"...you know how light is invisible? Like— Light rays in of themselves aren't visible to our eyes. There are things we can detect in the visible light spectrum, but light itself, traveling through space, has no shape, no form to be seen," Mingyu voiced quietly, expression pensive as he lingered outside his apartment door, back to Fox.
"But we know it's there. We can see how it illuminates our world, can tell when the light goes out. Even with our eyes shut, we can feel the warmth from the sun."
He turned to look over his shoulder, smiling again, expression set with determination.
"You do that for me every single day, Huli. The illumination, the warmth. And you can ask anyone who's crossed me about my darkness." The smile gained that newfound knife's edge again, and he opened the door. Flipping on the light switch, he stepped in, expecting Fox to follow.
Fox sighed, watching Mingyu’s back for a moment before following him in. He didn’t know how to get through to Mingyu, but maybe now just wasn’t the time. Maybe he’d be able to comvince him later.
At first glance, the apartment looked a lot like his own. A ton of notes and half completed incantations everywhere, littered with take out boxes. It was obvious Mingyu had been sleeping on the couch, and the only slightly odd fixture was the large chest that Fox instantly recognized as something from home.
He wasn’t as surprised as he should have been, maybe. He loved Mingyu’s apartment back home, clean and pristine, covered in soft pastels and plush mascots. But that image didn’t suit this Mingyu anyway. Huli has stripped Mingyu’s innocence from him, for better or worse.
“Oh so now you just live like I do, and neither of us clean up properly,” he teased as he stepped into the living room. “What are you so nervous about?”
"I don't know," Mingyu murmured, voice dry as he tried to read Fox's expression for something deeper, any sense of Fox trying to bury a deeper feeling than what he was saying.
"Must've mistaken you for someone with taste. And standards." Cracking a grim smile at that, he stepped past the mess in the living room, towards the hallway leading to the bedroom.
"I guess if there's nothing you want to see out here...?"
“You’ve seen my apartment. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
Unfortunately for Mingyu, Fox never could resist magic, let alone getting a peak at what Mingyu - who he’d never known to be that adept - was working on.
So rather than follow him to the bedroom, he walked over to the coffee table and picked up one of the half scrawled incantations to read it.
His shoulders drooped, but he didn’t turn back around.
...yeah, that's more along the lines of what he thought. He can't even begin to guess which one of his projects Fox is having a problem with, because at a guess he'd say all of them, so he heaves out a sigh as he mops a hand over his face, moving over to see what it is Fox has in his hands.
He didn’t look angry or upset so much as heart broken.
He set the incantation down again and picked up the next one. Then the next one.
“Why do you even need these, here?” He asked in a quiet whisper. “Are you that afraid that what happened to Huli will happen again? We don’t— there’s no one here who’s out to get us, Mingyu, you don’t need any of these.”
At that question, Mingyu was silent for a long while. At first, he'd done it because he'd hoped to make progress here, for if and when he returned to the place where he still needed to get Fox back. But after learning he would retain nothing of his time here, why did he—
"...I don't know what else to do with myself," he confessed quietly, gaze dropping to the floor.
"It's who I am now. It's almost all I am anymore. I'm nothing without you. Just this."
Fox let out a breath and slowly started to stack them, clearly organizing them though it wasn’t immediately apparent what by.
“It’s not who you are, Mingyu. You aren’t this. Just like I’m not my magic either.” He picked up one and looked forlornly at it for a long minute.
“You know that on a technical level these are incredible, right? Like... the ability to do stuff like this... people used to praise me a lot but this is stuff the wrong people would kill for.” He finally turned back, looking smaller somehow than he had been.
'People would do worse than kill for what you do, Huli,' Mingyu thought to himself but did not voice, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.
"...not the magic. It's not the magic that's who I am, it's... the method. The habits I made, what I do. Day in, day out. This is me now," he clarified softly instead, biting down on his lip.
"Of course it's not what I want, I just... It's all I really know anymore."
“So, what, you’ve decided that you do this and you’re never going to change, so may as well give up on yourself?”
He pressed his lips together as he watched Mingyu, clearly working very hard to think through what he wanted to say before he said it.
“Developing magic isn’t bad. Discovering new things. You don’t have to.. to do these. You could make something new. We could make something new. Mingyu... the things we could do together—“ He was suddenly overcome with feeling and he gripped the talisman in his hand too hard, crumpling the edge of the paper without realizing.
