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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.

Chapter Text

"Three days isn't normal, Felix," Minho paced at the foot of his bed, hands sliding over each other in a nervous habit. He eyed the open bedroom window, but no little brown-grey body with black stripes languidly made her way through, meowing for food or cuddles. He turned away and crossed his arms, face stuck in a frown, "Three days. What if she got hit by a car? We live in Seoul, 'Lix. Holy shit, our cat is dead. Oh my God. Our cat is dead. She probably got eaten. Our cat is dead."

"Our cat?" Felix teased, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he swung his legs back and forth over the edge of the bed. Minho's face flushed at the insinuation, but he nodded nonetheless, looking directly at the younger boy.

"Our cat," He emphasized, "Is dead."

"Well, hyung, before she was our cat," There was something smug and happy and playful all at once in Felix's voice as he said that, and Minho's skin tingled with it. The boy held his arms out, making childish grabbing motions with his hands until Minho relented and sat on the space next to him, melting into the mattress as he leaned over his knees. Felix's small hand began to rub up and down his back, fingers pressing over the knobs of his spine. They pushed and rubbed with an expertise that Minho always felt had no business belonging to someone with no massage-therapy training, and he moaned a little at the boy continued speaking, "She was a street cat that didn't rely on two useless humans to feed and care for her. Veronica probably just made some friends or wandered further than normal. Cats are pretty good at coming back, you know? Try not to worry so much about her when you literally have a paper that's due tomorrow and you haven't started it."

"How can I possibly start a paper when our cat is dead?" Minho asked, clinging to Felix's shoulder. It was sharp and dug uncomfortably into his chin, but he whined directly into the Australian's ear, who shivered when his breath hit. It sent satisfaction running through him, dulling the pangs of anxiety for a moment. As over exaggerating as he was being, he seriously was terrified. Ever since they'd met Veronica on the fire escape, she had never been gone for more than a night or two. Sure, she'd clearly been living on the streets for some time, perhaps her whole life, but Minho assumed that having two fools to love her unconditionally and let her wander around their apartments whenever she felt like probably made her life a lot easier.

At first, Minho hadn't worried when the tabby failed to come in for food on Monday. Then Tuesday passed and it was like, whatever, he would see her tomorrow. Then Wednesday night had gone by as well and when Minho woke up, neither the food he'd left in his apartment, nor the food left in Felix's, had been touched by anything that seemed remotely like a cat.

So that left Minho to panic, because that was too long. It meant one of two very terrible possibilities- Veronica had ended up hurt or dead somewhere and they would never know, or she had decided she didn't want them anymore and chosen to not return. He wasn't sure which scared him more, but he was definitely scared and there Felix was just smiling like nothing was wrong. He sighed heavily, staring at his stained wooden floors with glassy eyes. Sure, he was probably overreacting. Even still, knowing that didn't make the anxious curls disappear at all. Felix brushed his hands over Minho's hoodie, and shifted his unwilling body so they could face each other on the bed. His face was wrinkled strangely like the bark of an old tree, and Minho wanted to smooth out the worry he saw in the lines. Before he could move, those sensitive eyes he looked into started to mist a little, and he felt himself be pulled into a soft hug, Felix's neck warm against his cheek.

"Hey, Minho hyung, really," The teenager's voice was deep as always, but much more serious than he had been before, "I'm sorry I joked around so much. I just really think Veronica will be okay. You don't have to worry so much, yeah? How about we bake something to take your mind off things?"

As he spoke, Felix laced their small hands together, and his expression looked rather sad and pained. It tugged at Minho's heartstrings, and he gasped a little at the pain of it. Felix was...Really something else. You could simply tell how much he felt, and what is was that he was feeling. Felix was as earnest as anyone Minho had ever met, in all six lives, and he took emotions to a whole different level. It was like he felt them more intimately than other people, more in-tune with himself than any other. He didn't feel anything half-heartedly, it was sort of admirable and amazing and worrisome all at once. Minho shook his head and squeezed their joined hands, looking at them almost curiously.

"You don't have to be sorry, I'm being too sensitive," He whispered, and tried to smile.

