1998, Seoul

Eleven-year-old Wu Yifan feels his skin crawl. His classmates were gawking at him as he makes his way to the end of the aisle, from the door. His teacher’s hand had been warm against his back and rather than being comforted, the touch made his skin crawl in the very slightest.

He’s incredibly nervous and he thinks he’s going to throw up if he didn’t get to his seat soon enough. He’s really going to throw up and his classmates were going to make fun of him and he’s going to get bullied and this school year’s going to and, and, and –

“Yifan?”

Yifan, not realizing that he’d unconsciously screwed his eyes shut, bolted them open. He gazed openly at his teacher and the old woman stared at him confusedly.

“Are you okay, child?”

Yifan nodded, the action all jerky and awkward. He hadn’t understood what the teacher had said. His lips remain tightly sealed, not knowing an inch of the language causes that sometimes. His Korean vocabulary was all encompassing in its four words glory.

So Yifan just nodded. He tried to smile and his jaw hurt. He’s made to face the class, there’s approximately twenty-five other students staring at him. Yifan began to become drowsy as he rattled off the introduction he’d memorized by heart.

“Hello, my name is Wu Yifan. I am eleven years old. Nice to meet you.”

Yifan doesn’t remember his classmates’ reaction. The teacher beckoned him to his seat and he sat down beside a boy who’s smiling at him.

“Hi, I’m Junmyeon. I’m eleven too.” The boy said in perfectly accented Mandarin. The language is quickly processed by Yifan’s brain despite it being slightly garbled. He returned the boy’s smile. “My Korean is not good.”

“It’s okay…” Junmyeon ceased and he looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “Mandarin, not good. You want…I teach you Korean and,” the Korean gestured to himself, “You…Mandarin?”

The language was heavily accented and Yifan did not catch half of what Junmyeon had said, but he nodded anyway.

And that was the start of it, a nod. Little did Yifan know that he’ll never be able to erase the picture of Junmyeon’s bright smile long into the years.

 

//

2002, Seoul.

At fifteen, Yifan stood at an average of five feet and seven inches. He’s easily tallest amongst his friends and his limbs were all gangly and awkward.

His Korean had gotten a major improvement within the last five years and he’s able to speak the language almost fluently.

Suran Ahjumma, as he liked to refer to his best friend’s mother, was out and the house was free for their perusal. They haven’t even changed out of their sweaty uniforms and their school bags were messily dumped at a corner.

Junmyeon kept swatting at Jongdae, who’s scratching his stinky feet on the protruding embellishments of the coffee table. “When will you stop being so disgusting?” Yifan heard Junmyeon ask before he’s being shoved to the side. Jongdae shrugged, reaching for the bowl of chips.

“Perhaps never?” Jongdae answered. “Just play the movie already. You can’t make Jun Jihyun wait!”

Junmyeon scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Demanding.” Before pressing play on the remote. Yifan eyed his best friends in amusement. Their banters were mild in comparison to boys their age. Yifan thought it was convenient since he didn’t really appreciate inter-friendship altercations.

Junmyeon languidly stretched over, splayed his body all over Yifan’s laps. “This is boring.” Yifan chuckled as Junmyeon stared at him from his awkwardly chopped fringe. “But Jinhee kinda looks like Jun Jihyun though.”

Yifan squinted at the screen. “She kinda does? I don’t know.”

Junmyeon cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean you don’t know? Man, she’s like the prettiest girl in our batch. Kinda like those V.O.X girls, on TV.”

Yifan shrugged, he honestly couldn’t tell if Jinhee was as pretty as Jun Jihyun because he’s never found any girl pretty before. Yifan thought he should find it odd, but in retrospect, he couldn’t really care.

“I don’t know.” He reiterated. Junmyeon looked at him funnily and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Wu. You’re so weird.” So saying, he grabbed Yifan’s hand and placed it on top of his head. “But can you please scratch my head?”

It was then Yifan first felt it. It was like electricity surging through the place Junmyeon had touched. Yifan stared at his best friend and did his best to rake his fingers through Junmyeon’s oddly chopped hair.

His hand got clammy and he wondered why he felt like he needed to go to the bathroom because his stomach was doing all sorts of odd things. Jongdae continued to watch Jun Jihyun be pretty on screen and Yifan continued to stare at Junmyeon who’s already dozed off on his lap.

Fifteen-year-old Yifan didn’t know why he felt that about his best friend. But as Junmyeon gradually slept and snored on top of his thighs, Yifan had the oddest realization: he wanted to be this close to Junmyeon, every minute, every hour, every day.

It seemed odd, he didn’t know what to call it.

//

2004, Seoul

Yifan started to realize the reason why he didn’t find Jinhee pretty nor Jun Jihyun prettier.

He was seventeen years old when he realized he was attracted to boys. It wasn’t a horrifying realization. They were lounging on Jongdae’s room as the other teenager whined about wanting to get wasted, when it happened.

Jongdae’s parents divorced that year. The group wanted to distract him. Jongdae didn’t let it show but Yifan knew the implications of divorce. Either mom or dad was going to leave the house soon and build another family. Honestly, it baffled Yifan. Why do people want to get tied down if they were just going to tire of each other and eventually leave to repeat the process all over again? He thought it was stupid. But it didn’t make it any less painful to swallow. Jongdae masked it nicely though.

