A disconnect. That’s how Junmyeon always thought about it, like he was in his own little world trapped behind a glass wall that got thicker and thicker as he grew older. In childhood he really didn’t have the capacity to care. He had his parents, his grandparents, his rabbit, Jongdae, Batman, school, and a budding fascination with stage performance. In hindsight he realized that maybe there were a lot of times when people were making fun of him or didn’t include him in on conversations because they figured he just wouldn’t “get it.” Jongdae’s other friends weren’t cruel to him but he definitely wasn’t one of them . Whatever that meant.  

So by the time middle school rolled around, it made perfect sense to him that maybe he was an alien and someday the sky would open up to a ship filled with a bunch of Junmyeons of all different sizes. Maybe his skin was secretly green. Maybe this was all an elaborate disguise. He’d told Jongdae that once. “ There’s nothing wrong with being an alien if you like it here, ” he’d said like Junmyeon hadn’t just gone off on a rather unusual tangent over an untouched lunch tray. But Jongdae was right. He did like it here.

That disconnect became more obvious as time went on though. In a joking way, he liked to say he valued consistency. Even Jongdae said he really hadn’t changed much over the years. He had relatives in Gwangju on his mother’s side who he would see maybe once every two or three years. Amongst them was his cousin Dongkyu who was a year older than him. The few times he remembered meeting Dongkyu they got along really well. After that he became more of a spectacle to his cousin as preteens.

By the time he was sixteen, Dongkyu didn’t want to talk to him about Batman anymore. He most certainly didn’t want to talk about ballet. Dongkyu didn’t like how any conversation with him would inevitably circle back around to one of those two things anyway. He found Junmyeon’s rabbit boring. His family reportedly had a dog. So Junmyeon would spend his time watching Robin hop around the backyard while Dongkyu monopolized the living room with whichever game console he had at the time. They hardly spoke to each other. That was the last time they’d met until the funeral. Dongkyu came with his wife and two kids. There wasn’t much Junmyeon clearly remembered about that day though. He didn’t even remember if he spoke to the man. 

It’s not like Junmyeon behaved like a child but people who knew him growing up had a tendency to treat him like he did when it came to anything that wasn’t his clear area of expertise. They’d loved him at Dopyeong Playhouse, even found him mature in his work ethic, organizational skills, and eagerness to learn new things. On top of that they thought he was a handsome young man, lamenting that his oddities would seemingly keep him from acting out the life script people like Dongkyu would achieve with ease, this script that hinged on finding a type of love that Junmyeon still didn't quite understand. But it’s only once Jongdae started heading down that path too that Junmyeon ever had the acute feeling that he was being left behind, that the world he’d known and liked so much was just for kids. 

That glass wall grew thicker and colder on the crowded college campuses of Seoul. He still enjoyed catching up with Jongdae each time his friend accompanied him to the duck pond near his dorm, the place he favored over any bar or nightclub that his roommate that year snuck off to more often than not. Jongdae didn’t say he thought his fondness for the duck pond was weird but that’s also when Jongdae began to look at him differently… just slightly. His friend probably didn’t think he noticed. But that duck pond was where he’d listened to Jongdae grapple with the budding feelings he had for a sharp international student in his economics class that semester, Li Yin, his cheeks cherry red while sitting on the bench looking out over frozen water.

“You should ask to study with her,” Junmyeon had suggested.

“Yeah… yeah, maybe I should,” Jongdae responded, mittened hands rubbing together in the cold. That’s when Junmyeon decided to buy him leather gloves, the type he’d seen male leads wear in romance dramas.

The two of them had enlisted at the same time but were in different units on different bases. Nonetheless it had been a complex combination of things that had made Junmyeon go from a focused and content university freshman to what Baekhyun had helped him understand was his first recognizable experience with anxiety. He had been afraid to keep in contact with Jongdae at that time, afraid to even mention him. He didn’t want the rumors from home to follow him there. That would be disastrous. 

