[Round 3- Self prompt] Dinner At Eight
Feb. 10th, 2017 10:27 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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seokmonstersfestPairing: Xiumin/Luhan
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,010
Warnings: Not a happy ending :)
Summary: Based on Rufus Wainwright's song "Dinner At Eight”:
"No matter how strong
I'm gonna take you down with one little stone
I'm gonna break you down and see what you're worth
What you're really worth to me"
Author's Notes: Dear Mods and Readers of Seokmonsters Round 3 - Mods, thank you for answering my questions and allowing me to self-prompt for this round even though there were plenty of awesome prompts to choose from. This fic just had to be written and I wanted so badly to submit it for this round specifically. Thank you readers and friends who are taking time to give this little break-up fic a go :) I kept the song on which this fic was based on loop as I wrote this, so in case you're curious about it, you can listen to it here Hope you enjoy the fic!
Minseok checked his watch for the twelfth time in the last hour and asked himself what would happen if he just up and left without a word. His pink ombre-haired server Irene would most certainly notice it if he had So far, she’d been very attentive, walking over to Minseok’s table to refill his glass of water when it was empty. Minseok made sure to pace himself after she refilled his glass for the third time.
It was still early, not yet eight o’clock,. Minseok still had time to do the standing up before he was officially stood up himself. He still had time to get the jump on Luhan by fifteen, no, fourteen minutes.
Minseok willed himself to calm down. What would his armchair-shrink friend Baekhyun say? What would Baekhyun do in this situation? Minseok allowed himself a small, rueful laugh under his breath. He should put that on a baller bracelet – WWBBD? What would Byun Baekhyun do while sitting in a fancy restaurant waiting for his soon-to-be-official-ex-boyfriend show up for dinner?
Minseok gulped and fidgeted with his tie.
This was a terrible idea.
Then again, Minseok shouldn’t have felt bad entertaining the thought. After all, aborting the mission at the last minute was something Luhan was very much familiar with. Minseok had six years of experience in the matter.
“Sorry babe, but something’s come up-“
“…at the last minute and you can’t get out of it,” Minseok was unable to fight off sounding defeated when he finished Luhan’s sentence for him over Facetime eight months ago.
“Something’s come up” quickly became one of Luhan’s most often-used sentences, right up there with “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you” and “I love you, don’t be mad.” Minseok was sick of hearing those words with increasing frequency these last three years. He heard “I want you” and “I miss you and can’t wait to see you” less. Even “hi” had become scarce.
Minseok was looking forward to Luhan coming home to Seoul after eight months in Shanghai, where Luhan was off promoting his solo mini-album, which for Minseok meant eight months of intermittent Facetiming that left neither one satisfied. The video calls almost always ended with either one feigning sleepiness just to get out of the conversation.
Maybe they should just break up.
“Maybe you should fight for him,” was Baekhyun’s advice a month ago. “You still love each other, right?”
~
They met six years ago when Minseok was a production assistant at one of the biggest television networks in Seoul. It happened backstage on one of the network’s weekly music chart shows. Both Minseok and Luhan had been barely out of their teens.
Luhan was experiencing wardrobe malfunction. Minseok was the one to help him staple up his stage costume minutes before the performance. Minseok wasn’t looking to be in a romantic relationship and had thought of himself as incapable of being anything but ice cold, but the universe had thrown in his path this lovely doe-eyed boy that was coming apart at the seams quite literally.
“Hey, thanks man,” Luhan said, as he accepted the staple gun Minseok had whipped up in the seconds it took for Luhan’s pant-leg to rip from ankle to crotch. “I’m debuting today, and it would really suck if I wrecked the performance because someone in Wardrobe effed up.” He’d smiled at Minseok. God, this boy was so pretty. Minseok could feel the ice chips around his heart melting in the sloppiest way. The realization was embarrassing.
“Break a leg out there then,” Minseok said. Boy groups were not his style. He liked to think he had more taste than that. He’d thought himself immune to them since he was around so many on a daily basis because of work, but Luhan had caught his attention.
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you!” Luhan said, stretching to his full height after he’d finished. He handed Minseok back the staple gun, and before Minseok could react, Luhan had pulled him in for a quick, grateful kiss on the cheek.
“Um, sure,” Minseok said, not quite sure why the hell he just got kissed by a stranger. The spot on his cheek where Luhan’s lips made contact with his skin felt hot. Minseok was afraid he’d started to blush, a concept so foreign to him, it only managed to fluster him further.
“Oh my gosh,” Luhan said, his grin getting wider, confirming Minseok’s fear. “You’re so red right now.” and then, under his breath, “You’re too cute.”
“I…um,” Minseok said, backing away and stepping on a talent coordinator rushing to remind Luhan he was needed on stage this instant. “I have to go.”
“Luhan,” he introduced himself, extending his hand to shake. “Maybe I’ll see you later…?”
“Minseok,” Minseok said, managing not to stumble over his name. “Look for me after.”
Luhan’s eyes sparkled at him just before he ran to the stage to take his place as a back-up dancer.
“You lied about debuting,” Minseok accused Luhan much later, after they’d gotten the sexual tension cleared away by a marathon makeout session back at Minseok’s studio apartment. Yeah things were moving pretty fast.
