didn't want to escape (from the bricks that I laid down) → for EVERYONE (1/2)
Title: didn't want to escape (from the bricks that I laid down)
Pairing(s): Minseok/Yixing, slight!Luhan/Joonmyun, slight!Luhan/Yixing, ninja!Luhan/Sehun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: character death, language
Word count: 17,886
Summary: "Isn't is better to have loved than lost?" Yixing asks, looking back at the painting. Minseok shakes his head. "No. Then there's no holes to fill."
January 23, 2019 - Wednesday
Minseok's phone rings just as he reaches his destination. He pulls it out of his pocket with cold fingers to read the caller's name. He sighs when he sees it's just his floor manager for his new exhibit. He had told the guy he wouldn't be available even for emergencies; he's taking this Wednesday to put his best friend first. He presses reject on the display and drops the phone back in his pocket.
Minseok shakes the snow from his hair as he steps into Cups, his traditional Wednesday meeting place with his best friend. He glances around, searching for whatever table Luhan had chosen to park himself and two mugs of black coffee. In their college days, the two had been coffee enthusiasts. After Luhan's ex-girlfriend broke up with him by throwing a pot of just brewed coffee at him, he developed a dislike for the stuff. He still had a burn scar on his collarbone to show for it. However, the habit of visiting the coffee shop every Wednesday hadn't quite died.
Minseok journeys toward the back of the shop where the warmth from the fireplace is almost too hot. Luhan and he have always been a cold-blooded pair. Sure enough, sitting laid back in one of the arm chairs with a steaming cup of joe in front of him is his best friend. He's thrown his jacket over the armchair to his right to reserve the seat for Minseok. Unexpectedly, there are three mugs of coffee already on the table, and Luhan's already chatting with a person to his left. Minseok blinks a few times, shrugs out of his jacket, and hurries forward to claim his seat.
The guy talking to Luhan pauses mid-sentence, the slur of Mandarin cutting out in favor of Luhan's bright English greeting.
"Hey, Minseok," he says, slight Chinese accent showing. Minseok smiles at him.
"Feels good to hear that name," he says. "How've you been, Lu?"
"What? Getting tired of Mitch already?" He laughs, "I'm good, man. Been good." He grabs Minseok in a one-armed hug, gripping him carefully around the neck as he maneuvers around the coffee table to stand at Minseok's side. "You? Why'd you bail the past two weeks?"
Minseok shrugs. "I've been caught up. Sometimes the urge to create just hits me, you know?" Luhan nods along like he didn't drop out of advertising (a creative major) to major in accounting (a decidedly boring major). Minseok gestures towards the guy his best friend had been talking to. "And uh- who's this?"
"Ah, Minseok," Luhan says, putting on a bit of his business voice. Minseok raises one suspicious eyebrow in his direction. "This is Zhang Yixing. He's my first friend after I moved State-side. He's Chinese too, if the name didn't give it away. Yixing, this is my best masterpiece." Yixing gives Luhan an unimpressed glance before Luhan remembers to finish the introduction. "I call it Minseok." Minseok gives his best friend a playful shove.
"Minseok?" Yixing looks confused. It's adorable. "That's not Chinese."
"Korean," Minseok offers. "Second generation immigrant. My parents just couldn't bear to give me an American name. I change it every so often. Currently, as Luhan demonstrated, I'm going by Mitch." His best friend snorts. Minseok fixes him with a glare.
"Are you judging me, Hans?"
This time it's Yixing who snorts. "That's a new one, Lu-ge," he says. "Choose that after you got out of college?" Luhan moans pitifully, clutching his heart. Yixing slaps his shoulder good-naturedly, telling him without words to answer the question.
"Originally I wanted to go by Hans went I got back here," Luhan whispers, side-eyeing Minseok who had been there for the Lucas stage in college and the Hans phase upon graduation. "But then some Disney movie came out. What was it?"
"Frozen," Minseok laughs, clutching his stomach. "The evil prince was called Hans. Luhan thought it'd scare away 'the ladies'." He makes air quotes around the last phrase. It's Yixing's turn to bring out the side-eye at this comment.
"Luhan, you're gay," he says. Luhan sputters.
"Bisexual!" He argues, pointing at the scar peeking through the collar of his shirt. Yixing simply rolls his eyes.
"Ok then," he says, voice mocking as he acquiesces, "Bisexual with a very strong and overwhelming preference for dick."
Luhan glowers. "Takes one to know one," he mutters. Minseok catches on to this comment. Yixing must have noticed his slight change in posture and quickly backtracks.
"S-sorry," he stutters, "Uh, I-"
"It's cool," Minseok says simply, forcibly relaxing his posture. It seems he's somehow made Yixing uncomfortable. Luhan is busy giggling madly next to them. "And what do you tell the common American to call you, Yixing?"
"Well there's nothing close to Yixing, so I go by Ryan," Yixing shrugs. Minseok laughs.
"Ryan?" He says. "Like, Saving Private Ryan?"
"Yeah man," Yixing says, almost appearing offended. "I used to idolize that movie. Don't judge."
Minseok holds up his hands. "I'm not, I'm not. Just. Ryan."
"Whatever you say, Mitch," Yixing throws back.
"Minseok," Minseok corrects, "I prefer Minseok." He holds out his hand. Yixing stands and grabs his hand, giving it a firm shake.
"Yixing then," he says. "It's nice to meet you." Minseok smiles an agreement. He pointedly ignores the glimmer in Luhan's eyes as the three men seat themselves. After their lengthy introductions, they dissolve into small talk. It's boring, but pleasant, and Minseok feels himself letting all the stress from the past weeks flowing out of him as he sips at the coffee Luhan had bought him. Looking back, Minseok doesn't remember much of the conversation, but he does remember noticing the dimple poking into Yixing's right cheek every time he smiles. It's only when Luhan's re-telling his tale about tearing his ACL in college that anything interesting crops up in the conversation.
"-and it hurt like a bitch for weeks after," Luhan's saying, "of course, that's nothing compared to Yixing's injury."
Minseok glances at the Chinese man, "You're injured?"
Luhan leans over to Minseok, hand on the Korean man's shoulder to balance himself. "My poor baby Yixing. Injured in the line of duty. The sorrow." Despite his teasing words, Luhan does show legitimate concern for his childhood friend.
"So you're on medical leave?" Minseok asks.
Luhan nods, patting his childhood friend's knee. "Ah, Captain Zhang, do share what you got did to yourself."
Yixing shakes his head. "Lu-ge, please. If you're going to speak English, at least use correct English." Luhan sneers at him.
"Fucker."
"Captain?" Minseok interrupts. "Army? Air Force?"
"Navy, actually." Minseok can't stop the impressed whistle that leaves his lips.
"How in the world did you get that promotion when you're..."
"Twenty-seven?" Yixing rolls his shoulders back, wincing. He takes a moment to breathe. "Work hard and get beat up enough times and next thing you know you could be President."
Luhan gasps and reels back dramatically. "Don't tell me we elected President Davis because we pity him?"
Minseok glances at Yixing, unsure if his next comment is correct in the face of someone taking orders from the man in office. "You've gotta admit though, Davis' past in the military makes him a good Commander-in-Chief in the face of war."
Yixing snorts. "There are times to fight and times to step back and look at the bigger picture. At this point I think we are too far in to pull back and avoid disaster."
"Sounds like a forewarning," Minseok comments idly, finishing his own coffee and reaching for Luhan's.
"Maybe," the Navy Captain says, "but enough of us are out on medical leave at the moment that it seems more like a prophecy."
Luhan jerks up and points a finger in Yixing's face. "Alright Private Ryan, tell us what you're out for." Minseok leans forward a bit, his interest plain on his face. Yixing shoves his childhood friend's hand away from his face.
"Grenade," he mutters. "It was stupid. Grenades aren't what get you - it's the shrapnel. Nearly died from the blood loss. Tore up my back and arms. I don't even know how many stitches I've got holding me together." He sighs, tugging on the sleeves on his jacket. "Happened two months ago in November." Minseok suddenly remembers the looks of pain that had crossed Yixing's face as he'd stood to greet him, as he'd sat down, and as he stretched forward.
"When do you go back?" Minseok wonders.
"October," Yixing answers at the same time as Luhan says "one year."
"Ah," Minseok says, at a loss for words. He opens his mouth to say something else when DBSK's Mirotic blasts from Luhan's phone. The man pulls it from his pocket, answering quickly. He switches to Mandarin seamlessly, and Minseok feels hopelessly lost while Yixing nods along. He gives him a questioning stare.
"His mother," Yixing mouths. He glances at his own phone. "We were supposed to meet her half an hour ago." Minseok's eyebrows furrow.
"How late is it?" He asks. Luhan hangs up, turning to his best friend quickly.
"It's already one!" He says, eyes widened a bit in panic. His mother has always been one to stress punctuality. "We gotta go." He reaches out a hand to help Yixing up before grapping Minseok up in a hug.
"I'll see you next week, ok?" Minseok nods; Luhan smiles. He still looks ugly when he smiles. "Great!" He issues what Minseok assumes to be "hurry" to Yixing. The other Chinese man smiles apologetically. His smile is much nicer.
"It was nice meeting you," he says, "I'd bow but."
"It's ok," Minseok says, "Maybe I'll see you later."
"Sure." And then Yixing and Luhan are gone, winding their way out of Cups and out to Luhan's car. Minseok checks his own watch, sees the hands hovering over 1:02. It's then that he remembers the he's meeting with the manager of his gallery to discuss the final touches and the centerpiece at two o'clock. He still needs to shower and change. Within the next breath, Minseok too is out the door.
January 29, 2019 - Tuesday
The next time Minseok sees Yixing is at the Laundromat when Minseok's scowling unattractively at a stain on his last pair of nice khakis.
"What'd those pants ever do to you?" Is Yixing's pleasant greeting. Minseok jumps, his hands coming up instinctively to guard his face. His ruined pants fall to the ground. Yixing laughs.
"Whoa, sorry," he says, "I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine," Minseok says immediately, feeling color flood his face at his extreme reaction to Luhan's friend. "I was just startled." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly and shrugs. "I suppose I was a bit focused."
"On a pair of pants," Yixing points out, his tone teasing, "are you mad at the pants?"
"It's not the pants, but the paint stained on them that I'm mad at," Minseok answers honestly. He looks down at the khakis now sitting on his shoe and continues his grumbling, ignoring the knit brows on Yixing's face.
"How'd you get paint on them?" Yixing asks. Minseok kicks his foot up, snatching his pants out of midair. He stares one more time at the stain on the crotch before he moves to throw them in the trash. He'll go shopping for new ones later.
"I knocked into the counter with my brush in hand. If fell onto my outfit for a meeting earlier today." Minseok gestures as the nearly full washing machine in front of him. "Figured it's as good of an excuse as any to finally do my laundry." He turns around then to face the dryer behind him. The "done" light is blinking slowly, and Minseok opens the door to start meticulously folding the clean clothes.
"Sure, makes sense to me," Yixing says casually. Minseok pauses in his folding.
"I don't think I've ever talked about laundry for so long before," he muses.
"Is it boring?" Yixing asks him, throwing his clothes into a washing machine. Minseok doesn't answer for a few minutes, folding another couple of shirts and listening to the beeps of the washing machine the other man is starting up. When he does answer, he surprises himself at the response.
"No," he says, "It's comfortable." Yixing smiles then, and Minseok finds his eyes drawn to his dimple. They don't speak for awhile, but they do sit side by side in the plastic chairs at the Laundromat. Yixing bobs his head gently to the music Minseok can just faintly hear coming from his headphones. He busies himself with his email, answering anything dealing with his exhibit first.
When the timer on his washer beeps, Minseok startles. Yixing glances at him oddly before he realizes that his washer is also beeping a happy "finished!" at him.
"You only have one load?" Yixing looks down at his single empty bag as he transfers wet clothes to the dryer.
"Yeah," he says, "I kind of grew out of my old ones after joining the navy, and since then I haven't worn much but a uniform with the war going on." Minseok nods as if he understands, but he doesn't. Yixing's pointed look at Minseok's three bags of clothes gives him away.
"I have a lot of clothes for work," Minseok amends, starting up the dryer. He casually passes Yixing his last quarter that he doesn't need when he sees the confused look on the Captain's face as he stares at his handful of three quarters. Yixing thanks him. "But all of them are kind of shabby."
"Shabby," Yixing repeats, "For work?" Minseok nods and scratches absently at a streak of green on the back of his hand. Yixing notices, raising an eyebrow. "What do you do?"
