From Here to Eternity (1/2)
SO it appears my K-Pop hiatus only lasted half a year before Super Junior reeled me back in, hook, line and sinker. You know what they say about fishes being stupidly unsuspecting when it's quiet and nothing seems to be wrong? A+ ANALOGY FOR ME RIGHT HERE
Anyway, when Kangin returned huffly and I started discussing the resurfacing of the KangTeuk ship, and then Kangin came back ACTIVELY and everything went to shit from there. This was meant to be a drabble but evolved monstrously into a 9K word long fic, which was not my intention AT ALL. In any case, HUGE GIGANTIC TRUCKLOADS of thanks to huffly, who doubled up as my beta and, er, KangTeuk stan-friend (???). Her feedback has been fantastic and spectacular and this fic? Would be a huge cliche without her. So. Yes. SHE GETS ALL THE LOVE ♥!!!
Title: From Here to Eternity
Pairing: Kangin/Leeteuk
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9300
Summary: Youngwoon returns from the army, but things aren't all smooth sailing. There is, for one, the fact that he's had little to no contact with the members for approximately two years. Then there's the part where Jungsu avoids him like a pro. Needless to say, the sea is as choppy as hell.
The 16th of April dawned bright and promising. Grimacing, Youngwoon rolled up his socks, which stank like the sewers on a hot summer's day.
"Your fans are waiting," Lihyun said, watching Youngwoon pack.
Youngwoon grunted. He stuffed his backpack closed and zipped it violently.
"You don't look happy," Lihyun said.
"Shut up," Youngwoon said brusquely. He stared at a torn patch of his backpack, and added, "I am."
"Are you? A little bird tells me you're afraid to see them after all this time."
"Afraid?" Youngwoon snorted. "Who said anything about afraid?"
Lihyun shrugged when Youngwoon turned around, hefting his backpack on his shoulders. "A little bird."
"You know, if I didn't like you," Youngwoon said, shouldering past Lihyun and pretending not to cower at the prospect of closing the distance between Youngwoon and Kangin, "You would be dead meat by now. Dead. Like bulgogi."
"If you say so," Lihyun said agreeably. He followed closely behind Youngwoon. "We'll miss you."
"Save it," Youngwoon said, "I heard you crying last night."
"Shut up," Lihyun said.
"Don't you have somewhere to be, little bird?" Youngwoon asked over his shoulder.
"Don't you have somewhere to be, leader's man?" Lihyun jerked his chin towards the entrance of the military camp, eyes twinkling. "They're waiting."
Youngwoon left his backpack by the entrance and wiped his hands on his thighs. The practice of embracing the swell of love and bracing against the swell of hate had long left Youngwoon's capabilities; the only remaining quality he had to offer was but a fragile thing -- friendship.
Real men are not allowed to be nervous, Youngwoon told himself sternly. He was going to go out there, be a man, and go home. Maybe patch things up with Jungsu, however tall a glass of water that promised to be.
His mother always said: the sooner you do it, the faster you'll get it over and done with. This was going to be easy. Piece of cake. Squeezing lemons and everything.
Placing his hands decisively on his waist, he stole a deep breath that did nothing to ease his heart rate, strode out, and --
-- and reduced himself to a grinning maniac. He did not run to Jungsu, whose arms were spread wide open like some godforsaken angel, but he came close to it.
"Hyung," he breathed, and tried not to say anything more after that for fear his voice cracked.
Jungsu said nothing, just sniffed wetly down his neck and wrapped his arms around Youngwoon, squeezing the living breath out of his lungs. Youngwoon let his hand slip to the small of Jungsu's back, indulging in the moment. It would be real, Youngwoon thought wistfully, if not for the audience of cameras.
Don't be such a girl, he wanted to say, but he knew better. Jungsu could be a magnificent actor when he wanted to. With the fans' expectations never far behind Jungsu's every action, it was no surprise that he had to live up to their heights, and if that called for Oscar-worthy acting skills, well, Jungsu never mentioned it.
He looked up, and the rest of Super Junior descended like a particularly ominous storm cloud.
"And then -- wait for it -- his pants went schreek! and tore right down the middle."
"Thanks, Hae," Hyukjae said, "I really needed everyone to know that."
"It'll never stop being funny though," Kyuhyun said, turning around in the passenger seat.
Youngwoon grinned at their familiar banter, and unconsciously his eyes sought out Jungsu's, who sat beside him. Rolling his eyes to the heavens, Jungsu gave him a tight smile. Youngwoon felt his own grin falter.
Discreetly, he reached for Jungsu's hand, longing for the smallest assurance. For the shortest second, Jungsu curled his little finger around Youngwoon's, but he quickly followed it with a warning glare and snatched his hand back to his lap. Irritated, Youngwoon shifted away from Jungsu.
"We," Jungsu said, turning slightly, "Need to talk."
Youngwoon swallowed at Jungsu's breath against his ear, and nodded.
They didn't talk.
It was no fault of Jungsu's, since Youngwoon spent most of his time cooped up in his apartment. If he wasn't staring at his ceiling calculating the levels of misery his life could reach before he quit Super Junior, he was at home with his family trying to evade the loneliness that pervaded every inch of his person anyway.
On particularly gloomy days, Youngwoon looked to alcohol. By his third soju bottle, however, Youngwoon would remember the looks of dismay and disappointment on the members' faces, would remember reading Jungsu's cyworld entry, and he would head to bed.
In a fit of immaturity, he had left his mobile phone under his pillow so he wouldn't feel it sit silently in his pocket. When he couldn't resist lifting the pillow and checking his empty screen for missed calls, Youngwoon took a ladder to the storeroom and placed his mobile phone in the highest cabinet. Then he closed the storeroom door and locked it.
"Call my apartment phone," he had told his family, "My phone's keypad is broken."
Jungsu was too busy to deal with the likes of him. Youngwoon sometimes searched news sites for Super Junior, and often kept tabs on Jungsu's activities. If he didn't know that Jungsu was biding his time like a miffed cat licking its paws clean, he would've thought Jungsu had forgotten his very existence.
Which was why it came as a complete surprise when his doorbell rang and Youngwoon opened the door to see an impatient-looking Jungsu, who walked right past him into the living room.
"I'll be in the car," their manager said, and left.
Stunned, Youngwoon shut the door and blinked at the grainy wood. It looked convincingly woody, for a dream.
"Are you going to stand there staring at the door like an idiot or are we going to talk?" Jungsu asked.
"Touchy," Youngwoon blurted, then whacked himself mentally. He turned around. Like a man. "I mean, yes. Hyung. Jungsu-hyung. Have you been sleeping?"
"I took special pains to find the time in my schedule to give you a house-call," Jungsu said. “Have you been sleeping?
“Of course,” Youngwoon said. “Unlike someone.”
“I’m very busy.”
"What, playing husband to Sora?" Youngwoon asked, a touch too early for his upper brain functions to kick in.
Jungsu looked slightly surprised, but he brushed past the barb like he was used to it. "You haven't been picking up my calls."
"About that," Youngwoon said. He shuffled his feet and found sudden interest in a particularly intriguing looking crack on the wall. "My keypad broke?"
"You can't lie to me, Youngwoon."
"No, of course not," he agreed, and shuffled his feet again.
"Well?"
"What's with the questions? Maybe I didn't want to pick them up! Maybe I don't want to talk to you!"
Jungsu's jaw twitched. "Youngwoon."
"Shut up," Youngwoon said, overwhelmed, "Shut up shut up shut up."
Jungsu visibly softened. "Youngwoon," he said, gentler now, "We need to talk."
"Talk then!" Youngwoon said.
"Things have -- things have changed," Jungsu said, swallowing. Youngwoon tried not to watch Jungsu's Adam's apple as it bobbed, but it proved to be quite a task. "We're not, you know. We can't go back to before."
There was Before, and then there was After. Before, things had been fucking fantastic. He'd had Jungsu, and fame, and money. Then he had turned jaded, and become careless.
