His bags are at the door. As Minseok paces around in the doorway, he remembers, and then forgets why he agreed to this in the first place. The lights are off inside the house, the back door is bolted shut, and his keys are clammy in his left hand, sealing his fate, and any chance of escape.

The car, he doesn’t recognize it when it pulls up to the curb. A pearl blue 83’ Civic that comes to a stop, tires the bottom of his driveway. It rattles; the driver gets out, walks around the vehicle. Minseok peeks slyly through the window, feeling like he’s intruding, even though he isn’t.

There’s a knock at the door that he doesn’t want to open.

They meet at the house’s entrance. He looks so familiar, yet so different. Grabbing his bags, Minseok studies him blatantly; red letterman jacket, pleated pants, tragic boat shoes and the wisps of a mullet hanging over his forehead. Jongdae steps forwards and throws his arms around Minseok’s neck.

“Long time no see,” he says, when they pull away. Jongdae’s grip on his shoulder is too firm, feels too genial, yet forced. Minseok reaches for his bag; it’s a simple briefcase, perched against the side of the door.

“You’re bringing something?” Jongdae asks him. “It’s one night!”

“I like to be safe,” Minseok says. “Change of clothes, and some money.”

“I forgot you were always the planning type,” Jongdae says, slapping Minseok on the back. “You were so methodical when we were growing up.”

Minseok lets himself smile at that.

“It’s been so long,” Jongdae tells him, grabbing Minseok’s wrist. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The inside of the car smells floral, like old perfume. As he sits on the passenger seat, one elbow propped onto the gap between the wall and window, Minseok admires the vehicle. It’s luxuriously built, curvy and boxy, with plush seats.

Jongdae shoves the keys into the ignition, and the car jumps. Minseok’s bag, stowed in the back somewhere, smashes up against the trunk. The vehicle grumbles to life. It’s a narrow turn from the driveway to the road, and they nearly take out a neighbour’s mailbox on the way.

“You know your way around?” Minseok asks him, as the car begins to move down the street. Jongdae’s looking at the road, staring into the distance with a focused gaze.

“Of course,” he says, a smile playing at his lips. He turns to glance at Minseok. “I drove here, after all.”

“She gave you my address? Or did you know it was here all along?”

“You’re a homebody,” Jongdae says. “I didn’t think you’d move.”

“If you knew where I lived, why didn't you come to visit?” It’s meant as a joke, but Minseok wants to take the words and shove back them down his throat as soon as they escape.

“I was busy,” Jongdae answers, not looking Minseok in the eye. “We moved downtown, and I had just gotten a promotion, and we were looking at making wedding plans.”

“You understand, don’t you?” he adds at the end. Guilt settles in Minseok’s stomach as he folds his arms across his chest.

He shouldn’t feel guilty.

He doesn’t even want to go to the wedding. The invitation is on white cardstock, embossed with pink and gold foil, lying somewhere in his desk drawer, collecting dust. Minseok doesn’t want to look at it anymore, but he can’t bring himself to throw it away.

The groom, Jongdae. The bride, his high school girlfriend, who had moved into Jongdae’s life so fast, every step pulling him further away from Minseok.

They had met once, so long ago it felt like a dream when Minseok thought about her. She was a faceless woman in his memories, pretty and plain. Jongdae brought her along with him to a restaurant once. Minseok wanted to tell her to leave, but she was too nice for him to hate her.

“I wanted to give you this,” she had said, giving Minseok a newspaper wrapped box. He remembered staring at anything but her, busying himself by stirring his soda with a straw.

There was a journal inside the box, silver jewelry and some sweets from the town gift shop. The girl’s name was on the gift tag, printed in cursive. She wasn’t important enough to remember, but Minseok liked her a little more after that, thought they might be good friends in another timeline.

There hadn’t been a time where Jongdae wasn’t chasing after someone, and it was weird to Minseok that he finally wanted permanence, but he could live with that if it was her.

In 1979, she was his age, twenty years, and Jongdae was eighteen, but the two of them were already dreaming bigger than Minseok even thought. Jongdae even had ‘their song’ saved on his Walkman, a generic pop tune about love that he played so many times Minseok remembered it without wanting to.

“I want a house, and a car,” Jongdae had told him one afternoon in the park. “And maybe we could live in the big city together, in one of those flats overlooking Manhattan. We could elope, once she finishes university. I’ll work hard for her, and we’ll have a good life.”

“You want to move away?” Minseok had asked. “That’s so far.”

“My parents think I’m stupid,” Jongdae said. “I just want to get away.” He turned to look at Minseok, a lock of hair falling across his forehead.

“You could come too, you know,” he said. “I’d like it if you were there.”

“Like neighbours?” Minseok liked the fantasy. “You think your girlfriend would be okay with me?”

