Changmin’s first instinct is to run. Or to punch him. Fight or flight, either one would be better than what he’s doing: standing there, mouth still open with words that no longer need to be said. He blames it on shock, which makes it hard to think clearly.

 

“Changmin, right?” Yunho’s voice is calm and soothing and reminds Changmin of how someone would talk to a spooked animal. “I was hoping to get the chance to talk to you. Are you busy right now?”

 

Changmin shakes his head. Damn it.

 

“Great.” Yunho looks relieved. “My apartment’s just a couple of blocks away, we can talk over there.”

 

Changmin nods. Damn it!

*

A brief and painful walk later, Changmin finds himself in Yunho’s living room, sitting awkwardly on one of his couches with a cup of tea in his hand.

 

Yunho sits down across from him, and Changmin unwillingly looks at him. The truth is (and he will not admit this fact to anyone, ever), he immediately likes Yunho. That, of course, makes Changmin hate him even more, for being so damn likeable and friendly. What hurts the most is that he can almost, almost understand why Jaejoong would love Yunho more.

 

How young, how immature, how inexperienced he must have seemed in comparison. Changmin’s vision blurs but he can’t let himself cry; he can’t afford to show weakness. He digs his fingernails into his skin and bites the inside of his cheek until his pain is only physical.

 

“Why am I here?” he asks, keeping his voice steady.

 

Yunho gazes at him thoughtfully, as if he's debating what to say. “You’ve never been to talk to Jaejoong,” he says carefully. “I noticed you haven’t been back to pick up your things from his apartment, either.”

 

Changmin grits his teeth. “Why do you care?” he snaps. “Isn’t that good news for you, you don’t have anyone interfering with your relationship, I’m not getting in the way, am I?”

 

Yunho shifts in his chair, looking a tad uneasy. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

 

Changmin can almost believe him. Yunho doesn’t seem the type to insult anyone and mean it, much less commit adultery. But it doesn’t change the fact that he did.

 

“You’re sorry,” Changmin repeats. “For what, for kissing Jaejoong when I was dating him, behind my back? You’re the one he cheated on me with. You’re who he’s with now.”

 

Changmin smiles bitterly as Yunho drops his gaze to the table, and gets up to leave. This talk is pointless; all he’s learning is what he already knows.

 

“You’re more like Jaejoong than I thought.”

 

Changmin stops, turning to stare at him. “What are you trying to say?” he asks incredulously. “That I’ll cheat on my future boyfriends?”

 

“No,” Yunho says. “You both think that what you’re doing is helping you.” He opens the door and smiles an odd half smile. “It’s not.”

 

Changmin walks out and hesitates. In the dim light Yunho’s face looks, for a brief moment, tired and somber. “Wait,” Changmin calls, voice too loud in the empty hallway, but the door has already closed.

*

Yunho’s words haunt him for the rest of the day because he doesn’t understand them, because he doesn’t know what Yunho was trying to tell him.

 

You both think that what you’re doing is helping you.

 

What is Jaejoong doing now? Staying with Yunho. Avoiding Changmin. He doesn't know anything because they haven’t even tried to talk or work things out. It's odd thinking of how close they had been for those few weeks, but it's almost sad as well. They've become strangers to each other.

 

It’s not.

 

Yunho said that; he doesn’t agree with what Jaejoong’s doing, he thinks it’s wrong and it’s going to end up hurting Jaejoong. Why, that’s what Changmin wonders. Yunho should be happy to have his old boyfriend back, his long lost love. Instead he disapproves of it, and maybe it’s because Yunho’s too moral and honest, but Changmin’s not sure. It seems like there’s something else.

*

Junsu and Yoochun have gone to sleep already but he’s still not tired. Changmin has the urge to listen to something; at times like this, when he feels moody and pensive, music is his only solace.

 

His iPod is old but it has thousands of songs, hundreds of artists; he picks a song at random and it starts with a jazzy tune and low, mournful instruments in the background. He starts to write absentmindedly while he listens because it’s therapeutic and soothing and he can feel his remaining tension leave him. As the minutes and hours tick by, he finally begins to feel sleepy. Changmin waits for the song to finish before turning off his iPod, and then gets up to go to bed. Before he goes, he picks up the papers he’s been writing on and scans them briefly.

 

To his surprise the scribbled lines and half phrases could almost pass for song lyrics, and he can almost imagine how they would sound. Changmin stops reading because he realizes this is it. It’s the perfect gift he’s been searching for and he’s finally found it- but it’s too late.

 

Wincing, he thinks for a moment of ripping them up, tearing them to shreds, but lets the papers flutter onto the desk. He’ll deal with them in the morning.

 

I’m writing this for you.

*

The next day he oversleeps and is in such a rush to get ready for work that he completely forgets about the papers on his desk.

He comes home exhausted and irritable, more than willing to sink into bed and sleep for the next couple of days. Songs are the last things on his mind.

That is, until Junsu comes in, all smiles and waving around- crap. His papers.

 

“Hey!” Changmin protests. “You went into my room?”

 

Junsu waves aside his protests. “I was just looking for something.” He thrusts the sheets in Changmin’s face. “I didn’t know you could write songs, Changmin!”

 

“I can’t,” Changmin grumbles. “It’s not a song, okay, Junsu, give it over -,”

 

“It’s such fantastic timing too,” Junsu continues, talking over Changmin. “I forgot about it completely until I saw this, but you know that new club a couple of blocks away? They’re hosting some open mike thing tonight, and anyone can participate!”

 

“Wait a second,” Changmin begins.

 

“You’ll be great for it,” Junsu says brightly. “No worries. This song is good. Yoochun and I have been helping you rewrite the lyrics and making it flow better, but it doesn’t need that much work.”

 

Changmin gapes at him. “I- It's not even a song! And you expect me to sing it in front of a bunch of half-drunk people?” He snorts. “Screw that.”

 

“Come on, Min,” Junsu wheedles. “We'll go over it with you. I haven’t heard you sing for ages, not since high school. Don’t you miss it?” He adds for good measure, “And you’ve got such a nice voice. This is your chance to show it off.”

 

Changmin winces slightly. “I stopped singing because I was self conscious,” he snaps. “Drop it. My answer’s no.”

 

Junsu fixes him with a steely glare.

*

“This is going to be great,” Junsu says excitedly, clasping Yoochun’s hand and practically skipping as they make their way to the club.

 

Changmin walks next to him, glowering into his scarf. “Fuck you,” he says, but low enough so Junsu can’t hear him. “Just because I’m going with you,” he says, louder, “doesn’t mean I’m singing.”

 

“We’ll see,” Junsu says in a singsong voice, and leads the way.