pairing: jongyu » onho; pg
genre: onew-centric, seatbelt!au, post-tragedy, angst, romance
length: one shot — 4,758 words

Jonghyun had always been the stronger of the two; whereas Jinki was terrified of showing his weaker side, Jonghyun could let himself shed the tears that needed to be released; when Jinki felt stuck and cornered with nowhere to turn, Jonghyun never feared asking for help.

Everything that Jonghyun did was with high vibrancy―he was the brilliant splashes of color on Jinki’s monochrome canvas, the blip of nonsensical in Jinki’s consistent stream of analytical wavelengths. They were each other’s greatest strength and ultimate weakness all at once. One could not survive without the other, two peas in a pod, the inhale of oxygen to the exhale of carbon dioxide, yin and yang; all of their similarities and differences swirled together in a symphony of love and compassion and everything that came in between.

Together they were a beautiful whirlwind, a constant push and pull, daring where one was careful, spontaneous when the other was meticulous, and the list could go on and on and on and on and―

They were supposed to last forever.

When Jonghyun died, Jinki’s life came to an abrupt halt.

He stayed by Jonghyun’s side for those three days he teetered on the edge, never leaving once―it was as if he was possessed by some sort of sick masochistic desire, choosing to stay quarantined in a hospital room watching his lover’s life slip quite literally from between his fingers. And yet, no matter how tightly Jinki held Jonghyun’s hand, he knew Jonghyun wasn’t going to make it; he knew it but he wasn’t going anywhere because there was still that hope, that abominable feeling of maybe, just maybe―the repeated prayer of Oh god, please, please, please don’t take him from me, he’s all I have, all I want, I don’t know what I’d ever do without him. Jinki had begged and plead to every deity he could think of off the top of his head. He screamed and he cried and he wanted but it was done.

In all honesty, somewhere deep inside he had always known that Jonghyun’s vivid colors weren’t meant for Earth anyway; they were never Jinki’s to monopolize in the first place, were never his to keep. Jonghyun was born to paint the colors into sky, to bring them to life, and bring he did; the sunset had never been more mind-blowingly magnificent pouring through the windows than when Jonghyun took his last breath.

Jinki hated him then, hated him so much that when he wept, the raw tears felt like acid burning down his cheeks. How could Jonghyun forget to wear his damn seatbelt? Didn’t he know just how precious his life was to his friends, to his family, to Jinki?

In the months following the loss, Jinki became utterly dysfunctional, unable eat or sleep for days at a time, refusing to go to work; he couldn’t do anything but cry, buried under the covers of their bed and trying his best to absorb whatever essence of Jonghyun that was left behind because he knew it wouldn’t last long, that he had to take what he could get while he still could.

His friends would come and try to help him find some grounds of comfort, but it was all in vain; this was just one part of Jinki’s life that he was going to suffer on his own.

And suffer he did.

~~

Sometimes, on nights when he was particularly drunk, Jinki thought he could see Jonghyun.

It was a little out-of-focus, but if he squinted hard enough he could still make out the dark smudges of eyeliner and stage makeup on Jonghyun’s face, could see that crisp white shirt and black pants that he was wearing on his way back late from a performance that fateful day.

And as the illusion sat in front of Jinki, golden eyes observing him silently, he always looked so sad, so guilty, yet still so unbearably Jonghyun that it would make Jinki fall into a fit of tears. The hallucination would cry too, which only made the pain twice as ruthless, as if it wasn’t already bad enough; Jonghyun’s smile had always been Jinki’s only solace, and without it, there was truly nothing left in the world for him.

But then Jinki would wake up in the morning with a terrifying headache and a hazy memory of a sentimental dream wherein Jonghyun sang him a sweet melody that had finally, finally lulled him to sleep. Usually, after those nights, Jinki would spend countless hours wondering if Jonghyun was watching over him even after death; those thoughts eventually became the driving force that halted his tears and helped to pull him back together.

