The first time Heechul met Han Geng it was in a gay bar.

Heechul worked as the bartender there not because he wanted to pick up guys but because guys wanted to pick up him. It was the beauty of acting and looking gay, without actually being gay. It got him good tips.

When Han Geng walked into the bar on a slow Wednesday night Heechul was confused because Han Geng was not gay. It was obvious from the way he walked and slumped into an empty seat, head hitting the table as he mumbled for a beer.

Heechul let him be for a little while before he decided it would be fun to try and talk to him; he was different from the usual guys he got to talk to.

“Why are you here?” Heechul asked as he cleaned a glass and placed it on the shelf.

Han Geng’s only answer was to raise his glass and take a swig before placing it down and tracing the beads of sweat that were gathering on the side of it.

“Bad day?” Heechul prodded further. He didn’t really have a sense of when to stop pushing.

“Girlfriend dumped me.” Han Geng answered and Heechul detected an accent.

“Your girlfriend dumped you so you came to a gay bar. I guess it makes sense, you don’t want to be hit on and you are cute so if you went anywhere else some girls would try to flirt. You are a smart man.” Heechul said and then left to help another customer before coming back to Han Geng.

“So, Heechul...” Han Geng started, leaning in close to read Heechul’s name tag, “If you think I am cute, does that mean you are gay?”

“Nope, I am straight as a pin. What about you…?” Heechul said with a wink, leaving an obvious pause after the ‘you’ to show he wanted to know the man’s name.

“Han Geng; I am as straight as you are.”

That was how they met. A long night and too many beers to count later, Han Geng was wasted and Heechul was walking him back to his place because Han Geng refused to tell him where he lived.

When Han Geng woke up the next morning he found himself in a strange room, in a bed that was not his own, and his shirt was off. He walked out of the bedroom to the sound of pots clashing to the ground.

“Why am I here and what happened to my shirt?” Han Geng asked as he sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. He had a pounding headache from a nasty hangover.

“You are here because I practically had to carry you out of the bar you were so drunk and you wouldn’t tell me where you lived. As for your shirt, maybe you got hot and took it off?” Heechul suggested as he put a cup of coffee down in front of Han Geng.

“Are you sure nothing…did we?” Han Geng began to ask but couldn’t seem to find the right words; Heechul got what he meant anyway.

“I told you, I am straight.” Heechul said and went back to cooking. At least that’s what Han Geng thought he was doing, but all he could smell was burning food.

“You work in a gay bar, I highly doubt you are straight.” Han Geng murmured into his coffee.

“And you said you are as straight as I am, so does that mean you doubt you are straight?” Heechul worked out as he turned around to face Han Geng, a devilish twinkle in his eye.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” Han Geng muttered as he met Heechul’s gaze with a smirk. That was all Heechul needed, he kissed him.

Heechul hadn’t been lying when he told Han Geng he was straight. He simply changed his mind that night as he carried Han Geng home with him and tucked him into bed. It really changed when he watched Han Geng squirm under the blankets before tearing his shirt off because he was so hot. The muscles that had been hidden under the shirt were now revealed to him, and while he wasn’t ripped he wasn’t nearly as ungodly skinny as Heechul was. The sight made Heechul’s stomach churn, and that’s how he knew.

“You were so lying to me that night when you told me you were straight!” Han Geng whined as they sat, snuggled up on the couch with a movie playing that they weren’t watching.

Heechul couldn’t believe that they were having this argument; again.

“I told you Hannie, I was straight until I met you!” Heechul argued and Han Geng just rolled his eyes.

“It’s because I’m Chinese.” Han Geng uttered and Heechul just stared at him in disbelief.

“So not true; I love you because you are you.” Heechul stated simply and refused to look at Han Geng, but focused on the TV that was nothing but a blur of moving blobs to him.

He heard Han Geng let out a huff though and he couldn’t help but mutter: ‘the Chinese was just a bonus.’ When he looked at Han Geng after he said it he saw the obvious smile.

“Come to my dance recital?” Han Geng pleaded early that morning as he made them breakfast. After Heechul’s food that first morning Han Geng vehemently refused to eat any of his cooking and reassured him that he was more than ok with making all their meals because he preferred to live.

“Do I have to?” Heechul whined.

Han Geng was a dance student at the University of Music in Seoul. He studied a lot of modern hip hop, which Heechul loved to come and watch because he found it a total turn on. Han Geng had to be weird though and study ballet as well. When Han Geng said the word ‘recital’ Heechul was out.

“Please, just this once?” Han Geng said and put on the cute face and Heechul caved; he was a er for the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, but I better get something in return.” Heechul said with a wink and then went to their bedroom to find something to wear.

Heechul sat in the audience and when he looked around all he saw was girls.

‘Great, all the other boyfriends got out of coming to this thing except me.’ Heechul thought as the lights in the place lowered and everybody got quiet.

As Heechul watched he was less bored than he thought he would be. Han Geng was the only guy in the entire thing, and while he did appreciate the site of his lover in a tight leotard, the thought of him in a tutu kept popping into his head.

By the end of the show Heechul was as hell because what he saw did nothing to keep his imagination from running wild. Han Geng came out to him and hugged him tight.

“Did you like it?” He asked eagerly.

