[PG-13] the sun burns out, but the show must go on
Title: the sun burns out, but the show must go on
Characters: Sungmin, Yesung, Zhou Mi
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, Life, Friendship, Romance
Summary: AU. Where Sungmin searches for love.
Warning: Character death
A/N: This is...I don't even know what this is. It evolved into something completely different than what I had originally planned. I think it worked out, though. I hope. This was originally supposed to be a MiMin fic and then it just turned into a more YeMin one. Surprise surprise, no Kyuhyun lurking anywhere. LOL. Anyway, this can be taken as a companion piece for never believe, it's not so and the sound of rain echoes, kind of like a prequel. Comment are very much welcome. :)
the sun burns out, but the show must go on
I do not know how it ends.
Just that I miss you, right before it does.
- I Wrote This For You
Started: 6/12/11
End: 7/6/11
He blinked as he felt his eyes becoming awash with certain wetness.
Fashion shows always brought tears to his eyes, not because they were beautiful (although they really were), but because it always overwhelmed him with memories. And the what ifs, should haves, could haves always came tumbling right after them.
He wished he wasn’t the type who remembered everything.
It’s only been a month, he told himself, as if assuring himself that what he was feeling was perfectly normal, perfectly okay.
But, at the same time, he just wants to stop feeling, anything if it was possible.
Because, really, he didn’t know how he was ever going to feel that way again.
---
---
---
“This looks good on me, right?”
Yesung looked up from the fashion magazine he was going through, bored, as he sat on the soft, pristinely white designer couch in the middle of exclusive men’s section of one of the more high-end malls in the city. “Yes,” he answered in an uninterested tone.
Sungmin held out the barely pink-almost white long-sleeved polo shirt in front of him and studied it then studied himself on the floor-length mirror in front of him. He slightly titled his head to one side as if deciding. “You can at least be more enthusiastic about giving me a compliment,” he responded indifferently.
“I wasn’t giving you a compliment so there’s no need to be enthusiastic about anything,” Yesung retorted, rolling his eyes. “Besides, you already know that anything looks good on you. Why ask?”
“It’s still nice to hear it sometimes,” Sungmin admitted quietly. “It’s kind of like, I know how you love me and how I love you, but we still say it sometimes right? Because we need to hear it.”
“The truth doesn’t need words most of the time,” Yesung reminded him, quietly letting out a breath.
“Aha! Now that’s a compliment,” Sungmin exclaimed, turning around to face him, a big teasing grin on his face. He returned the polo shirt on the rack beside him and went through the other clothes on it. “Although…” he began again, a thoughtful look on his face. “How would you know that it’s the truth when you don’t confirm it with words?”
Yesung shrugged. “Words are deceiving, too. How do you know that you’re actually confirming a truth and not a lie?”
“You’re too pessimistic, Yesung,” Sungmin regarded him playfully.
Yesung looked at him for a moment. “And you’re a hopeless romantic.”
“I love you,” Sungmin teased. Then he ducked as a fashion magazine flew over his head.
---
(Sungmin stood back and looked on proudly at his work of art. He had built a castle made of sand.
For the first time in his young life, at eight years old, he was at the beach, building the castle he had always dreamt of building. He smiled as he made adjustments here and there, proud that he had done what he had always wanted to do.
He stood up and ran back to where his parents were sunbathing. He wanted to show them his sandcastle, yes, because it was so amazing and not, in the slightest, an easy feat.
When he ran back, his mommy in tow, his eyes widened, finding his beautiful hard work swept away by the waves of the sea.
He cried, no matter how much his mommy consoled him, told him that he could just rebuild another castle, an even better one.
“It’s not going to rebuild itself no matter how long you cry,” a voice beside him suddenly spoke.
Sungmin looked up, his tears momentarily forgotten, as a boy around his age stood beside him, watching as the waves continued to eradicate his sandcastle. Slightly taller than him, he was thin, fair, with a mop of dark hair on his head.
Tilting his head slightly, Sungmin asked, “Do you want to build a new one with me?”
The boy agreed. And, soon, they had built an even bigger castle, with more turrets and windows and grandeur than Sungmin alone couldn’t have done. He smiled at his new friend, rather pleased at the turnout.
“You’re welcome,” the boy said even without Sungmin’s word of thanks. He paused for a couple of seconds as he looked at Sungmin. “Do you want to come with me to see the circus tomorrow? They’re here for a week.”
“I don’t even know your name,” Sungmin pointed out with a frown. “I’m not really supposed to talk to strangers.”
“My name is Yesung,” the boy finally answered, a small smile on his face. “Now we’re not strangers.”)
---
“The fashion industry is a pretentious industry.”
Sungmin didn’t say anything abusive in retort to that blasphemous statement. Instead, his hand slipped and almost ripped the dress he was sewing for refitting purposes. He restored the dress back to the rack before he could do any more damage to it and turned around to face the girl he suddenly wanted to strangle if only he didn’t adore her.
“Can I help you with something, Sooyoung?” he asked, plastering a smile on his face.
The incredulously tall girl with legs that went on for miles pushed herself off of the doorway she was leaning against. “They told me I was fat,” Sooyoung complained, ungracefully planting herself on the sofa across from him.
The brows on his face furrowed. “Who told you that you were fat?”
“I’d rather not name names so as not to incriminate any of your designer friends,” Sooyoung started.
“You’re not fat,” he told her with all sincerity.
“Right,” she commented, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Still I can’t model looking the way I do, apparently. Do they want skeletons walking their clothes?”
“Do you see skeletons walking the clothes?” he threw the question back at her. When she didn’t say anything, because voicing out the answer to that question would have been completely pointless, he gave her a resigned smile. “You’re beautiful, Sooyoung. If you think this industry is trying to change who you are, then maybe it’s time to find a new dream.”
She frowned, but there was a twinkle in her eyes as she looked at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging me to do as they say, lose some weight? I mean, you tell your models the same thing.”
“I don’t want you to have to give anything up,” he insisted softly, reaching out to pull her to him.
He knew how harsh the fashion industry was. It wasn’t kind to him when he was a newbie. Sometimes, it still wasn’t kind to him. Aside from the unkindness and hostility that made one want to watch their backs, there were a lot of things he had to sacrifice. He was sure that he didn’t want Sooyoung, whom he treated like family, to experience that.
“But I really want to do this,” she told him firmly, albeit quietly. “You know I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” he echoed, patting her head gently. “And you will. You will become a model. You’ll walk for my show next month.”
Sooyoung peered up at him, a wide smile on her face.
He forced himself to smile back. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was right about the fashion industry. He didn’t have the heart to disappoint her.
---
(Yesung’s lip was bleeding. Sungmin bit his own as his best friend howled in pain as he dabbed cotton with alcohol on it.
“Just a bit more,” Sungmin apologized.
