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feel199x · 5 years

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gang member!au, gang member! han jisung, florist! reader, underground band!au

chapters: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X masterlist

song rec: dayfly by dean & half moon

warnings: angst, gun mention

”Miinho,” Jisung swung his legs off the bed, ignoring the shooting pain he felt, “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s coming, that dickhead from N/S.”

“How? He never did before.”

“I don’t know!”

“Then how do you know?”

“___ called.”

“What? Are they okay? I miss ___ so much, Minho please-”

“We don’t have time!”

Minho had no idea what state you were in, and if you were dead- how was he supposed to explain that to Jisung? That you had traded your life for theirs? Minho didn’t even understand, and he doubted that Jisung would either. Maybe it was wrong, but telling him wouldn’t be right either. God, how could he? When Minho heard him talking in his sleep, talking about you, dreaming about you, how could he? At least not now, he knew how Jisung was- emotional and impulsive. Everyone was down in their backup hideout, Chan and Woojin being smart enough to at least suspect that their location would be compromised. They had nearly forgotten about him and his condition after hearing the voicemail you had left. Minho was glad he had taken Jisung’s phone, and even more content that he was nosy. If he hadn’t checked the voicemail, who knows how this situation would end.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

Minho watched as Jisung stumbled, hands gripping the nightstand. Minho pulled Jisung, and leaned, helping Jisung get on his back. It wasn’t the most graceful, but it worked.

“Fucking liar. Do you think now is the time to be macho?”

The cellar was deep underground, damp and dark- rotten. The wood of the stairs was wet, splinters sticking out like split-ends. Deep under the earth, hidden from all good and bad to sit in true neutrality. It smelled like wet earth too, but not the fresh smell- the kind where you knew there was something rotting underneath. It was under the house still, but a lot harder to find than one would expect. There was an unspoken hatred for the fact that they were all there, the mess they had found themselves into you and the heat of hatred was rising, boiling over.

“You could have gotten killed. You need to be smarter.”

Chan had his arms crossed, tapping his foot like a mother whose child was late for curfew

“He’s here, isn't he?”

“That’s not the problem, Minho- You had one job. You know they’re here for Jisung.”

Felix spoke up from the back of the room, a scowl on his face. It wasn’t personal Minho knew, but he still thickened the tension in the room.

“Shove that self-righteousness up your ass, Felix. Do you know how much he weighs?”

“Oh, suck-”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!”

Chan pushed both of the boys away from one another, knowing there was no way this could end well. The boys glared at one another, but backed off- it wasn’t worth it.

“I have an idea.”

“Finally putting those two brain cells to work, huh?”

The nine of them had never fought before, all these years together had run rather smoothly- some petty quarrels here and there, but never anything serious. But then again, they had never been in a situation like this before, and it was pushing their unity and friendship to the limits. They had to snap from frustration at some point.

“The fuck is your problem?”

“Everyone told you to be careful! Literally what kind of shit luck do we have that you had to fall in love with a gang member’s manic pixie dream girl?”

“His what?”

“His wet dream, you dumbass!”

“Are you seriously trying to blame me for this? Instead of, I don’t know, feeling bad for ____ since the guy is fucking nuts?”

Changbin wasn’t one to get particularly vocal about his anger, he had a temper- everyone knew, but for him to snap at a friend? That was something else. Whenever Changbin got angry, he would always opt to isolate until he cooled down- never, never had he snapped at any of them. Changbin was soft, and never wanted to hurt anyone, even if he did get angry fairly easily. But for both Jisung and Changbin to be at each other’s necks? Never.

“You should’ve left. It’s always been nine or none.”

“We are all they had!”

Changbin’s face softened at the realization and took a deep breath. Jisung was right, this wasn’t your fault- and there was no one to blame except the kingpin of N/S. It was an unfortunate situation they found themselves, one consequence piling on top of each other like dominoes until they piled up into the mess they currently found themselves in.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“We’re all just stressed, Jisung.”

