r o s e d u s t, chp 7
• c h a p t e r 7 •
Key threw up in the bathroom, his knees giving way and colliding onto the hard ceramic floor as he convulsed everything he had eaten since that morning to just an hour ago. He gripped the sides of the toilet to hold himself up, trembling with his face drenched in sweat and his heart pounding in his ears.
Today was supposed to be a special day, a day all the Shinee members had worked hard preparing for, and they were all supposed to be at the top of their game. It was their first public appearance since their long hiatus and the morning had been nerve-wracking. It wasn’t even that big an event, just a small fanmeeting, but the members all knew that even after what felt like forever, their fans were still waiting patiently and faithfully for them.
They wanted to work hard to show and greet these precious fans again with matured smiles and renewed enthusiasm, even though there was now an empty spot that could never be filled again.
It had taken months to prepare for this, both physically and emotionally, and they were grateful. The dorm felt like a prison cell even though they had the physical capacity to leave, trapped by the emotions that still tied them down.
The CEO and managers made it clear to the members that they didn’t have to come back until they were ready, or else it could wait. There was no need to rush, no forcing them if they needed more time.
Rehearsing for the fanmeeting allowed them to finally free themselves with a new purpose, using everything they endured in the past year as their motivation; to show themselves as survivors and that they would do their best to make Minho proud of them.
Key told them he was ready, and he really believed he was. It was a tough week with so many things happening but he convinced himself he’d get through this day and earn that satisfaction he had yearned for so long, to know that he could still get through life without being haunted by demons.
But here he was, backstage in the bathroom, having run away from the prying eyes of the crowd because it was too much for him to handle. He didn’t think the wounds reopening would be so unbearable that it made him physically sick.
Key coughed roughly and spat out for the last time before he flushed the toilet, staggering down weakly on the ground. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, angry and humiliated at himself.
They were only supposed to sing a few of their songs for the fans today, they all agreed it was something they could do. The lyrics were arranged so each of them could take over for Minho’s part.
othing had gone wrong during rehearsals, Key was glad, but it became more and more difficult to focused as he was before when the hours drew close to the real event.
Perhaps it was from being in front of a live audience after so long, the feel of standing on stage as four instead of five.
Not just performing to cover for a missing member, but as four members. Four members.
Key kept his thoughts to himself, hoping it wouldn’t distract him, because he knew if something went wrong then it would immediately be reported by the press. It was still such a hot topic; everything they did, everything they were. He hated that they just wouldn’t leave them alone, that he was exposed like a nerve to the public. He hated it so much.
He held his composure and smiled for his fans, but when it was time for them to sing, he just knew something would go wrong.
They were singing Hello and everything was going fine until Minho’s rap began. Key was given the part while Taemin took over his adlibs, and he honestly thought he could pull it off. It went well when he rehearsed it over and over in the practice room, in front of the mirror, next to his bandmates in his sweats and with no pressure from a crowd… but in front of everyone, he quickly found just how unprepared he was.
Minho’s notes were too low for him. He tried his hardest to reach them but ended up choking on the lyrics, messing up the whole song. Key brought up his head and looked at the audience, fear plunging the pit of his stomach as he suddenly became entirely conscious of just how many people were watching him. He froze, feeling his throat close up involuntarily and his mind going blank, causing the room to fall into an eerie silence except the soft instrumental beat of the song and hushed murmurs from the audience.
Taemin was the first to move after what felt like an entire ten seconds, glancing over to Onew with panicked eyes before the eldest took action, quickly singing into the chorus again and prompting the others to join in and pick up like nothing happened.
But the damage was done.
The manager immediately intervened and changed the schedule to quickly prevent any attention being drawn to the situation, canceling the rest of the performances and skipping straight to the autograph signing instead. Key wasn’t sure how long he blanked out for, vaguely feeling Jonghyun push him off stage and muttering something to Onew about getting him some water. Then, he felt a rush of nausea and slipped backstage, running until he reached the bathroom and throwing up until his stomach was completely empty.
It was too soon.
After a while, Key finally pushed himself up from the ground and unlocked the door of the cubicle, stepping out unsteadily with his footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty bathroom stall. He went to the sink and quickly turned on the tap, scooping the water into his mouth with his hand and spitting it out. It dripped off his lips and chin as he stood for a moment, still breathing heavily with his head down. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at his own reflection. The stronger the throbbing in his chest became, the weaker his body felt. He exhaled slowly, the weight on his shoulders making them ache.
