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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years ago

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For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @jamies-kpop-reactions

A/N: This was originally the final chapter of this fic, but there will be more! Please bear with me on the completion of this story!

Chapter 13: Belong

The S.M. New Year’s party had been hosted at the same banquet hall for as long as I could remember. It was a fancy sort of place that made me feel out of place first as a child, then as a teenager, and then as an adult as I walked at Baekhyun’s side, heels clicking against the shining white marble floor.

My insecurity started to melt with the first whispers of, “Wow, is that Lei? She looks so grown up,” and, “She looks pretty.” Although flattered, I wasn’t vain enough to steal a glance at my reflection in the overhead mirrored ceiling. Still, I couldn’t quite bite back my smile as I brought my fingers up to graze the soft petals of my flower crown.

My smile didn’t falter until the whispers changed— dropped so that I had to strain to hear.

“Is she walking with Baekhyun?”

“Isn’t he a little too old for her?”

“They’re a bit bold, aren’t they— matching each other like that?”

“Anyway, they’re a very pretty couple, right?”

I stiffened at Baekhyun’s side because this was my old nightmare— being associated with a dating scandal— come to life. My steps slowed and then almost stopped altogether when I looked up at our reflections and saw what everyone else saw: Me and Baekhyun standing too close together, wearing clothes crafted from the same sparkling midnight blue material, donning similar silver masks, accenting our formal attire with white roses— mine atop my head, Baekhyun’s in the suit pocket over his heart. I had never been to a prom, owing to the fact that I had been homeschooled, but Baekhyun and I looked like what I imagined a prom king and queen would look like.

It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing had we made any deliberate effort to match. It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing had my heart not been swelling with the excitement of finding Taemin, who had planned to subtly coordinate his appearance with mine. It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing had I not devoted much of my free time leading up to that night to reading that story about Baekhyun. It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing had I not tripped, drawing a collective gasp from everyone in the room.

As if enacting a scene from a drama— or, worse, from that story— Baekhyun caught me around the waist and gently pulled me upright. While I tried (and failed) to fit my foot back into my shoe, Baekhyun kept his arm loosely laced around my waist, muttering, “You’re already tripping over yourself, and you haven’t even had anything to drink yet.”

His efforts to keep me on my feet and paint a smile onto my blushing face only fueled the spreading belief that we were attending the party as a couple. Because I was using Baekhyun as a crutch, I couldn’t flinch away from him as my instincts begged. I just had to set my jaw and brave the whispers.

From the other side of the room, someone bellowed, “Are you okay?” I didn’t have to glance over to see him, hands forming a megaphone around his mouth, to know that the voice belonged to Na Jaemin.

Humiliated beyond all comprehension by the attention, I retreated into Baekhyun’s embrace and quietly watched as he dismissed Jaemin’s concern with the wave of his hand. The SuperM table couldn’t have been more than five feet away, but the rest of that walk seemed to take a lifetime.

In that lifetime, I hadn’t gathered the nerve to speak before settling into the space next to Lucas. What little confidence I had recovered dissipated at the sight of Chanyeol, who stood, chortling with Ten. Ten, at least, once he met my eyes, had the decency to drop his laughter at my expense into his champagne glass. Chanyeol, emboldened by our longtime mutual hatred, made no effort to disguise his laughter.

My eternal complaint about the New Year’s party: there were no chairs at the tall tables. Mom explained again and again that the lack of seats was meant to encourage mingling among staff and artists. Anyway, being a lady wearing a dress, I couldn’t plop onto the floor to fix my shoe. I steadied myself against the table and, leaning into Lucas as he asked, “Are you alright, Lei? It kinda looked like your trip hurt,” I tried to secure the back strap of the shoe around my heel.

Voice snipped short by embarrassment, I hissed, “It did hurt,” which only tickled Chanyeol further.

I barely had the time to glance at Taemin (who I had been most excited to see) looking absolutely beautiful even in his white mask at Kai’s side on the opposite side of the table, before Mark demanded my attention. Panting after his sprint from NCT Dream’s table, he asked, “Yo, Lei, are you okay?”

Thinking that it would have been easier to overcome my burning blush and the faint throbbing of my foot if everyone could agree to a) stop asking if I was okay and b) stop laughing, I nodded. “Yeah, Mark.”

“Good.” Mark grabbed a champagne glass and chugged the drink in one sip. “You shouldn't be embarrassed, you know. Everyone has clumsy moments. Remember when I fell on my way to the bathroom during our flight to America?”

While Kai and Lucas, at Mark’s remark, joined Chanyeol and Ten in laughter, I shook my head, “No.” Even if I had remembered Mark’s fall, I would have lied. I could never really find the humor in that kind of embarrassment.

“You were a little busy,” Lucas acknowledged, draping an arm over my shoulders and glancing indiscreetly at Taemin (who stared at me and deepened my blush), “so let me tell you that Mark’s fall was, like, the funniest thing in the history of all time.”

Chanyeol snorted. “Look, there’s no way anything has ever been funnier than our princess—” he referenced my branding snidely— “nearly busting her ass in front of everyone.”

Earning a glare from Taeyong, Ten reasoned, “Actually, based on the trajectory of her fall, had Baekhyun not reached out as Prince Charming, the princess would’ve busted her face.”

There was an important distinction between Chanyeol and Ten: Ten was my friend, and Chanyeol was not. Ten’s teasing, although occasionally annoying, was harmless. Ten always had my back when it counted. Bearing that in mind, for Ten’s sake, I tried to repress the eternal urge to tear into Chanyeol. I just looked at Taemin, hoping that his small supportive smile would brighten the night.

Evidently determined to improve my mood, Mark smiled at me too. “You look really pretty, Lei.”

Baekhyun, bored with having been quiet for so long, leaned onto the table and asked, batting his eyelashes, “What about me?”

Wide-eyed, Mark realized, “Oh, wow! You’re matching!” which compelled everyone at the table to look at me and Baekhyun with renewed interest. Perhaps noticing that I squirmed with discomfort, fixing my eyes anywhere except Taemin and Baekhyun, Mark added, “There’s nothing wrong with that! I coordinated with NCT Dream to wear chewing gum pink!”