“Sure, but I know what I want as payment.” Heechul said and Han Geng’s smile faded into an anxious scowl.

“You…tutu.” Was all Heechul whispered into Han Geng’s ear and he saw the smile return to his face.

When they were walking out two minutes later Han Geng opened his bag to reveal a small piece of pink lace to Heechul who simply smirked in response. Han Geng thought Heechul’s request was a little ridiculous, but because he was Heechul he would let him get what he wanted. Heechul could always get what he wanted.

Heechul could not, however, magically extend Han Geng’s visa. He had come to Korea on a student visa and now that Han Geng was graduating in a week he had to go back to China before he could return with a work visa. The worst part was: Han Geng didn’t know if he could even get a work visa or a job in Korea.

Han Geng’s family missed him, and being the momma’s boy that he was he wanted to stay and make them happy. At the same time he didn’t want to leave Heechul. He needed Heechul. As weird as their relationship was, it worked and he loved it.

“Promise me you’ll come back. Promise me there won’t be anyone else; that it is just the two of us forever. Hannie, please, I love you.” Heechul cried as Han Geng explained that he was going back to China after graduation and that he didn’t know when or if he would be coming back.

“I can’t, I’m sorry Heechul, but I can’t make promises I don’t know if I can keep.” Han Geng said as he tried to pull Heechul into a comforting embrace, but the latter just pulled away harshly.

“Then answer me this; did this mean anything to you? Did you even love me, or was I just a game; a way to get over that girl? Because Han Geng, you mean everything to me.” Heechul continued crying, the tears pouring down his face as he bared his heart.

Deep down, Heechul knew he sounded like a whiny little girl but he didn’t care and Han Geng knew that it was just Heechul being Heechul. As Han Geng saw the tears of his lover pour down his face he felt his heart clench and he wanted to cry too. He knew he couldn’t do that though.

Han Geng didn’t know if he was coming back, and he knew that if he told Heechul to wait for him, then he would. But he didn’t know if he wanted that. He loved Heechul, but he missed his family and his life back in China. Looking at the crumbling man in front of him he knew he had to do it; he had to break the last piece of Heechul’s heart or else he wouldn’t ever be able to leave and make the decision that was best for him. It was for Heechul, it would be easier on him this way than if he told him he would come back only to decide that he didn’t want to. He decided to lie.

“No, it didn’t mean anything.” Han Geng answered and he watched as Heechul’s face cracked and his sobs increased.

He had to leave, had to get out of there before he broke down too so he grabbed the bag he had packed earlier and walked out the door without looking back because he didn’t need to see Heechul to know that he had destroyed him; he could hear it in the way he was hopelessly trying to call him back.

Heechul had gone out that night in a desperate attempt to not be alone. He was alone though, as he was reminded while he sat at the bar in silence while the rest of the world moved on around him. Drink by drink he felt himself slipping away and being replaced by a numbness that was a welcome relief from the pain that had flooded him since that moment Han Geng had sat him down to ‘talk’. The numbness was accompanied by a feeling of annoyance and anger and when a stranger bumped into him he flipped, screaming and cursing about how the world’s population of indecent men should go and themselves. It was after this that he was removed from the bar, still cursing and screaming the entire way.

“Go to hell! All of you can go to hell!” He shouted and stumbled a little as the bouncers let go of him.

Heechul started walking away from the bar, muttering about arrogant s and alcohol until he ran into somebody.

“Watch it! Can’t you see that some of us are trying to walk here?” He slurred and tried to push his way past the man and across the street that was filled with speeding cars. The stranger grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“Can’t you see you are about to get yourself killed and I just saved you? You should be thankful.” The man tried to argue as he held onto him tightly in case he tried to run out into the street again.

“You are right; your highness Heechul is forever at your service.” Heechul said and stumbled a little as he tried to bow.

“Alright Heechul, now I think I am going to call you a cab.” The man said as he searched for an empty cab.

“Hey, is that accent of yours Chinese?” Heechul asked as he leaned into his new friend, his eyes coming dangerously close to closing as he stifled a yawn.

“Yeah, the name is Zhou Mi.”                                                                                            

“I hate Chinese men. What do you do for a living?” Heechul asked as he gripped harder on Zhou Mi for support.

“I teach dance lessons.”

“I hate dancers.” Heechul murmured and now his eyes really were closed as he fell asleep standing up against Zhou Mi.

“I guess we are going to get along just fine then.” Zhou Mi muttered.

Heechul vaguely heard that last part as he began to fall asleep. It was familiar to him; this scene. He knew it was because this was how he spent his first night with Han Geng.

‘Han Geng, the with the stupid visa.’ Heechul thought as he was almost completely unconscious now.

Life can be cruel sometimes and people make stupid decisions. There is this clichéd saying that goes: “life is 10% what happens to us and 90% what we make of it.” What happened to Han Geng and Heechul wasn’t tragic or out of the ordinary, it was something as simple as a stupid piece of paper that gave Han Geng permission to leave the country. He couldn’t have changed the visa issue, but he could have handled it better. He could have found a way to go back to Korea to be with Heechul because the truth was; he did love Heechul. He loved him more than his family and more than his home but he lost it all because of a rash decision to lie because he thought it would be easier. Han Geng had just ed up that 90% of his life. Sometimes clichés are dead on.