Round 24: Sugar, We're Going Down 2/3
Once inside, Taecyeon crouched down a bit, and exhaled in relief. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and fixed his hair a bit. “Thanks, man,” Taecyeon said, “I owe you one.” But when he looked up, Jay had his arms crossed, and his mouth in a diagonal line across his face. That was his contemplating face. It did not look good on him. “Okay, what’s wrong?” Taecyeon asked.
“You are a really great actor,” Jay commented, but his voice sounded distant. Even though he was looking at Taecyeon, it seemed as if he was seeing right past him. He lifted his snapback, ran his fingers through his hair, and fit it back on again. And then hummed.
“Thanks...?” Taecyeon crossed his arms, too. He was confused.
Jay licked his lips and shifted on his feet, nodding to himself. “Okay, awright. I got it.”
Taecyeon craned his neck. “You got what?”
“It. I got it.” Jay’s lips formed a tight line. He nodded to himself again. “I ain’t even judgin’ ya. Okay? Ain’t even gonna do to that my homie.”
“What?” Taecyeon’s brows furrowed. “Jay, what are you talking about?”
Jay held out his hand, pursing his lips. “Like man to man. I’m gonna tell ya. No need to freak out and shit but like, there’s this method that works. If you need it. Not steppin’ on your life, no, not anything like that, aight?”
“F-Freak out? What?” Taecyeon asked again.
“It only works ‘tween bros, ‘kay? Like. Yeah, that’s it. Like. You just wanna find out if you’re into him, right? So all you gotta do-”
“Hold up, hold up. You mean like-”
“Yeah, like. If you wanna you know if you like him or not. Not like like but like like. Makes a difference, ya know. But hey, like I said, I know nothin’. ‘Cause I’m different. You’re different. S’all good.”
“Wait, who are we talking about?”
“Who the hell do you think we’re talkin’ ‘bout?” Jay asked.
“Um...” Taecyeon paused, lines visible on his forehead. “Chansung?”
“So, do you like him?”
“What!” Taecyeon exclaimed incredulously. “Jay, Jay, Jay, what the fu-”
Jay held onto his shoulders to calm him down. “Dude, dude chill. Okay, I know it’s gonna be hard but like, I can tell ya. Take it easy and like, it’s gonna be good. All good. So good.” Then Jay snickered to himself and Taecyeon felt like someone lit him on fire.
“Jay,” Taecyeon said, shaking his head. He tried to move further away. “Jay, I don’t really get what you’re trying to say. This is-”
“Aight, that’s fine. I can tell you ‘bout this method, then. I learned it from my friend, Ryan, when we were filming this video or some shit six years ago,” Jay explained and he noticed Taecyeon’s confused beyond heck expression. “Ryan Higa,” Jay elaborated. Taecyeon nodded slowly. “‘Cept, I’m modifying it ‘cause it’s for bromance shit but I’m tellin’ ya, it’s hella... somethin’ else. For reals.”
“Oh... kay,” Taecyeon said, deciding to just go along with it.
“Good. So like. You ever felt your hair gettin’ touched and stroked?” Jay asked, engrossed with his explanation. Taecyeon just put on his what the fuck face. He had no idea who the fuck Jay was anymore. But Jay kept going, unfazed. “‘Kay, ‘cause I have. It feels all tingly and shit. Good, right? Right. So. Here comes the best part. If you like that the person likes getting tingles- I mean that face, you like their face when you touch their hair ‘cause they look like they’re on the verge of orgasm-”
“Jay-”
“And you like the softness of their hair, then that is fucking it, man. That’s the fucking enlightenment. But here’s the key thing: the softness has to be like eyebrow hair. I ain’t even kidding. Years ago, I didn’t believe this shit but now-”
“Jay, I don’t-”
“Eyebrow hair, man. Eye fucking brow.” Jay proceeded to demonstrate this by touching his own eyebrow. He shut his eyes and exhaled loudly and sultrily. “Ooh yeah. See. I love myself. ‘Cause this eyebrow feels like the fucking clouds from heaven, yeah. And that’s how you know it. Man to man. I bestow this god-amazing knowledge unto ya. Be free, young T-sizzle, because love is in the air, tonight. I mean it ain’t night yet, but close enough. Be free.” Jay spread out his arms and wriggled his fingers, like he was throwing pixie dust all over Taecyeon. He noticed that Taecyeon’s bow tie was wilting again, so he fixed that and gave a thumbs up. “And you’re lookin’ mighty fine. Now go chase that boy. I’m so proud of you, man. You’ve grown up so much,” Jay murmured in a high pitched voice, breathless. He sounded like he was about to cry. His eyes were teary and he shook his head in disbelief that his Taecyeon was just so grown up. But Taecyeon was nowhere near anything to emotionally ecstatic or crying tears of joy like Jay was. No, in fact, his blood was boiling with fiery rage.
Taecyeon gritted his teeth. “You’re playing me, aren’t you. You’re not even serious.”
Jay blinked, wiping his eyelashes as if he were still tearing up like a baby. But Taecyeon wasn’t buying it. Jay shoved a wet finger to Taecyeon’s face, showing that they were real tears, and still, Taecyeon was having none of that. Finally, Jay sensed that he’d lost and immediately his face fell. He snapped his fingers in disappointment. “Damn, you saw right through me.”
“You’re an asshole,” Taecyeon muttered, running his hand through his hair. He couldn’t help the exasperated laugh from falling out of his lips. “Why I let you do that to me, I don’t even...”
“Always was, always will be,” Jay said with a grin, clicking his tongue. “And I know you missed me most. That’ll never change. Now tell me what the fuck is ‘tween you and Chansung ‘cause you were blushing like a shit ton just now just by saying his name. I ain’t even knew you could blush. I mean you usually just act fucking weird. Like, ew, gross. Unless...” Jay leaned in close, looking at Taecyeon straight in the eye. Taecyeon didn’t budge an inch but he could tell just how much Jay wanted to provoke him. That was in Jay’s blood. A lopsided smirk covered Jay’s face, like he was analyzing Taecyeon’s every thought through a soul-piercing gaze like that. But Taecyeon’s complexion was almost expressionless, and he’d say it was pretty damn good, except for his lips which twitched a little so that his dimples emerged. Jay sniggered. “You ain’t sayin’ a thing!” he shouted with a loud laugh, leaning back and clapping boisterously.
“I’m not saying anything,” Taecyeon quipped, “because even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“True, but.” Jay sneered ear to ear. “I fucking know everything now,” he whisperered, with a maliciously delighted glint his eyes and then copied Taecyeon’s waggling eyebrow gimmick.
Taecyeon took a step forward, clenching his fists. “I’m gonna sock you in the nose now.”
“Sure, yeah. You do that. But see,” Jay said, nudging at Taecyeon’s dimples with a finger, “You can’t even keep a straight face.”
A door slammed close from further inside the house, interrupting Taecyeon’s thoughts on wanting to pummel Jay into pulp. Jay and Taecyeon turned and saw Junho carrying a bowl with mixed fruit with one hand. Sunglasses still covered Junho’s eyes so it was difficult to see his expression and Junho made it a point to walk briskly through the room. But he didn’t forget to recognize that Jay was there. If Junho was explosively upset, he didn’t show it, so Taecyeon figured Junho had known that Jay was coming to the birthday party. Or maybe Junho was keeping it inside; still, in the end, Taecyeon didn’t want to know.
“Hey, Jaebeom hyung,” Junho greeted, but his voice was nearly emotionless.
“Junho,” Jay said with a nod of acknowledgement and gave Junho a side hug. Taecyeon was surprised Junho returned it, with his free arm. Jay whispered something in Junho’s ear that made him smile, something that Taecyeon could not catch, and Junho lingered long enough for Jay to snatch a piece of cantaloupe and stuff it into his mouth. They parted. Junho waved a little, nodding and then he went to the sliding doors and exited out onto the patio. Taecyeon could see Chansung approaching Junho with a plate of pizza and samgyupsal and Chansung’s eyes flickered past Junho and inside the house. Though it was dark inside where Taecyeon was standing, Taecyeon knew Chansung was looking for his silhouette. He made a mistake. He had let his eyes linger on the patio door a little too long and Chansung’s eyes caught his, and Taecyeon felt something bubble and burn in his chest. His cheeks warmed like roses in hot water, though he was glad the darkness hid it from Jay and more importantly, Chansung. Everything was fine. Sometimes flashes of heat would come and go when Taecyeon remembered he was still in the suffocating pink shirt. Obviously it was because of that, not because of Chansung. Definitely not. He tugged at his collar again and turned to Jay again, who had been staring intently at Taecyeon the whole time.
“So... what’d you say to Junho?” Taecyeon asked, tapping his fingers impatiently on the side of his arm. Jay folded his arms across his chest.
“Oh, aren’t you so curious?” he asked with biting sarcasm.
Taecyeon shut his eyes, trying to keep his composure. He opened them again, to find Jay smiling at him. Now he was boiling again. “Well yeah, you made him smile. Why didn’t you touch his eyebrow while you were at it?”
Jay scoffed. “You jealous? Are you suddenly into Junho? I thought you were into someone else. I thought you had Chansung. I twot, I taw a puddy tat,” Jay said in a nasally tone, imitating Tweety bird. The fuse was blown.
“I’m not!” Taecyeon yelled. The glass on the patio doors seemed to shake from his bellowing voice.
“To which of those questions and statements are you answerin’ ‘cause...” Jay raised a hand and pretended to count the things he had said, thrown in Taecyeon’s face. Taecyeon’s fists tightened even more.
“All of them!”
Jay smirked. “Great. Now lemme bring Chansung in and you can tell him straight in the face about how much you don’t like his eyebrows and how you don’t like him at all in that way, you’re only just best friends.” Jay turned to leave but Taecyeon grabbed his shoulders and hauled him back.
“You can’t,” Taecyeon said in a panicky tone.
“Why not?” Jay asked, squinting at him. He looked like he was about to smirk again. Taecyeon swallowed thickly.
“Because... I do like someone,” he confessed tentatively. His voice had been reduced to a near whisper. Taecyeon twiddled his thumbs around and around and he stared at that motion instead of Jay’s face because of the lulling feeling it came from staring at the blur. He felt as though he was teetering at his window sill again, just like that night. But that night, Chansung had grabbed ahold of him and- no. No.
“Uhuuuh,” Jay answered, nodding slowly. He waved his hands in front of Taecyeon’s face, trying wake him out of his trance. Taecyeon blinked.
“I just don’t wanna talk about it...”
“Mhmmm...”
“Until she’s ready.”
“Oh,” Jay said, nodding. He brushed Taecyeon’s hand off of him, making his way out to the patio again. Taecyeon was stunned into silence with the way Jay had reacted. Like it was nothing. Like nothing had happened. But just at the entrance, Jay paused, scratching over the tattooed stars on his neck. “I won’t tell anyone ‘bout it, Taec. Jus’- make sure you’re careful.” He opened his mouth to say more but shook his head against it. And then he did it again, while adjusting the chain around his neck. “And hey, it kinda hurts when you cheat though. When you cheat on someone’s feelings and you play around with ‘em. You push ‘em away and then you go chasin’ ‘em again like you can’t breathe without ‘em. But you look like y’know what you’re doin’. So I ain’t worried. I mean, I ain’t even gonna worry if it was actually an issue. But it’s not, right? ‘Cause you’d never lie to me, nah.” Jay nodded to himself once more. “Not like this, you wouldn’t lie to me or to yourself knowing that you’re gonna enlist soon. ‘Cause that would be fucked up. But I ain’t worried.” Jay’s jaw went stiff but he rolled his shoulders. He gave one more look at Taecyeon, before stepping out into the patio and sliding the door close.
Jay came back to the door moments later and slid it open just an inch, so his mouth could fit in. “By the way, Minjun actually had nothin’ to announce, it was just my cue to walk in. Secondly, I told Junho I’d beat your ass ‘cause he missed that part while arguin’ with Chansung inside. Thirdly, I’d say you just got served. So. In ya fuckin’ face.” Jay stuck out his tongue, moved away and slammed the door shut.
There was no “she.” And served he was because the ache in his chest resurfaced again.
