It’s six o’ clock, and Junmyeon is finally done with cooking. He’s at cooking even on his best days, but today he’d wanted to give it a try. He surveys the table for the last time, tastes the pasta again just to make sure nothing was wrong. It wasn’t delicious, but it was good enough.

Satisfied, he unties the apron at his waist and heads for the bathroom for a quick shower.

He’s not sure why he’s done something like this, anyway. He and Yixing are not the type to cook dinner for each other. At least, they’re not anymore. Not when they’re both too busy with their work and hardly ever see each other these days. But it was their ninth anniversary. This was a special day. It had to count for something.

Right?

Yixing hadn’t mentioned anything about it when Junmyeon saw him this morning. Not that Junmyeon was waiting for him to—Junmyeon hadn’t known what day this was either. If it weren’t for his phone reminding him, he’d have forgotten about it entirely.

Having a high position at work allowed him to take the afternoon off. He sent a simple text to Yixing, telling him he’ll be cooking dinner tonight. Junmyeon wouldn’t blame him if he forgot about their anniversary as well. Yixing hadn’t replied, but surely he got the hint, right? It’s not like Junmyeon cooked everyday…

Junmyeon stands under the showerhead and lets himself get lost in the warmth of the water. He closes his eyes, and wonders why he’s not looking forward to their dinner as much as he thought he would.

Yixing does not come.

At half past nine, a simple text of Working late. Can’t make it comes in his stead.

Junmyeon stares at the pools of melted wax on the table, the candles having burnt to stubs an hour ago. He turns on the lights and sits back down. He stares at the plate in front of him.

What a waste, he thinks. He picks up his fork. The pasta is cold and rubbery. Junmyeon keeps chewing, but he can’t taste a thing.

It’s already ten o’ clock, and Junmyeon is getting worried. But Yixing promised he’d come. And Junmyeon promised that he’d wait. They both hadn’t counted on a sudden downpour, however.

He almost steps out into the rain, but an approaching figure halts his footsteps. He nearly faints from relief when the figure steps into the light and he recognizes it as his boyfriend. Yixing has both hands folded by his stomach, which seemed to be protruding. His face breaks into a grin as he sees Junmyeon, and runs the rest of the way to him.

“You idiot!” Junmyeon scolds. “I keep telling you to always keep an umbrella in your bag. You’re going to catch a cold like this!”

“I’m sorry,” Yixing says with a laugh and leans in to kiss Junmyeon in the cheek. “Did you wait too long? I missed the bus so I had to walk here. But I saved the cake!” He opens the front of his jacket and reveals the small box that he’d been holding inside. “The frosting’s probably all melted, though,” he adds sheepishly.

Junmyeon fights the smile that threatens to break his jaw. He must have fought it too much, because tears start to fall down his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” his boyfriend asks worriedly.

Junmyeon shakes his head. “You didn’t have to do something like this. It’s not like we’re celebrating anything big.”

“You just finished your midterms! It counts as a special day.”

“But it’s raining…”

Yixing sighs and gives him a gentle pat on the head. “Doesn’t matter if there’s rain or snow, Mian,” he says.  His smile is soft, but it still brings out the dimples in his cheeks.

“If it’s for you, I’ll always come.”

Junmyeon wakes up to the sound of plates clinking and water running. The other side of the bed is cold, and it looked like it hadn’t been slept in. It didn’t bother Junmyeon anymore. He’s been sleeping alone for quite a few months now. There was a reason somewhere—Yixing working late hours, Yixing not wanting to disturbhis sleep, Junmyeon being too much of a clingy sleeper… It was always one of those. They’d argued about it before, but Junmyeon is too tired for a fight this morning.

He shuffles into the kitchen. Yixing is already taking off the apron at his waist. He sees Junmyeon and smiles (though it looks more like a grimace).

“I didn’t think you’d be up this early. I already ate breakfast.” When did they stop eating breakfast together? They used to fight over Junmyeon always wanting more pancakes.

Junmyeon does not reply, and an awkward air settles in the room.

“Anyway, I, uh…need to go to work,” Yixing says, scratching the back of his neck. “So, yeah. Enjoy your breakfast.”

Yixing starts for the door, but suddenly halts infront of Junmyeon. He stands there for a second, before hesitantly placing a peck on Junmyeon’s lips.