“I hate him,” Yesung growled, his eyes flashing in anger.
“No you don’t,” Sungmin countered gently. “He’s your dad.”
“I wish I can just pack up and run away, leave this hell-hole,” Yesung continued, ignoring what his best friend said.
“And leave me behind?” Sungmin asked innocently. Yesung’s mom had died when they were 10 years old.
“Of course not leave you behind,” Yesung retorted, rolling his eyes. Sometimes, he thought Sungmin was so dramatic about their friendship. But it made him secretly glad. It was important to him that he valued their friendship just as much as he did.
“Then where would we go?” Sungmin wanted to know, his eyes crinkling in excitement.
“Joining the circus is a good idea, don’t you think?” Yesung teased.
Sungmin rolled his eyes. “At 21 years old, you still think that.”
“What about modeling then?” Yesung suddenly quipped, more quietly than before.
Sungmin blinked. On one of their night outs in Seoul, after a long day of lectures, a manager at some modeling agency scouted Yesung. He mentioned liking his looks and his style and that he should come to the office to check it out.
“It’s a lot less crazy than the circus, right?” Yesung asked as if looking for some sort of approval.
Which Sungmin gave to him indirectly. “A lot less crazy than the circus,” he repeated softly.)
---
Sungmin staggered under Yesung’s weight. He fumbled with his keys, jabbed it into the keyhole and hauled both of them into his apartment.
He threw the keys on the table as he lowered his best friend onto the couch. Yesung immediately slid sideways, his cheek ending up resting on one of the throw pillows.
“This is the fifth time that I’m covering for you, Yesung,” Sungmin began, despite Yesung not being in the condition to be lectured on. “When are you going to stop drinking yourself to death?”
“Let me sleep, Min,” Yesung mumbled, keeping his eyes closed. “Tomorrow, let’s talk about this tomorrow.”
The next morning, Yesung was gone when Sungmin woke up.
They never did get around to talking about it.
---
“Sooyoung,” Yesung called out almost exasperatedly.
Sooyoung froze in her steps on the makeshift runway. “What?” she asked.
“You look excited,” he commented, eyebrows raised in amusement.
Sungmin, who was working on some designs on his worktable, overheard this and chuckled. “Of course she’s excited,” he stated. “It’s her first show.”
“Am I not supposed to look excited?” she carefully asked, although she thought she already knew the answer.
“Have you seen models who actually smile on the runway?” Yesung pointed out.
“Yes, there’s-,” Sooyoung started to say.
“They’ve earned that right,” Yesung interrupted, knowing that she was going to enumerate some names. She opened her mouth to say something, probably to apologize but he cut her off. “No one gets to smile on their first show. It’s almost somewhat symbolic when you think about it. The first few years are always going to be the hardest. There will be times; actually, it will be all the time, where you won’t find anything to smile about. It’s tough out there and if you think you can skip through all those just because-.”
Sungmin cleared his throat, his eyes still trained on the design sheets in front of him. Yesung faltered on his speech, glanced at Sungmin, who didn’t meet his eyes, and then looked at Sooyoung once more. Her eyes were awash with unshed tears. She was biting her lip so as not to let them fall on her cheeks. Without another word, Yesung walked out.
Once the door slammed shut, Sooyoung crouched down on the runway and buried her face in her hands. Sungmin sighed and put his pen down to go over to her.
“He doesn’t mean it,” was the first thing he said.
“Don’t,” she entreated. “You’re always covering for him.”
A number of incidents flashed across his mind, wherein he had to cover for Yesung; going to shoots drunk, missing meetings because of oversleeping, being rude to staff and other models, and just being downright impossible to work with.
“He’s my best friend,” he told her with a shrug. “I’m always going to cover for him.”
“He’s awful,” she whispered, wiping her cheeks of tears. “I’m glad you’re not like him. I hope you don’t get to be like him.”
“He’s been doing this far longer than I have been,” he shared vaguely. “Someone had to go first.”
---
(“This is it, Sungmin,” Yesung told him excitedly. His eyes almost disappeared because of the huge smile he had on his face. He gripped the sheet in his hands, almost crumpling it.
“This is it, Yesung,” Sungmin agreed, grinning. He lightly pushed him to the door. “Go knock them dead.”
Yesung beamed at him. “If worse comes to worst, we can still run away with the circus, right?”
Sungmin gave him a wistful smile as memories of their young and naive selves being amazed and enchanted by the beauty of the circus flashed right before his eyes. They really had wanted to run away with the circus then.
“Of course,” Sungmin promised. “You and I will always have that as our back-up plan.”
After a one-armed hug, Yesung walked through the door and into the go see.
They never did need to run away with the circus.)
---
Yesung leaned his head back on the chair as the make-up artist finished up with painting gunk on his face. He tried to relax himself by closing his eyes and sitting still. Even after years of modeling, he still felt nervous before walking down the runway.
When he felt his hair being ruffled in a familiar way, he opened his eyes. Then he quirked an eyebrow up.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, almost demandingly, looking amused. “From what I remember, this isn’t your show.”
“You’re a mess,” Sungmin muttered. In a smooth and discreet move, he had handed Yesung a small hip flask.
“I thought you were against my drinking,” Yesung commented, unscrewing it and taking a gulp.
“I’m only against it when you fall flat on your face and I have to be the one to look after you, embarrassing yourself and me as well,” Sungmin shared, grabbing the hip flask before he could finish the whole thing.
Yesung’s lips curved up a bit, a smirk slowly forming on his face. “You know you like looking after me,” he stated knowingly.
Sungmin just looked at him. “And you like taking advantage of that, don’t you?”
---
(“I think you just might be my best friend in the world,” Yesung told him after being delighted by a circus show, where a man managed not to get eaten by the lion he was taming.
Throughout the show, despite having watched countless numbers of such, he still felt tense, gripping Sungmin’s hand to ease the nervousness away.
Sungmin beamed at this. At 17, they had grown up together and had forever been attached to the hip. It was a time where they were contemplating which university to go to in Seoul, which was a city that was non-negotiable. It was either Seoul or nothing. And they wanted to be together still.
“Do you think we’ll always be together?” Sungmin asked.
Yesung reached out to ruffle Sungmin’s hair. “Of course,” he responded firmly. “We’ll always be best friends, nothing more and nothing less.”
Sungmin didn’t know why, but he felt a lot less happy when he heard that.)
---
The incredibly knocking-pounding-on the door woke him up with him crashing to the floor beside his bed. He ground as he sat up and the door pounding continued.
“Are you up yet?” Yesung asked as soon as the door swung open so wildly that he thought it was going to get pulled off from its hinges.
“What do you want?” Sungmin practically growled as they walked back into the apartment, closing the door behind them.
“Why are you so grumpy this early in the day?” Yesung demanded, making a face.