*
A few days before, Taecyeon was lying in bed, staring at the golden morning sunlight stripe his skin like a celestial zebra. His dreams that night were hot and wet and he had slid out of his shirt without being conscious of it. All that lingered in his mind when he woke up was the cricket chirping from outside (which didn’t make sense because it was only January so that may have been a part of his dream; but it felt so oddly real). And of course, the source of the heat clung onto the walls of his mind, with the dripping drops of sweat that slid down his skin and he frantically tried to wipe them away. The source of the heat was a blurry figure of milk skin and Taecyeon could mouth the name of that figure even if a bowling ball was jammed in between his jaws. He wanted to flinch out of embarrassment and stuff his face with pillow to suffocate the blush creeping in but he refused to budge. Maybe he could outstand this. He stayed frigid in bed, unwilling to move a muscle. He could freeze himself and empty out his mind. If Taecyeon could master this, then he could face Chansung without feeling like he was tossed around in the wind. Or maybe, all he had to do was recite a poem, like Hyun Bin in Secret Garden did. Taecyeon smiled, remembering watching the drama over six years ago. He’d admit any day he was watching it for Ha Ji Won since she was definitely in her prime those days and any guy like him would fantasize with wanting to be on screen with her. In fact, Chansung had said that Taecyeon would look good with Ha Ji Won-
Taecyeon had watched that drama with Chansung, he remembered. His mind spiraled and looped ways that made him dizzy. Chansung had watched dramas with Taecyeon often so they had spent so much time watching things together back in the dorm. Even when they weren’t living together anymore, Chansung would frequent to Taecyeon’s house and they’d eat dinner while watching the new episode air on tv. Out of all the members, Chansung was the one who dedicated himself to watching Taecyeon in dramas, especially. Taecyeon remembered when Chansung visited him on the site of Who Are You. Later on, Chansung would visit again during Wonderful Days, the longer family drama that spanned for fifty episodes. All the filming had gone by like a blur, but Chansung’s presence stayed. Chansung’s lofty steps across the set stayed in his mind, too, how Chansung’s eyes reflected all the shimmery set pieces that glowed in the sunlight and all the color flashing from the lights and everyone’s clothes bustling back and forth. Chansung’s awe stayed with him. When Chansung looped his arm and looking into Taecyeon’s phone for a selca, Taecyeon could see how Chansung radiated and that clung onto his dimples and butterflies filled his stomach.
Jay would laugh at him like a monkey, he was sure of it. In fact, he’d laugh, too, if it weren’t for the doorbell interrupting his thoughts. He rose out of his bed mechanically and glanced at the clock. It was almost seven AM. That was unusually early of him to wake up but he should be more concerned that there was someone at the door at this time.
His boxer shorts rode up on his thighs so he tugged that down. He scratched the stubble along his jawline and down his neck as he unlocked the door. The sunlight blinded his eyes and he smacked his lips with a grumble. Oh, no. Taecyeon spun around quickly, using his foot to slam the door shut but he heard footsteps following behind him. They were light and floaty as usual and Taecyeon’s heart raced in his ribcage. He wanted to get back to his refuge. He could save himself by locking the door of his bedroom and then Chansung couldn’t possibly get in. He could do that, but when he picked up his sheets and pillows off the floor and leapt into bed, it seemed quite impossible. Chansung was his friend, nothing more than that, and definitely not an enemy. Why he was treating Chansung like a monster? Taecyeon muffled his exasperated sigh by face-planting into a pillow. What kind of conflicted feeling was this?
It was eerily silent. Taecyeon had expected Chansung to start babbling about something, explaining why he needed to bother Taecyeon at this time of the morning. Usually, Chansung would apologize. Maybe Chansung might notice that Taecyeon was really “busy” and leave. Taecyeon’s chest tightened. He listened carefully. He heard footsteps approaching the bed and then silence once again. What was Chansung doing? Taecyeon felt the unease enter his veins, ready to break out into cold sweat. He couldn’t keep frozen, some parts of the blanket was tickling his skin and his stiff joints cried out in discomfort. He used to be young and levelled. Now he was a blithering idiot, hoping Chansung would leave him alone because his heart was tap dancing and he felt like he had a steel rod up his ass. Breathe, he told himself. Count sheep. No, he hated sheep. He remembered the time he had to film We Got Married (Global) with Gui Gui and their wedding photoshoot was staged with sheep. At least Chansung hadn’t visited that set but when the others did, it didn’t feel right. Goddamnit.
Maybe instead of focusing his own shrivelled up, panicking lungs, he could listen for Chansung’s breathing. But he couldn’t hear anything. Oh, maybe Chansung did finally leave-
The bed creaked. At first, Taecyeon want to fly out of his bed and make a run for it but now that Chansung’s weight was on the mattress, he couldn’t get himself to do it. Now he was frozen for the wrong reason. He groaned silently to himself. He tried to ignore the fact that he felt lightheaded and dizzy, or the soft hum from Chansung’s lips that hovered just over his back. Taecyeon couldn’t tell what the tune was but he felt dazed. Warm. He felt himself melt into his mattress and suddenly all the tickling pillows and sheets around him felt like a gentle cradle. Calming darkness lifted him away from the discomfort and instead replaced it with dizzying heat. It was a good type of dizzy. Even when the bed creaked again, and Taecyeon could hear the shuffling movements onto his bed, he felt himself slipping out from under. Chansung’s weight was close enough to him that the mattress dipped near his hips and he should’ve felt panicky but, he felt like a puddle. One time, he put a stick of butter into the microwave while watching Chansung stir a bowl of dough with such focused intent that when the butter came out, it was a gooey puddle inside the platter. And when Chansung took the platter out of his hands, Taecyeon stared with fascination as the butter slid and dripped into the bowl, warm and slow. The butter landed onto the dough and Chansung took the spoon and stirred it with that slow pace that defeated time’s meaning and Taecyeon felt dazzled by the motions, staring at the circles, at the butter sinking into the dough and slicking it up with an oily shine. He felt like he was in that dough, getting all stirred up. That was how Taecyeon was feeling. Like melted butter.
He felt himself float away while the bed shook and now Taecyeon could feel heat hugging around his waist. He knew this. It was normal when Chansung would massage Taecyeon’s back and Chansung’s thighs would cradle his waist, sometimes digging at his hip bones. Maybe, Chansung was doing him a favor to give him a massage. That would definitely be nice. Okay, more than nice. That would be divine. So Taecyeon braced for it. He felt a hand run down his spine and he shivered at the warm trailing touch. It wasn’t too warm to call it a fire, because other times Chansung had touched him, he felt like he was being eaten up in feverish flames but this- felt good. Chansung’s hand stopped in the curve of his lower back and rested there. So, Chansung was easing himself in. Okay. Taecyeon could take that. Except then, nothing happened there and Taecyeon let out a huff into the pillow, shifting himself a little. Wiggling and nudging against Chansung’s thighs to get a move on. Now, Chansung drew a finger across his spine, following every valley of his vertebrae bones. His finger would get caught and then he’d bring it up slowly, let it dip and get caught again. Taecyeon swallowed thickly and shifted himself again. Maybe this wasn’t-
Fuck. Something warm and wet traced a message on his lower back. Chansung’s finger. It happened again, the finger wet, retracing the previous letters. The warmth of the saliva immediately hit the air and went cold and Chansung hummed delightedly, into his finger, which Taecyeon could tell because it sounded muffled. In mid-hum, Taecyeon turned around, nearly throwing Chansung off of him with a startled yell. Taecyeon clasped onto Chansung’s wrist and hauled him down so they were chest to chest, nose to nose. Chansung was breathing hard, his doe eyes like a pair of full moons.
“Hyung,” Chansung breathed in shock.
“What are you doing to me?” Taecyeon growled. He couldn’t shake off sleepiness in his voice, it made his voice box rumble low and heated. Chansung visibly pinked on the cheeks.
“I... was writing-”
“What?” Taecyeon inched himself closer, piercing his gaze through Chansung’s barriers.
“I hate you,” Chansung murmured, looking away.
Taecyeon paused, the whirlwind of his thoughts halting abruptly and vanishing. The thumping of his heart noisily beat against the temples of his head like a throbbing headache. Usually, he’d make plans of getaway but for some reason, was drawing a blank. He should, but he couldn’t. The weight of Chansung on his chest and torso, their legs entangled and thighs touching and knees knocking and ankles grazing- all of that, he couldn’t handle. He felt like he was drowning again and yet, floating, and he found himself drawing Chansung’s chin toward him until their noses kissed. “Is that so? And you had to lick your finger and write it out like that? Just to tell me... how much you hate me? Is that really so?” Taecyeon voiced, in a low, playful undertone.
Chansung’s face went beet-red and Taecyeon let his knuckles brush against Chansung’s cheek, where he thought it turned even more scarlet than before. The skin was definitely flushed. Taecyeon took great pleasure in that, he had to bite down on his smile. Chansung squeaked, “It’s not like that.”
“Really?” Taecyeon propped himself up, resting on his elbows now. If Chansung hadn’t moved away, their lips could have collided. Taecyeon didn’t really want to think about that, but Chansung looked heated rosy pink and stunned like someone had bewitched him. Taecyeon, of course. Of course. Taecyeon’s lips curled with a greasy grin. “Really, Chansung-ah? Because I can offer you something else.”
“Hmm?” Chansung hummed incredulously. Taecyeon kept inching himself closer and Chansung wasn’t fighting it. Oh, good.
“I can,” Taecyeon whispered low and sultrily, “offer you something else to lick.” He let his tongue wet his smirking lips slowly, and he saw Chansung’s eyes follow it with interest. “And I’m sure you’ve been thinking about it. I’m sure you want it.”
“I don’t-” Chansung sputtered. Taecyeon pressed a thumb onto Chansung’s lips to shush him up, and he traced his thumb across Chansung’s lip. Chansung’s saliva slicked his thumb and Taecyeon contemplated on sucking on it to make Chansung go wild. He did. Chansung exhaled sharply. The gap was closing in. Now their breaths mingled in and Chansung shut his eyes, tilting his head the slightest bit forward. Taecyeon felt sanity spring loose and drip down his tongue, pooling inside mouth. He was thirsty. And this was bad. Very bad. But now he could hear Chansung’s breathing slow down as it ghosted over his lips and lit them on euphoric fire. He bit his lip. He could kiss Chansung right now. Or he could-
Laugh. Taecyeon jerked away with a loud laugh, pushing Chansung away from him as he got off the bed smoothly. His boxer shorts rode up his thighs again and he knew Chansung was staring at that, at the creases and folds of the fabric outlining his ass but he pretended not to care, putting all his effort in laughing as loud as he could, scream-laughing. He bent down and laughed until his throat itched and his chest felt like it was going to explode. “You don’t think so? You don’t think you want to lick anything else?” Taecyeon asked hysterically. “Yeah, because I didn’t think so either.” He stopped abruptly, his face went emotionless. “Because that would be messed up.”
Chansung looked so- wounded. “I never-” he halted, like he ran out of words to say. Because it was true. Chansung had thought about it before. The moment the epiphany had dawned on him, Taecyeon choked on himself and began to cough. Chansung immediately rose out of the bed but Taecyeon picked up a pillow from the floor and chucked it into Chansung’s face.
“I’m fine,” Taecyeon croaked. He left for the bathroom, refusing to look at Chansung’s watery eyes.
An hour and a shower later, Taecyeon emerged out of the bathroom in nothing but dripping hair and a towel around his waist. He peeked out of the door, scanning his room for Chansung. Nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a smaller towel from the rack to rub down his hair. Once he reached the mirror and set down the towel, he was ready to pick up the hair-dryer when he caught the reflection of Chansung staring at him. Damn it. Taecyeon’s shoulder slumped. “Yes, hi, what do you want?” he asked nonchalantly, masking the anxiety in his voice.
Chansung fiddled with his fingers, looking bashful. “I packed your bag. The flight’s in a couple of hours.”
Taecyeon turned, raising a brow. “Why would you do that?”
“Wooyoung paid for our tickets,” Chansung answered meekly.
“Wooyoung did that?” Taecyeon asked, like it was the most absurd idea in the world. But then he shrugged. “He’s planning Minjun’s party, of course.”
Chansung nodded slowly. “I packed your bag, you know...”
“Yes, I heard that the first...” Taecyeon trailed off and then glared at Chansung. “What did you pack, exactly?” There was that party smile that decorated Chansung’s complexion. Taecyeon pinched the bridge of his nose with a stuttering sigh, trying to ignore the fluttery sensation in his chest.
“I didn’t pack your thongs if you’re worried about-”
Taecyeon lunged after him. “No one told you to look at my stuff!” he shouted. But Chansung gleefully laughed and ran across the room, leaping over the bed and prancing toward the bedroom door. Taecyeon caught up to him just as Chansung had turned the knob. He pinned Chansung’s back toward the door with a dull thud, knocking the wind out of the maknae. They were both breathing heavily now, age creeping at their joints and bones. They weren’t so young anymore to chase after one another like they used to. Or throw each other’s bodies into furniture, only to get up and laugh at their bruises. Taecyeon placed a hand on Chansung’s chest and firmly pressed him against the door; his other hand, next to Chansung’s ear. He stared at Chansung, still trying to catch his breath, huffs of of warm air fluttering through Chansung’s fine dark hair and making the strands float before landing back down into the pillowful black that shined in the light. Or in moonlight, which Taecyeon thought Chansung’s hair looked best, like the night of New Year’s when Chansung had pressed him against the table filled with drinks. Taecyeon grinned lopsidedly. Now he had the upperhand, and took a step closer, until the drops of water from his hair and body were dripping on Chansung’s clothes.
