Chapter Text
The sound of the door shutting reverberates through the room. Minghao thinks they hear it everywhere. It crawls up their skin, winding through their lungs, dropping their stomach. They hold the sound in their hands and it burns.
They wait. The door doesn't open again.
Minghao doesn't know how to talk to anyone.
They've never been very good at it to begin with, but the remnants of a person that Minghao had strung together fell apart when the door closed. They aren't sure what to do with any of the pieces left over. They've never been very good at any of it.
It means that they don't speak to anyone for six days. They sit on their couch and they don't do any of their commissions and they try to think about where to go from here, but their brain tends to skip over where they are now, scratches on a record. He always said that Minghao was useless when they got sad and then he closed the door and Minghao is useless again.
They dragged themself to the shower on the fourth day and now, on the sixth, it needs to happen again. Getting off the couch seems impossible until it isn't.
Steam chokes them and they stumble back to the couch. They sit there, damp and dripping, until someone knocks on the door. The door isn't meant to open again, not without him, but it's Seokmin's key turning the lock. Minghao would know. Their boyfriend gave his key back when he walked out, and only Seokmin's key is left.
"Minghao," Seokmin says when he comes into the living room, his tone gentle. "I heard, honey."
Minghao is still dripping. Water runs down their back, trailing from the ends of their hair. It's too long now, but he always liked it longer.
"Hi," Minghao whispers, their voice breaking on it. Of course.
Seokmin's face falls and he sits on the couch next to Minghao, putting his hand out for them to take. They don't. Seokmin doesn't seem hurt, but Minghao still feels like they need to explain: they don't know how to touch without ruining. They don't know how to be gentle. They don't know how to be just enough without being too much, how to touch softly and carefully, how not to burn. They don't take Seokmin's hand and they don't explain.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Seokmin asks softly.
"How'd you find out?" Minghao asks instead of answering.
"I ran into him while I was out and I asked why I hadn't heard from you," Seokmin says with a grimace that tells Minghao that the answer given wasn't anything Minghao wants to know about.
"Oh."
"Let's go dry your hair," Seokmin murmurs after a moment. "You'll catch a cold."
Minghao wants to point out that it's an old wives tale, that they'd catch a cold from having wet hair, but they don't have enough in them to do it. They trail behind Seokmin on the way to the bathroom and they sit on the counter when Seokmin pats it. Seokmin runs soft hands through Minghao's hair while he blow dries it and this is probably fine. Maybe Minghao can be touched without breaking. It's just the other way around that's the problem. It's just Minghao that's the problem.
"Your hair is too long," Seokmin tuts. "It's falling in your eyes."
"It's better longer."
"Who said?"
Minghao shrugs. Seokmin sighs. They hold eye contact until Seokmin moves, rifling in the drawers until he finds a pair of hair cutting scissors. He holds them out to Minghao.
"Chop away," Seokmin says with a small smile. "I know you want to."
Minghao turns their head just enough to look in the mirror so they can grab a chunk of hair and shear it off. It comes off in a tuft, cut too close to their head to do anything but push on. Shoulder length hair falls to the bathroom floor until it's closer cropped, until Minghao can see their eyes again. They snip the last bits and it's choppy. Minghao should fix it. Seokmin should fix it.
He smiles instead. "Nice. Good choice."
"It looks bad," Minghao says as they stare at themself in the mirror.
"I think you look cute," Seokmin laughs. "We should show you off to everyone, parade you around town."
"Maybe I need a hair stylist."
"I think you need some tea and maybe some hair gel, but I think you're really fine." Seokmin smiles again and offers Minghao his hand to help them off the counter. His smile falters when Minghao jumps down on their own, but he pastes it back on and Minghao pretends they didn't see it flicker. It's best for everyone if they don't talk about it. "Come on."
Minghao follows Seokmin to the kitchen, where he moves around like he pays rent, spilling water on the floor as he goes. Minghao cleans up after him with a rag, catching water and a pile of tea leaves. Seokmin has hand tremors and he's embarrassed about them. Minghao isn't going to do anything but clean up after him, isn't going to say anything. They'd never.
They sit down with their tea when Seokmin hands them a mug. It isn't very good. Minghao doesn't say anything about that either.
"I did a bad job, didn't I?" Seokmin asks when he sits and takes a drink, wrinkling his nose up.
