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black_goose because I ♥ her and she deserves a reminder that all she needs from fandom are the awesome parts. Ilu bb.
(This is also for Heechul's birthday, because it's the 10th in Korea and here in Beijing so stfu, rest of the world, lol. I love you, Kim Heechul. You are fucking amazing.)
China Blue Nevers
Super Junior, Siwon/Hankyung/Heechul, PG-13, 4025 words
There are some things in life you just can't have, because Siwon is never meant to know.
China Blue Nevers
bymeiface
The sky was ashy blue, no stars in sight and no distinguishable clouds. There was a thin haze filming over the world, trapping in the day's heat even after the sun had disappeared; though it was cooler, the night was still muggy, the air still clinging to skin with damp resolution.
"I can't even breathe without sweating," Heechul complained, lying half-naked on the couch and fanning himself half-heartedly with a magazine. "Why is it like this?"
Hankyung had let Heechul have the couch in what Heechul assumed was graciousness, spread out instead on the floor. He didn't bother to tell Heechul that the wooden slats of the floor were much cooler than the fabric couch could possibly be.
"It's summer," he said, eyes closed as he remained very, very still in hopes that it would keep him cooler.
"Seoul isn't like this."
Hankyung let the snarled complaint pass. He knew that Heechul knew the differences between Seoul and Beijing. They had been traveling here for years, often during the summer, and every time it was the same stifling heat. Every time, Heechul still whined and groused and muttered disparaging comments about China's weather, as if the country itself were responsible for or capable of changing such things. Hankyung didn't mind. He loved Beijing, and he knew Heechul knew that. For all his unflattering remarks, Heechul still came with Hankyung every time.
The fan whirred quietly in the corner, barely stirring the air enough for a breeze. It was little comfort in the face of a long, muggy night with a broken AC. Next time they came, Hankyung would have to remember to get a guarantee that not only did their short-term apartment include an air-conditioning unit, but also that said air-conditioning unit actually worked.
So much for good faith, he thought grumpily. But then he sucked in a lungful of breath and blew it back out in a silent exhale, letting go of his irritation. It would do no good now, and it was too hot besides.
They laid in the dark, unspeaking, for a while. Lights were kept off to discourage insects that would no doubt drift through their open balcony door and windows and find victims rendered easy by their disinclination to move. Outside, under the charcoal and blue sky, they could hear muffled sounds of traffic and people. Commotion once removed, made distant by the barrier of the thick, sticky air.
Hankyung slid a hand down his bare stomach and tucked it under the waistband of his boxers. He listened to Heechul sigh, a shade too lazy to be impatient, and the flutter of glossy pages as he waved the magazine listlessly. It felt like they were waiting for something, but Hankyung didn't know what.
"Do you want to see my school?" Hankyung asked Heechul once on a trip back to Beijing. He shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand and regretted handing his sunglasses over to Heechul earlier.
Heechul's expression was inscrutable behind Hankyung's sunglasses and the sweet milk popsicle at his mouth. "Why would I want to see your school?" His lips were pink and wet as he smacked them loudly, obnoxious because he could be. Hankyung didn't know why he still put up with him all this time.
"What's so special about your school?" Heechul demanded. "Is it in an air-conditioned dome? Because if it's just walking around in the sun looking at some old buildings you used to go to class in, thanks but no thanks."
Hankyung rolled his eyes. "Then you pick and hurry up. It's practically forty degrees out here today." Forty degrees in bright sunlight, standing on a curb beside the newsstand where Heechul had just bought a popsicle. He'd gotten his own this time, but of course he'd only smiled widely as he bought just one for himself. He didn't offer to get Hankyung one. Hankyung didn't ask. He'd known Heechul for far too long - long enough to understand his quirks and his games.
He'd bought a cold bottle of water instead and tipped it back to finish it off now, as Heechul licked his lips and threw the popsicle stick onto the ground.
"You know, you complain about China being so dirty and then you do things like that. We have trash cans, you know. Recycling bins, even."
Heechul ignored Hankyung's raised eyebrow, only lifting a hand to rub a thumb along Hankyung's mouth, where condensation and slipped down the outside of his bottle and down his chin. "I wouldn't mind seeing where you first danced," he said.
Hankyung tugged at the brim of his baseball cap, squinting into the street. The mess of traffic - cars, bikes, motorcycles, and an endless stream of people - all looked like a mirage, hazy in the heat. "That's in Shenzhen, Heechul."
"So?"
"So we're in Beijing."
Heechul just stared at him from behind those dark glasses. Hankyung capped his empty water bottle and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Heechul never asked for what he wanted, only ever waited for others to figure it out and give it to him. For all that he was known to be demanding, he never liked to say the words. Hankyung thought about Shenzhen, then thought about Seoul. He thought about why Heechul came with him to China every year.
"Shenzhen's down south," he said. "It'll be just as hot and twice as sticky."
Heechul's mouth twisted into a grimace.
