Chapter Text
The delivery was late. Again.
Chan stared at the email notification on his phone, the light from his screen forcing him to blink a few more times until the sleep left his system. His latest book shipment was supposed to arrive yesterday, but now, it was delayed until further notice.
Not surprising.
He exhaled slowly and rubbed his face before tossing his phone onto his bedside table. The room was dim, but he could already hear people on the street outside and the sounds of cars in the distance. His windows were covered with dark blue blackout curtains from floor to ceiling, making it almost impossible for daylight to come in.
He turned his head slightly to the right and saw “8:39” blinking on his clock. He groaned. His alarm was not set to ring until 9. He could’ve blamed the email notification for waking him up early, but he knows his habit of waking up before his alarm rang has been ingrained in him long before he started living alone.
With a sigh, he swung his legs over the bed, stretching out the stiffness in his shoulders before padding toward the kitchen. His movements were automatic - coffee first, everything else could wait.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
He turned on the coffee machine, letting the sound of dripping liquid fill the space. He was staring off into space when he suddenly jolted out of his reverie and glared at the innocent machine.
Why was he making coffee? He stopped drinking them more than a year ago. He also never liked drinking them, too. He only started drinking them because of-
He stops his thought and covered his face with both his hands before releasing a heavy sigh. After a couple of seconds, he turned off the machine and made himself a cup of tea, instead.
By the time he was done making his cup of tea, the notification on his phone remained unanswered. He picked it up, reading the message again even though he already knew what it said.
“Your delivery has been delayed. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
He should be annoyed. But instead, he just sighed, taking a slow sip of his tea.
It was another morning.
Another slow, predictable day.
And another thing to quietly pretend didn’t bother him.
When Chan opened the door to his bookstore, there were not a lot of people on the streets - most of them were probably at work or school. It was also starting to get hot now that summer was around the corner. He turned on the lights and the air conditioner, automatically. He also pulled up the window blinds and turned on the music, using the same old playlist. It’s almost become a habit at this point.
Like any other normal day, Chan got to dusting off the shelves, sweeping the floor and doing some of the freelance copywriting jobs he has in the morning. He’d order food for lunch and in the afternoon, he’s got nothing much left to do, so he goes on to rearrange bookshelves, wipe down the counter that’s already clean and even fix the “New Arrivals” table for the third time today.
If he’s not doing anything, he’d end up staring into space with an open book on his lap.
One of his regular customers even comments, “You always look like you’re waiting for something.”
Chan felt his chest squeeze for a bit hearing this, but he only forces a small smile and changes the subject.
He has always dreamed of opening and running a bookstore since he was young. He loved reading and getting lost in the different worlds contained in every book. There was a bookstore he frequently visited in his childhood. It was a small, cramped space with shelves stuck close to each other with just enough space for a person to squeeze himself in. The floors were also almost full of stacks of books. But it was the most magical place for the young Chan. And he was always open about this dream of his.
Now that he has his own bookstore, he feels like it doesn’t feel as magical as he used to dream of. But he rationalizes with himself that maybe it is just how it is - childhood dreams are just overly romanticized.
It just feels… like a routine.
Then the sound of the bells hanging over the door chimed, pulling Chan out of his thoughts. He greeted the customer even before he saw who came in.
A man and a woman enter the bookstore. The man had his arms hooked at the back of the woman’s waist protectively. They both returned the greetings to Chan, who was sporting his default customer smile. They were looking for a book on wedding planning.
They both looked no more than 25 years old but their ring fingers were already occupied by similar rings. Chan smiled and told them to follow him. He led them to the shelf where he placed the wedding-related books, and then left after they thanked him.
Chan could still see them from where he sat at the counter, and he could see the way they held hands, how they laughed and whispered to each other like they’re the only people in the world. He’s had rowdy customers once in a while, but he finds this quiet couple more annoying.
When the couple came back to him, they brought a couple of books, and as he was ringing them up, they complimented how cozy and organized the bookstore was.
Chan prided himself in this, but before he could feel good about it, the man left a lighthearted comment, “You must have a romantic heart to run a bookstore like this.”
Chan freezes for a moment. Then he smiles politely, without saying a word and watches them walk out of his store giddy and in a happy mood.
He couldn’t say a word to them. Because, deep down, he’s stopped believing in romance.
Romance belongs in books, not in his life.
Chan was closing down the store after the storm came crashing down out of nowhere. He knew that at times like this, there were no customers who'd come in, and the storm just makes his store feel even emptier than usual. Not to mention, the coffee he had delivered earlier spilled on his sleeve. Fortunately, it wasn’t scalding hot anymore and there were no books around him when it happened.
Safe to say, Chan was already irritated.
Just as he was finishing with the closing, he got a notification fom the delivery company, telling him that his book shipping was already delivered.
But he hasn’t received anything today?
His packages are usually delivered directly in his store, but there was no one who came in today to drop any packages. Then he remembered that the building where his bookstore was in has a package drop off area inside the main building. He decided to check it out in case it was dropped off there. But just looking at the storm outside right now was draining all the energy out of him.
Even though his bookstore was located at the ground floor of the building, the entrance of his store was separate from the main entrance of the building. It means he has to walk to the other side of the building. In a storm. And the building only has a narrow roofing on its sides to protect the people using the walkway around the building.
With a sigh, Chan finally decided to brave the storm and walk inside the building to check on his packages. His sleeve was already soaked in coffee, so a storm wouldn’t really change the fact that he was already irritated.
By the time he was already at the entrance of the main building, half of his body was already soaked. He tried to brush off the excess water on his body before he finally entered the building. He asked the person at the front desk where the packages were dropped off. Fortunately, the person at the desk was a regular at his store, so there was no need for him to provide proof before he was given access to an area designated for the building tenants only.
As soon as he opened the door to the drop off area, he saw a stack of familiar boxes - it was the new book delivery from his usual source. Chan felt relieved that they really were there. He was about to head towards the boxes when he saw a smug-looking guy standing near the boxes.
Chan frowned.
Why was he just standing there? And why is he holding one of my packages?
He definitely doesn’t look like a delivery guy.
And right before Chan could say anything else, the other man ripped one of the boxes, pulled out a book and started flipping through like he owned the place. What’s even more mortifying is the fact that the book he was carelessly handling was an old, first-edition book of a rare series he has always been wanting to have.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Chan stormed inside, half-shouting in horror.
The other man looked up at him and froze for a bit, but Chan did not care. He walked straight up to him and stared at the book in the other man’s hands.
“What are you doing right now?!” Chan wasn’t screaming, but he was seething, almost threatening.
This amused the other man. With an eyebrow raised at Chan, he replied, “Reading.”
Chan’s eye twitched.
“Those are my books.”
The other person blinked his large eyes at Chan and then at the stack of boxes beside him. “These were delivered to me though?” The other man tilted his head towards the name on the locker. Chan followed his direction and it read: “Penthouse, Lee Minho”.
Penthouse? Then Chan realized this person was the owner of this building - his landlord.
“Who are you again? I did not get your name because you just suddenly barged in here and accused me of stealing your books.” This Lee Minho person smirked at him, and Chan felt embarrassed.
“I’m the one running the bookstore outside.” Chan couldn’t give his name, but his landlord grinned at him.
“Ahhh…are you perhaps Bang Chan-ssi?”
Chan flinched. How does he know his name? Chan gave him a suspicious look and his landlord just gave him a shrug.
“I am the owner of this building. I should at least know my tenants’ names, right?”
He looked so smug while talking like he just stated the obvious.
“And maybe because your name is on these boxes?”
When Chan heard that, his eyes immediately turned towards the boxes he originally thought were his. He moved closer and read the shipping details. His eyes widened in disbelief. Those really were his packages! But before he could even get a word out, Minho beat him to it.
“Before you call me a thief again, it’s not my fault they were in my locker.”
“Then, don’t you know how to read? My name is clearly written there.”
Minho shrugged again. “I don’t remember everything I ordered.”
Chan can’t believe how shameless this person was. Is it because he was rich? Do all rich people act like this? This person was testing all of his patience right now. He wanted to throw something at him, but he tried to calm himself.
With one deep sigh, Chan asked for the book Minho was still holding.
Minho stared at Chan’s hand and moved the book away from Chan, his face grinning at him, teasingly.
Chan stepped forward and tried to grab the book but Minho dodged it easily, like he was expecting it.
“Wow. Aggressive. You always this friendly?”
Chan stepped forward again, seething. “Give. It. Back.”
That’s when disaster struck. Minho was still chuckling mid-breath when Chan lunged forward, trying to snatch the book from his hands. He dodged, and Chan’s fingers caught air. His foot caught absolutely nothing.
And then, the world around him blurred.
His shoe slid against the slick floor. He lost his balance and lurched forward uncontrollably. And, as if in slow motion, he realized - he was falling.
Unfortunately, so was Minho.
A mess of limbs and momentum, they both crashed down. Hard. Onto the cold tiled floor.
For a while, Chan could only hear his own breathing. Then realization hit him.
He wasn’t just on the floor.
He was sprawled on top of his landlord, their legs tangled, and his hands braced against his chest.
Their faces - barely an inch from each other.
Minho was staring at him, wide-eyed. His lips slightly parted.
Chan’s thoughts stopped.
Minho wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t smirking.
For a split second.
Just a single, fleeting moment…he looked at Chan differently.
It wasn’t like annoyance. It wasn’t also like a joke.
It was something else. Something unreadable.
Something Chan wasn’t able to put words on it.
And that terrified him.
The thought alone lit his nerves on fire, and suddenly, his instincts kicked in.
His body lurched back before he could think, stumbling to put space between them.
But Minho recovered faster.
The smirk returned. The amusement sparked back in his eyes.
“So…do I get a discount now?”
Chan gawked at him.
Whatever just happened between them. Whatever that tiny, frozen second was, Minho had shattered it instantly.
Chan scowled, ignoring the heat still thrumming under his skin.
"I hate you."
Minho was chuckling as he pulled himself up off the floor. “Love at first sight. Knew it.”
Chan wanted to throw a punch at him, but he was still his landlord, so he decided against that. He ignored Minho and picked up the old book Minho was holding before. Fortunately, it wasn’t damaged more than it already was.
“I’ll be taking my stuff now, so excuse me. You can get lost now, too, if you’re not here to pick up your package.”
Chan’s words may be a bit rude but it did nothing to Minho. Minho stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders, as if shaking off the fall.
“Well I guess, I’ll be seeing you around, Bang Chan-ssi.” Minho grinned as he left.
Chan gritted his teeth and regretted every decision that led him to this exact moment.
One good thing though is that the rain has already let up once he was out of the building. It will take him a few trips to move his packages, but he doesn’t want to have another encounter with that rich mad man, so he has to finish moving them as soon as he can. All while mentally swearing to block this man from ever stepping foot inside his bookstore.
Unfortunately for him, he would fail at it spectacularly.
Chapter 2
Notes:
I may have been to excited that i posted this as soon as i finished writing it lmao there may have been a few typos here and there, but I'm sure it's still readable lol anyway enjoy!
Chapter Text
It was a slow morning for Chan today, but he also likes it that way.
He was dry. He wasn’t sprawled on top of a smug rich boy. And, most importantly, there was no fresh humiliation to add to the ever growing list of things he has already locked away deep in his mental box labeled Never Think About Again.
For once, he’s glad his morning had been uneventful. The bookstore was quiet. Just the way he liked it. The air was cool and filled with the quiet rustle of pages.
It was supposed to be a good day. No chaos. No unwanted encounters. And no insufferable rich boys.
“I’m glad I’m never gonna see that guy again.” He mumbled to himself in relief.
But the universe laughs at his face.
It was just after lunch when the bell above the door jingles. Chan barely glances up from his laptop, expecting either a regular customer or a lost tourist. Those are the most frequent visitors he’s had recently, after all.
He was about to greet the person when he saw a man standing across him, looking way too comfortable in his store.
It was Lee Minho.
The Lee Minho, who should not be here.
The Lee Minho, who does not belong here.
The Lee Minho, who is now strolling in like the store is his favorite morning cafe.
Chan wants to curse at the universe, especially when he sees that stupid grin on Lee Minho’s face as he was walking towards him.
Chan stared at him, unamused. “No.”
Minho, completely unaffected, strutted towards him and leaned over the counter like he belonged there. He exuded the same infuriating air of effortless confidence. He was dressed more casually today with his crisp, short-sleeved button-down and well-fitted linen trousers. But the familiar, knowing smirk remained unchanged.
“Good morning to you, too.” Minho was staring straight into his eyes, his large eyes shimmering with curiosity and mischief. All that intense emotion focused solely on him.
Chan gripped the pen he was holding harder.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was flat. Void of any hint of hospitality.
“Browsing.” Minho replied, straightening his back. He wanders further inside with his hands in his pockets, glancing at the shelves like he’s here to browse. Much like any other paying customer.
But Chan knows he isn’t here just as a customer. He crosses his arms, scowling. “What are you really doing here?”
Minho continues to browse along the shelves as he answered him casually, “Buying a book.”
“Liar.”
Minho chuckles, unapologetic. He then turns towards Chan, his lips still tugged upwards with a smirk. “Okay, fine. I just felt like stopping by.”
Chan dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply in frustration. He stood up from his seat behind the counter and walked closer to Minho. “I don’t know what your deal is, but you’re really not the type who belongs here.”
Minho raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “And what type of people belong here, exactly?”
Chan huffed, arms tightening across his chest. “People who actually read, for one.”
Minho let out a low laugh, stepping closer. “You wound me, Channie. I do read.”
Chan shivered and felt goosebumps crawl up on his back when he heard his landlord call him with a nickname. Then he watches Minho pluck a random book from the shelf, flipping through it without even looking at the title.
