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Seungmin does not remember when it began.
That’s a lie, the truth is he does not remember when he falls.
It starts with blood in his mouth, feet off the ground and only the sky in his vision. It starts with a fight. And a boy with a red jacket.
A week later he spends the afternoon with the same boy, trying to save a kitten from the tree. When she is down and has scurried away, the boy with the red jacket and an infinity in his eyes offers him a ride home on his bike. Offers him his hand and offers him his name.
Lee Minho.
His descent into love with Minho is slow, gradual. He feels it before he knows the word for it, before he can articulate what it does to him.
Love is the small town he grew up in. The lemon flavoured candies from the store across the street. It is the field Minho grabs his hands and runs across. The tucked smiles into the junction of his neck and shoulders, his arms wrapped around a hollering Minho’s waist as he bikes across familiar paths.
Love is the happiness on Minho’s face- eyes alive, mouth open to reveal pink gums- as he talks about leaving their hometown. The promises made under the cover of darkness, under their blankets during their sleepovers.
“We have the whole universe waiting for us. Why settle, why limit ourselves?” Minho asks and Seungmin nods eagerly unafraid to leave his hometown behind, for the love he has for Minho is his home and hearth.
And then years later, love is the thorn cage that constricts around his heart as he watches, repeatedly, one after another, Minho reject their smitten peers' confessions and letters, an honest smile on his face, polite words on his tongue. It is the blood roaring in his ears when Seungmin hears Minho deny having feelings for any one when his soccer teammates inquire.
“I’m going to leave this town anyway,” he tells them, “Better not to be tethered down.”
“Even to little Seungmin?” they tease and Seungmin shrinks further into the wall he is hiding behind.
Seungmin can picture the glint in Minho's eyes when he replies, “Seungmin is my best friend. He comes where I go. He will follow.”
Seungmin is sixteen when he realises he would follow Minho to the ends of the earth, on an aimless chase, a race with no destination. Fear rampant in his blood he vows to stamp down his feelings, reasoning it was better to have Minho as a friend than not have him at all. That it would hurt all too much to hear Minho repeat the same rehearsed respectful rejections Seungmin had watched him give to countless others.
Seungmin is simply one of the many awed admirers to Minho’s radiant sun.
That night, love is the burning behind his eyes, tear tracks on his face and an iron willed resolution.
Rooming with Han Jisung is a consequence of following Minho to university, a plan years in the making. Falling for him is abrupt and sudden, like a collision with a freight train.
Three months into sharing an apartment, he walks into Seungmin’s room, drenched completely in the rain Seungmin hears pouring heavily outside his window
“I got you this,” Jisung says, pink across his cheeks but a determined glint in his eyes. “You said you loved this movie when you were younger and since you were sick, I thought this would cheer you up.”
He hands Seungmin a DVD of the Corpse Bride, and ends up tugging at strings around his heart the way previously only Minho had been able to.
And suddenly, love has another meaning. The flipped side of the coin.
It is the smell of dirt in the rain. The late night trips to the convenience store. Love is late night movie marathons and cooking instant noodles at the break of dawn. It is pouring over maths notes as he helps Jisung with his assignments and early morning groggy smiles.
It is Jisung with stars in his eyes and music underneath his fingertips.
It is a way forward, the growth.
But Seungmin should have never forgotten the first lesson taught to him by life. Where there is love, pain is sure to follow.
It ends like this.
Minho comes over to demand his jacket back from Seungmin while Jisung refuses to leave the cosiness of the dorm.
And they hit off in a way Seungmin had always expected them to. Had always feared they would. Maybe that is why they were meeting well into the year despite going to the same university. Seungmin had tried to keep both his lives apart. Both his loves apart.
Between Minho and Jisung is a love for food, a love for all that breathes. A passion for music. An obsession for horror movies.
Seungmin sits uneasy as the clock ticks past five hours after MInho’s arrival, both of his friends still engaged in conversation.
