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Yunho could still remember the exact moment he was slipped out of the fancy tin box that had been his home for much of his early life.
It had been such a small delight to him back then, finally being out of his box, especially once he gained the presence of mind to know the who, and the where, and the why, his eyes going wide as he looked around at his new surroundings with a whole new perspective. He just wanted to understand and experience everything.
His owner had placed him on a shelf high above the mantle of his fireplace with a smile, Yunho sitting amidst their collection of other small trinkets, and Yunho remembered mentally thanking them for giving him the most amazing vantage point to look out at all four corners of the room.
Delightful, his — he supposed, brain (do tin soldiers have brains?) — mind would supply for him, absolutely delightful, as he curiously turned his head up, down, left, and then right when his owner left the room, taking in as much of the shiny, new outside as he could muster.
He was pretty sure he was a soldier, at least, that was what his owner had mentioned once, but that was neither here nor there from his perch on the shelf.
Getting to know what he looked like took a little longer, a few months in fact, but Yunho had been delighted to find out that his hair was actually painted dark brown, while most of his body was coated a bright cherry red, with his more intricate details — a sash, medals, the dangly chains along his chest — mostly done in black, gold, and silver paints, and a few shiny golden beads. His feet were painted black, to signify boots
His eyes were apparently brown as well, though the painter must have dripped a few too many white dots onto his irises than what was required — a minor mistake, his owner had shrugged, explaining Yunho to their friends — giving him that perpetual starry gaze.
His cheeks were stained pink and his lips were painted in the same cherry red.
He liked the fact that he was so shiny and new, puffing his chest up proudly as he sat on the center of the mantle, seemingly unable to look away from his brightly painted jacket and shiny black boots for more than a few minutes at a time. He supposed he liked how he looked as well, though he hardly had anyone to compare himself to, as there seemed to be no one else like him in the entire room.
The closest one he could think of to compare to was the painted image of a prince on a tin cup, his image splashed along the side of the cup that faced Yunho, his profile surrounded by pretty white, yellow, and pink flowers. He was the tin soldier’s usual companion, whenever the prince would deign to grace his portrait, instead of enjoying the rest of his surroundings beyond what the soldier could see from his painting.
The prince was pretty, he thought, for a painting. He had pink hair, dark eyes, and a straight nose, but Yunho really wouldn’t consider it a good comparison to himself, because Seonghwa was not a…figure.
But still, he was nice, and his friendship with Yunho had been good enough to keep the soldier’s attention occupied, at least for the first few years.
As the days stretched on, though, a new feeling began to creep up on Yunho, slowly wrapping him in its tendrils, until he realized too late just how tangled he had become in its clutches, unable to escape from it no matter how much he tried. He could feel it in the spaces between his limbs, in the area around his chest, creeping into his moments of delight and curiosity, twisting those small bouts of joy into frustration, as it whispered into his ear how incomplete, how unimportant, how small, it thought of all the things that currently encompassed Yunho’s life. It left a bitter taste in Yunho’s painted mouth, this new feeling, especially when the days where he sat and waited on his shelf day, after day, after day, started to drag on.
Suddenly, being the new toy on shelf, with his shiny red coat and starry eyes, was not enough.
And having Seonghwa around to talk to and interact with, though infrequent and at random times, was not enough.
So…lonely, his mind had supplied for him one day, as he frowned at the same spot on the patterned wall opposite him for what seemed like hours.
He didn’t know why he felt that way, especially because he was a mere toy and had spent most of his early days in a box, but he did.
Sometimes he would lament for his early days of naivety, for his previously untainted moments of unbridled joy and boundless curiosity, wondering bitterly to himself if he would ever be able to feel any of that again, even as he began to gather cobwebs and dust on the shelf he perched on, both figuratively and literally.
It got worse, the longer he sat, almost becoming fully inanimate as the loneliness began to fester and expand in his chest, like imaginary rust lapping at his heels, refusing to be removed. At some point, he stopped talking altogether, choosing instead to just stare silently at the opposite wall for days upon days on end. Days stretched into weeks, into months, into years.
Seonghwa got so worried, sometimes even tried to coax Yunho out from under his stupor, but he almost always failed. After a few more years dragged on, he simply let him be.