“See?”
Chan rolled his eyes. “That’s upside down.”
Minho glanced at the book, then grinned as he turned it the right way up. “Minor detail.”
Chan could already feel the headache forming. “So, can you tell me now why you’re really here?”
Minho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head, studying Chan with an unreadable expression. For the first time, the teasing glint in his eyes softened into something more thoughtful. “Maybe I was just curious,” he said, voice quieter now.
Chan swallowed, caught off guard by the shift in tone. He wasn’t sure if he liked it more or less than the usual smugness. “Curious about what?”
Minho’s smirk returned, though there was something different about it now. Something less sharp. “You.”
Chan’s fingers curled into his arms where they were crossed. “That’s not an answer.”
Minho only hummed in response. He leaned his back onto the shelf behind him, watching Chan with clear amusement. “Huh. I thought bookstores were open to everyone.”
Chan exhaled sharply. “Not to you.”
Minho tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Wow. Harsh.” His eyes gleamed with something dangerously close to delight. “What if I told you I actually want to buy something?”
Chan did not believe him for a second. He raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed. “Then prove it. Pick a book. Pay for it. Leave.”
Minho’s grin widened like a cat who had just found a particularly interesting toy. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
Chan wanted to scream.
Minho casually walked towards the counter and leaned into it, all while Chan was following him with a glare. He tapped his fingers against the counter, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright. Fine. I’ll buy a book.”
Chan narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to believe that?”
Minho held up the book he’d randomly grabbed earlier, flipping it around to read the title for the first time. His smirk faltered for half a second before he let out a bark of laughter.
“The Comprehensive Guide to Raising Emotional Support Chickens”
Chan blinked. Then blinked again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Minho, still grinning, placed the book on the counter with a decisive pat. “This one.”
Chan stared at him. “You don’t even have chickens.”
Minho shrugged. “Maybe I’ll get some after this.”
Chan pressed a hand over his face. “You’re impossible.”
Minho leaned forward, voice dropping like he’s about to spill out a conspiracy. “Or maybe I just like watching you get all worked up.”
Chan groaned, snatching the book and scanning it in the machine, with a little more force than necessary. “That’ll be 20,000 won.”
Minho handed over his card without hesitation, eyes twinkling with victory. He took the bagged book, slinging it over his shoulder like some grand prize. “Pleasure doing business with you, Channie.”
Chan refused to give him a response.
The door chimed as Minho strolled out, but not before casting one last glance over his shoulder. That infuriating smirk still in place. “See you around.”
Chan slumped against the counter the second he was gone. He let out a deep sigh, staring at the register like it personally offended him.
He had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time Minho walked through those doors.
And that might’ve been the most frustrating part of all.
By the third time Minho walks in the store, Chan doesn’t even bother looking up from his laptop to know who it was.
Every customer who walks into the bookstore triggers the soft chime of the bell above the door, a sound that fades into the usual quiet noises of pages being flipped, murmurs and footsteps.
But Minho never enters quietly.
His arrival is always marked by something distinct, something him. The door swings open with just a little too much force - the hinges creaking under the unnecessary enthusiasm. His footsteps aren’t hesitant like other customers. No careful browsing, or quiet shuffling. Just the confident, unhurried stride of someone who already knows he’s not welcome there but refuses to care.
And, of course, there’s also that exhale. The low, amused huff of breath, barely a laugh - ike he already finds something funny before even saying a word.
Chan doesn’t have to look up anymore. He just knows.
“You lost?” he asks flatly.
Minho ignores him, running a finger along the book spines. “Relax. I’m not here to mess with you. I need a gift.”
Chan finally glances at him, skeptical. Yesterday, he came to the store to “do some research.” Apparently, he needed to know more about chickens after reading the book he bought. Chan knew he just made that up on the spot.
“For who?” Chan still asks.
Minho tilts his head. “What? You gonna judge my friends?”
Chan crosses his arms. “No, I’m judging you because I don’t believe for a second you’re actually buying something.”
Minho sighs dramatically. “Fine. I’ll prove you wrong. Recommend something.”
Chan hesitated for a bit but, eventually, suggests a few titles. Minho listens, nodding like he’s taking it seriously. Then, just as Chan starts to believe him…
“Actually, I don’t need a gift. Just wanted to see what kind of books you’d pick.”
Chan glares.
Minho grins.
And just like that, Minho’s gone again - leaving after buying all eight books Chan recommended.
Another day…
The bell chimes, and this time, Minho walks in dripping wet. His clothes cling to him, his hair darkened from the rain, and little puddles from where he stands.
Chan takes one look at him and sighs. “You don’t even have an umbrella?”
Minho runs a hand through his soaked hair, flicking droplets onto the floor. “Yeah because I knew I could take shelter here.”
“Go home.”
“Can’t.” Minho shrugs. “Too wet.” He beelines toward the reading nook and plops into one of the chairs like he belongs there. Fortunately, the furniture in the store are waterproof. He never thought he’d have an obnoxious rich boy coming into his bookstore wet from rain when he bought them, but he’s never been glad he bought them.
Chan sighed and disappeared into the back room. When he returns, he tosses a towel at Minho’s face.
Minho blinks, catching it before it completely smothers him. “Oh? Channie does care.”
Chan glares. “I don’t want you dripping all over the books.”
Minho chuckles, but he does take the hint. He took his time to squeeze the water out of his hair and clothes.
Chan watches, regretting every decision that led to this moment.
Another sigh escapes him before he mutters, “Do you want coffee?”
Minho stops, mid-motion, clearly surprised. Then his lips tug into that insufferable smirk. “Are you offering because I’m a valued customer?”
Chan deadpans. “No. I’m offering because if you freeze to death in my store, the paperwork would be annoying.”
Minho laughs, soft but warm. “Touching.”
Chan walks off to make the coffee. Minho stays exactly where he is with a towel draped over his head, flipping through the book he randomly grabs. How to Keep Houseplants Alive for More than a Week.
It’s upside down. Again.
Chan does not comment on it. He just hands over the coffee, already regretting his kindness.
Minho slams The Comprehensive Guide to Raising Emotional Support Chickens onto the counter.
“This book is false advertising,” he announces.
Chan blinks at him. “...What?”
“Nowhere in here does it actually tell me how to get an emotional support chicken. I want a refund.”
Chan stares. “You? Read it?”
He was more shocked at the information that Minho read that unique book than his small outburst just now.
“No, but I skimmed the pictures.”
Chan closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. “No refunds.”
Minho clicks his tongue, but he’s still grinning as he picks the book back up. “Fine. But I expect better recommendations next time.”
He didn’t recommend him that book though?
Chan doesn’t even try to argue.
More than a month passed by since Chan’s unfortunate encounter with Minho, and by now, Minho’s visits are so common that Chan barely reacts when the familiar sound of the door swinging open too forcefully echoes through the shop.
But someone else does.
“Oh, it’s that pretty young man again,” an older woman mutters to her friend as she flips through a gardening book.
Chan ignores it. It turns out that some of his regulars have started keeping track of Minho’s visits like it’s an ongoing drama series.
Minho, completely unbothered, strolls in and immediately starts picking up a book at random, reading the titles out loud.
“ A Beginner’s Guide to Beekeeping. Tempting.”
Chan doesn’t even blink.
Minho hums and picks up another book. “ The Philosophy of Pessimism. Wow, you should read this one.”
A customer by the register chuckles under their breath.
Chan exhales slowly, pressing the buttons on his laptop harder than necessary.
A voice pipes up from the historical fiction section, casual but amused. “Hey, didn’t you buy a book last time? Something about…what was it again? Chickens?”
Minho doesn’t miss a beat. He straightens up, flashing a grin as if he’s been waiting for this moment. “Ah, yes. The Comprehensive Guide to Raising Emotional Support Chickens. ” he says it like it’s a highly esteemed literary classic.
A soft wave of laughter drifts through the store. Along with the general mutterings of “Of course, he did.” At this point, the regulars have accepted Minho’s antics as part of the bookstore experience. Albeit strange and unpredictable, it still somehow keeps things entertaining. Some of them are even invested now, throwing him amused glances like he’s the main character of some novel.
Minho, unfazed, leans an elbow on the counter and smirks at Chan. “Actually…I’ll buy something today, too.”
Chan narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh?”
Minho slides a book onto the counter, his smirk widening.
“Do you think I’d make a good beekeeper?”
Silence.
Then a cough disguised as a laugh from one of the regulars.
Chan inhales deeply, closes his eyes for a second, and seriously debates throwing him out.
“I’m begging you,” he says, voice flat. “Please buy a normal book for once.”
Minho taps the cover. “You’re right. I should be practical. Do you have a book on beekeeping and emotional support chickens?”
Someone actually snorts at that.
Chan grabs the book, scans it,a nd bags it so fast it’s almost violent. “25,000 won.”
Minho pays without hesitation, slinging the bag over his shoulder like a grand prize. As he turns to leave, one of the elderly regular leans over to Chan with a knowing look. “He’s sweet on you, you know.”
Chan’s eye twitches. “He’s a menace.”
The door chimes as Minho strolls out. But just before he disappears, he glances back over his shoulder and winks at Chan. That infuriating smirk is still firmly in place.
Chan suddenly feels very, very tired.
Minho was lingering again, taking his time despite already paying for his latest ridiculous purchase. He came later than he usually does. By the time he arrived, there were no more customers and Chan was already preparing to close the store. He flipped the bag over in his hands, eyes moving between the book inside and Chan behind the counter.
“You know,” he mused, tilting his head, “for someone who owns and spends all day in a bookstore, you don’t really seem like the reading type.”
Chan exhaled sharply.
Is Minho using the words Chan previously threw at him to annoy him today?
“And what exactly is the reading type?”
Minho smirked, leaning his weight against the counter. “You tell me.”
Chan shot him an unimpressed look. “You’re the one making assumptions.”
“Fine,” Minho relented, amusement still tugging at his lips. “It’s just…you don’t really talk about books. Not the way bookstore owners usually do.” His tone was light, teasing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you reading.”
Something inside Chan froze. It was such a small comment. Careless and unthinking, but it hit him deep. Too deep.
Because he knows Minho isn’t wrong. Because there was a time when reading was a comfort, when books weren’t just inventory but escapes. Stories that felt like home to him. But then one day, they weren’t anymore.
One day, the words on the pages stopped feeling like safety and started feeling like reminders. Reminders of what was lost.
Of what couldn’t be rewritten.
Chan’s grip on the counter tightened.
Minho, oblivious to the change in Chan, continued. “I mean, you’ve never had a book with you behind the counter. No guilty pleasure reads? No - “
Minho wasn’t able to finish his words when Chan’s voice cut him off.
“Are you done?”
His voice flatter and colder than intended.
Minho blinked, his smirk faltering. He studied Chan’s expression - the way his jaw had tensed, the way his fingers curled like he was holding something back.
He didn’t know what he had stepped on, but he had stepped on something .
“...Yeah,” he said after a moment. His voice is quieter now. “I guess I am.” The usual playful remark never came.
Chan turned away, pretending to fix something behind the counter. He did anything just not to meet Minho’s gaze. The door chimed when Minho left, but for the first time, he didn’t have a parting comment.
And then the bookstore fell quiet again.
Chan was left alone, but Minho’s words echo in his mind.
Chan finally got home after a long, exhausting day.
He barely remembers locking up the store. His body moved on autopilot. Lights and air conditioners off, shutters down, and keys turning in the lock. But his mind must’ve been somewhere else. Stuck.
Minho’s words lingered.
“ I don’t think I’ve ever seen you reading.”
A harmless comment. Just a casual observation. And yet, it dug under his skin, prying at things he had long since buried.
There was a time when he would’ve had a book with him everywhere. A time when the smell of pages and ink felt like safety. When stories weren’t just something he sold but something he lived in.
Now, the thought of opening a book for himself felt…foreign.
It had been years.
Chan let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand down his face. Why did it bother him so much? Minho was just being Minho. The same smug rich boy who’s relentless, teasing, and always testing boundaries.
But something else has been bugging him since earlier. This wasn’t just irritation. There was something else.
Something that made his chest feel tight.
He needed something to calm his nerves.
He already took a bath and changed into new clothes, but he still couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling from earlier.
He doesn’t have an appetite, and he was too tired to cook something, so he put the kettle on the stove and waited for the water to boil before pouring it into his mug to make himself a tea.
He took the warm cup of tea and leaned on the veranda’s door. He stared at the city lights outside his window. The city was bustling with so much life despite the darkness of the night. It was a stark contrast to his dark, cold, quiet apartment.
The quiet felt suffocation, pressing against him from all sides.
He exhaled and closed his eyes.
And before he even realized it, he whispers a name he hasn’t said aloud in a long time.
“ Lee Jaewon.”
The moment he said it, his eyes snapped open.
The weight in his chest turned heavy. He swallowed hard, the sound too loud in the empty space.
It had been so logn since that name rolled off his tongue.
But the past had a way of creeping in when you least expected it. And tonight, Minho had unknowingly cracked open a door Chan wasn’t ready to face.
Chan let out a slow breath, shaking off the unease curling in his chest. It was just a conversation. Just another one of Minho’s passing remarks.
That’s all it was.
And yet, as he stood there in his quiet apartment, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had already started unraveling.
That all of this was never just a coincidence.
Chapter Text
Chan popped a pill in his mouth and immediately drowned it down with a glass of water, wincing at the pain that’s been annoying him since he woke up.
It feels like he has a hangover.
But he didn’t drink last night.
He presses his fingers on his temple and releases a deep breath before he grabs his keys and bag and walks out the door of his apartment.
