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Minhee is the one who picks him up the day he gets discharged. Not his parents, who just saw him two weeks ago on his last day off, but Minhee, in a nice silver car that Seongmin had never seen before. You’re getting discharged tomorrow, right? Minhee texted the night before. I’ll come to pick you up. No destination.
Minhee gets out of the car when he sees Seongmin coming over. He stops when they’re two feet apart to give him a salute, but once Seongmin returns it, Minhee gives him a quick hug.
“Good to have you back.” Minhee says, eyes glittering when he pulls away. He smells like expensive cologne and has for a while now. Seongmin couldn’t pinpoint when it happened but the air of distinction follows Minhee around in that swirling smell, like new leather and lavish bouquets.
“It’s nice to be back.” Seongmin returns. He smiles at Minhee, in a way he hasn’t for a while.
They get into the car and buckle up. Seongmin’s uniform crinkles. He’s thinking about how quickly he can get home and get changed—camo doesn’t suit him. Camo doesn’t suit anyone.
“Do you like the car?” Minhee turns the keys in the ignition. The car comes to life with a soft rumble and the lights on the dashboard blink awake. Fancy.
“It’s nice.” Seongmin looks at the interior. It seems to suit Minhee, all sleek and modern, and elegant. “Is it yours?”
Minhee nods, pulling out of the parking spot. “I got it only two months ago.”
Seongmin looks outside the window as Minhee starts to drive away from the training center. The military compound where he has spent most of his enlistment is starting to look smaller in the distance. He’ll never come back— he doesn’t have a reason to. This feeling is familiar; like the last time he walked out of Starship Entertainment. Some parts melancholy, some parts bitterness, but overwhelming relief.
“How was it? I told you it wasn’t that bad, right?” Minhee doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but he uses one hand to fiddle with the music controls. “Time goes by quickly in there.”
Seongmin watches Minhee turn on the radio with one hand. “I managed.” He hits a random radio station. “I’m glad it’s over.”
Minhee laughs a little. “Now we’re all done.” We. The invisible others who aren’t here with them.
Seongmin stares at the road ahead. They’re on the highway, with mostly trees and hills to both sides. The road back to Seoul might take another while.
The radio host is talking about stocks. Minhee changes the radio station, now to one that’s playing some pop music, something from at least a decade ago.
“Thanks for coming to pick me up,” Seongmin says. “I hope you weren’t busy.”
Minhee always seems busy, with a new project or other coming out these days after his enlistment. If Seongmin were to pick the member that would come pick him up from the camp, it wouldn’t have been Minhee. Minhee wouldn’t even have cracked the top three.
It made Seongmin a little suspicious, but then he started feeling guilty about being suspicious of Minhee trying to do something nice.
“It’s nothing.” Minhee glances over at him, the corner of his lip twitching like there’s something he wants to add. Seongmin’s suspicion comes back— they have lived together for almost seven years, known each other for almost twice as long and Minhee has never been a good liar.
Seongmin brushes it off for now. “How long has it been since we saw each other?”
Minhee, Serim, and Jungmo came to see him most recently, during one of his vacations. But Seongmin can’t seem to remember exactly when it was, only that they all had barbeque together and Serim got a bit emotional when they had to go. Seongmin hugged all of them goodbye but Serim held on the longest and sniffled a little when he let go. Be healthy, okay? Serim said. His eyes said more.
Minhee hums, in thought. It was the first time Seongmin saw Minhee after Minhee was discharged because Seongmin had left while Minhee was enlisting. It was strange seeing Minhee’s hair still cropped short but dressed in his now-usual designer wear.
“It’s been almost three months, huh?” Minhee sighs, almost uncharacteristically heavily. “Sorry, it’s just that I—”
“Don’t apologize.” Seongmin interrupts him quickly. “I’m just… happy to see you again, hyung.” He’s been using hyung more sparingly now, because the older they get, the less their age gap seems to matter. But it still comes out, out of habit.
Minhee glances down at the steering wheel for a second, before looking back at the road, something far away. There’s something distant in his expression, but Seongmin can’t tell if it’s new, if he’s always like this.
The song fades out and a new song starts. When the first few beats start to play, Seongmin feels all his muscles tense up in reaction. It’s time to get that adrenaline going, Taeyoung says over the car speakers. It’s not that Seongmin had never heard a Cravity song in public but the timing of it is scary— Seongmin feels his fingers and legs twitch in response like his body is itching to move to the music despite the way he feels.
What he feels is anxiety, like he’s been pushed on stage and the music has started even though he hasn’t changed, hasn’t warmed up his voice, and hasn't rehearsed the song in over two years.
He turns to Minhee.
Minhee is bopping his head along to the song, fingers drumming on the steering wheel with an easy expression. He glances over at Seongmin.
“Adrenaline,” Minhee sings to his part, nodding at Seongmin to continue the part after him. If he notices anything off about Seongmin, he doesn’t say anything.
“...One shot of adrenaline,” Seongmin mumbles along. This was his part. It still is, really. Who could take that away from him?
They sit in silence for the rest of the song, Minhee nodding along and Seongmin sitting completely still.
When the song is over and the next one comes on, something neither of them really knows or remembers, Seongmin unclenches his jaw. Minhee uses one hand to turn down the volume of the radio, the voices draining out of the air.
“There’s something for you in the glove compartment.” Minhee says quietly. He looks calm but Seongmin starts to feel dread. He knows Minhee well enough to know that this serious tone is more ominous than anything else.
Seongmin reaches for the glove box and opens it. There’s a pearl-colored envelope. To Seongminnie, it says on the front. The handwriting is clear but not neat, like someone trying to write each stroke with careful precision, someone afraid to mess up the characters of Seongmin’s name. There is only one person Seongmin knows that writes like this.
He glances at Minhee, who doesn’t look back at him. So this is why.
Seongmin fishes it out of the glove box, closing it shut. There’s no stamp on it. Seongmin tears it open carefully from the back but the paper rips unevenly.
There’s a piece of white card and a folded paper note. Seongmin takes out the card first. It’s all in English but Seongmin can read the important part, written at the top in fancy calligraphy and blood red ink— Allen & Joan. He glances through the small printed English below it, knowing it’ll go mostly over his head. There’s an address, a date for a week from now. Seongmin feels numb.
Seongmin slides it back into the envelope delicately. He unfolds the note. It’s the same handwriting as the one on the envelope front, all careful and clear but never tidy, all the characters looking unpracticed and jutting out at strange angles.
When Seongmin finishes reading the note, he folds it back up and slips it into the envelope.
“Taeyoung’s already in L.A.,” Minhee says, eyes still fixed on the road. “Wonjin-hyung, Jungmo-hyung, and Hyeongjun are in Japan so they’ll meet us there, but the rest of us are leaving together the day before,” he shifts in the driver’s seat, “If you want to come with us.”
