Chapter Text
“Do you like it?”, the art teacher asked, almost materializing behind Seokmin.
Seokmin practically jumped, not expecting the older lady with beady eyes looking over his shoulder.
“Does it speak to you?”, she repeated.
‘It’ was the painting on the wall, a damp sandy background overshot with watery black. Shadows burned to darkness by straying too close to the light. A silhouette, everywhere and nowhere at once. A nobody and everybody.
He felt for the back of his neck, “It’s beautiful.”
“Maybe you’d like to talk to its creator,” she pointed her chin over to an intense figure on the far bench, “his name is Minghao.”
Minghao. A name that would truly never leave his mind. Those sharp, all-seeing eyes were closed in meditation and Seokmin could still feel their half-hooded stare. Those neatly folded hands that found their purpose at the paintbrush, the royal posture that maintained its grace.
Minghao, close enough to grasp but always out of reach. As distant as the stars, try as he may, Seokmin could never truly aim to touch him.
-
Minghao liked the theater, not for its stage but for the quiet anonymity of its audience seats. Despite its small size, the front corner seats were hidden by the wings -- a perfect place to practice perspective. And in the quiet, he had heard a sound like none other.
Clear and bright, like sun rays breaking through the mist. A nightingale’s tune, sung for the love of the song. The words wrenched from the song, but the tune was unmistakable.
A side door opened, and the song stopped.
“Seokmin? Hey, are you there?”
And that voice, the same one, “Yeah, what’s up?”
Minghao had barely heard the rest of the conversation, solely focused on that smile. The lips that curled open, that joy. The cadence of that warm voice, like the heat of the sun under his skin. Looking at him was like looking at the sun, in the sense that it was hard to look at him because of his brightness.
-
The sun and the stars, light and dim. If there is such a force that brings the undestined together, it is circumstance.
-
Seokmin loved the stage, he really did. All the stories, the sounds, the sights. The stage was a place where anything could happen, and he could be anyone within that. And the more he was that anyone, the less he could return to himself when he left the stage.
And it had been a while since he’d truly felt being Seokmin, not an actor, a theater student, not anybody. Just Seokmin, nothing to no one else.
He sat down on the ground, frustration beating behind his skull like a blade-winged bird. Suppose he could just figure it out, for once. And, it was then that the tears came, his nose burned and it was too late to hold it back.
He just sat there, angry tears staining his lines. Dark, empty, green room and no one to notice. Or so he thought. The door swung open, and in came what looked like a walking heap of fabric.
Seokmin scrambled, attempting to wipe his face and get off the ground.
"Whoa, whoa," the student put the pile of fabrics on the floor and approached Seokmin, "What's going on?"
The question prompted a few sniffles and he sat back down. Seokmin ducked apologetically, "It's nothing, really."
"Sounds like it, huh?" the other said, offering him a hand, "You're from theater, right?"
Seokmin nodded and sneezed a handful of times to boot.
"Come, let's go get some tea, can't have our star lead catching a cold."
He found himself getting led away to a cafe, the cup of green tea in hand counteracting the stinging headache and stuffy nose he'd brought on. His mysterious benefactor smiled at him and Seokmin's strained eyes attempted to identify the familiar stranger. An image floated in his mind's eye but barely eluded him. Somewhere, he was sure he had seen those unfathomable eyes.
Seokmin's manners roused, "I'm so sorry to trouble you like this."
"Oh no, it's no trouble at all. How're you feeling?"
"Much better, thank you."
He rose to go, "I need to go take care of the stuff I left in the green room but, I'll see you around, won't I?"
Seokmin stood up, about to offer to walk him back.
“No, no. You need rest, we’ll see each other when the time is right.”
“Right. Thank you, again.”
He inclined his head regally, in acknowledgment. And as Seokmin watched him depart, a silhouette haunted him. On some far-off sandy bar, an umbral figure dissipated into thin air. A name so well memorized it became a part of him, an understanding so bone-deep only one who understood the nature of things would know. Only an artist, touched by the stars.
-
kyeom: mingyu
i need a new room like asap
why are they making me pay so much extra for peace ffs
some dude: huh
oh u mean the new single room rates
kyeom: yeah who the fuck changes the rates mid-year it’s sick
some dude: idk seethe cope mald
kyeom: i’m asking for solutions not your smartassery
some dude: get a roommate lol
kyeom: ok but who’s gonna put up with my practice
hey
you
room with me
some dude: sorry im already taken my guy
kyeom: MINGYU
BITCH
WHO TF
okay you know what
fine
but who am i supposed to ask now
some dude: his names wonwoo
and ur in luck i got this buddy named minghao
kyeom: he’s your buddy?
great i’m gonna room with another frat boy
some dude: hes not that bad cmon now
and if you dont want him im sure theres someone else who needs a roommate
oh and hes not a frat boy
kyeom: fine whatever
some dude: shared contact - xu minghao
kyeom: thanks
some dude: yeah yeah get out of my face
kyeom: i’m literally picking you up for lunch
some dude: oh sorry mb
thank you my great savior i am but your humble servant
kyeom: die in hell
some dude: soon
-
Minghao? So familiarly close. A face he could feel but not distinguish. Eyes with the strength of the stones in a river bed; smooth and persistent, unabated in their search. Deathless like the blinded eyes of an oracle, vision to perceive beyond the seen. Smoke swirled within them, bewitching the unsuspecting. All Seokmin could do was feel, instead of know.
