E

“I, Lee Sunho, vow to take…”

Despite the way he seems, all independent-like and distant, celebrated drama actor and iron king of CFs, Eric needs Shinhwa most. He needs Shinhwa desperately, and by Shinhwa he means the music, thirteen albums’ worth of it, Hagyeolsa and Brand New and The Classic, and the fans, Shinhwa Changjo, and asking to play Starcraft at three in the morning, and ketchup pranks, and losing games on purpose because he’s too lazy to try for very long, and accidentally meeting cranky ballad singers in the apartment complex parking lot, and drinking himself silly with Jun Jin at the cheap bar in Gangnam, and smelling burning things like scorched barbecue pork, and cantaloupe-orange lanterns strung up in milky ways and golden stardust, and Eric and M and M’s style and Mr. Kim and Hyesung and Jun Jin and Andy and Mun Junghyuk and Lee Minwoo and Kim Dongwan and the urge to tell Dongwan to shut up and Jung Pilgyo and Park Choongjae and Lee Sunho. And Lee Sunho, and Lee Sunho.

“...to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health…”

Eric needs Shinhwa. Six names, six wholes, six hearts.

“...to love and to cherish until death do us apart.”

Five and a half isn't enough.

M

Minwoo cannot count how many times he's kissed Andy. He's stolen at least a couple dozen before the cameras, pecks on the nose, cheeks, even lips. On variety shows, and aired interviews, and concerts. Those can be counted, on his ten fingers and ten toes; he’ll use Dongwan’s if he needs more.

But there are those that can’t. Winter evenings, and wineglass susurruses, and hovering too long over Andy’s slumbering figure deciding where to place his lips before settling, always, on the forehead.

And in between cotton blankets and plastic shower curtains, and pool matches and dance routines and the distance from Busan to Incheon.

Torchlight-tides-woven-in-twilight kisses, the scent of Andy’s cheek and sweater. Short kisses on the brow where his smile begins, and too-long kisses stuck in a tangle of arms and laughs.

No matter how much he thinks about it, those countless kisses can't seem to add up to her one at the altar.

D

Dongwan remembers that on talk shows people used to joke about how Andy seemed like the oldest in the group. He was earnest and mature, and his hyungs’ tendency toward mischief only cemented him more deeply in the role of the reasonable straight-man. They would often be at the mercy of his dignity and demand for order, and, in the cases of Minwoo and Dongwan, striking height.

Dongwan remembers wondering if he ever had the chance to genuinely give Andy advice.

For Andy, he’d never really had any to give. Andy was reliable. Andy was responsible. Andy took care of himself well, and while everyone fussed over him because he was the youngest he probably needed the least fussing over.

Perhaps Dongwan should’ve fussed over him more while he still had the chance.

H

There are times when Hyesung finds solace in Andy. Times of chaos and insanity, of Jun Jin and Minwoo and Dongwan and Eric. Eye of the storm Lee Sunho, Lee Sunho who understands things like personal space and respect. Lee Sunho who’s really good at cooking and unlike Eric would take the time to explain, step-by-step, exactly when and where to pour the sesame oil, and how much.

Lee Sunho who’s never too noisy, Lee Sunho who never gets into brazen fights, Lee Sunho who’s careful when he’s drunk and says please and thank you and excuse me and hyung, can I? before he commits to his actions, because he’s the only one courteous enough to ask Hyesung for permission.

Hyung, can I come over?

Hyung, can I follow you onto the Weekly Idol appearance?

And hyung, can I marry her?

J

Jun Jin was the one the fans had matched with Andy as the second water and oil, the maknae line push-and-pull, summertime hide-and-seek, hot and cold, silly and stern and stiff lines of awkward tension in between. They could not have been any more alike in the most different of ways. Jun Jin was never one for verbal gymnastics while Andy had been the meticulous businessman, calculating and precise and perhaps a bit stingy--but they’re equally talkative, although it hardly ever appears that way because Choongjae is on the average louder and more entertaining. Both are spoiled by their hyungs in doting attention, both have, as they all always do, sacrificed themselves for the sake of Shinhwa.

Jun Jin was the one that knew Andy’s recipes by heart, as if they were the choreographies to Wow Wow Wow, Wild Eyes, Wa. Not because he cared or remotely understood anything about cooking, but because he's watched him go through the motions and measurements so many times, and, more importantly, ended up tasting them afterward, carbonara pastas and chocolate cakes.

Jun Jin was the one whom Andy always asked first when it came to video games, although as Jun Jin wasn’t really one to be technologically competent apart from knowing his emojis, Andy always ended up playing with Eric instead.

Jun Jin was the one Andy always felt most awkward with, because Jun Jin seems always so fast, even the way he talks is fast-fast-fast, cataract dribble of Seoul inflections and energetic conversation markers. First in anger and first in forgiveness, first in joy and first in sorrow. Andy, reserved, trimmed by brittle restraint and softer subtleties, always had to run to catch up. But not this time, this time Andy is first.

Jun Jin was the one whom Andy spoke to after dusk, bitter nothings and quiet musings about the future and painting patterns and constellations into the skyline. Tentative whispers and star-crossed secrets, and silent wishes that these moments would last forever.

Jun Jin was the one who loved with an openness Andy could never hope to know, laughed with his soul half hanging out of his mouth and made the world laugh along with him. Jun Jin was the one who had poured all of himself into every waking moment of his life.

Jun Jin was the one that caught Andy and held him close, kept him safe from the wind, the sun, the rain, the world.

And when Andy strides down the aisle, the tails of his penguin suit bouncing to the lonely two-four of the ringing bells, Jun Jin is the one who gives him away.