"Maybe," Minghao says, waving their hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'll drink it."
"You're too good to me," Seokmin laughs.
"Maybe," Minghao says with half of a smile. It's more than they've had in them since the door closed. Seokmin seems to know that and he grins.
"I have this new café I wanted to show you," Seokmin says. "They make great soup. They also make better tea than this. Want to go?"
"I can't go out with this haircut."
"You're so cute though," Seokmin teases. "Come on, come get lunch with me. I know you haven't been eating enough."
Minghao doesn't say anything. Guilty as charged. It isn't their fault that they haven't had an appetite though.
Seokmin is still looking at them pleadingly. They nod. "Okay. We'll get soup."
"Let's get you dressed first," Seokmin says softly. "And let's dump this tea down the drain. It's genuinely so bad."
Minghao can't really laugh, but they can smile, just a bit. It'll do.
They let Seokmin pick out their outfit for them, something better than their ex-boyfriend's old hoodie and basketball shorts. They don't even know where the basketball shorts came from. They've never played basketball before.
It's probably fine. Seokmin is handing them different clothes and Minghao changes into the soft t-shirt and jeans without complaint. It's a little masculine, the boxy shape of the clothes on the curves of their body. Matches the short hair, as choppy as it is. Minghao doesn't know how they feel about that. They don't know how they feel about anything right now, in fairness. It all floats in and out, the recognition of their thoughts, their feelings, their awareness of their body. Their curves are smoothed over in this outfit. It floats in and out.
"Okay, I think we can go," Minghao says quietly. Seokmin nods, a smile on his face, and he sets his hand on Minghao's shoulder to guide them out of their apartment.
Minghao is buckled into Seokmin's passenger seat with nowhere to go but the place with the soup. It means Seokmin knows he has them cornered.
"You don't have to talk about it," Seokmin starts, and Minghao tenses, "but it might help. To acknowledge it, at least."
"I've acknowledged it plenty," Minghao says. They mean to sound firmer, but they just sound tired. Exhaustion weighs their bones down, softens the bite of their words. It's for the best. Seokmin doesn't deserve the things that Minghao wants to say to end this conversation. They sigh. "I just mean that I'm well-aware of what happened."
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Seokmin asks.
No. Absolutely not.
"No." Seokmin flinches. "Sorry."
Minghao does a lot of apologizing these days. Might as well add Seokmin to the list.
"That's fine," Seokmin says softly. They both know he's lying. They're going to get soup anyway. "Just— Eventually, okay? Please?"
"Eventually," Minghao relents. They relent. They give up, just a little. Not enough to not get soup, but enough to say, "I'm sad. I think I'm really sad."
Seokmin frowns as he stares at the road. Minghao watches his face twitch like he's holding something back. "I know, honey. I thought you might be. It's okay to be sad about this though. It's more than fair."
"We were together for eight years," Minghao says softly. They stare at the road now too. It's a group activity. "That's so many years."
"It is."
What Minghao doesn't say is that they don't know how much love lived in them in the last few years. They don't say that there were things that he did, that he said, that left Minghao a little lost at sea, a little at a loss and looking for the kind of love they had for him at the beginning. That doesn't match how sad Minghao is.
"It hurts," Minghao whispers.
Seokmin sighs as he pulls into a parking spot. "I know, honey. Let's go eat soup about it."
Minghao nods and they drag themself out of the passenger seat to follow Seokmin inside the little café. It's quiet inside, only two tables occupied and a lone man behind the counter. The man smiles when Seokmin gestures for Minghao to order first, even though Minghao hasn't even had a moment to look at the menu. They're panicking for all of a moment before the man in front of them says, "first time?"
"Yeah," Minghao says, choking it out. It comes out normal enough. That's a success.
"Coffee or food?" the man asks with a smile. "I'm fond of the soup."
"I told you!" Seokmin says behind Minghao. Minghao drags up a smile from the depths of their chest that matches the man's.
"You pick," Minghao says to the man softly. "You seem like you know."
"Soup of the day it is," the man says while he punches it into the register. "It's good. And a lemonade?"
"Yeah, okay," Minghao says. There's a ghost of a smile on their face at how excited this man is.
"Can I get a name for the order?"
"Minghao."
