When Kyuhyun sees Taemin’s name on the call display, he almost doesn’t pick up.

Not because either of them has any hard feelings. It’s complicated, Taemin always knew that, always understood. They text, they e-mail, they send each other links to stupid Internet videos. But they don’t talk. Taemin sounds a little too much like Sungmin these days, and it’s just—Kyuhyun’s over it. He is. But it’s better if they don’t talk, because sometimes he forgets that.

He doesn’t know what makes him answer. Maybe it’s because he knows Taemin understands their arrangement, so if he’s calling, he must have good reason.

Maybe Kyuhyun is just a glutton for punishment.

Either way, he picks up. “Hello.”

Taemin’s voice sounds just as he expected it, which only makes sense: he’s twenty-four now. Of course he has a man’s voice. “Hey, Kyuhyun.”

But he also sounds… not the way Kyuhyun expected. He sounds nervous, hesitant. Kyuhyun exhales steadily. “What’s the matter?”

Taemin lets out a choked laugh. “I need a favor.”

Must be a hell of a favor, Kyuhyun thinks, if it has him worked up like this. “Okay,” he hedges. It can’t be money; Taemin makes enough of it these days. “What kind of favor?”

“I need you to be Dad’s date to my wedding.”

*

Kyuhyun carefully does not crush his cell phone. He takes a deep breath and avoids asking if Taemin is serious. Kris might make a joke like this, but Taemin wouldn’t. Kyuhyun drunk-dialed him enough times, after. He’d know…. He wouldn’t.

Kyuhyun opens his mouth to refuse. What comes out is “Taemin….”

Taemin sighs miserably. “Look, I wouldn’t ask if—you know I wouldn’t. Just, I told you about Minho’s family, right?”

Taemin’s fiancée comes from a family of what Kyuhyun would charitably classify as whackjobs. Minho, on the other hand, is a lovely guy, and Taemin is nuts for him. “What about them?” Kyuhyun says, thumbing absently at his ring.

“Don’t get mad,” Taemin says, as if that’s the problem here. “When we first got together his mom went on this tangent about how important it is for young couples to have parents in committed relationships as role models. Honestly, it was like a lecture in why Minho and I could never work out. And then in the same breath, she goes, ‘I’m so happy your father is with that Giroux fellow.’” He sounds miserable, having to say that to Kyuhyun. “I have no idea where she got it, I swear to God. I was so shocked I never bothered to correct her, and now….”

And now they’ve been together four years, and the wedding is in a month, and it’s a bit late to tell his in-laws he’s been lying by omission.

“This is why your dad always says not to let a lie fester,” Kyuhyun says grimly.

“Don’t think he hasn’t reissued that lecture recently,” Taemin sighs. “Minho knows, obviously. He met Dad and stuff; it would’ve been impossible to keep it from him. But we agreed it’d be better to wait until after the wedding to tell his parents.”

We agreed. They’re such a couple now. It reminds Kyuhyun how much Taemin has grown.

He hopes Taemin is better at relationships than Kyuhyun turned out to be.

“So will you do it?”

He doesn’t want to. Oh, he’d love to go to Taemin’s wedding—if it wouldn’t be awkward to attend as a guest, not as his pseudo stepdad. He’d rather be traded to the Penguins than spend a weekend pretending to have the life he lost ten years ago.

But he can’t say no. Or—he can. He got a lot of practice in, years ago, when it seemed like Sungmin wouldn’t. They fought over it enough.

He doesn’t want to do it, and he doesn’t want to be the one to say no, so he says, “What did your father say?”

He must have refused, and Taemin’s asking Kyuhyun now so he’ll have more leverage.

“That he was disappointed and he taught me better,” Taemin admits. “But he said he’d do it if you would. There were conditions. I’m not supposed to beg or bribe and stuff. Guilt trips are strictly off the table.”

Damn it.

Taemin pauses. “So will you do it?” he asks again, and suddenly he’s fourteen instead of twenty-four, and this time Kyuhyun doesn’t have to say no.

