broken wings.
every child is born with a dream, albeit it being fickle and petty at times, but joonmyun doesn't know (isn't sure) if allowing himself to get swallowed into a bottomless pit in lieu of letting five other boys shine brighter than the sun itself is what it means to have a dream.
“joonmyun-ah,” whispers his brother, as they both huddle underneath the same blanket, too giddy to fall asleep, “this is everything you've ever wanted. you're going to be a star.”
fifteen-year-olds know nothing of hardship and the sweat, as well as the blood and tears, that accompany it. fifteen-year-olds only see the glitz and the glamour that reward them in the end; the cheering and screaming that resound in their ears as they squint against the neon lights that illuminate the tokyo dome, madison square garden and staples center. fifteen-year-olds only see the silver lining.
but twenty-year-olds know better.
he dances until his throat stings and dances until his legs throb, as days become weeks, weeks become months and months become (six long, grueling, what the hell am i here for) years, and joonmyun finds himself working toward a finish line that still isn't quite there. even after the four seasons have passed many times over, even after watching his juniors belt out their debut song and beam at cameras on national television, even after the realization that his hands are closing around thin air instead of the actual prize settles slowly in the pit of his stomach.
“you're going to debut next year, joonmyun-ssi, as one of exo's leaders. specifically, the leader of exo-k.”
he nods and smiles and mouths a quick yet grateful thank you so much i won't disappoint you i'll be the best that i can be but when he finds himself alone in the deserted hallway five minutes later, joonmyun isn't certain if he's enough.
he's glancing at a piece of paper in his hands, not even sure if he's reading the right words. he can make out byun baekhyun and kim jongdae, tied together somewhere with main vocalist, and joonmyun abruptly feels very, very jaded. he doubts that it's selfish to feel this way, to feel envy tinted with the slightest bit of malice, because he did not forget his childhood friends' names and reject phone calls from his mother just to have the opportunity that he craved so badly served on a silver platter to anyone else.
but then he sees that they've filtered jongdae - chen, apparently, is what he'll be called - into exo-m, and a shameful relief fills him, because someone is getting the short end of the stick and for once, for once, that someone isn't him.
he doesn't feel any less guilty, though, when his bleary eyes are fixated on his laptop screen at 3 am (sehun restlessly sleeps in the bed next to him; he tosses and turns every few seconds due to an aching neck that he shields from everyone else because i'm not relevant enough to feel pain from working too hard) and he's watching the newest exo-m interview. specifically, he is watching the befuddlement that jongdae and minseok try so, so hard to hide.
the amount of remorse that joonmyun feels upon hearing jongdae's next words is something that remains engraved at the back of his mind; further reminding him just exactly how unworthy he is.
“it doesn't matter what language it's in. it's still music.”
“it's okay, kyungsoo-ah. you’re tired; we all are. everyone makes mistakes. even our seniors have their moments.” his mellow voice does nothing to soothe the agitated young man. if possible, kyungsoo’s anxiety augments. “you're exhausted,” joonmyun continues to insist. “nobody can blame you. you bounced right back up even after your voice cracked. that takes a lot of guts!”
a tense silence envelopes the six of them. even chanyeol has lost his eternally vibrant demeanor. the weight of expectations is starting to be felt.
“you don't understand, hyung.” kyungsoo's murmur is barely audible but everyone hears it. “you don't.” the leader swallows (you don't understand, hyung, because you're nowhere near half as good so your can't fail because you don't even have the talent to try) and inhales and repeats the process once more.
pacifying his boys is becoming harder. making up excuses whenever one of them misbehaves is becoming harder. getting more than four hours of sleep is becoming harder. watching the manager slap more plasters onto jongin's back is also becoming a lot harder. but this is what joonmyun signed up for, this is what he put his heart on his sleeve for, and this is what exo is being groomed for.
“of course i don't. i was just trying to make you feel better.” nobody notices when joonmyun's smile doesn't reach his eyes, because comforting them is his job and so what if he gets trodden on in the process? so what?
every child is born with a dream, albeit it being fickle and petty at times, and now joonmyun knows (is not quite sure, but is forcing himself to believe) that allowing himself to get swallowed up into a bottomless pit in lieu of letting five other boys shine brighter than the sun itself is what it means to have a dream.