Everyone must attend a Jackson Wang party, at least once in their lifetime. Or so, Hendery's friend Johnny tells him for the nth time. "You've been stuck in that break up slump for more than a year now," he adds, an arched brow accompanied by with a side-glance shoots in Hendery's direction.

Dragged out steps against the wet sidewalk, as all the excuses have been used and washed away by the rain pouring down, drumming against their black umbrellas. Johnny Suh, more of an acquaintance than an actual friend, is back to visit Shanghai over the summer—and is just as persistent as Hendery remembers him to be.

"Don't even try to deny it, Hen, I've heard all about it from Sicheng. It'll be good for you to go out for once. Maybe you'll even meet someone."

"I'm not interested in dating at the moment."

"Who said anything about dating ?" Johnny laughs."How long has it been since you last got laid?"

"That is none of your business!" Thankful for the rain, Hendery pulls the umbrella lower to hide his red ears.

"It's been that long, huh?"

"Are we there yet?" Hendery mumbles, attempting to change the subject. Johnny simply chuckles. In reality, Hendery couldn't care less about the estimated time of arrival nor the party in its entirety—how Johnny ever got him convinced to go, will forever be a mystery.

But, maybe Johnny is right, going out for once isn't going to kill him—hopefully—and perhaps it is for the better, instead of getting drunk on cheap wine and self-pity, while watching La La Land with his best friend Yuqi for the millionth time.

They really should have watched Crazy Rich Asians instead. Jackson Wang, a well-known socialite in Shanghai, famous for his extravagant parties—and while each one is rumored to be bigger and even more wild than the last, it is also everything Hendery hates. But he does follow Johnny up the stairs and nervously gives his name to the scary, stone-faced security guards at the doors—doors twice the height of Hendery himself, with golden borders and door knobs shaped like lion heads.

"If we lose each other, give me a call. Unless you're getting laid. Call me in the morning then, I want to hear all the details." Johnny disappears about half a Dry Martini after saying those words, leaving Hendery to stand awkwardly by himself under a huge painting of two angels killing each other.

More than a year may have passed by, but Hendery has never stopped thinking about Yangyang, and tonight he misses him even more than ever before. The adorable gummy smile, the laughter that sounded like sunshine and the way Yangyang would play with the locks of Hendery's dark hair. But most of all Hendery misses the comfort and safety—the gentle tone of Yangyang's voice when he read his favorite books out loud, snuggled up next to Hendery in their bed. Those were the times in between their fights that made it all worth it—the things that were bigger than any of the lies Yangyang ever told him.

Lips at the edge of the thin glass, the taste is bitter and Hendery reluctantly swallows another sip, while his eyes search for nothing in particular. An ocean of suits and designer dresses—of superficial conversation and cocktails with names too hard to pronounce for a drunken tongue. Beautiful, slender women stand on pedestals around the room, painted and dressed to look like statues—it is both a fascinating and eerie sight—and men doing acrobatics and breathing fire. It cannot be safe, Hendery thinks to himself.

A heavy sigh comes from an even heavier heart. Loneliness sits like a tight knot in his stomach, even in a room filled with people—it has since the day Yangyang left. Hendery should have known better, all the way back when he and Yangyang first met. All of his friends warned him, but he didn't listen.

"That boy is nothing but trouble," his friend Kun told him, numerous times.

And Kun had been right, as always. Yangyang had wandering eyes, born with a heart too insatiable for one person to ever satisfy—and Hendery had emptied his own, in a failed attempt of filling it.

Instead he only got hurt as a thank you. He would wait until late into the night, while Yangyang was out getting wasted without him, and Hendery would scrunch up his nose at the heavy scent of a stranger lingering on Yangyang's skin when he returned home.

Yangyang moved on long before their last break up—and one year later, Hendery is hurting alone. In some kind of way, everything is exactly as it used to be, when they were still together.

As his hand sneaks into his pocket, fingers curling around his phone, Hendery is seconds away from texting Yuqi to tell her he'll stop by tonight anyway.

"Mr. Huang?"

It is a gentle voice, but an unfamiliar one as well—a careful tap on Hendery's shoulder.