"What are you saying?" Youngwoon said.
"Us," Jungsu said. "You, me. It's not working out."
"But," Youngwoon said, struggling not to sound like a petulant child, "Before I enlisted, you said --"
"'We'll be KangTeuk forever'?" Jungsu said, "I had to. I couldn't take that away from you. Not after everything."
"So -- what?" Youngwoon demanded, even when all he wanted to say was but I love you. “I don’t have anything back!”
"But you do," Jungsu said. "You're joining us for 6jib."
Youngwoon threw himself into the practices with all the strength and vigour of a half-starved lion. Apart from the occasional solo performance, two years in the military did his dancing and singing skills no favours. His vocal trainers tutted at him and made him start from the basics; his dance trainers made him run through the routines for every single song, starting from Knock Out, in front of the mirror; Lee Soo Man flat out told him to lose weight, and to lose it fast.
By the time mid-May rolled around, Youngwoon had refreshed his muscle memories, relearned his lines, and, most crucial of all, (mostly) renewed his bonds with the members. Even Sungmin stayed awkward as ever, which was a familiarity Youngwoon didn't know he would appreciate until now.
His exchanges with Jungsu were genial at best, and strained at worst. Each time Youngwoon tried to corner Jungsu alone to talk properly, he managed to slip through one way or another. One day it would be an urgent meeting with the boss; the next, a show to emcee.
Jungsu had changed since Youngwoon last practised with Super Junior as an active member. He no longer required Youngwoon's discipline; during the two years Youngwoon had spent being absent, Jungsu had acquired his own innate strength. He was prickly and reserved -- even more so than before -- and let no one through his self-imposed barriers.
Quite frankly, Youngwoon preferred the old Jungsu, whom he saw only on occasion. When Jungsu messed up a step, the familiar glint of self-deprecation returned to his eyes; when Jungsu closed his eyes in exhaustion and let his sweat bead down his neck, Youngwoon found comfort in the grim line of his jaw. Every smile of his incited in Youngwoon a pathetic desire to kiss his lips; every disappointed frown gave Youngwoon reason to smooth it out with his fingers.
Everyday, he wondered if things could be different if only he had had the courage to say the L word. Despite his failings, Jungsu was not a heartless man.
Right then. Youngwoon had charged someone with the job of making sure Jungsu didn’t work himself to death, and this someone would know what to do with this mess. He always did, even though his methods were often rather outlandish.
"What is it?" was the first thing Heechul said. "Make it quick, I'm about to go to sleep."
"It's Youngwoon," Youngwoon said. "I'm fine, how about you?"
"Skip the pleasantries," Heechul drawled. "Well?"
"It's Jungsu," Youngwoon said, gripping his phone. "What the hell happened?"
"What the hell what happened?"
"He's different!"
"Yes, people do that," Heechul said drily. "No one can remain the same for two years. Did you expect him to wait for you?"
"Well," Youngwoon said. He paused. "Well, yes."
"He didn't."
"I know."
"And?"
"Forget it," Youngwoon said, scowling furiously. "Night, hyung."
"Night," Heechul said, adding as an afterthought, "It's all just a defence mechanism. You know that, don't you?"
"What?"
Heechul sighed. "Gotta go, Youngwoon. Bye."
"Wait --"
The line went dead.
He recorded his first song -- in two years -- in June. Granted, he had less lines than before, but he would take what he could get. His odds of not messing up a performance tipped in his favour if he had only five seconds in the limelight, after all. Youngwoon was not nearly delusional enough to ignore his jumpy nerves and demand for more. Not with so much at stake.
The air-conditioner was no longer so much an irritating buzz in the background as it was a familiar comfort. Against the walls of the waiting room stood couches, as plush and fancy as ever. It still surprised Youngwoon how much had remained unchanged in the face of such life-turning events; he honestly had not dared to hope that he would ever stand on stage with everyone else again. To be granted the opportunity to do so now was surreal, albeit worrying.
Jungsu sat on the couch opposite, mouthing the words to his lines. Difficult though it was to avert his eyes from the intimate way Jungsu’s lips moved against his teeth, Youngwoon managed to keep his eyes on Jungsu's nose when he cleared his throat and said, "Hyung."
"Hm," Jungsu said noncommittally. It stung, but if there was anything Youngwoon was infamous for, it was his doggedness.
"Do you think we'll be okay?"
Jungsu's eyes flicked up sharply. "Yes, we will. We're glad to have you back. The fans are, too."
"What if --" Youngwoon bit the inside of his lip. "What if something happens?"
Jungsu's shoulders drew a tight line against the couch. "That's what rehearsals are for," he said. "Our comeback won't be performed live. There's nothing to worry about."
His Jungsu would not have treated a member’s concerns with such flippancy. "But what if?" he pressed.
"You won't," Jungsu said. At the softening of his mouth, Youngwoon almost sagged in relief. "I know you won't."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Jungsu said, eyes crinkling in a tentative smile.
Youngwoon grinned back. Gratified, he dropped his eyes back to his lyrics.
"So," Siwon said. "How are you?"
Youngwoon eyed him as he gulped down a mouthful of water and collapsed in an ungainly heap on the floor. "I'm not a guest, Siwon."
Siwon dimpled a smile at him. "Sorry," he said. "It's just -- it's been so long."
Youngwoon shrugged. "Since you asked, I feel great. All this dancing is doing me a world of good."
The practice room had not changed one iota. With its perpetually sticky floors and smudged glass, Youngwoon almost felt at home again. His rusty dancing skills had pushed him straight to the back of the formation, but truthfully he couldn't be more glad for it.
Laughing, Siwon said, "It's good to have you back, hyung."
Youngwoon grinned. "It's good to be back too." He looked over at Jungsu, who was staring listlessly at his iPhone. "Jungsu looks tired."
"He's been working himself too hard," Siwon said, mouth twisting. "I fear his workaholic tendencies have finally gotten the better of him."
"Haven't you tried to distract him?" Youngwoon asked.
"No one can, hyung," Siwon said sadly. "It worsened after you left. Getting him to leave SuKiRa was the most we could do."
"There must be something we can do," Youngwoon said, frowning.
"Yeah," Siwon said. "You can."
Youngwoon snorted. "We're not as close as we used to be. Haven't you noticed?"
"You have ten years worth of history," Siwon said. "Surely that must count for something."
"Not to him," Youngwoon said. Placing the bottle back on the floor, he got up. "Come on, I need help perfecting this move."
Siwon's words stuck to the back of Youngwoon's mind like particularly tenacious glue for the rest of the day, as well as the rest of the next day, and the following one. By the time Youngwoon convinced himself to follow Jungsu back to the dorms after practice three days later, he had worked himself into such a state of nerves that he was almost dizzy with it.
For understandable reasons, Youngwoon had avoided the dorms like the plague. Jungsu spent most of his time there; Youngwoon imagined watching Jungsu in the dorms would bring back vivid memories he did not have the strength to properly reminisce yet. Just the image of Jungsu's room, imprinted in Youngwoon's mind, was enough to remind him of Before, when he and Jungsu had spent many a secret night wrapped up in each other.
Of course, SME's announcement that Youngwoon would be halting all Super Junior activities had put a discernible strain on their relationship, and that was after Jungsu had sat him down and gave him a stern lecture about the importance of their career. The night before his enlistment, Jungsu had lain in Youngwoon's bed and kissed him softly, slowly. Sadly. He had said KangTeuk, forever, and Youngwoon had taken it at face value.
Now, Youngwoon followed Jungsu into the dorm, taking note of little differences. The shoe cabinet looked less messy -- perhaps it was because it was almost empty. Quieter than it had ever been in Youngwoon's time as an active Super Junior member, the dorm seemed less than he had imagined.
"It's been ages," Youngwoon marvelled.
"Some of them prefer to go home," Jungsu said. Kicking his shoes aside, he stretched, yawned, and headed to his room. Tentatively, Youngwoon followed.