Chan would’ve cut in earlier, but if Changbin had something to say- then he would let them vent. Changbin would never get physical, he knew. But if he had, then they had all already lost. There would be no way that any of them could cooperate if they would get physical over a slip of words.

“I don’t care, none of this is their fault. I don’t want to hear one word of blame- none of you know what they’ve been through.”

The room was beginning to become hot, but the tension in the air was fading as everyone let go of irrational anger.

“What was your idea?”

“My idea? Made with my two humble brain cells?”

Jisung lightened the mood, and everyone began to close in together- wanting to listen to Jisung’s plan. Things weren’t normal, far from it in fact, but at least they were all together. At least they had each other, at least they had unity. That was something that no music producer, no fight, no gang leader could take away. That’s what love was for them, unity against all storms, like roots of a tree- strong winds only made them stronger.

“We need something, anything.”

They pulled at their shirts, both unaware and pained by the room’s growing heat. They didn’t realize it yet.

“Why don’t we just kidnap the guy?”

“That would make us just as bad as him, Jisung we-”

“I think it’s a good idea.”

Woojin always agreed with Chan, they shared opinions on most things- and it made for a good co-leadership. They worked well together, but most importantly, Woojin was never one for violence. Chan turned to Woojin in surprise, shooting him a questioning look and scanning the room for their response.

“We don’t have to hurt him-”

“Just use him.”

“Fuck, it’s hot.” Changbin pulled at his black t-shirt as it stuck to his skin with sweat.

“Wow, she’s-” Changbin shot Hyunjin a warning look and Hyunjn quieted, an amused look on his face despite the situation.

“Shut the fuck up, we need to get out.”

“You think he’s gone?”

“Look.”

“Oh shit. Shit!”

It was less than image and more of a smell, black smoke found it’s way from the cracks of the door, rising up and smogging up the air. The bar was hot as Chan forced it open, a sting lingering on his hand. The boys filed outside, stopping to look at the small house beginning to envelop itself in flames. The ancient wood was burning easily and quickly turning black as the fire reaching higher and higher, the crisp air fueling it. Jisung was clenching his jaw, eyebrows furrowed in anger and distaste. When did things go so wrong? He knew the flower-shop break in was the turning point, but how did he let it get like this? He wanted to cry, out of anger or sadness he didn’t know. Was it guilt or was it blame, did he wasn to carry a burden or point a finger? How could he know? All he wanted was to get back to you.

“Hyunjin, go with Felix and find the guys.” Chan wasn’t happy about sending them off to search, but it would be less likely that they would feel threatened if they thought only two boys were at home. “Alone, are fucking crazy?”

“You both have guns.” It was risky, Chan knew, but as much as he hated it- a risk had to be taken. They couldn’t all go guns blazing for a threat that they weren’t sure they still had to make a decision, and fast.

“You don’t actually-”

“No.”

“It would be self-defense anyway.”

Minho wasn’t trying to be rude, but realistic- comforting in a weird way. He knew that the situation that they found themselves in, and he wasn’t trying to make it any words by getting in a petty brawl.

“Oh fuck off with the cynical bull-shit.”

Minho turned to Felix slightly surprised.

“Oh, I’m surprised you know that word! Good for you.”

“Can you guys shut the fuck up? The house is fucking burning.” Seungmin cut in distractedly, watching the house burn from the top down. Thank god for the voicemail. Everyone waited anxiously for the duo to return. Jeongin turned around the corner to see that there was only singular car there. The N/S kingpin clearly didn’t think it through, he had underestimated them before- how could he make the same mistake again? Jeongin called the rest of the boys over as he saw Felix and Hyunjin return with a trio of guys.

“We found them.”

“Chan, what do we do?”

The trio of guys kneeled down in front of Chan. Any worry that showed on Chan’s face slipped away as he gave a firm punch to the middle man’s face. Like Woojin, Chan wasn’t one for violence. But unlike Woojin, Chan was good at it.

“Are you going to tell us where your boss lives?”

It was a gruesome scene to see Chan twist the man’s broken nose as he muttered out a weak “Yes!” Chan let go, hand splattered with blood.

