[fic] saudade ; xiuhan 2/4
It’s 1AM. Two figures lay sprawled on the carpet, just an inch separating their arms from touching. A woman’s low singing swirls off large speakers, inebriating the air like the Italian wine meddles with their minds. The bottle lies empty on the coffee table, along with the two glasses. Lu Han closes his eyes, singing along to the music. This one Minseok recognizes.
“This song.” Lu Han almost moans, covering his face with his hands. Minseok feels a laugh bubble up in the back of his throat at his reaction, but swallows it. “God, I wish you could understand the lyrics. It’s about a selfless love affair. Giving yourself completely to another.”
Minseok allows the melody to fill his ears, even though he can’t understand the language, he can still pick up the emotions behind the singers voice. That giddiness that comes through when one talks about someone they love.
“It had to be you,” Lu Han says in sing-song, a drunken smile appearing on his lips. Minseok realizes he’s translating the lyrics. “Or else it would lead to more pain. Or else it wouldn’t be love.”
He almost jumps to his feet, seizing Minseok’s arm and pulling him up too. The warm walls of Lu Han’s apartment spin, and Minseok struggles to stay on his feet. He feels Lu Han wrap a loose arm around his middle, bodies already swaying from side to side.
“I don’t know how to dance,” Minseok whines, feeling his skin burn hot.
Lu Han clicks his tongue, pulling him even closer. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
The two of them move awkwardly to the music. Lu Han laughs at Minseok’s shy steps as he spins, ending with his back to Minseok’s chest.
“You,“ Lu Han sings, Minseok wraps his arms around him. "Your beauty was born out of blue. Let me live in that blue.” He swirls back around, face only inches away from his dance partner, who struggles to keep his knees from shaking. “Won't you let me search for my peace?”
He could feel Lu Han’s breath on his cheek, and it smells like grapes and olive oil. His fingers curl around the hair on Minseok’s nape, blinking a few times before looking straight at him with his eyes hooded by inebriation.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says in a soft whisper, like his thoughts had accidentally escaped through his lips, but Minseok concludes these are song lyrics. Next to Lu Han, everything else becomes mute and unworthy of attention. The word beautiful was made to define him.
They break apart after the song ends and Lu Han drops to the couch, curling himself on the rusty colored leather. Minseok still stands, looking at the other with a grin.
Lu Han beams at him, extending his arm, fingers curling around Minseok’s wrist as he pulls him to the floor, making him sit down in front of him.
“Beautiful,” he repeats, tracing patterns with his thumb on the inside of Minseok’s wrist.
--
The night ends with Lu Han snoring softly on the couch, fingers gripping limply to Minseok’s wrist. Minseok watches the rise and fall of Lu Han’s chest, his lips are slightly parted, and his eyelashes cast a delicate shadow over his cheek. He allows his index finger to trace the slope of Lu Han’s nose, moving to the curve of his lips and to his chin. His skin is addictive and Minseok almost has to pry his hand away, observing as he stirred in his sleep.
He finds a fleece blanket folded in the other end of the couch and places it neatly over Lu Han’s body; he nuzzles his head into the cushions in a way that’s almost childish and utterly adorable.
“Goodnight,” he whispers into Lu Han’s ear. “Can I come back tomorrow?”
He smiles as Lu Han nods in his sleep.
--
The alarm goes off at 7AM.
Minseok switches it off, hitting the button with his palm, and going back to sleep.
--
He receives a call from Jongdae at around eleven. After willing the phone to stop ringing for a couple of seconds, Minseok gives in and rolls over to answer it, head pounding with the worst hangover of his life.
“I’m so jealous of you,” Jongdae says through the receiver and Minseok only groans in response, rubbing his eyes as he tries to fumble out of his bed. “The whole week off. I want your life.”
“No you don’t,” Minseok mumbles as he sits on the edge of the bed, his skin feeling clammy with sweat. “Not right now.”
“Come on, let’s grab lunch, yeah?”
Minseok looks the white envelope covered with elegant scribbles sitting on his nightstand. He smiles, forgetting about Jongdae in the other end of the line momentarily.
“Hello?”
He removes the CD from inside the envelope and looks at his reflection on the mirrored side, his cheeks are puffier than usual, and his hair is everywhere, but oddly enough he likes what he sees. This is a newer version of himself, not so prim and proper. Not so well put together.
After all, he doesn’t want to die in a bed made of regrets.
“Mariano’s. 1PM?” Minseok says, stretching his arm over his head.
“But you hate Mariano’s.”
“I changed my mind.”
“But you never change your mind. Everything is set in stone with you. The fuck is going on,” Jongdae hisses.
There are other voices in the background, and Minseok can hear that drone of endless typing from the office. Part of him just feels wrong. Life doesn’t change like that. At least it never did for him.
“I’ll see you there, Jongdae,” he says and doesn’t wait for the other to reply. He drops the phone in his bed.
Don’t think. Just feel.
--
Mariano’s serves Mexican food, which on normal days, Minseok abhors with a passion. Jongdae, though, had spend days raving about their enchiladas as if it had been the best thing he had ever tasted.
He orders the same thing as Jongdae, who looks at Minseok with wary eyes, trying to puzzle together the reasons behind his friend’s’s sudden change of heart. The restaurant jolts with lively conversation. Men in suits crowd the tables and pollute the space with chatter. Minseok wears jeans and an orange-toned plaid long sleeve shirt, sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of a mass of black and white.
“Why are we here again?” Jongdae asks just as the waitress leaves with their order. “You’re getting the bill, by the way.”
“Because I know how much you like the food here,” Minseok says, like it’s a no brainer. Jongdae’s eyebrows climb even higher up his forehead.
“What the f-,“ he stops when the waitress brings their drinks. He smiles politely at her, waiting for her to be out of earshot before continuing. “Tell me everything.”
Minseok’s shifts his gaze from side to side. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Bullshit,” Jongdae hisses, a grin growing wide across his face. “I’ve known you for 4 months. I’ve been dragging you out to lunch since my first day at our company. It was like talking to a wall sometimes, but I didn’t care. You got me this job and I-”
“Jongdae,” Minseok interrupts, shaking his head. “I didn’t get you the job. All I did was tell Mr. Jung that you seemed nice.”
