Archive of Our Own

“Remind me again: which wedding is this one?” you ask, head resting in your palm as you sit at your best friend’s kitchen table at 10:30am in your emerald green (and slightly stained) cocktail dress. 

Seungcheol glances at you in the reflection of the mirror in front of him, hands halting briefly in the process of tying his bright blue tie. “You didn't bother to look at the invitation this morning?” His expression straddles the line between bemusement and annoyance. An expression you’ve come to know quite well over your many years of friendship. 

“No,” you shrug, taking a small sip from your iced caramel macchiato. He audibly sighs. A performance of his annoyance with you–another thing you’ve gotten used to. “ You know where we’re going, and since I’m going with you , I just have to show up and look pretty.” you wink at him as he levels you with a slight glare and furrowed brows. “Don’t look at me like that, we have like…six weddings to go to this summer.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes at the exaggeration before turning his attention back to the strip of fabric hanging around his neck. 

You watch as his hands weave the tie together, his brows knit together in concentration. It was a scene you were destined to repeat time and time again this summer. For years weddings and marriages had been a distant thought on the horizon of your lives but as with all things in time, you grew to an age where friends, coworkers, relatives, and distant acquaintances had finally begun sending out those delicately calligraphed save the dates and floral adorned invitations.

The blessing and curse of having such a tight knit friend group meant you had all been invited to nearly every single one of these events; simultaneously giving you people to attend with as well as no easy way out of any of them. 

So here you find yourself, on a balmy late June morning, in Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s shared kitchen, watching your friend fuss over his appearance and praying that the reception doesn't last past midnight so you can have time to watch at least one episode of Law & Order before you pass out on your couch. 

As if on cue, the aforementioned housemate strolls into the kitchen. Beelining for the pot of coffee on the counter. 

“Morning,” you greet him over your own drink and he turns around to face you with his eyebrows raised. 

“You can leave the house before 7:00pm? Amazing, I thought you melted in the sunlight,” Jeonghan teases, a sly grin spread over his fox face and you bristle at the comment. 

“Shut the fuck up Jeonghan, I’m not a vampire.”

“Could have fooled me,” he replies, dropping a single sugar cube into the dark black of his coffee, “this is the first time I’ve seen you in daylight in years.” 

“We literally went out for brunch two months ago.” 

“My point exactly.” You heave an exasperated sigh and glance over at Seungcheol, eyes narrowed, as if to ask ‘can you help me with this bitch?’ He just shrugs and shakes his head with a grin.

Instead of sparking an unwinnable argument with a friend who never learned how to quit, you shift topics, “Seulgi is meeting us there, right? Where’s Soonyoung?” 

“Late,” Jeonghan answers, gratefully taking the bait and dropping the banter, “as usual.” 

“What time does the ceremony start?” 

“12:30, I think,” Seungcheol replies, glancing at his watch as he does so.

And at that–as if dialled into peak comedic timing–Soonyoung barrels through the front door; loudly tripping over the pile of shoes strewn haphazardly in the entrance, and careens into the kitchen entirely out of breath.

“Hey, sorry my alarm didn’t go off and I think my dishwasher might be on the fritz again cause there was water all over my kitchen floor and–” He’s stopped in his tracks–both literally and verbally–by Jeonghan thrusting a mug of coffee into his hands, “thanks.” 

Soonyoung’s current hair–bright yellow, apparently–stands up on end, mussed still from sleep and what was no doubt a frantic four-block sprint here. His suit is mostly intact, though the tie is nowhere to be seen, and his black loafers are slightly scuffed at the tip. It would be a tragic sight if he weren’t so absolutely endearing about it all. 

“So–” After a brief pause to take a breath and a sip from the mug while settling into the chair next to you, he picks up his monologue as if it had never been interrupted in the first place. “I had to mop up all of this old dishwater with like…my best t-shirt because it was the only thing I could find and thankfully it did get most of it up but I think Jihoon is going to murder me when he gets back to the apartment later,” he continues rambling as the rest of you share one long, knowing look. Seungcheol rolls his eyes–affectionately exhausted–and smoothes his finally tied tie down before heading down the hallway towards his bedroom. 

“Soonyoung,” you turn towards your bedraggled friend, interrupting his raving. He glances at you curiously and you have to resist a laugh at the sheer innocence of the expression, “when did you dye your hair yellow?”

“Oh,” he giggles, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “Yesterday actually…do you like it?” there is a hopeful glint shining in his wide eyes and it prevents any potential criticism from leaving your lips. 

Unfortunately, it does nothing to deter Jeonghan. “You look like a tennis ball,” he says, striding over to run a hand through Soonyoung’s mop of hair, “and it’s a mess. What did you do, trim it with a weedwacker?” 

“No,” he laughs again–more nervously this time. Like a frightened hedgehog. “I just didn’t have time to style it this morning. You know, I think my dishwasher is really busted…”

“We can fix it, it’s fine,” you sigh, glancing up at Jeonghan who just stares down at you like the entire situation is beyond hope before setting down his coffee and disappearing into the bathroom. “Nothing to be done about the colour, though.” 

“I thought it was sort of cool,” he says, dragging out the words like a kid dragging their feet at a playground. “Sort of punk, you know? Like Sid Vicious.” 

“I mean…it’s not the worst I've ever seen on you,” you offer, an image of him with a blue and green polka dot buzzcut springing to mind, and he beams at the backhanded compliment. Jeonghan returns, handing you a tube of styling gel, and you get to work trying to tame Soonyoung’s mane. 

It was how most mornings–afternoons, evenings, nights–were spent between the four of you (five, when Seulgi was around). Helping each other as much as you hindered and teased. Being in the same ameobus friend group since the early days of college will do that. The familiarity is almost too potent at times. You knew the ins and outs of each other. Every weakness, every strength, and every potential. 

You know Soonyoung’s impulsive nature is born out of a nervous energy he could never seem to shake. A desire to change something about himself but never being able to fully realise what that thing is; so it just results in making an absolute disaster of his once healthy hair (not to mention many, many apartment bathrooms). 

You know that despite Jeonghan’s constant teasing and poking, he cares deeply. That all of that mirth and humour was there simply to mask just how deeply those feelings of affection run. A river of love barely contained by a dam of wit and humour.

You know that Seulgi’s constant desire to keep herself busy and occupied comes from a similar sort of restlessness that resides in Soonyoung. She had to stay busy to stay sane. Thankfully for all of you, her business was more productive and lucrative and slightly less…colourful. Even if it did pull her away from the group more often than you would like.

And you know Seungcheol, you think, as he enters the room once more–spare tie clutched in his hand. You know the slope of his cheek, the curve of his lips, the absolute glee that lights up his face any time there is a karaoke machine present. You know good time party Cheol, and you know serious, responsible Cheol. So many facets of one man unfolded before you over your time as friends, and still you feel like there is something more hiding just beyond your reach. Something you hadn’t been able to put your finger on since the inception of your friendship. 

The thought, one that comes to you more often than you would like to admit, slips free as Soonyoung squirms beneath your fingers and you remember where you are. “I think it’s good,” he says, and you glance down to see your unconscious handy work. 

“Well,” you take a half-step back, cocking your head to the side and evaluating his appearance–slightly less like a dishevelled hedgehog, “it’s better.” 

“Think it’ll attract some romantic interest?” he asks, turning around to face you and wiggling his eyes in that lurid way that you affectionately despise. 

“We can only hope and pray that it doesn’t.” Soonyoung purses his lips together in a mock pout as you take your seat next to him again, shaking your head in horror at the thought of who might possibly see him illuminating the dancefloor like a neon tennis ball and go ‘yeah, that’s the guy’ . 

“Well, what about you?” he asks after a pause, shaking off the previous insult with his usual gusto.

“What about me?” 

“Looking to meet anyone at the wedding?” 

You scoff, shaking your head with derision, “absolutely not. The only people you ever meet at weddings are creeps or someone’s uncle.” 

“I heard Johnny’s going to be there,” Jeonghan winks at you from the other side of the kitchen and you have to suppress a groan at the mention of the name. A groan suppressed by you, but immediately and very loudly vocalised by Seungcheol. 

“Not that fucking guy.” His brows furrow together and you remember just how much barely contained disdain he has held for Johnny since you were seeing him for a brief (very, very brief) spell during the early days of university. “Who even invited him?”

Jeonghan slips into the seat opposite you, face lit up by the prospect of gossip, “he’s the groom’s third cousin. I heard there was some drama between him and several of the bridesmaids, though…”

“Unsurprising,” you state, tone dry. 

“I also heard he was asking around about whether or not you were invited,” Jeonghan adds and you stiffen.

Johnny’s smug face swims up in your mind’s eye–twisted and warped by years of negative emotions surrounding your entire history together and you drop your head to the table with a dramatic groan. “Is it too late to RSVP with a no?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jeonghan sighs sympathetically.

“Just tell him you’re not interested,” Soonyoung offers and you snort at the suggestion. Almost amusing if it weren’t so frustrating. 

“If only it were that simple. He’s not one of those guys that really takes no for an answer, he’s–”

“He’s a fucking dick,” Cheol grumbles, features pulled taut and firm. An unwavering, piercing gaze fixed on a spot on the wall above your head. The disdain, it seems, has not wavered one iota over the past five years. 

