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Baekhyun found him in a phone box. Junmyeon was soaked through from the walk there, beginning to dry, and the rain had been intermittent since. Baekhyun squeezed in with him, in a suit. A fancy one with raindrops rolling off the shoulders.
“Excuse me,” he said loudly, laughing as they manoeuvred around each other, “Concerned— and umbrella-less— citizen. Are you alright in here?”
Junmyeon had walked from his office with the intent of calling straight back. The few lights left on in the building were still visible in the skyline. He was going to quit, or tell them where to find his body, but even the thought of seeking out a place to die had exhausted him too much to lift the receiver.
There was an oversized decorative flower made of fabric sticking from Baekhyun’s pocket. It was hard to stay dismal with the way it tickled Junmyeon’s neck.
“I think I know you.”
“You absolutely do,” Baekhyun grinned, and it suddenly made sense why he’d approached. Tactful as he ever was, waiting for Junmyeon to acknowledge him. “If I’d known you were going to leave our little club I’d have asked to stay in touch. It happens though, y’know, to so many of us— life and family. Things.” Baekhyun gripped Junmyeon’s forearm, squeezing wet fabric against him. He focused on the metal shelf pressing into his back. “I’ve always wondered how you are.”
Baekhyun barely seemed different. Junmyeon was sallow and his face was beginning to prematurely crease with exhaustion. With his meticulously outrageous hairstyle Baekhyun looked younger than his years, while Junmyeon could almost pass for his father in the grey suit he lived in.
“Busy,” Junmyeon offered. It sounded dismissive but was honest; for over ten years he’d been nothing but busy.
“I actually co-host events now. You’re lucky I’m so dressed tonight—” Baekhyun wiggled his fingers behind the flower to pinch a card out of his pocket. “—I’d love to see you there. Kim Junmyeon, my partner in crime.”
The box had steamed up by the time Baekhyun needed to sprint off to wherever he was wearing such a fine suit to. He drew a kiss on the glass and left Junmyeon with a grin and a wave of his damp, spindly fingers.
Junmyeon slipped the card into his briefcase, defeated by kindness. The man Baekhyun was remembering felt as distant as the pinprick light of his office visible through trees and cables.
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A section of where Baekhyun now works was advertised as a bar, and Junmyeon could justify that. If anything being able to announce he was doing something social after work would be achieving at something he normally fell behind in. He took the card to show at the entrance and asked for Baekhyun by name. Still holding his briefcase, still in his grey suit, like the lonely men they used to reel in from the street to bankrupt on drinks.
Baekhyun greeted him in black satin that looked obscene on him despite his body language turning lax in Junmyeon’s presence. Junmyeon had good as forgotten that people could be so captivating. Baekhyun laughed with feigned bashfulness at his staring, even has he pulled the neckline lower.
It was good to know that Baekhyun had survived — thrived, even — and that no one had taken his spark from him. A few years ago Junmyeon may have been bitter, when he still had enough fight and self-worth left in him to want for more. Following the trail of Baekhyun’s necklaces down his firm chest, Junmyeon felt a hunger that had been hollowed out so deeply inside him. The more he looked the ache turned to sadness. He used to be like that, too, in a lifetime it’s hard to even recall as his own.
Two free drinks and Junmyeon let the words ooze out of him. He abandoned Baekhyun and their kind Mama who ran the bar because he had to. All would be forgiven and forgotten if he worked hard enough. And he forgot, too — that he was once vivacious, that he’d been loved by a different kind of family, that he found joy in kissing men. Or anyone, eventually. He’d made his peace with the long straight road from marriage to death, but he couldn’t subject a woman to diligently maintaining a lifestyle she’d simply be another element of. He works too hard to make his parents proud.
“Don’t suppose they ever care about how you feel?”
Junmyeon’s head lolled over the dark leather couch. The chandelier above him was off, the crystals dead and dull. It would seem worth it if everyone was happy at his expense, but the drudgery of it is just about keeping disappointment at bay. “I don’t really feel anything.”
Baekhyun had been listening from the bar until then, using his inner arm as a pillow. He slid from his stool and adjusted the belt that pulled the satin around his body so tauntingly. The white segments of his hair glowed blue to pink in the bar’s lights until he joined Junmyeon in his dark corner. All of the seating was leather over there, where they could see each other mostly from the shine in their eyes and lips and drinks.
Junmyeon still trusted Baekhyun like they were twenty. So he watched Baekhyun open his jacket cuff, then his sleeve, numb as always and woozy from alcohol. He’d pursued the burn so fast the ice cubes were barely melted. The club’s name was indented in the ice. How fun. Baekhyun was probably better off than him.
