Chapter Text
Everything seems to have taken a toll on Junhui.
"Junhui, you have to check this out," cries Hansol.
"What? I don't have time," snaps Junhui, feeling his patience wear immeasurably thin. The rest of them must've noticed, because the chattering stops. "Listen, I can't deal with this shit today, okay?"
He storms out of the abandoned classroom.
"Hey, isn't this the first time he's ever left like that?" Wonwoo mutters.
"Yeah. After his huge fight with Minghao, he's stopped caring," Jihoon complains, nudging Chan for support. Chan delivers, and wonderfully so.
"What are we, disposable underwear? He can't just leave like that, for God's sake, the gang's in shambles. Well, kind of, but the rival gang's growing in numbers and Junhui's not doing anything."
"Usually he would've called us to knock the rival gang down a peg," Seungcheol states. "Now he won't even listen to Hansol."
Junhui stands outside the door, blending in with the shadows. He listens intently. The brief image of Minghao waiting patiently for him in their dorm flashes in his mind, but he has to protect Minghao, even if it's in his own twisted way.
"Minghao's a horrible influence. I have no qualms against killing him," Jeonghan sighs, and everyone agrees unanimously.
"I think you're right. All of you," Junhui says as he walks in again. "I've failed to prioritise the gang, something I should've done as a leader. Now, why don't we go and teach them a lesson? Let's see if they can still be so haughty." The high-ranked members, Junhui's most trusted, cheer. Eyes wild, they grab their bats. The smell of cigarettes follow them like vengeful spirits. Junhui thinks he forgot something, but he can't remember what.
"What about Minghao?" Soonyoung bumps Junhui's shoulder. He pauses in his tracks for a while, and they all stop with him.
"He can wait. The gang always comes first," Junhui laughs.
"Yeah, he had better. One more time, Junhui, and I'll shoot his brains out," Jeonghan threatens, and Junhui wonders who's the actual leader. But Jeonghan's threats are never to be taken lightly.
Minghao's face flashes in his mind again. It gets brushed away like dust from a floor. "Sure."
"Junhui, can I tell you something?" Minghao asks worriedly as he's eating lunch.
"Of course, bǎobèi. Is something wrong?" Junhui replies, entwining his fingers with Minghao's.
"Promise you won't get mad?"
Junhui's brows crease, and he holds both of Minghao's hands in his. "I promise, Minghao. You can tell me anything."
"I feel like you're spending too much time with the gang. I, um, get that you're the leader and stuff but you've been back really late these days and we don't have time to, um, spend time with each other?" Minghao finishes lamely, choosing to stare at Junhui's knees. "I'm sorry if I sound insensitive or rude or like I don't understand, but I just really miss you, Junhui. We barely see each other."
"Hey, shh, it's fine, Minghao. I should be the one apologising, really, for not realising you feel this way."
"You're not angry at me?"
He walks over to Minghao and gently wraps his arms around the pianist, bringing Minghao's head to his chest. "Why would I be mad at you, Minghao? You told me about what's making you upset. I could never get mad at you for that."
Minghao's arms encircle Junhui's waist like an angel's halo. "So, um, will—"
"Yes. I promise you, I'll make sure to spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner with you. Breakfast and lunch at the very least, okay?"
"Okay," Minghao whispers, voice muffled.
"Okay," Junhui repeats, fingers stroking Minghao's hair.
He's been so busy these few days, getting into fights with the rival gang. It's addictive, it's thrilling, and it reminds Junhui of the glorious days where he could freely injure and get injured without having to worry about the figure behind his back.
"Come on," he spits, blood splattering on the floor. "Are you gonna say anything, or am I gonna have to restart?" The rival gang's leader doesn't say anything.
It only brings a smile to Junhui's face. "Okay," he sings, swinging his bat to hit the slab of meat's belly. It howls and clutches its stomach. "What about now?" Still nothing, and the smile grows impossibly wider. "Woozi, Dino, I don't think it knows how to speak. Would the two of you help out?"
"With pleasure," the twins chime in unison. Under the shadows, they look more terrifying than they usually are. "Come on now, big boy." Jihoon lifts the leader up, sharp fingernails digging into his neck as Chan forces his eyes open. "Look at all your members on the floor. Do you see how we're all stronger?" Nothing, and Jihoon's fingernails dig into soft and squelchy flesh.
Blood drips onto the floor, again, again, again, the only thing keeping Junhui grounded.
