[fic] saudade ; xiuhan 3/4
The next day, Minseok wakes up to the smell of eggs and bacon. He swings his legs off the bed and follows the aroma to his kitchen, where he finds Lu Han humming a tune as he cracks yet another egg into the skillet. The scene does trigger his nerves a bit. There are ingredients scattered all over the counter and spilled milk on his floor. He takes a deep breath, pushing down the urge to scream.
Lu Han turns to grab the saltshaker and he notices Minseok’s presence for the first time. He halts, and the only sound hanging over them is the quiet popping of the eggs in the frying pan.
“I wanted to make you breakfast,” Lu Han says, almost apologetic. The tone causes Minseok’s heart to cave in. He smiles in return.
“I see,” he answers, biting his lower bit. “Carry on, then. I’m gonna take a shower.”
Relief colors Lu Han’s expression as he nods excitedly, turning his attention back to the eggs and mouthing a curse in Chinese when his fingers curl around the scorching hot handle.
Minseok carries on with his regular routine. He scrubs his skin under the hot shower, following a set order. When he’s done, he brushes his teeth twice, shaves, and washes his face with product. The reflection in the foggy mirror shows a man far too self conscious and terribly insecure. He thinks about the events from last night and his less than courageous act with Lu Han and his parents. They are already exchanging I love you’s and Minseok still keeps Lu Han hidden under a mat of his self-doubt. Maybe things were happening a bit to fast. His reflection seems nervous, confused, and a bit desperate.
But mirrors do tend to show the truth.
When he walks into the living room, Lu Han’s already is setting the table, using the wrong ware, of course. But Minseok pretends he doesn’t notice.
They eat quietly and Minseok tries to ignore the ringing inside his head. Lu Han reads the news on his tablet, fingers gliding over the screen, and leaving oil marks all over it. Minseok scratches his hands nervously under the table, trying to ignore the mess in the kitchen, the noise Lu Han makes as he chews, and the sound of his own voice from the night before replaying in an endless loop.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you…
Do I really?
“Can we talk?” Minseok spills, letting his fork cling against his plate. Lu Han’s eyes dart up immediately as he absorbs Minseok’s urgent tone.
“Sure,” Lu Han replies a little shaken, rubbing a napkin over his lips and dropping his tablet back on the table. He looks at Minseok warily, blinking a few times before dropping his gaze back to his plate. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Minseok is quick to say. He clears his throat, as if trying to clear away passage for his thoughts. “It’s just. I’ve been thinking. Don’t you think things are just happening way too fast? With us, I mean.”
Lu Han’s eyes shift across the room. “What are you saying?”
“You know. We’ve known each other for three months and we’re already-," he stops mid-sentence, sensing Lu Han’s burning gaze. “So comfortable.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Lu Han laughs nervously. “I do feel very confortable around you. Like I never been with anyone else, for that matter.”
Minseok immediately wants to backpedal out of this entire conversation.
“It’s just. I don’t know. I don’t want us to burn out.” He finally says it, eyes down on the carpet, noticing a few breadcrumbs gathering in a spot by his feet. He inhales sharply, feeling his hands tremble.
Lu Han hums in response, raising an eyebrow curiously. “So relationships have expiration dates with you?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying, Minseok?”
Lu Han’s eyes are menacing, a complete flip from the sweet and loving gazes from a few minutes ago. He stares Minseok down, demanding an answer. The words cling to Minseok’s throat, fiery inside his mouth. He swallows hard, running a hand over his face.
“Is this because you said you loved me last night?”
As always, Lu Han’s very perceptive. He feeds on body language, dissecting Minseok down to the spine. Minseok screws his eyes shut, but he can still see it. Lu Han’s piercing stare. The dirty pans in the kitchen skin. The spilled milk over the tiles. The dirt marks on the mat by the front door. Lu Han’s shirt hanging over the sofa. The crumbling state of his own sanity.
“Minseok. Please. Look at me.”
He opens his eyes slowly, finding Lu Han gawking at him. His bottom lip trembles as he draws in a breath, waiting for Minseok to say something, but the words never come. The walls of the imaginary palace he had built around them collapse over their heads.
Happiness ends.
“Whatever I did to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry,” Lu Han says, breaking the silence. “I really am. I’m very open about my feelings. I didn’t want to push you into saying something you didn’t mean.”
“It’s not like that I just-”
“Don’t. It’s fine. And maybe you’re right. Maybe we do need to take things slow.”
Lu Han rises from the table, immediately snatching his shirt from the white sofa and dragging it over his head. All Minseok is able to do is watch as he quickly collects his things, sniffling back a sob when he pulls his suitcase to the door.
“I was going to tell you at breakfast.” He turns over to Minseok, but his eyes never leave the ground. “My agent called me this morning. We are flying to New York tomorrow. There’s a publisher there that wants my book.”
Minseok nods pathetically, his hands curl over his knees, fidgeting wildly. “That’s-That’s amazing.”
“I know,” Lu Han says, gulping back a sob. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be away. Maybe week? But that we’ll give us sometime apart. You know. To think.” Lu Han’s fingers coil over the doorknob, it clangs rowdily before creaking open. “We’ll talk when I get back.”