Chansung looked unfazed. He blinked slowly though, as if taking in the sight before him. Taecyeon should have been bothered by that, by the undivided attention, but the lack of that feeling did make him worried. What was this turning into? Was it dangerous? Of course, it was dangerous. That shouldn’t have been a question in the first place. Chansung tried to remove Taecyeon’s hand from his chest, but Taecyeon wouldn’t budge. The appleblossom pink of Chansung’s lips scrunched up into a small smile. It made Taecyeon bite the inside of his mouth.
“What?” Taecyeon asked.
“You keep doing this to me,” Chansung replied, tilting his head to the side. Taecyeon gaped.
“Me? To you?” Taecyeon shook his head. “No no no. You’re the one who keeps doing this to me. I don’t know what you’re playing at.” Taecyeon meant every threatening word, but Chansung just laughed which made Taecyeon dizzy again. He felt like he was teetering once more, by the window sill.
“So we’re playing the blame game now?” Chansung asked.
“No such game, when clearly, you’re the one to blame.” Taecyeon leaned in, glaring at him. He had to bite on his lip from smiling, because Chansung’s terrorizing grin was hard to not mirror.
“Oh, how so, hyung? Enlighten me.”
“Do I have to say it for you to know? You really want me to?” Taecyeon asked, sneering. Chansung only shrugged casually like he could take what was coming. As if. Taecyeon clicked his tongue with confidence and rolled his shoulders with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows. “So, who was drunk on New Year’s and decided to taste my ear?”
“I’m sure the recipient enjoyed it though,” Chansung answered smugly. “And even offered to strip himself for me.”
Taecyeon’s face burned up in flames. “That’s-” he cleared his throat, “very untrue.”
“Ah, look, he seems to be in denial about a lot of things-”
Taecyeon slammed his palm next to Chansung’s ear, which made the maknae flinch and gasp. He drew himself close to Chansung. “So are you.” Silence hung in the air, the both of them marinating on their words, swishing it around in their mouths, swallowing it and letting it settle in the pit of their stomachs.
“You look so handsome up close,” Chansung said, his voice steady. So, Chansung opted for the detour, Taecyeon hissed inwardly. Always evading the issue at hand even though he was the one who had started it. But the caramel in Chansung’s eyes penetrated through Taecyeon’s gaze and he was seized with a ballooning, airy feeling. He felt naked- no, he was naked after all, with just that towel on his waist. God, this was dangerous. But Taecyeon didn’t miss a beat.
“So do you.”
Chansung smiled. “So what do we call this?”
Taecyeon hummed in contemplation. “I don’t like it when you ask too many questions.”
“Is it... something?” Chansung asked eagerly, stepping toward Taecyeon’s lips. “Can we call it something?”
“It doesn’t...” Taecyeon began but Chansung let his hand slide down Taecyeon’s arm, collecting the water droplets. It was warm against his damp skin.
Chansung hummed delightedly. “Remember in LA a couple years ago, you wore that pink shirt? You looked so good in that.” He let his fingers trace around Taecyeon’s collarbones. “You wore a black tie and...” Chansung outlined Taecyeon’s shoulders. “You wore a zebra cloak, which amazingly, looked good on you as well, you fashion terrorist.” Taecyeon felt a smile settle down on his lips. Chansung reached up and brushed away some wet strands of hair. “And you lightly gelled your hair up, so when the stage lights hit on you, all I could see what your forehead.”
“And my ears,” Taecyeon grinned.
Chansung giggled. “And yes, your ears.” He grazed a finger along the one he had licked on New Year’s, and Taecyeon shivered. Somewhere a thought drifted by and he felt like Chansung was too much. Chansung was dangerous. This whole thing was dangerous. But when Chansung was in front of him, all of Chansung was so irresistible. It could be something. But-
Taecyeon was back to square one. What was he doing? What were they doing? Time was ticking down as his enlistment drew nearer. And this was how he was spending his time? Taecyeon’s smile faltered and clutched onto Chansung’s wrists to stop him. “You don’t want me to smile or turn your words around. You want me to answer your question.”
Chansung nodded slowly. “But, it doesn’t have to be right now-”
“It does have to be right now,” Taecyeon cut him off sternly.
“Okay,” Chansung whispered solemnly.
Taecyeon took a deep breath. “You wanted to know if this could be something?” he leaned in, with the same close proximity as before, their personal bubbles invaded and skin clashing on each other. Taecyeon took a mental snapshot of Chansung’s babyface and the wonder that came with it, the parted rosy lips and the glittery eyes, blinking with fervent ardor. That made something crumple inside of him. Chansung was expectant of something that could never be. But Taecyeon kept feeding it to him, kept leaning in, skin on fabric. Chansung’s clothes were absorbing the water droplets from Taecyeon’s skin, or what was left of it, anyway. Taecyeon inhaled Chansung’s fragrance. Still that sweet vanilla. “Well, it doesn’t have to be anything. It shouldn’t be.” Punching words, delivered like a death sentence. He tried to shrug off the knife he drove into Chansung’s feelings, as he pushed himself away from Chansung using the door to give himself momentum. When Taecyeon had reached his mirror again to stare at his stupidly weak reflection of moppy damp hair, he heard the bedroom door slam shut. Disappointed footsteps echoed throughout the house and then the door to the driveway was thrown shut with a deafening bang.
If there was another way- no, there wasn’t. Not when he was attached to ropes by the joint and limb like a puppet, like a doll being thrown around. And none of it was significant, no matter how attractive that puppeteer was.
D-64
oh boy, you don’t know my heart - dangerous
It occurred to Taecyeon as he boarded the plane back to South Korea from LA that when Chansung wrote on his back, “I hate you,” in saliva, Chansung had been humming their song from the Grown album. Dangerous. They had never performed it live so Taecyeon couldn’t really remember it so well. It had only dawned on him when Chansung was humming to it again in the plane as Taecyeon put their bags into the compartments above them. It shouldn’t have bothered him but the lyrics, You’re so cute that I keep staring at you and something about looking like a doll, heart-racing and definitely time-wasting- it all seemed too much like deja vu.
It also occurred to Taecyeon that Chansung may have known that Jay was coming and the hint was behind the, “I hate you.” That was the title of their last few songs they sang together as seven before Jay had to leave. Taecyeon glanced at Chansung leaning against the plane window, and shuddered. So what if the maknae had a little bit of clairvoyance in him? Taecyeon wondered if Chansung could predict how destructive a life could be, naive to hopeless feelings.
But Chansung hadn’t said a word to Taecyeon since then, not even at Minjun’s party and Taecyeon guessed he preferred it that way. Less words, less trouble. But he kept thinking about Jay’s Seattle babble, as ridiculous as it sounded. What if- he let himself get played? Would it really hurt so much? He wondered if- oh, something interrupted his thoughts, the pooling warmth in his hand. Chansung had grasped onto his hand and intertwined their fingers together. Taecyeon stared at Chansung hard, as if wanting to shout, how dare you but Chansung was still in his own world, mouthing to lyrics, showering himself with the sunlight pouring through from the small ovalish window. Sunkissed eyelids and bubblegum pink lips called out to Taecyeon to treat the babyface like his maknae, and not a dangerous monster. Taecyeon scoffed at himself.
Once Chansung’s eyelids drooped to a close, Taecyeon reached over and shut the cover of the plane window close. As he did so, his face met with Chansung’s and instead of moving away, he stayed. What if... Taecyeon inhaled but refused to breathe out, afraid that the slightest sound would break the fragility of Chansung’s slumber. Strands of hair came over Chansung’s eyes and Taecyeon had to resist the urge to brush them away. His eyes fell onto Chansung’s mouth and he shook his head. He followed contours up the gentle curve of Chansung’s cheeks, and toward the deer-like arch of his eyelashes. Taecyeon could imagine Chansung’s brown eyes glittering back at him with fusing fireworks in the reflection. And then, he came to Chansung’s eyebrows and he stopped. His heart had risen up to his throat and was thrumming noisily. What if... Taecyeon raised his hand so slowly, afraid for the entire world. Afraid for himself. But he dared. The hammering beats of his heart weren’t encouraging but Chansung’s body heat invited him. Body heat was really light, infrared light, the nerd in Taecyeon corrected himself. Chansung was glowing.
What if this was really it? Taecyeon’s fingertip was a fraction of a hair away from touching Chansung’s eyebrow. He could hear Jay’s words echoing in his head, the softness has to be like eyebrow hair. And if it was really that soft, then maybe he did- maybe he could- it might be something- or maybe-
He heard rapid footsteps down the aisle beside him and he panicked. No, but he had to try it once. He had to. Taecyeon came this far, he couldn’t just back down now.
“Sir, would you like a drink?” the stewardess’ voice came from behind him. Taecyeon swallowed. He stared at Chansung, deliberating. It could be this, it could be now or it could be that or- That was when he noticed Chansung’s eyebrows were furrowed, and decisively, he gently pressed his fingers in between, until Chansung’s face relaxed from whatever nightmare he was having.
Taecyeon turned to the stewardess. “Yes, some water would be fine for me and Chansung-ah.” The stewardess looked stunned but shook herself out of it with a secretive smile. She gave him two full cups and went on her way.
Taecyeon downed the first cup and exhaled loudly. Then he clamped his mouth shut immediately, glancing at Chansung, afraid that he had woken Chansung up. But Chansung was still asleep, his head still against the window. Taecyeon grabbed the second cup and swallowed that whole, figuring Chansung might not wake up until their next stop at least.
He had to wonder what Chansung was dreaming about for his eyebrows to furrow like that. Bah, more useless thoughts, he realized. He shrugged. But now Taecyeon will never know what Chansung’s eyebrows felt like. Or how soft they were. Or even verify if the eyebrow theory was even really true. Of course, Jay must’ve been cackling like a hyena somewhere and Taecyeon grimaced. It was so stupid. But then again, the curiosity was still there and burning bright and though he knew it was not the same, Taecyeon traced a finger over his own eyebrow. Okay, now he felt certain that he was the stupidest fool, but he did it again, not particularly impressed with the softness at all. And then curiously, he traced his fingers along his ear, wondering what Chansung was feeling when he licked it and then later grazed his fingertips along it. Taecyeon smiled stupidly at himself.
By the end of the flight, Taecyeon had slipped his hand out from Chansung’s and unbraided their fingers.
D-61
agree to disagree on red velvet cake - the vow
Chansung was slicing practice cake number two and daintily placing it onto a small platter. “Let’s try this,” he said cheerfully, shaking his head with playfulness.
Taecyeon stared at him blankly, trying to digest Chansung’s words. As the spoon in Chansung’s hand neared Taecyeon’s mouth, Taecyeon shook his head. Chansung paused. “Come on, hyung, let’s try this out.” He nudged Taecyeon’s lips with the spoon, painting cream while doing so. Taecyeon sighed and gave in, engulfing the soft cake and letting it sit on tongue. Letting it melt. Letting it mask the sinking feeling he had. “So, what does it taste like?”
“Good,” Taecyeon said, licking the cream off his lips. Chansung’s eyes seemed to glitter.
“You know what, Taekinie hyung?” Chansung asked softly. Taecyeon felt his throat burn. He couldn’t run away, he was stuck frozen in his spot like Chansung had him under his thumb. “It means the world to me when you try something for me, I-”
“On second thought, it tasted bad,” Taecyeon interrupted. He took the spoon out of Chansung’s hand and scooped another spoonful of cake quickly into his mouth. Chewed. And swallowed. “Definitely bad.”
Chansung glanced at the cake, his face discolored. “Maybe we should start all over again.”
“I don’t think we should do that.”
“Why not?” Chansung asked. “Junho wants cake for his birthday, we should-”
“We can’t try this out if it’s not going to work.”
“I’m sure if we just tried it again, we could get it right. It’s a shame we have to throw this away-”
“No, we can’t do it. I’m trying and it’s not working. Don’t you see it? This is me trying.”
Chansung looked taken aback. “What... are you talking about?”
Taecyeon scoffed. “You don’t believe me. But it’s true. I’m trying-” Chansung shook his head in confusion, stepping backward. Taecyeon grasped onto his arms. “Yes I am! I’m trying to-” Taecyeon’s fingers began to slip. “But, you’re not making anything clear and I don’t know what to do- What are we doing? I can’t... I don’t know how to adjust to your... to you. So we can’t- try this out. I mean I tried. I tried to understand but it’s so-”
“Hyung, what-”
“I thought we were talking about- us?”
“What?” Chansung stepped in close, dancing pupils locked onto Taecyeon’s gaze.
“Never mind.”
