The club is dark and smells like an odd mixture of smoke and perfume, bitter and sweet at the same time. In the very center of the room there is a stage; Junsu, Yoochun, and Changmin find seats near the edge and watch the current performer. The girl (she’s even dressed up) is crooning into the mike, eyes closed. She finishes to tumultuous applause and takes a bow before stepping away.

 

“Next up, we have a . . . a Mr. Shim? Changmin Shim, is he here?”

 

Changmin freezes in place, then turns slowly with a deadly look. “Junsu,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “You signed me up already?”

 

Junsu tilts his head. “Well, yeah. We kind of thought you already knew that.” He waves a hand at the man. “Over here!”

 

The light shines on Changmin (he grimly vows to make Junsu’s life hell for the next five years, at least) and he has no choice but to get up and make his way to the stage.

 

Everyone stares at him and Changmin can practically feel their gazes boring holes into his back and to be honest he’s pretty much scared out of his mind.

 

It’s not as though he’s worried about messing up the lines; he’s gone over them so often they’re practically ingrained in his memory by now. But the thought of all those eyes on him . . . Oh, god, he thinks, swallowing hard. I can’t do this. Maybe he can will himself to throw up, or faint, and get out of there before he has to go up and sing.

 

As he walks slowly towards the stage, he passes the previous singer. She flashes him a brilliant smile, but Changmin can only manage a sickly grin in response.

 

“Don’t worry,” she laughs, patting him on the shoulder. “We’re all here to have fun.”

*

Up on the stage, the lights are so bright Changmin can’t even make out the audience any more, and up here he can almost pretend he’s alone.

 

He closes his eyes. For no reason at all he thinks of Jaejoong, imagines him out there with dark eyes and a slight smile on his lips.

 

Oh, Jaejoong, Changmin thinks, and it is here, under the glaring lights and the scrutiny of dozens of strangers, that he finally accepts it, finally admits it. I miss you.

 

His heart aches a bit, and he begins to sing.

*

It’s not a song about love, not really. It’s about people and emotions and self-discovery, about secrets and regret, about the difference between a belief and reality.

 

Most importantly, there’s a question underneath the words and pretty phrases. Why do things happen the way they do, why can people never see what is laid out right in front of them, why do people long to find meaning in everything?

Why, why, why.

 

The song ends with a single piercing note that trembles in the air, drawn out until the music dies away.

 

In the stunned silence that follows Changmin feels a sudden shift that comes from within himself, as if something’s changed, as if the world has finally stopped spinning and he can finally, finally stand up on his own. It’s like an enormous weight has been lifted off his shoulders; the darkness that has constantly shadowed him has disappeared. He feels light, lighter than he has since this whole stupid business started, and when the audience begins clapping and cheering, Changmin looks towards the ceiling and smiles.

*

Junsu’s on him the second he steps off the stage, clinging to his arm, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than Changmin can process them. “ShimchangminyouperfectmoronIhateyou—”

 

“Slow down,” he laughs, and extricates his arm from Junsu’s grasp. It was starting to go a little numb. “I didn’t hear anything you just said.”

 

“How can you act so calm,” cries Junsu. “That just— I swear I had tears in my eyes, so did Yoochun— how long has it been since you’ve sang, anyways?”

 

“A few years,” Changmin says thoughtfully. It’s been so long that he’d forgotten what he liked about singing, the thrill and power of knowing that his voice could affect people in such a way.

 

“That’s a bit disgusting,” Junsu announces, and Changmin laughs.

 

“Junsu, you are just too nice,” he comments, and spies Yoochun over Junsu’s shoulder, who mouths ‘nice work’ and gestures to the bar. “C’mon, let’s go get drunk.”

*

Two frothy, artificially colored and highly alcoholic drinks later, Changmin’s got a pleasant buzz going on. They’re all laughing and enjoying themselves; Junsu and Yoochun seem to be having their own private contest on who can tell the longest and most pointless story. Junsu’s probably losing, Changmin decides. He keeps giggling at everything Yoochun says and forgets to talk.

 

He gets up languidly for another round of drinks. The bar’s crowded with people and he has to squeeze past mingling bodies before he can shout out his order to the bartender. Thankfully, service is fast and within no time Changmin gets the drinks and heads back to their table.

 

A server rushing past jostles his elbow, splashing liquid on his pants and the unfortunate person next to him.