“She likes you too,” Jongdae said. “She tells me she admires you.” He grabbed Minseok’s hand suddenly, and squeezed it. “I couldn’t imagine not having you with me, so you have to come.”

Minseok almost told him right there.

It was easy to think about, hard to say. Minseok loved him. They had been friends, classmates, neighbours, and there wasn’t a single time he could pinpoint, but knew he loved him more than the brotherly affection Jongdae reciprocated in the form of hugs and spoken words. To him, Jongdae was undoubtedly attractive, and Minseok’s body betrayed him more than once, his heart thumping, bones weakening, eyes scraping across Jongdae’s features; cheekbones and eyelashes; Minseok staring at Jongdae so blatantly sometimes he would turn to ask Minseok what he was looking at.

He would do anything, say anything Jongdae wanted, if only it could make him happy. And of course, they drifted apart. Minseok lost him, and he couldn’t even pick out a time when it happened. He supposed it had been his fault, too. He called lots of times, only to be greeted by the woman’s voice. He couldn’t bring himself to answer the phone afterwards, when Jongdae did pick up.

The trip itself had been Jongdae’s fiancee’s idea. He never knew how she got his number, but in the darkness of his living room, the receiver pressed against his cheek, it sounded like a good idea to him.

“I think he should have a bachelor’s party,” she had said. “I know what you mean to him too, and I think it would be good for us both to reconnect with our pasts, before we move onto the future.”

“You mean a guys night out?” Minseok asked.

“What do you think of a road trip?”

He was excited, so he said yes. Excited to see Jongdae in person after all these years.

To the man sitting beside him in the car, Minseok thought he knew everything. Not his job, the amount of money he had in his bank, or even his fiancee’s name. He remembered Jongdae’s favourite flavour of popsicle(lime), the one they would always get on their way home after school.

Minseok remembered back when he used to be Jongdae’s whole world. The man sitting beside him in the car was Jongdae, but he also wasn’t.

He hates making small talk. Small talk is for strangers, and Jongdae’s not a stranger. The distance between them is affable, and cold.

The first twenty miles are driven in silence. Minseok stares out the window. He can feel Jongdae’s gaze on the back of his neck as he pretends to be preoccupied, watching the houses on the horizon blur as the car passes them by.

“Where are we going?” he asks, when they’ve driven to a place with more trees than buildings.

“Wandering,” Jongdae replies. “You can relax, you know,” he says, staring at Minseok. “You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin. It’s just me. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

Minseok’s not even tense, but his spine unstiffens. “You don’t know where we’re going, do you?” he asks.

Jongdae pushes down the gas pedal, and the car picks up in speed, a pebble jumping off the windshield. “Isn’t that the point of a road trip?” he asks. “I just want to escape for a while.”

“If you want to escape, you must have somewhere in mind,” Minseok tells him. “Where did you think of going? You must be going somewhere.”

“Out of here,” Jongdae says. “Running away from my problems.”

They both laugh at that, a little too forced.

“Your car is nice,” Minseok says. “I suppose the problems aren’t financial?”

“We live...comfortably,” Jongdae finishes. “We have nice jobs, and we’ve gotten our house. She said we’d need to get a place before we get married, somewhere to make our own.”

“She wouldn’t say yes, unless you got a house?” Minseok chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s a tough woman then. I respect that.”

“She...was the one who actually proposed.” Jongdae keeps one hand on the wheel as the car drifts onto the freeway, picking up in speed. The other hand drums on the dashboard; Minseok remembers that habit back from their days in school, a habit that caused a fair bit of trouble with the teacher during test time. It’s like a dull blow watching it happen again, and he doesn’t know why.

“I don’t really want to talk about the wedding, actually,” Jongdae says, quietly. It’s almost a confession.

“Why not?” Minseok asks, masking his relief with fake concern.

“We came on this trip to get away from our problems right?” The corner of Jongdae’s mouth twitches. “I just want to go where the day takes me, and leave my worries behind.”

Minseok nods.

“I missed you,” Jongdae says, staring straight at him, a slow smile spreading over his face. “You would always listen to me, and I forgot how good it was having you.”

They play music to fill the silence of the car. There’s old cassettes in the storage compartment under his seat, tucked into a little basket. Minseok holds it in his lap, rifling through the tapes. There’s only one he wants; a little black cartridge marked with yellow tape.

Jongdae grins when the music crackles through the car.

“Seriously?” he asks. “We Are The Champions? Don’t you ever get tired of this song?”

Minseok fiddles with the knobs on the car’s receiver. “You remember when we used to play this song in your mom’s garage? We would do the air guitar moves and pretend we were rock stars.”

“She nearly disowned me for that!”

“She put up with a lot, didn’t she? Remember when we dug holes in the backyard pretending we were treasure-hunting pirates?”

“I got whooped that day.” Jongdae points to the lower half of his back, shifting in his seat. “It still hurts.”

