After the Flood (Eunhyuk/Heechul)

[warmboys]

Pairing: Eunhyuk/Heechul
Word Count: ~3k
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Becoming friends over a series of phone conversations.



After the Flood

“You know what I hate? When you’re sitting in front of your computer, looking at websites, the news, and somehow you notice that you’re feeling like shit. And then you realize you’ve been listening to a soppy instrumental track for the past three minutes.”

Heechul doesn’t normally say these things to him. “Oh really?” Hyukjae brings the phone to the other ear.

“Yeah,” Heechul breathes evenly. “Or when you’re listening to an album on iTunes, right?”

“Right.”

“And there’s only one song you like. But you don’t want to put it on repeat, because you just don’t. I don’t know, I don’t. But then the song ends and I hate the next one. So I go back and replay that one song. And this goes on for hours. I swear.”

“Why don’t you check the ‘Repeat one’ function? C’mon.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want to. It’s a ripoff if I got the album for that one song.”

“But you don’t like the others, right? Wait, what album is this?”

“Actually I downloaded it. Haha. Don’t tell. I don’t want people thinking Kim Heechul is cheap.”

“Hyung, everyone already knows you’re cheap,” Hyukjae says, slipping out of his socks. Bravery is sometimes a consequence of exhaustion.

There’s a pause. Hyukjae bites down on his tongue.

“Damn, you’re right,” Heechul gives in. It sounds like he’s laughing. “Okay, I’m tired now. Thanks for talking to me.”

Hyukjae looks at his phone for a while after that. It blinks the date and time back at him in blue. Then he stretches and spreads himself out over his mattress. Sleep must be God’s greatest invention.

The way a band works is by its members not killing each other. There’s always that one guy you can’t stand, no matter how hard you try to talk to him. And when you’re dealing with twelve other people, the chances of that guy turning into two, or three, are considerably high.

The great bands stay together not out of love but out of courtesy. Well, there’s some love mixed in there. After so many years of living, sweating, breathing together, it’s kind of hard to not confuse a common mission for that elusive trick of a human emotion. “We love Super Junior,” you say, and it’s the abstract you’re talking about, the thing you want to be and maybe even believe you are. You’re talking about millions of girls who cry for you, shared car accidents, and dancing until your legs evaporate. Everything conspires to make you feel like you are a whole, in the plural sense.

And then someone leaves, and that balance is thrown off. How long does it take for ants to rebuild a colony?

Heechul buys them milk. He left for the twenty-four hour GS25 down the block in a giant t-shirt and pajama bottoms, past midnight, and bought milk, not only for his floor but for Hyukjae’s as well. He brings the milk upstairs, and Hyukjae stares at his feet. “Did you go barefoot?” He takes the milk and puts it in the fridge right next to Sungmin’s health yogurt.

“I stepped in a puddle. Who knew it was raining earlier?” There’d been a storm. Hyukjae heard the thunder through his headphones. “Shit, am I leaving footprints?” He looks entirely unapologetic.

“I’ll clean it up later,” Hyukjae says. “Thanks for the milk.”

They’re sitting at the table, Heechul staring at the wooden surface like it’ll talk to him. “I was in the mood to take a walk.”

“How much was it?”

“Don’t tell, but I took Leeteuk’s card.” He looks at Hyukjae with a shadow of a grin. This face is more familiar than the other.

They share a laugh.

Heechul’s threshold for awkward silences is lower than Hyukjae’s, so he leaves shortly after. Sungmin pads out of his room and finds him sitting at the dining table by himself. “Hey.”

“Oh. You’re still up?”

“Practicing guitar.” Sungmin grabs a spoon but stops short before the fridge. “Did we get a stray cat up in here or something?” He’s staring at the dirt tracks on the floor.

“Heechul-hyung,” Hyukjae says. “He got us milk.”

Sungmin pauses, thinking. “Oh. Well. That’s good. Right?”

“I think so,” Hyukjae says. “Right?”

“Probably.”

Sungmin’s got one hand reaching for the yogurt, the other holding the door open. His voice is muffled from inside the fridge. “I think the one we bought last week is going sour. Probably because someone’s been drinking from the carton.”