Yifan looked at the screen, they were watching Mission Impossible and he thought Ethan Hunt was really, really good looking. Yifan vaguely wondered what it felt like to be kissed by Ethan Hunt. He furrowed his eyebrows. What the ?

 He had excused himself and ran to the bathroom. He stared at the mirror; he looked ugly to be honest. And he was tall and lanky and very, very unattractive. Yifan splashed water on his face as he went over the notions of wanting to kiss Ethan Hunt, a noticeably male, fictional character.

“What the ?” He said to himself. “What the actual , Wu Yifan.”

Yifan blinked repeatedly and clutched the sink. He wasn’t sure how long he stared at himself on the mirror and repeatedly whispering what the to himself.

“Yah!” Junmyeon’s voice had cut through his sudden identity crisis. His heartrate increased and yet again, Yifan muttered another colorful string of profanities at his body’s odd reactions. It was betraying him. “Are you alive, or have you drowned in the toilet?”

Yifan laughed, unsteadily. “Junmyeon what the hell?!”

“Oh, you’re alive!” Junmyeon chuckled. “Anyway, hurry the hell up, we’re playing ball. Meet us downstairs when you’re finished.”

“Don’t forget to flush the toilet!” Came Jongdae’s voice. Yifan shook his head

 

Summer of 2004 was sweltering hot. But every time Junmyeon’s sweaty skin brushed against Yifan’s, the latter felt an odd sense of chilling anxiety ran down his spine. He couldn’t concentrate on the friendly game they were playing, his wits scattering beyond his control.

Yifan received a ball to his face due to his inability to concentrate. He groaned, falling onto the sizzling concrete of the basketball court. The sun blinded him.

“Damn,” Junmyeon reached an arm out and Yifan helplessly stared at his best friend. Junmyeon’s touch felt like it electrified Yifan’s skin. “You okay, you look like you’ve eaten something bad for lunch Wu. Feeling terrible?”

Yifan nodded as he heaved himself up. “I don’t think I can play anything today. This ing heat is getting to me.”

Yifan had high tailed out of their game even before Junmyeon could say anything. He needed to sort out his mind because these weird phenomena were getting out of hand.

 

It took three months for Yifan to admit to himself that he was gay. He was generally unafraid of his realization. After all, no one had to know and it wasn’t like he craved male attention that much to bring problems to himself. He just needed to stop overthinking every touch from his male friends and he was going to be fine. And if they knew, they weren’t going to judge him, right?

Yifan wasn’t really sure.

//

2005, Seoul

Yifan was three months short of his eighteenth birthday when his parents divorced. Four months prior he’d come out to his mother. She was very accepting, told Yifan he was perfectly okay if he was attracted to the same gender. Yifan could sense his mother’s distress but he didn’t comment on it. Her acceptance had been enough.

“Is it okay if I tell your father for you?” Xinran had asked him. The concern and imminent worry injected in his mother’s voice were palpable. Yifan chose to remain silent as he nodded and thanked her profusely.

His parents were blissfully unaware that Yifan had been listening to them argue and fight every night after his coming out. He braced himself against the door of his bedroom as his parents screamed at each other from the hallway. He closed his eyes, covered his ears, banging his head against the door every time his father uttered words dipped with malice.

What was so wrong about him anyway? He asked himself. Am I a ing abomination just because I prefer boys?

“This is your fault!” His father had screamed. “You think this is natural. You are so complacent!”

His mother held on told her husband every reason available on the surface of the planet. That yes, nothing was wrong with Yifan. Yifan’s father had slapped his mother for that, the sound oscillated against the walls of their house. Yifan’s heart froze, he stood up and threw the door open. His mother was on the floor, clutching her reddened cheek as she stared at her husband in shock.

“This is your fault.” The man seethed. Yifan found himself surging forward, unthinking, when he punched the same man who has been feeding him for years.

“Do not raise a hand on my mother.”

His father had a busted lip. The man had cuffed him, hard, that he half-choked Yifan and dragged him out of the house. “You think you’re all good now because your mother defended you?! Well go fend for yourself, I’m not having a son who’s a ing .”

Yifan had kissed the cold cement after his father had slammed the door against his face. Yifan wanted to scream, and he was so angry his fury manifested as tears that quietly trailed down his scuffed cheeks. Yifan hated himself for crying. He wasn’t some weak bastard who couldn’t handle this. He inhaled and wiped his face.

“ you.” he whispered against the door of his childhood home. He felt ing terrible, who was he kidding? He wanted to cry so badly. Instead he bit his own tongue so hard, he could have drawn blood.

Two blocks away, was the Kim’s residence. It was already 2 A.M and it was probably such an inconsiderate thing to do but Yifan was out of options; either he was going to let off some steam and beat someone up so badly or he’d go and disturb Junmyeon. He chose the latter.

 He got pebbles and threw it at Junmyeon’s window.

Three minutes later, a grouchy Junmyeon poked his head out of the window and stared angrily at Yifan. “What the , Wu? It’s ing 2 AM what do you want?” His best friend hissed. Yifan chuckled, Junmyeon looked cute.

“Let’s go have beer.”

Yifan knew Junmyeon sensed his distress. His best friend had a sharp tongue but he was also perceptive as hell. Junmyeon only sighed, as he nodded. He jumped off his window a few moments later, quietly landing on soft grass. “Eomma’s gonna ing have my head.” He was grinning.

