𝗪𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗 ♡ Victon Imagines

CHAN • Halfway

Halfway

• fluff
• light angst
• fake!dating
• friends to lovers
• 11.4k words

∞

Chan trudged into the apartment like gravity was set to max. His backpack hit the floor with a heavy thud, dragging half his soul with it. He was still in his hoodie from his last class of a two-hour crawl through media theory that had fried his brain and his will to live. On top of that, one of his groupmates had ghosted him, again, leaving him to pitch their part of the presentation alone.

He didn't even make it to the fridge before his roommate called out, "Yo. You got a letter."

Chan blinked, paused mid-step. "A what?"

Ten didn't look up from his game, slouched on the couch with a bowl of cereal balanced dangerously on one knee. "Envelope. Fancy looking one. Looks like it came from a wedding catalog."

Chan walked over, dragging his feet. The envelope was perched neatly on the kitchen counter, a pale ivory rectangle practically glowing under the shitty overhead light. His name was written in elegant cursive. 

"Your mom's handwriting, right?" Ten said, chewing. "It's got that 'please RSVP or she'll cry' vibe."

Chan didn't bother to answer.

Four days have passed. It had been sitting here for four days and he'd avoided it like a bill he didn't want to open. But bills didn't come in envelopes this grand, soft and intentional.

He already knew but he opened it anyway. Inside was a card with a thick and expensive feel. No frills. But with a single, centered message in serif font, framed with tasteful gold trim:

You are cordially invited to the engagement party of Chanhyuck Heo & Alice Nam.

Chan let out a sound that was part scoff, part breathless laugh. It scraped the back of his throat.

Ten finally paused his game. "Wait, hold up. Chanhyuck and Alice? As in..."

Chan didn't look up. "Yeah. My brother. And my ex."

"Shit."

"Yup."

He lowered himself onto a stool. His chest felt hollow, too big and too tight at the same time. He hadn't heard from Alice in almost a year. Hadn't seen her name in his texts, avoided her Instagram, and unfollowed everything mutual. He tried to erase her existence in his life. He'd thought distance would eventually make it sting less.

Apparently not.

"You going?" Ten asked after a beat.

Chan didn't answer right away. But to Ten, Chan's silence was enough to answer it.

"I mean, you don't have to," Ten offered. "Tell your mom you're sick. Tell her you have finals. Tell her the train exploded. I can help you."

Chan let the card fall onto the table. "She'll guilt-trip me until I'm seventy-five."

Ten winced. "Right. Asian mom."