#19 [SNSD/SUPER JUNIOR. HYOYEON/DONGHAE]
Fandom: snsd/super junior
Title: this bird has flown
Rating: pg
Pairing(s): hyoyeon/donghae, past!hyoyeon/eunhyuk
Length: 2608
Summary: hyukjae notices things a little too late. second person pov.
Remixee author: compatable
Title of work you remixed: possibility
Link to work you remixed: http://hairlip.livejournal.com/4908.html#cutid1
2001
You take Donghae to meet her a few days after he arrives. She’s sweaty, hair and clothes sticking to the sides of her tiny, lanky body, but she stops with a smile and introduces herself as Kim Hyoyeon. You smile back, bowing low, and for some reason, she moves closer to your side. You feel naked-the weight of Junsu’s absence-and blush furiously. “This is Donghae,” you stutter, and he links arms with you, as if he can sense your nerves.
Hyoyeon laughs, and your brain draws a blank. She fills the gap by turning the music back on and giving the two of you a playful grin. Your feet are fluid, fast, and only barely skimming the floor that you almost trip. You don’t even know why you’re trying so hard.
A few months later, you take Hyoyeon to an ice cream parlor and try kissing her with chocolate-stained lips. She thinks it’s a joke, pushes your face away, and you drown your first heartbreak in hours of Mariokart. Junsu promises to share Jun Jihyun with you when you’re both crazy famous, and it dulls the pain a little.
Sometimes, when it’s after midnight and you’ve had too much to drink, you’ll stare at her number on your phone and wonder what could have been. When you come to your senses you realize she deserves better.
2003
The day they announce the newest group, you lock yourself in your bedroom and stare at the ceiling. You want to do something-slam doors, throw pillows, cry into one-but you’re so overwhelmed with emotion that your body’s in an uneasy stalemate.
You tell yourself you’re not special, that the company puts groups together and breaks them apart without blinking. You’re not the only one who was weeks from debut once, who watched friends debut before them. But you’re in no mood to be rational, and you roll on your side instead, pulling your phone from your pocket.
It’s only then that you realize that you can’t-don't want, even-to call Junsu. You set the phone next to your pillow and pull your hands over your face. Just a stupid pipe dream, you think to yourself, and get up to lock the door before anyone figures out your hiding spot.
It takes twenty minutes for your phone to ring; Junsu, you guess, or even Sungmin. “Hello,” you say wearily, contemplating whether or not to hang up as soon as you answer.
“Hey.” It’s Hyoyeon. “I heard the news. I’m sorry.”
You pull your face out of your pillow, sitting up. “It’s not your fault,” you mutter.
“I know, but-“ she sighs. “I remember how badly you two wanted to debut together.”
“Can’t have everything.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and you feel terribly responsible. “Listen,” she says, finally. “My mom made kimchi stew and I figured you could use some real food, if you want to come down to the lobby.” You can sense something strange in her voice, but she knows you too well, knows you’ll run down the stairs for a home-cooked meal.
She’s not lying, at least-there’s a Tupperware container in her hands, but she’s flanked on either side by Sungmin and Donghae, holding a few soju bottles (where did they get those?) and a tiny ice cream cake. You consider running back up the stairs until you lock eyes with Sungmin. Only his lips are smiling, and god, you’re selfish. “Let’s go upstairs,” you say softly, and they nod, Donghae wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
Between the now strangely painful H.O.T. songs on the radio, between the complete absence in Sungmin’s eyes, it hits you that you can’t remember the last time you saw Hyoyeon and Donghae sitting together. They exchange looks sometimes before glancing at you, asking you questions but never speaking to each other. For a moment, you remember there’s more in the world than failed debuts and missing best friends and wonder, frowning, how they don't know each other at all.
But then there’s a knock at the door and you dash to hide the alcohol.
2005
“Congratulations,” she says.
“Thanks,” you respond.
“Good luck,” she says.
“I’ll try.”
It’s a stupid conversation. What you really want to say is don’t worry, this will happen for you, too, but you know that’s just as meaningless as the pleasantries. You breathe into the phone instead, as awkward and childish as ever even though your debut stage is right behind a curtain. “Tell everyone else I said good luck, too,” she adds sheepishly. Jungsu pats your shoulder and holds up five fingers.
“I’ve gotta go,” you yell, “Let’s choreograph something, okay?” You think you hear a faint “sure” before she hangs up.
