if you give me one more chance (i can be enough this time)
he brings his sketchbook this time, one of the many he has because he always buys them in bulk since he goes through them so fast. he’s finished the work he needed to get done today and rather than sitting around in his apartment, alone--a situation minho tries to avoid as much as possible to prevent himself from sinking into the dark place he never wants to return to--he decides to take his sketchbook, a few charcoal sticks, and head over earlier than he knows they’ll arrive.
he also hasn’t had coffee all day, and he knows there’s a cafe built into the store, so he orders an americano, loosens his scarf around his neck slightly, and takes a seat near the edge of the cafe--the table on the outermost part of the dark wood, right before it fades into the supermarket’s white, spotted tiles. the sketchbook he took with him is a new one, he’s only gotten about three pages in and those three pages were all extremely rough drafts of possible covers for his next album. he hasn’t even finished finalizing which songs he wants in it, so he also doesn’t have a clear grasp of the concept yet.
from the time on his phone, he estimates they should be here in less than ten minutes, so he just takes his thinnest piece of charcoal and begins to shade in the cover design he’d last drawn on the third page.
as it turns out, however, he barely finishes coloring in the vague outline he has of a racecar in the design before he hears tiny, faint footsteps running towards him and he looks up from his work just in time to see minhyun crashing into his legs.
it was only by the end of the last, very short time he’d seen them that he’d managed to realize that the skin beneath minhyun’s eyes is puffier than haneul’s, and that haneul has darker freckles over the bridge of his nose. other than that, though, both of them are mirrors of each other and of their father.
minho isn’t their father, after all, and he’s reminded of it when minhyun brightly says, “ahjusshi--” and jabs his small, index finger, mitten swinging at the thread that attaches it to his coat sleeve, at minho’s sketchbook. “drawing?”
“yeah,” minho smiles, and his hands shake slightly, but he swallows, and reaches his arms out slowly, picking minhyun up and drawing the action out as much as he can to see if the toddler will object, but when he doesn’t, minho places him in his lap. “cars. racecars.”
he hears louder footsteps then, and he averts his eyes to the floor, watching as a pair of adult-sized winter boots come into his line of sight, covered in snow, make their way towards the table. minho’s palms grow sweaty around the cold front of minhyun’s coat zipper and his arms tighten right before he forces them to loosen in case he needs to take minhyun off of his lap.
he only looks up when he thinks he’s steeled himself enough--it’s the third time, but after the way taehyun was towards him last time, minho thinks maybe this could be the last time--and even then, it still feels like the first time that minho saw him across the store.
minho barely gets a glimpse of taehyun’s face, however, only glanced that taehyun’s scarf is a different color today and that he’s taken his hat off and put it on the table, when minhyun tugs at minho’s sleeve and says, “we had pajeon.”
bemusedly, he stares at the boy’s face. minhyun’s expression is matter-of-fact as his chubby hand moves from holding minho’s sleeve to patting minho’s hand. when minho understands what minhyun is referring to, his chest tightens and he looks up at taehyun before he can control himself, but taehyun’s face, just like the last two times, is colorless--a perfect poker face. minho swallows and lowers his eyes to haneul’s face instead, the other twin sitting in taehyun’s lap, but leaning forward until half of his body is on the table, propped up on his elbows so he can see what’s on minho’s sketchbook as well.
“it must’ve been really good,” minho says, smiling at haneul too, this time, and haneul smiles back toothily, eyebrows raising at the center and sliding down at the ends. he nods and minhyun makes a sound of agreement as well, hand starting to fish the charcoal out of minho’s fingers. “d’you want to draw?” minho asks, opening the sketchbook to another page. he realizes taehyun might be fuming inside right now--he still has to buy whatever he needs to buy for their meal tonight as well as go home and cook that meal, and minho is here taking up his time.
minho’s eyes dart to taehyun again, trying to convey an apology, but taehyun is resolutely staring at the back of haneul’s head so minho looks away quickly.
“no--you draw,” minhyun says, putting the charcoal he’d grabbed from minho back into minho’s hand. “i want a car.”
haneul slides himself forward so much he’s nearly lying completely on the table before taehyun drags him back slightly so he won’t fall. “me too!”
“what do we say when we’re asking for something?” taehyun speaks suddenly, voice quiet and even, and minho’s fingers curl around the charcoal so tightly he feels it’s edges digging into his palm, blackening his skin. he’s stupid, he thinks--laughing to himself in his mind--just hearing the omega’s voice makes him like this.
