v.

Work, food, and sleep.

That’s all that Yesung had focused on, though admittedly the food and sleep parts could have gone better.

Still, the lack of variation was what provided him with comfort, if that’s what you could call it.

It was a routine he never deviated from. Not out of force, but out of disinterest. Nothing interested him anymore, apart from the bare essentials of keeping himself alive and well, and the only true deviation occurred around six months after this new found lifestyle, when he decided to leave his family home and the memories behind to start afresh, in a new home, in a new place.

Not that that had gone particularly well either. But there was no one to bother him, to tell him “ you need to do something with your life ”, so he was content.

Kind of.

Yesung was fine. Or as fine as he could be, when the sunshine disappeared from his life, leaving only murky grey clouds in its wake, but he was fine.

His job was satisfactory enough. He wouldn’t say he liked it, but he didn’t particularly dislike it either. It paid his bills and wasn’t a burden, and that was more he could ask for. The offer of the transfer had been one change that he had liked, the move to the new city had been as smooth as possible.

It was a life of mediocrity, mostly, and that was sufficient. He ate enough to keep him going and slept just enough to avoid collapsing halfway through the day; he didn’t need anything else in his life, and refused to give into nostalgia or wistfulness.

He didn’t know how long he’d have to keep it up, but he was taking it a day at a time. And that was good enough for him.

Keeping himself closely guarded had subconsciously become his main priority, never exchanging more than simple pleasantries with people outside of coworkers or occasional calls from family members, and had definitely not exchanged any words with Hyukjae, who he resolutely refused to think about, to let the memories of their past find their way into his waking hours, of late night movies and video games and snowball fights. Such imagery only resurfaced when he was dreaming and powerless to control it, until he realised that succumbing to exhaustion reduced the likelihood of him remembering whether he dreamt or not.

He moved around with a sense of numbness and a dull ache in his heart, and eventually the Yesung from the younger days seemed more like an alternate reality than just a distant memory. Days melded into each other, and for all Yesung would know it could be June or December and he would be none the wiser.

But during his lowest hours, ones he regretted the mornings after, alcohol became a steady companion. Never enough to lose control and do something stupid, just enough to scramble his mind for a bit so his thoughts didn’t feel suffocating. And sometimes, more times than he’d like to admit really, the taste of alcohol brought back fuzzy memories of clumsy kisses and a familiar scent, one that he would wallow in until he’d pass out once more and wake up with regrets of letting himself feel so weak.

Six months, a year, two years later and things remained constant, save for the occasional renovation or promotion at his job, and Yesung was beginning to forget his old life. He could do well in loneliness. He did not need anyone to help, and perhaps the rest of his life being this way wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

·•·

It was a day like any other, just a random weekend with nothing more exciting than grocery shopping on the agenda, and Yesung was nearly home, panting heavily after carrying two heavy bags up three flights of stairs thanks to a broken elevator. He made it to his door without collapsing, a great achievement even if he did say so himself, and was still trying to figure out where he’d pocketed his keys when his phone began vibrating.

An odd occurrence in itself, he didn’t usually receive calls on a Saturday afternoon, especially not from unknown numbers, but there were the annoying sales calls he’d tried so many times to block with no avail. So he answered it, fully expecting to have to politely decline a real estate offer or whatever it was that the salesperson would inevitably drone on about.

“Hello?” he said, as he fumbled around for the keys to the door.

The line was silent, apart from the faint sounds of static. Yesung frowned, wondering if the call had been accidental, but then-

“Yesung-hyung?”

Yesung froze, blood running cold when he heard the voice.

It had been ages since he had heard it, but hearing it brought back so many memories and emotions that for a moment he forgot how to speak.

“Hyukjae?” he said, his own voice as low as a whisper.

“Hello, Yesung-hyung.” Hyukjae’s voice was oddly clipped, bordering on formal, in a way that he’d never sounded before. “How have you been?”

“Fine.” He was lying through his teeth, and no doubt Hyukjae would see through it, but the younger did not press further. “And you?”

“Good.” There was a pause. “I’m getting married.”

Yesung nearly dropped his phone. He’d thought the unexpected call was shocking enough, but nothing had prepared him for that declaration, of all things.

“ What ?”

“Yeah. It was decided a few weeks ago by my parents.”

“Oh.” Yesung felt like throwing up, but that was no way to congratulate a newly engaged friend, so composing himself how much ever he could, he spoke again. “Congratulations.”

He hoped he did not sound as heartbroken as he felt.

But Hyukjae too, sounded strangely flat when he next spoke. 

“Thanks,” he said, sounding rather like he was accepting condolences, but Yesung did not have time to dwell on it before he continued. “My parents have invited all the neighbours for the engagement party, including your family. Will you be able to make it?”

Hyukjae rattled off the invitation like he’d rehearsed it a million times, making Yesung wonder if Hyukjae even wanted him there, and was tempted to decline.

After all, two years had passed and this was why Hyukjae chose to contact him? True, it wasn’t like he had reached out after the younger’s departure, but it was Hyukjae who had started avoiding him first, right? Yesung ought to just slam the phone shut in response.