“I’ll be okay, Jjong,” he’d murmur uncertainly as he stumbled to his feet, gathering himself and heading to the bathroom to freshen up. He’d look around one last time into the empty apartment, heart heavy in his chest because the mirage was no longer there to comfort him.

Yet still, he smiled anyway―a sad, wretched smile.

“I’ll be okay, in a little bit.”

~~

The first year had been the worst kind of denial stage Jinki had ever been through, buying cans upon cans of the Red Bull that Jonghyun used to drink religiously every morning, stuffing the refrigerator full with them until most of the groceries ended up in the freezer or on the countertops due to lack of space.

He couldn’t even look at milk anymore because all it would do was remind him of the late nights that Jonghyun came home from a performance with an easy smile and carton of milk; he’d kiss Jinki senseless in those late hours, high on adrenaline and vodka and whatever else gave Jonghyun that edge when he got up on stage and sang until his lungs gave out. He’d set the carton in the fridge and pin Jinki to the door―those nights Jinki didn’t bother sleeping because he had to be up at five anyway, and who knew how long Jonghyun was planning to take.

The night was spent in whispered words of love, affection, and sweet nothings that made Jinki blush down all the way down to his toes, andgoddammit, of course it would something as pointless and irrational as milkthat would remind him of those tender moments they spent wrapped up in each other.

It showed, even now, three years later, when Jinki swallowed his cereal dry and his coffee black.

~~

Just as it had been with Jonghyun, it was a twist of fate, meeting Minho. The day had been particularly harsh on Jinki, with nothing seeming to go his way; he was late to work and his boss had yelled at him, later he felt guilty about buying takeout, and afterwards he had a slipup in his otherwise established routine when he thoughtlessly got off a stop too early, thoughts of Jonghyun preoccupying his mind.

If anything, he should have expected it—everything about that day had been off―and when Jinki had fallen over, Chinese takeout making an absolute mess on the road, he looked up to see six-feet of breathtakingly handsome staring right back at him with huge, inquisitive, dark brown eyes. He found that he just couldn’t resist that kind smile, or the large, warm hands offered to him. He wasn’t supposed to be eating dinner with a total stranger, wasn’t supposed to be laughing and chatting like everything was okay; Jinki hadn’t really been okay for over three years now.

How long had it been since his smile actually reached his eyes?

And after they parted ways, all the happiness drained from his body, and he felt this sickness in his stomach, this unbearable pain that burned and ached so badly that he felt like he was being split in two. Jinki knew this feeling, knew it like the back of his hand.

He missed Jonghyun.

~~

Jinki hadn’t been to the bar Jonghyun used to sing at regularly since he’d passed away. It was Jonghyun’s favorite place―he’d proposed to Jinki here in a quiet manner that two gay men in Korea only could, but even then it had meant so much to the two of them. Their relationship had been a secret to most of their friends, but the inner circle had always known. However, the last thing Jinki expected right when he walked in was the small shrine dedicated to Jonghyun resting next to the stage, just above the staircase.

Tears pricking his eyes, Jinki smiled softly as he walked over to the shrine, realizing a little too late that he really should not have been surprised. The two of them had been especially close with the owner of the bar—Amber was practically their adopted sister, coming to spend days and sometimes even weeks with them in their small apartment when the stress of being so far away from her family and home became overwhelming.

As expected, the picture was impeccable; Jonghyun’s smiling face was glowing so brightly even behind the glass frame just like it used to, and Jinki fought the urge to reach out and trace the outline of those cheeks, knowing that he would cry when he came in contact with the cool glass instead of the younger man’s warm, tanned skin. Offering a brief prayer, he shuffles past the smatterings of people packing the place and starts towards the bar, dead-set on not looking over at the booth where Jonghyun had offered him a shining gold ring in a small velvet box so many years ago.