It was barely a kiss, but it leaves Junmyeon confused. Yixing hasn’t kissed him, let alone touch him, for so long now. So why…?

His ears register the sound of the door closing shut.

Junmyeon notes how there was no mention of last night. Perhaps that was what the kiss was for? Suddenly he could taste the other’s apology and regret on his lips. But what was Yixing feeling regretful for? Was it for missing their dinner, or was it regret from not leaving as fast as he could to avoid Junmyeon entirely?

He looks around at the kitchen. The table bears no evidence of the dinner he’d left on it last night. In their stead are more traces that Yixing left for Junmyeon.

I’m sorry, whispers the coffee, still steaming in the mug. (But Junmyeon hates hot coffee)

I’m sorry, the plate of pancakes murmurs, the slab of butter melting at its top. (But there are no extras, just a single stack of neat, uniform cakes)

I’m sorry too, Junmyeon thinks, as he leaves them both untouched.

Junmyeon remembers being sure he was in love with Yixing.

They were both in college then, both fraught with their own burdens. Junmyeon was struggling with putting himself through college, his parents making it clear that they wanted nothing to do with him after he came out as gay. Yixing, on the other hand, was struggling with being alone in a foreign country. Both penniless, they resort to living in the cheapest rooms they can find—at the goshiwon.

The goshiwon was dreary, and so was life in general. Junmyeon lumbers home one night, eyelids drooping with exhaustion from school and his part time job. He swings by the shared kitchen, aiming only for a drink of water, when the sight of a lone boy eating at the dining table catches his eye.

He looks up at Junmyeon in surprise. His face looks exotic, foreign. “Annyeonghaseyo,” he softly greets in accented Korean. “Would you like to eat with me?”

Junmyeon does not know what makes him agree, but he does. Nodding, he takes an empty seat infront of the boy, who stands and brings Junmyeon a plate.

“I’m Zhang Yixing,” the boy tells him.

“I’m Kim Junmyeon.”

Zhang Yixing smiles, and Junmyeon’s eyes are drawn to the dimples that his smile whittles on his face.

“Junmian,” he says.

He’s saying it wrong, but Junmyeon finds himself not caring.

They spend the night conversing, each sharing his own story while taking bites of dinner in between. They both find themselves seemingly quenched of a thirst they didn’t know they had, and the night turns into morning before they bade each other farewell as friends.

Every night after that, the lights at the kitchen of the goshiwon remain bright until the wee hours, two voices humming in easy chatter and occasional laughter mingling with the soft noises of the city night.

Several months later, and Junmyeon finds himself leaning in towards Yixing’s lips. There were no fireworks, no dramatic music. But Junmyeon’s heart flutters in his chest as Yixing kisses him back. He doesn’t know how Yixing did it, but Junmyeon feels so much, hears so much from the way the other was kissing him.

You’re beautiful, his lips say as they explore Junmyeon’s.

Thank you, his hands say, finding their way into Junmyeon’s hair.

I love you, he says, as he takes Junmyeon in his arms, almost desperately.

I love you too, Junmyeon says back, and hopes that Yixing heard it too.

Two hours later, and Junmyeon is still standing in their apartment. He’d called in sick to work. He had a lot of sick days to use up, anyway. Sick days he’d been saving for years for that month-long cruise he and Yixing had been dreaming to get on forever.

He’s aimlessly walking through the rooms. Their apartment is ridiculously big—it was one of the first things they spent money on together as soon as they could afford it. It had been one of their vows to themselves: to live in a luxurious residence to make up for all the years that they spent in the dingy goshiwon.

Junmyeon remembers being ecstatic when they first moved in together, bursting with ideas on how to design the place. There was a large bedroom, a spacious kitchen and an airier living room. The two spare rooms became their separate studies.

Junmyeon opens the door to Yixing’s study, and his eyes are instantly drawn to the clothes on the floor. There is a lone pillow on the leather couch, a blanket hanging off of it.

This was Yixing’s bedroom now.

Junmyeon closes the door with a sigh.

He shivers. Has their home always been this cold?

He looks around him again and his breath comes out as a whimper. Like a madman, he wanders through the apartment, searching for something—anything that could make him feel.

When did he stop?

When did Yixing stop?

Junmyeon did not know. But he is sitting in the middle of everything from the past years that he’d thought to keep in a box: photographs, old broken cellphones, a pile of love letters, some stray movie tickets from various dates, scratched CDs of their favorite bands. These things were so full of them both, their love. But Junmyeon cannot reach them. He cannot reach the feelings that are embedded in each trinket.

