Chapter Text
Bin kicks the door open with his foot, balancing three boxes on top of each other.
“Why do you need to have so much stuff?”
Myungjun follows behind, hugging a massive potted plant and trying to manoeuvre it through the door.
“Oh my god, can you move out of the way, Binnie? That plant is a murder to carry; don’t moan if I drop it on your toe.”
Bin looks over his shoulder and laughs at the sight, long palm-like leaves quivering above Myungjun’s head like an exotic parasol as he strains under the weight of the massive green beast.
“Put that awful thing over there in the corner,” Bin gestures vaguely as Myungjun emerges from the hallway and stands a little lost, eyeing the piles of stuff rapidly filling up Bin’s living room.
“Don’t insult Cleopatra, if she senses your animosity, she will wilt,’ Myungjun carefully lowers the pot onto the floor and straightens with a wince, “Jeez, I think I've done my back in.”
Bin grunts and deposits the boxes in the middle of the room where a massive pyramid of them is already towering high.
“Please, don’t tell me I will have to address that thing with a name. Honestly, it would be borderline creepy. And we are not having it in the bedroom.”
“Why?” Myungjun whines, casting Cleopatra a longing look. “It looked really nice at my old place. Like a little piece of jungle brought right into my bedroom. Exotic, you know?”
“No way,” Bin drapes himself over Myungjun’s back, squeezing him close. “I love you, but that thing,” he jerks his head towards Cleopatra, standing – rather forlornly, Myungjun thinks – in the corner, “it will not leave that spot. Ever.”
“Awww,” Myungjun wriggles in Bin’s hold, trying to turn and face him. “I will feel sad without it when I go to sleep.”
Bin doesn’t relinquish his hold, merely giggles into Myungjun’s ear, “And I will feel safer without it. Plants produce oxygen during photosynthesis but they use it up at night, baby. I don’t like the feeling of being slowly suffocated in my sleep; I like to have the oxygen to myself. And besides, every time I stayed over at your place, it felt like Jungle Book. The leaves were touching my back every time I sat up; having sex there was like fucking Mowgli – please, don’t make me feel like a pervert again.”
Myungjun huffs a little, “Do I look like Mowgli?”
Bin snorts and bites his shoulder, “No, you don’t - although you are as small as him - ” he yelps as Myungjun aims a backwards kick at his shin. “But tough, baby, there will be no overgrown greenery in the bedroom.”
“Fine, whatever, leave poor Cleopatra all alone in the corner,” Myungjun slips out of Bin’s embrace with a pout.
“If I promise to water her and not swear at her, will you stop sulking and give me a kiss?” Bin opens his arms in an invitation, all puppy eyes and a cute smile.
“Maybe,” Myungjun stands still and throws him a coquettish look over his shoulder, then, quick as a flash, sprints towards the front door.
“Oh no, don’t you dare!”
In three strides, Bin catches up with him and presses his back against the heavy front door.
“I deserve a kiss,” Bin giggles as Myungjun tries to push him away but is losing the battle rapidly.
“Not sure you do,” he pants into Bin’s mouth, trying in vain to wriggle out of Bin’s iron grip, “you were mean to Cleopatra.”
“If you breathe one more word about that stupid plant, Junnie,“ Bin pins him harder against the polished wood, laughing, “I swear I will spank your ass.”
“Ooh,” Myungjun’s eyebrows shoot up high, “now that’s new! Are you trying to hint at something, Binnie? A kink that you haven’t told me about yet?”
“Do you think I would wait for two years to spank you if I was into that?” Bin is nosing at his throat and Myungjun feels his legs turning into jelly.
“How should I know? You started about Mowgli today and spank-“
The rest is cut off when Bin grabs the back of his thighs, hoisting him up. “The kiss, Junnie. I’m waiting.”
Myungjun chuckles, squeezing his legs around Bin’s waist, leaning as far as he can, “You need to steal it.”
Without missing a heartbeat, Bin presses their lips together. The door rattles as he pushes Myungjun against it.
“Guys, I can hear you. It’s disgusting.”
“Oh,” Bin pulls back, panting slightly. “I forgot about Rocky.”
Giggling, Myungjun uses the opportunity to slide down and slip past Bin back to the living room.
“Let me in, I can't hold these for much longer!”
Bin sighs and opens the door.
Rocky staggers in with another load of removal boxes and shoots him and unimpressed look, “Could you please wait with the celebratory ‘claiming the territory’ - or whatever that was - until I leave?”
“I don’t need to claim anything,” Bin frowns in confusion. “This is my apartment.”
“Maybe it was Myungjun who was marking it then.”