Now he remembers, why he joined a gang in the first place. The thrill of evading arrest by the skin of his teeth, the thrill of feeling blood spurt under his fists. He wants more. It's all coming back, the entire reason why he rose to the position of the leader. Power, and the delight that comes with it.
"Looks like you're finally back, Junhui," Wonwoo gives him a sly look, "after three years."
"You're right. I am back," crows Junhui. Once again, his wretched mind brings Minghao back before his eyes, and he can't cast it aside this time. The vision calls out to him, and suddenly everything stops. Jihoon and Chan stop plunging their nails into flesh, the people on the floor stop moaning in pain.
"Junhui, please," begs the vision. "You're going to get even more hurt if you continue." It's what Minghao said a week or a month or a year ago; Junhui can't remember. "Really, this is the last time I'm saving your ass like this, Junhui. There's no next time." But he knows it's a lie. Every time Minghao says something like that, Junhui knows he doesn't mean it.
Minghao always comes back to save him.
It dissipates like fog, and Junhui relishes in the tortured screams resounding. "Say it, and I'll stop."
"Fine! Fuck, I'm sorry for trespassing on your territory, okay? I'm sorry, so stop!"
Junhui lifts a single hand. Everything halts. "Enough," he says, words barely louder than a whisper, but it booms in the deathly silence anyway. "We're done here." He leaves with the rest trailing behind him, each taking turns to spit on the rival gang leader's face.
The lights are turned off when Junhui finally returns to his dorm. Funny, because Minghao always waits up for him.
Hands card through each other's hair, lips locked in a messy embrace. It tastes like strawberries, like caramel, like sunlight, like a promise of eternity. Junhui's hands explore Minghao's body.
"God, you're perfect," Junhui mutters, biting and sucking on Minghao's neck.
"That, ah, that's not my name," Minghao quips.
"I see you can still talk, huh? Let's change that, shall we?" He attacks the expanse of skin in front of his eyes like a man starved and taunted. "Mine," he enunciates with every bite. "Mine, mine, mine. All mine."
"All yours," affirms the statue on his lap.
The words stick with Junhui until the next time a note comes. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, like he promised, and the brilliance Minghao exudes can rival the brightest of all stars. It doesn't make sense, how someone can be so perfect.
"What are you thinking about?" Minghao asks. "You know, I'm really glad that I get to eat with you like this."
"Nothing. You're really cute, you know? You've taught me how to enjoy the life I never thought would be enjoyable. I've never experienced safety and stability before, but you've opened my eyes. And so I got us something." Hesitantly, carefully, he takes out a little velvet box. "It's just a promise ring. I...I want to give you everything you deserve, but I can't do that now."
Minghao looks at the dainty box that carries the weight of the world in awe. "Junhui, you really didn't have to. I'm content like this."
"No. I want to," Junhui shakes his head firmly. "I want to bring you to Prague, to all corners of the world, everywhere." The box opens, and the sunlight scatters rainbows all across their table. "It's nothing much, really. Just a set of rings I saw one day."
"You know, there's something from the culture back in my hometown," Minghao says slowly, finger tracing the ring like a key on a piano. "That if two people gift rings or bracelets to each other, their souls will be bound together for the rest of their lives. Are you sure you want to be stuck with me, Junhui?" And there it is, the cat-like grin that tosses all the other problems out of Junhui's head.
"Very sure," he murmurs, taking the ring to slip on Minghao's pinkie finger. "Until I can get you something better."
"Is that a promise, Wen Junhui?"
"If you want it to be."
The rings are simple but pretty; thin silver bands with a little gemstone on top that forms a heart when put together. A carefully thought out gift, one that Junhui swears to never remove.
Friday rolls around again, and as expected, a note waits for Junhui on his nightstand.
"Mine, always, where it always happens," he drones. He crumples it and tosses it into his trashcan. Not that he feels good about doing it, but with the gang growing bigger, he's too busy to go on a repeat of two weeks ago and two weeks later. Junhui doesn't know when's the last time he actually saw Minghao outside of the occasional run-ins in the toilet or hallways.
The home, full as it is, feels like a graveyard. He reasons that it's simply just a dry spell and leaves the dorm.
"You're here early today," Jeonghan sniffs. "Aren't you supposed to go for a date at this time?"
"Yeah, you always come late on alternate Fridays," chimes Soonyoung. "Have you broken up already?"
"You wish. He'll understand. The gang always comes first, anyway."
"Glad to know you remember that," someone mutters under his breath. Junhui looks up sharply to see one of the newer members leering at him. "Finally came back from your whore, boss? You've been gone for so long I started to wonder if you died in his ass. Little goody-two-shoes, and you're ensnared, huh? Useless. Even I would make a better leader."
