{exo} a different kind of falling (i/ii)
title: a different kind of falling (i/ii)
pairing: Luhan/Xiumin
word count: 11150w
rating: nc-17
summary: They fall in love, and fall apart, and try to go back where they were before the fallout.
warning: mediocre attempt at a porn scene
a/n: wow, i haven't posted a fic in, what, 5...6 months?? this is amazing. also my first attempt at a partly nc-17 fic that is not horror/gore. holla
27
Minseok hears a loud ring-once, twice, and then a click. He almost gasps out loud in surprise, because he isn’t expecting the person on the other line to pick up the phone. It was Jongdae’s idea in the first place that he should try calling, but he didn’t think that it would actually work.
“Hello? Who is this?” asks a familiar voice, and Minseok feels something twist in his gut that he pauses momentarily, all words that he has been trying to remember by rerunning them over and over again in his mind merging into one big blur. It’s been so long since he heard that voice that he feels a physical ache inside his chest, as if part of an empty void is beginning to repair itself, sinews pulling out from where they’ve been tucked aside when they’ve been cut off and reconnecting themselves. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if doing so could form a ball of courage that he could physically hold on to so he wouldn’t get nervous and fuck up.
“Luhan? It’s me, Minseok.” He says, voice quivering. He doesn’t know whether it is excitement he feels because now he’s talking with Luhan after almost half a year, or anxiety, for fear of being rejected and ignored. “Can I-“he takes a gulp, forcing down the lump in his throat. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
There’s a pause on the other line and he couldn’t hear anything that he strains his ears, thinking that his phone’s gone haywire at the most crucial moment of his life. He almost starts thinking that Luhan has put down the phone or thrown it away upon hearing his name, but he sighs in relief when there’s a crackle on the other line and Luhan’s voice follows up.
“Yeah, hi. Sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong number.”
There’s a beep coming from the other line, and they’re disconnected once more.
It’s already 11PM, but there’s still time to count the scars left in his heart from losing Luhan, the only person he thought he would spend what bits of forever he could have
.
24
The first time they almost broke up, it’s over lunch in a coffee shop that they both frequent a lot, even during their college days.
Minseok was the type of person to listen more and talk less, but in the middle of the occasional hustle and bustle of a regular Sunday in Seoul, he was uncharacteristically too quiet. Amidst the chatter of the other customers and the stories Luhan tried telling him to fill in the gaps of silence that separated them, he seems uneasy; as if something was bothering him, a thought nagging him behind the back of his mind.
“There’s something bothering you, isn’t there? Come on, just tell me.” Luhan persuades Minseok, hand warm and comforting over his. But he still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say out loud what has been bothering him all this time, because he feels guilt gnawing at his core for even thinking about it.
At his unresponsiveness, Luhan squeezes his hand in reassurance and Minseok closes his eyes shut.
Because that’s all he could do to keep his tears from falling, even if in reality, he’s choking up.
He doesn’t want to betray Luhan’s trust, but there’s that feeling growing inside him every day, telling him that there wasn’t any other way. “Minseok, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Minseok purses his lips. He knows there isn’t any other way around this but to be straightforward about it, because they’ll only be trying to postpone the inevitable by denying themselves the truth of the entire situation. “I think we need some time from each other. Do other things.”
The grasp on Minseok’s hand loosens, hesitates, and he doesn’t say anything else in addition to what he just said, because he knows no word could ever make up for what he’s doing now.
The hand trembles, the type of coldness that has nothing to do with the weather beginning to seep out of it and into Minseok’s skin. He craves the usual warmth of it, but Luhan completely lets go before he could curl his other hand around it. But he has done this-was the cause of this in the first place, so he isn’t sure if he really is supposed to complain at all.
Luhan hears an underlying tone of let’s stay away from each other as much as possible behind Minseok’s words and he doesn’t know how to deal with this either.
“What? Why? Did I do something wrong?” he asks, wracking his brain to try to remember something he said the previous week, or something he might have done that triggered Minseok into thinking this way. He doesn’t come up with any, but he knows there should have been something that made Minseok feel this way. He tries to think back and retrace his steps. Because surely there could have been tell-tale signs that this was going to happen, right?
But he remembers none. Minseok’s responsiveness to his touches and the other’s smiles at his lame jokes definitely did not match to what he’s saying right now, and Luhan’s more confused than ever, because nothing is just making any sense.
“No, it’s just…” Minseok bites his bottom lip, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin that it’s starting to peel off. He finally looks Luhan in the eye, and all he could see was some form of agony.
Remorse.
Regret.
He feels a pang of guilt for putting it there, but he just doesn’t want to lie to Luhan anymore and make him think that everything is all rosy and happy, when to him, it’s clearly not that way anymore.
“Can’t you feel it, Luhan? It’s…gone.”
“No Minseok, nothing is gone. You still have me, and I still have you, right?” Luhan’s hand darts back on top of Minseok’s and now it’s warm to touch, as if it had been set to the right temperature, just enough to make Minseok feel nothing less than comfort.
Minseok doesn’t answer, and there’s a hollow ringing in Luhan’s ears from a question left hanging in the air, the silence that’s stretching between them bothering him. “Right?” he repeats, more to convince himself than to confirm it with Minseok. Nothing’s wrong between the two of them, right? It’s just a misunderstanding.
Right?
“I’m sorry…it’s just that-I can’t… feel you anymore. It’s like we’re both here, but we’re actually someplace else that what we had between us back then just… disappeared.”
Even in Minseok’s ears, his own words sound so atrocious and he wants to take it back, tell Luhan that he had been wrong. But he couldn’t. Because even though it felt wrong, it was the truth. Or at least, it felt like it was the truth.
“But what about yesterday? What about last week? What about the other months, years, back then? When… when we had sex and you said that it would only feel right if it’s the two of us, when you told me you loved me and that no matter how many other possibilities there are, you’d still choose me over anyone else. What about those? Have you forgotten?”
“I don’t. I will never forget those.” Minseok grits his teeth. “And that’s what’s making this harder. I can’t live on being like this. Whenever I’m with you, I can feel as if I can have everything I want, that I already do have everything I could ever want. But it’s only barely there, Luhan. It’s just like how I still love you, but it’s not just enough anymore.”
“Is this because you want a new job?” Luhan inquires. “Because if it’s that, we can fix that. There’s nothing too difficult for someone like you, Kim Minseok.” The hope in his voice hurts Minseok much more than any rejection at his previous job applications.
Minseok lets out a hollow laughter, Luhan’s faith in him seeming misplaced in their current situation “I’m not as great as you think I am, Luhan.” It’s absurd, how Luhan still manages to encourage him despite the fact that he’s asking for a break up.
“It’s that, isn’t it?”
Minseok is silent for a moment, contemplative. “The truth is, I’m not really sure, Luhan. Never have I once doubted that I loved you, but there’s just this feeling-“he sighs. “I can’t explain it, really. But at the end of the day, I just want things to be better. I just want to be better.”
“But Minseok, you’re already the best.” Luhan says with an instinctive pout. Minseok shakes his head, a sad smile splaying on his face.
