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Minghao saw Joshua Hong the same way he was familiar with, like, the religious figures they used to teach him in Catholic high school– that is, something out of reach and something to revere. It’s just in the way Joshua is so handsome to the point of being pretty, to the point where Minghao isn’t sure if he should make a metaphor out of heaven or sinning because Joshua is still very much off-limits since he’s friends with Seungcheol who’s dating Mingyu, which tells Minghao everything he needs to know about the kind of person Joshua is and the kind of person he would want to be with.
Essentially— not someone like Minghao.
Still, the two of them are friends, and Minghao is fine with it remaining that way. It’s this thing that had started out with Minghao meeting Joshua during night outs at Katipunan speakeasies, their eyes meeting from across the table as they both lean in to take a sip from the Mandarin Moonshine fishbowl they were sharing, their metal straws touching and getting mixed up. And then it turned into cramming papers at Starbucks at 6 AM when it couldn't be avoided that Seunghceol’s friend group overlapped with Mingyu’s because they’re just that sticky sweet couple that had to do everything together, Minghao’s knees would touch Joshua’s underneath the table and the other wouldn’t pull away every time. Three years later, it’s evolved into this– Joshua smiling at him from across the room whenever he catches Minghao staring and holding that gaze. Minghao finds himself smiling back at him, with all of his teeth, just a little too eager, always willing to give it all, whatever it is that Joshua asked for.
“Did you have fun tonight?” Mingyu asks as he drops all of his weight on the empty space next to Minghao on Seungcheol’s thrifted sofa. Mingyu’s voice is too close to his ear and he has this dopey grin on his face as he accidentally spills half his beer on Minghao’s jeans. Minghao doesn’t really have the heart to get annoyed– but it doesn’t stop him from attempting a frown in his direction anyway because Mingyu can’t know he has a soft spot for him.
(Even though Minghao knows its in vain; Mingyu knows, by the way– Mingyu knows and he uses it to his advantage to drag Minghao to Valentine’s day parties hosted by his cooler, older grad-student boyfriend, with his cooler, older grad-student friends)
“He had fun.” Seokmin coos, appearing out of nowhere to pinch his cheek– and Minghao frowns at him for real this time, hoping Joshua didn’t just see Seokmin do that. “I saw you dancing and smiling earlier with everyone else. I told you tonight was going to be fun.”
Minghao opens his mouth to retort, not sure what he was going to say except he knew he wanted to argue, because no, he refuses to admit that Seungcheol and Joshua’s joint apartment party was any fun, but before he could even let a word out, the room suddenly erupts in loud jeering care of Jeonghan and Seungkwan.
At first, Minghao thinks someone’s probably made a mess again, even though they still weren’t done cleaning up the spilled wine on the kitchen floor from when Soonyoung insisted he could open the corkscrew cap wine with Wonwoo’s anatomy kit forceps earlier (no, he wasn’t able to succeed, hence, the aforementioned spilled wine on the floor). The apartment is small, this one bedroom with an even tinier living room that could be barely even called that, so the sound carries easily, demanding for Minghao’s attention to be held. Minghao drags his eyes to where the source of noise is coming from and there at the center of it all, backed up into a corner is Joshua trying to avoid the guitar Chan was trying to hand him, shitty fluorescent lighting raining down on him like stadium spotlights only Minghao could see.
Joshua refuses the guitar, firmly pushing it away, and attempting to hide behind Hansol, not until Jeonghan says something that has him graciously accepting the guitar, but not without throwing Jeonghan an ugly look that only a few could recognize. To the untrained eye, Joshua looks like the perfect picture of demurity– flushed face, pretty pink lips in a pout that bloomed into a smile that curved in a way that showed he was embarrassed but Minghao knew he was pleased about the attention; it was the barely concealed smile turned cough that gave it away. Minghao has a PhD in Joshua-isms and his little quirks so he notices all of these, catches them all and then hides them in places where nobody can find.
“Oh, Joshy is going to play the guitar.” Mingyu laughs and the nickname isn’t lost on Minghao.
“Joshy,” like they’re connected through telepathy or a weird-platonic soulmate connection, Seokmin mocks Mingyu for him so he doesn’t have to. Seokmin laughs loudly as he says it, so Minghao doesn’t catch the song Joshua said he was going to sing before he started playing.
