Archive of Our Own

He looks ridiculous. This is ridiculous.

The reflection in the mirror truly doesn’t look like him. The white dress shirt his dad lent him is too tight around his chest, and the black slacks make him look like a sorrowful office worker. His hair is styled up carefully for the first time in forever, and there’s a light layer of eyeshadow over his upper lid. He feels stupid.

Maybe he is stupid for confirming his assistance to his best friend Chanhee’s wedding, even if he did that not even two days before today. He received the invitation at least six months ago, back in November, wrapped in a pink envelope and written in the prettiest handmade calligraphy he has ever seen, careful work obviously made by his fiance, Kevin.

Right when he picks up his phone from his desk to tell his best friend that he can’t go, pulling some lame excuse, a message pops up on his screen.

It’s from Chanhee. Of course it has to be from Chanhee. From who else could it be?

Chanhee: ji changmin i SWEAR if you’re not here when the ceremony starts i AM going to pass the fuck out i’m so nervous i feel like i’m dying

Chanhee: i’m literally begging for you to come

Chanhee: look i know you don’t like weddings because of the /you know what/ situation but i need you here more than ever

Chanhee: you fucker i know you are reading the messages can you please reply

Changmin can’t avoid the sigh that comes out of his mouth. He guesses he can’t back out now. His best friend needs him, and that’s more important than his own selfishness. 

Changmin: i will be there in ten

He regrets saying those words right the next second. 

He fucking hates weddings.

It’s awful, he thinks, to expect from him to say hi to more than two hundred people he doesn’t even know, to have dinner sitting with strangers by his side, to have to get drunk with the sound of old pop music in the background standing alone in the farthest corner possible. 

Even without knowing who the guests will be, Changmin is pretty positive that Chanhee and Kevin are going to be the only people he will recognize. It’s not like he knows a lot of people, anyway. He’s shy and socially awkward most of the time, his friendships being limited to the happy couple and absolutely nobody else. He doesn’t feel lonely, he doesn’t need more people in his life. But it’s true that sometimes, just sometimes, he wishes he had more friends. More people to party with and more people to tell his darkest secrets to.

He wishes he had more people to trust.

It’s also awful to think that the first and only wedding he has attended has been his own. And that it didn’t end well. He remembers the pain and the tears as if it happened yesterday. He shakes his head, trying to erase the memory once again. But it doesn’t work as well as he wished it would.

The internal rambling he’s currently having inside his head keeps going when he gets into his car and turns on the engine. The sigh that comes out of his mouth when he curls his fingers around the steering wheel is more exasperated than anything else. He really doesn’t want to go there. He has had a bad feeling ever since he confirmed his assistance that hot Wednesday morning. 

He doesn’t recognize the song that’s playing on the radio, but he doesn’t even recognize himself, so who is he trying to fool? He feels lost in a too-big world, a speck of dust hiding behind sparkling glitter.

As if he is going on autopilot, he arrives at where the wedding is taking place without even noticing. He thinks that they went a little overboard with booking a whole damn palace for the celebration, but in the end it doesn’t really surprise him: they have more than enough money for that and more, Chanhee having his own haute couture brand and Kevin being a recognized painter, singer and pianist. Their rent makes Changmin want to laugh at how pathetic his own is in comparison.

It also doesn’t surprise him when a valet asks for his car keys from outside his window. He will scream at Chanhee about this later. Now, though, he has other stuff to do, like finding him, for example. That will be a good start.

When he takes the first step of the marble stairs that lead inside the palace, he feels his knees threatening to fail him. It’s then when he notices, dazedly, that his whole body is trembling like jello, from his hands to the tips of his toes. 

He’s somehow absolutely terrified, as if a ghost had just appeared right in front of his face. He scans the large hall with his eyes right when he crosses the huge main door made out of glass. To his right, a sophisticated baroque-styled door leads to the small church where the ceremony will take place. To his left, another glass door, similar to the one he just passed through, leads to the ballroom, where what seems like dozens of well-decorated and prepared tables are waiting for the guests with the expensive dishes they will enjoy for dinner.

Opting to not scan the room further, in some way knowing that he won’t find Chanhee here, he walks up by instinct the new set of marble stairs that separate both sides of the hall, turning to the right and walking down the long hallway he meets at the top. Here, it’s more peaceful, the chatter from the hall getting muffled the further he walks from there. When he turns again to the right, one of the walls opens in beautiful, huge windows, showing the garden from the bottom floor. He can see a string quartet playing a soft melody that can be heard even from up there, creating an alluring atmosphere to the guests that are fancily sipping on champagne, conversing either standing up or sitting on the almost natural rocks around the artificial lake.

Yes, the couple definitely went extremely overboard with all of this.

It doesn’t take him long to find Chanhee. It’s when he finishes walking along the cloister’s balcony and reaching the next corridor when he hears him arguing with someone, apparently. It sends a shiver up and down his spine.

“You shut the fuck up, I can’t do this!” Changmin hears it clear as day, speeding up to reach the room where the scream came from and steps inside, startling Chanhee and his sister, the only ones occupying it. Both Chanhee’s and Chulmin’s faces lighten up at his arrival. Changmin can only hope for the best.

“God, Changmin.” He stands up abruptly from the couch he’s sitting on, almost throwing him on the floor when he hugs him. He’s wearing an elegant black and white tuxedo, his makeup and his hair fairly well done and his funny pink Converses contrasting cutely with his attire. Just a glance to the room is enough for him to see where the shoes he’s actually going to wear are, beautiful patent leather black moccasins that are nothing like Chanhee’s style. 

“That’s me.” Changmin says when they part, giving him his best smile because he knows how bad his best friend needs it right now. “Why are you freaking out now? You were super excited like five days ago.”

Chanhee, following his usual behavior, rolls his eyes and throws himself back on the couch, his sister looking between Chanhee and him with worried eyes. “I guess he’s kind of… Nervous.” She says, sitting on a chair nearby and getting her stilettos on. She looks beautiful, her dark hair tied into a light bun, letting a few wisps of hair fall down onto her lightly made-up face, red lipstick mimicking the color of both her long dress and the heels. She looks delicate, but also fierce. Exactly the kind of aura Chanhee needs right now.

