Jongin witnesses his world break apart and shatter right in front of his eyes on an unassuming August afternoon, his back leaning against the wall of the office pantry. He has a mug of coffee in his hands that’s steaming hot, the air from it rising into his face as he holds it halfway to his lips, and yet, his blood still manages to run cold. His fingers turn to ice picks, his limbs are frozen in place.

 

His mind is stuck on one man.

 

‘Jongin, are you alright?’ asks Kyungsoo, brow furrowed in concern. He blinks up at the younger, fingers coming up to brush against Jongin’s arm, but he never gets that far. Jongin flinches away, so violently that the coffee from his mug spills over, watery brown trails rolling down the sleeve of his white shirt, the heat of it scalding his skin through the fabric. In the background, he’s sure, a couple of his colleagues have stopped typing to look at him, have stopped speaking to stare, but he doesn’t register it. He’s deaf to them all.

 

Jongin’s heart is hammering so hard, it’s all he can really hear.

 

‘Jongin!’ Kyungsoo exclaims, quickly snatching up a couple of tissues. He moves to help wipe the younger down, but again, Jongin flinches away. There’s a look that’s a cross between confused and hurt painted on Kyungsoo’s features, and Jongin worries his bottom lip before speaking.

 

‘It doesn’t hurt that much,’ he says, stifling a hiss of pain when he presses down on a wet patch on his sleeve, irritating the probably-burnt skin underneath. He tries for a small smile, but it comes out pained, ingenuine, like a lie.

 

Still, Jongin thinks, he’s grateful it’s come at all.

 

The wrinkles between Kyungsoo’s eyebrows lessen, and the worry on his face seems to slip off, just a little. There’s still a shadow of doubt lingering on his face, but Jongin can tell Kyungsoo’s already relenting. Any minute now, he’s going to back off, go back to his cubicle, and leave Jongin alone.

 

‘You sure you’re okay?’

‘Positive,’

‘I’ll - I’ll just go, then.’

 

And right now, right at this moment - Jongin needs, so desperately, to be alone.

 

‘Alright.’

‘See you.’

‘Bye.’

 

Jongin busies himself with trying to get the stains out of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up to inspect the skin of his forearm when the worst of the damage to his clothing has been halfway repaired. He hears Kyungsoo walk away just as he turns the tap on, lets cool water soothe the reddened skin of his forearm. It doesn’t look too bad - a couple of hours should be enough to get it all looking back to normal.

 

He thinks all of this as he wrestles with his heart, trying to get it to lay calm in the middle of his chest, trying to keep the threads of it from unravelling, trying to keep himself from coming undone. He tries everything - takes deeper, steadier breaths, counts backwards from ten to one, but it doesn’t work. There’s a sharp, fresh pain in his ribs that he can’t fight out, and it makes him see red, makes him want to kick himself for being so stupid.

 

He shouldn’t care, not like this.

 

He shouldn’t care that, not fifteen minutes ago, Kyungsoo had shuffled along to the pantry, barely suppressing a grin, and held up his left hand.

 

He shouldn’t care that there was a ring around Kyungsoo’s fourth finger now, a sign that Chanyeol had, after six years, finally proposed to his best friend, and that it made him look like the sun had decided to rise in his eyes.

 

He shouldn’t care that it meant that Chanyeol, and not Jongin, was going to get to be with Kyungsoo for the rest of his life - he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care.

 

Right?

 

He manages to push the thoughts to the very back of his mind, but still, the question sits, insistent, refusing to fade as he turns the tap off, dabs the water off his skin and rolls his wrinkled sleeve back down. It whispers words of lost chances and lonely mornings and the sealing of his love as forever unrequited as he makes his way back to his chair, but he manages to shut it out for the rest of the day.

 

He turns back to his laptop, drowns himself in his work. He only finishes when the rest of the office is empty, when he’s done two days’ worth of work and his eyes are strained from having been trained on the monitor all day. He switches his laptop off, locks up, and leaves, the shadow of the question hazing back into his mind again.

 

By the time he gets home that night, it’s all he can think of.

 

‘He’s getting married,’ says Jongin, when the first days of September have rolled over and he’s finally had the chance to sit down with Sehun over a lunch at their old hangout. The younger has hair that’s been dyed a light blond this time, and he’s sporting a really stupid hairstyle, but Jongin - Jongin doesn’t have it in him. He doesn’t have it in him to laugh at his old friend’s middle parting and frizzed out hair - he hasn’t had it in him to laugh at anything, these days, really.

 

Sehun sets his glass back down. He drops his gaze.

 

He clears his throat.

 

‘When?’ he asks, because the look on Jongin’s face - it doesn’t leave much question who he’s talking about. For Jongin, Sehun knows, it’s Kyungsoo. It’s always been Kyungsoo. The elder’s name has been painted on Jongin’s heart the way graffiti is painted on walls - it’s regarded as an act of vandalism, it isn’t meant to be there, but it is. Much in the same way that Jongin shouldn’t like Kyungsoo this much - but. Well.

 

The faraway look in Jongin’s eyes has the younger’s heart shrivel just the slightest, the pain in them far too big not to be felt, not to be shared. This is why Sehun won’t look at him.

 

‘December,’ says Jongin, and even though half his drink is gone, and he was fine earlier, his voice sounds like fresh sandpaper, grating roughly against Sehun’s senses. They snag on the single word, and it’s enough to get Sehun to look up.

 

‘Oh,’ is all Sehun says, and Jongin really can’t find it in him to blame the guy. What else do you say when your best friend’s just told you that the love of his life is getting married to someone else in a couple of months? ‘Um. How are you holding up?’ he asks, and Jongin pretends not to notice the awkward skitter in his friend’s voice.

 

‘I should have known that it was coming.’ says Jongin plaintively, trying to make himself believe the words as they flow out. ‘He and Chanyeol - I mean, they’ve been together for how long? It...’ Jongin takes a breath, buries his forehead in his palms. ‘It just… Makes sense, you know. Like I should have been expecting it.’

 

Sehun picks his glass up, sips his drink to fill the silence that’s congealed between them. He sets it back down a minute later, when he realises Jongin’s probably waiting for him to speak. He scratches the back of his neck. ‘Well - they’ve been together since college, right? I mean. So I guess… Yeah. You should’ve.’

 

Jongin winces at Sehun’s words. It isn’t that he’s surprised at what Sehun’s saying - in fact, he’d been expecting it - but the truth behind those words knocks every last breath out of him.

 

He wishes he could run away.

 

He wishes he could find it in him to pack up what little things he has that are precious to him, and leave town, never look back. He wishes he could find it in him to get up, to run, run until his lungs are screaming for breath and his legs are worn into protesting stumps, but - but now, with his entire being feeling like it’s made out of concrete and cement, he can’t even think of moving an inch, let alone running miles away.

 

‘I’m sorry, man,’ murmurs Sehun.

 

Sehun finishes his drink, waits another fifteen minutes with Jongin before he finally understands that the elder really just wants to be left alone. He pats Jongin on the back and goes to the counter, pays for both their meals before he leaves.

 

Chanyeol proposed to me.

December. The wedding’s going to be in December.

A winter wedding, that’s what he wanted.

New year’s eve - please come.

 

Jongin drags his palms down his face, drags the skin underneath it down, tries his best to pull himself together.

 

I’m sorry, man.

 

Another piece of him comes loose, and Jongin feels himself reach for it, only to have it slip right between his fingers.

 

New year’s eve - please come.

Please come.

 

They aren’t the words he’s looking for, but they stare him down, anyway.

 

Jongin lets them consume him.

 

Monday mornings, Jongin thinks, are always the hardest. He wakes up a good fifteen minutes later than he should on this particular October one, almost slips in his shower when he’s halfway through, and his hair doesn’t dry all the way before he reaches the office. When he gets there he’s greeted with a pile, rather than a stack of papers that has him immediately thinking of Zitao, sure that the haphazard tower of documents on his desk was his idea of delivering things in an organised fashion.

 

It wasn’t. As soon as Jongin pulled one piece of paper from the pile, it self-destructed.

 

Papers cascade everywhere in his cubicle, and Jongin bites back a scream when he realises he has to get them back in order and tab and annotate them in time for the meeting he’s supposed to go to before lunch.

 

He’s in the midst of putting his papers back in order when a head pops up over the wall of his cubicle, and Jongin promptly drops all his documents.

 

They’re out of order.

 

Again.

 

‘,’ he breathes, crouching down to clean up the mess. Today is not his day.

 

‘Sorry,’ says Kyungsoo, nose wrinkling. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he says, and Jongin shakes his head.