Just like at school or even with Dongkyu, it’s not like people were being mean to him in the army, he just didn’t quite know how to talk to them and they didn’t quite know how to talk to him. It was during those years that Li Yin, through countless exchanged handwritten letters, became Jongdae’s special person. And Junmyeon saw how much Jongdae loved her, knew he never wasted time on people he wasn’t willing to open his whole heart to and do right by. Finally meeting Li Yin had been an interesting occasion. No one had ever seemed so determined to impress Junmyeon of all people.

But that disconnect, that thick glass, didn’t seem to exist with Yixing. Or maybe it did and it just wasn’t obvious yet. Maybe it was more like a curtain that you could stick your hand through at any time. Maybe it was more like a trap door. Maybe it was more like standing on a cliff. It was the feeling that nothing was stopping him, nothing holding him back, except his own mind telling him to yield. Because the almost natural comfort he often felt around Yixing was so similar to Jongdae. Junmyeon didn’t even know it was possible to have a second Jongdae. Surely if that were possible, it wouldn’t have taken over thirty years to happen. It was best to keep the curtain in place.

***

“Woah! It looks so different back here!” Yixing said looking at the outside of the newly improved backyard shed. 

Junmyeon flashed his awkward smile and shrugged, eyes somewhat avoiding Yixing as he made his way closer. It was impossible to not hear Yixing’s shoddy car coming up the road but Junmyeon still only had enough time to put down his tools and dust himself off a bit before Yixing came circling around from the front of the house. It was the second Saturday of April and Junmyeon had spent the last two weeks entrenched in DIY home improvement to varying amounts of success. The shed was definitely the highlight of his recent achievements even if it was still only lit with dirty old clip lights.

“You’re the first one to see it,” he said, gesturing for Yixing to come inside and look more properly. “My dad used to do all sorts of projects here when he wasn’t busy with the store. It’s been a long time since he used it for more than storage though.”

“And what on earth is this?” Yixing asked, hands running curiously over the handles of the bike he’d been working on before getting distracted by old memories of duck ponds.

“It’s a Tomos moped… basically a bicycle with a small motor. My dad had a phase for a few years where he was interested in this sort of thing but this model was the only one he could justify buying since it was useful for small errands and relatively cheap. I’ve been fixing it up with the help of too many online videos,” he said a bit quietly, not wanting to exaggerate his skillset.

Yixing continued to look over it, brushing back his now natural black hair out of his face as he did so. It had been getting longer ever since he’d been cleared to dance again no doubt skipping any sort of appointment with the barber in favor of getting more practice in. He seemed to match the bike far more than Junmyeon did looking a bit like a rockstar adorning a black denim jacket he’d never seen him wear before. Junmyeon looked down a bit self-consciously at his dirty jeans and wrinkled pink polo. Yixing was a beautiful man even though he seemed oblivious to it. Not like Junmyeon would be the one to tell him.

“I should take you to Chanyeol’s garage someday. He’d love to see this and has been asking me to bring you around for months.”

“Months?” he asked, a bit surprised. “Why?” Yixing shrugged and finished circling around the bike. 

“He’s happy I made a friend like you and wants to reward you with free dinner for making me less gloomy. And by dinner I mean delivery of Korea’s take on Chinese food.” 

It had never crossed Junmyeon’s mind that Yixing would bother to mention him to other people. It did make him feel good though. Really good. And a little embarrassed. But in all the words he’d think to use to describe Yixing, gloomy certainly wasn’t one of them. Yixing always seemed perky but also thoughtful and sometimes meditative if the topic was more serious like dance. Yixing hadn’t treated him or acted any differently after the ambulance incident. If others in the neighborhood had been relaying his business, it either didn’t bother him or he was too polite to mention it. 

“Oh!” Yixing suddenly said once he was no longer distracted fiddling with the pedals. “I have the chicken and cola out front in the car as promised. If you open the front door I’ll bring it right in.” 

It was early evening and Yixing was finally taking a night off from dancing. Junmyeon had been excited to hear that Yixing wanted to spend the free evening with him. They ended up setting things up in the living room around the coffee table with the 1989 Batman VHS playing on the old TV. Yixing stubbornly accepted a bag of ice when admitting his motivation for taking a night off had been a growing discomfort in his waist again. 