Minhee leaves the invitation open like he already knows Seongmin would try to put up a fight against going before succumbing— because there is no other alternative to going.
Seongmin decides to look out of the window instead, at the outskirts of Seoul that they’re approaching now. Maybe he shouldn’t have left the camp.
Inside there, nothing seemed to be able to really touch him; the outside world seemed more like a foreign place that he learned about second-hand, through texts and calls and the news rather than real experience. That’s how Seongmin learned about the engagement. The guy two bunks over from his nudged him that morning to tell him congratulations, and when he saw Seongmin’s puzzled expression, he pulled up a news article. Cravity’s Allen announces engagement to non-celebrity girlfriend in Los Angeles. Seongmin doesn’t remember the whole week after that because he spent it in a daze, drifting from task to task and sleeping through dreamless nights.
They pull up to Seongmin’s parents’ house. Seongmin doesn’t ask how Minhee knows where his parents lived, or whether Minhee knew Seongmin’s actual address now.
“I’ll text you the flight details.” Minhee says as Seongmin starts to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Tell me if you’re not going to come by tomorrow or Woobin-hyung will kill both of us.”
“Thanks for picking me up.” It comes out almost mechanically. “I was so happy to see you after a long time, hyung.” Seongmin doesn’t force a smile.
Minhee looks directly at him. “Seongmin, I really do hope you come with us.” It’s unnerving to see Minhee so serious because Minhee is only serious when their livelihoods are on the line. Now all Seongmin wants is for Minhee to stop looking like that, his eyebrows frowning and his eyes pleading.
“I’ll think about it, okay?” Seongmin mutters.
Minhee eases, knowing he’s won the battle. “See you at the airport.”
The airport is a reunion of its own. Woobin and Serim greet him with crushing hugs, both of them apologizing for not being able to come to pick him up with Minhee. Woobin gives his hair a ruffle, makes a comment about how short it is, and Serim asks him if he’s been eating enough and if his muscles have gotten bigger. For a moment, Seongmin feels like a kid again, doted on by his hyungs. He feels like a kid again, sitting in the same airport lounge where he used to try and finish his homework in between flights.
“We’re only in L.A. for the wedding and we’re flying back right after because Serim has to be back in time for his radio show,” he says as they’re boarding, “But you can stay there longer if you want, I’m sure you could stay with Taeyoung.”
Seongmin rolls his eyes. “I think I’d rather sleep on the streets than share a room with Taeyoung again.” He’d rather not share a room with anyone again if he could help it.
Woobin laughs like he hasn’t laughed in months. “I’m sure that’s not the only option.”
Seongmin takes the seat next to Serim on the plane. After trial and error over the years, he’s found that Serim is the best person to sit next to on a long flight because he’s not very chatty and sleeps through most of it. Better than being pestered by Wonjin for thirteen hours.
Just as he predicted, Serim falls asleep in the first hour, and Seongmin follows his example.
They arrive in the early evening. Taeyoung had picked up the others coming in from Japan and now they were on the way to this nice western place that Allen had picked out for them, a room for themselves somewhere more lowkey.
When Seongmin walks in with the others from Seoul, everyone makes a fuss, chairs creaking and the sound of smacks on the back and oh, I missed you, hyung, all filling up the room. Seongmin lets himself get swept up in it too, letting Wonjin give him a hug and Jungmo squeeze his hand tight. It’s been a while since he has felt like this, just swimming in the love and warmth in the room, feeling all of it wash over him. Times like this, Seongmin feels grateful— maybe it had all meant something, the years they’ve poured into this bond together, all the pain and the strife.
Seongmin looks for someone in the room and finds him missing.
Taeyoung comes up to him and smiles. It’s all he has to do.
“Allen-hyung says he’ll be late with all the wedding prep.” Taeyoung says softly as they close in on a hug.
They never really hugged much back then. They cared in other ways; taking off each other’s makeup when they’re too tired to do it themselves, putting meat on each other’s plates when they go to a barbeque place, and even bickering is affection between them. You don’t fight if you don’t care.
Now Seongmin takes in the hug, in a way he didn’t with the others. He feels like he’s finally home, feeling Taeyoung’s back under his hands and inhaling his shampoo. Then he lets go.
“I see.”
“I know you miss him.” Taeyoung is still smiling, but it’s tinged with sadness now.
Seongmin swallows, then smiles. “I missed all of you.”
Taeyoung nods like he buys Seongmin’s words but his eyes know otherwise.
They all finally sit down and get to ordering the food, Woobin trying to brag that he still knows all of them well by rattling off their food preferences. Seongmin is sandwiched between Jungmo and Minhee at the introvert’s side of the table. On one hand, he’s thankful he doesn’t have Hyeongjun yelling in his ear but on the other hand, he knows Serim has strategically sat him there as a buffer between Jungmo and Minhee.
Seongmin thinks he deserves it, at least a bit, when he feels Jungmo glancing past him at Minhee and the opposite happens a minute later. This is some sort of karmic punishment, being shoved between the two with the most unresolved sexual tension. He catches Serim’s gaze by accident, who only gives him a pitying smile.
“Our Seongminnie, you just got discharged, right?” Woobin says loudly.
“Yeah, Minhee picked me up,” Seongmin huffs. “He’s the only one who came and that’s why he’s my favorite hyung.” For extra measure, he throws an arm around Minhee’s shoulder and sticks his tongue out. Woobin gasps in mock horror.
“Wow.” Hyeongjun retorts playfully. “I was in a whole other country, it’s not like I could’ve just driven down to get you!”
“And were you working in Japan?” Seongmin raises an eyebrow. Minhee snickers next to him. It was Minhee who had tipped him off that Hyeongjun was on some “self-discovery” trip in Japan rather than working like Jungmo and Wonjin were.
Hyeongjun looks affronted, but Wonjin butts in. “It’s a lie anyway. Minhee isn't even his favorite hyung, to begin with.” Wonjin leans in like he’s telling a secret. “His favorite hyung is Allen, everyone knows that.” It’s not a very good secret if everybody knows it.
Seongmin only scoffs. “And now you’ll never be my favorite hyung.”
Wonjin feigns a shot to the chest and Hyeongjun plays into the joke, trying to resuscitate him, while Woobin laughs along. Seongmin makes eye contact with Taeyoung; he gives Seongmin a smile, a reminder for Seongmin to do the same.
It turns out Allen misses dinner altogether, but he suggests they stop for drinks at a nearby Korean bar and he’ll rush over.
The table becomes littered with soju bottles and an empty pitcher of beer only about half an hour later. Seongmin had limited himself to a glass of beer but the others have apparently let loose. Jungmo seems like the only other one who’s mostly sober, from the way Hyeongjun and Woobin are squealing incomprehensible nonsense at each other and Serim is grabbing onto Taeyoung’s sleeve like it’s the only thing grounding him.