“please!” the twins shout at the same time, drawn out and high and excited.
minho picks up the thin stick and quickly outlines the basic shape of a sleek racecar, the sort that he’d originally been planning for his album. he draws the one for minhyun first, and although he has no idea what minhyun is like now--has no idea what kind of children either of the boys have begun to grow up to be, but as far as he remembers, minhyun was slightly louder, laughed more but also cried more. he makes the racecar darker, shading in with the thicker charcoal and smudging it with his fingers, writing minhyun’s name below it like a signature.
then he turns the page and creates the same outline but he doesn’t color the car in, white with the background of the paper, a quieter design, the way he remembers haneul to be, only shading in enough so that there’s gray around the shape for more depth in the drawing, and then he also signs the older twin’s name down below. minho tears both out together and hands the respective drawings to each twin.
“what do you say?” taehyun’s tone is soft but firm.
“thank you!” haneul chimes first, before minhyun echoes him shortly, both sets of eyes glued ecstatically to the sheets of paper.
“of course,” minho smiles, hesitating once again, but slowly bringing his hands up to touch haneul’s cheek and then both of minhyun’s.
a silence follows with minho wondering why taehyun isn’t immediately standing up and taking the kids away from him. minho’s mouth and voice act almost completely before his mind has caught up to them. “any other requests?” he asks, face remaining downturned, but his eyes look up to taehyun carefully.
there’s still no expression on the omega’s face, and minho is about to take back his words with an apology when minhyun suddenly leans back into minho’s chest, face upturned towards him, and says with conviction, “appa likes guitars.”
“does he?” minho leans in and he really wishes he had even half a poker face to use, but when minhyun’s face is so close to his and turned up like that with his eyes wide and insistent, minho can’t help but raise his eyebrows in response playfully until the boy smiles back.
minho doesn’t know why he’s doing this--even if the boys demanded it, he would only have to do a quick sketch to satisfy them, and he probably should anyway considering how much of taehyun’s time he’s already wasted. taehyun will probably throw the drawing away when he gets home anyway, so minho really doesn’t know why he takes so much time and puts in twice as much effort as with the cars. he has a guitar in mind, so it’s slightly easier--one of the ones taehyun used to have, his favorite one. minho wonders if taehyun still has it.
he tears it out carefully when he finishes, and hesitates on whether to slide it across or give it to minhyun. minho settles for simply setting it slightly above his sketchbook, in the middle of the table. he starts to stand and lift minhyun up at the same time, when minhyun starts whining, little fingers suddenly vices around fistfuls of minho’s sleeves.
“you guys have to eat dinner,” minho says, when haneul’s slid off of taehyun’s lap and started making a go for minho’s jeans. he sees taehyun stand up as well, so he finishes putting minhyun on the floor and picks his sketchbook back up, tucks the charcoal into his coat pocket and takes his coffee in his other hand.
“but i want a lion,” minhyun frowns, looking indicatively at minho’s sketchbook.
haneul waves his own drawing in the air. “tree,” he says happily, pointing to minho’s book with his free hand.
“lion, tree,” minho repeats, unable to keep himself from smiling again. “got it. i’ll give you your lion and tree next--next time, okay?” he finishes hesitantly. he bows his head shortly to taehyun and pats each of the boys’ heads before he walks around them and heads for the exit of the store.
haneul and minhyun run into his legs the following week, wrapping their arms around his knees before demanding to be picked up, and once minho does, neither of them want to be put down. haneul even starts climbing up to sit on minho’s shoulder, but minho has his scarf and coat on and there’s just not enough room right now so he settles for holding them.
that isn’t the problem, however, the problem is that taehyun is there, with a shopping cart, clearly waiting for minho to let go of his kids so that taehyun can get on with the rest of the day. minho looks at taehyun’s face, trying to implore with his eyes for taehyun to just manually take them away from minho because even when minho tries to put them down, their legs are strong-holded around his waist.
taehyun’s expression is still carefully blank, but there’s something in his eyes that minho doesn’t know how to place, as the omega says lightly and evenly, “just hold them while i shop.”