“Then let’s come back before she realizes you’re gone.”

//

The convenience store sold cheap beer. They seamlessly lied to the half-asleep kid manning the register to procure some equally cheap cigarettes. They dumped their illicit haul on the plastic tables outside. Yifan laughed as Junmyeon wheezed and coughed on his first cigarette.

“Why do you even like this thing?” Junmyeon complained, eyeing the lighted cig in distaste. Yifan answered after taking a deep inhale, charring his cigarette in half. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Junmyeon had rolled his eyes. They don’t talk about heavy things, like their impending CSATs and the pressure of being admitted into the best universities. Junmyeon wanted to be a lawyer so his grades were top notch. On the other hand, Yifan dabbled on fine arts or music, if goes bad, he’ll just get a business major. He was unsure. They were unsure. They don’t talk about Yifan’s apparent distress either and Yifan had been infinitely thankful for that. Junmyeon was a great friend, he was someone who was willing to be there so that you don’t have to wallow on your misery alone, he won’t force you to open up either. Yifan didn’t really like to talk. After all, how the hell does he even tell his best friend, that he’s gay and[SR1] that his father probably will disown him for it?

So instead they drank piss-warm beer and Yifan continued to smoke amidst exchanging mundane anecdotes and privately snickering about their nonexistent romantic lives.

“I’m not really that excited to get laid anyway.” Junmyeon explained. “I don’t know how to handle women and Jongdae says they’re ing insane. Don’t know how true that is.”

“Bet it’s true considering half of the school’s population hates his guts.” Yifan answered. “I don’t know much about girls either. Not too excited to get laid either.”

“We have some serious hormone imbalance going on here. Puberty did us wrong.”

Yifan laughed, “Screw you Myeon.”

“Anyway, I’m really damn excited for college. You know, hope we could get into SNU or what. Then we’re going to have college girls running after us because we’re gonna move on from this phase and we’re gonna be so ing hot everyone will want us.”

“Doubt that.” Yifan chuckled. “You’re a midget, no one’s gonna want you.”

“Ah you Wu, you’re a lanky noodle so no one’s going to want you either.”

Yifan laughed hard. At that moment, he was really thankful for Junmyeon’s existence and not because he harbored some weird feelings for his best friend but just because he was a great person who’d drink beer with Yifan at 3 am and risk his mother’s wrath. Junmyeon would be the person who knew Yifan just needed someone to distract him from his thoughts.

Junmyeon was a good person, and an even better best friend.

 

Yifan’s parents had divorced three months before he turned eighteen. His father had looked at him in disgust. His mother didn’t bother to give her would-be ex-husband anything he could brag about.

The house was under his mother’s name so Yifan’s bastard father didn’t have the chance to stake claim on the property. Yifan had admired his mom and her fierce protection of him. Above all else, his mother accepted him for who he was and Yifan was more than thankful for that.

 

Three months past his eighteenth birthday and a few months shy of their high school graduation, Yifan had met Zhang Yixing.

 The other was a transferee from China who enrolled in the middle of the school year to get his final units for the CSATs. The student was charming, and Yifan found himself enthralled.

Yifan knew it was taboo but Yixing was the first person who had given Yifan this sort of indescribable urge to be in a relationship with someone.

The friendship quickly turned into something else. Yifan liked Yixing a lot and apparently Yixing somehow returned the gesture. They started dating, well if you could call shared lunches, movie marathons and awkward kisses, as such. It was a brief affair as some people just didn’t know how not to snoop on his business.

The rumor (which was undeniably true) got out of hand so fast.

“So, heard from the seniors that you’re ing the new transferee. Or are you the one who’s getting ed?”

Yifan sighed, looking around as the infamous squad of junior pests surround him.

“So?” Yifan tried to keep his tone cool and composed as he thought of the quickest way to get rid of the bullies. He wasn’t much of a fan of getting into trouble since he’s about to graduate for ’s sake.

“What so? Is it true?”

Yifan tips up an eyebrow. They were some feisty kids. “And why do I have to tell you?”

The taunt launched an aggressive, hormonally imbalanced teenager at him. Just because Yifan preferred boys, it didn’t mean he couldn’t throw a mean punch himself. He had a blackbelt in Hapkido for that.

The junior was furious and Yifan had no idea where all the ire was coming from. He didn’t even know these kids and he wasn’t one for getting into fights either. He kicked the first teenager who launched his fist at him and the younger boy promptly kissed the ground. Yifan was about to hightail the out of there if it weren’t for the rest of the boys surrounding him. “Ah, .”

He was outnumbered, seven to one.

Thankfully, by some weird miracle, Junmyeon appeared from the corner. Yifan stared at him and Junmyeon hadn’t thought twice about punching the boy nearest to him, he didn’t think about what this would do to his college application. Junmyeon was the senior representative as well as the president of the student council and he obviously shouldn’t have been involved with some altercation even if it concerned his best friend.

But Junmyeon got into that fight.

The brawl dispersed when a teacher came to break it off. Yifan had a bleeding brow and Junmyeon sported a cut-up lip. The teacher looked at Junmyeon very balefully. Yifan’s head really hurt so he didn’t hear the teacher’s disappointments about the student body president’s actions, said in rapid fire Korean.