“Basically,” you nod. 

“So then…what can we do?” Soonyoung asks, clearly at a loss. 

You shrug, all sense of hope you had for the evening to be peaceful–perhaps even fun –sinking further down the drain pipes of your own misery. The problem of ‘Johnny’ has been one that haunted you ever since you managed to finally unentangle yourself from his tornado of frat boy rampages. An entanglement that would probably have been impossible if Seungcheol didn’t threaten him with his life if he didn’t leave you alone. 

Seungcheol.  

A flash in the dark, a light in the cave. The idea sparks in your mind like a lightbulb flaring to life and you sit bolt upright, turning fully towards the man himself as he stands pensive with his arms crossed, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“I have an idea,” you exclaim, almost manic with the glee that fills your chest. The other three stare at you, eyes questioning, as you grin to yourself. Drunk on conspiracy. 

“Cheol, be my boyfriend.” 

“What?” If he hadn’t already been leaning against the counter you’re sure he would have fallen over. His eyes go wide, skin reddening at the edges. 

“Not for real ,” you explain and his body tenses. “Just for tonight.” 

“ How is that a solution?” 

“ Because ,” you begin, stretching the word out like a deck of tarot cards–trying to make him see the vision. “Johnny is terrified of you and while he refuses to take a no from me , he’ll leave me alone when he sees us together as more than just friends .” 

At the word ‘together’ Seungcheol’s shoulders stiffen even further–like the word is a rod in his back. He crosses his arms over his chest, stretching the fabric of his suit to its limits. When did he get so…broad? The thought comes unbidden and you brush it aside like a gnat. 

“Why not Jeonghan?” he asks, grasping at straws.

You twist your head slightly to give your friend a once over, grimacing as he shoots you a sly wink in return, “no one would ever believe we’re dating.” 

“You’re right,” Jeonghan nods solemnly as he takes a long sip from his coffee, “I’m way out of your league.” 

“I’ll do it,” Soonyoung pipes in, offering his services as he sits spinning a ring around his index finger. 

“Absolutely not,” you reply without a single thought, watching his expression fall into dismay at the immediacy of the response. 

“What? Why not?” 

“Because you're a human disaster,” you reply, gesturing to the slowly blooming coffee stain now marring the front of his recently dry-cleaned suit. “Besides,” you continue, “didn't you just announce your ‘hot girl summer’ on Twitter?” 

“Hot grrr summer,” he corrects, “grrr, like a tiger.” 

“Regardless, wasn’t hooking up with people at weddings on your to-do list? How can you do that if you’re fake dating me?” 

“Good point,” he concedes with a resigned head tilt and you turn your attention back to Seungcheol. 

His eyes are focused on you, expression intense but unreadable. You find yourself wavering ever so slightly under the pressure of it, heart fluttering in light wings of anxiety in your chest. “I would ask Seulgi,” you speak, voice low and slow. Aware that you’re treading on thin ice now. “But I think the threesome propositions would be worse than just fending off the flirting by myself,” you sigh for emphasis, hoping it might crack his facade. 

The entire room takes a silent breath. You can feel Jeonghan waiting on tenterhooks beside you, eager as always to see what unfolds–a voyeur of disaster. Soonyoung continues playing with the rings adorning his fingers, but his eyes are cast in a curious gaze over the proceedings. You avoid glancing at either of them–afraid that doing so might lose you whatever ground you’ve managed to make with Seungcheol in this standoff. You hold his gaze as steadily as you can manage. 

“It has to be you, Cheol. Please,” you pout–dropping all pretence and finally resorting to just begging, “you’re my only hope.” 

His frown deepens, creasing the corners of his mouth. He looks at you, attention fixed on your face as he considers the situation. You know he’s going to cave, from across the room you can see his deep brown eyes softening as a result of your pleading. He has never been able to say no to you and you were sure this time wasn’t going to be any different–despite the butterflies raving in your stomach. Sometimes you worried you were taking advantage of him, but usually he seems so happy to help out. 

He sighs–chest rising and falling with the strength of it–all his worries settling into the air between you and you hold your breath for the verdict.  

“Fine,” he finally breaks, and you let out a small triumphant yell as he sits down in the seat across from you. “But I want to establish some ground rules.” 

“Okay fair,” you nod, holding back the grin threatening to break across your face. 

“No touching anymore than we already do,” he points a firm finger at the tabletop, emphasising the point and you stifle a small laugh at the seriousness of the gesture. “I don't want to make anything awkward once this is over.” 

“I can't imagine that happening anyway, but fine,” you dismiss the concern with a wave of your hand in spite of his ever–deepening frown. “We need a backstory though.” 

“We have one,” he raises an eyebrow and stares at you in slight irritation like a grumpy dog. “We’ve been friends for a decade.” 

“Yes, but how did we get from friends to lovers ,” you draw out the words, losing yourself in the fantasy and missing the slight tinge of pink that begins to colour the tips of his ears, “everyone is going to want to know.” 

“Will they?” 

“Of course, people love a friends to lovers clich é ,” you nod, crafting the narrative in your mind as you speak it aloud. Jeonghan watches from over the top of his coffee mug, openly amused, as you spin the tale of your whirlwind romance. “It was freshman year of college when you first realised you were hopelessly in love with me and had been for years–”

“Wait, why am I the one in love with you ?”

“It has to be you, Cheol, we need an unrequited love. It’s what builds the drama, keep up,” you explain, exasperated at his unwillingness to play along. 

“Well, why couldn't your love be the unrequited one?” He asks, bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. 

“It’s just not realistic,” you shake your head, ignoring the way his brows knit together in response to the statement. “No, you’ve been in love with me for years, but because of some twisted sense of responsibility towards the friend group, and a hesitancy to disrupt the status quo, you've never said anything before. Not until last summer after a party when you were going to go home and sadly jack off to some old porn and I was gonna go hook up with some hot stud for a wild night–”

“ Okay , we get it,” Seungcheol scolds from across the table but you continue without hesitation. Bulldozing through his pouting and continuing on with your monologue as if your audience were rapt attendees at the opening night of your play instead of your three best friends ranging in mood from pointed irritation to casual amusement. 

“–and you watch as I’m walking away with him but you can’t stand it, so finally you throw away all thoughts of friendship and history and propriety and you run after me and confess.” You pause a moment, fixing your gaze back on Seungcheol–meeting his tired eyes with your own wide ones and pausing a moment for dramatic effect before capping off the backstory with a flourish, “it was all very dramatic and now we are truly, madly, deeply in love.” 

“I see,” he nods, expression carefully curated to display only slightly restrained irritation–a dam holding back a flood as it threatens through the concrete of his resolve. 

“So,” you conclude, leaning back in your seat, “what do you think? Sound like a solid backstory?”

“I think it’s over the top and it’s a stupid idea,” he levels.

“Cheol,” you begin to plead, but he shakes his head. A firm no. Seungcheol has been many things, in all the years you have known him, and firm was one of the more consistent ones. A trait he has leaned into as he grew older and had to shoulder more and more responsibility as his friends remained just as lackadaisical and carefree as they had been in college. A contrast to the plush, teddy bear softness you knew also dwelled within him.

“It’s a stupid idea and its going to do nothing except cause all of us,” he waves a hand around the room to indicate who he means by ‘us’, “ especially me a massive fucking headache.” You implore him silently, eyes wide and brimming with emotion, praying he chooses to follow through on the (admittedly loose) agreement made moments before and not back out. The thought of having to face your past demons (er, demon) alone was a stone in the pit of your stomach. He heaves a final, heavy sigh, running a hand through his ink black hair, and leans over the table towards you. 

“But,” he begins again, and you can hardly breathe against the force of hope in your lungs, “for you, just this once , I will do it.” 

A triumphant grin breaks out over your face and you scramble out of your chair to wrap him in a tight hug–arms encircling his head and pulling it tight to your chest in the world's most awkward embrace. He struggles for a minute before finally accepting it and letting you rock his head side to side. 

“You’re the best,” you exclaim, planting a loud kiss to the top of his head before releasing him as he swats you away.

Jeonghan sits cackling to himself in his seat, watching with blatant morbid delight at the entire scene. Seungcheol levels him with a glare after fixing the mess of his hair, “what?” 

“I’m just excited to see how badly this ends.”  

“You’re such a pessimist,” you scold, sitting back down in your seat and finishing off the last remnants of your coffee. “What could possibly go wrong?”

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Wedding #1. 

A venue of soft lighting and softer fabrics. Light pink chiffon draped over cheap plastic chairs to convey a dream-like scene on a budget. Your skirt keeps getting caught on the twigs and brambles poking out of the large floral arrangements dotting the aisles of the church. The ceremony is long and tedious, as they usually are, but the bride glows in her champagne coloured gown, and you feel a twinge of jealousy spark in your chest as the happy couple makes their way back down the aisle to the sounds of applause and congratulations. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you guys were together,” the bride–Saerom, a closer friend of Seungcheol than yours–exclaims as you offer your congratulations to the couple in the greeting line after the ceremony. 