“Okay,” Minseok answers meekly, trying to send a weak smile in Lu Han’s direction. “Call me.”
Lu Han nods before disappearing through the door.
As soon as it closes, Minseok enters an obsessive state, immediately getting up from his seat and marching into kitchen, opening the cabinet with all the cleaning products. He scrubs the tiles until his hands burn with the chemicals, repeating everything at least three times before moving on to something else, vowing to leave the place sterile.
On top of his coffee table, a familiar figure returns to decorate it. The small deer figurine now sits right in the middle, and Minseok feels his insides turn. He grabs the wooden ornament and throws it against the wall, watching it as it falls, cracked into pieces on the carpet.
--
Lu Han’s absence is painfully obvious. He checks his phone every five minutes or so, waiting for a message to come in.
It doesn’t.
He thinks back to his first week with Lu Han, remembering how he had felt back then. Seems like a million years a go now. That fire that burned strong inside his heart, consuming his entire being and intoxicating his senses, now blazes low and weak. He felt like he was being led in the dark, a hand latched tightly around his wrist, dragging him into unknown territory, a labyrinth, which Minseok doesn’t know how to navigate alone.
Now he stands at a dead end, walls closing in on him by the minute.
--
“Ouch. That's rough.”
Jongdae’s mouth twists as soon as he hears Minseok’s sob story. They sit opposite to each other at a coffee shop, both of them deciding to skip lunch for something lighter. Unexpectedly, Minseok finds it very easy to share his troubles with his friend. Jongdae listens attentively, fingers drumming nervously around his coffee mug.
“I’m sure Lu Han’s a very nice guy. It’s just his type. Particularly writers. They fall in love way too easily. Because they are in love with, well, being in love. They don’t know how to like things, or people, casually,” Jongdae describes, looking at Minseok with sympathy. “It’s always a shock for them when people don’t exactly retributive these effervescent emotions. They feel stupid.”
“Stupid for what?” Minseok asks.
“For loving too much.”
“How did you become an expert on the subject?” Minseok asks nosily.
Jongdae rolls his eyes. “You forget I went to art school for a while, dreaming of being a singer. I was surrounded by people like Lu Han. And ended up dating a few of them. But then, I got sick of getting my heart broken. Now I date lawyers. Accountants. Bankers. They have their feelings all sorted all. Not to mention, their financial situation is a hell of a lot better.”
Minseok snorts, stirring more cream into his coffee, watching as the black turned light brown after a couple of movements with his spoon. Jongdae reaches over the table, fingers lightly ghosting over Minseok’s.
“Are you gonna be okay?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
“Yeah,” Minseok lies. “We’ll sort it out.”
“Either way, this experience will be good for you. You’re putting yourself out there. Feeling vulnerable. Is it scary? Yes. But at least you’re actually living.”
Jongdae takes another sip from his black coffee, the bitter taste showing in his face for a bit. Swiftly, his expression changes and he leans in, looking at Minseok as if he’s about to tell him a life altering secret.
“If you need a bit of cheering up, Joonmyun and I are having a Harry Potter marathon this weekend. We have this drinking game where every time there’s obvious foreshadowing we take a shot,” Jongdae says enthusiastically, smiling wide at Minseok.
“I’m gonna pass,” Minseok retorts, and Jongdae frowns but comprehends. He gives Minseok a wink and a pat on the shoulder.
“Be kind to yourself, okay?” Jongdae says, eyeing the chemical burn marks over Minseok’s knuckles. He shoves his hands down his pockets, smiling mechanically towards the man sitting across from him.
“I’ll try.”
--
By Wednesday, Minseok can’t feel his fingertips anymore and his knees bleed from the friction against the floor. He feels himself spiraling out of control.
After work, he sits on the floor, looking at his wrecked fingernails, wondering how he got himself in this nightmare. Heaven and Hell blend together in his mind, and he recalls each second of the past three months, dissecting the times where he had felt his heart go out of pace each time Lu Han looked at him through his eyelashes, lips curved into a sly smile as he spoke of fantasy and dreams.
There’s a noose hanging loose around his throat, slowly becoming tighter. Is falling in love suppose to be so terrifying?
Minseok had nothing and Lu Han gave him everything. And what has he given Lu Han in return? What has he done to nurture their relationship? Tiny steps that felt almost nonexistent next to Lu Han’s dedication. Lu Han gives himself freely, sprinkling seeds all over Minseok’s life, watching as flowers bloom all around him, adding pure joy to his existence without Minseok even noticing.
The tiny deer, glued back together by duct tape, glares at Minseok from the coffee table.
“I’ll try harder,” he whispers to it.
--
Love is not like the numbers he sees every day on his computer screen. Love is not tangible. It’s abstract. Its definition varies from person to person. It carries a different weight in each heart it touches.
He’s never been so scared before in his life. Terrified of his own emotions, stumbling on stones as he runs back to his safe zone. It’s at this moment, when Minseok’s walking back home from work with thunderclouds as his sole company, that he realizes that he has been running his entire life.
All main characters from fantastical adventures pass through a state in which they are frightened, the weight of their journey falling heavily on their backs. Minseok feels the maze melt around him, and the path becomes painfully obvious.