“Great, I’d really hate to hurt anyone anyway. I promise to not let the cops know.”

“We’re going to call the cops?”

“Is that a good idea?”

Chan turned to the boys, having enough of their petty quarreling and questioning, and if Chan lost it- it wasn’t going to be pretty for anyone.

“Who’s gonna tell them what we did? Not these guys, they’re ratting out a kingpin to save themselves.”

“Is that such a good idea though?”

Everyone watched as Seungmin pressed Chan’s buttons, and Changbin added: “Maybe it’s time we’ve paid for our sins.” It was an unspoken feeling in the group, a sense of guilt and manipulation that resided in them ever since they had started selling. They owed a lot of their success to the drugs they sold, and it seemed like they were less of artists because of it. “None of us are innocent.” Felix only muttered, but it was true to them. “I never wanted this-” Chan was beginning to break, his voice wavering and they stopped. They lead the trio of men back to the car, and quietly listened to their instructions. Driving away from the house going up in flames.

“We could leave this life behind, we have the funds, the fans-” It was sort of plea, a wish rather than a fact that came from Hyunjin’s mouth, and Jeongin finished his wishful thinking, becoming an escapist himself. “It could be over. It could finally all be over.”

The car ride was quiet. Everyone anxious about your state of being, they opted against calling the number back- it wasn’t safe after all. But there was no way to know how you were, and what he could’ve done.

“We’ve been in this car for too fucking long.”

“Are you complaining?”

“What? No! I’m not an asshole. I’m just saying it’s been a while.”

“He really went out of his way, huh?”

The car ride hadn’t been long, but long enough for Felix to get restless- he was just the most vocal about his discomfort. It was his way of making things seem more normal than they were, sugarcoating their bitter reality. And most of them were thankful, but as the GPS announced their distance shortening, Chan grew worried about Jisung. “Jisung?” He was staring out the window, his anger towards the kingpin simmering.“What?” His voice came out harsher than he expected, voice strained with anger- he had practically hissed at Chan. “You should stay calm. We don’t know what state they’ll be in…” Woojin nodded, prompting to add: “Or what he’s done-”

“We don’t know what he’s told them either.” Chan finished.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, sure, but I’m just saying. Stay in control.”

“I said I’m fine. I know you guys mean well, but I’m good.”

The little flag appeared on the GPS’s screen and the robotic voice announced that they had arrived at their destination it was suddenly becoming real, too real. They were in the middle of nowhere, but the house was prestigious. It was big, too big. It was a complete juxtaposition to the surrounding greenery. It looked out of place. “We’re here, I think. We are here, right?” Chan parked the car and turned to face the men, and they nodded, the man in the middle covered his face. “I want to go in alone,” Jisung announced as he opened the door, nervously looking at the large house. “Fuck no.” Minho threw open the door from his side of the car. “Someone has to stay.”

“We can just lock the car. We already took their guns.”

“Oh.”

Chan locked the car they were all crammed in, and left the trio of men inside. The door took some time to open without force. But with a little coaxing, the door finally opened. Without a word, they took their guns out of the waistband of the pants or short. They split up, a group of three going in each direction of the large house. Jisung, Chan, and Woojin made their way up the stairs- finding blood spots going up the stairs, some of it pooling in some places. Jisung’s heart was in his throat, he thought he was going to throw up. He almost stumbled into the living room, and Chan pulled him back by the collar of his shirt behind the wall.

“You’re a little brat aren’t you? A little piece of shit. You ruin everything. I will burn this house down before I let you go.” You were on your knees before him, whimpering and shaking, crying as he dragged a pocket knife across your collarbone. You were already bleeding from the back of your head, streaming down your back again. You were getting dizzy from the blood loss, your vision fading. Jisung was wide awake adrenaline spilling into his veins. It wasn’t right seeing you like this. This is what you must’ve felt when you wanted to go back to your flower shop, knowing you could be risking your life, risking everything. It was something deep and primal, almost animalistic inside of him. He could feel himself choking back tears, a lump caught in his throat.

