Gathered white fabric embossed with shapes shimmering silver, lace overlay knit with intricate detailing winking and glittering in the spring sunlight past Jihyun's eyes, and for a moment Rem is transfixed before the skirts swish on past her. She hears a loud click! to her right, starts, and turns to find herself face-to-lens with a rather large and expensive-looking camera.
"Oh."
"Sorry, trying to get a picture of the groom's son."
"Of course," Rem steps to the side, allowing the photographer to sink into her previous position and angle his camera toward Jumin, who's promptly swallowed up by the crowd after the shutter sounds.
It's Jihyun's first wedding and Rem's first time seeing one so close, her view from the shinigami realm corrupted by the dirty air and her lack of an invitation. Describing Chairman Han's wedding by Rem's experiences with spying on them would be like describing the human realm by a single apple, though, with no way to convey the gentle falling of cherry blossom petals to the raised wooden floor, the lavishly dressed women and men matching one another's motions in sync. The ceremony earlier was in a church much grander than the one Jihyun was accustomed to attending with his family, large pillars stretching to hold up a ceiling as endless as the sky, studded with chandeliers made of what Jumin said was diamond. Jihyun was initially disappointed to leave for the reception, but the cloud of fragrances, the tall trees reminding Rem of so many streets where Misa had her photo taken, and the low chatter of people mingling beneath the symphony of a live orchestra with Jihyun's own father seated at the grand piano make the atmosphere even greater than that of watching Jumin's father and new step-mother take their vows, Jumin standing uneasily to the side against a backdrop of stained glass.
Jihyun is Jumin's guest, not his father's, invitations expressly spelling out that the party is for adults only, glasses of rosé dangling from long manicured fingers. Jumin told Jihyun he doesn't enjoy large gatherings and has mixed feelings about attending at all, but skipping out on his father's wedding wasn't a viable option, and so he proposed that having someone his own age there would make it a better experience for him. Since arriving at the reception destination, though, Rem has hardly seen Jumin at all. The latter had tried his best at first to return to Jihyun for conversation while mingling with his father's guests, but gave up after forty-five minutes of barely managing two-liners between being grabbed by the arm and dragged off again.
Rem is content to stand alone, though, turning her gaze on the flowing gowns and wondering how they feel brushing delicately against the women's legs. Being a human male is similar to being a shinigami in this sense, and she adjusts the blue bowtie at her neck, thinking of the jewelry she used to own.
"Aren't they so darling?" Rem glances to her left to see a woman looking out at the scene. She looks slightly younger than Yunseo, black curls pinned close to her scalp and fringe cascading to frame her cheekbones. "The bride and groom, I mean," she clarifies, and Rem diverts her attention to where the Chairman and his wife have arranged themselves in seats at the front, sharing murmurs and watching the people dance below. "They look so in love."
"They do look lovely," Rem agrees, noting the damask detailing of Jumin's father's lapels and the glimmer of the bride's silver dusted arms as she moves closer to him, elegant, refined. Jumin told Rem he doesn't mind this girlfriend so far, that he thinks there might be some hope for his father since he actually wants to commit to her this time. Rem herself doesn't have much of an opinion, hasn't spoken to the woman at all other than to congratulate her once at the start of the ceremony, but she does know she's beautiful with amber eyes and a prominent jaw.
"Do you know their family?" the guest asks. "Actually, aren't you sort of young to be here? It seems like the only other underage person here is his son… oh, but maybe you just look young. Sorry for assuming."
"No, that is correct, I'm—"
"Gosh, I'm rambling, aren't I," the woman fusses with one of the curls at the side of her face. "I've never been to a party this fancy before, you know. I hear the Chairman's New Years party is a big deal, but I only just started working for the company in April so I haven't been to one of those yet. It's honestly a little overwhelming."
"I can imagine," Rem sympathizes.
"I hear that the Chairman is super easy to get close to," she prattles on, and as she launches into a spiel of gossip about Jumin's father's company, Jihyun realizes that his conversation partner isn't looking for a response from him at all. This happens bizarrely often, considering that so much of Rem's early life as Jihyun Kim was spent being told he should speak up more. Since starting middle school, whether during group projects or at lunch breaks where Jumin somehow gets caught up in business calls with his father on his phone for the entire period, Jihyun's classmates, teachers, fellow churchgoers, and now, apparently, wedding guests he's never met before are inclined to divulge their grievances, goings-on, and even secrets to him for some reason Rem can't pinpoint.