Once again, this was not Minseok’s style, but Luhan did go the extra mile to look for Minseok after the show. He’d even snuck out of his dorm to meet Minseok for dinner at eight that same night, risking his ten o’clock curfew. Nothing fancy, because Luhan was on a budget. They’d gone out for tteokbokki.
Their kisses that night had been flavored with hot sauce, but Minseok was sure the intense kissing had as much to do with his lips getting swollen than the spicy sauce.
“Did I?” Luhan said, feigning innocence as he stared at Minseok’s lower lip. “No, but today was the first time I ever performed on live television.”
Minseok laughed. “You’re a back-up dancer,” he said, gently.
“I won’t be for long,” Luhan promised, teasing Minseok’s lips with his own. “Does it bother you that I only dance back-up?”
Minseok pretended to think. “Yes,” he teased. “I only date guys who are famous.” Where that had come from, he didn’t know. He wasn’t usually this flirtatious.
“Star-fucker,” Luhan said, kissing his way down Minseok’s jaw to his throat.
“Hey, we haven’t fucked yet,” Minseok yelped as Luhan reached his ticklish spot.
Luhan lifted his head up. “Do you want to?”
“I’m not that kind of boy, but you’re just so pretty.”
“Don’t call me pretty,” Luhan said, eager to prove to Minseok just why he thought himself too manly to be called that.
They flirted backstage for the three weeks that the boy group Luhan was a back-up dancer for promoted their song, and were a couple by the time the group did their goodbye stage with six wins under their belts, not too shabby for a debuting boy group from a smaller entertainment company.
As their eight o’clock dinners went from sidewalk stalls to fast-food joints to mid-price chain restaurants to places that didn’t accept walk-in customers, Luhan’s career steadily progressed, and their relationship roller-coastered in the way Minseok thought a relationship with a celebrity normally did.
Minseok admired Luhan’s ambition. Luhan quickly went from back-up dancer to main dancer to solo artist in the span of four years. Of course, Luhan had to shuttle back and forth to China to do it, but what the hell, Minseok knew it was what Luhan wanted, had always wanted, so he never said a word against his boyfriend’s crazy schedule. Minseok loved Luhan too much to get in the way of his dream. He’d always been a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.
“You’ll never leave me, right?” Luhan had whispered in bed on the night Luhan’s debut track – his real one this time, finally got released three years after they started going out. They celebrated with wine coolers and worked their way up to vodka. By midnight, when the song’s music video went live online, both Minseok and Luhan were already smashing drunk. They watched the song climb the charts hours within its release. Minseok thought the song was just okay-ish, but his joy for Luhan overshadowed whatever insignificant opinion he may have had of the song. “You’ll never leave me even when I’m not famous anymore?”
“You’re not famous yet,” Minseok joked. Even in the dark he could see Luhan pouting at him from his pillow and when was he able to resist that? “Of course I’ll never leave,” he said, pressing a reassuring kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “What about me, though? You’ll never leave me even when you know I’ll never be famous?”
Minseok waited for Luhan to reply, but he had already fallen asleep.
When the money started coming in for Luhan, he’d helped with some of Minseok’s financial issues, the most significant one being footing Minseok’s mom’s hospital bills when she fell ill. Minseok didn’t want to accept his help at first, but Luhan had been adamant about letting him take care of it.
Luhan wasn’t always “there” for Minseok for the little mundane things, Luhan was good when it came to bold, grand, life-saving gestures.
The first three years had been filled with ups and downs, just like any other normal couple. In those three years, Minseok found himself with some idea of what being in a long-term relationship meant. It wasn’t always fun, but it was always good.
Now he wasn’t sure if they were in it too long to keep working at it, or too short to just give up. He didn’t want to think of himself as a selfish partner, but the truth was, Luhan’s schedule always came before his. His whole world revolved around his partner, and he didn’t know what life was like outside that anymore. The six months apart should have given Minseok a breath of fresh air, but instead he missed Luhan everyday.
The thing was, having Luhan home with him didn’t make Minseok miss Luhan any less.
They agreed to a relationship hiatus over Facetime, three months after Luhan’s due date back to Seoul.
“Hey,” Luhan said, his face thinner, his eyebags a little more pronounced under the poor lighting of whatever room he was in. He was still beautiful though, and something close to guilt pinched Minseok’s heart seeing his boyfriend looking so obviously sleep-deprived.
“Hi, baby,” Minseok said, touching the screen. “How are you?”
“I’m tired,” Luhan said, except the second word came out in a yawn Luhan wasn’t able to fight off.
“Maybe we should do this some other time,” Minseok gulped. He’d said that the last two times they rescheduled, but Luhan really looked like he needed to sleep more than anything else.
“No, Baozi, I’m-” another yawn. “I’ll be all right.” he gave Minseok a thin smile. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” Minseok said.
“Ugh, I want to come home, Baozi, but I still really can’t,” Luhan said. “My agency has been working on more appearances while I’m here, and it’s just non-stop. My manager says we should strike while the iron’s hot, you know?”
Minseok hated that the good news for Luhan’s career was being delivered like an apology, more excuses why Luhan couldn’t make it home. Why did it have to be this way? Minseok should be sharing Luhan’s joy at his success overseas. “Do,” Minseok’s voice caught something in his throat. “Do you need me to send you over more clothes?”
