There were gasps, glares, and I'm sure a few people were getting ready to punch me, but the smile that appeared on Hyukjae's face made any consequences of my actions irrelevant. It was like looking through a tunnel. Everything else around me ceased to exist, except for the crying blonde-haired dancer standing just a few feet away from me.

Sure, I thought he was beautiful when he cried, all vulnerable with his nose flushed red, but when he smiled... It made my heart stop.

I went to take a step forward, slowly reaching out for him to take my hand, but I was nearly knocked off my feet when a large fist gripped the collar of my shirt and spun me around. I found myself face-to-face with Mr. Lee.

“What did you say?” he hissed at me. He yanked on the front of my shirt hard enough to hurt my neck. Wincing, I managed to loosen his grip enough to speak.

“I said, I can't accept this marriage,” I replied much louder this time. I wanted everybody gathered to hear. “I love your son. We've been together for more than two years, even during the months he left me to date Hyoyeon-shi at your demand. I love Hyukjae and I can't accept him marrying anybody other than me.”

My head connected painfully with the hardwood floor of the church, just inches from my broken camera. I stared up at the enraged man in front of me. My vision began to swirl. Maybe I had hit my head a little too hard, a concussion maybe?

The weak part of my brain swore at me for opening my mouth, but I had to be strong. I need Hyukjae in my life, no matter how hard I had tried to push him away.

It's all or nothing. Either I lose him, or I love him. Those were my only options

“Hyukjae,” I heard Hyoyeon whisper, “what is going on?”

Too my delight, he ignored her, and I could hear Hyukjae's footsteps—I'd know them anywhere—hurrying down from the altar. But then, they stopped. Just barely turning my head, I frowned when my boy's bride-to-be had her arms wrapped tightly around his waist and held him in place.

“What are you doing? This is our wedding.”

Hyukjae looked flustered, and even through my blurry vision, I could see fresh tears b in his eyes. “Hyoyeon, I—”

My attention was redirected to Mr. Lee as I received a harsh kick to the ribs. “How dare you humiliate me like this!” he hollered.

“Father! Stop it!” Hyukjae was trying to remove Hyoyeon from his body, but she dug her nails in tighter. Damn clingy .

“Humiliate you?” I asked, trying to stand up. “Is that all you care about? Your image? Not Hyukjae's? Don't you want your son to be happy?”

“He will be. With her!” He pointed at Hyoyeon; couldn't even remember her name.

Hyukjae had finally dislodged the female dancer from his waist and made about two steps before she grabbed his hand again. “No, father,” he said anyway. Turning to Hyoyeon, he smiled sadly. “Hyoyeon-shi, I'm sorry that things went this far. I-I can't marry you. I like you, but as a friend, not a lover. Please let go.”

“No!” she insisted. “We can make things work!”

He shook his head.

I had made it to my knees, willing to beg if I had to, when I was shoved back down onto my back by Mr. Lee's foot digging into my chest. Something fluttered from the inside of my suit jacket. I looked next to me and even my own eyes widened in shock.

It was Hyukjae's picture, my favorite one.

I was sure that I had left it back at my apartment. Had I really been so afraid to leave him that I had gone back and taken it out of the frame, bringing it with me? Had I really not been willing to give him away so easily?

I reached to pick it up, but a heavy shoe clamped down on my right hand. A stifled yelp left my lips as I felt my fingers being crushed. Mr. Lee put more weight on my hand. I could hear bones breaking. Still, I managed to curl the picture in my shattered hand. White hot pain erupted up my arm.

“Hae! Father, stop that! You'll break his hand!”

Thin fingers attempted to pry the leather sole off of me. Tiny water droplets splattered on the floor next to me. I glanced up only to see Hyukjae desperately trying to remove his father's shoe.

“Please! Just stop this!”

Finally, the weight was lifted, and I immediately cradled the picture against my chest. Something was definitely broken, and I could feel how tender my ribs were when I moved. But one simple touch on the cheek from Hyukjae made all of the pain go away.

I stared directly into his eyes and he stared right back. I opened my mouth to say something, maybe an 'I love you' or 'I'm sorry' or 'You look gorgeous in a tux,' but he was wrenched away from me before I could utter a word.

Hyoyeon had grabbed him just as Mr. Lee took me by the collar again and dragged me towards the door. He nudged my hand, none to gently, and smirked. “Just try to take more pictures of my son with that hand.” I was shoved roughly out of the church. “Now get out” he growled in my ear. “And stay away from my son!”