Seongmin had been catching up quietly with Jungmo until Minhee came over, almost stumbling after just half a bottle of soju. That’s when Seongmin finishes off his beer and heads over to the bar for more because if he has to deal with whatever is going on with Jungmo and Minhee, he might as well do it with more liquor in him.
“One peach soju, please.” Seongmin says, leaning at the bar counter. The bartender nods, turning to the fridge to grab a bottle and place it in front of him. Seongmin’s unscrewing the cap when he hears someone come up from behind him.
“Peach soju, huh? You really haven’t changed.”
Seongmin turns in slow motion.
Allen is there. He’s in a button-up shirt and proper slacks with sensible shoes and if Allen had introduced himself as an ordinary salaryman, Seongmin almost would’ve believed it. The only reason he can’t is that Allen would never be ordinary to him.
“Hyung,” Seongmin says softly. This is the moment he’s been waiting for after so long, the Allen he thinks of every April 26th, the Allen that comes back in his dreams, stepping out of his memories.
Then he hugs Allen, holding onto him for a beat longer than he should. It all comes flooding back. Allen, all gentle and kind, real in his arms. He smells like fresh laundry and clean cotton, a purifying presence that makes Seongmin feel all clean again. For a moment, Allen is his alone.
Seongmin doesn’t want to let go.
Allen pulls away first, but he does it gently. “Seongminnie,” Allen says, and his eyes well up the way his mom’s did when she sent him off to the military. “I missed you a lot.”
The Korean sounds clunky out of his mouth, maybe out of disuse, maybe out of emotion. But it only takes one look at the way Allen’s round eyes are gleaming with sincerity for Seongmin to know it’s both.
“I missed you too.” Seongmin mumbles, swallowing down the lump in his throat and all the things he can’t bear to say out loud. He glances across the room to where Hyeongjun, Minhee, and Woobin are singing together to some old song. “You should say hi to the others.” Seongmin doesn’t want Allen to go but he’s saying it to be fair to the others. He reminds himself that there are others, others who are not him and Allen, others who still matter to Allen.
“I should,” Allen nods, eyes never leaving Seongmin. “But I wanted to say hi to you first.”
Something pinches in Seongmin’s chest and it hurts. Everything Allen says hurts in the worst way— because they’re not meant to.
Seongmin smiles, trying to dig out what Cravity’s Seongmin, nineteen-year-old Seongmin, would say. That version of himself has been packed away like a winter jacket that’s too small, in the far corner of the closet and now Seongmin is on his hands and knees looking for it.
“Of course,” Seongmin says triumphantly. He feels bigger, swelling with the arrogance of a teenager. “I’m your favorite.” The words feel too small for what he’s feeling like he’s squeezing them in and yanking at the zipper.
Allen smiles, eyes crinkling fondly. “Of course.” Seongmin wants to believe him, that Seongmin is his favorite, but Seongmin’s name isn’t the one next to Allen’s on the wedding invitations.
When Allen goes towards the group hollering for him, Taeyoung comes to replace him.
“Cheers?” Taeyoung clinks his bottle of beer against Seongmin’s soju.
“Cheers.” Seongmin echoes, before taking a big gulp.
“Serim-hyung seems to get clingier every time I see him.” Taeyoung sighs. “He would not let go,” Seongmin remembers seeing Serim clutching at Taeyoung’s sleeves earlier and talking about the old days, while Taeyoung slings a comforting arm around his shoulder. As much as they liked to make fun of him, they still had to take care of their poor hyung who only got softer and sappier over the years.
“I know.”
Seongmin takes another sip of soju, the sweet peach flavor going down easy.
Taeyoung lets a moment of silence hang between them before cutting through it. He could never stand the silence, never sit in it the way Seongmin could.
“Do you want me to show you around tomorrow morning? I’m sure some of the others will be dealing with a hangover but we can go do… something.”
“Yeah.” Seongmin mumbles. “Sure.” Seongmin knows something will be whatever Seongmin wants to do but he doesn’t want to think about it. He’ll just let Taeyoung drag him around, wherever. He doesn’t feel like talking. His eyes dart over to where Wonjin is laughing and punching Allen’s arm, the rest of them crowded around the two.
“Just us two tomorrow, okay?” Taeyoung sounds like he’s faking his enthusiasm, which means he’s concerned, but this isn’t the time or place to talk and they both know it.
Seongmin takes another drink of soju instead of answering him.
When the bottle is empty, Allen comes back to him. This time, Seongmin feels hot, and everything is overwhelming, all big and swirling around him. He feels small again after all the swelling has gone down.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Seongmin fidgets with the pink soju cap. “My tolerance isn’t as low as Minhee’s.” Minhee only had two beers but he is already dancing around with Hyeongjun in a way that could best be described as drunken fumbling.
Allen hums. “You still like peach soju?” It’s been Seongmin’s favorite flavor of soju ever since he grabbed it off the shelf of a convenience store. He liked other ones, but the peach one seems to taste better somehow.
Seongmin nods, looking up at Allen. There’s a nostalgic look in Allen’s eyes like he’s seeing a different, younger Seongmin when he’s looking at him— the Seongmin curled up in his lap on the ground, drunk for the very first time after sneaking alcohol into his room.
“Did you ever tell anyone about that day?” Allen says softly like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear this. Seongmin leans in, only stopping before he’s almost nose-to-nose with Allen.
“No,” Seongmin whispers back. “Did you?” He doesn’t know why he asked— he could never bear it if Allen said yes, if Allen had told Serim or one of the other members years later, if Allen had told anyone at all.
Allen shakes his head and he starts to smile, a small knowing one.
Wonjin’s right; Allen is his favorite hyung, but not because he’s the nicest or doted on Seongmin the most. Allen is his favorite because he’s the only one Seongmin trusted in that way, the only one he could have given a part of himself to. The fact that Allen liked him the most is just a bonus.
Allen grins. “I guess it’s still our secret.” Our secret. Seongmin feels his throat clench. The secret that still binds them, one of the many roots entangling them together. Is there even a way out?
“After all these years…” Seongmin trails off. He doesn’t know where the sentence is going. Allen is looking at him expectantly, wide eyes blinking slowly. Everything is melting altogether. After all these years, you’ve never told anyone? After all these years, you’re still my favorite hyung. After all these years, I still…
Taeyoung barrels over like he has a sixth sense that Seongmin’s about to say something he can’t take back. “Seongminnie,” he sings cutely. “We need to get Serim-hyung and Woobin-hyung all back to the hotel before they pass out.” Seongmin doesn’t know whether to thank him or yell at him.
“Oh dear.” Allen sighs, turning towards Taeyoung. “I’ll help. Which hotel are they staying in?” The moment passes and Seongmin watches from his seat as Allen and Taeyoung turn their backs to him, heading over to the other table.