“ahjusshi--follow appa,” haneul says cheerily, pointing at the back of taehyun’s head as the omega pushes the cart into the produce section.
minho dumbly does--he follows taehyun throughout the store while the twins inanely gurgle at each other in what can only be their own strange, toddler language, occasionally switching to broken adult-korean to let minho know about how cabbages were green baby heads and that, yes, those are the lemon gummies appa never lets them have.
minhyun stays upright in minho’s arms, but haneul eventually rests his cheek against minho’s scarf, almost as a pillow, and starts sucking his thumb. minho watches silently as taehyun scrolls through his phone every so often, checking his grocery list, minho assumes, before placing ingredient after ingredient into the cart.
the process goes like this, wordless unless haneul comes out of his sleepy stupor to comment on something they pass and minhyun pats minho’s cheek to tell him about how the crabs in the tank are fighting, until they reach the condiments aisle.
taehyun has just passed the section of sesame oils, and minho is about to pass it as well when taehyun suddenly stops, and turns around, blinking at the shelves near him and then glancing back to minho. “hyung, can you grab that one for me?” he asks quietly. “the yellow bottle--” he points.
minho is completely certain he’s gone numb, and that’s the only way he successfully reaches down for the yellow bottle of sesame oil and hands it over to the omega.
“thanks,” taehyun says, taking it and placing it into the car before walking on.
minho continues on as well, walking behind him, and wonders if he’ll ever see taehyun smile at him ever again--it’s all he can think about for the rest of the time that he’s there in the store, and it’s all he thinks about during the drive home.
he wonders, when he reaches his apartment and opens his first beer of the night--dinner, he calls it--if he’ll ever hear taehyun say more words to him than just those to form a request to fetch a bottle from a shelf. he thinks about it, and thinks about all the possibilities he has under his belt--none of which sound at all promising.
he thinks about whether maybe if he tells taehyun that he’ll pay for everything of the boys, that he’ll pay for everything taehyun has ever bought for the boys--that he’ll pay for anything taehyun wants and taehyun never has to work at whatever job he currently has now--he wonders if he offers to buy taehyun a new apartment wherever taehyun wants in seoul, if he pays for the boys’ schooling when they start--he wonders if any of that will let taehyun at least look at minho again.
by the time minho finishes thinking about it all, it’s three in the morning, a pack of beer, and half a bottle of vodka later.
he sleeps on the carpet of his living room because his bed is too wide and too cold for him to even approach.
when he gets sick, seungyoon rolls his eyes, joohyung and jiho say, i told you so, and jihoon and hyuntae tell him that he can’t release his next album if he’s dead--or maybe he can, and then die, and then the royalties can be left to them. minho’s manager sighs and books an appointment for an iv drip and, if minho wasn’t leaking out of his nose and his eyes and could barely hear anything that wasn’t shouted, he would possibly be more ashamed of the fact that the hospital secretaries on-call for appointments are on first name basis with his manager at this point.
the appointment is in two days, and until then, minho is told to stay out of the studio and in his apartment, “taking it easy”, whatever the hell that means, because it’s what they tell minho every time he gets sick (every two weeks), but it never seems to work in alleviating symptoms or preventing the illness from worsening.
fortunately, minho is a grown man well over the legal age that makes him an adult in his country, and so there are actual laws, somehow, on whether his manager can have people babysitting him against his will. this means that two days before his appointment on sunday, minho straps a mask over his mouth, wraps himself up in enough layers that in case he sees anyone he knows on the streets they won’t start trying to chase him back into his apartment, and heads out for the grocery store.
he’s running late because he’d had to stuff his pockets with tissues before he left and also taken enough painkillers that he’d be able to breathe and hear, and also wouldn’t be coughing and sneezing to the point that there would be no conceivable way that taehyun would let the kids within a three meter radius of him.
when he arrives, he already hears their voices somewhere near the dairy and he jogs lightly over at a pace that doesn’t make his congested head spin. they see him before he can locate them properly, running to his pants as always and demanding to be picked up. minho hesitates, before firmly shaking his head and trying to smile at them with his eyes as apologetically as he can, since it’s the only part of his face they’ll be seeing today.
he does kneel down however, making sure to hold them both at arms length to stop them from getting too close to him. “i’m sick,” he says through the mask. “i can’t hold you guys today.”
taehyun walks towards them then, no cart, just a basket hanging from his hand, and only a bag of frozen fishcake and a new tub of soybean paste sitting inside of it. taehyun himself is in his usual black coat, the gray hood of a sweatshirt sticking out from the back with a cap on, holding all of his hair back. minho glances up, ready by now for the usual blankness, but for the first time, he’s met with an expression.
not the smile he’d dreamed for a miracle for, though.
concern instead is etched deep into the furrow of taehyun’s brows and worry lines the set of taehyun’s mouth.
minho has to hold himself back from staring to make sure he really sees what he thinks he sees on taehyun’s face. maybe he’s wrong. there’s a greater possibility that he’s wrong, and that taehyun’s concern and worry is for the fact that his young children are too close to minho’s germs--a thin mask only a semblance of protection.