If Seungmin had been less afraid, less uneasy, he would have noticed the tightness around Minho’s eyes when he smiled, or the way Jisung had placed his hands under his own thighs to hide his tremors. But fearful, such things escape his notice.
“Apply for the undergrad exchange programme, Seungmin.” His thermodynamics professor peers over her glasses. “You are one of my brightest and the States offers facilities to students that you can only dream of.”
“But I do not wish to go,” Seungmin tells her with complete certainty.
“You can decide when they send a reply back,” she sighs, going back to reading papers spread on her desk, “If for nothing else, then because the offer may look nice on your resume.”
Seungmin goes home and grudgingly fills the form.
And as the end of freshman year approaches, so does more agony.
Minho is over at their dorm more often, even at the times he knows Seungmin is out for his classes, or part time work at the cafe. Seungmin usually comes home to Jisung and Minho giggling on the couch and then sooner than he expects, Minho’s things are appearing among Jisung’s and Seungmin’s in the apartment. A sock in the wrong shoe, a hoodie in the laundry.
And before he knows it, they both are going to gym together, and Jisung is agreeing to make a composition for Minho’s recital next year.
“I didn’t know you danced,” Seungmin brings it over the dinner table, when Jisung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and Minho only pats his cheek lightly.
“There is a lot you do not know about me, love.”
Between Minho and Jisung are shy smiles and pinked cheeks and Seungmin thinks, “ah, this is what love looks like.”
Near the end of summer, Minho, uncharacteristically shy, requests Seungmin for permission to ask Jisung out and Seungmin nods, despite his sinking heart.
That night, amidst his sobs and snot covered tissues, Seungmin opens the unread letter of approval from the exchange programme sitting in his inbox and starts drafting a reply.
He does not say goodbye.
The exchange programme is kind to Seungmin.
Away from both of them, the excruciating pain settles into a dull ache. He cries at the phantom sensation of a lost limb lesser under the darkness of night and feels less afraid to enter his own space.
He misses them constantly though, more on days where he stumbles onto mundane things that remind him of them. The lemon candies at the store he goes to searching for milk. The umbrella with strawberries on it. A DVD of corpse bride displayed on the glass screen. But it is better, he convinces himself. Better than seeing the two men he yearns for leaving him behind. This had to be better than souring their happiness.
Because Minho and Jisung were meant to be. The depth in Minho’s eyes large enough to contain the universe in Jisung’s. Seungmin’s sun and Seungmin’s stars. He was fated to only stand upon the earth and look at them from afar, in wonder
It was his destiny, he supposes, to bring them together. A plot device in their inevitable union. An observer to things he yearned for, like a child yearned to sit on the clouds and reach for the sky.
The States, however, also bring him Hyunjin. A brief distraction from the pain and turmoil.
Sweet, beautiful Hyunjin who could have anyone, but chooses to find Seungmin in the dark corners in the libraries. Whose smiles are brilliant and kisses even sweeter. He smells like spring. If Jisung and Minho are his sky, Hyunjin is the earth. Stable beneath his feet, keeping him grounded.
It is a compromise, but it could be love one day. But the ‘could be’ is unfair to Hyunjin.
Hyunjin cries with him when Seungmin comes clean. “It is okay,” He hiccups noisily into the wet patch of Seungmin’s shoulder, as if Seungmin’s pain hurts him too. “You are okay.”
Despite everything, Hyunjin convinces Seungmin to stay the summer after sophomore year in the States and yells, “Remember to text back and visit me,” when Seungmin leaves for Seoul just mere days before his university re-opens.
That year Seungmin gains a friend. He gains strength.
The start of third year, he goes back to the dorm he shares with Jisung, stronger than before.
And yet, a month is all it takes to crumble his resolve.
A month of leaving early and arriving home late when he is sure that Jisung is asleep, of keeping his conversation clipped and short when he addresses him. A month of turning in the other direction when he stumbles upon Minho at their university, of watching his expectant expression crumble.
