Chapter Text
THUD.
Ryan had half expected never to make contact with the ground again. With as much mind-numbing, reality-bending, wool-over-the-eyes bullshit as he’d seen and felt in the past couple of months, the door easily could’ve been another trick. He could’ve been trapped in danger-therapy lingo for the rest of his natural life.
The air is sharp and startlingly cold in a way he hadn’t felt for a while, and Ryan peeks an eye open.
No icebergs. No red rock. No floating rolling pin.
Everything is fuzzy and dark, but he can just barely make out the dark silhouettes of pine branches hanging above his head, blocking out the sky. He opens his other eye, and his head throbs. No doubt due to a bump he knows for sure he’s going to need to put ice on.
Before he can move to try and look for his glasses, Ryan feels a mass shift against him.
The mass of course, being his best friend.
Min-Gi stirs and lets out a confused wince, lifting his head to take in his surroundings.
Ryan can feel Min-Gi’s arm slide out from under his shoulder and he watches his fuzzy silhouette push himself up into a sitting position.
“We made it. We… We’re out!” he stammers, a small laugh punctuating his words. “Ryan. Look. We’re out.”
“Dude, I literally can’t!” Ryan snaps as he starts to flip himself over onto his stomach, and his shoulder which bore the brunt of the impact aches in protest. Despite the flash of pain, he pushes himself up onto his knees and begins to scan the dark expanse of fuzz around him for his glasses.
He hears grass rustling and Min-Gi’s legs eclipse his vision. In the low light, he can make out the bright red of his glasses frames in his friend’s hand, which is outstretched to him.
“Thanks,” Ryan huffs, taking the glasses and quickly shoving them onto his face. Min-Gi grabs his hand to hoist him up, and Ryan’s heart starts to hum with relief. There were several moments during their narrow escape to the door that he feared they wouldn't make it out together, or that neither of them would've made it out at all. Feeling Min-Gi's hand under his serves as reassurance that he's real, and that he's safe.
As soon as he’s stood up, Ryan quickly throws his weight forward and wraps Min-Gi in a tight bear-hug. It takes a second for Min-Gi to return the embrace, burying his head deep into his shoulder and holding on to his back and his head as if he might slip away.
Ryan presses his forehead into the crook of Min-Gi’s neck and shuts his eyes hard. He doesn't care that clutching him like this continues to make his shoulder hurt. If left here long enough, maybe he could just fall asleep.
“We’re home,” Ryan mumbles with the exhausted sort of glee one might feel after finishing a marathon.
Home.
The word seems to knock something loose in Min-Gi’s heart; Ryan can hear his breath hitch before he stiffens up and drops his arms to his sides and walks past him.
So much for that.
He turns to get bearing for their surroundings and his heart stops dead for just a second. Ryan was so sure the train would just drop them off in the street between their homes. Well... His home and the home that Min-Gi’s leaving behind.
Instead, they're standing in the middle of their childhood sanctuary; Jenning’s Park. A place where imaginary concerts were held, scrapes and bruises were sustained, and they were the most free they will ever be in their lives. He can make out the shape of the recreation shelter a little ways ahead, and feels a flash of embarrassment that he hadn’t heard the lake’s waves lapping against the nearby shore.
“It’s… Jenning’s,” Ryan notes, his heart flitting with an intoxicating mix of relief and nostalgia. “...Man. How long do you think it’s been since we’ve been here?”
Min-Gi responds almost immediately with, “Prom night. We ditched, remember?”
Remember? There wasn’t anything about that night he could possibly forget. A disaster turned bonding experience, and one of the last nights he saw his best friend genuinely smile in the past couple of years. There's so much he could say about that night, about how he felt invincible, and about how he realized for the third time in his life that he was in love with his best friend.
Ryan discards those thoughts before he can speak. “Oh, right, right. Glad we left when we did. If I had to stick around that stuffy-ass gym in a suit for any longer I think I would've Hulked out. And I'm pretty sure you were seconds away from getting ambushed by Sara's girl squad." He laughs a little. "Man, that feels so long ago, especially after--” Before he could finish his sentence, he notices Min-Gi’s already a good ten feet in front of him. “Hey! Rude!” he calls as he runs to catch up. “What’re you--”
“What are we going to tell them?” Min-Gi asks, his voice shaky and tight. His brow’s scrunched up and his nose is slightly wrinkled, the way it always does when he’s got too much on his mind, and whatever elation Ryan felt at being somewhere familiar falls straight to the ground.
“Tell… oh. Right. Family.”
“Our families. We’ve been gone for fuck-knows how long.”
“...I guess that’s a good point."
They’ve reached the playground by now, and the crunch of frozen wood chips under their feet fills the awkward few seconds of silence it takes for them to reach the swings and plop down into them. For a second, Ryan remembers being ten, sailing through the air, both he and Min-Gi fumbling through the lyrics of Rocket Man at the top of their lungs (much to the annoyance of anyone present that day).
