Ship/Member: Minghao/Yixing (EXO) Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: implied Minghao/Jungkook(/Yoongi), idolverse, friends with benefits, unrequited love, implied sexual content Permission to remix: Please ask! WC:1153
A/N: SO thankful that i have held onto my annual 17hols haoxing like a wildcard all this time, because i get to play that card here and now :)) ***
Seoul sits on Yixing’s shoulders like an ill-fitted suit even more so now that he knows he’s spending the night alone.
He could go out. He could call back the guys he had met officially earlier than day and take them for a drink. He has friends, still, in the city—many of whom would undoubtedly be awake at this hour. He could even stop by a friend’s studio and put his mind to something useful.
Neither music nor alcohol can counter this residual bitterness, that he knows. Not when all he will be able to think about is where he was supposed to be—and who might be taking Yixing’s place.
He didn’t come to Seoul just for that but the business he came for could have taken place without his presence—everybody involved is aware of that.
And yet, despite the sudden change in plans, despite the sleepless night ahead, given the chance again, Yixing knows he’ll be boarding a flight again. Discreetly. Slipping in and out of locked doors for a fleeting touch, again and again.
Unfinished business always takes its toll and return journeys don’t quite hold the promise of a neat and tidy ending but this is a well-worn habit Yixing keeps failing to kick to the curb.
*
When Yixing went back for good that first time, he had promised himself when he returned to Seoul, he would make Incheon light up so bright there would be not mistaking what he had made of himself.
Yixing took the first flight back in merely 20 months since he left.
Nothing awaits him at the airport except an unmarked SUV and the keys to a shared dorm he should not know the location of.
*
Is it love: to want something that is distanced from you close again?
Or is it obsession, to cling onto that which has always tried to part from you—to try and rewrite a story though you started with undisputable knowledge of the ending?
Can it be love at all? When the only language they learn to speak is through their bodies, and even in that to never make room for the bare honesty of taking each other’s given names?
Yixing doesn’t know—and he doesn’t try to find out.
He’s too busy after all.
*
“Xu Minghao.”
“Ah…that’s a pretty name.”
“I—”
Myungho-yah the car is waiting for us!!
“It was nice meeting you, sunbaenim. It—it’s an honour.”
Yixing has just turned 25 and he, 19.
*
Yixing is happy—openly, unflinchingly, generously—for the few months that the hiatus lasts.
[September to December] he’s marked on his personal calender, the only kind of marker he’s at liberty to keep in a relationship where both parties play ghosts.
It’s an autumn of new memories and a winter of small joys stolen between even more shoots and secret flights, from Beijing to Anshan, Anshan to Shanghai, Anshan to Changsha—a map of his heart etched onto the airways with all routes leading to Anshan.
His happiness shows: on the programs he shoots, in the music he writes and in every second that he allows himself to hold on to Minghao longer.
It must be amply transparent to Minghao too, but Yixing can no longer read Minghao like he used to, can’t foray into the territories beyond what he is permitted to touch and see.
*
They get caught on their very first time together—and it should have ended then itself. Maybe it’s kindness that has Junmyeon keep his silence, maybe it’s pity: for a friend about to embark on a lonely journey with no guaranteed returns.
Junmyeon can’t offer him advice from his position, neither can he claim a sense of understanding, having lived and worked his whole life in the country he belonged to.
Maybe he is grateful, then, to get the opportunity to at least keep Yixing’s secrets.
Yixing finishes his round of concerts in the Philippines and flies home after almost seven years, all thoughts of Xu Minghao pushed to the farther corners of his mind.
It doesn’t last.
*
Yixing builds his empire, Minghao builds himself.
*
The first time Minghao returns to himChina, Yixing braces himself for things to be different.
They’re not—and they are.
Minghao doesn’t push him away when Yixing knocks on his hotel door—he still sighs just as prettily into his pillow when the night ends.
And yet his face—the face of someone Yixing has known intimately for years—is unrecognizable.
Not just in private but at work, too.
