The plane finally touches down Seoul in just past eight when the rain drenches the city that night and fogs everything the dreary air of grey November sky. Beyond the window, the dull rush of tires on the streets stifled by the heavy raindrops; straight down pouring without any wind, mercilessly soaking every single thing beneath.

Soon as the plane reaches the gate, a soft melodious rendition of Michael Buble’s ‘Home’ begins to waft through the ceiling speakers. As if on cue, people started unlatching their seatbelts and taking baggage from the upper bins, rushing to board off.

The music changes to a sweet sultry voice greeting the passengers.

“Welcome to Seoul, South Korea. We hope you enjoy the stay here.” One of the stewardesses said, bowing a little then smiled and retreated back shortly after.

He remains seated, though, in his seat looking out of the plane window. Thick, dark clouds hovering the landscape in contrast to the bright colors lighting up the buildings.

It had been a quiet flight, thank God, but nonetheless flights always leave him on the edge every single time. He lets out a stuttered sigh.

Not until a stewardess, the same one from the announcement before comes to check on him, he straightens up trying to reassure her that everything’s okay. Monday’s blues, he said.

He makes it up to the arrival gate in no time. Mind wanders thoughtlessly, of what he had lost, what could have beens, and the what ifs. It’s always the whatifs. Running his fingers through his goldilocks, he retrieves his luggage and gets on the nearest cab before leaving the airport, heading home.

 

Home.

 

The thought itself sends a shudder through him. He isn’t sure if this place he called home years ago now as welcoming as it used to be. Without even knowing he reaches out for his phone, weighing it on his hand.

It had been too long.

He’s too worried to try calling again, wondering if Junmyeon would be there. If Junmyeon didn’t pick up he’d be too nerve-wracked to drive himself home, and if he did answer? What would he say? So instead he just had the driver to blast the radio volume to distract himself from thinking about Junmyeon. It’s not working though. The Beatles’s ‘Yesterday’ comes through the slightly broken speaker, startling him.

The melody never failed to hit him harder than ever.

He bends forward in his seat, clutching face in hands. The ever-bright Seoul passes by him all the while he was back at the high school backyard. He could smell the freshly cut dewy grass, feel the sunray on his face, and hear the screams from the football team. Ten years have gone by, he still can recall every little things of that day at the backyard. Summer 2010. The sky was bright, brightest in the past week. The colors were vivid, greenest green and reddest red. Eyes on the sun, one long streak of cloud hung pasted across the brightest sky blue canvas. A puff of wind swept across the field and through a girl’s, it was Kyungsoo, flowery skirt before it danced along to rustle branches faraway.

Funny how your brain works. Back then, he wouldn’t bet to think of this exact scene as something that would make an imprinted memory. He certainly never expected that ten years later he’d be able to bring it back in such detailed manner; he gave no single damn about the surrounding, hardly paid it any attention, and he certainly did not even when Junmyeon spoke to him that day. All he could think about that day was himself. Now though, the backyard scene is the first thing pops up in his head. The smell of freshly cut grass, the August breeze that had the leaves swaying, the loud cries from the football spectators, and the contour of Junmyeon’s face flashed in his head in the highest definition. He feels as if he can reach out and trace them with a fingertip. And yet, as clear as it can be, a memory is a mere projection of the past. Junmyeon isn’t there. Neither is he. He isn’t the person he was back there at the backyard, neither is Junmyeon. Probably.

Where could have the old them disappeared to? How could such a thing have happened? Everything that seemed so important back then – Junmyeon, and the old him then; all seemed evaporated through times.

 

•••

 

“It’s okay, Kris. You can go.” Junmyeon was looking at him, speaking so soft and slow with words carefully chosen.

He didn’t know what to say. Though it was only right, it looked as though he didn’t have to make that decision. How could he possibly leave him? He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to meet Junmyeon’s gaze.

“I don’t know, I feel bad—”

“I understand,” He then said, distraught but hopeful, silently pleading him to stay.

Junmyeon would speak that way sometimes. His mind would backfire his action, trying to convey what he really meant.

The boys locked hands and embraced and it seemed that as long as they have each other out here, they’d be fine. One without the other was an oddity, something that didn’t seem right. Although, sometimes, you couldn’t help but to worry about those two. So young and so radiant, there was so much pressure on them. Kris seemed to cope a bit better, but then he didn’t quite receive the attention Junmyeon did. He didn’t have a cabinet placed in the hallway, full with achievements he’d gotten through the years and he definitely wasn’t named the Student Body of The Year.

But, that was more than okay. Everyone understood their bond, their reliance on each other. They deserved each other out here. Everyone should have the chance to conquer the world with their best friend, and that’s definitely what these two boys are.

Kris nodded and averted his gaze, staring to the far-off sky. He still felt bad for leaving. If he stayed, the pressure to excel only burdened him more than ever. Everyone would worry even more. He knew he had so much in him, but staying would do neither of them any good. He thought about how he only held Junmyeon back. He didn’t want to compete and steal Junmyeon’s spotlight when the boy was shining so bright. If Kris left, he might possibly be able to focus a little better. It wasn’t right for one to play and the other not, or so he thought.

He remembers the first time he saw Junmyeon, noticed him probably would fit best. He had always seen Junmyeon as that prim and proper freshman with his white crisp shirt neatly tucked inside his pants and tie of the work of a professional, so uptight it was almost ridiculous. Kris was with his couple of friends in the cafetaria when he saw Junmyeon looking angry pushed his way in with long strides, a boy in tow, and slammed his hands on the senior’s table.