The plastic spoon clattered onto the ground and Taecyeon jumped out of his trance. Chansung was laughing and Wooyoung was clapping his hands against the counter, giggling. “What’s up with you? The cake that good to silence you speechless? ” Wooyoung asked Taecyeon, still unable to shake off the laugh. Chansung glanced at Taecyeon and did stop, reaching out to hold his shoulder.
“Hyung?” Chansung murmured. Taecyeon swallowed slowly, pushing Chansung’s hand off his shoulder.
“Uh, nothing’s up,” he cleared his throat.
Taecyeon grabbed the spoon from the floor and sped out of the kitchen. He heard Wooyoung guffaw after him and Chansung’s soft laugh following after. Something like ants rampaged inside of him and he felt like he was going to burst. He’d been feeling this lately, wanting to break and smash things smithereens because when he couldn’t breathe, he needed an outlet- so he snapped the plastic spoon in half. Taecyeon hurried back to the kitchen to grab his phone, having belatedly realized they were laughing at him for taking the wrong thing. He threw the pieces of the spoon onto the counter and that was when Wooyoung stopped abruptly. Chansung called after Taecyeon but he ignored him.
What was worse was when Taecyeon had holed himself up in his room for an hour or so, he got a text from Chansung. Taecyeon cursed silently and contemplated on pretending he hadn’t seen the it. He burrowed into his pillows and pulled the sheets over himself and tried to erase the text from the glowing screen in his mind. Chansung had asked, Hyung, are you okay? Are you still planning to go to Nuneo’s birthday party tonight?
It took Taecyeon several minutes to make the decision. Sure, he was fine. Apart from the fact that he felt like he was drowning whenever Chansung was inside his mind. Chansung could split open his skull and Taecyeon would be entirely at his mercy. Taecyeon swallowed thickly. All he saw was being sewn into with threads that led back to Chansung’s control. He broke into cold sweat. Yeah, he answered. More minutes went by before he typed in, idk. Maybe he shouldn’t go to Junho’s birthday party. That would be a first in the history that they’d all started working together as 2PM. Even when they were trainees, Taecyeon had gone to their birthdays. Even if he missed it, he’d make it up the next available, as others did when they couldn’t make it another bandmate’s birthday. No, but this was different. He was considering not to go at all. But then again, it had been years. They were much older now, and someone missing out a bandmate’s birthday would be more likely to happen. Yes, but, for Taecyeon’s reason? Unlikely. No one missed a bandmate’s birthday to avoid someone else. That was preposterous. But Chansung is preposterous, Taecyeon reasoned.
His phone buzzed again. If you’re feeling unwell, I’ll let him know... In fact, there’s something I should tell you... Chansung wrote.
What, Taecyeon replied. He tried to be nonchalant. But suddenly he felt apprehensive.
Junho said not to come to the party.
Taecyeon bolted up, tossing the pillows and the sheets off his bed and onto the floor. He began to rapidly type out something, but at the end of it, his thumbs were shaking and he threw his phone to the floor. He fell back onto the bed again and shut his prickling eyes and tried to recompose himself. Relax. Gather his breathing back. It was a technique he resorted to before he went up on stage but this was entirely different. The whole world was a stage and he felt like he was being mocked at by the entire universe. Taecyeon was upset that he felt something when Chansung had texted that. What the hell was Chansung trying to do to him? Taecyeon slammed a fist into the mattress and rolled over, face-planted. He grumbled. At least, like this, he wouldn’t have to see Chansung. The less he saw Chansung, the better, he figured. Less of this odd feeling that he couldn’t escape. Less of this apprehension that he was so close and yet so far. Less of this hopelessness that he made him feel like a fool. But the question burned in his mind. The question that he couldn’t get himself to send to Chansung.
Is that what he told you say? Or do you take pleasure in using Junho’s name as an excuse?
*
Later on that night, he texted Junho, Happy birthday, Nuneo-yah. I’m sorry I can’t make it, I’m not feeling well. Of course he spent the whole night listening to his phone vibrate countless times from Junho text-yelling at him to come over right now even if Taecyeon was nearing his deathbed. (Insert an excessive amount of exclamation points and endearing expletives, of course.) Minjun even texted that he was at the party- surprise, surprise- even though he was meant to stay in LA for a whole month. Wooyoung nagged and Nichkhun called countless times. And Chansung?
He got nothing from Chansung. And so be it.
D-54
fine and peachy - the incredibles
It was February.
It had been a month since they danced together in Taecyeon's bedroom that winter night on New Year’s. Since then, Taecyeon began to notice that Chansung visited his home less and less often. Maybe Chansung was busy, Taecyeon thought, though somewhere inside of him an inkling of concern made him want to call Chansung just to make sure. He didn't. Chansung was old enough to take care of himself, Taecyeon nodded to himself. In fact, it was easier to forget now. Everything was fine.
D-51
there’s no room for anyone else - invisible
"I know it's a week early. But since we're filming Chansung's birthday for Real2PM today, I have the greatest idea in the world," Minjun explained to Taecyeon sitting across from him in the van, using his hands to draw this magnificent, plausible idea in the air. Wooyoung sat beside Minjun and sniggered.
Taecyeon smirked. "You don't have an idea, do you?"
Minjun struck out an accusing finger. "Yah! I do have an idea-"
"He doesn't," Wooyoung mouthed to Taecyeon, shaking his head with a sneer. Taecyeon laughed boisterously. Minjun squinted at Wooyoung and threatened to tickle him or something. Throughout the rest of the ride, Minjun and Wooyoung argued about The Greatest Plan On Earth for Chansung. Later, Junho and Nichkhun joined them as they walked to the usual nondescript room where they filmed some of their Real2PM videos in the past. Everything seemed so natural, like nothing was missing. And they continued to banter about who had the better idea for Chansung's birthday while Taecyeon mostly watched them with a smile that did not reach his eyes. See, how easy it was to forget?
No one seemed to notice that Chansung himself was not there at all.
D-44
you jump, i won’t jump - titanic
Today was Lincoln's birthday, the only significant day in February. That would sound like something Junho would deadpan, in a flat tone and bored-as-hell eyes. Truthfully, they were all sitting around in a cafe reserved only for them for the rest of the night, but yet again, Chansung was a no show. Which made this real birthday party for Chansung quite useless. They had been waiting for nearly four hours now, and the sun had set below the horizon, the crescent moon visible through the light clouds. Some of Chansung's friends outside of the company had attended too, though they were all hesitant to ask where Chansung was. Most of them busied themselves to the food and drinks there. Some jazz music was playing in the background for now, probably something to soothe everyone's nerves, Taecyeon noted. Except for his nerves though because he felt perfectly fine. In fact, he’d been feeling great the past week with no Chansung in his life. It did bring uneasiness when others brought Chansung up every once in a while, especially to him, like as if he knew something about Chansung that they didn’t.
"Maybe he thought his birthday was cancelled since it was filmed a week ago," Junho muttered. Wooyoung swung his elbow into Junho's side. "What!" Junho cried as Wooyoung gave him a scolding grimace. "Then, can you explain why Chansung's not here?"
Jo Kwon had overheard and invited himself to the conversation, and sat right in between Junho and Wooyoung. "I bet," Jo Kwon whispered scandalously and everyone ducked their heads to listen closely, "he went to the army." Everyone mostly rolled their eyes, and a couple people groaned under their breaths. Taecyeon and Minjun gave each other hard glances. "But seriously, guys, where is Chansung?" Jo Kwon asked.
Jinwoon had floated between Junho and Taecyeon. "I think someone should check if Chansung's okay," he said quietly. "He hasn't picked up any of our calls and most of us haven't seen him in a while." This was new. This was new and startling information that made Taecyeon feel uncomfortable. And Taecyeon knew this was directed to Junho and himself. He glanced at Junho to see if this was a good idea, but Junho fidgeted and promptly stared at the floor. If anyone should check on Chansung, it should be Junho, Taecyeon thought. So he waited for Junho to volunteer.
“You should go see if everything’s alright,” Junho spoke up, almost sounding angry, staring at Taecyeon with eyes like daggers. Everyone's eyes were on Taecyeon now, waiting for him to take action. Taecyeon stared back into the crowd, realizing that they had all been expecting him to volunteer with his own raise of the hand, not Junho. He felt beads of sweat rolling down his neck and onto his spine, trickling over each bone with the same ticklish feeling when Chansung had traced a finger down his back. Taecyeon didn’t want to. He had felt so safe this past week and- fine, admittedly empty when Chansung wasn’t there but he had ignored it. And he was fine. He kept staring into the crowd until everything grew into a feathery-blur. But someone caught his eyes in the midst of the blur and reminded him so much like Chansung, even if it was Chansung’s friend who looked entirely different- mysterious and aloof- with that tall, leaner frame. The friend’s name was Sihyoung, Taecyeon remembered Chansung was telling him after he and Sihyoung filmed a secret movie in China the summer of 2014. Sihyoung winked.
Taecyeon stood up at once, nodding solemnly even though he felt like he was sinking into an abyss. The others voiced in approval as they saw Taecyeon walk out of the restaurant. A hurricane of different feelings welled up inside of Taecyeon, but the one that particularly bothered him the most was feeling of getting bitten. He could remember vividly whenever Chansung used to bite him on the shoulder, teeth marking his skin. Taecyeon drew a hand up to his shoulder and clenched his fingers down on it until he was sure he could feel his fingertips digging crescent moons.
*
"Chansung is keeping something from all of us," Junho mumbled on the phone. Taecyeon parked his car about a quarter of a mile away from Chansung's home, to avoid getting seen by Chansung if he really were at home.
Taecyeon pulled the sweatshirt tighter around himself. "Yeah, I think so, too," he answered, though he hadn't really noticed it much if that were true. Chansung seemed to keep a lot of things to himself.
"Actually, you know what I think? I think you’re keeping something away from all of us, as well," Junho said on the other side of the line. Taecyeon adjusted the phone to his ear, unsure if he had heard that right.
"What the hell are you saying?" Taecyeon questioned. His eyes darted back and forth, and he suddenly felt like he was being watched.
"I don't know. Last I talked to him, he said he'd been going to your house." Junho sounded agitated now. “It seemed like you two were close,” he spit the last word like acid.
Taecyeon's blood curdled. He gritted his teeth. "He went to my house on his own accord. I don’t know what the hell he’s been telling you but if I had something to do with it, then I would know. But I don't. If you want to find out these things for yourself, maybe you should have volunteered because I- it’s not my concern to look after Chansung even if the whole world thinks so. And if you were truly concerned, did it seem right that we had to film Real2PM without him? We had to lie to our fans that Chansung was busy with some secret schedule. So maybe, you’re hiding something too, Lee Junho."
"I told Chansung to...” Junho trailed off.
“What? What did you tell him?”
Junho sighed. “Look, I didn't call to argue with you." He sounded tired.
"But you make it seem like I'm supposed to know everything about him. You know him better than I do. You lived longer with him than I did."
"Yeah, but that was your choice! You decided to move out, remember? I didn't. I stayed because I wanted to be with my friend," Junho snapped.
"Sure, until you moved out too!" Taecyeon exclaimed angrily. There was a long pause on the line before Junho spoke up again, and Taecyeon had to press the phone to his ear.
"I'm too tired for this. Just... Just tell me if he's okay," Junho whispered and he hung up.
Taecyeon pocketed his phone, grumbling about everyone's demeanor at the "party." Especially Junho, who really seemed to be hiding something. Taecyeon had noticed Junho was acting up at Minjun’s birthday party and disappearing off for hours at a time. Jay had even mentioned that Junho and Chansung had argued- what had they been arguing about? Taecyeon asked Jay later on but at the time, Jay was drunk, floating on those plastic donuts in the pool. So that was no use. But the way Junho disappeared was like the mini version of what Chansung was doing now, and Taecyeon had to frown. Maybe this was what Junho told Chansung to do. To disappear. And then on Junho’s birthday, Taecyeon was absolutely sure Chansung had used Junho’s name as an excuse. An inkling of an answer whispered to back to the why question but Taecyeon blocked it out. He didn’t need it. Simply ignoring and forgetting was much easier.
Really, no one wanted to face the truth that their maknae could be in trouble. If he was in trouble. And deep down, Taecyeon knew that he did not want to face it either. In his mind, Chansung would always be fine and peachy. There was absolutely nothing wrong. None of them hid anything from each other. But he did suppose that the distance between them would change their lives, so they built their own glass houses around themselves and broke down the years' worth of bridges they had built connecting each other. Chansung, having moved out last, seemed to be the clingiest. And because of that, Taecyeon knew with all his sinking misgivings that it wasn't right when Chansung disappeared for days at a time. He did not know what Chansung was doing. Nor did he ever want to find out. The cold air cuffed at his lungs and his heart raced as he turned his thoughts and over and over like dirty pebbles. His footsteps were no longer determined, they faltered on the concrete. He misstepped and nearly twisted his ankle. But he had caught himself by grasping onto a lamp post.
