"All That's Left Behind" [1/1]
Title: All That's Left Behind [1/1]
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin
Genre: AU, drama/romance
Warnings: None
Summary: Sometimes, life works in strange ways. Or sometimes, it works in just the right way.
A/N: For yuxo
"Okay, let's wrap it up!"
Japanese still sounded foreign to his ears, although he'd lived in the country several years now. Working in Japan made life interesting, if difficult. Homesickness hit him at the rarest of times nowadays, whenever he was doing mundane things.
Like drinking sake at an after party. Wishing it was soju and that the words spilling out of his lips weren't half sentences that made little sense.
Or flipping through channels on the small television in his box-like apartment and wondering what was airing on television back home. The latest development to his favourite Korean drama.
Listening to the music blasting from shops as he walked down the street from his apartment to the studio, the high-pitched girly voices or deep throaty metallic growls making him edge away if he stood in one spot for too long. Turning on his ipod to listen to the more familiar hip hop beats and soulful voices settling his nerves and adding a spring to his step.
Now, he was used to tatami mats that lined his floor, the futon he laid out every night and bundled into the closet every morning, Japanese curry he had every Thursday night, the pretty Japanese girls with their bleached hair piled atop their heads and the short Japanese businessmen scurrying to and fro all over the city, and all their rather horrible looking teeth.
Now, he zipped up his winter jacket and grabbed his bag, wondering when he should call home tonight. He was due for another short vacation break soon, for Christmas, although dancers like him rarely had such breaks. Still, three days. Back in Japan before the 25th and back on stage as another anonymous body behind the real star of the night. Three days and two nights. He should be grateful though - the dancers who still had trouble with the routine didn't even get that much.
"Yunho-kun!"
"Hello," he greeted the older man, pasting on the polite smile he was used to wearing everywhere he went. "Shinya-san."
"Still so formal?" He could recognize the teasing tone and he grinned, shaking his head.
"I'm too used to it," he answered, fidgeting with the bag hanging over his shoulder. He knew the way he spoke was too polite for someone his age when addressing someone that was Shinya's age, but he figured it was better to be too polite than to be impolite.
Shinya accepted that explanation, a familiar conversation the two often had. "Where are you off to?"
"I'm going back to Korea for the break so I need to start packing tonight. Do you need me for something?"
"Well, it's our last practice until Christmas. Come out with us! We're going to that new restaurant down the street. You know what that means!" An arm was flung around his shoulder and he laughed.
"I shouldn't," he said uncertainly, glancing at the door. His flight was tomorrow at noon and he still had yet to drop his key off with his landlord and inform his neighbours of his trip -
"Yunho!"
Lee Hyukjae, the only other Korean in their group, bounded up next to them. "You're going tonight, aren't you?"
"I have to pack, Hyukjae - "
"Come on!" There was that ear splitting grin that was characteristic of him. "- And you're going away so we should all celebrate - "
"Hey hey, let the man decide!" Shinya pulled Hyukjae back, his enthusiasm making the Japanese man laugh. "You might scare him off instead!"
"I shouldn't," Yunho repeated, not without a hint of regret. "My flight is early and being hungover isn't the best thing to be when getting on a plane. Will they let me on the plane?"
Hyukjae and Shinya glanced at each other and shrugged.
"I'll stay home and pack and get a good night's sleep. You all have fun without me. I'll celebrate after the Christmas concert," he promised, referring to the concert of a popular Japanese artist they were going to dance for. He was looking forward to the after-party already. Tonight, however, was not a good night to get drunk.
After exchanging other such pleasantries and wishing him a good trip, Shinya ambled off to rejoin the other dancers, leaving Yunho and Hyukjae alone. They watched him go before turning back to each other.
"Are you sure? You seem kind of - "
"It's fine," Yunho interrupted, the words coming easier now that they were speaking in Korean.
"You know," he began, hesitating, "you can talk to me if you're remembering too much. Or if you miss Korea and the people there." This did not take him by surprise since it wasn't the first time he'd offered, though in more subtle ways in the past.
"Thank you," he said honestly.
"Because," Hyukjae laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, "a couple of expats like us need to stick together. Shinya sshi is nice and all, and so are the others but..."
He nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "But it's not the same. I appreciate it, Hyukjae. I'll see you and everyone else on Christmas day."
A strangely knowing look flitted past Hyukjae's face and then he left him alone, joining the large party that was just leaving. Yunho waited until they had all filed past him and they'd wished each other the appropriate 'happy holidays' and 'have a safe trip' and 'don't get so drunk you can't walk straight!' Yunho was ready to head home himself.
Just as he was about to leave, one of the managers shoved a brown package into Yunho's hands. The studio's address was written in neat characters. Yunho's own name was written in Korean in brackets next to the katakana version of it. The writing was familiar, though he couldn't place it. There was no return address, as if the sender didn't care whether it made it into his hands. He stared questioningly at the manager.
"Actually, it came a long time ago but we kept forgetting to give it to you," he explained, looking mildly apologetic. "Just cleaned up the office and found it sitting in a pile of dust behind the cabinet. Maybe they mailed it here because they didn't know your personal address."
"That's okay. Thanks, happy Christmas."
Yunho stuffed it into his bag without much thought to it. If it was from Korea, it was probably his parents or old friends - but it wasn't a priority. He took his time heading home.
This time of year saw his part of the city alight with holiday cheer. It was evening and that meant couples were mingling all along the street and snow was drifting slowly to the ground. It was beautiful and picturesque.
"Way to feel sorry for yourself," he muttered to himself, staring upwards as he waited for the light to change. The weather wasn't too cold yet - at least, he wasn't shivering madly underneath his jacket - but how cliché was it to feel lonely amidst the love in the air? Even Valentines Day didn't make him feel this way - because V-day was a commercialized holiday for straight people and Yunho neither liked chocolate and manufactured heart-shaped boxes nor was he (completely) straight.
But Christmas, a holiday that should consist of a date with your significant other and strolling through the crowded streets and then exchanging gifts and perhaps even a kiss before the giant Christmas tree set up in the center of the city (according to the Japanese anyway, he thought wryly), reminded him of sipping tea at the dead of night because neither of them could sleep and watching the snow drift down from the window. It also reminded him of the tiny Christmas tree that had sat in the corner of their apartment in Korea, the one that glimmered and sang cheesy Christmas songs all throughout the day if he turned it on - the one that made Changmin turn to him in despair and offer him a kiss in that stoic way of his if Yunho would shut the damn thing off before I throw it out the window.
The tightness in his chest had nothing to do with missing him, he told himself fervently, and after eating a quick dinner at a small ramen shop, he trooped home. Removing his boots at the doorway and dumping his bag onto the ground, he switched on the light. The apartment was familiar to him now, every little space and corner. At night, when he tried to fall asleep amidst the absolute darkness, he could admit that it never felt like Home. But at this point in his life, he had trouble trying to decide what Home was. He'd accepted that long ago.
Packing and doing some last minute cleaning occupied his thoughts and time for the rest of the night and when he rolled out his futon and climbed in, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
And if he woke up the next morning, before the sun had fully climbed up into the sky, with his eyes stiff from the tears that had dried and memories of dreams, snippets he could only half-remember nowadays but nonetheless knew would stay with him for the rest of his life, well, it was as much a part of his life now as Japan was.
He forgot about the package.
~*~*~
Ten years ago (it felt like an eternity), he was a romantic at heart. Having endured the mockery of those who knew did not deter him from his quest in seeking a happy, fulfilling, and above all, romantic relationship to share with that special someone.
But first and foremost, Yunho was a dancer.