2007
Hyoyeon debuts two years after you, seven years after she came to the company. You go to see her after their first performance, yelling out your congratulations before you blend into the wall. They’re happy to see you, but they’re happier about the performance, jumping up and down or collapsing into chairs from the weight of it all. Hyoyeon breaks away from hugging Seohyun to sit next to you, panting and smiling.
“Donghae came by earlier,” she says. You remember him mentioning it; he hadn’t had as many recordings as you. “He said my hair will help me stand out.” She runs a few fingers through her bangs, pushing them back. “Like his.”
It takes a moment for you to realize what she means by his hair, and you laugh loudly enough for Taeyeon to turn around. “You don’t want to stand out like that,” you say, grinning. She smiles back, but something about it makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong. “I mean, you do stand out-your solo dance is great. But Donghae’s hair was disgusting, you don’t want to be like him at all.” You shake your head. “I can’t believe he said that, what a moron.” You look up to find Hyoyeon’s disappeared behind her hair again, and you realize you’ve been babbling like an idiot for what seems like an eternity.
Tiffany tugs on Hyoyeon’s hand for a picture and she gives you a tiny smile before she’s whisked away. “Thanks for coming, oppa,” she says simply, turning around, and something about her still feels stiff.
You never do get around to apologizing.
2008
It’s not really a surprise that they pick Donghae for Girls’ Generation’s third video-DBSK’s busy in Japan, and out of the thirteen of you, he’s got the least offending hairstyle. He spouts some nonsense about his looks--I got cast for my pretty face, after all, he sings--but you stick by the hair theory, or maybe the Siwon-had-a-recording postulate. As long as it’s not you in the preschool-play outfits; you already did Super Junior Trot.
But Donghae-for all his faults-is a better person than you. “We can catch up,” he says, shrugging, and leaves for the shoot with a smile. You roll back into bed and sleep until three, the first normal thing you’ve done in weeks.
Donghae comes back smiling, but not as warmly; he quickly puts a pot of noodles on the stove and sits at the counter, tracing circles on the top. “Tired?” you ask, still in your pajamas, eyes throbbing from too many hours of staring at screens.
He shakes his head, his hair still stiff from product. “Worried,” he says, mouth finally dropping into a frown. “About them, I mean.”
“They’re going for cute, right?” you say. “Everyone loves that.”
“It’s not-“ he stops, reaching for the words. “They’re embarrassed. It’s like-imagine if we had to do a slumber party concept.” You grimace, and Donghae holds up his phone, the screen showing a photo of Jessica pouting in a frilly pink dress. You try imagining Hyoyeon in the same outfit, hair back in princess buns, but your brain doesn’t cooperate. It occurs to you that you haven’t talked in weeks, let alone seen her. “How was Hyoyeon?” you ask, even though you know the answer already (or should, after eight years of friendship).
Donghae sighs, resting his head on his arms. “She didn’t smile.”
2009
The first time they win for Gee, Jungsu calls Taeyeon and puts his phone on speaker so the seven of you can scream fanchants into her ears. The wins pile up and you congratulate them at Sukira, in the hallways of the SM Building, anywhere you see them; it feels good not to worry anymore.
You’re there for their ninth win, ditching the pajamas (at last) for flashy suits and flashier choreography. Tiffany introduces you and the crowd goes nuts during the dance break; you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to be proud of your work. During the encore, you stand in front of the crowd and smile, struck dumb by the feeling as Donghae high-fives and screams into mics.
Your eyes are closed on the ride home until he leans on your shoulder, tapping the side of your ribcage. “Hyukkie,” he whispers. “Hyoyeon looked cute tonight, didn’t she?”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Where did that come from?”
He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”
You glance at his face, not sure if he’s messing with you or just talking to keep himself awake. “I guess so,” you say, and lean against the window.
.
You probably wouldn’t have found out if it weren’t for Minho’s surprise party. Jinki calls you and Donghae a few weeks before, and you’re more than happy to help, particularly if it involves smashing cakes in the faces of hoobaes. Donghae volunteers to buy decorations with Sunyoung and you’re on inviting duty, calling everyone in the company as soon as your tapings end.
Hyoyeon’s last on the list, after the rest of her group and Minho’s costars on Dream Team. It takes two rings for her to pick up; she must not have a recording today. “Hey, oppa,” she says. “It’s late.”
“I know, sorry about that.” You wince. “I’ve been busy all day, but um, Jinki asked me to invite people to Minho’s surprise party next week. We’re getting an ice cream cake, and I think Donghae’s going to buy-“
“Donghae’s going?”