"Your eyes are sincere," Jumin offered as explanation one day when Jihyun brought it up, but that hardly clarifies anything. Eyes exist to see, not to convey. More likely, she became experienced with listening to the thoughts of others when she descended from the shinigami realm and became Misa's and then Higuchi's confidante.
Other than the fact the content of most people's thoughts are irredeemably boring, Jihyun doesn't mind, and when C&R International's new employee tells him she's going to visit the appetizer table, he starts moving from his position on the edge of the dance floor to engage with the various guests attending the party. Staring in awe at extravagance most of the attendees are used to makes Jihyun more consipicuous, after all, than talking to people does, and taking photos on her phone of the stunning ensembles she's been so fascinated by all afternoon without permission even more so; the least she can do is give out compliments.
"You look like an angel," she says, recalling words a photographer once said to Misa during a photo shoot. The woman stands tall, shoulders broad and square under an airy pink dress. The woman smiles brightly, confirming to Rem that this is a worthwhile activity as she moves on to the next person.
"You're quite the handsome lad yourself," one guest tells Jihyun, peering down at him above a long necklaced throat, glued-down jewels decorating her cheeks.
"Thank you," Rem replies.
"And so polite—"
"Have you offered him champagne?" someone calls over, and Rem turns her head to see a woman with a tray balancing on her hand walking over to them.
"He's underage, dear."
"Oh!" the server blushes. "My mistake—"
"Where's the Chairman?" another person interrupts. "I'd like to give him my greetings before—"
"He's on the dance floor, of course, with his son—"
Jumin's dark hair bobs lowly between people moving left and right in Jihyun's peripheral, a burst of laughter, the sound of glass shattering and bubbling gold drink spills near Jihyun's shoe and Jumin is gone.
"I am so sorry—"
"Well, it is a wedding!"
"But still—"
"May I have this dance, love?" Jihyun turns around, a woman in a red dress covers her mouth, laughs, and looks away shyly.
"Love, then—" she says—
"I can't believe they're not serving vodka." Hair styled up to such a height it looks as though it might fall over.
"Bonhwa, come say hello before you leave!"
The sun traverses lower across the sky, bright blue becomes deeper, scent of flowers, women's conditioner, eyelids painted carnation and cerulean.
High-heeled shoes step into place, crossing, never colliding, Jihyun turns around and nearly stumbles over his own feet.
"Say you want to dance—"
"You couldn't pay me to dance with him!"
"Oh, but have you ever been to his house? He has a bookcase taller than—"
Loud gasp. "Where did you put the maejakgwa?"
"No, she just turned twenty-five—"
"Would you like a glass of ice water?"
The glass is cold and wet in Rem's hand and she steps, gracefully, gratefully, away from the floor, away from the noise, across the grass. The cool air hits her face and she continues on, looking for something stable, looking for something to lean on—
She stumbles backwards over a step and turns to catch herself on the gazebo railing, a tuft of black hair below her nearly colliding with her nose.
"Jumin?"
Jihyun's friend sits, knees crammed to his chest, back pressed up against slatted gate wall. His palms are pressed into his eyes, breath shallow, folded like wings tucked in and away. Jihyun scrambles below, lowers one knee to the floor and props himself up with the other.
"Jumin, are you all right?"
Jumin is silent, and Jihyun's heart hammers in his chest, glass in his hand chilling through his skin. He takes a breath and wills himself to focus. He's seen this before, his father sitting with his hands pressed over his ears because they forgot to close the windows when their car reached the highway, mother reaching to yank the steering wheel so they can pull to the side before the black minivan behind them can crash their car, mumbling "Right, of course, we forgot the traffic," reaching behind her beside Jihyun's feet to grab a bottle of—
"Do you need water?" Jihyun asks, and extends the glass in his hand toward his friend. Jumin shakes into his sigh and Jihyun bites his lip, shifting into a sitting position at Jumin's side. He shouldn't have left Jumin alone, should've anticipated something would go wrong that would result in this. But then— what could it be? Jihyun peers up over the railing and sees his father still seated behind the piano, filling the air with his music even as the sounds of the party grow ever louder.