Junhui snaps.
"You dare insult me? Do you think I'm weak? Think you can be better than me? Fine. If you can beat me in a fight, I'll let you become the boss," Junhui seethes. Wonwoo whistles lowly; Junhui only defended his dignity and not Minghao. He nudges Seungcheol, who raises his eyebrows in agreement. "Come. Let's see just how good you are."
Junhui tosses his shirt in a corner, firm and toned muscles on display. It draws out wolf whistles from the majority of the gang, who moves to stand behind Junhui. Save for a few. Suddenly, he's grateful for taking martial arts since he was a child. Lithe movements, like a snake, like water from the river near his old house, he encircles the member. Junhui's fist meets a nose, and he can hear an audible crack.
Always make the first move. Blood spurts from the broken nose like water from a leaky faucet. It's a one-sided fight, really. The other member's all brawl and no brains, blindly swinging his fists with openings Junhui can easily slip through. Punch, kick, knee. Punch, kick, knee.
A conductor of the requiem, he steps with the raindrops.
Some of the blood gets on Junhui's face. He licks it up and spits it at the member's face. "Come," Junhui says again, eyes prowling. "I always welcome a good fight. Except this time, I don't play fair." As if on cue, Junhui's most trusted stand behind him. Seungcheol and Jeonghan, with their army knives. Wonwoo, with a little pistol. Soonyoung, with a wooden bat with tiger stickers, all stained red. Jisoo and Hansol, with matching revolvers. Jihoon and Chan, with nothing but their fists and nails so sharp they can cut open a package.
A hand goes into the air, silencing everyone. A forward flick of a finger, and they pounce on the betrayers. It's messy, it's bloody, it's loud, everything Junhui likes in a good fight.
Something drops to the ground with a little clink, but Junhui's busying himself with breaking the bones of the member's hand one by one. By the end of it, they're all splattered with blood like a cheap Halloween show.
His finger feels lighter that night.
"Junhui, where have you been? I was so worried, and—Oh my God, is that blood? Are you okay? Did you get hurt anywhere?" Minghao fusses yet again like an overprotective mother. His elegant pianist fingers belie the sheer strength he grips Junhui with as he inspects his lover.
"I'm not in the mood for this, Minghao," Junhui snaps, pushing Minghao off. He storms into the shower, not even noticing the blanket Minghao's wrapped around himself or the way his nose is plugged up with tissues.
It was raining that afternoon, but Minghao stayed under the tree, vainly hoping that Junhui would come. After all, he had never missed one of their trysts before. He sneezes; the glint on Junhui's finger is gone.
The bed's empty that night. Minghao wonders if it's mirroring Junhui.
"Junhui, can you come pick me up? I'm stranded at the academy because Seokmin's car broke down," Minghao asks frantically in Mandarin.
"You never talk to me in Mandarin unless something's incredibly wrong or you're mad at me. I'm not picking favourites, but I'd rather it be the first one," Junhui comments, throwing on his leather jacket. "What's up?"
"Right, so, um, I'm just stuck here and I have a really really important thing to pick up and I cannot afford to miss it!"
"Alright, alright. I'll come over, so calm down, okay? Why don't you go annoy Seokmin with piano trivia?" Junhui suggests, and Minghao hangs up with a very loud and enthusiastic "Yes! That is a wonderful idea!" Junhui shakes his head and laughs, walking to his motorcycle. The ride there's pleasant, and Junhui even spotted a stray cat. He hums happily as he stops outside the academy, neck craning as he looks for Minghao.
When he finally emerges, it's as if someone swept all the clouds away. A beautiful smile adorns Minghao's face, but it's one Junhui's never seen before. He's never seen that smile before, nor has he seen the way Minghao looks so relaxed, so golden and radiant. Someone's waving goodbye, and he's of radiance and gold too. Junhui waves but of course, Minghao's too engrossed in his conversation. He waves again, calling Minghao's name this time. That's when Minghao looks up, turning in the Sun, his eyes searching for his name.
"Junhui!" Minghao calls happily, running towards him. "This is my classmate. We have the same teacher!"
"Pleasure," Junhui gives him a forced smile.
"Likewise," the boy grins. "See you next time, Minghao."
The ride back's unpleasant, and Junhui forgets to regale Minghao with the tale of a stray cat sighting. He drops Minghao off at the shop, mouth curled in distaste when he thinks of Minghao and that boy. Tinkling laughter fills the air. Junhui shuts it out. Minghao walks out with a box carefully nestled in his arms, looking at it like it's the most precious thing in the world.