Not the one from his disorientated, lugubrious best friend.

“Nervous? Goddamnit, Chulmin, I’m freaking out.” He covers his face with his hands, the palms muting the small scream he lets out. Changmin has to be honest, this is the first time he sees Chanhee like this. This is the first time he is doubting a decision. Can this be any good?

“I already told you it’s normal to feel like this.” She says, standing up to hand him the forgotten moccasins, forcing him to leave the Converses and put them on. She looks beautiful, the open skirt of the dress showing the pale expanse of one of her legs. 

“Everything will be alright.” Changmin is the one to speak now, both Chanhee and Chulmin looking up at him as he leans against the door frame. “Kevin loves you to death, and you love him too. You two are meant to be, little lovebirds. Stop worrying.”

He knows that Chanhee’s smile is sincere when he displays it, painted proud in the middle of his face. This is what Changmin needed to feel better. To see his best friend’s smile. To know that his wedding won’t end up the way his own did.

Because Kevin loves him. He does.

“Thank you, Changmin. Really. That’s what I needed.” He stands up, and followed by Changmin and his sister, walks out of the room, their firm steps echoing around the empty corridors. The garden is deserted now, the string quartet discreetly speaking between themselves, and the hall is significantly quieter now, the previous chatter replaced by the soft melody of a piano.

They have arrived just in time.

Everyone is gathered inside the baroque chapel where the ceremony is taking place. Kevin, as expected, is at the high altar, sitting before the grand piano and moving his fingers gracefully over the keys, not missing a single note, even when he lifts his gaze up and sees the man about to be his husband standing by the arc that makes the door, a bright smile decorating his face. Chanhee is left alone when Kevin notices their arrival, Changmin and Chulmin deciding to stand at the back of the chapel instead of taking their seats.

Both Chulmin and him stay there during the whole ceremony. She’s looking around all the time, checking that everything is alright, that the ceremony goes well and that she has the tissues ready for when her brother starts to cry. Changmin, on the other hand, is trying to keep himself distracted from any intrusive thoughts that may come into his mind by counting how many angels are embodied on the fresco to his left. He’s already counting twenty-two when the ceremony finishes, tears streaming down the cheeks of almost all of the guests.

He kind of feels bad for not paying attention to the most important and memorable moment of Chanhee’s life, but he feels worse knowing that he was robbed from that exact same moment.

“Hey, big boy.” Chulmin speaks to him, making him lift his head to look at her. She was already tall enough without the heels. The added height just makes him look more of a gnome next to her. “Stop thinking, will you? I can hear your thoughts.” She stops to give him a soft pat on the head. Changmin wants to smile, but he can’t come up to it. “You should get going to the reception already, before the ballroom gets too full to even move around.”

“Yes. I should.”

That’s all he says. It’s plain, dead-like. He doesn’t feel well, his limbs heavier than ever when he tries to move them towards the ballroom. The memories flooding his brain start to drain the last drops of energy he still had. He doesn’t pay attention to the amount of people he has to pass by on the hall to get to the half-empty ballroom when he crosses it through, from side to side.

He doesn’t notice the pair of wide, shocked eyes looking at him.

It’s easier than what he thought to find his seat. He doesn’t check the name cards that lay on the other plates that decorate the table he sits in. As if he would recognize anyone. He stares at the silver cutlery in front of him, and at the swan-shaped napkin that sits on top of the plate. He wants to punch the beautiful shape, destroy it, ruin it, tear it down just like his life did. But he doesn’t. Because he still has a sprinkle of self control lingering inside his body.

The first person who sits down next to him, is yet another beautiful woman. She’s clearly a foreigner, dark skin contrasting beautifully with the aquamarine of her dress. Her makeup is subtle, barely there, but she doesn’t need it to look stunning. Her hair is completely shaved, something he had never seen on a woman but that he certainly isn’t against, even less when it looks this good. She looks elegant, wonderful. And he might be biased already, but he almost melts at the way she smiles at him as a greeting.

“Hello.” She speaks, holding up her hand for him to take. He does, his own trembling when they shake their hands. She looks lighthearted and nice. Maybe today won’t go that badly. “I’m Hyacinth. I’m from Canada, if it wasn’t obvious.” She laughs, and Changmin finds himself laughing too. “I came for Kevin. I didn’t know this would be so crowded, though.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Changmin goes back to introvert mode, fixing his eyes on the swan napkin. “I’m Chanhee’s best friend.”

Perhaps the girl realizes his awkwardness, because her only response is a low hum and nothing else, instead drifting her attention to the newly-arrived guy, who sits by Changmin’s right. He overhears that his name is Jacob and that he is Kevin’s best friend, even if he lives in Canada too. Their conversation can be summarized as them flirting while pretending to talk about their hometown, Changmin third-wheeling the whole damn time. He can’t say he’s not used to it, though. He doesn’t complain.

The table gets its six seats almost completely occupied in the blink of an eye, the only empty chair being the one right in front of Changmin. The guests he’s sharing table with seem all to be from Canada, happily telling anecdotes about where they live and exposing embarrassing TMIs about Kevin, just for the fun of it. They look like they’re all good friends already. He doesn’t even know if they had met beforehand, but their initial greetings showed that they didn’t. 

All of them take Changmin’s presence for granted. Instead of getting sad about that fact, he welcomes it. He’s not in the mood to be there, let alone talk with some strangers he’s supposed to be nice to. Not talking with him is doing a favor to them all. 

He spends the time alone with his thoughts staring at the empty seat in front of him. He wants to sneak at the name, see if this time he will be lucky enough to recognize it, but he resists the urge. He shouldn’t pay for what time will give him for free. So he waits, patiently, picking at the dead skin of his fingers to help him ground himself. It doesn’t work, but it’s all he can do. 