“Is it clumping?”

“Not yet-oh.” Sungmin thrusts the open carton under Hyukjae’s nose, the sour smell wafting up like an unpleasant cloud.

“Gross.”

Some things are talked about; some things are understood. Relief is in the air, filling the room.

They wake up the next morning to find the new carton opened already. “What? I couldn’t sleep last night,” Yesung says defensively.

“You-you’ve been drinking straight from the carton, haven’t you?” Sungmin points at him with an accusing finger.

“…Maybe. But who bought the new one anyway?”

“Heechul,” Sungmin and Hyukjae say at the same time. Yesung looks from one to the other. He takes another chug from the carton. Kyuhyun stumbles into the room bleary-eyed. “What about Heechul-hyung?”

“Milk,” Yesung says, his mouth full of it.

“He bought it for us,” Sungmin adds.

“With Teukie-hyung’s card,” Hyukjae corrects, but it’s beside the point. Kyuhyun’s trying to figure out whether he should be smiling. “So he’s-“

“Yeah.”

It’s not something you talk about. They’re regrouping.

If Hyukjae had to, he’d compare it to watching an infant take its first steps. There’s a ninety-nine percent chance of falling, but it’s stupid enough to take the risk.

These days Donghae touches him a lot. “It’s like practice. The world is a stage,” he says. He acts like fanservice is a burden for the two of them to bear.

“Maybe I don’t want to be touched. Why don’t you go over to Siwon or something?”

But it’s all just talk, because in a way, this has become their burden. It’s not a burden. A responsibility, more like.

Donghae just touches his knee and smiles. Leers.

“My innocence!” Hyukjae squeaks in perfect falsetto.

They play footsie under the table until Shindong points out there won’t be tables on stage.

“I was showering, and I had the thought: what if someone comes in here and stabs me, right now? I scared myself I almost dropped the soap.”

Hyukjae wonders if he’s supposed to laugh. He settles for a chuckle. “Why?”

“I don’t know! I keep thinking-also, when I’m sleeping. I imagine the girl from the Ring creeping over my bed sheets. Yesterday I wanted to piss but I was afraid to get out of bed.”

“Maybe you need to sleep earlier. Sleep before the sun sets,” Hyukjae suggests helpfully.

“Yeah, like a vampire? You come up with some stupid ideas.” Heechul’s annoyance is palpable even over the phone.

“Sorry.”

There’s a silence, during which Heechul appears to be chewing on something. “I stole some of Shindong’s food. I can’t wear my sandals anymore, after that night.”

“Why don’t you get new ones? Or borrow Leeteuk’s? Do you have the same shoe size?” Why are they talking about shoes?

Heechul appears to be mulling it over. “He might be bigger.”

“Hm.”

“Are you tired?” Heechul asks suddenly. His tone is demanding. “If you’re tired, you can go to sleep. How’s the choreography for the new album going, by the way? Donghae looked like he was going to fall apart today. Donghae.”

Hyukjae doesn’t know which question to address. He’s tired. “I’m fine. We’re working out the kinks. Can’t make it too difficult. . .” He remembers the rod the width of a nickel, lodged in Heechul's leg for a year.

“Make it easy for me. I just want to stand in the back and look good.”

“You do that anyway,” Hyukjae points out. “I mean, I’m glad.”

“Thanks. All right, I’m letting you go. You sound like you’re being held prisoner over the phone. I like to keep my hostages happy.”

I’m glad? Hyukjae falls into bed, heavy as a rock. I’m so stupid.

The big gold chairs on the set of Strong Heart look more comfortable than they feel. Heechul’s talking a lot today, and Hyukjae isn’t. He’s listening and occasionally flashing the camera a grin when it pans to his reaction.

Everyone laughs when Heechul implores the audience, the people watching at home, to believe him: “I really like girls.” It’s funny watching people give him a hard time, and Hyukjae finds himself laughing, too. It’s only when he stops to think about it, the signs in Heechul’s body language, the way he shifts just slightly in his seat, the rasp of his voice as he defends himself-there is something wrong with this picture. He doesn’t like to see him this way; it’s a Heechul he doesn’t feel comfortable with. Not the Heechul he respects and fears, most days.

