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“Hyunjin.”
“Mhm.”
“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, and Hyunjin purses his lips.
They're both lying on the grass, on the pathway they'd both taken during their walk. Hyunjin looks up at the black-ink-like sky – that seems limitless, glittering with stars.
“Many things.” Hyunjin chooses to say, stealing a glance at Minho. He doesn't speak what's on his mind. He doesn't think he will be able to articulate it the way he wants to, anyway, so he doesn't.
Minho is kind enough not to push it, as always, with that aloof kind of care that Hyunjin has come to appreciate more and more each time that they meet each other.
Minho eventually stands up and stretches out his hand for the younger to hold so he can get up as well, and they get ice cream before heading to Hyunjin’s apartment.
This is not new: Minho taking his shoes off by the door, then going through the bags, taking the items they'd gotten at the grocery store on the way back one by one and getting himself ready to cook.
Hyunjin doesn't mind it at all. In fact, he enjoys it a lot. The ease between them, the fact that Minho doesn't have to ask, and Hyunjin doesn't have to say anything back.
They eat across from each other, stealing glances at one another, and Hyunjin chuckles, because Minho mocks the way he chews, and teases him in the way only he knows how.
They wash the dishes together, and when Hyunjin turns off the kitchen lights, light steps lead him into his bedroom. Minho follows along, and again, he doesn't need to ask. There's no awkward hesitation, no lingering in the living room while waiting to be invited further. He already knows Hyunjin wants him to stay – especially on nights like these, when the thoughts threaten to consume him and he needs someone beside him.
Hyunjin slips into his night clothes, and gets Minho some of his own as well. It looks a little tighter on him, and Minho flips him off when the younger laughs at it.
Hyunjin closes the window, and Minho turns off the bedside lamp. When they get under the covers together, it feels nice. Warm. Comfortable.
Nothing like Hyunjin had felt when he'd called Minho earlier that day.
There had been some nagging feeling as he heard the ringing tone; wondering whether this time Minho wouldn't answer. Whether he'd finally grown tired of being the person Hyunjin reached for whenever things got too hard.
"Hyung?" He'd said, his voice a little faded.
There had been a pause on the other end, only a second long.
"Can you–...” He'd hesitated, before abandoning the attempt entirely. “I'm not doing fine, hyung.”
And well, Minho hadn't asked why. Hadn't said anything besides,
"I'm on my way.”
••
Close.
That's what Hyunjin feels now, when he's next to him like this; not so much from the physical proximity, but from the way they face each other, and Minho threads his fingers through Hyunjin’s long hair.
“Are you alright now?”
Hyunjin chuckles lightly, a little watery.
“Yeah.” He says, truthfully.
And then,
“Just–... keep doing that. With my hair.”
Minho snorts a bit, seemingly unaware that he'd stopped; his fingers slipping back into Hyunjin's hair, combing through the long strands with slow, absent strokes, careful enough that they barely tug.
“Better?” He asks, and Hyunjin nods.
There's nothing more to it.
Minho just keeps going. He doesn't tease him for it, doesn't point out that Hyunjin has always been embarrassingly fond of having his hair played with, or that he's just as transparent now as he was years ago.
Silence settles between them, broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric whenever one of them shifts. But it doesn't feel stifling, or stale. And Hyunjin moves closer, sinking into Minho. The older holds him close, and Hyunjin lets his eyes drift shut.
The thoughts are still there, somewhere. They'll still be waiting for him tomorrow morning, once Minho inevitably needs to leave.
But now they don't exist.
"I don't know what I'd do without you." Hyunjin says quietly, almost like a thought said out loud.
Minho lets out a soft huff.
"You'd figure something out." He says fondly.
"I'm not so sure of that." Hyunjin replies. "...and I'm glad I didn't have to.”
The younger doesn't see Minho's tender smile, but he does feel the light kiss that the older presses against the side of his head.
"I'm glad you called." Minho tells him.
His hand never leaves Hyunjin's hair.
The first thing Hyunjin notices is his front door being opened, and then steps into the living room. The familiar citrusy fragrance is familiar, so he knows who it is already.
Before the younger knows it, a helmet is being placed into his lap, and alas, Minho is standing in front of him; a little breathless, as if he'd run up the stairs instead of just taking the elevator.
