine goes rigid.
“Minyun?” he croaks after an eternity.
“Minseok-oppa!” the familiar voice of his younger sister reverberates through the small speaker on his phone.
Static stretches across the phone and Minseok’s left staring at the ground, fists clenched tight. A war wages on in him, one side crying for him to end the call, spit at her to never call him again, but the side that grew up with her, the one that had watched his baby sister gleefully show him her doodles in class, told him to talk to her.
“H-how did you get this number?” the disuse of Korean makes the words sit stilted and heavy on his tongue.
He can hear her hesitation across the line and Minyun meekly squeaks out, “Chanyeol oppa gave it to me.”
Minseok closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
His sister is quick to tack on, “Please don’t be mad at him! He meant only good intentions.”
Leaving his eyes closed, Minseok exhaled, a crash of emotions hurting his head behind his closed eyelids. “I know.”
She gulps - he can hear it - and cautiously asks, “How have you been, oppa? Have you been eating well?”
He nods, as tears prick the corners of his eyes. His baby sister is concerned about him. Swallowing, Minseok tries to steady his voice, “I’ve been ok. Beijing’s very different from Seoul but, but I’ve been coping.” Minseok only opens his eyes to stare at the darkening sky outside the indoor field’s window. “I’ve been eating.”
“That’s good. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I know. Me, too, Minyun.”
“How, how are-” his throat clenches and he can’t get himself to ask him about his parents.
His sister already knows what he wants to ask, she isn’t his closest confidante for nothing, “I won’t lie and say that they’ve been fine, but dad’s been coping the best he can, you know, shuffling himself from work to home, work to home. Ma’s been...hit harder. She cries often.”
His cheeks are wet and he doesn’t know when he had closed his eyes.
“They’ve been healthy, right?”
“I make sure Ma eats.”
“Good. Have you been keeping up to your studies?”
“Of course oppa. What kind of question is that?”
Minseok chokes out a bark of laughter, too afraid to open his eyes or his shakily built dam will burst. “That’s my girl.”
“...I love you, Minseok-oppa.”
Minseok bites hard on his lower lip as he tries to swallow a sob that threatens to tear down his fragile illusion. But he knows that Minyun will know that he’s crying, he can hear the tears and the way her voice wavers that she’s crying, too.
“I love you, Minyun.”
She gives a small sniffle and there’s rustling as she reaches for a tissue. “I miss you a lot.”
“I know.”
“Will you ever come back home?”
Minseok smiles bitterly, humorlessly as he shakes his head. “No.”
A pause.
“I, I know you don’t want to come back home-if you even call it home anymore, but, but I swear, oppa, that when I get enough money one day, I’ll visit you.”
“Yeah. I’ll be waiting, dongsaeng.”
Minseok lingers and so does Minyun, heavy question looming over them that they ignore.
“Minyun!” Minseok hears in the background and he presses his arm harder over his eyes and his lip bleeds from the pressure. It would take 20 lifetimes for him to forget his own mother’s voice.
His sister pulls away from the phone and he hears her faintly answering to whatever their mom wants and when she returns, her voice is even more clogged. “I have to go to dinner, oppa.”
“Be strong for me, Minyun-” his voice dies and Minseok tries again, “You always were the strong one.”
“I-I will. I love you, Minseok-oppa. Good-bye.”
The line dies and his phone beeps once-twice.
“Good bye, baby sister.”
Luhan startles as he hears muffled sobs echo across the empty field. Confused, the striker wanders cautiously to where he can hear it from.
He freezes as he sees Xiumin’s tiny figure with his arm thrown across his face, curled up on the ground near his bag. Luhan nearly bolts to him, but then Xiumin is speaking, speaking in a language he can’t understand and it’s obvious that this is a private moment. Luhan feels like he’s intruding on something that he shouldn’t have seen, but he can’t get his feet to turn him back from where he came from.