By the time he came out of the bathroom, his manager was waiting for him, looking concerned and worried, and he told Key that they were going to wrap up the fanmeeting quickly and that he could go home first before the others. Key didn’t complain, didn’t ask questions about why or how, if the other members were coping or if the media was going to pick up this incident, or if they already had. He didn’t have the energy to worry anymore, and honestly he had stopped caring.
His mind should have been resting or thinking of positive things, but it was filled with nothing but thoughts of Minho, Hara and the situation he had been dragged into because of them.
It was all over the news about Hara’s emergency trip to the hospital. Her company managed to take control and all that was reported was she had come down with something, but that was enough to create another media circus at the worst possible time.
Kara’s dorm and their company’s headquarters were swarmed with paparazzi after the broadcast, to the point that bodyguards were stationed at the front entrance to ward off reporters who viciously cornered anyone coming in or out of the building. Tight security was put in place for the girls, all of them pulled out of their activities again and sent home to the safety of their families. The dorm was currently deserted.
Key always knew this would happen at some point for a very long time. He had even been waiting for it, but the dread he was supposed to feel was numb like everything else.
It was like he was just standing at the sideline, watching it like a train flipping off its tracks in slow motion while everyone else was running around and screaming so loud they didn’t realize they were heading right off a cliff.
Key regretted not being like the others; he was all alone. He didn't know how much longer he could do this by himself before he'd fall apart too.
His thoughts traced back to Hara again, like they always did these days. Key hadn’t heard much about what was going on with her, but he was sure it was better for the situation to be kept as a private matter. One thing he did know was she was going to be transferred to another hospital tomorrow morning. Nicole told him about it.
Key finished changing out of his stage outfit and felt a heavy jacket wrap warmly around his shoulders by one of the stylists. He gave her a small appreciative smile and bowed before he headed to the exit door with slow aimless steps.
He had met up Nicole a few days ago, just as the news broke out. He could only imagine how bad it got that they had to call an ambulance, after being kept in isolation for so long. Shivers ran down his spine as he remembered seeing those scratch marks on Nicole’s cheek, mixed emotions colliding with each other inside his aching head as his imagination spun out of control.
Blood. There had been blood and Hara was the one who made Nicole bleed.
The cold air slammed into him as Key pulled the door open, stinging his skin that was unknowingly soaked with sweat, inevitably bringing back his senses. He uttered a soft groan and quickly wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, instantly trembling in the harsh weather.
He dug his hands in his pocket, finally taking a glance around to see his manager waiting in his car and motioning him to get to shelter quickly. Key hastily ran to the car door and pulled open the icy handle and sat down in the backseat.
Breathless and shivering, he did up his seatbelt as the manager turned up the heater. He glanced at the car mirror and asked if Key was alright, seeing him so pale and tired, but Key just reassured him with a curt nod. The manager was still unsure but didn’t press on, knowing the amount of stress the boy was going through at a time like this. He sighed with acknowledgement and turned back to the wheel, starting up the engine and swaying the car back towards the road.
Key collapsed back limply on his seat and gazed tediously out the window at the grayish sky, the heat and thoughts weighing down heavily on his chest that it spread to the tip of his fingers.
They had just finished cleaning out Minho’s room a few days ago. All his clothes, all his possessions, they were put into plastic bags, either to be thrown out or sent to Incheon to his parents. It was hard on the members who never realized until now just how difficult it was to actually physically pack everything away, because with this it really meant that this was the end and that Minho’s death was finally set in stone.
But how could they, after so long? How could they just erase Minho’s existence from this place that had been their home for so many years?
Key sighed and he leaned his head back on the seat, a ray of light streaking across her face, breaking apart as the car slithered under the skeletal shadows of the evergreen trees on the side of the road.
It was hard clearing out Minho’s closet and drawers, almost laughable at how so much flooded back, from merely finding things like an old crinkled shirt in the corner, to mismatched socks under his desk, to random photographs of himself and the other members in his bedside drawer. Minho’s older brother drove down from Incheon to help, and they were grateful to him.
Key, Onew and Jonghyun were prepared for it but they all worried about Taemin, who wanted to help too. He shouldn’t be here; they were finally able to start moving on from this incredulous loss, only to have their grief renewed again after so long. Still, the maknae bravely said he wanted to be a part of it with them. He told them he needed to do this, so perhaps he could finally comprehend his hyung’s passing.
Taemin hadn’t cried once yet, not even at the funeral and all this time he couldn’t understand why. He was confused and even hated himself for it despite Onew explaining to him the different stages of grief, that not crying didn’t mean Taemin loved Minho any less than anyone else.
He diligently did as much as he could, taking down Minho’s clothes, the books he used to read, the CDs he used to collect. The others stood to one side and sadly watched the youngest push himself, working to the point that he was unaware that he was grieving.