 

‘Not your fault,’ he mumbles, before straightening up and sitting down in his chair again. He begins resorting his documents. He manages a short, sidelong glance at Kyungsoo - he’d just washed his hair, Jongin can see. And he’s wearing the shirt Jongin got him for his birthday last year.

 

The thought makes him feel warm inside.

 

‘Still,’ says Kyungsoo, ‘I feel pretty bad. Treat you for lunch?’ he suggests, tilting his head.

 

Jongin presses his lips together. ‘I have a meeting to go to,’ he says, trying his best not to look at Kyungsoo. He’d spent the weekend halfway recovering - going out for lunch alone with Kyungsoo didn’t sound like it would help him much.

 

‘I know,’ says Kyungsoo, nodding. ‘Just - I mean, after that. I could wait,’ he suggests, shrugging. There’s still a smile on his face, and Jongin struggles with himself not to look at it.

 

‘I don’t know what time it’ll end,’

‘I’ll be in my cubicle.’

‘You might starve.’

‘Junmyeon doesn’t talk that much - ’

 

Jongin does look at Kyungsoo, then, and an eyebrow. Kyungsoo shakes his head, relents. ‘Okay, so maybe he does. Still, I wouldn’t mind waiting. I have something to ask you. Also, Chanyeol cooked me a big breakfast this morning,’ he says, smiling.

 

Jongin ignores the prick in his chest. He’s gotten good at that, over the years.

 

‘If you say so,’ he hums, and Kyungsoo nods, tells him to have a good meeting, and goes back to his cubicle, leaving Jongin with his messed up documents.

 

He manages to get them sorted and done a good ten minutes before his meeting, sits through the entirety of it listening to Junmyeon drone on and on and on, and manages to stay awake throughout the whole thing. His day starts to look up midway through the meeting - Junmyeon agrees to take Jongin’s proposal up to his superiors, compliments him on a job well done.

 

Jongin begins to think that his day might turn out fine, after all - until he gets to his cubicle, and finds Kyungsoo sitting at his desk, playing Tetris.

 

Oh, yeah.

 

He clears his throat. ‘I don’t think Junmyeon approves of gameplay during work hours,’ scolds Jongin, grinning when Kyungsoo jumps and quickly clicks the game off.

 

‘You scared me,’ he says, halfway laughing through his words. The grin on Jongin’s face spreads wider.

 

‘Hungry yet?’ he asks, arranging his things back on his desk before he looks at Kyungsoo.

 

The latter nods. ‘I forgot how long Junmyeon’s meetings can run, sometimes,’ he grumbles, and Jongin laughs, the sound coming out amidst the words I told you so.

 

They end up getting lunch at the McDonald’s closest to the office, Kyungsoo too hungry to bother trying to find somewhere else to eat, Jongin simply following along behind him. Kyungsoo pays and Jongin gets the tray, and they sit across from each other, the former’s nose wrinkling when he notices the remnants of someone else’s lunch still on their table.

 

‘So how’d the meeting go?’ asks Kyungsoo, stuffing a few fries into his mouth. He looks at Jongin with interest, and the younger takes the bun off his burger to smear chilli sauce all over it.

 

‘Well - I’m not gonna lie, it was a bit chaotic at first. Apparently Zitao’s been going through this kind-of-artistic phase, and nobody can really find the files they need, so Junmyeon was in a pretty bad mood in the beginning,’ says Jongin, taking a large bite out of his food.

 

‘I don’t get why Junmyeon doesn’t just fire him,’ says Kyungsoo, unwrapping his burger. ‘I mean, I know he’s just an intern and all, but - if he can’t even do that right, then what are we supposed to do about it? Lose half our on a daily basis?’

 

Jongin nods understandingly, but grimaces. ‘There’s a rumour that Zitao’s dad has been planning a bit of a takeover,’ says Jongin, mouth full. ‘Last I checked, he’s holding close to 40% of our shares. And that’s not including the people who bought shares on his dime,’ he mumbles.

 

‘Mm,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, chewing on his food. ‘Guess I see what you mean. Junmyeon doesn’t really have a choice.’

 

‘Nope.’

 

They eat in silence for a bit, Jongin finishing first. He slumps back in his chair, full and content, and smiles as Kyungsoo stuffs the last few bites of burger into his mouth. When he finishes his drink, he fixes Jongin with a nervous look.

 

Jongin shifts in his seat. ‘What’s up?’ he asks, not used to the way Kyungsoo’s looking at him.

 

‘I don’t know, I guess I’m just a little nervous, is all,’ says Kyungsoo, laughing just a little as he scratches his shoulder. Jongin sits up slightly, leans forward, elbows on the table.

 

‘What is it?’ he asks, tilting his head.

 

‘I… I was wondering if you’d want to be my best man?’ asks Kyungsoo, somewhat sheepishly, and the half smile he gives Jongin stops the latter’s blood from running cold.

 

Jongin’s eyes still widen. ‘Me?’ he asks, incredulous. ‘Why me? I mean - why don’t you ask Junmyeon, or Jongdae, or - ’

 

‘Jongin, come on,’ says Kyungsoo rolling his eyes now. ‘There’s a reason I asked you, and not them. I… I kind of want it to be you, you know?’

 

Jongin hangs his head. In the back of his mind, he knows this is actually supposed to be a pretty touching moment, him being asked to be someone’s best man.

 

‘Come on, Jongin. It’s my wedding. It’s me.’

 

But this is Kyungsoo he’s talking about. This is Kyungsoo, and this is Jongin, and this is a love he’s harboured for far too long a time, not to make him hesitate.

 

‘And… It’s you. You’re, like, my best friend.’

 

And, only ever, a friend.

 

Jongin raises his head, looks Kyungsoo in the eye. The elder shrugs off his expression of worry, replaces it with the half smile from earlier.

 

‘So - what do you say?’ he asks, and there’s hope slipped between his words, and Jongin finds he already knows the answer.

 

‘Okay.’

 

Jongin 10:58pm

Dude

He ing asked me

To be his best man

 

Sehun 11:46pm

Whaaaaaaaaat

When did that happen

 

Jongin 11:48pm

Over lunch

After lunch

 

Sehun 11:49pm

…

Alone?

Did you have lunch with him alone?

 

Jongin 11:49pm

Well

Yeah

 

Sehun 11:50pm

Not gonna say anything

But man no ok

 

Jongin 11:51pm

I know, I know

He’s engaged

It was a bad idea

 

Sehun 11:52pm

So

 

Jongin 11:52pm

?

 

Sehun 11:53pm

Are you gonna do it???

 

Jongin 11:53pm

…

Um

 

Sehun 11:54pm

YOU’RE GOING TO DO IT?

Man

What the

 

Jongin 11:55pm

I know I know I know it was stupid I should have said no

 

Sehun 11:56pm

Damn right you should have said no

Do you know what a best man even does, Jongin?

He makes SURE the groom gets married that day

He carries the ing ring around for the groom beforehand

Okay

You’re going to carry around CHANYEOL’s wedding ring

Before he marries

KYUNGSOO

 

Jongin 11:59pm

I know

I

I know.

 

Sehun 12:01am

Look

I’m sorry I blew up like that

But

I’m worried about you

How long have you been hung up over him?

Four years? Five?

 

Jongin 12:03am

Six. Almost seven, now.

I’m being stupid.

But Sehun

I couldn’t

I just. I couldn’t say no to him.

You know how it is.

 

Sehun 12:04am

I know.

Good luck, man

I’m here for you

 

Jongin 12:05am

I know

Thank you.

 

When Jongin reaches the office on a Wednesday morning in November, he should be surprised to see someone already sitting in his chair, taking a nap, the man’s head in his arms on the desk, but he isn’t. Because one poke to the man’s shoulder makes him wake up, and when he lifts his head, it’s Jongdae.

 

Jongin sighs.

 

‘I know your boyfriend’s my boss, but this isn’t exactly something I appreciate coming to work to,’ grumbles Jongin, frowning as the elder stretches. ‘Junmyeon’s office is that way. Get out of my chair.’

 

‘Touchy,’ comments Jongdae, working out the crick in his neck. ‘Besides, I’ve already seen Junmyeon. Didn’t come here this morning to spy on him. Came here to see you.’ He pokes Jongin right on the , and Jongin backs away, scandalised. Jongdae just laughs.

 

‘Okay. What did you come here for, then?’ asks Jongin, still disgruntled because Jongdae is still in his chair. He has work he needs to be doing.

 

‘Came to ask you about Kyungsoo’s bachelor party,’ says Jongdae, smiling up at the younger’s dissatisfaction. ‘Heard you’re the best man, and so we decided you’d play the role of groom-handler.’

