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It’s Dongmin’s ex’s birthday.
He doesn’t know how he remembers, or why. But he does. It’s January 26th, and it’s Moon Bin’s birthday.
No, actually, some of that is a lie. Dongmin knows exactly why he remembers. It’s because it’s January 26th, and right in front of him, sitting at a table outside a neat little café, is Bin.
Dongmin’s ex.
Dongmin is frozen at the end of the street. Bin is right there, right at that table just feet away. Dongmin hasn’t seen him in years. And there he is, sitting at an outside table of a quaint little joint, sipping a hot drink on a frigid January night.
Dongmin is torn. Should he go up to Bin and say hi? Should he speedwalk past and pray that Bin doesn’t recognize him? Should he just turn back and take the next street over and try in vain to convince himself for the foreseeable future that he is not a total coward?
Bin shifts and Dongmin panics. He throws himself behind the nearest thing he can find—a bright red mailbox lining the sidewalk—and desperately prays to every possible deity that Bin didn’t see him.
Dongmin crouches like a stone gargoyle behind his hiding place until he risks a quick look. Bin isn’t looking his direction, wrapped up in his coat and his own thoughts. Dongmin is safe.
He breathes a sigh of relief. He doesn’t want to face Bin without a plan of action. You can’t face your ex-boyfriend without prior preparation, even if you dated three years ago. Even if you broke up right before graduation and it ruined your entire graduation experience, made you get drunk when you went out for celebration drinks and cry pathetically on a random stranger’s shoulder in the most embarrassing display you’ve ever put on in public. Even then.
Dongmin chances another glance at Bin. He looks a lot like he did three years ago—just as tall, just as handsome. He’s not wearing a hat or earmuffs, which doesn’t surprise Dongmin. Bin’s body always ran at a higher temperature. Dongmin used to use him as his own personal heater, feet tucked under his thighs as they sat together on his bed.
He quickly dispels the thought. He has no lingering feelings for Bin beyond the anger and resentment. In fact, Dongmin can think of three reasons off the top of his head why they didn’t work out. He can even match specific instances, all of which spell out exactly why Bin and Dongmin were never meant to be.
Crouched behind a mailbox, knees already protesting from the position and the freezing air, it all comes back to Dongmin.
Reason #1: Bin is Inconsiderate
They start as roommates. It’s Dongmin’s second semester at university and he can’t survive one more day in the dorms. He finds a nice apartment to share and puts out an ad for a roommate, and Bin responds within two days.
Dongmin picks Bin after thorough research into him and the other candidates. It seems like a match made in heaven. They’re in the same year in the same university—Dongmin doing law, Bin studying physical education. Bin has a decent part-time job that pays him regularly. He’s not a party animal and seems neat enough. Perfect.
Things get a lot less easy when Dongmin realizes he’s deeply, utterly attracted to him, but it’s too late at that point. What is he supposed to do? Kick Bin out for being dreamy? So he just clenches his jaw and toughs it out, and stays strictly friendly with him.
It’s what keeps Dongmin from getting mad every time Bin forgets to wash the dishes or put his shoes in the cabinet. Bin’s apologetic smile and cute insistence that he won’t forget next time before he immediately forgets again.
One day, every obligation in the world jumps Dongmin and he’s swamped the entire day. Classes, club meetings, work. It’s hell. Dongmin is exhausted and the only thing that keeps him going is the thought of going home and downing an entire glass of orange juice in one go. There’s an almost full carton of it sitting in the fridge, waiting for him, crying for him. Dongmin just needs to survive the day and it’s his.
When he finally walks through the door of the tiny apartment it’s past ten and drizzling outside. It doesn’t matter. Dongmin is finally done with the day, and he can finally have his juice. He says hi to Bin, showers and changes, all the time thinking of the juice that he’s earned. And then finally, finally, it’s time.
Dongmin opens the fridge and he nearly cries when he sees the carton, sitting exactly where he left it. He picks it up.
It’s empty.
For a second Dongmin thinks he’s delirious. The carton is too light. He shakes it, and feels the liquid inside slosh around the bottom. It’s hardly a sip.
The orange juice is gone. And there’s only one possible culprit.
Dongmin storms over to Bin’s room. The door is open and Bin is there, laying on his bed, reading a book. He looks up as Dongmin walks in.
“Hey, Min,” he says, smiling. “What’s up?”
In reply Dongmin holds up the empty juice carton.
