Archive of Our Own

This whole thing had been one of the stupidest ideas he'd had in years. 

The whole morning he had felt bored to death and had then decided to start a Q&A on Instagram. There were still quite a lot of his fandom around and their questions, quips, pick up lines and jokes had kept him entertained. Although it had been 2 years since Stray Kids had disbanded and a lot of new KPOP groups had emerged since, STAY still hadn’t forgotten the members completely.

Then it all had taken a turn, somebody had asked him about his favorite person. Minho had been feeling a bit subdued for a few days now, he knew quite well why, and without thinking too much he had posted his answer: 

A beautiful picture of Chan in the recording room, smiling at the camera (aka Minho behind the camera), wearing one of his trademark black hoodies, a black snapback and big earphones on his head. 

For a second his thumb had hovered over the “Send” button, but then he had snorted derisively and sent it anyway. Long gone were the days where he had to be extra careful about what he posted online. Which photos he sent. Which image he had to uphold. 

There was no Division 1 anymore, that monitored his posts, urged him to be careful when talking to STAY, that mourned their first gray hairs appearing because of the shit he and his members pulled from time to time. 

Minho wasn’t an idol anymore, he had regained his personal freedom long ago. He could post whatever the freaking fuck he wanted and suddenly he felt a rush of excitement in his body. Of course he had known this already. But it seemed as if he realized it entirely just now. 

While he had been staring off into space, chasing his thoughts and marveling at his revelations, other questions had arrived.

“When did you meet him?”

Minho let himself fall onto his couch and leaned his head against the backrest, staring into space. As if they had waited for exactly this moment, Soonie and Dori simultaneously jumped onto the couch and affectionately rubbed their heads against his arms. Absent-mindedly he started scratching their ears while thinking about the question.

A dance practice studio appeared before his eyes, the ghost of a fast song with a heavy beat echoing in his memory. The choreography their instructor had been giving them was draining, but still no real problem for him. 

After completing the base dance course for JYP trainees in mere weeks rather than months or even years Minho had been quickly administered to the next level. His trainers loved him, the other trainees either hated him for skimming over the basic course so fast or were too timid to speak to him because of it. 

Minho didn't find it in himself to bother. He was here to learn and not to make friends. He had a handful of carefully chosen friends, some of whom had been with him for years now, and he knew that making friends in the trainee program could cause a lot of heartache if they were separated again through elimination.

The bass boomed so loud he could feel it resonating in his core. Sweat was dripping down his face, threatening to drip into his eyes which were fixed onto his reflection in the mirror.

For now at least.

A few more run throughs and he'd maybe be able to do it with his eyes closed. Should he make it to debut and be able to show his dancing skills to a crowd, like he did back then with BTS on their tour, there wouldn't be a mirror either.

So he had to be able to dance flawlessly without constantly monitoring himself in the mirror. 

The song finished and Minho held his end pose until their trainer nodded and called a ten minute break. 

Most of the other trainees dropped to the ground where they had been standing, groaning and panting. 

Minho turned around instead to get to his bag for a sip of water. When he turned he suddenly registered that there was another person with them in the room, leaning against the wall next to the door.

He couldn't see their face because they were looking at their phone, obscured by the shield of their black snapback hat. An oversized black hoodie, black sneakers and black, knee long shorts completed their outfit.

While Minho wondered who that person was, he lifted his head from his phone and their eyes met. Minho's breath caught in his chest. 

Dark brown eyes that seemed to see right into his soul, a prominent nose, plush rosy lips and soft features, caught right between a boy and a young man… Minho had never seen a more beautiful face than this. 

And he also suddenly realized who it was. He was a mystery, someone the trainees spoke about with awe and pity on equal parts behind his back. 

Awe because of his obviously insane talent in every category from singing to dancing and rumor had it that he even was allowed to use the record studios on the 8th floor, because he also was called a producing prodigy by some. 

Pity because of his insanely long trainee period that surpassed everyone else's. Six and a half years. An eternity in this business. And no one knew why. Some trainees thought it might be because Park-nim was too soft to throw him out after all this time. 

But to Minho that last explanation was utter bullshit. JYP wouldn't have made it this far if he'd been a soft man. 

So the only other explanation was that their boss had something special in mind for… 

"Chan-ah!" 

Minho flinched when his trainer called to their silent guest in greeting and he suddenly became aware that they had been staring at each other all this time. 

Chan turned to his teacher and a soft smile spread on his face. “Hello Bong-hyung.” His voice was warm and rich, sending a shiver down Minho's back and he quickly averted his gaze, almost running over to his bag, his ears bright red and burning.

He grabbed his water bottle and took a few quick gulps. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched Chan bowing to Jung Bong, causing the other to scoff and pull the trainee into a soft hug. Minho watched with fascination how a blinding smile erupted on Chan’s face and how quickly his ears turned red.

“What is HE doing here…?” The question was whispered almost directly into his ear, causing the dancer to flinch violently and whip his head around. Beom-seok, another trainee in his course, also flinched and quickly bowed in apology when Minho stared at him, blinking rapidly. 

“Sorry, Minho-ssi, I thought you heard me coming, I’m sorry…”

He wasn’t wrong though, normally Minho could tell when somebody approached him without problems. But his attention had been caught somewhere else these last few minutes. 

Beom-seok finally stopped apologizing and took a sip from his bottle, while openly staring at Chan and their trainer talking in hushed voices to each other. “So…what do you think? Why is THE Bang Chan here, at the advanced training? He can’t possibly want to join, he left this course behind him years ago…”

Minho had asked himself the same question, but he’d never been one to indulge into gossip. So he shrugged, positioned himself with his back to the pair next to the door on purpose and took another gulp from his water bottle. Silently he hoped for their break to be over soon, so he wouldn’t have to socialize any longer with the younger trainee in front of him. 

Choi Beom-seok was handsome and Minho had to admit that he also was quite talented in his dancing, but during the few times they had to interact, his actions and mindset had left quite a bad aftertaste. 

The younger one wanted to become an idol for the single sake of money and getting girls to adore him. Dancing and singing were just a way for him to get to his goal. He often complained loudly to the other trainees why he had to go to vocal lessons, after all he’d just be the dancer and/or visual of the group anyways, so why bother. All that whining quit immediately when a trainer crossed his path and more than once he had tried to get out of trouble or schedules by batting his eyes at the (mostly) female staff members.

But while he played the good, innocent boy to the staff members and higher ups, Minho had him seen bullying younger trainees more than once. Be it psychological with mean comments and degrading sneers or walking against them on purpose hard enough to make them stumble and fall, so he could act all exasperated after, yelling how they should watch where they were going. He made Minho feel sick.  

“Maybe…I heard that rumor…but that one’s insane, I can’t really believe it, you know?” Beom-seok leaned closer and Minho had to gather all his strength to not lean away in disgust and to keep his face free from all emotions. 

The other didn’t seem to notice his struggle and continued whispering: “They are saying that Bang is searching for members for his own group, instructed by JYP himself. Maybe that’s his last chance before going “down under” again. Man, about time huh? He’s been stuck as a trainee forever.”

He looked at Minho expectantly, as if awaiting his answer. It didn’t seem to occur to him at all that the elder wasn’t interested in gossiping with him. Too polite to completely ignore him but also not eager to encourage Beom-seok to continue talking to him, Minho shrugged again indifferently and grunted while taking another sip from his bottle.

