Ship/Member: gyuhao Major Tags: pining while ur already in love Additional Tags: n/a Permission to remix: sure~
***
Minghao didn't think that he meant it. Mingyu is like that. He is swept up in his tides, at times. What he thinks is right, what he thinks he wants. It changes all the time. It's not that Mingyu isn't reliable—he is. He is trustworthy. He'd never lie. But it's not forever.
Okay. This is why it would never work. Because even a moment is enough for Mingyu to fall in love, real love. It's real and it's huge, for as long as it lasts. But if it's not going to last, then Minghao won't start. It's not that one of them is right. It's just that it doesn't work.
Mingyu is sitting beside him, in a first class on a flight to Paris. Minghao has a glass of red wine. He catches a glimpse of Mingyu dozing against the window, his profile sharp and handsome. This is the most self-destructive that he's been in a long while. It doesn't seem real—which makes it easy to make it worse. If he slips his hand underneath Mingyu's where it is placed on his knee. If he sketches the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips, silhouetted against the waning sun though the plane windows. So?
Mingyu wakes up. He jerks awake. It's kind of funny. It seems like the way you come awake when you're late for school, violent and tragic. He jerks his head to the side, placing himself. Minghao can see when he orients himself: the way his shoulders relax and he grabs for Minghao's hand again. He curls his body towards Minghao, separated by the too-plush seats of their too-expensive tickets. Mingyu's boldness comes from the opposite place of his own. It's not because it doesn't matter, but because in this moment it is everything.
"Would you rather be alone?" Mingyu asks. He is shameless like that. Does he realize the way the question only has one path of return? Or is he not the same kind of delicate as Minghao, who cannot ask the question because he is afraid of the answer.
But, the thing is. Really. Honestly.
"No," Minghao says. He brushes his thumb along the back of Mingyu's hand. "I want to be here with you."
If the ends are the same—how dire really, is the difference.
[FILL] roman holiday
Major Tags: pining while ur already in love
Additional Tags: n/a
Permission to remix: sure~
***
Minghao didn't think that he meant it. Mingyu is like that. He is swept up in his tides, at times. What he thinks is right, what he thinks he wants. It changes all the time. It's not that Mingyu isn't reliable—he is. He is trustworthy. He'd never lie. But it's not forever.
Okay. This is why it would never work. Because even a moment is enough for Mingyu to fall in love, real love. It's real and it's huge, for as long as it lasts. But if it's not going to last, then Minghao won't start. It's not that one of them is right. It's just that it doesn't work.
Mingyu is sitting beside him, in a first class on a flight to Paris. Minghao has a glass of red wine. He catches a glimpse of Mingyu dozing against the window, his profile sharp and handsome. This is the most self-destructive that he's been in a long while. It doesn't seem real—which makes it easy to make it worse. If he slips his hand underneath Mingyu's where it is placed on his knee. If he sketches the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips, silhouetted against the waning sun though the plane windows. So?
Mingyu wakes up. He jerks awake. It's kind of funny. It seems like the way you come awake when you're late for school, violent and tragic. He jerks his head to the side, placing himself. Minghao can see when he orients himself: the way his shoulders relax and he grabs for Minghao's hand again. He curls his body towards Minghao, separated by the too-plush seats of their too-expensive tickets. Mingyu's boldness comes from the opposite place of his own. It's not because it doesn't matter, but because in this moment it is everything.
"Would you rather be alone?" Mingyu asks. He is shameless like that. Does he realize the way the question only has one path of return? Or is he not the same kind of delicate as Minghao, who cannot ask the question because he is afraid of the answer.
But, the thing is. Really. Honestly.
"No," Minghao says. He brushes his thumb along the back of Mingyu's hand. "I want to be here with you."
If the ends are the same—how dire really, is the difference.