Xiumin’s cell phone is pressed up to his face and his cheeks glisten with tear tracks and something in Luhan squeezes painfully. An urge to cradle the smaller man in his arms and to try to soothe him makes him ache and even though it isn’t him crying, Luhan can feel his throat clog with an emotion he can’t name.
The conversation ends and Xiumin’s hand with the phone swings down and Luhan’s frozen, watching as the man he had gotten to know over the months as one of the strongest men, crumples to the ground. Xiumin looks like the world had bitten him, chewed him up, and spit him back out and his chest hurts.
Xiumin is so so vulnerable, head between his arms as he murmurs something in his native language. The scene lasts so long that the sun disappears behind the horizon and the gym is dark, save for a few lights that are always on. Xiumin sits in a small pool of light, unmoving and now unspeaking as his shoulders occasionally trembles.
The shadow he casts is oh so small.
Part I | Part II | Part III
A bright voice calls to him from across the field and Minseok stops, wiping his towel across his forehead. He turns to see the one other Korean, Chen, jogging to him across the field.
He’s happy enough to wait for him to jog to where he is and he waits for whatever Chen has to say. He blurts out quickly in Korean, “Hyung, you don’t have any plans for tonight, do you?”
Minseok pauses, brow furrowed, and soundly answers in Mandarin, “No, I don’t. Why?”
Chen, if he wonders why Minseok had gone back to Mandarin, doesn’t ponder why and just smiles, quick and persuasive. “The team is getting together for dinner since today is Coach’s birthday. Would you like to come along?”
Coach Qu strolls up to the pair and Chen fills him in, “I was just telling Xiumin-ge about dinner tonight since it’s Coach’s birthday and everything. You said that you wanted the entire team here tonight, didn’t you?”
Minseok glances at Chen quickly before trying to put a small smile on his face, slightly unsure, never having accepted their invitations to lunch or dinner before.
“You should join, if you want to, Xiumin. You can come join us,” Coach Qu tries, nodding to Xiumin and he falters.
“Um. I don’t have plans today. Where is it?” Minseok gives in.
Chen is quick enough to tell him that they were just planning to go to the karaoke right after afternoon practice so that he could just bring a change of clothes for after their showers in the locker rooms.
Minseok agrees and before he can scuttle off to go find a new place for lunch (Minseok likes to wander around looking for new places to eat. He doesn’t believe in eating the same thing day after day) Chen invites Minseok to eat lunch with the team.
Shifting his weight to the other foot, Minseok rolls the idea in his head as Luhan wanders up from behind Chen to drape his arm over the shorter one and interjects, “What’s up?”
“Just inviting Xiumin-ge to lunch. I figured you guys wouldn’t mind anyway,” Chen fills in, smacking Luhan’s stomach as he ruffles Chen’s hair. Luhan says ‘oof!’ with a small smile, and retaliates with a pinch to Chen’s side.
“Behave,” Chen hisses at Luhan, in which Luhan just snidely sneers back, “Respect your ge.”
Minseok watches the exchange with an amused smile and before he can stop himself he finds himself agreeing. “Sure.”
Chen eyes light up and bounds back to the team, positively shrieking, “Xiumin-ge said yes to lunch!”
His announcement is met with loud ‘whaaaat’s and the Korean is smirking as he rubs his hands in a greedy manner. Minseok will later find out that they had placed a bet on who would be able to get Minseok to accept their meal invitations, and of course Chen had bet on himself.
“You know, you never agreed to our invitations before,” Luhan murmurs, glancing over at Minseok as they go join the rest of their rambunctious members. “Why the ok today?”
Minseok is not even sure why he agreed today but he doesn’t think that Luhan cares enough to know. So he settles on an easier answer, “Just because.”
It’s not much of an answer but Luhan doesn’t comment on it, the Chinese getting pulled away by a gruff Yifan, who immediately launches into a lecture about Luhan’s constant tardiness. The smaller just laughs away the scoldings and slips away from the larger man with a weedling, “Ok, captain~”
Lunch is a messy affair, needless to say with 10 grown men piling into a small home restaurant, obviously meant for quieter customers. An old man comes out from the back with a cheerful greeting to the bunch and it’s clear that the place often sees the patronage of the Flying Dragons.