“No. You are, but not me. It couldn’t be me, because I deserve nothing.” This time, it’s him who initiates contact; it’s him who holds Luhan’s hand even though it had usually been Luhan to make the first move between the two of them. Luhan notices this, of course, and he briefly wonders whether this is how Minseok will break it off with him- by doing him one last favor.
“Thank you, thank you for always believing in me. You’re still so nice even though I’m telling you I’m leaving you.” Minseok strains his weight on both of his shoes, muscles coiling together, ready to spring, but not entirely. “But I really need this, Luhan.”
Minseok’s words are gentle, but Luhan could only feel the sting behind it. “No, you can’t do this.” Luhan knows he’s being selfish, but couldn’t Minseok just do this some other way? “After all we’ve been through?” His voice didn’t raise a few octaves higher as he had thought it would, given the situation. But in reality, he feels betrayed. He just wishes that Minseok would think this through.
But Minseok already had thought this through (or so it seems), yet he still doesn’t know which was the better way to deal with this. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe what we have isn’t lost. Maybe there’s just something wrong with me.” Minseok mumbles, hanging his head in shame. “Maybe it’s me who’s lost. But I’ll come back to you, I promise.”
He wants to scream. He wants to pull at his hair and run amok, and punch Minseok in the face. But he can’t. He won’t. So instead, he answers in a small voice, as if he were a child afraid of being left alone in the dark by his mother.
“For how long, Minseok?”
“I don’t know, Luhan.” He confesses, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
They barely manage to get into the room, feet shuffling awkwardly by the doorstep, when Minseok starts peppering Luhan with kisses as if he couldn’t wait for a second longer. Luhan just laughs, not having had seen this much enthusiasm from Minseok in a while, the other’s eagerness matching his own. After months of not seeing each other, their physical interactions never seem to be enough to bridge the month-long gap. But it’s okay, because they have all the time in the world.
Right?
They stumble in the dimness of the light, fumbling to close the door immediately when they get their hands back on each other again, and the air smelled like searing passion and lust. Minseok kisses Luhan with fervor as if there wouldn’t be any tomorrows to seal their relationship again, and that this would be the last time they’re going to be with each other at all. Luhan responds with a growl emanating from the back of his throat and pushes Minseok against the wall, locking him in position with both hands gripping firmly at his waist. He is aware of how perfectly their mouths fit together, their paces matching altogether. He runs his tongue against the other’s lips before kissing him with much gusto, enough to leave his lips swollen.
They’re panting hard, breathless under the dim lighting of their shared apartment and Luhan slips his hands underneath the fabric of Minseok’s shirt, fingers exploring the planes of Minseok’s back as if it was newfound territory even if he has it memorized like the back of his hand. Minseok relents to his touch, and Luhan is so turned on by how Minseok is pliant in his arms that he grinds his hips forward, the heat that’s pooling in his belly getting more and more unmanageable.
Minseok grinds back, unable to hide the tent forming in his pants or the arousal from his moans either. Luhan had always seen Minseok as the epitome of perfection. But in moments like this, when he’s calling out for Luhan and telling him to hurry the fuck up, pulling away to peel his shirt off of him when Luhan only responds with a guttural sound and then kisses him again, rubbing his own hardness against Minseok’s, and then dipping his head on the hollow of Luhan’s collarbones, licking, sucking, leaving marks that would mark his territory, Luhan thinks he might believe that Minseok is not just an angel, but a god that has been graced with immaculateness far beyond what is possible.
Luhan tugs at him by the wrist, and before Minseok could ask what he wants, he’s being carried off on his feet and dumped on the bed, the mattress dipping as Luhan crawls over to Minseok, unable to hold it in anymore. Minseok almost laughs, because this Luhan is far from the sweet, doe-eyed boy he’s met back in college who was so confident during their first time having sex that he almost had Minseok convinced that yes, he’s done this before, if only he knew how to stick his dick in. Minseok had just laughed, asking him if he’s okay with them switching positions instead, and Luhan just ducked his head and nodded, embarrassed, thinking his first time would be perfect if only he watched enough porn videos and didn’t say a thing about his inexperience. But there were no complaints after that, because Luhan has only kept craving for Minseok more and more, like a drug that he needed supplied in his bloodstream just so he could keep on living.
“Oh, how manly.” Minseok says, voice dangerously low, and Luhan curses out loud, because Minseok is the only one who could unravel him like this. It’s not long before they’re both completely naked, skipping all the prepping (“Really Minseok, this isn’t like the first time. I know where to stick my dick in now, quit playing.”), and then trying to angle their hips in the right position so they could get better leverage.
They don’t fumble like their first time, or try to hurry things up like when they’re supposed to be doing something else instead. They don’t take it painfully slow either, as is when Minseok’s in the mood for teasing, just to see Luhan get all annoyed and flustered. They set on a rhythm just enough to satisfy their needs; their wants, yet more than enough to elicit moans out of each other’s lips, punctuating with a searing kiss.
It seems to be only a moment ago when Minseok suddenly showed up in his office, dressed in a beanie and a brown jacket that clashed with the white Hello Kitty shirt Luhan remembers giving him on the day of their first anniversary against lack of better judgment, a plastic with take-outs from the nearest Chinese restaurant in his hand.
He had given Luhan an apologetic look, mouth curved in a crooked smile as if he’s preparing to say something but he’s still contemplating on how to properly say it out loud, probably something along the lines of “I told you I’d come back for you, didn’t I?” because Minseok is such a typical dork that way. But Luhan kissed him right away, greetings dying out at the tip of his tongue.
Minseok had responded by smiling in the middle of their kiss, saying “Well hello to you too,” with mirth in his eyes when they break the kiss for air. It had been easy as that, no fuss, no parties. But Luhan has never been thankful upon seeing Minseok again.
Now they’re lying down together, Luhan’s arms around Minseok’s middle and Minseok’s hands on Luhan’s back even when they’re still sticky and full of sweat, and it’s supposed to be gross, because they’ve only just wiped the come off their bodies and it’s too hot to even cuddle, but Minseok thinks they look perfect this way.
Luhan is mumbling something that Minseok couldn’t quite hear, or he’s probably just mouthing against Minseok’s collarbones as he nuzzles his head deeper, nose rubbing against the hickeys that he’s left there. Minseok hums, content at this little piece that they have of forever, when a thought occurs to him, not wanting to delay things any longer.
“Say… Would you mind? Making this real, I mean.”
Luhan squirms in his position to look back at Minseok, sweaty bangs covering most of his eyes. “Mind what?”
He isn’t sure that he understands what Minseok is talking about, so he makes his assumption that the other is talking about their relationship. “And isn’t this real? You’re here, I’m here, we’re together, and we’ve done this a lot of times. What could be more real than that?”
Minseok hesitates, as if he’s thinking whether or not he should continue or not. “I mean, make it official.” He clarifies anyway.
Luhan makes a noise of confusion that seems to be crossing a tired grunt. “Well aren’t we an official couple? God, practically everybody in this town knows about the two of us even before we became an item.”
“Yes, but there’s a way to make it even more official than that, right?” Minseok sounds hopeful, and Luhan isn’t sure if he could turn Minseok down if it comes to the point that wouldn’t be favorable to him.
