Work Text:
prologue.
Seungmin passes by his locker, and has to remind himself it hasn’t been his for twenty five years; he can’t comprehend that, it was his and always will be - it belongs to him and every other student who knows the code to 19183. He contemplates trying the lock, wanting the confirmation that something has remained unchanged, that his memories have been made concrete somewhere in the world. But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t know why he came. To brag? To prove himself? To whom? Twenty-five years ago he’d stepped off the makeshift graduation stage with a promise to himself that he’d never step foot on these grounds again - that he’d do something with himself.
He walks the halls, too big, grown out of his high school body - if you asked his mother she’d say he hadn’t changed a bit, give or take a few inches. But he feels it now, adulthood; these halls are more than tall enough for an adult of his size - but he makes sure to keep his feet close to his body lest he scuff the breezeblock walls, shuffling through awkwardly.
He finds himself in front of the doors to the gymnasium without following the signs for the reunion and tries not to think too hard about it.
The second the door swings shut behind him his eyes find Minho; he’d spent his high school years observing the man in front of him, and presented with the same situation twenty-five years later, he finds it impossible. The impossibility of Minho existing within this space that had always been so stifling and unnatural makes Seungmin take a second look around. It’s exactly the same as it was. He thinks it will remain the same until the day comes when they find asbestos in the foundations and tear it down.
When he turns back to Minho, the man is already looking at him. A man he hasn’t seen in six years, but a man he’d never mistake for another.
“Seungmo?! Dude I can’t believe it’s really you!”
Seungmin instinctively grinds his teeth, a habit he hasn’t ever managed to rid himself of no matter how many times his orthodontist has scolded him. “Neither can I.” He mumbles to himself before turning to face his friend, “Hey.”
“Long time no see - you finally got yourself a girl I see?” He points to the wedding band adorning Seungmin’s finger, wrapped increasingly tighter around the glass he was handed on entry.
Seungmin wants to punch him, “And you tricked someone into marrying you?” he nods back at him.
“So harsh Seungmo - that’s new.”
“Crazy how things change in twenty five years, huh?” Seungmin doesn’t give him time to respond, “I’ve got to run on, catch you later?”
Seungmin heads to the temporary bar, tricking himself into believing it’s an open bar, and ordering the strongest spirit he can see.
Ten minutes and three drinks later - Minho rests his elbows on the bar, looking out over the floor.
“My regards to the happy couple.” He smirks, “Whoever they are.” he turns the smirk on Seungmin.
“Your invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail,” Seungmin doesn’t have Minho’s address, or phone number, or email, “sorry.”
“How long?”
“Coming up on eighteen months.” Seungmin swallows. He signals the bartender.
“Oof, honeymoon period. What a magical time.” Minho sounds far away for a moment, genuinely happy.
“You sound like you’re still in yours.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how marriage works.” He pauses, Seungmin knows the question Minho is pushing to the back of his mind, the what-if. “You’ll understand soon, little one.” He ruffles his hair - trying to dispel any lingering awkwardness.
“Shut up.” He laughs, pushing him off and re-adjusting his hair.
“Aw, your hair looked good like that. Now you look like a divorced father who got told his alimony payments are going up.”
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you sound excited at the prospect of me being divorced.” Seungmin sends him a withering look.
“It’s a good job you do know better then.” Minho intercepts his drink from the bartender, “I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy Seungmin.”
high school.
Seungmin finds an odd comfort in the lumpy mashed potatoes from the school canteen, in all the imperfect slices of unidentifiable meat they try to pass off as nutritious. To Seungmin it’s a reminder that school is supposed to suck; to have his unhappiness reflected in his lunch often alleviates his worry, at least somewhat. The poor potatoes planted, watered, harvested, washed, peeled, diced, steamed, and crushed only to end up on some ungrateful teenager’s plate. To be pushed around and left uneaten while said teenager struggles to not let his friend’s words into his head.
Seungmin also finds comfort in the amount of mashed potatoes in the waste bin when he empties his tray - and he can pretend, for at least a moment, that everyone else feels the same as him.
“I’m just saying, you’re missing out Seungmo!” Seungmin hates that nickname. “Come on, let me introduce you to some girls in our year - maybe they’d be interested.”
Maybe. His friend won’t even pretend he believes in the idea.