Shaken, he spun around and ran. Taecyeon ran and ran until he reached his car. Once he was inside, he called Junho and told him Chansung was not at home
part 3
“You are a really great actor,” Jay commented, but his voice sounded distant. Even though he was looking at Taecyeon, it seemed as if he was seeing right past him. He lifted his snapback, ran his fingers through his hair, and fit it back on again. And then hummed.
“Thanks...?” Taecyeon crossed his arms, too. He was confused.
Jay licked his lips and shifted on his feet, nodding to himself. “Okay, awright. I got it.”
Taecyeon craned his neck. “You got what?”
“It. I got it.” Jay’s lips formed a tight line. He nodded to himself again. “I ain’t even judgin’ ya. Okay? Ain’t even gonna do to that my homie.”
“What?” Taecyeon’s brows furrowed. “Jay, what are you talking about?”
Jay held out his hand, pursing his lips. “Like man to man. I’m gonna tell ya. No need to freak out and shit but like, there’s this method that works. If you need it. Not steppin’ on your life, no, not anything like that, aight?”
“F-Freak out? What?” Taecyeon asked again.
“It only works ‘tween bros, ‘kay? Like. Yeah, that’s it. Like. You just wanna find out if you’re into him, right? So all you gotta do-”
“Hold up, hold up. You mean like-”
“Yeah, like. If you wanna you know if you like him or not. Not like like but like like. Makes a difference, ya know. But hey, like I said, I know nothin’. ‘Cause I’m different. You’re different. S’all good.”
“Wait, who are we talking about?”
“Who the hell do you think we’re talkin’ ‘bout?” Jay asked.
“Um...” Taecyeon paused, lines visible on his forehead. “Chansung?”
“So, do you like him?”
“What!” Taecyeon exclaimed incredulously. “Jay, Jay, Jay, what the fu-”
Jay held onto his shoulders to calm him down. “Dude, dude chill. Okay, I know it’s gonna be hard but like, I can tell ya. Take it easy and like, it’s gonna be good. All good. So good.” Then Jay snickered to himself and Taecyeon felt like someone lit him on fire.
“Jay,” Taecyeon said, shaking his head. He tried to move further away. “Jay, I don’t really get what you’re trying to say. This is-”
“Aight, that’s fine. I can tell you ‘bout this method, then. I learned it from my friend, Ryan, when we were filming this video or some shit six years ago,” Jay explained and he noticed Taecyeon’s confused beyond heck expression. “Ryan Higa,” Jay elaborated. Taecyeon nodded slowly. “‘Cept, I’m modifying it ‘cause it’s for bromance shit but I’m tellin’ ya, it’s hella... somethin’ else. For reals.”
“Oh... kay,” Taecyeon said, deciding to just go along with it.
“Good. So like. You ever felt your hair gettin’ touched and stroked?” Jay asked, engrossed with his explanation. Taecyeon just put on his what the fuck face. He had no idea who the fuck Jay was anymore. But Jay kept going, unfazed. “‘Kay, ‘cause I have. It feels all tingly and shit. Good, right? Right. So. Here comes the best part. If you like that the person likes getting tingles- I mean that face, you like their face when you touch their hair ‘cause they look like they’re on the verge of orgasm-”
“Jay-”
“And you like the softness of their hair, then that is fucking it, man. That’s the fucking enlightenment. But here’s the key thing: the softness has to be like eyebrow hair. I ain’t even kidding. Years ago, I didn’t believe this shit but now-”
“Jay, I don’t-”
“Eyebrow hair, man. Eye fucking brow.” Jay proceeded to demonstrate this by touching his own eyebrow. He shut his eyes and exhaled loudly and sultrily. “Ooh yeah. See. I love myself. ‘Cause this eyebrow feels like the fucking clouds from heaven, yeah. And that’s how you know it. Man to man. I bestow this god-amazing knowledge unto ya. Be free, young T-sizzle, because love is in the air, tonight. I mean it ain’t night yet, but close enough. Be free.” Jay spread out his arms and wriggled his fingers, like he was throwing pixie dust all over Taecyeon. He noticed that Taecyeon’s bow tie was wilting again, so he fixed that and gave a thumbs up. “And you’re lookin’ mighty fine. Now go chase that boy. I’m so proud of you, man. You’ve grown up so much,” Jay murmured in a high pitched voice, breathless. He sounded like he was about to cry. His eyes were teary and he shook his head in disbelief that his Taecyeon was just so grown up. But Taecyeon was nowhere near anything to emotionally ecstatic or crying tears of joy like Jay was. No, in fact, his blood was boiling with fiery rage.
Taecyeon gritted his teeth. “You’re playing me, aren’t you. You’re not even serious.”
Jay blinked, wiping his eyelashes as if he were still tearing up like a baby. But Taecyeon wasn’t buying it. Jay shoved a wet finger to Taecyeon’s face, showing that they were real tears, and still, Taecyeon was having none of that. Finally, Jay sensed that he’d lost and immediately his face fell. He snapped his fingers in disappointment. “Damn, you saw right through me.”
“You’re an asshole,” Taecyeon muttered, running his hand through his hair. He couldn’t help the exasperated laugh from falling out of his lips. “Why I let you do that to me, I don’t even...”
“Always was, always will be,” Jay said with a grin, clicking his tongue. “And I know you missed me most. That’ll never change. Now tell me what the fuck is ‘tween you and Chansung ‘cause you were blushing like a shit ton just now just by saying his name. I ain’t even knew you could blush. I mean you usually just act fucking weird. Like, ew, gross. Unless...” Jay leaned in close, looking at Taecyeon straight in the eye. Taecyeon didn’t budge an inch but he could tell just how much Jay wanted to provoke him. That was in Jay’s blood. A lopsided smirk covered Jay’s face, like he was analyzing Taecyeon’s every thought through a soul-piercing gaze like that. But Taecyeon’s complexion was almost expressionless, and he’d say it was pretty damn good, except for his lips which twitched a little so that his dimples emerged. Jay sniggered. “You ain’t sayin’ a thing!” he shouted with a loud laugh, leaning back and clapping boisterously.
“I’m not saying anything,” Taecyeon quipped, “because even if I did, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“True, but.” Jay sneered ear to ear. “I fucking know everything now,” he whisperered, with a maliciously delighted glint his eyes and then copied Taecyeon’s waggling eyebrow gimmick.
Taecyeon took a step forward, clenching his fists. “I’m gonna sock you in the nose now.”
“Sure, yeah. You do that. But see,” Jay said, nudging at Taecyeon’s dimples with a finger, “You can’t even keep a straight face.”
A door slammed close from further inside the house, interrupting Taecyeon’s thoughts on wanting to pummel Jay into pulp. Jay and Taecyeon turned and saw Junho carrying a bowl with mixed fruit with one hand. Sunglasses still covered Junho’s eyes so it was difficult to see his expression and Junho made it a point to walk briskly through the room. But he didn’t forget to recognize that Jay was there. If Junho was explosively upset, he didn’t show it, so Taecyeon figured Junho had known that Jay was coming to the birthday party. Or maybe Junho was keeping it inside; still, in the end, Taecyeon didn’t want to know.
“Hey, Jaebeom hyung,” Junho greeted, but his voice was nearly emotionless.
“Junho,” Jay said with a nod of acknowledgement and gave Junho a side hug. Taecyeon was surprised Junho returned it, with his free arm. Jay whispered something in Junho’s ear that made him smile, something that Taecyeon could not catch, and Junho lingered long enough for Jay to snatch a piece of cantaloupe and stuff it into his mouth. They parted. Junho waved a little, nodding and then he went to the sliding doors and exited out onto the patio. Taecyeon could see Chansung approaching Junho with a plate of pizza and samgyupsal and Chansung’s eyes flickered past Junho and inside the house. Though it was dark inside where Taecyeon was standing, Taecyeon knew Chansung was looking for his silhouette. He made a mistake. He had let his eyes linger on the patio door a little too long and Chansung’s eyes caught his, and Taecyeon felt something bubble and burn in his chest. His cheeks warmed like roses in hot water, though he was glad the darkness hid it from Jay and more importantly, Chansung. Everything was fine. Sometimes flashes of heat would come and go when Taecyeon remembered he was still in the suffocating pink shirt. Obviously it was because of that, not because of Chansung. Definitely not. He tugged at his collar again and turned to Jay again, who had been staring intently at Taecyeon the whole time.
“So... what’d you say to Junho?” Taecyeon asked, tapping his fingers impatiently on the side of his arm. Jay folded his arms across his chest.
“Oh, aren’t you so curious?” he asked with biting sarcasm.
Taecyeon shut his eyes, trying to keep his composure. He opened them again, to find Jay smiling at him. Now he was boiling again. “Well yeah, you made him smile. Why didn’t you touch his eyebrow while you were at it?”
Jay scoffed. “You jealous? Are you suddenly into Junho? I thought you were into someone else. I thought you had Chansung. I twot, I taw a puddy tat,” Jay said in a nasally tone, imitating Tweety bird. The fuse was blown.
“I’m not!” Taecyeon yelled. The glass on the patio doors seemed to shake from his bellowing voice.
“To which of those questions and statements are you answerin’ ‘cause...” Jay raised a hand and pretended to count the things he had said, thrown in Taecyeon’s face. Taecyeon’s fists tightened even more.
“All of them!”
Jay smirked. “Great. Now lemme bring Chansung in and you can tell him straight in the face about how much you don’t like his eyebrows and how you don’t like him at all in that way, you’re only just best friends.” Jay turned to leave but Taecyeon grabbed his shoulders and hauled him back.
“You can’t,” Taecyeon said in a panicky tone.
“Why not?” Jay asked, squinting at him. He looked like he was about to smirk again. Taecyeon swallowed thickly.
“Because... I do like someone,” he confessed tentatively. His voice had been reduced to a near whisper. Taecyeon twiddled his thumbs around and around and he stared at that motion instead of Jay’s face because of the lulling feeling it came from staring at the blur. He felt as though he was teetering at his window sill again, just like that night. But that night, Chansung had grabbed ahold of him and- no. No.
“Uhuuuh,” Jay answered, nodding slowly. He waved his hands in front of Taecyeon’s face, trying wake him out of his trance. Taecyeon blinked.
“I just don’t wanna talk about it...”
“Mhmmm...”
“Until she’s ready.”
“Oh,” Jay said, nodding. He brushed Taecyeon’s hand off of him, making his way out to the patio again. Taecyeon was stunned into silence with the way Jay had reacted. Like it was nothing. Like nothing had happened. But just at the entrance, Jay paused, scratching over the tattooed stars on his neck. “I won’t tell anyone ‘bout it, Taec. Jus’- make sure you’re careful.” He opened his mouth to say more but shook his head against it. And then he did it again, while adjusting the chain around his neck. “And hey, it kinda hurts when you cheat though. When you cheat on someone’s feelings and you play around with ‘em. You push ‘em away and then you go chasin’ ‘em again like you can’t breathe without ‘em. But you look like y’know what you’re doin’. So I ain’t worried. I mean, I ain’t even gonna worry if it was actually an issue. But it’s not, right? ‘Cause you’d never lie to me, nah.” Jay nodded to himself once more. “Not like this, you wouldn’t lie to me or to yourself knowing that you’re gonna enlist soon. ‘Cause that would be fucked up. But I ain’t worried.” Jay’s jaw went stiff but he rolled his shoulders. He gave one more look at Taecyeon, before stepping out into the patio and sliding the door close.
Jay came back to the door moments later and slid it open just an inch, so his mouth could fit in. “By the way, Minjun actually had nothin’ to announce, it was just my cue to walk in. Secondly, I told Junho I’d beat your ass ‘cause he missed that part while arguin’ with Chansung inside. Thirdly, I’d say you just got served. So. In ya fuckin’ face.” Jay stuck out his tongue, moved away and slammed the door shut.
There was no “she.” And served he was because the ache in his chest resurfaced again.