“Jisung, you have to wait.”

“Wait for him to fucking kill them?”

“We have to wait until he’s away from ___. Otherwise, he might, panic and actually kill them.”

Jiusng watched from behind the wall, hands in fists, fingers traveling to reach for his handgun. Maybe Chan had a point, they had to be calculating and rational.

“You’re going to have to make it up to me, and you know how don’t you? Be a good girl.” He dragged the knife up your neck and to the point of your chin.

“Oh, fuck this.”

Jisung pulled out his handgun from the waistband of his sweatpants. It replayed in his head, the night you got taken away. How helpless, how useless he felt as you were dragged out of the store. You could feel a shooting pain up his leg like high voltage electricity, but he walked still, doing his best to make his way towards you. Jisung heard Chan curse under his breath and pull his gun out too, his waistband snapping as he pulled it out harshly.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Oh shit. Shit. Don’t fucking move. I swear to fuck I’ll kill them right here.” He pulled you by the hair, holding you head up by it as you toppled over, too weak to keep yourself up. Out of your spotty vision, you made out a figure as familiar as your flowers.

“Jisung...please.”

He could hear the pain in your voice, and it made him angrier. The gun pointing directly towards your captor’s head. “You’re outnumbered. You don’t actually think there’s a scenario where you win right?” Chan spoke out loudly, hands on his own gun.

“I don’t have to. I’ll take them down with me.”

“Chan, the police.” Woojin whispered as soon as he heard the faint sirens and the rest of the boys piled in. Realizing that there was no way to get out of this alive, he let the knife slip across your throat before plunging it into his stomach. There was barely anytime for anyone to react. You and the kingpin collapsed to the floor as he let go of you hair. You heard the gun clatter, Jisung holding your to torso, covering your neck as it sputtered blood.

“Oh fuck, fuck! Get a towel or something, please. Oh god, ____, c’mon stay with me. Please. Just to the hospital, you can make it until then, please.”

“You know….what flowers to put on... my grave, right, ‘sungie? It might... be selfish to say this... now but, I love you. I’m in... love with you... Han Jisung.”

The blood on his hands was warm, he was covered in a mess of it. It was all over the marble floor now, a maroon pool flooding the floor. Jisung wasn’t in control, he never had control over anything. It seemed so futile, like everything he had done in vain. Chan brought towels to cover the wound and clean up the floor, but the towels became tinted and heavier. Chan was desperately ripping fabric to try to stop the bleeding and Minho flew down the stairs to call the medics in. Woojin’s attention was on your captor, holding him back as he watched you. He was bleeding too, but not nearly at a fast of rate as you. Jeongin had your head in his lap, stroking your hair. He and Seungmin began singing you a song.

“You’re not gonna die. Oh fuck, fuck! Chan! You’re not- shut up, Jeongin! You can’t- your flowers come on, please. Just a few more minutes. I can hear the sirens- you can do it, oh fuck! There’s so much blood, Chan, what do we do? There has to be something, you can’t just- I love you so much. You’re so cold- why are you so cold? Please, it’s selfish, but just hold on. Chan, there’s so much blood- make it stop, oh god, fuck make it stop, please.”

You were the bird from the playground, plummeting towards the earth and there was nothing he could do. He tightened his fingers around yours, as cold as they were, trying to bring some heat to your body. He ignored the blood staining his shirt, and the medics pulled him away from you, prying his fingers off. The police came in and pulled your ex away, even as he screamed and thrashed, trying to make his way towards you. Jisung followed you down.

“Please, please, help- you have to, they’re so good- please, promise?”

Pinky promise? It echoed in his head.

