Stray Kids Imagines | bang chan

Someday, Paris, Pt. I | ANGST

Word Count: 1.2k

Right person, wrong time. That's what they say.

Others claim that if the person actually was the right one, there wouldn't be a wrong time. But oh, you begged to differ as you sat at a coffee shop table, avoiding the gaze of the boy who mirrored you. He looked exhausted and tense; it was unnatural from his usual cheery demeanor. You hadn't slept well lately either; it wasn't easy knowing that someone you loved so deeply was engaged to another.

It was a business proposition; Chris was supposed to wed the daughter of some powerful CEO. That, or he resign from his own CEO position that he'd inherited from his late father. It was the doubt from the company that arose around Chris and his modern views to reform the business that forced his hand to agree. His father's old rival had walked in with a smug expression one day, knowing that the boy's back was against the wall and a simple complaint could have him removed from office. Thus, the offer was made: marry his father's old rival's daughter (who was beautiful in her own way and merely two years younger, but he did not love her) and a contract would be made between the two companies that allowed both to prosper. The reforms Chris made would be begrudgingly approved and enacted immediately under his supervision. It was supposed to be a win-win, as the marriage would solidify his position in the company, along with the strong and secure partnership.

But it was anything but a win for Chris.

He was frustrated; mostly with himself. How could he allow that man to force him into such a position? Why could he not have done a better job pursuading the board to approve his proposals? He should have worked harder to convince them. He should have stood his ground and worked overtime to prove his worth and commitment to the company. He should have reminded them that his father would not have stood to be questioned about his business decisions, and nor would Chris.

He was a coward. At twenty-two years old, fresh out of university with the world at his fingertips, unable to assert himself in the position his father had passed down to him. What a disappointment.

"Have you found a suit?" you found yourself asking, breaking the silence that hung delicately in the air. It wasn't out of bitterness, though; you were heartbroken and hollow, but also curious. You focused on the zipper of his jacket, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Chris nodded. "Classic black and white," he responded with a shrug.

"Ah." You couldn't help but recall the Pinterest board you'd made of your dream wedding a year ago. Chris accidentally caught a glimpse of it one day, and proceeded to suggest a few additions of his own; one of which was an all-black suit. He claimed that it would look more sleek and elegant. You fell for him more that day, if that was even possible.

"No all-black?"

His eyes met yours for a moment, and you knew that he knew what you were thinking. Of course he did, and of course you were; you hadn't forgotten.

"I suppose not," he said dryly, the ghost of a pained smile playing on his lips.

You twisted your hands together in your lap. There was no easy way to do this; there was never an easy way to accept the break-up of a man you still loved dearly, especially if the man himself hadn't fallen out of love either. Fate was cruel.

"I love you," Chris said suddenly, his voice soft. "Always."

You smiled sadly at him. "I love you too. Always."

As much as it would pain the two of you, it was decided privately that it would best if you limited contact between yourselves. Chris would be quite the busy man with his marriage and business; there was no use in staying in touch with his former girlfriend. It would only serve as a reminder of the love he had been forced to leave and fuel the underlying bitterness in his soul. He hated the plan as much as you did, but there was no denying that any attempts to pretend as though everything was normal would only result in chaos and further heartbreak. Not to mention how enraged his father's former rival would be if anyone were to catch his business partner, married to his daughter, with another woman.

It was worse as Chris was one of your best friends; he was one long before the two of you dated. You loved his character as a friend, and that love only deepened when everything turned romantic. In the blink of an eye as a document was signed and hands were shaken, you had lost your best friend and the love of your life. Not only that, Chris had been in your life for six years now; since you were both sixteen, and now he was simply walking out of your life.

There were so many unresolved thoughts and feelings, now forever left unsaid. The future plans you had dreamed of together, forgotten and lost in the past.

"Remember how we said that when we're twenty-five, we would go live in France for a year?" you asked quietly.

Chris's eyes seemed to light up at the memory in fondness. "Try every sort of bread available."

"And the cheeses too," you added.

"Of course," he amended, amused.

"What a fantasy to live out," you sighed. "Paris sounds quite beautiful. Like a fairy-tale."

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Suddenly, Chris's phone rang from his pocket. He glanced at you apologetically as he pulled it out to answer.

"Hello? Oh. Yes. I know. I'll be there in ten. Goodbye."

"Work?" you guessed.

He nodded, sighing. "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's not your fault."

Silence.

"Thank you. For meeting me here. I'm glad I got to see you." One last time.

"Me too. I wish you the best, Chris."

No words could ever be the right ones that would allow for proper closure.

You smiled tightly at him as he stood. Tears didn't threaten to form; you felt hollow inside, unable to find it in yourself to cry. Chris was handsome. So well-meaning and kind-hearted. He would be an excellent businessman, no doubt about it.

You stood as well and found yourself pulled into a hug by Chris. His scent was familiar and reassuring. His arms wrapped tightly around you, so much so that you were afraid he would never let go.

"Someday... Paris. We'll find each other again," he whispered in your ear.

You couldn't find a response, so you merely hugged him back fiercely, doing your best to maintain your composure while committing the moment to memory.

When he finally pulled away after a minute, Chris's eyes were glassy. He managed a smile; the loving, sweet smile that you adored. You smiled back, without bitterness and only love. Just love for him.

And then he turned and left. He didn't look over his shoulder; Chris feared that if he were to, he wouldn't be able to turn away. He would have allowed the bitterness and frustration of the situation, along with his adoration for you, to overtake his common sense. He would have stormed into the building and ripped the contract to shreds. But he didn't.

"Someday," you mused quietly, "Paris."