It’s not that he… approves of homosexuality, even though he knows there are people like that, or that he thinks Heechul is that way, but it’s not right to corner someone in like that, even as a joke, on national television. G.O could’ve been more sensitive.

Hyukjae watches Heechul cross and uncross his legs, reach down to pluck a tissue and start wiping at his forehead.

He’s not sure why, but the taping leaves a bad taste in his mouth, even though everyone laughs at his gags.

Sulli is the new It Girl. She’s really cute, and Hyukjae likes having her around, although he himself isn’t around as much when she is, but she’s a nice girl, very cute, and if she were a couple years older he’d probably be all up on that. She smiles with crinkly eyes and is very polite, and Heechul treats her like his new favorite pet. Heechul has a way of doing that, spontaneous adoptions, and everyone is used to it by now. He goes through a phase where he pets and pampers you, and then you never quite leave his side, there’s definitely a master and serf dynamic going on here except the benefits are far better. He feeds you if he likes you. That’s always a perk. One that Hyukjae has never experienced until recently.

“We look really good together. Don’t you think we look really good together? I tweeted a picture of us today, and I know I shouldn’t be saying this but-“

“You look good together.”

“Right?” Heechul doesn’t pause for an answer. “She’s like the little sister I wish I had. I just want to raise her. You know? Shelter her from all the bad wolves.”

“You don’t think you fit into that category?” Hyukjae tries, resting his head back against the pillow and hitting a piece of wall instead. “Fuck.”

“What? And no, I’m just a mentor. A guide, if you will.”

“A role model?”

“Exactly.”

“What about Sohee? You want to be hers too?”

Heechul’s laugh sounds sharper over the phone. Harsh, ringing at that decibel just below intolerable. Hyukjae brings it an inch away from his ear to hear a more muted, “Sohee’s different. She’s like, like a little hamster. A sexy little hamster. I don’t know. We’re men. Why should I feel guilty?”

“Hyung,” Hyukjae says, but he can’t quite think up words to say after “sexy little hamster.”

“What?”

“You’re so… strange.”

Heechul’s cackle practically hurts. Hyukjae doesn’t know if he’ll be able to sleep tonight. “Sohee’s like this unattainable beautiful thing,” he says when he’s quieted down. There’s something serious about the way he’s talking, something that commands Hyukjae’s attention. “I like thinking about her, and talking about her, because there are no… consequences. Something like that. Am I saying too much?”

“Hmm.” Hyukjae makes a thinky sound in his throat.

“She’s like the doll you see behind the glass window and you’re like, hey that’s a cool doll. And then it starts moving and dancing, and you’re like, what is going on? But it’s amazing. But you can’t quite believe it. You know you can’t afford the doll, and you’re not even sure you really want it, but you walk by the store every day anyway. You get what I’m saying? What you really want is probably her shabbier-looking cousin, but someone else has already brought it…”

“Hmm.”

“Are you awake?”

“Hmm-yeah. Yes.” Hyukjae wipes a sliver of unsuspecting drool from his chin.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not really,” Hyukjae admits.

“I kind of lost track, too.”

Hyukjae cracks a smile. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up with his fingers still curled around the phone, held against his cheek.

“Where’re you here for?” Leeteuk asks, like Hyukjae doesn’t live in this building. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt, wet streaks in a triangular pattern across the front. Just came back from the gym. Hyukjae shuffles around the shoes at the entrance and nearly trips over a sneaker. He looks up and scratches the back of his head.

“Heechul is in the mood for a burger.”

It takes Leeteuk a while to process. The gears are turning, slowly. “Oh. Where?” He wipes a sheen of sweat off his forehead with the towel hung around his neck.

“I don’t know. Wanna come with?” Hyukjae kicks at a shoe.

“Nah. I’ll let you have your date.”

It’s Teuk-speak for about time.