As he went out the building of his apartment, he saw the sweet old lady who lived below his floor walking towards his direction. She was back from her daily morning walk. He bowed at her and greeted her a good morning despite him cursing at the bright rays of the morning sun deep in his head.
“You don’t look too good, Channie. Are you sick?” The old lady looked at him, her brows scrunched up together.
Chan tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, granny. Just couldn’t sleep well, that’s all. Anyway, I gotta go. Take care today!” He then waved her goodbye, as he walked off.
As he took the usual route he takes to go to work on an ordinary Wednesday like today, he got to meet the same people and pets. He would always greet and chat up with them for a bit, but today was just impossible for him. He gave them a short greeting and continued to walk his way to work. They all gave him concerned looks, but he couldn’t care much at all because he was busy with his thoughts and the dread of facing today.
He already convinced himself that yesterday’s thoughts were just the product of exhaustion. Why would his name suddenly slip out if not for that? He just needs to take things slow down now.
That’s all because of stress.
He already has himself convinced, but when he saw the familiar building looming over him from afar, he stopped on his tracks. The eight-story bluish-white building with verandas surrounded by rows of green plants was looking welcoming as usual today, too. But his stomach felt queasy after every step he took closer to it.
Chan stared at the topmost floor of the building and then he remembers how the always-smirking face he has become familiar with faltered and twisted into guilt.
I bet he’s upset… Would he stop coming now?
Chan shook his head, as if to shake off the lingering unease he’s been feeling since last night.
He pulled up the cover for the door’s locking device before punching in the passcode, the soft beep echoing in the quiet street. A second later, the lock clicked open, the tiny LED screen flashing green.
As he pulled the door open, a rush of cool air greeted him.
He froze.
It wasn’t a new fact for him that his store feels much cooler inside whenever he opens it on summer mornings, but this is much cooler than he ever experienced - it’s as if the air conditioner has already been running for a while.
He immediately racked his brain whether he left it open yesterday, but he can’t even remember how he got home so it was useless. Then, from the corner of his eyes, he saw a dim light coming from inside the store. His hand immediately grabbed his bag and placed it in front of him, as if ready to smash it onto something. Or someone.
Chan slowly opened the door and tiptoped his way inside the store, all his nerves on alert. As soon as his body was fully inside the store, he followed the direction from where the light was coming from. His back was dripping with cold sweat. He could hear his racing heartbeat - he swore if someone was inside the store right now, they would also hear it with how loud it is.
The light was coming from a lamp in the reading nook section. He squinted his eyes towards its direction, and he caught something moving.
“You’re late.”
“What the actual fuck?!” Chan jumped in surprise when a voice suddenly popped up.
Then he hears snickering.
Chan reached out to the light switch immediately and turned on all the lights.
“Geez. A little warning would’ve been appreciated.” He heard the voice again. And it’s annoyingly familiar.
The light blinded him for a while, but as soon as his eyes settled down, he looked at where the voice came from. And there he saw, on one of the solo couches was Lee Minho sitting with feet hanging over the armrest, looking far too comfortable.
Chan deadpans. “What are you doing here?”
Minho, after rubbing his eyes, raised an arm that was holding an open book. “What else do you do in bookstores? Of course, I’m reading.”
Chan opened his mouth a few more times, but words failed him. He is just speechless.
With relief washing over him, his knees gave out and he ended up sitting on the ground. He buried his head on his propped up knees and tried to calm himself down.
Minho stood up and crouched over him in an instant.
“Are you okay?”
Chan could hear worry from Minho’s voice, and it made him feel tingly.
“Do I look okay? You scared the crap out of me.” Chan’s tone sounded sharper than he intended. He raised his head a bit and watched Minho’s reaction cautiously.
Despite what Chan expected, Minho let out a short, breathy laugh. And then he just plopped onto the ground, his quiet laughs filling the air.
Chan glanced at him with confusion.
After some time, Chan finally calmed down. He was still on the floor, but his face wasn’t buried in his knees anymore. He was staring daggers at Minho who just continued to smile at him mischievously.
“How did you get in?”
Minho puts a finger to his lips and stared upward, as if thinking deeply. Then he turns back at Chan with the same annoying smirk. “Your employee let me in.”
“I don’t have an employee.”
“Right. Which means your security sucks. Imagine using your landlord’s birthday as your passcode.” Minho’s smirk stretched wider and his eyes sparkled mischievously.
“You have the same locking device on all doors of your building, which means it’s all on you if you think the security sucks. Also, what the fuck do you mean your birthday? I don’t even know your birthday or how old you are.”
Chan knew Minho got exactly what he wanted, but he couldn’t help it. His rant was already in full swing. Words were just spilling out, letting out half-baked justifications.
“Hm.”
Chan’s brows scrunched up together. He didn’t like that hum. He didn’t like the way it sounded too much like Minho putting together a puzzle. A puzzle Chan didn’t even know he was a piece of.
“Hm - what?”
Minho shrugged innocently. “Oh nothing. I just think it’s fate you chose a passcode randomly, and it turns out to be my birthday. And since you did not know when my birthday is or how old I am, let me tell you. My birthday is October 25. And I am a year younger than you, ahjussi~”
October 25.
1025.
It is, indeed, his passcode.
“What kind of creepy coincidence is this?” Chan wrinkled his nose, feigning disgust.
Minho exaggeratedly covered his mouth with his hands. “Creepy? You wound me, Channie~”
Chan’s eye twitched. He even chose to ignore Minho calling him an ahjussi earlier, but now he’s calling him familiarly with a nickname?
“Hey. You kept on talking informally with me from the start. But you said I’m a year older than you, so why is that?” Chan crossed his arms on his chest, challenging Minho to answer him.
“Ey~ Come on, Channie~ It’s just a year. You’re not like those stuck-up assholes who insist on having hierarchy between friends, right~?”
The way Minho dragged out his words, playfully and smug, made Chan itching to throw something at him. Something small and harmless. Like a bookmark. Or an entire book.
Chan gave up.
He finally stood up and walked away from Minho and got readied for another day of work.
Minho stayed around for a couple of hours that morning, making himself completely at home. He drifts through aisles, misplaces books, sighs dramatically over novels he wasn’t reading, and randomly taps at the counter annoying Chan to no end. All of which the other customers find very entertaining, much to Chan’s dismay.
Minho spent his stay there like a man with nowhere else to be.
At one point, he absentmindedly stacked and unstacked a pile of bookmarks, clearly entertaining himself more than necessary. “Your store needs a cafe,” he mused.
Chan didn’t even look up. “It doesn’t.”
“Imagine it. Coffee, cozy lighting… and maybe a cat~”
Chan did look up then, albeit unimpressed. “You just want an excuse to loiter longer.”
Minho grinned, completely unashamed.
Chan didn’t push him away. At least not today. Not after yesterday.
He hates to admit it, but before he opened the door to the bookstore, a small, unwelcome thought crept in.
What if he actually got upset? What if he’s not coming back?
The idea weighed on his chest heavily, nagging at him in a way it shouldn’t have. But then, he audaciously gets in the store by himself and almost ends up giving Chan the scare of his life. He just unashamedly makes himself at home in his store, doing whatever he thinks of and constantly shoots Chan his smug grin.
His previous worries were left forgotten.
Minho was here. Acting the same as always. And Chan refused to acknowledge the relief that brought.
After spending hours wasting time annoying Chan and lounging at the reading corner like a cat stretching in a sunspot, he eventually lets out a lazy sigh and stood up.
“Well that was another productive day of doing my duty as your most charming customer. Guess I’ll leave you now so you can miss me~”
Chan scoffed.
“I’ll survive.”
Minho ignored that and winked at Chan before trotting out, the bell chiming after him.
The store felt different once Minho was gone. It was too still. Too quiet. It wasn’t as if Minho was always making loud noises when he’s around. It’s just that without his presence constantly begging Chan for attention, Chan feels…lacking.
Chan shook his head, trying to shake off the feeling.
He began straightening shelves, flipping the sign and locking up. It was just another Wednesday night. Just like any other Wednesday night.
Or at least, that’s what he started to think.
But as he stepped outside and pulled the door shut, the thought settled differently in his mind.
This wasn’t like the usual Wednesday. Not anymore.
His days had stopped being predictable the moment Minho walked through that door.
Minho starts dropping by more frequently since then. Which also means Chan gets terrorized by his presence more frequently - or so he’d like everyone to think.
Despite groaning every time Minho steps through the door, he never actually tells him to leave. If he does, he never really pushed Minho if he ignores it.
Despite claiming Minho is a nuisance, he always, somehow,ends up answering all of his curious questions. Even if they’re the weirdest and out-of-the-box kind of questions, Chan would still end up answering them.
Despite grumbling about Minho hogging the reading nook chair, he never asks him to move. Not even once.
And, worst of all, despite insisting he doesn’t care, he still finds himself glancing at the door when Minho is running later than usual.
If asked, he would deny waiting for Minho to come with all his might.
“What are you doing here this time?” This has been Chan’s routine greeting whenever he sees Minho. He thinks Good morning! and Welcome! are wasted on him, anyway so he’d rather skip them altogether.
Minho never responds to this question seriously, too.
“Expanding my literary horizons.” And he’d end up reading a book on grooming llamas.
“Supporting local businesses.” Buys anything but anything remotely useful for himself.
“It’s warm in here.” So he says while sprawled dramatically in his favorite spot in the store - the solo couch in the reading nook section. It was indeed the warmest spot in the store. It was not too hot, and also not too cold. Just comfortable enough that it makes one sleepy.
His answers started playful like this, but recently, he has started answering with things that are almost…too personal.
“I missed your charming personality” Chan does not give him the pleasure of reacting.
“Just checking if you finally developed a sense of humor.” Chan glares and Minho smirks.
“I’m waiting for the plot twist where you actually start liking me.” Chan nearly throws the book he was arranging on the shelves.
Chan would dig himself 7 feet below the ground if someone knows that despite knowing these were all just playful teasing from Minho, he finds himself getting flustered more than he’d like to admit.
And no matter how many times Chan rolls his eyes, sighs in exasperation, or physically tries to shove him out the door, Minho always comes back.
Minho comes back, even if it’s never for anything important.
He browses but never buys anything useful. He grabs books at random just to amuse himself. Self-help guides, conspiracy theory collections, an encyclopedia of medieval torture devices. Anything except something practical.
“This one looks like it’d really change my life,” he muses one day as he flips through The Art of Competitive Duck Herding.
Chan doesn’t even bother looking at him. “Go home, Minho.”
Minho ignores it and drops into the reading nook chair. One of these days, Chan wouldn’t even be surprised the chair would magically grow an engraving of Lee Minho’s name. Minho settles in with a satisfied sigh and stretched out like he owns the place.
And then, of course, there are his commentary sessions.
Minho developed a habit of picking up romance novels these days. He’s not choosing them for the sake of reading. He chose them solely to roast them out loud, dramatically reciting the most over-the-top lines he can find.
“Does anyone actually say these things in real life?” he would complain, waving a book in Chan’s direction.
Chan, trying his best to ignore him, doesn’t look up from his laptop. “Some people like romance, Minho.”
Minho scoffs. “I know. But, I mean, do they like this?” He clears his throat dramatically before reading aloud, “ His touch ignited a fire within me, a blaze so fierce it could outshine the sun, yet as gentle as a thousand rose petals drifting in the midnight breeze-”
He paused and glanced up with a smirk. “Chan, be honest. Has anyone ever touched you and compared it to floral meteorology? ”
Chan finally looks at him, unimpressed. “No, but if someone did, I’d still prefer it over hearing your voice every day.”
Minho laughs, completely unbothered by Chan’s words. Like he already knows Chan’s irritation is nothing serious. Like Chan knows he’ll be back tomorrow anyway.
And before Chan even realizes it, Minho’s presence becomes something he unconsciously waits for.
One afternoon, the bookstore was facing a small rush of customers that leaves Chan overwhelmed. He was juggling greeting the people who comes in the store, ringing up other customers’ purchases, stocking books, answering others’ inquiries, and keeping things in order that he’s been mixing up his words.
Then, from the corner of his eyes, a familiar figure sprawled in the reading nook caught his attention.
Minho was watching him from his usual spot, visibly amused.
“If you’re just going to sit there and do nothing but stare, at least make yourself useful.” Chan called out to him, exasperatedly.
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Did you just ask me for help?”
Chan gritted his teeth. “No, I’m demanding it.”
Chan wasn’t really expecting anything from him, but he was surprised when Minho stood up, his smirk still plastered on his face.
Minho was surprisingly efficient. He doesn’t fumble. He was handling customers with ease. He may not totally be the most polite sales clerk, but his sassy personality and natural wit was more than enough to entertain the customers. And because he was practically living in the bookstore, he was able to answer most of the questions they have.
Chan was able to finally breathe after Minho helped. He watches Minho, slightly impressed. But he’s also slightly annoyed that he’s impressed by this annoying rich boy, who seemed like he’s never done any kind of work in his life.
By the time the rush was over, they were both a little out of breath.
Chan stared at him. “You’ve worked retail before.”
Minho grinned at his sudden comment. “Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of customer service nightmares. The kind that haunts you. The kind that makes you reconsider every life choice that led you there.”
And for the first time, Chan laughs. It was a quiet chuckle, almost like an exhale, but Minho catches it immediately.
Minho’s smirk deepens, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Was that an actual laugh? Careful, Channie, or I might start thinking you like having me around~”
Chan scoffs as usual, shaking his head at Minho’s teasing.
