TABULA RASA; XIUHAN, PG-13 part 1
Title: Tabula Rasa
Paring: Xiuhan, ninja!Baeksoo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 10454
Summary: Luhan is the first and last thing that Minseok wants to remember.
Notes:Huge shoutout to my understanding betas S and J. And of course the hugest shoutout to vainillalove for the great prompt of this entire mess ♥
"Tabula Rasa" means blank slate and was taken from the idea of John Locke's philosophy that minds begin as empty slates.
Written for theluminations
The end begins on a Wednesday.
But the beginning starts on a Monday, Monday evening to be exact.
Minseok blinks up at the cafe’s sign for the third time to make sure that he’s at the correct place. He’s 15 minutes early, but that’s characteristic of him. He never likes to be late for anything, if anything, he prefers to be early.
There’s no one there yet, not surprising since he did came a bit early, but the cafe’s already set up, little bowls of ground coffee spread out across the countertop, chairs set up in front each bowl. Even though he hasn’t step foot into the shop, he knows exactly which chair he’s going to go for.
Minseok’s not antisocial, he’s just prefers his own company-or at least that’s what he tells Jongin. Jongin had complained that Minseok only has like, 3 friends, excluding his family and he spent way too much time cooped up in either his office or his home. Minseok had tried to protest but Jongin put on that puppy dog look that had always made Minseok squirmed and felt like all his arguments were useless. Instead of wasting his time, Minseok had heaved a sigh and promised to sign up for a class to try to meet new people and Jongin’s tackling hug had made signing up for this barista class worth it.
Until now he has been standing in front of the cafe. He wonders if this is worthy of his time or if he could have just stayed home to work on that last sketch that he just couldn’t get right. At least the class had something that he was interested in. When he was in high school he had thought about opening up his own cafe but that dream faded when he fell in love with interior designing.
The bell above the door rings cheerily, alerting the employees that he’s here and when Minseok sits down on the the chair that he had chosen outside, an employee who’s got too big of a smile emerges from the back and greets him.
Minseok tries to smile back at the man, eyes dusting over the “Kim Jongdae” nametag to return the greeting.
“What brings you to this class?” Kim Jongdae asks, leaning over the counter and not looking like he’s about to leave any moment. Minseok sighs, resigning himself to the conversation.
Ok, maybe Jongin is right, he is a little rusty in easy conversation. He hasn’t really done small talk outside of his customers which mainly focused around the customer and their preferences since his college days, which are long over. “My friend said that I needed to go out and meet new people.” Honesty is easier than making up a long winded story.
Kim Jongdae’s easy laughter reminds him of when he was still in college-young and without a worry in the world outside of essay deadlines. “Really here for the content, aren’t you?” the barista jokes and Minseok cracks a smile.
“I do have an interest beyond my daily cup of coffee, really. I figured that if I had to do something, it might as well be something I’m interested in,” Minseok shrugs, “I’m Kim Minseok.”
“Kim Jongdae,” he exchanges, and Minseok doesn’t think that this class will be too bad. He can already imagine the look on Jongin’s face when he tells him that he managed to make somewhat of a new friend.
The time for the class to begin ticks down and the occasional bell rings increases in frequency as more student file in until there’s a total of 14 people sitting on the chairs and the noise level rises. There are new people, like Minseok, who don’t know anyone at all and are rather shy, and there’s a few pairs of friends who decided to take the class together and they’re noticeably chattier than the others.
7:30 arrives and they’re still missing one person, the seat to the left of Minseok empty.
“Looks like we’re missing a friend, but they can still join if they come,” Jongdae says out loud, clearly indicating the beginning of class and the noise level die down.
The bell doesn’t ring again until 7:53 when Luhan barges into the cafe and into Minseok’s life.
“Hello!” Jongdae greets and the class turns from their fragrant bowls of coffee beans to stare at the awfully pretty newcomer.
The latecomer flushes at the attention and the moment he steps into the light is when Minseok really notices how attractive he is. Soft tones of pink and a dark streak of red come to Minseok’s mind when he sees the man. Hes got a delicate nose and a defined jawline that end up into a pixie, feminine look. While his face is suggestively pretty, his broad shoulders and suggestion of muscle is very masculine.
“Hello,” the latecomer replies when he comes up to the table, placing his things down by the chair next to Minseok. He’s still a little pink in the ears and cheeks but it doesn’t take away from the prettiness.
“We were a little afraid that you weren’t going to come,” Jongdae says in a light manner that has the man ducking sheepishly.
“Sorry, didn’t notice the time.” Minseok frowns, something a little off in the man’s way of speaking triggering it. There’s something in there that makes Minseok blink.
“I’m sorry for being late,” the man says quietly. It’s definitely a male voice, accented and not quite falling naturally on all the words.
“It’s all good, we were just getting started anyway,” the instructor says and that was the end of it. Jongdae turns back to the class to continue on what he had been saying before he was interrupted.
The latecomer sits to the left of Minseok, shuffling his things underneath his stool. Minseok doesn't really pay him much attention beyond a glance, returning his attention back to the barista and his little bowl of grounds in front of him.
"Did I miss much?"
"I'm sorry?" Minseok says on instinct, mind still half listening to Jongdae. Was he addressing him?
Up close, the stranger's looks aren't quite as distracting. Beyond the overall delicate look, he has a strong jawline and lines underneath his eyes that help him look less flawless, more human. Minseok doesn't know why, but the little imperfections calm Minseok down. He purses his lips together, glancing unsurely at the bowl in front of him and at Jongdae. "Uh," he says lowly, "Did I, uh, miss a lot?"