"I- Yeah?" Confused, Hendery turns, only for his confusion to double. A stranger stands in front of him, looking at him as if they already know each other. As is he expecting something from Hendery.

And when their eyes meet, Hendery feels something he hasn't felt in a long time—not since he saw Yangyang for the first time. The knot in his stomach loosens, replaced by a fluttering feeling. Brown eyes under thick brows look back at him, curiously and intensely, and the stranger smiles. It is nothing like Yangyang's smile, but still it is something. Alluring.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Xiaojun," a sweet laughter blends into a soothing voice. "And I must say, I'm very impressed."

"I-I'm sorry? I don't quite follow?"

"Oh, don't be so modest, a guy like you must get compliments all the time," Xiaojun smiles. "You seem a little tense. Why don't we go dance? Loosen you up a little."

Dainty fingers stroke down the tie Johnny made Hendery wear; shivers tickling down his spine as it happens. Johnny. He must have been the one to set this up!

A gentle squeeze at his arm distracts him from his own thoughts; Hendery finds himself surprisingly interested, as his eyes follow how Xiaojun's hand slowly strokes downwards, until it finds Hendery's. A million thoughts but no time to protest, Hendery is dragged through the crowd and into the room next door where the music is louder and morality is left at the doorstep. Blinding neon lights, men dancing way too close with women way too young.

The lights change color, from blue to pink, washes over Xiaojun's golden blonde hair—it looks so pretty, like cotton candy as he turns to face Hendery again. The dark brows stand in stark contrast to his lighter hair, but they suit him. A lot. So does the all white outfit he is wearing, shirt unbuttoned just enough for any man or woman to go crazy, and layers of glistening necklaces hang around his neck.

But the most mesmerizing thing about him is the look in his eyes. His sharp but big eyes, framed by long lashes and glittery, dark eyeshadow. And as they dance, closer and closer, it is the first time in more than a year that Hendery doesn't think of Yangyang.

Xiaojun is enticing, he's beautiful and he moves effortlessly, like water.

Hendery on the other hand is moving awkwardly, feet planted solid against the floor and arms hanging limp down his sides.

"You can touch me, it's okay," Xiaojun whispers in Hendery's ear; his warm breath tickles. His words, just the same.

"I-I barely even know you," Hendery replies, intending to just lean in enough for Xiaojun to hear him, when a person bumps into him from behind.

Hendery stumbles forward, bumping directly into Xiaojun. Warm hands meet Hendery's chest, stopping him from falling over completely—but his heart might explode instead.

"Oh my God! I'm sorry, someone pushed me, are you okay?" he quickly says with a racing heart.

They are so close, too close. Close enough for Hendery to get swallowed by the brown eyes staring back at him.

"Yes, I am fine," Xiaojun smiles at him. His hands then slowly stroke upwards, past Hendery's shoulders until they find each other behind Hendery's neck. "Don't worry about it."

It has been a long time since Hendery felt anyone this close to him. An unfamiliar yet calming feeling. Trembling hands slowly rise to rest against Xiaojun's hips—although without holding them.

The music is loud, but his own heartbeat is even louder. And Xiaojun is so beautiful, so, so damn beautiful. Everything from the way he moves to the small mole on his forehead. But his eyes, oh, those eyes. And his lips, glistening and probably as soft as they look—had Hendery been anyone else crammed in that room, he would have kissed those lips.

If only Hendery could throw out the last pieces of his broken heart, change the need for love with the need for the simplicity of casual hook ups. Wild, vivid, ecstatic, but evanescent pleasure. If his lips could speak all the right words, sweetly and passionately, as if they actually meant something. But Hendery knows that much like the fluorescent neon lights washing over their skin, it would be exactly like that; artificial, and only a simple, yet blinding, imitation of the real thing.

And Hendery doesn't want that. He wants the real thing.

Everything becomes too real at this moment. Crashing down over him, suffocating him. He is alone at a party, dancing with a stranger, touching a stranger—albeit only barely—even going as far as thinking about kissing said stranger.

"I- I need to get some fresh air..." Hendery breaks away, breaks the illusion that he could have been anyone other than who he really is. That he wants anyone other than who he really wants.