 

“Damn,” Changmin swears, speech only slightly slurred. He crouches down, ready with napkins and apologies. “I’m so sorry about that,” he says. Polite as always, even when drunk.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” the figure says. “Wasn’t your fault.”

 

Changmin snorts a little, but it’s strange— he’s got the feeling that in that brief span of time he just missed something, something important. He looks up, prepared to offer some sort of deprecatory remark and make a quick exit, but what escapes from his lips is a gasp. He even stumbles backwards a little, because that’s how shocked Changmin is to see (here and now and after all this time) Jaejoong standing right in front of him.

 

Upon hearing Changmin gasp, Jaejoong looks up as well, and his face pales visibly.

 

They stare at each other, wide-eyed, and Changmin tries desperately to think of something, anything, to say, because this time he’s not going to run away. He notes automatically that Jaejoong looks like shit, and maybe before he would’ve felt some small, malicious prick of pleasure at the thought, but now he just feels sort of sad.

 

“Changmin,” Jaejoong starts, voice soft, “I—” but Changmin hears someone calling him across the room and turns around. Jaejoong falls silent, swallowing hard.

 

Yoochun’s waving at him, calls, “Changmin, Junsu and I are going to head back now. You coming?”

 

Changmin manages to smile, says, “No, no, it’s all right. I can get my own ride back.” He waits until they walk away before turning back, but even before he does he knows it’s too late.

 

Jaejoong’s gone.

*

Some of his former high still lingers, but it’s draining fast. Now he just feels listless and weary and there’s no point in staying. He gets up to go, swaying slightly, and tosses down the rest of his drink. Home, then, except it isn’t his home. Changmin reminds himself to find another apartment. Two weeks, that’s what he promised Junsu.

 

“Hey. You going to take your buddy?”

 

Changmin turns, surprised, and sees Jaejoong slumped over the bar. “So he was still here,” he thinks, and then, incredulously— “Of all the luck.” Bad luck, that is.

 

He’s about to tell the bartender that Jaejoong is most definitely not his friend but hesitates, rational side taking over. Jaejoong’s obviously here alone, or if he came with other people, they’ve already left. There’s no one Changmin can try to contact besides Yunho, and even if he had Yunho’s phone number, the thought of them together makes him squirm uneasily. And he can’t, he just can’t leave him there. Technically it doesn’t matter what he does. Chances are Jaejoong’s probably so drunk he won’t even remember this come morning.

 

“Um,” he says instead. “Oh. Yeah.” He inches over to where Jaejoong’s sitting. “Jaejoong,” he hisses loudly, and snaps his fingers. “Jae, you awake?”

 

There’s no response, and Changmin sighs. He grabs one of Jaejoong’s arms, slinging it around his shoulder, and hoists him up until Jaejoong’s standing somewhat awkwardly, mainly leaning on him.

 

“Okay, let’s go,” Changmin says brightly, and weaves his way through the club as best he can.

 

Jaejoong is heavy and Changmin starts to wish he’d just left with Yoochun and Junsu. He manages to hail a cab, and shoves Jaejoong in before getting in himself.

 

“Where to?” the cabdriver asks, glancing skeptically at Jaejoong’s prone body.

 

Changmin rattles off Jaejoong’s address, flopping backwards with a groan and rubbing his eyes. Next time he wants to do a good deed he should just donate money to charity. Screw escorting his drunken ex-boyfriend safely home.

 

The taxi takes a sharp turn. Jaejoong falls towards Changmin, and all of a sudden Changmin’s looking straight into wide-open eyes. Before he can blink Jaejoong’s hands are on his arms and Changmin has to bite back a yelp; they’re so cold.

 

“Get off me,” he squeaks, shoving Jaejoong off. For a second Changmin thinks he sees a flicker of hurt and confusion on Jaejoong’s face, but it fades when Jaejoong relapses into unconsciousness. Changmin presses a hand to his heart; he’s not going to let this affect him.

 

They finally arrive in front of Jaejoong’s apartment, and Changmin seriously contemplates just dumping Jaejoong on the sidewalk and driving away.

 

The driver thinks otherwise. “You better go with him, he looks pretty drunk,” he advises. “No telling if he can even make it up the stairs.”

 

“Thanks,” Changmin says dryly, looking first at Jaejoong and then at the apartment building, looming over them.

 

“Here we go,” he mutters.