"I paint," Minseok supplies, "I, uh- never could figure out anything I wanted to do. I liked analyzing paintings in English classes and always thought of other pictures that would be cool to analyze. At one point I took an art class and-" He cuts himself off abruptly, noticing Yixing's calm expression. "Sorry. You didn't ask for all that."
Yixing smiles, leaning on his selected dryer and maintaining eye contact with Minseok. "No, keep going. I find it fascinating. I'm just used to keeping a neutral expression during briefings or when listening to my men talk."
"Ah, well," Minseok continues slowly, clearing this throat and forcing himself not to blush. Every reference Yixing makes to his days in the military has him picturing the Chinese man in uniform.
Really, there is nothing sexier than a man in uniform.
"I took an art class, and I guess I had talent for it," he says, "I just never stopped painting. Then some lady bought one of my pieces for way more than it was worth. Painter sort of...became my career."
"How does that work?" Yixing asks. He checks his watch and looks at the timer on the dryer. He mouths the two numbers. He looks up with his tongue stuck between his lips as he thinks through the math. It's cute.
"Umm," Minseok says, momentarily distracted. Yixing gives him a wide-eyed look.
"Or it doesn't? And you're a starving artist?" He rambles. "Sorry, I didn't think-"
"No, no, I...was distracted," Minseok assures. He lays a comforting hand on Yixing's shoulder. The muscle shifts under his touch. "I usually put up exhibits of my work and invite critiques and collectors to come see it. At the end of the exhibit, I'll host an auction. Selling one or two paintings usually covers the cost of the building and the people I hire to run the exhibit and auction. After that's paid, the rest of the money is mine."
Yixing looks nothing short of amazed. "And...are you successful?" He asks it quietly, as if afraid of offending Minseok. He often seems afraid of offending him. In answer, Minseok pulls out his phone and opens his Gallery, flipping to the previews of the work from his last couple of exhibits. Yixing gasps, pointing at one photo.
It's a picture of a hand nestled in slowly dying grass. The fingers are curled around a bitten apple, and a snake is wrapped around the arm of the unseen person, it's forked tongue flicking out to lick the apple.
"That's An End of Paradise, isn't it?" Yixing says. "I know that one. Some guy with a Chinese name- Xiumin, I think- made it."
"Yeah," Minseok says, "Xiumin. That's me."
"Oh," Yixing murmurs, his hand out as if he wants to touch the phone's screen. "Oh. I had no idea. Luhan said you were an artist but he didn't- Xiumin. Wow."
Minseok can't stop the blush that crawls up his neck. "Ah, thanks."
"I'm serious," Yixing continues, "My parents always send me postcards with your paintings on the backs. I really loved your work." Minseok expresses his gratitude again, choosing not to comment on the past tense verb. He wonders if Yixing no longer likes his paintings. A horrible sick feeling of needing to be better strikes him in the gut. Minseok squashes it, choosing to wait out the remaining minutes until his clothes are dried making only the occasional comment to Yixing. He answers a call from his floor manager, shrugging apologetically at Yixing who shakes his head. It's after Minseok has ended the call, saying he has errands to run, that Yixing gives him that same straight faced look with curiosity visible in his eyes.
"Where are you off to?" Yixing asks conversationally. Minseok jerks his thumb back towards the garbage.
"I suppose I need to go shopping for new khakis," he laughs, "And probably get a suit while I'm at it. Need to look good to sell my stuff."
"I'm sure you look great in everything," Yixing comments casually, resting his hand on Minseok's shoulder. Minseok tenses, his head jerking up to stare at Yixing's face. He knows his own displays shock and uncertainty. In an instant, Yixing's hand is gone from his shoulder, and he's stuttering out apologies.
"I'm sorry, really," he starts, "don't think anything bad of me, alright? I just can't help myself from a little flirting sometimes, you know? I've been on the battlefield for too long, and I forget the standard of societal norm sometimes. Besides, Luhan said you were gay, but then again you know Luhan. He can't be trusted most of the time, so I wasn't sure. I don't want to freak you out-"
"Yixing," Minseok interrupts him, his mouth moving slowly over the other man's name, "I am gay."
For the second time in the conversation, Yixing repeats, "Oh. Oh."
"Yeah," Minseok says, "So." The air between them becomes awkward after Minseok's confession, the two of them hovering around each other without an idea of how to break the ice. The dryers do it for the both of them, beeping one after the other. Minseok scurries to gather his clothes, shoving them in bags and not bothering to properly fold them.
"Well, I'll see you," Minseok says, hefting his laundry bags over his shoulders and fishing his car keys out of his coat pocket. He smiles with a bit of uncertainty, unsure of Yixing's reaction. He can practically feel the awkward tension between them prickling against his skin.
Then Yixing grins, and his dimple shows. Minseok feels relief crash through the weight in his chest. "You will," he promises. As Minseok walks away, his smile is very real and very difficult to erase.
February 8, 2019 - Friday
"Are you ready?" Joonmyun asks, the familiar syllables of Minseok's native language calm his nerves as he stands in front of the doors to open his exhibit.
"You're ready," Joonmyun assures, a gentle hand on Minseok's wrist. Minseok nods and cues his floor manager. Simultaneously, they swing the doors open, and Minseok is there, smiling to greet the line of well-dressed patrons. The handshakes are formal; the words simple and panegyric. It flies by Minseok in a blur. The words from art enthusiasts wax a little bit historical, comparing Minseok's style to Dali and Van Gogh (Minseok doesn't quite see it), and the words from critics are unnecessarily harsh but full of advice. The clueless comments from those who find art simply nice-to-look-at always give Minseok a small laugh, and the art collectors' stern but pleased eyes always give him the urge to continue painting.
Minseok is distracted with a conversation with one of his major collectors when Luhan and Yixing make an appearance. Somewhere behind him, he can hear Joonmyun introducing himself and giving them a quick rundown of the set-up of the exhibit. He hears Luhan giggle, and has to physically restrain himself from face-palming. Luhan is rather transparent with his affections and blatantly obvious with his objects of lust.
It seems Joonmyun falls into the latter category.
He bids goodbye to the collector, shaking her hand and complimenting her dress, before he turns around to watch Luhan coerce Joonmyun into giving him a private tour. He laughs, watching the two disappear with champagne and wine glasses in hand respectively. He turns back to where Yixing is standing. Their eyes meet. The Navy Captain moves smoothly toward him, a rented suit fitting elegantly over his shoulders.
"Hello, Xiumin," Yixing greets casually. Minseok nearly gapes at Yixing's nonchalance. It's too attractive on him, and Minseok's thoughts are dragged into a closet with his mouth occupied with the skin just above Yixing's collar. Yixing laughs then, a bright, sunny-day sound, and Minseok is drawn back to the here and now, standing in his exhibition with Yixing next to him.
"This is really cool," Yixing murmurs in awe, his eyes constantly darting around at the paintings on display. He takes a sip of his wine and winces at the taste.
"You don't like the wine?" Minseok asks, "What do you have? Cabernet? Merlot?"
Yixing looks utterly confused. Minseok holds out his hand impatiently, and Yixing passes him the glass. He takes a careful sip, savoring the flavor.
"Ah," he says, tapping his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "This is good. You don't like it?" He repeats the question. He's happy to finish Yixing's wine for him if it makes his nerves from talking to the Captain settle.
"Honestly, I just like a good beer," Yixing informs him. "Wine is...too pretentious for me."
Minseok gives him a teasing look, "Your taste buds are unrefined, my friend." Yixing looks horribly affronted, but the quirk in his lips belies his expression.
"Excuse you, I have wonderful taste," Yixing argues, "I came to your show, didn't I?"
Minseok passes him back his wine glass. "Come," he says, "I want your opinion on my centerpiece." He presses his hand to the small of Yixing's back, leading him toward the back of the hall where the lights emphasize the large painting that Minseok had completed only a few days ago. He guides him to stand directly in front of Minseok's centerpiece and take in the whole appeal of it.
"This is Bliss," Minseok introduces, gesturing towards the painting.
Bliss is a warm palette painting, filled with rich red and orange, the skin of the subject a gentle peach, the auburn hues of her hair painted with the brushstrokes of a waterfall. In her hands, a white rosebud is clasped, her face pointed towards a rainless sky with orange and yellow clouds, the sky itself a deep purple that fades in a gradient to the red pool that allows her dress to flow around her. She looks peaceful, happy, and blissful.
The white rosebud, a symbol of a heart ignorant of love glows brighter than the rest of the painting, casting exaggerated shadows on the girl's hands.
Minseok is quite proud of it.
It's a long moment few moments before Yixing speaks, but Minseok watches his face. He looks at the contours of his lips and the dips in his cheeks. He watches Yixing's eyes narrow and the contemplative way he bites at his lower lip. Minseok quickly glances at his own painting to forcefully stop his staring. Yixing takes a breath in to begin to speak, and Minseok's gaze snaps back to the Navy Captain.
"I don't like it," he says simply. Minseok swears he hears something crashing inside himself. He feels a bit angry, but accepts that harsh criticism is to be expected as an artist, even if he never expected to hear it from someone who is quickly becoming a close friend.
"Really?" Minseok asks. Yixing nods, rubbing his chin.
"Yeah," he answers, "It's really sad." He cocks his head to the side and thinks a little. "It's a bit pathetic." Minseok blinks.
"How?" He fights to the angry edge out of his voice, but he's not sure he succeeds. Yixing looks just as calm as ever as he turns to face him.
"I'm not saying the picture isn't good," he amends, "It's really well painted, but the message...I don't think this is bliss at all." He draws Minseok forward, a bit closer to the painting. This close, Minseok can see his brush strokes, watch where the warm oranges and purples almost bleed together to create the sad brown that Minseok streaked over with silver to create that ethereal edge.
"Isn't ignorance bliss?" Minseok says, "Like the adage."
Yixing gives him an odd look. "I don't think so. Not when talking about love anyway." Minseok makes a vague hand motion to ask Yixing to continue.
"With love, I think the adage "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" is more appropriate," Yixing explains, "To never have loved, it may be blissful from ignorance, but wouldn't it be lonely as well?" Minseok tries to come up with a response that doesn't sound immaturely defensive, but in the end says nothing.
"Ah," he articulates, swallowing thickly. Yixing looks apologetic, but Minseok is already rambling about how he chose the theme for this exhibit, focusing on the happiness and sadness of being alone. He keeps the conversation far away from his centerpiece, smiling brightly when Luhan returns with Joonmyun. Luhan looks a proud mess, and Joonmyun is impeccably dressed except for the swelling of his lips and the hickey peeking out of his collar.
Minseok hides his rude snicker behind a poor cough.
Joonmyun notices and flushes before checking his watch.
"It's nearly ten, and people have consumed enough alcohol to loosen their inhibitions"- Luhan inserts a laugh-snort hybrid here -"so shall we get to the auction?"
Minseok nods, passing Yixing and Luhan as he heads toward the stage. Luhan immediately starts whispering in rapid-fire Mandarin to Yixing who shakes his head with a worried look. Minseok stubbornly keeps his head forward, asking Joonmyun casually about his time with Luhan. The persistent blush on his cheeks is enough to keep Minseok mirthfully smirking through the entire auction process, going home with a couple hundred thousand dollars secured in his account.
As soon as the artist exits the exhibit space, Yixing's words come back to haunt him, nagging at him in the back of his mind.
February 9, 2019 - Saturday
It's past midnight when Minseok unlocks the door to his apartment after the exhibit. He pulls off his jacket and tosses it carelessly across the kitchen counter. He's a clean person, truly, but now his mind is stuck, continuously looping through a conversation he'd had just over five hours ago.
"To never have loved, it may be blissful from ignorance, but wouldn't it be lonely as well?"
Minseok kicks off his shoes and toes off his socks, nimble fingers already working at the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt. His sketchbook lies within sight on his drafting table. His eyes never leave the blank page that tempts him. The words he'd wanted to say back to Yixing, the words that seemed to childish in response echo after Yixing's comment.
"That's not the point. The idea is that love isn't necessary to have a fulfilled life."
Minseok grabs a pencil, flicking on the lights and sitting at his table. The graphite seems to lead him, the smooth lines building into something that isn't bliss, something deeper, something darker.
"It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Minseok squints, memory building the image of the person who will become the next subject of his next masterpiece. Black hair is shaded with purple highlights under a night with a dimly sketched broken moon. The color palate builds in his mind's eye, and Minseok can almost see the rough sketch becoming a grand canvas of a story told in one image.
With a sleepy smile and determined heart, Minseok goes to bed.
March 17, 2019 - Sunday
It's another month before Minseok sees Yixing again. His face has filled out a little more, and he no longer flinches every time he shifts his shoulders. This time, Minseok is leaning against the hood of his car with his arms crossed and jacket zipped up to his nose while waiting for the Chili's people to get him his To-Go.