A month of self-inflicted agony before he hears Jisung’s sobs in the living room as he tries to discreetly exit the dorm.
“I c-can’t do this, hyung,” Jisung wails into the phone, his voice breaking, “He won’t look at me, won’t talk to me.”
He stops to blow his nose and Seungmin, if he strains to, can hear Minho on the other end of the phone.
“I don’t understanding w-what he is punishing me for. H-hyung, I never meant- I don’t understand, I just-”
And Seungmin watches as Jisung descends into a fit of uncontrollable sobs and incoherent noises on the couch. A few steps away from where Seungmin first fell in love with him.
It seems there is more pain to be felt.
And Seungmin is striding to cease, to lessen the pain he is causing. He hadn’t known, hadn’t realised it would cause them this much agony too.
He collides almost violently into a stunned, wide eyed Jisung, his own sobs matching the elder’s intensity, wrapping his arms around him.
“I’m sorry,” he cries amidst his own tears as Jisung’s arms come up to wind around his chest hesitantly.
And then, nothing has changed at all.
Nothing has changed, except how Jisung and Minho tiptoe around each other in front of him. Gone is the thoughtless smiles and in their space are uneasy looks. At dinner they sit apart from each other, not quite touching but not too distant. They seem unsure. Afraid. But their gym routine is the same and Minho is always at the apartment with Jisung when Seungmin comes home so he assumes it has to do with his presence.
“You don’t have to tone down your affection around me, you know that right?” he says, his head on Minho’s shoulder and a movie running in the background. Jisung is sprawled on both of their laps, asleep.
“It is not what you think it is,” Minho answers looking away, and Seungmin picks on his reluctance to talk about it.
He does not press further, going back to the movie. Minho and Jisung had not demanded explanations for his year of radio silence, just happy that they were talking again and Seungmin at least owed Minho the same courtesy.
“Come to the recital,” Minho implores and Seungmin, weak, goes.
Jisung’s composition and Minho’s choreography plays a tale of yearning, of sorrow and of loss.
Seungmin, for reasons he does not fully comprehend, cries himself to sleep that night.
The agony too returns, now tenfold, as they grow closer and closer, as if nothing had happened between them.
Until something does.
And then everything changes.
At new years, as the countdown reaches zero, Minho turns around, drunk and sloppy, and kisses him. In the middle of their living room. In front of Jisung, who watches them content and giddy from the couch.
“I’m so glad you are here,” Minho whispers against his lips and Seungmin is rising up from his place, his head spinning.
His sudden departure from the dorm sends Minho sprawling on to the ground, in an attempt to chase him.
But it is Jisung who grabs his wrist at the foot of the stairs, hands almost blue with the biting cold.
“Come back, it is freezing,” he pleads, his eyes mirroring Seungmin’s own fear. “Don’t leave again. Please don’t leave.”
And Seungmin goes up for the reason he had not said goodbye before leaving.
Stars have their own gravity. And he cannot resist being pulled into their orbit. Cannot resist staying despite the pain.
Seungmin and Minho start at the same time. Outside the window, the sun is still rising but sitting between both Jisung and Minho on the couch, he already feels warmer.
“I’m so so-”
“Sorry-”
Sorry?
“Hyung, why are you sorry?” he warbles, his tears free flowing.
What does Minho have to be sorry about? It was Seungmin who fell for him and the man he loved. It was Seungmin who left without a word and came back without an explanation. Seungmin who loves them so fiercely.
“Seungmin I-” Minho says, but Seungmin raises his hand.
Too long has Seungmin bitten his tongue. Hidden and scared.
“I- I don’t wish to come between you. I’m sorry we- we kissed, please-” Minho opens his mouth to interrupt him, but a choked sob rips out of Seungmin throat and he pauses, his face contorted in pain, “Please. I know you make each other happy-”
He hiccups, bringing his hand to rub his eye furiously, desperate to try to convey his thoughts properly. Desperate to fix his wrongs. He at least owed them that much.