"Let's go to Xi Dan," he said, and butchered the pronunciation as he always did. "They have big air-conditioned malls there. You can buy me something nice."
Hankyung laughed. "You wish." Heechul hit him. They hailed a cab even though a bus would've been cheaper, because Heechul didn't actually expect Hankyung to get him anything, and Hankyung couldn't have given him what he'd most wanted anyway.
There were some things in life you just couldn't have. Hankyung had accepted this fact years ago, but Heechul was only just now learning - harder and faster than Hankyung would have ever wanted him to. He couldn't fix it, but he could lend Heechul his sunglasses to hide behind: a barrier between the harsh realities of this world and the tear-stained dreams clattering to the ground in pieces.
At times, Heechul joked that he was as difficult to cater to as a princess. Oftentimes, Hankyung would agree vehemently, just to see Heechul annoyed, his dark eyes flashing. He'd swat Hankyung and they would end up sniping at each other, casually, familiarly, until at some point laughter would curve their mouths.
Hankyung didn't think Heechul was a princess, even if he occasionally did cater to his whims. He liked to see Heechul happy. But he didn't want Heechul to be trapped in his own fairy tales, waiting for a happily-ever-after that would never come. The world didn't work that way. Hankyung knew better than anyone what it was like to want something he could never have.
He remembered what it was like every time he saw a warm pair of brown eyes, a dimpled smile, a pair of broad shoulders, and everything he still hadn't stopped dreaming about.
"I hate Beijing," Heechul said without heat, sounding more exhausted than anything else. He collapsed onto the bed in a heap of awkward limbs and a cloud of white sheets. They floated towards the ceiling, suspended midair momentarily before gently drifting back onto the bed, spilling over Heechul's limp frame. They draped over his thin body almost artistically, Hankyung thought with a critical eye. He stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, as he contemplated angles and light and the contrast of Heechul's long dark hair against the white of the pillow, all cast in a harsh fluorescent glow.
He shook his head. He had never been a photographer. His art had been in a different field.
"Hey," he said with a laugh. "Get your lazy ass up if you want to eat." He hefted the plastic bag full of take-out boxes and hoped the aroma of freshly-cooked food wafted toward Heechul. "You're going to bitch if it gets cold, so you might as well get up and eat it now."
Heechul mumbled something into the pillow and waved a hand at Hankyung that translated loosely into, Fine, fine, give me a minute.
He left Heechul still sprawled on the bed and set the bag down on the kitchen table. It wasn't much, just a simple folding table with a wobbly leg he'd fixed with a bit of folded newspaper. The apartment this year was a little more run down than the ones they'd rented in previous years, but Hankyung didn't mind. He needed reminders of his roots as much as anyone; he had never been a spoiled child and he had never minded simple, bare furnishings.
His childhood had taught him the distinct line between what you had and what you didn't; it had taught him how to work for what he could have and how to recognize what was a futile gossamer dream. He had learned at an early age that he couldn't have everything he wanted.
The boxes were all out and open on the table, steaming and fragrant, when Heechul finally made his appearance, clothing rumpled and hair ruffled. He seemed unconcerned, running a hand down his face with a measure of exhaustion. His eyes brightened at the spread of food and the chopsticks set at his seat.
"You'd make a great wife, Kyungie," he purred as he sank into his chair.
"My life's aspiration," Hankyung returned with a grin, digging in. "You, however, would make a terrible husband."
Heechul's laugh was off when he snapped apart his take-out wooden chopsticks. "I would be neither husband nor wife," he said, and Hankyung realized he was bitter. "I would be the mistress."
His collar was skewed, one end flipped up and the other still folded down. The top few buttons of his shirt gaped open, revealing glimpses of a pale column of neck and a hint of collarbone. Hankyung looked at Heechul, too pale, too skinny, with wide dark eyes and long dark hair... He was still as sharp as ever, witty and sarcastic, teasing to show his affection, much as he had been when Hankyung had met him all those years ago.
But he seemed older - not just in appearance, which was inevitable with time - but in how he viewed the world. He was more cynical. His lashes hid his eyes as he kept eating, avoiding Hankyung's gaze.
Heechul had finally realized that fairy tales were a far cry from reality. In the real world, in red and gold China with its slate-blue skies and its muggy atmosphere; in chilly, bustling Seoul with its citylights and nightlife - here, there were no happily-ever-afters. Here, there were no Prince Charmings awaiting.
Instead, reality left you bent over take-out Chinese on a hot summer night in the middle of a city where you hoped to lose yourself, except everywhere you turned, there were reminders of him.
Hankyung remembered when he'd had another companion to Beijing.
"Let's see this," Siwon said excitedly, pointing at the guide book. "The new national theater! I can't believe it's shaped like an egg!"
"You have got to be kidding me." Heechul just looked at him incredulously, the scoff in his voice unmistakable.