There’s a thought that lingers at the back of his mind. Minho doesn’t exactly scream “former retail worker.” He’s annoyingly well-dressed and clearly not struggling for money. He even listed this bookstore at a very low price. The agent told Chan that the landlord really didn’t care about how low the price he put on it because he’s loaded. So him being in retail doesn’t add up.
Chan stares at him, suspicious for a second. How does someone like Minho know about customer service nightmares?
But he brushes it off. Not now. Not when Minho is already looking so damn smug about making him laugh. God forbid he’d know that Chan’s curious about him.
Just before Chan gets ready to close down the store, Minho lingers. He was holding the book he was just reading open on his lap. He looked up to where Chan was sitting behind the counter. They sat there in comfortable silence, just the two of them.
Then, out of nowhere, Minho casually says, “You don’t actually hate having me around, do you?”
Chan stiffens.
For a second, he considers snapping at him. But it wouldn’t be entirely true. Instead, he just scoffs.
“You’re tolerable, at best.”
Minho grins. “Hm. Progress.”
It was the usual lighthearted teasing from Minho. It was like always.
But something feels… different now. Something that Chan couldn’t put his finger on.
As Chan is locking up, he rubs his wrist absentmindedly. It’s sore after handling too many books today. Minho notices, but doesn’t say anything and just disappears. Chan was momentarily confused why Minho left just like that. He always makes it a huge deal every time he leaves. But he was tired after the long day today, so he just brushed it off.
Then, as Chan steps outside and finishes locking up, Minho casually grabs Chan’s wrist and presses something into his palm.
Chan frowned. “What-?”
“It’s just a heating pack. Use it.”
Chan stares at it. The gesture was so casual. So natural that he suddenly doesn’t know how to react. He would’ve usually brushed it off, but this time he doesn’t let go of the pack.
“I didn’t ask for this.” He grumbled.
Minho shrugged. “And I didn’t ask to spend my afternoon being a temporary bookstore employee. But here we are.”
Chan doesn’t have a snarky comeback for once.
Minho smirks like he won something and walks away after shooting chan a flying kiss.
Chan watches him go, still holding the heating pack. He feels something strange settle in his chest.
Annoying.
That’s what Minho is.
But for the first time, Chan wonders… maybe he doesn’t mind it as much as he used to.
Notes:
Minchan breathed just now, which distracted me a bit from finishing the chapter lmao MINHO INITIATED A BACKHUG AND THEY'RE TOO SOFT AND DOMESTIC I SCREAMED FOR AN HOUR
Anyway, I hope you have fun reading this~
Chapter Text
Minho has been dropping by the bookstore almost daily now. Like he was a regular employee who only lazes around and works only once in a blue moon. Even the regular customers come in and ask where Chan’s cat was. The cat in question being the figure that’s always sprawled at the sunniest part of the reading corner, Lee Minho.
A giant stray cat, more like.
Chan tells himself it was annoying. Minho’s presence. His teasing. The way he always manages to settle in the best seat in the reading nook. Or the way everyone else treats his actions as something normal. But then Chan catches himself checking the clock, noting the time Minho usually drops by.
What’s worse is that, on rare occasions that Minho doesn’t show up, the usual quietness feels so strangely empty. And Chan refuses to name this feeling.
It isn’t just the bookstore anymore. Minho is slipping into other parts of Chan’s life. So seamlessly. Like he has always belonged there.
The first time it happens, it was entirely by chance.
Minho drops by late. Chan was already tidying up the store when he hears the intense swing of the door. He turns toward the entrance just in time to see Minho stroll in, looking as smug as ever. Like he hadn’t just barely made it in time.
“Missed me?” Minho leaned his back to the counter, watching as Chan pulls the blinds down.
Chan scoffs. “You wish.”
He won’t ever admit to anyone, especially to Minho, that he caught himself checking the clock a couple times today. Or how he felt that tiny pang of disappointment when it was almost closing time and Minho still hadn't shown up despite saying he’d come by today, too. He’d rather bury himself alive than let Minho get wind of that. Just imagining the insufferable grin it would earn is tiring him already.
And yet, despite how casually Minho carries himself, Chan isn’t oblivious. His shirt is slightly creased. His sleeves aren’t rolled as neatly as usual. And there’s a faint sheen of sweat in his hairline.
He ran here.
Chan narrows his eyes. “You’re late.”
Minho only smirks. “Am I?”
Chan notes the subtle signs of his rushing. A bit oddly satisfying to look at instead of his usual put-together rich boy look. Chan purses his lips, trying to contain the amusement he feels from finding out this adorable side to this usually annoying person.
Chan shook his head and decided to let it go. For now.
“Unfortunately, I’m about to go home now so you can’t hang around. And, before you say anything else, no. You can’t stay here by yourself, even if you know the passcode. I will call the police the next time you do that.”
Chan warns him, which was only met with Minho’s laugh.
“I didn’t think of that, but thanks for the idea, Channie~”
Chan glared at him but Minho only laughs more.
“Anyway, since I’m already here, want to grab dinner with me?” Minho casually asks.
Chan stared at him with a mix of surprise and suspicion.
Minho, of course, ignores it. “You haven’t eaten yet, right? Come on, I heard the new steakhouse around the corner is amazing.”
For a moment, Chan considers turning him down just because it was Minho who asked. But he is hungry, and the thought of a good steak is tempting. Maybe…just maybe it’s also because Minho actually bothered to keep his word and show up that he had to come running.
Minho must have not expected him to say yes because his eyes widen when Chan finally nods. Chan smirks. It’s rare to see Minho caught off guard. He looks almost innocent like this.
Once Minho recovers, his usual grin returns. He immediately helps Chan finish locking up, his enthusiasm a little too obvious.
The dinner was surprisingly better than Chan expected. The food was good and Minho's company was also not bad. It was the first time they actually sat down and talked properly without turning every sentence into some form of banter or a challenge.
Chan learns that Minho is far more agreeable than he expected. Still a bit of an ass, but undeniable engaging. He knows an almost ridiculous amount about specific topics, effortlessly leading their conversation into things Chan never thought he’d find interesting. They talk about everything and nothing, and before Chan knows it, the meal is over. And they’re already heading back.
He won’t really say it out loud, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it enough that when Minho asks again a few nights later, Chan only hesitates a few seconds before saying yes.
And then it happens again.
And again.
Before either of them acknowledges it, sharing dinner has become a habit. It’s never planned. Never explicitly agreed upon, but somehow, it keeps happening. As soon as it’s closing time, Minho drops everything he’s been doing and comes to help out Chan, and before Chan could even argue, they’d already be on their way to another restaurant. Another easy conversation. Another night that stretches just a little longer than it probably should.
Chan doesn’t think too hard about it. He doesn’t ask why Minho keeps coming back, and he definitely doesn’t ask why he lets him.
It’s frustratingly easy to fall into. Minho still gets on his nerves, still pushes his buttons with his annoying grin, but there’s something easier about it now. Something familiar that neither of them has spoken aloud. Chan doesn’t feel the need to fill silences. And Minho doesn’t always feel the need to tease.
But habits have a way to make people let their guard down.
One night, with half-finished plates in front of them and the lingering warmth of another unexpectedly enjoyable conversation, the topic changes.
Relationships. Love. Heartbreak.
Chan doesn’t really engage much. He just listens. He lets Minho ramble on about past flings, about messy breakups and just anything and everything about his past relationships. Chan, on the other hand, doesn’t share anything.
Minho notices. He always does.
“You don’t talk about your own experiences much,” Minho muses, his fingers idly twirling his fork. “What, were they all so terrible you just erased them from memory?”
Chan scoffs, shaking his head. “Not everyone likes to share their personal life over dinner, Minho.”
Minho smirks. “Oh, come on. What’s the worst that could happen? You say something embarrassing and I make fun of you? I’ve already been doing that on a daily basis though?”
Chan rolls his eyes, but Minho isn’t letting it go. He leans in slightly, his tone playful but the playfulness in his eyes disappeared for a second and was replaced by something unreadable. “What, did someone break your heart so bad you swore off relationships forever?”
Chan freezes.
Minho watches him carefully like he’s waiting for something.
A reaction, maybe.
Or an answer.
But when Chan finally moves, it’s just to stretch out his arm to get his drink. His expression doesn’t change, but the way his fingers tighten around the glass gives him away.
Minho should stop. He knows he should. But he’s curious. He needs to know.
“Did you ever wonder if they even think about you anymore?” he asks, his tone skill light despite his words heavy. “Or if you were just easy to-”
The thin scraping of the chair against the floor cuts him off.
Chan is already standing before he even realizes it. His jaws tight and eyes dark with something Minho has never seen before. Not anger. Not annoyance. Something quieter.
“I said stop.”
Minho blinks, his grin slipping. He realizes that he’s gone too far. Although a little bit too late.
Chan doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. “You think this is funny?” His tone is sharp. “You think my pain is something to joke about?”
Minho tries to open his mouth multiple times, but no words come out.
Chan shakes his head and steps back to create distance. His next words come out softer, but they land heavily. “Leave.”
It isn’t a request.
For the first time since they met, Minho hesitates. But then he does something he’s never done before.
He listens.
He leaves.
Minho doesn’t return the next day.
Or the day after that.
Chan tells himself it’s a relief, but the empty space where Minho should be feels more noticeable than it should.
He shakes it off. He forces himself to focus on work, and ignores the way his eyes always turn towards the door, half expecting Minho to stroll in like nothing happened. But Minho doesn’t come. The habit they had built has been broken just like that.
On the third day, Chan should already be feeling better. He should stop wondering if Minho still feels guilty. If he regrets saying what he did. Or if he even cares at all.
But then the door swings open. It was slow and careful, so Chan never expected to see Minho standing there.
He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t have that usual infuriating glint in his eyes.
“Hey,” he starts. His voice quieter and softer than Chan is used to.
Chan crosses his arms. “You’re late.”
Minho blinks. “What?”
Chan exhales, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
For a moment, neither of them says anything. The silence starting to suffocate both of them. Minho shifts like he wants to say something, but he’s being careful.
Then, finally, he sighs. “I was out of line.”
Chan stays quiet. Just waiting.
Minho rubs the back of his head, his gaze dropping before meeting Chan’s again. “I didn’t mean to-” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “No, I did mean to push. But not like that.”
Chan stares at him longer. The sincerity in his voice is rare, but it’s there. It is real.
“...Yeah,” Chan finally replies. “You were an ass.”
Minho huffs out a small laugh, nodding. “Yeah, I was.”
Another paus.
But this time, it’s not heavy.
Chan glances at the clock. “You eating or not?”
Minho stares dumbfounded for a second.
Then, he smiles.
“Yeah. I’m starving.”
Falling back into their peaceful, but also chaotic daily lives was easy for both of them. Minho would come and sprawl on his favorite spot in the reading corner, either quietly reading the most ridiculous books or giving his free commentaries on the cringiest lines of a romance book.
“I’m glad you two made up already. The bookstore is back to being lively.”
Chan was surprised by the random comment another regular said when she saw Minho in his usual spot.
Chan frowned. “We really didn’t fight though.” But his denial was only met with a knowing laugh.
The two of them never talked about the fight after they made up. They just went back to what they had before.
Everything feels normal again.
If there’s one thing that has changed, it would probably by how Minho was more careful with him now. He still teases Chan, but there’s some hesitance that wasn’t there before.
Chan doesn’t acknowledge it, but he notices.
And then, one day.
Two days.
A week.
It’s almost two weeks now.
Minho hasn’t shown up.
He doesn’t come in the morning. Not in the afternoon. Not even at closing.
Chan tells himself he doesn’t care.
But by the fourth day, he’s restless. He’s been checking the door more often than he should.
After a week, he walks into the main building after he closed the bookstore. He tried to casually ask the person at the front desk if Chan was in his place. The staff is familiar with Chan as she also frequents the bookstore, and she has seen his interactions with Minho, so answering came easier.
Chan learns that Minho left four days ago and hasn’t returned since then. And to add to Chan’s worries, the staff also mentioned how Minho was looking rather down days prior to that.
Chan hasn’t gotten that impression from Minho the last time they were together. They got dinner together, as usual and he was actually rather in a good mood back then. He could still remember the childlike laugh Minho made when Chan’s ice cream fell after a dog jumped up on him on the street. Minho laughed, but also helped Chan clean his hand that was sticky with ice cream. He also disappeared for a bit and when he came back, Minho was already holding a small cup filled with fresh ice cream, grinning.
Chan was left to think about so many things as to what happened with Minho after days of no contact.
This made Chan realize that despite knowing each other for a couple of months already, they’ve never exchanged numbers. He couldn’t reach Minho. And Minho couldn’t reach him, as well.
Then, on the ninth day, Minho finally walks in.
But something is different.
His unusual easy going demeanor is gone.
His posture is rigid.
And his expression is unreadable.
Chan feels it instantly.
Something is wrong.
Minho doesn’t speak right away. He stands there, his gaze steady on Chan, as if preparing himself for something big.
Finally, he exhales and steps closer.
“I need to tell you something.”
The atmosphere changes, heavy tension was settling between them. And they know they couldn’t ignore it.
Chan stares at him carefully, his stomach twisting. “What is it?”
Minho hesitates. And that’s how Chan knows it’s serious.
Then, Minho finally meets Chan’s eyes.
“It’s about my brother…”
Chan is confused, but still keeps quiet and lets Minho finish what he has to say, ignoring the uneasiness in his stomach.
“My brother - or rather the person you’ve been waiting for this whole time… Lee Jaewon.”
And in that moment, everything shifts out of place.
Chapter Text
Chan stares at Minho, the words repeating over and over in his head.
“My brother… Lee Jaewon.”