*
A few days before, Taecyeon was lying in bed, staring at the golden morning sunlight stripe his skin like a celestial zebra. His dreams that night were hot and wet and he had slid out of his shirt without being conscious of it. All that lingered in his mind when he woke up was the cricket chirping from outside (which didn’t make sense because it was only January so that may have been a part of his dream; but it felt so oddly real). And of course, the source of the heat clung onto the walls of his mind, with the dripping drops of sweat that slid down his skin and he frantically tried to wipe them away. The source of the heat was a blurry figure of milk skin and Taecyeon could mouth the name of that figure even if a bowling ball was jammed in between his jaws. He wanted to flinch out of embarrassment and stuff his face with pillow to suffocate the blush creeping in but he refused to budge. Maybe he could outstand this. He stayed frigid in bed, unwilling to move a muscle. He could freeze himself and empty out his mind. If Taecyeon could master this, then he could face Chansung without feeling like he was tossed around in the wind. Or maybe, all he had to do was recite a poem, like Hyun Bin in Secret Garden did. Taecyeon smiled, remembering watching the drama over six years ago. He’d admit any day he was watching it for Ha Ji Won since she was definitely in her prime those days and any guy like him would fantasize with wanting to be on screen with her. In fact, Chansung had said that Taecyeon would look good with Ha Ji Won-
Taecyeon had watched that drama with Chansung, he remembered. His mind spiraled and looped ways that made him dizzy. Chansung had watched dramas with Taecyeon often so they had spent so much time watching things together back in the dorm. Even when they weren’t living together anymore, Chansung would frequent to Taecyeon’s house and they’d eat dinner while watching the new episode air on tv. Out of all the members, Chansung was the one who dedicated himself to watching Taecyeon in dramas, especially. Taecyeon remembered when Chansung visited him on the site of Who Are You. Later on, Chansung would visit again during Wonderful Days, the longer family drama that spanned for fifty episodes. All the filming had gone by like a blur, but Chansung’s presence stayed. Chansung’s lofty steps across the set stayed in his mind, too, how Chansung’s eyes reflected all the shimmery set pieces that glowed in the sunlight and all the color flashing from the lights and everyone’s clothes bustling back and forth. Chansung’s awe stayed with him. When Chansung looped his arm and looking into Taecyeon’s phone for a selca, Taecyeon could see how Chansung radiated and that clung onto his dimples and butterflies filled his stomach.
Jay would laugh at him like a monkey, he was sure of it. In fact, he’d laugh, too, if it weren’t for the doorbell interrupting his thoughts. He rose out of his bed mechanically and glanced at the clock. It was almost seven AM. That was unusually early of him to wake up but he should be more concerned that there was someone at the door at this time.
His boxer shorts rode up on his thighs so he tugged that down. He scratched the stubble along his jawline and down his neck as he unlocked the door. The sunlight blinded his eyes and he smacked his lips with a grumble. Oh, no. Taecyeon spun around quickly, using his foot to slam the door shut but he heard footsteps following behind him. They were light and floaty as usual and Taecyeon’s heart raced in his ribcage. He wanted to get back to his refuge. He could save himself by locking the door of his bedroom and then Chansung couldn’t possibly get in. He could do that, but when he picked up his sheets and pillows off the floor and leapt into bed, it seemed quite impossible. Chansung was his friend, nothing more than that, and definitely not an enemy. Why he was treating Chansung like a monster? Taecyeon muffled his exasperated sigh by face-planting into a pillow. What kind of conflicted feeling was this?
It was eerily silent. Taecyeon had expected Chansung to start babbling about something, explaining why he needed to bother Taecyeon at this time of the morning. Usually, Chansung would apologize. Maybe Chansung might notice that Taecyeon was really “busy” and leave. Taecyeon’s chest tightened. He listened carefully. He heard footsteps approaching the bed and then silence once again. What was Chansung doing? Taecyeon felt the unease enter his veins, ready to break out into cold sweat. He couldn’t keep frozen, some parts of the blanket was tickling his skin and his stiff joints cried out in discomfort. He used to be young and levelled. Now he was a blithering idiot, hoping Chansung would leave him alone because his heart was tap dancing and he felt like he had a steel rod up his ass. Breathe, he told himself. Count sheep. No, he hated sheep. He remembered the time he had to film We Got Married (Global) with Gui Gui and their wedding photoshoot was staged with sheep. At least Chansung hadn’t visited that set but when the others did, it didn’t feel right. Goddamnit.
Maybe instead of focusing his own shrivelled up, panicking lungs, he could listen for Chansung’s breathing. But he couldn’t hear anything. Oh, maybe Chansung did finally leave-
The bed creaked. At first, Taecyeon want to fly out of his bed and make a run for it but now that Chansung’s weight was on the mattress, he couldn’t get himself to do it. Now he was frozen for the wrong reason. He groaned silently to himself. He tried to ignore the fact that he felt lightheaded and dizzy, or the soft hum from Chansung’s lips that hovered just over his back. Taecyeon couldn’t tell what the tune was but he felt dazed. Warm. He felt himself melt into his mattress and suddenly all the tickling pillows and sheets around him felt like a gentle cradle. Calming darkness lifted him away from the discomfort and instead replaced it with dizzying heat. It was a good type of dizzy. Even when the bed creaked again, and Taecyeon could hear the shuffling movements onto his bed, he felt himself slipping out from under. Chansung’s weight was close enough to him that the mattress dipped near his hips and he should’ve felt panicky but, he felt like a puddle. One time, he put a stick of butter into the microwave while watching Chansung stir a bowl of dough with such focused intent that when the butter came out, it was a gooey puddle inside the platter. And when Chansung took the platter out of his hands, Taecyeon stared with fascination as the butter slid and dripped into the bowl, warm and slow. The butter landed onto the dough and Chansung took the spoon and stirred it with that slow pace that defeated time’s meaning and Taecyeon felt dazzled by the motions, staring at the circles, at the butter sinking into the dough and slicking it up with an oily shine. He felt like he was in that dough, getting all stirred up. That was how Taecyeon was feeling. Like melted butter.
He felt himself float away while the bed shook and now Taecyeon could feel heat hugging around his waist. He knew this. It was normal when Chansung would massage Taecyeon’s back and Chansung’s thighs would cradle his waist, sometimes digging at his hip bones. Maybe, Chansung was doing him a favor to give him a massage. That would definitely be nice. Okay, more than nice. That would be divine. So Taecyeon braced for it. He felt a hand run down his spine and he shivered at the warm trailing touch. It wasn’t too warm to call it a fire, because other times Chansung had touched him, he felt like he was being eaten up in feverish flames but this- felt good. Chansung’s hand stopped in the curve of his lower back and rested there. So, Chansung was easing himself in. Okay. Taecyeon could take that. Except then, nothing happened there and Taecyeon let out a huff into the pillow, shifting himself a little. Wiggling and nudging against Chansung’s thighs to get a move on. Now, Chansung drew a finger across his spine, following every valley of his vertebrae bones. His finger would get caught and then he’d bring it up slowly, let it dip and get caught again. Taecyeon swallowed thickly and shifted himself again. Maybe this wasn’t-
Fuck. Something warm and wet traced a message on his lower back. Chansung’s finger. It happened again, the finger wet, retracing the previous letters. The warmth of the saliva immediately hit the air and went cold and Chansung hummed delightedly, into his finger, which Taecyeon could tell because it sounded muffled. In mid-hum, Taecyeon turned around, nearly throwing Chansung off of him with a startled yell. Taecyeon clasped onto Chansung’s wrist and hauled him down so they were chest to chest, nose to nose. Chansung was breathing hard, his doe eyes like a pair of full moons.
“Hyung,” Chansung breathed in shock.
“What are you doing to me?” Taecyeon growled. He couldn’t shake off sleepiness in his voice, it made his voice box rumble low and heated. Chansung visibly pinked on the cheeks.
“I... was writing-”
“What?” Taecyeon inched himself closer, piercing his gaze through Chansung’s barriers.
“I hate you,” Chansung murmured, looking away.
Taecyeon paused, the whirlwind of his thoughts halting abruptly and vanishing. The thumping of his heart noisily beat against the temples of his head like a throbbing headache. Usually, he’d make plans of getaway but for some reason, was drawing a blank. He should, but he couldn’t. The weight of Chansung on his chest and torso, their legs entangled and thighs touching and knees knocking and ankles grazing- all of that, he couldn’t handle. He felt like he was drowning again and yet, floating, and he found himself drawing Chansung’s chin toward him until their noses kissed. “Is that so? And you had to lick your finger and write it out like that? Just to tell me... how much you hate me? Is that really so?” Taecyeon voiced, in a low, playful undertone.
Chansung’s face went beet-red and Taecyeon let his knuckles brush against Chansung’s cheek, where he thought it turned even more scarlet than before. The skin was definitely flushed. Taecyeon took great pleasure in that, he had to bite down on his smile. Chansung squeaked, “It’s not like that.”
“Really?” Taecyeon propped himself up, resting on his elbows now. If Chansung hadn’t moved away, their lips could have collided. Taecyeon didn’t really want to think about that, but Chansung looked heated rosy pink and stunned like someone had bewitched him. Taecyeon, of course. Of course. Taecyeon’s lips curled with a greasy grin. “Really, Chansung-ah? Because I can offer you something else.”
“Hmm?” Chansung hummed incredulously. Taecyeon kept inching himself closer and Chansung wasn’t fighting it. Oh, good.
“I can,” Taecyeon whispered low and sultrily, “offer you something else to lick.” He let his tongue wet his smirking lips slowly, and he saw Chansung’s eyes follow it with interest. “And I’m sure you’ve been thinking about it. I’m sure you want it.”
“I don’t-” Chansung sputtered. Taecyeon pressed a thumb onto Chansung’s lips to shush him up, and he traced his thumb across Chansung’s lip. Chansung’s saliva slicked his thumb and Taecyeon contemplated on sucking on it to make Chansung go wild. He did. Chansung exhaled sharply. The gap was closing in. Now their breaths mingled in and Chansung shut his eyes, tilting his head the slightest bit forward. Taecyeon felt sanity spring loose and drip down his tongue, pooling inside mouth. He was thirsty. And this was bad. Very bad. But now he could hear Chansung’s breathing slow down as it ghosted over his lips and lit them on euphoric fire. He bit his lip. He could kiss Chansung right now. Or he could-
Laugh. Taecyeon jerked away with a loud laugh, pushing Chansung away from him as he got off the bed smoothly. His boxer shorts rode up his thighs again and he knew Chansung was staring at that, at the creases and folds of the fabric outlining his ass but he pretended not to care, putting all his effort in laughing as loud as he could, scream-laughing. He bent down and laughed until his throat itched and his chest felt like it was going to explode. “You don’t think so? You don’t think you want to lick anything else?” Taecyeon asked hysterically. “Yeah, because I didn’t think so either.” He stopped abruptly, his face went emotionless. “Because that would be messed up.”
Chansung looked so- wounded. “I never-” he halted, like he ran out of words to say. Because it was true. Chansung had thought about it before. The moment the epiphany had dawned on him, Taecyeon choked on himself and began to cough. Chansung immediately rose out of the bed but Taecyeon picked up a pillow from the floor and chucked it into Chansung’s face.
“I’m fine,” Taecyeon croaked. He left for the bathroom, refusing to look at Chansung’s watery eyes.
An hour and a shower later, Taecyeon emerged out of the bathroom in nothing but dripping hair and a towel around his waist. He peeked out of the door, scanning his room for Chansung. Nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a smaller towel from the rack to rub down his hair. Once he reached the mirror and set down the towel, he was ready to pick up the hair-dryer when he caught the reflection of Chansung staring at him. Damn it. Taecyeon’s shoulder slumped. “Yes, hi, what do you want?” he asked nonchalantly, masking the anxiety in his voice.
Chansung fiddled with his fingers, looking bashful. “I packed your bag. The flight’s in a couple of hours.”
Taecyeon turned, raising a brow. “Why would you do that?”
“Wooyoung paid for our tickets,” Chansung answered meekly.
“Wooyoung did that?” Taecyeon asked, like it was the most absurd idea in the world. But then he shrugged. “He’s planning Minjun’s party, of course.”
Chansung nodded slowly. “I packed your bag, you know...”
“Yes, I heard that the first...” Taecyeon trailed off and then glared at Chansung. “What did you pack, exactly?” There was that party smile that decorated Chansung’s complexion. Taecyeon pinched the bridge of his nose with a stuttering sigh, trying to ignore the fluttery sensation in his chest.
“I didn’t pack your thongs if you’re worried about-”
Taecyeon lunged after him. “No one told you to look at my stuff!” he shouted. But Chansung gleefully laughed and ran across the room, leaping over the bed and prancing toward the bedroom door. Taecyeon caught up to him just as Chansung had turned the knob. He pinned Chansung’s back toward the door with a dull thud, knocking the wind out of the maknae. They were both breathing heavily now, age creeping at their joints and bones. They weren’t so young anymore to chase after one another like they used to. Or throw each other’s bodies into furniture, only to get up and laugh at their bruises. Taecyeon placed a hand on Chansung’s chest and firmly pressed him against the door; his other hand, next to Chansung’s ear. He stared at Chansung, still trying to catch his breath, huffs of of warm air fluttering through Chansung’s fine dark hair and making the strands float before landing back down into the pillowful black that shined in the light. Or in moonlight, which Taecyeon thought Chansung’s hair looked best, like the night of New Year’s when Chansung had pressed him against the table filled with drinks. Taecyeon grinned lopsidedly. Now he had the upperhand, and took a step closer, until the drops of water from his hair and body were dripping on Chansung’s clothes.