“Yeah, surprise,” Seungcheol says as he stands next to you, arm linked around yours, and you have to resist the urge to jab him in the side with your elbow. 

Instead you fix a saccharine smile to your face and meet her eye-to-eye, “yes, we’re coming up on a year now!”

She smiles back–room for nothing but love in her eyes, not now that she’s a newlywed–and congratulates you both with a quick hug. “Well you’ve kept it incredibly secret! But I guess privacy can be exciting sometimes,” she laughs, “honestly, we were all sort of wondering when you two might get together. Seungcheol has definitely talked about you enough.” 

You feel him tense but you remain steadfast and beaming–happy that the ruse is working so well and incredibly grateful you did not end up choosing Soonyoung for the role as he loudly stumbles his way through the greeting line behind you. “We are very happy,” you grin, leaning up to press a quick kiss to Seungcheol’s cheek to seal the deal. “Congratulations again,” you beam as Seungcheol’s face takes on a hue similar to a fresh roma tomato, “it was a beautiful ceremony.” 

As soon as the platitude is delivered and you’re safely out of earshot, Seungcheol makes a firm beeline towards the reception hall across the street–tugging you along beside him as your arm remains looped through his. 

“What’s the big rush,” you ask as you stumble to a stop in front of the hall entrance, tearing away from his grip and readjusting the hem of your dress. “Trying to beat the line for the cash bar or something?” 

“What did we agree on earlier?” he grills, staring down at you with darkened eyes–his face still holds onto a bit of the earlier redness although you can’t tell if it’s due to embarrassment, anger, or effort. 

“What do you mean?” you furrow your brows, trying to remember what exactly it was you did agree on earlier before it hits you. “Oh, the kiss?” He nods once, firm and decisive, and you laugh, slapping him lightly on the shoulder as you do so, “Cheol, I literally gave you a kiss this morning , too. It is not out of the ordinary.” 

He crosses his arms, displeasure evident on his face as you turn to lead him inside the hall to escape the midday sun and continue the argument in an air conditioned building. “I would call that more of an attack than a kiss, personally.” 

“Okay, well I promise not to attack you again. Now what do you want to drink, I’m going to go talk to the bartender for a minute.” 

“Just get me a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Okay, grumpy, as you wish.” You smile as he frowns at you–a common theme of the day–before heading towards the mostly empty bar. Eager to grab your first drink of the night before the entire congregation shuffles into the hall and makes it nearly impossible to get the bartender's attention.

You manage a few feet towards your goal before a pair of hands settle on your shoulders. “Wait,” Seungcheol mumbles behind you, fingers dragging lightly against you as his hands graze over your exposed skin. A wave of chills rolls down your spine at the nearness of him and you have to resist shivering under his touch. 

“Wha–” you start to turn on your heel but he stops you–firm hands pressing against the back of your arms to keep you in place. 

“Just wait a second,” he doesn’t elaborate, so you just focus on the feeling of his hands as they migrate to the base of your neck. A featherlight touch against the sensitive area. You can almost feel the expression of concentration as it settles on his face–one you’ve seen so many times before. His fingers grasp onto the neckline of your dress, adjusting something sight-unseen and as soon as it begins, it’s over and his hand falls away. 

You feel him take a half-step back and a cool rush of air comes in to replace his warmth in the space behind you. You spin around to face him with an eyebrow raised in silent questioning. What was that all about? 

“Your tag was showing,” he shrugs, eyes averted as if some sense of embarrassment is forcing his gaze away from you.  

“Oh,” you reply, open-mouthed and staring, “thanks.” 

“Anytime.” 

.

.

.

You watch the bartender’s hands move as he pours liquid into shot glasses into shakers into rock glasses; watch as he dips in and out of ice and uncaps bottles. It’s like a dance, almost, how fluidly he moves and you feel somewhat mesmerised. So much so that you hardly notice as someone siddles up next to you at the bar, staring at your transfixed profile with open amusement on their face. 

“Hey,” the person calls out and you startle, hand flying up to your chest to quell the thrum of surprise that jolts through your chest.

“Jesus!” you exclaim and he laughs. A familiar laugh, one you were simultaneously dreading and avoiding ever since Jeonghan mentioned he was going to be here. You curse yourself for letting your guard slip and wonder where Seungcheol is right now. 

“Sorry,” Johnny laughs by way of apology, “didn’t realise you were so jumpy.” 

“I didn’t realise you were in the habit of sneaking up on people,” you reply in kind, a scolding edge to the tone of your voice which he pointedly ignores. He waves the bartender over and orders an old fashioned before turning his attention back to you. 

“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere,” he says, voice smooth as butter. Silk cloth draped over the cage of a snake, “you were just too lost in your thoughts to notice me.”

“Pity,” you mumble, plucking up Cheol’s whiskey and your own cocktail from the counter as the bartender sets them down in front of you.

You stand to leave, nodding out of courtesy, but he stops you before you can manage a step, “where are you going? I was hoping we could catch up a bit.” His smile is broad, a little lopsided and you are reminded of why you started seeing him in the first place. He was charming, in his own way. Even if it only extended to first impressions and shallow conversations. 

“I have to get back to my friends,” you reply, nodding towards the table in the corner where they all sat. Seulgi made her appearance about 10 minutes before the ceremony began and is now sitting in her floral pantsuit arguing intensely with Jeonghan as Seungcheol watches you from his seat next to them, eyes trained on Johnny’s lithe figure. Soonyoung is nowhere to be seen, but you can hear his laugh from the opposite side of the room.

Johnny chuckles to himself, “the same old group, hey? Never let anyone say you’re not loyal.” 

“They never have.” 

“How are they all? How are you? It’s been a few years since we saw each other.” 

‘Not long enough,’ you think and from the curious expression on his face you realise it was more of an outside thought. You clear your throat and cover it up with a smile, “they’re good. We’re all good. I’m dating Seungcheol now.” 

His mouth drops a little in awe and you feel a small rush of victory at the shock in his eyes. It lasts a moment before he collects his expression back to an even neutral and smiles, “that’s nice. I was always sort of wondering when that would happen.”

It’s your turn to be shocked and he laughs a bit as you stand indignant before him, a drink clutched in each fist. “What do you mean ‘when’ ?” 

“You guys were basically attached at the hip,” he explains and you scoff. 

“Cause we’re friends , we just–” you pause before you can say anything further. The looming threat of destroying your own cover is present in the front of your mind. It had helped so far in diverting any unwanted attention from him, though the longer you stood there with him the more you were beginning to worry that maybe it wasn’t even that much of a concern in the first place. 

“I’m just saying you guys make a good couple,” he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. 

It eases the knot of tension in your shoulders and you relax slightly, “thank you.”

“It’s too bad, though,” he stands up, swiping his drink from the bartop and angling towards you, “I was hoping we could maybe pick up where we left off. I remember how fun you were when you weren’t so uptight.” The knot of tension returns, raising your hackles in defense, as he winks at you before striding back off towards his own table. 

You stand stock-still, open mouthed and seething, yes burning a hole into the space in front of you formerly occupied by Johnny. The annoyance overwhelms you for a moment, colouring your vision red, before you inhale–calming your rising heart rate–and spin around on your heels to head back to your table. 

Or, you would have headed back if immediately upon turning around you didn’t smack full on into a firm torso–sending the liquid from the glasses in your hands flying out and splashing down to the parquet floor. 

“I’m so sorry,” the man you crashed into apologises, hands on either side of your shoulders in an attempt to stabilise you and further prevent any disaster. You might be annoyed if you weren’t still frozen with surprise. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, worry clear in his voice. The question pulls you out from your stasis and you finally manage to glance up from the pooling whiskey on the floor. All thoughts of Johnny and your previous sour mood vanish as you do. 

‘Holy shit,’ you think–though when he colours slightly pink a second after you realise that you really do need to learn to stop vocalising every thought that crosses your mind. “Yes, fine. Sorry,” you laugh, taking a shaky step back so you’re not chest-to-chest with him any longer, “I should have watched where I was going.” 

He’s cute. Tall, conventionally attractive, and smiling like a nervous preschooler on his first day in class. It’s endearing and you feel yourself losing any sense of reality as he stands blushing in front of you. 

“No, no, it’s my bad,” he dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand and a soft giggle, “my friends say I’m the clumsiest person alive so you’re not the first person I’ve run into like this.” 

“Oh? Well–” 

“You might be one of the cutest ones, though,” he winks and you feel a pit open up in your stomach. Oh . “Can I buy you some replacement drinks?” 

You glance down at your hands, each one still clutching an empty glass. You glance back up at him, still smiling in anticipation of a reply. You feel yourself on the precipice of something. One of those minor decisions that turns out to shake the foundations of your life. You’re standing there, on the edge of a cliff holding two empty glasses and you smile. Nodding. “Sure, that would be nice.” 

Everything about him is easy. Easy to talk to, easy to flirt with, easy to look at. You marvel at how simple it is to slip into friendly conversation with him–to discuss the wedding, your lives, your plans for the next day. It’s not often you meet someone where an almost instant connection is established. The last time you can remember that happening was–

“Seungcheol?” Mingyu asks and you nod.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since university. Do you know him?” 