There is an indignant squeal from the living room. “I was not marking anything, Park Minhyuk, I’m not a dog! I started a perfectly decent conversation; then it all went downhill. Tell Bin to restrain himself!”
Bin snickers and flattens himself against the wall as Rocky pushes past him with the heavy load, then trails behind him along the long hallway, now lined with random collection of things from Myungjun’s apartment.
The pyramid of removal boxes in the living room looks downright menacing.
“How many more still in the van?” Myungjun picks a box named FRAGILE and brings it into the kitchen corner, placing it carefully on the counter.
“Probably six or seven,” Rocky runs both hands through his hair, looking mildly incredulous. “Why do you have so much stuff?”
“Because I have refined taste and like to collect beautiful things,” Myungjun replies, eyebrows arched, the look challenging Minhyuk to say something.
Minhyuk refrains, but only for a second. The temptation is too much. “Do video games and DVDs count as beautiful things?”
‘How dare you?” Myungjun gasps. “Give me a week and you’ll see how I’ll transform this barren place! It needs beauty, it needs a little bit of life!”
He spreads his arms wide and starts dancing around the room.
Minhyuk closes his eyes in quiet exasperation, “Remind me why you’re still with him, Binnie?”
Bin grabs Myungjun’s hand as he swirls past them in a rather wild rendition of a Viennese waltz. He tucks Myungjun to his side and smiles at Minhyuk’s huffy face, “Because he makes me happy.”
“And because he loves fucking me,” Myungjun giggles and Minhyuk gasps in shock.
“Jeez, Junnie,” Bin flushes pink. “Have you started on the beer in the fridge already? You know you can't handle booze on an empty stomach.”
“Nah,” Myungjun waves his hand dismissively. “I just love riling him up. Look how embarrassed he is.”
“I hate you,” Minhyuk looks at Myungjun, eyes narrowed in a passive-aggressive grin.
“I hate you too,” Myungjun grins back contentedly, happy to have achieved his goal, infuriating or mortifying The Rock at least once a day.
For a moment, they both stare at each other silently, then burst out laughing, the happiness bubbling in Myungjun’s chest.
…………………………
“I love you, Junnie.”
Myungjun stretches on the bed, languid, satisfied. He tangles his fingers in Bin’s damp hair and pulls him in for a kiss, “I love you more.”
His bones feel soft and floppy, the marrow turned warm, golden liquid. He breaks the kiss and rolls over, burying his head between his arms, happy, exhausted.
The sweat on their bodies is cooling off and Bin’s finger slides easily across Myungjun’s back, drawing random patterns onto his skin.
“I’m so happy that you are here, Junnie. I can't believe it took you so long to move in with me though.” Bin’s fingers are tracing the bumps of his spine, one by one.
Myungjun turns his head, cheek pillowed against his arms, and looks up at Bin who is watching him like he is the eighth wonder of the universe.
His already flushed cheeks redden a little more, “I didn’t want to… to make it look like I’m sponging off you, Binnie. I’m not a gold-digger.”
Bin’s finger stops somewhere at his lower back. “I know you are not! And I never thought you were, ever.”
“But your friends might have thought that. I was having hard time as it was, to convince Minhyuk I’m not the absolute personification of evil.”
Bin laughs, “Oh god, Minhyuk. He did give you a hard time at the beginning, I know. But he likes you know. Could you stop teasing him all the time, baby?”
“But it’s so much fun,” Myungjun pouts. “I used to think he was scary, but he is just a giant marshmallow inside, so easily flustered when you know how; it always makes my day. And today I needed it badly because I was sad. You didn’t let poor Cleopat-“
Bin’s hand lands on his bare ass cheek with a loud slap.
Myungjun yelps, “What was that for? That hurt!”
“It was meant to,” Bin chuckles, voice pleased. “I have warned you. No more talking about that plant.”
Myungjun opens his mouth to protest but Bin flips him over in one swift motion, as if Myungjun was a paper doll, and pins him down. He is still giggling, the hilarity not subsiding one bit, as he bites Myungjun’s shoulder.
“Let me go, you beefcake!” Myungjun thrashes underneath him but it’s a vain attempt to break free; he knows it. Since they have been together, Bin has put on a considerable amount of weight and it’s pure muscle. Myungjun might have had a chance two years ago; right now, all resistance is futile.
“Nope. This is fun.” Bin’s breathy laugh tickles in the crook of his neck. “ Maybe I could get used to it, you know. Spanking and all that.”
“In your dreams. Let me go, you big, muscly…”
“What?” Bin’s whole body is shaking with laughter but he doesn’t budge an inch, his body pressing Myungjun into the mattress, hardly allowing him to breathe, let alone move.
