(no subject)
new : fanfic : superjunior
medium : one-shot
rating : PG
pairing : Yehsung x Ryeowook; various
x-posted to miracle______
magnae
They call you at home, one evening, at the dinner table. When the phone rings, it's the last thing you're expecting--they've never called you (hardly anyone does, after all), not even once since you passed the auditions and began training. You're eating when your mother turns to you, with a puzzled expression, and holds the phone out. "It's for you... it's the company."
You don't recognize the voice, but you recognize the name; he introduces himself as Lee Seunghwan, with SM, and you know he's one of the managers for that huge group that's rumored to be about to debut. Over--no, Super something, the last you heard. "This is Kim Ryeowook?" He sounds very focused, and more than a little impatient.
"Yes... yes, that's me." You curl the phone cord around your finger, and turn away from the table where your family watches, curiously.
"We need you in here first thing in the morning. Pack your bags, you'll be moving into the dorms. Bring your parents, if you need them to look over the paperwork."
You can only stare, for a moment, jaw hanging open as you try to summon some intelligent response. Why this, why now? You don't want to live in the dorms, you can't really afford to pay the boarding costs in addition to your lessons right now, anyway. "But, sir, I..."
He cuts you off, sharply. "No 'buts'. We have got one month to get you up to speed, before you walk out on that debut stage with the rest of Super Junior. If you're not up to it, tell me now and I won't waste my time."
"....I..." You stammer, a little helplessly. Debut. It's the one thing everyone's racing after, the one thing everyone's working toward, and you know, you know you'll never make it solo. Your voice instructors say your vocal talent is amazing, but... (there's always that unspoken, awkward look). "...I'll do it." You push the words out in a rush, heart jumping in your throat, palms sweating.
Seunghwan sounds a little bit more pleased than before, when he responds. "Good. I want you in here at 8 AM, sharp. We've got a lot to cover."
You don't know what to say. Debut. Debut. Debut. It's a pulse in your head. "Th-thank you, sir... I mean... really, thank you..." You bow a little, automatically, forgetting that it's just a phone call and he can't see you, then you flush.
"Thank me in a month, Kim Ryeowook. You're going to hate me until then." He laughs, once, dryly. "Oh... and about your weight? You need to be down to 60, at least, before the big day. Lose it fast. I'll see you in the morning."
The line clicks, and you're left sitting there with a red face and dead air and your parents staring at you in frank confusion. You swallow, glance down at your plate, and push it away slightly. "...They... they want me to debut. In a month. I..." You rise from your seat--both of them look too shocked to speak, still. "...I'm not very hungry. I'd better go pack."
- - -
You haven't slept at all--you couldn't. It's 8 AM and you're scurrying meekly down the hall after Seunghwan-sshi, who walks very fast, like he's on a mission. You've reviewed everything you know about the other trainees, in your head, but it isn't much to start with. You don't move in the same circles (you tend to hide in the background, to be honest), but you know their faces and their reputations. You're going to have to live with them.
He leads you into a conference room at the end of the hallway. One of the other managers is waiting there with a folder full of papers, and they both look at you critically as you creep into a seat when directed and sit with your hands in your lap. You work up the nerve to ask, after a few moments of silence, the question that's been nagging at you. "...why me? Why now? It's so sudden..." Your voice trails off into a whisper, as they exchange a look you aren't sure how to read.
"There were some... irreconcilable differences of opinion, yesterday, and one of the boys was pulled from the project. Everything we've been planning for is choreographed for twelve, not eleven." It's the other manager--you don't know his name, but he has glasses and a gentler voice.
Seunghwan makes a noise somewhere in the back of his throat, and pushes a stack of papers toward you. "Here's your contract. Keep your nose clean, don't pick fights, and you'll be fine. And for God's sake, don't piss off Kim Heechul."
You skim the contract, barely reading the words because your mind is spinning. You know about Kim Heechul, of course--there isn't a soul among the trainees who doesn't. You've never been able to decide if he's pretty or ugly (perhaps striking is the best adjective you can think of), but he seems to have some sort of intense personal charisma that draws people to him like moths to a flame despite his remote, icy attitude. At least, you think, you're good at keeping your head down. He's never noticed you yet. You don't pick fights. Debut. Debut. Debut. And you sign your name on the line.
- - -
Meeting them officially is awkward; you've seen them in the halls before, but few show any signs of recognition, and you wonder the whole time how they must feel about a newcomer being swapped in at the last minute, or about someone they've trained with for years being swapped out. Everyone is being rather quiet, and you don't know what to say in the tense atmosphere. Heechul has a tiny split at the corner of his lip and has been slouched on the couch in the corner, with a dark, furious look on his face, ever since Seunghwan led you inside. You think he looked at you hard, for a few moments, then dismissed you entirely. You're furniture, but that's alright.
The oldest of them all (and you wonder what kind of person chooses a stage name that means 'special', or if you're abnormal for not feeling special at all) smiles at you in a way that makes you think of plastic, and you look down at your hands to avoid it. "Jongoonah," he says, "why don't you show him to your room?" He rests a hand on your shoulder in a way that is probably supposed to be reassuring, then moves on past you, detached. Youngoon follows in his wake--usually he's noisy, you can't count the number of times you've heard his voice echoing along the corridors or narrowly avoided being run over when he suddenly rounds a corner, but today he is a silent presence, emanating worry.
Your new roommate is quiet and watchful, neither fat nor thin, tiny hands and trendy clothes, a few years older than you. You think he was an uhljjang; he has that poised look about him. He leads you down the hall, you with your heavy suitcase (you've never lived away from home before, you're afraid you've packed too much but what if you've packed too little?) bumping painfully into your shins, and swings open the door to a double room. The beds are bunked in the corner, and there are dust-free patches on the bare desk, where things have recently been removed. You've taken someone else's place in the group, someone else's bed, someone else's life, and it gives you a little chill. What if you become someone else because of it?
Debut.
- - -
You've lost 7 or 8 kilograms in the past month (the pitched final battle of a long war), running and sweating and rice-and-water starving it off because you knew you didn't have a choice, but it worked and you barely recognize yourself in the mirror, these days, with the way the sharp ridges of your cheekbones stand out like blades under your skin. Donghee eyes you strangely, sometimes, and you think about apologizing but you wouldn't know what to apologize for--if you were funnier or more confident it wouldn't matter what you look like, but your only asset is your voice.
You're back from your debut performance, tired and trembling and sweaty and staring yourself down in the mirror; your eyes are purple-smudged bruises, and you can still taste the sick-sweet traces of vomit on your tongue (it was just nerves, you promised them all, and you weren't the only one to succumb before you took the stage). Youngoon starts pounding on the door while you're still looking for yourself, all boisterous release-of-tension and too-loud voice, so you let yourself out of the bathroom and go to your room, crawling into the safe cavern of your lower bunk to wrap yourself in blankets and try to stop shaking. Everyone's coping in their own ways, tonight.
A hour or two later, the door swings wide, letting the yellow light of the hall in, and Jongoon trips through--he went out drinking with Heechul and some of the others, but you know he's got no tolerance to speak of. You've got your face to the wall and you hear rustling behind you as you wait for the lurching of his weight ascending the ladder, but it doesn't come. Instead, your mattress shifts and he flops down behind you, accompanied by the scent of soju.
"Ryeowookie~" He even sounds drunk, all sing-song and a little giggly. "You should've come out with us~!"
You're still thinking of an excuse when he sighs, dramatically, and slides under the blankets to fit himself snugly to your back. His breath is hot in your hair, and he wraps his arms around you so you couldn't pull away even if you tried. You never did stop shaking, and he must feel it, because he pulls you close and nuzzles the back of your neck. "You're cold..."
You don't know how to reply to save your life, but he doesn't press you any more, merely holding you as you tremble and try to adjust to the furnace-heat of a body wrapped around yours. It's unsettling but nice, and somehow you close your eyes without meaning to, and you dream of mirrors and choking and peeling off layers of skin.
In the morning, he untangles himself, feels your forehead with a cool hand while you're still struggling to wake up, and offers you a tiny, close-mouthed smile. "I know you were on a crash-diet, but it's time to stop." He pulls your blankets off and half-lifts you to your feet, steering you down the hall to the kitchen with an arm around your waist. Hankyung and Sungmin are already there, when he deposits you into a seat at the table--you're too sleepy to resist, so you lay your head down and hope no one asks you to cook. Sungmin starts rubbing your shoulders and chattering about the performance, and before you know it Hankyung slides a bowl of steaming broth in front of you and Jongoon presses a spoon into your hand.
It tastes good.
- - -
It's December, one long blur of filming and recording and rushing from one appearance to another to another, and you're letting yourself into the dorms late one night, coming home from the studio. Your breath leaked white clouds all the way up the street, and now you're trying to warm your nose behind your scarf and fumble your key back into your pocket between gloved fingers as you make your way down the hall. It's dark, but the light in the stairwell is on, and as you near it you hear low voices coming from somewhere around the corner, and your steps slow.
You can scarcely make out the words, as soft as they are, but you catch snippets--a hushed 'back now', a murmured 'but he', and something about the tone makes you come to a full stop. One of the voices is Heechul, you realize with a surge of alarm, and you think you really should back away, go out the door, and make an extra commotion when you come back in, just to let them know you're coming, but you don't.
"--dammit, Rella..." It's the voice you don't recognize that drops into a low groan, before soft, wet noises cut it off.
Whatever possesses you to steal a peek around the corner, into that stairwell, is a bad, bad thing. You don't believe the noises could possibly be what they sound like, but your misconceptions are corrected the moment you see the man--is that Jay Kim?--pinning Heechul against the wall, head bent to meet his just so, and you can't see their faces but you don't need to, now.
Your own face is flaming as you backtrack hurriedly out of the building and into the street, wandering until you come to a coffee shop that hasn't closed yet, where you creep inside for the warmth and stay until Youngoon finds you, a couple hours later. You don't tell him why you're there, but he takes a long look at you and doesn't ask.
- - -
Every time you see Heechul, you can't help ducking your head and blushing. It's made you second-guess everything, but most of all Jongoon. You know they used to be closer, you've seen a lot of old pictures of them, and now you wonder if he might be that way too. You can't help the way you go tense when he slips into your bed to cuddle, some nights, and you know he's frowning but he doesn't say anything about it. Eventually, you come to realize he's stopped, and you almost think you've started to miss the way he used to make silly bids for your attention. You're a little more invisible than ever, now, and you're not sure it's a relief.
The company wants you all to move to a new building (you won't all fit in one apartment, so they've set aside two) and you can't help but be aware of the drama sparked when Donghae tells Heechul he'd rather live with everyone else and Heechul's lost his excuse to stay exactly where he is, because they have their fight in your kitchen and half the dishes end up broken before they're through. Somehow, you assumed Jongoon would still be your roommate, though, and you trail silently after him into the biggest bedroom, but all four beds have bags on them and you try to back out before anyone sees you standing there awkwardly. Sungmin comes up behind you in the hall to wrap an arm around your shoulders and announce, brightly, that he needs a roommate. It's okay, though; you like Sungmin, and it's silly to feel so disrupted over a simple move, even if you do have to learn someone else's habits all over again like the steps to a new dance.
Donghee brings home an American movie, one night, and the next time you dance (shyly, unthinkingly), everyone cracks up. "Wax on, wax off," someone shouts, and even you have to admit the resemblance and laugh.
Jongoon doesn't really look at you unless he has to, and your conversations these days are limited to bland good-mornings.
You let it pass, because you don't like to make scenes, and maybe he's just busy, or maybe you're just not very interesting and he got tired of you (you try to ignore the accusing little voice that says you pushed him away yourself). There's a lot to keep you occupied, with lessons and all, and you're not even as busy as many of the others, so you help around the apartment when you can. On the nights that you make ramen for everyone, you pretend not to notice when he consistently finds somewhere else to eat--you're not a very good cook, you know, but still.
- - -
You've never liked ghost stories that much--they give you the creeps. But you're acting in one, now, and it's a little eerie to watch the lines between acting and reality blur. Everyone's telling all the spooky stories they know, to get in the mood, and it seems like someone is always marathoning horror movies. Jungsu won't let you hide in your room all the time, either, so you occasionally get dragged out to watch them, and he calls it group bonding.