"No, hyung," Felix insisted, casually brushing Minho's bangs out of his eyes. His heart definitely skipped a beat at that, and Minho wondered if maybe this was his sixth life's version of falling in love- Taking care of a stray cat with his neighbor on their shared fire escape and holding hands and teaching that neighbor Korean and pretending to not understand much English when the younger spoke it. He thought it was more than enough for him, because his soul felt light and Felix was kinder and softer than he ever could be, sharp angles and all, "You're always allowed to feel the way you feel. Sure, sometimes those feelings are a little unreasonable to others, but it doesn't make it wrong to feel them, you know?"

"You sound like some sort of counselor. I live next to a massage therapist who doubles as a counselor? That doesn't sound too bad," His weak joke far from landed, but Felix laughed anyway, curling into himself as though it was the funniest thing he'd heard. His freckles seemed to glow in the afternoon light, lining his petal-pink lips and especially heavy around his eyes. Sweet, everything about Felix was sweet and fondness filtered through him as he pulled Felix's hands into his lap. They sat in silence for a few moments as Minho chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of how to word his thoughts properly, "I'm...Sorry. For overreacting often. I know I'm probably not the easiest friend to have? But I appreciate you, a lot, 'Lix. I think you mean a lot to me. You always seem to help me out."

"Me, help you?" Felix snorted, "As if. You've always helped me, hyung."

"Oh, come on-" Before Minho could finish speaking, a bright meow caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see Veronica merrily trot her way in through his window. Felix called her name joyfully, and his voice dripped with relief. Minho realized as he watched Felix's lithe body cradle the cat closely to him that the teenager had been just as worried as him. He rubbed her forehead and cuddled his cheek against her surely-cool nose and Minho's heart picked up its pace. His caramel colored hair looked beautiful in the light, and the city scenery outside of his bedroom window seemed much prettier than ever before as the two most important things in his life stood in front of it. Veronica meowed again and climbed onto Felix's shoulder, and his laughter was loud enough to fill the room. Or maybe it was just Minho, but it didn't matter either way.

He was pretty sure his heart didn't belong to him any longer.

Chapter Text

Minho's ankle hurt, and he knew it was his fault. Chan had repeated time and time again that accidents happened, he could learn from his mistake, whatever- It still didn't change the fact that he went and got himself hurt right before their first comeback like a fool. While the other members ran from schedule to schedule, exhausting and working themselves to the bone, he would sit there on their stupid couch eating noodles and "resting." But resting was no more than him scolding and picking apart every aspect of himself, because while the others could say they cared for and wanted him on their team, Minho simply couldn't accept that. His mind wouldn't let him, and he knew he struggled with it more than he should have.

It was hard not to. One look at any of his members could bring back a flood of bad memories if he didn't have himself mentally built up. That was the worst part of remembering his past lives, really- Minho needed to always be on guard, because if he let himself relax for just a moment, he would find himself confusing present and past and making a mess of things. He hated that about himself, and as he sat there he dug his blunt fingernails into the arm of the couch. Minho loved what he was doing, he knew that much. Even if he couldn't call any of them his in a romantic sense, he could call them his teammates, his friends, his family. Minho was a part of something larger as a member of Stray Kids, and the others were a part of that too. They came together to make one unit that would impact countless people, and that was something special. Minho felt warm when he basked in the glow of his eight teammates, when Chan hugged him tightly and when Woojin would talk him through his troubles- When Jisung would entertain his quirky side and when Jeongin would play as happily with him as any of the others.

Minho was happy, truly, but when things like that happened...He couldn't help but slip into those painful thought patterns, that feeling of I am holding them back. It was a dangerous poison.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his oily face as he took a deep breath to combat the growing pressure in his chest, but his muscles tensed at the sound of a thump further in the dorm. His eyebrows drew down as he tried to catalogue who was home with him at the time- 3RACHA is at the studio, Jeonginnie and Jinnie probably on the way back from their schedule, Woojin has vocal lessons, Felix is at the company with his tutor...Seungmin. Concern lingered as heavily as mist on an autumn morning as Minho cleared his throat and called out,

"Seungmin?"