“Oh, yeah, I had some,” says Bin. “Don’t worry, I left some for you.”
“A spoonful,” says Dongmin through gritted teeth. “You left me a spoonful.”
“No way,” says Bin, grinning. “There’s enough in there.”
Dongmin throws the empty carton at him. It bounces off Bin’s forehead, who’s too stunned to do anything except blink back.
“If there was enough, that would’ve hurt!” says Dongmin. He’s getting close to yelling, but he can’t help it. “I just wanted some juice. That’s literally all I thought about all day, and you drank it. You put the empty thing back in the fridge. You—”
He cuts himself off. He can feel himself tearing up in frustration, and it just makes him angrier. He whirls around and goes to his room. He slams the door shut behind him, so frustrated he wants to jump out of his skin. He does cry.
Once he’s cried off most of the frustration and feels sufficiently empty, Dongmin gets up. He needs to eat. He walks into the living room, and just as he does the front door opens and Bin comes in.
“Oh, Min, I’m glad you didn’t go to sleep yet,” says Bin. “For you.”
He reaches into the plastic bag he’s carrying in one hand and comes out with a full carton of orange juice.
Dongmin stares at it. “What?” is all that he can get out of his mouth.
“I got some for you,” says Bin. “You like this brand, right?”
“Where did you go?” asks Dongmin, bewildered. The corner store is run by an elderly couple, and they close at eight p.m. It’s almost midnight right now.
“Not far,” says Bin with a quick grin as he ruffles his hair, shaking droplets of rain out of it. “Sorry I’m late. I had to find an open convenience store.”
Dongmin tries to remember. There are no convenience stores on their street, or on the street over. He can’t think of any within walking distance. It’s still raining outside, maybe even harder than it was when Dongmin got home.
“Sorry for finishing the last one,” says Bin. “I shouldn’t have put the empty thing back in the fridge. That was inconsiderate and—”
His words are cut off as Dongmin as grabs him and pulls him into a hug.
“Thank you,” says Dongmin, hiding his face in Bin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for throwing the thing at you.”
Bin laughs, cute and bubbly. “It’s okay,” he says. “Do you want a glass?”
Dongmin nods.
Dongmin hesitates. Maybe that isn’t the best example. Bin did go out in the rain for nothing more than orange juice, just to make Dongmin happy, and that’s not the only thing he went out of his way to do for Dongmin’s sake. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that the next reason is 100% valid.
Reason #2: Bin Doesn’t Prioritize Dongmin
When Dongmin becomes vice president of the speech and debate society in his third year, he gets busier than ever. There’s classes like always, workload even heavier now. On top of it he has to schedule society meetings, be involved in the planning of events, participate in the competitions. It’s hectic and hard, but Dongmin loves it.
“You’re crazy,” groans Bin one day, watching Dongmin get ready at eight in the morning for a whole-day event.
Dongmin grins. “I like being busy,” he says.
“Not too busy to come here and kiss me, I hope,” says Bin, and Dongmin laughs but walks over anyway.
They’ve been dating for a while now. Dongmin’s not sure when they officially graduated from just roommates to something more. It happened so naturally, so easily. It was just meant to be.
So, yes, Dongmin is busy, but he also has a beautiful, loving boyfriend through it all. Bin attends the debate competitions Dongmin participates in. He picks Dongmin up from meetings sometimes, unprompted, occasionally with a coffee and a pastry ready. Bin’s kisses are Dongmin’s quickest recharge.
Bin doesn’t like Dongmin’s new packed schedule, and he doesn’t try to hide it. They have less time together now, with Dongmin always busy and Bin’s course load getting heavier too. Dongmin has to try to carve out opportunities for them to go out together now.
The society plans a dinner to celebrate a recent success at a regional competition. Dongmin is excited. Their win was a big deal, and he wants to attend, spend the night with his fellow members drinking in the results of their hard work. It’ll be a good way to forget about all his other obligations, at least for a night.
Of course, Dongmin wants Bin to go with him. He loves his boyfriend and he loves spending time with him. He wants Bin there while everyone celebrates.
“I don’t wanna go,” says Bin.
“Come on,” says Dongmin. “It’ll be fun.”
“I hope you have fun,” says Bin. “Without me.”
Dongmin frowns. He perches on the couch next to Bin and gives him his biggest shiny eyes.
“Don’t do that,” whines Bin, tilting his head back to look away. “You know I can’t refuse you when you do that.”