In the moment, I couldn’t even appreciate how cute that was. Nobody else responded to Mark either.

Poorly masking his smirk behind his glass, Ten stretched across the table to study Taemin’s reaction to his question, “What do you think about that, Taemin? Lei matching Baekhyun, I mean.”

Maybe Ten was disappointed that Taemin didn’t glance at him for even the briefest second, or maybe he was more satisfied that Taemin didn’t look away from me as he answered, “I think she looks beautiful.”

A collection of my thoughts in that moment:

Taemin was embarrassing me.

He was being way too obvious about our relationship— right in front of that idiot Chanyeol.

My heart was going to beat out of my chest if he didn’t stop looking at me like that.

I didn’t want him to look away.

This blush would never fade.

If Taemin was jealous of Jaemin’s earlier concern and my accidental matching with Baekhyun that was obvious enough for Mark to notice (and, knowing Taemin’s temperament, he probably was), I wouldn’t hear about it until later if (when) he climbed in through my bedroom window.

Taemin watched me, cocking his head aside, so I opened my mouth to thank him for the compliment, but before I could make our relationship any more obvious to onlookers, Chanyeol interrupted with his lack of manners. “Is that why you tripped over yourself, princess? Were you admiring your own reflection in the ceiling or the fact that you already have someone else to cling to?”

Initially, I silently gasped at Chanyeol’s indirect reference Sehun— the first (and maybe only) person I had ever clung to without caring who saw. Then, I remembered that if Chanyeol was here, Sehun couldn’t have been far behind; they were always kind of inseparable. My blood went cold. My heart stopped beating.

No, I didn’t want to avoid Sehun anymore. I wanted to abandon that habit after he had been honest with me about his feelings. But maybe, I realized with a frown, he wanted to avoid me. Maybe he needed to avoid me for a while so that one day he could look at me without wincing. I understood— I avoided him because I thought that would lessen the pain in my chest— but I was still disappointed.

I must have looked as guilty as I felt. Chanyeol rolled his eyes at me and set his glass down with a thud. At my side, Baekhyun recoiled. Eyes fixed on the black table cloth, Baekhyun protectively reached for the glass and shielded it with his hands. Chanyeol didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t want anymore to drink. Maybe he didn’t even notice Baekhyun’s actions because his eyes— wide, protruding— were burning through me.

I won’t pretend to be an expert on Sehun, but I knew how he used to defend me from Chanyeol’s temper when I was a kid. I knew that the Sehun who begged me to admit just once that I loved him wouldn’t have encouraged Chanyeol to look at me and speak to me as if I were the cruelest person alive. Because I didn’t care what Chanyeol thought— I cared what Sehun thought— that fact comforted me.

Refusing to allow Chanyeol to drown me in guilt after I apologized to Sehun, after Lucas promised that I had done nothing wrong, when I was already sorry enough for the years wasted holding a grudge against somebody I loved without Chanyeol’s reminders, I returned his glare. He didn’t know what he was talking about, as usual. There was no doubt in my mind that Sehun, who struggled to reveal his heart to me, hadn’t bared his deepest feelings to Chanyeol, so I huffed, “Why don’t you just shut the hell up, Chanyeol? Isn’t there somebody else you can talk to?”

“Nope,” he retorted, knuckles turning white. “Not that it’s any of your business— not that you would even give a shit— but the only person I really want to talk to stayed home because he has ‘the flu.’”

My feelings, wounded by the confirmation that Sehun was avoiding me, were nothing compared to my concern for him. Blinking, I tried to dismiss the pain of knowing that there was nothing I could say to rush us through this period of healing. Blinking, I assured myself again and again that it was okay.

Although Sehun couldn’t hear me, I promised in the piece of my heart that he would hold forever that I wouldn’t hold any grudge. Without holding my breath, I would wait until he was ready to speak to me again. Before I fell in love with Taemin, I had abandoned the hope that things with Sehun would ever be like they once were. Before I fell in love with Taemin, I had outgrown the childish unreciprocated love for Sehun that defined much of my youth. I couldn’t have followed him forever.

However, I had recently adopted the belief that friendship with Sehun didn’t have to be confined to the past. No, I couldn’t love Sehun (or anybody) the way I used to, but I didn’t believe that such a pure love could ever fade forever. It would only grow into something better, something purer, something more infinite. Chanyeol’s rage couldn’t steal that belief from me.

Missing Chanyeol’s air quotes around the word ‘flu,’ Mark’s brow furrowed in genuine concern. Undeniably referencing Mom’s illness (which he hadn’t accepted was fake) that excused her from Donghae’s birthday party, he sulked, “Someone else has the flu?”

As if joking without the faintest trace of a smile, Baekhyun muttered, “It’s been an active flu season.” Because he spoke so quietly, I’m sure that I’m the only person who heard.

“See?” Chanyeol’s fists struck the table, and the glass would have fallen over had Baekhyun not held it secure in his hands. “You’re completely heartless, Lei! I’ll never understand what anyone sees in you!”

Those kinds of remarks— the kind that are meant to strike me silent— have always set me ablaze with burning indignation. Fitting my hands over my hips, probably transforming before Chanyeol’s eyes into the child he always despised, I scoffed, “Yeah, well, whatever will I do without your love and devotion, Chanyeol?” much to Ten’s delight.

Chanyeol’s jaw tensed. “You’ve always been like this— a total smart ass!” I winked, and he continued, “You just say what you want and do what you want without respecting your elders or caring who you hurt. And somehow, everyone around you thinks it’s endearing or some shit, but I’m here to remind you that it’s not.”

Cutting his eyes at Chanyeol as his grip around the glass tightened, Baekhyun started, “Look, whatever your problem is—”

But— surprise— Chanyeol wouldn’t let Baekhyun speak. Still glaring at me, Chanyeol challenged, “Aren’t you even going to try to deny it? I guess you can’t, but aren’t you even going to apologize?”