“Jesus, Kim.” Yifan sighed. He tried to glance at Junmyeon’s who’s lying on the infirmary bed next to him. “You shouldn’t have done that. It’s gonna be my damn fault when you don’t get into SNU. Your mother’s going to ing wring my neck.”

Junmyeon chuckled. “You’re welcome you ing ungrateful bastard. Those juniors were going to pulverize your bones.”

“As if I couldn’t handle them.” Yifan shook his head, amused at the conversation they were having. “Let’s just hope the school wouldn’t let this incident leak into your college applications.”

They were quiet for a long time. Yifan’s brow was throbbing in pain and he began to hate those junior kids for doing this to him.

“Wu?”

“Hmm?”

“Rumors are going around the campus about you and that Zhang kid, how true are they?”

Yifan hadn’t understood why the words automatically jangled his nerves.

“That I’m ing him?” Yifan’s tone didn’t belie his anxieties. He just hoped Junmyeon wouldn’t ask more questions.

“I don’t know.” Junmyeon answered. “Anyway, I don’t really give a about whom you’re trying to . Just, I don’t know, tell me alright? You’re a ty friend, but you’re still my damn best friend. I’ll go help you beat people up.”

It wasn’t an outright acceptance. Yifan looked at Junmyeon. He wanted to tell him that yes, the rumors were true but he just didn’t want to risk his friendship with him if Junmyeon heard the truth straight from his mouth.

Yifan was really a ty friend, but he was also Junmyeon’s damn best friend and more than anything he treasured his relationship with Junmyeon a lot.

“Just because the Zhang kid and I talk in a language not everyone understands doesn’t mean I’m ing him.” Yifan said, already feeling sorry for Yixing. “I don’t even know who started those wild rumors. The juniors really love stirring up now, huh.”

Junmyeon’s obvious exhale of relief stirred something bitter inside the deepest parts of Yifan. He didn’t understand why he felt so disappointed…saddened by his best friend’s relief. Why did being gay matter so much?

Yifan screwed his eyes shut and mentally counted to calm his emotions.

Why did he have to be like this? Why did Junmyeon’s acceptance mattered so much? Why did it matter so much?

, I hate this.

“Well, juniors are really some of the tiest folks we have in this place. Damn insane, if you asked me.”

//

Surprisingly, both Yifan and Junmyeon managed to get into Seoul National University. Their mothers wept in joy, told long tales about their endless prayers in the temples and that they had very smart sons who would become successful people one day.

Three days before their high school graduation, Yixing quietly called it quits between them. The other Chinese had gotten into Yonsei with Jongdae. Yixing had told him he had been a good boyfriend, and nothing was wrong with him but they were going to be attending different universities and Yixing didn’t want to have that kind of relationship with him.

Yifan was relieved for reasons he couldn’t ponder.

 

Their graduation ceremony was a grand affair. Junmyeon’s very supportive family huddled around him for pictures and Junmyeon smiled brightly in each one. He was their batch’s valedictorian, the school’s pride.

Yifan had smiled to himself when their picture was taken – they’re connected by the hip, the height difference is very noticeable now – and they both grinned at Mrs. Kim’s old Nikon.

Everyone knew Junmyeon as the poster son of a typical middle-class family but the fact that Junmyeon helped him beat up problematic underclassmen would be a tale for following years.

//

2006, Seoul.

At 19, Yifan and Junmyeon were freshmen in SNU. The former was a fine arts major; the latter, a law major. The first few months of college could be akin to being tossed inside a washing machine.

The transition phase was great, nothing too shocking. Yifan’s new-found independence was also a bonus, but the real problem was adjusting to Junmyeon’s constant presence in his life.

Yifan didn’t understand why being so close to his best friend caused a new wave of anxiety. Junmyeon has been his friend for almost ten years, and it has been a good decade with him and yet, Yifan couldn’t understand why bile seemed to rise up his throat whenever Junmyeon was too near and pranced inside their shared dorm with only his boxers on.

Yifan didn’t want to harbor such thoughts about his best friend, but Junmyeon made it hard for him.

//

The first few months were quite alright. Two weeks before the new term, they got a place near SNU, a good-enough-apartment for broke college kids, who weren’t going to be depending on their parents for rent money.

The apartment had two rooms, a tiny bathroom, and a kitchen and sitting room divided by a breakfast counter. It was bare, sans a ratty old mattress which they’ve discarded for health reasons. Junmyeon unscientifically deduced they were going to get dysentery just by going near it.

Yifan’s mom and Junmyeon’s parents were there when they moved, armed with new beds, mattresses, kitchen utensils and a stove. Junmyeon’s mother had joked that if they were going to want to watch television they’ll have to buy it themselves. Junmyeon had begged and pouted enough, his mother relented and bought them a puny set for the sitting room.

The first few months of college were glorious. Independence was the trend and Yifan was following the tide. They went to college parties thrown by upperclassmen, got sloshed too many times to properly function at nine A.M lectures the following day. In retrospect, life was pleasant.

 

 Life was even more pleasant when Lu Han came into the picture.

He’d been a few months older than Yifan, they were in the same department and both equally enthralled with bad poetry. Yifan had met Han during an open mic held at some obscure society house outside their campus. The other had been so beautiful, doe eyes, slender neck and the most glorious tuft of silver hair. He looked like he was taken out of those manhwas or Yifan was less than sober from drinking plastic cup after plastic cup of the questionably fruity liquid being passed around. 

