[Super Junior: fic] Stages of Grief
Title: Stages of Grief
Author: relinquished972
Fandom: Super Junior
Genre: bandfic, angst
Characters/Pairings: Heechul-centric, ninja!HanChul (more friendship than anything)
Summary: Heechul realises he's not the only one who's hurting.
Notes:
Well, I'm relatively new to the fandom. I got into SuJu because of Heechul (it's a funny story, but I won't bore you guys here), I LOVE his concept in "U" (long hair is so sexy) and probably got into HanChul because of YouTube. This isn't my first RPS fic (I've done loads for Tenimyu, some for SHINee and stuff like that), but it IS my first SuJu fic, so please tell me if I haven't got their personalities down!
Inspired by this video, this song and various accounts of Heechul's stint in depression. I think he still is.
Stages of Grief
by relinquished972
He hated this room.
It was too white. Too plain. Unfurnished. Sterile. The leather chair he was reclining on smelled. The fan hanging from the ceiling kept spinning and he couldn’t follow its movements. Even the lighting hurt his eyes.
He hated it here.
He ignored the movements coming from the desk beside him, though he was well aware of what the other person was doing. He kept his eyes trained on the fan, trying to count how many rotations it was doing in a minute.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
“Heechul-sshi.”
Thirteen.
Thirteen.
Thirteen.
What came after thirteen again?
“Heechul-sshi, what are you doing?”
He blinked, previous train of thought interrupted. The other person in the room had taken a seat next to his and he could hear the familiar clicking of the pen and a tap against the clipboard. The question was repeated.
“What comes after thirteen?” he asked.
“Fourteen, Heechul-sshi.” The voice was patient, polite, professional.
Fake.
“Oh.” He paused. “I knew that.”
He went back to counting the number of rotations, knowing full well that the other person was trying to get his attention. He didn’t feel like answering questions today. It was always the same anyway.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
“Heechul-sshi. Have you been eating and sleeping regularly?”
He didn’t answer. The other person sighed softly and he could hear the pen scratching against the paper. His file. He could see the red light if the recording device blinking from where it lay on the coffee table. After a few moments, the voice spoke again.
“Have you been doing exercise, Heechul-sshi, like we discussed?”
“I don’t like sweating.”
“It doesn’t have to be about working up a sweat, Heechul-sshi. Taking a walk in the park, or walking to the shops can be exercise too.”
“I have everything I need.”
More scratching sounds. He closed his eyes for a second and saw the imprint of the fan on the back of his eyelids. He opened them again. The fan was still spinning. The other person stopped writing and spoke to him again.
“Have you been doing the task we agreed upon last session, Heechul-sshi?”
A long pause.
“Heechul-sshi?”
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
“I don’t have dreams anymore.”
===
Leeteuk closed the door quietly and walked back to the living room, head bowed and shoulders slumped. He sat down on the sofa and covered his face with both hands as Siwon wrapped an arm around him and squeezed reassuringly. Donghae and Eunhyuk each reached over and patted his knee.
“He’s asleep now,” Leeteuk told them, voice muffled by his hands.
“Don’t worry, hyung, we took everything that might be sharp or dangerous out of the room while you guys were gone.” Ryeowook piped up from Siwon’s other wide.
He didn’t want to add, he can’t hurt himself, don’t worry, because it was Heechul. Heechul could get creative when he had to. They could never be sure, not with Heechul. Leeteuk looked up and gave the younger man a strained smile.
“Thank you, Wookie.” He looked around at them all. “Thanks, everyone.”
“He’s our friend too, hyung. Our brother. We have to protect him.” Yesung’s voice held a note of confidence that he did not have.
Sungmin looked over at Kyuhyun, sitting by himself at the dining table. His hands were clenched in front of him tightly, as if he were praying, but his eyes were burning holes through the door leading to Heechul’s bedroom. He didn’t say a word. Shindong came out of the kitchen with a steaming mug and handed it to Leeteuk, sitting down on the single couch where Sungmin was perched.
“How’s he doing, hyung?”
“I wish I could say.” Leeteuk took a grateful sip from the mug. ‘He’s not cooperating. Doesn’t answer any questions, doesn’t tell us anything.”
Siwon frowned and tightened his hold around Leeteuk’s shoulders. No one spoke for a long time. They knew, really, what was wrong. They knew, but they couldn’t do anything about it.
“This really sucks.”
===
For the first few days, he’d seemed fine. He’d eaten and slept as per usual, laughed and joked as always. They didn’t have rehearsals, since they had just finished their promotions, so he had just been going to his weekly radio shows. He made no mention of the incident.
They were relieved, at first, to find him unaffected. He was still their Heenim - strong and dependable and whole. They had been expecting him to be angry or upset. The incident had hit pretty close to heart. It was Kyuhyun, and Leeteuk, who first noticed.
“Argh, I swear I’m going to kill him when he comes home!”
The two of them had looked up to see Heechul storming out of the bathroom looking irritated. He’d been wearing his pyjamas, the Bugs Bunny one he was so fond of, and clutching a hairbrush in his hand.
“Heechul-ah, what happened?” Leeteuk had asked, putting down his book.
“This!” Heechul had replied, brandishing the hairbrush. “He took the wrong brush with him! This is his! I’m not going to use someone else’s hairbrush!”
‘He’ could have only meant one person. Kyuhyun and Leeteuk exchanged startled glances, but Heechul didn’t seem to notice.
“When are they coming home anyway?” he demanded. “I swear, Kyuhyunnie, go call him now and tell him that I want my hairbrush back!”
“Heechul-hyung…” Kyuhyun looked at Leeteuk, lost for words. The leader sighed and faced Heechul.
“Heechul-ah,” he said cautiously, “Hankyung isn’t here anymore.”
“Of course he isn’t here, Leeteuk-hyung, I can see that,” Heechul snapped irritably. “But when he comes back, I’m going to make him pay for taking my stuff…”
“Heechul-hyung.” Kyuhyun interrupted him mid-rant. Heechul blinked at him in shock and disbelieving outrage. “Hankyung-hyung isn’t coming back.”
It didn’t register on Heechul’s face for a long while. He looked back and forth between them, their faces solemn and serious. Then he laughed.