Luhan’s arms tighten around Minseok, as if he’s trying to shield his heart for whatever Minseok will say. He knows he’s not supposed to be nervous, because it’s not like Minseok’s implying that he wants them to breakup like the last time they talked, but he couldn’t help but feel an internal turmoil, panic rising to his chest, his heart beating a little too out of rhythm. “Say it straight to the point, Kim Minseok, I don’t have time for your mind games.”
“What I’m trying to say is,” Minseok sighs, his eyelids fluttering close as if telling Luhan “God, can you just please stop being ignorant for a moment?” He opens his eyes and looks down to find Luhan looking up at him expectantly, as if the other man is handing over his own heart to him, telling him to take care of it. Minseok tries not to disappoint, because he only wants Luhan to be pleased. “Will you marry me?”
And it’s not the most romantic setting-not the most conventional one either, to be quite accurate, sweat slicking their bodies and their breathing only starting to get back to normal from the high-but something pricks at Luhan’s heart that he almost cries out loud in joy, because really, he could never have asked for more.
“You should’ve done better, you know.” He still says out loud, enjoying how Minseok grumbles about him being too demanding and rolls his eyes. “Set up a rooftop dinner, put in some candles around, and then handed me flowers before eating. And then we could’ve been talking in the middle of dinner about how we first met, or recall how bad the DJ was during our prom but we still happened to enjoy it, and then you just suddenly drop down to one knee, take out a velvety box and open it to reveal a ring, and then just pop the question.”
“Well geez, then you should’ve been the one to propose.” Minseok heaves a sigh, giving up, because he knows that he should’ve made it special-should’ve just waited a little while longer instead of this moment, so everything would be set and Luhan couldn’t reject him at all.
Luhan touches his cheek lightly, patting it. “Nah, I don’t think I can pull it off as sweetly as you.”
Minseok doesn’t say anything for a moment, but Luhan could tell that he was blushing. Maybe because he was embarrassed for the cheesy things that Luhan kept saying, but maybe it was also because he’s really just fond of that thought, that Luhan still thinks of him that way, but would hate to admit it. “Well I was supposed to ask you during dinner since I took the liberty of buying us take-outs, but the food has probably gone cold. And I just couldn’t wait to ask you. I’m sorry it isn’t as romantic as you wanted it to be.” He confesses, and Luhan almost laughs and pinches his cheeks because he’s just so endearing.
“No Minseok,” Luhan shakes his head with a smile, and hugs Minseok tighter despite the heat. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. And frankly, I don’t think I could ever say no.”
“Thank you,” Minseok whispers into his ear, hugging him back.
Nothing might have gone according to Minseok’s plan, and some things might have fallen out of place and not work out, but Luhan doesn’t care. Because to him, this moment right here is perfect.
“What have you been doing while you were away?” was the first thing Luhan says to break the silence of the room over breakfast the next day. They’ve been skittering around the topic, but Minseok knows that it’s Luhan’s right to know what he has been up to these past few months. He owes Luhan that much, after all. “Have you been…meeting other people?”
Minseok reaches out and drags his arm across Luhan’s back before placing it on his shoulder. Luhan leans in to the touch, resting his head against Minseok’s shoulder and sighing comfortably. And it feels just right, because probably, it was just meant to be there in the first place.
“You know SOPA? That school for idols?’
“Don’t tell me you auditioned to be an idol and then the company told you to go to school there.” Luhan jokes, but it is kind of possible.
“No,” Minseok scoffs. “But I did manage to get a job there. It’s hard not to meet new people once you work in a school. But the thing is, it made me realize more how much I needed you. Every time a student would come to me and ask me about the books published during the Joseon Dynasty, I would remember you sleeping in the library instead of studying for our exam in Korean Literature. Every time my co-workers ask me to have at least a glass of soju with them on a Friday night, I remember when you got drunk and kept shaking that pillow because you thought it was me. Every time I would sit down to write on my lesson plan, I would see a bunched up paper crane that’s been kept pressed in-between the pages, and I would always remember the time you gave it to me and asked if I believed in destiny, because you did, and that maybe we were meant to be.”
“My point is, even when I did enjoy the company of those people, none of them were you. And I guess it would never work out with someone else but you.” Minseok finishes, carding a hand through Luhan’s hair.
Luhan nuzzles his head in Minseok’s neck, puffs of his breath sending shivers down the latter’s spine. “God Minseok, I was only asking if you went out with someone while you were away. I didn’t know you could get this cheesy.”
“I would stop, but you probably want this anyway.” A laugh bubbles up in Minseok’s throat. “You know I’m an easy person to talk to.”
It was a nice suggestion; a cheesy Minseok to compensate for all the grossly cheesy lines Luhan had used back in the days, but Luhan would much rather have the usual Minseok.
Luhan kisses him even though none of them has finished eating breakfast yet.
23
“Minseok, what if we've met differently? Would you still have loved me then?” The question just suddenly comes out of Luhan’s mouth that Minseok almost chokes at his own spit.
They’re sitting side-by-side in the library, reviewing for upcoming their final exam in Korean Literature (which can be alternatively known as “that one subject they’re taking together this year”, as Jongdae has always referred to it), with Minseok flipping through the last few pages of the book because he’s actually reading the text and not absentmindedly staring at the words in a haze just like Luhan is doing so the question takes him aback quite a few steps.
Minseok slides in a slip of a blank sheet of paper in-between the pages of the book to serve as a bookmark before closing it, because he knows Luhan will probably take up most of his attention anyway. “Why’d you ask?” He says, answering Luhan’s question with another question.
Luhan buries his left cheek on top of the book he’s been supposedly reading (supposedly, because he’s only ever flipped through the book and checked how many pages he’s supposed to read before giving up and just staring at the same page for 10 minutes straight without even absorbing anything at all) and looks at Minseok through his eyelashes. “Nothing, I was just thinking.”
“You’re thinking too much.” Minseok reaches out and runs a hand through his hair, the gesture sending chills down Luhan’s spine. The black roots of his hair looks contrastingly dark as compared to the lightness of the blonde he had his hair dyed in, but despite the chemicals, his hair is still soft. He’s probably going to re-dye his hair anyway in a month or so (back to shades of brunette, probably, because he’s never to settle on a single hair color for a very long time), but it would still probably be as fluffy as Minseok remembers it to be.
“But I just wanted to know what you thought. Come on, tell me.”
“Well, let’s think of it this way,” Minseok shifts in his seat, so he’s facing Luhan better. “There’s a varying realm of possibilities out there: shifting, waiting, changing. But we have this instead of something else, and I have you instead of someone else. And even if there are a thousand and one other alternatives out there, I still think I’d like this realm better. And if this isn’t what you call fate, I don’t know what is.”
Luhan chuckles at the seriousness in his tone, as if he was giving a seminar in the lecture hall instead of just talking with his boyfriend. “And you say too much.”
“Well, as you said before: We’re perfect for each other, aren’t we?”
25
The second time they almost break up, Luhan is poring through an arrangement of suits that he’s supposed to go through to pick one for their wedding.