“I know, that’s why I’m doing it,” says Dongmin. He grabs Bin’s arm. “Come on, come with me.”
“You know I don’t like those parties,” says Bin.
“It’s not a party, it’s an event,” insists Dongmin.
“It’s totally a party,” says Bin. “And I don’t know anybody there except you.”
“I’ll introduce you,” says Dongmin.
“Baby, I really don’t wanna go,” says Bin, frowning. “You know I was busy all day yesterday finishing that paper. I’m tired.”
“And yet you stayed up late to game with Eunbi,” says Dongmin. He lets go of Bin’s arm and leans back.
“Yeah, because she’s my friend and I like playing games with her,” says Bin.
“And I’m your boyfriend and I want you to come with me to this event,” says Dongmin.
Bin groans and tips his head back. “Baby, please.”
“Okay, fine,” snaps Dongmin, getting to his feet. “Whatever makes you happy. You’re tired. Got it.”
“Don’t be mad at me,” says Bin.
“I’m not,” says Dongmin, mad. “I don’t mind at all.”
But even after that Bin won’t agree, and Dongmin gets ready for the event huffing with every movement. He leaves with a quick goodbye, barely throwing a glance at Bin who’s still on the couch.
The night is a disaster. It’s less a dinner and more an excuse for a bunch of university kids to get drunk. As vice-president and one of the few not drunk off their ass, Dongmin has to make sure everyone stays safe and doesn’t do anything too embarrassing. He spends most of the night herding intoxicated first years back to campus and buying hangover tonics to share among the members.
Dongmin is honestly glad Bin didn’t go. As much as he would’ve loved another helping hand and Bin’s bright smile to lift his mood, he doesn’t want his boyfriend suffering just for his sake. In the middle Bin texts and asks how the event is going, and Dongmin lies and says it’s going great and he’s having a great time, and he’ll probably be late. No point in making Bin worry after all.
So when Dongmin finally gets back to the apartment after an exhausting few hours out, he fully expects to find Bin knocked out in bed. He snapped at him over it, but he knows he meant it when he said he was tired, so Bin should be asleep.
He’s not asleep. He’s sitting on the couch in the living room, and when he sees Dongmin he gets up.
“You’re back,” he says. He stifles a yawn and stretches.
“What are you still doing up?” asks Dongmin.
“I was waiting for you,” says Bin.
“You didn’t have to,” says Dongmin. “It’s really late.”
“That’s exactly why I had to,” says Bin. He walks over and holds Dongmin’s hand, helping him take off his shoes. “I thought about going and getting you, but I didn’t know when you’d be done or if you wanted me there.” He puts one warm hand on Dongmin’s cheek and frowns. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you.”
Dongmin melts. “I’m sorry for pushing you to go with me,” he says. “I know you don’t like going to things like this.”
“I like going anywhere with you,” says Bin. “I’ll go next time, no matter what.”
“Don’t bother,” says Dongmin with a snort. “Tonight was hell.”
“What happened?” asks Bin.
Dongmin sees Bin’s droopy eyes and says, “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“No, I wanna hear it now,” says Bin. “Come on, we’ll cuddle up in bed and you can tell me everything I missed out on.”
So that’s what they do, Dongmin talking and Bin trying to stay awake through it, nodding and humming. Bin falls asleep seconds after Dongmin is done talking, and Dongmin has to stifle a laugh before he kisses him on the cheek.
Dongmin hits pause on that memory. Thinking about it again, it wasn’t that bad. He ended the night happy. Bin stayed up for him, and he did try to attend all the events he could after that, no matter how awkward or boring. The whole thing wasn’t Bin refusing to prioritize Dongmin as much as Dongmin trying to force Bin to do something he didn’t want to, before realizing he shouldn’t have.
But that doesn’t matter. Because that’s not the biggest and most important reason Bin and Dongmin broke up.
Reason #3: Bin Doesn’t Love Dongmin Back the Same
And this. This, Dongmin can’t forget. The closer they get to graduation the more distant Bin becomes. He doesn’t want to go out with Dongmin to the movies on their rare free nights anymore, he’s always too tired. He won’t have lunch with Dongmin, he doesn’t smile like he used to when he sees Dongmin waiting for him outside his classes. He won’t even sit beside Dongmin as he studies anymore.
“You can just nap next to me,” says Dongmin, trying to hide how much it means to him to have Bin there. “You don’t need to do or say anything. I promise I won’t read anything aloud.” He cracks a quick smile.