“Lunch is on Hangeng-ge!” Yixing, the dimpled defender chirps and it’s met with a chorus of approval from the team while said man just rolls his eyes good naturedly.
“Why do I always pay?” the tall man asks to no one in particular.
“It’s cause I’m dating your black card and I want to see her more often. Please let me take her out on more dates, ge!” This comes from the ever cheeky Korean and like most of Chen’s jokes, laughter quickly follows behind.
Minseok is slightly overwhelmed by the rukus, much more used to his own company for lunch, but it’s not an unpleasant change. Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to loud soccer teams.
He trades the noisy restaurant for his own quiet apartment to pick up some clothes for the evening and as he chucks down his towel onto the floor, too tired to be organized, drained from the commotion, Minseok wonders when he will crave the companionship of others again.
“Xiumin-ge!”
Minseok pauses, his hand on his locker, water still sliding down his neck and towel slung low on his hips.
“You’re going to Coach’s dinner, right?” Yixing reminds, easy grin hidden from sight for a second as he tugs a casual tee over his head.
All the heads in the locker room turn to stare at the newest member, various expression on their faces, and Minseok can just feel the expectation in the air.
“Of course.”
Smiles break out on each of their faces and Henry even whoops loudly before getting whipped in the face with a wet towel by a snorting defender. They all hustle and bustle about, eventually managing to squeeze out of the locker room in more or less 10 minutes.
Minseok isn’t quite sure how they got to the karaoke bar, but he’s sure that it involved a lot of dangerous jaywalking and haphazardous directions that lead the group up and down alleyways.
Nevertheless, Flying Dragons managed to get where they needed to go and the moment that multiple butts touched chairs, Hangeng had been quick to announce, “Zhou Mi volunteers to pay for tonight!” Zhou Mi’s despairing groan is easily drowned out by enthusiastic cheers.
“Hyung, what do you want to get?” Chen asks, menu flipped open in front of him. His eyes twinkle devilishly and Minseok gets the feeling that he has planned a lot more for this evening than he had mentioned.
Tugging the menu down to let whatever light there was in the room to fall on the laminated paper, Minseok sucked in his lower lip to chew as he slowly digested the Chinese characters. “I suppose I’ll just get some fried chicken.”
With a snap of a wrist flick, Chen snatches the menu out of Minseok’s hands only to flip it over and hand it back to him eagerly. “And what kind of alcohol will you be having?”
Panic stuffs fingers down Minseok’s throat and he fought to swallow it. No alcohol.
Last time had brought disastrous results.
Trying to smear a small smile on his face, the striker replied, “I don’t drink.”
Chen was full on pouting as he unsubtlety nudges the menu back into his hands.
“Just one drink, Xiumin-hyung. It won’t be fun without at least one.”
Shaking his head, Minseok insists, “I don’t drink.”
As though sensing that he was about to cross a line that Minseok had clearly just defined, Chen backs off as quickly as he had come on and the menu is out of his hands and into Zitao’s as Chen gleefully reminds the youngest of the last incident when he had alcohol in his blood and the amount of clothes that he had shed before beginning to dance unabashedly on the table.
Zitao’s blush is high on his tanned cheeks but he gives as good as he gets as he reminds Chen of when he had ran into the streets and began belting out traditional music in his native tongue.
Honestly, things just get more crazy as alcohol is eventually given to them and birthday song sung, a cake brought out from somewhere. The smell of alcohol and deep fry is thick in the air, but everyone’s too excited to care. Minseok keeps to the back, still uneasy with trying to barge in like the easy way Yixing grabs the back of Yifan’s neck to tug the goalkeeper face first into the cake that had mysteriously turned up on the table.