"Still obsessed with white," he commented, resting against the doorframe and watching Jungsu divest himself of his shirt and slacks. Dressed only in his boxers, Jungsu lifted his eyebrows and squeezed past Youngwoon.
"Hyung," Youngwoon said, and touched Jungsu's waist.
Jungsu froze, stuck between Youngwoon and the doorframe. "Yeah," he said.
Youngwoon's brain had been wiped blank. He moved to rest his entire palm on Jungsu's waist, letting the heat of Jungsu's body seep through the skin of his hand. "I --" I miss you "I heard that you've been running yourself ragged."
Jungsu made an irritated clicking noise with his tongue. "I'm fine," he said.
"You promised to take care of yourself."
"I am."
As if to make his point, Youngwoon's hand drifted to Jungsu's ribs. "Guitar strings," he said.
The corner of Jungsu's mouth quirked. "Don't exaggerate. I have muscles now."
"It's not that I don't appreciate that," Youngwoon said, thumbing the line of Jungsu's rib, "But you're not sleeping enough." He brought his other hand up to swipe at the purple beneath Jungsu's eyes.
At last, Jungsu smiled. His eyes crinkled beneath Youngwoon's thumb, and Youngwoon leaned in and dropped a kiss on Jungsu's lips.
"Youngwoon," Jungsu said. Ignoring the warning note in his voice, Youngwoon pressed another kiss against the corner of his lips, against his dimple, and on the top of his nose.
Jungsu slid past him and away. "I'm going to bathe. You should, too," he said, fixing Youngwoon with a look that said all too clearly don't do it again. "You know where to find the towels?"
Feeling even more displaced than ever, Youngwoon nodded. Keeping a tight lid on his mounting frustration was trying enough without having to make civilised conversation with Jungsu.
When Jungsu entered the bathroom, Youngwoon left the dorm and never once looked back.
"I can't take it," Youngwoon said into his phone.
"Missing us already?" Lihyun asked.
"It's Jungsu," Youngwoon said. "He's driving me crazy."
"Doesn't he always do that?"
"It's a different kind of crazy. Listen, hypothetically speaking, say I have a significant other who broke up with me recently, but didn't tell me why. Should I ask and try to plead my case, or should I leave it? I wouldn't normally ask, but this is different. This being a completely hypothetical situation, of course."
"Don't know," Lihyun said. "Ask her, I guess. Girls like that sort of thing. They'll expect you to talk about your feelings after."
"Oh," Youngwoon said. "But what if this significant other keeps avoiding you?"
"Depends," Lihyun says. "Why would you avoid anyone?"
"Don’t know," Youngwoon said, frowning. “Because things are awkward? Because of unresolved issues?”
“There you go. Unresolved issues.” When Youngwoon doesn’t say anything in reply, Lihyun continues, "So what's this about Jungsu driving you crazy anyway, leader's man?"
"Oh," Youngwoon said, "Er, nothing. Just. Towels and things. Haha."
Gamely accepting Youngwoon's flimsy excuse, Lihyun proceeded to update him on the rest of boys. Youngwoon felt a pang of longing for the less stressful lifestyle of a military man, physical training notwithstanding. Although military training and idol training were not unlike, its company made all the difference.
Youngwoon recognized the box set from the A-Cha and Mr Simple music videos. It stood, sturdy and square, inside the warehouse, and was surrounded by cameras and cameramen alike. Glaring golden and skin-crawling hot were the set lights, which assaulted Youngwoon's eyes and left him seeing spots everywhere he looked.
The members loitered around in their outfits and make-up, waiting for instructions. Over at the side, Jungsu and Sungmin entertained the camera, faking horror at the spikes on their outfits. The rest were slumped in chairs, sneaking what little rest they could. Youngwoon himself was too jittery to sit down -- he paced the length of the wall, watching Jungsu while pretending to look like he wasn't watching Jungsu.
The loneliness ate at him.
Eventually the directors pointed them to their positions. The first segment alone required five retakes, three of which were because Youngwoon lagged by a split-second. By the time they were allowed a break, Youngwoon's face ached from holding back his scowl of dissatisfaction.
Before Youngwoon could even catch his breath, the stylists descended upon him like a horde of bees while Youngwoon glowered at the floor. He'd never had to deal with such cumbersome make-up in the military. For God's sake, just the simple act of wiping the sweat off his forehead got him reprimanded by the crazies.
"Here, hyung," Ryeowook said, approaching. He held out a water bottle. "You look thirsty."
"Thanks," Youngwoon said, taking the bottle and downing several gulps in one swallow. "You did good, just now."
"So did you," Ryeowook said. He rubbed his hands on his thighs. "We're going out for dinner tonight. You coming?"
It was a tradition of sorts. After a day -- and sometimes a night -- of filming, they would unanimously leave the warehouse for food -- it only made sense that they all ate together. It made for a rowdy restaurant, but it was fun all the same.
Sneaking a peek at Jungsu, Youngwoon was slightly concerned to see him at the cameras again. After that night, the air between them had felt tense and angry, as though even an infinitesimal spark of contact could trigger an explosion.
Youngwoon shrugged. "Cool. Thanks, Wook."
Ryeowook beamed. When the stylists finally let Youngwoon be, Ryeowook followed him to the chairs. He didn't leave.
Enduring the slow and draggy process of filming took Herculean strength of will. By the time the courteous well-dones and thank-yous stopped echoing in the warehouse, Youngwoon felt ready to drop dead on the floor. Instead, he fell into step with Shindong, who bumped shoulders with him but otherwise remained quiet.
Jungsu sat three seats down from Youngwoon. Although eating and celebrating with the members still felt bizarre, Youngwoon found that the more alcohol he consumed, the less he felt like an intruding oaf. Even so, he took care to count his glasses. Come hell or high water, getting inebriated in front of the members was out of the question. No sane man enjoyed feeling like a disappointment.
"You should have seen Jungsu-hyung," Donghae was saying. "He couldn't even pass her the rose properly."
"Watch it, Hae," Jungsu said, but he was smiling fondly.
"How is Sora anyway?" Hyukjae asked eagerly.
"Not missing you," Jungsu said. "Either of you."
Kyuhyun snorted. "You should get marriage tips from Youngwoon-hyung."
The smile on Youngwoon's face turned to ice. Nonetheless, he said, in a wizened tone of voice, "Ah, marriage. Some say it’s the first level of hell."
Although Youngwoon had been gratified to know that Jungsu and Sora had not yet kissed, it was only a matter of time. The prospect made him slightly green in the face.
"Sora is what any man would want in a woman," Jungsu said seriously. The table roared with laughter.
"Tell me that wasn't scripted," Hyukjae snorted.
"I like her!" Jungsu said. "She's very pretty!"
"She is," Siwon agreed. "But everything is a pretense, you know that."
"Shut up," Jungsu said.
"Don't let it fool you," Youngwoon said, leaning over. "Because you'll end up looking like it."
The table erupted into a gale of snickers. "Better be careful, hyung," Sungmin said. "Women are tricky."
The conversation soon took a turn for less perilous lands, skirting offensively filthy at one point, in which Hyukjae and his newest porn collection were targeted. Towards the end, when Jungsu had ingested so much alcohol he was practically sliding off his chair, Donghae offered to bring him home before he hit the table edge and knocked himself out.
Siwon had then happily volunteered Youngwoon to do the job, at which point Jungsu slurred, "Those were the good times, eh?" and slumped even further down his seat. Youngwoon was thus granted the lovely opportunity to lug home Jungsu's limp body, which at least concurred with Youngwoon's tugging in spite of Jungsu's vocal but essentially useless protests.
"Y'know what," Jungsu said drunkenly, slapping Youngwoon on the shoulder. Youngwoon only gripped him tighter and shoved him into the backseat of the car. "Y'know, Youngwoon, I think you're right."
"It's a miracle," Youngwoon muttered, climbing in after him. The manager locked the doors and hit the gas.