“A couple of guys from my physiology class wanted to hang out,” says Bin. “I think I’m gonna go meet up with them.”
“Sure,” says Dongmin, forcing a smile. “See you later.”
Except it seems Dongmin never sees Bin later. Because any time Dongmin wants to spend time with Bin he’s busy, and every reason he gives is different, until they stop sounding like reasons and just sound like excuses.
Even when they are together at home, whenever Dongmin starts talking he can almost see the energy drain out of Bin. He brings up his internship and Bin takes some opportunity to end the conversation. He talks about the debate society and Bin listens but he won’t respond beyond a few noncommittal words.
“Should I stick with the firm that I’m interning at?” asks Dongmin. “The other one that offered me a job pays better, and they promised they’d be flexible if I decided to go for my graduate degree. The atmosphere is so comfortable at the one I’m at now though.”
“It’s up to you,” says Bin.
He looks so uninterested, even though it’s such a big decision for Dongmin. “I would really appreciate your advice,” says Dongmin.
“How would I help? I don’t know anything about that stuff,” says Bin.
Sometimes it’s okay. Sometimes they go out and it’s fun, or they stay home and watch movies and cuddle, and everything’s perfect like it was before. Bin beams at Dongmin, and he’s so full of love.
But Dongmin can’t ignore the rest. And he can’t ignore the sinking feeling that Bin just doesn’t love him like he used to.
Dongmin has no doubts about his own feelings. He loves Bin and would do anything for him. But he can feel it’s not the same for Bin. Bin doesn’t return Dongmin’s feelings with the same intensity.
And now that Dongmin knows, he can’t forget it. He can’t just not know that Bin doesn’t care for him like he used, like how Dongmin cares for him even now.
It hurts him. It makes him angry. It makes him yell at Bin when he again tries to shut down Dongmin talking about what he wants to do. They argue a lot, more and more, until one day they get into their last argument.
And they just break up instead.
Dongmin doesn’t remember the break up well. He’s not sure who said the fateful words—let’s break up—or when exactly it happened. He remembers not being sad then, just angry. And then later feeling hurt, and miserable, and wronged. Because it had been so good at one moment, and they’d been so good together.
Bin’s birthday is in late January, about a month before the end of the academic year. They’re always in the middle of assignments and reports and exams. But no matter how busy it is, no matter what they have hanging over them, Dongmin and Bin always spend Bin’s birthday night together.
Dongmin’s birthday in March is when they have a party. For Bin’s birthday it’s just the two of them, no one else needed. The first birthday, they go out to eat and walk the streets, hand in hand. They eat hotdogs at the park, sitting on the grass and freezing under the night sky. It’s amazing.
This time they decide to spend it at home. Dongmin gets it into his head to cook, despite how busy he is, and spends the entire afternoon in the kitchen trying to make something worthy of Bin’s birthday dinner. The end product is edible, though not worth all the time Dongmin spent. He’s disappointed.
“No, baby, it’s great,” insists Bin. “I could eat it every day for the rest of the year.”
“You’d like anything I made,” says Dongmin.
Bin laughs, bright and bubbly. “Isn’t the whole point of cooking to impress me?” he asks. “Then you succeeded, good job. Now come here, I’m cold.”
He’s not—Bin is never cold—but Dongmin goes to him. They cuddle up together on the couch and watch an old movie on TV, and it should be boring and nothing special, but that’s what makes it special.
Afterwards they have Dongmin’s home-cooked meal as well as takeout from Bin’s favorite restaurant. Dongmin makes Bin hot chocolate.
“Thanks,” says Bin as he takes it, eyes curled and shining with warmth.
Dongmin just hums. He settles next to Bin with his own mug.
For some time they sit in bed in silence, comfortable. And then Bin says, “This is the best birthday ever.”
“Really?” Dongmin finds that hard to believe. “We did nothing.”
“Yeah, but we did that nothing together,” says Bin, smiling.
Dongmin is overwhelmed with a sudden wave of affection. He leans in and kisses Bin, long, sweet.
“Careful,” says Bin, grinning, when they part. “I almost spilled my hot chocolate.”
“If you spill even a drop I will make you buy me a new blanket,” says Dongmin.
“On my birthday?” Bin bats his eyelashes at him. “Don’t I get birthday privileges?”
“Birthday privileges end the moment you make me get out of this warm blanket,” says Dongmin. “I’m almost a lawyer, I will sue you.”