It was 2007.

Han had smiled at him, told Yifan he liked Monet more than Picasso or Da Vinci and that he didn’t like poetry that much but his friend had urged him to give it a go.

 Yifan had been literally swept off his feet. He knew Han swings that way, he just knew and by the end of the night, Han had typed in his phone number on Yifan’s N95.

The dating was brief and by their third date, Yifan had bracketed Han against the door of his own dorm room, kissed marks down his neck while his hand was down the older’s pants.

The relationship was great even though it was tightly kept under wraps. Yifan contented himself with the smallest things, he liked slotting Han’s fingers against his own under the table, he liked getting to leave a lingering kiss on the man’s lips behind closed doors. Yifan had been so contented.

The bliss lasted for ten months and he was so in love with the doe eyed man. He thought it was something that would have lasted.

Han was, considerably, the root cause of Yifan’s first heart break. Yifan had his first taste of what it meant to be cruel when Han had enumerated the reasons he called it quits. The thing was, it was more than the standard ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse nor was it, ‘it’s just not working anymore’.

“You can’t give me what I want.”

Yifan’s mind reeled. And he couldn’t find answers, couldn’t find the words to defend himself. Yifan stood there and soaked up everything Lu Han had told him and it lanced, it hurt. He felt like he’d stood there and bled.

Yifan wanted to ask him, what more could you want? They were in a society where the littlest thing such as being capable to love, regardless if it’s of the same gender, is ostracized. Yifan would have given Han the world if the world wouldn’t be hell bent on destroying them.

Maybe he was a coward and maybe Han just wanted to be paraded around because he was honestly someone that should have been paraded around. But Yifan didn’t have courage to show the world who he was and all he could do was to love, truly and sincerely even if they were only the ones who knew. For some people, maybe it just wasn’t enough.

Yifan didn’t cry; he couldn’t cry not in front of the first person who’d broken his heart.

Yifan clearly remembered Junmyeon’s slumped form. He had been poring over his books then. Law wasn’t easy but it’s as if Junmyeon had been built for the profession. His best friend had stared at him, and Junmyeon had this look in his eyes. It was something Yifan saw in him, back when they were twelve when Yifan had fallen off his bicycle and almost broke his tibia, when they were sixteen when Yifan got severely reprimanded for ditching late night self-study sessions at school, when he came out to his mother at seventeen. Junmyeon quietly saved the essay he’d been typing and folded his laptop in place. “Do you wanna get a drink? Jongdae was offering.”

Yifan would always be infinitely grateful for Junmyeon’s uncanny ability to read him like he’s an open book.

The taller sat beside Junmyeon on the couch and cradled his head on his palms. He was so dizzy and suddenly he had this urge to tuck his head under Junmyeon’s chin, hug him and maybe just forget the whole damn world for a while.

“You tired?” Yifan translated this into you okay and he shook his head.

“I could do with some alcohol though. Let’s get wasted.”

Junmyeon chuckled and threw his arm on top of Yifan’s broad shoulders to pull him closer. Yifan wanted to melt against Junmyeon’s side. He closed his eyes.

//

Seoul, 2008

Losing Han had set off Yifan’s self-destruct button.

That’s the thing about first time heart breaks. Yifan couldn’t compare it with the things that had pained him before so generally there was nothing to compare it to. Yifan didn’t know how to cope.

His misery was evident in his art, clear lines of black and pale greys– Junmyeon had told him it was ambiguous as – and when he used colors everything was in such a disarray it was almost nauseating. But it had been some of his best paintings. And maybe, that’s why artists work better under pressure or when in pain because they have something to channel their emotions into.

But it wasn’t enough for Yifan. Han’s words echoed through him, resonated into the deepest parts of his conscious and he couldn’t shake the thoughts out of his head. It was torture.

He’d distracted himself with people. Independence was nice and ing without strings was nicer. Yifan realized that things were better without commitment. After all, why bother with a relationship when in the first place all people wanted was to get him out of his clothes. It was freeing, at first, or maybe he’d been too drunk to notice how miserable he was.

And there’s Junmyeon, the ever constant in his life as he spiraled into a mess he created in his own volition.

He’s not sure how Junmyeon managed to not ask where he’d been when he reeked of cigarette smoke and a stranger’s perfume. He’d spent the better part of 2008 ing people to get Lu Han out of his system. It was a stretch and every time Yifan went home, he hated himself a little bit more.

He was drunk enough one time, swaying his way inside his and Junmyeon’s apartment. The other man had been watching the television. Yifan’s head ached and he reeked of . It was overwhelming; he just couldn’t compartmentalize everything that’s been hitting him from all sides.

For the first and last time, he cried. He pressed his face onto Junmyeon’s shirt and clutched at the fabric until he could feel his nails dig against the skin of his own palm. Junmyeon hadn’t said anything as he held him. He was a ship sailing steadily amidst the raging seas that were Yifan’s emotions.

Junmyeon hadn’t asked questions. He let Yifan cry himself dry and ran his palms against Yifan’s back. Yifan wished Junmyeon had said something instead.