“It’s just the pre-wedding jitters,” Jongdae had said when Minseok came in, telling Luhan that he isn’t sure about this, after all. But Minseok had looked at them both with such a sullen expression on his face that Jongdae had decided to just step out of it, declaring that it was none of his business even though he was the best man and it was probably part of his business.
“I’m serious, Luhan. I’m nervous, yes, but I don’t think we’re still both ready for this.” Minseok fidgets from where he’s standing, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. “Can we… Call the wedding off?”
“...or maybe just postpone it for a bit?” he adds in a haste when he sees Luhan’s crestfallen expression. It’s written all over his face how much he’s been looking forward to the wedding, and Minseok would be lying if he said that he wasn’t too, but his mind is just full of indecisions and insecurities and-he’s not even sure where he’s supposed to begin.
“But you were the one who proposed!” Luhan almost screams in frustration. Why couldn’t have Minseok told him earlier? Why couldn’t have Minseok grabbed him by the wrist, looked him right in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it,” right from the very beginning? Why had Minseok even popped the question in the first place?
“I know, and it was stupid of me. I mean, it was stupid of me to rush things,” he adds in explanation when a look of pain flashes through Luhan’s eyes as if he’s been physically slapped by Minseok. “It’s not like I regret being with you, Luhan; I don’t. You are the best thing that has ever happened in my life, and I’m really sorry that this had to happen. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He’s stumbling over his apologies, tears starting to fall from his eyes. And Luhan knows that it’s a really crappy way to apologize, crying in the middle of saying sorry, but Minseok means it, means every word coming out of his mouth; takes every apology out of his heart.
And how could Luhan even say “No, I can’t accept your apology,” when Minseok means so much more to him than the act of becoming one permanently? How can he turn his back on Minseok, when he’s all that Luhan wants; when he’s all that Luhan could ever have hoped for? Minseok meant much more to him than any marriage or wedding would ever mean to someone else.
So he hugs Minseok, tears staining his dress shirt. His embrace is warm, welcoming, forgiving, that Minseok is overwhelmed and he cries harder, with Luhan rubbing soothing circles on his back, whispering that “It’s okay, I’m not mad. It’s okay Minseok, don’t cry anymore.” And he smells so much like home that Minseok doesn’t even know why he did that; what took over him to deny them of this piece of reality that could string them together permanently, bind them together for as long as they live, even when he knows that he wouldn’t mind-even when he knows that if there was such a thing as an eternity, he’d gladly spend it with Luhan.
Luhan squeezes Minseok arm in reassurance that they would be fine, that everything would be alright, but even he knows that their relationship wouldn’t be the same as it had used to be.
26
The fourth time it happens, however, they actually do break up.
Luhan is sitting on a chair that the owner had boasted back then to be 100% made out of mahogany inside a fancy restaurant that has quite some great food on their menu but isn’t that famous yet in their neighborhood, and he tries not to settle on the fact that this is the fifth time that he’s checked his watch for the past thirty minutes.
Surely, Minseok couldn’t have forgotten that it’s their anniversary, right?
He’s probably just busy with his work. Luhan waves off, trying not to delve into the nitty-gritty facts anymore.
“Sir, are you still not ready to order?” a waiter comes up to him, a laminated copy of the standard menu in his hands.
“I’m still waiting for someone.” Luhan smiles dryly. “But it won’t be long before he comes.” I guess, he almost wants to say, but he avoids thinking of how true it could be. The waiter leaves with a respectful bow, but not before Luhan saw the look in his eyes bordering around pity as if to say that Luhan looked pitiful sitting there, waiting for someone that would never probably come.
Usually Luhan would say that that’s impossible, because Minseok always, always keeps his promises. He came back even after he left, right? And he never left after that, because he promised Luhan. And he’s never failed to show how apologetic he was after they cancelled the wedding, trying his best to make it up to Luhan in every way possible.
But right now, from the ten messages with varying degrees of asking Minseok where he could probably be and if he could still make it, followed up by fourteen missed calls that Luhan has been trying to put up with for the past forty minutes
He’s forgotten you, the thought nags at the back of his mind.
He hasn’t. He’s really just busy. He tells himself.
Busy enough to forget your fifth anniversary? How sad, the voice sneers, and Luhan fists his hands over his thighs, because that’s all he could do to fend off the frustration that’s building up inside of him.
Luhan hopes, and hopes, and hopes, because he knows that Minseok would always come back for him. So he waits, and waits, and waits… until the rain starts to pour, and his vision is blurred by the heavy pelts of water sliding off of the glass door, where he’s been staring at for the past hour.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Minseok wouldn’t come-would never come, and he’d just been a fool to wait for someone who would never get around.
So he stands up, his bones creaking from the past hour he’s spent sitting alone, missing the part of their story when they were just falling for each other; when nothing else mattered but the two of them being together, and no one else’s opinion could affect what they shared.
But his heart, though heavy with disappointment, believes otherwise.
“I-I understand,” Minseok says, even though he’s struggling to process the idea of Luhan leaving him. The ring that Luhan gave him back feels cold against the skin of his palm, and he closes his fingers over it, feeling the cold bite of the metal on his skin. “I should’ve called you earlier to tell you that I’ve been caught up in a meeting, but I didn’t, because it slipped my mind. And I know it doesn’t change anything, but still, I’m really sorry. Not just for this, but for everything.”
“I’m sorry for being an asshole. I’m sorry for leaving you back then just because I was confused. I’m sorry for asking you to call off the wedding because I felt like I wasn’t ready yet, even though I knew it in my bones that you were the one. I’m sorry for letting every opportunity slip past me, even when all you’ve been doing is to try to be understanding. I’m sorry for not being able to keep all of my promises. I’m sorry I turned out to be the one who’s hurting you instead, when I promised you that I would take care of you and protect you.”
The words that Luhan wants to say back taste bitter in his tongue and he wants to spit them out, to shout them back at Minseok, but he holds them back and chokes on them instead. "Some things are just made to end," he says instead, looking away.
He doesn't want to meet Minseok's eyes. He doesn't want to see the look of betrayal from his own expression being reflected in those same eyes that used to look at him so lovingly, especially when he knows that they could have done something to avoid this.
“..and probably, our ending was just meant to be this way."
Minseok smiles at him sadly, cocking his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "I really miss the old us. But I guess we can’t get back to that, can we?"
Luhan finds it hard to swallow the lump in his throat. It’s tempting, the thought of starting over again. Scrapping the ugly and torn pages of their story and adding in a new one, still blank, a lot of free space to be written on. “Not-not after this. Things are different now, Minseok.”
Minseok nods. “I understand.” He does, because he knows this was his fault. Luhan had been nothing but kind to him, but he just had to be covered up in all of his confusion. But in his heart, he still hopes.
Why can’t we just let these memories remain as memories? Why can’t we just leave them there and forget them all? Why can’t they all just disappear?
Why can’t we just start over again?
It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s over before they could think about it much.
Luhan’s gone out the door, his belongings in hand before Minseok gets to string up another set of apologies. It isn’t long before Minseok has packed up too, putting the apartment up for sale.
