#16 [U-Kiss/2PM, Soohyun/Hoon, Soohyun/Kiseop, Soohyun/Junho]
Fandom: U-Kiss/2PM
Title: re:
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Soohyun/Hoon, Soohyun/Kiseop, Soohyun/Junho
Length: 6,067 words
Summary: we will destroy ourselves.
Warnings: suicidal thoughts
Notes: I am so honored to be able to remix this fic because I am a huge fan of it, as well as all your other writing ♥
Remixee author: qiguai
Title of work you remixed: a love song in four drafts
Link to work you remixed: http://qiguai.livejournal.com/32264.html
It’s absolute lunacy, Kevin tells him one day, someday when he, again, forgets to listen. What you’re doing to your life is absolute lunacy.
Kevin isn’t even one to give much advice, Soohyun remembers belatedly - thoughts slow, memories slower. Someone told his mother once, “Soohyun is a driven child. He gives one hundred ten percent into everything and goes for perfection at his own expense. To the point of madness, even.” One of his elementary school teachers, sometime after his father died. They never discussed the situation further.
He looks down at his papers, the pencils, the pens, the melodies that do not play the way he wants them to, the frustration. The spiral notebook he’s been pressing his left arm against leaves deep indentations against his skin - almost scar-like. Paper-cuts, blood-shot eyes - things felt but not seen. Maybe he doesn’t want to see them at all, humming and attempting and failing. Maybe he’s Thomas Edison, ninety-nine percent perspiration and ten thousand ways that don’t work.
Maybe, he thinks over a beer at three AM, paper and little black music notes burned into his vision, this is lunacy.
Chasing perfection is some kind of dangerous deal with the devil, some kind of risky second chance at a life you wanted to change. The ashes spill over an empty apartment floor - the remnants of years of maniac work ethic and lost happiness. He sleeps beside them, one thing on his mind, one dream in his thoughts - the perfect love song.
And so he begins to run.
(un)
The implied statement is that he wouldn’t have survived long as a solo singer, anyway. No one says so outright, no one would dare be so blatant and damaging, but Hoonmin feels it nonetheless. He doesn’t doubt it - how would he be able to stand out with so few promotions? - but sometimes a what if, what if I could have made it, what if I didn’t have to share a room, what if, what if, what if, intrudes into his mind. He simply smiles at his fellow members and lets it die off.
U-Kiss is a family, albeit a little awkward around him first (Eli). But they greet him with friendly smiles, give him advice (“The manager hates when someone does that.”), and treat him well, so Hoonmin considers himself lucky. He grows attached to each of them and accustomed to their personalities quickly: Kevin, good-natured with a tendency to cling onto people, Kiseop, nice to the point of being a pushover, AJ, withdrawn to his own thoughts at times and outgoing in others, Dongho, an utterly complicated teenager who seems beyond his years, Eli, slow to open up to new people, and Soohyun.
He’s not quite sure how to describe Soohyun.
Soohyun’s the kind of guy that everyone can’t help but love, with his talent, his manners, his charm and humor - everything. Hoonmin can’t remember when he begins looking up to him, he just does, and before he knows it, he catches himself watching the older boy constantly. Soohyun catches his glance a couple times, during break, during a car ride to a schedule, but just smiles and asks about his family and whether or not practice is too hard on him. Hoonmin likes Soohyun especially not because he understands what he’s feeling (that would be more AJ, but AJ has a completely different past when he thinks about it), but for trying to make it easier. For trying to lift a bit of the burden off his shoulders, everyone else’s shoulders too, and put it on his own back. Like Atlas, Hoonmin thinks one day, when he’s about to fall asleep in the van, Kiseop, Dongho, and Eli long lost to unconsciousness, Soohyun staring out the window. Hoonmin squints and Soohyun’s reflection in the window flickers, focuses. He thinks he sees blood-shot eyes and dark circles set on distance, ambition, determination. It makes him feel safe, as safe as he can feel in a business like this.
He wonders if Soohyun feels that way, too.
“I think I’m going to puke,” he thinks aloud, crowd of screaming fans waiting to meet them. There’s this incessant tapping noise against the table, and it’s really quite annoying, that he realizes is his own pen hitting the plastic top. Soohyun, who’s sitting next to him, gives him this deadpan look, but Hoonmin can tell that he really wants to laugh. He lets his own nervous fit of chuckles loose and grabs the older boy’s arm. To calm himself, he rationalizes, the fans screaming even louder. Nothing more than that. He lets go not long after, when they start letting the fans over.
Hoonmin manages to keep a smile plastered on his face even when he feels this nagging sense of trepidation - he’s never been especially good with people up close, let alone strangers, let alone excited strangers who want hugs (he hopes none of them have noticed how his arms shake when he gets them around their bodies). As time passes, he feels himself loosen up a bit and mentally pats himself on the back for not proving his earlier puke claim correct. He starts feeling a little euphoric, even - light-headed joy for all the fans that have come to support them.
As the meet ends, he looks over at Soohyun in one of his customary glances, expecting him to crack a joke about his nervousness, but finds his eyes cloudy and face pale, far from ambition and determination. “You okay?” he manages to ask as they’re waiting to board the van. The leader shrugs, “Just tired.” The other five members fill it up before they can get in. Hoonmin watches as it drives away, the manager calling another one, Soohyun staring vacantly, his breath visible in the cold air - no white puff large enough to be a sigh. He’s never seen him so - he can’t quite describe what the older boy seems to be feeling - upset? Empty? Distracted? He doesn’t react to Hoonmin’s concerned glances, though he is sure that Soohyun can see his head turning toward him in the corner of his vision.
He gets the idea - the kind he doesn’t get very often - of cheering Soohyun up by taking a break. Their manager objects initially (“you’re already getting only three hours of sleep each night. are you trying to ask for even less?”) but he begs a little bit and earns an eye roll and a nod. Soohyun tenses when he takes his arm, snapping him out of his thoughts. “What are you waiting for?” he smiles, walking toward the barrier the fans stand behind. “The manager just said we could take off.”
Soohyun echoes his statement with eyebrows creased before resisting Hoonmin’s lead. “What are you doing, hyung?” he frowns. The older boy pauses.
“Want to get a drink? I know a bar this way,” and they start walking the opposite direction. The glint in Soohyun’s eyes returns so Hoonmin just smiles to himself and goes along with it.
The rest of the night consists of a whirlwind of firsts, Hoonmin would like to think, if he could narrate his life into some romantic notion. Not that he had never gotten drunk before, just not like this - drink after drink, slurring a rant to Soohyun, leaving Soohyun to pay the bill, letting Soohyun dump him in a taxi and take them both to his place. When the world finally starts going clear again, he wakes up to the smell of Soohyun’s winter coats - things that have undoubtedly soaked up his scent in their three season neglect. He slurs out the obvious question, “Where are we?” still a little groggy and half-disoriented, his head and heart pounding painstakingly slow together.
Soohyun smiles, like he’s amused. “My house. I thought your family might be worried if I brought you back like this.” Hoonmin instinctively murmurs his agreement before tangling himself further into the sheets Soohyun set on top of him.
The thought suddenly hits him as he’s falling asleep again, the heaviness of his eyelids almost glazing over the details. It pushes them open, the dryness of his eyes hitting him then. Hoonmin glances over at Soohyun, the other boy drifting off into sleep with eyes just as blood-shot, pupils clear. He feels safe, unshakably, undoubtedly safe in Soohyun’s house, in Soohyun’s sheets, Soohyun just an arm’s length away. “Hey, hyung?”
