Behind the Mask

Pairing(s): Junmyeon/Yifan

Summary: Yifan wonders if he even knows the people in his life at all.

Tags: Con Artists, Heartbreak

Yifan glanced across the room, bored. He fiddled with his watch, tweaking at the little dial beside the face. His parents would disapprove of his expression, their constant nagging at him to smile, Yifan or you’ll scare your suitors away.

Yifan was not interested in romancing anyone at all. Not after the man that got away.

He still seethed at it, angry at himself for falling for him, hook, line and sinker. There was nothing he would not have given to him, the moon and stars included. If he had only asked, Yifan would have moved mountains for him.

But he was gone. Taking Yifan’s heart and money with him.

Perhaps it should have been his warning sign. Junmyeon had such expensive taste. And he was wonderful in bed too, which more than made up for the exorbitant amount Yifan had spent to keep him happy.

Yifan’s toes curled just thinking about the time they had spent together holed up in his hotel room in Singapore, making out in the infinity pool. He could still see the way Junmyeon’s back muscles rippled as he stretched over the edge of the pool, sunlight dancing off pale skin in his mind’s eye.

The smell of chlorine burned his nostrils as he wrapped his arms around a slender waist, resting his chin onto Junmyeon’s shoulder. Junmyeon’s hair dripped water onto his cheek when he turned to press a kiss to Yifan’s lips.

“What’re you thinking about?” Yifan asked, breathing in deeply. He kissed the tip of Junmyeon’s nose, grinning when Junmyeon wrinkled it like a little bunny.

“You. Us,” Junmyeon said absently, tilting his head when Yifan leaned down to kiss him properly on the lips.

Yifan’s heart warmed when Junmyeon turned to face him, arms looping around his waist.

“I was thinking we could stay,” he whispered, “stay here, where no one knows who we are.”

Yifan blinked. He would be lying if he had not thought about it. Running away with Junmyeon, away from his parents and all their expectations. But he had responsibilities  to uphold and someone had to look out for Yixing in their cutthroat society.

Biting his lip, he smoothed a damp lock of hair away from Junmyeon’s face, kissing the top of his head.

“We can’t, sweetheart. My parents expect my return. You could come with me.”

Even then he saw Junmyeon’s mask slip. The rift opening between them at once. But he had let it slide, put it off as Junmyeon being in a weird mood.

Weeks later, Junmyeon’s number was unavailable, his hotel room empty, save for a cryptic letter that Yifan still kept. He would make off with Yifan’s heart and half his bank account while Yifan would spend nights awake, trying to track down the one man he had ever loved, wondering if he had agreed, if Junmyeon would still be there.

Now he wondered if Junmyeon had even been his real name, if anything between them had been real at all.

“Hey, you okay?” Yifan opened his eyes to see Yixing standing before him, holding a champagne flute in each hand. His cheeks were flushed, as if he already had more than one glass.

“Fine,” Yifan said, taking the glasses before Yixing could drop them. “How’re you holding up?”

Yixing shrugged. His eyes were glazed over. Yifan set the glasses down, catching him when he tottered forward.

“Alright, time to get you home,” he said, both amused and grateful that he had an excuse to leave the party early. Yixing made a muffled noise, shifting in his arms until they were chest to chest.

Yifan blinked hard. They were so close that he could count every individual lash on Yixing’s eyes and his gaze could not help but drift towards those plump, reddened lips. He shook off the thought immediately.

Yixing was his best friend. And the only person he had trusted enough to tell about Junmyeon. He would never try to make a move on him.

“Home,” he said firmly, shaking Yixing by the shoulders. “You’re drunk, Xing.”

Yixing hummed noncommittally, entangling their fingers together as Yifan led him out. Yifan fumbled for his phone with his free hand. He shot off a text to his parents letting them know where he was headed, sliding his phone back into his pocket just in time for Yixing to jolt upright at his side.

“What is it?’ he asked when Yixing turned his head sharply, his gaze following a young man in a black suit with tousled red hair.

The man leaned against the doorway, bright green eyes searching the crowd. His delicate fingers were wrapped around the stem of a wine glass and in the dim light, the liquid in his glass looked almost like blood.

“Suho,” Yixing said with startling clarity. All of his earlier drunkenness had faded away.

The man turned and Yifan’s stomach pitched.

Junmyeon.

He had dyed his hair and the green contacts altered his appearance drastically but there was no mistaking that face. His heart throbbed, a curse bubbling up in his throat. What was he, of all people doing here?

“Come on,” Yixing said, grabbing Yifan’s hand. He broke into a run just as the man looked up, recognition flashing across his face when he locked eyes with Yifan.

“Who is he?” Yifan gasped when Junmyeon/Suho turned, vanishing into the doorway behind him, “why do you know him?”

“I’ve been tracking that bastard for years. Figures he’d show his face here,” Yixing snapped, yanking Yifan forward. Even with his shorter stature, he was a much stronger runner than Yifan was.

Yifan blinked. He thought he knew everything about Yixing, from his first love to his biggest fear but right then, clutching his best friend’s hand, he had never felt more like a stranger.

“Who- who is he?” Yifan asked, already too afraid to know the answer, “and who are you?”

“He’s a con artist,” Yixing said, “and I’m the agent assigned to hunt him down.”