“W-Wait! I love him! Hyuk—”

The door was slammed in my face.

I had tried, and I still couldn't keep him by my side.

I sat there, outside the church, for another good hour or two. I waited for someone to come out, anybody, all the while clutching my hand to my chest. It ing hurt. Everything did.

After some time, I gave up. Things were hopeless. Hyukjae was gone.

I made it about four blocks before my knees gave way underneath me and I hit the pavement.

Things were fuzzy after that. I don't remember much of what happened. But, I woke up in a bright, white room. My hand was casted and my chest was wrapped tightly. Blinking rapidly, I found myself with a pounding headache.

“Oh, you're finally awake,” a soft voice said from the corner of the room. I managed to turn my head enough to see who it was.

Mrs. Lee, Hyukjae's mother, sat in a chair while holding a book. She smiled at me. Confused because I was sure she'd be just as furious at me as her husband, but I recalled that she had been quiet during everything that happened in the church.

“W-Where's Hyukjae?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“He really is all you think about,” Mrs. Lee said, causing a very obvious blush to creep over my ears. “You kept calling out his name when you were unconscious.”

“I-I did?”

She nodded and got up to come to my bedside. Touching my casted hand gently, she gave me a small smile. “I'm sorry. It was broken in several places but the doctors were able to realign everything. You had a couple cracked ribs too.” She bowed. “I apologize for my husband's behavior, though I'm sure hearing it from me does nothing.”

I shook my head with a smile to reassure her that it was fine. That old bastard wasn't going to change any time soon.

“He didn't get married.”

My head shot up and I stared at her with wide eyes. I'm sure that my audible gasp and the way my lips were twitching to grin like an idiot gave away that this was probably the happiest news I'd heard in months.

“In fact, he locked himself in the church bathroom and refused to come out until everybody left. He's been in his room ever since. Hasn't eaten, hasn't slept. I can't get him to come out. I always knew there was something special about you, Donghae. It was in the way he looked at you,” she digressed, almost musing to herself. “You'll be discharged in a few days. I took care of your bills. Don't worry about my husband. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again.”

She got up to leave, taking her book with her. Putting her hand on the door, she looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. “You'll take good care of him.”

It wasn't a question. Even if it had been, my answer would have been the same. With my life.

So as she said, in a few days I was healed enough to leave the hospital. My immediate thought was to find Hyukjae, but I had to remind myself that Mr. Lee was probably still pissed—even if his wife would take care of him—and if I even made a glance at his son, it's be much more than a broken and a few cracked ribs.

And as if there just had to be bad news to follow up the good, Mrs. Lee contacted me with the message that Hyukjae had run away and she had no idea where he was.

I tried his cell phone several times but he had turned it off. I spent the next several hours or so searching all of the places I knew he loved: our favorite coffee shop, the park, the soccer field, the dance studio.

It was dark by the time I had to call it quits and go back to my apartment. Feeling more defeated than before, I unlocked the door and shuffled my tired feet inside.

Sighing to myself, I kicked off my worn sneakers and went towards our my room, flipping the light switch on. I nearly fell backwards.

Hyukjae was sitting on my bed.

Too frozen to move, I stuttered a weak, “H-How'd you get in?”

He looked up at me, suddenly very nervous. He chewed on his bottom lip. His eyes were red and puffy from crying and his cheeks were ashen. He was even thinner than usual. Smiling slightly, he peeked up at me through his eyelashes.

“I-I found the spare key you had given me when we first went out. You know, the one I accidentally lost but you told me that it wouldn't matter because I'd never need it because you'd always be here to let me inside and—”

I was practically devouring his mouth under mine before he finished explaining. God, I'd missed his lips! Granted, they were a little chapped and kind of dry, but they were Hyukjae's lips. My Hyukjae's lips. That was all that mattered.

I'm not quite sure how long we laid there on my bed, our kisses ranging from hard and passionate to tear-filled and slow. His fingers were in my hair and I held him with the one arm I could.

“I love you, Hyukkie,” I murmured into his now swollen mouth. “I love you so much.”

“I'm sorry about your hand,” he replied.

“That wasn't exactly the response I was hoping for.” I leaned back to look at him and pouted.

He smiled that gummy smile that I practically lived for. “I love you too, Hae.”

I mirrored his smile and kissed his lips chastely. “That's better.” I couldn't stop the mischievous tone from slipping into my voice as I whispered in his ear. “Now, if you're so sorry about my hand, you'll have a whole life of marriage to make up for it.”

7/30/11