He blinks up at Minho. "...What's this?"
The older just shrugs. "Put it on."
Hyunjin frowns. "Why?"
"Because we're going somewhere."
"Where?" Hyunjin asks, but is already turning the tv off and shifting to sit straighter on the couch.
Minho is already slipping on his own helmet. "You'll see."
Hyunjin sighs dramatically, "I don't like surprises."
"I know."
"Then why even–”
"Helmet. Don't argue.”
"...You're impossible." Hyunjin clicks his tongue, and shakes his head with an eye roll when the older just winks.
Hyunjin grumbles under his breath but eventually obeys, and once they're already outside, he fumbles with the strap beneath his chin. Minho watches him struggle for a few seconds, amused, before he finally decides to take mercy on him.
“Come here." He beckons, and Hyunjin steps closer right away.
Without a word, Minho reaches beneath his chin and fastens the buckle himself, tugging lightly on the strap to make sure it's secure.
"There." He says, and once it's fully settled, Hyunjin pulls back a bit. Their eyes meet for a brief second.
"...Thanks." The long-haired man lightly smiles, and Minho hums in acknowledgment before swinging one leg over his bike.
"Get on."
Hyunjin stares, blinking up at him again.
"...Behind you?"
“Uh, yeah…? Unless you've suddenly learned how to ride on the handlebars…?”
Hyunjin laughs. "You make it sound like you've considered that."
"Actually I considered telling you to run after me, Hyunjin-ah. Test those long legs of yours.”
Hyunjin laughs again, this time doubling over.
"God, I hate you." He shakes his head, and then climbs onto the back of the bike. It's awkward at first, but he makes it. “Where should I even hold?”
Minho glances over his shoulder.
"Wherever you won't fall."
Hyunjin huffs, playful. "That's not very helpful, Minho.”
A beat passes.
"...You can hold onto me, then.” The older says, and Hyunjin does just that, carefully wrapping his arms around Minho's waist. It's weirdly comfortable. Even through the layers of clothing, he can feel the warmth.
He doesn't say it out loud, though.
Noticing his sudden silence, the older looks back again.
"You good?" Minho asks, ever attentive.
"Mhm."
"You sure?"
"...Yeah."
Minho pushes off, then.
The bike rolls forward, tires against the pavement as they move through the neighborhood. The late afternoon air is cool against Hyunjin's face as the quieter streets slowly replace the buildings and trees replace rows of parked cars.
He rests his forehead lightly between Minho's shoulder blades, content. At least until they coast downhill eventually, and Hyunjin tightens his hold.
"Too fast?" Minho asks immediately.
"A little." He admits, and the bike slows down almost right away.
"Better this way?"
"Yeah." He lets out a breath he'd been holding, thinking that there it is again.
That quiet way Minho always seems to notice his discomfort, and somehow never make a fuss about it. Never make fun, adjusting instead. It's the tiniest things like this, Hyunjin thinks, that make him feel so safe. That make him trust Minho enough to hop on his bike and let him take him wherever.
By the time they reach the river path, the sun has begun to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in a shade of orange.
Minho finally brakes to a stop, and Hyunjin lets go, climbing off the bike, staring at the river, and the way it gently ripples underneath the rays of light.
“I can't believe you went out of your way to bring me here, hyung." He smiles to himself, unable to look away from the view. "This is really nice."
Minho locks the bike and joins him with a small shrug of his shoulders.
"This is where I come whenever I need to think, you know."
Hyunjin turns to look at him.
"I thought it might help you, too."
A brief silence settles between them before Minho rubs the back of his neck.
"...And the view is nice." He clears his throat. "So I thought of... well."
His eyes flick toward Hyunjin for only a second.
"You.”
Their eyes lock for a moment, and Hyunjin could swear Minho looks a little flushed.
It's... adorable, he decides, and a little surprising, too. Minho has never been the type to fluster easily, if at all. The thought almost makes Hyunjin smile, but he decides against pointing it out, returning the courtesy.
Distantly, a dull ache settles in Hyunjin's chest, though.
Because it's the weekend. Minho could've been anywhere else – meeting his friends for drinks, spending the evening at a club, or simply staying home to rest after a long week. Instead, he'd spent it here. With Hyunjin.