“Good one, guys, I almost believed you!” he crowed. “Of course he’s coming back! He always does. When promotions are finished over there, he’ll be back. Ah I really can’t wait to have his cooking again…”
“Heechul!” Leeteuk said sharply.
Heechul had stopped laughing then. The hand holding the hairbrush had started trembling violently and it looked like he was going to snap it in half. He had stared at them, searching their faces desperately for a sign - any sign - they were joking. They had looked back at him, worry and concern etched all over their faces.
“You’re lying.”
He’d fled from the room as they got to their feet, shouting his name. There was no way. No fucking way. He’d skidded to a halt in front of the bedroom door and wrenched it open, breathing heavily.
The bed was made. The desk was bare. The open wardrobe door showed it was also empty. The books and CDs were gone. Even the posters on the walls had been taken down. He dragged himself to the bed and fell to his knees beside it, hands running over the soft material. There was a faint, lingering scent, achingly familiar but quickly disappearing. He pulled himself up far enough to snatch up the pillow and buried his face in it, inhaling the smell.
That was how the others found him, moments later, when they came to see what the noise was all about.
===
The apartment was quiet.
He shuffled through the living room disinterestedly, towards the kitchen. He’d woken up thirsty. He thought about calling out for Leeteuk, but the words never formed. That was when he remembered that they were meant to be performing this evening.
He opened the fridge door and stared blankly at its contents.
Beer, his mind decided.
He took the can of beer. After a pause, he reached in and took the other five. He closed the door and padded back to his room, feeling lethargic. He opened the first can and drank.
When that was finished, he drank a second.
And a third.
By the time he reached his fourth, he was beginning to feel the fuzziness in his mind. So he drank another. The fuzziness increased as he reached the last one, and he knew he probably should go get more, but he really couldn’t be bothered. It was too far and he was too tired.
It was too quiet.
He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with one arm flung across his forehead. He blinked. The room was dark, save for that sliver of light coming from the window where he had forgotten to draw the curtains. He liked the dark, he decided, because you didn’t have to see things you didn’t want to see.
Why was it so fucking quiet today?
Normally there would be at least one more person doing this with him. They would talk, maybe, but mostly drink. Watch some television.
TV, his mind decided. Watch some TV.
With a groan, he pushed himself up from the bed and trudged to the door. He paused halfway down the corridor, in front of that door and gently laid a hand on the smooth wooden surface. After a long pause, he sighed and turned away.
Beer, his mind told him firmly. Beer. And TV.
He grabbed another six-pack from the fridge and sat down heavily on the couch in front of the television. Opening the first can, he switched on the screen and began to flick through the channels lazily.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…
He crushed the empty can in his fist and opened another one. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t watch this. It wasn’t right. His finger froze over the power button when the dancing started.
This wasn’t right.
This felt wrong.
He crushed the second can and hurled it at the television set. It hit the screen and bounced off, clattering to the floor.
===
“Hyung! Hyung! Come quickly!”
The urgency in Sungmin’s voice brought a surge of energy to the already exhausted members and they sprinted down the corridor to the apartment. They rushed in through the open door and froze in the entry.
The television was on, showing reruns of a variety show. Around it were numerous cans, all crushed, littering the floor around the living room as if they had been thrown. The beanbag cushion was lying near the kitchen door instead of its customary place near the window. The coffee table was overturned.
“Do you think…”
“Heechul!” Leeteuk called, making his way quickly to the bedrooms. “Heechul!”
They filed in one by one, taking in their surroundings. Kyuhyun went straight for the kitchen, kicking aside the beanbag and Donghae followed him. Ryeowook, Eunhyuk, Sungmin and Shindong made a beeline for the mess in the living room, already beginning to tidy up. Siwon and Yesung rushed to follow Leeteuk.
“Five…six…seven…” Ryeowook looked up from where he was picking up the cans. “Hyung, he’s had at least seven beers.”
“Make that thirteen,” Yesung said grimly, coming out of Heechul’s room. He jerked his head back towards the now-open door. “There’s more in there.”
They went over to Heechul’s room and gasped. The sheets had been ripped from the bed, some of the material torn, and there were CDs and books scattered everywhere. The laptop was on the floor, seemingly in one piece, and the lamp - which was broken - lay beside it, half under the bed. More cans lay scattered haphazardly around the room, all of them empty.
There was no sign of Heechul.
Kyuhyun and Donghae came running, the latter in a state of panic.
“There’s a knife and a pair of scissors missing from the kitchen!”
“Where’s Heechul-hyung?!”
“Teukie-hyung! Siwon-hyung!”
They tumbled back into the corridor and proceeded to check every bedroom in the apartment until Leeteuk came out of the last one, face drawn.
“He’s in here, guys.”
Hankyung’s room.
===
They had found him slumped in the middle of the now-vacant room, surrounded by broken glass from the mirror and shreds of the pillow. The missing knife was on the floor by his feet and the scissors were lying on the bed, the mattress slashed open violently. There were no evident traces of blood anywhere.
His head was cradled against Siwon’s shoulder, eyes wide and unseeing, his lips moving continuously in a silent mantra. Siwon was crying, tears trickling onto Heechul’s hair.
“Hyung, hyung,” he sobbed, running his hand over Heechul’s cheeks to smooth back his hair. “Hyung, can you hear me?”
“…we’re friends, aren’t we?” Heechul murmured, not seeming to have heard Siwon. “…I could’ve help him…I could’ve helped him…”
“Hyung…” Siwon moaned, burying his face in Heechul’s hair, sobbing even harder than before. “Stop it, hyung…it’s not your fault…”
“Siwonnie?”
Heechul’s voice, more alert than before, brought Siwon’s tears up short. He pulled back slightly and hastily wiped his cheeks, looking down at Heechul.
“Heechul-hyung…?” he said, hopefulness tingeing his voice. Heechul stared up at him, blinking in confusion at his tears, reaching up a hand to brush them away.
“Siwonnie, don’t cry…there’s nothing to cry about, you idiot…”
Siwon chuckled through his tears and nodded. He helped Heechul get to his feet and it seemed as though he was feeling better, when Heechul jerked away from his grasp and fell on something in the corner of the room. A chorus of surprised shouts reverberated around the room.
“Hyung!”