He's almost crushed by the realization that it's now so quiet.
Ryan cuts into the silence with, “...Can’t exactly show up after missing and be all, ‘Hey, I know you thought I was dead, but I’m not! I was just on some crazy magic murder train! What’s up? Got any leftovers in the fridge?’”
He pushes his feet in the ground a bit to rock the swing and looks over at his friend, hoping his joke can bring even a trace of his smile back. Min-Gi just looks all the more worried. His eyes are wide, staring holes into the ground, and his knuckles on the hand gripping the swing chain are nearly white. The dirt and scrapes on his face look extra apparent now, and Ryan can only feel reluctantly thankful that he didn't get hurt any worse.
“...Oh, God. I didn’t think about that. Do you think they think we’re…”
Realizing his mistake, Ryan stretches his arm out and places his hand on Min-Gi’s shoulder. He feels so… tense under his hand. Maybe it was a bit foolish to think stepping off the hell-born-engine would solve all of their problems.
“I think they’ll be happy we’re alive. I mean, I’m pretty pleased about it myself. We probably totally smell like death, though. Your mom's totally gonna throw a fit over that.”
That earns a half-hearted chuckle from Min-Gi, and he looks over to Ryan with a sort of warmth in his eyes; The same warmth they had after they had kissed, and he could still feel Min-Gi’s breath on his face.
The very thought sends fire right to Ryan’s stomach.
Min-Gi quickly trades that expression for a solemn one. He doesn’t look as worried as before, but he certainly looks… troubled.
“...I probably missed my application deadline.”
Ryan still doesn’t understand how he can escape certain mortal peril and still find something to stress over. They were just slapped around by every freaky robot under the Sun, and he’s still thinking about something so… mundane. He flinches at the thought that Min-Gi can't even let himself be happy he survived for more than a minute.
“Are you still gonna go to UBC?”
Min-Gi nods almost apologetically. “...Yeah, I… I do. I know that’s not what you wanted me to say.”
In all honesty? Min-Gi’s absolutely right. Ryan wants him to stay by his side. He wants to sit on the back porch with him like old times, instruments in hand and backs against each-other. He wants to take their first gig together, and watch the crowd cheer for the both of them. And really, kind of, sort of just wants to be in his arms again. But the look on Min-Gi’s face, nervous and apologetic, throws a cold spike of shame right into Ryan’s chest; He can't just hold someone he loves hostage like that.
“No, no, I get it,” he replies quietly. “I can’t just hold you back, man. It’s a really good opportunity. I mean… I won’t get to see you much, but… I’ll still get to see you on your breaks, right?”
Slowly, gently, he slides his hand down from Min-Gi’s shoulder to grab his hand. It’s hard to see in the low light, but he’s sure he can see a gentle flush spread across Min-Gi’s face as he reluctantly closes his hand around Ryan’s and averts his gaze.
“Yeah… Yeah, absolutely. I’ll probably come back as often as I can.” Min-Gi seems to relax a little, remaining thoughtfully quiet for a second and gently rocking his swing. “How about you? You better not give up on music.”
Ryan offers him a triumphant smirk. “Oh, you know I won’t. I've already planned out my, like, next three songs. But…” His smile clears, and Min-Gi examines him curiously.
“But?”
“...Are we ever gonna play together again?”
This question seems to disarm Min-Gi. He shuffles a little in his seat (it doesn’t help that the swing is much too small for a full-grown adult), and for just a second his eyes settle somewhere far beyond the both of them. He looks downright mournful.
“I think so. But, Ryan, I need to do this. Figure out what I want to be. Maybe for me…” he trails, gripping Ryan’s hand tighter. “Music’s just a me-and-you thing.”
A me-and-you thing.
That’s what it had always been. Back-to-back, side-to-side, face-to-face, strumming or tapping or singing to the wind and anyone who will listen. It was the same when they were four, it’s the same sixteen years later.
Two months prior, Ryan wouldn’t have understood that the music was never about the skill, sound, or career potential. Perhaps it’s a little embarrassing that it took a fight, a floating bell, a kiss, and more near-death experiences than he could count to realize that playing music was about them; The culmination of their friendship, or whatever this quasi-romantic limbo was, always lied within the notes he played. That’s where his home is. Their home. And while he doesn’t want to play without him, he knows he can play for him.
“Yeah…” Ryan nods, lips curling up into a gentle smile.
“I like the sound of that.”
Despite it all, a seed of uncertainty burrows its roots deeper into Ryan’s mind. A feeling he can’t shake off plagues him as he idly swings, clutching his lifelong companion’s hand like a lifeline.
Early December cold grips their bones on their walk home, and their (thankfully minor) wounds make their presence harder to ignore, but it doesn’t stop either of them from talking the entire way home. They talk about anything and everything. First about their varying range of life-threatening adventures that are sure to rob them of sleep, then about some story they’d made as kids, then about the good food they dearly miss and are eager to have again. Once or twice, they debate over what the hell to tell their parents, still unable to reach any sort of conclusion that'd avoid a total breakdown.
