There was a time when Wonwoo saw nothing but shades of white and gold every single year.
Bands glittering underneath the Tuscan sun or flowers softly swaying under a canopy of red woods, the scent of earth clinging to his shoes at every step. Where the revelry went for hours and hours on end and the wine flowed like a fountain as shrieks of laughter broke the night air and made it warm. He also remembers swaddles of cloth and love held in the arms of his friends, of rosy-cheeked babies and long afternoons rolling on hills and picnics underneath the trees.
And then like the changing of the seasons, of summer bleeding into the cold winds of fall until the harshness of winter surprises him one morning when he least expected it, an ocean of black and somber white was all he could see—of umbrellas held under the rain and cold headstones. The scent of earth clinging to his shoes smells like mourning.
Not everyone lives forever.
The heart, at some point, grows old with weariness and succumbs to resignation as its other half remains lost—a boat untethered to its shore.
Wonwoo will watch friends turn old and grey, skin withering until he gazes into their milky eyes and realize that recognition has long passed and they remember nothing of their nights of revelry when the wine flowed and the laughter went on until morning.
Wonwoo makes sure to attend every funeral as an apology—all sixty-five years worth of it.
The butler had already prepared his suit by the time Wonwoo dropped the call. He does not know if he wishes to praise his efficiency or to worry about how they have established a routine with how often Wonwoo receives calls like he just had these days.
It feels like the grim reaper is also calling for him.
Nevertheless, Wonwoo slips the suit on—he used to have a favorite but as the years passed, the threads began to fray and Wonwoo had to call for a new one. He thinks he likes this one best, it's simple and it will be easier for him to blend with the crowd later.
Wonwoo had never liked drawing attention to himself.
“I'll pick you up after, Sir?” His butler asks, a tall blond man who does not look a day over eighteen but has worked for Wonwoo for over twenty-seven years. He has a silver band on his finger and his hands are smooth and pale—some are lucky to have found their soulmate so young and stay frozen in youth, forever.
And is that not one's ultimate desire?
Countless tomes of literature and reels of films have spoken about humanity's search for the fountain of youth, for the elixer that cures old age and sickness and lets the beholder stay young for all of eternity.
But Wonwoo had come to realize that these are nothing but products of souls who have not found their own souls, the chattering of mad men in the dark or the drunken conversation from one bottle of spirits to another.
A hidden desire, a prayer to the lost gods.
“No need,” Wonwoo replies as he slips inside the back seat of the car, bringing his wrist in front of him to check the time. “I'll be fine.”
His butler steals a look on the rearview mirror for a second, kind understanding in his eyes, before he nods and they drive off.
The funeral this time is quick and only attended by a few friends and family.
Wonwoo sees some familiar faces during the service and he chances upon Seungcheol once the casket had been lowered and Wonwoo had finished offering his respects to the family.
“Leaving already?” Seungcheol greets him, face just as cherubic as Wonwoo remembers when he first met him in college, fourty-three years ago. “You haven't even said hello to the gang, yet.”
Wonwoo rolls his eyes at Seungcheol's fatherly tendencies but he supposes it's warranted. Seungcheol is the oldest friend Wonwoo has ever had.
“I'll see all of you at dinner tonight anyway,” Wonwoo replies as they walk side by side on the grassy lawn of the cemetery. It's a shame that most of New York's greeneries are found here.
“Forgive me if I wish to spare myself a few hours of peaceful sanity.”
“Dramatic as always,” Seungcheol scoffs as he folds the umbrella he had been carrying earlier when it started to drizzle. “They're not that bad.”
Wonwoo shrugs as he focuses his gaze on Seungcheol's side profile, “What? Don't they tire you?”
The older is quiet for a minute as they simply walk in companionable silence.
When you have known someone as long as Wonwoo has known Seungcheol, there is no need to fill every meeting with conversation—Wonwoo knows enough as much as Seungcheol knows him enough. Understanding each other was just as inherent as breathing, Wonwoo thinks there was no else in the world that he knew him in the way Seungcheol did.
Eternity is often lonely as Wonwoo had come to realize but he's glad he will always have a familiar face to go back to.
“I think funerals always had a way of shocking me back to reality despite having lived this long,” Seungcheol starts. “It's a cold reminder to me that not everyone has a lot of time, not everyone is like us.”
Immortality was conditional: a person stops aging only if they meet their soul mate. No one knows how this rule came to be, the gods have long refrained from answering prayers and neither history offers any answer. It simply just was and that is how they came to be.
Yet despite such premise, they could still die. Old age will not touch them, not even if they grow as old as the mountains that once were piles of rocks and seas that once were barren with water. But Death has other ways to announce its arrival because after all, the heart is also a fragile, fragile thing.
Heart break was his favorite harbinger.