“No, Lao Gao’s probably going to work things out on his end for that stuff,” Luhan said, his eyes still apologizing. He sighed. “Thanks, though.”
“Yeah, of course,” Minseok said, forcing nonchalance in his tone. “Whatever you need.”
Nobody said anything for a while until they both started at the exact same moment.
“Listen, Minseok-”
“So, um, Luhan-”
“I’m sorry,” Luhan said. “Go ahead.”
“No, please,” Minseok said. “You were saying?”
Luhan took a deep breath. “I was thinking, Baozi...” he started. He struggled to form what he was about to say next. “I’m...it’s...” he stopped. “This isn’t-”
“It’s not working,” Minseok said, finishing Luhan’s sentence for him. What was that he felt just now? Was it relief lifting the weight from off his shoulders that they were finally talking about it? If so, why was the weight sinking fast into the bottom of his stomach?
“It’s...not,” Luhan said, a sadness coming to his eyes. He looked different without the clear-eyed sparkle of them. Like someone had scooped out everything that was good from him and left him in the shape of this husk, this hologram of a boyfriend. “Baozi...”
“I know, baby,” Minseok said, not trusting his voice to go above a whisper. He would break down if he spoke. “I know.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” Luhan said. “And with the way things are going right now, I can’t promise I’ll be home soon.”
Just say it. If we’re breaking up, just break if off right now. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Minseok’s fists were balled tight in his lap as he waited for the inevitable.
Minseok waited for words that didn’t come. Right. It was up to him to tear this off like a band-aid. “Are we breaking up, then?”
Luhan looked like Minseok had slapped him. “Minseok,” he said, like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.
“Baby, I know you’re tired,” Minseok said. “I am, too. You’re right - it hasn’t been working out, and it’s only going to get much worse for us the longer you stay there.”
“Minseok, you know what you were getting into with me,” Luhan said, an edge that hadn’t been in his voice before emerging, ready to go on the defensive.
Minseok cut him off. “Let me finish,” he said. “I’m not blaming you or your career. Really, I don’t. I want to be happy you’re doing so well and the thought that our relationship is slowing you down...that I’m slowing you down-” his voice broke. His cheeks, he found were wet. When had the tears come? “I can’t have you resenting me for us, Lu.”
“I don’t want to break up,” Luhan said. “I love you.”
Then love me. Be with me. Choose me. Ask me to move there with you and I’ll do it. Just choose me and mean it.
“Maybe we should take a step back first,” Minseok said, not daring to look at his laptop monitor. “To sort out ourselves. See how we feel if you-” he took a shaky breath. “when you come home.” He counted to five before lifting his face up to the monitor.
“We’ll decide then?” Luhan said, his voice small, smaller than Minseok remembered it.
Minseok closed his eyes. “When you come home, we’ll decide.”
Luhan gave it a moment to sink in. “Okay,” he said.
“Okay.”
~
Luhan came home at the tail-end of winter, ten months after he said he would. He didn’t call Minseok to inform him of his flight details, nor did he get in touch when he finally landed in Seoul. Luhan waited for one week to get in touch with Minseok, and by then, Minseok already knew he was in town. He’d run into the manager for the boy group, EXO at the network.
Areum wiggled her eyebrows at Minseok before hugging him hello. “And I see having the boyfriend back at home is bringing back the glow to your cheeks!”
What?
“Long time, no see, Areum noonim,” Minseok said, hoping the confusion in his face didn’t register before he was able to catch himself. “Oh you know how it is...”
“Luhan is looking well! He stopped by the office yesterday, did he tell you?”
“Hm? Yes, he did mention,” Minseok said, his brain trying to keep up with the words that were coming out of the entertainment manager’s mouth and balancing it with his own reactions so he wouldn’t give himself away. “Listen, I’d love to chat, but you know how PD-nim gets when the spiels scripts are delivered late.”
“Ok, Minseok. Talk soon!” Areum blew him a kiss before hurrying over to find out what the group’s maknae has been whining about again.
Minseok spun quickly on his heel and made his way to the opposite end of the corridor, toward the fire escape. He leaned his body against the wall and tried to remember to breathe.
Luhan is here? He’s home? When? Why didn’t he call? Why -
Then he remembered.
We’re on hiatus. Of course.
He had so many questions. Where was Luhan staying? All his clothes were at home. Was he staying in a hotel since he landed? At a friend’s? Which one? Why hasn’t news of Luahn’s arrival been on the news, in the papers, on Naver? Did Luhan not want it announced?
Minseok felt dizzy. His world had been knocked off balance. How were things about to change now that Luhan was back? Hand shaking, he reached for his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, ready to dial Luhan’s number.
Wait. Does he even want to hear from me?
It was a terrible, sobering thought that froze his hand just before his thumb hit Call. The genie was out of the bottle. The awfulness of the possibility that the reason Luhan hadn’t called when he returned was not because of some agreement they’d made months ago. It was simply because Luhan hadn’t wanted to see Minseok.
Fuck this. Fuck Luhan. Minseok didn’t have time to stress himself out over whether Luhan called or not. If he’d wanted to, he would have. Squaring his shoulders, Minseok turned his mobile phone off.