"Are you okay?" But the concerned look in Xiaojun's eyes only makes everything even worse. Hendery has to look away.

"I... I don't know... I'm sorry," he says, gasping for air, pulling at his shirt. He spins around, once, twice—confused, lost .

"Don't apologize, let's find a quiet place, okay?"

Hendery nods and lets Xiaojun lead him out of the room again. Everything is spinning, faces seem distorted—voices too. Hendery only had one drink, he isn't drunk, he is overwhelmed. The knot in his stomach is back, stronger this time.

Fresh air finally fills his lungs, a deep inhalation as Xiaojun guides him through a backdoor and outside. Two girls, one with straight hair and bangs and another with wavy brown locks, stand outside smoking cigarettes in their high heels and short dresses.

"Oh my God, hey," the girl with the bangs seems excited as she sees Dejun, like they know each other.

"Leave." The tone in his voice surprises Hendery, who is still walking behind him like a lost child. Cold. Scary, almost.

A quick look, darting between Xiaojun and Hendery, the girl with the bangs gestures for her friend to follow her inside.

"Just breathe." The soft voice is back, Xiaojun carefully helps Hendery lean against the wall of the building.

"Sorry, this is embarrassing," Hendery mumbles. His vision is clearing up, his mind as well—but the last party might be for the worse. "This probably wasn't what you expected."

Xiaojun must feel so disappointed, even without knowing what Johnny has told him, Hendery is certain it wasn't anything like this .

"You're right," Xiaojun says with a chuckle. "You're nothing like I expected. You're much better."

As their eyes meet it feels like they never stopped looking at each other, and Hendery knows that the word expectation is what will ruin everything that never was. The idea of dating someone new, even hooking up with someone, has been as far from Hendery's mind, as Yangyang from his arms.

"Listen, I-I don't know what Johnny told you, but-"

"Johnny?" Thick brows knit together, Xiaojun tilts his head slightly, and his sudden confusion spreads to Hendery's mind as well.

It doesn't last long though, not long enough for Hendery to question it with words, when Xiaojun's phone suddenly starts ringing.

"Sorry, I need to take this," he says, fishing the phone from his back pocket. "Ten? ...What? What do you mean where am I? Mr. Huang? I'm with him now, wha-... What ? Yes. I'll... I'll be right there, give him my deepest apologies. Bye."

A scoff leave pretty lips, Xiaojun shoves the phone back into his pocket as he turns to face Hendery

"You told me you were Mr. Huang?"

"I- Yeah, I mean, you asked me if my last name is Huang? And it is? I know it's a common last name, but, I-I didn't know you weren't looking for me..."

"But you were standing under the big pai- You know what, never mind. It was my mistake, I apologize. I have to go."

The warmth of Xiaojun next to him disappears and Hendery feels a flip in his stomach. Strange. The door creaks when it's opened, and light and noise stream out into the night.

"Xiaojun." Hendery's voice speaks without his mind allowing it to, but still, it tells no lies. "It... It was, I mean, regardless of whatever just happened, it was nice to meet you."

Xiaojun just looks at him. The dark eyes seem so hard to read, but at the same time like they're everything Hendery has ever known. His fingers tap against the door, hesitant, almost, "likewise," he then says. 

And when the door closes, Hendery feels strangely disappointed.

One and a half week later, on an ordinary Wednesday evening, the rain finally stopped. The Rainy Season is over and all that is left is the dreadful heat of mid-July.

Scrolling through his phone, Hendery waits for Yuqi to join him for dinner and some catching up, when a text pops up—informing him she's running late. Under any other circumstance it would have been just fine, but when Hendery raises his head and looks up, the evening turns into anything but ordinary.

One year, three months and fifteen days with no contact, with secret tears falling during lonely nights—and days pretending that everything is okay. It all comes crashing together, as Hendery squeezes the phone in his hand that shakes more and more by the second. Lungs crumbling and heart racing, he blankly stares at the couple entering the restaurant.

Hand in hand. Yangyang, with his tall, brick-like boyfriend.