"Something wrong?" Minghao prods Junhui once they're back. Junhui debates on whether to tell Minghao or to lie with a smile, but he remembers telling Minghao that he could tell Junhui anything, and it would be hypocritical of him to not do the same.
"Are you close to the boy? You seem awfully happy with him. Did he hold your hand? I think I saw him hold your hand." The words tumble out of Junhui's mouth, rushing out one after the other. For a moment, he's worried that Minghao will get upset.
"Oh, are you worried about that? Junhui, he's the friend from my hometown that I told you about. Were you dozing off again?" Minghao laughs, pressing a kiss to Junhui's nose. "I'm sorry if I caused a misunderstanding. Here, I was planning to save it for tomorrow, but I think you need it now."
"You're not mad at me?"
"Not in the slightest." The box opens, and it's a cake. "I, um, wanted to thank you for the ring but I didn't know how, so I settled for a cake."
"I love it."
"Really?"
"Yes."
And just like that, he feels silly for having misunderstood. Minghao will never leave him. Never. He's a fool to have thought that. Minghao would never betray him like that. A strange satisfaction settles in Junhui's chest.
It's been days since Minghao last talked to Junhui. He hasn't been responding to any texts either, and Mingyu definitely isn't helping. Neither are Seungkwan and Seokmin, who started singing and dancing in front of him.
"What're you doing?" Minghao croaks, voice scratchy from crying.
"Performing," they sing in unison, moving in sync with the music. Mingyu watches with a disgusted expression, sliding a box of tissues to Minghao. "To cheer you up. Is it working?"
Minghao only cries harder, latching himself onto Mingyu. "He keeps ignoring me!" he blubbers. "And I haven't talked to him in days! He didn't even eat the breakfast I cooked, that fucker!" The two unwelcome performers start harmonising the word "fucker", much to Mingyu's dismay.
"Would the two of you stop parading around like chickens? He's heartbroken," Mingyu sighs, patting Minghao's back. "Listen, Wonwoo's doing the same thing to me. Keeps talking about how he wants to keep me safe by being distant. It doesn't make sense." He looks at them pointedly, and they take the cue.
"That's right," Seungkwan parrots. "Even though it doesn't make sense."
"Maybe he isn't good for you anymore, Minghao," Seokmin advises gently. Minghao can't help but think he's right.
"Why don't you give us a whole list of what he's done?" suggests Mingyu.
"He started being really cold and pushing me away. Then he skipped our dates. Then he didn't care that I caught a cold waiting for him. Then he lost the ring he bought for us to match," Minghao starts.
"Disgusting. Seokmin's right, you know. If it happens again, you should leave him. Really."
"See? Seungkwan agrees with me. Mingyu probably does too, because he's making that constipated face again."
The door swings open and Junhui trundles in. "You have visitors? Keep it down. I'm tired," he says, not even sparing Minghao a glance.
"Junhui, wait! I have to—"
The door slams in his face, and Minghao's left stunned.
Junhui sprawls on the bed, thinking about the gang. He has to keep Minghao safe this way. God forbid he let Jeonghan touch Minghao like how he got rid of Seungcheol's ex. He can't afford to show any weakness anymore. Three years with Minghao has made him soft. No wonder his gang didn't follow his orders that much. He sighs, staring at the ceiling.
"He'll understand," Junhui lies to himself. "Just like he always does. He'll understand once I tell him."
Overestimating someone's patience is worse than underestimating it.
Minghao's not sure if he can take it anymore.
"Will you promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Promise to never leave or be cold to me?"
"I promise."
And that was the first time Junhui's ever lied to Minghao under the watchful eyes of the stars.
Minghao paces in his room, twiddling his fingers.
"Do I really have to do this?" he asks himself, even though the answer is already clear as day. Junhui's been skipping all their dates for the past two months, and even if Minghao tries to get closer to him, he gets pushed away.
Suddenly, it's like they're back to square one, as if the last three years didn't matter. "Soulmates," Minghao had told Junhui years ago as he tied little red strings on their fingers. "This means we're soulmates." He remembers, vivid as ever, the way Junhui's face lit up and turned into the same shade of red as the string. He had tried it again a couple of days ago, in hopes of seeing Junhui smile again.
"I'm busy. Don't bother me with things like this," Junhui had said curtly instead, brushing Minghao aside. Minghao sits on the bed again, mulling over his decision.