Seongmin wakes up to Taeyoung knocking furiously on his hotel door.
“Come on,” he says when Seongmin begrudgingly lets him in. “Let’s go sightseeing.”
Taeyoung is already energized, flinging Seongmin’s curtains open to see the view and let the sunlight in. Seongmin swore that the last time they shared a room would be the last time and that was five years ago.
Seongmin yawns, shifting through his luggage for a change of clothes. He can put up with it, just for today, because he can see the way Taeyoung is fretting by the window, his anxiousness spilling out all over the floor.
“Only if we can get breakfast first.”
They get breakfast at a small American diner nearby, just something light and a coffee to help wake Seongmin up. The unfortunate effect of starting a caffeine addiction early is that it gets harder to kick it. They take a selfie together and send it to the group chat, which nobody will be checking for another hour at least. Seongmin posts a picture of the view on his Instagram story and tags Taeyoung; it’ll be enough to get the fans going.
“How are you?” Taeyoung asks, sipping from his own coffee. Seongmin knows he doesn’t want to hear that Seongmin is fine. They don’t have the time to chat, not when Seongmin is flying back to Seoul tomorrow night— they have to get right to it.
“Still getting used to things after getting discharged.” Seongmin settles for a neutral answer, a truth but not the one he knows Taeyoung wants to talk about.
“It’s weird, right? I’m thinking about dyeing my hair, red maybe.” Taeyoung laughs, running a hand through his own hair that’s still growing back out. He got discharged only a month before Seongmin but the first thing he did was hop on a flight to LA and not look back. The most Taeyoung thing Seongmin could think of. “But hey, you’re done.”
Seongmin nods, finishing his coffee. The waitress comes by and refills it. That’s a nice perk with American diners; coffee refills.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it.” Taeyoung leans back. He’s not letting go of this one. “But if you don’t, I’m scared you’re going to explode.”
“Explode?” Seongmin scoffs.
“I don’t want to see you like that.” It sounds too raw out of Taeyoung’s mouth, too genuine for their stupid banter.
Taeyoung doesn’t look at him much differently, just head tilted and looking back at Seongmin with knowing eyes. The last time Taeyoung looked at him like that, they were sitting in the Starship Entertainment conference room for the last time.
Seongmin wants him to stop, just like how he wanted Minhee to stop looking at him with those pitiful eyes. He sighs. As much as he wants to believe that he’s not susceptible to his members’ expressions, he’s not.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Our Allen-hyung is getting married and I’m happy for him. What else is there to it?” What else is there? Another change in the never-ending cycle of changes, a new chapter.
Taeyoung doesn’t say anything, just waits for him to continue.
Seongmin grips the handle of his coffee mug. “I had some silly crush on him who knows how many years ago. Fine. I’m over it now. I’m fine.” The lies come out as easily as the truth.
Taeyoung sighs. He knows better than to try and unspool every lie out of Seongmin’s mouth because they’d be here for another hour. “You bawled your eyes out when he started dating his first girlfriend. Minhee had to talk you out of plotting their breakup.” It sounds all jokey and silly when Taeyoung says it now but it felt real at the time; Seongmin remembers being scolded the next day for turning up to practice with puffy eyes and a sore throat, the way his heart squeezed and ached when Allen would come home after a date. The first time was the worst, all the yearning, the anger, and the pain, wrapped up in one punch.
“That was like nine years ago.” Seongmin rolls his eyes. He’s not exactly proud of that moment. “So what?”
“This wasn’t a silly crush,” Taeyoung says, no hint of a joke in his words this time. “I look at old videos and pictures of you and him and I look at you with him now— there’s no difference in the way you look at him.”
Seongmin takes another sip of coffee.
“I worry about you.” Taeyoung tilts his head a little like he’s so wise and he isn’t just over six months older than Seongmin. “This isn’t just Allen-hyung dating some random girl we’re not going to remember in two years. He’s getting married.” The word married has a weight to it now; it hits like a brick to Seongmin’s head.
“I know that.” Seongmin snaps back. This is what he hates most about seeing everyone again. Everyone looks at him like that, like he’s still seventeen and stupid, like it hasn’t been twelve years. “I’m a grown adult, give me some credit.”
Taeyoung takes a deep breath to compose himself. “I’m here if you need me, you know?” It says a lot that Taeyoung doesn’t fight back with him on this one. Seongmin sighs at the sickeningly sweet words.
“I know.” He downs the rest of his coffee. “Are we going sightseeing or not?”
Taeyoung pulls out a vlog camera at some point and films the two of them walking around town for a vlog on his youtube channel. Sometimes when he’s feeling nostalgic, Seongmin watches one of Taeyoung’s monthly vlogs of him trying some new activity or exploring some new destination. The vlogs are more like recordings narrated by him, like he sets the camera down and gets so caught up in it that he forgets to add commentary until later.
Seongmin smiles for the camera and it’s easier to forget about the conversation they had earlier or the wedding they’re about to head to when there’s a camera in front of him. This is his job, the thing he knows how to do best, maybe even better than Taeyoung. At least Seongmin is talking to the audience in the gaps when they’re walking from destination to destination.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Just hold the camera and stay here for a second.” Taeyoung says, before handing the equipment over.
Seongmin grins up at the camera. “Hello, Youngwons.” He twists the camera a little, leaning in close in the way he knew the fans loved to see, the way it makes his eyes sparkle. “I’ll tell you guys something I won’t tell Taeyoung— I missed him a lot.” Seongmin sighs, looking into the blinking red light. He can never be as honest with anyone as he is in front of the camera; there are things he can only say into the void of the wide lenses looking back at him. At least the camera wouldn’t laugh in his face; at least someone will know the truth, even if it’s not Taeyoung.
Taeyoung taps him on the back. “I’ll take over.” Seongmin hands the camera back quickly like he was sick of waiting.
“I was wondering how long you were going to take,” Seongmin huffs, before shooting the camera a little wink.
Taeyoung turns off the vlog camera when they get to a scenic spot, a pretty set of stairs where Seongmin makes him take a bunch of pictures for Instagram. It feels like it’s just the two of them, exploring the city together on a trip. Nobody pays any attention to them and it’s one of the few moments that Seongmin feels normal. But normal doesn’t mean he feels good; he feels like he’s drowning in the sea of people, a lost face sinking into its depths. People like them, they’re not meant to feel normal or ordinary.
They sit together at the bottom of the stairs, Seongmin scrolling through the pictures and picking out the ones he wants to post. The routine is almost comforting, like a buoy he could hold onto. He glances at Taeyoung next to him, who’s looking at the people walking past them on the street with an indifferent, faraway expression.
“Which one do you think is better for the first picture?” Seongmin shows him three options. In the first one, he’s just standing, in the second, he holds up a peace sign, and in the third, he’s making a heart with his fingers. All of them are fine, really, but Seongmin prides himself on curating the best Instagram feed, and the details are important.