Was it the noise? The colours? The scents, the dizzying motion of guests weaving steps across the floor? Or perhaps someone said something, or perhaps someone did something to hurt him, and heat rises to Jihyun's cheeks, awareness of the fragility of the glass in his hand overcoming him as he considers the—
"Jihyun?" A small voice.
"Yes, it's me," Rem breathes, hearing her human name tumble from her friend's lips. "Are you all right? Did something happen?"
"No. Well... actually."
Jumin heaves another inhale and Jihyun gestures again with the water. "Drink this," he says, and Jumin grasps the cup, drains it of its contents, and sets it down with a clink of the ice.
Jihyun waits, one moment, two, then tentatively moves to touch Jumin's shoulder.
"Oh."
"I'm sorry," Jumin says, and Jihyun looks down at the hand Jumin smacked away, pulling it slowly back.
"It's all right," Jihyun reassures him, and then sinks back against the wall again and resolves to shut his mouth.
The noise drifting from where the others celebrate grates even as it's muted, notes jumbling together nonsensically in Jihyun's head even knowing his father was so careful and calculating in crafting them. Jihyun breathes, deep and practiced as Jumin reshuffles his position to arrange his legs below him, chest rising and falling in a tempo too fast.
Rem looks up when his hand closes over hers, cold and a little— damp, almost.
"I'm sorry," he says again, and Rem says, "It's all right."
With his other hand, Jumin reaches up, looks about to tousle his precisely styled hair and then thinks better of it, running it down his face to his chin instead.
"I don't know why this happened," he confesses, and Rem nods.
"I understand," she claims, though she's not sure she does, and Jumin nods back at her, small bob in his throat as he swallows.
"I was— I was talking, no—"
He falls silent.
"It's all right," she repeats, watches him hang his head low so she can't see his eyes. His jaw clenches so tight the pulse in his cheek is observable, and Rem wants to do something, to fix this, to have this be easy for him— "Can I touch you?"
The request spells itself out before she understands why she's making it.
The pulsing stops, and Jumin turns his studious gaze on her. Her chest alights, nerves rolling over her skin, stiffness of the dress shirt becoming even stiffer, as if he's going to burn holes through her, as if she's going to melt, or crumble and flake away—
"I don't… know," he says, and Rem shakes herself from her trance to nod. Jumin's grasp on Rem's hand between them firms slightly, and she realizes he's raising it to his cheek, pausing just a moment and then nesting his face against it.
"You're warm," Jumin comments.
"You haven't felt my other hand," says Jihyun.
"Why, what's wrong with your other hand?" Jumin murmurs, gingers his fingers against Jihyun's dorsal.
"It was holding the ice water."
Jumin snorts, and it's a nice sound. His gold cufflinks reflect in his silver eyes, pale lips cast in the shadow of Jihyun's touch, and he takes a steady breath. "How did you know where to find me?" he asks.
"I didn't," Jihyun admits, and Jumin's eyes meet his. "I came here for some air, and found you were here too."
"Thank God for needing air, then," Jumin proclaims.
"I'm sorry I left you alone."
"You didn't," Jumin insists. "I left you."
"You were taken," Jihyun corrects him, and Jumin laughs.
"I was taken," he agrees. His smile lingers on his face another moment, and then dissipates into a memory. He shuts his eyes again.
Jihyun's arm starts to grow stiff, but that's fine, and he looks across the gazebo to where a couple speak together by the opening. The party isn't over yet, not even close, but there seems to be a lull as the attendees settle into the pattern of it. Jihyun can't see the main floor from here, but there's not much there that he particularly wants to look at, right now.
"People were touching my," Jumin speaks, and Jihyun turns to face him again, "hair," mouth vibrates against Jihyun's palm, "and my face, too," a sigh, "and my shoulders, and…" he trails off, long eyelashes pointed toward the floor. "I suppose it's normal, as we were dancing."