It seemed to be answer enough for the other, for he continued: “I wonder what kind of group it will be. And why do they give him that much freedom to create his own group? No mere trainee had ever had the opportunity to make his own group. What’s so special about him, huh? He really seems to be JYP-nim's favorite boy.” Jealousy colored his tone and he scoffed derisively. “Can’t see why though. I mean, look at his style, he looks more like a nerd than an idol, if you ask me…”

“But I didn’t.”

Beom-seok flinched and blinked at Minho sharp, cold answer in utter confusion. “Sorry?” 

Minho closed his bottle, put it back into his bag and straightened up again, looking directly at his fellow trainee with an emotionless face.

“I didn’t ask you.” he clarified and went back to his place, for their 10 minutes had to be up by now.

“...arrogant jerk…thinks he’s something better just because he probably blew his way through the basic course…” Beom-seok growled quietly and Minho clenched his teeth for a second to prevent himself from reacting too fast. 

Then he lifted his head and smiled at Beom-seok through the mirror, but it wasn’t a nice smile. With a sweet voice he answered: “Ah, jagi, you shouldn’t judge others by your own standards…”

He watched in utter amusement, how the others face took on a bright red color in mere seconds, twisted into pure rage and then he stepped closer, his hands balled into fists at his side. 

“Say that again to my face, if you dare, you cowardly  as- “ 

“Choi Beom-seok!”

Minho turned slowly to see their trainer coming back over, obviously trying to figure out who started all of this and how he should end it. Chan stood a few steps behind, his gaze trained on Minho, his facial expression pensive and calculating. When their eyes met, Minho pulled up an eyebrow questioningly, determined to not let himself stare like a lovestruck teenager at the other again.

A light blush dusted Chan’s cheekbones when he found the other answering his gaze, but he didn’t look away. Quite the contrary: he tilted his head slightly and jerked his chin upwards for a second, as if he was asking “What’s up?”

Minho let utter confusion and slight disgust bleed into his facial expression and turned his gaze away, shaking his head.  He could have sworn he heard Chan snicker slightly…

****

“Mrrreow?”

“Ouch! Doongie-ah! Watch your claws, will you??” Minho howled, abruptly brought back to the present by his middle child, using his legs as a scratching post. He bowed forward, gently picked up his cat and placed him on his lap. Doongie started purring immediately and settled down on his thighs a few seconds later, rolled up like a fluffy ball.

His phone laid next to him on the couch, the screen had already turned off while he went down memory lane. He reached over, picked it up and looked at the question again. Then he typed: “We met in the studio! around 2017 I think”

That was enough info, nobody was interested to hear about the little war that had ensued from that special dance practice. The whole ordeal Beom-seok had put him through for months after, spilling coffee all over his clothes, hiding his change clothes after dance practice, starting all sorts of rumors about him.

The rage it had caused the younger one, when Minho didn’t seem to react at all to his bait. The day it had all escalated and Choi had followed him to an empty dance practice room late at night. They had argued, Minho had turned his back dismissively at the other, causing him to take his chance and attack the dancer cowardly from behind his back.

Minho remembered the way he had used his body’s agility to turn onto his back while the other straddled him, to be at least able to defend himself, to deter some of the blows the other had let rain down on him. 

He hadn’t been able to fend them all off. One had hit him right on his jaw, making his vision go white for a second. When he was looking up he saw Choi aiming for another swing right at his nose and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain. 

Which never came. Instead he heard huffing and grunting and Chois weight was lifted off his chest. When Minho reopened his eyes he found Beom-seok lying on his belly, face squished against the floor, one arm behind his back. 

On his back, one knee pressing against the other's spine to hold him down was a grinning Bang Chan. 

“Hi Minho!” He greeted happily, seemingly unaware of the younger trainee wriggling below him. 

“H-hi, Chan-ssi!” Minho mumbled a bit dazed, trying to make sense of the others' cheery behavior in his aching head. 

“Do you have a few minutes? I wanted to ask you something, but I have to take the trash out first…” Chan continued, his tone still light, but with a sudden darkness and anger in his gaze, when he looked at Choi’s writhing form on the floor.

“Eh…s-sure. No other plans for tonight…” Minho answered and watched in awe as Chan winked at him, then stood up in a fluent motion while grabbing Choi at the scruff of his hoodie, pulling him up to his feet. 

“You c-can’t do this. I will file a complaint…you can’t treat me this way…” Choi stammered, trying to get his bearings back. 

Chan, who was still holding onto his arm and hoodie pulled him closer until the younger man’s back was flush against his chest. Minho was surprised to feel a stab of jealousy at the sight, quickly shoving it deep down, to look at it later. Maybe.

Chan leaned closer, his mouth right next to the younger’s ear, his voice low and dangerous: “I watched you Choi. You see, being here for so long has it's perks. I know many, MANY people. And they tell me lots of stuff. 

For example little Yang Jeongin. Remember him? Possibly not, with all the shit you did. But he remembers. Vividly. How you beat him up in the bathroom on the third floor, for whatever reason. Or the girl you offered your help to debut, last week, in exchange for her getting on her knees for you. She's fourteen, by the way, you disgusting piece of shit... ”

Chan straightened up and smirked without any trace of humor, looking at their reflection in the mirror. Choi was squirming in his hold, looking utterly terrified. “And with what I saw tonight I can promise you one thing: Today was your last day at this company. I’ll make sure of it.”

With that he pulled a stumbling Choi Beom-seok out of the room. It was the last time Minho saw the other trainee. Later that night Chan asked him to become part of Stray Kids.

***

“What's your favorite memory of him?” 

Another question appears.

Minho stares at it, blinking slowly, his mind flooded with new pictures, like a tsunami breaking free from his memory.

. 

Chan’s hand, lingering longer and longer on Minho as time passed them by.

His crushing hugs, which he pretended not to like, but which he cherished above everything else. 

He remembers his pulse accelerating with each touch, the butterflies in his tummy whenever he was alone with his hyung, the worries that it may be one-sided.

Chan’s smile, which seemed so much brighter when he looked at him.

His handsome face, coming closer and closer in their dark kitchen after they cleaned up together one night, while bantering back and forth like a married couple.

His lips touching Minho’s light as a feather, careful, ready to pull back at any sign of discomfort from the other. The little huff he let out when Minho threw his arms around his neck to pull him closer and deepen their kiss.

His heartbeat, racing in his sculpted chest after their first time, the slight sheen of sweat on his whole body, the adoration on his face when he had looked down at Minho, as if he was trying to figure out how he had deserved all this. The tenderness of his touches, the passion in his eyes. 

The stolen moments in the following months, a quick gentle touch here, a secret kiss there. He sees them in the living room, all eight of them, Chan and him telling the other members after they had been sure that it was something serious and their fear while waiting for the verdict.

The elation when they had been accepted without questions or resistance from their found brothers.

Something tickled his cheek and when Minho lifted his hand he found a single tear running down his face. He wiped it away and his face scrunched up in disgust. What the hell?

He hadn’t cried in so long. But he had also not visited all these memories in so long, because as beautiful and precious as they were to him, they also hurt like hell. 

Resolutely he shook his head as if he had emerged out of water and typed his answer: 

“There's a lot…maybe going on silly dates with him??? He never ran out of corny pick up lines to annoy me lol”

Their dates were quite something. They had to be careful after all, to not be spotted by fans or their company. But they had managed. With disguises in the form of face masks and hats or caps and sometimes with places further away from Seoul for example with camping trips. 