Yunho hadn’t been sentient in a long time, when a new porcelain figure — this one more comparable to Yunho, and yet more beautiful and delicate in his smoother curves and intensely painted features — was placed on the windowsill just inside his field of vision. He could feel the moment some of the haze in his mind started to dissipate as his eyes happened upon the brilliant red hair of the new figure, the gears in his head turning when he said to himself, ‘Like me…they’re like me, red like me,’
And then he blinked for the first time in a long time, feeling relief course through him, chasing away the vast chasm of loneliness that had all but taken over his entire chest for so long. The abrupt change almost made him fall from the mantle shelf in shock. His eyes started to blink faster and in more rapid successions as he looked around, taking note of how not a lot had changed since he went into his stupor. However, that was before he looked down at himself and cringed at how dirty and dull he had become.
He flinched when Seonghwa suddenly appeared in his frame and squealed, unused to too much sensory input as he eased his way back to his previous level of normalcy, but the painted prince had merely smiled and apologized before greeting him with a very timely, ‘Welcome back, soldier,’
He had replied with a nod and a slant smile for his oldest friend, who looked satisfied before he once again disappeared beyond his frame.
Sighing at the state of his being, Yunho started to remove as much of the cobwebs and dust on himself as he could, his barely used limbs creaking and whining in the quiet room.
Only when he was done did he train his eyes back on the beautiful figure that had woken him from his stupor as Yunho marveled at his red hair and the white and silver curls that decorated his body.
When their owner started winding the key at the base of the porcelain figure’s feet, unleashing a pretty melody, Yunho felt delight for the first time in what seemed like eons, his painted lips curving into a smile as he enjoyed the sweet melody.
And then his delight made way for something akin to shock when the figure began to twirl atop his box. He had never seen someone dance before.
It was spellbinding, watching the figure twirl and twirl and twirl to the pretty song.
He had an arm above his head and another outstretched in front of him, his lean body balancing on one leg connected to the base of the box on pointed toes. The dancer’s other leg was raised as well, though in a separate direction from his arm, and stretched out as far as it could go.
His delicate tutu, the only thing not made of porcelain, rustled as he turned.
Yunho found himself unable to look away, something that sounded like a thump beating in his chest for the first time.
Seonghwa had laughed as he watched him one day. When Yunho asked why he was laughing, the painted prince merely said, ‘Oh because you’re in love, Yunho, and I find that delightful!’
‘Love?’ He had replied, his brows furrowing at the unfamiliar term.
‘Loveee,’ Seonghwa droned out, ‘That feeling that makes your chest go thump, thump, thump for someone special. It’s called love!’
Thump thump thump? Yunho glanced back at the twirling ballerina, feeling that exact thing that Seonghwa just described in his chest, the sound somewhat metallic as it bounced along the confines of his tin body. He didn’t hear what Seonghwa said next as he once again got too engrossed at watching the figure twirl. He also didn’t realize when the pink haired man disappeared into his land once more, a light chuckle on his lips as he shook his head.
It would take Yunho a while to find out that the dancer’s name was Mingi. But as the melodic name entered his ears, he felt himself smile. It was such a pretty name. A pretty name for a beautiful ballerina.
Everything about the other figure was also that – pretty.
The thump thump thumps in his chest started to get faster when, one fateful day, he actually managed to catch Mingi’s eye.
He had lovely eyes, Yunho thought that day, as he watched Mingi twirl for the umpteenth time, before his thoughts trailed to a stop as their gazes met.
And when those dark orbs didn’t leave Yunho’s fixed gaze, even as Mingi twirled and twirled around on his box, catching Yunho’s eyes again and again at each turn, the thumping gave way for what sounded like hammering in his chest. He wondered if the dancer could hear it.
Then the pouty lips on the ballerina’s face that were painted a blushy pink curved up into a smile, his eyes still focused on the red tin man.
Yunho raised a hand to clutch at his chest as it began to ache with how full it felt, even as he scrambled to smile back.
It burned. Love burned, hotter than the hottest ember in the fireplace below his shelf.
The hammering never dissipated again after that day, and neither did the acute sensation of his…heart (do tin soldiers have hearts?) becoming too heavy for his chest.
