, was all Jeno could think. What the ?

Even after a sleepless night of going what the  and a lazy day of being at home doing nothing thinking what the , he still just could not stop thinking, and stewing, and thinking, and what the -ing. And now he was walking into work, no answers, as confused as ever. He didn't even know if he wanted answers. 

There were just so many things. The biggest thing being Jaemin's wife. She wasn't mentioned in Jaemin's letter and Jaemin had never mentioned her before. All Jeno had to go off of was what Doyoung said. Maybe he had misinterpreted things? Maybe the woman Doyoung thought was Jaemin's wife was a girlfriend he'd since broken up with, or a sister, or a coworker, or someone he was networking with, or a cousin, or a friend, or even a hook-up. She could've been anyone; Jeno desperately told himself that she really could've been anyone.

But something told Jeno that Doyoung was right. Jeno could see it; Doyoung's schmoozing for tips mixed with Jaemin's polite businessman charm, casually introducing the woman as his beautiful wife, and Doyoung shaking her hand and showering her with compliments and remembering to ask Jaemin about her, all just for a few extra bucks. The thought of it made Jeno feel like a stake being run through his heart. If things had hurt before, now with the letter sitting on his kitchen table, Jaemin's betrayal was felt tenfold. 

What would Jeno's coworkers think? What would Jaemin's wife think? What would Jeno's friends and family think? Would he get in trouble at the Sign of the Dove; something about fraternizing with a customer during work hours?

Oh, but deep deep deep inside, there was a part of Jeno that didn't care. He felt relieved and validated, honestly, that his feelings when they'd first met weren't crazy. There was something there, between them, and Jaemin felt it too, strong enough to take such a drastic measure, crazy just like Jeno felt. Jaemin was risking it all for the slightest bit of electricity, and Jeno really, really, wanted to too. 

That night at three in the morning he'd clutched the letter to his chest, lost in his imagination. This had started with a letter- romance beyond Jeno's wildest fantasies, and he only dream about where it could go. Soft kisses and touches, laughter, the kind of tenderness only found in love songs with lyrics his mother always said were fake. She always said people didn't take care of each other the way they did in music, but here Jeno was, with a love letter all for him. If this was only the beginning...Jeno could have enough love for a lifetime. 

Jeno couldn't think of anybody who had ever felt strongly for him. Of course, there were the kitchen staff hookups, making out in the walk-in, and the occasional tinder date, but nothing serious, even when Jeno wanted it desperately. He had lived life weaving in and out of other people's lives, an extra with one line or two, or a one to two-episode arc, but he wasn't anybody's main character. He was their waiter for when their real life events happened. 

But Jaemin saw him. He had been seen, for what felt like the first time in forever, and Jaemin had liked what he saw. He liked it enough to do what he did. He liked him more than enough for anything, he liked him the same way Jeno did, and if that was anything to go by, then Jeno knew the passion between them was a little crazy. 

Jeno could feel his response burning a hole in his pocket, hidden and tucked away. He'd written it at six in the morning as the sun rose in the sky, hurried, his handwriting barely legible with the way he shook. Written inside was a yes, detailing how much he wanted, no, needed Jaemin back, how he felt just the same. Jeno wasn't sure if he was going to give Jaemin the note or not. But he hadn't had the strength to write a rejection. 

"Dude, are you okay?" Johnny asked during staff meal. . Jeno had been thinking so hard, the time from walking into work until now was a total fog. He hadn't touched his food; just pushed it around on the plate. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't get much sleep," Jeno said. It wasn't a real lie, just a lie of omission. 

"Don't let them see," Doyoung added on Jeno's other side. "Don't let anything affect your tips." 

Jeno chuckled a little. "Right." 

"Alright everyone, scarf it down scarf it down!" Manager Kun yelled. "We open up in ten minutes, you hear me? Ten minutes! Get to work!"

Jeno stuffed as much as he could in his mouth without getting sick and brushed off his lapels. Doyoung was right; he can't let this affect his work. Especially if he wants to buy expensive produce this month. 

It hadn't been a lie when he told Jaemin the other night about the beauty of a busy rush; it was all a blur. There was not even a single second to ponder what had happened; a moment in thought meant an angry customer. And less tips. So Jeno was gloriously distracted for a little while. 

But what was he supposed to do when Jaemin walked in, following after Renjun, being seated at his usual seat in Jeno's section? How could he forget now, when he was met with Jaemin's pretty, perfect face, giving him a normal smile?

