Yoochunnie~
You don't cry on stage anymore, do you?
You don’t cry anymore because you’re used to it. You stare into the audience, and you see faces, smiling because of you, crying for you.
Them, those people, you know they're here not just because of the three of you, but because of the five of you. Just like you, they settle for this.
You watch your brothers, their cheeks wet but despite being known as the cry baby, not a single tear escapes you. You don’t cry on stage because you tell yourself you’re used to it. You don’t cry on stage, because when you look at your two other companions, you think, this is it, maybe this is as good as it’s going to get. You think you should be content. You think that this is right. You don’t cry, not anymore.
You sing. You smile. You flinch a little as the spotlight hits your face. You know something is missing, but you’re happy. You’re happy because you should be. Because you know you should be thankful for another opportunity to express yourself, to give a part of yourself to the fans who have always been behind your back. You’re happy because you stand with pride, knowing that you’re doing this for your passion. The two people beside you, you know they’ll never leave you. And it’s enough to make you survive another night. Another concert.
You don’t cry on stage anymore. You’re stronger.
You don’t cry on stage anymore. You’re happy.
But when you go home, to that empty room, you huddle yourself in the corner of your bed. You clutch on the sheets, doing your best to ignore the fact that you could barely breathe, that your heart is so heavy it feels like giving up. You try to ignore the memories, both good and bad, as they flash in your head. You try to ignore the urge to scream, wishing for everything to just go back to normal.
You shake your head, scolding yourself. From now on, this is normal. You whisper.
You remember the banners which caught your eyes. Always keep the faith. Then you laugh a little, mocking yourself. Even you yourself don't know what it stands for anymore.
The quietness makes you imagine things, it triggers memories.
Hyung! You ate my cake!
Yoochun, get up, it’s time for rehearsals.
The voices echo but when you search for where they're coming from, you see nothing. Not a trace of either of them.
The night reminds you of how it used to be. Of how the stage was a lot less empty. Of how it was the perfect size for the five of you. Of how the lights used to shine for two more people.
And there, in your own little stage, the one where only you can see yourself, you cry. You weep when it’s all over, when no one could see.
Because you know, that no matter how strong you become, you cannot turn back time, you fear that you’ll never get over this certain heartbreak. You know, no matter how strong you are, parts, specifically two parts, of you will be missing.
You weep. You bang your fists on the bed.
You weep. You wipe your tears on your shirt.
Tears fall because your heart wishes not to become stronger. In fact you never cared about your own strength because, before, as long as the five of you were together, it didn’t matter if you were frail, because they had your back.
Your heart never wanted to become stronger, it wanted to be content.
And the next day you open your eyes. The tears have dried and you feel somewhat hopeful. Maybe something good will come up. A call maybe, or a suprise visit, but you immediately shake your head, realizing that it was too much to expect of the world. Today is another stop, another concert. You won't cry on stage, but you already dread returning to the same bed because that's where you can't deny yourself of your feelings.
