[Super Junior] (You) Might Have Been (Mine), PG, Romance/Angst, KiHae & QMi
meitachi: ...FIC FOR ME CHRIS, FOR ME! I...want to fic too. Let's both fic! Umm...yeah. Idk. I want to write Kihae but I FORGOT HOW.
halcyon_morn: By all rights I should fic for you, Mei! But...I think I forgot how to Kihae, too! D:
-- the reason for this fic
(You) Might Have Been (Mine)
Super Junior, KiHae, QMi, PG, 1520 words
You'll never know if you don't say anything.
(You) Might Have Been (Mine)
by meitachi
Donghae used to love Kibum. Well, that’s not quite right, because Donghae still loves Kibum. In Super Junior, you don’t grow out of loving your members: as the years pass and you grow older together, you realize you never grow out of loving your family.
But Donghae used to love Kibum. Maybe it was love, maybe it was just a rush of butterflies and gilded wishes, of shared smiles and secret hopes, because Donghae was younger then and what did he know of love? (But, he thinks doubtfully, what does he know of love now?) It was that early period right after Kyuhyun joined when nothing seemed to be able to go wrong: they had established themselves as a group, they had adopted a new member to love, they were number one on the charts, and expanding across Asia. They were a sensation, at the top of their world, and Kibum’s every bright, white smile made Donghae fall deeper.
“What happened?” Zhou Mi asks quietly, because Donghae has a faraway look in his eyes. He’s playing with the hem of his shirt, idly, as if unaware as he stares out of the hotel room windows. Zhou Mi knows he’s not seeing the Hong Kong nightscape spread out before them, and suspects Donghae is instead lost somewhere in the past.
“Donghae?” he says, touching his arm. Donghae starts, blinks, smiles sheepishly.
“Aah, sorry, Mi.” He twists his shirt, a frown tugging at his lips. “We…started drifting apart.”
It was after the filming of the movie, of course. The movie was fun. It was some of the most fun Donghae had ever had, even though he’d struggled with memorizing his lines far more than he’d ever struggled to memorize choreography. Dancing came easily to him, fluid and natural, but acting - he’d made mistake after mistake, and the frustration had gotten away from him. He’d stalked off set more than once, angry with himself, only to have Kibum come talk to him; quiet, reassuring, steady Kibum. Kibum who’d wanted an acting career, who had so much experience, who, somehow, never lost patience with an irritable and unpracticed Donghae.
“I was so in love,” Donghae muses. He flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I guess you know what it’s like.”
Zhou Mi lets his own gaze drift out through the balcony, into the Hong Kong skyline, lit with nightlights. “You could say that,” he admits, laughing a little.
Donghae pats his thigh absently. “It’s okay. It’s a nice feeling, isn’t it?”
“Did he know?”
“I don’t think so. I mean…we were good friends. Back since before debut, since he was new at first and sort of shy, you know? But we got to be really good friends, and I could always make him smile by running around playing jokes and being silly. I don’t know if you ever saw Snow Dream-” Zhou Mi nods and Donghae sighs. “Yeah. We were really good friends.”
“But you drifted apart?”
It was after the movie. It began even before Marry U. But, somehow, it hadn’t seemed so threatening that Kibum was often busy with filming and didn’t hang out with the other members anymore. It was okay that he’d moved out to his own apartment and that Donghae didn’t see him as much as he used to. After all, Kibum still made every Marry U performance. He still laughed at Donghae’s jokes and teased him. They still played around backstage, and sometimes onstage, regardless of cameras. It was okay, because Kibum was busy and Donghae understood that; he’d been busy, too, recording and preparing for Super Junior M. It was natural and Donghae knew an idol’s life was always more stressful and hard on time than most people’s.
It was gradual, how it all happened, but it seemed like a blink of the eye when Donghae turned around and suddenly just Kibum wasn’t there. Not anymore.
So there had been China. And Kibum was busy acting. They didn’t talk much, because they were just both so busy. And then there was more China. And Kibum’s mother fell ill. Somewhere along the way, Donghae got used to not hearing from Kibum anymore. Got used to not wanting to tell Kibum when something funny or weird happened in China, because he had Eunhyuk, and Eeteuk, and Sungmin to tell. When Donghae returned to Korea, Kibum wasn’t around. When recording for the third album began, Kibum only sent a few encouraging and apologetic texts. They were sent to Heechul, and it was Heechul who mentioned Kibum after their performances of Sorry, Sorry. Donghae didn’t mind, because he was tripping over himself in excitement at learning choreography from Nick Bass and Trent Dickens. Donghae didn’t mind, because he had forgotten what it was like to turn around and find Kibum there, arms around him as he wiped away tears.