"Pretty name," the man says with a bright smile as Minghao hands him their card. While he runs it, Minghao takes a moment to observe him: tall, almost lanky, with a nametag that reads "Junhui" with a little "he/him" and a trans flag underneath his name. He's pretty too—a little too pretty for a dimly lit café. Minghao wonders how he got here. They don't ask.
"Thanks," they say instead. "Yours is pretty too."
Junhui blushes as he hands Minghao's card back. How endearing. "Thank you. I'll have this out for you in a few minutes."
Minghao gives him a half-smile before they step out of the way to let Seokmin order—"the soup," he says, with the brightest grin on his face—and before Seokmin can get out his wallet, Minghao hands their card back to Junhui.
"Minghao—"
"Ah, I got it," Minghao says. "For coming to save me or something."
Seokmin laughs, clearly surprised by it. "For coming to save you. Sure thing, Minghao. Happy to."
Junhui smiles at both of them and hands Minghao's card back after running it. "I'll call things out when they're ready."
"Thank you," Minghao says softly. Junhui smiles at them and Minghao is suddenly so aware of their haircut. They're so aware of it. They set a hand on Seokmin's elbow to drag him to a table, too caught up in his self-image to worry about staining Seokmin with the blood on his hands. He'll worry about that later. "I can't believe you let me out of the house with this haircut."
"You look cute, Minghao," Seokmin laughs quietly as they sit. "You're just nervous because the barista is pretty. If you're really concerned about it, I'll clean it up for you when we get you home."
Minghao pointedly doesn't mention that Seokmin's hands shaking might make the haircut worse, because it's really nice of Seokmin to offer and Minghao thinks that it honestly can't get much worse to begin with.
"Yeah, okay," Minghao huffs. "I guess that works."
"Perfect," Seokmin says with his signature smile. It's enough to make Minghao let out a breath. "Now, tell me about how work is going? How are the kids?"
Minghao musters up a smile. "They're good. I've taken the last few days off, gotten a substitute teacher, but I'm told that they're behaving as well as elementary students can around scissors and paint."
"Safety scissors, I assume."
"And washable paint. The parents would have my head on a pike if they couldn't get blue paint out of their kid's clothes."
"Almost certainly," Seokmin laughs. "Glad it's going well for the substitute. When will you go back?"
This is where Minghao hesitates. "I don't know."
"Minghao…"
"I know," Minghao sighs. "I just feel— Wrong. I don't know how I'm supposed to have their eyes on me when I feel like my skin's on wrong."
"That's fair," Seokmin says after a moment. Minghao can tell he wants to ask: what did he say to you? What did he do to you?
He doesn't ask. Minghao lets out a breath when Seokmin says, "well, I'm sure they miss you. Teacher Xu is their favorite, right?"
Minghao smiles. "Apparently. I just let them get messy."
"That may be it too," Seokmin laughs. "Kids do love that."
Junhui calls out Minghao's name and Minghao tells Seokmin they'll get everything, going over to grab a tray and stack the soups and drinks on it. Junhui smiles at them when they do.
"Have fun," he says quietly.
"With the soup?" Minghao asks with a startled little laugh. "I'll try."
Junhui laughs. "Sure, with the soup. Let me know if you hate it and I'll dump it on myself or something."
Minghao smiles, a real thing. It surprises him. Junhui is surprising him. "Well, we can't have that. Thanks, Junhui."
Junhui gives a little wave as Minghao picks up the tray and Minghao nods at him before they take the tray back to their table. When they set it down and settle back into their chair, they notice Seokmin grinning at them almost maniacally.
"Yes?" Minghao asks, amused. "Can I help you?"
"You laughed," Seokmin says through his smile. "I'm just excited. I owe the barista my life."
"His name is Junhui."
"I owe Junhui my life then," Seokmin says. "Now eat your soup. You look gaunt."
That's certainly a word for how Minghao looks, but they can't say they disagree. The ten seconds they spent looking in the mirror before their shower startled them in more ways than one. The ten seconds they spent looking in the mirror after cutting their hair only made it more obvious once they couldn't hide behind shaggy hair falling in their face. Their cheekbones were far too prominent.
"Eating," Minghao says with a nod.
The soup is good. Thank God—Junhui is too nice to have soup dumped on him, and something in Minghao tells them that he really would dump soup on himself if Minghao didn't like it, just to get a laugh. Minghao can't have that. Junhui already made them laugh anyway. It's much more than they could have asked for from this café.