Chansung looked unfazed. He blinked slowly though, as if taking in the sight before him. Taecyeon should have been bothered by that, by the undivided attention, but the lack of that feeling did make him worried. What was this turning into? Was it dangerous? Of course, it was dangerous. That shouldn’t have been a question in the first place. Chansung tried to remove Taecyeon’s hand from his chest, but Taecyeon wouldn’t budge. The appleblossom pink of Chansung’s lips scrunched up into a small smile. It made Taecyeon bite the inside of his mouth.
“What?” Taecyeon asked.
“You keep doing this to me,” Chansung replied, tilting his head to the side. Taecyeon gaped.
“Me? To you?” Taecyeon shook his head. “No no no. You’re the one who keeps doing this to me. I don’t know what you’re playing at.” Taecyeon meant every threatening word, but Chansung just laughed which made Taecyeon dizzy again. He felt like he was teetering once more, by the window sill.
“So we’re playing the blame game now?” Chansung asked.
“No such game, when clearly, you’re the one to blame.” Taecyeon leaned in, glaring at him. He had to bite on his lip from smiling, because Chansung’s terrorizing grin was hard to not mirror.
“Oh, how so, hyung? Enlighten me.”
“Do I have to say it for you to know? You really want me to?” Taecyeon asked, sneering. Chansung only shrugged casually like he could take what was coming. As if. Taecyeon clicked his tongue with confidence and rolled his shoulders with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows. “So, who was drunk on New Year’s and decided to taste my ear?”
“I’m sure the recipient enjoyed it though,” Chansung answered smugly. “And even offered to strip himself for me.”
Taecyeon’s face burned up in flames. “That’s-” he cleared his throat, “very untrue.”
“Ah, look, he seems to be in denial about a lot of things-”
Taecyeon slammed his palm next to Chansung’s ear, which made the maknae flinch and gasp. He drew himself close to Chansung. “So are you.” Silence hung in the air, the both of them marinating on their words, swishing it around in their mouths, swallowing it and letting it settle in the pit of their stomachs.
“You look so handsome up close,” Chansung said, his voice steady. So, Chansung opted for the detour, Taecyeon hissed inwardly. Always evading the issue at hand even though he was the one who had started it. But the caramel in Chansung’s eyes penetrated through Taecyeon’s gaze and he was seized with a ballooning, airy feeling. He felt naked- no, he was naked after all, with just that towel on his waist. God, this was dangerous. But Taecyeon didn’t miss a beat.
“So do you.”
Chansung smiled. “So what do we call this?”
Taecyeon hummed in contemplation. “I don’t like it when you ask too many questions.”
“Is it... something?” Chansung asked eagerly, stepping toward Taecyeon’s lips. “Can we call it something?”
“It doesn’t...” Taecyeon began but Chansung let his hand slide down Taecyeon’s arm, collecting the water droplets. It was warm against his damp skin.
Chansung hummed delightedly. “Remember in LA a couple years ago, you wore that pink shirt? You looked so good in that.” He let his fingers trace around Taecyeon’s collarbones. “You wore a black tie and...” Chansung outlined Taecyeon’s shoulders. “You wore a zebra cloak, which amazingly, looked good on you as well, you fashion terrorist.” Taecyeon felt a smile settle down on his lips. Chansung reached up and brushed away some wet strands of hair. “And you lightly gelled your hair up, so when the stage lights hit on you, all I could see what your forehead.”
“And my ears,” Taecyeon grinned.
Chansung giggled. “And yes, your ears.” He grazed a finger along the one he had licked on New Year’s, and Taecyeon shivered. Somewhere a thought drifted by and he felt like Chansung was too much. Chansung was dangerous. This whole thing was dangerous. But when Chansung was in front of him, all of Chansung was so irresistible. It could be something. But-
Taecyeon was back to square one. What was he doing? What were they doing? Time was ticking down as his enlistment drew nearer. And this was how he was spending his time? Taecyeon’s smile faltered and clutched onto Chansung’s wrists to stop him. “You don’t want me to smile or turn your words around. You want me to answer your question.”
Chansung nodded slowly. “But, it doesn’t have to be right now-”
“It does have to be right now,” Taecyeon cut him off sternly.
“Okay,” Chansung whispered solemnly.
Taecyeon took a deep breath. “You wanted to know if this could be something?” he leaned in, with the same close proximity as before, their personal bubbles invaded and skin clashing on each other. Taecyeon took a mental snapshot of Chansung’s babyface and the wonder that came with it, the parted rosy lips and the glittery eyes, blinking with fervent ardor. That made something crumple inside of him. Chansung was expectant of something that could never be. But Taecyeon kept feeding it to him, kept leaning in, skin on fabric. Chansung’s clothes were absorbing the water droplets from Taecyeon’s skin, or what was left of it, anyway. Taecyeon inhaled Chansung’s fragrance. Still that sweet vanilla. “Well, it doesn’t have to be anything. It shouldn’t be.” Punching words, delivered like a death sentence. He tried to shrug off the knife he drove into Chansung’s feelings, as he pushed himself away from Chansung using the door to give himself momentum. When Taecyeon had reached his mirror again to stare at his stupidly weak reflection of moppy damp hair, he heard the bedroom door slam shut. Disappointed footsteps echoed throughout the house and then the door to the driveway was thrown shut with a deafening bang.
If there was another way- no, there wasn’t. Not when he was attached to ropes by the joint and limb like a puppet, like a doll being thrown around. And none of it was significant, no matter how attractive that puppeteer was.
D-64
oh boy, you don’t know my heart - dangerous
It occurred to Taecyeon as he boarded the plane back to South Korea from LA that when Chansung wrote on his back, “I hate you,” in saliva, Chansung had been humming their song from the Grown album. Dangerous. They had never performed it live so Taecyeon couldn’t really remember it so well. It had only dawned on him when Chansung was humming to it again in the plane as Taecyeon put their bags into the compartments above them. It shouldn’t have bothered him but the lyrics, You’re so cute that I keep staring at you and something about looking like a doll, heart-racing and definitely time-wasting- it all seemed too much like deja vu.
It also occurred to Taecyeon that Chansung may have known that Jay was coming and the hint was behind the, “I hate you.” That was the title of their last few songs they sang together as seven before Jay had to leave. Taecyeon glanced at Chansung leaning against the plane window, and shuddered. So what if the maknae had a little bit of clairvoyance in him? Taecyeon wondered if Chansung could predict how destructive a life could be, naive to hopeless feelings.
But Chansung hadn’t said a word to Taecyeon since then, not even at Minjun’s party and Taecyeon guessed he preferred it that way. Less words, less trouble. But he kept thinking about Jay’s Seattle babble, as ridiculous as it sounded. What if- he let himself get played? Would it really hurt so much? He wondered if- oh, something interrupted his thoughts, the pooling warmth in his hand. Chansung had grasped onto his hand and intertwined their fingers together. Taecyeon stared at Chansung hard, as if wanting to shout, how dare you but Chansung was still in his own world, mouthing to lyrics, showering himself with the sunlight pouring through from the small ovalish window. Sunkissed eyelids and bubblegum pink lips called out to Taecyeon to treat the babyface like his maknae, and not a dangerous monster. Taecyeon scoffed at himself.
Once Chansung’s eyelids drooped to a close, Taecyeon reached over and shut the cover of the plane window close. As he did so, his face met with Chansung’s and instead of moving away, he stayed. What if... Taecyeon inhaled but refused to breathe out, afraid that the slightest sound would break the fragility of Chansung’s slumber. Strands of hair came over Chansung’s eyes and Taecyeon had to resist the urge to brush them away. His eyes fell onto Chansung’s mouth and he shook his head. He followed contours up the gentle curve of Chansung’s cheeks, and toward the deer-like arch of his eyelashes. Taecyeon could imagine Chansung’s brown eyes glittering back at him with fusing fireworks in the reflection. And then, he came to Chansung’s eyebrows and he stopped. His heart had risen up to his throat and was thrumming noisily. What if... Taecyeon raised his hand so slowly, afraid for the entire world. Afraid for himself. But he dared. The hammering beats of his heart weren’t encouraging but Chansung’s body heat invited him. Body heat was really light, infrared light, the nerd in Taecyeon corrected himself. Chansung was glowing.
What if this was really it? Taecyeon’s fingertip was a fraction of a hair away from touching Chansung’s eyebrow. He could hear Jay’s words echoing in his head, the softness has to be like eyebrow hair. And if it was really that soft, then maybe he did- maybe he could- it might be something- or maybe-
He heard rapid footsteps down the aisle beside him and he panicked. No, but he had to try it once. He had to. Taecyeon came this far, he couldn’t just back down now.
“Sir, would you like a drink?” the stewardess’ voice came from behind him. Taecyeon swallowed. He stared at Chansung, deliberating. It could be this, it could be now or it could be that or- That was when he noticed Chansung’s eyebrows were furrowed, and decisively, he gently pressed his fingers in between, until Chansung’s face relaxed from whatever nightmare he was having.
Taecyeon turned to the stewardess. “Yes, some water would be fine for me and Chansung-ah.” The stewardess looked stunned but shook herself out of it with a secretive smile. She gave him two full cups and went on her way.
Taecyeon downed the first cup and exhaled loudly. Then he clamped his mouth shut immediately, glancing at Chansung, afraid that he had woken Chansung up. But Chansung was still asleep, his head still against the window. Taecyeon grabbed the second cup and swallowed that whole, figuring Chansung might not wake up until their next stop at least.
He had to wonder what Chansung was dreaming about for his eyebrows to furrow like that. Bah, more useless thoughts, he realized. He shrugged. But now Taecyeon will never know what Chansung’s eyebrows felt like. Or how soft they were. Or even verify if the eyebrow theory was even really true. Of course, Jay must’ve been cackling like a hyena somewhere and Taecyeon grimaced. It was so stupid. But then again, the curiosity was still there and burning bright and though he knew it was not the same, Taecyeon traced a finger over his own eyebrow. Okay, now he felt certain that he was the stupidest fool, but he did it again, not particularly impressed with the softness at all. And then curiously, he traced his fingers along his ear, wondering what Chansung was feeling when he licked it and then later grazed his fingertips along it. Taecyeon smiled stupidly at himself.
By the end of the flight, Taecyeon had slipped his hand out from Chansung’s and unbraided their fingers.
D-61
agree to disagree on red velvet cake - the vow
Chansung was slicing practice cake number two and daintily placing it onto a small platter. “Let’s try this,” he said cheerfully, shaking his head with playfulness.
Taecyeon stared at him blankly, trying to digest Chansung’s words. As the spoon in Chansung’s hand neared Taecyeon’s mouth, Taecyeon shook his head. Chansung paused. “Come on, hyung, let’s try this out.” He nudged Taecyeon’s lips with the spoon, painting cream while doing so. Taecyeon sighed and gave in, engulfing the soft cake and letting it sit on tongue. Letting it melt. Letting it mask the sinking feeling he had. “So, what does it taste like?”
“Good,” Taecyeon said, licking the cream off his lips. Chansung’s eyes seemed to glitter.
“You know what, Taekinie hyung?” Chansung asked softly. Taecyeon felt his throat burn. He couldn’t run away, he was stuck frozen in his spot like Chansung had him under his thumb. “It means the world to me when you try something for me, I-”
“On second thought, it tasted bad,” Taecyeon interrupted. He took the spoon out of Chansung’s hand and scooped another spoonful of cake quickly into his mouth. Chewed. And swallowed. “Definitely bad.”
Chansung glanced at the cake, his face discolored. “Maybe we should start all over again.”
“I don’t think we should do that.”
“Why not?” Chansung asked. “Junho wants cake for his birthday, we should-”
“We can’t try this out if it’s not going to work.”
“I’m sure if we just tried it again, we could get it right. It’s a shame we have to throw this away-”
“No, we can’t do it. I’m trying and it’s not working. Don’t you see it? This is me trying.”
Chansung looked taken aback. “What... are you talking about?”
Taecyeon scoffed. “You don’t believe me. But it’s true. I’m trying-” Chansung shook his head in confusion, stepping backward. Taecyeon grasped onto his arms. “Yes I am! I’m trying to-” Taecyeon’s fingers began to slip. “But, you’re not making anything clear and I don’t know what to do- What are we doing? I can’t... I don’t know how to adjust to your... to you. So we can’t- try this out. I mean I tried. I tried to understand but it’s so-”
“Hyung, what-”
“I thought we were talking about- us?”
“What?” Chansung stepped in close, dancing pupils locked onto Taecyeon’s gaze.
“Never mind.”
The plastic spoon clattered onto the ground and Taecyeon jumped out of his trance. Chansung was laughing and Wooyoung was clapping his hands against the counter, giggling. “What’s up with you? The cake that good to silence you speechless? ” Wooyoung asked Taecyeon, still unable to shake off the laugh. Chansung glanced at Taecyeon and did stop, reaching out to hold his shoulder.