His grip tightens on the counter. It’s a name he never expected to hear from Minho, of all people. But it’s not just the name. It’s the way Minho says it. The weight behind his words. The lack of his usual teasing. It wasn’t like his earlier awkward apologetic expression. This is something else. Something heavier.
Minho looks tense, as if bracing for something. And when Chan doesn’t respond, he exhales sharply and runs a hand down his face like he’s still trying to figure out how much he should say.
Then, Minho finally looks up, meeting Chan’s gaze.
“I am Lee Jaewon’s younger brother.”
The words hit Chan like a wave, crashing hard.
Chan doesn’t react at first. He hears the familiar name and understands the words, but his brain refuses to process their meaning together.
“What?” Chan’s voice comes out quiet and confused.
Minho doesn’t repeat it anymore. Just saying those words felt like he was trying to breathe underwater. Instead, he continues.
“I need you to listen to me properly. You can hate and blame me all you want later,” Minho’s voice trembles but he chose to finish what he had to say. “But I need you to listen to me right now. My brother did not leave you. He did not break up with you.”
Chan’s head was spinning. He blinks, staring like Minho’s speaking a language he doesn’t understand.
“What the hell are you saying, Minho?” His voice sharper now. “If this is a joke-”
“It’s not.” Minho cuts in, voice firm. “I would never joke about this. Not with you.” Minho’s voice was low but it was heavy, emphasizing the seriousness of his words. “My brother did not leave you of his own choice, Chan. He couldn’t even make that choice on his own.”
Minho swallows hard, like every word is fighting to come out. “The day you were supposed to go to your 5th anniversary dinner… he got into an accident. He almost lost his life.”
Chan’s knees buckle. The world goes quiet.
Minho moves quickly, catching him before he falls and guides him to a nearby chair. Then he kneels, still holding Chan’s hands like he’s afraid to let go.
“He survived,” he says softly. “He’s healthy and has recovered well now. Physically.”
Minho’s words brought Chan relief, but he couldn’t say anything yet. He could feel that Minho has yet to tell him everything.
Minho continues, more carefully now.
“But he lost his memory. Everything from the last five years from the accident is just…gone.”
Five years.
“He doesn’t remember any of it, Chan. Not your relationship. Not the life you built together. Not even your name.”
Chan’s heart shatters and crumbles at the weight of those words.
Minho tightens his grip on Chan’s hands. His own voice shaking and his chest tightening seeing the pain his words are affecting Chan right now. But he was determined.
He needs to tell Chan everything.
For Chan.
And for his brother.
“He doesn’t even remember that you existed. And our mother used this chance to separate him from you and get him back in our family. She kept him surrounded by people he remembered. She made sure he never knew about you.”
Chan’s eyes widen and his breath unsteady.
“She was also the one who sent the break up text to you.” Minho adds, voice quieter. “She made it look like he left you.”
Chan’s heart was pounding. He doesn’t know if it’s from anger, shock, or something else entirely.
Memories come rushing back.
That day, Chan got off from work earlier than he usually does. He missed Jaewon. They lived together, but they both were extremely busy the past few weeks so seeing each other was hard. But they promised to meet for their anniversary.
He dropped by the flower shop and ordered a bouquet of sunflowers Jaewon always loved. Chan also came to buy wine they could share once they’re in their hotel room. They decided for a weekend of staycation.
Chan was really excited. He came to the restaurant earlier than scheduled. He sent Jaewon a message, which he also got a reply almost instantly. Jaewon sent him an excited reply saying he couldn’t wait to see him soon.
Chan waited.
And waited.
But Jaewon never came.
He called but his calls wouldn’t connect.
He called their friends, or anyone they knew. But no one has seen him since he left from work at lunch.
Chan went back to their shared apartment, but he wasn’t there.
Chan waited for him that night.
The next day.
And days after that.
Until he finally received that text from Jaewon’s number.
The words that broke him.
And now…
Now Minho was telling him it was all a lie?
Chan’s breath comes in short, uneven gasps. His chest tightens. His eyes sting. But despite the shock, the confusion, and the grief, one undeniable truth stands out above everything else.
Minho knew.
He had always known.
Chan lifts his head and eyes locking into Minho’s.
Minho flinched. There was no more warmth in those eyes. There was only pain, betrayal, and an aching emptiness.
“You knew who I was from the start, didn’t you?”
Minho knew it wasn’t a question anymore.
He doesn’t even try to deny it.
He only offers a strained smile, his heart heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry.”
Chan feels something inside him crack. He laughs bitterly and yanks his hands away. “Of course you did,” he mutters, standing suddenly. “Of course.”
Chan runs a hand through his hair, trying to stay calm. But it was impossible.
Every shared moment, every conversation, every smiles exchanged. Everything was all wrapped in something Minho never said. The truth he hid.
Everything was a lie.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” Minho confesses, his voice barely audible.
Chan scoffs. “Then how exactly did you want it to happen? Were you ever planning to tell me?”
“Yes.” Minho’s answer came immediately.
Chan only laughs. But there’s no humor in it.
“When? After you got bored playing landlord? After you make me trust you enough that I’d let my guard down?”
Minho flinches slightly. And Chan sees it. The guilt in Minho’s face.
Chan’s voice drops, realization settling in. “That’s why you kept showing up, wasn’t it? That’s why you never left me alone.”
“At first, maybe. But-”
Chan cuts him off. “But what? You decided to stick around for fun? To see how much of a mess I was?”
Minho’s expression hardens. His usual smugness is gone, replaced by something raw. Something almost vulnerable.
“No, that’s not it.” His voice barely a whisper but desperate.
For a moment, Chan wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe the time they spent together.
But the betrayal cuts too deep.
He didn’t realize it, but he was already starting to trust Minho. Not yet totally, but he trusted him enough.
But now, it feels like none of it was real.
Chan takes a step back, putting distance between them. His chest tight and his mind spiraling.
“I can’t do this right now.”
“Just let me explain.” Minho’s voice asked, desperate.
But Chan shook his head. “Explain what? That you’ve been lying to me this whole time? That every second we spent together was a lie?”
Minho doesn’t answer right away. He just watches Chan, his expression unreadable.
Then after a long pause, he whispered, “It wasn’t a lie.”
Chan exhales sharply and looks away. His mind was spinning. He doesn’t know what’s worse: that Minho hid the truth, or the fact that some parts of him want to believe in him.
“I don’t care anymore.” Chan’s voice was cold.
Minho stiffens but doesn’t say anything.
“Just…don’t come back.”
Minho opened his mouth multiple times but no word comes out. He sees that Chan has made up his mind. He stares at Chan, whose head was turned away from him for a little bit more before fishing out a torn piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on Chan’s hand.
Chan flinched at Minho’s touch, but he didn’t pull away. He felt the delicate paper crinkle in his close palm, not knowing why Minho was giving this to him.
“My brother may not have recovered all his memories yet, but he’s been dreaming of someone’s warm and tight hugs these days. He asked me if I knew who it was…” Minho’s voice sounded light like he’s telling Chan happy story, but the trembling of his fingers on Chan’s hand tells Chan a different story. “I couldn’t tell him immediately.”
Minho stops and Chan hears him inhale sharply. “But I finally told him about you today. He wants to meet you.” His voice cracked. “I wrote his number for you. Please call him. And…”
Minho didn’t say anything for a while but Chan still didn’t look back at him. He feels like if he did, he’d end up forgiving Minho immediately.
“I’m sorry. Please forget about these past months I bothered you. I wish you two the best.”
And with that, Chan felt the warmth of Minho’s hands leave, the sound of the bells on his door ringing a moment later.
Then, silence.
Chan stood there, unmoving. His hands gripping the piece of paper Minho gave him. His breath was uneven. His chest was tight with something he couldn’t name.
Minho was gone.
And he thinks it’s for real this time.
Notes:
lmao i thought i wrote at least 3k words for this chapter, but it was actually less than 2k. My heart was heavy as i was writing this. I feel like crying as I typed the words, as if I didn't plan for this already lol anyway, i hope you had fun reading!
Chapter 6
Notes:
This is everything that happened from Minho's POV
Chapter Text
People have always envied him. He was born in a family with generations of wealth and power. He has never worried about getting food on his plate, or having enough clothes to wear on winters.
He’s really lucky.
But he wasn’t really all that lucky.
Because he was nothing but “the second son.”
Because he will always be the spare and not the heir. The shadow of his brother.
Because Lee Minho will never be Lee Jaewon.
Lee Jaewon was the golden child. He’s the perfect son. He excelled at everything he tried on and could do whatever was given to him, and even deliver more than what was asked of him.
He was the one their parents put all their hopes on.
Lee Minho was also above average on most things, but he could only achieve them by giving his 200% and getting only two hours of sleep every night. But despite his efforts, he still couldn’t achieve more than what his brother did.
People around them would always compare him with Jaewon, and they would always end up giving him the pitying and disappointed looks.
“Why can’t he be like his brother?”
Minho hated hearing this.
But he never hated Jaewon for it. They were really close, despite everything.
All the adults around them never gave attention to Minho. They treat him like he’s invisible. Even servants would ignore him when no one else was looking.
Minho hated the adults. But he never grew up with malice overtaking his life. Because he still had his older brother. Jaewon spoiled him. He would always make sure Minho was taken care of properly. He gave whatever the adults couldn’t give his brother. He was Minho’s only refuge in that huge mansion.
Unfortunately, when Jaewon was in his last year of high school, he got busier and had less time to be at home. He would still spend whatever time he could spare with Minho, but it left the younger alone more than he has ever been.
Minho had no friends at school. He kept to himself after realizing they only approach him for his family. But once he stopped giving his best with anything, they just didn’t bother talking to him anymore. And Minho preferred it that way, too.
But since he had no friends, he doesn’t know what normal kids his age even do in their spare time. He was bored at home, and he just wanted to escape from the suffocating house. So he decided to wander outside by himself. He didn’t bother to tell anyone when he left since no one was interested about it anyway.
He walked and wandered aimlessly. Their neighborhood was relatively peaceful. It only had a few houses, but since they were houses owned by people with money, they were far apart from each other. He walked a good amount until he finally got to a road where more people pass by. He followed the direction where most people were going to. And before he knows it, he was already standing at the entrance of a street full of rows of stalls with food and other stuff.
It was a street fair.
The sky was setting but the energy was still high. People are starting to fill in the street and he knew this was a place too crowded for anyone to care about the name of some rich businessman’s forgotten son.
This was a perfect place to kill time.
But he doesn’t know where to start. This was the first time he’s been to a fair, or any public event, at that. He slowly made his way into the street, looking at each booth he passed by until he heard cheers from one of the stalls nearby.
He walked closer to where the sound came from and found a group of boys huddled on one stall. At their center was a boy around his age, still wearing a uniform. He was holding a green plastic ring with his right hand and aimed for the pegs deep inside the booth.
Minho had to tiptoe just to see well.
Everyone around the booth was excitedly waiting for the other boy to throw his ring. As soon as he positioned himself, everyone held their breath. With a quick flick of his wrist, the ring flew through the air. Only to bounce off the peg and clatter into the wooden counter.
A collective groam erupted. Some threw their hands up in frustration while the others shook their heads with dramatic sighs. One boy playfully smacked the unlucky thrower in the back, teasing him.
Minho watched them take turns playing. He stood at the edge of the booth, hands stuffed in his pockets. He watched the group of boys erupt into froans and laughter as one of them missed a throw. They didn’t look like a group of friends, more like just random people who just ended up playing together.
But their energy was infectious.
He wanted to join in. He wants to tease the thrower. To feel the rush of competition.
But he hesitated.
He wasn’t sure how to slip into the moment without feeling like an outsider.
Before he could decide, someone beside him spoke up.
“Hey, you wanna play?”
Minho turned to see the first boy he saw playing. He grinned at him as he held out a ring. His dark curly hair was slightly messy, his eyes bright with excitement. There was no hesitation in his invitation.
“I…Uh…” Minho glanced at the other kids, half-expecting them to protest. But they were just watching, waiting.
“Come on,” the boy urged, shaking the ring in his hand. “It’s just a game.”
Minho hesitated for another second before finally reaching out and taking it. The boy’s grin widened.
“I’m Chan, by the way,” he said, stepping aside to give Minho a spot at the booth.
That night, he didn’t just get to play a game.
He found his first friend.
He found his first love.
Minho kept coming back to the street fair a couple more times after that, hoping to see Chan again. And he did. He spent every day playing with his new friend. They played on all booths they could until the fair ended.
Minho was actually sad on the last day of the fair because he thought it was also the last day he had to play with Chan. But Chan asked him to play more after that.
Chan brought him to the arcade, the movie theatres, and anywhere else kids their age hang out at.
Minho felt like he was just like any other kid. He laughed and ran, free from the suffocating weight of his own home.
He experienced it all because of Chan.
Chan who looked at him like he was just…a boy. Not the second son. Not a disappointment.
For the first time, Minho felt seen.
The times he spent with Chan was the happiest he had ever been.
But, all of a sudden, Chan was gone. He didn’t appear at their usual meet up place.
He waited for four hours but he didn’t come.
He went back the next day.
And the day after next.
Chan didn’t come.
No warning. No goodbye. Just gone.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months.
He told himself it didn’t matter. That he was used to being forgotten.
But deep down, it hurt.
Minho spent the rest of his high school drifting through the days, keeping to himself like he always had. He watched days and months and years pass by in a blur.
After graduation, he immediately enlisted in the military. For two years, he cut contact with the outside world. Jaewon was also in the military, but almost done with his service, so there was really no one he could talk to. When his service ended, only one person came to meet him. Jaewon.
They spent a few quiet days traveling together, just him and his brother. It was the kind of simplicity Minho cherished.