"You look cold," a voice says from his left. Minseok jumps a little, his arms uncrossing and lips coming into view above his jacket collar as he turns on his heel. He almost rolls his eyes because of course it's Yixing waiting for his own Chili's To-Go. Of course it is.
"It's not exactly warm yet," Minseok answers, roaming a judging eye over Yixing's T-shirt and hoodie. He should definitely be cold, Minseok thinks. "And is saying "hello" as a greeting out of fashion now?"
Yixing laughs. "Hello," he throws in teasingly. Minseok responds in turn, rolling his eyes. Yixing's dimple it too cute.
"What'd you order?" He asks amicably. Minseok side-eyes him.
"Are you just the king of small talk?" He teases. Yixing flushes, his right hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. His shirt lifts, and Minseok is riveted by the sliver of toned skin the movement reveals.
"Sorry," Yixing says, "What would you like me to ask about?" Minseok pretends to think, pressing a finger to his lips. The conversation becomes fluid after that, the time spent waiting for their food passing in easy banter. Minseok feel comfortable, and judging by the relaxed slope of Yixing's shoulders, he is too.
It's after they've both stowed their food in their cars, that Yixing approaches Minseok with a twinge of nervousness in his demeanor. Minseok hardly notices: he'd been watching Yixing lean over to put his food in the passenger seat, his mind moving from the real image to a painted romanticism of Yixing.
"I think this random run-in pattern we've got going on isn't going to cut it," Yixing says. He holds something out to Minseok. It's his phone.
"Why do I need this?" The artist asks, his brain still swirling with broad shoulders covered with dress blues against an orange sunset that reflects off of white skin. He blinks.
Yixing suddenly looks unsure. "Umm, I'm asking for your number?" He shrugs as if it's no big thing, but his tensed smile and eyes that flicker just slightly to the right betray his nerves. Minseok can't stop his own smile, the lopsided one, from breaking out across his face.
"Oh, of course," he says. He takes the phone, carefully spelling out 'Mitchell Kim' into Yixing's address book. When he hands it back, the Captain glances at it, sighs, and deletes the name from the number. He replaces it with "Kim Minseok" and shows it to Minseok. The artist can't help the elation starting to bubble in his chest. He feels incredibly light.
"It's your real name, right?" Yixing asks. He types something very quickly into his phone. Only a few seconds later, Minseok feels his phone vibrate against his leg from his pocket. He pulls it out to see a new message from an unknown sender. He glances at Yixing who grins.
"You better save my number," he teases, miming punching something as a sort of threat. Minseok shakes his head and snorts, tapping the name "Private Ryan (Yixing)" into his contacts. Yixing sputters. It's unattractive, but Minseok thinks it's cute.
April 5, 2019 - Friday
Minseok is elbow deep in purple paint, some green streaked across his forehead when his phone rings. He sighs, stubbornly ignoring it and relaxing only when the ring stops. He reaches for a pale turquoise, dipping his fingers into it and staring at the purple already on his fingers that swirls off his hand to taint the color.
The phone rings again.
Minseok lets out a loud gurgle of annoyance, his careful, serene moment of painting ruined. He grabs a towel and wipes his hands clean enough to touch his phone. He swipes the screen.
"You interrupted my painting," he says by way of greeting. There's a cute laugh from the other end.
"Is 'hello' out of fashion now?" Yixing says. Minseok's eyes widen and he pulls his phone back from his ear to glance at the caller ID. Sure enough, Private Ryan (Yixing) is lit up on his screen.
Minseok coughs.
"I mean hello," Minseok amends. "How are you?" He sounds a bit breathless, and he hopes Yixing doesn't notice.
"I'm a little nervous," Yixing says. Minseok's face crumples into a confused expression. That was not on any list of expected answers.
"Uh, why?" Minseok asks. He can practically hear Yixing's dimpled smile.
"Because I'm going to do something a bit crazy, but I'm hoping you'll say yes," Yixing explains. Minseok thinks he sounds a little breathless too. He hears a nervous laugh, and his heart beats a little faster.
"Yeah?" He prompts. Yixing waits a moment, and Minseok pictures him blushing, his dimple digging into his cheek and his teeth worrying his bottom lip.
"I have reservations for two for the opening night of this new restaurant in town," Yixing says. "I would like you to come with me." He clears his throat. "On Saturday. Like tomorrow. As my date."
The yes bubbles up in Minseok's chest, his excitement palpable around him.
"Yes," he says, hoping he doesn't sound too excited, "Of course. I'd love to."
A relieved breath and another laugh from Yixing sound through the speakers. "Great. I- that's great. Umm. Text me your address and I'll pick you up at seven, ok?"
"Okay," Minseok responds. "I'll...see you then."
"Yeah, thanks."
Minseok blinks, "for what?"
"For saying yes," Yixing answers. He's still adorably awkward. "So, bye."
"Goodbye, Yixing." Minseok ends the call and turns back to his painting. His head is exploding with the colors, with the story, and his smile is threatening to split his face. He dunks his hands back into the paint, and continues, humming all the while.
April 6, 2019 - Saturday
Minseok can't say he's surprised when Luhan all but throws his door open when he barges into his apartment at a quarter past six in the evening. Minseok is still in his paint-splattered sweatpants, his shirt angrily discarded from when it had accidentally brushed up against the accents of black Minseok had been adding to the shadow of a decayed hand clenched around a working clock. The charcoal had smeared easily, and nearly spread into the white of the clock face. Minseok had been angry at the near ruin of this work, commissioned from the woman who bought his An End of Paradise.
"Minseok!" Luhan shouts, voice loud as if he wasn't only an apartment's width away. Minseok doesn't turn around, his thumb carefully swiping the black into the crease of the hand's palm.
"Hello, Luhan," he greets calmly. Luhan bounds over to him, a clothes bag with Macy's stamped on it hung over his shoulder. "What brings you here?" Minseok dabs his gummy eraser against a shadow, lightening it.
"I have clothes," he says, wriggling the bag a bit behind his back. "Since I know for a fact you do not have a single pair of nice pants anymore."
"Yixing told you," Minseok responds blandly, his focus still on the shadows of his charcoal.
"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
Minseok draws another careful line, his hand lifted from the paper so as not to smear the drawing while he creates the spinning clock hands.
"Almost ruined this one," he says. Luhan laughs loudly.
"So you threw it off," he cackles, "You're hilarious." Minseok sets down his charcoal, standing carefully and wiping his black-stained hands against his pants.
"Yes, yes," he says, "Are you going to dress me?" Luhan nearly twinkles in his glee. He gives Minseok's bare chest an approving once over, shaking his head at the black smudges across his stomach.
"First, a shower, I think," Luhan orders, "And then yes. Clothes." He shakes the bag again for emphasis. Minseok throws up his hands in exasperation but allows his best friend to walk him into his bathroom and force him to clean up.
"He's already seen me with paint on my face," Minseok calls out from underneath the shower spray, "why do I need to put in this much effort?"
"I can't believe you went out in public like that," Luhan shouts back, "You're an embarrassment."
Minseok simply laughs. Yixing had asked him out anyway, so he supposes Luhan's empty jabs are just that - empty. He rinses last of the soap from his body and steps out. Luhan nearly hits him in the face with a towel, and Minseok snaps it at his friend in retaliation.
"Truce!" Luhan yelps. Minseok just cackles. He towels off, rubbing at his hair. Luhan gives him a small sigh.
"What?" He asks. Luhan tells him he's proud Minseok managed to get his roots done. Minseok rolls his eyes, reminding his best friend that he did just have an exhibit not long ago. Luhan only takes this reminder as a chance to order Minseok to pay for the clothes he bought him. He guides Minseok out to the artist's bedroom where he's laid out the new outfit on the bed. Minseok stares at it for a long moment, before he pats Luhan roughly on the shoulder.
"You did good, man," he praises. He grabs out his underwear, shamelessly dropping his towel. It's nothing Luhan hasn't seen anyway- they've been best friends for far too long.
"Don't I usually?" Luhan scoffs, "Nice ass, by the way." Minseok snorts at him, pulling on his pants.
"You're only saying that because you picked out these jeans," he accuses. Luhan shrugs.
"Guilty as charged," he admits. Minseok pulls on the white undershirt, and drops the sweater, a deep forest green (he can practically hears the Macy's salesperson explaining how the color will bring out his hair and eyes to Luhan) over his head. It's soft, and Minseok makes a mental tip to get Luhan the new cleats he'd been raving about. He slips on brown loafers, and allows Luhan to advance on him with gel in his hands.
"You look good, kid," Luhan says once steps back. Minseok rolls his eyes.
"I'm older than you," he says. Luhan shoves at him with an elbow, carefully avoiding getting the rest of gel on his hands on Minseok's clothes.
"Go wash your hands," he orders. Luhan chirps out an obnoxious 'sir, yes, sir', but dutifully listens. Minseok moves over to his dresser, snatching up his watch and placing it over his wrist. The clock face blinks 6:45 p..m. at Minseok, who looks at Luhan, shaking out his wrist.
Luhan gets the message, sighing dramatically.
"Ok, honey, I'm leaving!" He calls out, stepping back into his shoes. Minseok opens his door, practically throwing Luhan out. "I expect to hear all about it!"
"Go home, Luke," Minseok says. Luhan smiles and heads down the hallway. Minseok steals himself ahead of time- there's no way he'll get out of withholding anything from Luhan come their Wednesday coffee date.
The artist closes the door, leaning against it and breathing for just a minute. He's a nervous, he can't remember the last time he went out on a date. His buzzer goes off.
"Yes?" Minseok says into the speaker by his door.
"Mr. Kim," the receptionist tells him, "I have Ryan here for you."
Relief in the form of amusement floods Minseok's system. "Tell him I'll be right down." Minseok checks his reflection one last time, adjusting the neck of his sweater (Luhan really did do a good job this time) before heading out the door.
When he exits the elevator, his vision explodes with navy and gray, soothing colors that relax him as he steps up to Yixing. The man smiles, and orange bursts against the calm backdrop.
"You look nice," Yixing greets, the perfect gentleman. Minseok will be damned if he admits he swooned, but he did.
"You too," he responds, and it's true. The navy blazer set across his broad shoulders is so close the Dress Blues Minseok might have fantasized about that his mind is set reeling. He can't even be bothered to hide the color rising on his face.
"Our carriage awaits," Yixing says, his voice dropped low and joking, gesturing toward the cabs outside. Minseok laughs and allows himself to be led out the doors, into a cab, and (after a few blocks of heavy night traffic) through the doors of a swanky bar and restaurant called Hook. Minseok's first impression of the place is "rich kid club," but as Yixing leads him upstairs, his attitude soon changes to delight at the sight of the restaurant with its cool colors and warm lighting. The rich navy and green of the upholstery fill his vision, and he's drawn to the image in his mind of two hands linked over dew-wet grass, a string of sapphire tangled in their fingers. The gold is low-lighted with orange that sparkles in the dew drops.
"Follow me this way," the maitre d' interrupts Minseok's thoughts; he jolts a little. Yixing gives him a curious look at they sit, thanking the maitre d' for the menus.
"Are you alright?" He asks, "You seemed a little out of it over there." He waves his hand in the general direction of the hostess' table.
"Yes," Minseok answers, "I just" -was thinking about you- "had an idea for a painting."
"Ah," Yixing murmurs. Then he smiles, "Is this a common thing with you? Spacing out?" Minseok shakes his head, laughing slightly.
"Umm, no, not really," he says, "Though Luhan might tell you otherwise."
"Hmm," Yixing muses, "Luhan tells me a lot of things. I've learned not to listen."
"Wise choice," Minseok comments just as their waitress comes up.
"Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?" She asks, voice polite but a slight wrinkle to her nose that displays her uncertainty at her new job. Minseok makes a note to give her an little extra tip. Yixing jumps, grabbing for the wine list. Minseok snatches it out of his hands, and the two stare at each other.
"I'll pick," Minseok insists, "Since you don't know wine." He turns to the waitress, ignoring Yixing's indignant exclamation.
"The Pinot Gris, please," he requests. "And water." The waitress nods and walks off, tucking her notepad back into her apron. He glances at Yixing.
"Order something light- fish or something," he suggests, picking up his menu. Yixing just nods, a little wide eyed and clearly not a wine connoisseur. The conversation doesn't quite pick back up then, the two of them reading their menus quietly. Minseok glances at it half-heartedly, choosing a couple possibilities while he thinks of something to say. It's not until after their waitress has come back and taken their selections to the kitchens that Minseok manages to attempt to break the silence, only for Yixing to beat him to it.