 

Jongin almost chokes. ‘We?’ he asks, and Jongdae nods.

 

‘Baekhyun and I. Chanyeol’s is being handled by his office friends, so we thought we could throw a little college reunion--bachelor party for our favourite wide-eyed firecracker. What do you say?’ Jongdae asks, leaning back in Jongin’s chair.

 

‘What does a groom-handler have to do?’ asks Jongin, warily. He’s never trusted Jongdae - he isn’t really going to start now.

 

‘Just make sure he gets to the place on time, and make sure he gets home in one piece. That’s it, really.’ Jongdae replies.

 

Jongin sighs. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll do it - but only if you’ll get the out of my chair and let me get to work before your boyfriend skins me alive.’

 

Jongdae gets up. ‘December 19th, alright? Don’t forget.’

 

‘I won’t.’

 

Work begins to pile up for Jongin, but he doesn’t see that as a bad thing. He begins to spend more days stretching his work hours into night than he used to, but the funny look Junmyeon has in his eye when he spots Jongin sometimes gives him a good feeling. Rumours begin to swirl about a new position opening up in Wonju, and even though Jongin knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up too high, he thinks moving out of town doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, after all.

 

Every time Jongin looks at Kyungsoo, now, he looks a little different. There’s more tiredness on his face, but he also wears a perpetual look of nervous anticipation - which one is more apparent, Jongin really doesn’t know.

 

He spends his days trying his best not to look at Kyungsoo.

 

December 19th, as it turns out, rolls around far quicker than Jongin would have liked. He makes a promise to get Kyungsoo out to Baekhyun’s bar by nine - ‘My boyfriend is your boss, Jongin, I will make him kick you out at six sharp, so don’t even try,’ Jongdae had threatened - and tells the groom-to-be that he’ll pick him up at 830.

 

It’s with a heavy heart that Jongin gets ready. He pulls his tie, dress shirt and slacks off slowly, gets into the shower and lets cold water pelt him for a bit before he adjusts the temperature. He towels off and is out by 730, rummages around in his wardrobe for something to wear.

 

He settles on some black jeans and a maroon sweater, and leaves his apartment at 8.

 

He’s at Kyungsoo’s by 815, and he’s suddenly thankful that Chanyeol isn’t in town this weekend. Kyungsoo had complained about it to him a couple of weeks ago, not being able to be with his fiance the weekend before their wedding, but Jongin had simply nodded and tuned him out. He was tired of listening to Kyungsoo talk about Chanyeol.

 

He was so tired all the time, now. It takes him a while to get to Kyungsoo’s unit, and when he gets there, he hesitates.

 

There isn’t much he can do, at this point.

 

He knocks.

 

‘Coming!’ calls Kyungsoo, and Jongin pockets his hands and presses his lips together. Think happy, idiot, you’re taking him to a party, he reminds himself, but the smile he pulls just before Kyungsoo answers the door doesn’t sit right on his lips.

 

‘Hey,’ says Kyungsoo, smiling. He pulls the door open wider. ‘Come in for a bit, I want to show you something,’ he says, and he steps back to let Jongin in.

 

The younger hesitates. ‘Jongdae made me promise to get you there by nine,’ he says, but Kyungsoo is adamant.

 

‘It won’t take long, I promise,’ he says, turning on his heel and heading to his bedroom. Jongin stands in the entrance, none too willing to set foot in the home Kyungsoo shares with Chanyeol. He’s been here before, of course, plenty of times, but - but that doesn’t mean he liked being there.

 

‘Here,’ says Kyungsoo, reappearing a few seconds later. He s a small box in Jongin’s hand, and it doesn’t take the younger long to realise what it is. He opens it.

 

‘Chanyeol’s wedding ring,’ he whispers, eyes registering the thick band of yellow gold. There’s a bit of a design engraved all around it, and Jongin can’t deny - it’s beautiful. It catches the light in an understated way, glistens just a little where the spotlight hits it.

 

‘His sister helped me pick it out last night,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, pulling his jacket on. ‘It was pretty hard for me to hide it from Yeol, and I mean - you’re my best man. I figured you could hold on to it, just for the next few days. For me.’

 

Jongin snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t want to walk around with this in his pocket. He doesn’t want to keep it in his apartment, doesn’t want another constant reminder that he’s about to lose Kyungsoo for good hanging around him. He doesn’t need it, but he knows what he’d agreed to - he can’t say no, at this point. So he settles for putting the ring own on the table by the doorway, avoids Kyungsoo’s gaze when he feels it fix on him.

 

‘Bars are prime ring-losing property,’ he mumbles, and Kyungsoo accepts the reasoning without contest. They lock up, they leave. Jongin tries not to think about how nicely Kyungsoo’s skin glows, even under the horrible yellow intensity of the streetlights.

 

‘Surprise, surprise - look who’s here on time!’ greets Jongdae, when Jongin pushes the bar door open with Kyungsoo trailing along behind him. The place looks as good as it did the last time Jongin came here - great atmosphere, good design. Baekhyun’s done a good job with the place.

 

‘I promised,’ mumbles Jongin, and he knows nobody’s listening to him because everyone’s starting to make a fuss over Kyungsoo. People they haven’t seen in years rush up to him, pat him on the back, ruffle his hair. Jongin hears someone call out a so you guys really managed to make it! over the crowd, and he grimaces.

 

He sits at the bar and orders a shot. He knows he isn’t really allowed to drink too much, what with it being his responsibility, making sure Kyungsoo gets home safe and sound and all, but.

 

He turns to look at Kyungsoo, who catches his eye and gives him a hopeless smile and an expression that screams save me as he’s being crushed by old classmate after old classmate, and Jongin feels himself begin to smile back.

 

He’s going to need every last drop of liquid courage he can get, tonight.

 

Jongdae and Baekhyun watch with amusement as Kyungsoo clings to Jongin, his head lolling on the younger’s shoulder, his lips fixed in a dreamy smile. He’s been like this for the past half hour, and still his friends haven’t gotten bored of  it yet.

 

‘What a crazy thing, huh, Jongin?’ slurs Kyungsoo, now rolling his glass on the table with clumsy fingers, ignoring the dirty look the bartender sends his way. ‘Marriage! Me! Next week, a wedding with Chanyeol!’ he exclaims, and he doesn’t realise when Jongin stiffens, just the slightest.

 

‘Mmhmm,’ agrees Jongin, jaw clenching as he tries his best to stop himself from saying something he might regret, especially now, in front of all his old friends. ‘Crazy,’ he murmurs, nodding just a little. The minimal alcohol he’s consumed has been enough to make him feel considerably less inhibited, but it doesn’t take away the bitterness he tastes on his tongue when he has to respond to Kyungsoo talking to him about Chanyeol. He’s so, so tired of this.

 

‘Between you and me,’ mutters Kyungsoo, leaning up so his lips are hovering by Jongin’s ears, ‘I didn’t really think this day would ever come. It took him six whole years to propose! Crazy! Imagine - imagine if I got sick of him? What if I ran away? What if I ran away with you?’

 

Jongin’s hand balls into a fist where it lays on his knee. There were a lot of things he was willing to put up with for Kyungsoo, but this - this was not one of them.

 

He sits up straight. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s well past 1 in the morning, they’ve been there for long enough. He turns to face Jongdae and Baekhyun, struggles to inject something genuine in his pained smile.

 

‘I think it’s time I get the groom-to-be home,’ says Jongin as he stands, grabs Kyungsoo by the arm, and hauls him up with him. ‘Thank you for throwing him this party. He - looks like he’s had a lot of fun,’ he continues, just as Kyungsoo leans against him.

 

Jongdae grins. ‘Our pleasure,’ he says, satisfaction clear in his voice. ‘You get him home safe, officer!’ he jokes, and a large round of goodbyes are had, and Jongin leads Kyungsoo out of the bar into fresh, crisp night air. He feels as though he can breathe again.

 

Kyungsoo comes to stand next to him, his eyes not all the way open - and, upon further inspection, indicating that he’s not really all the way there, right now - and Jongin can’t help but reach out to ruffle his hair, bring the elder’s head to lean against his shoulder as they wait for a taxi to come by.

 

It’s stupid, he thinks, acting on this impulse, but under post-midnight blue and shine, with Kyungsoo so perfectly warm next to him, he thinks he doesn’t care. He won’t be getting any chances like this one anymore.

 

A taxi draws up within the next few minutes, and Jongin and Kyungsoo bundle into it and sit back, listening to the radio host take messages from people they don’t know.

 

Our next message comes from Busan, for a special someone in Seoul.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything for a while, and when Jongin looks, he sees that the former has fallen asleep.