He asked Seonghwa for help, again.
‘You should tell him,’
Yunho’s already wide eyes got even wider, ‘Tell him?’
The painted prince nodded, ‘Yes, just march over to him right now and tell him that you love him,’
‘March up and tell — Seonghwa, I’m a tin soldier. A toy. Toys don’t just march up and tell other, prettier, toys that they love them,’
Seonghwa merely shrugged, his eyes and mind seemingly far away from Yunho and his predicaments when he replied, ‘I think that, most of the time, when there’s a will, there’s a way,’ he looked at Yunho, ‘You love him? Find a way,’
A way? Now what was Yunho supposed to do about that?
Turned out there was no way to be found, since a mere handful of days later, as the heavens cursed and cried and painted the world in dull tones of grey and purple, a strong gust of wind blew past the window on which his beloved was still perched, wrenching open the panes.
Yunho, who had been watching the porcelain doll as he usually did, heard the scream that ripped out of his throat before he could stop it, when Mingi got swept away in a flurry. The dancer caught his eye just before that, his own expression twisted into one of absolute terror as he lost his balance before falling out of sight.
Without thinking, Yunho got to his feet, his metal joints creaking and protesting at the strain from the prolonged disuse, and started sprinting down the edge of the shelf closest to the window.
From somewhere behind him, he heard Seonghwa shout him encouragements as he ran, ‘Go, Yunho, go get your ballerina! Godspeed!’
Leaping past the edge of the shelf and denting his side as he landed badly with a grunt was not enough to make him stop as he continued to scurry and stumble and trip until he was at the edge of the windowsill, watching with terrified eyes as his ballerina washed away with the flood, getting farther and farther away from him the more he waited.
He looked back into the safety of his owner’s home, where his perch on the shelf now laid bare, waiting for him to return. It was the only home he’d ever known. It was where he met the love of his life, as well as his only friend.
Yunho turned back to the flood, to the unknown, where his beloved had already flowed through.
He jumped, both feet hitting the water at the same time.
It was a long and arduous journey, dotted with so many misfortunes and wrong turns as he tried and tried and tried to make his way to his ballerina.
There were kids and a paper boat, almost getting his leg taken off in the process.
Then there was the devious rat in need of a personal soldier/slave.
And then, finally, who could forget the entirety of his trek through the Under Land tunnels, where Yunho mostly traveled so as not to interact with any more humans. It was smelly and disgusting and difficult to walk through, packed with all sorts of vermin who wanted a piece out of the shiny tin soldier’s most coveted treasure, which he had locked away safely within his chest.
It all culminated in the place where all lost things eventually went, in addition to everything that was ever thrown away. Yunho looked down at his make, taking note of the chipping red paint on his coat and the missing beads, the sludge caking along his knees. He wasn’t a shiny tin soldier anymore, but a warrior who had gone through hell. His dents attested to that.
He looked forward as his feet began to walk, his limbs much more agreeable now, than they had been when he first started this journey.
He trekked along the lost things, waded among the garbage, leaving no stone unturned, no mound unexplored. He puffed as he climbed above the taller mounds of trash, and gritted his teeth as he battled other lost figures that wanted to drag him back with them into their shadowy depths.
And then, finally, at the very top of the tallest mound amongst all the others, the porcelain glinted in the sunlight and caught his eye.
His eyes widened, his legs breaking into a run as he climbed up, up, up the enormous mound of forgotten things, each time getting closer and closer to the heartbreakingly familiar silhouette of his ballerina.
When he finally made it close enough to see the surprised expression on Mingi’s face, he screamed to the heavens in triumph, falling to his knees at the dancer’s feet.
He huffed in exhaustion (do tin soldiers get tired?) and hung his head low, trying to calm his still heavy heart that felt completely wrung out with the myriad of emotions it had gone through since he started this journey.
He knelt at Mingi’s feet for what seemed like centuries, and would have continued to do so, if not for a glassy hand cupping gently at his jaw a few days later. At least, he thought it was a few days later, the sun having risen and set a few times.
The hand guided his face up until his anomalous starry eyes finally met the sharper ones of his beautiful ballerina, the same pair of brown eyes that had left him spellbound all those years ago.