It surprises you, a little, to realize that Heechul (with his brashness, his nonconformity, his self-reliance) is nervous in the face of ghost stories, too. You're tucked under a blanket between Jungsu and Sungmin (who is himself next to Donghee) on the couch, and Youngoon is on the floor with Hankyung and Heechul, while Shiwon leans in the entrance to the hallway and delays leaving just a little longer. There's a growing, ominous pulse of thunder from the movie's soundtrack, then the moonlight (on screen) catches a hanging corpse behind the unaware protagonist, and Heechul yelps loud enough to make everyone jump. The tension is broken with laughter, because Heechul has his face buried against Youngoon's side, and those two immediately start shoving and swatting at each other until Jungsu bounces a pillow off Youngoon's head and suggests they quiet down.
By the end of the movie, Jungsu is sleeping on your shoulder, and it's really too much trouble to move, so you don't.
You're still sitting there, half-awake in the dark living room, when Donghae and Hyukjae and Jongoon get home; you close your eyes quickly and feign sleep as they shuffle toward one of the bedrooms, but someone's footsteps pause in front of the couch, and you can hear light breathing, a creak of the floor as weight shifts. The scent of Jungsu's cologne is very strong in your nostrils, all of a sudden--you're trying so hard not to sneeze that it keeps you from betraying yourself with a startled jump when fingertips ghost over your brow and smooth your hair back out of your eyes. The floor creaks again, you hear a sigh so quiet you might have imagined it, and then the footsteps pad away down the hall.
- - -
Thailand is chaotic and exotic and hot, from the moment you step off the plane, and everyone is buzzing with excitement. There are cameras and crews everywhere, it seems, between assorted news reports and several shows, and you're never going to get used to them following you around so much, but you don't feel as skittish as you used to when the lens turns in your direction.
You wanted to sit next to Jongoon on the flight over, but you weren't brave enough to ask someone else to move, and he wasn't looking at you (being rather more intensely interested in his CD case). Youngoon came up behind you while you were still standing there, and steered you into a different row, next to him. You think he and Jungsu might have exchanged a significant look, but they do that a lot and you would rather imagine it had nothing to do with you.
It isn't until after dinner (during which Jongoon is testy and inconsistent and snaps at Heechul, which earns him a slap on the arm that doesn't look at all gentle), after everyone else goes down to the pool for another round of filming and relaxation (you beg a headache and stay in your room; you can't swim anyway), after they've all come back noisy and smelling of chlorine, that Youngoon flops himself onto your bed and ruffles your hair with one hand, rousing you from a near-drowse.
You lie there quietly for a minute, in no particular hurry to speak, but he goes on rubbing the back of your neck and right between your shoulderblades; it brings to mind a memory from years ago--you were 8 or 9 years old, maybe, and down with a particularly virulent stomach flu, and your dad sat up late with you one night, rubbing your back just like this. It makes you smile and grimace at the same time, and hide your face in the pillow. The fans like to call Eeteuk and Kangin the mother and father of the group, and the longer you've known them, the more they've settled into the roles. Kibum may be the youngest in age, but you're somehow still the magnae, by virtue of your latecomer status.
"Hyung?" You venture to talk, after a time, teeth worrying at your lower lip. "Does--... Has Jongoon-hyung said--... Is he ok?"
Youngoon's hand pauses for a moment, then gives your shoulder a squeeze. "I was hoping you might know what's wrong."
You can't help but deflate--they share a room, he must know more than you, whom Jongoon will barely look at. You're quiet for so long that he nudges you, then you shake your head. "No, hyung... I don't." It's true, sort of... you don't know anything, you can only guess at the reasons and blame yourself, and you don't know how to fix it or whether you dare to try.
You're lost in introspection when Youngoon puts you in a headlock and noogies the top of your head, and what are you supposed to do to that? Somehow, by the time he's made you beg for mercy, you feel a little lighter at heart, and when he suggests teaming up on Jungsu, you grin and agree. Between the two of you, you catch Jungsu offguard--Youngoon pins him down for you to land a peck on his cheek--then follow him to the next room, where Hyukjae and Sungmin help tickle him until he can't breathe. You were hoping Jongoon might have been planning to make the bedtime rounds with him, because, because... at least you might have been able to catch his eye. Right? Lacking that, you trail obediently through the halls after Youngoon and try not to feel as silly as you're sure you look.
When morning comes, the first thing you're aware of is a weight flopping onto your bed. You've barely begun to convince your eyes to open when a hand brushes your cheek and you breathe in the scent of Jongoon's aftershave, suddenly strong on your tongue. You turn your face away, reflexively, trying to clear the haze from your mind and assure yourself that it's perfectly natural to recognize the smell. By the time you've gotten your eyes open and raised your head, he has his back to you again, and doesn't turn around even when you whisper (daringly for you) "Hyung... hyung!" under the noise of the others' conversation.
It's useless, so you roll over and go back to sleep when they leave, and ignore the later commotion of their return... at least until they all dogpile you and then take half the hair off your leg with a roll of duct tape.
It feels like you're always looking at him, these days. You look at him, he looks at Hyukjae, you sit next to Hyukjae, he avoids you both, Sungmin looks at you funny, Hyukjae doesn't look at anyone, and Jungsu and Youngoon just look at each other. You wish all of this would stop.
- - -
When you get a text-message from Minsung-hyung to gather at headquarters for a group meeting, you aren't expecting all the other managers to be there too, looking serious. Serious looks from managers make you nervous, and you're not the only one who's suddenly fidgeting or frowning or sneaking glances at Jungsu's face in case he knows something (but his eyes are narrowed in that way that usually means he's as lost as you and doesn't like it).
By the time the last car arrives with Kibum and Heechul, straight from the Nonstop set, fingers are tapping impatiently against the wood of the table and Donghae has gone to sleep, head in his arms. You're tempted to try the same, but it's too late, and Hyukjae is already prodding him awake.
"Upper management has decided..." Kibum (the elder) enunciates carefully, "...that we are adding a thirteenth member to Super Junior."
The universal response is a dumbfounded 'What?!', because while things have been too smooth lately and everybody has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, this isn't quite what anybody was prepared for. If they're adding someone now, which of you will be the first to go?
Jungsu is steepling his fingers in front of his mouth, brow furrowed, and listening very intently as Minsung talks about plans and the future and the importance of being prepared for anything, because everyone, everyone has known from the start this was planned to be a project group. Heechul is twitchy and dead-silent, but listening no less carefully, and while Shiwon and Hankyung are showing no particularly overt signs of tension, when you drop your water-bottle and bend down to get it you see their tightly linked hands beneath the table.
After almost 40 minutes of discussion and concerns and questions, the conversation is just going in circles, and Seunghwan stands up. "I'm bringing him in," he says, and there is abruptly dead silence. "His name is Cho Kyuhyun. He was scouted by Chin Chin." Like you; Seunghwan meets your gaze, to be sure you know it, too.
As soon as he steps out of the room, Jungsu straightens in his chair, subtly, and casts a long look around the table. It says best behavior, everyone, and frowns disappear.
Seunghwan returns with a tall, handsome boy (he doesn't look younger, at all, but that's what they've told you) who clutches a sheaf of papers in his hands and lingers in the doorway uncertainly for a moment. You remember, very suddenly, your awkward introduction to the others, and realize there is an empty chair next to you--the only one remaining in the room. The new boy gives a jerky little nod and makes for it. You catch his eye, just before he sits down, and offer a smile and a soft greeting. "I'm Ryeowook..."
He looks surprised, then faintly embarrassed--someone across the table titters and it only occurs to you then that of course he knows who you are. "Pleased to meet you, hyung." His voice is surprisingly deep, for someone so young.
- - -
Everything's in an uproar, today. People are moving in, people are moving out, you're the only one who hasn't switched rooms or apartments, and Heechul has been complaining (loudly) since 7 am because there isn't really room for his enormous bed in the bedroom they're to be sharing and no one wants to disassemble it and try to move it up the stairs. No one breathes a word about moving Jungsu's special mattress into your room, though--everyone has seen him wincing since the accident. You aren't sure how you feel about two foreign girls moving into the room off the kitchen for a few weeks, especially since you're supposed to stay out of sight when the crews are filming.
The best part of it all, you have to admit, is Hankyung's cooking. It's been a long time since all twelve--thirteen, now, the head-count still throws you off--of you have gathered for a meal (not counting traveling), and you're amazed at the sheer volume of food that emerges from the kitchen even after the cooking-smells that have been gathering all afternoon. By the time all the food is in pans and two of the managers have brought an extra few low tables to fold out in the living room, it's after dark.
Heechul drapes himself over Shiwon's side, sleepily, and Hankyung keeps directing every other bite to Heechul's mouth instead of his own. They whisper and giggle a lot. Jungsu appears preoccupied. Youngoon, Donghae and Hyukjae are competing to see who can build the most perverted food-sculpure (well, to be honest Hyukjae's just eating most of his before anyone can judge it), while Sungmin makes disgusted faces and Donghee laughs and offers suggestions. Kibum is eating quietly, like you, but he doesn't really seem interested in what's going on, or perhaps he just masks it better. Kyuhyun is sitting back, watching everyone else with an expression of mingled fascination and confusion; you can't blame him, it's a lot to take in in a short time. Jongoon just looks tired--he has all day--and leans against the side of the couch.
It worries you a little.
When Heechul props himself up to sit straighter and starts in with a loud critique of Youngoon's 'sculpture', Donghae remarks that, between the two of them, he'd guess Youngoon is more likely to be an authority (Kibum snorts audibly; Shiwon, meanwhile, looks vaguely scandalized). Heechul shouts in protest, launches himself indiscriminately in Donghae's direction, and that side of the table degenerates into a wriggling tangle of limbs. Hankyung patiently moves a few dishes out of the way before anyone's flailing arms can overturn them.
You contemplate the dark circles under Jongoon's eyes, and sneak a couple pieces of your sweet-and-sour pork onto his plate, during all the commotion, because you know he's especially fond of it. He glances over at you, gaze betraying surprise, then looks quickly back down before you can attempt a smile. He does eat the tidbits you passed him, though, and that's enough for you.
- - -
It's the last thing you expect, to be perfectly honest, when someone taps at your door--you thought you were alone in the apartment, after Shiwon suggested taking the girls out to dinner. You've turned your speakers on instead of using your headphones, for a change, and you're singing wordlessly along with a song you've been writing in bits and pieces for a month.
The tapping startles you into a moment of silence, then you turn your music off and run a hand through your hair. "Come in...?" The door swings open to reveal Eva, and you flush despite yourself. "Oh! Sorry, nuna, I... I didn't realize anyone stayed home, I'll turn it down."
"No, no, please!" She waves a hand, then tucks loose hair behind one ear and smiles, apologetic. Her accent is strange, but her words flow smoother than Anya's unwieldy bursts (sometimes, you think Anya is the female version of Heechul, and if they reproduced no one would ever be safe again). "Please don't stop. You have beautiful voice. I heard it, from the other room."
You blink up at her, a little dumbly; she apparently takes that as encouragement, and steps further into the room to take a seat on the floor beside you. "Please, can I listen?" She is older than you, and pretty, and has been nothing but nice to you even though you rarely come into the living room or speak to the girls at all, and how are you really supposed to deny her a direct request?
So you turn your music back on, duck your head, and explain (rather shyly). "This isn't very good, it's not finished..." If you close your eyes, you can pretend no one is listening and pick up the thread where you left off.
"That was very beautiful," she remarks, after you finish the song. "You.. made it? Wrote it?"
"Yes..." You don't entirely know what else to say, but it doesn't seem to bother Eva.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin atop them. "Do you write music a lot? For everyone?"
"No, I... it's just for myself... I have to get better." You find yourself mirroring her pose, unconsciously, and force yourself to lean back against the edge of the bed. "..Nuna, why didn't you go to dinner with the others?"
She shrugs her shoulders slightly, and angles a glance over at you. "When everyone is together, sometimes it is too loud. Why didn't you?"
You hesitate for a moment, then smile, wryly. "The same, I guess."
