The lights were dim and the tacky jukebox sitting right in the corner of the room was playing some tunes aged almost as old as he could remember. Mixture of alcohol and cigarette smoke tickled his nostrils, eyes almost watery as he stared at the glass in his hand. Dark liquid danced with ice cubes as he swirled the glass, precipitation fogging the container, cold seeping through the pores of his fingers. His right left hand rested on the side of the table, fingers fumbling with unlit cigarette – old and rare, almost impossible to find.

Shifting in his seat, dark eyes roaming under untrimmed fringes, he spotted the bartender watching him – Chanyeol was his name, overly boisterous, good lad nonetheless, an old friend from way way back. On the barstool was another man, smaller and less smiley than the bartender. He remembered being introduced one night yet the memory was a little too vague to recall, clouded with intoxication provided by too much alcohol and perhaps a touch of something more. He squinted, digging for a name in the back of his head. Was it Junmen? Jumon? Something that sounded along those syllables. Standing right by the counter was another man, eyes resembling the crescent moon, hair bleached in a painful shade of yellow, grazed with black roots. Sehun was his name. How could he forget? The man had once stood beside him, matching grin plastered on thin lips. Partners in crime the townspeople would call them, attached at the hip, always together. Best friends forever – the little girl at the playground once called them.

Static filled his ears, eyes quickly travelling to the old juke box in the corner, before the machine started playing a new song – acoustic guitar harmonizing with light thumping of drums and bass. As if on cue, the door opened, creaking as if the whole building was going to fall down. Really, the bar’s location was a little too old yet patrons still came and went. The liquors were okay, old like what drinkers would prefer yet some glasses were cracked and the tables were all damaged. Perhaps it had become a habit, a limitless familiarity that people would eternally refuse to let go.

In the middle of the room stood another familiar face, a little too familiar it made his heart hurt. Each beat of the music was starting to pierce through his core, each strum of the guitar sliced through his being as he clutched on his glass a little too hard. Raven eyes seek for familiar chocolate orbs yet trying his hardest to remain unnoticed, hiding behind overgrown hair and poor excuse of a winter coat. Perhaps he should be grateful for the other man that just walked into the old pub, distracting the familiar face’s attention to roam towards him.

“Luhan!”

Now he's done, and they're calling someone
Such a familiar name
I'm so glad that my memory's remote
'Cause I'm doing just fine hour to hour, note to note

The boisterous bartender hollered. Toothy smile flashing as long arms flailed in a wave. He could feel eyes watching him from afar, hair on the back of his neck standing as he dipped his finger in his glass, lightly touching the ice as the liquor swirled. It reminded him of soft whispers and faded smiles in the midst of starry midnight and he felt a little too proud. It had been a while since he remembered something that opaque, too clear almost tangible.

The familiar man walked towards the group at the counter, Chanyeol automatically handing the man a glass of apple martini and he almost snorted. He was right, for once in his life, people would never fail to refuse to let go of something that had already became a part of them. Apple martini had always been the man’s favorite, sour with a hint of sweetness that would tickle your taste bud. The bartended would definitely include some cherries, for old times’ sake.

“And what can I get for you Mr. Mysterious?” The bartender asked jokingly yet the way round eyes swept to his direction made him feel like a little too stuffy.

“I’ll take a Sazerac.” A gummy smile was flushed, a little too stiff and scripted for his liking. It felt strained and unreal. “The name’s Kris by the way.”

“Sweet and spicy. Interesting.” Sehun slid beside Chanyeol, tapping the bartender’s hand before pecking at the taller’s cheek. “I’ll take this one. You go ahead and take a seat.” Sehun turned his attention back to the newcomers as the previous bartender refused to do what his told and wrapped his arms behind the younger’s waist. “So Luhan, aren’t you gonna introduce him to us?”

Luhan smiled, and he almost felt like he was going to be blown away by the inexistent wind. His insides formed knots as his heart fluttered – painful yet sweet, extremely addictive. The taste of bourbon lingered on the tip of his tongue, smoky and sweet almost caramelly. Sehun once told him his taste on liquor was quite common, contradicting his usual reckless and fearless persona. He thought it was just perfect, a little too pretentious yet still perfect.

“Well his name’s Kris.” Luhan’s feet shuffled, another habit. “My fiancé.”

That's the man he's married to now
That's the man that he takes around town
He appears composed
He shows no emotion at all
Stares into space like a dead china doll

The glass almost slipped from his grip, cigarette stick crumpled in the palm of his hand as a teardrop almost escaped from corner of his eye. Sehun’s eyes met his, crescent eyes filled with pity yet void of any remorse. He couldn’t blame his old friend. Everything was his fault anyway. He had chosen a path that he once thought would lead him to a better life, away from the suffocating familiarity and tiring habits. Now he’s stuck in a limbo filled with nothing but endless darkness and shards of broken glass.

“I’ll just go to the restroom.” The small man on the barstool with the name he could barely recall spoke before walking towards the back of the pub, making a little detour to his table when both of them had confirmed that none of the other patrons were looking.

“Fancy seeing you here.” A smirk curved up his plump lips, raven eyes still hiding behind fringes and face covered by the collar of his winter coat.

“Why are you even here? Why did you come back?” The man asked, voice smooth and authoritative. It reminded him of late night walks as group of friends sang on top of their lungs, ignoring the verity that it was way past midnight and the neighborhood was already sound asleep. He thought of the only person that had the gut to make them shut up – Junmyeon was his name.

He watched the elder slip a in the seat across him, eyes judging his every move before glancing at the crushed stick of cigarette in your palm. Recognition was visible in the man’s eyes, hinted with sadness and remorse.