He blinks out tears, not out of sadness but out of frustration.

He sits at the center of the pile, mourning.

Afternoon comes, and he places them all back into their box. He arranges them all with care. He owed it to them.

He stands up and pulls out a much bigger box, and starts putting his clothes in it.

“Why did you run away?” Yixing demands as he pulls back from their kiss, tears staining his cheeks. “You’ve been gone for so many days, I was so worried!”

“I—I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” Junmyeon stutters. “Y—you kept hanging around Luhan, and I know you loved each other in the past. He still loves you, you know.”

“But that doesn’t mean I love him back!”

Junmyeon shakes his head, still unconvinced. “I asked you so many times, Xing. I kept asking, but you never gave me a straight answer. You would always steer the conversation to a different thing. And last week, last week you—you were hugging and—“

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Yixing cuts him off. “I’m so sorry, Mian. I knew it was bothering you, but Luhan was going through a rough patch and I had to help him out. I didn’t want to talk about it because I knew that it upset you so much.”

Junmyeon gives him a weak punch to the chest. “You should have told me that. You should have told me, Xing.”

“I know, I know, Mian. I’m sorry I’m so bad when it comes to talking things out.”

Junmyeon snorts. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we? When things go wrong, you go mute and I disappear.”

“We can be better. Let’s promise each other this, hmm? I promise I’ll talk to you about my problems more, and promise me in return that you’ll never get tired of prodding me when I get too bad at it.”

“I promise.”

“And promise you won’t run away again, you scoundrel. What are you, twelve?”

Junmyeon giggles and slaps Yixing’s shoulder. “I promise."

Hadn’t Junmyeon tried enough?

He would call Yixing whenever he could, even when the other only gave curt answers in return. He would plan dates for them, but more often than not they would end up not going (It was always because of the same reason: their work). He would send Yixing gifts, sometimes even flowers, even when he did not receive many in return.

Looking back, Junmyeon isn’t sure if he was actually trying to save their relationship, or if he was just doing it so he can say to himself that he did something—so he could place the blame on Yixing. Did he really want to save them? If he’d really wanted that, why did it feel so tiring? Shouldn’t fighting for what you love be rewarding? Why does he just feel more and more exhausted each day?

Both of them are cowards, Junmyeon thinks. He is one for running away, and Yixing was one for always dodging the matter. But he forgives them both a little. After all, they cannot fight to keep what has not been theirs for a long time now.

He gives a last look at their shared apartment. A certain picture catches his eye. It’s their picture from five years ago, taken right after their graduation. They’d promised each other forever then, perhaps a touch impulsively as they were giddy with their success. Junmyeon gives the picture a fond smile before laying it upside down.

Maybe forever meant different for everybody. For others, perhaps it meant the rest of their lives. For some, maybe it was as short as a year, a month, a night. For Junmyeon and Yixing, it meant nine years. No, perhaps it was shorter than that. But they meant it back then. They meant it when they said they loved each other. They meant it when they swore forever. And to Junmyeon, that was enough.

He opens the door and steps out.

 “We did it, Mian. We actually did it!”

Junmyeon fervently nods and mirrors the tearful grin on his beloved’s face. They’ve been through so much, lost so much, but today they will finally start having more. From now on, they were free—and it is a mix of fear and excitement that Junmyeon is feeling in his veins right now: a future that may not be much brighter than the past but definitely more promising than the present was waiting for him and Yixing.

“Junmian,” Yixing starts. “This is really pathetic, but… can I ask you to marry me? I don’t have a ring for you yet. But I’ll start saving up for it. And then I’ll save up for our future together. We’ll have the biggest house I can afford, and we’ll never starve nor want for anything again. I promise I’ll do all of that. I’m sorry I’m being so shameless and doing this without a ring but I really—“

Junmyeon stops his words with a kiss.

Though shocked, Yixing’s hands react and they go around Junmyeon’s waist like it was second nature.

“Yes, Zhang Yixing. I will marry you. Who cares about rings? You placed a ring on my heart a long time ago.”

Yixing laughs at the cheesy words and places another fond kiss on Junmyeon’s cheeks.

They walk out of the university gates together, hand in hand.

Today their forever begins.