“I nailed that interview, didn’t I? I cracked some good work appropriate jokes and the old man loved it.” Jongdae smirks, stirring his lemonade with the straw. “Regardless, you helped me. And you seemed so-”
“Pathetic?” Minseok helps, and Jongdae shakes his head sadly.
“Alone,” he corrects. “I wanted to be your friend, but you never let me.”
The words sting Minseok like an arrow, piercing straight through his chest. He plays with the condensation forming around his glass of iced tea, avoiding the gaze of the man sitting across from him.
“I’m sorry,” Minseok mumbles, looking down at his hands.
The waitress comes back with their food, dropping hot plates in front of them with a wide smile. Jongdae’s eyes drop to his food, and he thanks the girl, saying everything looked great. She tells them excitedly to enjoy their meal before leaving them alone again. The smell of cheese and hot sauce floods Minseok’s nose and he wrinkles it slightly. Jongdae snorts, digging into to his beef enchiladas.
“It’s okay, man,” he says with his mouth full.
Minseok feels a little lighter now, as he too digs into his food, string of cheese stick to his chin and Jongdae laughs at him, throwing a napkin in his direction. The two of them exchange a look that says, ‘lets turn the page, shall we? Start fresh?’
“So,” Jongdae pipes, shifting in his seat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about Joonmyun.” He bites his lower lip, holding back an excited smile.
“He didn’t puke on you again or anything, right?” Minseok jokes, and Jongdae sends him a mocking laugh in response.
“No,” he scolds. “He’s actually really nice. Things are going great.”
Minseok shoves a mouthful of chicken enchiladas into his mouth and chews slowly, absorbing the taste. It’s actually not that bad. Another thing to add to his list of new life mottos, you never know until you try.
“I’m glad,” he says, looking at Jongdae as he slurps on his lemonade, already calling the waitress for a refill.
His co-worker - or better yet, friend - stares at him fondly. “This is nice.”
“I know.”
It is nice, comfortable, like jigsaw pieces coming in together. Minseok begins to question a lot of things in his life, which he had ignored or pushed aside due to his bitterness. He’s doesn’t feel alone anymore, that monster is slain and withers to a silent death.
--
Minseok texts Lu Han at around 4PM, and the writer replies quickly, urging him to come join him for a Christmas movie marathon. The image of himself curling up against Lu Han in that red leather couch almost makes Minseok float right off the street, up towards the clouds. It’s silly, he knows it, but he doesn’t hold back his smile as he walks down the liquor aisle of the supermarket, trying his best to pick out a wine that will cause an impression.
Lu Han’s apartment is just a quick five-minute walk from the market. He carries a plastic bag with assorted snacks and the French red wine (selected with the help of a friendly girl who roamed the aisle at the time), swinging it to the pace of his steps.
The weather turns as soon as night comes and the temperature drops bellow zero. There’s snow in the forecast, but Minseok never trusts these things. He’d rather wait and see for himself.
Lu Han is already waiting for him, answering the door keenly, dressed in comfortable lounge clothes. He calls for Minseok to come inside, and not mind the mess, saying he’s been nursing a killer headache the entire day and had no patience to tidy up the place. It’s no matter, Minseok strangely already feels at home.
They sit on the floor facing each other. Lu Han’s mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ when Minseok hands him his wine selection, tracing his thumb over the label, the French name rolling off his tongue easily. He compliments him on the selection and excuses himself, zipping off to the kitchen to grab two glasses. Minseok doesn’t mind the fact all their conversations happen under the influence. He uses the alcohol like a crutch.
Like a comfortable routine, they drink. Lu Han plays a couple of songs for him on his guitar, giggling when his fingers don’t find the right strings, but Minseok loves every bit of it, with all the imperfections and rough edges.
After a few hours, Lu Han pops in a DVD in his laptop, plugging in to a projector. “Let’s start with A Christmas Carol,” he says, adjusting the settings with ease.
Soon, the movie is projected on the wall in front of them and Lu Han turns off all the lights, finding a spot next to Minseok on the carpet and ripping a bag of chips open, offering it to Minseok.
“Say ‘ah’,” he demands.
Minseok laughs but obliges as Lu Han feeds him a few chips, crumbs falling from the corners of his mouth. Lu Han wipes them away with his thumb; the act is so natural it doesn’t even faze Minseok. He drags his body across the carpet, settling closer to Minseok and resting his shoulder against his. Minseok’s heart pounds at an outlandish rhythm, and the movie starts.
--
At around 3 in the morning, Lu Han’s head rests on Minseok’s lap as the other’s hands run through his soft hair; a comfortable silence covers them like a blanket. Lu Han looks up at him, and his face is oddly serious like there are a million of thoughts racing inside his brain. After a few beats, he huffs out a breath.
“What is it?” Minseok questions. He stops his caresses and withdrawals his hands back to himself.
Lu Han protests, whining audibly and pulling his hand back, placing it on top of his forehead. “More.”
Minseok laughs and resumes his touches, daring his hand down to Lu Han’s ear and playing with his lobe. “Seriously,” he insists, “what’s on your mind.”
“I don’t know. It’s just-" He plays with the hem of his shirt, flashing a bit of skin and Minseok averts his gaze as he feels his cheeks burn ruby. “I don’t have much ambition anymore.” Lu Han blinks, once, twice, before clearing his throat. “My father died five years ago.” His voice catches, making Minseok’s heart clench. “It feels like it was yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry,” Minseok quickly whispers, Lu Han looks up at him with teary eyes and offers a dismissive gesture.
“It’s okay,” he reassures, rubbing his eyes before continuing, “well, he left me enough money to support myself for the rest of my life. I’ve decided I want to focus solely on writing.”
“You have the means, then go ahead. It’s something you love and your father was able to provide this for you. Do it.” Minseok encourages. “Plus, your writing is beautiful.”
Lu Han smiles brightly, stretching out his legs on the carpet; the sound of the friction lingers in the air for a few seconds.
“Thank you,” Lu Han says kindly. “Really, it means a lot.”
Minseok’s hand trails down to his shoulder, and then the collarbones peeking out of Lu Han’s shirt. He welcomes the touch, leaning into it and turning his head so that his lips brush against Minseok’s arm.
He sighs, hot breath tickling Minseok’s skin, before continuing his speech. “I live every single day scared that my existence will be dull. I want excitement, colors, and explosions of emotions.”
