Nichkhun knew he was being reckless; selfish, even.

Nichkhun also knew he had promised s he’d stay away from Tiffany until the day of her wedding.

But as he said to Taecyeon before, Stephanie Hwang made him do things that were not like him, and this was just one of many reckless things he had done for her.

He paused at the doorway to the familiar practice room he had visited many times in the past, watching as Tiffany bent over her music sheets, pouting slightly in concentration. She stared intently at the papers on the floor, her legs crossed in a pair of skinny jeans, her hair slipping softly over her shoulders in thick masses before she brushed her hair away absentmindedly. A diamond sparkled brilliantly on her ring finger as it caught the light and Nichkhun made an involuntary sound at the back of his throat.

Tiffany looked up, startled, before going very, very still when she recognized her visitor.

They stared at each other for a heartbeat before she moved first, composing her expression after a flash of – alarm? Surprise? – appeared on her face.

“Khun,” Tiffany said, the old nickname slipping out in her astonishment as she rose from the floor. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Apparently the security ahjusshi at the back door still remembers me,” Nichkhun smiled, his tone purposefully light.

A different emotion crossed Tiffany’s face, fleeting in its presence before her expression settled somewhere between amusement and detached friendliness. “You should have called me, I would have let you in. What’s with the sudden visit though?”

“What, I can’t visit a friend when I want to?”

“Why did you come back here, Nichkhun?”

He was silent for a long beat. “I wanted to see you.”

Tiffany stared for a second longer, and Nichkhun stared back. Her face was sharper than it had been the last time he saw her face-to-face, and her cheekbones were more prominent. But what she had lost in physical softness was made up by a gentleness in her eyes that made Nichkhun ache, because he had not been the cause of it.

She blinked, breaking eye contact before she turned abruptly, thick hair falling like a tumbled veil across her face. Tiffany picked up her music sheets before she sat at the piano in one corner of the room, arranging her sheets in silence as he watched, stepping into the room.

“You should be careful, oppa,” her voice was casual, her back turned towards him. “There are people even in S.M. who would notice a visit of a JYP idol – even if it's just as a friend – and talk about it.”

It was a subtle reminder that he no longer had the right to walk in and out of her life as he pleased; a clear drawing of lines and personal boundaries as he flinched like he had been struck across the face.

“Tiffany,” he started but she turned around to cut him off with a blinding smile.

“I’m glad you’re back, oppa. It’s been ages since we last met.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

They looked at each other silently before he spoke again, voice soft and aching.

“How have you been?”

“Good.” She spoke without any malice. “Better than I’ve ever been.”

He winced anyway.

“That–that’s good.” Brief hesitation. “I missed you.”

“Thank you for coming back for the wedding,” Tiffany continued like she hadn’t heard him. “It’s nice to see you again. How’s it been so far? Being back in Korea, I mean.”

“Overwhelming,” Nichkhun smiled wryly. “But it’s good to be back. The CEO is already making plans, and the guys and I have been talking…”

He took a deep breath before saying meaningfully, “I’m planning on staying this time.”

“That’s good,” Tiffany echoed his words back at him impassively before standing. “Do you want something to drink? Eat?”

“No, thank you. But we have to talk. Stephanie–”

“I insist.” Tiffany’s voice was firm, but he could hear the slightly panicked edge behind it despite her calm exterior. “Coffee? Tea?”

Nickhun sighed, relenting. He had always let her have her way; it had always been so easy to yield to those pleading dark eyes. Besides, the last time he had ignored the unspoken request in her gaze, the both of them had ended up hurt.

“Juice, if you have it.”

She nodded sharply, a brief incline of her head, before disappearing into the corridor outside. He slumped on the piano seat, setting a hand on the keys tiredly.

He stayed like that for a while, waiting for the sound of her footsteps outside the door before he pressed a key absentmindedly, tapping out a simple melody. Soon, his hands were wandering over the whole keyboard, fingers flying as the music filled the whole practice room like running water, a flood that threatened to pull him under.

He looked up, and Tiffany was standing there, watching him as her fingers tightened around a bottle of orange juice. Her knuckles were white, face smooth and blank. When he glanced at her she broke into a beautific smile but he could see the faraway look in her eyes and the music drifted to a stop.

“Very pretty piece,” she complimented him as she moved to set the juice down on a chair next to the piano.

“Don’t you remember it?” He watched her carefully.

Tiffany’s hand stilled even as the corners of quirked up automatically, the expression not quite reaching her eyes.

“Did you really come all the way to visit me and talk about music?” she asked lightly, avoiding his question as she took a seat. She leaned back, crossing her ankles. “I heard you were composing and focusing on music in New York; how did that go?”