They do get some songs in, the lyrics becoming more and more slurred as the night drags on and Flying Dragons is bubbly over cheer and alcohol, too influenced by each other and Minseok just watches with wary amusement as Chen, who’s as small as him, tries to take on Yifan in a drinking match while Luhan goes off against Zhou Mi. Even Minseok isn’t impervious to the atmosphere and he finds himself engaged in a rather odd conversation that involves Yixing asking him how he had such sculpted arms while his face looked like a child that had yet to lose its baby fat.
Sometime in the night, Coach calls it off early, wielded with the excuse of a wife and a family that he had to return to and the team just sees him off with happy drunken waves.
“Where does everyone go when you guys go out to drink?” Minseok shouts to Yixing, who Minseok had witnessed tossing back 3 shots of tequilla, yet showed no signs of inebriation yet, sometime probably closer to dawn then dusk.
As soon as Yixing turns to Minseok and he sees that the Chinese’s eyes are slightly unfocused, he decides, yeah, it’s time to get all of these guys to where gettingever they need to get to.
“Luhan’s place!” Yixing yells back to the background music of Zitao trying to rap to some American rap song.
“Where’s that!”
“Next to the 7/11 on 15th street and between the supermarket. I’ll show you the way if you help me get these guy to his place!”
“I’m not the one going to be stumbling home at-” Minseok glances at his phone, now precariously beeping, warning him of low battery- “4am!”
“Right on!”
The rest of the evening- morning?- is spent dragging 10 full grown men into taxis and down a few streets to getting Luhan to toss over his keys before hauling their asses into the apartment. Minseok falls asleep the moment his head touches Luhan’s couch cushions, ignoring the pile of groaning soccer player’s by the other striker’s front door. Right now, Minseok’s shoulder hurts a lot and he hates elevators that don’t work.
“Minseok-hyuuuuung.”
Minseok turns with a smile on his lips as he laughs at the high blush on Jongin’s cheeks. Jongin slowly blinks, trying to get everything back in focus and Minseok prompts him. “Yes?”
He watches the younger’s brows knit together in confusion. He seems to have caught the tail of his last thought and smiles drunkenly. “Another drink with me, hyung!”
Minseok peers around Jongin and he even sways a bit on his feet, a few drinks over his usual. No one is trailing Jongin and everyone else to scattering off into the distance trying to stumble their way home. The entire team was well smashed, high off the victory of another game.
“But it’s already so late, Jongin.”
Jongin’s answering grin is cheeky and too bright. “Coach says we get tomorrow off anyway.”
Rolling his eyes, Minseok stalls. “We don’t even have any more drinks.”
The grin doesn’t even falter as Jongin holds up another bottle of soju. He swings the thing from side to side and Minseok loops an arm around the other’s waist to share another drink with his favorite dongsaeng.
Minseok can swear he sees stars in Jongin’s eyes as he laughs, hiccuping at the joke he just made.
Jongin blinks slowly, staring at the empty bottle, his lower lip stuck out. Minseok can’t help the giggle bubbling out from his chest, too drunk to be able to stop it anyway. The younger turns his pout from the bottle to Minseok, brows furrowed.
“What’s funny, hyung?”
“You,” Minseok laughs.
“But I didn’t do anything.”
“You don’t need to.”
Jongin ponders on the statement for a little bit, before cracking into a gleeful grin. “I know, I am funny. You love it.”
And you.
Minseok gulps down the last of the soju to gulp down the words.
Jongin throws his arm onto Minseok’s counter, chin settling on the palm, eyes boring into Minseok.
“What?” Minseok asks, after a stretch of silence makes him squirm under Jongin’s stare.
“Hyung, are you dating anyone?”
The question startles Minseok and he jerks, looking at the younger with wide eyes. He swallows before answering, “No.”
He cocks his head to side, curious, “Why not?”
Minseok avoids his eyes, letting his shoulders tug up and dropping down. “Haven’t asked anyone out lately.”
Jongin processes his answer, “Why?”
“I like someone,” he answers truthfully, alcohol dulling any safety net.