When he looks up to search for Chanhee, he can’t find him. He also can’t see Chulmin, not even Kevin. He’s truly alone, left here to take care of himself the best way he can manage. He feels like he’s at the peak of breaking down in tears at how awful he feels.

This was a bad idea: he shouldn’t have assisted to this stupid wedding.

And what happens next is what definitely proves it.

He doesn’t look at the man that shakily sits in front of him, it’s not like he needs to. He’s sure that he won’t recognize him. He doesn’t know anyone here, the man is not going to be an exception.

Except, that he is an exception.

“Changmin?” He asks, his voice trembling and shy. Changmin recognizes that voice perfectly. His eyes widen, and when he looks up to see the face of the man in front of him, he wishes he hadn’t.

His ex-boyfriend. The one who promised him the moon and all the stars, but didn’t give him anything. The one who left him with a feeling of emptiness that still lingers inside his heart to this day, five years after the last time he saw him. The day when they were supposed to get married. The day when the man in front of him destroyed his world.

His body stiffens, not being able to form a single word. His eyes are still on the man, incapable of moving, of breathing, of even existing by the other’s presence. His urge to cry increases now, his eyelashes getting wet, but he doesn’t let any tear fall down his face. Because to cry is for the weak. And he has to be strong for this.

“Juyeon.”

——————————

The wait is starting to feel useless. He’s tired, sitting on the altar’s floor, having to bear with the incriminating gaze of the priest behind him. But, oh, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care a single bit, not when an hour has already passed and his fiance is nowhere to be seen. 

Isn’t the day of your wedding supposed to be the best day of your life? A day to remember? They have talked about this, dreamed, even. But Juyeon just fucked up it all. Changmin doesn’t understand why he’s not here. Last night, Juyeon promised that today would be unforgettable, magical, alluring. He sealed the promise, loving kisses and wrinkled sheets being enough witnesses of it.

He has broken his promise.

Juyeon promised to be always together, to love him until his last breath, to give him everything and more just to make him smile.

That was all a lie.

Changmin stands up from the floor, startling the guests gathering and sitting on the perfect white benches. Needless to say his motive, he walks down the aisle, the one that his future husband should’ve walked through, and steps outside of the cathedral. Nobody questions him, just staring at his spiritless figure as he wanders like a ghost towards the exit. His first instinct is to go home, so that’s what he does. If Juyeon is somewhere, it must be home. He doesn’t have the heart to run away without a word. Juyeon knows better. He is better.

Their apartment is oddly silent when Changmin steps into it. Their cat doesn’t greet him like she always does. The air conditioning system is off even if it’s summer, and no other home appliance is on, like they always are. The door of their room is closed. Changmin’s hand trembles when he curls it around the door knob. He’s imagining the worst.

He doesn't find what he thought he would when he finally opens the door and steps into their room. Instead of some awful picture, what he sees is completely different. Juyeon’s suit is laying on their bed, untouched, his owner clad in sweatpants and a hoodie instead, sitting on the floor and not even lifting up his gaze to face Changmin because he knows well enough that it’s him.

Of course it is him.

“What are you doing here?” Changmin is the first one to speak. His voice is cold, like he wants it to be. His heart is breaking inside his chest with every second that passes. It’s not like he could talk in any other way given the circumstances. 

Juyeon doesn’t respond at first, burying his face in his hands as if that could make him disappear. It doesn’t exactly work, but Changmin will let it pass. He still loves him, in the end. Giving him a chance to explain himself is the least he can do.

“I can’t.” That’s all he says, after five long minutes of patient waiting. He’s still hiding his face. Changmin doesn’t have the gut to slap his hands away like he wants to. 

“You can’t what?” He’s dry, even a little too aggressive, but he can’t care. He’s so pissed. What the hell does Juyeon mean with that? Where did his words go?

“Do this. I can’t do this.” He sets his face free, but still won’t look at him. Changmin sighs, not believing what his eyes are seeing. Juyeon has never been like this. Not in the ten years they have been together, at least. They’ve been dating since they were in highschool, for God’s sake. He can’t even imagine living without Juyeon.

He must start to get used to it then. He won’t enjoy Juyeon’s presence for much longer.

“Where did everything you told me yesterday go? I thought you loved me. And now you do this.” Changmin’s words have all the venom in them. He wants them to hurt as much as he’s hurting right now.

“I love you.” He has tears on his eyes. Changmin does as well. 

“I can’t believe you now.” And he lets the tears fall. They have never had their heart broken, none of them. Each other is everything that they know. Changmin can’t believe that this is really happening. He wishes to wake up from this awful nightmare and see that everything is still alright. Even if he knows that that’s not going to happen. “If you would love me you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

“Can’t you have just a little bit of empathy right now, Changmin?”

“No, why don’t you have a little bit of empathy? You left me alone. At the fucking altar. With everyone including me waiting for you to come and you never did. I asked you why and you tell me that you can’t. Do you think that this is love, Juyeon? Did you lie to me yesterday, saying that you love me and promising me the world? Did you take your time with me on that fucking bed because you knew that it would be the last time?”

Changmin’s words leave Juyeon speechless. He’s downright sobbing, his eyes swollen and his cheeks wet with tears. For once, Changmin is not sorry. 

“I didn’t lie to you.” He manages in between his cries. Changmin punches the wall next to him, startling Juyeon at the sight of blood running down his hand from his knuckles. It doesn’t hurt, though. Nothing hurts more than the persistent pain on his chest.

“Then why can’t you fucking marry me, when we have been planing this for ages. Why did you give me this fucking ring if you can’t do anything about it.” He takes the silver ring off his bleeding finger, throwing it to the floor. It just makes Juyeon cry louder. Changmin has stopped caring about that. 

Juyeon doesn’t speak anymore. He sees with foggy eyes as Changmin starts gathering up his own things, putting them inside a suitcase and hands it to him when he finishes. “Why?” Is all he asks when he looks up at Changmin from the floor. 

“If you would love me, you would’ve shown me your love. You would’ve assisted in your own damn wedding, not letting me look like a fool. You should’ve thought better about what you were doing when you proposed to me, Juyeon. 