Hankyung grinned. "It's not quite new, Siwon. It was built before the Olympics, you know. It's been a good five years." He had been before, too, when he visited friends who wanted to show off the China they felt like he no longer knew. Siwon had never gone before, though, limited in his past excursions to Beijing. His eyes were shining with excitement now, and Hankyung suspected that Heechul would cave before long. No one could resist Siwon's pleading looks or eager grins. Hankyung knew he couldn't.
Heechul would always put up a good fight though. He flung himself onto the couch - red, this year, faded but still comfortable - and crossed his arms. "The national theater," he demanded, arching a brow. "Really?"
He was like a long, thin slash of black against the red, his legs stretched out before him, his hair falling to his shoulders. He'd let it grow out these past few years and it reminded Hankyung of when they'd first met, back when people often mistook Heechul for a girl and Hankyung had had his life taken over by a whirlwind.
"Please?" Siwon was pouting, God save them. Ten years they had known each other and Siwon hadn't grown out of using underhanded tactics. It was really indicative of Heechul's influence, Hankyung reflected, privately amused.
Heechul knew it even as he sighed loudly. Hankyung could tell from the way he half-smiled, not quite the smirk he wore so often out of habit.
"Fine," he conceded, "but I get to pick where we have dinner."
Siwon and Hankyung groaned in unison, because Heechul had developed a thing for bitter melon recently. Anything that tastes this bad has to be good for you, he had insisted, running his palms over his cheeks and peering at his skin in the mirror. Siwon hated bitter melon and Hankyung was more than tired of it, after a week of searching for bitter melon dishes at every meal. It felt like he'd never strip the lingering taste from his tongue, he thought with a grimace. But Heechul always insisted, and for all that neither Heechul or Hankyung could resist Siwon's piteous expressions, Hankyung and Siwon found themselves even more helpless when it came to indulging Heechul's oft-unreasonable requests.
"Promise me." Heechul stared hard at them and Hankyung avoided his gaze unrepentantly. It was Siwon who gave in first, predictably.
"Okay," he said with that smile, warmer than the sunlight pouring in through the windows. His long legs carried him easily to the couch where he stood over Heechul with an extended hand and an invitation in his eyes. Hankyung watched Heechul tilt his head back and smile, real and sweet and rare, and felt a sharp pain in his heart. Heechul's murmur to Siwon was soft enough to be indistinct and Hankyung let his eyes travel up Siwon's body to rest on his face, familiar and loved and forever, he thought with an ache, out of his reach.
They had jobs. They had families. Neither of them had married yet, but life provided enough obligations, enough responsibilities, for them to know better. Their parents were waiting impatiently for grandchildren; their managers for concrete work products. Still, every summer they took a month to China, Heechul claiming to be working on his next great masterpiece, and Hankyung ostensibly on an extended business trip. It didn't matter for Heechul, not really, because he could write as well in China as he did in Korea: always tapping away at his laptop, sometimes into the early hours of the morning, stories of lost loves and newfound chances reflected in his glasses.
For Hankyung, it was almost as easy. He had bowed out of stardom after two unsatisfying years in China; it hadn't been the same without a group and he'd realized that, while he would never stop loving performing, he had grown tired of the life an idol. He owned a small chain of restaurants in Seoul now, successful partly on the back of his old fame, partly from the support of a wide network of friends. He had hired managers to oversee day-to-day business and found himself almost at a loss nowadays, without unending days of work, of lessons and rehearsal and filming and performances. He even missed the patterned wallpaper of his first restaurant, his first tentative try at something more than just a life of entertaining others, and the different kind of labor and sweat and tears it had required.
Now he was successful and money came easy and his mother was happy and well-off. All she wanted from him was a grandchild, and he hid from this last responsibility by living in Seoul and returning to Beijing only briefly: once for the new year, once for his mother's birthday, and once during the summer with Heechul.
And it was during this summer month, the hottest time of the year in Beijing, when Hankyung and Heechul lived on their own in bare bones apartments, remembering a simpler life, a harder one - but one that had boasted its own kind of happiness. It was this month they took to remember what things used to be like, silently sharing regrets, wordlessly exchanging old wishes.
Hankyung knew. Heechul knew. And that was enough for the both of them.
Things were different now, five years after the final goodbye stage. Things were different now that everyone had split up and gone in their own directions, pursuing their own lives. They were bound still by ties of friendship, but it was a thinner thread than constantly being in one another's personal space, living, breathing, and sharing the same air, the same history, the same jokes told over and over to the same laughter.
These trips to China had started fondly, Heechul wanting to see Hankyung back in his own country, building a career on the unsteady foundation of his former fame, and Siwon eagerly tagging along. Every time, Heechul had blasted Hankyung's new career, edges of hurt under his sarcasm, and a wealth of unspoken support beneath even that. Siwon had only ever been endlessly supportive.
The three of them had seen almost all Beijing had to offer, even after Hankyung had given up on his life as an idol; they had made it an annual trip: something just for them. Just because they were them.
Then one summer Siwon couldn't go.
Hankyung had known the day would come, but there was a blank, hollow look in Heechul's eyes when he arrived at the airport by himself.