“Whenever we got in trouble, we got in trouble together,” Minseok says, nodding his head. Jongdae reaches over the seat, giving him a playful shove.

“Fat chance! In eighth grade, when we pranked the principal, where were you when I got dragged to the office?!”

“Oh, god. Was that when we put silly putty on the back of his pants?” Minseok covers his hand with his sleeve. “I felt bad letting you take the blame. I went home and cried that night.”

“You better have!” Jongdae wails, a sound all too familiar to Minseok’s ears. “I was always the one getting thrown under the bus. My own mother said I was too much trouble.”

“And look how you turned out,” Minseok says, gesturing to the inside of the car. “Living a good life.” His expression flickers serious. “You have a house, a fiancee, a good job, and you’re not even thirty.”

“It's more common than you think,” Jongdae says, flushing pink. “What about you? You haven’t told me much about your life.”

“It’s not interesting, that’s why. Same things, over and over.”

“I’m interested. I want to know what you’ve been up to while I was gone.”
The words sting Minseok unexpectedly. “I still work in real estate,” he says curtly. “Same company, same house, nothing special.”

“No ladies?” Jongdae raises an eyebrow. “You’re handsome, Minseok. They must be all over you.”

“Hardly.” Minseok looks away, hiding the redness on his cheeks.

“Definitely. You just don’t know it yet.” Jongdae sounds reprimanding. “You were always oblivious. Remember when that girl liked you in grade eleven? She was head over heels, and you didn’t pay her any mind.”

“Nobody liked me in eleven,” Minseok grumbles.

“She made heart eyes every time you walked into class. And you broke her heart, without even knowing. It was Irene, I remember.”

“The girl with the headband?” Minseok does a double take. “I don’t believe it. She was too good for me. Everyone was after her.”

Jongdae clucks his tongue. “She rejected every one of them for you. My point is, maybe you should look around...find someone special.”

“I don’t need someone special,” Minseok says. “I’m good by myself.”

“You need someone to spend the rest of your life with,” Jongdae corrects. “It’s magical. Don’t you want that?”

“You promised me it would be you,” Minseok says under his breath. “Remember when we were young? We would plan our lives together, and we would be neighbours. We would be together, at every turn. And look at us. We lost touch with each other. You can’t possibly believe you can spend a lifetime with the same person by your side. ”

Jongdae looks puzzled. “You don’t believe in love because of me, Minseok? That doesn’t make any sense.”

It’s not what he wants to say, and Minseok doesn’t answer.

It begins to feel cramped inside the vehicle. They’ve been driving for a good part of the afternoon, and Minseok doesn’t protest when Jongdae stops the car, pulling over at a dusty gas station. There’s a convenience store on the side of the road; Minseok goes inside the shop and doesn’t buy anything, sauntering around the drink coolers to get the blood flowing back in his legs.

Jongdae meets him at the gas pump outside, crouched down as he pops open the cap hatch on his car. The smell of gasoline stings Minseok’s nose.

There’s pictures of his fiancee in his wallet; Minseok catches flashes of polaroids in Jongdae’s wallet, tucked behind the backs of cards, yellow and pink colors sandwiched between black leather.

They’re moving on the road not long afterwards. Minseok counts two farms they pass by, along with one deserted-looking town, and seven rest stops. There’s no end in sight, and Jongdae doesn’t seem bothered at all, humming as he drives. His jacket is off, the midday sun beating overhead as the car heads down the country roads; Jongdae’s sleeves are rolled up, and Minseok feels flips turn in his stomach as he stares at him again.

“You hungry?” he asks Minseok, who startles when Jongdae turns.

“I-” he gets out, eyes wide. His heart beats with the expectation of getting questioned, scrutinized, even. He’s ashamed, for no reason at all.

“There’s a diner ahead,” Jongdae tells him. “Want to stop? You look like you haven’t eaten all day.”

The inside of the restaurant smells like butter. They grab a table for two by the window. There’s a thin film of dust in the booth.

Minseok runs his hand across the red plastic tables. Waitresses shuffle around in teal dresses, checkered aprons around their waists, and Jongdae flags one down. One of them, a young woman with curled hair, walks over, stopping by the head of the table.

“Welcome to Sooman’s Spoon,” she says, lips stretched into a thin smile. She leans over, placing worn menus on either side of the table. “What can I get you boys?”

“A strawberry milkshake for me, thanks,” Jongdae says. The waitress takes out a paper pad from the front pocket of her apron and scribbles on the ticket, turning to Minseok.

“And you, sir?” she asks.

“A blueberry shake is fine,” Minseok says. “And some fries, please.”

“Make them large,” Jongdae cuts in. “We’ll split.”

“Alright,” the waitress says, whisking the menus off the table. “I’ll be ready with your order right away.” She bends over the table, rearranging the salt shakers; Jongdae sneaks a peek below the collar of her dress. He ogles her when she walks away towards the kitchen, the hem of her skirt scraping the back of her legs.