Taeyoung’s eyes seem to glaze over when Seongmin turns the phone towards him. “Uh, the second one.”
“See, I was thinking about the second one but I also like the third one—”
“Don’t you ever get tired?” Taeyoung sighs, making eye contact with Seongmin. There’s something that seems to flash through his eyes, then he seems to change his mind, turning away.
“Tired of what?” Seongmin looks back at his phone, favoriting the second picture. Maybe he won’t post the first one.
“All this shit,” Taeyoung mutters, gesturing at the phone. It’s almost bizarre to hear him swear; the PG-13 censorship was drilled into them so hard that it was simply easier to never swear in case they slipped up on camera.
Seongmin sighs, turning off his phone and fully facing Taeyoung. “It’s work, you know.” This is not exactly unusual; all of them get sick of this life sometimes when everything on their backs feels too heavy and they need an escape. Seongmin himself thinks about it sometimes, but not as much as Taeyoung does.
“Is it?” Taeyoung says quietly. “It feels like our whole lives are work.”
“We do what we love for work, and we do what we love for life. I think it’s a pretty sweet deal.” It feels like an interview answer but it’s true. Seongmin might not wake up for six am call times with a smile but hell if he’s not thankful every day just to have a career.
Taeyoung closes his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky. He looks like he’s waiting for rain, for a sign, for salvation. “I don’t even know if I love it anymore.” It comes out like a confession, one Seongmin doesn’t know if he’s meant to hear.
“Maybe you need a break?” Seongmin knows as well as Taeyoung that there are no such things as breaks for them, but the alternative is worse. “Take a vacation. Go somewhere warm, I hear Thailand is nice—”
“No, Seongmin.”
Taeyoung looks back at him, this time with a graveness that’s unlike him. Then he looks at the ground with violent intent.
“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have expected you to understand.” Bitter.
It touches something sensitive in Seongmin’s nerves. “What? What don’t I understand?”
They’re supposed to be equals, but Seongmin hates the way Taeyoung would treat him sometimes like there’s a gap between them, that Taeyoung is so much older. He’s reminded of every other time he’s ever pestered Taeyoung about a secret or some gossip; sometimes he relents, sometimes he doesn’t, locking up his lips and throwing the key away.
Taeyoung doesn’t answer right away. “Tell me.” Seongmin pushes. His temper has gotten better over the years, but he still pushes.
Taeyoung sighs like it’s simple and obvious. “If I go on vacation, it’ll just be another destination vlog. If I go home, it becomes a hometown vlog. Hell, I can’t even spend a day walking around with you without turning it into a vlog.” He clenches his fists. “That’s the worst part about this; I hate all of this but I can’t stop myself from doing it.” Taeyoung’s talking fast, the way he does when he’s really starting to get angry.
Seongmin stays quiet. They’ve been each other’s confidants for so long that they know when there’s more, or when it’s done.
“I turn my life into a vlog and I sell it.” Taeyoung glares at the ground like it’s responsible. “I sell my life, I sell my voice, I sell my body, I sell everything I have, and what do I have left? Do I even have anything that really belongs to me?” His anger gives way to deep sadness, an anguish flooding his big eyes. Seongmin can sense it, the way it goes deep down, its roots overgrown and ready to burst through Taeyoung’s skin.
Seongmin reaches for Taeyoung’s hand. He knows it might not be what Taeyoung wants or needs, but it’s all Seongmin has to offer. “There are lots of people who love you, who want to see you do well, who trust you, and even though you’re giving so much of yourself away, isn’t their love worth it? Don’t you trust them?”
Seongmin divides himself up carefully. There are parts of him he gives out to the crowd; there are some only for himself. He knows where the lines are because he drew them himself.
Taeyoung only looks at the ground, so Seongmin continues. “Their love belongs to you.” Isn’t it a wonderful thing? To be loved? That’s what Seongmin lives on; the love of the masses, the enduring, the selflessness. He eats it for breakfast, between lunch and dinner, late at night when everyone else is asleep. “Do you not want that?” Seongmin couldn’t picture a life without this kind of love. He has never known it.
Taeyoung doesn’t close his fingers around Seongmin’s hand, just letting it lay there over his. A silence settles between them, longer than any silence they’ve ever had.
The clouds drift through the sky above them. The blue between the clouds grows.
Taeyoung sighs at last. “That’s the difference between us, Seongmin.”
They don’t look at each other. He holds Seongmin’s hand and laces their fingers together anyway, but Seongmin can feel the insincerity of it, the way the gap between them widens. Regret seeps out of his voice, as does the disappointment and the ache; the pain of having tried, the pain of it not being enough.
“Their love is enough for you.”
Someone calls, Taeyoung’s phone buzzing with an urgency that wakes them from their trance, calling them back to work— to life.
“Yo,” Taeyoung picks up, his voice sounding cheery once more. “What’s up?” Seongmin cranes his neck to listen until Taeyoung turns on the speakerphone. This is the way Seongmin and Taeyoung’s fights and conversations end; all sweet smiles and cooperative sunshine a minute later, because their fights only belong to the two of them but they belong to the rest of the world.
“We’re going to eat some lunch and then you guys need to meet up with us so we can go to the venue together.” Serim’s voice is groggy still like he’d just woken up. Seongmin could almost see him, shuffling into the dorm kitchen with bedhead and rumpled pajamas, flicking the buttons on the coffee maker. “Ruby is already there early as part of the rehearsal.”
“You guys are still at the hotel?” Seongmin pipes in.
“Yeah, I need to get the others up. But let’s just get changed, meet at the lobby and head out together from there.” Serim yawns. “Bye.”
“Okay, hyung.” Taeyoung hangs up, turning to Seongmin. His expression is unreadable. “We should start heading back.”
Seongmin doesn’t answer him; he just starts walking.
They’re all assembled in the lobby in their suits, in varying shades of dark blue as Allen had asked them to dress in. Taeyoung is on the phone trying to get a car for all seven of them, while Serim and Wonjin are splitting a pizza slice. Seongmin just stands there, thinking about how his tie is too tight, the jacket is too big, and his pants are too long. He had begged one of the stylists he worked with to help him find a last-minute suit for this wedding because he didn’t have a suit for himself— he didn’t need one until now.
“Your suit is nice.” Minhee nudges him.
Seongmin snorts. “Don’t flatter me. A friend of a friend pulled this outfit together in three hours.” He looks Minhee up and down, at the designer label on his tie and the way his suit jacket seems to shimmer slightly, giving Minhee his usual air of sophistication. “Your suit is nice.”
“Jungmo-hyung is making me wear it.” Minhee sighs, tugging at his silver cufflinks. “When he got his invite, the first thing he did was to tell me he’ll take care of my suit.” Now that Jungmo is a professional model, he had great connections in the fashion industry, where everyone wanted a piece of Minhee. Jungmo himself included.
