Ship/Member: gyuhan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: N/A Permission to remix: Yes
***
Mingyu goes back. He always goes back. The Earth rotates around the sun, the moon around the Earth and Mingyu around Jeonghan.
It’s pathetic.
They fought about Minghao this time, again, like every time, and how Mingyu takes photos and photos and photos of him and then paints him but won’t spend time with Jeonghan.
“I live with you,” Mingyu said.
“You paint him like you love him,” Jeonghan spit, and Mingyu had left before either of their tempers had consumed the entire apartment.
Now, Mingyu punches in the code and slips in. Jeonghan’s on the couch, wrapped in a blanket — the one Mingyu uses when they catch up with their dramas on the weekends — and drinking tea.
He turns when he hears the door. His eyes are red, and his nose. “Gyu-yah,” he says, voice small. It melts Mingyu’s spine, any leftover frustration slipping away.
Pathetic, pathetic.
“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan says as the door closes behind Mingyu. Mingyu knows he’s sorry.
“I’m sorry too,” he says.
He walks over to the couch, sits down beside Jeonghan. He tips over, head into Jeonghan’s lap. The news is playing the weather report. Snow in the forecast, in two days. Mingyu will need to bring the plants in off the balcony. He feels Jeonghan’s sharp fingers find his scalp. The scratches sting, but in the way Mingyu likes.
Isn’t that a metaphor?
“You have to stop thinking I don’t love you,” he says, and Jeonghan’s fingers stop for a moment before scratching through.
“I know,” he says, voice still small. “It’s hard to believe you do.”
Mingyu loves him so much that he feels devoured by it, half-eaten, legless and crawling on his hands just so he might get a kind word.
“Let me paint you,” he says, “Please.”
It’s the only thing he knows to say. Jeonghan always denies him.
“I’m afraid,” he says, voice cracking. “Of what it would look like. Of what I would see.”
It’s the most Mingyu has ever gotten from him. He sits up, puts his hand on Jeonghan’s thigh. “You’d see how I see you.”
“You think that’s not what I’m afraid of?”
Mingyu swallows. He doesn’t know what to say. “Please,” he says. “Just once.”
Jeonghan looks at him, his dark eyes meeting Mingyu’s, soft and open and vulnerable. This is how Mingyu will paint him, he decides. Open, hands outstretched, offering his heart.
He only hopes Jeonghan knows this is his way of offering his own.
[FILL] - eye of the beholder
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: N/A
Permission to remix: Yes
***
Mingyu goes back. He always goes back. The Earth rotates around the sun, the moon around the Earth and Mingyu around Jeonghan.
It’s pathetic.
They fought about Minghao this time, again, like every time, and how Mingyu takes photos and photos and photos of him and then paints him but won’t spend time with Jeonghan.
“I live with you,” Mingyu said.
“You paint him like you love him,” Jeonghan spit, and Mingyu had left before either of their tempers had consumed the entire apartment.
Now, Mingyu punches in the code and slips in. Jeonghan’s on the couch, wrapped in a blanket — the one Mingyu uses when they catch up with their dramas on the weekends — and drinking tea.
He turns when he hears the door. His eyes are red, and his nose. “Gyu-yah,” he says, voice small. It melts Mingyu’s spine, any leftover frustration slipping away.
Pathetic, pathetic.
“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan says as the door closes behind Mingyu. Mingyu knows he’s sorry.
“I’m sorry too,” he says.
He walks over to the couch, sits down beside Jeonghan. He tips over, head into Jeonghan’s lap. The news is playing the weather report. Snow in the forecast, in two days. Mingyu will need to bring the plants in off the balcony. He feels Jeonghan’s sharp fingers find his scalp. The scratches sting, but in the way Mingyu likes.
Isn’t that a metaphor?
“You have to stop thinking I don’t love you,” he says, and Jeonghan’s fingers stop for a moment before scratching through.
“I know,” he says, voice still small. “It’s hard to believe you do.”
Mingyu loves him so much that he feels devoured by it, half-eaten, legless and crawling on his hands just so he might get a kind word.
“Let me paint you,” he says, “Please.”
It’s the only thing he knows to say. Jeonghan always denies him.
“I’m afraid,” he says, voice cracking. “Of what it would look like. Of what I would see.”
It’s the most Mingyu has ever gotten from him. He sits up, puts his hand on Jeonghan’s thigh. “You’d see how I see you.”
“You think that’s not what I’m afraid of?”
Mingyu swallows. He doesn’t know what to say. “Please,” he says. “Just once.”
Jeonghan looks at him, his dark eyes meeting Mingyu’s, soft and open and vulnerable. This is how Mingyu will paint him, he decides. Open, hands outstretched, offering his heart.
He only hopes Jeonghan knows this is his way of offering his own.