Lu Han’s insecurities contrast against Minseok’s like polar opposites. Minseok is what Lu Han fears most. Although he had vowed to take a few steps towards a different outlook on life, he knows it won’t happen overnight. He wonders if he can hold Lu Han like this long enough, until his transformation is complete. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to come of this cocoon by himself, he needs Lu Han to spread out his wings.
Lu Han sits up, eyes down on the carpet as his index finger swirls around it, creating patterns on the surface. “But I also want quiet evenings like this. Fine wine while listening to good music. Making love on a Sunday morning. Birds chirping on the window. The sound of waves crashing distant in the background. I want everything out of life.”
Minseok gulps.
“What about you?” Lu Han inquires honestly, looking straight at him now with that daring gaze. “What do you want, Minseok.”
Out of nowhere, Lu Han’s stereo completes the awkward silence with Tom Jobim’s Wave, already one of Minseok’s favorites. Lu Han’s only a few inches away, he’s so close and attainable, yet so fragile in Minseok’s grip. He inclines and Lu Han remains static, looking at him tentatively. Minseok takes in a breath, becoming intoxicated with Lu Han’s scent; it reminds him of the ocean.
Lu Han’s breath mixes in with his own, as neither of them makes a move. Minseok’s thumb rubs circles on Lu Han’s cheek, and he sees Lu Han’s eyes flood with expectation. He wants this, and it actually frightens Minseok.
They are inches apart, yet there’s an ocean separating them in Minseok’s eyes. The bridge is being built, but it’s not there yet.
“Don’t back down now, Minseok,” Lu Han whispers, and Minseok observes the way his lips move slowly and his entire body craves to just dive into them, ignoring the insecurities blasting inside his brain. “You got me.”
Their noses touch, and Minseok lets out a small gasp at the contact. Lu Han licks his lips, but doesn’t move. He wants Minseok to take the plunge, but there’s something holding him back, strings attached that allow him to come close but not close enough.
“I’m not ready,” Minseok says, a low raspy sound.
“I have all the time in the world,” Lu Han sighs back, taking Minseok’s hands into his own and lifting them up to his lips, grazing Minseok’s knuckles against them slowly.
Lu Han kisses his palms, closing his eyes as he whispers, “I’m not going anywhere.”
--
“Let’s stay in bed until Sunday.”
Minseok feels his heart stagger as Lu Han’s fingers curl around his arm, leading him into a room he had never been before in Lu Han’s house, the bedroom. The golden haired poet offers him comfort, dragging him into his personal castle, knocking down all the walls and sharing his private space.
“Promise me,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed with Minseok between his thighs, “we can’t leave this room until Sunday night. Only getting up to go the bathroom and to get food.”
It sounds so silly, but Minseok finds himself nodding in return to Lu Han’s request. “I promise,” he answers solemnly
“We’ll stay here until reality kicks in.” He pats the stop next him and Minseok quickly takes it, resting his chin on Lu Han’s shoulder. “You have to return to work and I have a meeting with my editor.” He makes a face, causing laughter to escape Minseok’s throat.
They fall on their backs, and Lu Han tangles their legs together.
This is the best Christmas gift he could ever receive.
--
They fall asleep together.
Lu Han clutches to Minseok as tightly as he can, their bodies almost glued together under the covers, his breath tickles the back of Minseok’s neck the whole night. He wants to bottle up this feeling, placing it in a safe inside his mind so he could relieve this moment forever.
--
The next day, they sit under a blanket, light penetrating the fabric and casting beautiful shadows against Lu Han’s face.
“I’m working on a novel,” he confesses, fingers brushing against the veins on Minseok’s foot, following the paths of purple in the pale skin. “It’s about a boy.” His tone turns dramatic, like he’s about to tell him an epic tale. “Born with the special ability to teleport all over the world.”
Minseok leans in with interest and Lu Han closes his eyes, letting the story overwhelm him. “With the blink of an eye he’s somewhere else. No chains to hold him. Freedom.”
That last word rings against Minseok’s ears, he frowns. “He must be very lonely.”
“On the contrary,” Lu Han responds baffled, “he’s surrounded by the entire world. No one is out of reach. He loves endlessly and carelessly. And with a snap he turns into smoke, reappearing in someone else’s arms.”
Minseok chuckles because this time it’s Lu Han who doesn’t get the point. “You don’t know loneliness.”
Lu Han sighs and accepts defeat. “You’re right. I don’t.”
“Luckily you won’t have to.”
--
Lu Han returns with two plastic bags exhaling the smell of greasy food. Minseok had barely opened his eyes from an afternoon slumber, clinging to a soft feather pillow during Lu Han’s absence.
“Dinner,” Lu Han says as he jumps into the bed, causing Minseok’s body to bounce against the mattress, and he clutches to the cotton sheets.
He sits up, trying desperately to flatten his hair, and Lu Han laughs at his futile attempts. They have been like this for two days already, just basking in each other’s company, exchanging secrets under the sheets, and comfortably denying reality and living a dream with their eyes open.
Lu Han hands Minseok chopsticks and a plastic bowl filled with chow mein and orange chicken. “Fast food Chinese?”
Lu Han already has noodles dangling from his lips. He slurps them into his mouth, ignoring Minseok’s bickering. “It’s Christmas eve. Nothing else was open.”
December 24th.
And Minseok isn’t alone for the first time in three years.
They eat in silence, already way too comfortable with each other’s presence. Minseok lives and breathes Lu Han for more than twenty-four hours now. It’s like a crash-course. Suddenly, he raises his eyes from his food, finding Lu Han opening up another box and digging through its contents with his chopsticks.
“Why me?” He blurts out, the question that had been plaguing him since this entire thing started.
Lu Han sneers, a childlike gesture, as he pulls a steamed bun with his chopsticks out of the box and raises it to Minseok’s cheeks.
“You’re cute,” Lu Han answers simply, and Minseok doesn’t accept it. He moves his mouth, trying to gnaw the bun out of Lu Han’s grasp but the other was faster, pulling it back and shoving it in his mouth, chewing with content.
“That’s it?” Disappointment rings out of Minseok’s intonation, falling over Lu Han like a puff of smoke and seeping through his skin.
Lu Han allows it all to loom over them for a couple of seconds, chewing his food slowly.
“There’s something about you. We’re so different. But we fit. It’s mindboggling to me.”
More silence and Minseok wants to lift that veil of insecurity that falls above him, suffocating the moment and stealing away the sanctuary he had built around them. Lu Han could have anybody. Why him?