Nobody wants to remember what happened there, anyway.
pt.2|>>
pairing: Luhan/Xiumin
word count: 11150w
rating: nc-17
summary: They fall in love, and fall apart, and try to go back where they were before the fallout.
warning: mediocre attempt at a porn scene
a/n: wow, i haven't posted a fic in, what, 5...6 months?? this is amazing. also my first attempt at a partly nc-17 fic that is not horror/gore. holla
27
Minseok hears a loud ring-once, twice, and then a click. He almost gasps out loud in surprise, because he isn’t expecting the person on the other line to pick up the phone. It was Jongdae’s idea in the first place that he should try calling, but he didn’t think that it would actually work.
“Hello? Who is this?” asks a familiar voice, and Minseok feels something twist in his gut that he pauses momentarily, all words that he has been trying to remember by rerunning them over and over again in his mind merging into one big blur. It’s been so long since he heard that voice that he feels a physical ache inside his chest, as if part of an empty void is beginning to repair itself, sinews pulling out from where they’ve been tucked aside when they’ve been cut off and reconnecting themselves. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if doing so could form a ball of courage that he could physically hold on to so he wouldn’t get nervous and fuck up.
“Luhan? It’s me, Minseok.” He says, voice quivering. He doesn’t know whether it is excitement he feels because now he’s talking with Luhan after almost half a year, or anxiety, for fear of being rejected and ignored. “Can I-“he takes a gulp, forcing down the lump in his throat. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
There’s a pause on the other line and he couldn’t hear anything that he strains his ears, thinking that his phone’s gone haywire at the most crucial moment of his life. He almost starts thinking that Luhan has put down the phone or thrown it away upon hearing his name, but he sighs in relief when there’s a crackle on the other line and Luhan’s voice follows up.
“Yeah, hi. Sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong number.”
There’s a beep coming from the other line, and they’re disconnected once more.
It’s already 11PM, but there’s still time to count the scars left in his heart from losing Luhan, the only person he thought he would spend what bits of forever he could have
.
24
The first time they almost broke up, it’s over lunch in a coffee shop that they both frequent a lot, even during their college days.
Minseok was the type of person to listen more and talk less, but in the middle of the occasional hustle and bustle of a regular Sunday in Seoul, he was uncharacteristically too quiet. Amidst the chatter of the other customers and the stories Luhan tried telling him to fill in the gaps of silence that separated them, he seems uneasy; as if something was bothering him, a thought nagging him behind the back of his mind.
“There’s something bothering you, isn’t there? Come on, just tell me.” Luhan persuades Minseok, hand warm and comforting over his. But he still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say out loud what has been bothering him all this time, because he feels guilt gnawing at his core for even thinking about it.
At his unresponsiveness, Luhan squeezes his hand in reassurance and Minseok closes his eyes shut.
Because that’s all he could do to keep his tears from falling, even if in reality, he’s choking up.
He doesn’t want to betray Luhan’s trust, but there’s that feeling growing inside him every day, telling him that there wasn’t any other way. “Minseok, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Minseok purses his lips. He knows there isn’t any other way around this but to be straightforward about it, because they’ll only be trying to postpone the inevitable by denying themselves the truth of the entire situation. “I think we need some time from each other. Do other things.”
The grasp on Minseok’s hand loosens, hesitates, and he doesn’t say anything else in addition to what he just said, because he knows no word could ever make up for what he’s doing now.
The hand trembles, the type of coldness that has nothing to do with the weather beginning to seep out of it and into Minseok’s skin. He craves the usual warmth of it, but Luhan completely lets go before he could curl his other hand around it. But he has done this-was the cause of this in the first place, so he isn’t sure if he really is supposed to complain at all.
Luhan hears an underlying tone of let’s stay away from each other as much as possible behind Minseok’s words and he doesn’t know how to deal with this either.
“What? Why? Did I do something wrong?” he asks, wracking his brain to try to remember something he said the previous week, or something he might have done that triggered Minseok into thinking this way. He doesn’t come up with any, but he knows there should have been something that made Minseok feel this way. He tries to think back and retrace his steps. Because surely there could have been tell-tale signs that this was going to happen, right?
But he remembers none. Minseok’s responsiveness to his touches and the other’s smiles at his lame jokes definitely did not match to what he’s saying right now, and Luhan’s more confused than ever, because nothing is just making any sense.
“No, it’s just…” Minseok bites his bottom lip, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin that it’s starting to peel off. He finally looks Luhan in the eye, and all he could see was some form of agony.
Remorse.
Regret.
He feels a pang of guilt for putting it there, but he just doesn’t want to lie to Luhan anymore and make him think that everything is all rosy and happy, when to him, it’s clearly not that way anymore.
“Can’t you feel it, Luhan? It’s…gone.”
“No Minseok, nothing is gone. You still have me, and I still have you, right?” Luhan’s hand darts back on top of Minseok’s and now it’s warm to touch, as if it had been set to the right temperature, just enough to make Minseok feel nothing less than comfort.
Minseok doesn’t answer, and there’s a hollow ringing in Luhan’s ears from a question left hanging in the air, the silence that’s stretching between them bothering him. “Right?” he repeats, more to convince himself than to confirm it with Minseok. Nothing’s wrong between the two of them, right? It’s just a misunderstanding.
Right?
“I’m sorry…it’s just that-I can’t… feel you anymore. It’s like we’re both here, but we’re actually someplace else that what we had between us back then just… disappeared.”
Even in Minseok’s ears, his own words sound so atrocious and he wants to take it back, tell Luhan that he had been wrong. But he couldn’t. Because even though it felt wrong, it was the truth. Or at least, it felt like it was the truth.
“But what about yesterday? What about last week? What about the other months, years, back then? When… when we had sex and you said that it would only feel right if it’s the two of us, when you told me you loved me and that no matter how many other possibilities there are, you’d still choose me over anyone else. What about those? Have you forgotten?”
“I don’t. I will never forget those.” Minseok grits his teeth. “And that’s what’s making this harder. I can’t live on being like this. Whenever I’m with you, I can feel as if I can have everything I want, that I already do have everything I could ever want. But it’s only barely there, Luhan. It’s just like how I still love you, but it’s not just enough anymore.”
“Is this because you want a new job?” Luhan inquires. “Because if it’s that, we can fix that. There’s nothing too difficult for someone like you, Kim Minseok.” The hope in his voice hurts Minseok much more than any rejection at his previous job applications.
Minseok lets out a hollow laughter, Luhan’s faith in him seeming misplaced in their current situation “I’m not as great as you think I am, Luhan.” It’s absurd, how Luhan still manages to encourage him despite the fact that he’s asking for a break up.
“It’s that, isn’t it?”
Minseok is silent for a moment, contemplative. “The truth is, I’m not really sure, Luhan. Never have I once doubted that I loved you, but there’s just this feeling-“he sighs. “I can’t explain it, really. But at the end of the day, I just want things to be better. I just want to be better.”
“But Minseok, you’re already the best.” Luhan says with an instinctive pout. Minseok shakes his head, a sad smile splaying on his face.
