he can't honestly say he's surprised to see her when he shows up to someone's excuse to get drunk they're calling a birthday celebration. years of sharing their lives had been enough to place at least a few friends and acquaintances as a fraying bridge over the crack in the rock they had once been . it'd been an easy enough inevitability to avoid when they'd both been far away from seoul, but with him back from tour and suji also in the city, or so he hears every mouth but from her own, it had only been a matter of time.
he's imagined what it might be like when the inevitable happens, almost always when he's a minimum of four shots down and shameless enough to think it might be as simple a conversation as telling her he's sorry and he still loves her. there aren't enough shots in his system for him to be that delusional yet tonight. he knows the pain he'd caused her, wishes he hadn't had to, and doesn't expect her to forgive him for it.
still — he misses her so badly that his insides ache with their own emptiness and the weight of worry that's been hanging over him the past months has pressed its full weight onto him. being in the same room as her and only being able to look from a distance is like being thrown into the vacuum of space, air sucked from his lungs and the only source of oxygen slipping farther away by the moment. this is the only chance he's had in what feels like ages to look into the eyes of the person who could still squeeze his heart dry of every drop of blood it houses with one twitch of her fingers, so what choice does he have but to talk to her? it's selfish, sure, but he's never claimed himself not to be.
he knows a venture too deep into his own thoughts will only set off a downward spiral and his rather late arrival to the party leaves him unsure of how much longer he'll even have the opportunity, so he pushes forward through the crowd in her direction before he can even prepare what he's going to say.
"hey." what feels like an exclamation escapes his lips in a near-whisper as he comes to a halt behind her. he knows better than to fall prey to the natural urge to reach out and touch her shoulder or her hand or the small of her back to silently alert her to his presence as he might have in a crowded room a year ago. instead, his eyes plead with the back of her head to turn around.
suddenly, he becomes starkly away of the blankness of his mind and the system breakdown that comes with over-fantasizing and under-planning. "hey," he repeats even more softly, not for her benefit but for his own seeming inability to recall anything else to say. it's so good to see you. are you doing okay? god, i've missed you so much. none of the options that eventually do begin to trickle into his mind seem fitting for their situation, so he settles for the first one that's somewhat reasonable. "can i... can we talk?"