In his effort to not think about it, he wondered inadvertently if Amber still had that secret video recording she’d taken of the moment, but quickly he cleared the thought away. Jinki smiles when he notices the young woman wiping down the bar with a white rag, looking older and more mature then he last remembered. He’s almost discouraged by her appearance—there was something elegant about her boyish looks that was so different from before―but when she looked up his heart swelled to see the way her entire expression brightened and eyes sparkled at the sight of him, just like they used to.

“Oppa!” she yells, and practically jumps over the counter in her eagerness to envelope him in a warm hug. Jinki feels another twinge in his heart when he remembers the way Amber used to call Jonghyun ‘hyung’ instead of ‘oppa’ like she did with Jinki and the many hilarious arguments the younger two used to have because of it. “It’s been so long!”

Jinki only hums in agreement, smiling back at her. Her eyes are a bit misty but her joy doesn’t falter. “You haven’t come by here since the accident,” she adds, slightly hesitant.

The older man can’t help but feel a bit awkward—had it really been that long?―even as he takes a seat at the bar and allows Amber to serve him a beer. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, looking up at her sadly.

She just shakes her head. “I’m just really glad that you came, especially today of all days.” Tuesdays at nine used to be Jonghyun’s performance slot—it was half of the reason why he’d showed up at this time.

“I didn’t mean to avoid this place. There were just too many memories here,” he admits, and then, smiling, he mentions, “But it was definitely his favorite.”

Amber hums and agreement, eyes glittering in the dim lighting as she glances over at the stage. “If he were here, it would still be. The recent nine o’clock act has kept up his legacy,” she tells him with a wink, and Jinki gives her a curious look. Amber just smiles wider, signaling for him to just listen as she heads over to attend to a different customer.

Glancing around as inconspicuously as possible, Jinki realizes with a start how packed the place was tonight. The crowd was roughly the size that Jonghyun used to pull, full of young college students that made Jinki feel a hundred times older. He notices the four young boys on stage, dressed casually in skinny jeans and t-shirts—Jinki’s hands smooth down the wrinkles on his dress pants, adjusting his suit jacket self-consciously―smiling brightly at the crowd as the fourth one tunes his guitar.

The first one, a small man with dark red hair and rather large eyes coughs awkwardly into the mike. “Good evening everyone. We are EXO and we’re going to perform a series of self-produced songs,” he begins, and there is a cluster of boys right at the front that cheer a little too loudly. The small man shoots them a glare before introducing himself. “I’m Do Kyungsoo.”

The taller one on his left has pink hair and sparkly eyes, calling himself Lu Han before it is followed by more cheers from the same group. The boy next to him introduces himself as well, saying Byun Baekhyun into the mike before pulling back again with a bright grin. The one with the guitar speaks last, the catlike smile curling his lips widening. “I’m Kim Jongdae,” he says, and Jinki is so caught off guard by the familiarity of the name that he nearly chokes on his beer.

Hey, I’m Kim Jonghyun. I know this is a bit sudden, but I was sitting in the back of the class when I saw you walk in and I realized that I just had to know your name.

What? Why do you have to know?

Because your smile is breathtaking, and I know that I’ll regret not talking to you for the rest of my life.

Jinki nearly has a breakdown because of the flashback right when the four boys start singing, but then suddenly there is a warm hand on his shoulder and Jinki’s head snaps around so quickly he was surprised it didn’t break. His betraying heart jumps pathetically hard in his chest at the sight of large eyes and plump lips pulled into an easy smile.

“Jinki-sshi!” Minho begins, and Jinki can’t help but return the smile despite the swirl of peculiar feelings bubbling inside his stomach. “It’s nice to see you again.” Minho seats himself on the barstool next to Jinki after they exchange pleasantries, and there is a sensation of warmth spreading slowly in the older man’s chest that he wasn’t sure was because of Minho or the beer.

An oddly comfortable silence fills the space between them when their eyes meet; Jinki can’t look away even though he knows that he probably should, the back of his neck heating up. Glancing at the four boys singing on stage, Minho’s expression fills with a sense of wistfulness that Jinki doesn’t fail to notice.

