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staylovehearts · 4 years

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A Tree in a Forest

Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count ~ 3.7 k

Summary: Sometimes you can’t see the tree from the woods.

Tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, slight angst, but also really cheesy, weird tree metaphors but I promise it’s romantic, or at least I hope it is

"Let go of me, the people are starting to look."

With a pout, you let go of Minho's elbow that you have been holding onto. Actually, you had meant to hook arms, walk arm in arm like an old couple. Or close friends who are goofing around together. But Minho keeps his arm pressed tightly to his side and you have done your best to wriggle at least three fingers in between. But now he's looking at you with this kind of irritated glance. He's even stopped walking. The only thing that's missing is for him to place his other hand on his hip and use his height to tower over you to make you feel like you are a kid being scolded.

"Since when do you care about people looking at you? You love attention. Besides, you always get super clingy with your friends, why do you never let me be close to you?" You cross your arms in front of your chest while speaking. Half because you are not sure what to do with your hand now that you had to remove your fingers from Minho's elbow. You really don't understand why he is always making such a fuss about it. There is nothing wrong with friends holding hands or hooking arms or any of that. Everyone is doing it. And Minho and you have been friends for quite a while now. Actually, you basically grew up together. He lives down the street, when you were younger you used to sit in the sandbox of the playground around the corner, defending the castles you built together from all the other kids trying to get a chance of playing there as well until your parents pulled you out and scolded you. But the next day you'd do it again. You two have been in cahoots for all of your youth. Exploring the forests and fields around town, building secret hideouts in the woods and coming home with scrapped knees. You went to school together. Have even been in the same classes for most of it. Minho and you have always been close. And he used to not mind being touchy-feely with you. But somehow things have changed sometime during high school. Before that, you always used to walk to and from school together. Him waiting up in the morning, standing on your porch and greeting your mother before joking about how you are always making him late. He stopped. Had to go earlier because of clubs and stuff. He also stopped walking home with you. Meeting with friends or staying later for dance practice. It's fine. You do have other friends as well. It's just how things go. But still... something about the distance he's been putting up makes you upset. And the harder he tries to slip away, the more you want to get close to him again.

"It's different when they do it. They are not annoying and clingy like you. Besides, you can't even compare that. With you it's a whole different story", Minho finally answers your question. It feels like you have been staring each other down in the middle of this crowded shopping mall for at least half a minute.

"Different how?", you ask. "How am I different?"

Minho rolls his eyes at you, as if you are stupid for even asking such a question, but he's also not really providing you with an answer. In fact, he seems to be stalling for time. The stance of his body shifts. The angry posture had given him a confident, overpowering look, but now he's unsure. You can read him pretty well most of the time, so it's easy for you to tell that he'd rather not start arguing with you right now.

"You're just... you", he finally mutters. It's so vague that it could mean anything and nothing.

"What's that even supposed to mean?", you demand, but Minho is running away from the question. Literally. He has started walking again before you could even get into complaining properly. You try your best to catch up with him again, for a moment you consider reaching for his arm again. Just to tease him. But then you stop yourself halfway there and just settle for walking next to him.

"Well, either way, let's go eat something. I'm starving"

"Hey darling, you back already? I thought you were out with Minho?", your mother greets when you walk inside. She's standing in the kitchen, messing around in maybe three different pots and pans at the same time. The air is warm and filled with the smell of different spices and other ingredients.

"He had... a thing later. I think. He didn't really give me the specifics, just told me that he had to leave early. So I'm home already."

Your mother turns around to look at you over her shoulder, not even putting down her spatula or stepping away from the stove. But she gives you this kind of concerned mother look.

"That's odd", she just says, before completely turning back around to stir some vegetables in a pan. Something about the way she says it gives you a feeling that she is implying more than she is saying. But you're mother has always been like that. Giving you that know it all mothery attitude and yet refusing to really talk wisdom until you finally give in and come to her to ask what she means by that. But you're not really in the mood for talking right now.