Bin laughs. He sways forward and the hot chocolate sloshes in his mug and spills out.
Dongmin squawks and jumps out of bed. Bin just keeps laughing, spilling even more as he struggles to climb out of bed. Dongmin tries to pull him out, but he can’t help it and dissolves into laughter too.
So how many reasons does Dongmin have now? And how many are telling him not to walk up to Bin?
It turns out it doesn’t matter. Because Dongmin gets up from behind the damn mailbox before he knows it and walks.
“Hey,” says Dongmin.
Bin looks up, and his eyes widen. “Dongmin?” he says.
“Yeah, it’s me,” says Dongmin, cracking a smile. “Mind if I sit?”
Bin shakes his head.
Dongmin sits. Bin looks dazed, like he can’t believe it’s Dongmin sitting there in front of him. Dongmin understands.
“So,” says Dongmin slowly, feeling like he should take the initiative since he did have time to create a plan of action even if he didn’t make one, “how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been okay,” says Bin. “You?”
“Same,” says Dongmin. “No birthday plans?”
Bin smiles wryly. “I’m surprised you remember,” he says.
Dongmin just shrugs. How could he forget?
“Nah, no plans tonight,” says Bin. “I don’t really do birthday night celebrations with anyone, not anymore.”
Dongmin tries not to look into the second meaning behind that. It’s been three years, he can’t just think about that—
“We used to have fun on my birthday, huh?” says Bin. Dongmin looks at him and sees his eyes are sparkling, just like they used to when he looked at Dongmin back then.
“Yeah,” says Dongmin, feeling slightly breathless. “Yeah, it was nice.”
“I hope you know I wasn’t just saying that back then for the sake of saying it,” says Bin. “Those really were the best birthdays of my life.”
Dongmin nods.
There’s a lull in the conversation. Bin looks as good as ever, maybe even better now. Dongmin can’t take his eyes off him.
“I’m sorry I ruined it,” he says before he can think twice.
Bin frowns. “You?”
“I should’ve talked to you about how I was feeling,” says Dongmin. “I was insecure and thought you didn’t care about me. Instead of asking you what was going on, I just let it build up inside me, and we ended up fighting all the time because of that.”
“That’s not your fault,” says Bin, shaking his head. “It was me. I pulled away instead of telling you how I felt.”
“What was going on then?” asks Dongmin.
Bin watches his finger as he runs it along the edge of his cup. “I was the one who was insecure,” he says finally. “You were doing so amazing, getting all these job offers and acing your courses and graduating with honors, and I was just… there. I felt like I was dragging you down. Like you deserved better.”
Dongmin frowns. “I never felt like I did.”
“Yeah, I got that now,” says Bin, raising his gaze to Dongmin and flashing a smile. “It was all in my head. But I never told you, and ended up breaking us up.”
Dongmin doesn’t know what to say to that. Silence falls over the two of them again.
“It was nice, though,” says Bin. He glances at Dongmin. “Us.”
“It was great,” says Dongmin earnestly.
“I hope you haven’t had a better boyfriend after me,” says Bin, half jokingly.
“I haven’t had a boyfriend after you,” says Dongmin, stupidly, because he is stupid.
Bin blinks at him. Dongmin regrets opening his mouth. This is why people say to never approach your exes. You end up saying stupid things like this.
The silence that falls is much less somber and much more embarrassing. Dongmin would get up with an excuse to leave, except he doesn’t know if he’ll ever run into Bin again after this and he doesn’t want to end this so soon.
“You know,” says Bin, carefully, “maybe it’s not that bad we broke up three years ago. We weren’t mature enough for our relationship, not back then.”
Dongmin does a double take. “Not back then?”
“Not back then,” repeats Bin.
This time there’s no avoiding the second meaning. Dongmin’s not sure that’s even the second meaning. It sounds like the first and only meaning.
Not back then, but maybe now.
Bin grins at Dongmin, bright and shining, just like he always did. “So, where’s my birthday present?” he asks, mischievous.
“I don’t have it,” says Dongmin.
And maybe because it’s Bin, it’s Bin who Dongmin knew for three years and loved for three years and lived with and was so comfortable with, Dongmin adds, “I’ll bring it along the next time we meet.”
“Yeah?” says Bin, eyes lighting up.
“Yeah,” says Dongmin, and he smiles. “Happy birthday, Binnie.”
Bin smiles as bright as a star.