“What’s up?” he answers immediately with a yawn. The alcohol is wearing away to the anxiety, the butterflies in his stomach, the shaking excitement. His heart beats, beats, beats, his head pounding as the rhythm quickens.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Yeah, once.” (beat, beat, beat)
“But not anymore?” Hoonmin feels his heart in his throat, beat, beat, beating. It flutters there, hummingbird wings, iridescent butterflies.
“That was a different time - a different world.” Blue shadows from the window catch on the contours of Soohyun’s face, eyes unreadable and black, facing the ceiling. He wants to see them, ambition and determination, safety.
He creeps over to Soohyun boldly muttering excuses of how he’s drunk, so drunk, really drunk - smile evident in his voice. Soohyun pulls him over but Hoonmin encases him in his arms first, kisses him first - sticky sweet and lingering alcoholic breath bitter, novice and messy but ultimately satisfying. Soohyun’s lips move in return, soft and maybe a little bruised, even - in the psychological sense, if that’s possible. These are not the first lips Hoonmin has ever kissed, neither are these Soohyun’s, but they feel aged and weathered nonetheless, like this is the new North Star he is resigning himself to.
This, Hoonmin believes, is when he starts wanting to be the one who makes Soohyun feel safe - as safe as they can be in this business.
Five years pass - five years of secret bliss and late-night escapades. They make-out in nooks and crannies where no one can find them, risk being found out when they can’t deny each other for a three hour long recording but ultimately, never are. Soohyun gives him these special smiles, or at least he’d like to label them as his (possession and all) - larger upturns of those beautiful, beautiful lips and full of teeth. Hoonmin finds himself staying over at Soohyun’s more often than not, and the older boy even moves to a slightly larger apartment (that Hoonmin saw the advertisement to) to accommodate both of them. Life goes well: successful singles, fame from more frequent promotional activities, the long-awaited awards. Everything is so perfect that Hoonmin is afraid he’ll wake up one day to find it all derailing and spiraling downwards. Instead, sometimes he glances at Soohyun and finds him staring vacantly, upset, empty, distracted, at who knows what for who knows why. When he shakes him out of his reverie, or even when he doesn’t, Soohyun just blinks, trying to focus his cloudy eyes, smiles and says his name.
Some days, he wonders if this is worse.
Things happen all at once. One day he realizes he’s not twenty-two anymore, the next, Soohyun leaves for the army. The members start pursuing their own careers, and he his - to finally have his chance to survive as a solo singer. Schedules and activities pile up, the world blurs, exciting yet monotonous without Soohyun there. They keep in touch through email and text, but it’s not the same - never the same as those warm arms around him, that steady heartbeat behind his back, those special smiles, the secret hand-holding. He tells him this sometimes, in the whispers they are so used to.
“I wrote a song for you,” he yawns into the receiver one day, their call lasting until midnight. Soohyun paused for a second before laughing. Hoonmin wonders if the fact is funny.
“I hope I’ll return the favor one day,” Soohyun replies, like his mind has been made up from the start. Like this is his fate, resigned and chained to it, some kind of romantic notion that Hoonmin tried not to fall into, but did anyway.
It’s Soohyun’s idea to do it. He comes out of the army and at the welcome back party, he just announces it to everyone. The straightforwardness makes Hoonmin blush, even after years of lingering glances and sweaty, probing hands. Dongho rolls his eyes (“took you long enough”), all their friends supportive, Soohyun’s mother fanning herself. He watches as Junho gives Soohyun an uneasy pat on the back, as Jo Kwon proposes they have a wedding, as Kiseop grows determined to see it through - bright yellow bow ties and all. Hoonmin laughs and never remembers feeling as happy as he does now, as he does when they make their vows, cheesy hotel ballroom, eight ushers, and best man all in on the secret.
They start working together again - music label, producing their own songs. They come out with their own album, a success, and Soohyun declares not long after that in the middle of brushing their teeth that he wants to write their song. He has Hoonmin help, days in their worn down pajamas and nights spent with the lights on, never sleeping before or long after dawn. They jot down melodies over and under one another, always some limb entangled with the other’s.
Six months later, they release the song and retire (“going out with a bang,” kevin laughed over the phone when he called to congratulate them), listening and singing along horribly when it plays on the radio. Hoonmin kisses Soohyun on the cheek as they celebrate their retirement with thickly-frosted cake and red wine, blowing out the candles together.
Soohyun tacks up the original draft of their song on the wall next to his desk. Soohyun stares at it, puts the track on loop, replays it until Hoonmin can’t stand hearing it even through the little whine of his headphones.
“Can’t you just accept our retirement?” he mumbles one night when Soohyun won’t come to bed. He merely laughs at himself in reply.
He grows obsessed, like he’s looking for something wrong in the sheets of music they spent months on. Like his mind had been made up from the start, like their entire relationship had existed for the sole purpose of this song. Hoonmin dismisses the thoughts as paranoia - it’s merely just a phase, he’ll come around soon. The appeasement continues for weeks, months, half a year.
He wakes up one morning to find Soohyun’s room empty. The original draft of their song is gone from the wall.
“Soohyun?” he calls, poking his head out into the hallway. The apartment echoes his words back to him. This is the emptiness, the staring vacantly, the upsetting, distracted loss of ambition and determination and safety.
This is his fate, resigned and chained to it, some kind of romantic notion that Hoonmin tried not to fall into, but did anyway.
The living room smells like ashes.
(deux)
If Kiseop’s being generous to himself, and he is often, he doesn’t want to set himself off again, he’d congratulate himself for making it this far. He’s a trainee, he has a (possible) spot in a group - the odds are good for him. But the malignant thought lingers sometimes: why am I still not good enough? He’ll watch the other boys practice and wonder how he can become like them - funny like Kibum, good at languages like Alexander, likeable like Kevin, good at rapping like Eli, youthful like Dongho, and talented at singing like Soohyun. Sometimes he forces himself to stop watching because it bruises the areas where the scars still fester.
He thinks of his mother instead.
Soohyun manages to find him one day, hanging upside down on a ballet bar - the blood rushing to his head intended to flush the doubts out (they only flooded back in when Soohyun barged in). Soohyun’s the nice hyung, maybe a little overbearing and eager to give advice at times, but Kiseop appreciates his efforts. He takes it upon himself to know and look after, and sometimes Kiseop wonders why he decides to shoulder that burden.
“At this rate they’ll never let you debut.” He’s smiling, so Kiseop knows he’s joking, but it cuts into him for some reason. He shrugs in response.
“Then I might as well enjoy myself, right?” Soohyun chews his lip in guilt at his response, making Kiseop regret it a little. His picking up Kiseop’s bag and declaring that practice is over clears it a bit, though.
They get coffee from the vending machine, a hand-held heater for the chilling autumn wind. It crosses Kiseop’s mind that he could make small-talk, about the weather, how cold it’s getting and how they’ll have to break out their December coats next week. Other thoughts push them under. It occurs to him that Soohyun isn’t talking either, so he withdraws back into his own thoughts.
“Do you think they’ll ever find a place for me?” Kiseop asks, intentionally difficult. He stares at the sky, the universe, and wonders when the snow will start falling. Snow, unlike the other variables in this world, he knew would always come.
Soohyun shifts, shoes slapping the sidewalk. He proceeds carefully, cautiously, processing the exact words. “I think that you’ve already found your place.”
It’s a bit trite, like he’s heard the saying before from a fortune cookie, but Kiseop smiles. Soohyun’s eyes linger on him and he lets them, lets them search his face, lets them process images that he can memorize. He looks away, abashed, when Kiseop speaks again.
“See you tomorrow, hyung,” he smiles, wondering and kind of knowing, in a sense, what Soohyun was looking for. The older boy waves and waits until he disappears into the building before shifting his feet again. Kiseop still sees him standing there when he looks down from his floor, as if he’s waiting at a train station, or for something that would be able to take him far, far away.
