extramundane (adj.)
/ɛkstrəˈmʌndeɪn/ outside or beyond the physical world.
- - -
two days of complete silence.
sorting books into shelves aimlessly, forcing on fake smiles, and organizing genres. pushing around the four-wheeled cart and greeting intrigued children with grins laced with sadness.
it was just minghao and the check-out desk. his only friend, probably.
was he complaining? no. should he be? maybe.
it was just so quiet.
so silent to the point that it was painful to walk through the library doors anymore, not hearing the usual giggles and bursts of laughter. not being able to feel the presence of someone he still craved the attention of.
the library was having a book fair soon. and since joshua only worked every other day, minghao was bound to be running the event by himself.
he was tired.
tired of feelings, tired of crying, tired of taking care of the library that brought him so many terribly sad memories.
did junhui know what he had done? no-- did he even care? minghao doubted it. it was okay. there were more important things to be upset about right now, jun had a fair reason for leaving.
it was all just...okay.
at least...it should be.
for the first time in a long time, minghao was considering sleeping his problems away.
- - -
jun looks up from where he was staring, facing the just as blank stare his mom wears, eyes dropping and bags prominent.
they've been sitting like this for a while now. a 'while', in jun's terms, would mean an hour or so. maybe two. maybe even three.
after jun broke up with minghao, he felt even colder and dense then he did before. was it emptiness? loneliness? regret?
but this is what he wanted, right? time to heal, time to stray away from someone who would be a distraction to his coping.
...or did he throw away the only thing that was helping him cope in the first place?
come to think of it-- what had he done? what did he...
jun blinks.
he broke up with minghao.
two days ago, on the floor of the library.
and minghao was crying, wasn't he? he was begging jun to stay and oh, god.
he broke up with minghao.
jun stands up. his mother doesn't notice as he walks outside. he makes eye contact with the sky, collecting his strewn thoughts in a messy string of who knows what. did he...really do that?
he messed up. he messed up big time.
things weren't supposed to be like that-- he misses the softness of their sweet relationship. what happened to making each other flustered and flashing smiles of adoration each other's way? mornings spent giggling and kissing, afternoons together in the library, snuggling and cuddling...
he missed the way he made minghao blush, the way the librarian would swat at his head in embarrassment, the underlying twinkle in his eyes everytime junhui complimented him.
and he deserved every single one of those compliments. he deserved way better than what jun had put him through, made him suffer with, abuse and play with his heart in such a cruel, cruel, manner.
after all, what was he? this was just being a teenager, facing the confused, indecisive thoughts that made him mess everything up.
but he didn't mean for minghao to have to deal with any of this.
maybe it was selfish to want those days back.
junhui wouldn't be surprised if minghao didn't accept his apology or allow him to redeem himself. he didn't deserve a second chance. in truth, he didn't deserve such an angelic being like minghao in the first place.
though he, somehow, knew that minghao was hurting. longing. and jun was too.
he loved him. ever since he had thrown that corny one-liner that made minghao's face a cherry red, jun knew he was whipped. he was infatuated, and still is.
with a glance towards organic shaped clouds, jun sets one foot in front of the other, walking the familiar route back to where it all started.
- - -
"here you go. come back soon."
the girl smiles at him before waving and exiting the library. minghao immediately sinks back into his chair with a heaved sigh. a boy walks in and takes a seat on a nearby couch, legs propped up and book pulled close. it begins to rain, soft music playing through the tiny radio next to him, and for some reason, the scene feels all too...familiar.
he gazes towards the ticking clock across from him, watching the hour hand stay put and eyes trailing after the minutes. minghao's hand finds itself under his chin, resting and staring. maybe, if he looks hard enough, time will fly past and it'll be time to curl up in the warmth of his home, eating takeout for dinner.
minghao thinks of jun, and he doesn't know why.
then again, when is he not thinking of jun? he's in love with the damn student. even after whatever happened days ago. he still loves him.
too deep in thought, he doesn't process the sound of the doors creaking open. or the sound of splashing rain against the windows. even the sound of feet walking along the carpeted floor.
the ring of the bell against the counter is enough to grasp minghao, having him stand up in the systematic process he's made for himself, looking down and adjusting his glasses before meeting the customer's gaze.
"hello, how can i help--"
there his lover stands, clad in the soppiest jacket, hood pulled up and over his wet black hair, wearing his stupid smile that makes the scene from months ago come back to life. even his lip is pulled in between his teeth like it was back then, eyes crinkling at the corners as he hands minghao the book.
"i'd like to return this, please."