 

There’s no process to moving on. You can’t simply tell yourself to stop – stop longing for someone, stop caring for someone, stop loving someone – it doesn’t work that way. You’d bled until there was nothing left and then time would do its wonders, help push the memories at the back of your head so they don’t haunt you even when you’re awake.

Junmyeon’s existence had helped. Yifan realized he needed a constant, something or in his case, someone, to be always there. Junmyeon was always there.

His best friend had helped pick up the pieces. Junmyeon’s company was more than a slap on band-aid for Yifan’s deep metaphorical wounds. Junmyeon anchored him to reality; he reminded Yifan that there was so much more to life.

It wasn’t moving on but Junmyeon have always managed to fill the gaps that people have left in Yifan’s life.

//

 Seoul, 2009

A tragedy had befallen Junmyeon’s family the following year.

And for the first time in his life, Yifan had seen Junmyeon –  his best friend who always seemed so strong, so resilient; Junmyeon who’d fought all sorts of odds and came out victorious – fall and sob.

Lee Suran, Junmyeon’s mother, died in 2009.  

It was cancer, something Junmyeon didn’t even know existed, until the moment he had to endure the fact that his mother had passed away. He couldn’t even say goodbye.

“It was your mother’s wish.”

Junmyeon looked gaunt wearing a funeral suit, he was half dead as he stared at his mother’s picture.

“I’m sorry, son. But your mother, she loved you.”

It was all painful for Yifan and he wondered how Junmyeon could endure so much. The man had cried once and Yifan didn’t even think of comforting him because he knew Junmyeon didn’t deal with pain like he does. Yifan tried to be there, tried to let Junmyeon know he would always be there for him.

After Suran had been laid to rest; Junmyeon emerged a changed man.

Yifan watched him succumb to depression, a void so deep even Yifan failed to completely pull him out of it.

Junmyeon was totally damaged and out of control. He coped with his mother’s loss with alcohol and . Yifan couldn’t count the seemingly endless number of nights when Junmyeon carried intoxication like it was his shadow.

Kim Junmyeon was probably the last person who broke Yifan’s heart. Yes, at that time, Yifan realized he was completely in love with his best friend.

It was a gradual thought that culminated into an eventual realization. In retrospect, he has always been in love with Junmyeon, ever since they were fifteen when Yifan began to see himself with his best friend in all his future plans.

 It wasn’t like Yixing or even Lu Han because Yifan loved Junmyeon when he was at his worst. Yifan loved Junmyeon when Junmyeon had been incapable of loving someone else.

And Junmyeon broke his heart because he refused to let Yifan in. Yifan didn’t want to fix him, Yifan wanted to be there as Junmyeon fixed himself.

But Junmyeon wanted to hide behind a façade; that’s just how he is. After all, it’s Yifan who was always in constant need of everything Junmyeon could offer. Junmyeon didn’t need Yifan like how Yifan needed Junmyeon.

//

Seoul, 2010

Yifan had been there when Junmyeon fell in love.

Bae Joohyun was beautiful, an underclassman a year younger than them. She was a music major, with the most gorgeous pair of hazel eyes. She smiled at Junmyeon, the kind of smile where everyone would have fallen in love within moments of being near her.

Joohyun pulled Junmyeon out of his shell, the same shell wherein he gradually destroyed himself. Joohyun fixed him, because Junmyeon had allowed her to. It was beautiful; Junmyeon was finally happy again.

Believe it or not, Yifan was so glad for them.

Yifan had prioritized Junmyeon’s happiness and it didn’t matter that the person he’s always been in love with was falling for another human being, who’s so perfect Yifan could never begin to compare himself with.

He was in so much pain, but it didn’t matter. That’s the essence of loving someone.

You see, Yifan wanted Junmyeon to be the subject of his most treasured art works, Junmyeon was his biggest inspiration.

Junmyeon was still Yifan’s biggest inspiration, he painted because Junmyeon was falling in love with a person he could never be. Yifan made them his inspiration, he painted about Junmyeon’s love.

 He made them his direst inspirations.

Yifan’s theory about how artists produced better works when they’re in pain, was proven correct for the second time. In 2010, Yifan had painted the most gorgeous portraits, lauded by his professors, appreciated by connoisseurs and casual collectors alike.  He transformed his pain into paintings; his suffering was beautiful when projected into a canvas.

He worked better at the crack of dawn, ironically. Because that’s when he missed Junmyeon the most. Yifan realized then, that he’d always be longing for someone who will remain a character in a love story that will never be his.

//

Seoul, 2011.

Junmyeon proposed to Bae Joohyun after a year of dating.

She cried as Junmyeon slipped the diamond engagement ring – the ring Yifan had designed for her on Junmyeon’s request – on her finger. Yifan stood in the background, smiling widely.

Junmyeon was pulverizing the crushed remains of his heart but it was okay, Junmyeon was so ing happy when she said yes.

Junmyeon kissed her; she wrapped her arms around his neck to draw him closer. They painted a pretty picture and Yifan would have wanted to capture this memory forever.

His best friend stared at him, there was this smile on his face and Yifan thought he was so beautiful. Yifan smiled back and in that moment, he wished Junmyeon love and happiness above all else.

His chest ached.

 

--

Junmyeon’s body is warm as he pressed against Yifan’s side. He quietly nursed his warming can of beer while Yifan sighed and inhaled another drag from his cigarette. The smoke produced a hypnotizing billow.

