Ship/Member: Gyuhan Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: going for an end of the world picnic with someone you almost love but can’t but you’re still going because it’s close to love and you’d rather be living for something rather than nothing when your life ends. ambiguous relationships and feelings. light humour and fluff Permission to remix: Yes!
*** i have to say i don't fully know where i'm going with this, but i hope somebody enjoys regardless ***
A day before the end of the world, Yoon Jeonghan shows up on the steps of the front door of Kim Mingyu’s house, car keys swinging from his index finger, a slanted dash of a smile on his lips.
“Ready?” he tosses over his shoulder, already turning away, heading towards the black Mercedes in the driveway. He doesn’t have to look back to know Mingyu is following. Gravel crunches underfoot, but otherwise the evening is rosy and soft, quiet save for the occasional trill of birds. A wicker basket swings from Mingyu’s hand, filled with ripe fruit and cheeses, crackers and meat slices. A charcuterie basket, so to speak. Jeonghan swings the driver’s door shut and clicks in his seatbelt, settling a hand on the wheel, throwing Mingyu a sideways smile.
“Let’s go.” And they’re off, backing carefully out of the driveway, speeding toward the coast, chasing the clouds to the sunset. Mingyu rolls down his window and hoots into the wind, and Jeonghan lets himself laugh, loud and ugly, free and unrestrained, choked off only when the wind gets in his throat and he wheezes. Mingyu cackles on his other side; Jeonghan slaps at his thigh blindly. Despite it all he’s careening towards a dangerous level of joy at a rapid pace. Ah, fuck it. It’s the end of the world. He can have this.
Mingyu takes his hand that he left in between them, gripping his fingers too tight, squishing flesh and bone together, like underneath all the joy and carelessness he’s still bearing the weight that comes with finality. That comes with the knowledge of finality. Jabs rise unbidden to the tip of Jeonghan’s tongue, but he bites them back this time and simply squeezes back, laughter dying a little in his throat.
“Hyung,” Mingyu says roughly, eyes trained on the horizon, like he’s anchoring himself. Jeonghan understands him at once.
“Mingyu-yah,” he says back, rolling up their windows, letting silence pool. “Hyung’s here.”
/
There’s nothing quite like going to spend one of your last days living with someone you don’t quite love. It’s heavy and light all at once, like being weightless in the air for a second, like being double-bounced on a trampoline. Except gravity always kicks in, and you land with shaky knees knocking together because you weren’t expecting the fall.
It’s company, though. That’s got to be worth something.
Jeonghan slows the car to a stop as they arrive at Clover Point, a teardrop-shaped piece of land that stretches into the sea. There’s a kite park in the middle, currently empty. Green grass rolls in all directions. Jeonghan leads them right to the tip of the land, as close as they can get to the water without being on the beach. Mingyu rolls out the blanket Jeonghan had stashed in his car a day before, and they both kick their shoes off before sitting, laying out a spread of food from the basket. Jeonghan eats a piece of cracker, a slice of salami, and a green grape all in one bite. Mingyu makes a face at him.
“Ew, hyung,” he judges, reaching for a strawberry, “you’re still sticking with your weird food combinations?” Jeonghan immediately reaches to make another.
“Yah, it’s the end of the world. If you don’t step out of your comfort zone now, when are you going to?” Jeonghan tells him sagely, holding up his cracker-salami-grape combination to hand-feed Mingyu. “Say ahh.”
Mingyu ducks away, grumbling, and Jeonghan chases after him, all the while shoving his self-acclaimed great combination toward Mingyu’s face. Eventually, he abandons the food and simply tackles Mingyu, reaching his cold fingers under Mingyu’s sweater to tickle him, cackling delightedly when Mingyu breaks in peals of laughter, kicking his legs feebly, gently, swatting at Jeonghan without much actual strength. They end up all over each other, Jeonghan piled on top of Mingyu like a melted marshmallow. Mingyu’s arms are around him, and Jeonghan is warm and so close to being in love it hurts. It’s even more painful, how gently Mingyu holds him, like Jeonghan is someone he adores, someone he would cradle to his breastbone and rock to sleep. And Jeonghan knows he shouldn’t be there, relaxed and soft in Mingyu’s arms, like they actually love each other. But it’s the end of the world. He can have this.
He can be selfish for once.
Eventually they untangle, and Jeonghan forces himself back and goes to sit on the blanket again, nibbling on a slice of cheddar cheese. Mingyu makes a prosciutto and parmesan cracker sandwich and tops off his bite with an olive. He makes a satisfied hum and closes his eyes. Evening light haloes him in rose gold and orange. He looks far more content than one should look on the eve of their doomsday. Jeonghan envies him for his ease.