“No, the name doesn’t sound familiar,” he says, glancing down at the bartop. There’s a pause for a moment and you take a sip of your drink, waiting for him to vocalise whatever thought he’s forming. “Is he your…boyfriend?” 

“Cheol?” you almost laugh, but remember the ruse you’re meant to be maintaining–the foundations already laid. “It’s complicated.” 

“Oh? I don’t mind listening, if you want to talk about it,” he offers and you think you might really jump off the cliff at any moment now. 

“There isn't much to tell, really,” you shrug, trying to play it off as casually as possible. “I don’t think we’re really going to last too long.” 

“You seem strangely okay with that,” he laughs. 

You join in, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the situation as you laugh along with him. “The writing has been on the wall for a while,” you say, “it’s time.” 

“Well,” he exhales, puffing out his cheeks as he does. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was sort of hoping we might…” he trails off, shaking his head as if to clear the thought away entirely. Erase it from the air it was spoken into. “It was nice to meet you.” 

“You too,” you nod, shooting him a sideways grin despite the rising disappointment at the turn of events. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” Mingyu takes a step back from the bar and you spin in your seat, watching him. 

“I would bet on it,” you reply and he grins. One final, lopsided grin spreading over his face. A spark of hope lights up in the space between and you set your teeth in determination as you take both replacement drinks from the bar and stand up to head back to your own friends.

.

.

.

“Cheol,” you sing as you approach the table and he’s immediately on edge. You watch his mouth tighten into a line as he watches you sink into the seat next to him, eyes combing your expression for any hint as to what is coming.

“What?” 

You smile, hoping it conveys a message of ‘everything is normal and fine’ and not ‘I’m here to ruin your night’. From the look in his eyes you don’t think it’s successful; nevertheless you press on. “Cheol, I need you to do me a favour.” 

“Another one?” 

“A final one,” you emphasise, hand on your chest in a mock-oath, “promise.”

“What is it?” 

“I need you to break up with me.”

Jeonghan snorts across the table–exactly the sort of downfall he was anticipating, surely something he’s going to make fun of you for the next five years. You ignore him and keep your eyes fixed on Seungcheol as he narrows his gaze at you, clearly annoyed but there is a shimmer of concern underneath it all–as there usually is. 

“Why?” he asks, “this was your idea, remember?”

“I know it was but…” you hesitate, briefly considering conjuring up some elaborate lie to get out of it with minimal embarrassment and pain but you meet Cheol’s earnestly confused eyes and you can’t bring yourself to tell him anything except the truth, “so there’s this guy…”

“Oh my god ,” he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“He’s so hot , Cheol.”

“He better be hot for all of this,” he says, lifting his head back up and running a tense hand through his hair, “if you want to hook up with him just go and do it, why do I need to be dragged into this?” 

You recoil in horror at the suggestion, staring at him like the answer is so obvious it pains you that he doesn’t see it. “Everyone thinks we’re dating–”

“Yes, because you asked me to do it,” he interrupts but you hold up a hand to stop the protests with a heavy sigh. 

“Yes, I asked you to do this and I’m asking you now to help me end it so I can get laid without everyone thinking I’m two-timing you.” 

He groans again, tossing his head back in a gesture so dramatic you would be concerned if you didn’t know him so well. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, “fine. Tell everyone we broke up, it’s fine. Just let me drink my whiskey in peace.” 

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “we made a show of dating now we have to do the same for the break up or no one will believe it.” 

Seungcheol stares at you–aghast–before turning to Jeonghan in an attempt to solicit some (any) help, but Jeonghan just sits sipping his wine with the widest grin possible stretched across his sly face. Exactly the outcome he was hoping for. 

“Nothing to say?” he asks, still hoping for a lifeboat to climb onto to escape your plot, but Jeonghan just shakes his head–still smiling that same fox-like grin. Cheol sighs and glances around at the people gathered in the hall, one last ditch attempt at dissuading you. Soonyoung is absolutely useless as he lights up a corner of the dance floor–hair more of a mess than it had been when he showed up in the morning–feet flying as he engages someone’s kid in a dance battle. 

With a final exasperated sigh Seungcheol pushes himself out of his chair. “Fine,” he grumbles, and you grin as he drains the last of his whiskey in one go before stalking towards the bridal table. 

The entire thing is so easy, really, you don’t know why he protested so much. Some tense whispering to each other–just loud enough to be overheard and eavesdropped on, but not loud enough to really need to flesh out the reasons for the break up. You were lucky the entire wedding party consisted of gossip hounds, out of the corner of your eye while lowly hissing to Cheol about how you were planning on getting home later if all went well with Mingyu, you could see them craning their necks to try and hear. 

One head shake and final strained sentence later, and Seungcheol stalks back towards the bar–eager for another drink–while you rush towards the bathrooms at the other side of the hall; making sure to pass by Mingyu’s table along the way. 

Your heart races in a mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction as you round the corner out of the main hall, but you can’t help but take one last glance back towards Cheol. He’s leaning against the bar, tie loosened and hair tousled–his mouth is pulled taut and if you didn’t know he was acting you would be convinced that he was genuinely upset. 

You blink him away as you turn down back the hallway, but the image of him standing forlornly at the bar lingers in the forefront of your mind until you hear your name called out from behind you. 

“Everything okay?” Mingyu stands in the empty space between you and the main hall. 

You inhale, mustering up the most melancholic tone possible and fixing your face into one veiled by a sort of seductive sadness. One that says ‘please make me feel better’, “looks like I’m available now.” 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he offers with an apologetic smile. Not entirely sure how to react. You have to tread carefully here. Not appear too overbearing to drive him off; project a pathetic enough facade to entice him in. 

“It’s fine,” you say, “I just don’t think I should be alone right now, maybe…” you let the statement hang in the air between you–silently praying he takes the bait as he shoots a brief glance behind him. 

“I have time. Do you want to go somewhere to talk?”

You pretend to hesitate for a moment, crossing your arms tight over your chest just enough to emphasise your cleavage while still looking contemplative. Just a moment, letting the question hang in the air, before you smile and nod–turning back towards the coat check room at the end of the hallway. 

Bingo .

Twenty minutes later you’re pressed up against a wall of jackets with Mingyu’s face in your neck.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, his breath hot on the skin of your neck and you nod frantically, begging for him to shut up and keep going. 

“Yes, yes. Fine, it’s good.”

Despite your assurances he pulls away, meeting your needy gaze with his own, “I don't want to be something you regret in the morning because you were drunk and upset.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m fine with it.” You try to connect your lips back to his, pulling his face close, but he resists and you sigh. Letting him air his hesitations while his thigh is still propped up between your legs–pinning you to the wall. 

“No, I don't want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you while you're vulnerable.” 

A sweet sentiment, but right now you’re well beyond sweetness. You want to be ravaged–something akin to a bodice-ripper that you would read bored in an airport. Heated kisses in a coat check room, a sloppy hook-up that’s both messy and satisfying. 

You try once more. “I am asking you to please take advantage of me. I allow it. Permission granted.” 

His leg slips out from below you, arms moving to your shoulders in more of a comforting gesture and less of a lustful one. “I like you,” he says, a small smile of apology on his face, “I don’t want to ruin it by being too eager when you’re in a bad place. I think you need to process.” 

‘But it’s not real!’ you want to tell him. You want to scream it at him; to knock some sense into his stupidly handsome head. Instead you just let him talk (sweet, very sweet) and watch as your potential hook up drifts away from you into the ether. 

“Maybe we’ll see each other again, soon,” he says, voice hopeful. You nod, unable to really muster anything else as you pull your dress back down over your thighs–adjusting the straps so they cover your shoulders once more. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you wish he would stop saying things as you and him slip out of the coat check room and head back towards the reception as it rages in full swing. 

You wave goodbye to Mingyu, trying to keep the frown from etching too deeply into your face, before turning around to seek out your friends amongst the fray. 

Jeonghan’s blonde head makes itself visible as you glance around the room; you weave your way over to the table and plop yourself down with a huff into the seat next to him. 

“Back so soon?” he asks, surprised at the sudden return, “what happened to that himbo guy? Not a good lay?” 

“No, nothing happened at all,” you sigh, reaching forward to grab Soonyoung’s cocktail and tipping it back, draining the glass despite his immediate protest at the blatant theft. 

“Why not?” 

“He said he didn’t want me to do anything I might regret,” you choke out a strangled laugh, “you know, because I was just broken up with.” 

Jeonghan lets out a loud laugh, head thrown back in glee as you stew in bitterness next to him. It takes him a minute to collect himself before he can respond, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye. “What a gentleman,” he laughs. “This is what you get for playing with feelings. At least that Mingyu guy is looking out for someone.” 

“I wasn’t playing with anything,” you whine. You glance around the table to find Seungcheol to corroborate this, but the only sights that greets you is Soonyoung’s beet red face and Seulgi’s bored expression. “Where’s Cheol?” 

“He went home,” Jeonghan answers simply. 

“What? Why?” you ask, glancing around for a clock, “he never leaves before midnight.” 

Jeonghan just shrugs, “he said he was tired.”