“No. You are, but not me. It couldn’t be me, because I deserve nothing.” This time, it’s him who initiates contact; it’s him who holds Luhan’s hand even though it had usually been Luhan to make the first move between the two of them. Luhan notices this, of course, and he briefly wonders whether this is how Minseok will break it off with him- by doing him one last favor.
“Thank you, thank you for always believing in me. You’re still so nice even though I’m telling you I’m leaving you.” Minseok strains his weight on both of his shoes, muscles coiling together, ready to spring, but not entirely. “But I really need this, Luhan.”
Minseok’s words are gentle, but Luhan could only feel the sting behind it. “No, you can’t do this.” Luhan knows he’s being selfish, but couldn’t Minseok just do this some other way? “After all we’ve been through?” His voice didn’t raise a few octaves higher as he had thought it would, given the situation. But in reality, he feels betrayed. He just wishes that Minseok would think this through.
But Minseok already had thought this through (or so it seems), yet he still doesn’t know which was the better way to deal with this. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe what we have isn’t lost. Maybe there’s just something wrong with me.” Minseok mumbles, hanging his head in shame. “Maybe it’s me who’s lost. But I’ll come back to you, I promise.”
He wants to scream. He wants to pull at his hair and run amok, and punch Minseok in the face. But he can’t. He won’t. So instead, he answers in a small voice, as if he were a child afraid of being left alone in the dark by his mother.
“For how long, Minseok?”
“I don’t know, Luhan.” He confesses, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
They barely manage to get into the room, feet shuffling awkwardly by the doorstep, when Minseok starts peppering Luhan with kisses as if he couldn’t wait for a second longer. Luhan just laughs, not having had seen this much enthusiasm from Minseok in a while, the other’s eagerness matching his own. After months of not seeing each other, their physical interactions never seem to be enough to bridge the month-long gap. But it’s okay, because they have all the time in the world.
Right?
They stumble in the dimness of the light, fumbling to close the door immediately when they get their hands back on each other again, and the air smelled like searing passion and lust. Minseok kisses Luhan with fervor as if there wouldn’t be any tomorrows to seal their relationship again, and that this would be the last time they’re going to be with each other at all. Luhan responds with a growl emanating from the back of his throat and pushes Minseok against the wall, locking him in position with both hands gripping firmly at his waist. He is aware of how perfectly their mouths fit together, their paces matching altogether. He runs his tongue against the other’s lips before kissing him with much gusto, enough to leave his lips swollen.
They’re panting hard, breathless under the dim lighting of their shared apartment and Luhan slips his hands underneath the fabric of Minseok’s shirt, fingers exploring the planes of Minseok’s back as if it was newfound territory even if he has it memorized like the back of his hand. Minseok relents to his touch, and Luhan is so turned on by how Minseok is pliant in his arms that he grinds his hips forward, the heat that’s pooling in his belly getting more and more unmanageable.
Minseok grinds back, unable to hide the tent forming in his pants or the arousal from his moans either. Luhan had always seen Minseok as the epitome of perfection. But in moments like this, when he’s calling out for Luhan and telling him to hurry the fuck up, pulling away to peel his shirt off of him when Luhan only responds with a guttural sound and then kisses him again, rubbing his own hardness against Minseok’s, and then dipping his head on the hollow of Luhan’s collarbones, licking, sucking, leaving marks that would mark his territory, Luhan thinks he might believe that Minseok is not just an angel, but a god that has been graced with immaculateness far beyond what is possible.
Luhan tugs at him by the wrist, and before Minseok could ask what he wants, he’s being carried off on his feet and dumped on the bed, the mattress dipping as Luhan crawls over to Minseok, unable to hold it in anymore. Minseok almost laughs, because this Luhan is far from the sweet, doe-eyed boy he’s met back in college who was so confident during their first time having sex that he almost had Minseok convinced that yes, he’s done this before, if only he knew how to stick his dick in. Minseok had just laughed, asking him if he’s okay with them switching positions instead, and Luhan just ducked his head and nodded, embarrassed, thinking his first time would be perfect if only he watched enough porn videos and didn’t say a thing about his inexperience. But there were no complaints after that, because Luhan has only kept craving for Minseok more and more, like a drug that he needed supplied in his bloodstream just so he could keep on living.
“Oh, how manly.” Minseok says, voice dangerously low, and Luhan curses out loud, because Minseok is the only one who could unravel him like this. It’s not long before they’re both completely naked, skipping all the prepping (“Really Minseok, this isn’t like the first time. I know where to stick my dick in now, quit playing.”), and then trying to angle their hips in the right position so they could get better leverage.
They don’t fumble like their first time, or try to hurry things up like when they’re supposed to be doing something else instead. They don’t take it painfully slow either, as is when Minseok’s in the mood for teasing, just to see Luhan get all annoyed and flustered. They set on a rhythm just enough to satisfy their needs; their wants, yet more than enough to elicit moans out of each other’s lips, punctuating with a searing kiss.
It seems to be only a moment ago when Minseok suddenly showed up in his office, dressed in a beanie and a brown jacket that clashed with the white Hello Kitty shirt Luhan remembers giving him on the day of their first anniversary against lack of better judgment, a plastic with take-outs from the nearest Chinese restaurant in his hand.
He had given Luhan an apologetic look, mouth curved in a crooked smile as if he’s preparing to say something but he’s still contemplating on how to properly say it out loud, probably something along the lines of “I told you I’d come back for you, didn’t I?” because Minseok is such a typical dork that way. But Luhan kissed him right away, greetings dying out at the tip of his tongue.
Minseok had responded by smiling in the middle of their kiss, saying “Well hello to you too,” with mirth in his eyes when they break the kiss for air. It had been easy as that, no fuss, no parties. But Luhan has never been thankful upon seeing Minseok again.
Now they’re lying down together, Luhan’s arms around Minseok’s middle and Minseok’s hands on Luhan’s back even when they’re still sticky and full of sweat, and it’s supposed to be gross, because they’ve only just wiped the come off their bodies and it’s too hot to even cuddle, but Minseok thinks they look perfect this way.
Luhan is mumbling something that Minseok couldn’t quite hear, or he’s probably just mouthing against Minseok’s collarbones as he nuzzles his head deeper, nose rubbing against the hickeys that he’s left there. Minseok hums, content at this little piece that they have of forever, when a thought occurs to him, not wanting to delay things any longer.
“Say… Would you mind? Making this real, I mean.”
Luhan squirms in his position to look back at Minseok, sweaty bangs covering most of his eyes. “Mind what?”
He isn’t sure that he understands what Minseok is talking about, so he makes his assumption that the other is talking about their relationship. “And isn’t this real? You’re here, I’m here, we’re together, and we’ve done this a lot of times. What could be more real than that?”
Minseok hesitates, as if he’s thinking whether or not he should continue or not. “I mean, make it official.” He clarifies anyway.
Luhan makes a noise of confusion that seems to be crossing a tired grunt. “Well aren’t we an official couple? God, practically everybody in this town knows about the two of us even before we became an item.”
“Yes, but there’s a way to make it even more official than that, right?” Minseok sounds hopeful, and Luhan isn’t sure if he could turn Minseok down if it comes to the point that wouldn’t be favorable to him.