“I’ll see,” he found himself saying, and after uttering a brief thanks, Hyukjae hung up, leaving Yesung completely and utterly perplexed.

If it wasn’t for the phone screen still displaying the just-ended call, he would’ve thought he had dreamt the whole thing. 

Hyukjae. Called me. And he’s getting married .

He tried to wrap his head around the concept. Of Hyukjae, happy with a faceless wife and a child, making a happy home for them and creating his own little world, living the domestic life that left no room for him, an old friend, tied to years of emotional baggage. 

In a daze, Yesung walked into his apartment, pacing up and down, pain rising in his chest and restricting his breathing, very nearly dizzying.

His phone rang again, but this time Yesung could see who it was from. Taking a couple of deep breaths, hoping his voice wouldn’t tremble as badly as his hands were, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Yesung? How are you?” his mother sounded concerned, and Yesung cursed his inability to control his emotions where it was most needed.

“Yeah I’m good, eomma, how are you?”

“I’m fine, but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” his voice was getting steadier, thankfully. “What’s going on?”

“Well, no doubt you heard, but Hyukjae’s getting married! So his parents want to know if we’ll be able to make it.”

Yesung felt the pain wash over him again, but he couldn’t break in front of his mother, not now when she was already suspicious. 

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Oh so he called you already? You will be able to make it?”

There were a few seconds of silence as Yesung considered it. He was torn between wanting to see Hyukjae again, but he wondered if he’d be able to handle seeing the person he loved given away to someone else, right in front of him.

“I don’t know, eomma.”

“You should come! You’re best friends, I’m sure he’d want you there.”

Yesung chuckled dryly. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t know, he sounded pretty eager to talk to you over the phone earlier. I had to give him your number, since he wanted to invite you himself.”

So Hyukjae wanted him there? Yesung had thought he’d been forced to invite him by his parents, but his mother’s words said otherwise.

But then why had he been so stiff and emotionless when they’d spoken?

“When is it?”

“A week from today, I think. So will you be coming? Because I need to confirm by tonight.”

…

“I will.”

“Good!” his mother sounded pleased, but Yesung felt like his stomach was twisting itself into knots. “I’ll send you the address, or you can come home and we can go together.”

“No, I’ll get there on my own. Thank you, eomma.”

One week.

In one week, he’ll be seeing the person who he’d futilely been trying to forget the past two years.

He thought he’d done a good job, lived a steady enough life, but the anticipation of seeing Hyukjae again was terrifying. And in such a situation, where the distance between them would be final, where any hope, however faint it had been, that Hyukjae might become his would disappear.

·•·

It was a miracle that he even made it through the week unscathed.

(Well, mostly. Sleep evaded him like he was the plague.)

·•·

It was on the day of the engagement party that he realised that he probably should have bought some sort of present for the couple, but the party was only in a few hours and he still hadn’t finished getting ready.

Since the venue was a couple of hours away and Yesung didn’t know what time the party would end, he had booked a hotel room in the city to spend the night. It would provide a welcome distraction from his daily routine anyways, since the opportunity presented itself, so he’d decided to take a day’s break.

Clothes lay strewn all over Yesung’s bedroom, after realising that he didn’t know exactly what dress code he was supposed to be following. Was it casual or semi formal? He hoped he didn’t have to wear a suit, but he had no way of knowing, he'd ever really been to an engagement party, and he certainly hadn’t thought Hyukjae’s would be the first, not under these circumstances.

In the end he’d decided on wearing a dark turtleneck over formal trousers, and took a linen blazer just in case the setting was more formal than he expected. Knowing Hyukjae’s parents and their rigid customs, he wouldn’t be surprised if he arrived to find everyone wearing three-piece suits and tuxedos.

He reached the station with just a few minutes to spare; it was around 4pm at the time and the party was supposed to start at 7, according to the invite his mother had forwarded. 

Yesung almost wished that the train ride wouldn’t end. He was racked with nervousness, fidgeting with his rings, could barely even sit still, crossing his legs one way and then another every few seconds. But the train slowed to a halt at 6pm, and Yesung braced himself for the ten minute walk to the hotel that was bound to be hell when his legs seemed to feel like jelly.

The room he’d booked was airy and spacious, and after setting his bags down, he attempted to make himself look more presentable. After carefully combing his hair and making his face look less pale than a reanimated corpse, he packed up his wallet and keys and left the room, wondering what to buy as an engagement present. He knew absolutely nothing about Hyukjae’s fiancee - the word made Yesung’s heart a little heavier - so he did the only thing he absolutely knew Hyukjae would like.

He walked into a liquor store, and bought a fancy bottle of wine.

It was not the best thing, but it was the only thing he could think of, and afford, at the moment. Besides , he thought bitterly, I’ll be able to buy something much nicer for the wedding itself .

It was a 20 minute taxi ride to the venue, and Yesung’s nerves worsened by the minute.

Bright lights decorated the entra