Everything from the drop of his long hair on his shoulders to the way he speaks to the trainees is unlike whatever Yixing has known of him.
He’s self-assured and wise beyond his years when talking to his peers, and sharp and incisive when making comments on improvements to be made, and it’s well and good enough except Yixing gets the feeling that it’s all for the sake of someone not even in the room with them.
*
There are traces of jasmine, rose, hibiscus and lavender littered through the apartment but Yixing has always been served the same singular cup of nokcha on every visit before he’s been shown the door.
Minghao’s only ever been exceedingly sweet and polite to him, which is to say, no matter how many times they have stripped each other down to nothing—there are certain lines they have absolutely never crossed.
*
Yixing turns 26, 27, 28—he turns 31. Whenever the call comes, he takes to the skies.
*
Yixing doesn’t spend his time around Minghao moping and waiting on a returned confession, when he hasn’t made one in the first place. Too much sacrifice has gone into reaching this point—and what he feels for Minghao, unnameable as it shall remain, is not enough to override every dream his younger self has fought for.
A hot pack slipped into Minghao’s trembling hands, a coat thrown over his knees with a shrug while the rest of the crew on the broadcast coo at him—that’s about as much he can do; he is made of greater discipline after all.
But Minghao makes it waver like no one else ever has. Makes him wanna plead and beg stay with me, or let me have all of you or please don’t keep me waiting forever and even more things: unmentionable.
He doesn’t though.
He has spied traces of the ash on Minghao’s balcony, smelled the smoke on Minghao’s pillow one too many times to not know.
Minghao is not a smoker and Yixing has always taken great care to avoid doing the same in his company after all.
He can beg and plead—it doesn’t make him any smaller to do so—and he can ask Minghao for closure to this relentless agony that has a hold on him…but how can he, when the signs of whatever Minghao is going through are only too familiar for Yixing to recognise?
*
little 8 Need to take a raincheck for tonight, I’m so sorry, ge~ 12:19 am ✓✓
[REMIX] every song of this country has an unsung third stanza
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: implied Minghao/Jungkook(/Yoongi), idolverse, friends with benefits, unrequited love, implied sexual content
Permission to remix: Please ask!
WC:1153
A/N: SO thankful that i have held onto my annual 17hols haoxing like a wildcard all this time, because i get to play that card here and now :))
***
Seoul sits on Yixing’s shoulders like an ill-fitted suit even more so now that he knows he’s spending the night alone.
He could go out. He could call back the guys he had met officially earlier than day and take them for a drink. He has friends, still, in the city—many of whom would undoubtedly be awake at this hour. He could even stop by a friend’s studio and put his mind to something useful.
Neither music nor alcohol can counter this residual bitterness, that he knows. Not when all he will be able to think about is where he was supposed to be—and who might be taking Yixing’s place.
He didn’t come to Seoul just for that but the business he came for could have taken place without his presence—everybody involved is aware of that.
And yet, despite the sudden change in plans, despite the sleepless night ahead, given the chance again, Yixing knows he’ll be boarding a flight again. Discreetly. Slipping in and out of locked doors for a fleeting touch, again and again.
Unfinished business always takes its toll and return journeys don’t quite hold the promise of a neat and tidy ending but this is a well-worn habit Yixing keeps failing to kick to the curb.
*
When Yixing went back for good that first time, he had promised himself when he returned to Seoul, he would make Incheon light up so bright there would be not mistaking what he had made of himself.
Yixing took the first flight back in merely 20 months since he left.
Nothing awaits him at the airport except an unmarked SUV and the keys to a shared dorm he should not know the location of.
*
Is it love: to want something that is distanced from you close again?
Or is it obsession, to cling onto that which has always tried to part from you—to try and rewrite a story though you started with undisputable knowledge of the ending?
Can it be love at all? When the only language they learn to speak is through their bodies, and even in that to never make room for the bare honesty of taking each other’s given names?
Yixing doesn’t know—and he doesn’t try to find out.