"Do you want me to set the table?", you ask instead. Without even turning around your mother replies: "Yes, please. You're lucky I made a little extra. I wanted to leave it on the stovetop so you could eat it later when you get here. But now that you're here already you might as well eat with the family."

"Yeah, I'll get right to it."

And that's that. But you have a feeling this conversation is only postponed.

to Dumbass Catboy: sooooo what do you wanna do for movie night this weekend? i'll take care of snax if you bring the dvd, or do you wanna do netflix?? [sent: 17:35; seen 5 minutes ago]

You stare at your phone in anticipation. Movie night is a staple for you and Minho. When you were younger you used to do when every weekend. But as school progressed and homework started piling up you started reducing the frequency. Every second week and then once a month. But it's a date circled in your calender. Marked with a bright red pen. And you make sure to send him reminders about it at least a week in advance. Minho and you have never skipped a movie night. Not even that one time you came down with a really bad stomach bug. You did switch to watching the movie together over a skype conversation though. Because your mother told you not to leave the house. Not that you had felt like that. You still clearly remember how you paused the movie in the middle of a scene, stood up straight and declared "I'm going to puke my guts out" before rushing out of your room and into the bathroom. You remember Minho laughing and teasing and calling your gross when you stumbled back into your room, face pale but cheeks glowing red, hair messy and sweaty bangs sticking to your forehead. But you continued watching the movie once you had settled yourself back into bed. Movie night has never been skipped.

[Dumbass Catboy is typing]

The three dots move, stop, disappear, show up again. Then, finally, after what seems like hours of waiting – well, just about one hour actually – there is finally an answer. But you sure don't like what you are seeing.

Dumbass Catboy: sry, can't make it, got other plans [sent: 18:27]

He's ditching your movie night? Not even telling you what for? No excuse. Just other plans? What other plans could be more important than watching movies with your bestie? It's a tradition. A ritual. You've been doing movie nights for years. And he's just ditching you? Not even an excuse. You throw your phone across the room, not even bothering with a reply. This is stupid. Outrageous. This is... actually so hurtful.

What happened?

Do people just drift apart like that? Is that just how it goes? Friends come and go and life goes on. But if that's just how it goes then why does it hurt so much? Is it normal that it stings so much, that it makes your chest feel so tight that you almost can't breathe anymore? Hands shaking, all of you shaking, shivering, struggling for air, choking out sobs, tears stinging in your eyes?

Why does it hurt so much?

Just then you hear a gentle knock on your door. You try to quickly clean the tears that have by now welled over and dripped from your chin onto the mattress away with your sleeve. Won't fix the puffy eyes, but the light is dimmed, so maybe it's alright.

"Come in", you croak. Voice hoarse and strangled. Damn. The door opens slowly and your mother comes inside, carrying a basket of freshly washed and folded laundry that she puts down. Usually, she'd leave right after that, but this time she stops in the doorframe to look at you. You try your hardest to avoid her gaze.

"Are you alright?", she asks and that's really all it takes for you to break down completely.

"I think Minho hates me now", you choke out between strangled sobs.

"Oh, darling", your mother hurries over to sit down next to you without hesitation. Gently she places a hand on your shoulder and you curl yourself into her side like you used to do as a child, hiding from strangers at family gatherings and the such. She gently pets your hair while she waits for your sobbing and shaking to calm down again before she begins her interrogation.

"Did you two have a fight?", she finally asks, after you have wiped your face with your sleeves a couple of times and sat up straight again. You shake your head because you still don't trust your voice to be stable, But your mother waits patiently for you to explain more. So you finally give in.

"He cancelled movie night. Didn't even give me a reason. He just said that he has other plans. And he's been so weird and distant lately. Like he doesn't want to spend time anymore and when we're out together he always makes me walk like an arm's length away from him. And when I ask him about it he's so weird. He won't even explain himself. I just don't understand why he's being like this now? I thought we were friends. But it's all changing now and I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose him. I l-", you interrupt yourself there, but the knowing glance your mother is giving you is telling you that she was just waiting for that emotional outburst. I love him so much is what you meant to say. You didn't even realise you meant it until now.