Because now we’re both hurt and I don’t know if I can fix that.”

——————————

“Didn’t expect you here, Juyeon.” He crosses his arms on his chest, looking straight into his eyes. He shivers, remembering that the last time he saw those beautiful, dark eyes, they were soaked with tears. Now, though, he displays his best plain face as he stares, careful to not showcase any kind of emotion.

He can’t let Juyeon know how much he wants to break down right now, how much he wants to cry because he has missed him more than what he will ever admit.

“I’m shocked to see you here as well.” He says, not before awkwardly coughing, uncarefully taking the swan napkin and shaking it in the air, destroying its original form and making it plain.

“Why are you, when I’m literally Chanhee’s best friend.”

“I didn’t know it.”

“Come on, don’t lie to me.” The double meaning of that sentence makes his heart clench inside his chest. “You know well enough.”

“I didn’t remember.”

“Sure.” 

“You won’t ask me why I’m here?”

“No, I don’t care.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

The rest of the guests on the table watch their interaction amusedly, smiles on their faces. They must find it funny. But they don’t know why they’re acting this way. Why Changmin’s eyes are watery and why Juyeon’s tremble when he hears his last word.

Changmin is about to speak again, but a waitress interrupts him, serving the first plate of the night to their table. Before he knows it, a poor cooked lobster is looking at him. He doesn’t know how to eat it, where to even start, so he simply lets the inert crustacean judge him. He takes a glance at Juyeon, and sees him struggling with the shell, hitting it with the tweezers the waitress gave him in an attempt to break it. Changmin wants to laugh, but he won’t do it. He’s supposed to be mad.

Even if anger is by far the emotion he’s feeling the least right now.

“You’re staring.” Juyeon says, without looking up from his lobster. Changmin hasn’t noticed until now how handsome he looks tonight. He looks great on that two-buttons-open sky blue shirt, his hair styled up showing off his dark undercut. He used to have his hair a little longer five years ago. Changmin can’t help but to wonder how soft it would feel if he caresses it back.

“Does it bother you?” He leans back on the chair, not moving his gaze from him. The others stopped paying attention to them right when the food arrived. Good.

“It has never bothered me, and you know that.” It’s now when he finally looks up, a stupidly beautiful smile on his face. He’s just as breathtaking as he used to be, and it’s starting to drive Changmin crazy. 

Memories flood his brain, both good and bad ones. When they first kissed under the rain on that august night, or when they first fought because Changmin forgot to feed their cat just once. When they shared their first time on a lazy Sunday morning, or when he comforted a crying Juyeon for a whole night when he failed a class in college.

Over these five years, he hadn’t thought about him much. He worked hard on erasing every reminder of him, made sure to burn every single trace of his scent, even if sometimes that work was extremely hard to perform.

Now, he realizes how much he has missed him. He realizes that, as much as he fought for them to go, the feelings still linger.

Maybe he still loves Juyeon, in the end. But it’s still too soon to jump into conclusions.

“How have you been doing?” Changmin asks haphazardly without really paying attention to Juyeon, his eyes back on the lobster. Juyeon decides to do the same, which relieves him: his gaze was starting to pierce holes on his skull. 

“Been well, travelled around the world. I lived in Paris, Barcelona, California and New Mexico, but now I’m back in Seoul.” He finally manages to take a small piece of flesh out of the mess that his lobster is, munching on it happily and smiling like he just won the damn lottery. “And you?”

Changmin thinks it’s ridiculous, how they keep conversing as if they didn’t end the way they did. “I’ve been the same, if it wasn’t obvious enough.” He pauses for a second to take a sip from his white wine, keeping eye contact with Juyeon the whole time. “You have changed.”

“Have I?” The blood rushes to his cheeks, tainting them red. He may have changed his aspect a little bit, but he still has that habit of bringing his hand up to his nape when he’s embarrassed. Changmin enjoys every second of it. “You changed, too.”

“People change.” He sips on his wine again, a poor attempt of making the world around him blur. “People disappoint, too.”

Juyeon does well at pretending that Changmin’s comment wasn’t directed at him. He should have become an actor, Changmin figures. The Juyeon he used to know would’ve been extremely hurt.

Maybe he is, hiding his feelings under the beautiful armor that his unamused face is. 

“Why are you here?” Changmin finally asks, the curiosity near to kill him. His inquisitive personality won’t back down, even now. 

“I thought you didn’t care.” He laughs, finally giving up with the lobster and keeping eye contact with him. It’s intimidating, making Changmin’s hands sweat. It’s not like he can do anything about it. From the beginning, Juyeon has had this effect on him. Before, it was out of pure love and desire. Now, though, it is something else. He could catalog it as regret. Regret of letting him go, of not being able to keep him. 

“You see, I’m just curious. You never liked Chanhee.”

At this, Juyeon laughs again, the sudden reminder of the way he used to be fills his mind. Chanhee, being Changmin’s best friend, obviously spent a lot of time with him. This always made Juyeon jealous. Changmin tried to understand it at first, but he couldn’t: he found it ridiculous. Juyeon also spent a lot of time with his friends and Changmin didn’t say anything, because he didn’t give a fuck. 

But Juyeon was just insecure that his only love would leave him for someone better, leaving him alone because he never felt like he was enough. 

Changmin wants to laugh, seeing where everything ended instead. How ironic.

“That’s true, but I’m not here for him.” Now it’s his time to sip on his wine, making a funny face at the bubbly feeling running down his throat. He has never liked alcohol, even less these kinds of fancy beverages. “I met Kevin around two years ago at a photography exposition in New York. We have been close since then. I had never met his fiance, though, so when I saw Chanhee walking down the aisle, I was pretty surprised.”

“You’re telling me that you assisted at one of your close friend’s wedding without even knowing who he was engaged to?” Changmin smiles, not noticing the waitress getting rid of his lobster plate before she replaces it with a piece of sirloin that is legitimately bigger than his head.

“A wedding means free food and drinks. Of course I did.”