Taking him to one of his “spots.” Patiently listening to his grumbling and taking his mood in stride, slowing the bike whenever he got scared, bringing him somewhere peaceful simply because he'd known Hyunjin had needed it. Because he was reminded of him.
Hyunjin feels his eyes begin to sting, suddenly, and he swallows around the lump in his throat, settling for a small nod, afraid to speak; afraid of his voice betraying how emotional he is.
He doesn't say anything, and, somehow, like always, Minho seems to understand anyway.
He doesn't ask why Hyunjin has gone quiet – stepping beside him, instead, close enough that their shoulders brush.
Together, they watch the river. And later, they share mulberries fetched from the trees.
“I wish I had brought my painting stuff…” Hyunjin says a while later, with a clearer head. His pants are folded up at the calves as he sits by the riverside; feet beneath the water.
"That would've been nice," Minho agrees, popping another mulberry into his mouth. "What would you paint, Hyunjin-ah?” Minho turns to him as he asks, his eyes lighting up in that familiar way they always do whenever something sparks his interest.
It's strangely flattering to recognize it – to know that something as simple as Hyunjin talking about painting is enough to make him look like that.
Hyunjin hums, considering the question before meeting Minho's eyes again.
"The ever-changing sky, maybe," he says. "Or the orange and gold that reflect on the river." His gaze drifts away, then lingering on the water.
"...You," he whispers.
For a moment, there's only silence. And then a bird calls somewhere in the distance, hidden among the trees branches.
Water passes lazily around their ankles, carrying fallen leaves as if the world has collectively decided not to acknowledge what has just been said. Hyunjin is almost relieved, but then,
"...Me?" Minho asks at last.
Hyunjin lets out a breath that sounds more like an exasperated laugh.
"I wasn't supposed to say that out loud.”
His cheeks have turned rosy, he knows it, and he presses the heel of his hand against his forehead, smiling at himself in quiet embarrassment.
"I've ruined the mood.”
“No," Minho says immediately, and Hyunjin glances at him. "You didn't.”
Their eyes meet again, and it seems like neither of them can look away, this time.
"You'd really paint me?"
Hyunjin nods, almost imperceptibly so.
"I think so."
"Why?” He asks with a tilt of his head, and surprisingly, the question isn't teasing, no. If anything, he sounds genuinely puzzled.
Hyunjin studies him for a long moment.
"Because you're..." He pauses, searching for words that never seem sufficient. "You're difficult, hyung."
Minho lets out an amused huff.
"That's not exactly flattering."
"I don't mean it like that." Hyunjin shakes his head with a quiet smile. “It's just– Every time I think I've figured you out, I notice something new.” He pauses. “And every time I think I know what colors I'd use..." Hyunjin murmurs, "...I change my mind.”
The admission hangs between them, and Hyunjin decides not to linger on how he's just confessed he has thought about painting Minho before. Because he has.
"I don't think I've ever finished looking at you." Hyunjin says, and doesn't dare look up immediately.
He's not sure why he's saying these things. Actually, he does know why: It's all true.
But Hyunjin has never taken time to acknowledge them. Perhaps it's his current emotional state, the fragility of being cared for, and the presence of someone as important to him as Minho is that's making Hyunjin run his mouth without thinking things through, confessing things that he almost wishes he hadn’t.
Instead of laughing at the absurdity of it all, though, Minho lowers his gaze to the handful of mulberries resting in his palm. He rolls one gently between his fingers before offering it to Hyunjin.
"For the artist."
Hyunjin chuckles under his breath despite himself and accepts it, their fingertips brushing.
"Thank you." he says, and feels as Minho watches him eat it.
"I don't think anyone's ever said something like that to me before, you know." The older tells him, and Hyunjin swallows, his smile turning sheepish.
There's a swirling in his chest.
"I've never said something like that before.”
Minho nods, breaking eye contact. But he smiles; reserved, almost unassuming. It's weird how it sends a pang through the younger's heart.
Eventually they leave, and on the back of Minho's bike, Hyunjin still holds him tightly around the waist. They don't say anything; there's no need; but once they reach Hyunjin's apartment building, the older doesn't stay.
He only takes his helmet off, running a hand through his wind-tousled hair before holding Hyunjin's out to him.