“You should think about seeing the doctor just to make sure nothing’s wrong,” Junmyeon brought up hesitantly after their eyes had been focused on the film for a little while. He knew by now that this was a touchy subject. “These types of injuries don’t just go away. It’s something you’ll have to properly manage for the rest of your career.” 

“I can’t go in for every little thing,” Yixing dismissed lightly, stretching his arms and then gracefully lowering them down as if getting in position to begin a dance number. “In fact, I feel better already.”

“Yixing!” Junmyeon shouted, but the dancer had already lept from the couch, abandoning the bag of ice, and spun in the middle of the room before gesturing for Junmyeon to pull back the coffee table. “I’m not sure if I’m more worried you’re going to break yourself of my furniture,” he said but it was already as if Yixing didn’t hear him anymore. 

Junmyeon had seen Yixing dance several times. There were no fewer than two dozen videos of him in the studio where he’d been practicing independently. Recently all the videos had been of him learning his audition piece but prior to that he danced to parts of choreography he remembered from past shows or simply did freestyle movements. What Yixing did now was the most reminiscent of those, his legs bending, back arching, and arms swaying to the beat of whatever type of music was playing in his mind. He would extend in all directions but always come back to the same point on the burnt orange carpet almost like Junmyeon had spiked it himself. 

However soon the feeling of his movements changed to something far more familiar. It began as small, almost playful steps and motions until he fell back into a very clear first position, then second, all the way through fifth, and back to first.

“A part in La Bayadère goes something like this, right?” Yixing asked before moving back all the way to the window and circling around the room in a series of mini leaps that Junmyeon could nonetheless tell where he was copying from. It wasn’t perfect, but it was also far from something any average person could pick up just by watching perhaps once long ago. 

“Are you sure you’ve never done ballet?” Junmyeon asked. “To my eyes all of your movements are very… exact. Or have I been underestimating the training of modern dance?” Yixing beamed at him.

“I am honored to meet your approval. But… you are right. Ballet was the first type of dance I ever formally learned.” 

Junmyeon wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He still remembered fondly the day he had his first lengthy conversation with Yixing where the younger went into eccentric detail about his life story as a dancer. Ballet hadn’t been mentioned at all. 

“You’re not mistaken,” Yixing said when his confusion must have been clear, cycling through each of the five positions again before walking back to the couch. There was uncertainty on his face for a moment. Or maybe it was just nerves. Maybe that’s just how his face looked when he was catching his breath even though he didn’t look like he’d exerted himself much at all considering all the jumping around he’d been doing.  “I lied to you before. But not just to you. I lie to a lot of people. Weird, right?”

“I won’t press if you don’t want me to,” Junmyeon said quickly even though Yixing’s words confused him. He’d surely never shown any dislike for ballet although it was possible he just thought that would be rude on account of Junmyeon’s longtime fascination with the art form. Yixing only put back on his usual smile and leaned back into the cushions.

“I can guarantee you it’s not what you’re thinking. On the contrary, ballet plays a starring role in my most beautiful and cherished memories,” he said.

By now Junmyeon was used to this manner in which Yixing spoke, like the words on their own were a type of dance or performance. Even the most mundane retelling of tales like whatever happened on the mailroute that day were set up like this. It was just as thrilling as it was relaxing. And here Yixing was doing it all in not even his native tongue. 

“My first class was when I was six years old which, even in Changsha, could be considered late. My parents signed me up because I wouldn’t stop dancing all over the apartment and this kid, Sicheng, lived directly below us whose grandparents said he’d been taking ballet lessons for a little over a year at that point. At first we were in separate groups at the studio but I would show him everything I learned each class and he’d teach me more once we got home. Eight months in, I was moved to his class.” Yixing could probably read Junmyeon’s mind when he said that given the amount of times he’d nagged the younger about taking care of his body, about not over practicing. But that was simply the reality for people like Yixing and for everyone at the Seoul Ballet Theatre whether Junmyeon liked to admit it or not.  