By the time the others come home flushed and sweaty from drinking at a noraebang, three hours later, you have learned all about Eva's family in two countries (you remind her of her youngest cousin, she says) and what it's like to really travel. She has learned your dance steps for Miracle (well, most of them--you both laugh too hard to get all the way through it) and that you got turned down by the company once because of your weight.
When she leaves, you think, it'd be nice to keep in touch.
- - -
China is somehow both everything and not at all what you were expecting, and yet it fascinates you (in particular) to experience the alien feeling of being set adrift in a bubble of incomprehension. It's different than Thailand was, and you can't put your finger on how. You wish, for a moment, that you could walk away from the other members and the managers and all the coordis and maybe understand what it's like to be Hankyung, a little better. He has been chattering almost constantly since you all arrived, taking over as the confident frontman--it's like a dam has been breached and every word he's been saving up is flooding out of him while the rest of you can only gape at his sudden eloquence.
Kyuhyun, too, surprises you when he says a few words to the fans in clear (if perhaps a little slow) Mandarin. All you can remember how to say is 'I'm Ryeowook', but you've never said much else, even at home. As for Kyuhyun, both Shiwon and Hankyung turn to look at him, when he does--Hankyung is smiling, Shiwon's expression is rather harder to read.
- - -
Back at home, Anya and Eva have moved into another residence and life has reorganized itself again--the taping isn't over yet, but your schedules are too unconventional to be easy on the girls, who have classes to attend and lives of their own. You think the managers might also have gotten too nervous about the co-ed living situation ever since the night Youngjoon-hyung dropped in on a slumber party in the living room, a lot of soju, and Anya putting Heechul in a wrestling hold in the middle of the floor while he squealed. Now, you and Sungmin are sharing a room again, but you've squeezed an extra bed in for Kyuhyun (you're not sure why, as he usually just crawls in with Sungmin regardless).
It's just eight of you here tonight--nine if you count Donghae on the phone with his family in the other room. Jungsu is drowsing on the couch with a hand over his eyes and his sock-feet (pink Doraemon, today) resting in Youngoon's lap. Hankyung has stretched out on the floor on his stomach, and Kyuhyun is using a spot in the curve of his lower back as a pillow while Shiwon fidgets near Youngoon's legs and Heechul cuddles with Jongoon, wrapped in a Winnie-the-Pooh blanket.
Heechul is arguing animatedly about girlfriends, with anyone who will listen, and you're watching the whole thing from the doorway to the kitchen, waiting for your tea to heat. Shiwon opens his mouth and starts to say something; you can't catch what, because Heechul cuts him off with a dirty look and a scathing tone. "And no, Rose doesn't count, whatever he thinks he is." He manages to turn the name into an epithet--Shiwon just turns red and looks down (you are reminded of an incident some time ago, beginning with a picture or two going around cyworld and ending with Heechul throwing a water bottle at Shiwon's head and refusing to speak to him for three days).
There is an awkward beat of silence, but then Jungsu speaks without opening his eyes. "So what do you think, Heechul?"
Appearing mildly taken aback, Heechul pauses, then frowns down at his hands and speaks, voice suddenly halting. "I think.. that the way we live, right now.... it's impossible to get close to someone unless you start to understand them, right? How can you understand someone, if you aren't able to start from some common ground? How can someone understand how important something is to you--why you can't blow it off to go see them, or whatever--if they have no real idea what you went through to get to that point?"
The microwave beeps obnoxiously into the silence, and you slink over to fetch your cup and spoon some sugar in, an ear still trained on the living room.
When you return, Hankyung has propped himself up on his elbows. "Maybe this is true, Heechul-hyung. But... we are, we are all... together, we..." His words are floundering, a little, and he looks to Shiwon (as is his habit)--the younger straightens his shoulders and listens intently to the sibillant string of syllables that follows.
"In the end, when it comes down to it..." Shiwon pauses, looking to Hankyung in some silent question, and Hankyung nods. "...all of us are each other's strongest support. The ones who understand the most. Please don't forget that." He smiles, and the intonation he adopts when relaying something from one language to the other settles into his usual speaking voice. "I like that, hyung... I really like that."
- - -
You're back from Malaysia, back from filming the new MV and shooting for the photobook, back from the concert with TVfXQ; Hyukjae has been nothing but smiles since seeing Junsu again (even if they did have to rush away to catch their flight, too quickly to even give an encore), and as pleased as Donghae and Heechul were to pile onto Yunho in an enormous hug when they caught him in the dressing room just before the show, it pales in comparison to the way Heechul has been beaming ever since he got the word that Inkigayo wants him to MC the next performance of the Trax. Everyone knows Heechul's smirk--his smiles, the brilliant true ones, are much rarer.
Kyuhyun is sprawled on your bed as you sit at your keyboard on the floor--one of these days, you really are going to suggest just getting rid of the third bed in the room so that there's more space to walk; it's not like he ever uses it. The blankets rustle as he rolls onto his back with a sigh (his third), and you turn around to rest your chin on the foot of the bed and look at him questioningly.
There are times when he reminds you very much of a puppy, and this is one of them. "Hyung, can I ask you something?"
You turn the keyboard off and clamber up onto the bed, stretching out beside him--it's your answer.
"How long did it take...?"
"Take?" You're confused. He grimaces, a little, and flops over, burrowing into your side, where his next words are muffled.
"...To stop feeling like an outsider."
Sometimes, you aren't sure you ever have. But you're the hyung, and those moods are passing; you can be more reassuring than that. You smooth his hair down (it never quite lies flat, no matter what they use on it) with one hand, and choose your next words carefully. "Kyuhyunah... there are always going to be little things I didn't share with the others... in-jokes, memories that most everyone remembers and can laugh about, except me." His shoulders have stiffened a little--you give one a squeeze, and continue. "But we've made a lot of memories together, too... all of us, including you."
Kyuhyun is silent for a long time, then nods, face hidden against your chest.
At that moment, the door swings inward--it wasn't latched--and Jongoon pokes his head in, mouth open to say something. He stops dead in the doorway as you look up from petting Kyuhyun's hair, and a look you can't begin to define darkens his eyes (and, if you must admit it, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end).
The look passes quickly, fades to a bland, closed-off expression, but you know it was there, and you barely hear Jongoon say something about management wanting to talk to all three of you soon.
It's one of those times when you think things would be much simpler if everyone just came right out and said what they wanted, because then at least you could make an informed decision.
- - -
Jongoon has been downright moody, the past week or two, vacillating between too-bright cheer and sullen glares, and you've spent a lot of time napping in your room to avoid the worst of it. Too many people are close to losing their tempers with him, though, and it's hard to ignore when you're stuck in the same room, like this radio show (the extra vocal practice sessions you and he and Kyuhyun have been undergoing haven't been a cakewalk, either).
Even Hyukjae, who usually grits his teeth and tolerates Jongoon's touchy-feely impulses with mute longsuffering, has slapped his hands away several times already, and there's a muscle twitching in his jaw. You suspect that if someone doesn't do something soon, the next slap may be less forgiving. Jungsu is sick, slouched at the furthest end of the table next to Youngoon, and you're not really sure he's conscious enough to be aware of the building irritation anyway. Kyuhyun has taken a seat almost as far from Jongoon as he can get and is hiding under his baseball cap--Heechul is too busy whispering to Shiwon and sending Kibum into fits of laughter to pay much attention to your side of the table (or maybe he's just trying to defuse the tension) and Donghae is looking increasingly annoyed with Jongoon's antics every time Hyukjae twitches.
When Hyukjae gets up to dance, you don't stop to ask anyone, you simply move into his seat and give a lame excuse about your headphones not working. Jongoon stiffens, at the end of the table next to you--you try to catch his eye, but he won't meet yours. He's still pretending to ignore you when you pick up a pen and start doodling on the margin of the paper in front of you, but as you let apparently random scribbles etch themselves into words, you know he's sneaking glances.
'We need to talk, hyung', you write, and 'after the show'.
'Please'. You keep right on sketching, obscuring the words a little at a time until nothing can be read of your message, but a glance at Jongoon reveals his head bowed, expression pensive. Afterwards, Donghae seems to be making a special point of wrapping his arm around Hyukjae's shoulders and cuddling against his side. Jongoon is subdued, but he's not looking at them.
If nothing else, he knows how to put a good face forward when he sings, and the three of you--you, Jongoon, and Kyuhyun--don't sound like the extra lessons have gone to waste.
After the end of the program, you're back at home; Sungmin and Kyuhyun have already vanished for safer ground. You thought you were being subtle, but maybe Donghae saw the messages you were writing and decided to help matters along.
There is a polite knock at the door--you call a welcome, and Jongoon sidles in to take a seat on the corner of one of the beds, warily. You shift, rub your bare arms, and swallow. This was your fault from the beginning, even if he only complicated things, and you've let it get entirely too far out of hand.
"Hyung?" You start, uncertainly. If you do this, if you willingly remove yourself from the sidelines and step into the game, you won't be able to go back to observing. But maybe you were deluding yourself about observing from the start. "I think I need to apologize..." You cut him off before he can question you, an involuntary blush rising to your cheeks. "...for jumping to conclusions, in the past, and for not asking questions."
Jongoon stares at you, brow furrowed; he doesn't look like he knows what to say.
So, you risk it. "And hyung... maybe you've done the same thing." Three beats of silence (you squirm). "So... I'd really like it if we could give it a fresh start, or try a bit harder, or something." You hold out your hand to him, somewhat shyly. "...Hi, I'm Ryeowook, and I miss being your friend."
- - -
You're both a little awkward around each other, but you're trying. Jongoon will look at you again without jerking his eyes away the moment you catch him, and when he slings an arm tentatively around your shoulders, you try to simply relax into the support--his arms feel different than they used to; bulkier, and you've spotted the definition in his chest and abdomen forming for months.
He must have noticed you watching, because he leans over to murmur in your ear in the dressing room, tone a mixture of uhljjang pride and something else (craving for approval, perhaps?). "I've been working out."
You look down at yourself, bird-boned and slouched, and pull your shirt on quickly, with a rueful laugh. "I've been sleeping." It takes a conscious effort to turn back to him, a moment later, and offer an apologetic glance. "It looks good on you, hyung."
It's worth the faint discomfort, to see the little furrow between his brows relax and a pleased smile spread. You laugh, later, when you see that he's updated his cyworld with a bunch of new pictures of himself--and then you duck down to avoid curious stares from the others in the PCbang, and cover your mouth.
- - -
Things are looking up, you think--Jongoon has been extra-nice to Kyuhyun ever since you apologized (Kyuhyun is careful to flirt outrageously with Sungmin, of course, even if he does steer clear of Hankyung's bed and Shiwon's glares), and you let the others put you and Jongoon together for the plot of the 'fanservice' episode of the mini-drama. It isn't so bad, really, and Jongoon is so campily over-the-top with it all that you can't really get offended when he gropes you a little more than necessary while pretending to brush tacks off your pants and grins cheekily where the camera can't catch it.
You're sitting on the couch, late one night, leaning into Jongoon's side because you've gotten into something of a habit of doing so when he saves you the space to join him, and watching TV (well, resting your eyes, actually--you're really rather comfortable and sleepy). He's draped an arm around you and is tracing idle little patterns with a fingertip on the skin of your upper arm; it's just enough to keep you from drowsing off, and you think if it were anyone but Jongoon doing it, you might find the ticklish touches a bit irritating.
Hyukjae and Donghae wander in and look from the two of you to the TV and back, hopefully. "Are you watching something, hyung, or can we play a game?"
You close your eyes because you weren't really paying attention to the program anyway; Jongoon shifts a little, drawing a deep breath, then gives your arm a faint squeeze. "Go ahead." They both flop onto the floor between the couch and TV, unwinding controllers and making themselves comfortable on a few spare pillows, while you nuzzle a little further into Jongoon's shoulder, cozily.
They're so absorbed in the game, after a few minutes, that you suspect they wouldn't notice if the building burned down around them. It's probably a good thing, because Jongoon's hand is still drifting up and down your arm, the motions slow and sweeping, and you're watching his fingers out of the corner of your eye (somewhat fascinated, you have to admit to yourself). It's starting to get to you in a way you weren't exactly prepared for, and a slight shiver runs down your spine--on one hand, it's a boy, but on the other, it's Jongoon and there's something to be said for that.