"You know, boys can be really stupid sometimes. I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Maybe he just needs space to figure something out. I know you two have always been close, but things change when you get older. That's just how it is. You can't stay in your little sandcastle forever."

"But what if I don't want things to change?"

"Oh, darling, no one wants for things to change. But the world just keeps turning, and either you learn to deal with change or you get left behind. It's cruel, but life can be like that sometimes."

"Hey, sorry about last weekend, I was... busy."

You recognise the voice from behind without turning to look. You don't. You allow him to catch up to you but you don't slow down.

"It's okay", you say. Snappy. Short words. Fired like bullets out of your mouth. You don't turn, but you notice him flinch a little out of the corner of your eye. Minho's lips have always formed into a sort of natural pout, but it becomes even more prominent when he is actually upset about something. Such full lips. So soft, so plush.

"Maybe we could make up for it?", he offers. He's walking fast to keep up with you. Maybe you did add a little more speed to your step. You're basically powerwalking down the street. What is he even doing here? Did he have to be out just now when you wanted to go to the store?

"Maybe", you say. And with that, you're basically done with the conversation. But Minho doesn't seem to be willing to let you go so easily.

"Are you also going to the store? Want me to help you carry that?" He points to the bag around your wrist. Your mother gave it to you even though you insisted you'd be able to carry the few things she wanted without any help.

"It's empty. I think I can handle that myself", you explain. Still not even bothering to look at your friend. Can you even call him that right now? Friend feels like such a loaded word. Maybe he stopped being your friend when he started moving into crush territory. You wonder what territory you are in from his perspective right now? Maybe you're nothing. And being nothing only really hurts when you used to be something.

"Don't you wanna try grabbing me today?", he asks, still not able or willing to read the mood.

"Thought you didn't want me to."

"Yeah, but since when has me telling you what to do ever stopped you from getting your will either way, remember when we-"

"Hey, I'm sorry, but I got this kinda important errand to run", you cut him off in the middle of a sentence. You're not in the mood for childhood memories and sharing stories that you have told each other a dozen times already.

"Sure, maybe we can talk..."

You're out of reach before he can get that later out.

Dumbass Catboy: hey [sent: 22:34]

Dumbass Catboy: i was wondering if we could talk [sent: 22:35]

Dumbass Catboy: look, I know I kinda fucked up and I'm really sorry [sent: 22:36]

Dumbass Catboy: please, I know you are getting these, can you just talk to me please? [sent: 22:47]

You look at your phone, not quite sure what to do. You thought getting some distance yourself would make it easier to deal with your newly realised feelings. But it seems that now, that you have slipped away to finally grant Minho the space he has been demanding he doesn't want it anymore. Suddenly he wants to be close. Texting you, asking to hang out, showing up out of nowhere when you are walking down the street to come up and talk to you. Yesterday he tried to wrap an arm around your shoulder and you just bolted. It hurts. Wanting but not being wanted. Then trying to get the distance. Suddenly being wanted again. But if you cave in now, will he turn cold again?

to Dumbass Catboy: talk then [sent: 22:50; seen just now]

Okay, maybe you're being a little bit unreasonable. A little bit bitchy. But this is basically your first real heartbreak. He's your first real love. It makes sense to be upset, right?

Dumbass Catboi: I thought we could maybe talk in person? [sent: 22:52]

Dumbass Catboi: meet me at our secret place in ten? If that's alright [sent: 22:53]

You glance at the clock on your nightstand. As if the glowing red numbers would give you another time than that displayed on the phone in your hand. It's almost 11 pm.

You grab a coat and head out.

Minho is standing leaned against the trunk of an old oak, the light of his phone making his phone glow a ghastly pale white in the dark of the forest. He raises his head when he hears you step on a twig that snaps under your boots. The light draws weird shadows on his face and for maybe the first time in ages you are unable to tell what he is thinking. His face seems contorted by the light hitting it and you can't read him at all.