“She’s attractive,” Jongdae whispers across the table. He wipes the corner of his mouth, smiling in the direction of the waitress. Minseok kicks him sharply.

“You’re like a child,” he scolds, wagging a finger at Jongdae. “Someone’s going to arrest you for being a ert one day.”

“Boys will be boys,” Jongdae replies, smiling. “I can appreciate beauty.”

“You’re getting married,” Minseok reminds him, the words rolling off his tongue like acid.

“I know,” Jongdae snaps. Minseok flinches, and Jongdae mutters an apology back to him.
The waitress reappears a second later, a metal tray held high over her head. She places a bucket of steaming fries on the table, glistening with oil, and two glasses; one purple, the other pink.

She looks at Minseok weirdly, shaking her head. “Straws are at the front desk,” she says half-heartedly. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

“We won’t,” Jongdae reassures her, giving her a charming smile. There’s a bad taste in Minseok’s mouth as he watches the waitress turn to leave.

“She looks familiar,” Minseok says. Jongdae looks up from the basket of fries.

“That waitress,” Minseok repeats. “She looks familiar. I didn’t know before, but she looks...”

“Her?” Jongdae rests his chin in his hand. “I’m sure if I ever saw her before, I wouldn’t forget.”

Minseok frowns. “What would your fiancee say about this?” he says pointedly, picking up a fry to wave in Jongdae’s face. Jongdae leans forwards, bites off the fry, and they both smile.

“She’s not here,” Jongdae chews, wiggling his eyebrows. “Isn’t that the point? Today’s a day with just the two of us, Minseok.”

He leans forwards, and places his hand over Minseok’s, squeezing. Minseok’s entire hand is on fire, and he uses his free arm to stir the straw in his milkshake, ignoring the thumping in his chest.

“You’re doing it again,” Jongdae says. Minseok looks up, meeting Jongdae’s eyes, clouded with concern. “You always do that, stir your drink whenever you don’t want to tell me anything.” He tightens his grip, and Minseok’s heart pounds.

“Tell me,” Jongdae asks him, gazing into his eyes.

The bill is smudged. Minseok insists on paying, but when the waitress arrives to collect the bill, Jongdae pulls a fast one, handing the waitress a stack of bills before Minseok even has time to protest.

There’s candy mints that came with the bill; Minseok pushes those around on the table as the waitress rifles through the money.

“It’s good,” she finally says, sliding the cash into her apron pocket. Jongdae gives her a genial smile.

“Anything else I can get for you boys?” the waitress offers.

“How about a name?” Jongdae asks. “A number?”

“Irene,” the waitress spits out. A scowl passes over her brow, and she holds up a hand. “I’m not interested in anything you might offer me. I’ve seen it all, and I don’t want to go on a date with you.”

“Irene?” Minseok rolls the syllables over his tongue, whispering them under his breath. The waitress turns, walking off.

“You don’t happen to be Irene Bae?” Minseok calls after her, standing up from the table. Jongdae’s eyes widen. Stopping dead in her tracks, Irene turns, spinning around.

“Irene,” Minseok says, flashing her a smile. “Do you remember me? We were in the same class in high school.”

“Come back,” Jongdae calls after her, patting the seat beside him. Irene takes a hesitant step towards the table. Her eyes are shining, and she closes the distance quickly, sliding into the booth beside Minseok.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asks.

“Why are you here?” Jongdae fires back.

“It’s my job,” Irene says, rolling her eyes. “It’s been long, eh.” She stares at the two of them, looking up and down. “You guys look different.”

“Ten years,” Minseok says, holding up his fingers. “You haven’t aged a bit,” he says to Irene, who flushes pink.

Jongdae coughs under his breath. “It’s true,” he adds. “You look prettier than before. You shouldn’t be in a diner, working if you look like a model.”

“Never say that to me again,” Irene tells him sharply.

“You were really clever,” Minseok says gently. “Head of our class too, and I don’t know how you ended up serving drinks here.”

“Well,” Irene sighs, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “Life takes you places, right? I thought I was going to university, and turns out, I had to stay behind to take care of my sister.”

“I’m sorry,” Minseok starts, and Irene shushes him.

“Don’t be. The tips are good, and it’s better than working at the truck stop.” Irene smiles to herself, shaking her head. “After all these years, I guess you two still haven’t changed.”

“What do you mean?” Jongdae asks.

“I mean, you two were inseparable, and after all these years, you’re still friends.”

Silence hangs over the table, and Minsoek and Jongdae glance at each other.

“We’re actually,” Jongdae says, rubbing the back of his neck, “meeting for the first time in a quite a while.”
Minseok nods. “I haven’t seen him for just as long as you haven’t,” he tells Irene, laughing nervously. “We’re only meeting because Jongdae here is going to get married soon.”

