Jongdae looks down at the lyrics he’s written on his notebook and sighs. He lifts his pencil to scratch them out, thinks better of it, and leaves it. The lyrics are something he doesn’t necessarily want to remember, but he can’t help but hold them close to his heart. It’s been two years, two long and lonely years.

It wasn’t as though he wasn’t used to being away from his beloved for such a long time, but he always had the thought that as long as Junmyeon was waiting for him back home, he’d be okay. It had been this thought that had sustained him for so long as he travelled the globe in order to try to realize his dream, but it was the exact same thought that had caused him to lose Junmyeon. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was taking advantage of Junmyeon, but he had been, and now he no longer had Junmyeon.

He knew there was no excuse, however, for his sleeping around. While Junmyeon waited for him back at home, in the apartment that he knew so well, he slept with other men in different cities, in different countries. If there was something that he regretted, it was that. He knew that he had no excuse for it, and even now when he thought back about it, he didn’t really know why he had done it in the first place, but it had torn him away from Junmyeon.

Perhaps Junmyeon was right to cut him off.

When Junmyeon had told him to not come back on that night two years ago, Jongdae had cried. He knew that he deserved it, knew that he had been in the wrong, but there was a part of him that continued to yearn for Junmyeon. He missed Junmyeon, missed the way he could always curl up in his arms when he was tired, missed the way his eyes would crinkle when he smiled, missed the sound of his laughter.

Jongdae’s grip on his pencil tightens and he bites down on his bottom lip, trying to stop himself from crying. He had brought this upon himself, he thinks, he had no right to cry, not when Junmyeon had probably shed even more tears over him.

But Jongdae misses him. He misses him so, so much.

He swallows, continues writing words in his notebook, turning them into song lyrics. He holds his pencil just that bit tighter, his heart just that bit heavier, and he writes. Maybe, he thinks, if he were sincere enough, if he could prove that he was good enough, maybe, just maybe , he could convince Junmyeon to forgive him.

Jongdae’s new single is a hit.

Even if Junmyeon hadn’t been actively keeping up with Jongdae - or Chen, as he was now - it was difficult to avoid him. While he had started with Uprising and thrown the whole music circuit into a frenzy, it wasn’t a song that would normally be played in parts of town where Junmyeon ventured. Just Awake had come after, and it was the same Jongdae-esque tune, but not something that Junmyeon would familiarize himself with. He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t searched out the song just to see how Jongdae was faring, but after that he’d told himself that he shouldn’t get any deeper.

Yet, Jongdae’s newest song, Best Luck , is so very different from his previous ones that Junmyeon had to pause during his meal with Kyungsoo to make sure that the voice that he was listening to was actually his.

“It’s his song, isn’t it?” Kyungsoo asks, and Junmyeon blinks. He swallows dryly and smiles. There’s no need for him to answer, of course; Kyungsoo already knew. “His voice has improved a lot, now that he isn’t attempting to scream his vocal chords out.”

Junmyeon chuckles, his mood lightening at Kyungsoo’s attempt at a joke. He wasn’t wrong, of course, since Uprising and Just Awake were rock and metalcore respectively, and while it was very Jongdae , it did require him to continuously scream into the microphone. When Junmyeon had first heard it, he’d been so very worried for Jongdae, until he remembered that Jongdae wouldn’t be returning for him to fuss over any longer.

“He’s always been reckless,” Junmyeon recounts fondly, his smile turning sad. Kyungsoo puts down his cutlery and reaches over to pat him on the cheek, jolting the older man out of his reverie. Kyungsoo’s smile is half sympathy and half comforting, no words needed to communicate between the both of them. Two years isn’t that long a time, no, but Junmyeon and Kyungsoo hadn’t needed time to be able to understand each other. “I know.”

Pleased, Kyungsoo picks up his glass of red wine, holding it by the stem and offering it up to Junmyeon in a toast.

Junmyeon clinks their glasses together, smile crinkling his eyes, and drinks to Kyungsoo’s happiness, to his own, and to Jongdae’s.

Jongdae stands in front of his fans, smiling down at them. He wishes, hopes beyond hope, as he searches the crowd, that there will be the face that he’s looking for, but, of course, there isn’t. Junmyeon isn’t here. Why would he be, after all?

Because I wrote this song for him , Jongdae thinks, then scoffs at himself. And how was Junmyeon supposed to know that, when they hadn’t had any contact in the past 2 years? He holds his mic in one hand, using the other to wave at the crowd, laughing and joking and playing around with them. He ups his fanservice, winking into the cameras he knows belongs to the fansites, wiggles his fingers at the ones he recognizes from his fansigns, sticks his tongue out at the newer fans playfully, and even starts to chant along to his own name when that one male fan in the back started to yell it.