When the familiar melody begins, Minghao cringes, not bothering to hide his distaste, because, ugh, of course Joshua would. Minghao doesn’t know why he expects him to suddenly learn a different song to sing overnight instead of shitty top 10 hits from years ago that the radio insists on playing. Joshua sings a Maroon 5 song, the same Maroon 5 song he’s been singing for as long as Minghao has known him; through karaoke nights, road trips to the beach, and on top of bar tables, there is nothing more consistent than Joshua and the chorus of Sunday Morning. Joshua plays disjointed chords and Minghao should find it annoying, Joshua looks like the biggest asshole in the room right now with his oversized plaid polo and beaten-up guitar, but instead Minghao finds the corners of his lips mirroring the sight of Joshua’s bashful smile.
“He’s been doing this a lot lately hasn’t he?” Mingyu murmurs, and Minghao can tell he’s trying very hard not to laugh. “He keeps bringing that fucking guitar everywhere.”
“And it’s been the same song every time.” Seokmin adds but he isn’t as gracious enough to hold back from laughing. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“Hao, you need to tell him he looks like an asshole. You’re the only one he’d listen to.”
Minghao doesn’t reply and hides his smile behind his beer bottle, afraid he’d open his mouth and show everyone just how that last line left him feeling giddy and warm inside. Joshua is singing so earnestly, with his eyes closed and head swaying as he sings, the light still on him. Okay, fine– Minghao doesn’t care that this song is tired and overplayed, not really, he doesn’t mind hearing Joshua sing; Minghao wouldn’t mind hearing it over and over again, wouldn’t mind hearing it forever.
Mingyu and Seokmin continue bickering but Minghao ignores them, tries to strain his ears to hear Joshua play the guitar over their noise even though he’s heard him sing this hundreds of times. The drunk crowd’s attention had dissipated a bit after the first verse, people spread out and gravitate towards the other parts of the room to put empty bottles in garbage bags or smoke menthol cigarettes out in the balcony, but Minghao still stays here, rooted on their spot by the couch, Mingyu and Seokmin sandwiching him, on the other side of the room when all he wanted was to be front row at everything Joshua did.
For a split second, they make eye contact and Minghao feels his chest squeeze and fissure, all the blood rushing towards his face as he blushes. Joshua’s smile widens, his eyes doing that thing that has Minghao feeling so fond over. The song ends and Jeonghan and Seungkwan’s bodies swallow Joshua again, hiding him from Minghao’s eyes so he tunes in back to Seokmin and Mingyu’s conversation, but he can’t hear what they’re saying. They sound so far away and he still has Joshua’s voice on repeat like a broken TV looped in his brain.
“Mingyu, tell Seokmin and Minghao they can crash here for the night.”
“No, no. It’s really fine, I’ve already booked a ride to bring us to Minghao’s dorm, the driver will be here in like twenty minutes.”
“He just canceled the ride.”
“I’ll book another one then.”
“Jeonghan can sleep on the floor, you and Minghao can take the couch.”
“It’s really fine, I swear–”
“Did you have fun tonight?” Joshua asks softly, sitting next to Minghao on the floor, the argument Minghao had only been paying half-attention to fading into background noise. Joshua’s arm nudges against his and doesn’t leave, it stays pressed against his own like bad glue– and suddenly, the world is so small like this, this tiny apartment growing even tinier– here it’s just them, just the inches of skin where their arms touch, and wherever the light falls. “I was worried you wouldn’t come since it was mostly our friends.”
“It was fun, everyone was nice.” Minghao replies, honestly, just as quietly; they’re in a world of their own now.
“Did you hear me sing earlier?” Joshua’s eyes turn into tender half-moons above a sweet smile. Minghao isn’t sure if he’s still a little drunk but Joshua bats his eyelashes at him. Minghao watches the way Joshua sinks his teeth into his bottom lip; Minghao knows Joshua does this when he’s nervous, his PhD in Joshua-isms becoming useful again, Minghao is an excellent student. Minghao is sure Joshua knows the answer to this, but he looks at Minghao like he’s expecting one anyway. Minghao doesn’t think of its implications.
“I think you need to learn a new song to sing.”
“And?”
Minghao isn’t sure what more is there to say– well, there’s a lot. But those are words reserved for when the lights are off and Minghao is in bed, dark enough for him to ignore the little wishes like prayers dedicated to Joshua he says under his breath. Minghao doesn’t even know what he wants to say, all he knows is that hearing Joshua’s voice makes him feel like thread coming loose.