Still, he smiled, a wide and patently false smile, as he slung an arm around Hankyung's shoulders, as Hankyung hefted his bag for him. "So Siwonnie finally got himself engaged," he said cheerfully. "We're invited to the wedding in December."
Six months until he had to watch Siwon get married, glowing and joyful. Six months until Heechul had to watch Siwon walk away with his bride at his arm, never knowing.
Hankyung tightened his hold on Heechul's waist even as a lump lodged itself high in his throat and his stomach turned. "Let's go drinking tonight." Sometimes forgetting was the best option.
Twelve years after they met, on a sultry blue-black night, Hankyung pressed Heechul into the bed and kissed him. The summer air stuck to their skin, clinging like the sweat that glistened in the pale moonlight as Hankyung stripped Heechul and traced his tongue down his chest. Heechul's gasps were soft, the grip of his hands was hard, and when he came, his eyes were squeezed shut, biting his lip.
Hankyung held onto his sharp, bony hips and kissed him again, flavors of bitter ash and regret in his mouth. They said nothing when they parted, rolling away from each other to lie side-by-side on the narrow bed in the darkness. There was a name, a face, a memory, trapped in their minds and caught behind their teeth. They said nothing, but they both knew.
Their fingers tangled in mutual understanding as they fell asleep, sheets pulled loosely over their bare bodies.
"How is Sooyeon?" Hankyung asked perfunctorily as he pulled his jacket off one arm then the other. He padded into the living room, where he draped it over the couch arm and stood for a moment, refamiliarizing himself with his Seoul condo.
Siwon's voice was pleased over the phone. "She's great. Really happy she's into the second trimester - the morning illness has mostly passed." He sounded so excited - and why wouldn't he? Five or six more months and then he would finally be a father to a precious little boy. Little could make him happier, Hankyung knew, except maybe if his wife had managed fraternal twins. How he'd dote on both a little boy and little girl.
The heavy feeling in his heart would never go away, Hankyung knew from experience. But he was adult enough to have learned to move past it. "That's great to hear," he told Siwon sincerely.
"Geng." Siwon hesitated, which made Hankyung take notice. It happened so rarely nowadays, now that Siwon had grown fully into himself: man, husband, and soon-to-be father.
"What's up, Siwon?"
"Sooyeon and I were talking about it and, well, I really wanted this and she agrees because you've both been so good to us and you know how important you are--"
Hankyung sank into the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. He waited as Siwon stumbled through his words then finally paused for breath. A heartbeat passed, and then Siwon said, earnestly, "I want you and Heechul to be godfathers."
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up in Hankyung's throat. He choked it down, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes.
"I would be honored," he said simply.
It was the truth. He was grateful every day for how important he still was to Siwon and how the other man worked to make him a part of his new, wedded life. He was grateful, even when it hurt.
He sat there for a long while after the call with Siwon ended. The phone buzzed twice under his hand (Zhou Mi, first on the screen, then his mother - and he would have to call her back, to let her know he'd arrived home safely) as he let his mind drift through the years, rifling through memories as if they were photographs. He couldn't remember the first time he'd met Siwon or the first time he'd realized how he'd felt, the years blurring so many of his firsts out of focus. But he remembered distinctly the first flushes of happiness, of giddiness, and how they'd faded into sober realization that this was not how the world worked. He remembered the pain, the resignation, the lasting, lingering looks Siwon never recognized. He remembered wistfulness, year after year, at first flaring up with every smile and eventually fading into the occasional happenstance.
As time passed, so too would the strength of his feelings.
They would never disappear, but at least Hankyung had learned to live with them.
He suspected he would marry soon, a nice girl his mother approved of, a Chinese girl a friend introduced him to. She would have a sweet smile, a keen sense of humor, and soft, gentle hands. He'd like her, maybe even grow to love her.
She'd never be him. But it wouldn't be fair to expect her, or want her, to be. He would accept her for who she was.
And such time had passed that where Heechul once would have reamed into him, furious at the very idea of settling, Hankyung knew that if he were to tell Heechul now that he were engaged, Heechul would only laugh that bitter laugh. He'd flick his fingers at Hankyung, imperious, assuming as always Hankyung's full attention.
"You better teach her to speak Korean," he'd say with a lazy smirk, "because she'll feel crazy left out otherwise."
But then he'd press his cheek against Hankyung's, holding him close, and whisper, "Congratulations."
They'd both know what went unsaid, between the spaces of their heartbeats.
There were some things in life you just couldn't have. Hankyung had learned this years ago, and relearned it every day. So he'd bring a hand up to Heechul's hair, longer than ever, and stroke it carefully as he whispered back, "Thank you. Be my best man?"
And when one day Hankyung stood up in front a crowd of family and friends, Heechul waiting at his side, looking down an aisle for someone to spend his future with...Siwon would sit in that crowd, beaming and clutching someone else's hand, happy for him and never, ever knowing he'd broken both his best friends' hearts.
Some secrets were better left untold.