During high school, he'd made his mark as the one who joined all the talent shows and competitions without fail. It wasn't the fact that he won a few and lost a few; he'd always believed that all of it contributed to a sort of journey he was embarking on. Maybe dancing wasn't the most financially stable dream to pursue and maybe his family didn't quite approve of it but it was what he loved.
Let it be known that nothing could deter Yunho from doing what he loved, in any way, shape, or form. The very fact that he was currently sitting at a club instead of at his evening class was proof enough of that.
"Relax, Yunho! People skip class all the time!"
Let it also be known that Yunho did not broke rules without much trepidation beforehand no matter what reason he did it for.
He sighed. "This had better be worth it, Donghae."
"I've been planning this showcase for ages," the cheeky man said, grinning with confidence as he downed a glass of coke. The bleached blonde atop his head contrasted sharply with the black at the back of his head. Beneath the spinning lights that made the room glow and made Yunho dizzy, Donghae and his shimmery leather jacket seemed all the more dramatic. "You'll love it."
"Well, I'm sure I will," he eyed the stage and the DJ stand being prepared, "the performers are from your club, right?"
"Not my club," Donghae answered and slung an arm over his shoulders. He pointed at someone off to the distance. "That's Shin Donghee, he's the president. I've told you before, haven't I?" The man Yunho's attention was now directed towards threw his head back and let out a bellow of laughter.
"Too many times."
"Hey!"
Yunho grinned; rubbing the shoulder Donghae had just landed a punch on.
"You should just join. I don't even know what's holding you back."
"I promised my dad. Didn't we have this discussion in our first year - "
"It's your last year now, Yunho," his friend sighed and dropped onto the bar stool next to him. "We could really use you."
"You've got a great team without me," he said, smiling at the small group that was beginning to congregate at the side of the stage. The crowd was small but so was the room and the cheering was escalating. It was almost show time.
Donghae laughed. "Well I can't deny that - we got an amazing first-year a couple months ago and she's already opening this event. But that doesn't mean one good dancer cancels out another!"
"Who?"
"The girl folding herself in half against the wall in the corner there? Kim Hyoyeon."
He watched as the girl stretched, watched as she slid smoothly onto stage with a certain flair in her step, a mischievous smile on her face, and a flick to her long curled blonde hair - he could already tell that was going to be a signature of hers.
"Sure it doesn't," he said to Donghae's last statement without taking his eyes off from the stage, "but it means you guys don't need me."
The lights were dimming now and the spotlight swivelled crazily until it centered upon the girl, who got into position with her back facing the crowd. She snapped her fingers and the sounds blazed through the room, assaulting Yunho's ear with the beats he was familiar with. Lived for.
She moved, each shift of her body strong and precise. Hyoyeon didn't try too hard to be sexy - it seemed she was aware that her small frame didn't lend much to sensuality. Instead, it gave her the impression of girlish meekness - despite appearances of her wild hair and bright eyes - which she quickly dispelled with the aggression of her dancing. It was powerful and she was undoubtedly skilled.
Donghae noticed it before he did. "You think she's hot?"
He turned horrified eyes at him. "She's looks eighteen!"
"She is eighteen."
"No, Donghae, I don't think she's hot. She's very good. You definitely don't need me."
"Yunho!" Donghae opened his mouth to protest further but a shout of his name diverted his attention and with a look promising the subject would be brought up again, he was off. Yunho watched him weaving through the crowd.
He turned back to Hyoyeon. She was popping now and controlled her body with ease, letting the music take over. The grin on her face was almost blinding - she was a kindred soul, he decided, someone who loved dancing for the sake of it. All eyes were on her.
If one ill-fitting young man sitting several stools behind Yunho had gone unnoticed that night, nobody in that room would've felt inclined to point that out. Yunho wouldn't have turned around and instead, would've probably left after another hour of sitting aimlessly by himself, sipping the same drink. Perhaps he would've occasionally greeted the people he was familiar with, those in the university's dance club that he'd both interacted often with and avoided joining for the last four years.
Life had an interesting way of connecting people and then screwing them over for life, so as Shim Changmin stood up to walk past Yunho, drink in hand, he inadvertently spilled the entire thing on him.
They stared at each other. Yunho was quick to notice the shaggy haircut, soft eyes, razor sharp cheekbones, and the small pouting mouth. Even in the dim lighting, he could tell the boy - man, really - was painfully good looking. There was something about those eyes -
"Um - "
"I didn't mean to - "
"It's okay - "
"Napkin?"
Yunho accepted it wearily and tried to dab at the wet spots decorating his red jacket. His favourite, too. "Was that rum and coke?" It was a silly question, because the smell answered it for him.
"I can wash it for you," Changmin said uncertainly, eyeing the stains.
"What am I going to wear home tonight then?" Yunho asked simply. It was not an accusatory question but the reminder that it was the middle of winter and he was going to freeze to death with the thin shirt he'd worn, believing his thicker jacket would protect him from the cold. Otherwise he would've worn a sweater underneath. Curse his short-lived vanity.
Changmin sighed and slid into the seat previously occupied by Donghae, slumping a little. "What do you suggest?"
"I don't know," he muttered, still wiping futilely. Good looking or not, he didn't like the idea of letting him off for ruining his jacket.
"We could go to my residence and I'll lend you something." He named it and Yunho recognized where it was. It was only ten minutes from the venue.
"I wasn't planning on leaving yet."
"I was," Changmin leaned back with his elbows on the bar and tilted his head upwards, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. He sighed.
"You're not a dancer?" Yunho was genuinely surprised, because he had thought only dancers would be interested in this kind of campus event. His gaze slid over Changmin, the arched neck and slender waist beneath the grey shirt, long ('very long,' his brain emphasized for him) legs in a loose pair of jeans - he definitely had a dancer physique but there was something about him that made Yunho unable to connect him to dancing as a hobby.
"I'm a student reporter for The Strand - have you heard of it?"
"No," he said sheepishly.
Changmin set his dark eyes on him and he couldn't resist the small shiver. "It's a campus newspaper. I got assigned to this event. Are you a dancer?"
"Yeah," he admitted, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. He felt his face flush with embarrassment as the scrutiny intensed. "I'm not part of the club though. I only know some people in it."
"Lee Donghae?"
He blinked. "How - "
"I saw you talking with him. That's as far as my research extends - names." Changmin's face twisted in mild distaste. "This is going to be a really shitty article if I don't actually start talking to some of them."
"Why don't you? They're all really nice."
"I dropped my drink on you."
They looked at each other again.
"Oh!" Yunho chuckled, a feeling of nervousness pervading his senses. "Well - "
"You could help me though."
Hyoyeon had left the stage and another dancer had taken it and all Yunho could concentrate on was Changmin's eyes. "With what?"
"Tell me about this," he gestured towards the people around them, "and why you like it so much. I don't understand enough to write about it."
"Well stranger, since you dropped your drink on me, don't you think it should be the other way around?"
He smiled slowly. "Shim Changmin. I'm in journalism. You?"
"Jung Yunho, accounting." They shook. "But I don't think I can help you much."
"Just tell me about tonight. Why are you here? What did you hear about this event before coming? What made you want to be here?" There was still something strange in Changmin's eyes and Yunho couldn't help but edge away a little before answering, because Changmin was acting so casual and there was no reason why Yunho was three seconds away from bolting.
"I heard it from Donghae; it's just a showcase performance that the dance club is holding. They do it every year. There's really nothing too interesting to tell - I suppose I'm just interested in this sort of thing." He neglected to mention that 'this sort of thing' was sort of his life.
As he soon found out, he didn't need to. Changmin leaned closer suddenly, a look of rapt attention on his face. "You love it."
"I do," he agreed.
"Why?"
