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''I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Thursday. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them.’’
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Mingi has never liked Mondays.
Something he makes clear every week when Sunday rolls around, and Yunho finds him groaning into his pillow when he goes to slip underneath the sheets, mumbles consisting of why does the weekend go by so fast and I don’t want to go back to work spilling past his lips and into the silky fabric of his pillow.
What Mingi does like, however, is whenever he gets awoken by Yunho gently running his lanky fingers over his forehead, brushing away stray pieces of hair with soft and quiet mumbles of his name spilling past his lips.
''Mingi,’’ Yunho utters, hushed and carefully to not startle the man, "You have to get up, I made you coffee.’’
Yunho has always been the first one out of the two to leave the comfort of their bed, even when he desperately wishes not to and to let the warmth of the sheets and Mingi’s arm lazily thrown around his waist consume him for just a little longer.
But Yunho also knows that if he doesn’t get up, there’s no way Mingi will be getting up, either.
Therefore, he finds himself in the kitchen before Mingi’s alarm clock has even gone off — the same alarm Mingi will turn off and then proceed to go back to sleep, which makes it kind of useless in the first place, at least according to Yunho — with the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling their apartment and with a bowl of Mingi’s favorite cereal already prepared and placed on their kitchen counter.
Mingi slightly stirs in the sheets, brow lightly furrowing when Yunho’s thumb ghosts over his cheek, before his eyes eventually flutter open.
And Yunho can’t help the small smile that forms on his lips, even if he wanted to.
''Good morning, sleeping beauty.’’
Mingi, voice raspy and quiet from just waking up, huffs in response. ''Fuck off.’’
Yunho just hums in response when Mingi’s eyes flutter back shut, the smile still decorating his lips all the same when he uses his thumb to brush through Mingi’s eyebrow. ''What? You are a sleeping beauty, I can’t even be honest anymore?’’
The slight tug of the corner of Mingi’s lip doesn’t go unnoticed. "I look like shit,’’
Yunho hums, "Which is why you have to get up so you can take a shower.’’
Mingi opens his eyes then, squinted eyes meeting Yunho’s own before he leans forward to place a chaste kiss onto his forehead. If Mingi was about to say something, to tell him how mean he is, he never does when he leans into Yunho’s touch and settles for letting out a low hum in approval when Yunho kisses his forehead instead.
"Can’t we stay here for just a little longer?’’ The chuckle that leaves the back of Yunho’s throat gets muffled by his lips still being pressed against Mingi’s forehead, before he slightly pulls away to look at the man sprawled out beside him.
"I’d love to,’’ Yunho hums, hand coming back up to cup the side of Mingi’s face, "But then you won’t drink the coffee I made you because it’ll be too cold.’’
Mingi just looks at him, eyes still adjusting to the brightness coming from outside the blinds when one of his hands emerges out of the sheets to hold onto the hand cupping his face. "Can’t you just make me a new one?’’
A grin forms on his lips upon hearing the laugh that rumbles through Yunho’s chest, before he’s leaning forward and slotting his lips between Mingi’s in a quick, soft kiss. Mingi just hums into the kiss, and Yunho truly does wish he could bask in the comfort of their bed and Mingi’s embrace for just a little longer.
He can’t, though, and he knows that.
He finds comfort in knowing that when the day is over, however, the very same warmth and comfort will be there to embrace him with open arms, and so will Mingi.
"Get up, and maybe I’ll consider grabbing you some cookies on the way to work. And brush your teeth, your breath stinks.’’
"I hate you.’’
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When Tuesday rolls around, Yunho finds humor in his boyfriend refusing to get out of bed — huffs of I’ll get up soon spilling past his lips, something Yunho knows is a lie — and causing him to have to stress through his morning routine to not be late to work.
"Is that my shirt?’’
''Our,’’ Mingi is quick to correct him, "It’s our shirt.’’
Mingi doesn’t meet his gaze when Yunho looks at him through the mirror, too busy trying to tuck the front of his — their — shirt into his jeans to see the small, barely noticeable smile that Yunho is desperately trying to bite back.
"Pretty sure I was the one who bought it, though.’’
Mingi’s eyes stay glued onto his own reflection and the way his hands fiddle with the flimsy material of the t-shirt, "And I’m pretty sure I was the one who bought, like, every coffee cup we own,’’ He mumbles, and the slight furrow of his brows doesn’t go unnoticed by Yunho who’s admiring his boyfriend and his nonexistent patience. "Doesn’t stop you from using them, though.’’