“So things were like that for years. And what I told you before was true. I did dance seven days a week whether that be the classes we had or just dancing at home or dancing with him at school on the playground. He didn’t think of anything else. Never studied and that got him in trouble with his grandfather a lot. Once I even cried begging him to copy my homework so he wouldn’t get another late mark. And the competitions I told you about before? Those were all ballet competitions, not jazz. I’d enter with him but he’d outshine me every time. I wasn’t jealous though. By then I’d already discovered things like jazz, modern, and hip-hop. I was even dabbling in more traditional forms of dance. I was really drawn to anything. But he was bored by that, especially hip-hop. I think if you asked him, he’d probably say hip-hop dance was blasphemous.

“I might not look like it, but I’m a very clingy person. Sicheng always said I was like a koala. So when we started dating, no one noticed any difference.”

Yixing’s words hung there for a moment, like if Junmyeon for some reason wanted to take that moment to run away or to ask Yixing to leave, he would be able to. But all he did was stare in shock, his heart racing at the sudden giving of information. Neither of them ever addressed specifically what Yixing had been told by his older neighbors but Junmyeon never would’ve guessed that Yixing also had a history they would condemn.  

“But it’s not like we knew what we were doing anyway,” Yixing continued like nothing had happened. “We were hanging out in his room when we were thirteen and he kissed me then immediately started crying and apologizing. It was funny… but it was also beautiful. Did I mention Sicheng was beautiful? Or at least I thought so.

“The bullying started around a year later because I guess the other boys thought wearing tights and twirling around was weird. It wasn’t too bad though. We’d come up with all these ways to outsmart them. It was almost like a game. That’s also the year I started taking fewer ballet classes in order to start with jazz but it all happened in the same building, just at different times. He would wait for my class to end after his and we’d go to this burger place on the way home. Those were most of our dates. We loved dance too much to consistently invest in much else.

“When we were seventeen, it’s right around the corner from there where we were mugged. There was an alleyway with dumpsters obscuring most of the front so after the first maybe ten seconds when we were dragged back there, no one could see what was happening just by walking down the street. They weren’t kids that went to our school. I don’t even think they were students. But they called us faggots so… I assume at some point they’d seen something. Either that or they just assumed… boys in tights, you know?

“We knew we were out of our depth so we cooperated. But after they took our stuff, they grabbed me again. That’s when Sicheng started to fight them. I don’t think anyone meant for it to get so out of hand but when the gun went off, they ran and… Sicheng was gone by the time the ambulance got to us. That’s when I stopped ballet. That video of the dancer from your company… Joohyun? That was the first time since then that I’d even looked at ballet. When you told me where you used to work I… I can’t explain how I felt. It was definitely a shock to my system.” Junmyeon was frozen where he sat as Yixing’s gaze was directed elsewhere with the natural tilt of his neck back against the couch. 

“I… I’m so sorry, Yixing. If I had known-” 

“Don’t apologize,” Yixing waved off, now looking at Junmyeon directly. “It’s exactly what I needed. Like I said, Sicheng and dancing with him are my most beautiful and cherished memories, one that in this world only Chanyeol knows of because aside from being a mechanic by day and a sculptor by night, he is also unapologetically gay.” 

“Oh? Are you dating?” 

Junmyeon was not expecting the volume of the full bodied laughter that erupted from Yixing as a response. He laughed so hard he was almost wheezing and only calmed down after taking a big sip of his soda that by this point was mostly just flavored water now that all the ice had melted.

“No! That would be quite a sight though. I’ll tell him you said that. But after all that I guess it sounds silly of me to say I’m not really the dating type? Sicheng was one in a billion. I’m… how do I say this… I would have been just as happy and cherished my time with him just as much even if we had never kissed that day.” Yixing seemed to consider his next words very carefully. 