They wouldn’t, they couldn’t.

a/n: haha gotcha there’s one chapter left (im sorry please dont be mad)

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids han #skz imagines #skz fic #skz han jisung #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids han jisung #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung imagine #han jisung imagines

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becarefuldontdienewt · 6 years

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Every Single Thing I do

I met you by the pool, so free and careless That evening didn’t go as we had planned But I knew I had to bring you out to see me I was a selfish boy in love with half a heart in his hand

When Minho woke up, the first thing he saw was green. The sheets draped over his unclothed body were green, unfamiliar, and had an unwelcome roughness. His body woke up after his eyes, alerting him with a splitting pain in his skull and a bout of nausea. “Fuck,” was all he could say. “Well that’s a word for it,” came a female voice in reply. With effort, he propped himself up on his arm to investigate its source. His head continued screaming. “-what? Who?” “I’m Beth.” “Minho,” he grunted. She nodded back, her brown curls bouncing along with the movements, though quickly seemed to think better of it. Minho would bet that a similar headache ricocheted through her skull. She pushed herself out of the bed, gathering her discarded clothing slowly, wobbly. She ducked into what Minho presumed was the bathroom, but reemerged a minute later, half dressed with a cup of water in her hand. “Here’s some Advil,” she said, laying it on the table next to Minho along with the cup. “I’m going to shower, you have a ride out of here?” “Uh,” he replied, his mouth working faster than his brain. “Yeah.” And then she left. He took the pills, downing the rest of the water as well. Though he briefly considered lying back down for a few minutes, he didn’t want to be here when she came out. Despite his body’s protests, he struggled to stand and fish his phone out of his jeans. It was still alive, miraculously, and he dialed Thomas’s number. His friend sighed on the other end of the line almost as soon as he answered. “Where are you, dumbass? I’ll come get you.”

Not two weeks later, boredom struck Minho again and, despite his friend’s protests, they ended up at the same dodgy bar. It was a constant cycle of dragging Thomas out for ‘just a drink or two,’ getting trashed, hooking up, and getting his ass hauled home the next morning. He really didn’t deserve Thomas. “You’re coming home with me,” the brunette said after their third round of beers came. Minho chuckled, “Sorry, man, I don’t see you that way.” “Minho,” his friend warned. “I mean it, one of these days I’ll stop saving your dumb ass.” He held his hands up in defeat, “fine, fine.” His promise did not stop him from hitting on the next girl that walked in the bar. Thomas shot him an annoyed look, but Minho waved him off. There wasn’t any harm in flirting. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, sauntering up to her and trying hard to enunciate properly. “Can I buy you a drink? She gave him a pitiful look, then held up her left hand. “I’m taken. “I was too, as soon as you came through that door,” he continued, undeterred. She scoffed and turned away from him. Thomas, on the other hand, was cracking up on the other side of the bar. “Now I definitely don’t regret coming out with you,” he wheezed between laughs as a dejected Minho plopped down next to him. Minho channeled all of his disappointment into a withering glare. “Oh lighten up,” Thomas said, calming down. “You could do with being shot down more often.” “I’ll just have a gin and tonic,” came a smooth voice from beside the two of them. Minho spun around, maybe a little too fast with the alcohol already in his system, and came face to face with a mop of sandy blonde hair and a crooked smile. “Uh, hi.” The blonde turned to him, a grin tugging on his lips. Behind him, Minho heard Thomas mutter something about getting a front row seat to seeing Minho get shot down twice in one night. Minho ignored him. “I’m Newt,” the other man said, amused. “I’m, uh, M-minho,” he spluttered, mentally smacking himself. And then everything changed. Thomas had always said that time would break Minho out of his unhealthy habits, but he was wrong. It wasn’t time, no, it was finding the right person.

We would dance all night not caring who was watching Live life like there was nothing we could lose But I was wrong and there is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do To relive every moment spent with you