 

“There are things I could have said to you before you left, but I didn’t,”

 

Jongin lets his own eyes flutter shut.

 

“And not for lack of opportunity. I had plenty of those. I just didn’t know how to grab on to them, before it was too late.”

 

He feels Kyungsoo’s head fall against him, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t move, either.

 

“I’m drowning in regret, now, thinking of all of those wasted chances. I know I’ll get over it, I’ll get over you one day.”

 

They’re halfway to Kyungsoo’s place now, and Jongin keeps having to remind himself that falling asleep in a taxi isn’t exactly the safest thing to do, so he pinches himself from time to time.

 

“Today’s not that day.”

 

They stop at a traffic light, and Jongin watches as a woman playfully drags her partner along behind her, and when they get to the other side, she kisses him, and it’s a kiss of smiles.

 

“You might not be listening now, but I just thought you ought to know - I still think about you. All the time. And I hope - from the bottom of my heart - that you’re doing well for yourself, no matter where you are. I believed in you - and I always will.”

 

The sound of piano notes begin to float up to Jongin’s ears, and the voice of the main vocalist of a boyband he’s reluctantly admitted to liking before reaches from the speakers and caresses him, and it’s more a struggle than ever for him to stay awake.

 

They go over a speed bump. Kyungsoo’s head is jostled. He doesn’t wake.

 

Jongin smiles.

 

They reach Kyungsoo’s apartment complex a little while later, Kyungsoo slightly less tipsy now, but Jongin decides to see him upstairs, anyway.

 

‘That was fun,’ says Kyungsoo with a smile, once they’re both in the elevator. His eyes are on the digital number right above the door, watching as it climbs to his floor. ‘Seeing everyone was - it was great. I’m… Really happy right now.’ His smile blooms into a grin as he turns to look at Jongin, and he looks so heartachingly happy that the younger can’t help but smile back.

 

They step out once they reach Kyungsoo’s floor, and after he unlocks the door, he faces Jongin. ‘Thank you,’ he says, his eyes an intoxicating shade of brown, so soft in the minimal lighting. Jognin drops his gaze. ‘Hey - look at me,’ says Kyungsoo, softly, reaching out to touch his fingers to Jongin’s jaw. Jongin’s surprised by the action - he and Kyungsoo are comfortable with each other, of course, but Kyungsoo’s never touched him there, before.

 

Kyungsoo’s never looked at him in this particular way before, either.

 

‘What are you doing?’ Jongin tries to say, but his voice seems to lose its way halfway to his mouth. Instead what comes out is a barely audible whisper, and the next thing he knows, Kyungsoo’s lips are pressing right up against his, and there’s a fist in the front of his shirt, and Kyungsoo’s pulling him into the apartment. Jongin’s foot nudges the door closed on reflex, and they stumble clumsily over to Kyungsoo’s sofa.

 

Kyungsoo lands on top of Jongin, and the action knocks all the breath out of the younger, making Kyungsoo pull away. ‘It’s fine, I’m fine,’ murmurs Jongin, and even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though he knows this is the very epitome of a bad idea, he pulls Kyungsoo in for another kiss, a starving man finally finding the sustenance he’s been looking for all these years.

 

This isn’t right

 

He cards fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair, lays his hand on the elder’s waist.

 

You shouldn’t be doing this

 

Kyungsoo opens his mouth, lets Jongin taste, and the latter feels like crying. He’s been waiting so, so long for this moment. He doesn’t want to ruin it.

 

He belongs with Chanyeol

 

He does.

 

The words spill from Jongin’s lips without permission, his heart talking loudly over the protest that’s swirling in his mind: ‘Does Chanyeol make you feel like this?’ And Kyungsoo halts. He stops, he pulls away, the look in his eyes changing from something desirous, from something forbidden, to something shocked and afraid.

 

He pulls away, swipes the back of his hand over his lips. ‘This is not happening,’ he murmurs, blinking down at the floor as the haze in his brain clears, and the meaning - and the possible consequences - of his actions dawn on him. Jongin watches the change in expression and he scoots closer, in alarm, feeling this last chance, this last fragile grip he has on being with Kyungsoo begin to form cracks in its foundations, to begin its final path towards destruction.

 

‘You don’t have to fight this,’ he says, under his breath, the fear in his words disguised in his breathlessness.

 

‘You don’t understand,’ says Kyungsoo, not moving away when Jongin’s hand knots in the hair on the back of his head, warm breath on the skin of his neck.

 

‘What’s there to understand?’ asks Jongin, the desperation in his voice well-masked. ‘It’s pretty straightforward. You - ’

 

The rest of Jongin’s sentence never leaves his lips. Before he can register anything, there’s a dull pain in his lower back, and he’s all the way on the other end of Kyungsoo’s sofa, and it’s clear that the latter had just shoved him away, hard enough that the sofa’s armrest was beginning to give him a bruise.

 

It’s also clear, Jongin finds, that Kyungsoo is beginning to see red.

 

He spits the words out like venom, and they find their mark in the most tender spot in Jongin’s chest.

 

‘How could you do this to me?’

 

His voice is laced with undertones of fear, but they’re overshadowed by the anger that Kyungsoo doesn’t bother holding back.

 

‘Me?’ asks Jongin dumbly, barely understanding where all of this rage was coming from, all of a sudden.

 

‘Yeah, you,’ says Kyungsoo, his tone hard and accusing. ‘You were the one who kissed me!’ he shrieks, and if it hadn’t already done a couple of months earlier, Jongin’s sure his heart would have sunk to the bottommost part of his stomach by now.

 

His breathing gets heavy.

 

This can’t be happening.

 

‘I can explain - ’ it’s a stumble in the dark for Jongin, finding the right words, and he finds himself grasping at straws for any syllables, any sentences his tongue can curl around. Please, he thinks, don’t let things happen this way.

 

It’s a desperate cry for help that nobody really hears except himself.

 

‘There’s nothing to explain!’ says Kyungsoo, voice rising so rapidly that it’s starting to crack. ‘I’m getting married, and you have full knowledge of that - I asked you to be my best man, for crying out loud - ’

 

And these words - these words that Kyungsoo hurls at Jongin like burning charcoal - they make him realise something.

 

When you’re drowning in an empty river, surrounded by miles of nothing - the only one who can hear you is yourself. And no matter how hard you try - you can’t save yourself. You can’t throw yourself a rope or a life jacket, you can’t pull yourself out of the water that threatens to take you, mind and body and soul, claim you as its own - you will never be able to save yourself.

 

Jongin realises he’s tired of this feeling.

 

And so a fire sparks.

 

‘Excuse me?’ says Jongin, hotly, all the nerves and all the pain finally reaching their boiling point. ‘Are you saying this is all my fault?’ he spits, getting to his feet so his eyes are slightly above level with Kyungsoo’s.

 

‘Are you saying that it isn’t?’ challenges Kyungsoo, and those words are all Jongin needs. The floodgates break open, and before he has a chance to stop himself, to pull away from this and turn his back on Kyungsoo in silence, the thoughts and the feelings he’d been harbouring all these years finally bubble up to shore.

 

‘I didn’t make you go with me tonight,’ he begins, every word dripping toxic off his tongue. ‘I didn’t ask to get you alone just to ruin your stupid goddamned fairytale wedding, okay? I have better things to do than ruin someone else’s relationship. I have better things to do than try and wreck my best friend’s chances at happiness. I have better things to do than sit here, and let you blame me for something that I never set out to do, when all this time - ’ Jongin’s chest tightens here, and he hates himself for it, but he doesn’t try to hold it in any longer. He’s too tired of this.

 

‘All this time I have been sitting here, watching from the sidelines as you get ready for your wedding, sitting here just ing loving you from afar, knowing I will never be lucky enough to be the one who gets to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. Ever.’  He spits the last word out like it’s a poison pellet, and his chest is heaving, and his hands are balled into fists, and he’s torn between feeling like Atlas freed and feeling like a man who’d just been sent to meet Hades.

 

The silence that follows is a silent jeer, mocking him in the quiet, but Jongin doesn’t care.

 

It’s all out there now.

 

Kyungsoo knows, now.

 

And it’s the elder who breaks the silence.

 

‘Jongin,’ he says, at first, and his voice is so gentle and in such sharp contrast to the spikes of fire it had been earlier that it jolts Jongin, shakes the flames from his chest, makes him come to his senses again. ‘You - what?’

 

And this is the part where he says goodbye. He begins to gather up his jacket, his keys, conjures up a bit of a flurry while he gathers his things in silence. In his mind, Kyungsoo comes up to him, demands a proper explanation, doesn’t let him leave until he gets one.