“I want to live inside your brain. I want to be more like you. And I want you to learn how to be like me. There’s this amazing balance I’ve never felt with anyone else.”
Balance.
Minseok’s favorite word.
--
Like the last bite out of ice cream on a summer day, Sunday comes too soon. The morning awakes them with sunlight. The weather clears as if awakening the two dreamers, tangled together under cotton sheets, from a pleasant illusion. The imaginary castle crumbles piece by piece, as Lu Han clings to Minseok tighter than ever.
Lu Han’s languid lips swirl around Minseok’s back, creating a delicate paths against his skin.
He leaves the bed and Minseok already misses the warm, as if his skin’s now addicted to the contact. Lu Han comes back after a few seconds, hands hidden behind his back, beaming like a child.
“Close your eyes,” he demands, shuffling towards the bed.
Minseok sits up, cotton slides off his chest down to his lap. He thinks Lu Han may have turned up the heater on purpose the night before. Both of them had tossed their shirts into a pile in the corner of them room. The space they had been confined to is now scattered with take-out bags, CD covers, pieces of clothes, their insecurities, fears, and a bit of their pride.
He obliges to Lu Han’s request, and the other snickers.
“Open,” Lu Han says, and Minseok feels a soft weight on his lap.
Sitting innocently on top of his crossed legs, Minseok finds a yellow and green cable knit sweater. It looks worn, the fabric on its sleeves are fraying a bit.
“My father brought me this from Rio. It’s from the 70’s,” Lu Han says excitedly. “I want you to have it.”
Minseok brings in the sweater closer to his face, absorbing all its details. The fabric smells like dreams.
“Lu Han I-,” Minseok starts, but Lu Han interrupts him, swiftly throwing the sweater over Minseok’s head. It fits him perfectly, comfortable, like that entire weekend had been.
“Merry Christmas, Minseok.”
--
Minseok presses a tiny deer figurine into Lu Han’s hand. The boy’s fingers curl around the timber animal, holding it as if it were made of diamonds.
“Keep it safe for me,” Minseok says, holding back a smile.
“I’ll guard it with my life.”
--
Five o’clock rolls around, the colors bleed in the sky, and the weather turns again, answering the silent prayers of many children. It snows, weakly at first, white gathering on Lu Han’s balcony and slowly building up as the hour passes.
“No,” Lu Han whines, kicking his feet on the bed. “I have a flight to catch.”
“And I have work tomorrow,” Minseok reminds him sternly.
“Reality,” Lu Han gripes. “I hate it so much. That’s why I’m a writer.”
Minseok laughs as he collects his things around the room, slipping back into his jeans and shoes, as if dressing himself with reminders that the outside world still exists, despite Lu Han’s endless complaints. He wears the sweater Lu Han gave him, the material hugs his skin tenderly, mirroring Lu Han’s tight embraces.
When Minseok stands on the doorway, he finds himself clinging to the seconds. Lu Han’s eyes prefer to admire the stains on the carpet as he heaves a drawn out sigh. He can see dents on the skin of Lu Han’s cheek, imprints of the pillow. Unconsciously, he reaches out to touch the lines, causing Lu Han’s head to snap up.
The bridge is there and Minseok sees the path across the water, his feet dying to cross it.
“Don’t back down now, Minseok,” Lu Han susurrates, his voice swirls in the thin air between them. Challenging brown orbs now pierce Minseok’s entire being, virtually begging with a simply stare.
Minseok leans in; nose bridges rub together briefly, before his lips quietly encounter Lu Han’s. Coy movements, tiny gestures, and intakes of air, crown the moment. Lu Han hungrily parts his lips, fingers curling against Minseok’s shoulder, pulling their frames closer together. Absurd reactions happen inside Minseok’s body, there’s a drum where his heart should be, and he’s pretty sure Lu Han could hear it creating music, the soundtrack to their moment. The rhythm is irregular, but so are they.
When Lu Han pulls away, breathless and with his lips tinted ruby, Minseok protests. A small gripe makes its up through his lips as he leaves a trail of pecks down Lu Han’s neck.
“Reality, Minseok,” Lu Han prompts. “It awaits us.”
“You’re my reality now,” Minseok says, their foreheads stick together and Lu Han smiles beautifully.
You’re everything I needed.
--
There’s still days where Minseok rises from sleep still disoriented from the sudden turn his life has taken. The full circle spin leaves him dizzy. Suddenly, it’s New Years, and he finds himself in Lu Han’s balcony, arms tangled in a sincere embrace as snowflakes melt in their clothes. Midnight rings with a kiss, just like it happens in the movies, and fantasy feels like reality. It’s tangible in the way Lu Han’s words drizzle all over his ear in warm hushed whispers, little reflections of the incredible downpour of sensations happening inside their bodies.
It all falls into comfortable companionship throughout the weeks and extends into what Minseok believes to be the best month of his life. He holds on to January until the last hours of the 31st, still believing that this would all expire soon enough.
It doesn’t.
Dating is an interesting concept, Minseok realizes. They exchange daily text messages and see each other as often as possible. The honeymoon phrase Jongdae had warned him about is very real. They accept each other’s faults so easily.
It all becomes routine. The meals they share. The films they watch together (and how Lu Han always likes to drink cup after cup of coffee after them, so they could dissect the plot until there was nothing left to talk about). The music Lu Han plays on his guitar, as Minseok works on his laptop, and Portuguese and Chinese don’t even sound like foreign tongues anymore. The peculiar way Lu Han eats, separating each part of his plate carefully and eating them in order. Rice first, then chicken, and leaving his veggies for last.
All the tiny details become endearing and Minseok begins to keep a journal so he could capture them all, and relive the moments later on when he’s alone. He sticks the polaroids Lu Han takes to the pages and scribbles little anecdotes and realizations around them. This day Lu Han wrote me a poem, he jots down during his lunch break at work, Lu Han compares the way he feels about me to drowning. Dying and coming back to life.
There’s still a tiny impasse Lu Han can’t seem to ignore, much to Minseok’s irritation. February brings the stability routine, however, Minseok still doesn’t allow Lu Han to visit his own home. They spend countless hours in Lu Han’s spacious flat, in coffee shops, tiny bars in filled with cigarette smoke and good music. But Minseok never gives Lu Han consent to go up the elevator and invade his intimate fortress of immaculate compulsion.