--
Started: 2009.07.06
Finished: 2009.07.07
black_goose because I ♥ her and she deserves a reminder that all she needs from fandom are the awesome parts. Ilu bb.(This is also for Heechul's birthday, because it's the 10th in Korea and here in Beijing so stfu, rest of the world, lol. I love you, Kim Heechul. You are fucking amazing.)
China Blue Nevers
Super Junior, Siwon/Hankyung/Heechul, PG-13, 4025 words
There are some things in life you just can't have, because Siwon is never meant to know.
China Blue Nevers
by
meifaceThe sky was ashy blue, no stars in sight and no distinguishable clouds. There was a thin haze filming over the world, trapping in the day's heat even after the sun had disappeared; though it was cooler, the night was still muggy, the air still clinging to skin with damp resolution.
"I can't even breathe without sweating," Heechul complained, lying half-naked on the couch and fanning himself half-heartedly with a magazine. "Why is it like this?"
Hankyung had let Heechul have the couch in what Heechul assumed was graciousness, spread out instead on the floor. He didn't bother to tell Heechul that the wooden slats of the floor were much cooler than the fabric couch could possibly be.
"It's summer," he said, eyes closed as he remained very, very still in hopes that it would keep him cooler.
"Seoul isn't like this."
Hankyung let the snarled complaint pass. He knew that Heechul knew the differences between Seoul and Beijing. They had been traveling here for years, often during the summer, and every time it was the same stifling heat. Every time, Heechul still whined and groused and muttered disparaging comments about China's weather, as if the country itself were responsible for or capable of changing such things. Hankyung didn't mind. He loved Beijing, and he knew Heechul knew that. For all his unflattering remarks, Heechul still came with Hankyung every time.
The fan whirred quietly in the corner, barely stirring the air enough for a breeze. It was little comfort in the face of a long, muggy night with a broken AC. Next time they came, Hankyung would have to remember to get a guarantee that not only did their short-term apartment include an air-conditioning unit, but also that said air-conditioning unit actually worked.
So much for good faith, he thought grumpily. But then he sucked in a lungful of breath and blew it back out in a silent exhale, letting go of his irritation. It would do no good now, and it was too hot besides.
They laid in the dark, unspeaking, for a while. Lights were kept off to discourage insects that would no doubt drift through their open balcony door and windows and find victims rendered easy by their disinclination to move. Outside, under the charcoal and blue sky, they could hear muffled sounds of traffic and people. Commotion once removed, made distant by the barrier of the thick, sticky air.
Hankyung slid a hand down his bare stomach and tucked it under the waistband of his boxers. He listened to Heechul sigh, a shade too lazy to be impatient, and the flutter of glossy pages as he waved the magazine listlessly. It felt like they were waiting for something, but Hankyung didn't know what.
"Do you want to see my school?" Hankyung asked Heechul once on a trip back to Beijing. He shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand and regretted handing his sunglasses over to Heechul earlier.
Heechul's expression was inscrutable behind Hankyung's sunglasses and the sweet milk popsicle at his mouth. "Why would I want to see your school?" His lips were pink and wet as he smacked them loudly, obnoxious because he could be. Hankyung didn't know why he still put up with him all this time.
"What's so special about your school?" Heechul demanded. "Is it in an air-conditioned dome? Because if it's just walking around in the sun looking at some old buildings you used to go to class in, thanks but no thanks."
Hankyung rolled his eyes. "Then you pick and hurry up. It's practically forty degrees out here today." Forty degrees in bright sunlight, standing on a curb beside the newsstand where Heechul had just bought a popsicle. He'd gotten his own this time, but of course he'd only smiled widely as he bought just one for himself. He didn't offer to get Hankyung one. Hankyung didn't ask. He'd known Heechul for far too long - long enough to understand his quirks and his games.
He'd bought a cold bottle of water instead and tipped it back to finish it off now, as Heechul licked his lips and threw the popsicle stick onto the ground.
"You know, you complain about China being so dirty and then you do things like that. We have trash cans, you know. Recycling bins, even."
Heechul ignored Hankyung's raised eyebrow, only lifting a hand to rub a thumb along Hankyung's mouth, where condensation and slipped down the outside of his bottle and down his chin. "I wouldn't mind seeing where you first danced," he said.
Hankyung tugged at the brim of his baseball cap, squinting into the street. The mess of traffic - cars, bikes, motorcycles, and an endless stream of people - all looked like a mirage, hazy in the heat. "That's in Shenzhen, Heechul."
"So?"
"So we're in Beijing."
Heechul just stared at him from behind those dark glasses. Hankyung capped his empty water bottle and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Heechul never asked for what he wanted, only ever waited for others to figure it out and give it to him. For all that he was known to be demanding, he never liked to say the words. Hankyung thought about Shenzhen, then thought about Seoul. He thought about why Heechul came with him to China every year.
"Shenzhen's down south," he said. "It'll be just as hot and twice as sticky."
Heechul's mouth twisted into a grimace.