“Miinho,” Newt whined, hands roaming over his boyfriend’s back. Up and down, up and down, slipping just under his shirt. Minho’s lips were everywhere, Newt’s neck, his lips, his face. His hands, too, explored the familiar body beneath him, mirroring Newt’s constant motions. He gasped as the blonde captured his bottom lip between his teeth. “You have-” he groaned, “no idea what you do- ah- to me.” Newt rocked his clothed hips into Minho’s, smirking around the other man’s lips, “I know exactly what I do to you.” He hooked his good leg around the Asian’s and flipped them over in a swift movement. His wandering hands pushed the other man’s shirt up, up, over his head. Minho’s lips were back on his neck, sucking marks that wouldn’t leave for days. He wanted more, he always wanted more with Newt. He was intoxicating, somehow filling Minho with life while also taking away his breath. “Minho, I-” and then a persistent ringing filled their ears. They both shot up, searching for the sound while protecting their ears. It only took Newt a few moments to figure it out, “Minho, the fire alarm! Go!” They scrambled out of the bed towards the kitchen, shirts forgotten. “Oh, shit, the cookies!” Newt shouted as he arrived at the scene, shutting off the oven. His boyfriend rushed to the smoke detector, trying in vain to shut it off. “How do I turn it off?!?” Newt fought to put on an oven mitt. “I don’t know! Look for a reset button!” “There isn’t one! I’m just going to hit it really hard! “With what??” Victorious in his battle the oven mitt, Newt rushed to pull the burning cookies out of the oven. He tossed the entire tray in the sink, then pulled open a drawer at random. He jumped for the rolling pin, the only thing that looked even remotely useful, when his eye caught a little black box. Rolling pin forgotten, his curiosity pushed him towards the box, picking it up and opening it carefully. “Minho?” His boyfriend glanced at him briefly, before returning to hack at the alarm with his shoe. “Babe, what is this?” Newt didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed off the lid and sucked in a breath. “Min, oh my god.” His boyfriend ignored him, still locked in battle against the fire alarm. “Newt, could you please help?” “Is this an engagement ring?” Suddenly the world stopped. The noise of the fire alarm and the smell of burnt cookies evaporated and all Minho could see was Newt, wide-eyed and curious. “Yes,” he breathed out. “Okay.” Minho cocked an eyebrow, “okay what?” “Let’s get married.” With that, all the noise of their chaotic life came screaming back at Minho but he didn’t care. Their entire apartment could be burning down around them. None of it mattered. He had Newt.

As time went by I was driven by deception But you’ve always stood beside me and you prayed That I’d see the pain I caused but I chose to look right through I let you down and watched you slip away

Minho staggered through the door to their apartment. The low hum of a car engine signaled that Thomas was pulling away. As quietly as possible, he pulled the door shut behind him and made his way over to the kitchen. It was late, too late, and he prayed Newt was already asleep. He wasn’t. A mop of blonde hair greeted him at the kitchen table, bent over a thick book. Newt didn’t have to look up for Minho to know there were dark rings under his eyes. They’d danced their way through this routine countless times. “Hey,” Minho said softly, hoping to avoid an argument. “You shouldn’t have stayed up for me.” “I shouldn’t have?” Newt bit back, his tone cold. Minho winced. “If we’re going to play this game, you shouldn’t have gone out.” “You know I’m trying to make friends at my new job. Don’t fault me for that.” “Bullshit, Minho. You’ve been saying that for months. It’s not new anymore.” “So what, I like to go out for a drink-” Newt snorted, his beautiful features marred by anger. “One drink? Thomas had to go pick you up.” “A few drinks, what’s the difference. Do you not trust me?” “I don’t,” the blonde replied matter-of-factly. “A couple weeks ago I sent Thomas-” “You sent Thomas? What, am I five?” Newt ignored him. “He saw you dancing up on some girl.” Minho’s heart sunk but he pressed on, unwilling to let the matter rest now that it was brought up. “Nothing happened, why can’t you just trust me. I just want to have fun.” Newt didn’t bother masking the pain that flitted across his features. “Fun,” he said solemnly. So quiet Minho would have missed it had he not seen Newt’s thin lips move. “I used to be your idea of fun.” Minho sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The gel he’d put in earlier was loosening and a few pieces fell down around his eyes. “Babe, you still-” “Am I though?” The blonde shot back, not missing a beat. “When’s the last time we actually spent time together, aside from sleeping and eating. You look for every excuse to get out of the apartment.” “That’s not true,” Minho protested weakly, though he racked his brain to think of their last true date, one not involving pajamas or takeout, and came up emptyhanded. His fiancé pressed his lips together, as if to stop himself from a scathing retort, and simply shook his head. “You know I love you, Newt.” And then, in a whisper, “I’m starting to wonder if that’s enough.”