I shook my head. “The last time I checked, I hadn’t said anything to you that I regret.”

Chanyeol blinked at me. “So you don’t regret telling me to shut the hell up?”

“Nope.” Despite my annoyance, I smiled— the big, tooth showing sort of smile— and I understood why Chanyeol didn’t like me. “I stand by that and every other thing I’ve said in my life.”

That wasn’t true, exactly, but I tried to live with the satisfaction of having always said what I meant. Maybe I was prompted to say things that I would regret because I felt the remorse of having left some past truths unsaid. I could always apologize once I realized that I was wrong or I hurt somebody with my honesty; I could never turn back time and say what I wanted to say once the moment passed.

“There you go again,” Chanyeol huffed, “thinking that you’re infallible, failing to admit—”

“I’m not apologizing to you, Chanyeol, for telling the truth. I’m not apologizing because S—” I choked on Sehun’s name— “somebody else is hurt.” No, I wouldn’t tell Chanyeol that I had already apologized to Sehun. It wasn’t his business. “You’re not entitled to any fragment of my heart.”

Before I could brace myself for Chanyeol’s response, a cool, calm hand rested on my shoulder. It belonged to Suho, who asked first, “Are you okay, Lei?”

I didn’t know if he was referring to my earlier trip or the long-winded public scolding from Chanyeol, but the answer to both questions was the same. “Yes.”

I turned to catch Suho’s brief smile before his disapproving scowl settled on Chanyeol. “Don’t you think you’re being too loud?” His voice was quiet, but it held a gentle authority that instantly made me feel ashamed for responding to Chanyeol at all.

Although Suho’s question was not one that requested an answer, Chanyeol retorted, “I’m being just as loud as I want to be!”

It wasn’t until Suho’s hold on my shoulder trembled that I noticed them: Yesung and Siwon, scowling, followed closely by the evilly smiling Kyuhyun. There was something dangerous about the twitching of Yesung’s left eye as he descended on the table. Were it not for Suho’s protective grip and the crowd of spectators that gathered to watch me argue with Chanyeol trapping me in place, I would have run out of the banquet hall before Yesung started yelling.

“What the hell is going on around here?” Before Chanyeol could prove whether he was stupid enough to argue with Yesung, Yesung continued, “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Yesung must not have been looking for an answer. Pointing at me without looking away from Chanyeol, he seethed, “She is ours—” he gestured to himself, Siwon, and Kyuhyun— “and if you have a problem with her, you have a problem with us!”

To demonstrate their solidarity, Siwon stood with his arms— clearly muscular under his fitted black button-down shirt— crossed over his chest, and Kyuhyun abandoned his smile to form his eyebrows into sharp angles. They meant well, I guessed, because Super Junior always meant well, but as I noticed the sea of spectators rising around us, I thought that if it were possible to die from embarrassment, I would have died in Suho’s arms.

Mom’s appearance interrupted Yesung’s futile efforts to force Chanyeol to apologize.

Having no sense of when to keep his mouth shut, Lucas leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Dude, at least Mom looks hot.” That was his version of finding the bright side, I guess.

I rolled my eyes, but Mom did look even prettier than usual. Her hair was shiny and sleek even in the dim lighting, and her lips were painted a pretty shade of scarlet that complimented her sparkly red pantsuit. It was too ambitious to hope that I would grow to be as beautiful as my mother.

“Are you okay, Lei?” She asked, tracing her fingers over one of the roses in my crown. “If your heel broke, or if your feet hurt, I have another pair of flats in the car.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine, Mom.” My voice sounded small compared to Yesung’s roar.

Nodding, Mom turned to Yesung and Chanyeol. “What’s going on here?”

Nobody got the chance to answer her, though. While Baekhyun whined to Suho, “I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure Lei broke my big toe when she tripped over me,” and Suho responded, “I’m sorry you’re hurt, but I doubt it’s broken—” and Baekhyun retorted, “It’s throbbing, Junmyeon!” and Suho maintained, “You wouldn’t be able to stand if it were broken,” the other members of Super Junior arrived to sink the night further into the dark depths of chaos.

They were led by Shindong, who threw Taeyong and Ten aside to fill their spaces at the table while screaming, red in the face, “What the hell, Manager?”

Seeking some sense of comfort in this time of utter insanity, I glanced at Lucas only to find him looking from person to person, eyes round and jaw slack. I should have known that this wasn’t a time for him to spout unexpected wisdom. At least we were unified in shock.

Without allowing Mom the chance to ask him what was wrong, Shindong barked, “What’s this about you becoming EXO’s manager?”

Baekhyun, of course, perked up. He gawked at Suho. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course,” Suho said.

Perhaps genuinely offended, Baekhyun gasped, “And you didn’t tell me?”

Baekhyun’s frown deepened when Suho responded, “I know a lot of things that I don’t tell you.”

“Well,” Baekhyun wheezed, “we don’t want Momager!” He explained to my gasp, “We don’t want her if we’re running from Donghae. Tell her that we don’t want her, Junmyeon.”

“I will not,” Suho decided sternly without asking about Donghae, “and you better not either. Just be quiet— at least until this conflict passes.”

Appearing at Shindong’s side after shoving past Chanyeol, who responded by screaming, “OW!” Eunhyuk said, “Manager must have made her choice.” When Eunhyuk stared at Mom with narrowed eyes, it was obvious that he had stolen Donghae’s photograph and returned it to Mom. I tried not to glare at him.

Tucking hair behind her ear, Mom asked, “How did you find out about that, Shindong?”

Oh. Suho already confirmed that it was true, but I guess I didn’t expect Mom to sound so sad. That was the only logical reaction since she had worked on every Super Junior comeback for years, but I couldn’t seem to recover from Mom’s frown.

Leeteuk frowned, too, as he swore, “I didn’t tell him.” He must have been telling the truth; Leeteuk rarely missed an opportunity to stir up controversy as if all aspects of life were a live broadcast.