Seokmin talks about his job while they eat, talks about Mingyu and their dog, and Minghao aches a little, but they don't say anything to stop him. Minghao just thought they had that kind of security. Turns out they didn't. Turns out they never really did in the first place, if what Seonghun said was any kind of indicator. Security was never theirs to hold.
It hurts, momentarily, to think Seonghun's name. It hurts more than they'd like it to.
"You okay?" Seokmin asks, getting Minghao's attention. "You faded out for a second there."
"Yeah, I'm alright," Minghao says after a moment. "Sorry. Just got distracted."
"That's okay," Seokmin says softly. "I was saying that Mingyu said hello."
"Hello to him," Minghao says, and they try to keep the wryness out of their voice. It isn't Mingyu's or Seokmin's fault that Minghao burns everyone they meet. It isn't their fault that Minghao can never keep anything for long. Maybe they're meant to be transient. Maybe they're meant to feel like this.
Seokmin's face falls and Minghao rushes to save it, but they're interrupted by Junhui coming over to the table.
"Hi," he says warily. "I'm interrupting something."
"No, you're not," Minghao says, right as Seokmin says "a little bit." Junhui cringes. "You're not. It's fine, really."
"It's fine," Seokmin echoes with a small smile.
"I just wanted to know if you were done with your dishes," Junhui says, his cheeks bright red. "I'm not very good at reading the room though. Sorry."
Minghao laughs softly. "You're doing just fine. We're done, I think, but you don't have to take—"
"It's kind of my job, don't worry about it," Junhui laughs. "Just trying to start on closing."
"Oh, we'll get out of your hair then," Minghao says quickly. "Sorry to be in your way."
Junhui smiles. "You're fine. Hope you enjoyed enough to come back?"
"Yeah, I think so," Minghao says with their own small smile. "We'll have to check out the other soups, y'know."
"They are all good," Junhui says with a sage nod. "I'm glad to hear it."
He starts to gather the dishes and Minghao knocks their foot into Seokmin's to tell him to get up. Minghao helps Junhui gather everything onto the tray before they stand to go.
"Thanks," Junhui says softly. "See you around, Minghao."
"See you around," Minghao says back, just as soft. They give Junhui the barest smile before they follow Seokmin to his car.
"Feeling a little better?" Seokmin asks when they're in the car, the music down low. Seokmin is listening to Mitski again. Minghao wonders how he is. They don't ask. They can't get into that right now, as frayed at the edges as they are.
"Sure," Minghao says after a moment. They aren't quite lying. "A little bit."
"Good," Seokmin says with a smile. "Now, let's go clean up your hair."
Minghao tries to smile back.
The next time Seokmin asks Minghao to get soup, a week later, Minghao's haircut is arguably worse than ever. They let Seokmin go at them with scissors and haven't bothered to fix it. One of their fifth graders commented on it. Minghao can't bring themself to care. They have bigger things to worry about, like their ex-boyfriend moving his stuff out of the apartment while Minghao was at work, like how Minghao had to leave their key under the mat to let him in at all because he'd already given his back. Minghao has bigger things to worry about than the state of their hair.
Junhui is behind the counter when Minghao and Seokmin walk in and his face lights up in a smile when he sees them.
"Hello again," he says when they walk up to the register.
"Hi, Junhui," Minghao says with a small smile. "How are you?"
"I'm pretty swell, especially now," Junhui laughs. "And how are you, Minghao?"
"Been better, been worse," Minghao says with a shrug.
"Not as good as swell," Junhui teases, "but hopefully soup will help with that. I'm assuming that's why you're here?"
Minghao nods. "You got it. And a lemonade?"
"For your friend too?" Junhui asks as he punches the order in.
"Yes, please," Seokmin says politely. He seems to be hanging back for some reason that Minghao can't place. "Thank you."
Junhui smiles at Seokmin before he turns back to Minghao and tells them the total. Minghao pays before Seokmin can and Junhui laughs at Seokmin's noise of protest.
"Let him be nice," Junhui laughs.
"Them," Seokmin corrects. Minghao notes with interest that that exchange went the opposite direction than it normally does—Minghao never gets called "him." They don't know what to do with that, if they're being honest.