“I’m grumpy because it is early in the day,” Sungmin grumbled, plopping down on the sofa and closing his eyes. He had come in late from a go-see the previous evening. “Well…?” he asked when Yesung didn’t say anything. He found his best friend just standing there, looking at him with a smile on his face.
“It’s my day off and I was thinking of going out,” Yesung finally spoke, quirking an eyebrow up. “So get your butt off the couch and get dressed.”
Sungmin blinked up at him, the sleepiness gone. “You want to go out with me?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to,” Yesung replied, rolling his eyes.
Sungmin shrugged and got off the couch to go to his bedroom to change. “All your model friends must be really busy,” he remarked.
---
(“I can’t believe you forgot,” Sungmin said bitterly. He watched, a big frown on his face, as Yesung ran a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t mean to,” Yesung insisted, turning to face him. “I was just busy with-.”
“You’re always busy these days,” Sungmin reproached. “We never go out to dinners anymore, never have our movie marathons, never go out of town.”
“I’m busy, Sungmin,” Yesung emphasized, feeling frustrated. “It’s not like I have a lot of free time walking at least a dozen shows a month. And it’s not like that’s all I do.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Sungmin agreed too quickly. “You go to parties to get drunk and get high and-.”
“You go to those parties as well,” Yesung reminded him immediately. “I’m not the only one who gets drunk and gets high.”
Sungmin vigorously shook his head. “No. No one gets drunk and does drugs like you do. I thought you would’ve known that by now.”
“Look,” Yesung snapped. “I said I was sorry, okay. I didn’t mean to forget our dinner last night. You could’ve asked someone else to come. I don’t really know why it always has to be me.”
“You’re my best friend, Yesung!” Sungmin exclaimed, surprised at his words. “Of course it always has to be you.”
“Then I think it’s high time you know then that you’re not my only friend, Sungmin,” Yesung replied acerbically.)
---
Sungmin sighed as Yesung blatantly forgot another one of their movie dates. He watched as he left with a crowd of rowdy models. He really shouldn’t have expected him to remember, even when he promised he was going to remember more.
Packing his stuff in his bag, he checked his reflection out in the mirror. The lines on his face were getting deeper. Not of old age. Of despair and rejection.
Suddenly, he caught another reflection on the mirror. One of whom he didn’t know.
“Hey,” Sungmin greeted nicely, turning around.
“Hi,” the person choked back a reply.
Sungmin tilted his head a bit as he studied him. He was tall-really tall-with legs that went on forever, very slim, had a pointy but beautiful face, dark brown hair, and red lips.
“You’re Zhou Mi,” Sungmin stated knowingly after a moment.
“You know me,” Zhou Mi blurted out, clearly surprised.
“Of course I know you,” Sungmin responded with a small smile. “You’re one of the newer models. I’ve seen your portfolio. Not much of a portfolio, but I’m sure you’ll have more photos in time.”
“I’m not a model,” Zhou Mi hastily corrected. Sungmin gave him a curious and confused look. “Well, I am,” he amended. “But I’m also a stylist, a designer.”
“You are?” Sungmin asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” Zhou Mi confirmed, almost insistently. “I decided to model because, maybe, I could get more inspiration with my designing through modeling.”
“Mmm, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment,” Sungmin muttered, but Zhou Mi clearly heard him. “There’s no inspiration here.”
---
(“You’re so cheesy,” Yesung commented as he watched Sungmin draw an extravagant couture gown, his chin propped on his hand. “And dramatic,” he added. “Who’s going to wear that?”
“Angelina Jolie? Kate Hudson? Katy Perry?” Sungmin enumerated without hesitation.
“They’re all married,” Yesung sniggered. Sungmin opened his mouth to protest, but Yesung interrupted him before he could say anything. “And don’t deny it, this gown could only be fit for weddings. No one’s going to wear this to an awards ceremony. Except maybe Lady Gaga.”
“I was just going to say that Angelina Jolie isn’t married,” Sungmin corrected, making a face at him. He suddenly put his pencil down and glared at his best friend. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have some sort of rehearsal or something?”
“It’s so nice to know how much you appreciate my company,” Yesung sarcastically commented. “I’m just kidding,” he continued before Sungmin could respond with something that was just going to make them argue. He knew how sensitive Sungmin was about spending time together.
“Just…stand there for me, will you?” Sungmin finally said, pointing at the end of the runway.
“…okay?” Yesung replied, doing as he was told. “And…am I just supposed to stand here while you draw the world away?” Sungmin practically forgot the world once he started drawing designs.
“I’m only able to draw the world away because of you, you know,” Sungmin told him certainly.
Yesung snorted at this and stepped down from the runway. “I’m not going to stay for this,” he stated, shaking his head. “Call me when you’re done being weird.”
Sungmin stared at his back as he walked away.)
---
“Sungmin,” one of his staff called to him, eyes wide, panting and panicked. “We-we need your help with something.”
“What is it?” Sungmin calmly asked after a second once he’d taken in the condition of this particular staff member. He carefully pinned the side of the dress of one of the models.
“It’s Sooyoung,” the staff cried out. “We-she’s…not herself.”
Sungmin gave the staff member a nod, which sent her scampering away. He then smiled at the model he was attending to. “I’ll be right back,” he assured her.
He found Sooyoung, in her private dressing room, drunk out of her mind. She was already wearing the first set of clothes she was going to walk in. But her long hair was in disarray. It was obvious that she didn’t want anyone touching it.
“Sooyoung, what is it this time?” Sungmin coolly pressed, taking a seat on an empty chair. By that time, he was used to Sooyoung’s drinking and tantrums. He was so used to it that he had stopped getting angry with her for being so stupid. Just like Yesung.
“Don’t you get tired of all of this, Sungmin?” Sooyoung slurred, gesturing excessively around the room.
“Is that why you’re drinking today? Because you’re tired?” he inquired.
“No,” she quipped, putting a finger to her lips. “I drink because I think it’s the only way you would pay attention to me.”
He sighed and stood up. “You’re not walking today,” he declared, turning to leave the room.
“You can ignore me and deny it all you want,” she called a bit too loudly. “You know it’s true.”
“Stop this,” he said, facing her once more. He was surprised to find that she had stood up and was right in front of him. “You’re drunk,” he reminded her.
“Why is it that when it’s Yesung, you always make allowances, always turn a blind eye, always give in?” she asked, almost pleadingly. “You never ignore him, never turn your back on him. You never tell him that he can’t walk a show.”
“Sooyoung,” he hesitated. What could he say, really? Everything she said was true. All facts.
“I wonder how long you can keep this up,” she went on, smiling almost wickedly. “He doesn’t see you, you know. I don’t think he ever will.”
Sungmin turned on his heel, deciding to take the high road, and walked away.