Suho told Mom, “I haven’t told anyone either, ma’am,” just before Shindong yelled, “Heechul told us!”

Never failing to appear at the sound of his name, Heechul pushed through the crowd to stand by Mom. Pointing a finger at Shindong, he demanded, “Keep my name out of your mouth, you filthy snitch!”

Shindong’s lips parted, I’m sure, to hurl an insult at Heechul as the other Super Junior members started voicing their disappointment at losing Mom to EXO, but Mom silenced them all with little effort. “SHUT UP.” She had to yell or else nobody would have heard her over their own voice.

Everyone watched with bated breath as Mom pinched at the bridge of her nose and released a ragged sigh. “Although I had no intention of announcing this at the New Year’s party, because of Heechul’s loose tongue—” when she cut her eyes at him, Heechul winked and wet his lips with his tongue— “I have to admit that I can’t be your manager anymore, Super Junior.”

Looking very much like a child, Shindong’s lower lip trembled. “Ever?”

I almost rolled my eyes and answered, “Nothing is forever, Shindong, but Mom will always be your manager,” so imagine my shock when Mom shook her head. Everybody gasped with me.

Baekhyun took advantage of the silence. In a crumbling voice, he cried despite his past schemes to secure Mom as EXO’s manager, “We don’t want you, Momager. EXO doesn’t want you, so don’t leave Super Junior.” He must have been moved by all of the broken-hearted faces.

Although something had been ripped from my chest, although tears were pooling and burning my eyes because my entire life had been me and Mom and Super Junior and now it was ending— no, not ending, just changing— but I didn’t want something so perfect to ever change— Mom grinned at Baekhyun’s outburst and patted his shoulders. When Mom smiled, even when it was that tired, teary-eyed smile, I had to smile too. It didn’t matter that everything in me wanted to cry.

It occurred to me that the sun was setting on the best days of my life. Although I had always been the kind of person who preferred the company of the moon and stars, nobody who takes the time to watch the sunset is ever ready for the sun’s rays to fade. I told myself what everyone says to comfort themselves on the brink of great change: it was beautiful while it lasted, the sun will rise again tomorrow, memories are forever.

I believed those things. I also believed that Super Junior would be a part of my life forever. Heechul wouldn’t stop coming over to watch dramas with me and Mom, Yesung wouldn’t stop calling me to chat about everything and nothing, Wookie would always want to have tea at least once a month. Super Junior was my family.

So why couldn’t I catch my breath?

Yesung asked Mom, “Why not?” As he bit back tears, the dimple in his chin deepened. “So you’ll work with EXO after you’re done with this SuperM stuff. Fine. That’s how it goes. But why can’t you work with us next time?”

Everybody looked to Mom for her answer, but she dodged the question anyway. After drawing a deep breath, she told every member of Super Junior what she loved them. It was clear that she had prepared her remarks beforehand. I wondered how she might have broken the news to everyone had she not been confronted at the party.

“Leeteuk, you’ve always been such a good leader. From day one, you made my job look easy. On stressful days, you never failed to comfort me with subtle smiles when you thought nobody would notice because you never wanted anyone to see me struggle. I always noticed, and I was always grateful.”

Leeteuk bowed, smiling despite the tears in his eyes.

“Heechul,” Mom’s voice wavered when she looked at him. “You always listen to me, and you never judge. Even when I’m wrong, you defend me to the ends of the earth.”

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Heechul boasted, “That’s because you’re never wrong.” He made Mom smile. That was always Heechul’s gift.

Mom snaked an arm around Heechul’s waist and continued, “You have the best taste in everything. You let me cry when we’re watching dramas, and you never look at me or make fun of me for getting emotional. The most important part is that you’re kind enough to pretend that you don’t know why I’m so moved.”

Heechul patted Mom’s shoulder, encouraging her to say, “Yesung—”

Yesung was already in tears. There was nothing worse than seeing Yesung cry. Although there was barely any room to breathe, let alone take a step, I made my way over to him, linked my arm with his, and offered him a smile that made him laugh despite his tears.

“— you have always been like a brother. You aren’t just willing to fight anyone who crosses me; you’ve always protected Lei with your all. We can’t cry in front of you, though—” Mom winked at me— “because you threaten to beat people up, and you throw things in anger.”

Yesung wiped at his eyes with his free hand and chuckled. “Yeah, well, people should know better than to mess with you, then.”

I didn’t want to say anything to interrupt, so I hoped that my presence was enough of a comfort for Yesung. I didn’t want him to cry anymore.

“Shindong, you always make me laugh,” Mom said, “and you have always lightened the mood whenever things got awkward.” That was ironic, considering that we were all forced to be publicly emotionally vulnerable because of Shindong’s confrontation. “Thank you for fighting to have me on your team whenever SuJu has a comeback. Thank you for always telling people that I am the only one who can make the comeback successful. I owe so much of my career to your enthusiastic praise.”

“You’re welcome,” Shindong said as he bowed. “I only tell the truth, Manager.”

“Eunhyuk—” He stiffened at his name— “you always pick up the slack and take initiative without having to be asked. You always see where I am lacking, and you fill in the spaces that need to be filled. You are one of the most dependable people I have ever known.”

Eunhyuk could only blink at the compliment. His eyes were fixed on the floor, I think, because he didn’t like for people to see when he was emotional. His bow was more of a nod.

Until now, Mom had addressed the members of Super Junior in age order. After Eunhyuk should have been Donghae, but Mom skipped over him and effectively trapped my breath in my throat. I couldn’t even see Donghae. Had he stayed home to avoid Mom as he had stayed home from the Christmas party? Was he avoiding Mom the way Sehun was avoiding me?

No. He had to be standing somewhere not too far away. He promised that he would be there. He promised that he would give me that infinity bracelet. He was there; I believed it even if I couldn’t see him.

Mom still held everyone’s attention when she said, “Siwon, you are always a rock. You face everything— even challenges— with a smile. You turn every stranger into a friend. Plus—” Mom smiled— “you have always encouraged me and Lei to exercise, eat healthily, and participate in community service.”

