Is she not with you? Please tell me she’s with you–”

“I’m sorry, Mrs–”

“That girl will give me a sooner or later –she’s not answering calls, do you have any idea where she might be?”

He does and he sees you sitting by that particular bench, facing the shoreline. The phone call was on a loop in his head; your mother’s worried tone was still how he remembered it to be.

Minho couldn’t blame her. The two of you were like two peas in a pod since kindergarten and if there was anyone that you could be with, it was him. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, that things were different now, that it wasn’t just him anymore.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was here, it’s been too long since then. The two of you came across the place while walking home from school one day. He sat in his car, almost seeing the image of two teenagers in untucked school uniforms, stumbling on sea pebbles and worn in sneakers.

It was never serious. The times he spent with you were always so light yet full of heart, filled with breathless laughter. But this place, this place held endless conversations of hopes and dreams, sincere thoughts and raw feelings. Being here meant something more than just a casual stroll, and he wondered what it was that you had in mind to be all the way here. There was no car in sight and he realizes that you must’ve caught the usual bus, feeling sentimental over the thought. Because after all this time, you still remember.

The evening sunset spilled across the horizon as honey red dissolves into warm pinks and oranges, the blue of the sea no longer there. He didn’t have much time before the spectacle disappears, finding himself walking over to you and he stood behind you before he gathered the courage to intrude. He never imagined that he’d feel this cautious around you, hell back then, you even shared the same personal space.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Minho –hey.” You turn to face him in surprise, sinking in his question with a frown, “Why would you ask that, it’s yours.”

A small smile leaves him and he rounds the bench to take his seat next to you, just like he used to. The two of you sat in silence, a part of him glad that at least this stayed the same, that he didn’t feel the need to say anything for this to be comfortable.

“I understand why people watch sunsets.” You interrupt the sound of waves lapping by the rocks and he looks at you, waiting for your answer.

“It clears your mind.”

“What are you thinking?” He says, eyes drifting across your features when you turn away to face the sea. There was a hint of exhaustion, or sadness, he couldn’t quite point it out.

“Nothing, for now.”

Even after slowly growing apart the past year, he knew you well enough to know that this wasn’t the case. He could almost hear your thoughts in a language he didn’t understand.

“I’m getting married tomorrow, are you coming?”

Minho blinks, the hitch in his pulse catching him off guard. It was a little over a month ago that he came home to the invitation, staring at your name next to a name that wasn’t his. He stared a little too long until the lines blurred, the words fading to a nonsensical mess.

“Of course I am.” He wanted to ask how you could ask such thing, fearing that your answer would remind him of feelings that shouldn’t be.

“Is that why you’re here?” Minho says after a while, breaking your silence.

“She sent you, didn’t she?” You ignore him, facing a smile his way and he wonders if it was the wind that dampened your eyes.

“Hm, let’s go? Before she files a police report.”He jokes lightly, hopping up to his feet and he was surprised when you oblige quietly, running your hands over your thighs as you get up to follow him into his car.

“Can we just stay for a bit?” Your sudden request halts him from buckling his seatbelt and he looks up to see you leaning into your seat, shooting him a gentle smile. He couldn’t say no when he looks at you this way, you always had your way with him and he didn’t mind, he never did.

“Let me stay for a while.”

“Okay.”

He figured that you must’ve have been having sleepless nights, the way you dozed off almost instantly. It wasn’t until it started to rain, the flash of lightning followed by the crackling of thunder that shot you awake.

Minho jolts up in his seat to you, placing a hand on your shoulder to ease you back.

“Go back to sleep.” He whispers lowly, hovering over you to adjust your seat more comfortably, “Is this okay?”

“Will we?” Will we be okay? Minho stops, eyes wavering to yours and he finds your face inches from his. He senses the desperation and pain in those two short words, fighting whatever was left in him from kissing you right then.

“We’ll figure it out.” Hurt, he pulls back before he could regret it, “We always do.”  

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