Seongmin nods, mostly disinterested. “Allen-hyung sure sent the invitations out late.”
“Well,” Minhee says, stiffening next to Seongmin. “He didn't.”
“I only got mine last week.” Seongmin raises an eyebrow at Minhee. He had been suspicious ever since he realized the date was so soon.
Minhee doesn’t make eye contact with Seongmin. Minhee’s tells are too easy to read. “He didn’t have your address so he sent yours to me, and I wanted to give it to you in person.”
Seongmin feigns offense. “So you waited until the day of my discharge?” He catches a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors hanging in the hotel lobby; he looks put-together in a suit, but his hair is still short and growing back out, his cheeks are a little puffy from the drinking, and he barely feels like himself, just someone dressed up in a bad Ahn Seongmin costume.
“Would you have come if you received the invitation earlier?” Minhee replies quietly. “Or would you have pretended not to see it?”
Seongmin has nothing to say to that.
Minhee puts a hand on Seongmin’s shoulder, their height difference being too big for the gesture not to feel a little patronizing. “It means a lot to him that you’re here.” Minhee is trying to be helpful but all Seongmin can feel is the way his tie is tight like a noose around his neck.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” Seongmin says, and whether it’s the truth, he himself doesn’t know.
They arrive at the venue on time, Woobin coming over to join them. They’re just wedding guests today except for Woobin, who’s performing a song at the reception. Allen’s best man is his brother and the groomsmen are three of Allen’s childhood best friends— that’s what Taeyoung said, anyway. Seongmin hasn’t met them.
“You guys are here early,” Woobin says, glancing around. The chairs are mostly unfilled. “I think it’s mostly Allen’s family and some of the bride’s friends.”
They’re standing by the entrance and it’s so easy to tell who’s part of Allen’s family and who isn’t— everyone who isn’t is gawking at them. After twelve years, Seongmin still forgets that he’s part of a global Korean pop phenomenon sometimes. The staring doesn’t bother him anymore.
Allen’s mom and dad come up to greet them, and even though they’re not Korean, all of the members start to bow out of habit.
“Allen is so happy that you all came, you know?” Allen’s mom says in English, smiling brightly in a sensible, dark gray dress. He gets his smile from his mother. “Thank you for coming.” Seongmin feels a little guilty; he can’t believe he even thought about missing out on this.
“Of course,” Taeyoung replies in English, “we’re so happy for Allen-hyung.” Everyone nods, just relieved that Taeyoung answers for them instead.
Allen’s dad nods, surveying all of them quietly. Allen has that same thoughtful look sometimes when he’s standing back and taking it all in, thinking about what to do next. Seongmin sees Allen in them; that’s why it hurts to look at them for too long.
The other members take it as a cue to start dispersing, Serim muttering something about Chan coming soon. Seongmin hangs back as Taeyoung continues chatting with Allen’s mom, watching them from a few meters away. All the English goes over his head; too fast for him to catch up as he watches Allen’s mom laugh at something Taeyoung says.
They had seen Allen’s parents a handful of times over the years, but they haven’t all gotten close to them except for Taeyoung because of the language barrier. Seongmin thinks about the way his own mother dotes on Allen, packing extra kimchi for him, inviting him over for meals, and just asking about him every time she sees Seongmin. Allen plays along, helping wash dishes and greeting her properly every time he sees her; Allen is the perfect person to bring home to your mother and that was exactly what Seongmin did.
Sometimes I think you spoil Allen more than you spoil me, Seongmin joked once. I like him because he takes good care of you, his mom responded fondly. I like him because you love him.
Seongmin accidentally catches Allen’s mom’s gaze and gives her an awkward smile, a polite nod, before Jungmo walks over to him.
“I feel so awkward standing alone,” Jungmo sighs. That part of Jungmo hasn’t changed— he tends to stick out like a thumb when he stands alone. But there aren’t other options; most people are still socializing and almost everyone is speaking English.
Seongmin glances around the venue. Serim, Hyeongjun, Wonjin, and Chan are chatting in a little huddle, Woobin seems to be rehearsing, Taeyoung is chatting with some of the wedding guests, and Minhee is sitting by himself, in the third row. They have the third row on the groom’s side all to themselves to present a united front, a VIP seat for the ceremony. “Minhee’s sitting over there.” Seongmin points with his chin. “I’m going to go sit—”
“Wait, don’t leave me here.” Jungmo whispers urgently, hooking an arm through Seongmin’s, anchoring himself to Seongmin. He must’ve put on too much cologne because he reeks of it; it smells familiar somehow.
“Just come sit together then,” Seongmin whispers back. “What’s your problem?” Jungmo can be clingy but this is more than usual.
Awkwardness settles over Jungmo’s features, eyes darting between Seongmin and the back of Minhee’s head.
Seongmin looks between the two of them. “Are you serious? I can’t believe Taeyoung is lecturing me about having a silly— Nevermind.” He sighs. “You guys haven’t talked about it?” There has been this thing going on between these two, something unspoken but potent enough that half of the group has picked up on it. Seongmin prefers not to get involved if he could help it, but there doesn’t seem to be a way out of it when they’re all trapped here together.
“We kind of did, last night,” Jungmo mumbles. “But then we got distracted.”
“Distracted?” Seongmin grimaces. “Oh. Please don’t explain.” Jungmo smells like Minhee’s expensive cologne and that’s more than enough of an explanation.
“Either way, we haven’t really talked about it, so it’s awkward. Could you just sit between us for today?” Jungmo’s ears are red, but his eyes are wide and desperate.
Seongmin sighs, tugging Jungmo along as they head towards the seats.
Everyone is seated. The venue is pretty, with all white chairs and a white carpet rolled out on this lawn that Seongmin is fairly certain is artificial. Music starts to play as the bridesmaids and groomsmen walk down the carpet, everyone smiling as they walk to slow piano chords.
Then Allen is walking down the aisle, linking arms with his mother. He’s in a beautiful white suit, all ivory save for the black bowtie around his collar, his bangs hanging modestly over his forehead. Allen looks like a prince and he walks like one too, beaming at all the wedding guests looking at him. He doesn’t have to fake it. This time, Seongmin is a part of the crowd, just another face in the audience when Allen looks out into the seats.
He takes his place by the altar with the officiant, the arch behind him billowing with red ribbons and flowers. He looks picture-perfect. It looks like a movie set and Seongmin’s waiting for the director to say action.
There’s a lull in the music where Allen looks out into the crowd, smiling at someone in the first row— probably his mother— but then his gaze shifts around and lands on Seongmin. Cut, Seongmin wants to scream. Cut the cameras. Allen’s eyes soften when he looks at Seongmin and there’s something in them, a message, if only Seongmin could decipher it—
The music starts up again, this time in the familiar tune of the wedding march. Allen looks away, straightens himself up, and smiles. Seongmin can’t bring himself to do the same.