There was no reply, even after waiting for a few moments. He chewed anxiously on the inside of his cheek, but just as he shifted to try and get up despite his bad ankle, the younger came shuffling down the hallway, wrapped in a purple blanket. His face was swollen with sleep, and red lines from his pillow marked up one cheek. Seungmin's eyes were still hazy, but they nervously jumped around the dorm's living room as though looking for a threat. Minho couldn't help but notice the slight shaking in the hands that held the blanket around the small body, and he tried to keep the nerves out of his voice.

"Seungminnie, are you alright?" The teenager's eyes snapped to him, as though they hadn't really registered Minho was in the room before. There was a momentary pause between the two of them before the younger shook his head and stumbled forward, almost like a drunkard. It reminded Minho strangely of the homeless members of the village he and Seungmin had lived in before, the ones that were covered in scabs and that Seungmin insisted on baking bread for at least once a week. They were always sluggish like that, as though hardly clinging onto life, and Minho had pitied them. Even before Seungmin had come into his life, he was apt to giving them a few coins to feed themselves or wash up. He shook his head to get rid of the thought, focusing on the boy in front of him as he slid closer. Minho shifted into more of a sitting position, minding his ankle as he opened his arms up. His bandmate didn't hesitate to collapse into his waiting embrace, clutching to him like a child would their mother though he did seem to be careful of Minho's injury as well. Just like he used to lifetimes ago, he brushed his fingers over whatever soft skin was bared- This time, Seungmin's cheek. His fingertips, calloused from their choreography, smoothed over the mole that was so often covered up.

They shared body heat in silence for a bit, before Seungmin finally spoke.

"I had a nightmare, hyung," He whispered like it was a secret. His toes dug into Minho's thigh as he curled up into his lap more, but he couldn't find it in himself to complain. Seungmin's breath trembled over his neck, and he scratched lightly at the younger's shoulder. Sometimes his memories weren't that clear, after being exposed to so many lifetimes and people, but Minho thought that had been something that soothed him. Or perhaps that had been Chan? An embittered smile tugged at his lips, because he simply couldn't recall, and no flashback was coming to him. But the present matters more, he thought to himself, The Seungmin of today is what matters most, "It didn't start out bad. I don't remember most of it, but it scared me."

"Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes that helps," He offered.

"There isn't a lot to say," Seungmin admitted, and Minho noticed the way his breaths were slowing down. He probably was falling back asleep, and his words slurred more as he continued, "It was warm. Something fuzzy was on my face, and I think I said something to someone? And then it was cold. I was looking for something, and I found it. None of that is clear at all, hyung, it's just like sensations, right? But then someone called my name, which scared me. I felt like I knew the voice, but I couldn't tell where from."

He could tell that to Seungmin the nightmare had little consequence, just a passing scare, but for Minho, his muscles stiffened with each word and he hung onto them, eyes getting wider and wider as the teen spoke. His breath caught in his chest, but the boy was too out of it to notice.

"I turned around and looked into someone's eyes. Like the voice, I knew them, but not where from. I just had the impression...That I should be...Very, very afraid," Seungmin's words broke off with a yawn, and he smacked his lips like a child for a few times before he fell into the embrace of sleep entirely. Blood roared in Minho's ears, deafening him to the world as something familiar played in front of his eyes- Seungmin pulled on his gloves and waved energetically, offering his sunshine-filled smile before kissing a whining Mami's head and leaving the bedroom. He called out as he left the front door, "Stay right there!" Minho had stayed right there, and regretted it for lifetimes afterwards. The same yet oh-so-different boy was asleep in his arms, and his expression crumpled like a writer's first draft. He felt himself whining in the back of his throat, a tone too high for him. It made nothing other than an airy sound but it couldn't keep his hands from clutching onto the sleeping child tighter. Minho felt like he was bare again, stripped down to his first layer and shoved into a light for some higher power of some sort to examine him. Fragile like glass, as easy to topple as an uneven tower, he let his tears drip from long lashes onto Seungmin's blanket.

"I won't let you go this time," Minho whispered his promise, "I won't let you go until you're ready to fly. I'll always be here for you to come back to Seungmin, so please don't disappear this time."

He cradled his dear friend in his arms, staring at the clean floor in front of him. Minho held so many puzzle pieces to the mystery that was his seventh life, that was Seungmin in his seventh life. None of them fit together, he truly doubted they ever would unless Seungmin kept dreaming of what happened that day, and yet...