His notifications went crazy when he opened his phone after work.
Ludear91: ;))
11.07AM
Ludear91: Baby?
11.10AM
Ludear91: Tried calling. Your phone is off?
12.03PM
Ludear91: I’m in town, Minseok.
12.33PM
Ludear91: Thought we could talk?
12.34PM
Ludear91: Dinner at eight?
5.15PM
~
This was the worst idea.
Minseok checked his watch. It was ten past eight now. So he’d officially been stood up. Par for the course, really. He checked his phone, expecting Luhan’s apology to materialize on the screen in the form a text message, his “I’m sorry, something came up” to pop up in his notifications.
Minseok wasn’t upset. Perhaps they need not have waited for Luhan’s return to decide the fate of their relationship. Maybe it already had been decided the moment they ended their last conversation when both had been too scared and too stubborn to admit which one of them wanted to let go first.
Minseok collected his jacket from the back of a chair and got ready to leave. He’d be sure to leave Irene a handsome tip for her service tonight.
“Baozi.”
For the last few weeks, Minseok had started to come to grips with his life without Luhan, this strange in-between place where they weren’t together but not quite broken up. It wasn’t his ideal turnout, but Minseok had settled into it. Yes, he believed he was ready for closure, he just didn’t think it would actually come. He’d come tonight ready to put his fists up, but the universe had thrown into his path his lovely doe-eyed man that was coming apart at the seams.
Minseok wished he could still fix this, but he didn’t have the tools to put them back together. He remained rooted to his spot even though he wanted to throw his arms around the man standing in front of him.
Luhan tilted his head slightly down, indicating they should sit. Minseok followed his lead and replaced his jacket to the back of a chair.
“I’m so happy you showed up,” Luhan said, splaying his hands on the table. He made a slight gesture to reach out for Minseok’s hands across the table, but stopped himself when he saw Minseok start. This made him lower his head and close his eyes for a second. Then he took a deep breath. “Can we try again? Please?”
They sat facing each other for the first time in ten months. It was taking everything in Minseok to stop himself from crossing the expanse of the table to meet Luhan’s lips in a kiss, to erase everything that they’ve been through in the last year by taking Luhan in his arms and starting over.
We can do that still, can’t we?
But then what comes after the tearful reconciliation? Minseok could see clearly how the evening would play out as though their life together was a special stage for a weekly show pre-recording.
They’ll embrace, Luhan’s tears will wet Minseok’s cheeks. Minseok will take Luhan’s hand in his. They’ll hail a cab, make out like it’s their first date, almost missing their stop. Minseok will struggle with his house keys as Luhan kisses his neck from behind. They’ll make it back to their bedroom, but just barely. They’ll make love - the sweetest it’s ever been since their first night. They’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms after another round, not as sweet as the first time, but harder. Angrier. They’ll claw at each other the way they’ve wanted to all these months they’ve been apart, maybe even draw blood. In the morning they’ll smile at each other across their bed and whisper their “Good mornings” until they manage to drag themselves out of bed for coffee. They’ll make plans for their evening. Luhan will have a car pick Minseok up at work. Luhan’s manager will call, and Minseok will retreat to the shower to get ready for the day. Through the spray of water, Luhan will apologize but he’ll have to take a raincheck for their date tonight because something has come up.
The cycle will start anew, at best.
Luhan’s eyes are deep pools of hope and regret. “I want to do better, Baozi. Will you still have me?” He shook his head, as though to clear it, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small dove grey box. Holding it as tenderly in his hands as he could, he opened it for Minseok. “For you.”
Minseok hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he felt the pain in his chest. He drew breath sharply. Inside the box was a simple gold band with six small diamonds in its setting. Six stones for every one of their six years together.
Minseok closed his eyes. The iceberg in his heart began to shift, start to crack. His cheeks were wet again.
Luhan made a small noise of joy from the back of his throat at Minseok’s reaction. “Marry me.”
Minseok couldn’t speak.
“Marry me, Minseok,” Luhan said. “Please say you’ll have me. I’ll give you the grandest wedding in the fall. When I come back from Berlin in the summer we can plan it and-”
Minseok reached out and took Luhan’s hands in his, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks now. He held the tiny open box in his hands and wished with every bone in his body that he could accept Luhan’s offer, but now he knew, now that he saw what he was worth to Luhan, he could see what Luhan was worth to him.
“Please Minseok,” Luhan said, smiling through his tears. “Say something.”
Minseok closed the lid of the tiny gray box and carefully set it back into Luhan’s hands, gently folding Luhan’s fingers over it, having him hold the box that held their almost-future.
“I have to go,” Minseok whispered. Luhan bowed his head over his ring, crushed. Somehow he had not expected this. Minseok was supposed to say yes.
Minseok’s heart was cold, had always been before he met Luhan, but at least Minseok was not cruel.
Minseok did not dare brush his lips over Luhan’s brow before making his exit, nor did he turn his head for one last look at the his love. Minseok strode through the rush of the restaurant’s evening service, past tables at which other lovers sat with their own compact, intimate, fragile dioramas of negotiation, celebration, anticipation, and maybe even heartbreak over dinner at eight.
