kaira

KASA gives them a week. Mingyu gives him twenty four hours. Jeonghan stares up at the screen, counting the stars. They’ve already lost three, and that’s just from his quadrant in the sky. “What do you think it’ll be like?" “What, the end of the world?”

Mingyu shivers, his breath shallow when he nods. “You know?” Seungcheol tilts his head to meet his eyes. “I told you I was a fan, didn’t I?” Mingyu’s hand slides up from his knee, cupping the side of Seungcheol’s cheek as he carefully tucks his hair behind his ear. Seungcheol falls into blue too, letting his eyes flutter shut as he tilts his face into Mingyu’s hand. “Pretty,” slips out of Mingyu’s lips.

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The words come out so easily again and the worst part is that he doesn’t even want to stop. If Soleum only knew what he’d put him through, maybe he would understand. “I’m saying don't go looking for a place to die when you can't even do anything.” Saheon is a runaway train and the tracks are laid down past the edge of the world. Soleum is the one laying the tracks, perhaps. As long as he is there, Saheon will keep racing forward through time.

“You wouldn’t leave without telling me though, would you?” He forces himself to speak lightly, to tease. Mingyu’s hands are too gentle when they hold his, but he can’t bring himself to let go either. Mingyu gives him an unreadable look. “I don’t know, would you?”

“Before or after you fucked me?” “Vulgar,” Jeonghan grits out, biting just under his jaw. “Kiss me with that mouth, do you?” Mingyu tugs his head up with a hand clutching his hair tightly, his smile smug when Jeonghan groans breathlessly. “Don’t like it?”

“Mingyu-ah.” His voice shakes. He clears his throat three times, holding tight until he finds some steadiness. “I tried.” Mingyu waits, his hands—warm and gentle, ever so tender—now running up and down his spine. He exhales shakily. “I really tried.” He still fails.

“Jeonghan-ah—” He grabs it before it can fall shut. Jeonghan’s eyes widen, and then they close. Seungcheol can’t let go of the door. “Cheollie.” It sounds too much like: I’m sorry.

Seungcheol stands at the top of the stairs, round eyes wide as he stares at him. There’s an unsealed box of cigarettes in one hand, and a fresh cigarette in the other. “Oh, Mingyu—” Mingyu plucks it from his hand and tosses it into the small bin in the corner. Tosses the box into the bin too. Seungcheol just watches him with wide eyes, but he does nothing to stop him either. “Don’t.” Seungcheol’s half-smile is twisted. “That’s company life, Mingyu-ah.”