"Let's go to Xi Dan," he said, and butchered the pronunciation as he always did. "They have big air-conditioned malls there. You can buy me something nice."
Hankyung laughed. "You wish." Heechul hit him. They hailed a cab even though a bus would've been cheaper, because Heechul didn't actually expect Hankyung to get him anything, and Hankyung couldn't have given him what he'd most wanted anyway.
There were some things in life you just couldn't have. Hankyung had accepted this fact years ago, but Heechul was only just now learning - harder and faster than Hankyung would have ever wanted him to. He couldn't fix it, but he could lend Heechul his sunglasses to hide behind: a barrier between the harsh realities of this world and the tear-stained dreams clattering to the ground in pieces.
At times, Heechul joked that he was as difficult to cater to as a princess. Oftentimes, Hankyung would agree vehemently, just to see Heechul annoyed, his dark eyes flashing. He'd swat Hankyung and they would end up sniping at each other, casually, familiarly, until at some point laughter would curve their mouths.
Hankyung didn't think Heechul was a princess, even if he occasionally did cater to his whims. He liked to see Heechul happy. But he didn't want Heechul to be trapped in his own fairy tales, waiting for a happily-ever-after that would never come. The world didn't work that way. Hankyung knew better than anyone what it was like to want something he could never have.
He remembered what it was like every time he saw a warm pair of brown eyes, a dimpled smile, a pair of broad shoulders, and everything he still hadn't stopped dreaming about.
"I hate Beijing," Heechul said without heat, sounding more exhausted than anything else. He collapsed onto the bed in a heap of awkward limbs and a cloud of white sheets. They floated towards the ceiling, suspended midair momentarily before gently drifting back onto the bed, spilling over Heechul's limp frame. They draped over his thin body almost artistically, Hankyung thought with a critical eye. He stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, as he contemplated angles and light and the contrast of Heechul's long dark hair against the white of the pillow, all cast in a harsh fluorescent glow.
He shook his head. He had never been a photographer. His art had been in a different field.
"Hey," he said with a laugh. "Get your lazy ass up if you want to eat." He hefted the plastic bag full of take-out boxes and hoped the aroma of freshly-cooked food wafted toward Heechul. "You're going to bitch if it gets cold, so you might as well get up and eat it now."
Heechul mumbled something into the pillow and waved a hand at Hankyung that translated loosely into, Fine, fine, give me a minute.
He left Heechul still sprawled on the bed and set the bag down on the kitchen table. It wasn't much, just a simple folding table with a wobbly leg he'd fixed with a bit of folded newspaper. The apartment this year was a little more run down than the ones they'd rented in previous years, but Hankyung didn't mind. He needed reminders of his roots as much as anyone; he had never been a spoiled child and he had never minded simple, bare furnishings.
His childhood had taught him the distinct line between what you had and what you didn't; it had taught him how to work for what he could have and how to recognize what was a futile gossamer dream. He had learned at an early age that he couldn't have everything he wanted.
The boxes were all out and open on the table, steaming and fragrant, when Heechul finally made his appearance, clothing rumpled and hair ruffled. He seemed unconcerned, running a hand down his face with a measure of exhaustion. His eyes brightened at the spread of food and the chopsticks set at his seat.
"You'd make a great wife, Kyungie," he purred as he sank into his chair.
"My life's aspiration," Hankyung returned with a grin, digging in. "You, however, would make a terrible husband."
Heechul's laugh was off when he snapped apart his take-out wooden chopsticks. "I would be neither husband nor wife," he said, and Hankyung realized he was bitter. "I would be the mistress."
His collar was skewed, one end flipped up and the other still folded down. The top few buttons of his shirt gaped open, revealing glimpses of a pale column of neck and a hint of collarbone. Hankyung looked at Heechul, too pale, too skinny, with wide dark eyes and long dark hair... He was still as sharp as ever, witty and sarcastic, teasing to show his affection, much as he had been when Hankyung had met him all those years ago.
But he seemed older - not just in appearance, which was inevitable with time - but in how he viewed the world. He was more cynical. His lashes hid his eyes as he kept eating, avoiding Hankyung's gaze.
Heechul had finally realized that fairy tales were a far cry from reality. In the real world, in red and gold China with its slate-blue skies and its muggy atmosphere; in chilly, bustling Seoul with its citylights and nightlife - here, there were no happily-ever-afters. Here, there were no Prince Charmings awaiting.
Instead, reality left you bent over take-out Chinese on a hot summer night in the middle of a city where you hoped to lose yourself, except everywhere you turned, there were reminders of him.
Hankyung remembered when he'd had another companion to Beijing.
"Let's see this," Siwon said excitedly, pointing at the guide book. "The new national theater! I can't believe it's shaped like an egg!"
"You have got to be kidding me." Heechul just looked at him incredulously, the scoff in his voice unmistakable.