“If you think I’m treating, think again.” Heechul, emerging from his room. He’s wearing the shirt he bought yesterday at Dongdaemun. Of course. It stretches over his frame tight, showing off the angles he’s proud of.

“Why can’t you just borrow Teukie-hyung’s card again?”

Heechul throws him a glare. “’Again’?” Leeteuk repeats, but Heechul’s already put on his sneakers and is pushing them both out the door.

They slip into the elevator before Leeteuk can chase after them with a slipper.

Hyukjae has underestimated the potential for awkwardness. Speaking on the phone for hours is not quite the same as speaking face-to-face. There are hand gestures, and you have to match your face to your voice. Heechul’s frowns, believe it or not, are louder in person.

“Hyung, you’re so thin” slips out as he watches Heechul inhale a burger. Heechul chews and chews and swallows before saying, “Thanks.”

“Are you still on a diet?”

“When am I not?”

“Right.”

“But you’d be surprised. Being depressed does wonders for your appetite.” Heechul grins quickly afterwards, as though counteracting the remark. But it’s not like Hyukjae is deaf or stupid.

“Um,” Hyukjae twists a corner of the wrapper, grasping. Words, words. “Do you, are you-how are you now?”

Heechul’s mouth drops. Revealing a mishmash of meat and lettuce and ketchup. “How do I look? You talk like I’m fucking dead already. Like I’ve got tubes in my, God, I don’t even want to think about it. Why are you ruining my meal like this?”

In all fairness, Hyukjae thinks, it should’ve been my meal, since it was paid for with my wallet. “Sorry. We just never talked about it. I get the feeling you want to.”

“I don’t. Leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Five minutes later of texting Donghae under the table (save me, Heechul-hyung has me trapped here in Wendys and I can’t figure out how to ditch without being rude (Donghae writes back sorry... have fun keke)), Heechul slurps his diet coke. “I lied. Pay attention to me.”

Hyukjae blinks away from his phone. “I am.”

“You were texting. Or looking at porn. Can you look at porn on your phone?”

“No,” Hyukjae says quickly.

Heechul gives him a look. Hyukjae hates that look.

“Anyway, I’m paying attention now. Talk to me,” Hyukjae says, folding his hands together on the table in his best imitation of an obedient schoolboy.

“We’ve never been good at that, now that I think about it.”

There’s an odd note of tenderness in the admission.

“Not really, I guess,” Hyukjae agrees, sheepish. The phone vibrates in his hand. Heechul steals it before he can react.

“’Tell him a funny story, like that one time you wet the bed after…’” Heechul reads aloud.

“Shit! Give that back!”

“’…and I tried to crawl into bed with you, poor unsuspecting me, kekeke.’ What are you, a fucking five-year-old?”

“Are you talking about Donghae or me?”

“You wet the bed? I wish I could update my cyworld right now.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, to think I was going to invite you over for a slumber party!”

“What?”

“Well, more accurately, I was going to invite myself down to your room. I’m still having trouble getting out the image of the little girl stabbing me in the back as I shower.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

Heechul laughs. He’s got a piece of lettuce in his teeth.

“This is very uncomfortable,” Heechul says, hurling Mr. Tofu Square over Hyukjae’s stomach. It hits the ground with a light plop.

“Hyung, you have your own bed.”

“But I’m lonely,” Heechul says, snuggling up to him.

There’s truth there, nestled between the lines and between the contours of their bodies, just touching.

“Okay. Just tonight,” Hyukjae says, tentatively folding into the horizontal hug. He clears his throat, because he needs to say this. It’s now or never, and he suspects he could go for the latter. He’s never been good at being brave.

“You know, I-I never really, we don’t really talk that much. Or we didn’t, up until recently. The past couple of months, I guess. So I never told you, like, if you ever wanted. I mean, I want to be there, if you wanted. For you. Even though it seems like I don’t. Care. I do, though.”

He trails off. Heechul is snoring.

“So,” Leeteuk tries again. “You’re like, friends now?”

“Yup,” Hyukjae says. He grabs a piece of toast off his hyung’s plate. “Thanks.”