“Let go or I will never cook for you again!”
“Oh.”
In a heartbeat, Bin stops. He lifts himself up on his elbows and eyes Myungjun a little uncertainly. “You wouldn’t do that, Junnie, right?”
“Oh, I would.” The tilt of Myungjun’s chin is defiant, now that he is able to breath again, but his lips are twitching. Bin, for all his bulging muscles, looks at him like a kicked puppy.
“Junnie~~”
“What?” Myungjun is trying really hard not to giggle.
Bin starts peppering his jaw with kisses, “You smell so good.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Myungjun is biting his lips but his body is already shaking with supressed laughter.
“You know your cooking is the best. Better than my mum’s.” Bin’s lips are sliding down his neck now and Myungjun tilts his head almost imperceptibly but maintains a stony demeanour.
“You are laying it on really thick now, Binnie. Scared of having to live on instant ramen?”
“You wouldn’t do that. You love me,” Bin whines against the hollow of Myungjun’s throat, his breath hot against Myungjun’s skin.
“I'm seriously rethinking my love, now that you’re telling me that you might enjoy spanking my ass.”
“I was just thinking aloud, you know,“ Bin mumbles against his chest. Myungjun can feel the grin in his voice. ‘There is nothing wrong with thinking about spicing up our sex life, you know.”
“There is also nothing wrong with me thinking about not cooking for you anymore.” Feeling Bin’s lips pressed against his sternum, Myungjun knows he is losing the field advantage rapidly, his thoughts getting hazed, fuzzy around the edges.
“Ok, ok, I will never mention spanking or anything BDSM-related, ever. I promise,” Bin chuckles, giving his chest a tiny lick.
Myungjun’s vision is starting to blur. “You still need to make it up to me for that slap,“ he pants, body arching slightly.
“Do I now?” Bin looks up and smirks. It makes Myungjun feel like he’s being undressed although he already is naked from top to toe.
“Oh, I will make it up to you, baby,” Bin’s mouth slides down onto his stomach, “I will.”
…………………………..
He wakes up in the middle of the night, shaken by the same dream he’s been having for the last two years.
It is always the ice rink.
Bin’s thin body framed in a halo of orange sunset, the hollow emptiness in his eyes.
Myungjun sits up and takes couple of deep breaths. He has learned to live with it by now but he needs couple of seconds to take stock, to make sure it’s not real.
Bin is next to him, sprawled freely across the bed the way he always sleeps, his body reassuringly warm. To ground himself, Myungjun touches the soft skin of his cheek, trying to supress the image that’s still lingering around the edges of his consciousness.
He traces the lines of Bin’s face, marvelling at the way it broadened over the last two years, a tiny bit of flesh finally settling in the hollows of his cheeks.
The warm skin of Bin’s throat is smooth under his fingers as he skims down, palms finding the bulging muscles of Bins shoulders.
He needs to feel the newly-acquired sturdiness of Bin’s body, the proof of their life together for the past two years, a reminder that this is who Bin is now, his body healthy and strong, his smile blinding and carefree, his eyes shining with happiness.
Myungjun does everything to make sure the love of his life never again resembles the thin, starved boy he stood in front of him two years ago, eyes vacant, as if all life has been sucked out of him.
He cooks. Homemade food, simple food, dishes his sister taught him. He wants to make sure Bin eats well. Minhyuk and Lisa often come for lunch on Sundays, even Jungkook and Taehyung sometimes. They eat together, hours of feast stretched blissfully into the late afternoon. Myungjun watches Bin stuffing his face like a little chipmunk and simply smiles and fills his bowl again.
He packs snacks for Bin to eat at school, to take with him to the gym, to classes.
The memory of Bin’s starved body from two years ago is almost forgotten.
Almost.
The dream still comes back sometimes but it happens less often now.
Every night, before he goes to sleep, Myungjun conjures images of Bin that he wants to imprint into his mind, things that happened that day, things he wants to remember forever.
He is a collector of beautiful things, he always was – there are pieces of art now in their apartment - but now he also collects memories.
Happy memories.
He has amassed a fair share of them by now and the number is growing every day.
Some of them go like this:
Rattling of Bin’s keys in the lock on weekday nights, his voice - I'm home, Junnie – the sight of him as he drops his bag on the floor, runs towards Myungjun and scoops him up in his arms, whispering I missed you into his hair.
A Sunday afternoon, Minhyuk and Lisa sitting with them at the table. Bin laughing so hard at something Minhyuk says that he starts choking on his noodles. Minhyuk’s and his own hand shooting up and landing on Bin’s back at the same time. Minhyuk withdraws his hand and smiles at Myungjun over Bin’s head – you got it. Bin’s eyes, streaming with tears but laughing at the same time after Myungjun whacks his back so hard he nearly faceplants into the bowl of ramen in front of him.
