-DAY 7: Stay up late talking. Really catch up and check in with each other-
As much as Minho liked talking with Newt, he couldn't help but find this one absolutely ridiculous...at first.
-X-X-X-
"Newt, this is stupid."
"No, it's not. Come on, Minho..."
"Yes, it is and I'm not doing it."
"You are. Sit down."
"No."
"Min."
"UGH."
Reluctant and grudgingly, Minho tossed himself down onto the bed next to Newt. Immediately, he sat back against the pillows and crossed his arms like a scolded child. He really did find this whole thing stupid.
It was late at night. Belle was already asleep in her room down the hall and the view from between the window curtains was dark with night. But there were lamps on in the Newton's bedroom and soft, warm light on the walls. Minho normally loved nights like this: autumn nights that were chilly enough to make him hold Newt in the dark for warmth and whisper silly, lovestruck things to him so that he'd blush. Minho was such a horrid romantic.
However, on THAT particular night, those plans were cancelled. All because Newt had discovered a ghastly, addicting app to torture Minho with: Pinterest.
"Okay, so this is what it says to do..." Newt was reading off his iPhone, scrolling down with his thumb. The screen was reflected in his ashy-blue eyes.
Minho peered over Newt's shoulder at the screen contemptuously. "You do realize that you're letting an APP define what our relationship should be like, right?" he asked drily.
"No, I'm not," Newt argued. "I just wanted to try something, that's all."
"Of course."
"Minho, c'mon, just try it."
"What does it even say?"
Newt squinted at the words glowing from his phone. "It says to stay up late talking and catch up with each other," he read.
"Catch up?" Minho echoed dubiously. "We're married. We live together. What could we POSSIBLY have to catch up about?"
"I dunno. It's not like you see me every second of the day, you know. You're always at work, remember?" Newt gave Minho a withering look.
Minho bumped their shoulders together. "Not my fault."
"Listen, don't you want to try it?" Newt asked. He shrugged with one shoulder. "See if it works?"
Minho arched a brow. "Works?"
"You know, makes us closer."
Minho tugged at Newt's T-shirt sleeve; it was an oversized, black shirt that belonged to Minho and that Newt wore as pajamas with boxers. "I'm already close to you."
"Well, yeah, but still." Newt rested his head on Minho's shoulder and looked up at him. "I just...wanna talk to you, I guess."
Dammit, he was giving Minho that imploring-puppy look and God, he was just too shucking adorable. Minho sighed, long and conceding. "All riiiiiiight," he groaned dramatically, and Newt smiled. "I'll do it. But I won't like it."
"Thank you," Newt chirped, nosing at Minho's shoulder affectionately.
Minho shifted to a more comfortable position, bare shoulder against Newt's (Minho always slept shirtless; tonight, he just wore thin, blue pj bottoms). "Okay, then. What do you wanna talk about?"
Newt lifted his head from Minho's shoulder. "Oh. Um. What do YOU wanna talk about?" he asked instead.
"This is stupid," Minho deadpanned.
"No, you're just bad at sharing your feelings."
"Ugh. Can't we just make out instead?" Minho leaned over and kissed the curve of Newt's ear.
"Quit it!" Newt giggled, pulling his shoulder up to his ear to block Minho's next kiss. "Just say something! It's not that hard."
Huffing, Minho dropped his head back against the pillow he was leaning on. "Fine. I'll try." He glanced sideways at Newt for a long moment. Newt gazed back expectantly, eyebrows raised. This was going to suck so bad. "...hi."
An amused smile tugged up Newt's mouth. "Hi."
"What's..." Minho racked his brain for a good conversation-starter. "...your favorite...color?"
"Seriously?" Newt asked.
"Shut up. I can't think of anything else."
Newt shook his head pityingly. "Blue. Yours?"
Minho looked at Newt's sapphire eyes. "Blue."
"You can't steal my favorite color!" Newt accused, laughing.
"It was always my favorite color!" Minho argued. "You probably stole it from ME!"
"Oh really? Then why is it your favorite?"
"It's embarrassing."
"What do you mean?"
"I...well..." Minho rubbed the back of his neck. "It's the color of your eyes."
Newt's eyebrows flicked up in surprise. "Really? That's your reason?"