"Marriage," Jungsu elaborated, complete with hand gestures. "It's horrible. It's -- dating, and being shy, and not knowing what to do with my hands --" here he grabbed Youngwoon's knee, "-- makes me feel 16 all over again."
"God knows you need to feel young again, old man," Youngwoon said.
"Shut up," Jungsu said amicably. "Sora is a pretty, nice girl -- a pretty nice girl, she is. She's different though. I can't -- don't know how to treat her right."
Jungsu continued expounding, in an incredibly roundabout and illogical manner, on the topic until he passed out on Youngwoon's shoulder. It was good to know some things just never changed.
When they finally arrived at the dorms, Jungsu was completely dead to the world. Coaxing him out of sleep was one thing; keeping him awake was an entirely different matter.
"Just," Jungsu said into Youngwoon's neck, "Why. Let me sleep."
"Fucking lightweight," Youngwoon muttered, and dragged him into the elevator.
The ride up was agonising. Apart from the manager's suppressed grin, which was not obvious at all, no, Jungsu had completely violated every single rule about personal space and made himself at home around Youngwoon's shoulders. In the past week Jungsu had avoided physical contact like a pro. He might as well have written AVOIDING YOUNGWOON across his forehead in red ink and underlined it for all the intensity with which he'd gone at it. It would have felt a lot like taking advantage of a drunk if Youngwoon didn't already know, down to every intrinsic, intimate detail, how Jungsu's body felt like against his. As it were, it only felt a little bit like taking advantage of the drunk, but taking advantage all the same.
"You two will be fine?" the manager said. "I'm heading home."
"Yeah," Youngwoon said. "Do you know where the painkillers are?"
"Same place." At Youngwoon's questioning look, the manager corrected himself, "Kitchen cabinet, top shelf."
After he took his leave, Youngwoon began the torturous quest of getting Jungsu off the couch and into his room. Muttering, Jungsu toppled into bed, face down.
"You're lucky I love you," Youngwoon said, rolling Jungsu around so he wouldn't smother himself with the pillow in the middle of the night. He would hate to see it in the obituaries: Park Jungsu - death by pillow-asphyxiation. "I would never sleep with a lightweight. Completely useless in bed."
Jungsu only humphed in agreement and let out an impressive snore. Once Youngwoon had peeled off Jungsu's clothes and shucked them into the laundry basket, he went out to acquire the painkillers and a glass of water to leave by his bed.
The sight of Jungsu, vulnerable and relaxed in bed, made Youngwoon's chest twinge with sadness. It had been little more than a month since their break-up -- till now Youngwoon did not truly understand what that meant. The problem with being in a boy band was that one could never successfully avoid any member, what with all the members practising in the same room for hours every day. The most one could get to avoidance was being out of the other's proximity, and yet Jungsu was here, sleeping guilelessly, while Youngwoon hovered and died a little inside.
It struck him just how severely pathetic he had become. Before, Youngwoon would have locked the door, stripped Jungsu's clothes off and joined him in bed, no questions asked. When Youngwoon woke up the morning after, often without a hangover for he knew his limits better than Jungsu, he would have taken his time sliding down Jungsu's body and nosing at the line of hair snaking downwards. Jungsu had liked waking up to a blowjob, and Youngwoon had obliged happily.
Youngwoon was pigheaded for a reason. He refused to go down without a fight, and even if it did come to fisticuffs, at least he would do so to glean whatever it was that went through Jungsu's mind. If Jungsu thought he could get away from Youngwoon scot free, he clearly needed a reminder of just how much Youngwoon disapproved.
With that rolling around in Youngwoon's slightly tipsy brain, he shed his shirt and pants and slid into Jungsu's bed in quick succession. The last conscious thing he remembered before dropping off was Jungsu shifting closer.
Youngwoon woke up unforgivably warm. His pits were damp, and perspiration rested like little beads atop his forehead, waiting to roll down. Jungsu was still snoring gently behind him. Youngwoon could feel his breaths ghosting across the nape of his neck.
Oh, fuck.
Abruptly the section of Youngwoon's brain that dealt with common sense and logic kicked in. Shit. What had possessed him last night? He'd thought he could handle the alcohol, he'd thought --
Jungsu groaned, his body tensing behind Youngwoon. Fuck fuck fuck. He needed to get out of bed, posthaste. If Jungsu woke up -- best not to think about such things. Like greased lightning, Youngwoon slid off the bed, but alas he had missed out several important aspects in his panic, such as his destination.
"Ow fuck," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. It wouldn't be a surprise if Jungsu's bedside table had left a permanent dent in his skull.
"Wha --" Jungsu said from above, and Youngwoon lay flat on the floor and attempted to roll under the bed in short order. Fuck, he was only wearing his boxers. He spared a moment to bemoan his sanity's choice to take a vacation the previous night.
Jungsu groaned again, no doubt feeling the effects of last night's alcohol. Any moment now he would be leaning over to get the painkillers from his table, and Youngwoon's sneaky hide-out would be discovered. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for the best.
"Youngwoon?" Jungsu said. So much for going unnoticed then.
Youngwoon opened his eyes. "Hi," he said.
"Why are you --" Jungsu looked down at himself. "Why are we --" He waved a hand in the region of his naked torso. Youngwoon averted his eyes.
"About that," Youngwoon said. "You were completely plastered last night. I had to bring you back, and, um. Well, you see, I thought --"
Jungsu's frown killed any wayward explanations. "You thought?"
"I thought you would be uncomfortable, sleeping in your clothes, so I undressed you. I was a bit tipsy. Just a bit."
Jungsu exhaled through his mouth. "Thank God," he said, and knocked back his painkillers.
"What?" Youngwoon asked, sitting up.
"Nothing," Jungsu said. He flopped back down. "Oh, shit. What time is it?"
"No idea," Youngwoon said. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Yeah," Jungsu said, rolling over so that his back faced Youngwoon, "'M'going back to sleep."
"Practice starts at 10," Youngwoon said helpfully.
Picking up his clothes, he turned, and was just about to close the door behind him when Jungsu said, softly, like he hoped he wouldn't hear, "Youngwoon."
"Yeah?" Youngwoon asked, turning back around.
"I meant it," Jungsu said. "About us. We can't."
Trying not to sound plaintive, Youngwoon said, "I don't understand why."
"I'm joining the military this year."
Youngwoon frowned. "That's good."
"It's not," Jungsu said. "You have no idea."
"I used to. You used to tell me everything."
"That was a long time ago," Jungsu said. "We're different now."
Grasping at straws, Youngwoon said, "I haven't changed. I still -- I wanted you to --"
"Did you expect me to wait for you?" Jungsu asked, sounding angry.
"I'd hoped you would!" Youngwoon said, raising his voice. He took a deep breath. "You have Sora now. I understand."
"You don't," Jungsu said. "You don't understand anything."
"I used to," Youngwoon repeated, and left. He dressed in the living room, simmering with rage, and it was only out of some misplaced sense of consideration that he didn't slam the front door on his way out.
When he rounded the corner, a splash of red paint caught his eye. On the wall where fans who snuck past security would leave loving messages, a message had been scrawled out in red spray paint. Go back to the military, Kangin, it read. Super Junior doesn't need you.
Receiving death notes from Super Junior anti-fans had been unsettling enough. Acting as a third-party to hordes of fans -- their fans -- rioting outside the SM building for the expulsion of Henry and Zhou Mi had been nothing short of horrifying, and having their anger turn on him was almost overwhelming.
A wave of self-deprecation washed over Youngwoon. They were right, whoever they were. Super Junior's umma and appa had gotten their divorce; what worth was he to Super Junior now that he couldn't even be Jungsu's comfort blanket? He was neither the best singer nor a particularly exemplary dancer. He did not have the natural flair for emceeing like Jungsu did, and it wasn't like he could just volunteer himself to DJ in Kiss The Radio. The other members had done just fine without him in the past. Even Heechul's enlistment had barely caused the group to lose their footing.