He feels the little tremor, and his hand stills, fingers curling further around your arm without increasing in pressure. You aren't sure quite what to make of that, and you tilt your head to angle a questioning glance up at him, but he's looking down at you and his face is much, much nearer than you realized. His eyes look like pools of ink from here--it's a trick of the dim light in the room and the angle you're looking up from, you can't see the smallest distinction between pupil and iris. You can, however, feel his breath on your lips (and smell the curry you both had for dinner, but it's not as distracting as one might think).
Donghae's cellphone rings, he shouts "Pause!" (Hyukjae makes a disgruntled noise) and you both jump nervously--you look away from Jongoon's face and try not to turn bright red.
Donghae is grumbling about disruptions, Hyukjae is poking at his side and accusing him of setting it up somehow because he was about to lose, anyway, but then some indefinable thing in the room changes and Donghae's shoulders have gone rigid. Hyukjae falls silent instantly, and props himself up on his elbows. "...Donghaeyah?"
Donghae scrambles to his feet in a sudden, jerky move, the phone clutched tightly to his ear, and drops the controller unheeded on the floor. He makes for the hallway, but you hear the low cry rising in his throat. "...no, no, no, no, no..."
By the time you and Jongoon are on your feet and peering into the hall, Hyukjae has his arms gingerly around Donghae from behind and a starkly helpless, fearful look on his face you haven't seen before, and someone has opened the bedroom door to check on the commotion.
Jungsu takes one look at Donghae, clinging to the phone with furious, wet eyes, and looks straight at you. "Go get Heechul." You run.
- - -
You're still in Mokpo for the funeral when the next blow hits.
It's Song Kibum who draws the remaining group aside this time, early the morning after Heechul leaves, after taking an extended phone call in the other room. His demeanor is distinctly uneasy, and he clears his throat before speaking. "There's been an accident. Heechul..." From your position in the huddle, you see Donghae's face go absolutely white. Kibum continues quickly, reaching for his shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. "Don't worry... they've taken him to the hospital where it happened. He's stable and they said he was conscious when they brought him in, but they're still running x-rays and checking for.. other injuries." He pauses, looking down. "Right now, we do know his leg is broken. As soon as we know more, we'll keep you informed."
No one has anything to say on the ride back, but you're not the only one who is careful about fastening his seatbelt.
When you get home, Jungsu and Youngoon are waiting--there are blankets and pillows all over the floor of the living room, and no one even mentions going back to the other apartment just yet. Everyone sleeps in a tangle on the floor that night, even those of you who live there, and somehow in the chaos of arms and heads and legs and clinging, Jongoon winds up with his face in your stomach and his arms around you for hours, but it doesn't make you uncomfortable at all.
- - -
You're back in Thailand again--after the concert, they pack you all in a bus and send you to a resort hotel on the beach. It's after 2 in the morning, when you finally get there, and your flight home isn't until late that night. It's sort of a vacation (you suppose) with most of the day free, and it might be the last one you get for a long time. Youngoon is sick and some of the others fall asleep right away due to sheer exhaustion, but sometime around 3, when you're sitting in the hotel bar with Jongoon because neither of you can sleep, Jungsu wanders in with Hyukjae and Sungmin in tow, looking like he's focused somewhere a million miles away and isn't sure how to find the way back. Jongoon waves them over, and after a brief discussion over drinks the seven of you (Shiwon and Hankyung join the table from where they've been conversing quietly in the corner) decide that it's a wonderful night for a stroll on the beach and head out with several six-packs of beer between you.
There is almost no moon, just a razor-edged crescent, but the orange lights of the resort guide your way out onto the sand and along the breakers. Jungsu has his shoes off first--it looks like such a good idea that everyone else joins in, and you're up to your ankles in soft, cool sand before you know it. Shiwon and Hankyung are holding hands casually as they walk ahead of you, and you would think nothing of it if it weren't for the little, incidental touches along the way (shoulders brushing, fingers tangling, a thumb ghosting back and forth along the inside of a wrist, a finger hooking into someone's belt for balance).
You look sidelong at Jongoon around a swallow of beer; he simply smiles and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you closer. It's easy to stumble in the sand, and you almost drop the bag of empty bottles you're carrying when you stagger into his side, but he plants his feet and steadies you, ducks his head and brushes his lips over yours in the process. You're more surprised, than anything, by the peck, but he keeps walking and so you have to as well, if you don't want to fall over, and neither of you says anything for a time.
The sky is beginning to fade from black to a deep blue-gray before Jungsu drops to sit on a half-sunken log in the sand. Sungmin picks a seat cautiously, brushing at the weathered driftwood with one arm of his light jacket first, and Hyukjae stretches out in the sand by their feet, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Hankyung and Shiwon head for the water's edge, standing in ankle-deep waves and splashing around playfully. You leave the bag by one end of the log, bottles clinking inside, and tug Jongoon (by his wrist) for higher ground, slipping and sliding your way up the side of a dune.
At the top, you spread your arms, take a deep breath, and let yourself fall on your back with a grunt--it looks softer than it feels, but the impact is quickly forgotten as the shifting sand cradles you. Jongoon leans over you, looking mildly concerned, and you laugh.
He sits down next to you, so you push yourself up on your hands and give his shoulder a deliberate jostle with your own. Several back-and-forth shoves result in an impromptu wrestling match (you're badly outmatched, but he isn't putting any real effort into it) and you end up half-sprawled across his chest and grinning down at him. You've been wondering if he might think you were angry about the peck on the way, and it seems like a shame to let such a prime opportunity go to waste. You're pretty sure that there's no big difference between kissing a girl and kissing Jongoon, after all, except maybe the look in his eyes when you get this close--the one that looks like he really wants you to do it.
So you do, and it really isn't that different (his lips are soft and warm) except for the slightly scratchy feeling along his jaw and the knowledge that this is Jongoon and the way that his tongue brushing glancingly against the tip of yours sends a frisson down your spine.
Someone coughs, further down the hill--you think it's Jungsu's subtle reminder that you're not alone out there--and you pull apart reluctantly.
By the time you all stumble back into the hotel, the sun is just peeking over the edge of the horizon. You're exhausted (you're lucky, frankly, to make it into the elevator, with how appealing the couches in the lobby look) and Jongoon practically steers you down the hall because you don't feel like opening your eyes or worrying about finding your room or doing much of anything at all. You fall asleep without so much as trying to undress, first, and Jongoon wraps himself around you like a blanket.
- - -
One night, after returning from a performance, you're slouched in the living room watching a movie with Jongoon and Donghae (who is even more fidgety than usual), while the others have either left for schedule or gone to bed. Jongoon's phone buzzes, and when he picks it up, you can distinctly hear a girl's voice, greeting 'oppa' cheerfully.
Fans do get your mobile numbers and call you sometimes, but he isn't making a polite excuse and hanging up. Instead, he gets up from the couch and wanders out of the living room with a smile. You watch him go, puzzled; Donghae is talking to you but you don't really hear it. Jongoon is on the phone for forty minutes before he finally hangs up, and you don't stop chewing on your thumbnail until you finally see his shadow moving back toward the end of the hall.
"Who was that, hyung?" You try for innocence, but judging from the amused glance he gives you as he rejoins you on the couch, you miss.
"A classmate from high school, that's all." He reaches over to tug lightly on a stray strand of your hair, and you wave his hand away. "Ryeowookie~" He sing-songs at you, grins wider, and smacks a noisy kiss on your forehead. Maybe you are a little jealous, but now it seems silly.
At the other end of the couch, Donghae is busy ignoring both of you (slumping down further with his arms folded over his chest), when footsteps clatter through the front entrance and Kibum sticks his head in the door, looking unusually awake. "Hyung!" He looks to Donghae first, then Jongoon. "I just got a call from Changmin, they're at the hospital. Some girl, an anti... she tried to poison Yunho-hyung with a drink."
Donghae just stares, for a few moments, expression wilting pathetically.
By the time you get to the other apartment, Heechul's cursing is audible from the hallway, a stunned litany as he hunches over his computer on the living room floor and follows every tidbit of news he can find as sites update. Jay Kim, sleep-tousled and looking utterly confused, is sitting behind him and squinting to read the screen over his shoulder; Hankyung gets home a few minutes later, and the explanations have to be repeated yet again after Jay wakes up enough to call Jungmo.
It takes both Donghae and Hankyung cajoling and Jongoon and Kibum physically dragging Heechul back to his bed and taking his crutches away, to keep him from trying to catch a cab to the hospital and camp out there all night. Finally, Jay, Kibum, and Donghae all climb into the big bed with him to ensure he stays, and Hankyung busies himself cooking in the kitchen despite the hour. The angry protests emitting from the bedroom, at least, have quieted by the time Jongoon tugs you out the door to return home.
It isn't until sometime the next afternoon, after the worst of the chaos has settled, that you remember it's Donghae's birthday.
- - -
Jongoon and Sungmin have traded rooms; it's more convenient for everyone, considering how often you, Jongoon, and Kyuhyun have rehearsal or schedule together (not to mention that Jongoon was staying with you most nights anyway). Kyuhyun pouted for awhile at the loss of his usual sleeping-partner, but has taken up just crawling in with the two of you sometimes, and Jongoon doesn't complain. It's a little crowded, three people on a narrow bed like the ones you have, but you've grown accustomed to sleeping with arms around you, limbs draped over you, and occasional wandering hands (although Jongoon has discovered you'll shove him out of bed if he tries it when Kyuhyun's there--Kyuhyun just laughed and made a point of disappearing, on some nights after that, even though it really wasn't necessary).
When they first told you that the three of you would be debuting together as K.R.Y., you were a little afraid that it meant your activities with the group as a whole would come to an end, but you have to admit this is the type of singing you've wanted to do from the beginning. It's here, for the first time, that you're really able to feel like you contribute something irreplaceable to the group as a whole.
It's been one year since you first walked out on the stage for Twins with your heart racing and your palms sweating and your stomach doing nervous flipflops. Kyuhyun looks a little down, during the party, until Youngoon announces that (one way or another) you're going to have another party at the end of the month, because it will have been six months since Kyuhyun joined you, by then.
You've started saying more than 'I'm Ryeowook' in public, somewhere along the way, and you kind of like your hair now. You kind of like the person you see in the mirror, too, even if you don't spend nearly as much time in front of it as Jongoon does. In pictures, you think you look the happiest when he's there, too, and there have been a lot of those lately.
It's been a good year, you think (with Jongoon's warm, solid presence at your shoulder and his hand curled around your wrist), despite a hundred setbacks--no one really expected you all to come this far, this fast, in the face of everything that's happened. You smile at him, in the dim light; the occasion was deemed suitable for candles and Sungmin and Donghee turned out all the lights in the apartment together when everyone gathered in the living room. Hankyung is on the phone with Shiwon (no one wanted him to miss the anniversary, even if he did have to go to Hong Kong) near the balcony doors when he exclaims in surprise and Heechul rolls his head lazily back to look at him, from where he's draped himself across Youngoon's legs.
"Snow, snow! It is snowing!" Hankyung points out the glass, tapping a finger against it, then fumbles at the latch and slides the door open. A chilly gust of breeze curls into the room; everyone is clambering to their feet and outside in slippers and socks (Hankyung is barefoot and hops from one to the other restlessly), crowding onto the balcony and staring upward. With twelve of you (and a phone) packed out there, shoulder-to-shoulder-to-shoulder, at least it's almost warm. Jongoon wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder; you cup your own hands over your nose and mouth and breathe on them. The first snowflake you spot drifts down, narrowly missing Jungsu's hair, and lands on his cheek--Youngoon makes a show of licking the tiny droplet of moisture off, to laughter and Jungsu's disgusted protests.
"To another year..." Jongoon speaks up, raising his chin to avoid muffling his words in your hair. The snowfall is increasing, leaving the tiny white crystals flecking hair and clothes and eyebrows as you cluster to face each other as best as you can. Sungmin is still carrying his glass with him--you all wind up passing it around and taking a sip, then raising imaginary cups, your hands, your fists in a toast together. You don't know who gives the count, but someone does.