“Everyone breaks promises,” Sungmin told Zhou Mi one day. He shook his head. “No, everyone just breaks. At one point or another, people break and they’re never the same. And people who know them knows that they’re not the same, even if they put on big, bright smiles.”
“Maybe…you’re over thinking it?” Zhou Mi suggested warily.
“Sooyoung hated Yesung with a passion because he was mean and drank all the time and acted like he was all that, even though he really is,” Sungmin shared, smirking at the memory. “She was always glad that I seemed nicer, better than him.”
“Well, you do seem much nicer than Yesung,” Zhou Mi obliged.
Sungmin shook his head, but didn’t elaborate. “Look where she is now. Look what she is now. One of the highest paid models in the industry, so sought after, always having bright lights following her. She’s exactly like Yesung.”
“It’s not your fault,” Zhou Mi sharply stated, breathing deeply when he realized what Sungmin was saying.
Sungmin chuckled. “One way or another, it is. Somehow, I was responsible for breaking both of them.”
---
(Sungmin watched as Yesung strutted down the runway, posed and did his thing. He was charismatic, eye-catching and just stunning. He could already sense the wheels in the heads of the fashion experts and photographers watching.
Who was this attractive new creature that had just graced them with his presence?
He could already see the headlines and the fashion spreads, accompanied with interviews and meetings with the rich and the famous. There were going to be tons of party and events invitations. He could already feel his best friend becoming the great person that he was meant to become.
“You were wonderful!” Sungmin practically screamed once the fashion show was over and they had found each other amidst the crowd. “You were amazing!” He felt Yesung’s chuckle through his hair as they hugged.
“I’m glad I wasn’t too shabby,” Yesung said, feeling and looking very much relieved.
“You were beautiful,” Sungmin praised. He cleared his throat and corrected himself. “You are beautiful.”
Yesung smiled and leaned towards him. And something just clicked in Sungmin’s head.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was wrapping his arms around his best friend’s neck and kissing him full on the lips.
There were cheers and wolf whistles.
And then Yesung was pushing him away.
“What are you doing?” Yesung hissed, glancing at the crowd who had stopped to watch them.
“I’m…Yesung, I-,” Sungmin stammered.
“You know what, I don’t even want to know,” Yesung interrupted rather harshly. He glanced around for a second before turning his attention back to him. “We’re never talking about this again. This never happened.”
That was the first day that Yesung started drinking himself away.)
---
“Why are you so weird?” Sungmin commented, making a face.
“I am not weird,” Zhou Mi indignantly defended himself. “I’m just…a free spirit.”
“Free spirit is euphemism for weird,” Sungmin let him know, smiling pristinely. “You model to get inspiration for designing circus costumes and then you deal with lions. You’re weird. But being a lion tamer seems kind of hot.”
Zhou Mi blinked at him. “How did I go from being weird to being hot?”
Sungmin shrugged. “I suppose I would have to watch one of your shows again, see it for myself once more to really be able to say so.”
“You can come to the show tonight,” Zhou Mi told him, leaning closer.
Sungmin fluttered his long lashes and smiled coyly. “Maybe I will.”
“Even though I’m weird?” Zhou Mi pressed, his nose bumping into his.
“I like weird,” Sungmin declared before capturing his mouth in a kiss.
There was the sound of a door slamming.
Then there was Yesung seething.
---
Yesung died on a Thursday morning.
Dozens of different pills and hard drinks really wasn’t a good combination.
His funeral was like a circus. Reporters and photographers camped out of the building, happy to catch glimpses of all the celebrities, models and fashion moguls make their way in and out to pay respects to one of the most fêted models.
Sungmin sat on the very last pew, wearing black and a pair of very dark sunglasses. He wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. He’d always hated the media and he didn’t want to be interviewed about something like this. Yesung was-is¬-his best friend.
Sooyoung, in fashionable black and sunglasses, made a beeline for him as soon as she had gone to the front, to say her final farewells to a fellow model and almost friend.
She didn’t say anything as she sat down beside him. Instead, she opened her purse and brought out a small hip flask.
“Here,” she said, handing it to him. “You need it more than I do. At least today, anyway.”
Sungmin unscrewed the flask and chugged its contents down like his life depended on it.
“I should be angry at you, you know,” Sooyoung spoke up once more. “This isn’t really the time and place and it’s not really proper, but this is your fault.” She looked at him as he moved to look at her. They saw each other’s reflections in the other’s sunglasses.
“You’re right,” Sungmin answered, opening his mouth to talk for the first time since he had found out about Yesung’s overdose. “This isn’t the time and place and it’s not proper because there’s no time and it’s never going to be proper because it’s never going to be your place.”
“Yesung is-was¬-in love with you,” she stated with conviction.
He scoffed. “I’m his best friend.”
“A stupid one, apparently,” she noted. She didn’t say anything for a while. “It’s funny. You’re supposed to be his best friend and yet it seems you know him even less than I do, and we weren’t even friends.”
“What are you talking about?” he questioned.
“Yesung’s not very big on words,” she elaborated. “He doesn’t know what to say at the worst and even at the best of times. He doesn’t know how to express himself. He doesn’t even believe in words.”
“I know all of this,” he told her, wanting her to stop talking.
“Well then, do you finally understand his reason for drinking so much?” she quipped.
Sooyoung’s words echoed in his head long after she had gone. He just didn’t know how to deal with his feelings for you.
---
He blinked as he felt his eyes becoming awash with certain wetness.
Fashion shows always brought tears to his eyes, not because they were beautiful (although they really were), but because it always overwhelmed him with memories. And the what ifs, should haves, could haves always came tumbling right after them.
He wished he wasn’t the type who remembered everything.
It’s only been a month since, he told himself, as if assuring himself that what he was feeling was perfectly normal, perfectly okay.
But, at the same time, he just wants to stop feeling, anything if it was possible.
Because, really, he didn’t know how he was ever going to feel that way again.
A hand covered his own, which was gripping the cloth of his pants tightly. He looked down and watched as his hand was coaxed to relaxation by the other, their hands then being intertwined.
Sungmin looked up and met Zhou Mi’s concerned bright eyes. He knew that he understood everything, that he could read his emotions on his face, and that he wasn’t okay at that moment.
Zhou Mi untangled their hands and reached out instead to pull him to his chest for more comfort.
(“If worse comes to worst, we can still run away with the circus, right?”
Sungmin gave him a wistful smile as memories of their young and naive selves being amazed and enchanted by the beauty of the circus flashed right before his eyes. They really had wanted to run away with the circus then.
“Of course,” Sungmin promised. “You and I will always have that as our back-up plan.”)
Sungmin leaned into Zhou Mi, inhaling the scent from his hair and neck. He closed his eyes, not really sure what he was doing and what he was thinking of. But he leaned even closer to him, his mouth practically on his ear and whispered a beseeching appeal.