He looks at Jongdae, who tears his gaze away, almost guilty. Irene’s surprised, a hand over her heart as she congratulates him.

“So soon?” she asks. “I-I’m happy for you, then.”

“Thank you,” Jongdae says.

Irene chuckles. “I just can’t believe you’re already engaged, but I haven’t even been on a date in five years. People turn out differently, don’t they?”

“I suppose,” Minseok replies, still gazing at Jongdae. He doesn’t look back.

“I have to get back to work,” Irene says, standing up from her seat. “Let’s keep in touch, eh,” she says, patting Minseok’s shoulder. He turns, and Irene tucks something into his pocket, giving him a wink.

There’s an endless expanse of road ahead of them, an equally long stretch of black cutting into the countryside as the car flies forwards. Minseok has an unfurled napkin in his lap, a string of numbers written in blue ink across the top, and a messily drawn heart to accompany it.

“Are you gonna call her?” Jongdae asks him. He’s leaned back in his seat, foot lazily pressing down on the pedal, unconcerned with driving as the car barrels down a straight stretch of the highway. “I can’t believe she’s still into you after all this time.”

“I’m not interested,” Minseok answers. Jongdae sighs, defeated and leans over. He socks Minseok in the shoulder playfully.

“We could trade women if you wanted.”

“Don’t say those things, Jongdae,” Minseok warns him.

He has a camera in the car, a small, boxy Polaroid with a white frame that’s faded to dingy yellow. Jongdae stops the car, pulling over in the middle of nowhere. There’s a small cluster of trees on the side of the road, endless fields flanking the highway in between. The horizon is blurred into the blue sky.

They both get out of the car, Minseok’s shoes scraping against gravel as he jumps onto the pavement. The fringes of Jongdae’s hair blow in the wind as he turns around, raising the camera to his eye.

“Why are we stopping here?” Minseok asks, slinging his hands into his pockets. Jongdae ignores him, snapping a picture of the trees. The camera whirrs.

“Making memories.”

“If all you wanted to do was take pictures of trees, we could’ve just gone into my backyard.”
“That’s not the point,” Jongdae says, pointing the camera lens at Minseok. “Smile,” he says.

Minseok strikes a pose ironically, sweeping his hair with his hand in a dramatic flourish.

“Perfect,” Jongdae says. “Very handsome.” Minseok returns the favour, taking one of Jongdae winking in front of a grove of trees, hair windswept, a youthful glint in his eye. He looks breathtaking in the still, and when the polaroid pops out, Minseok wants to take it and keep it with him forever.

They take a hike, at Minseok’s suggestion. There’s a little ravine concealed behind the trees; it’s not dense with vegetation, but it’s steep, and the dirt footholds are slippery. Minseok goes down first, sidestepping leaves and pebbles, the ground crunching beneath his shoes. He stops on a flat plane of ground, standing in the shadow of a bush.

Jongdae follows him into the clearing, albeit hesitantly, taking two steps for every one of Minseok’s. His pant leg catches on a nearby thorn and he lets out a cry, before Minseok grabs him, steadying him back up.

“Careful,” he says, taking Jongdae’s hand. They walk down the rest of the route together, narrowly squeezing past all the trees.

There’s the sound of chirping birds, rustling plants, overlaid with the babbling of a nearby spring. Minseok pulls Jongdae, the two of them making their way to level ground. At the bottom of the path, there’s a pond, flanked by a line of rocks. The surface of the water is mirror smooth, reflecting the sunlight back into the sky.

They both take a slow, long look.

He’s in the water, kicking his legs to keep the top of his head barely afloat. All his clothes are thrown somewhere, collected in a pile on the top of a boulder, guarded by Jongdae as he sits on a nearby rock, laughing at Minseok as he splashes around in the pond.

“You’re crazy for swimming in this,” Jongdae tells him, smirking. “It’s in the middle of nowhere. In the wilderness!”

“It’s clean, though.” Minseok cups a handful of water in his palm, swimming to the edge of the pond to show Jongdae. “Look at this stuff. This is where they get bottled water from, you posh brat!”

“Maybe I’m not a redneck like you,” Jongdae says, sticking out his tongue. Minseok rolls his eyes, laughing.

“It’s no dirtier than the middle school pool,” he says. “Remember that thing? That was disgusting!”

Jongdae sighs, a nostalgic look in his eyes. “I do! Junmyeon, one of the seventh graders puked in it once, and they still let the swim team practice in that water!”

Minseok gasps. “I was on the swim team, Jongdae! Why didn’t you tell me!”

“You were a germaphobe back then...and I didn’t want to worry you…”

“I swam in vomit,” Minseok says, shuddering.

“And now you’re swimming in this, which isn’t any better,” Jongdae tells him. “There could be amoebas in there! The pesky brain eating ones!”