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,010
Warnings: Not a happy ending :)
Summary: Based on Rufus Wainwright's song "Dinner At Eight”:
"No matter how strong
I'm gonna take you down with one little stone
I'm gonna break you down and see what you're worth
What you're really worth to me"
Author's Notes: Dear Mods and Readers of Seokmonsters Round 3 - Mods, thank you for answering my questions and allowing me to self-prompt for this round even though there were plenty of awesome prompts to choose from. This fic just had to be written and I wanted so badly to submit it for this round specifically. Thank you readers and friends who are taking time to give this little break-up fic a go :) I kept the song on which this fic was based on loop as I wrote this, so in case you're curious about it, you can listen to it here Hope you enjoy the fic!
Minseok checked his watch for the twelfth time in the last hour and asked himself what would happen if he just up and left without a word. His pink ombre-haired server Irene would most certainly notice it if he had So far, she’d been very attentive, walking over to Minseok’s table to refill his glass of water when it was empty. Minseok made sure to pace himself after she refilled his glass for the third time.
It was still early, not yet eight o’clock,. Minseok still had time to do the standing up before he was officially stood up himself. He still had time to get the jump on Luhan by fifteen, no, fourteen minutes.
Minseok willed himself to calm down. What would his armchair-shrink friend Baekhyun say? What would Baekhyun do in this situation? Minseok allowed himself a small, rueful laugh under his breath. He should put that on a baller bracelet – WWBBD? What would Byun Baekhyun do while sitting in a fancy restaurant waiting for his soon-to-be-official-ex-boyfriend show up for dinner?
Minseok gulped and fidgeted with his tie.
This was a terrible idea.
Then again, Minseok shouldn’t have felt bad entertaining the thought. After all, aborting the mission at the last minute was something Luhan was very much familiar with. Minseok had six years of experience in the matter.
“Sorry babe, but something’s come up-“
“…at the last minute and you can’t get out of it,” Minseok was unable to fight off sounding defeated when he finished Luhan’s sentence for him over Facetime eight months ago.
“Something’s come up” quickly became one of Luhan’s most often-used sentences, right up there with “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you” and “I love you, don’t be mad.” Minseok was sick of hearing those words with increasing frequency these last three years. He heard “I want you” and “I miss you and can’t wait to see you” less. Even “hi” had become scarce.
Minseok was looking forward to Luhan coming home to Seoul after eight months in Shanghai, where Luhan was off promoting his solo mini-album, which for Minseok meant eight months of intermittent Facetiming that left neither one satisfied. The video calls almost always ended with either one feigning sleepiness just to get out of the conversation.
Maybe they should just break up.
“Maybe you should fight for him,” was Baekhyun’s advice a month ago. “You still love each other, right?”
~
They met six years ago when Minseok was a production assistant at one of the biggest television networks in Seoul. It happened backstage on one of the network’s weekly music chart shows. Both Minseok and Luhan had been barely out of their teens.
Luhan was experiencing wardrobe malfunction. Minseok was the one to help him staple up his stage costume minutes before the performance. Minseok wasn’t looking to be in a romantic relationship and had thought of himself as incapable of being anything but ice cold, but the universe had thrown in his path this lovely doe-eyed boy that was coming apart at the seams quite literally.
“Hey, thanks man,” Luhan said, as he accepted the staple gun Minseok had whipped up in the seconds it took for Luhan’s pant-leg to rip from ankle to crotch. “I’m debuting today, and it would really suck if I wrecked the performance because someone in Wardrobe effed up.” He’d smiled at Minseok. God, this boy was so pretty. Minseok could feel the ice chips around his heart melting in the sloppiest way. The realization was embarrassing.
“Break a leg out there then,” Minseok said. Boy groups were not his style. He liked to think he had more taste than that. He’d thought himself immune to them since he was around so many on a daily basis because of work, but Luhan had caught his attention.
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you!” Luhan said, stretching to his full height after he’d finished. He handed Minseok back the staple gun, and before Minseok could react, Luhan had pulled him in for a quick, grateful kiss on the cheek.
“Um, sure,” Minseok said, not quite sure why the hell he just got kissed by a stranger. The spot on his cheek where Luhan’s lips made contact with his skin felt hot. Minseok was afraid he’d started to blush, a concept so foreign to him, it only managed to fluster him further.
“Oh my gosh,” Luhan said, his grin getting wider, confirming Minseok’s fear. “You’re so red right now.” and then, under his breath, “You’re too cute.”
“I…um,” Minseok said, backing away and stepping on a talent coordinator rushing to remind Luhan he was needed on stage this instant. “I have to go.”
“Luhan,” he introduced himself, extending his hand to shake. “Maybe I’ll see you later…?”
“Minseok,” Minseok said, managing not to stumble over his name. “Look for me after.”
Luhan’s eyes sparkled at him just before he ran to the stage to take his place as a back-up dancer.
“You lied about debuting,” Minseok accused Luhan much later, after they’d gotten the sexual tension cleared away by a marathon makeout session back at Minseok’s studio apartment. Yeah things were moving pretty fast.