“You idiots better be on your knees, apologize to Jongdae. Now.” He seethed, pulling the shaking boy, Jongdae, to the front.

The senior only laughed at the two, ignoring the commotion. Junmyeon then grabbed one of the guy’s collar, their nose nearly touched.

“I said, now.”

The guy, Changmin, literally threw Junmyeon off to the floor. “ off.”

Not before long, a fight ensued and Kris was already on his legs marching forward to tackle Changmin who was trapping Junmyeon under his lock.

“Fighting a smaller guy, eh Changmin? Never thought you’d stoop so low,” He sneered, pulling Junmyeon up and dragged the two freshmen out of the site.

They were joined by the hips, their friends would say, from that day. He isn’t sure, though, when did he begin noticing him a little more than he should- his tiny, cold hands; his raven black hair, so soft and cool to the touch; his sincere smile, the way he flails his hands when he’s excited, the way he always put up his friends before him, and the way he covered his face when he sang, although Kris had told him thousand times nothing was wrong with his singing face. Whenever they were in the same room, his eyes drawn to him. He’d always find a way to get be with him.

He couldn’t grasp what he was thinking because it was still so strange for him to consider it. They’d always been close. He’d never been afraid to do anything with Junmyeon; they’d always been pretty affectionate with each other. Junmyeon had never seemed to have a problem when anything physical had happened between them or anyone else. Hell, Kris had kissed him, twice, and Junmyeon had never reacted in anger or disgust. He’d only reacted in shock, before laughing about it a moment later. But they were best friends, it was normal.

Eyes closed, he lets his mind wanders more with radio as the background, allowing the memories of Junmyeon to sink into his brain.

 

And now it seems that the longer he wanders off the more he keeps thinking about how it wasn’t right, the way every single thought kept coming back to Junmyeon. Had he really become so obsessed with his best friend? Was he thinking about Junmyeon this often when he was away? Was he only noticing it now because he was back home now? He couldn’t really be sure.

When did things change? He thought back over the past last months of high school and realized that things had pretty much changed from the beginning. His memories of those first few days in school were proof enough of that. Kris had been there constantly and not just in a physical sense. He’d been there to witness a different side of Junmyeon, one that had required Kris to show a different side of him as well. He was poised and assertive, cold demeanor. With Junmyeon, surprisingly, he let loose, but shy and awkward, stand-offish because his presence overwhelmed him.

They’d both been acting so differently from the very beginning and by the time things had started to get back to normal, things between them had already changed. The way they acted together, the way they always seemed to be thinking about each other, the way Junmyeon had always felt calmed by Kris’ presence.

But that wasn’t love, was it? That didn’t mean anything this serious. This was doubly hard for him because he’d never been in love before.

He’d had relationships and he’d cared about those girls on some level, but he’d never really been any good at approaching a guy he liked. His own best friend.

He sinks down further in his seat.

Kris groans, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He felt a little hopeless at the moment. Every thought he was having was just making him more upset. All these sudden waves of buried deep memories coming at once to him overwhelm him. He has to get a grip on himself.

One call from Jongdae a month ago was all he needed to come to his senses. How had Kris let himself fall like that? How had he managed to not notice anything before it was too late?

Ten years later and he still missed him, regardless of all the thoughts about love and relationships. He didn’t care how bad of an idea it was to pulled back from the life he had in Canada, to go back home. To Junmyeon.

 

•••

It is almost eleven when the rain engulfed the city that night. Beyond the window, the dull rush of tires on the streets stifled by the heavy raindrops; straight down pouring without any wind, soaking every single thing beneath. Pedestrians scattered along the sidewalk, either trying to find temporary haven or running their legs off for home.

He’s just about thanking the heaven above for his luck, being early dismissed by the boss earlier, also his dry and warm apartment when rather excited knuckles rapped mercilessly on his door.

The sight before him is not what he expected (not that he expected something in the first place).

“Kris?”

His feline eyes narrowed into slits scanning the standing figure completely drenched from head to toe.

His coat and snapback offered a little protection against the downpour. He doesn’t fail to recognize though, from the stupid gummy grin plastered on his already pale face, that the man is indeed Kris. But as to why he’d end up right then and there, his brain failed to compute.

The said man is now safe and sound; left seated on the kitchen stool all warm and cuddly after being dragged inside absentmindedly while he juggled for reasoning.

Junmyeon sits at the opposite chair. Waiting.

“You look good?” Kris peers up to him from his mug, sipping the tea Junmyeon had made him.

He rolls his eyes, snorted. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re coming?”

He could feel the sudden uneasiness on Kris’ face as he sipped the long forgotten tea, nervous eyes darting anywhere before finally meeting his gaze.

“I miss home,” Kris said, slow but clear and unwavering. He hung his head low, one arm draped on the back of his neck.

Junmyeon doesn’t miss the underlying words Kris left behind.

 

The pregnant silence never felt suffocating.

 

“Can you repeat that?” His eyes bore into him.

Kris studies his reaction in caution. His jaws clenched shut, lips stretched in a thin line, eyes trained on him. He is still the same old Junmyeon, he muses. Shock, incredulity, hopes painted on his face clear as day. When he remained silent, he took this as the cue to continue.

“I love you, Junmyeon.”

He shakes his head, feeling bad for wanting to laugh, really, but he can’t help it.

Kris is silent for a moment, staring at Junmyeon with a look of shock on his face.

“,” He laughs again, circling the kitchen counter to approach Kris and when he’s in front of him, Junmyeon cups his face within his thin hands.

He leans forward, meeting Junmyeon halfway, in a ten-years worth waiting kiss.