It’s not until a frustrated whine leaves his lips that Yunho uses his hip to push himself away from the doorway he had been leaning against and makes his way toward the now clearly frustrated male.
"Last time I checked,’’ Yunho mumbles when he slips his arms around Mingi’s torso, "You bought them in blue because it’s my favorite color,’’
Mingi lets him guide his hands away from the fabric before replacing them with his own, carefully tucking the fabric into the front of his jeans — just how Mingi likes it, neat but in a messy and natural way, because Yunho always knows how Mingi likes things.
From the way he has to stand outside the shower for at least a minute until the water reaches the perfect temperature, to how he likes his morning coffee — no milk and no sugar, just plain, black coffee — to how he likes to tuck his shirts into his jeans.
Yunho knows Mingi better than Mingi knows himself, at least according to Mingi.
And Yunho can’t say he disagrees when his fingertips slide into the front of his jeans, and the furrow of Mingi’s eyebrows disappears when Yunho manages to do what he has been trying to do for the last ten minutes in one single, quick attempt.
"Is that better?’’
Mingi doesn’t respond, instead, he just leans the back of his head against Yunho’s shoulder and looks up at him. He doesn’t need to, the small smile that greets him tells him the answer.
"The shirt looks better on me anyway.’’
A soft kiss against his temple, and Mingi’s eyes flutter shut. "I agree.’’
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''Can you do it for me?’’
''You never wash my hair, why would I wash yours?’’
Mingi just rolls his eyes at him when Yunho leans against him to reach for the shampoo bottle, pressing a quick kiss onto the wet skin of his shoulder in the process.
If someone were to ask Yunho what part of the day he loves the most, he’d answer by telling them that he really loves the first sip of coffee after dragging his tired limbs out of the warmth of his sheets.
And it’d be a lie, not because he doesn’t like the first sip of warm coffee after just waking up, but because his favorite time of the day is his morning showers — especially when Mingi joins him.
Which he only does on Wednesdays, because it’s the only day of the week when he starts work later than usual, and therefore has the extra time to spend in the shower when Yunho takes a little too long to finish washing his body, and instead enjoys the warm shower stream.
"Because you don’t like it when I do,’’ Mingi counters, stepping away from the water so Yunho can get underneath it instead, "If you asked, I would have. You know that.’’
Yunho just chuckles in response when his hands, one still holding onto the shampoo bottle, reaches up and slightly nudges Mingi. "Turn around then.’’
Mingi, ever so eager, is quick to turn around — not before flashing Yunho a small grin, one Yunho gets to see every time Mingi gets his way — which, to be honest, is more often than not, and Yunho decides to blame Mingi and his way too pretty smile for his inability to deny his boyfriend just about anything.
A content hum leaves Mingi’s throat when Yunho’s fingers slip into the wet strands, messaging the shampoo into his hair and watching the way droplets of water make their way down his bare back.
Yunho’s favorite time of the day is his morning showers, because then he gets to see Mingi likes this — with his head slightly tilted back and even though Yunho can’t see his face, he knows there’s a small, content smile decorating his lips, like there always is whenever Yunho as much as touches his hair — with eyes still slightly puffy from just waking up and arms to tired to even wash his own hair.
Yunho likes to think of it as the purest form of Mingi.
And when he’s done washing his hair, he knows Mingi will turn back around and get underneath the water with him — and then he’ll lazily wrap his arms around Yunho’s torso and rest his chin on top of his shoulder while he asks Yunho to please wash the shampoo out for him, too.
Yunho will then laugh, and steal a kiss or two, before his hands will find their way back into his hair to wash the shampoo out for him.
Because that’s how it goes, when Mingi is too tired to move an inch and Yunho has to force him out of bed to shower before he has to get ready for work — when Mingi whines because the water is too cold and when he embraces Yunho like he’s the only source of warmth he has ever known — and therefore, Yunho’s favorite time of the day is his morning showers.
''You’re working from home today?’’ Mingi mumbles, leaning into Yunho’s touch.
Yunho nods, despite Mingi not being able to see him when his shampoo-lathered hands leave his hair to dance around his waist instead.
''Let’s go out for lunch together,’’ He mumbles after a moment of silence, hands resting against his stomach and he knows Mingi is about to start complaining about the shampoo getting in his eyes if he doesn’t wash it out soon, "I’ll come pick you up when you have your lunch break.’’
