There are nights when Changmin locks himself in the bathroom and stares at his reflection in the mirror, pale and drawn and gaunt. “It’s not the end of the world,” Changmin chants to himself, repeats it over and over. “Love’s not perfect.” He says it so often he manages to convince himself that he shouldn’t mind what happened- after all, it’s just how life works. It’s how love works.

 

The only reason he was so upset, he decides, was because it was such a shock. Changmin’s fairly certain that if Jaejoong had gone up to him, said things weren’t working out and that maybe it would be best if they saw different people, he would have been okay. Changmin would have nodded and said maybe you’re right. Maybe we should break up. Even now he’s willing to let it go. There’s something about unrequited love that appeals to him, the wistfulness of wanting and longing, the chance to remember it forever as perfect. Real love is flawed and messy and painful. This is proof of that.

 *

There comes a day when Changmin doesn’t want to care anymore. He lets it go. He forgets about it as completely as he can, pushes it out of his memory so he doesn’t have to deal with it. It feels almost nice not to think anymore.

 

Instead, Changmin concentrates on other things. Work, for instance. He’s been so behind that there’s so much to do; he files papers, runs errands, and types memos until his boss has to take him gently aside and tell him to take it easy. He doesn't care, though. It’s a blessed distraction that leaves him with little time to dwell on other matters. When he gets back to the apartment he’s often so tired he just crashes, and doesn’t think, doesn’t dream of anything.

 

Junsu seems relieved that he’s gotten over it and isn’t so depressed anymore, but occasionally, Changmin sees him exchanging looks with Yoochun.

He knows they talk about him. Fragments of their conversations drift through his bedroom door when they think he’s sleeping.

 

“I just wish there was something we could do,” he hears Junsu sigh. “I feel responsible. I mean, he’s . . .”

 

“I know, he still seems pretty upset – ”

 

Their voices trail off and Changmin lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. No, he thinks suddenly. No. I’m not upset, I’m not angry. I’m okay.

 

And he really, truly believes he is.

 *

“Two weeks,” he tells Junsu confidently. “Two weeks and I’ll find myself another apartment and get out of your hair.”

 

Junsu exhales noisily. “Changmin,” he says worriedly. “Are you sure . . . ?”

 

“I’m fine,” Changmin says dismissively. “Really.”

 *

Changmin’s busy working on his laptop when Junsu calls, “Changmin, dinner! I made something special today!”

 

He stretches, and calls back, “Okay!” He’s suddenly ravenous from all the non-eating he did when he was too upset to think about food. How foolish not to eat for love, he thinks. And he’s glad he got over it; he’s not like that anymore.

 

The soup Junsu prepared smells fantastic, and almost familiar in a way that good foods often are. He ladles some into his bowl and sits down, spooning some into his mouth. It tastes like-

 *

“Changmin, come try this soup I made!”

 

Changmin is watching a drama in the living room and is, for once, too absorbed to think about food. “Um,” he begins. This is the final moment of the drama, where the boy realizes the girl he loves is going to leave him, he’s finally going to admit he loves her, he’s-

 

“Changmin?”

 

“Oh,” he stalls, “Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there in a second, Jaejoong.”

 

There's no response. Seconds pass. He really should suspect something, seeing as how Jaejoong has been quiet for an unnaturally long time, but honestly. It’s not like he’s going to look away, not when it’s finally getting good. His eyes are practically glued to the television now; he’s amazed at how long these shows can drag out a simple love confession.

 

That’s why it comes as a complete surprise when Jaejoong tackles him and pins him to the floor, smiling triumphantly.

 

“Ow,” Changmin says blankly. Then- “Hey! You made me miss the love scene!”

 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Jaejoong laughs. “Come on, try this.” In his hand is a bowl of soup, not a drop spilled (Changmin vaguely wonders how Jaejoong managed to hold it and jump him at the same time).