"Did I offend you?" He asks, the question completely off-track from any words Minseok had been expecting or managed to come up with ("So...do you like...have a gun?"). Minseok shakes him head in confusion, and Yixing coughs a bit awkwardly.
"I mean at your exhibit," he clarifies, color dusting his cheekbones, "When I said I didn't like your painting." Minseok jolts back, remembering his embarrassment of someone hating something he'd created, the itch to paint something else clinging to him like a parasite.
"No," he answers honestly. "I was unsure about my work for the rest of the night though." He doesn't mention the painting with the dominant purple hues resting under a sheet in his living room turned work room.
Yixing laughs, taking a mouthful of his drink to give his hands something to do. Minseok watches him swallow, following the bob of his adam's apple with hungry eyes.
"You're work is amazing," Yixing says, "Truly. I mean, I'm a big fan. It's just that that one, Bliss, it seemed- cynical?" He takes a sip of his wine, licking his lips thoughtfully. "I want to know what made you that way?"
"It's a bit of a heavy story," Minseok warns, keeping his tone light, "I'm not sure if that's first date material."
Yixing shrugs, "I've never fancied small talk."
"Fancied," Minseok repeats. He takes a mouthful of liquid courage, and breathes. "My parents are divorced now -I was sixteen at the time- and I just remember them before that." He watches Yixing's face carefully, but the Captain shows nothing but support. There's no trace of pity on his face. "Before the divorce, my parents were so in love. I remember them always happiest together. But, uh, then, my dad found out my mom had been sleeping with another man and all of a sudden...everything was horrible."
"Minseok," Yixing starts, his hand reaching across the table. Minseok takes it and squeezes once.
"It's just something like that reaffirms the idea that ignorance is bliss, you know?" He sighs. "But I'm fine now."
"Are you?" Yixing asks. Minseok doesn't answer; he doesn't have to. Yixing, as a soldier, understands that some losses have to just be put behind a person, even if the wounds are still fresh.
A waiter, two dishes in hand, pops up next to them. He sets the food down, and Minseok and Yixing say their thank you's before digging in. The food provides a pleasant distraction, the two of them sharing pieces of their meals with each other and arguing over which dessert to pick. When Yixing snatches the bill from Minseok, the artist has to hide how much that pleases him.
As the two of them exit the restaurant, Yixing casually slips his fingers through Minseok's, and Minseok internally decides he will accept a goodnight kiss from the Captain. They chat and smile all the way back until Minseok's complex looms above them.
"This is my building," Minseok says, gesturing. Yixing doesn't move to walk in with him, but he doesn't loosen his hold on Minseok's hand either.
"Minseok," Yixing murmurs, "I have a confession." Something in Minseok seizes, his leftover nervousness of being on a first date coming up to his throat. He coughs in an attempt to clear it.
"Ok?" He says. Yixing smiles, and in the twitch at the corner of his lips, Minseok can see his is a bit nervous too.
"I actually asked you out tonight for a very specific reason," Yixing admits. Minseok's brows furrow. Yixing lifts his hand as if to smooth out the creases, but decides it's too much too soon and drops it back to his side. He evenly meets Minseok's eyes.
"I asked you to dinner tonight in order to ask you to have dinner with me on Friday."
Minseok's mouth drops open as the tension flees from him. Then he laughs, running his free hand through his hair.
"You're asking me out again?" He asks, relieved and slightly elated.
"Well, technically, I asked you out in order to ask you out again..." Yixing says, a bit sheepish. Minseok squeezes his hand.
"Of course I'd love to," he says. He hopes his bright smile isn't scrunching his face up unattractively how Luhan's has a tendency to. Yixing's own face is split in a genuine grin, his pleased aura warming Minseok's heart. He leans in and ever so carefully presses his lips to Minseok's cheek.
"I'll call you then," he says. He releases Minseok's hand and waves.
"Ok, goodnight," Minseok barely manages to whisper. Yixing smiles and turns, walking away. Frozen in place, heart beat a little too quick, Minseok relives the feeling of Yixing's lips against his cheek. He sees the moment in gray water color on 130 pound paper, blue at their feet and yellow streetlamps reflecting in their eyes.
The blush hasn't receded from his face when he turns on his workspace lights and begins to sketch the image stuck in his mind.
April 12, 2019 - Friday
Minseok had been both thoroughly thrilled and thoroughly disappointed by the simple kiss on the cheek as their parting the last date. He'd wanted more, but he appreciated the slow pace. It feels like a dream- one he is still chasing.
The second date, another dinner, is just as nerve-wracking for Minseok, who finds himself constantly distracted by Yixing's general goodness. He's very noble, very authoritative, and constantly polite. Minseok attributes that to his military service, but he knows that some of Yixing's other traits (his respect for Minseok ranking at the top of the list) can't have been learned on a battlefield. Minseok finds his thoughts constantly edging on dangerous territory where he considers how much he really could fall for Yixing.
Dinner had been a simple affair at a small hole-in-the-wall kind of place in the older area of downtown. A local band had been playing, and Minseok had enjoyed listening to the blues accompanied by his and Yixing's conversation. Afterwards, they'd walked to Minseok's apartment building. Yixing had walked in this time, but stopped at the elevator.
"Are you not coming up?" Minseok asks, fingers hovering over the up arrow.
"No," Yixing says, "I actually have something to ask you." A slight sense of deja vu pings in Minseok's brain.
"Ok?" He says tentatively. Yixing grabs both of his hands, facing him square on.
"I asked you out tonight in order to ask you to go out with me next Friday," he says, "So will you?" Minseok breaks out into loud laughs that garner a few stares, but Yixing doesn't let go of his hands, doesn't flinch, doesn't look away from him.
"This sounds awfully familiar to an old story they told me in church," Minseok says, still laughing.
"Esther is basically the original romance," Yixing argues, unabashed.
"Didn't she risk her life to ask the king out the first time?" Minseok argues, squinting suspiciously at Yixing.
"I got blown up by a grenade," the Captain offers. Minseok feels simultaneously heart-broken and amused. He agrees to go out with Yixing again. The Captain smiles, and leans in again.
For one moment of frozen time, Minseok sees the golds and purples of a king and queen embracing each other, his yearning for Yixing to kiss him a bright slash of darkly colored lust across the picture. Yixing's lips find his cheek, a warm orange of childlike innocence. Minseok makes the slightest, pitiful whine that he immediately flushes for making. Yixing smirks.
"I'll see you on Friday, my king."
April 17, 2019 - Wednesday
"You seem awfully invested in our relationship," Minseok says, narrowing his eyes playfully at his best friend across the small table in Cups. Luhan flails his hands around in true drama queen fashion.
"Of course I am! I need this to work out!" He says, "I'm desperate and living vicariously through you!" Minseok reaches out and pets Luhan's hair to let it lay comfortably across his forehead.
"Don't worry, Hannie," he says, "Some young thing is coming to steal you away." Luhan pouts. With his hair down and lower lip sticking out, he looks all of eighteen years old instead of his twenty-eight.
"I hate you sometimes," he says. Minseok simply laughs, his vision exploding with pale yellow and rainbow colors- the palate he associates with Luhan's happiness.
"What do we hate Minseok for?" Yixing's voice says behind them, coming up with three coffees for them. Luhan immediately launches into an incorrect rendition of the past few minutes, claiming Minseok was calling him a cradle robber. Yixing nods along seriously, wrapping his arms around Minseok's waist. Minseok sees forest green and navy blue mixed with a bright explosion of orange- the colors he associates with happiness, the colors he associates with Yixing.
"Well, Lu-ge," Yixing says, slipping his hand easily into Minseok's, "You'll be pleased to know we're going out again on Friday." Luhan will never admit that he squealed at the news, but Minseok will also never let him live it down.
April 26, 2019 - Friday
Due to an unexpected doctor's appointment to check on a rather persistent bruise on Yixing's back (Minseok and Luhan had all but dragged Yixing to the doctor after he first complained),their date had to be postponed another week, but it didn't lessen Minseok's excitement for the outing.
Despite dinner being another casual affair of conversation and good food, Minseok enjoyed the familiarity and the comfort of Yixing's presence. When they step out of the restaurant, Minseok is not expecting Yixing to grab him and pull him in the opposite direction of his apartment.
"Where are we going?" Minseok asks, trying his hardest not to trip over his own feet with the sudden change in direction.
"I thought of something to do with you," Yixing explains. Minseok perks up, excited at the prospect.
"What is it?" He asks. Yixing doesn't answer, merely sending Minseok a secretive smile. Minseok continues following behind him, glancing every so often at the streets as the pass them. They come to a halt in front of an old warehouse that Minseok is well-aware of. It's owned by a family who rents the space out to performers and for Youth Group functions. All the old locks have been broken off, but one small school-grade lock holds together the chain around the doors.
"How are you planning to get in there, exactly?" Minseok asks. Yixing lets go of his hand, picking up the lock and spinning it.
"I set this up this afternoon. Luhan helped." The lock opens and Yixing sticks it in his pocket, pulling the chain off pulling the door stops up. "Help me?" He requests. Together, Yixing and Minseok open the warehouse doors. Inside, large canvas sheets and buckets and buckets of paint are set hanging from the walls or strewn across the floor.
"What?" Minseok asks, but he's already distracted. The blank canvas, the smell of paint, it calls to him, and he's itching to create.
"I've never seen you paint," Yixing explains, "and if I've learned anything about you, it's that you like to be a perfectionist and not ruin any of your materials."
"Those things are expensive!" Minseok argues, swatting at Yixing's shoulder. The Captain snatches his hand out of the air and leads him to the buckets of paint on the ground. Most of them are miss-mixed paints, sold in underpriced pints and quarts.
"These weren't," Yixing argues. He picks one up and pops open the lid. "So here's what we're going to do." He dunks his hand into the paint, walks a little closer to a canvas covered wall, and lobs the glob of silvery-gray at it.
The paint splatters, specks of it flying back and hitting Yixing's cheek. Minseok stares wide-eyed for a moment before he bursts out in laughter, grabbing his own can and his own handful of paint and throwing a horrid green with too much yellow as an undertone at Yixing's silver paint splatter. The two colors spread and mix, dripping down the canvas.
"It needs some blue, I think," Yixing says. He grabs out some aqua paint and flings it off his fingers in a circle. He grabs another handful and spins with it, the color flying around him, landing everywhere-
-even on Minseok.
Minseok gasps, and Yixing smirks at him, gesturing at his own chest.
"Come on," he taunts, "give it your best shot." And Minseok has always had a wonderful throwing arm, so he grabs up some pink from the assorted colors and throws it. Yixing side-steps only to get hit with the second handful.
"Oh," he breathes, a pretend angry scowl on his face, "This means war." It's a relentless war, the two of them throwing paint at each other and at the walls, decorating the place in mess and fun. Minseok laughs at Yixing attempting to spit some paint out of his mouth, and Yixing tackles Minseok to the ground. The paint on their shirts sticks together and smears all over their arms.
They both look atrocious, covered in puke green and candy pinks, but their smiles are beautiful.
"Some artist you are," Yixing says, attempting to peel his shirt from his chest, "This is hideous." He's right, but Minseok thinks it just makes Yixing's beauty stand out more. He can see him against a plain background, desert sand and yellow sky highlighting his hair and shining bits of gray into his warm eyes.
The paint settles around them, coated on their skin and colored in their hair, the rustle of the canvas quieting. Minseok looks directly at Yixing who's panting, joy lit up in his eyes. The Captain takes a step forward, his hand lifting to Minseok's cheek.
"Don't turn away," he pleads, and Minseok doesn't- he couldn't. He's wanted this since the first date. Yixing leans in, his head angled carefully. Their noses bump gently, and Minseok finally snaps out of his frozen state and tilts his head.
Colors explode behind Minseok's closed eyelids, gold and orange dancing in bright sparks over deep navy water where the waves crash against the rocks. The silhouettes of two lovers sparkle under turquoise water droplets flung into the dying sun.
Minseok's arms wrap around Yixing's shoulders, pulling himself closer to the other man. The kiss is long and heartfelt, their lips barely moving, the two of them breathing through their noses. It's Yixing who breaks away, pressing another kiss to Minseok's cheek.
Very slow, voice pitched so low and soft that Minseok's heart races just from the intimacy of it, Yixing whispers, "I asked you here for one reason." Minseok already knows what he's going to say, his smile already answers Yixing's question, but he waits for him to articulate it anyway.
"Will you be my date for the Banquet of Honors?"