An afternoon on the beach, Myungjun and Taehyung sitting on the hot sand, beer in their hands, the July sun beating down mercilessly. Bin and Jungkook playing frisbee, Bin’s muscles rippling under his tanned skin and Myungjun getting breathless at the thought of touching them later that night.
The sound of Bin’s voice as he cries out, the beautiful sound echoing in the dark bedroom, his eyes not leaving Myungjun, not even for a second, and they are not empty anymore; they are so much, so much.
The beep of Myungjun’s phone at work and a picture of an empty food container appearing on his screen, it was so good Junnie, I love you!!
Freezing December air and the feel of Bin’s lips on his, Bin’s hand tugging him urgently to go home after a night out. Stumbling through the glass door into the warmth of their lobby – the night portman glaring at them disapprovingly – Bin’s laugh high-pitched and bubbly, his eyes holding Myungjun’s in the elevator, breathless with anticipation.
Bin’s face against the pillow in the morning, eyes puffy with sleep, blinking at him slowly. “I love you, Junnie, I love you so much.”
Those are the memories he wants to treasure, memories he wants to dream about.
………………………
“Why did it have to be today?” Myungsoon eyes the ice rink a little wearily. “I had to leave work early.”
“Sorry, sis.” Myungjun puts on his sweetest, sheepish, little-brother smile. “I thought we could all get into the Christmas mood.”
“It will be so cool,” next to her, Sanha is jumping up and down with excitement. “We haven’t done this for ages! Come on, Mum, it’s gonna be so much fun.”
“Ok, ok,” at least, there is a hint of smile on Myungsoon’s face. “Let’s go and put the skates on.”
Sitting on the bench, Myungjun’s fingers are shaking a little. He watches Sanha babbling something excitedly to his mother but he can barely hear it for the loud thumping of his heart.
He checks his phone. Bin should be here soon.
He finishes lacing up his skates and gives Myungsoon a smile. “Shall we go?”
The rink is busy and they carefully join the cheerful crowd.
Sanha is speeding despite his mother’s protests and Myungjun tries his best to keep up with him.
“Hey, pumpkin, wait. You’re way too fast for me now!”
Sanha slows down and rolls his eyes a little, “Can you not call me pumpkin, please? I’m eleven now.”
Myungjun smiles, grateful he doesn’t need to chase after the boy.
“Of course, Sanha. I forget that you are a big boy now.”
The grin on Sanha’s face is positively dripping with satisfaction, “I will be taller than you soon.”
“Yes, you probably will be,” Myungjun eyes the boy’s tall lanky frame thoughtfully. “ Listen, string bean – see I have a new name for you,” he grins and laughs a little at Sanha’s indignant gasp, “I will go and keep your mum company for a bit.”
He waves in direction of the exit where Myungsoon is hovering a little hesitantly. “We will take it nice and slow and you can speed up now; I’m only slowing you down. When Bin comes, you can race him.”
“Where is he?” Sanha might indeed look like an overgrown bean but his voice is still that of a little boy. “I want Bin to come; he is so much more fun than you.”
“Stop whinging,” Myungjun shoots him a sideways glance, “Bin will be here any minute. And if you keep moaning about how boring I am, there will be no more posters and drawings for you.”
Sanha changes track immediately, “I love you Uncle Myungjun, you are the best.”
‘Yeah, yeah, I can see right through you,” Myungjun gives him a little poke in the ribs. “Now, off you go, Bin will be here soon. I’ll join your mum; she looks a bit sad over there.”
“Ok, Uncle Myungjun!” Sanha shoots off as if his life depended on it.
Myungjun joins his sister who is skating carefully, at a leisurely pace.
“I left him, he is getting too fast for me.”
“That’s ok, he’ll be fine.” Myungsoon giggles and links their hands, “Come on, little brother, I need some support.”
Slowly, they are circling the rink, keeping an eye at Sanha who whizzes past them every once in a while, laughing and trying to tickle his mother or to give Myungjun a shove in his ribs.
Trying to be subtle, Myungjun check his phone but his sister smirks at him immediately.
“Can’t wait?”
He feels his cheeks heat up. Myungsoon is enjoying this; he knows. His sister and her family met Bin a year ago, just after they moved in together, and Myungjun could tell Myungsoon approved.
She also hasn’t stopped teasing him about them since then.
Sighing, he stuffs the phone back in his pocket. “He is on his way.”
Myungsoon is about to say something, a cheeky smile on her face, when a tall figure emerges from a mêlée of people near the entrance.