“Well enough,” his fingers started across the ivory keys again. “I wrote this one there.”

They sat, silent, as the music enveloped the room almost lovingly, swelling and throbbing with a restrained angst that pulled Nichkhun away from reality as he stared at Tiffany’s still dark head, bent over her hands that lay limp in her lap.

As the music drifted to a close, she raised her head.

“That was lovely,” she almost whispered.

 “It should be – I wrote it for you.”

Tiffany paused before she laughed, her eyes hidden behind the two dark crescents he knew so well and yet felt so strange to him now. Yoona, Yuri and Sooyoung had been actresses for way longer than any of the other girls who had branched out into acting, but he had always privately thought she was the best actress out of them all – not out of his personal bias, but because she put everything on the surface so brightly and easily with her sweet, unguarded personality and signature smiles that hid everything so well.

And Nichkhun thought to himself that Tiffany’s smile hadn’t changed one bit in all the years he knew her, not since the day he first met her, and yet, now her smile was less like his Stephanie’s and more like Miyoung’s.

“Still a sweet talker, I see. How was America, though? Was it good? Did you meet new friends? Start dating?”

“No, no, and no.” He laughed even when he wanted to admit no, it was lonely, it was hard without you there, I missed you so much.

“That’s a pity,” she paused. “Jessi’s dating Taec, you know.”

Nichkhun blinked in astonishment. He had spent the whole day with s yesterday, just goofing off and laughing and having lots of stupid fun the way only 2PM could have. For a while he had felt like nothing was happened and they were just as carefree as they had been the day they made their debut.

But Taecyeon had made no mention of his new relationship, never spoke of Jessica even once –  whether to avoid bringing up any thoughts of SNSD and Tiffany by association, he didn’t know.

“What?”

“They’re pretty new – they made it official only three, four months ago?” Tiffany smiled affectionately. “They’re very sweet together, almost perfect.”

“Everyone is always perfect at the start,” he said unthinkingly, and she lifted her eyes to look at him evenly for a long moment.

“Yes,” her voice was low. “Of course it is.”

Nichkhun regretted his rash words as he reached for her hand, pleading. “Steph–”

Tiffany easily drew her hands back in her lap, lifting one to glance at a slim watch strapped around a wrist in a subtle gesture of rejection that made his heart ache. She looked up and smiled, that heartbreaking, Tiffany smile of hers that still made his heart stop even though he just wanted to tell her to stop wearing Tiffany like a mask: to just stop pretending and just be Stephanie instead–

“I forgot,” her tone was light, with no indication that she had even noticed his gesture despite her obvious dismissal. “I have a recording at three. I’m sorry, oppa. I have to go, but let’s go for coffee sometime before the wedding okay?”

It felt like he was being pulled back to earth, falling as the wind whistled in his ears and he heard himself saying faintly, “Of course. Call me. Before the wedding.”

“I’ll call when I’m free,” she replied, rising to leave, and Nichkhun crashed.

They both knew she wouldn’t.

If there was ever a time for him to say his piece, it was now.

“Stephanie–” He stumbled to his feet, clutching at her slim wrist as she glanced back, eyes wide. “Don’t go. I came back for you.”

“Khun,” Tiffany started, her voice gentle as she tried to pull her hand away but he held on firmly.

“Love Me.”

“What?”

“The song I was playing, it was called Love Me. By Yiruma. Don’t you remember?”

“I know.” Tiffany looked away, her voice soft but not soft enough to disguise the subtle ache that throbbed so palpably in her words. “I couldn’t forget if I tried to. How could I? The love letter on the back of a music sheet – it was so romantic, right at the start. How perfect.”

"Tiff...."

"Tell me: what did you come back here for, Nichkhun?" she demanded now, her eyes flickering to his and he winced at the fury in them. Her voice was low and tight and controlled. "What exactly do you want to say, Khun? If you came back as a friend to wish me well, you are welcome, but what do you want?"

"I-I don't know." He faltered momentarily before admitting softly, "I just wanted to set things right."

I just want you back, he didn't say.

"Nichkhun," she sighed, her anger seeming to dissipate. His heart leaped at the sound of her familiar voice caressing his name the way only she could. "It's alright, I put it all behind me now."

But I don't want you to, he wanted to shout. I don't want you to move on and be happy with some other guy, when I'm still hurting and waiting and pining.

He bit back the selfish words. "I really did love you, Tiffany. I'm just...I'm sorry for the way I treated you then."