He remembered shared ice creams and the sticky kisses afterwards, filled with giggles and tasting like vanilla. 

He remembered the arcade they had visited and the battle that had begun with both of them being so competitive and not able to give in. Finally ending  in them staring angrily at each other, before both of them had cracked at the same time, laughing at their stupid antics until their bellies hurt.

Chan, standing in front of his room, ready to go on their date, looking so delicious that Minho had a hard time concentrating until the older one opened his mouth and almost ruined it with a stupid pick up line he had gotten from STAY, making them both crack up.

Another memory hit him and he picked up his phone, typing another answer to the previous question: “I also love traveling with him… going anywhere with him tbh”

All their tours came to his mind, where they had been all around the world - literally. They had often shared a hotel room back then, claiming that “the adults needed some time away from the kids”, which always made their staff grin knowingly. 

Two years into their relationship all of them had known of course, but they had been part of their found family and nothing had reached the outside of their happy little bubble. 

Or their solo trip to Japan.

Where they had visited the Tokyo Disney Resort together. Visited a cat cafe (Chan’s idea) and a dog shelter (Minho’s idea). Ate Ramen until they were so full they could hardly move and swore to each other to never eat anything ever again. 

He remembered stumbling around a dark forest in the middle of the night because he had to pee, losing his direction in the darkness and almost having a panic attack, when Chan had suddenly emerged between the trees, pulling him to his chest and sheltering him in his arms and murmuring consoling words to calm him down. 

He remembered being led back to their tent. Remembered cuddling back together in their sleeping bag and Chan making sweet love to him, surrounded by the sounds of the forest.

Abruptly Minho stands up and starts walking aimlessly through his living room, the cats following his every move with half closed eyes. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. This was a stupid idea. He should have never indulged those questions. 

It was so, so close to their supposed anniversary, a time where he was much more vulnerable than usual. What if he said something stupid, fueled through the undercurrent of melancholy that always got to him at this time of the year?

Minho stopped suddenly, as if he had run into an invisible wall. So what? a treacherous voice whispered in his heart. What if he answered something stupid? There wasn't a career to destroy anymore with old tales. His job as a dance instructor wasn’t in danger by this, he had come out to his employer right on the first day, not wanting to keep any secrets. And the elderly man hadn’t even bat an eye about it, simply introducing him to his husband a few days later.

And Chan? He hadn’t posted something on his instagram in over six months - not that Minho had checked it or something. 

And the rest of SKZ’s knew. They all knew how he felt. Especially Han and Seungmin had to pick him up more than once over the last years, when he had allowed the sorrow and regret to swallow him, and helped him to nurse his broken heart back to an almost normal state. 

Nodding once to himself, as if he was answering an unspoken question, Minho turned around and sat back on the couch, between his cats, ready to answer further questions. 

“Are you two dating????” 

“MinChan confirmed, huh? After all this time…” Minho murmured sarcastically and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“We did, haha. Actually I don’t know when we started “dating” (A blatant lie, if he was honest with himself, as if he could ever forget anything about his relationship with Chan, but every other answer would have taken too long)  but we would always hang out together without the other members. Just the two of us. I got to know him more as a person and honestly, Chan is the purest soul I know. He was a breath of fresh air. He walked into my life and made it infinitely more beautiful and meaningful. Chan became everything to me. “

He read through his answer one more time, took a deep breath and pushed the “Send” Button. Letting his head fall back against the couch he closed his eyes and recalled the sound of Chan’s laugh. How he missed it. How happy it had always made him, to hear his hyung laugh freely. The way his eyes had turned into little crescents and the little squeaks that had sneaked into it. 

His heart burned with longing and he had a hard time swallowing the lump in his throat. 

“Who confessed first?”

****

“Minho!”

The dancer turned around, watching his leader jog towards him, his dark curls bouncing with every step. 

When he reached him he needed a few seconds to regulate his breathing and then smiled shyly at Minho. 

It was the day - or rather: the evening- after they had kissed in the kitchen for the first time. 

“Where are you going?”

Chan’s question stopped his memories of soft lips touching his own and the younger shrugged. “Going for a walk along the river…” He nudged his head in the direction he had been heading. 

Chan gulped and then: “Can…Can I join you?”

Nervousness bubbled in Minho’s stomach. What if Chan had regrets? He had basically thrown himself at his leader. Without asking or waiting. Maybe Chan had just wanted to tease him and never intended to fully kiss Minho? Did he fucked up? What if he destroyed their friendship, what if…

Minho kept his face unreadable, unwilling to show any of the emotions that roared inside him, and just nodded, resuming his way without another word. 

They had walked, shoulder to shoulder, without talking until they reached the riverbank. Night had fallen a few hours ago and only very few people were walking along the Han River, leaving enough space to talk without being overheard.

The sound of the water calmed Minho's racing thoughts and he made the decision to accept whatever Chan would tell him. He’d take whatever he would get from him. If he wanted to forget what happened yesterday, if he only wanted to be friends then he - Minho - would do everything to keep his feelings to himself and blame his reaction on the few bottles of soju they had. 

“Minho…about…about last night…” Chan began quietly and the dancer’s spine went rigid, and despite his best intentions he started rambling. 

“Hyung, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…I mean, I shouldn’t have done that, I was drunk, I’m sorry. I’m stupid. You have every right to feel assaulted or to be disgusted and everything, I promise it won’t happen again, I…”

Chan suddenly grabbed the sleeve of his T-Shirt and swiftly pulled him into one of the darker alcoves, where the city had provided benches to rest on, partially hidden by Ivy at this time of the year. 

Minho’s mouth snapped shut and he stared at Chan with wide eyes, when the Australian pressed him gently against the wall at the back of the alcove with one of his hands on the dancer's shoulder. Brown, soulful eyes stared into his own, searching, a warm hand resting lightly on his hip. 

He saw Chan’s adam’s apple bob when he swallowed, before quietly asking: “But…but what if I want…?”

His throat seemed to be perched suddenly, making his voice rougher than ever. His pulse hammered in his ears, nearly drowning out his own quiet, raspy answer: “Want…what, hyung?”

Chan licked his slightly chapped lips and Minho’s gaze was immediately drawn to them, remembering how soft and plush they had felt against his own last night. And how he wished…

“What If I want it to happen again…?”

He must be imagining things, right? He misheard. He was hallucinating. Chan didn’t just say…

“Minho, I’d…I’d really like to kiss you again, if you allow me to…”

Okay well…maybe he wasn’t hallucinating after all. Minho became aware that his jaw had dropped somewhere along this - very one sided - conversation and he quickly snapped it shut. 

Slowly Chan’s ears became redder and he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He cleared his throat and the dancer remembered that he hadn’t answered anything, just stared at his friend in utter awe. 

“It’s okay, I’m sorry, obviously I misinterpreted something…I’m sorry Minho, let’s just…”

When Chan started to pull away, Minho’s hand shot forward and grabbed his shirt. Surprised, Chan looked down at his hand and then back at his face, confusion clear in his gaze. 

Minho swallowed hard. “Since…since when do leaders ask, when they want something?” he croaked quietly. A tiny smile tugged at Chan’s lips and his posture relaxed ever so slightly. 

He shrugged. “Well…g-good leaders do, you know?” The blush that crept across his cheeks was absolutely endearing and Minho wanted nothing more to nuzzle against his face, to feel the heat of his skin against his own. 