Forlornly, Youngwoon stepped into the elevator and went back home.
Part Two
Anyway, when Kangin returned huffly and I started discussing the resurfacing of the KangTeuk ship, and then Kangin came back ACTIVELY and everything went to shit from there. This was meant to be a drabble but evolved monstrously into a 9K word long fic, which was not my intention AT ALL. In any case, HUGE GIGANTIC TRUCKLOADS of thanks to huffly, who doubled up as my beta and, er, KangTeuk stan-friend (???). Her feedback has been fantastic and spectacular and this fic? Would be a huge cliche without her. So. Yes. SHE GETS ALL THE LOVE ♥!!!
Title: From Here to Eternity
Pairing: Kangin/Leeteuk
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9300
Summary: Youngwoon returns from the army, but things aren't all smooth sailing. There is, for one, the fact that he's had little to no contact with the members for approximately two years. Then there's the part where Jungsu avoids him like a pro. Needless to say, the sea is as choppy as hell.
The 16th of April dawned bright and promising. Grimacing, Youngwoon rolled up his socks, which stank like the sewers on a hot summer's day.
"Your fans are waiting," Lihyun said, watching Youngwoon pack.
Youngwoon grunted. He stuffed his backpack closed and zipped it violently.
"You don't look happy," Lihyun said.
"Shut up," Youngwoon said brusquely. He stared at a torn patch of his backpack, and added, "I am."
"Are you? A little bird tells me you're afraid to see them after all this time."
"Afraid?" Youngwoon snorted. "Who said anything about afraid?"
Lihyun shrugged when Youngwoon turned around, hefting his backpack on his shoulders. "A little bird."
"You know, if I didn't like you," Youngwoon said, shouldering past Lihyun and pretending not to cower at the prospect of closing the distance between Youngwoon and Kangin, "You would be dead meat by now. Dead. Like bulgogi."
"If you say so," Lihyun said agreeably. He followed closely behind Youngwoon. "We'll miss you."
"Save it," Youngwoon said, "I heard you crying last night."
"Shut up," Lihyun said.
"Don't you have somewhere to be, little bird?" Youngwoon asked over his shoulder.
"Don't you have somewhere to be, leader's man?" Lihyun jerked his chin towards the entrance of the military camp, eyes twinkling. "They're waiting."
Youngwoon left his backpack by the entrance and wiped his hands on his thighs. The practice of embracing the swell of love and bracing against the swell of hate had long left Youngwoon's capabilities; the only remaining quality he had to offer was but a fragile thing -- friendship.
Real men are not allowed to be nervous, Youngwoon told himself sternly. He was going to go out there, be a man, and go home. Maybe patch things up with Jungsu, however tall a glass of water that promised to be.
His mother always said: the sooner you do it, the faster you'll get it over and done with. This was going to be easy. Piece of cake. Squeezing lemons and everything.
Placing his hands decisively on his waist, he stole a deep breath that did nothing to ease his heart rate, strode out, and --
-- and reduced himself to a grinning maniac. He did not run to Jungsu, whose arms were spread wide open like some godforsaken angel, but he came close to it.
"Hyung," he breathed, and tried not to say anything more after that for fear his voice cracked.
Jungsu said nothing, just sniffed wetly down his neck and wrapped his arms around Youngwoon, squeezing the living breath out of his lungs. Youngwoon let his hand slip to the small of Jungsu's back, indulging in the moment. It would be real, Youngwoon thought wistfully, if not for the audience of cameras.
Don't be such a girl, he wanted to say, but he knew better. Jungsu could be a magnificent actor when he wanted to. With the fans' expectations never far behind Jungsu's every action, it was no surprise that he had to live up to their heights, and if that called for Oscar-worthy acting skills, well, Jungsu never mentioned it.
He looked up, and the rest of Super Junior descended like a particularly ominous storm cloud.
"And then -- wait for it -- his pants went schreek! and tore right down the middle."
"Thanks, Hae," Hyukjae said, "I really needed everyone to know that."
"It'll never stop being funny though," Kyuhyun said, turning around in the passenger seat.
Youngwoon grinned at their familiar banter, and unconsciously his eyes sought out Jungsu's, who sat beside him. Rolling his eyes to the heavens, Jungsu gave him a tight smile. Youngwoon felt his own grin falter.
Discreetly, he reached for Jungsu's hand, longing for the smallest assurance. For the shortest second, Jungsu curled his little finger around Youngwoon's, but he quickly followed it with a warning glare and snatched his hand back to his lap. Irritated, Youngwoon shifted away from Jungsu.
"We," Jungsu said, turning slightly, "Need to talk."
Youngwoon swallowed at Jungsu's breath against his ear, and nodded.
They didn't talk.
It was no fault of Jungsu's, since Youngwoon spent most of his time cooped up in his apartment. If he wasn't staring at his ceiling calculating the levels of misery his life could reach before he quit Super Junior, he was at home with his family trying to evade the loneliness that pervaded every inch of his person anyway.
On particularly gloomy days, Youngwoon looked to alcohol. By his third soju bottle, however, Youngwoon would remember the looks of dismay and disappointment on the members' faces, would remember reading Jungsu's cyworld entry, and he would head to bed.
In a fit of immaturity, he had left his mobile phone under his pillow so he wouldn't feel it sit silently in his pocket. When he couldn't resist lifting the pillow and checking his empty screen for missed calls, Youngwoon took a ladder to the storeroom and placed his mobile phone in the highest cabinet. Then he closed the storeroom door and locked it.
"Call my apartment phone," he had told his family, "My phone's keypad is broken."
Jungsu was too busy to deal with the likes of him. Youngwoon sometimes searched news sites for Super Junior, and often kept tabs on Jungsu's activities. If he didn't know that Jungsu was biding his time like a miffed cat licking its paws clean, he would've thought Jungsu had forgotten his very existence.
Which was why it came as a complete surprise when his doorbell rang and Youngwoon opened the door to see an impatient-looking Jungsu, who walked right past him into the living room.
"I'll be in the car," their manager said, and left.
Stunned, Youngwoon shut the door and blinked at the grainy wood. It looked convincingly woody, for a dream.
"Are you going to stand there staring at the door like an idiot or are we going to talk?" Jungsu asked.
"Touchy," Youngwoon blurted, then whacked himself mentally. He turned around. Like a man. "I mean, yes. Hyung. Jungsu-hyung. Have you been sleeping?"
"I took special pains to find the time in my schedule to give you a house-call," Jungsu said. “Have you been sleeping?
“Of course,” Youngwoon said. “Unlike someone.”
“I’m very busy.”
"What, playing husband to Sora?" Youngwoon asked, a touch too early for his upper brain functions to kick in.
Jungsu looked slightly surprised, but he brushed past the barb like he was used to it. "You haven't been picking up my calls."
"About that," Youngwoon said. He shuffled his feet and found sudden interest in a particularly intriguing looking crack on the wall. "My keypad broke?"
"You can't lie to me, Youngwoon."
"No, of course not," he agreed, and shuffled his feet again.
"Well?"
"What's with the questions? Maybe I didn't want to pick them up! Maybe I don't want to talk to you!"
Jungsu's jaw twitched. "Youngwoon."
"Shut up," Youngwoon said, overwhelmed, "Shut up shut up shut up."
Jungsu visibly softened. "Youngwoon," he said, gentler now, "We need to talk."
"Talk then!" Youngwoon said.
"Things have -- things have changed," Jungsu said, swallowing. Youngwoon tried not to watch Jungsu's Adam's apple as it bobbed, but it proved to be quite a task. "We're not, you know. We can't go back to before."
There was Before, and then there was After. Before, things had been fucking fantastic. He'd had Jungsu, and fame, and money. Then he had turned jaded, and become careless.
"What are you saying?" Youngwoon said.
"Us," Jungsu said. "You, me. It's not working out."