Lu Han is, for the most part, very considerate of Minseok’s issues. He offers assistance in all the ways he can. Therapy becomes a frequent topic of discussion in their date nights, but Minseok brushes it off as soon as the subject rises.
“I’ve gotten a lot better since we’ve met,” Minseok says as they exit the coffee shop and Lu Han attempts to hail a cab. “You don’t see me scrubbing your kitchen’s grimy floors. Or organizing your records and CDs. You should create some sort of system for those, by the wall. It took me hours to find that Bossa Nova compilation you wanted me to listen to.”
A cab stops in front of them and they hop in quickly, Minseok closes the door as Lu Han stills eyes with suspicion.
“Where are we going?” Lu Han asks softly, a small string of hope unwinds itself in his words.
“I’m going home,” Minseok says apologetic. “We’ll drop you off on the way.”
The sting is cut.
He gives the driver directions and as the car jolts into movement, Lu Han’s eyes divert to the pavement. Minseok wonders how long he has until the unobtrusive and sympathetic Chinese poet snaps.
--
March comes barging in without warning, tearing Lu Han away from Minseok very often as the writer dives headfirst into his newest project. On the second week of the month, he finishes his novel and Minseok bugs him for endless hours to get a sneak peak of his complete work. Lu Han denies him the privilege, saying that he’d rather wait until it’s printed and promises that the first copy will be his.
As a consequence of this, Lu Han’s business trips occur very frequently now. The publishing house flies him all over Asia, closing contracts to get his book translated into other languages. They invest heavily on him, and Lu Han carries the burden generously.
They talk on the phone when he’s away and Lu Han whines about missing the warmth of Minseok’s body next to him. The hotel rooms are way too cold and impersonal, so Lu Han always makes sure to pack his old stripped sapphire blue comforter (which Minseok wonders how it still hasn’t disintegrated considering the long periods of time Lu Han goes without watching the damn thing) to make sure he always has a piece himself wherever he goes.
One weekend, when Lu Han is in Tokyo, he calls Minseok in the middle of the night, voice coming in through the receiver in breathy whispers, gamboling with urgent desire that’s usually reserved for the safety of Lu Han’s apartment. The words ring of flushed lust and Minseok finds himself burning with the red aura that travels miles through phone towers.
Lu Han moans as he recounts past encounters, remembering of a particular time when Minseok had gotten a bit too tipsy after a few of Lu Han’s homemade drinks. He pushed his body against Lu Han on the kitchen counter, hands quickly undoing buttons and zippers ineptly until they were both moving to the rhythm of their thirst for each other. Minseok’s had dropped to his knees, and Lu Han explains in beautiful detail about the way his mouth felt, as always dropping allusive words and metaphorical phrases.
Minseok pops the buttons of his jeans open, listening to Lu Han’s heavy breathing in the other end of the line. The distance dissipates and it’s like any other Saturday night they spend in bed, satiating each other’s yearnings. Lu Han’s name falls easily off Minseok’s lips, and the other begs for him to repeat it because he loves the way he says it.
The name comes out like a growl, pushing its way out of Minseok’s mouth as he begins to feel the tension building inside of him, and he imagines Lu Han’s hands enveloping him in way only he knows how, both delicate and exigent, movements gradually becoming more urgent, but still elusive.
Minseok can hear Lu Han letting out a sequence of shuddering breaths. Choked moans, and calls of Minseok’s name resound in his ear like a delicious treat. He, too, finishes soon after, smiling pleasantly with his eyes closed, trying to picture the other panting beside him, eyes hooded by lust.
“Please come back soon,” Minseok carps, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling.
“This is good,” Lu Han says, heavy breathing turning into static against Minseok’s ear. “This distance made me realize something important.”
“And what would that be?”
Lu Han pauses, and for a while all Minseok could hear was his breathing slowly returning to a normal rate.
“It made me realize that I love you.”
--
“Double date. Tonight. You. Me. Lu Han. Joonmyun. At Ipanema. I already booked us a table. 8PM. Don’t be late.”
The line clicks before Minseok could protest. But then again, Lu Han has been cooped up in his apartment for a week, working on re-writes and basically pulling all his hair out over his editor’s notes. It would be good for him to get some fresh air.
He calls Lu Han and frowns and he hears the other’s tired voice, cracking with disuse and lack of sleep. He agrees to join them, saying that it would be a pleasure to meet Minseok’s friends. That’s when he realizes that even though Lu Han had shared every aspect of his life, he hasn’t exactly done the same. Lu Han has introduced him to every single one of his friends, proudly holding his arm and saying, ‘this is my boyfriend. Kim Minseok.’
The only person, from Minseok’s side, that knows about his relationship is Jongdae. Lu Han often talks about wanting to take Minseok to Beijing so they could meet his mother. But Minseok the mere thought of bringing Lu Han home to his parents terrifies him. What would his father think? Would he consider his relationship with a man a lack of character? Would his future as CEO of the company be compromised?
And most importantly, is he ready to put all of this on the line for Lu Han?
--
The get together ends up being a fairly enjoyable affair, Lu Han charms both Jongdae and Joonmyun with his endless knowledge about Brazilian music, recognizing each and every song that plays in the background. He tells Jongdae how he became friends with the owner of Ipanema, a young man named Zhang Yixing, and how he had begged for a semi-permanent spot on Wednesday nights so he could work on his stage fright.
Minseok takes the opportunity to get to know Jongdae’s boyfriend. He works in the law firm in two floors above and wears diamond cufflinks. They laugh extensively about Joonmyun’s previous nickname and his disastrous first date with Jongdae. He rides through the embarrassment by making a series of flat jokes, which Lu Han cackles along out of politeness. Jongdae smiles forcefully, tapping Joonmyun in the back and giving him a look that says enough, please.
Minseok quickly realizes the young lawyer indeed has a terrible sense of humor and the awkward jokes carry on through the night. Lu Han doesn’t seem to mind, though. He drinks just as much as Joonmyun, keeping up with the pace of the table as Minseok still lingers on his first dose of whiskey.
They find some common ground discussing work life and Lu Han shares with them a bit of the woes of being a writer. Jongdae nods along and sympathizes, but encourages the Chinese poet, making sure to add that he’d be first in line to buy a copy of his novel once its out. Joonmyun chimes in, already asking for a signed copy, you know, in case Lu Han becomes famous so he can sell it on Ebay for big bucks.