"Oh." Minseok absently picks up the miniature teapot, his other hand cupping the bottom. It's warm and the sensation distracts Minseok enough it takes him a moment to remember the man's question. "No, we were just getting started. He was only introducing the differences between coffees from different places."
The stranger gives him a relieved smile, his hands darting out to pick up the teapot, trying to mimic Jongdae's smooth pouring. His hands are sure, different than Minseok's hesitant tipping in copying the ascent of the spout.
Jongdae's voice is a little on the higher side, but he speaks with an energy that contrasts the calm, careful way his hands move at steeping the coffee. As the hot water drips through the filter, the aroma of coffee lifts into the air and Minseok breathes in deeply, relishing in the warm tones. He's a good teacher, but Minseok is an unsure beginner so his hands tremble slightly. Jongdae's encouraging, coming around the bar to help each student through each step of the steep.
It's interesting how Jongdae manages to make the 2 hour class zip by and before Minseok realizes, it's the end of the class and they've covered the basics of steeping. The next lesson promises proper grinding and each student is allowed to take home their brewed coffee. Now that the lesson is over, Minseok is eager to go home, to start the project that he's been stuck on, warm colors and accents of bitter flooding his imagination.
He's the first one out of the door.
Minseok's flipping through a paint catalogue searching for the deep brown in his mind when the phone rings. He glances irritably, a habit when he's deep in work, but the irritation dissipates when he sees Jongin's self selected nickname on the caller id.
“Hello?”
“Hyung! I was wondering if you were alive,” Jongin teases, something he always does when he talks to Minseok.
“Nope, I’m just speaking to you from the afterlife,” he says without skipping a beat, eyes idly skimming over the catalogue.
“Followed the light, huh. Told you not to,” the younger snorts, “Anyway, how was the class?”
Minseok pauses, tilting the page this way and that trying to see how the light catches the paint. “What class?”
He can hear Jongin’s exasperation through the phone when he sighs. “The barista class! That coffee thing you wanted to learn about?”
He frowns at the paints and flips the page, trying to remember. “Ah, that one in Sinchon? Yeah, yeah it was good.”
“Met anyone new?”
Unbidden, the latecomer’s face pops up and Minseok blinks. “Uh, yeah. The barista was really nice.”
“Please don’t tell me you only spoke to the teacher.”
“Uh.”
“Hyung! You have to open your mouth and talk to other people, you know.”
“I know, I know, jeez, Jongin-ah. Between the two of us, who is older?”
“Mentally? Me,” Jongin cheekily replies and Minseok makes a playful clicking noise with his tongue, warning the younger, who just laughs.
“I gotta run, hyung, but our usual on Saturday?”
Minseok hums, affirming and the line dies, the interior designer placing down the phone to resume his hunt for that perfect shade of mahogany.
It’s the first of the next thousand times Luhan springs into his mind.
Luhan was charming, his little Chinese accent endearing. He uses his language barrier to break down Minseok’s barrier.
It’s just the beginning of spring, where winter is starting to hint on warmer weather. There are buds on the trees that line the streets of Sinchon and it’s warm, sun out, cool breeze. It’s a big day in Minseok’s mind because he is meeting Luhan at the coffee shop they met at. Jongdae and Minseok are fast friends by now, but it’s not his shift today.
It’s kind of funny how casual it is. They’re just sitting there, sipping their respective cups of coffee, having met often because Luhan had decided that he needed a Korean friend in order to improve his Korean. Luhan places his cup down after sipping and says, oh so casually, “Hey, Minseok?”
Minseok glances up from his phone screen, displaying the stats of the new players of his favorite team and he hums, expecting Luhan to ask something like do you think the games this year’s going to be as bad as the last? or maybe even do you want to grab some dinner after this?. How natural the Korean sounds, Minseok doesn’t pay attention to.
But instead Luhan asks, “Will you go out with me?”
Minseok nearly says, ‘Yeah, sure. Do you just want me to help hold your groceries?’ but his brain catches up and it sets his heart off in double time after pausing it. “What?” he says instead.
Luhan smiles, this time a little wobbly one that says he’s actually really nervous. “Will you date me?”
Minseok blinks rapidly, words stuck in his throat. Silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity, while memories of Luhan, memories of that odd way his heart would race when Luhan lay his head down in Minseok’s lap when he got sleepy watching the film, or the way he’d stumble into his kitchen on some late Sunday mornings and Luhan would be in there being the habitual early riser. The answer’s already there.
“Yes,” Minseok whispers and he can tell by the way Luhan’s brows furrow in worry that he didn’t really hear him.
He glances around the cafe, empty of customers and even the barista’s in the back. It gives him a boost of confidence. “Yes,” he says louder as the only warning, before he surges up and kisses Luhan blindly.
When his butt hits his chair and his eyes are open again, Luhan’s sitting stick straight, eyes wide, mouth open in amazement.
His face feels so, so hot and he’s dying on the inside, knowing that it’s completely out of his character but he can’t shrink back.
The silence stretches on for another eternity.
Luhan stands, chair screeching back and he takes 2 steps to come around the table. Luhan has the softest touch when he tips Minseok head back, asking with his eyes Can I?. Whatever Luhan was looking for, he finds the answer in Minseok’s unblinking wide eyes and Minseok melts at their second kiss.
It’s the first time he melts for Luhan but it’s not the last, with every kiss making Minseok’s knees weak and his cheeks flush. He’s so in love but it takes him so long to say those 3 words.
((It takes Minseok hours later when it finally sinks in that Luhan is his boyfriend, that Luhan’s Korean wasn’t as stiff as it normally was, jumbled grammar straightening out. It takes Minseok 6 months to realize that Luhan spoke fluent Korean and 6 years to figure out that Luhan isn’t the one for him.))