"It's a passion of mine. I've always felt I lived for dancing," he admitted. So the attention was flattering - he was sure his thoughts didn't reflect Changmin's and that Changmin's interest was of a purely professional nature - he started when he felt a hand on his thigh. He looked down.
"What about accounting?"
"Um - " He stuttered, "my father wanted me to do it."
"What does your father have to do with what you love?"
Okay, it was definitely time to stop. This - Changmin - was asking too many personal questions and before he knew it, his mouth was running away from him again, "I promised my father I would get a degree in something practical and he promised he'd let me pursue whatever career I wanted. This is sort of a back up plan just in case it doesn't work out."
"Then why don't you join this club?" He cocked his head curiously at him and Yunho, god forbid, found it incredibly endearing. "It won't stop you from getting your degree."
"He considers it a distraction."
Changmin opened his mouth and then closed it, as if he'd finally run out of things to ask. His hand slid off Yunho's thigh and he definitely hadn't felt a flash of disappointment at that.
"Unless you're writing an article on me, I don't think those answers would help you much," he said honestly. It made him appear as though he was genuinely concerned whether Changmin would have enough material to finish his article and Changmin smiled again and wow, that was definitely not his heart skipping a beat.
"I'll make it up. You've helped me a lot already." He paused and then added, "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
There was a short silence, before Changmin glanced at him after staring disinterestedly at yet more dancing on stage. Yunho quickly averted his eyes, wincing at having been caught. He missed the amused look Changmin shot him.
"Hey."
"Um, yes?"
"Let me know when you feel like leaving."
Yunho whirled to face him. "Why?"
"Your jacket - remember? I'll lend you something at my place. So I can get it cleaned for you?"
Two years down the road, Yunho would recall this moment and blame the alcohol that he hadn't consumed that night and Changmin would smile knowingly before letting him have that victory. For now, he would admit to himself he simply felt a whim. He stood up and looked back at Changmin, who looked up at him. "Let's go."
He would also probably never forget the small laugh that Changmin made before pulling him out of the club, Yunho stumbling slightly behind him, the grace of a dancer absent from his stride.
When he first kissed Shim Changmin that night, it was while his hands were shaking and his head was spinning far too much for him to think many coherent thoughts. When Changmin returned his kiss for the first time, he was trying not to do something stupid like scratch the itch on his nose. Still, Yunho would eventually tell Changmin that was probably his favourite memory of their time together, because that was when he fell in love. Changmin would wrinkle his nose every time but smile at the mushy words anyway.
After donning the leather jacket Changmin insisted he borrow, Yunho slunk back to his own residence feeling guilty about the missed class but with his heart surprisingly light.
Eventually, Changmin contacted him and he brought the leather jacket - that he'd grown increasingly fond of - the jackets changed hands, and that was that. Yunho filed the memory (the red jacket was as good as new) under forgiven incidents.
Not forgotten.
~*~*~
He graduated and two years passed, leaving behind the world of studying and dance showcases where randomly meeting handsome journalist students was possible.
Yunho went to auditions for entertainment companies and casting calls for film roles. Once those failed, he worked as a dance instructor for awhile, and then finally got a permanent job at an accounting firm his father recommended him to.
By the time he met Changmin again, he was spending his days in a black coat with his collar upturned, a briefcase clutched in his leather gloved hands, and a pressing need to spend more than a few nights in the office feeling claustrophobic.
Coincidentally, he'd been having dinner with a client, a beautiful older woman with black hair spilling down her back and red lips that left marks on the tall wine glass. He was listening to her chattering about how much she hated her husband when a tall figure caught his eye.
(Changmin had not a sentimental bone in his body, he would often say, and Changmin would be much inclined to agree.
Sometimes, when he watched Changmin's face carefully as he typed on his laptop, he'd describe how Changmin's shoulders had caught his attention that night. Then his hair, much longer than it had been during their school days but one that made his eyes shine that much brighter.
He always loved the way Changmin's eyes would slide towards him for a brief second, before sliding back to the screen without a change of expression on his face.)
His jaw dropped and the woman, Yoon Mirae, stopped speaking.
"Yunho, are you alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost!"
'Something like that.' "Excuse me." He gestured towards the bathroom and she waved him off with a disinterested smile, turning to the glass of red wine with intent.
He made his way down the aisle of tables and just as he was about to call out his name, something made him stop. If he'd thought Changmin of their school days was handsome, time had worked miracles on the man. He sat at the bar next to a brilliantly blonde man, whose beauty was obvious but incomparable to Changmin's far more subtle allure.
Looking at him over his shoulder, the blonde man watched him approach and did nothing, a simple curiosity in his almond shaped eyes. Only when he was several feet from Changmin did he speak.
"Changmin ah..." It was a low and musical sounding voice, but one that did not attract Yunho's attention. It was the second voice that made his heart jump in that familiar way.
"What is it?"
He turned and his eyes widened. "Yunho."
Yunho cracked an uncertain smile. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
"It...has. Yes it has. How's the jacket?" Changmin returned the smile.
"Somewhere at the back of my closet."
"A university sweetheart I don't know about, Changmin?" The man beside him observed. Yunho blushed and Changmin threw him an annoyed look at the same time.
"A sunbae. Yunho, this is Kim Jaejoong, an artist. Hyung, this is Jung Yunho, a dancer." The last part he said with a small smirk.
"Nice to meet you," he said instinctively and bowed. Jaejoong stood to return it, and then appraised him appreciably from head to foot.
"A dancer, hm?"
"Oh - not anymore - " Yunho tried not to appear embarrassed in his dress pants and leather shoes - shoes he would never dare to dance in - and Changmin blinked, his smile quickly becoming a frown. "I - uh - do accounting for clients," he finished, aware of how odd that sounded.
"Well, an accountant then. Just what you studied." Changmin watched him for a second, stood up and took him by the wrist. "Give me your cell phone."
"What?"
"Your cell phone," he said again, patiently.
Wordlessly he handed it to him. Looking at him with amusement, Changmin then punched in his own number and handed it back to him. Yunho took it with a surprisingly steady hand. "Unfortunately I have an appointment later tonight. But call me and we can reminisce about those good old university days."
Yunho laughed, feeling some of the tension leave him. "I'll be sure to." He held the cell phone loosely in his hand.
"Don't let me impose," Jaejoong spoke up.
"My time will be better spent elsewhere," Changmin shot back and Jaejoong chuckled. There was a short silence before Changmin turned back to Yunho. They were at eye level - they had always been - but now Changmin seemed far more intimidating. He was older, more experienced with the world, so that Yunho could not even have that advantage to himself now. "Make sure you do call," he said quietly, insistently.
He couldn't quite stop the broad smile that spread across his face. "I will."
After the two left the restaurant, Yunho found himself staring at the empty spot half way across the room, resuming Mirae's one-sided conversation with his non-responses. What were the chances? He'd remembered, from time to time, the young man called Shim Changmin, who had dumped a drink practically over his head and grilled him about his personal life and whom he'd kissed only after an hour of knowing him. Time had passed and they weren't young idealistic students anymore, but he couldn't help feeling as though he'd gone back in time. He couldn't help wishing that was truly the case.
That night, he felt a little silly, sitting up in bed at his parents' house (he'd moved back after university), turning his cell phone over and over again in his hand. Dating a girl back in high school had required him to call her at the dead of night and engage in a pointless conversation of senseless cooing and words of affection passed over the connection. He'd liked it because it was something boyfriends did for their girlfriends, to make them feel safe and happy. It had made Yunho feel happy to have made her happy.
Somehow, the idea of doing the same with Changmin didn't bring quite the same feeling. It was something a bit more sensual, this idea of calling so late in the evening.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was acting ridiculous but for the life of him (like that night when his mouth refused to stay shut) he could not stop himself. He scrolled through his list of contacts, stopped at Shim Changmin, and pressed call.