Luhan’s arms tighten around Minseok, as if he’s trying to shield his heart for whatever Minseok will say. He knows he’s not supposed to be nervous, because it’s not like Minseok’s implying that he wants them to breakup like the last time they talked, but he couldn’t help but feel an internal turmoil, panic rising to his chest, his heart beating a little too out of rhythm. “Say it straight to the point, Kim Minseok, I don’t have time for your mind games.”
“What I’m trying to say is,” Minseok sighs, his eyelids fluttering close as if telling Luhan “God, can you just please stop being ignorant for a moment?” He opens his eyes and looks down to find Luhan looking up at him expectantly, as if the other man is handing over his own heart to him, telling him to take care of it. Minseok tries not to disappoint, because he only wants Luhan to be pleased. “Will you marry me?”
And it’s not the most romantic setting-not the most conventional one either, to be quite accurate, sweat slicking their bodies and their breathing only starting to get back to normal from the high-but something pricks at Luhan’s heart that he almost cries out loud in joy, because really, he could never have asked for more.
“You should’ve done better, you know.” He still says out loud, enjoying how Minseok grumbles about him being too demanding and rolls his eyes. “Set up a rooftop dinner, put in some candles around, and then handed me flowers before eating. And then we could’ve been talking in the middle of dinner about how we first met, or recall how bad the DJ was during our prom but we still happened to enjoy it, and then you just suddenly drop down to one knee, take out a velvety box and open it to reveal a ring, and then just pop the question.”
“Well geez, then you should’ve been the one to propose.” Minseok heaves a sigh, giving up, because he knows that he should’ve made it special-should’ve just waited a little while longer instead of this moment, so everything would be set and Luhan couldn’t reject him at all.
Luhan touches his cheek lightly, patting it. “Nah, I don’t think I can pull it off as sweetly as you.”
Minseok doesn’t say anything for a moment, but Luhan could tell that he was blushing. Maybe because he was embarrassed for the cheesy things that Luhan kept saying, but maybe it was also because he’s really just fond of that thought, that Luhan still thinks of him that way, but would hate to admit it. “Well I was supposed to ask you during dinner since I took the liberty of buying us take-outs, but the food has probably gone cold. And I just couldn’t wait to ask you. I’m sorry it isn’t as romantic as you wanted it to be.” He confesses, and Luhan almost laughs and pinches his cheeks because he’s just so endearing.
“No Minseok,” Luhan shakes his head with a smile, and hugs Minseok tighter despite the heat. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. And frankly, I don’t think I could ever say no.”
“Thank you,” Minseok whispers into his ear, hugging him back.
Nothing might have gone according to Minseok’s plan, and some things might have fallen out of place and not work out, but Luhan doesn’t care. Because to him, this moment right here is perfect.
“What have you been doing while you were away?” was the first thing Luhan says to break the silence of the room over breakfast the next day. They’ve been skittering around the topic, but Minseok knows that it’s Luhan’s right to know what he has been up to these past few months. He owes Luhan that much, after all. “Have you been…meeting other people?”
Minseok reaches out and drags his arm across Luhan’s back before placing it on his shoulder. Luhan leans in to the touch, resting his head against Minseok’s shoulder and sighing comfortably. And it feels just right, because probably, it was just meant to be there in the first place.
“You know SOPA? That school for idols?’
“Don’t tell me you auditioned to be an idol and then the company told you to go to school there.” Luhan jokes, but it is kind of possible.
“No,” Minseok scoffs. “But I did manage to get a job there. It’s hard not to meet new people once you work in a school. But the thing is, it made me realize more how much I needed you. Every time a student would come to me and ask me about the books published during the Joseon Dynasty, I would remember you sleeping in the library instead of studying for our exam in Korean Literature. Every time my co-workers ask me to have at least a glass of soju with them on a Friday night, I remember when you got drunk and kept shaking that pillow because you thought it was me. Every time I would sit down to write on my lesson plan, I would see a bunched up paper crane that’s been kept pressed in-between the pages, and I would always remember the time you gave it to me and asked if I believed in destiny, because you did, and that maybe we were meant to be.”
“My point is, even when I did enjoy the company of those people, none of them were you. And I guess it would never work out with someone else but you.” Minseok finishes, carding a hand through Luhan’s hair.
Luhan nuzzles his head in Minseok’s neck, puffs of his breath sending shivers down the latter’s spine. “God Minseok, I was only asking if you went out with someone while you were away. I didn’t know you could get this cheesy.”
“I would stop, but you probably want this anyway.” A laugh bubbles up in Minseok’s throat. “You know I’m an easy person to talk to.”
It was a nice suggestion; a cheesy Minseok to compensate for all the grossly cheesy lines Luhan had used back in the days, but Luhan would much rather have the usual Minseok.
Luhan kisses him even though none of them has finished eating breakfast yet.
23
“Minseok, what if we've met differently? Would you still have loved me then?” The question just suddenly comes out of Luhan’s mouth that Minseok almost chokes at his own spit.
They’re sitting side-by-side in the library, reviewing for upcoming their final exam in Korean Literature (which can be alternatively known as “that one subject they’re taking together this year”, as Jongdae has always referred to it), with Minseok flipping through the last few pages of the book because he’s actually reading the text and not absentmindedly staring at the words in a haze just like Luhan is doing so the question takes him aback quite a few steps.
Minseok slides in a slip of a blank sheet of paper in-between the pages of the book to serve as a bookmark before closing it, because he knows Luhan will probably take up most of his attention anyway. “Why’d you ask?” He says, answering Luhan’s question with another question.
Luhan buries his left cheek on top of the book he’s been supposedly reading (supposedly, because he’s only ever flipped through the book and checked how many pages he’s supposed to read before giving up and just staring at the same page for 10 minutes straight without even absorbing anything at all) and looks at Minseok through his eyelashes. “Nothing, I was just thinking.”
“You’re thinking too much.” Minseok reaches out and runs a hand through his hair, the gesture sending chills down Luhan’s spine. The black roots of his hair looks contrastingly dark as compared to the lightness of the blonde he had his hair dyed in, but despite the chemicals, his hair is still soft. He’s probably going to re-dye his hair anyway in a month or so (back to shades of brunette, probably, because he’s never to settle on a single hair color for a very long time), but it would still probably be as fluffy as Minseok remembers it to be.
“But I just wanted to know what you thought. Come on, tell me.”
“Well, let’s think of it this way,” Minseok shifts in his seat, so he’s facing Luhan better. “There’s a varying realm of possibilities out there: shifting, waiting, changing. But we have this instead of something else, and I have you instead of someone else. And even if there are a thousand and one other alternatives out there, I still think I’d like this realm better. And if this isn’t what you call fate, I don’t know what is.”
Luhan chuckles at the seriousness in his tone, as if he was giving a seminar in the lecture hall instead of just talking with his boyfriend. “And you say too much.”
“Well, as you said before: We’re perfect for each other, aren’t we?”
25
The second time they almost break up, Luhan is poring through an arrangement of suits that he’s supposed to go through to pick one for their wedding.