He doesn’t know if what he feels is, in fact, love but he’s willing to stay on this journey
Minseok quickens his pace, feeling a bit lightheaded but his resolve doesn’t falter. Instead of running back to his flat, he follows the main road towards the local market. At the entrance, there’s a lady that sells flowers, which Minseok passes by every day. Today, he stops in front of her and asks for a dozen lilies.
Lu Han’s favorite.
--
Another week goes by.
The flowers wither.
--
The numbers on the alarm clock burn Minseok’s eyes, red and mocking, showing him as the hours go by and sleep doesn’t come. There’s a ghost beside him in his bed. The weight of a body that still haunts his senses. He turns and tosses, feeling the hollow space beside him. Sheets tangle at his knees as he hold on to pillow so tightly the fabric begins to tear.
The red numbers mark three in the morning. Minseok rolls on his back, and stares at the ceiling. He wants to be given a chance. Another shot, maybe. A way back into paradise.
Just as his eyes begin to close with the memory of Lu Han’s scent flooding his nose, there’s a buzz on his on his nightstand.
He jolts up to a sitting positing, his heart doing backflips inside his chest. He reaches for his nightlight, and finding his BlackBerry crawling over the stand’s surface with an incoming call.
Minseok doesn’t even look at the screen before answering.
“Lu Han?”
There’s a pause, followed by the heart wrenching sounds of a woman crying. He recognizes that voice immediately, and his breath catches as he tries to respond.
“Mom?” His eyes fill up with anxious tears. The woman’s far too hysterical to form words. Her cries turn into infinite pleas of Minseok’s name, and all he’s able to do is cry with her, his insides twisting in agony as he listens to her sobs.
“It’s your father. I can’t do this alone.”
Minseok slides off the bed, his body hitting the floor with a thud. He cries openly now, deciphering his mother’s pain and feeling himself break apart little by little.
“Minseok,” she virtually screams desperately in the other end of the line. The sound pierces Minseok’s ear, causing him to shiver. Minseok’s mother never cried in front of him, as she considered it to be a sign of weakness. He’s terrified, curling his body on the cold floor, as broken sobs burned at his throat.
She stops for a moment, as if trying to collect herself. There’s a string of raw coughs and wheezes, and all Minseok can at the moment do is listen.
“Your father is dead.”
--
It takes him a whole day to make arrangements. Minseok reacts mechanically, not exactly dealing with the news yet, as everything appears to be too surreal and far away. When he boards the flight to Nassau, there’s a gapping hole inside him, becoming larger by the hour.
At the airport, he’s welcomed by his mother’s desperate embrace, and as soon as he feels the woman’s hands clinging to him for dear life, Minseok wants to break down. The ground under his feet has been pulled.
The details start coming in during the car ride to his parents newly purchased estate. His father had suffered a heart attack while jogging alone at night. By the time he had been taken to the hospital it was too late. His mother goes through the information slowly, pausing between words, and if they hurt, the syllables a reminder that this isn't just some awful nightmare. Their eyes are wide open, and there’s a new reality to be dealt with, one which both of them can’t seem to get a hold of. Gravity becomes a far-fetched concept.
It was his fathers wishes to be cremated, ashes scattered over the ocean. A humble fisherman takes them on his boat to one of his father’s favorite beaches. The man speaks beautiful words, revealing a close-knit relationship with Minseok’s father. His mother listens quietly, letting tears stain her cheeks as Minseok throws the ashes overboard, saying goodbye to his beloved father one last time. He watches as the wind and the tide take his father’s remains away, picturing the man’s loud laughter and wide smiles in his mind.
Night comes, and Minseok sits alone in the sand with eyes closed, listening to the waves crash in the shore. He tries to picture his father sitting in that exact same spot, maybe reading a book or having a glass of his favorite wine. He had been very happy here, Minseok is sure of that. There are pieces of him scattered all over the house, memories that will linger in every corner forever. His mother comes from inside the house, holding a piece of paper. She takes a sit next to Minseok, leaning her head on his shoulder.
She hands him the paper without saying a word. It takes a while for Minseok to read the typed words on the page, but he recognizes his father’s seal at the bottom of the document. It only takes two sentences for him to realize what it is that he’s holding.
“He always talked about this day. You always told him that this was your dream. He wanted to make that come true for you,” his mother says, looking at Minseok proudly. “He would have done this sooner, but he had me babbling in his ear for the last two years. Telling him that you deserved a chance to be young. To explore other options.” She smiles weakly and holds Minseok’s hand tightly. “He was so proud of you. Never forget that.”
Minseok’s eyes never leave the document. At that moment, he holds his entire life’s goal in his hands. He had visions about this particular event, visualizing his father giving him the keys to the office, introducing him to the company as their new chief. It doesn’t seem right or fair for him to sit in that chair and lead the company without his father at his side.
There’s a sick feeling in his stomach, for there’s an entire wall in Minseok’s apartment dedicated to broken and forgotten dreams, which his father never knew about. Aspirations that he’d never shared, things that he felt like he should have said, but decided to keep quiet, thinking that he had forever.
Minseok kisses his mother’s forehead. “I’ll never forget.”