Minseok’s shy, easily flinching at the softest of touches. He’s self conscious and he tries to blame the consciousness more or less due to his artistic nature. But Minseok thinks of himself as the luckiest man in the world because Luhan doesn’t mind. Luhan, who’s the touchiest, most affectionate person he has ever met, doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind when he notices Minseok start to slip his hand out his his, he doesn’t stop the other, because he knows that when Minseok feels comfortable enough, he’ll bring his hand right back. He doesn’t mind being the one to press soft i love yous into Minseok’s nape when they’re alone together and instead of answering back, Minseok will just shiver and his fingers will tighten at Luhan’s sides. He doesn’t even mind the messes of breakfasts that Minseok tries to bring him on Sunday mornings as apologies for being too afraid to say the words back. He doesn’t even mind that it takes Minseok almost an entire year to whisper i love you, too back, he’s even pleasantly surprised, drawing back to look at his boyfriend’s quickly reddening face.
He doesn’t even mind when Minseok begins to drift away.
It’s the middle of winter and it’s a Wednesday evening. It’s deathly cold outside and the atmosphere between the two isn’t much better. At first glance, it’s like nothing wrong.
They’re draped across the couch, limbs tangled together, but it’s quiet, only the television going. It’s Wednesday and they’re both home after work, the usual how was work? how was your day? already been said and answered and the conversation just dies. It’s like a fading flame, their relationship, and it’s only been a few years and they’ve burned out. They know it but no one’s brave enough to snuff out the dying fire.
They used to jabber for afternoons and nights, never seeming like they needed anything else but the other’s company. It’s mocking them now, sitting together out of habit.
Minseok thinks that they’re pathetic, too afraid to step out of this routine they’ve made, too scared to say the words that’ll end them completely.
(--Luhan thinks so, too.)
It’s not like they don’t love each other anymore. Luhan still loves Minseok and Minseok still loves Luhan but it’s not the same love. It’s not the love that’s eternal or even passionate anymore, it’s the love that appreciates routine, appreciates static things. It’s not the love that the both of them had started out with.
It’s the familiarity that they both find comfort in. Luhan can finish the end of Minseok’s sentences, Minseok can walk into a restaurant and order food for the both of them, and they know each other like the backs of their hands.
Minseok wants to burn away that familiarity.
In reality, they should break up. Say the dreaded “I think we should go our separate ways”. It hovers, heavy and unsaid in every action. From the turned backs in the morning, to the 10 rare texts they exchange each month.
10pm rolls around and Minseok turns off the TV, saying that it’s time for them to sleep. Luhan agrees, not having anything to disagree on.
They slide into bed facing opposite directions.
Like every other night, Luhan will be the first to fall asleep and Minseok will soon follow him but tonight, it’s suffocating. The words are thick in his throat. Tonight is different.
Minseok swallows.
“Luhan?” Minseok whispers to the dark room, not sure if he’s more scared that Luhan does or doesn’t hear him.
His heart stops in his chest when Luhan hums back.
Now or never. Now or never nowornevernowornever.
“We should break up.”
He stops breathing and the silence is deafening. Luhan is holding his breath too.
Luhan’s voice only slightly wavers when he asks, “Is that what you really want?” Minseok is thankful that the room is dark, that he’s facing away from Luhan, that he can’t see the heartbreak on Luhan’s face that he can hear in his voice. His eyes sting.
Short answers. “Yes.” Minseok squeezes his eyes shut and the only difference is that he can feel heat slice down his face. Tears. He’s crying.
Luhan exhales and it’s so, so loud in the dark room. ((Once upon a time, Minseok would have gloried in Luhan’s exhale, would have teased him about how fast he’s breathing, how pretty his flush is, how easy it is to rile him up and Luhan would have reached up to grab at Minseok’s shoulders and shut him up by nipping hard at Minseok’s lower lip.))
“If that’s what you want.” Luhan takes it quietly, like the death of their relationship.
They don’t say anything else that night but it’s not like they have many words left between them, anyway.
Thursday morning comes like it does after every Wednesday night. Minseok’s the one up first, needing to get up 30 minutes earlier than Luhan to commute and today, when he flicks the alarm off and sits up, sliding out of bed, he pauses to look at Luhan’s sleeping form. He begins to wonder when they fell so out of love.
Then his phone beeps and he hustles along his morning routine.
When it’s Luhan’s turn to get up and prepare for work, there’s a bowl of cereal sitting rather pathetically on the counter. Luhan works absently at his tie, always ending up a little more tilted to the right than center ((Minseok used to teasingly scold him about it but he’d always be there to fix it, aligning it in the center and finishing up by tilting his chin up demanding a kiss for his services. Luhan had used to be more than glad to pay his fee)) and wanders up to the lone bowl. There’s a note on the napkin placed on to the right of the bowl and it says in Minseok’s neat handwriting ‘good morning.’
Luhan blinks at the note, feeling the dryness from crying last night. It’s so normal. It’s like nothing had changed. Like Minseok hadn’t said the words that tilted his axis.
He almost has to take a second to remember why his eyes are red.
Minseok’s note ends up in the trashcan, crumpled and damp.
What do we do now?
The question hangs heavy over the apartment. It’s been a few days since they’ve become strangers occupying the same home and the excuses to be out of the house are quickly running out. Luhan grabs a co-worker’s arm when the clock hits 6 and asks them if they’re up for a meal, because Luhan isn’t up to see Minseok come home at 6:30. Minseok signs up for a gym membership, going back to his college hobby, with the excuse that he thinks that just because he’s nearing 27, it shouldn’t mean that he should have the body of a desk worker.
The apartment stays dark until one or the other wanders home, cautiously opening the door to see if the other is home and the sigh of relief is always followed by a pang of guilt.