The silence drags on longer than it should for casual conversation between the two of them but Joshua doesn’t seem to mind, gently resting his head on Minghao’s shoulder for a few seconds; the weight of it is familiar, Joshua always gets a little handsy when he’s drunk and Minghao has been a victim several times in the past, but this time, Minghao can’t seem to smell the traces of tequila or rosé on him, just his shampoo, the expensive coconut one he knows Joshua steals from Seungcheol.
“You have a nice voice. I could tell you were in high-school choir.” Minghao finally replies, lamely.
Joshua has probably heard better efforts at flirting but he hums anyway, genuinely delighted, and Minghao swears he feels the vibration up to his chest. Joshua lifts his head off Minghao’s shoulder and he’s smiling shyly, “C’mon, I’ll bring you to your dorm. Seokmin secretly wants to sleep over because Jeonghan called dibs on our couch. He’s just waiting for him to offer to share.”
Minghao is embarrassed with the way he wants to say yes— but the memory of the last time they were in the backseat of a car together and all the million what-if’s that came the morning after still haunt him. Minghao can’t tell Joshua the intimacy passenger seats mean to him. How there will be things like: their hands accidentally touching in the dark as they drive along the city’s shitty roads; the songs on the radio sounding like they’re coming from another planet, making Minghao forget all three languages he knew; the red streetlight on Joshua’s upturned mouth stopping Minghao from slotting his mouth over his.
“You’ve been drinking.” Minghao replies, weakly. Minghao is refusing, but what he really means for Joshua to do is the opposite; hopes he’d fight for it, hopes this would mean something to him when it means the world to Minghao.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Joshua says, leaning so close Minghao sees a faded mole he’s never noticed, “I’ve been pretending to be drunk the whole night.”
Minghao is seated on the passenger seat, trying to make himself small so he doesn’t mess this up. Conversation has been stilted and the end of the night was starting to look very bleak for him. Joshua still has him feeling nervous, out of his skin, it makes Minghao want to unzip it all and to let Joshua to see him just the way he was and still want to stay. Next to him, Joshua’s leg bounces at every red light, fingers tapping on the wheel. Minghao can only watch Joshua from the periphery of his eyesight, too afraid to look at him directly; Joshua is a little sun with the way city lights and car headlights blur into one color and direct their spotlight on him. Minghao will probably wake up with a sunburn instead of bruises on his neck tomorrow.
“You said you knew the way to my dorm.” Minghao breaks the silence, he’s been too busy staring that he didn’t even notice Joshua had turned at the wrong street and added twenty minutes more to their drive until after the fact.
“I do.” Joshua smiles, just a hint of teeth, “I just wanted to take the long way home to your place. Is that okay?”
Joshua chooses that moment to break away from the road to turn to Minghao. Joshua catches him then, the stupid look on Minghao’s face, a pleased smile that was just a little too hopeful.
“It’s alright, thanks again.” Minghao replies softly. “Also, I’m sorry if I’m being the worst passenger ever right now, it’s just that–”
You make me forget how to speak–
All my thoughts run away too fast and I can’t catch up to them–
It’s just so hard to be alone in a car with you–
Ever since the last time when we–
I can’t stop thinking about when you–
When your hands–
When I didn’t–
“–my social battery has just been a little drained from earlier.” Minghao says instead.
“No, me too, actually,” Joshua laughs and shakes his head, “You’re the only person I can, like, just– I don’t know. Everyone’s so loud and that’s fine, I like that, but when I’m alone with you, I don’t feel the need to fill up the silence. I like just being quiet with you. It feels enough.”
And something untangles in Minghao’s chest then, whatever weight that he had been carrying, all the expectations and daydreams he’s had about moments of stolen intimacy like this– he realizes, he has it now. Minghao doesn’t have to be more than anything he has to be. The night is endless, the moon doesn’t seem to go down, and the road back home feels longer than it is even if Joshua didn’t purposely take that wrong turn. The silence is a lot more comfortable now, but sometimes Minghao breaks it to tell Joshua something funny Junhui said the other day and Joshua will reply with something Jeonghan did that should definitely be considered slightly illegal.
Minghao isn’t sure how they got to the topic now, maybe it was all the alcohol getting mixed up in his stomach or maybe it was just how tonight felt so perfect and how Minghao had been happy, that he’s undressing his heart to tell Joshua how he’s afraid of graduating and losing everything he has now.
“It’s just– everything is so unsure, you know? Mingyu’s thinking about grad school abroad and Seokmin is going to work for his dad. I’ve spent every day of the last four years with them and I don’t really know what I want to do now. It’s like, you guys are right next to me, but it already feels like everyone’s already moved on.”