“And I knew you were together and I- I still-”
“But we aren't,” Jisung says in a small voice and Seungmin, stunned, raises his face to meet his eyes.
Jisung looks a little like how Seungmin feels. Dark circles under his eyes, eyebrows pinched together in pain, his face wet with tears. Exhausted. Pained.
But then, Seungmin watches his eyes fill with the same determination he had fallen for.
“We aren't together though,” Jisung says, a bit more confidently, even if his voice shakes a little. “And definitely not happy.”
“Be-because of me?” Seungmin questions, his heart sinking. He had never meant for this when he left.
Minho throws a couch pillow aimed at his head. It hits him square in the face and Seungmin almost misses the next thing he says.
“Yes, because of you,” he howls. “And not for the reasons you imagine.”
Seungmin’s eyes trace another tear as it rolls down Minho’s cheek.
“B-but, you asked if you could ask Jisung out-”
“Yes, but I never meant it without you. I thought you understood that.”
Seungmin makes a confused noise but it is Jisung who replies, “You know, after you left, we tried to go out and you know-” he lets out a pained sound, “But Seungmin, this is something we wanted to do with you. We wanted to wait for you.”
And Seungmin. Seungmin doesn’t understand.
“Don’t you two- don’t you like each other?”
“We do. So much. But we also like you,” Jisung says, but Minho has known Seungmin longer, knows what every twitch, every contortion in his expression means. Knows how disbelief looks on his face.
“At first I was so jealous of Jisung. I hated him,” Minho says with a wet laugh and Jisung elbows him gently, “I've liked you since we were little and I always thought you and I were inevitable, did you ever know Seungmin?”
Seungmin shakes his head. Minho pushes his hand into his hair and rubs it fondly. Like he used to with the cats back home, “You wouldn’t. I kept it well hidden. And then you came here and you wouldn’t stop talking about this friend you made.”
Minho hangs his head down, the tips of his ears red and Seungmin watches him with wide glassy eyes, fascinated, “But you never let me meet him. And I had to sniff out competition. I couldn't lose you. I had to see his menace with my own eyes.”
Minho lightly kicks Jisung’s shins with his toes, and the younger sticks his tongue out.
“It was the same for me,” says Jisungs, covering Seungmin’s hands with his own. His previous tears tracks have not dried yet but more tears keep falling, “Except the inevitable part. But I was going to ask you out and I was so curious about your childhood friend that you followed all the way from the countryside.”
“Wha-”
Minho laughs at his confusion, “I guess once we started to compete for your time, we got closer too. A-and well-” Minho trails off.
“And what?”
“I wrote you a song,” Jisung confesses , playing with his hands, not looking at Seungmin, “And Minho choreographed a routine to it.”
Oh.
“Oh,” Seungmin says, at a loss for words.
“Oh indeed,” Minho lets out another mirthless laugh, his fingers carding to Seungmin’s hair gently and Seungmin lets his head fall onto his shoulder, “But then you never came back to university that year. Never saw it.”
“I’m so-”
“But,” Jisung rushes to explain. “We wrote another one about you.” He raises his eyes to meet Seungmin’s. Warm. Affectionate. Soft
“The one you did at the recital?” Seungmin questions even though he knows it to be true. Because his heart has sung of the same sorrow and pain for the past year. The same as they too must have felt, he realises.
“So you believe us now?” Minho questions, shaking his arm and smiling at him gently and Seungmin very slowly gives a small nod.
Jisung whoops with joy and throws himself over their laps and the world becomes right again.
Love is the sensation of Jisung’s warm eager lips again. It is the safety of Minho’s arms. The warm bed they struggle to squeeze into. The small world they build for themselves.
Love is the moon keychain Minho buys for him.
“If we are your sun and stars,” Jisung explains, gesturing to his star and Minho’s sun keychains. “Then you are our moon. The light on dark nights. Kind, gentle, comforting.”
Love for him, Seungmin decides, is Lee Minho and Han Jisung.