Luhan headed to his college the moment he got off the plane. He was a full week late for the thirty-fifth reunion of his graduating class, so he didn’t recognize any of the people walking on the college campus. Even the gates at the entrance of the college were different, Luhan observed as he stepped out of the taxi, but the fields were still pretty much the same. Beijing as a whole had changed over the decades that he’d gone, but he could still remember walking down these very streets.

That was the tree where he used to study under. The bench wasn’t there anymore, and there were flowers in the grass now. That was the lake where Luhan used to jog around in the morning; those were the trees from which they would hang hammocks during the lazy weekend afternoons. There were still a few hammocks now. Luhan almost wished he had one with him. This was the place where he had fallen in love with Minseok, a little more each afternoon, with the bright smiles and cheerful laughter.

Luhan wandered to the edge of the lake and sat down in the sand. The sand was new, the tiny particles clinging to the fabric of his jeans. It was relaxing, just sitting in the warm sand and feeling the breeze combing through his hair.

“Are you here for vacation too?”

Luhan shifted as someone sat down in the sand beside him. “Some vacation place, huh?”

“It’s the memories,” the man said, and for the first time, Luhan turned his head to really look at him. “They make this place… beautiful.” Then he turned and smiled, eyes crinkling from age-inflicted wrinkles, once-dark hair sprinkled with silver strands.

Maybe, just maybe, Luhan had never really gotten over him, but he already knew that. He just didn’t expect to fall more in love with him. “Beautiful,” he echoed, the Mandarin syllables rolling off his tongue with familiar precision.

“Is my Chinese still good?” the man asked, the smile still playing on his lips.

“What are you doing here, Xiumin?” Luhan said softly, almost afraid to ask.

“The same as you, I think. Visiting the past.”

There was a silence, but this was a calm silence, a familiar blanket that had settled over them again. Distance had destroyed them and their best days were stolen, but the fact that they were still here had to mean something. It seemed wrong, anyway, to disturb the ghosts of the past with their own misgivings.

“How are the kids?” Minseok asked, and it sounded just like the times that he would say, “How long until we get married and have kids?”

“They’re great,” Luhan said. (“Very soon.”) “Junmyeon just got married.” (“Let’s get married tomorrow.”) “They’re both happy.” (“Let’s have two kids.”)

“That’s good. How long are you going to be here?”

“The rest of the week. You?” Are you okay? Luhan was tempted to ask, but he didn’t.

“Probably longer. I have business here. Have you forgotten much about Beijing?” Have you forgotten about us?

The warm sand particles shifted smoothly beneath Luhan’s fingers. “A little.” Kind of.

“Would you like a guide around the city?” Minseok smiled, almost brighter than the sun, like he was asking, Would you like me to remind you?

Luhan smiled back. “If it’s not too much trouble.” If you’d like to try again.

“Let’s get going.” Minseok stood, dusting the sand off his pants and stretching out his hand. It’s never too late.

Luhan accepted the hand. It was uncanny, how well their fingers still fit together. Years ago, when they had graduated, they had stood at this very place, holding hands with the cold metal of their rings brushing against warm skin. The rings were no longer there, and the backs of their hands were more wrinkled now, but they were still here, and that mattered.

“Do you think the bar’s still there?”

Minseok laughed softly. “Aren’t you too old to be drinking?”

“Never.”

They ended up just walking by the bar, which was surprisingly still there. It was the place that they’d visit after a long school week. That was the corner where Luhan had once vomited. That was the wall where they had shared so many drunken kisses. Inside, there were many young adults enjoying their time, but they walked on with a passing smile. It was close to dinnertime now, and the streets were crowded as the night life began.

“Are you planning on going to the Great Wall or the Forbidden Palace?” Minseok asked as they walked slowly through the crowd.

Luhan shook his head, absorbing the familiar atmosphere around him. “I didn’t come as a tourist.”

“Are you too old to be drinking by the river?”

Luhan laughed. “Of course not.”

So they walked into a convenience store and bought two bottles of peer juice (ten yuan, Luhan noted idly as Minseok handed the bills to the cashier). This was the very store where they would buy beer on a nice weekend evening. They walked down the same street together, hands brushing as they stood close in the crowded streets.

The soft grass on the shores of the river were replaced by concrete, but they sat down anyway.

It was quieter here, so Luhan could almost pretend that no time had gone by. The pear juice wasn’t as bitter as the beer they used to drink, but it also wasn’t as warm.

There were nights decades ago when they would hold hands, laughing into the evening air.

“Have you been well?” Minseok asked. His voice was soft and soothing, a welcome replacement for the harsh words over the phone.

“Yeah.” Luhan picked at the wrapper around the bottle. “I didn’t want the money. I just wanted an excuse to…” He swallowed, the unspoken words hanging in the air. To hear you. The tremble in his hand was similar to the tremor that bothered him the day of their first confessions.