“I didn’t know you came here,” the taller begins, “but I guess it’s probably because I haven’t been here in so long.”

Unable to curb his curiousness, Jinki asks, “Why?”

Minho simply shrugs, a small smile on his face as he looks back at Jinki again, and elder pretends that’s not his heart beating so loudly in his ears. “It’s not really a good reason I guess, but someone I once knew used to love coming here to listen to the nine o’clock singer. He said that he made him feel healthy again.”

Jinki stares right back into Minho’s eyes, and his heart is pounding louder than ever. “You mean those boys?”

The younger shakes his head this time. “No, I forget his name, but his voice was beautiful… I think it was Kim Jong-something?”

Turning away, Jinki smiles down at the bar top, letting out a small laugh as he runs his fingers through his dyed blonde locks. Humming, he replies softly, “Yeah, his voice really was something.”

Minho looks surprised. “You know him?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Jinki doesn’t realize that he was unconsciously twisting the gold band on his ring finger until it was too late. Panic spiking his chest, Jinki quickly moves to look back at the younger man to gauge his reaction on Jinki’s uality, but Minho is only smiling at him kindly.

Jinki’s heart flutters again, and he curses internally when he feels his cheeks flush.

~~

On most days, Jinki sang to himself when the apartment felt a little too empty; he would sing loud and clear until his throat felt raw and sometimes he wondered if Jonghyun used to feel like this after a particularly intense performance. He wondered what it would have been like to be on a stage, to see a concert through Jonghyun’s eyes, the spotlights blinding him as he gazed out into the crowd with an optimistic smile. Jinki wondered if it was worth dying for, if Jonghyun regretted the choices he made or if he was content.

Jinki could already feel the tears welling in his eyes when the phone suddenly rang; there was no surprise when it turned out to be Taemin. He’d been calling Jinki on a near-daily basis for the past three years, to make sure his best friend was still alive, that he was taking care of himself okay.

“Hyung,” the younger man’s soft voice poured through the phone, silently begging, as it always seemed to be when it came to Jinki. “Hyung, please, I haven’t seen your face in weeks. Please, please, can we meet up?”

There is a twinge of pain and regret that welled inside Jinki’s heart right then—Taemin did his best to be his pillar of support and all Jinki did in return was make him worry even more―and he smiled wistfully at the wall, the back of his hand running over his eyes. He had to reiterate himself that he didn’t need to suffer alone, that he had people who loved him; that had always been Jonghyun’s job, reminding Jinki that there were others who cared, who actually wanted to help him.

“Okay,” Jinki breathes into the receiver, and he can practically hear Taemin’s sigh of relief through the phone. “Okay, we can meet.”

He was tired of feeling lonely.

~~

Jinki wondered if the hollowness in his chest would ever go away. Taemin had taken him to a party, one full of familiar faces from both his college and high school days. It was a great party—Donghae seemed to have a penchant for throwing first-rate gatherings—but he couldn’t find much enjoyment in it without Jonghyun by his side, laughing a little too loud, mostly drunk and falling over every five steps right into Jinki’s arms.

Taemin was there though, mostly sober and sitting next to him on the sofa, shooting Jinki worried glances whenever he thought the older man wasn’t looking. “Hyung, we can go somewhere else if you want. I thought that you might like seeing some old friends, but you don’t have to if―”

Placing a comforting hand on the younger’s knee, Jinki shakes his head. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m happy.”

The taller man is studying Jinki carefully, as if could assess his happiness level with just his eyes. “Really?” he probes, looking hesitant. “Are yousure?”

Jinki chuckles at the lack of conviction Taemin has in his words. “Yah, Taeminnie―stop worrying about me and go enjoy with everyone else, okay?”

Taemin just shakes his head, resolute. “I wanted to see you, Jinki-hyung. I missed you, not everyone else.”