Minseok can almost see Jongin ears perk up. “Who?”
Heartbeat loud in Minseok’s ears, his hands clench into fist and all he can think is ‘it’s now or never, now or never’. He looks up and looks directly into Jongin’s stare and tries to say in his most steady voice, “You.”
“What the hell,” Luhan’s whisper wakes Minseok up from his spot on the couch and Minseok cracks an eye open, reality and dream melding together. His heart is beating fast in his chest but the dream is already slipping away from him and all that he remembers is that moment of trepidation.
Minseok fumbles for his phone that he had set on the coffee table next to the dark green sofa. He had swiped Luhan’s phone charger, assuming since the man in question was passed out somewhere in the house that he didn’t have much need for the charger.
Tapping the home button, Minseok squinted at the device until the lock screen lit up, displaying the time to be 11 in the morning. Normally he’s an early riser, but nothing that occurred last night was to be considered “normal”.
“What happened?”
Luhan’s question brought Minseok out of his thoughts and back to the present. “At what part does your memory stop?” Minseok asks, stifling a yawn and rubs his hands across his jaw.
He squints and frowns, obviously deep in thought. “Lots of bad singing. Yixing screaming something about the rainbow connection. Did Zitao try to strip again? Lots of blurriness. I-I can’t remember anything past Yifan grabbing, is that Henry-ge?” Luhan pauses in his murmuring and pulls his lips down into a frown before shrugging and continuing, “Grabbing Henry and trying to play human catch with Zhou Mi-ge.”
Minseok’s trying to shuffle through his own memories, much less alcohol fuzzy than Luhan’s own, and he nods. “So, right around 2am, then.”
“2am. Not bad. Well. What time did we leave the place?”
He stands, stretching, before popping a few joints, and replying, “Around 4am. Xing told me that your place is where you guys usually go to after drinking. He also directed me to where he lived.”
Luhan eyes the pile of his teammates by the door, all in various states of disarray. Zitao’s missing his shirt, no doubt lost somewhere in Luhan’s apartment, Zhou Mi’s got Yixing’s leg and was currently using it as a pillow and he looks the most serene. It’s clear by Luhan’s expression that he’s not the least bit surprised at the sight.
“High tolerance bastard,” the owner of the apartment mutters, gingerly massaging the temples of his head.
Yixing gently groans from the floor and Luhan is merciless as he kicks the rousing man on the ribs. The human pile is slowly awakening, becoming a writhing mass of confusion and regret as Minseok wanders off to find Luhan’s bathroom before everyone else got up and started demanding for the room.
Deciding that the shower could wait for him to get home, Minseok quickly empties his bladder and splashes cold water onto his face to make him look less dead and a little more like he’s with the living. There’s knocking at the door before it’s abruptly cut off with a gruff cuss. The knocking resumes a moment later, much softer. Minseok can guess what happened and he chuckles. “Door’s unlocked,” he says, taking care to not shout cause god knows what multiple grown men all with hangovers will do to him.
Zitao stumbles into the restroom, muttering a “thanks, ge” before he makes a beeline to the toilet. Minseok slips out of the soon to be war zone just as Yifan more or less walks upright into the restroom, looking like death.
He bites down the “good morning” at the tip of his tongue because Yifan barely has his eyes open and he bumps into the door frame and only grunts in pain a few seconds in delay.
It feels almost liberating, the feeling of no hangover and regret while everyone else in Flying Dragon looks like they want to drag thick curtains over Luhan’s windows.
Minseok peers into Luhan’s cupboards and fridge, accepting grimly that both food storage places were bare, spare for a few sad takeout bags and a couple of packets of ramen.
Sidling up to Luhan who was staring at his kettle on the stovetop with a reluctance Minseok hasn’t seen since he saw it on his classmates’ faces in university, Minseok nudges him, saying that he’ll be back with breakfast. The look on Luhan’s face is as though Minseok had just told him that he Minseok had cleansed humanity of all sin.