Somewhere along the way, Donghae had fallen out of love with Kibum.
“And he never knew?” Zhou Mi says. He has spread out on the bed next to Donghae, flat on his stomach, his chin propped up in his hands. He looks like a twelve-year-old girl ready to gossip. Donghae stifles a grin and shakes his head at Zhou Mi’s curious eyes.
“Nope. Sad, isn’t it?” He puts his hands behind his head and looks up at the ceiling again. When he speaks again, Zhou Mi can hear the pain in his voice. Donghae has always been the sunny, energetic one - but his moments of seriousness come with surprising depth and maturity. Zhou Mi thinks people often underestimate Donghae. “The saddest thing, really, is that somewhere along the way, I think I lost a friend.”
Zhou Mi bites his lip, silent for a moment. Then, suddenly, he flings his arms around Donghae, an unexpected weight. Donghae flails momentarily as Zhou Mi murmurs, earnestly,
“Don’t give up, Donghae-yah! You never know what might happen.” His eyes turn serious. “You never know what might happen if you try again. You could be surprised. I’m sure Kibum misses you too.”
Donghae pushes Zhou Mi off. “It’s okay, Mimi. Why don’t we just focus on your love life?”
Just like that, Zhou Mi deflates. His shoulders sag and he rolls away across the bed. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he says quietly. “Kyuhyun doesn’t love me. Not that way.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.” Donghae’s voice is sad. He reaches out and pets Zhou Mi’s hair, wistfully. “You’ll always wonder, and then one day you might fall out of love. And then you’ll never know if it could’ve been something more.”
He sighs.
***
Donghae used to love Kibum. Kibum knows this, has always known this, but right now the knowledge is redundant. Useless.
Donghae used to love Kibum. But they were apart for too long, and time and distance and people came between them. Now Donghae laughs with Kyuhyun, teases Henry, jokes with Zhou Mi, and always returns to Eunhyuk, eyes bright, arms open, in the way that best friends just are. Now Kibum sees the white walls of the hospital more than he sees the mirrors of the rehearsal room. He steels his heart every time he has to walk in and see his mother lying, frail and pale, among the stark gleaming machinery. He misses the idol life: the grueling dance practices, the painfully early hours, the recording, the work, the sweat, even the crazy fans. All of that seems like an easier option now, when here he has to pace the hallway, frustrated that he can’t understand everything the doctor is saying, trying to calm his father down, waiting, anxious.
He misses the other members. He misses their laughter and support, their friendship and camaraderie. He even misses their bad jokes and poorly-timed quips, their inappropriate touching and obnoxious habits.
He misses Donghae, who had opened his arms to him all those years ago, stepping back into an unfamiliar country. He misses Donghae, who made him smile, who was so easily frustrated when trying to memorize lines for the movie, when dancing came so easily, so naturally to him. He misses Donghae, who is a bundle of energy and sunshine and laughter, of genuine love and sincerity towards the fans, even at their worst, towards everyone he meets, who all love him.
Everyone loves Donghae.
Donghae used to love Kibum, who knew and knows, and wishes it could change something.
Because Donghae used to love Kibum, but Kibum still loves Donghae.
***
Zhou Mi knocks on Kyuhyun’s door and takes a breath when Kyuhyun shouts, “Come in!” from inside.
When he slips inside, Kyuhyun’s on the bed, playing some game on his laptop. He glances up at Zhou Mi and smiles, and it’s like a punch to the gut, the way it steals Zhou Mi’s breath. “Hey,” Kyuhyun says. “What’s up?” He goes back to the game, fingers flying.
Over the beeps and gunshots and sundry sound effects of death coming from the speakers, Zhou Mi says, a little hesitantly, “I have to tell you something. Can…can we talk?”
Started/Finished: 2009.05.05
Notes: In conclusion:
meitachi: CHRIS I AM WRITING KIHAE FIC AND IT IS SO BORING AND UNFUNNY AND NOT HAPPY OR GAY. MY KIHAE MOJO BROKE, SOB.