Seungmin sighs, “I don-”
“Okay we’re going.” His friend cuts him off, grabbing his sleeve, and signalling to the rest of their group.
“Going where?” Seungmin lets himself be dragged along, he can’t imagine himself putting up a fight, he doesn’t know how.
“Keep up Seungmo,” his friend doesn’t cast him a glance, eyes training like a hawk on any girl that enters their proximity, assessing, “we’re getting you a girlfriend. Maybe.”
Maybe. Seungmin doesn’t know how to tell him that a girlfriend is the last thing he wants.
“Oh.” He replies dumbly, knowing his friend won’t listen to anything he has to say.
“Hey!” His friend picks up his pace, pulling a stumbling Seungmin behind him.
“Hi?” A girl he vaguely recognises stands in front of them, her path now blocked.
“Would you date him?” he asks, gesturing over Seungmin like he’s an antique under stage lights, his friend - the auctioneer who’s been told there are some unsuspecting newcomers in the audience and thinks there’s a pretty penny to be made in their naivety.
Seungmin’s heart tightens and his cheeks start to tingle, and he can’t do anything but stand helplessly as shame washes over him. He doesn’t hear what the girl has to say, only notices she’s already gone when the thundering in his ears has subsided enough for him to hear his friend shouting after her.
Seungmin thinks about the way everyone talks about running in nightmares. How, no matter how fast you move, how hard you focus, you can’t get away. You can’t control your body, or help yourself. You have to accept your fate, you have to stand there and watch the monster approach, that’s the only option you have left, it's better than dying a coward.
Seungmin could have sworn he was awake.
But the nightmare continues; Seungmin is forced to stand and watch himself be rejected over and over again and wishes there was something he could do about it. It’s like he’s not in his own body, he’s hovering over himself screaming at him to walk away, to get himself out of there, but he can’t.
“When did every girl in this school turn so god-damn picky?” His friend sighs as if this situation is a nuisance put upon him by Seungmin. “Is there any girl you like?”
Seungmin would have laughed at that being the first time his friend has considered his feelings, but he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have enough breath in his lungs to waste on laughter.
“Is there… a guy?”
Seungmin would have cried at being asked that question if he had enough water in his skin to waste on tears, he feels dry, stale, brittle.
He never thought he’d have to have this conversation, his friend never focussing on Seungmin for more than a few moments at a time. He can’t say no - because he’d be lying. But he doesn’t want to answer - he likes having a part of himself that’s just for him, nobody else - not even his family.
He doesn’t want to give up such an integral part of who he is to these people who will never care about him, but in the next moment he realises it doesn’t matter what he wants.
He’s not given a choice - he’s been outed by a question, by a nosy friend who never considered what he was asking.
His silence answers for him and his friend gasps, and then - like it means nothing - drags Seungmin away to get rejected again. And maybe it does mean nothing, but Seungmin feels a bit emptier than he did two minutes ago, he almost wishes he’d eaten those mashed potatoes. Almost.
“You’re gay right?” his friend asks when he happens upon their target. Seungmin doesn’t want to see, he looks towards the trees enclosing the school grounds.
“Do I know you?” The reply is cold, and Seungmin recognises the voice.
“Yeah, you’re Minho right?”
“That’s me.” Shit. “I asked about you.”
“No need to be so hostile dude, I was just going to ask if you wanted to date my friend - he thinks you’re cute.”
Seungmin whips his head round, and sees his friend clearly pointing to him. What the fuck?
“If your friend actually likes me, he can talk to me himself.” Seungmin avoids his gaze. “Either way, fuck off.” Minho casts a last evaluative look at Seungmin before turning his back on them.
“Might have dodged a bullet there, Seungmo - what a tool.” His friend shakes himself back to normal before dragging Seungmin around to proposition more of their year.
Seungmin is out to the whole school before the end of lunch, and the next day he takes his seat in the canteen to push mashed potatoes around his tray until his friend has bored of his own voice and decides it's time to leave. The bins are empty when Seungmin scrapes the potatoes off his tray, and when he gets home he cries to nobody.
first year.
Seungmin doesn’t talk to Minho until they’re eighteen, when he sees Minho on the Facebook group for the new intake at Seungmin’s university. He sends him a friend request and shuts his laptop so it can’t attack him.