“Heechul!”
“Heechul-hyung!”
They all watched him scramble around on the floor, completely ignoring the fact that he was sweeping shards of glass with his bare hands, looking for something. It was Eunhyuk, surprisingly, who went over and got down on his knees next to Heechul.
“What are you looking for hyung?” he asked, helping him sift through the debris.
“The mask…” Heechul mumbled, hands digging blindly. “The mask…I know I threw it here somewhere…”
“The mask?” Heechul nodded, not looking up from his search.
“The mask…from our debut…it was left here…”
A low, despairing moan escaped Siwon, who stifled it with a fist pressed tightly to his clenched lips. Leeteuk wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, but his eyes were brimming over as well. Heechul paid them no mind, still searching, barely registering the sting of the glass.
Eunhyuk looked at him carefully for a moment.
“I’ll help you look for it,” he said finally.
===
Kyuhyun was furious. It didn’t take a genius to work that much out.
Sungmin wasn’t sure whether he agreed with what they were doing, especially since Leeteuk didn’t know they were doing it, but he agreed with Kyuhyun that something had to be done. That was why they were alone in the other apartment while the others were taking turns to keep Heechul company in his.
And why Kyuhyun was gripping the phone so tightly in his hand, Sungmin was actually afraid he might crush it.
“Are you sure it’s the right number, Kyu?”
The youngest member frowned, but nodded all the same. He’d been given this number in trust, to call when there was an emergency or some important news. It was like the owner of the number knew that Kyuhyun would be the only one willing to call.
After another moment, he cursed and hung up.
“It’s not connecting,” he growled. “‘I’ll always pick up’ my ass.”
“Kyu…if Leeteuk-hyung finds out we’re doing this, he’ll be very upset.”
“Then let him be!” Kyuhyun gestured around the living room. “All this is his fault anyway, so he should at least know the consequences of what he’s done!”
In the silence that followed, they both seemed to hear the desperate, despairing cries from the night before.
Why didn’t he say anything?
Why didn’t he trust me?
Why did he leave?
===
He was back in this hated room.
It was still too white. Too plain. Unfurnished. Sterile. The leather chair he was reclining on still smelled. The fan hanging from the ceiling kept spinning and he still couldn’t follow its movements. The lighting still hurt his eyes.
He hated it here.
“I heard from your colleagues that you had a bit of an episode the other day.” That same polite, professional, fake voice. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
The fan was still spinning.
“Heechul-sshi?” The voice persisted, this time. “Why did you destroy your belongings?”
He blinked and stared blankly at the ceiling.
“I was angry,” he responded finally.
The voice sounded pleased - pleased that they finally were getting somewhere - when it asked the next question.
“Why were you angry?”
“I don’t know.” He frowned. “I just was.”
“What were you doing before you got angry?”
“Watching television. Drinking.”
He could almost hear the eyebrow being raised at his answer. The familiar scratching of the pen could be heard as his answers were recorded on that stupid file. His file. And the fan didn’t stop spinning.
“What were you watching?”
“I don’t know. Some music show.”
The voice sighed and the sound of a chair creaking could be heard.
“Heechul-sshi, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me the truth. Please cooperate so we can all help you.”
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
“I never asked for help.”
===
He barely heard the manager when he told them that all of Heechul’s scheduled appearances would be cancelled for the next few months. Normally, he would’ve fought back, proved that he was capable of working, but he couldn’t now. Not now. Just the thought of all that smiling, acting and laughing tired him out.
Instead he stayed in his room, alternating between surfing the internet or playing with his cats. He took his meals alone, very often not even eating at all, but he knew better than to tell the others that. They had their own individual projects and schedules and there was no time for him.
They had baby-proofed the house as well. Each kitchen drawer was now locked and the fridge was secured shut. Which was stupid, because Heechul was not an infant and he was very capable of opening those plastic contraptions. It was Donghae’s idea that they did it, especially after the knife-and-scissors incident.
He also drank a lot more. They hadn’t taken away the alcohol stash, which was very stupid in his opinion, because he liked to drink when he was angry and upset. It was something he always did, even Hankyung…
He froze, hand hovering over the bottle of soju.
“Heechul-hyung?”
It was Eunhyuk. He had just entered the apartment, even though he didn’t live there and was now in at the kitchen door, watching him carefully.
“Hyung?” he repeated concernedly. “Are you okay?”
Heechul grit his teeth and grabbed the bottle, cursing himself internally for being such a wimp. He looked at Eunhyuk and waved the bottle, a half-hearted smirk on his face.
“Wanna share this?”
“Uh…sure, hyung, if that’s what you want.”
Eunhyuk followed him to the living room with two plastic cups. Heechul made a disgusted noise at the sight of them.
“Plastic cups. That’s not how soju is meant to be drunk.”
“Well, hyung, if you didn’t insist on destroying everything breakable in the house, we wouldn’t have to use them,” Eunhyuk replied glibly.
“That’s true, I suppose,” Heechul agreed.
They drank in silence. Every so often, Eunhyuk would glance over at him as if to make sure he wasn’t going to throw a drunken tantrum again. Sometimes he looked as though he wanted to say something, but then decided against it and went back to drinking again. It was awkward, sure, but not as awkward as it used to be, back when they were still upset over petty things like shirts, food and the way Heechul held his microphone.
They’d finished their second bottle before Eunhyuk spoke up.
“Hyung, there’s going to be a rehearsal tomorrow morning, for our new album…” he hesitated when Heechul didn’t acknowledge him. “…did you…do you want to come?”
Heechul knocked back the rest of the contents of the cup and sighed. Eunhyuk was still looking at him hopefully, holding his breath in anticipation of his answer. It had been a while since he went to the practice room, to the dance studio and to the recording room…
“I - I’ll think about it,” he said evasively, pouring himself some more soju.
“It’s okay, hyung, no pressure,” Eunhyuk told him enthusiastically, happy that Heechul was even considering his invitation. “We’ve saved a spot for you and we’ll help you catch up with practices as soon as you feel ready…”
The words were so reminiscent of yet another unhappy time, it brought an unbearable ache to his chest. He felt tears burning in his eyes and his throat constricted painfully. It was probably the soju that did it, but he suddenly found he could not stop the tears. Sobs were being wrenched from his body, racking his whole frame as he curled up on the couch and broke down.