“I wanted to go back, but I guess I never found the time.”

There were still many what if’s in their voices, but there would be time for that later. Luhan raised his bottle of juice with a smile. “Toast?”

“To better years,” Minseok said, tapping the mouths of their bottles together.

We’ve learned that love isn’t enough to keep us together, but it’s never too late to go back.

They met sporadically over the following week, finding time between Minseok’s business meetings.

“I got transferred here,” Minseok explained over coffee the next morning. “So make sure to bring the kids to see me.”

“Of course,” Luhan said, smiling at Minseok over his cup.

Sometimes, they explored the city slowly, stopping by at places they used to visit when they were college students with dreams larger than the world. There was the building where they would play pool during weekend evenings, and there was the little store that sold the best noodles around.

“It’s still the best,” Minseok proclaimed, raising his chopsticks to enunciate his sentence.

Those were moments when they could pretend that decades hadn't already passed. It was like they had gone back several stages, when they would hesitate in holding hands and leave an awkward margin of space whenever they sat together.

Sometimes, Luhan worried that it was just a break in the storm. It was easier, though, to pretend that those sleepless nights hadn't happened.

It would be every bit as real as he wanted it to be, and he only knew that, even after so long, he’d never quite managed to forget Minseok.

“Do you remember this place?”

Luhan stopped, looking at their surroundings. They often took long walks into the night, to places familiar and unfamiliar. They’d ended up somewhere that vaguely resembled a park. He remembered that bench, made of stone and withstanding the trials of nature, but some of the trees were new. “Yeah,” he answered, staring into Minseok’s eyes.

This was the place where Minseok had proposed, where they’d promised that they would be together forever.

They were there again, but now, the dreams of youth had faded and there were no promises of forever, no rings to seal their vows.

“Last time we were here,” Minseok began, then broke off, turning to take Luhan’s hand. “Do you still love me?”

I don’t want to, Luhan remembered screaming into the phone. Instead, he nodded, feeling the comforting warmth of Minseok’s hand against his own.

“Me too,” Minseok said softly, raising his other hand to Luhan’s cheek. The question was obvious in his eyes, quickly replaced by adoration and confidence. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Luhan’s, soft but firm.

It had been years since they’d last done this, so long that Luhan had nearly forgotten the feel of Minseok’s lips against his own. Yet they still seemed to fit perfectly, like two fragments of a nearly forgotten memory.

Minseok stepped back with a breathless laugh, lips a sweet red under the moonlight. “Let’s try again?”

They used to joke about this: kissing when they were old and wrinkly, when they had no one left but each other.

“It sounds gross,” Luhan had confessed, grinning when Minseok kissed his fingertips to retaliate.

“But you still love me,” Minseok had said, back when they’d thought that would be enough. “Do you think we will?”

He should have asked, “Do you think we’ll last that long?”

Luhan couldn’t remember his reply then, but there was only ever one. He squeezed Minseok’s hand and smiled in return. “Yes.” (Only now, it was in the present tense, not the future tense.)

So maybe they didn’t become old and sappy together, but they were old and sappy together.

The best advice I have is don’t focus on the materialistic parts of life.

We’ve been told that love comes and goes.

I guess fate is the only one that wins in the end.

The ghosts of the past still lived in Beijing, and Luhan was tempted to just stay forever, remain in a world where he could afford to be happy every day.

The tickets printed in black ink and the texts that he received on the crappy hotel Wi-Fi, however, reminded him that he couldn’t stay.

Minseok insisted on sending Luhan, driving his own car to the airport. “You have to remember to visit,” he said, handing Luhan his suitcase.

“I’ll bring the kids,” Luhan promised, trying to smile, but failing horribly.

They stood at the entrance of the airport awkwardly, frozen and looking into each other’s eyes as people around them moved hurriedly.

“Take care,” Minseok said softly, breaking the silence.

“You too.” Luhan waved as Minseok walked back towards his car, and he started dragging his suitcase into the airport. They didn’t make any promises this time, but that was okay because fate, at least, had been kind enough to grant them this opportunity.

They didn’t know what was going to happen, but they did know that nothing was temporary. Maybe distance would tear them apart again, maybe they’d forget in the midst of their busy lives. They would still have the memories, however, and those, at least, would last a lifetime.

Luhan smiled as he looked up at the dim morning sky through the large glass windows, watching as Beijing slowly awoke to another eventful day.

He sent a text to Junmyeon and Jongdae, assuring them that he was in the airport and would return home soon. He checked his luggage in and passed through security, then followed the signs to the appropriate terminal. It would probably be a long time until he would see the familiar Chinese characters again and hear the soothing hum of Mandarin around him.

He got on the plane as the sun’s rays spread across the horizon, coloring hope across the clean slate of another day.

A/N: Congrats for making it to the end! Comments and votes are greatly appreciated.