“I doubt that,” Lu Han gripes, rolling his eyes at Jongdae’s exaggerated cries of protest. “I’m getting some good feedback from some very important people. But we’ll see. It’s the general public that has to like it. I don’t really care about critics.”
“You are your own worst critic,” Minseok nearly mumbles, empty glass still sticking to his bottom lip. “But I’ve told you this already.”
“Only about three hundred times over the last month,” Lu Han replies, sounding a bit uncomfortable. For someone so talented, he really hated the attention. Unless he’s on stage, that’s when he transformed into that audacious persona who lures innocent moths to the light of his eyes. But on regular days, Lu Han can’t even look at himself in the mirror without breaking the gaze after a few seconds.
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Joonmyun maintains, pulling on his loose tie and pouting sadly at his empty beer bottle.
“We’ll throw you a party to celebrate the book release, how about that?” Jongdae says excitedly, nudging his boyfriend with his elbow, hitting the other on the ribs quite roughly. “Hey. No blacking out here. Wait until we get to the cab at least. Jesus Christ. What a lightweight.”
“He had like twenty beers in the span of three hours. I think he did okay,” Lu Han jokes, as Joonmyun slurs something incoherent, head falling safely on Jongdae’s shoulder.
“Don’t you dare drool on my jacket. Goddamnit.” Jongdae pushes Joonmyun away gently, giving his face a few tender slaps in a feeble attempt to keep him conscious. “I think that’s our cue to leave.”
“I’ll get the bill.” Lu Han jumps to his feet, already digging his credit card out of his pocket. The others object for a few seconds, even Joonmyun attempts to pull his wallet out of his pockets but ends up knocking an empty glass to the floor, causing it to shatter all over their area and bringing in the attention of a very unhappy attendant.
“Lu Han please make sure my boyfriend doesn’t destroy anything else while Minseok and I take care of the bill,” Jongdae says as he pulls Lu Han back to their booth. “Come on, it will be our treat. Since it was in this place that you two decided to give us losers a few minutes of your precious time. Look where we are now. It’s been what?”
“Three months,” Minseok finishes his thought, the number falling heavily out of his mouth.
Three months and Lu Han already spews out I love you’s whenever he can. And not once has Minseok reciprocated. He just smiles awkwardly and kisses the words out of Lu Han’s lips. He doesn’t question the authenticity of Lu Han’s feelings. Lu Han loves freely and doesn’t censure his emotions, he regurgitates them as they come.
They wait at the cashier line, patiently standing by as an older gentleman has a little trouble with his credit card, after what seems to be the tenth attempt, the transaction finally goes through the and pretty girl behind the counter begins to add up their expenses.
“You know,” Jongdae starts, handing her his card and waving Minseok’s away when he offers. “I’ve realized something. About you and Lu Han.”
Jongdae squints his eyes to find the right place to sign his receipt, the lovely cashier helps him, and he gives her a charming smiles. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
She hides her face behind the piece of paper, cheeks clearly burning in embarrassment. Jongdae winks before clicking the pen and sliding it back to her. “Have a nice night.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she replies flustered and Minseok couldn’t help but laugh at the look Jongdae gives her before towing him to a hidden area next to the bar, away from Lu Han and Joonmyun’s line of sight.
“What is it?” Minseok asks, eyes blinking with confusion.
“Please don’t be pissed.” He scratches his head a few times, lips twisting as if bitter words had stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Lu Han seems nice and all, but I want you to keep your feet in the ground.”
Minseok shakes his head, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’ve known guys like Lu Han my entire life. The artist types. They are never satisfied and never settle. They’re always in the search for something. One day it may be you. The next it may be someone else.”
Minseok pounders on Jongdae’s words, and figures they seem plausible. However, he doesn’t see Lu Han in the manner, but maybe he’s already trapped in the spider web, just waiting to become the prey.
“I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt. Because I know that if everything goes wrong you’ll just retract back into isolation. And I don’t want that. I value this,” he points a finger to Minseok and then back to himself, “far too much. So, as a friend, your best friend, I’m telling you. Don’t. Become. Too Attached.”
It’s a little too late for that, Minseok wants to say. But in reality, he humbly agrees, nodding his head and giving Jongdae a thankful smile.
“You’re right. I’ll just play it cool. Take it as it comes. But so far, I’m really happy.”
Jongdae gives him a playful punch to the shoulder, sequentially wrapping an arm around Minseok and dragging him back to the table where Lu Han tried desperately to keep Joonmyun awake.
“Glad you’re happy, man. You deserve it more than anybody. Just don’t let yourself drown, you know?” With that, Jongdae gives Minseok a loud slap in the back, rushing back to his boyfriend’s side and taking him out of Lu Han’s hands.
Minseok thinks back to the poem Lu Han had written for him, comparing his feelings to being pulled up from the bottom of the ocean, struggling for air. Suddenly, there’s a hand in the middle of the dark blue, a tight grip that pulls him out of the water, a mouth that breathes hair into his lungs.
Dying and coming back to life.
In one second, going from nothing to everything.
--
About a week after the eventful double date, Lu Han announces yet another trip out of the country. This time, he’s going to see his mother in Beijing, a small treat after submitting his final (he promises this time it really is) draft. The publishing house gives him an expected release date and they celebrate by eating pizza on the floor of Lu Han’s apartment. Minseok’s still wearing his work clothes and he whines when grease drips into his unspoiled white shirt. Lu Han laughs at him, as he tries to dap the spot with a napkin with a few stings of cheese attached to his chin.
“I have something for you,” Minseok announces, dipping his hand into the pockets of his blazer.
Lu Han raises an eyebrow, chewing with his mouth open as he watches his boyfriend offer him a closed fist.
“Close your eyes,” Minseok requests.
Lu Han rolls his eyes before obeying Minseok’s bid, dropping a slice of peperoni pizza back in the box. Minseok lets out a long sigh, before grabbing Lu Han’s right hand and placing a small silver key in his palm.
“Open.”
Lu Han’s left speechless as soon as he feels the key in his hand. His eyes go wide and he stares at the small piece of metal with his mouth hanging open. Minseok shrugs, smiling shyly at him. He doesn’t know exactly what had pushed him to finally do this. Maybe Jongdae’s words had the opposite effect. Minseok now understands that relationships are about compromise, and he’s ready to start taking baby-steps.