Recovering from his surprise quickly, Eunhyuk reached over and pulled Heechul into a tight embrace. He held him patiently as Heechul gasped and sobbed, uncaring of his image or his appearance right at that point. As far as any of them knew, this was the first time he’d cried in the last three months and Eunhyuk wasn’t about to interrupt until he got it out of his system.
Eventually the crying gave way to sniffling and stifled hiccups as Heechul cradled the almost-empty tissue box in his lap. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes, glancing over at Eunhyuk, who was suddenly grinning.
“What?” he demanded thickly, reaching for another tissue.
“Nothing much, hyung,” Eunhyuk replied. “Just that you’re not looking very milky-white skinned right now.”
“Shut up.”
He got up and went to the bathroom to wash his face. When he returned, Eunhyuk had cleared up the tissues and thrown out the soju bottles and he heard clinking of glass in the kitchen. Curious, Heechul made his way there too, only to find the younger member fussing over the stove.
“Eunhyuk?”
“Hyung!” Eunhyuk waved his hand over the kettle on the stove. “I was just making some tea. I heard it’s a good way to relax, so I bought some on the way home!”
The sentiment brought a warm feeling that seeped through Heechul’s whole body. He pinched the bridge of his nose, between his eyes, to stop the threat of new tears forming and he breathed in deeply. Eunhyuk continued to chatter while he was making tea, complaining about how expensive good tealeaves were and no wonder Korea didn’t really have a tea culture.
“Eunhyuk…”
“Hmm…yes hyung?”
“I…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say. He took another deep breath and tried again. “I…will you help catch me up at rehearsal tomorrow?”
The smile on Eunhyuk’s face brightened even more, if that was possible.
“Of course, hyung!”
He knew, of course, that this was as close to a ‘thank you’ as he was going to get from Kim Heechul.
===
It wasn’t so bad anymore, this room.
It was still too white. Too plain. Unfurnished. Sterile. The leather chair he was reclining on still smelled. The fan hanging from the ceiling kept spinning and he still couldn’t follow its movements. The lighting still hurt his eyes.
But it really wasn’t so bad. It was actually kind of soothing.
“Heechul-sshi, you’re looking much better today.”
“I’m feeling much better,” he answered.
The doctor looked surprised for a moment, but then he smiled gently.
“That’s very good.” He wrote something on the clipboard. “Are you ready to talk about what’s been bothering you these past few months?”
And so Heechul told him. He told him about the Chinese boy he’d met as a trainee, how they had moved in together and how he was the only person who had understood his broken Korean. He told him about how this Chinese boy had been an exceptional dancer, martial artist and quite a commendable chef. He told him about the boy’s visa issue and how, sick and tired of his tears, Heechul had thrown caution in the wind and pushed him into the limelight.
“Because he belongs there,” Heechul explained. “Because he deserves it, more than any of us.”
“And this boy…where is he now?”
Heechul closed his eyes briefly, stomping furiously on the tears bubbling up in his chest. The doctor didn’t speak, waiting patiently for him.
“He went back to China,” Heechul said finally.
“How did you feel about that?”
“I didn’t believe it at first,” he admitted. “I thought he was just going for promotions for his subgroup, because he does that quite a lot. He’s very famous in China. But when it finally hit, I was angry. I thought he’d abandoned me - abandoned us. I destroyed everything I could get my hands on.”
“And what’s different now?”
“After I got angry, I kept trying to figure out why he would leave. I spent every day making up excuses for him, searching for news of him online and keeping track of all his interviews. It wasn’t until one of our other members, Eunhyuk, reminded me that I was neglecting everyone else that I realized I wasn’t the only one who was hurting.”
He paused and declined the tissue that was offered to him.
“We’d lost him, but we’d also lost Kangin and Kibum. I’d forgotten. Maybe it was because we knew they would be leaving, we had warning. With him, we didn’t. It was like one day he was here and the next day we were being told that he was filing a lawsuit against the company. We didn’t have any idea was what going on. I guess the shock of that overrode the others.”
The doctor listened to him quietly. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, he spoke again.
“What is his name?”
Heechul sucked his breath in quickly and released it, unclenching the hands he had unknowingly balled into fists. He’d never said it out loud. Wrote it, typed in, thought it, certainly, but he’d been afraid that the sound of it in the air would disappear just like the person.
“Hanky - his name is Han Geng.”
The fan whirred away in the background.
===
EPILOGUE
“Hyung, you’re not eating.”
Heechul looked up from his plate, chopsticks idly pushing the rice around. Ryeowook was watching him closely from across the table, his own bowl already more than half empty on the table before him. They were eating alone today, because they were the only ones home.
“I’m not feeling very well, Wookie,” Heechul told him tiredly. “I don’t feel like eating.”
“That’s not good, hyung. When you’re sick, you should eat more! Here…” Heechul’s eyes widened in surprise when his mouth was suddenly occupied by a large amount of kimchi. “You need energy to heal, so you must eat more to get better quickly!”
And so Ryeowook shoveled the rest of the meal down Heechul’s throat cheerfully while Heechul let him. He had to admit that it did feel better to have a full stomach. He smiled at the younger member.
“Thanks, Wookie.”
Ryeowook beamed.
“It’s fine, hyung! As a wise person once said, ‘even if you’re feeling down, you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten!’”
“Who said that?” Heechul laughed. He stopped when he noticed Ryeowook staring. “What’s wrong?”
“Hyung…you’re laughing,” he breathed. A huge smile spread over his face.
Heechul turned away, slightly embarrassed.
“It’s only a laugh,” he muttered, helping himself to more rice. “No big deal.”
But Ryeowook remained adamantly cheerful for the rest of the time and Heechul had to admit that it was nice to laugh for a change.
When the others came home from various schedules, he greeted them with a sheepish little grin and they return the greeting with tenfold the enthusiasm, piling on top of him on the couch. He cried out in surprise at the sudden attack, but bore it like a man, laughing breathlessly as all nine of them ended up sprawled over the floor.
“You bastards…” he gasped, propping himself up on his elbows to look around at them all. “…what the fuck was that for?”
They grinned back up at him.