Seungmin has been in the dorms for fifteen days, his roommate dropped out twelve days ago, and he’s scared. He doesn’t know anybody at the University and he’s struggling to get to grips with his classes. He tries to tell himself not to panic - that he has time, but he is panicking. And seeing Minho’s name pop up feels like it could be a helping hand from above.
When he walks into the campus coffee shop the next morning, he’s met with Minho already there, waiting with two coffees - one iced and one steaming. He looks different, even though high school graduation was only two months ago - Seungmin still thinks there’s been a change. The change that all teens hope for when they move out for the first time - that they’ll immediately become an adult, that the veil of ambiguity the world puts over your eyes from birth is whipped away and the world comes crashing into focus and sense. Minho looks like an adult, and Seungmin feels like a child with a crush.
“Sorry I’m late.” Seungmin apologises as he pulls off his beanie and takes a seat.
“You’re not late.”
Seungmin glances at the decorative clock on the wall, but the stylistic lack of numbers make it hard to comprehend when his brain feels like it's fizzing. “Either way, sorry for keeping you waiting.”
“Which do you want?” Minho points at the drinks.
Seungmin silently points to the hot drink, Minho pushes it towards him, “Thank God.”
“Did the barista spit in it or something?” Seungmin asks warily.
“What?” Minho laughs, taken aback, “No, I just don’t like hot coffee that much.”
Seungmin feels the tips of his ears turn pink, he tries to smooth his hair down to cover them. It takes a turn towards awkward the longer he goes without speaking, but he doesn’t know how to start a conversation with someone he’s never spoken to before like they’re old friends. He takes a sip of his drink in the hopes that Minho might take the hint.
“Hello,” Minho offers his hand, “my name’s Lee Minho, nice to meet you.”
Seungmin accepts the handshake gently, Minho gives him a look telling him to play along, “Kim Seungmin.”
“How odd that we spent seven years at the same school and this is the first time we’ve spoken, two hundred miles away.”
“Yeah, well, we didn’t exactly run in the same circles.”
“Your friends were assholes.” Minho is blunt, perhaps wondering how Seungmin will answer.
“Friends is generous.” Seungmin admits, “We’ve not made plans to keep in touch - let's put it that way.”
“I don’t plan on keeping in touch with anyone either, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to since I left.”
“So we’re the same, unless you count my mum.”
“Mama’s boy?” Minho grins slightly, teasing.
Seungmin tries to smooth his hair again, doesn’t offer a response.
“So, Seungminnie,” he pauses, leaving the nickname hanging for a moment, “what made you finally break your silence?” He takes a sip from his straw.
“You’re the only person I know here.” He shrugs, “and it’s not like I was purposefully avoiding you before.”
“Weren’t you? I remember extending an olive branch.” Minho taps his chin.
He doesn’t respond immediately, feeling like that same small child from a few years before, unable to stand up for himself - trying to let himself be carried by the waves but slipping in and out of the abyss anyway.
Minho cuts in before he can fumble an answer out, “Oh well, that’s all ancient history now. I’m glad you reached out, it’s nice to know someone.” He’s still got a contemplative gaze locked on Seungmin.
“Yeah.” he answers weakly, “Sorry I’m being boring.”
“It’s nine a.m. - I don’t blame you.” Minho smiles, “But I have to get going now.”
Seungmin feels a slight relief, he’s put himself out there enough for today. But he also worries he’s blowing his chance to make a friend out of Minho.
“Oh, okay - I’ll see you around?” He asks, trying to cover the desperation in his tone.
“Maybe” Minho grabs his wrist, pushing his sleeve up and pressing a marker gently against his skin.
Seungmin adds Minho’s number to his phone that evening:
Lee Minho
Hello, it’s Kim Seungmin.
Read 18:08
Hello Kim Seungmin
party on fri
Party?
Read 18:08
a bunch of teenagers drinking dancing pda?
I know what a party is.
Read 18:09
then why’d u ask?
anyway txt u address for predrinks
I’m bursting with excitement.
Read 18:09
i can feel it
He is not excited for that party, the only information he has is that Minho will be there and that’s hardly a reassurance.
***
Seungmin wakes to an arm draped across his bare stomach, it’s warm. He squints at his phone screen and winces, seven o’clock on a Saturday morning, one week into the first semester. Not a prime opportunity for a quick getaway.