I’d never lost it all till I lose you But I was much too reckless and I broke your heart in two A million bits of hope, now you’ll never know the truth You’re part of every single thing I do

Three years later, Minho found himself sat in the corner of an unfamiliar coffee shop, some hipster place Thomas had chosen that made art out of the coffee foam and had an entire wall of tea leaves to choose from. Typical Thomas. His friend was weaving his way through the narrow aisles back to their seat. “I can’t believe two regular coffees cost nearly ten dollars.” Thomas complained as he sat down, pushing one of the mugs towards Minho. Minho hummed absently, “you picked the place.” His friend shrugged, “I don’t come here often.” Thomas raised his cup to his lips, blowing slightly then wincing as the hot liquid splashed onto his hand. Minho eyed the silver band that adorned his best friend’s ring finger. The wedding had taken place two years ago and Minho, as the best man, had tried his hardest to force a smile and celebrate love when he’d been sleeping alone for weeks. A scowl crossed his face but he was quick to rearrange his features before Thomas noticed. “How’s Theresa?” He asked flippantly, not sure he wanted an update on Thomas’ perfect life. If his friend noticed the attitude, he didn’t comment. “She’s been good. Actually, uh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Minho smirked, “Still thinking about leaving her and running off into the sunset with me? Sorry, mate, I don’t think you’re my type.” “Shove off, Minho,” with an eye roll. “No, actually, she’s pregnant.” “Who’s the father?” Minho quipped back, not missing a beat. “Because I swear it’s not me. It only happened like once, maybe twice.” “You’re an asshole, you know that?” “So I’ve been told.” Still, the news darkened Minho’s mood considerably. He barely saw his oldest friend as it was; this meeting was the first in nearly a month and felt tense and forced. With both working full time and Thomas starting a family, well, there would just be no more room in his life for Minho. That’s how it always seemed to be; Minho watched his friends get married and disappear when all he had to show for was a string of unsuccessful relationships. “Anyway, we got the news yesterday. We’d been trying for months, we thought something might be wrong.” Minho forced a smile and offered a weak congratulations. His bitter mood might’ve made way for true excitement had it not been for the soft ding of the door accompanied by two figures eager to escape the crisp autumn chill. Minho’s breath hitched. Though the first man was bundled up in what looked like a thick coat and two scarves, jesus it was only November, the sandy blonde hair and serious eyes were unmistakable. Newt. Beside him stood another man, shorter but approximately the same age, with a smile tugging on his cheeks and a softness etched into his expression. Minho watched as the other man took Newt’s hand in his own and gave it a firm squeeze. Something akin to jealousy rumbled deep inside Minho but he knew it was misplaced. Newt wasn’t his and hadn’t been for years. Still, his heart panged for what once was. Evidently Minho had been staring for a while, as his usually oblivious friend followed his gaze. “Shit. I’m sorry, Minho. We can leave.” The Asian shrugged. He had to be okay with it. Had to move on. “It’s fine.” A lie. Newt and his new man headed towards Minho, no, he corrected, towards the counter. As before, Minho was just a stop along the way, another obstacle before Newt reached the final destination. Minho felt his heart beating, trying to escape his chest like he wished he could escape the situation. He wasn’t sure if he should jump up and greet his ex-fiancé casually or shrink into nonexistence. But before his anxiety ridden mind could decide, Newt was upon them. He offered Minho a slight, forced smile and a nod before walking out of Minho’s life forever.

Now you’re gone ‘cause I forgot about loving you

a/n: Hi guys, if anyone’ s still around in the Minewt fandom. Just a little something I wrote a bit ago that I knew I would never post if I didn’t now! I’m almost done with something I’m REALLY excited about and have been working on for quite some time! Have a good one (:

#minewt #the maze runner #minho #newt

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