You laugh. “He’s getting decorations on Thursday.”
“Oh.” You hear her moving around on the other line. “I’ll ask manager oppa about my schedule in the morning and get back to you, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Goodnight, oppa.”
“Night, Hyoyeon.”
Sungmin sits next to you at the kitchen table, putting a plate of fried rice in between you. You look down at your guest list as soon as you hang up, your eyes scrolling through the names-Hyoyeon’s the first one from her group not to say yes immediately.
You’re not nearly as stupid as you pretend to be. Sure, you forgot to look both ways when you cross the street and your grades never were all that great, but you’re not the dunce you become when the audience needs an extra laugh. Or, well, that’s what you’d like to think.
You sit next to Donghae during practice, letting your legs settle as he sips from his water bottle. “Hey,” you say, and he looks over slowly. “Did anything happen with you and Hyoyeon?”
Donghae’s grip on the bottle slips; he catches it just before it hits the ground. “No,” he says, his lips twisting. “I mean, I don’t know. I never see her anyway, so I wouldn’t know if I did anything, you know?”
You narrow your eyes. “So you didn’t slap her.”
Donghae shoots you a mortified look. “Hyukjae,” he says, voice mock-dramatic, “I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Just checking,” you say, pushing his face away when he gives you puppy eyes. “She might not make it to Minho’s”-you look around-“meeting.”
Donghae’s face straightens suddenly. “Huh,” he says, shrugging. “Must be busy.”
.
Jessica walks into your makeup room at the end of your latest Strong Heart recording, bag hanging off her wrist and eyes scanning both ends of the hallway. “Got a minute?” she asks, but the look on her face means it’s rhetorical, and you nod without thinking. She leans against your counter and sighs.
“Good job today,” you say. She laughs, and you’re not sure what’s so funny. “You remember Donghae’s drunk-kissing habit, right?” she says, as if you never spoke at all.
“Reason number 1 I cling to Sungmin at band parties? Of course.” It takes a moment, but the question sinks in. “He didn’t slobber on you, did he?”
“Not since ’06,” she says proudly. “For the rest of the girls, I can’t say the same.” She gives you an expectant look, and you’re about to shoot back that hey, you can’t be responsible for everything Donghae does just because he’s your best friend, and then-
Oh. You think of Hyoyeon’s absence at the party, of Donghae at practice the week before; it’s so suspicious in retrospect that you want to smack yourself for not noticing. You deserve the satisfied smirk Jessica sends your way. “I take it you know what happened.”
“I think so,” you say, quietly. “I don’t know why you told me, though.”
“I don’t know either,” she admits, tapping her fingers on the counter. “I’m not even supposed to know about it, but…I wish people would say what they want.” You give her a blank look, and she sighs and pushes herself off the counter. You’re not sure what you did to disappoint her. “I should get to the van.”
“I always thought it was weird they weren’t better friends,” you offer up. Jessica nods, but it’s more of an afterthought as she walks to the door. You watch as she disappears down the hallway, wondering just what you’re supposed to do with this.
It’s not until Kissing You gets called in on Sukira that it all-the tiny moments, things you forgot, things you never thought were important-comes together. You’re not sure if you should feel crafty or oblivious.
2010
At first you decide you’re overthinking it. Maybe you still like her after all this time and being with your best friend is the next best thing. Maybe you can’t differentiate between wanting two people to be happy and wanting them to be happy together. Or maybe you’re right, and there is something strange, something rigid between them that you didn’t pick up on for nine years. You have a gut feeling, and you’re tired of being the dense one.
You decide to get them alone at Gayo Daejun. You rehearse the scenario dozens of times in your mind, but then you catch Hyoyeon watching some rookie on stage (for the life of you, you can’t remember his name), eyes pinned to his footwork. She lets her hair cover her face when she walks by-a trick you recognize now-and blushes deep red when he’s finally gone. Too late.
It’s nothing like the world you sell in your videos. You’re no cupid, and Donghae and Hyoyeon don’t ride into a Wonder Bread-sunset. You don’t watch them get closer to the tune of indie music, or even the cliché amusement park date; instead Hyoyeon teases the netizens about her crush and Donghae spends hours in the gym for your next comeback. Nothing’s changed.
But sometimes you’ll turn around and catch them together for fleeting moments-her teaching him their latest choreography, him pouring water on her forehead in front of thousands of fans-and at least there’s this.