Sometimes meeting your soulmate does not mean the guarantee of forever. Sometimes differences do not work out even if their destinies have been written in the stars.
Stars after all, no matter how bright they burn, die.
Human beings are fickle creatures and love becomes arbitrary when the years stretch long enough for it to simply be not enough.
“Good, now you're reminded to start my funeral preparations.”
Wonwoo gets nothing but a dead-eyed stare in return for his cheek.
“Do you still honestly believe you haven't found him?"
How was Seungcheol so sure?
“Of course,” Wonwoo scoffs, shrugging away the disbelief in Seungcheol's eyes. “I have been feeling old age in my bones lately, my joints hurt when it rains.”
Now, it's Seungcheol's turn to roll his eyes.
“You do not look like you've aged since the year we met,” Seungcheol replies, sounding like he's trying to explain a basic concept to a five year-old (Wonwoo knows, he's been around Seungcheol's kids for dinner long enough) when he had already explained it earlier but has to do it again.
Wonwoo does not think he appreciates the sentiment.
“Maybe you're the one getting old,” Wonwoo squints. “Don't you see my wrinkles?”
Seungcheol throws his hands up in the air in a whatever gesture and simply walks away with his back turned against Wonwoo, the picture of defeat. There's a car waiting for him at the curb and Wonwoo does not have to guess that Jeonghan is the one behind the wheel.
Late for every single thing unless it involved Seungcheol.
Mingyu as the eternal host of honor had figured that if he wanted their dinner parties to start on time, Seungcheol was the one to ask and not Jeonghan if they were going to make it.
“Don't forget dinner, grand pa!” Wonwoo calls after him and Seungcheol simply shoots Wonwoo the bird as his figure retreats even further until Seungcheol finally fades out of sight.
Despite Seungcheol's frustrations, Wonwoo still finds a reason to laugh at his old friend's antics. He know understands where Hyunbin got her moody tendencies.
"Well," Wonwoo sighs as he fishes for his phone, "Looks like I don't have a ride home after all."
"Why? Too old to walk home, old man?"
Wonwoo spins around, phone halfway raised to his ear as another (unfortunately) familiar face comes into view.
Wonwoo's mood immediately dampens.
“What are you doing here.”
“I'm attending a wedding,” Soonyoung hums, his tone adopting the sarcastic one he always has when he's within the hearing vicinity of Wonwoo's.
“Hope it's not yours, I fear for the groom,” Wonwoo fires back with the same ease of banter and dose of acidity.
“Aww. Jealous, darling?” Soonyoung grins mockingly as he shrugs a black jean-jacket over a frayed band shirt, horribly under-dressed as per usual.
“Don't flatter yourself, I'm merely concerned for the poor man that has to spend eternity with you.” Wonwoo mutters as he pockets his phone and begins to resume his walk towards the cemetery's exit.
Uncaring if Soonyoung follows.
But like a fly that annoyingly buzzes in one's ear, Wonwoo hears the rush of hurried footsteps.
“Shouldn't you be more concered about those wrinkles, old man?” Soonyoung replies, easily falling into step with him despite the younger's obvious disdain, which he has made very clear every time Wonwoo was present.
"Shouldn't you start dressing in warmer clothes? Those jeans can't be too good for your blood circulation."
Wonwoo doesn't remember when he first met Soonyoung but he distinctly remembers the wave of white-hot anger that came crashing down when the younger clumsily crashed against him and consequently, the diorama Wonwoo had spent weeks building for class.
To his credit, Soonyoung had tried to help Wonwoo and even going as far as offering to come with him to class to explain what happened to Wonwoo's professor. But patience was not (yet) a virtue Wonwoo had come to cultivate and he was too proud for his own good to accept Soonyoung's apologies despite the younger's insistence.
And thus began a war that spanned all through out college as Wonwoo had retaliated by sneaking into Soonyoung's frat house (courtesy of a once-impressionble Chan) and putting powdered chalk all over his clothes and beddings and well, his laptop was just lying there and Wonwoo had a year of computer engineering before he shifted to creative writing and got, well, creative.
Soonyoung not one to take such insult lying down, had proceeded to egg every inch and crevice of Wonwoo's newly-washed car so much that it had to take three more washes for the older to get the smell off.
In hindsight, Wonwoo thinks they could have just talked it out like proper and civilized human beings. But pride was on the line and Wonwoo had spent way too much money on balloons that he had blown up and snuck in Soonyoung's car to bake under the heat and pop simultaneously the moment the Dance major attempted to open the car doors.
As such, it just became a thing to both their eternal thirst for revenge to one-up the other and their friend's amusement.
("I've never seen Wonwoo exert so much effort until he meet Soonyoung," Mingyu mutters in quiet awe as he watched two of his friends chase each other down the lawn with a can of whipped cream. "You couldn't even pay him to attend sports day."