“Intimacy was a point of contention for us. At one point he thought that he had wrongfully pressured me into what our relationship had evolved into. For him, a more mature type of intimacy was natural, like a fire within him. For me it was like a whole new language I had to learn just by copying, just by trying to guess what was right. I gladly did it for him because even now… if I look at the greatest possible depth of feeling I could have for another, Sicheng was it. But if Sicheng weren’t interested in , if he weren’t interested in kissing, the depth of my feelings for him would not diminish. I would still want to be by his side, I would still want to face the world with him, and I would still be his koala that he couldn’t get rid of. He would be my person equally in my mind no matter if he called me his friend or his boyfriend. My satisfaction would have been the same, my despair when losing him also the same. Sicheng was like a miracle in my life. My definition of love might be lacking in the minds of others, but it was a real and powerful and malleable love. If lightning were to strike twice, and I mean this in the kindest way possible, it would definitely not be my dear friend Chanyeol,” he finished with a laugh somehow looking more relaxed than he had been before. Maybe it’s because his words came out the way he wanted them to. 

“I… I think I get what you mean?” Junmyeon said, hands clasped together in an effort to control his nerves. “He was your special person, right? That’s the words I used in high school. I said Jongdae was my special person. He’s still my special person, in a way. I wish I could’ve been what he needed… what he wanted… but he also represents my greatest depth of feeling. And he’s a miracle in my life! I… owe him my life, actually. But I’ve always been bad with touch. My head is all wrong. I didn’t want you to think I was a freak but I also know how some people around here talk about me. I’m not sure if hearing it directly from me will make how you think of me better or worse.”

“Body language is half my job, Junmyeon. I could tell you valued your personal bubble after the first few times we talked. That and when I dropped off those flowers for you, Jongdae threatened to break my legs if I ever literally laid a finger on you. That was pretty much confirmation my hunch had been correct!” he said almost cutely.

“You spoke to Jongdae?” Yixing nodded and took another sip of his drink. 

“He cares about you a great deal.”

“I know… but well, when people touch me it’s like my brain doesn’t know how to process the information. Like with my mother… I know it’s her. I know her. I love her. But when she would touch me even as a kid, I would try to get away. It sets everything into overdrive. I feel like I’m in danger, that I have to run. But it’s not like anyone pays attention to a little boy who doesn’t like hugs. It was hard for me to vocalize how upset it was making me. So even now it’s… difficult to work on. But I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot of stuff, actually,” he said, stopping short of saying anything more before his mind could wander back to monsters in Seoul. He did not want the memory of one bad person get in the way of expressing his love for Jongdae or Yixing’s love for Sicheng. 

“I will always respect your boundaries. The last thing I’d want to do would be to make you uncomfortable around me. I don’t think any less of you for it and I most certainly don’t want Jongdae to break my legs.” 

On the TV off to the side, the end credits of the film began to scroll and Junmyeon got up to stop it while Yixing tidied up the trash from their meal. When they returned to each other, Junmyeon didn’t know what words to say. It was late but he did not want the night to end. It was so rare to have this much time with Yixing, time spent not sitting out front. Right now it felt like that forever disconnect was almost nonexistent, the mysterious curtain lifted to reveal an open field. All he needed to do to lean into the warmth in his heart that had grown for the younger man over all these tumultuous months was walk through it. He didn’t know what that looked like though. Jongdae was one in a billion. Maybe more than a billion. Thinking about it made Yixing’s mere presence make him nervous. But no, he was overthinking again. Lightning doesn't strike twice, definitely not for people like him.

So Yixing bid him farewell, a lengthy one that had them sitting outside the front door for another hour. Unlike usual, Junmyeon did most of the talking. All Yixing had to do was ask “why Batman?” And Yixing laughed not at the way Junmyeon sometimes embarrassingly tripped over his words, but at what he was saying. It spurred him on bringing such mirth to Yixing's face.

But eventually quiet returned to the little house on the hill as Junmyeon laid in the lavender room trying to keep his eyes open by staring at the crack that ran along the wall. He had almost lost his battle when the text came in from Yixing.

Maybe he could stay up just a little bit longer. 