;__; /fails at writing forever
halcyon_morn: By all rights I should fic for you, Mei! But...I think I forgot how to Kihae, too! D:
-- the reason for this fic
(You) Might Have Been (Mine)
Super Junior, KiHae, QMi, PG, 1520 words
You'll never know if you don't say anything.
(You) Might Have Been (Mine)
by meitachi
Donghae used to love Kibum. Well, that’s not quite right, because Donghae still loves Kibum. In Super Junior, you don’t grow out of loving your members: as the years pass and you grow older together, you realize you never grow out of loving your family.
But Donghae used to love Kibum. Maybe it was love, maybe it was just a rush of butterflies and gilded wishes, of shared smiles and secret hopes, because Donghae was younger then and what did he know of love? (But, he thinks doubtfully, what does he know of love now?) It was that early period right after Kyuhyun joined when nothing seemed to be able to go wrong: they had established themselves as a group, they had adopted a new member to love, they were number one on the charts, and expanding across Asia. They were a sensation, at the top of their world, and Kibum’s every bright, white smile made Donghae fall deeper.
“What happened?” Zhou Mi asks quietly, because Donghae has a faraway look in his eyes. He’s playing with the hem of his shirt, idly, as if unaware as he stares out of the hotel room windows. Zhou Mi knows he’s not seeing the Hong Kong nightscape spread out before them, and suspects Donghae is instead lost somewhere in the past.
“Donghae?” he says, touching his arm. Donghae starts, blinks, smiles sheepishly.
“Aah, sorry, Mi.” He twists his shirt, a frown tugging at his lips. “We…started drifting apart.”
It was after the filming of the movie, of course. The movie was fun. It was some of the most fun Donghae had ever had, even though he’d struggled with memorizing his lines far more than he’d ever struggled to memorize choreography. Dancing came easily to him, fluid and natural, but acting - he’d made mistake after mistake, and the frustration had gotten away from him. He’d stalked off set more than once, angry with himself, only to have Kibum come talk to him; quiet, reassuring, steady Kibum. Kibum who’d wanted an acting career, who had so much experience, who, somehow, never lost patience with an irritable and unpracticed Donghae.
“I was so in love,” Donghae muses. He flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I guess you know what it’s like.”
Zhou Mi lets his own gaze drift out through the balcony, into the Hong Kong skyline, lit with nightlights. “You could say that,” he admits, laughing a little.
Donghae pats his thigh absently. “It’s okay. It’s a nice feeling, isn’t it?”
“Did he know?”
“I don’t think so. I mean…we were good friends. Back since before debut, since he was new at first and sort of shy, you know? But we got to be really good friends, and I could always make him smile by running around playing jokes and being silly. I don’t know if you ever saw Snow Dream-” Zhou Mi nods and Donghae sighs. “Yeah. We were really good friends.”
“But you drifted apart?”
It was after the movie. It began even before Marry U. But, somehow, it hadn’t seemed so threatening that Kibum was often busy with filming and didn’t hang out with the other members anymore. It was okay that he’d moved out to his own apartment and that Donghae didn’t see him as much as he used to. After all, Kibum still made every Marry U performance. He still laughed at Donghae’s jokes and teased him. They still played around backstage, and sometimes onstage, regardless of cameras. It was okay, because Kibum was busy and Donghae understood that; he’d been busy, too, recording and preparing for Super Junior M. It was natural and Donghae knew an idol’s life was always more stressful and hard on time than most people’s.
It was gradual, how it all happened, but it seemed like a blink of the eye when Donghae turned around and suddenly just Kibum wasn’t there. Not anymore.
So there had been China. And Kibum was busy acting. They didn’t talk much, because they were just both so busy. And then there was more China. And Kibum’s mother fell ill. Somewhere along the way, Donghae got used to not hearing from Kibum anymore. Got used to not wanting to tell Kibum when something funny or weird happened in China, because he had Eunhyuk, and Eeteuk, and Sungmin to tell. When Donghae returned to Korea, Kibum wasn’t around. When recording for the third album began, Kibum only sent a few encouraging and apologetic texts. They were sent to Heechul, and it was Heechul who mentioned Kibum after their performances of Sorry, Sorry. Donghae didn’t mind, because he was tripping over himself in excitement at learning choreography from Nick Bass and Trent Dickens. Donghae didn’t mind, because he had forgotten what it was like to turn around and find Kibum there, arms around him as he wiped away tears.