Jaewon had chosen to stay in Seoul, attending a prestigious university. He had been accepted into several Ivy League schools abroad, but he chose to stay and learn the ropes at the family company.
Minho, on the other hand, was sent abroad without any plans. He was provided with all the money he needed, but no one really cared what he did, so he spent his days in some random college while he worked multiple gigs at a time.
No one really cared what he did, as long as he doesn’t put shame on their name.
He had some money in the cards given to him, but he wanted to try living for himself. And by earning money on his own gave him a sense of freedom. A tiny rebellion, maybe. His own quiet way of saying he existed on his own terms.
But then one day, Jaewon called. He told him he was leaving the family. He was cutting ties with their parents. He would still talk to Minho but not as often as he used to. He felt too suffocated in their family that he wants to break free.
Minho’s heart twisted with envy for his courage to do what he wanted. Because he was brave enough to choose freedom, while Minho still felt shackled by fear. Fear of being alone. Of being nothing without the identity their family gave him.
“I’m happy for you, hyung,” Minho told him, his voice steady. “Please take care and call me when you need me. I’ll always be here.”
He didn’t want Jaewon to leave him alone in their dysfunctional family, but he also didn’t want to hold him back, so he could only wish him good luck.
Without Jaewon, his parents had no choice but to give all their hopes to their backup son. Minho came back home to work in their company. He did his best to meet the expectations given to him. Fortunately, he was good enough for them.
He should feel grateful. He should have seen it as his chance to prove himself. But all he felt was resentment. Because he was never their first choice. Because everything he has now was only given after someone else rejected it first.
Still, he obeyed. He worked. He learned. He became exactly what they wanted.
But inside, he still felt empty.
Then, one day, Jaewon sent him a message and a photo.
It was a photo of Jaewon and another man, smiling together.
Minho’s heart stopped.
He stared at the picture for a long time and he feels liek something inside him is breaking.
Because the other man was him. The boy he once waited for. The one who disappeared. The one he never forgot.
[This is Chan. My boyfriend.]
And now, the one who belonged to his brother.
His smile was still the same. The way his eyes and nose crinkled, and the way his dimples deepened was still the same.
His smile that lit up his world was now lighting up together with his brother’s.
The two most important people in Minho’s life were smiling widely together. Minho should be happy for them. He is, but a big part of his heart was also breaking.
Minho swallowed his heartbreak and forced himself to smile as he texted Jaewon back.
[You both look good together. You’re lucky.]
Because that was the only thing he could say.
The only thing he was allowed to say.
Minho spent the next five years just barely existing. He worked. He went home. He repeated the cycle. His parents, thankfully, weren’t breathing down his neck. He was doing well at the company. But since he doesn’t even know what to do with his free time, he just chose to spend most of his days at the company. He stayed at the office long after everyone had gone home. It was easier that way. Safer.
Then Jaewon’s accident happened.
Just a few hours before, they were together. Jaewon was smiling. Joking. Alive. And then suddenly, Minho was at the hospital, staring at his brother’s limp, bloodied body being rushed through the ER on a stretcher.
He followed into the hallway outside of the operating room, too stunned to speak. Their parents arrived minutes later. His mother sobbed and nearly fainted. His father caught her and helped her into a seat without saying a word.
Eventually, the doctor came out. Jaewon was not in immediate danger anymore but he was still in critical condition. He needed to be monitored closely.
They waited for days.
And on the eighth day, Jaewon opened his eyes.
He looked up and called out to their parents. He called them like he used to when they were younger. No resentment. No coldness. Just a childlike softness left in his voice.
That’s when they learned the truth. Jaewon’s memories were gone.
He had no memory from just before he cut ties with their family. No memory of the pain that pushed him away.
As soon as their parents realized this, Minho saw their faces lit up, like hope had returned. They lit up like they had been given a second chance. And Minho was right. Because from then on, they began focusing more on Jaewon again, as if nothing ever happened.
But Minho didn’t care.
He had long stopped expecting anything from them. He had no real attachment to his job, either. That’s why when his father came to him and said, “We think Jaewon is ready to return to the company.” Minho didn’t wait for the rest. He dropped everything without hesitation.
He stayed for a while to help him get used to things, but his brother picked things up quickly, as always.
While everyone was busy setting up Jaewon’s new life, Minho’s mind was consumed by someone else.
Chan.
The man who thought his lover cruelly left him without even saying goodbye in person.
As soon as Jaewon woke up, Minho wanted to tell Chan about what happened. Jaewon’s phone had survived the crash, slightly damaged, but still functioning. It kept ringing. Chan kept calling him.
Minho wanted to pick it up and tell him everything, but his mother stopped him.
“Your brother is still recovering,” she said. “His memories might be buried for a reason. Forcing them out could hurt him. We can’t risk putting his life at risk again.” His mother’s voice was tinged with desperation.
Minho hated it. He hated himself, too, because he agreed,
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Chan alone in the dark.
He started checking in from afar. He watched as Chan tried to hold himself together. He didn’t stop working, but it was clear he was only letting things happen as time went by. Minho saw the dullness in his eyes. The lifeless way he moved, as if the world had drained him of color.
Minho wanted to help. Quietly, without intruding. Without making things worse.
Then, finally, he found a way to help him.
He bought a building in a quiet neighborhood in some corner of Seoul. He didn’t really care about the specifics of the building, other than that it had a tiny bookstore on the ground floor that closed a long time ago.
As soon as he saw that, he remembered how Chan loved reading and how he always dreamed of opening one when he grew up.
It was perfect.
Minho hoped Chan still had the same dream as he slipped a flyer he made specifically for Chan in his mail box. He made sure Chan couldn’t ignore it by offering an unbelievably low rate. He made sure it was a deal too good to ignore.
And then he waited.
Minho waited for a long while before Chan even tried to open his mail box, and a good amount of time more to contact the number Minho left for him.
Minho hired someone from their company to act as an agent, just to keep his own name out of it. The agent later told Minho how Chan was really cautious. He was suspicious of the offer. Of the agent’s identity. Even after showing his company ID, Chan had taken a long moment to decide.
Chan finalized the deal days after that.
He had quit his office job and decided to focus on the bookstore, slowly rebuilding something from what remains of his grief.
Minho stayed in the shadows, only watching him from a distance.
And for a long time, that was enough. Until fate interfered, and they met again.
Minho hadn’t meant for it to happen. He hadn’t planned on showing himself. Hadn’t prepared to speak.
But the moment they met, he just couldn’t stop himself. He saw Chan’s face shift with different emotions when they met. It was not the empty and hollow look he’s had for months now. And Minho wants to see more of it.
He annoyed Chan until it became a habit. A need.
Seeing his reactions, hearing his voice, watching him slowly come back to life. It was intoxicating.
But what he didn’t expect was that, somewhere along the way, the feelings he buried for years came back stronger than ever. Hungrier.
At first, he told himself it didn’t matter. It was just one-sided. Chan would never look at him the way he looked at Jaewon.
He convinced himself that it was okay.
Until it wasn’t.
Because something began to shift. Chan started to look at him differently. His voice softened. His glances lingered. There were smiles directed his way, albeit small and only for a second. They were meant only for him.
Minho felt seen.
And, for a moment, Minho thought that finally, maybe… just maybe, he wasn’t just the backup.
Maybe he could be someone’s first choice.
But then, Jaewon called.
“I’ve been having dreams,” he said, quietly. Almost cautious. “About someone. The same person. Over and over.”
Minho’s heart sank.
“I don’t know who he is,” Jaewon continued. “But every time I wake up, I feel… empty.”
And just like that, Minho’s fragile hope shattered.
His brother was starting to remember. And Chan… Chan still has Jaewon in his heart.
Minho still had no place between them.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
“You know something, don’t you?” Jaewon asked.
Minho hesitated, then deflected. “You’ve had a long day today, hyung. You should get more sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”
Then he hung up.
For days, Minho lingered outside the bookstore, watching Chan from a distance. He really wanted to go in, to fall back into their usual bickering and quiet moments. But guilt glued his feet to the ground.
He knew Chan would hate him for keeping the truth.
But more than the anger, Minho was haunted more by the pain he caused and he knew he would bring.
Minho wandered aimlessly anywhere, far from Chan. Far from Jaewon. He wandered alone. In the dark. With his thoughts haunting him, making him unable to sleep for days.
Until, finally, he made a decision.
He went to Jaewon first. He told him the truth. The truth about the missing five years of his life.
But not everything.
Not the stolen moments with Chan. Not the feelings that lingered like ghosts between them.
He doesn’t need to know about it.
It wasn’t anything of importance in the upcoming reunion of past lovers.
Finally, Minho went to Chan.
He didn’t beg. He had no right to.
He simply pressed a piece of paper into Chan’s hand and walked away, leaving pieces of his broken heart.
Chapter Text
The chime greeted him like it usually did. Except this time, it felt unbearably empty.
Chan stepped inside the bookstore and the stillness hit him like a wall. It still looked the same. The shelves stood untouched. The books are still in their own place. But it feels like something important had drained from the air. There were no more quiet mutterings from the corner. No more sarcastic comments thrown his way. No more warm presence pretending not to wait for him.
There was just silence.
The silence weighed heavily on his shoulders. It did not feel empty, instead it felt… absent . As if Minho had taken something with him when he left. As if he had been trying to leave no trace.
The emptiness spoke louder than any goodbye.
Chan sighed and opened all the lights and air conditioner before he headed to the counter. The counter that once was cluttered with Minho’s unusual choices of books and coffee cups was now clean. Except for a small piece of crumpled paper he casually tossed in a corner after that night.
Chan stared at the paper like it was a ticking time bomb. He never touched it since the night he first received it. He just casually tossed it in there, but it carried an unbearable weight.
It was Jaewon’s contact details.
He could see Jaewon’s familiar name peeking and a string of numbers he couldn’t make out from his seat.
It was only a small piece of paper and anyone else would’ve thought it was trash, but it was a link to his past. A past he had spent years grieving, missing, and longing for.
Now it was right in front of him.
But he doesn’t know what to do.
Should I meet him?
Do I even want to?
For days, Chan couldn’t sleep. His mind refused to rest. It was running the same questions over and over again. Questions he couldn’t find answers to.
He was in disbelief.
Amnesia.
It sounds like it came from a bad drama.
But the ache in Minho’s voice and the guilt in his eyes that haunted his mind says otherwise.
He was angry. At Minho, definitely. But not only with him. Chan was also angry at himself. At Jaewon. And with the universe for playing such a cruel game with them.
For years, Chan believed Jaewon abandoned him. Like he was just disposable. Chan built his current life around that wound. But now that he knows that Jaewon did not actually leave him, should he reconsider his scars? Would they miraculously disappear now?
No.
Fate must’ve inevitably taken Jaewon away from Chan, but that doesn’t erase the pain of those empty years.
It also doesn’t erase the trace Minho left in him.
Every time Chan thinks about Jaewon these days, another face slips into his mind.
Minho.
Chan doesn’t really know how to feel about him.
Minho smiling at him with his usual annoying smug. Minho teasing him over his stubbornness.
He’s in rage at him. Minho knew. He knew everything but he keeps showing up to laugh at him.
Minho handing him a heating pack, concern hidden behind his casual act.
That’s what hurt him the most. Minho cared.
He should’ve hated Minho from the start. But Minho made him feel again. He showed him light, even when the light came from the shadows.
“I’m sorry. Please forget about these past months I bothered you. I wish you two the best.” Minho’s voice trembling as he left with those words.
Chan doesn’t remember what Minho’s face looked like that night. He never looked at Minho even until he left.
He pushed his thoughts down. Hard.
Minho lied to him. That’s what’s important.
Chan’s head hurts. His chest is heavy. He is too tired. He just wants to cut both Jaewon and Minho out from his life and to move on freely by himself.
He just wants to let go now.
But the truth lingered inside him, as if desperate to be set free even though he wasn’t ready to face it.
Chan wasn’t ready to forgive. Not yet.
But this silence was too much to bear.
The truth is cruel but he needs to know about it. He needs to know to see the people it broke, and also maybe the ones trying to mend it.
Chan has to meet Jaewon. If only to get the closer he never had.
The cafe was quiet. It was tucked in a corner of the city neither of them belonged to anymore. It was Jaewon’s idea. He wants to meet somewhere far enough from their past. A neutral ground.
Chan sat by the window, fingers wrapped tightly around the glass that had long gone diluted with melted ice. He wasn’t sure what to expect. How do you even face the person who forgot you?
The bell above the cafe’s door chimed. It sounded slightly different than the bookstore’s, but his brain produced the image of a familiar smug face.
Chan turned his head towards where the sound came from, half expecting to see the person he imagined. But his breath got caught.
It wasn’t Minho.
It was Jaewon.
Chan couldn’t believe how he never realized Minho was related to Jaewon. They had the same defined jawlines, high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. Except Minho’s nose was straight and refined, and his lips are full, almost always looking like he’s pouting. And his stares felt like how a cat gazes at something interesting, shifting effortlessly between playful mischief and sharp intensity.
Chan’s thoughts were pulled back to reality when he heard footsteps coming closer to him. He looked up and he saw Jaewon walking towards him.
Jaewon looked almost the same. A little older, maybe. His hair was neater than Chan remembered. Still has that gentle presence. But there was a hesitation in his eyes. Like he was trying to recognize someone he knew he should know but couldn’t.
“Chan,” Jaewon said softly. Like he wasn’t sure how that name felt in his tongue.
Chan stood, nodding stiffly. “Hi.”
They sat down across from each other. Silence stretched between them for a while. Not exactly uncomfortable, but… fragile. Like anything could break it.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Jaewon admitted. His fingers fidgeting with the rim of his coffee cup.