There is that twinge of sadness spiking Jinki’s chest again, like he’d somehow let his best friend down by keeping to himself for so long. But before he can say anything more, Taemin’s expression brightens up considerably and he abruptly jumps to his feet. Jinki is startled by this sudden reaction, even more so when Taemin stretches out his arms and cries, “Minho! You came!”

Jinki’s attention is quickly ripped from Taemin to the man approaching the sofa, his jaw nearly dropping when he sees that, in fact, this is the sameMinho with whom he bumped into a few nights ago at the bar, and a week before that on the street. Minho is looking at Jinki curiously, a small smile on his face as he returns Taemin’s eager hug.

“Hey, who said you could say my name so informally?” Minho asks Taemin, and the younger just flashes him a mischievous smile.

“Psh, you’re only two years older―I don’t think it really matters.”

Minho scoffs. “Of course it matters!”

Ignoring him, Taemin grabs the taller man’s arm and drags him towards Jinki on the couch. For some reason, Jinki’s heart is thudding rapidly in his chest like it always seemed to around Minho. He also becomes actively conscious of how sweaty his hands are starting to be the closer the other two get, and quickly he crams them into his pockets.

“This hyung is Lee Jinki,” Taemin introduces to Minho. “I’ve known him since before high school. We grew up together.” Minho nods in understanding, eyes never leaving Jinki. He looks close to saying something before Taemin cuts him off, turning to Jinki. “And this is Choi Minho! I met him in my college phycology class a few years ago.”

Jinki’s mouth opens, but his voice fails him, throat unexpectedly dry. He doesn’t understand why he’s being like this—it wasn’t as if they were strangers. However, Minho speaks for him, a smile growing on his face.

“I believe we’ve met before, Lee Jinki-sshi?”

Taemin’s eyes immediately narrow, and he jumps next to Jinki on the couch, clutching his arm protectively. “Hey, don’t try any of your cheesy pick-up lines with my hyung―he’s mine.”

Minho looks at a loss for words, cheeks reddening slightly and large eyes widening even more as he sputters, “I-I wasn’t trying to―”

And now Jinki is laughing, feeling somewhat calmer and rather giddy all of a sudden. His expression is bright as he beams up at Minho. “No, you’re misunderstanding Taeminnie,” he begins, and standing up from the seat, and Jinki holds his hand out for Minho to shake, which the taller receives with a sheepish smile. “We have met before.”

They smile widely at each other, and Jinki doesn’t even notice that they haven’t let go until Taemin is standing between them, giving their joined hands a scrutinizing look. “What’s going on here?” he asks, and both Minho and Jinki recoil as if snapped out of a trance, faces red with embarrassment. In that spur of a moment, Jinki had forgotten all about his sweaty palms and inwardly curses himself for shaking Minho’s hand—what if he thought that Jinki was gross?

They don’t end up talking very long—Minho just moved around here a few days ago and had spent a long, exhausting day unpacking; he needed rest but had decided to indulge Taemin by showing his face at the party for a few minutes―but they end up being too busy exchanging quiet glances and shy smiles as they let Taemin take charge of the conversation that neither notice the intent smirk budding menacingly on the youngest man’s face.

~~

Jinki wonders if Minho had always been this close to him all these years, and that they’ve just been passing each other by because the two of them had been so wrapped up in their own lives to take notice.

“I’m so sorry,” Minho is saying as Jinki serves him tea. The younger receives the mug gratefully, taking a sip just to give him something to do. “Taemin just dragged me out of my place and left me here. He said that you invited me, but clearly this is not the case.”

I’m always home, Jinki thinks, but he laughs in response. Minho’s hair was sticking up on one side and there was still a bit of shaving cream behind his right ear―Taemin really must have rushed him. “Yeah, it’s because we got along in front of him last night. He’s convinced that we have something going on that we’re not telling him, so this is his revenge.”