“are you okay?” taehyun asks, tone soft, putting the basket on the floor, and kneeling opposite minho, tugging haneul and minhyun away by their hoods. when they scowl and making to start back towards minho, taehyun’s voice is stern, as he says, “ahjusshi is very sick and very tired, let’s let him rest today, all right?”
minho straightens up, because it’s clear that taehyun doesn’t want him in any sort of proximity with the boys while he’s in this state. “i’m fine,” he offers hesitantly, “but--you’re right--i shouldn’t be near them today. sorry.”
taehyun looks up at minho, concern remaining but the worry giving way to some other emotion minho can’t decipher. the omega glances down and lets go of the twins’ hoods. “boys, hug ahjusshi and tell him to feel better.” taehyun nudges them forward with the tips of his fingers on the backs of their heads.
they hug either of minho’s legs with cheery choruses of ahjusshi get better really really really fast, and he leans down only enough to pat their backs and then their heads because he doesn’t want to get his nose or mouth or breaths anywhere near them if possible. taehyun’s expression doesn’t seem worried at all when the twins continue to hold onto minho’s legs like koalas to their resident respective trees.
“i could make you something,” taehyun says then, and minho looks up at him so fast, his neck possibly cricked. the worry is back on the omega’s face.
“it’s okay,” minho shakes his head and smiles as best as he can while facing taehyun so close--laughable, because they aren’t close at all, but it’s the closest he’s been to the omega in years and minho feels like he’s falling apart. “i’ve got an iv appointment this sunday.”
taehyun’s expression goes from worried to flatly incredulous--it almost makes minho laugh a little. “i could--”
“i’ll be okay, really,” minho detaches haneul first and then minhyun, touching their cheeks with the back of his fingers as they continue to scowl up at him, almost exactly matching their father’s face currently. “it happens all the time--especially during album production.”
there’s a strange look in taehyun’s eyes now, and minho doesn’t think he can handle this when he can barely breathe as it is--when his head is pounding and his throat is on fire. he bows his head slightly and attempts a last half-smile, before stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning to make his way out of the store.
(the night before his appointment, the frontdesk of minho’s apartment rings up to him to tell him that there’s been something left for him. he finishes blowing his nose, throws a sweatshirt on and a mask, and takes the elevator down to the lobby.
the woman manning the concierge desk on the evening shift pushes a plastic picnic-sized box towards him and through the clear case, minho can see there are plastic containers of what looks like soup and side dishes. there’s also a note inside, but minho takes the box back to his apartment first before opening it.
he sits at his kitchen table and unfolds the small piece of paper.
taehyun’s handwriting, painfully as familiar as ever even though it’s been three years since he’s last seen it.
i got your address from seungyoon-hyung, hope you don’t mind too much.
i’d wish you good luck on your album, but you’ve never needed it.
from the moment the boys began to demand that minho comes home with them, to when that gives them the idea that he should eat with them, to the moment that taehyun agrees and says to minho, quietly, “if you still remember, my old place--” before breaking off, and heading with the cart and the boys to their car--from that first moment until now, with minho parking his car into the driveway of the same apartment that had become his second home three years ago, minho is numb.
minho doesn’t know what he was expecting--it never occurred to him that taehyun might’ve had no other choice but to stay in the apartment he’d lived in when they were still trainees. it isn’t all too small of an apartment, honestly, it’s actually larger than the studio apartment minho and seungyoon had each had when they were trainees--the bedroom, living room, and kitchen sort of morphed into one large room with a small bathroom adjacent. taehyun’s often became the place that both of them dropped by at since it had a separate living room, bedroom, kitchen, and a bathroom with an actual tub and shower.
it isn’t quite the proper size or quality for two, loud, and energetic twin boys should be raised either, but it isn’t all that shabby or small of an apartment. as trainees, minho and seungyoon had both been fairly jealous that taehyun’s part-time jobs combined with the money his mother could give him were enough to get an apartment of this size--combined also with the allowance the company gave them for living expenses since taehyun wasn’t from seoul.