"But," Youngwoon said, struggling not to sound like a petulant child, "Before I enlisted, you said --"
"'We'll be KangTeuk forever'?" Jungsu said, "I had to. I couldn't take that away from you. Not after everything."
"So -- what?" Youngwoon demanded, even when all he wanted to say was but I love you. “I don’t have anything back!”
"But you do," Jungsu said. "You're joining us for 6jib."
Youngwoon threw himself into the practices with all the strength and vigour of a half-starved lion. Apart from the occasional solo performance, two years in the military did his dancing and singing skills no favours. His vocal trainers tutted at him and made him start from the basics; his dance trainers made him run through the routines for every single song, starting from Knock Out, in front of the mirror; Lee Soo Man flat out told him to lose weight, and to lose it fast.
By the time mid-May rolled around, Youngwoon had refreshed his muscle memories, relearned his lines, and, most crucial of all, (mostly) renewed his bonds with the members. Even Sungmin stayed awkward as ever, which was a familiarity Youngwoon didn't know he would appreciate until now.
His exchanges with Jungsu were genial at best, and strained at worst. Each time Youngwoon tried to corner Jungsu alone to talk properly, he managed to slip through one way or another. One day it would be an urgent meeting with the boss; the next, a show to emcee.
Jungsu had changed since Youngwoon last practised with Super Junior as an active member. He no longer required Youngwoon's discipline; during the two years Youngwoon had spent being absent, Jungsu had acquired his own innate strength. He was prickly and reserved -- even more so than before -- and let no one through his self-imposed barriers.
Quite frankly, Youngwoon preferred the old Jungsu, whom he saw only on occasion. When Jungsu messed up a step, the familiar glint of self-deprecation returned to his eyes; when Jungsu closed his eyes in exhaustion and let his sweat bead down his neck, Youngwoon found comfort in the grim line of his jaw. Every smile of his incited in Youngwoon a pathetic desire to kiss his lips; every disappointed frown gave Youngwoon reason to smooth it out with his fingers.
Everyday, he wondered if things could be different if only he had had the courage to say the L word. Despite his failings, Jungsu was not a heartless man.
Right then. Youngwoon had charged someone with the job of making sure Jungsu didn’t work himself to death, and this someone would know what to do with this mess. He always did, even though his methods were often rather outlandish.
"What is it?" was the first thing Heechul said. "Make it quick, I'm about to go to sleep."
"It's Youngwoon," Youngwoon said. "I'm fine, how about you?"
"Skip the pleasantries," Heechul drawled. "Well?"
"It's Jungsu," Youngwoon said, gripping his phone. "What the hell happened?"
"What the hell what happened?"
"He's different!"
"Yes, people do that," Heechul said drily. "No one can remain the same for two years. Did you expect him to wait for you?"
"Well," Youngwoon said. He paused. "Well, yes."
"He didn't."
"I know."
"And?"
"Forget it," Youngwoon said, scowling furiously. "Night, hyung."
"Night," Heechul said, adding as an afterthought, "It's all just a defence mechanism. You know that, don't you?"
"What?"
Heechul sighed. "Gotta go, Youngwoon. Bye."
"Wait --"
The line went dead.
He recorded his first song -- in two years -- in June. Granted, he had less lines than before, but he would take what he could get. His odds of not messing up a performance tipped in his favour if he had only five seconds in the limelight, after all. Youngwoon was not nearly delusional enough to ignore his jumpy nerves and demand for more. Not with so much at stake.
The air-conditioner was no longer so much an irritating buzz in the background as it was a familiar comfort. Against the walls of the waiting room stood couches, as plush and fancy as ever. It still surprised Youngwoon how much had remained unchanged in the face of such life-turning events; he honestly had not dared to hope that he would ever stand on stage with everyone else again. To be granted the opportunity to do so now was surreal, albeit worrying.
Jungsu sat on the couch opposite, mouthing the words to his lines. Difficult though it was to avert his eyes from the intimate way Jungsu’s lips moved against his teeth, Youngwoon managed to keep his eyes on Jungsu's nose when he cleared his throat and said, "Hyung."
"Hm," Jungsu said noncommittally. It stung, but if there was anything Youngwoon was infamous for, it was his doggedness.
"Do you think we'll be okay?"
Jungsu's eyes flicked up sharply. "Yes, we will. We're glad to have you back. The fans are, too."
"What if --" Youngwoon bit the inside of his lip. "What if something happens?"
Jungsu's shoulders drew a tight line against the couch. "That's what rehearsals are for," he said. "Our comeback won't be performed live. There's nothing to worry about."
His Jungsu would not have treated a member’s concerns with such flippancy. "But what if?" he pressed.
"You won't," Jungsu said. At the softening of his mouth, Youngwoon almost sagged in relief. "I know you won't."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Jungsu said, eyes crinkling in a tentative smile.
Youngwoon grinned back. Gratified, he dropped his eyes back to his lyrics.
"So," Siwon said. "How are you?"
Youngwoon eyed him as he gulped down a mouthful of water and collapsed in an ungainly heap on the floor. "I'm not a guest, Siwon."
Siwon dimpled a smile at him. "Sorry," he said. "It's just -- it's been so long."
Youngwoon shrugged. "Since you asked, I feel great. All this dancing is doing me a world of good."
The practice room had not changed one iota. With its perpetually sticky floors and smudged glass, Youngwoon almost felt at home again. His rusty dancing skills had pushed him straight to the back of the formation, but truthfully he couldn't be more glad for it.
Laughing, Siwon said, "It's good to have you back, hyung."
Youngwoon grinned. "It's good to be back too." He looked over at Jungsu, who was staring listlessly at his iPhone. "Jungsu looks tired."
"He's been working himself too hard," Siwon said, mouth twisting. "I fear his workaholic tendencies have finally gotten the better of him."
"Haven't you tried to distract him?" Youngwoon asked.
"No one can, hyung," Siwon said sadly. "It worsened after you left. Getting him to leave SuKiRa was the most we could do."
"There must be something we can do," Youngwoon said, frowning.
"Yeah," Siwon said. "You can."
Youngwoon snorted. "We're not as close as we used to be. Haven't you noticed?"
"You have ten years worth of history," Siwon said. "Surely that must count for something."
"Not to him," Youngwoon said. Placing the bottle back on the floor, he got up. "Come on, I need help perfecting this move."
Siwon's words stuck to the back of Youngwoon's mind like particularly tenacious glue for the rest of the day, as well as the rest of the next day, and the following one. By the time Youngwoon convinced himself to follow Jungsu back to the dorms after practice three days later, he had worked himself into such a state of nerves that he was almost dizzy with it.
For understandable reasons, Youngwoon had avoided the dorms like the plague. Jungsu spent most of his time there; Youngwoon imagined watching Jungsu in the dorms would bring back vivid memories he did not have the strength to properly reminisce yet. Just the image of Jungsu's room, imprinted in Youngwoon's mind, was enough to remind him of Before, when he and Jungsu had spent many a secret night wrapped up in each other.
Of course, SME's announcement that Youngwoon would be halting all Super Junior activities had put a discernible strain on their relationship, and that was after Jungsu had sat him down and gave him a stern lecture about the importance of their career. The night before his enlistment, Jungsu had lain in Youngwoon's bed and kissed him softly, slowly. Sadly. He had said KangTeuk, forever, and Youngwoon had taken it at face value.
Now, Youngwoon followed Jungsu into the dorm, taking note of little differences. The shoe cabinet looked less messy -- perhaps it was because it was almost empty. Quieter than it had ever been in Youngwoon's time as an active Super Junior member, the dorm seemed less than he had imagined.
"It's been ages," Youngwoon marvelled.
"Some of them prefer to go home," Jungsu said. Kicking his shoes aside, he stretched, yawned, and headed to his room. Tentatively, Youngwoon followed.
"Still obsessed with white," he commented, resting against the doorframe and watching Jungsu divest himself of his shirt and slacks. Dressed only in his boxers, Jungsu lifted his eyebrows and squeezed past Youngwoon.