Nothing’s changed, and that’s the best you can ask for.
Title: this bird has flown
Rating: pg
Pairing(s): hyoyeon/donghae, past!hyoyeon/eunhyuk
Length: 2608
Summary: hyukjae notices things a little too late. second person pov.
Remixee author: compatable
Title of work you remixed: possibility
Link to work you remixed: http://hairlip.livejournal.com/4908.html#cutid1
2001
You take Donghae to meet her a few days after he arrives. She’s sweaty, hair and clothes sticking to the sides of her tiny, lanky body, but she stops with a smile and introduces herself as Kim Hyoyeon. You smile back, bowing low, and for some reason, she moves closer to your side. You feel naked-the weight of Junsu’s absence-and blush furiously. “This is Donghae,” you stutter, and he links arms with you, as if he can sense your nerves.
Hyoyeon laughs, and your brain draws a blank. She fills the gap by turning the music back on and giving the two of you a playful grin. Your feet are fluid, fast, and only barely skimming the floor that you almost trip. You don’t even know why you’re trying so hard.
A few months later, you take Hyoyeon to an ice cream parlor and try kissing her with chocolate-stained lips. She thinks it’s a joke, pushes your face away, and you drown your first heartbreak in hours of Mariokart. Junsu promises to share Jun Jihyun with you when you’re both crazy famous, and it dulls the pain a little.
Sometimes, when it’s after midnight and you’ve had too much to drink, you’ll stare at her number on your phone and wonder what could have been. When you come to your senses you realize she deserves better.
2003
The day they announce the newest group, you lock yourself in your bedroom and stare at the ceiling. You want to do something-slam doors, throw pillows, cry into one-but you’re so overwhelmed with emotion that your body’s in an uneasy stalemate.
You tell yourself you’re not special, that the company puts groups together and breaks them apart without blinking. You’re not the only one who was weeks from debut once, who watched friends debut before them. But you’re in no mood to be rational, and you roll on your side instead, pulling your phone from your pocket.
It’s only then that you realize that you can’t-don't want, even-to call Junsu. You set the phone next to your pillow and pull your hands over your face. Just a stupid pipe dream, you think to yourself, and get up to lock the door before anyone figures out your hiding spot.
It takes twenty minutes for your phone to ring; Junsu, you guess, or even Sungmin. “Hello,” you say wearily, contemplating whether or not to hang up as soon as you answer.
“Hey.” It’s Hyoyeon. “I heard the news. I’m sorry.”
You pull your face out of your pillow, sitting up. “It’s not your fault,” you mutter.
“I know, but-“ she sighs. “I remember how badly you two wanted to debut together.”
“Can’t have everything.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and you feel terribly responsible. “Listen,” she says, finally. “My mom made kimchi stew and I figured you could use some real food, if you want to come down to the lobby.” You can sense something strange in her voice, but she knows you too well, knows you’ll run down the stairs for a home-cooked meal.
She’s not lying, at least-there’s a Tupperware container in her hands, but she’s flanked on either side by Sungmin and Donghae, holding a few soju bottles (where did they get those?) and a tiny ice cream cake. You consider running back up the stairs until you lock eyes with Sungmin. Only his lips are smiling, and god, you’re selfish. “Let’s go upstairs,” you say softly, and they nod, Donghae wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
Between the now strangely painful H.O.T. songs on the radio, between the complete absence in Sungmin’s eyes, it hits you that you can’t remember the last time you saw Hyoyeon and Donghae sitting together. They exchange looks sometimes before glancing at you, asking you questions but never speaking to each other. For a moment, you remember there’s more in the world than failed debuts and missing best friends and wonder, frowning, how they don't know each other at all.
But then there’s a knock at the door and you dash to hide the alcohol.
2005
“Congratulations,” she says.
“Thanks,” you respond.
“Good luck,” she says.
“I’ll try.”
It’s a stupid conversation. What you really want to say is don’t worry, this will happen for you, too, but you know that’s just as meaningless as the pleasantries. You breathe into the phone instead, as awkward and childish as ever even though your debut stage is right behind a curtain. “Tell everyone else I said good luck, too,” she adds sheepishly. Jungsu pats your shoulder and holds up five fingers.
“I’ve gotta go,” you yell, “Let’s choreograph something, okay?” You think you hear a faint “sure” before she hangs up.