“I wasn’t sure either.”
There was a pause. Then Jaewon looked up, gazing at Chan’s face carefully.
“I’ve seen you before.”
Chan was confused. He didn’t know where his words were leading to. But he kept quiet and let Jaewon continue.
“Not in real life. In my dreams, I think. But I didn’t know it was you.” he paused and added, “I didn’t even know it was real.”
Chan’s chest tightened.
“I’d wake up feeling like… something was missing. Someone. But I could never remember who.” He laughed a little but it sounded hollow. “I thought that maybe it was something my brain just made up. Like it was just trying to fill in the gaps.”
Chan stared at the man who once held his entire world in his warm embrace.
“You used to love strawberry milk,” Chan said, his voice quiet.
Jaewon blinked. “Still do.”
“You hated musicals but you still watch them anyway because I begged you.”
Jaewon’s smile faltered, his brows furrowing.
“We had a lot of late-night walks. And we always end up arguing over who walks outside of the sidewalk just because we both didn’t want the other walking near the road.”
“Did we?” Jaewon asked, his voice nearly a whisper.
Chan nodded. “You were good to me. I realized exactly how much only after you were gone.”
“I didn’t mean to leave you.”
“I know… At least I know now.”
“I wish I remembered.”
Chan’s throat tightened and he blinked fast. “Me, too.”
They sat in silence again. The weight of everything unsaid filling the space between them. Jaewon looked down at his coffee, as if trying to find pieces of their past in the swirl of cream.
“I’m sorry,” Jaewon suddenly said. “Even if I don’t remember, I’m sorry for what you had to go through.”
Chan bit the inside of his cheek. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But it still happened.”
“Yeah,” Chan breathed. “It did.”
And then after a long pause, Jaewon asked, “Do you still love me?”
Chan didn’t answer right away.
His heart ached. Not because of longing, but with the sadness for a love that could have been but didn’t really make it.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I think a part of me still does. Or maybe I just love the memory… I’m not really sure.”
Jaewon nodded.
He offered a small, bittersweet smile. “That’s okay. I think… maybe I’m not really the same person you loved anymore.”
Chan smiled back, feeling his heart a little bit more broken. “And maybe I’m not the same person who loved you, either.”
They met again. More than a couple times after.
At first, it was because they wanted to jog Jaewon’s memories and help him remember. Maybe if they spent more time together, things could return to what they once were. But every time they met… every time Jaewon smiled at him… every time they reminisced… It felt distant. Like he was watching something from behind glass.
But, recently, their meetings were more on the unspoken things that lingered. Like the need to walk through a familiar place one last time before letting go.
Jaewon texted first. Just a simple “Want to grab coffee?”
Chan said yes without overthinking it.
Their succeeding meetings were easier, not quite heavy. They talked about lighter things. About books, movies, and even some music that Jaewon had started listening to recently. Chan watched him carefully, noticing how different he was in small ways. Jaewon used to drink his coffee with a lot of sugar. Now it was black.
It wasn’t painful anymore. Not like the first meeting.
It was different.
And in that difference Chan found peace.
One evening, after another quiet meeting with Jaewon, Chan found himself walking back to the bookstore alone. It was his rest day, so he didn’t really have a reason to go there.
His mind was a mess.
We used to be everything to each other. But why does it feel like being with him feels like a memory instead of something real?
Then suddenly, an image flashed in his mind.
A teasing smirk and a voice laced with amusement.
“You don’t actually hate having me around, do you?”
Chan stopped walking.
His chest tightened.
Why? Why was it Minho who kept creeping into my thoughts?
The next time Chan met Jaewon, his mind was still in tangles. His eyes darker than usual, and his sighs heavier.
Jaewon noticed immediately. He always had a way of reading him too well.
Jaewon smiled at him knowingly. “You look like you’re overthinking something.”
Chan scoffed. “Since when do I not?”
Jaewon chuckles and tilts his head slightly.
“He hasn’t been visiting me as often.”
Chan blinked. “Who?”
“Minho.”
Chan’s stomach twisted. He had vaguely known it, but hearing it being confirmed made something inside him break.
Chan remained silent.
“How did you meet him?”
It was a question with nothing but curiosity.
At first, Chan hesitated to answer. But then, the memory of their first ridiculous encounter popped up in his head.
He laughed before he could even realize it.
“It was a mess. I thought he stole my book delivery.”
Chan started talking. He recounted every chaotic moment. How irritated he was about the smug look on his face, or the way he always loudly enters the bookstore. He talked about their arguments. The teasings. The unexpected kindness.
His voice grew lighter, more animated.
Chan didn’t even realize he was doing these, but Jaewon did.
When Chan looked up after a while of nonstop talking, he saw Jaewon smiling in a way that made him pause.
“You know, when you talk about the past with me, you sound… careful. Distant, almost.”
“What?” Chan asked, unsure if what he heard was right.
Jaewon answers him gently. “But when you talk about Minho, you come alive.”
Chan’s froze.
His head shook in denial but his heart whispered yes , like it had known all along.
Chapter Text
Jaewon leaned back, looking thoughtful.
“Minho… He was a cute kid. Really sweet, too. Even when our parents barely paid attention to him.”
Chan frowned. He had never really thought about what it must have been like for Minho growing up. In fact, he only thought of him as one lucky rich kid who gets spoiled all his life.
“I recently just remembered about cutting ties with our parents.” Jaewon paused. “I felt guilty… I have always felt guilty for leaving. I knew the pressure would fall on him. But I still did.”
Jaewon’s face was now plastered with a bittersweet smile. Chan could see the guilt on his eyes.
“I got selfish again. And he didn’t even resent me one bit. He just cheered me on. My sweet little brother.”
Then he sighed.
“But you know what? Recently I noticed something.”
“...What?” Chan asked cautiously. He found himself really curious.
“He started smiling more. He looked… alive.”
Chan’s heart clenched.
“When I asked him if he was seeing someone though, he was both sorrowful and fond.”
Chan swallowed hard.
“And then he told me… He recently met his childhood love again.”
Silence.
Chan could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.
“But he also said his childhood love wasn’t ready to let anyone else in yet.”
Something in Chan shattered. He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who this childhood love Jaewon was talking about, but something in him was telling him this wasn’t unrelated to him.
“Minho has always chosen my happiness over his own. His whole life.” Jaewon’s voice cracked.
Then he looked at Chan, his gaze soft but knowing.
“If… If the accident never happened… Do you think we would be happy now?”
Chan opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought back to the past they once shared before. There were a lot of happy memories between them. They pushed through life together with their smiles. They're also accomplished a lot of things together.
But that’s not everything that they shared.
There were fights.
And also their fading love.
Chan remembered the last two years they were together. They were both achieving so much at the same time that they could barely have time for each other left. There have been many anniversaries and birthdays that were missed. Too many words are being left unsaid. Too many problems stacking on top of another.
The dinner they were supposed to have the night of the accident was something they planned to put effort into saving what was left of their relationship. But even that was stolen from them.
What he had with Jaewon precious enough for them to not be able to let go, but was hurtful enough for them to hold on to.
But Chan knows now.
Jaewon smiled, as if he already knew the answer.
“Would you do me a favor, Chan?”
“...What?”
“Please take care of Minho.”
Chan sat in his bookstore long after meeting with Jaewon. He was staring at nothing as his mind raced. He played every moment, every conversation, and every single second he had spent with Minho.
Everywhere he looked in his bookstore, there were memories of Minho left there.
The teasing, their banters, and even their quiet moments.
The stupid heating pack. The way he still lingered even after multiple times of being kicked out. The way he never forced Chan to talk about his past after their first fight. Minho was always just there, listening when he did.
That’s when Chan realized.
“I love him.”
It wasn’t a slow realization. It was sudden. It was obvious. And frustratingly clear.
It felt like something that had been in front of him this whole time, but he was just too blind to see it.
His heart thudded in his chest.
And then
“Wait… I don’t even have his number.”
A pause.
Then full-blown panic.
How had he never noticed this before? They’ve already known each other for months but they never have exchanged their numbers?
Minho knew everything about him. His habits. His past. His bookstore. Even the fact that he lost his parents at the same time back when he was still in middle school.
But what did Chan know about Minho?
Nothing.
Just that his name is Lee Minho. And he’s the brother of his ex-lover.
He doesn’t even know his number.
Not even the fact that the room at the top of the building wasn’t his real home.
A heavy sinking realization hit him. Minho had always been watching from the background. Always listening, always supporting, always there. But never once did he demand anything for himself.
Chan clenched his fists. He has to find him.
“Where is he?” Chan’s voice was gentle, but also desperate.
Jaewon was silent for a moment and then sighed at the other side of the line.
“He’s probably at our childhood home right now.”
Chan froze.
“Your childhood home?” He never heard about this from Jaewon before, much less from Minho. He always thought they lived at the heart of Seoul.
“Yeah. It’s a little outside the city. We moved out of it ages ago but he stayed there by himself. I’m sure he doesn’t have a lot of good memories in that house. But I think he’s got enough good memories to stay there.”
“...Please send me the address.”
Chan’s breath hitched.
That was impossible.
The moment he saw it, his heart pounded. He knew this place.
This was the same town he had lived in and grown up on before his parents died.
This was where he had spent the happiest days as a child.
And suddenly, memories flooded his mind. Blurry images of a shy boy laughing and running through the streets while holding his hand.
“No way…”
Chan followed the address. It was familiar, but a lot of things have already changed. He hasn’t been back in this town since he left a decade ago. It held too many happy memories for him. And those happy memories just hurt him before, but now that he’s back, he had wished he came back earlier.
But it was not the time to reminisce about those memories right now.
He has to find Minho.
Because he needed answers Minho hadn’t given. Because he needed to look at him and ask why . Why hide? Why leave? And why still linger in his mind even now?
On his way, he saw a familiar playground. His feet stopped on its own.
The playground was empty.
A quiet field, rusted monkey bars, and peeling paint on the old swing sets. But behind the low plastic slide was a figure of a hunched man.
Minho.
Minho sat alone with his knees tucked up, looking very lost.
He was staring blankly at the empty playground in front of him. His hair was messy. His hoodie too big for him. Gone was the teasing smirk. Gone was the confident glow. His eyes were red, tired and hollow. As if he spent hours crying.
And when he finally looked up with eyes of disbelief, Chan felt it.
That tug. That unbearable recognition.
“I grew up around here too, you know.”
Chan quietly approached. Minho turned away from him, still unmoving from his spot.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Minho’s voice flat.
Chan didn’t respond. He simply crouched beside Minho and leaned his back to the plastic slide.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Just two people staring at the empty playground, lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Chan broke the silence.
“I used to play here a lot. I had a friend, too. Some kid I met one day at a street fair.” Chan recalled the first time he met Minho. His lips stretched to a small smile, noting how Minho tensed up at his words. “We would usually meet here. We played together for weeks.”
Minho said nothing, just sat and listened.
“Then I got into an accident.” Minho’s fingers curled slightly around his legs. “I told you about my parents dying in an accident, right? I was with them, but I survived. They died protecting me.” Chan paused, he could feel a lump on his throat. But he pushed it down. “After that, I was taken to an orphanage and I never saw him again.”
Chan smiled softly. “I almost forgot about him completely.” Then he turned to Minho. “Until today.”
Minho slowly looked up, confusion in his eyes.
“It’s nice to meet you again, Minmin.” His voice was gentle and his soft smile was directed at his long lost friend.
Minho’s eyes widened. He froze.
Minmin.
No one else except the young Chan called him that. He was not close with anyone for them to call him any nicknames, but Chan suddenly called him that one day and never stopped using it until the last day they played together.
“You…remember?” He whispered, afraid that he was just mishearing things.
Chan nodded. “I was slow, but I’m finally back.”
For the first time since Chan arrived, hope flickered in Minho’s eyes.
After a long moment of silence and just staring, Minho finally spoke.
“What about Jaewon-hyung?” His voice full of cautiousness.
Chan sighed. ‘We talked. A lot. But he still doesn’t remember much. And…that’s okay.”
Minho frowned, worried. “Are you okay?” His eyes, searching Chan’s face, as if looking for disappointment and sorrow.
Chan blinked.
This idiot.
Even now, after everything, the first thing he cared about was him?
“Are you seriously worrying about me right now?” Chan asked, exasperated.
“What?” Minho was genuinely confused with Chan’s words.
“What do you want, Minho? You keep talking about what’s best for Jaewon, what’s best for me… but what about you? What do you want?”
Chan’s sudden question surprised him.
Minho hesitated. His gaze dropped on the ground.
“Have you ever thought about your happiness?” Chan asked, his voice gentler now.
Silence.
“It’s okay to be selfish. You deserve to be selfish. So, for once, just be selfish.” Chan begged him.
Something inside Minho cracked. His whole life, he had always chosen others over himself. His brother. His family. Even Chan.
He doesn’t regret doing any of it though. He still believes that what he did was for the best.
But now… now someone was asking him to choose himself.
And that terrified him.
Silence stretched between them. Minho’s fingers clenched around his legs harder, his knuckles turning white.
Chan insisted gently, “What do you really want right now?”
Minho opened his mouth. His instinct told him to deflect. To say something vague and just brush it off. But Chan leaned closer, unrelenting.
“Tell me the truth.”
Minho exhaled shakily. His walls were crumbling. Piece by piece.
His voice soft and broken when he said, “I… I want to be happy.”
Chan smiled. It was warm, soft and something that made Minho’s chest ache.
“Then stay by my side.”
Minho’s breath hitched.
“Let me love you.”
For a moment, Minho just stared at him, stunned. Then slowly, finally, he smiled.