"Here. Keep it.” He says, and Hyunjin accepts it with a quiet thanks.
For a moment, neither of them moves. The street is calm at this hour, washed and lit by the streetlights. Nearby, someone laughs from an open window. A dog barks in the distance.
"I should get going," Minho says eventually.
"Right." Hyunjin replies, though neither of them makes any effort to end the conversation they aren't having.
Hyunjin's fingers tighten around the helmet dangling at his side, and it occurs to Hyunjin then that he wants to ask Minho to come upstairs, but not because he needs him anymore – just because he wants him there.
The realization catches him off guard.
Of course he's always enjoyed Minho's company, but there had been a time when every phone call to the older had been made out of desperation, out of some sort of loneliness so overwhelming he couldn't bear it by himself. And Minho didn't even have to ask if he could stay the night, because he's always known the answer.
But tonight is different, somehow. Tonight, the heaviness in Hyunjin's chest isn't present, and his thoughts aren't haunting him. He doesn't want the evening to end; he doesn't want his time with Minho to end.
But asking him to come up feels, for the first time, like crossing a line, and Hyunjin doesn't know what to do with that.
"...Get home safely, you." He finds himself saying, heart beating loud against his chest.
Minho smiles. "Sure.”
Hyunjin nods, flushed for no reason.
A beat passes, and then,
“I'll see you soon, Minho hyung?" Hyunjin asks, and it's strange that he even brings himself to ask. As if there's a possibility of them not seeing each other. Strangely, the thought makes his skin crawl.
But the answer comes without hesitation.
"Of course Hyunjin-ah.” Minho reassures him, like he always seems to do. “Hyung is only a call away.”
He raises a hand in a small wave before pushing off the pavement.
Hyunjin watches as the older pedals down the street, the red rear light attached beneath the seat growing smaller and smaller with every turn of the wheels.
Only when the older disappears around the corner does Hyunjin finally head upstairs.
Minho is in Hyunjin's kitchen again.
The younger sits on the counter, one leg swinging idly as he watches him move around the space with ease; like a habit.
He's wearing a white shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans, a silver necklace disappearing beneath the collar; the pendant no doubt cool against his always-warm skin.
Minho's earrings catch the overhead light whenever he turns his head, and the wine has left a rosy tint on his cheeks. His lips seem a little redder than usual from the slow, almost absent-minded sips he's been taking all evening, and Hyunjin…he can't stop looking.
It's a new realization; a strange one. Not the looking, because that has never been new, really.
He's always watched Minho. Always found himself memorizing the smallest things about him; like the way he'd lightly hum while cooking, or the tiny crease between his brows whenever he concentrated on anything; the quiet smile that appeared only when he thought no one was paying attention – those he usually reserved for Hyunjin as their eyes would meet.
What's new is the ache along with it, though, and the longing poking beneath his ribs, and the way his gaze lingers on the older a second too long before he remembers to look away. He would never be so conscious of it before.
Ever since the afternoon by the river, his thoughts have circled over and over around the same thought, around Minho, and the younger keeps telling himself everything between might have changed that day.
But that isn't quite true, no. You don't wake up one morning suddenly in love with someone you've known for years, right? Hyunjin doesn't think that's possible.
And thinking back, he has never really pursued anyone. There had been men at clubs, always, persistent and cocky enough to ignore a polite rejection, smiling as though they could convince him to stay.
Hyunjin would laugh, and the "Sorry. I have a boyfriend." would roll out of his lips easily.
It was always a lie, of course, but the name of the supposed boyfriend was always the same:
Minho.
The memory makes Hyunjin's eyes widen a little bit, heart hammering against his ribcage.
He also remembers one of Minho's ex- boyfriends; Han Jisung. He remembers meeting him for the first time, remembers smiling politely, remembers how he'd disliked him almost immediately for no reason at all.
Remembers how sour he felt whenever his name came up, and the wicked relief when Minho had broken things off.
At the time, he'd chalked it up to childish possessiveness. To friendship.
It had been none of it.
Minho notices Hyunjin staring eventually, but instead of teasing him about it, he just comes closer, making the younger's breath catch in his throat.
Minho's hands still on Hyunjin's waist, and the younger can feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of detergent clinging to his white shirt, the soft brush of each shared breath between them.