 

In his reality, Kyungsoo stands stock still where he’d been for the past five minutes, his frame silhouetted against the moonlight.

 

‘Jongin,’ he finally croaks out, voice shakier than before. ‘Don’t go. We could - we could talk - ’

 

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ snaps Jongin, and it’s impulse that makes him pick up Chanyeol’s wedding ring on the entryway table, it’s impulse that has him crossing the room to press the box into Kyungsoo’s palm. ‘I think you’d better find yourself a new best man.’ He crosses the room again in large strides, but he hesitates when his hands touch the knob.

 

‘Jongin,’ says Kyungsoo again, and the shadows that fall on his face would have made it hard for Jongin to see if he were crying or not, had the latter turned to look at him.

 

Jongin did no such thing. His forehead pressed to the door, he promises himself that he’ll never do such a thing, ever again.

 

Not even for Kyungsoo.

 

Especially not for Kyungsoo.

 

‘For the record,’ he says, as he turns the knob and lets the colder air of the building corridor seep into Kyungsoo’s unit -

 

‘You kissed me back.’

 

x

 

The party at Sehun’s house, Jongin thinks, is going pretty well. Most of the kids in attendance are friends, and friends of friends, and as Sehun’s one and only oldest (and best) friend, Jongin knows them all. They pat him on the back, fistbump him, shake his hand as they come in. He points them in the direction of the food and the booze, and after a few minutes of polite conversation, the guests are off, and Jongin’s left to repeat the cycle again.

 

It really should be Sehun’s job, playing host, this being his party at his house and all, but Jongin finds he doesn’t really mind filling in. Standing by the door to let people in guarantees him the first sight of the friend he’d made a few months ago in his statistics class - the same guy he might have developed pretty intense feelings for over the course of the semester.

 

‘You see him, you jump on him,’ Sehun had instructed, hours earlier, before the party had started. They were sticky from carting in boxes of food and drink, and Jongin was already uncomfortable from the feeling of sweat making his tshirt stick to his back: Sehun was doing nothing to calm his nerves.

 

‘Not how it works,’ he had mumbled, shifting his gaze so it never met Sehun’s. He’d been all good and ready to go in the days prior, determined as he was to ask Kyungsoo out, but now, with the time finally upon him, his nerves were finally making their appearance. He didn’t think he’d be able to do it.

 

Sehun had gone to stand right in front of him, long hands grasping his shoulders. ‘No backing down, man,’ he’d said, strictly, even though Jongin still refused to look him in the eye. ‘If not for your sake, mine. I’m not sitting through another whiny night from you, with Kyungsoo being the cause for it. You get your chance tonight. You take it, hear me?’

 

‘I hear you,’ Jongin had said, and even though he was still doubtful, now, amongst the crush of people crowding Sehun’s house and with his drink in his hand, he actually dared think that he felt the courage. He felt like he might be able to do it tonight. And when Kyungsoo finally turned up at the door - he was proud to say that courage was still there.

 

He was going to do it, tonight.

 

‘Hey, Soo,’ says Jongin, smiling easily at the elder. Kyungsoo smiled back at him, apologised for being late, and Jongin shook his head. ‘No big deal,’ he says, before proceeding to usher Kyungsoo off in the direction of the kitchen, hearing himself promise the elder food even amidst the racket his heart was making.

 

‘SPIN THE BOTTLE!’ someone announced, not an hour later, when Jongin was still in the kitchen with Kyungsoo. They were seated at Sehun’s dining table, and Kyungsoo laughed when a bunch of his and Sehun’s mutual friends barrelled towards him, shoved him aside so they could sit at the table, too.

 

‘Where’s the bottle?’ asks Kyungsoo, and Baekhyun rolls his eyes before he downs the contents of his bottle in one shot, setting it down in the middle of the table as he winces from the alcohol attacking his system.

 

‘There,’ he says, and the rest of the group cheer.

 

‘Who’s spinning first?’ hollers Jongdae, shoving himself between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.

 

‘Jongin!’ Sehun supplies, in a tone that suggests that he thinks he’s being helpful, and when Jongin turns to look at him, the younger just gives him a smile. Not too hard, he mouthed, and grinned when Jongin’s fingers touched the bottle.

 

This is stupid, Jongin thinks, the cold, damp glass of the bottle resting under his fingertips. He flicks his wrist, somewhat powerfully, and leans back as he watches the bottle turn and turn and turn, eyes following the mouth end of it until it finally stops.

 

His friends start whooping, his ears start ringing.

 

His eyes fly up to meet the person the bottle is pointing at.

 

Kyungsoo.

 

The elder smiles a little uncertainly, shrugs at Jongin when their eyes meet. ‘The bottle stopped,’ says Kyungsoo, and his voice isn’t any different than it was a few minutes ago, but something about it makes a chill run down Jongin’s spine. Lady Luck must be smiling down on him, tonight.

 

Jongin mirrors Kyungsoo’s movements when the latter stands and leans over the table, his soft hand landing on the crook of Jongin’s neck. Kyungsoo’s eyes fall a little further closed, go hooded when their faces are a breath away from each other’s, and Jongin feels his heart leap from his chest right up into his throat - this is really happening.

 

He doesn’t have much time to admire Kyungsoo from this close, not with all their friends watching them. But he does notice the beautifully smooth curve of the arch of Kyungsoo’s nose, how long his eyelashes are, how beautiful the flush of his cheeks looks, sitting just underneath his skin.

 

He’s so beautiful.

 

And when Kyungsoo tilts his head a certain way, when their lips meet, when their noses press together as they kiss - Jongin feels like he’s soaring. He’s high up in the clouds, now, months of longing finally culminating in this moment: his lips against Kyungsoo’s, Kyungsoo’s fingers in his hair as he opens his mouth, lets Jongin taste him. Fireworks exploding behind his eyelids, heart beating rapidly in his ribcage - the feeling that he doesn’t think he could possibly go on living the rest of his life, not being able to feel this way again, not being able to do this with Kyungsoo again.

 

They pull away to the sound of catcalls, Jongin’s lips just as swollen as Kyungsoo’s as they sink back down into their seats, the elder getting nudged by Baekhyun, the younger getting violent pats on the back from Sehun.

 

The way Kyungsoo smiles at him over the course of the rest of the game - secretly, shyly, like they shared something nobody else at the table could possibly know about - it gives him hope. It plants, inside him, courage.

 

And that’s how, a little while later, once the game has lost its excitement and the thick of the crowd in Sehun’s house has dispersed, Jongin convinces himself to go and find Kyungsoo. He shrugs off conversation with other people as politely as he can, smiles friends off when they try to talk to him. He has to do this now, or he’ll never have the courage to again.

 

‘He’s out there,’ says Jongdae, when Jongin asks the elder if he’d seen Kyungsoo. There’s a little bit of a smirk on the elder’s lips, and Jongin can’t really tell why - they’re friends, yeah, but there was no way the elder knew about his feelings for Kyungsoo. Still, he’d told him where Kyungsoo was, so he puts the smirk down to the amount of drink Jongdae must have had that night, and sets off in the direction Jongdae had indicated.

 

He pushes past a few people, gets to the glass sliding doors that lead out to Sehun’s patio. It’s pretty dark outside, and Jongin doesn’t really know what Kyungsoo would be doing out there alone, but he doesn’t question it. Instead, he works on trying to subdue his nerves, maybe runs over the lines he’d practiced in his head time and time again in preparation of this moment one last time - and takes a deep breath.

 

He’s been waiting long enough to do this. Most of his friends didn’t take a whole semester to admit to the person they liked that they had feelings for them, and Jongin had lost track of the amount of times Sehun had told him to just grow a pair and ask.

 

And when he thinks of that kiss - he touches his fingertips to his lips. It was like discovering a beautiful new world between Kyungsoo’s lips, that feeling he got when they kissed, and Jongin knows he’s never felt something so right before in his life.

 

Kyungsoo is the one for him.

 

He just has to get the elder to see that, too.

 

His fingers catch in the small dip of the door lock and he pulls it open, goes over the words in his head again - Hey, Kyungsoo. I know this might sound a little awkward, coming from me, but -

 

But - those words never get the chance to fall from his lips, those words never reach Kyungsoo’s ears.

 

Because when Jongin steps outside, into the sticky summer night air, what he sees is enough to choke those words into a silent grave, it’s enough for him to feel like the new world he’d just discovered was only an illusion, a fragile one that’s crumbling before his very eyes.

 

Because there, shrouded in darkness except for the minimal lighting overhead, leaning against the side of Sehun’s house, is Kyungsoo. Beautiful Kyungsoo, captivating Kyungsoo, otherworldly Kyungsoo - with Chanyeol’s lips pressed against his own, with his fingers in Chanyeol’s hair, with Chanyeol’s arms gripping his waist.