“Hyung?” Chansung murmured. Taecyeon swallowed slowly, pushing Chansung’s hand off his shoulder.
“Uh, nothing’s up,” he cleared his throat.
Taecyeon grabbed the spoon from the floor and sped out of the kitchen. He heard Wooyoung guffaw after him and Chansung’s soft laugh following after. Something like ants rampaged inside of him and he felt like he was going to burst. He’d been feeling this lately, wanting to break and smash things smithereens because when he couldn’t breathe, he needed an outlet- so he snapped the plastic spoon in half. Taecyeon hurried back to the kitchen to grab his phone, having belatedly realized they were laughing at him for taking the wrong thing. He threw the pieces of the spoon onto the counter and that was when Wooyoung stopped abruptly. Chansung called after Taecyeon but he ignored him.
What was worse was when Taecyeon had holed himself up in his room for an hour or so, he got a text from Chansung. Taecyeon cursed silently and contemplated on pretending he hadn’t seen the it. He burrowed into his pillows and pulled the sheets over himself and tried to erase the text from the glowing screen in his mind. Chansung had asked, Hyung, are you okay? Are you still planning to go to Nuneo’s birthday party tonight?
It took Taecyeon several minutes to make the decision. Sure, he was fine. Apart from the fact that he felt like he was drowning whenever Chansung was inside his mind. Chansung could split open his skull and Taecyeon would be entirely at his mercy. Taecyeon swallowed thickly. All he saw was being sewn into with threads that led back to Chansung’s control. He broke into cold sweat. Yeah, he answered. More minutes went by before he typed in, idk. Maybe he shouldn’t go to Junho’s birthday party. That would be a first in the history that they’d all started working together as 2PM. Even when they were trainees, Taecyeon had gone to their birthdays. Even if he missed it, he’d make it up the next available, as others did when they couldn’t make it another bandmate’s birthday. No, but this was different. He was considering not to go at all. But then again, it had been years. They were much older now, and someone missing out a bandmate’s birthday would be more likely to happen. Yes, but, for Taecyeon’s reason? Unlikely. No one missed a bandmate’s birthday to avoid someone else. That was preposterous. But Chansung is preposterous, Taecyeon reasoned.
His phone buzzed again. If you’re feeling unwell, I’ll let him know... In fact, there’s something I should tell you... Chansung wrote.
What, Taecyeon replied. He tried to be nonchalant. But suddenly he felt apprehensive.
Junho said not to come to the party.
Taecyeon bolted up, tossing the pillows and the sheets off his bed and onto the floor. He began to rapidly type out something, but at the end of it, his thumbs were shaking and he threw his phone to the floor. He fell back onto the bed again and shut his prickling eyes and tried to recompose himself. Relax. Gather his breathing back. It was a technique he resorted to before he went up on stage but this was entirely different. The whole world was a stage and he felt like he was being mocked at by the entire universe. Taecyeon was upset that he felt something when Chansung had texted that. What the hell was Chansung trying to do to him? Taecyeon slammed a fist into the mattress and rolled over, face-planted. He grumbled. At least, like this, he wouldn’t have to see Chansung. The less he saw Chansung, the better, he figured. Less of this odd feeling that he couldn’t escape. Less of this apprehension that he was so close and yet so far. Less of this hopelessness that he made him feel like a fool. But the question burned in his mind. The question that he couldn’t get himself to send to Chansung.
Is that what he told you say? Or do you take pleasure in using Junho’s name as an excuse?
*
Later on that night, he texted Junho, Happy birthday, Nuneo-yah. I’m sorry I can’t make it, I’m not feeling well. Of course he spent the whole night listening to his phone vibrate countless times from Junho text-yelling at him to come over right now even if Taecyeon was nearing his deathbed. (Insert an excessive amount of exclamation points and endearing expletives, of course.) Minjun even texted that he was at the party- surprise, surprise- even though he was meant to stay in LA for a whole month. Wooyoung nagged and Nichkhun called countless times. And Chansung?
He got nothing from Chansung. And so be it.
D-54
fine and peachy - the incredibles
It was February.
It had been a month since they danced together in Taecyeon's bedroom that winter night on New Year’s. Since then, Taecyeon began to notice that Chansung visited his home less and less often. Maybe Chansung was busy, Taecyeon thought, though somewhere inside of him an inkling of concern made him want to call Chansung just to make sure. He didn't. Chansung was old enough to take care of himself, Taecyeon nodded to himself. In fact, it was easier to forget now. Everything was fine.
D-51
there’s no room for anyone else - invisible
"I know it's a week early. But since we're filming Chansung's birthday for Real2PM today, I have the greatest idea in the world," Minjun explained to Taecyeon sitting across from him in the van, using his hands to draw this magnificent, plausible idea in the air. Wooyoung sat beside Minjun and sniggered.
Taecyeon smirked. "You don't have an idea, do you?"
Minjun struck out an accusing finger. "Yah! I do have an idea-"
"He doesn't," Wooyoung mouthed to Taecyeon, shaking his head with a sneer. Taecyeon laughed boisterously. Minjun squinted at Wooyoung and threatened to tickle him or something. Throughout the rest of the ride, Minjun and Wooyoung argued about The Greatest Plan On Earth for Chansung. Later, Junho and Nichkhun joined them as they walked to the usual nondescript room where they filmed some of their Real2PM videos in the past. Everything seemed so natural, like nothing was missing. And they continued to banter about who had the better idea for Chansung's birthday while Taecyeon mostly watched them with a smile that did not reach his eyes. See, how easy it was to forget?
No one seemed to notice that Chansung himself was not there at all.
D-44
you jump, i won’t jump - titanic
Today was Lincoln's birthday, the only significant day in February. That would sound like something Junho would deadpan, in a flat tone and bored-as-hell eyes. Truthfully, they were all sitting around in a cafe reserved only for them for the rest of the night, but yet again, Chansung was a no show. Which made this real birthday party for Chansung quite useless. They had been waiting for nearly four hours now, and the sun had set below the horizon, the crescent moon visible through the light clouds. Some of Chansung's friends outside of the company had attended too, though they were all hesitant to ask where Chansung was. Most of them busied themselves to the food and drinks there. Some jazz music was playing in the background for now, probably something to soothe everyone's nerves, Taecyeon noted. Except for his nerves though because he felt perfectly fine. In fact, he’d been feeling great the past week with no Chansung in his life. It did bring uneasiness when others brought Chansung up every once in a while, especially to him, like as if he knew something about Chansung that they didn’t.
"Maybe he thought his birthday was cancelled since it was filmed a week ago," Junho muttered. Wooyoung swung his elbow into Junho's side. "What!" Junho cried as Wooyoung gave him a scolding grimace. "Then, can you explain why Chansung's not here?"
Jo Kwon had overheard and invited himself to the conversation, and sat right in between Junho and Wooyoung. "I bet," Jo Kwon whispered scandalously and everyone ducked their heads to listen closely, "he went to the army." Everyone mostly rolled their eyes, and a couple people groaned under their breaths. Taecyeon and Minjun gave each other hard glances. "But seriously, guys, where is Chansung?" Jo Kwon asked.
Jinwoon had floated between Junho and Taecyeon. "I think someone should check if Chansung's okay," he said quietly. "He hasn't picked up any of our calls and most of us haven't seen him in a while." This was new. This was new and startling information that made Taecyeon feel uncomfortable. And Taecyeon knew this was directed to Junho and himself. He glanced at Junho to see if this was a good idea, but Junho fidgeted and promptly stared at the floor. If anyone should check on Chansung, it should be Junho, Taecyeon thought. So he waited for Junho to volunteer.
“You should go see if everything’s alright,” Junho spoke up, almost sounding angry, staring at Taecyeon with eyes like daggers. Everyone's eyes were on Taecyeon now, waiting for him to take action. Taecyeon stared back into the crowd, realizing that they had all been expecting him to volunteer with his own raise of the hand, not Junho. He felt beads of sweat rolling down his neck and onto his spine, trickling over each bone with the same ticklish feeling when Chansung had traced a finger down his back. Taecyeon didn’t want to. He had felt so safe this past week and- fine, admittedly empty when Chansung wasn’t there but he had ignored it. And he was fine. He kept staring into the crowd until everything grew into a feathery-blur. But someone caught his eyes in the midst of the blur and reminded him so much like Chansung, even if it was Chansung’s friend who looked entirely different- mysterious and aloof- with that tall, leaner frame. The friend’s name was Sihyoung, Taecyeon remembered Chansung was telling him after he and Sihyoung filmed a secret movie in China the summer of 2014. Sihyoung winked.
Taecyeon stood up at once, nodding solemnly even though he felt like he was sinking into an abyss. The others voiced in approval as they saw Taecyeon walk out of the restaurant. A hurricane of different feelings welled up inside of Taecyeon, but the one that particularly bothered him the most was feeling of getting bitten. He could remember vividly whenever Chansung used to bite him on the shoulder, teeth marking his skin. Taecyeon drew a hand up to his shoulder and clenched his fingers down on it until he was sure he could feel his fingertips digging crescent moons.
*
"Chansung is keeping something from all of us," Junho mumbled on the phone. Taecyeon parked his car about a quarter of a mile away from Chansung's home, to avoid getting seen by Chansung if he really were at home.
Taecyeon pulled the sweatshirt tighter around himself. "Yeah, I think so, too," he answered, though he hadn't really noticed it much if that were true. Chansung seemed to keep a lot of things to himself.
"Actually, you know what I think? I think you’re keeping something away from all of us, as well," Junho said on the other side of the line. Taecyeon adjusted the phone to his ear, unsure if he had heard that right.
"What the hell are you saying?" Taecyeon questioned. His eyes darted back and forth, and he suddenly felt like he was being watched.
"I don't know. Last I talked to him, he said he'd been going to your house." Junho sounded agitated now. “It seemed like you two were close,” he spit the last word like acid.
Taecyeon's blood curdled. He gritted his teeth. "He went to my house on his own accord. I don’t know what the hell he’s been telling you but if I had something to do with it, then I would know. But I don't. If you want to find out these things for yourself, maybe you should have volunteered because I- it’s not my concern to look after Chansung even if the whole world thinks so. And if you were truly concerned, did it seem right that we had to film Real2PM without him? We had to lie to our fans that Chansung was busy with some secret schedule. So maybe, you’re hiding something too, Lee Junho."
"I told Chansung to...” Junho trailed off.
“What? What did you tell him?”
Junho sighed. “Look, I didn't call to argue with you." He sounded tired.
"But you make it seem like I'm supposed to know everything about him. You know him better than I do. You lived longer with him than I did."
"Yeah, but that was your choice! You decided to move out, remember? I didn't. I stayed because I wanted to be with my friend," Junho snapped.
"Sure, until you moved out too!" Taecyeon exclaimed angrily. There was a long pause on the line before Junho spoke up again, and Taecyeon had to press the phone to his ear.
"I'm too tired for this. Just... Just tell me if he's okay," Junho whispered and he hung up.
Taecyeon pocketed his phone, grumbling about everyone's demeanor at the "party." Especially Junho, who really seemed to be hiding something. Taecyeon had noticed Junho was acting up at Minjun’s birthday party and disappearing off for hours at a time. Jay had even mentioned that Junho and Chansung had argued- what had they been arguing about? Taecyeon asked Jay later on but at the time, Jay was drunk, floating on those plastic donuts in the pool. So that was no use. But the way Junho disappeared was like the mini version of what Chansung was doing now, and Taecyeon had to frown. Maybe this was what Junho told Chansung to do. To disappear. And then on Junho’s birthday, Taecyeon was absolutely sure Chansung had used Junho’s name as an excuse. An inkling of an answer whispered to back to the why question but Taecyeon blocked it out. He didn’t need it. Simply ignoring and forgetting was much easier.
Really, no one wanted to face the truth that their maknae could be in trouble. If he was in trouble. And deep down, Taecyeon knew that he did not want to face it either. In his mind, Chansung would always be fine and peachy. There was absolutely nothing wrong. None of them hid anything from each other. But he did suppose that the distance between them would change their lives, so they built their own glass houses around themselves and broke down the years' worth of bridges they had built connecting each other. Chansung, having moved out last, seemed to be the clingiest. And because of that, Taecyeon knew with all his sinking misgivings that it wasn't right when Chansung disappeared for days at a time. He did not know what Chansung was doing. Nor did he ever want to find out. The cold air cuffed at his lungs and his heart raced as he turned his thoughts and over and over like dirty pebbles. His footsteps were no longer determined, they faltered on the concrete. He misstepped and nearly twisted his ankle. But he had caught himself by grasping onto a lamp post.
Shaken, he spun around and ran. Taecyeon ran and ran until he reached his car. Once he was inside, he called Junho and told him Chansung was not at home
part 3