Instead he cleared his throat too and slowly pulled the other closer again, his hand still buried in Chan’s shirt. “Obviously Best Leaders do too…”

Chan’s barely started protest died immediately when Minho leaned forward and captured his mouth with his. He felt Chan’s hand wander from his shoulder to the side of his neck, up to his jaw, tilting his head ever so slightly to have better access. 

Minho sighed into the kiss and Chan immediately took the chance to lick his tongue over Minho’s lips, asking for entrance. 

The dancer would have loved to go further, to deepen their kiss, hell, if he didn’t get a grip on himself he’d maybe even start living out some of the not so pure fantasies he had about Chan. But a group of girls walking by, giggling loudly among themselves, thankfully brought both of them quickly back to reality, reminding them that they were basically presenting themselves on a silver platter for any paparazzi that might be around. 

Chan broke the kiss, somewhat breathing heavily and scanned Minho’s face for any sign of regret or discomfort. But the younger finally let go of the black shirt and cupped the other's face gently in his palm. Chan immediately closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. 

“We should talk, hyung, don’t you think?” Chan just nodded and reopened his eyes. The look he gave Minho made his knees feel weak. He had never seen someone look at himself with so much love in their gaze…

***

“Chan :P He didn’t confess directly but it was so obvious lol. There’s a time when all of a sudden he gave me a rose and said that he grew it himself for me :< I still have it hehe”

Minho lifted his gaze and looked over at his glass cupboard. There it was. The rose Chan had gifted him all those years ago. Its head frozen forever in a perfectly clear sphere of resin. It’s pink color looking still as beautiful as on the day he got it. Chan had nervously but also excitedly explained that the pink color represented admiration, happiness and love, only to be interrupted by Minho kissing the living daylights out of him. 

Slowly he got up, walked over and opened the cupboard. The crystal ball with the rose lays heavy in his hand. The one thing the resin couldn’t safe was the smell of the flower, so sweet and tender. But it didn’t matter. His mind could still recall it perfectly. He put the souvenir of his past back onto the shelf and turned to his kitchen. 

His first instinct was to make himself a cup of tea, but then he changed his mind. Reaching into his fridge he pulled out an almost full bottle of Soju, took a shot glass from the cupboard above the sink and headed back to the living room.

He had  a feeling he will need this for the following questions. He’s right. 

“What do you miss doing with him?”  

Minho snorts and takes his first shot. They’d be quicker if he explained what he DIDN’T miss to be honest…

“ I miss the video calls. Midnight talks. Our silly little dates. I miss everything.”

“A song that reminds you of him?”  

“What is it with you people? We were in the same band, and he wrote two thirds of our songs! I can’t give you my whole spotify, can I??” Minho rants silently and takes another shot, before thinking about the question in earnest. 

He finally posts a screenshot from his spotify, the cover of the song ‘About you’ from the band The 1975. The lyrics hit home far too close for his own liking, but it is what it is.

“Every song reminds me of him though…”

The next question pops up only seconds after he sends his answer to the previous one. People seem to really enjoy this. He’s just not sure anymore that he himself enjoys it. Maybe he should rather have stayed bored. 

“How much does he mean to you?”   

Minho snorts again and lets his body fall heavily against the backrest, accidentally crashing Dori between his body and the cushions. After following the spooked cat for at least 5 minutes through his whole apartment, sincerely apologizing to the animal all the time, he returns to his place on the couch, picking up his phone from the other end of the furniture, where he had thrown it at Dori’s exasperated yowl.

 “Very much. Words can’t explain how much he means to me.”

“There. Make of that whatever you will…” he grumbles and quickly fills his shot glass two times consecutively. If he keeps this up he’ll be drunk in less than an hour. Maybe not the baddest option for tonight. But he’ll have to tell Seungmin, who lives only five minutes from him these days,  to take his phone away if that happens. Minho is a notorious sender of drunk text messages. 

Sighing he gets up to feed the cats. While he prepares their little dishes his mind wanders back, to one of those nights where he was laying in his bed, his cheek squished against his pillow and his phone propped up against it in front of him, Chan’s face on the little screen in a similar position in his own bed at the 3Racha dorm. 

***

“...and then Seungmin grabbed a handful of ice cubes and shoved them down Innie's shirt. The squeal, hyung, the squeal! It was beautiful.” Minho snorted in amusement. 

Chan giggled heartily, his eyes closed with the force of it and Minho watched him fondly, admiring the little squeaks from the older man and how his body shook with the quiet laughter. Did he know how adorable he looked, when he laughed like this? What it did to Minho's heart? 

“Aish, he’s really a menace. You taught your son well, Minho-yah.” Chan grinned. Minho gasped in fake enragement. “Why is he only MY son when he misbehaves, but yours when he's brilliant, that’s hardly fair, don’t you think?” 

Chan’s grin turned teasing. “Well, I’m obviously not the one who taught him to behave like that, that’s all on you, my love.” Minho rolled his eyes, trying to distract from the blush on his cheeks at Chan’s endearment. Trying not to show, how it made his heart beat faster. 

“Why am I still talking to you?? I want a divorce!”

“Because you love me. And you’ll have to marry me first, to do that.” Chan answered and Minho froze. The older one had a look on his face, like the cat that caught the canary. 

It took the dancer a second to get back his (fake) composure, then he grinned: “Are you proposing to me, hyung?” 

Now it was Chan’s turn to blush. Minho watched as the color crept from his cheeks down his neck and probably the upper part of his chest, which he sadly couldn’t see the way Chan had positioned his phone. It was no secret to anyone how their leader preferred to sleep.

“N-no? At least…at least…”

“At least what, hyung?” Minho giggled. 

Chan looked at him directly suddenly, his face serious suddenly. 

“At least not yet…” he whispered. 

Hm. It seemed that blushing was contagious…

***

“It has never come that far though, has it hyung?” Minho whispered, leaning against his kitchen counter, his arms crossed before his chest, staring into space. 

A sound from the living room, where he left his phone on the coffee table, indicated a new message had arrived. 

Sighing he pushed himself away from the sink and trotted back to his device, his whole body feeling heavy and tired. 

He unlocked his phone and found a message from Jisung. 

“Hyung, what are you doing???? What’s with that insta story???”

It was typical for Jisung to make extra use of punctuation marks, to express the urgency of his messages. Minho poured himself another shot, downed it and then started to type his answer. 

“Was bored”

He knew it would drive his best friend crazy to receive such a short answer, but he didn’t care at the moment. The questions on the social media platform seemed to drain all of his energy at this point. 

Talking of which…

“Ur fav photo together?”

Aish, there were thousands. From screenshots from interviews where they had joked around together, to private pictures taken by the other members, mostly the two of them staring at each other in wonder, looking like the sappiest idiots on this whole planet. PIctures from photo shoots or pictures they took of each other on their different adventures.

Minho scrolled through his special Chan-file in his gallery for at least fifteen minutes, before he stopped suddenly, staring at a picture he took himself. In the picture he looked purposefully annoyed, close to rolling his eyes, while Chan beamed next to him, trying to poke his cheek with his index finger. 

After contemplating for a second he chose the picture, adding some context: “Our first (?) photo together after he asked me to be his boyfriend. “

They had been stealing kisses from each other for days before this. Then Chan had announced that he wanted to “do this right” and took him on a date. An hour later he had asked him the question, saying that he wanted to make it official between them, even if they wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else beside their members in due time.