"We are... Super Junior!"
medium : one-shot
rating : PG
pairing : Yehsung x Ryeowook; various
x-posted to miracle______
magnae
They call you at home, one evening, at the dinner table. When the phone rings, it's the last thing you're expecting--they've never called you (hardly anyone does, after all), not even once since you passed the auditions and began training. You're eating when your mother turns to you, with a puzzled expression, and holds the phone out. "It's for you... it's the company."
You don't recognize the voice, but you recognize the name; he introduces himself as Lee Seunghwan, with SM, and you know he's one of the managers for that huge group that's rumored to be about to debut. Over--no, Super something, the last you heard. "This is Kim Ryeowook?" He sounds very focused, and more than a little impatient.
"Yes... yes, that's me." You curl the phone cord around your finger, and turn away from the table where your family watches, curiously.
"We need you in here first thing in the morning. Pack your bags, you'll be moving into the dorms. Bring your parents, if you need them to look over the paperwork."
You can only stare, for a moment, jaw hanging open as you try to summon some intelligent response. Why this, why now? You don't want to live in the dorms, you can't really afford to pay the boarding costs in addition to your lessons right now, anyway. "But, sir, I..."
He cuts you off, sharply. "No 'buts'. We have got one month to get you up to speed, before you walk out on that debut stage with the rest of Super Junior. If you're not up to it, tell me now and I won't waste my time."
"....I..." You stammer, a little helplessly. Debut. It's the one thing everyone's racing after, the one thing everyone's working toward, and you know, you know you'll never make it solo. Your voice instructors say your vocal talent is amazing, but... (there's always that unspoken, awkward look). "...I'll do it." You push the words out in a rush, heart jumping in your throat, palms sweating.
Seunghwan sounds a little bit more pleased than before, when he responds. "Good. I want you in here at 8 AM, sharp. We've got a lot to cover."
You don't know what to say. Debut. Debut. Debut. It's a pulse in your head. "Th-thank you, sir... I mean... really, thank you..." You bow a little, automatically, forgetting that it's just a phone call and he can't see you, then you flush.
"Thank me in a month, Kim Ryeowook. You're going to hate me until then." He laughs, once, dryly. "Oh... and about your weight? You need to be down to 60, at least, before the big day. Lose it fast. I'll see you in the morning."
The line clicks, and you're left sitting there with a red face and dead air and your parents staring at you in frank confusion. You swallow, glance down at your plate, and push it away slightly. "...They... they want me to debut. In a month. I..." You rise from your seat--both of them look too shocked to speak, still. "...I'm not very hungry. I'd better go pack."
- - -
You haven't slept at all--you couldn't. It's 8 AM and you're scurrying meekly down the hall after Seunghwan-sshi, who walks very fast, like he's on a mission. You've reviewed everything you know about the other trainees, in your head, but it isn't much to start with. You don't move in the same circles (you tend to hide in the background, to be honest), but you know their faces and their reputations. You're going to have to live with them.
He leads you into a conference room at the end of the hallway. One of the other managers is waiting there with a folder full of papers, and they both look at you critically as you creep into a seat when directed and sit with your hands in your lap. You work up the nerve to ask, after a few moments of silence, the question that's been nagging at you. "...why me? Why now? It's so sudden..." Your voice trails off into a whisper, as they exchange a look you aren't sure how to read.
"There were some... irreconcilable differences of opinion, yesterday, and one of the boys was pulled from the project. Everything we've been planning for is choreographed for twelve, not eleven." It's the other manager--you don't know his name, but he has glasses and a gentler voice.
Seunghwan makes a noise somewhere in the back of his throat, and pushes a stack of papers toward you. "Here's your contract. Keep your nose clean, don't pick fights, and you'll be fine. And for God's sake, don't piss off Kim Heechul."
You skim the contract, barely reading the words because your mind is spinning. You know about Kim Heechul, of course--there isn't a soul among the trainees who doesn't. You've never been able to decide if he's pretty or ugly (perhaps striking is the best adjective you can think of), but he seems to have some sort of intense personal charisma that draws people to him like moths to a flame despite his remote, icy attitude. At least, you think, you're good at keeping your head down. He's never noticed you yet. You don't pick fights. Debut. Debut. Debut. And you sign your name on the line.
- - -
Meeting them officially is awkward; you've seen them in the halls before, but few show any signs of recognition, and you wonder the whole time how they must feel about a newcomer being swapped in at the last minute, or about someone they've trained with for years being swapped out. Everyone is being rather quiet, and you don't know what to say in the tense atmosphere. Heechul has a tiny split at the corner of his lip and has been slouched on the couch in the corner, with a dark, furious look on his face, ever since Seunghwan led you inside. You think he looked at you hard, for a few moments, then dismissed you entirely. You're furniture, but that's alright.
The oldest of them all (and you wonder what kind of person chooses a stage name that means 'special', or if you're abnormal for not feeling special at all) smiles at you in a way that makes you think of plastic, and you look down at your hands to avoid it. "Jongoonah," he says, "why don't you show him to your room?" He rests a hand on your shoulder in a way that is probably supposed to be reassuring, then moves on past you, detached. Youngoon follows in his wake--usually he's noisy, you can't count the number of times you've heard his voice echoing along the corridors or narrowly avoided being run over when he suddenly rounds a corner, but today he is a silent presence, emanating worry.
Your new roommate is quiet and watchful, neither fat nor thin, tiny hands and trendy clothes, a few years older than you. You think he was an uhljjang; he has that poised look about him. He leads you down the hall, you with your heavy suitcase (you've never lived away from home before, you're afraid you've packed too much but what if you've packed too little?) bumping painfully into your shins, and swings open the door to a double room. The beds are bunked in the corner, and there are dust-free patches on the bare desk, where things have recently been removed. You've taken someone else's place in the group, someone else's bed, someone else's life, and it gives you a little chill. What if you become someone else because of it?
Debut.
- - -
You've lost 7 or 8 kilograms in the past month (the pitched final battle of a long war), running and sweating and rice-and-water starving it off because you knew you didn't have a choice, but it worked and you barely recognize yourself in the mirror, these days, with the way the sharp ridges of your cheekbones stand out like blades under your skin. Donghee eyes you strangely, sometimes, and you think about apologizing but you wouldn't know what to apologize for--if you were funnier or more confident it wouldn't matter what you look like, but your only asset is your voice.
You're back from your debut performance, tired and trembling and sweaty and staring yourself down in the mirror; your eyes are purple-smudged bruises, and you can still taste the sick-sweet traces of vomit on your tongue (it was just nerves, you promised them all, and you weren't the only one to succumb before you took the stage). Youngoon starts pounding on the door while you're still looking for yourself, all boisterous release-of-tension and too-loud voice, so you let yourself out of the bathroom and go to your room, crawling into the safe cavern of your lower bunk to wrap yourself in blankets and try to stop shaking. Everyone's coping in their own ways, tonight.
A hour or two later, the door swings wide, letting the yellow light of the hall in, and Jongoon trips through--he went out drinking with Heechul and some of the others, but you know he's got no tolerance to speak of. You've got your face to the wall and you hear rustling behind you as you wait for the lurching of his weight ascending the ladder, but it doesn't come. Instead, your mattress shifts and he flops down behind you, accompanied by the scent of soju.
"Ryeowookie~" He even sounds drunk, all sing-song and a little giggly. "You should've come out with us~!"
You're still thinking of an excuse when he sighs, dramatically, and slides under the blankets to fit himself snugly to your back. His breath is hot in your hair, and he wraps his arms around you so you couldn't pull away even if you tried. You never did stop shaking, and he must feel it, because he pulls you close and nuzzles the back of your neck. "You're cold..."
You don't know how to reply to save your life, but he doesn't press you any more, merely holding you as you tremble and try to adjust to the furnace-heat of a body wrapped around yours. It's unsettling but nice, and somehow you close your eyes without meaning to, and you dream of mirrors and choking and peeling off layers of skin.
In the morning, he untangles himself, feels your forehead with a cool hand while you're still struggling to wake up, and offers you a tiny, close-mouthed smile. "I know you were on a crash-diet, but it's time to stop." He pulls your blankets off and half-lifts you to your feet, steering you down the hall to the kitchen with an arm around your waist. Hankyung and Sungmin are already there, when he deposits you into a seat at the table--you're too sleepy to resist, so you lay your head down and hope no one asks you to cook. Sungmin starts rubbing your shoulders and chattering about the performance, and before you know it Hankyung slides a bowl of steaming broth in front of you and Jongoon presses a spoon into your hand.
It tastes good.
- - -
It's December, one long blur of filming and recording and rushing from one appearance to another to another, and you're letting yourself into the dorms late one night, coming home from the studio. Your breath leaked white clouds all the way up the street, and now you're trying to warm your nose behind your scarf and fumble your key back into your pocket between gloved fingers as you make your way down the hall. It's dark, but the light in the stairwell is on, and as you near it you hear low voices coming from somewhere around the corner, and your steps slow.
You can scarcely make out the words, as soft as they are, but you catch snippets--a hushed 'back now', a murmured 'but he', and something about the tone makes you come to a full stop. One of the voices is Heechul, you realize with a surge of alarm, and you think you really should back away, go out the door, and make an extra commotion when you come back in, just to let them know you're coming, but you don't.
"--dammit, Rella..." It's the voice you don't recognize that drops into a low groan, before soft, wet noises cut it off.
Whatever possesses you to steal a peek around the corner, into that stairwell, is a bad, bad thing. You don't believe the noises could possibly be what they sound like, but your misconceptions are corrected the moment you see the man--is that Jay Kim?--pinning Heechul against the wall, head bent to meet his just so, and you can't see their faces but you don't need to, now.
Your own face is flaming as you backtrack hurriedly out of the building and into the street, wandering until you come to a coffee shop that hasn't closed yet, where you creep inside for the warmth and stay until Youngoon finds you, a couple hours later. You don't tell him why you're there, but he takes a long look at you and doesn't ask.
- - -
Every time you see Heechul, you can't help ducking your head and blushing. It's made you second-guess everything, but most of all Jongoon. You know they used to be closer, you've seen a lot of old pictures of them, and now you wonder if he might be that way too. You can't help the way you go tense when he slips into your bed to cuddle, some nights, and you know he's frowning but he doesn't say anything about it. Eventually, you come to realize he's stopped, and you almost think you've started to miss the way he used to make silly bids for your attention. You're a little more invisible than ever, now, and you're not sure it's a relief.
The company wants you all to move to a new building (you won't all fit in one apartment, so they've set aside two) and you can't help but be aware of the drama sparked when Donghae tells Heechul he'd rather live with everyone else and Heechul's lost his excuse to stay exactly where he is, because they have their fight in your kitchen and half the dishes end up broken before they're through. Somehow, you assumed Jongoon would still be your roommate, though, and you trail silently after him into the biggest bedroom, but all four beds have bags on them and you try to back out before anyone sees you standing there awkwardly. Sungmin comes up behind you in the hall to wrap an arm around your shoulders and announce, brightly, that he needs a roommate. It's okay, though; you like Sungmin, and it's silly to feel so disrupted over a simple move, even if you do have to learn someone else's habits all over again like the steps to a new dance.
Donghee brings home an American movie, one night, and the next time you dance (shyly, unthinkingly), everyone cracks up. "Wax on, wax off," someone shouts, and even you have to admit the resemblance and laugh.
Jongoon doesn't really look at you unless he has to, and your conversations these days are limited to bland good-mornings.
You let it pass, because you don't like to make scenes, and maybe he's just busy, or maybe you're just not very interesting and he got tired of you (you try to ignore the accusing little voice that says you pushed him away yourself). There's a lot to keep you occupied, with lessons and all, and you're not even as busy as many of the others, so you help around the apartment when you can. On the nights that you make ramen for everyone, you pretend not to notice when he consistently finds somewhere else to eat--you're not a very good cook, you know, but still.
- - -
You've never liked ghost stories that much--they give you the creeps. But you're acting in one, now, and it's a little eerie to watch the lines between acting and reality blur. Everyone's telling all the spooky stories they know, to get in the mood, and it seems like someone is always marathoning horror movies. Jungsu won't let you hide in your room all the time, either, so you occasionally get dragged out to watch them, and he calls it group bonding.