When the striker returns with loads of congee and hangover medicine, the team nearly crushes the small man with grateful thanks and Minseok wriggles out with a laugh before Zitao plants a kiss on his cheek.
They all settle in Luhan’s living room with their own bowls and a few people skedaddle after filling their stomachs, other appointments to attend to, but the majority of the team stays, enjoying each other’s company and just like that, Minseok doesn’t think about Korea for a long time.
Group chat > Buttresses 3
Yeol Master: hyung??? where r u?? u didnt answer our kakaos... :<
⊙♡⊙: he was probably just enjoying china, chill, yeol.
Yeol Master: b-b-but hyung!!!
⊙♡⊙: i hope youre having fun, hyung.
Last night’s messages sat in his notification tab. Minseok settled into bed, his face washed and lights off. He had forgotten to check his phone throughout the whole day, time flying by with high laughters, aggressive card playing, and team members draped over each other as they plugged in Luhan’s laptop to his TV to watch movies. The striker hadn’t left the other’s apartment until the sun had crept under the horizon and stars had reminded him that it was time to get on home. His apartment had greeted him with silence and tonight, it was loud after spending the entire day with noise.
Hyung-nim: Hey guys. I’ve been sort of busy all day
The reply is almost instantaneous, probably because Chanyeol was kakaoing his friends or something.
Yeol Master: hyung!!! where were uuuuuuu ;n; yeol missed u
⊙♡⊙: stop talking in 3rd person, you’re not 5 anymore
Minseok can almost imagine the pout on Chanyeol’s lips as he spams back with multiple crying emoticons on kakao to which Kyungsoo just replies with the emoticon that puts out its palm and shakes its head slowly, clearly a ‘no’ emoticon.
Hyung-nim: We hung out at Luhan’s place today. We all went out for dinner yesterday bc it was Coach’s bday. They got drunk so I took them back to Han’s place and I was too tired to get back home.
Yeol Master: luhan? the pretty striker, right?
Hyung-nim: That’s the one
⊙♡⊙: that’s good. is hyung getting closer to the team? settling in?
Kyungsoo was so worrisome sometimes, but Minseok smiled, knowing that he only had the best of intentions in mind.
Hyung-nim: I guess you could say that
Yeol Master: r u making friends, hyung? r u going to leave us?!?!?!?!
More crying emoticons followed.
⊙♡⊙: oh my god, chanyeol, STOP.
Hyung-nim: LOL
⊙♡⊙: but you are making friends, right?
Hyung-nim: yes, yes, mom. yes, i am. it’s...not so bad now.
⊙♡⊙: :) good
now get to sleep. it’s late in beijing.
Yeol Master: goodnight, hyung!!!
Hyung-nim: haha, good night, guys.
Minseok falls asleep with a grin on his lips and his dreams leave him tingly and content.
The season starts and Minseok’s able to fully experience the Flying Dragon’s team synchronicity. Yixing’s face is serene as he easily interferes with a long pass from the other team and quickly passes it to Henry who deftly avoids the larger, clumsier opponents. It’s almost like watching a well oiled machine work, the way Flying Dragon came together. Minseok hadn’t fully realized that he is identified as a member of Flying Dragon until the game ended with the score of 2-1 and the team crashes together, giddy with glee and riding on the coattails of adrenaline while he’s in the middle.
“We did it!” Luhan shrieks in his ear, eyes ablaze with a light and the team echoes his sentiment.
Recaps of the game continue in the locker room and Hangeng teasingly wraps his towel around Minseok’s neck and tugs, laughing boisterously at Minseok’s protests.
Practice seems to be lit with a new kind of motivation as the weather warms up and the passes between him and Luhan become quicker, more accurate, as though they were adapting well to each other.
Now, Minseok constantly accepts the team’s invitations to lunch and get togethers, Yifan eager to jabber in his ear about old Chinese films, Yixing ever more eager to get Minseok to talk more with the team, and Zitao happily trails after him like an overgrown puppy like he does to many of the geges.