Hankyung grinned. "It's not quite new, Siwon. It was built before the Olympics, you know. It's been a good five years." He had been before, too, when he visited friends who wanted to show off the China they felt like he no longer knew. Siwon had never gone before, though, limited in his past excursions to Beijing. His eyes were shining with excitement now, and Hankyung suspected that Heechul would cave before long. No one could resist Siwon's pleading looks or eager grins. Hankyung knew he couldn't.
Heechul would always put up a good fight though. He flung himself onto the couch - red, this year, faded but still comfortable - and crossed his arms. "The national theater," he demanded, arching a brow. "Really?"
He was like a long, thin slash of black against the red, his legs stretched out before him, his hair falling to his shoulders. He'd let it grow out these past few years and it reminded Hankyung of when they'd first met, back when people often mistook Heechul for a girl and Hankyung had had his life taken over by a whirlwind.
"Please?" Siwon was pouting, God save them. Ten years they had known each other and Siwon hadn't grown out of using underhanded tactics. It was really indicative of Heechul's influence, Hankyung reflected, privately amused.
Heechul knew it even as he sighed loudly. Hankyung could tell from the way he half-smiled, not quite the smirk he wore so often out of habit.
"Fine," he conceded, "but I get to pick where we have dinner."
Siwon and Hankyung groaned in unison, because Heechul had developed a thing for bitter melon recently. Anything that tastes this bad has to be good for you, he had insisted, running his palms over his cheeks and peering at his skin in the mirror. Siwon hated bitter melon and Hankyung was more than tired of it, after a week of searching for bitter melon dishes at every meal. It felt like he'd never strip the lingering taste from his tongue, he thought with a grimace. But Heechul always insisted, and for all that neither Heechul or Hankyung could resist Siwon's piteous expressions, Hankyung and Siwon found themselves even more helpless when it came to indulging Heechul's oft-unreasonable requests.
"Promise me." Heechul stared hard at them and Hankyung avoided his gaze unrepentantly. It was Siwon who gave in first, predictably.
"Okay," he said with that smile, warmer than the sunlight pouring in through the windows. His long legs carried him easily to the couch where he stood over Heechul with an extended hand and an invitation in his eyes. Hankyung watched Heechul tilt his head back and smile, real and sweet and rare, and felt a sharp pain in his heart. Heechul's murmur to Siwon was soft enough to be indistinct and Hankyung let his eyes travel up Siwon's body to rest on his face, familiar and loved and forever, he thought with an ache, out of his reach.
They had jobs. They had families. Neither of them had married yet, but life provided enough obligations, enough responsibilities, for them to know better. Their parents were waiting impatiently for grandchildren; their managers for concrete work products. Still, every summer they took a month to China, Heechul claiming to be working on his next great masterpiece, and Hankyung ostensibly on an extended business trip. It didn't matter for Heechul, not really, because he could write as well in China as he did in Korea: always tapping away at his laptop, sometimes into the early hours of the morning, stories of lost loves and newfound chances reflected in his glasses.
For Hankyung, it was almost as easy. He had bowed out of stardom after two unsatisfying years in China; it hadn't been the same without a group and he'd realized that, while he would never stop loving performing, he had grown tired of the life an idol. He owned a small chain of restaurants in Seoul now, successful partly on the back of his old fame, partly from the support of a wide network of friends. He had hired managers to oversee day-to-day business and found himself almost at a loss nowadays, without unending days of work, of lessons and rehearsal and filming and performances. He even missed the patterned wallpaper of his first restaurant, his first tentative try at something more than just a life of entertaining others, and the different kind of labor and sweat and tears it had required.
Now he was successful and money came easy and his mother was happy and well-off. All she wanted from him was a grandchild, and he hid from this last responsibility by living in Seoul and returning to Beijing only briefly: once for the new year, once for his mother's birthday, and once during the summer with Heechul.
And it was during this summer month, the hottest time of the year in Beijing, when Hankyung and Heechul lived on their own in bare bones apartments, remembering a simpler life, a harder one - but one that had boasted its own kind of happiness. It was this month they took to remember what things used to be like, silently sharing regrets, wordlessly exchanging old wishes.
Hankyung knew. Heechul knew. And that was enough for the both of them.
Things were different now, five years after the final goodbye stage. Things were different now that everyone had split up and gone in their own directions, pursuing their own lives. They were bound still by ties of friendship, but it was a thinner thread than constantly being in one another's personal space, living, breathing, and sharing the same air, the same history, the same jokes told over and over to the same laughter.
These trips to China had started fondly, Heechul wanting to see Hankyung back in his own country, building a career on the unsteady foundation of his former fame, and Siwon eagerly tagging along. Every time, Heechul had blasted Hankyung's new career, edges of hurt under his sarcasm, and a wealth of unspoken support beneath even that. Siwon had only ever been endlessly supportive.
The three of them had seen almost all Beijing had to offer, even after Hankyung had given up on his life as an idol; they had made it an annual trip: something just for them. Just because they were them.
Then one summer Siwon couldn't go.
Hankyung had known the day would come, but there was a blank, hollow look in Heechul's eyes when he arrived at the airport by himself.