Reddening at the compliments as his smile etched dimples around his lips, Siwon bowed.

“Wookie—” Ryeowook beamed at the nickname, sniffling— “thank you for always looking out for Lei and playing with her no matter how busy you were. Thank you for reminding me to find room for fun between jobs.”

“It has always been my pleasure,” Wookie promised as he bowed.

Kyuhyun smiled broadly when Mom turned to him. “I’ll never forget when you first joined the group. Lei was right— it was incomplete without you.”

I burned at the memory of my overenthusiastic embrace of Kyuhyun’s introduction to Super Junior, and Kyuhyun laughed as he playfully nudged my ribs.

“You have always been the kind of person who would give someone your jacket during a snowstorm, or let somebody keep your umbrella in a thunderstorm. You would turn the attention to yourself with a joke if ever I needed a chance to catch my breath, and I am beyond grateful. Thank you for being one of the most considerate people I have ever met.”

Rather than bowing like so many of the others, Kyuhyun responded with a wink and a salute.

“Donghae.”

This was it: the first time that Mom and Donghae had seen each other since their argument after the birthday party. My heart pounded against my chest, and I tightened my grip around Yesung’s arm when Eunhyuk pulled Donghae to his side.

Out of everybody, Donghae looked most miserable. He couldn’t lift his heavy gaze from the floor, where he must have met his frowning reflection. I had to look away; I couldn’t stand to see him looking like that.

“Yeah?” Donghae mumbled.

“You’re, um, persistent. You love purely, and you’re loyal to a fault. You— um—”

I had never known Mom to stutter, and apparently Donghae hadn’t either. He stared up at her, brow furrowed, and she hurriedly concluded, “You’re a good person.”

Compared to what she had said to everyone else, Mom’s goodbye to Donghae was a bit lacking. Not wanting to be overly critical in such a tense moment, I cast my glare down to my feet.

Still speaking almost too quickly to comprehend, Mom said, “I know that you probably think it’s your fault that I’m not managing Super Junior anymore, and it is—”

The room had gone quiet enough that I could hear the wheeze pass through his lips. It would have been obvious enough from the sudden sagging of his shoulders and downward twitch of his mouth.

“— but not for the reason that you think.”

Moments passed in silence as everyone tried to decipher the cryptic sentence’s meaning before Eunhyuk demanded, eyes piercing, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Heechul, who had the unfair advantage of knowing almost every thought that passed through Mom’s mind, belted, “It means that she’s in love with Donghae, you stupid ass anchovy! She can’t work with the person she’s in love with because she’s a professional!”

Eyes wide and full of color, Donghae gasped, “What?”

And before Mom could embarrass us all by stuttering her confirmation or denial of Heechul’s allegation, Changmin’s voice said through the speakers, “Uh, so, it’s almost midnight! Woohoo!” Receiving only grumbles from the party-goers who were too invested in Momhae to care about the arrival of the new year, Changmin continued flatly, “So grab whoever you want to kiss and head out to the terrace to watch fireworks!”

People exited slowly at first, and then, when I opened my eyes, the room was mostly empty aside from Mom and Donghae, who stared at each other in utter shock. I think I would have stood there all night, mouth agape, to watch the conclusion of fifteen years of unrequited love had Taemin not looped his arm around my waist.

“Didn’t you hear Max?” Taemin muttered into my ear. “He said ‘it’s almost midnight, so grab whoever you want to kiss and head out onto the terrace.’”

For a moment, I was so flattered by Taemin’s attention, I was so absorbed in his touch that the ache in my chest was soothed. The void was filled. Then I caught Lucas staring at Mom and Donghae with tears in his eyes. I know that he would have stayed there all night if I hadn’t grabbed his hand, mumbling, “Come on, Lucas. We have to give them privacy.”

Although he was too polite to admit it with his words, it was obvious from his closed-lip grin that Taemin had been hoping that we would run out to the terrace alone. Don’t misunderstand: I really, really wanted to kiss Taemin, but everything in the world came second to ensuring that Lucas was okay.

“Hey,” I said into the cool nighttime air.

No response.

I tightened my grip around Lucas’s hand and shouted his name.

Again, no response.

Spinning out of Taemin’s grasp, I placed both of my hands on either side of Lucas’s face and forced him to meet my eyes. “You’re scaring me, Lucas. Are you okay?” I guess the obvious answer was a sort of ‘no.’ Clearly, Lucas was in shock, and I couldn’t blame him for being unable to pick his jaw up from the floor.

At my touch, Lucas snapped back to life. “Mom loves Donghae!” He cheered loudly over the scattered whispers on the terrace. “Heechul said that Mom loves Donghae!”

Lucas’s excitement gave me permission to smile. “I know—”

Forgetting in his joy that I had a problem with being picked up, Lucas hooked his hands around my waist and spun me around, chanting, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

All I could say was, “Put me down, Lucas!” in a shrill scream as I slapped at his shoulders. It didn’t matter that I knew Lucas would never intentionally drop me; some primal fear seized my mind and left me trembling well after Lucas set me back onto my feet.

Much to Taemin’s delight, I dashed to his side and linked my arm through his to discourage Lucas from touching me again. “I know it’s all very exciting, but there’s no reason to pick me up. Ever.”

Looking back, I regret being so stern with Lucas in what might have been the happiest moment of his life, but he couldn’t have cared less about the scolding. He squealed, “I’m so happy!” before running off to find somebody (probably Mark) who shared his enthusiasm or to give Taemin the privacy he desired with me.

“You’re a little feistier than I thought,” Taemin teased once we were left alone— well, as alone as we could have been at a huge company gathering. “First, you argued with Chanyeol, and then you just hit Lucas.”

I reddened at Taemin’s brief recap of my temper throughout the night. In the immediate aftermath of my exchange with Chanyeol, I was embarrassed that Suho had been a witness; I hadn’t considered that Taemin had witnessed the very same exchange. For so long, I had been uncomfortably conscious of his eyes on me, but in those moments, I hadn’t felt his stare.

