Baekhyun coughed dramatically at the cloud of dust that flew into his face when he dropped the heavy box onto the dirty attic floor. ‘College ’ was scrawled unapologetically across the top cardboard flap, and Baekhyun realized with a twinge of sudden nostalgia that it had been nearly ten years since he closed that chapter of his life—and this box along with it. Unable to help himself, Baekhyun slowly opened the box, only to sneeze violently when another puff of dust greeted him. He swore under his breath at the abysmal state of his parents’ storage space and asked himself again why he’d ever caved to his mom’s aegyo-laden plea to clean the place up.

Cleaning could wait for a little while, though, because Baekhyun was damned if he wasn’t going to look through all the memorabilia his 22 year old self had considered important enough to keep.

The first thing to catch his eye was the glint of a gold and blue graduation tassel. Funnily enough, Baekhyun had distinct memories of losing his two days before the university wide commencement ceremony, so it took him a moment to remember how this particular one had ended up among his stuff. When he did, the image that filled his mind was a composite sketch of a kittenish curl of thin, pink lips, eyes that nearly disappeared in a smile, and cheekbones that could cut through glass. Ah, Baekhyun remembered, Jongdae. It was Jongdae who’d given Baekhyun his own tassel when Baekhyun had run around like a headless chicken to try and find the one he’d misplaced.

“Don’t worry about it, Baekhyun-ah.” Jongdae had told him kindly. “Use mine, okay?” Baekhyun had always liked how Jongdae took care of him despite being a little bit younger; he’d taken the tassel when offered and hadn’t even paused to think about what Jongdae was supposed to do without one. It had always been like that between the two of them—Jongdae always giving and Baekhyun always taking without a thought—and yet somehow they’d lasted through all four years of college and even one more year after that.

Baekhyun had honestly been surprised when they broke up. Jongdae was always telling Baekhyun how much he loved him, and Baekhyun was happy too, so why mess with a good thing?

“That’s just it,” Jongdae had said, his expression resigned and weighed down by unhappiness as Baekhyun brought his objections to light. “I used to think that being with you was enough for me, that loving you was enough. But it’s been five years, Baek. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you love me?” Baekhyun had swallowed hard in discomfort and hesitation, but eventually nodded.

Something about that response had filled Jongdae’s eyes with unshed tears and he’d asked quietly, “Would you actually mean it?” When Baekhyun didn’t answer—couldn’t answer—Jongdae had smiled sadly at him, pressed a last kiss against his mouth, and walked away. After that day, when Baekhyun called, Jongdae didn’t pick up; when Baekhyun texted, Jongdae didn’t respond; when Baekhyun grew desperate enough to appear in the lobby of Jongdae’s office building, Jongdae sent an intern to inform Baekhyun that he wasn’t welcome and had promptly told security to mark Baekhyun as persona non grata to deter any future visits. That was the last straw for Baekhyun; he’d taken the hint with as much grace as his self-absorbed nature allowed and had moved on with relative ease, comforting himself in the lonely moments with the knowledge that he’d never really loved Jongdae anyway.

Nine years later, and with a box drenched in memories of Jongdae sitting open at his feet, Baekhyun was beginning to wonder if maybe he was wrong. Maybe he had loved Jongdae—in his own way. Or maybe Baekhyun was just another cliché: a person who took love for granted and didn’t realize its value until he didn’t have it anymore.

Humming “Big Yellow Taxi” by Counting Crows under his breath, Baekhyun carefully placed the remnants of his graduation day onto the ground next to him and continued his trip down memory lane. Between the pages of a blue exam book, he found a couple of Polaroids of him, Jongdae, Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo smooshed together and making funny faces which betrayed how happy they’d been back then as their year’s notorious Four Musketeers of Mischief. Their friends had tried not to take sides after the break up, but it had been easier for Baekhyun to embrace singlehood without two living, breathing reminders of his ex by his side. The years between now and the last time he’d talked with Chanyeol and Kyungsoo weren’t as vast as the years of silence between him and Jongdae, but their last conversation wasn’t exactly recent either.

It occurred to Baekhyun then that, unlike his own reaction to their split, probably the only remnant of their relationship that Jongdae had cut out of his life was Baekhyun himself. He’d always been unfailingly loyal to his friends—Baekhyun had liked that about Jongdae, too—and frankly Baekhyun would be more surprised if Jongdae wasn’t still in contact with Kyungsoo and Chanyeol both. Baekhyun didn’t allow that consideration to deter him, though, and as he dropped the photographs beside his commencement program, Baekhyun resolved to contact his friends as soon as he was done; he missed them terribly and thought it might be nice for them to know how sorry he was.

Jongdae deserved that too, of course, but the likelihood that he’d accept Baekhyun’s apology ten years too late was practically nonexistent. Still, it was worth a try.