The salty air burns his throat as he gulps a sob, trying to keep himself together for his mother’s sake. A heavy weight falls on his shoulders as his eyes scan the document one more time. The achievement tastes bitter, and he couldn’t help but think of the corkboard on his living room, the cemetery of dead dreams.
--
Part of himself stays back at The Bahamas as he rips away from his mother’s loving arms. Minseok asks if she’d like to come back with him, staying at his place for a little while. The woman shakes her head with a smile, saying that she could never part from this place.
“That would be like parting from your father again,” she confesses. “I could never do that.”
Minseok boards the plane with a heavy heart, but respects her wishes. He vows to return as soon as possible, and to check on her often. But he knows his mother’s strength and tells himself not to worry too much.
Exhaustion tears him down slowly and he succumbs to it about two hours into the flight, letting his head rest on the window, thinking about better times and childhood memories that lead him into sleep filled with bittersweet dreams.
Attached to document that transferred ownership of the firm into Minseok’s hands, there was a letter from his father. In it, the man tells his son about the changes in his life. He explains how he went from being a workaholic, to a fulfilled man, enjoying the last years of his life next to the woman he loves, exploring the world and finding happiness in the simplest things in life.
In the last paragraph, his father urges Minseok to find happiness outside the office, and learn the true meaning of a stable life. Don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty, the letter says. Life is an adventure. Go live it.
At Incheon, Minseok catches a friendly face waiting for him at the arrivals terminal. Still wearing his tailored work suit, Jongdae virtually grabs Minseok by the arm, locking him down into a bone-crushing hug. Joonmyun stands beside him, giving Minseok a few friendly pats on the back.
“I’m so sorry,” Jongdae says, finally pulling away. “Mr. Jung told us everything. I know you said you didn’t want anyone-"
“I’m glad you’re here,” Minseok interrupts him, the corner of his lips curl languidly into a smile. Jongdae’s hand rests on Minseok’s shoulder, giving his friend a few comforting squeezes before ushering him to the parking garage.
Joonmyun takes Minseok’s bag, and he protests for a bit, but the young lawyer is having none of it. He pulls the light, red suitcase through the parking garage with great pride. Jongdae’s hands never leave Minseok’s arm, he leads him through the area, giving him a few reassuring looks. When they reach a red BMW (Joonmyun’s flashy ride, of course), Minseok makes sure look at Jongdae straight in the eyes before getting in the car.
“I’m okay,” he whispers to his friend. “Really.”
Jongdae sighs, shaking his head a few times before opening the door to the passenger seat. “I might have done something that you might not like.”
Minseok’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see,” he answers, a faint smirk forming on his lips before he enters the car.
--
The elevator ride brings Minseok a strange sense of veracity. His brain processes the events of the past week as factual, settling the memories before his eyes and replaying them like a movie, repeating each moment. He remembers the ocean, the ashes, the words of the fisherman, and most of all, he recalls his mother’s desperate cries over the phone, a frightening start to a series of events that would change his entire life forever.
The doors beep open and Minseok makes his way down the corridor, following the patterned tiles on the floor to his door. He finds it strange that while he was away, he never missed his place, maybe because his flat was never really a home to begin with.
It always takes a few jiggles; three to be exact, before the key finally turns, unlocking the door with a loud pop. The door creaks open, and he lifts his bag off the ground so that the wheels wouldn’t scratch the floor.
There’s a tiny light coming from his living room. Minseok stands in the doorway petrified, craning his neck to peer inside the half-lit flat.
A dark blonde head sits on his white couch, turning slowly to face him. Minseok’s heart almost stops.
Lu Han’s eyes widen and he lurches off the couch, standing on shaking legs. Shy tears begin to spill off the corners of his eyes, as he springs towards the doorway, immediately crashing into Minseok and gripping his body into a fierce embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, head buried in Minseok’s shirt. “I should have been here for you. I’m so sorry.”
Minseok’s hand caresses the top of Lu Han’s head almost out of habit. The warmth of Lu Han’s body causes Minseok’s heart to crumble into a million pieces, and he finds himself crying as well. A million different words rush through his tired mind, none of them making any actual sense. Emotions clash and splatter all over him.
Lu Han pulls him inside, bringing them to the couch. Minseok’s forehead finds a comforting stop on the crook of Lu Han’s neck as he begins to sob openly. Maybe he’s finally allowing himself to grief, letting all the walls collapse.
“My father was my hero,” Minseok says, sitting back on the couch as Lu Han’s hands rest on either side of his face. “He was invincible. This wasn’t suppose to happen.”
Lu Han’s bottom lip trembles and he takes in a sharp breath, slowly exhaling through his nose. Minseok sees a familiar picture there; Lu Han’s trying to hold himself together, to be strong for him.
“I’m glad I got to meet him.” Lu Han’s words pierce Minseok’s chest like a spear. He wishes he’d been more courageous. His father died without knowing a big part of Minseok’s life. A regret he’ll take to his own grave.
“I lied to him, Lu Han,” Minseok confesses. “I told him my dream was to take over the accounting firm but-,” his eyes trail off to the corkboard behind Lu Han’s head. Old reveries stick to it, pages already curling at the corners with time, lying forgotten.