He carefully turns his head so as to not wake Minho, and allows himself an indulgent moment to simply look. The irony is not lost on Seungmin that - although he has known Minho for five years, this is the first time he’s allowed himself to really take in his features, only after spending a night becoming very well acquainted with the rest of his body.
He’s greedy, his eyes consume every aspect of Minho that makes him Minho. Unguarded, unrestricted, nestled in Seungmin’s skin. Physically where he had been for a long time only spiritually, longer than Seungmin cares to admit even to himself. Tangible in ways he had previously been intangible. Bona fide.
No, Seungmin thinks.
No.
Seungmin knows he can’t think like this, he knows not to expect anything from Minho. Not because of who he is, but what they are.
“You’re like a fucking radiator.” Minho’s breath ghosts over his collarbones, soft despite his words.
“You’re welcome.”
Minho puts a palm over his face in response and sits up, “You look like a dog.”
“Christ-” Seungmin laughs suddenly, “would it kill you to say Good Morning Seungmin before you start insulting me?”
“What are we - straights in an unhappy marriage?” He screws his face up, “And anyway…” he leans down, propped up on one arm, his other petting Seungmin’s hair where it lays on the pillow, “It’s cute, like a puppy.”.
Seungmin closes his eyes, not allowing himself to make eye contact - and only reopens them when he feels Minho move back. Minho’s sitting back on his heels, either side of Seungmin’s thighs, with his phone pointed directly at him. Seungmin covers his face out of instinct, letting out an indignant yelp.
“Too late.” Minho mocks, turning his phone, “Look, puppy.”
“Delete that.”
“Hmm.” Minho pretends to think, “But I need to save it for our wedding speeches.”
Seungmin feels his ears turn pink within seconds, DON’T think about a wedding, Seungmin. “Um.” Is all he can say.
“Relax, Seungmin.” Minho climbs off him, “You’re just cute when you blush, I’m not actually planning our nuptials.” He smiles.
“I hate you.”
“That’s not what you were saying last night.”
“About that-” Seungmin is sheepish.
“Oh God, you weren’t planning our nuptials were you?”
“No. The opposite actually.”
“Divorce?!” Minho shouts, scandalised, too loud considering the sun is still flirting with the horizon. Seungmin’s endeared, more and more by the second, reaching a level he’d thought impossible.
“Let’s call it an amicable split.” Minho looks lost. “What I’m trying to say,” Seungmin attempts to gather himself, “is - we’re friends right?”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Okay, um - well we did what we did-”
“Fucked.” Minho interjects helpfully.
“-because we know each other, right? Like a home comfort thing? And we’re both people who don’t want to be tied to home, right? So I figure we both want to explore, right? Not be tied down?”
Seungmin says we like it will convince him it’s true, that this is what he wants. Seungmin doesn’t know what he wants.
Minho doesn’t respond, lapsing into a quiet contemplative state, biting the inside of his cheek, staring at the sheets.
Seungmin fumbles to continue, “Like - we went to high school together, right? And you don’t want the start of your university experience to be tied to what used to be?”
“I know what you mean, Seungminnie.” Minho nods, “Friends?”
“Friends.”
Seungmin doesn’t want to hold Minho back, he represents everything Minho made clear he wanted to leave, and he knows Minho isn’t in love with him, so this is the easiest option.
Seungmin doesn’t know what he wants, but he stamps the feeling that it’s not this down the shower drain when he steps under the spray.
wedding number seven.
“You had a haircut?”
“One of these days you’ll greet me normally.”
“Don’t hold your breath Seungminnie.” Minho coos, settling into the seat next to him.
“It’s unlike you to be seated when there’s a dancefloor within arms reach, does it still call to you?”
“Oh it’s singing like a siren. But I broke my knee six months back, like fully shattered, and the screws they put in have clearly never watched the cinematic masterpiece Footloose.” Minho lowers his voice, “They don’t understand the power of dance.”
Seungmin laughs, he always laughs with Minho.
“But what about your dreams of touring the world?” He affects dismay.
Minho is a terrible dancer, but it’s never stopped him. Every birthday party, wedding, baby shower, he’d be centre of the floor, throwing shapes that some might argue should be made illegal. It didn’t even need to be a dance floor - if there was an area big enough to contain him he’d find it. Seungmin thinks nothing could contain Minho, not without sacrificing at least one part of him, and Seungmin can’t think of any he’d willingly let slip through his fingers just to capture Minho.
“I’m thinking of a comeback tour.”