Junhui doesn't falter. "Let them be nice. They're trying to treat you. I'll have this out in a few minutes."
"Thanks, Junhui," Minghao says softly. Junhui smiles and turns to start their order and Seokmin gestures for Minghao to follow him to the table by the window again.
They settle and Seokmin leans forward, his elbows on the table. "He likes you. He thinks you're pretty and your haircut looks nice."
Minghao laughs quietly. "You don't know any of that. Besides, my haircut objectively doesn't look nice."
"So you think," Seokmin says, waving his hand dismissively. "Obviously, he thinks otherwise."
"He's never said anything remotely close to that."
"Oh, but it's all over his face."
Minghao hums. "You're delusional."
"Usually," Seokmin laughs, "but I'm right often enough and I'm totally right about this. He's so into you."
"Doesn't really matter, does it?" Minghao asks after a moment. "Aren't I in mourning?"
Seokmin hums, clearly thinking about it. "You could be. You don't have to be. I know you— Yeah. Lately."
Minghao sighs, long and heavy, and they're stopped from talking about lately by Junhui calling their name. They go up to get their food and Junhui smiles when he sees them.
"I like your shirt, by the way," Junhui says softly. "Looks nice on you."
"Thanks," Minghao nearly whispers. They clear their throat a bit. "Thanks, Junhui."
"Nobody ever really remembers my name," Junhui says with the smallest smile on his face.
"How could I not?" Minghao finds themself asking. It sounds like they're flirting. They can't tell if they are or not. They can't tell if they should be or not. They think about what Seokmin said as Junhui's smile brightens and their cheeks are hot.
"Cute," Junhui laughs. "Go eat before this gets cold."
"Yes, sir," Minghao jokes. It draws another laugh out of Junhui. Minghao takes the tray back to their table and Seokmin is watching Minghao carefully. "What?"
"You looked happy, that's all," Seokmin says after a moment, taking his soup from the tray. "Maybe he could be a friend, at the very least."
"Maybe he could be a friend," Minghao echoes. "Eat your soup."
They eat their soup. By the time they're done, they've made it through Seokmin talking with his hands and Minghao humming in reply and gotten all the way to Junhui appearing next to their table to clear their dishes. Minghao helps gather things onto the tray and Junhui smiles at them gratefully.
"You're my nicest customer," Junhui laughs softly.
"I'll take it," Minghao says, just as soft. They smile at Junhui and they can feel Seokmin watching them, but they're trying not to care. "Thank you, Junhui."
"You're very welcome, Minghao." There's something about the way Minghao's name rolls off of Junhui's tongue. Minghao feels their cheeks start to go warm again and they look away quickly. Junhui laughs. "Have a good rest of your day. Come back soon."
"They will," Seokmin interrupts before Minghao can respond. Minghao resists the urge to roll their eyes.
Minghao gives Junhui one last smile before he walks away and they get up to go, Seokmin trailing after them.
"We're not talking about it," Minghao mutters when they're outside of the café. "But come with me to get my hair cut?"
Seokmin laughs. "Always."
The kids aren't making fun of Minghao's haircut anymore, so Minghao can comfortably go back to the café. They go alone this time, conscious that the way Seokmin watches them gives them away. They don't know exactly what it gives away, but it's enough to want to go back alone.
Junhui is behind the counter when Minghao walks into the empty café. "Minghao! Save me from my boredom."
"Can you say that?" Minghao asks with a small laugh. "Hi, Junhui."
"You got a haircut," Junhui observes as Minghao gets to the counter. "It looks good on you."
Minghao runs a hand through their close-cropped hair. "It's shorter than I wanted, I think, but Seokmin and I both kind of sawed at it and I didn't have a choice. It was at my shoulders a few weeks ago."
"I like it," Junhui says with a small shrug. "It's more masculine, but not in a bad way. Maybe I like it because we kind of have the same haircut right now though."
"It looks better on you."
Junhui's cheeks go a little red. "I don't think so, but thank you. Can I get you your normal? And I can come sit with you if you want since it's empty. You can say no."
"I'd like that," Minghao says softly. "And yeah. Soup and a lemonade. You got me hooked."
Junhui laughs, bright and beaming. "Just doing my job, but I'll take it. Go find a table, I'll bring it to you in a second."
