When your best friend first dragged you into this wedding, you nodded and smiled and was actually a little bit happy to participate in your wedding for the first time.

And then things got majorly awkward at the rehearsal the day before because she failed to inform you that you would be her maid of honor and would have to walk down the aisle first without tripping and with Lee Jonghyun.

You should’ve known.

Seohyun is getting married to Yonghwa, and naturally Jonghyun would be his best man, and probably Seohyun’s real maid of honor couldn’t make it so you were her next choice, which you’re flattered and all, but you’re the worst choice to be put in high heels and a dress and shuffling down with a handsome hunk of man like Lee Jonghyun.

Surprisingly, it’s the same people from high school days who show up at the rehearsal so a small reunion is inevitable, but then Seohyun tells everybody to get to business and starts arranging people with you in the front and the rest of the bride’s maids and groom’s men positioned according to height.

Lucky for them, they all know each other and everything is just so goddamn spiffing for them and you’re standing awkwardly with Jonghyun.

What was that nickname that the girls came up with in high school?

Oh, that’s right.

Untouchable.

Damn right, he is.

Every girl that approached him with wants of a date was rejected, politely, of course, because Jonghyun is suave like that, but the point is, he’s never been in a relationship and you’re one of the many that are starting to wonder if he’s gay.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that because you think he looks absolutely adorable with Minhyuk. Minhyuk doesn’t have feelings, they’re just rather comfortable with each other.

When the music is playing, the two of you stiffly walk down the aisle with at least seven inches separating you two, your hands grasping the flowers in your hand and your feet taking slow steps. The first time through is okay, the second time is better, and then the third time, Yonghwa whispers into Seohyun’s ear, which causes a smirk to appear on both their faces, and then when you’re walking, she makes this motion with her arm that meanstake his arm.

You raise your eyebrows at her and mouth your worries and obvious expressions of oh hell no but she keeps doing it and mouthing back and nudging her head in Jonghyun’s direction and when you’re third-quarters of the way down, you sigh and wrap your hand around his arm.

His muscles noticeably tense, his arm like a pole and you continue to awkwardly walk down the aisle. Later, Seohyun drags you two by the ears and both of you are rubbing them in pain.

"Jonghyun," she points at him. "You need to bend your arm. ________," she points at you now. "You need to hold his arm like you see in the movies when the guy offers his arm at a dance and the girl takes it, okay?"

You nod.

"Show me."

You and Jonghyun send each other bewildered glances and uncomfortably oblige.

At least she’s satisfied.

"Good. Now please remember that tomorrow."

-

-

And so the dreaded day has arrived and Seohyun has failed to tell you that your dress ispink.

You support cancer and all, but to be decked out in a pink dress for the next possibly ten hours? Lord have mercy on you.

Jonghyun fidgets with his bowtie next to you and you wordlessly tap his shoulder to get his attention and fix the darned thing that’s making him nervous. You can sense the blood rushing to your cheeks when you do so and he thanks you and his voice makes you melt into a puddle of warm goo, as disgusting as that might sound.

Just like rehearsals, the two of you stiffly walk down the aisle with unfamiliar linked arms and can hear the people snickering behind you in the pews. You continue to hold the fake smile and clap when the lucky couple is married and cat whistles and screams erupt throughout the church as Yonghwa kisses his wife.

During the reception party when dancing is in full swing and you’ve had lunch and regret not bringing a change of clothes for the dress that doesn’t clash with your mood, you slip out the doors of the church unnoticed and inhale the fresh air.

It’s too suffocating in there, what with all the couples mingling around you. Your chest clenches and your heart squeezes painfully.

You won’t lie, you want somebody to love you, you want to have a boyfriend, but you want someone who wants you for you, who doesn’t care that you don’t remotely act like a girl most of the time, who doesn’t care that you’d rather sit at home and eat but still play soccer with the local kids at the nearest soccer field right after to burn of the calories, who loves you for you, as awkward and ungirly and offset you may be at first.

Just thinking about how you’re still the only single one in your group of friends is almost disheartening and soon you find yourself with your hand covering your mouth in attempts to hide your sobs but fail to when the church bells toll to signal the marriage yet again.

It’s your dress now, so you don’t really care about getting it mussed up when your back hits the wall, your body sliding down to the concrete ground as your knees pull up to support your arms and head.

Your body is behind a pillar and you disregard the sudden crescendo of the party inside, meaning somebody has opened the door to leave or go inside. You don’t care, you just want to be left alone.

”_________?”

You know that voice.

The crinkling clothes rings in your ear as somebody sits next to you. Suddenly, the cold wind blowing doesn’t matter. You’re being dragged into an irresistible heat and snuggle further into the figure next to you, your sobs continuing to wrack your body.

An arm lightly settles around your shoulders before letting its weight tighten. Your hands clench the black tuxedo jacket without hesitation.

At this point, you’re so sure of what’s about to spill from your mouth. It’s never hit you until now that he’s always lingering in your mind, those fleeting glances and meetings between mutual friends and the bond that snapped between you two after high school. You regret not staying in touch, but this is it.

This will make or break you.

"I love you, Jonghyun."

You don’t bother to see if he’s heard or not and scramble out of his arms and into the parking lot while wiping your tears and stumble when your heels catch onto stray pebbles. It doesn’t matter.  You’ve said it.

It doesn’t matter.