It rang endlessly.
Eventually he hung up, the taste of disappointment at the back of his throat. 'It's midnight,' he told himself, 'there's no reason why he'd be awake.' Finally, he sighed and went to get ready for bed.
His phone rang at three thirty in the morning.
Groggily, he groped for it in the dark and held it to his ear, his face pressed into his pillow. His "Hello, Jung Yunho..." was muffled.
"Yunho?"
He bolted upright. "Hello!" He winced.
On the other end, Changmin chuckled. "You called me earlier tonight?"
"Much earlier," he couldn't help letting slip.
"I realize how late it is but I told you to call and I didn't want you to think I didn't answer it for - Well, I was editing my article and I had to send it before two and - "
The idea that someone like Shim Changmin could stutter as if he couldn't quite make up his mind what to say made him grin like a fool. It also gave him the courage to say what he'd wanted to say even before Changmin had offered the napkin that night. "It's okay, I just wanted to ask you out for a drink. If you want."
There was a small pause. "Sure," Changmin finally answered, and Yunho tried not to make his sigh of relief too obvious. "Where?"
He made a suggestion.
"I don't think alcohol's a good idea." The implication made them both laugh.
"Coffee?"
They made arrangements and hung up.
Yunho tried to figure out why his heart was beating so fast.
~*~*~
The first of such meetings they had at a small cafe had Yunho too nervous to make much useful conversation. Changmin watched him with an amused air after insisting on paying for the coffee and both went about their day afterwards.
The second had Changmin enquiring as to Yunho's professional and family life. They engaged in a conversation about sisters and their dangerous boyfriends and the duty of brothers. Yunho left with a smile on his face and a mental picture of Changmin as a protective brother during college who sent spam and viruses to the emails of the men who broke his sisters' hearts.
The third consisted of the two meeting at the entrance of the cafe to find it closed. They walked to the nearest Starbucks, bought hot chocolates, and took to the nearest park, sipping their hot drinks as they sat on a bench to watch the snow drift around them. Yunho finally found the courage to insist on walking Changmin home and left him at the door with a kiss - on the cheek. Changmin watched him duck into the elevator with a sort of wondering look that Yunho never saw.
The next week after that, they met again at the small cafe again.
Changmin looked up from his laptop as Yunho set a steaming cup of coffee down before him. "I hope you don't mind if I bring my work here," he said apologetically, a pair of frames balanced delicately on his nose. "Deadline is coming up and I'm killing myself trying to meet it."
"I don't mind," Yunho said honestly, ripping up packet after packet of sugar to dump into the cup. "If we're talking about pressure at the workplace, that's the one thing I can relate to."
"I thought you were going to pursue the career you wanted." It was a sudden and loaded statement - Yunho's hand stilled.
"I tried to." He didn't lift his head. He would hate seeing the pity on Changmin's face, seeing as he'd managed to fulfill his dreams quite well. "How about you?"
"I got a job at one of the newspapers I was interning at during university. I always thought you'd be the one to make it though."
Yunho looked up to find Changmin still clacking away at his laptop. The statement wasn't intended to be hurtful but Yunho still felt the sting.
"Well, this is just a temporary thing I'm doing."
There wasn't much conviction in his voice but it still made Changmin stop his typing and look at him seriously. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Good." He sat back and smiled at him - that same slow smile. God. "I'm glad to hear that. When you talked about dancing that night, it was the first time I had heard that kind of conviction from someone. Then you told me what you were doing nowadays, I couldn't help feeling disappointed."
"Why didn't we keep in contact after that night then?"
Oh shit. Yunho winced as he stared tight-lipped at Changmin, who stared at him in surprise. He was never going to learn his lesson, was he? It was too early for this kind of thing.
"What do you mean?" Changmin asked carefully, not taking his eyes off of him.
"Never mind," he smiled uneasily. "The present is more important than the past. What were the chances of us meeting so randomly?"
"Not very high. But," he picked up the cup to sip from it (Yunho was impressed when he didn't make a face at the taste; he'd had yet to add sugar), "the fact that we did might mean something." There was an uncertainty to those words, as if he didn't want to have come to that conclusion, but Yunho jumped at the chance.
"Perhaps we can see more of each other then?"
"More so than we already have?" Changmin's clear amusement took the edge off of that statement.
"Maybe it was meant to be."
Changmin seemed to shut down at that thought and he returned to his typing, eyes trained on his laptop. "I'd like that," he said quietly.
The rest of their fourth date, if one could call it that, had Yunho and his drink keeping Changmin and his laptop company until well after sundown. Not wanting to bother him, Yunho instead watched him unabashedly. Normally he'd try not to make his date uncomfortable, but Changmin had never been a normal date, had he? He seemed unaffected by the attention; his own trained solely on his work.
Yunho watched the sun slant across his face, highlight those incredible cheekbones, made those eyes gleam behind the glasses. As the sun set, he watched as the shadows moved gradually across his face, and the way there was something that simply forced Yunho to look at him. It was almost like a physical reaction - he could not turn away.
He'd gotten up three times in the past few hours to buy drinks and replace Changmin's. They'd kept up some light conversation, Yunho with his observations and Changmin with his small noises of his acknowledgement. Finally, Changmin shut off his laptop and looked up. Then his eyes widened and he looked around, confused at how different a place looked during the day and during the evening.
"I didn't realize it was so late," he said, not without a hint of regret, which Yunho was pleased to see.
"If you let me treat you to dinner, I'll forgive you."
Changmin grinned. "I'll treat you instead. Not many can sit there and watch me work for so long without wanting to pitch the laptop at my head. Jaejoong's tried."
Dinner was far more productive in terms of the whole process of trying to get to know each other. They went to a small Italian restaurant and Yunho was surprised to find that with food, Changmin became a more talkative person. Or maybe it was just the fact that his laptop was safely stowed away in his bag.
"Did you eventually read that article I wrote?" Changmin asked in mid-bite, laughing eyes directed at him.
"Um - "
"Well I don't blame you, too much. The quality of The Strand wasn't very high. Anyway, the article was terrible but your friend - Donghae? He thanked me for writing it. He said it actually brought them a few new members several days after it came out." He smiled fondly at the memory. "It's the idea of having that ability to use the news as an organ to bring awareness, even for something as mundane as a university campus club, that I'm doing what I'm doing right now."
"It's good that you succeeded then." He poked at his pasta, a little putout.
"You will too."
He looked up.
Yunho would never describe Changmin's eyes as earnest, because they never were. They were thoughtful and sharp and insightful, but there wasn't ever eagerness there, as if it had never occurred to him to wish for things or do things for the sake of doing them.
This time was special, only because there was a little bit of everything, and Changmin looked at him thoughtfully and sharply and insightfully, and it all culminated to appear very similar to earnestness, as if he truly believed what he was saying.
It is rarely ever possible to pinpoint the exact moment when one falls in love. Yunho often insisted that it was their first meeting, but a more accurate (though of course never absolute) conclusion would be that this moment stirred something in him like never before. This was the sort of romantic language that Yunho liked. For him, it would always be nothing but the truth; no matter how often in the future Changmin would meet such statements with his own language, one of silence.
That night, they fumbled through the hall of Changmin's flat. There was darkness that embraced them and the night that hid them from temporarily broken dreams and self-stifling habits. Instead, Yunho breathed in the air between them and the arms around him and the way it felt when the younger man sighed into his ear and clutched at his hips.
They continued meeting at the coffee place every week. Yunho knew there wasn't any place he'd rather be then sitting at their table, watching Changmin talk. Sometimes he also liked watching him type, occasionally frown, and then smile when he got a sentence to sound exactly the way he wanted it to.
