The8 of Jun || JunHao

I Wish I Were Heather

As the cold storm wind rattles their apartment window, Minghao thinks about how his mother always told him that nobody can love him if he didn't love himself first. Of course, he never believed her and eventually found love in the form of a handsome man named Junhui and even scored himself another girl to add in the relationship. 

He still doesn't love himself, and he doubts he ever will, but Minghao was positive that he loved both of his partners dearly. He's sure they love him back just as much, even when they've been recently going out without Minghao a lot.

A tree branch bangs on their window once, then twice.

It's normal in polygamous relationships, Minghao tells himself as he shuffles in his position on the sofa. Junhui and their female partner went out for dinner tonight, too. Minghao guesses he wasn't invited because they both knew he'd be home late from university anyways. 

He doesn't mind, because he didn't want them to starve while waiting for him. He thinks he doesn't deserve to eat anyways, because he had gained some weight when he went out with some friends last week. He definitely needs to lose those extra few pounds.

A strike of lightning lights up the living room through the window for a few seconds.

Maybe that's why he isn't Junhui's favorite anymore, Minghao thinks. Their female partner is slim and has really nice legs. Junhui had always mentioned how he likes pretty people with pretty legs. 

Minghao doubts that he's no longer the favorite, though, because Junhui gave him his pink knitted sweater and even told him he looked better in it than Junhui did. Minghao doubted that statement too, because he knew—and he still knows—that he'll never come anywhere close to being pretty. She's the pretty one. Always was, and always will.

The couple living above them starts yelling at each other again.

Minghao starts to believe that he really isn't Junhui's favorite anymore. He recalls the lazy afternoon when he was laying down on the same sofa that he's on now, his head resting on Junhui's lap as they watched some Chinese game show on the television. 

She suddenly came bounding down from the stairs and stood right in front of the TV, wearing nothing else but the pink knitted sweater that Junhui gave him. She said she found it in Minghao's closet when she was looking for her shoes, and asked Junhui if she looked pretty. Junhui told her she looks better in it than himself. Ever since then, the sweater was hers.

The front door opens with a click.

Minghao curls up on the sofa and hides his face under a cushion. He hates himself. He hates how ugly he had gotten, to the point where Junhui had dropped him for her, because he doesn't look the same as he did when they first fell in love. He hates how he let this happen, how he let himself be left out of the relationship. 

All he can do is hate himself, and hate himself more, because Minghao can never get mad at the two people he loves. Specially not at her, because she's so pretty, almost like an angel, which just makes her even harder to hate.

The voices of two happy people resonate within the cold, dark apartment as they enter.

But at the same time, Minghao wishes she was dead. He hates how pleasing she is to the eyes. He hates how much he wants to look like her, how much he wants to be her, just so he could mesmerize Junhui the was she does when she walks by. He hates the way he barely looks half as pretty as her when they're standing next to each other, as if he needed any more reminders that he's hideous.

The living room light turns on, and footsteps come closer to the sofa. A kiss on the forehead and a whisper of goodnight. The lights turn back off, and two sets of footsteps fade away as they go upstairs.

Minghao tries to focus his thoughts on the sound of rain outside, but he couldn't help but wonder how Junhui could even kiss him when he looks so ugly. He wonders how warm it would be to sleep on the sofa tonight if he was wearing Junhui's pink knitted sweater.

He wonders how he'll face his mother when he comes home, when she already warned him right from the start.

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story based on the song Heather by conan gray

(p.s. sorry i've been inactive! my phone broke and all my stories died along with it RIP)