They’re at a red light three minutes away from his dorm when Minghao says it, and Joshua turns to look at him, something serious but soft in his eyes, “Hao. I think you’re going to be great no matter what you do, and it’s okay if you won’t be, nobody really knows what they’re doing.”
There’s a beat of silence as Joshua takes a left turn, Minghao doesn’t speak, sensing Joshua was going to say something more— Joshua-isms and all that; there’s a faraway look on his face, his lips pursed like he was thinking hard.
“You’re always going to have us here, you know.” Joshua finally adds delicately, “I’ll tell you now, it won’t ever be the same as it is now, but it doesn’t have to be.”
“Maybe I’m just being dramatic, I don’t know.” Minghao mumbled, touching the back of his neck, feeling all the blood rush up to his face in embarrassment; he liked it more when it was Joshua who played with the sensitive skin there; Minghao wishes he could tell him that. “But you don’t know either.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know about anyone else, but I know I’ll be here.”
Joshua only smiles at him then, sensing the sensitivity of the topic and letting him drop it, but he reaches over to squeeze Minghao’s hand, once, twice, thrice (Minghao knows because it matches the quick, stuttering rhythm of his heartbeat) before it returns to the steering wheel just as the light turns green.
With Joshua’s eyes away from him, Minghao finally lets himself look at him freely, and there’s this: Joshua’s flushed ears, nervous wide eyes reflecting the moon, the peeling skin around his thumb from when he bites his nails; this little collection of Joshua-isms that Minghao has collected over the years. Minghao is looking but what he sees is a supercut of him wanting Joshua for as long as he’s known him– his pink ears the same color as the disastrous pink polo Joshua wore the first time Minghao met him; familiar eyes that always stayed a few seconds too long and too heavy for it to be platonic; the backseat of Jeonghan’s car after going bar hopping a city away, Joshua plastered to his side, drunk from the tequila Seungkwan had poured directly into his mouth, his head on Minghao’s shoulder and his thumb tracing patterns on Minghao’s skin the whole ride home.
They never talked about that night after, because friends do that. It’s normal. Minghao has probably done worse with Soonyoung– but how come every morning after that, whenever Joshua sang his love songs for everyone to listen to, it sounded like it’s for only Minghao.
“Shua,” Minghao calls for him, softly; quiet because it’s only for Joshua to hear, not the moon, not the sky full of stars, not the fear that was slowly crawling up his throat. Joshua turns his head just as the light turns green, it washes over his face and bathes him in the color. It’s a green light but neither of them move.
Minghao isn’t sure if he says it aloud, his heartbeat so loud it drowns everything out, “Can I?”
But Minghao is already moving in closer, closer, and closer, and– here he is, inches from Joshua’s face, “I’m going to kiss you now.”
And the distance between them is gone. The kiss is hesitant, Minghao briefly slotting his lips over Joshua’s, the brief taste of soda still on Joshua’s upturned smile registering just as Minghao pulls away. Joshua chases after him, surges forward and kisses him again and again and again until the sugar disappears off mouth and all Minghao can taste is himself. Joshua must be drunk from all the tequila still clinging to Minghao’s tongue.
“You’re here,” Minghao is breathless, pulling away to rest his forehead on Joshua’s, he sighs and Joshua breathes in his air.
“I told you, I’ll always be.” Joshua says and he’s smiling with all his teeth. “I’ve always been here. I was starting to think you just weren’t interested.”
“I was definitely into you before you were into me.”
“Mmh, maybe. But I’m the one who’s been carrying a guitar around everywhere in an attempt to impress you.”
“You looked like an asshole, by the way. Serenading me with shitty love songs is not the way to my heart.”
Joshua raises a delicate eyebrow at that, “You’re here now, aren’t you?”
“Against my better judgment.” Minghao replies humorlessly, but he knows there’s a smile on his face because Joshua is mirroring it. “Also because I needed a ride home. I’m reconsidering the decision now that we’ve reached our destination.”
“Give me another chance then,” Joshua whines, laughing as he leans in to steal another kiss from Minghao, fingers sneaking to the back of his neck. “Give me a hint, what song should I sing next time?”
“Something in Chinese. A traditional folk song, my mom would like that.” Minghao answers thoughtfully as Joshua plays with his hair.