Jeonghan simply hums as he grabs the can of beer from the still-frozen man and leans back on the beach chair he had comandeered from one of the frat houses for No-Beach-Beach Day.
"Sometimes your soul mate makes you crazy.")
"Don't worry, I'll still out live you." Soonyoung replies as he twirls his car keys over a finger. "Now, does the senior citizen need a ride?"
There's a scathing reply at the tip of Wonwoo's tongue but it gets cut off as a gust of wind billows around them, making the both of them shiver and goose bumps to errupt on their exposed skin.
Freezing to (possible) death just to wait for Desmond to arrive will save his pride but Wonwoo had just come from a funeral and he's just about ready to call it a night with a glass of wine to lull him to sleep.
Getting stuck in an awkward car ride with Soonyoung seems like the lesser of two evils and he wants Desmond to come home to his own family on time for dinner, for once.
"Fine," Wonwoo mutters as he walks towards the direction of the car park, "Get me home."
"Oh, is that a please I hear?"
"Fuck off," Wonwoo mutters as Soonyoung grins manically beside him as he rushes to his car.
Once they're both inside with much less fanfare than Wonwoo had come to expect, Wonwoo presses himself against the car door as close as possible to at least create a line of separation between him and Soonyoung.
Wonwoo will find a way to keep his dignity intact.
To his chagrin, Soonyoung doesn't even comment on it and simply drives.
The ride is silent for a few minutes save for the constant stream of whistling from Soonyoung's end after he had turned on the radio to some pop station that he knows will annoy Wonwoo to death. Wonwoo having no other desire to exert any unnecessary effort to interact with Soonyoung, simply keeps his mouth shut despite the headache throbbing in his temples at the repetitive lyrics.
"Hey, you think you'll die soon?" Comes the sudden question from Soonyoung as they drive out of the cemetery property and into the highway.
Wonwoo furrows his eyebrow for a second before he shrugs and decides there would be no harm to entertain Soonyoung's answer.
"If you still keep that smoking habit, you might." Wonwoo mutters as he eyes the pack of Malboros on Soonyoung's dashboard and the accompanying lighter beside it.
One of Wonwoo's eternal ticks was the smell of nicotine and Soonyoung was a walking cigarette pack ever since he met him. It was just natural for Wonwoo to add that to the long list of things he found annoying about Soonyoung.
"I stopped!" Soonyoung whines, petulant as if Wonwoo has greatly wronged him. "Why do you always think the worst?"
Wonwoo rolls his eyes at the younger's petty tears, "You've been smoking since college, how was I to know you stopped?"
He knew because the car was strangely absent of the scent of nicotine that used to line the leather over the years and he had seen Soonyoung stay on his seat the entire time during dinner last week, when the black-haired man would usually excuse himself during dessert for a smoke break.
"Well, I'm stopping now." Soonyoung mutters as he rubs a finger against his nose, body bowed in a self-conscious curve.
"Congrats? Is that what you want me to say?" Wonwoo wonders out loud and it only serves to make the hunch on Soonyoung's shoulders more pronounced.
"You don't know have to be such a dick about it," Soonyoung sniffs as he manuevers the car in the free way. "Asshole."
"Well, what did you want me to say then?" Wonwoo sighs as he rubs a tired hand against the space between his eyebrows.
"Nothing, forget it." Soonyoung replies tersely and his sudden closed-offness just serves to make Wonwoo's headache worse.
"Just spit it out, Soonyoung." Wonwoo mutters as he leans back on his seat and gazes out the window, "Or you'll end up holding it against me, again."
"I said it's nothing!" Soonyoung suddenly shouts and it makes Wonwoo jump on his seat with surprise.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Wonwoo hisses as he tries to calm his heart beat down, "Do you want to get us into an accident?"
"Oh so now I'm a horrible driver?"
"I did not say that you dip shit," Wonwoo fires back.
"You were implying it, dickhead."
"I really was not but if you're going to insist on it, fine. You're a horrible driver and I will fucking kill you if you get us in an accident."
The car grows quiet after that with nothing but Wonwoo's still-harsh breathing and Soonyoung's god-awful radio station to puncture the silence from time to time.
"I'm not," Soonyoung whispers after a while, strangely subdued after his sudden outburst.
Wonwoo watches him drive the car to the outermost lane before Soonyoung kills the engine and parks the car by the sidewalk in silence.
"What are you doing, some of us has to get home."
"I told you, I'm not gonna get us killed."
Wonwoo raises his eyebrow, slowly growing concerned over Soonyoung's unsual behavior, "Okay? Now drive?"
"Just..." Soonyoung sighs, a harsh sound escaping his teeth before he unbuckles his seatbelt but makes no move to get out of the car.
"Have you been drinking?" Wonwoo asks, "What is wrong with you, today?"
Wonwoo can feel the headache consuming his whole skull as his skin burns with impatience.