It’s only the middle of the month but in a rare moment where the two of them are at home and both awake, they agree to not renew the lease. No one wants to keep the apartment and neither are ones for lingering. Too many memories are stained into every inch of the apartment. They need to move on.
The days slowly drag by.
“Hyung? Are you alright?”
Minseok blinks, coming back into the restaurant. “Huh?”
Jongin worries his lower lip and repeats, “Are you alright? You’ve been so out of it, lately.”
Minseok’s guilty glance is sent over to the water glass and his chopsticks stab absently at his noodles.
“What’s the matter? Is it work? You’ve been looking so tired and unfocused,” Jongin continues, his own bowl of food barely more touched than Minseok’s bowl.
“I can’t move on, Jongin. It’s been months and I can’t get over him. We broke up over 4 months ago, I’ve moved into a new apartment, threw out my old sheets, and put away our photos. No matter what I do, I still find myself wandering over to the dairy section of the grocery store to buy Luhan’s favorite brand of milk,” Minseok confesses, breath wheezing out of him like a deflated balloon. All of these things have been bothering him and he’s just been bottling, bottling having no escape and only trying to funnel all these emotions into work. He is able to distract himself a little but it always comes back to him when the lights are all off in the apartment and he’s lying on the left side of his bed instead of the middle.
Jongin’s quiet, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. Minseok has been Minseok and Luhan for a long, long time and becoming just Minseok again will take longer than a few weeks.
Minseok sighs, this tired, resigned sigh. “I don’t know what to do, Jongin.”
The idea comes to him suddenly and all those ads he’s seen play before his youtube videos come to mind. “Hyung.”
Minseok glances up at Jongin, little frown creasing his brows.
“Have you seen those ads? What are they called? Erasers? The one about that company that can help you erase selective memories?”
The little crease between Minseok’s brows deepen. “Effacers?”
“Yeah. Effacers, that’s what they’re called. Do you think hyung and Luhan hyung can….” Jongin trails off, watching the way Minseok purses his lips, mulling over the idea. Minseok doesn’t reject the idea straight away but he doesn’t leap at the idea. Jongin knows that Minseok isn’t the type to take the easy way out of anything, but judging from how Minseok isn’t shaking his head, Luhan, or rather the times from Luhan, are bothering him a lot more than he’s let on.
The cogs start turning in Minseok’s mind.
Minseok’s hand tightens over his phone, finger hovering over the screen, a centimeter apart from the green button. It’ll be the first time that he is calling Luhan since they got their apartments settled and decided to take some time away from each other. Minseok hadn’t been bothered to delete Luhan’s contact because it’ll take a lot more than just deleting the number to make him forget the digits that he dials without a second thought.
He swallows and swipes from left to right, the screen going black. Minseok puts the phone to his ear, the dial tone ringing.
“Minseok?”
And just like that, the memories, the feelings come crashing back and his lungs freeze and his breath is stuck in his throat. It’s all so achingly familiar, the timbre of Luhan’s voice, the sleepy way he answers his phone, the soft Chinese accent that pulls the sounds of Minseok’s name into something special, and most of all, the easy way it just rolls off Luhan’s tongue.
“Yeah.” He whispers this, hardly a breath able to squeeze past his tightening throat.
Luhan’s quiet for a moment. They’re both hesitant, unfamiliar territory, that first phone call since their breakup. “Hi,” he begins, “did you call for something?”
I wanted to hear your voice is what Minseok used to answer in a teasing tone. “Yeah, um.” Minseok doesn’t know where to start. How does he even begin asking something so big from Luhan.
Luhan’s patient, staying quiet to let Minseok talk. Minseok can still hear his soft breathing across the line and that’s how he knows that Luhan is paying 100% attention to this phone call. Minseok hadn’t called until about 7, when he guessed that Luhan should be home.
“I can’t forget you.” Like that, he plunges himself into dangerous territory. “I don’t-I don’t want us to be back together or anything, our time’s already up, but I can’t stop remembering you. It’s like muscle memory, everything I do. I know that we’re already over but my brain doesn’t seem to accept it and it’s driving me crazy, it’s affecting even my work, Luhan.”
Luhan swallows heavily. “What do you want me to do.” It’s not even a question. It’s a statement, a way for Luhan to wait for Minseok’s real purpose of the call. His voice only slightly wavers.
Minseok closes his eyes. “I want to erase the memories of us.”
Luhan swears softly in Mandarin across the line and Minseok had heard this word in so many different ways and different situations. When Minseok’s sprawled across the couch arms open in invitation, when he stubs his toe on the doorframe, when he’s late to a meeting because Minseok kept tugging him back by his tie--
“How do we do that?” Luhan’s voice is weak and it makes Minseok want to say nevermind, to take back his words, but he’s already gone this far.
“Effacers. Have you heard of them? They’ve been advertising quite a bit and uh, basically it’s selective amnesia.”
“You want to erase us,” Luhan says after a long pause that makes Minseok’s chest ache.
“Yes,” said like an exhale.
There’s a shakey inhale from Luhan’s line and Minseok can just hear the exhaustion in his voice. Something’s been taking a toll on Luhan and Minseok doesn’t have to be a genius to tell that their split hasn’t been easy on Luhan either. It hasn’t been kind to either of them but it’s for the best, and they both know it.
“I’ll think about it.” Luhan used to be the one who’d ask for things from Minseok and Minseok had always been the one to give in to Luhan’s pleading with an easy smile.
“Thank you, Luhan.”
“Good night.”
Minseok returns the goodbye and the line dies, screen lighting up with the time duration of the call and Luhan’s contact, his stupid smile set as his profile picture.
Goodbyes don’t get easier with time, Minseok discovers.