Minseok remembers a time when he’d smile, picturing himself creating beautiful constructions that would decorate cities all around the word, vowing to have his own unique style, so that anyone who walks past his work could recognize it at the blink of an eye. So many castles he had built in his mind, lavish skyscrapers that would defy everything. All of it, the daring courage, the creativity, and most of all, the ambition, died as soon as he had stepped out into the world.
So he tells his parents a new dream, one he has been trying to convince himself of for the past eight years.
“It’s not too late,” Lu Han says, drying his tears on his long sleeves.
Minseok shakes his head, averting Lu Han’s hopeful gaze. “I have a commitment to my father’s memory now. I can’t turn back.”
Lu Han nods supportively, holding Minseok’s hand and bringing it up to his lips. He pulls Minseok’s into his arms again, stroking his hair softly, listening to the other’s quiet sobs.
Minseok feels at home.
--
The night is warm and Minseok forgets summer is near. April might as well have never existence in his calendar. It came and went, bringing nothing but uncertainty and agony. Nevertheless, from suffering comes rebirth, and he tries to mend the pieces of himself together to face this new phrase in his life.
He peers at Lu Han with furrowed eyebrows, as the writer fidgets with the zipper of an horrid mustard jumper, the same one he was wearing the night they met, a million years a go, when his life was anything but complicated.
“We’re okay, right?” Minseok asks, his voice coming out cracked and hoarse from crying.
Lu Han assents, looking up at him from his stop on the floor. “Yeah,” he answers quietly. “I have something to show you.”
He rolls his long sleeve up to his elbow, stretching his arm out in Minseok’s direction. On the inside part of Lu Han’s right wrist there’s fresh ink, black letters still healing on top of a patch of slightly ruby skin. The script is elegant, and Minseok tries to put the letters together, one simple word forming slowly on his lips.
“Saudade,” he pronounces it unconfidently.
Lu Han nods, coiling his arm back and letting it at his side. “The feeling of longing for something or someone that you love and which is lost,” he explains, his eyes glued to Minseok’s.
“When did you get this done?” Minseok wonders. By the look of it, the tattoo’s very new.
“About three days ago in New York. My agent, Jongin, had to hold my hand throughout the whole thing. It wasn’t pretty.” A blush creeps up Lu Han’s neck, and his eyes drop to the spotless hardwood floor. “I got it done because I finally understood the meaning. I felt it.”
Lu Han climbs into the couch, and their legs touch, Lu Han’s knees brush against Minseok’s thigh. The closeness feels natural again, there’s no pressure, no noose over Minseok’s neck. Lu Han’s fingers travel up Minseok’s arm, and he beings to fiddle with his earlobe.
“I missed you so much,” Lu Han confesses, words coming out breathless as his eyes engulf Minseok whole, as if he were about to disappear from his sight at any moment.
The moment is sealed with a gentle kiss, Lu Han’s lips feel heartfelt and soothing against Minseok’s cracked ones. Lu Han nibbles on his lower lip, the touch is incredibly soft and tender. He breathes in Minseok’s scent, and the other does the same, taking in the sugary smell of Lu Han’s shampoo. Green apple, maybe a little cinnamon too.
A heavy anchor falls deep into the depths of Minseok’s heart.
--
May is all about change. Minseok adapts and rebuilds. The month brings new challenges, responsibilities that keep him awake at night along with the grief due to the loss of a parent. It’s too much too soon.
He wastes no time in taking over the firm. His father’s document states that Jung Yunho, the current CEO, must stay for at least two years as an advisor, guiding Minseok through these new waters. The man spends countless hours at Minsoek’s side, performing his role beautifully, and Minseok thanks him every single day for each and every important advice he gives him.
It’s incredibly odd, sitting on that chair, having a completely different perspective of the business. He doesn’t crunch numbers anymore, there’s a whole different world to be explored. One he’s not sure he’s ready to take on, and waking up in the morning to go to work becomes harder every day.
That’s when the nightmares start.
It’s always the same. Minseok’s alone, engulfed by sinking sand, his entire body is paralyzed and his hands are bound behind his back. He cries for help but no one comes. Slowly, he sinks deeper, and panic rises from his stomach up to his lungs as he struggles to breathe. When the sand is up to his neck, he wakes up screaming.
One weekend, it happens while Lu Han is over, and he couldn’t bring himself to explain. He just buries his face in Lu Han’s shirt, crying desperately. Minseok’s sure Lu Han feels powerless, but he doesn’t press for answers. He simply holds Minseok and waits for him to fall back asleep.
--
Minseok’s hours now drag on past midnight. He pours himself another cup of coffee, closing his eyes for just one second as he leans back in his chair. There’s that fear again, eating him up from the inside. He feels incompetent, a downright failure. His father had trusted him with that position, and no matter how hard he pushes himself, there’s nothing about it that brings any kind of compensation. His other job was, for a lack of a better word, tolerable. Being CEO means having full responsibly of his client’s financial state directly on his shoulders. It means going into meetings and selling dreams he doesn’t believe in, befriending people he’d never associate himself with. Worst of all, sitting behind that desk means living in fear. One tiny mistake and, in one second, everything could go to hell.