“Are you sure?” Lu Han asks, placing the key in front of his lips.
“Yeah, I mean. It was about time. You gave me the key to your place during New Years. But you know me. I just needed to make sure you weren’t crazy. Or a serial killer before I let you in my house.”
Lu Han laughs, holding the key like it was made of gold in his palm. He looks at Minseok; his eyes filled with sincerity, like he truly appreciated the gesture and recognized how big this was for him.
“Thank you,” Lu Han says almost in a whisper, closing the distance between them to lay a lazy kiss on Minseok with his grease packed lips. He tastes cheese and the spice of peperoni in Lu Han’s mouth. There’s something else mixed in the middle as Lu Han’s tongue circles over his, a hint of glee and kindness.
When they break apart, Lu Han makes sure to spread grease all over Minseok’s face with his fingers. Minseok holds in the urge to push him away and run to the bathroom in order to rub his skin raw. Instead, he allows Lu Han to pepper cheesy kisses all over his cheeks.
“Can’t believe I’m the one giving you a gift when you’re spending my birthday away from me,” Minseok complains, closing his eyes when Lu Han sucks at a sensitive spot behind his ear.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Lu Han whispers, breath hot in Minseok’s ear, “when I get back.”
Lu Han insists he doesn’t want settle on a return date yet, choosing to spend as much time with his mother as possible. He doesn’t blame Lu Han for wanting to spend his little vacation with his family; since he might not to be able to see her at all once the book promotions start. But still, he couldn’t help but to feel a little bitter for having to spend his 26th birthday alone, particularly now when he has someone so special.
“I’m sure Jongdae and Joonmyun will take you somewhere nice,” Lu Han says, running his thumb over Minseok’s lips. “I’m sorry-”
“Don’t apologize, okay? It’s your mother. Spend as much time with her as you can. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“Only if you promise not to forget about me while you’re away.”
“Never.”
--
One day before Minseok’s birthday he gets a frantic call from his father at the office. The line is full of static and he can barely hear the man’s voice. After a few minutes, he’s able to pick up a sentence in amidst the mess of sounds.
“We’re coming to town for your birthday.”
Everything after that becomes a mess of preparations, and an entire sleepless night spent cleaning the apartment to make sure it’s nothing less than perfect. Minseok sweeps, scrubs, and hoovers the entire place twice. Making sure the windows are so clear they are almost invisible, and that the flat smells like citric cleaning products.
He buys Italian food from their favorite place in town on his way home from work, and make sure to get that wine his dad likes. They come over two hours late, as expected. Embracing their already grown child in tight hugs and happy birthday wishes. They give him a new watch, a very flashy Rolex that Minseok will probably never wear. Probably his mother’s choice, her sense of fashion has always been a little off.
His father talks about Europe and how he loaves it, and how he can’t wait to go back to the Caribbean. His mother tells him about the place they had acquired in The Bahamas and how much Minseok would love it.
“I don’t have time for vacation, mom,” he says, pouring his dad a glass of wine. “Dad never gives me a break.”
The man laughs loudly, giving Minseok a strong pat in the back. “You are the one that never gives yourself a break, Minseok. Yunho tells me everything. Don’t you forget.”
“Oh, honey. You should really consider coming to The Bahamas with us. It wouldn’t hurt you to get a tan. You’re looking sickly.” His mother pinches his cheeks and Minseok simply lets her. There’s no arguing with that woman. She always gets what she wants.
“I’ll think about it,” Minseok compromises. “Maybe after the mid-year closings.”
“Jesus Christ, I always hated those,” his father says, digging into to his cannelloni. “But soon you won’t have to worry about that. Yunho is retiring in two years. After that, the company is yours.”
Words Minseok repeats to himself every day as he works against deadlines with a pounding headache.
“You two always talk about work,” his mother gripes, rolling her eyes. “So, you’re 26 now, Minseok. I don’t want to be senile by the time you give me grandkids. Are you seeing anyone?”
Yes.
His name is Lu Han and you guys would love him.
“No.”
The woman pouts, lowering her eyes down to her salad. “Pity.”
“He has all the time in the world for that,” his father says, sending a wink in his direction. “When I was your age, I didn’t want to settle. I was at my prime and filthy rich. I could have any woman in town.”
“And then he met me and I made sure I had a ring in my finger in six months,” his mother adds in a theatrical whisper, causing his father to let out a chain of annoyed grumbles.
Minseok smiles at them as they exchanged a loving look. His father placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder, tenderly playing with her gigantic chandelier earrings.
One hour into to their dinner, his father starts to ramble about how terrible the economic crisis has hit Europe. Just as he starts to complain about how much of a mess France has become, a sound coming from the front door interrupts him. Minseok feels his pasta turn in his stomach.
It couldn’t be-
The door slowly swings open, and Lu Han enters the apartment pulling a small suitcase behind him, his smile slowly fading out of his lips when he realizes the scene he has walked in.
“Hi,” he says, sounding utterly embarrassed. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Kim. I’m Lu Han. Minseok’s-"
“Friend,” Minseok quickly interjects, rising from his chair to stand by Lu Han’s side, a nervous smile plastered over his lips. “This is my friend. Lu Han. From college.” Lu Han looks at him perplexed. Minseok throws him an apologetic glance.
Minseok’s parents greet Lu Han with tiny bows, smiling warmly and quickly calling for him to join them for dinner.
“Oh, thank you but I can’t,” Lu Han says with his head lowered. “I just came by to with my friend a happy birthday. I actually just flew in from Beijing so I’m a little of tired.”
“You’re young. You can rest later. Come on, kid. Tell me about China,” His father insists, pulling a chair next to him.
“Stay. Please.” Minseok nearly begs, and Lu Han eventually agrees, shrugging off his jacket and taking the spot next to Minseok’s father as his mother pushes a bowl of fettuccini towards him.
It’s amazing how easily Lu Han can converse with almost anybody. His mother couldn’t stop gushing over Lu Han’s good looks and intelligence the entire time. After the dinner, Minseok’s father and Lu Han discuss the state of the Chinese economy. The man listens as Lu Han rebuttals his misinformed ideas about the country, politely correcting him throughout the conversation. Of course, at some point Lu Han mentions Brazil as an example of yet another emerging power, talking about the country’s influence in today’s world. His father pours them another glass of wine and begins to tell Lu Han about his recent trip to Rio de Janeiro. The boy’s eyes practically shine as his listens to his father talk about their stay, about their experience in the Carnaval, and how Minseok’s mother came back looking like a shrimp for lingering at the beach way too long.