Did that mean that I was getting comfortable with Taemin? No matter how comfortable we were together, I never wanted him to witness my anger. That was probably unrealistic since anger is a natural emotion. It was probably impossible to always be happy around Taemin given his almost obsession with honest communication of feelings. It was probably impossible since our love had been born in the midst of sadness.

I apologized anyway, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry you saw that. I wish you hadn’t. It’s no excuse, but Chanyeol and I have never gotten along. And hitting Lucas was only an instinct because I’m afraid of—”

“Hey.” Taemin cut me off with a smile, and I was grateful that everyone else was too busy gossiping about Mom and Super Junior to see it written across my face that I was in love with him. “I’m kinda glad I saw that side of you.” He winked. “I kinda think your temper is cute.”

Taemin giggled at my blush as I mumbled, glancing away, “You have strange taste.”

Once he registered my words, however, he poked out his bottom lip in a childish pout. “That’s not very nice, jagi.” He whispered the pet name so nobody else could hear. “Stop being mean so I can show you something.”

When I asked what he wanted to show me, Taemin laced his fingers through mine and led me to an isolated area that wasn’t quite the terrace or the roof. There, we couldn’t hear the whispers scattered among the party. There, we could be free to act without the fear of attracting stares.

I stepped forward, careful not to trip over a checkered blanket on the floor, rested my hands on the railing lined with small white lights that resembled the twinkling stars above, and looked up at the glittering night sky. It looked so much like my memories of that night in the garden, but I knew that it couldn’t have been exactly as it had been in the past.

Again, it came to me— that dream about holding the moon— and all that kept me from reaching out was Taemin’s hand (soft and warm unlike the frozen rail) in mine. I didn’t reach out even after Taemin released my hand to unfasten his mask. The dream, for a moment, faded from my mind as I set to removing my mask too. The dream changed into something tangible when Taemin shed his jacket and held it out to me.

“Thank you,” I breathed as we dropped our masks at our feet. Fitting my arms through his jacket’s sleeves, I beamed at him. “It’s very beautiful up here, Taemin.”

“You’re welcome.” Taemin leaned closer and closer to me until his words ghosted against my lips and our breath met as a misty white cloud between us. Catching his bottom lip between his teeth as if to discourage my pulsating desire to just rush time, to just brush my lips against his once— quickly— before the fireworks gave us permission, Taemin asked, “What time is it?”

“Um—” My heart thundered, hands trembling, as I fished my phone out of my purse. “That can’t be right,” I argued with my screen. “Changmin said that it was almost midnight, but’s only 11:15.”

“What?” Taemin gawked at my phone screen. “Oh, great! And the SuperM group chat is blowing up too!”

Pouting, after he pulled his phone out of his pants’ pocket, Taemin plopped onto the blanketed ground. When he motioned for me to sit with him and I responded quietly that it wasn’t very ladylike, Taemin insisted, “It’s just us up here, Lei. I don’t think sitting makes you unladylike.” He patted the blanket and reasoned, “I put this up here so we could sit. Won’t your feet hurt if you just stand there all night?”

Frowning less because I was giving in (again) to satisfy Taemin and more because I realized that we had abandoned the perfect moment to share our first kiss— we had been so close, and now we were not— I sat at Taemin’s side and read through the texts.

Taemin, who had been giggling since his use of the sparkly heart emoji in the group chat, slung his arm around my shoulder. “What are you so happy about, Lei?”

Too happy to speak even to answer Taemin, I rose to my feet— now bare— and strained to watch Mom and Donghae walk out onto the terrace hand in hand. They couldn’t see me, but I could see them. Even from afar, I could see their smiles and their matching red thread bracelets. Even from afar, I could see the burden lifted from their shoulders, and all at once I was in danger of soaring too far up into the clouds.

From where I stood, I could see all of Super Junior unite to wrap Mom and Donghae into a hug whose warmth I could feel in my heart and all around me. In that embrace was fifteen years’ worth of love, and the child within me felt that I should have been there.

The child within me was silenced when Taemin wrapped an arm around my waist, laid his head on my shoulder to brush his lips against my cheek, and whispered, “I want to give you something.”

With the hand accented by my ribbon, he held out a single red rose.

Remembering the first broken rose he gave me in the garden, breathing in relief that this one was whole and beautiful, I accepted it with my hands. “It’s so beautiful, Taemin.”

All of the night’s emotions caught up with me at once and manifested as tears that weren’t quite heavy enough to fall from my eyes although Taemin’s hands were ready to catch them. “I just— I have nothing to give you, and you’ve given me so much.”

Not just tonight, I would have said had my throat not tightened around my voice. You have given me so many beautiful things. You have taught me so many lessons that I will carry into my day even when the sun rises, and I don’t know if I have given enough back to you.

Even if I love you for the rest of my life— and I can’t imagine the day that I will wake up without the warmth of loving you spreading through my chest and every thought in my mind— I never want to imagine such a day— could I ever repay you for all you’ve brought to my life? Can I ever thank you enough for having the voice that heals my every wound? Can I ever be grateful enough to live in this world where our paths crossed? Can I ever be thankful enough for every wound and joy that forged the heart you so carefully hold?

I didn’t know how to say any of those things out loud with my fragile voice, so how could I have known any of the answers? All I could do was drop the rose from my numb fingers and throw my arms around Taemin, hoping that he would understand without words as he always had.

He caught me around the waist and held me close. I know this is wrong— I know this spits in the face of everything I learned in those few months that felt like a lifetime— but I never wanted that moment to end. I wanted to live forever with Taemin in the light of the moon. To the point of tears, I was happy that the stars kindly aligned to allow me to get this close to him.

“Lei,” he whispered, “why do you still not believe that your love is all I’ve ever wanted? Is it so crazy for me to believe that everything in life has led to our moments under the moon?”

“No.” I loosened my embrace to look at his frowning face. “No. Can’t you feel that I believe it too?” I reached for the ribbon tied around his wrist and, after struggling to undo the knot, watched the stars gather in his eyes as I raised his pulse point to meet my kiss.