“I don’t know.” He chuckled at his own answer. It had been a while since the last he had been that honest. “I don’t really know.”

“You have no business here. Just leave.” Junmyeon’s stare was cold and sharp, stabbing right through his sould. “You lost your right to come to this place a long time ago. I’d kick you out but you know me, I don’t like fuss.”

Here it is, the revenge to the tune
You're no good, you're no good, you're no good, you're no good
Can't you tell that it's well understood?

Tears had finally rolled down as he reached for his pocket, fishing out a tin container containing three cigarette sticks identical to the one resting on his palm – crushed and useless and he thought it was quite ironic how it resembled himself – old, rare, almost too impossible to find yet completely crushed and utterly useless.  

He picked one and lit it. Inhaling the first puff felt harsh yet the rush of euphoria mixed with a hint of mint and painful memories loitered in his senses. Smoke danced in his vision, contorting continuously before disappearing into thin air and he somehow wished he could do just the same – contort and disappear. He had already done the first part, he had already screwed up way too much and he knew that it wouldn’t take a while for him to disappear.

The desire to vanish had always been sitting at the back of his head yet reminiscence of an old friend would always stop him from flinging himself in a pit of oblivion. Dark hair, wide eyes, narrow shoulders, heart-shaped lips would smile at him, pulverizing the remains of his broken heart.

His old friend’s name was Do Kyungsoo. An older boy that had nothing but clear visions of his bright future and a singing voice that could make the universe crumble under his fingers. He had wide, sparkling eyes that could be a perfect epitome of curiosity and interest, thick lips that would always stretch into a refreshing smile and soft strands of hair that would dance along summer breeze and feel soft and silky against his knobby fingers. And most of all, Do Kyungsoo had a heart of a saint yet quite stupid because it chose to fall in love with the idiot dancer that did nothing but up his own life.

He dragged Kyungsoo down with him, pulling the elder along with him as he fell into oblivion and leaving him there to disperse, dissipate, disintegrate, die. Kyungsoo had chosen to vanish, and it was all his fault and nobody could tell him otherwise. It might have been the dull knife found in the elder’s hand that took Kyungsoo’s life yet everybody knew that Kyungsoo’s heart had died a long time ago.

I'm tired, I'm tired
Looking out on the substitute scene
Still going strong
It's OK, it's alright, nothing's wrong

It was never wrong to fall in love – his mother used to tell him back when he was child, void of the realities of the world and away from the cruelty of the universe. He just wished his mother would have told him that loving was also not as easy as it seemed to be. Though he should have probably seen though everything when he watched his father walk out their door one night and never came back. His mother would still tell him that falling in love was never wrong but she never mentioned that loving could also make you go insane.

He wanted to ask his mother if it was also not wrong to fall in love while already in love with somebody else yet he never had chance. Love was quite a trickster. It never gave him a chance to even contemplate. It bypassed all the filters of his mind and went straight to his heart, ignoring the ring wrapped around his left ring finger, scratching the names embossed on the metal – Jongin and Kyungsoo replacing it with something other people would call betrayal. Jongin would call it idiocy.

He looked at the group conversing at the bar. Chanyeol was guffawing, Sehun comfortably sitting on his lap, infamous poker face plastered on his face. Junmyeon was sitting silently on his stool, occasionally throwing him dark glances that would make his insides churns. Kris, the new guy, was standing right by the counter, fading in the background despite the undeniable distinguishable looks. And Luhan, the familiar man, the man with sparkling eyes, brown locks, soft lips and face of an angel, the trickster in Jongin’s life.

Tell Mr. Man with impossible plans
To just leave me alone
In the place where I make no mistakes
In the place where I have what it takes

His whole being shook when the elder’s eyes slowly averted to his and Jongin felt like he was drowning. Every cell in his body were twisting, painful and excruciating as his heart, his stupid heart, still fluttered despite all his pleas. His mind reeled back memories of stolen kisses, clandestine rendezvous, lingering touches, forbidden love. It was painful yet sweet, maddening yet intoxicating – utterly and irrevocably addictive.

“Jongin.” His name slipped through the man’s lips, voice stuck in his throat as recognition filled sparkling eyes.

“Luhan.”

 He smiled before walking towards the elder, each step painful and destructive. The tin container in his pocket felt heavy as it bounced with his every move, lit cigarette all but forgotten on the ashtray sitting on top if his table. The jukebox in the corner was still playing a tune that was piercing through his core and slicing though his being. His tears had already dried up a long time ago yet the stains on his tanned skin seemed like they were never going go away. The elder just gaped at him, chocolate brown orbs uncertain and filled with something else Jongin couldn’t seem to comprehend. Apologetic, his mind suggested.

“Thanks for this but I don’t see any point of keeping it.” He handed the tin container to Luhan before rushing out of the pub, fingers brushing, lingering and painful.

I'm never gonna know you now but I'm gonna love you anyhow

I love you. – L says the engraving inside the container, small and almost invisible.

*****

A/N: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I JUST WROTE OMFG

anyway.

>> Yes, Jongin and Kyungsoo were married.
>> Jongin cheated with Luhan.
>> Kyungsoo commited suicide.
>> Did Jongin love Kyungsoo? Nobody knows, not even him.
>> Everybody knew Jongin cheated and everybody was blaming him for Kyungsoo's death. However, they dont know that it was Luhan that Jongin cheated with. Only Sehun, the best friend, knew hence the looks he was throwing at Jongin when Luhan came and why Junmyeon was cool with having Luhan arond.