“Take me away."
Characters: Sungmin, Yesung, Zhou Mi
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, Life, Friendship, Romance
Summary: AU. Where Sungmin searches for love.
Warning: Character death
A/N: This is...I don't even know what this is. It evolved into something completely different than what I had originally planned. I think it worked out, though. I hope. This was originally supposed to be a MiMin fic and then it just turned into a more YeMin one. Surprise surprise, no Kyuhyun lurking anywhere. LOL. Anyway, this can be taken as a companion piece for never believe, it's not so and the sound of rain echoes, kind of like a prequel. Comment are very much welcome. :)
the sun burns out, but the show must go on
I do not know how it ends.
Just that I miss you, right before it does.
- I Wrote This For You
Started: 6/12/11
End: 7/6/11
He blinked as he felt his eyes becoming awash with certain wetness.
Fashion shows always brought tears to his eyes, not because they were beautiful (although they really were), but because it always overwhelmed him with memories. And the what ifs, should haves, could haves always came tumbling right after them.
He wished he wasn’t the type who remembered everything.
It’s only been a month, he told himself, as if assuring himself that what he was feeling was perfectly normal, perfectly okay.
But, at the same time, he just wants to stop feeling, anything if it was possible.
Because, really, he didn’t know how he was ever going to feel that way again.
---
---
---
“This looks good on me, right?”
Yesung looked up from the fashion magazine he was going through, bored, as he sat on the soft, pristinely white designer couch in the middle of exclusive men’s section of one of the more high-end malls in the city. “Yes,” he answered in an uninterested tone.
Sungmin held out the barely pink-almost white long-sleeved polo shirt in front of him and studied it then studied himself on the floor-length mirror in front of him. He slightly titled his head to one side as if deciding. “You can at least be more enthusiastic about giving me a compliment,” he responded indifferently.
“I wasn’t giving you a compliment so there’s no need to be enthusiastic about anything,” Yesung retorted, rolling his eyes. “Besides, you already know that anything looks good on you. Why ask?”
“It’s still nice to hear it sometimes,” Sungmin admitted quietly. “It’s kind of like, I know how you love me and how I love you, but we still say it sometimes right? Because we need to hear it.”
“The truth doesn’t need words most of the time,” Yesung reminded him, quietly letting out a breath.
“Aha! Now that’s a compliment,” Sungmin exclaimed, turning around to face him, a big teasing grin on his face. He returned the polo shirt on the rack beside him and went through the other clothes on it. “Although…” he began again, a thoughtful look on his face. “How would you know that it’s the truth when you don’t confirm it with words?”
Yesung shrugged. “Words are deceiving, too. How do you know that you’re actually confirming a truth and not a lie?”
“You’re too pessimistic, Yesung,” Sungmin regarded him playfully.
Yesung looked at him for a moment. “And you’re a hopeless romantic.”
“I love you,” Sungmin teased. Then he ducked as a fashion magazine flew over his head.
---
(Sungmin stood back and looked on proudly at his work of art. He had built a castle made of sand.
For the first time in his young life, at eight years old, he was at the beach, building the castle he had always dreamt of building. He smiled as he made adjustments here and there, proud that he had done what he had always wanted to do.
He stood up and ran back to where his parents were sunbathing. He wanted to show them his sandcastle, yes, because it was so amazing and not, in the slightest, an easy feat.
When he ran back, his mommy in tow, his eyes widened, finding his beautiful hard work swept away by the waves of the sea.
He cried, no matter how much his mommy consoled him, told him that he could just rebuild another castle, an even better one.
“It’s not going to rebuild itself no matter how long you cry,” a voice beside him suddenly spoke.
Sungmin looked up, his tears momentarily forgotten, as a boy around his age stood beside him, watching as the waves continued to eradicate his sandcastle. Slightly taller than him, he was thin, fair, with a mop of dark hair on his head.
Tilting his head slightly, Sungmin asked, “Do you want to build a new one with me?”
The boy agreed. And, soon, they had built an even bigger castle, with more turrets and windows and grandeur than Sungmin alone couldn’t have done. He smiled at his new friend, rather pleased at the turnout.
“You’re welcome,” the boy said even without Sungmin’s word of thanks. He paused for a couple of seconds as he looked at Sungmin. “Do you want to come with me to see the circus tomorrow? They’re here for a week.”
“I don’t even know your name,” Sungmin pointed out with a frown. “I’m not really supposed to talk to strangers.”
“My name is Yesung,” the boy finally answered, a small smile on his face. “Now we’re not strangers.”)
---
“The fashion industry is a pretentious industry.”
Sungmin didn’t say anything abusive in retort to that blasphemous statement. Instead, his hand slipped and almost ripped the dress he was sewing for refitting purposes. He restored the dress back to the rack before he could do any more damage to it and turned around to face the girl he suddenly wanted to strangle if only he didn’t adore her.
“Can I help you with something, Sooyoung?” he asked, plastering a smile on his face.
The incredulously tall girl with legs that went on for miles pushed herself off of the doorway she was leaning against. “They told me I was fat,” Sooyoung complained, ungracefully planting herself on the sofa across from him.
The brows on his face furrowed. “Who told you that you were fat?”
“I’d rather not name names so as not to incriminate any of your designer friends,” Sooyoung started.
“You’re not fat,” he told her with all sincerity.
“Right,” she commented, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Still I can’t model looking the way I do, apparently. Do they want skeletons walking their clothes?”
“Do you see skeletons walking the clothes?” he threw the question back at her. When she didn’t say anything, because voicing out the answer to that question would have been completely pointless, he gave her a resigned smile. “You’re beautiful, Sooyoung. If you think this industry is trying to change who you are, then maybe it’s time to find a new dream.”
She frowned, but there was a twinkle in her eyes as she looked at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging me to do as they say, lose some weight? I mean, you tell your models the same thing.”
“I don’t want you to have to give anything up,” he insisted softly, reaching out to pull her to him.
He knew how harsh the fashion industry was. It wasn’t kind to him when he was a newbie. Sometimes, it still wasn’t kind to him. Aside from the unkindness and hostility that made one want to watch their backs, there were a lot of things he had to sacrifice. He was sure that he didn’t want Sooyoung, whom he treated like family, to experience that.
“But I really want to do this,” she told him firmly, albeit quietly. “You know I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” he echoed, patting her head gently. “And you will. You will become a model. You’ll walk for my show next month.”
Sooyoung peered up at him, a wide smile on her face.
He forced himself to smile back. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was right about the fashion industry. He didn’t have the heart to disappoint her.
---
(Yesung’s lip was bleeding. Sungmin bit his own as his best friend howled in pain as he dabbed cotton with alcohol on it.
“Just a bit more,” Sungmin apologized.
“I hate him,” Yesung growled, his eyes flashing in anger.