“When did he leave?” you twist around to get a view of the entrance, as if the man in question might spontaneously appear. A small bird of hope rises into your throat as someone stumbles through the doors, but it's quickly smothered when you realise it’s just Johnny. 

“Pretty much right after you shuffled off to the coat check with tall, dark, and handsome.” 

“Well…” you flounder, thwarted hookup almost entirely forgotten in the wake of your friend’s absence. 

“Well what?” 

“What do we do now?” you ask, floundering in the absence of the anchor of your friend group. 

“Take an uber home whenever we’re done here, I guess,” he sighs, “why are you so worried?”

“It’s just so not like him.”

“Well, feel free to grill him about it tomorrow when we’re all hungover and miserable.” Jeonghan says with a shrug and you lean back in your chair, determined to do just that. 

–

Wedding #2 

You’re sweating through the fabric of the cocktail dress you bought on sale, traipsing across a field propped up on Seungcheol’s arm towards a massive canvas tent for the reception of the second wedding of the season. Apparently it was the vision of this bride to torture her guests with the combination of heat and isolation. 

You had driven out at 9:00am to the small town venue, bouncing down the old highway in Soonyoung’s used Jeep and praying that the reception was going to end soon so you could head back to the motel and pass out in your pyjamas. The tent is decorated in what can only be described as ‘country chic’ and you baulk at the prospect of being forced to take photos on a pile of hay bales. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” a familiar voice calls out over the din of the music. You glance up from your flute of champagne to find the source and come face to face with Mingyu. He’s wearing a similar blue suit to the last time you saw him, hair styled away from his forehead. A broad grin stretches over his handsome face.

“Mingyu?” you ask, barely concealing the surprise that flares up inside you at his appearance in front of you. “What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he laughs, “didn’t know you were attending every single wedding this summer.” 

“Just about,” you echo his laugh and return the smile, “just a plus one at this one, though, I fear.”

“Ah, well that’s alright,” he nods, “plus one means I still got the opportunity to see you. So I should thank whoever brought you along, I suppose.” He raises an eyebrow, clearly wondering who the person in question was.

“Yeah, well I think the person in question is currently getting very tipsy at the open bar,” you nod to your side to indicate Seulgi, currently chatting up one of the bridesmaids in her usual fashion–all big laughs and small touches. 

Mingyu chuckles at the sight, but the light laughter fades as he notices the rest of your group leaning up against the opposite side of the bar, currently bickering over who knows what. Jeonghan flashes you a quick grin and a wink when he notices you staring over towards them and you give him a half wave before turning back to Mingyu. “Your ex is here, too?” 

“My ex?” you ask, confused. He stares at you blank faced and you glance back towards your friends, eyes falling on Seungcheol’s unusually stiff frame–lips pulled into a taut line as he looks back at you from across the dancefloor. “ Oh , you mean Seungcheol.” 

“Are you guys back together or…?” you hear the hesitancy in the question and bring your hands up to wave it away immediately. 

“No, no,” you laugh, “it was just…we stayed friends. Very amicable parting.” 

“Oh,” he nods, casting a hesitant glance over to the man in question, “that’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” He smiles in relief and then seems to catch himself, “I mean not…glad that you, like…went through a break-up, obviously, I just mean–” 

“It’s fine,” you laugh, trying your best to brush it off without letting the whole lie spill out in explanation. 

“I just mean,” he continues, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck–frayed nerves on full display. You step outside of yourself for a minute as he stumbles over his words. Marvelling at the sight of such a large, objectively attractive man being reduced to stutters–because of you . The novelty tugs at something in your mind–a desire to see it through. To follow where this thread leads, to whatever end. If before he was just a handsome convenience, now he is an intrigue. 

You tune back in as he seems to finally find the words he had been tripping over, “I just sort of…regret…how it ended last time. Maybe not completely regretting it, because I think I maybe did the right thing…?” he trails off, searching your expression for any hint of disagreement. Finding none, he continues, “what I'm trying to say is that I was having fun…with you.” 

“I was too,” you assure him and he smiles again, eyes crinkling up at the corners. 

“Good,” he breathes, “I’m glad.”

Conversation drifts and you take a breath to glance around the room. Your friends have scattered themselves about the room, Soonyoung and Seulgi each individually pursuing the same bridesmaid–each attempting to woo her away from the other with competing humour and drinks. Jeonghan has found someone to regale with his most recent horror story from work, and Seungcheol sits brooding on his own, leaning back with a glass of whiskey in a chair and staring out over the dancefloor. You briefly consider abandoning Mingyu and walking over to him–make some attempt to put him in a better mood, but the thought is knocked aside as Mingyu clears his throat next to you. 

“Do you want to try again?” he asks, and you can hear the hope lilting in his voice. 

“I don't think there are any closets here,” you laugh and he mirrors you once more with his own laugh. A sound you were growing rather fond of. 

“No, I mean after the reception. Where are you staying?” 

“Oh, at some motel in town,” you search for the name in the recesses of your brain but come up woefully short. “The West something. I can’t remember. Jeonghan told me, but I only listen to maybe 50% of what he says.” 

“The Westley?” he asks and it sounds close enough so you nod in the affirmative, “that’s where I’ve got a room as well.” 

“Well isn’t that serendipitous,” you smile, thinking that maybe the night was looking up after all. He nods, and you can see that he’s waiting for you to continue the invitation. To leap at the suggestion he has laid out before you but you enjoy watching him stumble over his words a bit so you remain silent–staring up at him in askance as you wait for him to continue the thought. 

“If you want,” he clears his throat, glancing to the side nervously, “you could meet me there. At the motel, I mean. In my room…” he trails off, ears turning pink–matching tone with the bouquet of peonies hanging from the chandelier behind him. You pretend to consider it, humming as if you’re giving it quite a serious amount of thought even though you’ve already decided to take him up on the offer. “Only if you want to,” he adds and you finally deliver him some relief.

“I do want to,” you smile and his own widens in response.

“Great. Cool. I’m staying in room 213.”

“213,” you affirm the number and he nods.

“I guess I’ll…see you later?” Despite the mutual agreement, he still poses it as a question. As if you might have changed your mind in the past 10 seconds. As if he might end up alone in his boxers, sad and eating stale snacks from the vending machine.

“See you later,” you confirm, abating his worries. You watch as his lips stretch into a bright smile before he waves a quick ‘later’ and heads back over to the bar where his friends are tossing back drinks. 

“What’s got you smiling so big? You look like you just got laid,” Jeonghan comments as you waltz back over to your own group of friends–face hurting from the force of your grinning. 

“Not yet~,” you sing. 

“What?” Seulgi whips around from the bridesmaid she’s chatting up, eyebrows raised in curiosity; the allure of gossip too strong for her to ignore. “With who? What did I miss?” 

“Some himbo,” Jeonghan starts filling her in but you stop him with a light smack to the back of the head. 

“His name ,” you emphasise the word in an attempt to erase Jeonghan’s comment, “is Mingyu. He’s tall and handsome and nice and I really want to sleep with him.” 

“Mingyu?” Seulgi asks, fully turning around in her seat now. Attention removed entirely from the now visibly annoyed bridesmaid behind her. Leaving an opening for Soonyoung to sweep in and distract her attention away from Seulgi and back onto the dancefloor.

“You know him?” Seungcheol leans forward, eyebrows raised. He had been pointedly ignoring you since you strutted back over from your run-in with Mingyu, but the potential for new information from Seulgi piques his interest.

“Sort of, yeah,” she replies, “my team at work had a contract with his bakery to–” 

“He’s a baker?” you interrupt, glancing over to where the man in question is standing against the bar. The new information slots into your brain and you can feel your pupils transforming into heart shapes as you stare agape at him. 

“Yeah, he is, it’s a cute shop. He gave us some free eclairs.” 

“Okay, so what’s wrong with him?” Seungcheol asks, arms crossed over his chest. 

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” you sigh, exasperated by the inquisition. “He’s just a guy, and you’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Cheol scoffs. A quiver of fear flashes across his face before it’s smothered by the more prominent emotion of annoyance. 

“Yeah, jealous that I’ve managed to bag a date and you haven’t,” you’re grasping at straws. Looking for anything to defend yourself and your choices with. 

He shakes his head, pushing himself out of his chair, “whatever. I wasn’t even looking for one in the first place.” 

“Where are you going?” you call out after him as he steps away from the table. Your tone matches his annoyance in spite of yourself as you demand some explanation for his sour mood. 

“To get a drink.” he replies over his shoulder, not bothering to look back as he does so. 

Jeonghan laughs, stretching back in his chair before following suit. He lays a hand on your shoulder before stepping away and you glance up at him, curious. “Believe when I tell you that I’m saying this with love but,” he says, smoothing down your hair with his other hand, “you’re an idiot.” 

His hands fall away and you watch as he meets up with Cheol and Soonyoung–recently abandoned by the bridesmaid–at the bar.  

“Ignore them,” Seulgi says and you’ve never appreciated her presence more than you do now. “If you want to have some fun, who are they to stop you? Did you get his phone number?” 

“No…” Saying it out loud makes you wonder why you never asked for it. “But I did get his room number. He told me to meet him there later.” 