The bride comes down the aisle, the first time Seongmin has seen her outside of pictures on Allen’s Instagram and vacation photos that he sends to the group chat. She looks beautiful. The dress must be designer if the way Jungmo gasps happily at the sight of it is any indication. She floats down the aisle, her father leading her, a big lively bouquet in her hands.
Allen looks taken by her as she takes her place across from him. He's smiling, and there’s a tenderness in his eyes like his heart is the bouquet in her hands, and he could keep smiling, even if she were to crush it. Seongmin has seen this expression before— when it was directed at himself, on quiet nights when Seongmin’s nestled against him in his bunk, in the ten seconds right as they go on stage when he grabs Seongmin’s hand, at the airport three years ago when Seongmin was sending him off to LA.
The officiant starts talking in English, something that goes in one of Seongmin’s ears and out the other. He only watches Allen and his smile as the officiant talks, until it’s her turn to say the vows. Allen beams as she says her little speech, her voice wavering and almost tearing. Seongmin can hear Serim sniffling two seats down; he’d already started crying, to nobody’s surprise.
Then it’s Allen’s turn and Seongmin tries his best to understand, to follow him where he goes.
“Ever since I first met you, I knew that there was something different about you that drew me to you. I felt like you could see me for who I really am and that I could see you for who you truly are— and I fell in love with you.” Allen says, slowly but steadily.
Seongmin becomes faintly aware that Jungmo is clutching at his sleeve, but it all feels far away when Allen’s face is the only thing Seongmin can see.
“I not only respect and love you, but I want to share a life with you. I want to be by your side, be there for you through everything.” There’s a tear that makes its way down Allen’s cheek, but no finger to wipe it away. “I will love and honor you, always.”
Minhee is holding his hand. Jungmo is gripping his other arm. Allen is exchanging rings with the bride now, sliding a ring with a glittering yellow jewel onto her finger as she slips a thick silver band onto Allen’s. Seongmin feels like he’s watching a movie but he’s held in place by both sides, strapped down for this torture.
Seongmin has watched enough English dramas to know how this part goes. “You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant says. Everything seems to slow; the music, the swaying of the trees above them, Seongmin’s heartbeat.
Allen leans in to kiss her. Seongmin bears witness.
Then people are clapping and cheering, the music picks up again, and everything is moving around Seongmin. Minhee squeezes his hand. The sound of leaves rustling fills Seongmin’s ears; all white noise. Everything is ending, winding down, and coming to a close, and Seongmin is the last person still seated.
It all happens quickly. The ceremony is over and it’s time for pictures; they take a Cravity group photo. The photographer’s camera kicks Seongmin’s reflexes into action— he’s smiling brightly, crouching in the front row between Wonjin and Hyeongjun, just like in the old days. How long has it been since it’s been all nine of them together? There’s a moment before the photographer takes the pictures where Seongmin holds his breath, keeping his eyes open. Click, click, click. Seongmin exhales.
Before Allen could say anything to them other than thank you guys, the photographer is motioning for the next group of people to enter the frame. They’re here for a second and gone the next.
Then they’re heading to the wedding banquet on the third floor of a Chinese restaurant. That’s when Allen’s brother gives his best man speech, telling a story about Allen as a kid that Seongmin has heard before, from Allen’s perspective. The food is good, or at least that’s what he hears Woobin saying next to him. Seongmin’s head is on autopilot, picking up the food with his chopsticks, chewing, and swallowing. None of the flavors register in his mouth. Everyone is loud; it only makes it easier for Seongmin to slip into the background.
The dance floor opens up after dinner and Seongmin’s not sure how he got there but he’s standing at the edge of it now, part of the onlooking crowd, one of the background characters. They’re watching the father-daughter dance, the hem of her wedding dress swishing in a pretty arc as she spins across the floor. Seongmin looks for Allen in the crowd.
Allen is watching on as part of the crowd and he’s smiling, in the subconscious way where he’s not thinking about it, as if nobody's watching him. Nobody is, except for Seongmin. That’s always the way it’s been, Seongmin being the only one looking at Allen.
The air inside is suffocating. Seongmin makes his way out of the crowd and it takes him a minute but he finds the balcony and pushes the door open for escape.
It’s getting cooler now that it’s nighttime, but it’s not quite cold yet. There’s a liminal quality to the autumn air, of things changing, ending, and starting. Seongmin can’t quite place himself in all of this; he lets the air carry him away with it.
He’s not sure how long he stands there but some time later, the balcony door opens.
“Seongminnie?”
“Hyung,” Seongmin answers as he turns. That’s the way they’ll always be; Seongminnie and Allen-hyung.
Allen is in his pristine white tuxedo, one shiny black loafer stepped out onto the balcony, one still indoors. Seongmin’s heart squeezes at the way Allen looks like a fairy tale prince come to life. Allen smiles when Seongmin looks at him, walking out onto the balcony and closing the door behind him.
The thud of the door reminds Seongmin that they’re alone now.
“Took me a while to find you.” Allen inches closer to him, before turning to look out into the street. There’s nothing to see other than a parking lot and the street next to it, a steady rhythm of cars passing through. “Too loud inside?”
Seongmin breathes in the air laced with exhaust gas. Allen still knows him, the way he’s done with social events twenty minutes in. He nods so Allen will know he’s right.
“What did you think of the ceremony?” Allen asks softly, like Seongmin’s opinion means something to him.
Finally, Seongmin remembers his manners, the voice scolding him in his mind sounding like Woobin. “Oh, congratulations, hyung.” Seongmin turns to him fully, trying to smile. “You’re married.” This thing— this thing Seongmin had been dreading— has happened. Seongmin had done nothing to stop it.
“Thank you, Seongminnie.” Allen doesn’t laugh but he’s smiling like he wants to. “I’m really happy you came.” He reaches out, his ring finger glittering silver, and squeezes Seongmin’s shoulder. It’s a reminder to both of them; a reminder for Allen that Seongmin’s really here, and a reminder for Seongmin that Allen wants him here.
Seongmin lies a lot. Some days, he lies more than he tells the truth. But never to Allen. “I came, because I love you.”
There’s a chill in Seongmin’s veins as he says that because it strikes something at his core— this is the reason for all of it. Because I love you, Allen-hyung. It’s starting to trickle out of him, like a leak in a dam, like a bleeding wound.
Allen laughs this time but he doesn’t lift his hand from where it’s resting on Seongmin’s shoulder.
More of it is spilling out.
“Will you come back?” Seongmin can feel the way his voice shrinks, from the cold, from Allen’s presence next to him. He already knows the answer.
Allen looks at him not unkindly, but with something too real seeping into his eyes. “I want to visit.” That’s the same answer he gives every time Seongmin asks, whether he asks himself or through someone else. But it’s been three years and Allen hasn’t come back— he doesn’t have anything to come back for.