Minho pressed a dry kiss to dark brown hair and hoped with all that he was that nightmares would never bother Seungmin again.

Chapter Text

Only when Minho could say with utmost certainty that his father had left for his business trip, taking his mother with him for the accompanying formal dinners, did he even begin to dare pack his things. The plan had been made in hurried, conspiratorial whispers and quiet meetings on his way to and from work. As soon as he learned his parents would be leaving for work, Minho knew he had to take advantage of that time the best he could. He still couldn't dare to be with Chan for longer than an hour at a time during the day where anyone could happen upon them- His father would surely be informed in an instant, and he lacked the courage to face the heavy consequences of associating with the "devil-worshipper." They earned more time once Minho gathered the confidence to step over that wooden barrier between them, but for this plan to work, he needed to be on his best behavior.

A grown man, sure, but still living under his wealthy parents' care like anyone in the same position as him. Any time they left town, the folk were instructed to keep an eye on him and to report to his father upon his return. Minho already lived under his father's scrutiny, and as such he needed to model nothing less than perfect behavior for an official's young son so his supervision would be lessened. This meant spending less time at the Bang's farm in the weeks that lead to their departure. Truthfully, he missed the dimples that fit on Chan's cheeks like a chipmunk's burrows and his unnaturally pale curls. Minho couldn't understand why the man's presence caused his chest to feel like it was caving in on itself, nor why it made him so flustered to be smiled at, but they weren't exactly the most unpleasant sensations either. They were nearly addicting, and that was why Minho had devised a plan to spend a night with him.

He wasn't bringing a lot with him- Really. It was only for a night, and since they would be at Chan's farm, he'd promised to take care of most everything. Minho couldn't help but feel guilty, though, to allow him to do such a thing. The older was poor and had to work for everything, whereas Minho was given all he could need and had taken an indoor job, simply, to fill time. It filled him with the same sense of guilt he felt in the moments he was too scared to truly relax in the elder's company. To make up for it, he had promised to bring some food and blankets, because Chan had plans to show him things in the stars.

In reality, Minho hadn't the slightest what that meant, but with laughter that floated in the warm summer air, he'd been reassured yet again that Chan had nothing to do with any sort of supernatural dealings and that was enough for him. Excitement leapt in his heart like a dancer doing her routine as he folded an old blanket from his childhood. It was one he kept stored away, he was sure no one even knew he still had it, but it was just as soft and plush as it had been back then. Perhaps it could use a wash, but certainly Chan's family could find a better use for it than he- The moment the thought struck him, Minho had latched to the idea to give it to Chan as a gift. Hopefully the older wouldn't see it as a sign of pity. Yet, he had the feeling the boy would know better.

It was already late into the night when Minho snuck out of his own home through the back door. He was certain there'd be eyes on the front, and he quickly slipped into the bushes that lined the road. His hands tingled while they held onto the straps of his bag, something they did often when he was nervous. Getting caught sneaking to the Bang's late at night? He couldn't even imagine what punishment would await. But there was a thrill in it, and Minho was nothing if not curious by nature. When he heard nothing but the warm breeze rustling by, he slipped from the bushes to the other side of the road, where he could be hidden by a line of trees. It was true that he likely wouldn't be seen from there, but that also meant he wouldn't be able to see others if they happened to be in the trees as well. It was a risk Minho felt worth taking, but it didn't stop his heart from jumping every time the wind sounded like a whisper or a branch brushed his shoulder a little too human-like.

The relief made his knees weak when Chan met him at the edge, and he nearly tumbled over.

"You alright there, Minho?" He asked, tone rich with amusement and touched with concern. He waved a hand in front of him.

"I'm great, Chan, nothing a little crying couldn't fix," Minho joked, checking his own heartbeat. It was racing harder than expected, "I was so worried someone would see me, I thought the trees could be people."

"Well that sounds rather irrational, wouldn't you say?" Chan took the bag from his arms without giving him a chance to protest as he led the way to his family's property. Minho didn't know any other way there other than the path to work, so he kept as close to the older man as he dared. He could feel their body heat mixing together, and it gave him a strong tug that he was becoming accustomed to when with Chan. It was just as familiar as the feeling of his breath being stolen right from between his lips, and his heart warming beneath his tunic, and stuttering on his words because he was stunned by something as simple as a dirt-dusted face smiling at him. Chan made Minho feel a myriad of things, truly, "Your clothes might get a little dirty, but if you slide under that we'll be on the west side of the farm. I've never taken you there, but that's where Yeonggi is waiting."