You stop roughly an arm's length away from him and wait for him to greet you. Or start explaining why he called you out here in the middle of the night. For him to say anything.

"You know isn't it weird that we are able to find this place so easily even though it's just some random spot in a forest that we made out to be our place ages ago? Like, there is nothing actually special about this tree, we just made it out to be special", Minho finally says after a moment of silence. It's not really what you expected. Well, not that you really expected anything out of this conversation. But you sure didn't think he would go on a rant about trees. But it suits him, talking some weird nonsense instead of getting to the point.

"So you called me out here in the middle of the night to talk about trees?"

"Yes, but also not really", Minho answers. "See, what I'm trying to get at is that you are like that tree. When you look around in a forest there are so many trees everywhere, you could hardly make out a single one. And they all kind of look the same. But once you stop and pick a single tree to be that special tree to you, it begins to stick out. And you start noticing all the weird little details. Like how the moss grows in weird shapes on it and how it leans a little bit to the side. And suddenly that one tree is just not some random tree in a forest. And you don't really notice it at first. It seems to be just that tree that you have picked out as a meeting spot. But when you stop to think about it, you realise that that tree has always been there. This tree saw us grow up. We climbed it when we were kids, we had picnics here and we talked for hours every night in summer. Even though it just looks like one of many trees, this tree is special to me. You are special to me."

Minho's little rant leaves you lost for words and you need a moment to comprehend that between all the talk about trees he just made something like a confession. But still, it's too unclear. To vague to actually tell what he is trying to say. He has put his phone away before he started talking. Now the weird shadows are replaced with pale moonlight painting his features soft, Making his sharp and angular jaw look almost smooth, yet the skin is shining like polished marble. And his lips, oh god his lips, have they always been this tempting?

"That's a really weird metaphor", you finally manage to whisper. There is no reason to lower your voice, but you can't get yourself to speak up. You feel like you are trapped in a giant bubble and once you move to fast or speak too loud it'll burst and this whole little moment of perfect honesty will be gone.

"I guess it is. But you know that saying? Not seeing the wood from the trees or something like that. I think this is like the opposite way around. I haven't been able to see that one tree that is special to me because of all the other ones around it. You know, hide a tree, use a forest. Is that a thing that people say? Ugh, sorry, I'm rambling." Minho reaches out. Hand on your shoulder. Pulls you closer. And arm's length is still just enough distance to reach out and touch someone if you want to. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. I've liked you for a long time. And I've been scared of these feelings. So I thought if I just push you away I'd be able to move on. But then, when I really felt like I lost you, I couldn't take it. So I decided that it's better to lose you with at least trying to tell you how I feel than letting you go and never telling you. And now here I am. I like you. I really do. And I want to be with you. And I'm sorry that I have been such an idiot about it."

"You really have been an idiot", you mumble. You're standing closer to him now. Toes almost touching, his hand on your shoulder, yours uselessly hanging down next to your body. You reach out, wrap them around his neck, close the remaining bit of distance. Inhale. Everything about his body is so familiar. And yet it isn't. He smells the same, feels the same. But the bit of height difference hits different now. The way his heart is beating rapidly in his chest. This is new. These feelings are new and yet they are old. This tree is special and still, it is one of many. One that you picked. One that you made special. Because you saw it and you didn't let it go. Just like that little boy down the street who you first met when he was trying to pet a stray cat and you laughed when he started crying after it scratched him. But when he turned to look at you with tears in his big brown eyes, you rushed over to comfort him. And you never let him go again. Because he's special. To you he's special.

"I like you too", you finally return the confession. It feels like it took you both forever to get here. Then again, there is still so much time left. So many days to spend together, so many movie nights to be had. So much to do, it feels like no amount of time will ever be enough. Then again, maybe this moment alone is enough already. For now. And for Forever.

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