He sure didn't seem affected. How long ago had Jaemin sent the letter? Had it been sitting in his mailbox for days, and Jaemin had to just act like everything was the same, waiting for Jeno's response? Jeno could never act that well. 

Acting. Clearly, Jaemin was good at it: he acted like he was polite and wealthy and friendly and kind. Jeno wondered, did he act with his wife too? Did he act like he enjoyed it if and when he ed her? Or was he acting with Jeno; loyal to his wife in actuality but giving Jeno this hope all for a secret gay hookup? Was he constantly acting like the good heteroual son when secretly harboring these desires for men? Had he loved her truly at some point, and was now just acting as if he did? Or did they have some sort of...agreement?

Jeno briefly hoped upon hope for that but it came crashing in one second, ache and anger mixing together in his stomach. How could Jaemin do this to him? Did he know how much he felt?

He couldn't delay any longer. Jaemin was perusing the menu oh so expectantly, waiting for him, wanting. Jeno could feel it now more than ever. So with a deep breath, he walked over. 

"Hello Jaemin, can I get you started with something to drink?" Jeno twiddled his fingers, pretending like he forgot that Jaemin wanted an old-fashioned. 

"An old-fashioned, please. How are you tonight?" The question was so genuine that it just made everything better, or worse, Jeno didn't really know. 

"I'm alright. Um. How come I've never met your wife before?" Jeno asked, and Jaemin grimaced; god Jeno knew he was a bad actor. It was awkward and uncomfortable and too far for a waiter to go. But hadn't Jaemin already taken things far enough? Wasn't this the right way to go? "My coworkers said you bring her in all the time."

Jaemin chuckled and looked at the table, hands twitching in his lap. "She's been busy lately. It's gala season." 

it, whatever, Jeno wanted to press so he would. "You and I are the same age, right? And we're pretty young. What made you wanna get married at such a young age?" 

Jaemin laughed awkwardly again. "This beautiful thing called an arranged marriage," he answered, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Any expression Jeno wore and any thought he had inside his head was immediately wiped away. "We've been married three years now. Can you believe it? Even younger than you'd think. Barely out of high school." He scoffed. "You'd think arranged marriages have fallen out of favor in this country, right? Well, not for families like mine, or hers. Not when the two CEO's of the biggest manufacturing companies in the country have children the same age, a boy and a girl, and could easily solidify the merger of their companies, and avoid a monopoly case by having the future grandchild be the heir of both companies, with a wedding." Jaemin exhaled, all of the pent-up anger clearly trapped inside of him, following out with his breath. "Sorry. Oversharing. I know you have other customers you need to tend to." 

Jeno looked at the immaculately shiny floor and ignored him. "Is she decent, at least?" 

"She's lovely. She's so lovely," Jaemin answered and looked up. In his eyes, Jeno could see it all. She was nice. It wasn't her fault. But Jaemin didn't love her and couldn't love her. And he would never love her as anything more than a sister, a friend.

, maybe it was hard to be rich. Jeno couldn't imagine having his fate laid out for him like that at his age. Forced to live a lie forever, and die without ever having what you truly wanted, or be a cheater. 

Of course Jaemin wrote the letter. Of course he did. Jaemin's ache for him had been real. Their connection was strong enough that Jaemin would risk his life, his wife for him. He needed Jeno, and he needed it for himself. He was obviously desperate for any sort of escape, and Jeno had appeared before him. His perfect, perfect escape; the chance to live how he'd always wanted to. Jeno could imagine him, seventeen and begging for this thing not to happen so he could live with men like how he wanted. But god he'd never even had the chance. 

Maybe it was acting on one end, but not Jeno's. Jaemin was raw and real, maybe for the first time in a long while. And he had chosen Jeno as the person he'd share this with.

"I-I see." Both of them couldn't look at each other. "Oh yeah. Your old fashioned. I'll be back with that." 

Jeno turned and walked to the bar as fast as his heels would take him. Answers he got, but they came with more questions attached, and he had to concentrate. 

But Jaemin made it easy for him. He was quiet, but not unkindly so, for the rest of the night. Jeno was sure Jaemin knew he'd received the letter. And he was giving him time to think. 

Oh, god, it was so hard to think with the dim lights and the constant chatter and the different smells invading his mind's space where he just needed peace and quiet to ponder. He tried to think and then he didn't try to think and then his brain became a scramble. 

Which was probably why, when he brought Jaemin's check at the end of the night, he slipped his response letter inside the envelope as well. He probably wasn't thinking.