A small smile tugged at Minho’s face, as he remembered the look of sheer joy lighting up Chan’s face when he had nodded. The older hat engulfed him in a crushing hug, kissing his cheek and laughing happily. 

The smile slowly dissolved at the memory of how their story had ended. He poured himself another shot. He REALLY should tell Seungmin to come and confiscate his phone. This was getting dangerous. The room had already started to sway a tiny bit if he moved his head too fast.

“Was he your first love?”

MInho watched Soonie and Doongie on their cat tree, peacefully cleaning each other's fur, while Dori was nowhere to be seen. It had something calming to watch a cat clean itself, so two cats surely had the double effect?

No Chan hadn’t been his first love. He had been 19 when he joined JYP after all. But…

“He might not have been my first love, but he was the love that made all the other loves irrelevant. He was my greatest love.”

He sent his answer, groaning when he realized what he had written. For fucking sake, he was going to ruin his whole reputation at this point. A small voice in the back of his head asked what he needed that reputation for anyways, he wasn’t “Lee Know” anymore, untouchable dance leader of Stray Kids. 

Now he was just Minho. An ex-idol, a dance teacher, with three cats and a broken heart. 

His phone beeped again. When he unlocked it, he groaned again. 

The group chat with Jisung, Seungmin, Jeongin and Felix had awoken. 

Bbokie: “Hyung”

Bbokie: “Minho hyung!”

Bbokie: “Are you okay?”

Bbokie: “Did someone steal your phone?”

Sungie: “I asked him what this is about, he said he’s bored. But im concerned!!!!!”

Bbokie: “That does NOT sound BORED, Sung!”

Sungie: “YEAH THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN!”

Sungie: “ :-(“

Sungie: “CONCERNED!!!!!!”

Innie: “Can someone please take away Jisung-hyungs coffee, so he’ll stop blowing our phones up in the middle of the night? -.- “

Puppy: “Calm down you two. Hyung probably had too much Soju. Like, it was about to happen these days, right? ”

Bbokie: O_o

Sungie: O_o

Puppy: “Ugh. Does any of you idiots look at the calendar once in a while…?”

Bbokie:  “Oh…”

Sungie: “....It’s…July?”

Puppy: “...Well done Jisung, you can finally read…”

Minho laughed heartily at the snarky response of his dongsaeng. Seconds later his phone started ringing, Seungmin’s name on the display. 

For a second the older contemplated ignoring the call, but he knew exactly what would happen if he didn’t pick up but still answered the questions on instagram. Seungmin would come over and help him stop making a fool of himself, aka taking away his phone until morning and stick him into bed. And suddenly he didn’t want to get rid of his phone this quickly anymore. 

He picked up. 

“What?” he snarled, his tongue already distinctively heavier than an hour ago. 

“Do you need me?” Seungmin asked calmly, not the faintest trace of accusation in his voice. 

“No. I’m compet- compu - aish!- completely fine! I don’t need anyone, Kim Seungmin.” Minho hissed, sudden anger flaring inside his chest. He was the older one, who did that youngling think he was??

Seungmin sighed, as if he was talking to a stubborn child. “Sure, hyung, I know. But remember what we talked about? That you could call me anytime, even if you don’t need anyone?”

All the fight left Minho in an instant. He sighed audibly and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Y-yeah. I remember. I’m sorry, Seungmin-ah. I don’t know why I got so angry.”

“I do, hyung, and it’s okay. Do you hear me? I will never hold it against you, when you lash out. Because I know that you’re not a bad person, but you do it to keep people away from you. So nobody sees how much you are suffering. But you’re not alone, Minho-hyung. We got your back. So please call me, when you need me to take away your phone or anything, ok?”

Minho nodded, his eyes burning at Minnie's quiet but sincere words. Then he remembered that the younger one couldn't see him. “Yeah…I will. I just…I know it sounds stupid, but…I need this. I didn’t know it when it started, but… maybe it helps to get it out there…I’m stupid right?”

“No hyung. It’s not stupid. You’re doing what you should have done ages ago, you talk about it. And if it’s easier for you to talk to anonymous people online, then do it. But promise me to be careful of your heart, ok?”

“I will. I have a feeling I will call you later. Can you… can you please…” - “My phone is active all through the night, I don’t have anything to do tomorrow, Minho-hyung. Call me whenever and I’ll be there in a few minutes, I promise.”

The lump in his throat got bigger and bigger, making it hard for him to speak, but Minho still managed a croaky “Thank you Seungmin.” before hanging up without another word. 

The group chat was bursting with messages, but Minho didn’t bother to read them. They were too far ahead of him anyways. Seungmin would handle it, like he always did. 

There were other questions that waited for an answer, after all. 

“Are you still together rn?”

Thank goodness he didn’t have to talk to answer, he wouldn’t have been able to. His heart, which had suffered small fissures throughout the whole evening, seemed to crack a little at the newest question, a tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. 

“No. I haven’t seen him since we disbanded. He’s in Australia and I heard he’s still making music as a soloist. He performs at night gigs and occasionally meets with stays there. That’s all I heard, haha.”

Minho had never felt less amused in his life than when he was typing that haha at the end. All the information he had about his ex-boyfriend (why the hell did that word hurt so freaking much after all this time?? Minho had trouble breathing properly for a second) came from Felix. The two Aussies were still in contact from time to time, giving each other updates about their lives and their friends. 

The former dance leader had never asked if Chan had mentioned him and Felix had never approached that topic either. Probably because he was too scared to hurt Minho further. It was just the way Felix was: trying to make everyone happy - or at least as happy as possible. His little sunshine. 

“Noooo what *crying emoji* Who broke things off first?”

He laughed without any trace of humor, suddenly feeling like smashing his phone against the opposite wall. Why was that even a question. Did any of them really think that gentle, good, lovely Chan would have been able to do something that hurt Minho this much? No, he was quite able to hurt himself enough, thank you very much. 

With a sardonic smile on his face he started typing his answer: 

“Guess who… yeah it's me, my dumb self. The long distance relationship was bearable for a few months but he got so busy that he couldn’t even bring himself to talk to me for a few minutes. We eventually started to drift apart so I said it would be better if we just break up. I didn’t expect him to agree…”

***

“Hi Hyung.”

Chan’s tired face on the screen stretched into a smile and he waved at the camera. 

“Hi Minho. How are you?”

Minho had to swallow his anger at the question, which sounded like something you’d ask your neighbor when you met him at the garden fence, but not your boyfriend, which you hadn’t seen or heard in two weeks. 

“Good. You?”

“Ah…you know… tired. I had a late night gig yesterday and … yeah, I’m surprisingly not the youngest chap anymore, so my insomnia isn’t as easy to ignore like it was a few years ago.”

Chan smirked, which somehow made the dark circles under his eyes stand out even more and Minho felt the familiar tug at his heart, when the dimple on Chan’s cheek started to show. 

Minho loved that dimple. He had made it his personal quest to always kiss it, when it showed itself. 

He felt concern for the elder build up in his chest at Chan's obvious exhaustion, but he quickly tried to diminish it. 

Without showing any further emotion in his voice he answered matter of factly: “You should still try to sleep more.”

“Yeah. I should…”

Silence started to stretch between them, but it was no comfortable silence. It felt more like both knew what was coming, but no one dared to speak, to not be the one dooming them. Or maybe it was just Minho feeling that way. 

“Hyung..”

“I wanted to tell…”

Ridiculously both started speaking at the same time. Before Minho could tell him to continue, Chan got there first: “Sorry, after you, love.”