And then, just like old times, they laugh together. They laugh as if nothing had happened between them, as if they were long time friends, joking about any stupidity that crossed their minds. As if nothing had really happened.

This is what scared Changmin the most in seeing Juyeon again — because he knew well enough that the opportunity would come again. It always does, the world is small, and today’s event is just the proof of it. He was scared that this would happen, them acting like they did before their own wedding, like they did for all those years.

“You’re unbelievable, Juyeon.” Changmin takes his wine glass and lifts it up, as if to toast with him. Juyeon takes his own as well, and even if he hesitates, he clashes the glasses together, sipping on the bubbly liquid but not before giving Changmin a smile.

The simple action makes Changmin’s heart flutter, stop, speed up, make a cartwheel, kill him and resurrect him again. All because of Juyeon’s beautiful smile. For the way his face lights up in the most alluring way possible, brightening his darkened world once again.

During these five years, Changmin’s life has been significantly monotone, as if all the colors in his world were taken away by the older, leaving him to see only different shades of grey. He hadn’t had fun, he hadn’t travelled or met new people or did crazy things like he used to do with Juyeon. 

Now he’s realizing how much he needs Juyeon in his life. Because the colors are blooming once again before his eyes.

“Says you. What have you been up to, these years?”

“Not much. Kept going with the dance studio, nothing out of the norm. I’ve only been going out with Chanhee and Kevin, too. I have too much work to focus on anything else, you know.” 

He lies in those sentences more than he has lied in all his life. 

It’s true that he kept being the owner of his dance studio, but he had to combine it with working part-time at a supermarket to be able to pay the excessive rent of both his apartment and the studio. If he just went out exclusively with Chanhee and Kevin is because he didn’t go out at all. The only times he leaves his house apart from work is when Chanhee forces him out of it. His life is miserable, yes, he admits it. 

He hasn’t had any relationship either after Juyeon. He tried, he really did, going to clubs and all of that with Chanhee and ending the night crying on his bed. Kevin had arranged him some blind dates as well, but none of them went as well as his friends would’ve liked them to. 

None of them was Juyeon. And if it wasn’t him, he didn’t want it.

After all, Juyeon is all he knows. Not being with him felt weird, bad, so he simply didn’t. It’s not like he needed a partner at all. He didn’t lie when he said that he is way too busy to think about anything that isn’t paying up the bills.

“Ah, you’re boring.” He says, and after seeing Changmin’s clearly shocked face, he laughs. “I’m joking! You’re so hardworking, Changmin. A little too much if you ask me. I don’t have to ask to know that you haven’t rested at all, am I right?”

“You are right.” He sips on his wine for what he decides is the last time. Getting drunk is not included in his plans for today. He’s already feeling lightheaded, even though the alcohol is not the culprit. “Seeing that my life is so boring for you, why don’t you tell me about yours?”

Juyeon’s expression is dreamlike when he rests his chin on top of his hands and smiles. “I’ve just been discovering what the world had been hiding from me. I met new people, found new places, discovered new things. I’ve been travelling for five years, and I don’t regret it.”

“I figured you have been living your best life, Juyeon. I won’t even ask how many people you slept with during those years, then.”

“With no one, Changmin.” His eyes are sincere, but Changmin doesn’t want to believe him. Because he knows well enough the double meaning those words hold. Maybe he has been thinking about him all these years. Maybe Changmin isn’t the only fool in this faded relationship.

“And with that face of yours you want me to believe it? Bet you moved both men’s and women’s hearts all over the world.” Changmin is still in denial, refusing to believe Juyeon’s previous words. It’s impossible that he had really been waiting for him. Just like he did. 

“It’s up to you to believe me or not. But no, I didn’t sleep with anyone.” Juyeon is still sipping on his wine, probably finishing his second glass already. “But it is true that people were interested.”

“You don’t even deny it, huh?” Changmin decides to ignore everything Juyeon said but the last sentence. If he doesn’t talk about it, Juyeon won’t ask if it was the same for him. Changmin doesn’t need to expose himself like that. He can play it cool, pretend that he has had plenty of fun these years.

Yes, crying yourself to sleep is super fun.

“Why would I? You know that I don’t like lying.” He gives him a look that Changmin is not able to decipher, and starts cutting the forgotten sirloin. Changmin doesn’t feel like eating at all. He doesn’t think he has even had a proper meal since yesterday. He has been nervous ever since. He curses at his instincts for warning him that this would happen.

“Yeah, whatever.” He brushes off the comment he’s dying to say — then why did you lie to me — and takes with his fingers one of the pieces of carrot that accompany the huge piece of meat and munching on it, not caring about the disgusted glance he receives from this Jacob guy. 

“Do you have anything to say about that?” He’s poking at the wound and he knows it, but he’s tipsy enough to not care.

“Of course not”

“You don’t look too good.” He points an inculpatory fork at Changmin, his left brow arched. “You’re pallid.”

“Stop speaking nonsense, I’m okay.” He slaps his hand out of his view, the touch sending sparkles all over his skin. He has missed his touch, the warmth of Juyeon’s body and the security it always provided him. 

“So we’re not going to talk about it, right?” Juyeon’s voice gets significantly quieter at those words, lowering his head pretending to pay attention to where his fork stabs the sirloin. 

“I would prefer not to, actually.” He takes another piece of carrot, trying to distract himself but failing. It was a matter of time. There was no way that they could’ve had a normal conversation without remembering the past. They’re human, they’re curious, and Juyeon’s departure left both of them heartless. Of course they would want to talk about it, even if Changmin still thinks that it’s a bad idea. He was happy living in the fake scenario they had built during these past minutes.

But the past always springs up.

“I respect it.” Juyeon is comprehensive, as always, shaking his head as if that way he could push the past away. He must be doing something well, because of the next thing he says. “What happened to Sally?”

This makes Changmin smile, tears threatening to fall from his bottom lashline. Sally, their black cat, the one that had been with them, and later with Changmin alone, forever.

“She passed away last year.” He sniffles and closes his eyes, an attempt to not cry. Somehow, it works. “She was old, you know?”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I wish I could’ve been there.” Juyeon is sincere with his words, looking into Changmin’s moist eyes directly. 