“We love you too, Heenim.”
Author: relinquished972
Fandom: Super Junior
Genre: bandfic, angst
Characters/Pairings: Heechul-centric, ninja!HanChul (more friendship than anything)
Summary: Heechul realises he's not the only one who's hurting.
Notes:
Well, I'm relatively new to the fandom. I got into SuJu because of Heechul (it's a funny story, but I won't bore you guys here), I LOVE his concept in "U" (long hair is so sexy) and probably got into HanChul because of YouTube. This isn't my first RPS fic (I've done loads for Tenimyu, some for SHINee and stuff like that), but it IS my first SuJu fic, so please tell me if I haven't got their personalities down!
Inspired by this video, this song and various accounts of Heechul's stint in depression. I think he still is.
Stages of Grief
by relinquished972
He hated this room.
It was too white. Too plain. Unfurnished. Sterile. The leather chair he was reclining on smelled. The fan hanging from the ceiling kept spinning and he couldn’t follow its movements. Even the lighting hurt his eyes.
He hated it here.
He ignored the movements coming from the desk beside him, though he was well aware of what the other person was doing. He kept his eyes trained on the fan, trying to count how many rotations it was doing in a minute.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
“Heechul-sshi.”
Thirteen.
Thirteen.
Thirteen.
What came after thirteen again?
“Heechul-sshi, what are you doing?”
He blinked, previous train of thought interrupted. The other person in the room had taken a seat next to his and he could hear the familiar clicking of the pen and a tap against the clipboard. The question was repeated.
“What comes after thirteen?” he asked.
“Fourteen, Heechul-sshi.” The voice was patient, polite, professional.
Fake.
“Oh.” He paused. “I knew that.”
He went back to counting the number of rotations, knowing full well that the other person was trying to get his attention. He didn’t feel like answering questions today. It was always the same anyway.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
“Heechul-sshi. Have you been eating and sleeping regularly?”
He didn’t answer. The other person sighed softly and he could hear the pen scratching against the paper. His file. He could see the red light if the recording device blinking from where it lay on the coffee table. After a few moments, the voice spoke again.
“Have you been doing exercise, Heechul-sshi, like we discussed?”
“I don’t like sweating.”
“It doesn’t have to be about working up a sweat, Heechul-sshi. Taking a walk in the park, or walking to the shops can be exercise too.”
“I have everything I need.”
More scratching sounds. He closed his eyes for a second and saw the imprint of the fan on the back of his eyelids. He opened them again. The fan was still spinning. The other person stopped writing and spoke to him again.
“Have you been doing the task we agreed upon last session, Heechul-sshi?”
A long pause.
“Heechul-sshi?”
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
“I don’t have dreams anymore.”
===
Leeteuk closed the door quietly and walked back to the living room, head bowed and shoulders slumped. He sat down on the sofa and covered his face with both hands as Siwon wrapped an arm around him and squeezed reassuringly. Donghae and Eunhyuk each reached over and patted his knee.
“He’s asleep now,” Leeteuk told them, voice muffled by his hands.
“Don’t worry, hyung, we took everything that might be sharp or dangerous out of the room while you guys were gone.” Ryeowook piped up from Siwon’s other wide.
He didn’t want to add, he can’t hurt himself, don’t worry, because it was Heechul. Heechul could get creative when he had to. They could never be sure, not with Heechul. Leeteuk looked up and gave the younger man a strained smile.
“Thank you, Wookie.” He looked around at them all. “Thanks, everyone.”
“He’s our friend too, hyung. Our brother. We have to protect him.” Yesung’s voice held a note of confidence that he did not have.
Sungmin looked over at Kyuhyun, sitting by himself at the dining table. His hands were clenched in front of him tightly, as if he were praying, but his eyes were burning holes through the door leading to Heechul’s bedroom. He didn’t say a word. Shindong came out of the kitchen with a steaming mug and handed it to Leeteuk, sitting down on the single couch where Sungmin was perched.
“How’s he doing, hyung?”
“I wish I could say.” Leeteuk took a grateful sip from the mug. ‘He’s not cooperating. Doesn’t answer any questions, doesn’t tell us anything.”
Siwon frowned and tightened his hold around Leeteuk’s shoulders. No one spoke for a long time. They knew, really, what was wrong. They knew, but they couldn’t do anything about it.
“This really sucks.”
===
For the first few days, he’d seemed fine. He’d eaten and slept as per usual, laughed and joked as always. They didn’t have rehearsals, since they had just finished their promotions, so he had just been going to his weekly radio shows. He made no mention of the incident.
They were relieved, at first, to find him unaffected. He was still their Heenim - strong and dependable and whole. They had been expecting him to be angry or upset. The incident had hit pretty close to heart. It was Kyuhyun, and Leeteuk, who first noticed.
“Argh, I swear I’m going to kill him when he comes home!”
The two of them had looked up to see Heechul storming out of the bathroom looking irritated. He’d been wearing his pyjamas, the Bugs Bunny one he was so fond of, and clutching a hairbrush in his hand.
“Heechul-ah, what happened?” Leeteuk had asked, putting down his book.
“This!” Heechul had replied, brandishing the hairbrush. “He took the wrong brush with him! This is his! I’m not going to use someone else’s hairbrush!”
‘He’ could have only meant one person. Kyuhyun and Leeteuk exchanged startled glances, but Heechul didn’t seem to notice.
“When are they coming home anyway?” he demanded. “I swear, Kyuhyunnie, go call him now and tell him that I want my hairbrush back!”
“Heechul-hyung…” Kyuhyun looked at Leeteuk, lost for words. The leader sighed and faced Heechul.
“Heechul-ah,” he said cautiously, “Hankyung isn’t here anymore.”
“Of course he isn’t here, Leeteuk-hyung, I can see that,” Heechul snapped irritably. “But when he comes back, I’m going to make him pay for taking my stuff…”
“Heechul-hyung.” Kyuhyun interrupted him mid-rant. Heechul blinked at him in shock and disbelieving outrage. “Hankyung-hyung isn’t coming back.”
It didn’t register on Heechul’s face for a long while. He looked back and forth between them, their faces solemn and serious. Then he laughed.