A sharp pain flared through Minho at the endearment, quite contrary to the time when Chan had called him that for the first time, all those years ago. Was he really doing the right thing? Maybe he was overreacting? 

But then he shook himself. He remembered all the lonely nights of the last months, where they didn’t even call each other, both of them living their lives as if the other didn’t exist. Drifting apart day by day. Chan had shown no intention for now to come back to Korea. And if he didn’t even have time to call his boyfriend at least every other day after a few months…it clearly showed his priorities, right? And that priority wasn’t Minho. 

“Hyung…I…I don’t…”

How should he do this? His throat seemed to close up every time he tried to say it, as if trying to prevent him from doing it altogether. But if he wanted to have any chance to get over Bang Chan, the man that had ruined him for everyone else already, then he had to man up now. 

Chan’s face was somber, it seemed like he knew what Minho wanted to say. But he didn’t do anything to make it easier for the younger man. Probably he was as afraid of the inevitable as Minho was. 

Minho took a deep breath and blinked rapidly to prevent any tears to show up. 

“Hyung, we haven’t spoken in two weeks. Two weeks. Prior to that you went MIA for one and a half weeks, with no message, no call, nothing.”

His only hyung’s face fell and portrayed a myriad of emotions all of a sudden. Shame. Regret. Hurt. But first and foremost: Fear. 

“I…I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Chan flinched at his words, as if he had poked him with a red-hot iron rod. Minho could relate. He felt the same. But still he continued. 

“I don’t expect to get a call from you every day. I know you are busy and our honeymoon phase is long gone. I get it. But absolutely nothing? Not even a short message ‘I’m still alive but busy’? ‘I haven’t forgotten you, I’m just the same stupid workaholic I’ve been during the last years, who doesn’t get enough sleep or food’? Innie. Changbin. Felix. You even called Hyunjin - HYUNJIN, Chan- three weeks ago, but not me? That hurts!”

Fuck, he forgot to blink. A single tear trailed down his cheek. He didn’t even care to wipe it away. If someone knew how he looked crying, it was Chan. Although admittedly the few times he had cried during the last years hadn’t been from sadness. 

The older man looked completely out of his depths. He sat up and ran a hand through his curls, which seemed even more untamed and fuller since he didn’t have to iron them down anymore. Minho remembered how silken they had felt on his skin, tickling his jaw, when Chan had hid his face in his neck…NO! He couldn’t go there now. 

“Minho…I…”

“We should end it.”

There. He said it. He had spoken the words that had filled his head for weeks now, unable to retrieve them. And he wanted to curl himself into a ball at the pain inside of him, the same pain he saw flash across Chan’s face. More tears joined the first one, but this time he wiped them away angrily, while the other wasn’t looking at him, too occupied with catching his breath obviously.

Seconds of loaded silence passed. Minho had heard that people saw their lives flashing before their eyes when they were about to die. It felt like that right now, his brain showing him thousands upon thousands of stills of his years with Chan. At the dorms, on stage, in the forest, on the bank of the Han river, in his bed…It was appropriate, the dancer thought desperately. His life with Chan WAS ending right now, if not for some sort of miracle.

But there were no miracles in real life. 

“Okay. If…if that's what you want,lo- Minho-yah.”

Now it was Minho’s time to flinch at Chan’s quiet answer. The older one didn't even look at him. But he was crying too. After a second that seemed to last an eternity, he cleared his throat and continued in a hushed tone, his voice rough with tears:

“I am so sorry that I hurt you Minho-yah. That has never ever been my intention. It…it’s not fair to you, that you have to wait for me. But I still want to say thank you, for all these years. I have never been happier, then I have been with you. I hope you can be happier now too…”

Blink. He had to blink. Ah, fuck this, it was too late anyways.

The pain in his chest intensified, as if someone had reached inside his rib cage and was tearing his heart into pieces. 

“Y-you too, hyung. I hope we can be friends again, when we have moved on from this. And I hope you can be happy again with someone new.” The words burned in his throat like acid. He didn’t want Chan to be happy with someone else. He wanted him to be happy with him - Minho! Why wasn’t he fighting for them? Why did he agree so easily?

‘Maybe he had been waiting for it, but was too nice to tell you directly.’ A poisonous voice whispered in the back of his head, trying to reignite the anger from the beginning of the call. But Minho just felt tired. So tired.

“I doubt it…” Chan whispered and threw a short smile towards the camera, a smile that didn’t reach his now dull brown eyes.

A sob tried to fight his way out, but Minho kept it in with all his might, pinching his thigh with force to distract him. It helped only so much.

“I…I tell the others later…” he whispered and Chan only nodded. Every ounce of energy, he seemed to have left when they started talking, had obviously left his body.

“Ok. Goodnight Minho. I wish you all the best for your future.”

Before Minho could answer, Chan had ended the video call. Dumbfounded and in utter surprise the young dancer stared at the now black screen of his phone. In a daze he let it fall from his hand and onto his duvet, before falling sideways into his pillow. Finally - FINALLY - he gave into his tears, allowing every heartbroken sob to wretch itself out of his body, that felt as if it didn’t belong to him anymore. 

What had he done…

***

“Hyung! Hey…Minho hyung!”

A hand on his shoulder shook him gently and when Minho snapped out of his memories, he found Seungmin sitting next to him. When did he arrive? How long had he been trying to get Minho’s attention?

“Wh-what….?”

Slowly Seungmin lifted his hand and with the sleeve of his hoodie he dried the tears that had started to fall upon reminiscing the biggest mistake in his life. 

“You didn’t pick up your phone when I called you half an hour ago and didn’t respond to my texts. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh…”

Minho looked down and stared at the phone in his hand. He hadn’t even heard it. Like on autopilot he unlocked it, finding two  new questions. 

“How much did you love him?”

“Do you still think of him??”

He laughed shortly, although it sounded more manically than amused. He opened his keyboard to start replying, when a cool hand was gently laid on his own. When he looked up he already found Seungmin looking at him.

“Hyung, you know I say this with love, but…do you think it’s wise to respond in your state of mind?”

Minho snorted disparagingly and shook of Seungmins hand with more force than necessary. 

“As if it could get any worse tonight. I’m okay. I'm fine. Absolutely fucking fine.”

Seungmin looked at him for a few more seconds, before he sighed and stood up.

Minho followed his movement, slight panic suddenly bubbling up inside of him. “What are you doing?”

Seungmin turned towards the door. “I’m going home again. You obviously don’t want anyone here, and I’m respecting your wish, hyung. I’ll come back later to check on you.”

The panic overtook Minho in seconds and before the young vocalist could take another step, Minho’s hand shot forward to grab the hem of his hoodie. 

Both men froze and for a few seconds the only thing that could be heard was Dori, getting um from his place on the backrest, stretching and yawning, only to plop down in the exact same position again. 

“Please…please…Minnie…” His voice was only a powerless whisper, but Seungmin still heard him. He turned around and knelt in front of Minho, stroking his knees. 

“What do you want me to do, hyung. Just tell me, it’s okay.”

“D-don’t go. Please don’t go. I’m sorry. Don’t leave me alone.” the older man croaked and when Seungmin immediately sat down next to him again, he slumped against the younger man, his body shaking all over. 

“Shh, it’s okay. I won’t go. Okay? You do what you have to do, and I’ll just hold you until you are ready to go to bed. Does that sound okay, Hyungie?” Seungmin whispered and pressed a quick kiss against Minho’s hair. 