2007
Hyoyeon debuts two years after you, seven years after she came to the company. You go to see her after their first performance, yelling out your congratulations before you blend into the wall. They’re happy to see you, but they’re happier about the performance, jumping up and down or collapsing into chairs from the weight of it all. Hyoyeon breaks away from hugging Seohyun to sit next to you, panting and smiling.
“Donghae came by earlier,” she says. You remember him mentioning it; he hadn’t had as many recordings as you. “He said my hair will help me stand out.” She runs a few fingers through her bangs, pushing them back. “Like his.”
It takes a moment for you to realize what she means by his hair, and you laugh loudly enough for Taeyeon to turn around. “You don’t want to stand out like that,” you say, grinning. She smiles back, but something about it makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong. “I mean, you do stand out-your solo dance is great. But Donghae’s hair was disgusting, you don’t want to be like him at all.” You shake your head. “I can’t believe he said that, what a moron.” You look up to find Hyoyeon’s disappeared behind her hair again, and you realize you’ve been babbling like an idiot for what seems like an eternity.
Tiffany tugs on Hyoyeon’s hand for a picture and she gives you a tiny smile before she’s whisked away. “Thanks for coming, oppa,” she says simply, turning around, and something about her still feels stiff.
You never do get around to apologizing.
2008
It’s not really a surprise that they pick Donghae for Girls’ Generation’s third video-DBSK’s busy in Japan, and out of the thirteen of you, he’s got the least offending hairstyle. He spouts some nonsense about his looks--I got cast for my pretty face, after all, he sings--but you stick by the hair theory, or maybe the Siwon-had-a-recording postulate. As long as it’s not you in the preschool-play outfits; you already did Super Junior Trot.
But Donghae-for all his faults-is a better person than you. “We can catch up,” he says, shrugging, and leaves for the shoot with a smile. You roll back into bed and sleep until three, the first normal thing you’ve done in weeks.
Donghae comes back smiling, but not as warmly; he quickly puts a pot of noodles on the stove and sits at the counter, tracing circles on the top. “Tired?” you ask, still in your pajamas, eyes throbbing from too many hours of staring at screens.
He shakes his head, his hair still stiff from product. “Worried,” he says, mouth finally dropping into a frown. “About them, I mean.”
“They’re going for cute, right?” you say. “Everyone loves that.”
“It’s not-“ he stops, reaching for the words. “They’re embarrassed. It’s like-imagine if we had to do a slumber party concept.” You grimace, and Donghae holds up his phone, the screen showing a photo of Jessica pouting in a frilly pink dress. You try imagining Hyoyeon in the same outfit, hair back in princess buns, but your brain doesn’t cooperate. It occurs to you that you haven’t talked in weeks, let alone seen her. “How was Hyoyeon?” you ask, even though you know the answer already (or should, after eight years of friendship).
Donghae sighs, resting his head on his arms. “She didn’t smile.”
2009
The first time they win for Gee, Jungsu calls Taeyeon and puts his phone on speaker so the seven of you can scream fanchants into her ears. The wins pile up and you congratulate them at Sukira, in the hallways of the SM Building, anywhere you see them; it feels good not to worry anymore.
You’re there for their ninth win, ditching the pajamas (at last) for flashy suits and flashier choreography. Tiffany introduces you and the crowd goes nuts during the dance break; you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to be proud of your work. During the encore, you stand in front of the crowd and smile, struck dumb by the feeling as Donghae high-fives and screams into mics.
Your eyes are closed on the ride home until he leans on your shoulder, tapping the side of your ribcage. “Hyukkie,” he whispers. “Hyoyeon looked cute tonight, didn’t she?”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Where did that come from?”
He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”
You glance at his face, not sure if he’s messing with you or just talking to keep himself awake. “I guess so,” you say, and lean against the window.
.
You probably wouldn’t have found out if it weren’t for Minho’s surprise party. Jinki calls you and Donghae a few weeks before, and you’re more than happy to help, particularly if it involves smashing cakes in the faces of hoobaes. Donghae volunteers to buy decorations with Sunyoung and you’re on inviting duty, calling everyone in the company as soon as your tapings end.
Hyoyeon’s last on the list, after the rest of her group and Minho’s costars on Dream Team. It takes two rings for her to pick up; she must not have a recording today. “Hey, oppa,” she says. “It’s late.”
“I know, sorry about that.” You wince. “I’ve been busy all day, but um, Jinki asked me to invite people to Minho’s surprise party next week. We’re getting an ice cream cake, and I think Donghae’s going to buy-“
“Donghae’s going?”