“Junnie!”
Bin skates quickly towards them, panting and looking dishevelled, and so beautiful that Myungjun’s breath hitches a little.
Myungsoon doesn’t pay attention to his gawking and she and Bin greet each other warmly, Bin bowing slightly, still trying to catch his breath.
“Hey,” Myungjun curls into his side briefly, before letting go. “You look like you ran a marathon.”
“The financial analysis seminar ran longer than I thought it would,” Bin exhales loudly. “I had to run for the bus and then I sprinted all the way here from the bus stop.
“You didn’t need to run, Binnie,” Myungjun smiles gently.
Bin pulls him close, ignoring the people around, “But I wanted to be here as fast as I could. I need to head back in half an hour; I had to swap with Minhyuk, I’m teaching the first class today.”
“Oh,” Myungjun looks up uncertainly from where he buried his face into Bin’s coat. “You should have told me; I wouldn’t have dragged you here today.”
“But I really wanted to be here,” Bin’s look is intense all of a sudden. “I know why we came.”
“You know?” Myungjun breathes out.
“I remember, Junnie. Three years ago.” Bin is not letting go of him and Myungjun forgets about Myungsoon with her back turned, watching the skaters and trying to give them some privacy; he forgets about Sanha, circling the rink and probably desperately waiting for Bin to come and join him. The only thing that matters right now is Bin and his eyes looking at Myungjun; eyes that are not empty anymore, eyes that are shining and bright and full.
“Would you have come back to me, even if we hadn’t met here?” Myungjun clings to the lapels of Bin’s coat, casting his eyes down. This is a loaded question but Myungjun has wondered about that for much longer than he cares to admit.
“I don’t know. I mean… maybe? Possibly? God, I don’t know, Junnie. But I'm glad it happened. I’m so glad.” Bin wraps his arms around him and Myungjun lets himself go, melting under Bin’s touch.
“Have you ever regretted it?”
“No.” Bin tilts Myungjun’s face so he can look into his eyes. “Never. I’m so glad you are with me, Junnie.”
Myungjun feels tears stinging in his eyes and blinks them away quickly. “I love you, Binnie.” His body is aching for a kiss but surrounded by swarms of squealing children and hovering parents, he restrains himself.
Bin simply stares at him, face glowing from within, illuminated like he has a Christmas tree stuck inside his chest cavity. “I love you too.”
“Uncle Binnie!”
At a break-neck speed, Sanha barrels into them, full force.
“Hey, big boy,” Bin recovers his balance, steadying Myungjun with his arm. “You have gotten much better at skating, since I last saw you here.”
“You did?” Sanha frowns in confusion. “We never went skating together. I went to the cinema with you and Uncle Myungjun, and to the arcade, and we had a picnic in the park …” He trails off, forehead scrunched, questioning eyes on Bin.
Bin smiles lightly, reassuring, “You probably don’t remember, Sanha. You were eight – and we didn’t come to skate together. I just met you and Uncle Myungjun here.”
Comprehension slowly dawns on the boy’s face, “I know! You… you talked to Uncle Myungjun, I remember that, but… you looked different. And you were sad.”
Over Sanha’s head, Bin and Myungjun exchange a glance.
“It was a long time ago, Sanha,” Bin shrugs a little, keeping his voice light.
“You’re not sad anymore, right?”
“Definitely not,” Bin laughs and winks at the boy, “and right now I want to challenge you to a race!”
Sanha squeals in delight.
“You coming, Junnie?” Bin turns to him, eyes crinkled in a smile so warm, he could probably heat up the whole ice rink with it.
Myungjun shakes his head, ‘You go, guys, I’ll join you in a minute.”
They are gone in a flesh, Sanha trying his best to overtake Bin the moment they start.
Watching them from the edge, Myungjun’ s heart is warm. Bin doesn’t cut Sanha too much slack but he is focused, attentive, not leaving him out of his eyesight. Myungjun could watch them for hours.
After a while, Sanha starts flagging, panting heavily, his movements becoming more sluggish. Bin slows down and, taking the boy’s hand, they slowly circle back where both Myungjun and Myungsoon are standing, watching them.
“Mum,” Sanha peels away form Bin. “Did you see how fast I was? Did you see it?”
“I did, darling,” Myungsoon smiles and pulls her son close for a hug. “You were like a bolt of lightning.”
Bin stops in from of Myungjun.
The orange sunset behind his back is creating a halo around him and he smiles, cheeks flushed pink. “Come on, Junnie, your turn now. I’ll kick your ass.”
Myungjun doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply soaking up the sight.
This is the memory he keeps.