Even though Chen is a fellow Korean, Minseok never speaks to him in Korean and when Chen asks curiously why, Minseok just shrugs and replies truthfully, “I don’t like it.” Chen’s eyes are thoughtful and he stills his tongue to observe Minseok. He gets a keen feeling that Chen knows a lot more than he reveals, but Chen is always quick to flash a smile and the conversation rolls on easily. Chen never learns Minseok’s Korean name and Chen keeps his native name to himself.
Perhaps due to all the extra exercises that Minseok has to do with his paired striker, Minseok finds himself spending an extraordinary amount of time with Luhan, or perhaps it was because of the single month between their ages, Minseok finds the doe eyed player gravitating towards him. “Hey Xiumin! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” “Xiumin! Did you see that great pass I just made?” “Morning, Xiumin. Are you free tomorrow? A movie that I’ve been dying to watch just came out” “Your cheeks are so cute! Ah, I just found a new, really good baozi stall! You should try them with me next time!” Luhan’s affection is generous and he’s inquisitive to almost a fault, warming up to him much quicker than when he had first arrived. When they’re taking a water break, he’ll often be handed a bottle by Luhan or when they’re taking a break after lunch and crash at the younger’s place, he’ll find Luhan’s head naturally cushioned on his lap as they doze peacefully in the afternoon sun.
Before he realizes it, Luhan becomes an integral part of Minseok’s day and it feels off if Luhan forgets to do his customary greeting in the morning. But Minseok decides not to dwell on it much, as his memories of Korea fade with each passing day and another day ends with calls of “good night!”
Yixing is always easy to hang around, his calm demeanor makes it appealing for Minseok to invite him out for tea or coffee often, the two usually chatting for awhile before pulling out novels and enjoying them in relative silent just enjoying the company. He’s a good friend, someone who gives you no reason to be nervous. They’re kindred souls, ones who know the value of silence and that being around each other doesn’t mean that words always have to be said. Minseok appreciates it.
What Minseok’s careful to never let his team know is that he stays after evening practice often because the feeling of grass under his cleats help him clear his head and not let him sink in awful loneliness or because he feels like he had an off day that day and stays after to practice the same exercise again and again. It’s not something that he keeps away from the team intentionally but he likes being able to think by himself and honestly, the field represents so much for him. He had left his country, he left his identity, he left everything for football.
Or so he lies to himself.
Summer arrives with the team’s 3rd match of the season and sweltering heat that makes the players eager to cut morning practice a little shorter in favor of air conditioned buildings.
Cicadas sing loud and insistent as Minseok mindlessly goes through the motions of looping the ball in and out of lined up cones and his thoughts wander.
His cell phone goes off, buzzing insistantly from inside his bag.
Frowning, Minseok jogs back to the bench, digging around to find the thing, wondering who it might be. Dragging the ringing device up from the depths of his duffle bag, the screen displays an unknown number, and Minseok swipes his finger across it to accept the call.
“Hello?” Minseok asks tentatively.
“Oppa?” the female voice speaking Korean jolts him and his eyes go wide.
“Oppa?” she repeats and his spine goes rigid.
“Minyun?” he croaks after an eternity.
“Minseok-oppa!” the familiar voice of his younger sister reverberates through the small speaker on his phone.
Static stretches across the phone and Minseok’s left staring at the ground, fists clenched tight. A war wages on in him, one side crying for him to end the call, spit at her to never call him again, but the side that grew up with her, the one that had watched his baby sister gleefully show him her doodles in class, told him to talk to her.
“H-how did you get this number?” the disuse of Korean makes the words sit stilted and heavy on his tongue.
He can hear her hesitation across the line and Minyun meekly squeaks out, “Chanyeol oppa gave it to me.”
Minseok closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
His sister is quick to tack on, “Please don’t be mad at him! He meant only good intentions.”
Leaving his eyes closed, Minseok exhaled, a crash of emotions hurting his head behind his closed eyelids. “I know.”