A few years ago Minho would have rather preferred to be dead than be seen crying by his dongsaengs. But times had changed. And he was finally at a point in his life where he could accept the help his younger brother offered so readily.

He nodded and sunk into the younger one's embrace. It took him at least ten minutes to stop his fingers from shaking, so he could finally type his answers. 

“How much did you love him?”  - “Does it matter? because it wasn’t enough to make it work.”

It wasn’t the whole truth though. He had loved him enough to make it work. But hurt pride and being spoiled through the years of seeing each other almost every day he hadn’t been able to listen to his heart anymore. And that had cost him the most precious thing he had ever owned: Chan’s love. 

“Do you still think of him??” - “I do. every single day.”

Seungmin seemed to read along with him, for his fingers shortly spasmed on his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything, just pressed another kiss into his hair. 

Minho felt exhausted. All the crying and the memories really had taken a toll on him. And almost emptying the Soju bottle hadn’t made it any better. Which was maybe also the reason why he suddenly whispered:

“I’m sorry Minnie...I tried. I tried to move on, I really did. You all helped me more times than I can count these last years, but…I can’t do it. I just fucking can’t. I still love him.”

“I know hyung. I do. Don’t apologize. And don’t be afraid of telling us these things. Our friendship and our help isn’t confined to a certain amount of time. We won’t leave you alone, just because others might think that two years is enough time already and that you should now be able to go on.”

A deep sigh escaped the ex-dance leader and he shifted his head so he could look at the other with red-rimmed eyes. “When did you get so wise, Kim Seungmin? Fuck, it’s really scary to watch your kids grow up…”

Both chuckled and Seungmin gently booped his nose. “My mom taught me well…” 

A giggle bubbled up in his throat and soon enough both of them leaned against each other, chuckling. 

Their soft laughter was interrupted by Minho's phone, showing another question. He read it and slowly sat up. Damn, the others weren’t easy by any means, but this one…this one was really hard. 

“What does it say, hyung?”

He held up his phone so Seungmin could read the new question. The vocalist whistled under his breath, then locked eyes with Minho. “Will you answer it?”

Minho cleared his throat, stared at his screen, thought for a second and then nodded. “I will try. Maybe then they are satisfied finally and we can go to bed. Will you stay?” He looked back up at Seungmin, his voice far too hopeful for his liking. But the other just nodded. “Sure thing.”

The elder straightened up and rolled his shoulders to buy himself some time, before he started typing. How often had he wondered what he would say if he had the chance? How often had he laid awake in his bed, trying to express what was going on in his heart and his mind?

“If given a chance, what would you like to say to him?” - “Hi Chan hyung. I may not be there to hold your hand anymore or wake up with you in the morning or hug you, but I hope you’re happier now. Thank you for the ten long years of being with me and making me feel loved, hyung. You will always be my leader and a place I could go to when my mind searches for peace. I cherish every moment we spent together, hyung. Thank you for everything. “

He read his text multiple times. Should he say it differently? Should he better sleep for a few hours and get sober before answering? But it wouldn’t change, he said exactly what he wanted to say. Maybe he had needed the little push the alcohol gave him to be brave enough to say these words ‘out loud’. 

He felt Seungmings cheek against his shoulder, reading what he wrote. But the young man didn’t comment on it and Minho took a deep breath before finally sending it.

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He could have said so much more, but the things he hadn’t included in his message were not for everyone. He would say them only to Chan, if he’d ever get the chance of seeing him again. 

Just as he wanted to close the phone another message popped up:

“Do you still love him?”

He groaned internally. He was tired, his head was hurting from all the crying tonight and he didn’t have enough soju left to go into the depths of his feelings. He should just ignore it. It was 2 am at this point, everyone would understand if he didn’t answer anymore, and if they didn’t - fuck them. 

His finger hovered over the power button. 

Hesitating. 

Contemplating.

Then….

“Just this one. One last answer.” he whispered.

“ I don’t think I’ll ever stop…”

“I really don’t think I ever will, you know?” he murmured, painfully aware that Seungmin was watching his every move. “I will maybe regret this whole thing tomorrow. But on the other hand…I feel lighter now. I didn’t only visit dark places of my mind tonight, but I also remembered so many beautiful times I had with him,which I also suppressed all this time. Our first kiss. The day he asked me to be his boyfriend. The day we told you guys and were so fucking nervous, just to be welcomed by all of you with open arms and hearts. I still hear Jisung squeaking in delight, that Chan wasn’t a single dad anymore…”

Seungmin giggled and gently rubbed Minho’s back. “I remember. What a nutjob.” Both men laughed at that, thinking of their friend and former bandmate, who drove them crazy countless times but was also so endearing and lovely.  

“I’ll go brush my teeth and then I’m off to bed. I'm tired.” Minho mumbled and stood up, only swaying lightly. Slowly he tapped towards the door leading to the hallway. 

Suddenly his phone pinged with a new message, the screen lighting up. 

“No” Minho groaned. “No more questions. I’m done. Fuck you all.”

“Hyung…” Seungmin was bowed over his phone, an incredulous look on his face. “Hyung, you should really read this one.”

“Seungminnie! I’m tired.” he whined. "I don't want …”

“Please. Hyung. You…you really should…”

Surprised Minho noticed the suddenly rough voice of the younger one. Kim Seungmin had never been moved easily, but now, holding up his phone so Minho could take it, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. 

Curiously he stepped closer and took his now dark phone. Unlocked it. Read the text message. Looked at the sender. Read it again. And again. Sat back onto the couch when he felt his knees getting weak all of a sudden. And read it again.

Channie-hyung:

Me too…

Epilogue

“Breathe, Hyung. It will be alright, I promise…” 

Seungmin’s voice over the phone sounded calming but also slightly exasperated. He had been talking to Minho for over an hour now, trying to calm the elder down. 

“I’m trying okay, Seungmin? But…I just…I can’t really believe it…after everything that happened…”

“I know Minho hyung. But it will be okay. I know you. I know him. YOU know him, for fuckings sake, it’s not like it’s a blind date or anything…”

“Do I know him though…?” Minho muttered under his breath. His hands were sweaty and his heart was doing unnatural jumps in his chest, causing him to feel a bit nauseous. 

“What was that?” - “Nothing, just thinking out loud…”

His doorbell rang and Minho squeaked in surprise. He literally fucking squeaked. Well, it seemed like now was the perfect time for him to burn all bridges and move to a different country, never to be seen again. He would never live down this embarrassment.

“Hyung, did you just…?” - “We will never - do you hear me, Kim Seungmin- we will NEVER talk about this anymore, got it??” His dongsaeng giggled mischievously and Minho groaned.

“Yeah, okay hyung, now go get the door. It’s not nice to leave his guests waiting.”

Minho hung up without another word. 

Slower than ever before in his life he made his way over to the intercom of his door. His hand was shaking when he took the receiver. “H-Hello?” He hated how small his voice sounded. He had intended to sound unshaken and cool and impressive, like an actual adult who moved on with his life.

Well. Who was he kidding? Everyone and their mum who read his insta-story from hell knew that he didn’t. Including the man standing in front of his house at this very second. 

“Hey. It’s me.” A soft voice came over the intercom and a shiver ran down Minho’s whole body. Gosh, how could he have such a violent reaction to just three fucking words from the other? How was he supposed to survive a whole conversation at this point??