Once again, this was not Minseok’s style, but Luhan did go the extra mile to look for Minseok after the show. He’d even snuck out of his dorm to meet Minseok for dinner at eight that same night, risking his ten o’clock curfew. Nothing fancy, because Luhan was on a budget. They’d gone out for tteokbokki.
Their kisses that night had been flavored with hot sauce, but Minseok was sure the intense kissing had as much to do with his lips getting swollen than the spicy sauce.
“Did I?” Luhan said, feigning innocence as he stared at Minseok’s lower lip. “No, but today was the first time I ever performed on live television.”
Minseok laughed. “You’re a back-up dancer,” he said, gently.
“I won’t be for long,” Luhan promised, teasing Minseok’s lips with his own. “Does it bother you that I only dance back-up?”
Minseok pretended to think. “Yes,” he teased. “I only date guys who are famous.” Where that had come from, he didn’t know. He wasn’t usually this flirtatious.
“Star-fucker,” Luhan said, kissing his way down Minseok’s jaw to his throat.
“Hey, we haven’t fucked yet,” Minseok yelped as Luhan reached his ticklish spot.
Luhan lifted his head up. “Do you want to?”
“I’m not that kind of boy, but you’re just so pretty.”
“Don’t call me pretty,” Luhan said, eager to prove to Minseok just why he thought himself too manly to be called that.
They flirted backstage for the three weeks that the boy group Luhan was a back-up dancer for promoted their song, and were a couple by the time the group did their goodbye stage with six wins under their belts, not too shabby for a debuting boy group from a smaller entertainment company.
As their eight o’clock dinners went from sidewalk stalls to fast-food joints to mid-price chain restaurants to places that didn’t accept walk-in customers, Luhan’s career steadily progressed, and their relationship roller-coastered in the way Minseok thought a relationship with a celebrity normally did.
Minseok admired Luhan’s ambition. Luhan quickly went from back-up dancer to main dancer to solo artist in the span of four years. Of course, Luhan had to shuttle back and forth to China to do it, but what the hell, Minseok knew it was what Luhan wanted, had always wanted, so he never said a word against his boyfriend’s crazy schedule. Minseok loved Luhan too much to get in the way of his dream. He’d always been a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.
“You’ll never leave me, right?” Luhan had whispered in bed on the night Luhan’s debut track – his real one this time, finally got released three years after they started going out. They celebrated with wine coolers and worked their way up to vodka. By midnight, when the song’s music video went live online, both Minseok and Luhan were already smashing drunk. They watched the song climb the charts hours within its release. Minseok thought the song was just okay-ish, but his joy for Luhan overshadowed whatever insignificant opinion he may have had of the song. “You’ll never leave me even when I’m not famous anymore?”
“You’re not famous yet,” Minseok joked. Even in the dark he could see Luhan pouting at him from his pillow and when was he able to resist that? “Of course I’ll never leave,” he said, pressing a reassuring kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “What about me, though? You’ll never leave me even when you know I’ll never be famous?”
Minseok waited for Luhan to reply, but he had already fallen asleep.
When the money started coming in for Luhan, he’d helped with some of Minseok’s financial issues, the most significant one being footing Minseok’s mom’s hospital bills when she fell ill. Minseok didn’t want to accept his help at first, but Luhan had been adamant about letting him take care of it.
Luhan wasn’t always “there” for Minseok for the little mundane things, Luhan was good when it came to bold, grand, life-saving gestures.
The first three years had been filled with ups and downs, just like any other normal couple. In those three years, Minseok found himself with some idea of what being in a long-term relationship meant. It wasn’t always fun, but it was always good.
Now he wasn’t sure if they were in it too long to keep working at it, or too short to just give up. He didn’t want to think of himself as a selfish partner, but the truth was, Luhan’s schedule always came before his. His whole world revolved around his partner, and he didn’t know what life was like outside that anymore. The six months apart should have given Minseok a breath of fresh air, but instead he missed Luhan everyday.
The thing was, having Luhan home with him didn’t make Minseok miss Luhan any less.
They agreed to a relationship hiatus over Facetime, three months after Luhan’s due date back to Seoul.
“Hey,” Luhan said, his face thinner, his eyebags a little more pronounced under the poor lighting of whatever room he was in. He was still beautiful though, and something close to guilt pinched Minseok’s heart seeing his boyfriend looking so obviously sleep-deprived.
“Hi, baby,” Minseok said, touching the screen. “How are you?”
“I’m tired,” Luhan said, except the second word came out in a yawn Luhan wasn’t able to fight off.
“Maybe we should do this some other time,” Minseok gulped. He’d said that the last two times they rescheduled, but Luhan really looked like he needed to sleep more than anything else.
“No, Baozi, I’m-” another yawn. “I’ll be all right.” he gave Minseok a thin smile. “I missed you.”
“I missed you,” Minseok said.
“Ugh, I want to come home, Baozi, but I still really can’t,” Luhan said. “My agency has been working on more appearances while I’m here, and it’s just non-stop. My manager says we should strike while the iron’s hot, you know?”
Minseok hated that the good news for Luhan’s career was being delivered like an apology, more excuses why Luhan couldn’t make it home. Why did it have to be this way? Minseok should be sharing Luhan’s joy at his success overseas. “Do,” Minseok’s voice caught something in his throat. “Do you need me to send you over more clothes?”