“Okay,” he says finally. “Send me the details.”

He already knows he’s making a mistake.

*

When Kyuhyun’s phone rings two hours later, he doesn’t even need the call display. He does, however, need the twenty-three-year-old wine in the glass on the table next to him.

He downs the wine and answers as evenly as he can. “Hi, Sungmin.”

“Kyuhyun.”

It would be easier if Sungmin were cool toward him, if he could make Kyuhyun believe Sungmin hates him, or if Sungmin would just put Kyuhyun out of his misery and marry one of the women he’s low-key dated in the past ten years. But even though they rarely talk, even though the conversations they have are fraught and sometimes stilted, Kyuhyun just—he can’t believe anything over the warmth in Sungmin’s voice. It’s a problem he keeps trying to talk himself out of having, to no avail.

Of course, Sungmin follows up this sweet greeting with “Have you been drinking?” So, yeah. There’s that judgmental reminder of their breakup. It works just as well as a bucket of ice water.

“Not nearly enough for this conversation,” Kyuhyun answers. Kyuhyun is the injured party here. Sungmin needs to remember that. “Congrats on Taemin’s engagement.”

“Thank you,” Sungmin says pleasantly. Then he adds, that self-deprecating filter firmly in place, “Let’s hope he’s better at marriage than his father.”

Kyuhyun takes a careful breath and clenches his fist until the ring on his middle finger digs into his palm. “I guess you want to talk strategy.”

“Ah, no, actually. I just wanted to make sure you’re really okay.” He pauses. “Taemin will understand if you back out. I know he put you in an awkward position.”

You put me in an awkward position, Kyuhyun thinks uncharitably. “It’s fine,” he says shortly. “You know I’d do anything for the boys.”

Another pause, longer and softer this time. “I do know that,” Sungmin says at last. “Thank you.”

It makes Kyuhyun grit his teeth. Sungmin shouldn’t be thanking him. This has nothing to do with Sungmin. “Whatever.” He makes himself breathe in for a four-count, out for five, before he says anything he might regret. The options swim behind his teeth, circling, desperate for a way out. “So. What’s the plan?”

*

The plan, apparently, is for Kyuhyun to spend the next month quietly freaking out. A few times, he picks up the phone, intending to call Taemin and tell him he can’t do it after all. Something came up. He needs physio. Death in the family. Anything. Taemin could pass the lie on to his in-laws.

And then he remembers Taemin at fourteen, and the look on his face when Kyuhyun said he wouldn’t be living there anymore, and he can’t do it. He puts the phone down every time.

He puts off packing up his house, telling himself he’ll do it after the wedding. He’ll need the distraction then anyway.

The kicker of it is, he and Sungmin have been living in the same city. After he retired, Sungmin stayed put, raised his kids just like he always planned. He’s still in the same house now even though the boys are gone, Taemin to live with his boyfriend in USA, Kris to China and Sunny went to Japan. But even though Sungmin’s house isn’t that far apart, even though they still have a lot of the same friends, they don’t see each other much.

Kyuhyun wonders sometimes if Sungmin puts as much effort into avoiding encounters as Kyuhyun does. At least he won’t have to work so hard in the future.

For now, though, he rolls his carry-on into the first-class lounge and draws the shutters around his heart.

Sungmin looks the same.

Or he doesn’t really. Gray sprinkles his hair and laugh lines mark his face and he seems softer than he did. He keeps cutting his hair differently but every style he picks is equally stunning. It doesn’t matter how he changes, though, Kyuhyun always sees him at thirty-one, laughing and fond or sad but resolute.

Most days, Kyuhyun’s over it. But that only lasts until the next time he sees Sungmin, and then his heart breaks all over again.

He pastes on a smile and kicks out the chair across from Sungmin. “You would be here early,” he teases, gesturing to the signs that Sungmin’s been waiting a while already: a spread-out newspaper, an empty coffee cup, a pile of crumbs on a tiny plate.