Soohyun seeks him out even more often than usual as U-Kiss’s comeback approaches, taking him out to lunch and dinner or just practicing late into the night. The attention makes Kiseop feel a little giddy, a little bit like a child again, knowing that Soohyun cares, in some way. He wonders sometimes if he has become the largest fraction of the burden the older boy puts upon himself but tries to shake away the guilt, since the doubts are closely associated with it.
He’s not sure whether it’s the fact that his singing is improving or if it’s Soohyun’s fussy attention on him, but either way, Kiseop starts feeling better about himself and more confident. The ballet bar ceases to be a frequent destination to purge the negative thoughts that swirl in his head.
Sometimes he catches Soohyun looking at him a certain way, half-affectionate, half-questioning. Kiseop can’t count his intuition as the truth, but he wouldn’t be able to deny Soohyun’s love, if it turned out to be his, that is.
It occurs all at once - one huge, hulking, glittering blur. They announce Kiseop’s entry into U-Kiss, the members congratulating him with claps on the back and hugs (Kevin). Soohyun smiles in the corner amidst the celebration, eyes a little uncertain, gaze a little questioning, all affectionate. Kiseop follows him out into the hallway and kisses the doubts away and considers himself Soohyun’s truth - the answer.
The members find out soon after (observant, Soohyun groans) when Kiseop can’t be sated for four hours on merely one quick peck in the bathroom. He’s never been subtle and why should he? He voices this to Soohyun after Kibum gives them a lecture that they largely ignored, smiles too big to take the words to heart.
“Because,” Soohyun starts after practice one day, when they’re walking out the back entrance with their limbs entwined. “Because they won’t like it.”
The words are ominous, foreboding. Kiseop doesn’t ask him to elaborate.
It starts out easy in their little circle of the company building. He starts sleeping over at Soohyun’s, making up the excuse that Soohyun’s place is closer to NHM than Kiseop’s, and their parents allow it. They’ll take little risks for the hell of it - a little peck behind the manager’s back there, feeling under each other’s shirts as they sleep side-by-side during the night here. They throw themselves into the comeback for the most part, only spoiling themselves with intimacy after dance practice, when they’re sticky with sweat and Dongho hisses whenever they cuddle.
“Do you think we’ll be able to stay like this?” Kiseop whispers one night, Soohyun’s hands tracing the sharp ridges of his shoulders. He realizes how many hypothetical questions he’s asked in the past week - too many what-ifs to count - and how many reassuring or realistic answers Soohyun has supplied him with - just as many. The hand stops above Kiseop’s heart and they just feel it beat, vibrating through the both of them.
“I hope so.” The answer is far from concrete, far from what he wanted to hear. He places his arms around Soohyun and takes this, instead, as the reply.
The answer is far from concrete, far from what he expected.
All hell breaks loose - Kiseop wonders what if, what if they didn’t need to be so physical? What if they could control themselves better, what if he could control himself better? If they took better care of themselves, if they were a little more cautious, if, if, if. They were making out, his lips on Soohyun’s throat, and the door opened. Comeback stage, he remembered as he registered the woman’s shocked expression, how she ran out of the room. U-Kiss’s comeback stage, he remembered after Soohyun did, a heavier burden replacing the previous load.
The hallway is empty when they finally compose themselves and walk out of the room. “Maybe she didn’t tell,” he whispers, Soohyun nodding like he wants to believe it, his eyes giving away the lost hopes. Kiseop, hypothetical situations, false hope, the one who was kissing him. He longs for the ballet bar.
The members don’t seem to notice anything strange when they come back. Eli nudges them teasingly and Kibum rolls his eyes. The stylist fixes his hair and he wonders if she can see him trembling when she does so.
When they walk down the hallway to their recording, the staff stares at them suspiciously, a murmur of whispers passing between them behind clipboards. Kiseop swallows as he watches the woman that walked in on them point at Soohyun as he passes.
He feels fortunate that he had no major parts in the performance and congratulates himself for making it through the stage without any colossal mistakes, a generosity that temporarily calms his nerves and prevents him from being set off.
Kiseop decides he hates the idol world.
The articles start surfacing just weeks later, picking up momentum and accuracy as time goes on. Things unfold, go back to how they used to be, almost. He lies on his own bed, eyes to the ceiling, his apartment’s ceiling with the strange water stain, not Soohyun’s popcorn one. The notifications are continuous at first - new reports, new texts, new calls, contact this, contact that, contact that he doesn’t want to respond to. He can’t see Soohyun, tell him he’s sorry, ask him why, why he decided to shoulder such a burden. When he gets around to replying to the messages, most of them Soohyun’s, some of them the other members’, frustration hidden behind encouraging smiley faces and hearts, he responds with hypothetical hope - the kind that ruined them, no, him, in the first place.
What’s left for me? he asks the sky, the universe, one day, mouth too tired to form the words. There is no trite, fortune cookie saying, just his family arguing, the manager relaying messages, notifications beeping on his phone, and the absence, a gaping hole, of Soohyun by his side, the answers and reassurance that shouldered a bit of his burden but couldn’t help it from crashing down upon him once more.
He longs for the ballet bar.
A month or so after the outbreak, the manager comes with the ultimatum: the press conference to tell the public that they are not gay, nor in love. He’s told Soohyun has agreed to it. He gets the text later that night - I know it’s a lie, but this may be our only shot at saving U-Kiss. It won’t mean anything, right?
It won’t mean anything. But everything. Kiseop closes his eyes, mind inundated with thoughts and doubts. Would I take all that back? Soohyun, half-questioning, half-affectionate, secret kisses there, sleeping next to each other here? Whose fault was it, really? His, Soohyun’s, the woman’s?
No answer is concrete. Soohyun is not there either, no stability to wrap his arms around, to call his own. He hates, hates the idol world, hates how easy it once was, hates this outcome, himself, the fact that he ruined something for so many people, people who were happy when he first joined them.
He agrees to the press conference.
Kiseop stops being so generous to himself.
It happens slowly, painlessly, all for the better. The last thing he remembers is Soohyun’s frozen fingers tracing the space between his ribs as they slept side by side.
“I’m going to write you a song someday,” he whispered, sending chills up Kiseop’s spine. He thinks he smiled widely at that, hand grasping Soohyun’s free one under the sheets.
Kiseop hopes, hypothetically, that Soohyun will still find it inside of him to do so.
He never took his December coat off its hanger that year.
(trois)
Junho’s never believed himself to be exceptionally talented - good enough, maybe, enough to get the vocal and dancing teachers off his back, but not enough for the real thing, debuting. Some of the trainees are stars that need some polishing; it’s obvious that they’re destined for success in the idol world. So what becomes of those like him - so stuck in mediocrity and the in between? Do they merely gravitate toward the best and make them look better? He’s no Jokwon, Changmin, or -
Soohyun.
It’s weird, Junho thinks, but ever since he first met Soohyun, he’s liked him. Soohyun’s one of those people - friendly, talented, funny - that no one can hate. Sometimes he’s a tad envious, talent all dulcet tones and powerful dancing while Junho tries not to flounder, but all-in-all, he’s certain that it’s quite impossible to slander Soohyun (possibly because he’s friends with jokwon, but still).
They hang around different circles - Junho with Taecyeon and Jaebum and Soohyun with Jokwon - but Soohyun always smiles when they pass each other in the hallway, when they catch each other’s gazes during a lesson. It’s hard to tell what the older boy is thinking, and Junho wonders why he’d even dare jump to such conclusions when they aren’t even close, but sometimes, Soohyun reminds of an aged soul - someone who’s seen the weight of the world and carried it upon his shoulders, only to have it crush him underfoot.