Still, he smiled, a wide and patently false smile, as he slung an arm around Hankyung's shoulders, as Hankyung hefted his bag for him. "So Siwonnie finally got himself engaged," he said cheerfully. "We're invited to the wedding in December."
Six months until he had to watch Siwon get married, glowing and joyful. Six months until Heechul had to watch Siwon walk away with his bride at his arm, never knowing.
Hankyung tightened his hold on Heechul's waist even as a lump lodged itself high in his throat and his stomach turned. "Let's go drinking tonight." Sometimes forgetting was the best option.
Twelve years after they met, on a sultry blue-black night, Hankyung pressed Heechul into the bed and kissed him. The summer air stuck to their skin, clinging like the sweat that glistened in the pale moonlight as Hankyung stripped Heechul and traced his tongue down his chest. Heechul's gasps were soft, the grip of his hands was hard, and when he came, his eyes were squeezed shut, biting his lip.
Hankyung held onto his sharp, bony hips and kissed him again, flavors of bitter ash and regret in his mouth. They said nothing when they parted, rolling away from each other to lie side-by-side on the narrow bed in the darkness. There was a name, a face, a memory, trapped in their minds and caught behind their teeth. They said nothing, but they both knew.
Their fingers tangled in mutual understanding as they fell asleep, sheets pulled loosely over their bare bodies.
"How is Sooyeon?" Hankyung asked perfunctorily as he pulled his jacket off one arm then the other. He padded into the living room, where he draped it over the couch arm and stood for a moment, refamiliarizing himself with his Seoul condo.
Siwon's voice was pleased over the phone. "She's great. Really happy she's into the second trimester - the morning illness has mostly passed." He sounded so excited - and why wouldn't he? Five or six more months and then he would finally be a father to a precious little boy. Little could make him happier, Hankyung knew, except maybe if his wife had managed fraternal twins. How he'd dote on both a little boy and little girl.
The heavy feeling in his heart would never go away, Hankyung knew from experience. But he was adult enough to have learned to move past it. "That's great to hear," he told Siwon sincerely.
"Geng." Siwon hesitated, which made Hankyung take notice. It happened so rarely nowadays, now that Siwon had grown fully into himself: man, husband, and soon-to-be father.
"What's up, Siwon?"
"Sooyeon and I were talking about it and, well, I really wanted this and she agrees because you've both been so good to us and you know how important you are--"
Hankyung sank into the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. He waited as Siwon stumbled through his words then finally paused for breath. A heartbeat passed, and then Siwon said, earnestly, "I want you and Heechul to be godfathers."
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up in Hankyung's throat. He choked it down, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes.
"I would be honored," he said simply.
It was the truth. He was grateful every day for how important he still was to Siwon and how the other man worked to make him a part of his new, wedded life. He was grateful, even when it hurt.
He sat there for a long while after the call with Siwon ended. The phone buzzed twice under his hand (Zhou Mi, first on the screen, then his mother - and he would have to call her back, to let her know he'd arrived home safely) as he let his mind drift through the years, rifling through memories as if they were photographs. He couldn't remember the first time he'd met Siwon or the first time he'd realized how he'd felt, the years blurring so many of his firsts out of focus. But he remembered distinctly the first flushes of happiness, of giddiness, and how they'd faded into sober realization that this was not how the world worked. He remembered the pain, the resignation, the lasting, lingering looks Siwon never recognized. He remembered wistfulness, year after year, at first flaring up with every smile and eventually fading into the occasional happenstance.
As time passed, so too would the strength of his feelings.
They would never disappear, but at least Hankyung had learned to live with them.
He suspected he would marry soon, a nice girl his mother approved of, a Chinese girl a friend introduced him to. She would have a sweet smile, a keen sense of humor, and soft, gentle hands. He'd like her, maybe even grow to love her.
She'd never be him. But it wouldn't be fair to expect her, or want her, to be. He would accept her for who she was.
And such time had passed that where Heechul once would have reamed into him, furious at the very idea of settling, Hankyung knew that if he were to tell Heechul now that he were engaged, Heechul would only laugh that bitter laugh. He'd flick his fingers at Hankyung, imperious, assuming as always Hankyung's full attention.
"You better teach her to speak Korean," he'd say with a lazy smirk, "because she'll feel crazy left out otherwise."
But then he'd press his cheek against Hankyung's, holding him close, and whisper, "Congratulations."
They'd both know what went unsaid, between the spaces of their heartbeats.
There were some things in life you just couldn't have. Hankyung had learned this years ago, and relearned it every day. So he'd bring a hand up to Heechul's hair, longer than ever, and stroke it carefully as he whispered back, "Thank you. Be my best man?"
And when one day Hankyung stood up in front a crowd of family and friends, Heechul waiting at his side, looking down an aisle for someone to spend his future with...Siwon would sit in that crowd, beaming and clutching someone else's hand, happy for him and never, ever knowing he'd broken both his best friends' hearts.
Some secrets were better left untold.
--
Started: 2009.07.06
Finished: 2009.07.07
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