"Yeonggi is with us too?" Minho asked excitedly, fearlessly sliding underneath a raised plank of sorts. He was so fond of the fluffy mass of fur, never having been allowed to have an animal of any kind. That was what he found so fascinating at Chan's farm- There were so many creatures he knew by appearance, but had never before met in his life.

"For as long as he wants to be," He hummed, grabbing onto Minho's hand to help him over a dip he nearly missed in the dark. His hand was rough, and callouses scratched against Minho's unblemished, soft skin. He swallowed, staring at their joined hands. It was...Freeing, to be under the night sky with Chan the way they were. To hold his hand and feel how they fit together, to hear his light accent and let the dark of night cover the redness of his cheeks. Even after he assisted Minho, the light-haired man did not loosen his grip and their hands remained tangled up so- Embarrassingly, Minho compared their fingers to the knots of shoe laces. Sometimes pulled apart, but always brought together again. It was a ridiculous thing to think, and he covered his face with a free hand. Chan inspected him curiously, and Minho cleared his throat.

"I brought something for us to use, but I want to gift it to you," He held his hand out for the bag, and Chan handed it to him with a smile that spoke of knowingness. But God, was it humiliating when he heard his own voice shake again! His teeth clenched together tightly, and he tugged the old green blanket out. He laid his bag down and unfolded the fabric, holding it up for the older to see. Minho was shocked to find Chan's eyes shining with marvel, as though he'd never been offered something like that before. He swallowed upon realizing that he probably hadn't. Chan was a boy who worked all day and received one set of clothes from his mother every year. He milked cows and planted seeds, gathered chicken eggs and herded sheep, harnessed livestock and fed animals more than twice a day-He even helped cook and clean around the house. His family was discriminated against and openly hated, and they simply did not have the money for finer things. Being gifted a blanket of that quality, even if aged, from someone outside his family? Minho felt with certainty that it was a new experience for the older.

That filled him with a sense of pride as Yeonggi barked, trotting up to them. His fur brushed against the fabric of Minho's breeches lightly, likely covering them in hairs. He couldn't mind- Up until then, Chan had been the one giving Minho new experiences of all sorts. Now, he'd finally repaid him, just once.

"Minho, I really..."

"You and your family will make better use of it than I and mine will," He assured, pressing it into scarred hands, "My parents don't even know I have it still, so it won't be missed. Please, I want you to have it Chan. I spent my whole childhood with it, so it actually is rather...Important to me."

"It's important to you and you still want me to have it?" Chan asked, and there was emotion he didn't understand woven into it. He nodded nonetheless.

"I may be sentimental, but I'm practical all the same. I won't use it anymore, so I'd be glad if you showed it the same love I did?" Minho did not intend to end his words with a breathy question, yet it had happened when he laid eyes on Chan's smile. His eyes were shadowed, the moon's light shining on his back, but he easily found the brightness in them anyway. Chan's lips were pulled apart and stretched so the top one almost disappeared, and he almost looked fond of something. Minho was shocked by his own boldness when his hand raised to the air between him, paused briefly, and brushed an unruly curl back into the mess of them. Like he knew he could scare him away in a moment, Chan did not move- It was almost as if he stopped breathing entirely, waiting for Minho to decide what to do next. His hand fell unsurely back to his side and he offered his own smile, "Well, you won't reject it, will you?"

"Of course not," Chan reassured, shooing Yeonggi out of the way to lay the blanket on the ground, "I'm very thankful, Minho. If I promise to treasure it, would that make you happy?"

He looked at the twinkling stars above them and thought how much they reminded him of the twinkling feeling inside of him, "Yes, very."

"Then I promise to treasure this as long as I treasure our friendship."

Minho didn't quite understand why friendship seemed to mean something so much more to him when he heard it, but he also did not dislike the complexity of the feeling that draped over his skin and sank to the ground, ready to spend the night finding things in the stars.