Ship/Member: Seungkwan & Mingyu Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: post-hook up; exes Permission to remix: Yes
fulfilling my yearly exes 17hols fill quota
***
Discomfort casts an uncertain light over the kitchen table and sticks to the soles of Seungkwan’s feet like stray grains of rice. The consistent bzzt bzzt bzzt of a cell phone that doesn't belong to him is what propels him out of bed, seconds from punting it through the window. Instead, he picks up his own phone.
can u stop calling. u know exactly where he is and no i don't want to talk about it yet
It’s no surprise that Mingyu is up and moving before Seungkwan has even so much has brushed his teeth. Even when they were together, he was like this. Awake at the crack of dawn, no matter what time he'd fallen asleep.
It's like all of that energy his big body produces can't find somewhere to go. Seungkwan found it endearing not even six whole months ago. Now, he still stands stock still at the edge of the room. There are two halves of his exhausted whole, one side feeling lingering arousal and the other annoyed.
It’s a mixed bag of emotions, watching Mingyu move like he still belongs here. When the last box had been picked up, Seungkwan had strewn the entire contents of the kitchen shelves onto the tiny counter space. Changed the orientation of their—his—bedroom. Gotten piss-drunk, called Joshua to try to convince him to redecorate his living room. Spent too much money on Coupang trying to create distance. An oasis.
Shaking the Etch-a-Sketch illusion to give himself a blank slate.
So much for that.
Mingyu jumps a little at the sight of Seungkwan standing limply in the hall, and watches Seungkwan watch him back.
“Don’t say it was a mistake.”
Brows furrowed, posture suddenly ramrod straight, Mingyu turns his attention back to the stone bowl on the cooktop. “It didn’t feel wrong to me.”
Homemade rice wine and distance doesn't pair well with well-placed compliments and a tactile love language, and Mingyu is here, shirtless in Seungkwan’s apartment, pink lines etched into his shoulder blades. (They’re broken up, but he’s not so dead to not still be attracted to him physically.)
Seungkwan saunters past him and reaches past Mingyu for the cabinets, pulling out two bowls. “I wasn’t going to say it was a mistake.”
Yes, he was. The side eye that Mingyu throws in his direction is knowing, and Seungkwan raises his hands in defeat.
“Okay, you got me,” he concedes. Metal chopsticks clatter inside of the ceramics. “We didn’t exactly end things amicably.”
The expressions that dance across Mingyu's face are a kaleidoscope. Little fractured emotions before he lands on something more somber.
“You said you still loved me.” A little wistful.
And that's the thing, isn't it? Love cannot be destroyed, only remade or moved in part to something else. It's not none or all, but more like an elementary school math equation.
If you spend six years of your life with someone and love them with your whole heart, how much love are they left with even after they break the lease?
Seungkwan coughs, turning away as he does before moving to rifle through the fridge. Heat prickles up his spine.
FILL: one more time, please
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: post-hook up; exes
Permission to remix: Yes
fulfilling my yearly exes 17hols fill quota
***
Discomfort casts an uncertain light over the kitchen table and sticks to the soles of Seungkwan’s feet like stray grains of rice. The consistent bzzt bzzt bzzt of a cell phone that doesn't belong to him is what propels him out of bed, seconds from punting it through the window. Instead, he picks up his own phone.
can u stop calling. u know exactly where he is
and no i don't want to talk about it yet
It’s no surprise that Mingyu is up and moving before Seungkwan has even so much has brushed his teeth. Even when they were together, he was like this. Awake at the crack of dawn, no matter what time he'd fallen asleep.
It's like all of that energy his big body produces can't find somewhere to go. Seungkwan found it endearing not even six whole months ago. Now, he still stands stock still at the edge of the room. There are two halves of his exhausted whole, one side feeling lingering arousal and the other annoyed.
It’s a mixed bag of emotions, watching Mingyu move like he still belongs here. When the last box had been picked up, Seungkwan had strewn the entire contents of the kitchen shelves onto the tiny counter space. Changed the orientation of their—his—bedroom. Gotten piss-drunk, called Joshua to try to convince him to redecorate his living room. Spent too much money on Coupang trying to create distance. An oasis.
Shaking the Etch-a-Sketch illusion to give himself a blank slate.
So much for that.
Mingyu jumps a little at the sight of Seungkwan standing limply in the hall, and watches Seungkwan watch him back.
“Don’t say it was a mistake.”
Brows furrowed, posture suddenly ramrod straight, Mingyu turns his attention back to the stone bowl on the cooktop. “It didn’t feel wrong to me.”
Homemade rice wine and distance doesn't pair well with well-placed compliments and a tactile love language, and Mingyu is here, shirtless in Seungkwan’s apartment, pink lines etched into his shoulder blades. (They’re broken up, but he’s not so dead to not still be attracted to him physically.)
Seungkwan saunters past him and reaches past Mingyu for the cabinets, pulling out two bowls. “I wasn’t going to say it was a mistake.”
Yes, he was. The side eye that Mingyu throws in his direction is knowing, and Seungkwan raises his hands in defeat.
“Okay, you got me,” he concedes. Metal chopsticks clatter inside of the ceramics. “We didn’t exactly end things amicably.”
The expressions that dance across Mingyu's face are a kaleidoscope. Little fractured emotions before he lands on something more somber.
“You said you still loved me.” A little wistful.
And that's the thing, isn't it? Love cannot be destroyed, only remade or moved in part to something else. It's not none or all, but more like an elementary school math equation.
If you spend six years of your life with someone and love them with your whole heart, how much love are they left with even after they break the lease?
Seungkwan coughs, turning away as he does before moving to rifle through the fridge. Heat prickles up his spine.
“Do you want to try the ginger tea I made?”