“I feel you’ve misunderstood the word comeback. To what exactly are you coming back?”
“Oh Seungminnie, always doubtful of me.”
“Never.” Seungmin coos.
***
This is the seventh wedding Seungmin and Minho have been on the guest list for, they always end the same. Seungmin would struggle to remember the names of all the couples they’ve seen wed, but he doesn’t forget how Minho looks the morning after.
This is the seventh wedding, and the seventh time Seungmin and Minho have woken in the same bed, in a worse-for-wear hotel room. Always a different room, always a different hotel, always Seungmin and Minho.
This is the seventh wedding, and this time it's different, Minho is already awake when Seungmin opens his eyes. They lie for a few minutes, sharing only body heat and muscle memory.
“Do you ever regret your career path?” He asks, startling Seungmin out of his groggy state.
“What?”
“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you did something else after university?” Minho alters the question, not hiding the watchful expression shaping his features.
Seungmin takes a second, cautious “I suppose - it’s only natural isn’t it? There’s always the what-ifs.” Minho doesn’t offer a response, happy to let Seungmin continue. “Of course I’ve thought about it. What if I joined a different company, what if I travelled to a different country, what if I never left the country at all?”
“Thought?” Minho repeats, “So you don’t think about it anymore?”
“Not as often,” He admits, “but I still do - I probably always will. I think it’s human nature to want to find out if you could be happier.” Seungmin doesn’t turn the question on Minho, he knows Minho will answer if he wants to, he also knows he’s scared of what Minho might say.
“Could I have made you stay?”
Seungmin feels the stillness of the room all at once, Minho’s finger has ceased its tracing over Seungmin’s skin - it sits. Seungmin isn’t aware of a pulse point where Minho’s finger lays but his blood rushes to meet it, rushes to tell Minho how he feels.
He has thought about Minho every single day that has passed since they were handed their degrees fourteen years ago, on his mind more than anything else, no matter how hard he may have tried to stop. He didn’t want to stop.
“I chose to leave.” Seungmin opts to say.
“I never asked you to stay.”
“It wasn’t on you.”
“Please, Seungmin.” He hears the desperation in Minho’s tone, “Just tell me.”
“No.” He answers, truthfully.
Minho takes a shaky breath and nods, his eyes glassy.
“I was dead set on leaving, nobody could have changed my mind. Not even you.”
The silence stretches towards the edges of the room, spilling over the bed frame, crawling up the half-panelled walls, it’s almost enveloping when Minho speaks again. “I was in love with you, you know?”
Seungmin feels tears well up in his own eyes, fuck. He can’t move, they should move, their position doesn’t suit the conversation. But he worries, as he always does, that when he lets Minho go, it’ll be the last time. He almost laughs; he’s spent his entire life letting Minho go.
“I was a stupid kid.”
“Seungmin,” Minho pauses, struggling with himself to finish the question.
“Minho,” Seungmin can’t ask Minho to not ask the question, but his voice tries to protest.
“Seungmin,” He’s never heard Minho’s voice this small, “did you ever love me back?”
“Yes.” I still do, he doesn’t say.
The laugh Minho lets out is pained, through tears, and incredulous.
minho’s wedding.
The day Seungmin gets the invitation through the door he cries. He wonders how Minho knows his address, he cries. He heats up the weekend’s leftovers, he goes to bed alone, he cries. Two days later he messages the RSVP number to confirm his attendance, and that he won’t need a plus one.
Seungmin watches as they exchange vows, kisses, and speeches. It’s a perfect wedding. He’s happy for Minho, he can’t imagine having any ill-feelings towards him. He’s clearly happy, in love, content. Their first dance is laughably terrible, joy echoes around the room, audible in the squeals of teenage guests, the booming laughter of elderly grandfathers, and Minho’s laugh which sounds above all else.
Seungmin finds himself outside, afraid the misery under his skin will permeate into the atmosphere and he’ll be found out.
Seungmin is thirty-seven years old, he has a solid career, a nice apartment, a few close friends, an enviable baseball trading card collection, and a cat that tolerates him sixty percent of the time.
He shivers, the late spring air turning with the night, cooling Seungmin superficially. His skin is cool but he is scorching underneath in a way that makes him feel sane; Seungmin is real and exists, and his emotions keep him running. He’s spent so much of life trying to explain them away and convince himself he can live without them, that his life will be easier if he pretends they don’t exist.