"Hyung," Youngwoon said, and touched Jungsu's waist.
Jungsu froze, stuck between Youngwoon and the doorframe. "Yeah," he said.
Youngwoon's brain had been wiped blank. He moved to rest his entire palm on Jungsu's waist, letting the heat of Jungsu's body seep through the skin of his hand. "I --" I miss you "I heard that you've been running yourself ragged."
Jungsu made an irritated clicking noise with his tongue. "I'm fine," he said.
"You promised to take care of yourself."
"I am."
As if to make his point, Youngwoon's hand drifted to Jungsu's ribs. "Guitar strings," he said.
The corner of Jungsu's mouth quirked. "Don't exaggerate. I have muscles now."
"It's not that I don't appreciate that," Youngwoon said, thumbing the line of Jungsu's rib, "But you're not sleeping enough." He brought his other hand up to swipe at the purple beneath Jungsu's eyes.
At last, Jungsu smiled. His eyes crinkled beneath Youngwoon's thumb, and Youngwoon leaned in and dropped a kiss on Jungsu's lips.
"Youngwoon," Jungsu said. Ignoring the warning note in his voice, Youngwoon pressed another kiss against the corner of his lips, against his dimple, and on the top of his nose.
Jungsu slid past him and away. "I'm going to bathe. You should, too," he said, fixing Youngwoon with a look that said all too clearly don't do it again. "You know where to find the towels?"
Feeling even more displaced than ever, Youngwoon nodded. Keeping a tight lid on his mounting frustration was trying enough without having to make civilised conversation with Jungsu.
When Jungsu entered the bathroom, Youngwoon left the dorm and never once looked back.
"I can't take it," Youngwoon said into his phone.
"Missing us already?" Lihyun asked.
"It's Jungsu," Youngwoon said. "He's driving me crazy."
"Doesn't he always do that?"
"It's a different kind of crazy. Listen, hypothetically speaking, say I have a significant other who broke up with me recently, but didn't tell me why. Should I ask and try to plead my case, or should I leave it? I wouldn't normally ask, but this is different. This being a completely hypothetical situation, of course."
"Don't know," Lihyun said. "Ask her, I guess. Girls like that sort of thing. They'll expect you to talk about your feelings after."
"Oh," Youngwoon said. "But what if this significant other keeps avoiding you?"
"Depends," Lihyun says. "Why would you avoid anyone?"
"Don’t know," Youngwoon said, frowning. “Because things are awkward? Because of unresolved issues?”
“There you go. Unresolved issues.” When Youngwoon doesn’t say anything in reply, Lihyun continues, "So what's this about Jungsu driving you crazy anyway, leader's man?"
"Oh," Youngwoon said, "Er, nothing. Just. Towels and things. Haha."
Gamely accepting Youngwoon's flimsy excuse, Lihyun proceeded to update him on the rest of boys. Youngwoon felt a pang of longing for the less stressful lifestyle of a military man, physical training notwithstanding. Although military training and idol training were not unlike, its company made all the difference.
Youngwoon recognized the box set from the A-Cha and Mr Simple music videos. It stood, sturdy and square, inside the warehouse, and was surrounded by cameras and cameramen alike. Glaring golden and skin-crawling hot were the set lights, which assaulted Youngwoon's eyes and left him seeing spots everywhere he looked.
The members loitered around in their outfits and make-up, waiting for instructions. Over at the side, Jungsu and Sungmin entertained the camera, faking horror at the spikes on their outfits. The rest were slumped in chairs, sneaking what little rest they could. Youngwoon himself was too jittery to sit down -- he paced the length of the wall, watching Jungsu while pretending to look like he wasn't watching Jungsu.
The loneliness ate at him.
Eventually the directors pointed them to their positions. The first segment alone required five retakes, three of which were because Youngwoon lagged by a split-second. By the time they were allowed a break, Youngwoon's face ached from holding back his scowl of dissatisfaction.
Before Youngwoon could even catch his breath, the stylists descended upon him like a horde of bees while Youngwoon glowered at the floor. He'd never had to deal with such cumbersome make-up in the military. For God's sake, just the simple act of wiping the sweat off his forehead got him reprimanded by the crazies.
"Here, hyung," Ryeowook said, approaching. He held out a water bottle. "You look thirsty."
"Thanks," Youngwoon said, taking the bottle and downing several gulps in one swallow. "You did good, just now."
"So did you," Ryeowook said. He rubbed his hands on his thighs. "We're going out for dinner tonight. You coming?"
It was a tradition of sorts. After a day -- and sometimes a night -- of filming, they would unanimously leave the warehouse for food -- it only made sense that they all ate together. It made for a rowdy restaurant, but it was fun all the same.
Sneaking a peek at Jungsu, Youngwoon was slightly concerned to see him at the cameras again. After that night, the air between them had felt tense and angry, as though even an infinitesimal spark of contact could trigger an explosion.
Youngwoon shrugged. "Cool. Thanks, Wook."
Ryeowook beamed. When the stylists finally let Youngwoon be, Ryeowook followed him to the chairs. He didn't leave.
Enduring the slow and draggy process of filming took Herculean strength of will. By the time the courteous well-dones and thank-yous stopped echoing in the warehouse, Youngwoon felt ready to drop dead on the floor. Instead, he fell into step with Shindong, who bumped shoulders with him but otherwise remained quiet.
Jungsu sat three seats down from Youngwoon. Although eating and celebrating with the members still felt bizarre, Youngwoon found that the more alcohol he consumed, the less he felt like an intruding oaf. Even so, he took care to count his glasses. Come hell or high water, getting inebriated in front of the members was out of the question. No sane man enjoyed feeling like a disappointment.
"You should have seen Jungsu-hyung," Donghae was saying. "He couldn't even pass her the rose properly."
"Watch it, Hae," Jungsu said, but he was smiling fondly.
"How is Sora anyway?" Hyukjae asked eagerly.
"Not missing you," Jungsu said. "Either of you."
Kyuhyun snorted. "You should get marriage tips from Youngwoon-hyung."
The smile on Youngwoon's face turned to ice. Nonetheless, he said, in a wizened tone of voice, "Ah, marriage. Some say it’s the first level of hell."
Although Youngwoon had been gratified to know that Jungsu and Sora had not yet kissed, it was only a matter of time. The prospect made him slightly green in the face.
"Sora is what any man would want in a woman," Jungsu said seriously. The table roared with laughter.
"Tell me that wasn't scripted," Hyukjae snorted.
"I like her!" Jungsu said. "She's very pretty!"
"She is," Siwon agreed. "But everything is a pretense, you know that."
"Shut up," Jungsu said.
"Don't let it fool you," Youngwoon said, leaning over. "Because you'll end up looking like it."
The table erupted into a gale of snickers. "Better be careful, hyung," Sungmin said. "Women are tricky."
The conversation soon took a turn for less perilous lands, skirting offensively filthy at one point, in which Hyukjae and his newest porn collection were targeted. Towards the end, when Jungsu had ingested so much alcohol he was practically sliding off his chair, Donghae offered to bring him home before he hit the table edge and knocked himself out.
Siwon had then happily volunteered Youngwoon to do the job, at which point Jungsu slurred, "Those were the good times, eh?" and slumped even further down his seat. Youngwoon was thus granted the lovely opportunity to lug home Jungsu's limp body, which at least concurred with Youngwoon's tugging in spite of Jungsu's vocal but essentially useless protests.
"Y'know what," Jungsu said drunkenly, slapping Youngwoon on the shoulder. Youngwoon only gripped him tighter and shoved him into the backseat of the car. "Y'know, Youngwoon, I think you're right."
"It's a miracle," Youngwoon muttered, climbing in after him. The manager locked the doors and hit the gas.
"Marriage," Jungsu elaborated, complete with hand gestures. "It's horrible. It's -- dating, and being shy, and not knowing what to do with my hands --" here he grabbed Youngwoon's knee, "-- makes me feel 16 all over again."