Seongmin grabs onto the metal railing, the metal cold against the heat of his palms, looking out into the street. Everything feels like it’s flowing out of him like it’s the last chance Seongmin has to tell Allen all of it. The truth has been building up inside him for the past twelve years and it’s rushing to get out of his mouth to atone for every lie Seongmin has told.
Allen takes his hand off Seongmin’s shoulder. “I wanted to show you something.”
Seongmin turns back to Allen and Allen pulls something out of his pocket, closed fist until he has Seongmin’s attention. Then he unfurls it.
“Ta-da.” Allen says warmly.
It takes Seongmin a moment to recognize what it is, and another to place where it’s from. It’s a pink soju bottle cap, but not from yesterday. This one is from ten years ago.
“I kept it.”
Seongmin had the matching bottle at home, stolen from the recycling bin that day. It used to hide under his bed in the dorm like a secret but now it sits on the windowsill of his own apartment like a memorial to that day, a reminder that it wasn’t a dream.
And Allen kept the cap.
“You kept it,” Seongmin whispers under his breath, so quietly that he knows Allen wouldn’t hear it. If he says more, if he says anything else, he might burst; explode, like Taeyoung had said, and it won’t be pretty.
Like that day ten years ago, when Allen knocked on the door to his room. “Seongminnie?” There’s a tenderness there that grips Seongmin’s throat but it’s not new— it’s all too familiar. It wakes up something in Seongmin that’s been sleeping dormant for so long. This is what Allen couldn’t write down or say through a phone. This is why Seongmin is here.
Everything gets blurry.
“Oh, Seongmin.” Allen is hugging him now but all Seongmin can do is squeeze his eyes and let the tears fall onto the jacket of Allen’s wedding tuxedo. Allen is hugging him now but he belongs to someone else, never Seongmin’s again.
Allen is hugging him now and Seongmin is supposed to feel better, to pull back and sniff and say he’s just happy that his hyung found true love, to laugh and smile the tears away. But Seongmin has never lied to Allen and he won’t start now. Allen doesn’t let go either, just murmuring that it’s okay, letting Seongmin hold him close for as long as he wants. Eventually, Seongmin tries to pull himself together and pull back.
Allen’s head is tilted not with concern but with guilt. “Is this about LA?” He hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I promised I’d come back but I still haven’t. It’s just that work got so busy, then I met Joan and the timing was never right…”
Seongmin sniffs, looking anywhere except at Allen. This is not about LA. This is not about Allen not coming back, because Seongmin knew when Allen disappeared after the customs line that he wouldn’t see Allen again unless he went to LA. This is not about Allen making a new life.
“Seongmin, I wish things weren’t this way. I wish I could come to see you more.” It hurts more that Allen means this, his wide eyes brimming with something as he takes Seongmin’s hands into his own, and tries to pull them closer together.
This is about Seongmin changing his phone numbers so he has a reason to ignore Allen’s calls. This is about Seongmin rejecting every job offer he has in LA. This is about Seongmin trying to grow up. This is about Seongmin being grown out of, and being left behind. This is about Seongmin not having a place in Allen’s life anymore.
This is about the fact that despite all of it, Allen kept the bottle cap. That’s the only part of Seongmin that Allen still has space for, a memory from ten years ago in a little metal cap that might sit in a dusty drawer somewhere.
“It’s not your fault.” Seongmin whispers the truth. Seongmin had tried to grow out of Allen before Allen could grow out of him, but Seongmin never found a way out while Allen built a new life away from him. What has Allen done wrong except love? “None of it was ever your fault.”
Seongmin always thought he’d grow out of this silly crush. But here he is, snotty and sniffling like a little kid, weak at the knees at the sight of a bottle cap. It goes so much deeper. Seongmin wonders if he’ll ever be free when he looks at the way Allen wipes a tear away from his eyes and smiles at Seongmin, always fond. Allen never looked at him like he was stupid, not even when he was seventeen and stupid.
Everything seems to be drawing to a close. There’s so much more Seongmin could say that would never come out of his mouth, lies and truth alike. And he can feel all that Allen is holding back, all the things he might’ve said if things were different. But this story is ending and they know the ending isn’t theirs.
Someone opens the balcony door. Minhee pokes his head through, his smile wiped off his face when he notices the atmosphere between them.
“Hey,” he mumbles. “Woobin’s about to perform and Serim-hyung is stressed that you both just disappeared.”
On the way back to the banquet hall, Allen walks ahead, alone. From the back, it looks like Allen is walking away from Seongmin, just out of reach.
When Woobin starts to sing a soft love ballad, all the couples start to slow dance on the floor. Hyeongjun drags Serim out on the floor too, Hyeongjun itching to dance while Serim has had too many flutes of champagne to resist. Allen and his wife are dancing and they’re a solar eclipse— Seongmin can’t look at them directly.
Seongmin would’ve been content with watching on the sidelines like Jungmo is doing, staying completely still and hoping he’d turn into a statue. But Taeyoung comes to him like a dream, a hand reaching out silently.
Seongmin takes it.
They walk onto a free space on the dance floor, Seongmin’s right hand meeting Taeyoung’s left, Seongmin’s other hand on Taeyoung’s waist, Taeyoung’s hand on his shoulder. Then they’re starting to dance, not anything they’re used to, just simple steps in an attempt at slow dancing.
Seongmin doesn’t feel the distance between them anymore when he pulls Taeyoung in closer and presses his nose to Taeyoung’s shoulder, burrows his face into Taeyoung’s navy blue jacket. Everything has felt disorienting ever since he landed in LA, since he stepped out of the military camp— since he walked out of Starship Entertainment for the last time. Seongmin has been drifting this whole time, lost without a destination, but he sinks into Taeyoung’s arms and he’s home again.
They might fight, they might not understand each other, they might even hurt each other, but they’re two parts of a whole and when they come together, they fit. They belong to the world but on this dance floor, they only belong to each other. There are no cameras, no videos, and no pictures, and if anyone’s looking at them, it doesn’t matter anymore.
Taeyoung doesn’t say a word as they sway to Woobin’s singing, not even as Seongmin blinks back his tears. They just know what the other needs. When the song ends, Taeyoung holds him, and it means everything.
To Seongminnie,
I’m getting married. Are you surprised? I wanted to tell you in person about the wedding, but also the engagement and all the things before. There is so much I want to tell you that I can’t write down in this note or say over the phone.
I hope you come to my wedding, not only to see me get married but also so I could see you again. I really miss you. I could’ve gotten married sooner as my fiancée’s mother wanted but I’m waiting for you, because I need you there. I need to see you again.
I gave this envelope to Minhee because it’s the only way I can reach you. Please stay healthy, and warm, and be happy. Smile and be happy. I love you.
From your Allen-hyung.