“Oh!” Mingyu jerks upright suddenly, and Jeonghan raises his eyebrows quizzically at him, but Mingyu has taken off before he can ask. He’s back a second later, a bottle of Shiraz choked around the neck by his fingers. In his other hand he pinches the stems of two wine glasses. He sets all items wordlessly in front of Jeonghan and grins, excited and bouncy like a puppy. He deals with the cork in less than a minute with the corkscrew, and then he is pouring a generous amount in each glass, raising his and tilting it for a toast.
Jeonghan knocks his glass against Mingyu’s gently, listens to the clink, and wonders if that’s the sound that will resonate through the universe tomorrow when the world goes blind and the stars fall. Probably not. They’re not significant enough.
“Cheers to a meaningful life lived,” Mingyu toasts, and Jeonghan can’t help his snort. Mingyu shoots him a glare; he pretends to zip up his lips. But silently, he repeats Mingyu’s words. Cheers to a meaningful life lived, hopefully.
He fulfills it by leaning over when Mingyu’s done and kissing the taste of wine off his lips.
/
Later, when dusk bears down on the world and Jeonghan is sleepy and tipsy against Mingyu’s chest, Jeonghan asks the question that’s been trapped in his chest.
“In another world, if we had more time, do you think we could have been in love?”
Beneath him, Mingyu shifts, getting comfortable, wrapping an arm around Jeonghan’s waist.
“Maybe,” he says softly, lightly, like it’s a scenario easy enough to imagine. Jeonghan sighs against his shirt.
“Why, hyung?” When Jeonghan lifts his head Mingyu has a little furrow between his brows. Jeonghan presses his thumb there until it smoothes out.
“I just feel like it would be better to spend my last day with someone I truly loved.” He expects Mingyu to whine, to complain, to jab, to do anything other than say, “let’s pretend then.”
“What?”
“You heard me, let’s pretend.” Mingyu sounds so sure. “Here, I’ll start. Jeonghannie-hyung, I love you.” It’s dipped in saccharine sweetness. Jeonghan makes his dissatisfaction known. Mingyu only nudges him.
“Come on, hyung, say it back.” Jeonghan huffs, rolling his eyes, but gives in.
"I love you too, Mingyu-yah," he says, and feels better.
Mingyu hums, and pulls Jeonghan's head back down on his chest. They watch the stars like that together, and Jeonghan thinks, I could live another twelve hours like this.
Like this: sipping wine, nibbling crackers and cheese, watching the stars, and playing pretend at being in love.
[FILL] in another world, would we have been in love?
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: going for an end of the world picnic with someone you almost love but can’t but you’re still going because it’s close to love and you’d rather be living for something rather than nothing when your life ends. ambiguous relationships and feelings. light humour and fluff
Permission to remix: Yes!
***
i have to say i don't fully know where i'm going with this, but i hope somebody enjoys regardless
***
A day before the end of the world, Yoon Jeonghan shows up on the steps of the front door of Kim Mingyu’s house, car keys swinging from his index finger, a slanted dash of a smile on his lips.
“Ready?” he tosses over his shoulder, already turning away, heading towards the black Mercedes in the driveway. He doesn’t have to look back to know Mingyu is following. Gravel crunches underfoot, but otherwise the evening is rosy and soft, quiet save for the occasional trill of birds. A wicker basket swings from Mingyu’s hand, filled with ripe fruit and cheeses, crackers and meat slices. A charcuterie basket, so to speak. Jeonghan swings the driver’s door shut and clicks in his seatbelt, settling a hand on the wheel, throwing Mingyu a sideways smile.
“Let’s go.” And they’re off, backing carefully out of the driveway, speeding toward the coast, chasing the clouds to the sunset. Mingyu rolls down his window and hoots into the wind, and Jeonghan lets himself laugh, loud and ugly, free and unrestrained, choked off only when the wind gets in his throat and he wheezes. Mingyu cackles on his other side; Jeonghan slaps at his thigh blindly. Despite it all he’s careening towards a dangerous level of joy at a rapid pace. Ah, fuck it. It’s the end of the world. He can have this.
Mingyu takes his hand that he left in between them, gripping his fingers too tight, squishing flesh and bone together, like underneath all the joy and carelessness he’s still bearing the weight that comes with finality. That comes with the knowledge of finality. Jabs rise unbidden to the tip of Jeonghan’s tongue, but he bites them back this time and simply squeezes back, laughter dying a little in his throat.
“Hyung,” Mingyu says roughly, eyes trained on the horizon, like he’s anchoring himself. Jeonghan understands him at once.
“Mingyu-yah,” he says back, rolling up their windows, letting silence pool. “Hyung’s here.”
/
There’s nothing quite like going to spend one of your last days living with someone you don’t quite love. It’s heavy and light all at once, like being weightless in the air for a second, like being double-bounced on a trampoline. Except gravity always kicks in, and you land with shaky knees knocking together because you weren’t expecting the fall.