They walk home together one day, shoes crushing slick snow, hands deep in the pockets of their coats. He gets to know Soohyun better through flustered questions (him) and thorough yet cryptic replies (Soohyun). When Junho finishes his interrogation (as Soohyun jokingly referred to it as), he fills the silent void with a discussion over the weather. Soohyun laughs at that, for some reason.
“You’re different, Junho,” Soohyun smiles, shaking his head, as if he’d done this before. He kicks a stray pile of snow and gets caught behind slightly. Junho feels the heat rising to his cheeks.
“What are you talking about?” he stammers in response, only making Soohyun laugh more. He gives in and laughs, too, until they don’t really remember what they’re laughing about (“your face,” soohyun teases) anymore.
The next day, when Jaebum and Taecyeon start speaking English again, Junho wonders why he couldn’t have befriended Soohyun first.
Jokwon screams his name and points at him the next time he and Soohyun see Junho in the hallway. He jogs over to assess the damage, but he merely walks away, leaving Soohyun and Junho to themselves.
“Don’t mind him. We’re having marital problems,” Soohyun jokes to his confused expression, earning an even more confused response. He processes the words slowly before laughing awkwardly and wringing his hands out nervously.
“Do you have time after practice?” he finally manages to spit out after an embarrassing show of tumbling his tongue over the words. Soohyun blinks and Junho feels his hope falter.
He nods instead. “Sure, why?”
He swallows, nervous knots and heart beating like a heart attack finding their way to his stomach. “Mind if we grab dinner?” Soohyun courteously agrees (it was out of courtesy, he’d like to think) before Junho runs off.
They’ve never really talked one-on-one, face-to-face, the whole ordeal, over a meal or an amount of time that Jokwon deemed acceptable. Soohyun starts the conversation mostly, but over halfway through his food, Junho manages to begin ranting about lessons and teachers and gush about how amazing Soohyun and Jokwon are at singing. He vaguely realizes that he’s growing more animated and excited, heat rushing to his cheeks, chopsticks waving around.
“You seem to have a lot on your mind,” Soohyun replies to his outflow of words, poking at his uneaten bowl of noodles. He suddenly feels a sense of guilt - had he been talking too much, was Soohyun not enjoying himself, did Soohyun not like noodles? He wipes his nose in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry to suddenly invite you out like this.” The thin sheen of liquid and bright restaurant lights reflect his discomfort back at him on the bowl. Soohyun, probably out of the good of his heart, begins eating his noodles.
“It’s not a problem,” the older boy shrugs. “I’m having a good time.”
He can feel the smile spreading across his face. “Really?” His fingers drum on the table and he likes the harsh way the plastic carries his nails. “I was actually, um. I was actually hoping you could do me a favor.” His heart ends up in his stomach after he swallows, the beating threatening to cause indigestion.
Soohyun echoes his words, more engrossed in his food than at Junho. “Could you practice singing with me? You know, after official training?” he presses on, determined, fingers still tapping the table absentmindedly to prevent them from shaking too noticeably. The older boy’s gaze goes back down to his bowl, as if he’s grappling with the decision and what it means for him. He laughs nervously. “I understand if you can’t. I just…I don’t know, I want to get better. Everyone keeps telling me that it’s a big deal I even got this far, but then I see trainees like you and Jokwon and I wonder why I’m here at all. I can sing, but I’m not the best. I can dance, but I’m not the best.” He leaves out the part in which he admires Soohyun and wants to get closer to him because he’s so wonderful, so talented, so…Soohyun.
“You have your own talents, Junho, trust me,” Soohyun finally says after a moment or so of silence. It tugs the corner of Junho’s lips up. Soohyun sighs before agreeing, and it sends, no lie, those tell-tale electric tingles through his nerves in complete and utter happiness.
There’s some point, he remembers hearing once, when admiration becomes love. He walks home after another late night practice session wasted laughing at each other’s mistakes and another dinner at the noodle stand, heart and eyes full. Of what exactly, he’s not sure. Soohyun is extremely talented - earthy voice, fluid dance moves - and funny and charming.
The tar of midnight bleeds into the room through his window. The ceiling turns hazy, a mix of the off-white color and the purplish-black creating some kind of shadowy palette. He stares, stares, stares, mind still fuzzy from Soohyun’s laugh, eyes still cloudy from Soohyun’s smile.
So: does he love him? And: would he be ok with that?
Would anyone?
Soohyun’s finishes the song again - one of the songs they always sing, it just sounds so much better when Soohyun sings it. Junho opens his mouth to say so but catches himself. “I think I’m improving,” he substitutes instead.
He can feel Soohyun’s glance on him as he agrees. “You definitely are.” His eyes trace the lines where the walls meet the ceiling.
“To be honest, I was worried that I wouldn’t. Then I really would have been a failure.” Soohyun moves to protest, but Junho continues, not meeting his glance. “No, really. I thought, if I don’t even improve after hanging around him, there’s no hope for me.”
The older boy frowns down at him. “You didn’t improve by hanging around me. It’s practice.”
Junho wants to laugh or smile because he just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand the longing, how much he has looked up to, how much he’s come to love -
He frowns instead. “That’s not how I think. I think that by being with you, I become a better person. You make me work harder, which makes me improve. All I’m doing is pathetically trying to catch up to you and somehow it’s working.”
Soohyun digests his words. He replies, Junho replies. They’re joking again - Soohyun hits him in the head and they start getting playful aggressive like usual, but not like usual, either.
It has never been this way, felt this way before, hanging out with Soohyun, and Junho finds it exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.
He leads them to one of the bigger closets down the hall, hands greedy, fingers twisting, lips on any piece of skin they can touch. This is nothing like the usual, this is not admiration, hardly love - just lust. They whisper to each other as they undress one another, shirts quickly discarded. He hesitates, is this ok, is he ok with this, is he ok with this, is this love? Junho’s never been big on romanticism but he’s suddenly paralyzed by it before Soohyun pulls him closer and he forgets it all. He feels hungry lips against his throat, so soft, so ticklish, insatiable.
His face turns bright red when he realizes Soohyun’s underneath him. “I don’t really know what to do,” he says helplessly. Soohyun laughs confidently and takes care of the rest.
“When you’re famous,” Junho swallows before they fall asleep. “And successful, would you write a song for me?”
Soohyun considers, his chest an easy cadence of rise and fall, rise and fall. He turns over to face him. “I don’t see why not.”
Does he love Soohyun? He wakes up in the morning terrified of what they did last night, the exhilaration all but a memory, a memory his mind is desecrating. He’s groggy when he gets dressed, Soohyun seems to be happy, as if what happened was perfectly normal, perfectly fine. He can feel his heart beating painfully, like an artery has been clogged, like he’ll die of a heart attack - how can that be so? They leave and he doesn’t know what to say, what to think, what to understand.
“I don’t like you, Junho,” Soohyun admits in broad daylight, people on the early morning streets and all. Everything. “I love you.”
He’s not sure what else to do but repeat what he’s know, what he understands, clean-cut and mechanical, void of all grey area and uncertainties. “Love is between a man and a woman, Soohyun.”
He breaks everything that has to do with Soohyun: the late night practices, the noodle stand dinners, the complaining about Jokwon, the walking home, that (whatever that was), and his heart, resigning himself to the possibility of meeting a nice girl with a nice smile in the future - something clean cut, expected, understood, accepted.
Sometimes he’ll see Soohyun and think maybe, maybe - but it never goes beyond that. Junho doesn’t know how to live a life like that, all secrecy and confusion, so he settles for second best: whoever else who will come to love him, but never as Soohyun did.
And when Soohyun becomes famous, fans and awards under his name, maybe Junho will turn on the radio and wonder if one of his songs is for him.