It surprises you, a little, to realize that Heechul (with his brashness, his nonconformity, his self-reliance) is nervous in the face of ghost stories, too. You're tucked under a blanket between Jungsu and Sungmin (who is himself next to Donghee) on the couch, and Youngoon is on the floor with Hankyung and Heechul, while Shiwon leans in the entrance to the hallway and delays leaving just a little longer. There's a growing, ominous pulse of thunder from the movie's soundtrack, then the moonlight (on screen) catches a hanging corpse behind the unaware protagonist, and Heechul yelps loud enough to make everyone jump. The tension is broken with laughter, because Heechul has his face buried against Youngoon's side, and those two immediately start shoving and swatting at each other until Jungsu bounces a pillow off Youngoon's head and suggests they quiet down.
By the end of the movie, Jungsu is sleeping on your shoulder, and it's really too much trouble to move, so you don't.
You're still sitting there, half-awake in the dark living room, when Donghae and Hyukjae and Jongoon get home; you close your eyes quickly and feign sleep as they shuffle toward one of the bedrooms, but someone's footsteps pause in front of the couch, and you can hear light breathing, a creak of the floor as weight shifts. The scent of Jungsu's cologne is very strong in your nostrils, all of a sudden--you're trying so hard not to sneeze that it keeps you from betraying yourself with a startled jump when fingertips ghost over your brow and smooth your hair back out of your eyes. The floor creaks again, you hear a sigh so quiet you might have imagined it, and then the footsteps pad away down the hall.
- - -
Thailand is chaotic and exotic and hot, from the moment you step off the plane, and everyone is buzzing with excitement. There are cameras and crews everywhere, it seems, between assorted news reports and several shows, and you're never going to get used to them following you around so much, but you don't feel as skittish as you used to when the lens turns in your direction.
You wanted to sit next to Jongoon on the flight over, but you weren't brave enough to ask someone else to move, and he wasn't looking at you (being rather more intensely interested in his CD case). Youngoon came up behind you while you were still standing there, and steered you into a different row, next to him. You think he and Jungsu might have exchanged a significant look, but they do that a lot and you would rather imagine it had nothing to do with you.
It isn't until after dinner (during which Jongoon is testy and inconsistent and snaps at Heechul, which earns him a slap on the arm that doesn't look at all gentle), after everyone else goes down to the pool for another round of filming and relaxation (you beg a headache and stay in your room; you can't swim anyway), after they've all come back noisy and smelling of chlorine, that Youngoon flops himself onto your bed and ruffles your hair with one hand, rousing you from a near-drowse.
You lie there quietly for a minute, in no particular hurry to speak, but he goes on rubbing the back of your neck and right between your shoulderblades; it brings to mind a memory from years ago--you were 8 or 9 years old, maybe, and down with a particularly virulent stomach flu, and your dad sat up late with you one night, rubbing your back just like this. It makes you smile and grimace at the same time, and hide your face in the pillow. The fans like to call Eeteuk and Kangin the mother and father of the group, and the longer you've known them, the more they've settled into the roles. Kibum may be the youngest in age, but you're somehow still the magnae, by virtue of your latecomer status.
"Hyung?" You venture to talk, after a time, teeth worrying at your lower lip. "Does--... Has Jongoon-hyung said--... Is he ok?"
Youngoon's hand pauses for a moment, then gives your shoulder a squeeze. "I was hoping you might know what's wrong."
You can't help but deflate--they share a room, he must know more than you, whom Jongoon will barely look at. You're quiet for so long that he nudges you, then you shake your head. "No, hyung... I don't." It's true, sort of... you don't know anything, you can only guess at the reasons and blame yourself, and you don't know how to fix it or whether you dare to try.
You're lost in introspection when Youngoon puts you in a headlock and noogies the top of your head, and what are you supposed to do to that? Somehow, by the time he's made you beg for mercy, you feel a little lighter at heart, and when he suggests teaming up on Jungsu, you grin and agree. Between the two of you, you catch Jungsu offguard--Youngoon pins him down for you to land a peck on his cheek--then follow him to the next room, where Hyukjae and Sungmin help tickle him until he can't breathe. You were hoping Jongoon might have been planning to make the bedtime rounds with him, because, because... at least you might have been able to catch his eye. Right? Lacking that, you trail obediently through the halls after Youngoon and try not to feel as silly as you're sure you look.
When morning comes, the first thing you're aware of is a weight flopping onto your bed. You've barely begun to convince your eyes to open when a hand brushes your cheek and you breathe in the scent of Jongoon's aftershave, suddenly strong on your tongue. You turn your face away, reflexively, trying to clear the haze from your mind and assure yourself that it's perfectly natural to recognize the smell. By the time you've gotten your eyes open and raised your head, he has his back to you again, and doesn't turn around even when you whisper (daringly for you) "Hyung... hyung!" under the noise of the others' conversation.
It's useless, so you roll over and go back to sleep when they leave, and ignore the later commotion of their return... at least until they all dogpile you and then take half the hair off your leg with a roll of duct tape.
It feels like you're always looking at him, these days. You look at him, he looks at Hyukjae, you sit next to Hyukjae, he avoids you both, Sungmin looks at you funny, Hyukjae doesn't look at anyone, and Jungsu and Youngoon just look at each other. You wish all of this would stop.
- - -
When you get a text-message from Minsung-hyung to gather at headquarters for a group meeting, you aren't expecting all the other managers to be there too, looking serious. Serious looks from managers make you nervous, and you're not the only one who's suddenly fidgeting or frowning or sneaking glances at Jungsu's face in case he knows something (but his eyes are narrowed in that way that usually means he's as lost as you and doesn't like it).
By the time the last car arrives with Kibum and Heechul, straight from the Nonstop set, fingers are tapping impatiently against the wood of the table and Donghae has gone to sleep, head in his arms. You're tempted to try the same, but it's too late, and Hyukjae is already prodding him awake.
"Upper management has decided..." Kibum (the elder) enunciates carefully, "...that we are adding a thirteenth member to Super Junior."
The universal response is a dumbfounded 'What?!', because while things have been too smooth lately and everybody has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, this isn't quite what anybody was prepared for. If they're adding someone now, which of you will be the first to go?
Jungsu is steepling his fingers in front of his mouth, brow furrowed, and listening very intently as Minsung talks about plans and the future and the importance of being prepared for anything, because everyone, everyone has known from the start this was planned to be a project group. Heechul is twitchy and dead-silent, but listening no less carefully, and while Shiwon and Hankyung are showing no particularly overt signs of tension, when you drop your water-bottle and bend down to get it you see their tightly linked hands beneath the table.
After almost 40 minutes of discussion and concerns and questions, the conversation is just going in circles, and Seunghwan stands up. "I'm bringing him in," he says, and there is abruptly dead silence. "His name is Cho Kyuhyun. He was scouted by Chin Chin." Like you; Seunghwan meets your gaze, to be sure you know it, too.
As soon as he steps out of the room, Jungsu straightens in his chair, subtly, and casts a long look around the table. It says best behavior, everyone, and frowns disappear.
Seunghwan returns with a tall, handsome boy (he doesn't look younger, at all, but that's what they've told you) who clutches a sheaf of papers in his hands and lingers in the doorway uncertainly for a moment. You remember, very suddenly, your awkward introduction to the others, and realize there is an empty chair next to you--the only one remaining in the room. The new boy gives a jerky little nod and makes for it. You catch his eye, just before he sits down, and offer a smile and a soft greeting. "I'm Ryeowook..."
He looks surprised, then faintly embarrassed--someone across the table titters and it only occurs to you then that of course he knows who you are. "Pleased to meet you, hyung." His voice is surprisingly deep, for someone so young.
- - -
Everything's in an uproar, today. People are moving in, people are moving out, you're the only one who hasn't switched rooms or apartments, and Heechul has been complaining (loudly) since 7 am because there isn't really room for his enormous bed in the bedroom they're to be sharing and no one wants to disassemble it and try to move it up the stairs. No one breathes a word about moving Jungsu's special mattress into your room, though--everyone has seen him wincing since the accident. You aren't sure how you feel about two foreign girls moving into the room off the kitchen for a few weeks, especially since you're supposed to stay out of sight when the crews are filming.
The best part of it all, you have to admit, is Hankyung's cooking. It's been a long time since all twelve--thirteen, now, the head-count still throws you off--of you have gathered for a meal (not counting traveling), and you're amazed at the sheer volume of food that emerges from the kitchen even after the cooking-smells that have been gathering all afternoon. By the time all the food is in pans and two of the managers have brought an extra few low tables to fold out in the living room, it's after dark.
Heechul drapes himself over Shiwon's side, sleepily, and Hankyung keeps directing every other bite to Heechul's mouth instead of his own. They whisper and giggle a lot. Jungsu appears preoccupied. Youngoon, Donghae and Hyukjae are competing to see who can build the most perverted food-sculpure (well, to be honest Hyukjae's just eating most of his before anyone can judge it), while Sungmin makes disgusted faces and Donghee laughs and offers suggestions. Kibum is eating quietly, like you, but he doesn't really seem interested in what's going on, or perhaps he just masks it better. Kyuhyun is sitting back, watching everyone else with an expression of mingled fascination and confusion; you can't blame him, it's a lot to take in in a short time. Jongoon just looks tired--he has all day--and leans against the side of the couch.
It worries you a little.
When Heechul props himself up to sit straighter and starts in with a loud critique of Youngoon's 'sculpture', Donghae remarks that, between the two of them, he'd guess Youngoon is more likely to be an authority (Kibum snorts audibly; Shiwon, meanwhile, looks vaguely scandalized). Heechul shouts in protest, launches himself indiscriminately in Donghae's direction, and that side of the table degenerates into a wriggling tangle of limbs. Hankyung patiently moves a few dishes out of the way before anyone's flailing arms can overturn them.
You contemplate the dark circles under Jongoon's eyes, and sneak a couple pieces of your sweet-and-sour pork onto his plate, during all the commotion, because you know he's especially fond of it. He glances over at you, gaze betraying surprise, then looks quickly back down before you can attempt a smile. He does eat the tidbits you passed him, though, and that's enough for you.
- - -
It's the last thing you expect, to be perfectly honest, when someone taps at your door--you thought you were alone in the apartment, after Shiwon suggested taking the girls out to dinner. You've turned your speakers on instead of using your headphones, for a change, and you're singing wordlessly along with a song you've been writing in bits and pieces for a month.
The tapping startles you into a moment of silence, then you turn your music off and run a hand through your hair. "Come in...?" The door swings open to reveal Eva, and you flush despite yourself. "Oh! Sorry, nuna, I... I didn't realize anyone stayed home, I'll turn it down."
"No, no, please!" She waves a hand, then tucks loose hair behind one ear and smiles, apologetic. Her accent is strange, but her words flow smoother than Anya's unwieldy bursts (sometimes, you think Anya is the female version of Heechul, and if they reproduced no one would ever be safe again). "Please don't stop. You have beautiful voice. I heard it, from the other room."
You blink up at her, a little dumbly; she apparently takes that as encouragement, and steps further into the room to take a seat on the floor beside you. "Please, can I listen?" She is older than you, and pretty, and has been nothing but nice to you even though you rarely come into the living room or speak to the girls at all, and how are you really supposed to deny her a direct request?
So you turn your music back on, duck your head, and explain (rather shyly). "This isn't very good, it's not finished..." If you close your eyes, you can pretend no one is listening and pick up the thread where you left off.
"That was very beautiful," she remarks, after you finish the song. "You.. made it? Wrote it?"
"Yes..." You don't entirely know what else to say, but it doesn't seem to bother Eva.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin atop them. "Do you write music a lot? For everyone?"
"No, I... it's just for myself... I have to get better." You find yourself mirroring her pose, unconsciously, and force yourself to lean back against the edge of the bed. "..Nuna, why didn't you go to dinner with the others?"
She shrugs her shoulders slightly, and angles a glance over at you. "When everyone is together, sometimes it is too loud. Why didn't you?"
You hesitate for a moment, then smile, wryly. "The same, I guess."