“No you don’t,” Sungmin countered gently. “He’s your dad.”
“I wish I can just pack up and run away, leave this hell-hole,” Yesung continued, ignoring what his best friend said.
“And leave me behind?” Sungmin asked innocently. Yesung’s mom had died when they were 10 years old.
“Of course not leave you behind,” Yesung retorted, rolling his eyes. Sometimes, he thought Sungmin was so dramatic about their friendship. But it made him secretly glad. It was important to him that he valued their friendship just as much as he did.
“Then where would we go?” Sungmin wanted to know, his eyes crinkling in excitement.
“Joining the circus is a good idea, don’t you think?” Yesung teased.
Sungmin rolled his eyes. “At 21 years old, you still think that.”
“What about modeling then?” Yesung suddenly quipped, more quietly than before.
Sungmin blinked. On one of their night outs in Seoul, after a long day of lectures, a manager at some modeling agency scouted Yesung. He mentioned liking his looks and his style and that he should come to the office to check it out.
“It’s a lot less crazy than the circus, right?” Yesung asked as if looking for some sort of approval.
Which Sungmin gave to him indirectly. “A lot less crazy than the circus,” he repeated softly.)
---
Sungmin staggered under Yesung’s weight. He fumbled with his keys, jabbed it into the keyhole and hauled both of them into his apartment.
He threw the keys on the table as he lowered his best friend onto the couch. Yesung immediately slid sideways, his cheek ending up resting on one of the throw pillows.
“This is the fifth time that I’m covering for you, Yesung,” Sungmin began, despite Yesung not being in the condition to be lectured on. “When are you going to stop drinking yourself to death?”
“Let me sleep, Min,” Yesung mumbled, keeping his eyes closed. “Tomorrow, let’s talk about this tomorrow.”
The next morning, Yesung was gone when Sungmin woke up.
They never did get around to talking about it.
---
“Sooyoung,” Yesung called out almost exasperatedly.
Sooyoung froze in her steps on the makeshift runway. “What?” she asked.
“You look excited,” he commented, eyebrows raised in amusement.
Sungmin, who was working on some designs on his worktable, overheard this and chuckled. “Of course she’s excited,” he stated. “It’s her first show.”
“Am I not supposed to look excited?” she carefully asked, although she thought she already knew the answer.
“Have you seen models who actually smile on the runway?” Yesung pointed out.
“Yes, there’s-,” Sooyoung started to say.
“They’ve earned that right,” Yesung interrupted, knowing that she was going to enumerate some names. She opened her mouth to say something, probably to apologize but he cut her off. “No one gets to smile on their first show. It’s almost somewhat symbolic when you think about it. The first few years are always going to be the hardest. There will be times; actually, it will be all the time, where you won’t find anything to smile about. It’s tough out there and if you think you can skip through all those just because-.”
Sungmin cleared his throat, his eyes still trained on the design sheets in front of him. Yesung faltered on his speech, glanced at Sungmin, who didn’t meet his eyes, and then looked at Sooyoung once more. Her eyes were awash with unshed tears. She was biting her lip so as not to let them fall on her cheeks. Without another word, Yesung walked out.
Once the door slammed shut, Sooyoung crouched down on the runway and buried her face in her hands. Sungmin sighed and put his pen down to go over to her.
“He doesn’t mean it,” was the first thing he said.
“Don’t,” she entreated. “You’re always covering for him.”
A number of incidents flashed across his mind, wherein he had to cover for Yesung; going to shoots drunk, missing meetings because of oversleeping, being rude to staff and other models, and just being downright impossible to work with.
“He’s my best friend,” he told her with a shrug. “I’m always going to cover for him.”
“He’s awful,” she whispered, wiping her cheeks of tears. “I’m glad you’re not like him. I hope you don’t get to be like him.”
“He’s been doing this far longer than I have been,” he shared vaguely. “Someone had to go first.”
---
(“This is it, Sungmin,” Yesung told him excitedly. His eyes almost disappeared because of the huge smile he had on his face. He gripped the sheet in his hands, almost crumpling it.
“This is it, Yesung,” Sungmin agreed, grinning. He lightly pushed him to the door. “Go knock them dead.”
Yesung beamed at him. “If worse comes to worst, we can still run away with the circus, right?”
Sungmin gave him a wistful smile as memories of their young and naive selves being amazed and enchanted by the beauty of the circus flashed right before his eyes. They really had wanted to run away with the circus then.
“Of course,” Sungmin promised. “You and I will always have that as our back-up plan.”
After a one-armed hug, Yesung walked through the door and into the go see.
They never did need to run away with the circus.)
---
Yesung leaned his head back on the chair as the make-up artist finished up with painting gunk on his face. He tried to relax himself by closing his eyes and sitting still. Even after years of modeling, he still felt nervous before walking down the runway.
When he felt his hair being ruffled in a familiar way, he opened his eyes. Then he quirked an eyebrow up.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, almost demandingly, looking amused. “From what I remember, this isn’t your show.”
“You’re a mess,” Sungmin muttered. In a smooth and discreet move, he had handed Yesung a small hip flask.
“I thought you were against my drinking,” Yesung commented, unscrewing it and taking a gulp.
“I’m only against it when you fall flat on your face and I have to be the one to look after you, embarrassing yourself and me as well,” Sungmin shared, grabbing the hip flask before he could finish the whole thing.
Yesung’s lips curved up a bit, a smirk slowly forming on his face. “You know you like looking after me,” he stated knowingly.
Sungmin just looked at him. “And you like taking advantage of that, don’t you?”
---
(“I think you just might be my best friend in the world,” Yesung told him after being delighted by a circus show, where a man managed not to get eaten by the lion he was taming.
Throughout the show, despite having watched countless numbers of such, he still felt tense, gripping Sungmin’s hand to ease the nervousness away.
Sungmin beamed at this. At 17, they had grown up together and had forever been attached to the hip. It was a time where they were contemplating which university to go to in Seoul, which was a city that was non-negotiable. It was either Seoul or nothing. And they wanted to be together still.
“Do you think we’ll always be together?” Sungmin asked.
Yesung reached out to ruffle Sungmin’s hair. “Of course,” he responded firmly. “We’ll always be best friends, nothing more and nothing less.”
Sungmin didn’t know why, but he felt a lot less happy when he heard that.)
---
The incredibly knocking-pounding-on the door woke him up with him crashing to the floor beside his bed. He ground as he sat up and the door pounding continued.
“Are you up yet?” Yesung asked as soon as the door swung open so wildly that he thought it was going to get pulled off from its hinges.
“What do you want?” Sungmin practically growled as they walked back into the apartment, closing the door behind them.
“Why are you so grumpy this early in the day?” Yesung demanded, making a face.