This is what he’d been working towards for so long. So long of singing in bars around the world, around the country, performing his best and singing until his chest is heaving, the exhaustion of having to reach out to his dream all culminating into this one moment, where he could stand in front of his fans and have fun, take pleasure in performing.

This is what he’d wanted for so long.

Jongdae receives the cue from the stage manager and smiles at his fans again, bowing low to them, ninety degrees, until he can only the floor and his shoes. He straightens up as the music starts, and all the cheers die down, until Jongdae looks forward and sees not the crowd that he had bowed low to, but Junmyeon’s visage, his smile, and Jongdae smiles sadly, lifts the microphone up, and Jongdae sings.

I dream every day

Of holding your hand and flying forever, until always

When he finishes the last syllable, Jongdae sees Junmyeon holding out his hand, and his lips part, his own reaching out to try to grab onto it, to hold onto the hand he had so easily let go, but then the music stops, and Junmyeon vanishes as Jongdae blinks. His fans are screaming, yelling that it’s okay, and it’s only then that Jongdae realizes he’s crying. The stage manager comes on to pat him on the back for what he thinks is a spectacular performance, not knowing that Jongdae had not planned on crying, had not planned on reaching out to a figment of his imagination.

Jongdae - Chen - smiles, and he bows low to his fans once more, wiping his tears away gently so that he doesn’t smudge his make up. He waves at them even as he’s ushered backstage, and he thanks the staff for taking care of him before he disappears into his dressing room, his manager following and closing the door before any other staff can enter, locking it.

It is here that Jongdae collapses, breaking down into tears that he can’t stop from falling. He falls into Baekhyun’s arms, his manager and best friend holding him close, one hand around his waist and the other in his hair, soothing and comforting. Jongdae relishes in the warmth of the embrace, but he can’t help but yearn, can’t help but wish he was in someone else’s arms.

“I miss him, Baekhyun,” Jongdae sobs, clutching tighter to him. “I miss him, I miss him so much.”

Baekhyun manoeuvres them so that he’s sitting on the couch, letting Jongdae curl up into him. He pats Jongdae gently on the head until the other’s sobs die down into hiccups and small sniffles. Jongdae stays silent for a while, through which Baekhyun continued to run his fingers through Jongdae’s hair. “Are you okay now, Dae?”

Jongdae nods, albeit shakily. Baekhyun sits him up and pats Jongdae’s cheek, handing him a box of tissues. Jongdae wipes his face of tears, lets Baekhyun touch up his eyeliner - “See, you should just change to this brand! It’s waterproof!” - to which Jongdae laughs and thanks the heavens for his best friend and manager.

“Come on,” Baekhyun says, standing up and pushing a mint into Jongdae’s hand, who rips the wrapper open and pops it in his mouth. “The broadcast’s ending soon; You need to get your victory speech ready.”

Jongdae bites down on the mint, and Baekhyun flinches. “Blasphemy,” His manager mumbles, and Jongdae grins. “I might not even win,” He points out, to which Baekhyun rolls his eyes and doesn’t even deign to answer him.

It’s when Jongdae stands beside the emcees and listens to them speak when Jongdae decides that he wants to change things. He wants to reach out and grab onto his happiness the way he decided to reach out to grab a hold of his dream. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s sung to the masses, gathered a huge following of fans - and here he waves to them, winks at them, because it’s them that allowed him to get to where he is now - and he’s realized his dream.

But Kim Jongdae cannot truly say that he’s happy.

So when he’s handed the award by the emcees of the music show, he bows, and he holds the microphone up to his lips. He thanks his family, his fans, his company. He thanks Baekhyun, who’s always stood by him no matter how tired he is, thanks Chanyeol, who helped him compose Uprising , Just Awake , and worked with him as he struggled to self compose Best Luck . “And lastly, I want to thank my Guardian,” Jongdae says. He can hear his fans go wild in speculation, can almost feel Baekhyun having an aneurysm backstage. “My Angel, I haven’t seen you in a long time. This award, this song is for you. Meeting you, so long ago, was the best kind of luck.”

Jongdae grins, holding the trophy up, feeling more accomplished than he had in months, as Best Luck starts to play again and he sings the encore that he’s given, all the while waving at his fans, playing with them, and wondering if Junmyeon would one day be here for him, too.

Kyungsoo probably has some kind of Jongdae sensing powers, Junmyeon thinks, when he opens the door to see the younger man there, asking him if he’d already watched the recording of Jongdae’s newest comeback.

