i lost my brain so no title for this (titled by livi <3)
“did you watch the interview with han geng-ge?”
kyuhyun doesn’t look up from his laptop. “no i didn’t,” he shifts the headphones a little and reaches out beside him to take a swig from the bottle of soju “did you?” he asks between sips.
“ no” henry toys around with the cufflinks on his jacket and hooks his feet around the chair legs “should i?” henry collapses down, his chin hitting the table with a loud thud. kyuhyun glances up at henry, and puts his hand out on the younger boys head, petting him softly, waiting for the tumble of tears that will eventually follow.
“i wish it was some elaborate hoax by sm. y'know, for media attention. and with the 4th super junior album, he’ll be back.” henry barely can hold himself together. he feels kyuhyun’s fingers run through his hair and he lets out a shuddering sigh, “i miss him.”
“i miss him too.” a faint voice calls out, wandering into the kitchen. it's zhou mi, and his eyes are swollen, red rimmed, brimming tears.
“did you watch the interview with han geng-ge?” henry calls out, chin still against the table, hair still against kyuhyun’s hand.
zhou mi shakes his head, a solemn no. “i couldn’t bring myself to watch it.” his chest starts heaving as he sits down on the empty seat next to kyuhyun and puts his face into his hands. he knows it's not polite to put elbows up on the dining table, but this is an exception. “i opened up the site and the video starting loading, but i didn’t make it to 61% before i was fumbling around blindly through tears looking for a way to close the video.”
“what video?” the soft footsteps echoing, shoes squeaking against the tiling.
“did you watch the interview with han geng-ge?” henry drums his fingers against the table.
“oh.” donghae crinkled his nose. “no. the internet won’t let me load the video and i got tired of waiting.” his sleeves hang loosely around his fingers, they’re too long, but donghae doesn’t mind. “i'm tired of waiting.” he sighs and opens the fridge, then closes it, then opening it again.
open, close. open, close.
close.
close.
close.
“i'm tired of waiting too.” henry breathes onto the table, the glass top misting up around the bleak reflection of his face.
“we’re all tired of waiting.” no one saw ryeowook come in. but he’s standing behind henry, moving to his side a little, his hand on the young boy’s back, consoling him with touch.
“did you watch the interview with han geng-ge?”
henry feels a little cold when he feels ryeowook flinch from his back, “no.” and ryeowook moves to the kitchen sink. bowls, crusted with old food sit piled up. there are untouched meals in the trash, a broken plate or two, and a mass of white, stained with guilty, grief, anger; scrunched up wads of tissue.
“have you eaten?” ryeowook turns around and looks to the table, the four boys sitting, slumping in their seats, their eyes sunken, their heart sunken.
“i don’t think any of us are hungry.” siwon trudges in from his room, still decked in his tracksuit, pants riding low around his hips. he walks past ryeowook, his hand sweeping across ryeowook’s back in a half, almost-half embrace.
“did you watch the interview with han geng-ge?” henry’s face falls at siwon’s hesitation.
“no, i didn’t really think i’d have any time to sit down and watch it properly.” he folds his arms against himself and clears his throat, “so i just didn’t in the end”. he clears his throat again, pressing his hand to the ridge of his nose as he does it once again before he sits down.
henry’s eyes instinctively take a fleeting glimpse at han geng’s empty seat. he blinks, once, twice and turns his face away, letting his head fall to the side. with the cheek against the glass he closes his eyes, his chin is red, perhaps not as red as his eyes
“i watched it.” but with his eyes closed, the cool glass warming a little against his skin henry doesn’t know who spoke. the voice was soft, and it echoed all around.
“i know.” henry whispers, “we all did.”
honey, what happened to you?
i fell down.
why?
i thought you would catch me.