It's a spectacle when the cake is rolled out. Three tiers of white frosting, golden beads and buttercream roses. The grooms cut it diligently using one knife, which seems inefficient, but does make for good pictures. 

There's still a miniature mosh pit happening on the dance floor. Minho is teaching a group of kids (and a few adults) how to Vogue. Jisung watches from their table, working through a hefty slice of cake. He can't stop thinking about Minho's hands at his waist, the taste of salt and watermelon on his lips.

Damn him. Damn him for kissing Jisung like the world was ending and then walking away intact.

Jisung turns away, trying to find something else to look at. He notices Soobin across the room talking to a guest. Jisung's conversation with the baker couple surfaces in his mind, though it feels like it happened a thousand years ago. He wants to bombard Soobin with questions about Minho's studio, but to do that, he'd be putting their lie on the line. Information travels fast at weddings.

He looks back at the dance floor. Minho is in a pirouette battle with a little girl in a tutu. Barely a few twirls and he stumbles, dramatically admitting defeat while the girl giggles and jumps around, looking so happy that she might float away.

Jisung's heart swells. It's almost painful. He wants to shove his face in his cake.

Instead he gets up and marches across the room, straight up to Soobin.

"Hi," he says. "I'm Han Jisung."

"Jo Soobin." They shake hands. "I know who you are."

That would have been ominous, but Soobin's voice is neutral, his expression doesn't betray even a hint of emotion. Maybe he's just a practical guy. Fingers crossed.

Jisung feels compelled to preface the conversation with: "The wedding has been beautiful. Love the colour scheme and everything."

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you came."

"Uh, why?"

"Sangkyu was worried it could be awkward for some reason."

"Well. Yeah, I mean, I just came to eat free food."

Luckily Soobin knows he's joking. He puffs through his nose, a laugh. "Resourceful."

Jisung clears his throat. "Yeah, so, I came with Lee Minho — he's the tall child over there?"

Soobin nods. "I know, the realtor. He's a good dancer — you're good too. Sangkyu didn't tell me that about you."

"Right. Yeah. Minho taught me to dance, actually. Because he's my dance teacher. And we're not dating."

Soobin's head cants. "Okay..."

"Look, getting your invitation, it was kind of hell, because it is awkward, I'm very awkward, and I joked that I couldn't come to the wedding unless I found a successful boyfriend first, and Minho offered to pretend to be my boyfriend so I wouldn't be the sad, lonely, humiliated ex." Jisung takes a deep breath. "To sum it up."

"I... see. And you're telling me this, why?"

"I heard you own the mall by the river — right?"

"I do."

"Minho used to have a dance studio there. The landlord before you raised the rent and Minho couldn't afford to keep the space. He misses it and I... I just want to help him out. So, tell me about your property. Do you have any vacancies? What's the rent?"

Soobin blinks a few times and says "You told me all that... to ask me about real estate?"

Jisung scratches the back of his head. "Yeah. I guess I should apologize too. I'm happy for you and Sangkyu, seriously. And sorry for asking you about work on your wedding day. And for drinking so many cocktails. They were really good. Sorry."

Soobin studies him for a moment, then looks past him. Minho is eating cake with the teen crowd, crosslegged on the floor.

"This is unusual," Soobin says. "I suppose I understand though. Putting on a front, protecting yourself. And if that guy offered to help me out, I'd find a way to make it work. Don't tell Sangkyu I said that."

Jisung mimes zipping his lips.

"But no, unfortunately, the mall is getting torn down later in the year. So, so many rats. It's going to be affordable housing, a few storefronts, but nothing for rent for at least a couple years."

Jisung deflates. "Okay. Do you know any other places he could go? Anything?"

Soobin sighs. "His business has to be sustainable. He'd have to be able to make rent."

"Yes, of course. His business is dancing and — and passion, human connection." Jisung points at the dance floor. "Don't you think those kids would want to go back if they had a class with him? Not just the kids — there're all kinds of people in his class at the gym, and it's not like we have to go back every week, we choose to, because of him."