His words are foreign to each other, slotted together like puzzle pieces from different boxes rather than the deliberate and precise selection Jihyun's come to expect from him. Jumin quiets, and Jihyun wonders if it's his cue to say something, offer some kind of comfort.
Jumin mumbles, "I just don't like it when a lot of people I don't know touch me, I suppose."
"That's reasonable," Rem tells him, and it occurs to her to wonder when she gained any authority to asses what is and is not reasonable human behaviour. Jumin shrugs.
"I just don't want to have to go back there," he laments. "I don't want to…"
"Then don't," Rem tells him, brushes her thumb against his cheek.
Jumin frowns. "I have to."
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Rem urges, and maybe it's true. Maybe it isn't. But it doesn't matter, when Jumin is this upset.
"I don't want to," he mumbles.
Rem moves her other hand, tilts Jumin's chin up. He stares at her, transfixed, and she wills herself not to look away.
"You don't have to," she asserts.
Jumin takes another breath. "Stay with me?"
"I only came here for you," Jihyun reminds him.
"Thank you," Jumin says.
They sit for a few minutes in silence before tension slowly melts away, music drifting toward she and Jumin symphonic once again, smell of sweets and appetizers mixing with perfumes like they're from another world. Jihyun tells Jumin jokes Rem remembers Misa telling, and Jumin talks to Jihyun about his latest research subject— textiles, which he's been talking to Jihyun about for the past three weeks. Jihyun's suit is linen. Jumin's is silk and wool, and the dresses below are chiffon, silk, satin—brocade, mostly, some lamé, Jumin's eye for detail never faulting him even once.
"They're so beautiful," Jihyun says.
"They're all right," Jumin agrees. The servers catch on to Jihyun and Jumin's gathering place and bring them virgin cocktails, which Jumin downs enthusiastically.
"I wonder what these are supposed to taste like," he muses. "Since they're so excellent as is."
"Alcohol is terrible," Rem tells him, thinking of Higuchi, his languid and leering gaze, his gruff and belligerent shouts.
"Well, that depends on the alcohol," Jumin replies. "Some taste better than others, and the content level in any given drink can differ." Jihyun prepares himself to be taught about all the different types of alcohol Jumin is familiar with, but a wrinkle forms between his brows. "… I suppose I should return to the dance floor."
Jihyun watches him. "Are you all right with that?" Jumin places his glass on the floor.
"I don't particularly have a choice," he says. "Though sitting here with you is extremely preferable… but perhaps if I somehow dodge the people trying to make me dance it shouldn't be so bad?"
That's what he did before, while all those people felt entitled to grasp at him and whisk him off, and then touch his hair, and his face, and his shoulders, and Rem remembers Misa in Higuchi's car, remembers her meaningful glance at Rem, her reliance on Rem's protection, the certainty in her voice when she said, If you try anything, I'll kill you, and pretended to pull paper from her purse.
"I'll dance with you."
"What?"
"… I said I'll dance with you, and I won't let anyone else."
Silence not silence, crescendo overhead, piano, violin, one song melting into the next song and the voices, frantic voices, voices just bursting with unimportant drivel to say to any ear that will listen, or not listen, or pretend to listen—
"So I can blame my clingy escort, then, for hogging me," Jumin grins, Jumin lights up, Jumin gives warmth to the earth and all its glitter-decked and cold inhabitants, spilling forth from Jihyun's chest onto his face into a matching smile, "Exactly."
"Weeeell, I suppose I have no choice, then," Jumin stands with exaggerated weariness and pulls Jihyun with him to his feet.
"No choice at all," Jihyun agrees, and for a moment they simply look at each other, hand in ruffled sleeve-decorated hand, two people moving as one to descend gazebo steps.
A/N: This fic finally gets an update after being on hold for five months! (Five months? Five months?) The good news, which you may already know if you follow my tumblr ( inkreservoir) or my twitter ( ink_reservoir), is that I now have a completed outline and a tentative chapter count of 26 chapters total for this story. I'm not sure how it turned into such a large project but I think that's generally how it goes. That said, future chapters should be coming at a faster rate than this one did. Finally, I want to thank you so much for your patience, favourites, and feedback. Thank you for reading, and reviews are always appreciated!