She gulps - he can hear it - and cautiously asks, “How have you been, oppa? Have you been eating well?”
He nods, as tears prick the corners of his eyes. His baby sister is concerned about him. Swallowing, Minseok tries to steady his voice, “I’ve been ok. Beijing’s very different from Seoul but, but I’ve been coping.” Minseok only opens his eyes to stare at the darkening sky outside the indoor field’s window. “I’ve been eating.”
“That’s good. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I know. Me, too, Minyun.”
“How, how are-” his throat clenches and he can’t get himself to ask him about his parents.
His sister already knows what he wants to ask, she isn’t his closest confidante for nothing, “I won’t lie and say that they’ve been fine, but dad’s been coping the best he can, you know, shuffling himself from work to home, work to home. Ma’s been...hit harder. She cries often.”
His cheeks are wet and he doesn’t know when he had closed his eyes.
“They’ve been healthy, right?”
“I make sure Ma eats.”
“Good. Have you been keeping up to your studies?”
“Of course oppa. What kind of question is that?”
Minseok chokes out a bark of laughter, too afraid to open his eyes or his shakily built dam will burst. “That’s my girl.”
“...I love you, Minseok-oppa.”
Minseok bites hard on his lower lip as he tries to swallow a sob that threatens to tear down his fragile illusion. But he knows that Minyun will know that he’s crying, he can hear the tears and the way her voice wavers that she’s crying, too.
“I love you, Minyun.”
She gives a small sniffle and there’s rustling as she reaches for a tissue. “I miss you a lot.”
“I know.”
“Will you ever come back home?”
Minseok smiles bitterly, humorlessly as he shakes his head. “No.”
A pause.
“I, I know you don’t want to come back home-if you even call it home anymore, but, but I swear, oppa, that when I get enough money one day, I’ll visit you.”
“Yeah. I’ll be waiting, dongsaeng.”
Minseok lingers and so does Minyun, heavy question looming over them that they ignore.
“Minyun!” Minseok hears in the background and he presses his arm harder over his eyes and his lip bleeds from the pressure. It would take 20 lifetimes for him to forget his own mother’s voice.
His sister pulls away from the phone and he hears her faintly answering to whatever their mom wants and when she returns, her voice is even more clogged. “I have to go to dinner, oppa.”
“Be strong for me, Minyun-” his voice dies and Minseok tries again, “You always were the strong one.”
“I-I will. I love you, Minseok-oppa. Good-bye.”
The line dies and his phone beeps once-twice.
“Good bye, baby sister.”
Luhan startles as he hears muffled sobs echo across the empty field. Confused, the striker wanders cautiously to where he can hear it from.
He freezes as he sees Xiumin’s tiny figure with his arm thrown across his face, curled up on the ground near his bag. Luhan nearly bolts to him, but then Xiumin is speaking, speaking in a language he can’t understand and it’s obvious that this is a private moment. Luhan feels like he’s intruding on something that he shouldn’t have seen, but he can’t get his feet to turn him back from where he came from.
Xiumin’s cell phone is pressed up to his face and his cheeks glisten with tear tracks and something in Luhan squeezes painfully. An urge to cradle the smaller man in his arms and to try to soothe him makes him ache and even though it isn’t him crying, Luhan can feel his throat clog with an emotion he can’t name.
The conversation ends and Xiumin’s hand with the phone swings down and Luhan’s frozen, watching as the man he had gotten to know over the months as one of the strongest men, crumples to the ground. Xiumin looks like the world had bitten him, chewed him up, and spit him back out and his chest hurts.
Xiumin is so so vulnerable, head between his arms as he murmurs something in his native language. The scene lasts so long that the sun disappears behind the horizon and the gym is dark, save for a few lights that are always on. Xiumin sits in a small pool of light, unmoving and now unspeaking as his shoulders occasionally trembles.
The shadow he casts is oh so small.
Part I | Part II | Part III