Somewhere along the way, Donghae had fallen out of love with Kibum.
“And he never knew?” Zhou Mi says. He has spread out on the bed next to Donghae, flat on his stomach, his chin propped up in his hands. He looks like a twelve-year-old girl ready to gossip. Donghae stifles a grin and shakes his head at Zhou Mi’s curious eyes.
“Nope. Sad, isn’t it?” He puts his hands behind his head and looks up at the ceiling again. When he speaks again, Zhou Mi can hear the pain in his voice. Donghae has always been the sunny, energetic one - but his moments of seriousness come with surprising depth and maturity. Zhou Mi thinks people often underestimate Donghae. “The saddest thing, really, is that somewhere along the way, I think I lost a friend.”
Zhou Mi bites his lip, silent for a moment. Then, suddenly, he flings his arms around Donghae, an unexpected weight. Donghae flails momentarily as Zhou Mi murmurs, earnestly,
“Don’t give up, Donghae-yah! You never know what might happen.” His eyes turn serious. “You never know what might happen if you try again. You could be surprised. I’m sure Kibum misses you too.”
Donghae pushes Zhou Mi off. “It’s okay, Mimi. Why don’t we just focus on your love life?”
Just like that, Zhou Mi deflates. His shoulders sag and he rolls away across the bed. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he says quietly. “Kyuhyun doesn’t love me. Not that way.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.” Donghae’s voice is sad. He reaches out and pets Zhou Mi’s hair, wistfully. “You’ll always wonder, and then one day you might fall out of love. And then you’ll never know if it could’ve been something more.”
He sighs.
***
Donghae used to love Kibum. Kibum knows this, has always known this, but right now the knowledge is redundant. Useless.
Donghae used to love Kibum. But they were apart for too long, and time and distance and people came between them. Now Donghae laughs with Kyuhyun, teases Henry, jokes with Zhou Mi, and always returns to Eunhyuk, eyes bright, arms open, in the way that best friends just are. Now Kibum sees the white walls of the hospital more than he sees the mirrors of the rehearsal room. He steels his heart every time he has to walk in and see his mother lying, frail and pale, among the stark gleaming machinery. He misses the idol life: the grueling dance practices, the painfully early hours, the recording, the work, the sweat, even the crazy fans. All of that seems like an easier option now, when here he has to pace the hallway, frustrated that he can’t understand everything the doctor is saying, trying to calm his father down, waiting, anxious.
He misses the other members. He misses their laughter and support, their friendship and camaraderie. He even misses their bad jokes and poorly-timed quips, their inappropriate touching and obnoxious habits.
He misses Donghae, who had opened his arms to him all those years ago, stepping back into an unfamiliar country. He misses Donghae, who made him smile, who was so easily frustrated when trying to memorize lines for the movie, when dancing came so easily, so naturally to him. He misses Donghae, who is a bundle of energy and sunshine and laughter, of genuine love and sincerity towards the fans, even at their worst, towards everyone he meets, who all love him.
Everyone loves Donghae.
Donghae used to love Kibum, who knew and knows, and wishes it could change something.
Because Donghae used to love Kibum, but Kibum still loves Donghae.
***
Zhou Mi knocks on Kyuhyun’s door and takes a breath when Kyuhyun shouts, “Come in!” from inside.
When he slips inside, Kyuhyun’s on the bed, playing some game on his laptop. He glances up at Zhou Mi and smiles, and it’s like a punch to the gut, the way it steals Zhou Mi’s breath. “Hey,” Kyuhyun says. “What’s up?” He goes back to the game, fingers flying.
Over the beeps and gunshots and sundry sound effects of death coming from the speakers, Zhou Mi says, a little hesitantly, “I have to tell you something. Can…can we talk?”
Started/Finished: 2009.05.05
Notes: In conclusion:
meitachi: CHRIS I AM WRITING KIHAE FIC AND IT IS SO BORING AND UNFUNNY AND NOT HAPPY OR GAY. MY KIHAE MOJO BROKE, SOB.
;__; /fails at writing forever