"Is this your endgame?" Minseok asks, arms still around Yixing's neck. The man smiles slyly, and Minseok's stomach twists with the idea of more to come. He agrees with another kiss pressed to Yixing's mouth, stealing a gasp from the Captain and hiding it away for himself.
next →
Pairing(s): Minseok/Yixing, slight!Luhan/Joonmyun, slight!Luhan/Yixing, ninja!Luhan/Sehun
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: character death, language
Word count: 17,886
Summary: "Isn't is better to have loved than lost?" Yixing asks, looking back at the painting. Minseok shakes his head. "No. Then there's no holes to fill."
January 23, 2019 - Wednesday
Minseok's phone rings just as he reaches his destination. He pulls it out of his pocket with cold fingers to read the caller's name. He sighs when he sees it's just his floor manager for his new exhibit. He had told the guy he wouldn't be available even for emergencies; he's taking this Wednesday to put his best friend first. He presses reject on the display and drops the phone back in his pocket.
Minseok shakes the snow from his hair as he steps into Cups, his traditional Wednesday meeting place with his best friend. He glances around, searching for whatever table Luhan had chosen to park himself and two mugs of black coffee. In their college days, the two had been coffee enthusiasts. After Luhan's ex-girlfriend broke up with him by throwing a pot of just brewed coffee at him, he developed a dislike for the stuff. He still had a burn scar on his collarbone to show for it. However, the habit of visiting the coffee shop every Wednesday hadn't quite died.
Minseok journeys toward the back of the shop where the warmth from the fireplace is almost too hot. Luhan and he have always been a cold-blooded pair. Sure enough, sitting laid back in one of the arm chairs with a steaming cup of joe in front of him is his best friend. He's thrown his jacket over the armchair to his right to reserve the seat for Minseok. Unexpectedly, there are three mugs of coffee already on the table, and Luhan's already chatting with a person to his left. Minseok blinks a few times, shrugs out of his jacket, and hurries forward to claim his seat.
The guy talking to Luhan pauses mid-sentence, the slur of Mandarin cutting out in favor of Luhan's bright English greeting.
"Hey, Minseok," he says, slight Chinese accent showing. Minseok smiles at him.
"Feels good to hear that name," he says. "How've you been, Lu?"
"What? Getting tired of Mitch already?" He laughs, "I'm good, man. Been good." He grabs Minseok in a one-armed hug, gripping him carefully around the neck as he maneuvers around the coffee table to stand at Minseok's side. "You? Why'd you bail the past two weeks?"
Minseok shrugs. "I've been caught up. Sometimes the urge to create just hits me, you know?" Luhan nods along like he didn't drop out of advertising (a creative major) to major in accounting (a decidedly boring major). Minseok gestures towards the guy his best friend had been talking to. "And uh- who's this?"
"Ah, Minseok," Luhan says, putting on a bit of his business voice. Minseok raises one suspicious eyebrow in his direction. "This is Zhang Yixing. He's my first friend after I moved State-side. He's Chinese too, if the name didn't give it away. Yixing, this is my best masterpiece." Yixing gives Luhan an unimpressed glance before Luhan remembers to finish the introduction. "I call it Minseok." Minseok gives his best friend a playful shove.
"Minseok?" Yixing looks confused. It's adorable. "That's not Chinese."
"Korean," Minseok offers. "Second generation immigrant. My parents just couldn't bear to give me an American name. I change it every so often. Currently, as Luhan demonstrated, I'm going by Mitch." His best friend snorts. Minseok fixes him with a glare.
"Are you judging me, Hans?"
This time it's Yixing who snorts. "That's a new one, Lu-ge," he says. "Choose that after you got out of college?" Luhan moans pitifully, clutching his heart. Yixing slaps his shoulder good-naturedly, telling him without words to answer the question.
"Originally I wanted to go by Hans went I got back here," Luhan whispers, side-eyeing Minseok who had been there for the Lucas stage in college and the Hans phase upon graduation. "But then some Disney movie came out. What was it?"
"Frozen," Minseok laughs, clutching his stomach. "The evil prince was called Hans. Luhan thought it'd scare away 'the ladies'." He makes air quotes around the last phrase. It's Yixing's turn to bring out the side-eye at this comment.
"Luhan, you're gay," he says. Luhan sputters.
"Bisexual!" He argues, pointing at the scar peeking through the collar of his shirt. Yixing simply rolls his eyes.
"Ok then," he says, voice mocking as he acquiesces, "Bisexual with a very strong and overwhelming preference for dick."
Luhan glowers. "Takes one to know one," he mutters. Minseok catches on to this comment. Yixing must have noticed his slight change in posture and quickly backtracks.
"S-sorry," he stutters, "Uh, I-"
"It's cool," Minseok says simply, forcibly relaxing his posture. It seems he's somehow made Yixing uncomfortable. Luhan is busy giggling madly next to them. "And what do you tell the common American to call you, Yixing?"
"Well there's nothing close to Yixing, so I go by Ryan," Yixing shrugs. Minseok laughs.
"Ryan?" He says. "Like, Saving Private Ryan?"
"Yeah man," Yixing says, almost appearing offended. "I used to idolize that movie. Don't judge."
Minseok holds up his hands. "I'm not, I'm not. Just. Ryan."
"Whatever you say, Mitch," Yixing throws back.
"Minseok," Minseok corrects, "I prefer Minseok." He holds out his hand. Yixing stands and grabs his hand, giving it a firm shake.
"Yixing then," he says. "It's nice to meet you." Minseok smiles an agreement. He pointedly ignores the glimmer in Luhan's eyes as the three men seat themselves. After their lengthy introductions, they dissolve into small talk. It's boring, but pleasant, and Minseok feels himself letting all the stress from the past weeks flowing out of him as he sips at the coffee Luhan had bought him. Looking back, Minseok doesn't remember much of the conversation, but he does remember noticing the dimple poking into Yixing's right cheek every time he smiles. It's only when Luhan's re-telling his tale about tearing his ACL in college that anything interesting crops up in the conversation.
"-and it hurt like a bitch for weeks after," Luhan's saying, "of course, that's nothing compared to Yixing's injury."
Minseok glances at the Chinese man, "You're injured?"
Luhan leans over to Minseok, hand on the Korean man's shoulder to balance himself. "My poor baby Yixing. Injured in the line of duty. The sorrow." Despite his teasing words, Luhan does show legitimate concern for his childhood friend.
"So you're on medical leave?" Minseok asks.
Luhan nods, patting his childhood friend's knee. "Ah, Captain Zhang, do share what you got did to yourself."
Yixing shakes his head. "Lu-ge, please. If you're going to speak English, at least use correct English." Luhan sneers at him.
"Fucker."
"Captain?" Minseok interrupts. "Army? Air Force?"
"Navy, actually." Minseok can't stop the impressed whistle that leaves his lips.
"How in the world did you get that promotion when you're..."
"Twenty-seven?" Yixing rolls his shoulders back, wincing. He takes a moment to breathe. "Work hard and get beat up enough times and next thing you know you could be President."
Luhan gasps and reels back dramatically. "Don't tell me we elected President Davis because we pity him?"
Minseok glances at Yixing, unsure if his next comment is correct in the face of someone taking orders from the man in office. "You've gotta admit though, Davis' past in the military makes him a good Commander-in-Chief in the face of war."
Yixing snorts. "There are times to fight and times to step back and look at the bigger picture. At this point I think we are too far in to pull back and avoid disaster."
"Sounds like a forewarning," Minseok comments idly, finishing his own coffee and reaching for Luhan's.
"Maybe," the Navy Captain says, "but enough of us are out on medical leave at the moment that it seems more like a prophecy."
Luhan jerks up and points a finger in Yixing's face. "Alright Private Ryan, tell us what you're out for." Minseok leans forward a bit, his interest plain on his face. Yixing shoves his childhood friend's hand away from his face.
"Grenade," he mutters. "It was stupid. Grenades aren't what get you - it's the shrapnel. Nearly died from the blood loss. Tore up my back and arms. I don't even know how many stitches I've got holding me together." He sighs, tugging on the sleeves on his jacket. "Happened two months ago in November." Minseok suddenly remembers the looks of pain that had crossed Yixing's face as he'd stood to greet him, as he'd sat down, and as he stretched forward.
"When do you go back?" Minseok wonders.
"October," Yixing answers at the same time as Luhan says "one year."
"Ah," Minseok says, at a loss for words. He opens his mouth to say something else when DBSK's Mirotic blasts from Luhan's phone. The man pulls it from his pocket, answering quickly. He switches to Mandarin seamlessly, and Minseok feels hopelessly lost while Yixing nods along. He gives him a questioning stare.
"His mother," Yixing mouths. He glances at his own phone. "We were supposed to meet her half an hour ago." Minseok's eyebrows furrow.
"How late is it?" He asks. Luhan hangs up, turning to his best friend quickly.
"It's already one!" He says, eyes widened a bit in panic. His mother has always been one to stress punctuality. "We gotta go." He reaches out a hand to help Yixing up before grapping Minseok up in a hug.
"I'll see you next week, ok?" Minseok nods; Luhan smiles. He still looks ugly when he smiles. "Great!" He issues what Minseok assumes to be "hurry" to Yixing. The other Chinese man smiles apologetically. His smile is much nicer.
"It was nice meeting you," he says, "I'd bow but."
"It's ok," Minseok says, "Maybe I'll see you later."
"Sure." And then Yixing and Luhan are gone, winding their way out of Cups and out to Luhan's car. Minseok checks his own watch, sees the hands hovering over 1:02. It's then that he remembers the he's meeting with the manager of his gallery to discuss the final touches and the centerpiece at two o'clock. He still needs to shower and change. Within the next breath, Minseok too is out the door.
January 29, 2019 - Tuesday
The next time Minseok sees Yixing is at the Laundromat when Minseok's scowling unattractively at a stain on his last pair of nice khakis.
"What'd those pants ever do to you?" Is Yixing's pleasant greeting. Minseok jumps, his hands coming up instinctively to guard his face. His ruined pants fall to the ground. Yixing laughs.
"Whoa, sorry," he says, "I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine," Minseok says immediately, feeling color flood his face at his extreme reaction to Luhan's friend. "I was just startled." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly and shrugs. "I suppose I was a bit focused."
"On a pair of pants," Yixing points out, his tone teasing, "are you mad at the pants?"
"It's not the pants, but the paint stained on them that I'm mad at," Minseok answers honestly. He looks down at the khakis now sitting on his shoe and continues his grumbling, ignoring the knit brows on Yixing's face.
"How'd you get paint on them?" Yixing asks. Minseok kicks his foot up, snatching his pants out of midair. He stares one more time at the stain on the crotch before he moves to throw them in the trash. He'll go shopping for new ones later.
"I knocked into the counter with my brush in hand. If fell onto my outfit for a meeting earlier today." Minseok gestures as the nearly full washing machine in front of him. "Figured it's as good of an excuse as any to finally do my laundry." He turns around then to face the dryer behind him. The "done" light is blinking slowly, and Minseok opens the door to start meticulously folding the clean clothes.
"Sure, makes sense to me," Yixing says casually. Minseok pauses in his folding.
"I don't think I've ever talked about laundry for so long before," he muses.
"Is it boring?" Yixing asks him, throwing his clothes into a washing machine. Minseok doesn't answer for a few minutes, folding another couple of shirts and listening to the beeps of the washing machine the other man is starting up. When he does answer, he surprises himself at the response.
"No," he says, "It's comfortable." Yixing smiles then, and Minseok finds his eyes drawn to his dimple. They don't speak for awhile, but they do sit side by side in the plastic chairs at the Laundromat. Yixing bobs his head gently to the music Minseok can just faintly hear coming from his headphones. He busies himself with his email, answering anything dealing with his exhibit first.
When the timer on his washer beeps, Minseok startles. Yixing glances at him oddly before he realizes that his washer is also beeping a happy "finished!" at him.
"You only have one load?" Yixing looks down at his single empty bag as he transfers wet clothes to the dryer.
"Yeah," he says, "I kind of grew out of my old ones after joining the navy, and since then I haven't worn much but a uniform with the war going on." Minseok nods as if he understands, but he doesn't. Yixing's pointed look at Minseok's three bags of clothes gives him away.
"I have a lot of clothes for work," Minseok amends, starting up the dryer. He casually passes Yixing his last quarter that he doesn't need when he sees the confused look on the Captain's face as he stares at his handful of three quarters. Yixing thanks him. "But all of them are kind of shabby."
"Shabby," Yixing repeats, "For work?" Minseok nods and scratches absently at a streak of green on the back of his hand. Yixing notices, raising an eyebrow. "What do you do?"
"I paint," Minseok supplies, "I, uh- never could figure out anything I wanted to do. I liked analyzing paintings in English classes and always thought of other pictures that would be cool to analyze. At one point I took an art class and-" He cuts himself off abruptly, noticing Yixing's calm expression. "Sorry. You didn't ask for all that."