(fin)
The ashes scatter through an open window.
The fire still burns.
Title: re:
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/Focus: Soohyun/Hoon, Soohyun/Kiseop, Soohyun/Junho
Length: 6,067 words
Summary: we will destroy ourselves.
Warnings: suicidal thoughts
Notes: I am so honored to be able to remix this fic because I am a huge fan of it, as well as all your other writing ♥
Remixee author: qiguai
Title of work you remixed: a love song in four drafts
Link to work you remixed: http://qiguai.livejournal.com/32264.html
It’s absolute lunacy, Kevin tells him one day, someday when he, again, forgets to listen. What you’re doing to your life is absolute lunacy.
Kevin isn’t even one to give much advice, Soohyun remembers belatedly - thoughts slow, memories slower. Someone told his mother once, “Soohyun is a driven child. He gives one hundred ten percent into everything and goes for perfection at his own expense. To the point of madness, even.” One of his elementary school teachers, sometime after his father died. They never discussed the situation further.
He looks down at his papers, the pencils, the pens, the melodies that do not play the way he wants them to, the frustration. The spiral notebook he’s been pressing his left arm against leaves deep indentations against his skin - almost scar-like. Paper-cuts, blood-shot eyes - things felt but not seen. Maybe he doesn’t want to see them at all, humming and attempting and failing. Maybe he’s Thomas Edison, ninety-nine percent perspiration and ten thousand ways that don’t work.
Maybe, he thinks over a beer at three AM, paper and little black music notes burned into his vision, this is lunacy.
Chasing perfection is some kind of dangerous deal with the devil, some kind of risky second chance at a life you wanted to change. The ashes spill over an empty apartment floor - the remnants of years of maniac work ethic and lost happiness. He sleeps beside them, one thing on his mind, one dream in his thoughts - the perfect love song.
And so he begins to run.
(un)
The implied statement is that he wouldn’t have survived long as a solo singer, anyway. No one says so outright, no one would dare be so blatant and damaging, but Hoonmin feels it nonetheless. He doesn’t doubt it - how would he be able to stand out with so few promotions? - but sometimes a what if, what if I could have made it, what if I didn’t have to share a room, what if, what if, what if, intrudes into his mind. He simply smiles at his fellow members and lets it die off.
U-Kiss is a family, albeit a little awkward around him first (Eli). But they greet him with friendly smiles, give him advice (“The manager hates when someone does that.”), and treat him well, so Hoonmin considers himself lucky. He grows attached to each of them and accustomed to their personalities quickly: Kevin, good-natured with a tendency to cling onto people, Kiseop, nice to the point of being a pushover, AJ, withdrawn to his own thoughts at times and outgoing in others, Dongho, an utterly complicated teenager who seems beyond his years, Eli, slow to open up to new people, and Soohyun.
He’s not quite sure how to describe Soohyun.
Soohyun’s the kind of guy that everyone can’t help but love, with his talent, his manners, his charm and humor - everything. Hoonmin can’t remember when he begins looking up to him, he just does, and before he knows it, he catches himself watching the older boy constantly. Soohyun catches his glance a couple times, during break, during a car ride to a schedule, but just smiles and asks about his family and whether or not practice is too hard on him. Hoonmin likes Soohyun especially not because he understands what he’s feeling (that would be more AJ, but AJ has a completely different past when he thinks about it), but for trying to make it easier. For trying to lift a bit of the burden off his shoulders, everyone else’s shoulders too, and put it on his own back. Like Atlas, Hoonmin thinks one day, when he’s about to fall asleep in the van, Kiseop, Dongho, and Eli long lost to unconsciousness, Soohyun staring out the window. Hoonmin squints and Soohyun’s reflection in the window flickers, focuses. He thinks he sees blood-shot eyes and dark circles set on distance, ambition, determination. It makes him feel safe, as safe as he can feel in a business like this.
He wonders if Soohyun feels that way, too.
“I think I’m going to puke,” he thinks aloud, crowd of screaming fans waiting to meet them. There’s this incessant tapping noise against the table, and it’s really quite annoying, that he realizes is his own pen hitting the plastic top. Soohyun, who’s sitting next to him, gives him this deadpan look, but Hoonmin can tell that he really wants to laugh. He lets his own nervous fit of chuckles loose and grabs the older boy’s arm. To calm himself, he rationalizes, the fans screaming even louder. Nothing more than that. He lets go not long after, when they start letting the fans over.
Hoonmin manages to keep a smile plastered on his face even when he feels this nagging sense of trepidation - he’s never been especially good with people up close, let alone strangers, let alone excited strangers who want hugs (he hopes none of them have noticed how his arms shake when he gets them around their bodies). As time passes, he feels himself loosen up a bit and mentally pats himself on the back for not proving his earlier puke claim correct. He starts feeling a little euphoric, even - light-headed joy for all the fans that have come to support them.
As the meet ends, he looks over at Soohyun in one of his customary glances, expecting him to crack a joke about his nervousness, but finds his eyes cloudy and face pale, far from ambition and determination. “You okay?” he manages to ask as they’re waiting to board the van. The leader shrugs, “Just tired.” The other five members fill it up before they can get in. Hoonmin watches as it drives away, the manager calling another one, Soohyun staring vacantly, his breath visible in the cold air - no white puff large enough to be a sigh. He’s never seen him so - he can’t quite describe what the older boy seems to be feeling - upset? Empty? Distracted? He doesn’t react to Hoonmin’s concerned glances, though he is sure that Soohyun can see his head turning toward him in the corner of his vision.
He gets the idea - the kind he doesn’t get very often - of cheering Soohyun up by taking a break. Their manager objects initially (“you’re already getting only three hours of sleep each night. are you trying to ask for even less?”) but he begs a little bit and earns an eye roll and a nod. Soohyun tenses when he takes his arm, snapping him out of his thoughts. “What are you waiting for?” he smiles, walking toward the barrier the fans stand behind. “The manager just said we could take off.”
Soohyun echoes his statement with eyebrows creased before resisting Hoonmin’s lead. “What are you doing, hyung?” he frowns. The older boy pauses.
“Want to get a drink? I know a bar this way,” and they start walking the opposite direction. The glint in Soohyun’s eyes returns so Hoonmin just smiles to himself and goes along with it.
The rest of the night consists of a whirlwind of firsts, Hoonmin would like to think, if he could narrate his life into some romantic notion. Not that he had never gotten drunk before, just not like this - drink after drink, slurring a rant to Soohyun, leaving Soohyun to pay the bill, letting Soohyun dump him in a taxi and take them both to his place. When the world finally starts going clear again, he wakes up to the smell of Soohyun’s winter coats - things that have undoubtedly soaked up his scent in their three season neglect. He slurs out the obvious question, “Where are we?” still a little groggy and half-disoriented, his head and heart pounding painstakingly slow together.
Soohyun smiles, like he’s amused. “My house. I thought your family might be worried if I brought you back like this.” Hoonmin instinctively murmurs his agreement before tangling himself further into the sheets Soohyun set on top of him.
The thought suddenly hits him as he’s falling asleep again, the heaviness of his eyelids almost glazing over the details. It pushes them open, the dryness of his eyes hitting him then. Hoonmin glances over at Soohyun, the other boy drifting off into sleep with eyes just as blood-shot, pupils clear. He feels safe, unshakably, undoubtedly safe in Soohyun’s house, in Soohyun’s sheets, Soohyun just an arm’s length away. “Hey, hyung?”
“What’s up?” he answers immediately with a yawn. The alcohol is wearing away to the anxiety, the butterflies in his stomach, the shaking excitement. His heart beats, beats, beats, his head pounding as the rhythm quickens.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Yeah, once.” (beat, beat, beat)
“But not anymore?” Hoonmin feels his heart in his throat, beat, beat, beating. It flutters there, hummingbird wings, iridescent butterflies.