Minseok splashes him. “Come in,” he says, beckoning to Jongdae. “You’ll be safe from the amoebas. They’ll starve to death in your head.”

“I’ll punch you,” Jongdae threatens, kicking off his boat shoes, and stuffing his socks inside. He dips his bare foot into the water, and pulls it back out, complaining of the cold. Minseok frowns, trying to hide a laugh.

“It’s freezing,” Jongdae whines, as he pulls his shirt over his head. His pants come off next, and he stands on the rock in his boxers. “I’ll die from hypothermia.”

“Grow a pair,” Minseok says, blowing a strand of wet hair off his forehead. He looks upwards, and then away, flushing bright red as Jongdae strips off the last article of clothing. The boxers land on the ground in a discarded heap of clothes, and Jongdae sits down on the rock, thankfully, legs crossed.

“You’re embarrassed,” he says to Minseok, studying his pinkened cheeks. “Don’t be. We’re both men after all.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” Minseok says, willing himself to keep his gaze above the waist. There’s a tingling feeling in his gut, and he’s horrified.

“Wanna compare?” Jongdae says jokingly. Minseok’s face turns several shades darker at that, and he averts his eyes, pointing at the water instead to command Jongdae to get in. Jongdae beckons him back, arms stretched out like a young child.

“I can’t stand you anymore,” Minseok cries, as he swims over. Jongdae’s hand feels cold in his, and he pulls him into the pond swiftly, water splashing. For a second, he’s laughing, followed by immense panic when Jongdae doesn’t surface, blubbering below the surface of the water.

“Jongdae?” Minseok says, looking around frantically. Their hands still clasped, he pulls upwards, relief flooding through his veins when Jongdae’s head breaks the water’s surface, coughing and sputtering.

“I can’t swim,” Jongdae chokes out, water streaming from his nose. His breath is shaky as he rubs his face dry, and Minseok can’t help but erupt into a chorus of giggles.

“It’s not really funny,” Jongdae says, the good-natured grin on his face giving him away. Water rolls down his chin, and he flicks it off his skin. Minseok swims closer, seizing the crook of Jongdae’s elbows to hold him upright.

“Don’t worry,” Minseok says. “I have you.”

They’re so close together, their noses practically touch. Jongdae blinks, water beading on his eyelashes.

“It’s okay,” Minseok reassures him. “Try to swim,” he says. “I won’t let you drown.”

Jongdae moves forwards, and their legs brush against each other. A shudder runs down Minseok’s spine, and Jongdae whimpers. He kicks again, skin touching skin, and they both bite back moans.

Neither of them look at each other again, for the rest of the swim.

They’re sitting in the car. It’s afternoon but it’s sunny, and Jongdae’s up on the dashboard, the heels of his shoes crossed against each other, his purple pants bunching at his knees. Minseok sits beside him, slouching in the passenger seat, admiring the blues of the sky. They’re both damp, festering in their slightly wet clothes.

Minseok’s not sure if he should apologize or not. They’ve been sitting there for at least half an hour; Jongdae doesn’t look angry.

Hesitating, Minseok taps him on the shoulder, a sorry already forming at his lips when Jongdae turns. Jongdae’s eyes are soft, shining, wet like rain when he looks at Minseok.

“Hey,” he says. Minseok smiles, his whole body shaking slightly when Jongdae moves his face closer, and yet closer; delicate cheekbones, long lashes coming into full view before him.

The first kiss is soft. Jongdae’s mouth feels sturdy under his, but Minseok’s worried he might melt when Jongdae leans in closer, threading his hands through Minseok’s hair. They’re both breathless when they pull away, Minseok panting in shock, Jongdae smiling slightly, almost shyly.

“You don’t know how ing long I‘ve been waiting for this,” he says, looking at Minseok sheepishly, waiting for a reaction.

Minseok kisses him so hard, the back of Jongdae’s head slams against the car window.

There’s no better time to makeout than during the sunset. The back of the car is cramped, but Minseok doesn’t mind. He only wants to be close to Jongdae, and it gives him an excuse, the both of them pressed against each other, limbs folded against the walls. The backseat smells like cologne and flowers, and there’s trash strewn on the floor behind the seat that both of them ignore.

They kiss until both of their lips are pink, swollen and rosy from affection. Jongdae’s on top of Minseok, and Minseok can’t tell if he’s breathless because of the beauty crushing him into the car seat, or if he just can’t breathe.

“You taste sweet,” Jongdae whispers, and Minseok’s sure Jongdae can hear his heartbeat thrum through his thin shirt. He reaches up, tucking a lock of Jongdae’s hair behind his ear, and he’s pleased that Jongdae blushes equally as hard.

