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A fancily-decorated shoe box was delivered to Jongin’s apartment on a sunny November weekend.
Inside the box, beneath the bottle of expensive wine and chocolates, two envelopes awaited discovery. The first was plain and contained a paid ticket to Jeju. The second was embossed and contained the wedding invitation.
“To the lighthouse” were the words inscribed on the outer layer that held the invitation together. It wasn’t surprising the couple wanted to hold their wedding at a location closest to the place where they first met. Examining the entire package once again, Jongin guessed Kyungsoo must’ve been in charge of hand-painting the boxes and arranging its contents while Baekhyun most probably credited himself to have spearheaded this mini project.
Perhaps some would find this method overkill; but when the nation’s genius idol and nation’s top actor wanted zero media coverage of their wedding and keep it intimate as possible, drastic measures were necessary.
A month later found Jongin knocking twice on a door and being ushered inside by Baekhyun’s mother. Baekhyun was already dressed in his tuxedo, phone keeping him busy. His face lit up the moment he looked up and saw Jongin.
“Look who’s here!” Baekhyun’s loud, boisterous voice had Jongin laughing. In a matter of strides, Baekhyun accosted him with a tight hug. Pulling apart, Baekhyun gave Jongin a long, meaningful look, brows slightly furrowing in concern. “You know, we would’ve been okay if you couldn’t make it. We’d understand.”
Jongin smiled, touched by the consideration, but shook his head slowly. “Nonsense. It’s been four years. If I burst into tears, it’s not because I remember that jerk.”
Baekhyun smiled and nodded. “You’ve always been a strong one. We have time before the ceremony starts. Tell me what Korean National Ballet’s principal dancer has been up to in the past months.”
At the appointed time, Jongin walked into the resort’s biggest garden that offered a distant but perfect view of the monumental lighthouse. Searching for his seat, he turned around and accidentally bumped into somebody. Jongin hurriedly apologized, but the rest of his words trailed off in stunned silence when he saw the person before him.
“No, please, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where—Kim Jongin?”
“Oh Sehun?”
Sehun’s eyes were wide open, mouth agape, but the surprise soon gave way to an amicable smile. “It’s been so long. You look well.”
Jongin’s pulse skipped to the tune of a long-forgotten beat and, somehow, stirred long-forgotten feelings. He ignored them in favor of chuckling. He wasn’t sure why it sounded shaky. “You’re right,” was his lame reply. He would’ve added something else if the arrival of other guests didn’t interrupt him.
For a majority of the ceremony, Jongin found himself sneaking looks at Sehun, who was seated a few rows upfront. Sehun’s presence at the wedding wasn’t surprising since he was Kyungsoo’s cousin. Jongin was just having a hard time adjusting to this sudden reality of seeing someone he neither saw nor heard from in seven years, in spite of their friendship that began during high school until the gradual radio silence after college graduation.
After eating, Jongin made way to the corner of the ballroom. A framed message board was propped up on a table, surrounded by random knickknacks like old vinyls and used compact blushes. White statice served as a finishing touch, invoking a nostalgic atmosphere. Jongin picked a pen and scribbled his message after some deliberation. He’d barely set down the pen when someone picked it up again, gasping upon seeing who it was.
Sehun didn’t seem too surprised; merely gave him a warm smile and wrote his message next to Jongin’s. After, he remarked, “You act like you’ve seen a ghost.” A hint of amusement laced the words; quirked the corner of his mouth.
Baffled laughter escaped Jongin before he could stop it. “Can’t blame me for that—I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I suppose it’s warranted. I never really kept in touch. Would you believe me if I say it’s because life overseas put me through the wringer?”
Jongin nodded. “That can happen. I’d be lying if I said I never felt a little resentful of your silence. It’d be hypocritical of me, though. I never made effort, either. Was too busy living every day like heaven only to be pummeled to the deepest parts of hell.”
Shock flitted across Sehun’s face, followed by contemplation. His gaze lowered; stopped at Jongin’s hands before flickering back up.
Jongin smiled wryly before gazing outside the windows. The nearby beach was empty, perfect for a walk. He invited Sehun; off they went.
Five minutes of walking in comfortable silence was broken when Jongin said, “I was living the almost-perfect life with my fiancé—until he stood me up on our supposed wedding day four years ago.”
“What the fuck,” came Sehun’s immediate, bewildered response. “What an asshole. You don’t deserve that.”
“You’re right. He doesn’t deserve me, or anybody else. May he stay single and miserable for the rest of his life. He’s selfish, a coward, and—” Jongin startled at the sudden, cold sensation that touched his nose, cheek, forehead.
Snow, the first of the season, fell on and around them like powdered sugar. Jongin happened to inhale some, tickling his nose and triggering a sneeze.
Sehun tugged off his scarf and, in a series of deft movements, wrapped it around Jongin’s neck. “Seven years have passed, but you still don’t know how to bundle up during winter.”
Jongin raised an eyebrow. “Seven years have passed, but you still remember that?”
“Some things are hard to forget.”
“That… almost sounds like a confession.”
Sehun’s intense gaze held and locked Jongin’s that made the world around them fade. “What do you think?”
The scarf was long secured, but Sehun’s hands lingered on the fabric. Jongin held them in place before Sehun could pull back. “I think,” he said, lips curving into a tiny smile, “you’re due some mighty amends for making me wait seven years.”