“Good one, guys, I almost believed you!” he crowed. “Of course he’s coming back! He always does. When promotions are finished over there, he’ll be back. Ah I really can’t wait to have his cooking again…”
“Heechul!” Leeteuk said sharply.
Heechul had stopped laughing then. The hand holding the hairbrush had started trembling violently and it looked like he was going to snap it in half. He had stared at them, searching their faces desperately for a sign - any sign - they were joking. They had looked back at him, worry and concern etched all over their faces.
“You’re lying.”
He’d fled from the room as they got to their feet, shouting his name. There was no way. No fucking way. He’d skidded to a halt in front of the bedroom door and wrenched it open, breathing heavily.
The bed was made. The desk was bare. The open wardrobe door showed it was also empty. The books and CDs were gone. Even the posters on the walls had been taken down. He dragged himself to the bed and fell to his knees beside it, hands running over the soft material. There was a faint, lingering scent, achingly familiar but quickly disappearing. He pulled himself up far enough to snatch up the pillow and buried his face in it, inhaling the smell.
That was how the others found him, moments later, when they came to see what the noise was all about.
===
The apartment was quiet.
He shuffled through the living room disinterestedly, towards the kitchen. He’d woken up thirsty. He thought about calling out for Leeteuk, but the words never formed. That was when he remembered that they were meant to be performing this evening.
He opened the fridge door and stared blankly at its contents.
Beer, his mind decided.
He took the can of beer. After a pause, he reached in and took the other five. He closed the door and padded back to his room, feeling lethargic. He opened the first can and drank.
When that was finished, he drank a second.
And a third.
By the time he reached his fourth, he was beginning to feel the fuzziness in his mind. So he drank another. The fuzziness increased as he reached the last one, and he knew he probably should go get more, but he really couldn’t be bothered. It was too far and he was too tired.
It was too quiet.
He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with one arm flung across his forehead. He blinked. The room was dark, save for that sliver of light coming from the window where he had forgotten to draw the curtains. He liked the dark, he decided, because you didn’t have to see things you didn’t want to see.
Why was it so fucking quiet today?
Normally there would be at least one more person doing this with him. They would talk, maybe, but mostly drink. Watch some television.
TV, his mind decided. Watch some TV.
With a groan, he pushed himself up from the bed and trudged to the door. He paused halfway down the corridor, in front of that door and gently laid a hand on the smooth wooden surface. After a long pause, he sighed and turned away.
Beer, his mind told him firmly. Beer. And TV.
He grabbed another six-pack from the fridge and sat down heavily on the couch in front of the television. Opening the first can, he switched on the screen and began to flick through the channels lazily.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…
He crushed the empty can in his fist and opened another one. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t watch this. It wasn’t right. His finger froze over the power button when the dancing started.
This wasn’t right.
This felt wrong.
He crushed the second can and hurled it at the television set. It hit the screen and bounced off, clattering to the floor.
===
“Hyung! Hyung! Come quickly!”
The urgency in Sungmin’s voice brought a surge of energy to the already exhausted members and they sprinted down the corridor to the apartment. They rushed in through the open door and froze in the entry.
The television was on, showing reruns of a variety show. Around it were numerous cans, all crushed, littering the floor around the living room as if they had been thrown. The beanbag cushion was lying near the kitchen door instead of its customary place near the window. The coffee table was overturned.
“Do you think…”
“Heechul!” Leeteuk called, making his way quickly to the bedrooms. “Heechul!”
They filed in one by one, taking in their surroundings. Kyuhyun went straight for the kitchen, kicking aside the beanbag and Donghae followed him. Ryeowook, Eunhyuk, Sungmin and Shindong made a beeline for the mess in the living room, already beginning to tidy up. Siwon and Yesung rushed to follow Leeteuk.
“Five…six…seven…” Ryeowook looked up from where he was picking up the cans. “Hyung, he’s had at least seven beers.”
“Make that thirteen,” Yesung said grimly, coming out of Heechul’s room. He jerked his head back towards the now-open door. “There’s more in there.”
They went over to Heechul’s room and gasped. The sheets had been ripped from the bed, some of the material torn, and there were CDs and books scattered everywhere. The laptop was on the floor, seemingly in one piece, and the lamp - which was broken - lay beside it, half under the bed. More cans lay scattered haphazardly around the room, all of them empty.
There was no sign of Heechul.
Kyuhyun and Donghae came running, the latter in a state of panic.
“There’s a knife and a pair of scissors missing from the kitchen!”
“Where’s Heechul-hyung?!”
“Teukie-hyung! Siwon-hyung!”
They tumbled back into the corridor and proceeded to check every bedroom in the apartment until Leeteuk came out of the last one, face drawn.
“He’s in here, guys.”
Hankyung’s room.
===
They had found him slumped in the middle of the now-vacant room, surrounded by broken glass from the mirror and shreds of the pillow. The missing knife was on the floor by his feet and the scissors were lying on the bed, the mattress slashed open violently. There were no evident traces of blood anywhere.
His head was cradled against Siwon’s shoulder, eyes wide and unseeing, his lips moving continuously in a silent mantra. Siwon was crying, tears trickling onto Heechul’s hair.
“Hyung, hyung,” he sobbed, running his hand over Heechul’s cheeks to smooth back his hair. “Hyung, can you hear me?”
“…we’re friends, aren’t we?” Heechul murmured, not seeming to have heard Siwon. “…I could’ve help him…I could’ve helped him…”
“Hyung…” Siwon moaned, burying his face in Heechul’s hair, sobbing even harder than before. “Stop it, hyung…it’s not your fault…”
“Siwonnie?”
Heechul’s voice, more alert than before, brought Siwon’s tears up short. He pulled back slightly and hastily wiped his cheeks, looking down at Heechul.
“Heechul-hyung…?” he said, hopefulness tingeing his voice. Heechul stared up at him, blinking in confusion at his tears, reaching up a hand to brush them away.
“Siwonnie, don’t cry…there’s nothing to cry about, you idiot…”
Siwon chuckled through his tears and nodded. He helped Heechul get to his feet and it seemed as though he was feeling better, when Heechul jerked away from his grasp and fell on something in the corner of the room. A chorus of surprised shouts reverberated around the room.
“Hyung!”
“Heechul!”