“No, Lao Gao’s probably going to work things out on his end for that stuff,” Luhan said, his eyes still apologizing. He sighed. “Thanks, though.”
“Yeah, of course,” Minseok said, forcing nonchalance in his tone. “Whatever you need.”
Nobody said anything for a while until they both started at the exact same moment.
“Listen, Minseok-”
“So, um, Luhan-”
“I’m sorry,” Luhan said. “Go ahead.”
“No, please,” Minseok said. “You were saying?”
Luhan took a deep breath. “I was thinking, Baozi...” he started. He struggled to form what he was about to say next. “I’m...it’s...” he stopped. “This isn’t-”
“It’s not working,” Minseok said, finishing Luhan’s sentence for him. What was that he felt just now? Was it relief lifting the weight from off his shoulders that they were finally talking about it? If so, why was the weight sinking fast into the bottom of his stomach?
“It’s...not,” Luhan said, a sadness coming to his eyes. He looked different without the clear-eyed sparkle of them. Like someone had scooped out everything that was good from him and left him in the shape of this husk, this hologram of a boyfriend. “Baozi...”
“I know, baby,” Minseok said, not trusting his voice to go above a whisper. He would break down if he spoke. “I know.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” Luhan said. “And with the way things are going right now, I can’t promise I’ll be home soon.”
Just say it. If we’re breaking up, just break if off right now. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Minseok’s fists were balled tight in his lap as he waited for the inevitable.
Minseok waited for words that didn’t come. Right. It was up to him to tear this off like a band-aid. “Are we breaking up, then?”
Luhan looked like Minseok had slapped him. “Minseok,” he said, like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.
“Baby, I know you’re tired,” Minseok said. “I am, too. You’re right - it hasn’t been working out, and it’s only going to get much worse for us the longer you stay there.”
“Minseok, you know what you were getting into with me,” Luhan said, an edge that hadn’t been in his voice before emerging, ready to go on the defensive.
Minseok cut him off. “Let me finish,” he said. “I’m not blaming you or your career. Really, I don’t. I want to be happy you’re doing so well and the thought that our relationship is slowing you down...that I’m slowing you down-” his voice broke. His cheeks, he found were wet. When had the tears come? “I can’t have you resenting me for us, Lu.”
“I don’t want to break up,” Luhan said. “I love you.”
Then love me. Be with me. Choose me. Ask me to move there with you and I’ll do it. Just choose me and mean it.
“Maybe we should take a step back first,” Minseok said, not daring to look at his laptop monitor. “To sort out ourselves. See how we feel if you-” he took a shaky breath. “when you come home.” He counted to five before lifting his face up to the monitor.
“We’ll decide then?” Luhan said, his voice small, smaller than Minseok remembered it.
Minseok closed his eyes. “When you come home, we’ll decide.”
Luhan gave it a moment to sink in. “Okay,” he said.
“Okay.”
~
Luhan came home at the tail-end of winter, ten months after he said he would. He didn’t call Minseok to inform him of his flight details, nor did he get in touch when he finally landed in Seoul. Luhan waited for one week to get in touch with Minseok, and by then, Minseok already knew he was in town. He’d run into the manager for the boy group, EXO at the network.
Areum wiggled her eyebrows at Minseok before hugging him hello. “And I see having the boyfriend back at home is bringing back the glow to your cheeks!”
What?
“Long time, no see, Areum noonim,” Minseok said, hoping the confusion in his face didn’t register before he was able to catch himself. “Oh you know how it is...”
“Luhan is looking well! He stopped by the office yesterday, did he tell you?”
“Hm? Yes, he did mention,” Minseok said, his brain trying to keep up with the words that were coming out of the entertainment manager’s mouth and balancing it with his own reactions so he wouldn’t give himself away. “Listen, I’d love to chat, but you know how PD-nim gets when the spiels scripts are delivered late.”
“Ok, Minseok. Talk soon!” Areum blew him a kiss before hurrying over to find out what the group’s maknae has been whining about again.
Minseok spun quickly on his heel and made his way to the opposite end of the corridor, toward the fire escape. He leaned his body against the wall and tried to remember to breathe.
Luhan is here? He’s home? When? Why didn’t he call? Why -
Then he remembered.
We’re on hiatus. Of course.
He had so many questions. Where was Luhan staying? All his clothes were at home. Was he staying in a hotel since he landed? At a friend’s? Which one? Why hasn’t news of Luahn’s arrival been on the news, in the papers, on Naver? Did Luhan not want it announced?
Minseok felt dizzy. His world had been knocked off balance. How were things about to change now that Luhan was back? Hand shaking, he reached for his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, ready to dial Luhan’s number.
Wait. Does he even want to hear from me?
It was a terrible, sobering thought that froze his hand just before his thumb hit Call. The genie was out of the bottle. The awfulness of the possibility that the reason Luhan hadn’t called when he returned was not because of some agreement they’d made months ago. It was simply because Luhan hadn’t wanted to see Minseok.
Fuck this. Fuck Luhan. Minseok didn’t have time to stress himself out over whether Luhan called or not. If he’d wanted to, he would have. Squaring his shoulders, Minseok turned his mobile phone off.