“Force of habit,” Sungmin says wryly, smiling. He always claimed he had to start trying to leave an hour before he needed to be anywhere, because it would take that long to round the boys up. “You look good.”

He makes it seem like such an easy thing to say, when Kyuhyun wants to reply in kind but can’t get the words through the tightness in his throat. “Thanks.”

He sits down, leans back in the chair to avoid meeting Sungmin’s gaze. “So,” he says. He doesn’t know where to begin: small talk, or planning for the upcoming week, or some platitude about how they’re both adults and they can do this for Taemin even though it’s awkward as hell.

Before he can decide, Sungmin nudges his foot. “Relax. Taemin asked them not to pry.”

“Oh, well, that makes everything easy,” Kyuhyun deadpans. “We just have to pretend we didn’t break up ten years ago.” He doesn’t know what he’s more afraid of: that it will be difficult, or that it won’t.

“He filled in all our friends who’re coming,” Sungmin goes on “But Kyuhyun, if this makes you uncomfortable—”

“Don’t,” Kyuhyun says. “Of course it makes me uncomfortable, Sungmin, God, I’m human. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it.” He pauses. “Taemin better get me something nice for Christmas, is all I’m saying.”

Sungmin stands and grabs his paper. “I’m gonna put this back. You want anything?”

Their flight boards in twenty minutes. “I’m good,” Kyuhyun says. It’s a lie, but an easy one, and if Sungmin notices, he lets it slide.

They have seats together in first class. Even after more than fifteen years of frequent air travel, Kyuhyun hasn’t kicked the habit of gritting his teeth at takeoff, and he curses when he realizes he didn’t bring any gum.

Next to him, in the window seat, Sungmin quirks up one corner of his mouth and offers a Lifesavers mint.

Of course he does. “Thanks,” Kyuhyun mumbles, taking it.

Sungmin smiles and leans back. Some things never change: he’s asleep before the wheels leave the ground.

Kyuhyun twists the ring on his middle finger and on his mint until the plane levels off, then closes his eyes to try to get some rest.

*

He expects Taemin to pick them up from the airport, which, he reflects when he sees Kris instead, is probably stupid. He’s never gotten married himself, but he imagines the week leading up to the big day must be chaos.

“Hey, Dad,” Kris says, so cool as to almost be laconic, and then he pulls Kyuhyun into a hug. “Kyu. Can’t believe you let Taemin talk you into this.”

“You’d think I’d know better by now,” Kyuhyun says lightly. It probably doesn’t disguise how badly he needs the hug—not from Kris and certainly not from Sungmin—but it gives him some degree of plausible deniability.

“You always were a little slow to catch on.” Kris smiles. “Come on, I’m supposed to bring you right to Minho’s parents’, and traffic’s going to be a nightmare.”

The next five days are going to be a nightmare, Kyuhyun thinks. He lets Sungmin take shotgun so he can lean his head against the window in the backseat of Taemin’s SUV and pretend to sleep.

“Minho’s parents are having everyone over,” Kris explains as he changes lanes. Kyuhyun lets his voice wash over him. “Like, us and the wedding party and some of Minho’s relatives and stuff. Something about the families getting to know each other.”

Kyuhyun can’t think of anything he wants to do less.

At first it’s just an informal sort of gathering. Minho’s parents obviously have more money than Kyuhyun will ever make in his life, but they seem normal for obscenely rich people. At least, normal compared to the stories Taemin has told. Minho’s mother has a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes and the waistline of someone who doesn’t believe in liposuction, and she greets Kyuhyun and Sungmin with hugs instead of air kisses or something. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” she gushes. “We’ve heard so much from Minho and Taemin.”

Well, here’s the first problem: Kyuhyun hasn’t heard much about her except that she’s kind of nuts and is convinced he and Sungmin have been together for more than a decade.

“You have us at a disadvantage,” Sungmin says smoothly. “We only get them for a few days at a time. I’m Sungmin, by the way.”

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Jessi