 

And Jongin’s whole body is telling him to go, telling him to run, his brain giving one last shove to save his heart - but it’s no use. Once cracks form at an alarming rate - much like what’s happening with Jongin’s heart, now - there’s no stopping the inevitable shatter, the inevitable destruction. The newborn hope Jongin had cradled so close to his chest only moments ago was being snatched away, being stolen from him before he could even blink.

 

He stumbles backward into the house, his heart feeling like a weight he’d never borne before, sitting right in the middle of his chest. He was standing in the same spot less than a minute ago, almost skipping with anticipation, but now -

 

Now he wasn’t. Now he felt like a fool, like he’d wasted his time, like he’d been nothing but a starstruck loser who thought he had a shot at something - someone - untouchable.

 

He makes his way to Sehun’s bathroom, runs up the stairs two at a time, ignores the couples making out in the hallway.

 

He locks the door behind him, he crumples to the floor.

 

Seconds. Seconds, that’s all it took.

 

And yet - Jongin still can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

 

It was perfect.

 

x

 

Jongin sits, thinking about his first kiss with Kyungsoo, alone in the dark of his apartment, half an hour after he’d walked out on the elder after their second. He his lips, buries his fingers in his own hair, wants to yank it all out by the roots.

 

It was a mistake then, thinking that he had a chance with Kyungsoo.

 

He bites down on his bottom lip, breathes heavily through his nose.

 

It’s still a mistake, now.

 

‘You’re a ing idiot,’ Sehun deadpans. They’re both in Jongin’s apartment, the day after, and Jongin is face down on his couch, hoping maybe he’ll be able to stay in this position and not be expected to move - or be otherwise disturbed in any way - for the rest of his life.

 

Sehun has other plans.

 

‘You finally make out with him - two weeks before his wedding? What the is wrong with you?’ asks Sehun, and if he were the type to screech, he would already have by now. He isn’t, though, and Jongin’s somewhat grateful for that.

 

‘I know, alright,’ sighs Jongin, sitting up with his legs drawn to his chest so he can bury his face in his knees instead. ‘It was a move, and I’m a . I’m a massive .’

 

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ says Sehun, biting back the urge to laugh. His best friend is in distress - he shouldn’t be laughing at him. ‘You’re just - slightly less intelligent than I thought you were. Don’t blame you.’

 

His words are met with silence. Jongin doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t even peek out to look at his friend. Sehun sighs, his lips before he speaks again.

 

‘I don’t want to tell you to apologise,’ he begins, leaning forward so his elbows are on his knees, ‘But I don’t really see any other way. It’s going to be really awkward at the ceremony if you don’t.’

 

‘I’m not going,’ mumbles Jongin.

 

‘What?’

‘I’m not going.’

 

Sehun’s mouth drops open. ‘What? Dude - what are you even talking about. You have to go.’

 

‘I don’t.’

‘Look - it’s his ing wedding, man - ’

‘And that’s exactly why I don’t want to go.’

‘You’re his best friend.’

 

Jongin lifts his head then, rests it on his arms as he looks at Sehun. ‘So?’ he challenges, and if he weren’t in the process of soldering his heart back together, Sehun would have punched him.

 

‘Jongin - it isn’t worth it. Okay? I’m telling you now - it isn’t worth it.’

‘What are you talking about?’

 

Sehun massages his temples with two long fingers, clasps them together again before he speaks. ‘Your friendship, okay? At the end of the day - you’ll always still have the chance to salvage that with him. It might not be what you want to have with him, but - but is losing him entirely worth it? Is your pride really that important to you?’

 

Jongin’s throat runs dry. He doesn’t really know what to say. He looks away, shame beginning to moisten his eyes and he doesn’t want Sehun to see him cry. He doesn’t want to show anyone how weak he’s become.

 

Still, he doesn’t cover his ears, and the next words Sehun utters are heard with such clarity that it reminds Jongin of a well-cut diamond: shaped with precision, cut without forgiveness.

 

‘And if that pride is really all that’s standing in your way - can you even say you ever really loved him?’

 

Monday morning is almost painful for Jongin. He wakes up knowing that he’s going to have to face Kyungsoo today, knowing that it’s going to be difficult avoiding someone when you work on the same floor, three cubicles over. Still - he doesn’t think it would be impossible. So when his alarm rings an hour early, he doesn’t make for the snooze button. Instead, he swings his legs out of bed - ignoring how the wood beneath his feet is still the kind of cold only early morning could bring - and heads straight to the shower, gritting his teeth when cold water kisses his skin.

 

He gets dressed in record time, stops by a coffee shop for something to warm him up a bit on the way to work, and is grateful that he manages to make it there before eight. It means he has time to get in his chair and set himself up to be ignored by Kyungsoo for the rest of the day, hopefully all the way up until it’s time for him to go home.

 

When he gets there, he finds a bright yellow post-it note stuck on the top of his closed laptop, one that’s written in Junmyeon’s hasty hand. Need to see you, first thing. In office by 9, come to my room ASAP, it says, and Jongin’s brow furrows. He makes a mental note of it before he crumples up the note and throws it away.

 

He sets his things down and takes a long drag from his cup, ducks his head when people start filing into the office a good half hour later.  He can hear the sound of Kyungsoo’s voice talking to someone else, and Jongin’s quick to get out of his chair and rush over to Junmyeon’s room, lest he be spotted. He doesn’t want to face Kyungsoo yet. He’ll probably never be ready to.

 

It’s empty, when he gets there. The lights are off and Junmyeon’s probably still on his way, so Jongin makes himself comfortable in the chair opposite Junmyeon’s, across the desk. His eyes are telling him to take a nap, but his mind tells him no. He might be a long-time friend of Jongdae’s, but that wasn’t a reason for him to expect Junmyeon to tolerate unprofessional behaviour.

 

So instead he leans back - Junmyeon wasn’t the type of boss to demand his team be rigidly disciplined around him, he liked them to be at ease; just not overly informal - rests his head on the back of the chair and looks up at the ceiling, counting the seconds that go by.

 

About five minutes later the door creaks as it swings open, the lights are switched on, and Jongin hears a sound behind him that makes it sound as if someone had just jumped. ‘Jongin?’ calls Junmyeon, and the younger swivels around in his chair. ‘What are you doing here? Before me, I mean?’

 

‘Nothing,’ says Jongin, smiling easily at Junmyeon. ‘It’s just that I haven’t really got much to do at the moment, and I thought I’d just come by ASAP, like you said.’ He leaves out any mention of Kyungsoo. He doesn’t want word to get out to Jongdae, because telling Jongdae something is the equivalent of telling Baekhyun something, and Jongin would rather not wake up to eager faces crowded around his bed, demanding answers.

 

‘Oh,’ says Junmyeon, nodding. He settles in his chair and powers on his desktop, before he faces Jongin again. There’s something different about the smile on his face, now, something Jongin can’t quite place, but he sits up straight, anyway. Thinking back on his performance as of late - he doesn’t think it could be anything bad.

 

‘What did you want to see me for?’

 

Junmyeon clears his throat. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard about the new manager slot opening up at the Wonju branch. Apparently the manager that’s there now - Kim Minseok, we joined up at the same time - he’s getting married to some guy from China in the new year, so he’s moving there.’

 

Jongin nods as he takes all of this in, anticipation running rampant in his veins. ‘Okay,’ he mumbles, urging Junmyeon to go on.

 

‘Well - last week I got a call from HR. They wanted to know if there was anyone I would recommend, and if I could give them a good report on the person. It didn’t take me long to decide, really. I gave them your name.’ Junmyeon smiles at this point, and Jongin knows he’s expected to smile back, but he can’t.

 

‘Jongin - they called again last Friday, after you left. Congratulations. You got promoted.’

 

Jongin’s heart is pounding so loudly in his ears it feels like he’s backstage at the big top, crashing cymbals and voices shouting and a general air of excitement surrounding him.

 

He got the job. He’s been promoted. He’s going to be based in a whole other city, which means - which means he’ll be away from Kyungsoo come the new year.

 

He has the chance to leave all of this heartbreak behind, start anew.

 

The thought of it makes his mouth go dry.

 

‘Junmyeon,’ he croaks, ‘Junmyeon. I - thank you.’

 

‘You don’t need to thank me, Jongin. It was your own hard work and perseverance that got you the - ’

 

But Jongin doesn’t let him finish, stoppers the long-winded, motivational speech that’s about to spill from Junmyeon’s lips with an interruption. He gets up, leans across the table, and hugs Junmyeon around the shoulders.