Part I | Part II
Paring: Xiuhan, ninja!Baeksoo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 10454
Summary: Luhan is the first and last thing that Minseok wants to remember.
Notes:Huge shoutout to my understanding betas S and J. And of course the hugest shoutout to vainillalove for the great prompt of this entire mess ♥
"Tabula Rasa" means blank slate and was taken from the idea of John Locke's philosophy that minds begin as empty slates.
Written for theluminations
The end begins on a Wednesday.
But the beginning starts on a Monday, Monday evening to be exact.
Minseok blinks up at the cafe’s sign for the third time to make sure that he’s at the correct place. He’s 15 minutes early, but that’s characteristic of him. He never likes to be late for anything, if anything, he prefers to be early.
There’s no one there yet, not surprising since he did came a bit early, but the cafe’s already set up, little bowls of ground coffee spread out across the countertop, chairs set up in front each bowl. Even though he hasn’t step foot into the shop, he knows exactly which chair he’s going to go for.
Minseok’s not antisocial, he’s just prefers his own company-or at least that’s what he tells Jongin. Jongin had complained that Minseok only has like, 3 friends, excluding his family and he spent way too much time cooped up in either his office or his home. Minseok had tried to protest but Jongin put on that puppy dog look that had always made Minseok squirmed and felt like all his arguments were useless. Instead of wasting his time, Minseok had heaved a sigh and promised to sign up for a class to try to meet new people and Jongin’s tackling hug had made signing up for this barista class worth it.
Until now he has been standing in front of the cafe. He wonders if this is worthy of his time or if he could have just stayed home to work on that last sketch that he just couldn’t get right. At least the class had something that he was interested in. When he was in high school he had thought about opening up his own cafe but that dream faded when he fell in love with interior designing.
The bell above the door rings cheerily, alerting the employees that he’s here and when Minseok sits down on the the chair that he had chosen outside, an employee who’s got too big of a smile emerges from the back and greets him.
Minseok tries to smile back at the man, eyes dusting over the “Kim Jongdae” nametag to return the greeting.
“What brings you to this class?” Kim Jongdae asks, leaning over the counter and not looking like he’s about to leave any moment. Minseok sighs, resigning himself to the conversation.
Ok, maybe Jongin is right, he is a little rusty in easy conversation. He hasn’t really done small talk outside of his customers which mainly focused around the customer and their preferences since his college days, which are long over. “My friend said that I needed to go out and meet new people.” Honesty is easier than making up a long winded story.
Kim Jongdae’s easy laughter reminds him of when he was still in college-young and without a worry in the world outside of essay deadlines. “Really here for the content, aren’t you?” the barista jokes and Minseok cracks a smile.
“I do have an interest beyond my daily cup of coffee, really. I figured that if I had to do something, it might as well be something I’m interested in,” Minseok shrugs, “I’m Kim Minseok.”
“Kim Jongdae,” he exchanges, and Minseok doesn’t think that this class will be too bad. He can already imagine the look on Jongin’s face when he tells him that he managed to make somewhat of a new friend.
The time for the class to begin ticks down and the occasional bell rings increases in frequency as more student file in until there’s a total of 14 people sitting on the chairs and the noise level rises. There are new people, like Minseok, who don’t know anyone at all and are rather shy, and there’s a few pairs of friends who decided to take the class together and they’re noticeably chattier than the others.
7:30 arrives and they’re still missing one person, the seat to the left of Minseok empty.
“Looks like we’re missing a friend, but they can still join if they come,” Jongdae says out loud, clearly indicating the beginning of class and the noise level die down.
The bell doesn’t ring again until 7:53 when Luhan barges into the cafe and into Minseok’s life.
“Hello!” Jongdae greets and the class turns from their fragrant bowls of coffee beans to stare at the awfully pretty newcomer.
The latecomer flushes at the attention and the moment he steps into the light is when Minseok really notices how attractive he is. Soft tones of pink and a dark streak of red come to Minseok’s mind when he sees the man. Hes got a delicate nose and a defined jawline that end up into a pixie, feminine look. While his face is suggestively pretty, his broad shoulders and suggestion of muscle is very masculine.
“Hello,” the latecomer replies when he comes up to the table, placing his things down by the chair next to Minseok. He’s still a little pink in the ears and cheeks but it doesn’t take away from the prettiness.
“We were a little afraid that you weren’t going to come,” Jongdae says in a light manner that has the man ducking sheepishly.
“Sorry, didn’t notice the time.” Minseok frowns, something a little off in the man’s way of speaking triggering it. There’s something in there that makes Minseok blink.
“I’m sorry for being late,” the man says quietly. It’s definitely a male voice, accented and not quite falling naturally on all the words.
“It’s all good, we were just getting started anyway,” the instructor says and that was the end of it. Jongdae turns back to the class to continue on what he had been saying before he was interrupted.
The latecomer sits to the left of Minseok, shuffling his things underneath his stool. Minseok doesn't really pay him much attention beyond a glance, returning his attention back to the barista and his little bowl of grounds in front of him.
"Did I miss much?"
"I'm sorry?" Minseok says on instinct, mind still half listening to Jongdae. Was he addressing him?
Up close, the stranger's looks aren't quite as distracting. Beyond the overall delicate look, he has a strong jawline and lines underneath his eyes that help him look less flawless, more human. Minseok doesn't know why, but the little imperfections calm Minseok down. He purses his lips together, glancing unsurely at the bowl in front of him and at Jongdae. "Uh," he says lowly, "Did I, uh, miss a lot?"
"Oh." Minseok absently picks up the miniature teapot, his other hand cupping the bottom. It's warm and the sensation distracts Minseok enough it takes him a moment to remember the man's question. "No, we were just getting started. He was only introducing the differences between coffees from different places."