And then there’s Yunho, trying his best to be supportive. Minseok knows that the man worries constantly about him. It’s clear in the way he lingers behind, ignoring his own lunch hour to assist Minseok in any way. There are times when Yunho closes the door of the office, lowering his voice, and attempting to search through Minseok’s lifeless eyes.
That afternoon, he had sat in front of him, watching as Minseok took call after call, repeating the same words to different clients. There was a moment of quietness, and Yunho had taken advantage of it to snap Minseok’s cellphone away from his grasp, looking at him deep in the eyes as he shook his head.
“You’re going to snap,” he had said, his voice sounded stern. “At this rate, it won’t take too long. This is not what you father wanted for you.”
Minseok chuckled darkly, taking his phone back in one sharp movement. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“I see it every time you step inside his office. You’re walking time bomb,” Yunho warned, the words echoed around Minseok’s mind. Deep down, he knew the man was right, but he’d never admit it. Giving up now would be defeat. It meant disappointing his father.
“You don’t have to be here when it explodes,” Minseok hissed back.
Yunho sighed, looking at Minseok with frustration in his eyes. “Balance, Minseok. You’re tipping the scale.”
With that, he left the office, slamming the glass door on his way out.
Minseok recounts the incident, feeling Yunho’s words seeping through his skin. It’s the last day of May, and Minseok wonders how much longer he can take.
A door closes inside of him, letting a wound fester, spreading indifference through his veins. Cold walls rise, encircling his heart, in an attempt to protect him from further disillusionment.
--
Minseok still has the weekends, the two days, which he holds exclusively for Lu Han. The writer quickly becomes aware of Minseok’s change in attitude, but for a while, pretends nothing’s out of the ordinary. They still watch movies together, share meals, make vague plans for future travels. Lu Han sticks a final release date of his book to Minseok’s calendar, circling August 22nd with a red marker as he smiles proudly. He reveals no details of the plot of the novel, not even title. It’s all supposed to be a surprise.
It’s all in the small details, tiny gestures that show a hidden taciturn demeanor, and a distance that pushes Lu Han over the edge. Before, they’d take walks around the neighborhood, and Minseok’s hand would instinctively find Lu Han’s in the dark, lacing their fingers together in a way that says I want you near me, regardless of what people think. That particular Saturday however, Minseok shrugs away from Lu Han’s grasp.
“Something’s off,” Lu Han says, suddenly stopping. The late afternoon sun ignites the despair on his expression, and the shadows from the trees of the park create a divide between them, a dark pattern on the ground that separates Lu Han’s worry from Minseok’s silent apathy.
Minseok sees no way out of this conversation, so he just stands in his spot, hands digging inside the pockets of his pants. His posture is faultless, showing the perfect picture of a man of power, a façade learned from observation after spending hours in meetings with other influential men. Under the layers of fake empowerment, there was a broken boy, trying to fit shoes too big for him. But he holds his ground, looking at Lu Han with cold eyes. A soft breeze blows Lu Han’s hair into his face, covering his inquisitive stare.
“We shouldn’t be out here while the sun is up. Someone from my work might see us,” Minseok utters in the most cynical manner, spewing out venom as a test. Minseok’s new life comes with a fresh set of rules.
Lu Han scoffs sarcastically, marching back to Minseok’s side, crossing the shadows and knocking down all the walls the man constructs out of fear. His hands reach Minseok’s cheeks, fingers ghosting over the heated, blushing skin, as he closes the distance between them. Minseok befalls static, unresponsive to Lu Han’s lips gliding over his. The writer peppers kisses all over Minseok’s cheeks, even on the tip of his nose, and tiny giggles fill in the spaces between every touch of lips. Minseok couldn’t help but join in.
“I’m not ashamed. And you shouldn't be either,” Lu Han whispers.
Minseok wraps up his qualms and sets them aside for now, letting Lu Han’s enchanting nature divert his attention for the time being.
After all, all people ever do is disappoint others, even their loved ones. He wonders when Lu Han’s time will come.
--
A strong rainstorm drowns the city that Sunday afternoon. Lightning rips the sky open, as they sit in the dark of Lu Han’s apartment, waiting for the electricity to return. Lu Han owns no candles, not even a flashlight, so they wait for each flash to be able to look at each other’s eyes. The writer is visibly scared, holding Minseok by the arm and wincing at sounds loud of thunder.
“Aren’t you a little old to be scared of thunderstorms?” Minseok mocks, feeling Lu Han’s grasp on his upper arm become even tighter when his living room floods with light. The potent clash of thunder comes soon after, causing Lu Han to jump into Minseok’s arms like a scared child.
“It’s my only weakness,” Lu Han confesses, wrapping his legs around Minseok’s torso, trembling hands coming up to caress his nape. Their bodies are pasted together, and Minseok could feel Lu Han’s heart pounding in his chest. He strokes his hair, just as Lu Han had done the night we had woken up shrieking due to his nightmare.
Lu Han’s fingertips dig inside Minseok’s shirt, carefully drawing invisible pictures on his skin. His lips fall on Minseok’s neck, kissing his Adam’s apple, his chin, and finally reaching his lips. There’s a soft urgency to Lu Han’s actions, as if the writer begs with each touch.