Mingi hums, fingers trailing over Yunho’s own, ''I’ll text you,’’ He mumbles, "Can you wash the shampoo out for me?’’
Yunho just nods once more, and bites back the chuckle that threatens to rip through his chest when he guides Mingi underneath the water so he can wash the shampoo out for him.
Yunho loves morning showers, because it’s the one time he realizes just how well he knows his boyfriend.
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''Do you think we’re together in every universe?’’ Mingi suddenly breathes into the darkness of their bedroom, barely above a whisper.
''Go to sleep, Mingi.’’
''Do you?’’ His hair tickles against Yunho’s chest when he shuffles around under the sheets, blond strands grazing his bare skin and even though Yunho can’t see him through the darkness that conceals his features, he can feel Mingi’s eyes looking up at him from where he’s resting against his chest.
''Ask me again tomorrow,’’ Yunho sometimes curses at Mingi’s insomnia, and for keeping him up when his eyelids feel so heavy that he sometimes isn’t even sure if he’s even awake to hear Mingi’s mindless rambling. ‘’I promise I’ll answer then.’’
Mingi huffs against his skin, warm and mellow. Like Mingi always is. ‘’I take that as a no, then.’’
Yunho settles for allowing his fingers to slip into the soft blond strands that had moments prior tickled his skin instead of giving his boyfriend a verbal response, and when he feels Mingi relax against him, he hopes that the silence that engulfs the room is here to stay.
''Do you still think we’re Yunho and Mingi?’’
Silence is never here to stay, though. Not with Mingi, never with Mingi. Not when Yunho finds himself seated at their shared dinner table and Mingi chatters away about a new book he started reading and the philosophical meaning behind it while he almost burns the food on the stove, and not when the clock on their bedside table reads 03:47 AM on a Thursday morning.
And perhaps Yunho should be annoyed when the sun is slowly starting to rise and his eyes burn from not getting enough sleep, something he never is. Something he never could be.
"In another universe?’’ Yunho mumbles, fingers gently grazing Mingi’s scalp.
"Yeah.’’
"Maybe,’’ He hums, ‘’Maybe we’re something different.’’
"Like what?’’ Mingi continues, and Yunho truly could never get annoyed at Mingi and the lack of silence that comes along with him.
"You’ll have to ask Yunho from another universe,’’ Because silence isn’t Mingi, silence never will be Mingi, and Yunho loves Mingi for all that he is. "He probably knows better than me.’’
Mingi snorts against his skin, "I hope Yunho from another universe plays with my hair in that universe, too.’’
Yunho already knows he’s playing with the soft strands of Mingi’s hair in every universe, even though they might be a different color compared to the bleached strands Yunho knows and loves.
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The sound of the door slowly creaking open sounds vastly different compared to the loud slam that had echoed through the whole apartment a mere forty minutes earlier.
And so does the soft and equally quiet voice that follows, “Yunho?”
Yunho has long since gotten used to Mingi and his fear of conflicts, something he was familiar with and knew about long before they got together — while they were still nothing but friends, friends longing for something none of them dared to speak about — and over the years, he has only gotten more aware of Mingi and the way he handles conflicts.
Looking over at the bedroom door that had just creaked open, Yunho tears his eyes off the show he had been mindlessly watching while reaching for the remote to turn the TV off, before his gaze lands on the small figure peaking through the gap.
A sight Yunho has seen many times before, the sight of the man he loves — the man whose limbs are almost just as big as his own — look so small , cheeks red from sweater paws desperately rubbing away lone tears and eyebrows lightly furrowed together.
Yunho has seen it many times.
His heart shatters and crumbles all the same, nonetheless.
“Hey,” Soft and careful when the word slips past his lips, “Are you ready to talk about it?”
Mingi, who has yet to completely emerge from behind their bedroom door, faintly nods in response.
“Come here.”
And so Mingi does. Carefully, almost ashamed, he steps into the living room and makes his way towards the couch where Yunho has resided ever since Mingi told him that ‘he never understands him’ and that 'he doesn’t even try to’, right before the loud slam of their bedroom door had ricocheted off the walls.
He goes to sit down next to him, something Yunho is quick to dismiss by shaking his head. “No, come here.”
Mingi just looks at him when Yunho places both his hands on top of his thighs, signaling for the man to sit on his lap and not beside him. After all, Yunho knows how Mingi handles conflicts — and Yunho knows how to handle the aftermath.