The stranger gives him a relieved smile, his hands darting out to pick up the teapot, trying to mimic Jongdae's smooth pouring. His hands are sure, different than Minseok's hesitant tipping in copying the ascent of the spout.
Jongdae's voice is a little on the higher side, but he speaks with an energy that contrasts the calm, careful way his hands move at steeping the coffee. As the hot water drips through the filter, the aroma of coffee lifts into the air and Minseok breathes in deeply, relishing in the warm tones. He's a good teacher, but Minseok is an unsure beginner so his hands tremble slightly. Jongdae's encouraging, coming around the bar to help each student through each step of the steep.
It's interesting how Jongdae manages to make the 2 hour class zip by and before Minseok realizes, it's the end of the class and they've covered the basics of steeping. The next lesson promises proper grinding and each student is allowed to take home their brewed coffee. Now that the lesson is over, Minseok is eager to go home, to start the project that he's been stuck on, warm colors and accents of bitter flooding his imagination.
He's the first one out of the door.
Minseok's flipping through a paint catalogue searching for the deep brown in his mind when the phone rings. He glances irritably, a habit when he's deep in work, but the irritation dissipates when he sees Jongin's self selected nickname on the caller id.
“Hello?”
“Hyung! I was wondering if you were alive,” Jongin teases, something he always does when he talks to Minseok.
“Nope, I’m just speaking to you from the afterlife,” he says without skipping a beat, eyes idly skimming over the catalogue.
“Followed the light, huh. Told you not to,” the younger snorts, “Anyway, how was the class?”
Minseok pauses, tilting the page this way and that trying to see how the light catches the paint. “What class?”
He can hear Jongin’s exasperation through the phone when he sighs. “The barista class! That coffee thing you wanted to learn about?”
He frowns at the paints and flips the page, trying to remember. “Ah, that one in Sinchon? Yeah, yeah it was good.”
“Met anyone new?”
Unbidden, the latecomer’s face pops up and Minseok blinks. “Uh, yeah. The barista was really nice.”
“Please don’t tell me you only spoke to the teacher.”
“Uh.”
“Hyung! You have to open your mouth and talk to other people, you know.”
“I know, I know, jeez, Jongin-ah. Between the two of us, who is older?”
“Mentally? Me,” Jongin cheekily replies and Minseok makes a playful clicking noise with his tongue, warning the younger, who just laughs.
“I gotta run, hyung, but our usual on Saturday?”
Minseok hums, affirming and the line dies, the interior designer placing down the phone to resume his hunt for that perfect shade of mahogany.
It’s the first of the next thousand times Luhan springs into his mind.
Luhan was charming, his little Chinese accent endearing. He uses his language barrier to break down Minseok’s barrier.
It’s just the beginning of spring, where winter is starting to hint on warmer weather. There are buds on the trees that line the streets of Sinchon and it’s warm, sun out, cool breeze. It’s a big day in Minseok’s mind because he is meeting Luhan at the coffee shop they met at. Jongdae and Minseok are fast friends by now, but it’s not his shift today.
It’s kind of funny how casual it is. They’re just sitting there, sipping their respective cups of coffee, having met often because Luhan had decided that he needed a Korean friend in order to improve his Korean. Luhan places his cup down after sipping and says, oh so casually, “Hey, Minseok?”
Minseok glances up from his phone screen, displaying the stats of the new players of his favorite team and he hums, expecting Luhan to ask something like do you think the games this year’s going to be as bad as the last? or maybe even do you want to grab some dinner after this?. How natural the Korean sounds, Minseok doesn’t pay attention to.
But instead Luhan asks, “Will you go out with me?”
Minseok nearly says, ‘Yeah, sure. Do you just want me to help hold your groceries?’ but his brain catches up and it sets his heart off in double time after pausing it. “What?” he says instead.
Luhan smiles, this time a little wobbly one that says he’s actually really nervous. “Will you date me?”
Minseok blinks rapidly, words stuck in his throat. Silence stretches on for what feels like an eternity, while memories of Luhan, memories of that odd way his heart would race when Luhan lay his head down in Minseok’s lap when he got sleepy watching the film, or the way he’d stumble into his kitchen on some late Sunday mornings and Luhan would be in there being the habitual early riser. The answer’s already there.
“Yes,” Minseok whispers and he can tell by the way Luhan’s brows furrow in worry that he didn’t really hear him.
He glances around the cafe, empty of customers and even the barista’s in the back. It gives him a boost of confidence. “Yes,” he says louder as the only warning, before he surges up and kisses Luhan blindly.
When his butt hits his chair and his eyes are open again, Luhan’s sitting stick straight, eyes wide, mouth open in amazement.
His face feels so, so hot and he’s dying on the inside, knowing that it’s completely out of his character but he can’t shrink back.
The silence stretches on for another eternity.
Luhan stands, chair screeching back and he takes 2 steps to come around the table. Luhan has the softest touch when he tips Minseok head back, asking with his eyes Can I?. Whatever Luhan was looking for, he finds the answer in Minseok’s unblinking wide eyes and Minseok melts at their second kiss.
It’s the first time he melts for Luhan but it’s not the last, with every kiss making Minseok’s knees weak and his cheeks flush. He’s so in love but it takes him so long to say those 3 words.
((It takes Minseok hours later when it finally sinks in that Luhan is his boyfriend, that Luhan’s Korean wasn’t as stiff as it normally was, jumbled grammar straightening out. It takes Minseok 6 months to realize that Luhan spoke fluent Korean and 6 years to figure out that Luhan isn’t the one for him.))