“I need a distraction,” Lu Han breathes on his ear, hands navigating down to the band of Minseok’s jeans. “Please.”
Minseok doesn’t respond to Lu Han’s touches, he simply allows him to remove his shirt, lips covering the expanse of his chest. Lu Han’s breath is hot and staggered, as he tries to ignore the rumbling coming from the sky outside. He traces Minseok’s collarbones with his bottom lip, pulling down the zipper of his jeans. He looks up at Minseok, finding nothing but blank eyes.
The desire is there, however, driven by fear, Minseok choses to close himself off completely. He thinks about all the people that had disappeared from his life, a sea of faces now unknown, and one day Lu Han would join them. There are chains enclosing his heart, constrictions built by time. Lu Han manages to pull some of them away, but the wounds would never heal. Now, with all the current disappointments in his life, Minseok unconsciously picks the safety of solitude once again.
So, he pushes Lu Han away, as gently as possible, pressing warm hands to his shoulders. Lu Han’s gaze pierces him through the darkness, mouth opening and closing, as if words failed him.
The lights flicker back on, and Minseok clears his throat awkwardly. The storm begins to move away, and the growls of thunder become faint in the background.
“I should go,” he announces, grabbing his shirt from the floor.
Lu Han’s eyes wander around the room, and the wraps both arms around himself, clear shame controlling his body language.
“Lu Han-”
“It’s fine, Minseok. I’m fine,” Lu Han lies, lips curving into a fake smile.
Minseok nods, swinging his bag over his shoulder and showing himself out the door.
--
June is scorching.
Sweat beads on Minseok’s forehead as he walks to the office, burning up under the layers of his work clothes. He goes through the revolving doors, sighing in relief when the cool air of the AC hits his face as he enters the lobby.
As soon as he steps out of the elevator, he meets an ocean of flustered faces peering over their cubicles. Whispers slowly fade out as he walks through the main corridor, and he quickens his pace in panic. There’s something terribly wrong.
Jongdae appears in front of him, face scrounged up in agony as he attempts to speak, before the words make it out of his mouth, Yunho opens the door to his office, urging Minseok to come inside.
“There’s been a problem,” he says simply, closing the door behind him.
Minseok feels his knees weaken and he lets his body fall in the nearest chair. “What sort of problem?”
“Massive,” Yunho responds, gather a few loose pages from his desk and pushing them into Minseok’s hands. “There’s been a leak.”
Minseok’s eyes scan the page. He holds a document showing details of a very important account. The owner is a powerful businessman, with a taste for high-end prostitutes. The firm’s responsible for the man’s business and personal finances. Now, compromising information about the entrepreneur's expensive double life had somehow leaked to the general public.
“How?”
“Damage is already done,” Yunho interrupts. “I already got people working on a statement. We’ll apologize and try to push this under the mat. Still, it’s barely 10am and we’re already receiving calls from other clients wanting to close their personal accounts.”
Minseok lets out a breath, his stares at Yunho with desperate eyes. “This could put us in the dirt for years. No one will trust us.”
Yunho shrugs. “All we can do for now is a bit of damage control.”
A thought flickers over Minseok’s eyes. “You did this.”
The man sitting across from him leans forwards, his eyes are dark and looming. He points his index finger over to Minseok, letting a few seconds of silence fall over them before speaking. “What makes you think I’m responsible for this?”
“You don’t think I’m fit to run this firm,” Minseok spews out, his entire body trembles, but he tries to remain calm. There’s so much on the line. “You leaked this information to make me look bad.”
Yunho jeers, conjuring a dismissive gesture. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Minseok rises from his seat, trying to keep his composure as his head pounds in anxiety. Everything fits. There’s a sudden click in his brain, and nothing could convince him otherwise. This was all part of a scheme to make him incapable of running his father’s company, a position that is his by right.
Yunho stares him down, eyes burning in anger. The man runs past Minseok, opening the glass door of his office. “You’re clearly not in the right mind to deal with this situation. Go home, Minseok. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
Minseok now stands just a few inches away from Yunho’s face. He won’t back down. Walking away now means accepting defeat. “This is my company. And I think your time is up, Mr. Jung.”
Now the entire office pries on their conversation, curious faces watch from their cubicles, phone calls go unanswered, and the endless sound of typing ceases. All the employees hold their breath collectively. One in particular stands very near, Jongdae, who looks at Minseok with a worried expression, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Think about what you’re doing, Minseok. Would your father want this?” Yunho threatens, his words echo around the office.
“Leave my father out of this,” Minseok bellows, angry tears flood his eyes, and his posture changes. The ocean is far too big, and he rows a tiny boat, rocking amidst the violent tide. Waves hit him on either side, throwing salt water over his wounds. Now, the boat overturns, his body sinks like a rock, straight down to the bottom. Still, he struggles, and his lungs burn as he breathes in water. He can’t let himself die. This can’t be the end.
“You’re fired, Mr. Jung,” Minseok announces, voice shaking with rage. The employees let out a collective gasp.
Yunho simply nods, seeming at ease with the decision. The man fixes his tie, giving the workers in the cubicles one more look before grabbing his briefcase, and calmly marching down the corridor, following the path to the elevator. When he’s out of their sight, mayhem overtakes the space. Fierce whisperers and panicked voices drown Minseok’s thoughts, and he stands petrified in the middle of it all.