for a brief moment, while minho is untying his boots and taking off his hat and scarf and coat and gloves, a tiny flower of hope and triumph blooms in his chest before it’s quickly squashed down by the remembrance that this is taehyun.
if taehyun had rather raise two children on his own than have any help from someone he didn’t deem worthy of being a father, if taehyun--when they were trainees--would rather take away his beats and melodies completely and earn no money from the few offers the company gave a small amount of selected trainees every month to have their name on a song than have his work re-arranged--then the offer of a larger apartment wouldn’t hold the slightest temptation for taehyun.
in all truthfulness, if it did hold even the slightest temptation to the omega, minho wouldn’t still be in love with him three years later anyway.
minho plays with haneul and minhyun while taehyun cooks, and it tears at minho’s heart but at the same time, it puts it back together. it’s just that, currently, it’s being torn apart faster than it can be put back together. sometimes, in lulls when haneul is staring at something outside of the window even though they’re on the twelfth floor or when minhyun sucks his thumb while standing in the middle of the living room, minho will find himself gazing at taehyun’s back.
“d’you need me to do anything?” minho calls out when the twins have worn themselves out and are lying across minho’s lap, probably limp and quiet only because they’re hungry.
“i’m good,” taehyun replies--the response that minho had more or less expected. minho’s help would only slow taehyun down--in the kitchen, in raising the kids. he doesn’t blame him--after the anger of what taehyun had said to him the night he forced minho out had faded, minho realizes that while the words themselves weren’t true, the sentiment behind them was.
minho wasn’t good enough.
he wasn’t good enough for the kids, and he wasn’t good enough for taehyun. he had absolutely nothing to give them, and even in the first few months, it was already proven that he was shit at child-rearing. he couldn’t give them anything of monetary value, and he couldn’t give them anything by way of his presence and intuition.
even if he was still shit at being a father, he could at least provide for them. he wouldn’t ask to be able to be at taehyun’s side, nor would he demand that he be the father the children call as theirs. even if it only meant dinners on one friday every month, in exchange for the money minho would spend on alcohol on nights he wanted to forget, he would do it in a heartbeat.
he doesn’t realize it, but between haneul wanting minho to lie down on the couch so haneul and minhyun could use him as a bench to watch pororo on taehyun’s phone and both of the twins going uncharacteristically even quieter as they’re both absorbed into the show, minho falls asleep. he isn’t sure how long he sleeps for, but it must be at least a few hours because when he wakes up, there’s no warm weight on his stomach.
when he looks around, he realizes the twins aren’t anywhere in the living room or kitchen or the space reserved for their small, matching beds. taehyun is suddenly in front of him, startling minho, and he must have visibly jerked because taehyun takes a step back before perching precariously on the edge of the couch’s arm. “they’re in my room sleeping,” taehyun says--even after three years the omega seems to be able to still easily read everything from minho’s face. “you--you looked really, really tired. album prep--right? so--i thought--you’d see them next week again anyway--so--i thought i’d just let you sleep. i can reheat your dinner now, if you’re ready to eat.”
taehyun still looks so young for someone who’s taken on the responsibilities normally expected of people ten years older than him. in his half-awake daze, minho finds himself looking from freckle to freckle on the omega’s face, the brush of his lashes every time he blinks, the shadows beneath his eyes, the mess of his dark hair over his forehead and brows, the high bones of his cheeks, the pink of his lips.
he pushes away the persistent hope that always blooms in his chest nowadays whenever taehyun extends a gesture that minho’s stupid heart continues to misconstrue as more than simple kindness--perhaps taehyun still acknowledges that minho is the biological alpha of his children, even if hell will freeze over before taehyun lets him become the father by presence and meaning. “yeah,” minho says, sitting up, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his fingers. “thanks. i’ll eat now.”
minho stands up, and when he reaches the table, he realizes there’s two sets of chopsticks out and two glasses of water. “you haven’t eaten yet either?” minho asks, as taehyun moves two bowls of kalguksu onto the table, along with a small bowl of kimchi.
taehyun sits down, glancing at minho’s face briefly as the alpha takes a seat opposite. “i fed the kids first and washed them up--got them ready for bed and all that--” he picks up his chopsticks and starts stirring around in his bowl. “and--i figured, you wouldn’t want to eat alone.”
