The probability of meeting someone you know halfway across the world is minuscule. The probability of that person being the man you loved in high school? Less than minuscule. What of the possibility that he loves you? One in a million.

As Jongin stared halfway across the bustling Paris airport, he rubbed his eyes that were still drooping from the jet lag. Seoul to Paris had a lot of connecting flights, and even for a man with a body like his, it was bound to take a toll on his health. No sleep before the flight and no sleep on it caused him to slowly realise the error of his ways- maybe it would be better to rest as normal humans did.

"Maybe I do need to find an alternative to the late night coffee-fuelled writing bursts," he joked to himself, knowing that he never would. Throwing away his resolution almost immediately, his eyes scanned the airport for a coffee shop, just a little something to keep him awake. Yet, despite not finding a coffee shop, Kim Jongin was jolted awake.

A minuscule probability took the shape of a tall man dressed head to toe in the latest runway fashion. The sunlight through the glass panes seemed to find their way only to him, enveloping him in the golden glow that he used to give off with every word he spoke. He hadn't changed. Maybe he was taller. Maybe he had gotten more handsome. But, if you were to compare the man who stood before him now, seemingly glowing in the sunshine, to the man that every happy memory had, you would still know he was the same goddamn idiot.

There were tickets in his hand.

Ah, he wasn't here for him. Why would he be? Jongin never told him anything. Yet, despite it being obvious, something broke inside of him, because the mere sight of his "Sehun-ah" was enough to make him foolish. Hope that he never knew existed seemed to shatter because Oh Sehun was right there, and yet, it wasn't for him, and it never would be.

It would be foolish to call out to him, selfish even. But when a voice inside him screamed, "Find me ", for some god forsaken reason, Oh Sehun turned, even if just by a little bit.

The writer dropped his bag, and wondered if subconsciously it was not just out of surprise but because that voice inside of him really did want Oh Sehun to turn around and look at him. Was it desire for attention? Or something for nostalgia's sake?

"Find me, Oh Sehun." Jongin bit his lip as he stayed rooted to his spot, a constant amongst the hurried crowd. He didn't care anymore. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, it was childish. Yes, it was practically impossible. Yet, Oh Sehun had this knack for throwing his reason out the window and Jongin prayed like a little kid.

"Look at me, and I'll know you still remember." With Jongin's last silent prayer, Sehun turned like clockwork. 

He didn't know why but he spun around on his heel, faster than he had ever done during dance practice with the gang all those years ago. His eyes had always been searching but as he spun, he stopped.

"Kim Jongin, I found you."

Jongin smiled. It was no longer surprise. It was happiness.

"You always do."

The years that they spent apart seemed to melt away as they ran across the crowded hall to lock each other in a long overdue embrace. Sehun remarked on how much stronger Jongin had gotten, and as he pulled him closer, the warmth of his hold brought back a flood of memories, from the laughter of 12 teenage boys to the bonds that pulled them together. Everything had changed, yet in his arms, nothing really had.

He didn't want to let go, and if was up to him, they would have stood there forever. No one would notice. Was it too much to ask to keep Kim Jongin to himself? 

Sehun's fantasies broke with a clear female voice that he remembered only too well. 

"Sehun-ah, how long will you hug him for? Don't think of keeping him all to yourself, selfish." Krystal's voice shot out from behind Jongin and Sehun rolled his eyes. Dragging luggage behind her, the slim and flawless figure of one of his best friends appeared from behind Jongin who rushed over to pull his share of the overloaded suitcases.

"That psychic ," he thought, "she can still read my mind."

"Of course not, KJ-dearest. I missed you just as much." Sehun shot a heart at the smiling girl and she returned it with a flying kiss, as she swatted Jongin's hand away from the handles.

Jongin smiled at the two. Had it really been 10 years? Neither of them had changed, and he felt like he was back in the room that smelled like sweat, with the people he thought would never leave his side, believing that the end of the world was a bad test grade, crying over not getting enough Valentine's chocolate.

"About that nickname, Sehun-ah, you're going to have to change it." Jongin shot a glance at Krystal who looked away, embarrassed.

"KJ for Krystal Jung is perfect though?"

Krystal laughed. Holding up her slender hand, she held the glittering ring on it out to the light. 

"Krystal Kim is more appropriate. We're getting married. KK doesn't sound all that bad, right?" Krystal rested her head on Jongin's toned arms and the pair smiled, looking at each other. Suddenly, the warm Paris sun didn't seem warm any longer.

Thank god for acting lessons. Thank god for those unbearable theatre classes where you learnt how to put on a completely artificial expression. Thank god for Oh Sehun being naturally gifted. Because the joy on his face was fake, the break in his heart real, and yet the smile on his face was radiant as ever.

His two best friends in the whole world were getting married. Only the world's worst human being would be jealous of their happiness. Maybe that's what he was, because the twinge of pain in his heart was sudden but Sehun knew it would be eternal.

"That's wonderful! I'm so glad!" He lied.

"I am so happy that you guys are happy." Maybe little less of a lie.

Jongin smiled at Krystal. Krystal beamed at Sehun. Sehun stared at the ground.

Biting his inner lip, Sehun led them out of the airport, knowing it was their first time in the city. He tore up the ticket silently and stuffed the torn pieces in Louis Vuitton coat. Why go to Hawaii when the greatest sight ever, Kim Jongin was before him?

Yet, Jongin spared no moment to steal a glance at Krystal. He had to know how it tore at Sehun, he had it to know how it crushed him. Still, he did it, and with a face as beautiful as his, Sehun could never hate him.

The probability of meeting someone you know halfway across the world is minuscule. The probability of that person being the man you loved in high school? Less than minuscule. What of the possibility that he might love you? Kim Jongin crushed his one in a million down to a zero.