“You’re making a mistake,” Jongdae suddenly says, and Minseok looks at him wide eyed. “Yunho had nothing to do with the leak. Out system was hacked-”
“Another word and you’ll be out the door too,” Minseok clips him, and Jongdae smirks in disdain.
“No need to make threats. I quit,” Jongdae storms, turning on his heels and following Yunho’s footsteps. Before the elevator’s doors open, he turns again, smiling this time. “What’s your plan, Minseok? Are you gonna push all the people that care about you out of your life?” He snorts, sounding disgusted. “I wonder if you’re happy now.”
Jongdae enters the elevator, lowering his eyes as the doors close, and Minseon’s left alone. Arms and legs kicking under the water, with no rope to pull him back to the surface.
He drowns.
--
At home, he rethinks the whole day. He had spent many hours meeting with a few of his clients, reassuring that the leak was a singular event, trying to salvage whatever he can of the personal accounts. The firm deals with extremely public and influential people, who can’t afford to put their careers on the line over the their secrets. Trust is a delicate thing.
Minseok takes out his frustrations on the kitchen tiles, scrubbing each and every corner as bleach burns his fingers. At least when he’s cleaning he doesn’t think, his body moves on its own accord, accustomed to the patterns he follows.
When the materials start to make the corners of his nails bleed, Minseok hears his front door squeak open, followed by a heavy keychain hitting the floor. He tosses the materials aside, dropping his bleeding hands under hot water. Lu Han appears in the kitchen short after, a surprised smile covering his lips.
“I’ve got great news,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “I had to come here in person. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
Unfortunately, Minseok’s mind is far too girdled in obsessive patterns to actually listen. He turns the water off, taking his blood stained fingers from the sink and wrapping them in a washing cloth. Lu Han watches in silence, noting the red seeping through the white fabric.
“Were you cleaning again?” Lu Han asks delicately, reaching a hand out to touch Minseok’s. The other shies away, hiding his hands behind his back.
“Tell me your news,” Minseok croaks, trying to suppress his emotions.
Lu Han’s gaze is dubious, but he drops his arm back to his side, an elated expression returns to his face. “My agent just got a call from the publishing house in New York. They want my book!” Lu Han laughs, pure joy ringing in sound as it reaches Minseok’s ears.
Minseok grins halfheartedly. “I’m really happy for you.”
Lu Han chuckles cynically in return, placing one hand on his hip. “That’s it?”
“What more do you want from me?” Minseok demands, throwing the blood-splattered washcloth in the sink and darting past Lu Han to the living room.
“How about we sit down and you tell me why you’ve been acting like a robot lately,” Lu Han rants, raising his voice a few decibels.
“Right, because everyone has to burst in emotions like you,” Minseok quips, his right eyebrow climbs a little higher up his forehead.
“Ever since you took that position-”
“I’m having a tough time at work. So what? Not like you’d know about that. You’ve never worked a day in your life,” Minseok interjects, and Lu Han paces in circles around the living area, letting out strangled groans with each step.
“Stop trying to make this about me,” Lu Han roars. “You’re miserable. Admit it.”
“I’ve been miserable my entire life,” Minseok exclaims, his nails dig into his palms as he curls his hands into tight fists. “You are not the solution to all my problems. You can’t cure me. Why are you even here?”
Lu Han sighs, raising both hands in the hair before letting them fall nosily on his thighs. “You know what? You’re right. You’re the only one who can do that. I’m here to help. Because I care about you,” Lu Han mutters, starring at his faint reflection on the hardwood floor. “I love you.”
“You don’t love me,” Minseok whispers.
“I wish that were true.” Lu Han takes a step into Minseok’s direction, but the other backs away. He covers his mouth with his hands, muffling his sobs. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Then leave.” Minseok makes his way to the door, wrapping his hand over the doorknob. “You’ve done it once. This time, don’t bother coming back.”
“Being alone won’t save you, Minseok,” Lu Han states, as he stands under the doorframe.
“Being with you won’t save me either,” he responds fiercely. “Give me your key.”
Lu Han slowly presses the small silver key into Minseok’s palms, he hold on to Minseok’s hand for a few seconds, examining the raw skin and dried blood forming around his nails. He leans down to press his lips over the wounds and Minseok stiffens, quickly pulling his hand back.
“You’re scared, Minseok. I can tell. This is the point where you can turn your life around. Stop running when things get difficult.” Lu Han points at Minseok’s wounded hands, gulping back a sob. “You’re hurting yourself.”
“I can’t live with uncertainty,” Minseok responds. There’s anger whirling all over his tone, but it isn’t directed at Lu Han. He’s angry with himself, again. And God knows, how what will he have to do to forget that.
“Nothing in life is certain,” Lu Han says, his voice wobbly as he looks at Minseok with teary eyes. “Only death.”
“And I’ll die alone in a bed made of regrets, just like you said.”
Lu Han crumbles in front of him, picking up pieces of himself as he walks away, turning every few seconds to send broken looks in Minseok’s direction. The man closes the door, turning the noisy lock twice to make sure it’s truly sealed.
And so it ends.
PART FOUR