"God knows you need to feel young again, old man," Youngwoon said.
"Shut up," Jungsu said amicably. "Sora is a pretty, nice girl -- a pretty nice girl, she is. She's different though. I can't -- don't know how to treat her right."
Jungsu continued expounding, in an incredibly roundabout and illogical manner, on the topic until he passed out on Youngwoon's shoulder. It was good to know some things just never changed.
When they finally arrived at the dorms, Jungsu was completely dead to the world. Coaxing him out of sleep was one thing; keeping him awake was an entirely different matter.
"Just," Jungsu said into Youngwoon's neck, "Why. Let me sleep."
"Fucking lightweight," Youngwoon muttered, and dragged him into the elevator.
The ride up was agonising. Apart from the manager's suppressed grin, which was not obvious at all, no, Jungsu had completely violated every single rule about personal space and made himself at home around Youngwoon's shoulders. In the past week Jungsu had avoided physical contact like a pro. He might as well have written AVOIDING YOUNGWOON across his forehead in red ink and underlined it for all the intensity with which he'd gone at it. It would have felt a lot like taking advantage of a drunk if Youngwoon didn't already know, down to every intrinsic, intimate detail, how Jungsu's body felt like against his. As it were, it only felt a little bit like taking advantage of the drunk, but taking advantage all the same.
"You two will be fine?" the manager said. "I'm heading home."
"Yeah," Youngwoon said. "Do you know where the painkillers are?"
"Same place." At Youngwoon's questioning look, the manager corrected himself, "Kitchen cabinet, top shelf."
After he took his leave, Youngwoon began the torturous quest of getting Jungsu off the couch and into his room. Muttering, Jungsu toppled into bed, face down.
"You're lucky I love you," Youngwoon said, rolling Jungsu around so he wouldn't smother himself with the pillow in the middle of the night. He would hate to see it in the obituaries: Park Jungsu - death by pillow-asphyxiation. "I would never sleep with a lightweight. Completely useless in bed."
Jungsu only humphed in agreement and let out an impressive snore. Once Youngwoon had peeled off Jungsu's clothes and shucked them into the laundry basket, he went out to acquire the painkillers and a glass of water to leave by his bed.
The sight of Jungsu, vulnerable and relaxed in bed, made Youngwoon's chest twinge with sadness. It had been little more than a month since their break-up -- till now Youngwoon did not truly understand what that meant. The problem with being in a boy band was that one could never successfully avoid any member, what with all the members practising in the same room for hours every day. The most one could get to avoidance was being out of the other's proximity, and yet Jungsu was here, sleeping guilelessly, while Youngwoon hovered and died a little inside.
It struck him just how severely pathetic he had become. Before, Youngwoon would have locked the door, stripped Jungsu's clothes off and joined him in bed, no questions asked. When Youngwoon woke up the morning after, often without a hangover for he knew his limits better than Jungsu, he would have taken his time sliding down Jungsu's body and nosing at the line of hair snaking downwards. Jungsu had liked waking up to a blowjob, and Youngwoon had obliged happily.
Youngwoon was pigheaded for a reason. He refused to go down without a fight, and even if it did come to fisticuffs, at least he would do so to glean whatever it was that went through Jungsu's mind. If Jungsu thought he could get away from Youngwoon scot free, he clearly needed a reminder of just how much Youngwoon disapproved.
With that rolling around in Youngwoon's slightly tipsy brain, he shed his shirt and pants and slid into Jungsu's bed in quick succession. The last conscious thing he remembered before dropping off was Jungsu shifting closer.
Youngwoon woke up unforgivably warm. His pits were damp, and perspiration rested like little beads atop his forehead, waiting to roll down. Jungsu was still snoring gently behind him. Youngwoon could feel his breaths ghosting across the nape of his neck.
Oh, fuck.
Abruptly the section of Youngwoon's brain that dealt with common sense and logic kicked in. Shit. What had possessed him last night? He'd thought he could handle the alcohol, he'd thought --
Jungsu groaned, his body tensing behind Youngwoon. Fuck fuck fuck. He needed to get out of bed, posthaste. If Jungsu woke up -- best not to think about such things. Like greased lightning, Youngwoon slid off the bed, but alas he had missed out several important aspects in his panic, such as his destination.
"Ow fuck," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. It wouldn't be a surprise if Jungsu's bedside table had left a permanent dent in his skull.
"Wha --" Jungsu said from above, and Youngwoon lay flat on the floor and attempted to roll under the bed in short order. Fuck, he was only wearing his boxers. He spared a moment to bemoan his sanity's choice to take a vacation the previous night.
Jungsu groaned again, no doubt feeling the effects of last night's alcohol. Any moment now he would be leaning over to get the painkillers from his table, and Youngwoon's sneaky hide-out would be discovered. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for the best.
"Youngwoon?" Jungsu said. So much for going unnoticed then.
Youngwoon opened his eyes. "Hi," he said.
"Why are you --" Jungsu looked down at himself. "Why are we --" He waved a hand in the region of his naked torso. Youngwoon averted his eyes.
"About that," Youngwoon said. "You were completely plastered last night. I had to bring you back, and, um. Well, you see, I thought --"
Jungsu's frown killed any wayward explanations. "You thought?"
"I thought you would be uncomfortable, sleeping in your clothes, so I undressed you. I was a bit tipsy. Just a bit."
Jungsu exhaled through his mouth. "Thank God," he said, and knocked back his painkillers.
"What?" Youngwoon asked, sitting up.
"Nothing," Jungsu said. He flopped back down. "Oh, shit. What time is it?"
"No idea," Youngwoon said. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Yeah," Jungsu said, rolling over so that his back faced Youngwoon, "'M'going back to sleep."
"Practice starts at 10," Youngwoon said helpfully.
Picking up his clothes, he turned, and was just about to close the door behind him when Jungsu said, softly, like he hoped he wouldn't hear, "Youngwoon."
"Yeah?" Youngwoon asked, turning back around.
"I meant it," Jungsu said. "About us. We can't."
Trying not to sound plaintive, Youngwoon said, "I don't understand why."
"I'm joining the military this year."
Youngwoon frowned. "That's good."
"It's not," Jungsu said. "You have no idea."
"I used to. You used to tell me everything."
"That was a long time ago," Jungsu said. "We're different now."
Grasping at straws, Youngwoon said, "I haven't changed. I still -- I wanted you to --"
"Did you expect me to wait for you?" Jungsu asked, sounding angry.
"I'd hoped you would!" Youngwoon said, raising his voice. He took a deep breath. "You have Sora now. I understand."
"You don't," Jungsu said. "You don't understand anything."
"I used to," Youngwoon repeated, and left. He dressed in the living room, simmering with rage, and it was only out of some misplaced sense of consideration that he didn't slam the front door on his way out.
When he rounded the corner, a splash of red paint caught his eye. On the wall where fans who snuck past security would leave loving messages, a message had been scrawled out in red spray paint. Go back to the military, Kangin, it read. Super Junior doesn't need you.
Receiving death notes from Super Junior anti-fans had been unsettling enough. Acting as a third-party to hordes of fans -- their fans -- rioting outside the SM building for the expulsion of Henry and Zhou Mi had been nothing short of horrifying, and having their anger turn on him was almost overwhelming.
A wave of self-deprecation washed over Youngwoon. They were right, whoever they were. Super Junior's umma and appa had gotten their divorce; what worth was he to Super Junior now that he couldn't even be Jungsu's comfort blanket? He was neither the best singer nor a particularly exemplary dancer. He did not have the natural flair for emceeing like Jungsu did, and it wasn't like he could just volunteer himself to DJ in Kiss The Radio. The other members had done just fine without him in the past. Even Heechul's enlistment had barely caused the group to lose their footing.
Forlornly, Youngwoon stepped into the elevator and went back home.
Part Two