Changmin can’t bear it anymore. He is sick of pretending that this is fine, of pretending that hearing Juyeon’s voice is not affecting him, of having to stay composed when he’s right in front of the man who ruined his life. He abruptly stands up from the table, startling all the guests, but specially startling Juyeon, who looks at him with wide eyes.

He’s giving him the same look he gave him five years ago, when he gave him his suitcase and asked him to leave. The same big, doe eyes, shining bright under the warm light coming from the crystal lamps and the chandelier above the table. Changmin is on the verge of tears as well, not even daring to look into Juyeon’s eyes anymore when he speaks again. This time, the whole table is looking at him, not really understanding what’s happening.

The audience is meaningless for him. Nothing matters but Juyeon now.

“I also wish you could’ve been there, Juyeon, but you clearly weren’t. I gave you my fucking heart and you just played with it as you wanted to. I’m done with acting like everything is okay between us. We’re not actors, we’re not good at pretending. I can’t do this anymore.”

Leaving astonished gasps behind him, he turns around and parts towards the exit of the room, walking into the garden as his only exhaust outlet. It is thankfully not crowded at all, only a few men absently chattering and smoking and the same string quartet from before now eating sandwiches. He feels bad for them, knowing the feast they’re having inside, but he has other things in mind to worry about. 

He takes a seat on one of those rocks around the small lake and looks up at the starry sky, trying to clear his mind. The sound of the water behind him helps him feel better, even if it’s just a little, exhaling softly onto the humid summer air. Even if he knew that this day would come, he still feels dizzy about what just happened. He feels like he has just drained all of his energy in trying to fool himself into acting like nothing happened. 

He buries his face into his sweaty hands, muting his sobs against his skin. The makeup might get ruined. But that’s not important. 

He wants to cry harder, to scream, maybe even walk into that ballroom once again, grab Juyeon by the collar and punch him, or kiss him, he doesn’t know. His brain is messing him up, drawing pretty scenarios where that last thing happens. Them, kissing under the moonlight. Them, caressing each other’s faces on a Saturday morning at the kitchen while they make their breakfast. Them, having one of their date nights, the ones that Changmin absolutely loved and now misses more than anything.

It’s right when he’s going to scream out loud when he feels a delicate hand pressing against his back. He knows how Juyeon’s hands feel against his body, and this one is definitely not his.

That’s why he looks up.

He didn’t know who he was expecting, but definitely not Chulmin, sitting next to him with the word ‘worry’ written all over her beautiful face. She offers him a tissue, Changmin taking it with shaky hands and blowing his nose, not caring about formalities anymore. He’s downright sobbing, Chulmin shouldn’t be expecting him to be subtle. She certainly isn’t.

“I saw what happened.” She joins Changmin in looking at the front. Through the big windows, they can see the ballroom, filled with light, life and joy. There are people laughing, chattering, being happy overall. Changmin can’t see Juyeon as much as he searches. It must be his brain, muting his presence, just to shut him up. “I’m really sorry.”

“Did you know he was coming?” He looks to his left to face Chulmin, just in time to see the way she nods. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

It’s not like they’re friends. If Changmin knows Chulmin, it is entirely because of Chanhee. She was always home when Changmin came to visit, greeting him with a smile and saying goodbye the same way. The few conversations he has had with her have been nice. She’s wise, very obviously older, and also extremely comprehensive. That’s why, now, Changmin is willing to open up his soul and show her his pain. Also because she’s the only person he has. He shouldn’t forget about that.

He’s completely alone.

“You couldn’t have avoided him for much longer.” Her smile looks as dreamy as the environment they’re in. The fairy lights wrapped around the trees that stand proud on each corner of the garden make the air feel a little more magical, even if it’s bittersweet for Changmin. “It has been five years already, Changmin. Did you really think that you would never see him again?”

“It was in my plans, yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, ruining the styling. As if that mattered now.

“The world is small, Changmin. And people that are meant to be will always end up meeting again, no matter what.”

“Juyeon and I are not meant to be, that’s ridiculous.” He stares at his hands, making him cry harder. Even if he threw it to the floor when they fought, he still wears the ring that Juyeon gave him when he proposed marriage to him. He’s so used to wearing it that he barely notices it anymore. But now, the simple silver circle weighs more than one thousand gold ingots. 

“You’re in denial. It’s okay, I get it, I know how things ended between you two, but you will have to realize sooner or later that you two clearly still love each other.”

She grabs his chin and forces him to turn his head to face her. Her grip almost hurts him, her gel nails digging into the skin, but it’s what he needs to come back to earth. He blinks once, twice, keeping eye contact with Chulmin. They’re dangerously close, and anyone that could see them would think inappropriately about their relationship. Nobody notices them, luckily.

“The dance is going to start, Changmin.” She releases his face and turns to look inside the ballroom again. She’s right. Everyone is starting to stand up from their respective places and moving to the new space that has just been opened, where purple and blue lights illuminate the marble floor. This time he does see Juyeon, walking towards the dancefloor with his head down. He hates seeing him like this. “I think you should go.”

“Hm, I think so too.”

Chulmin doesn’t follow him inside, but it’s not like he was expecting her to. Again, they’re not friends. Changmin came here alone, and alone he will have to face the man that has lived inside his head for a good part of his life. He is a grown adult, he can do this. They’re no longer teenage kids that cry when they get stepped on. Avoiding Juyeon, even more after the conversation they had, is the worst thing that he can do.

By the time he’s entering the ballroom once again, with Chulmin attentively watching him through the window, nobody is left at the tables, every single guest gathered on the new dance floor. They are making a circle, leaving the middle free, right where the newly married couple are hugging each other and swinging softly from left to right to the slow rhythm of the song that’s playing in the background. 

Changmin scans the room with foggy eyes, but seeing as he didn’t find Juyeon, he decides to watch as the happy couple has their first dance.