“Heechul-hyung!”
They all watched him scramble around on the floor, completely ignoring the fact that he was sweeping shards of glass with his bare hands, looking for something. It was Eunhyuk, surprisingly, who went over and got down on his knees next to Heechul.
“What are you looking for hyung?” he asked, helping him sift through the debris.
“The mask…” Heechul mumbled, hands digging blindly. “The mask…I know I threw it here somewhere…”
“The mask?” Heechul nodded, not looking up from his search.
“The mask…from our debut…it was left here…”
A low, despairing moan escaped Siwon, who stifled it with a fist pressed tightly to his clenched lips. Leeteuk wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly, but his eyes were brimming over as well. Heechul paid them no mind, still searching, barely registering the sting of the glass.
Eunhyuk looked at him carefully for a moment.
“I’ll help you look for it,” he said finally.
===
Kyuhyun was furious. It didn’t take a genius to work that much out.
Sungmin wasn’t sure whether he agreed with what they were doing, especially since Leeteuk didn’t know they were doing it, but he agreed with Kyuhyun that something had to be done. That was why they were alone in the other apartment while the others were taking turns to keep Heechul company in his.
And why Kyuhyun was gripping the phone so tightly in his hand, Sungmin was actually afraid he might crush it.
“Are you sure it’s the right number, Kyu?”
The youngest member frowned, but nodded all the same. He’d been given this number in trust, to call when there was an emergency or some important news. It was like the owner of the number knew that Kyuhyun would be the only one willing to call.
After another moment, he cursed and hung up.
“It’s not connecting,” he growled. “‘I’ll always pick up’ my ass.”
“Kyu…if Leeteuk-hyung finds out we’re doing this, he’ll be very upset.”
“Then let him be!” Kyuhyun gestured around the living room. “All this is his fault anyway, so he should at least know the consequences of what he’s done!”
In the silence that followed, they both seemed to hear the desperate, despairing cries from the night before.
Why didn’t he say anything?
Why didn’t he trust me?
Why did he leave?
===
He was back in this hated room.
It was still too white. Too plain. Unfurnished. Sterile. The leather chair he was reclining on still smelled. The fan hanging from the ceiling kept spinning and he still couldn’t follow its movements. The lighting still hurt his eyes.
He hated it here.
“I heard from your colleagues that you had a bit of an episode the other day.” That same polite, professional, fake voice. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
The fan was still spinning.
“Heechul-sshi?” The voice persisted, this time. “Why did you destroy your belongings?”
He blinked and stared blankly at the ceiling.
“I was angry,” he responded finally.
The voice sounded pleased - pleased that they finally were getting somewhere - when it asked the next question.
“Why were you angry?”
“I don’t know.” He frowned. “I just was.”
“What were you doing before you got angry?”
“Watching television. Drinking.”
He could almost hear the eyebrow being raised at his answer. The familiar scratching of the pen could be heard as his answers were recorded on that stupid file. His file. And the fan didn’t stop spinning.
“What were you watching?”
“I don’t know. Some music show.”
The voice sighed and the sound of a chair creaking could be heard.
“Heechul-sshi, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me the truth. Please cooperate so we can all help you.”
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
“I never asked for help.”
===
He barely heard the manager when he told them that all of Heechul’s scheduled appearances would be cancelled for the next few months. Normally, he would’ve fought back, proved that he was capable of working, but he couldn’t now. Not now. Just the thought of all that smiling, acting and laughing tired him out.
Instead he stayed in his room, alternating between surfing the internet or playing with his cats. He took his meals alone, very often not even eating at all, but he knew better than to tell the others that. They had their own individual projects and schedules and there was no time for him.
They had baby-proofed the house as well. Each kitchen drawer was now locked and the fridge was secured shut. Which was stupid, because Heechul was not an infant and he was very capable of opening those plastic contraptions. It was Donghae’s idea that they did it, especially after the knife-and-scissors incident.
He also drank a lot more. They hadn’t taken away the alcohol stash, which was very stupid in his opinion, because he liked to drink when he was angry and upset. It was something he always did, even Hankyung…
He froze, hand hovering over the bottle of soju.
“Heechul-hyung?”
It was Eunhyuk. He had just entered the apartment, even though he didn’t live there and was now in at the kitchen door, watching him carefully.
“Hyung?” he repeated concernedly. “Are you okay?”
Heechul grit his teeth and grabbed the bottle, cursing himself internally for being such a wimp. He looked at Eunhyuk and waved the bottle, a half-hearted smirk on his face.
“Wanna share this?”
“Uh…sure, hyung, if that’s what you want.”
Eunhyuk followed him to the living room with two plastic cups. Heechul made a disgusted noise at the sight of them.
“Plastic cups. That’s not how soju is meant to be drunk.”
“Well, hyung, if you didn’t insist on destroying everything breakable in the house, we wouldn’t have to use them,” Eunhyuk replied glibly.
“That’s true, I suppose,” Heechul agreed.
They drank in silence. Every so often, Eunhyuk would glance over at him as if to make sure he wasn’t going to throw a drunken tantrum again. Sometimes he looked as though he wanted to say something, but then decided against it and went back to drinking again. It was awkward, sure, but not as awkward as it used to be, back when they were still upset over petty things like shirts, food and the way Heechul held his microphone.
They’d finished their second bottle before Eunhyuk spoke up.
“Hyung, there’s going to be a rehearsal tomorrow morning, for our new album…” he hesitated when Heechul didn’t acknowledge him. “…did you…do you want to come?”
Heechul knocked back the rest of the contents of the cup and sighed. Eunhyuk was still looking at him hopefully, holding his breath in anticipation of his answer. It had been a while since he went to the practice room, to the dance studio and to the recording room…
“I - I’ll think about it,” he said evasively, pouring himself some more soju.
“It’s okay, hyung, no pressure,” Eunhyuk told him enthusiastically, happy that Heechul was even considering his invitation. “We’ve saved a spot for you and we’ll help you catch up with practices as soon as you feel ready…”
The words were so reminiscent of yet another unhappy time, it brought an unbearable ache to his chest. He felt tears burning in his eyes and his throat constricted painfully. It was probably the soju that did it, but he suddenly found he could not stop the tears. Sobs were being wrenched from his body, racking his whole frame as he curled up on the couch and broke down.