Junhui's in a fight again, with the rival gang. Their leader had been a really sore loser and decided to fight it out but with actual weapons this time. "Fine by me," he laughs heartily. "Be my guest." He shudders with excitement at the feeling of bones breaking under his fist. It's thrilling, it's exciting, it's delightful, it's addictive. But not more than the voice that calls out for him.
"Junhui!" it screams, and he looks up. "I have to tell you something!" Despite himself, he runs to Minghao, caging him in his arms.
"What are you doing here? You can't be here, leave!" Junhui shouts, pleading for Minghao to listen to him. But he should've expected that Minghao would remain stubborn as ever.
"You've pushed me away too many times, Junhui. I don't care if you're in a fight now. I never cared about those anyway. I need you to listen this time, for fuck's sake. I can't do this anymore, okay? This is getting absurd. Hear me out."
"I'll hear you out later! You can't be here, fuck! It's dangerous," Junhui's grip tightens almost painfully, and he's aware of Jeonghan's eyes narrowing into slits.
"I've waited for months."
"Please!" A slash, and Junhui falls unconscious. He thinks he feels blood. He doesn't know whose it is.
"You always get hurt," Minghao chides.
"If it means you'll take care of me, it's worth it," Junhui smiles lazily.
Junhui wakes up groggily. His head hurts, and the Sun's far too bright. The mattress feels familiar, and so does the cat-print sheets, and so does the nightstand, but not the emptiness of the bed.
"Minghao?" he asks, and the door opens. "Finally, what happened? What did you want to talk to me about?"
"He's not here," Jeonghan supplies helpfully, passing Junhui a cup of water. "He told me to pass you this ring when you wake up. Oh, and to read that note on the nightstand too. I think he got sick of waiting, Junhui. It's in Chinese, so it's really from him. I was joking about wanting to kill him, by the way. You're a good couple." Junhui turns to the nightstand with much difficulty, tense expression melting when he sees the familiar paper, familiar handwriting, familiar placement.
"Is it Friday already?" Junhui hums happily. With Jeonghan finally establishing his support of their relationship, he doesn't have to pretend anymore. He unfolds the note, eyes scanning the page as his brain registers the Chinese. His face drops.
“你看到这封信的时候，我应该已经不在你身边了。我要跟你道歉; 我这三、四年来，从来都没有说过 "我爱你" 这三个字。
文俊辉，我爱过你。在樱花下，我说的每一句话都是真心的。樱花能为我作证，但你呢? 我到现在还搞不懂你的心。
我以前一直告诉你，这是我最后一次救你。这次我是认真的。我知道你把我们的戒指弄丢了。拿我的;我不需要了。那条红绳子我一定会收好的，当作我们的约言吧。
谢你了，俊辉，但是我不能留在你身边。若还有下次，就一样在樱花下吧。”
"Is something wrong?" Jeonghan looks at him.
"No, nothing. Did he say anything else?" A shake of Jeonghan's head, and Junhui nods sullenly. "Thank you, Jeonghan." The dorm feels empty without Minghao, even if his closest friends come to visit.
"Why do you like me so much?"
"Because the real you is endearing."
Sometimes, Junhui's mind wanders to Minghao, wherever he is. The ring on his pinkie binds him to his soulmate, and Junhui wonders if he'll ever see his Minghao again.
Folklore claims that soulmates will never be truly separated from each other. Junhui can only hope it's true.
But until then, the mere thought of Minghao is enough to bring a rare smile to his normally cold and stoic face.
For him, it's more than enough.
"I like the cherry blossoms in Beijing. They're very pretty."
"Shall we go together next time, then?"
Junhui moves to Beijing after recuperating. He doesn't know why he chose Beijing, but he misses China. Every year, he takes a trip to Qingdao in May to indulge in the ocean of cherry blossoms. Every year, he's alone under the tree that resembles the one in college seven years ago. Every year, the petals remind him of someone whose face has begun to fade from his mind. Every year, the ring and red string on his fingers serve as a harsh reminder.
Sometimes, he thinks of Minghao. It's been seven years, but he hasn't forgotten about the pianist.
Seasons pass, and Junhui visits the cherry blossoms again. This time, he's not alone, though. An ethereal creature sits cross-legged on a picnic mat decorated with cats as the petals of the blossoms fall like celestial dust from the stars.
Junhui calls out what he thinks the being's name is.
The marble statue looks up and gives Junhui the most dazzling smile he's only seen on one other person before.
A red string flutters in the spring breeze.