“I’m sure I can find something. For you to feel.” Baekhyun gave him time. Junmyeon did nothing with it, so with a hot puff of breath as warning Baekhyun’s mouth was on Junmyeon’s wrist. His lips sealed and he worked his teeth and tongue over the soft skin. Close to pain but not, familiar as though this was their bar and they’d be in bed together after closing.
That wasn’t what scared Junmyeon away. It was afterwards, when he was admiring the wet mark and letting stupid ideas spin around in his head, and Baekhyun leant close.
“You could play here, you know, Junmyeon. You can meet my guys— they’ll love you. It’s safe. I know how your family were, but you’re—”
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They’re in one of the neat, dark bedrooms today. It’s almost unnervingly opulent compared to any Junmyeon has seen in these kinds of places before. Baekhyun is the brightest thing in the room. He’s shrugged his ludicrous fluffy pink jacket to sit around his waist, but the pink around his eyes is even brighter still. Junmyeon thinks Baekhyun must be the brightest thing he’s seen in years. All that colour just for him.
Well, no, that’s not..It’s for Baekhyun’s customers. Junmyeon is more a special arrangement than anything. He couldn’t help the glimmer of excitement when Baekhyun pulled him to this room by his hand.
Baekhyun left the door ajar so they aren’t in a secluded bedroom, though neither of them have touched the bed. The couch beside it is comfy and intimate in an appropriate amount. Junmyeon’s been watching shadows move in the warm glow coming from the hallway. Baekhyun’s friends are nearby, and they’ve just become surprisingly loud.
“Ignore them.” Baekhyun doesn’t look away from the task at hand. He’s painted three of Junmyeon’s nails in blotchy black stripes to match his own. “It always gets raucous if someone rents out the whole dining area.”
“Dining area?” Junmyeon tilts his head, considering how his thick fingers fill Baekhyun’s delicate hold.
“Y’know. We sell debauchery of all kinds.” Baekhyun moves his eyebrows in a way that makes Junmyeon laugh. “Means different things for different people. Some customers just want to dress up, have some champagne in charming company, and let loose.”
Junmyeon nods slowly, processing the thought. Baekhyun gently switches hands, resting the fully painted one on Junmyeon’s thigh.
“This game has changed while you’ve been away, Junmyeonnie,” Baekhyun dunks the brush into the treacly bottle again, wipes the excess off on the rim, “More types of people looking for all kinds of things.”
Baekhyun’s smile is crooked and his eyes are bright, and ten years ago Junmyeon would have kissed him without thinking or needing to ask. It surprises him that he is thinking about it. A crash and overlapping cheers echo from down the hallway and he purses back a smile. There’s so much life here. He might even be daring and remove his tie later.
“You know, I’m sure we pay as well as whatever is putting you in an early grave. And we’d love you, Junmyeon.” Baekhyun leans into his space, and Junmyeon doesn’t dare move in case he smudges his nails. “I know how bright you can shine. I’d love you better than anyone in your life right now,” he says like they’re still young and it’s still that honest, “You could be happy with us.”
Junmyeon lowers his head to focus on his nails. “It’s a fun idea, it is. But I’m too old for this now, Baekhyun. I’m too tired. I’m..” He shrugs in gesture to himself. It’s like time stopped mattering once he put on this grey suit; every day the same, for years, forever.
“You wouldn’t think that if you met the others,” Baekhyun urges, “When was the last time you did anything because you wanted to do it.”
“When I came here to see you.”
“Exactly!” Junmyeon isn’t looking, but he can tell Baekhyun winks. “Is your colour still blue?”
That’s right. Junmyeon used to be a colour. “I think..” he extends a fingertip towards Baekhyun’s jacket, then remembers his tacky nails. “I’d be pink now, maybe. Not like yours. Softer. Peachy pink.”
Baekhyun nods and his fluffy hair bobs, black crossing white. “Then next time you come I’ll have something for you to wear, ok? Like I said — dress up, charming company, let loose. I’ll find you something to smash.”
“I probably need that,” Junmyeon says instead of no, of course I can’t. Please just leave me alone.
Baekhyun wriggles in his fluffy pile of pink. “So is that our next date? Yes?”
Junmyeon thinks about his schedule. He thinks of the work still on his desk that he’d normally be staying behind to reduce. The connections that would immediately collapse without him. His cold lifeless apartment and cold parents and cold silences on dating apps. “Yes.”
“Yes!” Baekhyun’s smile is undeniably genuine, warming Junmyeon’s face and insides.
Junmyeon sighs, shakes his head. “You’re still a bad influence, Byun Baekhyun.”
Baekhyun agrees loudly and heartily and kisses Junmyeon’s cheek with sweet, glossy lips. And makes the same pleased hum he always used to when Junmyeon turns to seek out his mouth. Baekhyun pushes Junmyeon’s grey jacket from his shoulders, and Junmyeon leans into him to let it fall from his back.