It's all intimate in the way they'd never been to each other; not like this, not even in the countless times they've shared a bed. It's foreign, but it almost feels overdue.
Hyunjin just wants to let himself go.
Minho's gaze lingers on Hyunjin's eyes before dropping briefly to his lips.
"...Hyunjin."
"Mhm?"
"Are you alright tonight?"
The question catches him off guard. It's like a bucket of icy water on his skin, and he frowns.
"...Yeah. Why?” He asks, and his voice comes out a little sharper than he'd intended. "What, do I seem off?"
Minho's brows knit together immediately. "No."
"You think I'm having another episode or something?"
Hyunjin hates the defensiveness in his own voice, but he can't seem to stop it. The thought brings him shame. All the times Minho has seen him curled over the toilet, or drunk, or just…so out of it that he couldn't even answer when Minho talked to him. When the tears wouldn't stop, and his mind wouldn't rest, and expressing it in front of his easel didn't change anything…
But tonight had been different, and maybe that's what makes the heat in the back of his neck even more bothersome, and the curling in his stomach even tighter. The fact that at this point Minho might not even be able to tell when Hyunjin is fine or not.
“I didn't even call you because of that today, and you know it.” He rasps, wounded.
"I do.”
"So you don't have to keep checking if I'm–"
"Hyunjin." Minho says his name, and the younger stops.
Minho studies him for a moment, letting him breathe, but the silence is agonizing, almost suffocating before the older speaks again.
"Listen- Look at me, Hyunjin-ah. Please.” He says, and the younger does, although reluctantly. “I'm not asking because I think something's wrong, okay?" He clarifies, “There's nothing wrong with you.” He reassures; thumb brushing lightly against Hyunjin's side.
"I'm asking because… well," He lets out a breath. And then his thumb brushes beneath Hyunjin's eye, his cheek, his bottom lip. Minho's eyes trail the path of his touches, until he looks the younger in the eyes again.
Hyunjin's heartbeat stutters, nervousness and anticipation bubbling up.
"I need to know if I can keep going. If us being like this, close like this, is something you want, too, and not just me turning this into another thing entirely when you only want some comfort." He tells him, earnest and true. "I need to know, Hyunjin-ah, if I'm reading this wrong. If I'm crossing the line." He pauses. "Am I?"
The question settles in the silence, and all of Hyunjin's defensiveness fades away, just like that.
It's just so Minho, isn't it? To have someone practically leaning into him, and still caring to make sure. Worried about pushing boundaries Hyunjin has been silently wishing they'd cross for weeks.
He's been stupid tonight. So damn stupid. Hyunjin had misunderstood. But maybe Minho couldn't have known, either, because Hyunjin hasn't told him. Hasn't shown him.
So he does, slowly pulling Minho closer, and thus, closing the distance between them until there's barely a breath separating them both. He reaches for Minho's wrist, guiding the older's hand back to his cheek, and when Minho caresses it again, he leans into the touch.
His eyes never leave Minho's.
"Kiss me," he whispers. "Please."
Minho's eyes soften with something that looks almost like relief.
Hyunjin thinks he's never looked more beautiful.
The first rays of sunlight streak through the curtains, and there's a sort of early-morning haziness lingering in the air. Hyunjin opens his eyes, turning, almost on instinct, to find the warmth of Minho's body.
The younger breaks into a soft, sleepy smile as he realizes that the other is already awake; heart hammering inside his ribcage at the mere sight of him.
"I must look like a creep, right?" Minho jokes. "Staring at you like this.”
Hyunjin's chest shakes with laughter.
"A little."
"I knew it.”
“But hyung,” His smile persists as he blinks the last traces of sleep from his eyes. "I don't mind, you know."
Minho raises an eyebrow.
"No?”
Hyunjin shakes his head. “I like it when you look at me.”
Minho nods; a fond expression on his face as he reaches over, smoothing a stray lock of hair away from Hyunjin's forehead.
“And I like looking at you.” He confesses, and Hyunjin's chest swells.
Somewhere outside the window, a bird calls, followed by the distant rumble of a bus.
“You know..."
"Mhm?"
"I think I fell in love with you like this, Hyunjin-ah." Minho says, and Hyunjin blinks.