“You’re going to introduce me to her?” Joshua asks, looking pleased with the information (it’s because the smile lines above his mouth are making an appearance; Minghao doesn’t need his PhD in Joshua-isms to know, it was the first thing he noticed three years ago).
“Only if you learn it.” Minghao replies and then adds hastily, “and of course, only if you want to, and like, if this is something serious because if it isn’t and we aren’t on the same page and I’m being too intense right now, then, like–”
“Hao.” Joshua says, and that’s all he says for a very long time. The longer Minghao looked at him, the more Minghao was starting to think he was ruining a good thing, that the two of them were both a trainwreck waiting to happen. The butterflies in his stomach turn into something sour, this thing that mixes with anxiety and fear.
“What about I’ll drive by and bring breakfast tomorrow because I know you have the worst hangovers in the world. And then we go back to your dorm and make out, and when we get tired, I’ll put my Spotify on shuffle until you find a love song you’ll let me sing to you. What do you think about that?”
“I told you love songs aren’t the way to my heart.” Minghao replies weakly.
“It doesn’t have to be. It just has to be our song, just this thing that you’d let me sing to you forever.”
“Forever?”
– Minghao doesn’t know how to keep something for that long.
“For as long as you want me then.”
“What if I hate your voice?
– Having someone to care for him that much sounds like a very scary responsibility to carry.
Joshua smiles softly, “There’s nothing we can do about that, but you’re here now, aren’t you?”
Minghao finally falls silent, unable to find anything wrong with this whole situation. It doesn’t make sense, really. Minghao has wanted this for so long, but now that it’s here, just a few inches away from him, across the other side of the car, he doesn’t know what to do with it.
“Hey, Minghao.” Joshua calls to him, and he’s not singing, but the way Minghao’s name falls from his mouth sounds like a love song anyway, maybe Minghao can be convinced to reroute his bloodstream after all; for all the roads and folk songs and love stories to begin with Joshua singing and to end at Minghao’s heart. “We’ve been friends for so long and it’s been so easy, we just get to kiss now.”
And Minghao’s had a lot of Oh moments centered around Joshua in the past couple of years, this thing where Minghao feels his heart stutter and skip a beat, when he realizes: Oh. I don’t want to be his friend, I want to kiss him– but this time, Minghao can. Minghao leans in then, because Joshua said so; because they’re friends who can kiss each other on the mouth with it meaning something now; because if he doesn’t, Minghao doesn’t know where to put all of the vibrating energy he has thrumming underneath his skin. Joshua kisses him back, sweet and chaste, just a hint of tongue gliding through his lips.
Minghao thinks he could live like this forever, but a car behind them blasts their horn and interrupts their moment before overtaking them. Dazed, Minghao pulls away just as Joshua laughs nervously, we should probably go before we get caught. Joshua doesn’t stray too far away, he keeps one hand on the wheel and the other over Minghao’s. Joshua drives slow, tries to keep the last few kilometers to Minghao’s dorm last as long as possible.
Joshua parks outside his building and before Minghao can even hesitate, Joshua’s back into his orbit. They end up making out way too long outside Minghao’s dorm, the lobby’s lights are on and Minghao sees the faint outline of someone’s disapproving figure standing by the entrance. Whatever. Joshua is mortified, though, under the impression he has to make a good impression on the staff as well, lest Minghao’s parents hear about this, which Minghao shouldn’t find this endearing.
“What time will you come around tomorrow?” Minghao asks, leaning down Joshua’s window; everything feels like a dream but he feels sober right now.
“I’ll call you before I leave, you know it’s like a twenty minute drive.”
“‘Kay, I’ll try to get up by then. Don’t forget to bring your guitar.”
“I won’t. I’m going to start learning, like, five new songs when I get home later.”
“It’s late.” Minghao feels his face flush, he laughs and he realizes his cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling too much. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I am, but I really do want to give you all of my heart in a little song.”
“You don’t have to.” Minghao smiles, feels the blood rush to his ears, it sounds like ocean waves, “You already have.”
“There will always be more. I want to learn it all until you hear me in everything.”
And Minghao doesn’t insist, doesn’t tell Joshua, really, you already have; he doesn’t tell him of his PhD in Joshua-isms and how he knows everything there was to know now; Minghao just lets him. Minghao lets the feeling wash over him, of being wanted, of living in a dream within a dream. They kiss one last time, a whispered goodbye in-between mouths, and Minghao isn’t sure if it’s in his head or from the radio, but he can hear the chorus of Sunday Morning play.