Minho’s cheeks darken and Jinki finds it refreshing to not be embarrassed for once, but then he reevaluates his own appearance­―an old band shirt and worn-out sweatpants, plus his face probably looked like death because he’d had a grand total of two hours sleep that night―and decides that maybe he’s a little bit self-conscious. Even though the taller man was only half-properly dressed, he still looked handsome―unfortunately, Jinki always felt like he had the similar likeness to a squash whenever he just woke up.

“I wasn’t aware that we had something,” Minho says in response, and Jinki’s stomach does a flip-floppy thing that catches him off-guard. Their eyes meet and the atmosphere grows ten-times weirder than before.

Jinki internally curses at Taemin for making things like this, and completely speechless, the older man isn’t sure what to say. “I―” he begins, but his voice tangles in his throat and they pause for a few more beats, the silence between them incredibly awkward. “We’ve only met three times,” Jinki finally states, and he’s startled that he didn’t deny Minho’s earlier statement.

The younger seems equally as surprised, but a smile pulls at the corners of his lips and something unexpectedly like happiness curls inside Jinki’s chest.

“Four, if you count this one.”

Because once was more than enough for it to work.

~~

Months later, Jinki finds himself sitting at the booth where Jonghyun had proposed to him.

He’s still wearing the ring―he doesn’t really ever plan to take it off­―but this time he has the velvet box, too. It’s placed carefully on the smooth table, the soft lighting of the lamp making the shade of red seem deeper in the dim surroundings. If he stares hard enough at the box, Jinki can imagine Jonghyun sitting across from him through his peripheral vision, a smile in place at he fondly watches Jinki.

Jinki doesn’t really feel sad anymore, just more thoughtful than anything else. He realizes that keeping to himself those years after Jonghyun died hadn’t really done anything for him but make him feel even more depressed and lonely.

“Jinki!” a familiar voice calls him, and Jinki smiles when he turns to see Minho waving at him from a few meters away. Jinki only hesitates for a beat before he stands up and leaves the box where it sat in the middle of the table, walking over to the younger man and letting himself be enveloped in a long-limbed embrace.

“So you actually made it!” he teases Minho, who gives him a goofy smile as they walk out of Amber’s bar. “What, did you tell the other staff that you have a hot date and they just let their precious Dr. Choi go?”

“Of course,” Minho tells him, draping his arm around Jinki’s shoulder and pulling him close. “I’m the boss so they have to listen to me.” He presses a kiss to the corner of older man’s mouth; it’s indulgent and sweet, the tingling sensation making Jinki feel more than a little lightheaded.

Jinki climbs into the passenger side of Minho’s sleek black convertible, and is startled out of buckling his seatbelt when Minho yelps in surprise after jumping into the seat behind the wheel. “What happened? What’s wrong?” Jinki probes, concerned.

The younger just shakes his head, lifting his hips to reach into his back pocket. “Nothing, just something in my pocket,” Minho replies. “I didn’t even know I had something in there…” When he pulls out a familiar small, red box, Jinki’s heart skips a few beats. “What’s this?” the younger inquires, studying the box.

When Jinki looks up, he thinks he sees Jonghyun snickering at them a little ways off on the sidewalk; there is another man next to him dressed in a hospital gown who is clutching his stomach with his head thrown back because of how hard he was laughing. Jinki is so stunned that he can’t bring himself to say a word even when he makes eye contact with Jonghyun, whose smile simply brightens as he gives Jinki a slight nod, and then just as suddenly, the two men disappear right before his eyes.

Slowly, he glances over at Minho, who is now turning the box over in his hands as he studies it interestedly, saying something about not knowing where it came from. Grinning, Jinki takes the box from Minho only to entwine their fingers together, pulling the younger close to share another kiss.

He wonders if that was Jonghyun’s way of telling him that everything would be alright from now on.

And when Minho beams into the kiss, Jinki realizes that maybe―just maybe―he agrees with him.

~fin.

a/n: this took entirely too long to finish and i am sorry. but still, i hope you all liked it~ ^u^ thank you all for reading and encouraging me to write this sequel! i would never have done it otherwise lol.