Something unspoken continues to impede Ryan’s train of thought, and his right hand burns ever so slightly. He notices that deep wrinkle of worry never really left Min-Gi’s face.
Nevertheless, they continue to speak until they’re too far down a familiar street to continue. Min-Gi’s house looms on one side of them, Ryan’s on the other. They stand still in the road in-between.
Ryan opens his mouth to try and force out a half-hearted goodbye and goodnight, but Min-Gi speaks before he can.
“What are we going to do?”
“I-- Huh? We already talked about that.” Ryan scrunches his face in confusion. “You told me you were going to BCU, and I’m going t-”
“About us, Ryan,” Min-Gi replies sternly, sending that seed of uncertainty at the back of Ryan’s mind into full blossom. Under the dim glow of the street light above them, Ryan’s now sure he can see Min-Gi flush.
“...Oh.”
“We can’t just--”
“I know.”
“Especially when--”
“I know, Min,” Ryan cuts in. He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, wishing that just maybe he could’ve thought about that before he… “We can just pretend it didn’t happen. That neither of us said anything, and…”
Min-Gi shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “No-- That’s half of what got us stuck on that goddamn train in the first place. And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”
Perhaps the shock that Min-Gi wants him just as much shouldn’t keep coming as a shock to Ryan, but he can’t help but feel his cheeks burn at the notion. But it’s not comforting here as it should be; They’re back in the real world. And the real world points fingers, accusations, and fire at gay men like them. A disease, they call it in whispers as they refuse a handshake for fear of catching something the world hasn't seen before. The erosion of pure values, they argue as they sign death warrants thinly veiled as laws made out of concern. I don’t know where we went wrong, Ryan pictures his mom confessing as she can't bring herself to look at her own son. His stomach turns violently at the thought, and as he considers the physical harm they could face, he feels absolutely sick.
Hell, even Min-Gi’s not comfortable enough to directly reference their romantic feelings as anything but ‘us’. How is an 'us' anything but a bad idea?
Ryan shifts uncomfortably, pinning his gaze to the ground. “Me neither.” He raises his head to look back at Min-Gi and almost wants to wince at his concerned expression. “It’s not like we can tell anyone, though. It's too risky. And you’re leaving before too long, so…”
“Do you think we…” Min-Gi hesitates, looking puffed up, stiff, and uncomfortable. It’s clear he’s searching for the right words to use. Or perhaps he knows them, but still finds them too poisonous to speak. “...Shouldn’t?”
Euphemism will have to work for the time-being.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t like that any more than you do. It took so long to understand that I wanted to--” Ryan’s voice breaks. “--To love you, y'know?”
Min-Gi looks to each side, like he’s afraid someone could’ve heard in the dead of night. The word love seems to strike a similar chord to home.But this time, he swallows his fear just a little and grabs both of Ryan’s hands. “I guess we… have time to figure it out? It’ll be a couple of months before I can enroll.”
Ryan looks down at their hands, then back up at Min-Gi. The uncertainty kills him, and it must be killing Min-Gi even faster. For the time-being, maybe it’s enough to know that he loves his best friend in the truest sense of the word. Maybe it’s enough to know that he’s loved back. Maybe it’s enough to know that it’s okay. Not safe, sure, but okay.
“Yeah, I…” He sighs and buries his previous thought before it can be spoken. “Yeah. So what do we do now?”
“...I guess we rip off the band-aid. Tell our families we’re home and prepare for imminent nuclear meltdown,” Min-Gi responds slowly. It’s not the answer he wants to give, and not the answer Ryan wants to hear.
Nonetheless, he nods in agreement, nervously chewing the inside of his lip. He can't even come up with a joke to break the tension.
They stand still for a second, neither wanting to say goodbye. The hum of the lights on the road makes the silence stiff and unbearable enough to make Ryan’s skin crawl, and he begins to tap on Min-Gi’s hand with his thumbs.
“Hey, uh… Min?” he asks, cautiously throwing a look either way before offering his… friend a sly grin.
“...Yeah?”
He pulls one of his hands out of Min-Gi’s grasp and reaches up for the collar of his jacket, tugging him forward to kiss him. This time softer than before and all too short, but with just as much of his heart behind his lips. He can feel his face burn against his own as he presses back, and wonders for just a second if they could stay like that. The look on his love’s face when he pulls away is nothing short of starstruck, eyes widened just a bit and mouth pulled into a little smile. It’s the look of someone who's glad to be home.
“See ‘ya tomorrow,” Ryan says with as much smug energy as he can muster. Admittedly, his voice is a bit shakier than he wanted it to be; Sometimes you fumble the chords when you can’t afford to.
Min-Gi, however, responds in kind with a genuine smile this time. The kind that Ryan hadn’t seen on him since that night in the park when they were still full of foolish little dreams.
“I like the sound of that.”