His heart started to hammer in his chest, something he hasn’t felt in a long time, as if it had never left.
Thump thump thump
Mingi looked just as banged up as Yunho felt, the years seemingly having been as unkind to him, as it had been for the tin soldier.
His hair, once the brilliant red that rivaled Yunho’s entire uniform on his head alone, had faded into a dull orange with the passing years.
His tutu was completely gone by the time Yunho found him, ripped off from where it was glued onto his waist and leaving behind bare legs that used to be painted white (like tights), but were now caked in sludge and blackened with grime.
The intricately painted silver curls around his torso that made up his outfit had begun to chip in some places, and had already completely rubbed off in others.
Yunho dropped his gaze to Mingi’s lips, those same lips that had smiled at him from across the room in their first home all those years ago. Most of the pink was intact, except for a spot on his upper lip where the paint had smudged and smeared up into Mingi’s cheek.
It didn’t matter though, Yunho thought, as he took in the entirety of his ballerina’s being, because Mingi was still the most breathtaking, most beautiful, figure the soldier had ever laid eyes on.
Mingi was still in his original dance position, the one he was in when Yunho first saw him, except that he had lowered his back to be able to reach for the tin soldier still kneeling at his feet.
When Yunho stood, his face still cupped in his beloved’s hand, the ballerina stood too, his own two feet perpetually pointed on their toes.
‘You came for me?’ The ballerina suddenly spoke, flooring Yunho with how deep his voice actually ran, making him fall in love all over again.
Yunho nodded, sighing in relief as he took the other’s hand in one of his.
Mingi’s brows furrowed, ‘Why?’
Why? He could feel his heart overflowing when he replied, with such fervor, ‘Because…I love you,’
‘Love?’ A slight frown graced Mingi’s face as he looked up earnestly into Yunho’s eyes, ‘What is…love?’
Yunho placed his free hand on top of his hammering chest, hitting it in time with the individual beats, the metal clang loud to his ears, ‘It’s when your heart goes thump thump thump for someone special. It’s called love,’ he explained with a smile, parroting the words from his old friend.
His ballerina raised his hand and pressed it to his own chest, his frown deepening. Yunho followed his gaze down.
He felt his painted mouth curve down into a frown as well as he looked at the cracked porcelain in his beloved’s chest, already gaping in places, giving him a view of the ballerina’s inner cavity.
Mingi’s hand was placed right at the biggest gape in his chest, ‘I don’t have a heart to go thump thump thump for you,’
Oh.
When he looked back at his ballerina’s face, Mingi looked devastated, though there were no tears in his sharp eyes (porcelain ballerinas don’t cry).
The hand still on his own chest reached across to rub a thumb at Mingi’s still pink cheeks, ‘It’s okay, I don’t mind that you don’t have a heart,’
But Mingi shook his head, swerving his face away from Yunho’s hold, his expression crestfallen as he hugged himself tighter with his arms, ‘But you came all this way, only for me not to have a heart,’ he clutched dejectedly at his chest.
Yunho worried his lip, not wanting his ballerina to be sad. It was supposed to be joyous day. They should both be…delighted. He perked up as an idea came to him, something he had discovered during his long, long journey, and kept safe ever since.
He stepped away from the ballerina and reached into the underside of his black boot, to the small carved-in space where a key had been jammed in as part of his modeling.
He uttered a delighted ‘aha!’ once he managed it, showing the mostly still shiny key to his (non) heartbroken beloved. Mingi blinked, staring at the key.
‘What does it open?’ He looked down at his base and key winder, ‘Or does it turn? Like my key?’
Yunho shook his head as he rubbed at his chest, finding that small, nondescript keyhole with the pads of his tin fingers. It almost matched where Mingi’s cracking chest was. He jammed the key into the keyhole when he found it, which was just as grimy and creaky as the rest of him. It took some effort, but he finally managed to open the small hatch in his chest and bring out the small beating glass heart to present it to his ballerina.
Mingi gasped, looking to Yunho for permission before cradling it in his hands. It went thump thump thump, ‘Yours?’
Yunho smiled and nodded. It was his most prized possession, one that he wanted no one else to own, except for Mingi.