But now he has nothing left in him except his emotions - the only thing keeping him tied to his body. He’s stood out in the cold at the love of his life’s wedding after he’s spent all his years convincing himself that he doesn’t need to want these things, and if he didn’t have the pure, unadulterated love rushing through his veins in this moment, he doesn’t think he’d ever come back to himself.
They’re simultaneously making him want to cause a scene and stopping him from acting selfishly and ruining Minho’s wedding - the happiest day of his life. How could he even think about jeopardising the happiest day of Minho’s life - the man he has loved for nineteen years.
“I figured you’d be bald by now.”
Seungmin smiles and turns to face Minho, “Hello to you too.”
“It’s cold as balls, why are you out here?” Minho’s breath comes out in puffs, as if accentuating his point.
“Just thinking.”
“You’ll spend your entire life thinking if you’re not careful, Seungminnie.”
“Why are you out here?”
“Rounding up strays.” Minho smiles.
“Today was beautiful, thanks for inviting me - I’m happy for you two.” Seungmin gives the classic wedding thank-yous.
“Oh, I’ve heard that one before.” Minho laughs, “But thanks, I’m really glad you could make it.”
“I’ll be back inside in a moment, go back to your party - the dance floor looks empty without you.” Seungmin shoos him towards the doors. “And give my wishes to the groom.”
“Don’t shoo me,” Minho feigns annoyance, “Oh I’m going to be such a bitch at your wedding.”
“I’m having a wedding? When?” Seungmin laughs, almost pushing Minho back into the party.
Minho resists for another moment, one hand on the door, “Just - don’t be a stranger, yeah?”
Seungmin doesn’t respond and Minho re-enters the party, where he’s almost immediately swept up into a dance battle with his husband. Seungmin watches for a moment, basking in the infectious glee before turning to leave.
reunion.
“This is the worst night of my life.”
“You’ve lived forty-three years, and this is the worst night of your life?” Seungmin asks, incredulous.
“All my worst nights involve you in some way or another, so it’s unsurprising.” Minho throws back.
“Ouch.” Seungmin clutches his chest.
Minho rolls his eyes and orders another drink. “You were the one who wanted to leave this place behind you - don’t act like you’re above me here.”
“And yet, here we are.” Seungmin clinks their glasses, “You know that asshole doesn’t even remember outing me?”
“Why didn’t you invite me to your wedding?”
It shouldn’t catch Seungmin off-guard, but it does.
“I really am sorry. The simple answer is that it was a small wedding, and I didn’t have any of your information.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “The harder answer is that I probably wasn’t ready to see you - be it there or in my life in general. I think I would have ruined my own marriage before it had a chance - I needed it to work.”
“Damn, you really have grown up.” Minho responds, surprised, but not unhappy.
Minho didn’t question his story - if he did he’d have told Seungmin he’d left his information scrawled on a hotel-branded notebook after their seventh wedding - and made himself scarce before Seungmin had stepped out of the shower. Seungmin would have had to tell him he hadn’t seen it.
“Only took me twenty-five years.” Seungmin smiles.
“It’s probably a good job you didn’t have my information, I’d probably have done something stupid - like married you.”
They let that statement hang for a moment, almost too long, both happy they can finally admit these thoughts to each other.
“It’s a shame we weren’t forty-three year old men back then, huh? Teenagers are stupid.” Minho fills the silence when Seungmin doesn’t.
“You were stupid in your twenties and thirties.” Seungmin teases.
“Shut up, dog.” Minho messes up his hair.
“It’s funny, this whole mess started because I thought we should stay friends, and we didn’t even do that.”
“Funny.” Minho echoes, because that is the last word any sane person would use to describe them, “We were always better at being friends. We could’ve set the world alight you know?”
“Cheesy.” Seungmin snorts, pushing away from the bar towards an old teacher he’s surprised is still alive.
***
Minho catches him again a couple of hours later in the parking lot as everybody is leaving.
“I know if I say ‘don’t be a stranger’, I probably won’t see you for another ten years, but just - don’t wait ‘til we’re dropped at the nursing home together, yeah?”
“You don’t think a widows’ wedding at the nursing home would be really romantic?”
“You can joke but me and my husband do have a widows pact - so expect that phone call in forty years time.”
“I’d be honoured.”