He cleared his throat, feeling relieved when his voice came out a lot stronger than before, even if it didn’t match how he was feeling at the moment. “Yeah, come in, 8th floor, the door on the left when you leave the elevator.”

Then he pressed the buzzer to open the door. There was no turning back now. In a few seconds he would be here. Standing in Minho’s doorway, stepping into Minho’s apartment. Sitting on Minho’s couch. Drinking Minho’s tea. 

He felt himself spiraling. Why did he agree to this? He was destined to make a fool out of himself. This was bad. Very bad. How should this ever have a good ending? What would it change? Even if they’d have contact again, the circumstances wouldn’t change one bit. It would still be long distance, it would still be a fight against the workaholic persona, it…

His doorbell rang again and Minho held in another squeak at last moments notice. His heart was racing and his fingers trembled. This was it. 

He reached for the door handle and opened. Chan stood leaning against his door frame, clad in his typical black clothes, lifting his head when he heard the door open. His hair had gotten longer and an especially cheeky curl was falling into his eyes constantly. His eyes. The same warm brown he remembered. With a little spark in them that seemed to have vanished the night Minho had ended their relationship. Now it was back. 

“Hi.” Chan murmured and straightened up. “Can I come in?”

Minho realized he had been staring at the other without saying a word or inviting him in. He didn’t know what to say so he just nodded and stepped aside, making way for his hyung to enter his home. He closed the door and stayed frozen in that position for a few seconds.

When he had received Chan’s initial message it had felt as if the floor was giving way beneath him. His stomach had dropped and all the strength had left his body, causing him to almost collapse onto the couch next to Seungmin. 

He couldn’t quite believe it. After all this time? 

They had written a few messages back and forth over the next few days, until Chan had asked if he could visit Minho. He had business in Korea anyways and would take an earlier flight to get there. After reading the message at least 20 times, discussing the topic in the group chat (“Oh my god, I may not be a divorce child anymore soon?” - “Han Jisung, you’re a fucking adult of almost thirty years, get a grip!”), reading the message again a few times and having a tiny little meltdown in his living room that left the cats scared for an hour, he answered. “Sure.”

Yeah, not the most elaborate answer he had ever given in his life, but this wasn’t easy okay? How did someone talk to the person they broke up with years ago, but who was still one of the most important persons in his life? And who - so it seemed - also still had feelings for him. 

“Lino…Look at me please?”

Chan’s soft plea brought him out of his stupor and he slowly let go of the door handle, turning around to his guest. He had already taken off his shoes and was standing two steps behind him, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. Chan’s posture appeared rigid, as if he was holding himself back with all his might. 

His face was neutral but his gaze was so full of emotions, that Minho felt the well-known lump in his throat. If he’d been a bit more relaxed he might have scoffed. How much could a person cry in a specific amount of time, for fucking sake? Was this the payback for not crying throughout his whole time with Stray Kids? 

Chan shifted a bit and Minho saw his muscles flex beneath his tight T-Shirt, filling him with the sudden urge to throw himself at the older man, like all those years ago in the kitchen of their old dorm. To hide his face in his neck, to feel his arms around him in that crushing hug that he missed so bad. But he couldn’t. They had to talk first. Like adults.

“Lino…I know…this probably isn’t right. We should talk first. Like adults. But…please, Minho-yah, please…can I hug you?”

Chan’s voice was so unsure, so frightened, so shaky. It matched Minho’s feelings perfectly. With a small sob he launched himself into the others arms, making him stumble for a second, but Chan caught him and quickly regained his posture, pressing Minho’s lither body against his own broad chest and buried his face in his shoulder. 

“I missed you…Min,  I missed you so goddamn much, love…I can’t even explain…It feels like I finally can breathe properly again…please, I’m begging you…I’m begging you on my knees, please give this…  us…another chance…” Chan murmured, while rocking them from side to side, his hand gently carding through Minho’s hair, while the younger one was shaken by violent sobs. 

“I’m so s-sorry, hyung…I  w-was so s-stupid…I’m s-sorry…Please….please forgive me…” Minho cried, clawing his hands into Chan’s shirt, as if the other would appear the second he let go of the fabric.

The strength in his legs vanished and Chan slowly guided them to the floor, pulling Minho into his lap as soon as he sat back against the wall of the hallway. He gently caressed the others back, pressing his face against Chan’s neck and his cheek against Minho’s wet one. Well, it wasn’t as if Chan’s cheek was dry. 

After a few minutes Minho’s crying slowed down, reducing to occasional hiccups. His hand was still holding onto Chan’s shirt, right above the other’s heart, and Minho could feel it beating strong and steadily under his fingers. How often had he fallen asleep to Chan’s heartbeat, his head laying on the other's naked chest? How often had he pressed his hand above it, to feel the others racing pulse after they made love? How often had he let himself be calmed down by the steady beating, when Chan had sheltered him in his arms because the world had been too much to handle sometimes?

Just like he did now. 

“I was so stupid, hyung. A spoiled brat, that couldn’t stand not being around you almost 24/7, not having your full attention all the time. It made me so angry that you suddenly didn’t seem to prioritize me anymore. It was a childish reaction…” Minho murmured, his head leaning against Chan’s shoulder, his hyung’s strong arms wrapped around him, warm and protective. 

“I get it, Minho. I really do. It wasn’t your fault entirely, it was mine too. I really should have given you more time, especially because we only had texting and video calls to keep contact. I fucked up royally, and I’m sorry kitten…” Chan’s voice rumbled low in his chest and Minho tried to suppress a shudder at the nickname, failing horrendously. 

“What if…” Minho whispered and, after swallowing hard, lifted his head towards Chan. “What if we agree on that we both fucked up, we both were idiots, we both try to learn from our mistakes?”

Chan studied Minho’s face and slowly lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Minho shuddered at the contact and leaned into the touch when the older man cupped his cheek in his palm. 

“I can live with that.” he whispered and gently caressed Minho’s cheek with his thumb. 

Minho laid his hand onto Chan’s and met the elder’s gaze. “Hyung?”

“Yes, love?” 

“We were never stereotypical, right?”

Chan huffed a laugh and shook his head, meeting Minho's big round boba eyes again. “No, sweetheart. We never were.”

“Hm.” Minho nodded, as if Chan’s answer had confirmed a complicated theory he had. “You see…” he began, his fingers gripping the older man’s hand a bit harder. “I don’t … want to start that now. We are…already doing everything out of order, right? Hugging first, breakdown next, talking at the end…”

Chan’s lips twitched and he swept his thumb over Minho’s cheekbone again. “Yes, I see what you mean, Minho…”

“So…theoretically…just…what if…” Minho stammered, his eyes flitting around, looking at everything but Chan, although his heart yearned for it with a force that took him by surprise. As if a part of him was screaming “You deprived us so long of his face, look at him for as long as you can, idiot!”

“Yes?”

A smile tugged at his hyung’s mouth and then it finally happened. Minho saw his favorite dimple again, there, right in front of him, in touching distance. He’d just have to lift his hand and…

His eyes finally snapped to Chan’s, surprising the older with the sudden fire in them. 

“So theoretically, if I was about to kiss you, right now…Would you mind?” 

There was an absolute silence for three abhorrently long seconds, then Chan quickly leaned forward and kissed him. Minho tasted the salt of their tears, Chan’s strawberry chapstick and just…him. It felt like coming home. As if he had been wandering blindly through a dark forest, lost his way, only to be brought back home by the man before him.

They would make it work. They could do it. Minho would make sure of it.