“Wu?”

“Hmm?”

“I just wonder if you ever dated anybody in the last few years. You never told me anything.”

Yifan chuckled as he stubbed the charred remains of his cigarette.

“I think I dated once. Lots of them are one night stands to be ing honest.”

Junmyeon scoffed and shook his head. “I had an inkling you were sleeping around. Nice huh, ing without strings attached.”

“I wish I could say that.” Yifan said, “It doesn’t bring much satisfaction. I wanted to experience that soul searing feeling everyone’s hung up on. But it’s clearly not for me after all.”

Junmyeon took a long gulp of his liquor and remained mute for an indefinite amount of time. He turned around and stared at Yifan.

“Will you tell me something, have you ever fallen in love?”

Yifan volleyed Junmyeon’s gaze and there was a smile on his face. “Yes.”

“Who?”

Yifan didn’t think too much when he answered, clearly and honestly, a simple word: “You.”

Junmyeon continued to stare at him and then he laughed, shoving Yifan’s broader form. “Ah you Wu, seriously you.”

Yifan was so good at playing pretend and masking his emotions around Junmyeon that hiding his pain had become child’s play. He laughed with his best friend who thought his honest confession was nothing but a good joke.

“Can’t you just be serious for once!” Junmyeon laughed and tackled him towards the ground. Yifan’s heart raced and ached at the same time. “I was trying to be all concerned and . You ing bastard, you scared me!”

Yifan continued to laugh and he sounded so genuinely amused to his ears; he wondered how he made it work.

“But Wu, just if you ever meet someone, tell me alright.”

“I will.” Yifan answered still laughing, “But it’s probably not gonna happen since I’m already so in love with you.”

“Stop it!”

It hurt, a lot. But Yifan was still grateful for a lot of things. He’s grateful that he has someone like Junmyeon in his life, even if they will never be more than anything but friends. He’ll be grateful and he hoped that he’ll always be in Junmyeon’s life, even if it’s for heartaches or for love.

--

Seoul, 2012

Bae Joohyun looked even more beautiful in a white dress.

Yifan stood and watched beside his best friend who was trying so hard to contain his tears.

Junmyeon looked at Joohyun like she was his whole world, and Yifan looked at Junmyeon like he was his whole world.

The ache calmly settled into Yifan’s chest and it wasn’t something that seared; Yifan welcomed the pain for he vowed to himself that this was the end of it. He’s had enough of hurting. So, for the last time, Yifan stood by his best friend and watched as Junmyeon promised that he would love Joohyun in sickness and health, until death do them part.

When they kissed, they painted the most beautiful picture. They always seem to paint the most perfect picture.

 

Yifan tried to hide the shaking of his fingers.

It was November and the glass windows were fogged over but inside the reception hall, it was warm.

“This is supposed to be our secret,” Yifan started, his voice was steady. Junmyeon glanced at him and let out a short chuckle. “But I think Joohyun deserves to know.”

The guests laughed.

“During our last year of high school –it was three months before graduation honestly – Junmyeon punched an underclassman for me. At that time, all the teachers loved him. He was model student extraordinaire but he threw that all away after seeing his lanky best friend in trouble.”

Yifan smiled, “Kim, I never really thanked you about that incident back then; so don’t expect that I’m saying it now.”

Junmyeon was laughing amongst the guests and Joohyun was smiling. They looked perfect, Yifan was happy.

“Anyway, I just want you – “ he turned to Joohyun,  “to know that Junmyeon will always be there. I guarantee it. He’s a man of few words and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t got one romantic bone in his body but I assure you that Junmyeon will always be there, to support you, to protect you…to love you. So, love him in return, love each other, because the both of you deserve it more than anyone else.”

Love him, and please remember that when you hold his hand, when you kiss him and when you wake up beside him every morning, someone would die just to be in your place. Love him, cherish him, because that’s what he deserves.

Love him, because I can’t; not in that way. Love him, for me.

 

Yifan cut contact with his best friend right after the wedding. It was selfish and cruel but he was dying and maybe he needed to be away, to lose contact, to chip even just a portion of Junmyeon away from his heart before it killed him.

So, he did.

__

 

6 years later.

Seoul, 2018

Winter

 

Yifan groans when a body throws itself on top of him. The body squirms about and kicks the covers away from Yifan’s legs screeching, “papa, papa wake up!” in that whiny voice that cuts right through Yifan’s half asleep brain.

“Wu Boxian, five more minutes.” Yifan complains, tackling his son in his embrace. “Let papa sleep, I’m tired.”

Boxian, or Baekhyun translated to the child’s mother tongue, successfully slobbers Yifan’s face with kisses that could rival Mongryeong’s, their pet corgi.

“No, wake up papa! School! friends!”

Yifan sighs and hauls his long body away from the bed. Baekhyun’s already jumped from the mattress, his little five-year-old body shaking in barely suppressed mirth. God, Yifan thinks, it’s six-thirty in the morning!

“Alright, papa is up.” It’s spoken in Korean so Baekhyun tries his very hardest to process the language. “Where is your brother?” Yifan reverts to English.

“Chan-ie is still sleeping! You need to wake him up, he won’t wake up!”

Yifan smiles as he follows his eldest outside the bedroom. His sons’ room is right across the master’s bedroom and when he opens the door to the still cluttered quarters, his sees his youngest spread eagled on the bed, his canary yellow blanket tangled around his legs.