Next
Pairing: Yunho/Changmin
Genre: AU, drama/romance
Warnings: None
Summary: Sometimes, life works in strange ways. Or sometimes, it works in just the right way.
A/N: For yuxo
"Okay, let's wrap it up!"
Japanese still sounded foreign to his ears, although he'd lived in the country several years now. Working in Japan made life interesting, if difficult. Homesickness hit him at the rarest of times nowadays, whenever he was doing mundane things.
Like drinking sake at an after party. Wishing it was soju and that the words spilling out of his lips weren't half sentences that made little sense.
Or flipping through channels on the small television in his box-like apartment and wondering what was airing on television back home. The latest development to his favourite Korean drama.
Listening to the music blasting from shops as he walked down the street from his apartment to the studio, the high-pitched girly voices or deep throaty metallic growls making him edge away if he stood in one spot for too long. Turning on his ipod to listen to the more familiar hip hop beats and soulful voices settling his nerves and adding a spring to his step.
Now, he was used to tatami mats that lined his floor, the futon he laid out every night and bundled into the closet every morning, Japanese curry he had every Thursday night, the pretty Japanese girls with their bleached hair piled atop their heads and the short Japanese businessmen scurrying to and fro all over the city, and all their rather horrible looking teeth.
Now, he zipped up his winter jacket and grabbed his bag, wondering when he should call home tonight. He was due for another short vacation break soon, for Christmas, although dancers like him rarely had such breaks. Still, three days. Back in Japan before the 25th and back on stage as another anonymous body behind the real star of the night. Three days and two nights. He should be grateful though - the dancers who still had trouble with the routine didn't even get that much.
"Yunho-kun!"
"Hello," he greeted the older man, pasting on the polite smile he was used to wearing everywhere he went. "Shinya-san."
"Still so formal?" He could recognize the teasing tone and he grinned, shaking his head.
"I'm too used to it," he answered, fidgeting with the bag hanging over his shoulder. He knew the way he spoke was too polite for someone his age when addressing someone that was Shinya's age, but he figured it was better to be too polite than to be impolite.
Shinya accepted that explanation, a familiar conversation the two often had. "Where are you off to?"
"I'm going back to Korea for the break so I need to start packing tonight. Do you need me for something?"
"Well, it's our last practice until Christmas. Come out with us! We're going to that new restaurant down the street. You know what that means!" An arm was flung around his shoulder and he laughed.
"I shouldn't," he said uncertainly, glancing at the door. His flight was tomorrow at noon and he still had yet to drop his key off with his landlord and inform his neighbours of his trip -
"Yunho!"
Lee Hyukjae, the only other Korean in their group, bounded up next to them. "You're going tonight, aren't you?"
"I have to pack, Hyukjae - "
"Come on!" There was that ear splitting grin that was characteristic of him. "- And you're going away so we should all celebrate - "
"Hey hey, let the man decide!" Shinya pulled Hyukjae back, his enthusiasm making the Japanese man laugh. "You might scare him off instead!"
"I shouldn't," Yunho repeated, not without a hint of regret. "My flight is early and being hungover isn't the best thing to be when getting on a plane. Will they let me on the plane?"
Hyukjae and Shinya glanced at each other and shrugged.
"I'll stay home and pack and get a good night's sleep. You all have fun without me. I'll celebrate after the Christmas concert," he promised, referring to the concert of a popular Japanese artist they were going to dance for. He was looking forward to the after-party already. Tonight, however, was not a good night to get drunk.
After exchanging other such pleasantries and wishing him a good trip, Shinya ambled off to rejoin the other dancers, leaving Yunho and Hyukjae alone. They watched him go before turning back to each other.
"Are you sure? You seem kind of - "
"It's fine," Yunho interrupted, the words coming easier now that they were speaking in Korean.
"You know," he began, hesitating, "you can talk to me if you're remembering too much. Or if you miss Korea and the people there." This did not take him by surprise since it wasn't the first time he'd offered, though in more subtle ways in the past.
"Thank you," he said honestly.
"Because," Hyukjae laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, "a couple of expats like us need to stick together. Shinya sshi is nice and all, and so are the others but..."
He nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "But it's not the same. I appreciate it, Hyukjae. I'll see you and everyone else on Christmas day."
A strangely knowing look flitted past Hyukjae's face and then he left him alone, joining the large party that was just leaving. Yunho waited until they had all filed past him and they'd wished each other the appropriate 'happy holidays' and 'have a safe trip' and 'don't get so drunk you can't walk straight!' Yunho was ready to head home himself.
Just as he was about to leave, one of the managers shoved a brown package into Yunho's hands. The studio's address was written in neat characters. Yunho's own name was written in Korean in brackets next to the katakana version of it. The writing was familiar, though he couldn't place it. There was no return address, as if the sender didn't care whether it made it into his hands. He stared questioningly at the manager.
"Actually, it came a long time ago but we kept forgetting to give it to you," he explained, looking mildly apologetic. "Just cleaned up the office and found it sitting in a pile of dust behind the cabinet. Maybe they mailed it here because they didn't know your personal address."
"That's okay. Thanks, happy Christmas."
Yunho stuffed it into his bag without much thought to it. If it was from Korea, it was probably his parents or old friends - but it wasn't a priority. He took his time heading home.
This time of year saw his part of the city alight with holiday cheer. It was evening and that meant couples were mingling all along the street and snow was drifting slowly to the ground. It was beautiful and picturesque.
"Way to feel sorry for yourself," he muttered to himself, staring upwards as he waited for the light to change. The weather wasn't too cold yet - at least, he wasn't shivering madly underneath his jacket - but how cliché was it to feel lonely amidst the love in the air? Even Valentines Day didn't make him feel this way - because V-day was a commercialized holiday for straight people and Yunho neither liked chocolate and manufactured heart-shaped boxes nor was he (completely) straight.
But Christmas, a holiday that should consist of a date with your significant other and strolling through the crowded streets and then exchanging gifts and perhaps even a kiss before the giant Christmas tree set up in the center of the city (according to the Japanese anyway, he thought wryly), reminded him of sipping tea at the dead of night because neither of them could sleep and watching the snow drift down from the window. It also reminded him of the tiny Christmas tree that had sat in the corner of their apartment in Korea, the one that glimmered and sang cheesy Christmas songs all throughout the day if he turned it on - the one that made Changmin turn to him in despair and offer him a kiss in that stoic way of his if Yunho would shut the damn thing off before I throw it out the window.
The tightness in his chest had nothing to do with missing him, he told himself fervently, and after eating a quick dinner at a small ramen shop, he trooped home. Removing his boots at the doorway and dumping his bag onto the ground, he switched on the light. The apartment was familiar to him now, every little space and corner. At night, when he tried to fall asleep amidst the absolute darkness, he could admit that it never felt like Home. But at this point in his life, he had trouble trying to decide what Home was. He'd accepted that long ago.
Packing and doing some last minute cleaning occupied his thoughts and time for the rest of the night and when he rolled out his futon and climbed in, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
And if he woke up the next morning, before the sun had fully climbed up into the sky, with his eyes stiff from the tears that had dried and memories of dreams, snippets he could only half-remember nowadays but nonetheless knew would stay with him for the rest of his life, well, it was as much a part of his life now as Japan was.
He forgot about the package.
~*~*~
Ten years ago (it felt like an eternity), he was a romantic at heart. Having endured the mockery of those who knew did not deter him from his quest in seeking a happy, fulfilling, and above all, romantic relationship to share with that special someone.
But first and foremost, Yunho was a dancer.