It’s obvious that they’re crying, the small hiccups sometimes a little more noticeable, but the smiles on their faces give their real feelings away. He can swear that he has never seen Chanhee happier in his whole life, tears moistening his cheeks and the brightest smile on his face. They dance like they’re made for each other, their bodies encasing perfectly. Kevin’s arms around Chanhee’s waist, Chanhee’s arms around Kevin’s neck. They look at each other like they have the universe inside their eyes.

Just like Changmin looked into Juyeon’s eyes.

——————————

“Come on, Changmin! Don’t you want to dance with me?”

Juyeon has his best smile painted on his beautiful face, his hand extended for Changmin to hold. Changmin is tired, the unbearable summer heat making him feel more exhausted than usual, but when he sees his boyfriend’s bright smile and his hand inviting him, he just can’t say no.

“I hate you.” He says, and contrary to his words, takes Juyeon’s hand tightly, letting him bring him closer and spin him around as if he was a ballerina. The sudden movement makes him stumble, almost falling to the floor before Juyeon’s strong hands are wrapped around his waist, pulling him up against his body.

Now, his back is against Juyeon’s bare chest, trying to follow his movements but failing miserably, making Juyeon laugh. He uses his grip on his middle to turn him around again and lift him in the air, dropping him back onto the floor when he starts punching his arms.

“Do you know how bad of an idea dancing in this boiling heat is?” Changmin says as he spins Juyeon around himself, getting on his tippy toes when he faces him again to press a chaste kiss on his sweet lips. They taste like the vanilla ice cream they shared before. Changmin loves it as much as if it was the first time.

“I’m starting to notice, love.” He says, kind of ironically, brushing the sweat pooling on his forehead with the back of his hand and pulling Changmin even closer, their body heat way too high. This time, Changmin thinks that it’s not because of the weather. “But isn’t it fun?”

He lifts Changmin in the air once again, the younger supporting his weight on Juyeon’s shoulders. He lets himself be spinned around in the air, loud laughs coming from both their mouths when their heads start to feel dizzy.

Changmin doesn’t think he could ever get tired of this. The Stevie Wonder song playing in the background is forgotten right when they get lost in each other’s eyes, trying to even their heavy breathing when Changmin finally lays his feet on the floor again.

“I love you so fucking much, Changmin.” Juyeon caresses his hair back, later letting his hand rest against his cheek. He wants to lean in to kiss him properly already, but he prefers waiting for Changmin’s response.

“Watch that language, Juyeon.” In the end Changmin is the one that joins their lips, moving them together without rush, softly, almost giggling when the sweetness from both tongues mix in between their mouths. “I can’t believe that you’re kissing me with that dirty mouth.” He kisses him again to contradict his words, this time making him walk backwards until they fall over the bed. 

“You didn’t reply.” He says, letting his hands roam around Changmin’s torso freely, making him melt under his touch. 

“You say that as if you didn’t know the answer.” Changmin starts mouthing at his jaw, shamelessly, like he always does. Now it’s Juyeon’s time to melt.

“I do know the answer, but it’s nicer to hear it from your pretty lips.” He brings up a hand to Changmin’s head in a poor attempt to ground himself, but he fails, Changmin’s mouth travelling carelessly over his skin. 

“I love you, Juyeon.” He climbs back up to press their lips together again, somehow sealing his promise that way. Their lips move slowly once again. They wouldn’t change this for the world. “I love you so fucking much.”

——————————

He doesn’t notice that he’s the only one standing there and not actually dancing until he shakes the thoughts out of his head and comes back to reality, looking at his surroundings only to see couples moving together to the slow song like the romantics they are.

Changmin wants to throw up.

When he tries to walk out of the dancefloor, he stumbles in his steps, almost falling down more times than what he would like to admit. His limbs tremble, feeling like jello once again, when his back finally meets the farthest wall he can find, holding on with his hands to prevent himself from sliding to the floor. The scene he lived with Juyeon years ago keeps moving inside his brain, from the lingering touches to the ice cream-like kisses. 

He brings his hands to his face once he can stand by himself, screaming into his palms once again. He hates that he feels like this. He hates that he still loves Juyeon, and misses him more than anything in this world. He misses his touch, his breath, his loving words. The fact that he has been the person who has hurted him the most in the entire world does not remove the fact that he’s also the only man he has ever loved. 

If these years have been harder than ever, it’s because of Juyeon’s absence. Changmin felt empty, incomplete without him. It’s not something he thinks he could really explain with words. It was as if something was missing, and tonight suddenly all the pieces have been brought together.

When he finally frees his face, a hand extended towards him is not what he expects to see, but it’s exactly what it is. He doesn’t need to look up to know that it belongs to Juyeon. 

He has held that hand for almost half of his life, anyway.

“Can you give me this dance, Changmin?” He looks down at him with big glossy eyes and the hint of a pout on his lips. Changmin doesn’t have to be a genius to know that maybe, just maybe, Juyeon has been crying as well. 

He thinks that he should hesitate given the situation, but he doesn’t even flinch when he moves his own hand up to meet Juyeon’s, letting the older guide him through the dancefloor in between the couples until he finds a spot he likes, not too crowded and a little far away from where the married couple are. Nobody is paying attention to them when Juyeon awkwardly wraps his arms around his waist, yet Changmin feels like all eyes are on them.

“You can leave if this makes you uncomfortable.” Juyeon quickly withdraws his arms and steps back, looking Changmin in the eyes. He has gotten more handsome over the years. 

“If I was uncomfortable I wouldn’t have taken your hand in the first place, Juyeon.” He closes the distance between them again and, with trembling hands, he wraps his arms around Juyeon’s neck, closing his eyes when he feels the older’s hands wandering over the small of his back and then up to his waist. They don’t recognize the slow song that’s playing in the background, but it doesn’t really matter to them. Nothing matters.

He doesn’t know if it’s inappropriate, but Changmin’s first instinct when they start moving is to get even closer, burying his face in Juyeon’s chest and trying to hide the tears that are running down his cheeks once again. Juyeon smells like soft roses and strawberries when he breathes in the scent of his shirt. He has missed this smell way too much.