By the time the others come home flushed and sweaty from drinking at a noraebang, three hours later, you have learned all about Eva's family in two countries (you remind her of her youngest cousin, she says) and what it's like to really travel. She has learned your dance steps for Miracle (well, most of them--you both laugh too hard to get all the way through it) and that you got turned down by the company once because of your weight.
When she leaves, you think, it'd be nice to keep in touch.
- - -
China is somehow both everything and not at all what you were expecting, and yet it fascinates you (in particular) to experience the alien feeling of being set adrift in a bubble of incomprehension. It's different than Thailand was, and you can't put your finger on how. You wish, for a moment, that you could walk away from the other members and the managers and all the coordis and maybe understand what it's like to be Hankyung, a little better. He has been chattering almost constantly since you all arrived, taking over as the confident frontman--it's like a dam has been breached and every word he's been saving up is flooding out of him while the rest of you can only gape at his sudden eloquence.
Kyuhyun, too, surprises you when he says a few words to the fans in clear (if perhaps a little slow) Mandarin. All you can remember how to say is 'I'm Ryeowook', but you've never said much else, even at home. As for Kyuhyun, both Shiwon and Hankyung turn to look at him, when he does--Hankyung is smiling, Shiwon's expression is rather harder to read.
- - -
Back at home, Anya and Eva have moved into another residence and life has reorganized itself again--the taping isn't over yet, but your schedules are too unconventional to be easy on the girls, who have classes to attend and lives of their own. You think the managers might also have gotten too nervous about the co-ed living situation ever since the night Youngjoon-hyung dropped in on a slumber party in the living room, a lot of soju, and Anya putting Heechul in a wrestling hold in the middle of the floor while he squealed. Now, you and Sungmin are sharing a room again, but you've squeezed an extra bed in for Kyuhyun (you're not sure why, as he usually just crawls in with Sungmin regardless).
It's just eight of you here tonight--nine if you count Donghae on the phone with his family in the other room. Jungsu is drowsing on the couch with a hand over his eyes and his sock-feet (pink Doraemon, today) resting in Youngoon's lap. Hankyung has stretched out on the floor on his stomach, and Kyuhyun is using a spot in the curve of his lower back as a pillow while Shiwon fidgets near Youngoon's legs and Heechul cuddles with Jongoon, wrapped in a Winnie-the-Pooh blanket.
Heechul is arguing animatedly about girlfriends, with anyone who will listen, and you're watching the whole thing from the doorway to the kitchen, waiting for your tea to heat. Shiwon opens his mouth and starts to say something; you can't catch what, because Heechul cuts him off with a dirty look and a scathing tone. "And no, Rose doesn't count, whatever he thinks he is." He manages to turn the name into an epithet--Shiwon just turns red and looks down (you are reminded of an incident some time ago, beginning with a picture or two going around cyworld and ending with Heechul throwing a water bottle at Shiwon's head and refusing to speak to him for three days).
There is an awkward beat of silence, but then Jungsu speaks without opening his eyes. "So what do you think, Heechul?"
Appearing mildly taken aback, Heechul pauses, then frowns down at his hands and speaks, voice suddenly halting. "I think.. that the way we live, right now.... it's impossible to get close to someone unless you start to understand them, right? How can you understand someone, if you aren't able to start from some common ground? How can someone understand how important something is to you--why you can't blow it off to go see them, or whatever--if they have no real idea what you went through to get to that point?"
The microwave beeps obnoxiously into the silence, and you slink over to fetch your cup and spoon some sugar in, an ear still trained on the living room.
When you return, Hankyung has propped himself up on his elbows. "Maybe this is true, Heechul-hyung. But... we are, we are all... together, we..." His words are floundering, a little, and he looks to Shiwon (as is his habit)--the younger straightens his shoulders and listens intently to the sibillant string of syllables that follows.
"In the end, when it comes down to it..." Shiwon pauses, looking to Hankyung in some silent question, and Hankyung nods. "...all of us are each other's strongest support. The ones who understand the most. Please don't forget that." He smiles, and the intonation he adopts when relaying something from one language to the other settles into his usual speaking voice. "I like that, hyung... I really like that."
- - -
You're back from Malaysia, back from filming the new MV and shooting for the photobook, back from the concert with TVfXQ; Hyukjae has been nothing but smiles since seeing Junsu again (even if they did have to rush away to catch their flight, too quickly to even give an encore), and as pleased as Donghae and Heechul were to pile onto Yunho in an enormous hug when they caught him in the dressing room just before the show, it pales in comparison to the way Heechul has been beaming ever since he got the word that Inkigayo wants him to MC the next performance of the Trax. Everyone knows Heechul's smirk--his smiles, the brilliant true ones, are much rarer.
Kyuhyun is sprawled on your bed as you sit at your keyboard on the floor--one of these days, you really are going to suggest just getting rid of the third bed in the room so that there's more space to walk; it's not like he ever uses it. The blankets rustle as he rolls onto his back with a sigh (his third), and you turn around to rest your chin on the foot of the bed and look at him questioningly.
There are times when he reminds you very much of a puppy, and this is one of them. "Hyung, can I ask you something?"
You turn the keyboard off and clamber up onto the bed, stretching out beside him--it's your answer.
"How long did it take...?"
"Take?" You're confused. He grimaces, a little, and flops over, burrowing into your side, where his next words are muffled.
"...To stop feeling like an outsider."
Sometimes, you aren't sure you ever have. But you're the hyung, and those moods are passing; you can be more reassuring than that. You smooth his hair down (it never quite lies flat, no matter what they use on it) with one hand, and choose your next words carefully. "Kyuhyunah... there are always going to be little things I didn't share with the others... in-jokes, memories that most everyone remembers and can laugh about, except me." His shoulders have stiffened a little--you give one a squeeze, and continue. "But we've made a lot of memories together, too... all of us, including you."
Kyuhyun is silent for a long time, then nods, face hidden against your chest.
At that moment, the door swings inward--it wasn't latched--and Jongoon pokes his head in, mouth open to say something. He stops dead in the doorway as you look up from petting Kyuhyun's hair, and a look you can't begin to define darkens his eyes (and, if you must admit it, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end).
The look passes quickly, fades to a bland, closed-off expression, but you know it was there, and you barely hear Jongoon say something about management wanting to talk to all three of you soon.
It's one of those times when you think things would be much simpler if everyone just came right out and said what they wanted, because then at least you could make an informed decision.
- - -
Jongoon has been downright moody, the past week or two, vacillating between too-bright cheer and sullen glares, and you've spent a lot of time napping in your room to avoid the worst of it. Too many people are close to losing their tempers with him, though, and it's hard to ignore when you're stuck in the same room, like this radio show (the extra vocal practice sessions you and he and Kyuhyun have been undergoing haven't been a cakewalk, either).
Even Hyukjae, who usually grits his teeth and tolerates Jongoon's touchy-feely impulses with mute longsuffering, has slapped his hands away several times already, and there's a muscle twitching in his jaw. You suspect that if someone doesn't do something soon, the next slap may be less forgiving. Jungsu is sick, slouched at the furthest end of the table next to Youngoon, and you're not really sure he's conscious enough to be aware of the building irritation anyway. Kyuhyun has taken a seat almost as far from Jongoon as he can get and is hiding under his baseball cap--Heechul is too busy whispering to Shiwon and sending Kibum into fits of laughter to pay much attention to your side of the table (or maybe he's just trying to defuse the tension) and Donghae is looking increasingly annoyed with Jongoon's antics every time Hyukjae twitches.
When Hyukjae gets up to dance, you don't stop to ask anyone, you simply move into his seat and give a lame excuse about your headphones not working. Jongoon stiffens, at the end of the table next to you--you try to catch his eye, but he won't meet yours. He's still pretending to ignore you when you pick up a pen and start doodling on the margin of the paper in front of you, but as you let apparently random scribbles etch themselves into words, you know he's sneaking glances.
'We need to talk, hyung', you write, and 'after the show'.
'Please'. You keep right on sketching, obscuring the words a little at a time until nothing can be read of your message, but a glance at Jongoon reveals his head bowed, expression pensive. Afterwards, Donghae seems to be making a special point of wrapping his arm around Hyukjae's shoulders and cuddling against his side. Jongoon is subdued, but he's not looking at them.
If nothing else, he knows how to put a good face forward when he sings, and the three of you--you, Jongoon, and Kyuhyun--don't sound like the extra lessons have gone to waste.
After the end of the program, you're back at home; Sungmin and Kyuhyun have already vanished for safer ground. You thought you were being subtle, but maybe Donghae saw the messages you were writing and decided to help matters along.
There is a polite knock at the door--you call a welcome, and Jongoon sidles in to take a seat on the corner of one of the beds, warily. You shift, rub your bare arms, and swallow. This was your fault from the beginning, even if he only complicated things, and you've let it get entirely too far out of hand.
"Hyung?" You start, uncertainly. If you do this, if you willingly remove yourself from the sidelines and step into the game, you won't be able to go back to observing. But maybe you were deluding yourself about observing from the start. "I think I need to apologize..." You cut him off before he can question you, an involuntary blush rising to your cheeks. "...for jumping to conclusions, in the past, and for not asking questions."
Jongoon stares at you, brow furrowed; he doesn't look like he knows what to say.
So, you risk it. "And hyung... maybe you've done the same thing." Three beats of silence (you squirm). "So... I'd really like it if we could give it a fresh start, or try a bit harder, or something." You hold out your hand to him, somewhat shyly. "...Hi, I'm Ryeowook, and I miss being your friend."
- - -
You're both a little awkward around each other, but you're trying. Jongoon will look at you again without jerking his eyes away the moment you catch him, and when he slings an arm tentatively around your shoulders, you try to simply relax into the support--his arms feel different than they used to; bulkier, and you've spotted the definition in his chest and abdomen forming for months.
He must have noticed you watching, because he leans over to murmur in your ear in the dressing room, tone a mixture of uhljjang pride and something else (craving for approval, perhaps?). "I've been working out."
You look down at yourself, bird-boned and slouched, and pull your shirt on quickly, with a rueful laugh. "I've been sleeping." It takes a conscious effort to turn back to him, a moment later, and offer an apologetic glance. "It looks good on you, hyung."
It's worth the faint discomfort, to see the little furrow between his brows relax and a pleased smile spread. You laugh, later, when you see that he's updated his cyworld with a bunch of new pictures of himself--and then you duck down to avoid curious stares from the others in the PCbang, and cover your mouth.
- - -
Things are looking up, you think--Jongoon has been extra-nice to Kyuhyun ever since you apologized (Kyuhyun is careful to flirt outrageously with Sungmin, of course, even if he does steer clear of Hankyung's bed and Shiwon's glares), and you let the others put you and Jongoon together for the plot of the 'fanservice' episode of the mini-drama. It isn't so bad, really, and Jongoon is so campily over-the-top with it all that you can't really get offended when he gropes you a little more than necessary while pretending to brush tacks off your pants and grins cheekily where the camera can't catch it.
You're sitting on the couch, late one night, leaning into Jongoon's side because you've gotten into something of a habit of doing so when he saves you the space to join him, and watching TV (well, resting your eyes, actually--you're really rather comfortable and sleepy). He's draped an arm around you and is tracing idle little patterns with a fingertip on the skin of your upper arm; it's just enough to keep you from drowsing off, and you think if it were anyone but Jongoon doing it, you might find the ticklish touches a bit irritating.
Hyukjae and Donghae wander in and look from the two of you to the TV and back, hopefully. "Are you watching something, hyung, or can we play a game?"
You close your eyes because you weren't really paying attention to the program anyway; Jongoon shifts a little, drawing a deep breath, then gives your arm a faint squeeze. "Go ahead." They both flop onto the floor between the couch and TV, unwinding controllers and making themselves comfortable on a few spare pillows, while you nuzzle a little further into Jongoon's shoulder, cozily.
They're so absorbed in the game, after a few minutes, that you suspect they wouldn't notice if the building burned down around them. It's probably a good thing, because Jongoon's hand is still drifting up and down your arm, the motions slow and sweeping, and you're watching his fingers out of the corner of your eye (somewhat fascinated, you have to admit to yourself). It's starting to get to you in a way you weren't exactly prepared for, and a slight shiver runs down your spine--on one hand, it's a boy, but on the other, it's Jongoon and there's something to be said for that.