“It’s like a sugar rush,” Jongdae says, pressing his lips to Minseok’s neck. “You really are sweet…”

Minseok’s heart is full, beating wildly when Jongdae rests his chin on top of Minseok’s chest, batting his eyes playfully. They kiss each other breathless; Minseok can smell Jongdae’s laundry detergent as he grabs hold of Jongdae’s shirt, pulling him closer. His senses move at the smallest body movements, he’s drowning in his own feelings.

“I’ve waited for these...fantasies, everyday,” Jongdae tells him, whispering his confession in the space between their lips. Minseok takes his hand, bringing it up to his mouth, kissing Jongdae’s knuckles. Soft lips touch rough skin, and Jongdae’s breath hitches.

“It comes so naturally,” Minseok says quietly, caressing Jongdae’s face. “Being here with you.” He slides his fingers across Jongdae’s cheekbone, smiling when Jongdae’s nose scrunches up at the action.

“Is this a dream?” Minseok asks. “I can’t wake up from this.” They both giggle, the sound of laughter reverberating off the walls of the car. Their next kiss is soft; Jongdae’s mouth feels delicate under his.

Minseok doesn’t protest when both their shirts come off. The air is cold as it hits his skin, but it’s unbearably hot inside the car in every sense of the word. He can’t stop staring, eyes raking over Jongdae’s physique almost lecherously, drinking up every sight like it’s the last thing he’ll ever see.

“You like what you’re staring at?” Jongdae asks him, cocking an eyebrow. Minseok leans upwards, kissing the pitiful smirk off his lips.

It ades him that he has a fiancee, but Minseok doesn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt. It’s what he wants; the only thing he’s ever asked for, landing straight into his arms. The look in Jongdae’s eyes doesn’t fail to make him shiver, and his skin is set on fire with every touch, every shared secret manifesting inside the car.

They make out like teenagers, drunk on love. They’re not in a romantic place, there’s clothes on the dirty ground, which is utterly disgusting, but to Minseok, it’s all beautiful.

His pants are off, and Jongdae has one leg thrown in between his. It’s like a splash of cold water when Jongdae stops kissing him, jolting upwards abruptly. Minseok feels exposed, brazenly spread across the car seat, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and the redness of his face as Jongdae pants, eyes wide with terror.

Jongdae picks up his shirt wordlessly, dressing himself as fast as he can. Minseok gets up, his arms shaking as he supports himself on his elbows.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern. His stomach plummets when Jongdae tosses him his clothes, the smile wiped from his face as he reaches for the car door. Minseok catches his wrist, pulling Jongdae back onto his lap. He yelps as he tumbles backwards.

“Jongdae?!” Minseok asks him, worried. “Are you okay?”

“I-” Jongdae breaks free from his grasp, and Minseok lets him go. He’s frozen stiff, left to watch idly as Jongdae leaves the car, marching outside. He hears the skittering of a rock on the pavement; Jongdae stamping his foot on the ground, swearing.

Minseok dresses quicker than he’s ever had to in his life. He catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the car’s window, eyes wild, hair disheveled, and lips bright pink. It doesn’t take much effort to walk outside, but the sinking in his gut is hard to quell, and he feels sick already.

It’s evening, catching the tails of night, the sky painting the whole world a color of deep blue. Jongdae is outside, seated on the car’s hood. Minseok joins him, vaulting himself up from the ground. They’re physically close, yet the distance between the two of them might amount to a whole world.

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae mumbles. His knees are tucked against his chest, and he rocks back and forth slowly. Minseok touches him on the shoulder gently, and his heart stops when Jongdae brushes him off, his stare lukewarm.

It’s like digging a knife into an old wound.

“What did I do wrong?” Minseok asks him, pleading. “Jongdae, I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Jongdae says. The look in his eyes is searing, and Minseok feels locked in place.

“Any of that,” Jongdae continues, “it’s my impulses talking, and I’m sorry.”

Minseok wants to cry.

“I’m not gonna be able to make you forgive me, am I?” Jongdae says, forcing out a laugh. He shakes his head, and sniffles. “Forget everything that happened, then. It’ll do both of us some good.”

“You don’t mean it,” Minseok says, his voice hoarse. “For ’s sake,” he says, raising his voice, “you don’t do that to someone. You could at least look...at me...” Minseok pauses, and he’s not sure what he wants to say anymore. He wants to cuss Jongdae out, but he’s scared if he opens his mouth anymore, he might start blubbering like a child. He’s not sure who he’s angry at; himself, or Jongdae, or the universe, but it’s a miserable feeling.

“It’s stupid,” Jongdae says, placing his head in his hands. “I’m a disappointment, aren’t I?” He looks up at the sky. “I can’t do anything right for myself.”

“I don’t understand,” Minseok spits out, with more spite in his voice than he would like. “Just say it. Am I not good enough for you? Do I disgust you because I kissed you and I enjoyed it? Do you regret this trip, Jongdae? Do you wish you never talked to me at all, and never listened to your fiancee?”