Minseok’s shy, easily flinching at the softest of touches. He’s self conscious and he tries to blame the consciousness more or less due to his artistic nature. But Minseok thinks of himself as the luckiest man in the world because Luhan doesn’t mind. Luhan, who’s the touchiest, most affectionate person he has ever met, doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind when he notices Minseok start to slip his hand out his his, he doesn’t stop the other, because he knows that when Minseok feels comfortable enough, he’ll bring his hand right back. He doesn’t mind being the one to press soft i love yous into Minseok’s nape when they’re alone together and instead of answering back, Minseok will just shiver and his fingers will tighten at Luhan’s sides. He doesn’t even mind the messes of breakfasts that Minseok tries to bring him on Sunday mornings as apologies for being too afraid to say the words back. He doesn’t even mind that it takes Minseok almost an entire year to whisper i love you, too back, he’s even pleasantly surprised, drawing back to look at his boyfriend’s quickly reddening face.
He doesn’t even mind when Minseok begins to drift away.
It’s the middle of winter and it’s a Wednesday evening. It’s deathly cold outside and the atmosphere between the two isn’t much better. At first glance, it’s like nothing wrong.
They’re draped across the couch, limbs tangled together, but it’s quiet, only the television going. It’s Wednesday and they’re both home after work, the usual how was work? how was your day? already been said and answered and the conversation just dies. It’s like a fading flame, their relationship, and it’s only been a few years and they’ve burned out. They know it but no one’s brave enough to snuff out the dying fire.
They used to jabber for afternoons and nights, never seeming like they needed anything else but the other’s company. It’s mocking them now, sitting together out of habit.
Minseok thinks that they’re pathetic, too afraid to step out of this routine they’ve made, too scared to say the words that’ll end them completely.
(--Luhan thinks so, too.)
It’s not like they don’t love each other anymore. Luhan still loves Minseok and Minseok still loves Luhan but it’s not the same love. It’s not the love that’s eternal or even passionate anymore, it’s the love that appreciates routine, appreciates static things. It’s not the love that the both of them had started out with.
It’s the familiarity that they both find comfort in. Luhan can finish the end of Minseok’s sentences, Minseok can walk into a restaurant and order food for the both of them, and they know each other like the backs of their hands.
Minseok wants to burn away that familiarity.
In reality, they should break up. Say the dreaded “I think we should go our separate ways”. It hovers, heavy and unsaid in every action. From the turned backs in the morning, to the 10 rare texts they exchange each month.
10pm rolls around and Minseok turns off the TV, saying that it’s time for them to sleep. Luhan agrees, not having anything to disagree on.
They slide into bed facing opposite directions.
Like every other night, Luhan will be the first to fall asleep and Minseok will soon follow him but tonight, it’s suffocating. The words are thick in his throat. Tonight is different.
Minseok swallows.
“Luhan?” Minseok whispers to the dark room, not sure if he’s more scared that Luhan does or doesn’t hear him.
His heart stops in his chest when Luhan hums back.
Now or never. Now or never nowornevernowornever.
“We should break up.”
He stops breathing and the silence is deafening. Luhan is holding his breath too.
Luhan’s voice only slightly wavers when he asks, “Is that what you really want?” Minseok is thankful that the room is dark, that he’s facing away from Luhan, that he can’t see the heartbreak on Luhan’s face that he can hear in his voice. His eyes sting.
Short answers. “Yes.” Minseok squeezes his eyes shut and the only difference is that he can feel heat slice down his face. Tears. He’s crying.
Luhan exhales and it’s so, so loud in the dark room. ((Once upon a time, Minseok would have gloried in Luhan’s exhale, would have teased him about how fast he’s breathing, how pretty his flush is, how easy it is to rile him up and Luhan would have reached up to grab at Minseok’s shoulders and shut him up by nipping hard at Minseok’s lower lip.))
“If that’s what you want.” Luhan takes it quietly, like the death of their relationship.
They don’t say anything else that night but it’s not like they have many words left between them, anyway.
Thursday morning comes like it does after every Wednesday night. Minseok’s the one up first, needing to get up 30 minutes earlier than Luhan to commute and today, when he flicks the alarm off and sits up, sliding out of bed, he pauses to look at Luhan’s sleeping form. He begins to wonder when they fell so out of love.
Then his phone beeps and he hustles along his morning routine.
When it’s Luhan’s turn to get up and prepare for work, there’s a bowl of cereal sitting rather pathetically on the counter. Luhan works absently at his tie, always ending up a little more tilted to the right than center ((Minseok used to teasingly scold him about it but he’d always be there to fix it, aligning it in the center and finishing up by tilting his chin up demanding a kiss for his services. Luhan had used to be more than glad to pay his fee)) and wanders up to the lone bowl. There’s a note on the napkin placed on to the right of the bowl and it says in Minseok’s neat handwriting ‘good morning.’
Luhan blinks at the note, feeling the dryness from crying last night. It’s so normal. It’s like nothing had changed. Like Minseok hadn’t said the words that tilted his axis.
He almost has to take a second to remember why his eyes are red.
Minseok’s note ends up in the trashcan, crumpled and damp.
What do we do now?
The question hangs heavy over the apartment. It’s been a few days since they’ve become strangers occupying the same home and the excuses to be out of the house are quickly running out. Luhan grabs a co-worker’s arm when the clock hits 6 and asks them if they’re up for a meal, because Luhan isn’t up to see Minseok come home at 6:30. Minseok signs up for a gym membership, going back to his college hobby, with the excuse that he thinks that just because he’s nearing 27, it shouldn’t mean that he should have the body of a desk worker.
The apartment stays dark until one or the other wanders home, cautiously opening the door to see if the other is home and the sigh of relief is always followed by a pang of guilt.