“No one’s ever really been able to talk to me on my level, Mingyu, they never seem to fully get it. This— this doesn’t have to be bad. We could— there’s so much we could do, if we worked together. We could change the world, if we wanted to.”
Mingyu smiled, quiet and grieved, throat so tight he nearly couldn't breathe.
"I used to think about that all the time," he whispered, gaze distant, half talking to himself. "In the beginning, when I first started learning, when it was all new and... it didn't yet carry all this terrible weight."
Shutting his eyes, he sighed.
"I thought of how excited you'd be at what I picked up. How happy. How proud. Every time I broke through some kind of ceiling, I'd think— 'He'll be so thrilled.'"
Eyes opening once more, he fixed his gaze on Fox again.
"...would you believe I forgot? I forgot all about it. About those feelings. That you'd even be interested in all. I forgot."
He whispered those last words to himself, half in disbelief, struck by the notion all over again as he cast Fox a fragile, horrified look.
"I forgot."
Forgot the very essence of Fox's being.
He forgot.
"God—"
Twisting a hand in his own hair, he hunched over himself, trying to breath, choking on a sudden sob. The loss washed over him and he sank down to his knees right there on the floor.
"Mingyu--" Fox's heart wrenched in his chest and he was moving before he even thought about it. His hands went out, gently grasping Mingyu's shoulders as he knelt down in front of him, holding him steady as if trying to keep him upright.
"Mingyu, it's okay," he whispered quietly. "It's grief. It does fucked up things to people. You and I know that better than anyone, yeah? You didn't forget. You just remembered right now. You would have remembered it again. Don't - you're okay."
He wet his lips, swallowing around the worried lump in his throat.
Mingyu was still only half listening, overcome by the notion he could leave this place and remember none of this, go back to his life as he was, searching for a man who was probably dead.
It hadn't even been a year, and he'd already forgotten this much.
How much longer before he lost everything, lost all the parts of Fox in his life beyond recognition? He'd been aware for some time now that he'd been losing Fox in pieces, lost his warmth and his presence and his noisy, boisterous existence, but not the basic fundamental things.
He tried to picture it. The entire rest of his life, losing Fox again and again, remembering him in snatches, in jagged pieces, only to lose them again.
Breathing hard, he forced down the urge to sob, to scream, and tried instead to focus on Fox's voice.
'We're both here, and we're okay.'
Were they?
They had to be. He had to be. This was all they had, and Mingyu couldn't waste it.
So he took in a few shaky breaths, nodding, trying not to cling as tightly to Fox as he wanted to.
"...yeah," he managed, burying his face in Fox's shoulder as he had grown into the habit of doing, centering himself breathing Fox in. "Yeah. We're here. We'll be okay. I'll find my way back. Just... just bear with me."
“Have I given you any indication I wouldn’t?” He asked softly, his heart still hammering painfully in his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around the other man, pulling him closer.
“You won’t need to find your way back,” he whispered quietly. “Because I’ll have your hand in mine the whole way. We both have to— it’s a different grief, but it’s something I have to deal with, too. We can be there for each other.”
He clung a little tighter and swallowed.
“I never want to leave you like this. I never want to push you like this. I’ll fix it somehow.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"But we know it's there. We can see how it illuminates our world, can tell when the light goes out. Even with our eyes shut, we can feel the warmth from the sun."
He turned to look over his shoulder, smiling again, expression set with determination.
"You do that for me every single day, Huli. The illumination, the warmth. And you can ask anyone who's crossed me about my darkness." The smile gained that newfound knife's edge again, and he opened the door. Flipping on the light switch, he stepped in, expecting Fox to follow.
no subject
At first glance, the apartment looked a lot like his own. A ton of notes and half completed incantations everywhere, littered with take out boxes. It was obvious Mingyu had been sleeping on the couch, and the only slightly odd fixture was the large chest that Fox instantly recognized as something from home.
He wasn’t as surprised as he should have been, maybe. He loved Mingyu’s apartment back home, clean and pristine, covered in soft pastels and plush mascots. But that image didn’t suit this Mingyu anyway. Huli has stripped Mingyu’s innocence from him, for better or worse.
“Oh so now you just live like I do, and neither of us clean up properly,” he teased as he stepped into the living room. “What are you so nervous about?”
no subject
"Must've mistaken you for someone with taste. And standards." Cracking a grim smile at that, he stepped past the mess in the living room, towards the hallway leading to the bedroom.
"I guess if there's nothing you want to see out here...?"
no subject
Unfortunately for Mingyu, Fox never could resist magic, let alone getting a peak at what Mingyu - who he’d never known to be that adept - was working on.