During high school, he'd made his mark as the one who joined all the talent shows and competitions without fail. It wasn't the fact that he won a few and lost a few; he'd always believed that all of it contributed to a sort of journey he was embarking on. Maybe dancing wasn't the most financially stable dream to pursue and maybe his family didn't quite approve of it but it was what he loved.
Let it be known that nothing could deter Yunho from doing what he loved, in any way, shape, or form. The very fact that he was currently sitting at a club instead of at his evening class was proof enough of that.
"Relax, Yunho! People skip class all the time!"
Let it also be known that Yunho did not broke rules without much trepidation beforehand no matter what reason he did it for.
He sighed. "This had better be worth it, Donghae."
"I've been planning this showcase for ages," the cheeky man said, grinning with confidence as he downed a glass of coke. The bleached blonde atop his head contrasted sharply with the black at the back of his head. Beneath the spinning lights that made the room glow and made Yunho dizzy, Donghae and his shimmery leather jacket seemed all the more dramatic. "You'll love it."
"Well, I'm sure I will," he eyed the stage and the DJ stand being prepared, "the performers are from your club, right?"
"Not my club," Donghae answered and slung an arm over his shoulders. He pointed at someone off to the distance. "That's Shin Donghee, he's the president. I've told you before, haven't I?" The man Yunho's attention was now directed towards threw his head back and let out a bellow of laughter.
"Too many times."
"Hey!"
Yunho grinned; rubbing the shoulder Donghae had just landed a punch on.
"You should just join. I don't even know what's holding you back."
"I promised my dad. Didn't we have this discussion in our first year - "
"It's your last year now, Yunho," his friend sighed and dropped onto the bar stool next to him. "We could really use you."
"You've got a great team without me," he said, smiling at the small group that was beginning to congregate at the side of the stage. The crowd was small but so was the room and the cheering was escalating. It was almost show time.
Donghae laughed. "Well I can't deny that - we got an amazing first-year a couple months ago and she's already opening this event. But that doesn't mean one good dancer cancels out another!"
"Who?"
"The girl folding herself in half against the wall in the corner there? Kim Hyoyeon."
He watched as the girl stretched, watched as she slid smoothly onto stage with a certain flair in her step, a mischievous smile on her face, and a flick to her long curled blonde hair - he could already tell that was going to be a signature of hers.
"Sure it doesn't," he said to Donghae's last statement without taking his eyes off from the stage, "but it means you guys don't need me."
The lights were dimming now and the spotlight swivelled crazily until it centered upon the girl, who got into position with her back facing the crowd. She snapped her fingers and the sounds blazed through the room, assaulting Yunho's ear with the beats he was familiar with. Lived for.
She moved, each shift of her body strong and precise. Hyoyeon didn't try too hard to be sexy - it seemed she was aware that her small frame didn't lend much to sensuality. Instead, it gave her the impression of girlish meekness - despite appearances of her wild hair and bright eyes - which she quickly dispelled with the aggression of her dancing. It was powerful and she was undoubtedly skilled.
Donghae noticed it before he did. "You think she's hot?"
He turned horrified eyes at him. "She's looks eighteen!"
"She is eighteen."
"No, Donghae, I don't think she's hot. She's very good. You definitely don't need me."
"Yunho!" Donghae opened his mouth to protest further but a shout of his name diverted his attention and with a look promising the subject would be brought up again, he was off. Yunho watched him weaving through the crowd.
He turned back to Hyoyeon. She was popping now and controlled her body with ease, letting the music take over. The grin on her face was almost blinding - she was a kindred soul, he decided, someone who loved dancing for the sake of it. All eyes were on her.
If one ill-fitting young man sitting several stools behind Yunho had gone unnoticed that night, nobody in that room would've felt inclined to point that out. Yunho wouldn't have turned around and instead, would've probably left after another hour of sitting aimlessly by himself, sipping the same drink. Perhaps he would've occasionally greeted the people he was familiar with, those in the university's dance club that he'd both interacted often with and avoided joining for the last four years.
Life had an interesting way of connecting people and then screwing them over for life, so as Shim Changmin stood up to walk past Yunho, drink in hand, he inadvertently spilled the entire thing on him.
They stared at each other. Yunho was quick to notice the shaggy haircut, soft eyes, razor sharp cheekbones, and the small pouting mouth. Even in the dim lighting, he could tell the boy - man, really - was painfully good looking. There was something about those eyes -
"Um - "
"I didn't mean to - "
"It's okay - "
"Napkin?"
Yunho accepted it wearily and tried to dab at the wet spots decorating his red jacket. His favourite, too. "Was that rum and coke?" It was a silly question, because the smell answered it for him.
"I can wash it for you," Changmin said uncertainly, eyeing the stains.
"What am I going to wear home tonight then?" Yunho asked simply. It was not an accusatory question but the reminder that it was the middle of winter and he was going to freeze to death with the thin shirt he'd worn, believing his thicker jacket would protect him from the cold. Otherwise he would've worn a sweater underneath. Curse his short-lived vanity.
Changmin sighed and slid into the seat previously occupied by Donghae, slumping a little. "What do you suggest?"
"I don't know," he muttered, still wiping futilely. Good looking or not, he didn't like the idea of letting him off for ruining his jacket.
"We could go to my residence and I'll lend you something." He named it and Yunho recognized where it was. It was only ten minutes from the venue.
"I wasn't planning on leaving yet."
"I was," Changmin leaned back with his elbows on the bar and tilted his head upwards, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. He sighed.
"You're not a dancer?" Yunho was genuinely surprised, because he had thought only dancers would be interested in this kind of campus event. His gaze slid over Changmin, the arched neck and slender waist beneath the grey shirt, long ('very long,' his brain emphasized for him) legs in a loose pair of jeans - he definitely had a dancer physique but there was something about him that made Yunho unable to connect him to dancing as a hobby.
"I'm a student reporter for The Strand - have you heard of it?"
"No," he said sheepishly.
Changmin set his dark eyes on him and he couldn't resist the small shiver. "It's a campus newspaper. I got assigned to this event. Are you a dancer?"
"Yeah," he admitted, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. He felt his face flush with embarrassment as the scrutiny intensed. "I'm not part of the club though. I only know some people in it."
"Lee Donghae?"
He blinked. "How - "
"I saw you talking with him. That's as far as my research extends - names." Changmin's face twisted in mild distaste. "This is going to be a really shitty article if I don't actually start talking to some of them."
"Why don't you? They're all really nice."
"I dropped my drink on you."
They looked at each other again.
"Oh!" Yunho chuckled, a feeling of nervousness pervading his senses. "Well - "
"You could help me though."
Hyoyeon had left the stage and another dancer had taken it and all Yunho could concentrate on was Changmin's eyes. "With what?"
"Tell me about this," he gestured towards the people around them, "and why you like it so much. I don't understand enough to write about it."
"Well stranger, since you dropped your drink on me, don't you think it should be the other way around?"
He smiled slowly. "Shim Changmin. I'm in journalism. You?"
"Jung Yunho, accounting." They shook. "But I don't think I can help you much."
"Just tell me about tonight. Why are you here? What did you hear about this event before coming? What made you want to be here?" There was still something strange in Changmin's eyes and Yunho couldn't help but edge away a little before answering, because Changmin was acting so casual and there was no reason why Yunho was three seconds away from bolting.
"I heard it from Donghae; it's just a showcase performance that the dance club is holding. They do it every year. There's really nothing too interesting to tell - I suppose I'm just interested in this sort of thing." He neglected to mention that 'this sort of thing' was sort of his life.
As he soon found out, he didn't need to. Changmin leaned closer suddenly, a look of rapt attention on his face. "You love it."
"I do," he agreed.
"Why?"