“That was a different time - a different world.” Blue shadows from the window catch on the contours of Soohyun’s face, eyes unreadable and black, facing the ceiling. He wants to see them, ambition and determination, safety.
He creeps over to Soohyun boldly muttering excuses of how he’s drunk, so drunk, really drunk - smile evident in his voice. Soohyun pulls him over but Hoonmin encases him in his arms first, kisses him first - sticky sweet and lingering alcoholic breath bitter, novice and messy but ultimately satisfying. Soohyun’s lips move in return, soft and maybe a little bruised, even - in the psychological sense, if that’s possible. These are not the first lips Hoonmin has ever kissed, neither are these Soohyun’s, but they feel aged and weathered nonetheless, like this is the new North Star he is resigning himself to.
This, Hoonmin believes, is when he starts wanting to be the one who makes Soohyun feel safe - as safe as they can be in this business.
Five years pass - five years of secret bliss and late-night escapades. They make-out in nooks and crannies where no one can find them, risk being found out when they can’t deny each other for a three hour long recording but ultimately, never are. Soohyun gives him these special smiles, or at least he’d like to label them as his (possession and all) - larger upturns of those beautiful, beautiful lips and full of teeth. Hoonmin finds himself staying over at Soohyun’s more often than not, and the older boy even moves to a slightly larger apartment (that Hoonmin saw the advertisement to) to accommodate both of them. Life goes well: successful singles, fame from more frequent promotional activities, the long-awaited awards. Everything is so perfect that Hoonmin is afraid he’ll wake up one day to find it all derailing and spiraling downwards. Instead, sometimes he glances at Soohyun and finds him staring vacantly, upset, empty, distracted, at who knows what for who knows why. When he shakes him out of his reverie, or even when he doesn’t, Soohyun just blinks, trying to focus his cloudy eyes, smiles and says his name.
Some days, he wonders if this is worse.
Things happen all at once. One day he realizes he’s not twenty-two anymore, the next, Soohyun leaves for the army. The members start pursuing their own careers, and he his - to finally have his chance to survive as a solo singer. Schedules and activities pile up, the world blurs, exciting yet monotonous without Soohyun there. They keep in touch through email and text, but it’s not the same - never the same as those warm arms around him, that steady heartbeat behind his back, those special smiles, the secret hand-holding. He tells him this sometimes, in the whispers they are so used to.
“I wrote a song for you,” he yawns into the receiver one day, their call lasting until midnight. Soohyun paused for a second before laughing. Hoonmin wonders if the fact is funny.
“I hope I’ll return the favor one day,” Soohyun replies, like his mind has been made up from the start. Like this is his fate, resigned and chained to it, some kind of romantic notion that Hoonmin tried not to fall into, but did anyway.
It’s Soohyun’s idea to do it. He comes out of the army and at the welcome back party, he just announces it to everyone. The straightforwardness makes Hoonmin blush, even after years of lingering glances and sweaty, probing hands. Dongho rolls his eyes (“took you long enough”), all their friends supportive, Soohyun’s mother fanning herself. He watches as Junho gives Soohyun an uneasy pat on the back, as Jo Kwon proposes they have a wedding, as Kiseop grows determined to see it through - bright yellow bow ties and all. Hoonmin laughs and never remembers feeling as happy as he does now, as he does when they make their vows, cheesy hotel ballroom, eight ushers, and best man all in on the secret.
They start working together again - music label, producing their own songs. They come out with their own album, a success, and Soohyun declares not long after that in the middle of brushing their teeth that he wants to write their song. He has Hoonmin help, days in their worn down pajamas and nights spent with the lights on, never sleeping before or long after dawn. They jot down melodies over and under one another, always some limb entangled with the other’s.
Six months later, they release the song and retire (“going out with a bang,” kevin laughed over the phone when he called to congratulate them), listening and singing along horribly when it plays on the radio. Hoonmin kisses Soohyun on the cheek as they celebrate their retirement with thickly-frosted cake and red wine, blowing out the candles together.
Soohyun tacks up the original draft of their song on the wall next to his desk. Soohyun stares at it, puts the track on loop, replays it until Hoonmin can’t stand hearing it even through the little whine of his headphones.
“Can’t you just accept our retirement?” he mumbles one night when Soohyun won’t come to bed. He merely laughs at himself in reply.
He grows obsessed, like he’s looking for something wrong in the sheets of music they spent months on. Like his mind had been made up from the start, like their entire relationship had existed for the sole purpose of this song. Hoonmin dismisses the thoughts as paranoia - it’s merely just a phase, he’ll come around soon. The appeasement continues for weeks, months, half a year.
He wakes up one morning to find Soohyun’s room empty. The original draft of their song is gone from the wall.
“Soohyun?” he calls, poking his head out into the hallway. The apartment echoes his words back to him. This is the emptiness, the staring vacantly, the upsetting, distracted loss of ambition and determination and safety.
This is his fate, resigned and chained to it, some kind of romantic notion that Hoonmin tried not to fall into, but did anyway.
The living room smells like ashes.
(deux)
If Kiseop’s being generous to himself, and he is often, he doesn’t want to set himself off again, he’d congratulate himself for making it this far. He’s a trainee, he has a (possible) spot in a group - the odds are good for him. But the malignant thought lingers sometimes: why am I still not good enough? He’ll watch the other boys practice and wonder how he can become like them - funny like Kibum, good at languages like Alexander, likeable like Kevin, good at rapping like Eli, youthful like Dongho, and talented at singing like Soohyun. Sometimes he forces himself to stop watching because it bruises the areas where the scars still fester.
He thinks of his mother instead.
Soohyun manages to find him one day, hanging upside down on a ballet bar - the blood rushing to his head intended to flush the doubts out (they only flooded back in when Soohyun barged in). Soohyun’s the nice hyung, maybe a little overbearing and eager to give advice at times, but Kiseop appreciates his efforts. He takes it upon himself to know and look after, and sometimes Kiseop wonders why he decides to shoulder that burden.
“At this rate they’ll never let you debut.” He’s smiling, so Kiseop knows he’s joking, but it cuts into him for some reason. He shrugs in response.
“Then I might as well enjoy myself, right?” Soohyun chews his lip in guilt at his response, making Kiseop regret it a little. His picking up Kiseop’s bag and declaring that practice is over clears it a bit, though.
They get coffee from the vending machine, a hand-held heater for the chilling autumn wind. It crosses Kiseop’s mind that he could make small-talk, about the weather, how cold it’s getting and how they’ll have to break out their December coats next week. Other thoughts push them under. It occurs to him that Soohyun isn’t talking either, so he withdraws back into his own thoughts.
“Do you think they’ll ever find a place for me?” Kiseop asks, intentionally difficult. He stares at the sky, the universe, and wonders when the snow will start falling. Snow, unlike the other variables in this world, he knew would always come.
Soohyun shifts, shoes slapping the sidewalk. He proceeds carefully, cautiously, processing the exact words. “I think that you’ve already found your place.”
It’s a bit trite, like he’s heard the saying before from a fortune cookie, but Kiseop smiles. Soohyun’s eyes linger on him and he lets them, lets them search his face, lets them process images that he can memorize. He looks away, abashed, when Kiseop speaks again.
“See you tomorrow, hyung,” he smiles, wondering and kind of knowing, in a sense, what Soohyun was looking for. The older boy waves and waits until he disappears into the building before shifting his feet again. Kiseop still sees him standing there when he looks down from his floor, as if he’s waiting at a train station, or for something that would be able to take him far, far away.