One year, three months and fifteen days, but Hendery is very well aware of what his ex has been up to, sparing no time stalking him online late at night. Through tearful eyes he had already seen the endless photos of his newest replacement—that broad shouldered, 6 ft., Korean Calvin Klein underwear model Yangyang started seeing a few months back.

Kim Mingyu.

Well, underwear model turned actor—or kind of. Coming from overseas to film his first movie. Not a particularly good one, the actor nor the movie, from the few clips leaked online, but maybe Hendery is just too biased to be a fair judge.

"Hendery?"

He looks just as surprised, Yangyang, when their eyes meet, about to pass by the table Hendery sits at. Painfully alone. Stay calm , he tells himself, as he forces a strain smile over his lips.

"Yangyang..." It hurts all over again, speaking his name. It hurts, in ways Hendery hoped would have been gone by now. But it is still the same, it still feels the same when looking into Yangyang's eyes. "It's been a while..."

"Yeah," Yangyang simply replies, tugging Mingyu's hand to pull him closer. "This is Mingyu by the way."

There is no doubt about it, Hendery sees it in his eyes; Yangyang doesn't feel the same. Yangyang hasn't spent one single moment regretting their breakup.

"Are you here alone?"

Perhaps it's only Hendery's imagination playing tricks on him, but he's certain he hears a hint of gloating in Yangyang's otherwise gentle voice, as he glances at the empty spot by the table.

"No." And although Hendery isn't lying, his desperation soon makes him do so. "I'm waiting for my date."

Why? Why, why, why ?

Now, Hendery can only hope for Yuqi to be delayed long enough, for her not to show up and bust his lie—if Hendery can simply keep up the fake scenario he just created, until he can leave the restaurant and text her to meet him somewhere else.

Why? Why did he have to lie? Hendery swallows, hard, because he does know why. The look on Yangyang's face, the way he tightly holds onto Mingyu's hand with so much pride has Hendery's stomach turn in anger.

"Oh," Yangyang smacks his lips, "is that so?"

The way his eyes narrow down says it all; he doesn't believe it, and Hendery hates how much of an impact Yangyang still has on him. The weak attempt of faking a nonchalant facade crumbles under Yangyang's stare.

Sweat gathers at his neck and clammy hands clench under the table. Hendery needs a miracle, just a small one—for the love of God, please, just one.

And so, for the first time, since Yangyang kissed him under the lamp posts at night, Hendery feels a stroke of luck.

Golden blonde hair looks so soft in subtle waves and dark brows that slightly pull together. Xiaojun. Standing by the door, reading the menu card while waiting to be seated. There is only one thought in Hendery's mind; only one solution. It is dumb and it is most likely to fail—but it is the only chance he's got.  

"Yes, and oh, there he is! Hey, Xiaojun! I'm over here!" An arm raised above his head, Hendery waves his hand as he gets up. Xiaojun looks up from the menu card, confused and searching the room for whoever is calling him.

Hasty steps, the distance between them closes as fast as Hendery's heart is racing.

"Hi. You probably don't remember me, but we met at a party not long ago. M-my name is Hendery. Anyway, please, I need your help. It'll only take two minutes. Just... Please pretend that you're my date. Please, I'm desperate."

With a trembling hand, he gestures towards the place Hendery would have loved never returning to again himself. Heart in his throat, holding his breath, time stands still. Then, miraculously and against all odds, without saying a word, Xiaojun nods.

Dumbfounded, Hendery suddenly finds himself walking behind Xiaojun, back to Mingyu and Yangyang—where the latter is watching them like a hawk.

"So, this is your date ?" And Yangyang doesn't even try hiding his suspicion, it is written all over his face, painted with thick strokes—underlined with the scoffing exhalation from his lips.

"I-... Yeah."

Yangyang's eyes squint down, clearly he isn't buying Hendery's story. Lying was stupid to begin with; Yangyang has always been able to see right through him.

But then, he feels an arm link together with his own, gently pulling him closer and a warmth he shouldn't feel so familiar with is pressed against his side.

Leaning forward, a polite bow—an even politer smile.

"Hi, I'm Xiaojun. Hendery's boyfriend."