Late fall, 2012

Haha’s wedding. Haha’s wedding. Kim Jong Kook still can’t believe this is happening. He’s at Haha’s wedding.

The atmosphere is lively and fun and happy, the hall overflowing with celebrities and family and friends. Jong Kook keeps an easy smile on his lips as he interacts with his Running Man castmates and others in the industry.

“Of course, at first, I felt betrayed,” he tells the rest of his table, and shrugs. “All of the single guys on Running Man, we’ve all spent time together and talked about our ideas and hopes for marriage and the future, and it turns out that during a lot of that time, Haha wasn’t on the same page as the rest of us. It hurt, I admit it. I couldn’t even eat when he announced his marriage.”

He laughs softly, remembering.

“But he’s so happy. And I’m so happy for him. The shock made me act poorly at first, and I’m embarrassed about that, but I’m nothing but thrilled for Haha and Byul,” he finishes, taking a sip of his water and gazing across the room at the happy couple. They’re practically glowing as they make their way around the room, interacting with all the guests there to celebrate with them.

He watches them, of two minds about the situation like always. Like he said, of course he’s happy for his friend. And his friend’s new wife. It’s true that it took some time to set the hurt aside, but guilt over his struggle to be happy for Haha rushed that feeling away. It’s not that he’s not happy.

He just wishes it was him. He can do that, right? He can be pleased for his friend’s success but still wish it was his, can’t he?

He scowls, looking down at his glass as he clutches it more tightly. It would be so much easier to be nothing but happy if he’d never gone back to that house out there in the middle of nowhere. If he just let time push the fragments of memories further and further away instead of finding out what was in store for his future.

Or, more aptly, not in store for his future.

When he left Ji Ji Min’s that night, his mind was in a whirl. He was going to be alone. Forever. There was no one coming. Not a soul mate or anything else. And here she was, offering him a way to change all that. And her cost seemed so low.

But Jong Kook remembers Haha’s behavior that night. How he got stiff and angry when the conversation approached anything even hinting at the extra “services” the mysterious woman could provide. How he stormed out of the room before he even found out that Jong Kook and his soul mate would never even meet each other. Something about Ji Min’s weird smile and Haha’s tense reactions spun him away from taking her up on her offer.

Something wasn’t right there. There had to be something more, some catch, something he wasn’t understanding. All of the evidence pointed to something much more sinister than just wanting to get two perfect lovebirds together. And then when he went back and he found out what she could offer him…  he had to leave. He forced himself to leave. Just the word the fortune teller used - break - it felt like his body had been dropped into a bath full of ice. Could he do that? To another person? No. No. And so, despite a sharp emptiness screaming in his chest, he had turned and walked out.

Noble idiot. He snorts, remembering.

It’s not like he stayed gone, though. No, he was back at that little house the next week. And the week after. And two weeks after that, and then twice the week after that. At first it was awkward and he stood in the doorway, shuffling his feet, ready to turn and bolt back to his car at the slightest twitch of an eyebrow from Ji Min.

But she didn’t twitch. She didn’t twitch anything. She just pulled the door wider and stood back to let him pass, waiting calmly and patiently as he stumbled over his words and tried to explain why he was back again. The next time was easier. And easier still after that. He’d knock on the door, she’d let him in, and they’d proceed directly down the short hallway and into the wide open space behind the door, a space that was becoming more comfortable than disorienting.

It’s not that he changed his mind, or even come close, really. It’s that… taking a peek in on her (that’s how he thinks of her… just as her) made him feel less lonely sometimes. Knowing that he’s alone and that he’s going to stay that way, well. It’s been a bitter pill to swallow. His castmates still about being single and when he’ll eventually settle down. Interviewers always ask him what he’s looking for in a woman, who he’s dating or has dated, and when wedding bells might be in store for him. It’s like death by a thousand papercuts. No one slice is critical, but they keep building and building and building.

Stopping by to peek in on her has been comforting. At least there’s someone out there for him. He’s never going to meet her, they’re never going to be together, but there is someone. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with him. It’s not that he doesn’t know what women want, it’s not that he’s incapable of getting a woman to stay. It’s just an accident of fate, a stupid blip, geography, even, that stands in his way. He’s not doomed to be alone because of some fatal flaw in his romantic abilities. There is someone. She’s just not here.

He saw a lot in those visits. Nothing remarkable or extraordinary, but just a lot of another person living her life. Little clips of daily minutiae. Putting on shoes over bright, fluorescent stripey socks. Driving, staring down a highway, for long periods of time. Shopping for food. Cooking food. Jong Kook remembers the day he visited the fortune teller to check in on her to find her t the fat off an enormous pile of chicken s. He smiled the whole rest of the night after that one.

And laughing. Always laughing. That crazy, kind of annoying, super loud laugh he can hear echo in his head whenever he wants. And sometimes when he doesn't want.

In between visits, he’d been surprisingly okay. After the initial slap of hurt, anyway. Something about those visions in the fortune teller’s darkened back room has sustained him. If he thinks about it too long, he knows it’s strange, creepy, even, to be spying on a stranger’s life, but he rationalizes it away. He’s not hurting anything or anyone. He’s just reminding himself that she’s there. That she’s for him. Every visit buoyed his spirits enough to make it through another round of teasing, another interview, another bout of speculation on his love life or lack thereof.

But he hasn’t been back in over a month now. He and Ji Min don’t talk much anymore when he visits, he just follows her back and she fires up her woo woo business. He watches silently for a while, then nods to the fortune teller and leaves. She doesn’t offer anything and she doesn’t push him, but he knows she’s just waiting. She thinks that his repeated visits are a sign of him getting closer and closer to taking her deal. They’re not, but he realized he had to cut back anyway. That it was bordering on obsessive and unhealthy. He’s been working on a way to preserve his feelings of security and comfort in the face of years of lonely nights to come, a way that doesn’t involve being a weird, spectral peeping Tom.

It’s sort of working. Almost. He’s never been in better shape, anyway, since his main form of distraction is the gym and he’s hardly left it outside of working this last month or so.

He brings himself back to the present. Haha and Byul are approaching his table where only he remains, the rest of the guest assigned to those seats off dancing, drinking, and socializing.

“Hyung!” Haha bellows raspily. His entire face is consumed by his unerasable grin, eyes continually darting to his new bride. Byul has her hand tucked in the crook of her arm and looks just as deliriously happy.

“Hey, congratulations!” Jong Kook smiles sincerely and stands to hug each of them in turn. “This is all really great, really beautiful.”

Haha doesn’t answer, just turns adoring eyes toward his wife.

“Thank you, Jong Kook,” Byul answers for both of them. “And thank you so much for coming.”

“Of course! Like I would ever miss such an enormous and frankly, unlikely event in Dong Hoon’s li