It’s company, though. That’s got to be worth something.
Jeonghan slows the car to a stop as they arrive at Clover Point, a teardrop-shaped piece of land that stretches into the sea. There’s a kite park in the middle, currently empty. Green grass rolls in all directions. Jeonghan leads them right to the tip of the land, as close as they can get to the water without being on the beach. Mingyu rolls out the blanket Jeonghan had stashed in his car a day before, and they both kick their shoes off before sitting, laying out a spread of food from the basket. Jeonghan eats a piece of cracker, a slice of salami, and a green grape all in one bite. Mingyu makes a face at him.
“Ew, hyung,” he judges, reaching for a strawberry, “you’re still sticking with your weird food combinations?” Jeonghan immediately reaches to make another.
“Yah, it’s the end of the world. If you don’t step out of your comfort zone now, when are you going to?” Jeonghan tells him sagely, holding up his cracker-salami-grape combination to hand-feed Mingyu. “Say ahh.”
Mingyu ducks away, grumbling, and Jeonghan chases after him, all the while shoving his self-acclaimed great combination toward Mingyu’s face. Eventually, he abandons the food and simply tackles Mingyu, reaching his cold fingers under Mingyu’s sweater to tickle him, cackling delightedly when Mingyu breaks in peals of laughter, kicking his legs feebly, gently, swatting at Jeonghan without much actual strength. They end up all over each other, Jeonghan piled on top of Mingyu like a melted marshmallow. Mingyu’s arms are around him, and Jeonghan is warm and so close to being in love it hurts. It’s even more painful, how gently Mingyu holds him, like Jeonghan is someone he adores, someone he would cradle to his breastbone and rock to sleep. And Jeonghan knows he shouldn’t be there, relaxed and soft in Mingyu’s arms, like they actually love each other. But it’s the end of the world. He can have this.
He can be selfish for once.
Eventually they untangle, and Jeonghan forces himself back and goes to sit on the blanket again, nibbling on a slice of cheddar cheese. Mingyu makes a prosciutto and parmesan cracker sandwich and tops off his bite with an olive. He makes a satisfied hum and closes his eyes. Evening light haloes him in rose gold and orange. He looks far more content than one should look on the eve of their doomsday. Jeonghan envies him for his ease.
“Oh!” Mingyu jerks upright suddenly, and Jeonghan raises his eyebrows quizzically at him, but Mingyu has taken off before he can ask. He’s back a second later, a bottle of Shiraz choked around the neck by his fingers. In his other hand he pinches the stems of two wine glasses. He sets all items wordlessly in front of Jeonghan and grins, excited and bouncy like a puppy. He deals with the cork in less than a minute with the corkscrew, and then he is pouring a generous amount in each glass, raising his and tilting it for a toast.
Jeonghan knocks his glass against Mingyu’s gently, listens to the clink, and wonders if that’s the sound that will resonate through the universe tomorrow when the world goes blind and the stars fall. Probably not. They’re not significant enough.
“Cheers to a meaningful life lived,” Mingyu toasts, and Jeonghan can’t help his snort. Mingyu shoots him a glare; he pretends to zip up his lips. But silently, he repeats Mingyu’s words. Cheers to a meaningful life lived, hopefully.
He fulfills it by leaning over when Mingyu’s done and kissing the taste of wine off his lips.
/
Later, when dusk bears down on the world and Jeonghan is sleepy and tipsy against Mingyu’s chest, Jeonghan asks the question that’s been trapped in his chest.
“In another world, if we had more time, do you think we could have been in love?”
Beneath him, Mingyu shifts, getting comfortable, wrapping an arm around Jeonghan’s waist.
“Maybe,” he says softly, lightly, like it’s a scenario easy enough to imagine. Jeonghan sighs against his shirt.
“Why, hyung?” When Jeonghan lifts his head Mingyu has a little furrow between his brows. Jeonghan presses his thumb there until it smoothes out.
“I just feel like it would be better to spend my last day with someone I truly loved.” He expects Mingyu to whine, to complain, to jab, to do anything other than say, “let’s pretend then.”
“What?”
“You heard me, let’s pretend.” Mingyu sounds so sure. “Here, I’ll start. Jeonghannie-hyung, I love you.” It’s dipped in saccharine sweetness. Jeonghan makes his dissatisfaction known. Mingyu only nudges him.
“Come on, hyung, say it back.” Jeonghan huffs, rolling his eyes, but gives in.
"I love you too, Mingyu-yah," he says, and feels better.
Mingyu hums, and pulls Jeonghan's head back down on his chest. They watch the stars like that together, and Jeonghan thinks, I could live another twelve hours like this.
Like this: sipping wine, nibbling crackers and cheese, watching the stars, and playing pretend at being in love.