"It's a passion of mine. I've always felt I lived for dancing," he admitted. So the attention was flattering - he was sure his thoughts didn't reflect Changmin's and that Changmin's interest was of a purely professional nature - he started when he felt a hand on his thigh. He looked down.
"What about accounting?"
"Um - " He stuttered, "my father wanted me to do it."
"What does your father have to do with what you love?"
Okay, it was definitely time to stop. This - Changmin - was asking too many personal questions and before he knew it, his mouth was running away from him again, "I promised my father I would get a degree in something practical and he promised he'd let me pursue whatever career I wanted. This is sort of a back up plan just in case it doesn't work out."
"Then why don't you join this club?" He cocked his head curiously at him and Yunho, god forbid, found it incredibly endearing. "It won't stop you from getting your degree."
"He considers it a distraction."
Changmin opened his mouth and then closed it, as if he'd finally run out of things to ask. His hand slid off Yunho's thigh and he definitely hadn't felt a flash of disappointment at that.
"Unless you're writing an article on me, I don't think those answers would help you much," he said honestly. It made him appear as though he was genuinely concerned whether Changmin would have enough material to finish his article and Changmin smiled again and wow, that was definitely not his heart skipping a beat.
"I'll make it up. You've helped me a lot already." He paused and then added, "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
There was a short silence, before Changmin glanced at him after staring disinterestedly at yet more dancing on stage. Yunho quickly averted his eyes, wincing at having been caught. He missed the amused look Changmin shot him.
"Hey."
"Um, yes?"
"Let me know when you feel like leaving."
Yunho whirled to face him. "Why?"
"Your jacket - remember? I'll lend you something at my place. So I can get it cleaned for you?"
Two years down the road, Yunho would recall this moment and blame the alcohol that he hadn't consumed that night and Changmin would smile knowingly before letting him have that victory. For now, he would admit to himself he simply felt a whim. He stood up and looked back at Changmin, who looked up at him. "Let's go."
He would also probably never forget the small laugh that Changmin made before pulling him out of the club, Yunho stumbling slightly behind him, the grace of a dancer absent from his stride.
When he first kissed Shim Changmin that night, it was while his hands were shaking and his head was spinning far too much for him to think many coherent thoughts. When Changmin returned his kiss for the first time, he was trying not to do something stupid like scratch the itch on his nose. Still, Yunho would eventually tell Changmin that was probably his favourite memory of their time together, because that was when he fell in love. Changmin would wrinkle his nose every time but smile at the mushy words anyway.
After donning the leather jacket Changmin insisted he borrow, Yunho slunk back to his own residence feeling guilty about the missed class but with his heart surprisingly light.
Eventually, Changmin contacted him and he brought the leather jacket - that he'd grown increasingly fond of - the jackets changed hands, and that was that. Yunho filed the memory (the red jacket was as good as new) under forgiven incidents.
Not forgotten.
~*~*~
He graduated and two years passed, leaving behind the world of studying and dance showcases where randomly meeting handsome journalist students was possible.
Yunho went to auditions for entertainment companies and casting calls for film roles. Once those failed, he worked as a dance instructor for awhile, and then finally got a permanent job at an accounting firm his father recommended him to.
By the time he met Changmin again, he was spending his days in a black coat with his collar upturned, a briefcase clutched in his leather gloved hands, and a pressing need to spend more than a few nights in the office feeling claustrophobic.
Coincidentally, he'd been having dinner with a client, a beautiful older woman with black hair spilling down her back and red lips that left marks on the tall wine glass. He was listening to her chattering about how much she hated her husband when a tall figure caught his eye.
(Changmin had not a sentimental bone in his body, he would often say, and Changmin would be much inclined to agree.
Sometimes, when he watched Changmin's face carefully as he typed on his laptop, he'd describe how Changmin's shoulders had caught his attention that night. Then his hair, much longer than it had been during their school days but one that made his eyes shine that much brighter.
He always loved the way Changmin's eyes would slide towards him for a brief second, before sliding back to the screen without a change of expression on his face.)
His jaw dropped and the woman, Yoon Mirae, stopped speaking.
"Yunho, are you alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost!"
'Something like that.' "Excuse me." He gestured towards the bathroom and she waved him off with a disinterested smile, turning to the glass of red wine with intent.
He made his way down the aisle of tables and just as he was about to call out his name, something made him stop. If he'd thought Changmin of their school days was handsome, time had worked miracles on the man. He sat at the bar next to a brilliantly blonde man, whose beauty was obvious but incomparable to Changmin's far more subtle allure.
Looking at him over his shoulder, the blonde man watched him approach and did nothing, a simple curiosity in his almond shaped eyes. Only when he was several feet from Changmin did he speak.
"Changmin ah..." It was a low and musical sounding voice, but one that did not attract Yunho's attention. It was the second voice that made his heart jump in that familiar way.
"What is it?"
He turned and his eyes widened. "Yunho."
Yunho cracked an uncertain smile. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
"It...has. Yes it has. How's the jacket?" Changmin returned the smile.
"Somewhere at the back of my closet."
"A university sweetheart I don't know about, Changmin?" The man beside him observed. Yunho blushed and Changmin threw him an annoyed look at the same time.
"A sunbae. Yunho, this is Kim Jaejoong, an artist. Hyung, this is Jung Yunho, a dancer." The last part he said with a small smirk.
"Nice to meet you," he said instinctively and bowed. Jaejoong stood to return it, and then appraised him appreciably from head to foot.
"A dancer, hm?"
"Oh - not anymore - " Yunho tried not to appear embarrassed in his dress pants and leather shoes - shoes he would never dare to dance in - and Changmin blinked, his smile quickly becoming a frown. "I - uh - do accounting for clients," he finished, aware of how odd that sounded.
"Well, an accountant then. Just what you studied." Changmin watched him for a second, stood up and took him by the wrist. "Give me your cell phone."
"What?"
"Your cell phone," he said again, patiently.
Wordlessly he handed it to him. Looking at him with amusement, Changmin then punched in his own number and handed it back to him. Yunho took it with a surprisingly steady hand. "Unfortunately I have an appointment later tonight. But call me and we can reminisce about those good old university days."
Yunho laughed, feeling some of the tension leave him. "I'll be sure to." He held the cell phone loosely in his hand.
"Don't let me impose," Jaejoong spoke up.
"My time will be better spent elsewhere," Changmin shot back and Jaejoong chuckled. There was a short silence before Changmin turned back to Yunho. They were at eye level - they had always been - but now Changmin seemed far more intimidating. He was older, more experienced with the world, so that Yunho could not even have that advantage to himself now. "Make sure you do call," he said quietly, insistently.
He couldn't quite stop the broad smile that spread across his face. "I will."
After the two left the restaurant, Yunho found himself staring at the empty spot half way across the room, resuming Mirae's one-sided conversation with his non-responses. What were the chances? He'd remembered, from time to time, the young man called Shim Changmin, who had dumped a drink practically over his head and grilled him about his personal life and whom he'd kissed only after an hour of knowing him. Time had passed and they weren't young idealistic students anymore, but he couldn't help feeling as though he'd gone back in time. He couldn't help wishing that was truly the case.
That night, he felt a little silly, sitting up in bed at his parents' house (he'd moved back after university), turning his cell phone over and over again in his hand. Dating a girl back in high school had required him to call her at the dead of night and engage in a pointless conversation of senseless cooing and words of affection passed over the connection. He'd liked it because it was something boyfriends did for their girlfriends, to make them feel safe and happy. It had made Yunho feel happy to have made her happy.
Somehow, the idea of doing the same with Changmin didn't bring quite the same feeling. It was something a bit more sensual, this idea of calling so late in the evening.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was acting ridiculous but for the life of him (like that night when his mouth refused to stay shut) he could not stop himself. He scrolled through his list of contacts, stopped at Shim Changmin, and pressed call.