“Did you write it down?” she asks, taking a slow sip from her drink. The bridesmaid she had been talking to returns, slinging an arm around her shoulder and whispering something into her ear. 

“I’ll remember it,” you say, confident in the strength of your own memory. 213. The number rolls over itself in your mind. 

“If you say so,” she nods, attention already slipping back towards the girl draped over her and you lose yourself in the clinking ice of your own drink while the reception dances around you in glitter and champagne. 

.

.

.

“How am I lost? There are literally only 3 floors in this place…” you mumble to yourself, walking through the first floor hallway. “Was it 113 or 102? Maybe 203…” 

The small labyrinth of doors seems to grow with every frustrating step. Mingyu had left the reception tent about an hour before you, taking with him any chance you had at reconfirming the numbers or actually doing what you should have done upon first meeting him and getting his phone number. You mentally curse the three tequila shots you slammed back at 11:30pm with Soonyoung and continue on your quest, heading up to the second floor in an attempt to jog your memory. 

The second floor presents you with nothing but a thicker haze of confusion. Numbers float around your head, taunting you as they dance in and out of your consciousness. 210, 222, 213, 203…the possibilities were endless and you weren’t too keen on knocking on every random door until you were greeted with the right face. 

You sigh and head up one more floor to the third, finally settling on a number and poise your fist to knock. 312. It felt as correct as any of them had so far–which is to say, not at all.

Silence for a moment before you hear shuffling footsteps behind the door, the lock unlatching. You hold your breath. 

The door swings open after a second and you’re greeted with an all too familiar face. “Cheol?” you ask as if you needed to clarify. He brings a fist up to his face, rubbing away any remnants of the sleep he was trying to get until you interrupted him.

“What are you doing here?” The confusion on his face mirrors your own and he glances over your shoulder, eyes scanning the empty hallway around you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I was trying to find someone…” 

He turns his attention back to you, fully, expression caught somewhere between amusement and exhaustion. “Forget his room number, did you?” 

“No,” you mutter with a frown, indignant. Cheol looks at you, the truth dangling in the air like a signpost. “Okay, fine. Yes, I forgot.”

“So…” he starts, taking a step back away from the door, “what are you going to do now?” 

“I don't know,” you sigh, pushing past him into the room and flopping down on the nearest of the two queen beds. “It feels almost hopeless to try and keep looking. I’ll just end up waking up more people.” 

The mattress dips as Seungcheol takes a seat next to you on the bed. “Won’t Romeo be disappointed that you stood him up?” you sense the slight edge of derision in his voice but ignore it. 

“Heartbroken, I’m sure,” you sigh before sitting up and glancing around. “Where’s Jeonghan?”

“In Soonyoung’s room making sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit. He did a line of shots with the bridesmaids and Seulgi after we all left, apparently.” 

“Naturally,” you snort. “That means Seulgi probably brought one of them back to our room too…”

“Do you want to go and check?” he asks and you shake your head without a second of further thought on the subject. 

“Can I just stay here for the night? I’m tired of walking.” 

He stares at you for a minute, brown eyes cast in shadows by the low lighting of the room. You slip your legs under the blanket, waiting for the confirmation, and snuggle into the warmth of the motel bed. “Fine,” he sighs, “but you get the other bed, this one is mine.” 

“But I like this one,” you whine and he sighs again, like a weary father at the end of a long road trip. “Thank you, Cheol~” you sing your gratitude as he shuffles into the bathroom. 

The frustration of the previous twenty minutes melts away as you settle into the room. Seungcheol’s luggage lays open on the floor and you slip out of bed to grab a spare t-shirt to sleep in while he’s still in the washroom. It’s an old one–one you remember buying for him in the early days of university after Soonyoung had managed to ruin the one he was wearing with a wayward bottle of ketchup.

You hadn’t realised he had held onto it for so long. 

The washroom door opens just as you slip the shirt on over your head. You turn, facing Seungcheol in his own tee and he pauses a moment, lingering in front of you like a held breath before walking over to the other bed and pulling out his phone. “Hungry?” 

“What?”  

“Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for a while so I figured we could just order a pizza.” 

“Oh, yeah sure. I could eat.”

The pizza arrives 30 minutes later, handed to you by a bored looking delivery guy, and you pile onto Seungcheol’s bed to share the late-night meal. You eat in companionable silence, only the soft sound of Friends reruns as they play on the TV in the background. 

“Do you really think there’s something wrong with him?” You break the silence in between slices and Cheol glances up at you, curious. 

“With who?” 

“Mingyu.” You don’t meet his eyes. Some sense of embarrassment at even asking–at considering his opinion on your potential hookups–forcing your gaze to remain fixed on the white comforter. 

He tosses his crust back into the box as he considers the question. “No, he seems like a decent guy,” he admits, and you finally force yourself to look up at him. Cheol stares into the TV, eyes reflecting the flashing images as they project out into the room. You wonder if the same feeling that made you avoid his gaze is also forcing his attention away from fully facing you. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t really know him, but he’s cute,” you shrug, “and interested. Which is more than I’m used to.” 

“Don’t be an idiot,” he scoffs, immediately dismissing the self-deprecation. 

“It’s true , Cheol,” you laugh–resigned to the reality of your life. “I haven’t been with anyone in forever because I’m just tired of hoping. I don’t want to have to guess if someone likes me, I want to know .” 

Silence creeps in again. You expected another dismissal of the thought, maybe a platitude in place of any actual helpful advice because this just was the reality of dating these days, but instead he just turns his attention back to the screen. Eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. 

“Anyway, I don't think it matters now after tonight.” You conclude the conversation, reaching into the box and taking another slice of pizza. A spot of grease drips down to your chin and you reach for a napkin. 

“You’re so gross,” Seungcheol comments, leaning forward with a napkin before you even get a chance to grab one. The haze of melancholia dissolves from his expression and the corner of his lip quirks up in amusement. He dabs the spot of grease away with the corner of the napkin, the warmth of his hand sinking into your skin as he does so and you consider for a second what it might be like to lean forward and kiss him. The thought dissolves into mist as soon as he pulls away; like it has so many times in the past. 

.

.

.

Wedding #3

Another Saturday in July, another distant acquaintance's wedding. You’re not sure at what point in your life you met so many people (presumably university) but you’re praying they all stop getting married during the same two month period. 

The ceremony is beautiful, as they usually are, but long. The couple’s crusty white dog served as the ring-bearer and promptly peed all over the priests’ robes during the vows, which was the most exciting thing that could have possibly happened. Jeonghan managed somehow to get the entire incident on camera and you sit rewatching it before the dancing starts as the bride changes into her ‘reception gown’. 

The third wedding of the season has taken a toll on the group. Seungcheol sits with his blazer unbuttoned, leaning back in his seat as he picks at the remnants of the slice of french vanilla chiffon cake they served after dinner. Jeonghan has lost the glint of mischief in his eyes, content mostly to settle back and watch the proceedings instead of actively engaging in any sabotage as he usually would. Seulgi leans casually against the bar while she chats with the hired bartender about the advantages of Chilean wine over French. Only Soonyoung remains, as ever, excited to be here. He readjusts the laces on his scuffed loafers, “to cut a rug,” he says with a wink, and prepares to launch himself onto the dancefloor at the earliest opportunity with one of the bridesmaids (or groomsmen, he’s not picky). 

The evening begins as usual with the first dance between bride and groom–tastefully yet predictably set to ‘Your Song’ by Elton John–and devolves almost immediately into a rave as the already slightly tipsy guests take over the dance floor. Hours pass as nostalgia jam after nostalgia jam is blasted through the speakers and you collapse back into your chair after being spun around in circles by someone’s over eager uncle. 

You glance over at Seungcheol. His tie is loosened, the knot pulled down an inch or two from the base of his throat, a slight grin pulls at the corners of his lips as he watches Soonyoung attempting to tango across the dancefloor with a poor, unsuspecting bridesmaid. 

You watch as he tips back his bottle of beer, the Adam's apple curving the skin of his throat bobbing as he drinks. A thought occurs to you at this moment. Maybe less of a thought, and more of a feeling. One that has occurred to you many times before, in passing sometimes when your hands brush as you move around each other in the kitchen–the only two semi-responsible hands trying to get things together for a dinner party. 

Sometimes it has occurred to you more concretely–more consciously. A feeling conjured up actively in your own imagination as you lay awake in bed, silently pondering how your life might shift if you ever acted on it. 

That light tugging at the centre of your chest. A dull thudding as your eyes rake over the skin of his throat, as they travel down the length of his body. As you remember how many times you’ve been innocently pressed against him–camping, baking, beer pong. 

Steady Seungcheol. A constant in your life since freshman year of college, during a class neither of you wanted to take but were both forced into due to missing multiple application deadlines and a need to fill credits. 

Steady Seungcheol who was always there when you needed him. Who had held you while you cried, who had seen you through your messiest of days. Who had laughed with you throughout the years; celebrated milestones, cried with you when your family dog died, and who had unfailingly been himself throughout it all. 

Steady Seungcheol who was so much more than that. Who was kind and brave–even when he would complain the entire time. Who was always around to help out anyone who needed his help in any form. Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Seulgi, friends, family, neighbours. You. 