“I’m grumpy because it is early in the day,” Sungmin grumbled, plopping down on the sofa and closing his eyes. He had come in late from a go-see the previous evening. “Well…?” he asked when Yesung didn’t say anything. He found his best friend just standing there, looking at him with a smile on his face.
“It’s my day off and I was thinking of going out,” Yesung finally spoke, quirking an eyebrow up. “So get your butt off the couch and get dressed.”
Sungmin blinked up at him, the sleepiness gone. “You want to go out with me?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to,” Yesung replied, rolling his eyes.
Sungmin shrugged and got off the couch to go to his bedroom to change. “All your model friends must be really busy,” he remarked.
---
(“I can’t believe you forgot,” Sungmin said bitterly. He watched, a big frown on his face, as Yesung ran a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t mean to,” Yesung insisted, turning to face him. “I was just busy with-.”
“You’re always busy these days,” Sungmin reproached. “We never go out to dinners anymore, never have our movie marathons, never go out of town.”
“I’m busy, Sungmin,” Yesung emphasized, feeling frustrated. “It’s not like I have a lot of free time walking at least a dozen shows a month. And it’s not like that’s all I do.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Sungmin agreed too quickly. “You go to parties to get drunk and get high and-.”
“You go to those parties as well,” Yesung reminded him immediately. “I’m not the only one who gets drunk and gets high.”
Sungmin vigorously shook his head. “No. No one gets drunk and does drugs like you do. I thought you would’ve known that by now.”
“Look,” Yesung snapped. “I said I was sorry, okay. I didn’t mean to forget our dinner last night. You could’ve asked someone else to come. I don’t really know why it always has to be me.”
“You’re my best friend, Yesung!” Sungmin exclaimed, surprised at his words. “Of course it always has to be you.”
“Then I think it’s high time you know then that you’re not my only friend, Sungmin,” Yesung replied acerbically.)
---
Sungmin sighed as Yesung blatantly forgot another one of their movie dates. He watched as he left with a crowd of rowdy models. He really shouldn’t have expected him to remember, even when he promised he was going to remember more.
Packing his stuff in his bag, he checked his reflection out in the mirror. The lines on his face were getting deeper. Not of old age. Of despair and rejection.
Suddenly, he caught another reflection on the mirror. One of whom he didn’t know.
“Hey,” Sungmin greeted nicely, turning around.
“Hi,” the person choked back a reply.
Sungmin tilted his head a bit as he studied him. He was tall-really tall-with legs that went on forever, very slim, had a pointy but beautiful face, dark brown hair, and red lips.
“You’re Zhou Mi,” Sungmin stated knowingly after a moment.
“You know me,” Zhou Mi blurted out, clearly surprised.
“Of course I know you,” Sungmin responded with a small smile. “You’re one of the newer models. I’ve seen your portfolio. Not much of a portfolio, but I’m sure you’ll have more photos in time.”
“I’m not a model,” Zhou Mi hastily corrected. Sungmin gave him a curious and confused look. “Well, I am,” he amended. “But I’m also a stylist, a designer.”
“You are?” Sungmin asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” Zhou Mi confirmed, almost insistently. “I decided to model because, maybe, I could get more inspiration with my designing through modeling.”
“Mmm, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment,” Sungmin muttered, but Zhou Mi clearly heard him. “There’s no inspiration here.”
---
(“You’re so cheesy,” Yesung commented as he watched Sungmin draw an extravagant couture gown, his chin propped on his hand. “And dramatic,” he added. “Who’s going to wear that?”
“Angelina Jolie? Kate Hudson? Katy Perry?” Sungmin enumerated without hesitation.
“They’re all married,” Yesung sniggered. Sungmin opened his mouth to protest, but Yesung interrupted him before he could say anything. “And don’t deny it, this gown could only be fit for weddings. No one’s going to wear this to an awards ceremony. Except maybe Lady Gaga.”
“I was just going to say that Angelina Jolie isn’t married,” Sungmin corrected, making a face at him. He suddenly put his pencil down and glared at his best friend. “What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have some sort of rehearsal or something?”
“It’s so nice to know how much you appreciate my company,” Yesung sarcastically commented. “I’m just kidding,” he continued before Sungmin could respond with something that was just going to make them argue. He knew how sensitive Sungmin was about spending time together.
“Just…stand there for me, will you?” Sungmin finally said, pointing at the end of the runway.
“…okay?” Yesung replied, doing as he was told. “And…am I just supposed to stand here while you draw the world away?” Sungmin practically forgot the world once he started drawing designs.
“I’m only able to draw the world away because of you, you know,” Sungmin told him certainly.
Yesung snorted at this and stepped down from the runway. “I’m not going to stay for this,” he stated, shaking his head. “Call me when you’re done being weird.”
Sungmin stared at his back as he walked away.)
---
“Sungmin,” one of his staff called to him, eyes wide, panting and panicked. “We-we need your help with something.”
“What is it?” Sungmin calmly asked after a second once he’d taken in the condition of this particular staff member. He carefully pinned the side of the dress of one of the models.
“It’s Sooyoung,” the staff cried out. “We-she’s…not herself.”
Sungmin gave the staff member a nod, which sent her scampering away. He then smiled at the model he was attending to. “I’ll be right back,” he assured her.
He found Sooyoung, in her private dressing room, drunk out of her mind. She was already wearing the first set of clothes she was going to walk in. But her long hair was in disarray. It was obvious that she didn’t want anyone touching it.
“Sooyoung, what is it this time?” Sungmin coolly pressed, taking a seat on an empty chair. By that time, he was used to Sooyoung’s drinking and tantrums. He was so used to it that he had stopped getting angry with her for being so stupid. Just like Yesung.
“Don’t you get tired of all of this, Sungmin?” Sooyoung slurred, gesturing excessively around the room.
“Is that why you’re drinking today? Because you’re tired?” he inquired.
“No,” she quipped, putting a finger to her lips. “I drink because I think it’s the only way you would pay attention to me.”
He sighed and stood up. “You’re not walking today,” he declared, turning to leave the room.
“You can ignore me and deny it all you want,” she called a bit too loudly. “You know it’s true.”
“Stop this,” he said, facing her once more. He was surprised to find that she had stood up and was right in front of him. “You’re drunk,” he reminded her.
“Why is it that when it’s Yesung, you always make allowances, always turn a blind eye, always give in?” she asked, almost pleadingly. “You never ignore him, never turn your back on him. You never tell him that he can’t walk a show.”
“Sooyoung,” he hesitated. What could he say, really? Everything she said was true. All facts.
“I wonder how long you can keep this up,” she went on, smiling almost wickedly. “He doesn’t see you, you know. I don’t think he ever will.”
Sungmin turned on his heel, deciding to take the high road, and walked away.
