This is really stupid, Yongguk muses. It’s really stupid and impulsive and he’s going to regret it a million times over. But it’s the right thing to do. The thing he has to do for everyone’s sake. Especially Junhong’s. There’s no sense in living a lie any more. Yongguk can’t keep it up, it’s exhausting. And he knows Junhong will be better off in the long run, too.

Daehyun wordlessly hands him the box with his cufflinks in it, his lips tightened in a tense but false smile. Yongguk knows this is hard for everyone, but he appreciates the support just the same. He sets the cufflinks on the counter in front of him and fiddles with his bowtie for a few more moments, hands shaky and sweaty. Eventually, Daehyun sighs, rolls his eyes, and bats Yongguk’s hands out of the way.

“You always were hopeless with these things,” he says with a wry smirk, as he perfects the bow in about half a second. It’s the kind of almost-smile that tells Yongguk things will be okay between them again. Eventually.

Jongup and Himchan burst in about five minutes late, Jongup with a carafe of fair-trade coffee and Himchan babbling about how the barista had gotten coffee all over his Alexander McQueen suit jacket and just how hard it was to get the coffee back out because ‘he would see Yongguk married in nothing less than McQueen, and it was touching in an annoying sort of way.

At least Himchan was happy for him.

Jongup wasn’t saying a whole lot, but that was par for the course. He’d been taking a lot of information in over the last few months. Witnessed his fair share of fights and arguments and tears and hell, even the dissolve of their band, since the CEO himself had gotten wind of the goings on between the six of them and said they ‘Couldn’t go on like this’.

“Where’s Youngjae?” Yongguk asks, knowing better than to even mention Junhong at this point.

“On his way,” Daehyun said, tapping away on the touch screen of his phone, “Said something about the floral arrangements having the wrong type of lilly, and him having to name-drop with the owner of the store to get everything sorted out. He’s such a girl about some things, I swear.”

And for a moment, it’s like B.A.P’s still together, like they’re all tense and frenetic before a performance, bustling and amped up and terrified and full of dread and panicking because one of them still isn’t there, but.

It’s not ever going to be the same.

They can’t be like that ever again, not for a very long time, at least. And Yongguk knows the blame in that lies with him. If he hadn’t done what he did, they’d still be together as six, properly, but as it stands, it’s just four of them buzzing around chaotically and one of them feeling as though his heart is about to burst from his chest.

And Junhong. He can’t bear to think about Junhong, not right now, but he can’t help it. His heart is beating double time. He’s scared to death. He feels, vaguely, like he’s going to black out, but then Youngjae is there, and they’re herding him out of the dressing room and down the hall.

He wonders, if he hadn’t decided to go through with this, what would’ve happened? Would they still be performing, promoting, practicing? In constant motion? Because, for the last few weeks, despite the business of preparing his wedding (which, for some reason, Youngjae took almost absolute control over the moment it was announced), Yongguk’s had nothing but time to think. And he hates it. He hates second guessing himself, hates feeling so full of fear and regret.

There’s no real use in looking back, though.

As the four guide him to the doors of the chapel, he feels lightheaded, but he presses on. Daehyun’s hand is on the small of his back, and he gives him a slight smile and whispers, “No backing out now, alright man? You can do this.”

Yongguk’s not so sure, but Daehyun’s faith in him despite everything nearly makes him cry.

They’re so close they can hear the faint din of rushed and excited voices and Yongguk realizes the entire wedding party is on the other side of the door. His family, his friends from his Soul Connection days, everyone save for… well, he’s not supposed to think about him any more.

And he can honestly do this, he can. He can take this step forward and not look back and just. Keep moving. Have a family and live a normal life just like everyone else. Daehyun’s right. He can do this. He’s got his boys by his side.

If only they hadn’t gotten caught…

He shakes his head and wills Junhong away from his mind. He’s doing the right thing. Doing. The. Right. Thing. Jongup and Youngjae each take hold of a door in the chapel’s wide doorway and pull, and Yongguk is consumed by a bright light, in by all the chatter going quiet, doing all he can not to shut his eyes and plug his ears as he makes his way down the aisle, the click of shoes on the marble behind him (Himchan’s Loubotin’s, probably) is the only comfort in it all. He’s not alone. He can do this.

The chapel is beautiful, an old but large building, one of the oldest Christian places of worship in all of Seoul. The stained glass windows depict the story of Genesis, the creation of Earth, of Adam and Eve. It’s almost ironic. The pews are heavy mahogany and the floor is greyed marble, and he almost finds the aesthetics alone calming. He only recognizes a vague handful of people as he makes his way. There was a lot of buzz about him in the past few months, so many of the people he thought he was close to - probably wisely - declined the invitation, some of them sending him notes of support anyway. He sees his old manager and his fiancee, and they both smile and wave as if nothing’s wrong.

His family is in one of the closest pews, his sister giving him a nod with her arm curled around her boyfriend’s forearm absentmindedly. Her pale pink dress a stark contrast to her tanned, tattooed skin. His brother has a girl on his arm that Yongguk doesn’t recognize, but that doesn’t surprise him. And his parents, father stoic as ever, mother dabbing at her already damp eyes in such a way that it doesn’t ruin her makeup.

Yongguk’s not even sure he wants to know why she’s crying.

The amount of A-Listers in the turnout today honestly surprises him a little. He expected it to be fewer. He expected everything to be fewer. But even people from different record labels showed up, looking glamourous despite their back row seating and looking for all the world like they were scheduled for a photoshoot in just the spot they’d assumed.

The unwarranted support of these people comforts him a little, too.

He feels his boys - his men, really - fall into place beside him, and breathes out slowly, attempting to calm himself down. No reason to freak out. Everything will be fine in the end. Everything will go back to normal, eventually. Everyone will calm down and find new things to talk about and he will learn to be happy with decision.

The pastor is already there, and he looks like a pastor should, white and gold robe and adornments not at all out of place on his wrinkly, sage body. He gives Yongguk a wink of encouragement, and Yongguk feels his entire body heat up as he glances away, embarrassed.

His eyes find the stained glass windows again, and he tries desperately to ignore the deafening silence screaming into his ears.

The chapel doors open again, slowly, and Yongguk feels his heart pounding. He knows he should look, but he can’t help but feel like he’ll shatter if he does. The silence is replaced by a small outbreak of murmurs, exclamations quickly silenced by the older people in the crowd. The clack of shoes on tile. And then.

“Hey,” the voice is quiet, just as trembly and tense as Yongguk feels, and he hasn’t even looked yet, but he feels the hot tears filling his eyes, can feel them sliding down his face to a chorus of ‘awww’s somewhere in the pews.

He manages a smile as he looks down, locks eyes with the person he’s about to spend the rest of his life with.

“Hey, I mean, h-hi, hello, yeah,” he sputters, and Junhong can’t help but laugh at him, loud and shrill, part of the crowd laughing along with him.

Yongguk feels his hands stop sweating the minute Junhong’s hands lace into them.

There’s a rustle of paper behind them as the pastor clears his throat and begins, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

Junhong squeezes, and more tears spill over, even as Yongguk laughs.

This really is the right thing.