Looking at him now, that fleeting feeling that came and went throughout the years took on more shape. It began to solidify in your mind until you felt you could almost touch it, hold it. You wanted to peel back the layers of your skin and flesh and pluck it out for him to see. Hold it in front of him like a jewel to be appraised. 

“Do you want to pretend to date again?” you ask, half dazed, and watch as Seungcheol leans forward–brows knit in concern. 

“Has someone been bothering you tonight?” 

“No, no,” you start to laugh, “no one has been hitting on me at all.” 

“Oh, good,” he nods, expression still slightly tense. “Then…” concern bleeds into mild confusion, “why would we…?”

“I just,” you begin, inhaling. Preparing to pluck out the jewel and place it on the table in front of you. 

I just want to try. To test out this feeling that has laid dormant in my chest for years, waiting for an opportunity. 

I just want to feel close to you again. Closer than before. 

I just want to see how good my hands might fit into yours. 

I just want to see what this feeling actually means.

The song blasting out through the speakers fades out, allowing the noise of the wedding to filter into your small bubble. The feeling recedes once more, the jewel dissolving into the ether. Soonyoung’s laugh booms out through the canvas tent and you blink back to reality, meeting Seungcheol’s dark, questioning eyes as he waits for your response. “No reason,” you force out a laugh and take a quick sip of your own beer, “it was just a silly thought.” 

The music shifts, the pace of the dancers slowing to an almost crawl as the playlist slips into a slow jam. A few couples linger, arms encircling each other as they sway to the hypnotic beat. Soonyoung collapses into the seat next to you, rousing your attention as he reaches for the remnants of your cocktail. 

You swat his hand away with a soft ‘hey’ and he baulks at you, “I’m just thirsty,” he pouts. 

“Then go get some water,” you pull the drink away from him and his pout deepens as he follows it, sprawling out over the table and whining like a wounded cat. 

“But I want this, it looks good.” 

“It is , that’s why–”

The bickering is cut short as a hand extends into view in front of you, outstretched towards your own in offering. “I’ll get you another one later,” Seungcheol offers and you glance up at him.

His tie has been re-tightened around his throat, hair straightened back up from its previously tousled state, and he stands next to you–smiling that soft-eyed smile of his and beckoning you to stand. “Come and dance with me.” 

You stare up at him for a moment–a moment caught in time. Soonyoung and all thoughts of the drink fade from existence as Seungcheol comes into absolute clarity in front of you. How come you never noticed exactly how his mouth curls up higher on one side? 

‘I’ve been staring at him for too long,’ you think in a panic shortly before slipping your hand into his. The sudden feeling of skin on skin shocks you to your senses and you find yourself following him out onto the dancefloor.

He picks a spot closer to the edge, further from the rest of the people still lingering about the tent. His hands come to settle on your waist, pulling you towards him, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing.

You’ve been friends for years. 

You’ve slept in the same bed together, gone on long road trips crammed next to each other in the back seat of someone’s rickety old car, and seen each other naked on the rare occasion when your more impulsive friends decide to go skinny dipping in the middle of the night during a camping trip. 

So why was this moment–here swaying in his arms to some nondescript, retro love song–so incredibly potent for you. Why did it feel like your heart was being inflated like a party balloon and twisted into the vague shape of a poodle? 

Looking in his eyes feels intensely like danger, so you rest your head on his shoulder as he moves you slowly around the dancefloor. His arms wrap tighter around you and for a moment you let yourself fall into the fantasy. For a moment it’s just you and him–like it has been so many times before–but deeper. His hand comes to settle at the small of your back and you feel an electricity flow from his fingertips directly into your stomach–tightening the knot of possibility.  

And then as soon as it began, the feeling slips away as the song comes to an end and the party resumes. A rogue bridesmaid–tipsy with wine and frivolity–bumps into you and you stumble, Seungcheol steadies you on his arm before leading you back towards the table where you abandoned Soonyoung (who, in the time you were gone, has since downed both the rest of your drink and Jeonghan’s glass of wine). 

You slip back into your seat and Seungcheol does the same, loosening his tie once more and casting his gaze back out over the rest of the tent as the night drags on, but you let your eyes linger on him. Tracing the line of his jaw, down his neck. Committing his profile to this new memory–the new feeling–before locking it away tight in the back of your mind alongside the word ”impossibility”. 

.

.

.

Wedding #4

Another weekend, another countryside wedding. You assume that maybe some bridal magazine or another must have been extolling the virtues of getting hitched out amongst the sounds of the birds and the insects. Away from the business of the city–away from the cars, the people, the air conditioning. It’s the only thing that could possibly explain why you find yourself walking unsteadily down another gravel road in high heels heading away from the reception tent. 

The setting sun bathes the field in a golden glow and you have to admit to yourself that it is a picturesque setting. That maybe you wouldn’t mind so much getting married somewhere like this–doing your photoshoot out in the warmth and expanse of the great outdoors. 

A voice calls out, softly at first and then more insistently and you’re pulled out of your reverie–glancing around for the source of the sound.

He comes into view, smiling and waving, as he weaves his way towards you through the throng of wedding guests making their way down the road to their cars. “Mingyu?” 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again after the last wedding,” he says, coming to a halt in front of you.

“Ah, yeah,” you laugh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I’m sorry about that by the way, I got lost in the motel.” 

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, smile unwavering. “I mean, I won’t say I wasn’t a little bit disappointed, but I understand. We should have probably just exchanged numbers in the first place.” 

“That would have been the smart move,” you nod, laughing. 

Jeonghan clears his throat next to you, reminding you that there are four other people bearing witness to your impromptu reunion. “Are you coming? Or should we leave you behind?” 

“Gimme a second,” you hush him. 

“I could give you a ride,” Mingyu offers, avoiding the gaze of your friends as they stare. “third times the charm?”

If it had been three weddings ago, you would have agreed immediately. No hesitation. But something has shifted. Something intangible but powerful stays your decision for a moment–hovering in the back of your mind as you consider your options. “Hang on one second,” you ask him, hands out as if to keep him in place. As if he might disappear the second you turn away from him. He nods and you turn back towards your friends. 

“Are you going with him?” Seungcheol asks as you stand in front of him–paralyzed by your inability to make a choice. Silently begging him to tell you not to go so that you don’t have to choose.

“I don’t–” you start, but the words falter as soon as they begin to make their way out of your mouth.

“Do you want to go with him?” he asks and you just stare at him open-mouthed. “You have to make a choice,” he sighs, clearly annoyed by this predicament you’ve found yourself in. 

“I don’t know,” you stutter. Seulgi, Soonyoung, and Jeonghan are already halfway back to the car. Seungcheol is your last chance. 

“Just go,” he shakes his head, handing you the crossbody bag you had asked him to hang onto halfway through the day. “Call me in the morning.”  

That was it, then. Decision made. You turn back around towards Mingyu–handsome as ever in his sleek black suit jacket and tie–and offer him a lopsided smile. “Let’s go,” you say, feigning a cheerful tone even as a small bird of disappointment takes flight in your heart. 

Mingyu’s parked in the other lot, he says. You take his arm to better hobble across the gravel pathway towards it, moving further and further away from your friends as you go. You make small talk for a while–chatting easily about what you’ve been up to since you last saw each other, how his bakery is doing, how you found the wedding. Again you find yourself amazed at how simple it was to slip into a rapport with him–almost too simple. Superficial, in its simplicity. You lose yourself in the scenery as you step closer to where he’s parked, letting the conversation drift away. 

“I can’t imagine it,” Mingyu comments after a moment of silence, glancing over towards the reception tent as it sits mostly empty in the field–aglow with the light of lanterns and the remnants of the setting sun as the night slips into dusk. 

“Can’t imagine what?” 

“Knowing that the person you’re with is the one you want to be with for the rest of your life. To the point where you commit yourself to it,” he shakes his head, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way about anyone.”

“There’s still time,” you laugh. The romance of the day settles into your mind and you let yourself float along the river of thought as it carries you away, “I think I get it.”

“You do?” 

“I do,” you nod. “It’s not a stars-and-butterflies sort of love, you know? I think you have to be with someone long enough to feel like you know everything about them, but still want to be around them anyway. They annoy you, but it’s only because you care about them and really can’t imagine a life without them.” 

“Have you been engaged before?” he asks and you laugh again. 

“No, but,” a thought dances in front of your face. Just out of the realm of tangibility. You reach out to grab it but it slips through your fingers. “I think I’ve felt it, I think–” 

It lands suddenly–the thought. Planting itself square in your head and you feel your heart leap into your throat. “Holy shit.” 

“What?” Mingyu asks, turning to you as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“Oh my god ,” you bring your hands up to your face, burying yourself in them out of sheer embarrassment. “I’m so fucking stupid .”

“Is everything okay?” he asks again, not bothering to hide the worry that is evident on his face. You look up at him, mourning the loss of what could have been for a brief moment before turning your mind to face the reality of what is in this moment. 

“No,” you shake your head, “I mean yes, fine. I just…holy shit .” 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, more than,” you laugh–feeling giddy and manic with this new discovery. “I just realised I'm in love.” 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry Mingyu,” you take his hands in yours, squeezing his palms twice before dropping them and taking a step back. “You’re a great guy, for what it’s worth. I was looking forward to sleeping with you. 