“You know I don’t keep up with him,” Junmyeon sighs, letting his closest friend in. Kyungsoo quickly moves to his couch to turn on the television and drags Junmyeon down with him. Honestly, Kyungsoo moved around this apartment like he owned it. Junmyeon was tempted to talk to him about it, but then he realized that Kyungsoo was just making sure that he wasn’t cooped up in his apartment all the time, and then there was no way that he could be mad at Kyungsoo. How could he, after all, when Kyungsoo had stood by him through one of the hardest periods of his life?

Junmyeon watches the recorded broadcast on Youtube - how it had been uploaded so quickly, Junmyeon will never know - and he smiles softly, unconsciously. His gaze, his attention, is riveted entirely to the figure on the screen, and Kyungsoo watches him knowingly, a small smile of his own spreading on his lips.

“And lastly, I want to thank my Guardian. My Angel, I haven’t seen you in a long time. This award, this song is for you. Meeting you, so long ago, was the best kind of luck.”

The words jolt Junmyeon out of his reverie, and he comes to the realisation that this is why Kyungsoo had come over to his house so quickly after the broadcast, asking him if he’d watched it. Because Kyungsoo, despite everything, despite all that had happened 2 years ago, was still watching Jongdae’s performances, was still looking out for Jongdae, not for himself, not for Jongdae, but for him, Junmyeon.

“It’s for you, isn’t it?” Kyungsoo asks, but it’s not really a question, no. Kyungsoo already knows, just like Junmyeon does. “The song, the award. It’s all for you.”

The doorbell rings, at that moment, and they both look up. Kyungsoo looks at Junmyeon in question, tilting his head, but Junmyeon shakes his in return. He hadn’t ordered anything, neither had he bought anything online recently. Junmyeon walks over to the door and pulls it open, and his breath stops.

Because there, right there in front of him, was Kim Jongdae.

“What if he doesn’t take me back?” Jongdae asks, shaking. Baekhyun frowns at him through the rearview mirror, and Chanyeol grabs Jongdae into a headlock, playfully messing his hair up. They don’t answer his question, and Jongdae doesn’t expect one. How were they supposed to answer it, after all?

They leave him at the entrance of the building with instructions to call them if it doesn’t work out, and they’ll speed right to him. Jongdae shoots both of them a grateful smile and quickly disappears into the building before anyone can recognise him and cause a commotion. That’s the last thing that he wants, right now.

He bites down on his bottom lip as he waits in the lift, each floor that he passes filling him with more and more anxiety. He’s hopeful, but at the same time he dreads Junmyeon’s answer. What if it’s no? What if he doesn’t forgive him?

He stands outside Junmyeon’s apartment, and he’s so close to just turning around and leaving, because he can’t do this, he’s too weak, he can’t handle it. But then he hears, through the door, the sound of his own voice. He hears his own winning speech from mere hours before, and his lips part, eyes widening in recognition and hope. Jongdae swallows, heart pounding, and he knocks on the door.

There’s a few seconds of wait, but the door is pulled open, and Jongdae’s breath hitches in his throat. Kim Junmyeon is beautiful, Jongdae thinks, as beautiful as he had been when he’d left two years ago. He’s still here, standing in front of him, and Jongdae can’t think of anything else.

His eyes flicker over to the television and the sight of himself singing Best Luck greets him. Junmyeon is watching him, Junmyeon heard his speech, Junmyeon… Is not alone.

It hadn’t occurred to Jongdae - and now he thinks that he was an idiot - that the man he had seen two years ago would still be here with Junmyeon. Perhaps he had, like the past, believed that Junmyeon was incapable of falling in love with someone else. When he had returned to find Junmyeon with the very same man then, Junmyeon hadn’t explicitly confirmed that they were together, and Jongdae… Jongdae had hoped.

Now he sees that he had been wrong to.

Jongdae trembles, utter despair filling him, similar to the way it had when he’d been told to leave that night. His hand, shaking, reaches into his pocket, ready to dial Baekhyun’s number when the other man stands up and grabs his things.

“I’ll be going first then, hyung,” He says, shooting Junmyeon a pointed look and giving him a quick hug. “Sehun’s waiting for me at home.”

It’s only when Kyungsoo disappears into the lift with a cute little wave at Junmyeon that Jongdae turns back to Junmyeon. “You’re not… Together?”

Junmyeon turns to look at Jongdae, his eyes cold and shuttered. Jongdae flinches, wanting to curl into himself. Perhaps it’d been too much to hope that, after two years, Junmyeon would have forgiven him, just a little. Then again, Jongdae thinks, it had been. He’d left Junmyeon time and time again, coming back after months, having slept with other people while Junmyeon had waited faithfully for him at home. Yes, it was too much.

“I thought I told you not to come back here,” Junmyeon says, and a part of him relishes the way Jongdae flinches again. But Junmyeon’s a man that had been hurt multiple times by the very same person standing in front of him right now. He can’t help his almost knee jerk reaction.

