| Through The Glass | MINCHAN/BANGINHO

|EPILOGUE|

Chan successfully dodged the glass again on his way back to the bathroom, preparing himself for Minho to not be there and for him to wake up on the hardwood floor, alone, surrounded by nothing but broken mirrors. But no. Minho was sitting on the sink counter, swaying his legs like a little kid and playing with the fabric of the robes draped over him. Chan thought they were interesting, but he knew they were going to have to go shop for clothes, because Minho couldn't walk around in those. "Here's your clothes." Chan gently sat them in Minho's lap, bending down to turn the knobs of the shower and waiting for the water to heat up. "Turn them clockwise to adjust the temperature. It can be pretty finicky. The left one is cold and the right one is hot."

When Chan got done explaining, he went to leave and give Minho his privacy, but Minho caught Chan's thighs with his calves and tugged him forward. Chan laughed a bit and stepped in between Minho's thighs like he had done before and let Minho bury his face into the elder's neck and embrace him tightly. They stayed like that for a while, Chan running his palms along the small of Minho's back and peppering gentle kisses against the side of his head. "Alright, seriously. If I hold you any longer, I'll need a shower too," Chan joked and pried himself away from Minho, who pouted like a small child.

As soon as the bathroom door shut, the two felt calm. Minho stripped himself of his clothes and got in the shower without another thought, his muscles relaxing under the warmth. Chan, however, had a much more tedious job. He grabbed the broom and slipped on some house shoes before sweeping up the glass in the apartment, making sure he got all of it in a general area before he began to pick up the broken frames and take them outside to the trash chute. Outside, his neighbor was smoking a cigarette, and she locked eyes with him and shot him a look of concern. "You okay? You were screaming and things were smashing. I almost called the cops...," she trailed off cautiously, and Chan chuckled as he shoved the broken pieces down the hole.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. It shouldn't be a reoccurring thing anymore," Chan replied shortly before walking back into his apartment with a smile. He never thought he'd actually say those words with the context behind it, but it made him feel good about himself. Chan knew he wasn't going to get better right off that bat, but there was hope that maybe, one day, he could be happy and content with his life. And until then... he had Minho on his long climb up. Chan actually had Minho... it still hadn't quite registered in his head.

Faintly, Minho's muffled singing was heard over the water in the shower and the screeching sound of glass scratching against the floors, and Chan giggled to himself softly. Minho's voice sounded like honey, and Chan found himself leaning his cheek against the broom and letting his eyes droop closed for a moment just to listen to his soft vocals. Chan didn't recognize the song, but he didn't have to for him to know that Minho made it sound absolutely gorgeous and Chan couldn't wait to listen to it more.

Eventually, the water stopped, and Chan had cleaned up for the most part by the time Minho was out of the bathroom, letting the steam from the shower filter out into the apartment. Chan glanced up from cleaning the counters to see Minho standing in his clothes with wet hair and clean skin, and his heart jumped. "Hey, darling. Feel better?" Chan inquired casually, trying his best to keep his cool. Minho hummed gently and looked around in interest. The apartment, despite Chan tidying up for almost an hour, was still a mess and so ungodly cluttered. But Minho didn't mind. He saw a lot of potential for the place.

While Minho seemed hopeful, all of the complications to having Minho here began to set in. He wasn't in the system and this meant that Minho couldn't get a job, couldn't go to the hospital, and definitely couldn't pay his own bills. The stress of the situation was starting to get to Chan, and Minho could sense it before it got too bad. Arms twined around Chan's waist as a head was buried into his shoulder, Chan relaxing underneath the brush of lips on his exposed shoulder. "You're thinking too much," Minho laughed, loosening his grip a bit so Chan could turn around in his arms. Chan grazed his thumbs along the younger's jawline.