It Ends with Us • Kim Mingyu

[sixteen]

This chapter is a bit long. Take your time to read. I promise, shorter and sweeter stuffs are coming. Haggard parts will be long over. (Or not?) hehe, thank you as always! With love, have a wonderful spring ahead♡

. . .

Two days later~

Later at the night, Mingyu comes to my room.

"We're done. Everything's done." He says, sprawling across my bed. His face is pressed against the mattress, long legs hanging lifelessly from the bed. He's wearing a green polo shirt with adidas shorts, smelling mildly of sweats and cinnamon body wash.

I look up from my laptop, pausing on the episode of Gilmore girls I was watching lying on the bed.

"What did they say?" I ask.

"Nothing." Mingyu murmurs. "I don't know if they read it yet."

"Read? You didn't talk to them in person?"

"I wrote it on a letter. It's on the dinning table. They're going to notice it when they pass by, right?"

A gush of heat rises to my head. Mingyu was supposed to disclose everything to the boys today. I was awake for this exact reason till now (it's almost twelve, I go to sleep at about 9), but now I don't understand a thing he's saying.

I quickly open Facebook on my laptop and text Jeonghan (his fake ID) on messenger.

'Don't throw the paper away on the dining table if you see it. It's from Mingyu.' I write. It's the least I can do.

Jeonghan replies almost immediately. 'What paper? What does he want?'

'You wanted to know what happened with him.' I write. 'It's all there. Read it.'

'Why's it on a paper?'

I turn to Mingyu. "Why is it on a paper?" I ask. I'm curious too.

Mingyu sits up and peers over my laptop screen. "Shit." he bites his lower lip. "Tell him that I - tell him it's awkward in person."

'It's awkward in person.' I write, but it's riskier writing a letter. Mingyu has nearly unreadable handwriting. If no one understand anything, it'll just be more task.

Three dots hover over the keyboard before sinking into oblivion. A single-worded text pops up. Jeonghan writes, 'Ok' and goes offline. I heave a sigh and close the app.

"He'll read it. Preferably now." I say. "You wrote it decent, right? Can they read through the sentences?"

"Of course - I don't have that bad handwriting."

"Oh, it's bad. Unworldly bad. I wish I was kidding, but that's the truth."

Mingyu knocks his head against the headboard, murmuring in a way I can only recognize as a dog whining in a crate. I pat his back, comically enough. He points a seat next to him, telling me to come closer. I do, shutting the laptop and putting it aside. I nestle into his arm and rest my head on his chest. I gaze at our feet. Mine is about a palm higher from his ankles. It's insane how well he grew in these years. We used to be of similar heights in high school, but now I look more like his child -- weird weird weird thoughts. I should stop watching kdramas.

"At least, it's over." Mingyu says quietly. "After all these years, it's over. I poured it all out. I don't have anything left to say to them."

"That's great, right? Don't you feel lighter?"

"I feel exhausted. Like I did manual labor for weeks without food and water."

"That's understandable too." I say. We exchange eye contact for a brief moment, then Mingyu looks at the ceiling.