Baekhyun returned to his perusal of the box’s contents with renewed vigor after the peace of that decision sunk into his bones. He chuckled in dry amusement as he skimmed through the pages of the journal he and the others had used to record their reckless adventures, and muttered a few embarrassed exclamations of “Oh wow!” whenever his rummaging at the bottom of the box revealed a particularly incriminating picture. There were loose leaf papers everywhere too, ones that had somehow gotten separated from the rest of their stapled stacks and served as a stark reminder to Baekhyun that no matter how much his graphic design job might sometimes, anything was better than being forced to do homework.

He pulled out what he thought would be yet another free floating page from his undergraduate thesis on the racialization of public space in the United States, and was instantly struck with bittersweet memory when he found a ticket to the university’s senior formal in his hand instead. Baekhyun remembered the night he’d gotten it just as clearly as he did all the others which the stuff in his college box brought to mind, and just like all the others, that memory was filled with Jongdae.

There was a particularly tense moment in the weeks before Baekhyun’s thesis had been due during which time he thought that he’d just have to drop out of school because there was no way in hell he would ever be able to finish. Jongdae had been drowning under the weight of his practical exams in architectural engineering but still he’d somehow found the time to purchase two tickets to the party.

“We need a night off,” Baekhyun had groaned, collapsing into Jongdae’s shoulder with a tired whine.

Jongdae had grinned and Baekhyun had pouted that his boyfriend had no right to such happiness when Baekhyun felt like he was about to die. Rather than retort with the sarcasm Baekhyun saw Jongdae direct at everyone else on a daily basis, the Kim boy remained unfailingly patient and merely shrugged. “I guess that means you don’t want these then,” he’d teased, waving the pair of tickets in front of Baekhyun’s face. It turned out that having something to look forward to was exactly the impetus Baekhyun needed to get back to work, and he’d thanked Jongdae with a few hurried kisses along his boyfriend’s jaw before returning his attention to his thesis. Jongdae had spent the rest of the evening with his chin resting on Baekhyun’s shoulder, whispering a quiet mantra of “I love you” while Baekhyun did his best to ignore temptation and kept writing. In the end he’d succumbed to Jongdae’s caresses and the respite they found in the familiar curves of each other’s bodies had lasted all night.

“I never said thank you,” Baekhyun realized, voicing the thought aloud into the emptiness of his parents’ attic. He passed his thumb over Jongdae’s radiant face in the photo they took at the formal a few weeks later, and added regretfully “You gave me so much—loved me so much—and I never once said thank you.”

Biting back a sob, Baekhyun threw all of their memories back into the box and slammed the flimsy cardboard flap closed with as much force as he could without ripping it. He was practically running as he made his way down the hatch ladder and into the kitchen to peck his mother’s cheek goodbye. Forcing back his tears, Baekhyun reassured her that he’d be back the next weekend to finish the job he’d started, and that no, he wasn’t crying, he was just maybe allergic to dust.

She didn’t buy it, and Baekhyun didn’t either, because he barely made it to his care before he broke down completely. Though long after their relationship ended, this was the first time Baekhyun was truly allowing himself to mourn the loss of Jongdae, and his slight body shook with the sheer strength of his emotional release. Baekhyun didn’t know how long he sat bawling into the leather of his steering wheel, but it was dark by the time he felt recovered enough to be able to drive himself home in one piece.

Epilogue:

The notifications on Baekhyun’s smartphone showed a missed call from his mom and a new text from Kyungsoo that read “Yeol and I will be seeing you at the reunion, right?” Baekhyun didn’t know what the hell reunion his friend was talking about, but he considered any opportunity to meet up with his college buddies was a golden one, especially since he’d only just gotten back in contact with them.

He considered responding to Kyungsoo’s message but decided to check the voicemail from his mom first and jabbed a finger impatiently at the play button before holding his phone up to his ear.

“Beep. Baekhyun honey, I just wanted to know if you planned on coming to finishing cleaning the attic anytime soon? You promised you’d take care of it for us. Anyway, just let me know and I’ll make sure to have some side dishes ready for you to take home. Love you, swee—Oh! I almost forgot. You got an invitation in the mail today, darling. Something from your school about a ten year reunion? Sigh. I can’t believe it’s been that long alrea—Beep.”

Baekhyun smiled indulgently even though his mother wasn’t there to see him, and sent her a quick text to confirm that he’d be over Friday after work. He imagined her rolling her eyes at his request that she cook him dinner too, and smiled again. The expression remained as Baekhyun returned his attention to Kyungsoo’s message and replied in the affirmative that he’d see both his friends in a month. After a moment’s hesitation, Baekhyun, without ever losing his smile, added another text to their thread.

From Baekhyun: Do you know if Jongdae will be there? I have some things to tell him.