Yunho just hums in approval when Mingi eventually complies and places both legs on either side of his thighs, placing himself on top of him. He doesn’t look at him, eyes desperately searching for something to look at, anything other than Yunho when his hand comes up to lightly cup the side of his face and his thumb gently runs over the irritated skin of his cheek.
Don’t cry, Yunho wishes to say. I hate it when you cry.
“Talk to me,” Yunho breathes, “Tell me.”
And when Mingi’s bottom lip starts to quiver, he’s quick to use the light grip on the side of his face to pull him into the crook of his neck.
“I’m sorry,” The words come out muffled and wet with tears when he wraps his arms around Yunho. Urgent and equally scared, like Yunho is going to slip away. He’s not, he never will. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”
One hand finds its way up Mingi’s back, rubbing soft circles against the fabric of his own sweater that adorns his boyfriend's upper body while the other one finds itself slipping into his hair. “I forgive you,” He mumbles when his lips comes down to press a chaste kiss onto his clothed shoulder, “I just want to know why.”
”I’ve had a long day,” Mingi shakily breathes.
Yunho hums into the fabric that adorns his shoulder, “Overwhelmed from work?”
Mingi just nods, and Yunho hopes that the feeling of his palm rubbing up and down his back and his fingers grazing his scalp is enough to calm the male down.
Yunho then feels more thankful than he usually does that it’s Friday, and that he and Mingi can spend the whole weekend spread out across the couch with their favorite TV show playing on the TV.
“That doesn’t make it okay though, Mingi. You really hurt me when you say things like that.”
Things like that, as in that Yunho doesn’t understand whenever Mingi comes home from work with his shoulders slouched and there’s no bright grin greeting him when Yunho peeks his head around the corner to greet his boyfriend. That Yunho doesn’t understand Mingi when he doesn’t want Yunho to embrace him, or that he doesn’t want Yunho to cook him dinner, because Yunho does understand Mingi.
Yunho understands all of Mingi, and Mingi knows that.
“I know,” Mingi whispers, voice laced with shame and tiredness, “I’m sorry.”
Yunho runs his hand down his back, humming against his shoulder. “There’s no need to apologize, I’m just reminding you, baby.”
Reminding him that he does understand Mingi and the way he works, and that despite Mingi slamming doors in his face and refusing to accept his help more often than not — Yunho is here to help guide him through it.
“I didn’t mean any of it,”
“I know you didn’t.”
Because he does know. He does know Mingi never means any of the cruel and harsh words he spits at him, just like Mingi knows Yunho never means any of the cruel words he spits back at him whenever the roles are reversed and it’s Yunho seeking comfort in the one person he loves and trusts.
The silence that follows is far from shallow, and the complete opposite of the eerie one that had been lingering moments prior. It’s a comforting one, both to Mingi who clings onto him and breathes against his neck, and to Yunho who presses soft and chaste kisses onto his shoulder while his hand rests against his no longer slightly heaving back.
“Did you cook dinner?”
Yunho doesn’t bite back the smile that forms on his lips at the hushed question, a smile he’s certain Mingi can feel through the fabric of his sweater.
“Yeah,” He hums, “I made your favorite.”
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The strong, yet lazy arms that comes around and wraps themselves across Yunho’s torso slightly startles him.
Mainly because the music playing in his headphones is too high for him to hear when Mingi tiptoes into the kitchen, leaving his spot on the couch with the book he had been reading placed onto the floor — he’ll later gasp and complain when he discovers he forgot to slip the bookmark back between the pages before shutting it — but also because the last time Yunho checked, Mingi had been borderline dozing off.
"Smells good,’’ Mingi hums into the fabric of Yunho’s shirt when he nuzzles his face into his neck and Yunho slides the headphone off his head, ‘’Do you have a moment to spare, chef?’’
Yunho, hands too busy fiddling with the lid of a can of corn to reciprocate Mingi’s embrace, lowly hums when he manages to get the lid off. "I fear the chef is busy, unless you’re okay with eating burnt food today, then I guess he could spare a moment or two,’’
The chuckle that leaves Mingi’s throat feels warm against Yunho’s skin, and so does the small kiss that follows. ‘’I hate it when you talk about yourself in third person.’’
I know you don’t, Yunho almost says. I can feel you smiling against my skin.