 

‘You don’t understand,’ he murmurs, grinning, now. ‘You don’t understand. But, just - thank you.’ He pulls away, pats Junmyeon on the shoulders, and turns around to leave, a very confused almost ex-boss staring after him.

 

This - this was the new beginning he’d been praying for.

 

He can finally see it.

 

He meets Sehun for dinner, that night, for a little celebration between the two of them. Jongin raises his eyebrows when Zitao walks past Sehun and gives him a flirtatious smile, and the younger responds by blushing. He watches with amusement as introductions are had and, a few minutes later, numbers are exchanged.

 

He’s leaning back against his chair when Sehun finally turns up at his cubicle. Jongin’s got a smug grin on his face, and the smile on Sehun’s vanishes almost instantly.

 

‘What?’ asks Sehun defensively. Jongin responds by allowing his grin to grow wider, and Sehun rolls his eyes. ‘It’s nothing, okay?’ Sehun says, the same tone of defensiveness still in his voice.

 

‘Sehun.’

‘What?’

‘I didn’t even say anything.’

 

Sehun smacks his palm against his forehead. ‘Look - can we just get out of here? I’m ing starving and with the new promotion, I’m letting you pay for my food.’

 

‘What an honour,’ says Jongin mockingly, rolling his eyes.

 

They leave the building and walk up the street with relative haste, Sehun’s growling stomach urging them on. By the time they reach Sehun’s favourite bulgogi house, Jongin’s almost doubled up, panting by the door, but the younger pays no heed to his best friend’s suffering. He simply pushes the door open, tells Jongin to get a grip on himself, and yanks the elder in behind him.

 

‘What are you having?’ asks Jongin, his eyes scanning the menu. The prices aren’t too bad, considering. They’re in a beef place, after all.

 

‘Everything,’ says Sehun happily, fingers not even touching the menu.

 

Jongin drops his own. He fixes Sehun with a stare. ‘Everything?’ he deadpans. ‘Really?’

 

Sehun nods.

 

Jongin sighs.

 

Their first dish arrives a few minutes later, and Jongin swears he hasn’t seen Sehun as happy as he is when he gets his tongs around a strip of the uncooked beef.

 

‘So. How’d it happen?’ asks Sehun, eyes still fixed on his cooking.

 

‘It just - I mean I came in early, to avoid… Him, and when I got to my desk there was a note there waiting for me. And it told me to see Junmyeon. So I did, and… That’s how I got the job, I guess.’ Jongin’s elbows are on the table, his chin cupped in his palms.

 

‘Cool. And you start… When?’

‘In the new year. Apparently the old manager already has a place set up for himself in China, and he’s just filling in until I can arrive. The company will sponsor my accommodation until I find a place.’

‘Sweet.’

‘Yeah.’

 

Silence falls between the two men, the only sounds they can hear being the chattering of the other customers and the meat sizzling and spitting oil between them. Jongin begins counting the seconds between when the meat is turned and when the spitting stops, and Sehun lets out an audible sigh.

 

Jongin raises his eyebrows as Sehun sets his tongs down.

 

‘Okay, ’fess up. What’s the deal?’ asks Sehun, not bothering to hide the bored tone in his voice. ‘What’s got you so down?’

 

Jongin sighs, too, then. He isn’t really sure how to answer Sehun’s question, because, well - truth be told, he doesn’t really know what’s wrong with him. He looks Sehun in the eye. Sehun’s always been able to read him, he thinks. He settles on just trying to explain the situation to the younger.

 

‘It’s just that I… I finally have this chance, you know? The chance to make everything change. I mean - the job’s in a whole other city, Sehun, I’ll be living there, starting a whole new life there, meeting new people there.’ He stops here, his throat beginning to close up. He’d been so excited just hours earlier, but now, in front of Sehun - he doesn’t know if it were all a charade, or if these were his true feelings.

 

He’s scared.

 

‘There’s a “but” coming,’ observes Sehun. ‘Come on, tell your old friend Sehun. I’m waiting,’ he says. There’s a note of encouragement hidden between the bored words, and Jongin picks up on it.

 

‘I don’t feel right,’ says Jongin plainly. ‘If I leave the way things are now… I don’t think I’ll ever feel right, not even all the way in Wonju. I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know what to do… About him.’

 

Sehun picks up his tongs again, serves Jongin the first pieces of meat, taking the other half for his own plate. He sets the tongs back down and starts dipping his meat a little enthusiastically into the sauce. He takes a large bite before he speaks again.

 

‘So what are you going to do about it?’

 

‘I don’t know,’ says Jongin, pushing his meat around in the sauce dish. ‘I mean… I said some pretty awful things to him, Sehun. And - and he knows now, he knows how I feel about him. It isn’t like I can just pretend that he doesn’t.’

 

Sehun chews on his food quickly, swallows before JOngin even lifts his to his lips. ‘Want me to tell you how to fix it?’ he offers.

 

Jongin nods.

 

‘Make up with him before you leave,’ Sehun says, with the air of a man telling his companion something that’s painfully obvious. ‘Go to his wedding. Valiantly offer your services as best man again to him. Do something dramatic like that, it’ll have you feeling better in no time,’ mutters Sehun, his concentration now shifting back to his food.

 

‘I don’t… I don’t know - ’

 

‘Look, Jongin - if you don’t do this, you’ll regret it. The way I see it, if you’re so scared of not knowing - you have two choices.’ Sehun holds up two fingers. He pulls one down. ‘One - going a week not knowing, going to the wedding, and then spending the rest of your life happy because at least now you have some kind of closure, or two. Two, you could spend the rest of your life not knowing, and regretting the fact that you didn’t turn up to your friend’s wedding, all because you’re so afraid of what’s going to happen.

 

‘Let me ask you a question, Jongin: maybe, in this life, you don’t get to spend the rest of forever with Kyungsoo, but is regret really the next best option for you? Is that really how you want to live your life?’

 

Jongin hangs his head.

 

‘If it is,’ says Sehun, blowing on his meat. ‘Then I suggest you make peace with it. I can’t help you. You’re the only person who can help yourself.’

 

Jongin sighs.

 

‘I know.’

 

Jongin doesn’t get much sleep that night. Every time he closes his eyes, he gets attacked by a new vision: an empty, shiny new apartment filled with ghosts of his past, the first time he kissed Kyungsoo, the first time Chanyeol kissed Kyungsoo in front of him, the second kiss he shared with Kyungsoo, the wedding, Kyungsoo’s face, Kyungsoo’s hair, Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo -

 

He sits up as the sun rises, clenches his fist around a pillow, hurls it at the wall.

 

Kyungsoo fills his every day even when he doesn’t want him to, his every night even though he’s tried so hard not to let him. He doesn’t want to live the rest of his life this way, with this guilt hanging over him, this sickening guilt - but he doesn’t know if he has the courage to go through with the only thing that will set him free.

 

He doesn’t know if he has the courage enough to go and see Kyungsoo, to go to his wedding, stand by his side as he gets married to someone else.

 

He doesn’t know if he wants to.

 

You’re the only person who can help yourself.

 

Sehun’s voice echoes in his mind, and Jongin throws himself back down on his bed, almost screams all his frustration out -

 

But he doesn’t.

 

Sehun’s right, he knows that now.

 

There’s only one thing he can do.

 

The day of the wedding dawns white and slightly warmer than the days prior, and Jongin feels his heart quaking with every step he takes towards the hotel. It stands before him, large and majestic and intimidating, and he wonders, for a brief moment, if what he’s doing is the right thing. How could he be sure that Kyungsoo even wanted to see him at this point? They haven’t spoken since that night.

 

You’re the only person who can help yourself.

 

Is regret really the next best option, for you?

 

Jongin shakes his head. He knows the answer to that question: it’s no. It always has been no, he was just too afraid to own up to it. Owning up to it meant acknowledging that he’d have to see Kyungsoo at some point, that he’d have to talk to him at some point.

 

He clenches one fist, grasps the wedding present in the other hand. The day has come and he can’t do anything to push back time, to rewind to when this choice was still a far off illusion for him.

 

He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, is immediately ambushed by a smiling Jongdae and Baekhyun, Junmyeon close by Jongdae’s side. ‘There’s our new Wonju manager!’ exclaims Jongdae, giving Jongin a pat on the back. ‘Congratulations!’

 

‘Thanks,’ says Jongin, somewhat ruefully. ‘Listen - do you know where Kyungsoo’s room is? I kind of need to talk to him.’

 

Jongdae steps back, surprise clear on his face. ‘What kind of a best man are you?’ he asks, his tone almost convincingly appalled, if it were not for the mischievous smile he was wearing on his lips. Jongin gives him a playful punch on the arm and a half-hearted excuse, and is sent on his way.