“I can’t wait until I get the opportunity to visit Rio. It’s been a dream of mine since I was young,” Lu Han confesses.
“You’ll love it,” Minseok’s mother jumps in the conversation, patting Lu Han in the knee. “Make sure you take someone special with you. That makes the trip even more incredible.”
Lu Han gives Minseok a sharp look, and he almost drops the plates he’s holding.
“I’m make sure of that,” Lu Han says, eyes still on Minseok as he scurries to the kitchen, dropping all the dishes in the sink, his heart going wild inside his chest.
Minseok’s parents say goodbye not long after, saying that they’re catching a flight the next day and they need the rest. His mother extends the invitation to spend some time at their house in The Bahamas over to Lu Han. They absolutely adore him at first sight, just as Minseok had. But then again, Lu Han’s sweet and soft-spoken manner is impossible not to love.
When they are left alone in Minseok’s living room, the atmosphere takes a turn. The silence kills Minseok and he wants to scream a million apologies. The fact that Lu Han is inside his personal castle of obsession doesn’t even bother him. Not even when Lu Han puts his feet up in Minseok’s white sofa, his filthy sneakers would certainly leave dirt stains which would probably cause Minseok to chuck out cushion later, but right now, all he cares about, all he wants is Lu Han’s forgiveness.
“Listen I-," Minseok starts, walking back in forth in his living room.
“I understand. You don’t have to say anything.”
Minseok stops, letting his body drop to the hardwood floor, and sitting in front of Lu Han. He looks at him unaffected, sipping his wine as his eyes wander around Minseok’s place, eventually stopping at the many drawings and sketches stuck to a corkboard in the corner.
“I see that you too stick dreams to your wall,” Lu Han says, getting up from the couch to get closer. “These are beautiful.”
He takes one of the sketches out and analyzes it under the light. It shows a building, oval shaped and held by a single column, all of it made of glass and steel. Lu Han’s fingers trail over the pencil marks, reading the tiny notes Minseok had written around the sketch.
“They are nothing. Just doodles, I guess,” Minseok says from his spot, not daring to move. He breathes in and out slowly, trying to press his anxiety down. Lu Han is now digging through his most secret passion, something so private, he never even dares saying it out loud, because this dream had perished long a go.
“Most of them either oval shaped or curved,” Lu Han notices.
“I don’t like right angles,” Minseok admits, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves.
“If only that thought would apply to real life too. You’d be a much happier person,” Lu Han says, sticking the pieces of paper back to the corkboard. “Let me guess, architecture was too uncertain. So you picked accounting because that would guarantee you a spot at your father’s company?”
“You got me.” Minseok raises both hands in the hair in surrender.
Lu Han sighs, casually making his way back to the couch. “Well, if you’re happy now. Who am I to judge, right?”
But I’m not happy. And I’m too scared to do anything about it. Minseok wants to say, but the words die at the tip of his tongue as he watches Lu Han take off his sneakers, his socks, his jacket, and finally his shirt, his soft skin rubbing against smooth fabric of the white couch.
“I won’t say I wasn’t mad at you for not telling your parents about me. About us. But it’s not my right to say anything. I can’t drag you out of the closet. It has to be your decision,” Lu Han explains, hands coming to unbutton his jeans. “But right now I don’t care about anything. I just. I missed you so much.”
Minseok immediately stands up, coming to meet Lu Han in the couch. His hands explode the expanse of Lu Han’s skin, palms gliding over his back as he lets himself recover from the absence. His entire body craves Lu Han like an addict aches for a hit.
Lu Han lifts Minseok’s shirt over his head, coming down to lay his lips over Minseok’s chest, he makes his way up slowly, eventually finding his lips and pushing Minseok down, his neck falling softly on the armrest. Lu Han straddles Minseok under him, and the fabric of their jeans become too much. After a few clumsy tries, they manage to wiggle out of their pants, skin now gluing against skin as Lu Han’s hips set the pace. He leans down to place open mouthed kisses over Minseok’s stomach and the other feels his insides warm up, heat coiling at the bottom of his stomach as Lu Han goes lower, lips resting wet over the spot under his bellybutton.
Lu Han teases, like he always does. Kissing the insides of Minseok’s thighs and slowly removing his boxers, taking his time and driving Minseok wild. He loves it, though. Every minute of it. He takes Minseok into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, and letting out obscene moans. Minseok knows his boyfriend likes to make a scene. Lu Han doesn’t reprimand himself. He’s transparent. He broadcasts his feelings to anyone who would take the time to listen.
Minseok digs his hands into Lu Han’s sandy blonde hair, calling his name a few times. His hips buck as Lu Han’s tongue works its magic, and Minseok unconsciously allows a stream of profanities roll off his tongue. He drops his head over the armrest, taking in big gulps of air. And to think that a few minutes ago he had been almost pulling his hair out, thinking that their relationship was hanging by a thread. Now, Lu Han takes absolute control over him as Minseok slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his own moans.
His orgasm washes over him like a wave, drowning his self-awareness as he shuddered, letting out a loud groan of Lu Han’s name. The writer smirks as he comes up to kiss Minseok’s mouth, languid and unhurried.
“I told you I’d make it up to you,” Lu Han mutters, lips one inch away from Minseok. “Happy birthday, Minseok.”
He laughs, not caring for the mess they made in the living room, forgetting about the many barriers they still have to cross. Relationships are hard work, Minseok realizes. But he’s willing to make the commitment.
“I love you,” he finally says it back. Lu Han beams above him, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Thank you for letting me in your life,” Lu Han says deliberately, before placing a loud peck on Minseok’s lips. “Thank you for making the effort. I know this isn’t easy.”
Minseok hides a stand of loose hair behind Lu Han’s ear, looking at him with hooded eyes. “You’re worth it.”
Lu Han smiles again, wider this time. Minseok sits up, wrapping a strong arm around Lu Han’s bare torso. He rests his forehead on Lu Han’s shoulder, letting out a long breath between his lips. Lu Han kisses the top of his head.
Minseok’s anxieties begin to torture him again, crawling over his skin as he thinks about the three powerful words that had just escaped his lips.
PART THREE