"Don't rub it in," Minho muttered.
Newt leaned up and placed a kiss on Minho's cheek. "You're adorable, Min," he said fondly.
Minho grunted noncommittally in reply, but his stomach tingled at Newt's kiss. Glancing at Newt again, he tried to actually come up with something meaningful to talk about. Shouldn't he be able to do this? Surely it couldn't be this hard for him to talk with someone he cared about; and of course he cared about Newt. Newt was his husband, and his best friend, and Minho loved him so much, it made him breathless. So he HAD to be able to say one meaningful thing right now. Just one thing.
"Are you still doing okay when I'm not here? I mean, with the Flare?"
Newt stared at him. Minho hurried on. "I'm not exactly here all the time," he said. "I wondered if you were still having trouble with it."
"Sometimes," Newt admitted, gazing down at his feet for a long moment. He never liked talking about his illness too much; the symptoms were treatable with medication, so he didn't notice it unless he had a particularly bad day. "I have good days and bad days."
"What's a bad day like?" Minho asked carefully.
Newt played with the sheets at his waist. "It's not terrible. I get dizzy and sometimes I see things. But it never lasts very long."
Narrowing his eyes, Minho tried to decide if he believed Newt or if Newt was just trying to reassure him. "So I guess you still can't drive very much then," he remarked.
"I can drive more than I could before," Newt replied. "But no, not very much." He offered an assuring smile. "I don't mind as much, now that I work from home with Sonya's help."
Minho had to return his smile, though sadder. "Okay then." He hated that a disease had done this to his husband. He wished there was something more he could do.
"What about you?" Newt asked suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"How's work for you? Are you still thinking about finding a new job?"
It was just like Newt to find the one sensitive topic to bring up. He knew Minho way too well. "I'm not sure," Minho replied, and absently rubbed one arm. "Sometimes I think I will and other times, I think I'll need to find somewhere new."
Newt looked confused; he knew how much Minho enjoyed his job. "Why?"
"We're not exactly rich," Minho chuckled ruefully. "Now we have Belle, and you can't work as often, not that I'm blaming you," he added quickly, and Newt leaned into his shoulder understandingly. "I really should look for something closer to Glade City, where there are more jobs to choose from."
"But you love teaching guitar," Newt protested gently.
Minho couldn't help it. He smiled widely. "I know. But it's not...enough, for us."
"If it's enough for you, it's enough for me," Newt declared. "And Belle already wants you to teach her more songs and music. You can't give it up."
"Maybe."
"Why're you so sure it won't work out?"
"Because I'm not making enough just teaching guitar," Minho answered. Slipping a hand under Newt's, he intertwined their fingers. "And I want to take care of you and Belle, more than I'm doing now."
Newt dropped his head onto Minho's shoulder again, looking at their joined hands. "Then find a side job or something," he suggested. "Don't give up something you love." Turning his face into Minho's neck, he placed a kiss there. "Or you'll regret it."
Minho nosed Newt's hair and breathed in that honey-sweet scent he loved. "Okay," he relented.
They sat quietly for several minutes. The night gathered steadily outside and Coal's pawsteps came softly from down in the hall. Minho thought he could hear Belle's quiet breaths as she slept. He stroked his thumb over Newt's knuckles and considered suggesting they go to sleep, when Newt suddenly gave a little laugh. "What's so funny?" Minho asked.
And Newt pointed to his iPhone on the bedside table. "You said it wouldn't work," he accused, eyes twinkling in amusement. "But it did."
Minho looked first at the phone, then at Newt. "...you shank."
"Love you too," Newt chirped triumphantly. Stretching up, he nipped at Minho's ear to make him squeak indignantly.
Minho rubbed at his ear and shot Newt a dark smirk. "You're in for it now, Newton," he warned wickedly.
"Bring it on, Park," Newt challenged.
His voice faltered when Minho twisted in bed and moved to straddle Newt's hips. Trapping Newt back against the headboard, Minho lazily carded a hand through that gorgeous blonde hair. "I'm not a Park anymore," he reminded Newt.
"What are you then?" Newt asked, smiling because he could guess the answer. His hands rested on Minho's sides.
Minho rubbed their noses together. "Yours."