"Not enjoying the book?’’ He settles for instead when one of Mingi’s hands slips beneath his shirt and his thumb gently rubs against the skin hidden underneath, followed by a low hum. "I am, it’s really good, like, better than I expected, thank you for getting it for me,’’
Yunho doesn’t tell him how hard it was for him to actually get him that book, the same book Mingi had been talking about ever since he stumbled across this book review on YouTube and then proceeded to tell Yunho about just how much he’d love to read it one day — the same book that Yunho had later on searched for in every bookstore he secretly stepped foot inside of whenever he told Mingi he had some errands to run.
The amount of kisses he had received when he gave it to Mingi, though, made the hassle worth it, Yunho thinks.
"I just missed you.’’
Yunho snorts, "You just wanted to bother me while I cook for you, you mean?’’
A loud yelp rips through Yunho’s chest when Mingi’s fingers suddenly pinch the skin of his stomach, and when he turns around, Mingi is grinning at him. "No,’’ He shakes his head, arms coming up to rest on Yunho’s shoulders, ‘’I’d just rather spend my Saturday with my boyfriend instead of alone on the couch.’’
The glare that Yunho offers him does nothing but make the grin on his lips grow even bigger, and Yunho mentally curses at himself for having no self-control when it comes to Song Mingi and his stupidly pretty smile.
When Mingi later on — only after too many kisses and Yunho having to shoo him away — tiptoes back into the living room, Yunho has gone back to listening to his music while finishing up the food he will later bring into the living room so they can finish the latest episode of their TV show, and misses the loud gasp of Mingi discovering that he did, in fact, forget the bookmark before shutting his book.
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Yunho deems himself to be a rather simple man.
He likes his coffee with nothing but milk, he enjoys the smell of freshly cut grass on a brisk summer morning just like he enjoys the smell of heavy rain against harsh concrete on late autumn nights — the simple things, really.
He finds pleasure in the simple things.
Things such as waking up right before his alarm goes off in the morning, and avoiding having to start his day by being rudely awoken by the blaring sound, or taking a hot shower after coming home from the gym and letting his muscles relax underneath the steaming hot water.
It’s the simple things in life, he has claimed one too many times — he likes the simple things.
"So pretty,’’
And Song Mingi, of course.
Yunho likes the simple things in life, and Song Mingi, who might be the furthest thing from simple.
That doesn’t stop him from being the one thing Yunho loves the most in life, though.
Because if there’s one thing loving Mingi has taught him, it’s that in hardship and struggles so small and far from simple, there is love and there is comfort lingering.
Love in the form of lazy afternoons and hurried goodbye kisses in the morning, love in the form of harsh and cruel words being spat behind closed doors, and comfort in the form of walking hand in hand down the dairy aisle — in every moment, bad or good, there is love and comfort lingering — and therefore, Song Mingi is what Yunho loves the most.
"You’re so pretty,’’ Yunho murmurs, and a shaky exhale is all he gets in response when his lips comes down to press a soft, chaste kiss onto Mingi’s skin. “So pretty for me,’’
Another chaste kiss, just hard enough for Mingi to feel it — yet soft enough to slightly tickle the sensitive skin just below his ear.
You’re always so pretty, Yunho wishes to say, especially like this.
Like this, as in under the dim lightning from the streetlights that peeks through the curtains, like this as in strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead — Mingi always looks the prettiest like this.
Planting yet another kiss onto the skin of his collarbone, “I wish you knew how beautiful you are,” Yunho mumbles into his skin. Especially right now, he almost says.
“I love you,” Mingi suddenly breathes and despite being words he has heard so many times before, Yunho feels like he might start crying. “I love you, Yunho, I love you,”
Soft but far from chaste kisses get left to linger on Mingi’s bare skin when nothing but the dim lightning coming from the streetlights peeks through the window and lits up the room, against freshly washed sheets and with hands desperate to feel each other — and Yunho realizes what he has known ever since Mingi first came into his life all those years ago.
In simplicity, there is love, and in hardship, there is even more love.
Song Mingi has proven that to him.
And when yet another week has passed, and Yunho finds himself back under the sheets of his bed on yet another Sunday night, he will find comfort in knowing that no matter what awaits him, the man whom he loves will be right there with him.
To love and to be loved is to feel the sun on both sides, and Yunho hopes to experience the loving embrace of Song Mingi until he’s no longer physically here to provide it — and until then, he will settle for coffee left to turn cold and stolen kisses in front of bathroom mirrors in the morning when they’re both late for work.
Yunho thinks he’s okay with that.
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''…I will love you until your face is fogged by distant memory. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else — and I will love you if you never marry at all, and spend your years yearning you had married me after all. That is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.''