Ship/Member: Joshua/Mingyu Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: smoking, ambiguous relationships, shua with a motorcycle, he's kind of a mess and we love him for it Permission to remix: Yes
***
The expanse of Seoul stretches across the horizon, city lights shining against the night sky like so many earthbound constellations. It’s beautiful, but does little to quiet the swirling thoughts in Joshua’s head. At least the lookout point he’s at is empty, leaving Joshua to have his crisis in peace. Funny how he came all the way out here to get Mingyu out of his head, only to remember once he arrived that the person who originally showed him this place was Mingyu, back when they first started doing… whatever it is they’re doing.
Joshua sighs and leans back against the motorcycle he’d used to escape the heart of the city. The bike is stolen, like so many other things in Joshua’s life. Stolen opportunities, stolen moments, things he didn’t deserve but greedily took all the same. He hadn’t even bothered to grab the keys out of Mingyu’s pocket— he’d just taken the entire jacket, wrapped it around his shoulders and surrounded himself in the scent of faded cigarette smoke and expensive cologne. Mingyu will notice the jacket is missing once he wakes up. The thought brings Joshua a twisted kind of satisfaction, an assurance that Mingyu will be forced to think of him, will have no choice but to miss him.
(He’d miss him anyway. He does all the time— at least that’s what he says every time they meet up, the words mumbled against Joshua’s neck as he pulls him close. But it’s hard for Joshua to accept that someone would miss him for himself, and not for the things he either leaves behind or steals away. After all, what does he have to offer other than a defective heart that sends him running into the night when he wakes up beside someone and realizes that he might love them?)
Joshua digs out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. The pack had already been in Mingyu’s jacket when he put it on, but they’re the brand Joshua prefers. He watches the way the smoke dissipates into the night air, and wonders what it would feel like to be able to float away.
His phone buzzes with an incoming call from Mingyu. Joshua slides his thumb across the screen, rejecting it. Not even a minute later his phone is vibrating again. Joshua takes one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out. He doesn’t really want to talk to Mingyu right now, but he also doesn’t actually want the cops called on him for theft. He exhales the smoke as he accepts the call.
“Hyung? Where are you?”
Mingyu’s voice crackles through the speaker, but Joshua can still clearly hear the way it’s still thick with sleep, rough around the edges and slow like honey.
“I came out for a ride.”
“A ride?” There’s a moment of confused silence that Joshua doesn’t bother to break, and then, “Ah, you took the bike?”
“Yeah.”
A rustling of sheets, like Mingyu is still in bed. Joshua frowns, pulling his lip between his teeth to worry at the chapped skin. If Mingyu is in bed, then he isn’t calling because he noticed his missing bike, or his missing jacket. He’s calling because—
“I woke up and you weren’t here.” The pout in Mingyu’s voice is clear even through the phone. “Are you coming back soon?”
Joshua tilts his head back, looking up at where the stars would be if they weren’t obscured by layers upon layers of pollution. “Maybe,” he says. His stomach feels weird, acid creeping up his throat. He doesn’t want to go back tonight. Mingyu’s familiar warmth is incendiary, and if Joshua returns to his arms he’ll just end up setting them both alight. “Probably not.”
Another beat of silence. “Alright.” More rustling sheets, then a quiet sigh. “Stay safe. Please don’t crash my bike.”
Joshua chokes on a laugh. “Don’t worry, I know how precious your bike is.”
“You’re precious, too.”
Joshua’s fingers tighten around his phone, glass and plastic digging into flesh. A thousand words flood into his mouth, but he swallows them back. The truth is a tidal wave he keeps tucked behind his teeth, the salt of it stinging his tongue. Too scared to speak and too stubborn to admit it.
“I’m hanging up,” he says instead, hating that it sounds like a plea.
“Okay. Goodnight, hyung.”
Joshua ends the call. He shoves the phone back into his pocket (Mingyu’s pocket), puts on his helmet (Mingyu’s helmet), and gets on his bike (Mingyu’s bike). When he starts up the bike, he heads toward the closest expressway that will take him south.
Maybe he’ll go all the way to fucking Busan, he doesn’t know. He’s willing to go anywhere tonight, as long as it isn’t back to Mingyu. As long as it isn’t back home.