 

“Wait,” Changmin tries to protest, but he can barely move with Jaejoong pressing down on him. Jaejoong smiles beatifically and practically pours the whole damn bowl down his throat.

 

He really, really wonders if Jaejoong thought he could drink the whole bowl in one go. Because of course he can’t. It’s impossible. Changmin ends up choking and probably spills more soup than he drinks.

 

Jaejoong looks slightly apologetic, but mostly not. “So, how was it?”

 

“You suck,” he coughs, and tries to sit up, but Jaejoong doesn’t move. He merely looks at him and raises his eyebrows. Changmin groans and says huffily, “Fine. It was good. Delicious, the best soup I've ever had. Now, will you get off?”

 

Jaejoong smiles. “Nah,” he says. “I like it like this.” He’s practically lying on top of Changmin now, head under his chin and arms around circling his waist.

 

Changmin glances at the television screen. Typical. By now, the credits are rolling, and he’s completely missed everything that happened.

 

“You suck,” he repeats, grumpily. “You made me miss the happy ending!”

 

Jaejoong pulls himself up so he can look at Changmin. “It’s okay,” he says grandly. “We’ll make our own happy ending,” he announces, and Changmin laughs at how optimistic he sounds.

 

He lets Jaejoong kiss him anyways, and he imagines that he can taste soup on Jaejoong’s lips.

 *

Here, now, in the present, Changmin chokes on his soup again. “Oh my god,” he gasps. The memory is like a slap to the face and he jumps out of his seat, practically upturning his bowl, and flees to his room.

 

“What did you put in the soup?” he hears Yoochun demand.

 

Right before he slams his door shut, Junsu’s voice exclaims, “I don’t know! I just found the recipe in Changmin’s room!”

 *

Now, it seems, everything reminds him of Jaejoong.

 

He walks into a supermarket and the first thing he sees is a sale for some food that Jaejoong uses, bread or milk or the special soy sauce he always buys. He watches a movie and the main character has the same sweater as Jaejoong. He sees a girl buying earrings and they’re the same ones Jaejoong has. He passes by a bakery and the chef, the aprons, and the ovens all remind him of Jaejoong’s kitchen. He goes to get a haircut and the salon smells like Jaejoong’s shampoo, like Jaejoong.

 

It’s as if instead of erasing his feelings, all he managed to do was repress them until they escaped, sprang out, and took over his mind.

 

He sleeps and dreams of Jaejoong, dreams that he’s still living with him and that everything’s fine. He dreams of long conversations, of talking to him, of saying you’ll never guess what I dreamed last night, Jaejoong.

 

The same voice always answers him, familiar and haunting. “What is it, Changmin?”

 

“I dreamed about us. I dreamed we broke up, that you were cheating on me. Isn’t that strange?”

 

And then he wakes up with the words still on his lips, but they fade when he turns and realizes there’s no one there.

 *

He stops sleeping after the third time this happens. Instead, he forces himself to stay awake, either by talking out loud or roaming around the apartment in his pajamas.

 

Junsu and Yoochun are watching him from their window when he wanders outside and stares at the sky. “I think he’s finally gone crazy,” Junsu whispers regretfully to Yoochun.

 *

Changmin takes a walk the next day. He likes walks; they give him time to clear his mind and sort out whatever’s troubling him. Plus, Junsu and Yoochun have been acting strangely, and it’d be nice to get away from them for a while.

 

He walks down the road and is passing Jaejoong’s apartment (it’s no surprise why this reminds him of Jaejoong) when he sees, out of the corner of his eye, someone coming out.

 

“Oh, crap,” he thinks, because whoever it is has black hair and looks like they’re heading for him. That’s enough reason for him to walk faster, pick up his pace, and try, try to get away.

 

No such luck. There’s a tap on his shoulder, and he just sighs, resigned. He mentally prepares what to say and turns, ready to give excuses and get out of there.

 

Only, it’s not Jaejoong.

 

It’s Yunho.