Yixing smiles, leaning on his selected dryer and maintaining eye contact with Minseok. "No, keep going. I find it fascinating. I'm just used to keeping a neutral expression during briefings or when listening to my men talk."
"Ah, well," Minseok continues slowly, clearing this throat and forcing himself not to blush. Every reference Yixing makes to his days in the military has him picturing the Chinese man in uniform.
Really, there is nothing sexier than a man in uniform.
"I took an art class, and I guess I had talent for it," he says, "I just never stopped painting. Then some lady bought one of my pieces for way more than it was worth. Painter sort of...became my career."
"How does that work?" Yixing asks. He checks his watch and looks at the timer on the dryer. He mouths the two numbers. He looks up with his tongue stuck between his lips as he thinks through the math. It's cute.
"Umm," Minseok says, momentarily distracted. Yixing gives him a wide-eyed look.
"Or it doesn't? And you're a starving artist?" He rambles. "Sorry, I didn't think-"
"No, no, I...was distracted," Minseok assures. He lays a comforting hand on Yixing's shoulder. The muscle shifts under his touch. "I usually put up exhibits of my work and invite critiques and collectors to come see it. At the end of the exhibit, I'll host an auction. Selling one or two paintings usually covers the cost of the building and the people I hire to run the exhibit and auction. After that's paid, the rest of the money is mine."
Yixing looks nothing short of amazed. "And...are you successful?" He asks it quietly, as if afraid of offending Minseok. He often seems afraid of offending him. In answer, Minseok pulls out his phone and opens his Gallery, flipping to the previews of the work from his last couple of exhibits. Yixing gasps, pointing at one photo.
It's a picture of a hand nestled in slowly dying grass. The fingers are curled around a bitten apple, and a snake is wrapped around the arm of the unseen person, it's forked tongue flicking out to lick the apple.
"That's An End of Paradise, isn't it?" Yixing says. "I know that one. Some guy with a Chinese name- Xiumin, I think- made it."
"Yeah," Minseok says, "Xiumin. That's me."
"Oh," Yixing murmurs, his hand out as if he wants to touch the phone's screen. "Oh. I had no idea. Luhan said you were an artist but he didn't- Xiumin. Wow."
Minseok can't stop the blush that crawls up his neck. "Ah, thanks."
"I'm serious," Yixing continues, "My parents always send me postcards with your paintings on the backs. I really loved your work." Minseok expresses his gratitude again, choosing not to comment on the past tense verb. He wonders if Yixing no longer likes his paintings. A horrible sick feeling of needing to be better strikes him in the gut. Minseok squashes it, choosing to wait out the remaining minutes until his clothes are dried making only the occasional comment to Yixing. He answers a call from his floor manager, shrugging apologetically at Yixing who shakes his head. It's after Minseok has ended the call, saying he has errands to run, that Yixing gives him that same straight faced look with curiosity visible in his eyes.
"Where are you off to?" Yixing asks conversationally. Minseok jerks his thumb back towards the garbage.
"I suppose I need to go shopping for new khakis," he laughs, "And probably get a suit while I'm at it. Need to look good to sell my stuff."
"I'm sure you look great in everything," Yixing comments casually, resting his hand on Minseok's shoulder. Minseok tenses, his head jerking up to stare at Yixing's face. He knows his own displays shock and uncertainty. In an instant, Yixing's hand is gone from his shoulder, and he's stuttering out apologies.
"I'm sorry, really," he starts, "don't think anything bad of me, alright? I just can't help myself from a little flirting sometimes, you know? I've been on the battlefield for too long, and I forget the standard of societal norm sometimes. Besides, Luhan said you were gay, but then again you know Luhan. He can't be trusted most of the time, so I wasn't sure. I don't want to freak you out-"
"Yixing," Minseok interrupts him, his mouth moving slowly over the other man's name, "I am gay."
For the second time in the conversation, Yixing repeats, "Oh. Oh."
"Yeah," Minseok says, "So." The air between them becomes awkward after Minseok's confession, the two of them hovering around each other without an idea of how to break the ice. The dryers do it for the both of them, beeping one after the other. Minseok scurries to gather his clothes, shoving them in bags and not bothering to properly fold them.
"Well, I'll see you," Minseok says, hefting his laundry bags over his shoulders and fishing his car keys out of his coat pocket. He smiles with a bit of uncertainty, unsure of Yixing's reaction. He can practically feel the awkward tension between them prickling against his skin.
Then Yixing grins, and his dimple shows. Minseok feels relief crash through the weight in his chest. "You will," he promises. As Minseok walks away, his smile is very real and very difficult to erase.
February 8, 2019 - Friday
"Are you ready?" Joonmyun asks, the familiar syllables of Minseok's native language calm his nerves as he stands in front of the doors to open his exhibit.
"You're ready," Joonmyun assures, a gentle hand on Minseok's wrist. Minseok nods and cues his floor manager. Simultaneously, they swing the doors open, and Minseok is there, smiling to greet the line of well-dressed patrons. The handshakes are formal; the words simple and panegyric. It flies by Minseok in a blur. The words from art enthusiasts wax a little bit historical, comparing Minseok's style to Dali and Van Gogh (Minseok doesn't quite see it), and the words from critics are unnecessarily harsh but full of advice. The clueless comments from those who find art simply nice-to-look-at always give Minseok a small laugh, and the art collectors' stern but pleased eyes always give him the urge to continue painting.
Minseok is distracted with a conversation with one of his major collectors when Luhan and Yixing make an appearance. Somewhere behind him, he can hear Joonmyun introducing himself and giving them a quick rundown of the set-up of the exhibit. He hears Luhan giggle, and has to physically restrain himself from face-palming. Luhan is rather transparent with his affections and blatantly obvious with his objects of lust.
It seems Joonmyun falls into the latter category.
He bids goodbye to the collector, shaking her hand and complimenting her dress, before he turns around to watch Luhan coerce Joonmyun into giving him a private tour. He laughs, watching the two disappear with champagne and wine glasses in hand respectively. He turns back to where Yixing is standing. Their eyes meet. The Navy Captain moves smoothly toward him, a rented suit fitting elegantly over his shoulders.
"Hello, Xiumin," Yixing greets casually. Minseok nearly gapes at Yixing's nonchalance. It's too attractive on him, and Minseok's thoughts are dragged into a closet with his mouth occupied with the skin just above Yixing's collar. Yixing laughs then, a bright, sunny-day sound, and Minseok is drawn back to the here and now, standing in his exhibition with Yixing next to him.
"This is really cool," Yixing murmurs in awe, his eyes constantly darting around at the paintings on display. He takes a sip of his wine and winces at the taste.
"You don't like the wine?" Minseok asks, "What do you have? Cabernet? Merlot?"
Yixing looks utterly confused. Minseok holds out his hand impatiently, and Yixing passes him the glass. He takes a careful sip, savoring the flavor.
"Ah," he says, tapping his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "This is good. You don't like it?" He repeats the question. He's happy to finish Yixing's wine for him if it makes his nerves from talking to the Captain settle.
"Honestly, I just like a good beer," Yixing informs him. "Wine is...too pretentious for me."
Minseok gives him a teasing look, "Your taste buds are unrefined, my friend." Yixing looks horribly affronted, but the quirk in his lips belies his expression.
"Excuse you, I have wonderful taste," Yixing argues, "I came to your show, didn't I?"
Minseok passes him back his wine glass. "Come," he says, "I want your opinion on my centerpiece." He presses his hand to the small of Yixing's back, leading him toward the back of the hall where the lights emphasize the large painting that Minseok had completed only a few days ago. He guides him to stand directly in front of Minseok's centerpiece and take in the whole appeal of it.
"This is Bliss," Minseok introduces, gesturing towards the painting.
Bliss is a warm palette painting, filled with rich red and orange, the skin of the subject a gentle peach, the auburn hues of her hair painted with the brushstrokes of a waterfall. In her hands, a white rosebud is clasped, her face pointed towards a rainless sky with orange and yellow clouds, the sky itself a deep purple that fades in a gradient to the red pool that allows her dress to flow around her. She looks peaceful, happy, and blissful.
The white rosebud, a symbol of a heart ignorant of love glows brighter than the rest of the painting, casting exaggerated shadows on the girl's hands.
Minseok is quite proud of it.
It's a long moment few moments before Yixing speaks, but Minseok watches his face. He looks at the contours of his lips and the dips in his cheeks. He watches Yixing's eyes narrow and the contemplative way he bites at his lower lip. Minseok quickly glances at his own painting to forcefully stop his staring. Yixing takes a breath in to begin to speak, and Minseok's gaze snaps back to the Navy Captain.
"I don't like it," he says simply. Minseok swears he hears something crashing inside himself. He feels a bit angry, but accepts that harsh criticism is to be expected as an artist, even if he never expected to hear it from someone who is quickly becoming a close friend.
"Really?" Minseok asks. Yixing nods, rubbing his chin.
"Yeah," he answers, "It's really sad." He cocks his head to the side and thinks a little. "It's a bit pathetic." Minseok blinks.
"How?" He fights to the angry edge out of his voice, but he's not sure he succeeds. Yixing looks just as calm as ever as he turns to face him.
"I'm not saying the picture isn't good," he amends, "It's really well painted, but the message...I don't think this is bliss at all." He draws Minseok forward, a bit closer to the painting. This close, Minseok can see his brush strokes, watch where the warm oranges and purples almost bleed together to create the sad brown that Minseok streaked over with silver to create that ethereal edge.
"Isn't ignorance bliss?" Minseok says, "Like the adage."
Yixing gives him an odd look. "I don't think so. Not when talking about love anyway." Minseok makes a vague hand motion to ask Yixing to continue.
"With love, I think the adage "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" is more appropriate," Yixing explains, "To never have loved, it may be blissful from ignorance, but wouldn't it be lonely as well?" Minseok tries to come up with a response that doesn't sound immaturely defensive, but in the end says nothing.
"Ah," he articulates, swallowing thickly. Yixing looks apologetic, but Minseok is already rambling about how he chose the theme for this exhibit, focusing on the happiness and sadness of being alone. He keeps the conversation far away from his centerpiece, smiling brightly when Luhan returns with Joonmyun. Luhan looks a proud mess, and Joonmyun is impeccably dressed except for the swelling of his lips and the hickey peeking out of his collar.
Minseok hides his rude snicker behind a poor cough.
Joonmyun notices and flushes before checking his watch.
"It's nearly ten, and people have consumed enough alcohol to loosen their inhibitions"- Luhan inserts a laugh-snort hybrid here -"so shall we get to the auction?"
Minseok nods, passing Yixing and Luhan as he heads toward the stage. Luhan immediately starts whispering in rapid-fire Mandarin to Yixing who shakes his head with a worried look. Minseok stubbornly keeps his head forward, asking Joonmyun casually about his time with Luhan. The persistent blush on his cheeks is enough to keep Minseok mirthfully smirking through the entire auction process, going home with a couple hundred thousand dollars secured in his account.
As soon as the artist exits the exhibit space, Yixing's words come back to haunt him, nagging at him in the back of his mind.
February 9, 2019 - Saturday
It's past midnight when Minseok unlocks the door to his apartment after the exhibit. He pulls off his jacket and tosses it carelessly across the kitchen counter. He's a clean person, truly, but now his mind is stuck, continuously looping through a conversation he'd had just over five hours ago.
"To never have loved, it may be blissful from ignorance, but wouldn't it be lonely as well?"
Minseok kicks off his shoes and toes off his socks, nimble fingers already working at the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt. His sketchbook lies within sight on his drafting table. His eyes never leave the blank page that tempts him. The words he'd wanted to say back to Yixing, the words that seemed to childish in response echo after Yixing's comment.
"That's not the point. The idea is that love isn't necessary to have a fulfilled life."
Minseok grabs a pencil, flicking on the lights and sitting at his table. The graphite seems to lead him, the smooth lines building into something that isn't bliss, something deeper, something darker.
"It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Minseok squints, memory building the image of the person who will become the next subject of his next masterpiece. Black hair is shaded with purple highlights under a night with a dimly sketched broken moon. The color palate builds in his mind's eye, and Minseok can almost see the rough sketch becoming a grand canvas of a story told in one image.
With a sleepy smile and determined heart, Minseok goes to bed.
March 17, 2019 - Sunday
It's another month before Minseok sees Yixing again. His face has filled out a little more, and he no longer flinches every time he shifts his shoulders. This time, Minseok is leaning against the hood of his car with his arms crossed and jacket zipped up to his nose while waiting for the Chili's people to get him his To-Go.