Jongdae looks down at his feet, determined to, at least, get Junmyeon to forgive him. He wants more, yes, but he won’t hope for it. Forgiveness is what he wants, now. “Did you listen to my new song?” He asks, even though it’s pretty much rhetorical, since Junmyeon had opened the door when the music program was still broadcasting.

“Cut to the point, Kim Jongdae,” Junmyeon snaps, not in the mood to play Jongdae’s games. “What are you doing here?”

Jongdae takes in the features of the man he had once called his lover, at how stressed out he looks, how utterly exhausted he is, and he crumbles. He had come back, hoping to get another chance, but it seems as though whatever damage that he could have done, he’d already done it.

“I came to apologise,” Jongdae mutters softly. “And to ask for your forgiveness. I didn’t, when I came back two years ago. I’d like to ask for it now, if you’ll give it to me.”

Junmyeon looks at Jongdae’s defeated countenance and gestures for him to enter. He turns the television off as Jongdae sits down awkwardly, not knowing where he stood with Junmyeon right now. He hasn’t known for years now.

“Talk.”

Jongdae takes a deep breath, and it all comes spilling out. The apologies, the loneliness, the despair, the hope. He knows none of it can be compared to what Junmyeon went through, and not only because he had been the one to bring it onto the both of them. He’d been the reason. If he had just stayed faithful, just tried his best in Korea where he could return to Junmyeon routinely, they wouldn’t be like this.

When he finishes, Junmyeon isn’t looking at him, but at his hands. He’s not saying anything, even though Jongdae desperately wants for him to. Something, anything, even if it’s to chase him out of the apartment, would be better than this silence.

“Hyung?” Jongdae starts, cautiously. “Hyung, I’m sorry. I am, and I- If you could forgive me, if you never want to see me again, as long as you forgive me-”

“How could I not want to see you again?” Junmyeon asks, laughing humourlessly. “I waited 2 years for you. Even when I told you not to come back, I still wanted you to return, still clung on to the hope that you would go against my wishes and come back for me.”

Jongdae opens his mouth, but Junmyeon shakes his head and cuts him off. “And yet, I don’t trust you. I can forgive you for what you’ve done, but I can’t forget. I can’t forget the months of loneliness, I can’t forget the way you would come home smelling like other men. I can’t forget that, Jongdae, and because I can’t do that, I can’t trust you.”

“Y-You don’t have to,” Jongdae quickly returns, and he moves to the ground, on his knees, holding Junmyeon’s hands in his own. “Not now, at least. I’ll earn it back, your trust. I don’t care how long it takes, or how much I have to do. As long as there’s hope that you’ll trust me again, that you’ll be with me again, I’ll do it.”

Junmyeon looks at Jongdae then, really looks at Jongdae. The reckless teenager trying to chase his dream is still somewhere within Jongdae, he knows, because it’s part of Jongdae’s personality, and nothing can change that. But there’s also maturity, and deeply etched sadness with his eyes, in the lines of his face, in the way his shoulders are sagged. There’s history and loneliness, and now, he sees, hope in the way Jongdae is still here.

“Will you?” Junmyeon asks, because he’s human, too, and humans have doubts, especially when they’ve been hurt time and time ago.

Jongdae nods, fervently. “I will. I promise, Junmyeon, I promise.”

I promise .

“You’ve broken your promises before,” Junmyeon informs, and Jongdae’s lips part in desperation because he knows that that’s not something he can deny. “What makes this time different?”

Jongdae rises, slowly, until he’s face level with Junmyeon. He moves closer, asking for permission that Junmyeon wordlessly gives. Just before he seals their lips together for the first time in years, he breathes out: “This time, I know how you feel. Just once, hyung, please believe in me.”

And Junmyeon does. He always has.

Uprising & Best Luck, Jongdae's first and third songs in the fic, are both, of course, sung by Jongdae himself. Just Awake is a song by the Japanese band Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - the song is metalcore with screamo, so please be aware of that - that Jongdae reminded me of when I first entered the EXO fandom. Of course, because the song is in Japanese, let's pretend that Jongdae sang a Korean version.

The title of the fic is taken from BoA's No. 1. It's also the song that Jongdae remade the MV of, which I thought felt fitting, since the song is about separation, but also still having the other party as first in their hearts.

I would like to dedicate this to Alex, as well as to Cynthia. While it is highly unlikely the both of you will ever read this, I'd like to thank the both of you. Alex, I've said all there is to say, but thank you for staying with me. Cynthia, you tried your best to kick my into writing this fic, and while you didn't succeed yesterday, if it were not for you, I would not be in this fandom, and thus this fic would not exist. Thank you for putting up with me.