Soohyun seeks him out even more often than usual as U-Kiss’s comeback approaches, taking him out to lunch and dinner or just practicing late into the night. The attention makes Kiseop feel a little giddy, a little bit like a child again, knowing that Soohyun cares, in some way. He wonders sometimes if he has become the largest fraction of the burden the older boy puts upon himself but tries to shake away the guilt, since the doubts are closely associated with it.
He’s not sure whether it’s the fact that his singing is improving or if it’s Soohyun’s fussy attention on him, but either way, Kiseop starts feeling better about himself and more confident. The ballet bar ceases to be a frequent destination to purge the negative thoughts that swirl in his head.
Sometimes he catches Soohyun looking at him a certain way, half-affectionate, half-questioning. Kiseop can’t count his intuition as the truth, but he wouldn’t be able to deny Soohyun’s love, if it turned out to be his, that is.
It occurs all at once - one huge, hulking, glittering blur. They announce Kiseop’s entry into U-Kiss, the members congratulating him with claps on the back and hugs (Kevin). Soohyun smiles in the corner amidst the celebration, eyes a little uncertain, gaze a little questioning, all affectionate. Kiseop follows him out into the hallway and kisses the doubts away and considers himself Soohyun’s truth - the answer.
The members find out soon after (observant, Soohyun groans) when Kiseop can’t be sated for four hours on merely one quick peck in the bathroom. He’s never been subtle and why should he? He voices this to Soohyun after Kibum gives them a lecture that they largely ignored, smiles too big to take the words to heart.
“Because,” Soohyun starts after practice one day, when they’re walking out the back entrance with their limbs entwined. “Because they won’t like it.”
The words are ominous, foreboding. Kiseop doesn’t ask him to elaborate.
It starts out easy in their little circle of the company building. He starts sleeping over at Soohyun’s, making up the excuse that Soohyun’s place is closer to NHM than Kiseop’s, and their parents allow it. They’ll take little risks for the hell of it - a little peck behind the manager’s back there, feeling under each other’s shirts as they sleep side-by-side during the night here. They throw themselves into the comeback for the most part, only spoiling themselves with intimacy after dance practice, when they’re sticky with sweat and Dongho hisses whenever they cuddle.
“Do you think we’ll be able to stay like this?” Kiseop whispers one night, Soohyun’s hands tracing the sharp ridges of his shoulders. He realizes how many hypothetical questions he’s asked in the past week - too many what-ifs to count - and how many reassuring or realistic answers Soohyun has supplied him with - just as many. The hand stops above Kiseop’s heart and they just feel it beat, vibrating through the both of them.
“I hope so.” The answer is far from concrete, far from what he wanted to hear. He places his arms around Soohyun and takes this, instead, as the reply.
The answer is far from concrete, far from what he expected.
All hell breaks loose - Kiseop wonders what if, what if they didn’t need to be so physical? What if they could control themselves better, what if he could control himself better? If they took better care of themselves, if they were a little more cautious, if, if, if. They were making out, his lips on Soohyun’s throat, and the door opened. Comeback stage, he remembered as he registered the woman’s shocked expression, how she ran out of the room. U-Kiss’s comeback stage, he remembered after Soohyun did, a heavier burden replacing the previous load.
The hallway is empty when they finally compose themselves and walk out of the room. “Maybe she didn’t tell,” he whispers, Soohyun nodding like he wants to believe it, his eyes giving away the lost hopes. Kiseop, hypothetical situations, false hope, the one who was kissing him. He longs for the ballet bar.
The members don’t seem to notice anything strange when they come back. Eli nudges them teasingly and Kibum rolls his eyes. The stylist fixes his hair and he wonders if she can see him trembling when she does so.
When they walk down the hallway to their recording, the staff stares at them suspiciously, a murmur of whispers passing between them behind clipboards. Kiseop swallows as he watches the woman that walked in on them point at Soohyun as he passes.
He feels fortunate that he had no major parts in the performance and congratulates himself for making it through the stage without any colossal mistakes, a generosity that temporarily calms his nerves and prevents him from being set off.
Kiseop decides he hates the idol world.
The articles start surfacing just weeks later, picking up momentum and accuracy as time goes on. Things unfold, go back to how they used to be, almost. He lies on his own bed, eyes to the ceiling, his apartment’s ceiling with the strange water stain, not Soohyun’s popcorn one. The notifications are continuous at first - new reports, new texts, new calls, contact this, contact that, contact that he doesn’t want to respond to. He can’t see Soohyun, tell him he’s sorry, ask him why, why he decided to shoulder such a burden. When he gets around to replying to the messages, most of them Soohyun’s, some of them the other members’, frustration hidden behind encouraging smiley faces and hearts, he responds with hypothetical hope - the kind that ruined them, no, him, in the first place.
What’s left for me? he asks the sky, the universe, one day, mouth too tired to form the words. There is no trite, fortune cookie saying, just his family arguing, the manager relaying messages, notifications beeping on his phone, and the absence, a gaping hole, of Soohyun by his side, the answers and reassurance that shouldered a bit of his burden but couldn’t help it from crashing down upon him once more.
He longs for the ballet bar.
A month or so after the outbreak, the manager comes with the ultimatum: the press conference to tell the public that they are not gay, nor in love. He’s told Soohyun has agreed to it. He gets the text later that night - I know it’s a lie, but this may be our only shot at saving U-Kiss. It won’t mean anything, right?
It won’t mean anything. But everything. Kiseop closes his eyes, mind inundated with thoughts and doubts. Would I take all that back? Soohyun, half-questioning, half-affectionate, secret kisses there, sleeping next to each other here? Whose fault was it, really? His, Soohyun’s, the woman’s?
No answer is concrete. Soohyun is not there either, no stability to wrap his arms around, to call his own. He hates, hates the idol world, hates how easy it once was, hates this outcome, himself, the fact that he ruined something for so many people, people who were happy when he first joined them.
He agrees to the press conference.
Kiseop stops being so generous to himself.
It happens slowly, painlessly, all for the better. The last thing he remembers is Soohyun’s frozen fingers tracing the space between his ribs as they slept side by side.
“I’m going to write you a song someday,” he whispered, sending chills up Kiseop’s spine. He thinks he smiled widely at that, hand grasping Soohyun’s free one under the sheets.
Kiseop hopes, hypothetically, that Soohyun will still find it inside of him to do so.
He never took his December coat off its hanger that year.
(trois)
Junho’s never believed himself to be exceptionally talented - good enough, maybe, enough to get the vocal and dancing teachers off his back, but not enough for the real thing, debuting. Some of the trainees are stars that need some polishing; it’s obvious that they’re destined for success in the idol world. So what becomes of those like him - so stuck in mediocrity and the in between? Do they merely gravitate toward the best and make them look better? He’s no Jokwon, Changmin, or -
Soohyun.
It’s weird, Junho thinks, but ever since he first met Soohyun, he’s liked him. Soohyun’s one of those people - friendly, talented, funny - that no one can hate. Sometimes he’s a tad envious, talent all dulcet tones and powerful dancing while Junho tries not to flounder, but all-in-all, he’s certain that it’s quite impossible to slander Soohyun (possibly because he’s friends with jokwon, but still).
They hang around different circles - Junho with Taecyeon and Jaebum and Soohyun with Jokwon - but Soohyun always smiles when they pass each other in the hallway, when they catch each other’s gazes during a lesson. It’s hard to tell what the older boy is thinking, and Junho wonders why he’d even dare jump to such conclusions when they aren’t even close, but sometimes, Soohyun reminds of an aged soul - someone who’s seen the weight of the world and carried it upon his shoulders, only to have it crush him underfoot.