He feels the little tremor, and his hand stills, fingers curling further around your arm without increasing in pressure. You aren't sure quite what to make of that, and you tilt your head to angle a questioning glance up at him, but he's looking down at you and his face is much, much nearer than you realized. His eyes look like pools of ink from here--it's a trick of the dim light in the room and the angle you're looking up from, you can't see the smallest distinction between pupil and iris. You can, however, feel his breath on your lips (and smell the curry you both had for dinner, but it's not as distracting as one might think).
Donghae's cellphone rings, he shouts "Pause!" (Hyukjae makes a disgruntled noise) and you both jump nervously--you look away from Jongoon's face and try not to turn bright red.
Donghae is grumbling about disruptions, Hyukjae is poking at his side and accusing him of setting it up somehow because he was about to lose, anyway, but then some indefinable thing in the room changes and Donghae's shoulders have gone rigid. Hyukjae falls silent instantly, and props himself up on his elbows. "...Donghaeyah?"
Donghae scrambles to his feet in a sudden, jerky move, the phone clutched tightly to his ear, and drops the controller unheeded on the floor. He makes for the hallway, but you hear the low cry rising in his throat. "...no, no, no, no, no..."
By the time you and Jongoon are on your feet and peering into the hall, Hyukjae has his arms gingerly around Donghae from behind and a starkly helpless, fearful look on his face you haven't seen before, and someone has opened the bedroom door to check on the commotion.
Jungsu takes one look at Donghae, clinging to the phone with furious, wet eyes, and looks straight at you. "Go get Heechul." You run.
- - -
You're still in Mokpo for the funeral when the next blow hits.
It's Song Kibum who draws the remaining group aside this time, early the morning after Heechul leaves, after taking an extended phone call in the other room. His demeanor is distinctly uneasy, and he clears his throat before speaking. "There's been an accident. Heechul..." From your position in the huddle, you see Donghae's face go absolutely white. Kibum continues quickly, reaching for his shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. "Don't worry... they've taken him to the hospital where it happened. He's stable and they said he was conscious when they brought him in, but they're still running x-rays and checking for.. other injuries." He pauses, looking down. "Right now, we do know his leg is broken. As soon as we know more, we'll keep you informed."
No one has anything to say on the ride back, but you're not the only one who is careful about fastening his seatbelt.
When you get home, Jungsu and Youngoon are waiting--there are blankets and pillows all over the floor of the living room, and no one even mentions going back to the other apartment just yet. Everyone sleeps in a tangle on the floor that night, even those of you who live there, and somehow in the chaos of arms and heads and legs and clinging, Jongoon winds up with his face in your stomach and his arms around you for hours, but it doesn't make you uncomfortable at all.
- - -
You're back in Thailand again--after the concert, they pack you all in a bus and send you to a resort hotel on the beach. It's after 2 in the morning, when you finally get there, and your flight home isn't until late that night. It's sort of a vacation (you suppose) with most of the day free, and it might be the last one you get for a long time. Youngoon is sick and some of the others fall asleep right away due to sheer exhaustion, but sometime around 3, when you're sitting in the hotel bar with Jongoon because neither of you can sleep, Jungsu wanders in with Hyukjae and Sungmin in tow, looking like he's focused somewhere a million miles away and isn't sure how to find the way back. Jongoon waves them over, and after a brief discussion over drinks the seven of you (Shiwon and Hankyung join the table from where they've been conversing quietly in the corner) decide that it's a wonderful night for a stroll on the beach and head out with several six-packs of beer between you.
There is almost no moon, just a razor-edged crescent, but the orange lights of the resort guide your way out onto the sand and along the breakers. Jungsu has his shoes off first--it looks like such a good idea that everyone else joins in, and you're up to your ankles in soft, cool sand before you know it. Shiwon and Hankyung are holding hands casually as they walk ahead of you, and you would think nothing of it if it weren't for the little, incidental touches along the way (shoulders brushing, fingers tangling, a thumb ghosting back and forth along the inside of a wrist, a finger hooking into someone's belt for balance).
You look sidelong at Jongoon around a swallow of beer; he simply smiles and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you closer. It's easy to stumble in the sand, and you almost drop the bag of empty bottles you're carrying when you stagger into his side, but he plants his feet and steadies you, ducks his head and brushes his lips over yours in the process. You're more surprised, than anything, by the peck, but he keeps walking and so you have to as well, if you don't want to fall over, and neither of you says anything for a time.
The sky is beginning to fade from black to a deep blue-gray before Jungsu drops to sit on a half-sunken log in the sand. Sungmin picks a seat cautiously, brushing at the weathered driftwood with one arm of his light jacket first, and Hyukjae stretches out in the sand by their feet, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Hankyung and Shiwon head for the water's edge, standing in ankle-deep waves and splashing around playfully. You leave the bag by one end of the log, bottles clinking inside, and tug Jongoon (by his wrist) for higher ground, slipping and sliding your way up the side of a dune.
At the top, you spread your arms, take a deep breath, and let yourself fall on your back with a grunt--it looks softer than it feels, but the impact is quickly forgotten as the shifting sand cradles you. Jongoon leans over you, looking mildly concerned, and you laugh.
He sits down next to you, so you push yourself up on your hands and give his shoulder a deliberate jostle with your own. Several back-and-forth shoves result in an impromptu wrestling match (you're badly outmatched, but he isn't putting any real effort into it) and you end up half-sprawled across his chest and grinning down at him. You've been wondering if he might think you were angry about the peck on the way, and it seems like a shame to let such a prime opportunity go to waste. You're pretty sure that there's no big difference between kissing a girl and kissing Jongoon, after all, except maybe the look in his eyes when you get this close--the one that looks like he really wants you to do it.
So you do, and it really isn't that different (his lips are soft and warm) except for the slightly scratchy feeling along his jaw and the knowledge that this is Jongoon and the way that his tongue brushing glancingly against the tip of yours sends a frisson down your spine.
Someone coughs, further down the hill--you think it's Jungsu's subtle reminder that you're not alone out there--and you pull apart reluctantly.
By the time you all stumble back into the hotel, the sun is just peeking over the edge of the horizon. You're exhausted (you're lucky, frankly, to make it into the elevator, with how appealing the couches in the lobby look) and Jongoon practically steers you down the hall because you don't feel like opening your eyes or worrying about finding your room or doing much of anything at all. You fall asleep without so much as trying to undress, first, and Jongoon wraps himself around you like a blanket.
- - -
One night, after returning from a performance, you're slouched in the living room watching a movie with Jongoon and Donghae (who is even more fidgety than usual), while the others have either left for schedule or gone to bed. Jongoon's phone buzzes, and when he picks it up, you can distinctly hear a girl's voice, greeting 'oppa' cheerfully.
Fans do get your mobile numbers and call you sometimes, but he isn't making a polite excuse and hanging up. Instead, he gets up from the couch and wanders out of the living room with a smile. You watch him go, puzzled; Donghae is talking to you but you don't really hear it. Jongoon is on the phone for forty minutes before he finally hangs up, and you don't stop chewing on your thumbnail until you finally see his shadow moving back toward the end of the hall.
"Who was that, hyung?" You try for innocence, but judging from the amused glance he gives you as he rejoins you on the couch, you miss.
"A classmate from high school, that's all." He reaches over to tug lightly on a stray strand of your hair, and you wave his hand away. "Ryeowookie~" He sing-songs at you, grins wider, and smacks a noisy kiss on your forehead. Maybe you are a little jealous, but now it seems silly.
At the other end of the couch, Donghae is busy ignoring both of you (slumping down further with his arms folded over his chest), when footsteps clatter through the front entrance and Kibum sticks his head in the door, looking unusually awake. "Hyung!" He looks to Donghae first, then Jongoon. "I just got a call from Changmin, they're at the hospital. Some girl, an anti... she tried to poison Yunho-hyung with a drink."
Donghae just stares, for a few moments, expression wilting pathetically.
By the time you get to the other apartment, Heechul's cursing is audible from the hallway, a stunned litany as he hunches over his computer on the living room floor and follows every tidbit of news he can find as sites update. Jay Kim, sleep-tousled and looking utterly confused, is sitting behind him and squinting to read the screen over his shoulder; Hankyung gets home a few minutes later, and the explanations have to be repeated yet again after Jay wakes up enough to call Jungmo.
It takes both Donghae and Hankyung cajoling and Jongoon and Kibum physically dragging Heechul back to his bed and taking his crutches away, to keep him from trying to catch a cab to the hospital and camp out there all night. Finally, Jay, Kibum, and Donghae all climb into the big bed with him to ensure he stays, and Hankyung busies himself cooking in the kitchen despite the hour. The angry protests emitting from the bedroom, at least, have quieted by the time Jongoon tugs you out the door to return home.
It isn't until sometime the next afternoon, after the worst of the chaos has settled, that you remember it's Donghae's birthday.
- - -
Jongoon and Sungmin have traded rooms; it's more convenient for everyone, considering how often you, Jongoon, and Kyuhyun have rehearsal or schedule together (not to mention that Jongoon was staying with you most nights anyway). Kyuhyun pouted for awhile at the loss of his usual sleeping-partner, but has taken up just crawling in with the two of you sometimes, and Jongoon doesn't complain. It's a little crowded, three people on a narrow bed like the ones you have, but you've grown accustomed to sleeping with arms around you, limbs draped over you, and occasional wandering hands (although Jongoon has discovered you'll shove him out of bed if he tries it when Kyuhyun's there--Kyuhyun just laughed and made a point of disappearing, on some nights after that, even though it really wasn't necessary).
When they first told you that the three of you would be debuting together as K.R.Y., you were a little afraid that it meant your activities with the group as a whole would come to an end, but you have to admit this is the type of singing you've wanted to do from the beginning. It's here, for the first time, that you're really able to feel like you contribute something irreplaceable to the group as a whole.
It's been one year since you first walked out on the stage for Twins with your heart racing and your palms sweating and your stomach doing nervous flipflops. Kyuhyun looks a little down, during the party, until Youngoon announces that (one way or another) you're going to have another party at the end of the month, because it will have been six months since Kyuhyun joined you, by then.
You've started saying more than 'I'm Ryeowook' in public, somewhere along the way, and you kind of like your hair now. You kind of like the person you see in the mirror, too, even if you don't spend nearly as much time in front of it as Jongoon does. In pictures, you think you look the happiest when he's there, too, and there have been a lot of those lately.
It's been a good year, you think (with Jongoon's warm, solid presence at your shoulder and his hand curled around your wrist), despite a hundred setbacks--no one really expected you all to come this far, this fast, in the face of everything that's happened. You smile at him, in the dim light; the occasion was deemed suitable for candles and Sungmin and Donghee turned out all the lights in the apartment together when everyone gathered in the living room. Hankyung is on the phone with Shiwon (no one wanted him to miss the anniversary, even if he did have to go to Hong Kong) near the balcony doors when he exclaims in surprise and Heechul rolls his head lazily back to look at him, from where he's draped himself across Youngoon's legs.
"Snow, snow! It is snowing!" Hankyung points out the glass, tapping a finger against it, then fumbles at the latch and slides the door open. A chilly gust of breeze curls into the room; everyone is clambering to their feet and outside in slippers and socks (Hankyung is barefoot and hops from one to the other restlessly), crowding onto the balcony and staring upward. With twelve of you (and a phone) packed out there, shoulder-to-shoulder-to-shoulder, at least it's almost warm. Jongoon wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder; you cup your own hands over your nose and mouth and breathe on them. The first snowflake you spot drifts down, narrowly missing Jungsu's hair, and lands on his cheek--Youngoon makes a show of licking the tiny droplet of moisture off, to laughter and Jungsu's disgusted protests.
"To another year..." Jongoon speaks up, raising his chin to avoid muffling his words in your hair. The snowfall is increasing, leaving the tiny white crystals flecking hair and clothes and eyebrows as you cluster to face each other as best as you can. Sungmin is still carrying his glass with him--you all wind up passing it around and taking a sip, then raising imaginary cups, your hands, your fists in a toast together. You don't know who gives the count, but someone does.
"We are... Super Junior!"