"You look cold," a voice says from his left. Minseok jumps a little, his arms uncrossing and lips coming into view above his jacket collar as he turns on his heel. He almost rolls his eyes because of course it's Yixing waiting for his own Chili's To-Go. Of course it is.
"It's not exactly warm yet," Minseok answers, roaming a judging eye over Yixing's T-shirt and hoodie. He should definitely be cold, Minseok thinks. "And is saying "hello" as a greeting out of fashion now?"
Yixing laughs. "Hello," he throws in teasingly. Minseok responds in turn, rolling his eyes. Yixing's dimple it too cute.
"What'd you order?" He asks amicably. Minseok side-eyes him.
"Are you just the king of small talk?" He teases. Yixing flushes, his right hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. His shirt lifts, and Minseok is riveted by the sliver of toned skin the movement reveals.
"Sorry," Yixing says, "What would you like me to ask about?" Minseok pretends to think, pressing a finger to his lips. The conversation becomes fluid after that, the time spent waiting for their food passing in easy banter. Minseok feel comfortable, and judging by the relaxed slope of Yixing's shoulders, he is too.
It's after they've both stowed their food in their cars, that Yixing approaches Minseok with a twinge of nervousness in his demeanor. Minseok hardly notices: he'd been watching Yixing lean over to put his food in the passenger seat, his mind moving from the real image to a painted romanticism of Yixing.
"I think this random run-in pattern we've got going on isn't going to cut it," Yixing says. He holds something out to Minseok. It's his phone.
"Why do I need this?" The artist asks, his brain still swirling with broad shoulders covered with dress blues against an orange sunset that reflects off of white skin. He blinks.
Yixing suddenly looks unsure. "Umm, I'm asking for your number?" He shrugs as if it's no big thing, but his tensed smile and eyes that flicker just slightly to the right betray his nerves. Minseok can't stop his own smile, the lopsided one, from breaking out across his face.
"Oh, of course," he says. He takes the phone, carefully spelling out 'Mitchell Kim' into Yixing's address book. When he hands it back, the Captain glances at it, sighs, and deletes the name from the number. He replaces it with "Kim Minseok" and shows it to Minseok. The artist can't help the elation starting to bubble in his chest. He feels incredibly light.
"It's your real name, right?" Yixing asks. He types something very quickly into his phone. Only a few seconds later, Minseok feels his phone vibrate against his leg from his pocket. He pulls it out to see a new message from an unknown sender. He glances at Yixing who grins.
"You better save my number," he teases, miming punching something as a sort of threat. Minseok shakes his head and snorts, tapping the name "Private Ryan (Yixing)" into his contacts. Yixing sputters. It's unattractive, but Minseok thinks it's cute.
April 5, 2019 - Friday
Minseok is elbow deep in purple paint, some green streaked across his forehead when his phone rings. He sighs, stubbornly ignoring it and relaxing only when the ring stops. He reaches for a pale turquoise, dipping his fingers into it and staring at the purple already on his fingers that swirls off his hand to taint the color.
The phone rings again.
Minseok lets out a loud gurgle of annoyance, his careful, serene moment of painting ruined. He grabs a towel and wipes his hands clean enough to touch his phone. He swipes the screen.
"You interrupted my painting," he says by way of greeting. There's a cute laugh from the other end.
"Is 'hello' out of fashion now?" Yixing says. Minseok's eyes widen and he pulls his phone back from his ear to glance at the caller ID. Sure enough, Private Ryan (Yixing) is lit up on his screen.
Minseok coughs.
"I mean hello," Minseok amends. "How are you?" He sounds a bit breathless, and he hopes Yixing doesn't notice.
"I'm a little nervous," Yixing says. Minseok's face crumples into a confused expression. That was not on any list of expected answers.
"Uh, why?" Minseok asks. He can practically hear Yixing's dimpled smile.
"Because I'm going to do something a bit crazy, but I'm hoping you'll say yes," Yixing explains. Minseok thinks he sounds a little breathless too. He hears a nervous laugh, and his heart beats a little faster.
"Yeah?" He prompts. Yixing waits a moment, and Minseok pictures him blushing, his dimple digging into his cheek and his teeth worrying his bottom lip.
"I have reservations for two for the opening night of this new restaurant in town," Yixing says. "I would like you to come with me." He clears his throat. "On Saturday. Like tomorrow. As my date."
The yes bubbles up in Minseok's chest, his excitement palpable around him.
"Yes," he says, hoping he doesn't sound too excited, "Of course. I'd love to."
A relieved breath and another laugh from Yixing sound through the speakers. "Great. I- that's great. Umm. Text me your address and I'll pick you up at seven, ok?"
"Okay," Minseok responds. "I'll...see you then."
"Yeah, thanks."
Minseok blinks, "for what?"
"For saying yes," Yixing answers. He's still adorably awkward. "So, bye."
"Goodbye, Yixing." Minseok ends the call and turns back to his painting. His head is exploding with the colors, with the story, and his smile is threatening to split his face. He dunks his hands back into the paint, and continues, humming all the while.
April 6, 2019 - Saturday
Minseok can't say he's surprised when Luhan all but throws his door open when he barges into his apartment at a quarter past six in the evening. Minseok is still in his paint-splattered sweatpants, his shirt angrily discarded from when it had accidentally brushed up against the accents of black Minseok had been adding to the shadow of a decayed hand clenched around a working clock. The charcoal had smeared easily, and nearly spread into the white of the clock face. Minseok had been angry at the near ruin of this work, commissioned from the woman who bought his An End of Paradise.
"Minseok!" Luhan shouts, voice loud as if he wasn't only an apartment's width away. Minseok doesn't turn around, his thumb carefully swiping the black into the crease of the hand's palm.
"Hello, Luhan," he greets calmly. Luhan bounds over to him, a clothes bag with Macy's stamped on it hung over his shoulder. "What brings you here?" Minseok dabs his gummy eraser against a shadow, lightening it.
"I have clothes," he says, wriggling the bag a bit behind his back. "Since I know for a fact you do not have a single pair of nice pants anymore."
"Yixing told you," Minseok responds blandly, his focus still on the shadows of his charcoal.
"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
Minseok draws another careful line, his hand lifted from the paper so as not to smear the drawing while he creates the spinning clock hands.
"Almost ruined this one," he says. Luhan laughs loudly.
"So you threw it off," he cackles, "You're hilarious." Minseok sets down his charcoal, standing carefully and wiping his black-stained hands against his pants.
"Yes, yes," he says, "Are you going to dress me?" Luhan nearly twinkles in his glee. He gives Minseok's bare chest an approving once over, shaking his head at the black smudges across his stomach.
"First, a shower, I think," Luhan orders, "And then yes. Clothes." He shakes the bag again for emphasis. Minseok throws up his hands in exasperation but allows his best friend to walk him into his bathroom and force him to clean up.
"He's already seen me with paint on my face," Minseok calls out from underneath the shower spray, "why do I need to put in this much effort?"
"I can't believe you went out in public like that," Luhan shouts back, "You're an embarrassment."
Minseok simply laughs. Yixing had asked him out anyway, so he supposes Luhan's empty jabs are just that - empty. He rinses last of the soap from his body and steps out. Luhan nearly hits him in the face with a towel, and Minseok snaps it at his friend in retaliation.
"Truce!" Luhan yelps. Minseok just cackles. He towels off, rubbing at his hair. Luhan gives him a small sigh.
"What?" He asks. Luhan tells him he's proud Minseok managed to get his roots done. Minseok rolls his eyes, reminding his best friend that he did just have an exhibit not long ago. Luhan only takes this reminder as a chance to order Minseok to pay for the clothes he bought him. He guides Minseok out to the artist's bedroom where he's laid out the new outfit on the bed. Minseok stares at it for a long moment, before he pats Luhan roughly on the shoulder.
"You did good, man," he praises. He grabs out his underwear, shamelessly dropping his towel. It's nothing Luhan hasn't seen anyway- they've been best friends for far too long.
"Don't I usually?" Luhan scoffs, "Nice ass, by the way." Minseok snorts at him, pulling on his pants.
"You're only saying that because you picked out these jeans," he accuses. Luhan shrugs.
"Guilty as charged," he admits. Minseok pulls on the white undershirt, and drops the sweater, a deep forest green (he can practically hears the Macy's salesperson explaining how the color will bring out his hair and eyes to Luhan) over his head. It's soft, and Minseok makes a mental tip to get Luhan the new cleats he'd been raving about. He slips on brown loafers, and allows Luhan to advance on him with gel in his hands.
"You look good, kid," Luhan says once steps back. Minseok rolls his eyes.
"I'm older than you," he says. Luhan shoves at him with an elbow, carefully avoiding getting the rest of gel on his hands on Minseok's clothes.
"Go wash your hands," he orders. Luhan chirps out an obnoxious 'sir, yes, sir', but dutifully listens. Minseok moves over to his dresser, snatching up his watch and placing it over his wrist. The clock face blinks 6:45 p..m. at Minseok, who looks at Luhan, shaking out his wrist.
Luhan gets the message, sighing dramatically.
"Ok, honey, I'm leaving!" He calls out, stepping back into his shoes. Minseok opens his door, practically throwing Luhan out. "I expect to hear all about it!"
"Go home, Luke," Minseok says. Luhan smiles and heads down the hallway. Minseok steals himself ahead of time- there's no way he'll get out of withholding anything from Luhan come their Wednesday coffee date.
The artist closes the door, leaning against it and breathing for just a minute. He's a nervous, he can't remember the last time he went out on a date. His buzzer goes off.
"Yes?" Minseok says into the speaker by his door.
"Mr. Kim," the receptionist tells him, "I have Ryan here for you."
Relief in the form of amusement floods Minseok's system. "Tell him I'll be right down." Minseok checks his reflection one last time, adjusting the neck of his sweater (Luhan really did do a good job this time) before heading out the door.
When he exits the elevator, his vision explodes with navy and gray, soothing colors that relax him as he steps up to Yixing. The man smiles, and orange bursts against the calm backdrop.
"You look nice," Yixing greets, the perfect gentleman. Minseok will be damned if he admits he swooned, but he did.
"You too," he responds, and it's true. The navy blazer set across his broad shoulders is so close the Dress Blues Minseok might have fantasized about that his mind is set reeling. He can't even be bothered to hide the color rising on his face.
"Our carriage awaits," Yixing says, his voice dropped low and joking, gesturing toward the cabs outside. Minseok laughs and allows himself to be led out the doors, into a cab, and (after a few blocks of heavy night traffic) through the doors of a swanky bar and restaurant called Hook. Minseok's first impression of the place is "rich kid club," but as Yixing leads him upstairs, his attitude soon changes to delight at the sight of the restaurant with its cool colors and warm lighting. The rich navy and green of the upholstery fill his vision, and he's drawn to the image in his mind of two hands linked over dew-wet grass, a string of sapphire tangled in their fingers. The gold is low-lighted with orange that sparkles in the dew drops.
"Follow me this way," the maitre d' interrupts Minseok's thoughts; he jolts a little. Yixing gives him a curious look at they sit, thanking the maitre d' for the menus.
"Are you alright?" He asks, "You seemed a little out of it over there." He waves his hand in the general direction of the hostess' table.
"Yes," Minseok answers, "I just" -was thinking about you- "had an idea for a painting."
"Ah," Yixing murmurs. Then he smiles, "Is this a common thing with you? Spacing out?" Minseok shakes his head, laughing slightly.
"Umm, no, not really," he says, "Though Luhan might tell you otherwise."
"Hmm," Yixing muses, "Luhan tells me a lot of things. I've learned not to listen."
"Wise choice," Minseok comments just as their waitress comes up.
"Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?" She asks, voice polite but a slight wrinkle to her nose that displays her uncertainty at her new job. Minseok makes a note to give her an little extra tip. Yixing jumps, grabbing for the wine list. Minseok snatches it out of his hands, and the two stare at each other.
"I'll pick," Minseok insists, "Since you don't know wine." He turns to the waitress, ignoring Yixing's indignant exclamation.
"The Pinot Gris, please," he requests. "And water." The waitress nods and walks off, tucking her notepad back into her apron. He glances at Yixing.
"Order something light- fish or something," he suggests, picking up his menu. Yixing just nods, a little wide eyed and clearly not a wine connoisseur. The conversation doesn't quite pick back up then, the two of them reading their menus quietly. Minseok glances at it half-heartedly, choosing a couple possibilities while he thinks of something to say. It's not until after their waitress has come back and taken their selections to the kitchens that Minseok manages to attempt to break the silence, only for Yixing to beat him to it.