“It’s just the pre-wedding jitters,” Jongdae had said when Minseok came in, telling Luhan that he isn’t sure about this, after all. But Minseok had looked at them both with such a sullen expression on his face that Jongdae had decided to just step out of it, declaring that it was none of his business even though he was the best man and it was probably part of his business.
“I’m serious, Luhan. I’m nervous, yes, but I don’t think we’re still both ready for this.” Minseok fidgets from where he’s standing, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. “Can we… Call the wedding off?”
“...or maybe just postpone it for a bit?” he adds in a haste when he sees Luhan’s crestfallen expression. It’s written all over his face how much he’s been looking forward to the wedding, and Minseok would be lying if he said that he wasn’t too, but his mind is just full of indecisions and insecurities and-he’s not even sure where he’s supposed to begin.
“But you were the one who proposed!” Luhan almost screams in frustration. Why couldn’t have Minseok told him earlier? Why couldn’t have Minseok grabbed him by the wrist, looked him right in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it,” right from the very beginning? Why had Minseok even popped the question in the first place?
“I know, and it was stupid of me. I mean, it was stupid of me to rush things,” he adds in explanation when a look of pain flashes through Luhan’s eyes as if he’s been physically slapped by Minseok. “It’s not like I regret being with you, Luhan; I don’t. You are the best thing that has ever happened in my life, and I’m really sorry that this had to happen. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He’s stumbling over his apologies, tears starting to fall from his eyes. And Luhan knows that it’s a really crappy way to apologize, crying in the middle of saying sorry, but Minseok means it, means every word coming out of his mouth; takes every apology out of his heart.
And how could Luhan even say “No, I can’t accept your apology,” when Minseok means so much more to him than the act of becoming one permanently? How can he turn his back on Minseok, when he’s all that Luhan wants; when he’s all that Luhan could ever have hoped for? Minseok meant much more to him than any marriage or wedding would ever mean to someone else.
So he hugs Minseok, tears staining his dress shirt. His embrace is warm, welcoming, forgiving, that Minseok is overwhelmed and he cries harder, with Luhan rubbing soothing circles on his back, whispering that “It’s okay, I’m not mad. It’s okay Minseok, don’t cry anymore.” And he smells so much like home that Minseok doesn’t even know why he did that; what took over him to deny them of this piece of reality that could string them together permanently, bind them together for as long as they live, even when he knows that he wouldn’t mind-even when he knows that if there was such a thing as an eternity, he’d gladly spend it with Luhan.
Luhan squeezes Minseok arm in reassurance that they would be fine, that everything would be alright, but even he knows that their relationship wouldn’t be the same as it had used to be.
26
The fourth time it happens, however, they actually do break up.
Luhan is sitting on a chair that the owner had boasted back then to be 100% made out of mahogany inside a fancy restaurant that has quite some great food on their menu but isn’t that famous yet in their neighborhood, and he tries not to settle on the fact that this is the fifth time that he’s checked his watch for the past thirty minutes.
Surely, Minseok couldn’t have forgotten that it’s their anniversary, right?
He’s probably just busy with his work. Luhan waves off, trying not to delve into the nitty-gritty facts anymore.
“Sir, are you still not ready to order?” a waiter comes up to him, a laminated copy of the standard menu in his hands.
“I’m still waiting for someone.” Luhan smiles dryly. “But it won’t be long before he comes.” I guess, he almost wants to say, but he avoids thinking of how true it could be. The waiter leaves with a respectful bow, but not before Luhan saw the look in his eyes bordering around pity as if to say that Luhan looked pitiful sitting there, waiting for someone that would never probably come.
Usually Luhan would say that that’s impossible, because Minseok always, always keeps his promises. He came back even after he left, right? And he never left after that, because he promised Luhan. And he’s never failed to show how apologetic he was after they cancelled the wedding, trying his best to make it up to Luhan in every way possible.
But right now, from the ten messages with varying degrees of asking Minseok where he could probably be and if he could still make it, followed up by fourteen missed calls that Luhan has been trying to put up with for the past forty minutes
He’s forgotten you, the thought nags at the back of his mind.
He hasn’t. He’s really just busy. He tells himself.
Busy enough to forget your fifth anniversary? How sad, the voice sneers, and Luhan fists his hands over his thighs, because that’s all he could do to fend off the frustration that’s building up inside of him.
Luhan hopes, and hopes, and hopes, because he knows that Minseok would always come back for him. So he waits, and waits, and waits… until the rain starts to pour, and his vision is blurred by the heavy pelts of water sliding off of the glass door, where he’s been staring at for the past hour.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Minseok wouldn’t come-would never come, and he’d just been a fool to wait for someone who would never get around.
So he stands up, his bones creaking from the past hour he’s spent sitting alone, missing the part of their story when they were just falling for each other; when nothing else mattered but the two of them being together, and no one else’s opinion could affect what they shared.
But his heart, though heavy with disappointment, believes otherwise.
“I-I understand,” Minseok says, even though he’s struggling to process the idea of Luhan leaving him. The ring that Luhan gave him back feels cold against the skin of his palm, and he closes his fingers over it, feeling the cold bite of the metal on his skin. “I should’ve called you earlier to tell you that I’ve been caught up in a meeting, but I didn’t, because it slipped my mind. And I know it doesn’t change anything, but still, I’m really sorry. Not just for this, but for everything.”
“I’m sorry for being an asshole. I’m sorry for leaving you back then just because I was confused. I’m sorry for asking you to call off the wedding because I felt like I wasn’t ready yet, even though I knew it in my bones that you were the one. I’m sorry for letting every opportunity slip past me, even when all you’ve been doing is to try to be understanding. I’m sorry for not being able to keep all of my promises. I’m sorry I turned out to be the one who’s hurting you instead, when I promised you that I would take care of you and protect you.”
The words that Luhan wants to say back taste bitter in his tongue and he wants to spit them out, to shout them back at Minseok, but he holds them back and chokes on them instead. "Some things are just made to end," he says instead, looking away.
He doesn't want to meet Minseok's eyes. He doesn't want to see the look of betrayal from his own expression being reflected in those same eyes that used to look at him so lovingly, especially when he knows that they could have done something to avoid this.
“..and probably, our ending was just meant to be this way."
Minseok smiles at him sadly, cocking his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "I really miss the old us. But I guess we can’t get back to that, can we?"
Luhan finds it hard to swallow the lump in his throat. It’s tempting, the thought of starting over again. Scrapping the ugly and torn pages of their story and adding in a new one, still blank, a lot of free space to be written on. “Not-not after this. Things are different now, Minseok.”
Minseok nods. “I understand.” He does, because he knows this was his fault. Luhan had been nothing but kind to him, but he just had to be covered up in all of his confusion. But in his heart, he still hopes.
Why can’t we just let these memories remain as memories? Why can’t we just leave them there and forget them all? Why can’t they all just disappear?
Why can’t we just start over again?
It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s over before they could think about it much.
Luhan’s gone out the door, his belongings in hand before Minseok gets to string up another set of apologies. It isn’t long before Minseok has packed up too, putting the apartment up for sale.
Nobody wants to remember what happened there, anyway.
pt.2|>>