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
"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.”