“Why are you crying?” Juyeon brings a hand up from his spine to his hair, massaging his scalp softly like he used to do when he came home stressed from work. Instead of calming him down, it only makes him sob louder, staining Juyeon’s shirt with tears. Juyeon doesn’t even mind it.

Despite the crying, they don’t stop moving, the soft swinging of their legs following the song. Changmin tightens his hold over Juyeon’s shoulders, and the older does just the same with the protective hand on his waist, holding him just a little closer. They move like they’re still together. They haven’t lost each other’s pulse even after the passing of the years. 

“I’ve missed you.” Changmin babbles in between sobs, his forehead still pressed onto Juyeon’s chest. He curses the thin fabric of the shirt to block the contact of skin against skin he has longed for all this time. But for now, he feels content with the fingernails delicately scratching at his head in the way only Juyeon knows that makes him feel better.

This time, it does its job in making him feel grounded.

“I know you did.” He lets a single tear fall from one of his eyes, wiping it quickly and sniffling to hide how bad he wants to cry with Changmin right now. “I missed you too, you can’t imagine how much.” He resumes the caresses at Changmin’s scalp, earning a sigh from him. 

After a few minutes without talking, Juyeon’s words still lingering in the air, Changmin parts from his place at Juyeon’s chest, looking up at him with swollen eyes. Juyeon brings both his hands up his cheeks, wiping the tears off the skin with his thumbs, giving him the softest smile he can manage because Changmin deserves to know that all of this is alright.

Changmin is not the only one that has realized that the feelings have remained, after all.

“Why did you leave me?” To hide the tears spilling once again from the dark orbs, he pulls Juyeon closer, now sobbing without shame against his chest, not holding back. His arms have a tight grip on his waist now, and he doesn’t look like he has any intention of letting him go.

Changmin’s words leave Juyeon’s heart in shambles.

As well as he did back then, now he doesn’t know what to say. He was afraid of changes, of any modification to his seemingly perfect life. He enjoyed dating Changmin as much as Changmin did, and when he proposed to him, he thought he was doing the right thing. But that day, the day of their wedding, he started thinking of one hundred million ‘what if’ s that made him unable to even move from the floor. 

He thought that maybe, with the passing of time, Changmin would get tired of him. He didn’t think that their flame was going to be everlasting. They had kept it for years, and Juyeon was afraid that the fire that lighted up their desire for each other could die soon. It would’ve been the same if they stayed as boyfriends, but, being married, things turned out differently. You can’t leave your husband as easily as you could leave your boyfriend. And Juyeon was scared that it could make Changmin’s life grim with regret.

The thing he wanted the least was to be a burden to Changmin’s happiness.

He guesses that he just fucked up further.

“I was scared.” He simply says, playing with the hair at the back of Changmin’s neck. There’s no way of holding back his tears now, finally letting out what he has been dying to say for five years. “But it wasn’t because my feelings for you faded away. I didn’t lie to you, and I gave you that ring for a reason. I took it slow that night because I wanted you to feel loved, and even if I was stupid and I didn’t have the balls to walk down the aisle that mortified me, I still felt the same way.”

Changmin takes a few minutes to process what he has been told, so he closes his eyes and keeps moving his legs from side to side, following Juyeon’s unrushed movements like they have all the time in the world. The music has now changed to a more upbeat song, the people surrounding them now drunkenly screaming the lyrics that are in a language they don’t even know, but Juyeon and Changmin are too immersed in their own world to even care to notice. Changmin’s sobs ceased a few ago, even if Juyeon’s caresses on his hair still remain. 

It’s a sweet reminder that this is real, that this is not a dream Changmin’s about to wake up from. Juyeon is real, his touch is real, the thud of his heartbeat against his chest is very much real.

He feels at home once again. Changmin feels at home.

“You didn’t hate me?” Changmin hiccups between his words, still not daring to look up at Juyeon. He’s afraid he might fall for his smile once again. But, who’s he lying to, he’s already too deep into him. 

“I very much didn’t, Changmin. I could never hate you, not in a million years.” He is the one to make Changmin part from his chest, locking his eyes with his. Even with the redness that surrounds them now, Juyeon thinks that they look as beautiful as they have always been. He cups both his cheeks and leans a little closer, their noses barely inches away from brushing. The realization of where this can go makes Changmin’s heart jump, but he doesn’t want to back out now. He hasn’t been waiting five years to give up now. 

He moves his arms back up to Juyeon’s neck, now loosely resting them over his shoulders, and tilting his head to let Juyeon know that yes, he wants this. He holds his breath when Juyeon moves forward and…

Changmin swears he can see fireworks lighting up inside his eyelids the moment their lips touch.

None of them has kissed in five years, so the kiss is a little sloppy at first, the hint of a giggle threatening to escape from their mouths. Still, they enjoy every second until they finally find the correct tempo, practically caressing each other’s lips with their own. At some point, Juyeon is moving his hands down to his waist again, softly pulling him towards his body so that they end up even closer than before. The exchange of body heat is not precisely welcome on this warm summer night, but they’re not complaining either.

They don’t care about anything else that isn’t each other’s lips.

Juyeon, always being one for greediness, swipes his tongue over Changmin’s bottom lip, a silent request for him to open his mouth that he, obviously, complies with. His tongue plays as gently with his own as he remembered, softly grazing over the roof of his mouth and later pulling back, nipping at Changmin’s bottom lip when he parts, making him sigh.

When they look at each other after parting, they don’t feel like the years have passed at all. They giggle like they did back in highschool after the first kiss they shared, as if they were foolish teenagers in love instead of grown adults with healing hearts.

Their lips inevitably join again, sparkles running along their skins at the feeling of the warmth of each other. They don’t feel like they can part this time, their bodies stuck together like magnets with no intention of letting go. And they don’t want to let go. With each kiss that they share there, standing on the dancefloor with never-ceasing moving bodies around them, they feel like pieces of their hearts have been glued together.

With every touch of their lips, they start getting fixed together.

And they don’t want to ever let go.