Chapter Text
"I got the job!" Minho burst through the front door of their apartment, and Woojin looked up from the lyric sheets he had spread out over their old kitchen table. He had marked them up with pencil and pen, making notes to himself about this and that, the nuances of how he wanted to sing the song- But as soon as Minho came in, he stood with a honeyed smile and opened his arms wide. He threw himself into them, breathing in the scent of baked goods and lemon-noted cologne as he buried his face into the older's neck. Woojin was what made it all possible, after all- Getting him clean, sobering him up, giving him a place to call home and even paying for the medication he sorely needed. Woojin hyung was a gift, and he let himself melt into the embrace of his lifelong friend. The love of his life. Chan's name floated through his head and he wondered if the other would be proud of him. Minho thought, maybe, he would be.
"I'm so proud of you," Woojin whispered into his hair, holding him close. They pressed as near to each other as they could, feeling only their clothes and skin. It was an embrace like the tangling of knotted trees, beautiful and intimate and present. Right, Woojin was proud of him. Minho knew that, and he scolded himself for being stuck in the past again. Some of the happiness of the moment dampened, but then Woojin pulled back and showed his gorgeous teeth in a curled smile, "My inspiration."
"Oh, hush," Minho giggled, and he hit Woojin's chest lightly. It didn't stop the words from dizzying his head pleasantly. He thought nothing could be better than being called that. The way Woojin hyung's soft eyes would sharpen like a shard of glass and sparkle just the same way, how his voice would lower just a bit and he spoke the two words with just the hint of a whisper towards the end, like Minho was something beautiful he was showing off to amaze the masses- It just felt special, intimate, something between the two of them. He leaned forward on his toes, eyes never leaving the older's because they were too stunning to do so, "It's just a job, and it probably isn't that hard."
"Don't downplay your own achievements, Minho. You've climbed all the way from the bottom to get here, and that shows just how persevering you are. Life will hit you but you don't stay down. And a dance teacher? It shows you're talented too," He brushed his fingers through Minho's thick hair, and he sighed in pleasure at the feeling. It relieved tension in his body as Woojin dug his fingers into little circles, and the corners of his lips quirked, "Besides, you think teaching little kids will be easy? Good thing you have the patience of a saint."
"I don't think I've ever heard you lie more," But his face flushed with the praises, their weight surprisingly light on his ever-heavy back. No matter how much Woojin hyung chased away most of the nightmares, no matter how much help be received and how much he grew, Minho could never escape it all. His knowledge was a heavy burden, his past life something painful and pretty all at the same time, and Minho never knew quite what to do with it. But whereas Woojin's words could have added to that weight, they instead felt precious and tucked themselves into a corner of Minho's heart. His eyelids shut as he tried to smile in that moment, yet he felt his eyes sting as though they had been hit with a salty sea breeze. The tears that ran down his cheeks like dew drops were not sad, but touched, and Minho didn't even need to communicate that with Woojin. The other simply moved his hands from Minho's hair to cover the wet tear tracks and pressed the heels of his palms, pushing the younger's lips out to pout.
"How can you be so beautiful when you cry?"
And then he tilted his head and fit their lips gently against each other. Minho grasped the long sleeves on Woojin's shirt, feeling his senses come to life in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. His breath was stolen from him in an instant, but Woojin moved his lips against his parted ones softly, like the beats of butterfly wings as they fluttered through the temperate air in springtime. He felt the pressure of his own fingers as he held onto the other's shirt, trying to memorize the moment of their first kiss. That bruised, decayed heart seemed to beat again with vitality inside of his chest. Woojin left his lips with a little smooch sound that drew a shaky laugh from Minho, but their faces stayed in that place for a few moments, breathing. The moment was sweet, and he looked at Woojin hyung's lips before trailing his gaze over his nose and to his eyes. His eyes were met with nothing but an affection he'd come to know well, even if accepting it wasn't always the easiest.
That was the thing with his hyung. He gave every part of himself and waited for Minho to share in return, and was patient with it. He left himself an open book for Minho to scribble in, even if his scribbles were sometimes darkened with memories of blood and fear. Their breaths lingered in each other's space for a moment longer until he threw his arms around Woojin again, and thank you broke free from him.
"Thank you, hyung, thank you," Because Minho had never been so thankful for a person in his whole life. No matter how much his mind wanted to tie in why he was thankful- For taking care of me, for loving me even at my worst, for being a friend and something more, for breathing, for living, for being- And no matter how much he wanted to express I love you in there too, nothing else came forth but he could hardly mind because he was in the present for at least just that moment. He was there with Woojin's bakery scent and large, comforting hands, and body that he was able to snuggle into perfectly. The apartment floor was uneven beneath their feet, and one of his hyung's arms wrapped around his lower back while the other pressed their upper bodies together. Lips spoke words his buzzing ears failed to hear, but Minho could take a pretty good guess.
Love, sharp like a pain, hit him when he realized he finally knew what Woojin's lips felt like against his, and he grinned. He clicked his tongue and pulled from the embrace, looking Woojin hyung's crinkled face over. His skin was tan, a little oily from sitting in the warm apartment, a pimple rested here and there and his bangs were held back by a clip he'd once picked up from under their couch though neither had any idea how it had gotten there. Minho couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have fallen in love with, though it had happened so many years ago he could hardly remember.
"We should celebrate. It's not just any day someone as special as you gets a job," Woojin said, "We could drink wine."
Minho made a face, "Hyung, I can't drink anymore, you know that."
"Hm, I'll just drink enough for the both of us then?" Woojin hyung teased, and he stuck his lip out in a pout.
"That's not fair at all," He mumbled, turning around to walk towards the fridge, but Woojin hooked his chin over his shoulder and kissed his sharp cheekbone as softly as a dusting of shimmer powder.
"Then let me take you out to dinner. A proper date. We haven't done that together yet, have we?"
Minho stood there for a moment, and tilted his head even as another tear dripped from his eye to their checkered floor tiles, "I've never been on a date before."
"Then it's high time I fix that," Woojin hugged him from behind tighter, and made good on his promise.