But soon, he reached an emotional peak when he found a Japanese energy drink can stashed away in some hidden compartment under Minho’s bed. The other members couldn’t understand what was wrong; the drink was old, way past its used-by date and should’ve been thrown in the trash, but Taemin refused to let go of it.
For a long time, Taemin used to always like this particular energy drink despite not being allowed to have it often since it was considered unhealthy. Taemin liked it so much that he grabbed every chance he had to try to get one, prompting the manager to order the older members beforehand to not give it to him it when he asked. Persuadable Onew, soft-hearted Key and easily distracted Jonghyun were all side-eyed and warned twice, but the manager took ever-reliable Minho’s word for it without hesitation.
However, in the end Minho was the only one who actually went against his word. He shared a can with Taemin whenever they came back from a long tiring day, even though he’d lecture him on how the stuff was bad for growing teenagers and that he shouldn’t drink it often.
No matter how stern Minho was, he would always always let Taemin have the first sip, even if the rascal downed half the can in one go.
The Shinee member who rarely showed his tears, Lee Taemin cried all night long until his heart was dry.
They should have cleaned out Minho’s room right after the funeral, but they avoided it for so long. His room had just always been there, and even when he wasn’t home they could still pretend he was, reading a book or surfing the net on his laptop. He always used to be so quiet when he was alone in his room, sometimes the other members came home and wouldn’t even realize he was in there because it was so quiet. There were still some days when they would forget, forget that he was gone, and that he was still in there, or that he might come back later like he did after he finished his schedules.
Everyone knew that it couldn’t last forever, and once the last traces of Minho’s existence were removed from that room, the illusion that his presence was somehow still there, that his voice would somehow still call out at any time… it was like it all just vanished, so very abruptly.
The car finally stopped in front of the dorm and Key got out, not saying a word. He let himself in through the front door, stepping into the empty dorm as he stared around to gather his thoughts. He absentmindedly took off his coat, imagining the television to be on as if there was someone watching it. He imagined Onew on the sofa like he was that afternoon last week, snapping up at the sound of the door, glancing over with wide alert eyes only to see Key, not Hara, and immediately the exhaustion in his eyes would gush back. The Shinee leader would then smile feebly and nod, tentatively sitting back down on the sofa and pretend in vain nothing had happened.
Key could see Onew quivering slightly and his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he tried to casually stare back at the TV, visibly shaken from thinking it was her.
It had become something of a habit, to always expect Hara at the door. Even when it wasn’t her, even when they were told she wasn’t going to come anymore, whenever they heard the door, they would react as if she was here again.
The sudden panic, dread, and that horrible, tedious self-loathing that came with it.
Key lowered his head and swallowed, the thought of his bandmate like this sending a rush of vertigo through him. Shaking his head, he closed the door quietly behind him and hung up his jacket. He rubbed his chest with his hand, groaning softly as he felt that familiar hollow pounding that was threatening to drive him crazy one of these days.
He didn’t know what this feeling was, gnawing inside of him, but it hadn’t gone away since they finished packing Minho’s things away. Key remembered he was the last to leave the room after the others were done, exhausted and emotionally drained, expecting himself to be more than willing to get out of this place as soon as he could. The heating was turned off, this time permanently, so the air in the room was cold and bitter. The sadness overwhelmed him that he couldn’t move, even when he heard the distance sound of Jonghyun’s voice gently calling out to him.
At that very moment, it felt like Minho was really gone.
Key found himself inside Minho’s empty room once again, having wandered in without even realizing. He swallowed again and felt his heart beating painfully as his eyes grazed at the bare wooden floor and the smooth pale blue walls he had always remembered to be of a much brighter colour.
Inhaling a shaky breath, he touched each wall once with the tip of his fingers as he walked past them, making a full round of the room before stopping at the corner where Minho’s bed used to be. Key sighed and rested his head back against the wall, sliding his back down as he sunk slowly onto the cold hard floor.
He didn’t know why he chose that spot to sit every time he came in. He never wanted to stay in the room for even a minute when Hara used to come, and he merely went in every now and then to see what she was doing. Now that everything was packed away, Key was drawn to this part of the room, feeling as if a part of Minho was somehow still there.
He had hated coming in here because he found himself suffocating in the memories he was trying so hard to put behind. Whenever he remembered back, it felt like scorching burns in his chest that he began to selfishly hate Minho again. For dying, for leaving, and then the cycle would repeat itself where Key ended up hating himself for not being able to let go of the grief.