They walk home together one day, shoes crushing slick snow, hands deep in the pockets of their coats. He gets to know Soohyun better through flustered questions (him) and thorough yet cryptic replies (Soohyun). When Junho finishes his interrogation (as Soohyun jokingly referred to it as), he fills the silent void with a discussion over the weather. Soohyun laughs at that, for some reason.
“You’re different, Junho,” Soohyun smiles, shaking his head, as if he’d done this before. He kicks a stray pile of snow and gets caught behind slightly. Junho feels the heat rising to his cheeks.
“What are you talking about?” he stammers in response, only making Soohyun laugh more. He gives in and laughs, too, until they don’t really remember what they’re laughing about (“your face,” soohyun teases) anymore.
The next day, when Jaebum and Taecyeon start speaking English again, Junho wonders why he couldn’t have befriended Soohyun first.
Jokwon screams his name and points at him the next time he and Soohyun see Junho in the hallway. He jogs over to assess the damage, but he merely walks away, leaving Soohyun and Junho to themselves.
“Don’t mind him. We’re having marital problems,” Soohyun jokes to his confused expression, earning an even more confused response. He processes the words slowly before laughing awkwardly and wringing his hands out nervously.
“Do you have time after practice?” he finally manages to spit out after an embarrassing show of tumbling his tongue over the words. Soohyun blinks and Junho feels his hope falter.
He nods instead. “Sure, why?”
He swallows, nervous knots and heart beating like a heart attack finding their way to his stomach. “Mind if we grab dinner?” Soohyun courteously agrees (it was out of courtesy, he’d like to think) before Junho runs off.
They’ve never really talked one-on-one, face-to-face, the whole ordeal, over a meal or an amount of time that Jokwon deemed acceptable. Soohyun starts the conversation mostly, but over halfway through his food, Junho manages to begin ranting about lessons and teachers and gush about how amazing Soohyun and Jokwon are at singing. He vaguely realizes that he’s growing more animated and excited, heat rushing to his cheeks, chopsticks waving around.
“You seem to have a lot on your mind,” Soohyun replies to his outflow of words, poking at his uneaten bowl of noodles. He suddenly feels a sense of guilt - had he been talking too much, was Soohyun not enjoying himself, did Soohyun not like noodles? He wipes his nose in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry to suddenly invite you out like this.” The thin sheen of liquid and bright restaurant lights reflect his discomfort back at him on the bowl. Soohyun, probably out of the good of his heart, begins eating his noodles.
“It’s not a problem,” the older boy shrugs. “I’m having a good time.”
He can feel the smile spreading across his face. “Really?” His fingers drum on the table and he likes the harsh way the plastic carries his nails. “I was actually, um. I was actually hoping you could do me a favor.” His heart ends up in his stomach after he swallows, the beating threatening to cause indigestion.
Soohyun echoes his words, more engrossed in his food than at Junho. “Could you practice singing with me? You know, after official training?” he presses on, determined, fingers still tapping the table absentmindedly to prevent them from shaking too noticeably. The older boy’s gaze goes back down to his bowl, as if he’s grappling with the decision and what it means for him. He laughs nervously. “I understand if you can’t. I just…I don’t know, I want to get better. Everyone keeps telling me that it’s a big deal I even got this far, but then I see trainees like you and Jokwon and I wonder why I’m here at all. I can sing, but I’m not the best. I can dance, but I’m not the best.” He leaves out the part in which he admires Soohyun and wants to get closer to him because he’s so wonderful, so talented, so…Soohyun.
“You have your own talents, Junho, trust me,” Soohyun finally says after a moment or so of silence. It tugs the corner of Junho’s lips up. Soohyun sighs before agreeing, and it sends, no lie, those tell-tale electric tingles through his nerves in complete and utter happiness.
There’s some point, he remembers hearing once, when admiration becomes love. He walks home after another late night practice session wasted laughing at each other’s mistakes and another dinner at the noodle stand, heart and eyes full. Of what exactly, he’s not sure. Soohyun is extremely talented - earthy voice, fluid dance moves - and funny and charming.
The tar of midnight bleeds into the room through his window. The ceiling turns hazy, a mix of the off-white color and the purplish-black creating some kind of shadowy palette. He stares, stares, stares, mind still fuzzy from Soohyun’s laugh, eyes still cloudy from Soohyun’s smile.
So: does he love him? And: would he be ok with that?
Would anyone?
Soohyun’s finishes the song again - one of the songs they always sing, it just sounds so much better when Soohyun sings it. Junho opens his mouth to say so but catches himself. “I think I’m improving,” he substitutes instead.
He can feel Soohyun’s glance on him as he agrees. “You definitely are.” His eyes trace the lines where the walls meet the ceiling.
“To be honest, I was worried that I wouldn’t. Then I really would have been a failure.” Soohyun moves to protest, but Junho continues, not meeting his glance. “No, really. I thought, if I don’t even improve after hanging around him, there’s no hope for me.”
The older boy frowns down at him. “You didn’t improve by hanging around me. It’s practice.”
Junho wants to laugh or smile because he just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand the longing, how much he has looked up to, how much he’s come to love -
He frowns instead. “That’s not how I think. I think that by being with you, I become a better person. You make me work harder, which makes me improve. All I’m doing is pathetically trying to catch up to you and somehow it’s working.”
Soohyun digests his words. He replies, Junho replies. They’re joking again - Soohyun hits him in the head and they start getting playful aggressive like usual, but not like usual, either.
It has never been this way, felt this way before, hanging out with Soohyun, and Junho finds it exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.
He leads them to one of the bigger closets down the hall, hands greedy, fingers twisting, lips on any piece of skin they can touch. This is nothing like the usual, this is not admiration, hardly love - just lust. They whisper to each other as they undress one another, shirts quickly discarded. He hesitates, is this ok, is he ok with this, is he ok with this, is this love? Junho’s never been big on romanticism but he’s suddenly paralyzed by it before Soohyun pulls him closer and he forgets it all. He feels hungry lips against his throat, so soft, so ticklish, insatiable.
His face turns bright red when he realizes Soohyun’s underneath him. “I don’t really know what to do,” he says helplessly. Soohyun laughs confidently and takes care of the rest.
“When you’re famous,” Junho swallows before they fall asleep. “And successful, would you write a song for me?”
Soohyun considers, his chest an easy cadence of rise and fall, rise and fall. He turns over to face him. “I don’t see why not.”
Does he love Soohyun? He wakes up in the morning terrified of what they did last night, the exhilaration all but a memory, a memory his mind is desecrating. He’s groggy when he gets dressed, Soohyun seems to be happy, as if what happened was perfectly normal, perfectly fine. He can feel his heart beating painfully, like an artery has been clogged, like he’ll die of a heart attack - how can that be so? They leave and he doesn’t know what to say, what to think, what to understand.
“I don’t like you, Junho,” Soohyun admits in broad daylight, people on the early morning streets and all. Everything. “I love you.”
He’s not sure what else to do but repeat what he’s know, what he understands, clean-cut and mechanical, void of all grey area and uncertainties. “Love is between a man and a woman, Soohyun.”
He breaks everything that has to do with Soohyun: the late night practices, the noodle stand dinners, the complaining about Jokwon, the walking home, that (whatever that was), and his heart, resigning himself to the possibility of meeting a nice girl with a nice smile in the future - something clean cut, expected, understood, accepted.
Sometimes he’ll see Soohyun and think maybe, maybe - but it never goes beyond that. Junho doesn’t know how to live a life like that, all secrecy and confusion, so he settles for second best: whoever else who will come to love him, but never as Soohyun did.
And when Soohyun becomes famous, fans and awards under his name, maybe Junho will turn on the radio and wonder if one of his songs is for him.
(fin)
The ashes scatter through an open window.
The fire still burns.