writing dump for things that don't make it to ao3

sangju | angst

It's half past 2 in the afternoon and there's no sign of Sangyeon anywhere. Juyeon wants to up and leave but he knows this meeting is crucial to them both. So he sinks himself back into the leather sofa, leaning his head back to stare at the peeling paint on the ceiling.

It comes in waves – the nerves, the jittery feelings, the quake in his voice, the shakiness of his fingertips, the quiver of his lips. He knows it's coming – the end of their union, the end of their relationship. the end of Sangyeon and Juyeon, and yet, he struggles to wrap his head around the concept.

Because for the longest time, it has always been them. Sangyeon and Juyeon against the world – the two best friends turned lovers, the star-crossed lovers, the perfect two. Nothing could ever come in between them.

Everyone used to call them the template. The go-to example of what a perfect relationship should look like.

But this template is far from perfect, this template is not exemplary, this template was tearing apart at the seams, Juyeon wanted to tell his friends, but honestly, he doesn't even know if he still had the right to confide in his friends. Ever since he's been with Sangyeon, he never felt the need to have anyone else. Just Sangyeon was enough, just Sangyeon will do.

And so he drifted apart – from Eric, from Sunwoo, from Chanhee. The last interaction he had with them was a belated birthday message for Chanhee which he had sent in their group chat. There was no reply, as usual, but Juyeon had lost the need to care. He didn't get upset or didn’t find the need to sulk. He had no capacity to be mad, or to feel anything at all.

And that's alright. It's not his friends' fault. If Juyeon was better at processing his emotions, better at communicating how he felt, none of this would have happened.

He wouldn't have to sit with his feelings, wouldn't have to stare at peeling paint from ceilings, and wouldn't have to have this conversation with Sangyeon.

He would be a little more sane, a little more happy, a little more content with life than just this.

“Sorry, I was caught up in traffic,” Sangyeon saunters in then, a blazer over his arm, a suitcase in hand. And of course, he looks perfect. Even when he's rushing from one office to another, spending hours in and out of meetings, even when his tie is a little out of place – Juyeon thinks he's perfect, still.

“It's fine, I wasn't doing anything,” Juyeon sits up, scratching the back of his neck. He takes a quick look at his outfit, wondering if his jeans and flannel shirt were a little underdressed for a conversation so serious. Juyeon purses his lips, bringing his cup of coffee to his chin. He takes a tentative sip while Sangyeon hollers his order across the cafe.

Sangyeon gives him a small smile and Juyeon feels his heart crack in his chest. The smile was too unfamiliar, too foreign and fake for him to comprehend. but juyeon still returns it. Sangyeon clears his throat, loosening the tie around his collar. He doesn’t want to be here, Juyeon mentally notes. But he’s more distracted by his tie.

Juyeon wants to wrap his fingers around that tie, to pull him into a searing kiss, to just remember what kissing him feels like. And maybe that was all Sangyeon needed too – to remember.

“I brought the papers,” Sangyeon says, bringing Juyeon back to reality.


“The papers, so you can sign and we can move past this part quickly,” Sangyeon says nonchalantly, typing away at his phone as if Juyeon wasn’t sitting in front of him awaiting an explanation.

Why did you have to ruin something so perfect, Sangyeon?

For a moment, Juyeon stares into his cup of coffee silently. But he finds this whole situation painfully amusing, so he laughs.

Juyeon laughs wryly, almost bitterly as tries his best to hold himself back from causing a scene. But to no avail.

“It's funny, years ago you wanted to marry me just as quickly, no?” Juyeon chuckles, taking another sip of his coffee. It tastes bitter and insipid on his tongue, just how he liked it. (Just like how he felt)

“Juyeon, don't make this harder for me than it already is,”

Juyeon scoffs then, putting his coffee onto the porcelain saucer. He looks at Sangyeon then. His face is twisted in irritation, his brows furrowed and the nasty snarl he had on his face served as a warning for Juyeon to not push it any longer.

But Juyeon is Juyeon.

“Hard for you? Sangyeon, I'm not the one who knocked their secretary up,” The next thing Juyeon hears is the sound of the metal chair screeching against the floor. Sangyeon has gotten up.

“I'm leaving, just fax the papers over. I've got no time for this,`” Sangyeon mutters curtly, throwing the stack of papers on the table.

Juyeon watches as Sangyeon makes his way to the cashier, getting his coffee to go while also paying the bill. Juyeon balls his hands into fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms.

He hates that even in times like this, Sangyeon would remind him that he's fucking nothing. It's like Sangyeon existed to remind Juyeon that he would be nowhere near functioning if it wasn't for him.

And that thought made him sick but mostly, it made him feel empty.

Where do I go from here, Sangyeon?