Soobin eyes Jisung with an inscrutable look. "I don't have anything. But an associate might." He takes a piece of paper and pen out of a pocket inside his jacket, scribbles something and gives it to Jisung. "Pass this on. Maybe he'll get lucky."

Jisung holds the paper carefully, like it might burst into flame if he mishandles it. "Thank you. So much. Jesus Christ. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

Soobin looks like he has a reply ready, but suddenly Sangkyu is next to him, smiling a weird chipper smile.

"Hey," he says, "what's going on here?"

"Nothing." Jisung looks at Soobin, silently pleading with him not to utter a word of this. "Talking... about the cake."

Soobin nods solemnly. "Very good cake." He gives Jisung a look and decides, "I'll let you two talk alone. Nice to meet you, Jisung."

He walks away. Shit. Jisung clears his throat, trying to come up with something to say. He lands on the same wedding compliment he used earlier.

"Thank you," Sangkyu replies. "It was all Soobin."

"You two are great together."

"Well, obviously you and the realtor guy are too."

Jisung swallows. "Yeah, he's... great."

"Okay, look, I'm just going to say it. I'm sorry I invited you. My mother said I should since she and your parents are still in touch, and Soobin was asking why I wouldn't want to invite you, and—" He sighs. "God. Sorry. I feel weird about it too."

All Jisung can manage is, "Oh."

"Yeah. So... no hard feelings?"

He almost laughs. He's so done with this, and the reception isn't even over.

"No, no hard feelings."

They waver between a hug and a handshake and land on a high five. Sangkyu walks away quickly. Jisung breathes a sigh of relief.

He pulls the paper out of his pocket and scans the room for Minho. He's back at their table, free of his little entourage. Jisung speed-walks across the room — stealthily avoiding Sangkyu's mother — and drags a chair up to Minho.

"We need to talk," he says.

"Hey, where'd you go? Thought you might've gone to wash your hands again."

"I was talking to Soobin about his property—"

"You were what?"

"I had to ask him about places you could rent as a studio."

"You didn't come clean, did you?"

"I kind of had to!"

"Why would you do that!"

"Christ, just shhh — this is important. I asked about your old location, it's getting torn down and made into housing — but — Soobin said he knows someone who might be able to help you."

Jisung holds out the piece of paper. Minho doesn't even look at it. He's staring at Jisung with puppy-dog eyes, mouth hanging open.

"You gave it away... for me?"

"It wasn't that bad, really. Kind of embarrassing. But it paid off, right?"

"For me?"

"Yeah. For you."

Minho slowly takes the paper and unfolds it. He seems so vulnerable now, miles away from the guy on the dance floor, the star of the show. Jisung wants to understand this side of Minho, all the unsure, quiet places inside him, the gooey centre of his heart.

He wants to tell Minho that. And when Minho meets his eyes, it's nearly impossible to keep his mouth shut.

It registers distantly that the grooms and guests are converging on the floor to toss the bouquet. But it doesn't really hit him until it hits him — in the back of the head.

The white bouquet bounces and Minho manages to catch it out of the air. Jisung palms his head and looks back over his shoulder. The guests are cheering. The singles are disappointed. Sangkyu is doubled over laughing. Soobin just gives a satisfied smile.

Jisung flushes and looks back at Minho. He's rubbing the back of his neck, red creeping across his face.

"Hey," Jisung laughs awkwardly, "we even tricked the bouquet."

Minho smiles and passes him the flowers. "Jisung, thank you so much. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. We're good."

"I'm just... really glad I met you."

"Yeah. I am too."

They smile at each other. Something fills the space between their bodies. Jisung pretends not to notice.

Minho's entourage comes swarming around the table, begging him to teach them something new before they leave. (Bedtime looms as the afterparty liquors are brought out.) Minho lets himself be towed away by a dozen little hands, glancing back at Jisung over his shoulder.