He has no time to deal with whatever brand of crazy Soonyoung has decided to dish out today and just wants to get home, take off his suit and wash the scent of flowers and burnt candle wicks out of his body and then drown himself with alcohol until he feels numb and he forgets the image of his hand throwing a rose at a dugged-out pocket of land as he watched its petals touch the solid wood of the casket being lowered to the ground.
He just wants to go home and forget that he lost another friend.
"Nothing's wrong, why do you always assume something's wrong with me?"
"Soonyoung, I'm not in the fucking mood to deal with your bullshit right now." Wonwoo breathes harshly through his teeth as he tries to will the headache away, "So you either drive me home or I can get out of this car and walk."
"Do you really hate being with me?"
It's said so quietly that Wonwoo could just miss it but they're alone and the highway is silent that Wonwoo hears every word.
He's about to reply when something glints on Soonyoung's cheek and Wonwoo realizes with aborted surprise that the younger is crying.
"Shit," Soonyoung swears once he (too) realizes that he was crying, "Shit, why the fuck am I crying?"
"Soon–" Wonwoo doesn't know what to do with his hands as Soonyoung keeps crying, tears stubbornly falling on his cheeks even if the younger tries so hard to wipe it off.
It's the first time Wonwoo has seen Soonyoung cry.
He has known him for fourty-one years.
Soonyoung's tears evolve into full-on sobs, shoulders hunching as his body is wrecked with the force of his cries and Wonwoo doesn't know what to do.
He doesn't know what to do, he has never had to take care of Soonyoung before.
The younger was always so bright and full of life even in the face of the worst of Wonwoo's pranks. The worst of his emotions was only limited to being pissed off after Wonwoo one-ups him or to bursts of annoyance that came when he couldn't get the choreography right for a dance recital or when his unreasonable boss piles another job on him which usually ended up on Soonyoung taking it out on Wonwoo in the dorms when they were still in college or after their dinner parties in his apartment.
Yes, they slept together.
Their petty rivalry had to rear it's ugly head at some point and it happened a few months after they started when they got into one of those arguments that had everyone fleeing the room to avoid the inevitable car crash.
Wonwoo doesn't remember who kissed who but he remembers ending up in Seokmin's bedroom with his pants halfway down his thighs and the feeling of his teeth clamping on his own fist as he tried to hide his moans as Soonyoung sucked him off.
Then he jerked the younger off to near passing out until they collapsed on their friend's bed with a tired sigh.
They still hated each other even after that but instead of ludicrous pranks, Soonyoung can leave mean bites on Wonwoo's shoulders where his shirt will hide them and Wonwoo can edge Soonyoung for hours if he pissed Wonwoo off that day.
It didn't have to mean anything else but another way to get revenege against each other.
Wonwoo could still see the bite he had left on Soonyoung three days ago peeking through the collar of the younger's shirt and if Wonwoo could concetrate enough, he can still feel the phantom throb from where Soonyoung had pressed his fingers deep into Wonwoo's shoulder as he fucked him from behind last week.
There's an entire constellation of themselves on each other's skin—pressed, bitten, kissed.
A reminder, a claim, a promise.
Wonwoo suddenly feels so, so tired all of a sudden.
He's so tired of having to pretend that all this time, from college up until this very moment where he's watching Soonyoung cry, he doesn't want to hold his hand.
"You are not going to die," Wonwoo starts, not knowing where he'll end up after this. "Not even in the nearest future or even after then."
A waterly laugh errupts from Soonyoung's mouth from where he's leaning on the steering wheel, "How sure are you?"
"I just am, Soonyoung." Wonwoo sighs as he looks ahead of him, through the window of the car and into the long and silent road.
"I could die anytime now," Soonyoung mutters. "I could die anytime."
"Why do you think you'll die, why are you so sure?"
Soonyoung scoffs as he lifts his head off from the steering wheel, "C'mon genius, you and I both know why."
Wonwoo turns his head and looks at Soonyoung straight in the eye.
He has known Soonyoung for fourty-one years.
Soonyoung sighs as he wipes the last of his tears off before looking away and staring at his own side of the window, "I don't have a soulmate. There. Happy now, asshole?"
"You really had to make me say it, don't you?" Soonyoung scoffs as he begins to start the car up, "You're really an asshole."
Wonwoo closes his eyes and thinks that he has known Soonyoung for fourty-one years.
Fourty-one years, Wonwoo should be over sixty now and yet he still looks like he's still twenty-three.
He met Soonyoung at twenty-three.
"What am I, then?" Wonwoo whispers, quiet.
A confession, albeit fourty-one years late.
"What are you what?" Soonyoung asks, tone confused as Wonwoo opens his eyes and stares back again at Soonyoung.
He has been in love with Soonyoung for fourty-one years.
"What am I, if not your soulmate?"
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