His notifications went crazy when he opened his phone after work.
Ludear91: ;))
11.07AM
Ludear91: Baby?
11.10AM
Ludear91: Tried calling. Your phone is off?
12.03PM
Ludear91: I’m in town, Minseok.
12.33PM
Ludear91: Thought we could talk?
12.34PM
Ludear91: Dinner at eight?
5.15PM
~
This was the worst idea.
Minseok checked his watch. It was ten past eight now. So he’d officially been stood up. Par for the course, really. He checked his phone, expecting Luhan’s apology to materialize on the screen in the form a text message, his “I’m sorry, something came up” to pop up in his notifications.
Minseok wasn’t upset. Perhaps they need not have waited for Luhan’s return to decide the fate of their relationship. Maybe it already had been decided the moment they ended their last conversation when both had been too scared and too stubborn to admit which one of them wanted to let go first.
Minseok collected his jacket from the back of a chair and got ready to leave. He’d be sure to leave Irene a handsome tip for her service tonight.
“Baozi.”
For the last few weeks, Minseok had started to come to grips with his life without Luhan, this strange in-between place where they weren’t together but not quite broken up. It wasn’t his ideal turnout, but Minseok had settled into it. Yes, he believed he was ready for closure, he just didn’t think it would actually come. He’d come tonight ready to put his fists up, but the universe had thrown into his path his lovely doe-eyed man that was coming apart at the seams.
Minseok wished he could still fix this, but he didn’t have the tools to put them back together. He remained rooted to his spot even though he wanted to throw his arms around the man standing in front of him.
Luhan tilted his head slightly down, indicating they should sit. Minseok followed his lead and replaced his jacket to the back of a chair.
“I’m so happy you showed up,” Luhan said, splaying his hands on the table. He made a slight gesture to reach out for Minseok’s hands across the table, but stopped himself when he saw Minseok start. This made him lower his head and close his eyes for a second. Then he took a deep breath. “Can we try again? Please?”
They sat facing each other for the first time in ten months. It was taking everything in Minseok to stop himself from crossing the expanse of the table to meet Luhan’s lips in a kiss, to erase everything that they’ve been through in the last year by taking Luhan in his arms and starting over.
We can do that still, can’t we?
But then what comes after the tearful reconciliation? Minseok could see clearly how the evening would play out as though their life together was a special stage for a weekly show pre-recording.
They’ll embrace, Luhan’s tears will wet Minseok’s cheeks. Minseok will take Luhan’s hand in his. They’ll hail a cab, make out like it’s their first date, almost missing their stop. Minseok will struggle with his house keys as Luhan kisses his neck from behind. They’ll make it back to their bedroom, but just barely. They’ll make love - the sweetest it’s ever been since their first night. They’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms after another round, not as sweet as the first time, but harder. Angrier. They’ll claw at each other the way they’ve wanted to all these months they’ve been apart, maybe even draw blood. In the morning they’ll smile at each other across their bed and whisper their “Good mornings” until they manage to drag themselves out of bed for coffee. They’ll make plans for their evening. Luhan will have a car pick Minseok up at work. Luhan’s manager will call, and Minseok will retreat to the shower to get ready for the day. Through the spray of water, Luhan will apologize but he’ll have to take a raincheck for their date tonight because something has come up.
The cycle will start anew, at best.
Luhan’s eyes are deep pools of hope and regret. “I want to do better, Baozi. Will you still have me?” He shook his head, as though to clear it, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small dove grey box. Holding it as tenderly in his hands as he could, he opened it for Minseok. “For you.”
Minseok hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he felt the pain in his chest. He drew breath sharply. Inside the box was a simple gold band with six small diamonds in its setting. Six stones for every one of their six years together.
Minseok closed his eyes. The iceberg in his heart began to shift, start to crack. His cheeks were wet again.
Luhan made a small noise of joy from the back of his throat at Minseok’s reaction. “Marry me.”
Minseok couldn’t speak.
“Marry me, Minseok,” Luhan said. “Please say you’ll have me. I’ll give you the grandest wedding in the fall. When I come back from Berlin in the summer we can plan it and-”
Minseok reached out and took Luhan’s hands in his, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks now. He held the tiny open box in his hands and wished with every bone in his body that he could accept Luhan’s offer, but now he knew, now that he saw what he was worth to Luhan, he could see what Luhan was worth to him.
“Please Minseok,” Luhan said, smiling through his tears. “Say something.”
Minseok closed the lid of the tiny gray box and carefully set it back into Luhan’s hands, gently folding Luhan’s fingers over it, having him hold the box that held their almost-future.
“I have to go,” Minseok whispered. Luhan bowed his head over his ring, crushed. Somehow he had not expected this. Minseok was supposed to say yes.
Minseok’s heart was cold, had always been before he met Luhan, but at least Minseok was not cruel.
Minseok did not dare brush his lips over Luhan’s brow before making his exit, nor did he turn his head for one last look at the his love. Minseok strode through the rush of the restaurant’s evening service, past tables at which other lovers sat with their own compact, intimate, fragile dioramas of negotiation, celebration, anticipation, and maybe even heartbreak over dinner at eight.
no subject
Date: 2017-02-11 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-02-11 08:12 pm (UTC)