“Yeah, I feel it,” Taemin admitted while I retied the ribbon’s knot, this time fully aware of its significance, this time believing with every fiber of my being that my soul loved Taemin’s in its entirety, this time understanding that he trusted me with his heart, this time promising to cherish it even should the sun set (or rather, the sun rise) on this beautiful day too. “But can you tell me what you feel sometimes anyway? Sometimes, I just want to hear it.”

Thinking that it was only right to tell somebody when your heart is swelling, I blurted, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” and he would have let me say it for the rest of the night had he not dropped his gaze down to the fallen rose.

“You know--” Taemin sat back on the blanket, and I followed him-- “none of this is going as I planned.” The pout returned to his lips. “I spent all week saying that I wanted to match you head to toe for the party, but Jongin was all like, ‘That’s excessive, Taemin. Do you really want everyone at the party to know that you’re a couple?’ And even though I told him that I don’t care who knows that I’m in love with you, he was like, ‘It’s still over the top!’ And then Baekhyun showed up, clinging to your arm, matching you down to the flower!”

I tried not to laugh at Taemin’s accurate imitation of Kai’s voice. To soothe his jealousy— which now made me want to burst into laughter— I traced patterns over his knuckles. “Baekhyun didn’t try to match me.”

“That makes it worse!” Taemin whined. “Anyway, that’s not all that has gone wrong. At the mall today, Jongin kept discouraging all of my amazing ideas. He told me not to buy that giant stuffed bear, and he told me not to get a dozen roses, and he told me not to buy a box of chocolates, and he said that people don’t serenade girls in real life, so I had to tell Henry not to show up with his violin, but Jongin wouldn’t let me bring my keyboard either!”

I nodded understandingly at first, careful not to mention that I agreed with Kai— left unattended, Taemin would have gone overboard— but my nodding ceased when he mentioned Henry. Obviously, I loved Henry to pieces, but having him as a witness for my first kiss with Taemin didn’t exactly sound like a dream come true.

“Jongin even told me that the lights I put up on the railing were too much! He said that all we needed was starlight! And now I can’t even kiss you yet because it’s not midnight, and—”

“Taemin,” I interrupted, knowing that he would find faults for the rest of the night unless I admitted, “I think everything is perfect.” When that didn’t satisfy him, I tried my hand at expressing wisdom. “I mean, when I left my house today, I didn’t plan to trip in front of everybody and Na Jaemin—”

An almost indiscernible smile tugged at Taemin’s lips as he rolled his eyes at Jaemin’s name.

“— and I didn’t want to see Chanyeol, much less talk to him! And I definitely didn’t want to see Yesung cry. Actually, I didn’t imagine that I would ever hear any of the things that Mom said to Super Junior. I never imagined there would be a day where she wouldn’t be their manager, but—” I sighed, accepting— “what’s done is done. Life doesn’t always go as planned, and I think that’s okay as long as you like where you end up.”

Taemin looked at me as I imagined I might have looked at him that night in the garden. I hoped that we would look at each other that way always. “Do you like where you ended up?” He asked, looking away as if he was afraid to pressure me into an untrue answer that would please him. “Up here with me?”

With ease, I spoke a truth that once would have been too embarrassing to utter. “Anywhere with you is where I want to end up.”

At that, Taemin smiled before checking his phone. It must not have been midnight yet; he flipped the phone over with a tired sigh. The night fell silent because I didn’t know what to say after being so honest, and Taemin was too busy caressing the roses in my hair to say anything.

Without warning, he brought the red rose in his hand to his mouth and gnawed at the stem. With wide eyes, I could only watch in utter confusion as he spat out green chunks. That moment was weird and kind of gross, to tell you the truth.

“Ow!” Taemin cried as a thorn pierced his lip.

I gasped, “Are you okay?” but he could only smile because he finally succeeded in separating the rose from the stem. That must have been his mission.

“It was just a pinch,” he claimed, probably oblivious to the thin trail of blood dripping down his chin as he tied his flower into my crown. “That stem tasted pretty terrible, though.” He stuck his tongue out.

I reached into my purse for a pack of tissues and a mint and offered them to Taemin. “Here.” He only opened his mouth, still focused intently on the crown, so I unwrapped the mint and fed it to him as if he were a child.

Would I go to any length just to see his smile? If so, I must have been disappointed when he grimaced as I gently pressed the tissue to his blood-stained lip.

Knowing that any pain was the result of his own weird, impulsive behavior, I muttered, “I’m sorry if it hurts,” as if it were my fault that he was bleeding. “But I can’t kiss your bloody lip, Taem.”

Taemin didn’t respond even after I retracted the tissue, balled it up, and tossed into the corner with the masks. He only stared at the crown, brow furrowing until lines formed in his forehead, and finally yanked the red rose away.

“Ow.” I wheezed although losing the rose hadn’t physically hurt. “Why did you take that?”

“It looked ugly,” Taemin answered, gripping the rose too tightly. Instantly, he remembered that flowers are fragile, and he held it tenderly, frowning down at it in his hand. “I was stupid to try to put it in your crown. Just look at it.”

Taemin must have been right. Aside from the fact that his red rose’s shade must have clashed against the crown’s blue baby’s breath, it was three or four times bigger than the crown’s white roses. Still, I didn’t think Taemin was stupid for wanting to make his mark on Baekhyun’s gift.

Knowing that it wouldn’t look right, believing that Taemin’s rose probably didn’t belong among Baekhyun’s roses, I begged, “Put it back.” Taemin shook his head, so I pointed out, “You gave it to me. It’s not yours to take, Taemin, so put it back.”

“No,” Taemin argued, jaw tense and face flushing an embarrassed shade of scarlet. “It looked really bad. I don’t want to ruin something as pretty as your flower crown with this stupid rose.”

“Stop talking like that.” Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but it was. Who was he to talk down to that flower when I loved it? How could he believe that he was capable of ruining anything? “You’re not ruining anything. Please, Taemin—”

“It’s enough that you want it,” Taemin said when I first reached for the rose. “Thank you for lying to make me feel better, but I can’t focus on kissing you if this—” he shook the rose— “is in your hair.”