the omega begins to eat without anymore prelude after that, and minho follows suit immediately, only because he doesn’t even think he can thank taehyun without choking on his words. he knows that the food is good because taehyun’s food always is, but he can’t even taste it right now because it’s all he can do to keep his eyes dry and to remind himself that taehyun has always been kind to those who he thought worthy of his kindness.
this doesn’t mean anything--it just means that, perhaps, minho is worthy of taehyun’s time and compassion once again--maybe in the past three years, minho has become closer to sufficient, at the very least.
they eat mostly in silence, because they always had--before--as well, but every so often, taehyun stops to inquire about minho’s work, and minho stops to inquire about--everything--the kids, where they are when taehyun works, where does taehyun work now, when does he pick the kids up again, what do the kids like to do. it gets to a point that when they’re both finishing their food, minho takes a sip of water, and says, “sorry--if--if i’m asking too many questions.”
taehyun blinks, eyebrows furrowed for a moment, before his lips curve upwards into a small smile. “i like answering them. don’t be sorry.”
minho wishes it was within his power to keep his smile to a size that matches taehyun’s, but it spreads all over his face before he can catch it--a broad, open-mouthed smile, and he looks down hastily in the only attempt he can make to reel it in.
“nah--i know it’s annoying,” minho says, grinning lightly, “i’d be annoyed--”
“are you calling me a liar--” taehyun counters, teasingly.
“i’ll ask my last one,” minho smiles, but he feels it falter slightly now, “what’re their favorite animals? i--if it was okay--i just--wanted to get them something. it’ll be small--just--just something.”
since i haven’t given them anything since they were born
taehyun reaches across to take minho’s bowl and stack it over his own, as well as minho’s chopsticks. he stands with the dirty dishes in one hand and the bowl of leftover kimchi in his other. “haneul likes elephants, and minhyun likes tigers,” taehyun says, as he puts the bowls in the sink and sets the kimchi on the counter.
“okay,” minho says. “thank you.”
there’s another silence that falls over them while taehyun is washing dishes, and minho decides that he’s probably overstayed his welcome. it isn’t late for him, but for someone who has to work a full-time job and prepare breakfast and packed lunches for two kids, it’s probably extremely late.
he quietly heads for the entryway and begins to put on his coat, and all of the other winterwear necessary not to freeze to death in seoul’s subzero weather these days. taehyun seems to hear, because the sink suddenly shuts off and minho hears the fridge open and close before taehyun is shuffling to where minho is kneeling, tying up his boots.
when the alpha glances up, taehyun is holding another clear, plastic picnic box in his hands. the omega hands it to minho when he stands up. “i heard from seungyoon-hyung that you’re pretty bad at keeping yourself fed when you’re working on an album,” taehyun says, hesitant and almost shy. “so--yeah. don’t get sick again. or hungry.”
“beer and canned espresso aren’t food?” minho jokes.
taehyun doesn’t smile at that--rather, there’s a heaviness in his eyes that makes minho swallow and look down. “no, hyung,” the omega’s voice is soft and almost pained. “they’re not. eat, okay? it should be good for half a month. if--if you need more--just--tell me. i have the same number--if you’ve d--deleted it, seungyoon-hy--”
“i haven’t deleted it,” comes out of minho’s mouth too fast for it not to be embarrassing. he swallows again and looks quickly at taehyun’s face and then away again. “thanks, taehyun-ah,” he says, turning before taehyun can say anything else that’ll threaten to break minho down when he’s tried so hard to keep himself restrained and held in this entire evening and night.
minho doesn’t let himself cry until he’s in his car.
(when he gets home, he opens the bottom drawer of his nightstand and digs through until the very bottom. he pulls out the oldest sketchbook he still has, and turns to the page that’s sticking out of the other pages because it was clipped in there.
he traces the lines where this page--this drawing--was torn into shreds, tiny little pieces, the same night that the same was done to minho’s heart. he traces the tape that was used to put it all back together, shoddily, but enough that the original drawing can clearly be seen.
minho thinks about the containers of ready-to-heat food in his fridge now, and lets himself hope--even the faintest glimmer is enough, but he also knows that he can’t just let that hope sit around. if there’s anything he learned in the past three years, it’s not to be afraid, and not to be afraid to claw himself to where he needs to be even when his nails are ripped from his bleeding fingers--even if he has to be cursed at again and beaten and trodden on.
haneul and minhyun are worth it, and taehyun is worth it.
minho’s blood means nothing to him if it means he can be with them again.
if he can be with taehyun again.)