And this time, it was real.
Chapter Text
Minho didn’t speak at first. He just stared at the chipped edge of the plastic slide, his feet digging into the cold grass beneath them. The playground was quiet except for the occasional chirp of the birds settling in tree branches to rest for the night, as well as the creak of the old swing set swaying gently in the breeze.
They were tucked behind the plastic slide, hidden just enough for them to feel apart from the world. It was the same spot Minho used to run to when he missed Chan and he wanted to escape their house. A place he runs to when he doesn’t want to be found because he was too scared or too sad to go home.
Funnily enough, he was back here again. This time it was not to disappear, but to be found.
Minho could feel Chan’s presence behind him. His knees were also drawn up, arms resting loosely over them. He doesn’t say anything. He’s not pushing him. He doesn’t fill the silence.
He just waited.
Minho did not know what to do with that.
He’s used to people walking away. Used to staying behind. Used to always be the first one to let go before anyone else could hurt him. But now, someone stayed. Someone asked him to choose. Someone asked him what he wanted.
And he didn’t have an answer.
His voice cracked as he whispered, “I… don’t know how to do this.”
“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” Chan didn’t hesitate.
And hearing that, Minho felt something inside him loosened. He let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. And for the first time in years, it didn’t feel like the world was closing in on him.
It was opening and welcoming him.
Later that night, they walked the short path from the playground to a huge house surrounded by nothing but a desolate and overgrown garden. Vines were climbing the front wall like it hasn’t been maintained for years.
Minho didn’t really care much about how the house looked like before. He doesn’t have an attachment to it. He just needed a place to stay in this town, in case a miracle happens and his childhood love comes back.
And he did.
He came looking especially for him.
Minho inserted the key to the main door and it creaked. Inside, it was quiet, dusty, and cold. Minho never really liked coming in here, but as soon as he stepped over the threshold with Chan this time, something warm stirred in his chest. Like coming home for the first time.
Chan didn’t seem all that curious and instead, he asked Minho where his room was. Minho hesitated for a bit before he walked towards his room, with Chan following behind him.
It was the room at the end of the hallway on the second floor. It was the room that looked like it was randomly tucked in the corner and forgotten. It was the same room he’s had since he was young.
Minho never intended to use the other rooms for himself, after all. He also never changed anything about his room. It looked the same as when he left before serving in the military.
When he opened the door, he nervously stepped in and let Chan in, too.
Chan looked around the small room curiously. His eyes wandered from the walls covered with posters of musicals from almost decade ago, to the shelves that was full of DVDs of movies and musical films of different languages.
He turned his head towards Minho who was still lingering by the door and asked with an obvious excitement, “Do you like musicals?”
Minho nodded hesitantly. “I used to be. Haven’t watched any in years, though.”
Chan’s grin widened, his excitement almost impossible to hide. “Then, you’re in luck. I’m officially appointing myself your musical guide.” He winked. “You’ve got a lot to catched up on.”
Minho blinked at Chan’s playful declaration. “My musical guide,” he repeated under his breath. The corners of his lips twitching.
It was strange. He was feeling warmth blooming in his chest. The room hadn’t changed much since he was a teenager, but it felt different now. It wasn’t a place left frozen in time anymore.
Before he could get lost in nostalgia, Chan suddenly cleared his throat. “I booked a room down the street earlier.” His tone is gentle. “Just in case you needed space tonight.”
Minho slightly panicked. “Wait… you’re not staying?”
Chan stepped closer and held Minho’s hands. He gently squeezed them and said, “Stay here for the night. I’ll be back in the morning.”
The silence that followed settled heavily on them.
“You’re leaving me alone?”
A teasing smirk tugged at Chan’s lips but his voice remained soft and steady. “I’m giving you space. But I’ll be back. I’m not going anywhere.”
Minho’s throat tightened. There were a dozen things he wanted to say.
Stay. Don’t go. I don’t want to be alone tonight.
But Chan squeezed his hands again, as if to reassure him.
Minho nodded.
He watched Chan leave until he couldn’t see his back anymore.
And he stood there, alone. But the silence this time did not feel like abandonment. For the first time in years, he wasn’t afraid of being left behind.
Because someone had promised to return.
And Minho believes him.
Minho hadn’t really slept much.
It wasn’t because of anxiety, but because his head replayed what happened that day, as well as everything else that happened in the past.
He thought about Chan’s question.
“What do you want?”
He spent most of the night thinking about the answer to this, losing so much time for sleep.
But when the ring of the old rusty doorbell rang early the next morning, Minho didn’t hesitate.
He opened the door and blinked at the figure standing there, holding two takeout cups and a paper bag cradled in his arms.
Chan didn’t look out of place. In fact, he looked like he had done this a hundred times before. Like showing up at Minho’s door was just… natural. As if being here was the most familiar thing in the world.
“You actually came back,” Minho asked, his voice still rough from sleep.
Chan raised a brow. “Of course I did.”
Minho looked down at the coffee handed to him. It was lighter than what he usually had. He didn’t even like sugar anymore.
“I’m not used to that,” he muttered.
Chan’s eyes softened. “Get used to it.”
It wasnn’t a grand moment. Nor was it life-changing. It was just… quiet.
But for Minho, something definitely changed.
This was what staying looked like.
The days that followed were strange. Not really bad. Just unfamiliar.
Minho didn’t know how to exist in someone else’s life. He was used to living like a ghost for so long, just lurking in the background and watching. Never stepping forward.
And Chan… Chan spent years grieving a love that no longer existed. He was learning how to let someone in again, slowly. Carefully.
Still, they both stayed.
They met up for meals. Walked together. They visited the places they once shared memories with. They talked about everything and nothing. It was kinda awkward sometimes. Long pauses and misread silences happened but neither of them ran.
They didn’t talk about Jaewon much. Didn’t talk about the years that broke them. Not yet. But they really didn’t need to.
One afternoon, as they crossed the street, Chan reached out and instinctively grabbed Minho’s wrist. He pulled him back just as a motorbike zipped past them.
Minho’s froze.
He didn’t pay attention to the road and was focused on something far ahead of them.
Chan didn’t say anything. He just scolded him gently with a look before letting go.
And in that brief contact, Minho felt something settled deep in his chest.
This was real.
This wasn’t something he was willing to give up for someone.
This. Being here with Chan. It is something he could finally choose for himself . And no one else’s.
After a few more days, they went back to Seoul. Back to the quiet neighborhood where the tiny bookstore was. Back to the place where they first met each other again.
They sat outside the bookstore one evening. They watched the golden haze of the sunset disappear over the rooftops. Minho’s coffee was growing cold in his hands, untouched. Chan sat next to him, unusually quiet.
“I want to be happy,” Minho suddenly said. His voice barely audible with the sound of the passing cars.
Chan turned to him with a warm smile on his lips. “Then let’s be happy.”
Minho swallowed hard.
He was terrified.
Of ruining things. Of not knowing how to love properly. Of being too much. Too broken.
But Chan reached out to him. Slowly and carefully. Fingers brushing over his until they laced together.
And Minho held on.
Like it was the first thing he’d ever chosen for himself.
Because it was.
Chapter 10: Epilogue
Chapter Text
The bookstore had changed.
It used to be tucked quietly at a corner of alleyways and old buildings. But now, it was filled with the gentle hum of conversations and the soft clinking of coffee cups. A newly opened cafe was added as part of the extension of the bookstore. It occupied all of the ground floor of the building. Sunlight poured through the tall windows onto the pages of books and steam from the cups.
Chan stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up. He was carefully arranging a display of poetry collections beside trays of freshly baked cookies. The soft jazz in the background was his playlist. The playlist made up of tracks he had kept hidden in the depths of his laptop never to see the light of the day. Until Minho found it and pestered him into playing it one day, and now got stuck on loop in the store.
Then there were the potted plants by the window. It was all Minho’s doing. He chose each one after way too many debates about which would “vibe better with existential romance novels.”
Chan turned his head towards the old reading nook. Minho was, as expected there. He was lounging on his favorite couch, pretending to be immersed in a book but failing spectacularly as his gaze kept drifting to Chan.
It was a familiar sight now. Minho with his sleeves rolled up, glasses sliding down his nose and the signature white specks of flour somewhere on his body. Surprisingly, Minho was good at making deserts and cooking anything. They only found out just before they decided to open the cafe. Minho declared jokingly that he’ll be in-charge of the food and Chan with the drinks. And when he finally tried his hands on baking, he just wasn’t able to stop himself anymore. He’d end up creating something weird at least once a week because of his experiments. But it all would turn out good.
Chan flashed a smile at Minho from across the room and, in response, Minho beamed back at him with his childish grin.
Chan was happy. Minho wasn’t hiding anymore. Not from Chan. Not from himself.
And their regulars? They notice everything. They had always been there to witness the tension, the quiet longing, and the not-so-subtle glances. Now, they laugh along as the two of them bicker and flirt with each other.
Jaewon drops by sometimes.
He still doesn’t remember most of the memories that disappeared, or the love that he once shared with Chan. But he remembered enough to smile when he walked through the door, greeted with a warm drink and Minho’s tired groan at his teasing.
“Still haven’t scared him off yet, huh?” Jaewon grinned, nudging Minho.
“He likes my cooking,” Minho would mutter, eyes glancing toward Chan like it explains everything.
Jaewon smiles softly at his little brother and his ex-lover.
He doesn’t force himself to remember anything anymore. Because maybe the past didn’t need to come back. And that maybe happiness could come without every piece falling into place.
Jaewon often stayed late, chatting with Chan. They shared their dreams and places they wanted to see now that they are living their own lives in their own terms.
And when he caught Minho smiling softly at Chan across the room, Jaewon would shake his head and mutter, “You’re smiling a lot more these days.”
Minho rolled his eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”
Jaewon chuckled and sipped his coffee.
“I’m glad. You deserve this.”
Minho doesn’t respond immediately. But when he glanced over at Chan, watching him fuss over their displays of weird and mismatched mugs, he smiles. Soft and full of warm.
One night, after they had dinner outside, Minho and Chan walked home together. The night air was cool and the city lights casted a soft glow over them.
For the first time in a long time, neither of them were carrying weights of the past on their shoulders. They were free and light.
At some point, Chan reached out and took Minho’s hand without hesitation. Minho squeezed back.
“You know, you never officially asked me to be your boyfriend,” Minho said, smirking.
Chan replied, mocking surprise. “Oh? And here I thought you were already mine.”
“Cocky.”
“Confident.”
Minho rolled his eyes but he was grinning.
“Then, why don’t you ask me?” Chan’s voice was softer now.
Chan stopped walking and turned to fully face him. People and cars moved around them, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of them in the world.
“Stay with me.”
Minho smiled, finally feeling at peace. “I already am.”
Then with their fingers laced together and faces filled with content, they went back to their home. Their home that is small but filled with everything they once thought they had lost. THe home where they have quiet joys, shared routines, and a love that may not have been built on perfect beginnings, but on honest second chances.
The lies they once told to protect and to survive no longer held power.
They had been rewritten.
And this time, the ending was entirely their own.
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18_Months_Promise on Chapter 3 Wed 09 Apr 2025 12:23PM UTC
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oh_my_otp on Chapter 3 Thu 10 Apr 2025 11:37PM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Apr 2025 12:08AM UTC
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oh_my_otp on Chapter 4 Mon 14 Apr 2025 10:01PM UTC
Last Edited Mon 14 Apr 2025 10:01PM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 4 Mon 14 Apr 2025 10:24PM UTC
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Hdkaiayz16 on Chapter 5 Wed 09 Apr 2025 09:33AM UTC
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oh_my_otp on Chapter 5 Mon 14 Apr 2025 10:08PM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 5 Mon 14 Apr 2025 10:25PM UTC
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Beekity on Chapter 6 Sat 05 Apr 2025 09:48AM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 6 Sat 05 Apr 2025 11:42AM UTC
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Jst on Chapter 6 Sun 06 Apr 2025 11:14AM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 6 Sun 06 Apr 2025 11:42AM UTC
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iNeedMinsung on Chapter 6 Mon 07 Apr 2025 01:29PM UTC
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Hdkaiayz16 on Chapter 6 Wed 09 Apr 2025 09:39AM UTC
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18_Months_Promise on Chapter 6 Wed 09 Apr 2025 12:40PM UTC
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Hea_Stay on Chapter 6 Thu 10 Apr 2025 02:13AM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 6 Thu 10 Apr 2025 03:08AM UTC
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oh_my_otp on Chapter 6 Mon 14 Apr 2025 10:19PM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 6 Mon 14 Apr 2025 10:27PM UTC
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iNeedMinsung on Chapter 7 Mon 07 Apr 2025 11:56PM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 7 Tue 08 Apr 2025 02:11AM UTC
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iNeedMinsung on Chapter 8 Tue 08 Apr 2025 08:21AM UTC
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Lennynyny on Chapter 8 Tue 08 Apr 2025 11:01AM UTC
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Beekity on Chapter 8 Tue 08 Apr 2025 11:35AM UTC
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Hdkaiayz16 on Chapter 8 Wed 09 Apr 2025 09:46AM UTC
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Beekity on Chapter 10 Wed 09 Apr 2025 04:57AM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 10 Wed 09 Apr 2025 05:19AM UTC
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iNeedMinsung on Chapter 10 Wed 09 Apr 2025 07:28AM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 10 Wed 09 Apr 2025 08:16AM UTC
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AwkwardLittlePringle on Chapter 10 Wed 09 Apr 2025 10:55AM UTC
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KwinMimo (minchansluts4eo) on Chapter 10 Wed 09 Apr 2025 01:11PM UTC
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