It rang endlessly.
Eventually he hung up, the taste of disappointment at the back of his throat. 'It's midnight,' he told himself, 'there's no reason why he'd be awake.' Finally, he sighed and went to get ready for bed.
His phone rang at three thirty in the morning.
Groggily, he groped for it in the dark and held it to his ear, his face pressed into his pillow. His "Hello, Jung Yunho..." was muffled.
"Yunho?"
He bolted upright. "Hello!" He winced.
On the other end, Changmin chuckled. "You called me earlier tonight?"
"Much earlier," he couldn't help letting slip.
"I realize how late it is but I told you to call and I didn't want you to think I didn't answer it for - Well, I was editing my article and I had to send it before two and - "
The idea that someone like Shim Changmin could stutter as if he couldn't quite make up his mind what to say made him grin like a fool. It also gave him the courage to say what he'd wanted to say even before Changmin had offered the napkin that night. "It's okay, I just wanted to ask you out for a drink. If you want."
There was a small pause. "Sure," Changmin finally answered, and Yunho tried not to make his sigh of relief too obvious. "Where?"
He made a suggestion.
"I don't think alcohol's a good idea." The implication made them both laugh.
"Coffee?"
They made arrangements and hung up.
Yunho tried to figure out why his heart was beating so fast.
~*~*~
The first of such meetings they had at a small cafe had Yunho too nervous to make much useful conversation. Changmin watched him with an amused air after insisting on paying for the coffee and both went about their day afterwards.
The second had Changmin enquiring as to Yunho's professional and family life. They engaged in a conversation about sisters and their dangerous boyfriends and the duty of brothers. Yunho left with a smile on his face and a mental picture of Changmin as a protective brother during college who sent spam and viruses to the emails of the men who broke his sisters' hearts.
The third consisted of the two meeting at the entrance of the cafe to find it closed. They walked to the nearest Starbucks, bought hot chocolates, and took to the nearest park, sipping their hot drinks as they sat on a bench to watch the snow drift around them. Yunho finally found the courage to insist on walking Changmin home and left him at the door with a kiss - on the cheek. Changmin watched him duck into the elevator with a sort of wondering look that Yunho never saw.
The next week after that, they met again at the small cafe again.
Changmin looked up from his laptop as Yunho set a steaming cup of coffee down before him. "I hope you don't mind if I bring my work here," he said apologetically, a pair of frames balanced delicately on his nose. "Deadline is coming up and I'm killing myself trying to meet it."
"I don't mind," Yunho said honestly, ripping up packet after packet of sugar to dump into the cup. "If we're talking about pressure at the workplace, that's the one thing I can relate to."
"I thought you were going to pursue the career you wanted." It was a sudden and loaded statement - Yunho's hand stilled.
"I tried to." He didn't lift his head. He would hate seeing the pity on Changmin's face, seeing as he'd managed to fulfill his dreams quite well. "How about you?"
"I got a job at one of the newspapers I was interning at during university. I always thought you'd be the one to make it though."
Yunho looked up to find Changmin still clacking away at his laptop. The statement wasn't intended to be hurtful but Yunho still felt the sting.
"Well, this is just a temporary thing I'm doing."
There wasn't much conviction in his voice but it still made Changmin stop his typing and look at him seriously. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Good." He sat back and smiled at him - that same slow smile. God. "I'm glad to hear that. When you talked about dancing that night, it was the first time I had heard that kind of conviction from someone. Then you told me what you were doing nowadays, I couldn't help feeling disappointed."
"Why didn't we keep in contact after that night then?"
Oh shit. Yunho winced as he stared tight-lipped at Changmin, who stared at him in surprise. He was never going to learn his lesson, was he? It was too early for this kind of thing.
"What do you mean?" Changmin asked carefully, not taking his eyes off of him.
"Never mind," he smiled uneasily. "The present is more important than the past. What were the chances of us meeting so randomly?"
"Not very high. But," he picked up the cup to sip from it (Yunho was impressed when he didn't make a face at the taste; he'd had yet to add sugar), "the fact that we did might mean something." There was an uncertainty to those words, as if he didn't want to have come to that conclusion, but Yunho jumped at the chance.
"Perhaps we can see more of each other then?"
"More so than we already have?" Changmin's clear amusement took the edge off of that statement.
"Maybe it was meant to be."
Changmin seemed to shut down at that thought and he returned to his typing, eyes trained on his laptop. "I'd like that," he said quietly.
The rest of their fourth date, if one could call it that, had Yunho and his drink keeping Changmin and his laptop company until well after sundown. Not wanting to bother him, Yunho instead watched him unabashedly. Normally he'd try not to make his date uncomfortable, but Changmin had never been a normal date, had he? He seemed unaffected by the attention; his own trained solely on his work.
Yunho watched the sun slant across his face, highlight those incredible cheekbones, made those eyes gleam behind the glasses. As the sun set, he watched as the shadows moved gradually across his face, and the way there was something that simply forced Yunho to look at him. It was almost like a physical reaction - he could not turn away.
He'd gotten up three times in the past few hours to buy drinks and replace Changmin's. They'd kept up some light conversation, Yunho with his observations and Changmin with his small noises of his acknowledgement. Finally, Changmin shut off his laptop and looked up. Then his eyes widened and he looked around, confused at how different a place looked during the day and during the evening.
"I didn't realize it was so late," he said, not without a hint of regret, which Yunho was pleased to see.
"If you let me treat you to dinner, I'll forgive you."
Changmin grinned. "I'll treat you instead. Not many can sit there and watch me work for so long without wanting to pitch the laptop at my head. Jaejoong's tried."
Dinner was far more productive in terms of the whole process of trying to get to know each other. They went to a small Italian restaurant and Yunho was surprised to find that with food, Changmin became a more talkative person. Or maybe it was just the fact that his laptop was safely stowed away in his bag.
"Did you eventually read that article I wrote?" Changmin asked in mid-bite, laughing eyes directed at him.
"Um - "
"Well I don't blame you, too much. The quality of The Strand wasn't very high. Anyway, the article was terrible but your friend - Donghae? He thanked me for writing it. He said it actually brought them a few new members several days after it came out." He smiled fondly at the memory. "It's the idea of having that ability to use the news as an organ to bring awareness, even for something as mundane as a university campus club, that I'm doing what I'm doing right now."
"It's good that you succeeded then." He poked at his pasta, a little putout.
"You will too."
He looked up.
Yunho would never describe Changmin's eyes as earnest, because they never were. They were thoughtful and sharp and insightful, but there wasn't ever eagerness there, as if it had never occurred to him to wish for things or do things for the sake of doing them.
This time was special, only because there was a little bit of everything, and Changmin looked at him thoughtfully and sharply and insightfully, and it all culminated to appear very similar to earnestness, as if he truly believed what he was saying.
It is rarely ever possible to pinpoint the exact moment when one falls in love. Yunho often insisted that it was their first meeting, but a more accurate (though of course never absolute) conclusion would be that this moment stirred something in him like never before. This was the sort of romantic language that Yunho liked. For him, it would always be nothing but the truth; no matter how often in the future Changmin would meet such statements with his own language, one of silence.
That night, they fumbled through the hall of Changmin's flat. There was darkness that embraced them and the night that hid them from temporarily broken dreams and self-stifling habits. Instead, Yunho breathed in the air between them and the arms around him and the way it felt when the younger man sighed into his ear and clutched at his hips.
They continued meeting at the coffee place every week. Yunho knew there wasn't any place he'd rather be then sitting at their table, watching Changmin talk. Sometimes he also liked watching him type, occasionally frown, and then smile when he got a sentence to sound exactly the way he wanted it to.
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