He’s trying not to cry, to laugh, to reach out to something because he was wearing a suit – a suit! This wasn’t the boy he fell in love with, with eyes bleeding kohl and neon glitter on his cheeks with a glossy cherry pout and ripped designer jeans. This was Mister John Smith with Armani cologne and “how do you do” and “I’m sorry, you don’t have an appointment, but I can slot you in at five if you can wait a while?”

So here he is, waiting, 5:30PM, his watch blinks at him in the half-light, 6:00PM and suddenly the door opens and

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, please come in.”

-

“Who are you?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand I---”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“What are you---”

“You told me you’d wait for me. That I should come find you when I sort my life out, do you remember?”

“That’s---”

“I’m here, Ji, I’m here, but where are you? You left, is that it? Huh? You lied to me, is that what you did? Did you think I wouldn’t realize?”

-

“Don’t be stupid.” His words are sharp, cold. Organized.

Heh, he was always an OCD freak.

“I didn’t lie to you. I grew up, that’s what I did.” Pretty features slant into a sneer. “You thought I’d party my life away, eh? Please.”

The younger man turns to the window and looks out at the sky.

“I waited for you.”

“...I’m here now.”

A raised eyebrow and a bemused chuckle. “Are you?” He takes a sip of brandy.

“Or are you ten years away?”