So rather than follow him to the bedroom, he walked over to the coffee table and picked up one of the half scrawled incantations to read it.
His shoulders drooped, but he didn’t turn back around.
“Oh Mingyu...”
no subject
"Told you, you wouldn't like it."
no subject
He set the incantation down again and picked up the next one. Then the next one.
“Why do you even need these, here?” He asked in a quiet whisper. “Are you that afraid that what happened to Huli will happen again? We don’t— there’s no one here who’s out to get us, Mingyu, you don’t need any of these.”
no subject
"...I don't know what else to do with myself," he confessed quietly, gaze dropping to the floor.
"It's who I am now. It's almost all I am anymore. I'm nothing without you. Just this."
no subject
“It’s not who you are, Mingyu. You aren’t this. Just like I’m not my magic either.” He picked up one and looked forlornly at it for a long minute.
“You know that on a technical level these are incredible, right? Like... the ability to do stuff like this... people used to praise me a lot but this is stuff the wrong people would kill for.” He finally turned back, looking smaller somehow than he had been.
“Is this what you want to be doing?”
no subject
"...not the magic. It's not the magic that's who I am, it's... the method. The habits I made, what I do. Day in, day out. This is me now," he clarified softly instead, biting down on his lip.
"Of course it's not what I want, I just... It's all I really know anymore."
no subject
He pressed his lips together as he watched Mingyu, clearly working very hard to think through what he wanted to say before he said it.
“Developing magic isn’t bad. Discovering new things. You don’t have to.. to do these. You could make something new. We could make something new. Mingyu... the things we could do together—“ He was suddenly overcome with feeling and he gripped the talisman in his hand too hard, crumpling the edge of the paper without realizing.
“No one’s ever really been able to talk to me on my level, Mingyu, they never seem to fully get it. This— this doesn’t have to be bad. We could— there’s so much we could do, if we worked together. We could change the world, if we wanted to.”
no subject
"I used to think about that all the time," he whispered, gaze distant, half talking to himself. "In the beginning, when I first started learning, when it was all new and... it didn't yet carry all this terrible weight."
Shutting his eyes, he sighed.
"I thought of how excited you'd be at what I picked up. How happy. How proud. Every time I broke through some kind of ceiling, I'd think— 'He'll be so thrilled.'"
Eyes opening once more, he fixed his gaze on Fox again.
"...would you believe I forgot? I forgot all about it. About those feelings. That you'd even be interested in all. I forgot."
He whispered those last words to himself, half in disbelief, struck by the notion all over again as he cast Fox a fragile, horrified look.
"I forgot."
Forgot the very essence of Fox's being.
He forgot.
"God—"
Twisting a hand in his own hair, he hunched over himself, trying to breath, choking on a sudden sob. The loss washed over him and he sank down to his knees right there on the floor.
"It hasn't even— been that long, how did I—"
no subject
"Mingyu, it's okay," he whispered quietly. "It's grief. It does fucked up things to people. You and I know that better than anyone, yeah? You didn't forget. You just remembered right now. You would have remembered it again. Don't - you're okay."
He wet his lips, swallowing around the worried lump in his throat.
"We're both here, and we're okay."
no subject
It hadn't even been a year, and he'd already forgotten this much.
How much longer before he lost everything, lost all the parts of Fox in his life beyond recognition? He'd been aware for some time now that he'd been losing Fox in pieces, lost his warmth and his presence and his noisy, boisterous existence, but not the basic fundamental things.
He tried to picture it. The entire rest of his life, losing Fox again and again, remembering him in snatches, in jagged pieces, only to lose them again.
Breathing hard, he forced down the urge to sob, to scream, and tried instead to focus on Fox's voice.
'We're both here, and we're okay.'
Were they?
They had to be. He had to be. This was all they had, and Mingyu couldn't waste it.
So he took in a few shaky breaths, nodding, trying not to cling as tightly to Fox as he wanted to.
"...yeah," he managed, burying his face in Fox's shoulder as he had grown into the habit of doing, centering himself breathing Fox in. "Yeah. We're here. We'll be okay. I'll find my way back. Just... just bear with me."
no subject
“You won’t need to find your way back,” he whispered quietly. “Because I’ll have your hand in mine the whole way. We both have to— it’s a different grief, but it’s something I have to deal with, too. We can be there for each other.”
He clung a little tighter and swallowed.
“I never want to leave you like this. I never want to push you like this. I’ll fix it somehow.”