You laugh. “He’s getting decorations on Thursday.”
“Oh.” You hear her moving around on the other line. “I’ll ask manager oppa about my schedule in the morning and get back to you, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Goodnight, oppa.”
“Night, Hyoyeon.”
Sungmin sits next to you at the kitchen table, putting a plate of fried rice in between you. You look down at your guest list as soon as you hang up, your eyes scrolling through the names-Hyoyeon’s the first one from her group not to say yes immediately.
You’re not nearly as stupid as you pretend to be. Sure, you forgot to look both ways when you cross the street and your grades never were all that great, but you’re not the dunce you become when the audience needs an extra laugh. Or, well, that’s what you’d like to think.
You sit next to Donghae during practice, letting your legs settle as he sips from his water bottle. “Hey,” you say, and he looks over slowly. “Did anything happen with you and Hyoyeon?”
Donghae’s grip on the bottle slips; he catches it just before it hits the ground. “No,” he says, his lips twisting. “I mean, I don’t know. I never see her anyway, so I wouldn’t know if I did anything, you know?”
You narrow your eyes. “So you didn’t slap her.”
Donghae shoots you a mortified look. “Hyukjae,” he says, voice mock-dramatic, “I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Just checking,” you say, pushing his face away when he gives you puppy eyes. “She might not make it to Minho’s”-you look around-“meeting.”
Donghae’s face straightens suddenly. “Huh,” he says, shrugging. “Must be busy.”
.
Jessica walks into your makeup room at the end of your latest Strong Heart recording, bag hanging off her wrist and eyes scanning both ends of the hallway. “Got a minute?” she asks, but the look on her face means it’s rhetorical, and you nod without thinking. She leans against your counter and sighs.
“Good job today,” you say. She laughs, and you’re not sure what’s so funny. “You remember Donghae’s drunk-kissing habit, right?” she says, as if you never spoke at all.
“Reason number 1 I cling to Sungmin at band parties? Of course.” It takes a moment, but the question sinks in. “He didn’t slobber on you, did he?”
“Not since ’06,” she says proudly. “For the rest of the girls, I can’t say the same.” She gives you an expectant look, and you’re about to shoot back that hey, you can’t be responsible for everything Donghae does just because he’s your best friend, and then-
Oh. You think of Hyoyeon’s absence at the party, of Donghae at practice the week before; it’s so suspicious in retrospect that you want to smack yourself for not noticing. You deserve the satisfied smirk Jessica sends your way. “I take it you know what happened.”
“I think so,” you say, quietly. “I don’t know why you told me, though.”
“I don’t know either,” she admits, tapping her fingers on the counter. “I’m not even supposed to know about it, but…I wish people would say what they want.” You give her a blank look, and she sighs and pushes herself off the counter. You’re not sure what you did to disappoint her. “I should get to the van.”
“I always thought it was weird they weren’t better friends,” you offer up. Jessica nods, but it’s more of an afterthought as she walks to the door. You watch as she disappears down the hallway, wondering just what you’re supposed to do with this.
It’s not until Kissing You gets called in on Sukira that it all-the tiny moments, things you forgot, things you never thought were important-comes together. You’re not sure if you should feel crafty or oblivious.
2010
At first you decide you’re overthinking it. Maybe you still like her after all this time and being with your best friend is the next best thing. Maybe you can’t differentiate between wanting two people to be happy and wanting them to be happy together. Or maybe you’re right, and there is something strange, something rigid between them that you didn’t pick up on for nine years. You have a gut feeling, and you’re tired of being the dense one.
You decide to get them alone at Gayo Daejun. You rehearse the scenario dozens of times in your mind, but then you catch Hyoyeon watching some rookie on stage (for the life of you, you can’t remember his name), eyes pinned to his footwork. She lets her hair cover her face when she walks by-a trick you recognize now-and blushes deep red when he’s finally gone. Too late.
It’s nothing like the world you sell in your videos. You’re no cupid, and Donghae and Hyoyeon don’t ride into a Wonder Bread-sunset. You don’t watch them get closer to the tune of indie music, or even the cliché amusement park date; instead Hyoyeon teases the netizens about her crush and Donghae spends hours in the gym for your next comeback. Nothing’s changed.
But sometimes you’ll turn around and catch them together for fleeting moments-her teaching him their latest choreography, him pouring water on her forehead in front of thousands of fans-and at least there’s this.
Nothing’s changed, and that’s the best you can ask for.