+ sad ending +

{ Too Late }

{ for Rinn1424 }

Suho was always late. As belittling as it seemed, as he was EXO's leader, Suho was always the type of person to be late. He forgot dates and couldn't propertly remember times; he's always showing up huffing and apologizing, whether it be to practice, showcases, or even salon appointments. More importantly, Suho had always been the type of person to be late especially when the events involved him and you. That had always seemed to be the case. Always. Ever since your first year in middle school, your beloved Suho-oppa was always tardy. And it was apparent that it took a toll on Suho.

But, the story is, he was late for everything.

For your 7th grade musical, in which you played the lead.

You belted out the notes melodiously, confidently scanning the crowds for a familiar best friend; and it wasn't until you couldn't locate him that your heart sank. You voice nearly cracked, but with a bright smile and poised elegance, you easily slipped away from that sticky fix, recomposing yourself and your tears. You continued on with the show with a heavy heart and a convincing facade, jolting up into your lines when necessary and fixing your expressions when it was called for. And it wasn't until an obnoxiously loud slam caused your accompanist to stop; with the instrumental gone, you could barely continue, so you stopped, mid-line, and stared at the entrance.

You would've blown up at the intruder for ruining your monologue, but seeing Suho standing there, huffing and just barely on the brink of collapsing from excessive running, you felt your heart wrench; you were almost guilty. You had invited him despite knowing that he was probably busy training for his upcoming audition; you had grown substantially angry at him for not being present for the first half, and  now that Suho was here, you couldn't help but smile just a tad bit. He waved lamely at you and bowed his head apologetically to the glares of dismay all aimed at him.

He glanced at you one last time with a desperate plea and almost as if you could read his mind, you motioned boldly to your accompanist, urging her to continue; and therefore, you resumed your long soliloquy, pulling the audiences fiery gazes away from Suho and morphing those anger-blazed glares into awe-struck stares towards you.

You could've forgotten about Suho's rude entry, much thanks to his encouraging "Hwaitings!" and "You can do it!"

After the show, Suho wouldn't stop apologizing. You could only smile and shrug, "You made it; that's what matters."

For your sweet sixteen birthday party.

Suho jumped out of bed, bouncing towards his closet, with a string of profanities escaping his lips. He threw on a quick outfit, slipping on his shoes and grapping hold his his necessities before bolting our his front door and towards town, where he would quickly grab a last minute present for you. His phone vibrated incessantly in his pocket, a sure sign that you were already looking for him; he figured he was late again, seeing that your party would run from morning to late night -- and the sun was already high in the sky, a guarantee that it was already around noon.

He pursed his lips together, pushing himself into a nearby clothing store; he hardly remembered what he grabbed that cost nearly forty dollars, but he paid for it and thanked the clerk accordingly, ignoring the woman's flustered gaze penetrating his reddening visage. He combed his hair back and ran the four blocks back to your home which was seemingly right across the street from his. By the time he reached your front door step, you and the remainder of the party were already blowing out the cake, in which the candles could've been put out with all his huffing and puffing by the doorway. Sweating, and thoroughly embarassed, he noticed the clutter of opened presents and shredded wrapping paper in the corner of the living room, an awkward expression crossing his distorted features as he waved shyly at you.

You laughed breathlessly at his flustered appearance, shrugging nonchalantly at his silent apology. Not much could have been done at that point, you figured. You graciously thanked him for the present, whole-heartedly knowing it was a last minute gift, and hugged him; because somewhere deep down, you knew that it took a lot for him to get that present and make it just in time for cake. "Take a breather," you murmured against his shoulder, smiling at the sensation of his arms circling around your waist. "You need it, don't you?"

"I'm so sorry, I --"

"It's okay, oppa. You made it.. that's what matters."

For your high school graduation.

Suho caught you just barely exiting the stadium, clad in your royal burgundy graduation gown and cap in hand; a grandeur of flowers covered your slender arms, and he could only rub the back of his neck; a single rose was perched in between his thumb and index finger, with a sheepish smile gracing his lips to match. The red of the rose equally matched the shade of his cheeks as he coughed awkwardly. "So, congratulations," he spluttered uncomfortably, squirming mentally beneath your meticulous gaze.

"You just came, didn't you?"

Hesitantly, he nodded. You sighed, unsure of what to say. You loved this man dearly, despite his slightly forgetful mind. WIth his being two years older, you figured he'd have some sense of responsibility, but you assumed that it was his child-like mentaility that made you admire him so much. But then it hit you; he had just arrived. Meaning he missed your graduation speech; he missed seeing you accept your high school diploma; he missed the tears and the laughter and the joy streaking your features, but how could you be mad? You knew him.

"You made it, at least," you breathed solemnly, masking a jeering grin. And that's what mattered.

He was even late to realize you were working as his wardrobe manager.

"W..what are you doing here?" Suho exclaimed, engulfing you in a tight hug. He smiled affectionately down at you before rubbing your back. "You never told me you were working with SM!"

You chortled almost bitterly, lips pulling into a tight line. "Oppa, I told you two weeks ago.. you were too busy playing your video games, I guess.. remember?"

"O-oh.. Really? Oh jeez, I'm so sorry, princess!" he gushed, cooing your beloved nickname as if it would help gain your forgiveness easier.

"It's okay." Nothing mattered anymore.

Suho was always late. He was late, and he was late, and late and late, late, late.

He never figured it would play such a huge toll on his life until now, until today; he never figured being late would be so painful. He figured that if he would at least show up, that would be what mattered at least; he figured that being late would never hinder in his way. He made it to be one of the biggest rookie groups, and he was still always late then. He made it to be one of the most awarded vocalists, and he was still always late then. But today.. oh, today. All throughout his time of knowing you, he knew you never dated; so he did the same and never dated any other girl. Selfishly, he wanted to be yours; he wanted you to be his; and selfishly, he tried his best to keep every admiring fanboy away from you. 

And selfishly, he prayed every day and night that no other guy would ask you out, in hopes that he would finally muster enough courage to ask you out himself. For a long time, Suho would hold back and procrastinate into another day. And he was late once again, as that courage never came. Because he caught you. He caught you hugging another man; he was taller than Suho. He was more muscular, more toned; he was surely more handsome than Suho was.  And it was at that point that Suho figured being late really did take its toll on him, because he no longer had any sense of confidence, hope, or happiness.

He figured he would forever remain the one that was always too late.