“Let your brother sleep. He’ll wake up soon.”

“Okay.”

 

Yifan moved to the States in 2013, met and married his now ex-husband.

The change of environment was impulsive. Yifan forced himself to move on, and he followed his own advice with near surgical precision. He dated once, fooled himself that he was madly in love – when in retrospect, he was probably just mad – and got married.  

They adopted Baekhyun and Chanyeol the following year. The boys were spaced a few months apart – Wu Baekhyun was born May of 2013; Wu Chanyeol, November. Baekhyun had been a year old when they adopted him, while Chanyeol was an eight-month-old baby.

Yifan didn’t want to be alone. He’d been lucky when he met his ex-husband, a truly kind man who realized all too soon that Yifan will never love him. They have had good memories even with so much emotional baggage in between.

Fast forward six years, a benign divorce and another big move then you have the current Wus. Yifan’s very much a successful graphic artist and renders his services to a lot of movie production houses. He does casual graphic design for big companies and private clients when he’s not up to anything better. He’s not that rich but he makes enough for his family to live comfortable lives.

“Papa, will I get to see uncle Yixing today?” Baekhyun tries his hardest to speak in his mother tongue, Yifan finds it adorable. The man flips the pancakes and nods, “Uh-huh. Maybe you will.”

Yifan never really lost contact with Zhang Yixing. Yifan admitted that he denied having a romantic relationship with Yixing back in high school but they were behind all those now. Yixing’s comfortably settled in South Korea nursing his single life in full contentment, he’s also a music producer and his work ethic wasn’t cut out for relationships not to mention, family.

When Yifan decided to move back to Seoul to let his boys experience their homeland, Yixing had been there.

It’s been three months into a new country, and approximately three days into their new apartment. Yifan still has boxes to unpack.

“Papa will the school be nice? They won’t bully Chanyeol-ie right?”

Yifan puts the plate of pancakes in front of Baekhyun and pretends to think. “Of course, they won’t. You’ll protect your brother for me and if someone makes Yeol cry you’ll tell the teacher. Do you understand Baek?”

Baekhyun vigorously nods his head. “Of course!”

Suddenly, Chanyeol’s soft footsteps precede his appearance in the kitchen. Yifan smiles at his son, who’s rubbing his eyes in that adorable child-like way.

“Good morning Yeol-ah. Had good dreams?”

Chanyeol nods and returns the greeting, his voice comes out tiny.

Chanyeol’s a very sensitive kid, he cries and scares easily. So unlike his older brother who’s boisterous and more than confident for his age. They are polar opposites but Yifan doesn’t love them any lesser.

Yifan’s youngest trudges towards him and latches his short arms around Yifan’s waist – his own way of asking to be carried – and Yifan always indulges.

“Do you want milk?”

Chanyeol nods.

“Are you excited for school today?”

Chanyeol shakes his head and hides his face on Yifan’s neck. He’s muttering a long string of no, no, no. It’s breaking Yifan’s heart.

“But if you’re not going to go to school then Hyun-ie would be sad. Do you want your hyung to be sad?”

“No.”

“Then will you come with Hyun-ie to school?”

“Okay, papa. I will.”

“Such a good boy. Go eat your pancakes.” Yifan puts Chanyeol down with an indulgent pat to his head.  “I’ll drive you both today and maybe later we’ll go see something at the cinemas, do you guys like that? Then we’d go have cake with uncle Yixing.”

Baekhyun whoops a loud “Yay!” almost hitting his glass of milk. Chanyeol smiles.

A day in the life.

//

Not even five hours later, a call comes in and derails Yifan from his current task of re arranging the house. He picks up his phone and answers without glancing at the caller ID and when he hears Chanyeol’s short hiccupping voice, he promptly forgets what he was doing.

“Chanyeol-ah what happened?”

“Papa, Hyun-ie – “ Chanyeol is sobbing now.

“Just stay where you are, papa will come right away. Can you give the phone to your teacher?”

Yifan grabs his wallet and car keys as he waits for Chanyeol to obey him.

“Hello, this is teacher Lee –“

“I’m Yifan, Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s father. What happened to my kids? My youngest had called me and he was crying.”

“I’m really sorry about this Yifan-ssi. It’s been a misunderstanding among the kids. They’re fine.”

Yifan sighs, “I’m picking up my kids. I’m sorry too.”

 

 

“We’re really sorry ahjussi.”

Yifan had been expecting the worse. Thankfully, neither Chanyeol nor Baekhyun is harmed.

The two kids before him look oddly familiar. One has unruly hair, the other has the softest looking amber eyes. Currently, the kids bow their heads as if they’ve been severely reprimanded when in reality, Yifan hasn’t even said anything just yet. Baekhyun is still splotchy from crying and Chanyeol’s cowering behind Yifan’s long legs.

“We’re really sorry.” The amber eyed child reiterates. Baekhyun merely pouts and gives them the silent treatment. The action causes the two apologizing kids to blubber and in the next minute, Yifan has four children clamoring and crying around him. He sighs, this is going to be a long, long day.

Yifan bends down and puts his large palms on top of amber eyes’ shoulder and says very evenly, “Will you tell me what happened?”

Please Subscribe to read the full chapter