Jongdae flinches. “You know that’s not what I think...”

“Then tell me!” Minseok bites his lip, water pooling in the corners in the corners of his eyes. His breath is quavering, and he pulls himself together, putting on a still face. “You owe me this, Jongdae. Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

“Why would you even say that?!” Jongdae says. “We were just fooling around.”

“You think your fiancee cares if you’re just fooling around?” Minseok seethes. Jongdae shifts, burying his head in the crook of his knees, eyes boring holes into Minseok.

“Don’t talk about her. She has nothing to do with this.”

Minseok laughs bitterly. “You think she has nothing to do with this? You’re getting married soon, and you’re going behind her back!”

“It’s my last chance to escape.”

“You make it sound like a prison,” Minseok says, incredulously.

“Is it not?” Jongdae asks angrily. “I’m giving up the rest of my life for her, of course I’m ing scared!”

“Don’t you want to marry her?” Minseok says. “You’ve been together for almost a decade, and you’re happy…”

“I-I’m not ready to. I’m not gonna be enough for her, I know it.”

Minseok’s heart shatters into a million pieces when Jongdae starts crying. His face is bathed in the light of the moon, tears shining as they drip down his cheeks; Jongdae scoots towards him, resting his head on Minseok’s shoulder.

Minseok gives him as long as it takes, for the crying to stop. He doesn’t mind that his shoulder is wet and dampened with snot; he does a good job of ignoring the dampness in his own eyes as well.

“You shouldn’t marry her if she doesn’t make you feel worthy.”

“She does. I love her.”

Minseok swallows. “Then, what do you have to regret?”

He can see Jongdae smiling in the dark. It’s a sad, pained look.

“You’re the one I don’t deserve, Minseok,” Jongdae whispers, tracing a pattern on Minseok’s shoulder. Goosebumps prickle on his skin, and Minseok looks away, swallowing hard.

“You don’t deserve to have been friends with me,” Jongdae says again, his breath soft. “You wasted your whole childhood with me, and all you got was a scoundrel friend who’s too scared to tell you anything, who’s a ing coward too.”

“I love you,” Minseok says, choking the words out. A tear falls onto his lap, a dark spot spreading over his pants.

“Come to the wedding then,” Jongdae pleads. “You know I can’t get married without you.”

Minseok turns away, wiping his face with his sleeve.

He hops off the car, and starts walking. He doesn’t turn when Jongdae calls his name, doesn’t flinch when he’s yanked backwards, Jongdae‘s grip digging into his arm so roughly he’s sure it’s going to leave marks the next day. Minseok is strong enough to shake off the grasp, but he doesn’t.

“I shouldn’t have given up you for her,” he hears Jongdae say.

“Did you mean anything today?” Minseok asks him. “Or was that all fooling around too?”

“The kissing,” Jongdae whispers, looking away. ‘You deserve to hate me, but at least let me take you home.” He tugs on Minseok’s sleeve. Jongdae’s eyes are puffy, and he sniffles weakly.

Minseok turns. His movements are all automatic, every step closing the distance between the two of them before he even knows what he’s doing.

Jongdae’s mouth tastes salty, with tears. What he says isn’t enough, it’ll never be, but Minseok’s okay. He’s kissing the man who he shared his whole childhood with, and it feels like a farewell.

It takes the whole night to drive back to the city. The stars are beautiful, but Minseok isn’t paying attention. Jongdae insists on walking him up the steps of his house. He cries as soon as the front door closes.

Minseok never goes to the wedding; he can’t bring himself to. Irene does. They become tentative friends, and his life is a little less lonely. She’s funny, smart, beautiful and tough, but she’s not the one for him. She wears a blue dress when she meets him at the diner, and tells him how beautiful the bride looked, how over the moon Jongdae was on his wedding day.

Minseok makes himself feel happy for the two of them.

“He was asking why you didn’t come,” Irene says to him. “He was anxious the whole wedding, because he thought you were coming as my date.”

“I was sick,” Minseok lies.

There’s an alternate timeline in his mind, a story that’s happy from start to finish, a story that never ends, where he gets his own happily ever after. Another life where Jongdae’s not the one that got away. One where he has to go to the wedding, because he’s the one getting married.

“He’s coming next week,” Irene says, sliding an address card across the table. It picks up a crumb, and Minseok examines the neat script on the card.

“I might be busy that day,” he says.

“You can’t live like this forever. He really wants to see you in person, because he thinks it’d be good to keep in touch, unlike last time. I’ll come, if it makes you feel better,” Irene offers.

It’s raining outside, the thrum of the raindrops beating down against the window.

“It’s just him,” Irene adds. “His wife won’t be there. He wants to talk to you about something. He’s bringing his car too, maybe you guys can have a road trip again.”

There’s a dull ache in Minseok’s heart.