"I have to pay—"
Junhui shakes his head. "I've got it. Go sit."
Minghao smiles and hides it behind their hand. They find a table in the sun and it doesn't take long before Junhui slides a tray in front of them and sits down in the empty chair.
"So, tell me everything about you," Junhui says with a teasing smile. "You already basically know everything about me."
Minghao laughs quietly. "Do I?"
"I work here and I'm desperately in love with you," Junhui jokes. "Well, you may not have known that second part."
"I did not," Minghao giggles. "Well, I'm 27, I'm an elementary school art teacher, and I'm a big soup fan."
"And you're desperately in love with me?"
"Something like that."
"I'll take it," Junhui laughs. He has such a pretty laugh. Minghao doesn't know what to do in their own skin. It's a common problem of theirs. "And you're nonbinary, right?"
"Sure," Minghao says carefully.
Junhui cocks his head to the side. "Sure? It feels like a solid yes or no question."
"I am," Minghao sighs, before they admit it softly. "I'm not used to that being okay."
Junhui hums, clearly thinking about that. "I get that. I'm trans, so I get it. It's okay with me though. I'm also happy to kill anyone who isn't okay with it. They can die by my sword."
It bubbles a laugh out of Minghao. "Do you have a sword?"
"It's metaphorical."
"I believe you," Minghao says, covering their wide smile with their hand. "He's gone anyway. Isn't coming back."
Junhui looks at Minghao for a moment. "You know, I had a boyfriend when I came out. Told me in no uncertain terms that he wasn't gay, but he offered to stay with me as long as I didn't transition too much. His words. He's gone too. Sometimes it's okay when they don't come back."
"Did you kill him?" Minghao asks. They're kind of avoiding how seen they feel. They're kind of avoiding the thought that what happened to them is all over their face. "With your metaphorical sword?"
"I did," Junhui laughs. "He's dead now. Don't worry about him. I don't date cis people now."
Minghao didn't really know that was an option. "Everyone I know is cis."
"Well, not anymore," Junhui says with a kind smile. "You know me, and if it's not too forward, I'm kind of throwing a party this weekend with my very trans friends. You should come. You can bring your friend if you want, even if he's depressingly cis. He would make a beautiful woman."
"I keep telling him that."
Junhui grins. "See? You've got the spirit. Is that a yes?"
Is it? Is Minghao really going to go to a party for this boy they've barely met?
"Yeah," Minghao says with a small smile. "Sounds fun."
"Perfect!" Junhui says, all too excited. "Hold on, put your number in my phone. I'll text you all the details."
"You have to be very clear on dress code," Minghao warns as they enter their number into Junhui's phone. "I'm not good at things like that."
"You seem like you would have such strong fashion opinions."
"I used to, when I was a girl."
Junhui hums. "And weren't we all a girl at one point or another?"
The philosophical way he says it startles a laugh out of Minghao. "I mean, with the two of us, definitely."
"We'll get you back to your opinions, but I'll help you pick out what to wear this time around," Junhui teases as the bell over the front door chimes. "I should go. Are you done?"
Minghao nods, stacking things on the tray for Junhui to take.
"Perfect," Junhui says with a small smile. "I'll text you. Bye, Minghao!"
"Bye, Junhui," Minghao says softly. They watch Junhui go back behind the counter before they get up to leave.
Junhui texts Minghao later that night, right after Minghao's ex has left their apartment with the last box of things he'd forgotten. Minghao can't even cry about it. They just want it to be over.
It isn't really the ideal time to get a text from a boy that makes Minghao's stomach churn in a way they haven't felt in years. It's happening anyway.
Unknown Number: hi hi hi! it's junhui
Minghao pulls themself together, back from the brink of— Something. Back enough to text Junhui.
Minghao: hi junhui :)
Junhui: heyyyy oh my god you'll never believe what happened after you left
Junhui: lana del rey came in
Minghao: like of 2012's seminal album "born to die" fame?
Junhui: that's the one. she got the soup
Minghao: oh my god….. i ate the lana soup
Junhui: more like she ate the minghao soup. you were there first
Minghao: that's what i like to hear
Junhui: anyway, on a much more exciting note, let's discuss what you're wearing on saturday at 8 pm sharp
Minghao takes a deep breath and lets Junhui all but plan their outfit. They only have so much in them.