I wasn’t lying— not really— but I knew better than to keep trying to talk Taemin out of his perfectionist fit. “Fine.” I was about to ask him to return the rose so I could just hold it, but he suddenly rose to his feet and stood like he was going to launch it over the railing onto the street below.

“What are you doing?” I jumped up and tried to reach for the rose, but Taemin was too tall. “That’s mine, Taemin. I told you that I want it, so—”

“I bit the stem off like a moron,” Taemin quietly reminded. Looking back, I think he just couldn’t understand why I wanted it. “This rose is ruined. Let me throw it away, and I’ll get you a dozen others—”

My heart twitched. Afraid.

“I told you a long time ago that I don’t want another one,” I whined, burdened by the growing lump in my throat as I understood that I would never be tall enough to save the rose. I kept trying anyway, grabbing Taemin’s shoulder and rising onto my tiptoes, trying anything to grow just a little taller for a fraction of a second. “I told you that first night in the hotel, don’t you remember? I told you that I never want you to replace my roses, and you promised that you would never try to. You promised.”

Begging and fixated on the word 'promise,' I sounded like a child. Maybe that genuinely expressed desperation was what softened Taemin's features that wordlessly promised to return the rose. Knowing that the rose would ultimately be mine, I threw my head back, laughing, when Taemin jumped onto the tips of his toes, held the rose as high as he could over his head, and teased, "Hm? What do you want? Is it this?"

"Yes!" I participated in his game and, knowing that I could never pluck that rose from his hand just as I could never pluck the moon from the sky, I leaped anyway. Imagine my gasp of surprise, then when Taemin made a variation of my dream true by lowering his hand ever-so-slightly so I could reach it.

When the rose was finally back in my hands where it belonged, I greeted it as if it were the moon with a kiss— gentle to prevent the loss of any precious petals.

"Is that how you'll kiss me," Taemin wondered in a whisper that rode on the wind, "when the clock finally strikes midnight?"

Closing the space between us, he held his face as close to mine as he could without touching my lips just to make me conscious of each passing second. I could have cursed Taemin for encouraging me to wish our time away in pursuit of that quickly approaching moment when our lips would meet for the first time.

"I don't know," I shrugged, meeting his eyes although they would set me on fire. "I guess we'll find out then, right?

Taemin slanted his head to the side. "Does that mean you haven't imagined it?"

"Of course it doesn't." My flat denial earned Taemin's gasping laughter. Still holding the rose in my hand, I connected my hands behind his neck and said, "I told you, everything has led to this moment. I've imagined kissing you— my soulmate— every time I've looked up at the moon."

Perhaps to conceal the blush spreading across his cheeks, Taemin hid his face in the crook of my neck and whispered in my ear, "Everything you say is so precious." He breathed. Inhale. Exhale. Remember. "I do remember, by the way. I remember what you said that night— and every other day and night— in the hotel. I remember what you said in the garden. I remember what you said by the lake. I remember everything you said at practices, even though you weren't ready to speak to me yet."

I didn't know what to say. I never knew what to say when he started on those emotional speeches. Maybe there was nothing to say. Maybe the only thing to do was listen and promise to remember. Closing my eyes, then, I set to memorizing every word.

Ever undeterred by my silence, Taemin continued, almost singing despite Kai's warnings against serenades, "I have been clinging to your every word for as long as I can remember, and I think you should know that I will never forget a single thing."

"Taemin." His name fell from my mouth involuntarily, I guess, because it was what I wanted to say all my life.

He must not have heard or seen the fireworks bursting overhead. His grip around my waist tightened, but he didn't match his lips to mine. Remaining by my ear, he kept humming, "I remember every time you ever looked at me. I remember how you used to be so afraid that I would catch your glances. I remember that day on the SuperM set when you kept getting distracted by my laugh. I remember that morning when you tried to run away because I've spent every day happily because you came back and told me that you like me. I remember the first time I ever held you because I knew that I would never be able to let you go again."

I think I must have been crying at that point. I think I must have been crying before he admitted, "I remember every moment because I have known all along that I will love you forever."

Although Taemin and I were at the very beginning of our forever, I felt with the next breath that sometimes beginnings and endings feel very much alike. Maybe I knew that I was at the end of the childhood of following Mom as she managed Super Junior; maybe I knew that I was at the end of the days when Lucas was my only true companion; maybe I knew that I was at the end of all that was familiar. Maybe that was sad because although there had always been scattered moments of loneliness— although those moments were almost nonexistent now that I loved Taemin— those days were all I had known. Those days were happy even if they weren't perfect.

There is something terrifying about staring forever in the face, so I trembled when Taemin met my eyes and wiped the tears away. There was so much to look forward to with Taemin— so much I couldn't imagine yet— and I knew that even as I promised, "I remember too. I'll never forget anything either— I'll write it all down if I have to." As if saying so would help settle once and forever the fear that this, too, would end, I swore, "I'll write it all down if that's the only way to make our story last forever."

Taemin, who always understood forever better than I did, smiled at my futile efforts to contain eternity, but he said nothing to discourage me. He only reached to plant his hands between the lights on the railing behind me. Were he anyone else, that gesture would have made me feel trapped, but the sudden slow, forceful poundings of my heart as time stopped with each motion he took toward me were not at all afraid.

In those first few moments that there was no space between us, Taemin touched me only with his gentle, warm, cloud-soft lips that fit perfectly with mine. Those moments were unlike anything I had ever experienced— unlike anything I have experienced since— so I do not know the words to properly relate them to you.

He didn't have to peel his hands from the railing to press them against the small of my back; I wouldn't have gone anywhere. There was no place I longed to be more than in his embrace— whether we were in the garden, in our hotel room, in my bedroom, under the moon, or under golden blossoming fireworks.

Here, in this world where Taemin and I were in love— whether it was our secret or known to all— in this moment, is where I always belong.

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