***

The road to the orchard passed much more quickly when on his bike. It was a path Junmyeon had grown used to walking once fully recovered from his head injury. Despite the warmth in the air, the orchard was closed to the public this time of year. It would be opening in June, both the grounds and their store which sold his favorite apple cider. It still calmed him though, a stretch of agriculture that revealed itself to you after traversing the subtle curve of the main road.

Today this wouldn’t be the end of his journey though. Having chicken with Yixing the night before had been wonderful in so many ways, but it was also lucky. Not counting a can of tomato soup and some orange juice, there was nothing left to consume in the house except for tap water. He didn’t want to sign up for the grocery service he showed Jongdae just to make him worry less. Junmyeon knew he could push himself more than that.

Soon enough he was going the opposite direction, past the turnoff to where he lived, past Jongdae’s childhood home, past the open marketplace, and into town where his family’s grocery store was. His hands shook as he secured his bike so he took his time. He watched the cars pass by and a few people go into the store and leave. The business itself had been converted into a co-op of sorts a few years ago with his father as head of the board. Even now his father’s picture hung behind the register he passed as he walked in. 

He took it one aisle at a time. Shopping for groceries should not be so momentous but he did not put himself down for feeling all the things he was. It’s not like the anxiety was gone but it wasn’t debilitating either. He did take a moment to pause in the freezer section to take stock of himself even though he did not feel an immense need to do so. This was the beginning of his third week on a new and very different medication, one Baekhyun was confident in and up to this point hadn’t caused any bad side effects. 

A kid who looked to be high school aged sat boredly at the counter as each of his items were scanned. “Thank you,” Junmyeon said when he was finished but knew the look on his face must be strange by the way the kid seemed a bit taken aback.

“Yeah. No problem.”

And like this, his first interactive outing was a success which later that week made Baekhyun pump his fists in the air with glee. They agreed they could move from weekly sessions to meetings every other week. It would be twice more in the house then should things still be going well by then, their sessions would take place at Baekhyun’s office for as long as Junmyeon felt was necessary.

Sitting next to Yixing, they watched the entire La Bayadère DVD that Joohyun had sent that past Christmas. It was a performance Sicheng had always wanted to take part in. 

“This summer will make it ten years,” Yixing said once the show came to an end. “It is why I must pass this audition no matter what.” The dancer flinched in surprise when Junmyeon pressed the ice pack against his waist in response. Saturday nights had become a normal time to spend together, the one night Yixing allowed himself to not twist and twirl. It was on that same night that Yixing sat beside him as he went back to the website for Dopyeong Playhouse and submitted a form to volunteer for their summer season. 

Every few days Jongdae would call him with an existential crisis about impending fatherhood until one day, or really one night, it was two texts from Li Yin. The first was “it’s coming!” The second was the address of the hospital closest to Jongdae’s childhood home, the only one in all of Daegu he trusted because Junmyeon had been born there.

It was incredibly ill advised for Junmyeon to go out on his bike so late. But he flew past the store, past his high school, Dopyeong Playhouse, the airport, and the river. He secured his bike in a place he hoped was legal and plunged himself into a hospital that thankfully didn’t seem to have too much activity going on. He was already anxious, incredibly so, but at least this time there was a relatively normal reason for it.

It was around three in the morning when Jongdae came walking slowly down the hall. His eyes were bloodshot with tears all over his face. He called for Junmyeon, seemingly blindly, so he ran to him in the otherwise empty waiting room. 

“Dae?” he said cautiously as his friend stood with his arms clutched to his chest.

“Myeon… I’m a… I’m a dad,” he said through more tears and all the terrible thoughts Junmyeon hadn’t quite let overwhelm his mind vanished in an instant. 

Junmyeon took one step closer. And another. Then another. He wrapped his arms around Jongdae with all his strength and held him tight, feet planted firmly to the ground and eyes closed shut just like Baekhyun had suggested might help. It did. Just a little. He was ok as was Jongdae as was Li Yin as was Kim Hyeri, born on the 29th of April at 2:32 AM.