He’s too busy after all.
*
“Xu Minghao.”
“Ah…that’s a pretty name.”
“I—”
Myungho-yah the car is waiting for us!!
“It was nice meeting you, sunbaenim. It—it’s an honour.”
Yixing has just turned 25 and he, 19.
*
Yixing is happy—openly, unflinchingly, generously—for the few months that the hiatus lasts.
[September to December] he’s marked on his personal calender, the only kind of marker he’s at liberty to keep in a relationship where both parties play ghosts.
It’s an autumn of new memories and a winter of small joys stolen between even more shoots and secret flights, from Beijing to Anshan, Anshan to Shanghai, Anshan to Changsha—a map of his heart etched onto the airways with all routes leading to Anshan.
His happiness shows: on the programs he shoots, in the music he writes and in every second that he allows himself to hold on to Minghao longer.
It must be amply transparent to Minghao too, but Yixing can no longer read Minghao like he used to, can’t foray into the territories beyond what he is permitted to touch and see.
*
They get caught on their very first time together—and it should have ended then itself.
Maybe it’s kindness that has Junmyeon keep his silence, maybe it’s pity: for a friend about to embark on a lonely journey with no guaranteed returns.
Junmyeon can’t offer him advice from his position, neither can he claim a sense of understanding, having lived and worked his whole life in the country he belonged to.
Maybe he is grateful, then, to get the opportunity to at least keep Yixing’s secrets.
Yixing finishes his round of concerts in the Philippines and flies home after almost seven years, all thoughts of Xu Minghao pushed to the farther corners of his mind.
It doesn’t last.
*
Yixing builds his empire, Minghao builds himself.
*
The first time Minghao returns to
himChina, Yixing braces himself for things to be different.They’re not—and they are.
Minghao doesn’t push him away when Yixing knocks on his hotel door—he still sighs just as prettily into his pillow when the night ends.
And yet his face—the face of someone Yixing has known intimately for years—is unrecognizable.
Not just in private but at work, too.
Everything from the drop of his long hair on his shoulders to the way he speaks to the trainees is unlike whatever Yixing has known of him.
He’s self-assured and wise beyond his years when talking to his peers, and sharp and incisive when making comments on improvements to be made, and it’s well and good enough except Yixing gets the feeling that it’s all for the sake of someone not even in the room with them.
*
There are traces of jasmine, rose, hibiscus and lavender littered through the apartment but Yixing has always been served the same singular cup of nokcha on every visit before he’s been shown the door.
Minghao’s only ever been exceedingly sweet and polite to him, which is to say, no matter how many times they have stripped each other down to nothing—there are certain lines they have absolutely never crossed.
*
Yixing turns 26, 27, 28—he turns 31. Whenever the call comes, he takes to the skies.
*
Yixing doesn’t spend his time around Minghao moping and waiting on a returned confession, when he hasn’t made one in the first place. Too much sacrifice has gone into reaching this point—and what he feels for Minghao, unnameable as it shall remain, is not enough to override every dream his younger self has fought for.
A hot pack slipped into Minghao’s trembling hands, a coat thrown over his knees with a shrug while the rest of the crew on the broadcast coo at him—that’s about as much he can do; he is made of greater discipline after all.
But Minghao makes it waver like no one else ever has. Makes him wanna plead and beg stay with me, or let me have all of you or please don’t keep me waiting forever and even more things: unmentionable.
He doesn’t though.
He has spied traces of the ash on Minghao’s balcony, smelled the smoke on Minghao’s pillow one too many times to not know.
Minghao is not a smoker and Yixing has always taken great care to avoid doing the same in his company after all.
He can beg and plead—it doesn’t make him any smaller to do so—and he can ask Minghao for closure to this relentless agony that has a hold on him…but how can he, when the signs of whatever Minghao is going through are only too familiar for Yixing to recognise?
*
little 8
Need to take a raincheck for tonight, I’m so sorry, ge~
12:19 am ✓✓