Leal [Minwon]

Chapter 5- Treading the Edge of Silence

"You gonna be okay in London on your own?"

Mingyu glances up from the t-shirt in his hands, the fabric slipping softly between his fingers as he folds it with deliberate care. Minghao's question lingers in the air, quiet but piercing in its simplicity. Mingyu's only bringing one suitcase, packing just the bare essentials for a trip that's supposed to be about work, not emotions. His clothes are sparse, most of the suitcase consumed by his photography gear, but that's all he really needs anyway. He's always been a light packer when it comes to things that are tangible. It's the emotional baggage that he can't seem to shed.

"Of course, Myungho-ya," he replies, his tone steady, though there's a slight tremor beneath the surface. He smiles faintly, eyes dropping back to his packing. "I'm not five."

Minghao doesn't seem convinced. A fond, almost sad smile tugs at his lips as he rolls his eyes, like he's indulging Mingyu in a little game. He gets up from the bed, crossing the small space between them, and crouches down next to him. For a moment, the only sound is the soft rustle of clothes as Minghao picks up a stray hoodie from the floor and starts folding it.

"It'll be weird not seeing you for a week," Minghao mutters, his voice quieter now, more intimate. It's not a statement to fill the silence—it's an admission.

Mingyu pauses, the shirt in his hands slipping from his grasp slightly, before he corrects it with forced focus. "It's just ten days," he says with a faint smile, trying to lighten the moment. "I'll be back before you know it. You're so clingy."

"It's like we're dating," Minghao quips, but there's a tenderness in the tease, something deeper hidden in the joking words.

Mingyu chuckles softly, but even that feels a little forced, like a reflex he's forgotten how to perform. "Yeah, back off," he replies, waving Minghao away playfully, though he doesn't actually want the other man to leave. His hand drops back to the suitcase, his laugh fading quickly, like the sound of it was never really there to begin with.

Lately, he's been living in these fleeting moments of pretend happiness. Moments where he can forget, if only for a heartbeat, the ache gnawing at his insides. It's been two years since everything with Wonwoo shattered, but the weight of it still sits heavy on his chest, crushing and relentless. He's not okay, not really. And he's not sure he remembers what 'okay' feels like anymore.

But he's gotten good at pretending.

The last conversation with Wonwoo had left him feeling gutted, raw in a way that no argument ever should. There's no chance of fixing what's broken between them—not anymore. Maybe there never was. But after all the anger, after all the nights spent raging at a situation neither of them knew how to handle, something quieter has settled inside him. Not peace. It's far too painful for that. But a truce, perhaps. A fragile acceptance that hovers somewhere between resignation and longing.

He can talk to Wonwoo now, sometimes. But it never feels easy. The awkward silences, the unspoken words, the heavy past hanging between them—it's suffocating.

"Have fun, Mingyu." Minghao's voice pulls him back to the present, and there's a softness in it that makes Mingyu's chest ache in a way he can't quite explain. He glances over at Minghao, who's busy shoving a pair of sneakers into the corner of the suitcase, as if he's making space not just for clothes, but for something more—something unspoken. Minghao looks up, and his eyes are warm, soft. "I know you'll do great. No matter what."

Mingyu swallows, his throat tight. "Yah..." He forces another laugh, but it feels hollow, even to him. "I'm going to work, not war."

Minghao's lips twitch into a half-smile, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "It's your first time out of the country in years. It's a big deal."