But now that the room was suddenly empty, as if Minho had never stayed and never left, Key didn’t think it would feel like this. It was supposed to be healthy, cleaning up and moving on, acknowledging the passing of a close friend and honoring his memory, but it was so strange and almost frightening that the goodbye was finally sealed. All this time when he longed so much to move past the tragedy and start anew with the people he cared for, Key realized that he hadn’t been ready at all.
Here he was, coming to Minho’s room every day exactly like Hara had and desperately wanting to cling onto anything that remotely had Minho’s presence, his emotions acting against everything he told himself was the right thing to do.
Key exhaled and closed his eyes, the empty room and empty dorm echoing the soft thump of his head on the wall as he leaned back with a look of remorse. Biting his lip, he reached into the pocket of his jeans, his hand closing around a cool smooth object buried deep inside and pulling it out.
The precious little porcelain figurine that had smashed into pieces right before his very eyes, shattered and unfixable, swept out with the dustpan into the trash as the useless pile of shards broken beyond repair like Hara’s heart. Perhaps one would have hoped the destruction of the porcelain knight would have finally ended Hara’s madness, taking away that false hope and fantasies so that she would finally be ripped back into the real world no matter how relentlessly.
The glass slipper had shattered and her prince would never ever come back.
Key knew it was the right thing to do so the story would finally end and bring Hara merciless peace. He wanted her to be set free and brought back from this fantasy world she was trapped inside, where she was slowly deteriorating into dust. It was just the right thing to do, to destroy the glass slipper so it would never cause harm again.
Key kept telling himself that over and over again, yet it was still here, still whole in Key’s hand, still the porcelain knight and horse down to the smallest detail.
He honestly didn’t know why he did it. He didn’t know why he went through the trash for hours to collect all the shards after the manager cleaned up, spending days gluing everything back together and making sure every last fragment was intact that his fingers were left covered in cuts and blisters. He became so obsessed over fixing it that he didn’t leave his room until it was finally back in one piece. It was cruel, what he did. Because of him, it hadn’t ended yet when it should have.
Key gazed down sadly at the cherished object in the palm of his hand that had caused so much hurt and damage, yet he brought it back to life.
He set it down on its base on the floor in front of him, moving it slightly with his fingers so that it faced him. He withdrew his hand and rested it on his lap, just staring down into the faceless knight figure, mesmerized by all that it was and all the chaos it caused, how precious it was to Hara and Hara alone.
It was her heart.
Key shifted his legs and carefully lowered himself onto his side. He winced as he lied down on the hard floor, the wooden surface painfully hard as he tried to cushion his head on his arm, knowing his back was going to hurt alot when he got up again.
He didn’t mind, though. Sometimes, he’d just come to lie there for hours, even falling asleep when no one came to call him. He was scolded when someone found him, but there were times when he slept woke up to find a blanket wrapped around him.
“Minho…” Key said softly.
He reached out his hand and touched the porcelain knight again gently, running his fingers over the bumps of glue that had seeped through the cracks and hardened. He was so tired, a weight pressing down on him as he felt his chest tighten with guilt.
Every night, he had dreams about Hara, about that moment he almost kissed her, when that powerful force took over his body and dulled his senses.
It was in that moment that Key realized.
He desired her. Because she was so frail and willing, because she was so helpless, like a small flower that managed to grow in the shadowy shrubs, he had wanted to crush it underneath his foot, to take her entirely, to end it all for her sake in the only violent sadistic way he knew. All the anger and hatred and disgust he felt for her, it would have been so easy if he had just let go and destroyed her before the cancer spread any further.
But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t do it, something held him back from ending her misery. Something held him back from stopping her, instead stepping aside so she could continue down the path of the fantasy world that was decaying her.
Why? Why did he stop? Why didn’t he just crush her? What was wrong with him? He never cared about Hara, he never wanted to care about her, so why was he like this? He didn’t understand a thing, and it scared him. It horrified him because for the first time in his life, he was alone and he was completely lost. He had no idea what to even think right now.
Key’s stomach churned uncomfortably to remind himself that it was a useless wish, and that he could never be forgiven at this point no matter what he did.
He needed Minho to tell him what he should do. Minho would know, he always knew what to do and guide people along. Key needed him to tell him not to be scared, to be brave and do the right thing. He needed him to smile and say that everything would be alright again.
“Minho,” he called out meekly. He weakly reached out his hand to the porcelain knight again, letting it fall with a thump on the floor in front of him. “Minho…”
He couldn’t stop shaking, the fatigue finally consuming him that he could barely breathe. He inhaled deeply and tightened his jaw, curling up his legs protectively when eyes started to sting with tears but he was determined to not fall apart. A teardrop rolled down from the corner of his eye, and Key wrapped his arms around himself, still shaking.
“What do I do?”