[FILL] anywhere but home
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: smoking, ambiguous relationships, shua with a motorcycle, he's kind of a mess and we love him for it
Permission to remix: Yes
***
The expanse of Seoul stretches across the horizon, city lights shining against the night sky like so many earthbound constellations. It’s beautiful, but does little to quiet the swirling thoughts in Joshua’s head. At least the lookout point he’s at is empty, leaving Joshua to have his crisis in peace. Funny how he came all the way out here to get Mingyu out of his head, only to remember once he arrived that the person who originally showed him this place was Mingyu, back when they first started doing… whatever it is they’re doing.
Joshua sighs and leans back against the motorcycle he’d used to escape the heart of the city. The bike is stolen, like so many other things in Joshua’s life. Stolen opportunities, stolen moments, things he didn’t deserve but greedily took all the same. He hadn’t even bothered to grab the keys out of Mingyu’s pocket— he’d just taken the entire jacket, wrapped it around his shoulders and surrounded himself in the scent of faded cigarette smoke and expensive cologne. Mingyu will notice the jacket is missing once he wakes up. The thought brings Joshua a twisted kind of satisfaction, an assurance that Mingyu will be forced to think of him, will have no choice but to miss him.
(He’d miss him anyway. He does all the time— at least that’s what he says every time they meet up, the words mumbled against Joshua’s neck as he pulls him close. But it’s hard for Joshua to accept that someone would miss him for himself, and not for the things he either leaves behind or steals away. After all, what does he have to offer other than a defective heart that sends him running into the night when he wakes up beside someone and realizes that he might love them?)
Joshua digs out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up. The pack had already been in Mingyu’s jacket when he put it on, but they’re the brand Joshua prefers. He watches the way the smoke dissipates into the night air, and wonders what it would feel like to be able to float away.
His phone buzzes with an incoming call from Mingyu. Joshua slides his thumb across the screen, rejecting it. Not even a minute later his phone is vibrating again. Joshua takes one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out. He doesn’t really want to talk to Mingyu right now, but he also doesn’t actually want the cops called on him for theft. He exhales the smoke as he accepts the call.
“Hyung? Where are you?”
Mingyu’s voice crackles through the speaker, but Joshua can still clearly hear the way it’s still thick with sleep, rough around the edges and slow like honey.
“I came out for a ride.”
“A ride?” There’s a moment of confused silence that Joshua doesn’t bother to break, and then, “Ah, you took the bike?”
“Yeah.”
A rustling of sheets, like Mingyu is still in bed. Joshua frowns, pulling his lip between his teeth to worry at the chapped skin. If Mingyu is in bed, then he isn’t calling because he noticed his missing bike, or his missing jacket. He’s calling because—
“I woke up and you weren’t here.” The pout in Mingyu’s voice is clear even through the phone. “Are you coming back soon?”
Joshua tilts his head back, looking up at where the stars would be if they weren’t obscured by layers upon layers of pollution. “Maybe,” he says. His stomach feels weird, acid creeping up his throat. He doesn’t want to go back tonight. Mingyu’s familiar warmth is incendiary, and if Joshua returns to his arms he’ll just end up setting them both alight. “Probably not.”
Another beat of silence. “Alright.” More rustling sheets, then a quiet sigh. “Stay safe. Please don’t crash my bike.”
Joshua chokes on a laugh. “Don’t worry, I know how precious your bike is.”
“You’re precious, too.”
Joshua’s fingers tighten around his phone, glass and plastic digging into flesh. A thousand words flood into his mouth, but he swallows them back. The truth is a tidal wave he keeps tucked behind his teeth, the salt of it stinging his tongue. Too scared to speak and too stubborn to admit it.
“I’m hanging up,” he says instead, hating that it sounds like a plea.
“Okay. Goodnight, hyung.”
Joshua ends the call. He shoves the phone back into his pocket (Mingyu’s pocket), puts on his helmet (Mingyu’s helmet), and gets on his bike (Mingyu’s bike). When he starts up the bike, he heads toward the closest expressway that will take him south.
Maybe he’ll go all the way to fucking Busan, he doesn’t know. He’s willing to go anywhere tonight, as long as it isn’t back to Mingyu. As long as it isn’t back home.