Mingi smiled, ‘It’s beautiful, like you,’ he said as he deposited it back into Yunho’s hands, ‘I—I wish I had one too, to give you, but I don’t,’
Yunho turned away from Mingi then, inspecting their surroundings, before finding what it was he was looking for. He walked over, stretching his hand out for the sharp piece of rock on the floor.
He looked at Mingi, who returned his gaze with befuddlement. It turned to horror when Yunho placed his glass heart on the flattest surface he could find and raised his hand with the rock in it as high as he could go before piercing said heart right down the middle with the sharp tip, ‘What are you doing?!’
When he had successfully halved his glass heart, he looked up at his ballerina again, grasping the now two halves of his heart in both his hands.
He stretched out one hand, and placed one of the halves into Mingi’s hands. Mingi looked up from the half heart to the tin soldier who gave it to him.
‘You can have half,’ Yunho said matter-of-factly as he shrugged, placing his own half heart back into his hatch and locking it with the key. He placed the key back under his boot. He smiled as he clutched his chest, feeling lighter for the first time in years now that he’d shared his heart with the one he loved. He should have done it sooner.
When he turned, Mingi was still looking at him, his half of the heart still cradled gently in his hand, ‘I can’t…it’s yours, not mine,’
Yunho shook his head, ‘My heart has been yours the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m simply giving it to you now,’
His fingers curled around Mingi’s hand with the heart, guided it to his chest, and finally encouraged him to slot it through the largest gape in his cracked chest. Mingi gasped again once Yunho’s glass heart started to beat within his own cavity.
‘Thump thump thump,’ he said delightedly as he looked back at Yunho. His smile was blindingly bright, so unlike the placid excuses for emotions that had run through his face since Yunho met him, ‘It’s thumping…for you. It feels like it has for a while,’
When Yunho’s lips clanged and Mingi’s clinked as they met, their now separated heart halves almost beat as one full glass heart again, both of them aching at the fullness in their chests.
They smiled at each other as they pulled apart.
Yunho tangled his fingers with Mingi’s, looked into his sharp brown eyes. Mingi returned his gaze, staring up into his starry large eyes with the fondest expression on his face, ‘So…what now?’
Yunho turned away, gestured towards the distance, where their life could begin anew now that they had each other, ‘I mean, I don’t mind staying, but we could leave, go somewhere out there,’
Mingi made a sound, one that prompted Yunho to wrench his gaze from the setting sun and the dazzling hues it colored the sky, to look back at his ballerina, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I can’t actually walk, I’m stuck to my box,’ Mingi pointed out, gesturing to his one stuck set of toes, ‘I would love to get out of here,’
Yunho inspected the box, and then looked back up at Mingi, ‘Can you still dance?’
His ballerina just shook his head, ‘I haven’t danced in years. Pretty sure all my gears are rusted,’
‘Alright,’ Yunho said before he dropped to his knees at his beloved’s feet again, one hand cupping at Mingi’s shapely calf, and the other reaching for the sharp rock to carefully carve around Mingi’s toes still infused to the box. It took some time, but when he was done, Mingi just jumped right off, giggling in delight as he began to test his newly found mobility by walking around.
They were still on pointe, but Yunho supposed that was just Mingi’s usual state of being.
The blazing oranges and pinks have made way for deeper purples, as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, once Yunho finally moved closer to Mingi again, reaching out for the ballerina’s hand, ‘Are you ready to go?’
Another clink against clang as Mingi reached up to kiss Yunho’s lips, before nodding, ‘Yeah, let’s get out of here,’
And as they made their way out of the dump, they both knew (in their hearts) that everything would be okay. As long as they had each other.
– The End –
(Mingi turned to his beloved and frowned as they made their way back to more solid ground, ‘Hey, soldier, what’s your name?’
Yunho turned to him with furrowed brows, ‘It’s Yunho,’
‘Yunho?’ Mingi tested it on his lips, nodding as he found it acceptable, ‘Yunho, it’s nice,’ he peered up at the tin soldier’s face, ‘I love you, Yunho,’
Yunho’s grip tightened on his hand, as he smiled, ‘Love you too, Mingi,’)