"Did I offend you?" He asks, the question completely off-track from any words Minseok had been expecting or managed to come up with ("So...do you like...have a gun?"). Minseok shakes him head in confusion, and Yixing coughs a bit awkwardly.
"I mean at your exhibit," he clarifies, color dusting his cheekbones, "When I said I didn't like your painting." Minseok jolts back, remembering his embarrassment of someone hating something he'd created, the itch to paint something else clinging to him like a parasite.
"No," he answers honestly. "I was unsure about my work for the rest of the night though." He doesn't mention the painting with the dominant purple hues resting under a sheet in his living room turned work room.
Yixing laughs, taking a mouthful of his drink to give his hands something to do. Minseok watches him swallow, following the bob of his adam's apple with hungry eyes.
"You're work is amazing," Yixing says, "Truly. I mean, I'm a big fan. It's just that that one, Bliss, it seemed- cynical?" He takes a sip of his wine, licking his lips thoughtfully. "I want to know what made you that way?"
"It's a bit of a heavy story," Minseok warns, keeping his tone light, "I'm not sure if that's first date material."
Yixing shrugs, "I've never fancied small talk."
"Fancied," Minseok repeats. He takes a mouthful of liquid courage, and breathes. "My parents are divorced now -I was sixteen at the time- and I just remember them before that." He watches Yixing's face carefully, but the Captain shows nothing but support. There's no trace of pity on his face. "Before the divorce, my parents were so in love. I remember them always happiest together. But, uh, then, my dad found out my mom had been sleeping with another man and all of a sudden...everything was horrible."
"Minseok," Yixing starts, his hand reaching across the table. Minseok takes it and squeezes once.
"It's just something like that reaffirms the idea that ignorance is bliss, you know?" He sighs. "But I'm fine now."
"Are you?" Yixing asks. Minseok doesn't answer; he doesn't have to. Yixing, as a soldier, understands that some losses have to just be put behind a person, even if the wounds are still fresh.
A waiter, two dishes in hand, pops up next to them. He sets the food down, and Minseok and Yixing say their thank you's before digging in. The food provides a pleasant distraction, the two of them sharing pieces of their meals with each other and arguing over which dessert to pick. When Yixing snatches the bill from Minseok, the artist has to hide how much that pleases him.
As the two of them exit the restaurant, Yixing casually slips his fingers through Minseok's, and Minseok internally decides he will accept a goodnight kiss from the Captain. They chat and smile all the way back until Minseok's complex looms above them.
"This is my building," Minseok says, gesturing. Yixing doesn't move to walk in with him, but he doesn't loosen his hold on Minseok's hand either.
"Minseok," Yixing murmurs, "I have a confession." Something in Minseok seizes, his leftover nervousness of being on a first date coming up to his throat. He coughs in an attempt to clear it.
"Ok?" He says. Yixing smiles, and in the twitch at the corner of his lips, Minseok can see his is a bit nervous too.
"I actually asked you out tonight for a very specific reason," Yixing admits. Minseok's brows furrow. Yixing lifts his hand as if to smooth out the creases, but decides it's too much too soon and drops it back to his side. He evenly meets Minseok's eyes.
"I asked you to dinner tonight in order to ask you to have dinner with me on Friday."
Minseok's mouth drops open as the tension flees from him. Then he laughs, running his free hand through his hair.
"You're asking me out again?" He asks, relieved and slightly elated.
"Well, technically, I asked you out in order to ask you out again..." Yixing says, a bit sheepish. Minseok squeezes his hand.
"Of course I'd love to," he says. He hopes his bright smile isn't scrunching his face up unattractively how Luhan's has a tendency to. Yixing's own face is split in a genuine grin, his pleased aura warming Minseok's heart. He leans in and ever so carefully presses his lips to Minseok's cheek.
"I'll call you then," he says. He releases Minseok's hand and waves.
"Ok, goodnight," Minseok barely manages to whisper. Yixing smiles and turns, walking away. Frozen in place, heart beat a little too quick, Minseok relives the feeling of Yixing's lips against his cheek. He sees the moment in gray water color on 130 pound paper, blue at their feet and yellow streetlamps reflecting in their eyes.
The blush hasn't receded from his face when he turns on his workspace lights and begins to sketch the image stuck in his mind.
April 12, 2019 - Friday
Minseok had been both thoroughly thrilled and thoroughly disappointed by the simple kiss on the cheek as their parting the last date. He'd wanted more, but he appreciated the slow pace. It feels like a dream- one he is still chasing.
The second date, another dinner, is just as nerve-wracking for Minseok, who finds himself constantly distracted by Yixing's general goodness. He's very noble, very authoritative, and constantly polite. Minseok attributes that to his military service, but he knows that some of Yixing's other traits (his respect for Minseok ranking at the top of the list) can't have been learned on a battlefield. Minseok finds his thoughts constantly edging on dangerous territory where he considers how much he really could fall for Yixing.
Dinner had been a simple affair at a small hole-in-the-wall kind of place in the older area of downtown. A local band had been playing, and Minseok had enjoyed listening to the blues accompanied by his and Yixing's conversation. Afterwards, they'd walked to Minseok's apartment building. Yixing had walked in this time, but stopped at the elevator.
"Are you not coming up?" Minseok asks, fingers hovering over the up arrow.
"No," Yixing says, "I actually have something to ask you." A slight sense of deja vu pings in Minseok's brain.
"Ok?" He says tentatively. Yixing grabs both of his hands, facing him square on.
"I asked you out tonight in order to ask you to go out with me next Friday," he says, "So will you?" Minseok breaks out into loud laughs that garner a few stares, but Yixing doesn't let go of his hands, doesn't flinch, doesn't look away from him.
"This sounds awfully familiar to an old story they told me in church," Minseok says, still laughing.
"Esther is basically the original romance," Yixing argues, unabashed.
"Didn't she risk her life to ask the king out the first time?" Minseok argues, squinting suspiciously at Yixing.
"I got blown up by a grenade," the Captain offers. Minseok feels simultaneously heart-broken and amused. He agrees to go out with Yixing again. The Captain smiles, and leans in again.
For one moment of frozen time, Minseok sees the golds and purples of a king and queen embracing each other, his yearning for Yixing to kiss him a bright slash of darkly colored lust across the picture. Yixing's lips find his cheek, a warm orange of childlike innocence. Minseok makes the slightest, pitiful whine that he immediately flushes for making. Yixing smirks.
"I'll see you on Friday, my king."
April 17, 2019 - Wednesday
"You seem awfully invested in our relationship," Minseok says, narrowing his eyes playfully at his best friend across the small table in Cups. Luhan flails his hands around in true drama queen fashion.
"Of course I am! I need this to work out!" He says, "I'm desperate and living vicariously through you!" Minseok reaches out and pets Luhan's hair to let it lay comfortably across his forehead.
"Don't worry, Hannie," he says, "Some young thing is coming to steal you away." Luhan pouts. With his hair down and lower lip sticking out, he looks all of eighteen years old instead of his twenty-eight.
"I hate you sometimes," he says. Minseok simply laughs, his vision exploding with pale yellow and rainbow colors- the palate he associates with Luhan's happiness.
"What do we hate Minseok for?" Yixing's voice says behind them, coming up with three coffees for them. Luhan immediately launches into an incorrect rendition of the past few minutes, claiming Minseok was calling him a cradle robber. Yixing nods along seriously, wrapping his arms around Minseok's waist. Minseok sees forest green and navy blue mixed with a bright explosion of orange- the colors he associates with happiness, the colors he associates with Yixing.
"Well, Lu-ge," Yixing says, slipping his hand easily into Minseok's, "You'll be pleased to know we're going out again on Friday." Luhan will never admit that he squealed at the news, but Minseok will also never let him live it down.
April 26, 2019 - Friday
Due to an unexpected doctor's appointment to check on a rather persistent bruise on Yixing's back (Minseok and Luhan had all but dragged Yixing to the doctor after he first complained),their date had to be postponed another week, but it didn't lessen Minseok's excitement for the outing.
Despite dinner being another casual affair of conversation and good food, Minseok enjoyed the familiarity and the comfort of Yixing's presence. When they step out of the restaurant, Minseok is not expecting Yixing to grab him and pull him in the opposite direction of his apartment.
"Where are we going?" Minseok asks, trying his hardest not to trip over his own feet with the sudden change in direction.
"I thought of something to do with you," Yixing explains. Minseok perks up, excited at the prospect.
"What is it?" He asks. Yixing doesn't answer, merely sending Minseok a secretive smile. Minseok continues following behind him, glancing every so often at the streets as the pass them. They come to a halt in front of an old warehouse that Minseok is well-aware of. It's owned by a family who rents the space out to performers and for Youth Group functions. All the old locks have been broken off, but one small school-grade lock holds together the chain around the doors.
"How are you planning to get in there, exactly?" Minseok asks. Yixing lets go of his hand, picking up the lock and spinning it.
"I set this up this afternoon. Luhan helped." The lock opens and Yixing sticks it in his pocket, pulling the chain off pulling the door stops up. "Help me?" He requests. Together, Yixing and Minseok open the warehouse doors. Inside, large canvas sheets and buckets and buckets of paint are set hanging from the walls or strewn across the floor.
"What?" Minseok asks, but he's already distracted. The blank canvas, the smell of paint, it calls to him, and he's itching to create.
"I've never seen you paint," Yixing explains, "and if I've learned anything about you, it's that you like to be a perfectionist and not ruin any of your materials."
"Those things are expensive!" Minseok argues, swatting at Yixing's shoulder. The Captain snatches his hand out of the air and leads him to the buckets of paint on the ground. Most of them are miss-mixed paints, sold in underpriced pints and quarts.
"These weren't," Yixing argues. He picks one up and pops open the lid. "So here's what we're going to do." He dunks his hand into the paint, walks a little closer to a canvas covered wall, and lobs the glob of silvery-gray at it.
The paint splatters, specks of it flying back and hitting Yixing's cheek. Minseok stares wide-eyed for a moment before he bursts out in laughter, grabbing his own can and his own handful of paint and throwing a horrid green with too much yellow as an undertone at Yixing's silver paint splatter. The two colors spread and mix, dripping down the canvas.
"It needs some blue, I think," Yixing says. He grabs out some aqua paint and flings it off his fingers in a circle. He grabs another handful and spins with it, the color flying around him, landing everywhere-
-even on Minseok.
Minseok gasps, and Yixing smirks at him, gesturing at his own chest.
"Come on," he taunts, "give it your best shot." And Minseok has always had a wonderful throwing arm, so he grabs up some pink from the assorted colors and throws it. Yixing side-steps only to get hit with the second handful.
"Oh," he breathes, a pretend angry scowl on his face, "This means war." It's a relentless war, the two of them throwing paint at each other and at the walls, decorating the place in mess and fun. Minseok laughs at Yixing attempting to spit some paint out of his mouth, and Yixing tackles Minseok to the ground. The paint on their shirts sticks together and smears all over their arms.
They both look atrocious, covered in puke green and candy pinks, but their smiles are beautiful.
"Some artist you are," Yixing says, attempting to peel his shirt from his chest, "This is hideous." He's right, but Minseok thinks it just makes Yixing's beauty stand out more. He can see him against a plain background, desert sand and yellow sky highlighting his hair and shining bits of gray into his warm eyes.
The paint settles around them, coated on their skin and colored in their hair, the rustle of the canvas quieting. Minseok looks directly at Yixing who's panting, joy lit up in his eyes. The Captain takes a step forward, his hand lifting to Minseok's cheek.
"Don't turn away," he pleads, and Minseok doesn't- he couldn't. He's wanted this since the first date. Yixing leans in, his head angled carefully. Their noses bump gently, and Minseok finally snaps out of his frozen state and tilts his head.
Colors explode behind Minseok's closed eyelids, gold and orange dancing in bright sparks over deep navy water where the waves crash against the rocks. The silhouettes of two lovers sparkle under turquoise water droplets flung into the dying sun.
Minseok's arms wrap around Yixing's shoulders, pulling himself closer to the other man. The kiss is long and heartfelt, their lips barely moving, the two of them breathing through their noses. It's Yixing who breaks away, pressing another kiss to Minseok's cheek.
Very slow, voice pitched so low and soft that Minseok's heart races just from the intimacy of it, Yixing whispers, "I asked you here for one reason." Minseok already knows what he's going to say, his smile already answers Yixing's question, but he waits for him to articulate it anyway.
"Will you be my date for the Banquet of Honors?"
"Is this your endgame?" Minseok asks, arms still around Yixing's neck. The man smiles slyly, and Minseok's stomach twists with the idea of more to come. He agrees with another kiss pressed to Yixing's mouth, stealing a gasp from the Captain and hiding it away for himself.
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