"...Like what?"
"One of these mornings.”
Minho's gaze wanders over his face, soft; still so, so tender, like he's reminiscing.
"I woke up before you did.” He recalls, confirming Hyunjin's suspicions. “You were still half asleep when you opened your eyes." He lets out a quiet laugh. "The first thing you did was look for me."
Hyunjin feels his breath catch.
"And then you smiled." Minho shakes his head, almost at himself. "It wasn't a big smile. You weren't even fully awake yet, I think." He tells him, and his eyes find Hyunjin's again. "But the moment you realized I was there..." He pauses. "You looked so happy, and I remember thinking..." Another small, almost embarrassed smile. "'That's dangerous.'"
Hyunjin lets out an almost watery laugh, shifting onto his side for real, until his elbow sinks into the mattress, propping his face against the palm of his hand.
"Dangerous..?"
"Yeah."
"Why?" Hyunjin shifts again, just a bit; getting closer.
"Because I felt something different, then."
Minho looks down at his own hands for a moment before admitting it.
"For the longest time I'd been pretty sure I didn't see you that way, that I'd never see you that way.” He exhales through his nose. "Then you smiled at me like that, and everything went out the window.” His shoulders rise in a shrug. “I realized I could fall for you. Maybe I was already falling.”
They stare at each other, and silence settles between them after a moment. Hyunjin's heart still beats loudly, and he doesn't trust himself to speak.
Instead, he reaches for Minho's calloused hand, intertwining their fingers before lifting them to his lips and pressing a slow kiss against his knuckles.
For a long moment, neither of them says anything; but then Minho murmurs, almost to himself.
"You sleep better now." He whispers, and the words are quiet, hushed; matter-of-fact.
Hyunjin lolls his head to the side in light puzzlement, in turn, and Minho's gaze softens.
"You used to frown in your sleep." The older's thumb brushes lightly against Hyunjin's temple, dropping back to the mattress afterwards. "Now you don't."
The words tighten something in his chest. It's true, indeed that he hasn't been as restless, and hasn't woken up in the middle of the night, anguish-filled and antsy. He just hadn't realized Minho had noticed. But maybe he should have, because Minho notices everything, doesn't he?
The way Hyunjin grows quiet when something is bothering him, and when he's not satisfied with one of his paintings – just by the slight knit of his brows.
The way Hyunjin absentmindedly picks at the sleeves of his sweater whenever he's anxious – only for Minho to quietly offer him his hand, instead.
The way that he always reaches for something sweet after a particularly bad day – getting Minho to come home with the younger's favorite snacks and treats tucked into a grocery bag.
The nights he can't sleep.
The nights he finally can.
Minho is still looking at him, fondness dripping from gaze; warm like a summer day, and Hyunjin doesn't know what to do, because being see-through used to terrify him.
It felt too much like exposure; like baring that part of himself to people would only give them ammunition to hurt him.
But with Minho, there's none of it. He’s seen the worst of Hyunjin, the quietest of him, the most frightened parts of him. Had stuck with him through his mood swings, sickness; through his darkest, darkest days, and he'd…stayed. Never used it against him, never asked for anything.
Hyunjin blinks hard against the sudden sting in his eyes, and the room gets quiet again. He traces mindless circles over the back of Minho's hand.
"...Don't ever get tired of me, hyung.” He whispers, almost involuntarily so.
Minho's fingers tighten around his, at that.
"I won't." He says, and there isn't a trace of hesitation. There's no teasing, no grand declaration, either; just some sort of certainty that washes Hyunjin over, and he searches the older's face, still, trying to find even the slightest crack in those words that he desperately wants to cling to.
He doesn't find it, and the knot and the tightness in his chest loosen all at once; the younger leaning forward until their foreheads meet, closing his eyes as Minho's hand finds the back of his neck.
"Okay," Hyunjin whispers, hushed, nuzzling closer; sighing softly against Minho's collarbone as the older holds him close.
He can hear Minho's steady heartbeat, and the older presses a brief kiss to the top of his head.
"Go back to sleep." He says, and Hyunjin smiles to himself.
"Mhm." He replies, still seeking the older's warmth; and when he finally closes his eyes, sleep comes easily.
.
.
.