 

He reaches Kyungsoo’s room not long afterward, sparks shooting down his fingertips as he knocks. ‘Kyungsoo,’ he says, so gently he isn’t sure anyone on the other side of the door could actually hear him. ‘Kyungsoo, I’m coming in,’ he says, a little louder, and he pushes.

 

Light streams in from the windows, its white curtains drawn back to allow the sunlight to bathe the colours of the carpet lying on the floor. The bed is a four poster with sky blue and cream covers, the wood of all the furniture painted a similar cream. Swirling dustmotes make Jongin feel as though there were an air of magic in the room, and there, sitting at the foot of the bed - is Kyungsoo.

 

‘Hi,’ he says, a little breathlessly, when he spots the groom in his wedding garb. Kyungsoo’s hair has been slicked back, his deep purple tie looking especially striking against the white of his dress shirt. Draped across the back of a cream, floral patterned armchair is the blazer that goes with his black slacks, and Jongin almost lets his jaw drop.

 

‘Hello,’ returns Kyungsoo, slight uncertainty in his voice. ‘I… I didn’t think you would make it.’

 

Jongin sets the wedding present down on the table by the door, and hesitates. All his confidence has left him. If he thought he couldn’t do it before, now, with Kyungsoo so beautiful and right there in front of him - it’s nothing compared to what he feels now.

 

He scratches the back of his neck. ‘To be honest,’ he begins, ‘I didn’t think I would, either.’

 

Silence cradles them in its hold, and Jongin thinks they would stay like this forever if he doesn’t speak. So he clears his throat.

 

‘Listen, about what happened - ’

‘No, Jongin, you don’t have to say it - ’

‘Kyungsoo.’

 

The elder shuts his mouth. He looks into Jongin’s eyes, and the younger feels something pick at his heart when they meet. ‘Please,’ says Kyungsoo, ‘Please.’

 

And Jongin understands. Kyungsoo had said not more than one word to him, and Jongin still understood.

 

Please don’t tell me you love me.

 

Jongin his lips.

 

‘I’m sorry about the other night. I was way out of line, and you told me to stop, and I didn’t. I should have, but I didn’t. And all those things I said,’ he pauses, takes a deep breath, ‘I take it back. I take it all back. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have said any of those things to you.’

 

Jongin hangs his head, lets his gaze drop Kyungsoo’s and slide onto the carpeting.

 

‘Jongin - ’

‘Just accept it. Don’t say anything else, please, just. Just... Don’t.’

 

It’s Kyungsoo’s turn to hang his head, his shoulders slumped, and Jongin shuffles off into the armchair, careful not to jostle Kyungsoo’s blazer. He buries his face in his hands, and speaks from behind them. His voice comes out muffled, this way, but he thinks that’s okay. He’d rather have Kyungsoo think it was because of his hands blocking the sound, rather than the truth: his throat was closing up, his eyes were welling up - he was crying.

 

He hasn’t cried in a long time.

 

‘I got a promotion.’ His words break the silence between them, and Jongin still doesn’t look up. ‘I got a promotion, I’m going to be a manager, come the new year.’

 

‘Jongin, that’s great,’ says Kyungsoo, and Jongin can’t help but think that he hears a tone of relief in the elder’s voice. It stings a little.

 

Jongin takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes on his palms. He exhales sharply.

 

‘I’m moving to Wonju,’ he says, and he looks at his feet as he says it. ‘I’m packing up this weekend, and leaving. I’m going to live there, now.’

 

His words hang between them, and he can hear Kyungsoo trying to find a proper way to start his sentences, but he can’t. ‘That’s great,’ is all he says, again.

 

‘I’m leaving.’

‘I wish you luck.’

‘Thank you.’

 

Jongin walks towards the bathroom and washes his face, stares at himself in the mirror above the porcelain sink. Just over his shoulder he sees Kyungsoo, slouched at the foot of his bed, and - and it’s like the sun is hitting him in a different way, the light bending around him so that he sees Kyungsoo in a different way.

 

He his head to the side. Kyungsoo’s engagement  ring glistens, catches the light and strikes him straight in the eyes. In the elder’s hands is a box Jongin recognises - and something in his chest begins to slow down. He begins to feel calm, he begins feeling - he hopes - the onset of something he’s been waiting to feel for a long time: acceptance.

 

There are some things he won’t be able to change.

 

He steps out of the bathroom, every move he makes feeling steadier than the last, every second that passes calming his once-agitated heart. By the time he reaches the foot of the bed - by the time he reaches Kyungsoo, when their eyes meet - he knows what he’s doing is right.

 

He holds his handout - and for the first time in a long, long time, it isn’t in the hope that Kyungsoo will take it.

 

Kyungsoo opens his mouth to speak, but Jongin gets there first.

 

‘I heard you still need a best man?’

 

The ceremony, Jongin notes, was beautiful. Chanyeol hadn’t stumbled over his vows like Jongin used to wish he would, Kyungsoo’s voice didn’t shake as he made promises of forever. Jongin had stood by Kyungsoo’s side all throughout it, just about two feet away. Chanyeol had looked so nervous when it came time for him to speak - but Jongin had caught his eye, gave him a small smile and a nod of encouragement, and he saw the way the elder’s eyes changed, how they became set with determination.

 

Chanyeol recited his vows flawlessly right afterward, and as much as Jongin wanted to feel completely happy, completely at ease with this - he couldn’t deny that it still hurt. Somewhere inside, he thinks, he will always be carrying a torch for Kyungsoo. It may dim with time, it may lose its brilliance - but it would never, ever go out.

 

And that, he decides, as he joins the crowd in watching the newlyweds dance, that’s fine. That’s completely normal, an indication that he was properly living, instead of just being alive. It’s an odd feeling, Jongin acknowledges, still having feelings for Kyungsoo even after he’d handed him the ring that would bind the elder to someone else for the rest of his life, but there was also another feeling, a gentler spark, one that warmed him instead of burned him.

 

Chanyeol dips Kyungsoo clumsily, pulls him back up and presses his forehead to his husband’s. There’s a smile on Kyungsoo’s face that Jongin’s only ever seen when Chanyeol was holding him, when Chanyeol was speaking to him. It’s a different kind of happiness, he thinks, when you’re with the one you’re meant to be with.

 

He didn’t try to come between them. He’d removed himself from the situation, he’d accepted, however reluctantly, that he just wasn’t the one for Kyungsoo, and maybe it was a little too late, but it was still, at least, something.

 

The crowd of dancing people begins to thicken, and, slowly, Jongin lets himself be pushed out of the crowd, into the outskirts of it. It takes him a while to realise that it’s all over, now.The wedding was over, words were said, and the future - the future looked brighter to him than it ever did before. He was going to start fresh. He was going to go somewhere else, meet new people, clear his mind, start his new job. He laughs to himself as he thinks about the possibilities that lie ahead of him - among them, finding new love.

 

To his left, he spots Sehun, dancing shyly with Zitao. Jongdae has his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder, Baekhyun was busy sampling the desserts. These were the people he was about to leave behind. They were his friends - they’d carried him through more than they even realised, and now, Jongin thinks, now is a good time to learn to carry himself.

 

Through the mass of people separating them, Jongin manages to catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo. He’d stopped dancing by now, his hair sticking just the slightest to his forehead. Around his waist is Chanyeol’s arm, and Jongin doesn’t miss the way Kyungsoo’s body leans into the touch, he doesn’t miss the way the smile that’s on his face glows with the kind of light that makes Jongin want to smile, too.

 

Kyungsoo is still so beautiful in his eyes. A different kind of beautiful, the kind that’s meant to be admired from afar and not owned, and Jongin realises that now. He understands.

 

His breath almost catches when the elder looks him in the eye.

 

The smile fades from his lips, and it looks like he’s about to make his way towards Jongin, to say something, but Jongin isn’t entirely sure he wants to hear it.

 

The time has, finally, come.

 

He grimaces, tries to force his lips into a smile. The air is filled with music, with well wishes, high spirits, but it also rings with a kind of finality only two people can really feel.

 

Jongin raises his hand. He waves at Kyungsoo, tries for the most genuine smile he can manage.

 

From across the room, Kyungsoo does the same.

 

It lasts for a moment, but Jongin feels an eternity pass in the time it takes for a single grain of sand to fall into the bottom of the hourglass.

 

When it does, he drops his hand. His smile grows more subdued. He turns and leaves.

 

A new life, he keeps telling himself, new possibilities. All I have to do is take them.

 

It’s the last Kyungsoo ever sees of Jongin.