“Thank you…?”

“I have to go.” You spin around on your heels, leaving him standing dumbfounded behind you. You can apologise more thoroughly later, but for now you have a deadline to meet. 

Your ankle gives out beneath you and you stumble, narrowly toppling over before managing to right yourself; you grab at the fabric of your skirt, hoisting it up a foot off the ground to avoid tripping further as you cut across the lawn back towards the people you came with. Back towards Seungcheol. 

“I want to go home with you.” 

He turns to you, confused, as you stumble into him. His arm naturally comes up to support you, giving you a steady place to lean your weight onto. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?” 

The concern, ever present for him and often ignored on your part, really sinks in this time. A warm blanket of care that would almost bring you to tears if you weren’t already afloat on a cloud of anxiety and love. “Everything is fine, I just…” you trail off, unsure of how to word your most recent revelation. Sure only that you didn't want to do it in front of every other person you know. “I just changed my mind. I want to go with you.” 

“Umm, yeah we can drop you off on the way if you want to go back to your place?” 

“No, no,” you shake your head, adamant and firm in your unspoken conviction. “I want to go home with you .”

“With…me?” You nod, watching the dawning of realisation as it crosses his face. His brown eyes widening, mouth dropping agape. A moment’s breath hangs in the air between you before he can bring himself to accept this new reality. “Okay”

The ride back to the city is silent. Or, the front seat is silent, at least. You sit in the passenger seat, watching Seungcheol out of the corner of your eye as he drives–face dimming as the light leaves the sky and is replaced by the soft glow of the crescent moon. The backseat is populated by four people eager to prolong the festivities as long as possible and this make this known–loudly–as Soonyoung proclaims they were all invited to his place for drinks after and that Jihoon “wouldn’t mind too much” if they just crashed in his living room. 

The bundle of nerves that had been making its home inside of your stomach eases its stranglehold as the city comes into view. You let your gaze wander over Cheol as he keeps his eyes fixed on the road. His hair falls in a slope over the nape of his neck–longer than he usually keeps it. Everything about him, at once so familiar and yet still so new. It was funny to you how different someone appeared once your perception of them changed. Once those feelings that you had always kept behind some brick wall inside of you were finally set loose and accepted. 

The nerves dissolve into some sense of anticipation as he pulls to a stop in front of Soonyoung’s apartment building and everyone piles out of the backseat. Jeonghan stops at the driver’s side window to say something to Seungcheol but you don’t manage to catch any of it–only enough to see him nodding in your direction in place of a proper good night.

The silence returns and remains as he weaves the vehicle through the city streets back towards his place. It remains as you clamber out of the vehicle, taking his hand as he offers it without a word, and as you step inside the dark interior of his home. 

You follow him in silence up the stairs towards his room, not daring to give voice to the thoughts humming in the air between you. They shimmer in the darkness and light up the silence around you with their own song. Seungcheol’s hand never leaves yours. Not until he tugs you behind him into his room and down onto the mattress to sit next to him. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot,” you say, breaking the silence with what feels like the most genuine apology you can muster. For all the years you wasted wallowing in your own obliviousness. 

He frowns into the dark of his bedroom, hand tightening around yours as it sits on his lap, “you’re not an idiot.” 

“I am,” you insist with a soft laugh, “how many years have I been in love with you without realising? I think that’s pretty stupid.” 

“Maybe,” he concedes the point with a hum. “But if you’re an idiot, then I’m the town moron.” His tone is so serious and considerate it makes you want to cry when all you can do is laugh. 

“So we’re both stupid, then,” you laugh and he finally lets a small smile break through–expression cast in a soft glow of the streetlights leaking in through his window. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

His hand flexes around yours again as he considers it. You never realised how soft they were before–his hands. Soft, yet firm. Gentle in their strength. A pure and genuine reflection of his character. “I did try, a few times,” he confesses and you do what you can to mask the shock of it. 

“When?” 

“In university, the first time. And then later when we were all drunk at some housewarming party–Seulgi’s, I think,” he laughs, more to himself than anything. A memory recalled that you aren’t privy to. “Maybe my timing was just bad or…maybe it just wasn’t clear, but I sort of gave up after that.” 

“Why?” you whisper the question. It feels like glass as it hands in the air–fragile. Like it might shatter at any given moment. You’re almost afraid of the answer. 

“I was more afraid of losing you than I was of just…living with my own feelings,” he admits and you think you really just might start crying. 

“Cheol…” you shift on the bed, moving to face him in the darkness. He follows, dropping your hands for the first time this evening so he can meet you eye to eye. 

“Can I try again?” he asks. You move to say that he doesn’t have to, that you reciprocate everything already, but something shining in his eyes–even in the darkness of the room–stops you. He takes your hands back in his, running his thumb in small circles over the back of them as he speaks.

“I love you,” he starts and you feel your heart leap back up into your throat–grateful for the dim lighting shielding your face from his full view. “I’ve loved you since we met and you drive me absolutely insane , but what’s worse,” he emphasises, “is that I can't imagine my life without that. Without you.” 

“I love you, too,” you breathe, setting free the words that had been so long trapped inside of you longing to escape. 

“There was something I wanted to do the first time I confessed.” He hesitates a beat before you nod for him to continue, “I’m afraid it might be sort of…corny now, but–” another pause, another breath. Gathering courage in the darkness. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Will you be my girlfriend?” 

“Of course,” you laugh and he exhales a breath that you didn’t realise he had been holding. 

“Thank god,” he giggles. It takes every ounce of will in your body not to fling yourself on top of him at the sound. 

“So are we…official now? Are we going steady?” 

“Stop,” he laughs, relief still clear in his voice despite the annoyance at the teasing. The laughter dies after a moment, settling back into a stretched silence as you sit hand in hand across from each other on his bed. It lasts for a second, a minute, a year before he finally breaks it, inhaling a short, shaky breath, “should we…kiss?” 

“I think so, yeah,” you nod, leaning forward to meet his lips even as you say it. The anticipation from earlier rises back up in your throat as you are pulled closer together. The gravity between you sinking your bodies into each other until finally– finally –your lips meet. 

It’s awkward at first, for a moment, as you figure each other out. Figure out how you fit together in this new world. A moment of adjusting–bodies and worldviews–and then…it all clicks. And it’s easy. And you can’t imagine a time when you weren’t kissing him. 

His arms move to embrace you and you sink into it, moving onto his lap and letting him pull you closer, closer, closer. For a few minutes it's all bumping noses and soft giggles between kisses before the atmosphere in the room shifts. 

His fingers sink deeper into the flesh of your hips, your hands in his hair tighten their grip and you press your chest firmer against his-feeling his heartbeat as it races in time with your own. His breathing becomes more laboured as he moves to slip a hand under your skirt, raising the hem up your thighs to your waist. You slip his tie off around his head, eager to get through the layers of his suit and lay him bare before you. 

A rustle of fabric as your dress hits the floor of his room, a siren ringing out through the clear night air, and you find yourself slipping past the point of no return. Easing into this new relationship like you’ve been together for a century. 

At the end of the night, in the dark of the room as you lay against his chest and succumb to the fog of exhaustion, you feel his lips press firm against the top of your head, a soft whisper of “I love you” and you feel your heart inflate with the feeling of a dream fulfilled.

.

.

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Wedding #5 

Another summer, another wedding. You thought you were running out of friends and family who would bother to invite you to these events, but you find yourself decked out in yet another discount cocktail dress, sipping champagne from a rose gold flute glass as Soonyoung and Jeonghan argue about food. 

“Oysters aren’t a crudit é s, you idiot, they’re an aphrodisiac ,” Jeonghan seethes, glaring at Soonyoung as he sits assured in his stance on the seafood. 

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, crudit é s could be an aphrodisiac,” he pouts–an unnecessary gesture considering the topic at hand. Seulgi sits between them sipping a martini and glancing at each one like they’re the most intensely stupid people she has ever seen in her life. 

“What is sexy about cut vegetables?” Jeonghan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You fix Seulgi with an amused stare before pushing yourself out of your chair, she returns it before rolling her eyes at Soonyoung’s derisive groan. 

“What does being sexy have to do with it?” 

“Aphrodisiacs are foods used to increase sex drive !” 

The argument fades into the background, joining the ambient conversations and music that fills the reception hall around you as you set off to find Seungcheol. 

You spy him at the bar–as per usual–and slink up behind him. “There you are,” he says as you slip your arms around his waist, pressing your face into the space between his shoulder blades. He holds out an arm for you to nestle into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you do. “I was wondering where you were.” 

“Just babysitting,” you sigh, sinking into his warmth–grateful for the sense of solidity and familiarity that he always offers you regardless of the setting. 

“Can you make me a promise?” you ask, he hums in response indicating for you to continue. “When we have our wedding, can we avoid inviting those two?” 

He laughs, head tossed back by the force of it. No need to ask for any clarification on who ‘those two’ referred to as Soonyoung’s voice rings out over the crowd with the word “APPETIZERS!”

Cheol presses another kiss to your head, still chuckling, “deal.”