It’s only the middle of the month but in a rare moment where the two of them are at home and both awake, they agree to not renew the lease. No one wants to keep the apartment and neither are ones for lingering. Too many memories are stained into every inch of the apartment. They need to move on.
The days slowly drag by.
“Hyung? Are you alright?”
Minseok blinks, coming back into the restaurant. “Huh?”
Jongin worries his lower lip and repeats, “Are you alright? You’ve been so out of it, lately.”
Minseok’s guilty glance is sent over to the water glass and his chopsticks stab absently at his noodles.
“What’s the matter? Is it work? You’ve been looking so tired and unfocused,” Jongin continues, his own bowl of food barely more touched than Minseok’s bowl.
“I can’t move on, Jongin. It’s been months and I can’t get over him. We broke up over 4 months ago, I’ve moved into a new apartment, threw out my old sheets, and put away our photos. No matter what I do, I still find myself wandering over to the dairy section of the grocery store to buy Luhan’s favorite brand of milk,” Minseok confesses, breath wheezing out of him like a deflated balloon. All of these things have been bothering him and he’s just been bottling, bottling having no escape and only trying to funnel all these emotions into work. He is able to distract himself a little but it always comes back to him when the lights are all off in the apartment and he’s lying on the left side of his bed instead of the middle.
Jongin’s quiet, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. Minseok has been Minseok and Luhan for a long, long time and becoming just Minseok again will take longer than a few weeks.
Minseok sighs, this tired, resigned sigh. “I don’t know what to do, Jongin.”
The idea comes to him suddenly and all those ads he’s seen play before his youtube videos come to mind. “Hyung.”
Minseok glances up at Jongin, little frown creasing his brows.
“Have you seen those ads? What are they called? Erasers? The one about that company that can help you erase selective memories?”
The little crease between Minseok’s brows deepen. “Effacers?”
“Yeah. Effacers, that’s what they’re called. Do you think hyung and Luhan hyung can….” Jongin trails off, watching the way Minseok purses his lips, mulling over the idea. Minseok doesn’t reject the idea straight away but he doesn’t leap at the idea. Jongin knows that Minseok isn’t the type to take the easy way out of anything, but judging from how Minseok isn’t shaking his head, Luhan, or rather the times from Luhan, are bothering him a lot more than he’s let on.
The cogs start turning in Minseok’s mind.
Minseok’s hand tightens over his phone, finger hovering over the screen, a centimeter apart from the green button. It’ll be the first time that he is calling Luhan since they got their apartments settled and decided to take some time away from each other. Minseok hadn’t been bothered to delete Luhan’s contact because it’ll take a lot more than just deleting the number to make him forget the digits that he dials without a second thought.
He swallows and swipes from left to right, the screen going black. Minseok puts the phone to his ear, the dial tone ringing.
“Minseok?”
And just like that, the memories, the feelings come crashing back and his lungs freeze and his breath is stuck in his throat. It’s all so achingly familiar, the timbre of Luhan’s voice, the sleepy way he answers his phone, the soft Chinese accent that pulls the sounds of Minseok’s name into something special, and most of all, the easy way it just rolls off Luhan’s tongue.
“Yeah.” He whispers this, hardly a breath able to squeeze past his tightening throat.
Luhan’s quiet for a moment. They’re both hesitant, unfamiliar territory, that first phone call since their breakup. “Hi,” he begins, “did you call for something?”
I wanted to hear your voice is what Minseok used to answer in a teasing tone. “Yeah, um.” Minseok doesn’t know where to start. How does he even begin asking something so big from Luhan.
Luhan’s patient, staying quiet to let Minseok talk. Minseok can still hear his soft breathing across the line and that’s how he knows that Luhan is paying 100% attention to this phone call. Minseok hadn’t called until about 7, when he guessed that Luhan should be home.
“I can’t forget you.” Like that, he plunges himself into dangerous territory. “I don’t-I don’t want us to be back together or anything, our time’s already up, but I can’t stop remembering you. It’s like muscle memory, everything I do. I know that we’re already over but my brain doesn’t seem to accept it and it’s driving me crazy, it’s affecting even my work, Luhan.”
Luhan swallows heavily. “What do you want me to do.” It’s not even a question. It’s a statement, a way for Luhan to wait for Minseok’s real purpose of the call. His voice only slightly wavers.
Minseok closes his eyes. “I want to erase the memories of us.”
Luhan swears softly in Mandarin across the line and Minseok had heard this word in so many different ways and different situations. When Minseok’s sprawled across the couch arms open in invitation, when he stubs his toe on the doorframe, when he’s late to a meeting because Minseok kept tugging him back by his tie--
“How do we do that?” Luhan’s voice is weak and it makes Minseok want to say nevermind, to take back his words, but he’s already gone this far.
“Effacers. Have you heard of them? They’ve been advertising quite a bit and uh, basically it’s selective amnesia.”
“You want to erase us,” Luhan says after a long pause that makes Minseok’s chest ache.
“Yes,” said like an exhale.
There’s a shakey inhale from Luhan’s line and Minseok can just hear the exhaustion in his voice. Something’s been taking a toll on Luhan and Minseok doesn’t have to be a genius to tell that their split hasn’t been easy on Luhan either. It hasn’t been kind to either of them but it’s for the best, and they both know it.
“I’ll think about it.” Luhan used to be the one who’d ask for things from Minseok and Minseok had always been the one to give in to Luhan’s pleading with an easy smile.
“Thank you, Luhan.”
“Good night.”
Minseok returns the goodbye and the line dies, screen lighting up with the time duration of the call and Luhan’s contact, his stupid smile set as his profile picture.
Goodbyes don’t get easier with time, Minseok discovers.
Part I | Part II