“Everyone breaks promises,” Sungmin told Zhou Mi one day. He shook his head. “No, everyone just breaks. At one point or another, people break and they’re never the same. And people who know them knows that they’re not the same, even if they put on big, bright smiles.”
“Maybe…you’re over thinking it?” Zhou Mi suggested warily.
“Sooyoung hated Yesung with a passion because he was mean and drank all the time and acted like he was all that, even though he really is,” Sungmin shared, smirking at the memory. “She was always glad that I seemed nicer, better than him.”
“Well, you do seem much nicer than Yesung,” Zhou Mi obliged.
Sungmin shook his head, but didn’t elaborate. “Look where she is now. Look what she is now. One of the highest paid models in the industry, so sought after, always having bright lights following her. She’s exactly like Yesung.”
“It’s not your fault,” Zhou Mi sharply stated, breathing deeply when he realized what Sungmin was saying.
Sungmin chuckled. “One way or another, it is. Somehow, I was responsible for breaking both of them.”
---
(Sungmin watched as Yesung strutted down the runway, posed and did his thing. He was charismatic, eye-catching and just stunning. He could already sense the wheels in the heads of the fashion experts and photographers watching.
Who was this attractive new creature that had just graced them with his presence?
He could already see the headlines and the fashion spreads, accompanied with interviews and meetings with the rich and the famous. There were going to be tons of party and events invitations. He could already feel his best friend becoming the great person that he was meant to become.
“You were wonderful!” Sungmin practically screamed once the fashion show was over and they had found each other amidst the crowd. “You were amazing!” He felt Yesung’s chuckle through his hair as they hugged.
“I’m glad I wasn’t too shabby,” Yesung said, feeling and looking very much relieved.
“You were beautiful,” Sungmin praised. He cleared his throat and corrected himself. “You are beautiful.”
Yesung smiled and leaned towards him. And something just clicked in Sungmin’s head.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was wrapping his arms around his best friend’s neck and kissing him full on the lips.
There were cheers and wolf whistles.
And then Yesung was pushing him away.
“What are you doing?” Yesung hissed, glancing at the crowd who had stopped to watch them.
“I’m…Yesung, I-,” Sungmin stammered.
“You know what, I don’t even want to know,” Yesung interrupted rather harshly. He glanced around for a second before turning his attention back to him. “We’re never talking about this again. This never happened.”
That was the first day that Yesung started drinking himself away.)
---
“Why are you so weird?” Sungmin commented, making a face.
“I am not weird,” Zhou Mi indignantly defended himself. “I’m just…a free spirit.”
“Free spirit is euphemism for weird,” Sungmin let him know, smiling pristinely. “You model to get inspiration for designing circus costumes and then you deal with lions. You’re weird. But being a lion tamer seems kind of hot.”
Zhou Mi blinked at him. “How did I go from being weird to being hot?”
Sungmin shrugged. “I suppose I would have to watch one of your shows again, see it for myself once more to really be able to say so.”
“You can come to the show tonight,” Zhou Mi told him, leaning closer.
Sungmin fluttered his long lashes and smiled coyly. “Maybe I will.”
“Even though I’m weird?” Zhou Mi pressed, his nose bumping into his.
“I like weird,” Sungmin declared before capturing his mouth in a kiss.
There was the sound of a door slamming.
Then there was Yesung seething.
---
Yesung died on a Thursday morning.
Dozens of different pills and hard drinks really wasn’t a good combination.
His funeral was like a circus. Reporters and photographers camped out of the building, happy to catch glimpses of all the celebrities, models and fashion moguls make their way in and out to pay respects to one of the most fêted models.
Sungmin sat on the very last pew, wearing black and a pair of very dark sunglasses. He wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. He’d always hated the media and he didn’t want to be interviewed about something like this. Yesung was-is¬-his best friend.
Sooyoung, in fashionable black and sunglasses, made a beeline for him as soon as she had gone to the front, to say her final farewells to a fellow model and almost friend.
She didn’t say anything as she sat down beside him. Instead, she opened her purse and brought out a small hip flask.
“Here,” she said, handing it to him. “You need it more than I do. At least today, anyway.”
Sungmin unscrewed the flask and chugged its contents down like his life depended on it.
“I should be angry at you, you know,” Sooyoung spoke up once more. “This isn’t really the time and place and it’s not really proper, but this is your fault.” She looked at him as he moved to look at her. They saw each other’s reflections in the other’s sunglasses.
“You’re right,” Sungmin answered, opening his mouth to talk for the first time since he had found out about Yesung’s overdose. “This isn’t the time and place and it’s not proper because there’s no time and it’s never going to be proper because it’s never going to be your place.”
“Yesung is-was¬-in love with you,” she stated with conviction.
He scoffed. “I’m his best friend.”
“A stupid one, apparently,” she noted. She didn’t say anything for a while. “It’s funny. You’re supposed to be his best friend and yet it seems you know him even less than I do, and we weren’t even friends.”
“What are you talking about?” he questioned.
“Yesung’s not very big on words,” she elaborated. “He doesn’t know what to say at the worst and even at the best of times. He doesn’t know how to express himself. He doesn’t even believe in words.”
“I know all of this,” he told her, wanting her to stop talking.
“Well then, do you finally understand his reason for drinking so much?” she quipped.
Sooyoung’s words echoed in his head long after she had gone. He just didn’t know how to deal with his feelings for you.
---
He blinked as he felt his eyes becoming awash with certain wetness.
Fashion shows always brought tears to his eyes, not because they were beautiful (although they really were), but because it always overwhelmed him with memories. And the what ifs, should haves, could haves always came tumbling right after them.
He wished he wasn’t the type who remembered everything.
It’s only been a month since, he told himself, as if assuring himself that what he was feeling was perfectly normal, perfectly okay.
But, at the same time, he just wants to stop feeling, anything if it was possible.
Because, really, he didn’t know how he was ever going to feel that way again.
A hand covered his own, which was gripping the cloth of his pants tightly. He looked down and watched as his hand was coaxed to relaxation by the other, their hands then being intertwined.
Sungmin looked up and met Zhou Mi’s concerned bright eyes. He knew that he understood everything, that he could read his emotions on his face, and that he wasn’t okay at that moment.
Zhou Mi untangled their hands and reached out instead to pull him to his chest for more comfort.
(“If worse comes to worst, we can still run away with the circus, right?”
Sungmin gave him a wistful smile as memories of their young and naive selves being amazed and enchanted by the beauty of the circus flashed right before his eyes. They really had wanted to run away with the circus then.
“Of course,” Sungmin promised. “You and I will always have that as our back-up plan.”)
Sungmin leaned into Zhou Mi, inhaling the scent from his hair and neck. He closed his eyes, not really sure what he was doing and what he was thinking of. But he leaned even closer to him, his mouth practically on his ear and whispered a beseeching appeal.
“Take me away."