"Does it matter now? Does an apology matter now?" Her voice was suddenly sharp, sharper than he had ever heard it even as her gaze met his coolly. Cold was never a word he would used to describe Tiffany, but her eyes were speckled with flecks of ice now that refracted the light like the diamond on her finger. 

"It matters to me." He murmured.

"I used to think it would too. I waited," her eyes changed then, filling with disappointment. "But it never came, and then I stopped waiting."

Nichkhun flinched as she blinked the wet shimmer in her eyes away.

“I’m sorry, Steph. I’m so sorry for making you cry and hurting you even when I told you I loved you.” The words tumbled out carelessly without stopping even as his eyes searched her pale face desperately. He took her hand in his, speaking quickly, earnestly. “I'm sorry for not trying then. I didn’t think…I ran away because I was afraid. Because I loved you.”

Her voice softened, as did her eyes. “What were you afraid of?”

“Seeing you, him being together, seeing you happy without me, being hurt….I don’t know.”

There. He had said it. She knew full well how selfish he was now. But then again, Tiffany had always been exceptionally good at reading people. Maybe she always knew but had just accepted him wholeheartedly anyway: because she was Tiffany and Tiffany was kind and loving and affectonate like that.

He felt another hot flood of guilt and self-hatred.

Her eyes dropped to her hands that lay in his, and Nichkhun’s gaze followed, focusing on her glinting band that spoke of a promise to another man.

He felt that sensation again, like he had been punched in the gut, breaking his hopes as easily as snapping bones. His hold on her slackened.

 “But you came back,” Tiffany reminded him kindly even as her fingers slipped out of his grip, his hand hanging limply in the air.

“I’m still afraid,” Nichkhun confessed, and he suddenly realized his hands, empty without Tiffany’s, were curled into tight fists, pinpricks of blood slowly returning to his fingertips as he unclenched them.

He stared down at his hands, his voice quiet and sincere and reckless. 

“And I came back for you...because I still love you. That's all I have to say.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and burdensome. Tiffany whitened, going silent like she was holding her breath, hoping for someone to clear them away, brush them aside like cobwebs from a different time, but Nichkhun only lifted his eyes to hers wordlessly.

Something in Tiffany’s eyes shuttered off, her body sagging before her spine stiffened abruptly. Her shoulders were so tense it seemed that they would snap under the sheer effort of keeping them straight.

Nichkhun’s will crumbled.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you hurt me and left.” Tiffany whispered in a broken, hollow voice that was so unlike the Tiffany he knew who had always been outgoing, loud enough, loving enough for the both of them even when all he knew was how to hurt her and take her love with only pain in exchange and then hurt her some more.

He recoiled.

"You didn't even trust me, Nichkhun." Tiffany was actually shaking now, her eyes filled with so much pain that he regretted ever dredging up the memories, even regretted destroying the light, false casual air that had been prevalent earlier. 

"You didn't even trust me. You were selfish. You believed in rumours, believed what other people had to say about me without even considering my feelings even though you said you loved me." Her voice rose to a volume that hurt his ears, even though the keen, cutting edge in it was enough to bring pain by itself. "What do you have to say about that?"

His eyes dropped to his own bare hands in shame.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated uselessly as she rose. Her face was no longer set in fury, just weary, disappointed instead. He hated himself for hurting her. Again.

"I'm sorry, Tiffany."

“Don’t be – it turned out better for me.”

This time it was a muscle in his chest that felt a lance of pain: the strongest and weakest muscle that had let him down again and again.

A knock sounded at the door then, and a manager poked his head in.

“Fany, they want you in the studio–” His voice trailed off when he spotted Nichkhun, still seated at the piano and Tiffany some distance from him, her face smoothening into a perfect blank mask.

“Thanks, oppa,” she smiled. “I’ll be right there.”

The manager glanced at Nichkhun worriedly, but Tiffany shook her head in a miniscule gesture of warning. The older man hesitated then nodded, shooting Nichkhun a warning glare before withdrawing. Tiffany sighed, a light exhale that made her shoulders slump wearily as she paused with her hand on the doorknob.

"Come back to me," he spoke suddenly, his voice desperate. "Come back to me and I'll never hurt you again."

There was no hesitation in Tiffany's rejection as she shook her head slowly.

“Goodbye, Khun.” Tiffany's voice was soft; not unkind, but not gentle either. She paused before speaking sincerely, her tone almost sympathetic as though she had not just broken him as easily as he did to her all those years ago.

“If you want, I’ll see you on the fifth of August.”

The door creaked before shutting softly with a click and this time Nichkhun was the one left behind, alone.