Recovering from his surprise quickly, Eunhyuk reached over and pulled Heechul into a tight embrace. He held him patiently as Heechul gasped and sobbed, uncaring of his image or his appearance right at that point. As far as any of them knew, this was the first time he’d cried in the last three months and Eunhyuk wasn’t about to interrupt until he got it out of his system.
Eventually the crying gave way to sniffling and stifled hiccups as Heechul cradled the almost-empty tissue box in his lap. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes, glancing over at Eunhyuk, who was suddenly grinning.
“What?” he demanded thickly, reaching for another tissue.
“Nothing much, hyung,” Eunhyuk replied. “Just that you’re not looking very milky-white skinned right now.”
“Shut up.”
He got up and went to the bathroom to wash his face. When he returned, Eunhyuk had cleared up the tissues and thrown out the soju bottles and he heard clinking of glass in the kitchen. Curious, Heechul made his way there too, only to find the younger member fussing over the stove.
“Eunhyuk?”
“Hyung!” Eunhyuk waved his hand over the kettle on the stove. “I was just making some tea. I heard it’s a good way to relax, so I bought some on the way home!”
The sentiment brought a warm feeling that seeped through Heechul’s whole body. He pinched the bridge of his nose, between his eyes, to stop the threat of new tears forming and he breathed in deeply. Eunhyuk continued to chatter while he was making tea, complaining about how expensive good tealeaves were and no wonder Korea didn’t really have a tea culture.
“Eunhyuk…”
“Hmm…yes hyung?”
“I…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say. He took another deep breath and tried again. “I…will you help catch me up at rehearsal tomorrow?”
The smile on Eunhyuk’s face brightened even more, if that was possible.
“Of course, hyung!”
He knew, of course, that this was as close to a ‘thank you’ as he was going to get from Kim Heechul.
===
It wasn’t so bad anymore, this room.
It was still too white. Too plain. Unfurnished. Sterile. The leather chair he was reclining on still smelled. The fan hanging from the ceiling kept spinning and he still couldn’t follow its movements. The lighting still hurt his eyes.
But it really wasn’t so bad. It was actually kind of soothing.
“Heechul-sshi, you’re looking much better today.”
“I’m feeling much better,” he answered.
The doctor looked surprised for a moment, but then he smiled gently.
“That’s very good.” He wrote something on the clipboard. “Are you ready to talk about what’s been bothering you these past few months?”
And so Heechul told him. He told him about the Chinese boy he’d met as a trainee, how they had moved in together and how he was the only person who had understood his broken Korean. He told him about how this Chinese boy had been an exceptional dancer, martial artist and quite a commendable chef. He told him about the boy’s visa issue and how, sick and tired of his tears, Heechul had thrown caution in the wind and pushed him into the limelight.
“Because he belongs there,” Heechul explained. “Because he deserves it, more than any of us.”
“And this boy…where is he now?”
Heechul closed his eyes briefly, stomping furiously on the tears bubbling up in his chest. The doctor didn’t speak, waiting patiently for him.
“He went back to China,” Heechul said finally.
“How did you feel about that?”
“I didn’t believe it at first,” he admitted. “I thought he was just going for promotions for his subgroup, because he does that quite a lot. He’s very famous in China. But when it finally hit, I was angry. I thought he’d abandoned me - abandoned us. I destroyed everything I could get my hands on.”
“And what’s different now?”
“After I got angry, I kept trying to figure out why he would leave. I spent every day making up excuses for him, searching for news of him online and keeping track of all his interviews. It wasn’t until one of our other members, Eunhyuk, reminded me that I was neglecting everyone else that I realized I wasn’t the only one who was hurting.”
He paused and declined the tissue that was offered to him.
“We’d lost him, but we’d also lost Kangin and Kibum. I’d forgotten. Maybe it was because we knew they would be leaving, we had warning. With him, we didn’t. It was like one day he was here and the next day we were being told that he was filing a lawsuit against the company. We didn’t have any idea was what going on. I guess the shock of that overrode the others.”
The doctor listened to him quietly. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, he spoke again.
“What is his name?”
Heechul sucked his breath in quickly and released it, unclenching the hands he had unknowingly balled into fists. He’d never said it out loud. Wrote it, typed in, thought it, certainly, but he’d been afraid that the sound of it in the air would disappear just like the person.
“Hanky - his name is Han Geng.”
The fan whirred away in the background.
===
EPILOGUE
“Hyung, you’re not eating.”
Heechul looked up from his plate, chopsticks idly pushing the rice around. Ryeowook was watching him closely from across the table, his own bowl already more than half empty on the table before him. They were eating alone today, because they were the only ones home.
“I’m not feeling very well, Wookie,” Heechul told him tiredly. “I don’t feel like eating.”
“That’s not good, hyung. When you’re sick, you should eat more! Here…” Heechul’s eyes widened in surprise when his mouth was suddenly occupied by a large amount of kimchi. “You need energy to heal, so you must eat more to get better quickly!”
And so Ryeowook shoveled the rest of the meal down Heechul’s throat cheerfully while Heechul let him. He had to admit that it did feel better to have a full stomach. He smiled at the younger member.
“Thanks, Wookie.”
Ryeowook beamed.
“It’s fine, hyung! As a wise person once said, ‘even if you’re feeling down, you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten!’”
“Who said that?” Heechul laughed. He stopped when he noticed Ryeowook staring. “What’s wrong?”
“Hyung…you’re laughing,” he breathed. A huge smile spread over his face.
Heechul turned away, slightly embarrassed.
“It’s only a laugh,” he muttered, helping himself to more rice. “No big deal.”
But Ryeowook remained adamantly cheerful for the rest of the time and Heechul had to admit that it was nice to laugh for a change.
When the others came home from various schedules, he greeted them with a sheepish little grin and they return the greeting with tenfold the enthusiasm, piling on top of him on the couch. He cried out in surprise at the sudden attack, but bore it like a man, laughing breathlessly as all nine of them ended up sprawled over the floor.
“You bastards…” he gasped, propping himself up on his elbows to look around at them all. “…what the fuck was that for?”
They grinned back up at him.
“We love you too, Heenim.”