-
+82 12-470-2491: hi i’m seokmin, i was looking for a roommate and mingyu gave me your phone number
xu minghao: hey, mingyu just texted me about you
how about we meet tomorrow, to talk it over
+82 12-470-2491: that sounds good
where are you thinking?
xu minghao: how about the planetarium, the garden outside is nice
+82 12-470-2491: yeah thats fine im free after six so i hope that works
xu minghao: same here
+82 12-470-2491: see you later then
-
The cold evening air blew menacingly around Minghao, threatening to take the coat from around his shoulders. The willow trees bowed to the ground and as he walked up the pathways to the planetarium.
-
Seokmin settled in on the bench, hopefully awaiting his to-be roommate. He hoped Mingyu’s predicament about this guy would be true.
“Hey,” the voice announced, “You must be Seokmin?”
Seokmin looked up expectantly, but the smiling expression had quickly turned plastic. The face and the name merged together. Xu Minghao. Those eyes gazed into his, Seokmin swore at himself. Couldn’t he have recognized him earlier? That entire school year and he still couldn’t get it figured out? And then the second realization hit. He’d just cried in front of this guy, a couple of days ago. My god.
“Hi,” he said, composing his face, “it’s nice to meet you again, Minghao.”
The corner of Minghao’s lips twitched up, “Feeling any better, star lead?”
Seokmin let out a smile he didn’t know he was holding, “Yeah, thanks for the tea.”
That smile , Minghao realized, that smile had never changed . He’d put the faces together when he’d spoken to him. The wind took a particularly nasty swipe at the pair in the garden.
“Hey, why don’t we talk over it in my rooms?”
The other nodded in assent, and they started off, faces down against the wind. It hadn’t taken long, Minghao was prepared. Seokmin knew he wouldn’t have any trouble rooming with him. They went over to look at the apartment a couple of days later. Soon, Mingyu and Minghao were over helping with the boxes.
-
“Seok,” Mingyu complained, “what in the ever loving fuck is in this box? It’s so heavy!”
Seokmin dropped the box he was taping up to help the stronger with the load, “This must be all my past scripts, it’s a little paper dense.”
“Nerd.”
They carried it out to Mingyu’s sedan, “Thanks for helping me move.”
“You damn well know that it’s only happening because you promised to have me over for food. Me and Wonwoo.”
“When did you two become a package deal?”
Mingyu gave Seokmin something of a cross between a shit-eating grin and a dirty look. He called it the ‘caught in the act puppy’ look.
Minghao’s airy voice interrupted their conversation, “The car is almost full. We should take it over to the other house.”
“I’ll take it,” Mingyu offered, “you guys get the next set of boxes prepared, please.”
“Be nice to my stuff, Gyu-ah!”
“I won’t!!”
The pair returned to the dorms as Seokmin sighed out some swear words at the other.
Minghao smiled -- a gentle tilt of the lips and a soft breath. He looked Seokmin as he bounced alongside him, clearly excited. They worked in tandem, tape and scissors sealing the boxes away.
Somewhere in between, Seokmin looked up to catch Minghao in a moment of concentration labeling one of the boxes with a marker. The artist’s eyebrows furrowed as he navigated the tricky Korean words that he had only recently learned.
“You’re so cool when you concentrate, d’you know that?”
Minghao’s eyebrows relaxed as he huffed out a laugh, “Thanks.”
“In my defense,” Seokmin said, stacking a set of small boxes, “that’s how you looked when I saw you the first time. I think you were painting.”
"When was that?”
“Back in high school,” Seokmin joined Minghao on the floor, “Do you still paint?”
“No, no, I’m just an art major for fun.”
Seokmin shot the other an incredulous look, “You could’ve changed mediums?? You’ve gotta show me your work sometime. I’ve only seen that one painting.”
“You act like we talked back then, which one did you see?”
“The sandbar and ink-shadow painting. Did it have a name?”
“I think so--”
Mingyu propped his leg against the door frame and gave the pair a look, Seokmin looked up at him, face guilty. Mingyu smiled somewhat boyishly, “Working hard, Seok-ah?”
Minghao quickly turned around and busied himself with something. As he rose, Seokmin noticed Mingyu pointing at the painter. He was smiling and his shoulder quivered as though he was laughing silently. Warmth swelled in Seokmin’s chest, the world dimmed in comparison to Minghao.